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snoopledrooplecheesedoodle · 5 months ago

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A Quick Pick Me Up (Yandere Neko Cafe x Reader)

Hey, ya'll, I know ya'll like my fandom work, but I promise you my OC stuff is just as good. Please read!!!!! I just felt like doing this today! Reader is gender neutral. Also YANDERE BEHAVIOR IS UNACCEPTABLE IN REAL LIFE! IT AINT CUTE, IT'S ABUSE! SEEK HELP IF YOU OR A LOVED ONE HAVE SOMEONE IN YOUR LIFE LIKE THIS!

Picture belongs to @kaffee-und-liebe

Tw: Yandere tendencies, some platonic yanderes (the kids and Cocoa), some slightly suggestive content, cursing, Donut (you'll know what I mean later), mentions of abuse, and other possibly triggering content

MINORS DNI

You live in a city that is made up of mostly apartments, that don't allow you to keep a cat much less a hybrid. Too bad because you really love cats and cat hybrids. They're just so cute with their soft ears and tails and fierce expressions. When they purr? You almost die!

Which is why you are currently vibrating in front of the newest cat cafe where you can interact with cat hybrids and cats alike. It was also really close to your apartment building, so it was meant to be. The cafe was a cute brown stone building covered in vines and flowers with a black sign that in golden letters spelled out "Lucky Kitty Cafe". You felt pretty lucky standing in front of the building right now. You took a breath and entered the building.

Ding~

A set of bells tinkled cutely as your eyes widened in amazement. The place was catastic! There were paintings of cats, a cat tree decorated with potted plants, chairs with little cat ears on the back, and much more. A strange looking person with a long and thin face and vitiligo and mysterious blue green colored eyes looked up with a friendly smile. They wore head scarf with a hat with cat ears on top and a beige shirt with caramel accents.

"Welcome to Lucky Kitty Cafe, I'm Shopkeeper, are you here to see our cats and cat hybrids?" Their voice was a soothing androgynous voice. They were pretty hot not going to lie. "Yes, I'm here to see the cats!" "Wonderful~" Shopkeeper purred as they grabbed a pen and paper. "Would you like anything to eat or drink while you wait?" You smile gleefully at Shopkeeper and nod. "I'll have (cafe order) please." Shopkeeper jotted your order down and nodded. "Good taste, we'll have that order out right away for you Mx..."

"(Y/N)"

Mx. (Y/N) what a beautiful name...I can tell the staff will just love you~

For the privacy of our staff, they have been assigned names of popular cafe drinks and snacks. Their personalities our meant to cater to our wide clientele. Please take not of the following rules:

Rule 1.: Do not pick up cats

Rule 2: No pulling tails and ears of cats or staff

Rule 3: Harassment of any kind towards our cats, staff, or other customers will get you sent straight to Butch

Rule 4: Our staff are playing a role to increase your enjoyment of the cafe. The way they act in the cafe does not necessarily constitute how they act outside of the cafe.

Rule 5: Buy at least one item on the menu, this is a business after all

Rule 6: DON'T MESS WITH OUR DARLING

Meet Our Staff

Macchiato:

Macchiato or Macchi is the unofficial mascot of "Lucky Kitty Cafe" she is a calico hybrid who is the sweetest person around. Her cheerful and bright attitude will brighten up even the grumpiest of people's days. She always is the first to greet new customers.

You were stunned when the tritone beauty perched herself directly on your lap, her orange eyes shining brightly as she bounced up and down barraging you with questions.

She was so excited to see a cute new face around the establishment! Your hands were so gentle as you pet her soft ears. She didn't feel the slightest bit of shame letting you know how much she enjoyed it with her loud purring. When your food and drink came you offered to share some with her.

With her?

She almost fell in love right then and there, no one ever offered to share their food with her in such a genuine way. The food was some of the best she ever had since she got to share it with you. She couldn't help but laugh as you gushed over the cats, you were more adorable than anyone here!

She's probably the first to go yandere, she can't help it when your sweeter than the sugary treats Shopkeeper bakes. She is one clingy motherfucker, so she'll always have some body part of yours close to her. She will also insert herself in any interaction you have with others in the cafe or outside. Don't ask her why she's here just pet her pretty tritone hair!

She wants to be the only hybrid in your life which means you may wake up with her snuggled into your arms blinking those sunset orbs at you cutely.

"Morning (N/n)! Did you sleep well? I know I did~

Collects any trash you leave behind. Dirty napkins? Now hers. Straws? She's wrapping her tongue around while thinking indecent thoughts. Lost your cute keychain? Well good luck ever finding it again because now it's a part of her shrine to you.

Don't let her cute face fool you, she will do whatever it takes to ensure that you are hers.

"(N/n) left their Chapstick here. Mmm (N/n) it's like sharing an indirect kiss with you~"

Espresso:

Meet the cafe's very own black cat Espresso. He is very quiet and aloof at first. Most people never interact with him as he will leave when people attempt to start a conversation with him. No one understands why Espresso even took a job here as he's clearly not a people hybrid.

He is no doubt one of the most handsome hybrids most people see. Beautiful dark skin and long dreadlocks accompanied with silky black ears and tail and intelligent brown eyes. His voice is very deep and mellow much like a good espresso.

He is a cat magnet as even the shyest cats can be found purring contently on his lap. He lets them hang around him as he sketches pictures of the cafe.

"You're a really good artist"

Espresso jerks at the sudden sound of your voice, how did you manage to sneak up on him? He froze as every impulse in him was confused on how to react. Run away? Thank you? Let you sit down with him? It's clear to you that the Windows shut down noise is taking place in his head right now.

"I'm sorry for startling you, I'll be on my way now."

It didn't take long for other cats and Macchi to distract you, but Espresso couldn't get the interaction out of his head. Yes, you scared him, but you didn't pressure him into conversation. You simply complimented his art before leaving.

Why did a small part of him wish you stayed?

In order for him to go yandere for you, you have to let him approach you in his own time. You must be patient as Espresso isn't used to engaging with customers like the other staff are. He is probably the last if not close to last who go yandere for you, which means you'll have an ally for when the others get too touchy.

He is very aware that the feelings that he is developing aren't the healthiest, so he tries to keep his feelings to himself. He adores your calming presence and how you can bring out the best in anybody. He begins subconsciously drawing you more and more in different scenarios. Most relatively innocent but there are enough indulgent sketches that he doesn't allow you to look through his sketch book without him supervising.

However, jealousy begins to gnaw at his gut when he sees you interacting with the others. When did Butch get so protective of you? Why do you hang around that bastard Donut? Why can't he have you all to himself? He starts to use the trust that you've built towards him to convince you to spend less time with the others. Besides that, he's one of the most harmless yanderes on this list.

"Oh, you're here, did the others smother you too much? They won't bother as long as you stay with me my muse."

Donut:

Oh boy, you got this gremlin's attention, you really are too sweet for your own good, aren't you? Donut is an orange Munchkin cat hybrid and the shortest adult of the staff (the kids are platonic yandere for you). The definition of short guy syndrome but he hides it behind a cute facade. He lays it on thick for customers to give him fat tips (get you mind out of the gutter). A little bat of the eyelash here and a flirty wink there and everyone is eating out of the palm of his hand.

"Oh, a new customer, it's so nice to meet you I'm Donut~"

"Nice to meet you Donut."

"Hee hee, do you mind if I sit on your lap?"

He plops himself on your lap and starts not so subtly grinding on you which makes you very uncomfortable, you just met this guy. Plus, this is not the place for finding a random hookup. You push him off your lap and tell him that his actions made you uncomfortable. Donut begins boiling inside. You ungrateful bitch! How dare you turn him down! Him! HIM!!!! He yells in frustration later in the empty break room. Why were you being so rude when he was just being nice? (No dude that's sexual harassment) He's made it his personal mission to seduce you and then when you fall for him laugh in your face.

Donut turns up the clueless and the sexiness up by a hundred and ten percent. He wears extra skimpy and tight-fitting shorts and skirts (with lacey panties and/or thongs) as well as unbuttoning half the buttons on his pastel pink shirt, showing you his surprisingly defined chest. He skips around with an innocent grin, only for his actions to be ignored. You evil SLUT, how dare you pretend to not see what he's doing? He should teach you to be grateful and get down on your knees like a good whore does. He ignores all the other customers in favor of hatefully glaring at you from the corner.

He follows you out of the cafe and drags you into an alley nearby pinning you to the wall (he's actually deceptively strong). He screams all of the feelings he's been bottling up towards you with tears in his eyes. You stand still for a moment unsure of what to do and then you feel him go limp. Okay this is super awkward, the guy in front of you went on a nice guy spiel and then passed out. Unfortunately, you have some morality and decide not to leave him out here when your apartment is right across the street. You scoop him up and walk to your apartment (he's really light).

Donut wakes up in a stranger's bed and thinks he took his anger out by sleeping with some rando for a quick ego boost. However, he sees you coming into the room with a plate of breakfast and set it right in front of him. Why was he at your place? You explained what happened and Donut is very embarrassed, he can't believe he was vulnerable with the person he despises with all his heart. He prepares for you to mock him cruelly, but instead you treat him with the kindness he'd never show for you. Why are you such a mature person? It makes him so mad that he starts blushing, his heart starts pumping... did you always look so handsome?

Uh oh

Donut goes from being horrible to you to being the most delusional being on the planet. You treated him with kindness, which must mean you love him and much as he loves you. He does the cute act except this time its genuine and less sexual (he learned boundaries for you so be grateful (don't he still sucks)). However, he doesn't afford the same luxury to others. He sees the way others look at you and he doesn't like it one bit. He is cruel and sadistic towards rivals all while acting like an absolute angel towards you.

"Welcome home darling! How did I get in your apartment? You invited me here silly, now come and snuggle with your one and only~"

Sugar:

Sugar is a complete MILF looking like a golden age Hollywood actress in her work uniform. She is a Turkish Angora hybrid with gorgeous long white hair plated in victory curls and bewitching heterochromic eyes (left brown and right blue with a beauty mark under the left one). Sugar was a show hybrid like her mother before her but had to leave when she became pregnant with a stray hybrid's kittens. She is very gentle and motherly with an elegant femme fatale aura to her. Sugar is considered second in command to Shopkeeper and very respected for her age and wisdom (she's in her early to mid-forties because we love older women here).

Popular with old and young alike, you were starstruck when the snow-haired beauty and spoke to you with her lightly accented voice (she's Turkish). You felt completely comfortable with Sugar and were able to get some sound financial advice from her, as Sugar knew what it was like to be young and struggling to pay bills.

"Remember that charity is no only an act of generosity but also tax deductible."

"Yes mommy."

"What?"

She found your slight crush on her adorable as it was flattering for younger people to find her attractive. However, she didn't want to have to parent her partner as well as her twins. She doesn't immediately go yandere nor is she the slowest to go yandere for you. This feeling changed when she saw how well you got along with Cookie and Muffin (her twins). You were able to get them to listen to you as well as break up their fights which was a feat that very few outside herself could do. Color her impressed.

"Mommy is (Y/N) our new parent?"

"Now kids we need to be tactical about this-"

"They helped find a crying child's parents."

"Cookie, Muffin, say hello to your new stepparent."

Very few younger people and hybrids knew the subtle art of seduction like Sugar did, which she believes gives her advantage compared to the others. She doesn't constantly badger you for your time like Macchiato, Donut, and Cappuccino do (she's only truly worried about the romantic rivals but Cocoa is on thin ice sometimes). Nor does she play it too subtle like Espresso and Croissant do. She invites you to "platonic" dates out with her and her children to parks and restaurants. She also will subtly touch you whether it be smoothing wrinkles on your outfit or giving you chaste kiss on the cheek (she says she greets everyone that way, but you have yet to see that). She knows she attractive and how to flirt in a way that makes you blush but not uncomfortable.

She's seen the cruelties of the world and hopes that you won't have to go through have the horrors she's faced. The world isn't very kind to single moms, especially older single moms. She wants you to be happy and safe in her home, as a cute little stay at home spouse. Let her do all the hard work outside while you stay home and do some work inside (she won't let you strain yourself though). She also is a doting and spoiling yandere. She's very generous and giving towards you (even in bed) and will have all your desires met except leaving.

She's a master manipulator and will use her children as a way to get you to consider staying with her. They love you so much, you wouldn't break their hearts, right? (the kids are also manipulative little shits as well) The only people she would consider sharing (this is only in dire situations) you with is Shopkeeper and maybe Bruce. Besides that, she won't rest until you are snuggled into her chest in the bed you share.

"(Y/N) let's go out again, the kids love hanging out with you dear and I wouldn't want to disappoint them. You will, wonderful!"

Cookie and Muffin:

Meet the mischievous mixed breeds who work occasionally beside their mother. Cookie and Muffin are loved dearly by kids their age and lonely older patrons. They love sweets and messing with member of the staff they don't like (Donut and Cappuccino mostly) with very intricate pranks. They aren't always there and met you by chance as their mother had to pick them up early from school (Muffin and Cookie can get violent with each other and the only one who can break them up is momma Sugar). Muffin is the girl with short gray hair with a single white streak and Cookie is the boy with long white hair with a single gray streak.

They saw you playing with the kittens and wanted to play too! You rough house with the twins and don't get mad when Muffin bites you a bit too hard (kitten hybrid teeth are sharp). Cookie got jealous that you are paying more attention to Muffin and the two started fighting. Normally no one is brave enough to break the twins apart from each other, but you bravely stand between them enduring multiple scratches until they stopped.

They can't believe they hurt their new playmate; their mom is going to kill them. Both start crying while apologizing profusely for hurting you. Instead of yelling at them you scratch their ears gently and tell them it's okay. Your touch is just as calming as their mother's, wait why did you stop? Keep petting them please!

They're kids so they go yandere pretty quickly as they aren't romantic interests, and you sneak them pastries you bought (much to Sugar's dismay). Both are always trying to monopolize your time and will scratch and bite any staff or customer who interrupts their "(Y/N) Time". When their mom starts having a romantic interest in you, they're ecstatic, you get to become their new parent. While they are kids, they aren't dumb as they notice other staff members looking at you the same way that their mom does. They won't let just anyone marry you, only mommy can (they can't wait to call you their baba*)!

Their pranks become almost deadly in nature towards rivals of their mom. They never get in trouble for almost killing the delivery guy because they're just kids, what do you expect? Also inherit the manipulative trait from their mother. Oh no their babysitter mysteriously quit! Could you watch them? You come over only to find that it was an elaborate ruse done by the twins, so you have family movie night with them and Sugar (they "fall asleep" on you so you're forced to spend the night). Mommy is sad because she remembered how daddy left them. Could you cheer her up?

They aren't too dangerous yanderes besides the semi deadly pranks, but they aren't to be underestimated because they're children. They want a happy family with their favorite playmate, and they'll do anything they can to get it.

"(Y/N), Muffin pulled on my hair!" "Not before Cookie bit my finger!"

"Baba don't leave!" "Yeah, we'll stop fighting as long as you're here!"

Croissant:

Ah the intelligentsia of the cafe, its own certified genius Croissant. Croissant is a lover of reading, fine art, and playing his beloved cello. He brings with him a refined aura and a thirst for knowledge. He's a blonde American Curl who always wears his beloved red scarf, even indoors. He has semi long curly blond hair in a mullet and the prettiest hazel eyes. He's got freckles that he hides with makeup. He is popular with mainly older people who enjoy engaging in discourse with him on a wide variety of subjects. He also helps tutor kids occasionally in the cafe's break room.

Croissant saw you sitting in the corner reading a book while sipping on (beverage of choice), the book you were reading happened to be one he knew about. He asked if you were enjoying the book, which caused your eyes to light up. You began to ramble to him about the book you were reading which Croissant found very adorable. Finally, he found someone that had a similar interest to him.

The two of you begin to have a routine where you would have interesting conversations about your individual interests, where each one of you would come out learning more about each other. Croissant started noticing little things about you, like how one dimple is bigger than the other when you smile, or that your nose scrunches up when you're confused. That's totally a normal thing to notice about your friend, right?

Right?

Croissant is one of the last to go yandere but goes yandere before Espresso and Butch. I mean how could anyone resist your charms forever? You never are rude or demeaning like the jealous fools in his graduate classes. You actually listen with wide eyed interest and treating him like a regular person instead of something to be revered or despised made him fall deeper into his obsession with you.

Croissant will find any way to spend more time with you. You trying to go to graduate school? He can help you study! Applying for a job? Why not work here? Other work environments won't value you the way "Lucky Kitty Cafe" would value you. So, what if you're human, Shopkeeper is human too (are they though?)! Don't even worry about filling out a resume a good word from Croissant and you'll have the job by tomorrow (even if you don't want to work there you will end up working there if Croissant has something to say about it).

Croissant never values anyone's opinion on him before, but he reveres your opinion above his own. Prefer red heads? Guess who's dying his hair? Hate his curled ears? He suddenly prefers wearing hats indoors. He can become very unstable fast so try to reassure him with love and affection. Or else no one will be able to stop the fall out. He's one hell of a stalker since he wants to know that you are okay, and no one is hurting you. Keeps extensive lists of things you like and plans for the future home the two of you will buy that is far away from this city and its impure influences.

"Ah Mx. (L/N) it's a pleasure to see you today. Care to pick up our conversation from where we left off yesterday?"

Cocoa:

Cocoa is a spunky freshly high school graduated college student who is working at the "Lucky Kitty Cafe" as a waitress for some extra money to pay for campus expenses. Cocoa is a Burmese with gigantic coke bottle glasses (she's extremely far sighted) and puffy space buns. She is popular with the teens and young adults who frequent the restaurant for her cute fashion sense and her sassy attitude.

She first met you when she spilled hot coffee all over you. The one day she forgets to wear her glasses! She immediately rushes you to the employee bathroom and apologizes profusely as she sprays cold water over the burn and begins to cry. She never meant to hurt anyone, and she may even get fired for injuring another customer (first time was no accident). You were fine thankfully but the guilt still ate away at Cocoa. She decided to spend time with you as payment and even pay for your meal. You laugh at Cocoa's guilt-ridden sad puppy eyes and compliment her nails. She immediately forgets her guilt and babbles about the cute new nail salon you should try. OMG you two should totally become BFFs!

Cocoa isn't immediately yandere and is like Sugar somewhere in the middle but further towards the immediate side. She's just hanging out with her new bestie! However, her tail bristles when she sees Macchi looping her arm around your waist, or the way that Donut coos at you while trying to feed you the cafe's newest dessert. Can't these two find their own BFFs, your hers. Great now Cappuccino is sleeping with their head in your lap! She snaps and screams at the other hybrid to leave you the hell alone, scaring many nearby cats. You tell Cocoa to calm down and that you're okay with Cappuccino doing this. What the fuck? How could you?!

After taking a second to calm down, Cocoa had to figure out why she was so worked up about you having other friends. It's good for you to have other friends...so why does it leave a bitter taste in her mouth. She doesn't hate the idea of you having friends, she just needs to be your BEST FRIEND!

Cocoa is one monopolizing and clingy girl. You have planned this weekend? Great now you can throw them out because Cocoa is taking you shopping to a cool new vintage store down the road, ooh and you can have boba tea afterwards! She bats away Macchi, Donut, and Cappuccino to have some time with her bestie, they aren't invited! She also believes as your best friend (she'll get rid of anyone who tries and replace her) she gets to pick who your future spouse is, and she is overly critical towards everyone in the cafe. No one is good enough for her bestie! She might put in a good word for the others... if they forfeit their time with you for the day (she's evil like that >:)).

Cocoa also is the type to try and hang out with you outside of the cafe by "coincidence". Oh, my what a coincidence that you both were at the supermarket at the same time looking for...mangos. Man, she loves mangos (she hates mangos)! Anyways, she found this really cute spa where they use sweet, scented bath bombs in the soak tub. Don't worry she'll pay! She also will totally snitch if she sees others trailing you (like she wasn't also stalking you) to make you like her more. Oh my god Croissant is totally following you, guess he isn't the gentleman he claims to be. What's she doing here? Don't worry about that, let's go rollar skating!

"(N/n) look there's 50% off matching sets of pajamas! Let's totally get some and have a sleep over together!"

Matcha:

You like em weird. Like really weird. Matcha is one strange hybrid. They are a Russian Blue with long bangs that cover their intense steel blue eyes. They have a couple streaks of light green in their gray blue hair. Their extremely pretty as they have a pale complexion and are lithe but when they open their mouth customers walk away in discomfort. As a result, Shopkeeper has them in the back most of the day and only really lets them come out before opening and after closing. They will be the one of the last yandere's you'll probably meet.

You were helping Shopkeeper with cleaning up after an intense day at the cafe, after all they let you stay in the comfiest table for hours after you purchased food. As well as staying after closing to feed the kitties. You also may or may not have been lured by Shopkeeper's promise of being able to take some of the leftover pastries home. Whatever your reason you were helping Shopkeeper, when Shopkeeper left to take a phone call outside. You smiled to yourself as you hummed a tune while cleaning up. You started actually singing when you heard a crash coming from the kitchen area. Strange you don't remember anyone being in the store besides you and Shopkeeper. Curiosity got the better of you and you decided to sneak a peek at whatever creature was in the kitchen.

You peer into the dark kitchen to find a skinny person holding a bent-up pan and an explosion of red all over the floor and all over the person.

