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chrchofsuicidal · 5 months

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!!!: threesome, video taping, oral sex (male/fem receiving), fingering, praise/deg, creampie

the three of you wanted to do something different for once, trying to up your sex game as if it weren't kinky enough. with dave mustaine and james hetfield, how vanilla could it really be?

you were fully naked, laid across the blonde as dave watched james play with you. your ass was exposed to him, slapping at the skin, seeing it turn a bright red as you jumped and let out a whine from pain and pleasure.

"awe, you liked that?" james put on a fake sympathetic voice, "you like davey being all rough with you?" he chuckled when you nodded.

dave took the hint, him having the camera up to your face, making james hold it since he was closer.

the ginger spread your legs apart before shoving two of his calloused fingers inside your pretty pussy. you were already wet for the two of them, only turning him on more.

he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, wet, slick sounds coming from in between your legs.

"oh, there we go, baby.." dave hummed, grabbing you by your hair, forcing your head back roughly before picking up his speed.

"who's this perfect little pussy belong to? hm?" he growled, slapping your cunt in the middle of your response which only made you whine and bite your lip from anticipation.

"better answer that fuckin' question, darlin'. dave asked you a question, baby. speak up and use your big girl words for us," james spoke, grabbing your chin so you would look at him.

your eyes were all over the place, not knowing who or where to look at, so you just made eye contact with the camera lense.

"y- you two!"

your voice was soft, before dave started rubbing your throbbing clit slowly.

"that's the right answer, baby." his speed quickened again before he looked at james.

"suck jamie off while you relax on my tongue. how about that?" he stated, lifting your hips up so that your ass was in his face, lips attaching to your juicy cunt.

james couldn't pull down his jeans fast enough, him holding it for you as you kissed the tip making him shudder. he was already leaking, smothering your puffy lips with his precum before shoving it in.

you couldn't help but close your legs around dave's head and trap him there, trying to focus on both of the things happening.

"atta girl.. taking us so well, ain't ya? so pretty when your full." james huffed, tangling his hand in your hair, guiding your head up and down.

all you could do was lay there and look pretty, looking up at jame's, moaning around his cock making him moan. dave was slurping and groaning into your pussy like a starved man who couldn't get enough.

"your mouths so warm- feels so good. gonna cum-" james moaned out, pulling out before he pumped his hand up and down up to your face, aiming at your lips but of course it decided to paint your whole face.

he quickly wiped the fluid off of your face, sticking his fingers inside of your mouth to taste him.

"such a good girl for us, doll. did davey make the pretty girl cum yet?" he asked, the same voice from before coming to action.

you shook your head, pouting before dave lifted his head. lips, chin, and nose covered in your fluids.

"no?" james gave a fake pout, rubbing your cheek. "well cmere and we'll make sure you're doing it again and again, sweetheart."

your positions flipped, you on your back, while the other two were standing infront of you, pants down, ready to be inside of you.

two of them rubbed their lengths against your folds, using your slick as lube. soon enough, shoving the entirety or eachother inside of your pussy. your gummy walls sucking and tightening around them the moment they entered.

"fuck!"

the two of them hissed in unison, james throwing his head back as dave held one of your legs up, wrapping it around his waist.

"taking us so well-" he huffed, leaning down to kiss and suck at your neck. "gonna make me cum too, princess."

the pace they had was slow and rough, tears pricking your eyes as they stretched you out to the max.

"pl- please! i wanna cum-"

you pleaded, holding the both of their forearms, nails digging into their skin.

"mm? don't gotta ask, sweetheart. go on-" james panted, close to his second high and so was dave. their tips twitching against eachother made them lose it, immediately spilling inside of you as you squirted and came along with them.

"oh! oh- ohhh" was all that came put of your mouth, eyes squeezing shut as your legs started shaking violently, the two pulling out to see their seed spill like a waterfall.

"fucking hell..." dave mumbled, zooming in on your flooded pussy.

you kept squirming trying to call down from your high as the camera stopped recording, the two grabbing either side of your cheek and showered your face with kisses.

james pet your hair and dave kissed down your body.

"didn't go to hard, right? felt good?" james asked and you nodded, you head still fuzzy from what just happened.

"let's go get cleaned up then, hun." dave picked you up bridal style, kissing your face all the way up the stairs to the bathroom as james followed from behind.

- - - - - - -

SORRY I GOT LAZY W THIS ONE IM SO TIRED.... also please send in reqs! id love to write whatever you have on your mind :3

#megadeth #metallica #dave mustaine #james hetfield #dave mustaine x reader #james hetfield x reader #smut #ns/fw #fanfic

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tkdrawz · 10 months

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Some of the TMNT fandom (and, frankly, society) really ain't shit.🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️

[From left to right: Princess Fiona (Ogress Form) (Shrek) Eep (The Croods) Gloria (Madagascar) Dijonay Jones (The Proud Family) Luisa Madrigal (Encanto) April O'Neil (TMNT Mutant Mayhem)]

These ladies are female protagonists in their respective franchises. All of them have different body types that contrast from the default thin, petite body type that we're used to seeing. And all of them are BEAUTIFUL! 💖

Three of these ladies became love interests that ended up in healthy relationships with partners who love them for who they are. Also, four of them are women of color. (idk if Fiona counts. While she is green, she started off white so... 50/50? 🤷🏾‍♀️) That part is especially relevant to this post because Twitter got me EFFED UP. I'M ON ONE, ON TWO, ON THREE TODAY!

So the concept art of Mutant Mayhem's April O'Neil was revealed by James A. Castillo, an artist who worked on the movie.

And people are DRAGGING HIM LEFT AND RIGHT! Being disrespectful to both him and April's design. I can tell you right now not even a third of those quotes aren't positive! There is a vast difference between criticism and insults:

💛"I do not like this design. Besides the color yellow and her red/ginger hair, she simply doesn't read as April O'Neil." That's criticism. This expresses disproval of the design without any vulgarities.

💔"Rethink your entire career. "Artist" my ass! This shit is garbage! She looks like she sleeps in a van and smokes so much weed she reeks of it. You failed." That's disrespect. And I don't think I need to tell you why.

Normally, I tend not to discuss such sensitive topics on my blog (religion, politics, discrimination of ANY kind, etc.) for my sanity and out of respect for others with opposing views. But today, I will make an exception.

I would love to include Luisa, who alongside April was mocked and disrespected heavily for her appearance, but I wanted to speak on this matter from the perspective of a plus-sized African American woman. Luisa comes from an completely different background whose culture and standards I am not entirely familiar with. I can't speak on what I don't know. Respectfully.💜

In the black community, women are faced with colorism, texturism, constant comparison, and body image negativity on a daily basis. And a good amount of it comes from our own community! Our shade, our 4C hair, our weight, our attractiveness, our lifestyle! It's brutal out here!😭😭😭

However, in terms of media a plus-sized black girl is seen as ghetto, loud, and undesirable with a side of attitude. The best example I can think of is Dijonay from The Proud Family.

This is the show I grew up on! The theme song, the characters, the Suga Mama, ICONIC! I love Dijonay to pieces, but as I grew up I realize that she was, in some aspects, a negative portrayal. She was always chasing instead of being "the chase". She was a horrible friend to Penny. And she sucumbed to a lot of negative stereotypes with barely any redeeming qualities. And this was very disheartening considering that she was the darkest one in the group. And the heaviest. And as a little chubby wubby in the 2000s with THIS as my representation? I have to give the writers a bit of the side eye. Was she any better in The Proud Family: Louder and Prouder? To that I would say.... meh. I love her in the reboot, but they could do so much more with her in my opinion. I still haven't seen them address the issue of colorism. 👀

While she is not a human, Gloria is voiced by a black woman (Jada Pinkett Smith) and imitates the sass of a black woman so... yeah. She's included. Gloria was persued by two men. One was the suave, flexing hippo Motto Motto. And the other was her friend/neighbor from her childhood Melman. She chose the latter for good reason of course. Now in Madagascar, Gloria wasn't mocked or criticized for her weight. In fact, hippos are known for their weight. However, she was seemingly fetishized for it. By Motto Motto to be exact. And being fetishized is NOT better than being ridiculed.

Unlike Dijonay, April was the chase, a love interest for Leonardo. I admit, I was SHOCKED that she was gonna be persued. Let alone that the writers wanted to try another Turtle/April pairing considering how April and Donnie went...😬. Now her backlash was on a completely different level. One that I wasn't even prepared for....

While Gloria and Dijonay are original characters, Mutant Mayhem's April O'Neil is a different interpretation of the character that has existed since the 80's. The same can be said for the Turtles, Splinter, literally everybody else! Every show and movie for that matter! And with every story, she changes. Design, motivation, relationships/dynamics, even race as of lately. All of it changes. And change isn't bad. In my opinion, it keeps things fresh and interesting instead of spoon feeding us the same story and concepts over and over again. Change challenges us. Change motivates us. However, some people don't like change nor want to accept it and adjust. And that's life. That's just the way it is. But change is necessary in order to progress.

She wasn't bad in the movie AT ALL. I absolutely adored her! And the dynamic between her and Leo wasn't akward or uncomfortable at all. It was handled really well. Ayo Ediberi did an incredible job bringing her to life! (GOD, I loved her in The Bear! Shameless plug lol)

That being said, I understand some of the sensitivity that fans have when a character changes so drastically you can barely recongnize them anymore beyond the bare minimun. (See also Sonic Boom's Knuckles) But the blatant discrimination, rude comments, and the boldness, THE AUDACITY, that some of these nasty Twitter fingers with their dirty fingernails have to type such disrespect to the artist that I can't repeat up here was wild af. Like, I can't believe we have to share a planet with some of them! Uggh!😷(But that's Twitter 24/7 so what's new?) Her and Rise April don't deserve the hate they get. You don't have to like them. Art is subjective. But to insult and harrass the artists and the people who look like the characters, then mask it under the umbrella of "tHaTs mY oPiNiOn" is 🐱. I said what I said. And I will say that shit again.

Also, just because she's black doesn't mean we can't have another white April O'Neil ever again. We know goodness well they could make another iteration of TMNT and make her white if they wanted to. Heck, I encourage them to explore other races and cultures too! New York is full of them! And it's not like all the other versions of April up and vanished. You can watch them anytime on Hulu, Netflix, Paramount Plus, etc.

One more point I'd like to make is that I am an African American woman who is currently on a weight loss journey. As a plus-sized girl, I had incredibly low self-esteem and picked up toxic, unhealthy eating habits from starving myself to overeating BECAUSE I starved myself. Also, I have experienced both sides from being disrespected and made fun of to being complimented and persued. I was at my biggest weight 2 years ago and I have made incredible progress to lose weight since then. People can lose weight. It is achievable! I went to school with some people who were way bigger than me that lost the weight by senior year! Just because she's big in this movie doesn't mean she can't lose weight by the sequel. Like I've said before, it's not wrong to encourage health and fitness!💪🏾 In life, they call this a glow up. A "remember how you treated them in high school" type of comeback. People can, and are allowed to, change. And it's not wrong to embrace your body and the skin you're in. It's all relative!💖

This post isn't to convince you to change your mind. And it won't make the bullies go away. I can't change the world overnight, nor am I trying to. At the end of the day, you're the consumer. It's your choice. Your prefrence. I can't tell you how to think.

