#and look! they're actually in the same room for this press tour!

[pilvimarja]

#William Zabka #Ralph Macchio #Zacchio #pilvimarja edits #the old men are looking cute!!!! #and look! they're actually in the same room for this press tour! #and i see ralph has been to the fountain of youth again

[jazzythursday]

Wylan leaves in the morning.

He doesn’t plan to, not exactly, but he definitely doesn’t plan on staying, either.

Wylan is no stranger to one night stands. He can’t say he gets around very frequently, but enough to know the general plot of how they're supposed to go.

Flirt, drink, fuck, leave. The order isn’t necessarily set in stone, but the list ends the same every time.

He has a good time, for the most part, and it’s always a welcome break from the awful chemical smell burned into the Tannery or the staleness of the empty rooms in cheap boarding houses (when he can afford them) that Wylan is used to. Wylan likes the freedom that comes with it, too. It’s liberating to go where he wants and do what he pleases; to not worry about who he’s seen with or sleeps with or what they might think of him after. And he likes feeling wanted, for a little while. He likes being reminded that he exists.

So Wylan does not make a habit of falling asleep with the people who take him to bed.

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, really.

He doesn't remember, and yet, Wylan wakes up with his head pillowed on Jesper’s chest. With Jesper’s arm draped over him. His breath is warm where it ghosts over the top of his hair, and if Wylan glances up he can see the way Jesper’s mouth— those lips— fall open in sleep.

It’s the best morning he’s had in months, possibly. Certainly the most comfortable.

He knows it can’t last.

Wylan looks at Jesper, still sleeping peacefully next to him, and he panics.

He’d woken up in Jesper Fahey’s arms.

He’d slept with Jesper Fahey.

Jesper has a reputation, and Wylan knows it, even new to the Barrel as he is. He’d heard about Dirtyhand’s second and resident sharpshooter plenty— Can’t resist a gamble, never misses a shot, and not just with bullets. Jesper Fahey is an excellent marksman, they say, with terrible luck with the cards, and a soft spot for pretty girls and even prettier boys.

Jesper’s played the field— multiple fields— went on a seismic world tour of fields.

Wylan is very good at not being noticed. He’s also very good at listening. People tend to look past him, they never pay any mind to the too skinny boy with the wild hair and the hunched shoulders and the grime that never seems to wash off completely after his long shifts at the Tannery. Wylan knows this, knows he’s very adept at being able to disappear, when he needs to.

So by the time Wylan actually meets Jesper, he’s well aware of his place in Ketterdam’s booming rumor mill. Jesper has many, and Wylan thinks by now he may have heard them all.

And yet, none of them do a thing to prepare him for Jesper.

They’d met in a tavern.

Wylan had been nursing his drink for the better half of an hour, trying to come up with reasons not to go back to the sad cot he had waiting for him in a rented room, with the only window overlooking the brick wall of a dark alley.

So far, he’d only come up with the one.

Wylan had seen the tall Zemeni man from across the room and hadn’t stopped looking since. He was flirting with a girl at the bar, twirling one of his guns in one hand demonstratively with a drink in the other. The girl— a curly haired blond— was giggling, hand pressed to her mouth with eyes that had very clear and direct intentions.

Wylan had almost resolved himself to a night of wasting the few kruge at his disposal with little to show for it, when the man had looked up and caught him staring. The man had smiled, twirling his gun with an extra flourish and then tipped his hat. Wylan smiled back, and gave a little wave. Embarrassing, He’d thought, stop it, he’s already with someone else anyway. He’d looked down, and stared at the near empty contents of his drink until someone sat down next to him and said, in a voice like apple butter and sweet syrup, “Can I get you another of those?”

Then Wylan had looked up into the eyes of the handsomest man he’d ever seen, and thought, he has the most perfect lips.

Out loud, he’d said, “I, uh, well—” His mouth was wide open, he’d realised, and shut it quickly. Again, the man had smiled. Again, Wylan had smiled back. “Yes, please.”

And that's how he’d met Jesper.

Afterwards, they’d stumbled through the streets— I know a place, Jesper said, If you want to take this somewhere more private— until they’d passed a corner where a vendor was selling traditional Kerch sweets out of a cart.

“Stroopwafels!” Jesper had stopped. “I love stroopwafels!”

Wylan was tugging him toward the cart without really making a conscious decision to move, and Jesper had laughed, surprised and delighted.

Wylan bought them both stroopwafels and handed Jesper his with a shy smile and a shrug. “For the drink.”

Jesper looked at him consideringly, head caulked to the side, and Wylan felt himself blushing in the low light of the lamps. “You’re sweet,” he’d said eventually.

“Is that bad?” Wylan had asked, sheepish. Jesper was already shaking his head.

“It’s good. Just not that many sweet things to be had in the Barrel. It’s refreshing.” He’d bit off a piece of one of the waffles and smiled. “These are sweet too,”— he’d leaned in, smile still earnest but with something decidedly different underneath— “I like sweet.”

Jesper had not touched him like he’d been expecting to be touched. Jesper made no assumptions; he’d asked, about everything, in a way that was near gentlemanly if it wasn’t for the fact that he radiated trouble through his pores. Jesper was— not quite gentle, because Wylan had expected hot and heady and everything deep, and Jesper was all of that and more— but he wasn’t rough. He didn’t bruise, not if Wylan didn’t say yes first, and afterwards he’d laid back down and settled Wylan into his arms in a way that he had no real way of protesting— didn’t want to protest, anyway— and kissed him.

It was that that had scared Wylan the most, he thinks. Because Wylan is rarely kissed for the express purpose of it. It was always the promise of more— the rush of what was to come. But people do not generally tend to kiss Wylan for the sake of kissing Wylan. It’s different. Jesper is different, and Wylan can’t afford to be stupid enough to do something like get attached. Can’t afford much at all— really.

But Jesper had kissed him, pleased and lazy and warm, and at some indeterminate time later they had both apparently fallen asleep.

And it was nice.

It was too nice. It hurt with how nice it was.

Wylan peels himself slowly out of Jesper’s arms, careful not to wake him, and decides then that he cannot stand to be here any longer.

Jesper Fahey is not what he’d expected, he’s better.

Jesper Fahey is lovely, and beautiful, and kinder to him than anyone has been to Wylan for almost as long as he can remember.

Jesper Fahey is more than he could have ever hoped for, and he isn’t going to stick around for someone like Wylan.

So Wylan leaves, and he doesn’t look behind him as he closes the door.

#wesper #inspired by the tweet about what kit said about their first meeitng #wesper drabble #wesper ficlet #wesper fanfic #wylan hendriks #wylan van eck #jesper fehey #shadow and bone #six of crows #shadow and bone fanfiction #Jazzy writes #jazzy writes fanfic #a drabble for your troubles?

[wormdebut]

17

Hi there anon! Thank you for your number! #17 on my Spotify Wrapped is 18+ by Scene Queen. This song is actually very fucking personal to me. I won't go into detail but fuck shitty dudes in shitty rock bands doing shitty things. ON THAT NOTE this blurb is truly a bunch of Steve being heart eyes at his rockstar husband but TW for mention of shitty rock dudes in shitty rock bands being shitty. (NOT Eddie or Corroded Coffin whatsoever) Nothing is explicit but take care of yourselves always. ----

"No. I don't care if it's true or not, Steph! The second some shitty fucking allegations come out like that? They're off my fucking tour. No questions asked. If someone says Greg fucked around then I'm sure as hell, not keeping him around long enough for it to happen again."

Steve hadn't planned on waking up to Eddie screaming down the line to his manager, but alas--such is the life of a being a rock god's husband. Steve runs his hand over his eyes and zeroes in on Eddie pacing their hotel room.

"--multiple allegations Stephanie! No way in hell. They're just the opening act. I'll talk to the guys, we will extend our set. I'll talk to Chrissy and she'll extend her act too. Call that asshole's manager and tell them that we are dropping them." Eddie huffs and Steve isn't entirely sure what's going on but Eddie is red with anger.

"Baby." Steve breathes out, just to let Eddie know he's joined the land of the living. Eddie head snaps over to look at Steve, and he smiles--it's a small thing, but it makes Steve's insides feel all warm and fuzzy, cause even when Eddie is so clearly fuming Steve can help him feel at least a little bit better.

Eddie sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, I got so heated Steph, just take care of this, please? I want them off the tour. Yeah okay--alright. Yeah--" Eddie laughs, "Sure, Steph, I'll tell him. Okay. Thank you. Talk soon." Eddie pulls out his airpod and throws it on the table.

"You know you'll lose 'em if you don't put them back in the case like a normal sane person, baby." Steve says, as he sits up in bed.

Eddie walks over to him and burys his face into Steve's neck. "I'm not a normal sane person, princess." Eddie mumbles from his hiding spot and Steve runs a hand through his hair.

"So…" Steve starts, "did you wanna--talk about whatever that was?" Eddie groans into Steve neck before pulling back.

"I fucking hate shitty ass rock dudes being fucking gross as hell and I won't allow gross ass shitty ass nasty ass posers anywhere near our fan base." Eddie spits and Steve just nods. Eddie continues, "Our opener? A bunch of fucked up shit came out about them and I refuse to let bullshit like that anywhere near the space that Corroded Coffin has crafted over ten fucking years."

Steve can't help but smile at that. Eddie prided himself on creating a place where his fans could be themselves, go to a concert and feel safe. He felt ridiculously proud of his husband. He says as much and Eddie scoffs--not at Steve, he knows, but he scoffs all the same.

"I appreciate that babydoll, but it's not about me. It's about keeping people safe." Eddie says and Steve nods. He's still proud of him, regardless.

——

Steve stands backstage watching as Eddie's best friend finishes up her set and feels arms wrap around his waist. He smiles leaning back into Eddie's (very naked--aside from a leather harness) chest and Eddie plants a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

"God, what if I just stay here and hold you all night instead of performing." Eddie whispers into Steve ear and while that does sound tempting--

"I don't think this very sold out venue of metal heads would be too pleased with me." Steve looks up and fuck, his rock star husband is the prettiest. He leans up to press a quick kiss to his lips. He can't get over this morning, how quick Eddie was to drop a shitty band without a second thought to keep people safe.

Steve turns around in Eddie's arms and wraps his arms around him, squeezes.

"I'm proud of you Eds. I'm always fucking proud of you, but thanks for keeping these people's scene as safe as you can."

Eddie looks at him, with stars in his kohl-lined eyes. "I love you baby, you know that right?"

Steve leans up to kiss him again. "Yeah, darling, I know. And I love you."

Eddie kisses him one more time before stepping back, just in time for Chrissy to come running from the stage. She looks from Eddie to Steve and then back to Eddie with a big manic grin. "The crowd is fucking nuts tonight Eds. You gonna say something?"

Eddie smirks at that. "Of course I am. If I'm not screaming lyrics, I'm screaming about something else." They all laugh at that and the stage lights go dark, Eddie leans down again to plant a kiss to Steve's temple, whispering a quick 'love you', before heading out to the stage.

Chrissy grabs a water bottle and leans back against a beam to watch Eddie and the band from side stage with Steve, like they do every night.

After the opening song Eddie surveys the screaming crowd.

"You sound fucking amazing Orlando. But, before we get into this next song I have something I need to fucking say--If you ever see shitty ass rock dudes in shitty ass rock bands asking you to show them your tits for backstage passes, I want you to spit right in their fucking faces and yell FUCK YOU!"

The crowd goes wild as Eddie preaches about safety in the scene and Steve can't help but fucking grin. He's pretty damn proud of his man.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie blurb #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #bonus points if you can tell me who said the OG fuck shitty ass rock dudes in shitty ass rock bands #i think he is a fucking legend #worm brain #Worm Spotify Series

[iamthecomet]

#oh THAT'S a thought#Dew visiting Ifrit and Zephyr's pillars#telling them about his day#about the new ghouls

EXCUSE YOU??????

In relation to this post and the incredible art by @floating-goblin-art (let me know if you don't want to be tagged in this and I'll fix it ♥), and my subsequent tags. Sorry Mal, I have a lot of thoughts about it.

Maybe they're not actually in there. Maybe they are. Maybe they're just stone. Monuments. Like graves. Not actual ghouls encased in whatever salt. That would be better. But Dew, honestly doesn't know. He was broken when it happened. Irreparably he thought. Sometimes he still thinks so. Especially on days when he wakes with a migraine, or an ache so deep in his bones he is sure it will never leave.

They're hidden away in a back room in the Abbey basement. Behind a door no one ever keeps locked. Maybe as a reminder in case anyone stumbles on them--this is what happens if you fail.

Dew still doesn't know why he isn't one of them. How he and Mountain and Aether escaped this fate and Ifrit and Zephyr didn't. They were all summoned by the same papa, in the same few weeks. It doesn't make sense, and trying to figure it out just makes Dew's head pound. It doesn't matter anyway. What matters is that Ifrit and Zephyr are in this dark room with Alpha and Pebble, and the first air ghoul who must have had a name but Dew never learned it. They're with Omega. Dew tries not to look at Omega--his face drawn towards grief and horror. Dew doesn't like to think about what he must have seen. Instead, he sits on the floor at Ifrit and Zephyr's feet. They're together. Close. There is something like resignation on Zephyrs face, acceptance. Ifrit, on the other hand, is frozen mid yell.

Dew can barely stand to look at him.

The floor is cold beneath his legs as he settles in. He leans his head against Ifrit's leg. Cold and solid and foreign in a way that makes his chest catch. It never gets easier. He keeps doing it anyway. He imagines warmth. Conjures some of his own just to make it feel real. He thinks of Ifrit reaching down to pet his hair. Of Zephyr sitting next to him, carding bitter tears off of his face with their thumb. "They summoned new ghouls today," Dew starts. Voice thin and wavering. He opens his eyes but doesn't look up. He encases himself in memory. Pretends they can hear him--all of them. But especially these two. "They're ok. I guess. Nice enough. Got a multi-ghoul this time so that's something. He's pretty too--Ifrit would be all over him." Dew's heart aches.

"We're going on tour soon so I won't be back for a while. But I promise I'll tell you everything about it when I get home." Dew always runs out of things to say before he's ready to leave. He presses his face against Ifrit's stony knee, reaches a hand up to brush over Zephyr's fingers. He closes his eyes, breathes them in like he hopes he can still catch the faint smell of them. Ginger and Snow. All he smells is salt and ash. "Miss you."

#comet writes #this was just supposed to be thoughts and it became almost a ficlet #oops #dew angst #dewdrop ghoul #ghoul thoughts #comet canons #Mal ♥

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Forever Home Masterlist (2)

part one

and the house becomes a home again (ao3) - BLUEGREYKIM

Summary: Dan’s plane lands at one-thirty-two AM (he’s been tracking the flight since it took off, and his stomach’s been flipping with jitters since Dan’s phone switched to aeroplane mode and his texts stopped going through).

