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lackadaisycats · 1 year

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I tried to answer this succinctly, but it turned into an essay. (Sorry.)

The Princess and the Frog was not accurate, strictly speaking, but dinging it for that would be like criticizing the Lion King for not being a realistic wildlife documentary. Accuracy wasn't really the point. Given the fantastical elements and fictional nations like “Maldonia”, I suppose we're meant to understand this as a bit removed from the real New Orleans. It's more a a jazz-flavored fairy tale than a historical fiction.

But for discussion's sake....

Is it fashion-accurate to its 1926 timeframe? Ehhh, sort of. It pays homage to 20s fashion trends with cloche hats, furs and feathery headpieces, but without fully committing to it. The waistline on almost all of Tiana's clothing is too high for the 20s, and the the shapes of her fancier costumes take a lot of liberties, or deviate wildly from the style of the period.

In the 20s, dresses (including workaday stuff) tended to have a straight up-and-down shape to it - kind of a low-waisted rectangle that de-emphasized curves instead of highlighting them. There are valid reasons to play fast and loose with that, though (something I’m definitely guilty of as well). One of those reasons is communication.

For instance, speculatively, the filmmakers wrote Tiana as a hard-working waitress and wanted her to look the part, so they made the choice to clothe her in something familiar - that gingham dress of mid-century shape that we broadly associate with diner waitresses. Actual waitress uniforms of the 20s had a fair bit of overlap with maid uniforms at the time too, and I can see why they wouldn't want to risk the confusion. It's more important to communicate clearly with the larger audience than to appease a small faction of fashion nerds who'd notice or care about the precision.

I don't think it's a case of the designers failing to do their research - I'm sure they had piles of references, and maybe even consultants - but they also had to have priorities.

With her hat and coat on, she looks a lot more 1920s-shaped.

Pretty consistently, the indication of the characteristic 1920s drop waist is there, but the approach otherwise ignores the 20s silhouette. The clothes hug the body too much. This may be about appealing to a 2000s audience, visually speaking, but also could be an animation thing. Maybe both. For practical reasons, clothes in 2d animation are usually more a sort of second skin than something that wears or behaves like realistic fabric.

These are not in the 1920s ballpark at all. Tiana's blue gown looks like your basic Disney brand invention. Strapless things would have been extremely unusual and the overall shape is far out of step. Excusable, I guess, because it's a costume in context. Charlotte looks like she’s heading for a mimosa brunch in a modern maxi dress.

Charlotte's princess dress did seem to be calling back to the ultra-wide pannier side hoops of the 18th century - something that made a reappearance for part of the 20s, albeit in much milder form called robe de style. I'm not sure if the filmmakers were alluding to that at all, really, but either way, her dress is hilarious.

They only went about halfway with the cloche hats. The 1920s cloche really encapsulated the cranium, almost entirely covered bobbed hair, and obscured much of the face from certain angles, so it's easy to see why they've been somewhat reined in for the film. Still, it ends up looking more 1930s, where the hats started to recede away from the face, evolving in the direction of the pillbox.

Similarly, Tiana's hair is not very reminiscent of the bobbed, close-to-the-cranium style of the period, but I think that could legitimately be written off as characterization. She's not at all the type of person who'd fuss about going à la mode. Not everyone bobbed and finger-waved their hair.

The clothes Prince Naveen is introduced in are very 1920s collegiate in spirit - the wide-leg oxford bags, the sleeveless pullover sweater, the flat cap, and high, stiff collar. The ukulele and banjolele were pretty trendy instruments at the time too.

Definitely some Josephine Baker vibes here. Also, the look of this whole fantasy sequence was reportedly inspired by the works of Aaron Douglas, a luminary painter of the Harlem Renaissance known for his depictions of the lives of African-Americans. (The mural is in Topeka, Kansas.)

They pretty much nailed the Art Deco. It's gorgeous. Looks somewhat inspired by the interiors of some of the Ralph Walker-designed NYC architecture, plus some French Quarter balcony flair for the final manifestation of Tiana's Place. Her dress here does resemble some gauzy mid-1920s looks, too.

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Culturally speaking...

New Orleans is an unusual place. Because some of the colonial Spanish and French laws and conventions that New Orleans evolved under persisted even after its inception into the United States; because it was such a heterogeneous hub of indigenous and immigrant peoples; and because it had a considerable population of free people of color (mostly Creole), it did not function quite like the rest of the South leading up to the Civil War, nor for a while after. Its particular coalescence of cultures made it its own unique sort of culture within the country, within the region, within the state of Louisiana even. By the early 20th century, though, regardless of the not-very-binary nature of New Orleans, Jim Crow laws were enforcing a literal black-and-white distinction, and not an evenhanded one, by far. In that aspect, the city had begun to resemble the rest of the South.

The film nods at the wealth disparity, but goes on to paint a pretty rosy picture of race and class relations at the time. Still it's not unbelievable that some people were exceptions to the rules. You could probably find a few compartments of old New Orleans society that resisted segregation or certain prejudicial norms, preferring to do things their own way. That aside, the film wasn't trying to confront these topics. Not every piece of media should have to. Sometimes breaking away from miserable period piece stereotypes is refreshing. I'm not sure it could have handled that meaningfully given the running time, narrow story focus, and intended audience, anyhow. (But you could perhaps also make a case that family films habitually underestimate younger audiences in this way.)

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Raymond the firefly I guess is the film's Cajun representation. There's not much to say about it, except perhaps to note that Evangeline is a reference to the heroine of a Longfellow poem of the same name. The poem is an epic romance set during the expulsion of the Acadians from the eastern provinces of Canada and the northernmost reaches of the American colonies (now Maine) by the British in the mid-1700s. Many exiled Acadians gradually migrated south to francophone-friendly Louisiana, settling into the prairies and bayous, where 'Acadian' truncated into the pronunciation 'Cajun'. Evangeline - who is only finally reunited with her love when he’s on his deathbed - has become an emblem of the heartbreak, separation and faithful hope of that cultural history, and there are parishes, statues and other landmarks named after the her throughout Louisiana.

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Voodoo does have a very historical presence in New Orleans, having arrived both directly from West Africa and by way of the Haitian diaspora (where it would more properly be called Vodou). While I don't think Disney's treatment of it was especially sensitive or serious, it also wasn't the grotesquely off-base sort of thing that media of the past has been known to do. It was largely whittled down to a magical plot component, but it wasn't so fully repurposed that it didn't resemble Voodoo at all either - and that's mostly owing to the characters, because it does appear the writers pulled from history there.

It’s apparently widely held that Dr. Facilier is a Baron Samedi caricature - and likely that's true, in part - but I have the impression he's also influenced by Doctor John. Not the 20th century funk musician, but the antebellum “Voodoo King” of New Orleans. Doctor John (also called Bayou John, Jean La Ficelle, and other aliases) claimed to be a Senegalese prince. He became well known as a potion man and romance-focused prognosticator to people from all corners of society. Though highly celebrated and financially successful at his peak, he seems ultimately remembered as an exploitative villain.

To my recollection, the film sort of gingerly avoids referring to Facilier as a Voodoo practitioner directly (I think he's more generically called a witch doctor in the script?) but it does seem to imply his 'friends on the other side' are a consortium of loa. It's mostly abbreviated into nebulously evil-seeming special FX, glazing over any specificity or dimensionality, but it does also loop back around as a vehicle of moral justice. Loa are all very individualistic and multi-faceted, but they do have reciprocal rules for asking favors of them.

There's also the benevolent counterpart in Mama Odie's character. Her wearing ritual whites has a definite basis in Voodoo/Vodou practice, and her depiction as a fairy godmother-like figure isn't entirely out of step with how a mambo may have been perceived...in a very general sense. They were/are ceremonial leaders and community bastions who people would seek out for help, advice and spiritual guidance. More than just emanating matronly good vibes, though, some have wielded considerable political and economic power.

(Just my opinions here. I've done a lot of reading on the subject for research but I'm no authority with any special insider understanding of Voodoo, and I really shouldn't be relied upon as an arbiter of who has or hasn't done it justice in fiction.)

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In summary--

Culturally, I think the film is respectably informed but paints a superficially genteel picture. The set pieces are gorgeous, but the story mostly delivers a sort of veneer of New Orleanishness. And as for fashion, well, it’s the 1920s run through a Disney filter. It’s very pretty, but it’s only as proximally accurate as seemed practical.

I don’t know that any of that really matters so much as whether or not it achieved what it intended, though. As a charming yarn and as a tribute to New Orleans and the Jazz age, I think it’s mostly successful. It’s also really beautifully animated!

#princess and the frog #disney #1920s #new orleans #jazz #fashion #voodoo #vodou #history #animation #art deco

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david-talks-sw · 1 year

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"If it's amazing, they'll know."

When talking about "George Lucas' vision" and the original six Star Wars films, there's one thing to bear in mind and that's Lucas' style of filmmaking.

These are movies for kids, designed to emulate the Saturday matinee serial format from the '30s, à la Flash Gordon. You see this most of all in the dialog. But something else you notice is George Lucas' filmmaking style, particularly in how he films and edits.

Take Darth Vader's introduction, for example.

Look at the composition: Vader stands tall, in contrast to the - as the script puts it - "fascist white armored suits of the Imperial stormtroopers". They're all in white, he's all in black, he's bigger badder, emerging from a cloud of smoke. What an entrance.

But if you think about it, it's just a single full shot. Very basic.

Compare this to Kenobi, wherein Vader is treated like a monster out of a horror movie. First, you glimpse his shadow, people reacting...

... then ominous bits and pieces like his boots or his lightsaber...

... and finally Vader himself, in all his terrifying glory.

That's a modern way of shooting it and it admittedly makes ol' Darth seem that much more imposing and absolutely badass.

But Lucas comes from a background of editing, experimental filmmaking and used to work as a documentary cameraman.

So what he did is just put the camera down and have Vader walk in. It's a faster yet differently-efficient way to introduce the character. It's more about dynamic pacing and visuals.

And that is Lucas' style. In his words:

"The way these films were put together, they're shot very much like a documentary film and the action of stage, and then I shoot around it. I don't stage for the camera. And as a result, there are a lot of things that happen pretty much by accident. It lends an aura of authenticity to everything." - Star Wars - Episode I: Podracing Featurette, 1999

Another example: the introduction of General Grievous.

