#god I just butchered his accent

[frogchiro]

okay wait why am i now just hearing about butcher/slasher ghost, and why am i foaming at the mouth!!!???! like ripping apart pillows, tearing down walls, doing flips—RAHHH i am officially OBSESSED!!

i read it and thought of texas chainsaw massacre, but it’s the 2006 one so like simon is an absolute menace but he sees a pretty lady who’s new to town and his cold killer heart just can’t help but swoon :((( and she’s so polite, nervous, and timid because it’s so different in this town and simon with his cursed blessed keen sense of smell

OH MY GOD BUT SLASHER GRAVES IN A SMALL TOWN DOWN IN TEXAS!!!?

so sorry if this is a lot!! 😣 i’m just a little obsessed 🤭🤭 either way, have an amazing day!! stay hydrated and make sure to eat 🩷🩷

HOW THE FUCK DID I NEVER THINK OF SLASHER GRAVES

My dear, I know that you probably expected Butcher!Ghost but I'm highjacking this ask now and writing slasher Graves because oh my god-

The setting I imagine to be in a small southern town in Texas, and I imagine it to be like one of those creepy, small southern gothic towns with the old abandoned churches, houses and old beaten up signs that say "His return is near" or "God is watching you", you get the idea.

And there we have Philip Graves who owns a big ranch passed down for generations in his family, and by big I mean HUGE. Enormous pastures, corn fields, cows, horses, pigs and all that which means he and his name is quite well know in the area which admittedly makes his...hobby a lot easier than you'd think. Graves has friends in high places and he's buddy buddy with the town's sheriff, basically the golden child of the town which means that both the police and the sheriff will turn a blind eye to the "sudden disappearances" of people, be it locals or newcomers to town.

But the thing is that Philip Graves is bored. Bored out of his mind and nothing seems to excite him anymore, not even the desperate hysterical screams of his victims do the thing anymore. Sure he definitely has the money, the looks that refined well with age, he's respected and liked in the community but the truth is-he doesn't give a shit about it.

I imagine that Slasher!Graves is an incredibly arrogant man, and while he may put on a pleasant facade, his accent a thick and purring drawl and his southern charm do the trick he's a whimsical and capricious prick who gets easily bored and when he does...Well let's just say that it doesn't end pretty.

So imagine how surprised he was when he was in town once in his pickup truck, cowboy hat low on his brow as he watched the cars go by when suddenly his eyes were caught by a bus, one of those that travel for very long distances and the only person who got out was you. To say that Philip's interest was piqued would be an understatement; what's a pretty soft little thing like you doing in this bumfuck nowhere in Texas?

A pretty young lady, seemingly around 20, who looked like a lost little lamb, but just what were you doing here? Everything about you screamed that you're obviously not from here and while he could see even from a distance that you tried to act confident, his sharp blue eyes saw right through that act-you were scared shitless and more than lost. Were you here to visit someone? Or maybe...you are running from something? Whatever the case was, you definitely caught his attention in more than one way.

You just looked...so soft, so pretty, lovely he'd even say and I'm sorry but this Graves that we're talking about would definitely be a little misogynistic :(( He's old fashioned, maybe it comes with his age or maybe due to how his pa raised him but the further he observed you the more he he couldn't help but think about how such a pretty young lady like yourself should be married off already to a nice gentleman, getting provided for like you deserve and in return takin' care of your husband too; bringing him beer, cookin' and popping out a kid or two :((

His train of thoughts got interrupted only by a loud booming voice calling out his name cheerfully and when he turned around annoyed to see who was interrupting him, it turned out to be old Michael, an old friend of his pa. He greeted him politely but when he turned around to watch you a little more it turned out that you already wandered off, sneaky girl.

Philip cursed under his breath but on the other hand he decided to just ask the sheriff about you since he knows that the man has access to all the information about any newcomers to town. It looks like his bored streak came to an end <3

[axnrxn]

hi, may i request for reader who looks really innocent and gentle but loves to give dirty jokes? or maybe reader that likes saying something ordinary but always has sexual innuendos. and she pretends like she doesn’t understand why they are laughing/embarrassed/groaning from what she said? please and thank you. i hope this one gets picked, ill be waiting and hoping. thanks! 🥰

Innuendos | MW2 characters (König, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny ���Soap” MacTavish) x GN!reader

Warnings: Sexual innuendos, or my poor attempts at them. I made this fic GN now<3

König

You love to fluster this man endlessly, which isn't difficult to begin with. So instead of simply flustering him, you want to see how much you can fluster him.

During a mission, you turned to König and sighed dramatically.

“You'd better give me a pearl necklace when this is all over with, god knows I deserve one.”

“W-What?” König laughed nervously, attempting to cover up his embarrassment and dirty thoughts.

“You know, a pearl necklace? I could totally pull it off, I just know it,” you said casually, knowing exactly what your partner was thinking.

“Oh, uhm, like those fancy ones from the jewelry stores?” His Austrian accent thickened as he became more flustered.

König was silently thanking himself for keeping his face hidden because it was incredibly pink all the way down his neck, he could feel the heat radiating from his intense blush.

“Of course, what else would I be talking about?” you replied innocently, knowing full well that's not what you meant.

You just loved to make your taller, imposing partner squirm in his uniform. You smirked to yourself, seeing the slight sliver of his face visible through his hood turn visibly pink.

“You alright up there, König?” You asked with a little laugh, unable to completely hide your teasing.

“Mmm, yes” König groaned before answering you.

You walked off toward the rest of the team, leaving him to stew in his dirty thoughts.

“Scheiß” he muttered, believing you were out of earshot.

You smiled, having gotten the reaction you were going for.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You looked across the table to your lieutenant. Ghost gestured for you to get up from dinner, making you groan.

"Come on, relax a bit with the rest of us, Ghost." You whined, already tired from your sniper training.

"No rest for the wicked, sergeant." He replied sharply.

"Well, you had me on my knees all day." You groaned, deep down hoping that he caught your "unintentional" innuendo.

"What now?" He asked, caught off guard.

"Yeah, you had me on my knees all day for you. My knees and back are killing me now." You laid it on thicker, emphasizing 'all day' as you spoke.

"Well princess, you've gotta get a move on so we're ready for our mission in the morning. Need you on your A-game." He huffed, trying to avoid your eyes.

"My knees are gonna be too bruised to be on my A-game tomorrow thanks to you, lieutenant." You went on, trying to fluster your superior.

He wasn't budging much, given the stoic man he is, but you could tell your words made him a bit hot under the collar. He shifted his shoulders under the weight of his vest, straightening his back a bit as if to reassert his authority.

"Come on sergeant, you and me. You will be responsible for watching Soap's six. Let's go." He said gruffly, not waiting for another coy response from you before turning on his heel and leaving the common area you were eating in.

You sighed and hastily followed Ghost back toward the training area. As you got closer, you quieted your footsteps and peered around the corner, just enough to catch Ghost adjusting his noticeably tighter pants. You smirked, confirming that your words had a greater effect than he had let on.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

"God, I love a good sausage breakfast in the morning" you yawned as you dug into your food. Johnny had managed to find a local butcher shop willing to sell at cheap wholesale prices for you and 141.

"What ya say there, private?" Johnny asked, cocking his eyebrow at you.

"Sausage. In the morning. I love it. Thank you, Johnny" you replied between bites.

He chuckled, lightly punching your arm.

"O' course, y'know I'll always give ya sausage in the mornin'." he winked, watching you scarf down your breakfast.

"Well I expect sausage from you every morning from now on, Johnny" You stated, unwilling to end your innuendos with Johnny playing along.

Gaz made a dramatic gagging sound. The rest of 141 had enough of your flirting for the morning.

"Oi, slow down. Just enjoy it today, yeah?" His cheeks got a bit pink following Gaz's interruption.

"Mmm, alright Johnny." You replied, smiling.

As you were about to leave the common area, Johnny stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

"If ya want some extra, you know where to find me, yeah?" He whispered in your ear. He smirked at you as he walked back to his quarters.

"Don't have to tell me twice," you mumbled to yourself, looking for the least suspicious way to follow Johnny without the rest of 141 noticing.

The inspiration audio

A/N: Sorry that this took so long! I wanted to make it unique for each character rather than recycling innuendos/scenarios! I only wrote for Konig, Ghost, and Soap because those are the characters whose speech I'm most familiar with. I want to write more for Alejandro, but I don't want to make him sound not like himself if that makes sense. Thank you anon for giving me my first request!

[imagine-shenanigans]

I've got severe brain worms from @391780 's fic Into Your Veins, and now I'm thinking of all the different scenarios where the 141 are also monsters in the apocalypse. like. obsessively. Also fat/chubby reader because mmmmmm yaes <3

Also this is basically just rambles and ranting over ideas for like, however long this got i didnt actually check teehee

We already have vampire simon so I won't touch on that because that is Specifically Their Brain Worms but I can't stop laughing every single time over the sunflower seeds incident (and every other similar one).

//

Soap as a werewolf is soooooo funny to me. Like he's constantly in this battle of "Don't swallow don't swallow don't swallow" whenever he rips a zombie in half with his teeth in wolf form and then confusion as to why people would think he's possibly infected. "Wdym I'm infected I'm just a little guy. I'm so cute. I wouldn't ever do anything. Smiles." He can't cover distance like Ghost or Gaz can, and sure he doesn't have the same authority that Price does, but he's a damn good soldier, and he's got some of the most sheer brute force on the team. So when Price tells him to start scouting in an area for survivors, he does! He's very thorough, combs over the area with a precision that would make most soldiers weep with jealousy.

He ends up scenting reader before he sees them, watches their little house from a distance. He's not patient like Simon, but he does watch reader for awhile, watches them surviving, all on their own in this little plot of land. Ends up watching your plush hips sway as you set out the laundry to dry. He's mesmerized, as he watches the sweat drip down your skin while you reinforce a few of your traps, go over the house with a fine toothed comb. You can't see him in the shadows, but by god is he seeing you. (And your ass - god he can't stop staring.)

He's not nearly patient enough to wait, so he waltzes right up, thinking his charming smile and accent is enough to win him some brownie points. He's halfway through a pickup line, maybe, when you level a shotgun at his face, completely unamused.

He's in love.

You refuse to go with him, but Price gave him orders and there's no WAY he's letting you go, not after he's seen your thighs and imagined himself using them as earmuffs. Not after he's thinking of a cute domestic life, providing for you like a good mate, and look at how precious you are, threatening him and -

and you shoot him.

Right in the chest, and thank god for the fact that it takes more than a few bullets to kill him because he's tearing through his skin in an instant, bones cracking and sinew melding as he quickly drops into his wolf form (which, jesus christ he's fucking HUGE) to help ease some of the pain and kickstart his healing process. He snarls right in your face and snaps your damn gun in half with his teeth before he tells you he'll be back in a week. (later, he feels bad, certainly, but only for frightening you)

You freak out, because JESUS CHRIST WEREWOLVES ARE REAL TOO????

Johnny's back in a week as promised, after spending a few days in bed and eating anything he could get his hands on all while gushing about the pretty little soft thing he's bringing back. He even goes out of his way to bring you a gift!!! He hunts down a deer on the way through the woods near your home, bringing dinner so he can butcher it and you can cook it because of course he's bringing you back for practical reasons but if he's going to court you no you don't need to know that.

You're gone when he comes to the home, every last item packed away and shoved into the back of the car he'd seen you drive. He's furious that his hard work will go to waste, so he helps himself to the rest of what you've got in the house and decides to store everything away for when he's on his way back to base. Fights his urge to track you down only for long enough to be practical, and then he's on the hunt.

It doesn't take him long to find you - he can run faster than your car can go cautiously while trying not to attract attention from a horde of zombies, and even though he's living he doesn't attract the same attention from the freaks that you do in a car with a gun. He tracks you down in no time flat, smiling as he taps on your window where you're parked inconspicuously to catch a few minutes of sleep.

When you scream, he laughs and waves, threatens with one clawed hand to slash the tires if you don't come out. Practicality wins in this case, and he has a long talk with you about coming back with him. He's sure he's just about convinced you when you slap him, throwing something at him that has him howling in white-hot pain. He can hear your apologies through sobs as you push him and he tangles with whatever you've thrown at him, trying to get it off in a blind panic, and you've driven off before he can stop you.

When he finally has a moment to breathe, the damn thing off of him, he realizes you'd tied together a small net of necklace chains - silver. necklace chains.

He's as angry as he as endeared, really. It's a game now, of fetch, of tag, he's not sure - he just ends up changing pace, gently herds you back in the direction of the base like a cattle dog. You're furious when he finally pops your tires when you're a good two days away from the base, just hefts you up on a shoulder and pats your ass while he walks with you. He's so smug about it too, and by all accounts, he's won your hand in marriage by finding you, whether or not you agree yet.

//

Now, I'm not as familiar with Gaz as I'd like to be (because I got introduced with Ghoap stuff for my entry into the fandom) so please pardon if my characterization is off but I do love him dearly and eat up all content I end up seeing of him.

I'm slightly biased with Gaz being a harpy because I just love the idea of him being a bird of prey like a peregrine falcon (and i think its bluegiragi who has the monster au of him as a harpy?) or a shifter of some sort like a panther or a cheetah (i'm biased towards cheetah actually, because I love the pictures/videos of cheetahs getting emotional support golden retrievers).

Since my idea for this isn't EITHER of those options, please consider reader putting spike traps on the roof for a bird Gaz like stores put up on their signs. He gets real angry about it for a couple days and then figures out exactly how/where to land so he can perch on your roof anyway, scaring the shit out of you when he's just sitting there, chin in his hands, with a shit eating grin when you go to make sure everything's alright on the roof.

Anyway, for this I'm actually thinking fae Gaz - he's been living amongst humans for as long as he can really remember. He's not a changeling, but his mum was fae and she loved his dad. He's visited the fae realm once or twice (and, as convincing as his mum is when he visits her, he nearly forgets about the time dissonance every single visit - none are as bad as the first time, when he had no clue about it, and ended up being gone for fifty years.)

He's sent to greet you when Ghost majestically fails, and Cap'n doesn't quite want to set Soap loose on the poor reader (yet). Ends up falling in love with how clever you are, soft hands slipping into gloves as you pile leaves over the thin nets over the punji pits and bear traps. He's military trained across multiple decades, he's seen all kinds of war (even though he's still relatively young in comparison - he stopped physically aging somewhere in his twenties, but he's barely been alive for like, fifty years) and he's seen all kinds of tricks.

He watches you pour over old books that you've either scavenged or already had, learning how to make simple, but effective traps. The older types of traps are such a clever idea when combined with new ones. The type doesn't matter much to zombies, but the combination of different types will keep humans (and others) on their guard.

He really really really intends to talk to you, instead of lingering in the shadows like a creep.

You end up seeing him, and through sheer luck (or wit, Gaz isn't honestly sure) when he asks that you give him your name, you say; "Give me your name first."

He's stuck at that one, because Gaz has spent years talking around subjects but this pretty little human just points a shotgun at him and demands his attention. He can't even think to talk around the reason he's there when he changes the subject awkwardly, and you insist on his name.

He can't give you his name, his power, not even his nickname, so it ends with him awkwardly leaving.

He's the absolute butt of the joke when he gets back to base after slipping into the trees (so embarrassed that he doesn't take the time to make sure you can't see him do it) and goes straight back to base utilizing a mushroom circle and the sheer willpower to not get distracted as he slips between realms. Makes a week long trek into an hour's worth of walking.

When he returns, he knocks politely, eyeing the newly replaced doorknob.

When he touches it, out of curiosity, he's gobsmacked to find out you've either found a new knob, or cast the old one in cold iron. He touches it three full times in complete disbelief, watches the skin on his hands grow irritated and blister.

You smirk when you open the door, make some shitty joke that he's pretty sure is a twilight reference that would make Ghost furious, and then you tell him you figured it out pretty quickly.

In comparison to Ghost and Soap, his romance is altogether extremely easy - he just keeps visiting every single day, calls you a nickname when you won't give him an actual answer.

He admires your caution, and falls just a little more in love when you call him something stupid like mushroom man.

In the end, what ends up convincing reader, I think, is that he fully gives them his name. It's akin to a proposal, and Gaz isn't quite sure how he feels when you don't realize it as you roll his name - Kyle Garrick on your tongue, testing it. You ask if you can keep calling him Mushie Man and some other stupid nickname and he laughs, presses a kiss to your temple for it. Says it's only fitting, and whispers your full name like a prayer.