Two and a half months, since Dan's been home, and Phil has been going crazy.

(also known as the dan comes home fic)

cat bells (ao3) - N_Chu4Ever

Summary: The catboy photoshoot, except it all goes weirdly wrong because Phil accidentally bought Dan a magic cat costume off the internet. Oops.

cat bells 2: the philling (ao3) - N_Chu4Ever

Summary: Just after rewatching the first three PINOFs, a mysterious package arrives on Dan and Phil's doorstep. Inside is a new cat costume... and Phil has a slightly terrible idea.

🌸 cherry blossom 🌸 (ao3) - natigail

Summary: It had been a silly dream at first. The idea to have a cherry blossom tree in their garden they didn't even have yet. It hadn't felt like it was something that would really happen.

But it was real. Dan was watching their tree, Phil's arms around him, and hoping they would get to see its first bloom soon.

Couch Potatoes (ao3) - ahappyphil

Summary: Picking a sofa for the forever home

Curse of the Golden Pig (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Dan disapproves of some of Phil's interior design choices — and despite all the compromises they've had to make, there's still a whole lot of them in the forever home. If he finds out Phil has snuck any of them into their new bedroom, and they're off-putting enough, he'll even refuse to sleep (or do anything ... else) in the same room as them.

Phil knows his whining is mostly superficial, though — Dan really doesn't mind it as much as he makes it seem, and even just a few kisses will make his facade crumble... a flawless tactic.

Forever Home (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Phil’s wanted a dog for as long as he can remember, and now that he and Dan are moving into their new house, it’s the perfect opportunity. But there’s just one problem: Phil’s allergic to dogs.

home (ao3) - Rawritsamehh

Summary: just a little drabblely thing

home wasn't built in a day (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: “Different, though,” Phil says. He sets the glass down, prisms of light cascading out around it, and then he presses firmly into Dan’s side and speaks with a thoughtful air of bone-deep certainty. “It feels real now. Like we’ve actually finally done it.”

Words lose their way somewhere between Dan’s brain and mouth and end up sticking in his throat. Phil rarely vocalizes his feelings, rarely draws on straightforward sincerity. But here he is, calm and settled at Dan’s side, unequivocally permanent.

“Even if half the lights and plumbing are out?” Dan asks eventually.

Phil’s laugh is soft and low in his chest. “Even if.”

It's Been Years (Thirteen) (ao3) - BLUEGREYKIM

Summary: It’s been years, Dan thinks. Twelve of them, by now. Thirteen, in October. They’re in their thirteenth year. God, he’s gotten older. Less than ten years to go before he’ll have known Phil for longer than he hasn’t.

late night talking (ao3) - theloveofbees

Summary: it surely wasn’t the weirdest thing phil had caught dan doing in their thirteen years of knowing each other, but it was up there.

or it's the summer before dan's tour and they talk on the floor of their office.

made for you (ao3) - BLUEGREYKIM

Summary: Phil, in all the years he's known Dan, can tell what he's thinking with a glance, a lock of eyes. Dan, in all the years he's known Phil, is the same.

aka the fic where they have a super psychic connection and insane communicative skills (real life)

New memories (ao3) - R3ad3r1

Summary: Phil looks at their new house with a hint of sadness. Dan fixes it in the most romantic way.

On The Balcony (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: Whoever said moving to a forever home would be easy was lying.

Overheated (ao3) - kattdan

Summary: Phil's health issues

Returning home (ao3) - philsbignaturals

Summary: In which Dan returns to find a clingy Phil

Based on the selfie Dan took after returning from the European tour

Santa Buddy (ao3) - philsbignaturals

Summary: In which the boys host joint family Christmas in their forever home

Based on the Michael Bublé Santa Baby cover

summer skies (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: Dan doesn’t think Phil's left the apartment, but he redials from his recent contacts all the same, listens to the ring for a few beats before he turns back, and there he is, curled sideways on his arm on the daybed, fast asleep in the shade.

(forever home, summer 2021)

Sutures (ao3) - jerseker

Summary: Phil returns to the forever home after a week away, just in time to pull Dan out of his negative thought spiral.

Taking a Break (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Phil has a broken leg.

unpacking forever (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: Dan takes charge of the details, once they've moved in.

waking up in your arms with my mind on you and me (ao3) - natigail

Summary: On October 19th 2021, Phil wakes up first. Twelve years ago he woke up way too early, nervous for their first meeting and now they are waking up in their shared bed in their forever home. Phil allows himself to be a little sappy but it's okay because Dan easily joins him.

waking up to a dream (ao3) - vhslucky

Summary: "I missed you..." Phil mumbled against Dan's jacket, reveling in the familiarity of his smell. "I missed you more," Dan whispered warmly. Phil vehemently shook his head, "Not possible." Dan chuckled. Phil found that sound so sweet and endearing that he pulled him even closer.

with water out of sunlight (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: Whoever was last in the house has left all the doors open, and there’s light spilling down the hallway and making the white walls glow.

(Dan walks the forever home.)

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfic #phan #phanfiction #dan and phil #masterlists #foreverhome masterlist #foreverhome #fluff #moving

[hsgucci94]

Pre-show nerves

A/N: another European league tour scenario :’) hope you like it! x

masterlist

———

"Hey," Y/N softly spoke, walking into the room.

As soon as Harry Lambert saw her, he left Harry's side and walked out of the door, flashing her a smile before doing so. She walked over to where he was standing, hugging him from behind and resting her head against his back only after leaving a kiss on one of his shoulders. She couldn't reach any further than that, at least not without getting on her tiptoes.

Harry put his hands on top of hers, allowing himself to close his eyes the moment he felt her touch. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice showing how nervous he was.

"No need to thank me, H," she tightened the grip around his chest, letting him know she wouldn't let go until he wanted her to.

Harry then grabbed her hands in his and broke the hug just so he could turn around and face her. He gulped, his hands shaking a bit while holding her.

"It's okay to be nervous. It's okay to feel anxious. But those are just feelings, okay? They're temporary, and they don't define you, baby," she reminded him, while her eyes were still fixed on his.

He nodded, a small smile starting to make its way through his slightly pale countenance.

"It's just... It's Wembley, Y/N," he gulped.

"I know," she proudly smiled at him, "You played here before. Not on your own, though, but you've already been on that stage. And back then you smashed it, so I'm sure you'll do it this time as well."

"You think too highly of me, I swear,” he giggled, bringing her closer to him.

"No, I don't,” she replied, "I just know what you're capable of. And letting them all starstruck tonight is definitely something you'll do."

He nodded again, his body still a bit tense. 20 more minutes and he'd be out on that stage, facing around 60,000 people that were there just to watch him perform. Him feeling uneasy was an understanding.

"You know what we can do to calm you down?,” Y/N rose her eyebrows, and he immediately chuckled.

"Makeout session? Really?,” he replied, as if he could read her mind. They knew each other so well sometimes it did feel like the could know what the other was thinking.

"I mean, it worked back in the day, so why wouldn't it now, too?," she bit her lip. He shook his head, blushing a bit just as flashbacks came to his mind.

"We're not 20 anymore, love."

"And that's why it'll be more fun now," she giggled, "So, what'd you say?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he grabbed her hand and walked them both to the couch, making sure he sat first so that she would straddle him. "I'd have to be out of my mind to actually turn down any chance of kissing you," he murmured against her mouth, his hands now inside the back pockets of her jeans.

Y/N smiled, passing her arms around his shoulders, and pressed their lips together, making him close his eyes in pleasure. Soon their tongues were involved, making him moan mid-kiss. Ten minutes later, Jeff knocked on the door and let Harry know he had to be backstage in five, so their kissing session had to be stopped right there and then, much to their disgrace.

"Did it work?" she asked him, looking at his slightly swollen lips as she carefully passed her thumb over them.

"It always does," he smiled and kissed her on the lips one more time.

They walked hand in hand down the hallway, her caressing the front of his hand with her thumb to erase the remaining nerves she knew he was experiencing the more they approached the stage.

"Will you be watching from here?" he asked her the moment they reached their final destination.

"Of course,” she smiled at him, "If you feel extra anxious just turn around and you'll find me in this same spot."

"Thank you, love," he murmured.

He then started walking over to the stage, his back to her, but she just couldn't let him go out to the audience just like that.

"Harry?" she called him, making him turn around, "I'm so fucking proud of you."

His face lightened up, his eyes sparkling. Even from afar she could still notice the way his eyes were starting to get watery.

"I love you," he replied, blowing her a kiss.

"More, pretty boy.”

#harry styles #short story #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles prompts #harry styles stories #harrystyles #hsgucci94 #hsgucci94 imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfics #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #love on tour #love on tour scenarios

[thylacinetears]

@dronepikachu's GeminiTay Appreciation Week Day 2: Interactions with hermits

Buying Books and Bullying Bdubs

In which a tour of iBuy allows Gem to engage in her favourite activity - annoying Bdubs.

I basically never do these challenges but I love Gem and I figured I'd give it a try for once! No guarantees I'll do any more past this day - I prefer to take my time writing things. But who knows?

I'm also not sure if I'll post this to ao3, because that would mean everyone on tumblr would see my account and vice versa… But oh well. Hope you enjoy it!

~~~

"Alright, welcome to iBuy!" Impulse exclaimed with a smile. He opened the door and stepped aside. "After you."

"Thank you!" Gem replied. "I'm so glad you were able to give me a tour, I would be so lost in this place otherwise."

"Hey, anything for my upstairs neighbour. Now, the elevator is over here... What was it you needed again?"

"Just some enchanted books. My tools are looking a bit worse for wear with the latest additions to my base. I've been building up a bit of a chest monster, too!" she said, with a self-conscious laugh. "Please don't tell Pearl, she won't be happy."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Now, books are on floor 2, that's… already selected, so you don't need to spin the selector or press the button."

"So I just go in?"

"Yup! Except, oh, watch your head, it's only two blocks tall-"

"Oh, thanks for the warning. Yeah, that's a little too short for my antlers, they're at full growth at the moment."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't think about that when I designed it… I thought it just had to be tall enough for Doc and Mumbo! I can try to-"

"Oh, it's fine, I just have to duck a little. See? It's all good."

Gem ducked into the elevator and felt the bubble current bring her up. She held her hand above her head to stop her antlers from hitting the top, and then stepped out of the elevator. Impulse followed her a few seconds after, coming out of the elevator with a practiced jump.

"Ah, what good timing! Impulse, I think I may have broken your redstone," shouted a familiar voice from the other side of the room.

"Hey, Bdubs," replied Impulse, fondly shaking his head. "What have you done this time?"

"A 'Hello' might have been nice, Bdubs. Didn't your mom teach you good manners?" asked Gem in mock offence.

"Okay, sorry, sorry! Good afternoon Gem, good afternoon Impulse, can you please fix your shop, I've been trying to get it to work all morning."

"Alright, let me see. Be with you in a moment, Gem." Impulse walked over to observe his machine, and Gem sidled up to Bdubs.

"Hey, Bdubs. I have a question for you," she said, a cheeky smile forming on her face. She could sense an opportunity forming, and if there was one thing Gem was never going to do, it was miss out on an opportunity to annoy Bdubs.

"Sure, what is it?"

"So, when we talked about your height the other day, you mentioned that you sometimes count your shoes and hair in the equation. Is that correct?"

"Uh, yeah. Doesn't everyone? It's a perfectly normal thing to do."

His voice had taken on a slightly defensive tone, as it always did whenever the topic of his height was mentioned. The fact that she could faintly hear Impulse chuckling in the background probably didn't help things. Gem made sure to speak in her most innocent voice - no point getting him riled up before she could say her point.

"See, I had to be a bit careful when I was using the elevator before, as Impulse didn't quite make it tall enough for my antlers at full growth. So, I was wondering - if you count hair and shoes as part of height, you've gotta count my antlers, right?"

"Yeah, that makes sense, I guess." Bdubs looked at Gem suspiciously, but before he could say anything else he was interrupted by Impulse.

"I think I found your problem, Bdubs." Bdubs and Gem moved closer into the shop, and Impulse continued. "So, unlike the other shops, you don't actually put the diamonds in the same place as the items. You put the diamonds in this barrel here, and then get the books. You see?"

"Oh, right. Like that shop Doc and Ren had last season, I remember." Bdubs picked up three enchanted books, and grinned. "Thanks, Impulse. That's all I needed. What about you, Gem?"

"I'll just take some efficiency and unbreaking books," replied Gem, depositing her diamonds in the barrel. "It'll take me a while to get through those, I think."

"Take an extra one if you like, as a 'welcome to iBuy' gift. Anyway, what was all this I heard about what counts as height?" asked Impulse.

"Well, you said the elevator was tall enough for Doc and Mumbo. So, wouldn't that make me the tallest Hermit, counting my antlers? Right, Bdubs?"

"I mean - yeah, I guess it would..." Bdubs acknowledged.

"So, we might just have to crown Gem as the tallest Hermit, is what I'm hearing," said Impulse.

"Yeah, I think so," agreed Bdubs, nodding his head. "Hey, I could even try to get you an actual crown if you like, I'm sure I've got a spare one hanging around. I've got some experience in crowning people, y'know."

"Sure, I'd love that!" Gem smiled sweetly, and tried her best to hold in her laughter before delivering her final blow. "If you could reach my head."

"HEY!"

~~~

Hope you liked it! If you're wondering what I headcanon their heights as for this fic: Impulse is 5'7-8 ish Bdubs is 5'10, and almost 6 feet with shoes on and his hair spiked up (I think that the short jokes are even funnier when he's not actually that short!) Doc is 6'5 if you count goat horns, and 6'3 if you don't Mumbo is 6'5 Gem is 5'6, but her antlers make her 6'6 and technically the tallest hermit!

Also, Bdubs really has (jokingly) insisted that hair & shoes count as part of his height, I think it's somewhere in here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lj1iI7djozY

#geminitay appreciation week #geminitay #hermitcraft fanfic #bdoubleo100 #impulsesv #hermitcraft

[thisapplepielife]

Bang Dem Sticks

Character(s): Gareth | Word Count: 800 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Drumming, Future Fic, Gareth & Eddie are Best Friends

Takes place in the Tuesday's Gone With the Wind universe but I don't see why it can't be read as a standalone as long as you know Gareth's a drummer.

2023

Gareth sits behind his drum kit in a little studio. It's just him, several cameras, and the handful of guys behind the glass in the control room. He was invited to come do a video for a YouTube drum channel, where the concept was sold to him as a challenge where they'll play a song they think he's never heard, without the drum part. And then he has to blindly play what he thinks the drum part actually is, just to see how close he can get. 

