Hi! Was wondering whether you would be interested in writing the missing scene from Shell Shocked, where Viggo not only subdues Astrid but also manages to convince Stormfly to fly up the volcano to Hiccup. I think you'd do an amazing job at it!
I'm gonna call this one Deceit >:) and awgh thank u!! ♡
Viggo watched Hiccup and the Night Fury soar off over the sea and smirked. There truly was nothing more gratifying than a plan well made, and this one had gone off without a hitch. So far, anyway. The next part would be a little trickier, but knowing what he knew now, it would be laughably simple.
He picked his way down to the water and knelt. It would be better to immerse himself, but his armor pinched terribly when it was wet. No, ducking his head would be sufficient. He held his breath and dunked himself, then rose with a less-than-dignified splutter and got to his feet.
In the forest some distance away, to his satisfaction, was the stomping of two huge feet. Nadder feet. He smiled, then changed the expression to one of pained concern and affected a stagger towards the sound. Right before he came into view, he shortened his breath to make it seem like he'd run as best he could all the way here.
The Nadder squawked in alarm as he appeared from behind a tree, and its rider was no more happy than her dragon to see him.
"Viggo!" Astrid snapped, pulling the beast up sharply. "Where's Hiccup? What's going on?"
"Astrid," Viggo gasped. "By the gods. I need your help."
"Where's Hiccup?" she repeated angrily, but he could see concern starting in her hardened expression from here. Ah, young love. It burned so fiercely.
"He was going to set me down over there," Viggo explained, waving a hand behind him, "but an arrow hit his Night Fury. I was thrown into the water, and I saw them crash up there." He pointed vaguely towards the smoking mountain.
"Oh, gods," Astrid muttered, turning to look at the volcanic peak. "Oh, no..." She took a deep breath, about to order the dragon to take off, but Viggo cut in.
"Wait!" he said. "Take me with you. I can show you where I saw them go down."
She glared at him, but panic was surely clouding her thoughts. In a rational frame of mind, there was no way she'd believe this ridiculous tale. She'd notice that he was only partially soaked, reason that she could see a dragon crash from the air, that she didn't need him, but worry for Hiccup had taken the reins. Viggo was delighted to be along for the ride.
Astrid scooted up in the saddle and growled, "Let's go."
Viggo had to contain the evil grin that longed to spread across his face and mounted up behind her. He knew that she was much less trusting than dear, naive Hiccup, but he'd done it anyway. It was just a matter of finding the right trigger. So helpful that hers and Hiccup's were so similar.
The Nadder's flight was very different to the Night Fury, and they were moving fast. "Where did you see them?" Astrid shouted over the wind.
"That way," Viggo said, pointing over her shoulder. He felt her flinch as he touched her. Poor dear girl. If only she knew.
The top of the mountain came into view, and Viggo's misdirection afforded him the first glimpse of the volcano's basin. He'd told Astrid to look in the opposite direction, and for good reason: a tiny figure in a red tunic stood at the edge of the bubbling pit.
Now it was time.
Quick as a flash, Viggo looped an arm around Astrid's waist, pinning her arms to her sides, and jerked the axe out of her hand. She'd been too preoccupied to grip it tightly, and now it was his. She gasped and went completely rigid before bucking harshly, trying to hit his face with the back of her head. He dodged, still holding her. The dragon shrieked and flapped erratically, but stayed airborne.
"Now, listen to me," he growled. "We are going to land by the volcano. You will not try any tricks, or Hiccup will be receiving your bloodless corpse instead of the pretty, vivacious girl he intends to marry. Understand?"
"I'll crash us first," Astrid snarled.
"With this axe at your throat, you'll die before I will," Viggo said. He raised the weapon in question to hover before her. "Land, now. Hiccup is smart, he will make the right choice. I've no doubt that the two of you will be very happy together if he does."
He could almost see the wheels turning in her mind, and as he angled the axe to reflect her face to him, he saw the decision arrive. "Stormfly, down," she said furiously.
"Good girl," Viggo said with a smirk. Gods, this was intoxicating. All his plans, his wagers... all coming to fruition at once. There was just one more... and it lay in the hands of the clever boy below them. Viggo smiled.
