#but then how would we know its elvis?? good question the answer is make it more elvis

[formula-fun]

Have u seen the redbull elvis suits? Idk if they are wearing that to the race or if its just a promo but literally wtf is that lol suddenly the ferrari blob circle thing seems nice......

I have 3 possible explanations for this because im trying to make any kind of sense of it. 1) max was so jealous of charles' monaco racesuit they made him his own white and red one and then chose a justification after the fact 2) red bull marketing is predicting a red bull/ferrari podium and want them all to look SO cute with their matching outfits 3) by choosing red and white ferrari has obviously invoked some old gods and a few spirits of drivers past to get that shitbox on the top of the board, and red bull is now fighting for favor from the same group of old gods and spirits just to ruin ferrari's weekend

honestly tho the color choice is so random and the design is so bad. why isnt it blue? why doesnt it match the car? why didn't they use the 23 elvis impersonators in the paddock as a focus group? they needed a focus group. if it didnt say elvis on it in 72pt font i wouldnt have made the connection. it is neither red bull nor is it elvis. it is simply ugly

[presleyhearted]

Yours Truly - Chapter 3: Hold My Hand

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 1.8k

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. High above the ground, fear of heights, unsteady infrastructure.

|chapter index |prev | chapter 4

--

NOVA

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

My eyes dart from the structure before us and to him. The structure in question is a narrow, wooden bridge that is held together by a thin rope. There is around a dozen horizontal wooden slabs that make up the bridge, which emits concern as there are gaps in between - it is incomplete and clearly hanging by a thread. 

A hundred feet above ground. 

I desperately shake my head, "Nope. Definitely not. "

"Tell me why," He urges, with a casual shrug. 

"You have got to be kidding me. Elvis, look at it!" I gesture with both my hands towards the bridge, in pure disbelief at his calm demeanour. 

His eyes briefly flicker to the bridge, "I am looking." 

I firmly cross my arms across my chest, "Well, what do you see?"

"A bridge, honey. A bridge." His tone was laced with undeniable amusement, his lips curled in that infamous smirk. When I gasped in disbelief, he returns his gaze back to me. 

"One foot on that thing and we'll be saying hello to the ground below!" I exclaimed, desperately searching for an inkling of sense in the man before me. 

"Ah, that's a good rhyme." 

Elvis turns his back to me and inches closer to the edge of the cliff, I feel my heart hammer against my chest, the veins of fear wrapping around me. 

"What are yo-"

"Hello ground below!" He cups his hands around his mouth as he dramatically yells. He walks back to me, in which I arch an eyebrow at him. 

"We say our hello now, then we don't have to say it later." He chuckles. 

"You are unbelievable." 

"A lot of ladies have said that to me," Elvis smirks, tilting his head to the side. 

It does not look like any sense of seriousness will arrive in his mind anytime soon. For the past five minutes we have been debating back and forth about crossing the bridge. And yet, in that duration of time - progress has been nonexistent. The only fact that stands right now is that there is no other way of getting to the other side of this forest, unless we use the bridge. I know that this is a dream, but just because I am dreaming does not change how I view this situation as being completely irrational. There is always the option to turn back, and go someplace else - the safe option, the stable one, the one that I can be certain of. 

With that in mind, I turn around determined to distance myself from his ridiculous idea. 

"Have fun with that breaking bridge. I am going back, " I tightly smile. 

I don't get very far though, as I feel a hand wrap around my right arm. 

"Don't. Please." His tone of voice made my body pause. For the first time since we have arrived at this choice, his voice is void of playfulness. 

I slowly remove his hand from my arm and turn to face him. 

"Okay," Elvis says softly, "I admit the bridge ain't pretty. But please trust me?"

I sigh, not quite giving in, "I-"

"If you don't trust me. . . trust the dream." His lips curl into a smile, examining my features for any signs of agreeing with his side. 

I hate to admit it, but he does have a point. My initial reaction to the situation is how I would normally react to it in real life. I have trained my brain to chose between flight or fight mode for every possible encountered situation, to the point that I forgot for a split second that this is not real. It can't be. This is a world that my subconscious somehow created. No matter the vague answers Elvis gave me earlier on the train - that could all be a product of my imagination. So, going forward with this, no matter its craziness - it can't be terrible, can't it?

It's a dream. But why does he not directly agree with me that it is?

He continues on, snapping me out of my trail of thoughts, "You yourself told me that this is all a dream. Right? So whatever happens, you have nothing to worry about." 

I take a deep breath, "Okay. Fine." 

He extends his hand out to me with a victorious grin on his face, "Alright. Darlin', take my hand." 

I grab his hand without a second thought, as that power of anxiety slowly seeping back into me. It is a little odd, I feel like - to still feel that web of fear encapsulate me even in this dream world. I always believed that dreams were brief, and it brought out the opposite version of ourselves. That we had no time to think about our actions because it all just happens. No thoughts or feelings. Just actions. 

Then why is that the enclosing fear in my chest is so heavy and prominent?

Elvis' back turns to me, as he takes a few steps ahead of me. My grip on his hand tightens as we take the first step onto the bridge. I try to use my other hand to hold onto the rope of the bridge, despite the appearance of it representing anything but strength. Elvis took slow and steady steps, his hold of my hand never loosened - it was warm and inviting. I shake my head to regain my focus on what was ahead. 

In the corner of my peripheral vision, I see a hint of the ground below - reinforcing how high up we are. Elvis must've heard the deep breath I drew in, as he turns around, "You okay, honey?" He asks softly, azure eyes fixated on me. 

His intense gaze made me quickly nod my head with a small smile, "Yeah. Just oh gosh. . . we are so high up." I reply, bitting my bottom lip. 

"Almost there." 

Before we knew it, well more so I - we were only around four steps away from reaching the other side. The entire time I held my breath and I exhaled out deeply. But throughout it all, Elvis never let go of my hand and consistently checked up on me. His playfulness gradually returned back the way it was, with him attempting to make jokes which did manage to get a laugh or two out of me. 

"If this was a movie, I would burst into song right about now. " He laughs, shaking his head. 

I chuckle at this, "Really? Nah, you are bluffing." 

"Am not, dear." 

"In the middle of you walking across an unstable bridge? I don't think so." I strongly responded, even though I have concrete evidence of my claims. I knew that he did more singing in movies than acting, which he despised - but I have no idea how much singing actually took up the movies he was in. I never was a huge Elvis Presley fan. I have heard of him, of course, he was basically imprinted on all of American culture. I have heard a few of his songs from time to time when they played any of old, vintage songs on the radio. I know he did movies, but only recently found out about that when I watched the Elvis (2022) movie that was released this year. 

"Oh hell, you'd be surprised." He shook his head, chuckling, "I'd be doing the most random shit in a scene and my character would suddenly be handed a guitar and break out into song." 

"Yikes."

"Yep."

With one final step, we were finally on the other side of the bridge. We kept walking until we were in a great distance from the cliff edge. Elvis slowly lets go off my hand, and I instantly feel the cold wind meet it - a stark contrast from the warmth of his hand. 

I sighed in disbelief that we in fact did not fall, "Oh my gosh. . . we actually did it? You psychopathic, impulsive guy did not fail us. "

Elvis furrowed his eyebrows with that grin on his lips, as he looks mock-offended at me, "Nova, you sure know how to wound a man with your words." 

I roll my eyes at his dramatics, "You cannot blame me from my apprehensiveness." 

He mutters under his breath, as if he does intend me to hear it, "I never can." 

I keep reminding myself that we are at least 100 feet above ground, and look at the bridge that we just crossed. A bridge that really does look like it's holding onto its last breath, just like how I was a few seconds ago. The low bustling of the leaves from the trees of the forest alerted my ears, as a wash of relief and my previous fears left my body. I was looking around, looking at every corner - I just can't believe it. 

"Stop spinning or you'll get dizzy, woman." He warns, quickly placing his hands on my shoulders. 

There is that feeling that replaced fear. The fear and anxieties I previously had was like veins that tightly wrapped around my body, never letting me catch my breath. It plagued my mind with constant worry. But now, at the other end of it all - there is a light settling feeling in my chest. I closed my eyes, and concentrated on the feeling of the wind against my skin and the low hum of the birds - it all represented tranquility - all of which were blocked from me by my fear. 

"I. . . we . . .  crossed that! I just." Articulate words fail to leave my mouth, as I invite this feeling of glee. 

I felt this overwhelming sense of utter disbelief, what I just did is not Nova. I let out a loud laugh, an uncontrollable one. I cannot stop myself. I just can't. 

I opened my eyes and Elvis is staring at me. His blue eyes, still with that intensity and that never-ending amusement. 

"Now, how's that for fears Nova?" He smirks with his arms cross across his chest, his head tilted at me.

next chapter

[asshlyyyy]

Caught in a Trap Pt. 2 ♥ (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Description: After being saved from Elvis, something kindles between the both of them. They go ahead and explore what it is. This story will contain some mentioned moments from Part 1, and this part does indeed contain smut.

Author's Note: I just want to say first that, this is my first time writing smut in years. So, apologies if it isn’t up to your standard. That being said, Minors do not interact with this post. I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be reading this type of thing. If you do interact I will know and I will block you. I only tagged people whos age were on their account.

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

Warnings: Minors do not interact, 18+ only, Smut, Fingering, Intercourse, swearing, abusive relationship mentioned. I haven’t written smut in years so... I’m sorry if its bad.

Word Count: 3.8k

Requests are opened!

“So where are you staying now then?” Your mother asked through the phone. You twirled the cord around your finger.

“I’m staying with Elvis at Graceland,” you answered her question.

“Oh? How did that happen?” She then asked. She never knew you knew Elvis on a personal level. Then again, she didn't know much when Leon took you away from your family.

“Well, Leon was friends with Elvis. And well… Leon never really let me go anywhere alone or be myself... so… I met Elvis when he hung out with him.” You explained to her.

“Ohh, okay I see now. That makes sense. He noticed then? What was happening with you and Leon? I still think he outta be thrown in prision.” She pointed out. You let out a chuckle and nodded in agreement.

“Yes, he did notice... and he did something. Also, momma, you know damn well they won't do anything. Sexual assault is brushed to the side and forgotten about.” You pointed out to her. You heard a click and you looked up towards the door and saw Elvis walk in. You sent him a smile, which he returned.

"Still, I can't belive it." You should tell your mom was shaking her head. "I wish you had told us..."

"I wish I could've also, I'm just so thankful Elvis noticed." You said to her. Elvis walked over to you and placed a soft kiss on your free cheek.

"Hey, darlin'," Elvis said quietly.

"Hi Elvis," you said quietly back. He then pulled away and walked over to the closet.

“You know, he actually asked me to invite you guys over for dinner. You and dad... even Anna. The whole family.” You brought up to her.

"Now you know I would love to, and Anna would also. She has grown a liking towards that Elvis boy. I would have to speak to your father though about a day that would work." She explained. You chuckled as she mentioned your sister liking Elvis.

"How about Friday? I know dad usually works till six, you guys could come here around seven?" You suggested as Elvis walked back out. He put on more comfortable clothing, but he still looked quite attractive.

"Yeah, that should work. Can you call tomorrow? We can go over the final details?" She then asked.

"Of course! Yeah, I can call around the same time?" You asked as Elvis sat down next to you. You sent him a smile.

"Yes yes, that works for me. I should let you go, you're probably dying to be with Elvis." She teased you lightly.

"I-" you blushed gently at her words, "mooom,"

"I'm kidding," she laughed on the other end, "mostly."

"Well, now I'm leaving because I'm embarrassed. I love you." You said to her.

"I love you too sweetie. Talk to you tomorrow." Your mother replied back.

"Yes, talk to you tomorrow. Bye," you said gently and put the phone back where it belongs. You let out a sigh and tried to wipe away the blushed lines she had caused.

"Now, I can't tell if it's good news or bad news," Elvis spoke from beside you.

"It's good, she's just a tease ball." You sighed and looked over at him. Elvis chuckled at the name you had just given her.

"I'm sure it wasn't so bad," he now teased you. A groan left your lips as you stood up.

"Anyways," you rolled your eyes gently, "she said they can come over for dinner on Friday."

"That's good news," he smiled and stood up also. "I can't wait to meet them."

"Oh, just you wait," you smirked to yourself. You knew how your sister could be with men like Elvis. She would be attached to his hip the whole night.

"There's something you're not telling me, is there?" He questioned. You just shook your head in response and walked away. You left the shared bedroom and went down the stairs.

"Y/n, darlin'... baby, come on ya have to tell me," Elvis begged. You let out a laugh.

"You'll find out," you poked his chest.

"Why not now?"

"Because then what's the fun in that?" You smiled and walked through the house, getting to your final destination just after a bit of time. Elvis let out a whine and followed you around.

"I am happy to see them though... It's been too long." You pointed out to him.

"I bet," Elvis said and grabbed your hand. Interlocking your fingers together. You smiled and got closer to him. "I'm sorry I didn't suggest it earlier."

"No, that's okay... I needed to work on myself first before I could see them again. I told my mom basically everything, but I know it's going to be brought up again. If I can't hold tears back when talking about it... well, I would've needed more time. I think I'm ready though." You tried to convenience him. He looked at you with concerned eyes. 

"What?" You asked as you looked at him, seeing the concern in his eyes.

"I'm just proud of you really. Your improvement from when you first started staying here... I'm just so proud." Elvis smiled gently. You smiled and felt your cheeks heat up. You leaned your head against his arm and the two of your continued to walk around the property.

You have been here for almost two months now. During those months, you had fallen head over heels with Elvis. You felt stupid for falling so quickly to the first guy who showed you any sense of kindness. He took his time with you. He held you when you were upset. He was was always gentle with you. He chose his words carefully... He was the perfect man really... At least to you.

You two started getting closer and more intimate a month ago. You started to hold hands, cuddled while in bed together... he would kiss your cheeks, forehead, and head. He would dedicate songs to you. Sing songs for you... It made your heart flutter. 

"I wanted to talk to you about somethin'," Elvis spoke up after a few moments of silence.

"What about?" You asked as you turned to look at him.

"Us."

"Oh?" You raised your eyebrow.

"Listen... Uh... Fuck... this is much harder than I imagined." He chuckled nervously.

"You know you can tell me anything. I won't think of you any differently." You said softly. He smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, guess I uh... Guess I'm just scared is all." He scratched the back of his neck. You nodded understanding and gave him some time. You looked around at all the scenery. From the flowers that the gardeners have planted... to the tall trees off in the distance. It was all just so... beautiful.

"I know this may be like really soon... but I uh... like ya. Like a lot." When you heard him, you were positive he was pulling your leg, but Elvis wouldn't lie to you. He didn't have it in his guts to lie to you after everything that you've been through. You smiled gently and felt your face hurt up.

"I like you too Elvis... a lot," you said. Elvis looked at you shocked. He didn't exactly think you would say what you did. He was expecting an 'I need more time'  type of deal... but...

"I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out sometime. Let me treat you like a queen." Elvis smiled, taking your other hand in his. You stopped in your tracks and looked up into his eyes. The same eyes that saved you months prior. "You already do that Elvis... You always treat me like royalty, but I am not one to deny a date with the Elvis Presley.

"Really? I mean... I- I was expectin' a no or at least a... I need more time." He replied. You chuckled lightly at his reaction.

"You have shown me so much these past couple of weeks." You started to say as you walked over to the bench. "You've been so gentle with me... and... I've never had that before..." You looked over at him. He smiled softly and placed a kiss on the side of your head.

"You deserve the world and way more, sweetheart." Elvis pointed out. Your face reddened at that. You always dreamed of a better land... maybe... no not maybe... he was going to take you there. He had already taken you there. You thought back to that day. You remember laying in his arms for hours until dinner was called. Leon tried showing up again, he tried to call countless times that day... Elvis wasn't having it. You weren't having it. Still, you thought... that maybe he did love you. You know now that... he was just going to manipulate you again. Rail you back into that abusive relationship.

"So, when is this date then?" You asked as you rested your head against his shoulder.

"How 'bout tonight? I'll take ya out to the drive-in? Afterward, we can do to the diner?" He suggested. It sounded perfect to you. You've never been to a drive-in before.

"That sounds perfect," you smiled. You closed your eyes gently and breathed in gently.

You guys spent quite some time outside. Just enjoying the fresh air, but it was cut short to check the newspaper for the times. After you both agreed on a movie to see you guys started to get ready. It was already roughly five in the evening and the movie was at thirty past six.

You were in a dress that ended at your midthighs. It wasn't too tight and fit you just fine. The design itself was quite simple. It was a yellow dress that had brown buttons on the front. There were five to six different flowers on it that complimented the yellow solid color. You absolutely loved the dress, and so did Elvis.

After you 'moved' in with Elvis, you didn't have anything besides the clothes that were on your back. You didn't have many things at Leon's. Most of your things were still at your parent's house. Elvis was so sweet to buy you some clothes. You argued at first, but he begged and begged. You agreed but only to a limit. Seven outfits and that was it. Well, Elvis spent six of those seven on dresses, he was smart and got nude/ black or white based pants and shirts. He knew you would still wear his button-ups, so it figured to put the money towards dresses. Of course, he got you the other needs that you needed. 

The date went perfectly, well... for the most part. You guys watched the movie and then you went to the diner. Exactly what Elvis had suggested and you loved it... Even if your dinner was cut short. You weren't mad, you still had fun. Elvis drove you back to Graceland before he had to go right back out.

You walked inside with a smile and noticed a note on the entry table near the front door. You picked it up and read it. It was from Elvis' parents. It just described that they went out for the night and would be back tomorrow. You smiled gently and turned off the light and made your way upstairs. Once you got into your shared bedroom with Elvis. You stripped out of your dress and changed into one of Elvis's button-ups. You made your way back over to the bed and laid down. You didn't want to go to sleep without him... Then again... you didn't know how long he was going to be gone.

You didn't know what happened between the time you were waiting for him to come back... to feeling things you haven't felt in a long time. To when he showed up you two were attached at the lips. It was your first kiss and well... maybe you were just horny from the lust of being together with Elvis... You didn't know what was happening. Elvis was built confused at first, but he's not one to deny it.

"Are ya sure you want to do this darlin'?" Elvis looked at you with caring soft eyes. You nodded lightly and bite your bottom lip. "I have to hear ya say it."

"Yes, yes I do, Elvis." You breathed out. Elvis already had pinned up against the wall. Your hands were hooked onto his belted pants, pulling him closer to yourself.

"You're entering dangerous waters," Elvis warned you in a deep raspy voice. His breath right near your ear.

"I want to be, captain," you responded back. He kissed below your ear and kissed a trail down to your neck.

You sucked in a breath and worked on removing his belt as he pressed soft kisses against your skin. You let out a few quiet moans as he sucked and left love bites against your neck and collarbone. His hands were under your shirt, technically his, and they held your bare sides. You got the belt off and tossed it over to the side.

"Jump," he said gently. You listened to him and did the action. His arms caught you and he helped to warp your legs around him. He pressed his lips against yours. The kiss left your stomach lost for words. Every moment you spent with Elvis you felt butterflies... but this was something different. Something... better.

He placed you gently on the pulled and pulled away. He started to unbutton his lace black shirt. You bit your lip while watching him. His blue eyes scanned your body. Your pants have been long gone for a while now. All that was left were your panties and the button-up shirt.

"Unbutton yours," Elvis said. You nodded eagerly and fumbled to unbutton the shirt. Elvis tossed off his own shirt somewhere and started to get out of his pants. "But leave it on."

You finished unbuttoning your shirt and felt his lips crash into yours. You basically moaned against his lips from the impact. You reached out to grab his sides. His arms on either side of you. Your tongues collided together in perfect harmony. You didn't have to force yourself to kiss back. You didn't have to fake enjoying yourself.

Elvis pulled away and looked at you. Your near bare body. He wanted to see the whole of you naked, but god... he also wanted to fuck your brains out while you were wearing his clothes. He leaned down and gave a quick kiss to your lips before he started to trail kisses down your body. Down your valley, making sure to give your breasts some love. 