"Oh, don't worry this isn't blood."

You proceeded to sock the stranger in the face and run to find Shopkeeper.

"There's a strange person with bluish hair covered in god knows what in your kitchen!"

"Oh that's Matcha."

"Who?!"

After an in-depth explanation of why this person you never saw before was standing in front of you covered in strawberry jam (they like to be one with the fruit) you were introduced to Matcha. A hybrid who smells like and probably eats dirt, an acquired taste for most (both dirt and Matcha). You apologized for punching them in the face to which they grinned and told you they like how your fist felt on their face. Okay a little strange but Shopkeeper wouldn't hire a literal serial killer, right?

You don't even know anymore

Obsessed from the minute your fist made contact with their face. Not quite yandere but interested in the reactions you make (and the pain you can give them). They actually gain romantic interest towards you slower than you think, give or take two days. You saw the large cut on their arm and helped them patch it up, it was from that moment that they planned your entire wedding in their head.

Is terrible at stalking but does it in hopes of being caught and you berating them for it (thinks it's sexy when you're mad). Fights Macchi for the things you leave behind and is found sniffing the seat where you were sitting. Is the definition of worshipper yandere as they truly believe you are a deity, and they are your acolyte. They don't care if you hate them or want them dead, as long as they can be by your side that's all that matters.

Being your acolyte also means they will do anything you ask with zeal. It doesn't matter if it's highly illegal as going to jail in your stead would be a blessing. They just love you so much that it consumes their very being. They're willing to share you with others (as long as they can watch) as long as you still let them stay by your side too.

"Hit me, stab me, choke me, leave me to die. Any act done by your hands is a blessing and a pleasure for me~"

Shopkeeper:

You got the big cheese's attention, the owner of the cafe, the mysterious Shopkeeper. Shopkeeper is alluring in an inhuman way with their sharp blue green eyes and charming androgynous voice. They loved the smile you gave them the first time you came in, what an adorable face. They also loved the face you made when you took a bite of the food you ordered, that blissed-out look is just too cute.

"Excuse me did you make this pastry?"

"Oh, why yes I did, it happens to be a family recipe."

"You're so talented, that was the best (pastry of choice) I every ate!"

Normally compliments don't faze Shopkeeper they'd reply with a nod and a polite thank you. However, you seemed so genuine and the way your eyes sparkled made something melt inside of Shopkeeper. You would surely become one of their favorite customers.

Shopkeeper is very hard to read so it can be difficult to tell when they go yandere for you. Their actions can be seen as purely platonic or as their attempt to flirt with you. They always make sure your favorite sweets are freshly made when you arrive to the cafe, they have the time you arrive memorized. If you don't like sweets, they always have something savory and tasty prepared to your liking. Keeps track of your food preferences and allergies when coming up with new items for the menu, so you can taste test them.

"I was thinking of adding this to the menu tell me how it tastes?"

"Is it necessary for you to feed me?"

"Absolutely."

One thing is for sure when they do fall for you, they begin to plan how to make you entirely theirs. Shopkeeper knows how their staff have taken a liking to you, and they don't feel like sharing (may have an easier time with the more submissive/guilt ridden ones like Matcha and Butch). They use their sweet words and actions to guide you in the right direction (right into their arms). They also aren't afraid to take care of rivals that come from outside of the cafe.

"Oh, why is there blood on my face? Just a little problem in the kitchen that's all."

Cappuccino:

Cappuccino is the Ragdoll of the group, a mellow, sleepy person. They are perfect cuddle shape with their chubby body and their big fluffy ears, hair, and tail. They are almost always asleep yet one of the most popular hybrids at the cafe for how cute and calm they are. They don't often choose who they fall asleep on, so they might have accidently fallen asleep on you.

"Oh, I fell asleep but not on a pillow."

"Hey, Cappuccino, right? I need to get to work so could you kindly..."

"Zzzzzz"

Cappuccino is pretty big both tall and chubby (because tall people can also be chubby/fat and beautiful) so it's hard to move them when they sleep, which is too bad for you since Cappuccino has decided you are their new favorite pillow. They always find you in what you're doing and force you to let them cuddle with you. After all, why cuddle with a cat now that you have Cappuccino?

"Cappuccino what are you doing in my house?"

"Ugh you're being to noisy be quiet, pillows don't talk."

"GET OUT!"

Cappuccino goes yandere for you pretty quick, but you wouldn't notice as Cappuccino is too lazy to do anything about these feelings beside scent you constantly when you cuddle. Cappuccino is clingy in the sense that they can't get good sleep unless they're clinging to you. You may have places to be, but Cappuccino is sleeping right now so you won't be going anywhere. They're adorable and they know it, so they use this to make you stay longer too. One sleepy look from those big droopy blue eyes and you are staying a lot longer than you intended. Isn't willing to pick fights with Donut, Macchi, or Cocoa, but is willing to make it out like they are bullying them.

"You shouldn't hang out with people who treat others bad (Y/N), you know I never would (they totally would)."

Their apathy is one of the scariest traits they have, they may be lazy, but they use their cuteness to get crazed fans to get rid of the competition. They are not above getting rid of others at the cafe because they don't care about the people around them. Cappuccino is also very strong as when they aren't sleeping, they are at the gym, so if they feel motivated enough, they can bash some heads in. Cappuccino only cares about you, so don't make them do anything that you may regret.

"Oh (Y/N) sorry for humping you, I was having a very...intense dream."

Butch:

Enter the devoted guard dog of the cafe Butch. The Pitbull hybrid is the tallest and strongest of the cafe and doesn't let anyone harass the Shopkeeper and staff. He sent you a threatening glare with his scared face when you arrived. He didn't know you and he hated humans for all the scars they gave him. You smiled at him and walked away. Tch, stupid human.

One by one all the hybrids fell for your charms (platonic ones are platonically in love with you) and it made Butch's blood boil. Why couldn't you be satisfied with just being a patron? Why did Shopkeeper look at you that way? Butch had a crush on Shopkeeper for saving him from his horrible life yet never had the courage to approach them. He saw the looks Shopkeeper gave you and it made him angry. He was going to confront you when he saw the scene with Donut occur. He saw the look of fear and worry on your face as you carried Donut gently to your apartment. He saw how you treated Cocoa and the twins as well as Matcha. You didn't have anything to get out of this so why do it?

His answer was given the night an old competitor from the fighting ring came at him with the intention to kill. He managed to kill the guy before he was killed but he was severely injured. He heard footsteps approach him head and he looked up to see you. You kept him awake long enough for the paramedics to arrive and take him to the hospital. The look of worry in your eyes is genuine and your smile of relief reminds him of the smile that Shopkeeper gave him that day they saved him (he's got a thing for nonbinary baddies). Your smile however was less calculated and more genuine.

Badump

Butch is the last to go yandere because Butch feels guilty. Guilty for hating you when you showed him nothing but kindness, guilty for betraying Shopkeeper like that and guilty for wanting to lock you away where no one but himself can see you. He is one overprotective and loyal pooch, who will protect you until his final breath. Good people don't deserve to face the cruelties a monster like him faced.

The most likely to be poly with you and Shopkeeper as he still holds feelings for Shopkeeper and they're both obsessed with you. You won't want for anything as he holds you in his muscular arms with his head buried in your neck to muffle the sobs.

"Please forgive me for being selfish, you're the only good thing I've got."

*Baba is the gender-neutral affectionate term for parent like mama and papa.

Sorry if it's bad towards the end, I rushed towards Cappuccino and Butch. Please feel free to request scenarios for the new ocs I dropped. ONLY PLATONIC FOR COCOA AND THE TWINS BUT EITHER ROMANTIC OR PLATONIC FOR EVERYONE ELSE.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere ocs x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere ocs #yandere cat cafe #male yandere #female yandere #nonbinary yandere #coffee #coffee shop #yandere cat hybrid #yandere hybrid #romantic yandere #platonic #platonic yandere #tw yandere

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 6 months ago

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Floyd's Only Fear

(Tw: Blood, (mild) gore, sibling angst)

Survival of the fittest. It was all the twins had known since they were little elvers, that ruthlessness was the greatest mercy they could grant themselves. It meant no enemy was left to enact revenge, it meant, theoretically, there was no motive to be had against them.

In theory, it made sense. But real life has all sorts of factors you have to be aware of, and the ocean and it's inhabitants rarely act on logic.

Floyd remembers what Jade was like before they had to learn that lesson the hard way. He looks at his brother now and wonders if the roles had been reversed, if he'd have ended up the same way he did.

They couldn't have been more than five. They had made it back home, the only two surviving elvers of the clutch. He remembered how proud their mother was of the two of them, but their father was rather detached still. They were loud, playful and rambunctious, constantly causing mischief to those who had the (dis)pleasure of meeting them. The only difference between the two of them when they were that young was which side of their face their black strand of hair was, and the shape and colour of their eyes.

Their mother's way of parenting at the time had been very laissez-faire, he understood now, was her balance between becoming too attached to them while also looking after them, two very opposite sides of her mind at war. He didn't blame her for it, at least not now that he was older. She had given them an area she deemed relatively safe to play, as well as an old shipwreck, not far from home.

Most days, he and Jade were fine to play in and amongst the wreckage, practicing their hunting, chasing each other and finding hidey holes to try and scare each other with.

Floyd remembered, neither he nor his brother could stay very quiet at that time, as they'd get too excited and giggle about the new spot they found to hide and wanted to show it to their other half. Even if they tried to stay quiet, usually they were the biggest creatures there, and the wiggles of trying to get deeper into their hiding place would cause disturbances in the water that made their twin find them.

Which was why the day Jade went silent, was the day Floyd learned what fear truly was.

His nightmare always started the same, a memory. He and Jade were excited as always to go play in the shipwreck. The sun was just starting to set, the light filtering through the water dappled red and orange - according to the humans, it was supposed to be a lovely day tomorrow.

Neither of them liked counting. It took away the surprise if you knew when someone was going to come looking for you. Not just that, but they were fast and honestly, waiting around was boring for both of them. Jade was a little smaller than Floyd, so Floyd would give him a five second head start, where Jade would give Floyd a three second head start.

Those five seconds always got Floyd excited, ready to hunt down his brother, tag him and then they could switch. He listened as Jade giggled, disappearing into the shipwreck they knew and loved.

Floyd wouldn't call it cheating, it was just a strategic means to an end if he peeked between his fingers. He knew exactly which way Jade went in, darting over to the hole in the hull of the ship, but freezing as he got to the opening.

The darkness felt...heavier than usual, and at first, Floyd couldn't place why. He felt his entire body go still for the first time in his life, the only thing moving was his hair in the gentle ebb and flow of the water. He could feel something watching him, something farther into the hole. He didn't know what it was. But he knew with certainty it wasn't Jade.

It felt like ages until it finally clicked to him that he couldn't feel Jade's movement, instead, at large intervals he felt water moving from side to side by something bigger than even their parents.

He felt a pit forming in his stomach the longer he looked into the hole. In his nightmares it felt like hours of just staring into the abyss, human clutter in the corners of his vision, but his eyes locked on something else much deeper. In reality, he knew mere seconds had passed. The smell of Jade's blood filling the water and the low growl that emanated from within the hole rattled Floyd to his core, his fear still locking him in place as he just tried to keep breathing properly. As his eyes finally adjusted to just how dark it was, he could see his brother's eyes bulging from the pressure the other mer was putting on his neck, the mers claws digging into his neck while his other hand had torn him open. The mer was licking his fingers clean, seemingly proud of himself before he would lunge at Floyd, and he would wake up.

He had blocked out most of what happened after. From what his father was so proud of boasting about now was the fact Floyd had gone in for the kill. He had lived up to the family name, acted on instinct and did as he was supposed to. His mother told him about how he had pleaded with the two of them to save Jade's life once he brought him home, nearly split in half, an act of brutality done for nothing, only for the other mer to feel powerful. His mother told him that if he hadn't killed the bastard that went after his brother, their father wouldn't have let her save his twin.

It may sound cold, but it wasn't the fact his brother had been harmed so badly that got to Floyd.

When it was just the two of them, Jade was the loud one. He was always talking, always giggling, always trying to scare him with 'boos' and growls and whatever other noise he could make up.

And Floyd would talk, laugh and be noisy in response. He always had. And he had adored it.

It was that unforgiving silence, that moment of uncertainty and terror, when everything in his body was screaming something was wrong, but his mind couldn't tell him what...besides the fact that Jade was quiet.

After Jade recovered, physically from the attack, Floyd remembered trying desperately to make him laugh. He remembered everything he did being met with little more than a small smile. He remembered how pissed off it made him that Jade wouldn't make noise, and at the time, being young as he was, he would do what he needed to warrant the reaction he wanted. He remembered how his brothers cries sounded when he prodded at his stitches, and how his mother ushered him out of the room, no longer trusted to be alone with Jade. Jade ended up being nursed back to health by their grandma, and Floyd spent most of his time with his parents.

By the time they were 12, Jade had become selectively mute. He refused to speak unless spoken to, would often seemingly appear from nowhere, and the only person he could speak directly to was Floyd, and even then, it was rarely above a whisper. Floyd wasn't entirely sure at the time if it was the result of their grandmother's 'training' for Jade or not, but he was old enough then that he finally understood.

Jade didn't want to be known.

He didn't want to be perceived, he didn't want to be the one caught off guard, he didn't want to be made silent by force again, he refused to fail as a Leech. His silence would let him be the predator rather than the prey.

Floyd understood it. He could get it, but it didn't change the fact that it bothered him, the sound that used to fill the space between them still bothered him now that it was gone, that it had been gone for so long. That noise and lack thereof would never be a liable way of knowing where his brother was, if he was even alive, not anymore.

While they still lived underwater, Floyd and Jade had their own methods of silent communication, the same tell tale movement in the water, subtle flicks of their fins, even just in the way they would meet each other's mismatched eyes.

On land it was harder, at least for Jade. Every step made noise, even as he practiced walking carefully, heel to toe, even with the best shoes he could get while at the boot camp, he couldn't be quiet. For Floyd it was reassuring, he didn't have any other way of telling when Jade was nearby, besides maybe smell, but outside of the water, his senses weren't as strong. Jade was still quiet, but Floyd could see behind his practiced mask, the mounting anxiety was getting to Jade as he unwillingly entertained theoreticals that would race through his mind.

Floyd remembered approaching a pensive Jade one evening, before curfew. He had just been looking out over the lake they had near the boot camp, sevens knew what was going through his mind. Floyd only realized just how jumpy Jade really was once he was within Jade's swinging range - only found out because the crack of branches beneath his feet had let Jade know somebody was walking up to him, though he admitted he didn't know who. It was only after Floyd's hand shot up to stop the bleeding from his nose and a dirty look shot at his twin that he saw tears streaming down Jade's face, his own expression changing immediately.

He kept holding his nose, mostly to try and stop the bleeding as he tried to power through the pain - at least underwater, his fist would have been slowed down, but that wasn't the point at the moment.

In that moment, their eyes were locked onto each other. One bleeding red blood for the first time, the other feeling real tears course down his face for the first time. There were no words to be said, not really. Floyd could see that this was not how Jade wanted to live...or could really continue to live, not on land. The hug that followed after the moment of silence was all the reassurance Jade needed to know his brother would help him, tears absorbing into the thin cloth of Floyd's top.

They never talk about what happened that night, but it was from that moment on that Floyd lived louder. From the way he walked to the skills he chose to develop.

He could keep the attention on him against every moray instinct he had, because the louder he lived, the louder Jade could live, even if it meant he had to scream just for Jade to whisper.

Because if Jade could finally live like a whisper, it meant that he was starting to heal...and it meant that if he went quiet, Floyd wouldn't fail him this time.

----------------------------------------------------------

This post was inspired by a post I saw a While ago, please tag OP if you know who they are, (they mentioned Floyd's biggest fear being Jade's silence), also yes I'm a fan of EPIC shhhh

HAPPY MERMAY lskdjfhlksjdf

#v talks #twst #twisted wonderland #twst hcs #twst headcanons #twst scenarios #twst angst #jade leech #twst jade #floyd leech #twst floyd #mermay 2024

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skogjeger · 1 year ago

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Candles' Colours & Associations ❁ཻུ۪۪ ━

‧₊˚. : · •. * • ˚ . · * ✶ : · • * ˚ ✵

Candle magic, often referred to as "magick" (a common alternate spelling), offers an accessible and budget-friendly approach to spiritual practices. For centuries, people have incorporated candle rituals into their spiritual routines, making it an integral part of diverse traditions. Candles play a versatile role in various occasions like weddings, birthdays, spells, honouring deities and numerous other celebrations and rituals.

𖤣𖥧˚ Candle Colour Associations

Each candle colour is associated with distinct energies, intentions, and vibrations. Understanding these associations is essential for crafting meaningful candle rituals. Candles add rather than subtract to your spells, although candles aren't always necessary and you can use any candle and associate your own meanings for them, but here are some common candle colour associations:

White: Purity, spirituality, banishing, cleansing, unveiling, healing, truth, balance, innocence, clarity, peace, new beginnings, and illumination. It represents divine light and is often used for cleansing and invoking spiritual protection.

Red: Passion, love, courage, fire, lust, anger, revenge, sex, power, survival, change, action, assertiveness, and strength. Red candles are employed for matters of the heart, to enhance energy, and ignite motivation.

Orange: Success, enthusiasm, curiosity, change, opportunities, simulation, courage, and attraction. Orange candles are used to stimulate creativity and bring positive energy into endeavors.

Yellow: Creativity, joy, motivation, positivity, relieving negativity, energy, happiness, and clarity. Yellow candles can enhance mental clarity, increase focus, and bring a sense of joy and optimism.

Green: Growth, abundance, fertility, wealth, nature, naivety, healing, and prosperity. Green candles are used for attracting financial well-being and promoting healing and renewal.

Blue: Peace, healing, recollection, psychic growth, justice, study, mental blocks, guidance, calm, honesty, harmony, intuition, and communication. Blue candles aid in deepening meditation, enhancing psychic abilities, and fostering emotional balance.

Purple: Spirituality, wisdom, divination, and higher consciousness. Purple candles are associated with spiritual awakening and seeking inner wisdom.

Pink: Love (self-love), friendship, nurturing, and harmony. Pink candles are often used in rituals focused on self-love, compassion, and nurturing relationships.

Grey: Transmutation, patience, mediating, neutralizing, balance, stability, study, calm, balance, developing psychic abilities, and wisdom. Grey candles are useful when contemplating complex issues and can neutralize negative influences.

Brown: Wisdom, grounding, tenacity, perseverance, stability, rooted, security, woods, family, animals, pets, earth, material items, practicality, rediscovery, reconnection, and balance. Brown candles serve a dual purpose: safeguarding pets and family members, as well as facilitating reconnection with friends and loved ones.

Black: Protection, banishing, endings, absorbing, safety, binding, exorcism, release, death, healing, loss, and releasing negativity. Black candles are used for purification and breaking negative patterns. Some people will also use black candles for revenge spells (white too) or breaking hexes.

𖤣𖥧˚ Metallic Candle Colour Associations

Gold: Abundance, wealth, spiritual illumination, success, good fortune, happiness, ambition, luck, and the sun. Gold candles are used to invoke prosperity, celebrate achievements, and attract positive energies.

Silver: Intuition, self-reflection, perception, awareness, defend, send-back energy, protection, and emotional balance. Silver candles are employed for enhancing psychic abilities, connecting with lunar energies, and invoking the divine feminine.

Copper: Healing, vitality, emotions, autumn, new ideas, relaxation, combining, coming together, and energy balancing. Copper candles are utilized to promote physical healing, boost energy levels, and restore equilibrium.

Bronze: Grounding, strength, autumn, foundation, and courage. Bronze candles are associated with stability, courage, and protection during challenging times.

Final ❁ཻུ۪۪ ━

‧₊˚. : · •. * • ˚ . · * ✶ : · • * ˚ ✵

Feel free to reach out to me if you're interested in exploring different candle colours or their associations. You can send me a message directly, drop a note in my inbox, or share your thoughts in the comments, and I'll be happy to expand on the topic!

#paganblr #candles #candle associations #candle magic #magick #witchblr #spells #candle colours #beginner witch #pagan #eclectic witch #eclectic pagan #pagan blog #witch blog #spirituality #paganism #witch community #pagan community #meanings & associations

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five-hxrgreeves · 1 year ago

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Two Positives Equal a Negative (Or Something Like That)

PAIRING: adam warlock & fem! quill’s sister!reader

WC: 2.8k (again, a long one. I just can’t seem to write anything short!)

SUMMARY: you’ve always had trouble sleeping thanks your numerous (unfortunate) life experiences. While he hasn’t lived as long as you have, Adam has a similar problem. Fortunately, a Terran phrase that your brother taught you might have the solution that you seek.

WARNINGS: slight gotg three spoilers, fluff, angst if you squint.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: okay, so I accidentally lied and I realized that my last one-shot wasn’t my first official one; I wrote a Natasha x reader several years ago. I just don’t post on here that often so I forgot about it, lol. Anyway, Adam Warlock currently has a chokehold on me so here’s another one-shot for him- the sequel that I mentioned on the last one. I’m tempted to write a Gally one/two-shot, but I’m not familiar with the TMR universe so I’m worried that I’d mess it up.