Reader with her protective partner/scary dog privilege that lets her enjoy whatever she’s doing unbothered — scary dog privilege describing the safety women or vulnerable people feel when walking which deters unwanted attention, harassment, or threats
Harvey in his 20's.. I would love to see him being the wonderful person he is despite all the abuse he went threw😭😞
I HAD TO DO HIS FIRST MEETING WITH EUN-MI! I'm so sorry! ;-;
"Thank you, have a lovely day!" A young lady smiled at the dark-haired man in front of her.
It was a chilly spring morning on his university campus. The chill in the air gave him an excuse to get a hot coffee and to read a good book at the campus coffee shop. Harvey grabbed the warm beverage from the barista and smiled. "Thank you, you too!" He said with a warm smile. He took a long sip and let out a contented sigh. Since immigrating to the States two years ago, he felt at peace. No worries about watching his back, and no more insults hurled his way. Moving away was the best thing he could have done for his mental health.
Harvey sat down in at a table far away from the entrance. His morning classes were canceled for the day, so he could take some time and relax before his afternoon classes. He was absorbed in his book, a thriller novel that was recommended to him by a classmate, oblivious to his surroundings. At 22, he felt at peace for the first time in a while.
"Hey, is this seat taken?" He heard someone speak. He looked up from his novel and felt his face go warm. A woman around his age smiled at him cutely. He gulped.
"N-No, not at all. Sit down," he said shyly. She chuckled at his nervousness.
"I don't think I've seen you around here before. What's your name?"
"Harvey, you?"
"Eun-mi," she replied.
Woah, she's gorgeous. Harvey thought to himself.
"Want a drink? I can buy you a coffee or hot chocolate, if you want?" He offered.
"That would be lovely. Thank you," she said. He closed his book with a light thud and went back to the barista. The woman in front of him followed right behind.
"Back for a refill?" The barista laughed innocently. Harvey shook his head.
"No, I'm buying a coffee for the lady beside me," he clarified. He turned to his new companion. "Order what you want."She studied the menu carefully, before deciding on hot coffee with half milk. The barista got to work.
"What's your major?" She asked innocently, her sharp eyes never leaving his soft blues.
"Finance, actually. I want to become an investment banker one day, and get involved with the stock market so I don't have to live the life I did previously," he explained solemnly.
"I'm a general education student at the moment. I have no idea what I want to do, but I have time to figure it out."
He smiled at her, "That sounds like a plan."
Eun-mi's laughter caused his heart to swell. "I think this will be the beginning of a wonderful friendship." She said as the barista called her name.
Hello 👀 about requests 👀 would you write something about an au in which Copia is a hooker (of the street kind, not the fancy kind) and gets railed with dirty talk and degradation and he's not too happy about the whole thing?? If not no worries
A Life Lackluster
Pairing: Copia/GenMale M/M
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 3,529
Summery: Copia is a well known performer in an underground burlesque Cabaret club, but although his dream is to make it on the stage, it doesn't exactly pay the bills the way selling his body does.
Copia bowed his head and hunched his shoulders in a little against the drizzly damp of the air as his gloved hands cupped around the cigarette hanging between his lips, trying to keep the paper dry as his thumb flicked at the striking coil a few times, attempting to get a flame. Flick, flick, flick, and still nothing but the scratch of the flint.
“Cazzo...Fuckin’ piece of shit...”
He grumbled low as he shook the cheap bic a few times, hoping that might wet the wick inside enough to get even a small spark to catch. Honestly, he should just invest in a zippo and be done with these useless corner store lighters, but when he had days where he had to choose between groceries or the electric bill, investing a chunk of change into an already expensive habit just wasn’t worth it.
At least that was his rationalization for it, though it did exactly dick to help him in moments like this when he was buzzing from a hot and heavy night on stage and just needed a fix to settle the lingering adrenaline. Three more unsuccessful flicks had him pitching the lighter across the sidewalk with a skittering clatter of cheap plastic on cement. Groaning in disappointment, Copia closed his black shadowed eyes and let his head fall back against the poster-plastered brick of the night club; cigarette still perched between his painted lips like a broken promise. He fully reclined against the wall, kicking one booted foot up against its surface as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. Maybe there was another lighter stashed in there, somewhere?
