#when he calls you on the phone just to ask a question about estate returns that he would already know - weirdo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crash-and-cure · 2 years

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Devil In Your Eyes (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: It’s a party and you’re invited to the mysterious and eclectic Mr. Preley’s estate, to properly meet your father’s employer.

A/N: This is based on this request here made by @itlover8000. And I know I promised to have the next part of If I Were You up, but I'll post later as to why it may take a little longer than originally planned. This one was a lot of fun to write, and I hope to god that I did the mafia aspect justice, while still keeping reader relatively in the dark. Let’s hope we don’t have a repeat of last time and it gets in the tags the first time. Also just to give a timeline as to the fic, in this story Elvis was pretty much drafted right before he met the colonel which halted his entire music career and he started his criminal one right after returning stateside. If you would like to be added to my taglist let me know!

Warnings: Yandere!Elvis but also introducing... Mafia Boss!Elvis, though he’s not called that in the story. There are themes of delusional, manipulative, and gaslighting behvaior depicted. Smut, including oral (f. recieving) and first time are depicted. Sexual tension galore. Implied violence toward reader’s father. Gratuitous but non-sexual use of the word Daddy, but more in the general southern sense of affectionately referring to one’s father. Reader is young but over 18 when she meets Elvis for the first time. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Word Count: 13.9k

My Masterlist

When you were young you asked your daddy what he did.

"I’m an accountant, little bug" he said with a kiss on your forehead.

When you were a little older, you asked him what does an accountant do?

"I handle money for other people Sweetheart,'" he would say as he looked at rows and rows of numbers that may as well have been hieroglyphics to you.

The boldest question you ever asked him was how much he made as an accountant. You asked because another girl had invited you over to her house and yours was nicer by far, which was weird because she had told you that her dad was an accountant as well.

He stiffened at that question, and it almost looked as though he were trembling. He took a swig of his drink and he would tell you "don't worry about where the money comes from Gem. Worry about where it's goin'."

Before you could argue further he reminded you of that upcoming school dance and how you deserve a real nice dress to go. That's how he would handle any follow up questions afterward.

You're daddy was an accountant, but you didn't live like an accountant's daughter. Your mama passed when you were real little and ever since then your daddy did his best to spoil you with the nicest jewelry, the finest clothes, and the fanciest schools in all of Memphis.You hardly even remember your mama, but that’s not something you say out loud anymore because of how sad he would get at that thought.

You’re given everything you could want, but these days it feels as though you’re rarely ever given what you actually want.

Gem he called you as a pet name, because even with all the money and wealth he had gotten over the years, he wanted you to know that you were his most precious. He had worked hard to raise you without a mama, and as an accountant he did his best to earn a living for you to thrive.

But not a lot of things about his job made sense. He never went to an office, some men would bring boxes and boxes of papers to your house, and would take others away. He rarely ever let you have friends over because he worried about them looking into said boxes. But the oddest thing about his job would be how the whole world seemed to stop the moment the phone rang.

The phone calls weren't that frequent all things considered, but he would drop any and everything to answer it. That was one of the few rules your house had, to always pick up the phone and to always hand it over if a Mr. Presley called. You’ve answered the phone a few times and heard from the mysterious Mr. Presley, but it was never more than a few words asking for daddy, who was always quick to drop whatever he was doing to answer the call. The conversation between the two of them would always be over before you even left the kitchen, and within minutes daddy would be out the door and be gone for a few hours.

When you were little you had a slight resentment toward Mr. Presley for how busy he kept your daddy, even going so far as to slip him a letter in one of those boxes when you were 8 or so, asking him to give your daddy less work so he can play with you more. That was one of the only times that your daddy had ever yelled at you, and it was apparently your polite tone and Mr. Presley’s good sense of humor that prevented your daddy from losing his job. Now his eccentric ways of doing business are the only thing keeping you from going stir-crazy and giving you some much needed breathing room from your daddy.

You were going to graduate this weekend, but you could hardly say you were looking forward to not being able to go to school anymore. Daddy seems to hover around you more and more these days, you guess, because he’s trying to keep you in the nest as long as possible at this point. These days it’s rare for you to even leave the house period, and forget about leaving the house without him.

Of course you tried to make the best of it, afterall you had spent years wishing he would be more present in your life, and not just in your house. But it’s hard not to feel embarrassed when your daddy is a constant looming presence at every dance and social event your senior year. He doesn’t even trust you anymore to be alone with your girlfriends, so forget about being with a boy.

It felt like you were hardly out of his sight anymore, and you were suffocating. Ironically enough the most freedom you had anymore was in school, where you didn’t have to worry about him listening in on your girl talk or chasing away every boy that even glanced your way. You had tried talking to him about it only to be met with some half-hearted apologies and promises to let up once you were out of high school. Though with how from how much he’s dissuaded you from making any plans over the summer due to a mysterious trip to he’s planning, you aren’t holding your breath.

Even the night before your graduation, you could hardly expect much. While your friends were out and about on the town, you were relegated to packing for said trip. The flight was on Sunday, and you were hoping to use your daddy’s promise of letting up to go properly celebrate with them after the ceremony.

You truly believed it was going to be a night like any other, until you hear a knock at the door only to find a decently sized gift box, with a large bow on top sitting at your front door. To Y/N written on the tag in beautiful calligraphy. With graduation being tomorrow it's not too surprising to receive a gift, but when you open it up you find a pair of masks (one a simple black domino mask, the other a beautifully embellished, soft blue venetian mask) and you’re confused by the gift until you find a thick piece of cardstock at the bottom of the box.

Huh, so Mr, Presley’s throwing a party, you think idly as you look at the invitation for you and your daddy. It’s odd and a bit rude that you received an invite the day of the party, but that doesn’t seem very out of character, when you consider the bizarre ways he does business. You know what Masquerade Balls were, you were gunning for it to be the theme when you were on the Prom committee, but ended up losing to Tina Fike’s Midnight in Paris theme.

Picking up the blue mask you can’t help but think as to how perfectly it matches your prom dress in color. You hadn’t been able to wear it due to the shop messing up the dates and not having it finished in time, so your only option was to wear one of their loaner dresses that didn’t quite fit right. They ended up finishing the dress by the next Saturday, and it’s sat in your closet, unworn, taunting you ever since.

It seems like the stars have finally aligned, and considering that this is from Mr. Presley, there is absolutely no way your daddy would refuse an invitation from him. He’s been called in for business in the middle of the night, you doubt this will even register as being unusual to him.

“Daddy! Daddy, look what just came!” you exclaim, bursting into his office. You don’t even question why the invitation was addressed specifically to you, and not him. Nor why you see the blood drain from his face as he reads the letter. You’re busy picturing what will undoubtedly be the ball of your dreams.

“Gem, uhhh….” he swallows hard at this one. “Your graduation tomor-”

“Oh I know,” you cut him off. “But since it’s at noon, I figure it won’t be too bad if we stay up a little later.” You say as you turn around to start rifling through his suits, to find something appropriately black tie for him to wear.

“Baby, I…” he swallows hard. “I got the dates wrong for the tickets. Our flights leave at 6 tomorrow morning,” he said with a sad pitying look on his face.

“...but my graduation is at noon tomorrow.”

��I know,” he says solemnly.

“...”

“Oh.”

“Sweetheart, I know you’re upset,” he says, reaching for you, but you jerk yourself away.

“I’m not,” you reply, your voice cracking as you try to hold back your tears as best as you can.

“I know, Baby girl,” he said, bringing you closer to his shoulder. “But you gotta trust me when I say that this is for the best. I’ll explain everything when we get there, but for now,” he says, giving you a sad kiss to your forehead, “Just go finish packing.”

“...ok daddy.”

You had been packed and ready for weeks by this point, so as you lay in bed, you try to justify it in your head, try to imagine where this mysterious place he was taking you could be that would warrant skipping your graduation ceremony and missing what could be the last time you would see many of your friends. But short of the moon, you can’t. Anywhere in the world you could be, but the one place you want to be tomorrow is with all of them.

So a grand party, your graduation, and possibly the last time you would be seeing many of your friends are all the things you wanted but would miss, in favor of something you didn’t even want in the first place.

You hold up the blue mask in front of your face and you imagine the kind of party it would be. Your mind conjures up the most lavish of gowns and the best music. The riveting conversations to be had and the interesting people to meet. The more you thought about it the more tantalizing it became. But you quickly scrub those useless ideas in your head.

It’s a party for daddy’s boss, you think to yourself. What could be more boring than that?

Not to mention, even if you did go, you recall how boring of a time you had at your prom as you could practically feel your daddy breathing down your neck the whole time.

But daddy was still here, you didn’t hear any of the usual sounds for when he was about to leave and you would be forced to stay with Old Mrs. Sack next door. So he’s staying home, is what you think. This would mark the first time you’ve ever seen your daddy reject an invitation from Mr. Presley.

Well he wasn’t technically invited, you were… your eyes snapped open at that thought. So really it would be on the invited person as to whether or not you would go, so technically you could go on your own. You aren’t his plus one, he’s yours.

It’s a party for his boss, you argue with yourself, so it’s not as though you would be able to go without him. At that moment, do you realize that it'll be the first time in almost a year since you’ve done anything without him practically trying to hold your hand. You think you know why your freedom has been severely stifled as of late and it all stems from a single act of rebellion almost a year ago to the day.

You remember last summer when your daddy had pulled you out of school early claiming it was going to be an early summer vacation. But what proceeded was perhaps the worst week of your life. During the days when he wasn’t driving for hours on end, he was glancing over his shoulder wherever you were stopped at. And those nights he would hardly sleep a wink in the rundown motels you would be stopped at, and you could hardly blame him because you were very much in the same boat. Worst of all was how little you knew about the whole situation, and you hated how even within the confined space of the car he was somehow still able to dodge the questions you had.

Where are we going?

Why now?

When will we be going home?

By the end of the week you were at the end of your rope and wanted to go home, you missed your bed, you missed your friends, and you were bored out of your mind within the motel. There was only so much TV you could handle before your brain would start dripping out of your ears, and you had already read the few books you had managed to grab before daddy forced you out of the house, a couple times each at this point.

Your daddy was never one to deny you anything you asked for, and so knowing the power of your requests, you never tried to push it. Even when he showered you with gifts, you were careful to accept it but not ask for much else. So it was jarring that of the few requests you have made on this trip, all of them were rejected, in spite of the fact that they were all relatively simple. A request to stop at some corny roadside attraction. No, it’s a waste of time. A new book from that store across from the service station. No, we’re trying to save money. A quick dip into the motel pool. No, you’ll get pink eye.

This one was especially infuriating due to the disgustingly hot summer night you found yourself in, one that makes your sweat sticky and your clothes cling to your body. To add further insult to injury the room your daddy rented was seemingly the only room without a working AC. He was somehow able to fall asleep with the TV still on and you took the opportunity to stare longingly at the pool of the El Rey motel in the middle of who knows Texas, doing your best to ignore the uncomfortable tacky feeling of your shirt.

You hadn’t been allowed to do anything this whole trip, and you’re sick of it. His latest excuse being your breaking point, treating you like some little kid that didn’t know any better. You had just turned eighteen and yet he still insists on treating you like a little girl. This is your last summer before your senior year of high school, and you’re spending it without your friends far from home.

But… did you really need his permission?

Fine, you thought as you gazed at the temptingly blue pool right outside your window. If he ain’t gonna listen to me, then I don’t gotta listen to him. People can call you spoiled all they want, but you thought you were at the very least entitled to water in the desert.

You grabbed a hold of one of the towels in the bathroom and tip-toed past your daddy’s bed as he sleeps like a corpse, and closed the door to your room as you left as quietly as you could. There weren’t that many cars in sight and not a soul to be seen, and with it being well past midnight you figured the coast was clear for your little act of rebellion as you padded your way barefoot across the parking lot pavement.

You didn’t pack a swimsuit with you, didn’t have the time to, but you figure your regular underwear covers about as much as it would. You still double and triple check that you’re alone and no lights are on and no windows are open in the surrounding rooms. The humid night air makes the pool all the more inviting and you quickly shimmy out of your skirt and peel your blouse off your body and before you can lose your nerve you jump into the pool.

It’s a nice shock to your system with the water being cool but not frigid, and as you opened your eyes beneath the water you felt like you were transported to a different world entirely. The light coming from the pool didn’t help clear your blurry vision, but as you look up and see the night sky meet the surface of the water, it looks as though there is no distance separating the two. As though your hand could break the top of the water and you would suddenly find yourself out amongst the stars.

It should be terrifying, but it’s not. In fact it's exhilarating. There’s no one here but you and the unjudging night. You feel like you’re the only person alive and as you breach the surface of the water to take a deep satisfying breath you feel reborn. You feel freer than you ever have been, you're not the perfect unquestioning daughter any longer, you’re a woman who can demand answers and leave if she so chooses.

You were always a good girl, and always listened to your daddy, because you wanted to feel like you deserved what he gave you. But all that pales in comparison to the intoxicating feeling this act of rebellion fills you with, and wanting to make this feeling last, you forgo your original plan of a quick dip and choose to make the most of your time there. You do your best to try to swim like a mermaid. You swim to the bottom to get a feel of the pool tiles that make up the palm tree design. You repeatedly try to break your own record for holding your breath, and you let yourself float to the surface and enjoy the view of the night sky above and the liberating feeling of being weightless.

But it’s the slight burning aroma in the air that drags you back down to Earth. It smells like tobacco and leather and various other spices you can’t quite place. You raise your head out of the water and look around to find the source of the fragrance. The chlorine has made your vision a bit hazy, but you can see clearly enough to see the handsome man dressed all in black, save for a blood red tie, sitting near the pool and chewing on a cigar.

Your first instinct, stupidly enough, is to duck back into the pool and hope he goes away, but that hope dies as quickly as you begin to feel the burning in your lungs for oxygen. You tentatively surface figuring you’ve been caught already, no use in denying it.

“I didn’t realize there were pool hours,” you say through your teeth.

The handsome stranger gives an amused huff at that. “Now that’s a lie if I ever heard one,” he states, a small smirk creeping up on his face. “Don’t worry Darlin’. I won’t tell if you don’t.” he says, using his cigar to point behind you where you find a no smoking sign. You let out a small giggle, some of the tension sapping out of you as at this little conspiracy you hold with this stranger.

“Sorry, I ain’t used to doin’ that,” you say, casting your eyes downward where you finally realize how your cotton bra became slightly see-through, and you pray that he’s too far away to notice. He raises an eyebrow at your answer.

“That I believe,” he chuckles. “So you’re a good girl afterall,” he remarks, and something lights up within you as he says that. The closest you’ve ever felt to this was when you had been kissing Mickey, your next door neighbor, at your friend Jasmine’s birthday party. It had been a simple game of spin the bottle and the kiss had started innocently enough in that hallway closet, as you were too shy to do so in front of everyone. Though it quickly turned into something more when he had put his hand on your lower back to bring you closer to him and something akin to lightning crackled underneath his touch and up your spine. The feeling had been so intense that you audibly gasped and pulled away from him, and now that same sensation runs through your body again.

What was scariest most of all was that this man was able to cause this with his voice alone, a good five feet away from you.

“Not always,” you answer, your voice only slightly cracking in nervousness. You swim closer to where he’s sitting, in part to hide yourself from his view, though mostly to hear him better, as you’re inexplicably drawn to him.

He chuckles at your answer, “Now that’s the biggest lie I ever heard,” he tells you, sure in his assessment of you despite the fact he hasn’t even known you for more than a minute. You're caught between being flustered and offended, at how accurate it is.

“What gave me away?” You ask not to be snippy, but genuinely curious, how he was able to have you pegged so quickly.

“Between your big ole’ doe eyes and your school girl get-up right here,” he said gesturing to the clothes you had haphazardly left on the deck chair. “Figured you’re too honest for your own good.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

He looks a bit taken aback by your response, before he gives an amused sigh, “No. Fact it’s a little refreshin’ to know people like you still exist. I’m Elvis by the way.”

“Well Elvis, you still haven’t answered my question.”

His lips curl up, amused at your boldness. “It can be, if you meet the wrong sorts.”

“And are you the wrong sorts?”

“Y’know you ask a lotta questions for someone whose name I don’t even know,” he remarks, though his smile keeps the tone light. “But to answer your question, it depends on who ya’ ask.”

“Well, I’m Y/N and if you ask me you look like a decent man.”

“And who taught ya’ what decent men look like?” he says as he leans closer to you, resting his elbows on his knees,

“My daddy, “ you say earnestly. “He’s a good, honest man, so I know what to look out for.”

He narrows his eyes at that as he takes a puff of his cigar. You’ve never been a good liar, never quite figuring out what your apparently obvious tell was, but everyone you've ever met is apparently able to. But whatever it is he was looking for he apparently found, as he proceeds to ask, “So what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way down in bumfuck Texas?”

“Oh umm…” you say, momentarily shocked by his free use of such language. “I’m with my daddy on vacation.”

“No kiddin’, where y’all headed to?”

“I honestly don’t know,” you sigh, putting your head down on your arms resting on the pool's edge. “He says he wants to keep it a surprise.”

“You havin’ any fun?”

“...yes?”

“Now that’s three times you tried lyin’ to me sweetheart,” he chuckles. “One more time, and I may not be so kind.” You don’t really understand why that made your breath quicken.

“You don’t even know my name,” you argue, sinking slightly so that he wouldn’t so easily see his effect on you. “How do you figure you know me so well?”

“I work just about everywhere, and part of my job is knowin’ a good liar from a bad one,” he explains. “And you sweetheart are one a the worst I ever seen.”

“What do you even know about lying?” you ask, a bit defensive of the truth.

“I know how to do it right,” he states genially, before raising an eyebrow to blow some smoke out of his nose. “I can teach you if you want?” You’re at a bit of a loss, though you quickly shake your head yes as you figure what’s the harm in hearing him speak.

Now that you’re getting a better look and the chlorine is seeping out of your eyes, you can truly see how attractive he is. He’s the scary type of good-looking, the type that makes it hard to look at him for too long, lest all your breath be taken from your chest. You have to consciously rip your eyes away from his face several times so that you don’t get too caught up in it. Truly he’s not like any man you’ve ever met before, but that’s not saying much considering how little you ever really interact with men. Sure there are boys your own age, and a few teachers here and there but, none of them talk with you so candidly, ironically enough given that this is a conversation about lies.

“Now the key to lyin’ is to always sprinkle it in with the truth,” he would say. You liked the way he spoke to you, not just because of how he sounds, but because of the way he treated you as you spoke. When he spoke to you, he made it feel as though he were passing on the secrets of the universe to you, and you just about hung onto every single word he uttered. You even bring most of your body out of the water simply to hear him better.

“Why don’t we play a game now lil’ one?” you face heating up slightly with that nickname he gave you. “Two lies and a truth.”

“Isn’t it two truths and a lie?”

“Usually, but you need to get better at the lyin’ bit, so we’re gon’ do it the other way.” he says with a small chuckle.

“Ok,” you say as you exit the pool. “But you go first, and show me how it’s done.”

His lip curls up into a full blown smile, but it quickly drops and he fixes his gaze on the sky. You’re confused at his reaction until you glance down and remember you’re not wearing a proper swimsuit. You scramble forward and do your best to quickly dry off and put your clothes back on all the while as Elvis keeps his eyes closed like a gentleman.

“Thank you,” you said quickly as you sat down and draped the soaked towel over your shoulders to hide the way your shirt clings to your wet brassiere. “Why do I even need to learn how to lie?”

“Sweetheart, take it from someone who knows what the world’s like,” he says. “Being good and honest won’t get you shit in life, especially not what you want.”

“Well…” you swallow unsure of your next words. “Now I think that’s a lie,” you say boldly.

He quirks a brow at this, and a bit of satisfied smile can also be just barely perceived as he is evidently impressed with your ability to stand up to him. “Y’know people are gonna be stirrin’ real soon, why don’t we head up to my room and finish up this game properly,” he offers casually, as though he was offering you a stick of gum.

You’re absolutely struck dumb by that question. Of course you’re not so naive as to what’s on his mind, you got the same wait till marriage speech every other girl in Sunday school got. And as adamant as you were that you would, it’s a very different situation to face now that the hypothetical has become a reality.

To say the least, that man had ignited something within you that you’re not sure how to say no to.

Scratch that.

You’re not sure you want to say no to.

“Y/N?”

You whip around so fast when you hear that familiar voice behind you. Your daddy is standing at the doorway, eyes darting between you and Elvis and he looks like he’s close to passing out. “Hi, Daddy, I-I uh…” your mind blanking, everything Elvis had just taught you about how to lie. “This-this isn’t what it l-looks like?” you say, but your tone makes it sound more like a question. A quick glance at Elvis sees him pursing his lips in a futile attempt to hide his smile, at your miserable excuse for a lie.

You look back at your daddy to find that his stare is focused solely on Elvis, who as of right now has perhaps the most easy-going expression in the world.

“Get inside and dry yourself off, gem. I don’t want you gettin’ sick.” he would tell you forlornly.

“Yes, daddy,” you answer obediently. Though it was as you were about to enter the room did you look back to Elvis still having not moved from his seat, whose focus is still solely on you, not even acknowledging your daddy. You want to say goodbye to him, but you're stopped by a familiar hand on your shoulder.

“Head inside, Y/N,” he says, his voice detached and his eyes distant. “I’m gonna have a few words with that man.”

You expected him to be angry at you, and if you’re being honest, a part of you you wanted him to be. And it was for a selfish reason of just wanting something to justify you breaking the rules in some way. But this is worse, he’s not mad, he’s not even disappointed. He looks heartbroken, seeing you with Elvis out there, knowing you didn’t listen to him.

You’re under the cool spray of the showerhead for a good half hour trying your best to scrub the chlorine smell off of your skin and waiting for that heat in your belly that Elvis caused to die down. You find your daddy sitting facing the window, and you can just barely make out his reflection in the window. There is a solemn expression on his face as he fixes his gaze out toward the pool area.

“Gem, I-I know you ain’t been havin’ any fun on this here trip,” he would say, not turning around to face you. “Believe me when I say we were going for a good reason,” you try not to perk up at his use of past tense, but you can’t help it. “Bu-but things changed sweetheart, and it’s up to you.”

“Up to me to what?” you ask.

There is a bit of a pause at that, and if it weren’t for that look of pain that you see in his reflection as you said that, you may have even thought he hadn’t heard you. “...To choose if we go home or not.”

“Oh…” you say, unsure of this offer. Choice is not exactly something you’re used to with daddy, aside from the occasional “pick your favorite color.” So you’re shocked at the question to say the least having fully expected to simply suffer through the rest of this trip and hope the destination was worth it. But you’ve never been a good liar in your life. “Yes, I do daddy.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep long breath before you see him nod his head, still not turning around to face you. “Well… that’s that then…” he says, as though he’s resolved himself to something, though you don’t know what. “I-I’m gonna go… settle up with the office right now. You get some rest cuz we’ll be heading home come mornin’.” Not wanting to jinx it, you follow his orders and lay down back on the scratchy sheets.

The guilt still eats at you, and as he opens the door, you quickly apologize to him for your disobedience, but his nod of acknowledgement does little to ease that uneasy feeling in your belly.

The trip back was in some ways better this time around, but you could hardly say that it was any more bearable. Daddy warnings came true and you woke up with a pretty bad bout of pink eye, but he wasn’t so stingy about either his time or money so stops were frequent. You were well beyond the age that you should enjoy the cheesy tourist traps, but they are welcome reliefs to the hours long car rides wrought with silence that would follow you and daddy from state to state. Not to mention you’re actually aware of your intended destination this time around, but you do your best to stamp down the burning questions within as to why such a heel turn, especially since the change in plans came immediately after your little stunt.

If he was mad at you, you wish he would just say so, but you can’t even sum it up to that anymore considering the way he looks at you sometimes. There was always a bit of a quiet sadness in his eyes when he looked at you that never quite left even once you got home. He got better and better at hiding it after you brought it up to him but you would still on occasion find that expression on his face from time to time when he thought you weren’t looking. Your best guess is that you’re starting to look more like your mama.

There were some nights where you would wonder if any of this new treatment from your daddy would have happened had you simply not gone into that pool, or even simply gotten out when you had promised yourself you would. You’d like to believe if you had known that that dive would have been your last taste of freedom, you would have done a better job at savoring it. That being said, when you caught a pair of icy blue eyes watching you and your daddy leave the El Rey motel, you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret anything about that night.

Daddy was being even more tight-lipped as to what this trip is about this time around. What’s worse, is that he’s not describing the trip as fun or even necessarily relaxing, just “necessary.” with no further explanation.

Elvis’ words about what happens to good and honest people ring in your mind. And as you lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, you ponder whether or not there was any truth to that statement.

You want to go to this party, if for the simple reason that you would like to dress up and have some fun. You want to go to your graduation ceremony, because you worked hard to finish school, and want to see the fruits of your labor. You want to celebrate with your friends for what may very well be the last time, because… because… well because you want to and it doesn’t seem like too much to ask for.

In another life they all aligned perfectly so that you would be able to do all three of these things, but you live in this life and a stupid flight for a trip you didn’t even want in the first place took priority over all of it.

Of course… that is if you get on that flight.

No that’s crazy, you think to yourself. You have to be on that flight tomorrow morning, which is why you need to be ready to leave and so you have to go to bed early. It would be a real shame if you were out so long and slept through the flight.

Maybe… maybe if I did stay out long enough and we miss the flight… There wouldn’t be any reason why I couldn’t go to the Graduation ceremony. You feel awful for these thoughts, and you recognize how sneaky and manipulative the plan forming in your head is. You do your best to ignore them by trying to remember how much your daddy wanted to go. But you want to be with your friends tomorrow, you want to graduate, and see them off properly, because your daddy hasn’t given you a clue as to when you would be coming back.

People have always remarked how lucky you were of all the things you have in your life, but you’ve always known that there was a difference between taking what you’re given and getting what you want. Every fancy or expensive thing you own comes with a story. They’re really all the same, daddy missed a school thing, a recital, a birthday, etc., because of work and in return he would give you something expensive in lieu of his absence.

You were of course grateful for these things but all you ever really wanted was your daddy there. So you always tried to strive towards earning your keep with good grades, good attitude, good social standing, truly all the markings of a perfect daughter. All of this done in an effort to earn his presence.

And what has the perfect daughter earned? You think bitterly to yourself as you pack your outfit into a garment bag. You quickly fix your hair up all fancy like and fix your makeup, all the while planning your escape route.

It’s truly a miracle that you were able to make your way out of your bedroom window without a scratch, but you’re not about to count your blessings yet, as your plan hinges on being able to get there, and you have no idea how to drive. But you know someone who does, which is how you find yourself pounding on Mickey’s front door.

He was the typical boy next door type who was your first kiss as well as the kid who put bugs in your hair when you were little. He was home from college for the summer with his shiny Lincoln Continental, his daddy gave you and according to his little sister, very sweet on you. He was therefore the best/only candidate as your date to this thing. You were lucky enough that he almost immediately agreed, and bolted upstairs to grab a suit to wear. You’re on a bit of a time crunch, so you quickly change in his little sister's room, and before you know it the both of you are on the road.

“S-so Y/N, who-whose party is this anyway?” he stutters out once, while stiffly but trying to appear casually resting his arm behind your seat.

“Oh my daddy’s boss,” you say casually. “I don’t know his full name, I just know him as Mr. Presley.”

He goes a bit, bug-eyed at your statement. “Re-really?”

You confirm, a bit confused at his reaction. “Do you know him?”

He restlessly taps at the steering wheel, before swallowing and saying that he knows of him. “Di-did he invite you personally?”

“Yeah,” you say, and you show him the invitation that was addressed to you personally. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” he responds, the worry still evident in his voice. “Does your dad know you’re goin’ there.”

You swallow, nervous at this new line of questioning. “...yes,” you answer looking out the window to avoid being seen by him.

