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moonlitdesertdreams · 8 months ago

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Skip the small talk

Request: None A/N: Again, I just want to thank everyone for supporting my stories and liking/commenting/reblogging/etc. It means the world to have such great reception to these one-shots. So please, enjoy this lil' story about the reader being a badass :) Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence, drug use, decapitation Summary: You really weren't looking for trouble. All you wanted was something to eat, but of course things go awry. This is the Wasteland, after all.

Word Count: 2.6k+

(Gif Credit to @acecroft)

Thunder booms across the Wasteland, combining with the sound of heavy rain on metal rooftops.

It continues in tandem with its partner Lighting, who illuminates the hazy green poison that hangs low in the air tonight. The storm has been raging for hours, and doesn’t seem to be on the verge of letting up anytime soon.

After hours of tossing and listening to the howl of the storm, you decide to give up on sleep for the moment. The inn room you’d acquired is small but cozy, lit only by a couple candles that burn bright orange on the side table. You untangle yourself from Cooper where he lies half-naked beside you, scarred skin on display while in the security of your arms. As per usual, he crankily grumbles curses at you for causing a disturbance, but there’s no malice behind the words. His eyes blink open and lock on to you, immediately more alert at the prospect of you venturing away.

“What’re y’doin’?” His question is thick with sleep, forced through the haze by this codependency you’ve developed on each other.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, and reach a hand back to brush his arm gently. “Thunder’s keeping me up. I’m gonna go see if the saloon downstairs has anything in the way of food.”

Cooper opens his mouth to respond, but a cough cuts him off. You pluck his inhaler from the nightstand and press it into his waiting hand. The cough wasn’t unusual, but you’d been traveling for days on end in search of a bounty and knew Cooper was putting on a facade of toughness. Everyone needed rest, and The Ghoul just didn’t know when to admit it.

“Go back to sleep.” You murmur, “I’ll only be a minute.”

He relents, but points a finger in your direction. “Fine. But they got anythin’ good, you bring me some back too, huh?”

You snatch the hand out of the air and press a kiss to his palm. “Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep.”

And since the Wasteland’s most fearsome bounty hunter would rather live through ten more atomic bombs than not have the last word, he scoffs.

“Bossy fuckin’ woman.”

You giggle at Cooper’s tough love as you tug thick tights and a long gray jacket onto your body. Out of pure habit, you look around for a weapon. Yours are stashed on the other side of the bed, but Cooper’s shotgun is propped against the wall by the door. You opt to grab it, slinging the gun onto your shoulder and making sure the strap is secure before cracking open the door.

The old clock hanging in the hall reads one thirty in the morning, but the sounds from the saloon downstairs continue as normal. Perhaps a bit more toned down than the daytime, but voices still mingle and dance together up the stairs. You trail after them, patting your pockets to ensure there’s enough caps to pay for a hot meal. Cooper’s half-canister of Jet and the wrinkled bounty poster sure ain’t going to pay for anything.

Eyes flicker towards you as you step onto the main floor, but they return back to their own tables soon enough. Everyone’s clad in raincoats or hats, outfitted for the weather. The town was a central point for a few settlements which popped up around it, and a major trade destination. The frequency of armed caravan guards passing through proved to be a rather decent deterrent for the unpleasant types, and most people had been nice to the point of frightening.

At the bar, you pull out a rusty stool and settle onto it. All the other patrons but one are at tables closer to the door. The same man who’d rented the room to Cooper and yourself is down the bar chatting.

“No surprise there. They’ve got some questionable folks runnin’ cargo these days.” The bartender is saying. He drops his hands on the bar. “But they take what they can get.”

The other man at the bar is older, just like the bartender. Dressed in dirty clothes, hood up with heavy gloves next to him, you figure he might be a lead farmer. You give a brief nod his way before focusing back on the bartender as he slides over.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” For someone out in the Wasteland, his face is kind. Weathered and probably suffering from radiation poisoning like the rest of you, but kind nonetheless.

“Got anything hot to eat back there?” You ask, but think better of it. “Or anything to eat?”

“You’re in luck. One of the trade caravans left us with an old brahmin yesterday. Fresh brahmin steak if it tickles your fancy?”

You toss the caps onto the bar. “Sign me up.”

He busies himself at the cooking station for a few minutes, and eventually delivers a steaming steak in front of you. He checks on the other bar-goer and floats back over to you after a few minutes.

“So, I have to ask.” He starts, “You came in here with that ghoul, yeah?”

You pause, mouth full and one hand instinctively freeing itself for a weapon if necessary. He must have caught onto your bristling, as he holds both hands up in a placating gesture.

“I’m sorry. It’s nothin’ bad, I was just curious. We don’t get a lot of ghouls around here, let alone people traveling with them.”

Hell, there was no need for him to tell you that. Cooper and yourself brought stares everywhere you went, discounting the cities you frequented that knew you both by reputation. You’d been called every name in the book in small communities like this, from chem-head, to ghoul-fucker and anything people could come up with.

“Yeah, we travel together. Easier to stay alive and make money when there’s two of us.” You saw off another piece of steak.

“Bounty hunters, then?”

You shrug. “Sometimes. We do whatever needs doing most of the time. If the price is right.”

If Cooper was next to you, he’d be spewing threats of dismemberment and cutting out tongues for all the questions, but you didn’t mind. It was nice meeting someone who wasn’t immediately training crosshairs on your body.

“Fair enough. I’m Clint, if you need anything.” The bartender wipes his hands with a rag and moves about his way, readjusting liquor bottles and carrying beers out to tables that are hollering for them.

You finish your steak and gulp down the water Clint had set in front of you at some point. It washes away the gamey taste of mutated beef. You wait for him to return, as you were sure that fresh brahmin steak qualified as ‘anything good’ in Cooper’s eyes.

“This seat taken?”

You barely glance over your shoulder at the question, but give a half-hearted shrug. There was a whole bar and whoever this idiot is wants to sit next to you?

“Nuh-uh.”

The stool scrapes against the uneven wood floor, and you look over at the man that’s sat himself beside you. He’s younger than you expected, but vaguely familiar as if you’ve passed by him before. Brown hair slicked back close to his skull and shaved on the sides, and a distinct pale discoloration on his chin. There’s a valiant attempt at beard growth but it’s patchy at best.

You stare for just a moment before returning to the drops of water left in your dirty cup.

“Now, I can see you’re not from around here.” His tone is boyish, almost conceited.

Narrowly resisting an eyeroll, you set your cup back down. “Aren’t you just a right scholar?”

“I know a few things.” He waves his hand at Clint as he returns, and a beer is set in front of him moments later. “I know that you rode into town tonight, looking for a bounty.”

Lightning illuminates all of the cracks in the building. Thunder rolls.

It takes a moment, but hits you as a smile is breaking out across the man’s face. You hadn’t passed by him before or traded. Your hand ghosts over the folded-up bounty poster in the pocket of your coat.

“Name’s Spade, by the way.”

Fuck. You’d never forget the name of a bounty. Especially the one set to inherit an entire Gunner outfit that had been threatening caravans for miles in every direction.

“Spade, huh? Named after a shovel?” You prod. “No wonder you ain’t good at making friends.”

Spade calmly sips on his beer. “Neither are you, I hear. Though that might be due to your choice in company.”

Turning your head all the way towards him, you entertain the banter. Trying to avoid the subject of having a partner. You didn’t doubt if the shooting started that Cooper would come running down the stairs, but surprise is always an advantage.

“Yeah, I’m starting to question it myself.”

“I heard you were funny.” Spade chuckles, and withdraws a bulky device from underneath his coat. It crackles and pops like a geiger counter. “But I know you didn’t come here alone.”

You listen to the device pop, but don’t recognize it.

“Say, how much Rad-Away do you go through? Traveling, eating, sleeping and whatever else with The Ghoul must really fuck with your health. His radiation signature is all over you.” Spade tucks the device away.

“Don’t worry, I wear lead-lined panties.” You pat your thighs and stand. “And I don’t have time for this.”

Just as you make it to your feet, you notice the rest of the patrons do the same. They all shrug off their raincoats and reveal standard Gunner clothing, and you pause. Betraying nothing, you simply stare. Counting eleven opponents including Spade. Too busy thinking about how you grabbed Cooper’s shotgun and no extra ammo because you’re apparently a fool. The one combat knife in your boot is a viable choice, but tough to handle so many. You note Clint’s swift exit out the back door of the establishment.

“All this firepower for me?”

Spade follows suit, and stands. He towers over you.

“Don’t play dumb. I know they want me dead, and I’m not keen on letting that happen.”

You nod. “Understandable.”

And it’s then one of his men gets twitchy, and you’re diving behind the bar at the cocking of a gun.

Spade hollers something at the men that sound suspiciously like “kill her”, but the thunder drowns him out. You press your back up against the bar for cover, and whip the shotgun into your grip. You feel at the knife in your boot, and brush past the Jet in your pocket.

“Fuck it.”

You draw out the inhalant and put it between your lips. Bracing for the adrenaline rush, you squeeze the Chems into your mouth. Not much of a frequent user, you resist the urge to cough and waste the effects.

In just a few seconds, the world around you feels as if it’s moving in slow motion. You leap up from behind the bar, aiming and popping off the two rounds you have into the groupies that Spade brought along. One slug crashes through two of them while the other blows another’s head to pieces.

Three down, eight to go.

You sling the gun back over your shoulder and draw the knife. In your peripheral, you notice Spade reaching for his waistband. On pure instinct, you whip the knife in his direction. It finds his mark in his right eye, and he goes to the ground wailing. Just as the Jet begins to wear thin, you hop over the bar towards the crowd.

“Fuck her up!”

You bend down near Spade’s writing frame, and rip the knife out of his eye socket with a wet squelch. Leaving him for last, you twirl the knife around and beckon at his cronies.

“Well?”

You lunge towards the closest, thrusting the knife at his throat. He catches your wrist and twists it away, but you’re quick to jam your elbow upwards into his chin. It stuns him just enough that you can stab the knife into his guts and rip sideways. Entrails spill, and you reach through them to grab the pipe pistol at his hip.

The next few go down via bullet, and you’re eventually left with only Spade alive. He’s clawed his way to his feet as you finished off his gang, and now has an automatic pistol pointed at your head. It wavers dangerously, as he’s half-blind and still spurting blood from the wounded eye socket.

You drop the pistol that’s been occupying your right hand and hold up the knife.

