#Tom Cruise oneshot

[mqverick]

red murder || . ｡˚ ✧

mature themes, 18+

blood mentioned, consider yourselves warned

“Shower me in blood, child

Shower me in lipstick.”

·:*────────── ✮ ───────── *:·

A biblical angel. The meaningless chatter of the riches was faintly evident in the atmosphere as you locked eyes with someone, who you didn’t know at all, who had such a striking stare into, not only your weak eyes, but also your entire body. He looked like a biblical figure, an angel perhaps, but there was something about the way he stood, shoulder lazily leaned against the velvet curtain, that pegged him not to be a creature of purity.

No, he was so distinguished and poignant, that it made you forget who you even were. Despite the fact that he was the one boring into your soul, you found yourself inexplicably dependent upon the gaze he’d cast on you, as if your heart would simply get squeezed stopped if he looked away.

Captivating could be another word to describe the façade of the luscious blonde haired stranger, eyes politely stiffed into the pockets of his expensive, elegant coat, decorated by golden buttons that shone under the dim light of the room. His eyes were either gray or hazy blue; either way they drew you in dangerously, causing you to get deeply lost in their shadowy gravitation. You wondered why he was, only for the sake of it, knowing well that the chances of getting to see him outside of the gathering were close to zero. Nevertheless, your insides turned painfully up and down as he kept the eye contact strong as ever, mind twisting at the thought of what he could possibly be thinking about.

Whoever he was, you hoped dearly that he’d have no ability to read minds, otherwise you were as good as gone. You were still young and inexperienced, but that never stopped your imagination. The corners of his lips turned into a slight smirk as he finally looked away, giving you the chance to regain control over yourself and remember how it felt to breathe. Who was he?

You opted to avoid approaching him, dreading the inevitable possibility of fainting upon his aristocratic stance. You walked into the mass of the crowd, fading into the pretentious laughters and snickers, heart beating fast into your chest as you placed your gloved hand over it on your chest, hoping it’d help it get back to its steady rhythm. You found escape in a dark hallway.

You felt dizzy just by the look of a wanderer in a charity ball. You took a deep breath, squeezed your eyes shut to regain your consciousness and let your pupils blur back to their senses. Your chest heaved painfully when you caught sight of his piercing icy eyes glowing into the obscurity of the room. You need to run, a tiny voice rang in your head, but the buzzing sounds of the blood pumping right into your ears was too loud to not cover the challenging warnings of your inner conscience. Your legs stayed frozen in place, blood running cold in your throbbing veins.

He finally approached you, slowly but with steady steps. The limited light blended with his skin, which you could still barely make out as his eyes moved up and down your body. He looked abnormal once again and you wanted to scream from the top of your lungs, but something inside you prevented you from making the smallest sound. You opted for playing it nonchalant.

“Have we met?” you asked firmly, eyebrows knitting together at the soft chuckle he let out.

“I believe not, at least not yet. I’ve noticed you. From across the room you captured my attention,” the curves of his mouth went up slightly as the smirk on his face grew larger and evidently smugger. “Don’t be nervous, my love.”

“Me nervous?” you asked, voice trembling now.

“Indeed you are, no? The way you’re standing here just like you stood back in the main room, all by yourself. Legs weak, the small shake of your knees… I can see it all.” His eyes wandered down your neck, growing particularly fond of the little vein there pump your warm, sweet blood. You followed his gaze, unable to see what he was so fixated on, catching back his attention as you pulled your sleeve higher up the shoulder in a kind of discomfort that you couldn’t really explain.

“What are you?” you found yourself questioning.

Not who, but what. The name and origin of the man did not concern you as much as how he possibly managed to look so pale, yet stand alive in front of you very eyes, with such a pompous demeanor. He chuckled, still intensely gazing at the side of your neck, down to your collarbone, then back at your lips. Shivers ran down your spine, but you kept your calmness, at least on the outside. You slightly tilted your head and waited for an answer, but instead, he gave you a smile.

One that you could not read for the sake of it.

Was he enjoying holding you in the emotional state of mind that you were in that moment, while he stood barely five steps away from you? you pondered quietly in your head, but it was almost as the man in front of you could read every single thought behind that head of yours. Your heart drummed against your chest, you backed away with every small step he took closer to you.

“Don’t be frightened, my love. I mean no harm.”

The tone of his voice and newfound appearance, that you’d truly never seen in any other person before, pegged you to think otherwise. “Quit calling me that,” you gritted through your teeth.

“Fine. Maybe I do mean you a little harm.” He burst out in chuckles the second he noticed your eyes slightly widen at his statement. You were at loss of words — what was so amusing to him?

“What is it that you need from me?” you tried again, but there was nothing you could possibly elicit from him that wasn’t a snarky snicker or stomach aching smirk. Your eyes fogged with fear and an inexplicable desire for knowing him better as you watched him grin the same time your pulse quickened significantly. You took another cautionary step back. He took one forward.

“I want to give you the choice…” he said carefully upon the cell of your ear, long fingers coming up to slightly graze against the skin of your jawline. He lets the sharp edge of his metallic ring barely, just barely, follow the curve of your cheek, causing a thin, white line to form as he pressed with enough force to just see a scar forming, but not letting any blood come out of it. You couldn’t help but feel the sensation of pure bliss to the way he touched your face, even though the voice that urged you to save yourself and run was getting louder and louder by every passing second. “…That I never had. You could come with me, spend the rest of your life by my side, be the companion that I’ve longed for for years.”

Your heart was racing. You were astonished by the choice — half of a choice, you’d call it, since he hadn’t given you the second part of it yet — he’d proposed. You could feel every vein, either thick or thin, pump wildly the blood through it, until it reached up in your brain, blinding it completely from any logic you’d ever owned. “And why shall I be the companion of a man I’ve barely spoken five words to?” you replied sarcastically.

“Because I could take all the pain away. Give you a life like mine… where pain, suffering and death don’t exist. I could make you stronger, faster, smarter, give you all that the world has to offer, that you mortals never seem to seize… or even understand. You could be forever youthful. Just give yourself to me.” Your breath got suddenly stuck in your throat, a look of shock temporarily wrapping around your reddening eyes as you kept them open, momentarily forgetting how to blink.

“And what would happen if I don’t wish for that?”

He looked up, as if mockingly enough for your poor naivety, then swiftly grabbed you by the throat, your voice disappearing instantly. His fingers gripped around the sides and you felt his ring hurting into the skin, but it felt as though he’d cast some sort of spell that could not enable the sense to escape or even speak. “I could take your life away and no one would even come to find you,” he whispered gently in your ear.

Once he removed his hand from around your neck, you could finally start breathing again as the dizzying blur slowly faded away. He looked at you with anticipation, waiting for your reply.

“And how shall you ever do that? I could scream right now and have you be the one lying dead.”

“So blissfully unaware…” he mumbled softly, and like a ray of light, you heard him hiss as something sharp — the hard surface of… teeth… more specifically fangs? — threateningly bordered on the lower side of your exposed neck, which he held with his hand, tilting your head towards the wall that was across from you.

The epiphany hit you so suddenly and quickly that you had to refrain yourself from yelping, now finally out of the state of oblivion you danced around into. A vampire. A vampire, you figured, kept muttering in your hallowing brain in order to genuinely get yourself to pull out of the fanzines of what could’ve been a dreadful nightmare, when it was reality, hard, cold reality splashing into you like a bucket of freezing ice water.

“I’d rather you finish me than make me that loathsome creature of your own,” you struggled to breathe out, nevertheless the voice came out firm and dominant, to which Lestat turned a blind eye to as he moved up closer, invading your personal space and almost having you pinned against the rocky surface of the wall behind you.

“Your wish shall be my command, my child.”

The last thing that you remembered before a soul consuming cloud of darkness covered the bright ability of vision you owned was the faded blur of the vampire kneeling down, as you slowly began to lose sense and control over your own legs and brain. Lestat, as you’d found out his name was, had been sitting by your side on the maroon silky sheets of his own bed, carefully running his long, skinny fingers through your neat locks. The way the lamp on his nightstand shone made your hair look like they were going to catch on fire. The vampire hummed in pleasure as he let his eyes flutter shut for just one second, during which he only came in contact with the feel of your velvety hair that so smoothly rolled around his steady digits. A first blink, then another. You were in a room that you didn’t recognize, nor felt comfortable in. Your pupils were dilated as you awoke from the slumber, sclera pinkish to red instead of white, as if you’d been crying.

Nothing about the setting felt familiar. Your sighting soon got restored and the heart was caught inside your throat when you laid your eyes upon his face, golden hair falling on top of his shoulders, face pale — almost white — but still beautiful; like he was filled with life, as ironic as that may be. Suddenly, you were hit with all the memories that ruggedly formed into your brain before you’d fallen unconscious on him at that ball. You pulled back, your head just an inch from hitting the wall behind as he laughed amusedly.

“Wake up… I’ve waited for so long to hear you speak once more…” he spoke in a gentle whisper that almost felt like a lingering caress on your cheek, his eyes glittering in the dim light. “Wake up, my love.”

Your limbs were somewhat trembling, power of defense against him unknown, as you fought back the urge to scream from the top of your lungs, unable to prevent his next move. There was something about the way he’d sat next to you, all so calm and unbothered, you almost wished you knew what was going on in his mind behind those light blue — almost gray — eyes. It had caused a newfound sense of anxiousness for the unexpected to pit deeply into the curves of your stomach, retinas glossy and puffy as he moved his hand on top of yours. You retrieved it immediately, but the action didn’t seem to dishearten him enough to cut the physical contact with you. Instead, it encouraged him to stomp even further into your space, cold index finger lightly, almost caring, grazing the outline of your chin’s shuddering skin.

It felt rewarding for Lestat; having you in such a state of mind, helpless, completely at his mercy. Your fate depended solely upon him and him only, even if that meant you’d have to beg him to spare you. He had no hostile intentions towards you, though, just simply enjoyed the way the terror entered your body, as you fought against it.

“Don’t be afraid,” he cooed, but you snorted.

“You spoke the same words earlier and here I am, in the house of a stranger, vainly trying to gather back my senses.” The tone of your voice was still on the same line that you’d left it during the first conversation with him at the ball. If Lestat was blind, he would’ve foolishly believed you weren’t frightened by him at all, which excited him.

How was it possible that such a beautiful creature, human amongst humans, had managed to evade his attention all that time? The tip of his thumb padded the side of your jawline softly, rubbing small circles there. “You’re troubled, my dear. I must refrain from my nature if I want to have you by my side, thus you shall not be scared about my actions towards you.”

“And why such kindness, if I may ask?”

Lestat’s eyes lingered on each feature of your face as he drank in the image of you, the woman who had captivated him, as much to the character as to the looks. The hair delicately falling on your shoulders, stopping just before the curve of your breasts, which was deep enough for him to study, every detail of each curve. The fear that consumed you in that very moment, as he sat so close to you, made something in him stir, a hunger that could not and would not be denied.

“Your human nature… it fascinates me.” His grin broadened, his voice thick with desire. He slowly reached out, brushing away the hair on your soft cheek. “The way you perceive things so fiercely, even though death threatens you at every second. Mortality is a curse, my love. I would save you from it. But I have no need for your blood.”

“Oh, Lestat, but you’re a fool, I’m afraid,” you spoke with a satisfied smirk upon your lips. He tilted his head in confusion, still seemingly intrigued nevertheless. “Immortality makes a man miserable. You forget to love and live. And what is the purpose that you’ve brought me here for? Be your eternal companion? I’ll never be yours. Let the years make me your slave for as much time shall pass, but the end of my life will come and find me one day, and I’ll be free again.”

Lestat’s brows furrowed in frustration as he took your words in. “You’re such an ungrateful woman,” he gritted through his teeth, the previous sweetness of his voice now completely gone. There was a small fire burning in his eyes, but that didn’t frighten you either, seeing as you preferred him to kill you in rage rather than sugar talk you with fake desires. Your heart pounded.

“If you don’t let me go on your own terms, I’m going to scream. Kill me for it, if you must, I won’t bring any resistance. I’m giving you a choice.”

The irony of your own choice of words made Lestat’s blood boil. You, a no one human being, had the audacity to twist his words into a joke?

“Scream all you like, my dear. It would serve you no purpose.” And as soon as the sentence left his mouth, you screamed from the top of your lungs for help, eyes watering in anticipation. Lestat got up from the bed, leaned against the wall as he crossed his hands across his chest, waiting.

He watched you with his typical air of amusement as you screamed in terror. Finally, a maid entered the chamber, concern and stress written all over her tired face from the yell that had echoed all the way downstairs. Her poor French accent soon died down her lips as she asked “Ce qui s’est passé?” while looking around for any suspicious actions. Lestat took her by the throat, sinking his fangs deeply into the collarbone as he used the sharp ring on his thumb to cut a small line there open, killing her faster. The blood began to pour down the entire floor, thick, dark and warm. He looked refreshed as he pulled away, throwing her limb body onto the ground as you watched in utter fear and disgust. Not the tiniest hint of a sound was able to come out of you as you covered your mouth in shock, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your entire body felt electrified.

Lestat smiled, savoring your qualm. He came back closer to where you were sat, shaking his head in disapproval. “Look what you’ve caused now… Are you happy with yourself?” You turned to glare at him, flames shooting through your red eyes as he kept trying to hold a laugh back.

“You’re foul! That woman was not involved!”

Suddenly, his face hardened. “I told you no one would come to help you,” he spoke, standing over you, the blood of the maid dripping down his cheek, painting his clothed chest like an empty canvas. “You have no choice but to turn to me, for I am the only chance you have at survival.”

“I loathe you,” you gritted through your teeth.

Lestat couldn’t help but smile at your disdain. He approached you slowly, his eyes moving up your body and then to your neck. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he spoke once more, his voice a whisper. “Good. Use that hatred. Hate me as much as you desire. It won’t stop you from coming to me, it’ll only make the urge stronger.”

You sighed, falling back into the bed as your hands clasped tightly over your eyes, hair messy and unruly as part of you accepted that his words weren’t just a figment of imagination. Somehow, you’d found yourself deeply lost into his midwinter eyes, ebbed ever so gently with cement, accentuated every feature of his sharp characteristics, glistening like stars melted in platinum. You wanted more, just like the way he’d predicted; more of those eyes, of his life, of who and how he turned into a vampire, if he missed his mortality at all, whether or not he enjoyed poetry as much as you did…

Ravishing was a way to put it. Lestat had wrapped you helplessly around his angelic — or was it even demonic? — charm, pulling you in further and further just like core electrons are tightly bound to the nucleus. You wished to escape from the invisible grasp, but you couldn’t.

“Do you miss your mortality, Lestat?” you asked out of nowhere and he looked a bit taken aback by your choice of question. Nevertheless, he came and sat back by your side on the bed, allowing himself to admire the way the silky fabric of your dress had fallen just a tad down your smooth shoulders.

“At times I do…” he spoke without hesitating, his voice a gentle, almost scared, murmur as his eyes fell to the ground. “There are times when I yearn for the sensation of being human once more. I miss the sense of wonder and discovery that comes with being mortal, and the feeling of truly experiencing life for the first time...” He looked back up at you in front of him a faint smile curling on his lips. “You remind me of that feeling, my love. That is why I chose you.”

You sighed in defeat and despair. There was no possible way out of this, you reckoned, just needed to find the will and strength to make amends with what the future held for you.

───

The following night, you allowed him to dress you up in the prettiest dress you’d ever laid upon your body. The burgundy colour and the rich, but delicate fabric fell down your curves so harmoniously that Lestat looked mesmerized by the way it draped over you. He’d complimented your figure as lovely and even though the certain choice of words had given your mind a little dizzy spin, you’d shown zero reaction to him. Instead, you followed him, arm strictly wrapped around his own as you strolled down the dark paths, before he opened the door to a ravishing ball for you. The memories came crashing down like a violent wave of déjà vu, that you so desperately wanted to wash off your mind.

Ironically enough, with your arms entangled, you felt some inexplicable sort of safety. You didn’t recognize any of the people there, but Lestat had promised you a fancy night out, just for the sake of it — and who were you to say no? He narrated the background of the marquess, who was sat royally in the middle of the main hall, two young male servants on each side of where her chair was placed, laughing politely along with her.

“See her? That’s the widow St. Clair. She had that young fop murder her husband,” he whispered lowly into your ear, causing the small hairs on the back of your neck to tingle. You gave him a strange and unconvinced look.

“How dare you speak such words of felony?”

“I can read her thoughts,” Lestat’s voice rang clear, that same soft murmur filling his throat. He looked at you with a playful grin; he enjoyed watching your expressions as you came into realization of the extent of his abilities. He also noticed your sudden freeze, and the corners of his lips broadened. “The thoughts run deep inside a mortal’s mind. They’re so easy to read, and so tempting to listen to,” he whispered. His voice was soft, sensual as he came even closer to you...

“And… and you’ve invaded my thoughts already, I shall presume?” You didn’t need an answer to your own question, already confidently aware of what his reply would be. “What am I thinking of?”