A door opens revealing his ugly mug and he walks in. Boom.

But in Star Wars Storyboards: The Prequel Trilogy, you find that - as envisioned by the storyboard artists - our introduction to Grievous would've been very different.

"We wanted to have the introduction to Grievous be a series of really close shots that would be a series of details: his creepy foot, his creepy hand...

... his scary alien eyes...

... but George brought up an interesting point. He didn't want the film to concentrate on one design detail or one element— but rather let the world be there and let the viewer find those things without necessarily having it shoved in their face." - Derek Thompson, SW Storyboards: The Prequel Trilogy, 2013

"George nixed the idea, saying: 'I don't want something to be special because of how it's filmed, but because of what it is. Just put the camera on it and let it play out in front of the audience. If it's amazing, they'll know.'" - Iain McCaig, SW Storyboards: The Prequel Trilogy, 2013

That's it in a nutshell. "If it's amazing, they'll know."

The above storyboards look awesome and seeing Grievous be introduced that way would be great... but it wouldn't be Lucas' Star Wars. It would be some other director taking a crack at it.

And this way of shooting can be weird, even boring, at times. I mean compare Mace leading his troops into battle...

... to Aragorn leading his, in Return of the King.

The latter is so much more emotionally impactful. For a number of reasons (eg: Aragorn is a deuteragonist, Mace is a secondary character with less development), but one of them is that the moment is just shot in a way that's more interesting.

First we have an angle on Aragorn as he smiles and charges. Then the rest of the other characters as they react and follow suit, then the troops do the same.

With Mace it's, uh, *checks notes* he flourishes his saber and charges, the clones follow. Hell, for half a second we're looking at just an empty screen.

But y'know what the shot does look like?

It looks like something out of a WW1 documentary.

It's that authenticity he was mentioning further up.

At the end of the day, you can call it campy or bad... it's Lucas' style. It's cinema. There's a logic to it.

"To me, the script is just a sketchbook, just a list of notes, and, sometimes, I prefer the documentary feel of free flow, so I let my instincts tell me where to go. I like to create cinematically; I don't like to have a plan. I like to have a rough idea of what I'm going to do-certain themes, certain issues I'm going to deal with-and then I try to do so." - The Making of Revenge of The Sith, page 116, 2005

He doesn't try to make a character look particularly badass with camera angles or make the shot too choreographed, he just goes with the flow, and makes the deliberate choice to shoot it that way, because for better or for worse... it's his movie.

So yeah, just a tidbit I thought would be interesting.

Edit:

@schilkeman added this very interesting point in the replies:

"He doesn’t stage for the camera, but he does compose for the camera. The documentary style, while somewhat detached, requires the filling of the screen with motion and light. The way things move through frame seem very important to him. These are things his films excel at."

#george lucas #lucas quotes #cinema

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artbyblastweave · 7 months

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An aesthetic decision I really like about the Mad Max setting- focusing on Fury Road in particular here- is that the timeline and the setting deliberately defy coherence. Countless elements of our world have carried over- the guns, the vehicles, the musical instruments, the religious concepts, and nominally some of the actual people- but the world is geographically impossible, you don't see much contemporary architecture even in a ruined state, and there's no version of the timeline where this can be the same Max Rockatansky as the original films. But it is. The incongruities are deliberate. The setting is mythic, these are campfire tales told about Max, the King Arthur or the Omnipresent Jack figure of the new age. The world that was is swallowed in myth, the world that exists is borrowing some of the old world toys, and being up-front and bombastic with signifiers of the mythic and abstracted nature of the setting absolves you of the need to make the worldbuilding make sense- or rather, to make it make sense in the way you'd have to take a stab at if you had a year-by-year internal worldbuilding timeline of How Everything Went Down.

Fallout 1 is not exactly like this. It can't be, because you could kill a man with an overhead swing of the setting bible. But it's tapping into a similar impulse. People in the first game are using old world tech, but they don't really live in the old world; they live in settlements using materials scavenged from the old world, or in old world towns that were unimportant enough back then that their current identity totally overwrites whatever came before. They don't live in LA: They live in the Boneyard, which gives you a pretty good idea of how much of what we think of as "LA" would be recognizable as such if we were exploring the space in first-person perspective. When you encounter an area that has a direct, well-documented, and unambiguous connection to the old world, it's a Big Deal, and they're hard places to get to- places that the average person living their life in the wastes would die trying to access. Of particular note in this dynamic is The Brotherhood of Steel- for all their technical understanding of the knowledge they hoard, they've clearly seems to have undergone a few rounds of Canticle-style cultural telephone, mutating from Recognizably The American Military into a knightly order. Fallout 2 does this to a lesser extent- it has more settlements directly named after their pre-war counterparts- but it's also a game about a society that's starting to pull back together and form into something resembling the old world, for better or for worse. And it reproduces the trend of stuff with a direct, legible connection to the old world being inscrutable and dangerous to outsiders- specifically with the reveal that the Enclave consider themselves to be the direct continuation of the pre-war government, that they've just kept electing presidents out on that stupid little oil rig. I haven't really made up my mind on whether the timeframes of the games- 84 years followed by 164 years- actually work for the vibe they're going for, in particular it doesn't work with Arroyo- but on the whole, the vibe coheres.

You get into the 3d games, and it becomes much harder to continue to pull this off. One major tool that Fallouts 1 and 2 used to maintain that sense of abstraction was the overland travel map; you were visiting island of society in a vast sea of Nothing. You had encounter cells that consisted of burnt-out, looted shells of cities, maybe good for a camp site but not as anything else. Another important tool towards this end was the isometric camera angle. In a topdown worldspace you can scrub out a lot of environmental details that would be immediately recognizable to the player as artifacts of our present society if you were exploring the space in 1st person. The examine button can feed you vague, uncertain descriptions that convey enough detail to make the item recognizable while also conveying that there's been a level of information decay. Once you move into a 3d worldspace you lose both of these elements- the worldspace is what it is, I can walk across it in eleven minutes stripping it for loot as I go. I can read every sign on every still-standing building, and I've got eyeballs on every old-world bit-and-bobble with a handy interface description of what I'm looking at. And you hit random encounters in the 3d games at basically the same rate, in real-world time, that you did in the isometrics- but the isometrics could successfully abstract it out to represent that you were hitting something noteworthy every couple of weeks, while in the 3d games it's kinda inescapable that you keep getting jumped every single day walking back and forth up the same stretch of road. Not only is it recognizable, it's cramped.

I think that Fallout 3, to its credit, did a decent job of navigating this and trying to maintain the islands-in-a-sea-of-nothing vibe from the isometrics- most of the settlements are built slapdash in places that were obviously never intended for long-term human habitation (bomb craters, overpasses, suburbs), the landmark-heavy city proper is textually a difficult-to-navigate deathtrap, and the poison-sky green filter, memeworthy as it is, does help shore up the impression that you're inviting death by trying to move through the space. Fallout: New Vegas I think addresses this by going in the total opposite direction; It's set in an area of the country where the infrastructure was abnormally well preserved, and the pre-war culture was revived artificially, and from a thematic standpoint it's really interested in digging into the implications of those two things. The fact that the lonely-empty-decontextualized-void aesthetic isn't long for this world dovetails well with the cowboy themes. They have a fair number of future-imperfect context-collapse gags but they don't overdo it by any stretch of the imagination.

Fallout 4, from many directions, is sort of catching the worst of the heat here. The world is recognizable, aggressively so. In fairly-authentically recreating the suburban sprawl of the Northeast, Bethesda simply surrounded the inhabitants of the commonwealth with too much Boston for a sense of true distance from our world to be possible. Everyone still has the accents. They still know the names of all the old neighborhoods. They're still doing the "Park your car" bit. It's still Boston. And it's a busy Boston, too- you can't throw a rock without hitting a farming settlement that's doing well enough to attract tribute-seeking bandits. It's densely packed with points of interest, and those points of interest are packed to the brim with salvageable materials that, going off of the new crafting system, should be in enormous demand to the people who've been living in this area for 210 years. The game doesn't really advance a satisfying explanation, even an aesthetic explanation like fallout 3's poison sky, for why everything around you hasn't been stripped clean before you even came off the ice, why all these environmental storytelling tableaus are just waiting for you to find. It doesn't spend nearly enough time hammering out what the 200-year chronology of the most-livable area seen in a Fallout game looks like- Why don't you see something comparable to the NCR emerging? Something something CPG massacre (which is mentioned twice in the whole game, AFAICT.) And what's being lost here, right, is the ability to use the sands of time to smooth over rough spots in the worldbuilding, in the chronology. You can't hide behind the idea that the world you're experiencing is mythologized. It's presented as real, and it doesn't make much sense if it's real!

And to top it off- Fallout 4 probably has the highest density of characters who were actually there, by some means or another. The Vault Tec rep, Daisy, The Triggermen, Nick Valentine, Eddie Winter, the vault 118 inhabitants, Arlen Glass, Oswald, Kent Connolly, The whole of Cabot House, Captain Zao, The kid in the goddamn fridge and his goddamn parents, and uh. The big one. You. You, the player. Which is such a goddamn splinter under my skin, from a storytelling perspective. You were present in the before-times- but only nominally, only to the exact degree necessary to establish that that was the case. The ugly shit is alluded to, but not incorporated into the character's day-to-day in a way that's obvious to the player, you're there for like six minutes and it's pretty nifty if you overlook that bit at the end where everyone got nuked. Your ability to talk about the world before is always vague, vacuous, superficial. The dirty laundry you dig up on terminals around Boston never seems to meaningfully impact your character's worldview, their impressions of the then and the now. All of which combine to make this the simultaneously the most specific but also the most frustratingly vague game in the series. At its best, Fallout's love of juxtaposing the then and the now would make it a great setting for the Rip Van Winkle routine. But it requires a strong, strong understanding of what the world was like before and after, a willingness to use the protagonist to constantly grind the jagged edges of those things against each other, a protagonist with a better-defined outlook than Bethesda's open-ended-past approach allowed for- and it has to be in service of a greater point. And for Fallout 4 to do anything with any of that, the game would have to be about something instead of being something for you to do. Maddening. Maddening.