He shivered lightly, the damp hanging in the air adding just enough chill to the night that it bit at his skin. Granted, he was still wearing his stage outfit which was little more than a corset that stopped midway up his sternum and fishnet stockings on top of a black thong. Tonight's show had been a particularly filthy affair and the less left to the imagination, the better~ Copia certainly didn’t mind showing off his body, especially if it got the audience roaring for him, and it was fun to touch himself in a way that left them aching but unsatisfied. A refreshing space of ‘power’ he could control in contrast to the lack of said power in his life outside the club...
Scoffing a bit at the sinking pit in his stomach he gave up on digging in his pockets, pulling his hands free to grab the lapels of his tailcoat and tuck the fabric a little tighter over his bare chest and shoulders. The metallic snap and scratch of a metal lighter near his head made Copia’s mis-matched eyes pop open; face turning in the direction of the flickering fire held aloft a few inches from him.
“Need a light, doll?”
Eyes adjusting to the firelight, Copia looked beyond it to the face smiling at him. Handsome enough, and with an unmistakable glimmer of self-serving mischief that lit up the eyes and curled the edges of his lips in a way that the younger man could appreciate. Certainly not the worst face that had greeted him on a dark street. He tilted his head a little against the wall where it still rested, gaze shifting between the stranger's smirk and the dancing fire held up in his hands. No... Certainly not the worst he’d attracted.
Leaning up a bit and curling his torso forward so that half his coat spilled open again, exposing the right side of his body, Copia reached out with one hand to wrap leather-encased fingers around the other man’s wrist, holding him steady as he tipped his head closer, setting the tip of the cigarette into the fire and inhaling slow. His face scrunched slightly with dismay as his mouth was filled with heat and the murky flavor of damp tobacco, but no smoke or the sweet nicotine that he craved. Cussing on a sigh of defeat, the singer drew back, releasing the stranger's wrist to reach up and pluck the useless cig from his lips, twisting it between his fingers to examine the damp paper before crumbling the stick and tossing it aside to join the equally disappointing lighter he’d discarded earlier.
“Guess the Universe is telling me it’s time to quit, eh?” Copia murmured low, smiling with a shrug.
“Mm, or maybe it just thinks your mouth would be better suited wrapped around something else~”
The man’s smirk deepened as he snapped the zippo lid closed and pocketed the lighter, reaching out with one hand to stroke the back of his fingers up Cardi’s leg from the bend of his knee towards his hip; catching one of the loops in the fishnet to tug suggestively.
Ah. So much for some ‘foreplay’.
Copia hooded his eyes as he kept his gaze on the finger curled into his stocking, watching it pull the fabric taut, so close to tearing. What was it about men and tearing up clothes? Fishnet might be flimsy, but it wasn’t cheap to replace every time.
“What makes you think I-”
“Oh~, I’ve seen you perform...”
“Tsh, my act doesn’t mean that I’m easy.”
The larger man leaned in closer, voice like a dagger wrapped in velvet. Soft. Dangerous. His hand on Copia’s thigh shifted, moving to the curve of his hip and squeezing meaningfully.
“I’m not just talking about in the club... I’ve seen you.”
Copia’s eyes widened at that as his lips parted on a tight breath. He wasn’t exactly cautious about when and where he did his extra ‘work’, but he was rarely out in the open... which meant this man would have had to see him pick up a john and followed them. Great, an attractive stalker. He might have to rethink that ‘not the worst’ notion he’d had earlier. Still, it was clear what the man wanted out of him, and that was an easy enough means of getting rid of him so Copia could get on with his night.
He did want to blow off some steam after all.
“Then you know it’s not a free performance.”
The stranger snorted at that and pressed in closer, boxing Copia against the wall and drawing his free hand up under the section of the singer’s coat that still covered his torso, pushing it back over the curve of Copia’s naked shoulder to get a better look at him.
“Guess you better put the work in and fuckin’ earn every penny then, huh?”
The younger man’s smokey eyes hooded slightly as he considered the man bracketing him against the side of the club, two-toned eyes slowly roaming down the length of the strangers' body and pausing at the impressive outline of his trapped cock in his jeans. His tongue flicked out against his upper lip, touching the short hairs of his thin mustache as he considered how much his jaw would ache if he managed to get most of it into his throat. Humming a low note of approval, Copia looked back up to catch the man’s hungry gaze and tipped his head towards the alley at the back of the club.
“Let's take this somewhere a little more private... There are a few cops that prowl this corner on the hour looking for anyone turning tricks.”