He lets you stay in your home a little longer, as long as you need really, laces a misdirection hex into the branches that'll really only work on humans. He comes by every day, no matter what.

When you finally agree, he grabs your face and kisses you like you've given him the sun and stars and hung the moon just to illuminate his way.

//

For Price, I'm going to say dragon price because mmmm hot. Anyway I like to think it's a little bit of everything.

Ghost is the first - you find out really quickly that he fucking hates the counting trick you pull, so you're sure to carry a pocket full of something small just to piss him off if he gets too close. When you don't make eye contact (whether intentional or because you hate it) he's absolutely bewildered that this Soft Little Thing in the woods has so effectively blocked him from getting his job done initially that when he complains to Price, he puts his foot down. Says if Price thinks is so funny, he should send Johnny or Gaz out, see if they can do better.

And Price, sides hurting from laughing so much, agrees to make it Soap's problem next.

Soap returns, a net-like burn across his forearm from where you'd thrown tied together necklace chains at him. He's pissed, whines and moans for hours about how bad it hurts, and Price just snorts and tells him Shouldn't have tried to drag them out, then.

When intimidation and brute force don't work, Price lets Gaz have a go at it.

The man is practically radiating smugness as he goes to win, and Price is crying with laughter when Gaz comes back, his hands blistered and pride bruised. He clears his throat and says I think ah, I think they've just gone ahead and put every guard on the house they can think of. He does not tell anyone that the human ended up catching him in a net for half an hour afterwards, chiding him for the full thirty minutes about trying to open someone's door without asking.

(But Price knows.)

He ends up saying he's going to go deal with it himself to "Show them how it's done."

Really though, he's absolutely smitten with the idea of you. He knows that, given the time and will, his boys would absolutely bring you back - but he doesn't want that anymore. He has to see for himself the cute soft little human in the woods that's managed to catch all three of his best soldiers off guard because all three of them underestimated you.

He can't very well let anyone on base know (especially the civilians) what he is, so he waits until the dead of night to start flying - only does so when he's well past the point of being seen, even if it means he has to fly in his hybrid form, which is a little awkward when he doesn't do it as often.

He's a perfect gentleman when he walks up to your home at daybreak, letting his form go back to human.

He avoids every trap, tripwire, and camera that Simon and Johnny and Kyle had all warned him about so you don't have to spend your precious time and energy fixing them. He knocks on the door and waits until you open it, introduces himself as Captain John Price, love.

Apologies for the heavy handed attempts of his men as he stands on your doorstep. When you slam the door in his face he simply sighs and knocks again. And again, and again, until you finally relent and open the door back up.

He smiles, and asks if he can come in - you say no, and he smiles.

Love, if I wanted to I could push past you, I'm asking to be polite.

You freeze at that, trying to think, trying to evaluate. You're clever, he thinks with a pleased hum, half lidded eyes staring down at you. You sigh, and relent, finally - knowing that whatever battle that you'd be fighting uphill could at least be done over the breakfast you were starting to cook, and you didn't want to waste it.

Something twinges in John's chest as he sits at the table, and decides, like the rotten, greedy bastard he knows he is, that you're his. And not his like the rest of the people he's got, but his. You'll be his, no matter how long it takes him.

He lets you cook in silence, enjoying the mundane domesticity of it all, tucks into the plate of food gratefully, and feels like he's home.

After breakfast, John takes the time to ask you questions. About your past, about your hobbies outside of survival, how many things you've got that'll be coming with. When you remind him you haven't agreed, he chuckles and smooths a hand over your hair and reminds you that he hasn't asked.

You finally ask him what he is, and he blows a mote of smoke at you, watches the realization hit you before you go blank. A fucking dragon? You ask.

A fucking dragon, he responds.

John is extremely amused when you tell him to wait on the doorstep, and you go upstairs for something. When you come back down, you hand him a box full of jewelry (he almost laughs when he notices the amount of silver chains missing.)

He hands you the box back and curls a finger beneath your chin, calls you a silly girl/boy/pet and tells you that not all the stories are true. In this case, they are, of course- but he doesn't need to tell you that he hoards people, not things. That his hoard is every single person on base - doesn't tell you that his most treasured parts of his hoard are the three strong men who work directly with him, that he intends to keep them for as long as he lives, which will still be a damn long time coming, even if he's been around since before the middle ages.

You'll be his favorite of all though, he thinks.

He gives you a week, but tells you that his boys will keep an eye on you, make sure you're still there every day until he personally comes to escort you home. When you remind him, stubbornly, you are home, he laughs, and presses a kiss to your forehead while you stand there, bewildered.

In between that moment, and when you get back to base with him, I can't decide if its better if he ends up singlehandedly destroying a small horde of zombies with fire breath as the pits you've got full of traps fill up, or if it's better if he shows up with a box truck and a few men and they all end up moving you out of the house without asking. Maybe it's a mix of both - you decide!

But regardless, it ends exactly as he wants - you, tucked up into his lap as he reads reports and issues orders. He skips the dating and goes straight into being your husband - makes some sort of quip about being far too old (fashioned) to entertain the thought and goes straight to being married like "it used to be." Even though for a dragon he's still kinda young, hasn't even hit his comparative forties yet, actually. Even though it doesn't really matter, because as far as he's aware dragons don't die of old age so much as they die of other factors beyond their control. It's why he's so carefully cultivated his life towards survival thus far.

John lets you do whatever you want to keep you busy, the only real stipulation is that you come home to him at the end of the day. He's even quite respectful, really. He never touches you without your consent, aside from placing soft kisses on your temple or forehead, or cuddling up to you in your shared bed. (Which you say you only entertain because he's warm, and there's no heating in his room. But really, you love it when he holds you, and lets you hold him with no questions asked, all under the pretense of being half-asleep.)

He acts like he has all the time in the world for you to come around - and he does.

You'll be awfully sore later when you realize he's bound your life to his, even angrier when your teeth adjust and you can start seeing better. He'll pretend not to notice the changes at first to see what you think, and then he'll help you through all of them, cooing and sighing and rubbing into sore muscles as you learn how to control changing into your half-dragon form. Maybe in a couple hundred years you'll figure out how to fully transform into a dragon - maybe not.

[tangerinesilk]

BACK UP PLAN • TANGERINE x FEM!READER

they think you’re the diesel, but you know who took the case. too bad for you that tangerine, a guy from your past, likes to shoot first and ask questions later. as fun as that is, you quickly team up to figure out who took the case and what terrible fate they’ll meet... and of course, rehash your complicated past.

rating ✷ r (18+ only, minors dni!)

tropes ✷ enemies to lovers (but still enemies), pwp, cheeky banter, loud gf/quiet bf, butchered british slang, kind of mr. and mrs. smith energy, two idiots with one task

warnings ✷ cursing, violence being the answer, guns & knives, switch!tan x switch!reader, bathroom sex, fingering, quick p in v, lots of begging, exhibitionism, mention of hands/rings (my kink lmao)

word count ✷ 3.7k

a/n ✷ my first tangerine fic :D just feeding into my fixation and going down the aaron johnson rabbit hole again. wasn't expecting to do some bullet train writing, but..... here it is. there will be no part 2! hope y'all like it and feedback is always welcomed!

Shit was going down and surprisingly, it was not by your doing.

With your back pressed against the wall of the luggage holding, you could only hope the short but thick curtain covered your figure enough that anyone who passed wouldn’t see you. As you attempt to keep your breathing low and quiet, it hitches when you hear the sudden sound of automatic door opening.

“We need to find the cheeky fucker who took our case. Swear to God, I’ll bash his head in when I find him.”

That’s a thick accent you don’t forget. You don’t want to peak, but you can see the West Ham sticker on the back of his phone. 

It can’t be him. No, no…

“Lemon, I’ve gone up and down this train for the umpteenth time. I’m ‘bout ready to shoot any sleazy bellend who looks at me funny.”

Tangerine?

He was the only person you’ve been able to outrun yet here he was, only a few inches away and knowing damn well he would know how to tear into you for what happened in Copenhagen. Long story short, it ended with you tossing his favorite gun into the river and it’s made an even bigger target on your back.

While you do wear a mask that seals your identity during your heists, you prayed he didn’t remember eyes since you lost your only form of disguise when fighting the Prince. Just like you, she uses her looks to her gains, able to manipulate anyone by batting her eyelashes. She was the one with the case, and knowing her past, she’d blame it on someone else and you were most likely high up on the list.

“Alright, then. Let’s keep lookin’ for the bastard.” He said before hanging up.

You cover your mouth, your glare remaining steady on him before he takes a pause. His blue eyes search around the cart, huffing until you hear the other automatic door open. You fully step out of the small luggage spot and catching your breath, “I have to get off here.”

As the next stop was coming to a halt, a force pulled you back into the bathroom from an arm snaking around your waist. You couldn’t even gather your thoughts before feeling a cool metal pressing against your temple.

“Now I can only think of two reasons a girl like yourself is hiding behind a bunch of suitcases. One, she’s got a bit of a dickhead of a boyfriend or two, she’s got my fuckin’ case.”

You smirked, “If I had it, I would have hid better, don’t you think?” You hoped to fool him.

“Oh, darling. You think I’m that stupid, why don’t you just–” He turned you around to look into your eyes, and unfortunately, he had seen them somewhere, “Oi, where have I seen you before?”

“I’ve never met you before in my life, now if you’ll excuse me…” You trailed before he shifted to stand in front of the doorway, placing his gun on the sink counter.

“As much as I’d like to believe that, darling... you’re not going’ anywhere until I get my answer.” He said with an assertive tone, his jaw obviously clenched and his eyes piercing blue.

With his one hand on the trim of the sink and the other against the wall, he towered over you with his tall stance. He acted intimidating but you knew deep down there was hidden softness to his personality. ‘Warmer the closer you got’ type of shit.

Your eyes shifted from his eyes to his chest, hard to not stare with his first button undone and gold chain disappearing into his shirt. Able to display a poker face, Tangerine was still racking his brain around where he had seen those eyes before. He couldn’t place the last time he saw such a color.

I guess what you failed to mention is that something else happened in Copenhagen. To summarize, it involved a skin tight dress, a hotel key card and a getaway plan by dawn. What threw him off now was that you weren’t sporting the same short, auburn wig you sported that night you tried to get his attention.

“How am I supposed to give you an answer that I don’t have? You’re in my way.” You protest.

“And you’re not a very good liar, are ya?” He huffed, “Now, if you don’t have my case then who does?”

Not giving a second more, you pulled out your own gun tucked in the waist of your skirt, pushing it against his bare chest, “I think you better stay out of the way before you really get hurt.”

He didn’t bat an eye, but his eyes took a second glance at the tattoos drawn on the side of your middle finger and the top of your knuckles. Suddenly, he placed those hands from memory and the image of them running down his chest struck his mind. He looked back into your eyes and remembered how they kept steady contact as your tongue glided down his body.

“It’s been a while since Copenhagen, yeah?” He said, clenching his jaw once more.

Shit. Maybe you shouldn’t have doubted him so much.

“Well you’re not fooling me this time.” He grunted, quickly taking your gun while your guard was down for a split second, “I’ll give you one last chance, love. Tell me where the case is and maybe, I’ll be and gentleman and just escort you off at the next stop.”

“So cute how you’re trying to threaten me yet use a pet name. Guess I just know how to get to your soft spot, Tan.” You grinned, placing your hand on his cheek.

Mesmerized, a gloss smooths over his eyes before his phone vibrates in his pants pocket.

“Do you wanna get that or have me reach in there?” You taunted.

He replied with an eye roll, but quickly answered. “Yeah, what?” Tangerine answered, his eyebrow cocked.

A low voice told him that they needed to see proof of the case at the next stop or things could go south. Tangerine quickly hangs up during mid-threat, and you twist your lips.

“Since you can’t find your case, I assume you’re the one getting off at the next station.” You smirked, “Glad we got to catch up.”

“No, no, you little pain in my ass. You’re gonna put on a nice smile for these massive dickheads and stall with me…” He tilted his head a bit, “As far as I know, you know where the case is so I’ll be attached by the hip to you for the rest of the lovely ride to Kyoto.” Tangerine yammered on.

You rolled your eyes but he held your chin, making you look him in the eyes, “I’m sorry, does that bother you now?”

“Hmm, no. Just kind of sweet to know you haven’t forgotten about me.” You purposefully teased, your palm running down his chest before opening another button of his shirt with your one hand. It was a tactic to get under his skin, hoping to get some sort of reaction.

“You’re some tease who left me in Copenhagen, I’ve dealt with shots to the fuckin’ chest. You really think highly of yourself, don't ya.” He deflects but glances at your soft lips. 

You grinned, placing your hand on his cheek, “I don’t think I have to remind you of how low I’ll stoop to get a job done… or kneel.”

Tangerine felt your hand moving through the back of his hair, carding his loose curls before pressing your foreheads together. The tip of your nose brushed against his, your lips barely touching until the train came to a slow stop.

“Well, I guess it’s time to put on a good fucking act.” You huffed, pulling away and Tangerine didn’t realize he forgot to take a breath.

♡ ♡ ♡

He turned around, opening the bathroom door in one swift motion and the two of you stood by the exit. After quickly texting Lemon that he was going to stall, he gives you a look again– this time, his eyes shifting up and down your body, noticing the tear in your stockings. He knew you were up to something, but resisting the urge to press you up against a wall was making him ache a bit.

As the train door opened, Tangerine took a step toward you, “If anything goes down, you get behind me and get back on. Other than that, follow my lead.”

You nodded, “I have limited options… how generous of you.”

The two of you step off the train, and looking around for the men you’re asked to meet. As passengers got on and off, there was a small group that came your way and you stood next to Tangerine as they got closer.

“Where’s the case?” The tall one asked, standing center of the three other men.

“Lemon is keeping it safe right now.”

“Then who’s this?” 

Tangerine glanced at you, shrugging, “I’m a professional, I’ve got my back up… Peach.”

You wanted to narrow your eyes at him with a burning stare, but you maintained your composure to convince them. It was one step closer to getting the case, and it wasn’t the worse operative name.

The four men chuckle at it, and you cross your arms from the reaction, “So, are we done here?” You asked, “We’ve obviously got places to be now since your boss is up our asses about his case.” 

At first, they replied with scowls until Tangerine took a step in front of you, your chest basically touching his back.

“‘Cuse her attitude, it’s been a long night.” Tangerine acted as if he were in charge of you, “But, we’re all good now. The plan is still Kyoto, ta-ra now.” He faked a grin, pushing you toward the door as the alert sounded for boarding.

Before you knew it, the train was moving and the both of you plopped into two empty seats in the quiet car. As you watched Tangerine type out a text to Lemon, you scoffed, crossing your arms as you faced the window out to the city life of Japan.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Well, Lemon still hasn’t found the person with the case… fucker could have gotten off without us knowing.” 

You turned your head, “So, that’s means I’m off the list of the accused?”

“...I just don’t trust you.” He trailed, slipping his phone back into his pants pocket.

“Aw, still a little hurt from our last encounter?” You pouted, “Didn’t take you for such a softie, Tan.”

Tangerine clenched his jaw. He had little patience for your sass, but it was fun to fuck with him. You gently placed your hand on the top of his thigh, hidden under the table, and refused to lose eye contact with him. There were four stops left so, it was time to put a spontaneous plan B into motion: make him let his guard down for you.

You batted your eyelashes, “Tell me, do you still think about our night together? I didn’t mean to leave so quickly, but we had something… yeah?” You taunted him, your hand moving up his thigh. Just as your fingers were going to unbutton his pants, Tangerine quickly grabbed your wrist and put it back on his knee.

“You wanna play games, darling?” He grunted, “Then, I’ll play your game.”

You couldn’t help but admit that your heart beat against your chest, like the air in the cart had been sucked away and before you knew it, his right hand was running up your thigh until he ripped the rest of your stocking. You almost gasped, not wanting to attract attention, but he pulled it enough where your panties were exposed.

“Don’t get shy on me now, love.” Tangerine said under his breath as his hand entering between your legs. Once he pushed the black lace to the side, his two thick fingers entered your slit. The hand you had on his thigh suddenly met the wrist of his hand working your pussy.