That sounded like a fun stop on the press tour, a change of pace from the same old, same old, so he agreed. At least this involves playing the drums, instead of just talking about the new album, the new tour. Getting asked the same four questions over and over. 

This time some of the interviewers are getting brave enough to gently ask if he’s getting ready to retire. He’s not. Not yet. But that can’t be too far off. He’s almost fifty-five. He’s been on the road, nearly continuously, since he was fresh out of high school. He loves drumming, he does. But he also doesn’t want to die behind his kit on the road. He doesn’t want to die on the road, at all. He worries about that. He wants to retire, and spend the rest of his time with the people he loves most. 

If he’s gonna die behind the kit, it’s gonna be the one in Harrington House, surrounded by the people he loves. Not in a strange city, all alone. 

Not to mention, his right knee is getting to the point of needing some attention. The steroid shots are helping, but they're a short term fix. If he wants to walk into his old age, he’s probably looking at surgery. He hasn’t told Eddie that yet, because Eddie’ll fret about it. So there’s no need to worry him until it can’t be put off any longer.

So today he takes an Aleve, shows up, sits behind his kit, and lets them rig up all the cameras. Overhead, of his face, his hands, his feet. Then he waits.

When they give him the go sign, he sits up a little straighter. They play a song, and he starts playing along. He knows this one from playing with Eddie.

They try another. Eddie. 

And again.

Eddie. 

Eddie. 

Eddie. 

He finally laughs, "You're gonna hafta go newer."

He's sure they have his resume. They are clearly staying away from metal and hard rock. But crossing genres isn't enough for older songs. If it had an interesting drum part, Eddie's probably already dragged it into Hellfire Studios at some point over the years for them to play together. No matter the genre. 

"How do you know all those?" they ask through the headset, clearly a little surprised. They had a handful of songs, and he knew them all. They need to dig deeper.

Gareth just smiles. 

Eddie won't want to be named, not publicly, so Gareth just laughs and says, "I have a friend I jam with sometimes. He has very broad tastes."

They dig up something else, something newer, and it’s finally one Gareth’s never heard before. He gives them a thumbs up, and counts the time signature. It’s in 4. He listens closely. Finds the groove of the bass. Feels it. Thinks about how he’d slide in the pocket, if this was his drum part to build from scratch.

The song ends, and Gareth gives it his best shot. 

When he’s finished, they roll the playback of the full song, original drum part intact, and he realizes he wasn't that far off. He's been a drummer for over fifty years, a professional for decades, and he's just happy his ear still works. That his instinct is intact, even on modern music. Though, this was a throwback of a song if he’s ever heard one. They should have found something truly modern, if they wanted to trip him up. Not a young band that has clearly found inspiration in the 70s, in Zep and Rush. Gareth knows how that goes, lived it, a long, long time ago.

Weeks later, when the video gets posted to the YouTube channel, it sure doesn't take very long for the comments on the video to start naming Eddie as the friend.

That's okay. Eddie's certainly not scouring YouTube for videos of Gareth anyway. And it's not like Gareth was the one that ID'd him. It's no secret they still play together, that they are still best friends. 

And in three days he'll be back home, playing with Eddie again. Where he wants to be. Maybe he’ll bring this new tune home and see if Eddie can figure out the guitar part, just for fun.

The YouTube algorithm served me up this video of Chad Smith yesterday and I was like, oh, Gareth.

And here we are. It didn't really fit in with anything I have left for Wildflowers...and All the Rest, but I was inspired to write it, and thought, hey, it can just be a little standalone.

#thisapplepielife: short fic #ficlet #gareth (stranger things) #wildflowers...and all the rest #gareth fic #corroded coffin fic #gareth & eddie #stranger things fic #corroded coffin boys #corroded coffin

[beyondthegame]

omg “hugging and absentmindedly kissing their neck, resulting in mortification for one of them” for e please 🤭

"What did you and your crew eat on tour?" you ask as you take a seat on E's kitchen counter.

"A whole load of takeaways," E laughs as they take out a chopping board and slide vegetables onto it, "which is why I actually have to cook something today."

You raise a brow. "I didn't think you could cook," you tease.

E chuckles. "Says the one who plays for a football club. You have a chef, and a nutritionist," they list, "and—"

"Are you done?" you interject with a roll of your eyes. "I get your point."

"Hm," E hums, a small smile on their lips as they start chopping. "I watched your matches whilst I was away," they say after a moment.

It happens subconsciously, the smile that's gracing your lips. "All of them?" you ask.

E glances over at you. "Every single one," they answer. "Highlights mostly, but I watched. Surely you know by now that I wouldn't miss one."

Your response doesn't come straight away, and the only reason it doesn't is because you can't really place your finger on what this is between you and E. You're more than friends, sure. But it's difficult deciphering how E sees you. As someone who's fun or someone that could develop into something more serious.

"Okay," E murmurs before moving to stand in front of you. They place their hands either side of you before taking a step closer. "Go on, then. Why do you think I made sure to watch Inter City whilst I was abroad?"

Your eyes flit over E. Them being so close to you means you can point out all their features: their freckles, their dark-green/hazel eyes that can't help but shimmer at the sight of you, the visible dimple in their left cheek.

"Why don't you be a darling and tell me?" you utter in a low voice.

E looks at you with hooded eyes. In smooth and small movements their fingers rhythmically taps against the outside of your thighs. Their hands go around your hips and waist before resting on the small of your back.

They pull you that bit closer and lean forward. E's lips part, their hot breath is on your face, that infectious smile is on their mouth as they look to close the gap.

E closes their eyes and you follow. Your hand goes over their chest, and even though they're one of the most confident people you know, it's nice to feel E's heart thundering under your palm. Maybe they do feel the same way you do.

They wet their lips before brushing them against yours. "I watched because..."

You're positive E's going to kiss you, you even lean upwards to close the gap but they swerve to the side and place a kiss on your jaw instead.

A frustrated groan escapes you and you feel E chuckle against your neck. "You're a tease," you huff.

"But a good one," E's laughs against you before scattering their kisses over your neck. "I watched your matches because I missed you," they eventually admit, whilst tightening their grip around you.

E presses another kiss against you. "I watched because I like seeing the smile on your face when you win." And then there's another kiss. You can tell E's determined to get a sound out of you. "I watched because I fucking—"

"E, get your hands off my player," you hear a strong voice say from across the room.

You can both tell who it is which is the exact reason as the why you can feel heat rapidly rushing to your cheeks. It's the embarrassment of E's dad, who happens to be your manager, catching you together.

E takes a wide step back, the remains of a smile are still on their face before they turn to their dad. "Sorry," they say sheepishly before clearing their throat. "You know you could knock on the door... or ring the doorbell. I even have an intercom," E utters.

Their dad scoffs. "I just came back because I forgot my keys, but you're definitely right." Javier arches a brow before glancing over at you. "I'll see you at training tomorrow?"

"Yes!" you exclaim whilst slipping off the counter. "You will... obviously." You're rambling now, that's evident and you're sure you're palms are sweaty from both embarrassment and E's effect on you.

Javier picks up his keys from the hook before looking over at E. "And I'll see you for dinner later." He points to the chopping board. "You know, if you actually get dinner cooked at this rate considering that is what you were not doing."

E quickly strides across the room and puts their hands on their dad's shoulders. "Okay, okay! You're making this very, very awkward. Please leave. I love you and I'll see you later. But pleaseee go." They start steering Javier down the hallway and back to the front door.

As the door clicks shut you hang your head back and sigh because... the rest of the week is going to be very strange for you and E now.

#drabble #e acevedo #mila 🤝 long drabbles sorry asdhbf #because I haven't mentioned it before E's dad is named Javier #this is embarrassing however E's dad actually likes the idea of E and mc soo sorta cute #nikka 🫶🏼

[elvisabutler]

all the angst regarding austin x priscilla actress!reader has me thinking… how would the press tour + vogue photo shoots etc etc go between them? in your head are they back together by then?

i'm working on like ten different things and i already answered the vogue part kind of in another ask that actually came in after this one. but! i actually wanted to address the rest of this. tw: sexual mentions, arguably what comes close to an anxiety attack maybe? possessiveness to a degree?

so consider! maybe they are. in my head, they're back together come cannes. post cannes for sure. but maybe you know they aren't. maybe i've got an au where they are and maybe i've got one where they aren't. but we're- for the importance of this ask and not ally au's this au into like a billion other au's- assuming that yes. they are. and they are. well it's complicated.

the first part of the press tour, the part before it's actually really a press tour officially, the met and cannes are a mess. the met is spent with you wanting to avoid austin because that's what you've been doing minus the phone calls and the texts and the blocking his number because he called you drunk because you had the audacity to go on a date and wear a dress and got fucked. badly, but you got fucked.

except you're supposed to do your job and what do you always tell yourself. you're professionals. so you get close and lean in when cameras are flashing and austin's hand ignites a shiver in your body when it's just sitting on your back. "you cold, little dove?" is all that gets murmured in your ear before you shudder once more. and there's a closet ( that i used for another fic ) and you walk him in there by the wrist and you leave in the same car.

"i don't want to go to bed with you unless you're there in the morning, lil dove." "i'll be there in the morning."

not all mornings, but that next morning. except you scare him half to death when he wakes up and you're not there because you're grabbing your pjs or something from your own room. when you come back he's herding you to the bed and just peppering you with kisses. you're both a little emotional and it's- it makes it so you don't talk to him again until cannes. you think maybe it's been fixed but he doesn't call you either and you're so horrible at asking for what you want that you just let it sit. or at least if you talk it's not about what happened. and it's probably over text.

except now you're so touch starved because you got a taste of him again that he spends half the photocall trying not to touch you for fear of your reaction and the other half of it and everything else actively making sure he's got some form of hand on you.

that night though? that night the dam breaks. you try and not call him, because you can do this. you can be fine without him. you are fine without him but this is the most he's touched you and all you literally want is him. that's all you've honestly wanted for a year because you've missed him. not just daddy. you've missed austin who'd take pictures of you and tell you how beautiful you'd look in the bath with bubbles all around. you've missed daddy who always made sure you were clean after sex even if "it's fine, daddy you're just gonna dirty me up again.".

so you call. you're on your bed, curled up into yourself as much as you can be and you call. maybe in some universes he doesn't pick up. but in this one, he does.

"dove?" silence because he's calling you dove and what are you doing calling him like this. "i can hear you breathing, little dove." a sniffle then. "talk to me, dove, don't- be a good girl and talk, baby." the sniffle has turned into a soft cry until. "daddy i'm sorry. can i please come to your room, please. i know everyone will see me but i need to see you."

austin doesn't say anything for a long while and you're not paying attention to the noise in the background. "you're not leaving your hotel room, little dove." and you start to fully sob swallowing the pleas that threaten to spill out before you hear a knock on your door. "open up. i'm not letting anyone see you like this."

you make up after that. there's issues with the vogue shoot, none really for the vman shoot but every other press event? he's handing you water bottles, food, has his hand on you somehow in every single second. you two wasted enough time for the year-ish you were separated. why waste more now? you start going to therapy. so does he. you go together.

he asks you to marry him at the end of the press tour. it should feel rushed and you almost pass out when he asks. "i like a courthouse better than vegas, daddy."

maybe you do both.

#austin butler x priscilla actress reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #this is what i was working on before my body reminded me caffeine and naps are note equal. it was a good nap though. so no complaints.

[narratingvoice]

Have you ever sat down and thought about how David Cage is allowed to like. Write games. Like they’re not even good but he keeps getting the money to write them. What kind of story would you make if you had that kind of budget?

David Cage?? You come into my inbox and you talk to me about David Cage???? Well at least you have the correct opinion. You are being very generous to call his writing "not even good". It is drivel of the highest order; pretentious and self-absorbed, practically turning to the camera and shouting "Look at me, I'm an auteur!" It's as though he's terribly interested in being perceived as a purveyor of enlightened wisdom about the human condition, but without actually doing the hard work of having anything meaningful to say. Thus we get ham-fisted racism allegories written by someone who's never experienced any sort of discrimination in his life. You get serious emotional choices distilled down into mindless quick time events that give you no room to contemplate the implications of your decision before making it. I don't even think he likes games at all, and is under the impression that he is making Oscar bait movies that happen to include some button presses. Honestly, what kind of person is that desperate for attention?

To answer your first question, yes, I think about it all the time. You know Heavy Rain won a BAFTA for its story? The game that lets you do this, undercutting the gravity of the situation entirely? What a farce! In fact, I'll let you in on a little secret: seeing the way that game unfolded was a major impetus for me to finish the first draft of the Parable. That is because I played half of it and thought, surely I can write better than this. I find spite to be a powerful motivator, and I simply could not let my own genius go unpublished when this melodramatic nonsense was out there getting accolades.

And yet Cage keeps going! They're giving this man a Star Wars game? One of the most famous and beloved franchises of the century?! And I have to sit here and remake my first game because it's all I can afford to do on an indie budget. If I had a AAA studio at my beck and call you can bet things would be different around here. My story wouldn't be set in an office building, no no no, it would be a far more expansive setting, taking the player on a mystical journey through a mysterious ruined world. But not like in an open world way, heavens no. Like in a way where I am your tour guide showing you the rich worldbuilding I have concocted, and presenting players with the opportunity to meaningfully affect the fate of the entire planet. If they make the correct choices, that is. :) And I'd have ray tracing and a full orchestral soundtrack. And I'd have tons of NPCs and I'd hire the finest actors of our generation to play them: Dev Patel as the deposed king; Lupita Nyongo as the hardened general sending her troops to war; Tim Allen as a sinister wizard. You will fall in love with every character and have your heartstrings pulled when you are forced to- oops! Spoilers!

Oh, and if I was making a Star Wars game I'd want to take the franchise in new and bold directions. Instead of rehashing the same old Jedi vs Sith conflict, my story would focus on the plight of the droids. I think they're treated terribly throughout the series and they should probably go on some kind of uprising to get revenge on the mortals who treat them like tools. People like robot vs human stories, right? Ah, but this is all a pipe dream. In truth, I'm happy here in the little piece of art that I made. It is not exactly what I wanted it to be when I wrote it, but it is mine to be proud of.

#the stanley parable #tsp #ask blog #reply #[[sorry if you like david cage idk much about him]]

[lesbian-deadpool]

At Worlds End

Iron Man 2

Part Two: From Legal

Words: 3,126

Warnings: Canon... that’s p much it.

Summary: You’re infatuated with a woman you just met. And apparently so has Tony. Yeah... this was gonna go well.

A/N: She’s here! She’s finally here!

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not my pics)

---

You had taken a few days to gather yourself.

