atlas hands

❝What I trusted was his smile. There is a Nordic fierceness to his eyes, a power to his neck, but his smile opens like a feminine Iris. In the grandeur there is softness. I could fall in love with his smile.❞ Adrian O'Hara. Thirty. Police Officer. Atlas On Earth.

[ofnikkcs]

❝And I love you, I love you, I love you…❞

adrian o’hara + zoe foster // point of views.

[ofnikkcs]

Driven–– Episode 4.

(2018)

[adrianohara]

ADRIAN O’HARA; INSTAGRAM

                           11/19/2018                                location: lanford, ny.

                                          ⇢ “happy birthday.”

[adrianohara]

—ZOE & adrian,

                                   Chuckling against his chest, one hand slipping under the hem of his shirt to find press against his back without the hindrance of fabric in the way of warmth, she blinked a few times and looked up at him as innocently as she could. “Stakes I can’t refuse?” She repeated with a few bats of her eyelashes, fingernails painting invisible figure eights into his skin. At this point, maybe especially right now on this mild fall day, a bomb could’ve probably gone off in the near distance and the two lovers wouldn’t have moved an inch; wouldn’t even notice—- for her, Zoe, there was no other place to be than right there, in his arms, the two of them the only present and everything else a blur, background noise, nothing. At his hand’s descent, her bottom lip was swept in between her teeth, caught and captured, held there when he occupied her back pocket so smoothly, curling a particularly indulgent smile on her lips. “Three tries, back turned and eyes closed? What’re you getting at here, O’Hara—” She teased and chuckled against his stubbly chin, gladly allowing him to pull her even closer to his broad form as he prepared to outline the conditions of this wager completely. As he did, every word breathed against her earlobe, she found herself biting down harder on her lip, stifling a mischievous smirk. “How can I say no to that?” She rasped, peering up at him from under long, dark lashes, plump lip finally released again. “Don’t even care if you win or not,” she added in a light laugh, pushing up on her toes to press a convincing kiss to his lips.

            The classic ‘Zoe Foster Charm Offensive’ had the lion man devoured from head to toe–– weakened, under the tender assault of fingertips on his hot skin and the languid, sultry bat of endless lashes. Tear his shirt from his back and you’d see the goosebumps she endowed, across the broad expanse, constellations in bronze skin. One, two, three shaky breaths parted him then; buried into a crown of umber wisps, each as sacred in the woman each one belonged to. His heavenly body never shy in letting the fox’s know that he was utter putty in her hands, “Exactly. You can’t. I’m playing dirty here, Foster. And I learned from the best,” And the best was the best for a reason, proof with a look. Her plumpened lip trapped between her teeth was like a thorn in a raw paw, causing the lion an irrepressible reaction when his large hands gripped the ample flesh of her behind, mouth-watering virility radiating from him as he tugged her flush against him. No space was left between them now, there no such thing, and it still wasn’t close enough. It never would be. “Oh, yeah?” Well–” Lips parted to let her mouth --- succulent, ripe, warm --- on his in a kiss that had a guttural groan rumble in the pit of his chest, the man amelt, wanting nothing more than to steal her away and let his carnal appetites have his way with her. “I think I’m hoping for a loss.” And he laughs into celestial lips.

            A clear of a throat had the haze that the bewitched woman endowed on him lifted, leaving him dazed and confused, until the sable of pupils in auric eyes found the source, an elderly couple manning the ‘Pumpkin Ring Toss’: the woman moony-eyed and sighing as her husband fought back a grin, “Sorry, sorry. Blame her–– all her fault,” He told them, chuckling into Zoe’s skin. With movements sheepish, Adrian reluctantly untangled from his amoureuse and sought after his bearings as he picked up his tin of rings. The tosses went by fast. Three tries, three clinks of metal bouncing off glass, and he got his wish; a loss in veneer but a win at the core, and so came his half-hearted ‘disappointment’, “Damn, look at that. You win,” He sighed, brows furrowed, but his grin wasn’t easily warded off. He was a horrible actor. “Guess I have to spend all night with you, in bed,” He grinned, “Naked, covered in hot oil, all to myself... I got a hard life goin’ for me,” He spoke low, honey and earth, something wolfish glinting his chiseled, noble mien; only for her to see, to hear, to know.