His blue eyes softened, feeling how wet you already were and how you tried to restrain from arching your back against the seat. Being in plain light, you bit your bottom lip and concentrated on the scene passing by– obviously, not easy to focus on when Tangerine is gliding his fingers in and out of your wet slit. You could scream, knowing how deep they were from feeling his cool rings against your skin.

“I’d rub your clit, but I’d hate to make you cum right here… in front of everyone.” He looked around, as if he weren’t edging you, “You don’t really deserve to anyways.”

You took one big gulp, your hand gripping the arm rest now and you let him keep going. For as long as he wanted to and however fast he wanted to. As big of a talk you made, you were suddenly puddy in his hands– quite literally– and God, you didn’t want him to stop.

He pressed his lips against your ear, “Are you close?”

“Hmm.” You could barely let out a word, “N-no.”

“Don’t lie to me now so you can cum.” He chuckled.

Just like that, he quickly pulled his hand away and he saw how his fingers were coated in your glistening cum. As he went to place them in his mouth, you pulled his wrist and tasted your own cum on your tongue. 

All he could think was, “Fuck, her tongue is soft…” and reminisce the memory of his dick pushing down your throat.

You kissed his fingers before setting his hand back on his lap, and he watched you pant. Such a beautiful mess, he thought again.

Pushing your skirt back down, you crossed your legs as you ran your fingers through your hair. “You fucking ripped my nice tights…” You huffed, pulling the band from the waist and pulling them down your legs. You balled them up as you put your shoes back on, and stuffed them between the wall of the train and the seat.

You blew a breath past your lips, “Alright, that was fun but I gotta go.” You gulped, attempting to get up but he pushed your leg back down so you basically say back down.

“You’re stayin’ right here.” He said, not looking at you but around the cart, “Because the next stop, you’re gettin’ off… not like how you did right now but-”

You cut him off, “What?” You scoffed, your cheeks feeling heated, “No, I’m not getting off this train until I have the case!”

You didn’t mean to spill your own secret, but your guard had been put down. Shit.

He smirked, “See, I knew you had somethin’ to do with the case. Now you’re definitely gettin’ off at the next stop or I’ll-”

Cut off again, he sees Lemon walking down, also without the case in hand, and Tangerine quickly gets up. He met him halfway in the aisle, so you got up to see what was going on and if it was about the case.

“Who’s this? Looks familiar…” Lemon trailed as he pointed at you, then back at Tangerine.

“She’s no one-”

“Actually we passed each other in Copenhagen. You called me an Emily.” You grinned, tilting your head.

“Ah, yes. Emily, very kind but a tad bossy…” Lemon nodded but then narrowed his eyes, “Lookin’ for the case too, yeah?... unless you have it and we’re runnin’ around like headless chickens.” You could see his hand reaching into his jacket.

“I wish. Trust me…” You crossed your arms.

“Yeah, and she was just leaving on the next stop. No business being around here, muckin’ about.” Tangerine said without looking at you again, just making eye contact with Lemon.

“You treat me like I’m incompetent yet I beat both your asses back in Copenhagen and managed to steal the getaway car. Why don’t you two leave and let me handle whoever has the case.” You shoved past Tangerine, “Fucking amateurs.” You muttered under your breath.

Lemon turned around, Tangerine behind him, “She’s definitely is an Emily.”

Tangerine rolled his eyes, “I’ll go get take care of her. You check back down that way.” He clenched his jaw, pushing back his rolled sleeves.

♡ ♡ ♡

The door opened to the first class cart, already imagining your hands wrapped around the Prince’s neck once you had an eye on her. Dim orange lights lit your way, a few people asleep with blankets on top of them. 

Just as you came close to the lounge toward the end, a hand gripped your wrist. Before asking any questions, your other hand quickly swung down on the other’s wrist, thinking it was the Prince, but you were met with another set of bright eyes.

“Let go of me.” You muttered under your breath, not trying to get anyone’s attention.

Like deja vu, Tangerine pulled you into the bathroom and locked the door. It wasn’t as tight as the other passenger bathroom, but still had little room to move around with two people.

“Do I gotta tell you again?” Tan practically growled.

“You can’t tell me what to do. What do you want from me that you keep cornering me like this?” Your tone matched his.

He took a deep breath through his nostrils, and suddenly felt the tension. He couldn’t take his eyes from you, never admitting that he had been thinning about you since Copenhagen, so instead his lips met yours.

You weren’t surprised, but you missed his lips. You bit his bottom lip, your body relaxing as you fell into his arms. Your noses brushed together, foreheads close before you unbuttoned his shirt, your hands meeting his soft skin. It slipped past his toned arms, and he pressed your hips against the sink counter.

As you lifted your leg by his side, he put his hand underneath your knee to keep it high. Tangerine kissed and nipped at your neck after taking your shirt off, tossing it on top of the closed toilet seat. You ran your fingers through his messy curls, gripping them as you shared hungry kisses. His hard pressed against his slacks, rubbing against your inner thigh.

“You’ve got about four minutes, Tan.” You said between kisses, “I don’t know if you’re that fast.”

“You underestimate me, love.” He grunted, “It’s gettin’ a bit old.”

Suddenly, he hiked your skirt and you played along, spreading your legs enough for his body to move between them. He quickly unzipped his pants while his right hand rubbed your wet clit and the left hand against your neck. 

You giggled, biting your bottom lip before slipping the tip of his cock into your pussy. You held back your gasp, giggling instead to get a rise out of him, but it just made him squeeze your neck a bit.

“Almost forgot how big you were.” You pouted, but he thrusted inside of you. You audibly gasped, and kissed his thumb pressed against your bottom lip.

At first he was slow-paced, purposefully making you beg for it. He knew your weak spots yet his head fell against your shoulder, a light whimper escaping his throat remembering how tight your cunt was. He held your leg up again, giving him an angle to work with and his cock bottomed out inside your pussy.

“Fuck!” You croaked, “God, you’re so… big. Stretching me out so good, baby.” You whined.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Tan cursed, his hips bucking as your skins slapped together. He was eager to make you cum, shattering in his arms and falling apart like he adored. His hand slapped against your ass cheek, kneading it the closer he got. 

You leaned your head back, rolling your eyes back and could see stars, Tangerine practically lifting you off your feet as your walls began to tighten around his hard cock.

“Please… please let me cum.” You begged, your eyes barely open, “I wanna cum. Please.”

“Gotta beg a little more, darling.” He gulped as his pace got faster, not realizing how strong he was, “Keep those pretty eyes lookin’ at me.”

You arched your back, “Ah, please!… I want your fucking cum filling me up. Make me cum all over your cock, baby.” Your pitch elevated, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum!”

He grunted against your shoulder, giving it a small bite before saying, “Cum, cum for me, love.” He lighty gasped but tried to mask it by kissing your shoulder.

Your fingers pulled his messy curls, not able to explain the complete bliss running throughout every vein and nerve in your body. His hand covered your mouth just as yours covered his, muffing your defeated moans when the two of your released inside your pussy.

As you came down from your highs, the two of you let out tired chuckles. His cock was still inside you, feeling your warm walls as he shared one last sloppy kiss. 

Your thumb ran across his cheek, “Better than Copenhagen?”

He half-smiled, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Ultimately, you agreed to let them take it from there. It was two more stops, and the train was coming to it’s next destination. You and Tangerine stood by the door, watching it slowly open and your stubbornness was eating you up. Although it was a risk to get off the train, seemed there was more than the two of you looking for the case. If anything, you loss some pay.

“You better get off now.” Tangerine told you, the two of you watching people pass.

You hummed, “I know… hope you can tell me how it goes if we ever meet again.” You sighed, placing your hands on his chest. Your eyes met with his, and he furrowed his brows. You twisted your hips, taking a deep breath before quickly meeting your lips with his again. Tender and slow.

 As you pulled your face from his, you nodded, “Bye, Tangerine.”

He expected for you to pass, and he actually thought he was going to miss you.

Instead, you forcefully pushed him out the door and it closed him out from coming back in. You rolled your eyes, walking up to the window as you watched the train pull from the station.

“I really am good.” You smirked.

[steventhusiast]

OH MY GOD!!! I NEED MORE ITALIAN STEVE! HIS ACCENT?? I CAN JUST IMAGINE IT AND IM LITERALLY MELTING AHH

okay so my thinking is steve is staying with robin and eddie for a few months because he wants to live in the US to be closer to robin and needs to scout out jobs and possible apartments. so he and eddie start dating because they have a few months together and steve is planning to move to the US anyway. so the preface for this is they are already dating, have been for a few weeks probably. steve decides to take eddie to the only authentic italian restaurant he could find because he wants to show eddie real italian food

and i recently found out about the 'rules' around having a cappuccino in italy from a tiktok and it made me laugh so take whatever this is:

-

"why are you looking nervous?" steve asks as they sit across from each other. he reaches one hand out to squeeze eddie's, and offers him a reassuring smile.

"oh, just- this is a fancy restaurant." eddie explains, and looks around at the well-decorated room they're in. when steve had said he would take care of the next date, eddie doesn't know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't a restaurant that he has to wear a semi-formal shirt to.

he's a broke college student, so his idea of fancy is going to the diner that hasn't got a broken window instead of the one that's kind of falling apart. he feels out of his depth.

"yes. it is... um, real? real italian food." steve smiles at him, and eddie nods slowly.

"you said you're paying, right?" he checks, because he's looking at the menu and if he's paying for his meal he needs to order.. probably just bread if he's honest.

"of course i am paying," steve says and rolls his eyes. he makes a tsk sound after a second of eddie still looking hesitant, "money is no problem, eddie."

eddie looks at him for a couple seconds, and then nods slowly. fine. if steve's paying, it's fine. it's quiet for a second as eddie finally lets himself look at the pasta section of the menu, opting for something safe. if steve's paying, he's going to order something he knows he'll eat.

"what's gnocchi?" he questions, and looks up to see steve just watching him with that tiny little smile he gets sometimes. it always makes eddie feel like he's the centre of steve's world, and it's a little overwhelming in a good way.

steve snorts at eddie's pronunciation, and corrects him gently.

"gnocchi is... dumpling made from potato." steve explains simply, and eddie squints down at the menu for another second before steve adds on, "i think you will enjoy."

eddie nods decisively, and it's that moment that a waitress loops around to their table. she puts down the drinks they'd ordered when they arrived (a water for eddie, a campari, whatever that is, for steve) and asks if they're ready to order.

"yes! i will have ragu alla bolognese, please." steve requests, and the waitress's eyes light up a bit.

"parla italiano?" she asks steve, and he nods and exchanges a few lines of italian with her. eddie feels very lost, and when the waitress redirects her gaze to him, he feels an embarrassed heat in his cheeks. he knows he's about to butcher the pronunciation of this dish. couldn't even say gnocchi right the first time.

"i'll have the, uh, gnocchi alla.. sorrentina?" he says slowly, and the waitress just nods with a smile. he feels more relaxed, less embarrassed.

"and would you like a drink other than water with your meal, sir?"

eddie quickly looks over the drinks selection on the menu and nods. he hadn't ordered a proper drink earlier, because he had been worried about money, but now he's feeling a coffee.

"a cappuccino please." he smiles at the waitress, and she and steve both blink at him a couple times. the embarrassment is back, "what? what'd i do?" he asks steve.

"you are sure you want.. cappuccino? with pasta? at eight o clock?" he checks. eddie nods slowly.

"okay! you're sure you don't want a different coffee, sir?" the waitress checks, and eddie shakes his head even slower. he knows he's missing something here, but he's not sure what. "okay! okay. sure."

and with that confusing interaction, the waitress walks off to the kitchen and looks as if she steels herself before walking in.

"what did i do?" eddie asks, redirecting his wide eyes to steve, who looks like he's holding back giggles.

"it is hard to explain," steve offers, and the giggles start to seep through as he tries to explain anyway, "cappuccino is morning coffee, not evening coffee."

eddie's still lost, and steve reaches for his hand again and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"in my culture, there is rules about food and drink. not- not real rules.. um...." steve pauses as he searches for the right word and comes up empty.

"standards?" eddie tries, and steve shrugs and nods.

"standards. cappuccino is for breakfast. it has... lot of milk. it is bad for, uhh, digestione."

eddie flushes bright red and covers his face with his hands.

"i embarrassed myself." he whines, "at a fancy restaurant you took me to because you're lovely, i messed it up!"

he keeps his hands there for a second, but steve giggles some more and gently moves eddie's hands away.

"no, eddie. well- maybe if we are in italy you messed up, but we are in america. it is fine."

eddie still feels a little embarrassed, but steve is smiling at him with something sparkling in his eyes. he looks... unbelievably fond.

"if you say so." eddie sighs, and steve's eyes crinkle up at the corners as his smile widens.

"i do say so. and i am always right, so. no embarrassment!"

"okay, okay.." eddie starts giggling with steve at the whole situation.

if he ever visits italy, he's gonna have to brush up on these strange food rules.

[totallysora]

Newsies (Live)

Ok so I rewatched newsies live at like,,Christmas and have been caught in a major newsies spiral so here are my thoughts 😻‼️

Jeremy Jordan 🥰 I get that he was kinda old to play Jack but Idc he’s iconic I’m so glad they called him back to play him

Same with Kara she’s an icon and literally the only Katherine I will accept for the proshot

Completely random but I’m glad it was a proshot and not an attempt to make it into a musical movie 😭 (especially since 92sies is literally already a movie lmao)

I also rewatched the og movie and watching it reminded me how much they BUTCHERED SPOT’S SCREEN TIME 😕 and therefore Tommy’s screen time 😔

Also Tommy Bracco he is literally the only spot I will accept (and like,,the only spot on bway that Ik so 😭)

The bg newsies 🥰 Literally all of them they were all icons the cast was literally perfect it’s unreal

ETHAN 😭 HE’S SUCH A CUTIE AND IS SO DRAMATIC IT’S ADORABLE

Andrew Keenan Bolger, also so glad they got him back as crutchie cuz he is an I c o n (as much as I love Andy I deffo prefer Andrew as crutchie lmao)

The fact that there were enough members in the cast that there was literally only 1 case of a newsie doubling up on characters

Literally the entirety of seize the day

The fact that Jeremy runs away from all of the dancing 😭

Also how Jeremy almost kills himself at the end with the heel click/bell kick 💀

The fact Michael (Tommy boy) has a rlly bad American accent but that’s ok cuz I can’t do one either 🥰

BROOKLYN’S HERE 😻‼️‼️

How Tommy’s (spot) eyeliner/eye lashes are sm more noticeable than everyone else, especially his bottom lashes lmao

How tf did Morris not hurt his hand when he hit the printing press?? Like gurl what 😭

The Delancey brothers - they were like,,deffo less comical than in the og movie but still rlly silly 😭

The fact morris literally just stands on top of the newspaper bit for like the entire show

Them bonking heads (I am a Delancey apologist sorry guys 😔)

Ben Tyler Cook 🥰 I absolutely adore Ryan Breslin and actually would’ve loved to see him return as Race but god Ben is so silly I love him sm 😭

“The woild is yer erster” - Literally no one beats his version of this sorry 😭

Pulitzer - He was so good and literally for what bro 😭

”It’s a compromise we can all live with” - Jack Kelly 1899

BEN FANKHAUSER‼️ Also literally the only appropriate Davey fr

The way at the start of Brooklyn’s here Jeremy hits the printing press in time with the music

The set 😻 Ik it’s kinda simple but literally shut up it’s iconic

The height difference between Tommy and Ben at the end of Brooklyn’s here and like,,everywhere lmao

Honestly the height difference between Tommy and everyone

Joshua Burrage - He’s so silly I love him sm

MEDDAAA‼️ GOD HER VOICE IS JUST SO UGH 😫 AND SHE’S SUCH A SWEETHEART LIKE PLS MA’AM BE MY MOTHER 😭

Will never get over how they can sing like that whilst dancing

HOW DOES BEN COOK NOT DROP HIS CIGAR WHILST DANCING SO WELL LIKE???