Also, I know that the phrase is actually ‘two negatives equal a positive,’ but I was drawing on the fact that non-Terrans wouldn’t really remember/understand Peter’s references, and since ‘you’ had only been to Earth during Endgame, you it mixed up.

Part 0 , Part 1

You’d always had trouble sleeping, especially on your father’s planet. There had just been a sense of. . . wrongness that you didn’t need Mantis’ empath powers to feel. It had made you on edge most of the time, alert for the unseen danger that you felt. While this might’ve just been your role as Ego’s protector speaking, you knew that your sister felt similarly. Mantis had once offered to put you to sleep using her powers, which you’d agreed to. Although it had worked, you hadn’t liked the feeling of your emotions being messed with, or the vulnerability that came with sleep. Even though you trusted that your sister wouldn’t hurt you, Ego was a different story entirely.

So, that meant that you were up most of the time with only catnaps and snatches of sleep when absolutely necessary. (Luckily your enhanced stamina helped in this case so it wasn’t terribly detrimental to your wellbeing.) It was hard to hide your unusual sleep patterns on the Milano with your new friends since there wasn’t space to walk around like there had been on Ego’s planet. But the Guardians all had various traumas of their own, so they understood the difficulty of getting peaceful rest. Some nights had even been better than others as Peter would teach you how to play Terran card games, which would then include the rest of the Guardians once you’d learned.

You also liked to sit in the pilot’s chair late at night and watch the darkness of space light up around you. It was funny, really; everyone expected space to be a dark, black vacuum of nothing when it was actually just the opposite. Sure, there was no physical form of life, but space was alive in its own way. As the Milano sailed aimlessly through the stars, you’d pass the orange-red clouds of dust and gas— nebulas. Or the brilliant white-blue of a dying star, or the different hues of blue-black that surrounded you. Space was truly beautiful, which was something that you never tried to take for granted.

But now you were stuck on Knowhere. There were no brilliant colors of space to distract you or friends to play card games with. Mantis was gone— your only source of comfort on those long nights when you’d served your father. You were alone, with nothing but a Zune to distract you as you sat, bored, in the kitchen late into the night. You’d decided on some calmer tunes and were currently listening to the Frank Sinatra playlist you’d curated. A warm mug of tea— which Peter had also introduced you to— sat between your hands as your eyes glazed over, getting lost in your music.

As it turned out, Adam wasn’t that great of a sleeper, either. It always felt like there was too much energy running through him to be properly restful— not to mention that, whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his mother waiting for him as he flew desperately towards her. And then the explosion would come, jolting him out of sleep as a reminder of his failure.

With a sigh, he pushed back his covers and stood. Since he was already dressed (his mother had always told him to be ready for anything), he made his way to the kitchen where he’d baked cookies with you. It hadn’t been that long ago, but he already missed the comfortable, homey feeling he’d gotten as he formed the batter into spheres with you standing at his side. You had yet to talk to Rocket about how his comments made you feel, but he knew it was because you respected your teammate and didn’t like making a big deal out of things. Thinking about you now, he sort of hoped that he would see you in the kitchen when he got there— but that was a crazy thought; it was the middle of the night! Any normal person would be in a deep sleep by now.

So, it was definitely a pleasant surprise when he came upon you, sitting at the head of the table. Your earbuds were in your ears, as usual, and you seemed to be deep in thought as you absentmindedly traced the rim of your mug with your finger. He was comfortable enough with you to approach you without hesitation, so he took the chair next to yours and nudged you gently to get your attention.

You jumped, startled by the unexpected presence of someone else in the room. At first you had a wild thought that it might be Peter, who came to keep you company as he often had. You were only mildly disappointed to see that it was Adam instead (and this was just because you missed your brother; you were actually quite happy to see the golden boy.) You took out your earbuds and paused your music. “You’re up late. Or early.”

His golden eyes met yours— something you noticed that he did often; it seemed that eye contact was his way of showing that he was listening to you, which always made your stomach flutter pleasantly. “So are you,” he replied. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah,” you said with a shrug. “You?”

“Me either,” he agreed.

You sat in a comfortable silence together, one so long that you were almost tempted to put your earbuds back in. Maybe this was a one-off thing; you’d never seen him before on your sleepless nights. Maybe he wasn’t used to being up at this hour and just wasn’t as talkative as he normally was with you. But you were also curious; what could a supposedly perfect being be troubled with at night? So, you sighed, and against your better judgement (as you hated to talk about your feelings), you asked, “wanna talk about it?”

But Adam also knew how you were, and he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind just sitting here.” He got to enjoy your company, after all, so he considered tonight to be better than most.

You let out another sigh. As much as you hated getting touchy-feely, the night was already very boring; sitting and not talking would only make it worse. “I don’t mind, actually. I’m used to being around other people when I’m up like this. Talking would make the time pass faster.” You studied his expression for a moment, which was unusually unreadable; it always seemed like he had a kind smile or glance to send your way. “We can start off easy, if you want. Are you up like this every night?”

His expression softened at your willingness to go outside your comfort zone, so he answered honestly. (He had nothing that he wanted to hide from you, anyway.) “Most nights, yeah. What about you?”

“Same,” you agreed. You played with the rubber protective tip on your earbud. “Can’t get to sleep or bad dreams?”

“Both,” Adam admitted. “Although it’s usually the first one.”

You nodded. “Same, again, but for me it’s mostly the latter. You remember when I said that you weren’t the first person to try and kill me?” At his confirmation (because how could he have forgotten that?), you continued, “yeah. It’s mostly that. My father was a great parent,” you finished sarcastically.

When you’d first become friends, you’d shared stories about the Guardians’ adventures— even the ones that had happened before you’d joined the team— although they’d mostly been lighthearted in tone. You’d acted like they hadn’t really affected you and had laughed at the fact that your father’s planet had tried to swallow you whole. Adam sort of wished that your father was still alive so he could fight him for you. While his mother had had her moments of parenting issues, he’d never doubted that she did love him; it was clear that this wasn’t the case with your father.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not really sure what else he could say. Despite everything that had happened to you, you were still a good person; you hadn’t fought the Guardians on your first meeting like he had, which already made you better than him. He wished that there was something he could do (such as getting revenge for you) to help ease whatever burden you were feeling as you often had for him, but there didn’t seem like there was anything that he could do.

“Don’t worry about it,” you replied in a blasé tone, already moving on from your heavy things. “Want to talk about your stuff?”

He shifted in his seat, a little uncomfortable to admit his failure to you. He wanted to prove that he was just as capable as you were, and this was one of his worst moments. “I. . . keep thinking about my mother.” His gaze dropped to where his hands were folded on the table, unable to watch your reaction in case you thought worse of him. “How I. . . wasn’t able to save her. I was so close, too. If only I’d been faster—”

You reached out a hand to put it on top of both of his, cutting him off. Yours was much smaller in comparison, barely covering even one of his hands. He looked up at you with surprise, feeling his face heat up at the contact. Your usually jovial expression was uncharacteristically serious as you chided him gently, “stop. Thinking like that never helps, you know. You’ll drive yourself mad if you keep wondering ‘what if.’ I should know.”

While he was relieved that his fears about your reaction were unfounded, he frowned at your last words. “What do you mean?”

You pretended not to notice that your hands were still holding his as you answered, “remember what I told you about the Snap?” At his nod, you continued, “Peter and I were the only ones who weren’t trying to subdue Thanos. My powers are mostly defensive, so they would only anger him, which was the opposite of what we were trying to do. Peter got— understandably— distraught at the news of Gamora’s death and he was practically solely responsible for the Snap.” You sighed heavily, dropping your gaze from him. “As the only other person not doing anything on that planet, I could’ve stopped him, but he was my brother; I couldn’t hurt him. But if I had. . . everything could’ve been so much different. In a way, I was responsible for the Snap, too.”

While he understood your reasoning, he didn’t completely agree with it. You’d filled him in with great detail about the Infinity War, which you’d only learned the missing parts after you’d been brought back. So, he insisted quietly, “Thor could’ve also gone for Thanos’ head, but he didn’t.”

“But Thanos wouldn’t have even gotten to the Terran planet if we’d stopped him on Titan. You see what I mean? These what-ifs really messed with my head— still do. You eventually just have to accept the fact that the situation can’t be changed and learn from your mistakes.” In a lighter tone you added, “I promised myself that the next time I needed to sock it to Peter, I wouldn’t hesitate. Maybe a good hit to the head would knock some common sense back into him.”

Adam chuckled at this, his serious expression lifting. Sensing that you didn’t want to talk about such emotional topics anymore, he changed the subject slightly. “So you’re up every night because of these thoughts? Don’t you need sleep?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got enhanced stamina, so not as much as a regular person,” you said, relieved that he picked up on your hint. “What about you? You’re practically a god yourself.”

He felt his face flush with (pleased) embarrassment at your indirect compliment, even if it was truthful. “That’s part of the problem, I think,” he explained. “All this power. . . it gives me too much energy and. . . I can’t sleep.”

You frowned thoughtfully at your similar predicaments, an idea (admittedly, a stupid enough one that Peter could’ve come up with it) forming in your mind. “Y’know,” you began slowly, “Peter taught me a Terran phrase awhile back. I can’t exactly remember how it goes— it’s like two positives equal a negative, or something like that— and it means that when there’s two good things, it cancels out the bad one. We could try and apply it here.”

He gave you a curious look. “Really? How?”

“Well, since we both can’t sleep— that’s the negative— maybe. . . maybe if we slept. . .” You felt your face burning at your suggestion. “If we slept. . . tog— well, not together-together, I mean— with each— does that sound worse? I—” you struggled to find the right wording that wouldn’t come off as suggestive. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you added hastily, misunderstanding his bemused expression.

“Little Quill,” he teased you lightly, “you haven’t even gotten the question out.”

Oh. You only felt even more embarrassed. “Do you want to sleep in my room?” you finally managed to blurt out, burying your face in your hands, unable to look at the boy across from you.

Instead of taking offense or making fun of you as you’d expected, Adam seemed to actually consider your offer. “Do you think it would work?”

At his question, you dropped your hands to your lap and shrugged, though your face was still very red. He seemed remarkably unflustered, not that you could tell if he was (damn his beautiful golden skin— wait, what?) “I don’t know,” you mumbled, still refusing to look at him. “I can only sleep if I feel safe, and there’s only one person I ever felt that way with— Mantis. But. . . now I think that includes you, too.”

Adam couldn’t help the bright smile that formed on his face at your words, the thought that you felt safe with him (especially after everything that he’d done to you and your friends) meant more than he could say. The thought that you would willingly be vulnerable in his presence made his stomach feel enjoyably— and inexplicably— nauseous. “I feel safe around you too,” he replied without hesitation. “And. . . I wouldn’t mind trying it.”

Not long after, the two of you returned to the room you were renting in the dorm-style building. Since neither you nor Adam had family to speak of (and were also short on funds), you’d both found rooms in a tenant building that had lots of other people, many of whom had lost their homes during the Guardians’ most recent adventures. Luckily you’d gotten a room to yourself, though you had to share basic facilities with everyone else.

“You can sleep in the bed since this was my idea,” you offered. You were still in what you considered your pajamas, so you just had to gather some spare blankets and pillows.

Adam shook his head, against the thought of you making accommodations for him. “I can sleep on the floor. You shouldn’t have to give up your bed.”

“It’s not like I use it much anyway,” you joke, pulling the covers back. “But if you’re seriously against me sleeping on the floor, I guess we could. . . share?”

He seemed not to mind your proposal as he agreed readily, and after taking off his shoes, he made to get in when you spoke again with a confused look on your face. “You. . . sleep in your clothes? No wonder why you can’t get comfortable!”

Adam seemed to not understand your comment. “You sleep in your clothes.”

You laughed a little at his observation. “These are sleep clothes, not everyday clothes. At least take off your jacket,” you reasoned.

But as he did so, you realized why he hadn’t gotten more comfortable: there was nothing except chiseled chest under his clothes. You blushed and tried (but failed) not to stare as he got into bed next to you, admiring the way his muscles flexed with his movement. Luckily he seemed to not notice your attention as he settled next to you. There was a sizeable gap between you two despite the bed not being very big, one that you wished you had the guts to close. (Wait— again, what?)

You wondered how you’d ever get to sleep with all that muscle right behind you (okay, this one you could admit freely), but somehow, in the quiet stillness of your dark room, the safe, peaceful feeling lulled you into the first restful slumber that you’d had since your siblings had left months ago.

And if you woke up the next morning, curled up against Adam’s chest with his arm wrapped around you protectively, neither of you bothered to say anything about it.

#adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x y/n #adam warlock x you #adam warlock imagine #will poulter x reader #will poulter imagine #mcu #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #marvel imagine #mcu fic #adam warlock fluff #sharing a bed trope #gotg v3 #gotg imagine #guardians of the galaxy #adam warlock fanfiction

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shadesoflsk · 11 months ago

Text

FOR MORE YEARS TO COME

pairing: leon kennedy x gn reader.

summary: Just Leon celebrating New Year. Brief mentions of alcohol (He doesn't drink) and suggestive words but nothing much. This is once again straight up fluff hehe.

wc: 1.2k something short to end this year.

🪐 masterlist

The room was filled with cheerful voices and background music. Chris and Claire have so gratefully held a New Year's Eve party and obviously, both Leon and you were invited.

Parties weren't Leon's thing, being surrounded by people and not being able to hear anything that happened outside those 4 walls made him a bit fidgety. Nonetheless, this would be the first time he gets to spend this amazing holiday with his most trusted people.

And you, of course.

On his right hand, there is a glass of orange juice – since he has long stopped drinking alcohol, for his and your sake. He took a sip and excused himself before approaching you.

You were on the balcony, admiring the view Chris' apartment provided. The night sky was adorned by fireworks which flooded your heart with a warm feeling of joyfulness.

That's it until you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Lovely night, isn't it?” He flashes a charming smile to you. He carried an aura of mischievous and teasing, and with the way he spoke, you could sense he was indulging in some type of light-hearted role-playing.

“It surely is.” You chuckle and shake your head. Being with Leon was never boring and he made sure you always remember that.

“May I have your name?” Leon asks, placing his elbow on the railing. He holds the orange juice glass as if it were an expensive liquor, giving him the appearance of a playboy or some flirty random dude.

“I have a boyfriend.” You try your best to hide the smirk that is threatening to form on your face.

“That's a weird name but hey, I won't judge you.” He brings his glass of orange juice to his lips, chuckling while doing so.

“Sir, I have a boyfriend.” You responded back, crossing your arms trying to sound pissed.

“Yeah, but I don't see him.” He grins, making a fool of himself just for the sake of watching you laugh.

You just roll your eyes at Leon's act. And he takes this opportunity to snake an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Hey! My boyfriend is going nuts if he sees this.” You feign a disgusted expression even though your hands betray your words, they quickly find their place on Leon's shoulder.

“Let him be.” He murmured as he nuzzled his face on your cheek, his stubble feeling like sandpaper against your skin.

Although dating Leon had his ups and downs, especially after a rough phase when he pushed everyone away, you still loved him nonetheless. You knew it wouldn't be easy and it never will be, but you could always try with him.

Naturally, life isn't a straight line that would always give him misery and depressive thoughts. After a storm, there's always a rainbow and he believes he's finally seeing colors when everything used to be black and white.

Opening up with friends slowly brought back his usual self. He still wonders if his life is going on the right track, especially when one of his missions gets too hard to handle. However, as soon as he looks back and sees how many great things he has achieved, a smile forms on his face.

Just like right now, as your perfume fills his nostrils he can't help but feel like a teenager in love. He doesn't care that he's basically clinging onto you, life’s too short to be shy about showing his love to his love.

“Someone's being clingy.” You drop the act as your fingers run through his hair.

“I missed you.” His words are muffled as his lips are glued to your right cheek.

“I was away just for a minute.”

“Worst minute of my entire life.”

You laugh. Like him, you often get overwhelmed by these festivities. You appreciate the thought, but sometimes, recharging your social battery is very much needed.

“So…” The way he stretched that so immediately made you think that something was stirring in that brain of his. “Wanna go somewhere more private?”

You didn't miss the sultry tone in his voice.

And neither did you miss the opportunity.

“Ah…”

Both of you let out a satisfied breath as you snuggle closer to one another, a thick blanket surrounding your bodies as a movie plays in the background.

When you first heard Leon's proposal, your mind wandered through each different scenario. Most of them include both of you tangled in the sheets after a session of private time.

However, after making up an excuse, saying goodbyes, and wishing everybody a happy new year, you found yourself in a predicament.

As soon as you reached your home, exhaustion took over the both of you. So, when you walked towards the bedroom, you gave each other a look that could only translate into:

Cuddling time.

So, that's how you find yourself now. Cocooned in the blankets and letting out soft breaths, drowning in the sea of peace and tranquility, something that Leon has grown to love.

“What time is it?” Leon suddenly asks with a calm voice, not wanting to break the pleasant atmosphere that was set in the room.

“Mhm… Don’t know.” You murmur, laziness taking over you as your hand clumsily attempts to find your cell phone.

After wriggling and writhing for a hot minute, you finally found your cell phone and returned to your previous position. Your tired eyes focus on the screen as the clock reads 11:58 PM.

“Fuck, It’s almost midnight.” You tell Leon, showing him the time.

He slowly turns his head from the TV back to you, an adoring gaze adorning his face while doing so.

“Would you look at that? Another year of being stuck with me.” Leon jokes as he presses his forehead against yours, his blue eyes almost heart-like as he admires you.

This year has been… hectic for both of them. But especially to him. After almost giving up and selling his soul to his own addiction and despair, he could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, even though it was still so faint that he could barely believe he was lucky enough to live a simple life.

But there he is.

His life as an agent wasn’t done, far from that. However, he has made peace with his broken pieces. He couldn’t fix something that was inherently his, but he could surely embrace it and keep moving forward.

After he said those words, you simply chuckled and gave him a warm smile. You were proud of how far he has come.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

And for a moment, you let the silence fill your room. Safe and love are the words Leon would often use to describe what being with you means. And in moments like these, he restates his own statement.

Eventually, you break the silence as you turn on your cell phone one more time. You checked the time and it no longer showed a two-digit hour.

“I guess that I have to say Happy New Year?” You laugh as you admit that both of you have missed the New Year’s countdown, even though you were in solitude.

“Well… Happy New Year to you too, my love.” He says, a grin appearing on his face. “But that makes me realize something…”

With the way his goofy smile remained tugged on his lips, you could already guess what he was trying to say.

“Please, don’t say it.”

“I haven’t kissed you since last year!”

Another year with his corny jokes…

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil

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37sommz-archive · 4 months ago

Text

CH. 04. NOW PLAYING: lunch by billie eilish [fluff]. ✼.⠀summary: michaela draws the attention of dts, 1.5k. ✼.⠀view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request.

✼.⠀MARCH 14, 2019 — melbourne, australia

“Formula One returns this weekend with the season opener in Australia. The return of Honda to the pinnacle of motorsports finds itself overshadowed by the racing debut of a rookie.”

“Michaela Sommers will take on a historic role in today’s race. The Australian will become the first woman since Lella Lombardi to be entered in and race for points.”

The coverage of the rookie’s historic weekend is set over images of the season’s twenty drivers moving through the Melbourne crowds. Nineteen pairs of feet adorned in their teams’ respective colors exit the small cruise ship, excitement for the new season bringing a lightness to their steps. Daniel Ricciardo, the senior Australian on the grid, stops to sign a fan’s yellow Renault hat. His trademark smile falters for a brief moment as he turns to look behind him.

His bright expression melts into one of concern as he catches sight of the Toro Rosso rookie, Alex Albon, but not his shorter friend. In two long strides, the Renault driver is at the Thai driver’s side. Both among the taller drivers, their heads peek out beyond the orange cap of the Mclaren rookie, Lando Norris, just ahead of them. Engrossed in taking a photo with a young fan, Alex is soon pulled out of his motions by the senior driver. With a tattooed hand on his shoulder, the camera crew strains to capture the shot. The microphones pinned to the lapels of their team polos pick up a few low words.

“Where’s Michaela? She was just behind me off the boat.”

The Australian’s words carry a noticeable twang to them. His accent bleeds with concern before it is starkly contrasted by the posher, lilted British accent of the Toro Rosso driver. His head whips to check the exit ramp still attached to the small cruise they had all taken across the channel. His shoulders rise as if attempting to kiss his ear lobes.

“They haven’t removed the ramp. She must be on the boat still?”

As quickly as he delivered the response to the Australian’s question was the same quickness it took for his attention to be captured once more by another fan. An older boy this time who excitedly began to rattle off how he had been robbed by an untimely Safety Car at a race he finished just outside podium the previous Formula Two season.

Snickering to himself, the Renault-donned Australian lifts his cap to run a tanned hand through his curly brown hair. He releases a breath in reaction to both the missing rookie and the heat bubbling through the force of the crowd.

The episode cuts away from the occupied drivers to another scene. The cameraman focuses on a restroom door aboard the aforementioned boat, silence rings through the scene before the a feminine humming pulls the action back together. A click of the door echoes through the empty hall before a head of platinum blonde hair, the roots kept a darker tone, peeks out behind the white door. The owner’s eyes finally make contact with the cameraman, a mischievous smile adorns the young woman’s warm features.