I just wanted to spread a bit of awareness that plus sized people exist. And they will always exist. Everyone is deserving of representation in media in all facets. No matter their shape, size, shade, or sexuality. There are so many people from different walks of life who deserve to be seen and on screen. And the amount of visibility for black girls this year alone is amazing! And I want the same for other women of color, too!

Don't let this trash ass society and the people in it who prefer AI/robots over human beings, fake over real, and bad over good tell you otherwise. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. YES I AM TALKING TO YOU. YOU ARE AMAZING! YOU DESERVE ALL THE GOOD THINGS IN LIFE AND MORE. YOUR STORY CAN CHANGE LIVES. BEING A GOOD, HARD WORKING PERSON DOES PAY OFF IN THE LONG RUN! YOU ABSOLUTELY MATTER IN THIS LIFE AND THE NEXT. WE SEE YOU. I SEE YOU. AND I ADORE YOU. RAISE YOUR SELF ESTEEM, ADJUST YOUR CROWN, WEAR IT PROUD, AND DO YOUR BEST!

Be good to one another. Take care.

💙 -TK

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your-nanas-house · 4 months

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Please can I request Jerome Valeska with a reader who runs? Like it takes up most of her life pretty much. Thank you🙏

Sure! Not sure if I got it right, though. 🥹🙇🏼‍♀️

Running

◇ Pairing: Jerome Valeska X fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: fluff, creepy Jerome, runner reader, date

◇ Summary: Jerome asks the girl he sees at the park out.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Credits to the owners of the pics. Also sorry it's kind of short. 🙇🏼‍♀️

"Ya sure are a fast little thing, aren't ya?" A low raspy voice spoke beside Y/n as she kept running her usual path, headphones on.

It wasn't unusual that someone tried to chat with her or make her stop running... it was Gotham after all and most people had a reason to try and approach you— mostly bad reasons, though.

"Did ya hear me, doll?" the voice spoke again, now getting bit closer, followed by deep heavy breaths and a gloved hand that snatched her headphones off her head.

"Way better now.. why ya running?" he asked, making her now look in his direction to attempt and take her property back.

Her eyes scanning the man who was trying to run next to her... his ginger hair being messy and his skin a bit pale if she ignored the scars which decorated it. It was clear that he wasn't someone who run every day even though he was keeping his chin up and chest out to act cool.

"Just routine, I guess" Y/n replied not even knowing why. It really was a bad idea doing small talk with strangers in that city... even if she already met that man.

The young woman never talked to him, she just passed by a couple of times and reciprocated his smile politely... never stopping her training.

"Sounds boring, sugarplum" the ginger commented, rubbing his cold nose while continuing to try and keep her pace "Could we go slower... little ol' me ain't the same as he used to be" he commented with a throaty laugh.

His gloved hand grabbing her sweatshirt to make sure she would get slower and not run away from him.

"So.. what's ya name, dolly?" the stranger asked with a smirk on his face, his hazel eyes traveling along her body... admiring silently

"'M Jerome" he added after she didn't replied.

His gaze was quite intense and confusing, since his eyes were big and round.. looking quite innocent and puppy like while the glimpse in his pupils was almost scary.

"Y/n" she murmured, glancing back towards him, not really wanting to keep talking but just continue running on her own.

That man looked like trouble and she really wasn't trying to get into any... expecially not the level of troubles she could get there.

"Ya free tonight? We should go eat something together" Jerome commented smoothly, his smirk becoming bigger when she stopped suddenly; her eyes remained on his body as she thought quickly at a solution to get ride of him.

"8pm at the diner down the street and you let me continue on my own" she quickly proposed, reaching out for her headphones in an attempt to get them back. Receiving just a weird hand kiss from him and a pull that made her body hit his well built body.

"Deal, doll... see ya later then" the man rasped out, placing a bit wet kiss on her cheek before positioning the headphones back on her so that she could run away.

Leaving him on his own there, even if she felt his lunatic stare on her all the way back to her house.

It was a date then.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @monkeyking-and-liuer-mate , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter

#gotham #gotham tv #gotham x reader #jerome valeska #jerome valeska x you #jerome valeska x reader #jerome x reader #gotham jerome #jerome imagine #jerome valeska imagines #jerome valeska x y/n #yandere jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska fluff

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galacticwarpedlense · 6 months

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Serious Question (not really) ConcernedApe...

Why did you make the gingers so attractive?? Both looks and story wise.

Like we got Penny, girl gets SLEPT ON! She is so nice and sweet and she's got that underdog-like angst that I adore. Girl goes through the trauma of her father abandoning her, her mother's alcoholism and she's still a sweet person and not bitter. She teaches the local kids for free just because there is no school in Pelican Town but she thinks they need an education. She is honestly so cute and it's a damn shame I don't hear her talked about more.

Then there's Leah which, depending on your crowd, she's either loved or slept on. And I get the love. Struggling artist. I am an artist with a mom that is trying her damnest to make me change my mind on my career so I already relate to her. But then she also has one of those controlling partners that she openly defies to pursue her dreams. I love that for her. Yassssss girl! Show your agency!

And then, there's Elliott. Do I need to say more? Have you seen my blog?? I am a simp. He's a fancy writer man with big dreams that he also had to sacrifice a lot to get and while he's not as open about his family or issues, you can tell that there's more. He's passionate and while he's very distant from reality, he's kind-hearted and self-aware enough to acknowledge his mistakes if someone makes him aware of his mistakes. Am I bias? Absolutely! And I'm proud.

And I mean there's also Robin but I actually like Demetrius so I ain't salty that she's married. Plus they made the girl with the CUTEST personality and design. Don't @ me, I am a Maru simp as well and you will never pry that opinion from my cold, dead hands.

#sdv #stardew #stardew valley #sdv elliott #stardew elliott #stardew valley elliott #sdv penny #stardew penny #stardew valley penny #sdv leah #stardew leah #stardew valley leah #Warning! Opinions

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from-memphis-with-love · 2 months

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Songbird - Ch. 2 - Echoes of Stardust

Summary: After a disheartening audition failure, Valerie Pedretti finds herself in a Las Vegas bar, nursing her first-ever alcoholic drink and wallowing in self-pity. The night takes an unexpected turn when she's noticed by Elvis Presley's right-hand man and whisked away to a private party hosted by the man himself.

Word count: ~4,000 Warnings: Alcohol consumption, implied infidelity, mild sexual content.

I slumped onto a crimson velvet barstool, elbows thudding against the lucite armrests. After that disastrous audition for Frank Sinatra's chorus line, all I wanted was to crawl into the nearest hole and disappear. Figures I'd royally screw up my one shot at making it big. Typical Valerie luck.

The bartender, a suave older gentleman in a crisp white jacket, glided over. "What'll it be, miss?"

"Gin and tonic. Make it a double," I muttered, massaging my throbbing temples. What was I even saying? I never so much as drank a lick of alcohol in my life, but I figured it was as good a time as any to start. God knows I needed something stiff to dull the sting of rejection.

As he busied himself, I replayed the audition in my head. My usually reliable pipes had been shakier than a newborn foal, and I'd flubbed the steps. The smirks from the other hopefuls had said it all–I was way out of my league. Some nobody from Chicago, trying to rub elbows with seasoned Vegas performers? I must've been out of my mind.

The clink of glass snapped me out of my reverie. I snatched up the drink and took a hefty swig, wincing at the biting fizz. Awful. But at least the hotel bar had booze heavy enough to give me a buzz, even if this trip was turning into a spectacular failure.

I was about to take another sip when a shock of ginger hair caught my eye across the room. It couldn't be… but there was no mistaking that towering build. Red, Elvis Presley's right-hand man himself, larger than life and heading straight towards me.

"Well I'll be damned," he boomed. "If it ain't that pretty little songbird from the elevator."

I nearly spewed my drink. He remembered me? More importantly, he remembered that ludicrous pet name Elvis had bestowed upon me?

"Uh, hi there," I stammered. "Fancy seeing you again."

Red just chuckled. "You clean up real nice. Mr. Burrows know you're here drowning those sorrows all by your lonesome?"

My cheeks flushed at the mention of him. Truth be told, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about our electric encounter. The velvety timbre of his voice, the scorching intensity of his gaze, the way his presence made the air hum... it was enough to make a girl go weak in the knees. But I sure as hell wasn't about to admit that to Red.

"Oh, I'm sure he has more important things to worry about than little old me," I said breezily. "I was just about to call it a night."

"That so?" Red's grin turned sly. "Well, it just so happens the boss is having a little private soirée up in his suite right about now. What do you say we head up there and turn that frown upside down?"

My heart seized. An invitation to Elvis's inner sanctum? It was an unbelievable stroke of luck. Or a supremely bad idea. Probably both. I gnawed my lip, trying to quell the dizzying swirl of anticipation and trepidation.

On one hand, the chance to spend more time basking in Elvis's orbit was tempting as all get-out. I could feel that dangerous pull, the siren song of his star power luring me in. But on the other hand, the man was married and a known womanizer—the last thing I needed was to get tangled up in that mess, no matter how electrifying his smile.

Red cocked a brow at my dithering. "Clock's ticking, honey. You in or out?"

Oh, what the hell. Throwing caution to the wind had always been a specialty of mine, and it wasn't like this night could get worse. I tossed back my drink and wobbled to my feet.

"Lead the way, Red. Let's see what the fuss is about."

His smirk said he'd sniffed out my burgeoning fascination with his boss, but I lifted my chin and sailed past. The die was cast, for better or worse. I was about to enter the point of no return.

The journey to Elvis's suite passed in a blur of nerves and Red's idle chitchat. I was only half-listening, too busy trying to calm the riot of butterflies in my stomach. What was I thinking, waltzing into Elvis's suite like some groupie? This was bound to end in disaster.

But it was too late to turn back. Red was already rapping on a mahogany door. I sucked in a breath, bracing myself for whatever lay on the other side.

The door swung open to reveal none other than Elvis himself, a vision with tousled midnight hair. His full lips curved into a heart-stopping smile when his molten gaze landed on me, sending a shiver of awareness skittering down my spine.

"Well well well," he drawled, his voice dark honey and sin. "Looks like Red went and rescued a little lost songbird."

I fought the urge to swoon right then and there, mentally cataloguing all the reasons why getting involved with Elvis was a terrible idea—starting with the wedding band gleaming on his finger.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Burrows," I somehow managed to say without squeaking. "I hope I'm not intruding."

He chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense, sweetheart. Any friend of Red's is a friend of mine. Come on in and make yourself at home."

He stepped back to allow me entry, his burning gaze never leaving my face. I could feel it like a physical caress as I crossed the threshold into the opulent suite, my skin prickling with goosebumps. Oh, I was in trouble all right. The kind of trouble a good girl had no business inviting.

The suite was unlike anything I'd ever seen—a palatial sprawl of crushed velvet and gleaming marble, dotted with larger-than-life portraits of religious iconography and pastorals. The irony of a bible placed in full view on a sideboard was not lost on my in the face of such decadence. Every bit of the place screamed “decorated by a rock star.” It was like stepping into a shrine to all the things Elvis loved. And the man himself was holding court right in the center of it all.

Elvis reclined on a throne-like armchair, looking every inch the royal in tight black slacks and a shimmering silk shirt unbuttoned to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of tanned chest, gleaming gold pendant trapped in a thicket of black chest hair. I gulped. A tumbler of amber liquid dangled from his elegant fingers as he nodded along to something a stunning blonde was cooing in his ear, her ample curves poured into a dress so short it was practically indecent.