So sad Ryan Steele wasn’t there 😔 The dude who played specs was good tho (+Michael covered for the turns so 🤷‍♀️)

Hannah was so unserious she’s so funny 😭

Once and for all - this song will literally always give me chills

TOMMY NOT THROWING THE PAPER STACK HIGH ENOUGH DURING ONCE AND FOR ALL 😭

Ben Cook kicking himself in the face during seize the day 💀

THE CAMERA ANGLE WE GET DURING THE RALLY RIGHT BEFORE JEREMY ENTERS

The hug between Tommy and Michael (Spot+Tommy Boy) at the end when Jeremy tells them they won ☹️

The fact Oscar and Morris went for Les first?? Like gurl I get it he’s probably easiest to carry but what were yall trying to achieve with that 😭

The fact that the Delanceys like,,actually got their asses beat like that shit kinda looked like it hurt 💀

SANTA FEEEE‼️ Iconic 😻

The way Crutchie screams for Jack ☹️ although that one “what ya say” meme where it starts playing after Oscar hits him has kinda ruined that scene for me cuz I keep laughing abt it 😕

That one two people cartwheel during the scene change

”I’m glad to have you back :)” “Shuddup” - Jack and Davey (THEY’RE GAY YOUR HONOUR)

There is literally no heterosexual explanation for that scene

THE LOOK DAVEY GIVES JACK WHEN THEY REALISE HE’S A SELLOUT

Once again literally no heterosexual explanation for that scene

Ok but literally just how much fun all of the newsies look like they’re having?? Especially in king of new york like they honestly look like they’re having the time of their lives 😭

“That’s disgusting” - David Jacobs, 1899 (when he’s a victorian newsboy who cares about hygiene 🥰🤭)

Ik Pulitzer saif it too but Idc ok the dude who played Pulitzer was kinda hot anyways (I don’t make the rules sorry 🤷‍♀️ [I am sorry for this tho my taste in men is uh 😨])

That one thing Jeremy does after he shakes Roosevelt’s hand for the first time 😭

”Your majesty” - Crutchie, 1899 (Referring to the governor 😭)

Maybe I should just make one of these with my favourite lines cuz I have so many

Honestly literally the whole fucking musical it was iconic and I am forever grateful that it exists 😻

Honestly there’s probably so so so much more but that’s all I can like,,fully remember rn but I’ll definitely rewatch it and update this lmao

Overall I absolutely adore the musical, and I’m glad the proshot exists cuz it is I c o n i c (also I am totally gonna make a list of my favourite lines from it lmao)

[tojisun]

‘til you found me

jake sully x metkayina!reader

!! follows atwow but also not canon-compliant; reader’s origins are not mentioned; fluff; jake calls reader baby girl 😔🤞🏼(i was projecting too hard); 1.7k words

: i watched atwow four times now oh my god im losing my mind bros, this is genuinely just to project my yearning – just jake taking reader for a ride on his ikran; the fic is not as polished but god it means sm to me so i hope you guys would love it too <33; psa - im still new to the lore n fandom so if i butchered the canonverse, pls do forgive me babes; title from lost at sea - lana

jake’sully tilts his head to the side, his lips tugging up in a smirk. your eyes flash to his fangs for a quick second, their perfect sharpness making your lungs constrict to the point that your lips almost parted to let out a gasp.

you look away just as fast, finding his hazel eyes again but jake’sully’s smirk has grown.

he has seen the way you looked at him.

“so? what’d you say i take you f’r a ride, baby girl?” he finally asks, his voice a rich baritone. his na’vi is still accented with his earthen dialect and there are times that your ears strain to try to understand what he is saying but right now, you know you would not like anything else.

“i’m not a babe,” you murmur, your tail whipping in agitation, reflecting the turbulence in your heart.

you know you sound petulant – just like a babe, you think to yourself – but there is a part of you that wants to prove to jake’sully that even without warrior’s blood coursing through your veins, there is still more to you than an inkling similarity to that of an unknowing infant. after all, eywa smiles upon you too.

jake’sully’s eyes crease, his smirk tilting a little and you see flash of apprehension in his eyes – hazel like the roots of marui – before he huffs, a sound that is quiet but fond.

“‘s not what i meant, kid,” he replies, his hands reaching to tangle with yours. you blink at the touch, watching the earthen fingers weaving with yours, still unused to the difference but not bothered by it at the same time.

“i just,” he continues when you do not reply. his voice strains like he is nervous, and you almost smile at the idea that the toruk makto is nervous because of you. “y’r just precious to me, ‘s all.”

you sniff, trying to quash the burning of your cheeks, afraid that he would see the flush racing from the tips of your ears to the centre of your nose. you turn away from him, looking at his ikran.

it is bigger than an ilu, the only ride you can mount, and it looks even more daunting than a tsurak. perhaps it is because a tsurak is still of the waters but an ikran is something so foreign; it is a beast that governs the sky – a prey and, occasionally, an ally of the toruk. there is no reason for a metkayina weaver to mount such creature.

yet here jake’sully is, coaxing you on its back.

perhaps all the breathing exercises have finally got to him.

he laughs when you murmur this to him, his head falling back as explosive laughter booms from his lips. his beautiful lips.

“precious one, indeed.” his eyes are crinkling in delight again and you have truly never seen anything as breathtaking.

there is so much of the forest in jake’sully. it is not only his arms or his tail that portray this, but it is the way he walks: the sureness in his stride like there is no other purpose for his feet other than walking. moving.

it is in the way he hunts: how he is poised on a higher ground, even when mounting his tsurak, listening to his surroundings, before going for the kill. he does not use nets, just his spear or his dagger, and yet he always seemed to claim the biggest fish in the reef.

it is in the way he talks: his words clipped and short, barked out orders that would have been insignificant when in water. he talks like he is afraid that his voice would be lost amidst the chirps of the birds or the rustles of the leaves instead of resonating amongst the people.

it is in the way he uses his hands: closed palms instead of flatly opened, the way it normally is in your clan. all he has known is how to grab and how to yank, but he is learning how to wade. and he is so good at it.

jake’sully is alien even without his demon blood. and yet you cannot help but gravitate towards him, always responding to his call with your own, letting yourself be part of his family.

(“she would have fought you,” jake’sully whispered one evening, his bigger body submerged in the waters, his head resting between your thighs as you worked on his hair and braided them into neat strands.

i know, you wanted to say. she would’ve won the fight before i could even move.

i know, you wanted to say. and maybe then you wouldn’t look at me.

there are so much you wanted to say but you remained silent, letting the gliding waters fill the silence between you, your trembling fingers working slowly to finish the braids.)

“i think i would like to ride him, if that is okay with you, jake’sully?” you tell him, tugging at his hand as you spoke.

“just ‘jake’, baby girl,” he replies as he smiles again. “and of course. i promise you: y’would love the sky.”

you nod, not knowing what is the right thing to say as you mull over his name, earthen by origin but something that is so fitting for the forest warrior.

jake lets go of your hand to pull at his braid and make tsaheylu with his ikran. you watch from your peripheral, making sure that you would not look at the ikran’s eyes. your ears flick as it makes clicking sounds in response to their formed connection before you hear jake replying to it with soft whispers, his voice curling into something that is gentle.

you smile to yourself, feeling warmth exploding in your belly at hearing this side of jake. you are sure that there are only few of your clan’s people who know of jake’s gentleness – they are still too used to only seeing him as his history. the man that he was in the past.

but you understand why.

he may not be olo'eyktan in awa'atlu with the metkayina, but that is not something that just goes away because of formalities. jake commandeers respect even amongst your people, his words and his actions garner awe and produce inspiration.

he is also good to the eyes.

you remember the women in your clan giggling to themselves, envisioning how it’d be like to be with the toruk makto, and fanning themselves when the topic became too sensual. too physical. their voices always petered out into wistful sighs, unable to contain their desires even when jake had been dubbed demon-blood by the tsahik.

it is not like you can fault them, not when you had been one of the many admirers of jake. you just didn’t expect the toruk makto, the former olo'eyktan of omotikaya and the warrior that led the clans to victory against the sky people, to give you his attention.

“come, baby girl,” jake says, yipping to catch your attention. you blink your eyes at him, turning, before you startle at seeing his ikran looking at you, its head tilted to the side – a perfect mirror of jake’s mannerism. “ride with me.”

he offers you his hand and you have barely twined your fingers with his before he is pulling you up, your body going weightless at the sheer strength of toruk makto’s.

you squeak, startling, and jake laughs at your reaction. even his ikran clicks in a tone that resembles laughter and you feel so embarrassed as you press your face onto jake’s back. his skin meets your soft cheeks and the contact has your breath hitching.

jake has always been tactile with you but there is something new today. perhaps it is the whistling winds or the weight of his hand on your thighs, keeping you from slipping off the ikran from where you are sat behind him. whatever it was, you are sure you heard jake’s stuttered breath.

it seems like you aren’t the only one overthinking everything or who is hyperaware of the contact. you smile, knowng that jake can feel your upturned lips from where they are pressed flush on his skin.

jake murmurs something too faint for you to hear before he clicks and the ikran soars.

oh great mother, you think as the wind whirls past you, your braids pushing away from your body as the ikran flies. jake laughs, so joyful that you feel your stomach twisting, coaxing you to stop shrieking and to look up from where you are still pressed on his back.

you want to snap at him and tell him to shut up but you know he is only being nice, after all, jake just wants to show you how the world looks from the sky. so you control your breathing, calming your heart, before you pull away from jake’s body and tilted your head down.

oh how beautiful it is.

the waters stretch further than you expected, their colours changing to signify their depth. you notice the way the lush corals of the reef and the scattering in the thin forest of the island is shining, their lights flickering and dancing with life.

you are so overwhelmed by what you are seeing that you don’t even know you are crying, a sob creeping past your lips. jake startles, not having expected a visceral reaction from you, and you feel him change course, surely finding a place to land his ikran.

this tenderness of his brings more tears to spill from your eyes, your heart weighing in your chest so heavily that you are sure you will explode with it. you push your face on jake’s back again, your arms tightening around his waist, before you press a kiss on his skin.

“i see you, jake,” you say, unsure if your voice would carry to him even amidst the whipping wind.

you feel jake’s hand tighten around your thigh and that is all the confirmation you need.

then, “i see you, baby girl.”

@whats-belay, thank you for letting me use u as a soundboard throughout the four times ive watched atwow! hope you would love this, especially since it’s more coherent than my keyboard smash

[neko-loogi]

Heeeyy, I'm back with a new Helluva Boss opinion post thingy

Okay so, the Mammon episode- it was alright I guess? Tbh it didn't strike me as super awesome or anything, it's just kinda there?

Anyway, let's talk about it a little bit!

So I wanted to start off with Mammon himself, I'm gonna be honest I don't hate him but I don't like him either. I'll admit I do actually like his voice, I'm sure y'all might find it annoying but I dunno, I like his accent and the way he talks is kinda funny. His design tho? Eh, it could use some work.

For instance, his eyes are weird, like every time he was on screen my first thought was always: "Wow, he looks like Robin from TTG". I also hate how he's shaped like your typical "fat" character from cartoons. But for some reason they decided to give him skinny arms but a round body. He's weirdly disproportionate, which is disappointing because they definitely could make a better plus sized character design. But oh well, knowing Viv, she wouldn't even try.

I will admit his true demon form is kinda cool, except that I actually thought he was going to be a caterpillar or something but he's a spider? I swear, Viv has some weird design choices.

Moving on, the episode was cluttered as hell. It had way too much stuff in it, which made the episode feel eternal. Not only that but the episode has 4 songs.. FOUR FUCKING SONGS- When will Viv realize that not every HB episode needs a song? Like is this shit an animated series or a fucking musical? Make up your mind Viv-

Anyway, I'm glad this episode focuses on Fizz, but his character did feel a bit off in certain scenes, but aside from that everything else was fine. (I found that scene of Fizz talking to the deaf imp child while using sign language to be very endearing).

Alright, I'mma point out a few other things real quick:

Ozzie's relationship with Fizz is absolutely adorable and I love them so much. However I don't understand why they portray their relationship as a bad thing? Like, fucking Queen Bee is dating Vortex (who's a hellhound, and they are a lower class than imps) and nobody says anything and she's a sin- so why can't Ozzie do the same??

I also happen to noticed that Fizz and Mammon's relationship is similar to Angel Dust and Valentino's- I just hope they don't completely butcher my boy Fizz, because he's the ONLY character I genuinely like from this god awful series.

Edit: I find it outrageous that Fizz apologized to Blitzo in the previous episode for the accident and claims that yes, he was affected by it but he's gotten over it. Yet here, he's super insecure about it and seeks approval from Mammon. It doesn't make sense- I swear it's like the characters are evolving backwards (as in the character development just resets and they act like nothing happened).

I also just wanted to say that this character made me feel super uncomfortable throughout the episode (which I guess is the point, but honestly they didn't need to add him.) Like, was it really necessary to include this Reddit mod, Discord user incel with an obsessive personality to the episode? He doesn't really contribute much other than to probably trigger people who have dealt with some form of harassment like this, and to make Fizz look super helpless so that Blitzo can defend him.

Blitzo didn't contribute anything to the episode, they didn't need to add him either. Like we get it he's the main character but that doesn't mean he has to be in every fucking episode doing absolutely nothing other than saying a bunch of curse words or shooting someone.

In conclusion, I didn't like this episode that much. I was expecting more to be completely honest.

Sorry if this post was a little long- I wanted to write more stuff but I don't want to burden y'all with reading a lot of shit lmao. Anyway, that's all, love ya <3

[im-notbean]

Headcannons of; Quackity x Greek! Male! Reader

On god bro. I just really want somebody who speaks Greek on the QSMP. So in orderto cure this fantasy of mine I have now created this, sorry if you dont like the fact that Y/N is greek but I had to do it. Sooner or later okay-

⚠︎ Warning ⚠︎

Swearing

Some cultural things you might not understand

Might not be accurate to the cannon QSMP

This post has both Q!Quackity and CC!Quackity

Grammar mistakes

Characters might be a bit off to you

Mentions of Homophobia

Author kinda pools info about greek food-

If anything bothers you from above please, don't read!

CC!Quackity

・Your accent>>>>>>

・I'm sorry but he just loves it, especially when you pronounce certain words.

・Like saying yogurt and bread shit like that you know?

・If you say Alex in greek he gets scared- (Άλεξ [Álex] might not be accurate lol)

・Praise. Him. In. Greek.

・He get's so mad if you don't, goes full on Mexican on your ass-

・Quackity definitely respects your boundaries, so he'd ok with you not wanting to be public about your guy's relationship

・Especially with Twitter and shit (I refuse to call Twitter "X")

・Makes the funniest jokes and yall know those corny ass pick up lines

・Like "I wish you were my Xbox, cause I wanna play you all~~ night ♡"

・He definitely does those daily

・He can't cook for shit, so you have banned him from the kitchen

・It's always akward explaning that to your parents...

・Quackity loves it when you cook for him

・Especially Greek deserts (I'm just gonna fanboy over greek food for a hot minutes)

・Like tiramisu or like those almond cookies

・OR FUCKING BAKLAVA

・OR EVEN LOUKOUMADES

・Incase you don't know what I'm fanboying over, Tiramisu is an Italian dish so I'm not gonna go over it in much detail

・Basically a layered desert with espresso innit

・Baklava is one of the MOST iconic Greek deserts, it's layered with phyllo pastery, melted butter, and nuts!

・The most common are pistachios and walnuts by the way and theirs a layer of cinnamon-orange syrup pored over it once it is baked!

・Loukoumades are the Greek version of fried dough, their normally topped with honey, cinnamon, and walnuts.

・Anyway...

・He loves then sm

・If yall decide to make your relationship public, he wants you to decide how to do it.

・I personally believe you take over his stream one day as his "Special Guest"

・A cooking stream because y'know- it's iconic

・Your baking a classic greek disk.

・Gyro (Pronouced Yee-ro by the way)

・Basically Gyro is a dish that is a mix of lamb and beef (sometimes chicken too) that is made to fill pita bread.

・The sauce that is paired with is called tzatziki (it's really fucking good.) it normally has tomatos and onions and paied with greek fries.

・So your cooking the meat and stuff and Quackity just comes up behind you and you turn around right cause you know he's their

・So quickly, you bend down and kiss him.

・A little smooch before you kick him out th kitchen-

Q!Quackity

・You guys met on the train to the island.

・He tried talking to you but he seriously could not understand you, it wasas if you were speaking another language.

・When the government had paired people up, you didn't get a partner :(

・You also didn't really want an egg either, but you didn't mind babysitting them!

・Phil is so greatful for this-

・Quackity had heard about your egg sitting and decided to leave Tillin (I think i butchered this ngl) in your care

・Tillin loved you, she also liked the fact that she could understand you and offered as a translator.