“Hm, and you know their schedule that well because it’s usually YOU they’re looking for?” The larger man murmured with a snide snort, drawing back enough to let Copia push off the wall and walk them the few feet to the end of the building and into the dank shadows of the back alley.
“Let's just say that you’re not the only one who’s seen me ‘perform’ outside the club.”
“Why should I bother paying then when you seem to give away the goods for free to anyone willing to watch?”
“Cause the cuck chair is always free~” Copia muttered sarcastically, smirking low as he glanced back over his shoulder.
His amusement was short lived though, the collar of his tailcoat suddenly being yanked back hard enough that the singer stumbled off balance, grunting rough as he collided with the wall; momentarily stunned as the back of his head connected with brick. Groaning low and bowing his head forward to reach for the sting in his scalp, Copia’s breath caught on a choked inhale as the john’s fingers clutched around his throat, bringing their faces close enough that he could feel the heat of the other man’s breath on his skin.
“One hell of a mouth on you...”
Copia swallowed a bit rough, mis-matched eyes dancing between the other man's eyes and lips, his own tongue toying against his lower lip as a deviant hunger ignited in his veins.
“Mmhn, you should give it a try and find out firsthand~”
The growl that escaped the larger man was primal and the hand he had wrapped around Copia’s throat slid upwards along the line of his jaw and into his hair; grip punishing as he pushed the performer down onto his knees. His free hand made quick work of his clasp and zipper, finally giving the beast in his pants some much needed air. Copia breathed in slowly, saliva pooling against his tongue and his throat already constricting at the promise of the coming punishment.
He didn’t resist as his head was tipped back, giving the john a good view of his face, mouth already open with anticipation. The stretch was just as achingly perfect as Copia had imagined it would be as inch after amazingly thick inch pressed itself towards his throat, refusing to let up until Copia could feel the coarse hairs of the mains groin tickle against the finer hairs of his mustache. His eyes watered from the strain, throat vainly trying to swallow, lungs to draw in breath. Gaze fixed on the larger man, Copia drooled the excess saliva from the corners of his mouth as he held out as long as he could before trying to tap out for air. The smug ass held his hair tight, tugging Copia forward just that much closer to properly make the singer slap at his thigh in earnest before drawing all the way out; releasing him entirely so that Copia fell forward with a harsh cough and raspy inhale.
As he pushed himself back into an upright position, Copia wiped at the excess drool on his chin with the back of his gloved hand, teary eyes glancing up ruefully towards the man standing over him. The stranger smirked and lightly clucked his tongue against the back of his teeth as he reached to stroke his spit-slicked cock.
“That really all you can handle, slut? Hardly worth my time, let alone a dollar~”
Copia snorted a bit at that, taking the bait of the other’s insult and reaching up to firmly grip the hem of the man’s jeans, pulling him closer as his mouth greedily claimed the flesh it hungered for. His cheeks hallowed as he pulled deep, working the length in at his own pace until the flared head was notched into the back of his throat once more. The hissed breath escaping between the large man’s clenched teeth was as beautiful to Copia’s ears as any moan could be, his eyes slipping closed as he savored the weight of the cock pinning his tongue to the bottom of his jaw. His head rolled, building up a rhythm until the ache of his stretched throat became a craving.
Hands clutched at the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair as his movements were guided, the wet squelch of his throat being fucked open a lewd harmony to the light patter of the rain on the nearby trash cans. Copia’s half-opened eyes rolled back as he groaned, letting himself be used as his own hand went to his crotch, gripping at the stiffness of his dick pressing pitifully against the strained fabric of his thong.
“Mggh, now that’s more like it~” the john murmured roughly as his rolling hips snapped harder, causing Copia to choke and constrict around him once more, “I think you’re fooling yourself on this ‘singing’ bullshit... your mouth was made to be filled just like this.”
Copia growled at the back of his throat as he glared up at the other through a wince, his jaw tensing enough to clamp his teeth around the shaft in warning. The john froze for an instant as he looked down at the whore’s face, his grip on Copia’s hair twisting the strands hard enough to make the singers already bruised skull ache.
“Watch it, bitch. You don’t need teeth in that pretty face of yours to get the job done.”