Staying in one of tony's guest rooms, that he had called "yours".

Speaking of the heroic billionaire. He had been bugging you to tell him about what had happened while you were on tour.

The feeling of guilt was unnecessary, but still previewing when you told him the same as everyone else. That you were captured, tortured, then rescued as you were trying to escape. The absolute minimal.

You knew, deep down, that you didn't have to tell anyone anything. And you wholly believed that.

Yet you still felt bad hiding things from him, even though you knew he would understand.

But you couldn't tell him what they had done to your body.

Not now.

Not yet.

However, everything was altered. There was still an intense familiarity surrounding your life now. You felt at peace. And for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

Luckily, you had other things to focus on, other than yourself.

Tony had relinquished his position as CEO of 'Stark Industries' and had turned it over to Pepper Potts.

So, you were helping out wherever you could with that.

But you didn't know anything about businesses and the procedures they took. So, instead, you mostly found yourself training with Tony. Or rather, making excuses to actually train with the man, to take up a seat watching him. Lucky enough for you, he assumed that your reluctance was because of PTSD, thanks to your last tour. Whereas, that may be somewhat true, it wasn't the main reason why.

And watching the man as he fought with his "bodyguard" Happy, in his own boxing ring, was what you found yourself doing currently.

You spotted something out of the corner of your eye -still not used to how clear you could see from the corner of your eyes-, turning, you spotted Pepper entering the gym.

"You got a guest, Tony!"

"The notary's here!"

"Make that two guests!" you called to the hooded man, correcting yourself.

"Can you please come sign the transfer paperwork?"

"I'm on happy time," Tony said as Pepper walked past where you sat upon the bench press the sounds of the man's gloved hands hitting their padded targets.

It didn't take you long to follow Pepper towards the white seats.

"Hey, Pepper."

"Y/N." The blonde watched as you sat down with a small grunt. Resting one of your ankles over your knee as you leaned back into your seat, looking up at the still-standing woman. "You not participating today?"

You shook your head. "Nah. Still not ready to get into the swing of things."

Still not ready to admit the truth.

"Well, now you can take all the time you need. You never have to fight ever again if you don't want to."

"That's true." Taking a breath, you decided to change the subject, "So, where's the notary?"

"She wasn't too far behind me. She'll be here any second. Just wanted to come and let Tony know beforehand."

"Still can't wipe the, you being his assistant out, huh?"

"Give it time. It'll be a welcome release."

The gym rang with the sound of your humoured laughter, along with the sound of skin being hit.

Peering over at the two men boxing, you watched as happy scolded his boss.

"Sorry."

"What the hell was that?"

"It's called mixed martial arts," Tony explained off, hopping on the spot, "It's been around for three weeks now."

"It's called dirty boxing. There's nothing new about it."

"Play nice boys," you called to the two, turning back to Pepper to utter, "They're both children."

"And you have to deal with them more than I do now."

"Shit."

"All right, put them up. Come on."

Just like the two sparing men, you were captivated by the sudden appearance of the fore-talked-about notary.

"My God," Pepper whispered to herself, having a clear view of the three of your faces, just staring at the woman.

For the first time since coming home, you were thankful for how much you had changed.

All because of this woman.

The woman that you had just seen for the very first time.

Even from where you sat, you could tell her eyes were green. Darker under the bright lights of the gym she had just entered. But you could just tell, under the right circumstances, they would shine like pale green leaves in the summer.

You wondered if the beautiful hue's of her dark auburn hair was her natural colour, judging by the tone of her eyebrows, you could assume that it was.

With full lips and a blemish that somehow enhanced her beauty, you finally released the deep breath you hadn't even known you had taken.

The stunning stranger was dressed smartly. Black dress pants that rested above her shapely hips, large belt securing them in place. And the tight, short-sleeved, white shirt buttoned up to her accentuated chest. Letting you and everyone else know, what she knew what she had, and wasn't afraid to show it.

However, you did have a fear that the button she had secured over her chest would snap off and go flying.

Hoping that if that did happen it would hit Tony in the face because you thought that would be funny.

It had felt like long, drawn-out minutes had passed with you studying the woman across the room from you, when in reality, it was only seconds, at the most.

"I promise you this is the only time I will ask you to sign over your company," Pepper called over to Tony, whose eyes were still on the red-head -just as yours were-. Trying to prompt the man into pausing his training for a few mear minutes.

The woman had made her way over as the blonde spoke, opening the thick black-bound file that you had not noticed before. Once she was standing beside the woman who was to be the new CEO of Stark Industries.

It was only when she was up close that you could tell, even with her black heels, she was still short.

Much smaller than the woman by her side.

You could only imagine how much you would tower over her.

You had been around Pepper's height when you had first gotten to know her. Protected her. And helped her blow up the giant arc reactor that ended up killing Obadiah Stane all those months ago.

But now?

After everything that had happened.

After you had "drank all your milk" like Tony had said and grown almost half afoot.

You could only predict how much taller than her you would be.

'For the love of God', you thought to yourself, 'don't fuck it up and make a joke about her being a Borrower'

The two women shared a tight, friendly smile that strangers do when forced to interact with one another.

You had to close your eyes and turn you down and away from the two when you first heard her talking.

It was like everything about this woman was created to toy with you.

It was insane how taken with her you were already, and she hadn't even spoken a single word to you.

You didn't even know her name.

"I need you to initial each box," she said, handing a pen over to Pepper.

Vaguely, you heard happy speaking, lesson one. Never take your eye off-"

The man was cut off by his own heavy grunt, a loud clattering of his back colliding with the padded corner of the ring, causing you to raise your head from where it was nestled in your hand. Looking over just in time to watch Tony ring the bell and pick up his water bottle, which was not filled with water.

"Be gentle, Tony," you chastised the man playfully, smile upon your lips, "You know Happy's fragile." You couldn't help but snort when he shot you an insulted glare.

"That's it. I'm done," Happy stated.

"Just because you lost!"

"What's your name, lady?" the billionaire called over to the notary, pointing a gloved hand towards her.

"Rushman. Natalie Rushman."

Well, at least now you knew her name.

"Front and centre," he continued, pointing into the boxing ring, "Come into the church."

That was all the initiative you needed to jump up to your feet, waving your hand's in denial at then man.

"Absolutely not."

Pepper, the rational-minded one, agreed with you. Voicing her own refusal on Natalie's behalf.

"No. You're seriously not gonna ask-"

"If it pleases the court, which it does."

"Uh, I'm not pleased. You can't just ask a stranger to-"

"It's no problem."

"Really?" you asked in indignation, looking around your shoulder at the woman, now beginning to make her way over to the ring.

With you following too far behind. Something in you telling you that you had to make sure she stayed safe. You weren't about to let them start boxing if she had no experience if you could help it.

"I'm sorry. He's very eccentric."

Natalie placed the file upon the blue edge of the ring. Before stepping up and manoeuvring herself under and through the ropes. To stand before the man guzzling his dark drink down.

"What?"

"I don't think she said anything there, big guy," you told him. Stepping up onto the edge of the ring, arms resting over the top rope, leaning into it as you watched the interaction.

"Can you, uh, give her a lesson?" he asked Happy, moving to exit the ring next to you.

"No problem."

"Uh, yes, problem."

"Come on, she'll be fine," Tony muttered, tapping your shoulder, indicating for you to follow him.

But you really didn't want to.

However, as he hopped down from the raised ring, his fingers, which were now tangled in the fabric of your T-shirt, pulled you down with him. Giving you no choice in the matter.

Tony jogged up to Pepper, leaving you to stroll behind him.

"Who is she?" the sweaty man asked as he squeezed into the chair beside Pepper, allowing you to take up your vacated seat once more.

"She is from legal. And she is potentially a very expensive sexual harassment lawsuit if you keep ogling her like that."

"Oh, no. Look's like I'm the only one who gets to flirt with her then. Shame."

Pepper pointed over to you sternly.

"The same goes for you."

"I'm not a part of the company."

"Then you have a chance at serving jail time."

"I need a new assistant, boss," Tony suddenly spoke up. After dramatically switching the way his legs were crossed to match the way Pepper was sitting, "I need a new assistant."

"Yes, and I've got three excellent potential candidates. They're lined up and ready to meet you."

You couldn't help but keep watch over the red-head and Happy as he gestured her towards him and consequently further into the ring. As she peered over to your small seated group, eyes set on Tony.

You just hoped it was because she wanted to do her job.

Another thing you couldn't help? The small laughter that shook your shoulders at the way her pants swam around her now bare feet.

"I don't have time to meet. I need someone now. I feel like it's her."

"No, it's not," Pepper told the man, as he purposefully looked away, the blonde raising from her phone.

"If that means I have more chance to make her fall for me, I'm down."

"Would you two just stop?"

"You ever boxed before?"

"I have, yes," Natalie replied to happy, nodding her head proudly.

"What, like, the 'Tae Bo'? 'Booty Boot Camp'? 'Crunch'? Something like that?"

"Don't worry," you called over, after hearing the words he meant as insults, "With any one of those, you can easily kick his ass!"

"And yet, you're too scared to actually fight me yourself," he mumbled to himself and the red-head.

"Happy, I'd end up killing you."

"How can you even hear us over here, never mind that?!"

"I have ears like a hawk!"

"How do I spell your name, Natalie?" Tony asked now.

"R-U-S-H-M-A-N," she spelt out for the man as he clapped his still gloved hands, and suddenly the glass table sitting beside both chairs lit up.

"What, are you gonna Google her, now?"

"Oh, snooping," you turned at Pepper's words, leaning over the table to get a better look at what Tony was pulling up.

"Hmm? I thought I was ogling her."

"You're both as bad as each other."

"You should know this by now."

Tony was swiping through the pages of her professional life, but as soon as the very first one was glanced at then shot off to the side, you reached forward, pulling it towards you. Reading the 'stats' next to her picture.

'Height: 5'6 1/2"'

Glimpsing over your shoulder with tensed brows, taking in her stance, as her back was turned to you.

That's a lie.

'Eyes: Blue'

Also, a lie.

"Did that just say Havard Law?" you asked, looking up at the man in front of you. After momentarily seeing the words fly by.

"It did," he replied in an almost mumble, still swiping, scanning through the information upon the pages, "Oh, wow. Very, very, impressive an individual."

"You're so predictable, you know that?"

'Someone's jealous', you thought to yourself, peering up at Pepper with widened eyes before they returned back to the documents at hand, finally noticing what lay below them.

"What are those pictures?"

You got no verbal reply as the two continued bickering on, like an old married couple. Now knowing how Rhodey felt when you asked if they were a couple when you had brought Tony home.

However, Tony did reply to your question by tapping upon one of the pictures. Pulling it up, along with many others.

"Holy shit," you whispered, studying the many poses the beautiful woman was in.

"She's fluent in French, Italian, Russian, Latin. Who speaks Latin?" Tony asked, looking over to the blonde by his side.

"No one speaks Latin. It's a dead language."

"Well, she obviously does," you said, before your voice turned breathless, taking in the picture that Tony had just maximized, "Holy fucking shit."

You almost forgot how to breathe with the sight in front of you. But you, apparently, still had enough brain function for you to be able to reach over and use three of your fingers to spin the photo to face you. Which didn't help your predicament. If anything, it heightened it.

Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to be infatuated with the red-head and see her in black lingerie, all on the very first day you had met her.

"You can read Latin, or you can write Latin, but you can't speak Latin-""I'm gonna marry her one day," you stated, mostly to yourself.

"Did you model in Tokyo?" Tony had cut Pepper off, just as you spoke, "'Cause she modelled in Tokyo."

"Well... Pepper replied, unimpressed by the man.

"I need her. She's got everything that I need."

"Rule number one, never take your eye off your opponent."

Your eyes widened dramatically at Happy's cocky words, spinning in your seat to face the two standing in the ring once again. Calling over, with your arm raised in their direction, "Don't!"

However, as it seems, you needn't had wasted your breath.

Watching as Natalie spun herself to face the man about to jab her with his gloved hand. Quickly grasped it before he could, pulling it down so that crunching crack could be heard through the air, followed by the mans small, pained grunt. Flipping in the air in such a way that she was able to wrap her legs around his head. Flipping them both over so that Happy landed firmly on his back. A much louder groan sounded from him now at the collision. Whilst Natalie held him down by the arm, knees still around his throat.

"Oh, my God!"

"Whoa!"

"Yes!" the three of you sounded with you jumping up in celebration, fists clenched, and tensed up in front of you.

"Happy."

"You got your ass kicked," you finished off from Pepper's worried tone, yours full of amusement. While you made your way to the two.

Quickly hopping up at the edge of the ring and leaning against the ropes just as you were a few minutes prior.

"That's what you get for trying to hit the girl, who you thought didn't have any "real" training, while her back was turned," of course, putting 'real' in quotation marks. As the man moved from fearfully glaring at Natalie to fully glaring at you and his surroundings.

"That's what I'm talking about."

"I just slipped," Happy tried to excuse.

"The only thing that "slipped" is your ego."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

He couldn't even stand up straight as Tony rang the bell, and Natalie exited the ring. Getting back to work.

"Looks like a TKO to me."

"I need your impression," Natalie told the man, reaching into the ring, grasping at the file she had brought with her.

"You have a quiet reserve," his words took on more of a questioning tone, "I don't know. You have an old soul."

"My impression is that you're a fuckin' badass," you voiced, jumping down from the ring, huffing slightly at the impact.

"I meant your fingerprint," the red-head clarified.

"Right."

"My point still stands."

Heels clicked across the floor, notifying you that a smiling Pepper was headed towards the two. As Tony pressed his finger -well, thumb- print onto the file, held open by Natalie Rushman.

"So, how are we doing?"

"Great. Just wrapping up. Hey." He jabbed his finger next to the drying ink. "You're the boss."

"Will that be all, Mr Stark?" Natalie asked, throwing her hair back over her shoulder with a flip of her head.

"Yes."

"No," Pepper and Tony said at the same time. The blonde won out to continue.

"That will be all, Ms Rushman. Thank you very much."

Natalie nodded to the woman, then took her leave, plucking up her discarded heels before she left the room. Going none the wiser to you rising a hand in goodbye.

"I want one."

"No."

"Way to treat women like objects, man."

Tony rose a finger at you. "Let me correct myself. I want her. As my assistant."

"It'd make more sense if you had her as your bodyguard," you said, ignoring the burning feeling of Happy's glare on the back of your head as you still watched the empty door she had walked through.

Two things.

One: For a guy named 'Happy', he sure did glare a lot.

And two: You were already so whipped for this woman.