・When Quackity came back he was surprised to see his own child translating what you were saying

・Once the new members joined you were assined partners with Tubbo (I am not sure if the new members have assigned parners ngl so...also are we getting new members today?)

・(Not even joking- ANYWAY LMAO)

・So y'know how Tubbo can get info out of Curchuro (prob butchered that again lol)

・You can do it also, sence your the only person on the server who can speak greek and not English he thinks the info he tells you is safe.

・You get Tillin to translate to Tubbo about what Curchuro tells you >:D

・Quackity learns about this and then he realized what the fuck is happening

・The he realized one day, you were gone.

・Along with the eggs.

・He never realized how much he liked you until you left...

・Quackity tried looking for you and the eggs

・But he never got far

・Tubbo also tried to help look for you, to no avail

・Not gonna lie, you and Phil got locked in a cage togther 😂

[samsno1]

Liberty or Life

Billy Butcher x Gn!POC!Reader

hello i fucking suck at titles? anyway, i wrote this at the beach while i was getting tanned because i never found a butcher fic with this exact vibe so i said "yk what, imma write ts"

ill maybe do a part 2 if i feel like it

Sumary: The reader finds something about Liberty and wants to check it out. Butcher thinks it's just too easy to be true.

Warnings: SPOILERS THE BOYS S2, english isn't my first language, kinda mean butcher but he means it well, poc!reader (wrote it with latinos in mind but i didn't mention us especifically so dig in), use of y/n, HURT/COMFORT, blood, violence, gore (?), cursing (i mean its the boys), hom*lander mentioned (yes he gets a fucking warning), i didn't make the reader speak neither spanish nor portuguese, up to ya, i had no idea how to transcribe his british accent but i did my best. NOT PROOF READ

WC: 3.3k

You can learn how to change the "Y/N" for your actual name here

if you enjoy it please lmk!

Of course it was a trap. A fucking trap.

While confined in your apartment, searching more and more about Stormfront - AKA Liberty - after the encounter with the poor woman that ended up losing her brother to her hands right in front of her eyes you found a clue, something that could help take her down.

According to the document you spent the whole night reading with several cups of coffee and a killing migraine, there was a file hidden in a building close to Vought's that gave away all the racist behavior of Liberty's past (and present). It would be more than enough to make the people mad.

Hell, it made you mad. An immigrant trying to bring down an incredibly popular Supe, who would definetly get rid of any of your people out of North American territory? Definitely a perfect situation for your ass, not dangerous at all.

But still, if not you and The Boys, who? Even if Butcher's focus wasn't her it was for you, as a personal offense.

You knew racism wasn't foreign in the Superhero industry (or in the United States as a whole, you lived it constantly) but executing people of color is borderline a genocide and it was happening right under the peoples noses. God, praised even.

You scoffed at the screen of your computer and picked up your phone to call either Butcher or MM about what you found, to see if they could back you up on the mission.

You dialed Butcher first, putting your cell to your ear as you got up from the chair, your legs needing a stretch, as you walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge to get a beer. It is 6pm somewhere you thought.

As you popped open the can the familiar british accent hit your ears and you subconsciously smiled to yourself.

“Wha’ d'ya want, luv?” He asked, voice gruff, clearly woken up by your call. You imagined his tousled hair. Maybe he was shirtless.

“Did I wake you?” You asked, taking a sip of the bitter drink on your hand, the alcohol much appreciated in your stomach.

“Maybe” He said and you could hear the teasing smile on his face.

“I'm sorry, I just called to say I found something on Liberty…Stormfront…whatever her fucking name is” You clarified as you mindlessly play with the seal of the beer can with your index finger “There's a building nearby that hides some documents about her, y'know, the shady stuff. I wanted to go there tonight, see if I find it”

You hear shuffling in the other line with a grunt, assuming he was getting up from the bed – or wherever he was sleeping.

He didn't speak for some moments letting you hear his bare feet walking around his apartment.

“I don’ know abou’ it Y/N, how'd ya even find those?” He asked, his voice hesitant.

“Butcher, I'm a hacker and Vought's system sucks ass compared to what I've already done” You explained “I just got in, easy”

You can't see it but he bites his bottom lip on the other line. He was still skeptical, would it really be that easy to find stuff on a Supe like Liberty? He knew your abilities, hell, he admired it but he was always extra careful when it came to you.

“Really?” He asked and you could feel the way his eyebrow raised and you scoffed “Okay, I'm jus’ doubtful, Liberty hasn’ been talked abou’ in ages an’ ya find stuff…easy?”

“What, lost faith in my abilities?” You teased. You finished your beer and threw the can in the thrash, it hitting the bottom of the thrash with a loud thud “C'mon, it will be easy. In and out”

“I'm not sure it's a good idea, luv” He said and you frowned, sitting on your island in the kitchen, your feet dangling off the edge.

“Y'know I called to warn you I was going, not to ask permission, you ain't my father” You mumbled with the intention to let him hear it, the tone in your voice serious “Just wanted to know if you wanted to come with”

“Nah” He replied, his voice loud and clear over the phone and you make a shocked confused face to yourself. Did he not want to keep you company? “Ya ain't going, it's risky. It looks too easy. Nothin’ with these cunts’ easy” He said firmly and you scoffed in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah, I am, alone or with you, I'm busting into that building” You said just as firmly as he did “You know how I feel about that racist cunt” You cursed. The more time you spent with Butcher, the more you started using his British vocabulary. Cunt was the most common but Bullocks also came with from time to time.

“Of course I know but still, we have to be smart abou’ it” A tip of anger laced his voice. He often got pissed at how stubborn you could be and this was one of those times.

“I'll be in there tonight. Goodbye Butcher” You said and turned off the call, not wanting to hear him going on and on about your ‘recklessness’ as he called it, scoffing and smashing your phone down on the island beside you, running a hand through your head.

You liked when Butcher was caring towards you, it was what made you start catching feelings for the man in the first place, but sometimes he just treated you like a kid, as if you could do nothing without him lecturing you beforehand.

On the other side, Butcher groans angrily as he notices you turned the call off and he throws his phone on the bed. “Fucking ‘ell” He curses to himself as he rubs his temples with his thumb and index fingers.

He knew you wouldn't drop it. You were a force of nature, but impulsive. Sometimes he loved it, sometimes he hated it.

This was time he wished you just listened.

The feeling in his gut that something wasn't right remained for the whole day, his head barely able to focus on anything else as he was too worried. Worried about you.

At about 8pm he was nervously biting on the side of his thumbnail trying to ignore his phone besides him as he told himself over and over he should call you to see if you were fine. The other (minor) side of him telling himself he should drop it. You were strong, you could pull it off and he didn't want to bruise his ego giving in to your stupid idea.

Fuck it.

He checked his phone to see a message from you. The address to said building. He smiled to himself and shook his head. Maybe you weren't so stupid after all.

He grabbed his keys and put on his black trench coat and a gun in the waistband of his jeans.

As he closed the door behind him he rushed to his car, wondering if you were okay or if something happened.

At the thought of you hurt he hurried his feet on the pavement to get faster to his car. To get faster to you.

He drove above the speed limit after he tried calling you 3 times, all going to voicemail. He cursed to himself as he arrived at the building and took in the sight in front of him.

The windows were busted and, as he got in, he could clearly see bullet holes on the walls and his heart started beating faster in his chest. Please be okay, please be alive, I can't lose you too.

He moves through crumbles and remains of the walls, taking his gun in his hand and moving slowly, aware of any danger.

The more he walked without any sight of you, the more worried he got.

As he went down the stairs to the basement he heard a low groan and his eyes widened and his whole body turned towards the noise.

The basement was a complete wreck. Shelves down on the ground, glass and books everywhere.

Then he saw you and his heart sank to his stomach. You were sitting down against the wall, a huge stab wound in your side where your hand was trying to keep pressure, which clearly wasn't enough as he took sight of the amount of blood beneath you and in your hands.

He took a quick look around and rushed to you, kneeling in front of you. He took notice of how pale you looked but still, at least, half conscious.

He held your shoulder with one hand and pressed the other over your wound making you wince in pain. His face was serious, angry. He didn't know if it was at you or at whoever did this to you but he was livid.

“What the fuck did ya do?” He asked through gritted teeth, not expecting an answer but you put your hand over his forearm, the blood staining his coat and smiled. You fucking smiled, that beatiful smile that could make Butcher melt from miles away.

“You came” You said, your voice low and hoarse and then you went into a coughing fit and Butcher held you to his chest.

“Easy, easy Kid” He said as he took a deep breath so as to not get emotional. He took your hand and pressed it over the bloody wound “I'm gonna need ya to keep pressure in this while I get ya out, c'mon”

You nodded weakly and pressed it as hard as you could while his other arm wrapped below your knees and lifted you up, the movement making you hiss.

He carried you out as quickly as possible as he placed you in the backseat of his car as he went to the driver's, turning the vehicle on and sprinting back to his place.

At the feeling of being safe, the adrenaline started wearing down and you were suddenly very tired. Your eyes closed as you felt your consciousness slip away and then you didn't feel anything anymore.

When you woke up again you were laying on a bed that wasn't yours, in a room that wasn't yours. Your head was pounding and breathing hurt and you let out a groan.

As your vision focused, you looked around and took in the place until your eyes caught a glimpse at someone on a chair besides you. Sleeping, with his arms crossed over his chest, was Butcher and you started remembering what happened.

You mindlessly put your hand over the neatly done bandaging in your stomach and looked at Butcher again.

“Butcher” You said, your voice low and weak. The man besides you stirs awake, his eyes opening slowly.

As he notices you're awake he gets up and places a hand on your forehead hurriedly, breathing deeply as if it was a relief seeing your eyes staring back at him.

“You're awake” He said, looking between your eyes.

As you looked back up at him guilt started pooling in your heart and you looked away, you smiled sadly.

“You were right” You mumbled and he pulled his hand away from your face and sighed angrily. He brushed a hand trough his face, his nostrils flaring up.

He didn't say anything, just stared at your bandaged wound, lost in thought, so you continued talking.

“They jumped me, some people that worked for Vought. I knocked some down but one of them caught me. Thay ran away after that, leaving me to die, apparently” You explained, still refusing to look at him “I'm sorry.”

At that, he looked at you again and you looked at him. He was angry and sad, his face gave it all away and you felt small under his stare. Maybe because you were laying down but still, you felt helpless.

“Why didn't ya fuckin’ listen to me” He said, his voice low, apparently calm and that was the most scary of it all. You preferred that he yelled at you, screamed in anger and never looked at you again then to act like this.

“You– I fuckin’ told ya” He said squinting his eyes as a hand goes to nudge at the wound and you grunt as he aplies pressure to it “Look at where your stupidity gotcha”

Tears prickle at the corner of your closed eyes as you grab at his wrist to pull it away from your skin, your own hand covering the bandage protectively as you glare at him. You knew you fucked up but what was going on with him?

“What the fuck Butcher!” You exclaim through your teeth as the pain eases away “I know I should've listened to you, I already said I'm sorry!”

“Sorry don’ cut it!” He finally yells at you, making you shrink as he points a finger at your face. “When I arrived the color on your face was gone! You were basically dead as I carried ya out! There was blood everywhere, Y/N”

He turned his back to you, and sighed loudly. If it was possible, smoke would be coming out of his ears.

You felt your eyes water. He seemed more than angry and you hated that you were the reason that he felt like this.

“How long was I out?” You asked lowly as you forced yourself to sit with your back against the headboard, making a face at the sting in your belly.

“About 52 hours” He replies, his back still turned to you and your eyes widen in shock and look at his back.

His head was down and his hands were both on his own waist.

You nodded even if he couldn't see you, more so to acknowledge it to yourself. As you let the information sink in, Butcher leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He couldn't let you see the tears forming in his eyes as all his thoughts went back to your limp body on his arms and the hours he spent beside the bed, holding your hand and talking to you while you were in your coma. He wanted to hug you, hold you and he couldn't bear the idea of losing you. Not when he hadn't told you anything about what he wanted from you.

How everytime you looked at him with those bright eyes he felt like he could drown in them, how your smile was the reason he got out of bed every morning, how your voice was like a beautiful tune that was hypnotizing. How your lips always provoked his deepest desires to emerge.

Seeing you bleeding broke him apart further then it should've and that scared him. He had sworn to never care for someone this much since the last time he felt this his heart got torn to pieces by Becca.

He shouldn't. He couldn't.

But he also couldn't help that every time you touched him he felt his skin warm up and his heart accelerate.

He pressed his forehead to the shut door and mentally cursed himself over and over again, he didn't know what to do until he saw the handle turn and the door slowly open.

You opened the door, a hand on your waist to ease the pain as you looked at him teary eyed.

He made a confused face with slight worry but then you choked out a sob and threw both of your arms around his neck and started to cry against his shoulder.

Butcher was shocked until his arms eased themselves around your lower back. One hand rubbed up and down as he felt your tears wet his shirt.

“I was– so scared” You admitted, shaking with your sobs and gripping his shirt tightly under your fingers to make sure he wasn't going anywhere. “It was so cold. The only thing that kept me breathing was when…when I looked at my phone and you– you were calling” You sobbed harder after each word, your body trembling.

“When you left voicemails…I was happy because if I…” You swallowed “If I died I would at least hear your voice one last time”

His grip around you tightened and one of his hands went into your hair as he adjusted your head into his chest, his jaw above you as he closed his eyes. He felt a tingle in his heart at your words, a spark of love lighting itself up in bad weather.

“Shh, you're fine now, you're ‘ere, alive, I'm 'ere” He whispered comfortably as you kept crying and he thought of all the things he wanted to tell you.

“And I know I was stupid. That I– That I should've listened but I want her dead, I want Homelander dead and I just–” You choked “I just wanted to have control over something, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry”

He gently swayed both your bodies side to side, a comforting hand rubbing at your scalp. Butcher didn't say anything, just letting you get it all out until your breathing calmed down.

The tears had stopped flowing and now you were just sniffing, your cheeks puffy and your eyes red. He grabbed both sides of your face and pulled you back to look into your eyes, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Feel betta’?” He asked and you nodded slightly and he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking into your beautiful orbs again. “I'm sorry too, luv, I really am”

You opened your mouth to protest but he silenced you before you could speak.

“I shouldn’ have said those things t'ya, I was just– Angry, but not at you” He gently brushed his thumb over your cheek, drying a stubborn tear rolling down your face. “I was angry at myself”

Apparently you made a face at him because he gave you a thin-lipped smile.

“I was angry because I knew you were going anyway an’ I let'ya go alone. If I was there, this wouldn’ have happened”

He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I was scared that I'd neva see ya smile again, see your beautiful eyes look into mine, hear your stunnin' voice” He hugged you again, his hands wrapping you in a warm embrace. He didn't want to let you go in fear this was a dream and he buried his face in the crook of your neck before finishing.

“I was scared I would neva be able to tell ya tha’ I love ya” He mumbles in your neck as his arms tighten around you and a shiver runs through you.

William Butcher loved you.

Your hands grabbed at his shoulders and pushed him back lightly as you looked into his eyes.

Your expression doesn’t give anything away and Butcher starts to feel sick as he thinks he's going to be rejected. He prepares for impact.

Then you smile.

Your smile wide because you feel warm. Warmed by his love. Diferently then the cold night at the building.

Your hands travel up to both sides of his face as you pull him in. You go slowly, waiting to see if he'd pull back but he surprises you with a strong, passionate kiss, making you gasp in surprise.

The world feels small around you as his hands grab at your waist, careful not to hurt you as you pour out every feeling you bottled up through the years in that kiss.

And Butcher was consumed by you, by every single inch of you, by every part of your being. Your voice was a melodic chorus to his ears, your lips a river to which he was drowning in, your body the perfect fit for his.

When you pull away from each other with rushed breaths you're still smiling, your hand caressing his beard covered cheek.

“I love you too” You whisper and Butcher smashes his lips against yours again, making you giggle in surprise.

Now that they had each other it was them against the world. Nothing could tear them apart because they were made for one another, the flames of their souls dancing together in a single rhythm.

They didn't know or didn't feel it but ever since the first time they had locked eyes the destiny made their paths merge into a single one at one point in both their lives. And this was it. Two souls bound, forever.

☆

☆

☆

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing. Feedback makes those writings better. Thank you very much for reading. Xoxo

[hotpocketpena]

Pop Princess

Pedro Pascal x Fem Reader

Summary - you’re a superstar. Having performed on some of the most famous and largest stages in the world, you are in your peak.