I suddenly felt very small and very out of place, a sparrow amongst preening peacocks. What was a nobody like me doing in a place like this, rubbing elbows with music royalty? I didn't belong here. I was just about to mumble my excuses and bolt when another bombshell sidled up to Elvis, this one a sultry brunette with bedroom eyes and a dress slit up to there. With detached amusement, I decided to name her Colette. Colette the Brunette.

"Oh Elvis," she purred, trailing a perfectly manicured nail down his chest. "Won't you take me for a ride on your big... Cadillac later?"

I wanted to gag at her obviousness, but Elvis just chuckled indulgently. Like an emperor amused by his concubines.

"We'll see, darlin'. We'll see," he drawled, shooting her a wink that had her practically panting.

I tore my gaze away, my cheeks burning. Get a grip, Valerie, he's clearly in high demand. Time to face facts and get out while you have a shred of dignity left.

I was about to do that when a raspy voice caught my attention. "Hey there, little lady. You look like you could use a drink."

I turned to find a member of Elvis's Memphis Mafia grinning at me, a drink extended in offering. He had a friendly face, all dimples, and I found myself taking it just to have something to do with my hands.

"Uh, thanks," I mumbled, taking a fortifying sip. Whoo boy, that packed a punch. "I'm Valerie."

"Sonny West," he introduced himself with a wink. "Couldn't help but notice you looking a little lost over here. First time in the lion's den?"

"That obvious, huh?" I cracked a rueful smile. "I feel like a kid playing dress-up at the grown-ups' party."

Sonny chuckled, clapping me on the shoulder with a hand the size of a dinner plate. "Stick with me, then. I'll show you the ropes."

And just like that, I found myself swept up in the whirlwind of Elvis's inner circle. Sonny introduced me to the rest of the Memphis Mafia—Jerry, Lamar, and on and on until my head was spinning with names and faces. They were a rowdy bunch, all loud laughter and inside jokes, but they welcomed me heartily.

Before I knew it, I was deep in a heated debate with Lamar about the merits of biscuits versus pancakes for breakfast.

"Biscuits, hands down," I argued, waving my drink for emphasis. "Fluffy, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth heaven. Pancakes are just flat, boring discs."

"Blasphemy!" Lamar clutched his heart in mock outrage. His ample gut wiggled from the sudden movement. "Pancakes are the pinnacle of breakfast perfection. Stackable, customizable, drenched in syrup...what more could you want?"

"Y'all are both wrong," Jerry chimed in with a sly grin. "Waffles are where it's at. All those perfect little syrup traps? Unbeatable."

We dissolved into bickering, and I found myself having more fun than I'd had in ages. These boys were a hoot, and their easy camaraderie was infectious. For a little while, I could almost forget I was way out of my depth.

But reality came crashing back in the form of Elvis's chuckle cutting through the chatter. I looked over to see him still holding court, the blonde I named Miss Priss on one knee, Colette the Brunette draped over the other. They fawned all over him, batting lashes, and he ate it up with that slow smile. Something bitter twisted in my gut.

I knocked back my drink in one painful swallow. What was I doing here? Elvis had more than enough adoring females—he didn't need some starry-eyed idiot mooning over him. It was time to cut my losses and bow out. At least I would have a hell of a juicy story to tell Deena when I got home.

I was just about to make my excuses when the room hushed. I glanced up to find myself ensnared by devastating blue eyes. Elvis was coming right for me, his gaze hot and intent, and I felt pinned like a butterfly on a board.

"Valerie." Just my name, but the way he said it, all dark velvet and honeyed sin, made my knees turn to water. "C'mere, pretty girl. Let's you and me get better acquainted." Colette the Brunette sighed, exasperated, and got up from the chair.

I was moving before I even registered it, pulled in by the sheer magnetism of him. Miss Priss shot me poisonous glares as I approached, but Elvis never took his eyes off me. He crooked a finger, beckoning me closer, and I went as if in a trance, powerless to resist the siren song of his voice, his eyes, his everything. I’m fucked.

"Hi," I breathed when I was finally standing before him, close enough to catch the spicy-sweet scent of his cologne mingling with the citrusy notes of his Brylcreem. God, he was even more breathtaking up close, all chiseled features and smoldering charisma.

"Hi yourself." Elvis smiled slow as he looked me over, his gaze lingering in all the right places. "You know, I was hoping I'd see you again."

I briefly wondered if he said that to every starstruck girl he encountered, but the intensity in his eyes made me want to believe it. Dangerous, Valerie. Remember the ring on his finger. Do not fall for those honeyed words and bedroom eyes.Easier said than done.

He patted the space beside him. "Take a load off. Stay awhile."

I had a feeling he wasn't just talking about sitting. That look promised something far more intimate. A shiver traced my spine as I perched on the edge of the sofa, close but not touching.

"I don't usually do this," I blurted, my nerves getting the better of me. "Follow strange men to their suites. I'm not...that kind of girl."

Great, announce to everyone that you're out of your depth. Elvis would probably pat me on the head and send me on my way now.

But to my shock, his eyes softened with something almost like tenderness. "I know you're not, honey. Believe me, I know." He reached out, tucking a curl behind my ear with a gentleness that stole my breath.

I fought the urge to lean into his touch like a flower turning its face to the sun, desperate for more of that drugging warmth. "You don't even know me."

"Maybe not." Elvis's fingers drifted down, trailing along the racing pulse in my throat. "But I'd sure like to."

I'd been warned about men like him, all smooth words and smoldering eyes, tempting good girls to stray from the straight and narrow. But sitting there with his burning gaze consuming me whole, his fingertips branding my skin, I was powerless to resist the pull. Is this what I'd been missing this whole time?

I was Alice, tumbling headfirst down the rabbit hole. Pandora, unable to keep from opening that forbidden box. A fool blinded by stardust, sealing her fate with one trembling breath.

"I think," I whispered, damning myself with every word, "I'd like that too."

Elvis's smile was pure sin and satisfaction, a fallen angel getting exactly what he wanted. He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear and making me shiver.

"Then let's get to know each other real well, Valerie. I have a feeling you and me are gonna make some beautiful music together."

With that promise shimmering between us, Elvis took my hand and led me deeper into his lair. And I, god help me, followed, come what may.

He guided me through the throng, his hand warm around mine. I could feel the weight of curious stares following us. But Elvis paid them no mind, his attention fixed on me as he brought us to a gleaming black piano.

"You play?" he asked, eyes glinting with challenge and something softer.

I ran my fingers along the smooth keys. "A little. My dad taught me before he passed."

Elvis's gaze gentled, understanding passing between us. "Music's in your blood. Like me."

He slid onto the bench, patting the space beside him. I hesitated a moment before joining him, our thighs pressing together. Elvis shot me a grin, his fingers flying over the keys in a jaunty tune.

"You know 'Heart and Soul'?"

A laugh bubbled out of me. "Who doesn't?"

We began to play, our hands moving together, the notes weaving in harmony. Softly at first, barely audible under the chatter, Elvis began to sing, his voice honey-smooth.

"Heart and soul, I fell in love with you..."

He glanced at me expectantly, a playful smile at the corner of his mouth. How could I resist? Taking a breath, I joined my voice with his.

"Heart and soul, the way a fool would do..."

Our voices blended together seamlessly. I could feel the room hushing around us, all eyes drawn to the spectacle. But lost in the melody and Elvis's presence, I couldn't bring myself to care.

We continued, the lyrics taking on new meaning as our gazes locked and the air grew thick.

"Madly... Because you held me tight..."

Elvis's eyes burned into mine, his voice lowering intimately.

"And stole a kiss in the night..."

My heart stuttered and my fingers faltered. Lord, the way he looked at me, like he wanted to devour me whole...

Elvis turned to me, our hands stilling. For a suspended moment we just stared, caught in the gravity of this thing spiraling between us. I felt flayed open, exposed, like he could see straight into me.

Carefully, he lifted a hand to brush my cheek, his skin igniting sparks against mine. "Valerie," he murmured, my name a caress.

I couldn't breathe past the band constricting my chest. The world narrowed to just us, charged with possibility. Elvis's eyes dropped to my parted lips, a muscle ticking in his jaw. I could feel the force of his desire, the effort it took to hold back.

"Elvis," I whispered, leaning closer like a moth to flame. Damn the consequences.

Colette suddenly appeared at Elvis's other side, plunking her glass down on the piano. She placed a manicured hand on his arm and attempted to draw his attention.

"Elvis, baby, I'm parched. Won't you fix me a drink?" she cooed, batting her lashes.

For a second I thought he might actually take the bait. I wouldn't blame any man for it, really. But to my shock, Elvis just smiled politely and gently extricated himself from her grasp.

"Not right now, darlin'. I'm a bit busy at the moment," he said, shooting a meaningful look my way.

Colette's pretty face twisted in an ugly scowl as she glared daggers at me. If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under. But Elvis paid her no mind, already turning back to me with an apologetic quirk of his lips.

A thrill shot through me at the realization that he'd chosen my company over hers. That even surrounded by all these gorgeous, willing women, it was still me he wanted to talk to, to sing with. It was almost too heady to believe.

Leaning closer as if conspiring, Elvis murmured so only I could hear, "I gotta say, you sure know how to captivate a man's attention, songbird. Ain't too many gals out there who can tear me away from a pretty face batting her lashes my way."

I could practically hear the steam coming out of Colette's ears as she flounced off in a huff. I bit back a smile. "Well, what can I say? I have many hidden talents."

"That you do. That you most certainly do." Elvis's eyes smoldered as they raked over me appreciatively. "Now where were we?"

We picked up right where we'd left off, fingers dancing over the keys in tandem as we slipped back into the easy flow of the music. And just like that, as if no interruption had occurred, we were once again lost in our own private world, the chemistry between us crackling and undeniable.

As Elvis and I continued to play, lost in our own little world, I suddenly caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. Glancing over, I spotted Red and Sonny, engaged in what appeared to be a heated argument.

Sonny was gesticulating wildly, his drink sloshing precariously in his hand, while Red stood with his arms crossed, shaking his head emphatically. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but their body language screamed "agitated."

I nudged Elvis gently with my elbow, nodding towards the pair. "Looks like trouble in paradise over there. What do you think they're arguing about?"

Elvis followed my gaze, a slow grin spreading over his face as he took in the scene. "Knowing those two? Could be anything. Whose turn it is to do the hamburger run, which one of 'em Nancy Sinatra liked best, who'd win in a fight between Godzilla and King Kong..."

I bit back a laugh. "My money's on Godzilla. Fire breath beats brute strength any day."

"See, I'd have to go with Kong," Elvis countered, his eyes sparkling. "He's got those opposable thumbs, that's a game changer."

We both turned back to watch Red and Sonny, who were now poking each other in the chest like a couple of overgrown schoolboys. Elvis leaned in close, his breath tickling my ear as he lowered his voice conspiratorially.

"Five bucks says Sonny throws his drink in the next minute."

I grinned, unable to resist the challenge in his tone. "You're on. I say Red puts him in a headlock first."

We shook on it, our hands lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary. Then we sat in eager anticipation, watching the drama unfold.

Suddenly, in a move straight out of a slapstick comedy, Sonny gestured so emphatically that his drink went flying... right into Red's face.

For a moment, everyone froze. Then Red let out a roar and lunged, grappling Sonny into a headlock as he flailed and sputtered.