---

At Worlds End Tag List: 

@nicomcu, @underoostarks​, @soft-emo-witch

Permanent Tag List: 

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro, @thelastavenger-3000, @mixed-fandom-mess, @wannabe-fic-reader, @vancityfire13, @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday, @007giu, @fayhar, @xxromanoffxx​,

SFW Tag list: 

@peggycarter-steverogers, @natalia-quinzel,

#original work #original fanfiction #original series #at worlds end iron man 2 #at worlds end series #at worlds end #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark #pepper potts x reader #pepper potts imagine #pepper potts #marvel #MCU

[limenysnocket]

Salsa Lessons

Summary: Let's take a break... to go on vacation. Since Taika is a snowflake and can't handle the cold, take a trip down south to Puerto Rico!

Pairing: Taika Waititi x Reader

Warnings: SMUT-- oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, dom Taika, a little bit of degradation, swearing, alcohol, (slight) public sex. 18+ ;)

A/N: One last baecation before I disappear again, and I know this'll be good. I KNOW THIS IS LATE. Like... late LATE. Forgive me.

@honorarytenenbaum @olyvoyl @whatwememeintheshadows @mrtommyshelby @dandywaititi

•○●•○●•○●•

"MY FACE IS ON FIRE!" Taika was panting and fanning his burning cheeks. The moms running the stand you both went to were cackling at him.

It had been a day since you both landed in Puerto Rico, and after sleeping off the jet lag and trying some of the fine dining, the first thing to do was explore the city, San Juan, from start to finish. Coincidentally, you both walked right into the outdoor market area, where fresh produce was being bought and sold everywhere. That's when Taika, the jackass, got ballsy and decided to try a pepper from one of the stands. He had been warned.

Oh well... guess you can see how that went.

To make up for the commotion caused, you bought a pineapple and a papaya from the same stand, as well as a couple of exquisitely bottled cokes. Taika was consoled, given a bit of coconut milk, and sent right back down the boardwalk. That was the first and last time he tried a freebie from a pepper stand. He was complaining about how his tongue felt (you would have thought that might make him get a little quieter and talk less), and he didn't stop until half of his bottled soda was gone. He sort of forgot about the pain after that and started looking for souvenirs.

You began your walk with him at eight in the morning, sharp. It was near noon by the time you were finished, and Taika had two big bags of fruits and veggies, exotic jewelry, tour maps, and trinkets. You were starving, and, more than once, tried to steal a kiwi from his bags but he would always manage to catch you and slap your hand away.

"They're for later!" He'd say that or make up a different excuse each time.

Taika wasn't neglectful of your hunger, in the end. He took you to a nearby restaurant after doing some searching on his phone and dropping the bags off back at the hotel room.

The restaurant was quaint, but vibrant at the same time. There were colors, dancers, and live music played on a little wooden stage just meters away. Ordering was fine, but it took some time for Taika.

"I've never seen so many things with pineapple in it! And it's not pizza, so it's bound to be good!" He seemed so excited for the food. It made you happy, but you eventually had to pick for him since the waiter was getting tired of actually having to wait.

"I have something special planned for tonight!" Taika exclaimed, the alcoholic drink of his choice being waved around in his hand. You were already reaching for the napkins, afraid he was going to spill something.

So now he tells you...

"Should I be concerned?" your first question came out with ease.

"Honey, if it's anything with me, you should always be concerned," he was smug, but the look on your face told him he needed to fix his wording. "BUT! Uhm... No, no you shouldn't be concerned about where I'm taking you. It's going to be a blast, I promise!"

"Better not be lying, Taik," you warned, and he just started to grin. That made you nervous, but you put the feeling on hold when the food came out.

Two bowls of Asopao de Pollo were placed in front of you and Taika, and they were devoured briefly in the span of thirty minutes. Extra time was added because Taika decided to add hot sauce to his. 'It's to add a kick,' he said. Yeah, whatever.

The rest of the afternoon was spent snacking, and checking out the more historical side of Puerto Rico. Abandoned forts, old canons, battle fields, you name it. It was truly a blast, even when Taika became cocky around one of the forts you visited.

It was at the Sitio Histórico de San Juan when things got... touchy. You were with a group of people, and you and Taika decided to linger around the back so if something interesting was spotted, you wouldn't have to move immediately. Little did you know, Taika was devising a, "ditch the tour guide and go make out somewhere," kind of plan.

Much to your demise, and to your pleasure, the plan worked. The tour guide hardly noticed the two of you disappear down an unknown corridor and push yourselves deep into a dark corner.

The smell was wet, ancient, and dank. Taika had you pressed up against one of the concrete walls while his hands worked their magic, lifting up the hem of your shirt and immediately grasping for your bra. You let him squeeze and grip through the fabric of it and press his body so close to yours, the waistband of his shorts was rubbing a red line across the skin of your stomach.

Your legs trembled while you completely forgot about the tour itself and your fingers started to run through his curly hair. Taika's thigh was moving to be between both of yours and he started to slowly rub the top of his against your clothed cunt. Slowly. Achingly slow.

Whimpers of his name and the sound of your tongue mixing echoed along the dank walls, and whimpers turned to moans, and moans turned into garbled sentences when his hand sunk into your underwear and sought out your clit. You tried to warn him, this was a bad idea. You could be noticed missing from the group and people could come looking for you. There could be papz right around the corner, needing a good look for a filthy headline. He didn't stop, though. He started rubbing faster, playing with you like you were some toy.

You knew he wouldn't give you anything but his fingers. Yet. Taika waited and waited, getting you closer on just clit stimulation, but just as you reached your brink, he started to pull his hand away. Dazed and confused, you looked up, your chest shaking from all the heavy breathing you had been doing. Your hands were grasping at his shirt, damn near begging to have just the tiniest bit more, but the look on his face said it all. Even through the darkness of the corridor.

"What the fuck, dude? I was so close!" You hissed at him. All he did was click his tongue and say:

"That's for later too."

The rest of the tour was dreadful to you. It was long, and hot, and dank while you found your way back to the group. Taika was nonchalantly following just a ways behind you while you consistently traveled in circles or down a corridor and through the next. As if he knew you were getting yourself lost, he eventually stepped in, and lead you back towards the entrance of the fort, where your tour group had huddled together for the last destination and for the tour guide to say goodbye. Oh well, at least you got to take in some historical views.

After one more cramped trolley ride back to the hotel later, you were utterly exhausted, but you knew your night wasn't over yet. Taika still had something planned, and it must have been on the spot this morning too. If he had planned it any further back, he would have blabbed it all out to you by now. You laid on your bed while you could, right on your stomach with your face buried into the pillow, trying to let your heavy eyes fall closed for a second, but the moment you did, you felt a large hand smack you right on the ass.

You flipped over, mad as a hornet when you looked up at Taika. You hadn't heard him come out of the bathroom.

He had dressed himself up in all black. Black button up, tucked into his black pants and pressed firm with a black belt. He looked like one of those pit musicians you'd see when you go to really good musicals with live orchestras.

"Dirty Dancing cosplay, ooor?" you nipped at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Ha ha, you're funny," the sarcasm dripped from him. He then threw a piece of (also black) clothing on. "Put that on."

The reluctance was real, but you followed his orders anyway, grumbling and griping your way through. Turns out it was a dress. A short one, at that, only going down to be just half way down your thighs, but it was comfortable enough. Luckily you had a pair of flats with a slight heel in your bag to pair with it. You had no idea where you were going with him, but you were not about to walk there in heels.

Taika was giving you "the eyes" as you walked out of the bathroom, admittedly messing with the hem of your dress to try and bring it down lower. As a result, came more cleavage that you would have liked, but oh well. At least Taika enjoyed the view.

He took the grocery bags in his hands and in the crook of his arms, and like that, it was time to go.

"We'll be late if we don't rush!" he hurried you. You knew that was just a big fat lie, and he was excited to get to wherever you were going, but you played along for as long as you could.

Taika made you go down the boardwalk again, through flourishes of people while the bags in his arms still jostled from side to side. Eventually, you stopped, just outside of a well lit building, and he took you inside.

He stepped up to a desk, signed something, and set all of the groceries down on the desk. While he did those things, you had a look around. To your left, deeper into the building and with dimmer lighting, there were tables and chairs set up. Almost all of the tables were meant for two, or for four. Before you could investigate further, Taika was back to leading you around, through a few more doors, which opened up to a big ballroom.

A few more people were waiting there, dressed almost in the same fashion as you or even a bit more flamboyantly, and obviously coupled up. Taika wrapped his arm around your waist and made you jolt.

"Care to dance?" he mused quietly and you gulped. You've got to be fucking kidding.

"You're joking," you murmured, but he wasn't, because he took you right over to the group of other couples and started conversing with them while you started to freak out quietly.

Honestly, you had never been the greatest dancer on earth. Sure, you could cut a rug from time to time, but that was in the privacy of your own home or at Taika's place if he happened to pick out a really good song worth dancing to. You knew Taika loved to see you dance, he loved to dance with you most of all, but you both never got into anything fancy.

Now was the time.

Soon, your instructors announced themselves, and the room fell mute while they introduced themselves in their very heavy Spanish accents. You stuck to Taika's side most of the time, even as the mood was set and stone. You would be learning to salsa dance. But what did this have to do with the food? You'd find out later.

To put it simply, things got... touchy. Of course, the one and only Waititi was the one touching you, wrapping his big, strong hands around your hips and making them sway back and forth, but it was personal at some point. His hips were pushed against yours most of the time, and that awakened a more primal sense.

Once the dance had been established, the lavish music and the glow of sweat and cologne heightened your senses, and the lights began to dim or flash with lavish pinks, purples, reds, yellows, and greens. You got lost in the feeling as Taika set his hands on your hips again, his warm palms making your legs ache to feel his skin touch yours. Your back was against his chest while the footwork got complicated. Focused, yet mystical.

All the couples around you, doing the same moves as you, turned to blurry blobs, and your breathing got heavier as the pace of the music piece got faster and faster. Taika's breath drew across your ear, and made you shudder. It nearly knocked you out of focus, because you bumped your hips backwards, and pushed your ass against his hips. Like a chain reaction, you felt his hands squeeze your hips a little more than he was supposed to. So, you bumped your hips back against his again, and suddenly you were whipped around by his hands, and pulled flat against his chest.

The bodies around you still writhed and moved with beauty and grace, then there was you and Taika... in the very middle of the dancefloor while a small hard on pressed against the side of your thigh. He was looking down at you, and through the darkness, just like in the corridor, you could see his expression. It was a look of want. Need.

Before anything could be done, however, the lights flashed back on, and the song had finished. Only you and Taika were out of position. The instructors paid no mind. They just clapped, as well as everyone else. Taika removed his hands from you, but made sure you were close enough to hide the little bump in his pants. You hoped there was nothing other than this, because now you really wanted to get back to the hotel room.

The couples started filing out of the room, back to where the tables and chairs were, and Taika kept you in front of him the entire time, pressed almost a little too closely to him.

"Mr. Waititi," a waitress called to him from the kitchen as you met the front desk again. "Your food has been prepared."

Taika looked at the waitress, then to you. He was debating something. You knew what, but you'd let him figure this out for himself. He was the one with the more visible problem.

"Awesome," Taika sighed, then looked down at you. "Join me for a bite real fast?" He said it through almost gritted teeth. Reluctantly... you agreed.

If it was worth it, that's for you to decide. This place had taken the groceries you bought, fruits and veggies, and made a beautiful dinner with mango kiwi sangria. With the time the lessons had taken, the chefs in the kitchen had made the perfect meal. They had even thrown in a few extra elements like chorizo and perfectly cooked rice dishes. As much as you loved the food, you couldn't forget about the need between your legs. And it was obvious Taika couldnt simply forget about his.

You would watch him squirm in his seat while he sipped on his drink, or you would find him staring at you a little more than usual, and little more intensely with each second. His eyes would gloss over, and his breathing would slow, but he'd snap out of it, only when you said something to him, or a server came out of nowhere to check on both of your meals.

Even if the dinner wasn't as romantic (although more sexually charged than you expected), you still had a fantastic time. As soon as Taika finished his dish, he paid the check and was quick to dash out the door with you at his side. Sure, you managed to have enough time to pack up what was left of your food for later, but that hardly deterred Taika's speed and agility.

The walk back to the hotel room went by faster than you thought. The crowds had started to dwindle, and lights began to dim, because all of the shops and side markets had finally closed down after a long day of work. There was just enough darkness to cover the fact that Taika had his hands all over you. All the way to your room.

The moment you touch the door handle, the frenzy began.

He closed the door with his foot, and with both hands, he grabbed your hips and slammed you against the nearest wall he could find. His lips breathed over yours, whispering dirty praises and hot needs, and his hands reached down to pull up your dress to bunch it around your waist. His hand reached between your thighs, and cupped your wet panties, just over your folds. He started to stroke it, while his lips teased over yours, never kissing you, but needing you.

His strong fingers prodded through the fabric, seeking and searching like he had done with you in the corridor of the filthy base. Filthy actions in filthy places.

You moaned for him, but he seemed busy. He continued to bunch up your dress until your stomach was exposed to him. His parched lips drug themselves down your collarbone, again, avoiding your lips, while your hand shot up into his curly hair.

"Fuck, baby," he muttered, opening his dirty mouth just to use his teeth on you. He bit down on your skin, making a hiss seethe from you through your clenched jaw. "You're so fucking beautiful... making my dick so fucking hard."

You watched him kneel, the position making his pants crumple up, but the bulge in his black pants remained as prominent as ever. His nose brushed over your stomach, and you could feel his tongue prop out softly and hover over the hem of your underwear, just as well as his teeth hooking into them. Your thighs spread on their own, and he started to pull your underwear downwards.

He could see the glisten on your clit and the need drip down your thighs. His tongue poked out again, and you felt it slide across your inner thigh. It crept higher and higher,

He placed sloppy kisses along the soft flesh. The kind of kiss that you could hear. The smack and the pop from the wetness and eagerness to taste more of you and take more of you in. He needed that, and he only got more of it as he neared your core.

"Such a wet fuckin pussy, baby," he groaned and placed his tongue along the lips of your folds. His tongue drug itself along the slit, and dipped in to be right on your aching clit. He swiped his tongue back down, pushing it along your hole. Your legs began to tremble, and he began to dig in like the meal you had gotten at the restaurant only whet his appetite.

He took you seriously this time. The rough pads of his finger nimbly drifting along your hips, tracing every mark, every bump, and every hair, because he wanted to memorize this feeling. He also wanted you to remember these exact moments, when he ate your pussy out on the exotic islands of Puerto Rico.

You gripped his hair so tight, but that only pushed him further into your cunt. His nose swiped along, to add flavor to the sensation. His face, most certainly, would be dripping with you by the end of the night.