“Wanna get reacquainted?”

Spade bares his teeth at you. “And here we brought all the guns for The Ghoul.”

A shrug. “I’m sort of offended that I was underestimated.”

“I’ll make a note of it.”

Spade pulls the trigger as soon as you duck. His intentions were given away by the fractional squint of his good eye, struggling to aim properly. You charge towards him beneath the rounds, colliding with his knees. The bullets fly upwards, blasting holes in a narrow column up the wall. It sends splinters flying near the staircase.

“Motherfucker!”

About fucking time Cooper decided to show up.

You straddle Spade’s body and knock the pistol away. One boot keeps his wrist pinned down, and you bring the knife to his neck.

“Next time,” You growl, tracing the blade along his Adam’s Apple, “Skip the small talk.”

Blood sprays as you apply pressure, puncturing through his carotid. You drag the knife to the side, leaning away to avoid the spray as best as possible. Until he stops twitching, you keep him pinned to the ground.

“Well goddamn baby, next time invite me to the party.” The Ghoul, as Spade had referred to him, swaggers over to you. His honey-soaked eyes survey the carnage. “I thought you was gettin’ something to eat, not takin’ out our bounty so soon.”

You wipe your bloody hands on Spade’s coat and huff indignantly. “And I thought your old ass would move faster when you heard gunshots.”

Cooper holds out a gloved hand to help you up. “Thunder blocked out the sound.”

“Excuses, excuses.” You grumble, allowing him to pull you up.

The world spins, thanks to the adrenaline fading and Jet withdrawals. You stagger into Cooper, and he grips your arm.

“You ain’t shot, are ya? Left the stimpaks upstairs.”

You shake your head and let him steer you onto a barstool. “Nah. Jet.”

Cooper whoops. “My girl! Well shouldn’t we just be celebratin’ this momentous occasion.”

“Fuck you. I’m not doing anything but going back to bed.” You press your forehead into his chest. “Fuckin’ Chems.”

The Ghoul chuckles and uses two fingers to hold and lift your chin. He kisses your lips, already dry from licking at them. You hold the lapels of his coat to keep upright and only pull away when another pang of dizziness wracks you.

He steps away for a moment, and gets to work removing Spade’s head from his body to return for the money.

“Damn.” You rub your temples. “How the hell do you use that shit all the time?”

“Years of practice.” Cooper hums, and finds a burlap sack behind the bar to package the head. “Sure worked good for you, huh?”

You hop from the stool, using the bar as a crutch to stay upright. “Uh huh, right up until it didn’t. Now I wanna go to bed. Desperately.”

“Fine, fine.” Cooper relents, bloody sack in hand. He follows you to the stairs, free hand ghosting over your hip.

The Ghoul hovers behind as if you’re going to start cartwheeling back down, and herds you back into the rented room. You strip and crawl back in bed, hiding away from the cool air beneath the blanket. Cooper takes his time, but eventually blesses you with his body heat. You cozy up, letting it burn away the symptoms of Jet withdrawals.

“Did you ever get somethin’ to eat?”

thanks for reading, much love ❤

In case you missed it

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer IS COMING IN SEPTEMBER!!!! (Yeah this is gonna sit here until then)

Next Week Looks Like This:

Ooo, nice spread.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming This Month!

8/12 First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) 12 eps - About a singer with stage fright and his timid fan stars Charles (H4 the puppy one) and Michael Chang (the youngster in My Tooth Your Love), plus side couple featuring a Thai actor Jame (Koh in Gen Y) and Liu Min Ting (of Guardian fame). What a damn tean. I can't wait. With thier powers combined!

8/13 Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues YT) 10 eps - supposedly Jinlo with air this on their YT channel. Stars August (Love Sick) so I'm excited despite Jinlo's poor reputation. From the trailer it looks like it's following the original pretty closely... just Thai style. GIMMEEEEE!!!!

8/16 The Last Time (Thai Fri YT) ? eps - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something.

8/22 The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) 12 eps - announced in 2023 this one has a high school set stepbrothers trope and is reputed to be high heat. From Taiwan! It's made for me. Based on a novel Mou Mou from the Your Name Engraved Herein folks, so it could go dark. Still, I'm very excited.

8/22 The Paradise of Thorns (Thai movie) theater release - Jeff Satur is back but this does not look like a BL (the gay lover's death is the inciting event). More in Goodbye Mother vein. Looks dark and dramatic. He opposite and extremely well known actor Toey Pongsakorn who has never done gay before.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Linguistic flirting trope! One of my all time favorites. FANTASTIC. (I did keep hearing Gun yelling Papiiiiiii! in my head tho.)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

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immortal-raine · 1 month ago

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A few random whitebeard’s headcanons:

- In hot weather Atoms can be seen laying flat on his back sunbathing no matter how busy it gets on the main deck

- Whitebeard actually likes to banter with his kids about his health, it’s a guilty pleasure seeing his kids worry about him (smh someone get this old man)

- Rakuyo frequently overhears crew members secrets purely by accident. Rakuyo had trouble keeping it to himself so he avoided long conversations, worried it’ll slip out, cause when he starts talking he can’t stop, having no control of what comes out, but he found comfort in telling it all to Curiel, Curiel doesn’t care for rumors or secrets so he doesn’t mind having Rokuyo act as personal podcast while he works

- Haruta enjoys mysteries from mystery books, mysterious rumors, to Mysterious islands. He’s all up for it until it gets too paranormal, he’ll try to disprove it but once he can’t, it scares the crap out of him. (He’ll be thinking about it for weeks)

- Thatch loves telling spooky stories, he’s so good at telling them that he scares himself sometimes (Marco is tired of him having “surprise sleepovers” in his room (with the addition of Haruta and Jozu sometimes) these nights he actually go to sleep on time instead of pulling another all nighter to finish paperwork)

- Jozu is naturally superstitious and Thatch’s stories doesn’t help one bit, he gets struck with insomnia some nights (you can catch him asking Thatch was the stories true the next day or asking his other brothers if they believe it’s true, he just needs a bit of reassurance)

- Whitey bay bought all of Haruta clothes when he joined, she daunted on him a lot when he was younger, he ended up with her taste in clothes and some of her personality

- Izo has to make his kimonos himself, it’s one of the many forms of art he enjoys but like any artist, he’s got bad spending habits, spending chunks of his funds on different textured n patterned fabrics, different threads, and whatever else the shop owners swore he needed, he started giving half his money to Marco to hold for some type of control.

- Izo wrote many letters to Kiku, so many it could’ve became a travel log, it was later burned up with the moby during the paramount war.

- Rakuyo loves cats but has cat allergies, he sneezes like crazy with his eyes watering with no control as he nuzzles a kitten.

- Kingdew has pollen allergies, also of sneezing variety.

- Vista has an affinity for cats, he doesn’t take any in because of how of Rakuyo gets.

- Thatch has an affinity for all animals especially the large vicious ones, “Why bad if friend shaped” mentality. (He’d fold immediately if he seen a lion taking a nap with its paws covering it’s face)

- Marco has an affinity for birds (ofc) but gets irritated with them if they come bothering him too much, he still ends up feeding them. When he’s grumbling about the birds Thatch calls it “family drama”.

- Blamenco’s whole division holds pride in their craft, him included, they got a friendly rivalry with galley la workers (even though some of them are from galley la, it’s fun to to talk shit even if it’s your old friends) Galley la is always loud with banter and laughter when they come by to pick up materials.

#whitebeard pirates #one piece #thatch one piece #marco one piece #whitebeards #nuggets #one piece haruta #jozu #Atoms one piece #izou one piece #Rakuyo one piece #one piece headcanons

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tenjikufag · 8 months ago

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Hello!! Hi I really love your stories. Uhm if I can ask, can you do a fluff of Dr ratio from honkai star rail x male reader. Once again I love your stories and creativity. <3<3<3

Let’s look at the stars.

Dr. Ratio x male reader

- Fluff, no warnings

-note, I apologize for ooc content (I’m not all too familiar with this character.)

“-immense pressures and temperatures in the star's core squeeze the nuclei of hydrogen atoms together to form helium, a process called nuclear fusion…”

Late nights spent listening to your partners current interest were quite common, you loved to hear him speak with such enthusiasm.. he was in his element and you couldn’t be more happy to be the person he chooses, time and time again, to share it with.

This time, his current studying led him to the stars. Many dumb them down to dead balls of gas, but to him they were so much more. Even if he wasn’t all that big on sentimental things, something about the stars only showing their bright beauty after dying- it moved him in a way.

The two of you laid under the stars, only giving him hums in response to assure him that you were listening. Not that you could ever get a word in, he kept explaining his findings and moving his hands outwards to point to the many constellations, the pathways, which stars had names and what they meant..

“Did you know stars don’t actually twinkle? The proper phrase for it would be scintillate, which only happens when they find themselves among the horizon..”

“Then where do you think the phrase came from?”

Glancing over at him, his lip curled into a smile at the question.. he didn’t have an answer for that, it was more of a metaphorical phrase and the ties to such a phrase would be as endless as a black hole. So, he only smiled and half-heartedly brushed off not knowing such an answer.

“Oh? The doctor doesn’t have an answer?”

The male chuckled, turning his head to look at you with a soft smile.

“Hm, although I know you ask in jest..”

You watched as he sat up, moving to hover his head just above yours.

“Let me conduct a.. study if you will..”

The love in his eyes reflected your own. Nodding, you let him instruct you.

Grabbing your hand, he held it firmly in his own and pressed it into his chest. He then instructed you to close your eyes and timed you to keep them shut for a few seconds.

“Now open..”

You felt his breathe on your lips, noses almost touching but he kept a strong gaze into your pupils.. he watched as they dilated and how they..

Twinkled.

Satisfied, he laughed to himself

“Just as I thought..”

He moved to straddle your waist, now holding both of your hands and again dipped down to closely watch your eyes and how the stars reflected in your irises.

“The term "twinkling stars" is derived from the Old English word "twincan," which means "to twinkle or blink.”

Sitting up, he found himself staring back up at the sky to observe the stars align and glancing down back to your eyes to see how the light refracted..

“This term was likely used to describe the flickering or shimmering appearance of stars in the night sky, which is caused by the Earth's atmosphere…”

Your body followed his, chests pressed against one another and arms now wrapped around his slim waist.

“Is that actually true? Or are you simply making things up again?”

He laughed, clasping your face in his hands in delight.