His tone was gentle as his own thoughts wandered inside of your mind, listening to the sounds of your consciousness and the things you thought of. “You’re wondering why I’m even bringing you to such a social gathering. You’re contemplating a way to get out of it... but you’re also secretly curious as to what kind of people will be attending such an event,” he leaned into your ear, his breath coming out warm against your skin. “You’re scared, my love. I can hear your heart accelerating in your chest. The faint sounds of your mind wandering into unknown territory.”

Your cheeks grew red and the saliva barely made it past your throat as it slithered down the length of it in a painful manner. He’d read you like an open book and you didn’t even have to speak a word out loud for him to come to said assumption. It indeed terrified you; how he’d been able to invade the privacy of your own mind, how you weren’t and would never be able to stop him from doing such thing, simply because the desire to stay in peace was beyond your power.

Lestat let a small smirk cross over his face as you blushed. He had found it was rather humorous how he could always seem to have this effect on you. “Don’t be shocked. It’s a trick I’ve learned over my years as a vampire. It’s… become something I hold no control over; if I focus on one person too long, I can hear the innermost secrets of their mind, their desires… their sins.”

“Their desires, you say…?”

You couldn’t help the question when it flew out of your mouth, just like a young child yearning for knowledge of its world. Lestat smirked.

“Yes. Even their most intimate desires... it’s quite intriguing to see the depths of the mortal realm.”

“I want to know about your desires, in that case.”

“Is that so?” his low voice was inviting, close to seductive, you beckoned. His eyes momentarily took a glance at your long legs and the way the dress fell over them, before you spoke again.

“It’s only fair since you know my own ones, already. And don’t even dare deny such thing, I know for a fact that you’ve done it.”

“How perceptive of you, my beloved,” Lestat’s voice was still a soft whisper, tracing the outline of the call of your ear, and he stepped even closer to your side. His breath hitched slightly as he took in the scent of your skin, your femininity. His eyes traced down to your lips again, and his own desires came to life. “At this moment, my desires are simple... they include the two of us alone… together... no one else.”

“No one else…” you repeated with a fragile tone.

The vampire’s voice lowered as his eyes wandered down your body once more, taking in the way your chest rose and fell with your short breaths. “I imagine the two of us without the noise of the crowded ballroom. The way that no one else is there to hinder us… our bodies would merge together, with no one around to intrude as, you and I… free to do as we please.” His mind wandered to the possibility of you alone in his room, of what you could do.

“Oh?” you encouraged him to go on, as if less than twenty four hours ago, you hadn’t uttered out that you loathed him. “You’re always so poetic when you want to end up in bed with someone, Lestat? Speak more to me with what we’d do. In this volume of voice… these words…”

You were undoubtedly washed with a sense of newfound arousal for the vampire and it didn’t escape his attention. His voice had grown raspy with the words that poured from him, a certain type of hunger coming over him as you listened.

“I can’t help but wonder about your sudden change of heart,” he chuckled with a smirk.

“I’m weak at this very moment and I’m letting you take advantage of it. We’ll go back to your manor and we’ll have all the privacy we need… we can spend the night alone, together, as you said.”

His eyes were locked on yours as his mind continued to drift away into those lustful desires. He craved you, wanted you in a way that not even his vampire nature could fully comprehend. Your hands curled around the lapels of his silky shirt and you then run your fingers all the way down his body until they clasped around his own hands.

You couldn’t tell how the time passed, finding yourself from one moment to another; from a fancy, loud ballroom, to a oaken, hand carved door that led into a lavish French-furnished bedroom, which you had —oh, so well — gotten used to. There were heavy shades on the window, an almost magical mosquito netting falling across the sides from the bed, like golden tears. You looked around for a moment, trying to help the blur of your thoughts to comprehend that this was beyond a dream reality, that it was life.

Life, as ironic as it might seem.

Lestat walked behind you as he shut the door, step light and slow. He took his time with tracing the outline of your shoulder blades that the dress allowed you to reveal, his index finger gracefully teasing the skin with only the physical contact of the digit and the bit of the nail that stuck out. His breath hitched when his hand travelled lower on your back, right hand coming up to twirl the tip of the zipper playfully, silently asking you for permission for his next move. He’d ordered all the staff to leave, so that when you’d entered through the mansion’s doors, he’d locked it behind them.

He could see you hesitate, not that he cared much about it. It was certain to Lestat that once the silence fell in, you’d come to be too focused on your intimacy with him to think back on your own emotional barriers. His assumptions proved true, once he quickly unzipped your dress and you looked back at him from over your shoulder with parted lips, not complaining, not asking him to stop. His eyes were almost sparkling as the candle light flickered on your pale face.

“Lestat…” you hummed, mostly as a plead.

But he didn’t say anything back, just picked you up in his arms, laid you upon the velvet sheets of his bed and getting on top, his gaze captivating and unnerving, head tilting to the side so that he could plant a trail of wet, sensual kisses all the way down to your neck, his tongue resting against the veins that popped out as you stretched your head backward for better access.

Lestat’s body was pressed flushed against yours, his now wrinkled shirt fallen down midway through his shoulders, revealing his bare chest as his mouth travelled further down, his left hand gripping around your neck. He moaned softly as he tasted the sweet scent of your skin, the feeling of your pulse rising against his own body.

“Please,” his voice was an alluring murmur as he spoke, his thumb stroking your collarbone. He could feel the desire growing within him to posses you, take you as his own. “Let me have you.”

───

You reckoned it was still nighttime when your heavy eyelids began fluttering open. You recognised the sound of a soft snore next to your ear, a pair of still wet and plump lips caressing and tickling the spot right below your earlobe. You slightly rose from the bed, careful as to not disturb Lestat and rubbed your eyes, but you instantly regretted the action, seeing as the chilly weather trapped inside the huge room caused your underdressed body to shiver. You brought the covers close to your chin and appreciated Lestat’s features. His body next to you didn’t offer much warmth, but the just feeling of having him there in such state had your cheeks matching a crimson shade of red. You hummed in pleasure.

You didn’t mean to wake him, nor made any sound to achieve such thing, but somehow, he’d half-opened his stunning eyes. You were still afraid of him, even if it was somewhat there. He smiled unintentionally when he acknowledged your presence, but didn’t say a word.

“This… it doesn’t have to mean anything,” you were quick to speak in a shaky voice. He only offered you a chuckle in response, bringing a hand out to brush the hair that fell into your face back behind your cheek, hugging you closer to his body. You wanted to attempt to feel his heartbeat, but somehow, your own was loud enough to cover any other possibly existing sound.

Lestat pulled the blanket over the two of you and rested the side of his face on top of your head as he laid a gentle kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes again and he leaned closer, his lips hovering just above yours with his breath being warm and inviting, as if beckoning you to merge with his own body. “Dream of me, my darling.”

───

You poured the second steep and drank out of the fine china cup, noticing the fragrance of the tea. Sweet Vietnamese cinnamon with a hint of floral honeysuckle that began to wrap around your head like the ‘I rivali di se stessi’. You’d really outdone yourself with the tea, finding the variety of herbs and scents in Lestat’s kitchen a joyful surprise to kill time with. You’d woken to the sound of what was almost identical to the pitter patter of sensuous rain on the windowsill. You saw him sitting at the huge, shining black instrument that looked like the sky on a cool summer night, coaxing impossibly soothing and amazing melodies from it. Lestat seemed lost as his fingers flew over the keys like swallows darting in a pond for fish. You sat on the couch across from him and sipped your tea with tired eyes.

“Why’d you stop?” you questioned once the sound was gone and his fingers were just resting on top of his knees. His breath was lost, too.

“You want me to keep playing?” His voice was hoarse and rasped, and he seemed to have lost some of the energy he had when you’d first met him. You pondered the reason, but not out loud.

“Sure.” He began to play again, the same slow, sad melody. You couldn’t help but wonder if it reflected the way he’d been feeling inside. As his fingers strolled through the keys, he looked at you from time to time, almost as if he wanted to say something, but his words always failed him before. “…When did you learn to play?”

“Hm?” He looked away from the piano briefly, his hand not stopping from playing. He didn’t seem to expect the question however, and so he felt a bit taken back. He began to speak slowly, as if he had to think about his answer a little. “My mother taught me how to play. She was a musician and she was very talented. She was a pianist...” He paused to think again. He didn’t want you to know much about his past, especially his human years, but he didn’t want you to think that he was just trying to change the subject either.

“Oh?”

“Yes…” Lestat replied softly, his tone remained steady. “She taught me how to play music, but also helped me understand it. It’s a form of… expressing, even if you can’t physically say it, you play it. Play with your heart, your emotions.”

His hand continued under the same melody, although his voice felt a bit more nostalgic. Still, you watched intently, your eyes following his every movement slightly from over the cup you held against your lips. You’d taken a fancy to the way he spoke sometimes, to his life and past.

“Did you have any family? I mean, besides your mom…” You knew the question was wrong and uncalled for, but it felt as though a burden leapt out from your body as it left your curious mouth. Lestat removed his hands from the instrument and got up. The heart trapped against your ribs was hammering, unable to know what feelings and memories of his you’d just triggered.

“Family?”

“Yeah,” you assured him. He didn’t seem any kin to reply to your question, however. “I’ve run away from mine. Mother held a knife to my throat every time settling down was mentioned amongst the family dinners. Said I’m old enough to convert to a church and become a nun. I don’t particularly care for marriage or any other form of settling down for that matter. I’ve got a free spirit that won’t rest until I travel in every inch of the world.”

You noticed him smile a little, weakly. But you could see him hesitating, hold back, suddenly all stiff. You asked him again about his family, but the only thing you managed to get out of him was a defeated murmur about the story having faded along the line, that it didn’t matter anymore.

“My story is much similar to yours… but it’s a long one, and it’s mostly full of unpleasant memories,” he said softly. Lestat could see in your gaze an unspoken desire to know more of his past, but he couldn’t allow you to witness the ugly side of him just yet. You urged to push him to reveal more, nevertheless, genuinely interested and curious.

“You ran away too?”

“It’s none of your concern to know that.”

His tone raised, frustrated now. You’d hit a nerve, it was certain, but would you risk to upscale his mood, whose limitations you hadn’t explored yet? You simply stared at him as he walked towards the heavy, red and golden curtains, turning his back at you. It wasn’t hard to realise that he couldn’t bare look at you, that if he did, you might’ve taken advantage of reading the raw emotions across his features, a curse that followed him through his early teenage years, up until for all eternity — as the future held to him.

“Whose concern is it then? I don’t see anyone else trapped in this prison of a manor!”

“Prison... prison?!” Lestat heard the comment, and it caused him to feel anger stir inside of him. You didn’t know what a prison felt like, this estate and this mansion was... “This estate is not a prison,” he said harshly, before yanking you by the arm and dragging you across the room in swift movements, all the way down to the basement.

The door that opened to the cold and damp room was torn down, old enough that the woody material on it had lost its brownish colour. Instead, it was a light beige, spider webs all over the rusty metal mechanisms that held it together. He pushed you inside, throwing you with force that caused you to miss your step and fall flat painfully against the dusty ground. He slammed the door behind you as he got in, teeth gritted.

“What the devil is going on inside your sick mind?!” you screamed, getting up back on your legs as you dusted your dress off. Your eyes matched his, sharp, snapping as they glowered.

“You want to live in a prison, yes? Have my blessing in that case,” he responded. You’d insulted him, the place he owned and grew himself up in. He held the door handle shut as he leaned against the door with his back facing it, patiently awaiting for your pleads to let you go. You understood that he wasn’t planning on freeing you any time soon and the anger bubbled within your nerves, matches starting fires in your head and heart. You didn’t mean the words that came out of you in the unfortunate moment, or maybe you did, to some extent, but it still hurt.

“I understand now why the memories of your family must be so unpleasant. No one would want a child like you, so arrogant and selfish. I pity the poor people!” Each letter escaped from your lips with poisonous stabs in Lestat’s heart.

He was stunned as the words reached his ears, hadn’t expected you to resort yourself in such a low place. “Is that so?” He needed to stay mad, slap you, punish you — do something, but all he could bring himself to dwell on were his years as a child, a human. He stared at you, reminiscing every detail, getting to live in his mortal body and soul for one last time as you speechlessly stared back at him, not finding the courage to apologize for the cruel level you’d stooped to. He heard you mutter his name as he almost broke the door in attempt of pushing it open, disappearing into his bedroom and locking himself inside. Ironically, his coffin felt freezing that night.

Lestat had lost the sense of understanding the climate around him a few centuries ago.

───

The next day passed and you still felt shaken. Lestat, with his usual tenderness toward you, had disappeared. Hadn’t spoken one word to you, not even walked in the same direction as you. It was weird how he’d managed such thing, seeing as you both lived under the same roof. The bed of one of the many guest rooms you’d chosen to hid into had been a ghost before your legs. It felt uncomfortable, unwelcoming, unable to hold your presence on it. You spent the night before scribbling drawings on a yellow paper you’d found in one of the nightstand’s drawers, not knowing what else to do with yourself. Twenty four hours being alone in a house with at least more than one lonely person. You took a deep breath and decided you needed to find him, see how he was doing. You’d softened towards him, it seemed, in less time than you’d expected. Your brain was still terrified to accept the idea of it, but the aching inside of your heart didn’t give it any other option.

You walked outside of the room and searched for him everywhere. Yvette told you she’d last seen him go outside. Back upstairs, you heard the soft sound of water running into the main bathroom and curiously walked over, leaning against the door just for a peak. Your mouth dropped and you shrieked loudly in unexpected terror. The bathtub went by the shade of an almost black red, thick, even if it merged with the water. There were bubbles covering the top and Lestat smirking next to it as he took a step closer.

“I prepared a bath for you,” he announced with a smile. You lost your voice along with every other possible function of your system. Lestat looked for a moment, the blood in it did fill him with a certain hunger that he had not felt before. He could almost taste it; the thought of you coming into the tub was almost alluring, he had imagined how you would look in that water... and how you would taste inside that water... he was salivating.

“W—Wh…What did you do?” you asked, your voice trembling, horrified at the freak show.

“What do you think I did?” his words came out with a cold tone, as he stared at you. His face was a bit grim, yet still his eyes were detailed with a certain lust. “You’re going to ask why, I assume. Why did I kill them…? Or why did I bring their blood here?” his voice was full of sarcasm as he spoke, he was making you more confused and scared, but this time, he was not planning to back down to your puzzled feelings and expressions.

“Both… Both!” You felt your knees weaken as you crumbled to the door behind you, the smell of the blood causing vomit to erupt in your throat. He looked at you as you collapsed upon the doorframe, the sound of your gag causing him to smirk a little. You had successfully lost all sense of control, and that was beyond pleasing to him.

“I killed them because I needed fresh blood,” he said slowly, he would not tell you anything more. A step closer, then a hand pointing at the tub, which haunted your soul. “Get in the tub.”

“No. No… no — no — you can’t… you can’t…!” You couldn’t speak. Your eyes were teary and your face had paled and he looked happier than ever. Lestat didn’t want to hear your plead, he didn’t want to hear you beg for mercy. His desire was taking over him, and now that he had killed a few poor slaves in the woods and the bloodlust inside of him had grown in intensity.

“You don’t have a choice.” He then walked towards you, his movements slow and precise. He wished to take what he wanted from you, no matter what you’d do to convince him otherwise. You’d cut deep with your previous words, which never went unnoticed nor forgotten. “I want to shower you in blood, my child.”

His eyes had grown a bright crimson as he got close to you, pulling you into his grip. You thought you were about to pass out, your body limped down on the floor, unable to move or resist. Lestat could feel your weakness, your fragility as you leaned against the door. One more pull and he began to drag you away from the wooden entry. You got more and more ill as the smell got stronger, your mind buzzing as his devious laughter echoed in it. Your throat was closing up and the need for air was growing more immense with your every weak breath. “Why are… you doing this?” you mustered with a middle pause.

“Because of what you said.”

“B-Because of what I… Leave! Let me go!”

You were kicking the air, panicking, trying to run away from him in desperate attempts. He smiled, twirled around your helpless body and hummed the melody of an old Italian song. The tears fell from your eyes artistically, in a way that they almost resembled the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise, your hands clutching on every item possible for a steady grasp that would still his intentions, free you from them. As your ultimate option, you resulted in begging with choked sobs. The pleads caught him off guard.

He couldn’t tell if it was truly fear, or a ploy of some kind to get out of the situation. He was hesitant, yet still had a choice to make, and the limitations highlighted the accident of choosing poorly due to the temper of the moment. He could feel the moisture dripping from your eyes as you begged him not to do this to you, but the hunger for the fright your vocal chords held was still there, distracting him from judging correctly.

“You mocked me…” there was still a hint of anger in his voice, but not the overwhelming kind. In fact, he felt more collected than ever. You’d brought this situation upon yourself…

“This… Lestat, please, please, I want this to end, please…” you sobbed into the comfort of his neck, your arms wrapping around him as they trembled. Lestat could feel you shaking against him as you sobbed. The intensity that he had felt was now fading, a little empathy rising towards you for the first time since you’d insulted him. Your fear made you seem so much weaker, so much more vulnerable, and it made his heart hurt as he looked at you, unfamiliar with this side of you.