           Some twenty minutes later, their slow gait had heavenly bodies adorning the serpentine path of a corn maze, their stroll slow in the pace of autumn breeze and scarlet leaf, lovers’ souls at peace. A heavy arm hung around her lissome shoulders, keeping her tucked close to him, heat eclipsing heat. “... Fall might be my favourite season, you know,” His smile was as soft as his voice as he peeked down at her–– a summer baby, borne of californian sun, of heat and sand, “Reminds me of the first time I ever saw you.”

[adrianohara]

[ofnikkcs]

ADRIAN O’HARA + text posts

[ pt. I of ∞ ]

[adrianohara]

—ZOE & adrian,

                                           “Oh, really? I don’t know if I should be impressed or surprised— maybe a bit of both,” Zoe replied with a wiggle of her brows, the corners of her lips twitching into a wide smile as she let herself be swept away, pumpkin ring toss on the horizon. Truly, as long as Adrian was the one doing it, she didn’t mind being swept away one bit— not for anything, and maybe especially not when it was a day out of town, just the two of them and all the time in the world to be together and do something a little out of the ordinary. It was nice, and she couldn’t love her man more for thinking of it in the first place. When he stopped by the game booth, seemingly changing his mind, or at least adding to his original thought, she paused in front of him with a curious look in her eyes. “I might be?” She offered, kinking an eyebrow in obvious interest, clearly wondering what was on his mind— “Why?” She asked with a teasing smile, arms coming around him as her hands gathered behind his back, her form tethered to his in their spontaneous embrace. Seeing him like this was magical in its own right, nothing weighing him down— nothing weighing them down, and it was impossible not to fall even deeper in love with him when he stood there, looking back at her like he hadn’t seen her in years. Only he knew how to do that; how to make her heart skip not just one beat, but several with just. one. glance. “You got a wager for me?” She repeated, her thoughts muddled for a moment in their moonstruck state, completely disarmed by everything that was the man in front of her.

                Stick a magic mirror into the mud, right there at the feet of the fox and lion, and you’d find time warping the soulmates ten years younger: the lion boyish now, lanky, angelic face void of chiseled lines or the mantle of dark stubble, utterly magnetized to the fox; girlish, face rounder with ripe girlhood, luscious lips so pouty and full with innocence, a godling–– and the lovers so helpless, moonstruck, under the spell of the other. Take that mirror away, and they are moonstruck still; adorned like gods in their adulthood, but that’s the only thing that’s changed. And she has him laughing now, like that lion boy hasn’t aged a day, “You better be,” He teased back, the woman’s warmth, svelte arms in a wrap around him, feeling like a foreign summer sun in the chill of autumn zephyr, “Mhm,” He paused to wet full lips, “A wager with stakes I know you can’t refuse,” He stepped into her embrace, height difference a stark ten inches, tan work boots knocking against her black heeled pair, and his large hands found their way on her mid-back, descending. Lower, until they found a comfortable, indulgent slip into the back pocket of her jeans, palms now full of ample flesh, “How about I got... three tries, to throw a ring on a bottleneck, back turned and eyes closed,” Adrian grinned; pulled her flush against him, “And if I get one, just one, I win. I don’t, you win. And loser owes the winner–” A pause lapsed for a thought to be mulled, the wolfish crook of his smile and mischief in his eyes clue to where his mind went. He’d lose, of course, but the punishment in mind was more of a prize. He ducked his head down, lips at her ear, and spoke in a deep hush and playful whisper, “––A massage tonight. A full-body, bare, hot-oiled, the-whole-works massage,” The lion pulled back, seeking a reaction in umber orbs as his, green and hungry, the zenith of his strong angular features, crinkled throughout his sultry laughter, “So? Deal or no deal, baby?”