“It’s true dear, don’t think I didn’t account for such a question from you. I’m honestly.. quite flattered you’d think I could lie to you about such an intimate thing..”

Intimate?

“I see those gears turning, Y/n. Stars are seen as signs of affection by many people, looking up to see the same stars their loved ones are seeing or maybe even looking for their lover among them..”

His smile faltered, the gaze he held no longer as strong. You felt his lips plant themselves on you. Smiling into the kiss, he pushed you back to lay on the plush grass beneath you- hands moving to hold your neck and caress his fingers along your jaw. When he pulled away, an uncharacteristic bashful blush covered his cheeks..

“Even though my study was fruitful, and I quite enjoyed it..”

Lips met yours again, but for a small loving peck

“I must say.. I enjoy studying these ‘twinkling’ stars in your eyes much more..”

He left one more chaste kiss on your lips before sliding off of you, returning to his spot beside you.

The man would learn everything through you if he could, but to use his studying to show his adoration to you was something he’d never thought would be possible- it never crossed his mind before you came into his life.

He’d study a million stars if he got to see them in your eyes.

I really hope this was okay, and not too ooc- thank you for the request!

#hsr x male reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader #hsr x reader #hsr oneshots #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x male reader #fluff

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the-poets-might-disagree · 9 months ago

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how Denis Villeneuve built Paul and Chani's love story in Dune Part Two – from beginning to end

In their first romantic scene together Chani goes after Paul into the desert because she knows he won’t last on his own. By this point in time she already starts to fear for him- she knows he is brave and a good fighter, but she also knows it’s not enough. „You sandwalk like a drunk lizard!” We see her teaching him the sandwalk. This is when their melody is first played in the movie, this time it's quiet yet, merely an introduction. He is proud enough to say he knows how to sandwalk, but wise enough to admit he has a lot to learn from her. So he listens.

And listens and listens, earning her trust little by little. „You know I’m the only one who believes you’re gonna make it ’till the summer”. There is a scene here when you can’t even hear what she is saying. Instead it’s their melody playing still, while we see Paul’s (all smitten) face watching her, just explaining things to him.

Second important scene is when during the first fight, Chani’s life is in danger, and Paul jumps on her without a doubt in a split second, to protect her life with his own. They share a quick meaningful look before they get up from the ground. There are no questions left in her after this.

Third. In the tent after he was named Usul and Muad’Dib. Paul speaks chakobsa, with a proud look written on his face, and there are many people present, but it's all for her. He wants to be one of her people so badly, he does everything he can. And it's working, Chani is watching him speak as if he invented it. When Stilgar invites Paul to join him, he looks at her. Chani is nodding and so he gets up. It’s always her approval he is looking for. Everyone is hugging Paul and it’s Chani’s turn. We see their faces slowly touching, her lingering there for a moment.

The fourth one is when she gives in. We see them sitting together, watching the sunset. Her telling him about her name in the prophecy. „Your blood comes from dukes and great houses. We are not like that. Here, we are equal.” „I’d very much like to be equal to you.” She is smiling back at him „Maybe I’ll show you the way.”. Their first kiss- the melody returns for the second time. A little later she is shown leaning on him, literally. He has earned not only her trust, but her love, too.

This is when his nightmares start to kick in. He knows he can’t go south. At this point she starts to wear blue, which in the fremen culture (in the books) means a woman is pregnant – was changed in the movie to be the symbol of being in love or being taken.

We see their only love making scene. They are just laying there on each other, but she cannot turn her thoughts off. „There will be trouble.” „What are you talking about?” „The way they are looking at you. They worship you now.” She fears what is to come for him, but he reassures her. „I’m no messiah”. She then warms him about the stories his mother is spreading. During this scene their melody returns for the third time, programming our ears and brains to connect it to their intimacy and bond.

When Gurney appears, Chani thinks he is not to be trusted. Paul says "he is family" and as soon as he does she gets up to help him. It's the small things that tell you at this point that she will do anything for him, as long as it is the right thing to do.

Paul telling her about the Atreides atomic arsenal in the tent. How it could change everything. This is when we first see him being slightly intrigued by power. "You promised me you didn't want power". Paul switching it back on her with "no matter what I do, you still don't trust me". He is offended and tells her that he is fighting for her people, no matter what.

When they visit the arsenal you can see how scared she is. Paul is confused, but proud of his legacy- even if it is one that is big enough to destroy their planet. Their differences keep growing. He keeps having nightmares about losing her.

The final conflict in him is people pressuring him to go south, but he says he cannot, because he is afraid of the fundamentalists. Chani is the moral compass still, and she emphasizes he is right to be afraid of them.

"The world has made choices for us." Sounds like the beginning of a goodbye. We watch their last intimate scene together before it all changes irreversibly. "If I go south, I might lose you." "You will never lose me, not as long as you stay who you are". Tears rolling down his face. He knows already how much he is about to give up. She has no idea. "I will do what must be done". We see their goodbye kiss.

He drinks the water of life. She is furious but she runs to his rescue. She refuses to do so, but compelled by the voice, she saves his life- as it was written in the prophecy. When he wakes up she makes sure first that he is feeling well, then she slaps him and leaves. He emerges with a facial expression that is pure evil. At this point we know he is innocent no more and has switched to his dark side, the one that gives into power.

"She'll come to understand. I've seen it." He is so sure he can do whatever, and he'll still have her by his side... But when he arrives to speak at the gathering, Chani is the only one who doesn't kneel in front of him. He is still her equal in her head.

"I'm pointing the way!" as he shouts we can also see a switch in her. He's losing her. She's not looking at him lovingly at all anymore as she realizes it's her worst fear becoming reality in front of her eyes, and he is not the person she fell in love with anymore. She's angry, she loses hope, she's disappointed. Is about to give up on him.

When they go into battle, she still wears the blue scarf, not on her head anymore but on her arm. Still there with her, but barely.

The final scene. Everyone's gathering. He orders Gourney to bring the prisoners and then stops for one last moment before it's all about to go down. He looks behind his back. Chani's standing there, keep looking at him while he is about to walk up to her. Her facial expressions are childlike, showing how devastated and afraid she is, but she says "this isn't over yet" as if she was still hanging onto something. "I want you to know..." he says but he is looking at the ground, afraid to look her in the eye "...I will love you as long as I breathe". They lock eyes. It's his final moment to confess his everlasting love for her. Pain is written in his eyes. He knows it is goodbye, but she still has no idea what's about to happen. She sighs and swallows, furrowing her brows. No answer.

The prisoners arrive. Chani lifts her head up, trying to collect herself and stand proud. When he tells the emperor he is about to take his daughter's hand in marriage, we see Chani's face immediately. Her jaw drops. When he says "we will rule together", she is literally breathless, her eyes darting. She bites her lip before she looks up in disbelief. Straightening her pose once again, wanting to maintain her dignity.

Before Paul and Feyd-Rautha start their fight, Paul sneaks one last look at her to gather his strength. The music stops. We can only hear the knives and breaths during the fight. When he's on the ground, he can't help himself and looks for her. "She's your pet?" asks Feyd-Rautha. Chani shakes her head, visibly disgusted. Feyd-Rautha starts walking towards her, so Paul gets up immediately. This is when he knows he is going to end this man. But he gets stabbed and looks for her with fear in his eyes. Chani holds her breath in disbelief and her eyes widen.

He can barely breathe anymore, but he wins the fight. Chani is relieved, and gasps for air herself. Paul turns back to her, before he talks to the emperor. Her face lights up, showing how special he makes her feel in this exact moment, but in a second, her gestures return to the childlike frown that shows how betrayed she feels. Paul demands the emperor to kiss his father's ring. He does, the music starts again and the whole room gets on their knees.

Princess Irulan, Paul and Chani are the only ones left standing in the room. We hear their melody return, and build into something that is a lot bigger than them, and it's meant to break our hearts with the bittersweet sound. It was all about them leading up to this moment, and now they are no more. Irulan takes a look at the two of them, and realizes it all. Chani is shattered. Paul is not facing the Princess, but watches Chani leave (this is the last scene she is wearing blue), refusing to be a fool like everyone else. He shuts his eyes. He's never been in this much pain before, but he cannot show it. With her, Paul's last pieces of humanity leave, too.

#ive come a long way since ive called their love bs #this post took me bawling my eyes out four different times at the movies at the final scene #dune #dune part two #chani x paul #paul x chani #denis villeneuve #paul atreides #chani kynes #mine

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nathanbatemanfucker · 1 year ago

Text

In Plain Sight, Ch 5: To Atomize

summary: nathan leaves his house to tell you he loves you.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, mentions of sick/dying parent, pining, dom/sub dynamics, mid love confessions, oral (m + f receiving), p in v sex, creampie, squirting, NATHAN’S SO IN LOVE AND SIMPY AND FREE

wc: 6,138

an: we've sadly reached the end of the main story. thank you thank you for all the support on this fic. a girl watches ex machina once and suddenly is writing 20+k for an asshole simp. i do plan to write the extras fairly quickly (the next month or so) and they'll vary in length. i hope y'all stick around for more of them.

You and Nathan are doing work out on the couch, your legs thrown over his. It’s all very domestic, something the both of you could get used to.

He doesn’t look up when he asks, “That date out— do you still want it?”

“I do but honestly, I don’t think it’s realistic. You like being out here, Emma and Phillipa shouldn’t be at home by themselves for so long— not to mention my mom.”

“You don’t talk about your mom,” He observes, his eyes rising from his laptop to look at you.

You continue your work as you talk, “There’s too much to talk about. And nothing at all.”

“And the vagueness returns,” There’s more bite in his voice than he wants there to be, but he can’t help it.

You notice immediately— going rigid like stone before you fix him with an empty gaze. “She’s dying. She can’t work. She sleeps most days. In the mornings before I come here, I read to her and when I get home I tell her I love her and kiss her goodnight. Is that specific enough for you, Mr. Bateman?”

Nathan just looks at you, his eyes for once, void of any emotion to tell you how he’s feeling. Nathan 3 months ago would have stormed away, or said something snarky. But, he just keeps looking at you. The silence makes you uncomfortable and your words replay in your mind over and over, guilt building each time. Your mother’s a tender subject, but Nathan is…more than anyone has ever been to you despite not making that clear to him. You open your mouth to apologize but he shushes, closing his laptop and then yours before he pulls you into his lap and holds you close.