#fallout #fallout meta #thoughts #meta #fallout 4 #fallout 3 #fallout new vegas #fallout 1 #fallout 2 #fallout analysis

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fili-urzudel · 11 months

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Dating Bofur Headcanons

This may be a bit unusual, but I'm inaugurating my blog with a Bofur post because he does not get anywhere near the love and appreciation he deserves. Also, I have a lot of headcanons for a lot of characters. I'm not running out for a while.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, inebriation

Word Count: 0.7k

- You first meet when the party has stopped in a town along the way near the beginning of their journey

- They're in the pub, making the worst sort of ruckus but at least their food and ale will make a pretty piece of coin for the barkeep

- He's... a little intoxicated when you get to know each other

- But that's really just because he's been (very obviously) staring at you since you walked in

- You think it's a bit strange that a dwarf is showing such obvious interest in you, but you'll go with it

- Unlike many other men who have shown interest, he keeps a respectful distance, no touching

- He's just attempting to flirt with you and flushing when you flirt back

- "You're quite funny," you giggle, oblivious to the way his companions stare at the interaction with confused awe. "Emil, some more pints for me and my friend here," you call to the bartender, settling a hand on his shoulder.

- You hardly even noticed that you brushed past the end of his braid

- When you look back at him, he seems to have temporarily frozen

- "You alright?"

- He gives you a tight grin and nods before laughing nervously. "Aye, just... may have had too many pints already," he excuses.

- "Ah, is there any such thing?" You joke.

- He chills out again pretty quickly (you know, with the central nervous system depression and all)

- As Thorin is rounding them all up to go find someplace to sleep, he decides he wants to leave you something to remember him by

- He pulls a mostly-finished whittled doll from some pocket in his coat, you weren't watching close enough to see exactly where it came from

- "Here," he says, nearly slurring, pressing the doll into your palm. "It's a gift for you."

- You raise your eyebrows with a smile, studying the doll from every angle. he was quite talented, actually

- "Thank you, Bofur," you say, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek

- Mans goes RED

- You think he stutters out a good evening before he's dragged off by Bombur and Bifur

- He tags along with Bilbo on his way back to the Shire

- When Gloin asks why, he has one simple answer

- "Well, my friend, I believe I made a long-term deposit of my own," Bofur replies, briefly removing his hat to smooth his hair.

- He knows, he knows it's a long shot

- You're a human and you might not even remember him

- But there's something about that night, the way you kissed his cheek, that he just can't shake

- And he wants to get as far away from the place where his king died as he can

- He just so happens to see you entering your house as he comes into town, your hair conveniently worn in just the same style as when you first met

- He wanders around for a few hours, not wanting to bother you when you've only just returned home or seem too eager

- When you open your door for whomever is knocking, you have to look down to realize that someone is actually there.

- "Good day, las--my lady," the strange dwarf says, hat pressed to his chest.

- "Good... day?" You greet. "I'm sorry, have I met you?"

- His face falls for a moment before he seems to have an idea

- He secures his hat back on his head, smiling up at you hopefully

- "Bofur!" You cry, surprised and delighted.

- "At your service, my lady," he bows briefly

- "Whatever are you doing here?"

- "I still have your figurine," you proclaim proudly, showing him in. "I hope you don't mind too terribly, but I made her some clothes..."

- You get to talking and, well, your town has always needed a toymaker

- So he sets up shop right next to your business; you're close enough to some mountains, at least

- You two become sort of local legend, in the "they're the strangest bunch we've had around for a long while" kind of way

- Not that either of you mind

- You love your eventual husband that's quite a bit shorter than you

#lotr #lotr fanfic #bofur the dwarf #Bofur #bofur x reader #the hobbit bofur #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #Bofur x OC #Bofur x Reader #headcanons #bofur headcanons #lotr headcanons #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x y/n #mae writes

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midnightsoldier187 · 1 year

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I honestly think and I hate to say it. I don't think we will ever see Jake Muzzin play hockey again let alone in the NHL.

He has had such a string of nasty and dangerous back injuries and I understand he is a warrior, but he is one injury away from life altering consequences and honestly we may already be there.

Someone needs to sit him down and say look you are 34 years old do want to be paralyzed for the rest of your life? Do you want to be able to play with your kids? Do you want to live long enough to see your grandchildren? Because that's is where we are at.

He was beloved as a Leaf and as a King. He's had a great career, I wish him all the best and a know he will get a beautiful send off from both the Leafs and King.

It's time to hang up the skates for him and his family sake.

#nhl #toronto maple leafs #leafs #las angles kings #kings #jake muzzin #this made me so sad to write #i have tears in my eyes

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kissingelvis · 1 year

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BLUE VELVET

(Elvis x Reader)

summary: After a heated argument with Elvis you hand his engagement ring back and head to Vegas where he finds you once again though this time it's followed by an overwhelming rollercoaster of events as you live on to tell your story with the king

A/N: Hii This is my first fic and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this first part. I have ideas flowing through my head DAILY so I was like why not get into writing yk? I wanna be able to write more of this story because I just have so much to think about it. This part is a bit boring but plz bare with me because the next chapter will be so much better I swear! I plan to have smut in this story so look out for that?!? but yeah enjoy!!!

Fandom/character - ELVIS

Fem!Reader, NOTPROOF READ

TW: Cursing, Brief Mentions of alcohol/Drinking, Brief mention of death (kinda?), typical Elvis things ofc , LET ME KNOW IF MORE

If you want a better view of how the reader is I recommand listening !!!

Vegas, 1969

Click, and The flash goes off on the camera that's shooting you getting every angle Click and again. You like to make sure the photographer gets every piece of you to show off the gorgeous curves you have been saving.

After handing back an engagement ring from Elvis Presley you left and became a serious actress in Las Vegas you have made it your Home. You made yourself a home in the biggest suite at the only international hotel. You were quite a big deal here. You decided it was time to make a name for yourself instead of just being Elvis’ girl and being no one. You thought acting would do you well for now since you were only starting. It's been only a year since you started but you already have your face plastered on magazines and movie posters. It would be overwhelming at times but you learned to enjoy it quickly with all the gifts and treatment you would give yourself.

The fame has indeed made you happy until the storm of loneliness hits you like a truck. Money can buy you happiness but only temporarily, you’ve been missing the touch and feel of a man since your last love. You’re starved for affection really, as dumb as it sounds all you craved was the potential marriage you had left behind.

Your thoughts cave into you at once hitting you fast. The bright studio lights feel as if they are 10x brighter than before hitting you in all directions. You then hear your photographer shout and your photoshoot is all wrapped up in seconds “Alright we’re all set for today Ms. Y/L/N” your photographer says while putting his camera to the side. “Thank you” You flash him a quick smile not being a big talker even though you're an actress. You wrap yourself up with the robe left for you and walk toward your dressing room.

Once you reached your dressing room you walk in with a cold breeze of air hitting you like you just walked into heaven itself. You race for your chair that's waiting for you by your giant vanity and are in a rush to take off your heels that have been killing you all day you just could not stand heels anymore. Now that they were finally off you reach for the box of makeup wipes that were sitting by the gigantic vanity mirror next to all your essentials.

You grab a small wipe and gently start rubbing your face off any unnecessary makeup that was needed for the shoot, but you leave your eyeliner untouched. You were quite known for having eyeliner most of the time you were just so fascinated by the way it was worn. Elvis had taught you how to do eyeliner when you first met him and have been doing it ever since, it was just so beautiful to you.

After wiping away almost any makeup left you grabbed the closest wine glass you could find which was by the mini wine fridge you had installed yourself under your vanity dresser. You were quite proud of yourself for that! You reached down to grab the glass and the old wine bottle almost empty sitting on the floor and poured yourself what was left. You made your way to a black velvet couch that was sitting in the middle of the room and made yourself comfortable. You flicked on the television and flickered through the channels til you found a soothing romance movie that was playing, you decided to just go with that. You managed to finish the wine after the first 10 minutes of watching and placed your empty glass on the black marble coffee table.

After a couple of hours had gone by you were awakened by a loud knock on your door “Who is it?” you shouted “Its me Y/N, now open this gawd damn door!” hearing the voice you knew exactly who it was

You got up from the couch and ran over to the door to open it and see it was your best friend Ana.

You and Ana became friends way before you and Elvis got engaged, she actually was a wife of jerry schilling a member of the Memphis mafia, she eventually helped you move to Vegas and get yourself involved in the movie industry.

“Whats brings you to this fine place of mine, Princess Ana” you say twirling around showing her your dressing room

“Well, I came here to invite ya to a show tonight!” Ana said with a smile poking through her

“Oh, really, and who could possibly be performing” you say turning around to grab yourself a snack of a banana with a nice whip of peanut butter.

“Egh-uh- Just a local band, they were invited by the international!” Ana spat out with a stutter

You turned back around to her with a small side eye

“hmm alright, ill go, under one condition!”

“Anythin’ Darlin” Ana shook her head and through her hands up in a pleading pose

“Drinks on you” you took a bit of your banana

“Oh I knew you were going to say that, don’t worry it's all on international tonight” she gave you a wink and quickly made her way out

“Oh and don’t forget, the shows are at 7:30!” and she was gone

A couple of hours had gone by since

Realizing the time, you dropped peanut butter on your gorgeous robe “Shiet” you whispered shuffling into your closet. You shift through your hangers and the many costumes that just stayed there hanging.

After a few minutes of shifting back and forth you landed on a blue velvet mini-dress it was strapless and perfect for the night it came with a pair of blue velvet gloves. You quickly grabbed them and rushed out of your closet to get dressed and ready, you slipped on the mini dress, it fit perfectly around your curves and complemented your breasts.

You went to your vanity and added a beautiful dark red lip and enhanced your black mole above your lip, you decided to add a small lash to be just a bit dramatic, and you then went to fix your hair that sat in a long bouffant on your head. After adding the finishing touches you slipped on your blue gloves and grabbed your clutch and headed out the door. It was already 7:00 pm by the time you were done getting ready, the show started at 7:30 so you felt in no rush. For now at least.

Walking through the studio you headed out the front and there was a black Cadillac waiting for you to take you back to the international.

Press was already swarmed by ur side trying to get every angle of you, FLASH CLICK FLASH CLICK you hear as you walk through smiling and waving as a driver opens your door for you. Grabbing onto the handle you pushed yourself inside and landed on the tan seats of the Cadillac then giving the press a blown kiss and closed the door. The driver sped away into the next lane and on the road to the hotel.

You stare out the window watching the lights pass in streams, this was one thing you loved about being in Vegas, the lights were something to absolutely die for.

