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captainlunaxmen · 3 months

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All For the Camera

Chapter 6

Finnick Odair x Fem!reader.

Finally! Here we are. I'm sorry, it took me so long. I had to create a new account and transfer all the fics here. And then I never had time to put my mind into this😅

I'm sorry, I hope you guys will like this chapter and let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapters.❤️❤️❤️

Chapter summary: the interviews!

Chapter warnings: mention of death, Cal is a warning, suicide hint (very light, but still)

Tag list

@guacam011y @justtrying2getby @idontevenknow1359 @alexandra-001 @bambikitten @maggiecc @redh00dsbf @haneybunny @1-800-styles @sisiking99 @merromimo @yourdailymemedelivery @regsg18 @gordorio @bambikitten @gracieeleanorr @shev3nom @honethatty12 @savingprivatecass @erindiggory @martahabla @sterredem @aawdrea @wpdarlingpan @strawberry--fawn @barbarathewanderer @ih8books @a-mysterious-potato @mayonesavegana @celinaiscrying @katherinejess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @abaker74 @syd649

I'm sorry if I can't tag everyone😔🥺

I walk into the living room, towards the big table finding Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch already there having breakfast... well Katniss and Peeta are, Haymitch just started drinking.

"Morning," I say sitting down.

"Good morning." Peeta smiles at me, a little forced, which I get... tomorrow they'll be sent to the arena.

"Hi." Katniss says.

"Morning, princess." Haymitch hands me a tea cup, I look at it rather suspiciously and when Haymitch smiles proudly I know he put some alcohol in it... so I take it.

Gladly.

"Good morning, everyone. Today's an important day!" Effie cheery voice echoes in the whole apartment as she enter and sit with us for breakfast.

"Indeed." I say with a sigh.

"When the whole team supposed to be here, Y/n?" She asks me.

"Uhm... around 5pm." I tell her.

"This means we will use this time to come up with a proper strategy, since you refuse any alliance." Haymitch then turns to me, "you'll help?"

"I can't... Plutarch wants to see me." I sadly say, "last minute details to fix, I think."

Haymitch nods.

"Can't you give us a tiny bit of hint?" Peeta jokes.

"Unfortunately, I can't say anything." I shrug standing up taking my jacket with me.

"Fine, keep your secret, Princess." Haymitch says, winking at me as I near the elevator doors. I smile at everyone and enter the elevator.

"Beware of the time, guys. Always." I say before the doors close.

------------------

"No allies?" Plutarch asks in disbelief, handing me a glass, he stands next to his desk in his office.

"No allies." I reply, slowly shaking my head no.

He sighs deeply, then stands up and moves a hand to his chin thinking.

"But..." I start, pointing his attention back on me, "Haymitch and I will take care of it." He arches an eyebrow, questioning, "I promise."

"They know nothing, right?" He checks.

"They know less than nothing." I tell him.

"Good." He nods, "the president doesn't want you to participate in the interview this year."

"Really?" I ask.

Usually Snow insisted on me being interviewed after all the tributes', to have the Capitol's people being represented, as he put it. It's a relief.

"Yeah, he only wants you to be interviewed almost at the end." He informs me, "you know, to have more people follow, waiting to hear from you, both about your tributes and your... wedding."

"Please, do me a favour... don't mention my wedding." I groan, "I'm not really planning on attending. You know."

He sends me a knowing look, then proceeds to hand me a piece of paper.

"What is it?" I ask, examining it.

"The 12 threats in the arena."

"I see he did enjoyed my ideas..." I say swallowing hard.

"You fooled him. He does think you're... coming around." Plutarch compliments me.

"No," I shake my head, reading the list, "no one can fool him. He doesn't trust anyone. He never underestimate anyone."

"Oh, my dear, we did." He smiles. "He has no suspects, whatsoever."

"You think?"

"We would be dead now, if he did." He reason and I nod, agreeing.

"It makes sense... but I still don't feel secure enough." I tell him.

"And you shouldn't." He sits next to me, "we're at the point we can't afford feeling secure. Not even for a moment."

I nod.

"Did... uhm..." I start, my mouth feeling dry all of a sudden, "did... Cal come by... recently?"

"Cal Kingslay?"

"Yeah..."

"No."

"Do you know if he talked to any of the other Gamemakers?" I insist.

"Not that I know of... and trust me, I would know." He tells me, "did he tell you something?"