Elvis and I took one look at each other and burst into hysterical laughter, clutching at each other as we gasped for breath. Tears streamed down my face as we hooted at the ridiculous scene, our shared mirth drawing curious glances from the rest of the party.

"I guess... we both win... that bet," Elvis managed to wheeze out between guffaws, his arm warm and solid around my shaking shoulders.

A throat clearing sharply behind us shattered the moment, sending us reeling apart like repelling magnets. I blinked dazedly, surfacing from the undertow of Elvis's gaze to find Lamar smirking down at us.

"Hate to interrupt you two, but the natives are getting restless." He jerked his head toward the crowd of partygoers, all watching us with avid, speculative eyes. "Big Man’s here, E." Kirk Kerkorian, the owner of the International Hotel, had made it up to the 29th floor to speak to his star headliner.

Elvis dragged a hand down his face, looking distinctly frustrated. "Duty calls, I suppose." He shot me an apologetic glance, his fingers giving mine a fleeting squeeze before he stood. "Don't go anywhere, alright? I'm not done with you yet."

A shiver chased through me at the dark promise in his tone. I could only nod wordlessly, my voice lodged somewhere in my throat, as he allowed himself to be pulled back into the fray.

I watched him work the room, all megawatt charisma and effortless star power. He was a master showman, born for the spotlight. At a certain point, a group of older women were let in and he graciously signed all of their memorabilia. But every so often, his gaze would cut back to me, heated and heavy with intent. A reminder that I was the true focus of his attention, even as he played to his adoring acolytes.

Overwhelmed and more than a little shaken by the intensity of our connection, I decided to take Elvis's absence as my cue to slip away. I needed some space to clear my head, to process the dizzying events of the night away from the intoxicating force of his presence.

As much as I wanted to stay, I knew this could turn out to be a very bad idea. Elvis Presley was about to ruin me. If I let myself fall any deeper under his spell, I might not be able to find my way back out. And with my heart and dreams on the line, that was a risk I couldn't afford to take.

So with a heavy heart and a longing glance over my shoulder, I quietly extracted myself from his view and made my way back to my room. I'd pack my bags, get some much-needed rest, and then pour my heart out to Deena once I was safely back home, far away from the magnetic pull of Elvis's charm. If nothing else, the past two days' events would make a hell of a story.

It was the smart choice, the safe choice. But as I walked away, each step heavy with regret, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was leaving something precious behind. A chance at something rare and wonderful, slipping like stardust through my fingers.

Keeping to the edges of the room, I managed to exit the suite without drawing attention to myself. The relative silence of the hotel hallway was a balm to my frayed nerves as I made my way to my own room. My hands were trembling as I fumbled with the key, my mind awhirl with Elvis's heated looks and the phantom sensation of his touch on my skin.

I'd barely gotten the door open when I heard hurried footsteps behind me. Heart leaping into my throat, I whirled around. Only to come face to face with Joe Esposito, Elvis's right hand man.

"Valerie, wait!" He jogged up to me, slightly out of breath, his hand outstretched. "Boss man wanted me to give you this before you disappeared."

He pressed a small slip of paper into my palm. Glancing down, I saw it was a ticket… to Elvis's show tomorrow night. Front row seat, VIP access. I looked back up at Joe, startled.

He grinned knowingly. "Elvis requests the pleasure of your company tomorrow evening. He'd like you to be in one of his private booths."

I gaped at him, stunned speechless. An exclusive invitation to the Presley show, the hottest ticket in town? To watch from one of his personal booths? It was an honor bestowed on only his most inner circle...certainly not on some starstruck nobody he'd just met.

"I...wow. I don't know what to say," I stammered, clutching the ticket like a lifeline.

Joe chuckled. "You don't gotta say nothing, sweetheart. Just show up and knock his socks off like you did tonight." He gave me a friendly wink. "Wear something pretty. Elvis likes his girls dolled up nice."

With that bomb dropped, he turned on his heel and sauntered off, leaving me gaping after him. I looked back down at the ticket, running my thumb over the embossed lettering.

Elvis Presley, larger than life and twice as magnetic, wanted me in his booth tomorrow. Wanted to see me again. It was the stuff of dreams and fairy tales, the kind of thing that didn't happen to girls like me. And yet... Squaring my shoulders, I tucked the ticket carefully into my purse and slipped into my room. As I began my nightly ablutions, I couldn't stop the giddy smile from spreading across my face. How foolish and naive of me. But also, how very curious.

Ready or not, I had tickets tomorrow. I had to extend my stay, if for nothing but to see what all the fuss was about. And come hell or high water… I was going to knock his socks off, just like Joe said. But before I could do that, there was the matter of having nothing beautiful to wear...

Taglist: @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @arrolyn1114 @missmaywemeetagain @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @prompted-wordsmith @precious-little-scoundrel @peskybedtime @lookingforrainbows @austinbutlersgirl67@lala1267 @thatbanditqueen @dontcrydaddy @lovingdilfs @elvispresleygf @plasticfantasticl0ver @ab4eva @presleysweetheart @chasingwildflowers @elvispresleywife @uh-all-shook-up @xxquinnxx @edgeofrealitys-blog@velvetprvsley @woundmetender @avengen @richardslady121 @presleyhearted @kendralavon7 @18lkpeters@lookingforrainbows @elvisalltheway101 @sissylittlefeather @eliseinmemphis@tacozebra051 @thetaoofzoe @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @crash-and-cure @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @devilsflowerr@dirtyelvisfant4sy @elvislittleone @foreverdolly @getyourpresleyfix@gayforelvis @headfullofpresley @h0unds-of-h3ll @hipshakingkingcreole @p0lksaladannie @doll-elvis @tacozebra051 @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997 @myradiaz@livelaughelvis @deke-rivers-1957

#songbird #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis x oc #elvis fic #elvis presley slow burn

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rozeliyawashereyall · 1 month

Text

Sibling photo!

W/O the photo frame

Ik the left arm looks kinda off but hush

Now get ready for a long fucking rant about my listeners

Starting with Dennys! AKA Mariah Rose

(I'll do the others later)

Doing this just so I can keep her backstory from constantly changing or fusing with others

Alright so! :

Mariah is in her early 20s (maybe 23 or 25?)

Freckled ginger supremacy /hj

She has a bit of a stutter when she talks and is kinda insecure about it

Though shy with new people at first, a completely different person when they've known each other for a few months. By that, I mean she goes from a shy, quiet girl to a chaotic, loud menace

Has matching orange highlights with her brother

By the request of her strict mom, she entered university at about 18, dropped out at 21, and went back a few months later and finished her degree at 23

She has an electrical engineering degree that she still hasn't used because finding jobs is kinda hard

A very new employee at denny's

Literally only started working there to spite her mom

Mommy issues

Dad is pretty cool with whatever she does tbh long as she stays safe

Has 2 younger siblings who are twin sisters (Alicia and Amy) and 1 older brother (Henry). They all have a pretty strong bond!

Smoked for a year, quit because her sister Alicia developed asthma

Her other sister Amy wears hearing aids and really likes to draw!

The twins Alicia and Amy are 12 years old

Her brother is in his late 20s, engaged, has a medical degree, and works as a doctor in a hospital

Mariah struggled with her mental health for a few years, which is also why she dropped out before going back when her health improved

Used to wear glasses before getting eye surgery (paid by her dad cuz ain't no way she had enough money for that)

Did soccer in high school before breaking her ankle, leading to a few difficulties with walking for a few years, so she quit. Still kinda has pain in her leg whenever she walks

Occasionally does random arts n crafts with her sister to spend time with them

Also includes doing pranks on her brother

Was very alone and lonely from elementary to middle school, slowly started to get more extroverted in high school

Mariah only had very few friends. She wasn't really bullied or kept out of the group, but more like girlie was too anxious to approach anyone. So, her friends were the ones to initiate friendship first

Gal is so chaotic when she gets more comfortable. omg, comes from having multiple siblings, lol. In later stages of high school, she definitely started getting a bit more of a troublemaker, but not to the point of getting written up or kicked out

Def a people pleaser, girl says yes to almost anything (too nervous to say no cuz she doesn't want to upset anyone) her friends are usually the ones who say no for her

Prefers darker clothing and gets cold pretty fucking easily so she always has a jacket on her. Also has some walking problems due to the soccer accident I mentioned in the rant, so she's almost always sitting (gets a pass from the teachers to stay inside the classroom during recess) and sometime brings a walking stick with her if her leg is really acting up

Denise and Sarah from @piffany666 and @rustycopper4use taught her the ropes when she started working in dennys /hj

And that's all for now! Lemme know if you have any questions about her

#Backstory #escaped audios #my greasefire life #my art #denny's into the dennysverse

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 8 months

Text

The Dutchess of Camden

Hobie wants to take Diane to her first punk show. And she has just the outfit. (a.k.a How Diane got her punk battlejacket - aka I saw this photo of Fran Fine and laughed so hard.)

DiscoPunk - DiscoSpider!Diane x Hobie Brown - PURE FLUFF. More fluff than a cappucino with extra foam. FLUFFY

Also this post was largely inspired by @spidey-bie and their post about Ansi & Hobie!!

______________________________________

Diane isn't punk.

With chiffon skirts and silk shirts and glittery nails and light up roller-wheels - if anything, she was the farthest thing from it. But that never stopped her, did it?

Without a doubt, she was still Hobie's #1 fan.

Hobie had only known Diane a couple of weeks - and it was only four months ago that he'd met her that in that darkened club, a Daiquiri on her lips and a joint at her fingertips.

And since then, the party hadn't stopped.

Hobie didn't have an explanation for it - but for some reason, Diane seemed to like him. If anything, she seemed to adore him. And that in itself wasn't a rarity -

She just wasn't afraid to show it.

Out of a room full of people, she'd be the one to approach him first. In a cafeteria full of tables, she was the one to ask if she could sit at his, just because 'y'all seem like you're having fun'.

And regardless of what anyone had to say about it, to Hobie - that only added to the appeal. Because Diane said it all the time -

'Closed mouths don't get fed - Ain't that right?'

Over the weeks, he'd gotten used to her face, front row at SpiderBand's every show. He'd gotten use to her laugh, and the way she'd smile every time he told a joke - no matter how unoriginal. How he could make her laugh without fail.

He'd gotten use to the way he felt when he knew she was there, safe somewhere nearby.

Like praying for someone to turn up to school that day, and then hearing that they did.

And did having her on his arm, his voice in her ear, an inside joke between the two of them - mean them anything?

Hobie didn't know. And he didn't care.

It didn't matter what Diane being at his side made her - as long as she wasn't going anywhere.

And so he'd bring her along for the ride, as long as she'd let him.

Hobie and Diane had known weeks, and she was never shy to invite herself, asking for permission to tag along any place that sounded funky enough for her to find it far out.

And he was never one to tell her 'No'.

But there was one place she'd yet to go - and that was 138.

"Oi, I'm taking you to a rock show tonight. It's in 138, so try to blend in, alright?"

"Of course!" she says. "I've been waiting for this! I have just the outfit."

And then she turns up in this.

Diane looks at him and goes "What'd I tell ya!"

She's so proud of herself. She thinks she's killing it. She brought that outfit the month she met him and she's been waiting for this moment.

She's like -

Hobie has to cover his face. Because if he looks at her - he's gonna start laughing. Cause what iN THE HELL-

Hobie looks at her like -

"Di, where'd you get that?"

She's like "Malala (Spider-UK). It's SO CUTE right. I look all posh!"