He kisses at your temple, your forehead, your cheek, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

It shouldn’t catch you off guard, his affection and tenderness but it does. You melt into him even as your walls go up inside. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, honey. It’s not. Can you tell me what—“

“Cancer. Off and on since I was in high school.”

“You’ve been taking care of your sisters off and on since they were born?”

You shrug. It was true. In the moment, when you and your mother had made those decisions together— your father wishing and washing his way in and out of your lives whenever he felt like— they hadn’t seemed like a big deal. But, Nathan’s tone can’t help but make you realize how much you’d missed out on because of your duty to your family.

“Shit, honey.”

“It’s alright, Nathan,” You breathe. It’s not, it’s never been okay, but you’ve been telling yourself that for as long as you can remember.

“It’s not. You’re a good fucking woman. You and your family deserve better.”

“They do deserve better. My sisters don’t have a time remembering her like I do. Before she got sick. That’s fucked up isn’t it?”

“Yeah, baby, it is.” His hold on your tightens, a hand smoothing up and down your back. “Let me take you out for one night.”

“Nathan, I just said—“

He takes your jaw into his hands, intentional yet gentle with his grip as he guides you to look at him. Those big brown eyes are warm but firm. “We’ll do it in the city. I’ll pick you up from your apartment, you’ll be a phone call away. I’ll bring you home first thing in the morning. C’mon baby, you deserve a break. Let me give it to you.”

—

You agree to Nathan’s advances, like you always do these days. This date takes a lot of coordinating— but somehow it all turned out in your favor. Nathan jokes that it’s because of his god-like will. You’re just happy to take the breather when it’s presented to you. Emma gets invited to her first sleepover, Phillipa’s school is having a lock in. Somehow, Nathan had convinced you to accept him paying for one day of round the clock care for your mother so her usual nurse, Celia, could have a day off too.

You’re realizing that maybe you’re just as gone for him as he is for you. That you believe what he’s said about the depths of his feelings for you and maybe, you’re ready to take the next step and allow yourself to feel them openly for him too. How quickly the tide turns. How quickly Nathan had put in the effort to show how badly he wanted this— you. 3 months ago you could say with sincere surety that you did not like Nathan Bateman. And now…well you were sure you couldn’t deny loving him.

He tells you to dress formally— it lands you in your favorite black dress, the one that always gives you a boost of confidence and makes you feel good. You’re going to need if your racing thoughts about how your feelings have deepened are any indicator for how the evening will go. And maybe, once or twice, you’ve imagined Nathan peeling you out of it when your fingers slipped beneath your waistband late at night.

When you open the door, Nathan’s in a crisp white button down and slacks, a suit jacket draped over his shoulders— your knees nearly give out. So do his.

“Fuck me,” He breathes.

“My neighbors can hear you,” You remind him breathlessly, your face hot as his eyes slowly trace your figure.

“They should be lucky we’re not staying here or they’d hear a hell of a lot more. Fuck. You look incredible, baby.”

“My eyes are up here.”

“I’ve seen enough of those.”

“Nathan.”

“Can you fucking blame me? You walk out here in this tight little dress, one I imagine will stay on until after dinner, which is a fucking sin if you ask me. I’m giving commotion for the dress honey, it is what it is. Come here,” He reaches for you, snaking his arm around your waist so he can kiss you thoroughly. When he breaks the kiss he whispers, “Hi.”

Some of your nerves dissipate at his clear attraction to you, his sweetness. You smile against his mouth, bumping his nose with your own. “Hi. You look so handsome.”

“Thank you,” He murmurs, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Patience and good manners, you’re a changed man yet.”

“Does that mean if I ask to feel you up in the limo, you’ll say yes?”

“My neighbors, Nathan,” You remind him sternly, though you’re still smiling.

“Stuffy old fucks probably need a good show.”

“Walk.”

—

The limo ride to the nearby docks is 40 minutes with the traffic — and he helps you out like a gentleman, guiding you to a moderately sized boat. It’s impressive, all cream and blues, the

“Nathan, why is there a helicopter next to this boat?”

“In case you need to get home,” He says simply, if that explanation is enough.

“In case— we got here by limo.”

“You’re a phone call and a 10 minute helicopter ride away from your family.”

How were you gonna make it through dinner without dragging him to the ground so you could ruck up your dress and fuck him? He was saying all of this, doing all of this so nonchalantly, like it isn’t the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.

He leans in, mouth and beard tickling your cheek as his whispers teasingly, “This is usually where people say thank you.”

You lean away, giggling a little. Your tone is suggestive, “What if I’m saving my thank you until after dinner?”

“Finally gonna show me some of those methods? It’s been driving me fucking nuts, honey.”

“Depends on how good you are.”

Nathan bites back a moan. This is all so fucking surreal. Being out of his home, being with you. Learning more and more about you, seeing you. Being yours and you being his. It’s more than he could’ve hoped for. He thought he would’ve fucked up by now— and he has, but you held a selfless amount of patience in your heart. He finds himself feeling…grateful? It’s an unfamiliar feeling, one he pushes away from a young age.

“Don’t be filthy before dinner,” He murmurs lowly.

“You‘ve been eyeing my tits since you picked me up,” You challenge.

“I’ve been appreciating them, there’s a difference. You ever been on a boat before?”

You eye the boat thoughtfully, “My mom used to take me on the ferry. Does that count?”

Nathan hums. He hasn’t ushered you onto the boat just yet, the two of you standing out on the docks in the salty breeze. It’s nice, being out in the fresh air like this, the water dark as the sun finishes dipping below the horizon. He’d anticipated much more anxiety given his hermit tendencies but it was just you and him and the few staff he’d hired to manage the boat.

“Do you want to name it?” He blurts out all of a sudden.

“Name what?”

“The boat,” He nods towards the ship.

You frown, confused. “You haven’t named the boat?”

“I bought it last week.”

“Nathan, did you buy this boat to take me out on a date?”

“Yes I did,” He says with no shame.

All of that will be an adjustment, the blasé way that he spends money— especially when he spends it on you. You know that he has a fuck ton of it but still; you’ve never lived a life of luxury.

“Do all employees get this sign-on bonus?” You tease.

“Hush, cheeky girl. Name the boat.”

You grow thoughtful, and that thoughtfulness quickly melts into a melancholic, wistful feeling. You think about your mom. How she’s been swayed back and forth by the tide of life, doing her best to float above it all. It would be nice wouldn’t it, to name something after the woman you love most?

“Boats are named after strong women. So I think…Tiana,” You murmur, voice full of emotion. You clear your throat quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice.

But Nathan’s obsessed with you— and now that you’ve let him in, he can sense every push and pull. He maneuvers you so that your back is flush with his front. “I like it. Tiana…is that your mother?”

You don’t trust your voice. You simply hum, nodding a little bit as you press back against him.

He squeezes you tighter, “It’s perfect, baby. Absolutely fucking perfect.

He cups your jaw with one hand, guiding your gaze to his. He’s never seen you nonverbal like this before, never seen sadness in your eyes like this. It makes his chest ache. He guides your mouth to his, kissing you with gentle reverence you never would’ve guessed he was capable of until recently.

Nathan just holds you, letting you melt against him in silence for an undetermined amount of time. His worry grows. “Do you want to call the nurse before we sit down for dinner? Emma? Phillipa?”

Finally, you speak. “No. No, it’s alright. I spend the entire day away from all of them when I’m working for you— I can do this.”

“Just say the word, okay, sweetheart?”

You lean in to give him a soft peck of appreciation, “Yes, I will. Thank you, Nathan.”

Dinner is much more elaborate than it had to be— but this is Nathan you’re talking about, a man with practically the entire world at his fingertips. Of course a 10 course meal makes sense to him. Not that you’re complaining about a personal sized crawl through Italy; breads and antipasto, pastas of all sorts, wines that are perfectly paired, and to end your favorite dessert from the first time the two of you shared a meal together. Despite his underestimating himself and his chaste manner, you think that Nathan is good at romance. He’s great at romance. By the time you’re finishing the last bite, you’re warm and full, a little buzzed and most importantly— needy for him.

Your entire body is craving his. You’ve denied your desires and his for long enough. You need him, you feel like you might go insane with lust— with love, if you don’t have him.

“Are we sleeping here?”

“There’s a suite downstairs, or there’s a hotel nearby I reserved. It’s your call.”

“Here…here is good. Will you take me to bed?” You ask, nonchalantly.

Nathan chokes on the wine he’s sipping, setting it down to looking at you more intently. “Take you to bed,” He repeats.

“Yes, Nathan, take me to bed,” You practically purr at him this time, voice low and smoky.

Nathan has had lots of sex in his life, never been flustered or taken aback by anyone. He’s accepted that all of his past experiences go out the window when it comes to you, but he doesn’t expect such a strong reaction out of himself when faced with the opportunity to finally ravish you. He feels like if he stood up right now, his legs would give out like jello.

The way you’re looking at him— he’s sure no one has ever looked at him like this in his entire life. Carnal and hungry, like when you kissed him breathless in the forest, but more intense. It’s almost overwhelming. He’s never been consumed before, and that’s exactly how you’re looking at him. Like you’re going to swallow him whole. His cock twitches and he takes a deep breath.

“Come here,” He says softly, pushing away from the table and holding his hand out for you.

You stand, moving closer to him but don’t take his hand. “If I touch you…if we start here, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

Nathan feels winded. He squeezes his eyes shut, and nods. “Fuck, honey, alright. Follow me.”

Nathan guides you through the dining room and down a hall, not even bothering to mention what doors the two of you pass. His heart is pounding in his chest— he’s ready for this, been ready for so long and he wants this to mean something. He had been ready to wait as long as you needed in order for this moment to be everything it can be.

The suite he takes you to is larger than you anticipated it to be, but you can’t bring yourself to care. As soon as Nathan shuts the door behind you, you practically launch yourself at him, your hands starting at where his shirt is tucked into his pants. You ruck it up, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Whoa, mmm,” He hums into your mouth. His hands finally fall to cup your ass, kneading and squeezing the way he’s wanted to for hours now. “You been this desperate the whole time?”

“Have you?” You counter as you press him against the door, grinding your hips against his. You can feel him through the fabric of his trousers, and it makes your mouth water.

“Fuck, baby, lemme get you on the bed at least,” He breathes when he feels the way your hips rut.

You pull away, looking at him with bright but hazy eyes— like he’s just come up with some revolutionary idea. “The bed, right. Come here.”