Pushing the door open, she exhales softly with a throw of her intentionally waved platinum hair over her shoulder. The red accents of her black Alfa Romeo polo stand out against her bleached hair and browned skin.

Her smile never falters as she leads the cameraman away from the hallway to the ramp awaiting her exit.

“Had to touch up my makeup.” She explains her absence casually before allowing herself a polite nod to the crew left on the small boat.

“The humidity’s already done a number on my lashes. Got them all clumpy and shit.” She mutters the swear under her breath as if hoping the microphone would be unable to pick it up.

“George is covering for me,” she says with a spark of comfortability, adding an muttered caveat with, “I hope.” Her steps come to a halt in front of a mirror, her hands move to arrange her hair before smoothly adjusting her polo and flashing a smile to check her teeth.The ease she exhibits in front of the camera is noted to be a stark contrast to the other more reserved personalities among the grid.

It is another three steps before she is descending down the ramp. A paler hand reaches out to land upon the shoulder of the Alfa Romeo. The hand belonging to the driver’s PR manager brushes away at a stray wave covering up the team logo. With a smile, the driver hands over a tube of mascara, silently thanking her before making her final exit onto the pavement where the fans lie in anxious await.

Murmurs in the crowd turn to roars as the home-turf rookie makes her final descent. Her short manicured nails catch their sights as she waves to their joyous cheers. The previewed smile first shown to the cameraman trailing behind her grows impossibly brighter before a kiss is blown to the crowd before her.

Their roars begin to fade as the scene switches once more. The same driver depicted in the previous moments returns to the screen. Her smile absent from her face as she carefully adjusts her uniform before moving to place an Alfa Romeo cap upon her platinum blonde locks.

“Whenever you’re ready,” the producer’s voice rang out from behind the camera. As if flipping an ‘on’ switch, her lips pull into the familiar bright smile.

“Okay. My name is Michaela Sommers and I am a rookie driver for Alfa Romeo Racing.” Her faintly manicured hand raises with a thumbs up directed towards the producer.

Her eyes widen in question releasing a gentle, “Was that it?”, in confirmation she had successfully met their requirements. “Tell us your name and who you race for,” had been their previous instruction. After a glance to the sound engineer, the producer mirrors her thumbs up.

“Michaela Sommers is definitely going to be one of the more scrutinized drivers this year.” Will Buxton takes over the scene as it cuts to his thoughts. “As the most recent Formula Two champion, she’s got everything to prove and everything to lose.”

His face is replaced by a compilation of Michaela’s wheel to wheel racing in the previous season’s championship. Her iconic red Prema Racing car twists and turns in waltzes against the cars of George Russell, Lando Norris, and Alex Albon; the other promoted drivers from her championship season.

“She had a fantastic Formula Two season. Complete dominance from the very first turn and she never let her foot off the gas.”

Another montage takes over the screen, this time showcasing her shattering eleven wins across feature and sprint races. As the montage plays out, the Australian lifts trophies above her head with the widest of smiles on her face. The drivers poised on either side of her change with every celebration but she remains upon the top step. Ending with a shot of a spray of champagne dousing her in sweet alcohol, the scene shifts back to Will Buxton.

“She’s a damn good driver. One of the best talents we’ve seen in some time.” His voice continues to speak as the view of her car maneuvering around the most difficult tracks in the world overtakes the view of his face.

“She’s technically sound.” The wheels of her car scrape onto the track, leaving a mark as if signifying her presence that day.

“Level-headed.” Her voice emerges with a crackle as she narrowly misses a catastrophic crash with a more reckless driver. A calm, sing-songy, “Down boy, too close.” Echoes as Will’s voice comes to replace her’s once more.

“With the latest breaking you’ll ever see,” he completes his thoughts with a laugh. True to his words, the next few scenes are another compilation of her overtaking into and out of turns. Her car pointed in an almost perfect position with each overlaying video.

“The expectations couldn’t be higher for her. She’s got the talent and the confidence to take her career into the stratosphere. But there’s an unprecedented amount of pressure being placed on her shoulders.” His expression turns solemn at the release of his last statement.

As he begins to explain the thought, the subject of his speech comes into view once again. She nods as he hears the producer’s question. Buxton’s voice continues to speak over the silence of her clip, “Every race, every moment of her time is going to be examined under a microscope and used as a thesis on female drivers. It’s almost unfair. Almost.”

His voice cuts away as Michaela waits in anticipation of answering the producer’s question.

“Do you think you’ll be given a fair chance at succeeding in Formula One?” The producer’s question is met with silence at first. As she chooses her words carefully, Michaela’s name appears on the screen in bold white letters. Tilting her head to the side, her eyes exude a level of seriousness previously unseen to the audience. All it takes is another beat before the background music quiets and Michaela decides upon the right answer.

“I don’t think I care if they do. I’ll find a way to win regardless. Even if it’s out of spite.”

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@melancholyy-hill

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allophonicmess · 11 months ago

Text

Sweetest Taste

Masterlist

15th Doctor x Reader (One Shot)

Part of the Doctor and Sun universe but can be read as a stand-alone

SMUT ( fem oral reciving & P in V)

4.3K

Tags: Fluff, Smut, body worship, consent, unprotected sex, established relationship

June offered the perfect time to visit London's Kensington Park for a stroll. Living in the bustling, vibrant city, you came to love it over the years. The park gates acted like a separator between the cold, busy and unpersonal streets and the lush green gardens that offered a sense of connectedness for the visitors, allowing them to escape from the pressure of the city and simply decompress and be.

You pulled at your clothes, making sure that you looked your best. It wasn't your first meeting; it was far from it. Yet, this day marked your first proper meeting with him in this new body, and it made you both excited and nervous, just like the previous times you two saw each other again with new eyes. Literally.

You felt a grin spread over your lips as you passed the black gates that separated the greenery from the greyish street. Passing the café, you stood momentarily, eyes wandering over the small, chapel-like building, the calm scene, and artistically set up plans in the middle of the grass. To your left, the view opened into the display of dark-orange cranesbills, lavender and other flowers. The ensemble reminded you of the sunset, rich in colour and contrast. Behind it, a line of angular ponds, lined with waterplants and accompanied by beautifully crafted benches, created the scene of the Italian Gardens.

This was the place you had decided to meet. You stayed on the reddish pavement, following one of the main routes through the park. The white oldtimer turned ice cream vendor stood in its usual place, attracting a small crowd of eager customers. They had formed a line, waiting patiently for their turn to receive their sweet treat.

"Should have clarified the time we meet", you mainly mumbled to yourself. You had told him when and where to meet you but in a more broad sense. Yet daytime also played a key role. You looked around for a moment. Perhaps a walk would be good to pass the time. You could follow the Long Water, take a look at one of the many statues and then come back a little later to see if he arrived at your set location. Or you could start searching for the big, blue police telephone box. It shouldn't be hard to find unless he fixed the chameleon circuit. Perhaps this new Doctor got tired of the Tardis' look, but you doubt it.

"Figured you'd be here around noon. Love to spend your-"He continued, but you interrupted him, finishing the sentence alongside him.

"Well, good on me to have thought of that" he spoke, the playful tone of his new voice made your grin before you consciously processed it. It was as if your body was drawn to him, able to recognise it anywhere, regardless of sound, tone or pitch. Always recognising, always drawn to it.

You turned around with a soft gasp, and there he stood. A big, inviting smile stretched over his face, adorned by a thin, trimmed moustache. His eyes held a twinkle that you couldn't quite explain. Youthful joy and pure ecstasy were the best words you could find. There were two ice cones, one in each hand. 99 Flake, you noticed. Vanilla soft ice with a chocolate flake, Simple yet classy.

"-lunch break in the park." You chuckled, approaching him and taking the cool dessert with a soft "Thank you".

"Bring some ice cream, you said. And here we are!" he cheered with a joyous laugh. You nodded, letting your eyes wander over his new look. He had changed; he put on some actual clothes. You didn't mind his 50/50 Bi-generation look, but it was… impractical for travelling.

He noticed your wandering eyes and decided to play into it. The Doctor stepped back, giving you a little swirl that made his orange leather coat swish. He had dressed up nicely. The outfit was new, certainly different from what he used to wear, yet it suited him so very well.

It reflected him, the healed and refreshed mindset expressed in daybreak's bright and daring colours. He wore light, striped sneakers, contrasting with the dark blue trousers. 'He really put some thought into this,' you thought, noticing the repetition of colours on his top. The zipper of his striped jumper was opened halfway, revealing the view of the necklace set he wore. An orange gem on one chain and an odd-looking golden shape on the other. They rested over a soft patch of dark chest hair that you took immediate interest in.

"You like it?" He asked with a flirty wink, stepping closer again and taking your free hand.

"Yeah, very stylish. It's new. Different, but I think it looks great. Especially the jewellery." You admired, feeling the cool metal of his ringers against your hand as you squeezed it to emphasise your comment.

"Thanks, darling." He chuckled softly, eyes moving from your face to the hand which held your now semi-melted ice cream that threatened to spill over your fingers.

"You want to lick that away before you get your hands dirty." He nodded towards it.

You quickly breathe a soft 'oh', turning the cone in your hand to clean it up. The sweet and creamy liquid made you hum in delight. You noticed that the Doctor was about to be in the same predicament as you. The molten cream snailing over the wafer.

"Same with yours. Don't want to make a mess." You joked, looking him in the eye. But he stayed serious, keeping eye contact for longer than you would find appropriate for the situation.

Then, there was a shift in the air around you. The soft reunion of lovers turning into something else…

His eyes focused on you as he licked away a streak of melted ice cream that dared to run down the cone. Those dark eyes watching you intently, clearly aware of the sexual allusion the action carried.

He grinned cheekily at your loss of words, clearly aware of what he was doing to you. But he wanted to take his sweet time with you. He enjoyed teasing you before, always did, but now it had a different tone to it. He felt a rush, watching you struggle; your attraction to him was undeniable.

Oh goodness, that stare was stirring something in you.

You released a breath, eyes following his pink tongue slide along the brown wafer with perfect pressure. He took his sweet time, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

"Uh…" You started, gasped really, at a loss of words. Regeneration was a gamble, and you won.

"My plan?" You asked, shifting in your seat to get a better look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want to sit down?" He asked softly, sweetly, with an innocent look. He waited for your approving nod, then placed his arm around your waist to lead you to one of the benches that lined the fountains.

You tried to calm down and get your pulse back to normal. You had seen him just yesterday. The other version of him, still him though. But this new factette of him thrilled you, willing to play along in his little game. It only would make winning the price sweeter and much more satisfying.

The two of you sat down on a bench. The wood under you had been warmed in the sun, making for a cosy spot. The Doctor moved in closely, placing one arm over the backrest. His hand rested on your shoulder and arm, stroking over it in a slow, calming motion.

"You chose a lovely spot", He commented, watching the place and people around him. He slid a little closer, making your thighs touch. He looked into the distance, where the Long Water widened into a river.

"So what's your plan?" He turned back to you, taking a lazy lick of his treat. He was almost finished.

"I was wondering how you want to proceed now. Do you want to keep your routine? Work, here on Earth? Travel?" He squeezed your shoulder, waiting patiently for your response. His head was turned back, the light shifting in his short, dark hair. The colour bordering between black and a lush midnight blue.

"I liked the routine. Me staying here, taking care of Earth while you are off. You taking me on dates when you find the time." You shrugged.

"Oh yeah? I'm glad to hear it." He pulled you in for another kiss. It was less passionate but undoubtedly made you feel his love. The Doctor petted your face quietly, watching you with warm admiration.

He sighed, something shifting behind his eyes. "I should have made more time for you." He whispered with some sense of grief behind it. "You deserve so much more than what I offered you." He moved even closer, and the arm around you pulled you into him. His hand moved towards your face.

He held your face gently, fingers curled and ringed knuckles resisting against your pulse as his thumb glided over your cheek.

"That will change now. You will be my priority." His eyes moved between your eyes and your lips, silently asking for permission to kiss you. You granted it, leaning forward to meet him in a soft, shy kiss. It was new, different to the feeling and rhythm you were used to. But you adapted, just like so many times prior. You found a new rhythm with him, lips moving in a sweet dance.

The two of you only let go to catch a breath of air, grinning shyly at each other like smitten teenagers. "You liked that?" He whispered with a breathy chuckle. Your actions, visible acceptance of this new version of him, took away the feeling of nervousness.

"Yeah, very much." You replied with a smile, just as relieved as him. Change was a constant in your lives. Things and people; everything was constantly changing. Yet you remained.

"I'll admit: I'm a fan of this." You vaguely motioned towards him, his face and body. "It suits you." Your own smile widened as he seemed to light up. The complement boosted his already strong confidence and charm. He radiated a warmth that you just wanted to bask in.

You didn't mind the silence. It felt easy and natural. But you were giddy, high on his smile and the joy you felt. So your brain went into overdrive, leading to making a silly confession.

"You know what I couldn't stop thinking about?" You asked, unable to hold back a childish giggle, already overly excited to reveal it.

"What?" He asked, watching you intently.

"Those thighs." You giggled, placing a hand on his left leg for emphasis. The woolly material of his trousers was rather rough against your fingers. But you felt his warmth seeping through the pant leg.

"Is that so?" He grinned. First, it was innocent, playing to your joke. But then it turned hungry before shifting into a stern expression.

And there it was again, that tension around you.

"You know what I kept thinking about?" He asked, his thumb tracing your lip.

You only managed to let out a breath of air. Yet he took it as a response to reveal it to you.

"I kept thinking about how sweet you will taste on this new tongue."

Oh, you were done for.

Your eyes met his. A spark was ignited the moment you saw the lust and longing reflected in his intense stare.

"Take me. Now."

What ensued was a mad rush for the Tardis. He grabbed your hand and practically dragged you off to the location of the well-known police call box. He had parked it just outside the other park gates. There, resting in the shade of tall plane trees, right next to old and out-of-use red telephone boxes. You would have laughed at it and appreciated the joke if it hadn't been for the delicious ache between your legs and the heat that flushed your body.

The Doctor practically ripped open the Tardis door, letting you in before him. He stepped in quickly and slammed the door shut the moment you were both inside. And not even a second later, you found yourself pressed against said door. Pillowy lips caressed yours as soft hums escaped between them, and strong hands grasped at your sides. All you could see and feel was him.

You threw your arms around his neck, gently scratching his neck and toying with the collar of his leather coat. That evoked a hiss from him; his tone made pain and pleasure mix.

"Need more of you." He hissed, placing his hands under your ass and pulling you up. You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles behind him to create stability. Thank the universe for Timelords' strength. He didn't carry you very far, though, slowly setting you down on the edge of the Tardis console. The surface was slightly sloped, but the new design allowed for free space between the control elements. You believe it might even have been made like this on purpose. Naughty machine.

This new position allowed you to be on eye level with the Doctor, if not, being a little taller than him. He noticed it, too, breaking away from you and grinning at you with marvel. You placed your hands on his jaw, feeling the skin there, the shaved hair over his sharp cheekbones. You pulled him in for another kiss, this time leading him in it. You held him there momentarily before your hands smoothed over his neck, along his ears and back down to the coat collar. A tuck signified him to shrug it off, and he obliged. The garment fell to the floor with a soft swoosh, leaving him in his jumper and pants.

You broke the kiss slowly, pressing your forehead to his as your hands wandered over his shoulders and back, feeling the strong yet lean muscle underneath the woolly material. He did the same, tugging at your jacket and shirt in the hope of finally being able to touch your skin. You let the coat slip from your arms, lifting them immediately to let him pull off your shirt. It left you in only your bra, sitting on the white metal console.

"You look like a goddess", He sighed, going for your neck and the soft spot behind your ear. The kisses there turned into playful nibbles as he carefully held the skin between his teeth to suck at it. It made you gasp, a shower running down your spine. You pulled the Doctor into an even closer embrace, hands holding him firmly.

He hummed against your skin, hands massaging the skin of your waste. His lips moved lower, over your clevis, down to the spot on your breast bone just above where your breasts connected to the skin. He licked down a stripe, only halting when he was stopped by your bra. It made him look up.

"Will you allow me to find out?" He looked you deep in the eye, waiting for your consent. His fingers were tracing along the hem of your jeans, eager to have you be rid of them. You nodded, holding onto his shoulders.

"I need you to use your words, darling." He kissed your jaw for emphasis; his right hand had moved up to the small of your back, tracing the spot where your spine connected.

"Yes, please." You managed to answer, already pushing yourself up on his shoulders to make it easier to free yourself of your pants. He grinned, making quick work of the zipper and button. He freed the jeans and underwear from under you with a swift pull. His hands explored the now-exposed skin of your thighs before pulling off your shoes to take off your pants for good.

He sighed at the view in front of him. Lips skimming over your thighs as he slowly and gracefully got to his knees. His hands traced over your back and down to your hips, squeezing them. The Doctor looked like he was about to pray, eyes focused up at you in admiration, soft breaths excepting through his slightly opened lips. He pulled you forward by your hips, making you lean forward and stabilise yourself with one hand on his shoulder and one on the console.

"My good girl." He whispered into the soft skin of your thigh, the moustache deliciously ticking you. His hands were on your knees, keeping your legs spread for him.

"Let me have some of that sweet taste." He mumbled before he oh so slowly licked over your core. You gasped, feeling his hot breath on you and heavenly pleasure against your clit. He kept his eyes focused on you, licking in slow motions before taking your pleasure bud in his mouth and gently sucking on it. The sensation was otherworldly, making you throw your head back. Years of experience had made him so good at making you gasp and scream, and the regeneration into a woman had evidently benefited his understanding of female pleasure.

He kept at it, lapping at you like his life depended on it. At some point, one of his hands had moved from your knees to your thigh, massaging it gently in the rhythm of his licks. You weren't going to last long if he kept going like this.

You moaned softly, trying to gather the energy and will to make him move. While this was great, you needed to feel him inside you.

A hand was placed on his head, making him stop to look at you.

"Too much?" He asked; the wet shine of your juices on his moustache made you even hotter.

"No, it's great, but I need you to feel you." You explained weakly, "I need to feel you inside me." You slid slightly lower on the console to get down on shaky legs, hoping they could hold you up.

But he was faster, swiftly getting back on his feet to carry you like he did before. The dark wool was rubbing against your core deliciously with each step as he carried you over the ramp towards the bedroom.

The Doctor placed you on the edge of the bed with just as much care and admiration as he had picked you up with. He was crouched before you, smiling softly in anticipation. You grinned, smoothing your hands over his neck and over the cool metal of his jewellery. The zipper of his jumper was only halfway open, so you took the little metal handle to open it fully, allowing you access to the gentle splatter of chest hair. Your hands moved over his torso, but you had to stop as the material offered no more room before the seams would give away.

"You are overdressed", You stated, making him chuckle. He readily lifted your arms to help get rid of his clothes. Fingers snuck under the waistband of his pants, grabbing onto not only the jumper and the light undershirt as well.

"Much better", you mumbled, placing your hands on his chest to explore it. He was fitter than you expected. Muscles stretched and flexed under your hands, and he brought his arms back down to hold your shoulders, pushing the straps of your bra down. He moved awkwardly from one foot to the other to shrug off his trainers.

That left him in his socks and pants. Still, too much, you decided and started fumbling with the button of his trousers.

"You got what you wanted. Let me see those legs again." You joked, making him laugh as he freed himself of the last of his clothing. He leaned over you, kissing you softly as he worked on the hooks of your bra. It hadn't been long since the two of you had had sex. But not with this body; it excited you to feel him again.

You slid back on the bed, allowing him to kneel and hover over you. The bra had been taken care of and thrown on the pile of clothing on the floor at the foot of the bed. You were getting ready to lay on the bed, having moved the duvet and additional pillows aside, but the Doctor stopped you.

"Can we try something?" He asked, still leaning over you, hands caressing your neck and the back of your shoulders as you turned towards him.

"Yeah, sure." You answered, interested in what he had in mind.

He kissed you again, gently holding your lower lip between his teeth before letting it go to focus on you.

"I want you on top." He stated simply. Kissing along your neck, fingers tracing your sides. "I want to watch you take what you need." He spoke against your chest in between soft kisses. "Is that alright?"

He asked, and you never knew that asking you for your consent to try something new would be so hot.

"Yes," You hissed. He had taken one of your nipples in his mouth, gently sucking on it and holding the other breast in his hand. His thumb was moving over the other in soft circles.

"Lovely." He commented, giving your chest one last kiss before leaning away from you to arrange the pillows to make himself comfortable. A few were placed against the headboard, allowing him to lie in a half-sitting position. The Doctor nodded to you, signalling that he was ready.

"C'mon then. Let me feel you." He beckoned you, hissing in pleasure when you moved over to him, lowering yourself over his lap. His cock was half erect, so you pumped it a few times, letting the tip grace over your folds.

"You are so good", He whispered, eyes closed in pleasure. He reached for your body, hands exploring your back. "So good to me." He mumbled, already drunk on you.

You positioned him, slowly lowering yourself into his lap and moaning in pleasure just as he did. You took a few breaths, stabilising yourself on his shoulders. He felt different but filled you oh so deliciously.

"I'm gonna move now." You announced, making him nod. His hands had found their place on your hips, pulling your torso a little forward. He looked up as you filled his vision. You looked ethereal; the dimmed light of the Tardis was behind you, creating a halo around you.