“Does he know I’m with you right now?”

Your tongue is weighed down by the lies, and you’re unable to speak, so you merely hum in the affirmative.

“Hmm…” is all he responds, and the conversation peters out after that, with the only sounds to be heard being the hum of the engine and his anxious rapping of his fingers, as the two of you make your way to the big white house in Whitehaven.

Finally you come upon the bronze gates of the eye-catching estate. You show the Valet your invitation and they let you through easily, and you’re too busy marveling at the grand residence before you, that you failed to notice the way Mickey seemed to be sweating through his suit right next to you. No, you're occupied by trying to get the mask to sit just right to notice, and when you hand over the domino mask, he declines stating he’ll put it on after he parks the car. He tells you to go on ahead without him, and so lost to your excitement, you do just that, trusting that you would meet up with him soon.

As you made your way to the back of the house, your mind was already conjuring up this ideal image of your grand entrance to the party, where everyone would stop what they were doing to marvel at your beauty. Where you would be the mysterious unknown woman who had just arrived and took everyone’s breath away.

You realize your folly when you actually do come into view of the gathering at large and many people do notice your arrival. It’s not as flattering as you would have thought, and regret starts to seep into your belly.

The men wore pretty standard tuxedos, while the women were all wearing bold reds, striking golds, or even sophisticated black dresses, making you and your soft blue and white prom dress stick out like a sore thumb. It was almost like you had “outsider” written on your forehead. The men don’t really see you or actively look away from you and the many women look like they want to rip your hair out or pinch your cheeks. Despite how perfectly the dress fits you feel like that little girl who tried walking around the house in her sick mama's shoes, trying desperately to get her to smile, only to end up twisting her ankle, and making mama worry more.

You overhear some people say how celebrities like BB King, Johnny Cash, and even Frank Sinatra were present, and this just further tightens the knot in your stomach, and you wonder what you are even doing here.

Not even a full half hour and you’re ready to leave, as you’ve never been put into a situation where you don’t know a single person and you’re far from comfortable simply inserting yourself into conversations. You search to find Mickey, but in spite of the fact that he had worn a pretty distinct suit, you can find neither hide nor hair of him.

This was all too much to handle on your own and you’re silently cursing your earlier, bolder self. The entire floor seems to fall silent for a moment and everyone else’s attention is drawn to one direction for a moment. All except for you, as you take this opportunity to make your way outside of the party to gather yourself. Why did you think this would be a good idea? To go to a party where the few you could only vaguely recognize some, and know not even a single name? You remove your mask, ashamed you ever thought you would be able to pass yourself off as a woman and not the child you were.

All of these doubts are only further compounded as you feel a tap on your bare shoulder. “Pretty sure the point of these things is to wear a mask,” a voice like honey whispers near your ear. You’re so scared that you’ve unknowingly broken a cardinal rule and that you were about to be kicked out, though this eases somewhat as you see a light quirk on this stranger's lips.

Unlike the other men you’d seen at the party, he didn’t wear a simple black mask, no his was far more ornate, and with the burnt burgundy color to match his tie, in stark contrast to his all black suit, overall giving him a very devilish look. Whether it’s the perfectly coiffed hair or the plush lips, something about him feels deeply familiar.

You’re not able to pinpoint what exactly until you're finally caught by his icy blue gaze that was almost entirely muted by the red of his mask. “Elvis?” And when he gives you that devastating grin of his you launch yourself into him to wrap him in a hug. “What are you doing here?” you question, though you’re glad nonetheless to find at least one somewhat familiar face in a sea of masks.

“Like I said I do business everywhere, ‘specially in Memphis,” he said, pulling away to answer you yet his hands remain on your hips.

“Oh so you know Mr. Presley?”

He looks taken aback at your question for the briefest of seconds, before a soft smirk crosses his face. “You can say somethin’ like that,” thoroughly charmed by you. “So whatcha you doin’ in a place like this all by your lonesome?”

You let out a tired sigh before giving a sad smile and saying, “I don’t even know, anymore.”

You feel him put a finger under your chin, and you're brought to look him in the face. He looked genuinely concerned for you as he asked you “hey, now what’s wrong lil’ one?”

“Nothing,” you say, trying to dismiss his concerns.

He gives an amused chuckle, and he sounds mighty satisfied with himself as he says, “Still ain’t gotten any better at lyin’, huh Y/N?”

That does get a laugh out of you, albeit a sorry imitation of one. “Can’t believe that’s what you remember about me,” you say.

“I remember alotta things darlin’” he says. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Despite the fact that you’ve only met him twice in total, you know that there is no use in lying to him. So that’s how you find yourself regaling this man with your teenage woes as well as your devious plan to circumvent your fathers wishes. Elvis luckily enough is sympathetic to your plight, and seems thoroughly unimpressed with your fathers reasoning as to why you’re going to miss a major milestone in your life. “This was a bad idea.”

“Nah, it wasn’t a bad idea,” he reassures. “So-so execution, but not a bad plan.”

“I really should just go home,” you say, shaking your head. You try to turn away from him, only to be lead by the waist back to the party.

“Tell you what, Satnin,” he says. “I’ll take ya’ home by the end of the night. But first you gotta do somethin’ for me.” A devilish smirk crosses his face when he sees your breath quicken. “I want you to be my date.”

“What?”

“Well the flaw in your plan was, you don’t know anybody else,” he says. “But you know me, and I can make the proper introductions to everyone back there and you don’t gotta be Johnny’s daughter, you can be my new girl.”

He reaches to take the mask in your hand and steps behind you to put it in place. The more you think about his offer the more it makes sense. You’re alone here, and you could use a friend right about now, and it makes sense for said friend to be someone who is intimately familiar with this sort of lifestyle.

“What'dya say, darlin’,” he says as he quickly fastens the ribbon of your mask in place. “When you wear this mask here you can pretend to be anyone you want to be. So why not pretend to be my date?” He offers his hand to you and you hardly even hesitate a moment to take his hand.

Elvis is able to talk you through how to walk, talk, and overall, how to act like you belong here in the slightest. He doesn’t mind you practically clinging to his arm for most of the night, and he is able to make introductions to almost everybody attending. Elvis even introduces you to the mysterious Mr. Presley, a soft-spoken salt and pepper haired gentleman, who insists on being called Vernon. You hope your face doesn’t show it, but this is far from the man you always imagined in your head, the man whose name alone could make your daddy quake in his boots.

Though whatever thoughts you have about your host is quickly wiped away as Elvis quickly moves you to the next, more interesting guest. People have a tendency to gravitate towards Elvis, offering their congratulations to him, and remarks on how you’re one lucky lady. You bask in this, as for what for the first time in your life, people look at you and don’t see a child they see a woman.

It is around midnight when your good mood comes to a screeching halt, as you hear a loud commotion coming from the front of the party. “Y/N!? Y/N!? Where are you!” you hear your daddy yell amongst the crowd, accosting several women with even a passing resemblance to you. You quickly try to shield your face with your hand for all the good it would do, your face burning in humiliation.

Elvis seeing your distress quickly takes you by the elbow and leads you out of the bright lights of the dance floor, and into the shadows of the outside, and before you know it he’s leading you through the backdoors of the grand house.

“I don’t think we’re allowed in here.” you whisper to him as you still continue to follow his lead.

“Trust me, baby,” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulders, where you notice an open bottle of champagne. “Boss man won’t mind too much.”

“What’s this party for anyway?” you ask as you relieve yourself of the shoes you had been wearing, and take a seat next to him on the ground beside the couch.

“Mr. Presley’s gettin’ hitched tomorrow.” he says flippantly, all the while removing his mask.

“Oh…” you say, glancing down at your blue and white dress. “Oh dear lord, and I showed up in white,” you say, burying your face in your hands, embarrassed beyond belief at your faux pas.

“Don’t think nothin’ of it baby,” he says, taking your chin in his hand, to bring you to look at him. “Most a the folks out there don’t even know. ‘Sides you dressed all in blue brings back some nice memories a Texas.”

“I wasn’t exactly wearing blue, back then.”

“You weren’t exactly wearin’ much a anythin’,” he says with a coy grin, and you swat at his shoulder in retaliation. “Y’know, I been thinkin’ a lot ‘boutchu this past year and what you said ‘bout bein’ honest.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, bringing your hand up to his lips. “I realized I needed more honest people in my life.”

“Oh,” you answer simply, unsure as to how to really respond to that. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“But enough ‘bout that. You remember that game we tried playin’ back in Texas?”

“The lying one?”

“That’s the one. Let’s play that again, ‘cept this time we’ll make it a little more interesting.” With a soft smile he holds up the half-filled bottle of champagne, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he says, “you guess wrong or the other person gets it right, you gotta take a hit of this.” You think only for a moment, before ultimately agreeing, not wanting the night to end just yet.

You didn’t expect to win, but you didn’t expect to lose so miserably. He’s able to suss out any and all lies you state. He even changes the game midway to have it be two truths and a lie, hoping you’ll fare better with only needing to tell one lie rather than two. The few swigs he takes are from when you take your chances and randomly guess as to the true or false statement he’s making. And even then you get the impression it’s more to humor you.

Though as the bottle dwindles, you find yourself becoming bolder with both your lies and your truths, but it was all in an effort to keep up with how fantastical his statements were getting, not just the lies, but the truths as well. It really puts into perspective the kind of life he’s lived compared to you where any of the stories he tells you would be the craziest thing to have happened to anyone, yet they all somehow happened to him.

“I got played on the radio. I’m the most feared man here. I dodged the draft.” He said in one round, nothing about his body language giving him away, but with the amount of champagne you had you doubt you’d have picked up on them anyway. You also can’t quite remember at this point if it was two truths and a lie or two lies and a truth. With his fiendish attitude and rebellious nature you figure it was the last one and you tell him as much.

“Nah, darlin’, I did my due diligence for the country. Wish I didn’t sometimes, but that’s a whole other story.”

“Wait… you got played on the radio?” The idea of which was mind-blowing to you, but what was more shocking was his sudden shy demeanor.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, fiddling with one of his rings. “It was a small thing, song didn’t even make it outta the south.”

“Could you play something for me,” you ask, doing your best impression of a doe. You already like the way he speaks, so you can only imagine how it would sound for him to sing.

His eyes grow soft, at your request, and you're reminded of the pool at the El Rey Motel. How inviting those waters were, and how it felt almost like a cool balm on your restless soul.

“Maybe next time sweetheart,” he says. “‘Sides it’s your turn, and you ain’t even taken your shot yet,” handing the bottle, where you realize, there is perhaps only a mouthful or two left of the bubbly concoction, and it’s your turn.

“Ok, hmm…” you muse, after you had taken your drink, swirling the remnants in the bottle. Point wise, you have already most definitely lost the game, but that doesn’t mean you’re about to call it.

What was it he said about what makes a good lie? You internally ask yourself, trying to remember that little tidbit he gave you almost a year ago. That there’s always a bit of truth sprinkled within. And it’s as you remember this, that an idea suddenly strikes you.

“2 truths and a lie,” you announce to him. “I can’t ride a bike. My favorite candy is Lemonheads. And…” you hesitate, but power through before you lose your nerve completely. “And… I want to kiss you right now,” you’re finally able to stutter out

His eyes widen a little at your audacity, but he’s quick to collect himself, clearing his throat slightly and giving you a rakish smile as he answers. “That second one’s too specific to be fake.” he says, bringing his hands to cup your chin. “And ain’t no way that last ones a lie.” all the while coming closer to you. “So Imma go with the first one bein’ a lie.”

When his lips are maybe an inch away from yours do you put the bottle between the two of you.

“Drink,” you command, backing away from the bottle slightly. “I cannot ride a bike to save my life, it was the last one that was a lie,” you state, willing your voice not to waiver. “I don’t want to kiss you.” To really drive it home how good you’ve gotten at this lying business.

“O-oh,” he says, looking down ashamed.

“The truth is… I really, really want to kiss you,” you say, giggling ecstatically that he fell for your little ploy.

You get the pleasure of seeing a look of shock and confusion pass through his face, before it’s quickly replaced with a look of pride directed solely towards you. You worry slightly until you feel an arm slip around your waist and you're brought closer to him. So close that you find yourself straddling him. You’re not sure if the burning in your face is from embarrassment… or… something else entirely.

“That’s a dirty little trick there darlin’,” he says, his hands firmly on your hips keeping you in place, as though you would even want to leave at this point. “Who taught ya’ to lie like that, huh?”

“You did,” you declare, moving closer to him so that you’re practically nose to nose with him. For as bold as you’re being right now you wait for him to close the distance between the two of you. And luckily for you, you don’t have to wait long.

Of the few kisses you’ve had, none have ever been even remotely close to this. This isn’t the demure cheek kisses on your porch that just barely grazed the corner of your mouth, nor was it the shy pawings in a hallway closet after a game of spin the bottle. Those were experiences with boys, while Elvis… Elvis is a man.

It started out similar enough with a soft brushing of your lips with his as he slowly but surely the two of you became bolder and bolder. His lips capture yours to nibble lightly on your bottom lip, which you meet by throwing your arms around his neck. He throws you a bit off balance by planting his hands underneath your thighs, so you steady yourself by planting a hand on his slightly exposed chest.

It isn’t until you felt his tongue lightly brush against yours, did you pull back gasping for air. You can only imagine the kind of image you made right now with your chest heaving and your no doubt blown out eyes, but from the fiery look in his eyes he seems to enjoy it very much.

He leans forward into you as he starts to leave open mouthed kisses along your neck, which does nothing to help even out your breathing. Especially not when you can feel one of his hands begin to undo the pearl buttons along your back, while the other slowly inched its way under your dress.

“Follow me upstairs baby,” he whispers in your ear. “And I can teach ya’ so much more.”

Thoughts like the fact that this house doesn’t belong to either of you or that your daddy is out there looking for you are far from your mind as you breathlessly say yes to him. As you move to stand up, he stops you, “Take off the dress sweetheart,” he orders softly, his gaze searing into you, while he loosens his tie. “I wanna see all of you.”

You shakily move to stand and you undo the final few buttons on your lower back all the while hyper aware of his stare. You’re still untrained in the arts of seduction so rather than draw it out, you simply let the material drop down and pool at your feet and onto his lap. A part of you feels embarrassed at your undoubtedly boring white cotton bra and panty set you were wearing, and you silently look up and away from him to await his approval.

“That’s my girl,” he hums in approval, and you’re able to release that shuddering breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Though you quickly draw air back in when you feel him place his hands on your hips and give a quick kiss to your cotton covered kitty.

Your heart is fluttering in your chest like a hummingbird as he leads you by the hand up the stairs and the warmth in your belly and the fuzziness in your head makes all of it feel like a dream. Not helped by the intensity of his oasis blue eyes, and you’re once again bathed in that same feeling when you were in that motel pool: that of being the only person alive.

You often thought about that night at the motel, and wondered what would have happened if you were a little quicker on the draw to his invitation back to his room. Through Mrs. Sacks talks and your friends' whisperings you understood the basic mechanics of it, and that if the man was good, it was supposed to be very pleasurable, but not much else. Elvis in many ways was a safe choice to fantasize about, as you never would have guessed you would see him again.

But as he lays you down in the largest bed you’ve ever seen in your life, do you really begin to question how well your fantasies have prepared you. He removes his shirt with practiced efficiency, all the while keeping his eyes squarely on you, the dim lighting doing little to shield you from his piercing stare. You’re left to pathetically writhe on the bed as he stands back up to unbutton his shirt, not being helped one bit by his bitten off smirk at your state.

You’re practically heaving as he crawls over you, and he captures your lips once more. In the privacy of this bedroom, the kisses turn from tender to filthy. His tongue probing your mouth with wild abandon as one hand deftly unhooks your bra. It is as you’re about to

“Lord, I’ve dreamed about these,” he says as he drags the soft cotton material off of your chest. You fight the urge to cover yourself, still wanting to obey his earlier command to see all of you. He leaves a trail of open mouth kisses down the slope of your breast until he finally meets a budding peak and takes it into his mouth. The act catches you so off guard that you can’t stop your lewd reaction to it.

“Ain’t a single day passes that I don’t think about you in that pool baby,” he whispers into your skin. The soft mewls from the warmth of his tongue as he laves at your nipples, are swiftly replaced with sharp yelps when you feel his cool breath blow lightly on the moistened area. Part of you doubts you’re even going to survive this night, given the difference in experience between the two of you. “Seein’ your sweet tits just beggin’ to be touched.” and he emphasizes his point with a slight scrape of his teeth on your nipple.

You’re hoping to make up for your lack of experience by sheer enthusiasm, so when you find him making his way off the bed, his eyes fixated on that final piece of clothing that hides your woman hood from his view, you spread your legs, eager to show him how much you wanted him. But when you’re rewarded for your eagerness with a kiss to your inner thigh, that immediately wants you to close them once more, but his strong hands make that impossible.

“Though I think these are just as wet as they were back then,” he purrs before licking a stipe up the seam of your kitty. You’re lost to the sensation of it, wanting to recoil but simultaneously embrace what he’s stirring up inside of you, much like back then.

You hear a ripping sound coming from him and you suddenly feel the cool night air fully hitting your burning core and you shiver at the delicious sensation of it. Even those few times you were brave enough to do anything remotely close to this it was always over the fabric and now you were left completely defenseless to this man's eyes. And if that’s not enough vulnerability for him, he proceeds to ask how you touch yourself.

You’re at a loss for words at his invasive question, but not so offended that you don’t answer him. And you shamefully tell him how you’ve only ever occasionally rubbed yourself against your pillows to chase that euphoric feeling.

“I’d like to see that sometime, doll,” he purrs, making you shiver. “But for right now we gotta getcha good and ready for me.”

Before you can question what he means about that, you feel something probe at your entrance, and you feel his fingers soft circle that secret little button you’ve always been too afraid to mess with. You’re a panting mess and you’re giving into whatever feels good at the moment, and you can’t help the way your hips move in tandem with his fingers, as it was simultaneously too much yet not enough. Though you quickly learn what is too much when you feel not one but two of his fingers within you and start going at a steady rhythm, all the while the palm of his hand continually rubs at that button.

You’ve long since given into the depravity of this act, but you’re still grateful that Elvis has the judgment to try to muffle your wanton shrieks with his sweet kisses. So sweet that it stands in sharp contrast to the lewd things his hands are doing between your thighs. All too soon, just as you’re getting used to that stretched feeling does he pull his hands free and you let out a needy sob as you’re left feeling achingly empty.

He chuckles at your neediness, as he brings his hand up and you see for the first time the evidence of the long-dormant immodest side of yourself glistening on his fingers. Before you can even begin to feel the burn of shame, he sticks those fingers into his mouth and lets out a long-satisfied hum, and you find yourself burning in a different way.

“You’re so sweet darlin’,” he whispers against your lips and you’re helpless to do nothing but open your mouth to have a taste.

You think you know what to expect next, until he makes a show moving down your body until he’s crouched down between your legs and gathers all the excess wetness between your thighs with his tongue. Your confusion is apparently evident as he takes a moment to pause and look you in the eye as with that trademark devilish smirk on his lips as he dives straight to the source of your heat.

None of your friends had ever described anything close to this, or if they did they failed to mention how wonderful it would feel. Your back arches almost entirely off the bed, as your thighs reflexively box in his head, and you’re moaning freely at the sensation of it. His tongue quickly replaces his thumb at the sensitive bundle of nerves, and with the fingers that were already going at a steady rhythm inside of you, you’re a goner.

After you come down from that euphoric peak, you’ll apologize to him for all the embarrassing noises you made. He’ll quiet you with a kiss, and you shudder at the more potent taste of yourself. “Y/N, you’re one a the few people in those whole fucked up world who can’t hide how they feel. It’s why you’re gon’ be mine,” his dark rasp only adds to the bliss you’re feeling, as he gives you a soft kiss.

He pulls away from you once your breath has steadied somewhat. In spite of how tired you were, you still wanted to know more, now that you’ve come this far.

You go a bit wide-eyed when you see him unbuckle his pants and you see in person for the first time what makes girls and boys so different. You have done a bit of exploring on your own, and you understood from what Old Mrs’ Sack’s birds and the bees talk, that boys have something like that, but you didn’t ever realize that it could be so big. Your mouth is dry as you speak, “How… how is that going to fit?”

Even in the low lighting of the bedroom, you can still make out his dazzling smile before he gives you a soft kiss to your nose. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout that sweetheart,” he says as he cups your chin. “This is the most natural thing in the world. You were made to take me like this darlin’.” You don’t fully understand why that gets a particularly wanton moan out of you, but you don’t fight it. “Just lay back and relax baby girl, and I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he promises, taking a nibble of your earlobe.

You follow his orders and lay amongst the pillows as his strong hands align your hips with his. There is a burning sensation below as you feel the head, and he gives you a moment to adjust, and you bite harder into your lip, until he takes his thumb and gently removes it from between your teeth to give you a sweet kiss.

“I wanna hear ya’ baby,” he says, his lips brushing against yours, as he starts to slowly push forward.

And forward.

Until you finally feel all of him, long and oddly heavy, fully sheathed within you. You fight back your tears, but his gentle kisses along your face and praises in your ear as to how good you’re being all make the experience far more bearable. He shifts ever so slightly within you, causing a particularly filthy moan from you.

Elvis takes this as his signal to almost entirely remove himself, and your tiny whimpers are only quieted as he slams himself back into place. The suddenness of the act robbing you of a voice, and it would have scared you to death, were it not for his whispers asking if you trust him on this.

“I do,” is all you’re able to manage, and that seems to set him off like a switch. The hunger for you is apparent in his eyes and as he picks up the pace and you’re freely keening and whining, he plants his mouth on yours as though he wants to consume you entirely.

How can he move his hips like this, is perhaps your last coherent thought of the night as he continually rocks back into you. You, in vain, try to keep up with his thrusts, but your amateurish movements are quickly outmatched with his as he moves his hands on to your waist to move you in tandem with his and you love every single second of it, especially when he’s able to hit a particular spot within you that you never knew existed. That coil in your belly straining further and further, until it finally snaps and you let out an unrestrained cry to the heavens themselves.

He’s not too far behind you as his thrusts begin to sputter, until he finally stills and you wrap your legs around his hips, enjoying the pleasantly warm feeling of his seed within you.

You’re nothing more than a boneless heap after all was said and done, barely having enough strength to open your eyes. Elvis is able to maneuver you under the silky sheets with him and the wonderfully cool fabric is able to dissipate the last remnants of burning heat within you, allowing you to settle in his arms. You shiver as you feel yourself leaking on to a complete stranger's sheets, but you’re so tired right now you figure that that can be a problem for tomorrow.

You’re brought back to the land of the living when you feel the warm rays of the sun on your back, your eyes aching and your nether regions pleasantly sore. You don’t immediately do anything about your current state, wanting to bask in this feeling for a little while, though eventually the soft ticking sound of the clock radio reminds you of why you embarked on this adventure in the first place.

You shoot out of bed to see that you have most definitely missed your graduation ceremony by this point. You hang your head, and will yourself not to cry at the almost karmic punishment, you’ve been dealt. But you can hardly call it one because this is a direct result of your own actions.

And it is as you’re internally berating yourself for your willfulness, do you realize that Elvis is nowhere to be found. And that is truly the cherry on top to this awful sundae, knowing you spent a night with a charlatan in favor of getting what you want.

You feel used and humiliated, and it is as if you're trying to prevent the tears from flowing, do you see the attached bathroom, and realize that you’re in the master bedroom.

Oh dear lord, this is Mr. Presley’s room, you think while burying your face in your hands. You’re absolutely humiliated that you put yourself in this position and you worry as to how you’re going to get home. The solution before you is simple but it is far from an easy choice. It’s hardly a choice at all, considering that the alternative is sneaking off of the property and taking your chances walking home alone in nothing but a white silk robe you found.

And that’s how you find yourself aimlessly walking around a strangers home, and silently praying that they are charitable enough to take you home. Good humor or no, you doubt there is a world where Mr. Presley doesn’t look at daddy differently after this.

Once you’re downstairs do you finally come across a closed door with some sign of life behind it. You’re so desperate you don’t even hesitate in opening it only to be met with at least a dozen pairs of eyes on you, all of which were surrounding your missing lover, sitting with his feet propped up on a desk. “Ahh Y/N yer here just in time, why dontcha come on in?” he half sings to you, patting his lap. You’re beyond confused by this point that you don’t even think twice about doing so, instead focusing on making sure that your robe stays closed. “Sonny, go get ‘em.” you hear from him, as he puts his feet down on to the floor and brings his hands outward to you, and with all of the eyes on you, you comply.

He sits you on his lap, and you can hardly begin to comprehend what’s happening, before you hear a big commotion somewhere in the house, that only seems to be getting closer. You see the men begin to set down a tarp on the floor and you see a row of weapons all sitting casually before you on the desk before you. Panic begins to set in as you see Elvis for the first time in the light of day, and his deranged focus is solely on you.

“Elvis what is going on here?” you question, tears in your eyes, his firm grip making escape impossible.

“I’m gettin’ what I’m owed sweetheart,” he whispers, as the door bursts open and you see two men throw a third to the tarped floor face first. You almost don’t recognize him at first, as you can’t comprehend why he would be here, but eventually there is no denying it.

“Daddy?” you say forcibly pulling yourself off of him to try to get to him. Some of the men hold you back as you see Elvis saunter his way over to him before you can.

Elvis says as he crouches down to where your daddy was forced to his knees, and forcefully pulls your daddy’s head back by his hair to face you directly. “You wanna tell her Johnny boy, or should I?”

Your daddy sputters, eyes darting between you and ELvis once again, before he looks down and tries to say. “Gem, I-I… I don’t kno-”

“You lyin’ sack a shit!” Elvis explosively cuts him off producing a gun from his waist. “Tell the fuckin’ truth to your daughter,” he says pressing a gun to your daddy’s temple. Your daddy looks devastated at his words, his mouth opening and closing, apparently choking on his own words as he looks between you and Elvis.

You’re frozen in place at that moment, too scared of the man you thought you knew, and too scared for the man you thought you knew.

“Y/N, I-I…” he looks close to tears, something you’ve never seen on his face before. “I-I been workin’ for Elvis-”

An ominous click, cuts him off, and the man in question sneers “try again.”

Your daddy audibly gulped at this point. “I’ve been handlin’ the money for Mr. Presley here for almost ten years,” he says in a low whisper.

That sort of answers some questions, but you can hardly figure out what this has to do with you. But hearing who exactly Mr. Presley, is and that you spent the night with him is incomprehensible.

“After,” he pauses to take a steadying breath. “After your Mama passed, I-I needed all the help I could get, and… and… I took more than my fair cut.” he says his eyes closed, avoiding looking at your face, as he takes a steadying breath. “Last year, when he found out what I was doin’, I tried ru-running with you.”

“A liar, a thief, and a fuckin’ coward, is what you got for a daddy Y/N,” Elvis japes. “It’s a literal fuckin’ miracle you came out so perfect doll,” he says as he gently brushes your cheek with his knuckles. You would have recoiled, had it not been for the very present fear you had for this man and the gun still pointed at your daddy’s head.

“Whe-when found us he gave me one last chance to settle. He made me a deal there, that he would forgive me if I… if I…Promised him…” his lip is trembling by this point and he can’t even look at you.

“Daddy… What did you promise him?” You say in a small voice, having a sneaking suspicion and praying to god that you’re not proven right.

“Baby, I-I’ve done some bad things in my life, but I did it all for you,” he says looking down, the tears streaking down his face. “I-I promised him… you.”

You step as far away back as the desk allows you to, and your knees almost give in beneath you at what you just heard. Because there is absolutely no way that he had just said what he did. You can’t believe it, but the more you think about it the more things begin to make sense. WHy your freedom has been limited in the past year. Why your daddy made you focus especially on learning Spanish this past year. WHy you weren’t allowed with any boys.