You start to walk backwards, guiding him with you by his shirt. Once the back of your thighs hit the bed, you switch positions with him, encouraging him to sit down so that you can straddle him. Nathan feels weightless— this is like his dream come true. Just a couple months ago he was jerking himself off imagining a sight like this, and now he was living it.

Looking up at you, he feels warm. Fuzzy. Like he’s in the safest place he’ll ever be in. With his limited data and hope, trust— things he’s never had with anyone— he knows that he is. This is all he’ll ever need. You’re all he’ll ever need. He loves you so much it hurts.

“Baby,” He sighs, guiding your mouth down to his. Where your mouth is hurried and insistent, his is lazy and indulgent. He wants to savor every moment.

“Hmm,” You hum grinding down against his clothed cock in a move that makes both of you moan.

“I fucking love you.”

You lean away, eyes wide with alarm. Part of you, most of you, thought that to be true. Well— whatever he was capable of feeling that was close to love. He’s proved himself to you. All of his intentions, his actions, his words— no matter how haphazard he’s been in communicating them— have been pure. While just a few months ago you were sure Nathan could love no one but himself, you’re sure now that he’s being completely honest. It sends you further into your frenzy. He loves you.

Nathan Bateman fucking loves you.

You’re quiet for so long that he feels antsy. There’s no regret, no anger in his heart like he thought there could be when first pursuing you. But he is starting to feel small, like a nuisance like his parents made him feel all those years ago.

“Really?” You ask breathlessly, unsure if it’s from his declaration or your body’s response to being pressed against him like this.

He scoffs, squeezing your hips, “Really? You think I fucking—“

“Okay, alright, I love you too.”

“Really?”

You fix him with narrowed eyes. Of course you get scolded but he gets to do the exact same thing as you. It’s very Nathan. It makes you love him more.

“Nathan.”

“My really is fucking justified, I’m some asshole, you’re…you’re the moon. The sun. The sky. I’m not good at this poetic shit but I mean it.”

“You’re the sweetest, most thoughtful, insightful and just— kind. I know what you’re thinking, I know that something or someone’s taught you not to think that you’re kind and worthy but you are. Even if you’re an asshole and a clown, you are. And I love you.”

“We’re fucking corny and sickly sweet and so cliche. I could vomit,” He says, his grin wide and genuine.

You nuzzle into him, laughing softly at the tickle of his beard, “You would study it, see if it quantified any of your love for me.”

“So you think I’m disgusting,” He murmurs, using his grip on you to rock your hips down against his cock.

The pressure is sweet, and you shiver even as you try to get your voice even. “Am I wrong?”

He laughs a little, eyes fluttering when you help him rock you down even further, “No.”

You reach up to remove his glasses, bending to set them on the side of the bed— you didn’t want to break them, now with how you were about to ravish him. “Kiss me, Nathan.”

Usually, he needs to be told things once, twice, and again but this request Nathan obeys immediately. His hands start to travel up your body, fingers sliding under the fabric of your dress to expose inch after inch of your precious skin. His eyes are closed as he bares you to him, pulling down the cups of your bra so your breasts spill out, but he can feel how beautiful you are under his fingertips. Smooth and soft, fitting perfectly in his grasp. Every touch, every kiss is electric. His hands skate up your stomach, cupping your breasts before he takes your nipples between his fingers, rolling them gently.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good. So good,” He mumbles into your mouth, his fingers still working, eager to hear the soft little sound you made.

You melt into him, nodding frantically as you continue to sip from his mouth. “You too.”

Nathan breaks away from your mouth, biting and kissing his way down your neck, sucking a faint mark into your skin. More. He wants more of you, and you more of him. He kisses a trail between your breasts before leaning in, suckling one of your nipples into his mouth. You taste so fucking good. Like honey and cocoa, so delicious. Not for the first time, Nathan thinks about how much he wants to consume you. Or be consumed. He can’t choose, his head is spinning and he’s getting more frantic, shaking beneath you as he sucks and nips at you.

You can feel yourself getting lost in him, but this isn’t what you’ve thought about all these months. He feels incredible, his mouth is warm, his hands sure. The pleasure that’s blooming all over your body is one you'll never give up. But, no, for all these months, you’ve thought about turning him into a whining, shivering mess. You’ve thought about making him cum over and over until he can think of nothing but you.

You lean away, cupping your face in your hands, “Wait— please, let me touch you. I get off all the time, but I haven’t touched a man in so long. I wanna see you.”

“Honey—“

Your hands fall, gripping his shirt and ripping at it. Buttons scatter as you work him out of the shirt, leaning in to coax his mouth open for you once more. “Let me make you cum. Please, I need it.”

“That’s what you want?” He asks skeptically.

“Yeah, and you’d give me anything, wouldn't you? You ask, tilting your head at him expectantly.

“I’d give you anything,” He confirms.

You slid out of his lap, reaching behind to unclasp your bra and discard it. It leaves you in nothing but black lace panties. “Then take your pants off.”

All Nathan can do for several moments is stare at you, his mouth agape, ready to drool. He could believe he’s died and gone to heaven, except he doesn’t believe such a place exists. And if he did, he would not end up in a place where he would be so privileged to be met with the sight of you. You're an angel in the most sinful way.

“Nathan,” You coo when he doesn’t move, a soft grin on your face.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, a soft blush rising in his cheeks.

It’s adorable, it makes the heat in your lower belly burn brighter. You can feel yourself getting wetter for him by the second. “I thought about you like this so much.”

“Could've fooled me,” He heaves, trying to seem less affected than he is. That boat sailed the moment you asked him to take you to bed.

You laugh softly at his words, dropping to your knees and resting your hands on his broad thighs. “Don’t be snarky, baby, just let me make us feel good. You want that don’t you?”

Nathan shivers, even as your warm, honeyed voice glides across his skin. God he knew you’d be like this, knew he’d bend to your will so easily but to hear it and feel it. “I do,” He sighs, allowing you to guide him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Your eyes are dark with hunger, and you lick your lips a little as you look up at him. “God, your cock’s so fucking pretty. Can I put my mouth on you?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” He whispers earnestly.

You aren’t gentle or patient or thoughtful about letting him adjust. You take Nathan’s cock completely, so deep that he feels like he’s starting to enter your stomach. It takes everything in him to keep his hips down, a will that crumbles when you swallow, your throat tightening around him. The sound you make is a cross between a gag and a satisfied hum. You pull off without missing a beat, spitting on the tip of his cock and lifting a hand to grip and pump him.

“Mmm, shit, that’s really…that’s really fucking—“ Nathan babbles incoherently, words cutting off.

You start in on him again, your head bobbing up and down as you take him over and over again. The noises he’s making have you squeezing your thighs together. Soft and breathy and so so sweet. You peer up at him wanting to see how he looks. The flush in his cheeks is deeper and redder, his eyes somehow sharp and hazy all at once. Seeing him so vulnerable, gooey and nearing the peak of pleasure you don’t stop, sucking harder, allowing the tip of his cock to go deeper.

One of his hands falls to your shoulders, gripping it gently, “Wait— wait— fuck, hold on baby, just,”

Carefully, you pull off of him, wiping at the trail of spit that connects your mouth to his cock. You look up at him with those sweet little eyes, like you haven’t nearly sucked what little of a soul lies within him. “Hmm?”

“Wanna cum inside you, please.”

“This is you cumming inside me,” You challenge, kissing at the head of his cock.

“Inside your pussy,” He gasps, the vein that trails down the center of his forehead on display as he fights to stay still—as he holds back.

You rest your head on his thigh, looking up at him like he’s hung the moon. The sight alone almost makes him cum.

“Say, please,” You whisper.

“Please, sweetheart.”

“You’re so good, do you know that?” You ask him softly, reaching up to cup his face.

“Good?” He asks with a furrowed brow. The word directed at himself feels clumsy in his mouth.

“Good,” You repeat as confirmation. “So good that you’re gonna lay back against those pillows without another word aren’t you?”

Processing your words, he simply nods, helping you to your feet before he scoots back, propped up against the pillows, looking so devilishly handsome. If you stared at him long enough, you’re sure you could cum from just this sight. But why torture yourself like that, when you’re this close to having him buried inside you? Body humming with anticipation you crawl up the bed, straddling him once more.

“Do you want to feel how wet I am?”

“Yes,” He answers quickly before tacking on, “please.”

That sentence alone shows just how much Nathan Bateman is a changed man. Please without being promoted? Atop apologies and vulnerability and love confessions.

You hold your panties to the side for him, “Go on then. Touch me, baby.”

Nathan’s eyes track to where your pussy runs along his cock, burning hot. He reaches for you, letting his fingers sweat through your folds, causing both of you to moan. You’re so fucking wet, dripping, glistening in the warm lamplight.

“For me?” He asks, voice and hands trembling as he finds your clit, pressing his thumb against it.

“For you. Because you’re so fucking good for me. Good to me.”

Every fucking word out of your mouth pulls his closer to his release. He needs to be inside you, he can feel the clock ticking. “Can I fuck you now, honey? Please, I need to feel you.”

“Who knew Nathan Bateman would beg?”

“On my knees for the rest of my fucking life, baby.”

You can picture it, except in your dreams, Nathan’s beard is shining with your slick. Your breath catches, and you grow too needy to continue teasing him. It takes you just a few seconds to line him up with your entrance, giving neither of you time to adjust as you sink down on him completely. His back arches, huffing a heavy, labored breath. He’s sweating, he can feel it, his skin slick underneath your fingertips as your pussy grips him so deliciously tight. You’re dripping down his cock already.

“Fuck, honey—,” He laughs, squeezing at your hip, nearly pushing you off to hold on. “Fuck me, you couldn’t have— warned a guy?”

“Sorry,” You breathe, grinning down at him, “needed to fuck you.”

Nathan’s eyes roll as you rock your hips, completely breathless, “Shit—your pussy’s so fucking tight. So hot, you been saving this all for me?”

You bend, your nose resting against his as you gaze into him, “Savor it— don’t think. Don’t control. Just enjoy it, Nathan. Be with me. Give in to me. Say yes.”

“Yes,” He slurs, drawn out and drunk on you.

You guide his hands to either side of his head, holding them down by his wrists as you start to move, your pussy taking his cock the way your throat had with even more ease. The two of you fit together so perfectly, your cunt swallowing his entire length over and over, pleasure mounting higher and higher inside you. Nathan’s winning the fight against his body now. He’s happy to submit to you, it feels so good, so perfectly sweet, like he was made to be underneath you like this. But his body screams for release, to roll you over and fuck you hard until you squeeze his cock so tight there’s no choice in his cumming.