You felt pleasure from his touch. The way his tongue flicked your nipple. It was exotic. It made your core heat up. There was already a pool of liquid in your panties that Elvis was sure to comment on. 

He continued to kiss down your stomach, down to your panties. He would bring his head up, but only to remove the piece of cloth blocking him from his end goal. You let out a breath as he pulled them off with ease. He pushed your legs opened and stood in between them. It was then you got a whole view of his dick. He was much bigger than Leon, both wider and longer. You held your breath for a moment. Your hands gripped the bedsheets. Your heart was beating faster. You wanted him... you wanted him so badly.

"I want you, Elvis..." You spoke confidently. You honestly shocked yourself, but goddamn it... You needed him.

"What do you want sweetheart?" Elvis asked his hands rubbing the insides of your thighs.

"I want you in me, please." You begged him. He smirked gently and leaned down. 

"You look so hot begging for me, darlin'," he spoke deeply in your ear. It sent shivers down your spine.

"Please, please Elvis." Elvis pressed his lips against your jaw. His fingers running through your folds.

"You're all wet... just for little ol' me?" He kissed up to your lips. "I want to fuck you so badly," he pressed his lips against yours hungrily. You moaned into the kiss as he pressed his fingers into you. You already felt yourself stretching. You leaned your back, pulling your lips away from him.

"Ya like that, mama?" He asked you. You nodded and bite your bottom lip. Your eyes closer as you started to dig your nails into his back.

"I want to see your beautiful eyes, come on." He told you as he pressed in another finger, quickening his speed. You felt like you were about to cum right there and now. You opened your eyes and stared into his sapphire ones.

"There they are, so so beautiful." He spoke gently.

"Please..." you begged him once again. "Please fuck me."

"Your wish is my command, sweetheart." He smirked gently. He stood straight up and pulled his fingers out. He brought them up to his lips and sucked off your wetness. You watched him with a caught breath. You didn't know how, but you were getting even more turned on. 

He looked down and rubbed the tip of his dick along your fold. You let out a moan and threw your head back. The feeling made your toes curl at the contact.

"God your pussy is soakin'," Elvis commented and pushed himself in. You let out a louder moan. Feeling your walls stretch out around his length. Elvis let out a light gruff groan and leaned down. His hands placed on either side of you. 

He pushed further ever so gently. It was painful, but the pleasure that came out of it just flushed all the pain away. As he pushed all the way in, you felt him hit your g spot. You let out a loud moan and your legs quacked. It was a sensation you never felt before.

"Don' cum just yet, darlin'," Elvis chuckled lightly.

"I can't help it," you moaned as he started to move again. His thrusts were slow and graceful at the beginning but he got quicker with every passing thrust. You were quite thankful his parents went out. You didn't know how to react if they heard or even walked in on what was happening.

He pressed kisses against your neck as you became a moaning mess. You were sure he was leaving hickies with every second he spent at your neck, or around your chest. One of his fingers pressed against your clit, rubbing it in circles. It drove you absolutely wild. You were digging/dragging your nails along Elvis's back.

"You feel so fuckin' good, mama." He growled into your ear. You pulled his neck over and kissed his lips. You wanted all of him, and he made sure you got all of him as he got all of you.

"So, fuckin' tight," he mumbled against your lips. You were gonna cum at any given moment. You've never felt so much pleasure before. You felt like your insides were about to explode.

"Elv- Elvis," you moaned, "I-"

"Just hold it a little longer, baby." He said as he basically fell from hearing you moan his name. It was truly music to his ears. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but it almost made him cum. He pulled away from you and held your legs open with his hands. You were going to be sore tomorrow, rather you wanted to admit that or not.

Quiet moans left his lips ever so often. It was hot hearing him. It was hot seeing him in a state where you drove him crazy. He was losing his mind. From the way, your boobs bounced with every thrust, to the loud moans that left your mouth. Then to top it all off, you were in his shirt. A shirt that he wore... it looked better on you than it did him. Especially in this sight.

"Oh Elvis," you moaned, "please, I-"

"Almost mama, almost." He said and pushed himself further. He moved quicker if that was even possible. Your walls were clenching his dick. He was so close to cumming, but he wanted to cum at the same time. Your hands gripped the sheets. Your face was red, sweat was dripping down your body. Sweat beads fell from Elvis's forehead and onto your own body.

"Okay, shit-" Elvis groaned, "look at me. Come on, open those pretty eyes." Your mouth was hung open, moans and groans left with every passing second. You picked your head up ever so slightly and opened your eyes. You stared into his as he did yours.

"I want to see you when you cum." He admitted, "cum for me."

He didn't have to tell you twice. Your legs were already shaking in his hands. You had to fight with yourself to keep your eyes opened. It's like… all at once everything was let go. You orgasmed like never before… then again you mostly faked them beforehand. You felt Elvis shoot inside you as you came all over him. He held himself in your for a while longer. He wanted to make sure all his cum was inside you before he pulled out.

“Fuck darlin’,” he pulled himself away lightly. Your breathing was still fast and your body was hot. 

“That…” you started to speak but stopped. You felt embarrassed to say it out loud. You were sure Elvis already knew that he was good. He didn’t need another person telling him so.

“That…?” He raised an eyebrow as he leaned down. Closing the distance between the both of you.” Your mouth was still slightly parted.

“Was perfect,” 

“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement. He kissed the corner of your lips. “You are,” 

The two of you eventually moved from the side of the bed to the middle after awhile. You had disgusted the buttoned-up you had one and Elvis just about lost his mind. You were gorgeous and god… he was so lucky to have you. 

The two of you laid under the sheets. You were face towards each other. Elvis had his arms wrapped around you. His hands resting above your butt. He would every so often move his hands down to your butt. He didn’t really get a feel for it earlier he would argue. You didn’t mind it though, because it was Elvis. 

“I love you,” you whispered, scared to see how he would react. You refused to look at him really. You didn’t want to be declined. It might’ve been your high you were going off of… but you did love him. You were in love with Elvis.

“I love you too,” he said back and kissed your forehead. You looked at him with thankful eyes. You smiled and felt your heart quicken from happiness. Your hands found his neck and kissed him deeply. Your lips molded together like two puzzle pieces. You two were truly made for each other.

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Taglist: I didn’t tag anyone this time around... I am always updating my taglist form... so if you did fill that out please go ahead and refill it out. It doesn’t take that long. You only have to do this if you wanted to be tagged on the pieces that contain smut.

[neverasfarawayasitmayseemxo]

Goodbye

i have no clue what this is but i just felt like writing tonight. it kind of expands a little on something i wrote in 'Its Been So Long' but it's a little different.

also, if you're a big time rush fan like me, you'll understand one of the lines in the story :)

hope ya like it! xo

~

You listen to the rain beginning to pelt against the roof of the building. The bar is loud but the rain seems to be louder.

You watch as raindrops kiss the window. The parking lot is full of cars. You see a couple outside holding hands, rushing to get inside before they get soaked. The man has an umbrella over the woman's head but it didn't do any good.

"Here you go" Austin says, as he places a vodka soda in front of you.

He slides into the booth and places his beer glass on a coaster.

You thank him and take a sip.

"So" you begin. "What's the big news you have to share?"

Austin wipes his lips and lets out a giant sigh.

"Well, I got a call" he says, a huge grin is now plastered on his face.

You look around, waiting for him to continue.

"Aaaaaaaand?"

"I got the freaking part, baby!" Austin says, throwing his fist in the air.

Your mouth drops.

"You...you got the part!? You're going to be ELVIS?! Honey, that's amazing!!!!" you squeal.

You grab his hands across the table and you squeeze them gently. Austin has wanted this for so long. You were so proud of him.

He smiles, "Thanks babe, I'm so thrilled"

He rubs his thumb over your hand.

"So when do you start filming?" you ask.

Austin's facial expression changes. His smile turned into a frown and he let go of your hands. He placed his one hand on his beer and the other in his lap and looked down.

"That's....that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about" he says.

Oh no.

"What...what do you mean? You're scaring me..." you say, a little uneasy and apprehensive of what he may say next.

He pauses for a moment.

"I...start filming next week" he says.

You nod. "Okay, that's amazing...what's the bad part?"

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head.

"So I start filming next week...and I'll be filming for....a year" he says. He still wasn't making eye contact with you.

"Wow, that's a long time!" you say, taking another sip of your drink.

Austin nods, he rubs the rim of his beer with his finger.

"So we are going to be filming....in Australia"

It was as if a bomb dropped onto your entire life. He was going to be in Australia for an entire year and maybe even longer. There were so many things you were trying to process in your head.

"Wow...that's far..." you say.

He nods.

"It is...very far. On the opposite side of the world" he shrugs.

You look down and ask the question you were dreading to ask.

"What does this mean for us?"

Austin looks up at you and sighs.

"That's the thing....I don't know"

You almost stop breathing. That was not the answer you were expecting. You felt like the air was getting thinner and your breathing was beginning to shallow.

"I don't understand what that means" you say, a little irritated.

Austin rubs his face.

"I just don't know how we can make a long distance relationship like that work, you know? You have a whole life here. I would never want to uproot you from that" he states.

You just stare at him as the tears start to fall.

"You're my life" you say.

Austin grabs your hand across the table and sighs.

"And you're mine but there's more to life than just us"

You snatch your hand away and glare at him. Was he serious right now?

"Please don't be like that" he says solemnly.

"I can't believe you right now" you snap. You grab your purse and sling it over your shoulder.

"[Y/N], wait. Let's talk about this" he says.

You push through the bar doors and out into the pouring rain. The rain was least of your worries right now.

"[Y/N], WAIT" Austin shouts.

You turn around and just stand there.

"Can we go back inside? It's pouring out here" he asks.

"No, I'm going home" you say and turn around to head back to your car.

"[Y/N], opportunities like this come once in a lifetime" Austin says calmly.

You turn around and look at him. His hair was sticking to his head, his clothes were soaked. You couldn't tell the difference between the tears and the rain hitting your face.

"Maybe YOU only come once in a lifetime" you say.

Austin says nothing. He just looks at you, devastated.

"That's not fair" he says.

You shake your head.

"You're right, it's not fair at ALL" you reply.

You turn around and head over to your car. As you start it, you watch as Austin just stands there in the parking lot letting the rain soak his dark blue t-shirt and light blue jeans. He just kept looking at you.

You pull out of your spot and make a right onto the road. In your rearview mirror, you see Austin with his face in his hands.

[vemuabhi]

Mafia Boss

“Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can’t help falling in love with you.” —Elvis Presley

Annyonghaseyo!!! I know its been a long while since i wrote something but I couldn't pass this chance to write for my dear moot @justanawolf for her collab with @ara-mitsue​ I hope you like it.

Pairing : Oikawa X Reader

Word count : 1.1K

Genre : Mafia AU

Warnings : Its fluff. Just mention of poison but nothing happens

copyright © vemuabhi

Please support me if you like my writings.

‘Wait! What! How?’, you couldn’t think properly. Just morning you were cleaning the rooms and changing the sheets of the beds, now here you are in this huge costly car, with a handsome man sitting next to you in his black suit. His gaze was locked on you as he held a genial smile, to which you returned an awkward one with confused gaze. You couldn’t help but to think how it all started in the first place.

Just a couple months ago, after losing your job, you managed to secure a temporary job in one of the classy resorts through a friend. You were desperate to do work because of money issues and while waiting to get the job which you desired. Housekeeping wasn’t an easy job. By end of the day you’d be so exhausted from the work you’ve done. Even one holiday was awaited so that you could sleep for long.

The pay wasn’t bad like your previous company so you kept working. Sometimes rich people, celebrities, movie stars would come to resort… but half of the time you just wanted to go and sleep so you barely gave a damn. Your sleep was more important than some celebrity. Anyway the employees were prohibited from asking photographs or autographs of them because… yeah the main reason for those people to come here was because they needed a break.

One day after cleaning one of the rooms you saw two men loitering near the kitchen. For some reason you couldn’t feel at ease. The two men kept whispering and it didn’t seem usual. They walked past you and you could barely catch the words of a man. ‘509…. Poison’ was what you managed to hear. But you were sure that you heard it correctly. You kept calm even though you were freaking out. ‘its my floor’. Then you noticed that it was nearly 1pm. That’s when it hit you. ‘Could the… food be poisoned?’, you thought as you quickly headed into the elevator. Upon reaching the floor, you went quickly towards the room and broke one top rule of how a staff member shouldn’t use the keycard to invade the customer’s privacy.

As you basically broke into the room, you shouted, “DON’T EAT THE FOOD”, making all 4 men in the room to look at you with surprise.

“I’m sorry for intruding but I heard some one saying that the food was poisoned and-”, your sentence was cut off by a big thud behind you near the door. A man apparently pushed the two men you saw on the floor and said, “We found the culprits Boss”.

“Good. Now we know who was trying to betray us. Question them for more details”, a man with brunette hair replied as he got up from the sofa. It felt more like a command and the 2 men were taken away instantly. You didn’t notice the men in the room properly because of how tensed you were. But this man… was the absolute definition of attractive. The way his white dress shirt fit perfectly on his torso was… hot. But your mind didn’t give you much time to think about his looks and how… they actually knew about it already and… your involvement wasn’t necessary at all… it felt so awkward as all the people looked at you.

You felt like a clown. You bowed and apologized and as you were about to leave, you heard him. “Wait”, the way just one word could send chills down your spine was not imaginable till you experienced now. You turned around and looked at him.

“So, how did you know it was poisoned?”, he asked as he walked towards you. He seemed not angry but… he didn’t seem friendly either. His intimidating aura made you gulp before answering. You explained how you felt suspicious about the men and heard them talking about poison and the room number.

“Oh… I see. Good job”, you were relieved after his words and thanked him. You really wanted to leave now. “say… what’s your name?”, he asked as he got closer to you. There wasn’t actually much distance between you two now. “I’m Y/N, sir”.

“So Y/N, come with me”.

It wasn’t a request. It was an order of his. There wasn’t much you could do but to pray that you don’t die. That’s how you ended up in his car. ‘But why specifically beside him? What does he want?’, your thoughts were running inside your head.

“sir, if you don’t mind can I know why you asked me to come with you?”, you finally asked him after telling him about yourself.

“Uh! Actually, its because you seemed like a good person”

“sorry?!”

“yes. I like people who are honest, kind and loyal to what they do. I want to know more about you. You perked my interest” he smirked.

Your cheeks turned red at his straightforward behavior. “Wha-!”, your reaction made him to laugh. Making you even more embarrassed.

“So what do you do sir?”

“its just normal work like taking care of some businesses here and there and solving disputes between some criminals”, he winked as he finished telling it.

‘Does he think anything involving criminals is normal? Does he work in mafia?’ you thought as he snickered noticing your confused and astonished look.

“Okay okay. Ah! Look we reached our house!”

‘our?’, you wanted to ask him but your jaw dropped and eyes widened as you saw the “house” in front of you. It wasn’t a house but a FREAKING CASTLE.

So many cars lined up side by side and men everywhere. “Are you a gangster or do you work in Mafia?”, your question made him to playfully raise his eyebrow.

“Oh so quick to understand”, sarcasm at its finest. You wanted to ask it before but weren’t comfortable asking it then.

“What do you want me to do here sir?”, you asked and he replied, “you can work for me dear, I wont be cheap like your previous company. Just don’t go and betray me”.

“I wont sir”, you replied. Why?… you don’t know.

“Good girl”, he said as he got down the car. You tried to get down the door didn’t open. ‘why does this happen to me?” Just when you were about to curse your luck, the door opened and there stood the brunette with brown eyes. Offering his hand to you as if you were a princess. You took his hand and walked into the “house”. Strangely you didn’t let go of his hand and he didn’t either. You knew it would be dangerous to be in this place. To work here… especially to be beside him. But… the heart wants what it wants.

copyright © vemuabhi

Reblogs and Comments are always appreciated!!

[the-witty-pen-name]

Can’t Help Falling in Love

Loki x Reader (f) 

Valentine’s Day with the God of Mischief 

Based on suggestion by: @squadleaderchase​

A/N: Thank you so much for the suggestion! I loved writing this, it was so much fun! 

Happy Valentine’s Day y’all!

There is also a gender neutral version of this fic, and will be posted shortly after this one! Read it here! 

I recommend to putting on Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis towards the end just for that finishing touch! 

Summary: When Loki learns about the traditions of Valentine’s Day, he asks you to be his Valentine- and reluctantly takes advice from Steve Rogers. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: none; just fluff 

“Can’t Midgardians have a holiday that doesn’t involve such a grotesque display of… red?” Loki asks walking into the living room of the Avengers compound. Loki arrived at the compound a few weeks before Christmas and so far, he’s experienced two Earth holidays: Christmas and New Year’s. Of course, Tony had picked the theme for both parties to be elaborately red and gold- he claimed the fact that it matched his suit was merely a coincidence.

“Just wait until next month,” you reply casually, your eyes not leaving the brief you were reading while you sat cozied up in one of the large armchairs. “I think you’ll like St. Patrick’s Day much more… color scheme wise at least.”

Loki looked up curiously at the hearts of all shades of red and pink Natasha had hung up to decorate the Avengers’ living quarters. She had gone to visit Clint’s family and his kids spent hours making Valentines and decorations out of construction paper and glitter. Loki looked almost puzzled at the lopsided hearts that hung from the ceiling on transparent line so they looked like they floated mid-air.

“Perhaps I might,” he mumbled to himself, the lovesick aura of his surroundings making him slightly disgusted. “Though I suppose I find your rituals as bizarre as you’d find on Asgard.”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled in response to his thinking out loud. It was rare that the compound would be this quiet. It was a Friday evening and in the middle of a team meeting earlier today, Tony declared exhaustedly that everyone needs to start the weekend early and dismissed everyone despite Steve’s protests. You weren’t sure where everyone else went and you didn’t particularly care- enjoying the rare peace and quiet.

You didn’t mind Loki’s company. He was a little aloof but overall, you found him more to be misunderstood than anything else. He wasn’t like Thor and sure, he had a very trouble ridden past to downplay it- but he’s confided in you all it wasn’t entirely his doing. Out of everyone living at the compound, he probably had grown the closest to you, or as close as Loki would allow himself to be to someone.

“What even is this holiday?” Loki asked, pulling his attention from the decorations to where you sat, binder in your lap. You looked up and closed the brief, tossing it onto the coffee table in front of where you sat.

“Sunday is Valentine’s Day,” you say looking back over to him, meeting his eyes. “I mean overtime the traditions and how we celebrate have changed but it’s originally the day meant to honor St. Valentine and commemorate his death. There’s a lot more to it than that and there’s all different of different origins, but now it’s more like a day where you celebrate love, because he was the patron Saint of Love.”

Loki nods, liking the idea of this holiday much more than New Years already. He didn’t mind Christmas, but the elaborate parties made everything not very appealing to him. You can’t blame the god for not having a good time at parties where every guest fears him or hates him. He walks over and takes a seat on the couch and crosses his legs. He was intrigued enough to continue the conversation and ask you more questions. “What are the traditions?” He asks curiously.

“Traditionally, you would ask someone to be your Valentine, and that’s the person you want to spend the day with,” you answer with a small shrug, trying to explain a holiday you’ve never had to explain before. “Some people have it easy and they ask their significant other, and if you don’t have one, you ask someone you’re romantically interested in to be your Valentine. Then you give each other gifts, like chocolates or flowers, anything really that’s romantic and you go out on a date, like a nice dinner but it doesn’t have to be. That’s the basic gist.”

“Thank you, (y/n),” Loki said, mulling over your explanation. “You’ve been helpful, as always. Tell me, who’s your Valentine?”

“I don’t have one,” you answered honestly. The only time you really celebrated was when you had been with someone. You’d never really participated otherwise. You planned to just spend the night alone or with Nat if she also didn’t have plans and probably watch a movie- most definitely Pride and Prejudice.