He couldn’t stay mad. And he had to let you go.

“You’re making it difficult for me to keep you safe. As much from others as from myself...” he said softly as he loosened his grip on you, his hand holding your arm now was a soft and gentle one. It was not the grip of a killer, it was the grip of a lover. Yet his eyes were a reminder, still burning.

“This… it’s a nightmare, right? None of this happened. The tub… it’s just a nightmare?” you asked him, deluding yourself into a lie that you believed would calm you down. You were still on the verge of passing out, your eyes heavy and swollen as they blinked the remaining tears away.

“Yes... it’s just a horrible nightmare,” he spoke softly as he kept holding onto you, he wanted to lie to you if that meant that you’d start feeling safe around him again, comfortable, that you’d forget all about the tub. He could tell you were still scared, even if you had relaxed a little. He would not allow you to be afraid, did not want you to remember any of this. He only wanted you to remember being safe in his arms.

“I’ll wake up to your bed tomorrow?”

“Indeed.”

“I need to go to your bed…” you murmured under your breath, your eyes half-lidded as he nodded and took you in his arms. Your head rested on top of his shoulder and you couldn’t really tell what was happening around you; what was real and what was not, but in your mind, it mattered no more than a useless piece of information. Lestat carried you all the way to his bedroom and helped you on the bed, as he removed a few layers of clothes of his own. You found the warmth of the scent this particular bed held somewhat comforting, that you weren’t alone anymore. He came up back by your side and stroked your hair as he kept whispering in French, a language that even though you spoke less than fluently, always seemed tricky to understand.

“Tu as un beau cou.” The poorly spoken words grazed just the outline of his vampire fangs as they left his mouth and embraced your throat. Lestat leaned down just a little to place a lingering kiss on the side of your neck, right were your pulse was beating — throbbing — in a way of letting you know that he’d provide you with eternal safety; even from his own self. He cherished the satisfied tiny moans you let out as his promises hugged your soul and sighed. Even with your presence around, his room still felt cold and for a moment he allowed himself to wonder if it’d feel the same way in case he were a human.

“Je sais, mon amour,” he heard you sheepishly reassure him, not understanding in the slightest how you’d managed to do such thing in all your tiredness and corpse-like state. He was the one with the ability to read the mortal mind, yet it seemed like you’d known every inch and depth of his darkest and deepest thoughts since the moment you laid eyes on him. And oh, how he wished you hadn’t. Because Lestat refused love.

He refused the idea of love, thought of it as something miserable and pessimistic, because how could anyone devote themselves so much to a person to forget their own problems and beliefs. Poems, philosophy, theatre, music; they all refused love in a way. The destructive kind.

But his head tilted to the side as he sat in his coffin, watching you descend to sleep, and suddenly he was gone from the world, helpless.

───

“I want to breathe fresh air. Your house is suffocating me,” you’d said to him only a few days later after finding the strength to look him back directly in the eyes like you weren’t afraid. He posed as a danger to you now, after the cruelty with the tub, but you were superior to any of his schemes. The walls suffocated you seeing as he barely let you walk around the town, afraid that he’d lose you, that you’d run away from him.

The sky that night was tranquil. The dark canvas of the it was adorned with countless points of light, like shimmering diamonds scattered across a velvet cloth. The celestial bodies twinkled and glimmered, casting a soft, ethereal glow that captivated the imagination. You always loved to watch the stars, to admire the constellations.

And that night, Lestat was in a good mood, so even though his reply had been hesitant at first, he’d eventually let you do as you wished. With his hand secured around yours, he’d promised to take you to his favourite place, his hiding spot as a newly discovered vampire, his memory founder. You strolled around the town, walked for what felt like several minutes. The setting was unfamiliar and the thought of getting lost crossed your anxious mind for a split second, but given to the concentration on his face, he seemed to know exactly the roads he strolled through. There was a small forest, one you’d never stumbled upon in all the years you spent in Louisiana, even though you were certain you’d walked past it at least once. The air was chilly and there were no others around in kilometers; just you and Lestat. It was the type of place that many nobles would avoid. It reminded you of the haunted forests your mother would read to you about in the night tales to put you to sleep.

“Here we are. Do you like it?” he asked as he let go of your hand, intertwining his fingers together as his hands fell over his crotch. He looked at you.

“Yeah, a lot actually. How come I’ve never known about this place before?”

“Well…” Lestat explained, “It’s an unnoticed spot. Not many appreciate its natural beauty,” he spoke softly, as he looked around the forest once again. “They’re afraid to come here at night, and they try not to pass by during day as well. I don’t know why, if that’s your next question.”

“And how did you discover it?”

“I used to come here often.” There was no use in hiding that answer. He had been a child who ran away, and during those years where he explored this vast estate, he had found this forest. He didn’t know it was haunted — according to the superstitions — back then, but even now when he was aware of it, he would come here often. He had not left for such a long time. It felt like home.

“By yourself?”

“Yes…” He knew the answer was pathetic, that it gave his longtime loneliness away, and he regretted admitting it out loud. “You know, we’re similar in more ways than just our past.”

Your eyebrow cocked in confusion. “And how is that, may I ask?” Lestat paused for a moment, as your question made him think. That part hadn’t always been so hard when it crossed his mind many nights during sleep. Perhaps it had been the fact that he didn’t have to look at you when he thought about his past, but... now he had to.

“We ran away from it. We both know what it’s like to be alone.”

“But we’re not alone anymore, isn’t that what you’re trying to say?” you listed his words before he could do it himself, your voice weary, tears burning in your eyes, even though you understood that he emotional pressure was more overwhelming for him than for you. He’d opened up to you, just a hint of it, you realised, but you couldn’t know why and it pained you.

“We’re not... I...” he grew unsure, unable to finish.

“I want to watch the stars.”

Lestat’s mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but remained in that position, looking at you silently, surprised. “We can watch the stars,” he agreed and took you to a more open spot in the forest. It was clearer and there were less trees that would potentially block the view of the sky. The both of you sat on the grass, legs crossed as your eyes focused on the moon.

“Do you have a favourite constellation?”

Lestat thought about it for a moment. there were many stars he had been drawn to over the years, and he had studied quite a lot of them as well. But perhaps, there was one that particularly stood out to him. “Scorpio,” he said softly as he tried to look to see where it was in the night sky. His gaze was focused towards the stars as you spoke again.

“Scorpio? How so?”

“It stung Orion to death. I do the same with humans in reality. Well, drain them to death…” he paused and laid back on the grass, letting his body become one with the somber pasture. His eyes still stood out, even as the pitch black sky made it really hard to find your own step around. “It’s also one of the first constellations I studied.”

You gave him a little smile and carefully positioned yourself next to him on the ground. “I didn’t know astrology intrigued you.” Indeed it felt odd to listen to him speak about his interests, however it created an invisible bond between you. For once, he looked at the stars with company. He wanted to take your hand, show you that this was something he’d never gotten with anyone else, cherish the moment. You felt him do so, eventually, and tried not to react as if to give yourself away. “Can you guess my favourite constellation? But you shan’t read my thoughts.”

“Mm…” he considered. “Cassiopeia.”

“You read my mind,” you simply stated.

“I guessed.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t.” He turned to look at you and so did you. He was holding back from something, it was evident in the way his Adam’s apple bobbled, the way his eyes had a bizarre shine in them that they’d only get before he was about to ask you a question he knew unlocked more and more of him to you, which he both allowed and feared.

“Go ahead,” you encouraged, even though he hadn’t asked anything at all.

“Do you believe in fate at all?” Fate, as in, everything was meant to be in a way. He couldn’t help but think of the idea as you laid down together, in the presence of the dark blue sky.

“I think fate is misery. I don’t understand why it’s got to punish us for things we didn’t even ask for to happen. It kills us all in the mind. But I do believe in it, nonetheless. We’re all its slaves.”

“Why do you believe in it if it tortures you so much?”

“I don’t know. Shouldn’t you ask yourself the same question? Sometimes we don’t have an answer, we just let things be the way they are.”

“I think that what you call misery shaped me.”

“So you’re miserable, then?”

Lestat frowned as the words came from your lips. “No,” he spoke, his tone seemed to grow a bit frustrated. “I most certainly am not miserable, but I just think…” he sighed harshly, he knew what he was trying to say — he just couldn’t explain it properly — and maybe the way you stared at him, waiting in so much anticipation made him lose his track of thoughts along with his own words.

“You want to go back inside?”

He nodded and got up, upset over the fact that the time had been cut off so shortly. He felt strangely warm, as if he’d recently fed enough to cause the blood run through his veins, and he wondered if you’d make him feel that way every time you gave him the slightest hint of attention.

The night was deep and his house hollow as you stepped into it, ready to take your separate ways in the rooms, but the boldness coursed through your neurons as you asked him if he’d like to have a sip of wine first. No, he replied, he wouldn’t wish for one, because wine no longer got him drunk or offered him any form of careless enjoyment. You just sat by yourself near his piano and grazed your fingers over the last four keys. A messy, silent melody came out and for a second, it echoed over the entire room, one, two, three times. You wondered if it symbolized how lonely Lestat was.

It felt gut wrenching, even though you knew he was unpleasant, seeing him have no one in his life. Seeing him know so much about the stars and have no soul to talk with about it. You went into your room and changed into a nightgown. The breeze from the windows made it feathery against your body as it flew a little under your arms when you entered Lestat’s bedroom without making the slightest noise. His coffin was covered; he’d fallen asleep perhaps. You seized the opportunity to give his room a sharper notice.

There was a neat black vase with golden details placed on the dresser, it even had a rose in it. A rose that had lost its bloom; it was just wrinkled, a little yellow—growing to brownish—near the edges, all dried up, dusty and ready to crumble. A soft touch on the back of your neck caused you to gasp as you turned around only to realise it was Lestat, seemingly paler than usual, for a reason.

“Did I disturb your peace of going through my stuff?” he asked, but his voice didn’t sound mad.

“I don’t want to sleep just yet.”

His eyes followed yours until they fell to the rose you were examining. With a swift twirl, he brought it around his fingers and held it in front of your face. “Pour toi, ma chérie,” he whispered with a smirk as you took it and placed it over your chest, right where your heart was still steadily beating.

“Pourquoi le gardes-tu encore? C’est pourri.”

A disheartening sigh followed by a slight shrug of his exposed shoulders. “It symbolizes a lot.”

“Like what?” you persisted. Lestat took the rose from you and rubbed it between his palms as it turned from a dead flower to dried up powder, piled up in a tiny hill on the rug. You couldn’t understand his sudden burst, the frustration within him, but you were very aware of the fact that even the slightly wronged word could snap him. He didn’t reply to the question, either, just paced forward until he reached the bed. You felt the rest of the world move in front of your very eyes in a sped up warp, you laid right below his body, unable to move in resistance. How he got you in that position was beyond your brain to comprehend and for a split second, you wished to scream, but then remembered.

Lestat lowered his semi-opened mouth right above the vein in the spot he’d first noticed back at the ball, right there, an inch upper than the collarbone, pulsing and pounding in such a sweet way that he was unable to resist the image, how it’d taste like if only he allowed his sharp fangs sink in it, have the dark red blood make a mess out of his mouth, feel the nectar drip on the skin, the tongue. Something about it was so romantic, so deep for him, but he couldn’t do it.

“Laisse-moi faire de toi un vampire, mon amour. Laisse-moi t’offrir la vie d’un Dieu,” he murmured into the side of your neck as he placed the most tender and fragile wet kisses upon it, it was the closest he could get to his request anyway.

“No, Lestat, leave!” you panicked, instantly denying. He was under control, or maybe he wasn’t, but taming the lust that grew in him wasn’t such a difficult task, you’d discovered.

“S’il te plaît,” he pleaded, stripping the sleeve of your clothing down your shoulder with his thumb. He was trying to avoid the conversation you so desperately wanted to have about his past, knew that if he tried seducing you, you’d forget all about it and either end up in bed with him or run off scared. Either way it was working. The smirk was displayed proudly across his lips, his breath smelled like a mixture of an expensive fruit based alcoholic beverage and rosemary. You couldn’t tell how your brain functioned at that moment, as Lestat rose closer to your face and stared at your lips, wetting his own with his flushed tongue. He teased you, leaned down as if to kiss you but pulled away the very centimeter his lips were to touch yours and moaned lowly, almost like a ghost of a whisper. He pressed his thumb on your neck and held you tight, then bent down again.

He drew closer, and for a moment, it almost seemed as if you had pulled away. You staring at him with your boring common eyes, nothing compared to his, and then his lips enclosed on yours; soft yet immersive, gentle yet powerful all the same. All there was was the two of you, or one of you, rather, and all he could feel was you.

“Tu ferais mieux de me tuer,” you whinged as his teeth tugged softly at your lower lip in his motion to pull away. His breath got caught as he cocked his head to the side, eyes still lustful and hot. “Kill me, Lestat, since you can’t have me the way you want me to. Kill me like you promised once.”

“I didn’t—didn’t promise anything like that,” he stuttered while kissing your clothed cleavage.

“But I ask for death. Otherwise we shall be this way always, imprisoned in the hope of ‘what if’.”

Lestat stared at you, smiling, becoming a hazy dreamlike vision, then hyperclear. “Ah, but the price is high,” he laughed, sinking back into the scent of your body passionately, wanting to become one with it. You were serious, in a way, and that he knew, but even the slightest thought of staring at your gray corpse would kill him internally for all eternity. He couldn’t possibly…

“We could be both covered in blood,” you suggested again in a strangled moan. You felt his teeth against your skin, he smiled at the dumb images you had to offer in order to wrap him around the strong spell of undeniable temptation.

“You could be mine forever,” he insisted.

“You’re losing me already, Lestat,” you whispered, but he was too caught up in undressing you to hear. Just a few more months, you promised to yourself as you gave in the pleasure of the night.

───

Lipstick, you found, was how falling in love felt.

Starts off in a smooth surface, full of vibrance and colour, but eventually it comes to an end, either that is natural and non-bumpy, simply finishing because there’s nothing more to it except a few smudges—remainings—on the lid that you can’t get rid of, or it breaks in half, violently, with roughness, tears, anger. Just like when you apply lipstick and the bar becomes too soft to stay on.

Lestat had been your lipstick kind of love.

Except you never knew whether you actually truly loved him or if it was the illusion of him that had you so wanderlust and captivated to him. Months had passed, you’d stayed by his side through all the fights, all the murders that followed in his need to feed, the broken glasses and frames. He always ended up showing a bit more to his fragility after every rage, the stronger, the more. He’d grown to be an open book to you, attached, unable to let go, afraid. Vampires could love. And each human sense was triple as intense for a vampire, so when Lestat fell in love, he devoted himself to it completely, loved hard and immensely, never held back or restrained his emotions. Of course, he never said it out loud.

It had been a while since he’d had someone, a person, a real person to hold on to, to caress their hair at night, to whisper sweet nothings to, to just feel like he can be free with and love deliberately.

Nights were so deep and slow, the stars faded away every time his heart beat faster for you. A vampire could only cry once, he remembered he’d once been told (by whom was unimportant).

You were done, you decided. Had suffocated enough, had cut yourself from the world for him and that was the end of it. You had grown rather fond of him, enjoyed having him around, loved kissing him and talking to him, even fighting with him had become familiar, almost in the dream of being a family with him. You saw him sitting over the piano, contemplating. He raised his eyes at you once found around your presence and smiled. You motioned him not to get up and instead dragged your feet exhaustively towards his side, bringing a hand over his cheek, cupping it softly one last time as he obliviously leaned against it.

“You look handsome tonight, Lestat,” you said.

Indeed, he was impeccably dressed, just like always, in such royal clothes, each layer holding a different peel of his personality. Every feature of his face was smooth and calm, bright and pale at the same time, but the surface felt like a fresh painting; exquisite and vulnerable to any touch. It was probably the only time you’d ever seen him gift you with such a genuine, heartwarming smile.

“I’ve been wanting… dreaming of telling you something. For a long time now, I fear,” he began the moment you removed your palm from his face and instead placed it over his hands in his lap. His fingers found yours immediately and interlocked quickly, excitedly. It broke your heart.

“I’m leaving,” you announced harshly and suddenly his thumbs froze against the top of your hands, which he dropped. He felt lightning crackle through his veins and time slowed down. Your stomach had lost no time in twisting into knots, but you put on a façade that said otherwise, showed you off as strong and determined, cold, hollow to any emotion.

He stilled and looked at you with his jaw agape, mouth quivering. You weren’t just saying it, you meant it. You were doing it—he was losing you. Lestat felt his heart clench around nothing at all.

“Have I done something? I’ll give it to you, whatever it is that you need, I promise.”