“One year, Johnny,” Elvis says, interrupting your spiral. He is holding up a single finger in front of your daddy’s face as he continues, “That’s how long I gave you to get her used to the idea. And you fucked it up, for not just yourself but for her. And I gotta find out last minute, that you been wasting it planning another fucking trip?”

“I couldn’t go through with it,” daddy pleads. “Please I-I’ll get the money, I’ll do whatever I gotta, just please let her go!”

“Now how the hell am I supposed to trust that? You already backed out of a deal once, how the hell am I supposed to trust this one?” Elvis asks him as he walks away from him and towards you, while daddy has the decency to look ashamed. “Now lucky for you, your daughter ain’t nothin’ like you, Johnny,” his tone is almost reverent as he speaks of you. “And I don’t believe she’s in the business of makin’ promises she won’t keep, right sweetheart?”

“Elvis… I don’t understand,” you say with tears in your eyes.

“It’s real simple baby,” Elvis says. “I’m given’ you a choice. Walk away and your daddy pays back what he stole the hard way. Or,” he says cupping your cheek far too tenderly for what he’s about to offer. “Be my wife and your daddy can go free.”

It’s hardly a decision for you at that point. Because for as mad as you are at him, that’s your daddy and you could never wish him harm. But there is a burning question, in the back of your mind, and you know whatever the answer is, it’s going to hurt. And yet the newly discovered masochist within you demands an answer.

“How much?”

“What?”

“I need a number,” you declare, “How much was my life worth daddy?”

He looks heartbroken as to how you view the situation, but really how else can you look at it? Your daddy took money from a dangerous man, and now, said man is looking for what he paid for. Nevertheless he lowers his head and he mumbles out a number.

The number he gives is large, but it’s still not nearly enough for what you thought your life was worth in your mind. Your father hangs his head in shame, evidently knowing you well enough to know how much he’s hurt you.

You can hardly call what you had a proper wedding, Elvis is cruel enough to make you go through the motions of it in the still somewhat setup backyard. You’re put into a beautiful white dress that fits like a glove, and handed a gorgeous bouquet, and you’re only a little disturbed by the fact that the dress is perfectly tailored or that these are your favorite flowers. Though these quickly leave your mind as you see your father at the bottom of the steps.

A part of you wanted to refuse your father and walk yourself down the aisle. That petty part, wanting to further twist the knife of his future exile by denying him this near sacred final right of a father to be able to do so. But the better part of you prevails as for as much as you want to be seen as a fully grown woman, you still very much feel like a little girl who needs to hold her daddy’s hand in a scary situation. And this is undoubtedly the scariest thing you’ve ever done.

Which only further burns as you’re reminded that you’re in this situation because of him.

Your father walks you down the makeshift aisle of the backyard with a busted lip and a vacant look in his eyes to match your own. For as mad as you are at him, you don’t want him to be hurt or worse for what he did. That doesn’t mean you want to have to look at him anymore.

Your daddy was an accountant, but as you signed your name on that marriage license, you realize you aren’t an accountant's daughter any more. And just like that you’re a proper married woman.

After the ceremony, there is only a small reception to follow, with those closest to your new husband having been invited. Evidently your father didn’t make the cut, which may be for the best as you doubt you will even be able to look at him right now as Elvis sits you on his lap while all of his men dole out congratulations to the two of you.

Later on when you’re alone with him you will beg Elvis for a reason that isn’t just some power trip over your father or that he truly believes that you were something worth the amount that your father took from him. You’re willing to believe anything at this point.

“Oh baby, you don’t gotta worry one bit,” he reassures you while kissing away your tears. “If this was about money, I woulda taken what he offered way back when. But no I’ve loved ya’ since Texas.”

“But why?” you cry.

“Because of that satnin,” he says. “You’re a rare breed these days: honest. I knew it since the moment I saw ya’ that you were what I needed in my life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you can’t lie for shit. Especially not to me.” he says, planting kisses along your newly exposed skin. “I know I chose the perfect wife for me.”

Would you have chosen him if given the choice? You don’t know. You may never know, but if growing up a not-accountant’s daughter has taught you anything is how to take what you’re given and be grateful for it.

Ending note: I was 9k in when I realized I pulled a “I sold you to one direction,” Welp that’s the way it goes sometimes.

Taglist

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cyarsk52-20 · 1 year

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'The Blacklist' Series Finale: How the NBC Thriller Ended After 10 Seasons

After 10 seasons and 218 episodes, NBC's international crime thriller came to an end on July 13

This post contains spoilers for Thursday’s series finale of The Blacklist.

The Blacklist has reached the end of its run.

On Thursday, July 13, the hit investigative series from NBC reached its close. Created by crime juggernaut Jon Bokenkamp of Taking Lives and The Call, The Blacklist followed former fugitive Raymond “Red” Reddington (James Spader), who turned himself in with his own list of the most wanted fugitives with two conditions: immunity, and that he only speak with FBI rookie Elizabeth "Liz" Keen (Megan Boone).

After Liz’s shocking death in season 8 by a revenge-thirsty hitman, Red returned to his deal with the FBI to hunt down the criminals of the blacklist in her memory. Soon, however, the committee’s operations under Harold Cooper (Harry Lenix) and Red’s own criminal enterprise came into question.

RELATED: 'The Blacklist' Will End After Upcoming 10th Season: 'It's Been Incredibly Fun'

By the end of season 10, Red was officially called in by the Congressman Arthur Hudson’s (Toby Leonard Moore) task force. This left Red on the run, severing ties with the FBI and keeping one step ahead. A show built on criminal cat-and-mouse games, Red’s evasion was one last hurrah for The Blacklist.

Still, Red’s close personal ties to some individuals on the Task Force, including his former bodyguard-turned-FBI Special Agent Dembe Zuma (Hisham Tawfiq), made the committee’s movements fraught.

"Don't do me any more favors," Red demanded in a secret phone call to Zuma in the two-part finale’s opening scene. "I won't. I'm going to bring you in, Raymond," Zuma answered.

While the Task Force may have captured Red’s license plate and were tracking down the car, they quickly learned that Red had multiple cars driving as a diversion. Their standard techniques simply wouldn't work in hunting down Red.

“You may want to think of Raymond as an ordinary criminal,” Zuma told the committee. “That would be a mistake.” He then reminded them that “it’s his mind we should be worried about.”

As Red camped out, he called real estate agent Andrea Athens (Krista Braun). The agents were able to track down his temporary safehouse, primarily through Zuma’s reasoning. “You’ve got a hunch, don’t you?” agent Siya Malik (Anya Banerjee) asked. “It’s not on that list, is it?"

RELATED: 'The Blacklist' Superfan Al Roker Guest Stars on the 150th Episode: 'The Mind Boggles'

Still, the agents just missed Red, but learned of his new destination: a beat-down house that he was supposedly purchasing. When they arrived, the house was on fire.

“Raymond’s using the fire,” Zuma realized. “That’s how he’s getting out.”

Ever ahead of the curve, Red left the fire truck and drove off in a cab.

The disarray of the Task Force raged on, as Congressman Hudson became more paranoid of his team’s intentions. “How many times do we have to fail before we admit there’s a reason he’s always one step ahead?” he questioned.

Eventually, Hudson learned that a call was made to a burner phone before the chase, confirming his suspicion that Red was tipped off.

Zuma realized that Red only had two options: up, by plane, or out, by boat. Eventually, the crew set their sights on Tillman’s Wharf, but before they could leave, Hudson demanded Zuma be brought in for questioning. After Cooper fought back, they agreed that he can be interrogated en route.

After reaching the wharf, Zuma learned that Red had taken out the Great Shirley. Before they could track the boat down, though, Zuma was arrested for aiding and abetting a fugitive. “Hope he washed his hands,” the Congressman spouted off.

Meanwhile, Red got off a smaller boat, proclaiming that he “sunk” the Great Shirley, and drove off unscathed.

Cooper demanded to speak with Zuma, bursting his way into the questioning room and quickly admitting to tipping Red off. “Raymond is gone,” he said. “Someone on this Task Force will be held accountable. It should be me.”

And he was right: Red was currently in the process of leaving the country, though he had gotten word of Zuma’s arrest.

RELATED: Tom Keen is Back! Ryan Eggold Talks Return to 'The Blacklist' as Series Regular

Zuma was eventually dragged off for questioning, with Hudson’s paranoia coming to a head: “I don’t trust you, I don’t trust him, and I certainly don’t trust this place.” Agent Donald Ressler (Diego Klattenhoff) quickly joined them.

Wracked with guilt, Red crashed his car into the FBI and attempted to save Zuma. Still, Zuma told Red that he wouldn't go with him. Just then, Hudson and Ressler got out of the car and raised their weapons. Hudson shot Zuma in the neck, at which point Red shot Hudson and Ressler. While Ressler survived, the Congressman was left dead on the ground, closing out the first episode of the finale.

Agent Malik tracked Red down to a local nursing home, sending the Task Force to capture him. However, by the time they reached the home, Red was gone and Zuma was in the midst of an operation. Zuma survived after Red gave him a blood transfer, and the nurse alerted the agents that Red left looking unwell.

Hudson’s right-hand man Jordan Nixon (Derrick Williams) declared that when he finds Red, he doesn’t just want to capture him; he’ll “put him down.” This caused some agents to jump ship, while Cooper confronted Nixon over the claim, leading to a physical altercation.

Cooper and Malik headed to the bathhouse that Red resided in before his flight, but found nothing. Nixon soon arrived, having followed them with his own crew. Once they left, Malik had a realization: the bull skull that Red kept had gone missing. This clued them to his location in Spain.

Sure enough, the episode then cut to Red living in Seville, attempting to contact his granddaughter.

Ressler arrived at the house in Seville, while Red called Zuma and Cooper, keeping his cool. When Ressler searched the house, he was unable to find Red. Minutes later, Red learned of Ressler’s visit, and planed his trip to drop the skull off at the Miura Bull Ranch.

While Red hobbled away from the house in Seville, Zuma and Cooper reflected on the finality of their journey. “It’s hard to believe this is how it ends,” Cooper said, to which Zuma tearfully added, “Our time with him, our time together, it was never about how it ended.”

Continuing his walk, a weary Red spotted a bull in the wild. The ultimate sign of death, the bull made movements to charge at him. And, in the closing scene of the finale, Ressler found Red’s mangled body on the ground, killed by the creature that meant so much to him throughout the show’s tenure.

Never miss a story — sign up for PEOPLE's free daily newsletter to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer, from juicy celebrity news to compelling human interest stories.

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What’s your favorite moment from “the blacklist”?

#Series finale #the blacklist #carsmoke #promo pics #james spader #raymond reddington #donald ressler #season 10

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one-winged-dreams · 5 months

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-*sees ask game, cracks knuckles*- Just answer for whatever ship you're focused on at the moment. How did they first meet? Did either of them try to resist their feelings? Who gets jealous easier? What are their favorite things to do together? If they get married, who proposes?

MAX ON MY SELFSHIP BLOG HOURS

I showed you Gladio and now you get to watch me be absolutely mentally ill about him lmao

How did they first meet?

He and Lux met when they were like 13 because of official Crownsguard business bullshit (Lux's family have been the King's dragoons for like, ever because lore is free real estate) and it was SUPER awkward because Lux was a very unhappy child and Gladio was like "Okay."

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Not really? When they were like, 14, little baby Iris was like "Gladdy, is that your [boy]friend?" and Gladio said "I mean, I guess so."

And Lux said "I have to go," and sprinted off into the distance until the next time they hung out and they were just like "Yep." "Uhuh."

Who gets jealous easier?

Gladio but only by a margin.

Lux is more of the scoff and roll his eyes type of jealous, Gladio is like "Is this guy bothering you, king?"

What are their favorite things to do together?

"Wilderness excursions" they call it.

Lmao, no for real though, all five of these guys are stuck doing everything together at any given moment, so when Lux and Gladio get a chance to themselves it's either "wilderness excursions" or just laying around cuddling while Gladio reads and Lux plays games on his phone.

If they get married, who proposes?

Return to Iris making things awkward during the timeskip constantly calling them both "Hey Lux, has Gladdy proposed yet?" "GLADDY, when are you gonna propose!?"

It has to be Gladio because Lux doesn't care about that sort of thing. He's like "You know I won't be upset if you never pop the question, right?" "I'M GOING TO, it's sentimental!" "OKAY, GODS, FUCK."

Let's just say, without spoiling it, they wanted EVERYONE in the group present for it.

#answers #cr: gladiolus #max!

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newstfionline · 5 months

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Tuesday, April 16, 2024

Are Americans feeling like they get enough sleep? (AP) If you’re feeling—YAWN—sleepy or tired while you read this and wish you could get some more shut-eye, you’re not alone. A majority of Americans say they would feel better if they could have more sleep, according to a new poll. But in the U.S., the ethos of grinding and pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps is ubiquitous, both in the country’s beginnings and our current environment of always-on technology and work hours. And getting enough sleep can seem like a dream. The Gallup poll, released Monday, found 57% of Americans say they would feel better if they could get more sleep, while only 42% say they are getting as much sleep as they need. That’s a first in Gallup polling since 2001; in 2013, when Americans were last asked, it was just about the reverse—56% saying they got the needed sleep and 43% saying they didn’t.

Trump’s New York jury selection a challenge in a city of strong opinions (Reuters) When prospective New York City jurors gather for Donald Trump’s hush money criminal trial on Monday, it may be tough to find ones who don’t have an opinion about the brash businessman-turned-politician who began building his real estate empire in Manhattan decades ago. They will be questioned by lawyers for the Republican presidential candidate and the state of New York seeking to uncover biases and possible political agendas before impaneling 12 jurors to hear what could be the only criminal case Trump faces before the November U.S. election. “There is almost nobody in New York who doesn’t have an opinion about Donald Trump,” said trial lawyer Paul Applebaum, who is not involved in the case. “A lot of people think he’s either Satan incarnate or the second coming of Jesus.”

Wolves (Les Echos/France) For the past 30 years, the number of wolves has steadily increased in France — great news for biodiversity but not for farmers. Eradicated from the country around 1930, wolves started returning to France in the early 1990s, arriving from Italy. The number of individuals has almost doubled in the past five years to reach 1,104, according to the French Office for Biodiversity (OFB). Wolf attacks have officially caused the death of just over 12,000 farm animals each year. Behind the issue of cohabitating with wolves lie fractures tearing contemporary European societies apart. A standoff is forming between two words that ignore each other geographically and sociologically and accuse each other of bad faith. Claude Font, general secretary of the National Sheep Federation, says that there are “two worlds that can’t agree with each other”: one, made up of “those who have to live alongside predators”; and the other composed of “those who dream of wolves and biodiversity while they go back home comfortably in the evening."

Far Right’s Ties to Russia Sow Rising Alarm in Germany (NYT) To enter a secret session of Germany’s Parliament, lawmakers must lock their phones and leave them outside. Inside, they are not even allowed to take notes. Yet to many politicians, these precautions against espionage now feel like something of a farce. Because seated alongside them in those classified meetings are members of the Alternative for Germany, the far-right party known by its German abbreviation, AfD. In the past few months alone, a leading AfD politician was accused of taking money from pro-Kremlin strategists. One of the party’s parliamentary aides was exposed as having links to a Russian intelligence operative. And some of its state lawmakers flew to Moscow to observe Russia’s stage-managed elections. “To know with certainty that sitting there, while these sensitive issues are discussed, are lawmakers with proven connections to Moscow—it doesn’t just make me uncomfortable. It worries me,” said Erhard Grundl, a Green party member of the Parliament’s foreign affairs committee. The AfD called such comments “baseless.”

Ukraine’s attacks on Russian oil refineries deepen tensions with U.S. (Washington Post) When Vice President Harris met privately with Volodymyr Zelensky at the Munich Security Conference in February, she told the Ukrainian leader something he didn’t want to hear: Refrain from attacking Russian oil refineries, a tactic U.S. officials believed would raise global energy prices and invite more aggressive Russian retaliation inside Ukraine. The request, according to officials familiar with the matter, irritated Zelensky and his top aides, who view Kyiv’s string of drone strikes on Russian energy facilities as a rare bright spot in a grinding war with a bigger and better equipped foe. Zelensky brushed off the recommendation. Instead of acquiescing to the U.S. requests, Ukraine doubled down on the strategy, striking a range of Russian facilities, including an April 2 attack on Russia’s third-largest refinery 800 miles from the front. The incidents have exacerbated tensions in a strained relationship with the U.S. The long-range Ukrainian strikes, which have hit more than a dozen refineries since January and disrupted at least 10 percent of Russian oil refinery capacity, come as President Biden ramps up his reelection campaign and global oil prices reach a six-month high.

In Modi’s India, opponents and journalists feel the squeeze ahead of election (AP) Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his government are increasingly wielding strong-arm tactics to subdue political opponents and critics of the ruling Hindu-nationalist party ahead of the nationwide elections that begin this week. A decade into power, and on the cusp of securing five more years, the Modi government is reversing India’s decadeslong commitment to multiparty democracy and secularism. The ruling Bharatiya Janata Party has brought corruption charges against many officials from its main rival, the Congress Party, but few convictions. Dozens of politicians from other opposition parties are under investigation or in jail. And just last month, Modi’s government froze the Congress party’s bank accounts for what it said was non-payment of taxes. Peaceful protests have been crushed with force. A once free and diverse press is threatened. Violence is on the rise against the Muslim minority. And the country’s judiciary increasingly aligns with the executive branch.

A new equation (Washington Post) With its first-ever direct military attack on Israel, Iran crossed old red lines and created a precedent in its decades-long shadow war with the Jewish state. Iran “decided to create a new equation,” said the head of Iran’s Revolutionary Guard, Maj. Gen. Hossein Salami, in an interview with state-run television Sunday. “From now on, if Israel attacks Iranian interests, figures and citizens anywhere, we will retaliate from Iran.” As a show of force, the attack was unprecedented in scope, but analysts said it was also carefully choreographed—giving Israel and its allies time to prepare, and providing the Israeli government a possible off-ramp amid fears of a widening war. The assault was designed with the knowledge that Israel’s “multi-layer systems would prevent most of the weapons from reaching a target,” said Sima Shine, head of the Iran program at the Institute for National Security Studies in Tel Aviv. “That outcome made space for Netanyahu and senior leaders to strike a more measured tone than they could if one of the missiles had taken out an apartment building or barracks.” Tehran has consistently signaled it has no desire for a head-on conflict. However, after an Israeli airstrike on a diplomatic compound in Damascus killed two Iranian generals this month, the country felt compelled to respond. Over the past few months, Israel has stepped up its strikes on Iranian interests across the region. The attack in Damascus was especially provocative because of its target—a diplomatic compound, traditionally exempted from hostilities—and because it killed two senior generals in Iran’s elite Revolutionary Guard Corps. There was a sense that “Iran’s passivity had encouraged Israel to push the envelope too far,” said Ali Vaez, the Iran project director for the International Crisis Group. Vaez said Iran’s rulers were under increasing pressure to respond to Israel directly.

Iran attack on Israel adds to airline troubles in Middle East (Reuters) Global airlines faced disruptions to flights on Monday after Iran’s missile and drone attacks on Israel further narrowed options for planes navigating between Europe and Asia. Iran’s attack on Israel by more than 300 missiles and drones, which were mostly shot down by Israel’s U.S.-backed missile defence system, caused chaos in the aviation industry. At least a dozen airlines have had to cancel or reroute flights over the last two days, including Qantas, Germany’s Lufthansa, United Airlines and Air India. This was the biggest single disruption to air travel since the attack on the World Trade Centre on September 11, 2001, according to Mark Zee, founder of OPSGROUP, which monitors airspace and airports.

Gazans trying to return to their homes in the north say Israeli troops fired on them. (NYT) As thousands of displaced Palestinians tried to return to their homes in northern Gaza on Sunday, Israeli troops fired at the crowd, forcing people to turn back in panic, according to an emergency worker and two people who tried to make the journey. Wafa, the Palestinian Authority’s official news agency, reported that five people were killed and 23 wounded by Israeli gunfire and artillery in the incident on Al-Rashid Street south of Gaza City as a crowd of Gazans headed north to their homes. For months, the Israeli military has barred Palestinians who have been displaced by the war in Gaza from returning to their homes in northern Gaza. It has become a sticking point in negotiations between Israel and Hamas.

Sudan marks grim anniversary of civil war in shadow of other conflicts (Washington Post) Exactly a year ago, Sudan’s ruinous collapse began. Tensions between two powerful rival factions that had already carved out fiefdoms in the country—the Sudanese Armed Forces, headed by Lt. Gen. Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF), headed by Gen. Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo—exploded into open war. Airstrikes hit civilian centers; militiamen and vigilantes set up checkpoints and looted neighborhoods. The capital, Khartoum, transformed into a sprawling battlefield. The conflict flared elsewhere in the African nation of close to 50 million people, including the already war-ravaged region of Darfur. Twelve months on, the humanitarian situation in Sudan is astonishingly grim. The country is the site of the world’s largest displacement crisis, with more than a fifth of its population forced out of their homes by the civil war, as well as earlier rounds of conflict. Nearly a third of the population is acutely food insecure, according to U.N. data. Some 19 million children are out of school; an estimated 3 million Sudanese children are malnourished. Yet the wars in Ukraine and Gaza—exacerbated furthermore by the recent escalation between Israel and Iran—have put Sudan’s tragedy in the shade.

Russian soldiers arrive in Niger as relationship with U.S. deteriorates (Washington Post) Russian military personnel arrived in Niger this week, according to Nigerien state television, less than one month after the military junta announced that it was ending military agreements with the United States. The arrival of the Russian men in military fatigues marked the first concrete step in a new security arrangement between Russia and Niger. State television identified them as “Russian military instructors,” and said they would be providing training and equipment to the Nigerien military.

#headlines #news

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imaginesandbandfiction · 3 years

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Harry Styles — Secret Little Rendezvous

Thank you guys so much for all the support on my last post! I have a ton of ideas so I'm hoping to post at least twice a week. Hope you like this one! xx

Masterlist

As the music editor of a popular magazine, you got to hang out with a lot of celebrities. You had started taking photos with each one mostly for yourself, and to send to your mom (She was thrilled with every single one, but the last time you visited home you saw the photo of you and Bon Jovi had been printed and framed). With every Instagram post, your following grew steadily, until your follower count screamed less “journalist” and more “influencer.”

It was during his press tour for Fine Line that you first met Harry Styles. Your reputation preceded you; a few of his crew members had been following you for a while, and when they found out that you were interviewing him they promptly scrolled through your entire Instagram with him, though you didn’t find that out until later.

The interview went great; it was filmed for the magazine’s YouTube channel, but you still jotted notes into your light blue mini moleskine, wanting to capture your observations to make the article more intimate and personal. Banter flew easily between the two of you, and two years of interviewing celebrities had emboldened you quickly, so you weren’t afraid to tease him and ask the hard questions that everyone wanted answers to. He was a good sport, and dished it right back to you, making fun of your midwestern accent and your celebrity obsessions.

After the interview, you started to tell him about your Instagram, preparing to ask him to take a picture, but he cut you off.

“I have an idea for the photo,” he said, catching you off guard. You stared at him, blinking in confusion. “Where’s the fashion closet?” After a quick glance at the production manager, who just shrugged and nodded his approval, you grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him out of the film studio.

“Come on,” you said, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you led him through the labyrinth-like hallways of the magazine’s office building.

“Sorry it’s so twisty,” you added, glancing over your shoulder at Harry, who looked amused. “This building is super old, and I think it used to be, like, 10 different apartments that they smushed together.”

“That’s New York real estate for you,” Harry joked, making you laugh.

“I’ve thought about just moving into my office, it’d save me a fortune each month and I wouldn’t even lose any square footage.” You chuckled nervously, self-conscious about mentioning your tiny studio apartment to Harry-fucking-Styles, of all people. “Anyways, here we are.”

You opened a door, leading Harry into the fashion department.

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed at your friend Imogen, one of the styling assistants, as you passed her on your way to the closet. She gave you a wide-eyed, open-mouthed stare, momentarily distracted from the fitting she was currently in the middle of.

“Here we are,” you said as you opened the closet door. “All yours.” You realized you were still holding Harry’s hand and blushed, quickly trying to drop it. He squeezed it before letting go, and your hand fell limply to your side.

He dug around until he found what he wanted. Two hats and two jackets. He put one of each on and placed the second hat on your head, handing you the jacket.

“So are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” you asked, slipping on the jacket. He shook his head, smiling shyly.

“Nope. It’s a surprise,” he said, grabbing your hand this time. “Come on, first one back wins!” He opened the door and led you out but dropped your hand as soon as you were out the door, taking off ahead of you.

“Hey, no fair!” You called after him, racing to catch up.

When you returned to the studio, you handed your phone to one of the production assistants. Harry directed the shot, recreating the iconic photo of Rick and Ilsa in Casablanca. It was intoxicating, standing so close to Harry, gazing into his eyes. They were greener up close, like the grass in spring. Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. After about a minute, you saw his lips curling up in the beginning stages of a smile and bit the inside of your lip to keep from laughing. It didn’t work, and soon the two of you were both cracking up.

Once you had calmed down, the PA handed your phone back to you with a wink. You scrolled through the shots, there were a few awkward-looking ones at first, but there were one or two that seemed perfect. As you scrolled to the end of your camera roll, you saw she had caught some candids of the two of you laughing. They made your heart flutter, and you quickly scrolled back to the more serious shots as Harry made his way over to you to peek over your shoulder.

“It looks good,” he said. “You have to put a black-and-white filter on it, when you post it.”

“Will do,” you replied, starting to put your phone in your pocket. Harry grabbed your wrist, stopping you midway.

“Wait,” he grabbed the phone out of your hands and started typing something. “I’m sending these to myself.”

You tried not to let your excitement show too much, not sure if this was a way to get your number or if he just really wanted a copy of the photo.

That night, before you posted the photo, your phone vibrated with a text.

Hey, it’s Harry.

You squealed and clicked on the notification to pull up the text conversation that you had been avoiding all day, sure he had immediately deleted it. But nope, there it was, and above his most recent message were the photos he had sent; the one that turned out the best, and then all three of your candids. Your heart skipped a beat as you texted back.

hi Harry

That kicked off a few months of texting, which turned into daily phone calls, before he flew out to New York to surprise you with a private dinner on the rooftop of the Ritz-Carlton for your birthday. The rest, as they say, is history.

Oh, and the photo you posted ended up getting over a million likes, skyrocketing your follower count, too.

***

It had been over two years, and though you had been as discreet as possible, people were starting to get suspicious. The only photos you had posted together were the official interview photos, recreating Sandy and Danny’s all-black ensembles from Grease, Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears’ iconic denim moment, and, most recently, the boat scene from The Notebook. That one had taken a dedicated photoshoot to capture, but it turned out incredible.

But apparently, when you recreate iconic couples' photos more than once, people start to catch on. Plus, although Harry had only been on tour for a month, you had flown out to six of his shows already. As a music editor, being at concerts wasn’t out of the ordinary, but usually, the magazine only sent you to the first show of an artist’s tour, and then the New York show, if there was one. Fans had been speculating about your relationship for a while, so you and Harry decided to make it public. After all, you were both itching to get out and explore the world together. You decided it would be fitting to do one final interview with Harry, before leaving your job to join him on tour.

That’s how you found yourself sitting across from Harry in the studio on October 2nd, 2021.

“So, Harry, thanks for joining me again,” you said, pressing your lips together to try and keep from laughing.

“Thanks for having me, Y/N,” he replied, his smile slightly too big for a press interview.

“I hear you’ve got not one, not two, but three sold-out shows at Madison Square Garden coming up. Congratulations, that’s quite the accomplishment.”

“Thank you, but it has nothing to do with me, really.” His eyes flickered down, bashfully. “It’s the fans, they’re the ones who made it happen. And my incredible crew, of course.” He let out a laugh. “I’m just the singing, dancing monkey.”