Hobie is like "You look like a Spice Girl. You look like Scary Spice and Ginger Spice had a baby."

Diane takes a moment to assess the situation. She reads his body language. And of course she's like "I feel very complimented but your tone of voice is saying otherwise, Hobart."

Cause what do you mean??? she absolutely understood the assignment!!!

Hobie takes a moment. He loves the enthusiasm, but still, he considers a way to break it to her softly, before telling her "Yo, me and my mates be setting that flag on fire-"

"Good cause it looks fire on ME."

And.. She's not lying. So what's the problem?!?

Hobie doesn't have one. And it'll be a frigid day in hell before he tells Diane to change - for any reason, clothes or otherwise.

He asks her if she'd dead set on wearing it, and she's goes "What- do you think the skirt is too tight to dance in? I can. Don't worry, I checked."

If she's going to have a good time, that's all he cares about. And Hobie just smiles, telling her if that's the case then the outfit is bloody perfect.

Because somehow Diane finding the most perfectly coordinated outfit regardless of crowd, vibe, occasion, or time of day, seemed so entirely her.

Not faking it for him in ripped fishnets or studded clothes. Turning up in her perfect black stockings and the most painfully British outfit she could find.

And it wasn't until she pointed to him, that he understood why. "I wanted to match - you know, your pin." she says, pressing a manicured nail to his lapel. "It's my favorite one."

To him, the outfit is perfect. Funny as hell, but perfect.

"Brilliant taste you have." "Couldn't you tell from my taste in boys?"

The whole 'blending in' thing went out the window. But the outfit is a hit.

People couldn't help but notice the 6 foot girl who wore stilettos and a Union Jack to the function. A regular in the circuit, Hobie couldn't help but stay by her side - watching amused as she looked around the shitty backalley venue like it was a palace.

It was so different from the discos.

Diane couldn't help but marvel at how 'Hobie' the world seemed. "You're still the coolest thing here, though." She tells him over and over.

Hobie makes sure to keep an arm over her shoulder, not out of possessiveness, but the fact that Diane was liable to drifting off, eyes dazzled at how cool and punk and textured and rough everything seemed, how vibrant people were.

And Hobie loved it.

He wants her to love it, to enjoy herself. To smile and laugh and go on and on about how funky everything was. "But like - in a you way."

He wanted her to have a good time, but Hobie knew eventually, someone would say something.

And it came with a laugh.

"Christ, that's gotta be the funniest thing I've seen tonight." A guy wearing red liberty spikes said, and Hobie recognized him as Ned, a guitarist in some straight edge band.

And the girl at his side, Betty, grinned as she laughed along.

And Hobie wondered if he should scare them off, or give Diane a chance to bite their heads off first. Until Betty said-

"Fuck. I wish I'd thought of that."

"Huh?" Diane asked pointedly, seemingly more annoyed at the distribution of her Hobie-induced haze than anything else.

"Ain't that a giant 'fuck you' to the fascists - a black chick wearing their 'heritage' like it's the new spring collection - I'd pay to see the first skinhead that had a butchers at you," Betty said and she was a black girl herself, hair in neat boxbraids. "They'd be fucking fuming."

Diane side-eyed Hobie for a translation, and Hobie smirked, leaning in closer to her ear. "That's a good thing," he assured her, voice teeming with pride as he gave her shoulder a squeeze.

Because pissing off skinheads was very much a compliment.

Diane raised her eyebrows, because she surely couldn't tell. But, if Hobie said it, she was willing to take his word on it.

"Thank you..?" She chuckled, a hand on Hobie's arm. "Sorry, I ain't that good at speaking British. Hobie usually translates for me - Thank God he speaks American or I'd be so lost -"

"And she's American - that's fucking hilarious. No wonder she doesn't give a fuck." Ned said, grinning, pointing to her top.

And finally, Diane looked down - as if she'd just noticed what they meant.

"The flag?" She questioned, pouting her lips in confusion. "Am I supposed to give a fuck about the flag?"

"You aren't." Betty said. "That's what's so punk about it."

Her face lit up. Diane didn't speak British, but that she understood.

And she had to turn her face into Hobie's shoulder to not squeal. They said her perfect outfit was punk!

They said she was Punk!

Hobie stiffled his laughter, pulling Diane closer as he reached up to ruffle her perfectly curled hair.

Diane bit back her euphoria as she composed herself, flattered beyond belief. And to the pair in front of her, Diane said -

"Why, thank you!" mimicking a curtsey, head bowed and knees bent.

The pair burst out laughing.

And then, they did the same, playing along.

"Pleasure is ours, Your Majesty.~" Betty snickered, nudging Ned to get him to play along, and the dark-skinned boy did the same. "And to whom do we owe the honor?" he asked.

"Diane." Hobie said, squeezing her at the waist for a moment, and before she could tell them otherwise, Hobie said. "Call her Dutchess, yeah?"

Betty held back a snort. "Dutchess - She the Dutchess of Camden then?"

"Brilliant, you two." Ned said. "Leave it to Hobie to find a cheeky one."

Diane was glowing in his arms.

"The Duchess of Camden." Hobie said, a smirk coming to his lips. He adored the sound of it. "That she is. A national treasure, this one." And he believed it.

Hobie couldn't help but drink in the joy on Diane's face.

The name was so prestigious sounding - glamourous even - and Diane had no idea what the hell a Dutchess was, but she damn sure knew what royalty meant.

But nothing could compare to Hobie's words.

She pressed her hands to her cheeks, drinking in the flattery. And when she looked at Hobie her eyes were elated, dazzled to share the moment with him.

"Oh my, What a Prince Charming!" Diane laughed, wrapping her arms around Hobie. Who knew people in his universe would be just as cool, as interesting, as kind?

Who knew that not caring or thinking about British culture at all - not trying to make a statement, or say much of anything at all, could be punk? Hobie didn't.

Somehow, though, Diane managed to work miracles.

"Well, Dutchess," Ned said. "I take it you and Prince Charming here fancy a cordial invitation to the pub after this?"

Diane's jaw nearly dropped. "A Pub, like a Tavern?" And she couldn't imagine anything more British than a tavern. "Like the kind that serves pints? Just say the word and I'll call my horse-drawn carriage!"

Dutchess rode carriages, right? Who else would?

Betty shook her head, a grin on her lips. "Enjoy the show, Your Highness." she said, lacing her fingers with Ned's before weaving them back into the crowd.

For a second, Diane didn't say anything - cheeks glowing with the smile she was fighting back. Hobie wished he could make her feel that way forever.

"Well Punk royalty, how do you feel?" he asked, his voice low enough just for her to hear.

"You know," Diane said, turning to look at him, and slowly she laced her arms around his neck. "With this dimension time travel stuff - it's like you're the Punk Doctor Who, and I'm your companion, right? You know that British show, Doctor Who? The watch is like our Tardis-"

"Diane," Hobie said. "Never change."

__________________________

Hobie didn't know what this made him, but he didn't care.

He'd take Diane any place she'd follow. Any place she'd follow, he'd want her there.

Even here, on the curb of a street somewhere in London. Outside of a 24-hour Chip Shop at 3am.

Diane had followed him to 138 - and in return he'd followed her to a punk show. And then to an afterparty, and then to a pub, and then another.

And more and more people came over, to laugh and talk, to invite her into the community. And bit by her bit, her 'perfect' outfit had gained color.

A pin passed on from a friend, a patch someone would pull off their jacket, fishing for bobby pins to pin it to hers. A clover patch to match his pin, an A sprawled across the front like The Scarlet Letter.

Hobie couldn't describe the way Diane looked at him every time, the way she squeezed his hand and didn't let go. But that didn't matter. He just wanted her to do it more and more.

By stop two, she was complaining about her feet. But come 20 minutes, without fail - there she was, hanging on his sleeve. Asking him to leave so they could go someplace more her speed, 'hipper to the groove'.

And he'd always say 'Yes'. There wasn't a moment of it that he regretted.

He'd follow her anywhere, because he knew she'd do the same. And now, sitting on the curb on some random street in East London, Diane had the beginnings of her own battle jacket.

And a backpatch to match his, with her own addition:

'Punk's Not Dead.' 'He's back at my place.'

Hobie popped open the box of takeout, steam escaping as he lifted the flaps on the fish & chips. Beside him, Diane rolled her eyes in ecstasy at just the smell of it, throwing her head back in excitement.

Needless to say, Diane was plastered.

"You spoil me." she squealed leaning in closer to gaze at the sacred food that sat in Hobie's lap, her arm looped with his as the smell of fresh battered fish rose from the box.

Hobie lifted up a bit of fish, holding it out to Diane. "You ever tried this? Can't say you've been to London until you have. Like going to New York and leaving without the pizza." he smirked, eager to see her reaction - that look in her eyes.

Diane leaned forward, taking a bite of the fish without even taking it from his hand - too drunk to care.

"I don't know if it's because I'm drunk, or because I'm with you - but British food is so good." she snickered, stealing a chip from the box.

Carefully, she sniffed it.

"It has vinegar." he told her, watching as Diane nodded seriously, before pointing the chip at the box. "And that?" she asked.

"Mushy peas."

"Mushed peas?" Diane said, part bewildered, but mostly disgusted. "Mushed peas - is that what you said?"

Hobie snickered. "You ain't gotta eat them. I'll eat them if you don't want to-"

"You're gonna eat them?!" Diane demanded, jaw agape. "I was just complimenting you're national cuisine and now you're offering me pea sludge?" she laughed, almost in disbelief.

"You ain't gotta eat the pea sludge, Dutchess. Dump it in the harbor if you wanna kick off. That's what you all do, yeah?"

Now Diane's expression turned to shock. "Don't compare me to a Bostoner! As a New Yorker, I take offense to that." she said, stealing another chip. "You don't see me calling you a Birmingham-nite or whatever."

"Brummie -" Hobie corrected. "Surprised you know about them."

"I don't." Diane assured him. "I just know they exist."

Hobie grinned, taking a bite of fish, as for once - London seemed quiet around them.

No loud music. No crowd, or laughter, no anything. Just them. And Hobie realized that this was the first time they'd been alone - since that night they'd met, four months ago.

And he still felt the same as he did back then - in the alleyway behind the club, bathed in neon lights.

He had slipped into her world to find her - and now here she was, slipping in to his. And here, now, with her post-show hair, and smudged red lips, and blurred eye-liner. In her spray-painted jacket, and a hangover around the corner - he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Hobie -" Diane asked, eyes far away. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did." he snickered, simply because he knew it would get her attention. Diane grinned, even despite herself, and she shoved his shoulder.

But he could tell, whatever it was - she meant it. "Anything." he said.

"Why do you.. let me follow you around?" she asked, and even to her, the words felt clumsy, clouded by nerves and 4 pints of beer.

"I mean - Why do you put up with it?" she asked, voice barely at whisper. And for the first time, it was like she couldn't look at him. And yet he couldn't look away.

"With what everyone says. I mean - I know that you hear it. And..I'm not subtle about it. But you never complain. Or tell me to go away. I guess at a certain point, a part of me thought that maybe you just...didn't want to hurt my feelings, I guess."

Diane said, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

"But then, you invited me here. And you've been so kind to me all night. Even though I'm just some chick who shows up to your shows. And, I don't know how to thank you, or why you do it." she said, voice barely a whisper.

"Because I know that you care. Cause I can tell you do." Hobie said. "And I can tell you don't want nothing of me. You aren't asking me for romance or anything. We can just be together. Wherever. And that's enough. More than enough." Hobie said, and to him, the answer came easy. Now that it was her who was asking.