[adrianohara]

—ADAM & adrian,

                                       “Yeah, it’s a tough life— staying awake for all the exciting things is a real challenge. I’ve tried to tell her, that if maybe she slept in once in a while, instead of waking up at six in the morning, maybe then she wouldn’t miss out on so much during the day,” he joked in a lightly hushed voice, even tough he knew there wasn’t much likely to wake her right now. “Thanks, man— she’s like a small oven, I’m sweating like crazy under here,” he added after Adrian suggested they put her down in the bed. He entered the place and took another look around, putting down the diaper bag by the entrance first before really taking it all in. The two did well; it was a perfect space for them, even Adam could see that clearly. “Oh, you babyfied it for me, huh?” He chuckled, head shaking in amusement. “Now Sierra and Mia can rest soundly, knowing I’m completely safe over here.” Following the dark haired male to the bedroom, he grinned lightly, and even larger after he gently moved Mia from his chest to the middle of the bed, stuffing her blankey into her hold. “That’s better,” he mumbled with a chuckle under his breath, smoothing his shirt back in proper place before he turned to Adrian. I was obvious he was proud of the new home, and honestly— Adam couldn’t blame him. It was amazing, even if they’d had to put in some hours. “Dude,” he said, smiling wide. “I’m so happy for you. This is an awesome place, really— and you look like you’re enjoying the whole process, yeah?”

              “See, that’s a lesson you gotta teach her fast. 'The early bird catches the worm, but there are worms to be caught in the afternoon if the said bird snoozes ‘til eight’,” The two grown men, one spurn of raven and the other gold, were surely entertaining to any flies on the wall: tall, large, and tip-toeing in whispered jest, all in fear of waking a 16 pound 2 ounce angelic baby with the lungs of an opera powerhouse, “Yeah,” Adrian japed back, “Corners are rounded and the sharp stuff’s hidden. Long as I send you back to Si in one piece, my hide’s still intact,” But as much as he joked, Adrian had indeed ‘babyfied’ the place for the time being: softened corners with hand towels and tape, hidden the beautiful decorative pieces Zoe had accented the space with that were too small or too sharp, blocked the loft stairs. Anything, for Mia. He smoothed out the cream coloured duvet of their California Queen as Adam lowered the tot, her cheeks flushed with heat, warm and cozy from her father’s eclipsing body heat, and through the lopsided grin her wore, Adrian couldn’t help the whispered words– “Damn, you make one cute kid–” that left his mouth.

             He lead them back, to the kitchen this time, with hands stuffed in pockets and the sleeve of his short sleeve and tanned skin brushing along exposed brick in their lazy gait. Testament to how attached he was to he and Zoe’s nest it was. The space practically magnetized him to it. “Yeah. I mean...” He shrugged, palms lifting too, the right finding his left bicep, “I lived in that one bedroom for years, but it never felt like home, you know? I’m damn lucky now, that we’ve found a place that does,” Even if ‘home’ has always, simply, been her. “––And you? You’re the one living domestic bliss here, Sterling. Don’t think I can’t see it in those baby blues,” His doted surname bloomed with a grin, Adam’s romantic and paternal pride unmissable to Adrian, and he punctuated the fact with the pass of a Coors to the male before him. “... Hey,” He blinked, vocalizing aloud a thought that had been egging at him since his conversation with Sierra, and the fact that Idris had been getting better, and better, “I was thinking. Me, you, Idris, taking a drive somewhere for a boys weekend. Teach the kid how to camp, and fish, before it gets too cold out,” He rose a brow, grin crooked, “I figure he learn from the best. What do you say?”