“Shame,” Loki said with a tsk. “Perhaps, if you would be interested, you could be my Valentine?”

“Really?” you ask, honestly surprised.

“I actually like the idea of the day,” Loki shrugged. “And I don’t know many people, people seem to hate me on this planet- no idea as to why. You’ve always been kind to me, and you are the most tolerable person I’ve encountered on this planet.”

“That’s oddly very kind of you,” you say with a chuckle. “I appreciate the sentiments. Um, yes. I’d be happy to be your Valentine.”

“Excellent,” he grinned. He clapped his hands together and stood up. “Splendid. I’ll ask Thor to help me plan something.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you smile, picking up your paperwork again as Loki heads off to find his brother.

***

“Brother,” Thor’s voice echoed in the training room. “Spar with me?”

“As much as I would love to,” Loki said sarcastically, “I need your help with something I need to plan.” Loki walked over to the side of the mat where Thor had been training with Captain Rogers.

“Plan what?” Captain Rogers asked curiously. It was an innocent enough question but Loki took it as Rogers insinuating his distrust in him. Of course, Loki can’t blame the man but it did rub him the wrong way.

“If you must know Captain Rogers, I’m making plans for this upcoming Valentine’s Day,” Loki said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure since you have quite the active love life recently, your words of wisdom are probably of infinite value.”

“You can learn a thing or two from me,” Steve retorted as he put the punching bag beck into place. “But I don’t like your attitude.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever manage without you,” Loki scoffed. He turned his attention back to his brother. “I need help to determine where I should take (y/n) and what I should get her.”

“(y/n) agreed to this?” Thor asks, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Rogers kept his mouth shut, deciding to see where this conversation will go before

“Yes, brother. I asked her to be my Valentine as stated by tradition and she said yes.”

“Ah! Good for you, brother!” Thor exclaimed, happily. “I’m glad you’re immersing yourself in the Midgard culture.”

“Yes, yes,” Loki waved him off, “Now, please, tell me what I should do.”

“I’ve never celebrated Valentine’s Day,” Thor says with a shrug and a sympathetic look. “I haven’t had much opportunity to explore the culture. Every time I’m on this planet I’m a little busy preventing its destruction. Perhaps Rogers can help you?”

Loki let out an exasperated sigh. He avoided Rogers as he knew the man had such a smug look on his face. Loki refused to give him the satisfaction. However, he realized that wouldn’t be fair to you. Rogers not only knew what to do, but he was also close friends with you. He quickly realized if he wanted to celebrate with you properly, he’d need to rely on the infamous super soldier.

“Captain Rogers,” Loki said with a charismatic smile, turning back to the man. “I wholeheartedly apologize for my lack of… social niceties. If you’d be willing to help me, to ensure your dear friend enjoys her holiday, I would be sincerely grateful.”

“Only because of (y/n),” Rogers says skeptically, waving a finger at Loki. “She deserves to enjoy her time and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you screw up her evening.”

“What a loyal friend.”

Years later, the Avengers would still talk about the fact Loki cared about you so much, he sought out advice from Captain America and Thor. And as Captain America said, he helped Loki with every last detail and Steve never let Loki forget it.

***

Loki had told you that he’d come to your room to get you at 6 o’clock Sunday evening. He wore clothes he had picked out, black dress pants, a white button-down shirt and shiny, black dress shoes. He had kept the last button of the shirt unbuttoned and he had rolled the sleeves up, a styling tip he had gotten from Thor. He had his long hair gelled back and tamed, ignoring Captain Roger’s horrible suggestion for a haircut. He felt very weird not wearing any green, but he took the advice he was given on his ensemble.

You were just putting on your heels when he knocked at your door Sunday promptly at 6pm. Of course, Loki would be very punctual. You gave yourself one more quick once more in the mirror in your room before heading to answer the door.

You had on a pair of dark green heels that perfectly matched your dress. You also layered over the outfit a suede brown jacket, that complimented the jewel tone of the dress and shoes nicely. You kept your appearance simple, sticking to how you usually styled your hair. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you quickly opened the door, your jacket and bag both in hand.

“Wow,” you say with a grin, when you take in Loki’s appearance. “You look very nice.”

“You look stunning,” Loki said, his eyes widening, taking in your appearance. The compliment made you have butterflies.

“Thank you,” you said with false confidence. Underneath, you were a nervous wreck as you took the arm that he extended to you.

“So,” Loki began to walk down the hallway with you. “Apparently, this planet has something called reservations, and anyone who tries to get one a few days before Valentine’s Day is a “moron,” according to a very rude young man I had the pleasure of speaking with- the first time using a phone too on top of that. So, I hope you don’t mind if the evening is a little… makeshift.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” you reassure him. You feel him relax slightly. You found how hard he was trying so endearing.

Where else did he bring you but just down the hall to the living room. At night with the lights dimmed, combined with Natasha’s homemade decorations, it actually looked quite beautiful. He had decorated with an eclectic array of candles as well that covered most surfaces of the room. It also looked like he had swiped every throw pillow in the whole compound and had them arranged the coffee table in the center of the room.

“Did you do all of this?” You ask in awe.

“Yes,” he replied, just watching you. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

“I had to make my own version of advice I received,” he disclosed to you. You sat opposite each other on either side of the coffee table, you kicked off your heels and he did the same with his shoes. “Captain Rogers said- and I’m trying my best to quote verbatim, ‘You need to show a girl a good time. You gotta take her to dinner and dancing.’” He even mimicked Steve’s voice perfectly. It made you laugh.

“I can’t believe you subjected yourself to Steve for me, I’m touched,” you smiled. “I mean I love Steve,” you continue, “But I can’t imagine you too being best friends anytime soon.”

“No, I suppose we probably won’t be,” Loki chuckles.

“I hate to point it out,” you continue, “but I think you missed both the dinner part and the dancing part of that plan.” Loki smirked and when you blinked, he transformed the whole room.

“Did I?” he asks, with an eyebrow raised. You gasp, looking around the room you were now in. You knew it was an illusion, but it felt very real. The atmosphere, the breeze coming in from the large bay windows that weren’t there before. The coffee table now a table now one of many dining tables in an incredibly high-end restaurant. The table had food, and a bottle of wine. You were stunned. There was a live band and other couples in other tables and out on the dancefloor.

“Loki?” You exclaimed, looking around at your new surroundings. It was amazing. You couldn’t believe the magic right before your eyes. Of course, you knew it was just one of his tricks, but it felt so incredibly real. You picked up your fork and took a bite of the food in front of you. It was incredible, you questioned if you were even eating.

“It’s real,” Loki said, like he could read your mind. Honestly, he had only just anticipated your next question. “I made it. Well, I made it with Friday’s supervision.”

“It’s fantastic! I can’t believe you went through all this trouble just for me.”

“Sweetheart, you are very much worth it- worth much more than this,” he responded casually, throwing in the term of endearment to see how you’d react. He caught the way it made you smile.

You continued to talk for a little while, and shared stories. You were worried that compared to his life on Asgard, he’d find your stories incredibly boring and mundane. It seemed to be the opposite. His attention was only on you and he held on to every word you said. He created this elaborate setting just to keep you the center of his attention.

“Should we dance?” He asks suddenly, a glimmer in his eye. You looked down apprehensively.

“I’m not really a dancer,” you tried to insist.

“Do you actually not want to dance, darling? Because if so, I will not bring it up again,” he says earnestly, “But, if you’re saying no because you’re afraid I’m going to judge you, I honestly can promise you I would never dream of doing so.”

You give it another moment to ponder over his words. You were taken aback at how well he seemed to know how you were thinking. You let out a sigh of defeat, and smile. “I’d love to,” you reply.

He stands up and offers you his hand. His smile is enough to make you weak at the knees. You take his hand and he leads you over to the dancefloor as the band starts playing its next song. “Does that singer sound like Elvis?” You ask, the small glitch in the illusion throwing you off for only a moment.

“I don’t know who that is,” Loki says with a laugh. He pulls you in close and rests one hand on the small of your back and the other grasps your hand close. You wrap your other arm around his shoulder. You are both pressed up incredibly close to one another. You rest your head on his chest comfortably, and you can’t see how much the action makes his whole face go red. Guiding your movements together, it mostly just swaying in place. The steps were small, and with the music playing for the two of you.

“This place is incredible,” you sigh happily looking up at him. “But I think I liked the first place a little better.”

He nodded in agreement and you got to watch a green hue encompass the walls of the restaurant as they almost melted away, and everything around the two of you just fade away. The sconces on the walls, revealed themselves to be the candles that cluttered the living room and the couples evaporated with the green mist. The table you had both sat at, turned back to the coffee table but the empty plates remained. The elaborate statues that surrounded the room turned into the furniture you knew well, and then the live band faded away to reveal Steve’s record player indeed playing a 45 of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley.

When the room finished revealing its true appearance to you, you laid your head back on Loki’s chest and mumbled that now it was perfect. He smiled to himself, thinking about how without a doubt in his mind, Valentine’s Day is his absolute favorite holiday on Midgard. He now couldn’t believe this reality was real. If he wasn’t holding you, he’d pinch himself. You were here, with him, in his arms, dancing in the middle of the living room on this godforsaken planet.

“(y/n)?” he whispered softly as the song was coming to an end.

“Mhmm?” You responded, your eyes closed, really just basking in the feeling of being so close to him and the smell of his cologne.

“Will be mine?” He asks carefully, remembering the phrase from Captain Roger’s advice. That phrase apparently being very important if today went well and he wanted to ask you to “go steady.” You chuckled softly, hearing Steve’s influence in the phrase.

“I would love to,” you say with a shy smile looking back up to him. He beams, incredibly happy you said yes. Swept up in his emotions, he swiftly leans down and presses his lips to yours capturing them in a passionate first kiss.

“Oh gross!” You hear someone exclaim, making you both pull away. It’s Tony- who was currently holding his side in pain as Pepper elbowed him in the side.

“You really had to do that?” she chastised him, rolling her eyes and giving an apologetic look to you and Loki before pushing Tony down the hallway to give you both your moment back, as sullied as it had become thanks to Tony.

“I’m so sorry,” she said embarrassed by his outburst, ushering him out as quickly as possible.

Loki turns his head back to you, immediately after they are out of view. “Where were we, darling?” He smirks, pulling you in for another kiss.

[alolowrites]

A Vision Come to Life

Summary: Every artist wants to bring their own paintings to life. Sero is no different after he becomes infatuated with you—a beautiful stranger who exists in his dreams. One night he sees your face and decides to paint you with all his heart.

Song: “Pintame” by Elvis Crespo

Author’s Note: I always had this story idea in my head after listening to this song. It was different, and I just had to write it out. Not sure why it took me forever to get it done. Probably because I don’t know much about painting and really did not want to make a fool out of myself (I’m sorry if something is wrong, I tried my best with the research 😭😭😭). 

On another note, this is my first story for Sero so yay! Please enjoy!

Word Count: 1.6K+

Sero felt alive again.

He rushed into his private art studio, nearly tripping over the blemished tarp covering the floor. Both sleeves hastily rolled up past his elbows. Sero swiveled nonstop and panicked when he couldn’t find the cart filled with the art supplies. Ah, it was at the far corner; he wheeled it closer to the center. Precious time was fleeting, and so was the inspiration that came to his head just now.  

After being stuck in a rut for almost a month, Sero was itching to paint something. Or more accurately, he was dying to paint a certain someone. And that person was you—a stranger he’d never met in his life. Yet, you managed to invade his dreams every night for the last two weeks. It was like a game; you waltzed in, giggling up a storm, and Sero ran after you. He saw your back, but never your face; he would wake up just when you’d turn around to show yourself. That was how all his dreams ended.  

Until this morning.

Sero plopped down on the stool that wobbled under his weight. The blank canvas stared back at him. Fingers scrambled to grab a charcoal pencil lost in a messy pile of his art supplies. A good sketch of your head and shoulders was key to bringing you to life. His eyes followed the delicate strokes that fleshed out your beautiful features. He didn’t want to miss out on a single detail on this painting.

Especially that lovely face of yours, the one that took his breath away. Sero gave special attention to those unique details. A quick solution was added to seal the sketch and left to dry. Sero distracted himself by prepping his materials. All his fingers twitched, and he bit the inside of his cheek so hard it could bleed. The urge to paint you drove him insane. He couldn’t help it—the artistic flame was burning again, and much stronger than before.

His eyes wandered to the canvas. One touch and the corners of his lips curved; it was dried. The imaginary chains broke loose, allowing Sero to dive straight into his work. A ray of sunlight peeked through the windows. Sero grinned, brushing the paint across your cheeks. Each movement felt natural, and he let you—his muse—be his guide.

Sero wanted to capture everything about you.

He painted your nose so he could breathe the same air as you. He painted your lips, those soft and luscious lips that begged for a kiss. He painted your eyes that left him mesmerized no matter where he stood. He painted you with every bit of passion and desire raging in his heart and soul.

You only existed in his dreams, but Sero knew that’s not where you belonged. His mind was too cramped for your magnificent presence. You deserved better than that. Which was why Sero chose to paint you on the largest canvas he owned like the absolute queen you were. Anything less would fail to showcase your exquisite beauty in Sero’s eyes.

Another stroke here. A dash of color there. A touch of shade everywhere. Not once did the paintbrush stop its graceful dance across the canvas. It was as though Sero was under a spell where his only focus was on you. Sero succumbed to the madness clouding his sense of reality. There was no use fighting against it. He trusted you, the lovely muse living in his mind, to control him until he finished the masterpiece.

Sero switched to a thinner brush so he could add the finer details with great precision. He paid special attention to your eyes and lips. The tip of the brush dabbed around your irises, emphasizing the playful glint that drove Sero crazy. As for your lips, they carried a mischievous smile as though you knew something he did not.

An exhausted sigh broke the silence. Sero wiped the sweat beads trickling down his forehead. He finished and took a couple of steps back to admire his artwork. A tired, but satisfied smile, stretched across his face. He lowered his color palette and paintbrush, ignoring the cramped muscles around his fingers.

You were worth the pain.

As Sero cleaned up his materials, he couldn’t help but feel as though he was being watched. The back of his hair stood up as he twiddled a dirty rag. Sero gazed at the painting. Everything about the portrait was spectacular and impressively realistic despite being a figment of his imagination. You weren’t real. So why did he feel nervous as your eyes followed him out the door?

Sero shook his head. The paint was making him see things. Besides, it was also late, and his strained eyes needed to rest. He passed out the moment his head hit the pillow. Sero expected to see you again in his dreams, and he waited. But tonight, you did not come.

A loud knock woke Sero up.

He hissed as the morning sun blinded his eyes. Another knock banged on the door, and Sero tossed the bed covers aside. Who wanted to see him so early in the day? Sero groaned, shuffling his feet down the hall. He answered the door with disheveled hair and yesterday’s clothes on his back. In hindsight, Sero should have made himself more presentable.

Only who would have guessed the person knocking on his door was you—the muse that lived in his dreams. Sero stumbled forward, grabbing the doorframe for support. Was he still dreaming? If he was, everything felt too real. Sero didn’t know whether or not to close his agape mouth, and you giggled.

“Hi, there!” Sero was taken aback by the sound of your voice. His breath hitched, and you tilted your head as though everything was normal. You bowed politely while sharing your name. “Sorry if I woke you up so early! I’m the new neighbor living down the hall. I forgot to introduce myself after moving in yesterday.”

“I-It’s f-fine.”

That was a lie, and Sero knew it. The young artist was in awe as he took in your overwhelming presence. You were more stunning in the flesh than in his imagination and artistic piece combined. His heart pounded as he studied your facial features. Everything was the same—your adorable nose, your lively eyes, and your radiant smile. They were the same ones he painted for hours until they looked perfect. Sero was sure he saw the brush strokes peeking through your skin.

“Hey, you okay?” Sero nearly laughed; he didn’t know where to begin with that question. You inched dangerously close to his face with a raised eyebrow. “You look a little pale, almost as if you saw a ghost or something.”

“I, ah, slept late last night,” he wheezed out, his chest squeezing itself tight. There was no way you were real. Sero swallowed a thick gulp. “I was, um, just working on—”

“An art piece?” Now that sent a shiver down Sero’s spine. You chuckled, dismissing the surprised look in eyes. “You’re covered in paint, silly!”

Sero relaxed slightly. “Oh, right…”

“Well, does this cute artist have a name?”

“I’m Sero Hanta, sorry about that,” he rubbed the back of his neck. You hummed, as though you already knew his name. A cheeky grin crept on your face. It was at that moment Sero noticed a playful gleam flash across your eyes. He knew because he painted that exact expression until his fingers became numb. But you weren’t real.

“Oh no worries,” you stood up straight, carrying an air of mystery. Your allure reeled Sero in like a siren beckoning a ship full of fishermen lost at sea. “I’m glad we finally had the chance to meet. Maybe we can talk some more, say this afternoon at a nearby café? You can even show me around the neighborhood. I’ve been meaning to stretch my legs after unpacking all day yesterday.”

“S-sure.”

“Perfect.”  

On the surface, your smile was innocent. However, Sero picked up the subtle slyness hiding underneath. He knew because, like your eyes, he painted those exact lips. Sero’s hand twitched as he watched you saunter away. Seconds later, he slammed the door and rushed down the hall to his art studio.

Sero barged into the room with his chest heaving uncontrollably. Sweat beads rolled down his neck, and he felt oddly hot in his wrinkly clothes. The color on his face drained as he stumbled closer to the canvas. Raggedy breaths filled the room, shocked eyes growing wider with every step he took toward the art piece.  

You were gone; only the background remained inside the canvas. Sero circled the easel, trying to make sense of what was happening. One hand pushed his hair up in distress. All the signs were pointing to one thing, and he refused to believe it. You weren’t real; you were just muse from his dreams. Just a beautiful face that teased him every night and Sero painted you to admire your beauty with his own eyes.

Sero shook his head, denying everything. He struggled to stay sane and believed he was still dreaming. Any minute now, he will wake up, and your portrait will be there to greet his eyes. Sero mumbled under his breath to calm down. The artist glanced at the canvas only to do a quick double-take.

Both legs caved under the immense weight that dropped on his shoulders. Sero crawled to the canvas, his throat going dry. One finger hovered above the lower righthand corner with words written in charcoal pencil that read:

Thanks for painting me!

Sero brought his vision to life…literally.

Thank you for reading!

[carmenxjulia]

I put together a transcript of the 2 hour Q&A Interview the Carmen Sandiego Discord did with Showrunner Duane Capizzi. All of the questions were submitted by server members. You can read everything below the break!

Duane Capizzi:

Hi there!

Am I in? Is this thing on?

PizzaHorse:

Hi, welcome!

Yep, you're in the right place!

Duane Capizzi:

Sorry I'm late, I was wandering around some empty Discord hallways looking for the right room haha

PizzaHorse:

No worries. Let's get started!

Who is your favorite character?

Duane Capizzi:

Moose Boy!

KIDDING!

Alright, how to NOT get myself in trouble if my answer isn't "Carmen" haha.

But really, they are ALL my babies.

So I know it's going to sound like a cop out to some that I can't pick just one. But hmm, some for instances...

I love that she's so morally evolved at such a young age; her ability to always take the high road and never lower herself; her drive and conviction and dedication. Her ability to kick serious booty and look good while doing it. Her progressive values, her fashion sense. I could go on and on. But then there's Shadowsan and his arc; Chase and his. Julia, who's every bit as strong as Carmen but shows it in different ways. The Cleaners don't get enough love.

I'll close that question with an anecdote about The Cleaners ...

I love that all our characters are embraced and that everyone seems to have favorites. Our sound engineer Marcel is a pretty serious guy: he has a serious job that takes high levels of focus and attention. He's always deeply focused and not prone to small talk. Anyway, we were in the middle of our first or second sound mix, and he suddenly stops in the middle and turns around to face us. I'm thinking, "uh oh, we're giving too many notes." That's when I notice he's freeze framed the Cleaners. He says "I really like these guys." Then he turns around, hits play and gets back to work.