The threat wasn’t anything Copia hadn’t heard before, and he had yet to meet a man actually willing to follow through on it. His lips pulled back slightly, showing off his teeth as he bared down just a fraction more, daring the man to try it. Being demeaned for being a hooker was one thing, but being told his singing was worthless wasn’t an insult Copia was prepared to tolerate.
The stranger cussed at the uncomfortable pressure baring down on his dick and yanked back hard on Copia’s head to pull free. Copia sneered with satisfaction, spitting excess saliva and precum from his mouth as he held the irate strangers gaze in challenge.
“You were saying~?”
The slap wasn’t unexpected, but it still made Copia see stars as his head snapped to the side and heat like a branding iron burned across the side of his face. The taste of hot iron coated his tongue and Copia smiled through a grimace as he weakly tongued the split in his lip.
“T-The rough stuff costs extra, just so we’re clear...”
“Noted.” The john whispered viciously as he hauled Copia up onto his feet by his hair.
Hissing with pain and not looking forward to the migraine he’d be battling by the end of the night, Copia staggered to catch his balance, grunting as he was spun around and pressed cheek-first against the grimy brick wall. Its rough texture felt like sandpaper against his already burning skin, made all the worse as the stranger pinned him in place with a strong hand pressed to the back of his head. He grunted a little, quickly reaching to brace his hands on the wall for purchase as his feet were kicked apart into a wider stance, the solid frame of the man behind him making him feel like he was being compressed by a vice.
There was little warning before the john’s free hand slipped between them and hooked into the loops of his fishnet, giving a rough yank that tore the fabric into a gaping hole. Copia cussed sharply at yet another ruined set of costume stockings, his voice strained as he tried to glare at the man beyond his shoulder.
“Hey!! I have to use these again for work!”
“Like anyone gives a fuck if a slut is wearing pants...They don’t cover anything from view anyway...” The man’s hand clutched tightly at one of Copia’s ass cheeks, hooking his thumb against the back of the thong to tug the fabric out of his way as he spread the smaller man open. “This is what your little patrons pay to see~”
“T-tsh... the tease is part of the allure, dickhead.”
Copia gasped and arched as he felt the other man's thumb roughly force itself inside him, the digit rolling lazily to loosen the tense flesh.
“I’m not paying to watch you flaunt your ass up on stage... I’m here to wreck this pretty little hole.”
“Planning to get on with it anytime soon or just talk? I have other shit to do tonight...”
“There’s that fuckin’ mouth again...” The stranger growled with annoyance, the hand he’d been pinning Copia’s head with shifting to force three fingers into the singer's mouth, cutting off anything else Copia might have said in response. “You sound better when you’re gagging on something anyway.”
The singer let out a muffled growl as his teeth bared once again, but the john’s fingers hooked down firmly against his lower jaw, forcing his knuckles up against the flat edge of Copia’s upper teeth and keeping his mouth pried open so that he didn’t have the leverage to bite with any real force. Copia tasted blood on his tongue, knowing he’d at least scored the skin in his efforts, but it wasn’t as satisfying as it could have been. He keened sharply as he heard the larger man spit into his free hand; the pressure of hot flesh forcing itself past the resistance of his hole forcing Copia to rock up slightly on his toes, bracing against the discomfort of an all but raw entry.
The john didn’t waste energy on any more cocky insults once he was pressed into the smaller man’s clutching heat. The hand not occupied in Copia’s mouth gripped at the whore’s hip hard enough that bruises were already beginning to bloom under the indents of each finger, pulling Copia’s body back to meet each primal thrust. Copia’s breath punched out between his stuffed lips in muffled grunts and low groans, taking the man's brutal desire less than enthusiastically, but it certainly tickled the dark part of his brain that found the roughness enjoyable.
As much as he disliked this man's personality, the feel of him pumping inside of Copia scratched just the right itch to keep the singers' cock thick and leaking in the cloth cage of his underwear. Resistance ebbed as the younger man gave in, accepting this fucked up clash for what it was in the end... A transaction. The tension in his mouth softened as Copia wrapped his lips around the fingers muffling his voice, sucking at them lewdly and humming with approval as their rough grip relaxed; pistoning against his tongue in a matching rhythm to the man’s cock. Without them fighting each other, Copia managed to drop one of his hands down between his legs, roughly taking himself into the clasp of his gloved fingers and stroking quickly.