You chuckled before responding. “You’re slightly more talented than a monkey.”

The rest of the interview went pretty smoothly, and you asked some generic questions about the tour so far, letting Harry take up most of the time to share some stories from behind the scenes. As the producer motioned at you to wrap it up, you took back control of the situation.

“So there’s one final question that I haven’t asked you since our first interview two years ago,” you said, trying to sound mysterious. Harry folded his hands under his chin, leaning forward.

“Ask away,” he said, waiting patiently, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Is there anyone special in your life these days? It’s been a while since you’ve been seen with anyone and your fans are extremely curious.”

“Well, I’ve actually been with someone for the past two years. She’s incredible, and although I’ve loved having her all to myself, I think that’s been rather selfish of me and it’s about time I share her with the world.” You felt your cheeks heating up and tried to hide your smile.

“I’m so glad to hear that! I actually have some news myself, if I can interrupt?” You glanced over at Harry, who gave you an encouraging nod.

“This is actually the last interview I’m doing for Iconic Magazine,” you paused to take a breath. “I’ve absolutely loved my time here but after today, I will be starting my next adventure as a freelance writer. That way I will have more time to join my boyfriend on tour.” You looked into the camera and winked as you said the word boyfriend. Harry reached over to take your hand in his.

“That’s me, by the way, in case you didn’t get that,” he added as you laced your fingers through his. You wrapped up the interview by saying goodbye to everyone who had supported you throughout your career at Iconic, before turning back to Harry.

“Well Harry, thanks for coming,” you said,

“Funny, she said that to me last night, too,” he joked, a cheeky grin breaking out on his face. The entire crew busted out laughing. You reached across and slapped him playfully on the arm.

“Harry! You can’t say that! I’m at work!”

“It’s literally your last day!”

The interview ended and later the editing team faded it out slowly as the two of you bickered, reminiscent of an old 90’s sitcom. It was the perfect way to end your career at the magazine and kick off your new adventure.

Instead of some sort of posed photo, after the interview has been live for a few hours, you post a simple selfie of you and Harry from a few days ago in Chicago with the caption Introducing… Harry Styles, the boyfriend, not to be confused with Harry Styles, the celebrity.

That post blew all of your previous posts with Harry out of the water, and you were excited to begin a new chapter by his side.

494 notes · View notes

ohmyeyesmyeyes · 3 years

Note

hi, i just wanted to say i loved your charles oneshot :) i was wondering if you could do an enemies to lovers w/ daniel ricciardo? thanks!

DANIEL RICCIARDO ONESHOT

TEMPORARY STRANGERS

( WARNING: swearing, alcohol, blood/injury, little bit of fluff/angst? )

word count: 5.4k

< this is my attempted version lol >

You’d debated whether or not to go to Theo’s party. For one, it was on a Thursday night, which, in itself, was rather tragic for a party thrown for an adult because surely he had to have thought that most people would be working on a Thursday night? Secondly, you had an early shift at the hospital in the morning, so you weren't sure if staying at a party fit for Blair Waldorf for a couple of hours was entirely worth your presence.

But, after a persuasive conversation on the phone — in which Theo spent the majority of it begging you to make an appearance — you’d caved and now you found yourself standing in the middle of a kitchen sipping on a lemonade, expertly avoiding everyone’s eyes and wondering why you agreed to come in the first place.

The apartment was a large, luxurious one, decked from head to toe in pricey decorations and with an open-plan layout. You even had half the mind to compare it to what you imagined a Royal Palace looked like.

In other words, it was big and incredibly tasteful and fancy, in the most annoying way possible.

Then again, Theo did own a successful Estate Agency, which specialized heavily in selling buildings in the centre of London. The money pooled from that spoke for itself, and it also meant that since university he’d met people in all aspects of his work, all of which looked like they’d been invited to his party, which unfortunately meant you didn’t know anyone, and the couple that you did, you had absolutely zero intentions of actually talking to them.

The guests themselves were glamorous, dressed to the nines and decked with expensive watches and jewellery, and you felt out of place wearing your best dress with your favourite high-tops and a blazer.

On another note, the lemonade and food were delicious. It was almost as if he’d hired a private caterer and then shoved them out of the back door before people started arriving.

“You know, I didn’t think you meant it when you said you’d come.” A smooth voice knocked you out of your reverie, and you whirled around, hastily swallowing the lemonade when you noticed the familiar blonde that you’d befriended in uni.

“I didn’t think I did either if that makes a difference.” You replied, biting the inside of your cheek as Theo rolled his eyes, making his way around the kitchen island to place a couple of collected empty glasses near the sink.

“Well, are you having fun?” He asked, leaning back against the counter next to you, his shoulder judging yours teasingly.

You hummed, narrowing your eyes, “Not as much fun as when you crashed my Grandparents party and scared away the boy they tried to set me up with, let’s just leave it at that.” You breathed a laugh, swirling the lemonade in your cup as if it had suddenly become the most interesting thing.

“Oh, I haven’t had that much fun in ages.” He said, his attention turning to the other partygoers in the near vicinity, his eyebrow raising as he spotted someone trying to sneak one of his clocks into their bags without being caught. It didn’t work; they saw his gaze and turned a suspicious shade of red and pretended as if they’d simply been admiring the thing before walking away.

Theo cleared his throat, adjusting his tie.

“I think I’m just gonna…” he trailed off, his finger pointing in the direction of the culprit, an apologetic look in his eyes. You nodded, breathing a short laugh in understanding.

“I think I’m going to head out anyway—”

“Oh, please stay.” He held out a hand, silently begging for you to stay.

You hadn’t seen each other in at least a couple of months because of clashes with schedules, and it was getting to the point where the odd texts and phone calls and video calls were starting to feel more like a chore than a privilege. You had been close friends for the best part of ten years now, and you were still close, but adult life was more difficult than you expected trying to balance relationships and work.

You breathed in deeply, eyes flashing around the guests, accidentally catching the eye of Daniel and flicking your attention back to Theo hastily.

“I’ll stay for now but I’m going home in an hour, I have an early shift in the morning.” You promised, offering a small smile as Theo nodded, returning the gesture before disappearing into the throwing of people.

It wasn’t long before you were approached by an unfamiliar face. She was — like all the other people in the room — dressed nicely, and she stumbled slightly in her heels, almost running into you.

“Oh, shit, sorry about that.” She muttered, and you could smell the faint, bitter scent of alcohol on her breath, indicating that she wasn’t completely sober.

“Oh, it’s no problem.” You reassured, asking if she wanted something else to drink, seeing as though you were standing next to the drinks table and the fridge.

She shook her head, instead resuming Theo’s place against the counter next to you.

“Do you see that man over there?” She whispered, pointing her finger in the direction of the crowd out in the living area.

You furrowed your eyes, trying to lean slightly to make sure you could see who she was pointing at.

“I think you’re gonna have to be more specific because there’s about thirty people in that general direction.” You said, resisting the urge to laugh as the woman sighed, shuffling closer to the group and standing in her heeled tiptoes to see over the sea of heads.

“Okay, so he’s about 6 foot, brunette, curly hair…” she snuck a glance at you out of the corner of her eye to make sure you were trying to look out for the person she was talking about, “really fit and has an Italian nose.” She concluded.

You pursed your lips, suddenly feeling quite awkward in the presence of a stranger. You averted your eyes back to the pile of drinks on the kitchen island and halted your actions in searching for who could only be Daniel Ricciardo.

She noticed your reaction and gasped loudly, her hand flying to her mouth as if you just spilled the hottest gossip of the season.

“You know him.” She stated, stepping back slightly with an accusatory shine in her eyes.

“I don’t know him, I just know of him.” You lied, trying to brush the topic off as subtly as possible.

“Nuh-uh,” she said, taking your arm and ignoring the cry of protest from your lips as she dragged you away from the kitchen area and into the heart of the party, where the chatter was significantly louder, “I don’t believe that. You can introduce us.” She insisted.

You dug your heels into the floor as best as you could, trying to push away the wave of panic that surged through your veins.

“Lady,” you started, ripping your arm out of her iron grip, “I don’t know him.” You reiterated.

“If you don’t know him, how can you know of him?” She enquired snarkily, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow in your direction.

“How can you not know of him?” You returned, shrugging. Her face remained blank, and it occurred to you she really didn’t know who Daniel was. “That’s Daniel Ricciardo. Formula 1 driver for McLaren this year.” You told her, straightening out your blazer uncomfortably, unaware of the eyes on you from the other side of the room.

“Formula 1? So he’s, like…a millionaire?” She licked her lips,sultry eyes slipping over the crowd and fixating on who you assumed to be Daniel.

You cringed, resisting the urge to turn your nose up at her. You suddenly regretted telling her about his career because even a blind man could see that his money was the main thing on her mind at that moment in time.

You neglected from answering her question, instead trying to slink back to the kitchen, but you were interrupted by the scuffle of feet and the sound of something shattering before an obvious cry of pain was heard throughout the room, nearly drowned out in the volume of the music pumping from the speakers.

You swivelled back around, and several people had stepped away from the scene leaving an open gap in the crowd as more people gathered around to see what the kerfuffle was.

The girl had disappeared seemingly into thin air and you were about to take the moment of peace as an opportunity to leave, but Theo’s voice called your name over the crowd, laced with urgency.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, heart pounding with anxiety at the panic in his voice. You made your way to the crowd, apologising to people as you pushed your way through to get to the centre of all the attention.

As soon as you edged into Theo’s vision, he dragged you by the elbow into the centre, pointing to the person who’s cry of pain was heard over the music.

Blood was dripping from a deep gash in the palm of their hand, and the person in question looked a little pale, holding their hand up above their head, a permanent wince etched onto their face. Despite that, they looked rather uncomfortable with all the attention, and it was this that caused Theo to turn to the crowd and usher them away.

“I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.” Theo informed you, and you wasted no time in helping the injured person raise their arm higher above their head, guiding them through the crowd with a secure arm around their waist.

“A cut on my hand doesn’t hinder my ability to walk, okay?” They tried, shifting out of your grip.

“No, but if you pass out, it hinders my ability to patch you up.” You retorted, hurriedly passing your glass of lemonade back to Theo.

The person let a weak, sarcastic huff pass their lips, but they let you guide them to the bathroom, keeping an eye on the blood dripping down their arm and creeping into the sleeve of their blazer.

“Toilet or tub?” You asked, kicking the door shut behind you and casting a weary glance back at their hand.

“Depends on the context.” They answered.

You rolled your eyes, settling them on the toilet and quickly rifling through the sink cupboards, locating the first aid kit with ease.

“I’m gonna need you to take off your blazer.” You said, never imagining that you’d say those words to Daniel Ricciardo of all people.

Your relationship with Daniel was weird to say the least. You first met at — surprise, surprise — Theo’s party a few years ago. You’d gotten along swimmingly, perhaps a little bit too well, and it was safe to say he was incredibly charming and cursed with good looks. You were quite good friends, actually.

Until one day he pulled a face at you when you approached him at an award’s evening of some sort. You’d got no idea what happened to elicit such a negative reaction, or any idea on what you could have done, but he’d sneered at you and turned around, making conversation with the person next to you. He’d never explained why, but ever since that day he’d ignored you as much as possible, and it wasn’t exactly hard not to enjoy his company when he was so obviously disgusted with your presence.

Maybe it was the fact that you only managed to snag one piece of cake that night.

“You want a striptease? At least take me out for a date, first.” He muttered, pressing his lips together in obvious discomfort as he peeled his blazer off, being cautious of the blood. “I don’t even know why you’re bothering with this anyway, I’m fine.” He insisted.

You perched yourself on the edge of the bath, placing your bag on the tiled flooring and zipping open the first aid kit.

“Dan, you’re dripping blood…you’re clearly not fine.” You muttered, carefully rolling his shirt sleeve up past his elbow, ignoring the fact that this was the first time in a long time you’d been this close to him. Ignoring the fact that he looked positively fine in a suit, minus the blood.

He let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes and shifting uncomfortably under your touch.

You turned his hand over, assessed the gash and winced, trying to ignore the tingling, uncomfortable sensation mirrored on your own palm as your eyes ran over the gash. It ran the width of his palm, and it didn’t take a genius to notice that it was quite deep in some places.

“Can we please be quick?” He sighed, his other hand smoothing out non-existent creases in his dress trousers.

You hated to admit it, but his words stung.

“Can you at least pretend like you don’t hate me, for fifteen minutes at least?” You said, an unintentional fierceness to your tone, one that you’d tried your best to dial down in his presence, but it seemed to no avail.

“Only if you do the same.” He muttered, and you took the liberty of ignoring his comment, reaching to fish an antiseptic wipe from the first aid kit, gently dabbing at the edges to clean off some blood so you could see the extent of the damage. You flexed his hand, ignoring his hiss of pain as the cut stretched slightly.

“What was that for?” He asked, his free hand slapping your hand as he fought to take his cut up hand out of your grip.

You opened your mouth in surprise, the skin on your own hand stinging slightly with the sudden contact.

“Don’t slap me! I’m trying to make sure you don’t have glass in it, you twat.” You said, shaking your head, “Which it doesn’t, by the way, so you’re welcome for checking.”

“How did you even know to check for glass?”

“Because there was broken glass on the floor?” You answered, applying pressure to the wound and lifting his hand a little higher again.

He huffed, turning his face away from you, so he was facing the wall, his lip curling into a sneer.

You rolled your eyes, “What did you mean when you said ‘only if you do the same’, anyway?” You murmured, keeping one hand on the wound and reaching to the floor to pick up your bag and unclip the front.

He narrowed his eyes, watching you root around in your bag for something, and he was about to say something, before he was interrupted by a knock on the bathroom door.

“Everything ok in there? Everyone still alive?” Theo’s muffled voice echoed into the room.

“We’re fine.”

“Yeah.”

Daniel grimaced, brown eyes burning through the door as if he was trying to send a telepathic message to Theo through the door.

“Good.” Was all Theo said before the full sound of his shoes against the wooden veneers could be heard on the other side of the door.

You hummed in delight, producing the very thing you were originally looking for in your bag.

“Haribo?” Daniel asked, raising his brows expectantly.

“To get your blood sugar levels up, you’re still pale.” You answered, ripping open the packet, and just as you were about to pour the sweets into Daniel’s outstretched hand, you paused, recoiling.

“What?” He asked, noticeably frustrated that he wasn’t scoffing the sweets.

“Why don’t you like me?” You questioned, biting on the inside of your cheek anxiously as he stared straight at you, his face expressionless.

He was quiet for a while, and you almost told him to forget you even said anything because the simple question looked like it hit home, but he opened his mouth, quickly closing it again. He looked at you from behind furrowed brows, apparently confused by your question.

“Why don’t I like you?” He repeated the question. “Why don’t you like me?”

You gaped at him, your cheeks flushing with irritation at his words.

“I don’t—I never—” you sighed in frustration, the hand clutching the packet of Haribo clenching unconsciously as Daniel looked at you with mild concern, “Why the hell would you think I don’t like you?”

He blinked, casting his sights back to the wall, ignoring your eye contact.

“Theo told me you, and I quote, ‘hate me’,” he answered, swallowing roughly as you continued to stare at him.

His discomfort under your gaze brought a sick sense of satisfaction, but at the same time you were having difficulty wrapping your head around what he’d just admitted.

“Theo? My Theo?” You clarified, arching an eyebrow.

He nodded.

“When did he tell you that?” Your heart was starting to hammer in your rib cage, the power of which was almost painful to endure.

“When we went clubbing a while back,” he shrugged.

“Why would he—?” You muttered, before turning back to Daniel. “Are you sure he said that?”

“Positive.”

“So you’ve been so hostile towards me for months now, all because of something someone else said to you in a dark, loud club when you were — let’s face it — probably drunk?”

Daniel sucked in his cheeks, now realising how there would have been so many chances for misunderstanding in such an environment.

“Yes…” he replied, dragging the word out slowly, trying his best to take his mind off the way your grip on his wound was slowly increasing.

“I never said I hate—”

“So…you don’t not like me?” He interrupted, his eyes wide.

“No…Yes…I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer that, but I never hated you.” You said, ducking your head down at his intense glare, instead turning your attention back to his bleeding hand, carefully peeling off the gauze to take a peak. You suddenly remembered the scrunched up packet of Haribo still clutched in your grasp, and you shoved it in Daniel’s direction, not bothering to even look at him when he took it, humming quietly in thanks.

He didn’t know how to respond to that, the revelation sending his mind spinning about a hundred different directions.

He was mad at Theo, even if what happened wasn’t entirely his fault, but he was mostly mad at himself for not even bothering to try to talk to you and hash it out. The months he spent trying to ignore you were completely miserable, and the worst part is, he put you through hell without even giving you any reason, and all of that ignorance was not even worth it…that is, if what you said was true.

“Oh.” Was all he said, taking to watching you strap up his hand after telling him he (thankfully) didn’t need stitches, but he did need to rest it for a while, which was probably for the best because the F1 Summer Break was currently in full swing.

Once you’d put the soaked gauze in the bin and tidied everything away to how you’d arrived before the bloodbath ensued, you stood up, brushing nonexistent dirt off your dress, and offered Daniel a rather confused smile.

He bit his lip in thought, your eyes unconsciously zipping to his mouth, before steering your gaze back up to his eyes when he caught you, raising his eyebrow slightly, a pale shade of pink tinting his cheeks as he fought back a smirk.

You turned away, looking at the door, which was very much tempting you at that moment in time.

He cleared his throat once he’d noticed your attention flicker away from him, and it was only then he registered he practically craved you to be looking at him. Whenever he was at functions with Theo, he would always unknowingly search for you, even when he thought you hated his guts, he’d still scan the crowd of unfamiliar faces in the hopes that he’d see you again.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously, feeling your eyes on him. It was as if he’d suddenly melted into a teenager again right beneath your eyes. He cleared his throat again, sinking back against the toilet in an attempt to make himself smaller at the revelation he’d just arrived at.

It was weird, seeing him so shy when he was naturally such an outgoing character.

You found a part of your brain secretly admiring his flustering, but you quickly shut that down, reminding yourself that you shouldn’t be having those thoughts, especially since you’d just had to mop up a slice on his hand.

“I think I’m gonna go grab a drink and join the fray.” You said, hating the way your voice sounded so small against the echoing walls of the bathroom tiles.

Daniel snapped his eyes to yours, holding them intently, slightly alarmed at your words.

The last thing he wanted was for you to leave him; call it soppy, but he wanted to make up for lost time as soon as he possibly could, and he knew there would be very few opportunities considering both your careers were so demanding.

“Um…” he cleared his throat, “Yeah, I just want to say, thanks for all of this.” He gestured down to his hand, and you smiled.

“No problem. Just…stay away from broken glass for a bit and you should be fine.” You mumbled, words not registering in your brain as Daniel breathed a small laugh, looking utterly starstruck and sad at the same time.

“I’ll try my best.”

You offered one last smile, checking you still had your bag, and without another word you slipped out of the bathroom door, hearing the handle click behind you.

You could still hear the thumping remnants of the party in the next room, and without really caring who you bumped into along the way, you made a beeline for the kitchen, filling up a plastic wine glass with the nearest spirit and downing it as quickly as possible. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, immediately feeling guilty because of the early shift, and hurried to fill the glass back up with water, trying your best to dispel the effects of alcohol before they even had an impact.

It seemed to work.

Your head was spinning, unrelated to the liquids you’d just absorbed, but because of the bathroom fiasco that had just occurred only moments prior.

You were that caught up in your own thoughts, trying to separate fact from fiction and thought from feeling, that you completely missed the very brunette on your mind stride past the kitchen and into the living area, looking like a man on a mission as he tried to seek out Theo.

It didn’t take him long, he just had significantly more trouble trying to shake off a blonde that refused to let go of his arm, and he found Theo leant against a table, looking worn out, his mind absent from reality.

In the time it took for you to patch Daniel up, it looked as if Theo had faced a war and somehow escaped.

“You okay?” Daniel asked, hand clapping into Theo’s shoulder in an attempt to bring him back to reality.

He jumped, immediately relaxing when he registered just who was standing in front of him.

“I’m fine, but if that…person over there takes another step towards my Grandma, he’s not going to know what hit him.” He answered, finger pointing at a rather suspicious looking man.

“I don’t see a Grandma anywhere.” Daniel pointed out, slightly concerned.

Theo rolled his eyes, as if he’d had to answer the question a million times already, “She’s the purple one on the mantelpiece.” He muttered, taking a swig of whatever was in his glass.

Daniel nodded, feeling guilty for even bringing up the topic, but the completely detached behaviour from Theo was giving him a hard time in focusing on what he actually came over to do.

“Sorry about that, mate.” He apologised, breathing in deeply.

Theo shrugged.

“Anyway, does Y/N still have the same phone number or did she change it?” Daniel questioned, attempting to pretend like the question wasn’t that big of a deal by shrugging and avoiding making eye contact with Theo, but the raise of the eyebrow and curious, piercing blue stare proved that his attempt was futile.

“I knew you still liked her.” Theo chuckled.

“Am I that transparent?” Daniel quipped, pressing his lips together in a tight line.

“Only for me.” Theo grinned, patting Daniel’s cheek.

Daniel pulled a face, swiping Theo’s hand away.

“But no, she’s still got the same number. Why’d you ask?”

Daniel shrugged, already backing away, attention flickering around the room, once again searching for something — the action of which didn’t go unnoticed by Theo, who positively cackled inside, “Just curious.”

“If curious means ‘I-fucked-up-with-a-really-good-person-big-time-and-I-need-to-make-it-up-somehow-before-I-ask-her-out-for-real-this-time-instead-of-practicing-it-in-the-mirror’, then, whatever you say.”

“That was ages ago!”

“People don’t forget!” Theo yelled, smirking in triumph as Dan disappeared around the corner, no doubt searching for you.

You were sitting on the cold, stone steps outside the apartment building, your phone in your hand and debating whether or not to call a taxi or walk home before it gets too dark.

Your thumb was hovering over the call button to your local taxi when the building doors slammed open, the sound of shoes slapping against the concrete as a tall figure leapt down the last three steps, running a hand through their curls in frustration as they looked left, then right, and sighed, reaching into their jacket pocket to produce their phone.

You couldn’t see their face, only the back of their head, but you’d recognise that figure anywhere.

You looked down, your heart stuttering at the sudden buzzing of the phone in your hand.

You narrowed your eyes, resisting the urge to laugh at the hilarity of the situation, and answered the call, lifting the phone up to your ear, your eyes fixated on the pacing figure on the pavement, watching him from your spot at the top corner of the stairs.

“Hello?” The person asked, sounding a bit breathless through the phone.

“Hi.”

“It’s Daniel...Ricciardo.” He winced at his own awkwardness.

“I know. You’re still saved in my contacts.”

“I am?” He replied, tone laced with shock.

You were almost embarrassed to admit that you’d held onto a little shred of hope in thinking he’d eventually get over himself, “You had a paddy with me, remember?”

“About that, I’m really sorry. Like, really, really, really,really, really—”

“I get the idea.” You sighed.

“No, I don’t think you understand how sorry I am for it. It was so insanely stupid of me to stop talking to you because of something I thought I heard in a club — a fucking club of all places — without even thinking of talking to you—”

“Why didn't you talk to me?”

He was silent for a while, and you noticed he’d halted his pacing on the pavement. “I know it sounds like I’m making up excuses, but I really thought you hated my guts, and that...it hurt because I kind of had a bit of a crush on you and I pushed you away because I think a subconscious part of my mind thought that if I did that then it would be better in the long run because I wouldn’t be so attached to you if something went weird later on.” He explained, his voice lowering and quieting towards the end, as if he’d just understood what he didn’t understand.

“That’s...a lot to unpack.” You murmured, noticing the way his shoulders had slumped.

“Yeah...we don’t have to do it right now, though.”

“No, I agree, I think we’d need a nicer place to sort though our emotional struggles than outside Theo’s apartment building.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit weird — what?” He caught himself, spinning around on his heels.

You offered a shy wave once he’d tilted his head in your direction, realising you’d been watching him talk to you the entire time.

“I was looking for you.” He said once he’d hung up the phone, meeting you halfway on the steps.

“Why?”

“Can I walk you home?” He resorted to asking.

_____

The journey home took about twice as long as it usually would, and by the time you’d both made it onto your street, night was beginning to creep through, the sky changing to a darker blue, street lamps beginning to turn on.

The conversation flowed remarkably easily, albeit there was a noticeable hesitance in dancing around that subject, but you pretended not to notice it, and you had a feeling Daniel was trying to do the same.

He kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, almost disbelieving of that fact that you were in front of him, even after what he’d put you through, and he had to keep catching himself to ensure you didn’t notice him looking.

You did.

“So, how are you feeling about going back after the Summer Break?”

He stifled a smile, “I don’t know why, but I have a really good feeling about going back. You know what? It has to be those Haribo’s.” He breathed a laugh.

“What? I hand out magic Haribo?” You smirked, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Yep.”

“No.”

“You say that now, but you’ll take it back when I get a podium.”

“When you do win, just don’t go around telling everyone about my magic Haribo.”

“Oh, the Haribo are reserved for me and for me only. It won’t have the same effect if you give some to Lando.”

“I’ll just take your word for it, I guess.”

You breathed a laugh, coming to a halt on the pavement, the familiar house standing to your left.

Daniel looked up.

“I thought you had a Fiesta?” He asked, pointing to the blue Hyaundi parked on the driveway.

“I’m sorry, is my car not up to the standard you’re used to?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow teasingly in his direction.

“Oi, I’ll have you know that I learnt to drive in a — I can’t even remember what model it was, but I do remember having to really press down on the brake…and the air con was broken.” He defended, throwing his hands up as if to say he was surrendering.

You bit your lip, “I learnt to drive in a Mercedes.”

His reaction was priceless.

“A Mercedes? You learnt to drive in a—wow.”

“It was just the company car, I didn’t really have a choice.”

“Still…wow.” He paused, feet tapping the pavement agitatedly, “I have a proposal.”

You met his eyes, unable to help feeling slightly anxious by the prospect.

“Go on.” You encouraged, crossing your arms tightly.

“If I win a GP…wait—can we make a deal?” He asked, throwing his hand out.

You nodded.

“If I win a GP, I get to take you on a date.” He offered, raising one eyebrow but somehow maintaining eye contact.

“But…what’s in it for me?” You smirked.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “That’s so rude…but, okay…I take you to Monza, and if—when I win a GP, I get to take you out. For my own sake, I’m gonna pretend like I will win one because I don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t.”

“You’ll win one.” You stated simply, shrugging.

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Because you’re Daniel Ricciardo, when have you ever not been successful in a car?” You asked, pulling a face as if it was obvious from the get-go.

Daniel didn’t say anything after that. He just sort of looked at you, twisting his mouth up in thought. You couldn’t tell what was going through his mind at that moment in time, but you had a sneaking suspicion he was trying to believe your words.

“You really believe that?” He finally said, a hint of what sounded like insecurity laced in his tone.

“You don’t?” You shot back, your heart breaking slightly at his demeanour.

“I never left.” He mumbled under his breath, turning away from you slightly with furrowed brows, seemingly having a conversation with himself.

You knew those words would stick around in your mind for a long time.

But there was something so addictive about ‘Daniel Ricciardo wins the 2021 Italian Grand Prix’.

#daniel ricciardo #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #driver x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo oneshot #mclaren #daniel ricciardo x reader #enemies to lovers #f1 fanfiction #fluff #angst

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runnning-outof-time · 3 years

Text

To Be Alone | Tommy Shelby x OC | Chapter 19

Masterlist

Next Chapter

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: It takes a traumatic experience for Lizzie to have a change of heart on her opinion of Celia, and luckily, Tommy’s there to stop Celia from spiraling as she comes to grips with what she’s done. A phone call gets in the way of her finding out what happened that night he didn’t return home.