PizzaHorse:

What was the biggest challenge for coming up with new stories and plot for the reboot?

Duane Capizzi:

THE biggest? Sigh. I'm not sure I could come up with just one. Plotting is always challenging and we had the brain trust of the room, our trusty white board, and writer assistant to keep the threads of the ongoing storyline together. I think the single biggest ONGOING challenge was tracking which character knew what at any given time.

The caper part was challenging - coming up with new capers and keeping them interesting and fresh. But, it was the characters and their interactions that kept things fresh and interesting. Another museum heist? That's okay - Chase is on the case and he gets to interact with "X" this time (for instance).

There were also some episodes - Duke of Vermeer and Crackle Goes Kiwi come to mind - where there was SO MUCH SET UP needed to get the payoffs to work. I was really worried about too much talk/too much detail. Very "Swiss watch!" It took a lot of work to make sure it all clicked and was clear - hopefully it seems effortless on screen but I can't say there wasn't some sweat and the occasional tear (mostly from me - I'm a big cry baby

But really, what made it fun was that we had so many buckets to draw from: sometimes a story germ initially began with a character idea; sometimes it was inspired by global location; sometimes it was a clever way to update or reimagine an idea from old Carmen lore. Usually, it was some combination of all of the above!

PizzaHorse:

What was your favorite scene to write?

Duane Capizzi:

I think we have a theme here! "How can I pick just one ...?"

As a film buff, I got to indulge in some serious fan nerdery on this show: I got to write spy movies, yakuza movies, spaghetti neo-westerns (though turning it on its head: spaghetti westerns usually involve REVENGE and because of Carmen's character make up, this was sort of anti-revenge).

Is writing coming up with the idea or typing it? Haha. An "if a tree falls in the forest" question. The writing team and I had so many cathartic "that's how it goes" in the room. But on my own, writing the Pilot, was a very inspiring time for me: I remember laughing out loud the moment I thought of Chase falling on his own car (in part because of doing my spin on "that trope" that we've seen in so many hard boiled movies recently). But also how emotional I got when I imagined the simple but potent image of Black Sheep deciding to take her destiny into her own hands and walk that long corridor to the Faculty who we were about to meet for the first time.

I think I've cited this in another interview, but there was a period where I was completely immersed in Chase's arc and the scene where he would crack the location of VILE island ... by listening to Julia in a dream ... was a big one for me. It revealed he was finally open to admitting he needed Julia more than he would ever admit - yet, it was his own subconscious speaking.

The next morning, after cracking that scene, I bumped into Raf Petardi (voice of Chase) ... at the supermarket! It was very strange and hilarious

PizzaHorse:

Did you scrap any lengthy or funny scenes that you would be able to share?

Duane Capizzi:

With few exceptions, most scene cuts are done at the script stage so that the story board team doesn't waste effort over boarding. A variety of trims to any script are common, but they are usually for the better

The easier question to answer might be scenes were part of our "wish list" at writer room stage, but never made it to story or script. I hesitate to go too deep here (in the event that we might ever do more Carmen episodes in this canon - I'm not giving up hope). And there were cases where things we wanted to do earlier in the series wound up getting nixed or not fitting for whatever reason, but we got them in later - USUALLY FOR THE BETTER. So there's sort of a reverse Murphy's Law/rule of good fortune somehow in these things. But some fun things that didn't make it into the show, that leap to mind were: a Bollywood dance sequence (!). A Vegas caper involving Brunt wanting to steal an Elvis jumpsuit against the backdrop of an Elvis impersonator convention. We also thought it would be neat to get Maelstrom imprisoned so that Julia could interrogate him and he would play mind games with her - very Lector/Clarice!

PizzaHorse:

Were there any different treatments of Carmen you pitched before settling on the one we ended up with?

Duane Capizzi:

I was one of several "pitches" that I'm sure HMH heard before running with my version. But I can honestly say I've never pitched anything as fully formed: the take on Carmen felt so right to me, and clearly HMH and by extension Netflix agreed

I'll answer your question with an anecdote: I had the entire Pilot pretty well worked out, and pitched it in the first meeting. But one key thing that changed (much for the better!), simply because it wouldn't have fit without slogging things down ...

In my Pilot pitch, Black Sheep's escape on the boat was off screen: we see Shadowsan corner her, then we cut away. The rest of the Faculty show up to find SS's broken sword on the rocks, and are led to believe BS killed him (!). In the present, Crackle points his weapon at Carmen and prepares to pull the trigger. We know that Chase is on the way and may rescue her. The compartment door opens to reveal - not Chase - but Shadowsan! Big surprise! Then we cut back to BS's escape and find out what really transpired etc etc.

Crazy, right? SS would have been hanging out with the gang in season 1; we might not have gotten to 203 with his back story, since his sword was broken and he couldn't return it. Just one of those magical things where "things work out" the way they are supposed to. THAT SAID, it made for a heckuva pitch

PizzaHorse:

Are there any characters that ended up taking a direction you didn't initially anticipate?

Duane Capizzi:

GRAY.

I didn't know we'd make him amnesiac when I wrote the Pilot, that was something we came up with in our first week Writer Room.

And even then, when it became clear he'd be a key piece of the bigger puzzle, we didn't know how exactly (mostly the Season 4 stuff).

We did get very deep with a version where 404 ended with his protective streak for Carmen kicking into high gear, and they would be fighting off Vile Guards back to back in perfect tandem. Then, having chosen Carmen over VILE, it was Carmen who actually orchestrates Gray going "off grid" so that VILE can never find him again. Funny, I know that is arguably the version of Gray's arc that many fans might have preferred seeing. But in the tradition of spy thrillers and film noir, and for a lone wolf character like Carmen who is focused on her life mission and not romance, we stand behind where we went with him. We felt it was so much more compelling ... and truly more emotional that he totally has a get out of jail free card when he sacrifices everything (including his life, potentially) to save Carmen.

when she needs him most!

I know I made some controversial comments about Gray "not being good enough for Carmen" and I'd like to clarify that I meant, until that final episode. What he did was so selfless and heroic. Is there hope for them in the future? Who knows?! But I do hope we get to explore that one day

I'm sure Gray is living off the grid somewhere now, inspired by Carmen's selfless good and thinking of her from time to time.

PizzaHorse:

You mentioned in the interview with Alicyn that Carmen is a love story, but you were cut off before you could finish discussing. Could you elaborate on your answer now?

Duane Capizzi:

Ugh, yes! Sorry about that. I actually answered that privately for someone so will cut and paste that response here. Let's see if it works.

Something we never said in the show, but something I imparted to the creative team was: Carmen Sandiego is (among other things) a LOVE STORY, where every character in our ensemble is in love with Carmen in one way or another. Even if they don't know it! That love can take different forms: we see how spurned by Carmen Coach Brunt feels and why she retaliates so excessively. Chase eventually comes to realize that he too loves Carmen, even if he wasn't initially aware of it haha. One of the most moving things to me about the series is how all of the different factions come to Carmen's rescue at the end when she's not "in her right mind," without knowing the others are there too. It's a massive group effort to bring back the Carmen they love. But we weren't looking for a fairy tale ending for Carmen with ANYone - Carmen's a classic lone wolf anti-hero, that goes with the territory. At least at this stage in her journey.

PizzaHorse:

Were there other locations that you wanted to feature in the show that didn't make it?

Duane Capizzi:

I think we managed to cover a lot of ground and "cadence" between different countries/cultures/continents was important to us. Many "iconic" locations of course, and it would have been nice to explore some lesser known locations if we had more episodes.

One that we almost did was Niagara Falls, Canada - actually literally going to the Falls and doing a big hydro-electric caper, where Player could actually get into the field with Carmen and the team.

But ultimately, we wound up bringing Player into the fold the way we did and wound up stronger as a result. It made his "first face to face" with Carmen even more impactful, IMO.

PizzaHorse:

Were there any changes in production between the first half and the second half of the series?

Duane Capizzi:

Well, there was that Covid thing

But while it was no doubt a colossal undertaking to get the entire staff transitioned to work from home (animators! and their equipment!), we managed to make up for lost time WITHOUT a dip in animation quality. My fedora's off to our amazing team at Wildbrain for pulling it off!

We did lose some staff between orders, but that is a natural part of production unfortunately. Namely, one of our episodic directors Kenny Park, our first storyboard artist Dennis Crawford, and our story editor May Chan were among those who moved on to other shows during the break. But, as hard as their shoes were to fill, fill them we did!

PizzaHorse:

What is your favorite season?

Duane Capizzi:

Easy. Hands down, Season 3.

(crickets)

KIDDING!

Again, another "they're all my babies" answer (and yes, I love Season 3 equally

It's hard, because really when you step back I'm sure you'll agree it's a series, with stand alone capers; but it's really all ONE BIG MOVIE.

Season 3 is like the scherzo of a symphony: the shortest movement of four, and the one that tees up the big finale.

That's my hoity toity answer but I'm going to put to rest all of the various theories on what happened with season 3. It was a combination of two things: Netflix's desire to experiment with different ways of "dropping" seasons, and their desire to do a holiday themed drop (in this case Halloween, naturally). It became our challenge to come up with a theme (easy enough: masks), and the bigger challenge to serve their need while not interrupting our ongoing narrative. A challenge to be sure, but a challenge met. I think the biggest bump was perception: it was a short season and I know that was disappointing to many. But, by design.

So, Season 3 = an essential part of the whole. I don't think there's a wasted episode, and it gets everyone into position for the big finish. I can't pick a favorite season - you can't make me

PizzaHorse:

Were there any characters you had wanted to give more time to but couldn't due to time/plot restraints?

Duane Capizzi:

Well, there's the "what was on the white board" answer but hopefully some of those ideas will see the light of day in some way, shape or form some day. I think if we had more episodes, we would have shaken up the internal dynamic of VILE a bit more (as hinted at Brunt's displeasure with Maelstrom for leaving her hanging out to dry at end of 405 - a seed we planted "just in case," as some have noted). And we had more scenes in mind with Chase's partnering with Carmen for the first time that we had to cut to the bone because of what little room we had in that otherwise packed episode (worry not: it's mostly more gags, more embellishment, more twists and turns - but the important stuff is there). Mostly, and I don't think it would have been right for Season 4 but I hope to tell in the future, I think there's an interesting history between Shadowsan and Lady Dokuso - possibly tragic - that I would love to explore one day. (She was a cameo in Duke of Vermeer at the dinner party BTW, I'm not sure if anyone noticed. And we built a bigger role for her out of that)

PizzaHorse:

What are some pre-2000/nostalgic Carmen references you snuck into the show? Do you have a favorite reference that was included?

Duane Capizzi:

Doing that was so much fun! I'd say roughly 60% of the characters were from previous iterations of Carmen, though often in name only. We had fun reimagining most everyone to make them more relevant or updated or giving them a more colorful personality for starters.

"Suhara" was Carmen's Japanese mentor when she worked at the ACME Agency in a flashback episode in the 90's series, for instance. I don't think I need to spell out how we turned that one inside out

And Tigress was also one episode only: she was a "rival thief" to Carmen, but revealed to be an ACME agent in disguise - a persona created solely to bait Carmen. It was really cool of course, but it seemed like untapped potential so we made her an ACTUAL Vile Thief.

My own internal rule was to make sure the references/easter eggs wouldn't confuse anyone - they were there for those who were in the loop and window dressing. The one and only time i broke that rule was Dark Carmen's line from 407: "I do it for the mental gymnastics." It was one of the most absurd lines from the 90's series (IMO) and i was determined to have it come out of Dark Carmen's mouth. I'm sure it left some 7 year olds scratching their heads

aside from that, the key references were the music: I still tingle at how we worked the Rockapella theme into the Interactive Special; and the 90's main title theme (composed by Mozart!), in our Vienna episode ("They're playing my song"). If you wanted Rockapella or Carmen as a bad guy, well ... be careful what you wish for!

PizzaHorse:

Was there any improvised content from recording sessions that made it into any episodes?

Duane Capizzi:

Yes! Not much, because a lot of it would have pushed us into TV-MA haha

Mostly Mary Elizabeth - Coach Brunt has a POTTY MOUTH!

Mikey and Abby usually riffed their banter WAY beyond what was on the written page and had us in stitches. Some bits definitely made it in! But mostly there was too much or it would get off point (hmmm, much like my interview answers maybe? haha)

Sharon Muthu did rise to Pun Goddess status with "Mask and you shall receive." And Raf pitched me "Chasse means hunt in French" after one session and I said: "I'm going to write that in." I don't think he believed me. You can't say I'm not a straight shooter.

PizzaHorse:

If you could get more season, would you do it, and what type of story would you tell?

Duane Capizzi:

Well if that hasn't been clear so far, ABSOLUTELY

There have been discussions of course. It's up to the powers that be at this point. I will say this: the beauty and tradition so far has been that every iteration has been its own thing. I definitely think there are more "different canon" versions of Carmen that can be had and be a part of this wonderful tradition. After all, there were many naysayers for our version when it was first announced.

I will also say that if we don't get to tell any more stories in this canon with these characters, we've left a perfect gem that will stand the test of time. I would rather go out on a high note than overstay our welcome.

All that said, we worked within the allotted episodes given, ended it as we wished, but left the door open for other stories. I'd love to do an expansion and a deepening: pick up where we left off; find out what happened in those two years; and proceed to do the equivalent of Godfather II or Better Call Saul as related to the amazing originals they followed.

Let's hope! Keep putting good vibes out there!

PizzaHorse:

If you could pick a character on Carmen Sandiego who'd you switch places with for a day (you get to control their life and they get to control yours) who would you pick, and why?

Duane Capizzi:

Okay, THIS is difficult. So you're going Freaky Friday on me?

on a Sunday?

Hmmm, I know Ivy would get along with my cat ... but then I'd have to hang out with Zack!

That's the trick: I can't pick my favorites cuz I couldn't hang out with them!

(not that I have favorites - they're all my babies haha)

Okay, I have one: ROUNDABOUT. I could fill Shadowsan's seat - how cool is that? Then, I could enact all my evil fantasies - but still have a get out of jail free card cuz he'd be sitting at my desk!

(cut to Duane being brain wiped - D'oh!)

PizzaHorse:

Who are two characters who don't really interact in the show that you think could be good friends or work really well together?

Duane Capizzi:

Hmmmm. Okay, now I'm going to give you quick and sassy answers. Gray and Julia! They'd be so cute banding together to rescue captive Carmen (for instance). And they could also duke it out and maybe settle things between themselves re: shipping controversies instead of dragging me into it

PizzaHorse:

The FINAL QUESTION. Have you learned anything super impactful while working on the show?

Duane Capizzi:

Aside from Iceland's terrifically low crime rate?

I think I have learned to never underestimate how meaningful characters can be to fans. Social media has obviously brought us a lot closer to our fan base in more immediate ways: it's been really gratifying to hear/see/read feedback and not be writing things in a vacuum. It's been gratifying to see that ideas that were meaningful to myself and the creative team on Carmen that were crafted with care, have also resonated with our fan base. THANK YOU TO EVERYONE who has traveled on this journey with us - for embracing Carmen's world view, and her friends and foes alike. Take care everyone! Stay safe! This has been fun, thanks for having me!

PizzaHorse:

HUGE thank you to Duane Capizzi: for being here today.

Thank you everyone for watching and reacting!

Duane Capizzi:

Okay, gotta run - just gotta find the door

Anyway, really: THIS HAS BEEN AMAZING. I speak for everyone involved in the creation and production of Carmen: it has been an amazing and inspiring series and we're elated to see it connect with such a CREATIVE, TALENTED and INTELLIGENT fan base. Take care everyone! Until next crime...

[slater-later]

Clarence x Reader Flirt at the Bar

Audience: General

Warnings: None, flirting

Notes: At Y/N, insert your own name, pronouns, and preferred complimentary words. That way, Clarence uses what you like!

Read below the cuff!

For: @da3m0ns-exe

The two of you had met at an Irish pub a few blocks down the street. Dimly lit under the cheap green ‘chandeliers’, at least, they were trying to be, hanging over a narrow line of booths. A green shamrock sign buzzing in the corner window, listing O’ Conners next to the four leafed sign buzzing beside it.

It was a fine dump, gritty and warm and thick with cigarette smoke. A few old geezers sat at the bar, buzzing back large thick dark beers as they chatted in Greek. It was Detroit after all, and everyone was welcome. The D brought everyone together. And if you had a few bucks to spare, it would make your night worth while. The jukebox buzzed in the corner, firmly set from the 70’s and stacked high with classic 45’s. A quarter would get you two songs, and it would flip through the rest. Buzzing Marvin Gaye’s Through the Grape Vine through the open speakers. There were a few TV’s in the corner of the bar, one showing a Tigers baseball game and the other the racetrack. A chestnut filly bending over the corner and splitting from the pack. Her jockey lit a firecracker from out under her behind as he rode her to the front, cracking his crop as they crossed the finish line. Taking home 50k- something a brod in the corner was upset by. Throwing her hands up as she watched, swearing! Because she had bet the bar that #5 would win. California Folly, the chestnut mare, bit her for the win, and she slapped up her cash to the house. Her buddy chuckled to himself at her anger. The bartender greedily took her cash, smirking, as he slipped it into the cash register. He changed the chalk boards odds for the next race. A commercial flashed across the screen.

It was a bettin’ bar, and it was a Friday night. That meant, the race tracks were on. They even caught the signal from the tracks out West. Meaning people could get drunk and lose their money all night long. At least, far enough into the night to be firmly fucked by 10, and either pissed from losing their money or giddy because they made a decent buck. Either way, it meant the crowd pounded back drinks. The bar took home a load whether it was packed full or filled with crickets. 

Clarence was seated up at the bar, his army jacket slipped off and hanging on his chair. He slowly leafed through his comic, head buried deep in his book. He slowly drank, the rum and coke sitting at the edge of his lips, relaxed and quiet after a long day at work. 

He had closed up shop and came in for dinner, a burger and fries, and read the newest edition of Deadpool in his freetime. He actually had a small stack of them next to them. He had cashed his check and sorted the freshly delivered boxes before he locked up. Making a mental note to pay the old man in the morning- he would stuff the bills in the register tomorrow morning.

The new stuff sold fast, and that was exactly why he needed to make his pick before it hit the shelves. He had to be strategic! Take advantage of the perks of running the store!

You slid into the stool a few spots down, gesturing over to the bartender as he made his way over. He was built, wearing a plain black shirt that hung over his body. A gold chain that hung from his neck. He looked kind and quiet, gentle. He had worked there for several years.

“Whatcha’ having?”

  “Pabst,” You nodded, popping out your wallet.

“Pint or pitcher?”

“Pint.”

“Alright, but they’re $7 until 11.” He collected your cash and made his way up the bar, pouring your drink.

Clarence’s nose was in the comic, one hand holding the bridge of it while the other slowly set down the beer. Reaching out for a fry and mindlessly dabbing it into ketchup before it crawled to his mouth. Slowly inching closer. 

His long and shabby fry broke off, falling into his lap and getting on his jeans. You couldn’t help but to laugh. “You okay over there bud?” The bartender handed you your beer, curling in the glass as you took a sip. The foam made a fine mustache on your upper lip.

“Jesus!” He bit, pissed. He had just gotten to a good spot- he fucking didn’t want to stop! “I don’t know man.” He shook his head, nabbing a handful of napkins out of the dispenser and cleaning his lap. 

He finally looked up as you set down your glass. Catching the side of your face- “I ain’t pulin’ your chain, but ya got somethin’ on your face,” He grabbed another handful, passing it over. “A lil’ on here,'' He rubbed his upper lip, brushing his faint five o’ clock shadow.

You grabbed a napkin from him, quickly wiping it away before you got too embarrassed. Shit happens. “Thanks,” You muttered with a smile, softly laughing. Folding it afterwards and placing it under your glass. 