And maybe that was it. "We're enough for each other."

And she was more than enough for him. More than enough for him to watch to keep her around, and then some.

Diane's expression softened, the lump in her throat growing. "Thank you," she said. "For never making me feel like I was annoying. Or like I wasn't worth your time."

For making her feel like she was enough, always.

"You are worth my time, Daiquiri." Hobie said, and he reached up to brush a stray curl from Diane's face. "Don't want you to ever think otherwise. I don't know why you do it - what I did to deserve it.

But it doesn't matter. I ain't letting you get rid of me now."

Beside him, Diane grinned, hanging her head in bashfulness.

"I'd kiss your cheek right now, if I didn't smell of fish and vinegar right now." she told him, and instead, so instead she pressed a kiss to her fingers, before smooshing it in his face.

Hobie snorted, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer. Pressing kisses to her forehead, even as she faked a grimace. Because he didn't care about fish or vinegar or anything else. Just her.

Diane laughed, shoving away from him just as Hobie asked "And what about you?"

"What about me?" "Why do you do it?" he asked. "I mean, could have any bloke on any Earth. But you choose me."

And he would never understand it, but he would always be grateful.

For a moment, Diane had to think about it - and Hobie wondered if she ever questioned it herself. Or if she just did what made her happy, and worried about any bridge when she came to it.

Diane shrugged a bit, stealing another chip as she thought, eyes lidded and voice quiet under the haze of alcohol.

"I dunno. You make me feel safe, I guess." She said, and maybe it was that simple. Because saying it felt right.

"I don't have to worry - about you laughing at me, or judging me, slutshaming me. You don't think I'm stupid, or annoying. I mean, you let me wear this outfit, you made me feel good about it. So I trust you."

Because she could tell he cared too.

Hobie grinned, leaning forward to brush his nose against hers, their own form of kiss. "And that's enough for you to treat me as good as you do?"

"I mean, we met when I was shitfaced drunk." Diane said, well aware she was probably shitfaced right now. "In a club, basically throwing myself at you - and you somehow got me home and into bed." And she snickered at the memory alone. "You even put my bonnet on me."

"You were there the first time I saw the Sun. Or a sunset. I guess I feel like if you're there, it'll be okay. Or like, super far out - groovy, psychedelic, absolutely dynamite!"

She laughed. "Like tonight. Thanks for tonight, Hobie."

"Anything for you, Dutchess." he told her.

"Look at you, treating me like Queen Eliza." "Elizabeth." "Does it matter?"

Did it matter what they were?

"Not at all."

Because they were enough.

_-_-_-_-_-_

"Are you actually going to eat the pea sludge?" "What, is that a crime, your highness?" "No, but it should be."

_____________________________________________

Hobie will keep Diane ignorant about British culture, if it's the last thing he does. He finds it really, really funny.

And that's the story of how Diane got her punk jacket, why Hobie calls her 'Dutchess', and why they stick with each other through everything. UUHHHH N-E-WAY I think this might be like my first DiscoPunk fic holymotherof!!!!! I LOVE THEM. I LOVE THEM. I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM. Let your OCs be loved. If you read this far thank you so much! It genuinely means a lot, so thank you for your time! In an act of gratitude here is Hobie

(thats them im gonna go cry)

#Diane: British people are so silly and funny look at me I'm Bri'ish #Pavi: look at I I'm Bri'ish I like stealing other countries artifacts #I LOVE NON-CONVENTIONAL RELATIONSHIPS #MY BABIES MY BABIES #spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #NOT proofread but full of LOVE #spidersonas #spidersona #hobie x oc #hobie brown x oc #oc art #my ocs

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iceman-kazansky · 1 year

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4 times Donald Malarkey Wanted to kiss you , the one time he did.

Pairings: Donald Malarkey x f!reader

Requested by: none, just an idea I had :)

Warnings: Bastogne, Mentions of depression, character death, Donald being flustered, uhh tons of switches of POV's but just read it and be happy.

A/n: reallllyyy didn't like this. I mean, I like the Toccoa part (#1) but I felt like it gradually decreased in quality as it went on. Also, my first ever band of brothers fic so be weary.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

1. Close call in Toccoa

Malarkey, shamefully, had noticed how much his thoughts were about you. He found you occupying his mind about anything and everything. Something you said yesterday, your smile when Luz had mocked Coronel sink, your eyes and how they shined in the dark moonlight during the notorious night march, your hands when you'd accidentally brushed your knuckles against his during breakfast this morning.

All the little things nobody else would care to notice Malarky cherished like it was religion. Of course, Malarkey's best friends, Muck and Penkala, had caught wind of his obsession when he spoke just a little too much of the woman within the company.

They teased him for it, as all friends do when they learn their best bud is crushing a little too hard on a girl.

Sitting in the cafeteria, Malarkey was subject to that teasing. "Whatcha dreaming about larkey'?" Warren asked, a cheeky smile stretched across his face.

"You already know it's Y/n, so why'd you ask?" Alex was quick to respond, Warren nodding in fake thoughtfulness.

"I imagine Malarky sits and dreams all about kissing Y/n. I saw him staring at her yesterday. Ain't that right Malarky? What were you thinking about then?" Warren's smile grows even larger and he puckers his lips, "mhmm" He groans with a mock high-pitch voice, "y/n, Please kiss me! You're so pretty! I really, really love you y'know!"

The ginger flushes red from embarrassment, Although, Donald won't lie to himself, he does think of the softness of your lips more than he'd like to admit… but that wasn't the point. He thinks to himself while he swats his friend harshly from across the table, trying to shut him up before the whole company learns his secret. "Can it, will you?" He whisper-yells, kicking Warren in the shins full force to which causes the blond haired boy to exclaim in agony.

"It's true! I swear, you probably think about kissing her–" Warren is cut off by a very familiar voice and Malarkey's stomach drops in fear.

"Who's thinking about kissing who?" You say, plopping down in the seat next to Malarky innocently, while the poor ginger turns as red in the face as his hair on his head.

Theres a few beats of stunned, awkward silence before finally Alex answers "Malarky thinks about kissing-" Donald shoots him a warning glare and a hard nudge of his foot, "-Margaret. Yeah, a girl back home whom he knew. A real broad, that one."

Malarkey doesn't notice the way your face falls at the mention of someone at home, "Y-yeah" He stutters out. "Margaret. Real pretty." Or the way you go silent and your shoulders slump.

"Sounds real nice." You half mumble while you shovel a spoon of oatmeal in your mouth.

Muck and Penkala glance at each other with looks that say 'oh fuck' while everyone resumes eating breakfast in an awkward silence.

Oh fuck was right.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

2. Thunder and flash

Malarkey hit the ground with a thud, his white parachute settling on the ground behind him while he worked on cutting himself free and condensing the fabric into a tight roll.

It was dark, with sounds of gunfire in the distance. A rustle in the bushes caused Malarkey's head to snap in that direction. "Thunder?" He called out hesitantly, cautious not to be too loud.

The bush moved, followed by "flash" in response and a silhouette stepped out.

With the limited lighting Malarkey was squinting to see who he had reunited with. Was it Liebgott? Toye? Winters? Was it you?

It didn't take long to get an answer when the person made themselves known, stepping into a thick beam of moonlight, face illuminated by the white light.

Malarkey was beyond relieved. He had found you. Even better, still alive and breathing. He doesn’t know what he would've done had it been your body, strung up in the branches of a tree.

"You're alive." He all but whispered.

"What'd you think was gonna happen? Really thought the Krauts got the better of me?" You chuckle, a warm smile on your face, "Have a little faith, will you?"

Oh how he wanted to cup your cheeks and kiss you.

Malarkey wanted to reach forwards, grab your face with his hands, and plant his lips on yours. He wanted to show you how worried he was. How sickeningly scared he had been that you were dead before he'd even jumped from the plane.

There is a silence while you move to embrace each other, eyes staring into one another's in an emotion you both can't quite name, something you'll find out later when feelings unravel themselves.

Malarkey doesn't notice the way you both subconsciously had begun leaning into each other, faces inching closer. A thought flashed across Malarkey's mind. He could kiss you. He could ruin his friendship.

Little did he know, none of that would need to be decided as A voice calls from the bushes "Thunder?" immediately met with you calling out a quick 'flash!' And pulling away.

Begrudgingly, Malarkey realizes he must find easy company, there's no time to sulk, he finishes packing his parachute into a tight ball and stands to join you and the new soldier they joined with.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

3. Drunken confession in the times after Carentan

The bar was deafening and unorderly. Soldiers of all ranks and ages were drinking, a golden yellow ale were being thrust into the air in cheer over the recent win in Carentan.

Malarkey and his best friends, Warren Muck and Alex Penkala were seated in a small booth towards the back of the bar with each of them having an ale on the table.

Malarkey excuses himself, going to grab another drink, he blows a sigh through his lips and begins pushing himself through the mass of people and to the bar.

When he finally got to the counter, two bartenders were rushing between calls for another beer. He was going to be here for awhile.

While standing patiently waiting for a drink, a figure approaches. Malarkey recognizes it as Lieutenant Winters and immediately is straightening himself out when he approaches. "Sir?" He questions when the red-headed lieutenant stops in front of him.

"Malarkey. I think it'd be best for sergeant Y/n to be off for the night. Except, she won't listen to me."

Donald smiles at the Lieutenant, peeking over his shoulder in the direction he came, sure enough seeing a drunken you, half asleep and nearly falling off your chair. "Will do, lieutenant."

"Have a good evening, Malarkey." And with that the man was off.

Making his way over to you, the ginger tapped you on the shoulder gently, prompting a grunt in response. "C'mon y/n, we gotta get you to bed."

Attempting to stand you nearly topple over, Malarkey's hand reaching out to grip your forearm, a giggle escaping your drunken lips. After stumbling out into the warm summer air and across camp, Malarkey had you nearly in bed and was ready to leave you to your own.

He draws in a deep breath and leans down hesitantly. Malarkey places his lips lightly on your cheek for a moment, hunched over your half-asleep form.

Moments pass where you stay like that before he whispers a soft "good night" and exits the room promptly.

when he leaves he can feel the giddiness running through his veins, a smile pulling itself onto his lips.

Oh god he was in for it.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

4. Bastogne; frozen hell

Malarkey wasn’t sure what to do anymore. There was a dull ache that filled his chest, a sensation that he could only describe as a leech sucking the life straight from the organ that pumped blood throughout his body. He was a man stranded on an island, unable to get off.

Muck was gone. Penkala was gone too. Gone as in, He’d never talk to them again. Bodies blown into oblivion by a direct hit of a mortar. If he’d known the last words he had spoken to them would've been so soon, he would have told them a whole lot more. Told them how good of friends they had become and how dear they had become to him. But he'd never get that chance because they had been taken from him all too soon. Like a bandaid being pulled off a fresh wound, much to early to fend off the infectious depression threatening to poison him from the brain. Kill him with his own emotions.

Oh god, he wanted to break down. He wanted to be held in the arms of the person he loved. Wanted to cry so hard all his worries went away. But Malarkey wasn’t supposed to do that; wasn't allowed for he was a man in a time of war.

Malarkey was perched on the edge of the cot he was assigned, elbows resting on tired knees and supporting his head while he stared meaninglessly at the floor. His eyes traced over the brown cracks etched into worn floorboards, following each individual splinter and fissure, curious to where they ended up.