“Wanna cum…wanna cum in your pussy,” He whines, his hips lazily rocking up to meet yours.

“You will baby, I’ll let you fill me up,” You assure him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, teasing yourself and him for a moment as you close your eyes and let yourself really feel every single inch of him.

Nathan’s lips are parted slightly, pink and flushed, soft gasps leaving him as your hips grind down against his. You remove one of your hands from his wrists, leaning back so you have room to run your thumb over the swell of his bottom lip.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” He says, his words syrupy, “feels good. So good.”

“Let me in there,” You murmur, tapping two of your fingers against his lips, and he opens wide immediately. You purposefully clench your cunt around him, a small reward for his obedience and he groans, his back arching as pleasure burns in his veins.

“I’m gonna soak your cock,” You tell him matter of factly.

Nathan’s eyes go wide, his chest rising fast as his lungs beg for air. No matter what he does its not enough. He’s drowning in you, there’s nothing he can do about it. There’s nothing he really wants to do about it. “Soak my—“

“Nice and wet, all over you. Gonna make us messier,” You whisper, like the sound of his cock gliding in and out of you isn’t already obscene. “You want that don’t you, Nathan?”

He doesn’t have words, just soft, needy sounds. Pleading round eyes. Shallow, noisy breaths. It’s all the answer you need.

“I know, baby. I know. Cum whenever you need to, I’ll make it,” The gentle tone of your voice doesn’t match the devious look in your eyes.

You know exactly what you’re doing. You know his cock aches with the need to release, know he’s fighting this because he never wants this to end. Know that he’s never been this deep in subspace in his life, that he’ll obey any command you give him.

You shift up on your knees, until you’re taking nothing but the tip, and then rock back, taking him as deep as you can. Bending to your will, Nathan cums with a sound that can only be described as sweet agony.

As he fills you up, your hips slip into a grind, pressing and pressing the tip of his cock against the sensitive spot inside you. You can feel it coming now, you know just how to twist your hips, just how long to rub at your clit to make it happen. Your thighs grow tight, your cunt clenching as it starts to milk him for everything he’s got. You gush around him, the sound so wet and filthy that Nathan thinks he might cum again. Your slick is everywhere; your thighs, your stomach and all over Nathan, his lower belly glistening with you. He looks down and groans again, need rising sharply in his chest. He wants to taste you.

“Let me taste you, please. Drown me,” He begs, one of his hands shakily reaching for where the two of you connect.

Your hands fall to the pillows on either side of his head, propping you up from where you’d since collapsed onto him. “Nathan, baby, you’re tired—“

But, Nathan is desperate— as desperate as you were when you asked him to take you to bed, you can hear it in his voice as he pleads, “Sit on my face. Please, please, please, baby. Fucking, please. Let me eat your pussy.”

Your lost to him and his begging. With the little strength you have left, you shuffle up, getting you thighs on either side of his head, gently lowering yourself down through the burn of your muscles. Nathan has another idea, weakly reaching for you and effectively smothering himself in your pussy. Its messy, the sounds of his mouth as he licks and sucks at your clit like a starved man. Like you two hadn’t just stuffed yourselves full at dinner.

“Nathan,” You mumble, trying to steady yourself by leaning against the headboard. His beard tickles against your thighs, but makes the work of his mouth even better, brushing each and every bit of your sensitive pussy.

Despite your plea, Nathan is insatiable, pulling you down by his grip on your ass. He’s gasping and whining into your cunt, like it's all too much and too little at the same time. He can hardly breathe with how firmly he’s got you pressed against his face, though he wouldn’t change his position for the world. He would happily die here if it was what you wanted.

He can feel your thighs shaking against the sides of his head and knows that you’re close to cumming. Doubling his efforts, Nathan switches from running his tongue through your folds to focusing solely on your clit, circling and circling in a maddening technique. When you fall apart on his tongue, he presses his tongue inside of you, eager to drink up every single drop of your sweet honey.

He feels like he’s cumming again, his cock jerking behind you though there’s nothing for him to release. He feels like he’s been split right open, all of his tender, vulnerable spots on display.

It takes several minutes for Nathan to come back to himself once you shift off of his face, laying your body against his. He’s gasping for air with tightly shut eyes, his entire body shaking. You run a hand up and down his chest, cooing soft praises as you try to soothe him.

He stares at the ceiling, steadying his breaths. “Jesus fucking Christ, baby. You’re the filthiest person I’ve ever met.”

You tilt your chin to look up at him, admiring the shine of his beard that’s completely covered in you. A mark that he’s yours. “Thank you.”

The grin on your face— you’re trying to fucking kill him. How many times has he thought since he’s started this endeavor of winning your heart and why is it not over now that he has? Your grin is smug, full of fire, the fire he’s wanted from the moment he laid his eyes on you. He loves you so fucking much. If this is what he gets, he’ll be better for the rest of his life. He’ll move to the city, do the house in the crowded suburbs with the picket fence, get married. Have kids, and attend the most boring PTA meetings that plan bake sales. Bake sales where he’d have to make cookies— real cookies, not the ones with coconut sugar and almond flour, and low sugar chocolate. If it was what you wanted he’d do it all. Any of it at the drop of a hat.

“What are you thinking about?” You trace small shapes on his chest, enjoying the post-coital cuddle.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“That you’re everything,” He says easily. It’s nice— the reservations, the anxiety that he had about all of this has faded in the shadows.

With you, Nathan gets to be completely honest, knowing that he’s safe. None of what his parents said was true. He’s not unlovable. He’s not selfish. He isn’t just a fuck up that can never amount to anyone’s expectations. Despite his mistakes, he’s allowed to be loved.

“Remember when I was just your employee?” You ask teasingly, snuggling further into him.

“Fuck, I was an idiot for months. Best thing I’ve ever had, dangling in front of me in plain sight.”

“Not Bluebook?”

“No.”

“Or buying that property?”

“No.”

“The money?”

“No.”

“Your freedom?”

He snorts, “My freedom?”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted to you,” You remind him.

“And I fucking meant it.”

“It doesn’t sound very…freeing. Very Nathan,” You muse softly.

Nathan’s quiet for a long time— so long that you grow nervous, afraid that you’ve said the wrong thing. Just as you’re about to sit up to apologize, he wraps his arms around you, dropping a kiss on your forehead, “This, sweetheart, is the freest I’ve ever been in my life.”

Fin

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho

#genuinely couldn’t hold this in any longer #BUT ALSO ONE OF THE EXTRAS IS FINISHED SO #i listened well #nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman fanfiction #nathan bateman #ex machina fanfiction #in plain sight #not sfw #arson writes

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bullet-prooflove · 5 months ago

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My life was fine before you turned up

For Kayce Dutton

Tagging: @kmc1989 @midnightheat @queenslandlover-93 @littledreamer9211 @spooky-librarian-ghost @atomic-art-dragon @sleepystoner326 @themarvelousmaks

Companion Piece to:

Bonfire Heart

Jean Jacket

In the months after you leave, Kayce can not stop thinking about you. You infiltrate his thoughts, consume his dreams. Every morning he wakes up with a raging hard he takes care of in the shower because he can’t get the taste of you out of his head.

It’s not just the sex he thinks about, it’s the companionship too.

The nights he spent tangled up in you, his face buried in the curve of your shoulder, your laugh when he fell off the couch because things got too vigorous. The mornings the two of you used to sit on the porch sharing a cup of coffee and watching the sunrise over the pastures in a contemplative silence.

The next time you come around the leaves are beginning to change from green to gold and the temperatures starting to drop. Rodeo season is over and Travis is making the journey back to Texas, via the ranches he does business with.

Kayce misses your arrival because he’s up in the pastures, wrangling cattle. It’s only when he returns at sunset with the rest of his cowboys that he sees the trailer and his heart rate starts to quicken.

It’s dark by the time he makes it back to the farmhouse, the lights are on emitting a welcoming glow in the midst of the wilderness and it does something to Kayce, knowing that you’re in there waiting for him. He kicks off his boots on the porch before stepping over the threshold, following the trail of clothes that leads to his bedroom.

When he opens the door, there are you as naked as the day you were born, lying on your stomach, ass barely covered with his bedsheet as you read one of Lee’s paperbacks from the bookshelf in the lounge. He leans in the doorway, giving himself a second to drink in the sight of you, your skin bathed in the warm illumination from the lamp on the nightstand, your hair falling across your features. You look like you belong there, in his house, in his bed.

“Miss me?” You ask as you tilt your head towards him and those eyes, those god damn eyes, they bewitch him every time.

“Yea.” He says, his voice a little rough as he begins to take off his clothes. “Yea I did.”

Love Kayce? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#kayce dutton #kayce dutton x reader #yellowstone #luke grimes

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 4 months ago

Text

The Rift - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: dream/nightmare sequences, mentions of spouse death and hypothetical child death (in the dream sequence), angst, references to smut, m/m/m/f dynamics

Summary: Each Marcus deals with conflicting emotions after spending the night together.

A/N: WHOOPS, who let all the angst in here???? Sorry about that!

Masterlist | Chapter 6 | Next chapter>>

(Moreno)

Marcus Moreno is about to die. Alien tentacles ooze toward him out of a strange crack in the world itself, moving with terrifying speed. He can choose to draw his swords and ready himself, or to shove the people beside him away and out of danger, but not both. He’s somehow both controlling his body and observing the scene from the outside as he turns to see a pretty young woman with fierce eyes, a man dressed in Roman armor, and the FBI Agent he admires so much that it hurts. They all look at him with fear in their eyes as he lets out a strangled yell and throws them out of harm’s way with all of his strength. They land on the pavement several feet away, but it’s not far enough. The tentacles engulf them, and Marcus cries out in anguish as he draws his swords, slashing and hacking frantically, spilling thick, black blood everywhere as he tries to reach his loved ones.

He throws off the last of the writhing black mess, but somehow, the three people he had thought had been there before have changed. Now, only two bodies lie broken and bloodied on the pavement–one much smaller than the other. When he sees the eyes of his late wife staring unseeingly up at the sky, he drops to his knees with a guttural scream of grief and pain. He can’t bring himself to look at the second body, knowing exactly what he’ll see when he does.