You’re a huge Star Wars fan and when you get invited to The Mandalorian Season 1 premier by an old fried, you meet an unexpected man, who you never thought would catch your eye…

Warnings - Swearing & mention of kissing.

Notes- I’ve been throwing this idea around in my head for so long, I just never knew how I’d want it to play out. Well finally I think I made it go in an ok directionnnnn, anyways enjoy😬

Also I apologise for past and future posts for BUTCHERING the beautiful Spanish language😢

———————-

Adrenalin.

A euphoric high, combined from nerves, excitement and thrill. That is how it felt for you every time you picked up the microphone & sang to hundreds, if not thousands of people.

The bass from your music blasting through the huge stadium speakers sends vibrations up and down your body as you dance to the ending of your final song of the night.

“Thank you so much Miami! You have been amazing! Goodnight!” You cheer into the bejewelled black microphone & jump down the disappearing part of the stage.

Your fans still screaming for more as you use the crawl space under the stairs and head to your dressing room to wind down.

“Amazing job tonight killer Queen!”

“Best show of the tour so far!”

“You never fail to amaze us!”

The crew shout as you walk past them. You smile at everyone as you walk into your dressing room, your manager following closely behind.

“Uh, Ben. Can I have just ten minutes to myself before we talk?” You ask, throwing yourself on one of the couches in your dressing room.

Ben, your tour manager of four years sits on the armchair across from you. “I’ll just be brief.” He says.

But it’s never brief.

You roll your eyes and rest your head on the top of the couch, ready to heard whatever Ben has to say about the show. He always has some input on how you can be more energetic or more enthusiastic on stage. And you always tell him the same thing.

“Now that show was brilliant, don’t get me wrong.” His thick British accent makes it really hard to be annoyed with what he says. “But I think you could just be-“

“More energetic sweetheart. You are amazing already but the show needs more sparkle!” you mock him, with a terrible attempt at his accent.

He opens his mouth to speak but closes is quickly. “I do not sound like that.” He whines.

“Well no. But, you do say that to me after every show. And I always give my all when I’m out there.” You say.

He sits in the back of his chair and crosses his arms. “Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like the fans need more. Maybe more fireworks or more dancers or-“

“Ben.” You sternly say his name, knowing where this is going.

“I love you, but you need to get out of my dressing room.” You say as sweetly as possible.

“Fine! If you don’t want to hear about my amazing ideas, then I’ll go and tell them to someone how appreciated them!” He taunts, standing from the chair and swaying his hips to the door.

“I hear Danny from sound looooves your ideas! Go tell him!” You shout, silently thanking the heavens that he’s leaving.

Ben leaves you at peace, and you settle back into the couch, kicking your feet up on the coffee table.

Just as you’re about to sigh, there’s a knock at the door.

“God damn it! Can’t a girl just have five minutes of peace after doing a very long two hour work out while also singing!” You groan, hoping the person behind the door can hear you and will take it as a hint to leave.

“I guess I’ll just leave you to it then princesa del pop.” A beautiful, husky voice shouts from the other side of the door.

It’s a voice you’ve been waiting to hear for 10 days. And you’ve been itching to see the beautiful face behind it.

You jump from the couch, using the last bit of your energy and make a b-line for the door.

“Pedro!” You scream, jumping into his arms. You wrap your legs around his hips and he grips onto the bottom of your thighs.

“Hello baby. Have you missed me?” He chuckles speaking into your hair.

You give him a big squeeze and jump down from his embrace. Your lips crash against his in a hungry but loving kiss.

Your lips move together in sync, releasing all the built up tension of not being able to kiss his sweet lips for so long.

When you break from the kiss, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and takes your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“I only managed to catch the last forty minutes but you were amazing tonight my little superstar.” He says sweetly, his voice like honey.

“I didn’t think you’d be able to make it!”

“Well I had to sneak away from set and get one of the assistants to lie for me to make it, but I’m here.” Pedro plants a quick kiss to your lips.

He takes your hand into his and you both walk into your dressing room. You notice he’s not in his usual casual attire. He has makeup still on from filming and his hair is all messily done.

“Did you-did you literally take of from the Mando set and rush here for me?” You ask with a serious tone.

“I would have been here sooner, but the fuckers make me take the suit off the second the cameras are off and we’re done filming. Normally I head over to wardrobe to take off all the under garments that go under the suit, but I escaped before they could catch me.” He chuckles, dressed in an all black mesh outfit.

You gasp at him. “Yeah because last time you came to one of my shows in the whole fucking suit. And got so drunk that you drank beer out of the helmet. And then threw up in it once you drank all of the beer.” You laughed, sitting next to him on the couch. He pats his knee for you to put your legs up and you do with gratitude.

“And you know that it’s against the Creed that you should never take your helmet off in front of a living being.” You smirk, knowing he hates how much you love the show.

He tuts and rolls his eyes. “My god you need to get a life.”

You chuckled. “The way of the Mandalorian is my life.”

Pedro pondered for a second. “Hang on, we started dating after the premier of the first season of the show right?” He asked, his brows raised while he ran his hand up and down your leg.

“Yeah, why’d you ask?”

“And we’d never met before the premier?”

You had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“Uhhh,” you stuttered. “Yeah I think so.”

“Now correct me if I’m wrong, but before the premiere of the show, I’m pretty sure you didn’t know who I was. And I obviously knew who you were. I’m sure I went to say hi to you, but you just smiled awkwardly and walked away. But right after the showing, I swear you were all over me like a fly on shit.” Pedro’s voice was inquisitive.

He was right.

You got invited to the premier as John knew how much you love Star Wars, and Boba Fett was your favourite character. So when the opportunity to go to The Mandalorian premier, you squealed and cried.

—————

The day of the premiere you were so excited. Taking inspiration from the Mando armour, your designer created the most beautiful 2 piece suit in the colour of the armour.

You knew of Pedro before the premier, having seen a few of his movies, but you’d never met him. On the red carpet, you two did have an awkward encounter. Pedro was the star of the show before you showed up.

As soon as you walked on the carpet, all the cameras and eyes were on you. You’d said that you didn’t want all eyes on you or to take shine away from the amazing people who had worked on the show, so you took a few photos and headed inside where you could mingle with a few people.

Just before the showing, Pedro walked over to you, a clear attraction from his side, having watched you perform at events for many years, he took a serious liking to you.

You thought he was cute, but because you didn’t know him, you just thought of him as a cute guy. He walked over and said hi to you. You gave him a sweet but awkward smile and excused yourself to head to the bathroom.

The show had started and boy was it amazing. As soon as it ended, John and Pedro stood from their seats, giving small nods while looking around at everyone cheering them on.

Pedro looked over to you and gave you a wink. You felt your heart stop and your palms began to sweat.

Is this what love at second sight looks like? You thought taking him all in.

Once everyone had disappeared from the theatre and headed into the bar area, you were on the hunt for him. Wanting to continue the ‘what could have been’ conversation. If only you had taken a few seconds to speak with him before, this would be a lot less awkward.

You take a deep breath in and begin your strut towards him. Luckily, he’s with John, so if things go awkward, you can lean on him to get you out of a sticky situation.

“Hey! Look who it is! We were just talking about you!” John cheers, holding his glass of brown liquid towards you to join him.

Pedro quickly spins to face you and his face turns a blush red. He clears his throat and wipes his sweaty palms on the back of his pants, hoping that it’s not too obvious that he’s nervous.

“Who knew you had such talent in that big ol’ head of yours!” You joke, pulling John in for a hug. He hugs you back, squeezing you just a little too tight.

You let out a joking ouch and break from the hug. You turn your attention to Pedro and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He’s beautiful.

You both look into each others eyes and not a word is spoken. It’s like everyone in the room has just disappeared and only you two remain. You could stay looking into his beautiful chocolate eyes forever.

“Now I want you to meet the star of the show.” John snaps you out of your trance. He moves around the small circle table and throws his arm over Pedro’s shoulder.

“This is Pedro, our very own Din Djarin. The man behind the mask.” John beams, being very proud of Pedro.

“And this lovely lady is-“

Before John could finish, Pedro interrupts.

“We’ve met before.”

You let out a shy laugh averting your eyes from him. He doesn’t take his eyes off you and a smile beams across his face at your laugh.

“I’ve been to a few of her shows actually, she’s brilliant.” He says with adoration.

He’d been to more than a few. At first, Sarah invited him to go, as she also really enjoys your music. He didn’t think anything of it first, but once you got on stage, he was hooked.

Pedro had been to about 20 of your shows over the years, sometimes even going alone just because he wanted to enjoy the shows you put on and admire you from afar. When he found out you were coming tonight, he wanted to shoot his shot.

Usually when celebrities come to your shows, you invite them backstage and hang out with them for a few drinks, discussing the show and other things. Pedro never made himself known, he’d been too nervous to go backstage.

You blushed at his comment. He’d been to a few of your shows? He’s never been backstage? You thought, wondering why he never took the invite, but you brush the thought off.

John rambles on about how the promotion for the show has been going and gets called away by someone, leaving you and Pedro alone at the table.

“So, how did you find the first episode?” He asks, shuffling on his feet.

“It was truly a masterpiece. You were amazing!” You express, trying to keep it cool.

He blushes, taking a step closer to you. “Thank you. It means a lot coming from you. The way you perform on stage is a work of art.”

Wow, your heart flutters

You engage with him in some casual conversation and head to the bar together to grab another drink. You both hit it off.

“So, uh, what are you doing in three days time?” Pedro ask taking a sip from his glass of whiskey.

“I’m performing at the Oscar’s.” You say. “Why’d you ask?”

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink after? I’ve been invited to the Vanity Fair after party, but I can ditch that if you’re free?” He says, the whiskey giving him the courage he needs to ask you out.

“I was going to head to the Vogue after party but, I’d like to have a drink with you.” You blush, your wine helping you in this situation massively.

—————

“Now that I’m actually thinking about it…Did you only come over to me and John because you liked me as Din?!” Pedro gasps, pinching your legs.

You yelp and laugh. “Nooooo, of course not!” You lie. You never wanted to admit to him, but it was true. There was just something about him being the man behind the Baskar that turned you on.

“Oh my god it’s true!” He laughs, quickly standing from the couch.

He stands in front of you with a shocked face and hands on his hips.

“If I never took the job, you never would have gone for that drink with me would you? And you’d be shacked up with someone else who’d be playing Mano!” Pedro tuts, but his tone is jokey, wanting to get a rise out of you.

“Baby, come on. Please don’t make me say it.” You groan, throwing your head back on the couch.

“Say it.” He demands, kneeling down in front of you, placing his hands on your knees to balance himself.

“Fine! I felt more attracted to you as Mando. There!” You admit to defeat, wanting this conversation to be over and done with.

“But! The more I got to know you, the more I loved the man behind the mask. And I do! I love you more and more everyday, so it shouldn’t matter how I became attracted to you in the first place.”

Pedro laughs, patting your knees and playing a kiss on your forehead.

“And I love you princesa del pop. Even if you are a Star Wars loving freak.” He chuckles

“Your Star Wars loving freak.” You say, rolling your eyes at him.”

“Yes, yes you are.” He smiles at you lovingly.

———————-

[naavispider]

Oh my god!!!💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 that ask about Spider calling Quaritch dad was so incredibly heartwarming!!!! Could we possibly get Miles’s POV on this?

Read Spider's POV here 🥰🥰

Quaritch frowned against the familiar eye strain that typing for too long on the holoscreen caused. He closed his eyes and rubbed the haze out of them, trying to refocus. He was so nearly done typing up the day's report. Wording the mission updates was always a tricky task - he was sure Ardmore would be checking them when she had time, continually assessing the effectiveness of not only the mission, but of Spider's participation.

So wording the reports right was crucial.

"Do you want me to finish off?" Wainfleet called, noticing the Colonel's discomfort. "You can proofread before I submit."

"Thanks Lyle," Quaritch murmured gratefully, eager to take him up on the offer. He passed the screen to the squad leader and stood up with a sigh, looking around the deck to see where Spider had got to.

There, sitting at the bow. His silhouette was barely visible against the brightness of the setting sun, and surrounded by the warm glow, he looked more like a boy than ever. Feeling bubbled in Quaritch's chest again - that old, familiar feeling that only Spider could cause. Damn that kid, he was probably taking years off Quaritch's lifespan.

Wanting a break from being Colonel, he made his way towards where Spider was sitting, and slowly sat beside the boy. Spider didn't look at him as he threw his legs over the side of the ship and leant back on his hands. He was staring straight ahead, admiring the glorious sunset.

"Not thinking too hard are we?" Sometimes Quaritch worried that the more Spider retreated into his pensive phases, the more certain the kid would become that Quaritch was an evil person after all. Of course, he would never voice that fear - not to anyone, even Wainfleet.

"Hmm," came the reply. Spider was nodding, but Quaritch could tell he didn't really care for the conversation. A great start, then.

"You did good today, kid," he persevered. It was true. Spider had held it together remarkably well, and Quaritch had to admit that every time Spider spoke Na'vi so fluently, it was very impressive.

"I'm honoured," Spider replied flatly.

This kid.

"Just trying to be nice," Quaritch countered, though he repressed a laugh. Of course Spider couldn't take praise.

Spider looked at him then, perhaps unsure why Quaritch was amused. He looked quizzical, his brows knitted together. Quaritch paused for a moment, taking in his son's naivety. The feelings in his chest multiplied. He hated when they did that, goddamnit. It was just so... endearing how Spider got confused whenever someone said a kind word to him. Quaritch just added that to the growing list of reasons to hate Jake Sully.

"Thanks, I guess." Spider looked away, staring back out to sea.

Quaritch looked closer. Was the kid blushing? Jesus, he should compliment him more often. "You've gotta teach me more Na'vi sometime."

Spider seemed to consider this, and Quaritch waited patiently for an answer. He knew Spider loved teaching Na'vi. It made the kid feel useful. Plus, Quaritch liked listening to him when he spoke in the strange sounds. It was kind of fascinating.

"Maybe." Spider paused. "But your accent's crap."

Ha! Alright kid. "Well, that just proves I need more practice then, doesn't it?" He was grinning, because Spider was grinning, and Quaritch couldn't give a shit about the insult. It had been too long since he'd seen the kid smile. "How do you say 'thanks'?"

Spider rolled his eyes at the sea. "Irayo."

The word sounded perfectly formed, rounded and accentuated in a way Quaritch knew he was about to butcher. "Well. Irayo, Spider."

That pulled another reluctant grin from the kid. Quaritch could see him trying to conceal it, but he couldn't fight it for long. Spider looked back at the sea to hide his enjoyment, and said in another flawless string of syllables, "Nìprrte."

Whatever that meant, Quaritch didn't care. He'd either just been insulted (again) or the kid was saying 'you're welcome'. Both were okay with him. Besides, insults were Spider's love language.

Quaritch decided to try his luck, and shuffled closer to Spider by a few inches. When the kid didn't react, he thought he'd really try it, since Spider was in such a good mood. He threw his arm over Spider's shoulders.

If Spider found it heavy or uncomfortable, he didn't show it. After a moment, Quaritch could feel him relax into the touch. There were those cursed feelings again. Sometimes he felt like he could burst with the strain of keeping them contained. Surely his body wasn't meant for this much emotion? He needed to get checked out at some point tomorrow by the ship's medic. It would be just his luck after all this to find out that Spider had actually caused him to have a heart problem.

They sat like that for a quarter of an hour, watching the sun go down beyond the horizon. At some point, Spider's head began resting against Quaritch's side. Woah. Quaritch looked down at his son fondly, curious. It was hard to tell from this angle, but he thought Spider's eyes were closed. He was falling asleep.

Quaritch never wanted this moment to end. The mission could wait, the squad could wait, Jake Sully could wait. The world would have to stop spinning if Spider was asleep against his side. Quaritch would make it.

The scraping noise of metal and engines sounding behind them told him that the crew were beginning to close up the top deck for the night. Dusk had fallen in earnest now, and Quaritch could sense the squad behind him restless for dinner. He sighed. It wasn't within his power to stop the world spinning after all.

"Come on," he forced himself to say. "Dinner. Let's not have you falling asleep on me here."

Spider sat up sleepily as Quaritch roused him.

"Thanks da-"

... Uh.

Quaritch froze. Had he heard correctly? Judging by Spider's furious blush, he had.