He nodded, reaching for his comic again. 

You were in a good mood and company always made it better. You had the urge to chat, he was attractive, after all. “So, whatcha readin’?”

He looked over, eyebrows raised. “It’s uh, Deadpool. Issue #7,” He put his thumb on the page and flopped it over to the front. Reaching out his arm to show you the cover. “It’ll hit the shelves tomorrow.”

“How’d you get your hands on that?”

“Oh,” He flashed a guilty smile. Caught. “I work at the comic book store down the street, this is next week's issue,” The cover showed Deadpool stepping forward, gun in hand, his red and black latex suite dressed with a heavy white jeweled overcoat and flashing plants. He was wearing the iconic Evil Presley suit, black wig and sunglasses and all. Finger-pointing at a very unpleasant Cable, probably cursing Wade for being alive. Or was it that he can’t die?

“It’s the new Deadpool and Cable issue. It’s a new series they’re doing, do you wanna look?” He offered it and you happily accepted. Taking your time as you flipped through the pages, reading the inside insert. The introduction.

He rattled on, “It’s not as good as some of his other series but then I saw the front cover. I wanted to grab it before we ran out. I’m a big Elvis fan,” He smiled softly. Watching you read.

“Oh?” You peered up, raising an eyebrow. A hook- Elvis wasn’t exactly your man, but it didn’t deter you. “Is he your favorite?”

He beamed as he sipped his glass, nodding as the glass left his lips, setting it down on the wet napkin. “Favorite? It doesn’t begin to describe how much I love that man,” He could rattle on for forever. Even blab again about how much he wanted to fuck Elvis. But, usually, that wasn’t the most widely loved small talk conversation? He was better off tabling that conversation for a later time. Unless he wanted to blow his chance when flirting with a hot person. A man needed to get lucky sometimes, alright? Sheesh, he didn’t think some bisexuality was a bad thing. Isn’t that, a, you know? A sexual fantasy for some folks?

He drilled a finger into the side of his temple, elbow up on the bar as he watched you. How your feet shifted in your sift as you curled up closer to him, leaning in, tenderly turning the page of a secretly, newly loved comic. Mashing up the two things that made him bounce up and down with pure excitement. He was delighted.

“I’m a huge fan, I’ve always been since I was a kid. My dad used to listen to him while I was growing up, and I’ve had the itch ever since. He changed rock n’ roll forever, for the better,” He would watch old tapes of his dancing and performing on stage, having become familiar and comforting to his body. It was something he could return to, regardless of how he felt, and know he felt comfort in.

That, and watching him dance up on stage was light lightening. A friend and a lover.

“What’s your favorite song?” You smirked, flipping a page. You were more interested in his eyes than the panel. Wondering if he had caught on. 

He slid from his seat to the one next to you, dragging his beer along with him. The bartender snapped up his long forgotten dinner. Wiping down the table. “Do you mind?” He gestured to the seat, checking in.

“No,” You shook your head smiling, your delight so easy to read. “Not at all,” You swore you could feel your heart skip a beat. Your body felt fresh, warmed by the flash of heat spreading through your cheeks. You hoped another drink of your beer would help, at least to calm the giddy building up inside of you.

You would cut yourself off at two beers. At the rate of your drinking, you’d been in the hole after three. Too drunk to drive and by the soft patter of the rain outside, you didn’t want to be stuck in the rain. Trying to wave down a cab as it poured, head buzzed and tired, ready to flop down in your bed and forced to make it back. Getting fucked up was fun, but getting home could be a challenge.

  The thought already sounded miserable. You’d much rather be here, with the jukebox, under the warm hum of the bear and its speakers. It switched over to You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine by Lou Rawls. 

“Good,” He smiled with a surprising amount of soft charm. Voice low as his pinky mused with his lip, eyes slow as they took in your body. 

He had to look away. 

FUCK! It wasn’t polite to do that shit, he was either going to get a drink thrown in his face again or something!

He kept his eyes up at the bar, tongue flashing across his teeth as he chuckled to his mind. He could be so fucking stupid! This Y/N was going to beat him. 

He fisted for his cigs in his flannel pocket, offering you one.

Okay, this guy was an idiot, but a cute one.

“Thanks,” You took a cig and slipped it between the side of your lips. Grabbing  your lighter in your coat pocket, prepared as a common smoker should. You lit both of your cigarettes.

“So, you didn’t answer my question,” You shot, releasing a draw downward. 

He snapped it out of his mouth, square in hand as he shook his head awake. “Shit, what was it again?” He laughed, he was losing his head around you. You sucked all the smarts out of his brain.

You elbowed him lightly, amused. “What’s your favorite Elvis song?”

He paused for a moment, getting his mind in gear. Quickly shuffling the different songs on his head- “Hound Dog, and then Blue Suede Shoes, and All Shook Up,” It was the fast, catchy beats of Elvis’s drawl that got him. The electricity that he exuded, that made him want to dance and grab the hand of a friend, a stranger, even an old person! 

It made him want to boogie to the music.

You snickered, he hit right on the money. Damn, this guy had taste. Of the few you knew well, those were it. “Where does Jailhouse Rock rank?”

“8th,” He said clear as day, pointent. It was clearly not his favorite, but a hot contender. He had, in fact, listened to every single god damn song Elvis had published. Including the Hawaiian soundtrack album, which was a partial wash. He thought Elvis was at best when he was shaking it for a crowd, not trying to play at movie making. Yet, it hadn’t stopped him from consuming them all. “I paused not because I didn’t have a top three, but because…” Shit, he got himself in a hole? Wasn’t he playing the ‘cool guy’ really well?

“Because?” You flicked into the ashtray, bringing your arm in for a draw. Raising your eyebrows at him as you drew, feeling the air.

“Because I was thinking about you,” He slipped both elbows on the bar, facing forward towards the line of liquor and head turned towards you. Smirk painted on his lips, shameless in his expression, “You’re very Y/N.” He smiled, eyes stilling on you as they peered into yours eyes, then passed down your shoulder. “And I don’t normally get to talk to a Y/N like you.” Usually, they either weren’t interested in talking about comics and Elvis. So, what was there to talk about? Stupid small talk they he didn’t know much about? It was much harder, trying to find a Y/N with similar interests.

Your face felt warm again. You finished off the rest of your drink. Quenching your fuzzy head with the sharp inhale of nicotine, trying to peel the flush off of your cheeks. You couldn’t hide it- his soft pink lips looked beautiful when they moved. Especially when they were saying such sweet words.

You slicked a hand across your face, hiding the bite of your red cheeks, “How about we get a booth in the corner? And you tell me a bit more about yourself?” It seemed like a good idea. And it would give you a moment, to collect yourself, before continuing your chat.

You raised a hand to the bartender. He turned and you held up two fingers. A pint for you each. 

“Hmph!” His spiky eyebrows peaked up, elated. “Sounds good to me!” He snickered, collecting his stack of comics and waiting for the drinks to come. You two stepped to the back to back of the bar, sliding in next to each other at the dark spot in the room. A place, where neither of you would be bothered. Holed up, until the bar closes, chatting about sweet nothing while you got to know each other. Maybe get, caught in the rain together, under his umbrella. Before turning in, to his apartment. 

It was, in fact, closer than your apartment.

[writing-mermaid]

Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree

Summary : Sonny, Y/N and Stella are decorating the Christmas tree.

Pairing : Sonny Carisi x reader

Warnings : None, it’s just pure fluff.

Word Count : 1 857

Author’s note : Written for @thatesqcrush​‘s Holiday B!ngo: Naughty & Nice filling the squares tree lighting and decorating. Don’t forget that feedback is appreciated and really important.

Song of the title : Blue Christmas - Kelly Clarkson

Masterlist

The Carisi family masterlist

Buy me a ☕

“Come on daddy, hurry up !!!”, Stella shouts, entering the living room, Sonny following her, his arms full of boxes.

“Stella, calm down please”, I say, exiting the bathroom.

“Sorry mommy”, my four years old replies settling down on the floor.

“Everything is here normally”, Sonny states, putting the boxes down. “Christmas tree, decorations, lightings, Santa’s figurine, the snowman, the reindeers.”

  He opens the first box and puts a Christmas tree bulb on the table. This one bulb is special, that’s the one from Stella’s first Christmas, as blue as her eyes, made of glass, with her name on it and stars all around. Stella, our little star, the light of our lives.

  “Maybe you should open the box with the tree first, babe”, I say, while Sonny takes other decorations from the box.

“You’re right, we better put the tree first. Same place as usual ?”

“Of course, in the alcove between the rooms”, I say, showing him the nook in the wall where Stella plays.

  From the very first Christmas we spent here, the tree has its place there. That way, it’s not in the middle of the room and it was more convenient when Stella learned to walk, there was no risk that the tree fell on her.

  “Your wishes are my commands”, he winks. “Stella, come and help daddy please, principessa.”

“Si papa”, she rises on her feet and follows her dad to the nook.

  Four years old and she already understands three languages and speaking a few words of two of them. Sonny starts to drag the long box containing the tree to the other side of the room, pretending it’s too heavy for him, doing like he needs our daughter to help him.

  “It’s not heavy daddy, look that’s very light”, Stella giggles.

“No, no look, it’s too heavy, I don’t have enough strength”, he says, pretending to pull the box and not managing to move it, making Stella’s giggles intensify.

“But daddy, you’re a cop, cop are supposed to be burly”, she states, very seriously.

“No baby, your mommy is the cop at home now, I’m an ADA, you remember, so I lost my strength”, Sonny lies on the ground, pretending to be exhausted.

“So, we should ask mommy to lift it because she’s the burly one now.”

  Her comment makes me laugh. She’s still adjusting to Sonny not being a cop anymore, even if he became the state’s ADA for a little more than a year now and that she decorated his brand new office with some drawings and there’s a picture of us three on his desk.

  “I’m not that burly baby, pursuing criminals doesn’t make me burlier, it makes me more tired every day, and I’m barely in my early-thirties”, I sigh.

  Stella looks at me, blinking her big blue eyes.

  “Mommy is kidding baby”, I say, approaching her and ruffling her Y/H/C hair. “Let’s see if I’m stronger than daddy.”

  I grab the handle of the box and lift it easily.

  “Wow, mummy, you’re so strong”, Stella beams at me, impressed. “Now you should help daddy to get up again !”

“Are you really sure I should help daddy ?”

“Yes !”, she nods. “He has to build the tree.”

“Ok then. Come on daddy give me your hand”, I extend my hand to Sonny’s big one, while still having the Christmas tree in my other hand. “Oh, your daddy is too weighty, Stella help, I can’t lift him”, I gasp.

“Come on daddy, get up”, our little girl goes behind him and pushes on his back, while I pull him.

  Sonny plays the game and finally gets up from the floor.

  “Thank you, Stella and mummy, I couldn’t stand up without your help.”

  Oh, he’s good at it, playing with Stella, making her laugh. Well, he has some practice thanks to his sisters’ kids. Fatherhood came so naturally to Sonny. I always knew that he would make an amazing father from the first moment I saw him with a child, and when we knew I was pregnant, he was thrilled. And I will never regret having a child with that lanky man. God, even with that awful mustache of his, he managed to seduce me.

  “Come on, let’s make the tree”, Stella starts to whine, pulling on her dad’s hand.

“Alright, alright, we’re making it”, Sonny answers, scooping Stella into his arms and walking to the nook, while I follow him with the box.

  I put the box down and open it to take out the different pieces of the tree. Sonny starts to assemble them under the sparkling gaze of Stella.

  “Y/N, babe, can you bring the decoration boxes here whilst I assemble the tree please ?”

“Sure”, I say walking to the table.

  I’m about to pick the box on the table, when I see Stella approaching her father with a Santa hat in her little hands. She covers Sonny’s head with it and both of them erupt of laughter. I take my phone out of my jean’s pocket, immortalizing that tender moment between my fiancé and our daughter. Sonny, his Santa hat still on his head, resumes to his assembling of the tree, Stella giving him the different pieces. I go back to them, the ornaments box in my arm, without forgetting Stella’s bulb on the table.

  “The tree is up”, Sonny says, standing up. “We just have to put the decorations on”, he adds, whipping his hands on his jeans.

“What color should we put on the tree ?”, I ask.

“Red !”, Stella states seriously as if all Christmas depends on the color of the decorations we put on the tree.

“So red it is”, Sonny opens wide the box I just put down next to him.

  He takes a few silver garlands out of the box and put them aside, with the matching bulbs. Silver was last year’s choice. But, even if this year decorations are red, there’ll be a touch of blue with Stella’s bulb.

“Why red this year baby ?”, I question her.

“Because at school we are learning the song Blue Christmas and the singer says ‘decorations or red on a green tree’. Miss Downey says that the singer’s name is Lis Pacey.”

“Elvis Presley baby”, Sonny corrects, “but, did you know that mom’s favorite singer covered it in a Christmas record ?”, Stella shakes her head, meaning that she doesn’t know.

  He smiles at me. I know that talking about Kelly Clarkson reminds him our very first date. He took me to her New York gig, and I highly suspect Amanda to have told him I was a huge fan and suggesting the concert as a perfect first date. Well, of course it was perfect because we wouldn’t be here six years later, and Stella would never have been born.

  “Here they are, the red decorations”, Sonny says with a smile of triumph, removing the piece of card separating the box in two.

“Yay !!!!”, Stella shouts, diving in the card, her little body half disappearing in it, and she reappears, barely two seconds later, a big red garland wrapped around her neck like a boa.

  She starts to walk in the room, laughing, twirling a part of the garland and silly dancing on her already long legs. That child will probably be as tall as her father. Sonny looks at her in awe, I’m still amazed at how much he loves her.

  “I’m going to look in the other boxes if I find the red string lights and the top star”, I peck his cheek, making him snap back from his staring state to take the decorations out of the box.

“Do you realize that we actually made that little human ?”, he says, his eyes not leaving Stella’s little frame.

“Every day since the moment she first kicked me when she was still in my womb”, I tell him while turning back to the rest of the boxes.

  I open one the other boxes by the dining table and find the figurines. Santa, snowmen, reindeers, even Stella’s Frozen figurines that she insists to put by the tree ‘because they live in Santa’s country’. They don’t really but we don’t want to upset her for now. I open another box. Wrong choice, this one contain table decorations. So, it must be in the last box. This time is the good one, the lights are here, with the red star.

  “We didn’t label the lights, I don’t know which one is what color, we’ll have to try them all”, I sigh.

  And obviously, after testing all of them, the red one finally pops up in the mess of string lights that snake around me.

  “Got it !”, I shout in victory. “We need to label it red when we put it back in the box after the holidays”, I add, rising on my feet, putting all the other lights aside.

  I go back to Stella and Sonny, who’s untangling a red garland full of knots.

  “We should really learn to put those away in a better way. Each year it’s the same thing.”

  I just nod. Sonny gets up and starts to wrap the red garland around the tree.

  “You should put this one before the others”, I say, handing him the Christmas lights.

“Lights first daddy”, Stella states very seriously, nodding with her hand under her chin, something she probably saw that on tv.

“Yes ma’am”, Sonny salutes, removing the red garland from the tree and it makes me chuckle.

  He takes the Christmas lights from my hands and start to wind it around the tree, from the top to the bottom, taking care to hide the wire behind the tree next to the plug. Next, he grabs the red garland and wraps it around the tree, and then he puts three more, the last being the one around Stella.

  “I think that’s enough garlands. Let’s put the bulbs.”

  Stella doesn’t even wait for us to take a first bulb and puts it on the tree. When she takes another one, Sonny lifts her in his arms so she can put a bulb higher. After a few minutes, the tree is all decorated except for the star at the top.

  “Ok, now the most important part”, Sonny says, grabbing Stella under her arms to lift her higher than earlier, while I hand her the star. “Put it on top baby.”

  Stella takes the star from my hands delicately and puts it gently on top of the tree. When Sonny puts her down, he tenderly kisses her forehead. When her feet hit the floor, she runs to me and hugs my legs tight. I crouch down to take her in my arms before rising up with her, hugging her tightly.

  “And now ladies, the highlight of the show !”, Sonny turns off the light and plugs the string lights.

  When the plug enters its hole, the tree lights itself and Sonny walks back to stand next to us, sliding his arm around my shoulders, Stella watching in awe the green tree and its red lights.

Taglist :

@castiel-enthusiast​, @storiesofsvu​, @the16thprecinct​, @svu-ncis-criminalminds​, @australiancarisi​, @teamsladsandgents​, @thatesqcrush​, @caplanreads​,

[willow-salix]

Fluffember prompt: Feathers (vaguely, and with a dash of Rainbow)

Day 13 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

“OK, who threw that pencil at me?” Scott demanded to know. No one owned up. Honestly I didn’t even see where it had come from let alone who threw it. 

“No clue,” I answered.

“I’m gonna find out,” he growled. “I could have been badly hurt!”

I sniggered to myself, for a real life action hero Scott could be so dramatic sometimes, and didn’t bother looking up from the latest copy of ‘Better Gnomes and Gardens: Witches Weekly’ that I was flicking through.

“Seriously, that could have taken my eye out, it’s like a miniature stake,” he continued to grumble.

“Talking of stakes,” I started, trying to distract him so that he didn’t go off on a ranting tangent about the danger of flying pencil projectiles, “there’s been a development with the Highgate Vampire, he’s been spotted again. Seriously, what more can this crazy year throw at us? Don’t answer that,” I warned John before he could even utter a word. I know my boy and I know that he was about to throw out some highly logical statistic or another that would make complete sense but would make me want to cry.

“Highgate Vampire?” Scott asked, distracted as I'd hoped he would be. My evil plan had worked. I turned my magazine to show him the article. “You remember, when we tried out that new ka- pub,” I corrected myself, aware of just how many of his brothers were crowded around. “We walked past the cemetery and I told you all about the legend of the Highgate Vampire.”

Scott looked blank, which is a look I’m used to seeing on him, I gotta be honest, he barely ever listens to me. “You know, I told you the story of how, back in the 1970’s a group of ghost hunters decided to try to find a vampire that supposedly lived there?”

He shook his head. 

“Self appointed bishop vampire hunter dude?” I tried again.

“Oh, yes! I remember him. He’s back?”

"Who?" 

"The Bishop."

"No, he's dead, the vampire."

"The vampire killed him?"

"The Bishop is dead of natural causes, and the vampire has been seen again," John supplied. 

“Yes," I agreed." Apparently so, and they’re blaming him for this virus outbreak.”

Everyone went quiet for a second, not sure what to say to that. John reached out a hand and I passed over the magazine so he could read it for himself. 

“Why do you read this rubbish?” he asked after perusing the rest of its offerings.

“Why wouldn’t I want to know that blue aliens brought Elvis into that lady’s garden?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” he told me honestly, handing the magazine back to me.

“Do you remember that time that Virgil thought he was a vampire?” Scott suddenly asked him.

“Oh, God, yes. I hadn’t thought of that in years,” John laughed.

“Wait? He what now? There were vampires involved? Why was I never told about this? This is my one area of expertise and you've been holding out on me?”

“I did not think I was a vampire,” Virgil corrected them. “Our high school math teacher did.”

I tossed the magazine aside, this was far more entertaining than anything I’d find in there.

“Spill,” I demanded.

“It’s really not that interesting a story,” Virgil insisted, trying valiantly to deflect us.

“He was a sophomore, so about fifteen years old,” Scott started, dodging out of the way when Virgil threw a pen at him this time. Scott narrowed his eyes, like he wasn’t sure if that was proof that he had been the perpetrator of the pencil or not. Virgil, for his part, looked innocent. Pen, what pen? I saw no pen? What even is a pen? Isn’t that something you put pigs in?

“And he had to have two of his back teeth out due to overcrowding,” John continued, grabbing me and yanking me onto his lap, using me as a human shield when Virgil lifted his sketch pad threateningly.