Warnings: smoking, language, weapons, assault, murder, minor character death

Word Count: 3228

A/N: this one’s a bit intense. I tried to keep the descriptions of the actual act brief and focus more on the fallout of it. Enjoy!

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

———

"Are we all here now?" Tommy questioned as Arthur walked into the main room of the betting shop. He had called a family meeting to talk about the recent moves within the business.

Family meetings always stressed Celia out. Why? Well because at family meetings, there was always that chance that things would get out of hand. Even though she knew now that her parents were in a much better place being back in America and all, she still panicked when tensions between people rose to the point where they were flat out yelling in each other's faces. They were also tough for her because Lizzie was always in attendance. The two women were still not on nice terms with each other.

A chorus of 'yes's' gave Tommy the signal to keep talking. "Right, so Arthur, you will be going to meet with Alfie Solomons to discuss how things are going in Camden Town. Business should be alright, and the Black Country Boys are doing what they can, but Alfie has still requested to meet," he had just started off and already there was an objection.

"Why me, Tom?" Arthur questioned, more out of curiosity than anything.

"Because he and I are at a standstill, and I know you won't be pushed around," Tommy responded, making Arthur nod, his chest puffing out slightly from the confidence he had just gained. Celia didn't miss the furrowed brow expression that John gave to Tommy, and what made her chuckle was that Tommy also noticed it but said nothing to his younger brother. "We are going to have some of our lower level men be taken in and arrested by the cops so that they can get their numbers up, but also so that we will have people on the inside. It has been said that one of Sabini's men is currently behind bars. Having some of ours in there can elicit more information on the moves that he is going to make before he makes them," Tommy paused to listen for any objections before carrying on, "I have heard good things from May Carleton, that the horse is getting closer to being ready for the derby that is quickly approaching..."

Tommy continued talking but Celia wasn't listening after he mentioned May. She wasn't able to speak with him about how his night at her estate went down because in the week and a half since he had returned, they were like two ships in the night, barely having time for each other. This didn't help to quell Celia's thoughts, the words Lizzie told her that night filling her head almost constantly.

"Are there any questions on what I just said?" Celia turned back into his monologue just as he was ending it. No one spoke up, so he continued once more. "How are the earnings looking, Pol?" he asked his aunt then.

"They've been up," Polly answered with a smile and a nod.

"Good to hear. Esme, how have you been feeling?" he then asked the woman who was sitting next to her husband, her hands resting atop her baby bump that was starting to protrude now.

"Just fine, Tom," she smiled at him, just hearing this made Celia smile. At times she wondered if she was more excited for this baby than Esme was.

"Any other orders of business to be had?" Tommy asked once more, "Michael...Arthur...John...ladies?" he named off his brothers and cousin before looking at the women, all of them shaking their heads. "Right then, consider this meeting finished. I'll be in my office," Tommy stated, placing the cigarette he was smoking back in between his lips before he moved to where his office was located.

One by one the family members filed out of the betting shop, save for Polly and Celia, who decided that they would stick around to balance some of the books after today's bets. As they were working, they saw Lizzie walk out from the offices with the intent of leaving for the night. "Bye, Lizzie," Celia called after her, trying so hard to bury the hatchet, but Lizzie ignored her. Celia just sighed and continued with what she was doing.

"I have to show this transaction to Thomas. Something doesn't look right here," Polly stated then, standing from the chair she was sitting on before she grabbed the book and started to walk in the direction of Tommy's office.

Celia continued to work on the books, tapping the pencil she was using against her forehead as she tried hard to compute the numbers in front of her, her mind not wanting to cooperate with her. She was so focused that she almost didn't hear the screaming coming from a woman outside. Then she listened in and there was silence. Maybe it was nothing, she thought, going back to her work. But then she heard it again, and this woman sounded like she was in pain. This made Celia stand from her chair and go running into the street, hoping the woman would make a sound again and that she could find her. She didn't need that however, because when she looked to the left, she saw two figures engaged in a struggle, and they were moving in the direction of one of the many alleyways the city had. Damn Birmingham and its alleyways. The woman was now screaming for help, and as Celia approached the scuffle, she could see that the woman was actually Lizzie Stark, and a man was holding her against him, his arm wrapped around her throat.

"Let her go!" Celia screamed, not slowing her stride as she reached down into her stocking where she now carried a small blade with her at all times. Tommy had actually given it to her after the night the person tried to rob her, telling her that it would come in handy in keeping her safe when he wasn't with her. She would have laughed if someone told her that the first time she'd be using it would be to save Lizzie Stark, the person she probably despised the most in this city.

"Get the fuck..." was all the man was able to say before his voice cut out from Celia wielding the knife and plunging it into the first area of his body she was able to, which so happened to be his neck. The man went limp and Celia shrieked at the fact that she had just acted in such a way, but her attention quickly went to Lizzie, who had fallen down with the man and was now sobbing on top of his body.

"Come on, Lizzie," Celia stated softly, extending her arms in order to help her up. The woman on the ground took hold of her outstretched hands and allowed for Celia to pull her up, finally now putting their past tribulations behind her. "Let's get you somewhere safe," Celia told her, wrapping her arm around the woman's body in a protective manner. Lizzie was slumped over as she limped with Celia back to the betting shop. Her hands being full, she used her shoulder to open the door and when it hit the wall behind it, Polly jumped up out of surprise. "Get Tommy please, Pol. Lizzie's been attacked. She's hurt," Celia barely got out, trying to catch her breath as she brought Lizzie over to one of the chairs around the table. Lizzie slumped down once she was sitting. Her clothes were torn, there were small bruises covering her face, and her nose was bleeding. She was shaking, partially from the coldness of the outside, and partially from what she had just gone through.

Soon enough, Tommy burst through the doors onto the betting floor, a frantic look in his eyes, Polly following close behind him. "What's happened? Where did you find her? Are you alright, Lizzie?" he showered questions on the women who looked like they'd just gone to war. Celia, although she wasn't injured, still looked pretty disheveled from having to help Lizzie back to the shop.

"I heard her screaming so I went outside and saw her being pulled to an alleyway by a man," Celia explained, Lizzie then chiming in breathlessly to tell him she was alright. Polly had already begun assessing her injuries, concluding that she only had surface level bruising and that nothing else major was wrong with her. There was a collective sigh of relief at that.

"Ok. I'll get some men to go out and get the bastard that did this," Tommy stated through gritted teeth, obviously angry that a woman who worked for him had been assaulted, practically right outside his betting shop nonetheless. Celia managed to grab his forearm before he could get too far, making him turn around to look at her. "What?" he questioned, the word coming out a little bit harsher than he intended, but his emotions were running high now. Revenge was the only thing on his mind.

"You're not going to need to be sending anyone out, Tommy," Celia spoke, her voice low as she tried to keep herself calm.

"Why not?" Tommy asked, eyeing her carefully with furrowed eyebrows. He was confused as to why she didn't want this man to be hunted down and killed for what he had just done.

"Because I'm pretty sure he's already dead," Celia dropped the bomb, the entire room becoming so quiet that she probably could hear a pin drop. Her heart was beating so loud in her ears right now, and she hated it. "I...I used the knife you gave me, Tommy," she sputtered out then, coming to the realization of what she had actually done. She felt like breaking down, she had just killed a man, but she knew that now wasn't the time for her to try and command the full attention in the room. Lizzie was still sitting feet away from her, completely bruised up and broken from just being in an attempted kidnapping and possible murder for all she knew.

Tommy's eyes widened slightly as he put together her words, knowing that he also had to stay calm now. That him acting animatedly would probably scare her more. "Ok. Well.." he trailed off, clearing his throat as he tried to think up a gameplan on the fly, "I'll have some men retrieve the uh...the body and then dispose of it," he said then, choosing his words carefully so he didn't add more panic on to Celia's plate. He could already see how she was dealing with this. Celia nodded along with his words, trying to dissociate herself from the whole thing.

The room fell quite then as Polly finished up with putting some type of gel on the cut Lizzie had on her jaw. Then Lizzie decided to speak up, "thank you, Celia. You saved my life out there," she said, sincerity in each of her words.

Celia sent her a smile then, still internally trying to calm down and stop the panic attack that was trying to take her over. "You're welcome, Lizzie. I'm just happy I got there in time," she spoke as sincerely as the other woman did.

"What was between us is water under the bridge now. I know your intentions," Lizzie spoke then, shocking Celia slightly. She guessed that it took a near-death experience for Lizzie to come to grips that she didn't mean anyone any harm and that her presence didn't warrant any harsh feelings. That she was actually good for Tommy - Lizzie herself had begun seeing it in the smaller things he was doing. She just didn't want to admit it.

"Thank you," it was now Celia's turn to thank her, "it already was for me," she added then, no malice in her words. Tommy looked between the women as they spoke to each other, confusion on his face. He decided that it was better to let it be than to delve into what they had previously disagreed about. He had an inkling of what it possibly could have been, and he was happy that the air had been cleared between them now.

"Would you like me to take you home, Lizzie?" Polly offered then, looking at the dark haired woman who was sitting on the chair.

"Yes, thank you, Polly," Lizzie nodded, a small smile on her features. The older woman helped her up then, a comforting arm around her as she walked her to the door.

"I'll make sure that I get a new knife for you, Celia," Polly grinned in her direction then, and Celia remembered that she, too, kept one in her garters for these very problems. Celia tried to respond, but her mind wouldn't let her. Luckily, Polly's statement wasn't really one that warranted a response.

Just as they were going to say their goodbyes, Celia felt something shift inside of her. She knew then that the floodgates were about to open. "Excuse me for a moment," she barely got out before she was practically running past Tommy into his office and over to the table set against the wall, where she knew he kept his bottles of liquor. She poured herself a full glass and drank it down, cursing to herself when it didn't immediately stop her shaking hands. Of course it wouldn't kick in right away. She then poured another glass and was in the middle of tipping it back when she heard Tommy's footsteps approaching her. She willed herself to put the decanter back onto the glass tray as he entered his office, his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes fell onto her.

"Are you ok, love?" he questioned, slowly moving closer to her in hopes that he wouldn't startle her because at the moment she looked very on edge.

"I just...I just killed a man, Tommy," she breathed out, setting the glass next to the decanter before she looked at her shaking hands.

Tommy took her shaky response as his ok to move even closer to her so that he was able to wrap her into his arms. "It's ok, love. You saved someone."

"But I killed him. I stabbed him...in the side of his neck. He choked...fell to the floor and went limp. I went to help Lizzie but he didn't make another sound and just...laid there," she stammered out, still shaking in his arms as she tried to recall what had just happened. That man was probably still laying there right now. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to picture it.

"You did the right thing," Tommy told her, pressing his lips to the side of her head. He held her tightly then, not speaking until she decided to, hoping that the quietness in the room would help to calm her down.

"There's still goodness in me, right, Tommy?" she asked then, her voice coming out in a broken whisper.

"Yes, Celia. There is so much goodness in you. You just saved a woman who was fearing for her life...a woman that you didn't necessarily like, might I add," he trailed off as she moved in his arms so that her head was now pressed against his chest.

"I still have goodness in me," Celia said, moreso to herself than Tommy, but Tommy nodded along with her.

"You're just coming off of the adrenaline, love," he assured her, his hands rubbing comforting circles on her back. "You're gonna be ok."

"I just killed a man, Tommy," she breathed again, her tears soaking through the material of his shirt.

"I know," he said quietly. "I remember the first time I killed a man..." he trailed off after a few moments of silence. Celia kept her head in his chest, but she was listening now. "During the war. He was part of the company that was making a charge on ours. I shot him. Watched as he fell...the life left his eyes, and something in me changed. Like a piece of me had died with him," he paused, clearing his throat as Celia finally lifted her head to look at him, her eyes immediately meeting his. "It doesn't get easier. I still acknowledge the bodies that pile up, that have been piling up since that first man, but I've become numb to it now - numb to the act of it." Celia felt like an idiot now, blubbering about this to a man who has probably killed more people than he could remember, but hearing how he reacted to it at first made her feel better. "You still have goodness in you, Celia. Please don't let yourself think that you don't," he told her then, his hands now pressed against her cheeks as he searched her eyes.

"Thank you, Tommy," she breathed, closing her eyes as he pressed his lips to her forehead. She then let him lead her out of the office and to his house, which was on the other side of the betting shop's doors. They sat on the couch in front of the fire, Celia placed her head on Tommy's shoulder while he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. For a moment, she contemplated asking him for one, but she didn't want to risk possibly falling into the habit of always needing one just because her nerves were frazzled this one time. "You said that things are at a standstill with business in Camden Town?" she attempted to make conversation after they had been sitting silently for a few minutes. She had felt like she was calm enough to finally hold a conversation with him now.

"Let's not talk about business tonight, love," Tommy waved her question off, his eyes focused on the fire as he spoke. Celia sighed and accepted the silence that fell between them once more as she tried to think of something else to say.

"How about that night you spent at May Carleton's? You haven't told me about that," she tried with a new topic, waiting intently to hear what his answer would be.

Just as he was about to speak, the phone in the office began ringing. Tommy sighed as he stood from the couch, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray before he moved to the doors that separated the home from the betting shop. "I need to get this call. It's probably Alfie," he told her, not giving her a chance to disagree before he opened the doors and disappeared into the betting shop. Celia sighed at the feeling of being alone once more. She was just about to have her worries quelled with him telling her how that night went. Now she didn't know when she would be able to bring that topic up again.

So Celia sat on the couch and stared at the fire until ten p.m. turned into midnight, when she finally decided that Tommy probably wasn't going to be done with the call any time soon. She could still hear him practically yelling orders into the phone as she stood from the couch and climbed the steps to Tommy's bedroom. There, she stripped from her clothing and grabbed a shirt from Tommy's wardrobe, slipping it over her shoulders and buttoning it up before she turned off the light and slipped under the covers, going to sleep for the night.

———

Tagged: @mootiemoose @theshelbyclan @alreadybroken-ts @cloudofdisney @stevie75 @honey-im-hotdog @kagome1414 @epicwaterlemon @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #peaky blinders #peakyxtommy #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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dollslayer · 3 years

Text

Botanical Interest - For Luck

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x Florist!Reader

Summary: Steve introduces you to some of the most important people in his life, but are you ready for all that comes with it?

W/C: 4,743

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, gambling

A/N: When I saw @redhead-wine-and-literature-club was doing a floral based challenge I couldn't pass up the opportunity to add to this series! April 28th - Cornflower - good-luck charm. Even though this is part of a series of oneshots it can be read as a standalone! If you like it please like/reblog/comment and check out my other fics! Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

The sunlight through the windows warms your skin while the breeze of the small fan on the counter gives you goosebumps. Dog days of Summer slowly set in over the city and with them came a slight dip in business. No one wants a rooftop wedding when it’s 100 degrees out and the drinks are watered down with sweat. You didn’t mind though, it let you put in a little extra time and care to the orders you did have.

You picked up a stem of cornflower and nestled it between snapdragons and lisianthus. It was so dreamy you couldn’t help but sigh, you almost wished it was for yourself. It was for an elopement, an eager young couple came in this morning all smiles asking if you could take the last minute order. Feeling a little sappy from your own relationship you couldn’t turn them down.

You started in on the boutonniere when the music you had on was paused. Curious, you looked at your phone to find you had an incoming call. You balanced the phone in between your shoulder and ear as you gathered supplies.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Doll. How are you?” Steve’s warm voice greeted you.

You smiled into the receiver. “I’m good, just working on the last order of the day. What are you up to?”

“Well actually that’s what I called to ask you. You free tonight?”

“You can meet me at the shop in an hour. Sound good?” You promised.

“Sounds like a plan. I love you, doll, I’ll see you soon.”

After returning his affections you hung up and set to work, excited to be finished and see Steve. Despite his involvement with the mob, which neither of you had really addressed head-on yet, things were going really well. Even though he was involved with murky dealings he was sweet to you and you were in love with him. You tried to plan your night with Steve in your head as you worked.

____

The ringing of a bell roused you from your work, expecting to see the young couple here to pick up their flowers. You were instead face to face with Steve’s handsome smirk and playful eyes. Your smile grew wider as he approached the counter. You held the boutonniere up to the lapel of his jacket and eyed it from a distance.

“Do I have a hot date I didn’t know about?” He joked.

“No!” You giggled, “The flowers are for a couple that came in the shop this morning, they’re going to elope and the groom’s got your complexion, thought I’d see how this looks on you before I finish”

“Oh? And how do I look as a groom?” He questioned.

Your cheeks heated instantly and you felt shy. You managed to squeak out that he looked nice before you had to turn away to box up the flowers. You couldn’t help the stupid smile on your face. You and Steve never talked about marriage before but things were getting serious between you. Maybe he just felt extra cheeky today.

“I like the blue, very colorful”

“They’re cornflowers, they’re a good luck charm! I figured they were fitting for their little wedding. So what did you have in mind for tonight? It’s too hot to sit on the patio but I’ve got a pint of ice cream with our names on it in the freezer at home” You raised your eyebrows in offer.

“Well actually, I was hoping you could be my good luck charm tonight. Bucky’s got a few of us getting together tonight for poker and you’ve yet to meet my friends. What do you say?”

Oh. You weren’t sure what to say. You hadn’t met his friends yet because you were uncomfortable with his mob work and you knew they were involved. But you also knew they were his friends and they were important to him. It’s not like you could avoid them forever. Poker with a mob boss? Sure why not?

You put on a slightly uneasy smile and nodded.

“Well I have to tell you, I haven’t played in forever but I would love to meet your friends” You told him.

“I promise, no shop talk. But I’ve been telling them about you. Buck’s wife Natasha has been dying to meet you. I also promise not to make you play poker.” He said with an easy grin.

“Alright, I just have to wait on this couple to pick up their flowers and close up. Shouldn’t be more than 20 minutes. You can wait here if you want but I’ve got no A/C”

Steve nodded and took off his jacket. He rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie.

“For you? I’ll sweat it out.” He said.

____

After a quick pit stop at your place to change you were on your way. You smiled in the passenger’s seat, still reeling from the look on the young bride’s face when she saw her bouquet. That was undoubtedly the best part of your job, seeing the joy on your customer’s faces when they saw their arrangements. Maybe this feeling could carry you through the night.

The tires of Steve’s Audi crunched under the gravel of the long driveway up to Bucky’s estate. Steve told you he had a townhouse in Brooklyn but for the most part they stayed at their estate outside of the city. You looked up at the facade of the house and admired the ivy that clung to the bricks.

Parking the car Steve got out and quickly made his way to your side to let you out. Just one of the many old-fashioned quirks that he had. You accepted his hand as he helped you out of the car and leaned up to kiss his cheek. His hand traveled down to rub your back reassuringly. You looked up at him.

“Don’t worry, they’ll love you. Natasha can be intense but she means well. Just be yourself and they’ll love you just as much as I do.” He kissed your hair to soothe you and lead you towards the door.

Steve nodded at the man at the door. “Scott. Nice to see you, this is my girlfriend”

You smiled and gave him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Scott”.

He smiled and greeted you in kind, lifting his hand to shake yours. When he did his jacket rode up and you could see the holster and butt of his gun. You ignored it and shook his hand.

Scott opened the door for you and you entered the house. Mansion, might be a better word honestly. Marble floors, oak woodwork, all the look of any house you’d find in the area and all in line with how you’d think a rich mob boss might live. The foyer was empty but you could hear voices in the distance.

Steve waltzed through the halls like he lived here, when he was at work he probably practically did. The space was teeming with energy as they bantered on with trash talk and promises of beating one another. Men sat at a round table drinking, waiting to deal cards and women standing around sipping on wine.

One man looked familiar from the pictures you’d seen around Steve’s place. His sharp jaw and long dark hair drew your attention instantly; Bucky Barnes, King of Brooklyn. His brows were pinched together in a scowl but he had a playful grin on his face. You steeled yourself the best you could and prepared for your introduction. Just think of him as Steve’s childhood best friend.

“Steve! ‘Bout time you showed up you bastard!” an accented voice belonging to a tall blond man with long hair called. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “And are you the enchantress that our dear friend goes on and on about? Now that I’m meeting you I can see why!”

Steve let out an embarrassed laugh and motioned towards his friend. “This is Thor, don’t let the muscle fool you, he’s a total teddy bear”

You gave him your name and extended your hand when he brought you in for a bone-crushing hug. You let out a laugh and hugged him back, grateful for something to ease the tension you felt.

“How’s that for a warm welcome, huh?” A voice sounded from behind you.

Thor released you from your hug and you took a desperately needed breath. He patted you on the shoulder.

“Wanted to make our dear Steven’s girl feel at home, that’s all” Thor explained. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to beating your boyfriend at poker.” You laughed at that and turned to face the man who spoke earlier.

That man was none other than Bucky, who reached out for your hand. You gave it to him and he instead lifted it to give a gentle kiss.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting the one and only. Stevie here won’t shut up about you sometimes. I’m Bucky but I’m sure you already knew that.”

“I’ve heard about you too, it’s nice to finally meet.” You nodded as you took your hand back.

“I’m afraid I need to steal your man, we’ve been waiting on him to start the game but tell you what, why don’t you go find my wife Natasha, I know she’s been dying to meet you.”

Great, not at all intimidating. Okay fine just smile and breathe. Maybe get a drink. You smiled at Bucky. “The redhead, right?” He nodded and sent you on your way. One last look at Steve you shot him a worried look but he only winked at you.

You looked around the room and shrunk in on yourself a bit. You were never the best with social outings or being in new environments. You looked around again and found the very redhead you had been in search of smirking at you from the corner. She was dressed in a sleek black dress and looked effortlessly beautiful but also like she could strangle a man with her bare hands. You steeled yourself with a smile you’re sure she saw straight through.

“So you’re the one responsible for the flowers at my wedding?” You nodded Pleasesayyoulikedthempleasesayyoulikedthem “I loved them! The wedding planner recommended you and I’m so glad she did. It’s so hard to find a good color pallet but you nailed it. Come on, you need a drink then I’ll introduce you to the girls”

She ushered you towards the kitchen where she took the waiting wine glass from the counter and handed it to you. You didn’t like red but you’d drink it anyways. You brought the glass to your lips and took a sip.

You two talked for a bit in the kitchen, maybe she wasn’t as scary as she seemed. You tipped the stem of your glass until there was nothing left. Before you could ask for different wine she was topping you off from the same bottle. Another round of apprehensive sips and hidden grimaces but you thanked her regardless. It was now your goal to find the sociable sweet spot of drunkenness. You could feel blood rushing to your cheeks from the alcohol as tipsiness settled in.

Natasha raised an eyebrow and considered you for a moment.

“So how are you handling the whole organized crime thing? Gotta say, I didn’t peg you as his type but you guys are cute.”

You stopped yourself from spitting the wine in your mouth back into the glass.

“Um, thanks, I guess” You sputtered, “we uh, try to keep things separate. Figure it’s best for both of us.”

Natasha nodded, taking another drink herself.

“That’s probably best but I mean, how long can you keep that up, really?” She asked

You hated to admit it but she had a point. It’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. You opened your mouth to answer her when a man walked into the room and called your name. You looked expectantly (and slightly gratefully) towards him.

“I believe your man has requested your presence at the table. Somethin’ about needing a cornflower? I don’t know he said you’d get it. What are you two gossipin’ about in here anyways?” He questioned.

Natasha spoke before you could “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, Sam. We’re right behind you.” Sam nodded and retreated back to the doorway to wait for you.

Natasha touched your shoulder and you looked to her.

“Look, I didn’t mean to come off so brash, I guess I’m just trying to say, I know that being involved in this life isn’t easy. We’ll swap numbers later. Maybe we’ll go to lunch” She winked at you. You couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not but you nodded anyways.

“I-Thank you, I think I’d like that. I’d better go find Steve though” you excused yourself and made your way back to the table.

____

Steve Rogers was having a good night. He finally got to introduce his friends to his girl, she seemed to be relaxing a bit and having a better time, and he was well on his way to getting a straight flush this hand. The only thing that would seal the deal is his good luck charm by his side.

Steve called to Sam across the room and as soon as Sam walked over and bent Steve spoke.

“Sam, could you do me a solid and find my girl? Think she went to get a drink with Nat. Tell her I need cornflowers”

“Man if this is some weird sex thing I’m gonna be mad” Sam said with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“Oh, please. Nothin’ like that, promise. She’ll know what it means.” Steve pat his friend on the shoulder and paid attention as Thor dealt cards.

A minute later his girl was walking through the door with an uneasy smile on her face. Something is wrong but he can’t gauge how serious it is. Sam says something to make her laugh and he settles on asking her later. Natasha saunters out behind them looking almost amused but cautious. Like she was regretting something. She’d probably just tried to give his girl the third degree when Sam interrupted them. It’s for the best, that’s too much for one night.

His girl smiles as she approaches him, looking slightly more at ease when she takes another sip of her wine. Her smile was a little looser and she moved a bit more freely, definitely tipsy and completely adorable with that grin on her lips.

“How are things going over here for you boys?”

Gauging how tipsy she was, he patted his knee in offering and she took it with a shy smile. Only slightly. But enough not to worry so much.

“Well, sweetheart, I’m about to kick all their asses and I figured I could use a good luck charm to seal the deal.” He boasted.

“Oh,” she said in realization, “Then I’m all yours”. She settled into his lap and watched on.

Her face was nothing short of endearing as she tried to concentrate and take in the game. He remembered she said she hadn’t been good at poker but it was sweet she was trying to pay attention anyways and be there for him.

“What’s the pot?” She asked.

“Nothin’ serious, there’s a pretty nice box of cigars and a weekend at Buck’s place in the Hamptons in the mix but we don’t do cash at get togethers like this, that’s for boy’s nights only.” He explained as he rubbed her back with his free hand. “Tonight’s just about fun”

She nodded as she studied the table some more before resigning to laying her head against his and listening to whatever bullshit Clint was on about. Steve was focused on getting others at the table to fold, he knew he had a good hand and a good chance of winning, he just needed the others to back down to bring it home.

Thor placed the final community card face up and Steve set out a low whistle. Others at the table looked a little miffed but he just knew he was taking it all. He set down his cards to a chorus of groans as he raked all the chips towards himself. You placed a kiss to his temple and he returned one to your cheek.

“Just the good luck I needed” he said loud enough for the table to hear.

“Hey Steve you gotta come see this!”

Steve tsked in annoyance. “Can it wait? I’m up and we were gonna keep playing. I’ll be there after”

“No, you should go. Let her play a hand for you, we can get to know each other better” Bucky suggested.

“Oh, I don’t think you want me playing poker.” She laughed but nervousness was the only emotion he could see on your face. He opened his mouth to protest but was cut off.

“She’ll be fine, we’ll go easy on her, I mean it. If it makes you feel better we’ll even hold the pot. This round is just for shits.” Bucky insisted.

Caught between wanting to ask how you felt about it and not wanting to get flak about being so sensitive Steve tilted his head in silent asking at you.

You gave him the same unsure smile you’d had all night and nodded up at him. “I’ll be fine, Stevie, promise.”

He gave her a reassuring smile and then turned his eye to Bucky who was all smiles. He knew exactly what Bucky was trying to do. Buck knows she doesn’t know anything but he’s gonna turn the screws on her just like he does with anyone new at the table. Steve gave him a stern expression in warning. Don’t scare her off.

____

You could hear your heart beating in your ears as you tried to decide what to do. Take it slow. You told yourself. You looked up to find all the eyes at the table on you and did your best to calm yourself.

“So who’s dealing?” A man you hadn’t previously met swiped the cards and began shuffling.

“Look, I know we said we’d put the pot on hold but Laura’s been bugging me about a vacation and I don’t know that I can pass up this opportunity to steal from Steve so easily, so” The man you’d come to know as Clint trailed off. You did your best not to be offended.