His hands were now catching yours again, this time in utter desperation, a form to plead and beg. Your chest heaved as you noticed the corners of his eyes well up, retina glossy and wet, as though… no, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—waste his only chance to let the tears go down, because he was sure that whatever he did, he’d fix, there was a way, he knew it, he was sure of it. He’d offered you so many things, for God’s sake! A house, food, clothes, safety, his trust and love, and you were throwing it all away, like you hadn’t stolen his soul and merged it with yours to become one, like you hadn’t reminded him what it felt to be alive again, after centuries of suffering eternity. Because you had been right when you said to him that eternity kills; it slaughters the purity of the heart, fights against hope. It forces you to be alone as you watch everyone you love perish. And Lestat had been there, still was, would always be.

“I told you, Lestat. I’m not your slave. And I can’t do this anymore, I can’t stay here… it’s killing me. And don’t you—don’t you—dare say anything foolish about how you feel about me,” you threatened through trembling lips, fighting back tears the same way he was, except you didn’t know how long you could put up with the pain.

“You all leave me!” he yelled as he got up from his seat, covering his face with his hands as he moved in circles. “You leave me when I need you the most, you want me dead! All of you!” In his rage, Lestat raised his fist and shattered the marble vase that sat on the coffee table next to the instrument, pieces falling everywhere all over the floor, sounding exactly like the way his heart was breaking. And there it was; the first tear.

It fell from his face in a rush, violently hitting the cold ground, burning his cheek on its way down. His only cry, his only pain, all out in the open as he saw his world come crashing down. And what broke him the most was the look on your face, the urge you felt to remain nonchalant, though. Like your heart wasn’t ripping in half either, like you wouldn’t desire him, love him, give him a chance. Like you hadn’t let him kiss you all those nights as a silent way to confess his love for you, no.

“I’m not yours, I never was,” you struggled out.

“I’m yours. Don’t you see it? I would do anything for us, just let there be an ‘us’ for once, I beg you.”

“You just don’t want to be alone,” you breathed as his chest sunk with each breath. “You don’t love me, Lestat, you just love having someone to keep you out of the misery in your endless life.”

“You can’t… you can’t leave me… you can’t possibly believe all that,” he cried as he grasped your hands, but you pulled away, took a step further away from him with each try he made to get closer, to hold you for one last time, because if he ever had you around his embrace at that moment, you’d never be able to let go. You’d leave and Lestat would look for you in the face of everyone he’d kill to feed from with pure hearted and pleasure at the same time, such sickness that drew you away from him. He shook his head in denial, refused to let himself reason as you faded into a memory, or even a long lasting dream he never wanted to wake up from.

“I must…”

“I can’t bear it! Come back to me… when did I even lose you? When did you start to slip from me? I did… I did everything… I confined in you.”

“You needn’t say such things, Lestat…”

“You’ll stay.”

“No.” The answer was final, he knew it. Lestat De Lioncourt, knelt before your very eyes, broken down to the core, unable to get a hold of himself as his fingers weakened and he watched them slowly let go of yours, now holding nothing. He couldn’t hold you, just like he couldn’t hold anyone else in his life, not even himself.

The sun and moon yearned for each other, but time kept them apart. Eclipses would the only brief moments of bliss, when both of you could pretend that death hadn’t rooted into your souls, where Lestat spent the rest of eternity loving you.

FIN.

for my girl @honeymvnt !! this is your insanely late birthday gift, i hope it lives up to your expectations from all the nights we talked about it. love you 🫵🏼🎀

[malavera]

Since Your Type is Older Men (18+) — Tom Cruise

summary: Tom is filled with Jealousy when he sees you Zooming with your University Professor.

pairings: husband!tom x wife!reader

warnings: mature content, smut, unprotected sex, sirkink, agegap, squirting

w.c 1542

a/n: this one's dedicated for @rinimitchell and @angelaemme as they're always the first two to always show support whenever i post! love you both, hope you enjoy it! x

taglist: @tomsf18 @helloitstsyu @deanscroissant @moondustfairies @call-sign-shark @katherineswritingsblog @elenavampire21 @gypsymoon548 @cherrycruise @joeltheegoodson

"Baby, you're killing me. Tell me what did I do wrong?" You whined towards your loving husband, plopping yourself down beside him on the fluffy couch. He pays you no mind, his eyes focused on the flat screen flicking through channels as he's aware there's nothing exciting to watch.

A frustration can be seen on your face, turning your head towards the TV and watch him still going through channels that he never picked. You sigh, "Just pick a damn channel and look at me." You groaned.

Being stubborn, he didn't listen to you. At this point, you believe the TV could blow off any second from the way he switched on the channels. Pursing your lips, you decided to take matters into your own hands as you pushed yourself off to your feet to straddle his thighs, blocking his view.

Settling down on his lap, you aggressively grabbed the remote from him and switch off the TV before tossing it away. Once you face him, a death stare was already set on you. Your eyebrows scrunched in anger, crossing your arms across your chest.

"What is up with you, Tom? Tell me what's wrong?" You aggressively asked.

“Who were you on Zoom with?”

“I told you! I was on Zoom with my Professor to talk about my grades and-”

“Exactly, and? What did he say? How can you maintain your grades?” And that’s when you realize, the man is being hostile because he’s jealous. Your crossed arms seemed to relax a bit, your shoulders following to slumped. Looking at him funny as you chuckle.

Tom on the other hand, is still annoyed. “What’s so funny?” He grumbled.

That made you laugh even more, “Oh baby, are you jealous?” Gasping for air as you asked your beloved while running your hands through his hair.

“No.”

Snorted, “Really? I think that’s hot.” You run your fingers through his long hair, pushing it back. Tom peered up at you from his lashes.

“I-” Stopping himself to sigh, “I just… Don’t like him.”

“You’ve never met the man.”

“Yeah and therefore, I don’t like him. Don’t you ever realize that sometimes he flirts with you? What kind of a Professor does that to their student? Don’t you find it disgusting?” Tom grimaced in disgust.

You suppress your laugh, you find this whole situation adorable. From being annoyed, to understanding and seeing where his coming from. It warms you that although the way he shows it, was annoying, but when you give yourself a second to think about it, he’s just being adorably protective over you—his young wife.

“Have you ever catch me responding to any of ‘em?” Tom pursed his lips, his eyes darting down to avoid looking at you.

“No.” He admit.

“I’ve always done my online meetings with you in the room, baby. You’ve seen everything, you should’ve trusted me.” You coo’ed, caressing his cheek with the palm of your hands. Tom sighed, his shoulders slumped, his hands reaching to grasp your hips.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just- Sometimes I would think, since your type is older men, he’s definitely older than you, good looking either… You’d leave me for him.” Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment not because of what he said was ever near true, but the way he pointed out how you love older men. You never thought of leaving him, ever, because why would you? You snatched the one and only Tom Cruise for christ sake—have he lost his mind?

“Baby, you hearing yourself? I will never leave you!” You exclaimed, cupping his face now.

“I will never… Ever.. Leave you.” You brought his face closer to yours, forcing him to look at you.

“Never, okay? Besides..” You trailed, your hands slowly went down to his neck. “I have you, the man, the myth, the legend, who saved Hollywood’s ass.. Tom Cruise.” You coo’ed in his ear, your hips gently grinds on his lap.

“Yeah?” His famous smirk slowly appearing.

“Yeah.” You pouted, nodding your head.

“Why is your type older men, anyways?” Tom teased, the hands that were on your hips moves gently to caress you.

“If I tell you, I’m gonna have to kill you.” You may or may not quoted him using his lines from the greatest movie of all time. Tom laughs before he pulls you in for a deep kiss. The kiss turned out to be heated by the second, the way his tongue swipes against your bottom lip asking for entrance. From there on, it turns into some kind of battling for dominance. He couldn’t help but gently capture your bottom lip, seductively pulling it as you kept grinding on his lap.

He released your bottom lip to let out a soft grunt, with his eyes screwed shut as he could feel your soaked thong against his bulge. “You never really answered the question, pretty.” Tom manage to say something, but grunting in each words.

Humming, you stopped grinding your hips to undo his pants. Pulling it down along with his boxers freeing his, now fully, erect cock. A sigh of relief you earned from him, as your eyes darted to stare at him.

“You’re the one who set the bars. I love older men, because of you. And, I’m so lucky that I finally have you, Tommy.” You coo’ed, pecking his lips as you pushed your thong aside, guiding his cock to your hole gently rubbing the tip against your glistening cunt.

“Don’t ever think about that ever again, yeah? I just want to fuck my husband, and that- is you.” You whispered against his lips before you sink yourself down his shaft. Tom’s breath shuddered watching your face contorted into euphoria along releasing the most pornographic moans.

“Mmh… How I love this cock in my pussy, Sir. Only your cock she wants.” Tom grunted listening to you dirty talk in his ears, feeling you softly went up and down on him.

“Don’t you love my pussy, Sir? My tight warm pussy, for your old cock?” Something inside him snapped as he pushed you down against the cushions—earning a loud gasp from you.

“Old cock you say huh?” You smirked.

“Well.. That’s how you perceive yourself, weren’t you?” Tom clicked his tongue while shaking his head from side to side in disbelief.

“Don’t forget that this old cock, had made you cum-” He harshly thrusted his hips, “Made your legs shook-” And another one, “And made you squirted so many times.” He growled.

You smirk, “Yes, Sir. That’s what you do to me.” You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck. Tom grabbed your legs and wrap them around his hips along with throwing his shirt away. He harshly undo your oversized shirt to reveal your perfect body. Already glistening with little sweats anticipating his next move.

Tom harshly snapped his hips thrusting his cock into your cunt, his hands holding onto your tits gripping them so tight but not tight enough where it could hurt you. In fact, you didn’t feel pain from any of this. You enjoy this, you enjoy him going off with your pussy. Loud pornographic moans raining from your lips, as you both stare at each other while his cock drilling in your pussy.

“Mmh yes, keep going Sir. Please.”

“Oh, Sir! Yes, it feels so good.”

“You feel so good.”

You try to boost his ego more by spilling out dirty talks that you think he would love. Oh, he definitely loves it. Listening to you talk dirty to him makes him goes feral even more as he pushed your legs up in the air then push them back resulting you to hug your legs as he pushed himself into you more. Tom grunts feeling the way your cunt puckered around his cock, gladly welcomes him with your warmth as the wetness you produce formed a squelching sound.

“Mmh, are you gonna cum, Sir?” You mewled. Your eyebrows scrunched to form an innocent face as he stares at you death in the eyes. Feeling himself getting closer.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum in me?” Tom moaned. As much as he’d want to bust his nut right there and now, he couldn’t. He wants to prove a point. You gasped in surprise as he harshly pull himself out from your cunt.

“Wha-” You were about to protest but then his 2 fingers enters your hole, flicking and fucking you. “Fuck!” You cursed along releasing a loud moan. By now, you believe the cushions is soaked due to your fluid as his fingers fucks into you.

“You always love my fingers, right?” Tom breathed, as his fingers vigorously fucking you. “Come on baby, I want you to squirt for me.” You moaned.

“F-fuck! Tommy.” You shrieked, he knew the fastest way to get you to squirt for him was using his fingers. And he proved himself right, seconds later you gushed out your fluids out—spraying his abdomen and made a real mess. But, Tom didn’t stop there.

When you were still squirting, he replaced his fingers with his cock. A loud moan escaped from him, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

“This is going to be a long night for you, baby.”

[peacefxlmyko]

The monster's gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here.

Ethan Hunt x daughter!Reader

After secretly following him on a Mission, Ethan's daughter has been dealing with nightmares and he comforts her.

Warnings: violence, gunshot wounds, bleeding, angst & fluff

Notes: first Mission Impossible fanfic from me!! Got his idea randomly and immediately got to writing lol also sorry I haven't written my Requests yet!! Will try to do it soon!! Like always: English isn't my first language so I'm sorry about any grammar or writing mistakes. Enjoy!

Story below the cut ✂️

Being the daughter of an IMF agent surely wasn't the easiest thing in the world. Not only would he often have to leave for missions, but Ethan was also so overprotective. He would rather die himself than let you get hurt.

That being said, you might have followed him in secret on his new mission. He said it would just be a quick and easy mission, but you didn't believe him. Ethan's idea of an easy mission was... interesting to say the least.

You quietly followed him, hiding somewhere outside an empty warehouse. The waiting felt like forever, your heart pounding. Was everything going right? Would he be fine?

Your thoughts were interrupted by gunshots. Shit.

After what felt like an eternity, you saw him walking, no— limping out of the building and holding his arm, blood dripping down.

"Dad!" You screamed and rushed towards him. Ethan was obviously startled and shocked by your sudden appearance. He whispered your name, before collapsing onto the floor.

"No no no no.. please, no!" You mumbled in panic and pressed your hands on the gunshot wound, trying to stop the bleeding somehow. It was so much blood.

By now Ethan was knocked out cold, which was a very bad sign for him. In a panic you ripped off your Belt, putting it around his arm right above the wound and making it as tight as possible, trying to surpress the blood flow.

"Dad.. Dad please, wake up, please!" You panicked and checked his breathing. It was shallow, but there.

You were so focused on Ethan that you barely noticed the sound of car wheels squealing behind you.

"Y/N!"

Benji. Oh god, thank you lord.

"H-he, he got shot, I- I tried to stop the bleeding and- and he's unconcious, I-I-" The shock made you unable to even form a sentence.

Luther and Benji rushed to you both, immediately taking care of Ethan's wound. While Benji was busy wrapping a bandage around your father's arm, Luther was by your side.

"I would be really mad you're here right now but you may have just saved your dad's life, kid." He put his arm around you in a comforting way, your dad's colleagues always had a soft spot for you.

The next moments went by in what felt like a blur. Everything was happening so fast, but at the same time in slow motion.

Ethan was brought into a nearby hospital and was treated there, resting for a few days before finally being released home.

"DAD!" You yelped as you woke up abruptly, drenched in sweat. Ever since that mission nightmares have been haunting you.

You keep seeing the images of your father bleeding out right in front of you and your mind wandered to possibilties of what could have happened. Every thought ending with him dead.

"Sweetheart?"

You flinched as you suddenly heard your father's voice and quickly turned to him. He was standing in the doorway, hair messed up from sleeping and his arm still covered with a bandage.

"Is everything okay?"

He carefully sat down on the edge of your bed and pulled you into his arms.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you-" You sniffled, you hadn't even noticed the tears running down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey, shhh, it's okay.. it's okay.." He whispered, his hand going through your hair in a comforting way.

"I'm alive and I'm alright, okay? Thanks to you. You saved me, sweetheart." Ethan said softly. As he noticed that didn't fully calm you, he carefully took your hand and placed it on his left chest.

"Feel it. My heart is still beating, thanks to you. I'm still here because of you, you hear me? Nothing could ever separate me from you. You wont get rid of your old man so easily, sweetie."

You couldn't help but crack a smile at that. Feeling his heartbeat, having his arms around you and hearing his voice was so comforting. Knowing he was still here was comforting.

"I love you, Dad"

"I love you too, sweetheart. Now, try to go back to sleep, okay? You need some rest. We both do." Ethan pressed a kiss on your forehead after he spoke.

The imagines would surely haunt you for a little more, but having your father right by your side made it all a whole lot easier.

[sluttylittlewaistenthusiast]

CHARLIE BABBITT

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list

@mqverick

⭒ Buick Roadmaster

⭒ Your Woman

[streetsweepershenanigans]

Street Sweeper's Icemav Masterlist

Updated 2/1/2024

Fics are listed in order of most recent to oldest.

Oneshots:

(Posted to AO3):

Wanting for Home- Very whumpy, as with everything, please heed the tags and warnings. Features Mav going through a sexuality crisis with internalized homophobia mixed in due to the time period and his position in the United States Military. Happy ending, though, don't worry. Hurt/Comfort.

Silence Is (Not) A Virtue- Another whumpy one, this time with some past child abuse resulting in selective mutism. Hurt/Comfort.

Third Time's The Charm (Oblivion AU)- A purely self-indulgent Oblivion AU with Top Gun characters. This is a companion piece to In My Dreams I See Us Falling, told from Ice's point of view.

In My Dreams I See Us Falling (A Top Gun Oblivion AU)- The first of my Oblivion AU's. If you have seen and enjoyed Tom Cruise's Oblivion, I highly recremond these.

No Use Crying Over Spilt Milk- A single!parent Maverick fic wherein he is forced to come clean to Ice about having a kid after they've been seeing each other for a while.

Here Lies Iceman's Personal Space- A fluffy domestic fic about Maverick invading Ice's personal space and somehow endearing himself to Ice even more.

Caught In The Headlights- A whumpy hurt/comfort fic featuring parental Icemav and baby Bradley. After Maverick is seriously injured in a car accident, Ice has to contend with the reality that he might be all Bradley has left in the world.

It's (Not) Okay (But It Will Be)- Maverick suffers a life-altering injury during the events of the uranium mission and now he and Ice must learn how to contend with the past and move forward together.

Just Like The Song- Drunk Maverick finds his way to Ice's house in the middle of the night and shenanigans ensue.