"My goddess, my sweet sweet girl." He groaned, pushing his hips into yours to reach deeper.

He held you, slowly pulling your chest into him. You were both catching your breaths, lying in a loving embrace.

You were both getting close.

He held you as you rode him, feeling blissful to see the expression of pleasure on your face. You felt your core tighten. His gentle fingers and thrusts move you closer to the edge.

"Go on," He said, moving onto his elbows to kiss along your neck. "Take what you need. I want to see you come."

His encouragement drove you closer; you fasten your paste while he uses his hands on your hips to push himself more deeply with each thrust. You were becoming hazy, so close to that sweet release. He noticed it, too, finding the soft spot behind your ear and sucking on it gently.

That threw you over the edge, coming with a gasp. You could feel your cervix pulsating, squeezing him inside you.

"That's it." He chuckled softly, but it quickly turned into a moan as he, too, came. The sight of your orgasm, the fact that his words and actions had helped you reach that sweet spot. It gave him the last push to tip over the edge and cum.

"I love you so much", He mumbled against your ear, fingers skimming over your back and holding you close.

You hummed, "I Love you, too. Till the end of time," You turned your head away from its position against his neck to kiss him softly.

You stayed that way for a moment longer, petting each other gently and sharing kisses. With a soft groan, you let his cook slip out. You managed to shift onto the side, leaning next to him. You were spent, happy to feel the soft comfort of the bed underneath you.

The Doctor sat up to reach for the duvet at the foot of the bed, placing it over the two of you. He had lifted his arm to let you move on his chest, just like you always did.

No words were spoken as you moved to place your head on his chest, your free hand gently laying next to it. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, arm wrapped around you and fingers smoothing over your arm in a slow back and forth.

He sighed, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of you next to him. He wouldn't mind staying like this for the rest of his life and the ones following it.

You shifted a little to look at him, your eyes meeting, smiling softly at each other.

"What do you want to do now?" You asked softly, drawing patterns into his skin.

He hummed, thinking for a moment.

"The club? You go partying?" You asked, chucking at the absurd idea. He had never been to a club, not that you knew about. But with each regeneration came new quirks.

"I wouldn't mind a nap." He joked, smile widening as he saw you laugh. He squeezed your shoulder softly before leaning back.

"How about a nap. And then we go to the club?" He offered.

"Yeah, I feel like we should go to a club. Maybe something exciting will happen." He winked, leaning forward to kiss you again before settling into the pillows and closing his eyes.

#doctor who #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #dw specials #reader insert #dw #fifteenth doctor #15th doctor x reader #15th doctor #15th!Doctor x reader #smut #fluff #timelord!reader #timelord #doctor who fanfiction

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from-memphis-with-love · 3 months ago

Text

All In

Summary: It's the swinging '60s, baby, and Elvis Presley is the grooviest spy this side of the Rockies. He's in Monaco on a new mission, breaking hearts and breaking codes.

* Elvis doesn't like losing, but he's good at it.

Losing isn't so bad when he has to, it’s just a role to play like any other. Winning, though—a victory lap or getting the girl—that's what Elvis loves. He’s too competitive, that's his problem.

Usually. Today is different.

The sun slices through early-morning clouds, casting long shadows across the potted bougainvillea on his balcony. A lizard darts across the sun-warmed travertine. Elvis leans back in his chair, the white lacquered wicker creaking beneath his weight as he takes a sip of freshly-squeezed orange juice. It’s tart and tangy, made from Sicilian blood oranges flown in specially for hotel guests. He could get used to this, he thinks, even though anything would be better than his last job in Albuquerque.

The view from his room is breathtaking—a panorama of the glistening Mediterranean Sea, palm trees standing sentinel along the shore, and the winding streets of the principality. Above it all, both figuratively and literally, sits the Casino de Monte-Carlo, an opulent sugar cube of a gambling house that has seen countless fortunes won and lost.

Elvis squints against the lettuce green sky, the warm breeze ruffling his jet-black hair. Crossing one long leg over another, his tailored trousers stretching over his lithe frame, Elvis savors the moment. At a perfect 6 feet tall, with piercing blue eyes and a marble-chiseled profile, he cuts a striking figure even in repose.

It's a perfect August day, the kind that makes one forget there's always work to do, even in a paradise like this.

A knock at the door interrupts his reverie. “Room service,” a muffled voice calls out.

Elvis rises and pads for the door, greeting the uniformed attendant with a warm smile. “Morning,” he says, stepping aside to let the man enter.

The attendant wheels in a cart laden with covered dishes. “Where would you like me to set up, sir?” he asks.

“The terrace, please,” Elvis replies, watching as the man efficiently arranges the dishes on the table. “Thank you…?” He pauses, waiting for a name.

“Jean-Luc, sir,” the attendant supplies with a slight bow.

“Thank you, Jean-Luc.” Elvis nods approvingly and hands the young man a few crisp bills, a generous tip reflecting his own working-class roots. He knows two things for sure: Jean-Luc works exceptionally hard for his money, and he probably knows more than he should about every hotel guest. He might prove useful.

Jean-Luc's eyes widen slightly as he pockets the tip, his posture straightening imperceptibly. "If there's anything else you need, sir, please don't hesitate to ask." His tone carries a hint of conspiratorial understanding, a recognition of the unspoken agreement between them.

Elvis gives him a smile, equal parts charming and enigmatic. "I'll keep that in mind."

With a final nod, Jean-Luc takes his leave, the door closing softly behind him. Elvis settles back into his chair, his mind already racing with the possibilities of this new connection.

On the table before him, a sumptuous breakfast: buttery croissants, jam, slices of blackened bacon, and a variety of cheeses. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the salty sea air. Elvis unfolds the crinkled newspaper, his sharp gaze scanning the headlines for anything of interest. He's expecting a message, a signal that will set today's events in motion. He knows Reginald would never let him down.

As he turns the page, a small butterfly of a note flutters to the ground. Reaching down, his fingers trace the embossed CIA seal, the paper smooth and cool to the touch.

Ah, there it is.

Elvis' pulse quickens as scans the writing: 22 Avenue de la Costa. He turns the scrap of paper over in his fingers, searching for any additional clues, but the reverseis blank. The message is clear enough: whatever awaits him, it's not going to be a walk in the park. He’s been in the game long enough to know that when Reginald plays things close to the vest, it means the stakes are higher than ever.

His handler had been unusually tight-lipped during their briefing. But that’s just the way Elvis likes it. The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward. And such secrecy could only mean one thing–this job is tough. Dangerous. The kind of high-stakes operation that gets Elvis’ blood pumping. Let the games begin.

Glancing at his watch, he notes the time: 9:58 AM. The casino won't open for hours, giving him plenty of time to plan his approach. He'll need to be cautious, though. The Duke and Duchess of Castellano, his well-connected friends, have arranged for him to join an exclusive poker game later that evening, one in which he will have to lose. Drawing attention to himself before then wouldn't be wise.

Finishing his breakfast, he stands and stretches his limbs, muscles flexing beneath his shirt. Monaco is a playground for the glitterati, their perfect little jewel box on the Côte d'Azur. But beneath the surface, he knows, lurk secrets and dangers that most people never see. Dangers they could never even dream of.

With practiced efficiency, he hurries across the suite, his mind already shifting into mission mode. He pulls a sleek black case from beneath the bed, his fingers dancing over the combination lock. Inside, an array of gadgets and weapons gleam in the morning light—tools of his trade, each one carefully chosen for maximum impact and minimum detectability.

He selects a few key items: a miniaturized camera, a set of lockpicks, a small vial of a clear liquid that definitely isn't water. Each one designed disappear into the hidden pockets of his suit jacket, concealed with a skill born of years of practice. Elvis learned long ago that preparation is key in this line of work—you never know what you might need until you need it.

It's time to become Anderson “Andy” Davis, a first-time Grand Prix entrant and new pet project of the Monegasque elite. He opens his closet and selects a lightweight blazer and a crisp white shirt—a smart, sensible choice that won't draw a second glance. Dressing quickly, his fingers deftly fasten the buttons, the silk smooth against his skin.

As he checks his reflection in the mirror, Elvis allows himself a small, secret smile. His handsome features, so often a liability in his line of work, are expertly disguised by the subtle changes in his posture and expression. With a final adjustment of his cufflinks, he grabs his room key and heads out the door, the steel heavy in his pocket.

Ready or not, here comes Andy.

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

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thatbanditqueen · 8 months ago

Text

Come Hell or Come Sundown

A Charro! One-Shot

Summary: It is the summer of 1968 and Elvis finds himself in a New Hollywood, no more production code, just a ratings system with the promise of more sex and violence. This is good, because Elvis is in transition too! He is hot off the set of his TV special and ready to make a gritty western he can be proud of. Things are going well, he's making friends on location in Arizona, but then first they cut some of the violence, and now he's not so sure there is going to be any sex scenes in this movie. What's next, are they going to make him sing to his horse?

Inspired by the cut nude bath scene and the notes in Donna Lewis' diary that there were originally sex scenes scripted in Charro!

A response to the writing prompt: "Cowboy Elvis"

Warnings: References to past sexual harassment, minor drug use implied and kissing.

WC: 13.4K

Thanks to my lovely writing support group @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @lookingforrainbows @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @shakerattlescroll @peskybedtime and to @whositmcwhatsit for alpha-ing most of this. It is been a crazy two months, I won't go into it, but if you are still reading my stuff let me know it.

July 29, 1968

Apacheland Arizona

Ina leaned against the back side of the sound stage listening to the cactus wren sing their sunrise melody for the desert. Off in the brush she saw a lizard scurry away. It was early, but the air was already beginning to heat up and hung there thick with promise. She took a sip of her coffee, savoring the light, sweet taste, her heart full of hopeful anticipation for the sweet day ahead.

She ran her fingers down over her blouse, enjoying the smooth empty feeling underneath where round flesh had been a month ago.

This picture had been the answer to her prayers, a sign that she could still land a part as the love interest role. It was a role she knew well, one she had been playing for ten years in vehicles designed to showcase male stars: John Wayne, Paul Newman, Jerry Lewis, and now Elvis. Ina rarely got a leading role in a picture focused on a couple or a strong female character, but she accepted it was still a good salary and it kept her busy on and off between modeling gigs.

Lately, however, the on and off had been more off, and her agent, Mickey, had started talking about auditioning for roles as older sisters, aunts, and even, gasp, mothers.

But then she got this and bam! She had knocked over her phone with excitement as Mickey described this project as a “modern, gritty western.” She’d even agreed to the nudity, accepting her agent’s advice that this was going to open up even more doors now that the production code was gone and the film industry had a new rating system that allowed for mature content.

The first American western with a sex scene. That’s how Chuck, this director, had pitched his script in their first meeting, while also assuring her it would be tasteful and artistic and mainly shot using her facial expressions. She hadn’t cared, signing anywhere they wanted if it meant staving off cinematic spinsterhood for as long as possible.

And then, after carefully examining every dimple in her bottom that night, Ina had launched into a month-long disciplined regimen of ballet classes, black beauties and one meal a day. Ina took a deep breath and inhaled the earthy, floral aroma of the Arizona desert, letting it fill her with confidence. Her tummy was svelte, her skin glowed with a healthy bronze tan, and she was ready to conquer the shoot ahead. She had a feeling about this picture. A good one.

Hollywood was buzzing about the TV special Elvis had just finished shooting. Apparently it was raw and gritty and unvarnished, just like the script for this film. And Chuck, her director, was the king of the westerns, who had been promoting Charro! in the trade press as Peckinpah meets Leone with more sex appeal and heart.

Ina looked out at the orange glow of the desert sky at sunrise one last time as she stomped out her cigarette butt and murmured to herself with hushed excitement.

“What a glorious start to a glorious day.”

She headed back inside and made her way around the back of the set where she bumped into Elvis’ stunt double and friend, Jerry. Ina grinned, she couldn’t help it, Jerry’s serious eyes and rugged shoulders made her heart skip a beat.

“That was some party last night, huh?”

Jerry looked down, his low chuckle heavy with the weight of words unspoken as they both reflected on the prior evening. Ina was sure she saw an echo of her own desire in the warmth dancing behind Jerry’s blue eyes.

“You should talk, Sandy Koufax. Charlie’s grateful he can still see.”

Ina gulped, covering her mouth.. “ Oh no! Is he really hurt? I felt so bad, I was aiming for his stomach.” Ina said, twirling her hair. “Although I didn’t feel nearly as bad after watching Elvis go after Alan with the whole bucket, intentionally, over and over. He really took it to the next level.”

“Oh, that’s just how the bossman lets off steam.”

“That’s one way to put it. Say, where is the old steam engine, anyway?”

“He just went out front to get some dirt on his clothes.”

Ina raised her eyebrow.

“He wants to make sure he has that real cowboy look.”

“Huh, Elvis Strasberg. Who knew?”

Ina thought of Elvis out rolling around in the dirt and tried not to giggle. This got harder and harder as she looked into Jerry’s eyes, which were also twinkling with amusement.

In a moment of vulnerability Ina decided to let down her guard and step closer, trailing her fingers over Jerry’s upper arm. His muscle flinched slightly under her hand and it made her feel a little flight of butterflies in her tummy.

“Too bad,” she murmured in what she hoped was a sexy, flirtatious voice. “I was beginning to hope maybe you’d have to step in for him today.”

Jerry’s eyes widened for a split second, as he ran his hand through his hair. “Uh, well, as far as I know his scenes today aren’t dangerous at all.”

“That’s what you think.” Ina smiled, walking backwards for a few steps to enjoy the slight blush coloring Jerry’s scruffy cheeks.

She couldn’t be sure, but she felt there was a spark between them, and it made her feel young and giddy. Fifteen years of having her body and self worth surveyed and scrutinized and picked apart had left Ina unsure of her seduction abilities. First it had been photographers and advertising executives, then producers and directors had joined the throng out to shatter her confidence. For some women, the brutality of the business helped them create a calloused, impenetrable outer shell and distorted sense of self worth. For Ina, it had done the opposite, and she frowned as she felt the familiar knot of insecurity tighten in her stomach and vowed not let her self doubt stop her from having fun this time. No, before the end of this shoot she’d get Jerry alone and find out if he was as quiet and soft spoken in bed as he was on set.

Twenty minutes later, Ina was still smiling to herself when she slunk into a chair in make-up and pulled her thick, terry cotton robe tighter around her body.

“Look at you,” Bertie gushed as she toyed with Ina’s long, brown hair. “Excited for the scenes today?”

Ina paused and looked at herself in the mirror, letting out a nervous sigh.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

She awkwardly smiled up at Bertie, and told herself to relax even as her shoulders inadvertently rolled upward and she tugged at the hem of her robe.

“You know five, even three years ago, you would kiss, passionately, then the camera would pan to the bedside table and come back into focus with you smoking. But now, Blow Up, Bonnie & Clyde, the new rating system. It’s a whole new ball game out there. I’m not sure - “

“Oh, you’re gonna be fine.”

Ina looked down and studied the top of her cleavage, she felt strangely ambivalent about the nudity and the sex scenes they were shooting. She was proud that they wanted her to do them, it bolstered her self esteem and made her feel longed for and desired, special. But she couldn’t shake that nagging feeling deep down that she would get on set, bare it all and then have the director and DP exchange hushed whispers before pulling her off and recasting her role. She met her own gaze again in the mirror and tried to squelch her self doubt.

“I know, I know, and it’s all very tasteful. I trust Chuck. Still, I’m the one wearing a see-through robe. All Elvis has to do is take off his cowboy hat before he carries me to the bed. He might be shirtless in the second scene, but for the most part all we’ll see is a little bit of his ear.”

Bertie nodded into big rounds of hair she was smoothing over with oil and pinning into place with bobby pins lodged at the side of her mouth.

“Yeah, well, with most guys I’d be fine just seeing the ear, cuz women’s bodies are just more beautiful. But with Elvis, I kinda wished they’d have him nude too, you know?” She clicked her tongue and winked at Ina in the mirror,

“You should get Betty Friedan on that, it would really be a movement for sex equality. Though I bet he’d give you a private show if you asked him, Bertie. He’s making his way through the crew, two at a time I hear.”

Bertie wiggled her eyebrows into the mirror.

“Yeah, I heard about that, two of the pretty Mexican extras, right? They can have him, I just want to look at him. I don’t think I’d survive if he touched me.” She flipped her long red hair over her shoulder and bit her lip. “I don’t know how you are going to make love to him all day.”

“Oh, well, when it’s work, you sort of detach yourself. I mean, yes, Elvis is very handsome, but he doesn’t really send me, you know? You should have seen him last night with his guys. Like a pack of wild animals.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I think Jerry is the only one who has ever opened a book, or doesn’t eat with his hands.”

Ina tried not to move as she watched Bertha pin another round hair piece in place.

“The stunt double? He sure has that silent type thing going for him.” Bertie squinted her eyes at Ina as she stuck a few more pins in. “Ahhhh, let me guess, that’s the type you go for. Over Elvis. Are you telling me that you wouldn’t, you know, play patty cake with Elvis if he made the move? I thought he always dated his leading lady, maybe those extras are just the appetizer before the main dish..”

Ina sat up, admiring the tower of rolled hair Bertie had constructed on top of her head. Satisfied, she leveled Bertie with a friendly but stern look.

“Things can get sticky when you bed your co-star. And giving in just encourages them. You shoulda seen Jerry Lewis trailing me around off set like a creep. like I owed it to him.”

Ina grimaced, remembering Lewis’ sweaty brow as he had pushed her against the wall of her dressing room and promised that she’d like it, that she didn’t know what she was missing. She shuddered, thinking of him and all the others: the photographers who’d grinded into her as they straddled over her during a photo shoot. The producers who had invited her to an audition and then cornered her alone. She felt sick to her stomach and reached out for the random half drunk bottle of Coke on the vanity in front of her to wash away the bad taste in her mouth.

“You ok, Miss Balin?”

“Please Bertie, call me Ina. After that party last night I think we’re all on a first name basis.”

“Ha, yeah, I guess.” She turned Ina around to finish her make up. “You know, I think you might be the only woman here who doesn’t want to sleep with Elvis.”

“Thank god Elvis seems to be somewhat of a gentleman, because I’m not looking to be another notch on his belt, I’ve worked too hard to stay in this business without a casting couch reputation, and I plan to keep it that way. Plus, with all the bed hopping that happens on location, and then having to run scenes together if things get, you know, weird. Better to keep things professional between us.”

“On the other hand, a lonely stunt man...”

Ina winked, she could feel the giddy excitement bubble up just thinking of Jerry. She tried to stifle it and stay aloof as she spoke.

“A month is a long time, even a lonely stuntman deserves some company.”

A cough interrupted their giggles and the women turned to see Elvis leaning against the doorway, one hand on his belt. He squinted his eyes, looking at them with exaggerated suspicion as he wiped his hand over his forehead leaving a dark streak of dirt above his brow.

“Uh huh, and just what’d I stumble into here, huh? You two look like you are up ta no good, boy, I tell ya what.”

Perfectly lined smoky eyes sat below Elvis’ dirty forehead and more dirt billowed off his trousers as he strode toward the two women, his hands hanging off the top of his corduroy trousers. Bertie shot Ina a cautious glance in the mirror that warned her not to laugh, even as the sides of her lips seemed to hold back a chuckle.

“I’ve seen that look before Iny Niny.” Elvis said. “Right about the moment ya took aim and fired at poor Charlie Hodge, square the eyes.”

“I really didn’t mean to hurt him! Really.” Something about Elvis’ easy charm made it impossible not to smile broadly. “I - we - we’re not up to anything, you. Just chit chat. I was saying how I almost didn’t recognize you when I got here yesterday. On account of that beard you got, Presley.”

“I almost don’t recognize myself, honey.” He paused and looked in the mirror, taking a step closer as he rubbed the dirt into his forehead more. “That’s probably a good thing, maybe this picture actually has a chance to be something.”

Ina sat up as Bertie dusted her with a last round of hair spray and swiveled her chair around to face him.

“Oh, now don’t say that, there’s a reason you’re the star here. I love your movies.”

Ina may not have actually seen them all, but she knew of Elvis’ desire to be in more serious dramas. It was a common topic of conversation in Hollywood when his name came up. Ok, well, one of the common topics. Maybe not as common as his reputation for fucking his costars, she mused to herself, but still, as someone who had even less clout to be picky about projects, she sympathized with that ever present double bind of needing the money, not wanting to be seen as difficult, and yet, also yearning for more creative fulfillment.

Their eyes met and he nodded to himself, pursing his lips, as if he were reading her mind,

“Huh, so you're the one.” He grinned and took his cowboy hat off, running his hand through his hair as he tried to fill the awkward silence. “Well, sorry but I can’t issue you a refund, Iner Niner. All I can promise is that this ‘un will be better than some of the stinkers, I reckon.”

Ina smiled big, thinking of the desert sunrise this morning, all the good omens. “I don’t know if I would ever describe an Elvis film as a stinker. But I do have a good feeling about this film.”

Elvis scratched his beard, a naughty blush lighting up his cheeks as he took in the very sheer negligee peeking out from under her white terry cloth robe.