“Shut up, Barton. I promised Steve, we just wanna have a little fun, don’t we?” Bucky asked.

Is he asking me?

You decided to take a sip of your wine instead and he chuckled.

“So,” Bucky turned to you, “I know that you know about what we do, there’s no point in denying it. The question is are you going to be a problem for us or do you know how to keep things to yourself?”

Frozen in fear you could only manage to look at the rest of the table, hoping to find that this was all a joke. Instead, every face looking to you was stony and waiting on an answer. God, this man was made for Natasha, that much is clear. Your eyes darted around the room looking for an out. Where is Steve? Where the fuck is Steve?

You don’t find him, but you do find Natasha looking at you, she smiles and looks to her husband before she shakes her head. She makes her way over to her husband and lightly smacks him in the back of the head.

The look of surprise on his face ruins his silent and aggressive front as he winces in pain. He looks in slight annoyance at his wife as she tsks at him.

“Will you stop already? She’s a smart girl and you don’t need to go scaring her off. In fact, I hope she beats you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.” Natasha sounded so confident. You warmed to the fact that she was in your corner when you were practically a stranger in her home.

“Aw c’mon, Babe, I was only messin’ with her.” Bucky turned to Nat and she just challenged him with a smile.

You didn’t know why Natasha has suddenly become so supportive, maybe she felt bad about earlier but you were grateful to her. She pulled up a chair between the two of you to watch and motioned to the dealer to continue. You finished your second glass and prepared yourself for the night ahead. Any chance they had of you going easy on them went out the window.

____

You lost the first hand graciously, saying you hadn’t played poker since you were in college as an excuse for your loss. But when Steve was still busy and Bucky offered another round you accepted. You decided to put your full effort in this time.

Twenty minutes later everyone at the table was feeling confident in their hands, staring at each other like some sort of Mexican standoff, willing the others to fold. You could tell by the way Clint kept scratching the cut on his chin that he was screwed and he knew it. Thor couldn’t go more than 5 seconds without nervous laughing.

But Bucky? He was a tough read but about half way through the round his leg started bouncing. You knew this because he was bumping into Natasha, who’s wine was sloshing around in the glass despite her stillness. These clods didn’t stand a chance.

The dealer, Vision, you’d learned, called for everyone to show their cards. Here goes. One by one everyone set their cards down until finally it was your turn. You set them down but focused on your opponents faces. Everyone looked confused, shocked even. You had laid down a royal flush and handily smoked them all.

“Holy shit”

“Holy shit indeed”

“Told you so” Nat teased.

You smiled at all of them and drank from your newly topped off glass of wine - white this time. A warm pair of hands rested on your shoulders and you looked up to find Steve smiling down at you.

“What’s going on over here, gentlemen?”

“Well, Steve, I think your girl is hustlin’ us. Thought you said you hadn’t played since college?” Bucky turned to you. You couldn’t gauge how angry he was but you decided to be honest.

“I haven’t,” you began, “But when I did I was pretty damn good. You just assumed I didn’t know what I was doing.” You shrugged.

The room was tense, it felt like everyone was looking to Bucky to see what to do next. He broke out into a wide smile and a low chuckle turned into hearty laugh. Everyone visibly relaxed.

“I gotta say, Steve. She isn’t what I expected, but she’s sure somethin’”

“A girl after my own heart” Natasha added.

Steve bent down to kiss your head. You stood from the table and offered him your seat. Nat put a hand on your shoulder.

“Steve I’m going to steal her again, the girls will probably want to hear all about your little cardshark.”

____

He had to admit, he was completely blown away by your little stunt at the table. He thought back to earlier when you watched him play. You weren’t trying to desperately understand the game, you were studying your opponents. He couldn’t deny it was kinda hot. You were full of surprises.

He smiled thinking that you were no different than the day you met, timid but aggressive when you need to be. That’s my girl.

The rest of the night came and went without incident, Steve didn’t end up taking home the pot but he did have a conversation with Bucky.

“She and I don’t talk about work. She knows that what we do isn’t exactly reputable but let’s face it, anyone in Brooklyn would. She doesn’t know and she doesn’t want to.”

Bucky took a long drag from his glass of bourbon and nodded.

“But if she ever did I hope she’s smart enough to know she has to keep what she knows to herself. We can’t afford any slip ups.”

Steve’s fists clenched and he controlled his anger enough not to snap at Bucky. He was his best friend but Bucky was still the boss and Steve knew how much was at stake.

“Not that it’s any of my business but you love this girl, right?” Steve swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Then how the hell are you gonna manage that? Keepin’ your two worlds separate? I mean, you just gonna walk her down the aisle and live happily forever keeping half your life from her? I need to know that if push came to shove she wouldn’t sell us out. Things are fine for now but you know that you’re either in or you’re out. I care about you, Steve, you’re my best friend but you need to see straight.”

Steve looked away, his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. He knew Bucky was right. He loved you but he owed his life to Bucky, he was his brother. But he loved you. They were careful in their work and he knew any feds that tried to come after them wouldn’t find a thing. He could put this issue into a box and seal the lid tightly, at least for a while.

“I know you’re right. I love her and she’s a good woman. She wouldn’t say anything because she doesn’t know anything. And she never will.”

He left Bucky to stand on his own in search of you. He found you laughing with Laura, Wanda and Nat. He smiled at how welcomed you seemed to feel despite the rocky start.

“You ready to go, doll?”

You turned around and smiled at him. You looked back at the girls and then reluctantly back to him but nodded.

“Guess we’d better go, I’ve got to get down to the flower market at open tomorrow morning”

____

After a very long round of goodbyes you swapped numbers with Nat with promises of future lunch plans. The night had turned out worlds better than you thought that it would. You served a bunch of men their own egos on a silver platter and didn’t get murdered for it and you even made friends.

Still though Nat’s words echoed in your mind ‘how long can you keep that up, really?’ Little did you know but the same thoughts troubled Steve. You knew eventually you would have to make a choice if you ever wanted to get more serious than you were with each other, you just didn’t know what choice you’d make.

The ride home was quiet but not tense. He held your hand a little tighter than usual but you thought maybe he was just excited you had gotten on so well with your friends. He pulled up to your building and put the car in park.

“So do you think they liked me? I mean, other than hustling them at poker I’d say I made a pretty good impression”

Steve chuckled, “Yeah, doll. Gotta say, the whole cardshark thing? Kinda hot, didn’t know you had that in you, you little fiend.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and grinned at him. “I wasn’t gonna but Clint started talking shit.”

“Then he deserved his ass kicked” Steve joked. “I’d come up but I know you’ve got an early morning. Thank you for coming and meeting everyone tonight, I know that you want to keep things separate but these people are family to me, it means a lot that you met them”

You nodded and smiled. You told yourself you didn’t need to make the choice between getting involved with his work and keeping it apart from the other aspects of your life but it seems that by meeting them you had already made one.

Maybe you could talk more to Nat about this, she’d know what your situation is like more than anyone. For now though you decided to focus on the present reality, you had a good night and you had fun and now you’re about to kiss the man you love.

“Of course” you whispered. You kissed him slowly, trying to put off the sleepless night you were surely about to have.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you”

“I love you too, Stevie”

#rwlc love in bloom challenge #steve rogers x reader #mob au #mob!steve x reader #mafia!au #mafia!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #botanical interest #fluff #angst

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nalledimessi · 3 years

Text

Chapter seven: Visit

Hello there friends, welcome to the new followers. Well, after 2 weeks of waiting I bring you here the new chapter of your favorite serie, do you still hate me for the last chapter? Well, maybe if you didn't hate me for the last chapter you would hate me for this.

Please don’t forget to love, comment and reblog, so someone else would be able to read it! Thanks to you this could be possible and as always thanks to @imgoingtofreakoutnow

· Warnings: Sadness, Klaus been Klaus.

· Tag´s list: @valsworldofcreativity @avala-moon @r13mar @drwho-ess @mizelophsun11 @helenasingers

If you haven’t read the previous chapters click below!

< Chapter five: Drams.

“We’ve been over this already.” Klaus shakes his head, bent over the desk of the study. “The point is, in his present state, he would do more harm than any good”

“I spoke with him, Niklaus; Elijah decided that it’s better to let her go” she explains again to him.

“You didn’t see his eyes, Rebekah.” He gives her a sad look. “He was ready to turn off his humanity after the call with [Y/N]” he tries to make her understand.

“But Niklaus...” she begs but is interrupted by him.

“I won’t remove the dagger until our sister Freya is sure that he will be back to being himself. Did I make myself clear, Rebekah?” he shout at her.

“And when that would be Nik?” she questions him, crossing her arms.

“Be of some use and bring her here” he answers, pouring bourbon in a glass as he watches her leave the study.

Rebekah exits the compound in a hurry, anger all over her face, trying to get to her sister Freya as soon as possible, unaware of the brown haired and eyed vampire in front the estate.

He starts walking down the streets, in the opposite direction Rebekah went, and takes out his phone. “Hello sweetheart” he greets you when you answer.

“Do you have any news?” you ask, biting your lower lip.

“I do” he nods, walking around the French quarter. “It seems that Elijah ended up with a dagger in his chest to avoid he would turn his humanity off after your little chat with him. Care to elaborate, love?” he requests.

“He begged me to return home, return to him,” you explain, “but I can’t return. I don’t even know if I could ever return to New Orleans.” You place your hand protectively over your belly, remembering everything that happen before, between and after Hope was born: you couldn’t risk your child’s life, even if that means sacrificing your own happiness. “I need you to give him a message”

A small smirk tugs on his lips. “I’m all ears, sweetheart”

“Glad you decided to join us, dear sister.” Klaus greets Freya, raising his drink to her and Rebekah, both entering the compound. “Did you found something about Elijah’s predicament?” he questions, making himself comfortable in the couch.

“I’ve searched in every grimoire, old and new; I even talked with the oldest witch in New Orleans but I couldn’t find anything useful” she declared to both of her siblings.

Klaus takes his hand to his forehead. “Then what now?” he asks her.

“Wake him up. That’s the only way to truly know if he’s back to being our brother” she proposes.

“Fine” he says between gritted teeth, “you want to wake him up?” He points to Rebekah. “Wake him up but he’s your responsibility” he expresses before heading back to his study, leaving them to awake him.

“The handsome brother just arrived!” Walking inside through the door, the cocky tone makes Klaus appear in the foyer once again, where he’s met with the sight of his younger brother, Kol.

“Look what the wind brought, there’s a dagger and a coffin with your name engraved on them, dear brother” Niklaus says, walking towards him.

“I know you won’t continue with your threats after you know why I’m here” he assures, confident.

“Well then, carry on brother; what’s so amusing that would stop me from daggering you and putting you back into your coffin?”

He grins. “I have a message for Elijah”

Klaus takes a sit on the couch, resting his arms on its backrest. “Well, the noble brother is not available until further notice”

“Speak for yourself, Niklaus” Elijah said, coming downstairs in a brand-new suit.

“Ah! The noble brother has returned!” Klaus states from the couch. “Have you come back to your senses?” he questions him.

“It’s concern that I hear in your voice?” He set his gaze on him while fixing his cuffs. Then he looks to his youngest brother. “Kol” he says, greeting him with a nod.

“Anything I should know?” he asks, extending his arms and looking between them.

“Nothing of your concern, brother” Elijah rushes to answer.

Klaus raises his eyebrows. “If anyone knows about blood thirst, there’s no one better than him”

“Blood thirst? Really, Elijah?” he question surprise.

The noble vampire walks to pour a drink for himself. “Tell me, brother,” he looks away from his drink to fix his eyes on him, “what bring you to New Orleans?”

“I have a message.” Elijah wrinkles his forehead at this. “From [Y/N].” His face expression relaxes just at the mention of her name. “Well, more like a voicemail in your phone...”

“I’m sorry you had to travel all the way here for this, brother, but I decided to let her go” he lets him know, drinking from his glass.

Kol chuckles. “She said you would say that, she really knows you well, brother.” He pauses for a moment. “She isn’t sure if she will ever return to New Orleans, to you, even if you’ll be waiting for her” he adds as Elijah steps closer to him in search of answers.

“Why precisely did she want you to deliver this message, Kol?” he asks, stopping in front of him, doubt in his voice. “Why not Rebekah or Damon, even?”

“I care for her” he tells him. “She had my back and believed in me before I left and I would do the same for her.” Kol heads to the door but turns around before walking out of the compound. “If you think she can’t protect herself, you’re completely wrong, brother. She can definitely kick your bloody ass,” —he turns to look at Klaus— “even yours brother.” Then he disappears in the streets of the French Quarter.

Elijah nods to his siblings. “I’ll be in my room. And I don’t want to be disturb” he warns all three of them before disappearing upstairs.

He sits with his back against the headboard of his bed. He takes a deep breath and rests his head back, retrieving his phone and playing with him for a moment or two before going directly to his voicemail. He hesitates when he sees your name, just for a few seconds, but then he presses play…

“I wish I could tell you this with you on the line but I don’t think I could handle it right now, especially knowing that because of our last call you ended up with a dagger in your chest, lying in that horrible coffin that I hate so much. I wish I could kick Klaus for it,” you take a deep breath, “but I’m also relieved that he did that to keeping you from turning your emotions off. I know it’s probably unbearable for you, Elijah, and I know I’m not in the position to ask you anything but please, promise me that you won’t turn them off. Ever”

He pauses the voice message, trying to control the sadness now constant in his heart since you left, the anger he feels for choosing once again his brother’s happiness over his own and the fear that keeps growing in his chest at the mere thought of not seeing you or even listening to your voice again.

“I’m trying to calm you down with this, but you can be very stubborn sometimes. You shouldn’t be worried about my well-being, I can assure you I’m fine, no threat on my back. I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you; it’s quite the contrary. I love you more now than when I left and maybe you will understand in not-so-far future the reason why I left, but now it’s not the time. Don’t ask me why or how this happened, but I did love the dream you created for us and for our child. I love you Elijah, always and forever; never forget that”

He closes his eyes at your last sentence. How can you know about the dream he created only for him while he was sleeping? Now he’s more determined than never to pursue his happiness, which was with you by his side. Maybe it’s selfish of him, but after centuries of putting his siblings’ priorities first, he had enough. He lays down on his bed, closing his eyes to relive his dream.

He went down the stairs, headed to the living room. “I have a surprise for you”

“Is it related to the fact that you didn’t allow me into our child’s room?” you ask, moving your sight from your book to look at him, tie discarded, the first few buttons of his shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“It is” he grins and extends his hand to you. “Shall we?” With a smile, you leave your book aside and place your hand in his.

“Lead the way.” You go on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “You didn’t have to do this”

“But I want to” he responds while going upstairs. He stops in front of the door. “Please, close your eyes, my love” he requests sweetly.

You do as he says and you can hear the door opening. You feel him taking your hand and guiding you inside the room. “Open your eyes”

The room was painted in a light mint color. Once inside, the first thing you notice it’s a traditional dark wood drawer and changing table placed against the wall, on which are applied some wooden panels in the shape of musical notes. “I may not know how to draw, but do I know how to write music” he smiles. You nod as your eyes are drawn to the crib in the middle of the room. You walk closer to it, moving your hand on its dark headboard, in which is carved the Mikaelson’s crest.

You look back at him, tears in your eyes. “You did this for our baby?”

“Of course, my darling.” He walks to you, hugging your waist with his left arm and placing a kiss on your temple. “I would do anything for you,” he places his right hand over your baby bump, “and for our child”

“Family above all” you quote.

He smiles. “Always and forever” he adds, kissing you.

Chapter eight: Chaos >

#Waiting for you #nalledimessi #mikaelson x winchester #elijah mikaelson x winchester sister #the originals #supernatural #spnfamliy #elijah mikaelson #winchester!sister #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson series #elijah mikaelson fan fictions #winchester fanfiction #winchester series #elijah mikaelson x winchester!sister #elijah mikaelson imagine

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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

Text

When the Chips are Down

part 11

masterlist

hello, my darlings! the plot thickens! You all know how I love drama. Very excited for you all to read the newest installment in the series--- chaotic puff

Y/N loved lazy mornings. She enjoyed the freedom of just laying in bed half asleep still and basking in the warmth of the early morning sun. The windows of the cottage would allow in a pleasant breeze, and she would always burrow back into Mark’s arms. He always slept curled around her protectively. It was safe, secure.

Here, on mornings like this, she could forget the worries of Namjoon hunting her down, of Jackson’s death, of the sister who was probably worrying herself half to death back home. Instead she could, if only for a moment, bask in the embrace of a man who loved her.

But there was no breeze. There were no sounds of the lazy Italian countryside coming to life, but there was a set of arms wrapped around her and the warmth of someone pressed against her back.

Her eyes shot open as the realization of where she was and who she was with sunk in. This was not the Italian countryside. This was Korea, the estate, and the man holding her wasn’t Mark.

Y/N took a moment to collect herself, to fully bring herself back to the present, before she began to extract herself from Namjoon’s arms. She had just begun to slip away, when Namjoon’s grip tightened like a vice bringing her firmly back to his chest and ruining all of her progress.

“Go back to sleep.” Namjoon murmured, voice still husky with sleep as he nuzzled into the back of her neck. “It’s still early.”

“Namjoon.” her voice was firm, as tense as the rest of her, but he ignored that, pulling her even closer. “Namjoon.”

“No.” he growled against her neck. “Sleep.”

“Namjoon.” she hissed, beginning to get annoyed.

“Just a little longer.” he whispered, thumb moving back and forth across her belly. “Let’s just stay like this a little longer.”

“Namjoon.” she sighed, even as she relaxed back into his arms. She could allow him a few more minutes of peace before she shattered it again.

“Just a little longer.”

Namjoon drifted back off to sleep behind her, but Y/N couldn’t. She was wide awake, mind reeling.

She knew that last night was a bad idea, but she was horny, pregnant, and alone, and Namjoon had looked at her so softly, so excitedly. Just for a moment she had wanted to forget her situation, to feel loved and safe, and it had worked, if only for that moment. The moment had passed now, and reality had come crashing back down again.

She felt dirty, ashamed. It was something she never should have allowed to happen, but it had, and she couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t. Namjoon wouldn’t let her. Last night was sure to have meant more to him than it did to her. Every moment that they had together meant more to him than it did to her. This was hell for her, but to him it was heaven. It was their married life. Every moment she was anything but hostile to him was a win in his books, a sign that they could be more even if it was nothing more than a distant dream.

Eventually, Y/N couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to get out of his arms. She needed space to clear her head, space Namjoon seemed intent on denying her. His grip had loosened since she had first tried to leave his arms, and Y/N moved carefully to remove herself. Based on the light filtering through the window, it was still early morning, and if she was very careful she could slip away without waking him. That all depended on how deep asleep Namjoon was and how carefully she could remove herself from his arms.

Each moment was slow and careful, but eventually she was able to completely extricate herself from his embrace. Finally out of his arms, she could breathe again, and thankfully Namjoon was still asleep. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. It was hard to imagine that he was the creature from her nightmares when he looked so soft and sweet like this, but he was still the monster in her dreams, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

A glance at the clock told her it was just barely seven in the morning, and that gave her time to get washed up and ready before Namjoon woke up. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Forty minutes later she was washed and ready for the day in a pair of flowy lounge pants and a comfortable top, and Namjoon was still sound asleep in bed. She knew she probably should have stayed, but she wanted out of this room, and the doctor had told her she was fine to be off bedrest.

The staff was already working around the house, and as she moved through the house, she received odd looks. The doctor may have cleared her, but Namjoon had not, and it was Namjoon that the staff obeyed. As far as they knew, she was supposed to still be in bed under the master of the house’s watchful gaze, but she wasn’t, and it was clear she was making them all nervous.

“Buin?” Miss In appeared as if from nowhere with a concern etched onto her face.

“Namjoon is still asleep.” she smiled as naturally as she could trying to sooth the worries of the staff. “I thought I could take Moni for a morning walk in the garden.”

“Buin should be resting.” Miss In sighed shaking her head. “Sajangnim requested you stay in bed.”

“And Dr. Yang said it was alright for me to be out of bed. I’d very much like to go for a walk.”

“Buin should wait for Sajangnim to accompany her.” Miss In sighed, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“Would it make you feel better if I put off the walk until later and took breakfast in the piano room instead?” Y/N huffed, giving in knowing that she wasn’t going to win against the housekeeper when Namjoon’s orders were in question.

“I’ll have the kitchen prepare something for you.” Miss In bowed with a slight smile. The housekeeper turned slightly, setting her sharp gaze on one of the maids lingering in the hall. “Miran!” the poor young woman jumped like a startled mouse.

“Yes, Miss In?”

“Have the kitchen prepare breakfast and tea for the lady..” she turned back to Y/N. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to have breakfast in the dining room or the garden?”

“The piano room will be fine.” she responded with a smile.

“The garden would be more comfortable.”

The message was clear. The piano room was off limits for breakfast today. Namjoon wasn’t allowed within the room without her permission, and Miss In wanted her where Namjoon could find her without any hindrance. It was nice for Namjoon, but it removed the small sense of space she would have had within the relative safety of her piano room.

“The garden will be fine.” she said with a sigh. She was tired, and it was easier to give in rather than fight to have breakfast in the room she wanted.

“I will accompany you.”

Y/N nodded allowing the older lady to walk her out to the patio. She was probably going to have a babysitter until Namjoon woke up and came to find her, but she was relatively used to having babysitters within the confines of the estate. She’d had them for the vast majority of the time she’d been here last year. Jungkook had been her favorite of the babysitters, and she found herself missing the young man. She had yet to see him since she returned to Korea, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he was. Logically she knew he was probably just as bad as Namjoon, but something about him made her forget that and instead look at him like a little brother. She’d have to ask Namjoon to send him over. She’d do it herself, but the distinct lack of phone made that hard.

“Could you let Moni out into the garden?” she asked as Miss In helped her down into one of the chairs on the patio. “Poor dog would probably like to run around for a while.”

“As you wish, buin.” Miss In nodded, going back to the doors to release the dog that was already waiting to be released. He was just a few moments too late to have gone out with her, but she still knew the dog well enough to know that he had an almost supernatural ability to tell when she went outside.

“Hey, Moni.” she cooed reaching down to scratch the dogs ears as he jumped up to put his paws on her lap. “How’s my good boy?” his puffy tail wagged excitedly as he tried to reach up to give her puppy kisses and getting white hair all over her. “Miss In?” she called turning her attention back to the older woman who lingered waiting for the master of the house to arrive. “How long have you worked here?”

“Since before Master Namjoon came to the house.”

That caught her attention. “Before?”

“Master Namjoon was brought to the estate by the previous master of the house.” Miss In nodded.

“How old was he?”

“No more than eight, buin.”

Eight. It was so young to have been brought into this world. “So he wasn’t born here.”

“No, buin. Sajangnim was adopted by Si Hyuk-sii as a boy.”

“Si Hyuk-ssi?”

“Bang Si Hyuk was the previous master of the house and head of the business. He was also Master Namjoon’s uncle.”

“What about his parents?”

“I’m sorry, buin. I don’t know.” she bowed apologetically. “Si Hyuk-sii did not make me privy to this information. I was only a maid at the time. You would have to talk to the previous housekeeper or ask sajangnim himself. All I know is that sajangnim was the son of Si Hyuk’s sister.”

She was going to ask another question, but it was at that moment that Namjoon came through the door looking more disgruntled than she would have preferred, but she did leave him alone in bed after he asked her to stay, so perhaps she should have expected that.

“Y/N.” he sighed out half annoyed and half relieved. “You shouldn’t be up.” he scolded quickly striding across the patio to her side.

“The doctor said I don’t need to be on bed rest.” she huffed, sitting perfectly still as Namjoon pressed a kiss to her lips.

“And I said bed rest. You’ve been too stressed. I don’t want anything to happen to you or our daughter.”

“Congratulation, sajangnim.” Miss In bowed with a bright smile.

The people in the room for the doctor’s appointment all knew about the baby, but Y/N had refrained from telling anyone else until Namjoon knew. She didn’t like him, but there was something just wrong about telling everyone else before him. No matter what her feelings for him were, he was still the father.

“Shall I start preparing things for the young miss?” the housekeeper asked, the bright smile still stuck on her face.

“Actually, I’d like to pick things for her if I could.” Y/N chimed in, sitting up a little straighter and accidentally dislodging Moni from his place half leaning against her lap.

“Of course you can.” Namjoon smiled, sinking down into the seat beside her. “I’ll have someone bring catalogues for us to look over.” Of course it would be catalogues. He wasn’t about to let her actually go into the city to look for baby clothes.

“I’ll check on breakfast.” still smiling, Miss In excused herself, leaving the couple to relax in the gentle morning sunshine.

As soon as she was out of sight, Namjoon turned his attention fully on her. “You weren’t there when I woke up.”

“I didn’t know I was confined to the bedroom.”

Her stiff posture and brusk tone didn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon. “Y/N.” he sighed reaching over to grasp her hand. “I don’t want to fight with you, not today.”

She slipped her hand away from his. “I’m not fighting.”

Namjoon was a smart man, smart enough to know that something was wrong. She wouldn’t meet his eye, and she strung taunt like a bow string. It seemed like she would snap at any moment, and that wasn’t good for the baby.

“Please, jagi.” he cooed forcing himself to remain calm and gentle even though she had a look in her eye that made it seem like she was going to punch him if he so much as moved wrong.

“Last night was a mistake.” she whispered, keeping her eye on the dog who had jumped up onto the chair on her other side.

“No, jagi. It wasn’t.”

“We shouldn’t have. It’s not good for the baby. It’s not…”

“No excuses, jagi.” he cut her off, annoyance building up. “I’m tired of excuses, and I don’t want to fight. Last night wasn’t a mistake. We are consenting adults, a married couple. There was nothing wrong with what we did.” she was going to argue, but namjoon cut her off again. “We would have to eventually, jagi. As pleased as I am that we have a healthy daughter on the way, I still need a son.”

“Couldn’t you adopt a son? You were adopted” she whispered. With her eyes fixated on Moni, she didn’t see the way that Namjoon tensed beside her.

“I see you and Miss In have been talking.” he mused, his voice lowering into a growl and a certain darkness entering his eyes. “No. There will be no adopting. You promised me a son, and we will have one.”

“I lied.”

“What?” he snapped, tone venomous.

“I might not be able to give you a son.” She turned her gaze to meet his, jaw set stubbornly. “This pregnancy shouldn’t have happened. None of the others made it. I didn’t think this one would make it either. The never made it.”

A deep, charged silence fell between them as Namjoon processed this new information.

“Others?”

part 12

252 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Circumstances (Just Friends Part 7) - Cillian Murphy Imagine

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: SMUT

Words: 5789

Notes: I have decided to include one of the requests I received in this series as I didn’t know how to best write it as a standalone at this point. I think it makes sense as part of this series as trust between Cillian and the Reader has been clearly established. I might still write a stand-alone piece as well incorporating the same request as this is the sort of Smut I like. So, stay tuned for that!

------

The Letter

It has been five weeks now since Cillian and you admitted your feelings for each other and things were going great.

Some days you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have found a man like him, someone who cared not only for you but also your son Max.

Cillian adored Max and Max enjoyed Cillian’s and Cillian’s children’s company.

Cillian would often pick Max up from preschool when you had to work late and prepare dinner for you and Max. Max thought that this was fantastic since you were a terrible cook.

But, despite this, it was sometimes difficult to arrange dates when you both had children to look after. You both tried to work around this issue as best as you could but, realistically, you only managed to have three sleepovers per week, mostly when Cillian didn’t have his boys. This was when he came over to stay at your house and you always hated when he had to leave.

After all, you were madly in love, a feeling which was unfamiliar to you. You wanted to be around him all the time and whenever you weren’t together you missed him.

As expected, you received some backlash from strangers due to your age gap but you tended to ignore the frustrating comments. They didn’t know you and they didn’t know your relationship.