No, he whispers as tears fall down his cheeks. No, no, no, no–

He shoots up in bed, gasping for air. He’s soaked in sweat and shaking uncontrollably, heart still pounding in his chest from the remnants of the dream. It’s only when something shifts behind him, a broad, bare chest turning and facing the other direction does he remember he’s not alone.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes his movements hadn’t woken anyone else. Carefully, he scoots down the bed, avoiding several pairs of legs, and retrieves his phone from the pocket of his discarded pants before retreating to the living room.

Hey, he taps out a message. How’s college life?

He stands in the middle of the room, staring down at the bright screen and feeling rather awkward in his nudity, not really expecting a response at this time of night but wishing with every atom in his body for one anyway.

He’s about to give up and try to force himself back to sleep when three little dots appear at the bottom of the screen.

M: Who’s asking, leader of the Heroics or my papá?

Marcus snorts softly.

Do I receive a different response depending on my answer?

M: 1. I am studying at the library, or 2. It’s dollar beer night at Lotus.

He smiles.

I choose option 1, obviously.

M: The real question is what are YOU doing up so late?

Couldn’t sleep. Just felt the need to check in on you. Everything okay?

M: Everything’s fine. Are YOU okay? You haven’t sent me Worried Dad texts in the middle of the night in a while.

Marcus begins tapping out a response, deletes it, starts again, and deletes that too. He sighs, glancing warily back at the bedroom. I’m afraid to let anyone else into my life, he wants to tell her. You’re my only success story, and I worry every day that I’m going to lose you, too.

It’s too much to lay on his twenty-one year-old daughter, so he turns it into a joke instead.

I’m short on my Dad quota and wanted to make sure the Dad Boss doesn’t fire me.

M: You’re weird.

Ever heard the saying ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?’

The message is left unread for several minutes, and he imagines that her friends are all goading her to get off her phone and rejoin the fun. Good. He does all the worrying for both of them, so that she can remain carefree. He smiles softly and taps out one last text.

Have a good night, bug. Call me sometime. xo

He locks his phone and holds it at his side, but remains standing in the same place, mulling over his thoughts.

He hadn’t been exaggerating earlier when he said it had been a long time since he’d had… well, anyone really. The last time he’d had sex was during a disastrous no-strings-attached hookup after one of his coworkers convinced him to download some app and set up a profile. That was… shit, it had to be almost two years ago now. He hadn’t realized it had been quite that long.

The last time he had a relationship was more of a trick question. He dated a few people on and off, once Missy had been able to mostly fend for herself at home, but they never lasted long or ever became serious. None of them had even met his daughter. The real answer to ‘when was your last relationship’ was ‘not since his wife died.’

It wasn’t just that no one could compare to her. It was that he couldn’t allow them the opportunity to even try. The closer people are to him, the more danger he puts them in.

But ever since a certain FBI Agent waltzed into his office and asked so earnestly for his help, he found himself wanting to let someone in for the first time in a very long while.

And now, to his great surprise and bewilderment, he has not just one more person he cares about, but three. Can he let himself get closer again? Can he afford to?

He looks at the book left open on the coffee table. At first he thinks there must be something wrong with his eyes, because the words all look like gibberish, but then he realizes the book is in Latin. Oh. Somehow he had forgotten that Marcus Acacius did not actually belong here. He can’t tell if the thought troubles him or relieves him–knowing that one less person will be in danger because of him.

The Heroic debates sleeping on the couch for a few moments, but the remnants of the dream still trickle unpleasantly through his bloodstream, and he doesn’t want to be alone. Carefully, he pads back into the bedroom and crawls back into the still-empty space that he had vacated.

He lies awake for a long time, listening to the sound of breathing.

(Pike)

Marcus stirs, cracking open his eyes to see the first rays of daylight reflecting on the wall opposite your bedroom window. He rolls onto his back, being careful not to wake you as he turns over. Moreno is snoring softly beside him, looking peaceful. This is the only time he hasn’t seen worry lines etched on the man’s forehead, and he wonders about the burden of one man trying to protect the entire world.

The Roman is already awake, piercing brown eyes meeting his with a mischievous twinkle. Marcus nods to him in greeting and gives him a small, crooked smile. The other man reaches over the Hero to run the tip of his index finger down the length of Marcus’s arm, and he shivers softly.

“Early riser,” he comments in a whisper.

“I have always risen with the sun.”

“Makes both of us,” Marcus grins.

“And decidedly not our hostess.”

They both laugh quietly, not wanting to wake the other occupants of the bed.

“Coffee?” he asks the Roman.

“I would love some.”

Marcus helps himself to your kitchen, knowing exactly where you keep your coffee grounds and filters. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt so at home in someone else’s space; he’s spent more time here over the past several weeks than he’s spent at his own apartment, and from the beginning he had secretly preened over the excuse to get to know you better.

At first, your temporary houseguest had been a slightly befuddling distraction–his distinctive presence ensured that he looked completely out of place in every environment, and his constant refrain of “Quid est, quid est, quid est” was equal parts endearing and frustrating. Marcus didn’t often feel like a small man, but he couldn’t deny that the way the General’s broad shoulders seemed to fill every room had him feeling some kind of way about it.

It’s a fascination, he had told himself so many times. A temporary infatuation that’s distracting you from the woman of your dreams.

When the translators were introduced, and the Roman’s sharp wit and mischievous sense of humor could be understood for the first time, the pull became even stronger. It didn’t help that the man seemed to be a shameless flirt with everyone–himself, you, and when Moreno began spending the odd evening here, him too.

Even so, the events of the previous night had been so far beyond his imagination that he can hardly make sense of it. Marcus has always been a serial monogamist, hopping from one way-too-serious relationship to another and hoping against all odds that the next one wouldn’t end in disaster. He’s never been able to do anything that could remotely be considered casual.

He had no concept of what last night had meant.

He pours the coffee into two mugs–dumping a fair amount of cream and sugar in one, and far less in his own–and hands one to Acacius.

“You are pensive this morning,” he remarks, his voice still carrying a light rasp from sleep.

“Just thinking.”

“You and the Hero both strike me as men who are inclined to think themselves into an early grave.”

Marcus snorts. “That might be true.” Might be. Everyone he’s ever known has called him an over-thinker. “You're a great tactician when it comes to war,” he challenges the man. “Surely you appreciate the benefits of analysis.”

“There is analyzing a situation, and then there is helpfully standing in place wondering what action you are going to take while the enemy completely surrounds you.”

Marcus pauses, coffee cup halfway to his lips, and really looks at the man beside him, leaning casually against the kitchen counter. He tries to imagine him in the armor he had been wearing that first night, bruised and bloodied, leading the armies of Rome with a fierce battle cry. “I don't often find myself surrounded by an army.”

“The enemy can be many things. There is a word for this, no?”

“A metaphor?”

“Mmm,” he grunts in assent. “When is an army not really an army?”

Marcus smiles to himself, setting the mug down on the counter and staring into the middle distance. “So, what do you think my enemy is?”

The General looks him up and down. “The things that you carry with you.”

His eyes snap to Acacius in shock and surprise. The man is discerning–alarmingly so, at times. Marcus’s breath catches in his throat when he responds thickly, “What is it that you think I’m carrying?”

“This is not for me to know,” the man remarks casually, raising one eyebrow. “Unless you are wanting to tell me something?”

“What are you two chattering about?” your soft voice cuts through their conversation. Marcus turns to see you padding toward them wearing only a shirt and looking satisfyingly mussed.

“A soldier that carries the weight of his past failure into the next battle will surely lose,” the General says cryptically.

You stare at the two of them blankly. “Yeah, I’m gonna need some coffee if you’re going to be talking like that.” You look at Marcus shyly. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

Marcus doesn’t know what to do. Does he kiss you? Is that rude? He wants to reach for you, to take you into his arms, but the two other men have him at a loss–how does one act after group sex? He has no blueprint for this situation.

“How lucky we are to have such a beautiful woman in front of us, still looking so well-fucked from our attentions last night.” The other man croons, moving closer to Marcus and nosing the shell of his ear.

Feeling emboldened by the other man’s candor, he extends his arm to you, and you immediately fill the space perfectly, your head resting against his bare chest. Marcus presses a soft kiss to your forehead. With the General at his back, he feels completely surrounded by warmth–and wonders, despite himself, if he might be lucky enough to hold onto this feeling. The only thing better would be…

“Our other Marcus still asleep?” he jokes.

“The Hero was awake for some time in the night,” Acacius comments.

Ah. That explains it. “We’ll let him sleep, then.”

“Or,” you say with a sultry smile, “or we could all three of us go back and… wake him up.”

(Acacius)

Marcus Acacius likes this more than anything else. More than any of the hedonistic acts that had come before, more than the thrill of building sexual tension between partners, is this:

The utter decadence of sweaty, sated bodies, limbs tangled together… delicious.

The hero lies boneless, half-sprawled over him. A man who has been pushed into a position of strength all his life, he finally appears free of all those expectations here. The General has always been able to read people, but it hardly took any effort at all to see that Marcus Moreno desperately craved the ability to let go. His breath shudders slightly on the exhale, and the other man curled around him makes a soft noise of inquiry.

“Feel okay?”

“Mmhmm,” the hero mumbles, not opening his eyes, and Acacius smiles.

The Agent, on the other hand, is much like himself, in that he seems to be just as comfortable in a position of power as he is in submission. Marcus hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off the man as he guided the hero through his first time receiving–gentle, but firm, one hand wrapped around the man’s cock and the other grasping his shoulder for leverage, his fingers always reaching possessively for his neck. Marcus Pike does not simply take a lover, the General concluded, he desires to own them.

It was that obvious possessiveness that had kept Marcus from insisting the Agent share with the others the night previous, allowing him to be the sole proprietor of your pleasure–but the way the man had shuddered at the sight of his beloved with his own thick cock down your throat gave him less qualms about the matter today.

And if that resulted in Marcus delighting in the hot, wet clutch of your cunt for himself, that was simply a fringe benefit, was it not? Oh, you were a sweet one, and it was easy to see why Pike was completely enraptured. You whimpered so beautifully when he broke you open for the first time, squirming around his cock with a little wrinkle of discomfort on your forehead. When the Agent reached down to palm your cheek and soothe you through it, you greedily sucked his thumb into your mouth and bit down gently, eliciting a soft groan from the man.

Marcus eventually flipped you on your stomach to take you fast and hard, mirroring the intensity of the two men beside you. You were delirious, drunk on your own pleasure, but still had the presence of mind to reach out and stroke the cheek of the Hero, who was moaning into the pillow next to you. You smiled softly, seeing the other man’s overwhelmed expression, and moved yourself closer to him. The two of you were still tangled together when you reached the point of ecstasy.