“I’m so glad I married such a brave rescuer,” I deadpanned as John continued to hide behind me. "My hero."

“I was driving him back from the dentist and he was still a little out of it from the sedation they had given him,” Scott took up the tale.

“I’m just not a big fan of the dentist, OK?” Virgil defended himself. "They have to sedate me."

“His gums were still bleeding and he’d spat the gauze out within a minute of getting out of there,” John continued, ducking back behind me when Virgil glared at him.

“They’re going to tell it anyway,” I told him, “so why don’t you do it instead?”

Virgil nodded, seeing the wiseness in my words.

“My gums were bleeding but I didn’t know what to do with it all, I didn’t want to swallow it and to be honest, I was still pretty woozy, so I just kinda let the blood collect in my mouth.”

“Aww, that must have sucked, babe, I’m sorry.”

He nodded at me in thanks for my sympathy, something he was NOT getting from his brothers.

“We stopped at some lights and by that point my mouth was getting pretty full-”

“He was drooling like Alan at nap time,” Scott butted in.

“Did you not give him a tissue or something?”

“No, he was evil.”

“I was driving and I don’t carry things like that on me as standard,” Scott argued.

“I’ll pick you up if anything like that happens again,” I promised the big guy. “For girls our cars are like an extension of our house or our handbags, there's tissues, lip balms, snacks, bottles of water, everything.”

“Thank you,” Virgil sniffed, casting Scott a smug look, knowing I was firmly on his side.

“So, how is this vampire related?” I had to ask, I mean, I was sympathetic but I was also nosey as hell.

“I wound down the window as we stopped at the light,” Virgil continued. “And I...well, I was still a bit muddled…”

“He opened his mouth and all this blood came oozing out, it just dribbled everywhere,” Scott  practically yelled, bursting out laughing.

“Why are you laughing, you evil thing?”

“Because,” John piped up from behind the shelter of my person, “the car next to Scott’s was Mrs Beddleman’s. Virgil, recognising her, breaks out into this wide, goofy and completely bloody, smile.”

“She looked absolutely horrified and even though she wasn’t going that direction she turned right to get away from us. She was a very religious lady and she took to wearing a cross to school for the rest of the year until I left her class.”

“And she moved his seat to one beside the window,” Scott howled, doubled over laughing.

I bit my lip, trying very hard not to laugh.

“It’s OK,” Virgil sighed, “you can laugh.”

“I don’t want to,” I told him as seriously as I could. “But I really don’t think I can help it.”

I made the fatal mistake then, I glanced at Scott who was at the point of silently laughing, his body shaking and I cracked.

“It’s not like I’m the only one that had bad anesthesia reactions,” Virgil said slyly and I snapped to attention.

“Are you not?” 

“Nope,” he shook his head, grinning now. “We’ve all had broken bones and hospital stays over the years.”

“Oh, oh, tell me a Scott one!”

“He had an appendectomy when he was twenty. He was taken in for day surgery and when he woke up he was completely coherent,” Virgil started.

“He was?” Knocked out Scott had to be different to sedated Scott, because sedated Scott was hilarious and very snuggly. 

“What can I say, I have a strong constitution,” Scott preened.

“He’s lying,” Virgil continued. “He was talking normally, answering questions and the doctor said he was doing great and could go. He was starving, hadn't eaten since the night before and he insisted that the only thing he would eat was Chinese food, and it had to be a buffet, nothing else would do."

"I mean, he's not wrong, there is nothing like a good Chinese," I agreed. 

"Well, it appeared that he hadn't been as recovered as we thought he was."

"What happened?" 

"I came round from the anesthesia sitting in the restaurant and as far as I knew I'd just gone under in the operating room and I'd woken up with a plate of chicken teriyaki on a stick in front of me."

John sniggered, muffling his laughter against my shoulder.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” Scott huffed. “Have you forgotten about when you had your tonsillectomy?” 

“That was not my fault,” John mumbled, clearly regretting his previous amusement.

“Oh gods, what did you do?” I asked him, turning my head to look at him over my shoulder.

“Nothing! I was just talking to the anesthesiologist.”

“The anesthesiologist was new to the hospital so hadn’t met any of us before,” Virgil started.

“Do I take it that you all had frequent user passes? Like buy ten ops and get the eleventh free?” 

“Pretty much,” Scott shrugged, unashamed of just how bad that sounded. “So John’s there, being himself, talking to the surgeon and anesthesiologist about the operation and what they were planning, how long it would take, telling them what they needed to do, that sort of thing-”

“I like to know what to expect,” John defended himself.

“Swot,” Gordon teased, coming in at the tail end of John’s mini rant, Alan trailing along behind him.

“It’s not a bad thing to want to go into a situation with full knowledge of it. Research and a game plan are only sensible. How do you expect to get good at something if you don’t know the mechanics behind it?” He glanced around at his brothers who looked less than convinced. “You know you’ve all been grateful for my expertise more than once.”

“I know I have,” I agreed, ignoring the raised eyebrows that came my way. Let them think dirty things, that was their problem. I received a small kiss to the side of my neck thanks for my support so I’m not going to complain.

“So, what were you guys talking about?” Gordon asked, flopping down on the couch beside Virgil.

“They were sharing with me their tales of woe under the effects of anesthesia and sedation,” I informed him.

“Oh, yes, we’ve all got those,” Gordon agreed. “Which one was John telling?”

“The time when he had his tonsils removed,” Scott helpfully supplied.

“I don’t remember it,” Gordon frowned.

“Neither do I,” Alan added.

“He was talking to the anesthetist, we got that far,” I said.

“He was talking to him as they were asking him to count down from a hundred,” Virgil continued.

“I only remember getting to ninety-one,” John told me.

“We were outside in the relatives room, waiting for him to be taken to recovery,” Scott took up the tale. “We had only been in there about fifteen minutes when the anesthesiologist and a nurse came out looking like they had seen a ghost.”

“Dad stepped up and demanded to know what the problem was and if John was OK,” Virgil said. “It turned out that John had been far more coherent than he remembered and hadn’t stopped counting at ninety-one.”

“He’d gotten to sixty-two but when he reached eighty-nine he’d apparently switched to fluent Japanese, and then started talking about a wakizashi, that and asking them about their day.”

“A what now?” 

“A small, fourteenth century Japanese sword,” John supplied.

“The anesthesiologist was actually Japanese and he had apparently called three of his peers in the ten minutes that John had been under to ask how it was possible that this Caucasian, american teenager was suddenly speaking in fluent Japanese under the influence or anesthesia.”

“It took Dad a good five minutes of solid laughter to finally tell them that they hadn’t broken John or damaged his brain in any way, he was actually fluent already,” Scott laughed.

“Apparently he gave them the biggest scare they had ever had in more than twenty years,” Virgil finished.

“I was obviously being considerate and had thought that it was more polite to talk to him in his own language rather than English,” John sniffed, crossing his arms around my waist. “I don’t see what the big deal was.”

“I’m just impressed that you were speaking it fluently at all,” I said, earning a gentle finger flick as punishment for ever doubting him. “I meant that I can only speak three languages fluently, English, bad English and Sarcasm, so anyone that can do anything else is just amazing to me,” I quickly defended myself.

“Sarcasm is your native tongue,” John mumbled. I ignored him.

“He’s mostly self taught too,” Scott added, showing that, despite how much time they all spend teasing each other, they are always proud of their siblings.

“I used to watch a lot of foreign films and TV shows to pick up the pronunciation and read a lot of graphic novels and translated books to learn how to read and write,” John elaborated. “It’s a very effective way to learn and I apparently have a gift for languages.”

“As well as many other things,” I added to be nice. “Any other stories I need to know?”

“When Gordon was having one of his back surgeries they told him that they had to strap him down and when he asked why they told him it was so he wouldn’t fall off the table and he said ‘It’s OK, five second rule’,” Scott told me.

“‘Cause I'm a snacc,” Gordon added with a grin. “Apparently I also woke up with a violent jolt and when I was asked if I was OK I apologised to the nurse and told her that I thought I was a shark.”

“You also started a joke with the nurse as you went under and finished it the moment you woke up with no prompting,” Virgil laughed.

I clapped enthusiastically for that one and Gordon bowed modestly.

“What about me?” Alan asked, finding the whole thing highly amusing.

“You’ve only been under once but you were hilarious in both the things you said,” John answered. “You apparently woke up screaming ‘Where are my wings?  I want my wings? You stole my feathers you jerk! You were only supposed to take my tonsils!’ and then passed right out again.”

Gordon cracked up laughing, as did everyone else including Alan.

“You then woke up again and asked how long until the anesthetic kicked in, and when the nurse told you it was all done and had actually been two hours you yelled in her face ‘WOAH, DID I JUST TIME TRAVEL?’” John finished.

“That’s so precious,” I cooed, because Alan is adorable in everything he does regardless of what it is.

“We have a lot of stories like that,” Virgil said, “we sometimes have to give pain relief or sedate someone who is freaking out and they do the weirdest stuff.” 

“They do? Is there some kind of hippocratic oath that you guys have to swear or can you tell me some?”

“No oath,”  they assured me. 

“One woman grabbed Virgil’s hand, stuck her fingers up in his sleeve, stroked his arm and said ‘You’d make a great carpet’,” Gordon told me.

“It’s not uncommon for people to feel stressed and unsure of where they are,” Scott continued, “they often wake up screaming or panicking, but we delivered one guy to the hospital who’d had a pretty nasty bang to the head and broken an arm. We were unable to calm him down so we had to sedate him so he wouldn’t do any more damage. He woke up as we were transferring him to the hospital gurney and he hopped off before we could catch him, pulled his pants down with his good arm and started to helicopter right there outside the hospital.”

That broke me, I’m sorry to say. I might proclaim to be far more mature than these idiots and not find fart jokes and the like amusing, but the mental image of this guy, standing there, twirling...I just couldn’t stop.

“One girl asked us if we were single and we didn’t answer and deflected by asking her if she had a boyfriend or girlfriend and she started crying that she just wanted a dog.”

“Remember that young boy who meowed the entire way to the hospital?” 

“And that one lady that was really nervous so we told her to think of something nice and she started singing ‘I wish you a merry Christmas,’ but it was July!”

“And the one that said she wanted us to drop her off at the top of a rainbow so she could slide down it?”

“And the guy that woke up when we landed, looked right at Kayo and said as loudly as he could ‘Look! The love of my life! Don’t leave me, I can change!’”

“And that one guy who knocked out a few teeth and spat out the gauze we packed his mouth with and started freaking out crying ‘was that my liver? Nooo, my liver! I need that! Get back in you!’”

“A woman lost a couple of teeth too and was crying about being ugly. We gave her some pain relief and she was so hazy that, when we handed her over to the doctor and gave him her teeth she started screaming at him... what was it she said, John? You heard it over the comms and were laughing so hard.”

“She yelled, ‘Charlatan! I demand you return my teeth! They are mine and I will choose how they are to be spent!’”

I cracked up at that, mostly the way John told it, which I assume was the same way she had, like a plummy Victorian aristocrat that had just been insulted.

“And that teen who said ‘hey, mister, my ass itches and I’m too high to scratch it.”

“Oh, that’s pure gold,” I laughed, wiping my eyes because I was laughing so hard.

“What about you?” Alan asked me. “Have you ever done anything weird?”

“Only every day of my life.”

“I meant under sedation.”

“Oh, yeah, not really,” I shrugged. “I know that when I had teeth out once, after napping on the couch for a few hours I suddenly sat up and announced that I needed to make Mum a cup of tea. She told me I didn’t need to but I said she was my guest and I had to be polite or she’d leave me alone to die. There was no arguing with me so I got up, went to the kitchen and came back and gave her a mug of cold water with a spoon in it. I apparently said ‘drink up, luv,’ like a really bad impression of Parker and face planted the couch and passed out again. Mum made her own tea after that.”

That got a fair few sniggers and Scott threatening to take away my British card for screwing up tea so badly.

“I have to ask,” I said conspiratorially once everyone had calmed down, “has Kayo ever done anything like this?”

They all looked around, as if scared that she might be listening, then eventually Virgil nodded.

“She came round from her knee surgery after she dislocated it and insisted on trying to get out of bed. The nurse told her she had to stay put as they had just fixed her knee and it needed time to heal. She answered in the most confident, how dare you try to stop me way and informed the nurse that she was a ninja and that they heal three times faster than normal people. The nurse let her try and she dropped face first.”

Honestly, out of all the stories I’ve heard today, that one was the best. It’s nice to know that even the most capable and sometimes terrifying of us isn’t always perfect.

[suckmyballshoney]

Mini prompt that became way too long, for @moony-jamie 💙 Esteban/Lance first date (uni AU)

Esteban adjusted the collar of his shirt for what felt like the hundredth time, nerves almost making him run away in the opposite direction. He took a deep breath and got out of his old rusty car. His eyes were stuck on the large mansion facing him, making him feel way too small for a boy as tall as him. His hands nervously clutched on his side, he dragged himself to the immense front door, as his heart was beating way too fast for his liking.

Lance had told him his parents were quite rich, but for Esteban who lived in a dormitory to be able to pay for his studies, that could have meant anything. So really he hadn’t expected his classmate to be loaded.

He thought he already knew a lot about Lance, from the moment they met the first day of uni they were glued together despite everything opposing them. Esteban knew almost everything about his best friend : his favorite color, how his sister drags him everywhere to show her “smart baby bro”, he even knows which pencil is the one Lance prefers to chew on when he gets stressed before an exam. And when he started developing feelings for the sweet cheeky boy, he knew that even if it wasn’t reciprocated, Lance would always treat him with respect and not break his heart harshly. So when he proposed to take Lance on a date, Esteban knew from the second he saw the red grow on his cheeks and the way his brown eyes started shining that Lance would agree.

And now he was there, anxiously ringing the bell of the front door of a house at least ten times bigger than the flat he lived in when he was a kid, to take his best friend and crush on a date in his ugly and almost dead Renault R5. He gulped, he looked completely ridiculous in the cheap button-up he stole from his dad’s closet and worn out baskets. Self-consciousness started to settle in his mind but the second he decided he didn’t want to ridicule himself in front of Lance, the door opened and he froze on his spot.

A tall man with white hair and a shiny watch on his wrist was holding the door and looking Esteban up and down in a suspicious manner.

“Lance, your friend is here !” He suddenly yelled, extending his hand toward Esteban. “Hello Esteban, I am Lawrence, Lance’s father.”

Eyes blown wide in anticipation, Esteban shook his hand as he returned the greeting. He didn’t have the time to try and find something else to say that a blurry figure quickly made its way toward him from the back of the corridor and jumped on him.

“Hi Este ! I’m ready so let’s go !” Lance blurted out happily before grabbing his hand and pulling him outside.

Esteban let him drag him toward the car, awkwardly waving toward the older man who chuckled in return, politely waving back at him.

“Have fun, boys !” He snickered and Lance huffed indignantly.

“Gosh he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.” He complained, trying to open the passenger door on the rusty car.

Esteban was still stuck in place, trying to digest all the information. “You’re fucking rich.”

As an answer, Lance stopped harassing the car door and gave him a deadpan look. “And you have your driver license so open the car so we can go eat, I’m starving.”

Esteban tried to protest but the intense impatient look he got made him press the button on his car keys and Lance happily opened the door, jumping on the torn out seat and looking around as if it was the coolest experience of his life and not the complete opposite of the brand new Maserati car parked in the mansion’s alley.

The older boy bit his lower lip anxiously and climbed in.

“Soooo…” Lance started, suddenly looking more shy and stealing a side glance toward his driver. “Where are we going ?”

Feeling uneasy, Esteban went through the plan he had prepared for the evening and found himself thinking it could never impress Lance if the boy was used to a very luxurious life. His silence must have lasted too long however, as the hand softly grabbing his wrist made him jump. “Este, is everything alright ?”

Esteban swiftly turned toward him, looking directly in his worried eyes. He blushed, even when he was upset Lance managed to be the cutest boy he had ever seen. Esteban swore himself to never again be the reason for the frown on those pretty lips.

“Yeah of course, sorry I’m a little nervous.” He smiled, and Lance rolled his eyes, never pushing his hand away.

“Me too, but I’m sure it will be nice, and as long as I get to spend time with you, it is perfect for me.”

Esteban couldn’t help but smile at that, sliding his hand in Lance’s and squeezing it. They stayed like this for a few seconds, shily looking into the other’s eyes lovingly before Esteban shifted to grab the wheel.

“Let’s go then.”

The plan was simple : they would go to a nice cozy restaurant in the city before walking along the river where were installed light decorations that Esteban was sure would have Lance in awe.

However, when they arrived at the little restaurant, he instantly regretted his decision. It was a normal burger place, nicer than what Esteban was used to but barely fitting in his tight budget, which, now that he saw in which environment Lance grew up in, would probably not be enough. Closing his eyes, he started counting his economies, hoping that if he skipped a few meals or two he could afford a better place for the boy he liked. Again, he was interrupted by said boy who jumped out of the car and giggled at the sight of the statue of Elvis Presley in the entrance.

“This place is so cool ! It looks like the restaurants on the road 66 !”

Esteban got dragged out of his trance - and car - when Lance opened his own door and pulled him out. “I love burgers, you’re the best.”

The look on his face was genuine excitement and Esteban felt like a small weight got carried away from his shoulders, and he smiled again, more relieved this time. “I know you do.” He winked and Lance looked even more excited than he already was.

They entered the restaurant and got placed in a small booth in the back. Esteban silently grabbed the menu, going through it and biting his lips as he counted his budget again to check what he could and definitely couldn’t allow himself to-

“Stop it.”

He frowned, looking up at an unimpressed looking Lance.

“What ?”

“What what ? That thing you’re doing, stop it right now.”

The half serious, half mocking smirk he wore on his lips confused Esteban more than it helped him understand what Lance was talking about and he lifted an eyebrow as a silent repeat of his question. Lance shook his head, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you.” He muttered, looking away as he sank lower in his seat.

That was not how their first date was supposed to go, Esteban thought, he was supposed to make Lance as happy as possible and instead of that, Lance looked very uncomfortable, deep frown on his face and passing his hand nervously in his hair.

“Lance, I…” Esteban didn’t know what to say, not entirely sure what he did to upset his best friend.

“Please” Lance mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m begging you, Este, stop immediately trying to impress me, I don’t care at all about anything like that.”

Esteban froze, suddenly feeling cold.

“How did you know ?” He wondered aloud, and it pulled a smile on the beautiful boy facing him.

Lance leaned front, crossing his arms on the table and offering him a soft look.

“Because I know you, you idiot.” He softly whispered, reaching out to grab at Esteban’s arm and take his hand. “You saw the house, the cars, heck you saw my dad. I didn’t lie when I said I was rich, but I don’t care about it, okay ? I didn’t agree to go on that date so that you could show me how much you can spend for me. I agreed to go because I love spending time with you, you make me laugh and I feel good when we’re together.”

Esteban found himself speechless, shamefully blushing at his own idiocy and doubts. Lance tightened his hold on his hand, and Esteban rubbed his thumb on the skin under.

“I love spending time with you too.” He whispered, giving Lance his most genuine smile of the evening.

After that, the dinner went without any more pressure, both of them talking and laughing as if nothing happened. They kept holding hands as long as possible, and when they got out of the restaurant, Esteban immediately reached for Lance’s hand again before the younger boy tried to walk toward the car.

“We’re not going back ?” He asked, intrigued.

“Not yet, I have another place I want to take you to.”

The way Lance’s eyes glinted was all Esteban needed to know he was now very curious about it.

So they walked hand in hand for a few minutes, Lance trying without stopping to make Esteban tell him where they were going. At some point, they turned right at a crossroad and the soft gasp Lance let out told Esteban he had a good idea there.

The street was beautifully decorated in the warm spring evening, strings of orange lights hanging on the trees and controlled lights turning on the walls around them. The reflexion on the water of the river along the street gave a very warm and romantic atmosphere to the place, and the whole effect seemed to work as Lance walked closer to him, both arms holding Esteban’s arm as he looked around them, fascinated.