The comments you received from your friends were nothing but supportive and even your grandmother thought that Cillian was good for you, much unlike your previous partners.

You still haven’t told your parents about your relationship, but your sister was aware. She followed Twitter quite eagerly and loved Cillian’s TV Show hence the reason you told her.

Your sister was concerned that your father wouldn’t approve of your relationship due to the large age gap, but that wasn’t a problem you were ready to face yet and little did you know that you were about to have bigger problems than that coming your way.

Bad news was about to hit you like a freight train. It was 10am on Friday morning. You were working from home while Max was at preschool as the doorbell rang.

It was unusual for the postman to drop off letters personally. Usually that meant that you had to sign for your letters, which was never a good sign.

You thought that it must be a vehicle recall, or notice of some sort. But it was worse. It was a letter from your real estate agent advising you that you will be required to vacate the premises within 30 days.

You could not believe it. It was difficult enough for you to find this townhouse as a single mother in an area where the schools were decent enough. You were always on time with your rent and never missed a single payment. You had no idea why you had to move out.

You called the real estate agent immediately and were advised that the owner is returning from America and requires the premises at the end of the lease term. There was nothing you could do.

The real estate agent advised you that there were no suitable rentals in the area within your price range but that they were willing to give you a good reference should you find something else with a different agent.

You were devastated. The last thing you wanted is to take Max out of preschool just after he made some friends. Furthermore, Cillian’s youngest son was attending the same preschool and it was a perfect arrangement for the both of you.

As you went on with the day, you put your non urgent work aside in order to search for rentals online as, all of a sudden, the doorbell rang.

‘Oh Cillian… I totally forgot’ you said as you opened the door.

‘You forgot our date?’ Cillian chuckled as he walked in the door, giving you a quick kiss.

‘I must be the worst girlfriend’ you said with some embarrassment. You never forgot a date with your boyfriend before. After all, it was what you looked forward to the most.

‘Relax, it’s fine Y/N’ Cillian said before noticing that your face was slightly flushed and your eyes were red.

‘Are you alright though? You look like you’ve been crying’ Cillian said as he ran his hands over both of your arms. He knew that something was wrong.

‘Yes, I just had a very stressful and shit morning. I am alright now though’ you said as you walked into the bedroom to get changed, ready to go out for lunch.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Cillian asked from the hallway.

You took the letter which you received from the real estate agent from the sideboard in the hallway and handed it to him.

‘I’ve just been searching for a new rental but they are either too expensive or out of the area. But, I have found one in North Dublin and the schools there have halfway decent reviews so…’ you explained and, before you could finish your sentence, Cillian interrupted you.

‘The schools here are much better Y/N. I don’t think you should change Max mid-term; it will put him behind’ Cillian said.

‘Don’t you think I know this?’ you asked frustrated. You were still quite upset about having to move.

‘I will lose the enrolment as soon as I move out of area. Despite, I cannot drive backwards and forwards with work. I barely make pickup time now with the hours I am at the office’ you added just as tears began to build up in your eyes again.

‘Common, sit down’ Cillian said as he sat down on the bed next to you and wrapping his arms around you.

‘I might have a solution’ he said as he wiped your tears away.

‘Go on then’ you said, still sobbing.

‘You and Max could move in with me. That way, we could spend more time together and Max won’t have to change preschool and can start year one with Charlie’ Cillian suggested.

‘Move in with you? Cillian, don’t you think it’s a bit too early for that? We have only been together for 5 weeks’ you said.

‘Yes, but we’ve known each other for a few months now. Seems like a perfectly reasonable timeframe’ Cillian chuckled, making you laugh. You knew that he was being sarcastic. He always had a good sense of humour.

‘Coming from the man who just a couple of months ago didn’t want to settle down’ you smiled.

‘Well, that was before I got myself such a beautiful girlfriend’ Cillian said before giving you a passionate kiss. He could taste the saltiness from your tears but it didn’t seem to bother him.

‘You are crazy, you know that’ you chuckled after your lips drifted apart.

‘Well, you do that to me’ Cillian said while cupping your face with both of his hands.

‘We would, however, need to work on your cooking skills’ he added jokingly, earning him a nudge.

‘Very funny’ you said with a laugh.

‘Seriously though, what do you think?’ Cillian asked.

‘I think Max would really love this idea and I would love nothing more than sharing a bed with you every night. I am just worried that you will get sick of me after a while’ you said.

‘I don’t think I could ever get sick of you Y/N. Just your cooking’ Cillian chuckled before telling you that he loved you.

‘I love you too Cilly’ you said before kissing him passionately.

‘Is that a yes?’ he asked.

‘It’s a yes, thank you’ you said before pushing him back onto the bed.

‘The lunch reservation is at 1pm Y/N’ Cillian said as you hoovered over him.

‘Forget about lunch’ you responded just as you threw your t-shirt to the floor.

However, just as you were getting down to business, your phone rang, not once, but twice.

It was Max’s preschool and you knew that it was urgent.

You quickly returned the call and were told that you must pick up Max as he had a fall on the playground.

You got dressed quickly and drove to preschool to pick up Max. You were advised to go to hospital to see whether Max’s arm was broken.

Being cautious, you followed the teacher’s advice and took Max for an x-ray at hospital. Luckily, it was just a sprain which should resolve with some rest. Unfortunately, by the time you got to leave the hospital it was 6pm. You were there for hours.

Cillian suggested that you and Max come over to his place for dinner. You gladly accepted the offer and this allowed you both to talk to your kids about moving in together.

As you told them, they were beyond excited and Max was quick to arrange a sleepover for the following night.

You and Cillian agreed but, for a change, arranged a babysitter to look after your three boys allowing you to go for dinner and to the movies with your friends which was something you didn’t do very often.

Movie Night

The next evening, Cillian’s sister came over to watch the kids. This was the first time you met someone from Cillian’s family and she was quite excited to get to know you.

Apparently, Cillian had told her and his parents about you already.

After you chatted with her for half an hour, you both made your way to the restaurant.

Unfortunately for you, your friends had invited Jeremy, unaware of the fact that he continued to message you daily much to Cillian’s frustration.

Regardless of this, both you and Cillian were polite as you sat down across from Jeremy and your friends.

‘What did you guys do with the kids tonight?’ your friend Amy asked.

‘My sister is looking after them at my house’ Cillian responded.

‘What about Max?’ she asked.

‘Max is at Cillian’s house as well’ you said, which is when your friend Amy slipped the news. You had already told her that you would be moving in with Cillian just before he starts filming again.

‘Oh well, better to get used to it. Living with 4 boys soon Y/N eh? That shall be interesting’ she said.

Her comment quickly raised a lot of questions, in particular from Jeremy.

‘You really are becoming a sugar baby Y/N aren’t you?’ he said sarcastically, causing Cillian to laugh. He tried very hard to take Jeremy seriously, but it was difficult.

‘A sugar baby? Is that even a word?’ Cillian asked.

‘You know what I mean’ Jeremy said.

‘No, please enlighten me’ Cillian responded.

‘Alright’ Cillian chuckled.

‘It’s none of my business Cillian, but why is that you actors have to get involved with women who are so much younger than you?’ Jeremy said.

‘You are right, it’s none of your business Jeremy’ you said harshly while Cillian tried hard to bite his tongue.

Your friends quickly changed the conversation after that but you couldn’t keep your hands of your boyfriend that evening simply to annoy Jeremy and Cillian played along.

‘I am sorry he’s been a tool’ you whispered into Cillian’s ear as you walked to the movies with your friends.

‘I find it very difficult to remain polite around him’ Cillian said.

‘I know’ you responded just as the theatre opened.

You took your seats and, to your frustration, Jeremy sat down right next to you, causing Cillian to get annoyed.

After what Jeremy had said to you and Cillian, you refused to speak to him and largely ignored him until the movie started.

About twenty minutes into the movie, you started to get rather bored. You couldn’t believe that you had to be there for another two hours. Who decided to choose a two- and half-hour movie in French, with subtitles? Of course, you did, without doing any research.

You looked over to Cillian and noticed that he was disinterested in the movie as well and stopped reading the subtitles. It was evident, he was somewhere in dreamland, probably thinking about how he could annoy Jeremy after his most recent insult.

Noticing your boyfriend’s disinterest in the movie, you reached for his hand, running your hand over the top of his gently. You had his attention now and he gave you a warm smile for all you could tell in the dark theatre.

Taking his hand into yours, you guided it on top of your thighs which is where it sat for a while. Not getting the hint, you arched back into your seat and guided his hand further up beneath your loose cotton skirt.

Whilst you couldn’t see much, you noticed Cillian turn his head towards you. Just as he did, you guided his hand further up your thigh while biting your lip. You tried hard for your eyes not to leave the movie screen.

He finally got the hint and squeezed your thigh gently before handing you your cardigan from your bag.

You placed the cardigan across your lap just as Cillian lifted up your skirt slightly beneath it, giving him better access.

You glanced to your right to ensure that Jeremy, who was sitting next to you, didn’t see what Cillian was doing.

Luckily for you, he was intensely focused on the movie although, no doubt, your boyfriend would have preferred if Jeremy knew what you were doing. After all, Jeremy had just insulted him and it wasn’t long before Cillian and you got together, that Jeremy had told him that he would like to get into your panties.

Just as Cillian’s fingers wandered up your upper inner thigh, you released a sigh and parted your legs slightly while making sure that your cardigan provided enough cover.

By the time Cillian’s fingers reached the apex of your thighs and touched your panties, they were already damp.

You were grateful that the theatre was so dark because your skirt was up to the top of your thighs and draped over Cillian’s hand which would otherwise have been clearly noticeable beneath the thin cardigan.

You were panting with desire, just from Cillian stroking and squeezing your thighs and running his hand over your wet panties.

You slid down a bit in your chair and spread your thighs even more. The adrenaline rush had your inhibitions going out the window.

You could hear a slight chuckle from Cillian as he noticed you pushing your body down against his hand.

Just in that moment, you felt his fingers sliding your panties to the side.

Within seconds, he dipped a finger inside your wet entrance, gathering some of your natural lubrication, then moved it upwards toward your clit.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, hissing quietly. By that time, you both had completely stopped paying attention to the movie.

Cillian started in a slow rhythm, circling your clit a few times, then dipping down shallowly into your entrance, repeating it over and over.

Your fingers were digging into his forearm on one side and onto the armrest on the other.

Your hips were moving of their own accord as you were whimpering quietly as Cillian’s fingers moved in and out of you.

Suddenly, it hit. You groaned quietly, gripping boyfriend’s hand, pushing his finger into you even deeper and grinding your clit against the palm of his hand.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as your orgasm washed over you and you couldn’t help it but let out a shallow moan.

‘Are you alright Y/N?’ Jeremy asked, noticing the sound you made while looking at you with some confusion.

‘Yes, I am fine’ you said bluntly and with a deep breath while Cillian pulled his fingers out of you with a grin on his face.

You handed Jeremy your popcorn before rearranging your skirt and handing Cillian your cardigan. At this point, he needed it more than you as his erection pushed against the zipper of his jeans.

‘Follow me’ you whispered into Cillian’s ear before standing up and excusing yourself, walking past Jeremy.

‘Where are you going?’ Jeremy asked.

‘Bathroom’ you responded. You were still annoyed with him and he wouldn’t get anything from you but stern and short answers.

Cillian waited another minute or two before following you so that he wouldn’t raise any suspicion.

You waited for him in the front of the cinema with a big smile on your face.

‘You choose the worst movies’ Cillian said with a cheeky smile.

‘I have been enjoying it so far’ you smirked before taking his hand and pulling him towards the parents’ room.

‘Y/N, I don’t think this is a good idea’ Cillian said as you locked the door behind you.

‘Relax, it’s 10pm. No one will need this room until tomorrow. We will be safe. Despite, I know you, this won’t go down any time soon unless we get to it’ you smirked as you placed your hands on Cillian’s crotch before crashing your lips onto his with haste.

Without wasting any time, you unbuttoned his jeans and pushed down his zipper before running your hand inside his briefs and stroking his hard cock.

‘You’ve got ten minutes’ you said after breaking the kiss and before turning around, leaning forward over the wash basin.

Within seconds, Cillian lifted up your skirt and pushed down your panties before lining himself up with your wet entrance.

You smiled at him in the mirror as he gently pushed your legs apart and grasped the perky butt cheeks before him.

Cillian pried them apart and stepped forward. He was flush against you and you couldn’t help it but release a soft moan.

His cock slipped between your legs, and the head glided across your sensitive lips.

‘Fuck I want you so much’ you moaned as you pushed back against him in anticipation.

Without words, Cillian pulled back a little and then pushed up into your tight tunnel.

‘Fuck’ you moaned loudly as your walls stretched to fit his length inside you.

‘You got to be quiet’ Cillian whispered from behind you as he began to thrust in and out of you.

He gave you barely a moment to brace yourself before he gripped your hips and pulled back. His cock slipped out almost the whole way before he thrust his hips forward and dived back into your heat.

Cillian set a hard pace, knowing that you didn’t have much time together before someone would get suspicious.

You could hear his laboured breathing behind you as you held onto the basin tightly.

‘God yes’ you moaned quietly as the tip of his cock hit your cervix over and over again.

Cillian smiled at your reaction and reached down to grab your thighs. He spread your legs even wider. By that time, you were on your toes, with no leverage of your own.

‘Don’t stop’ you whispered as you could feel another orgasm build up in your stomach and, within seconds, your walls constricted around him.

You cried out a little too loudly, and your whole body shook as your orgasm slammed into you.

Cillian kept his brutal thrusts up as you rode out the waves of pleasure. Your legs trembled before him and he smiled as you whimpered with every thrust.

The contractions around his cock and your moans sent Cillian over the edge also and, shortly after you came down from your high, he reached his and filled you with his warm cum.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned quietly as he slowly began to relax, his face resting on the back of your shoulders, kissing them gently.

After he came down completely, he pulled out of you and you could feel the mixture of his cum and yours drip down your thighs.

Cillian handed you a paper towel but you declined the offer and simply pulled up your panties.

‘I like to remember this for the rest of the night’ you grinned before giving him another passionate kiss.

Your comment earned you a chuckle but, deep down inside, Cillian liked the thought of knowing that your panties will be wet from his cum for the remainder of the night.

After making sure that no one was around, you left the room together and made your way back to the theatre together.

‘You’ve been gone for a while. Is everything alright?’ Jeremy asked as you sat back down next to him.

‘Yeah, I had to make a phone call’ you said just as Cillian sat back down next to you.

You both had a cheeky grin on your face as you watched the rest of the movie.

‘The movie was great, wasn’t it?’ your friend Alice asked as you left the theatre and Jeremy agreed simply because he knew that you chose it.

‘What did you think about the twist towards the end Cilly?’ she then asked.

‘Yeah, uhm…yeah it was alright’ Cillian said, not knowing what she was talking about.

‘There was a twist?’ you whispered to Cillian as you walked outside the theatre.

‘I think we missed the majority of the plot babe’ Cillian whispered back before taking your hand into his and following the others to the pub.

Jeremy kept starring at you and Cillian and you could notice the frustration on his face. You enjoyed it, a lot.

Later at the pub, Cillian received the usual attention from some young females. It always made you chuckle but it really annoyed Jeremy.

Despite the fact that Cillian enjoyed Jeremy getting annoyed, it soon became too much for him and, after about three drinks, you both decided to leave.

Getting Down to Business

You called a taxi and drove back to Cillian’s house.

‘It’s unbelievable’ you giggled sheepishly and slightly tipsy from the three gin and tonics you had earlier.

‘What is?’ Cillian asked, closing the door behind you.

‘All the attention you get from all of these young women every time we go out’ you said.

‘What can I say, it’s Tommy Shelby Effect’ Cillian laughed.

‘Hmm I think I get it’ you said and, just after this comment, you kissed him passionately just as his sister walked out of the living room.

‘Alright, I am going’ his sister chuckled.

You both thanked her for looking after the children and made your way to the shower. You both smelled like beer and popcorn.

Just as you got into the large shower together and were talking about the evening, Cillian couldn’t help it but complain about Jeremy.

‘You know, I am yours Cillian!’ you said as you ran your hands over his chest.

‘You are mine, are you?’ he chuckled in response to your comment which reminded him on his script for Season 5 of Peaky Blinders.

‘Yes…’ you whispered into his ear just before biting his earlobe gently while the hot water ran down in between you.

Cillian’s hands soon moved from your back down to your naked butt cheeks while his lips kissed the bare skin on your neck.

‘I love you Y/N’ he said in between kisses.

‘I love you too Cillian and I want you to fuck me as if you own me’ you whispered. ‘Take me the way you want to’ you added seductively.

‘You’ve been watching too much of this TV show’ Cillian said with a chuckle, referring to a new TV documentary series that you were watching on Netflix about BDSM.

‘It’s intriguing though, isn’t it?’ you asked running your hands over Cillian’s chest and down in between his legs. He grew hard almost instantly as you touched him.

Your face was inches away from his and you could see pure hunger and lust aflame in his eyes as you were stroking him gently. His warm breath fanned over your face like an aphrodisiac and the want in his eyes was intoxicating.

He remembered the last episode of the documentary quite well and grabbed your hair at the back of your head gently, causing the hot water to run down your breasts.

You bit your lip with excitement, fire building up in your eyes.

‘You really want to try this don’t you?’ Cillian asked, causing you to nod.

‘Alright’ he sighed with a smile and, with his free arm, he pushed you onto your knees almost instantly.

That’s it, exactly what you wanted.

He pulled on your hair, making you look up at him while you were biting your lips.

You suddenly felt a wretch in your stomach. Cillian wasn’t normally that forceful with you and you knew that, for him, it was a roleplay more than anything. Being with an actor clearly had its perks.

‘Is this what you want?’ he asked, causing you to nod again.

With his hand still firmly in your hair, he guided your mouth towards his hard cock.

You open your mouth willingly and, within one thrust, the head of his hard cock hits the back of your throat, making you gag.

You didn’t even try to pull away and he slowly and deeply began to thrust in and out of your mouth, giving your barely enough time to breath.

You gave into his rhythm as the warm water was running over your back.

‘God, your mouth feels amazing’ Cillian moaned, knowing that you enjoy it when he is talking to you while were intimate. You loved the sound of his voice.

Just as you got used to the sensation of being forced up and down his cock, he began to tweak one of your erect nipples with his free hand, causing you to moan around him.

‘Good girl, keep going’ Cillian said with a slight smirk as he toys with your nipple, pulling and rolling it between his fingers.

The pit of your stomach was set aflame and your thighs were slick with your juices.

With his cock in your mouth and your nipples being aroused, you are under sensory overload.

As he continued to thrust in and out of your mouth, you closed your eyes trying to concentrate on the raw pleasure that was radiating from your body in waves.

‘Look at me’ he demanded, causing you to open your eyes again and dig your hands into his thighs as he kept going.

‘That’s it’ he moaned, thrusting into your mouth a few more times before pulling you away from his throbbing cock and your mouth comes off with a satisfying pop.

Some small tears were running down your cheeks, your mouth sore from opening so widely and your hair was still in his hands. He roughly wiped away the saliva around your mouth and wrapped his hand around your throat gently.

You looked up into his blue eyes and wanted nothing more than for him to take you, fuck you hard.

‘Common, let’s take this to the bedroom’ he said as he began to notice the water getting cold.

‘Yes sir’ you winked, earning him a chuckle.

‘You defiantly are serious, aren’t you?’ Cillian said as you dried each other off. He was slightly out of his comfort zone but decided to play along as he could see the desire in your eyes. You were by far the most adventurous and kinky woman he’s ever been with.

Moments later, you made your way to Cillian’s bedroom.

‘I don’t think so’ Cillian said firmly as you reached the edge of the bed.

With his hand on your throat gently again and the other on your waist, he guided you towards the large reading desk in the bedroom.

‘Turn around’ he instructed and, as soon as you complied, he pushed you down onto the table.

Just as you your face leaned against the cold wood, he took both of your arms and secured both your hands behind your back.

Electricity shot down your spine as you tried to struggle out of his grasp teasingly.

You were completely under his control just as you wanted.

He put your two wrists wrapped around one hand and with the other, slowly traced a finger up your inner thigh.

You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning too loudly.

Cillian took his time, exploring every inch of your thighs and ass.

‘So sexy’ Cillian said as his fingers brushed against your wet folds, causing you to whimper.

He continued to run his fingers up and down your pussy, teasing to put his fingers in.

You whined and struggled against his grasp, your wetness started trailing down your thighs.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as Cillian slowly eased his fingers inside, scissoring his fingers as he went.

‘Shh’ Cillian said, knowing that you had to remain quiet with the boys in the next room.

Your mind went blank as pleasure shot through your nerves, spreading like wildfire.

Cillian’s fingers swirled around inside of you languidly, leaving no space unexplored and, moments later, he brushed against your g-spot causing you to jerk.

‘Stay still’ he said as he pressed his body down, immobilizing yours.

He knew very well that you liked to squirm when he reached your sweet spot as the intensity was too overpowering.

This time, you wouldn’t get away, no matter how hard you try.

‘Oh god Cillian, please’ you yelped, the feeling of his fingers on your g-spot being too much for you to handle.

But Cillian wouldn’t let you squirm away and you soon learned that you had to just give in, surrender to him.

But, just as you relaxed and could feel your orgasm approach, he pulled his fingers out of you.

‘Did I say you could come?’ he teased as he placed his fingers into your mouth, making you taste your wet juices.

‘No sorry’ you said, hoping that he would put his fingers back inside of you.

‘Sorry what?’ Cillian asked sheepishly.

‘Sorry Sir’ you grinned just before you ran your tongue along the length of his fingers.

‘Good girl’ he whispered just as he trailed his fingers back down towards your wet entrance.

Within seconds, they entered you again and continued where they left off.

You tried hard not to come right away and, after several more minutes, you couldn’t control it any longer.

‘Cillian please, can I come?’ you moaned, your walls already beginning to contract around his fingers.

‘No Y/N, you cannot’ he said, withdrawing his fingers once again, pulling your head back on your hair and kissing you passionately.

Just as he pushed you back down, you could feel him line himself up with your entrance.

Your hands were still pinned behind your back as he pressed the tip of his cock into you slowly. Your walls clench instinctively.

‘Don’t you dare come until I’ve given you permission’ he murmured into your ear as he pushes into you torturously slow.

‘I promise I won’t come without permission’ you said as you could feel Cillian’s body against yours and his hands gripping over your hands pinned behind your back and your hair.

‘Good girl’ he whispered as he continued to push inside you slowly until he was completely inside.

You tried to wriggle so you could adjust to his size, but Cillian held you in place. He slowly moved out until only the tip remained inside and thrusts back in deeply.

You moaned loudly into the table as he continued his rhythm, fucking you slowly but deeply. Your mind blanks, pleasure rocking through your body.

You could feel him tighten his grip over your hands as he slowly pulls out and slams into you, eliciting a yelp.

‘Yes, oh god, yes’ you moaned loudly as he began to pick up the pace, knocking you almost breathless.

Your moans caused Cillian to place one of his hands over your mouth gently. You were way too loud.

You felt like a wound-up toy, yearning to be released from the tension. With every thrust, you come closer to your orgasm. He's hitting you fast and deeply, but not enough to send your over the edge. You whine and whimper, weakly struggling against his body. You are so close, teetering on a cliff.

‘Please’ you moaned into his, desperate for your release.

‘Please what?’ Cillian asked as he thrusts in and out of you and removing his hand for just one moment to allow you to speak.

‘Please let me come’ you responded.

‘You will need to do better than that’ Cillian said as he thrusts into you even deeper.

‘I do anything, please’ you moaned, your walls beginning to clench around him.

‘Anything? Hmm, alright, that seems like a fair deal’ Cillian said picking up the speed.

With those words, you let go. Pleasure rocked through your body like a wave.

You tried to fight the feeling of falling and flying at the same time as your orgasm washed over you.

Cillian moaned at the same time as he felt your tight walls close around his cock and, with three more thrusts, he came inside of you.

You could feel his cock throb inside of you as your legs shake from the powerful orgasm.

Just as you both came down from your high, he slowly pulled out of you, causing some of his cum to leak out.

He released your hands and helped you up from the desk.

You turned around to face him and, with one of your hands, you reached in between your legs collecting some of his cum before licking it from your fingers suggestively.

‘I enjoyed this’ you smirked, causing Cillian to stare at you in disbelieve.

‘You are naughty, aren’t you?’ he chuckled just before giving you a kiss.

‘Yes I am’ you smirked before you both made your way to the bed.

By that time you were exhausted.

You curled up in each other’s arms and shared some gentle moments together.

‘I am looking forward to sleeping in this bed with you every night’ you said.

‘So do I’ Cillian responded, before turning off the light.

Morning After

The next morning, you got woken up by the smell of pancakes and three missed calls.

Your father had tried to call you to congratulate Max on his recent soccer medal.

You returned the call and handed the phone to Max while you joined Cillian in the kitchen for a coffee. Just as you were drinking your coffee, you listened to Max speak to his grandfather on speaker.

‘So how have you been Max?’ grandpa asked.

‘Good poppy, we are having pancakes’ Max said.

‘Mum made pancakes? Do they taste any good?’ grandpa laughed.

‘No Cillian made pancakes. Mum and I are moving to his house soon and then we can have pancakes every weekend’ Max said.

‘Cillian? Who is Cillian?’ grandpa asked.

‘Mum’s boyfriend’ Max responded, causing you to choke on your coffee.

‘Can you please put your mother on the phone’ he said.

To be continued…..

‘

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine

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alch3mic · 3 years

Note

Beast or Prince's darling discovering their yandere tendencies? I'd love to see some drama go down

Strange how the twisting shadows of night made the estate halls feel so.. unfamiliar.

Those once pristine and well decorated walls that lured you into the estate so long ago now looked tainted by the darkness scrawled upon their surface, while the tile flooring felt even colder beneath your bare feet as you traversed the dim halls with nothing but a cellphone flashlight and the rain to keep you company.

Thunder and lightning crackled outside distantly, enlightening the hallways briefly in brilliant white flashes before plunging them back into the depths of obscurity. It, along with the deafening sounds of rain pattering against the windows, was enough to make your heart nearly pound right out of your poor chest.

.....

Was this some kind of classic horror movie set up or what?

Sheesh!

Talk about cliché! The only thing that was missing from this scene was some kind of terrible scary monster or knife wielding psycho lurking around the corner, and then you’d be the star of the next box office thriller!

At least the thought was funny enough to make you chuckle before another flash of lightning and crackling of thunder made you nearly jump out of your own skin.

...

.....Maybe.. you should’ve stayed in bed..

The thought of turning your butt right back around and just returning to your room was rather tempting.. but..

You had three burning questions in your mind that you just knew would keep you up all night if you turned back now.

Number one, what was that loud crashing sound that had woken you out of your dreams? You’re at least very certain it wasn’t thunder because the storm only started a few minutes after you left your bed.

Number two, why was the power out? Never, in all of your time of staying here, had the lights ever gone out like this. Papyrus once told you they ran on their own line out here on the estate with their own generators, separate from the city grid just so they could keep things on in case of a city wide power outage. So.. why? Why was the power out, even before this crazy storm even started? What happened?

And lastly.. number three..

....Where was Sans?

He had bunked with you in your room today after a late night of playing some video games together, but when you suddenly awoke he was... gone.

That had concerned you, because he wasn’t there when the crashing sound happened, which meant he left sometime before the storm started. It wasn't until you found his phone still placed upon your nightstand that your worries grew. He always kept his phone on him..

Now straddled with anxiety you gathered yourself before heading out in search of your boyfriend.

Just where in the world did he go?

.....

You checked your cell phone again.

...Still no service.

Dammit.

Great.. juuuust great.

...Maybe Sans' would..?

Nope.

That was a bust too.