How long this went on for? You didn't know. You also didn't know it his goal was to disturb your neighbors, because you got pretty fucking for him at some point. He didn't stop until he was satisfied, and you didn't bother keeping track of how many times you had cum on his tongue. You knew he loved the taste. He loved your taste.

Eventually, you both made it back to the bed for once, after one or two earth shattering orgasms. Thighs shaking, breaths colliding, and tongues twisting. His lips touched yours and your mouth was immediately drenched in your own taste, mixed with his.

He got you out of your dress. You stripped him of his clothes. Skin met skin, and it was an instantaneous bon fire of pure, raw sex.

His hand met your throat and he pushed you against the bed while he sat between your legs, unconsciously rubbing his dick through your folds. His lips were on yours again, and he gave your throat a gentle squeeze from time to time.

"Fuck, Taik, just put it in me," you breathed desperately, and the air grew thick. Your eyes never met his. You just watched the way his hips rolled into you, and took the time to feel his scratchy hair rub against your belly each time. You were addicted.

"You're so soft..." His large hands trailed down your stomach, "I'd rather just play with you and see what would happen if I teased you some more." His snickering and plotting drew a whine from you. It sounded so pitiful, he knew you were on the edge already.

"Aw, pretty girl?" He clicked his tongue in a fake sympathetic way, "You don't like to play games, do you? That's such a shame... I thought fuck dolls loved to be played with."

"Taika," you whined again, and you started to wriggle beneath him.

Taika didn't usually mind it when you wiggled about, but something about tonight, it really pissed him off a small bit.

"You want it?" He hissed. "Fucking fine."

You nearly screamed so loud, the hotel walls would have shook, but he shoved himself in, with hardly any warning, and slapped a hand over your mouth.

"You're such a loudmouth... just shut up and take it," he muttered by your ear, and his hips wasted no time making a fool out of you. While one of his hands stayed over your mouth, the other was planted by your head, almost threateningly, and he gripped the bedsheets. If you had just turned your head a little bit, you would have seen the veins popping on his wrist.

Taika pressed his thumb right on the high of your cheekbone, keeping your mouth clamped shut harder as he lost himself in you. Fuck it, you were gone too. High as a kite as he pummeled you and fucked you up something awful.

He was making your sore already, with the intense clap of his hips that never seemed to slow. He was persistent. He was determined.

You let yourself cum for him way too many times that night, and he knew it. He would watch your eyes roll back, and the way your body would weakly tense each time, like you were recieving an electric shock to the brain. And he kept going. He kept going for a long time.

You just let him use you as the night went on, and the look of satisfaction grew more intensely each time you spilled over. It went on and on and on... until he suddenly just couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh my God," he panted, finally letting you speak out and be more vocal, but he had knocked all the breath from your lungs, so there was nothing you could say. "You're so fucking tight... so fuckin pretty, holy shit."

Taika's head rocked back and his eyes watched the ceiling. Shit. He was starting to give out. Shit, shit, shit.

He hunched back over, his thrusts becoming uneven with the ache of anxiousness and lust. It was a blissful, awful, horrible mix. Taika fucking loved it.

A grunt, a groan, and a brand new hickey to get him through it. He finally gave in, burying his face in the same shoulder he marked you on, kissing, lapping and nipping at your skin, as he came, and filled you up.

His body shook and quivered like an earthquake, and soon he felt much heavier on you. Exhaustion kicked in, and you felt like falling asleep right then and there.

You managed a hand to rub up and down his back, comfortingly, and he would let out the occasional groan in response.

"Do you have any more surprises I should be aware of?" you asked, voice hoarse and very very quiet.

"I might," Taika asked after a long pause of silence. "But those are for later..."

#fineanddandy1kchallenge #fineanddandy #taika waititi #fanfiction #taika waititi x reader #taika waititi imagine #taika waititi imagines #taika waititi/you #taika waititi x you

[oro-e-diamanti]

The one where it takes Thomas a year

Description | There's something between you and Thomas, but as time goes on, it becomes more and more difficult to figure out if you're on the same page.

Content | Angst, fluff, little bit of smut (but no detailed descriptions)

Pairing | Thomas x gn!Reader

Word Count | 5972

Tag list | @ginny-lily @ethaneskin @tabi-toast @mywritingonlyfans @manesimp @ohtorchio @daddydamiano @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut

***

January

The bar is dark and dirty, shoes sticking to the floor wherever you walk, unidentifiable music playing lowly in the background. You don't mind. You're sitting around a table with people you barely know and there's a skinny white boy animatedly talking about something or other and you decide that as long as you can keep looking at him, you'll stay here forever. He has got that kind of beauty about him that belongs in Gucci campaigns and on music magazine covers. He doesn't know that you barely understand a word of what he is saying. Not only is his speech far beyond your comprehension skills in Italian, but he is also apparently speaking in a Romanesco dialect. You don't mind.

His hands are moving around so much they almost shove the bottles and glasses off the table and your drunken mind doesn't let you focus on anything but his long, slim fingers. His nails are painted black and you never found nail polish on men all that appealing but somehow, everything about him is. One of his hands wraps around a bottle of beer, one of his rings causing a clacking sound that no one but you hears and you cannot help fall into fantasies of that same hand touching you.

A couple of people are getting up now. You are not sure what the plan is, but you're assuming they're heading to the bar for another round of drinks. You don't immediately realise that he is talking to you now, which seems ridiculous with how closely you have been watching him all night, but when you do, you awkwardly admit that you don't actually understand a word of what he is saying. He laughs a wonderfully melodic laugh and repeats himself in English. You decide you love his laugh.

He is talking about music, playing live, some records you have never heard of and you cannot keep up. You don't know nearly enough about the technical sides of the subject that he keeps raving about and you've had too many drinks to pretend. He doesn't mind.

Neither of you notices the others coming back, already in deep discussion. You don't know if anything you say makes any sense at all, but he is nodding along and looking at you with wide, open eyes and hanging onto every word so you keep talking. He is drunk, laughing at things that aren't all that funny, but so are you, so you laugh along.

The bartender ringing the bell for last call is the only thing that is able to pull you out of your conversation. Both of you slowly shuffle to leave the bar, losing your friends along the way. The cold outside air hits you like a ton of bricks, yet you don't feel any more sober. For a moment, as you both look at each other with expressions not quite identifiable, you consider taking him home. Dragging him into your bedroom just to see what he is hiding under those clothes. To see what his fingers feel like on your skin.

But then one of your friends pulls you into a taxi they have called, someone shuts the door and the driver starts the car before you have a chance to protest. You can see him standing on the sidewalk still, lighting a cigarette and watching as the car takes you away.

February

It takes you a moment to remember where you have seen him before when you bump into his body backstage. He surprises you by pulling you into a quick hug but you don't want to be weird so you hug him back. He asks you what you are doing here and you reply that you could be asking him the same thing. He laughs shamelessly and you wonder what is so funny until he reveals that you are actually backstage at his gig. You feel foolish but he tells you it's refreshing to talk to someone who is not impressed with who he is. You don't tell him that you are, in fact, very impressed, just not because he is in a band.

Without any further questions, he throws his arm around your shoulders and leads you to his dressing room, where various other people are gathering. You give a quick nod to a friend of yours who is playing in the support band and the only reason why you're backstage at all but all he does is wriggle his eyebrows at you and... You realise you still don't know the blond boy's name.

Thomas, he tells you. Thomas Raggi. It fits him perfectly and you cannot explain why. You tell him yours in return and he repeats it, rolling the letters off his tongue and you think your name has never sounded this lovely.

When the support band goes on stage you watch from the side, cheering on your friend and singing along and Thomas never lets go of you. It's painfully obvious that he has never listened to them before but his dance moves make up for it, twirling you around and making you repeat his steps and you never stop laughing once.

An hour later, it is Thomas' turn to take the stage and it is the first time you connect the dots as to who is in the band with him. The drummer looks ethereal, dark hair flying around as he gives it his all, the bassist is a gorgeous little blonde that screams confidence, the singer might be one of the most charismatic beings you have ever seen, but no one draws you in quite like the guitarist does.

You love watching live music but Thomas is something else. He gets into it like no one else. His heart is in it in a way that makes you wish for him to love you with a matching passion. You almost forget to dance along, too distracted and too deep into your own thoughts. You barely notice the support band gathering next to you to watch, or your friend squeezing your side, thanking you for coming.

As the gig ends, the singer presses an open-mouthed kiss to Thomas' lips and you wonder what it feels like. You think you would quite like to find out tonight.

You don't get the chance, though, at least not really. The band has to load in, pack their things, chat to a few people and then they're being told to get a move on, get in the van so they can travel to the next city on their tour, get to the hotel, and sleep.

Thomas pulls you aside, shouting to the rest of his band that he's going to smoke one more cigarette, and then he'll be ready to leave. He offers you one as well but you refuse. He looks hot when he's smoking and you hate it. Neither of you speaks for a minute.

Then he asks to see you again. His hand is on your waist. You tell him yes, what else are you supposed to say. When he is looking at you with his doe eyes. When you still cannot stop thinking about his mouth. He tells you he'll be home all day next month and then lets go of you to type your number in his phone. You cannot tell if he will actually call.

His band shouts for him to hurry up, so he throws the cigarette to the ground and stomps it out with the heel of his boot. He hesitates for a second, then presses a soft kiss to your forehead that feels much tamer than what you had been hoping for.

This time you're the one standing on the sidewalk watching him drive away.

March

He does call. In fact, he calls repeatedly, asking you out, asking you to tag along somewhere, asking you to visit him. You are busy with your job and your family and your friends and you are dying to see him but it's hard to make free time. So you talk on the phone. You're scared you're getting in too deep, scared that you're starting to build up a version of him that only exists in your head, scared that you will be disappointed when reality cannot live up to the fantasies you have lying awake in bed at night.

It's mid-March by the time you pack a weekender and turn up at his place. Not unannounced, of course, but somehow it still feels unexpected to see him. It is the first time the two of you are alone, during the day, in a private place. You don't spend a lot of time talking that first day.

He kisses you, passionately and impatiently, the second you drop your bag. You do not complain, you wouldn't dream of it. His mouth feels even better on yours than you had pictured in your imagination and you already know you are not going to get enough of him any time soon. There are hands clumsily pulling at clothes and tongues tracing along skin and a lot of time to explore each other's bodies. He causes you to see stars, multiple times, and you do the same for him. It is hot and heavy and full of moans and you cannot remember the last time you had sex like this.

When you wake up again, dawn is just on the brink of coming around and you're alone in his bed. You can spy him sitting on his balcony, cigarette in hand and you quickly put on his shirt before joining him outside. You mean to take a seat next to him, but he pulls you onto his lap immediately. You lean into him, taking in the quiet and the dark and the way he still smells like sweaty sex.

It feels too good, being here with him. He presses soft kisses to the nape of your neck you feel yourself slipping back into a state of utter bliss. He turns you around so you face him, straddling his lap, and it doesn't take long for him to start fumbling with the shirt you are wearing. You do it again right then and there, out on the dark balcony with the world around you asleep.

You spend the rest of the weekend like this. You're insatiable and he's not much better, constantly clinging on to you. Even when you decide to cook a quick meal, his arms are wrapped around you from behind and his chin is resting on your shoulder.

You don't change into any of the clothes you brought. Whenever you aren't naked, you usually slip one of his shirts over your head. You haven't seen him wear more than his boxers ever since you arrived. Both of you use the time to get to know each other inside out. You start to learn what the other one enjoys, where they like to be kissed the most, how to get the highest moans and most desperate whimpers out of each other. But you also learn about each other's fears. Of your pasts and your families and your plans for the future. What you expected your life to look like when you were ten and how wrong you were. You learn that he doesn't love anyone more than his three band members and how he likes his breakfast. He learns all about your favourite movies and how you ended up in Italy.

Sunday evening hits both of you hard. He tells you he will never forget the way you look right in that moment, bag already in hand, and it feels like goodbye. You cannot stomach the thought. But he says he will call you and he might be at the studio a lot but maybe you can come and visit. You're not sure if he is being serious or if he just doesn't want to see you cry. He tangles his hand in your hair to pull your head to his once more and gives you a mind-blowing kiss you will dream about until you get to see him next.

April

The studio is more like a house. Four bedrooms and a pool almost make you forget they are here for rehearsal. You finally get formally acquainted with Damiano, Victoria, and Ethan but Thomas still monopolises your time. The others get annoyed at you sneaking off to be alone and after Damiano accidentally bursts into Thomas' room while the guitarist's head is in between your legs you decide you should make more of an effort.

You break the ice by cooking a massive dinner, starters and desserts included, and find out that everyone was right about getting into people's hearts via good food. Dinner is served out on the terrace, Damiano helps set up, Victoria brings the wine and you end up talking for hours. Damiano tells you he is glad that there's more to you than the moans you make at night and you almost get offended but Thomas slaps the back of his head and you know their banter means no harm. Ethan helps you clean up afterward, then disappears into his room as you head back out. You cannot help overhear the other three talking outside as you're approaching and you cannot help stopping in your tracks to continue listening.

Damiano's voice is easily distinguishable and probably louder than he intends it to be. It is the wine's fault, really. How come you brought her here, you hear him ask and you're glad you made the effort to improve your Italian over the last few months. You've never brought anyone anywhere. Victoria chimes in, agreeing with Damiano, almost poking fun at Thomas. Yeah, what's up with that. Are you in love?

You hate that he scoffs at the suggestion. So, you haven't talked about what you are doing. You haven't talked about what you are, exactly. But there is no need to refuse this option straight away. You don't catch exactly what Thomas is saying as he is mumbling along, but you are certain you hear him refute. They all giggle in a way that almost makes you feel like they are making fun of you. So you take a deep breath, holding your head up high, and step out onto the terrace.

They don't look embarrassed. They don't even look caught. You think maybe it's because they don't think you heard. Or understood. Damiano suggests a late-night swim in the pool and you agree before he finishes his sentence. Both you and Thomas dash to his room, quickly changing into swimwear and you have to swat his hand away when he briefly plays with the string that holds up your top.

Thomas doesn't actually need to be dared to jump into the water but Victoria does so anyway. You watch from the edge of the pool, amused, as you suddenly feel hands on your back attempting to push you in. You react quicker than you ever have in your life, turning to grab the offending person - who turns out to be Damiano - and pulling him into the water with you. Both of you emerge spluttering and laughing. Victoria takes the stairs, loudly proclaiming herself a lady among peasants, and is quickly dunked by Thomas. She complains about her ruined hair but cannot keep the giggle hidden.