“Este, it’s so beautiful !” He exclaimed cheerfully, pulling his date along to the barriers so they could look down the river.

Esteban mentally slapped himself when he almost said that Lance was the beautiful one here, cursing his own cheesiness when it came to the beautiful tall boy clutched to his arm. Instead, he just hummed in agreement, enjoying the moment as much as possible.

“Hey” Lance broke the silence a few minutes later, making Esteban turn toward him.

“Hm ?”

“You’re the best.” Lance murmured, his brown eyes shining with emotion in the warm lights of the street and Esteban gulped as they were very, very close.

However, he didn’t have the time to go further down this train of thoughts when soft lips pressed against his and his brain shut down completely.

The kiss was perfect to him, Lance pushing himself against his chest and moving his hand on Esteban’s cheek to steady himself. Esteban circled his arms around his waist, happily humming when Lance tried to deepen the kiss.

Out of breath, Esteban leaned back and the two boys looked at each other with eyes full of love and kindness. Lance suddenly started laughing, eyes closed with happiness and he glued himself against Esteban’s chest to hug him tightly.

“Does-” Esteban cleared his throat, “does that mean you would agree if I asked you to be my boyfriend ?”

Lance laughed some more, tightening his hold.

“As if you don’t know the answer.” He teased him, and Esteban chuckled to himself.

Of course he knew.

[readwithk]

The Wooden House

On December 19th, 1983 a young couple was roaming the streets of Paris. They were newly wedded and they were on their honeymoon. They were very happy. The girl's name was Anna and the boy was Noah. Noah loved her so much. Anna was a pure soul. She was kind and generous. Although, Noah was not that rich, but he never turned any word down that came out of Anna's mouth. He was madly in love and so was Anna. It was a cold evening. Anna was freezing. The wind was blowing, leaves rustling. All of a sudden Anna said, "I think it is time for us to finish our coffee and enter some decent nice shop. I think it is about to rain". "Yes, why not!", Noah replied, "Let me take you to the most famous wood-craft house of Paris". "Where is it?’’  Anna asked excitedly. "It is on this very street. Come on! Let me take you there my love". They both went towards the shop. The shop was not so splendid, yet they decided to go inside. On entering the shop, they saw an old man sitting in his comfortable chair with some small tools in his hands. He was mending something. There was a boy in the shop who was cleaning some ancient artifacts. The shop had everything made up of wood. The boy greeted the couple and asked them that what they want to buy? The couple replied, "Give us some time". The boy left them. Noah asked Anna to roam and see things for herself. She took a quick round of the store and came back. She was a bit disappointed. She said, "Honey, I do not find anything that suits us". Noah asked her for the reason because according to him there were some pretty showpieces that they could buy. She replied, "Nothing in here reflects love". "Do you think love exists?" The old man interrupted. "Yes, of course I do", Anna replied politely. "No one today loves truly. Those were my times when people were mostly sincere. Nowadays, you will not find someone like that", the old man said. "No sire, it is not the truth. I married my husband two weeks ago and we do love each other so much. We have been through good and bad times, but together. I know him for past six years", Anna said. It began to rain outside. The temperature was freezing. It was getting cold. All of a sudden, the bulb got fused due to some electrical issue. The light went off. The boy fetched some candles and lit them. There was a dim light in the store. The old man caught their attention by saying, "I have something that might reflect love, but it is not for sale. I can show it to you if you want me to". The couple keenly agreed. The old man went to a small room inside the store. Five minutes later, he came out with a small wooden house in his hand. He raised his hand and asked the couple to have a look. The house was indeed very beautiful. "It is perfectly splendid", Noah said in amazement. "Yeah! Indeed", Anna added to Noah's statement. "I made it for someone I love. I made it a long time ago. You people won't have time for my story, otherwise I would have told you the reason behind making this wooden house", said the old man. Noah and Anna insisted that they have plenty of time and that they could amuse themselves with a story on a cold and rainy evening like that. The boy stood there listening to them. Noah, Anna, and the old man sat on the chairs. "Before beginning", said the old man, "I would like to tell you that this story belongs to me". And in this way the old man narrated his story. A long time ago, maybe fifty years ago, when I was a fine young man, I fell in love with a dancer. She used to dance in a club. I used to see her. She was so beautiful and young. She had a lady whom she called aunt. She was in a group of twelve young woman. She was youngest of all. She was seventeen and I was twenty years old. I was not that rich. I used to visit the place with my cousin, Ed. Her name was Elizebeth. I used to call her Lizzy. She liked me, too, but was unable to give me importance while dancing. Once she did and the consequences were not good. She was punished. Next day, after performing she was taking her break. I went near her and asked her the reason of her sadness. She hesitated at first, but later, she told me that last night she was punished by a whip and that she will soon be a prostitute once she will cross her eighteenth birthday. It made me sad. Such a beautiful creature she was. Violating her was the violation of the nature. She was a natural beauty. She asked me about my profession. I told her that I was a carpenter. She laughed, but not in an insulting way. She said that I was unique. Every man she had ever danced for was either a commander or a doctor or some other wealthy man. She never in her life ever met a carpenter before. She seemed glad. My cousin came and he told me that my father needed me on his shop. So, I left her there promising her to meet her tomorrow again. Days passed by, we talked and talked and talked and we fell in love without knowing it. Well, I was the only one who did not know it. One evening I was sitting with her. I was smoking my cigar and she was having a glass of bear. Suddenly she said, "I am going to be sold at the end of this week or may be sooner, I don't know". I was sad after listening to the words coming out of her mouth. "Will you marry me? You and me? We both can go to a farm, have our own kids. You'll take them to school. We will raise them. I will love you with all my heart. I will dance for you on the nights you will come home in a bad mood. I will cherish you in your sad moments. I promise you protection. Protection of your honor and dignity. Till death us apart?", she said with a question in her eyes. "Dear Lizzy", I replied, "Let me talk to my father about this". The next morning, I went to my father. He was very cold as usual. He was working on some project. I gathered all the courage in the world to tell him that I am in love and that I need to marry this girl. I took a deep breath and told him everything. He seemed normal until I told him that Lizzy was a dancer. He yelled at me and told me that dancers like Elizebeth are merely a source to calm oneself and not to marry. I told him she was virgin, but he threatened me with my whole career and fortune. He told me that if I will insist anymore, he would hinder me from his wealth and property. My mother came to me and told me that a man with his mother and sisters alive is not meant to marry a whore. I was immature. I went to Lizzy and broke up with her. I was a very foolish man. It saddened me so much because I had affection for her. She was disheveled. She slapped me and went to her small room. I was already dishearten. The slap added the salt to my open wounds. I drank a lot of alcohol. I was sitting in another bar all of a sudden, I saw a man staring at me from the right corner. When I looked at him attentively, I thought he was someone I know, but I was drunk so I tend to left the place. The next morning, I had nothing to do, so I took a block of wood, my tools, and some paint. That was the time I built this beautiful house. But I had no one to give it to. So, I waited for it to dry and I put it in my pocket. I vowed that I will keep it near me no matter what. It reminded me of her every time I looked at it. On the same evening, I went to the same bar. I saw the same man from yesternight. He approached near me and said, "Are you Mr. Elvis Dean?" I replied, "Yes, indeed I am. Why?". "Don't you remember your old friend, Vis?", he said. Now I knew whom I was staring at. The moment I realized who he was, I stood up and hugged him. He was Albert. Albert Franco, my friend. Nine years ago, he went abroad for studies and he returned as a quite rich man. He was a doctor. We exchanged a few words and then he finally asked me about my love-life. I told him about the melodramatic situation I was caught up in. The main problem was money. He smiled at me and offered me financial help. He told me that he could help me with the expenses. All I need to do is to find a priest and my bride to be. I felt really happy. I went home, said my goodbyes to my family. My father hindered me from the property, but it was fine. I was happy and completely supported by a generous friend. I went to her aunt's mansion. She was not her actual aunt. I asked her to send her out and I negotiated with her the price of Lizzy's freedom. She smiled and replied that Lizzy has gone for her first prostitution project with two men. Her words had an impact of a bullet on me. I was unable to speak. I took a step back and I thought that how scared that poor thing might be. I was heartbroken. I went back to my hotel room. I waited for the next day. The next day, I went to the mansion. I asked about her and she wasn't there. That mistress was not answering my questions. I become gravely worried. Another day passed and still no Lizzy. I was furious this time. I went there to claim what was mine. When I reached there, I saw a prostitute waving at me from her window. I went upstairs. Her name was Eva. She told me that Elizabeth was admitted in a hospital and that she was fighting for her life. I somehow maintained my balance and reached the given location as soon as I could back then. I searched every room hysterically and finally I saw her. Her face was bruised. Her wrists had cuts. Her head was shaved from its right corner. Her feet had rope marks. She was lying there like a lifeless body. She seemed like a corpse. I rushed into her arms and asked her about what happened. She sobbed and told me that she was sold at a very low cost to two men. They took her to a private place and then the poor Elizabeth was raped by twenty men over and over again. I told her how sorry I was. Guilt and grief were flickering through my eyes in form of tear drops. I told her about my father and about my friend Albert who helped me in achieving my goal or the goal that was yet to be achieved. I took out the house and placed it on her chest. She had bite marks there. She was severely molested. I asked her for her forgiveness. She smiled. She was barely able to talk. She gestured me to come closer. So, I did. All I could hear was "I love you Elvis" in her melodious voice. I pushed her gently back. She was staring at me. It seemed like my eyes were a dark pit and she was trying to find something inside of them. She looked into the dark pit (my eyes) and found her own image. She said, "In you, I find me. I find us". Those were her last words. I loved her since. I am a bachelor who was once in love with a whore. And that whore was my proud. In this way, the old man's story came to an end. Anna was bursting into tears and Noah felt lamented. The old man said, "My dear, take it. I was not able to get my love, but you do. Every time you will look at it, you will remember me and Lizzy. I want you to pray for me. I want to be with her in the after-life. Take this". Noah interrupted, "But it is special for you. How can we take it?" "So, it is for you, too. It reflects true love and weren't you looking for something that reflects true love?", asked Elvis. Anna said, "Okay sire, but we will be paying for it. How much for it?" "There is no price for affection my child", the old man replied. Noah interrupted, "take this", pulling out his wallet and placing a fifty Euro note on the old man's palm. "I think the weather is fine outside now. Let us leave love before it gets rainy again", Noah said. They then greet the old man and left his store. Elvis wiped his tears, sat in his chair and started counting his money. The servant who was quiet for so long came near and said, "Master, you have a wife, six daughters, three sons, and five grand-children. Why did you lie?" Mrs. Elvis is from a very respectable family, I know. Then why did you lie?" The old man laughed and said, "If a five Euro thing can be sold in fifty, wouldn't you sell it for a greater profit? Sometimes, we have to take what is ours by one way or another." The boy was disgusted by the old man's wickedness, but he was merely a servant so he remained silent and went back to clean the artifacts.

[chilling-seavey]

Heartbreak Hotel (d.s.) - Chapter Thirteen

A/N Corbyn is starting to get suspicious...

Daniel was walking on air the next day, absolutely beaming, and it truly felt like all the birds were singing him glorious melodies all the way to the car shop. The blue summer sky was cloudless, and the gentle breeze eased the heat to comfortable perfection and Daniel was sure he would never be sad again for the rest of his life after only a simple lunch with Loretta.

She had said yes, and they were going to a concert together.

He could have burst with the thrill of it.

Daniel punched his timecard with a skip in his step, whistling to himself the tune of Heartbreak Hotel as he sauntered over to his corner of the shop to get to work. The other three guys were suspicious; Daniel never made himself known at work and his whistling and easy “good morning” to his co-workers seemed quite out of character.

Corbyn and Jonah exchanged furrowed glances over the roof of the Mustang they were working on together before watching Daniel start to fill up his bucket of soapy water.

“Hey, Seavey.” Corbyn whispered over to Christian who was under the car beside him.

Christian wheeled out to look up at him, “What?”

“What’s got your brother in such a good mood?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Christian wheeled back under the car.

Corbyn pursed his lips, leaning on the side of the Mustang as he watched Daniel for a little longer before Jonah was nudging him to get to work.

Daniel was oblivious to their staring as he started scrubbing the car in the corner of the shop, whistling softly and swaying the sponge along the windows in time with the tune. Even if she wasn’t his soulmate – assumed mostly because Corbyn was an obvious subject that contradicted that idea – Daniel still felt happy around Loretta. August couldn’t come fast enough.

At exactly 1pm, right after lunch break, Loretta arrived at the car shop like always. She had on her usual black sunglasses that she raised to the top of her head when she stepped inside, her white flats clicking against the concrete floor to alert her arrival and the four young men looked her way.

Her eyes found Daniel first and she waved her fingers in his direction with a sweet smile and a soft, “Hey, Dani.”

He could have melted on the spot, beaming right back at her and nodding, “Hey, Lori.”

Corbyn looked as if he saw a ghost, his face fallen in angered shock at that interaction as Loretta walked over to him. He glared at an oblivious Daniel while he wrapped his arm around his girlfriend’s back and pressed a strong kiss to her lips.

“What’s shakin’, Corbs?” Loretta asked, giggling at his obvious show of affection in front of all the guys.

“Busy working, doll.” Corbyn answered plainly, raising his pinky to link through the ring that still hung around her neck. “Won’t be very fun for you; you should just head home.”

“Oh. That’s alright. I’ll go sit with Daniel and let you work.” Loretta leaned in to kiss his cheek and then she was moving off across the shop before Corbyn could protest.

“Loretta! Don’t go bothering everyone!” Corbyn called after her, starting to follow her but he fell to a stop when he watched her set her hand on Daniel’s shoulder and the younger boy looked up at her with a smile. “Loretta!” Corbyn shouted, his voice echoing across the metal and concrete laden garage.

“Holy cow, Corbyn, don’t flip your lid.” Loretta gaped back at him. “I’m just waiting for you until you’re finished work and then we can go get dinner.”

Corbyn’s jaw clenched as she turned back to Daniel and they spoke in hushed tones together.

“What’s that all about?” Jonah asked, coming up behind Corbyn while wiping his oil stained hands off on a cloth, following his best friend’s stare across the shop.

“Fuck if I know.” Corbyn grumbled and pushed past him to get back to work.

Over by the car wash corner, Loretta was gladly listening to Daniel explain his job – as uninteresting as it was – while she sat up on the counter nearby. Her smooth legs swung lazily back and forth, crossed at the ankles, and her manicured fingernails were curled over the edge of the laminate top, following him with her bright eyes.

Daniel was nervous, sure, we know that well by now that he was the shyest and most easily anxious boy in all of Los Angeles but he played it cool. Loretta was right: it truly felt like they had known each other for a while. Talking felt easier.

“Then when all the nastiness from the paint is scrubbed off with the soap sponge, I get to take the hose and spray it all down. It’s real satisfying.” Daniel said.

“Can I try?”

Daniel was surprised by her question but he agreed and held out the hose to her. She hopped off the counter and took it from him with a smile.

“Any method behind your madness?” she asked.

“Nope. Just go for it.” Daniel took a step back and let her rinse off the car.

Her technique was a little rusty since the heavy hose had a mind of its own and took a bit of practice to get used to maneuvering but she did well. Her proud smile was enough. Loretta glanced over at him as she walked around the other side of the car and she flicked the end of the hose just enough to spray him with water. Daniel yelped loudly as the cold water seeped through his coveralls and splashed over his face, but Loretta only laughed loudly.

The other three guys looked over at the ruckus, watching as Daniel lunched for the hose to get her back but she rushed off around the other side of the car and picked up the soapy sponge.

“Gag me.” Corbyn grumbled.

“The hell is going on?” Jonah frowned. “Christian, what’s your brother doing?”

“Yeah. Is he trying to make a move on my girl?” Corbyn crossed his arms over his chest and looked over at the elder Seavey brother.

Christian sighed but didn’t need to think twice, “Daniel would have told me if he had eyes for her. They’re just having some fun. Goofing off. They’re still practically children.”

“Only a year younger.” Corbyn retorted softly, looking back towards Loretta and Daniel who were now washing the car together, singing some Elvis song that Corbyn didn’t care to know, “They certainly act like it though.”

[the-witty-pen-name]

Can’t Help Falling in Love

Loki x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Summary: When Loki learns the traditions of Valentine’s Day, he asks you to be his Valentine- and reluctantly takes advice from Steve Rogers. 

Warnings: none; just fluff

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Thank you to @squadleaderchase​ for the suggestion! This was so fun to write!

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

I recommend listening to Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley towards the end of this imagine!  

There is also a female reader version of this fic, available here!

“Can’t Midgardians have a holiday that doesn’t involve such a grotesque display of… red?” Loki asks walking into the living room of the Avengers compound. Loki arrived at the compound a few weeks before Christmas and so far, he’s experienced two Earth holidays: Christmas and New Year’s. Of course, Tony had picked the theme for both parties to be elaborately red and gold- he claimed the fact that it matched his suit was merely a coincidence.

“Just wait until next month,” you reply casually, your eyes not leaving the brief you were reading while you sat cozied up in one of the large armchairs. “I think you’ll like St. Patrick’s Day much more… color scheme wise at least.”

Loki looked up curiously at the hearts of all shades of red and pink Natasha had hung up to decorate the Avengers’ living quarters. She had gone to visit Clint’s family and his kids spent hours making Valentines and decorations out of construction paper and glitter. Loki looked almost puzzled at the lopsided hearts that hung from the ceiling on transparent line so they looked like they floated mid-air.

“Perhaps I might,” he mumbled to himself, the lovesick aura of his surroundings making him slightly disgusted. “Though I suppose I find your rituals as bizarre as you’d find on Asgard.”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled in response to his thinking out loud. It was rare that the compound would be this quiet. It was a Friday evening and in the middle of a team meeting earlier today, Tony declared exhaustedly that everyone needs to start the weekend early and dismissed everyone despite Steve’s protests. You weren’t sure where everyone else went and you didn’t particularly care- enjoying the rare peace and quiet.

You didn’t mind Loki’s company. He was a little aloof but overall, you found him more to be misunderstood than anything else. He wasn’t like Thor and sure, he had a very trouble ridden past to downplay it- but he’s confided in you all it wasn’t entirely his doing. Out of everyone living at the compound, he probably had grown the closest to you, or as close as Loki would allow himself to be to someone.

“What even is this holiday?” Loki asked, pulling his attention from the decorations to where you sat, binder in your lap. You looked up and closed the brief, tossing it onto the coffee table in front of where you sat.

“Sunday is Valentine’s Day,” you say looking back over to him, meeting his eyes. “I mean overtime the traditions and how we celebrate have changed but it’s originally the day meant to honor St. Valentine and commemorate his death. There’s a lot more to it than that and there’s all different of different origins, but now it’s more like a day where you celebrate love, because he was the patron Saint of Love.”

Loki nods, liking the idea of this holiday much more than New Years already. He didn’t mind Christmas, but the elaborate parties made everything not very appealing to him. You can’t blame the god for not having a good time at parties where every guest fears him or hates him. He walks over and takes a seat on the couch and crosses his legs. He was intrigued enough to continue the conversation and ask you more questions. “What are the traditions?” He asks curiously.

“Traditionally, you would ask someone to be your Valentine, and that’s the person you want to spend the day with,” you answer with a small shrug, trying to explain a holiday you’ve never had to explain before. “Some people have it easy and they ask their significant other, and if you don’t have one, you ask someone you’re romantically interested in to be your Valentine. Then you give each other gifts, like chocolates or flowers, anything really that’s romantic and you go out on a date, like a nice dinner but it doesn’t have to be. That’s the basic gist.”

“Thank you, (y/n),” Loki said, mulling over your explanation. “You’ve been helpful, as always. Tell me, who’s your Valentine?”