While pulling to the front of the hotel the sign of the international hotel beams in front of you...

‘INTERNATIONAL bill miller presents… ELVIS’

The driver finally made it to the hotel and opened your door, you placed one foot on the floor and hopped out, you grabbed your clutch that was sitting right next to you. You started making your way toward the front while the press was forming once again, you were smiling and waving while people were handing you pictures of yourself to sign.

While signing pictures you landed on a picture of you and Elvis together next to his pink Cadillac, he had his hand wrapped around your waist and a cigar in another, both of you smiling. You felt as though people still considered you together. You quickly signed it and handed it back to whoever it came from, you rushed inside and made your little way to the showroom where every wall had a picture of Elvis plastered on it.

Walking into the room it was already very dim since it was mere minutes before the man of the hour would appear, the room was filled with many small tables and booths for its size. The tables were covered in a white satin tablecloth and had small candles with bowls of champagne submerged in ice, the tables were set for a big night ahead of them.

You were already late so you tiptoed through the crowd that was already in place, you saw Ana sitting at one of the booths straight in the middle with the best view of the small stage. Slowly making your way to the table you rushed to take your seat next to her.

“Thought you stood me up sugar,” Ana said with a side eye followed by a smirk “Oh me? Never dear,” you said while grabbing the champagne out of the ice.

“A band Ana? I didn’t know the Band was ELVIS!?” you said while facing Ana nursing her drink

“Listen Y/N it's been years you’re in the clear trust me,” she said with a smile plastered across her face excited to see the show that was about to take place

You hadn't seen Elvis since the night you two got into a fight and you handed his ring back to him. You felt all the feelings you could feel run straight through you, you were about to see the man whose heart you shattered and never saw again.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty, what he thinks of you if he saw you? All the feelings that had rushed through you when he appeared.

There he was, the beautiful man you once loved and would’ve just about anything for. Elvis walked onto the stage greeting the crowd, he was dressed in a black herringbone suit with a dark blue satin scarf tied around his neck. He walked out holding his signature guitar and a beautiful smile on his face.

Due to your best friend's horrible choice of seating, it wasn’t long before Elvis looked your way and quickly recognized who you were.

You gave him a warm smile and a little wave hoping he wouldn’t hate you, but you saw his nervousness fade away when a smile started to appear across his lips. You felt a small relief in your chest as you saw the light in his eyes twinkle while looking in your direction, you shifted in your seat getting yourself comfortable for the show

He started the show with introductions then slowly made his way into suspicious minds, you could tell this was his favorite by the way he was moving, he was so charismatic and you could feel yourself falling in love with him once again. After a couple more songs Love me tender finally started to play, surprisingly you saw Elvis starting to kiss every fan in the front row of the stage.

Love me tender

Love me sweet

Never let me go

You have made my life complete

And I love you so

While singing Elvis walked down the steps to the side of the stage and made his way to the line of booths that you were sitting at, he started to kiss every girl that was within them.

Love me tender

Love me true

All my dreams fulfilled

For my darlin' I love you

And I always will

Elvis quickly approaching your booth would every so often pick his head up and check to see if you were still in the seat he saw you in or even if he was even dreaming.

You felt your body go hot, your hands were gathering sweat in them as you were watching him approach you. Your heart was galloping as fast as a horse in a derby race, waiting for his touch.

He finally reached your table and slowly lowered the microphone he was holding singing the end of love me tender, he bent over the large round table and quickly latched his lips on yours. The feel of his pillow lips was so warming, he kissed you as if you were engaged again.

He finally pulled away and with the microphone low he whispered a small request that you couldn’t quite hear after having the beating of your heart ringing in your ears.

He walked his way back towards the stage turning back around to give you a small smile.

After another hour the end of the show finally arrived, and you were quite tired and ready to leave.

Slowly sliding out of the booth you grabbed your clutch and stood to face Ana.

“You’re not leavin’ are ya?” Ana says with a frustrated tone in her voice

“I'm a bit worn out Ana and it's late,” you said rubbing your head a bit

“Oh don’t say that! You can't tell me that kiss from Elvis didn’t wake ya?! I saw you turn redder than a tomato” Ana chuckles at you “ooo redder than a tomato” mocking Ana's voice

“c’mon now we're invited to the after party!” she says as she grabs your arm guiding you out of the showroom...

Your heart flutters at the fact you might see Elvis again, but you're truly scared to talk to him. Your mind turns into a little schoolgirl when you think of him but you can't help it.

After Ana had led you into the main hall of the hotel you see the showroom start to slowly empty out and into a backroom full of actors and actresses to see their king

You and Ana follow the crowd into the back which its crowded and full of people, the room has a large bar on the side and a large red curved couch taking up most of the space.

“Now this is what I call a show Y/N!” Ana shouts before vanishing into the crowd.

‘What a crook, guess ill have to keep me busy’ you think

Only a few minutes in and you have already lost your talkative and only friend, you head straight to the bar in hopes to cheer yourself up from the night you have encountered already.

“ ‘scuse me?” you says waving your hand to the bartender “Hi, May I please have a whiskey, on the rocks”

“Of Course Ms. Y/L/N” the bartender says spinning around to get to work

You turn back around facing the crowd crossing your legs to keep decency, you peer around to make sure no Elvis Presley is in your sight.

Elvis, just hearing or thinking of his name sent a lump in your throat, almost as if someone was choking you to death.

The love you felt for Elvis was almost... Unreal? It would hurt then times it felt good, he was the love of your life but you weren’t ready to face him not just yet...

Lost in thought you hadn't even noticed the bartender trying to get your attention, “Ms. Y/L/N? Ms. Y/L/N?” the bartender repeated.

Looking over your shoulder “Oh my goodness I apologize I was completely lost in thought”

“No problem it's normal for me almost every day!” the bartender said with a chuckle

You giggle as you grabbed the glass and turned back around but as soon as you turn you are met with a chest directly in front of you

“Ugh-” you let out a small yelp “I'm so sorry I can't seem to get myself together toda-” you stop dead in your sentence to look up and see Elvis towering directly in front of you

“Hello, Honeybee”

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sassyfrassboss · 3 months

Note

Oh they are fully angling for a half in half out solution. I really do think they’ll sell there current property in mochetio and buy closer to La and a second property in England. We’re going to get a major Pr offensive closer to TCP about the children joining. I ultimately don’t think they will but Meghan is going to pump as much out of it as she can.

The Royal Re-Brand

They are going back to the only thing that actually worked for them.

Harry is the son of the King. That's what they are going to focus on.

Their Jamaica appearance makes sense now. They are angling for a Commonwealth gig and back in the fold.

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joelletwo · 8 days

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[about Las Meninas:] Standing like understudies in the place where the king and queen would be, we recognize (vaguely disappointed) that the faces looming from the mirror are not our own and we all but see (if the angle did not keep jumping out of focus) that point where we disappear into ourselves in order to look. A point lying in the gap between ourselves and them. Attempts to focus on that point pull the mind into vertigo, while at the same time a particular acute delight is present. We long to see that point, although it tears us. Why? There is no stillness at that point. Its components split and diverge each time we try to bring them into focus, as if interior continents were wrenching askew in the mind. It is not a point upon which we can gaze in such a way as to peacefully converge with the king and queen in one image there, one noun. That point is a verb. Each time we look at it, it acts. How? [...] Consider Zeno’s well-known paradoxes. They are arguments against the reality of reaching an end. Zeno’s runner never gets to the finish line of the stadium, Zeno’s Achilles never overtakes the tortoise, Zeno’s arrow never hits the target (see Arist., Ph. 239b5-18; 263a4-6). These are paradoxes about paradox. Each one contains a point where the reasoning seems to fold into itself and disappear, or at least that is how it feels. Each time it disappears, it can begin again, and so the reach continues. If you happen to enjoy reasoning, you are delighted to begin again. On the other hand, your enjoyment of reasoning must entail some wish to arrive at a conclusion, so your delight has an edge of chagrin. [...] You like being situated at that blind but lively point where your reason is viewing itself—or almost viewing itself. Why?

#jr readings #sort of quoting around my point bc all the bits where she talks directly about how metaphor fits into this are long long paras #beautiful paras! evocative paras! but shit quotes for tumblr posts lol

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disco-elysium-via-polls · 2 months

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UNLOCKABLE CHECKS

ENCYCLOPEDIA - [Medium] Find the source of the Expression.

RHETORIC - [Legendary] Convince Gaston to give us his sandwich, [Impossible] Open cargo container door.

CONCEPTUALIZATION - [Impossible] What's up with the backyard wall?

VOLITION - [Challenging] Ring the doorbell again, [Medium] Ask Joyce about the pale.

SUGGESTION - [Medium] Why is Annette familiar?

PAIN THRESHOLD - [Medium] Find a Man from Hjelmdall book.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - [Challenging] Is Roy high? [Impossible] Stop making the Expression.

COMPOSURE - [Legendary] What makes Rene stand so proud?

REACTION SPEED - [Medium] Find a Dick Mullen book.

INTERFACING - [Challenging] Fix the broken faucet in our hotel room, [Medium] Find a figurine in Roy’s store.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - [Legendary] What kind of gun fired the bullet?

MAGNESIUM-BASED LIFEFORM

Temporary bonus: -1 Shivers: No shakes

It is generally understood that human beings are carbon-based organisms, fusing little carbon tubes together to form complex, mushy structures capable of thought, love, and locomotion. It is also known that these structures sometimes like to “take the edge off” by consuming ethanol, amphetamine, etc. In such cases, it is important to supplement your body with magnesium. Tired? Mag it! Down? Mag time! Liver damage? MAXIMUM MAG! Some people say magnesium doesn’t really do anything and you just need to quit. What do we tell them?

THE JAMROCK SHUFFLE

Temporary bonus: -1 Esprit de Corps: Confusing behavior

By now it’s clear you like to look inside containers. You like to open doors and see what’s behind them. Maybe secrets? Maybe... more juicy containers? Let’s be honest, you like *all* containers. Trash cans, utensil trays, manholes, coat pockets, secret containers left behind by the Filippian kings that hold forbidden relics. Okay, you haven’t come across one of those yet, but *one day*... Wait. Is that why you’re so hellbent on opening containers? Do you think you’ll find the Holy Scepter and the Orbe de Montagne?