“Malarkey?”

He knew it was you, in the back of his mind your voice clicked, but he didn’t have it in himself to look up or respond in fear he would break down. He didn’t want to seem so vulnerable in front of you.

“Don?”

Malarkey could feel a piece of his cold, lifeless gaze peel away with the soft mention of his name, the syllables falling delicately from your perfect mouth. And when he looked up, his crestfallen gaze meeting your concerned one, he felt the strong want to cry. The emotion must've crossed his face more prominently than he’d have liked, as something flashed in your gaze and immediately you were ready to comfort the grief-stricken man.

“Oh, Malarkey.” You say, breath no louder than a whisper, immediately seating yourself beside him on the bed and wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into the most delicate hug he’s ever had.

He finds it comforting how it reminds him of his mother back home. How she used to wrap him up in her arms and whisper sweet nothings into his ear when he would cry. Malarkey thinks about a lot of things while lying in your arms. He thinks about Muck, teasing him about something stupid he had done while Alex laughs from the side, adding on to the playful mocking they induce. He thinks about home, about his brothers John and Bob and his sister, Marilyn, or his mother and father, how they were all waiting patiently for his return to the states.

“I’m so so sorry.” You mumble into his hair, rocking the boy gently, “I know how much they meant to you.”

Malarkey doesn’t respond, he just cries silently into the comfort of your shoulder. He weeps onto your clothed arm, snot and wet tears soaking into the worn green fabric of your tunic– not like you mind.

When he feels like he's had enough, he's pulling away, red eyes puffy with tears and staring at you. "Thanks." It's quiet, such a low whisper before Malarkey is pulling away and standing up, leaving the tent.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

5. A broad named Margaret

Malarkey was done with war, done with the horrors forever etched into the fabrics of his very brain, done with firing a hot round of smoking gunpowder and bronze metal into a German's body and watching them fall to the ground.

He never thought he could have been happier when he received the news that the last of the German army surrendered.

The first thing he did was go looking for you, asking his fellow easy company boys if they'd seen you. After many, 'I Don't know, sir,' Liebgott was his savior and pointed out you were in a building just across the street.

Malarkey, bursting with joy, raced across the street and into the house, nearly running into you as he threw open the door.

He didn't even think, he just grabbed you and kissed you out of glee. He pulled away shortly after, barely recognizing the fact he probably ruined a good friendship out of his own moments of joy, and you looked like you were about to short circuit, pure surprise painting your face, "The Germans surrendered, the war's over!"

Malarkey is smiling down at you when your fist grab his collar harshly and yank him back down into a kiss.

He blinks in surprise, taken aback by your boldness, before melting into the kiss.

Yours and his lips move in sync, the world muted around the both of you, and the only sound was the beat of your hearts. The kiss was sweet as honey, soft and gentle, but full of love and affection. The taste of his lips lingered on yours, like a memory etched in your soul that you would never forget.

"Im sorry-" you splutter out shortly after.

"Sorry? About what?" Malarkey asks, a look of shock melting into his features.

"About Margaret– you love her, not me, and I just ruined that.. oh my God you probably hate me right now! Im just–"

Malarkey smiles and crashes his lips onto yours to silence your rambling, "You don't know how long I've wanted that." He whispers when he pulls away and leans his forehead against yours.

"B-but Margaret?"

"Oh silly," He chuckles, "Margaret was never real. We were talking about you."

"You were… thinking about kissing me?" A look of confusion paints your face while Malarkey laughs.

"Yes, sweetheart." He says before kissing you again.

If Malarkey thought he was happy about the end of the war, boy was he wrong. This made his whole life a greater place that he'd describe as a sunny meadow with white clouds scuttling across a vast blue sky and a colorful array of daisies and red eyed-susan's that blow gently in a breeze tainted with a smell of salt that wafts from the nearby ocean. That was his dream. To live there, in that place, with you. Luckily for him, the war was over, and you were both going home, together.

#x reader #female reader #angst #y/n #iceman kazansky #band of brothers #Donald Malarkey x reader #donald malarkey #ww2 #bastogne #carentan #toccoa #millitary #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #bob #BoB fanfic #easy company

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anthruser · 3 months

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SHAMELESS OPINIONS: S6 (cause Mickey's write off hurt and after s5, I watched again from s1 and forced myself to keep watching + no one around me likes Shameless so I need a place to vent)

overall: it's a meh season with strong plotlines

The F Word is SUCH a bop, my boy Gus ate. Sorry Fi, I really like you, but boo, you had it coming.

I get the whole controversy with Sean, trust me I do, but I enjoyed the dramatics of the relationship. He was way too hypocritical tho, the scene with the gun, as scary as it was, rubbed me the wrong way. I wouldn't blame Fiona or Carl for that. As someone raised in a house full of guns, I was taught to never ever go near one. Curiosity killed the cat with Will and he was obviously scared, but Sean my boy, no. I felt Sean sort of blended well with the family, understood dysfunction all too well so that's probably why, but at the end of the day, it was a scabbing wound.

The wedding scene, Fuck Frank, ik he helped Fiona dodge a bullet, but at the end of the day, it was never really about Fiona, it was about his damn ego as always. The whole situation was shitty for everyone and I felt for her, really. The bridge scene was dope as hell. Bravo. Cinematic.

With the Debbie v Fiona, I was honestly on Fiona's side most of the time. A decision like this, in their way of living, oof, and Fiona made it clear she wasn't gonna be in charge of another kid. Harsh, but... I wouldn't do it either. But the reality is, Debbie has always been around kids, and very clearly wanted to be a mother, as early as s1. It's just... timing wasn't right. But to tackle a teen to the ground??? Wtf. A grown ass woman. Girl. No.

Oh Lip... his lip ain't doing good. As fucked as the whole Helene thing was, no relationship has ever made more sense to me than that one (for all the wrong reasons) Mommy issues as bright as day right there. And the fact that he couldn't recognize that and saw it as a normal college Tuesday makes me pity him. People don't agree with the relationship, and they're right, they shouldn't, but not because it's a bad storyline. It should make you feel uncomfortable because it is, but that's something that sooner or later, was bound to happen with him. That scene where he walks to the bar and yaps like Frank does with a beer in his hand, and everyone in disbelief... oof...

EMT IAN. NEED I SPEAK??? My baby... Those first episodes were so hard for him... Fucking Lip being insensitive at times... FUCK Ian makes me cry. Him standing his ground to get the job back, oh lord. There's a deleted scene that should've stayed but oh well. Anyway. I love him.

Don't even get me started on Gallavich. The scene with Lana on patsies cuts me. That prison scene breaks me without fail every time. I can't. I just couldn't envision, if things really went without having to call back Noel for ratings and views in s7, that the prison scene would be -it- for them... His leave was horribly handled too... but alas...

Caleb??? I have much to say about him in s7, but he... isn't half bad here... Don't love him, but he's alright. Motivated our ginger boy to get a job that gave him purpose, gave him soft smooches and little lunches, and taught him to receive softness. I love those things but not because it comes from him, more so because Ian deserves those gestures. The HIV conversation was handled well I think??? Don't have any particular complains... yet

Frank's storyline at the start of the season interested me, with the cancer lady and whatnot, not a fan of indulging Debbie into grooming, but it's Frank, and Frank is a fucking pos, but as soon as Queenie comes along I got so fucking BORED. Just not my cup of tea, the whole organic storyline put me to sleep. Kind of wish Debbie wasn't involved cause I think her pregnancy journey had more potential than ending up with Queenie. Idk that whole thing was just boring for me.

White boy Carl... eh, it is what it is, seemed in character enough ig, everyone expected part of this future to head that way so, yeah. Nick... so many mixed feelings like everyone else. I just feel for him man, that situation was horrendous. That, along with 3x666 are the only two scenes where I can't like... they're hard to stomach, for obvious reasons ik, but yeah. That was tough. I feel like it was fun to see Carl with his shenanigans, somewhat cringe but I can't pinpoint if it's because of E's performance or shitty writing.

Mandy and Ian's moment, holy fuck. That made me tear up. Mandy my beloved... I hope you're doing well.

SVETLANA RISE.

#shameless us #shameless #season 6 #gallavich #debbie gallagher #fiona gallagher #the f word #white boy carl #emt ian #ian Gallagher

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vintagestagehotties · 8 days

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Hot Vintage Stage Actress Round 3

Ginger Rogers: Babs Green in Top Speed (1929 Broadway); Molly Gray in Girl Crazy (1930 Broadway); Dolly Gallagher Levi in Hello, Dolly! (1965 Broadway)

Ethel Merman: Reno Sweeney in Anything Goes (1934 Broadway); Annie Oakley in Annie Get Your Gun (1946 Broadway); Mrs Sally Adams in Call Me Madam (1951 Broadway); Liz Livingstone in Happy Hunting (1957 Broadway); Rose Hovick in Gypsy (1960 Broadway)

Propaganda under the cut.

Ginger Rogers:

justice for hot dancers!!!

Ethel Merman:

YOU EITHER GOT IT, OR YOU AIN'T. AND BOYS, SHE'S GOT IT.

She is THE star!

She doesn’t even need propaganda so here’s a story copied from wikipedia about an absolutely iconic comeback she had to her fourth husband, the big dick energy is off the charts: An oft recounted story from their short marriage demonstrated the volatility of their relationship. When Borgnine asked Merman how her audition had gone, she replied: "Well, they were mad about my 35-year-old body, my 35-year-old voice, and my 35-year-old face." "Is that so?" Borgnine responded. "And what did they think of your 65-year-old cunt?" Without missing a beat, Merman retorted: "You weren’t mentioned once.”

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I know this song is having a moment on TikTok with a different singer, but considering she's been bumped from the film bracket and really is better known for her theatre work, it IS her turn!

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From a movie role but shows the kind of presence she could have in stage settings!

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All of these examples -- which are only a small selection of the shows she opened -- were written for her; she was that essential to the Golden Age of musical theater. Titanic, stupendous, blow the roof off, staggering. For his 12th birthday, my dad's parents got him tickets to Gypsy; fourth row, dead center, he said seeing Ethel was the most exciting moment of his life.

#vintagestagepoll #vintagestagehotties #vintage poll #vintage tournament #vintage ladies #ginger rogers #ethel merman #ladies round 3

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caashmoneynae · 6 months

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STAY WITH ME.

JOEY BADA$$ x BLACK!FEM!OC

SUMMARY: in which Jo-Vaughn doesn't want his girlfriend to leave for work and will do whatever it takes to get her to stay home with him. ✨

❦

𝗧𝗘𝗝𝗔'𝗦 eyes fluttered open as the alarm from the clock on her bedside table blared out into the room, a soft groan slipping from her lips while she raised her hand from underneath her blankets and hit snooze before turning off her alarm.

(A/N: pronounced 'TEA•JUH')

attempting to sit up, Teja was stopped by Jo-Vaughn's groaning, his arms locking around her body while he lay on her chest. looking down at him, Teja playfully sighed and laid back down, making his groaning cease, as she let out a soft chuckle and ran her fingers over the pink bonnet on his head — which was hers and not his.

"Jo-Vaughn, you know i gotta' go to work, it's 7 o'clock. get'cho heavy ass off me." Teja chuckled, thumping his back, as Jo-Vaughn groaned and repositioned his body on hers, his face resting in the crook of her neck while his breathing gently tickled her collarbone.