[cinemaphileadict]

Factory Girl (2006) directed by George Hickenlooper

[adrianohara]

ADRIAN O’HARA + ZOE FOSTER; INSTAGRAM

                           9/05/2018                                  location: queens, ny.

                                           ⇢ “a day at the ball park.”

@zoe-fosterr

[adrianohara]

—SASKIA & adrian,

Saskia sat on a park bench, slowly rocking Nora in her arms. A car alarm had gone off in the middle of the night, and the baby had been cranky ever since. And while a public park seemed like an odd place to try to make your child sleep, it was far quieter than their own neighborhood. “Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly,” she sang as Nora’s lashes fluttered shut. “If birds- oh shit,” Saskia groaned as her elbow made contact with a sippy cup and pushed it to the ground. She looked around frantically, both embarrassed by her word choice and hopeful that someone nearby could help her. “Excuse me,” Saskia called out to the person nearest her, “could you please pass me that cup? She’s almost asleep and I’m afraid to move,” she pleaded.

                    The clatter of plastic to concrete drudged Adrian from his reverie. Moments before in his lazed perch on the park bench, a brood of sorts had coveted the chiseled mien of raven features, and with the absentminded train of pupils on the ‘off-leash’ fenced enclosure Rocky romped around in, a glaze of hazel masking the race of a mind that could go a mile a minute, his head had been in the clouds. Maybe it was the autumn air induced the daydreaming; maybe it was the soft hum of Somewhere over the Rainbow. It was, however, the sippy cup that rolled to his feet and the softened lilt of a tired mother that pried him out--- had him nodding, fast, and crouching his broad frame down to retrieve it, “Here you go,” Adrian said in low timbre, dusting it off gravel free with his jacket sleeve before handing it over. He glanced up; between the cherub and her equally sweet-looking mother. The smaller of the two was half asleep, seen in the way eyelids rose and lowered in a slow, sleepy blink, but the rise of thin lashes revealed blue: blue as azure, as robin eggs in a nest, “She’s got your eyes,” He told her aloud. Shifting his head to settle his green haze on the mother, they squinted in the sun’s glare as a soft, lopsided smile settled on full lips, “... What’s her name?”

[adrianohara]

—CECILIA & adrian,

“Yeah,” Cecilia said and paused for a brief moment to add a smile, “There’s not enough hours in a day if you ask him. Maybe if they added another ten, he would be easier to reach.” She could have sounded bitter about it, but really didn’t. Her brother deserved everything he had fought for and even more — If he never came back to town again to visit her, Ceci couldn’t find it in her heart to blame or fault him. Lanford had been the backdrop for many happy occasions, but unfortunately also even more horrible ones. As the oldest, and the only son, Diego had stood target for most of their father’s wrath and heavy hands, and to protect Cecilia and their mom, he had never fought back. In a way, Diego deserved a life far from the one he had known back in North End, even if it meant leaving her behind. “Don’t worry, I don’t tell him anything that might boost his ego,” she joked with a faint chuckle, head shaking softly. She had never been the mushiest kind, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t proud too. Not just of Diego, but of Adrian too, who had come from the same humble beginnings and worked his way up in the world, now a respected police officer who looked out for his own and the rest of town. He was an integrated success story, and even outsiders, those not from North End, had to be a little bit in awe. At least Cecilia thought so. “It is what it is,” she said and shrugged, turning around to grab a damp cloth, wiping down the counter methodically to keep her hands busy in the midst of a talk she was far from used to having. She didn’t pause again until Adrian was kind enough to offer a pseudo family that she already knew she had. “Thank you,” she said and looked up at him with sincere gratitude in green orbs. “I will definitely keep it in mind.“