DETECTIVE COSTEAU

Temporary bonus: -2 Conceptualization: An idiotic idea

Detective Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau -- when you say it, it feels like you're taking a bite of lemon meringue while sitting on the terrace of a seaside cafe. On a cool summer day. In Sur-La-Clef. It's everything you're *not*. You haven't created many things during your stay in Martinaise, but you've created this. A fancy, sophisticated name that makes you sound intelligent. And that no one seems to *acknowledge*. Don't you feel like you deserve a reward for coming up with something so special? And what would that reward *be*?

BRINGING OF THE LAW (LAW-JAW)

Temporary bonus: -1 Rhetoric: Weird jaw

Hey, so a little observation. It's all cool, man. Don't freak out, but every time you say “I am the law“ -- and you say it *a lot*, it's basically *hello* for you -- your jaw does this *weird thing*. It sort of shifts sideways, hanging off your face at a jaunty angle, while the word *law* sounds oddly guttural and low. It's... strange. You wouldn't notice it, but after saying you're the law eighty thousand times, the question *does* come up: why *do* you have Law Jaw?

#disco elysium #i know i said we probably won't be able to get the h/ec check and that's still true.#doesn't mean it's not worth putting points into if you want to get more passives or be better at it later

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kotamagic · 1 year

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And now, for the Lore Olympus chapter you've been waiting for!

Let's start off with this glorious masterpiece. I really thought they HAD gone back to the Underworld in this scene, but that was proven incorrect moments later.

The defeated look on Demeter's face is a (pun-intended) godsend. All of her bullshit, especially this "intervention," is coming down around her. The falling banner (a la Jurassic Park) is the cherry on top.

[Disclaimer: Demeter is not a huge bitch in EVERY telling of this Greek myth, but she is in LO.]

Not your fault, Persephone. What your mother says is on her, not you. Feel your feelings, vent, and then make like Elsa and Let It Go.

Also, I love the intimacy of this shot. Not just because Hades is butt-naked, but because of the raw openness/vulnerability they have in each other's arms.

I CAN'T GET OVER THIS SCENE!

The look on her face when she finally sees his Terms And Conditions!

Getting the impression that he wasn't poking her while cradling her from behind. Understandable from the emotion of the moment prior, but it was a thought that crossed my mind.

From the second shot, that's an indeterminate "wow" face.

Oh hey! Her hands got fixed too! Metis may have gotten the credit for this, but I feel like the whole breaking free of Demeter thing played a roll as well. Like, that nigh-permanent grip Demeter had on her is, at least emotionally, relieved, and that her hands are a visual metaphor for that.

...and Demeter's fucking insanity continues!

Remember how she said Hades was going to want something from her badly one day, and she was going to deny it of him? Whelp, here it is!

It does beg the question though--- does this embargo apply EVERYWHERE or just in the mortal realm/Olympus? Can it really apply in the Underworld since Hades is the king there?

Excellent logic, Poseidon. Best man SUPPORTS the groom instead of cock-blocking him.

The description of what happened according to Demeter. Outright comical! Love how Persephone is flailing about.

EVEN AT THIS ANGLE, STILL NO MAN-BITS! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!

Cliffhanger!!!!

This explains why Persephone can't get through to Hera, but what has Kronos done to her now???

Anyway, thanks for coming to my LO post!

#lore olympus #lo hades #lo persephone #lo demeter #lo zeus #lo poseidon #lo hera

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gegengestalt · 3 months

Note

may I ask what books you love outside of dostoevsky? ( if this sounds condescending or smth I really didn't mean it to be, I love dosto too, I'm just curious)

Don't feel bad about asking! I read quite a lot, it's just that I'm unable to let go of That One Book. I read both fiction and non- fiction (mostly philosophy, since it's my field of study).

Perhaps I'm a romantic at heart, being specially drawn to books such as Frankenstein, Wuthering Heights and The Sorrows of Young Werther. More classics I love are: The Quixote, Faust, One Hundred Years of Solitude, La Regenta, King Lear, War and Peace, Germinal, To The Lighthouse, The Plague and Orlando. I've also read the Hebrew Bible.

Some more modern ones that have stayed on my mind are Catch- 22, Beloved and The Left Hand of Darkness. I also think about American Psycho more than I probably should. One of these days I'll rank all the most disturbing books I've read.

This year I want to read more Elena Ferrante and Yukio Mishima. My Brilliant Friend (Ferrante) absolutely blew me away and I am both eager and scared to read the rest of Lila and Lenú's lives. From Mishima, I've read The Sailor who Fell from Grace with the Sea and Confessions of a Mask, and they both made a great impression on me. He's a controversial figure, but his writing is too fascinating.

I also want to read more poetry.

If we talk about non- fiction, off the top of my head I can name The Republic, Confessions of Saint Augustine, The Gay Science, Fear and Trembling, Man and the Divine and The Dialectic of Enlightenment. I don't think I "love" many of these types of books. Maybe another day I can talk about great philosophy works from another angle. Currently I'm reading through Critique of Pure Reason.

#gegengestalk #ask

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saucy-sassy-sparkly · 1 year

Text

Moments: Six

Pairings: Chris Evans x reader

Word Count: ~8k

Warnings: A little of everything: smut, fluff, angst, language, alcohol.

Note: As usual, the italics are flashbacks. I tried to give us some tidbits of the time they’ve been together without writing out six months! Bolds are text. I’m aware that the timeline in the real world of movie releases and shooting is off; it’s a work of fiction so I manipulated things to work in my favor… or I was as vague as possible to avoid anyone noticing.

This got filthier each time I came back to it. I’m not sorry; I’m into these two horndogs.

Moments Masterlist

2014: Washington DC (6 months together)

Chris: flight just landed, see you soon Y/N: 💋can’t wait to see you Chris: hope you didn’t make plans… Y/N: get here quick or i’ll start without you

Y/N hit send on the last message and then stared at the last picture she’d taken. She was heavily debating sending it to him. It had been two very long months since they’d seen each other and both Chris and Y/N were very open about how they planned to spend at least half of their time together.

She took a deep breath and attached the picture. It was simple and tasteful should it fall into the wrong hands, but did not leave a whole lot to the imagination. It was Y/N’s reflection in her floor-length mirror, sitting on the end of her bed in one of his flannels that she’d stolen the last time she saw him; the shirt was all the way unbuttoned and she had nothing on under it. She’d artfully draped the bottom of the shirt across her thighs to cover herself… but she was quite pleased with it.

Chris: i’m in public 🥵️ Y/N: seems like a you problem

She giggled to herself before standing up from the end of the bed. She examined herself from several angles before deciding to simply turn her back to the mirror and drape her arm over the top of her head, making the flannel rise and expose the curve of her ass; she smirked over her shoulder into the mirror. She hit send and was not surprised when she got another immediate response.

Chris: bunny, i’m wearing sweats Chris: this is cruel

Y/N didn’t respond to those, opting instead to saunter into the living room of her condo while she buttoned 2-3 of the buttons on the shirt and then poured herself a glass of wine. Once she was tucked under a blanket on the sofa, she flipped her phone back open and went to one of her albums of photos she and Chris had taken together or sent to each other in the six months together.

They weren’t all scandalous, but plenty of them were. She scrolled quickly through several of him shirtless in low-slung sweats or his boxer briefs; she didn’t need any help riling herself up right now. Y/N slowed down when she got to the last time she’d visited him in LA two months ago. The LA trip was four months into their relationship but was the first chance for her to see the Hollywood side of Chris.

LA: 4 months together

Chris stretched luxuriously in his California king, the sunlight glowing behind the drawn curtains. He blinked open slowly, reaching towards the other side of the bed to pull Y/N’s warm body closer to his. When his hands came up empty and he found her space cold and empty, he fluttered his eyes all the way open and forced himself to sit up.

It was barely 7a, but he knew his little east coast girl had probably been awake for hours. She’d been at his LA home for three days and couldn’t seem to get acclimated to the time difference. Chris started to push himself out of bed when he heard the creak of the floorboards and looked up to see Y/N tiptoeing back into the room with two mugs in hand. He watched her use her elbows to try to push the bedroom door closed again and couldn’t help but laugh at her face when she used too much force and the door closed with a loud thud.

“Sorry, babe, did I wake you?”

“I was just coming to find you,” he took the cup of coffee from her and turned to put it on the nightstand, “how long have you been up?”

Y/N crawled back into bed and Chris took note of the way his ratty old Adidas t-shirt she was in made her look so effortlessly sexy. “About two hours,” she said sheepishly as she accepted his open arms and snuggled into him.

“Not bad this time! By the time you leave, you’ll be sleeping until 9,” he grinned and kissed the top of her head. She’d tucked herself into his side and hitched her leg up over his hip. He held his arm around her shoulder while she played with the hair on his chest and his other hand came to rest on her knee. A silence fell over them while they both took at the moment. Being next to each other, being able to touch each other and hear the other's breathing was a rare commodity and this moment was precious. In their four months together, they’d managed to visit each other several times and spoke on FaceTime most days– sometimes just for a quick five-minute call and sometimes for hours.

“What time do the festivities start today?”

Chris sighed and shifted in bed enough to reach his coffee and take a long sip, “you mean the chaos?”

“Aren’t you excited?”

He snorted, setting his coffee back down and readjusting her so she was as tightly wrapped around him as possible; he couldn’t get enough of her weight pressed against him and her heartbeat tapping against his skin. “This is the part of my job I really loathe.”

Y/N was silent, letting him gather his thoughts, and eventually, he continued, “I love acting, I love bringing a character to life and making people happy. I love telling these stories. But I hate the cameras flashing and the microphones in my face and the same question from ten different people and making sure I don’t fuck up in an interview.”

“That does seem stressful,” her fingers were now tracing his tattoos, “and there is no way to avoid any of that?”

He shrugged, jostling her body slightly, “it comes with the territory. I just wish you could be there.”

She lifted her head and looked at him carefully, “Why? I thought your team said it was a bad idea.”

“I shouldn’t have told you that,” he sighed heavily, “it’s not a bad idea. It’s just a risk because of the attention that’ll fall on you if you walk the red carpet with me or you’re seen holding my hand at the after-party. And believe me, I wouldn’t let you out of my arms if you were with me.” He ran his fingers up her spine, lifting the shirt she was wearing and exposing her backside. “But I want you there. You’re just… you make me…” he let the words hang heavily in the air between them while he stared at her. Then he finished, “I’m calmer when I’m with you.”