“Huh, feeling better and better the more I look- I mean listen to you, INy”

Ina felt a chill up her spine as she looked into Elvis’ dancing eyes, lingering on his face with newfound appreciation. There was something about the way the stubbly beard he had grown out for this role accentuated his jawline and made him seem more rugged, more handsome than he had looked when he played the polished romantic lead in his previous films. She felt a flutter of something unfamiliar stir in her belly; she had never been gaga over Elvis before.

And you are not now, she told herself, it’s just the characters and the scenes you know you are shooting today. Besides, he flirts with everyone, why he’d been flirting with you and every woman in the bar last night even when he had one or two extras on his lap.

Elvis arched his eyebrow, and Ina pulled her robe closer with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, I think you’re gonna be seeing a lot more of me today.” She chuckled. “I was just telling Bertie I remembered when all I had to do to film a sex scene was lead a cowboy into my wigwam, and let the camera cut to smoke coming out of the top. We left the rest to the audience’s imagination.”

“Yeah, I think I remember that one.” Elvis whistled as he plopped into the make-up chair next to her. “Well, don’t worry, we’re only gotta pretend to make love with an audience of a hundred or so crew members watching, so no pressure.”

They laughed nervously, and then one of the production assistants peered around the door and called to Ina that the DP was ready to work out the lighting for her fully nude bath scene. She stood and gave Elvis a friendly pat, smiling inwardly as she looked over her shoulder to see Bertie trying to wipe the dirt off his forehead.

“See you out there in the ring, Presley.”

“Ok,” he smiled.

Ina studied him for another beat, wondering if the way his beard framed his lips made them look even bigger and more luscious, but she couldn’t be sure.

Striding from the building with wardrobe and dressings back to the soundstage, Ina considered how Elvis had managed to meet and completely defy her expectations. She had never seen him at awards shows, premieres or parties, nor ran into him around town or at the studio canteens. Indeed,he had a reputation for keeping to himself in Hollywood. All she knew was the second hand information she got from people who had worked with him and the Hollywood rumor mill. There were so many contradictory descriptions of him that no, she had not known what to expect when she arrived in Arizona and discovered an Elvis she barely recognized under the scruffy beard he’d grown.

When Chuck, the director, had brought her over to introduce them, he had been shy and sweet, sheepishly sticking out his hand with an affected deep “Hullo, I’m Elvis Presley.” But then by the end of the rehearsals yesterday they had become more comfortable with each other. Something about kissing Elvis inbetween jokes she knew he was making to make her feel at ease had broken the ice between them. And he had started in with the nicknames almost immediately, helping to bring her into the camaraderie that had been established with the crew before her arrival.

The run through yesterday had gone well, all jokes aside, and he had shown himself to be respectful and kind, never pushing or trying anything when they were in each other's arms. It’s probably good that he’s sleeping with some of the extras, Ina thought to herself. That way there would be no pent up sexual expectations and she could just focus on being a professional and perhaps even friends with Elvis.

Yes, she could be friends with him. Ina had only been in Apacheland for a little over 24 hours, but she could tell from Elvis’ warmth that they had established a solid rapport and chemistry for their roles. She felt as safe as she could with him as she readied herself for her first nude role on film.

“Today is going to be a good day,” Ina repeated to herself as she opened the door and entered the sound stage.

Ina was walking along the corridor behind the set when she heard Jerry’s voice on the other side of the plywood and hurried to catch him and flirt a little more. But then he said her name and she stopped, listening, as she realized he was speaking with one of Elvis’ other friends. It sounded like Charlie.

“I saw y’all. Why, she had her hands all over you, ya big stud. You really ain’t gonna try to bury the hatchet in that briar patch?”

“Oh, you know how Crazy can be. All I did was apologize to Alma and Flor for blocking the doorway last night and he ‘bout split in two. I ain’t about to try no funny business with his leading lady.”

“But you heard him call her Groucho, said he could barely stand to kiss her with that mustache above her lip. Said she was so manly, you could almost mistake her for one a the cowboy extras in drag. Like a goddamn drag queen who forgot to shave, is what he said.”

Ina felt the blood drain from her face and she began to tremble, tracing her fingers above her smooth upper lip, the one she diligently waxed every two weeks. They might as well have punched her in the gut with a steel two by four. She could almost taste something metallic at the back of her throat, where a lump formed.Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and it took all her willpower to push them back as she stood there paralyzed while Jerry and Charlie chatted away.

“Aw, well he was off his rocker, she isn’t nearly as bad as that dog from continuity he had in his room at NBC, you know, with the big knockers?”

“Nah, I think In-ahhs pretty cute myself. If she’d been pawing my chest I’d be on that like white on rice, man.”

“Heard you like drag queens, Hodges.”

“Aw naw man, see, now that ain’t fair. Sides, that’s Lamar.”

The busy sound of the crew talking and moving around the sound stage echoed up into the lights with Charlie and Jerry’s laughter, but Ina could hardly hear anything except the pounding of her heart through her whole body. Air. She needed air. Ina hurried out a side door, her mind was racing and there was no way she could stomach the idea of filming a sex scene with Elvis now. Jerry and Charlie’s words had fractured the fragile veneer of confidence she had spent the last month building up. Dieting, ballet classes, early nights, slathering her face in cold cream and plunging it in ice first thing in the morning, staying away from alcohol and ice cream. She had worked so hard to get to a place where she had been able to look in the mirror and tell herself she could do this. Now all her self doubt had returned tenfold.

Facing the desert, she lit a cigarette and muttered under her breath, her voice cracking as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Oh god oh god, why did I take this role? Why do I embarrass myself again and again?”

Ina pressed her hand to her throat as she sucked in deeply, willing the nicotine to steady her shaking body. She longed to run off, get in her car, and maybe drive to that bar down the road Bertie had told her about, the one where all the baseball players went.

The very idea of male attention was like a salve, and it helped her slow her breath as she slumped against the warm, concrete wall of the sound stage and looked out at the desert, focusing on the hills in the distance.

It was like looking out at a completely different view than she had faced that morning. The land was now desolate and unforgiving in the July heat, and the jagged peaks of Superstition mountain loomed like a giant, dark fiery sentinel in the sky. Her chest rose and fell with each inhale and exhale of smoke, her fingers trembled as she tried to quell the turmoil churning inside her.

Just when she was sure she couldn’t walk back inside, she smelled a hint of sage in the dust, it filled her nostrils with renewed energy. The wind whispered in her ear that she was stronger than she knew, she had trudged harder paths than this. She could put one foot in front of the other.

The door next to her exploded open and there was the fresh face of the young, blonde PA who had called to her in wardrobe.

“Oh, there you are Miss Balin, we’re ready for you.”

Ina sucked in another drag of her cigarette and took a deep breath. She could do this. Elvis and his entourage were a bunch of childish idiots. Fuck them.

True to his promise, the director, Chuck, kept the set closed for the nude bath scene Ina was shooting first. It was just him, the cinematographer, his assistant, the boom operator, and three female PAs. One to hold the clap board and two to help Ina in and out of the tub. The scene was blocked so the camera only captured her naked from behind with the side of her breast visible as she donned a sheer blue robe lined with black lace. They would run it from the top, then Chuck would run over and tell her how stunning she was and ask for another take as she shivered. It took eleven takes in all before he and the DP were content they had the footage they needed.

Ina reclined in her chair, trying to warm up during the short break before the next scene. She was rehearsing the dialogue as people trickled in to shoot her first love scene with Elvis, and she suddenly became paranoid that other crew members had heard Jerry and Charlie’s story about Elvis’ calling her a drag queen. She sat up and looked around. Suddenly every hushed whisper was about her, every glance her way was filled with pity. She gripped the side of her chair and told herself to get it to-fucking-gether.

The next scene was meant to occur directly after the bath, when her character, Tracy, discovers Elvis’ character, Jess, rummaging around in her bedroom looking for his gun. They would argue, then kiss, then argue more before he carried her to the bed. After that, he would remove her robe and begin to kiss her neck, stop and then put his hat on the bedpost, before the camera moved in for an extreme close up of her face as they made love.

Then they would break the set and set up for the second sex scene that was meant to take place at the end of the film when Jess has been victorious against the band of outlaws and takes her to Mexico with him to start a new life across the border.

Ina squeezed her hand, using her thumb as a metronome as she said her lines. “I must look new to you - toooo you - I MUST look NEW to YOU now.” She had these little games she had learned in acting class to vary the rhythm and emphasis over and over until she was comfortable in the dialogue, in the character, and it rolled off her tongue naturally, without having to think about it.

Elvis' voice rang out high above the buzz of the crew and all the words she had ever known fell out of her head. She felt her sphincter clench up tightly instinctively as if on cue at the sound of his chuckle, and a frown formed on her lips. The air was suddenly ripe with the smell of sweaty bodies and stale coffee and cigarette smoke.

Looking over her shoulder, just the sight of him surrounded by his flunkies made Ina’s stomach sour. A spark of defiance bloomed in her belly at his smug face and she longed now to walk up to Elvis and slap him sharply across the face before telling him off for being such a rotten two-faced charming bastard. But instead she popped another black beauty to fight off the hunger she had sensed growing in her belly and steeled herself to give the performance of a lifetime.

Elvis passed by her chair as she stood, a crooked grin pushing the apples of his cheeks up above his beard.

“Well, might as well get it over with.”

His despondency made Ina bristle. She was completely incapable of stopping the prickly voice that sprang out from her throat.

“We don’t have to shoot these love scenes.”

Elvis paused in his stride toward the set and looked back at Ina, his brow furrowed for a moment before he grinned again, bigger and wider.

“Huh? Course I want to shoot ‘em, love scenes are my specialty.”

Ina narrowed her eyes at his stupid, smirking expression as he glanced around at his friends as they whistled and chimed in with a chorus of stupid affirmations.

“Uh huh.”

“That’s right.“

“On and off the set”

“Well, you seem anxious to, what was it, get this over with?” She said cooly, leveling him with a glare. “So then it must be me. Maybe we could just cut them from the film altogether. CHUUCK?”

Elvis’ face began to scrunch up in a frown as Ina’s voice rang out like a knife, cutting through the chaos of a live shoot. The sound stage had been buzzing with activity as the crew readied the set, but now everyone had stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at the two leads.

Elvis’ eyes zoned in on Ina and his face clouded with concern as his hands tightened against his body in clenched fists.

“Now see here - “ then he paused and took a deep breath, smiling big.

That broad, smooth, movie star beam.

“Aw, now I think we got are wires crossed someplace.That’s jus my ole stage fright talkin’, honey. Gets me ev’ry time like a sonabitch. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, Iny Tiny, come get over here. I feel very honored to work with you. I been sayin’ all week, haven’t I, Chuck? That I couldn’t wait for Ina to get here, class up this joint’?”

Ina looked at where Chuck stood, hands at his hips as he nodded, a terrified grin plastered on his face.

“That’s right, that’s right. Why, that's what we’ve all been saying, Ina, we couldn’t wait for our Tracy to get here.”

Chuck dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped it over his big, balding head as he spoke slowly, as if talking to a spooked horse. Ina

“I think I know what’s going on, my dear.”

Chuck looked over at Elvis and then put his arm around Ina, guiding her toward her mark.

“You’re nervous. We’ve just spent two hours during the bath scene. And this sort of - um - delicate, shall we say, yes, delicate feminine performance is new to you, isn't it?”

“Well, yes, I suppose, but I - “

Chuck put his finger to Ina’s mouth

“Say no more, my dear. It’s natural to feel vulnerable in this situation. But let me assure you, everything is being shot in the most artistic technique possible. And you, well, just look at you, huh?” He spun her around in the center of the set.

“Ina, you are a dream. My living, breathing Renoir painting. And I want you to know, that was my inspiration for your room here. The colors, the outfits, a Parisian chorus line meets the Old West. The colors, the costumes, they are meant to evoke the Belle Epoch, you know? You are wearing the same outfits Degas’ dancers wore, did you know that?”

“Uh huh, you mean if they wore anything?” Ina added in a clipped tone.

“See, and that’s exactly it! The original work of art is, of course, the beauty of the female form.”

“Cain’t argue with that.” Elvis smirked, but Ina shot him a withering look which threw him off again and once more he was frowning and searching her face.

Chuck noticed none of this and kept talking.

“And you are an exemplary example of the female form, a perfect specimen of a woman.”

“Well, I assure you I am no drag queen.”

Elvis coughed nervously, his hands clenched in fists at his side. The quick, sharp look he shot Joe did not escape Ina’s notice and she knew then that he had said the things Jerry and Charlie had been laughing about. She narrowed her glare at him, telegraphing her contempt as he stuttered and tried to regain control of the conversation.

“No - ah-uh -er - siree, honey, you’re the real deal, got more class than the rest of this outfit combined. Why, I reckon I’m more nervous ‘bout this scene than you are.”

Chuck nodded vigorously.

“Yes, we are all nervous shooting something that is, as I said, delicate like this. And your character is unsure in this scene, she loves Jess, but is torn, because she’s worried he is still the bandit she sent away. Channel your feelings into the scene and let’s make beautiful artwork here today.”

Ina rolled her eyes. “Ok, ok, I’m ok. Like he said, let’s just get it over with already.”

Elvis grinned as he walked around the set door to his mark.

“That’s the spirit, Iny Beany.”

Chuck yelled action, directing them through the scene as the cameras rolled.

“You see him rooting through your stuff, and you think of how long it's been, how he left you without a word. You hate him because you love him, but you wish you didn’t and you are trying to keep it all bottled up. Beautiful. Indifferent. That’s it Ina, that cool, icy glare, it’s perfect.”

It was not hard for Ina to muster a cool, icy glare for Elvis as he looked down at her. Every time they started, one of the PAs would come over and spray her body and chest with water for continuity with the bath scene that was just supposed to have occurred in the storyline.

In the third run through, she couldn’t help herself when Elvis’ foot knocked into hers. She thought of that guilty grimace she saw move across his face at the words “drag queen” and she stepped on his foot. Hard.

“Perfect! Perfect Ina, you’re nailing it!” Chuck called out from where he was watching the monitor.

“Nailing me is more like it,” Elvis said, jumping back, a hurt pout on his face. Then he reached out and stroked the side of her shoulder.

“Say, you sure you ok? You’re not sore at me for something, are you? It’d be better if we just clear the air. If I said something this morning, or did something in passing, honey, I’m sorry. But you gotta tell me.”

Ina looked in his big blue eyes, searching hers, seeking a connection. She glanced off behind him, at the brocade pink wall paper. The air smelled of bath water, sweat and cheap aftershave. Chuck was right, she thought, this could be a cheap Parisian brothel.

“I assure you, I am fine.” Ina forced her mouth into a tight smile. “Just watch where you’re going and we’ll be fine.”

He squinted his eyes at her, but seemed to decide against whatever it was he originally wanted to say, and stepped back with his arms up in surrender. “Okay. Alright. Whatever you say, Iny, my mistake. Let’s try again, I bet we’ll get it right somehow.”

They went through the whole scene three times, up until the part where Jess lifts Tracy up and carries her to the bed. Elvis’ eyes narrowed as he stepped toward her, uttering his lines in a stern, serious voice. But when he picked her up and hoisted her in the air, she heard Charlie’s obnoxious laughter in the background and their words from earlier began to play through her head again on a loop.

The shrill sound of his laugh sent a sharp bolt of pain down the center of her head and suddenly she felt as if ginger ale was bubbling up on to the top of her brain. She wasn’t sure if she could hold it together anymore.

There was the taste of bile again at the back of her throat. She swallowed, running through all of the tools she had learned in the Actor’s Studio such as telling herself she was Tracy and trying to channel her anger into the tension between Tracy and Jess. She was, after all, supposed to be fighting Jess’ advances at first and pushing him off before giving in. But she could barely look at Elvis and instinctively jerked back when he placed her on the bed and began to move his fingers over her sternum.

Her head throbbed and she could feel more tears welling up. She had to get out of there and take a little break, so she cried out, “CUT!”

Elvis jumped back, a panicked look on his face.

“Did I hurt you, Iny Beany? Wanna do it again, just to practice, from the mark by the bed?”

“No.,” she hissed under her breath, pushing him away. Maybe she didn’t need a break, maybe they could just skip this scene altogether.

“No, no no. I’m sorry, I just can’t do it. Chuck, do we really need a full love scene? We’re not making Belle du Jour here.”

Elvis had his hands on his hips, a stricken look on his face while Ina stood, straightening what was left of her dignity and snapping her fingers for the PAs to bring her thicker robe.

“Ina, darling, we just went through this.” Chuck’s transatlantic accent was getting thicker and higher-pitched the more he spoke. “And I hate to bring this up, you know I do, my dear, but it's in your contract.”

“Contract or not, I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

“My dear, what can I do to make you comfortable?” Chuck pleaded.

“Nothing. I would rather make love to a rattlesnake than to that man.”

Elvis stood taller, his fingers balled up into fists as his leveled, polished voice began to transform into a Southern snarl.

“Yeah, uh huh, well I had about enough of this bull shit. Rattlesnake, huh? That can be arranged, honey, why, I’ll get it myself.”

“Well, I bet it will be small and limp, just like you.”

He staggered back when she hurled those words at him, flustered and mumbling as he looked around the set to see who had been in earshot and heard her yell out the words ‘small and limp’ at him. The answer, of course, was everybody. Because everybody in the crew was watching.

They had, of course, originally gathered around because Charro! was making film history with today’s shoot.

All the popular European films being released had sex scenes, James Bond was having sex. Several recent westerns had initially included nude scenes, but studios had cut them at the last minute.

But 1968 marked the dawning of a new era. The MPAA had a new rating system. Bonnie & Clyde had proven last year that audiences not only had a stomach for violence, but wanted sex. And like Bonnie, they wanted it much more than they got it. And so this picture, and about a dozen others in production, were all racing to give it to them.

Even if the plan was to pan to a hat and then just Ina’s face, Charro! was going to make history.

Or rather, it would have made history. Instead, the entire crew watched in horror as Ina threw up her hands and stomped off in protest while Elvis coughed loudly, took a deep breath, and then announced to the crowd

“Don’t worry, folks, we’re gonna get Arthur Rankin in here and he’s gonna recreate these scenes with claymation. Make a little Elvis the Rednosed Cowboy.” His voice rang out with forced cheerfulness, followed by a ripple of nervous laughter that spread through the soundstage.

“Boy, I tell ya what, now that would be a historical milestone, huh Chuck? Bet audiences would pay double ta see a stop motion love scene.”

The director nodded as Elvis patted him on the shoulder with a forced, playful candor and then strode out of the studio followed by his entourage.

Elvis’ motel room was dark, save for the television, an ever present companion, and the table lamp that cast shadows against the wall outlining Alma’s silhouette. The light captured every curve of her body as it lay sideways across the bed next to him. His fingers tapped absentmindedly over her bronze thigh, but his mind was otherwise occupied and failed to register the coquettish look she was giving him as she pouted and ran her hand over his arm.

He was thinking of his first film and the time had asked his co-star, Richard Egan, the secret to good acting.

“You. You already got it kid, in spades. Why do you think they renamed this picture after your song? Just be you, unaffected, unadulterated. You’re a natural.”

But what good had natural ability been without opportunity? He’d had such high hopes back then, hopes to be in real movies about real people, stories with an edge that packed a punch. And for a time, it seemed like he was. Dramas in which the singing was a plausible part of the premise.

But somewhere along the way the edge had been sanded off and his plans had all gone wrong. He’d gotten himself typecast as the type of character he hated, a romantic lead who broke into song during an appointment with the IRS. Those roles were fine for Rock Hudson, but not for him. He knew he could do better. Better than dumb musicals, better than all this.

He had those same high hopes for this picture when he first read the script.

“Guess I should be happy this western’s actually being filmed in the goddamn desert and not in some California shrub valley,” he mumbled, balling his hands into fists as he spoke.

“What was that, baby?”

Elvis looked up at the woman lying next to him, he had forgotten she was even there. Her warm body next to him had become just another amenity of the room, like the mini fridge or the Gideons Bible. The puzzled look on her young, naive face reminded him how truly alone he was.

Oblivious to Elvis' existential crisis, Alma decided maybe he needed some prompting after their kisses had dissolved into still silence. She moved her hand to Elvis’ thigh, stopping when he flinched and jumped up almost as if he were trying to escape her touch. She frowned, then flipped her hair as she adjusted and lay prone over the polyester orange bedspread, fashioning a come hither look on her face. She could tell he was rattled by the onset fight and was trying everything in her bag of tricks to laugh it off and redirect him to something better. Her.

“Ha, small and limp. That bitch has no idea what she’s missing. It took all my self control not to cry out in front of everyone that you have an anaconda in your pants, Elvis.”

A grimace passed over his face, and Elvis started to button up his shirt and mumble to the floor.

“Don’t, baby - just-” He softened his voice at the rejection he saw in her eyes. “Honey, I can’t stand it when women do that.”

“What, what am I doing wrong?” Alma sat, her face falling as she scooted back against the pillows.

Elvis pulled on the red bandana around his neck and paced the other way, looking back at her as he tucked his shirt back into his clean, brown corduroy pants. His shoulders stiffened.

“Insincerity. I can’t, I jus hate it when women go overboard trying to puff up my ego. I’ve had my share of lovers, no one ever complained. That’s not the point.”

“It isn’t?”