When the john drew back to spin him around one last time, Copia was done fighting about it. He reached out to wrap one arm around the other man's broad shoulders, letting his legs get swept up off the ground and the wall now at his back brace him as he was hoisted from the ground and slammed into anew; sparks dancing like embers across his nerves.
“C-Cazzo!!”
Copia threw his head back, ignoring the protest at the back of his head as it connected against the brick once again. It was all worth it so long as the smug son of a bitch could make him cum.
“Nnggf, fuck, that’s so much better, isn’t it bitch? See how good I treat you when you behave?”
“S-Shut up and keep going...!”
“H-heh, you really are just a needy cum slut, aren’t you?” The stranger grinned with satisfaction as he snapped into the now pliant whore begging for more, making sure every thrust bounced Copia from the force.
Copia keened again as he felt his prostate get hammered mercilessly in this position, all else fading to the background as his mind focused only on the mounting tension in his loins. When his climax finally broke free, the rush of it made him buck down hard, his limbs tightly clutching at the man supporting his weight. He could feel the john’s cock thicken and kick inside him, heat burning along his fucked-out channel only to drip back out as the man rocked his hips back and left Copia’s body open to the damp air.
He was dropped back onto his feet a bit unceremoniously, but at least the dickhead didn’t just drop him on his ass. Even so, Copia’s legs felt like jello and he leaned back against the wall, letting his body slide down its surface until he was seated on the ground, breathing hard through the post-orgasm haze. He blinked a bit as a fluttering motion in the air caught his attention, his gaze following the decent of a couple of $50s as they dropped from the john’s hand to the ground between his spread legs. Considering how much grief the man had given him, it was generous. Copia tipped his head up to look at the other man's face, smirking mildly.
“Glad you enjoyed the private show... Asshole.”
The man smirked, giving Copia’s boot a stiff kick as he tucked himself back into his pants, shoving his wallet back into his coat pocket before fishing out the zippo from earlier and tossing it at the singer.
“Something to help keep that fuckin’ mouth of yours busy...”
Copia arched his brows and watched the man wander out of the alley, a smile curling his split lip as he snatched the lighter and cash off the ground, pocketing the bills and fishing out his pack of smokes to tap one free and grasp it between his lips.
“Guess the Universe doesn’t believe in quitters after all~”
Thank you to all who read, respond, and repost! I hope you enjoyed it and I'll be sure to write more soon! - Hijinx
It was a late night in Louisana, and Elvis was bored in his hotel room. He'd been filming his new movie King Creole and feeling homesick until he thought of an idea, which was to call his girlfriend, who he had hoped wasn't on stage performing. Sure, he loved dating a woman who was his equal, but it did get lonely on those nights when he needed her near to sing him to sleep when his insomnia got the best of him. Of course, Cecelia knew all too well how it felt. Everywhere she turned she could see Elvis, from the posters to the commercials to the merchandise the girls wore to her concerts, but it was nothing like having the real thing. "Alright girls goodnight..." Denise said, wishing The Garnets off as they all disbursed, Cecelia rushed to her room waiting to get into bed,
"Cece..."
"Yes, mother?"
"Front Desk says your room phone has been hanging off the-" Cecelia dashed flopping onto the bed and rolling over to the phone, "Hook..." Denise shook her head, Elvis sighed getting discouraged as he waited for her to answer, he hoped she was okay, or that she was being true to him, or that she simply was just-
"Hello?"
"ELVY WELVY BEAR!" Cecelia shouted as he laughed,
"Hey honey, I missed you," He smiled as he could hear her grinning, "Me too..." She responded by kicking her feet up and swinging them,
"How's filming?"
"How's the show?"
"You go first..."
"No, you..."
"No, you..."
"Cece..."
"El..."
"Lonely..." They said in unison, "Can't sleep without you..." Elvis sighed, "And when I try to I-I toss an turn and then I'm up so I read a book and..."
"And then get reminded of you not reading them allowed?" She asked as he laughed, Cecelia knew him so well it was scary,
"Yeah... I..."
"HEY ROSA GIVE ME MY DRUMSTICKS !" Elvis paused as he shook his head,
"You what..."
"Nothing," He shook his head, as he kept trying to focus on what he was saying,
"I wish you were here right now..."