Chris’s hand ran back down her back and settled on her ass, squeezing it gently before offering a playful slap. It made Y/N yelp and pull away, “Christopher!” She moved to sit up but he was faster– he rolled himself on top of her, the sheet that had been covering his naked body slid away and he settled himself in between her legs. He trailed kisses across her neck while his hands pushed the shirt up her body to expose her breasts and kneed one in his hands. He moved his face towards her lips to kiss her but instead of moaning as she often did when his hands were on her, she made a noise of disgust. “Evans, I love you, but your morning breath is on another level, go take care of that, and then we can pick this up.” She laughed, pushing at his chest but he was frozen above her, his eyes wide.

“What?”

Y/N made a face, “no one has told you your breath smells? C’mon, Hollywood, even you’re not immune.”

“No, you said…” He was gaping at her, still holding a breast in one hand and anchoring his weight with the other. He was breathing his morning breath directly on her face, making her squirm, but he didn’t care. He needed to be sure he’d heard her right. He needed to be sure this was happening.

“What did I–OH!” Her brain caught up to her mouth and she realized what had come tumbling out. She felt heat creep up her neck and cheeks and her hands flew up from where they’d been on his chest to cover her face.

Gently, he rearranged his body to cradle her head in one hand and use the other to pry her hands away from her face. Begrudgingly she let him. “I’m going to kiss you now, bad breath or not.”

“You are?” Her voice was small and she held her bottom lip between her teeth. “Are you sure?”

“I love you too, Y/N,” Chris grinned at her before slotting his lips across hers and kissing her, pushing his tongue into her mouth– but that was where she drew the line.

“Okay seriously, toothbrush, we can make out after.” He chuckled as he rolled off of her and sauntered into the ensuite. Y/N watched his ass as he left and he knew it; he threw a wink over his shoulder and wiggled it at her before closing the door behind him. She pulled the covers up over her face and squealed.

Once he was back out of the bathroom, he crawled back across the bed and sprawled on his back, pulling Y/N on top of him to kiss her while she was pressed against him. He pulled her shirt over her head and moved her body up so she hovered over his face and he could slowly, painstakingly feast on her. Before she could hit her high, she pulled off of him, turned around, and slid down his body to take him in her own mouth. He kept working her over, adding his fingers inside of her or using his hands to pull her apart. She continuously had to stop her work to breathe heavily or let out a low moan before returning to him.

Y/N crashed over the edge first, again needing to pause to cry out and pant heavily before finishing him off and collapsing on top of him. She was well aware of her glistening sex directly in his face but she didn’t care. She was so content and relaxed feeling their bodies pliant and pressed together.

All too fast, Chris’s alarm went off to remind him that his team would be arriving soon to do all the prep for premier day. After a shower together, she sat beside him, watching him prep for questions, be primped and poked and prodded, and then he dragged out to the waiting town car- not before a searing kiss- and leaving her alone in his beautiful, huge home.

It made her sad. She knew it was to protect her and her privacy, but she didn’t want it anymore. They’d been photographed before and speculations had flown around before dying down. Chris was cavalier and handsy in public, always with a hand in her back pocket, on her waist, a kiss on her cheek or forehead or lips. It wasn’t a secret they were together- even if it hadn’t been officially confirmed by his team- and it made her sad to be left behind for such a big moment.

Chris text her from the car, then even from inside the theater- he missed her, needed her presence, and couldn’t wait to have her on the red carpet with him someday. Yet she still couldn’t shake her growing sadness and questioned if this would work. If his team would always get the final say. She’d commit to him for life tomorrow if he asked, but she couldn’t do it if it came with all these rules. It didn’t help that she’d taken Chris’s team up on a few drinks while he got ready- something he usually did- and once he left, she opened a bottle of wine.

She allowed herself to wallow and her anxiety to spike while she snuggled into the couch and drank more. She turned her phone off and left it on the kitchen counter, opting to give herself a full drunken pity party and watch old episodes of Gilmore Girls.

The front door slammed and startled Y/N; she sat up quickly and pulled the blanket over her head- as if that would stop an intruder.

“Y/N!” Chris’s voice barked from the front door. She could hear his footsteps in his dress shoes but opted not to take the blanket off of her or respond to him. She just slithered back down. She heard him come to a stop and would’ve bet money his hands were on his slim hips. He repeated his name softer- he was standing over the sofa.

“What.”

“Your last text said ‘maybe I should go home’ and then you didn’t respond again. For 45 minutes. I was worried you actually left, so I came home.”

The blanket was still over her but she shrugged and then hiccuped.

“Are you alright?” She could hear his voice dripping with barely hidden anxiety.

“No.”

“What’s going on baby?” The couch cushions shifted when his weight sat next to her. His hand was heavy on her hip as he pulled the blanket away from her face. He stifled a laugh when he saw her hiccuping and clearly drunk; she was adorable. “Babe?” He prompted again.

“I’m hungry.”

He was grinning. She didn’t need to look at him to know that, “is that the problem? You’re hungry? I can feed you.”

“You don’t have what I want,” she stuck out her bottom lip and whined.

“I’ll go to the store and get you whatever you want.”

“Why would you do that? You’re a movie star who’s too important for me and I’m not good enough to be with. Why would you bother going to the store for me? Aren’t you supposed to be at some fancy Hollywood party?”

He sighed, “is that what this is about honey?”

She was crying. She wasn’t even aware of it through her hiccups and snot, but she nodded weakly. Chris pulled her gently by the shoulders and dragged her up and into his lap.

“Baby, I fucked this up. I should’ve pushed for you to come. Tonight should’ve been with you by my side. I’m proud of you and I love you and I shouldn’t have let it pan out this way. Hey,” he jostled her, using his forefinger and thumb to tilt up her chin. “You are the most important person in my life. It’s been four months but I know I’m going to marry you. You’re it. You should’ve been there tonight. I’m so sorry it made you feel like you aren’t good enough for me. You’re so far out of my league, baby,” he kissed her nose and her cheeks, and her forehead. Using his thumbs, he tenderly wiped tears away and kissed her lips gently. “Talk to me, Y/N.”

She was quiet while she tried to calm down her blubbering.

“Y/N, sweetheart, you’re killing me. Please talk to me.”

She tucked her face into his chest and mumbled against his Dolce suit. If she’d been sober, she would’ve spent far more time admiring him in his dapper outfit for the evening. His hair was growing back and his Cap muscles were still intact and required his suit to be perfectly tailored to his sinewy body. But alas, she was far from sober and burrowed deeper into his chest. He pulled her away and asked her to repeat herself and she said, “I really want a Cinnamon bun.”

Chris's guffaw echoed across the room and reverberated through both of them. He patted her hips, kissed the top of her head, and moved her off of him, “I’ll get you a cinnamon bun.” He started to stand up, “do you want to come to the store with me Bun?”

“Bun?” Y/N looked up at him as she climbed off the sofa and followed him to the bedroom where he changed out of his handsome shout and into sweats. Her eyes tracked his quick movements and before she knew it, he was pulling her by the hand back out of the bedroom and to the garage.

“My drunk little Cinnamon bun. My sweet bunny,” he laughed again as he held the car door open while she climbed in, “I think it’s a good nickname for you. I poured my heart out and you asked me for pastries. I don’t want to forget this moment, so you’ll forever be my cinnamon bunny.”

In the morning, the tabloids and online outlets all had various headlines and photos from their late-night grocery run: Chris Evans Bails on Marvel Premiere to Grocery Stop with Girlfriend. Needless to say, his team was furious with both of them, Y/N was very hungover, but when Chris answered each phone call in the aftermath, he started the same way: “Confirm it. She’s not going anywhere.” She continued to scroll through those visit photos and then entered more photos that had been sent during their time apart, more shirtless, more from bed, more that made her heart race, and then got to the pictures from her second Prague visit, just about three months into their relationship. They’d gone sightseeing, they’d been to dinner together, and they’d been able to be a normal couple in the early stages of a relationship while they could remain inconspicuous tourists to most people.

Chris had taken several days off of shooting to take her to museums and on dates, to spend one whole rainy day together in his hotel room, and to introduce him to some of the people he was working with. By that point, they’d hit a rhythm and had gotten to know each other much better. They were calling most days and spending hours on the phone. No matter how tired they were, they always made the time to call– it was new and exciting– and Y/N had never known that phone sex could truly be so good… especially when a delivery had arrived at her front door containing something that he could manipulate from an app in Prague.

Between Y/N’s two trips to Prague was Chris's trip back to the states for a two-week break from filming. He’d spent the first week at home in Boston visiting with his parents, his sisters, and his brother for a while…

DC: 2 months together

Chris finished loading the last of the dishes in his mother’s dishwasher before he grabbed another beer and headed back to join his family at the table. They were in the middle of a conversation about town gossip, as they always tend to fall into when the siblings are all back together when he sat down between his mom and brother.

The lull in conversation allowed Scott to start a new topic with a smirk on his face, “So Chris,” he leaned back in his chair, partially in a show of casual confidence and partially to get further away from Chris’s swatting distance, “any special lady in your life?”

Chris couldn’t stop the blush that covered his face; Scott knew damn well what he was doing. He was Chris’s confidant and knew all about Y/N. Hell, he’d been on the phone when they’d finally connected and then called incessantly the day after to find out all the details. He’d given them easily while Y/N showered and hung up quickly for fear of her catching him gushing just hours into their relationship.

He clenched his teeth and glared at his brother over his shoulder but the damage was done: his mom and sisters were at full attention now. “Chris?”

“I just– she is– we’ve been–” Chris stuttered several different responses and dropped his head, rubbing his still closely shorn hair. He took a swig of beer and then sat back in the chair, taking the opportunity to smack Scott across the chest before looking at the women around the table. “Yes.”

With practiced composure, all three of them nodded but were clearly bursting with questions. Lisa spoke first, “what’s her name?”

“Y/N.”

“Where did you meet her?”

“Prague.”

“No you didn’t,” Scott piped up, clearly loving this moment.

“Shut up,” he grunted. “We reconnected in Prague. I met her in…” he hesitated; where should he even start this story? How much energy did he have to expend on this right this second? Assuming they stayed together– and he hoped like hell they did– it would all come out, but did they have to know all the pieces right now? “I’ve known her for a while.”

“Is it someone we know?”