But he couldn't have.

Spider had been about to call him...

No. He couldn't even say it.

Dad.

What did that word even mean? It wasn't one Quaritch was familiar with. Perhaps it was a Na'vi word that Spider was trying to say.

He stared at the kid as Spider turned quickly away, also seeming to freeze as he fixed his eyes on a point below the waves.

Holy shit.

Suddenly, Spider hastened to get up, retreating away back to the squad without a word. Quaritch had half a mind to stop him - but he couldn't find his voice. He just stared hopelessly after him. Spider disappeared inside the airlock and Quaritch was left alone.

He returned his gaze to the horizon. When had he become breathless? When had his body become so heavy? He pulled in cool breaths as he let the half spoken word sink in. Spider had stopped himself just in time, but now Quaritch was sure what he had intended. Dad.

The word felt alien. Quaritch couldn't get over it. Yesterday, it was just a word. Dad. People had dads. Everyone had a dad. Now? It was like he'd never heard of it before - the concept was forever changed. He choked a gasp as he realised that for the first time in his cursed existence - whatever that may be - that he had someone in his life who relied on him as a father.

He had thought of Spider as his son for a while now. He was, after all - if in a roundabout sort of way. That hadn't changed. But he never expected Spider to return the feeling... Especially after all Quaritch was putting him through.

It was impossible.

And yet, here it was, right in front of him. The undeniable fact that he had crossed that line, no coming back. Spider viewed him as dad.

What now?

[the-fear]

hiiiii :3

i read tags on that post you reblogged for me and i agree that its most likely that kayne is nyarlathotep since it'd pretty much align with cthulhu mythos - it often takes human form to walk the earth and it's character is pretty similar to kayne's. It also acts with seemingly no particular goal again just like kayne! and i can't really think of any other gods in cthulhu mythos that would fit him so well

also I'd love to hear more about that theory of yours ^_^!!!!!!

Aw thanks for asking about this! :D

{Putting this under a cut because this is a lot of information. It’s pretty condensed but still quite long}

Please take in mind that this theory only just popped into my head when I read the post, so this has more holes in it than Emmental cheese.

I was thinking on the fact that Harlan’s post mentioned explicitly that Kayne’s identity will be addressed in season 4, and I was wondering what other things have been added to the podcast this season. Most notably are the characters (Oscar, the Butcher, Daniel, etc. - Noel is a Very Close Contender for being Kayne for me), but we’ve also had some other things at least slightly confirmed. Probably one of the most important things that have been confirmed it the time dilation.

I seem to remember that there were quite a lot of theories around time loops and similar phenomena (I think a few were on @ty-betteridge’s blog but I can’t find the posts for some reason). With Scratch’s apparent ability to live longer in dreams than in the real world, eldritch time dilation is basically canon, as far as we know. This could further open the door to other time-related shenanigans, including time loops, to be canon as well.

It’s also been mentioned in the time loop posts that John could in fact be a future Arthur (I may have got this wrong because it’s been a long time since I caught up on the theories). I personally don’t see that (I don’t know how that would fit in with the KIY stuff) but I do really think there’s going to be some stuff involving timeloops and Arthur and John.

Anyway, enough of that ramble! Let’s get back to the important part: who is Kayne?

I 100% believe Kayne is Nyarlathotep - or at least one version of him. Maybe not the one directly from the Lovecraft source material, but definitely an entity that shares the same role as him in the story. Especially with the common description of Nyarlathotep as “joyous”, and we can defintely say that Kayne is enjoying himself with Arthur’s story.

I say that Kayne may not be entirely based on Lovecraft’s Nyarlathotep, because that entity is described as an Outer God, and this theory hinges on the fact that Kayne’s origin is something much closer to home.

So what are some things that we know for sure about Kayne / Nyarlathotep?

From Lovecraft’s source material: his description tends to be of a “tall, swarthy man” but it’s often noted that he can shapeshift.

From the podcast: he has no canon appearance apart from wearing a black suit (and other details), as described by John in part 20. He is also noted to be playing piano in his first appearance.

He also has an Extreme interest in Arthur’s life, as far as to having “watched [Arthur’s] life unfold”. He wants to find out what’s “different” about Arthur compared to other people.

So here’s my theory:

Kayne is Arthur (+ John) from the future.

If you’re thinking that’s a slightly far fetched, I agree! There are several problems with this theory that I need to iron out. I’m replying to this ask because I hope other people can add to this theory, correct me on things that I got wrong, share some more stuff about Nyarlathotep, etc.

One question with this theory is that surely John would recognise Kayne if he looked like Arthur? Well, that’s already got an answer - Kayne can shapeshift, so probably changed his appearance to throw John off his scent. That might also explain the difference in accent between Arthur and Kayne: Future Arthur!Kayne is trying to be incognito, he doesn’t want Arthur and John to find out who he is.

Another question is why is Arthur!Kayne doing this? The motive I think Arthur!Kayne has is pretty evident: he wants to find out what makes him different, what allowed him to become Kayne. We’ve already been told that Arthur is different to most people in that he can hold a piece of the King in Yellow in his mind without succumbing to their will (compared to Marie’s sister, who was taken over completely by Mr Scratch, and the people who did not survive John’s book). Perhaps this difference allowed Arthur to become Kayne (remember that Kayne discusses hearing voices too, perhaps in a similar manner to John + Yellow in Arthur’s mind). Maybe what sets Arthur on the path to becoming Kayne is… accumulating other parts of Gods? Mr Scratch maybe - Arthur might be strong enough to keep charge of his body and Scratch just lives in his mind like Yellow did (if his plans with the stone go badly).

[elvisabutler]

could i possibly request more gun kink pls? 🙏🙏🙏

red brass

summary: elvis loves you or at least likes you. elvis learns things on the road. elvis likes to have the girl he likes try the new things he thinks he'll like with him. you allow it. fandom: elvis presley | elvis 2022 pairing: elvis presley x female reader rating: m word count: 3408 just i don't know what happens. i don't know why i write 3k gun kink fics. warnings: gun kink. use of a gun in penetrative ways. guns. implied masturbation ( m ). implied future oral ( f ). technically defined as masturbation or maybe fucking ( f ). dubious, and i mean very dubious consent. 50s era elvis being a little shit. infidelity ( elvis to the reader ). southern accents being mildly butchered. faintly erring toward a sub elvis, while also somehow being a dom elvis, it's nebulous honestly. me implying that texans love their guns a lil' too much. use of nicknames ( honey, darlin', baby. ) and 'vis. no use of y/n. i think that might be everything? author's note: hi anon, i know who you are and i love you. i hope you enjoy this fic that essentially is a prequel-ish, a spiritual prequel to gunmetal. and me basically going, i guess i'm gonna write 50s elvis with a gun kink. generally speaking i don't even know what has come over me with this, i'm just gonna take y'all along for a ride. watch me inevitably write army e or hollywood e with gun kink.

You know you can find a better guy, or at least you think you can, because there's something that makes men- little boys want to prove themselves after they find out you're with Elvis Presley. You're fairly certain that you could at least find a guy who would be there more often than Elvis is, you could find a guy who could take you out on regular dates and could eat dinner with your parents and- maybe even get married to you sooner rather than later. The problem is, you're never quite sure you want to find that guy, never quite certain if that sort of guy would be better than Elvis. For all Elvis is a selfish young man— the kind who will take take take from his girlfriends as much as he gives gives gives- he's also a good man. He's a better man than half the boys who sniff around you, the little hound dogs as you and Elvis like to call them. So it's always a whispered "honey, ya ain't gonna leave me are ya? gonna be comin' home soon and we'll have some fun. gonna show those dogs who they'd be fightin' wit' for ya."

Your friends think you're being silly, waiting on Elvis, thinking he's remaining faithful to you while on the road. Your mama thinks the same thing and god help you even Miss Gladys agrees. She loves her son, she does, but she knows- oh she knows how he's been calling her less and less and knows that can't mean a single good thing. Can't mean anything good for anyone involved. But when her little boy calls you or calls her he's always reassuring you both that the girls don't mean nothin'. He's jus' lonely and he can't take he can't take the love of his life or his mama wit' him so sometimes- sometimes there's a girl in the hotel. June says you shouldn't forgive him when he admits it the first time but you've never been like June, never been as strong as June is and maybe— maybe that's why Elvis liked you so much. You're not June but you're just close enough that he can still have her with the parts that don't fit his life removed. Selfish, but he's never claimed to be a saint, hell no one's ever claimed he's a saint.

The thing is- you've gotten used to him talking to you over the phone about things that don't always happen. Sometimes it's just about his dreams, about his plans for what he's gonna do the second he sees you. Sometimes it's plans for how he's gonna take you out on the next tour, he doesn't care how it looks, he misses ya widdle pussy and everyone already knows he's got a girl, it won't matter seeing ya on the tour. You're expecting tonight to be just the same, another night of promises he can't keep even though he'll be home tomorrow night for at least a week or two. Tonight, though, tonight, he surprises you.

"Baby? Ya- Whatcha got planned for tomorrow? Nothin' fancy right?" He murmurs into the phone, his breath hitching in a way you know doesn't mean anything good.

You hum softly, shifting in your bed a little. "Planned on jus' lettin' ya go home to ya parents, honey, why?"

"Wanna- Ya gonna think I'm crazy but wanna try somethin' wit' ya tomorrow night. Think you'll like it." He sounds excitable in a way that means you're gonna regret telling him no if you do. He'll every bit of the young man he is, the yittle boy who wants so much and now that he's got a taste of people saying yes, yes, yes, he doesn't necessarily want to hear no on something he truly wants. "Ya gonna say yes, ain't ya?"

A sigh leaves your lips as you debate with yourself, debate if you can chance saying no before settling on the a yes that's filled with such trepidation you worry he'll still want to argue with you. "'Course I am, darlin'. Tell me, 'Vis, whatcha plannin' on doin' wit' me. Gonna take me somewhere and have us play there? We gonna have fun in the car?"

The tone you manage is light and playful— or at least as close to it as you can manage before you hear Elvis's laugh. It's a laugh you've never heard from him and one that worries you. It sounds a little demonic if you were being perfectly honest, but you trust Elvis for the most part. He loves you and wouldn't purposefully hurt you and maybe it's just a mean idea. One he shouldn't be asking you but he's going to because he knows you're better than all those girls on the road.

"Ya ever played wit' ya daddy's guns, darlin'? Ever felt the metal on ya? It's cold on ya skin, ya know." He muses, like he's put it on his skin and a rush of jealousy rears its ugly head at the idea that maybe just maybe some other girl has gotten to see this. Or maybe he's done this to another girl. You almost miss his next words. "Bet it'd make your chest- make those pretty nipples of your stand right up. Be beggin' for me to suck on 'em."

Your pussy clenches at his words and you can't help how your breath catches. "You'd- I've never— What are ya sayin', Elvis Presley?"

Almost his full name because you're so taken aback by what he's saying. You're imagining this or he's playing a joke on you, trying to get some sort of rise with you. He wouldn't dream of saying this and honestly meaning it. Let alone telling you over the phone like this, it's almost as if he's warnin' you about this but— why? Why would he want to warn you about something like this.

"Honey, I— down here in Texas they— their girls are wild, ya know? Thought it was jus' the women but no it's girls your age too, ya know? Somethin' 'bout this air that makes 'em do things I ain't ever seen another girl do. And I was talkin' to someone 'bout the gun he had on his holster, prettiest thing I ever did see other than you, darlin'. Told me 'bout how his girlfriend— or maybe it was his fiancée played wit' it." Elvis's voice sounds simultaneously like he's nervous to bring this up to you while also taking on this certain element of delight. Certain pleasure in telling you about this person. "Inside of her."

"Inside of— Now I know you aren't— You mean inside her—" You cough, because you are not some wilting little girl. You are Elvis Presley's girlfriend and you can be a big girl about this. "You mean she put it inside of her vagina?" The last word is whispered almost as if you're scared your parents are going to hear or if it'll make it more real to say it out loud.

Elvis chuckles softly, more of a huff of a laugh than anything else before he responds back with any words. "She did. He said he watched her and said she— She liked it. Told 'im it was even better than when he fucked her."

The image of Elvis pumping his gun in and out of you like he would his cock has you dropping the phone for a second in pure shock. The way you can feel your arousal starting to pool between your legs has you biting your lips and shifting in your bed, your thighs gliding together as your breathing changes just slightly. You know Elvis can tell from how he growls into the phone. He may be a dumb yittle boy sometimes but he knows you just as well as you know him now. "You don't really want me to do that when you get home, do you 'Vis?"

"I think ya wanna do it for me, honey. Think if I was there I'd see ya looking like a damn cricket, sliding your legs together. Just one time, baby? One time and if we don't like it, I ain't ever gonna bring it up again. For me? For us?" He sounds so small when he asks, but you know better, it's him trying to charm you, trying to seem all innocent when you both know he hasn't been innocent since the first time he went on tour or the first time a girl batted her eyelashes and said hello.

Your only response is a simple okay before you move onto better topics. Less arousing topics.

Your parents are used to Elvis whisking you away for any number of things so when he comes home the next night, they don't bat an eyelash at him taking you with him to Graceland with promises about how you'll be in another room and his mama won't let him do anything untoward to you. Nevermind that when Miss Gladys sees you it's for the briefest of moments as her son whisks you up the stairs and has you pinned against the door, hands roaming every inch of your skin threatening to set it on fire as he kisses your lips and your neck. He's needy tonight and you don't know if it's because of what you promised him or if he missed you just that much. You feel a hard mass near his leg and you can't help but wonder if it's his cock or the gun because you haven't seen a holster or anything that shows off a gun. Despite your better judgment when he pulls away and you are nuzzling at his nose you give him a nervous grin and whisper a joke.

"That your gun, 'Vis? Or are ya jus' happy to see lil ole me?" A laugh escapes his lips at the same time one escapes yours before he moves to try and pull down your skirts.

"Lil' of both, honey," he practically coos at you when your skirt comes down and you're standing there in your half unbuttoned shirt and your underwear. "Wanna see ya naked for this. Get the full effect."

You bite your lip, your nervousness finally fully peeking through. It's not as if you've never been naked with Elvis, it's not as if he's never seen you completely laid bare underneath him or above him but this is different. Something about this makes you feel raw and exposed like a live wire. A shiver escapes you as Elvis tilts his head just a little bit. 

“Don’t— Ain’t nothin’ we haven’t shown each other, baby. I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Gonna make ya feel good. Gonna have ya feeling the hot and cold’s what they said,” his hands ghost over your waist before he slides his hands under your shirt to pull it off of you, kissing along the skin he’s exposing bit by bit. “Ya wanna take off my clothes, honey? That gonna make ya feel better? Give ya somethin’ to settle the shakes ya got like ya had the first time we did it in the Cadillac?”

Your hand clenches into a fist before you nod, moving to undo his belt with a speed that embarrasses you a little bit until you hear him laughing softly above you. He finds it endearing, your eagerness or your nervousness and somehow that settles something in you, makes this seem less terrifying. Elvis may have asked you something that’s a mighty strange request but he’s still your Elvis. He wouldn’t hurt you, not intentionally. It doesn’t take too long before you manage to get him out of all his clothes, watching as his muscles twitch under your touch and how the moment you step out of your undergarments his cock twitches so violently in the confines of his underwear he hisses when he gets to pull them off, cursing at his foreskin. The gun is sitting on the bed and you stare at it as Elvis moves behind you cupping your breasts and kissing along your neck slowly, trying to settle you like a scared animal. 

“It ain’t loaded, honey, just— this one time, ‘member? We jus’ gonna try it, see if those Texans know somethin’ we don’t.” His voice is low enough to be crooning at you and you feel your body lean up against him, relax up against him. “You get to do it, baby. Just, do what ya want with the gun.”

It takes you a minute or maybe five of just relaxing against him to get up the nerve to crawl on his bed and prop yourself on his pillows.The gun feels heavy in your hand but you’re pretty sure you’re just imagining it as you let the metal touch your neck— your overheated neck— and whimper at the coolness of it. Elvis settles himself at the end of the bed, eyes watching how your nipples are already pebbling before the gun even touches them. You let your legs fall open to give him a better view and you hear a grunt that has you looking up at your boyfriend’s lower lip between his teeth.

“Already gettin’ shiny down there. Glowin’ in the moonlight, darlin’. Wanna- Gonna taste all that later, if ya don’t leave it all over the bed.”