You let out a huff of annoyance, even trying to wave his phone above your head in the hopes of getting a single bar of service, but it was to no avail.

There was another moment where you looked back to the hall you had just been wandering through, wondering if you really should just head back.. but..

It was foreign now.

You in all honesty had no idea where you were.

Like, you weren't even sure if you were in the west wing anymore, the once bright halls becoming like an endless labyrinth or darkness and spooky noises.

....

..Well, looks like your only choice now was to press on in hopes you’d find one of the brothers. The estate really was big, but they had to be somewhere..!

...Right..?

.........Right.

So onward you walked.

......

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Even the soft steps of your bare feet made eerie echoes that resounded with the quiet hum or rain.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Another flash of lightning and crackle of thunder, another small scare.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A left..? Or maybe a right? Well that flower pot looked familiar at least. ...Maybe..? K-kind of?

.....

Alright maybe you were a little scared now.

How could you not be!?

Everything felt tense and haunting, your anxiety spiraling the more you wandered around in the dark! Maybe this was just a dream.. a weirdly realistic dream.. and you’d wake up to find yourself still nicely snuggled in bed with your bone friend all safe and soun-

Wait.

.....That was..

Oh! You recognized those doors! They led out to the garden!

That sinking feeling in your chest was replaced with a sense of hope as you finally gained a sense of your surroundings, taking a few hopeful steps forward.

BANG.

You nearly screamed as the double doors out to the garden swung open accompanied by a flash of lightning. Thankfully the light faded just in time for you to see..

"Sans!" you called out as your skeletal boyfriend stepped inside and shut the doors behind him.

You quickly approached, stopping just a few feet away.

"You're...!" you inhaled sharply, gazing upon him. "...Soaking wet!"

And also dressed.

No longer was he adorned in one of his cute sets of pajamas, but a clean white button up, dark pants, heavy boots and thick work gloves, all now sticking to his bones from being soaked by the rain.

A deep sigh came out from your boyfriend and he shook his head, drops of water twinkling as they caught the light before splattering to the floor, while other droplets were just encouraged to finish their run down his face.

"HEH. IT'S REALLY IS RAINING SOMETHING FIERCE," he muttered lightly. "I'M THANKFUL TO SEE THAT DAMNED SKY TUCKED AWAY SINCE IT'S BEEN SO SUNNY THESE PAST FEW WEEKS BUT.. WHAT TERRIBLE TIMING."

You closed the distance between you two, stopping once more right before him and looked up and down in worry.

"Are you-" you began, but he merely reached out to gently catch your chin in his gloved hand.

It felt wet and cold, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'M ALRIGHT DEAREST," Sans chuckled, his eyelights roaming over your face.

"..Really?"

The ever so familiar hearts in his eyelights seemed to grow a bit bigger as he looked at you, his hand leaving your chin to carefully brush a few strands of hair.

"REALLY," he confirmed.

You found yourself shivering once more as his cold gloved fingers lightly lingered on your cheek before he fully retracted his hand and began pulling his gloves off.

"AND WHAT ABOUT YOU MY DEAR? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? IT'S QUITE DANGEROUS TO BE WANDERING AROUND SO LATE ESPECIALLY IN THE DARK."

"..I'm fine," you said, your hand reaching inside your pocket to pull out his phone. "I just.. woke up to a crashing noise and you weren't there. Then I saw your phone and it started raining like crazy and the lights wouldn't turn on so I got.."

You flushed a bit when he smiled at your ramblings.

"..Worried."

"HEH. THOUGHT I DO APPRECIATE YOUR CONCERNS MY SWEET, YOU SHOULD NEVER WORRY ABOUT ME," he chuckled, taking his phone. "I'M HERE TO PROTECT YOU, ALWAYS."

He didn't even give the device a look over before stashing it into his wet pocket, shoving his gloves into another one and began rolling up his sleeves and loosening his collar.

A strange silence fell for a moment as you both stood there, a small flame being ignited in your chest as you watched him move.

"..Sans?"

"YES, DEAREST?"

"Is everything really okay?" you asked quietly, your hand scrunching up the fabric at the end of your pajama t-shirt.

"OF COURSE!" he said, giving you one heck of a cute smile. "...WELL, I MEAN.. THE POWER IS STILL OUT AND I AM SOAKED TO THE BONE, BUT YES EVERYTHING IS FINE MY LOVE."

....

"...You're lying to me, aren't you..?"

....

Sans didn't say another word, instead just keeping that impossibly sweet smile swept over his features as he stopped unbuttoning his collar and looked at you for a moment.

His silence was calculated, just like his expression and his movements. For he knew that if he spoke anything more, you'd catch on more to the underlying anger in his tone.

It was the exact kind of anger that always stuck around after something happened.

You've.. gotten better at hearing it over the months that you've become closer to him.

At picking up the emotions he hid behind that princely charm and smiles.

It's how you could tell that things were absolutely not alright.

That he was lying to you.

...Again.

Once again you were being kept in the dark about something.

Once again Sans was covering your eyes from seeing clearly.

Why..?

Even though the two of you had grown so close. Even though you've swore to him to the moon and back that he could trust you. Even though you promised..!

Why does he still..!?

.....

He offered his hand to you, catching your eye before you looking back up at him. That smile of his turned just a bit fonder, and he merely tilted his head in a quiet encouragement for you to take his offer.

Stand your ground.

Don't let him do this!

Not again!

....

Quietly you took his hand, the feeling of his bones damp and clammy against your warmed skin from having your fists clenched so tightly before.

He bent in, and placed a tender kiss upon your check, making you shiver from the cold water that trickled on to your neck and shoulder.

Then he pulled back out, giving you one more loving smile before taking a step, and then another..

And you did the same, following as he led you away from those double doors out to the garden and back into the blackened halls from whence you came.

His boots squeaked against the marbled floorings and loose raindrops continued to descend down his skull, followed by the soft patter of your feet as he led you without another word.

...Again.

Again you were.. too afraid to say anything. The words came bubbling up your throat, threatening to break free at any moment.

But you kept your mouth shut tight.

You were afraid....

Of what the truth might be.

Of this fairytale that you so desperately sought and now finally had.. falling to pieces.

Of who your Prince Charming might really be.

Was he really the soft, sweet and lonely skeleton you saw beyond all of the make believe? Or was he..?

.....

Another distant flash and strike of thunder, and once again the halls were enlightened.

Your gaze dipped only for a second from Sans' back, enough to catch a bare glimpse of something before it became dark once more.

....

That..

Couldn't have been right..

..Right?

Something like that... shouldn't be...

.....

..No..

Your eyes were certainly not deceiving you.

You know what you saw.. without question, even in the passing light.

For at the very edges of Prince's dampened white shirt.

...Was red.

"DEAREST."

"Y-yes?"

"JUST REMEMBER, I LOVE YOU VERY, VERY MUCH... AND THAT EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT."

check out my other writings | feel free to drop me a ko-fi!

#you should've known better #to leave your room so late at night #but sometimes your curiosity and concern get the better of you #it'll be alright #prince!sans #sans #undertale #underswap #underswap sans #us sans #sans x reader #reader insert #undertale au #drabble #yandere #yandere sans #wickedtale #alch!writes #anon

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arsonsamruby · 3 years

Text

sam winchester pride

i have a new fic <3 hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

it’s s1 sam coming out to dean. was THIS close to making the ending sam ugly crying alone but even though dean Is like. microaggressions boy he’s not going to be a bitch about it all that’s out of character. i think he does try very hard to support sam. like he’s not an ally but probably because he doesn’t really know what an ally is.

anyway wtf am i even saying.

___ Sam has a headache. Dean comes by, ruffles his hair, slouches into the couch. Sam licks his lips, looking away from the screen. It has loud, bright cartoons on it and in the prickling sense of dread he’s carrying with him, the stimulation is too much.

Half of the headache is from a hard hit he took to the head, lingering pain. The other half is stress and dehydration. Unless beer counts as hydration, then in which- well, he’s covered. The screen of the television is cracked through; it’s playing Friends reruns.

He stands abruptly.

“Sammy, I swear to God, if you start pacing again-” Dean warns, throwing a pillow at him. Sam ducks it, somehow. His body takes up half the room. It’s hard to find space.

He can’t help it. His feet get itchy, his legs pull tight, and it’s nice. Nice, to put in his earphones and walk around for a little while. “I’ll go out to the parking lot, promise. I won’t bother you.”

He smiles slightly at Dean, but his brother isn’t much looking.

The parking lot of the motel has the sticky feeling underfoot of summer heat on asphalt, and sweat. The crumbling pollen and flowers from the trees have made his half-present allergies flare up. As a kid, Sam would have allergy seasons that ran out of sync with everyone else’s.

Go three years without a single cold, until one awful summer would come and he’d sneeze and sneeze and sneeze. He recalls: Oregon, in a rainy patch. It had been a relief to wash all the yellow pollen away with the weekly downpour. Another thing about Oregon, he’d had a best friend there. A girl.

Huh. He tries to tuck his smile away, but it comes through like the sun through clouds. Sam looks dumb, doesn’t he? Some goofball pacing around a parking lot and smiling to himself.

After about ten minutes, maybe more, his pace slows. The scenery is getting too humid. He wants to roll back into bed, into those cool sheets.

“Sammy? Is that you?”

Sam kicks his shoes off into the dirty corner. Dean’s left a bootprint on the floor there. If Sam was looking for a fight, he’d say something. “It’s me.”

“You got a call. Someone left a voicemail. For you.”

His voice is sharp, pounding hail on cement. “A call?” Sam replies dumbly.

Dean nods his head over to the answering machine. “I’ll put it on for you.”

Sam’s heart begins to slow to a rolling stretch of highway. The cars moving across it are few and far between and his breath is short and dangerous.

“Sammy?” The effusive warmth dies down after the nickname, realizing Dean’s heard it through. The voicemail, the nickname. “You gave me this number the other day. Outside the Jewel Osco?”

He laughs. It crackles over the phone in a friendly way. Friendly the way he kissed tiny little butterflies onto Sam’s collarbones, the way his house was cool in the summer night.

“I guess you’re a big-time developer and all so I’m not sure if you even care. But I have the jacket you left with me? The other night?”

He clears his throat. “If you want it back, you can drop by.” The voicemail ends.

“You leave your jacket at your friend’s house, Sammy? Come on, it’s just like you’re little again. You want me to pick it up for you?”

Sam realizes two things: Dean hasn’t caught what the message means, and Sam wishes he would have.

“Dean?”

“Mmm?”

Sam has never been able to cry with dry eyes. He can’t hide the shaky undercurrent to his voice. His eyelids feel like cement but he keeps staring at Dean. A flush of fear is blooming high on his cheeks.

“Me and that guy, we’re not just friends. Or whatever.”

Sam went calling for information, at his house. Said he was a real estate developer, even though the back of his neck went red with the obvious lie. The suit was cheap and he was young. He’d gotten the information and then this guy, his name is Jude, had kissed him. Sam left the suit jacket there. He’s glad he’s getting it back, all things considered.

He still doesn’t know what possessed him to hand over his number after buying peanut butter and sandwich bread two days later. A crack in his self control, maybe.

“What do you mean…” Dean isn’t making jokes, at least. Sam squints hard at the floor. His head feels like a matchbox. Being struck over and over again. His headache is back, erupting with a vengeance.

“Sam, is it something- Dad did? Is it something I did? To make you, uh.”

Sam shakes his head, sighing deeply. He wants to be a bitch about it and spit out something sarcastic. “What do you think you could have done?”

Dean shakes his head. Murmurs, “I don’t know,” almost that Sam can’t hear him. “I guess you’re the type, though, Sammy.” Sam knows what he means by that. “As long as you don’t go around falling in love with some starry eyed dude. We still have to find Dad.”

“About that. Don’t tell him.” Sam pointedly raises his eyebrows. Dean doesn’t have a great record of choosing- choosing him, his secrets that he keeps tight in his fists. He doesn’t have a record of letting any opportunity to be a good son slip by.

“Sure, sure.” Dean frowns. “Hey, what about Jess? Did you lead some poor chick on up until-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Sam’s hands are suddenly shaking. Dean leans back. He’s not the shrinking type, his shoulders stay up and guarded. “I’m not gay, I’m- I’m something else. Both, you know?” The inside of his cheek is bitten raw, he can taste the fleshier bits coming alive.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Sammy.”

The telling was easy; now it’s muddier. Sam wades in anyway. “Who here is the expert, you or me?” The sick dread has risen in his stomach and is now lapping at his sodden brain, pulling him under. It’s hot as hell out but he pulls the blankets over his legs.

“Sorry. Bad take.”

“I loved her-” Dean doesn’t like hearing about Jess and Sam cuts himself off.

“Never mind. I’m going to go get more beer.” Dean leaves.

Sam looks between the ugly green blankets, the TV still on, the white, unearthly light seeping in through every crack. When he told Jess, she lit up with it, went on to ask him questions, run her fingers through his shower-damp hair and let him talk.

Dean bursts through the door. “Sammy, I really do want to say- thank you for telling me. You wanna talk about it more, we can go get your girly coffee drink and we can talk about whatever.”

The aimless tears in Sam’s eyes finally come to the surface. “Oh, come on,” Sam groans. “You don’t have to act like I’m that-”

Dean interrupts him. “Here, Sammy. Here. The way I see it, you’re like Chandler Bing now.”

Sam blinks at him. “Dean, he’s not-”

“Well, maybe not in the show, but everyone knows he’s gay anyway. You’re like Chandler Bing. If you want to go with me and get a coffee, uh, tell me about the guy action you got at Stanford, I’ll be your Joey.”

Sam swipes the back of his hand across his eyes. If tears were blood he would look like a murder victim. Dean approaches him nervously. “Seriously.” He wrestles Sam into a tight hug, holding him for a long few minutes.

“Do we still have painkillers around? I have a headache.” The walls (brown wood and decades out of date) are no longer closing in on him under oppressive heat and thoughts of Jess. Dean isn’t mad. Just- just Dean.

Life returns to normal.

#sam winchester #my fic #dean winchester #if you tag this as ship i'm physically ending you i'm killing you with bare hands #i WILL kill you #spnprideweek

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karlajoyner · 4 years

Text

Tease (Charlie Gillespie x Reader)

A/n: Hey guys so this was requested. I hope you guys enjoy it! And send in your own request!

Requested by: @universefangirl (Tumblr)

Warnings: Smut (18+)

————

I sighed typing away frustratedly at my computer attempting to get my work done for the night. Taking another sip of my wine I looked over to the couch to see my boyfriend scrolling through his phone.

"You know? It must be nice being a paid actor during a pandemic" I spoke catching his attention. A grin began to form on his face as he stood up making his way over to me in the kitchen.

"It has its perks. Can't say the same about you baby" He teased rubbing my shoulders. I rolled my eyes continuing to type away.

"You know you could take a break" He whispered getting near my ear.

"I can't. If I don't get this is by tonight I'm so fired"

"Fine. I'm just gonna go live for a bit. And relax afterwards. I'm pretty busy tomorrow"

"Yes Charles getting to sleep in and doing a live interview late afternoon sounds so exhausting. Meanwhile I have a term paper for English due and on top of that I have to do two more sets of these for work" I spoke holding up my papers.

"For your information I'm going on a hike tomorrow morning. Then I'm going live" He said another deep breath leaving my mouth.

"Aww baby. It's okay"

"Is it though?" I asked frustrated at his lack of sympathy. I love him and all but he seems to forget that his totally normal girlfriend works a 9 to 5 and still goes to college. And as much as I appreciate the times he said he could put in a good word for me with Kenny. I refused to be exposed in the spotlight more than I already was for being his girlfriend.

"I'm sure you can do it. You always do"

"Your right. I'm amazing. I don't know what you'd do without me" I joked trying to lighten up my own mood more than his.

"I don't either. I'd miss you too much" He said placing kisses just below my ear.

"Hmm really? Care to find out Gillespie?" I asked biting my lip. This was my opportunity to get him back where it hurt.

"What do you mean?" I smirked continuing to do my work. Without another word leaving my mouth.

“Baby. What do you mean?" He asked again standing up.

I stayed quiet as he repeated the question a few more times finishing up what I was doing. I had to get through all my stuff for school and work tonight if I wanted tomorrow to go as planned.

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping. Glancing over at the clock I smiled. On schedule. I moved over to the empty spot beside me with a grin. Charlie was really in for it today.

I quickly got up making the bed when my phone suddenly dinged. I smiled seeing it was a good miring text from Charlie himself.

“Good morning my love. Just finished my hike. On my way home with coffee.

“I'll see you in a bit baby" I read aloud. I smiled at the cute detail before continuing on with my plan.

Changing into yoga pants and a sports bra I made my way to the living room setting up for a morning workout. Something I rarely got to do since my second term started and I became ambushed with work. It'd been nearly half an hour before I heard the front door open. The smell of coffee carrying itself through the small apartment.

"Baby your awake" He stated taking in my appearance. No doubt the sweat droplets on my body making me look shiny as hell.

"Yeah. I finished all my work last night so I figured I'd have a day to myself. I did a morning work out and I'm gonna do more things I haven't done in a while" I smiled innocently.

"Mmm am I one of those things by any chance?" He smirked pulling me close. Placing a kiss to my sweaty forehead.

"You wish. Actually I invited y/b/n over. We were thinking of painting to clear our minds"

"Oh but you can't paint looking like this. So sweaty. So wet" He whispered rubbing circles on my hips.

"Yeah I'll probably hop in the shower in a bit" I grinned before pulling away to go finish my workout.

“You know I need to shower too. What if we hop in together? To save water"

"Um I don't know. Can you keep your hands to yourself Gillespie?" I asked bending down in front of him to stretch.

"I can't answer that" He growled coming to stand behind me. As soon I felt his hands on my waist I stood up turning around to face him.

"Tsk Tsk Tsk" I whispered pulling back.

“What baby? Why won't you let me touch you?" He whined.

"Because it's my only free day and I'm going to enjoy it babe" I said placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips before walking away.

"Where are you going?" He called.

"To shower"

"Can I join?"

"If you can keep your hands away" I heard him groan as I shut the bathroom door behind me. Giggling to myself I entered the shower washing myself down.

Purposely forgetting to bring in an outfit. Knowing Charlie didn't enter for a reason I called out for him after I was clean.

"Charlie!" I shouted waiting for him to come in.

"Yes baby?"

"Can you bring me some clothes please?”I asked peeking my head out the curtain.

"Can I touch you?" He asked.

"Uh how about no"

"Then no" He said hoping that would get a reaction out of me. It didn't.

"Fine. If you insist" I spoke shutting the water off. Within a matter of seconds I exited the shower. Feeling his eyes piercing through me.

"Close your mouth. Your gonna catch flies" I said wrapping my towel around my body.

"Mm baby you don't know what your doing to me" He moaned out.

"I don't? Or do I?" I asked opening the door further so I could slip past him. Heading to the bedroom I smiled to myself knowing it was working.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Rushing over I peeked through the hole to see y/b/n standing there. Thankful both of our COVID tests came out negative I smiled welcoming her inside.

"Hey y/n/n"

"Y/b/n!" I shouted happy to see her after so long.

"So how's he doing?" She asked knowing all about my plan.

"Not good. I love him I really do but paybacks a bitch. I can't wait til his interview" I smirked walking her to my room.

I was quick to change into a cute matching set with only one of his band shirts layering on top.

"Wow. He's gonna be drooling"

"That's the plan. Thanks for doing this again"

"Its no problem. What are best friends for? Just promise me you'll give me every detail tomorrow. You know after he breaks"

"I promise" I said as we both giggled exiting the room. We made our way towards the living room pulling out the supplies she had brought over for our eventful day.

Y/b/n and I enjoyed each other's company for a while. Catching up on our new quarantine rituals. It wasn't long before Charlie came out of the restroom completely shirtless with only a towel wrapped around his waist. I bit my lip coming back to reality when y/b/n bumped my shoulder.

"Y/b/n. You're here" Charlie said running his fingers through his hair. He knew what he was doing.

"Yeah. I came to spend time with my best friend. Did you see her today by the way?" Y/b/n said taking my hand and playfully spinning me around. I chuckled at her antics realizing she'd done it on purpose to give him a full view of what I was wearing. If something drove Charlie Gillespie crazy. It was me wearing his band tees.

"I didn't. Thank you for that" Charlie spoke sending daggers through me.

"I hope you don't mind. I barrowed your shirt to paint. I can change if you wa-"

"No! No no baby keep it on. It looks amazing on you" He said a small smile playing at his lips.

"Thanks baby. When's your interview?"

"In like 20 minutes. I'm gonna go get ready"

"Sounds good. We'll be on the balcony painting. That good?"

"Of course baby" I smiled walking out on the hard cemented area placing down our stuff.

We specifically chatted those 20 minutes waiting for Charlie to come out of the bedroom.

"I'm going live" Charlie called through the screen door.

"Okay good luck" I called back. I saw him send me a wink before setting up his phone where the sun was hitting him perfectly.

"This is perfect" I whispered to y/b/n as we pulled out our paints.

"I know. I can't believe he set himself up right there" She whispered back. I giggled pulling out the pastel pink from the bag.

"Charlie!" I heard the interviewer shout. My boyfriend clearly estatic.

"Hey man what's up?"

"What's up with me? What's up with you? Your our first cast member of the day. So for starters we wanna know what's up with you?"

"Nothing much man. I mean I've been writing a lot recently"

"Oh yeah can we be expecting any music coming out soon away from the Julie and the Phantoms band?"

"Uh no. That's kind of where I'm at right now which is amazing you know? Working with such great cast and bandmates it's great"

"Sounds like it. So where do you get inspiration from during this whole new situation we're in? It must get boring"

"Uh it does at times when I'm alone. Which is rare since I've been quarantining with my girlfriend. She's amazing company and overall my biggest inspiration"

"Girlfriend? Are you guys at her place or yours?"

"Hers man. I didn't wanna disturb her peace but she insisted and it's just been amazing. I love her" He said my heart fluttering at his words. I looked over at y/b/n to see her smirking at me.

"What about your cast? Do they know her?"

"Oh yeah. Like my family, they absolutely love her which is great. You know their approval means a lot to me so it's nice that everyone gets along with her just fine"

"That's good to hear so moving back to your music" The interviewer continued changing subjects. With his wholesome answers I almost felt bad denying him my touch today. And almost felt bad what I'd be doing next.

Almost.

After about 15 minutes I began to laugh at nothing signalling it was go time. I glanced back see Charlie staring up at us. Clearly trying to focus on the interviewer speaking. Clearly.

"Stop!" I whisper shouted at my best friend who splattered pain on me. I repeated her actions earning a giggle from the girl.

Suddenly I felt a cold sensation hit me. She had thrown our water cup at me in return I splattered more paint towards her. Trying to stay as quiet as possible.

"No yeah thanks man. I had fun" I heard Charlie say. Signifying the interview was nearly over.

"No thank you. Charlie Gillespie everyone. Up next Owen Patrick Joyner!" The man shouted before the living room went silent.

"Done?" I asked turning back to look indoors. The door screen being the only thing between us and the indoors.

"Yeah. What happened?"

"I don't know y/b/n what did happened?" I asked the girl in a teasing voice. Moving back slowly letting the sun hit my body. The white shirt on my body becoming see through.

"Cover up baby"

"Y/b/n doesn't mind right babe?" I asked her.

"Nope. We've been best friends forever Charles. I know her inside out. I also know you should probably get changed out of that"

"Or I could just do this" I replied removing the shirt from my body altogether. I watched as Charlie's jaw dropped in surprised.

"Cute set. Victoria secret?"

"Pink" I answered walking into the living room.

"Huh. I would've never guessed. Oh shoot it's already 5:00 o'clock? I should get going. I have to get to Dylan's house. Do you need help cleaning up?"

"No!" Charlie shouted before I could answer.

"No. We've got it y/b/n. No worries"

"Thanks guys" She smiled pulling me into a hug then Charlie. I watched as he walked her towards the door.

Not knowing which one was rushing more him or her.

"Thanks for coming!" I called out grabbing some paper towels to wipe off the water still on my body.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Charlie asked once the door shut.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"You've been such a bad girl"

“Me?" I asked looking behind me jokingly knowing I was the only one here.

"Teasing me all damn day. Having y/b/n come over to be a cock block. And then pulling that little stunk during my interview"

"I don't know what your going on about Charles. I didn't know y/b/n name was gonna- Ahhh" I squealed feeling his strong arms wrap around me from behind lifting me up.

"Charlie!" I shouted as he carried me towards the bedroom.

"Yes?" He questioned when he put me down on the bed gently.

"Seriously?" I asked ask he removed his shirt.

"Seriously" He confirmed moving in to kiss me. It was gentle at first but that gentleness soon became hunger. From both ends we fought for dominance. Tired of fighting I gave in as he pushed me further up the bed.

"Charlie please" I pleaded beginning to palm him through his jeans. Feeling him get harder by the second.

"Tsk tsk tsk. Not yet" He whispered making me whine. He chuckled before speaking once more in a hushed tone.

"Now are you gonna tell daddy exactly why you teased him all day?" I groaned knowing there was no way of getting out of this one.

"Nope" I said hoping to move on.

"Mm I don't like the sound of that" He said removing his jeans. I moaned seeing his full body. He was too hot for his own good.

"Now are you gonna tell me or should I return the punishment" I internally groaned not in the mood to be teased.

"I-I just feel like you forget sometimes that I have so much on my plate. And maybe sometimes you could be insensitive about it" I muttered the last part hoping he wouldn't hear. But judging by his features softening he had heard every word.

"I make you feel that way?" he asked caressing my cheek.

"Not all the time but yeah sometimes"

"Baby. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" He mumbled placing soft kisses on my lips.

"I guess I just forget sometimes that you have so much to do. I just wanna spend all my time with you since that's all I have. I also guess offering to pay for things like your college doesn't help either when your girlfriends independent"

"And capable of doing everything on her own. Including paying for her school and home necessities. I mean it's a nice gesture baby but I'd just appreciate it if maybe you could take a step back and realize I'm only human. And not everyone wants to become an actor. I'm studying really hard to get to where I wanna be. And even if I'm working a boring desk job right now I won't be in the future"

"I know baby and I'm so proud of you for that you know that right?"

"Of course Charlie. And I know your my number one supporter just like I'm your number one fan" I said as he placed small kisses on my nose.

"Good....So you did all this today to get back at me?"

"Well yeah I wanted to have fun. But it's no fun when I too need to resist the urge to jump on you when you come out of the shower shirtless"

"Yeah about that I didn't know y/b/n was here or I wouldn't have walked out like that"

"I know baby. But now that we're alone so can we please just-" My words were cut off by his lips once more.

Giggling at his eagerness I began to palm him through his boxers once more.

"You don't know the things you do to me baby" He whispered pulling my bra down letting my breast fall free. I moaned as he began to suck on the left one and toying with the right one.

"God I missed these"

"Charlie please hurry up" I spoke. He didn't hesitate to remove my panties and his boxers immediately lining himself up at my entrance.

"You've been taking your birth control right?"

"Of course you idiot"

"Ooo aggressive much"

"Charlie if you don-" My words were cut off by a moan as he entered me. Not hesitating to start moving at a steady pace.

"Charlie" I moaned wrapping my legs around his waist.

"Faster"

"I'm so close baby"

"Me too" I panted as he sped up. His thrust becoming sloppier by the second.

"I'm gonna-" He groaned being the first to release. My climax coming not long after. I sighed as we rode our our highs together.

"I love you baby" Charlie said standing up and cleaning me off with a t-shirt of his.

"I love you too" I said as he finally came to lay next to me. Pulling the covers over us.

"You do know I really am proud of you right?"

"I don't know I think you need to prove it to me" I halfheartedly joked.

"If you insists" He whispered pulling me in for a sweet tender kiss.

Time slowing down as we spent the night tangled in each other's arms. Enjoying each other's company. Each other's love.

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