"Me too- HEY CARLOTTA GIVE ROSA HER DRUMS..." Elvis blinked it sounded as if Cecelia's voice was coming from the wall behind him, "Sorry baby the girls are acting nuts.." He heard the door open as he took the phone as far as he could with him, his head peeping out the door "No worries honey..."
"Excuse me one second," Stepping out her hotel door, she took a deep breath and said, " YOU TWO ARE FIGHTIN' LIKE CHIL-"
"Ladies..."
"Hi, Elvis!" Rosa waved, Cecelia dropped the phone as she ran over to Elvis, Elvis catching her in a tight hug, and a sweet kiss,
"Wanna help me fall asleep..."
"Gladly..."
It was a late night in Louisana, and Elvis was bored in his hotel room. He'd been filming his new movie King Creole and feeling homesick, but now he had his girlfriend Cecelia running her fingers through his hair and singing him to sleep as he happily laid on her chest.
❝ do you mind if we stay like this for a little longer? ❞ for Damien
(Thank you so much, Emily! I hope you like it, i think this is my first ever request!)
“That’s it, Freelancer, you’re doing great.”
The words of praise from their fiery partner had the flames at their command burning brighter, their core thrumming in their chest in a staccato rhythm as the flames twirled and spiraled like ribbons. Sweat beaded their skin as their feet carried them through the steps of the dance. They spun slowly, raising their arms above their head, making the flames follow the direction as they fluttered out around them.
The Freelancer panted softly, turning toward Damien as he clapped. They couldn’t help but give a little bow, beaming at him as they straightened. “Your form was almost perfect. You’ll be ready for the performance next week for sure. I’m surprised you volunteered for the fire portion though.”
“Hmm? Why? I feel like fire is one of my strongest elements. And I was honored to even be asked to take part, so why not give it my best shot and use the element I’m confident in?” They smiled softly as they took the towel he held out toward them, using it to pat their skin dry. “Plus, you were asked to do the other fire part. And I thought it’d be nice if we were partners.”
Damien sputtered at that, “Y-You can’t mean that you picked fire because of me? Your control over air and earth is just as strong as fire.” He huffed out, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away. “Sheesh, you need to believe in yourself more. But… I appreciate the fact that you wanted to be partners.” He mumbled out the last part.
They grinned, a passing breeze cooling their skin and ruffling their hair. They’d picked a wonderful time to practice, the sky clear and turning beautiful hues of pink and orange as the sun inched below the horizon. The delicate scent of fresh flowers in the air as new buds came to life on the hydrangea bushes. Damien jolted when they sprawled out in the dirt of the clearing they were in, their fall cushioned by a blast of air. He sighed, “You’re going to get dirty.”
“I’m taking a shower after this anyway. A little dirt isn’t going to hurt me.” They waved him over, “Or you, for that matter. Come on. Take a moment to relax, you workaholic.”
He huffed out a sigh, “You’re incorrigible,” Still, he found himself taking a seat beside them, leaning back on his hands. “And I’m not a workaholic.”
“Sure you aren’t. Study-holic then?”
“Tch. Brat.”
“Jerk.”
“Smartass.” He grunted when they sat up, wrapping their arms around his shoulders from behind and dragging him down to the ground with them. “You’re a hellion.”
“Yet you still put up with me.” The breathless giggle in his ear was downright devious, even so, he couldn’t help but smile. The Freelancer’s warmth at his side, his head nestled in that spot between their neck and shoulder. He could smell the soap they used, and underneath that was just them. A shifting scent that never seemed to stay the same. One day it was vanilla like the sweets they made, or like pine from the evergreens in the surrounding forest. Or like the salty spray from the sea. Ever changing, always growing but… it was a smell like home.
It had that tension that always seemed to live between his shoulders, the knot that’d formed in his chest after every step back or stumble toward his goal, making him drive himself even harder, it loosened when he was near them. He felt like he could finally breathe like he used to, when the world was still full of wonder and not just the crushing weight of his own expectations.
“Hey, Freelancer… do you mind…if we, y’know…stayed like this? Just for a little longer?” He cleared his throat, trying to mask how soft his tone had gotten.
The Freelancer blinked before they smiled, their arm tightened around him in a gentle squeeze. It wasn’t often that Damien asked them for something like this. Left himself so vulnerable. “Of course, Damien. We can stay like this however long you want.”