Mother Goose Knows Best. - Stranded in the rain after class, Maverick can either walk home or accept a ride from the last person he wants to be stuck in a car with.

The Winner Takes It All (I Don't Wanna Talk)- A sweet, soft, fluffy, domestic one-shot- my first ever Icemav fic. Sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

(Posted to Tumblr exclusively):

Baby Goose's First Swear Word- The story of how Baby Goose learned his first swear word.

One Day (An Icemav Fic)- Iceman and Maverick always find their way back to one another- even decades later.

Lunch Mix Up- Ice and Baby Goose's lunches get mixed up one day.

How Do I Say Goodbye? - Angsty short one-shot featuring Maverick having to come to terms with losing the closest thing he's ever had to a father.

Multichapters:

Caught In Oblivion- Chapters: 4/6- A full-fledged and fleshed-out Oblivion AU with our beloved Top Gun Characters. Very self-indulgent, but you can read it too. 4/6 chapters.

Icemav Imagines (Open for use if you feel inspired by any of them, just tag me so I can read):

Italian Maverick

Maverick vs the smoke detector's dead batteries-

[random-imagines-blog]

Celebrity Masterlist (L-Z)

In an attempt to organize the blog and keep everything in order, masterlists are being made to join together into a masterlist of masterlists to make it easier for those on mobile. Thanks for being patient!

smut is indicated with a ⭐

Lee Pace

Oneshots

To Die For

Imagines

Imagine Lee Pace listening along to the bedtime story you’re reading your kids.

Imagine Lee Pace wanting to talk to you but he keeps being called away to set.

Imagine constantly making fun of Lee Pace’s wig on set.

Imagine going to a waterpark with Lee Pace, and his expression when he first sees you in your bathing suit.

Imagine marrying Lee Pace.

Luke Evans

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine helping Luke Evans pick out his outfit of the day.

Imagine Luke Evans surprising you on Valentines Day with chocolate and candy.

Imagine impulsively inviting Luke Evans to go skinny-dipping with you.

Margot Robbie

Oneshots

Run To You

Imagines

Mark Ruffalo

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine showing Mark Ruffalo your more spontaneous side.

Imagine Mark Ruffalo meeting your parents.

Imagine watching the sunset with Mark Ruffalo.

Michael Fassbender

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine watching old movies with Michael Fassbender.

Imagine Michael Fassbender trying to make you blush from across the room.

Miscellaneous

Oneshots

Calling All Heroes (Avengers Cast)

Animal (Avengers Cast)

Imagines

Imagine the rest of the Avengers cast finding out you’re a self-harmer.

Imagine your co-workers on the Avengers films confronting you about your eating disorder.

Imagine the Marvel cast finding out you’re suicidal.

Nathan Fillion

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine constantly being late to events because Nathan always wants you.

Imagine Nathan Fillion forgetting that it’s your anniversary.

Noel Fielding

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Noel Fielding being captivated at first sight.

Imagine always being able to make Noel Fielding laugh.

Imagine making Noel Fielding’s birthday cake.

Imagine hitting it off with Noel Fielding on The Great British Bake-Off.

Norman Reedus

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Norman Reedus catching sight of you for the first time after the hard break up.

Imagine domestic life with Norman Reedus.

Imagine helping Norman find a good place to hide from Paparazzi.

Imagine Norman Reedus trying to tell you that he loves you but having difficulty.

Orlando Bloom

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Orlando Bloom talking about meeting you on the set of LOTR.

Imagine getting stuck in a tree with Orlando Bloom.

Imagine being at a fair with Orlando Bloom.

Owen Wilson

Oneshots

Flight Connection

Imagines

Patrick Dempsey

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Patrick Dempsey showing up too early for dinner and seeing you in just a towel.

Robert Downey Jr

Oneshots

Ambulances (Teen!Reader!Mentor)

Imagines

Ruby Rose

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Ruby Rose catching you crying.

Imagine blurting out to Ruby Rose that you love her.

Imagine living with Ruby Rose and sharing a bathroom.

Rupert Grint

Oneshots

In the Nightside of Eden

Imagines

Russell Crowe

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine a midnight drive with Russell Crowe.

Ryan Reynolds

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine the moment Ryan Reynolds realizes he wants to marry you.

Imagine Ryan Reynolds taking you to a fair and taking care of you when you get dizzy.

Imagine Ryan Reynolds running into car trouble while taking you on vacation.

Scarlett Johansson

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Scarlett Johansson becoming a motherly figure to you.

Sebastian Stan

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Sebastian Stan taking sign language classes for you.

Imagine Sebastian Stan trying to entice you into joining his photoshoot.

Imagine Sebastian Stan coming to visit you in your small town.

Imagine Sebastian Stan really enjoying spending time with you.

Imagine being sick, and Sebastian Stan constantly checking on you.

Timothee Chalamet

Oneshots

This is the Place

Imagines

Tom Cruise

Oneshots

The Fix

Breathless

Shine

If Ever

Certain Needs

Imagines

Imagine spending Christmas with Tom Cruise.

Imagine Tom Cruise taking care of you when you’re sick.

Imagine your family being formed around Top Gun.

Imagine being comforted by Tom Cruise.

Imagine falling in love with Tom Cruise.

Imagine having a child with Tom Cruise.

Imagine getting pregnant with Tom Cruise’s child.

Imagine Tom Cruise acting as the ‘dancer’ at your Bachelorette Party.

Imagine Tom Cruise taking care of you when you’re scared of getting your heart broken.

Imagine Tom Cruise surprising you with a new bag.

Imagine staying at a winter resort with Tom Cruise.

Imagine spending Valentine’s Day with Tom Cruise.

Imagine being caught with Tom Cruise in public.

Imagine going on a walk with Tom Cruise.

Tom Hiddleston

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine an eccentric director putting you and Tom into a house to test chemistry.

Imagine constantly teasing Tom in interviews.

Imagine working with Tom Hiddleston on a horror film.

Imagine Tom Hiddleston approaching you at a bookstore.

Imagine walking in the rain, and Tom Hiddleston spots you and saves you from the cold with his umbrella.

Tom Holland

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being silly at a con with your coworker Tom Holland.

Tom Sturridge

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Tom Sturridge having a crush on you.

Imagine having a late breakfast with Tom Sturridge.

Imagine being Tom Sturridge’s wife and finding out you’re pregnant.

Walton Goggins

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine meeting Walton Goggins on set, and falling in love.

Zachary Quinto

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine hiring a sky-writer for Zachary Quinto’s birthday.

Imagine making Zachary Quinto laugh during an interview.

[jeniffercheck]

i am begging for a oneshot (or more) that touches on the shivlina silly mirror thing 👁️👁️ give me all the whump pls!!

thank u sm for the prompt! i had a leftover argument set during kill list that was very fun to play around with, i've placed it in the Sepsis universe, but parts 1 and 2 are not required readings. follows all canon up to 4x05, including tomshiv being on-again/off-again. silly mirror (and more) included<3

read here or on ao3

words: 3.4k

“What were you and Tom talking about last night?”

Shiv’s hovering over her suitcase in her slate and granite pseudo-cabin, Karolina sitting on the couch in the corner of the room. It’s late now, the Norwegian forest outside slowly dimming as the night draws near. They’re flying back to the States in the morning, and they’ll accept the deal from Matsson and get rid of the cruise lines and the fascists and Shiv is going to be the fucking American CEO and they can finally just put Dad to rest and all this other bullshit with him. It’s simple.

At least, it should be. Because what fucking business does Karolina have hanging around Tom all weekend anyway?

“Me and Tom?” Karolina asks. She doesn’t look up from the laptop in front of her, her furious typing barely faltering as she speaks.

“At the party,” Shiv says. “You were standing next to each other for an awfully long time.”

The typing finally slows, and Shiv looks at her, unreadable per usual.

“Oh,” Karolina says. “Nothing much. Just, making fun of Swedish dance music. And—I mean then, Tom tried to lecture me on why Swedish House Mafia is actually one of the greater electronic music artists of this generation, which, sure I guess, but I don’t think he even understood which generation he was talking about—”

“Karolina, this is serious.”

“I’m being serious, Shiv,” Karolina says, eyes focused back on the laptop. “I don’t ever want to hear about Swedish House Mafia again.”

The typing picks up and Shiv turns back to her suitcase, rearranging the contents for the fifth time. It shouldn’t make her so upset, but it does. Much like a crossed line or a broken boundary, it’s out of her control. Her pull on Tom is getting looser every day, she can feel as much, and her pull with her bothers is getting looser every day, and Matsson sends fucking blood bricks to his ex-girlfriend, so really, her entire livelihood is hanging in the balance by a group of men all held together with a bunch of loose threads and screws, and she’s fucking asking Karolina the simplest question in the world, and the only answer she can give Shiv is Swedish House Mafia.

Shiv turns around.

“So, if I called Tom right now and asked him what you talked about last night, he’d just say Swedish dance music?”

Karolina looks at her then, calculating eyes not leaving Shiv as she closes her laptop. She’s weighing the pros and cons, thinking through the risks and consequences of telling Shiv the truth, and Shiv’s had it. If she has to force Karolina’s hand, then so be it.

“Forget it,” Shiv says. “I’m calling.”

“Shiv—” Karolina says, standing up. “Hold on.”

“Remember something else?” She waits for Karolina to speak, feigning patience they both know she doesn’t have, and it doesn’t take Karolina long to speak up.

“We got into an argument,” Karolina admits.

“About?”

Karolina crosses her arms and looks away.

“You,” she mumbles.

Perfect. That’s perfect.

“Anything specific, or just which pair of pants you think my ass looks better in?” Shiv asks, feeling satisfied as Karolina rolls her eyes. Shiv’s getting that answer.

“He asked why we’ve been spending so much time together,” Karolina says, which expeditiously turns Shiv’s minor jealousy into major fury, because this was not on her agenda for the trip.

“And what the fuck did you tell him?”

“Nothing,” Karolina says. “I—I just—”

“You just what?”

“I just—fuck—I threatened him,” Karolina says. “Okay? I threatened him.”

“Oh, you threatened him,” Shiv says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Would you like to share what you threatened him with, Karolina?”

“No,” Karolina says. “I don’t.”

Karolina has her world-renowned poker face on, and Shiv can only imagine what it is that Karolina used against him. She probably has a war supply of paper trails against every person in the company, let alone Tom. And it’s not that Shiv wants to protect him, but Karolina’s a different force when it comes to Shiv, and she isn’t sure that Tom would ever stand a fighting chance against Karolina.

“You know, I don’t need you fighting battles for me,” Shiv says. “I’m perfectly capable of fighting them on my own.”

“Yeah, that’s why he’s still your husband and not your ex-husband,” Karolina says.

So, Karolina’s mad. Fine. Shiv can be mad too.

“I’ll divorce him when I want to divorce him,” Shiv says.

“Because that’s what you said the last time, right?”

It’s fair. Shiv came crawling back, divorce papers dangling like a bird in her teeth and Karolina believed her. Wanted her. Shiv believed it too, she did, and then Tom took it back. He gave her another chance, and she’d made a commitment, right?

“I didn’t say anything,” Shiv says. “I said we were separating, that’s not a fucking divorce.”

“Seriously?” Karolina says. “That’s how we’re doing this? Fucking semantics?”

“If you have a problem with my relationship with Tom, then fucking say it to me,” Shiv says. “I don’t need you running around and screwing shit up.”

“I’m screwing shit up?” Karolina asks. “He’s fucking you, Shiv. He’s fucking you right to the finish line, like he always has been, but I’m the one who’s screwing shit up.”

“Yeah, Karolina,” Shiv says, crossing her arms. “You are.”

Karolina laughs hollowly and she picks up her laptop as if she’s ready to make her exit.

“Sorry for trying to defend you, Shiv,” she says, walking away from the couch. “I won’t fucking do it again.”

“It’s not your place,” Shiv says, and Karolina freezes, expression now angered.

“Please, Shiv, explain to me what my place is.”

Shiv feeds into the anger as well, and somewhere in the back of her mind she begs herself to stop, to just let it go and sleep it off and remember that Karolina cares about her, that Karolina wants what’s best for her, that finally having someone irrevocably in her corner doesn’t mean that she has to immediately try and push them out, but Shiv’s never been adept at accepting care. Not without mutually assured destruction.

“To just shut the fuck up and let me handle my shit, Karolina,” Shiv says.

“One foot out Tom’s door and one foot in mine,” Karolina says. “You’re really handling it, huh?”

“This is ridiculous,” Shiv mutters. “Don’t you—fucking have a job to be begging for right now?”

“If it’s working under you?” Karolina asks, stepping forward. “Fuck no.”

Shiv feels the words like the wind biting at her ankles; the tantalizing chill still finding its way to sink into her skin despite it being something she’d come dressed prepared for. The silence is thick, Karolina’s heavy breath waiting for Shiv to bite back.

“Did you forget my dad just died, or are you still getting off on all the crisis management?”

“That’s not funny, Shiv.”

“No?” Shiv asks. “So, just to be clear—you did, or you didn’t start writing the press release on his death before they’d even gotten the defibrillators out? I mean, fuck—you’ve probably had it written for months, haven’t you? What, since the stroke? Just biding your time until you could swoop in and play PR doctor?”

“What the hell is your problem?” Karolina asks, her hands now gripping the laptop tightly. “I’m sorry your father owned a Fortune 500, Shiv. I’ll make sure to let him know we need time to stabilize the stock market first the next fucking time he—”

Karolina cuts herself off and Shiv swoops forward with a taunting gaze.

“What, croaks?” Shiv asks. “You’d love to do it all again, huh? You fucking love it. Exploiting death, it’s what you’re good at, right?”

“Fuck you,” Karolina says, her eyes filling with tears. Shiv can’t stop it when the sudden display of emotion sets her off.

“Jesus, tears?” she scoffs. “We should get a mirror in here for how fucking stupid you look.”

She doesn’t realize what she’s said until after it’s come out, the words leaving a horrible after-taste in her mouth. Karolina scoffs so quietly Shiv is almost certain she’d made it up, not hearing much between the pounding of her heart filling her ears.

“What?” Karolina asks, her small voice laced with disappointment and disbelief, and if Shiv thought the hole in her heart couldn’t get any bigger, well, she was wrong.

Shiv opens her mouth to speak, but there’s nothing for her to say.

Karolina takes a tentative step forward, arms still crossed and eyes still wet, and she speaks, clearly shaken.

“I’m sorry that I interfered with Tom, and I’m sorry that I’m in a position where I have to treat your father’s death like it’s just business, truly, Siobhan, I am, but—” Karolina pauses, her words hanging, and Shiv’s almost grateful when she doesn’t complete the thought. She heads for the door, opening it slightly before stopping briefly, “I’m going to go look stupid in my own fucking room.”

—

Shiv sits long past the sun-setting and the last-night festivities going quiet and the other cabin’s lights going off one by one, replaying the argument in her head. She pokes and prods at it, wondering at which point it went sour, whether it had been the whole time. Karolina started it. She brought up the divorce and she baited Shiv. It was her.

Yet somehow, Shiv still feels like she’s done something irreparable.

When she can’t take it anymore, she braves the woods with just her phone flashlight and the skin of her teeth, and she goes to Karolina’s room. If Shiv were counting, she’d note that it only took Karolina twenty seconds to open the door, and she’s definitely been way less mad at Shiv and taken way longer.

“Hey,” Shiv says.

“Hey,” Karolina repeats, with no hint of her current mental state.

They stare silently for a second until Shiv hears a bristling in trees, and she remembers she’s outside in the wilderness.

“Uh, you wanna let me in before Norwegian Jason fucking hops out of the bushes?”

Karolina rolls her eyes but opens the door wider, allowing Shiv entry. Shiv immediately shivers, in disbelief at how cold it is in her suite.

“You know we’re not in charge of expensing utilities, right?” Shiv says. “You can turn the heat up without getting fired.”

“You mean I won’t have to beg for my job?” Karolina asks.

Shiv fucked up. She knows she did. She can see it in the tensing of Karolina’s shoulders, hear it in the curtness of her words. It’s not unfamiliar territory though, and that’s the only thing keeping her going. She’s done this before. She can grovel.

“You’re not going to lose your job, Karolina.”

“Good, good,” Karolina says. “Did Matsson tell you he has a death he needs you to exploit? I’ve been told I’m good at that.”

Shiv looks down in embarrassment.

“That was…” she trails off, biting her tongue. What else can she say? It always comes to this. Things are good until they’re not. Shiv is happy until she’s not. She treats people right until she doesn’t.

“Low, Shiv,” Karolina says. “Even for you.”

“Yeah,” Shiv says. “Digging into old wounds—whatever. Not cool, I know.”

The silence around them is suffocating. Shiv wishes there were some sort of card she could present, some pharmacy junk-drawer filler that says, “Sorry for being a cunt. Will do it again!” and maybe another one that says, “My dad just died and all I got you was this card!” and then she wouldn’t have to explain it, she’d just be able to give Karolina something concrete, something that explains she doesn’t know how to be a person right now and please don’t hold that against her.