“Nah, honey. What that bitch is really saying is she don’t take me serious, I’m not man enough for this fucking role, for her New York high society standards. Fat lot of good any a that did her, thinks I don’t know she’s been in what, five pictures? Jerry Lewis? Try twenty five, sister. Give me a goddamn break. She’s wound so tight, she could start a fight in an empty house, I tell ya what, boy, and that’s the god honest truth.”

He began to pace the room, wringing his hands over as he walked.

“This un’ is gonna be different, Chuck said, more raw, Chuck said, more real.” His voice trilled between a high falsetto and a deep growl. “Then first they cut the violence, and now this bullshit. What’s next? Bet they gonna try and have me sing to my fuckin horse!”

He punched the wall. “Fucking cowboys don’t fucking sing!” He screamed to the ceiling, then began to pace again, his hands now balled up in fists.

He turned and looked at Alma. “You ever see John Wayne sing? Gary Cooper? ‘Fore they walked over to the OK corral to shoot the bad guy?”

He punched the wall again and then turned and tried to compose himself when he saw Alma flinch.

“Ok ok ok ok.” He took a deep breath. “I - uh - this picture’s got me all keyed up.”

“Want some grass? Flor has some killer grass, make you forget today even happened.”

“Nah, honey - now, good lil girls like you should know better than to mess with that stuff.”

Alma pulled her hand through her hair and struck what she thought was a glamorous, come hither pose.

“Want me to give you a blow job? Help you relax?”

Elvis frowned. “Man, like a goddamn cat in heat and twice as willing. Don’t you think of nothing else?”

Alma sat up and started to put her clothes on, her voice as low as her hopes for the evening.

“You’re the one who invited me up here and had me undress while you watched. I’m just trying to do what I thought you wanted.”

“Well stop tryin’ to think, you’ll wear yourself out.”

Alma grabbed her shoes and opened the door, finding Joe on the other side with one hand about to knock and another holding up a tray of food in his hands.

“Oh, hey -”

“Hey yourself.” Alma said with a huff and a very aggressive hair flip, her long brown tresses smacking Joe’s cheek.

Elvis shrugged as Joe looked after Alma, whistling to himself.

“Man o man, EP, you got the prettiest girl here. What’s up her butt?”

“I don’t know - Something up with the chicks on this picture, man, stuck up and crazier than a sack full a possums.”

Elvis looked at himself in the mirror hanging on the wall across from the bed as Joe mumbled about how many crazy women they had met on their journeys, half-listening as he stroked his beard and reassured himself that he looked just as fit as Clint Eastwood. And more handsome. He winked at himself and straightened his belt buckle, then looked over at Joe.

“Now hold on a second, son, jus’ what in high heaven is that?”

Elvis lifted his hands from his left hip and pointed at the cheeseburgers and fries Joe had laid out on the table, fixing him with a dark glare.

“You said dinner, EP, brought you dinner.”

“Tryin’ to get me back in the 200 club like you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you been auditioning for the part of lardass of the group.”

“But last night - I thought you -

“I thought, I thought - you ain’t thought shit, and that’s the problem. I’m supposed to be shirtless on film tomorrow and you fixin’ to get me fat as a boarding house cat.”

Joe frowned, furrowing his brow for the split second it took him to plaster a smile back on and nod. Now he understood what was up Alma’s ass, and what was about to be up his too if he didn’t turn this around.

“Right, boss, my mistake, tell me what you want and I’ll go get it.”

“What I want, what I want. Ain’t nobody cares what I want, and that’s the goddamn problem. Save a whole lotta time and money if you just thought to ask first.”

Elvis put his hands on his waist and cried out an inaudible growl to the ceiling.

“Jus… just bring me a caesar salad. A big one.”

Joe hurried out and Elvis went over to cover up the burgers, but the smell was too tempting, so instead he sat down and began to devour them one after another, mumbling to himself in between bites.

“Goddamit, if I look fat tomorrow it’ll be Joe’s goddamn fuckin’ fault.”

There was a knock at the door, and he yelled for whoever it was to come in as he went to wash up.

“Joe told me to come get rid of the - uh - food tray.”

Charlie’s voice trailed off as Elvis emerged from the bathroom and followed Charlie’s eyes to the table and the plates that were empty, save for a handful of cold fries.

“Well, have at it - wait.”

Elvis stepped back and looked around, grabbing one of the guns from the night stand and put it in his belt. He had all this nervous energy running up and down his body, he needed to just get out of this room, out of this motel, get as far as possible to just breathe some fresh air and think. He snapped his fingers at Charlie.

“Grab Gee Gee, we’re going for a drive.”

Charlie’s face softened into a big goofy, excited grin. “Okee dokee artichokee, where we heading?”

“Anywhere that ain’t this goddamn motel, numb nuts.” Elvis started to head down the exterior stairs, running his hand over the warm, wrought iron bannister. He looked back over his shoulder and clapped.

“Bring the cigars, too, then meet me at the car. Chop chop.”

A renewed sense of purpose guided his steps as Elvis walked down the corridor of motel rooms that lined the pool,and he ran his hands up and down the front of his shirt. He mulled over what he wanted to do that didn’t involve eating more hamburgers. Or eating anything.

When he looked up, he realized he had stopped outside Ina’s room. There, through the curtain, he could see the back of her through the curtain where she sat on her bed, talking to someone on the phone.

“No no no, Mickey, of course I understand. Yes, well, I don’t know, I think you have to have been on top to get back on top, but your meaning is not lost on me. I get it. Yes. Opportunity of a lifetime. I know. Elvis Elvis. Don’t worry. I’m gonna go make it right, right now.”

She looked up at the ceiling and wiped the sides of her eyes, summoning a mask of quiet cheer Elvis recognized well as she clutched the phone tight.

“Yes, no - I’ll be a good girl, Mickey. I promise. I know, I know, no bread.”

He was transfixed, enjoying the power he felt watching her unaware, and pressed closer to the glass, careful not to draw attention to himself. A small front section of her long, flowing hair fell out from behind her ears and she absentmindedly began to twist it nervously. She looked like a fragile little girl, like a beautiful flower someone had stepped on. The sight of her anxiously talking away pulled on his heart strings.

He shook his head. What the fuck had happened? Why was she so angry at him? He'd played the part of the funny, affable host from the minute they met, introducing her to the crew and having Gee Gee get her screwdrivers as they all yukked it up in the bar. He'd about busted his gut when she lobbed a handful of ice at Charlie and knocked him over the back of the couch.

He stood there watching as her big brown eyes lit up while she told her agent how nice the desert was. He almost believed her. Goddamit, why couldn’t she just be a good girl and get along? She’d been sweet and flirty in make-up and then what, an hour or two later, her claws were out and she’d aimed them at him.

He whistled and thought about the fickleness of women as he turned to walk the long way around the pool.

Thirty seconds later he heard the thud of a door opening followed by Ina’s voice calling out for him.

Elvis stopped, his hands moved out as if to balance himself as he swiveled around, slowly, to face her. A sense of dread settling in his stomach. Up above him, he saw Charlie and Gee Gee making their way down the staircase, while to his left a group of crew members were heading for the pool. The smell of chlorine wafted through the open air hallway.

He cautiously trudged back toward the doorway to where Ina stood, each footfall a slow thump of his cowboy boot against the hard concrete sidewalk.

“Oh good, I’m glad I caught you, Elvis.” She swallowed, there it was again, that cheerful mask settling over her face as she exhaled a nervous laugh. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

Elvis straightened up, looking around again before pulling on the red bandana at his throat. He definitely didn’t want to be alone with Ina. She was unpredictable and he couldn’t stand the awkward energy that flickered between them. However, he also didn’t want another public scene and he could already hear their names being whispered by some of the crew at the pool.

So he did what he always did with an audience, he mustered a wide, beaming smile and spoke in a nonchalant, cool voice:

“Hey honey, you ain’t gotta worry bout me, I’m all good. You get your beauty sleep and I’ll see you tamarra onset an - “

Ina’s lip trembled, she looked like she might fall apart at any moment.

Shit he thought, unable to stop himself from walking over to her and stroking her shoulder.

“There there, been a rough day. This desert heat, I tell ya what, baby, does things to ya head. Now go ahead and listen to ol’ Elvis -”

Ina put her hand over his where it squeezed her shoulder.

“Could we just talk - just for a moment?” Her eyes pleaded with him. “Alone. I - I won’t take much time, I just - I’d like to apologize and clear the air if you’ll let me. Otherwise, otherwise I won’t be able to sleep and then you’ll be making love to a haggard old zombie first thing in the morning.”

Elvis' eyes softened and he looked around once more before nodding. “Ok.”

As soon as the door closed he was an obedient puppy letting her lead him by the hand to sit on the bed, where he took off his cowboy hat and toyed with it in his lap.

Ina stepped away, backing toward the dresser where she lifted herself to sit next to the TV, but then changed her mind. She felt like a ship adrift, unmoored and out of her comfort zone. Sitting and swinging her legs about was too casual, she decided, so she stood back up and swept the hair that had fallen out of her high ponytail behind her ears.

Just make it short, sweet, earnest, she reminded herself, you’re no stranger to eating humble pie. Indeed, Ina reflected on the number of times she had apologized unnecessarily just to smooth things over with her mother or sister, a producer, an ad executive. This was one of the first times she felt she actually had behaved badly and now she was lost for words. If only there was a script for life.

“I - um - thanks for seeing me - I - I - I.”

All the words left her head when she found Elvis’ dark blue eyes studying her beneath his long lashes. He was rotating his cowboy hat in his lap. The smell of the heavy floral cleaning products the maids had used lingered in the air, stronger now that the air conditioner cycled on with a heaving, mechanic whomp. She swallowed again, and counted to ten, trying to ignore the way the back of her neck seemed to prickle as a chill went down her spine. She steadied herself, forcing her eyes to connect with his.

“Elvis, I am so very sorry. I mean it. I - I - I - ’ve never lost it before onset, it is so unprofessional I can barely stand to look at myself.”

She felt a release of tension as she watched his hands relax. He took a deep breath and stroked his beard.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Ina, I been making two to three pictures a year since 1933. I can roll with the punches, ain’t nothing I can’t handle. ThoughI gotta admit you threw me off back there.”

The register of his voice changed from rougher to softer as he looked down at the floor and then back up at Ina’s face.

“Be honest, did I do anything to offend you or make you mad at me?”

His softer side was almost harder to withstand and his eyes seemed to penetrate her very being, seeking out the secrets she kept hidden in her heart. She shook it off with another nervous chuckle,

“No, no, this was 100% me. I’ve been so nervous about these love making shoots. Chuck’s is telling everyone back in Hollywood this is the first the first film with a sex scene - “

“Isn’t it?”

“Well, I mean, since the production code, maybe, but they’ve shot plenty of them. It’s just that the studio always pulls out at that last minute -”

Ina covered her mouth and gasped when she watched Elvis’ lip curl up at her words but said nothing. He didn’t need to. The glint in his eye said it all and when he waggled his eyebrows up and down Ina laughed out. She was grateful for the levity, it seemed to crack through Elvis’ cool bravada and made this conversation easier.

“Stop, you know what I mean.”

She blushed, and looked out her window, watching as the silhouettes of two people walked by. It was getting dark, she needed to wrap it up.

“But yes, today I was nervous, I haven’t been eating or sleeping much, but I promise you - “

Her voice wavered as she turned back to find his steady gaze.

“ - um - no more fights, no more difficult behavior. I am so grateful for this opportunity to work with you and I just hope you can forgive me for my lapse of judgment.”

Elvis stood up, his fingers were once more busy fiddling with his cowboy hat and he spoke in a low whisper.

“Ok. I forgive you. So long as you really ain’t mad at me.”

The breath hitched in Ina’s throat when Elvis looked up at her, biting his lip in a way that made the top jut out a bit as he searched her face once more, as if she were a puzzle he needed to solve.

She gulped. “I - uh - I - no, I just need some sleep - I “

“Honey I can’t help feeling like you’re holding something back here, and if we’re gonna get along, I need you to be completely honest with me.”

Ina looked away. Damn him, he was like one of those fortune tellers back on Coney Island who she had believed as a kid. As a teenager she had learned the truth: they had no supernatural talents, they were just extremely gifted at reading their marks. Like Elvis was reading her right now.

“Oh, I may have been upset about something but it doesn’t matter, it was silly and stupid, like me. I - I was wrong, and I apologize. I’ll happily apologize to you in front of the whole crew tomorrow if you want. Really. If that is what it will take to make amends with you Mr. Presley.”

Elvis clenched his fists.

“I don’t give a damn about a public apology or the crew or any of that. But I can’t bear it when a woman is sore at me and won’t say why. Ticks me off to no end.”

Tension hung in the air, and Ina sighed. Recounting the whole ordeal made it seem so juvenile now, though it still stung.

“I - I am, I heard some of your friends talking. They -”

“Which friends?”

“Jerry, Jerry and Charlie. I told you, it’s like high school and I can’t believe I let them upset me.”

“Well now you started, better lay it all out for me. Go on.”

“I - I well, I heard them laughing about how you had said I looked like - like drag queen that needed a shave. And they were calling me Groucho and saying I had big feet.”

Ina let her shoulders drop and forced a smile, but she couldn’t stop her hand from pulling on the necklace at her chest.

“Ha, actually now that I say it is kind of funny, you see I - um - I usually have a great sense of humor. Any of my friends would tell you. Some of them are drag queens, actually. They’d probably feel more slighted being compared to me. Your boys just, they - they just caught me right before I was filming my first nude scene and well - “

Ina’s voice trailed off as she watched Elvis get up and pace towards the bathroom growling.

“Those fucking nitwits, pulling a stunt like that and gummin up tha works -” he turned and his face fell at the pained look on Ina’s face. “You know I never said nothin’ like that.”

Ina quickly shook her head, summoning the calm veneer that usually came so easy to her. She immediately regretted telling Elvis, now she felt as raw as she did after she had a full waxing appointment at the salon.

In her heart she knew he was lying, she knew from the way he had grimaced, albeit it briefly, on set when she’d said she wasn’t a drag queen.

Yet there was something earnest and pleading in his eyes that made her question her own grip on reality. This got worse when he bit his lip and looked up at the ceiling, all vulnerable and apologetic, as if searching for the right thing to say. It made her stomach flip up into her throat. Then looked at her, his eyes wide with a newfound warmth as he sought a connection from across the room, as if he were seeing her for the first time. Ina knew right then that she needed to get him out before anything changed.

“Oh, yeah, sure, I know. And, well it doesn’t matter anyway, right? I mean it’s none of my business what you think of me - like I said, I knew some knockout drag queens, so it’s a compliment really. Ha so - “

Elvis stode over as she spoke and grabbed her hands, his thumb delicately soothing the top of her knuckles. The spicy smell of his aftershave entered her nostrils as he spoke in a low, soft voice.

“Here’s the thing now, Iny Beany, I just need you to know though that I didn’t say none a that. Ya right, them boys still in high school, and they been playing pranks like we’re still in high school. I guar-an-TEE you they knew the assistant had just called for you, and they set that whole thing up to ruin my first sex scene shoot. Have half a mind to fire 'em. They need to learn some goddamn respect."

Ina found herself transfixed, unable to step away or pull her hands from his. She looked him over. He somehow looked like a cowboy who had let a bunch of drag queens dress him.

He wore a fresh pair of dark green slacks, a thick leather belt and a long sleeve white linen shirt. Over his hands sat several jewel-encrusted rings matched by the two necklaces that lay underneath his red bandana, tied much like a silk ascot through a cravat. His foundation make-up was impeccable, and his hair was styled in a high quiff perfectly slicked back above his forehead. It made him look cavalier and polished at the same time.

Then there was the way his smokey eye makeup was now smudged around his waterline made him look even more ruggedly attractive. Sweat glistened underneath his beard, almost like glitter. There, in the dim light of her motel room he looked like the prettiest cowboy she had ever seen.

“Know what I mean?”

Ina shook her head, realizing she’d gotten caught up staring at his scruffy chin and lost track of what he was saying.

“Um, I’m sorry, what did you say?”

A sly grin tweaked up the corners of his lips.

“I said, you cain’t listen to a word outta those boys' moufs, ‘specially Charlie. His elevator don’t go all the way up, if you take my meaning.”

Elvis stepped in closer to her, cautiously, waiting to see if she stepped away or flinched. But it was all Ina could do to just keep breathing, each stroke of Elvis' thumb over her hand now sent a bolt of electricity down her chest.

“How I could I say something like that about you, Iny? Ya so beautiful, I could barely look at you too long before turning into mush.”

Ina rolled her eyes, but she could feel her own resolve waver as his hand moved to her hips and a blush crept over her face.

“Stop, you don’t have to lie to me.”

He shook his head, his nose tickling over hers.

“How can you say that Iny Meany? You have no idea, no idea what you do to me.”

Ina’s heart skipped a beat when she felt his thumb at the indent of her girdle. The air between their bodies seemed to crackle now with heat, and he pulled her closer, nuzzling his nose over hers. A tear rolled down her face and he lifted his finger to catch it.

“Ssshhhh, s’ok baby, s’ok. I got you. And I promise ain’t no one gonna talk like that about you again.”

He pressed his cheek against hers and she pushed back,willfully embracing the harsh scruff of his beard. She could feel herself teetering on the precipice of something dangerous. If she crossed this line with Elvis it would change the dynamic of their work together, it would change her reputation. She had vowed to herself she wouldn’t be susceptible to his charms, him, of all people. He was so obvious, so cliche. And yet here she was, nuzzling her nose back along his.

Emboldened, Elvis gently pressed his lips to her skin, peppering her jaw with light kisses. Ina eagerly moved to give him access to her neck and he instantly took the hint and suckled at her nape, pausing to grin as she moaned out a high, breathy unladylike moan.

Her chest heaved as their lips met and the faint aroma of mustard filled Ina’s nostrils.

“Oh my god, you taste like hamburger.”

Elvis chuckled, unsure of himself for a moment. Ina enjoyed watching him become self conscious.

"I’m sorry baby, you want me to go brush my teeth?”

She shook her head, pulling him closer and speaking between kisses.

“No - mmmm - it’s amazing — mmm - haven’t had a mmamburger in months.”

Elvis let out a nervous laugh.

“Ok, ya kook, I’ll be sure and eat hamburger every day.”

"Ha! I'm gonna hold you to that, Presley."

His fingers brushed over her thighs as he lifted her onto the dresser and Ina trembled.

“You ok? Just say the word, and I’ll stop.”

She shook her head, stopping was the last thing on her mind. Though she suddenly thought of crew members at the pool who’d seen her call Elvis into her room to apologize.

“I wonder what everyone outside thinks we’re doing in here.”

“Hmmm, whatever they’re thinking, I guarantee it's not nearly as good as what I’m thinking.”

“Elvis - I - I don’t want to have sex.”

He arched his eyebrow.

“Whoo now, who said anything about sex?”

“I mean, of course I want to have sex with you.”

He stoked her thighs, a faint smile on his face.

"Relax Iny, we’re just having some fun. Don’t overthink it. We ain’t gonna do nothin’ you don’t wanna do.”

Ina released a nervous giggle. “OK, you see, I um, well, actually the thing is that I sometimes break out when I - I do it.”

“Really? You know that Max Factor stuff will cover anything.”

“Ha! I know - I just think tonight, no matter what I say later, we should just keep it simple.”

“I gotcha Iny girl. Sweet. Simple.”

Ina’s pulse quickened at the way he leaned into her chest, his hands worked up from her thighs. She felt like a giddy teenager as she smiled gleefully into his face, her right hand fiddling with his ear.

“You have a great earlobe, you know that? I can see why you’re a movie star.”

“Huh. That right? Cuz of my earlobe?”

He leaned in and kissed the top of her nose.

“Oh yeah, it's very photogenic. I see why this is the only part of you in frame during the sex scene. I mean the rest could as ugly as Boris Karloff -” Ina waved her other hand in front of Elvis face. “But this lobe, right here, it’s a million dollar lobe.”

Elvis chuckled. “That right?”

“Uh huh. I hope you have it insured - oh god.”

Elvis' right hand moved over her breast, flicking her nipple.

“Hmm, well, maybe I should stop whateva this is and go call the colonel, get him right on that, uh huh.”

He moved as if to leave, smirking at how quickly Ina pulled him back into her arms.

“Don’t go.”

She squeaked out, voice cracking.

“You sure? You don want me to fetch a rattlesnake to kiss instead? See if you like making love to his earlobe?”

“Stop.”

Ina swatted him, straightening the line of his bandana.

“Please don’t repeat what I said earlier, I was tired and nervous and upset and I hate myself for that whole scene. I really am sorry, Presley.”

“I know, baby, I know. I'm just teasing.”

He pressed his lip son hers once more and Ina rocked forward into him, following the slow, tender rhythm of Elvis’ body. She felt like a buoy, still unmoored and adrift in the ocean, but now she didn’t want to come into shore. She wanted to stay like this, swaying back and forth to the ebb of Elvis’ tide, delighting in the wet smack of Elvis’ lips every time they smashed into hers. Again and again.

Her whole body buzzed when his fingers trailed down to her hem and absentmindedly began to work their way under her dress. He had notched himself between her legs, fitting snugly against her knee caps. She made a small squeak of surrender as she opened her hips to bring him in closer. The taste of onions and pepsi and meat filled her mouth as he took her with the tip of his tongue, slowly owning and consuming her completely.