“Yes!” Scott piped up. “I mean you know of her.”

“So no one we’ve met before,” Lisa prodded, “how long have you been seeing her?”

“Two months, but it’s been mostly long distance. We’re still figuring things out.”

“Does she live in Prague?”

Chris shook his head, “no, she lives in DC.” Shit. He’d said too much.

Carly’s eyes widened as she processed, “you don’t have to work next week, do you?”

“No,” he said quietly, avoiding his mother’s eye contact; he’d told his family that even though he had two weeks off, he had to spend the second one in DC to work on some promotions for the latest Captain America… which wasn’t entirely untrue. He did have one meet and greet while he was there. But he’d scheduled that after he knew he was going to visit Y/N. “I’m spending the week at Y/N’s before I head back.”

“Is it serious?” Lisa asked quietly. She watched her oldest son’s face; everything about him was different. He was lighter– he had been from the moment he’d walked in the house today and every phone call she’d had with him in months. He was more clear-headed, he was calmer, he was happier. Lisa knew, even if Chris didn’t, that this woman would be different for him.

He nodded, “I think this is it,” he voiced to the quiet table. It was the first time he’d said it out loud but he’d been thinking about it since he woke up with her the very first morning. The way his heart swelled being near her and his chest ached with the need to talk to her every day, to know what she was thinking and wearing and had eaten for breakfast. He could hardly sleep if he hadn’t talked to her and even then he slept better when she was with him– he’d never had that before. He, quite frankly, didn’t always like to share a bed with someone for more than a night or two, but he craved her touch and her laugh, and hearing her voice soothe the voices in his head.

The moment was broken when Chris’s phone started to vibrate on the table and Scott snatched it before Chris could. “Look who it is!”

“Scott, c’mon, man,” Chris held out his hand to his brother who had jumped up from the table and was wiggling the phone at Chris where Y/N’s ID picture– the two of them in his trailer in Prague taken by one of his co-stars– was on the screen trying to FaceTime.

Scott stuck his tongue out at his brother. Then he turned the phone to face him, swiped across the screen, and grinned at Y/N, “hey sweetheart!”

Chris heard Y/N’s laugh, “Hi Boo, are you tormenting my boy?” Just the sound of her voice made Chris’s knees weak and he knew he was grinning. It didn’t matter how angry he was with his stupid brother, just knowing she was right there made him melt.

“He makes it too easy!”

“Be nice to him, I like him, and I owe you a broken ankle.” Chris barked a loud laugh and Scott shrugged with another smirk. The sisters and their mother exchanged confused looks.

“I’ll try,” Scott moved further away from Chris who was stalking toward him. “Do you want to talk to him?”

“Yes, please.” Y/N’s sweet voice was killing Chris; he needed to see her face too.

“Scott, give him the phone,” Lisa finally chimed in when she took in Chris’s mixture of smitten, love-dumb puppy and enraged brother.

“Fine,” he sighed and stopped moving, allowing Chris to stride across the room and snatch the phone away while Scott yelled, “but I think he should introduce you to everyone since we’re all here!”

“There’s my girl,” Chris practically cooed when he got the phone in his hands and started to head toward the back porch. “I miss you, baby.”

“You’re with your whole family? I can call you back. I just missed you too. I hadn’t talked to you since you landed yesterday and I needed to see your face,” she was in her living room– still the same one he’d stormed out of three years ago– and was sitting by the windows. He could see a glass of wine on the window sill behind her; her hair was piled on top of her head and she was in a sweatshirt and her glasses. “Now that I’ve seen you, that'll give me enough to tide me over. Go hang with your family.”

Chris still hadn’t made it across the house and to the back door, so everyone was, of course, listening. Lisa grinned at Scott and whispered, “do we like her? I think we like her right?”

Scott nodded vigorously, “we love her. She’s good for him.” Then to his brother, he yelled, “Mom wants to meet her!”

“Scott!” Lisa looked scandalized and turned to Chris, “do not make that girl talk to me, that is not fair to put her on the spot like that.”

“I’m fine!” Y/N yelled back through the phone and then to Chris, “if you’re okay with it, I’d love to talk to your mom.”

Chris glanced from her to his mom, sisters, and brother, waiting anxiously at the table, and then back to Y/N. He turned his back on his family and whispered to the beautiful woman on the phone, “are you sure?”

“Only if you’re okay with it.”

The smile that spread across Chris’s face was so huge that it actually hurt. He nodded as he walked back to the table and Y/N heard the scrape of a chair while Chris shuffled. He propped his phone up on an empty bottle of wine on the table and Lisa came into the frame, taking in Y/N for the first time; Y/N waved happily and greeted her before Chris was even settled next to Lisa in the frame.

45 minutes later, Chris wasn’t sure why he’d even hesitated. Y/N had chatted easily with Lisa, asking questions and easily laughing with her; his sisters waited a whole 10 minutes before they were clambering around the phone, shoving like classic siblings to try to get closer to the phone. Eventually, they moved to the living room and took to just passing Y/N around the room to talk to people with Chris trailing her and plopping down beside whoever was speaking.

Finally, after Carly and her family had left and they’d all talked enough, he yanked the phone away from Shanna and made it out to the back patio where he walked far enough into the yard to be sure he wouldn’t be overheard. “Hey baby,” he intoned, enjoying the moment for just them. “Thanks for that.”

“They’re delightful,” she offered genuinely, taking a sip of wine and then trying to stifle a yawn, “I’m glad I can put faces to names.”

“They adore you already,” he clicked over to the texts that were coming in on the family chat– the approval messages were flying in quickly with how adorable she was, how genuine she seemed, how much they hoped she could meet her, Lisa even suggesting Thanksgiving or Christmas. He smiled at the messages and then went back to Y/N, “Mom wants to see you for the holidays. Fuck, I can’t wait to wake up on Christmas morning with you. We can be here, we can be in DC, we can be in Puerto Rico, I don’t care. I just can’t wait to be with you more, baby.”

“I can’t either,” she mused quietly, her heart swelling as she listened to him talk about the future. The holidays were months away and he wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him. They talked about the future in passing but this moment– after meeting his family– felt more concrete. This was it. He was it. He was the one. She listened to Chris continue to talk about potential holiday plans and smiled at him, offering encouragement and trying not to be too distracted in her daydreams of their future.

“You’re tired,” he said eventually when he saw her rub her eyes and watched her eyelids droop, “you should get some sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”

“You’ll have my undivided attention, I promise,” she blew him a kiss, “but you’re right, I need some sleep. Today was long.”

“I can’t wait to kiss you,” Chris didn’t attempt to hide the longing in his voice as he continued, “I just want to kiss you every day for forever, baby. Goodnight.”

They hung up and continued to check in via phone the rest of the week– albeit less frequently than usual so that Chris could spend some real quality time with his family. By the time Tuesday rolled around, Y/N was buzzing with excitement. Chris would be here by dinner time.

He’d insisted that she not pick him up from the airport– that he could easily take a cab– but she refused, even parking and walking in to wait at baggage claim. She bounced on her feet and played with her scarf while she paced and waited.

Eventually, the carousel started to flash the flight number and passengers gathered. She strained her neck and waited for his familiar public personal- hat, shoulders hunched, moving quickly- and spotted it quickly. He was behind a couple who was ambling, arm in arm, and she could tell he was debating between steamrolling by them and letting them be.

He was too far to yell, so she pulled out her phone- seeing that his was in his hands- and sent a simple im in a red scarf by the benches text. She watched him check it when it buzzed in his hand and then look up from under the brim of his hat to scan the room.

When they finally made eye contact, she felt like a racehorse waiting to be released. She knew he wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself but Y/N was coursing with adrenaline and need. She was trembling with excitement and so relieved when he broke into a grin and jogged around the couple to get to her.

To her absolute shock, he dropped his backpack, leaned forward, and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. Chris planted a very public, very emotion-filled kiss on her lips right there in the middle of Dulles baggage claim. She tucked her legs up behind her when he lifted her off the ground. He finally set her down and slid his hands into the back pocket of her jeans, giving her a quick squeeze before moving his hands to her hips and kissing her once more.

Chris knew his team would get wind of it- someone would snap a photo- and they’d be posted online and everyone would be pissed that they had to scramble.

He didn’t give a shit. She was his and she was back in his arms and he didn’t care who knew.

During his DC visit, he’d stayed mostly tucked away in her apartment, leaving to go to the gym or grab groceries, but enjoying the time relaxing at Y/N’s. She’d taken a couple of days off of work but not the whole week, so they spent a week of domestic bliss in the honeymoon phase. They’d wake up together, eat breakfast in bed, and shower together before she’d head off to work. When she got home, he’d have a simple dinner ready for her and listen to her day; he’d talk about his script and they’d run lines together. They’d finish the evening wrapped up together before falling asleep skin to skin.

And finally, she scrolled back enough in her photos to get to that first week. That first week of sex and room service. They had very few pictures from those early days– Chris had a few on his phone that no one but him could ever see– as they’d spent every minute that he wasn’t at work in his room. She’d kept her room for an additional two nights before Chris told her to cancel it and stay in his suite, to save the money and the time pretending that she’d ever sleep there again. Chris went to work, twice taking her on set to watch, and she wandered the city during the day. She’d head back to the hotel in the afternoons, usually arriving just in time for Chris to burst in the door and pounce on her. It didn’t seem to matter how exhausted he was from a day of arduous, physical scenes, he was always always ready for her. He’d taken her apart in every way possible in that short week together; she was glad they didn’t have all day together or there was no way she’d have been walking by her flight home the next Friday.

The slow scroll through their memories had taken her almost twenty minutes and she was startled when her phone buzzed in her hand.

Chris: 10 minutes

Y/N sent a quick reply and then a deep breath. Her nerves always spiked right before she saw him. The butterflies in her stomach and anticipation rising made her have to work to calm down. She took another sip of wine and went to the fridge to check if the beer she’d bought was cold enough. She then padded back to her en-suite to brush her teeth and check her makeup once more.

By the time the downstairs buzzer went off, she was pulsing with excitement and practically sprinted across the apartment to let him in. The last three minutes were the longest while she waited for him to climb the stairs and get to her. She was afraid to open the door in just the flannel- she didn’t need her neighbors catching a glimpse of too much- but she couldn’t decide where to be when he arrived. She was headed back towards the sofa when the knob turned and Chris called, “honey, I’m home,” and she couldn’t stop herself from running back across the room and into his arms. He kicked the door shut while she covered his face in kisses and he dropped his luggage to pull her against him.