You enjoy the heated water around you, while the cool April air hits your face. Damiano joins into the game of dunking for a while but you stay on the sidelines until Victoria joins you. She looks gorgeous in the light, wet hair plastered to her forehead, and you wish you had an ounce of the poise she possesses. She tells you she has been friends with Thomas the longest, meeting in school, long before any of them knew that one day their lives would be irreversibly intertwined. She says she has nothing against you - much the opposite - but Thomas is like a brother to her and she cares for him deeply. It is incessantly clear that she is protective of him and it endears you. Apart from constantly distracting him, you're doing him good, she says. She hopes to see you around more.

You hope so too.

May

Life feels domestic with Thomas by your side. You don't see each other as often but when you do he tends to stay at your place. His touch still lights you on fire but there's another aspect to it. The waking up next to each other, your head on his chest or his on yours. The cooking and the clean-up after. The standing in front of the mirror and brushing your teeth, doing your skincare routine, and leaving dots of your moisturiser on his face to annoy him.

You're not sure if he enjoys it quite as much as you do. He laughs along with you but he is also the first one to initiate sex. And, oh, the sex. Now you're alone with each other again, and not in the constant danger of one of his bandmates catching you, you explore more. You find out just how much he enjoys being submissive and you enjoy creating a new, more dominant role for yourself. There's leather and latex, chokers and harnesses, spanking and bondage, and both of you discover new sides to yourselves and each other.

As May draws on, his visits become shorter. You don't notice at first but the first time he tells you he is not staying the night you suddenly see a clear pattern emerging. He is willing to help you cook if he gets sex afterward. He is happy to wake up next to you in a peaceful tangle if he got sex beforehand. You're torn. You don't know whether you should mention it, whether he is aware of it, or if you're simply reading too much into it. You decide to test him.

It's almost midnight when he stumbles into your apartment that day. He is all over you immediately, exploring hands and hot kisses, but you tell him you have some leftover tiramisu. He seems happy enough. But then you drag him into the bathroom for your evening routine and you put on your comfy pajamas and snuggle into bed and he seems a bit lost. He doesn't say it, though. Instead, he crawls into bed with you, gets under the covers, and spoons you. You fall asleep.

You don't stay asleep for long. Thomas is tossing and turning and when he wraps his arms around you again you know why. He is hard. You whisper his name in the dark and are answered through a groan. He is gripping you tightly now, one of his hands wanders up to grasp your breast through the fabric of your shirt. It doesn't take much. It is impossible to deny him.

When you wake back up again the next morning, the bed is empty. You call out for him, hoping he might just be in the bathroom or the kitchen, but there is no answer and when you sit up and look around the room you realise all of his clothes are gone. You feel used and annoyed. You also feel like your hypothesis has been confirmed. The thought is tiring you out enough to wrap yourself back into your blanket and allow sleep to take over once more.

June

It's weird seeing Victoria without Thomas. The only time you have ever met her was when you were attached to his hip, so when you run into her on the patio of a restaurant late one evening, it almost takes you a split second to remember where you know her from. She, however, knows you immediately. The hug takes you by surprise. She asks you if you're here with Thomas and you wonder why she doesn't know. You tell her no. You don't tell her you have not spoken to him at all this week. She is blissfully unaware of the turmoil inside of you. That much becomes obvious when she invites you round for a party at hers the next night - but surely, Thomas has already told you about that. You neither confirm nor deny, but accept the invitation simply because there is no saying no to a face like Victoria's.

No one seems to notice that you and Thomas arrive separately. In fact, by the time you get to Victoria's, he's a couple of drinks in and the life of the party. He is in the middle of demonstrating his best dance moves on the kitchen table when he sees you. He jumps down, almost crashing to the ground, before stumbling over to you and smothering you in kisses. Whispering sweet nothings of amore mio and cucciolo and cara mia. You revel in the attention. You love that he is doing this in front of everyone, showing them you're his and he's yours. You ignore that it might be drunken talk.

You pull him into the kitchen, where the music is slightly more muffled and there aren't quite as many people, and make yourself a drink. He's hanging onto you like you are his lifeline. You want to pretend it is always like this, like he always adores you this much, like he calls, like he wants to hang out with you because of who you are, not what you do to his body. Yet, it's his body you cannot refuse.

Two strongly mixed drinks later Thomas has you pressed against a wall, hands desperately grasping for each other and his mouth on your neck. You barely notice Victoria shouting at you to get a room and no, not mine! It's the first time in weeks he takes you home to his and you want to be elated but it's impossible. His fingers feel as good as ever as they trace your skin but in your mind, you know his heart is not in it.

In the morning, it's you who is awake first and it's you who gets up, gathers belongings, and leaves. You only hesitate once, right before opening the door leading you away from him, but it's not worth the heartbreak, so you go. It doesn't feel good and there's no relief in it.

July

If you ever thought you could simply banish Thomas from your life, you were sorely mistaken. You don't think he understands why you keep trying to walk away. He does understand that something is wrong, though, and he tries to make things better. He tells you about a little summer house he has been thinking about renting and asks you to come along. You ask why you cannot just spend time together right here, right now and he says he wants to be alone with you. In a way you cannot help but interpret this as I don't want more people to see us together, I don't want any more questions about whether you are mine, I don't want to explain myself. It should have been romantic but there is another sentiment seeping through.

You agree anyway. It is hard to say no to the gorgeous boy when he is begging you with those doe-shaped eyes. So you pack your things, heart still heavy, and he plants a wet kiss on your lips when he picks you up. You decide to push your doubts away and enjoy yourself.

The place is adorable, a little house just on the beach, tiny and homely, and barely anyone around. You look at Thomas standing in front of the window, sunlight hitting his face, and think he is beautiful. It barely seems fair that someone like him would exist because everyone else just pales in comparison. You think you might never get over him. You surely will never get over looking at him.

You walk over to the man that isn't yours, wrapping your arms around him from behind and you cannot help your hands wandering lower, grasping his hardening flesh. He might never be fully yours but until your heart can take letting him go for good, you will take his body if that is all you're getting. He takes you on the kitchen counter, making you scream in a way that has you thanking your lucky stars, before dragging you into the shower and taking you once more.

The days are a daze of being entangled with each other. You barely leave the house, but when you do he takes you out to a lovely restaurant not too far away but you know it's only because no one here knows you. He holds your hand and he opens doors for you and tells you that you look beautiful. Then you get back home, or what you wish you could call home for the rest of your days, and makes you come undone time and time again.

You feel yourself falling for the gorgeous boy more and more and it is one morning, curtains forgotten to be drawn closed the night before, where the early sun hits his sleeping form just right that you realise you love him. You're so far beyond infatuation. You are getting deeper and deeper into this fantasy you are building for yourself, one where it is always the way it is right now, one where he proudly holds you in his arms in public, one where he is screaming from the rooftops that you are his and he is yours. The more time you spent with him, the harder it becomes to face reality. You're slipping.

August

It is festival season and Thomas is away a lot, sometimes coming home for a couple of days at a time and then vanishing again for longer. You miss him terribly, you almost feel lost without him. He calls, but it's not the same. Victoria calls too, and you don't know what you did to deserve her attention. She tells you Thomas is miserable whenever he is off stage and a plan is quickly hatched. Two days later you are on your way to Denmark.

Victoria meets you at the hotel, making sure you get a room on the same floor the band will be staying on for the next two nights, and then takes you to the festival grounds. It's loud and crowded and crazy and if you weren't dying to see Thomas, you would ask her to just leave you alone in front of one of the stages and let you lose your mind, but you don't.

You follow Victoria into the backstage area, quickly flashing the pass she supplied you with, and walk past a labyrinth of vans and busses and busy areas where musicians and everyone who works with them is hanging out. Victoria says she's not entirely sure where Thomas is but he's bound to be where alcohol is being served and you soon reach a little outdoor bar area. You see a glimpse of what looks like him vanish behind the bar stand and quickly follow. You don't notice if Victoria is still behind you.

It turns out you were right, as you round the corner and see the man you had been craving, but you wish you weren't. Your heart doesn't break all at once, but the beat becomes a deafening pounding and you think you might throw up. He is pinning a girl against the wall of the bar. That is when the first piece of your heart breaks off. He is touching her the way he touches you, uses all the moves you have gotten to know, and another piece of your heart crumbles and dies. Her hand is between his legs and the way he whimpers causes your heart to collapse into itself.

You barely hear Victoria shouting, you cannot understand the angry Italian words she is throwing around, and you want to turn and run but your feet are rooted to the ground. You simply watch as Victoria pulls Thomas off the girl who is quietly slipping into the background and disappearing and even with your lack of comprehension, you know the two friends are exchanging heated words. At some point Thomas turns to you, asking you why you are even here, but Victoria interjects, shouting at him because she misses you and you've been miserable, bastardo!

It is when he tells both of you that he doesn't owe you anything, that you're not together, that you're certainly not exclusive, when your body regains its sense of movement. The sound of the harsh slap your hand delivers to his cheek seems to echo and you don't wait for his reaction. You leave. There is nothing left here for you but more heartbreak.

September

You do not hear from Thomas. Victoria is trying to reach you numerous times but you do not answer. You spend the days in a dull state of being. You go to work. You do your chores. You cry yourself to sleep. And repeat.

October

Thomas is trying to reach you. You do not answer. Victoria is trying to reach you sometimes but you do not answer. Life has not become any easier. You go to work. You do your chores. Sometimes you meet friends. You cry yourself to sleep. And repeat.

November

You don't want to go out but your friends have had enough. They do your hair and your make-up, they set out a sexy but comfortable outfit and they make sure you get a first shot or two in before leaving. You don't admit it out loud but it does make you feel better.

The place they drag you to is loud and crowded and crazy and it makes you feel like you can forget for a while. It would have worked better if you hadn't spotted Damiano and Victoria on the dance floor. A twisting feeling settles in your stomach. You decide to get yourself another drink only to see Ethan there. He spots you and gives you a little wave. You wave back but the panic rises and your face doesn't match the action. They are all here. Probably.

You cannot help yourself. Drink in hand, you pretend to go looking for your friend but as you are circling the club you are looking for someone else entirely. You spot him easily. He is sitting on a table in a corner, on his own, beer bottles in front of him. He looks miserable. As if he knows, he lifts his head and your eyes meet. You feel like you're about to hyperventilate, so you turn on your heels and all but sprint to the smokers' area behind the club. There are barely any people out here, cool November air nipping at the bare skin on your arms and legs. You don't expect him to follow you but he does.

He looks worse up close. His hair looks like it hasn't seen a brush in weeks but not in the stylish way he usually wears it. His eyes are bloodshot and there are dark circles underneath. You know he's drunk, you know from his appearance and his demeanor, but he is not the usual life of the party. You wait for him to say something. Then he walks up to you, carefully throwing his arms around you and pulling you close. You almost push him away but your heart tells you differently.

He mumbles chants of I'm sorry and I'm an idiot and I don't deserve you and you have to slowly push him off you because this is not going to be over with a few apologies. You sit him down on a picnic bench standing in a corner, leaving a bit of space between you. You are aware he could win you back over with just the right looks and just the right touches but you need more.

You talk until you're frozen to the bone and only then do you accept his embrace again. You re-live your whole relationship and it becomes crystal clear where your shortcomings were. Where you went in different directions without telling the other. Where you expected what the other couldn't or wouldn't provide. You are brutally honest and the tears that soon begin rolling down both of your faces prove it. Discussing the Copenhagen disaster hurts most but you get through it. He is quick to admit fault. Yes, he was miserable. Yes, it was because he missed you. Yes, it was also because it scared him and he wasn't ready and he tried to deflect by hooking up with a girl he had literally just met. Yes, you are allowed to hold that against him forever.

That night you go back to his place with him and for the first time, nothing happens. You undress each other down to your underwear but there is nothing sexy about it. It is just two people who care deeply. You both get under the covers of his bed, holding each other close and studying each other's faces. His hand strokes your cheek. Both of you still have puffy eyes. You feel safe. No one says a word. You are simply looking into each other's eyes, content, until you drift to sleep.

December

Thomas is holding your hand. He just finished playing a gig and you're gathered backstage and you look at everyone around you who can see him holding your hand. It's a silly little thing to obsess over but your heart feels like it's going to burst with happiness. No more hiding, no more are-we-or-aren't-we, no more proclamations that only happen when he's drunk. Just two adults in love with each other.

It's not all sunshine and rainbows but you both know what you want. Communicating has gotten easier and is not reduced to what you do in the bedroom. Instead of locking each other out, you talk now. He looks happier and people have told you so do you. And you are. You never thought you were going to find the man of your dreams and for the past year it hadn't looked like Thomas was the one. But you are happy to have been proven wrong.

Victoria grins at you. She has long forgiven you for ignoring her calls back in September and October. She gets it. Sometimes you think she was angrier with Thomas than you were. She tells you it's because she saw that you are the best thing in his life from the get-go and she hated how he was throwing it away. Now you're back and you've gained a sister in her, too. You are glad for Ethan and Damiano as well. Thomas' little family has opened its arms to you and you didn't hesitate. You love being with them. All lingering awkwardness from April has vanished. They are still not fond of accidentally walking in on you and Thomas, though.

The band goes out to meet some fans and you tag along but hang back. The way certain girls touch Thomas still doesn't sit right with you, but you see the way he reacts and it's a relief. Taking a step back, removing hands from his body, smiling politely but with determination. He does it when you're not watching, too. Victoria has told you as much.

He catches your eye for a second, realises you are watching him, and throws you an air kiss. The people he was talking to turn around to see who he is aiming for, but quickly lose interest. You keep watching. His animated hands as he talks. The smile lighting up his face when someone pays him a compliment. You think he is drop-dead gorgeous. And you think that as long as he allows you to look at him like this, and as long as he does the same to you, you'll stay here forever.

#maneskin fiction #maneskin imagine #thomas raggi x you #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi imagine #thomas raggi fiction #fluff #angst #my writings

[blxxdyvalentine19xx]

What happens in vegas stays in vegas 🎲

lil huddy x MGK x Mod Sun

Warnings:

Song: Free Love - Mod Sun

Colson's mouth dropped; he shot up into a sitting position when the words left Chase's mouth. "Did you just suggest a threesome with one of my best friends?" He wasn't sure he heard  Chase right and he was shocked by what he thought he heard.

"Maybe..." Chase startled when Colson sat up quickly. "...yes" he picked at the sorry state of the chipped polish on his nails. "You don't have t-" Chase was cut off by Colson kissing him softly and looking at him with a curious expression.

Hearing the 'yes' Colson cracked a smile and took Chase's hands in his. "I'll have to catch him in the right mood" He said as he outstretched one of his legs. "So don't bank on it or anything." Colson admitted that Mod was good looking.

Looking away; Chaae covered his eyes; he was sure his face was red and he attempted to hide it in his hoodie when he was pulled into a cuddle..