                    “––‘Guess I’ll just try him on a summer solstice, or daylight savings, from here on out. Nab him on the longest days I can,” Adrian jested back, the soft teeter out that remained in the warm bend of his smile emulating the girl’s, and he felt a silent pass of adore for her older brother. For both of Lanford’s remaining Torres’, from him to her, but the sentimentality of it all was something he knew wasn’t Cecilia’s style, so he remained tight-lipped; knew in his heart he was just as proud of what would forever be the small, green-eyed, enigmatic girl from a few blocks down, “Good. He’s got you to keep him humble and ward off the evil exes,” The male’s smile still ghosted as his own verdant gaze watched the umber liquid of his cola, ice crackling in its slow melt, as he let the weight of her words buzz over him and settle. ‘It is what it is’. The most definitive declaration in the english language since the punctuation of the period itself. It is what it is. Missing someone was what it was–– always would be that easy and convoluted at once. Didn’t mean it made it hurt any less. It never did. So Adrian left it that; a nod, a lock of chartreuse hue to honeyed-hazel, and that melancholic, sunlit smile that was singular to him alone, was left to rest in its wake, “I hope you will,” His voice was lighter, coated in honey, trading the heft in for levity as he lazed back in his seat, “Because only two types of board games exist to me. Sorry, and not-Sorry,” He japed, “And the former is always best with a fourth. Idris’ words, not mine,” He looked around, chest swelling with a breath, as that smile deepened with his next thought, “Kid wanted to come by with me, see ‘Cici’ too, he just wasn’t feeling up to it today,” He cleared his throat, fast, and went on, “Wanted me to ask you how ‘The Cube’ is doing, and if it’s got eight sides or twelve,” Adrian japed, boyish as the words he echoed verbatim.

[paulnewman-blog]

He was smiling… That’s right. You know, that, that Luke smile of his. He had it on his face right to the very end. Hell, if they didn’t know it ‘fore, they could tell right then that they weren’t a-gonna beat him. That old Luke smile. Oh, Luke. He was some boy. Cool Hand Luke. Hell, he’s a natural-born world-shaker. 

-Dragline

[ofnikkcs]

frustrated™

[adrianohara]

@hunthomas

                  Eyes bore into his back as he entered The Cellar, and though he could feel them burn like the sun hitting a magnifying glass just right, he didn’t flinch–– made his way to the worn maplewood bar as the back of the man he wanted to see hunched over, surely nursing a lager, found his line of hazel vision. Lowering into his seat, shifting hips in the cushion of a bar stool, arranging long legs to fit, Adrian ordered a whiskey neat; he’d need it, to keep from saying, doing something, he’d regret, “Long day?” Asked the officer to the perp. A perp squeaky clean, impossible to bust, but helpful in the trail of crumbs that would hopefully lead him to bigger fish.

[adrianohara]

—ADAM & adrian,

+ @adrianohara.

                                  “We tried to stay awake for the grand reveal, but only one of us actually managed to,” Adam said when the elevator doors opened up right in the middle of Adrian and Zoe’s new place— or not so new anymore, but it was the first time Adam had brought Mia with him. She was now fast asleep against his chest, cheek pressed to his collarbone and her chubby hands loosely clinging to his shoulders. “But don’t worry. In two hours or so, she’ll be all over this. Looks amazing, man. Are you guess done with it now, or do you still have something to do?” He asked Adrian, stepping inside slowly, as if not to stir Mia awake.

                 “There you are,” Greeted the brunette to the blondes, “––And I feel you, Mia,” Adrian wiped his palms on his jeans as he and Rocky rose from the couch, their favourite daddy-daughter-duo entering the loft with only one half of them lucid; the tiny other, cherubic, fast asleep against her dad’s chest. The dark and rugged male was all ivories, dimple and gum at the sight, “Here, come put her down in the bed,” Adrian spoke quiet, to save waking the flaxen-haired cherub, “But thanks, man. Wait ‘til I show you the rest of it. Not to mention I ‘babyfied’ it–– for your safety, I mean. Not Mia’s” He joked, work-roughened palms stuffed in pockets. Large feet were featherlight on hardwood as he lead Adam through the space, to the bedroom that the sun painted sienna and overlooked the sea, “I don’t think we’ll ever not have something to do, but I like it, fixing it up. I love this place, man,” He smiled, melted and earnest. The fix-me-up status this place was in was part of why he got it for so cheap, and it still felt like a steal; a labour of love, this project was, and he didn’t mind one bit.