“Hi, baby,” she cooed when she finally stopped kissing him long enough to look at his handsome face. “I missed you.”

“I’m all yours for 48 whole hours,” he grinned. His hands were already unbuttoning the handful of buttons she’d fastened; hers were already at his waist, yanking at the sweats he’d flown in.

“Get them off,” Y/N gasped between open mouth kisses he trailed across every bit of skin within reach. “Stop distracting me,” she whined, pulling back far enough to firmly grasp the waistband of his pants and shove them down. He kicked off his pants and shoes in one movement, only stumbling slightly but recovering to manhandle Y/N by the hips to press her chest against the back of the door.

Chris’s hands seemed to be everywhere at the same time while his lips trailed over her neck and shoulders, sucking licking, and kissing. His hands grasped handfuls of her ass, massaging and squeezing it more aggressively than he intended and unintentionally pushing her against the door; when her breath caught and he caught her eye over her shoulder, he squeezed roughly again and leaned in to murmur in her ear.

“Want a little roughhousing, bunny?”

Y/N mewed and pushed her ass back into his hands.

“Oh really,” his chuckle was dark and he slowed his movements, easing the pressure of his hands and trailing them up under the flannel and eventually pulling it off her shoulders. It drifted to the floor beside them next to his sweatpants, shoes, and luggage.

It wasn’t lost on Y/N that anyone walking down the hallway of her building could hear them pressed up against it, rattling the hinges, but she couldn’t get enough of his touch. His hands were soft and light trailing back down her shoulders, over the back of her ribs, to her hips, and finally landing with a rough smack on her ass before smoothing it over. She gasped and felt herself push into his hands again; his other hand raised off her other cheek and he landed another spank and another soothing rub, this time including a kiss as he knelt behind her.

Chris tilted her hips up and out, exposing her to him. She glistened in front of him and he used his hands to slowly pull her apart, his fingers sliding carefully through the slick. From this angle, he could see her clench and unclench around nothing. He was rock hard and his mouth watered when he took a hot lick up the center, continuing to trail up her lower back and spine to her neck, his tongue trailing across her skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. When he was standing again, his full weight leaning against the door frame and Y/N’s body, his tongue ending its travel at her earlobe and changing over to nibbling on her soft skin.

Without a word, just the sound of both of their heavy breathing, he rutted against her, his boxer briefs still a barrier between them but his bulk rubbing deliciously against her, the cotton dampening with each thrust. “I want to taste you, babe, but I need you so badly.”

“Please fuck me, Chris, please,” she was whimpering, frantically rocking her hips back into him. Y/N kept one hand on the door, bracing her weight and the other reached back to blindly grasp for the band of his briefs. She turned over her shoulder to look at him, “please, now, Chris.” She was still trying to get his shorts off and he finally stepped away from her and dropped them quickly. She turned in the process and stepped forward and taking his length in her hands before he was entirely undressed. She pumped him slowly, the way she’d come to know he liked it, squeezing and twisting her wrist occasionally as she did.

“Fuck,” he groaned, grasping the back of her head and pulling her towards him for a dirty kiss.

“Please,” was her only response, pumping faster and starting to drop to her knees. Chris stopped her and pulled her off of him, using both hands to turn her by the hips to face the kitchen island. Their hands now interlaced, he leaned forward, his chest pressed to her back, and held her hands to the marble. The tip of his nose rubbed the back of her neck, and she sighed, “don’t be gentle, Chris.”

He hummed in response, making sure her hands were planted against the counter before again dropping to his knees behind her and again pulling her open, tasting her briefly, getting her bucking against his face before he stood up and plunged into her without preface. He paused at her gasp, allowing her a moment to adjust; with his chest pressed to her back, his fingers laced with hers, her head was able to fall back against his shoulder. When she murmured, “move, baby,” he did as she asked, setting a punishing pace and force. Although it was better than pressed against the door leading to the hallway, her kitchen was still quite close to the hallway; anyone walking could hear their dirty, lewd moans and the sounds of skin slapping.

Chris didn’t have to reach around to play with her clit; she came fast and hard without it, surprising both of them– and he pushed her towards another. He clenched his teeth and moved his hands away from hers to hold her hips steady. Y/N braced her whole body against the counter and met him thrust for thrust, fucking herself back on him. The second time she came, she’d used her own hands on herself while his fingers squeezed bruises on her hips. After her second climax, he came with– quite literally– a roar and pumped his seed into her.

His body weight slumped against hers on the counter and she turned over her shoulder to lazily kiss his cheek and stroke his neck. “I love you and I miss you,” she told him quietly, enjoying the moment of their bodies still connected and their breathing in sync as they came down.

“I love you,” he kissed her shoulder, “and I miss you,” he kissed her neck, “and I think we should talk about that while I’m here,” he kissed her lips.

Y/N pulled away, “about what?”

“About how much I love you and don’t like being away from you.”

“Chris…” her voice was laced with a warning tone, “what are you thinking.”

“Right now I’m thinking that I want to pull out and go snuggle in your bed instead of the kitchen island.”

Y/N agreed, and winced when he pulled out; she’d be deliciously sore tomorrow from the places he’d just hit. She led him into the bedroom and then the ensuite, pulling him into a quick shower with just a makeout session (okay, and some heavy petting) before he went back out to the foyer to turn out the lights, lock the door, and bring his suitcase in. She was in a simple pajama set and was crawling into bed when he came back, still wrapped in a towel, and bent over to dig through his suitcase for clean underwear.

When Chris finally joined her in bed, Y/N was sitting upright and staring at him, “okay, talk please.”

“Bun, I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he claimed his side of the bed and sat against the headboard. “I’ve just been thinking about us a lot.”

“Okay…” Y/N loved him, heart and soul. She loved everything about him, even the things she’d come to find annoying. She loved him, even when she didn’t always like him. But if he was about to propose, she’d say no. It wasn’t time for that yet, but his quiet demeanor was making her heart race. He held his hand out to grab hers and she let him. He interlaced their fingers and she felt the cool press of metal into her palm. Her eyes widened, and her heart race increased.

He was smirking his beautiful, perfect, stupid smirk at her and she was ready to cry. He was doing this right now? Panic coursed through Y/N.

Chris squeezed his hand in hers and then let go, slowly pulling his hand back to his lap.

It was a key.

She released a shaky sigh and picked it up, turning it through her fingers. If Chris wasn’t so nervous, he’d laugh at her. She looked like she’d never seen a key before the way she was staring and turning it over.

“What is this Chris?”

“It’s the key to my Boston house. I also have one made for you for the LA house too, but this one,” he pointed to the key in her hand and scooted closer to her, putting his hands on her knees, “this one is home. I’m hoping it can be our home.”

“What are you saying?”

“Move to Boston. Live with me.”

“In Boston?” Y/N’s eyes snapped up quickly from the key in her hand to Chris.

He nodded tentatively, “if you don’t want it to be my house now, we can go house hunting and get something that is just ours. I don’t care, I just want us to have a home together.”

“My life is here, Chris,” she said quietly. “I can’t move to Boston. My family, my friends, my job… they’re all here. For my whole life, I’ve been here.”

“I’ll fly you home whenever you want to see them. Or them to you. You don’t have to work right away when you move up, you can take your time and get used to the area and decide where you might want to work. I’ve thought about it a lot too and I know my mom would get you a job at the theater if you wanted to do something different. We’ll figure it out.”

“Have you really thought about this at all? We’ll figure it out doesn’t feel like a well-thought-out plan.”

“Of course I have! I’ve been thinking about asking you to move in with me for months.”

Y/N bit her lip and looked back down at the key that she was continuing to fidget with, “what if you move here?”

He hesitated, then shrugged, “I can’t really work from here.”

“You don’t work from Boston. You live there when you’re not in LA. I don’t want to uproot my life to move to Boston and have you in LA for half the year.”

“I won’t be in LA! Boston is my home. I’m only in LA when I have to be in the studios there. Most of the time if I’m not home, I’m on location.”

Y/N huffed, “that’s not a selling point, babe.”

“So,” he asked quietly, “you don’t want to move in with me?”

She knew she had to choose her words very carefully. She wanted to live with him and built a future with him; she wanted to marry him and have kids with him, but she didn’t want that with his lifestyle now. Y/N had thought about it so often– they’d never been more than two weeks in the same place. What if they spent longer together and it didn’t work? What if they hated the way each other chewed pretzels or left the door open to pee? What if he was away so much she got lonely? What if loving each other wasn’t enough?

“I want to move in with you,” she said calmly and clearly, “I’m just afraid we’re rushing it. And I’m afraid to move my whole life out of state when you’re not even there all the time.”

“After I finish directing, I’ve already cleared my schedule for the next seven months. I have eight more weeks on this project, not including two weeks of press and premieres when it comes out, and then I’m free for seven months.”

“Seven months?” She asked incredulously, “is that enough?”

“It’s enough for me.” The earnest look on Chris’s face was killing her. She knew this wasn’t the answer he was hoping for; she knew he’d been nervous to talk to her about this. She also knew that she needed to have her own life and not succumb to just being ‘Chris Evans’s girlfriend’. She had an identity and a career and friends and didn’t want to lose all of that.

“You’re enough for me,” she emphasized, “This scares me.”

“Keep your apartment here,” he said quickly, rushing to get out his thoughts, “Keep it until your lease is up, or extend it for another year. Keep it exactly as is, you can come back whenever you want and stay here and you’ll know you have a safety net to come back to if we– if it– in case you need it.”

She shook her head, “I can't afford that–” she saw the look on his face and cut him off, “--and before you offer, that’s too much to let you pay for it.”

“But that’s the solution. You can keep a piece of you as long as you want it. And if you aren’t happy with me or you aren’t happy in Boston, you won’t have to start again.”

“I don’t know, Chris, that seems like so much. Isn’t it too fast for this?”

“Think about it,” he sighed, leaning across to kiss her and take the key from her hand. He reached around her to toss it on her bedside table and then pulled her down to snuggle into his chest. “We have all weekend to talk about it.”

Y/N looked up at him and studied his pretty blue eyes, the scruff of his beard, and his whole handsome face. She sighed and pressed her lips into the soft juncture of his neck and jaw. “I’ll think about it.”

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