♡ ♡ ♡

Chase had just walked into the living room when he heard Mod make a dig at Colson about the age difference between Kells and Chase. "Oh hell no" he mumbled under his breath and was about to walk back out when Colson answered.

"It ain't me we gotta worry about here" Colson looked up from the blunt he was rolling and grinned at Mod. “he’s the one with a thing for older men" He waved his hand in Chase's direction and winked at the boy.  "You wouldn’t belive what he suggested in bed the other day”

"I find it hard to believe you aren't the one to worry about" Mod shrugged, wide eyed when Colson said it was Chase who was into older men. "Jesus...always the pretty ones" his eyes drew up to Chase who looked like a deer in the headlights.

Sealing the blunt; he looked at his friend and shook his head. "He casually  dropped the words 'threesome and 'Mod Sun' in the same confession" 

"Yo-" Chase froze on the spot when Mod's attention snapped back to him. "Uhmm..." he hadn't intended to be around when Colson mentioned it so he lacked a decent explanation.

Wondering why Colson brought it up; Mod looked from Chase back to Colson and caught the look Colson usually had when he was about to suggest something insane. "Oh n- Kells, you don't..." he managed a breath and sat up in the chair.

"I do ..." Colson leaned backwards and snapped his fingers a couple times to get Chase's attention. "I don't joke about that stuff and you know it Mod" He pulled Chase onto the couch when his boyfriend came over.

"I-" He looked at Chase again and chose his words carefully. "Is he ... serious?" Mod was more interested in hearing it from Chase, there was a more significant age gap between him and Chase than there was Chase and Kells.

Chase nodded and focused on the feel of Colson's hand on his shoulder. "It was ne who mentioned it" he said, his ears warm, a sign he was nervous. "Colson didn't know until then."

Couple days later

Mod typed out a message to Colson and ran a hand through his damp hair. 'As insane is it is, I'm saying yes' he bit his lip and jumped onto the counter and finished the message 'Vegas, the three of us, let's make it a weekend thing, Mod sent it and took a breath. "I might be crazy for saying yes but they're both cute"

Colson picked up his phone having just gotten out of the shower; reading Mods message; he grinned shaking his head. "Hey! Baby" He walked into his bedroom and crawled up the bed to Chase "Vegas? This weekend, Mod's idea, what happens in vegas stays in vegas" Colson kissed his boyfriend and hummed as Chase slipped an arm around his neck.

"Mmm" slipping an arm around Colson's neck; Chase pulled the man into a makeshift cuddle. "Yeah, sure that's fine" he mumbled and buried his head into Colson's neck.

♡ ♡ ♡ Vegas

Being his idea; Chase was a touch off put as he deffenitly wanted the threesome they'd planned but compared to both Mod and Kells, he was mostly inexperienced and feeling the 'pressure to perform.' It wouldn't have been a problem of it weren't for the fact that he was apparently struggling to get hard even with Kells's usual praise. "Got to do this a little differently, the usuals not doing it."

"That's not something to worry about" Colson's mind flitted through some of his past threesomes and had a lightbulb moment. "I might have an effective solution" He pressed a kiss to Chase's forehead before getting up. Colson dropped down between Mod's legs and looked up when one of his friends hands laced on his blonde locks. "Hey"

His eyes flicked downwards to Colson; a long ago familiar scene with Colson between his legs. "It's been a while" Mod's smile turned up as Colson's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Lets see if you still know what you're doing" He nudged Colson's cheek with his knee and sucked in a sharp breath when Colson kissed up the inside of his left thigh.

"The first time was a dare and I was bold enough to do it to spite Rook." He mumbled; kissing along Mod's thigh, mouthing at the base of his friends still clothed dick. "The brat really thought I was straight." Colson fliked his attention to Chase, grinning as the boys lip disappeared between his teeth. "You ain't the only one here who can suck dick, baby"

Something about Colson teasing the idea of sucking Mod's dick came off as hot to Chase and he hummed out a weak breath. "That's not news" Chase mumbled out;  his breath catching as Mod's fingers tugged at Colson's hair as if telling him to get to it.

Mod rolled his eyes as Colson took his time; pulling him forward he locked his fingers against the back of Colson's head. "Less talking, Kells" he looked towards Chase and bit back a moan when Colson palmed him. "He always talks this much?"

Pulling Mod forward in the hotel room chair; he tugged the man's boxers down, Colson's lip grazed over his lips as Mod looked back to him again. Colson obliged Mods hand cupped his head; stroking his friends dick; he took the tip between his lips and sucked at it.

Seeing Colson submit to Mods will played with his mind and he ended up squeaking out a gentle moan as his boyfriend looked at him. "Not always"

Sighing out a relived moan; Mod looked down at Colson, fighting the urge to thrust into the man's mouth. "A little more, baby" he hummed; grinning as he heard a moan pass Chase's lips. Lightly pushing at the blondes head.

Colson wrapped a hand around the base of Mods dick and took some of it into his mouth. Humming around it; he sucked his cheeks inwards around his friend. His back straightened as Mod's fingers pulled him forward again.

Mod moaned out as Colson's checks moulded to his dick as the man sucked at it, a hand grabbed at his thigh as Colson's mouth relaxed a little. "Kerp going Kells" Sliding his dick inwards a little more, he bit his lip as Colson gestured for Chase to come over.

Even with his mouth housing Mods dick; Chase was happy to oblige to what Kells suggested as his boyfriend flicked his attention between his friend and himself. "Ohh..." letting himself be pulled into a kiss by Mod; he whined into it as Colson's free hand palmed him.

Seeing his boyfriend and his bestfriend kiss eachother sent a shiver through him and Colson removed his hand from  mods dick. Pushing against mods hand; a heavy moan was halted as mod pushed him all the way down.

OOO

Both their attention turned to Chsse as they kissed up the boys thighs. Meeting in a kiss just below his boyfriend's dick; Colson sucked at Mod's lip and half giggled when mods tongue slipped past his own lips.

Mod pushed his tongue between Colson's lips and pulled him into a kiss; a hans gripping the man's ass. "Always my favorite fuck." He mumbled and winked as Chase easily invaded the kiss. "Hey there" mod chuckled as the boy pushed them off eachother.

Something in that kiss made Chase jealous and he took to his knees pushing Colson and Mod apart. "Kells might be a whore but he's mine." He said and kissed Mod; his hips arching forward against the older man as Colson's lips kissed up his neck.

"Yeah, he is" Mod shifted; his hands cupping the boys ass while they kissed. Nipping at the boy's lip, he moaned as Chase's obviously hard dick pressed against his thigh. "I'm not gonna steal him from you, Chsse" Mod carded his fingers through Chase's feather soft hair.

"No, cause you're fucking him and he's gonna suck my dick, well sort of." Colson grinned as an eager moan left Chase's lips. Biting at his boyfriend's neck; he ground his dick against Chase's ass and moaned as Mod's hand stroked it

Mod broke the kiss and pulled Colson's head up. "Sort of being you using his mouth." He kissed Colson happily and squeezed Chase's hip. "You okay with me being the one who fucks you?" He brushed a finger over Chase's blush red cheeks.

Chase heard Colson say it was going to be Mod fucking him and his breath caught. "Mm, mhmm" he nodded excitedly, he'd imagined being fucked by Mod before and couldn't believe it would actually happen.

Colson laughed into a kiss with Mod when Chase was a touch over eager. "Why am I not surprised by you" he kissed Chase's cheek and let his hand shake around to his boyfriend's dick. "Your my boyfriend and yet I'm letting my best friend fuck you."

"Because you know me too well" he gripped the back of Colson's neck and kissed him deeply before the two men switched places.

Later in the evening

Stepping out of the hotel shower; Colson wrapped a rather fluffy towel around Chase's shoulders and stopped a laugh as his boyfriend's arms came around his torso in an iron class grip. "Oh kay" he was nearly knocked backwards and caught the edge of the vanity to catch himself. "How are you not exhausted baby?" He kissed the boys head and smiled.

"He's basically a spring chicken, kells, you were at that age." Mod chimed and slipped into a shirt may have been one of Colson's he'd copped off the rapper Donna recent tour.

"Mmphhh" Chase shrugged his shoulders and grinned up at Colson as he huffed his overly tattooed boyfriend.  "Just hungry, kells" he smiled despite the dull tightness to the muscles in his jaw. "Pizza?" He asked; pulling Colson's head downwards into a kiss.

"Yeah, I guess so, best to eat now and down liquid tomorrow." He ruffled a hand through Chase's wet hair and walked them both back into the living space. "Mod, pizza" Colson smiled as Chaee snapped to attention and pulled a shirt over his head. "I- Mod, are you wearing my shirt?"

Mod looked down at the shirt and kept a straight face. "Maybe...its one of them." He ordered a pizza and was about to collapse onto the other bed when he was pulled onto the one Colson and Chase had claimed.

"You definitely aren't a groupie" Colson pursed his lips as he looked at the shirt and shook his head. "You're the little shit who stole a few of my shirts aren't you?" He pulled Chase back onto the bed and slipped his hands below both the man's shirts.

#machine gun kelly #mod sun #colson baker #machine gun kelly fanfic #mod sun fanfiction #lil huddy #lil huddy fanfiction #derek ryan smith #cole chase hudson #chase hudson fanfiction

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

Blue Dove

Request: I was thinking of an image where reader and Henry have a kid, but they're divorced because of their jobs. He's an actor and she's a singer, or something like that. But they both want to try again. It doesn't have to be exactly that, but something along the lines. Thank you!

Warning: Fluff

Pairing: Henry cavill x reader, dad! Henry cavill

GIF credit goes to @henrycavilledits

Masterlists

Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission. Comments and reblogs welcome!

It has been hard ever since you and Henry got divorce. You both had a packed schedule and on top of that a son, and it made you both distance from each other. There was a way to work it out, but you both didn't want to see it.

——

"Mommy are we at Papa house yet?" You looked through the rearview mirror at your son George. He was a spitting image of Henry. "Um, almost honey." He smiled at you through the mirror before turning back to his toy truck. "Okay."

After about 5 minutes you arrived at Henry house. You parked your car in the driveway and got out. Henry heard your car pull up, and came outside. When he saw you he gave you a quick smile before walking to open George's door.

"Hi buddy." He unbuckled his car seat and picked him up. George snuggled into Henry's chest, smiling. You walked to the trunk and pulled out George's Superman backpack. You could see Henry glancing at you as you got the bag out of the trunk. It gave you butterflies, but you brushed it off.

"Okay, here's his bag. All of his stuffed animals are in there. This time I didn't forget them." You laughed slightly at the end of the end of the sentence, before looking at Henry. "Here you go." 

Henry took the bag from you and put it over his shoulder. 

You walked over to the drivers side ready to leave, when you heard Henry call your name.

"Y/n." You stopped, turning to Henry. "Um I was going to ask you a question." You nodded, listening. "I was wondering if you wanted to stay for dinner?" You pushed your lips into a thin line. "I don't know."

"Please mommy, please." George plea made you cave. "Okay, but I get to sing you a song during bedtime." You pointed to George, shutting your car door.

The three of you walked into Henry's house. As soon as George entered he was off to play with Kal. You knew he found him when you heard laughter. You followed Henry to help with dinner.

"So what are you going to cook?" You went to wash your hands. "Um some spaghetti and maybe chicken nugget." You laughed at the unusual food combo. "Ok, so what do I do?" Henry was pulling things out of the when you asked that question.  

"You can clean my dishes." You turned to his sink and what a surprise there were a few dishes there. You turned back to Henry, hands crossed. "I kinda feel like you invited me here so I can clean your dishes."

Henry laughed, but you can tell it was an off laugh. You were going to ask what was wrong but you brushed it off. 

"No I'm sorry. I'll do them." You started to feel guilty after he finished his sentence. "Okay I'll do it hen." He looked up at you and smiled. "Thank you."

———

Cleaning the dishes was not a hard job. But Henry staring at you occasionally made it hard for you.

"So, how was the tour?" You just finished up a world tour a few weeks ago and it was pretty good. 

"It went well. The only thing that sucked is not seeing George." You didn't everything to not say you missed him too because you definitely did. Lucky George entered with your favorite bear Kal. When he saw you, he attacked almost Knocking you over. You laughed it off and gave him some scratches. "I missed you too buddy." 

After a few minutes of greeting Kal, you stood up and looked over to Henry who was talking to George. "Papa are you going to tell mommy?" You frowned, tell you what?

"About how you…." They both turned to you. "Oh hi mommy." George waved at you nervously, so did Henry. "What are you two talking about?"

Henry looked up at George and back to you. "Um y/n I want to tell you something, but I think we should do it later after dinner." You nodded. "Alright."

————

After a messy dinner, you all finished. Henry went to change George for bedtime while you waited. You started thinking about what he wanted to tell you. Was he going to tell you he found someone else, or he wants you back. Or he had another child with someone. Lots of thought was running through your head, stupid thought to be exact.

You were snapped out of your daydream when Henry and George walked in. "We watch a movie now?" George walked up to you, getting in your lap. "Okay what do you want to watch?" George told you Superman and Henry put it on. You watched his every move. The way his back muscles pressed against his shirt as reached to turn on the TV. How he grunted a little. You had to quickly take your eyes off of him before you started feeling something.

"Okay, it's all ready for you buddy." George got off of your lap and turned to the TV. You turned to Henry to see him gesturing to the kitchen so you can talk. You quickly got up and followed him.

You sat down in the dining room chairs, Henry doing the same. "What did you want to talk about?" Henry exhaled, taking your hand. Your heart flutters."I wanted to talk about us, and about our relationship." You nodded and Henry continued. 

"We got divorce because of our career and I have to be honest with you y/n," he looked up at you. "I hate it. I miss you, I miss us. There was a way for us to work it out but I was too blind to see it at the time, but now I see it and I want to try again if you want to, just tell me."

Were you dreaming or did he actually say he wanted to try again. It couldn't be possible. "Henry are you serious?" Henry nodded, letting go of your hand, placing it on your cheek. "I have never been more serious in my life y/n. I want to try again."

You closed your eyes at his soft hand that you miss. "Henry I… I want to try again. This time around we need to do some much better. We need to make time as a family, and also as a couple." Henry let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding and kissing you. You could feel fireworks interrupting in your stomach, the same for Henry. 

You both eventually had to pull away for some air. Henry's hand fell from your cheek and back to your hand. "Come on let's go watch the movie with George." You got up and walked with him to the living room. George was still awake watching the movie. He looked up when he saw you and Henry. "Did you tell her Papa?" Henry nodded sitting next to him. "I did Buddy and it was the best thing ever." 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

@cristinagronk16 @pastelblogsposts @thereisa8ella @maan24 @tumblnewby @keiva1000

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