But Karolina gives her the chance to try.

“Can you—can you just tell me what happened?” Karolina asks.

“What happened is my dad just died and Matsson is fucking insane, and you, you just—” Shiv has to turn away. She doesn’t want to rile herself up again, doesn’t want to resort to lashing out.

“What, Shiv?” Karolina asks. “I dislike how Tom treats you? I want you to be happy?”

“You’re meddling, Karolina,” Shiv says, turning back around.

“Shiv, you included me,” Karolina says. “You approached me, and you said you were getting a divorce and you told me it could all work out. I’m sorry if I crossed a line, but some of those lines belong to me now.”

“Tom is not—”

“Including Tom,” she says. “The second you invited me back into your life, that included Tom.”

Shiv can’t argue with that. She made Karolina a liability, she told Karolina that Tom wouldn’t be around for much longer, and she told Karolina that she wanted her.

“Okay,” Shiv says. “It’s just—this deal and the fucking funeral, it’s—it’s a lot, Karolina, alright? And a fucking, property war over me is not helping. It’s not.”

Karolina’s facade cracks just a little, her eyes softening and frown deepening.

‘You’re right, Shiv, I’m sorry,” she says. “But Tom’s just—he’s a fucking asshole, and I can’t just stand there and watch him gloat while the rest of our jobs are on the chopping block, I can’t.”

“You’re not going to be on the kill list,” Shiv says. She made sure of that.

“You don’t know that, Shiv—”

“I said, you’re not going to be on the fucking list,” Shiv repeats, voice hoarse yet strong all the same.

Karolina freezes at the interruption. She huffs, something like a challenge in her eyes and Shiv narrows hers in response.

“You’re not on the list,” Shiv repeats again, softer. “So, whatever superiority Tom thinks he has over you right now, he doesn’t. Including me.”

Karolina stares at Shiv, a host of emotions swimming in her eyes, but the one that sticks is a quiet despondence that makes Shiv regret ever having scolded Karolina at all.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Karolina says, turning away.

She sits down on the bed, avoiding Shiv’s gaze, the tell-tale sign of her tears returning when she brings a taught sleeve to the corner of her eye. A pang of guilt rolls through Shiv’s gut at the words she said earlier. It’s a disgusting little feat, learning how to weaponize the very things that were once used against you. Matsson had said it himself not even twenty-four hours earlier.

Like your dad.

Shiv sits down next to Karolina, not waiting for an invitation, and she mulls in the silence, unsure of what she could say to fix this. If what she could say would even be enough. That she doesn’t want everything she touches to be shrouded in venomous generational warfare. That this isn’t fun for her.

Shiv stares out the window ahead of them, barely able to make out the trees in the darkness. If Shiv Roy falls in a forest, does she make a sound? Or does she let herself go quietly, without a fight? It’s been so long since her voice actually mattered, she’s forgotten that it still affects people. People she cares about.

“If I apologize, will it even mean anything?” she asks.

“It always means something,” Karolina says. “Every time.”

Every time should feel like a dig, but it doesn’t. It’s comforting in some fucked up way, that admits the struggle and the chaos and cruelty, Karolina hears her. That she listens, and fights for Shiv’s honor even when Shiv doesn’t want her to. That she cares, too.

“Everything is so fucked right now,” Shiv says. “I can’t be the person you need me to be.”

Karolina’s eyes turn sad suddenly.

“I don’t need you to be anything,” Karolina says. “I’m not trying to hold you to some impossible standard, Shiv, I—I just want you to be honest with me every once in a while.”

“Honesty,” Shiv laughs, though it quickly settles, and she can’t stop her eyes from pooling with tears and her throat from constricting tightly. Karolina squeezes Shiv’s hand, always her lifeline when nobody else seems to be there. Shiv looks away, voice taught. “I can’t lose Tom right now. Not both of them.”

Karolina sighs, the sound smooth yet resolved. It hurts, thinking Shiv’s caused endless disappointment inside this woman, but she reminds herself that there has to be something good between them, for disappointment to exist at all.

“Okay,” Karolina says.

“If this changes things—”

“Shiv,” Karolina interrupts. “It’s not me or him, okay? You’re not going to chase me off that easily.”

“What if me and Tom—you know, what if we never end?”

“I don’t know,” Karolina says. “But for right now, I know that I still want you, that hasn’t changed.”

Shiv nods, running out of worries to throw out in the air. It’s fucking pathetic, but everything is pathetic right now. She’s almost content to wallow, just this once, until Karolina steers the conversation in a direction Shiv was hoping they could just both forget about, a skeleton of a conversation she hoped they’d shove under the bed and never speak about again.

“Shiv—what you said—about getting a mirror—”

It was a nasty thing to say at all, but especially to Karolina. Karolina, who trusts Shiv. Who’s shown Shiv vulnerability, and who’s trusted Shiv with that vulnerability. She’s disgusted with herself for having abused that privilege.

“It was cruel and fucked up,” Shiv says. “You’re allowed to cry, of course you are.”

“I know I’m allowed to cry, Shiv,” Karolina says. “Do you know that you’re allowed to cry?”

Shiv’s tears pool at the question, and even still, she can feel herself holding back. It’s a reaction she can’t control, holding it all back. Some days it’s like the only emotion she has is the absence of it; like the only thing she can do is swallow herself whole, scale down her tears and turn them into something more useful like anger or spite. She learned early on that if they see her cry, they’ll know. They’ll know just how fucking stupid she is.

She clears her throat, and Karolina shifts closer to her, wrapping an arm around Shiv’s waist.

“When we were younger, and we were upset, Dad—he would take us in front of this mirror and he would make us look at ourselves as we cried,” Shiv says. “He, uh, called it the Silly Mirror.”

Karolina says nothing, but Shiv doesn’t know what she would expect her to say, anyway. The context only adds an extra heaviness to the statement, and it’s a hard pill to swallow that she’d said it at all. It’s one thing to use her dad’s words against herself, her brothers even, but to use them against Karolina? It’s a vitriol Shiv had hoped wasn’t in her. Karolina called her rotten once, and Shiv considers that it could still be true. She’s lived in this body for too long now, of course, it would’ve spoiled somewhere along the way. It’s possible she’d been rotten from conception, that she spent too long in her mom’s belly and ruined her chances before she even knew what self-sabotage was. The evidence is there; the last born before Caroline ran. It was Shiv. Rotten Shiv.

Two built a company. Three a crowd.

“Shiv—” Karolina starts, but Shiv doesn’t want to hear it. Not yet.

“I thought it was my mom,” Shiv continues. “The mirror—I thought it was her. And when Dad died—I mean, when Ken told me, I thought it was her, too. I knew it wasn’t, but I just—I hoped it was, you know?”

Karolina nods, her hand now rubbing sympathetically across Shiv’s back.

“He has to be what I remember, because if I’m wrong about him, then who else am I wrong about?”

If she cries for a monster, is she a monster too?

“You’re not him,” Karolina says. “A result, maybe, or—or a product, but you’re not him.”

A product sounds much too clinical a word for what’s supposed to be daughter, but it’s a nice thought, that it’s nurture over nature and she’s not inherently evil for acting the only way she knows how.

“I don’t deserve you,” Shiv says.

Karolina just sighs and rests her head on Shiv’s shoulders, and it feels something like a truce. Shiv wraps her own arm around Karolina’s waist, and knows this connection is something she often takes for granted. Karolina links their free hands together in response.

“I wish you could see that you do.”

[bluebirdsboi]

Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist | Last Updated: 6/12/23

Key

Fluff = 🥰 | Angst = 😢 | Smut = 🥵 | Hurt Comfort = 🩹 Platonic = 🤝 Headcanons = 📝 | ABC Headcanons = 👩‍🏫 | Oneshot = 📘 | Series = 📚 AU = 🌎 | Songfic = 🎵 Male Reader = 💙 | Gender Neutral Reader = 💜 | Female x Female = 💖 Story on hold = ✋ | Character on hold = 🔒

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw (Miles Teller) 

Coming soon...

Jake “Hangman” Seresin (Glen Powell)

Coming soon...

Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia (Danny Ramirez)

Coming soon...

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell (Tom Cruise)

Coming soon...

Robert “Bob” Floyd (Lewis Pullman)

Coming soon...

[nineinchnailpolish]

Masterlist/Requests

I’m still going to be added more to this, so just keep an eye out!!

One-Shots

Top Gun (any character)

Caught Red-Handed Part 1 & Part 2

Iceman’s Younger Sibling x Maverick (GN Reader)

Mission Impossible (any character)

Ethan Hunt x GN Reader (Y/N Dunn)

Rock of Ages (only Stacee Jaxx)

Stacee x Gn Reader Smut

Willow (the movie and only Madmartigan)

Madmartigan x GN Reader

Tom Cruise

Tom Cruise x Fan Reader -Requested

Keanu Reeves and Movies

Pedro Pascal and Movies

Headcannons (none so far)

Series (none so far)

What i will write:

Smut

Fluff

Angst

Oneshots/Headcanons/Series

Mental health issues

Trans/Gay/Lgbtqia+

What i will not write:

Suicide

R@pe/SA

Alpha/Omega/Beta

Inc3st

Pregnancy/Breeding K*nk

[mqverick]

buick roadmaster | ₊˚⊹ᰔ

mature themes, +18

rough smut included, consider yourselves warned

“Because I’m going deeper and deeper

Harder and harder”

─── ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ───

“I don’t want to be demanding here, but… could you say maybe ten — twelve words to me before we get to the hotel?” you asked Charlie, half frustrated, half smiling at him, trying not to look too pissed off. It had almost been an hour ever since he’d begun driving, not even bothering to turn the radio on. Just dead silence.

Charlie glanced over at you, then returned his attention to the street, driving quietly with opaque eyes. You sighed, hand coming up to your forehead as you rubbed the skin between your eyebrows in despair, not knowing what to do.

“…Consider it foreplay,” you tried again, this time more playfully, hoping to get him in the feels.

Instead of saying anything, though, he just smirked discreetly, secretly loving being busted by you. “Glad we decided to spend the weekend together, gives you two whole days to bitch at me,” he eventually replied. As a response, you scooted over and knelt his thigh, crossing your arms as you looked forward with narrowed eyes. “What, you’re not talking to me now?”

God, the nerve of that man.

“If you’re so damn worried that you can’t look like you’re not holding back a giant shit, call your dumb service. I took Friday off because I wanted to spend three nice days with my loving boyfriend, who apparently is the biggest, pompous jerk I’ve ever met.”

Charlie chuckled sarcastically, still not giving the slightest care of looking at you, his gaze firmly locked on the road ahead of you. “So that’s what’s on my mind, huh? The service?”

“I sure hope it’s not another woman,” you replied with the same snarky tone, your head now leaned against the widow as you also refused to look at him. You could feel the radiation of his proud, teasing smirk burning you, nevertheless.

“Maybe it’s three other women.”

Oh, he just loved keeping the tension going, didn’t he? Hadn’t you had enough patience and experience of his almost childish behavior after dating (and baring) him for a whole year, you would’ve grabbed the steering wheel from him and crash the car right into the nearest tree. Sometimes, you wondered how you put up with him, with how full of himself he was.

You saw his motor running and huffed. How convenient, you thought, urging him to pick up.

“Maybe they’re calling you right now.” With flared nostrils, you punched up the speed dial on the car phone, hearing the electronic beeps as Charlie continued ignoring you. His nerves were at the surface, fingers gripping unintentionally hard onto the steering wheel as he pushed his sunglasses over the bridge of his nose, scratching the spot there for just a second.

“Babbitt,” he called.

“Two calls from a Mr. Bateman. You want the number?” the voice operator spoke and you the way Charlie closed his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you as you slowly turned your body around so that you could see him better, getting worried.

Quietly into silence, “No.”

“Oh, okay. Then there’s, uh — oh shit. There’s this, um, Mr. Mooney, says he’s your father’s lawyer in Chicago… your father died, sir.”

Charlie clicked off the line, interrupting the call. Driving with one hand, the other one sat on his lap, looking for something to fiddle with, doing eighty. He was shaken, that you could tell, even though he was putting up the biggest effort not to let it show. All the previous anger you felt about him was long gone, taken over by compassion.

“Oh, Charlie. Are you all right?” you asked, your fingertips reaching for the side of his face, but he shook them away, strangely cold and distant. You just stared at him, unable to read him as he pulled off the road, trying to turn. No reply to your question, struggling to keep up the façade.

“Sorry about the weekend, hon,” he mumbled lowly, turning the car around. Was he serious? Did he really think all you cared about was Palm Springs? You opted to maintain your calm.

“The weekend? Charlie…?”

You found it weird, how little emotion he showed. Charlie always tempted to do things like that, completely leave you out of his thoughts, pretend that nothing had ever bothered you. It annoyed you, sure, but mostly, it caused you sadness. You wanted to be there for him, let him know that he could count on you whenever he was feeling bad, if only you knew what was going on in that mind of his. He was really good at hiding his reactions and feelings from everyone as well.

“Didn’t mean to ruin our trip, I’ll make it up to you, though, I promise,” he announced weakly. “Look, we… uh, we hated each other. Mom died when I was two and it’s been me and him ever since.”

You reached for his face again, this time more gently. Charlie accepted your touch, leaning into it for comfort as he closed his eyes just for a short moment. That was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him — that he’d ever let you seen him.

“Did he not treat you well?” you asked, stroking his hair carefully, smoothing it back.

“Beat me up. Emotionally, I mean. Nothing I did was ever good enough… I dealt with it, eventually. Learnt to ignore and let go. Hated him.”

To you, it explained a lot about why Charlie had been behaving like that. It was how he’d grown up, having to shield himself from the others. It hurt you that you couldn’t seem to be helpful for him, hurt you when he abruptly pulled away from your touch away, swallowing back his feelings.

“We’ve been dating for a year. When were you planning to tell me all this? Let me be there for you, Charlie, I’m sick and tired of always having to guess what’s on your head.” But he was back to being silent and acting as if he couldn’t hear you.

Putting up his guard again, not allowing himself to show you how he really felt. You hated him.

“I’m talking to you,” you said in a demanding tone. “Stop fucking playing a game with me. I’m your fucking girlfriend, I should know how to comfort you for Christ’s sake, but you pull away all the damn time! It’s always one step forward and a whole airplane flight back with us. Quit pushing me away every time I try to understand you, it’s exhausting.”

“Not one of these again,” Charlie whispered under his breath as he sighed too loudly for your liking.

“What? Doesn’t it concern you that you had to say ‘again’ in that sentence? You exclude me from everything that’s going on in your life, maybe you’d like to do something about it, just for a change?” you begged sarcastically.

“Fine, you want to talk? Let’s talk. How was your day, honey?” Charlie questioned with indifference, not bothering at the slightest to hide how much he felt like he itched to piss you off.

“I don’t want to talk, I want to—”

“No, you wanted to talk, let’s talk. C’mon, tell me, how have you been doing? Had a nice day? How was it, tell me everything about it, come on.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you mouthed, unbuckling yourself free from your seat. “Stop the car, I want to leave.” But once again, he pretended like he hadn’t heard anything from what you’d said.

“Not going anywhere,” you were simply given.

“No, you know what? One whole year and you haven’t once told me how you feel about me. It’s as though we’ve been stuck on the third date stage, going out for dinner and then fucking. That’s all we do. I’m not asking you to explain everything to me, just let me know that you feel comfortable confiding in me, trusting me. What if I wanted to meet your parents one day? When would you have told me that your mother had died and that you and your father didn’t speak? Relationships are about care for each other.”

“I care about you, you know that.”

You looked over at him with unsure eyes. You’d doubted Charlie’s faith in you before and maybe that was the problem with your relationship. You loved him, loved him dearly — had been in love with him ever since you began dating him. You knew he was capable of showing you a caring side, which was rare, but still very existing.

You believed you loved him enough for the two of you. None, however, had ever expressed that to each other. Spent days, weeks, months, patiently waited for him to make the move, do something romantic or even just spit it out awkwardly while watching a movie or cuddling in bed. But no, Charlie’s head was more stubborn than a donkey and if there was one thing he was good at, it was constantly shielding himself and drawing you away. As if he hated being in a relationship.

“Do I?”

And it killed him. Killed him how incapable he was of reassuring you that for him, it was pretty much over since the day he met you. How he’d bottled up all the things he wanted to say to you, how important you were to him, his only family.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered lowly enough for you to unintentionally miss it.

“If you’re not ready for a relationship, Charlie, I won’t force you to be in one. And for fuck’s sake stop the fucking car already!” But he wasn’t stopping, wasn’t anywhere near stopping; instead only sprinted faster into the empty road. The wind was blowing through his hair, throwing it on top of his forehead as he pushed it aside, annoyed.

You hair was probably a mess too, for all you cared. You were furious with him, with how little he’d let you know him, how you’d almost never been a part of his life. If only you knew.