Teja was an assistant for an extremely successful businessman and she was also a model on the side, bringing in as much money as her boyfriend if not more. Jo-Vaughn constantly told her to quit her assistant job to be a full-time model so she could be home with him more often, but his begging hardly ever worked. luckily for him, the company Teja worked for was moving their organization from Brooklyn to Dallas, meaning that Teja would either have to quit her job or move down to Dallas to continue working, and they both knew that she wasn't going to move down there for her job — even if did pay her well.

however, there was a small issue. the company was moving in September, meaning Teja would still have to work for three more months before she'd be free to spend time with Jo-Vaughn, and he hated it.

sure he was happy she was making money on her own, but that doesn't help the fact that he was left all alone in their house from 8 A.M. to 9 P.M. with nothing to do but smoke weed, eat food, go live on Instagram, and wait for his girlfriend to get home.

"mm-mm. stay with me," Jo-Vaughn muttered against her neck, sending vibrations through her body, as Teja chuckled softly and playfully rolled her eyes while she squirmed in his arms, "i be so lonely without you here. the house be so quiet and... still. i need you here, mama."

"if it makes you feel better, baby, i can come back on my lunch break." Teja offered, making Jo-Vaughn smack his lips, as he raised his head from her neck and looked down at her with a straight face.

"an hour ain't enough for me to spend time with you and you know that, T." Jo-Vaughn retorted, looking at her with a blank stare, as Teja laughed at his facial expression and shook her head.

"can i at least get up and brush my teeth? you all up in my face like i ain't got mornin' breath." Teja chucked as Jo-Vaughn chuckled with her and kissed her lips.

"girl, i'on give a damn 'bout no mornin' breath, shit, i got it too," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, securing his arms around her before getting up from the bed, as Teja squealed at him picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist, "but mark my words: YOU AIN'T LEAVIN' THIS HOUSE, GIRL."

"whatever you say, bonnet boy."

—

Teja gripped the clasp of her bra as she clipped it, resting the clasp against her back before adjusting her breasts and shifting them so they sat on her chest good. looking at herself in the mirror, she pushed one of her ginger box braids behind her ear and pursed her lips together, smoothing the Vaseline on her lips while she grabbed her pencil skirt from the sink counter.

after getting out of bed, Teja and Jo-Vaughn did their morning routine together and after that, Jo-Vaughn randomly disappeared downstairs — well, she didn't know where he went, so she assumed he was downstairs. the house was quiet — eerily quiet since Jo-Vaughn was the type to always make some type of noise whenever he was around — and it caused Teja's mind to slightly race with questions, but she just shoved them to the back of her mind and continued getting dressed.

beginning to slip her skirt up her moisturized brown legs, a hand suddenly stopped her as it gently gripped the cloth and stopped it from going any further, making Teja's brows slightly furrow while she raised her head and looked in the mirror. as if on cue with her head raising, her and Jo-Vaughn locked eyes as his low dark brown ones stared into hers, his black two-strand twisted dreads out of 'his' bonnet and in a ponytail while two strands hung down into his face.

the faint smell of weed hit Teja's nostrils and she realized that he had been smoking, which explains his low eyes, as she inaudibly chuckled and Jo-Vaughn's other hand gripped her waist, his thumb caressing her hip while he licked his lips.

"J, let go of my skirt, you gon' wrinkle it." Teja chuckled, tugging at the skirt from his grasp, as Jo-Vaughn chuckled softly and gently bit down on his bottom lip, showcasing his top row of pretty white teeth while his grip tightened on her skirt.

"take this muh'fucka' off, T," Jo-Vaughn enticed lowly, looking down at the skirt and noticing that it stopped at her mid-thigh, as he tilted his head a bit and stared at her figure feverishly, "YOU NOT LEAVIN' THIS HOUSE, AND I MEAN THAT."

"uh-uh, Jo-Vaughn, we not 'bout to do this right now. you gon' make me late again—" Teja suddenly paused, feeling his thumb trace her clitoris from the back through her underwear, as her grip abruptly slipped from her skirt and it fell onto the floor, the clothing item pooling around her ankles while Jo-Vaughn slyly smirked.

this wasn't the first time Jo-Vaughn tried to make her stay home by seducing her. it was actually the third — his attempts worked the first time, but they didn't work the second. despite this, it seemed like they'd work this time, but Jo-Vaughn was going to make sure she couldn't leave this time.

Teja quickly bit down on her lip, refusing to let him hear her sounds because she knew it'd only boost his ego and encourage him, as she gently gripped the counter with one hand and slightly gripped her thigh with the other, keeping her head low while his thumb circled her now throbbing bud and lightly pressed down on it. electricity suddenly shot through her lower half, causing her hips to jolt, and Jo-Vaughn noticed this as his smirk widened, knowing her body was giving in despite her mind saying no. Teja's brows slightly furrowed as her braids covered her face, making her grateful that she hadn't put her hair up or Jo-Vaughn would truly see how bad he was affecting her.

"Jo-Vaughn, i gotta' go..." Teja whispered, speaking in a whisper because she knew her voice would flake on her, as her slightly sweaty palm let go of her thigh and reached down to grab her skirt before both of her wrists were suddenly grabbed and pinned behind her back, making her let out a low gasp from her body now being pressed up against the cold counter while her boyfriend's body was pressed up against her as well.

"what i say, shorty? hm?" Jo-Vaughn whispered in her ear, erupting butterflies in her stomach, as he gripped her jaw and forced her to look at him through the mirror, "YOU AIN'T GOIN' NOWHERE."

there was nowhere for Teja to run. with Jo-Vaughn holding her wrists and keeping her against the counter, she was stuck there, unable to resist the temptations of morning sex with her lover. just by rubbing her clit, Jo-Vaughn had already brainwashed her to the point she was considering skipping work and staying home to fuck him. she tried to shake off the thoughts of succumbing to 7 A.M. coitus, but her brain's logical thinking center was beginning to crash like a frozen computer and she didn't know how long she could resist him before she gave in.

a quickie wouldn't hurt... right?

feeling a gentle bite on her neck, Teja gasped softly as she was brought back into reality, realizing Jo-Vaughn had managed to mark her with at least three hickeys before she could tell him no. his tongue slowly glided across her neck as he sucked on her smooth brown skin, making out with her neck while Teja moaned softly. tugging at the waistband of her panties, Jo-Vaughn's lust-covered eyes stared at Teja in the mirror, telepathically asking her for consent to strip her from her underwear.

biting down on her lip, Teja bashfully nodded her head, her face slightly flushing in embarrassment, and Jo-Vaughn smirked as he gripped the material and placed his knee between her thigh, spreading her legs while he pulled her underwear down her hips and watched it sit around her ankles with her skirt. letting go of her wrists, Jo-Vaughn backed up a bit and he gripped Teja's waist as he pulled her hips back and rested his hand on her back, signaling for her to arch for him.

doing as told, Teja arched her back and her head lowered once more out of embarrassment, her face flushing more than before while she gently grabbed the counter. she wouldn't say her boss was strict, but he wasn't too lenient either. she would definitely be getting a pep-talk tomorrow once she got to the office.

suddenly, Teja gasped lowly, one of her knees slightly buckling once she felt Jo-Vaughn's tip trace her folds. she slightly pushed her hips back, causing his tip to slip inside of her, and Jo-Vaughn smirked as his hands caressed her hips and he ran his tongue over his lips before biting down on his bottom one.

"gon' 'head. do it." her arousal started to drip down her inner thighs as she pushed her hips back further, moaning softly at feeling him stretch her out. Teja pushed back even further but stopped when butterflies crowded her stomach, so Jo-Vaughn pushed the rest in for her and she erupted into a loud moan, her brows furrowing while he stroked her slow and deep.

"J-Jo-Vaughn.." Teja moaned, feeling him push her braids to the side, as Jo-Vaughn kissed from her mid-back to her earlobe, gently tugging at it with his teeth while he slapped her ass.

"you still gon' leave me, baby? hm?" Jo-Vaughn cooed in her ear, smirking mischievously, as he wrapped his hand around Teja's neck and raised her head, causing them to lock eyes in the mirror, "and look at me when you talkin', pretty."

"...n-no... i'm n-not leavi— ohmyGodyou'resodeep..." Teja's words began to jumble up together as she loosely wrapped her hand around Jo-Vaughn's wrist, her eyes rolling back into her head while his strokes began to pick up speed.

Jo-Vaughn smirked, watching his girlfriend's face twist up into pleasure in the mirror, as he dipped his head down and peppered kisses on her shoulder and neck, listening to her love noises while her hand caressed the side of his face. his hair tickled her skin and fueled the fire bubbling inside of her as one of Jo-Vaughn's hands gripped the clasp of Teja's bra and removed it from her body, tossing it on the ground while his hands gripped and kneaded her breasts.

Teja whined as he tugged at her sensitive and erect nipples, feeling her stomach muscles tighten while she called out his name. the veins on his phallus pulsed inside of her and Teja's grip on the counter suddenly tightened as her jaw dropped, feeling her climax begin to sneak up on her like a thief in the night.

"i-i'm gonna—"

"hold it." Jo-Vaughn raised his body off of the woman and pulled out of her as he turned her around and picked her up by her thighs, sitting her on the counter while he gripped her legs and slightly pulled her more towards him.

slipping back inside of her dripping vulva, Teja's eyes rolled back for a second time and she moaned loudly as her hands gripped his shoulders and her eyebrows furrowed, one of her thighs gently trembling while Jo-Vaughn pulled her in for a kiss. the kiss was sloppy and filled with tongue and Teja wrapped her arms around his neck as she pulled him closer, his hands gripping her thighs while he pulled her legs up to his waist.

"you feel so good, baby." Teja moaned into the kiss, saliva dripping onto both of their chins, as she felt his tip graze her g-spot and she gasped into the kiss, making Jo-Vaughn smirk while he sucked on her tongue.

"i hit that spot, beautiful? huh?" Jo-Vaughn smirked, beginning to kiss down her jawline, as Teja whimpered softly and her lips sat ajar, her hand softly clutching the nape of his neck while the other gripped the counter.

"y-yes! oh, God, i'm gonna cum, i'm gonna cum, i'm gonna c-cummmm!" Teja whined, her head falling back and gently landing onto the mirror, as her brows furrowed and she squealed at feeling Jo-Vaughn bite down on her neck, his lips kissing her subtle skin while his tongue glided across her neck with ease.

"if i let you cum, will you stay with me, baby? hm? if i let this pretty pussy cum, you gon' stay home with me?" Jo-Vaughn muttered against her neck, sending vibrations down her spine, as Teja's legs began shaking and her eyes gradually rolled back, moans and whimpers falling from her lips with ease while her grip on the counter tightened.

knowing Jo-Vaughn, he wouldn't stop if Teja wouldn't stay home with him. he'd go on and on until she eventually gave in, and with Jo-Vaughn being so masterful at not only fucking her but knowing her body and all her sweet spots, Teja wouldn't be able to resist the temptation for too long. shit, she practically already gave in the moment he removed her underwear from her body.

but now she had to be vocal about it, and she knew it'd only boost Jo-Vaughn's ego, but she couldn't help it. she wanted to cum and she wanted to cum badly.

"I-I'll stay home! I'll stay home, baby, I p-promise! Oh, fuck, I'm c-cumming!"

#x black fem reader #x black reader #black girl beauty #smut #joeybadass #joey bada$$#x reader #black stories #black culture #black community #black love #black people #early morning

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