Elvis moaned into her and deepened their kiss.

Ina lost herself in the sweet supple cushion of his lips. His hands moved over her bosom, fanning the spark in her belly into a flame. Then his fingers moved under her skirt and feathered over the warmth of her panties. Ina felt the bulge begin to swell at her thigh and then Elvis jerked back.

Every cell in her body cried out to pull him back into her embrace and then until he was inside her and they were melting into each other. Vows and boundaries be damned. Thank god he had some sense of self control.

“Whooa, whoa whoa.” He muttered slowly, almost painfully.

Ina nodded, licking her lips as she met his eyes.

“You ok?’

“Yeah, you?”

Elvis took a deep breath. “Course, honey, I - I - I just think we better put the breaks on for tonight.”

“Yeah, sure, no. Totally. This was exactly what I wanted.”

He wiped his mouth, shooting her an impish smile, like he knew exactly what she wanted.

“Guess I should clear out, huh?”

“You don’t have to leave, I mean, I enjoy your company. Is what I mean. But if you are looking to get lucky, then yes, I suppose you should find one of those extras you've been playing patty cake with.”

“Huh, okay, well I'll be on my way then. Catch ya later.”

But he didn't move, just stayed there hovering above her. His forehead leaning into her as he pushed in even closer, pressing the air out of her lungs.

“You do have a reputation to keep up. I understand.”

"Mhmmmm."

Elvis shook his head and went to sit on her bed, up against the head board.

“Look, I'm willing to put my reputation aside, jus for one night. I promise, no funny business. Clothes stay on.”

He smirked.

“Unless you’d feel more comfortable without your dress on.”

Ina hesitantly moved to perch next to him. She could still taste the mix of Elvis’ salty sweat on her tongue as she wiped her raw lips.

“That’s awfully accommodating of you, Presley.”

“What can I say, Iny Beany, I’m an open minded guy. Always say, if a girl wants to take her own dress off, who am I to say she can’t?’

“Well, if it’s all the same to you I think I’ll keep mine on. For now. There’s still time for you to make an exit.”

“Aw, now shut up with that exit junk already and get in here.”

Elvis pulled Ina down into the curve of his arm, and she sighed, embracing the cozy warmth of his body and rubbing her hand over the trim stretch of his stomach as he spoke to her in a soft, friendly voice.

"Alright now, I want you to tell me everything there is to know about you. How did the hell you end up in a god forsaken Elvis Presley picture, huh?”

“Hmmm, poor life choices? But Elvis, I thought you liked this film? I thought you were the one who made it happen.”

“Aw, well, sure, the first script was pret-tee fantastic. It was gritty and had guts, ya know, but then these damn producers been wittlin' it away to nothing, man. Chuck cornered me this afternoon once you'd left and started in on nagging me to sing the title song.”

“You don’t want to sing? Just the title? it would be so good.”

“So you like the way I sing, Iny?”

Elvis’ eyes danced but then he remembered what they were talking about and was solemn once more.

“Yeah, naw man, that would set it up as another Presley musical, the next they’ll be trying to get me to sing to my horse. No self respecting cowboy sings, you ever heard of a singing cowboy? Never seen John Wayne sing.”

“OK, sure, but what about Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Hank Williams was the Driftless Cowboy, right?” Elvis leveled her with his blue eyes and pinched her side.

“Hmmm - guess you got me there. But it’s 1968, I’d like to see Gene Autry sell a movie in today’s economy. My boy my boy. Today it ain't no joke. Can you see him in The Good, The Bad and The Ugly?”

Ina tilted her head in agreement back onto Elvis' shoulder, she felt the same way she did sinking into a pair of comfy, worn-in slippers, and founding his chest as relaxed and welcoming,

“Trust me, I get it, I’m just grateful I don’t have to do a rape scene in this film.”

He squeezed Ina tighter, kissing her cheek.

“Yeah, me too, honey, real grateful. Boy. Don’t know why anyone want ta see that.”

“The old west ain’t what it used to be.”

“You can say that again.”

Elvis' arms closed around Ina tighter as they murmured the hours away, comparing diet pills, LA taco huts and favorite movies while their limbs easily intertwined into one another. The closest he got to undressing her was the moment around midnight when he stealthily undid her pony tail and played with her hair while she pretended to be miffed. Then he kissed her forehead and told her he had done her a favor, because it looked better this way, and she should just be a good girl and do as he said. Which got him a light slap and a big “HA!”

They spent the next hour enjoying a playful, cozy respite together in the dim orange glow of Ina’s hotel room. It was well past one in the morning when he gave her a parting kiss that turned into a series of parting kisses before he snuck back up to his suite.

Shooting began the next day at 7 a.m., and you could have knocked the director, Chuck, over with a long, pink gaudy boa feather as he found Elvis and Ina in good spirits ready to work. They exchanged playful barbs and their onscreen chemistry sizzled when they went through each sequence, pausing between takes for Ina’s chest to be spritzed while another batch of assistants dabbed Elvis’ forehead with dry unused coffee filters. The industry’s secret weapon against perspiration.

Elvis found Ina in her dressing room during a break and their lips met with stifled giggles as they kissed now with away from the ever present surveillance of the crew, laughing and talked into each other’s mouths.

“Oh my god, now you taste like bacon. I swear Elvis, you’re gonna have me off my diet and then I’ll swell up like a balloon and then Charro! will be a very different film about a cowboy and his pregnant saloon madam.”

“Baby, you gotta let yourself have one hamburger now and then, trust me now, I been doing this longer than you. It will help the cravings.”

Ina kept her mouth shut as she calculated that she had been in this business just as long as he had, since she began modelling at 15 in 1955.

“Ok. I give in. I have no willpower around you. I will have one hamburger this week.”

“Tonight, honey. Imma have you for dinner.” He winked. “Over for dinner, I mean. I’ll have one a my guys come get you and bring you up to my room later. ”

“Ok. Dinner. Tonight. Your room.” She grinned as she chased the taste of bacon on his tongue and the salty scent of his body as it enveloped her until a knock on the door brought them back into their roles on set as Jess and Tracy.

That night Elvis went through his usual routine after a shoot, which began with a shower to wash off the desert and the dust and the sweat of the set off his body. He took extra care in how he dressed, selecting a light blue dress shirt and a white suit, capping off his outfit with a small black porkpie hat. He doused himself in aftershave and the smell of Old Spice smacked Joe in the face when he came in to set up Elvis’ calls to Memphis and LA.

Once Elvis hung up his phone he leaned over and banged on the wall for Joe to come back in.

“You want me to get that sweet little Mexican gal boss? Alma?”

“Did I tell you to do that? That gal ain’t nothing but a big phony, naw man. Wait for me to tell you what to do, son."

Elvis stood up and went to slather more after shave on, exchanging one ring for another at his toiletry bag.

"Go down stairs and invite Ina up to join me for dinner.”

Joe let out a loud cackle. “What, Groucho?”

Elvis paused, taking in the look of disbelief on Joe’s face. His heart sank and he rubbed his hands over one another as he remembered how they all were howling at his jokes about her a few nights ago.

He hadn’t even really meant it. He’d just said those things after watching Alma and Flor look at Ina with envy during rehearsals. All he had wanted was to put them at ease, make them understand he was attracted to them. Saying what he thought they wanted to hear. But then the boys had chimed in and now they all thought she was a dog.

Elvis forced a low chuckle and ran his hand through his hair.

“Nah, man, not Ina - I meant Flor. Goddamn it, this picture messin’ with my head.”

He swallowed hard, thinking of the way Ina's beautiful big brown eyes looking up at him. They their legs had seemed to fit together, the way conversation had seemed to flow effortlessly. He smiled to himself thinking of the way she had blushed when he snuck into her dressing room. How her breasts had felt beneath as they ran their love scenes. He pushed away the pang of guilt for now and tamped down his desire to hold her once more. Maybe he'd sneak down to her room later if he could get away. But for now he had an image uphold. These guys looked up to him, and his control over them as their boss rested on the how cool they thought he was.

He snapped his finger at Joe.

“But I don’t wanna hear y’all calling her that no more. Tell the others. Like I said this morning, y’all shitwads talking like that is what got me in trouble in the first place.”

And with that, Elvis spent another night surrounded by people and utterly alone.

I don't really think I did Ina justice here, look at how great they looked together. We were robbed of their sex scenes.....

taglist:

@i-r-i-n-a-a @ab4eva @eliseinmemphis @richardslady121 @artlover8992 @ashtag6887 @karolshungary @j-v-9-2 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @notstefaniepresley @dollette02 @dkayfixates @everythingelvispresley @velvetelvis @moonchild-daniella @lialocklear @obsessionisthecure @louisejoy86 @arrolyn1114 @literally-just-elvis-fics

i don't really have a taglist for one-shots and I apologize if you don't want to be tagged, just let me know and I'll take you off.

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis #new hollywood elvis #charro!#banditqueenwrites

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juniperskye · 1 year ago

Text

Until I Found You

***Potential spoilers of The Rookie***

Pairing: John Nolan x Fem Reader

Sneak Peek: After his breakup with Bailey, John is convinced he will never fall in love again…that is until he found you. (This is taking place pre TO Nolan) Reader owns a Café (food truck).

Fluff/Angst

Word count: 2851

Warnings: Reader has kind of spooky vibes, no use of y/n, Implied age gap, mention of food and eating (no explicit details), brief mention of crime (no explicit details), mention of past relationships, mention of unhealthy relationships, mention of getting ready for a date (details are feminine leaning – shaving, makeup, nails, hairstyling), developing strong feelings quickly, one teeny tiny kiss.

Not edited - please be kind.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

After his breakup with Bailey, John was convinced he wouldn’t find love again. How would it be fair for him to have had love with Sarah, Lucy, Jessica, Grace, Bailey and for him to expect it again. His love with each of those women differed from one another, but they all had played a very important role in his life. For the last few months John had really just been going through the motions; sleep, work, eat, repeat.

Today had been a particularly slow day on the job for John, very unusual for the LAPD. He had been riding alone today which was honestly making the day drag on even more so. He was counting down the minutes until lunch – at least then he would get to socialize with his fellow officers.

Two speeding tickets, one robbery and a stolen car later, it was finally time for lunch. Heading to their usual spot, John notices that there is a new food truck parked, black with orange script on the side spelling out “Hallowed Grounds” alongside little white painted bats. John’s eyes were drawn to this truck not because it is new, or that the line was at least fifteen people long, but because of the beautiful person running the window.

It was Lucy who had ultimately broken John out of the trance he was in.

“Hey, you okay? You were spaced out there for a second.” Lucy questioned.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay. What’s with the new truck?” John wanted to see how much Lucy knew without giving away the attraction he was feeling towards this stranger.

“Oh! It is all over social media, Hallowed Grounds, it is mostly coffee, but the pastries are to die for! I mean literally that is their slogan!” Lucy laughed.

“The line is pretty long, so it must be good. Should we check it out?”

“Sounds good to me!”

With that, John and Lucy made their way to the line. Lucy was talking John’s ear off about some new social media drama, but honestly John wasn’t listening, he was far too distracted by your beauty and the honey sweet tone of your voice. You had this way about you that was breathtaking, moving with grace and just so patient and kind to all the patrons who had been waiting in line. They were finally nearing the front of the line, and John had realized he hadn’t even looked at the menu.

“Hi there! What can I get for you?” You smiled at him.

“Hi, can I get a medium caramel latte and a lemon blueberry scone?” Lucy ordered with no hesitation.

“Of course! And for you?” You looked expectantly at John.

“I um, can I just get a black coffee and, no that’s all.” John stuttered.

Lucy looked over at him confused as she paid, and they walked over to stand near the pickup window. John took note of you disappearing from the window and a young man taking your place.

“Okay, I know that we did not just stand in that long line just for you to order a black coffee. What is up with you?” Lucy questioned John. “OH MY GOD! You think she’s cute, don’t you?”

“Okay, hush! I’d rather not scare the girl off before I even get a chance to talk to her.”

“Okay sorry! I’m just happy for you. You’ve been sulking ever since you and Bailey broke things off.”

“I have not been sulking…okay maybe I have. But I really thought she was it for me.”

“John and Lucy?” You called.

They made their way up to the window to pick up their orders.

“Alright Lucy, a caramel latte and a lemon blueberry scone, and for John a black coffee and a chocolate croissant.” I hope you guys have a wonderful day and stay safe!”

“Oh, I didn’t…” John started.

“Thank you so much, you have a wonderful day too!” Lucy cut John off and began to drag him away from the truck.

The two of them went to sit at a table with Tim, Aaron and Nyla for the rest of their lunch. They were all hoping it wouldn’t be cut short by a call coming in.

“Alright Nolan!” Aaron exclaimed as John sat down.

“What? What did I do?”

“The bag. The barista gave you her number!”

John turned the bag around and sure enough your name and phone number had been neatly printed along with a little heart. John looked at Tim, then Nyla and finally to Lucy. He hadn’t been expecting you to give him your number, especially not after he had made a complete fool of himself in front of you just moments before.

Just as Lucy was about to encourage him to text you, a call came ringing in over the radios. Everyone was quick to get up and head to their respective shops. John heard Tim and Lucy radio that they were responding, and that Nyla and Aaron were acting as backup. He figured they had it covered, and he would continue to patrol, but not before adding you into his contacts.

Three days.

It was three days before John had gathered the courage to text you. He hadn’t seen you either, since he’d worked through lunch one of the days, had a pretty big drug bust on the second day, and was assigned to the front desk on the third day. Today though, he had the day off and now was his time to text you and see if you would want to go on a date with him.

John: Hey, this is John. From the other day.

You: Hi! I was beginning to think that maybe I was too forward.

John: Oh, no, not at all! I’m sorry, things have just been really busy with work. I finally have a day off.

You: Okay, good! I’m sorry work has been keeping you busy. Hopefully you’ve been able to stay safe.

John: I have. Nothing too out of the ordinary this week. How have you been?

You: I’ve been good! I have been testing some new recipes and trying to figure out what to swap in for the fall season.

You: Speaking of which…would you like to be a taste tester for me? I could really use a customer’s perspective!

John: I would love to! By the way, that croissant was incredible. I was actually texting you to ask you to dinner.

You: Yeah, dinner and then we can go back to mine to try these desserts?

You: Wow that was also very forward…I’m not usually like this by the way!

John: No worries. I won’t read into it I promise. So tonight, can I pick you up at 7?

You: 7 is perfect, see you then John!

After confirming your plans with John, you kicked it into high gear. It was 10:07 a.m. and you had a lot to do before you’d be ready to go. You really needed to get your nails done, you needed to finish the 6 different pastries you’d been working on, and you’d really need to shower before you could get ready.

After doing some quick math in your head, you figured that you would have just enough time to get everything done provided you shower while some things were baking in the oven. With that, you place the pre-cut cookie dough into the freezer (these would be easy enough to pull out and bake later when you and John go back), you placed the muffins and two different loaves of bread in the oven. That just left the cake that you were actively frosting and the pie that was cooling. Once the cake was thoroughly iced, you threw the dishes in the dishwasher and headed towards the shower, not without checking your timer to make sure you’d have ample time.

You were sure to go through all the steps of what you’d consider a full shower, washing and conditioning your hair, washing your body with your best smelling body wash, and shaving essentially every inch of your body. You weren’t anticipating that anything would happen tonight, but you wanted to be prepared nonetheless and you’d make sure at the very least that you smelled good.

After drying off and throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, you made way for the kitchen just in time to pull out the muffins and the bread. You set them out on the cooling rack, turned the oven off and then you headed to your favorite nail salon. They were able to get you in right away seeing as it was 12:00 p.m. on a Thursday.

Your nail appointment ended at about 1:30 p.m., which gave you enough time to head over and check on your staff and the truck. Upon arrival you noticed there were a few police cruisers parked along the curb. You knew John was off today, but you still found yourself scanning the crowd for him.

“He’s not here.” Your staff, Ezra, had called over to you.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You tried to hide your blush, embarrassed about getting caught looking for John. Ezra was the one who had encouraged you to give him your number in the first place, having seen how smitten you were with John when you’d met him the other day. Ezra and you had been friends for years, he could read you better than anyone.

“Mmhmm, sure thing. It was a different group this time around. What are you up to? Aren’t you supposed to be off testing new pastries?” Ezra questioned you.

“I was doing exactly that when John texted me and asked me out! I went and got my nails done and figured I would stop by and see how things were going before I went back home and got ready for my date.”

“OH MY GOD! See I told you that if you gave him your number, he’d ask you out. There were definite vibes the other day, he was so enamored by you that he forgot to look at the menu!” Ezra gushed.

“Okay, fine. You were right. I’m kind of nervous, he’s taking me to dinner, then we’re going back to my place so he can taste the new desserts and give me his opinions on them.”

“Girl, you are going to be fine! He seems nice and you are an amazing person, no reason to be nervous. Plus, what have you got to lose?” Ezra had always been your voice of reason in times of need.

“Okay, yeah. I should probably get going then so I can get ready.”

“Okay babe, have a great night! OH and you should wear the outfit you wore to our opening party, it screams you and its hot!”

“Oh, that was a good outfit, I don’t know where he’s taking me yet, but it should be dressy enough.”

You said your goodbyes to Ezra and made your way back home. It was nearing 3:30 p.m. and you knew you should probably start getting ready. You grabbed a glass of water and then got to styling your hair. You curled your hair and applied some natural looking makeup and went to get dressed. To pair with the faux leather skirt and starry mesh top, you slid on some black tights, comfy socks and your Doc Martens. Looking over at your alarm clock you see 6:45p.m. glowing red and you decide to switch to a smaller purse in the time you have left before your date…your usual everyday tote bag not exactly matching this outfit choice. You’d opted for a small leather handbag, with gold accents, it matched your outfit perfectly and was better suited for the occasion. As soon as you organized everything into the purse a knock sounded at the door. You took a deep breath then walked to answer it.

“Hi!” You greeted John as you opened the door.

“Wow, you look incredible.” John was awestruck, you had such a different style than the women he had previously dated, but he was really loving it. You were so confident in your own skin, and you just had this glow about you.

“Thank you, you look very handsome.”

“Shall we?” John gestured to his truck.

You nodded and the two of you walked around to the passenger side. John opened the door for you then offered his hand to assist you into the truck.

“Such a gentleman.”

John blushed at the compliment, he tried to shake it off as he started the truck and pulled out of your driveway. You made small talk on your way to the restaurant, which ended up being a very nice steakhouse.

John parked and looked over to you, he made note of the way you were inspecting the sign, and immediately panicked.

“I probably should have asked and made sure you weren’t a vegetarian!”

“I’m not! I love a good steak; my dad is a self-proclaimed grill master!” You laughed.

John laughed with you and let out a sigh of relief. He once again opened your door for you and reached to help you out of the truck. He was so different form the men you had dated before, so polite and caring. He listened to what you had to say and even asked you questions to learn more about you. It was so refreshing to be around someone like him. Truth is, you had dated some pretty terrible people in the past and that was the main reason you were single now. You’d decided to take a break from dating and focus on yourself and your career, which is how you’d gotten to the point of owning a very successful food truck. You had explained to John that your end goal is to have a brick-and-mortar location of Hallowed Grounds that was a café/bookstore. You wanted to create a cozy space for people to hangout while they enjoyed good food.

John just sat and smiled, he loved how you lit up when you spoke about it. Seeing you so passionate about something was honestly inspiring. He hadn’t expected the feelings for you to be so immediate, so strong, just crashing to the surface as the night went on. John could feel himself growing concerned about whether or not you were feeling as strongly for him as he was for you. The two of you had just clicked and it was so effortless.

What John didn’t know is you were currently battling the same demons. Was it really possible to be this comfortable with someone after such a short time?

Dinner had passed far too quickly for either of your likings, you were honestly just glad that you had already planned to continue this evening. You weren’t ready to say goodnight to John just yet. As John drove you back to your place, he took a risk by reaching for your hand to hold, you were quick to slide your hand into his and you couldn’t help but blush. John couldn’t believe how soft your hand was and it made him think about how rough his must be from his years as a contractor, he shook the thought away as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

You made it back to your place relatively quickly and John once again made sure to assist you on the passenger side, only this time instead of offering you his hand, he was a little bolder. He’d placed his hands on your waist and slowly helped you out of the truck. You stood there, chest to chest, your breath hitching from the proximity. Your gazes danced over one another’s face, shifting from eyes to lips back to eyes, silently asking for permission. When you slightly tilted your head, John understood and reached his right hand up to cup your jaw as he brought you in for a kiss. The kiss lasted for what felt like forever but ended far too soon. You wanted to exist in this moment infinitely.

You and John held hands once again as you staggered to the door. You made quick work of the lock and invited him in, guiding him to the kitchen.

“You ready to try some desserts?” You asked.

“Absolutely!” John replied.

You blushed, realizing the double entendre and moved to get all the desserts plated up. You explained to John that you’d need to throw the cookies in the oven, but they only took about 10 minutes to cook. He nodded and asked if you needed any help with anything, which you declined and encouraged him to relax.

John watched as you worked in the kitchen, this had been your element and it was like a well-choreographed dance, the way you moved. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, picturing the two of you like this, years down the road. He knew that you had only just met, but after tonight he couldn’t deny the connection. He realized he had been wrong when he said he would never fall in love again. That was true, until he met you.

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