“I don’t have one,” you answered honestly. The only time you really celebrated was when you had been with someone. You’d never really participated otherwise. You planned to just spend the night alone or with Nat if she also didn’t have plans and probably watch a movie- most definitely Pride and Prejudice.

“Shame,” Loki said with a tsk. “Perhaps, if you would be interested, you could be my Valentine?”

“Really?” you ask, honestly surprised.

“I actually like the idea of the day,” Loki shrugged. “And I don’t know many people, people seem to hate me on this planet- no idea as to why. You’ve always been kind to me, and you are the most tolerable person I’ve encountered on this planet.”

“That’s oddly very kind of you,” you say with a chuckle. “I appreciate the sentiments. Um, yes. I’d be happy to be your Valentine.”

“Excellent,” he grinned. He clapped his hands together and stood up. “Splendid. I’ll ask Thor to help me plan something.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you smile, picking up your paperwork again as Loki heads off to find his brother.

***

“Brother,” Thor’s voice echoed in the training room. “Spar with me?”

“As much as I would love to,” Loki said sarcastically, “I need your help with something I need to plan.” Loki walked over to the side of the mat where Thor had been training with Captain Rogers.

“Plan what?” Captain Rogers asked curiously. It was an innocent enough question but Loki took it as Rogers insinuating his distrust in him. Of course, Loki can’t blame the man but it did rub him the wrong way.

“If you must know Captain Rogers, I’m making plans for this upcoming Valentine’s Day,” Loki said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure since you have quite the active love life recently, your words of wisdom are probably of infinite value.”

“You can learn a thing or two from me,” Steve retorted as he put the punching bag beck into place. “But I don’t like your attitude.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever manage without you,” Loki scoffed. He turned his attention back to his brother. “I need help to determine where I should take (y/n) and what I should get for a present.”

“(y/n) agreed to this?” Thor asks, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Rogers kept his mouth shut, deciding to see where this conversation will go before

“Yes, brother. I asked (y/n) to be my Valentine as stated by tradition and they said yes.”

“Ah! Good for you, brother!” Thor exclaimed, happily. “I’m glad you’re immersing yourself in the Midgard culture.”

“Yes, yes,” Loki waved him off, “Now, please, tell me what I should do.”

“I’ve never celebrated Valentine’s Day,” Thor says with a shrug and a sympathetic look. “I haven’t had much opportunity to explore the culture. Every time I’m on this planet I’m a little busy preventing its destruction. Perhaps Rogers can help you?”

Loki let out an exasperated sigh. He avoided Rogers as he knew the man had such a smug look on his face. Loki refused to give him the satisfaction. However, he realized that wouldn’t be fair to you. Rogers not only knew what to do, but he was also close friends with you. He quickly realized if he wanted to celebrate with you properly, he’d need to rely on the infamous super soldier.

“Captain Rogers,” Loki said with a charismatic smile, turning back to the man. “I wholeheartedly apologize for my lack of… social niceties. If you’d be willing to help me, to ensure your dear friend enjoys the holiday, I would be sincerely grateful.”

“Only because of (y/n),” Rogers says skeptically, waving a finger at Loki. “They deserve to enjoy their time and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you screw up their evening.”

“What a loyal friend.”

Years later, the Avengers would still talk about the fact Loki cared about you so much, he sought out advice from Captain America and Thor. And as Captain America said, he helped Loki with every last detail and Steve never let Loki forget it.

***

Loki had told you that he’d come to your room to get you at 6 o’clock Sunday evening. He wore clothes he had picked out, black dress pants, a white button-down shirt and shiny, black dress shoes. He had kept the last button of the shirt unbuttoned and he had rolled the sleeves up, a styling tip he had gotten from Thor. He had his long hair gelled back and tamed, ignoring Captain Roger’s horrible suggestion for a haircut. He felt very weird not wearing any green, but he took the advice he was given on his ensemble.

You were just putting on your shoes when he knocked at your door Sunday promptly at 6pm. Of course, Loki would be very punctual. You gave yourself one more quick once more in the mirror in your room before heading to answer the door.

You kept your appearance simple, sticking to how you usually styled your hair. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you quickly opened the door, your jacket in hand.

“Wow,” you say with a grin, when you take in Loki’s appearance. “You look very nice.”

“You look stunning,” Loki said, his eyes widening, taking in your appearance. The compliment made you have butterflies.

“Thank you,” you said with false confidence. Underneath, you were a nervous wreck as you took the arm that he extended to you.

“So,” Loki began to walk down the hallway with you. “Apparently, this planet has something called reservations, and anyone who tries to get one a few days before Valentine’s Day is a “moron,” according to a very rude young man I had the pleasure of speaking with- the first time using a phone too on top of that. So, I hope you don’t mind if the evening is a little… makeshift.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” you reassure him. You feel him relax slightly. You found how hard he was trying so endearing.

Where else did he bring you but just down the hall to the living room. At night with the lights dimmed, combined with Natasha’s homemade decorations, it actually looked quite beautiful. He had decorated with an eclectic array of candles as well that covered most surfaces of the room. It also looked like he had swiped every throw pillow in the whole compound and had them arranged the coffee table in the center of the room.

“Did you do all of this?” You ask in awe.

“Yes,” he replied, just watching you. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

“I had to make my own version of advice I received,” he disclosed to you. You sat opposite each other on either side of the coffee table, you kicked off your heels and he did the same with his shoes. “Captain Rogers said- and I’m trying my best to quote verbatim, ‘You need to show a special someone a good time if you care about ‘em . You gotta take ‘em to dinner and dancing.’” He even mimicked Steve’s voice perfectly. It made you laugh.

“I can’t believe you subjected yourself to Steve for me, I’m touched,” you smiled. “I mean I love Steve,” you continue, “But I can’t imagine you too being best friends anytime soon.”

“No, I suppose we probably won’t be,” Loki chuckles.

“I hate to point it out,” you continue, “but I think you missed both the dinner part and the dancing part of that plan.��� Loki smirked and when you blinked, he transformed the whole room.

“Did I?” he asks, with an eyebrow raised. You gasp, looking around the room you were now in. You knew it was an illusion, but it felt very real. The atmosphere, the breeze coming in from the large bay windows that weren’t there before. The coffee table now a table now one of many dining tables in an incredibly high-end restaurant. The table had food, and a bottle of wine. You were stunned. There was a live band and other couples in other tables and out on the dancefloor.

“Loki?” You exclaimed, looking around at your new surroundings. It was amazing. You couldn’t believe the magic right before your eyes. Of course, you knew it was just one of his tricks, but it felt so incredibly real. You picked up your fork and took a bite of the food in front of you. It was incredible, you questioned if you were even eating.

“It’s real,” Loki said, like he could read your mind. Honestly, he had only just anticipated your next question. “I made it. Well, I made it with Friday’s supervision.”

“It’s fantastic! I can’t believe you went through all this trouble just for me.”

“Sweetheart, you are very much worth it- worth much more than this,” he responded casually, throwing in the term of endearment to see how you’d react. He caught the way it made you smile.

You continued to talk for a little while, and shared stories. You were worried that compared to his life on Asgard, he’d find your stories incredibly boring and mundane. It seemed to be the opposite. His attention was only on you and he held on to every word you said. He created this elaborate setting just to keep you the center of his attention.

“Should we dance?” He asks suddenly, a glimmer in his eye. You looked down apprehensively.

“I’m not really a dancer,” you tried to insist.

“Do you actually not want to dance, darling? Because if so, I will not bring it up again,” he says earnestly, “But, if you’re saying no because you’re afraid I’m going to judge you, I honestly can promise you I would never dream of doing so.”

You give it another moment to ponder over his words. You were taken aback at how well he seemed to know how you were thinking. You let out a sigh of defeat, and smile. “I’d love to,” you reply.

He stands up and offers you his hand. His smile is enough to make you weak at the knees. You take his hand and he leads you over to the dancefloor as the band starts playing its next song. “Does that singer sound like Elvis?” You ask, the small glitch in the illusion throwing you off for only a moment.

“I don’t know who that is,” Loki says with a laugh. He pulls you in close and rests one hand on the small of your back and the other grasps your hand close. You wrap your other arm around his shoulder. You are both pressed up incredibly close to one another. You rest your head on his chest comfortably, and you can’t see how much the action makes his whole face go red. Guiding your movements together, it mostly just swaying in place. The steps were small, and with the music playing for the two of you.

“This place is incredible,” you sigh happily looking up at him. “But I think I liked the first place a little better.”

He nodded in agreement and you got to watch a green hue encompass the walls of the restaurant as they almost melted away, and everything around the two of you just fade away. The sconces on the walls, revealed themselves to be the candles that cluttered the living room and the couples evaporated with the green mist. The table you had both sat at, turned back to the coffee table but the empty plates remained. The elaborate statues that surrounded the room turned into the furniture you knew well, and then the live band faded away to reveal Steve’s record player indeed playing a 45 of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley.

When the room finished revealing its true appearance to you, you laid your head back on Loki’s chest and mumbled that now it was perfect. He smiled to himself, thinking about how without a doubt in his mind, Valentine’s Day is his absolute favorite holiday on Midgard. He now couldn’t believe this reality was real. If he wasn’t holding you, he’d pinch himself. You were here, with him, in his arms, dancing in the middle of the living room on this godforsaken planet.

“(y/n)?” he whispered softly as the song was coming to an end.

“Mhmm?” You responded, your eyes closed, really just basking in the feeling of being so close to him and the smell of his cologne.

“Will be mine?” He asks carefully, remembering the phrase from Captain Roger’s advice. That phrase apparently being very important if today went well and he wanted to ask you to “go steady.” You chuckled softly, hearing Steve’s influence in the phrase.

“I would love to,” you say with a shy smile looking back up to him. He beams, incredibly happy you said yes. Swept up in his emotions, he swiftly leans down and presses his lips to yours capturing them in a passionate first kiss.

“Oh gross!” You hear someone exclaim, making you both pull away. It’s Tony- who was currently holding his side in pain as Pepper elbowed him in the side.

“You really had to do that?” she chastised him, rolling her eyes and giving an apologetic look to you and Loki before pushing Tony down the hallway to give you both your moment back, as sullied as it had become thanks to Tony.

“I never gave Rock of Ages permission to be… lovey dovey in my building! (y/n) you can do so much better than that greaseball!”

“I’m so sorry,” she said embarrassed by his outburst, ushering him out as quickly as possible.

Loki turns his head back to you, immediately after they are out of view. “Where were we, darling?” He smirks, pulling you in for another kiss.

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Part 10

I’m participating in @wackydrabbles​ prompt 71 “Dont be stubborn. Try it.”

Word Count: 1890

Pairing: Liam and Riley

Thanks @burnsoslow​ for beta reading and pretty much having to drag me across the finish line, as well as all the weeks and weeks of listening to me whine and pity myself.  And @emkay512​ for pre-reading and your encouraging words late Monday that made my whole night.

a/n: this is crack, plain and simple. I haven’t written since mid-october; just been paralyzed with fear over my own writing and this is my practice run and basically the best I could come up with. I’m going to try so so hard to finish this series

The new royal couple, fresh off their Vegas flight, stepped up to a makeshift podium the press had created on the tarmac. It was packed tightly with news station microphones crammed in every nook and cranny, one on top of the other. Voice recorders were spread across its surface, and the crown's private jet served as the backdrop. A bevy of frenzied reporters -- domestic and international -- pushed and elbowed their way into one another in hopes of getting the closest shot of the newlyweds and a chance to have their questions answered first.

“King Liam! Is the marriage binding?”

“How long have you known, Miss Brooks?”

“Were you trying to make a political statement by having a hooker at the ceremony?”

“Your Majesty! Will the monkey be joining your court soon?”

So many questions, most followed by laughter and snickers directed at the King and his bride.

Liam frowned as his eyes dashed side to side in a diligent effort to understand the literally thousands of questions that were lobbed at him all at once. He blinked rapidly as one flash of a camera after the next blinded and bleached his vision. Just as it would return to normal, another successive set of flashes would set him back again.

He had been a part of news conferences since he was a child, when he would watch his late father speak from different parts of the world, near and far, about this policy or that deal. Yet this was different. This was not only the biggest breaking story in Cordonia -- or even Europe -- but one that had swept the world. 

His drunken actions two nights ago, no doubt, would have created a stir; however, it was Maxwell's post on Instagram of the ceremony that now made him tabloid fodder. Everyone knew about the king who was married by his own brother and an Elvis impersonator, the leg-humping monkey that served as a ring bearer, and the chain-smoking, tube-top-wearing prostitute who was the maid of honor. As confident as Liam had been that he could handle this, as he'd dealt with so many other stories of intrigue regarding the monarchy, he couldn't dispel the twisting feeling that burrowed deep into the pit of his stomach.

Maybe Madeleine was right: he had become a laughingstock. A failure. Just one big fuck up.

As much as he hated to hear the things said about him, he could deal with it. In the morning, he would call Prince Harry to swap stories, survival tips, and perhaps share a good laugh about it.

It was just ...

Liam felt Riley's tiny hand grip his a little tighter. He wouldn't blame her one bit if his little pussycat turned around and headed back up the steps to the jet and returned to Las Vegas. The only thing Liam wanted to do was keep her shielded from the hurtful comments and insensitive questions. But to his astonishment, she stood there with all the feigned confidence in the world, flashing a big, beaming smile that lit his heart on fire, while staring back at him affectionately. She was handling the situation better than she was before they stepped off the plane. He knew she was doing it for him. God, she just makes everything better. 

Feeling a little more grounded and in control, Liam returned her smile. A touch of radiance sparkled between his eyes and hers, as if it were some sort of unspoken conversation only they understood. Riley knew exactly what he needed at that moment to rise above this scandal they were both being raked over the coals for: He needed her to be okay.

Raising his free hand to calm the crowd so that he might address their concerns, he noticed the press' attention and cameras suddenly shift away from him and into the distance. Murmurs and chatter soon erupted. Naturally, Liam's gaze followed suit -- towards a group of heavily-armed soldiers heading their way. They wore white hazmat uniforms and had self-contained breathing apparatus and personal protective equipment. Leading the charge was a well-dressed gentleman in a three-piece suit with a shiny bald head that glistened with heavy perspiration. 

He walked like he hadn't shit in weeks.

Liam squinted and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. “The hell is that?”

Riley inched closer to Liam and clasped his suit jacket. "What's happening right now? Who are all those people, Liam?"

Liam's forehead creased in puzzlement; he didn't know. Wrapping his arms protectively around Riley, he pulled her even closer but never answered the question. It wasn't until the uniformed men stopped briefly and pointed to Drake, who was standing with his arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs, that it suddenly became clear who they were looking for.

Reporters and onlookers had been so focused on Liam’s return with the American woman, they hadn’t noticed that the brooding Walker had exited the jet last among their posse. Just as everyone had watched replays and snippets of Maxwell’s Instagram video, they were also fully aware the King’s best friend wasn’t exactly returning to Cordonia … healthy … thanks to Maxwell’s Tik Tok sing-along. 

A video Drake Walker had no clue existed. 

 The crowd began to disperse in fear and panic. If men in hazmat suits were needed, they could only assume this went well beyond your casual, run-of-the-mill STD.

Still in no mood to play around, Drake started yelling obscenities and gradually backing away from the hazmat brigade that was closing in on him like a cheetah at a water buffalo hole. 

"Mr. Walker," a heavily echoed voice called out, sounding oddly reminiscent of Darth Vader through their breathing contraption, "we need you to come with us."

"The fuck I do." Drake shook his head emphatically while continuing to slide away from them. "I'll beat the shit out of all of ya if you so much as touch me."

"Now, Mr. Walker, don't be stubborn. Try it, and you'll find yourself with a nice little tranquilizer to the ass. Are you going to come with us willingly, or do we have to make this more difficult than it needs to be?"

Drake stood motionless in disbelief. "I don't even know what you guys want or what you think I did," he squawked with a hint of desperation in his tone.

"Tough titties. SEIZE HIM!"

With that order, Drake twisted on the heels of his boots and took off, dodging and weaving away from a bunch of men he had no clue why were even after him. 

He had a pretty good hunch, though, who set this chain of events in motion.

The bald guy in a three-piece suit walked up to Liam and flipped his badge open. "Your Majesty?"

Liam nodded, not bothering to acknowledge the man's credentials. "I am. What is the meaning of all this? What the hell are you doing with Drake?"

"Sir, if you will, it has come to our attention that Mr. Walker is a public health risk and highly contagious. We will have to secure him into our custody at once."

Liam scrunched up his face in utter confusion and stared back at the official before responding, “He just has case of crabs, syphilis, herpes, genital warts, gonorrhea, and chlamydia. You’re treating him like he’s about to start some damn worldwide pandemic. Without sexual contact and with heavy doses of medications and creams, Drake should be able to live a normal life like anyone else. So, as the ruler of this country, I am ordering your men to stand down at once.”

“My apologies, King Liam, but my orders come from the World Health Organization and the United Nations. You'll need to take this up with them. Dr. Wolfschitz was clear on the protocol."

"Dr. Wolfschitz?" Liam questioned as realization quickly set in. He twisted around to face Leo, who had this enormous shit-eating grin, the likes he'd never seen on him before. "You? You did this?"

“Walker messed with the wrong bull, little bro.” Leo stuck up his pointer fingers on both sides of his head with a menacing scowl and smugness in his tone. “Now he gets the horns.”

Liam swatted away one of Leo's finger horns. “This is serious, Leo. Not everything is a joke! You're going to fix this, NOW!"

Leo placed a comforting hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, patting it a few times before speaking softly to him. “Look, I know you’re upset right now. You two were very close. But the Drakester is going to a far better place. There’s a big open field and everything where he can run and play all day with others just like him. And all the meaty bones he can eat too … lucky bastard.”

Riley had to bury her face in Liam’s chest to prevent the laugh that threatened to escape, but the bobbing of her shoulders was something she couldn’t hide. 

“NOW, Leo!” 

Leo tried to hold his ground but was too weak to resist the impatient glare Liam was burning into his soul. After a brief moment, he rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Why ya gotta be such a dillhole, Liam? Do you realize you get rattled faster than a two-tit turtle on a tightrope? It's really not your best quality, little brother, but we can work on that." Annoyed, Liam rubbed a hand over his eyes and groaned as his brother continued, "Either way, Father always said, ‘if you can't help your fellow man out, you might as well become one of the Walkers.’ Truer words were never spoken so eloquently.”  Leo raised his eyes to the heavens thoughtfully before thinking better of it and lowered them toward the ground. "May you rest in peace, Father," he shouted.

As Leo trotted off to speak with Bald Dude to confess his false claim, Bastien helped guide Liam and Riley through the rambunctious swarm of reporters and spectators. Once they reached the limo, Liam helped Riley inside as Maxwell rounded the vehicle and climbed in on the other side. Pausing for a moment before sliding in, the King placed his hands on top of the open door of the limo and turned one last time to check on his friend. He swallowed hard over the guilt of leaving him behind. As His Majesty watched in horror, Drake took a tranquilizer dart to the back of the thigh and Bastien insisted the area was a security threat, shoving him inside. They would send another car to transport Drake and Leo back to the palace. 

Bastien stomped on the gas pedal and sped off, kicking up dirt and smoke as the tires peeled and squealed against the fiery Cordonian asphalt.

When they passed through the airport's security gate, a small motorcade following closely behind, Liam finally lifted his head, his eyes growing wide when he realized what just happened: Bastien's shove had sent Liam flying across the seat to land face-first into a lap — her lap. 

He stayed frozen in place, unable to look anywhere but the two slender, bronzed legs peeking out below the hem of his new wife's dress. 

Riley lifted an eyebrow, a slight grin dangling from her plush pink lips. "Something you wanna say, Your Majesty?"

Everything that had just happened in the 15 minutes since they landed was long forgotten. Drake who? Liam glanced up with a devilish smirk. "Welcome to Cordonia, Pussycat."

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