You’re curled into Marcus’s chest now, your soft breaths disturbing the smattering of hair and your warm body leaving his own glistening with sweat. You beside him, the Hero sprawled bonelessly on top of him, and the Agent with his arm draped over top, his fingers brushing against the top of his pubic bone–and Marcus Acacius feels utterly at peace.

#marcus pike #marcus moreno #marcus acacius #the mentalist #we can be heroes #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal

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kafkaoftherubble · 7 months ago

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Throat

Neck

Manga: 「光が死んだ夏」 The Summer Hikaru Died

So, uh, this is what I've been working on while Atom, the laptop, was under repair. It's my latest favorite thing. I mean, favorite enough to make me draw something. And I almost never draw; even if I do, it's always just triangles (which made it in, anyway. Hikaru's body, you see?).

I'm not good at art (understatement), but I genuinely adore this story and the characters—that somehow translates into me doing strange things like this!

Of course, it's because someone-I-shall-not-name strong-armed I mean encouraged me to draw this thing, and then another-someone-I-shall-not-name told me to keep at it. I also strangely found myself quite zealous about finishing the piece too. Took me a week, and at least 5 out of 7 days were used on that eldritch meat tendrils. Yea, I know. I am slow. In more ways than one, ahahhaha!

Oh. As usual: I snuck in some details in there. It's kinda a Lyndisian trait to do this. The detail is only visible in Neck, due to the black background. The alt description gives the answer away, though.

Ah, this shit is getting animated! I can't wait to watch it with the first someone-I-shall-not-name!!! But I hate it when a year goes by too quickly...

The manga is really good. I really love it, even if I failed to see the love part of Boys' Love. All I can see was "the kind of friendship I lowkey desire." Ah, but I also just like the philosophical themes in it. And the horror. The ghosts here are very cute.

Thank you for looking at what I cooked.

#I cooked.#hikaru ga shinda natsu #the summer hikaru died #hikaru indou #yoshiki tsujinaka

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passionpeachy · 6 months ago

Note

Hi hi hello! I've been following you for quite some time, but I am rather nervous, so I thought I would hop on anon for this!

Genuinely, you're so beautiful that whatever being or protectors that exist up there would be envious of you. The stars are an integral part of you and yet you shine far brighter than any star could dare to. Your stardust has come from the most beautiful places in all the edges of the universe, and contributed little parts of their existence— their atoms, energy, and stories— within you.

Your life is a storybook, and you are the poetry I would read to soothe my loved one to sleep.

(I mean all of this platonically, as I'm already taken, but I very much wanted to compliment you— you are such a sweet, funny and kind individual! You deserve the same kindness and joy that you give to everyone else. <3)

PLEASE THAT'S SO SWEET AND BEAUTIFUL 🤍🤍🤍 I get so giddy when I get such poetic compliments like these in my inbox

(Also don't worry, I'm taken too so I'm assuming you're all being platonic <3)

#asks

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rhapsodynew · 1 month ago

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#history of rock music

On November 13, 1970, Syd Barrett's second studio album "Barrett" was released.

Note that the work was generally in a hurry: the Floyd team continued to work on Atom Heart Mother, touring interfered with the studio schedule every now and then — there was simply no time to hone the songs, and Barrett himself, as we remember, was against long rehearsals. Sometimes haste led to serious mistakes — for example, one day Dave took home master tapes with two songs to listen and decide whether these options would be included in the album; the next day the band went to a concert, and Gilmore simply forgot to return the tape to the studio. As for Sid, sometimes they played absolutely magical things, and sometimes they were unable to give out anything meaningful at all (for example, the song Gigolo Auntie Gigolo was recorded only from the 15th time). He phrased his comments as if he were describing paintings rather than music: "Maybe we could make the middle darker and the end a little noonday. It's too windy and frosty right now."

I must say, the record begins intriguingly — with a long solo by Sid before the song Baby Lemonade ("A little bottle of lemonade" is an outdated expression). Subsequently, it turned out that Sid was just warming up — the solo had nothing to do with the song, David had already added it there, considering it quite suitable. The lyrics are full of extravagant phrases like "I sent you an iron cage by mail" or about "A watch washed in a washing machine" — but overall the song sounds pretty strong. The solo is simply brilliant — what kind of shape Sid could be in and how at ease he could play!

It is followed by a downright beautiful and almost Beatle Love Song, decorated with stylish Rick Wright keys - a love song in which there are no fabulous, witty or scabrous lines (except that "I'll lower my head and see what I see"). The musicians also succeeded in Dominoes, a meditative story about how Sid spends time with a certain girl, to whom the song is dedicated, playing dominoes. The song has a distinctly bluesy undertone — there is something of Doors in it - and besides, it is decorated with a reverse solo by Sid. However, everything is not so simple: it turned out that at some point Gilmore was so exhausted that he naturally felt like his roof was going away, and automatically started recording an almost finished song backwards. The next thing he remembered of that evening was Sid playing a delightful solo and never getting it right, and pressing the record button. That's how it was included on the album — because Barrett didn't squeeze out another note about it. Against this background, the fragment forgotten in the finished mix, where Sid clears his throat, is already taken for granted.

Alas, the feeling does not last long on the album, as if this time Sid's associates had found an approach to him and solid ground under their feet. It Is Obvious ("It's obvious") is an extremely loose song in which Sid plays exactly two chords and recites lines in an incredibly low voice, which still have a hint of something magical, but in general the text is saturated with longing and despair. Rats ("Rats") It grew out of jam, to which Sid came up with a somewhat manic text on the go. To be honest, maybe it would have been better if she had remained a jam. As well as the closing side of Maisie, there is another, now blues jam, over which Sid speaks, sniffles, giggles and makes other inarticulate sounds. All that can be said about this track is look at Sid playing the blues (which is not surprising, knowing the origin of the band's name), while Pink Floyd quite rarely turned to this genre.

Suddenly, on the second side (how many people got there), a quite tolerable Gigolo Aunt is discovered. The lyrics here, of course, are nothing more than sweet carefree nonsense, but at least it feels like a song. I would like to comb my hair a little and... but at least stop. Unless it's unknown why it's been going on for so long — is it really just to preserve the priceless fragments of Sid's game on film as much as possible?

Waving my arms in the air — well, while Sid is waving his arms in the air in another song, mine are sinking, because it's impossible to describe. This is a good preparation for a cute song about this and that, in which there is a minimum of certainty ("no one will strain too much, there will be many things that we can do") and the obligatory naive question at the end ("Why am I here? What is destined to happen?"), but no more.

I don't know if it's worth saying anything about the remaining recordings. I Never Lied to You ("I Never Lied to you") is another song about longing and separation, in which the musicians frantically try to play along with the author of the album, as if on the move. Wined and Dined ("Dined with Wine") is based on a cute riff that Sid handles quite confidently throughout the recording. Gilmore is known to play solo here. In general, we must admit that it is quite neatly recorded — the instruments complement each other well, and the omissions in their parts form a complete sound picture. The song Wolfpack ("Wolf Pack") Sid named among his favorites — perhaps the lyrics are really good, but the sound ... hug and cry. He is perfectly described by a comment from a certain fan of the song:

— Sid: Trying to sing normally — The pack in formation

— Little gremlin in a side head: thE PACK IN FORMATIIIOOOON!

Oh, Sid, which one of them is the real you?

And this piece ends with a song called Effervescing elephant ("Effervescent Elephant"). Here we must honestly admit that we have a brilliant text in front of us. This is an absolutely delightful fairy tale, quite in the spirit of Sid's enthusiastic English absurdity — but it also sounds like a demo at best; and it's great that Vic Savell played the tuba here. It was very convenient.

It's a painful feeling, isn't it?

Maybe it was worth choosing more or less finished things and putting together one of the two albums. Who knows? What is destined to happen?

So that's what happened when the talented English kid Syd Barrett returned to the studio to record some songs a few trips later. This time, Sid's own drawing is used on the cover — he painted these charming creatures a few years earlier during his studies. If you look closely, it turns out that all these winged creatures are beetles. On the reverse side, a picture of Mick Rock with the same Pontiac Parisienne is used. Interestingly, Mick Rock is not listed in the credits of the album, and in general Hipgnosis's involvement in this art is not noted anywhere, but pay attention to the inscription of the author's name and the album title on the backdrop! Practically Bond)

The album was released on November 14 and was met with restraint, if not coldly. He did not manage to become a little more afternoon, as poor Sid wanted. The album did not hit any charts and achieved nothing — the more surprising that even after such a result, Sid had to comment on rumors about the third album and new singles for some time (however, oddly enough, Barrett became more successful from a commercial point of view than Madcap). Answering reporters' questions, Barrett reasoned unexpectedly sensibly: he dismissed all rumors about the third album, saying that the songs for recording must meet a certain standard — and if there are a couple of decent ones on "Madman", then on the second album there are only echoes. Perhaps there is nothing more to add — after 1970, Syd Barrett did not record anything.

As for the rest of the Floyd's, Roger Waters, for example, continued his collaboration with Ron Gisin and recorded the soundtrack to the film "The Body" with him. In particular, there is a composition called… Breathe!

Let's just note that all four Floyd members took part in the recording of the final song — Give Birth To A Smile ("Give Life To a Smile"); this is the rarest case when one of the other band members went to participate in Roger's activities unrelated to the band (not to mention the whole band — by the way, the participation of David, Nick and Rick is not noted in any way in the design of the album). In general, we mention this work because we need to fix it: in 1970, the Floyd's, despite the release of the first album in the band's discography, which took first place in the charts, were engaged in very different things. Nick Mason, thanks to Ron Gisin, immersed himself in producing, Wright and Gilmore, too, but thanks to Sid. Gilmore, Wright and Waters wrote one track per year for their own band — the title suite does not contain many personal contributions from Floyd's band. So, while the others were producing, Waters wrote songs: there are four of them on Music from The Body — Sea Shell and Stone, Chain of Life, Breathe and Give Birth to a Smile. He also released a concept album in which the tracks merge into each other — and this album was even released on vinyl with a transparent anatomical mannequin on the cover.

Pink Floyd spent the rest of the year on endless, exhausting tours. Therefore, when they returned to the studio in January 1971 — it was time to make a new album — the four guys found that they had absolutely nothing to record.

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