“You don’t get to go, I need you,” he yelled, voice loud enough for the first time during the car ride for you to actually hear. He was mad too and you didn’t even know why — no, but honestly — he had no right. No right to even have the smallest, tiniest bit of irritation into his body, when he was the only one responsible for all of this.

“You don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you gritted through your teeth, glaring holes into his head. “Now stop the fucking car or I’ll hit the brakes and we’ll both fly the fuck forward into the glass.”

“All right, stop you want?” Charlie asked, abruptly taking a turn that almost sent you out of the window, holding onto your stomach and the seatbelt that you’d unfastened earlier. “Then stop you’ll fucking get.” He was being insane with it, driving ridiculously fast, you were certain he was planning to end your lives once and for all.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you screamed, regretting the moment you’d decided it would be sane and safe to not be wearing a seatbelt while on a car with a man who barely knew how to contain his anger tantrums.

“You wanted to stop, so we’re stopping the car. I’m stopping the fucking car!” he yelled back, slapping the steering wheel so loudly and with so much force that he accidentally winced in pain.

You were holding on for dear life, clutching onto the fabric of the seats and holding your breath down your throat, when he finally stopped with a turn that you were sure was a death sentence.

You didn’t even know where you were, where he’d driven. Your brain was permanently off after that reckless driving of him, making it clearer for you that you needed to leave him or at least threaten him about ending the relationship, giving him a break. There was no way he’d ever be clear enough to think straight, though, especially after your argument, especially after his dad’s death.

Man, he was really getting one slap after another.

“You’re not capable of handling a relationship, then you don’t fucking get to be in one! Go fuck yourself, Charlie!” you shouted at him as your hand went to clasp around the door’s handle, furious at him, but before you could even realize what was happening, Charlie had yanked you back by your shirt, sending you flying into his lap.

You yelped and tried to free yourself from his grasp, but he was holding you so tightly on him that you couldn’t move besides wiggle your legs. He looked both troubled and pissed, unsurprisingly hard to read. His eyes were cold and sharp, sparking as they glowered at you.

He wanted to say something. You could tell by the way his lips subconsciously moved as if he had the words right on the tip of his tongue, but were being choked up by him. He was weak with words, always had been. He thought of them as an action that you couldn’t take back, something like a pearl in your head that you’d be able to roll around as you reminisce. He hated words.

The second time you tried to pull away from him, he kissed you. Attached his lips forcefully into yours, causing you to gasp and completely stop moving. It took you a little to comprehend the situation, but once the warm feeling of his mouth moving against yours kicked in, you reciprocated the kiss with the same urge and compulsion.

“I need you,” he murmured into your ear as he rubbed his nose against the soft flesh of your cheek, wrapping his hands around you so tightly that he wouldn’t have to worry about you trying to make an escape again. With each hand firmly positioned on the sides of his neck, you pulled him down on top of you, laying uncomfortably on top of the seats. You didn’t even care if your back was hurt by hitting the transmission stick a little too hard, or how he’d accidentally pulled a few hairs from a strand that was covering your face.

You lifted your leg up as he crashed his lips into yours again, extending over the top of the console and wrapping it around his waist, arousal already pooling in your underwear. Charlie had his way of kissing you; knew exactly how long it took you to get weak for him, to shut your mind off and beg him for more. He loved using it against you.

Loved how it turned you on the same amount it did for him. His left hand travelled in your hair, pulling it from the ends. His right was around your waist, just under the rim of your shirt, gripping your hip. His tongue peaked out of his mouth, exploring yours before pressing an open-mouthed kiss against your lips, detaching abruptly and creating a thin string of saliva between the two of you. His breath was hard to catch and so was yours, both still incredibly mad at one another. He stared at you blankly for a second, his hard-on growing against his pants as he looked over at your swollen, wet lips.

“You fucking dick,” you snarled under your breath as you angled your knee outward until it was tight on the dashboard. You urgently unbuttoned your jeans, then pulled him back toward you, kissing him passionately as your left hand searched for his, leading it downwards and eventually pressing it firmly onto your mound. Charlie groaned into your mouth, cock twitching painfully against the hard material of his trousers. He let his fingers feel down your body, stroking your clothed leg as his palm curved over your butt and down the back of your thigh. His touch was your cause of death.

“Scoot a little,” he instructed you, struggling to pull down your jeans, accidentally hitting the top of his head against the roof of the car. You tried to suppress the automatic laughter, simply choking out a chuckle, which Charlie hushed away the very moment he ground his covered erection on your pulsing core, soaked through your panties.

Your moan came out ridiculously loud, shadowing the pleased hum that fell from his lips due to the feel of your warmth and wetness, almost convincing himself that he was just a second away from losing it when he hadn’t even gotten to touch you yet. You took the chance to knee him in the crotch, livid at the fact that he was smirking at how ready you were for him, feeling all proud of himself, knowing that he was the only one to ever offer you that feeling — that kind of pleasure.

Charlie looked at you with lustful, blown pupils. You were pretty sure you were as much of a mess as he was, hair combed, clothes half off, red neck and ears, swollen lips and glassy eyes. You grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, the only thing covering your chest know being a black lacy bra. You swore you felt an orgasm creep up inside of you as the pad of his thumb made contact with your clit through the underwear, biting so hard down on your lip in order to not scream his name from the top of your lungs, hips subconsciously thrusting against his hand. You were embarrassed, on one side, but on the other, you couldn’t care less.

After all that was done, you were out.

Out of the car and out of his life, you’d decided.

“Fucking touch me already,” you demanded, but he responded negatively to your tone, pinning you down on the seat so tightly that it caused you to let out a tiny wince. With one hand, Charlie held your wrists down and over your head, while the other finally shoved your underwear out of the way. For a contemplative minute, he almost forgot that he was supposed to be mad at you.

How much he loved having you like this.

But he wasn’t going to say anything just yet. Maybe another time, in another case, where he wouldn’t utter it out during sex talk, where he was stronger than that, put his pride last instead of first. He didn’t want to break up with you, ever. To him, you were the one. It was hard to express, complex to explain — bless his heavy heart strings that only allowed him to pick all the wrong talks, places and times.

“Y’feel so good,” he murmured into your ear as he entered a finger into you, carefully enough not to hurt you with the rings he had on. “You fucking kill me whenever I see you. You’re too much, I can’t handle you, I just can’t.” The word came out of his mouth like honey and you had to dig your nails into his back, over his shirt, to stop yourself from cumming undone right then and there.

His finger curled inside your walls, following all the small bends and curves of the part of your body that needed him the most, sluggishly applying pressure and picking up place.

Your juices are dripping down your thighs, thing that helped him to easily add another finger in you. The mixture of his low groans, your choked moans and the slapping sounds of his hand rawing you was probably the biggest turn-on you’d ever experienced. All that in the middle of an empty street, in public view. All one had to do was peak over the windows of his car.

“Keep doing that, I’m so fucking close,” you purred into Charlie’s lips as you kissed him, giving permission to your hands to travel around the waistband of his trousers and undo the zipper.

“Yeah?”

“I want to fuck you.”

“Maybe another night,” Charlie replied with sureness as he suddenly dragged his fingers out of you and rubbing them against the skin of his bottom lip. You both wanted to punch the life out of him and not say anything at all, just enjoy the view of him licking your precum off his hand.

The image was so insanely sexy that you could orgasm just by looking at him and nothing else.

Charlie finally threw his black shirt off somewhere into the backseats, his trousers coming up next as he stood on top of you with just his boxers, which were pretty much a whole other level of mess; leaking with his own precum. He’d never looked so pretty before, so blown away.

It was visible to anyone with a single brain cell that he wanted to fuck you in a way of letting you know that you had no place to leave him, that he needed you more than anyone and more than ever. You opted not to comment on it, instead, leaving him be. Charlie loved angry sex, anyway.

Seemed that you were right after all — the twelve words he’d spoken had been the best foreplay.

“Charlie, I need you,” you pleaded beautifully, so desperately that he discarded his gray boxers immediately, taking his throbbing cock into his hand as he grazed the tip over your entrance, torturing you just a little. You cried out, wanting more, tired of his games. His heart pounded, close to beating right out of his rib cage.

Fuck it, he decided, as both of his hands grabbed your left hand and placed your open palm on his chest, right over his heart, and let it linger there. For the first time that night, you could finally understand what was going on behind his eyes. You smiled as he let go of your hands, running his fingers through your hair and gently guiding your face closer to his, eventually leaning himself in to rest his forehead on yours.

When he thrusted for the first time, you were already chasing after your high (and you were pretty sure the same thing could be applied to him as well.) The grunt he breathed was insane, sending you to heaven and back as you moaned along, realising that you didn’t want to repress yourself any longer. If he were to get cocky and insufferable, then so be it. You’d been used to it.

Your fingers flew into his hair, pulling at it and encouraging him to go deeper and harder. Charlie happily obliged, getting the message instantly as he whispered your name through every groan, beads of tension gripping one body on top of the other. Both his mind and vision were blurry as his thrusts frantically took off to a steady pace, fucking you so deeply, so roughly that he was sure it was hurting you. Why weren’t you stopping him? Why weren’t you telling him to slow down?

“Harder,” you hoarsed, and it nearly rocked his world. Charlie was quick to accomplish your request, filling you up with his dick so nicely as he fucked you through the pleasant moist of your combined bodily juices. He couldn’t comprehend how you weren’t scared of him damaging your body; instead taking lazy glances at you just to figure out that you were loving it, embracing him just right as you clenched so tightly against his dick, squeezing him gut-wrenchingly hard.

“Fuck — ‘m not going to last any longer,” he confessed while pressing his eyes shut, pursing his lips and trying not to fall apart on you yet.

“Just a little bit, Charlie,” you croaked, digging wounds into the muscles of his back with your nails, letting the roughness of his grinds and thrusts vibrate through your entire system, get you pathetically weak under his weight.

“‘M going to cum.” And with that, he gripped onto the sides of your outer thighs as he held still while still deep inside you, releasing hot jets of cum into you as you clamped down on his cock, following with your own earth shattering orgasm. You felt so full, so vulnerable and so fulfilled, all at the same time and it was overpowering. With an exhausted, loud groan, Charlie collapsed on top of you, squishing you as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing small pecks down on the curve of your shoulder as he tried to catch both his breath and untamable heartbeat.

“Charlie, I…”

“I just want to hear that it’s not over,” he interrupted you, still a bit breathless as you gave him a puzzled look. “I mean… I’m scared it’s over. Everything you said was right about me. I can’t offer you much, I’m terrible with relationships and I’m very fucking terrified of trusting someone. I’m not really good at showing my feelings.”

“There are many things you’re not good at.”

“I know. I know and I’m scared of getting my heart broken, because I genuinely believe I won’t be able to last one second without you. I’m in love with you,” Charlie finally confessed, trembling as he looked you dead in the eyes, hoping to catch the tiniest hint of response from them.

Your jaw hung slightly agape at his words, never in a million years expecting to hear him drop those words out of his mouth. You were on the verge of tearing up, grabbing him by the sides of his face as you pulled him down to kiss him sweetly on the lips, lingering there longer than needed. Charlie sighed in relief, chuckling with pure joy as he heard the following sentence reassuringly fall from your lips; “I love you too.”

FIN.

again, this is for my favourite person on earth @honeymvnt i hope you’ll like this ml 🫶🏼🎀

[malavera]

(18+) I'll show you how I am yours — Tom Cruise

summary: you're being emotional because it's that time of the month, Tom had to assure you for the millionth times that he's not going anywhere. To seal the deal just to convince you, he shows you how he's devoted to you and only you.

warnings: lil bit of fluff & angst, age gap (25/59), mature content, allusions to period sex, daddykink.

tagging: @tomsf18 @helloitstsyu @moondustfairies @deanscroissant @katherineswritingsblog @elenavampire21 @gypsymoon548 @love2write2626

We all know each month, a woman does not stay sane the same. The pre-menstrual mood swings would comes in various ways. We are all familiar with the Obsessive thoughts, easily irritated to feeling guilty and most importantly very self-critical. Your beloved has dealt with all kinds of moods and symptoms that you projects every month. But, he never complains. In fact, he lets you be however your mood wants you to be. When you said you wanted to be alone, although you made it clear after you snapped at him that you wanted him to leave you be—he would. But, it’s not like what you fear. He would close the door, lean against the wall besides it and wait for at least 5-10 minutes or more, for you to cool down—then he’d walk back in either with a cup of tea or bringing up your favorite sweets.

He’s different from the last two guys you dated. Because when it’s your time of the month, they’d never take you serious. They’d never wanted to take care of you, all they would do is complain on why couldn't you control it, why do you choose to snap at him, why are you so angry all the time and always ends up with a fight. That’s why you’re always insecure and afraid when the time has come, how would your new beloved react to you getting through all of these crazy hormones.

Sighing, you tighten your grip around his torso, snuggling your cheeks more to his chest. A negative thought has occurred, being a woman comes with so many fears towards man. What if it’s all just a façade?

“Tommy,”

“Yes, darling?”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Tom scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, a small smile displayed on his face, turning his attention from the TV to look down at you.

“What do you mean? Of course you are beautiful, baby.” He replied with a kiss on your forehead.

“Why did you chose me?”

“Don’t you find me irritating sometimes?”

“Do you ever find me irritating?”

“Is there anything that I should change?”

“Out of all people, why did you choose me?”

"Would you ever leave me if you find anything that doesn't suits you?"

“Do you really love me?”

In all honesty, listening to all of your insecure questions due to your obsessive thoughts, aches his heart. Tom concludes that you have abandonment issues. Which breaks his heart not because he doesn't want you around, but it's because how easily you belittle yourself sometimes when you became his partner. He's glad that he found you, but he's not a jerk, he wished that you would've loved yourself more than you love anybody else.

"I'm sorry, do you think I'm annoying for talking too much?"

"I'm sorry if I would snap at you in any time of day later today, I wouldn't mean to. It's the hormones you know?"

Tom sighs with a warm smile on his face, he gestured for you to sat up and lean against the pillows, his arm placed behind your shoulders.

"Baby, listen to me... You don't have anything to be sorry for, okay? I understand. No, you could never irritate me. No, I would never find you irritating. No, there isn't a thing I want you to change, you're perfect in your own way." He gently spoke, his knuckles moving a strand of your hair out of your face.

"I chose you, because I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You're a good woman, you have a good heart. Yes, you may be tough at some time or place and you'd stand on your ground when it comes to your principles, but I respect that. I love you." Your lips tremble, the tears forming in your eyes almost blurred your vision as you are moved listening to the wonderful speech he said about you.

"You would never leave me, right Tommy?" You muttered.

"I would never. Because you're mine, and let me show you how I am yours."

And with that, his soft lips connected with yours—pulling you to sit across his lap gently without hurting you as your body is fragile during your period. His big and calloused hands caressing your sides, feeling the soft fabric of your baby pink tank top sending you shivers down your spine as the actions gives your brain ideas on what could those hands do. Just by thinking about it, sends tingle through your pussy as you start grounding your ass on his growing tent.

"Tommy, I think we should stop." You spoke in between the kiss.

"Hmm, why?" His lips captured your bottom lips, seductively tugging on them, as his eyes watches the way it bounces back once he lets go.

"I want you, but I'm on my period. It'll be a mess, besides, don't you find it disgusting?" Your voice sounded so soft and delicate, it almost came out as a squeak and he finds it adorable.

"I told you, I'm going to show you how I am yours, right? Then let me show you, baby." He muttered against your neck before he connected his lips to your sensitive flesh as you throw your head back rolling your eyes closed, your mouth fell agape letting out a moan.

His hands went to play with your clothed breasts before he tore the fabric off of your body, earning a gasp from you. He switched from your neck to snatch one of your nipples with his mouth, giving a light suck as the other he played with. You could never understand the anatomy of a woman's body, on why when men played with our breasts and giving them attention—an electricity will spark down to our pussy. Or is it just you?

You couldn't help but grind your hips against his bulge, circling and grounding to let him know that you really need him as soon as possible. But, he's taken his sweet time on getting you all worked up. He wants to prep you, before he goes on action.

"Tommy, please.."

"That's not my name, what's my name?" You whimpered, with a slap to your ass another one escaped.

"Need I remind you, baby?"

"Daddy, please. I need you, I need you to fuck me, now please." You pleaded.

"See, that wasn't so bad right?" He breathed. He switched both of you as you are now laying against the bed with him on top of you. He spread your legs as if its your wings, wide. He stands on his knees, palming his tent, looking at you with his jaw clenched.

“Now, I don’t care how messy it’s gonna get cause daddy’s gonna fuck you so good your pussy’s going to only want no one but me.”

[dallysnecklace]

The Gang in MLM Relationships

Doing this bc PRIDE and this movie is so fucking queercoded

Dallas

Dallas is bisexual!

He met you at Bucks one night, he smelt your cologne as you were walking past and was OBSESSED.