You clench around nothing at the words and Elvis reaches out to touch you before you shake your head, “no, wanna— you wanna see me play wit’ this. Wanna see me play wit’ this like they did. No- You don’t get to touch.” 

The funny thing is, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Elvis react as quick as he does in that moment. You don’t think you’ve ever seen your boyfriend respond to something you’ve told him to do as quick as he does in that exact moment. His hand goes directly to his own lap as he nods, whining just a little as he does and you have to bite back the soft giggle that threatens to escape you. The gun though, the sharp coolness of the metal helps you, helps distract you from giggling even if as the gun glides across your nipple you cry out almost in agony. Elvis had been right, they were practically begging to be sucked, to be warmed by his tongue and his mouth. Anything would be better than the bite of the metal, the brush of the barrel against them. Elvis doesn’t make a move though, you had told him not to touch and he was being good even as his hand strayed to his cock, playing with it, his thumb brushing over the tip as he pulled his foreskin back. 

Focusing on him made things worse and somehow better, made you wish you had told him he could touch, made you wish he would was moving the gun himself but he told you this was your call, you were in control of what happened with the gun. Small whimpers leave your lips as you try and keep your legs open, practically trying to grind on the air as you slide the gun down down down your torso. You stop just shy of your vagina, your hand shaking a little before you hear Elvis’s voice.

“Ya— Ya good, darlin’?” His question is asked a little shakily but it makes you realize you aren’t the only nervous one here, or maybe he’s just so turned on he can’t speak straight. It doesn’t matter, you don’t think, not with how it calms you just so. “Ya want my help? Want me to hold it for ya?”

“Please?” Your answer comes out rushed and so quiet that you feel the rush and heat of embarrassment as you shiver from it. You want to do this, but it’s not something you’ve ever done and it’s new. For both of you, you hope. Elvis moves closer to you, deciding that sitting next to you might be the best position for this so he can watch and still help you. You move to take your hand off the gun, thinking he wants complete control before he links your fingers together and places both your hands on the gun. You’re still in control with just a little help from him. 

You take your hand that’s not on the gun and use it you spread yourself open, making sure there’s enough of a glide from your arousal- a forgone conclusion you think- to help with the gun brushing against your cunt— your vagina— your whatever the two of you want to call it. As your fingers start to play with your clit you feel the brush of the metal finally sliding down and against your clit. A groan leaves your lips as you grind down automatically, craving something to finally give you some proper friction. It’s cold but it doesn’t have the same bite as it did against your nipples, no it’s almost as if the burning heat that keeps growing between your legs offsets it, allows the gun to be heated quicker than it ever would be outside of you. Elvis’s lips brush against the shell of your ear. “Ya ready baby? Ready to take it inside?”

A hum is all you can manage, too anxious and excited all at once to trust anything other than a whimper to leave your mouth if you open it. Elvis knows you though, knows you like the back of his hand or like his guitar and he pushes the gun inside you, slowly but surely, watching the barrel disappear in between your legs as you practically keen at the sensation. It’s the metal contrasting with your skin, with your arousal with everything. It feels like it shouldn’t be up there while feeling less filling than Elvis ever has been. You rock a little against it as part of it brushes against your clit or maybe that’s just yours and Elvis’s hands. At some point you shut your eyes, not because you didn’t want to watch, but because the sensation feels better when you don’t see it, it keeps you grounded in a way having your eyes open doesn’t. Elvis’s voice seems so far away even as you rock against the gun. Had this been what the women were talking about? Did they feel like this too? Powerful and yet stripped bare knowing what was between their legs sliding in and out of their most private parts? 

“Christ they weren’t lyin’ ya look fuckin’. Gonna hafta help me wit’ what’s ‘tween my legs, honey. Wanna taste ya after this- wanna have ya all night. Missed ya and now ya doin’ this? Fuckin’ perfect for me. Best girl I coulda asked for. Ya gonna— Ya hear how ya sound?” His words are slurred against your ear and you do hear yourself, hear how the gun squelches and squishes between your folds and you whine, your head turning trying to bury your head into Elvis’s shoulder even if it should be impossible. Your brain and your heart and your ears register him shushing you, telling you he’s gotcha, telling you how he wants to see you come like this and that does it. You clench around the barrel and a soundless scream leaves your mouth as your orgasm rips through you and leaves you shaking and twitching against Elvis. There’s a warmth next to your leg and you open your eyes to see Elvis’s own release against your leg as he flushes under your gaze. 

Almost as if he wants to distract you he starts to pull the gun out and you shut your eyes at the sensation before opening them back up again when you hear the pop of it being pulled completely out of you. It takes you and Elvis a few minutes after he tosses the gun to the side before you speak. 

“Can’t do that again tonight.” But perhaps another night, your mind thinks as you move to play with Elvis’s cock.

His hand moves to swat your hand away as he slinks down the bed and puts himself at eye level with your vagina. “Don’t want ya to,” he pauses, licking his lips as you allow your legs to fall open just a hair. “Gonna taste ya though. See if ya taste any different.”

You don't.

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Acquainted (18+)

Pairing: Model!Urban x Photographer!Reader

Words: 2,301

Warnings: Contains explicit content, please DNI if under 18

“Here’s your pass. The designer asks that you don’t bother the models, in fact don’t even look them in the eye, they don’t like that.” The press coordinator stopped in her tracks and looked behind her to see that you were no longer in step with her. “Keep up, please!” Your new boss was giving you the rundown backstage at the Prada SS’24 show, and you were having trouble staying behind her.

You had stumbled about 10 feet back, dropping your camera bag, all of your lenses and cleaning equipment falling out onto the floor. You saw a manicured hand reach down to pick up one of your lenses, the hand connected to a tall, muscular model with piercing blue eyes. Remembering your training, you avoided eye contact. “Thank you.” You rushed off to catch up with your boss.

“Are you going to be trouble for me, Y/N? I don’t need trouble today.” You shook your head fervently, pulling out your camera to prove you were ready for this job. “Look, I wouldn’t even have given you this job if your dad wasn’t a photography legend, so don’t press your luck.” You nodded in appreciation, rolling your eyes as soon as you were sure she had turned away. She wasn’t wrong, you were a nepo baby in your own right, your father teaching you how to take pictures at a very young age and then dragging you through the ranks, from freelance to head photographer for Paris Fashion Week. You knew you were lucky to be here, but you also had a chip on your shoulder because you knew you were good, and you didn’t think you had to work so hard to prove yourself. “We need behind the scenes shots for Vogue, so work the room and gets some closeups of the models in hair and makeup.” You were given your instructions before the coordinator ran off to take care of other responsibilities.

You walked around the hair and makeup stations, taking as many shots as you could before the show started. As you walked to the end of the room, you recognized the same guy who had helped clean up your mess earlier. His blonde hair was tied back in a sleek low bun so you could see his strong, rounded features. You walked up to him, your camera covering most of your face so he couldn’t see that you were blushing.

“Hey.” He spoke first, his accent surprisingly American, and you thought you could pick up on a southern twang. “Oh, sorry. I was told not to bother the models, I’m just trying to get some pictures.”

“Wait, are you American?” You nodded, letting your camera hang from your neck strap. “Yeah, I’m from LA.” He let out a sigh of relief, a smile creeping on his face as he ran his hand against his beard. “Thank God, I was really beginning to think I wouldn’t see anyone else from the states here. My manager handed me a plane ticket, saying I was going to Paris, even though I’ve never taken above a high school French 1 class.”

“I’m sure you’re making it just fine.” You gave him a sincere smile. “I’ve eaten nothing but croissants the last couple of days because I don’t know how to order anything past “Une croissant, sil vous plait.” You laughed at the painfully American accent butchering the French words. “I’m Y/N.”

“Urban.”

“Well Urban, if you ever get a chance to venture around Paris, let me know, and I’ll be sure to show you how to properly order food. You’re missing out on some amazing French cuisine.” He smiled, opening his mouth to say something when the models were all called to line up for the show. “Another time, then.” Before he stood up, you snapped a picture of his face. If you never saw him again, at least you had something to remember him by.

****

As the music began blaring in the speakers, you made your way to the front of the stage. The models began walking down the runway in time with the beat of the music, their movements rigid. You took pictures of everything around you, not sure what the magazines would find usable. “Ow!” You turned behind you to see that you had stepped on the foot of some B-list celebrity. “Watch where you’re walking, bitch!” You ignored her cries for attention as you worked around the stage.

As you saw Urban coming down the runway, your heart started to race. He was definitely in his element tearing down the runway, his demeanor more serious and reserved then the person you met backstage. He made eye contact with you immediately, his eyes softening. Not wanting to mess him up, you gave him nothing but a small smile, but that was enough to catch his attention. As he made his way to the end of the runway, he looked directly into your camera and bit at his lip, pulling his plump bottom lip between his teeth. You gulped, knowing that was just for you, in a room of at least 100 other people. He gave you a wink before he turned to walk back to the start. You don’t even remember if you took pictures the rest of the night, your mind only on Urban.

****

After the show, you were backstage packing up your equipment when Urban approached you again. The room was pretty much empty, most of the models having to rush to their next show across town. “You looked good out there.” You looked up from your bag. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? You were the model.” “No, I meant what I said. It had nothing to do with your camera.” You felt the heat radiating from your cheeks.

“I’m headed to a party tonight, would you like to come?”

“It depends, was that move on the runway for me?” You gave him a cocked eyebrow, but he just returned with the same confident smile. “I guess I’ll see you tonight then”, replied Urban before he walked away, leaving you stunned.

****

“We need to make a stop before we head to the party, okay?” Urban confessed when he picked you up from your apartment. You just nodded, letting him lead the way. After about a quick 10-minute walk, you came upon an underground party. You had heard rumors about these events before, but at seeing it in person, it kind of looked like a high school party you would go to back in California. Just a bunch of people standing around and talking, smoking weed and drinking. The same stench of cheap Vodka lingered in the air, making you gag from the déjà vu. “You okay?” Urban laughed when he saw your nauseated face. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just having flashbacks to high school.”

“God, I’m so glad I met you, Y/N. Nobody here would know what I was talking back if a mentioned a ‘kickback’, but you do!” You could tell he had been drinking, his volume a bit too loud. “I’ll be right back.” He nodded at someone standing against one of the walls. After a couple of minutes, he returned to where you were standing, holding out a half finished blunt. You took it, taking a couple of drags before you handed it back. “So how did you end up in Paris?” You let out a cough before answering. “My dad, he’s French actually. I grew up in Paris until I was 12 and then I went to go live with my mom in Los Angeles. She’s American.”

“Divorced parents fuckin’ sucks.” You nodded, letting out a curt laugh. “Yeah, they do. But it actually was kind of fun. I spent the school year in the states, and summers in Paris. All of my friends were jealous.”

“How did you get into modeling?” You reached out for the blunt again, Urban allowing you to take a puff from his hand. “You probably won’t believe this, but I was backpacking in Madrid one summer after high school, and I was discovered at a train station. Got signed that day and have been working ever since.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t believe that. That sounds like the plot to a kidnapping movie.”

“You’re funny.” Urban waived his blunt at you.

“I’m a lot of other things too.” You could tell the weed had finally hit because you were feeling uncharacteristically bold. Urban’s eyes immediately filled with lust, his gaze going straight to your chest.

He was going to be fucking you before the night was over.

You felt scrutinized under his gaze, your core beginning to clench. “We should get going if we want to go to that party.”

****

The party you were attending was at a hotel in the Oberkampf district. You both started the long elevator to the penthouse in silence, each taking refuge on either side of the large car. The silence was making you uncomfortable, so you decided to make the first move.

“How long have you been modeling?” You asked the empty space between you and Urban, refusing to make eye contact with him. You heard him chuckle, a sharp breath leaving his mouth. You finally gained the courage to turn to him, leaning your back against the cold metal panels. You weren’t expecting him to be looking at you, his cerulean blue eyes filled with desire.  “I’m not interested in small talk”, he edged out between pursed lips, his gaze sizing you up. For the first time you were able to take him out breathtakingly beautiful he was, his blue eyes the least seductive thing about him. You allowed your eyes to close, your core tightening at the thought of running your hands through his blonde locks and his broad shoulders towering over you as he thrusts into your aching cunt. You had seconds to let your vision adjust to the sight of Urban inches from your face, your chests rising and falling in unison.

“Do you trust me?” He was testing to see how far you were willing to go. You nodded, leaning into him further.  

“Completely.”

Testing the waters, he pulled you in for a gentle kiss, his strong hands had a light grip around your neck. You broke for a second before you leaned back into him, crashing lips again. You let out a small moan into his mouth when he pinned you to the elevator walls with his pelvis. You could feel him start to slip his hand up your dress, bunching the fabric around your waist, the cold metal stinging against your bare ass. He grinned when he realized you weren’t wearing any panties. “What did you think was going to happen tonight?” You kissed him again, this time harder, hoping he got his answer. Without letting you go, he reached over to the elevator panel and hit the Emergency Stop button with his fist. A blaring alarm sound pierced your ears.

“Veuillez rester calme. Les autorités ont été alertées de votre emplacement et arriveront dans environ trois minutes. (Please remain calm. Authorities have been alerted to your location and will arrive in approximately three minutes.).

“What are you doing? The police are on there way.” You looked at Urban like he was crazy. “How much time do we have?” He looked between you and the blinking panel. “I don’t know, like two and a half minutes?”

“You better cum fast then.”

Before you could object, Urban dropped to his knees, lifting your leg to rest on his shoulder. He immediately latched onto your clit, applying sucking pressure to your sensitive bud. “Oh fuck!” was all you could utter out as you lost your breath. You immediately felt your core start to flex as your orgasm started in your lower stomach. You raked your fingers through his hair, grabbing a bunch in your hands as he moved to swirling the tip of his tongue around your clit, flicking it every couple of seconds. “Don’t stop, Urban.” You were ignoring the automated message by this point, the ringing in your ears drowing out all sound. “You’re so fuckin’ wet. Is this all for me? You’re such a good girl for me, Y/N.” You didn’t even bother answering; both of you knew it was all for him. “I need more.” Urban quickly obliged, running two of his fingers between your folds before slipping them into your entrance. You could feel your knees start to weaken, Urban grabbing onto your thigh when he saw them begin to shake. “That feels so good, Urban. Don’t stop.” He quickened the pace of his fingers, still latched onto your clit when he felt you begin to clench around his hand. Within seconds you were releasing around his fingers, your wetness hitting the metal floor with a splash. Your pussy continued to pulsate, your core seizing as he licked you clean. Every touch with his tongue only extended your orgasm, the sensation too much. “Please, stop. I need a break.”

“Just in time.” Urban pulled your dress down, the sound of a police force coming down the hallway audible within the elevator. You barely had time to adjust yourself when the elevator doors opened.

“Is everything okay, Monsieur?” the cop asked, surveying the room. “Of course, just a stuck elevator.” Urban couldn’t help but chuckle. You slapped his arm, a smile forming on your own face. “The station reported weird noises coming from the elevator car. Do you have any idea what that could have been?”

“No.” You both answered too quickly. “You know these elevators, they have to be at least 100 years old, right.” Urban smacked against the wall, the creaking confirming his lie. “Goodnight, gentlemen.” Urban grabbed your hand, rushing out of the elevator.

[artemisthewh0re]

Hi! saw you asking for blurb prompts.. could you do prompts 12 and 14 for Kit Walker please? Thank you sm :)

A/n: of course ❤️. I think I butchered his accent but I hope you like it!

Prompts: 12. "I'm so very in love with you." and 14. Combing their fingers through the other's hair.

...

Kit's head laid across your legs, his chocolate brown locs smoothly flowing in between your fingers. He was having his nightly after sex cigarette despite your annoyance with smoking in bed.

"Come on babe, it's not like I'm fallin' asleep with it," he'd whine.

"But you could!" you'd reply knowing it wasn't going to get through that thick skull of his. You knew if you ever had kids they'd be just as hot-headed as him. God help us all.

You look down at him, noticing the cute beauty mark on the tip of his nose and his slightly chubby cheeks. Kit looks up at your pondering face.

"What?" he asks.

"I'm so in love with you," you respond, leaning over to kiss him on his now cigarette free lips. Kit smiles into the kiss.

"I'm so in love with you too sweetheart," he says, his dimples turn you into putty as you continue to absentmindedly run your finger through his hair.