[adrianohara]

—ERIN & adrian,

Erin nodded, taking a moment to swallow the pastry still in her mouth before she spoke. “Oh, yeah. And the piece isn’t even finished. I’m doing his whole upper back and shoulders, that doesn’t happen quickly,” she explained. It was exhausting, to spend so much time on one piece all at once, but it was nothing new. Erin laughed- cackled, perhaps, would be more accurate. She was an absolute sugar fiend, always one to have a few too many vices. “Yeah, that’s true. I mean, I was born on Halloween, I think I was destined to be a little demonic. Or, at least, to always want free candy.” She perked up, elated at the thought that Adrian might let her ink his skin. Erin furrowed her brow, contemplating a design. She had always been more caught up in nagging him than actually planning something. “Hmm,” she murmured. “Well, it would be small. Not dainty, exactly, but definitely not something that would take four hours,” Erin smirked. “And nothing too literal, either. What it would be symbolic of, that’s the real question. Your family? Maybe your mom,” she added, to herself as much as to Adrian. “Okay, like, what are the things that make you think of your family? Books you were read as a child, things you liked to do together? Like, I have a few tattoos about being Hindu, for me and my dad. And this,” Erin paused to pull off a sweater, and then pointed to the anatomically-correct heart woven into the design on her right arm. “This is for my mom, because, you know, she’s a heart surgeon.”

                A whole back. It couldn’t be easy on either party, he was sure. Eyes widened, lips pursed, and blow out a breath through the shake of a head, “It’ll be damn worth it, though. For you and for him,” And it was simple as that; duck soup, in the way he smiled at her, knowing if anyone could do it, it was her. “You’re a Halloween baby, I remember,” A birthday of notoriety; not easy to forget, “Bite sized candy and mischief made you, is you, ain’t it?” His teasing simper settled as his imposing frame did too, got more comfortable in a lean back, tucking his hands beneath his arms in a laze of a cross, listening; ignoring the chair squeaking under his weight and everything else, but her. ‘Short and sweet’. Good, Adrian thought. Pain had never hindered him before: it was the sitting still that intimidated him, “Nothing too literal. Guess that cancels outs the classic upper-arm, arrow through the heart, ‘Mom’ tattoo, huh...” The jape fell from crooked, grinning lips, but something dusky flashed through his aureate gaze, and he was caught in a web of sentimentality he had a part in spinning. He had wanted something permanent to honour his mother with for years, but hospital wings were too expensive and name-a-star was too corny, “But uhh––” He ran his hand through his dark hair, cow-licked now, “I’m not sure. I’m not that creative. Not like Ophelia, or Idris, or her,” He smiled, a little sad as he always was, remembering his mother, and he was thankful for the distraction of Erin sharing her skin, her truth, and he leaned forward for a better look, “Damn, Erin,” He narrowed his gaze to with through a shoal of dark lashes, “This is incredible... You design it yourself?” He ran his thumb over the skin, admiring the rouge ink and clever cut lines that was now apart of her, liking the idea more and more. Uh oh. He was in trouble.

                “–– Celtic Knots,” Adrian spoke out of the blue. His gaze flickered up to meet Erin’s: shy, almost, in the confession of where his own creativity bloomed, “I’d get celtic knots. Three, right here–” A right hand untucked to point along the left side of his torso, length-wise down his ribs, “One for each of them. My mom, uhh... she loved the knots,” He blinked, a little unsure where the abrupt confession came from, “Had this old coffee table book when I was a kid, with hundreds of them and their meanings. I used to look at it all the time,” Adrian recalled the memory fondly.