Y’all played pool, and you won $50 bucks along with a wild night

When you guys started dating he was very careful about being in public, but also loved to be sneaky

His hand in your back pocket is something that happens at all times

He loves playing with your hair or necklaces

This man will go SO feral if you don’t wear a shirt

Y’all share clothes A LOT

Buck hit on you once and that ended in him getting a black eye

He gives you his skull ring

He introduces you to gang, and if any teasing happens at all, he will yell at them and so will Darry

He thinks your SUPER HOT and is not afraid to show you off by fucking slapping your ass in public 😭😭

He’s VERY forward with how he feels about you, and is very pleased that he is one of the few people who can truly make you blush

All in all this man thinks your the most attractive person ever and NEEDS to be with you at all times

Ponyboy

Pony is gay!

He met you at school

You signed up for peer tutoring, and you were tutoring other kids in your grade

Your a soc

You met Pony through tutoring and immediately clicked

You guys share a lot of interests, reading, writing, cooking, watching films

You often will read to him while he lays between your legs with his head on your chest

This guy is so in love with you

Darry and Soda love you, and think of you as another brother

Dallas yells at you after he figured out you were dating

He just wanted to make sure you were treating Pony right

You most definitely are

Sodapop

Soda thought he was straight untill one day he saw you pull into the DX with a black ford, raybans sunglasses, and a clean white wifebeater tucked into some slacks

He literally drooled at the mouth

He ended up sweet talking you and asking you to hang out later that night

Y’all are both cocky attractive mfs, so your constantly fighting over who’s hotter

He always says you

He’s very wary about being seen with you in public. He’s not fully out and feels scared being so.

He loves to do your hair for you

You eventually start working at the DX with him and he is SO happy about this

Whenever girls come and flirt with him or you, y’all will make eye contact and start bursting out laughing

Y’all are very cute together and literally a power couple

Johnny

Johnny is pan with a preference for guys

Ponyboy set yall up on a blind date at the dingo

Ever since then you guys have been attached at the hip

Johnny’s love language is acts of service so he’s constantly doing things for you

You try to tell him he doesn’t need to do everything but he insists

He’s very loving, and very caring, and is always looking out for you

If you call him pretty he will blush all different kinds of red

You were the first guy he ever was with so you had to kinda help him to become comfortable dating a guy

He felt bad but you were very understanding

He loves cuddles, and needs to be little spoon

The gang loves you

You let Johnny stay over at your place often because of his situation

Your out to your parents, and your parents absolutely LOVE Johnny

He thinks you are so beautiful, and will constantly let you know

You call him John :)

He calls you darling

You are INCREDIBLY cute together

Darry

Darry is bi with a preference for women

Darry met you at work, he saw you without your shirt on lifting heavy roofs and was VERY attracted

You guys knew eachother but he didn’t look at you like that untill that day

You guys started to hang out often, and you would come to over to meet the gang a lot

Once you guys started dating, you became the parents for the gang

Which you don’t mind

You love cooking especially

Darry loves when you give him back rubs or shoulder rubs, it’s very relaxing

Darry is very stressed and feels like a burden a lot

He’s actually pretty insecure

He really only opens up to you and you always are there to comfort him no matter what

He cares for you so much, and always wants to make sure your safe

Expect a call every day and notes left in your clothes once he cleans them for you

He’s such a romantic

Loves to cook dinner dates for y’all

He’s literally the perfect bf

Steve

Steve is questioning

He’s not the one to really be in a relationship (imo)

But you guys are kinda fiends with benefits

You guys met a drag race and hit it off

There’s a lot of chemistry which Steve hasn’t experienced with a man

He’s really attached to you, and wants to hang out all the time

He thinks your very pretty

Every time you guys hang out he always makes sure your happy and feeling safe

He eventually wants to be in a committed relationship with you

He’s scared to let you know but he does eventually and you’re super happy

Your such a couple and super cute together

Two-bit

Idk this man just gives me the ultimate straight vibes I am so sorry 😭😭

BUT

i do hc him as a trans male, FTM and he’s very proud of his chest surgery scars, he loves not wearing a shirt!

The reason why he always wears his sideburns is bc he’s very proud of that facial hair he’s been able to grow :)

[theloveoftoms]

Early Morning - Tom Cruise x Reader One shot

A/N: I haven't wrote one for Tom in a little while, enjoy babes! I also didn't proof read this, so enjoy my raw material.  xxx - m 

Laying on your side in bed, you could hear your boyfriend Tom shuffle to his feet and over to the kitchen. You're shared, three bedroom apartment, was spacious at times, but on mornings like these when Tom had to get ready for an early morning flight, it indeed was not. 

You heard the closet doors open and shut, and then the bathroom light flicked on, and Tom swiftly shut the door - still trying not to wake you. You listened, barely awake, to the sound of the shower. You could hear the water splashing against the subway tile, and you could hear a sound of pleasure escape from Tom’s mouth. The new shower the two of you had installed last month, sure did feel lovely in the morning. 

You thought about going back to sleep, but you figured that since you were up, you could make some coffee and surprise your boyfriend with a glass once he finished in the shower. So, you did just that. 

You rose to your feet, threw on your tan ugg slippers and ventured into the kitchen. Passing by the hall mirror, you smiled at your reflection of you in your sleep shorts and one of Tom’s oversized tees. You truly were happy in life. You had a great job, a great boyfriend, and overall a great life. This is all you had ever wanted, and it made you very satisfied that you lived up to your younger self’s hopes of the future. 

In the kitchen, you popped a k-pod in the keurig, and watched the heavenly coffee fill up the black coffee mug. After the machine was finished its cycle, you shuffled back over to the bedroom and set the mug on Tom’s night stand. Just as you did so, you heard the shower faucet turn off. You turned on the bedroom lamp and took a set on Tom’s side of the bed, which was just adjacent to the bathroom. 

The door peeled back, revealing a warm cloud of steam. Your boyfriend Tom, was standing there with a white towel drawn around his waist. His hair was wet from the shower, and there were beads of water on his well-sculpted chest. 

You stood to your feet with a grin on your face, “Morning handsome,” you said, putting your arms around Tom’s torso. Tom smiled into you as he planted a kiss on your cheek. “Sorry that I woke you,” he said, looking helplessly into your eyes. 

You stretched up on your tippy toes and planted a kiss on Tom’s lips. “I was glad you did, I wanted to see you before your trip.” 

Today, tom was flying to Milan to work on a two week filming shoot. Tom had been away like this before, for both longer and shorter durations. You missed him dearly when he was gone, but you looked forward to his flower deliveries and nightly face time calls. 

You moved your hands onto Tom’s chest, tracing your finger along the lines of his hard earned muscles. As you were doing so, Tom brought his lips down to yours, and placed his warm hands on the small of your back. There, in your shared bedroom, the two of you stood, kissing the love of your life. 

[its-fun-to-be-a-vampire]

Wow look what I finally started

[random-imagines-blog]

The Fix {Tom Cruise x Reader One Shot}

Requested by: @theloveoftoms​ Wordcount: 2214 Summary: Eye contact with a stranger on the street leads to a conversation over books.

It all started off with eye contact. You hadn’t meant to do it. Normally you would have your sunglasses on over your face, and avoid it with the world. Because once you made it, people felt like they could come up and talk to you. It’s not that you hated people you just - tended to attract the bad sort of person. The stalkers, the creeps, the cat-callers. The ones that felt like just looking at them was invitation enough to invite them to be a part of your day, even if you gave no other indication. Oh y/n, what have you gotten yourself into? Green eyes, not ones that you saw every day. That’s what you were getting into. Falling into. Blue ones were common, brown ones were common but green? It was hard to look away.

And apparently the owner of these green eyes felt the same way about you. Because even after you looked away, you could feel him staring still. You kept on going about your business. Walking down the street. You were headed east. He was headed west but on the opposite side. Brown hair peeking out from under a ball-cap. Sun shining off of very white teeth. He was attractive enough but you weren’t going to go crossing the street for a pretty face.

You stopped in front of the shop that you were looking for. One final look over your shoulder showed that this man, whoever he was, had a bit of a startled look on his face. Now that had you confused as you turned your head to look back at the door, opening it. Would it really be so startling that you were stepping foot into a book store? It shouldn’t be.

The place was cozy. The shelves were like a maze, but that’s what you liked about it. There were private little corners that you could slip into, ones with chairs and school-like desks. Piles of used books that someone had picked up and set down. Oh, the smell of the old pages. The smell of adventure.

The bell rang over head and an older woman with her hair in a long braid looked over at you from the counter. You avoided eye contact, though you did gaze along at the books that were on display behind her, and gave her a smile. You didn’t want to be rude. But she looked the type to draw you into a conversation about Hemingway for hours. She smiled back and then buried herself in a book. You let out a sigh in relief and started to stroll around, finding your favorite genre, near the back of the store. The bell rang again. You could faintly hear it through your headphones, your favorite music playing. You didn’t look up. You were running your fingers over the spines, trying to remember which of these books that you had at home already. Your to be read pile was already big enough. You really shouldn’t be giving into the temptation to buy more.

So you missed the sound of the gasp. And the woman dropping her book. And then scrambling to pick it up. You missed the woman asking for an autograph. And then a picture. And then offering a discount on anything within her used book store.

All that you knew was that there was a book here by your favorite author that you were not only missing, but was SIGNED. The price set at a hefty hundred dollars. The author had won a few awards but was hardly a King, a Rowling or a Gaiman. Carpe Diem, right? You tucked it under your arm and kept on browsing. Seemed worth it. Oh, was that another author that you like?

You didn’t hear that someone was talking to you. You were reading over the titles, over the authors, head bobbing to the music, too much into your own world. It took that someone putting their hand on the shelf - thank god it wasn’t on you - to get your attention. You looked over to see the same man from outside, standing there, two books already tucked under his own arm.

You took out one of your earbuds and felt yourself fall prey to those green eyes again. You could still faintly hear the music coming out of one of the pods. And now he could too. But your voice would overpower it. “Yes?”

He had this surprised, and slightly confused look on his face again. “Hey uhh-” He looked at the books that were in front of you. Then his eyes trailed down to the one that you were holding. “I was looking for something to read on my next flight. The woman up front recommended these but you look like you might know something better.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. The books that he was holding were best-sellers, the stuff that book stores usually kept right by the door to get people inside. Top 10 stuff. Not really what you were looking at that moment. You brought your eyes back up to his face and - there was something faintly familiar about it. Maybe you had seen him around before. That had to be it. What else could it be?

“Depends on what you’re looking for,” You said. “Do you read this genre often?” You pointed towards the big sign on the top of the shelf which named off your favorite genre. He looked up and read it for what was clearly the first time. He shook his head. “Okay, so you’re a beginner, that’s cool too. I’ll be happy to help.”

If he was flirting, he was going about it the right way. Books were a way to your heart. Better than cheesy pick up lines. Better than going out and getting drinks and shouting over loud music. Plus, you had to admit, he was rather handsome. So you were waiting for that ball to drop. Any minute now, he was going to say something obscene about your ass or - what sort of lewd comments could be made in a book store?

I want to crack your spine and open your folds?

Gross.

You had gotten that before.

“So mister -” You said, waiting for him to tell you his name. He had that lost puppy look again. The confused one. Maybe english wasn’t his first language? So you were going to recommend something lighter, but then he finally said.

“Tom. I’m Tom.”

“Hey Tom. This author is really good, and it’s not too heavy of a book if you’re looking to start,” You said, picking out one by your favorite author, pulling it out with your index finger. “Oh, I’m y/n by the way.”

Tom took the offered book. He turned it around to read the back. Though it did appear like he was spending more time looking at you than he did at the synopsis. You finally had to ask because this familiarity was driving you nuts.

“Look, this is going to sound crazy but - I know you from somewhere. I swear I do,” You said, taking in the eyes, the jawline, the bit of stubble. “Did we - go to school together or are you someone’s brother?”

Now it was your turn to look surprised as he laughed. Actually laughed. Rude?

“Okay, I didn’t think it was that funny of a question,” You said, rolling your eyes, now not caring if he was some childhood friend’s brother or maybe some guy who used to work at the Subway or something.

“I’m an actor,” He said, stopping his laugh once he saw your annoyed reaction. “You probably saw me in something.”

“This is LA. Everyone and their mother is an actor,” You said, chuckling. “Alright, I’ll bite - but I tend not to watch big Blockbusters. What have you been in?”

“Are you actually - wow. This is refreshing,” He said, taking off his ball cap and ran his fingers through his hair. Brown, and shiny - definitely movie star quality hair. You had to give him that much. “I don’t get to introduce myself very often. I’m Tom Cruise.”

If he was expecting a reaction, he wasn’t getting one. You had to think for a moment before you finally snapped your fingers. “Legend!” You said, naming off an old movie. “Really? That was you? Wow. Okay, I kinda see it. And - weren’t you in that godawful The Mummy remake?”

“Tell me how you really feel,” He said, eyebrows furrowed.

“The girl who played The Mummy was really pretty. She stole the show,” You said, since you took it that he was asking for your opinion. “But Legend was really good! You worked with Tim Curry, that must have been rad.”

“Yeah, it was pretty cool,” He said, laughing. “To be honest, I thought you recognized me and that’s why you were staring at me.”

“I wasn’t staring. And even if I had been, do you usually follow people when they catch you out?”

“No, not usually,” He admitted. He looked around to see if anyone was looking.Apart from the woman working the counter, the place was almost empty. “You just - looked special. And I really do need some new books. I have to go abroad for filming next week. It’s going to be a very long flight.”

You looked special? You were caught on that. And even more by the fact that he was reaching past you to pull out another by the author that you had recommended. “This one looks good, have you read it?” He asked. You hadn’t even realized your mouth had opened up, but you closed it now, and nodded.

“It’s - pretty good. That’s the first one in a trilogy,” You said, snapping back to it. “There’s the second one there. But it looks like they don’t have the third. You should find it pretty easily on Amazon.”

“Great, thanks,” He said, taking the second one once you had pointed it out. He was getting quite the pile there. “So - you read a lot then, y/n?”

A movie star knew your name. If only you knew more about him, you might have been more flattered. But you were still so stopped on that special comment. It didn’t sound like a line. It sounded - nice. Even if he was no Brendan Fraser. But who was?

“Yeah, when I can. It fills the time. We aren’t all busy movie stars,” You teased.

“What do you do then?” He asked, flipping through one of those books, though his eyes didn’t look at it in the slightest. They were focused on you, you noticed. Well, he was cute enough. He seemed like somewhat of a gentleman. So you decided that you would give him an answer.

“-so it’s not as exciting as what you’ve got going on,” You said, after letting him know a little bit about your job, but kept it vague, simply because you had to be cautious in this day and age.

“It doesn’t sound too bad,” He complimented. “If you enjoy it, then it can’t be bad.”

“Yeah, that’s how I like to think too,” You said, nodding. “Unfortunately though, I do have to go, I only have a half hour for lunch and I’ve gone through most of it already.”

“Oh,” He frowned, closing the book and putting it on top of the others. “Well, I guess it was... wait,” He said, stopping himself. “Do you want to go for dinner after you’re done work? I know a place where we won’t be bothered.”

“That’s rather presumptuous of you,” You said, looking him over. “Alright, maybe I will, maybe I won’t - what’s the place? I get off work in - five hours.”

He gave you the name of the restaurant. It was one that you knew of. It was a laid back place, not somewhere that a movie star was likely to be hanging out, but you would follow it up with, “I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll be thinking about it,” He added on, making you chuckle despite yourself. He really was likeable. He had some charm. And he was being entirely inappropriate. Maybe a little full of himself that you didn’t know his name but really, The Mummy was bad and Legend was so thirty plus years ago.

You said goodbye. He said see you later. He ended up going ahead of you and he did buy those books that you recommended. That was a good touch, Mr. Cruise. A real nice touch. You bought your own, the whole pleasure of finding a signed copy was somewhat lackluster compared to the fact that you had a potential date.

But before you would go anywhere - you had a surprising amount of googling to do.

[hellfirehaley]

WIP Game

I was tagged by the beautiful darling @bobbiewritesstuff 💕🤩

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. I have deemed that this isn’t just for writing either. Sketch titles? Comics? DnD campaigns? If you have an unfinished project, it counts!!

Strange Love: an Eddie fic about Eddie befriending and falling for a girl who seems like a normal girl on the outside but there's so much more to her than meets the eye. The story of learning to trust again and the feeling of a first love. Friends to lovers story; slow burn.

As You Wish: A Oneshot about Eddie seeing Princess Bride for the first time with his significant other and how it becomes his absolute favorite thing

Highway To The Danger Zone: a Steve oneshot about what happens when your boyfriend Steve Harrington's Tom Cruise obsession hit a whole other level: Top Gun Level.

Untitled Fic: I'm tossing around the idea of a Witch!Reader x Eddie fanfic. An AU where its 1990 and Eddie lives but still has a brandished reputation from the events of 1986. He's still branded a cult leader, Satan worshipper and a freak but what happens when the town freak falls in love with the head of a coven of powerful witches and has a secret connection with one of our core members?

tagging @sunflowerharrington @madaboutmunson2 @hawkinshighdropout @realeddiemunsonstandup