"Just that he would make sure to not have... competition anymore." I sigh, closing my eyes frustrated.

"Just another thing to keep an eye out for." He pats my back, "now, "he stands again, "tonight's interviews. The tributes will try all they can to stop the games."

"Good fucking luck." I scoff, sadly.

"They'll try everything. So... we need to talk about the remote... very remote chance that they succeed." He continues.

"Yeah... sure." I say, fully unconvinced.

"It might happen." He keeps a dead serious tone, "loved victors, tributes the Capitol consider 'family', they just might succeed."

"Now, that's pretentious." I say, taking a big gulp from my glass, "but okay... so what if they succeed?"

"It's quite simple," he starts, "you will get to-"

A hard knock on the door interrupts him. Plutarch looks at me, tensing, giving me a look to say to stay calm and natural.

"Yes?"

"Sorry, Mr Heavensbee, Cal Kingslay is here to see you." One of the other Gamemakers announces, I look at Plutarch hoping to find comfort. He does looks at me with determination, so I know he will take care of it.

"Let him in." Plutarch agrees.

Not long after, Cak enters the room, before he can greet Plutarch, he notices me.

"My sweetness, what a surprise!" He exclaims.

"Hi, Cal." I say forcing out a smile.

"Miss L/n is my apprentice, I'm sure you knew she would be here." Plutarch says.

"Yes, I admit I was hoping to catch her. With all of her... obligations, I barely see her." Cal tries to justify himself, "I'm sure you can understand how love can be."

"Yeah... I have an idea." Plutarch smiles, after getting to know him, I can recognise when he's true and fake, and that's definitely a fake smile.

"So you get it..." he sighs, dreamily, "I can't wait to marry her," he looks at me, slightly biting his lips, "I'll finally have her full attention."

"Oh well, I hope you'll let us spend some time with her too," Plutarch challenges him, "she has a great brain. Plus she's my apprentice, she might be the next head Gamemaker one day."

"Yeah," Cal grits out, not liking at all the idea, "I'm sure we could think of something. "

"But, Mr Kingslay, tell me, did you want to talk to me about something?" Plutarch asks, putting his hands in his pocket, to show Cal he's not intimidated.

"Oh yes, actually I do." Cal nods, then turns to me, walking up to me taking my hands in his, "would you mind leaving us, sweetheart?"

"Sure." I say, probably way too quickly, my eyes fall to the clock on the wall "of course. I have to get back and help some of the Tributes get ready, anyway."

Cal kisses my hands softly, I fight the urge to snatch my hands back.

"I'll see you tomorrow for the beginning, miss L/n." Plutarch smiles.

"Of course, Mr Heavensbee."

I start to walk to the door, Cal reluctantly lets me go and I subtly rush out as soon as I can.

I jump immediately into the car ready to get back to the tributes centre.

------------------

I go to check in with Cinna about Katniss' outfit for tonight.

He leads me to the dressing room and my jaw drops as I spot the wedding dress in the middle of it.

"Oh my god..." I breath out.

"Glad you like it." Cinna says.

"If anything goes South and I end up marrying that cunt, I'm glad you're the one they chose to make my dress" I tell him, getting closer to the dress to inspect it better.

"You'd be a beautiful bride. Regardless of the husband." He compliments me and I genuinely smile at this.

"Thank you."

"I also added a special touch to it." He whispers.

"What did you do?" I ask, getting nervous.

"You'll see tonight." The determined look he has as he says this freezes me to the stop.

"Cinna..." I start, "what did you do?"

He just winks at me. "C'mon, go take a seat."

I reluctantly follow him out so he can be ready to help Katniss put on the dress, and I go find Haymitch, I take my seat next to him as Ceasar starts the show.

As always Ceasar hosts the show with his usual laugh and cheerfulness.

"Thank you, thank you!" He address the audience once he took his place in the center of the stage, "Thank you for being here tonight! On the eve of the 75th Hunger Games!" He laughs, "we have never seen anything like this and we will never see anything like it, again. Because tonight, on thus stage 24 of Panem's brightest starts will view for the ultimate crown. Tonight will be their final opportunity to express their thoughts. Our final opportunity to express our love and heartbreakingly to say goodbye to all but one."

Hypocrisy.

"What a night." He softly says, before screaming again, "let's hear it!"

And the crowd cheers louder than before.

"And I know, I know all of you want the gossip about THE wedding of the year, but you will have to wait."

The crowd makes sounds of disapproval, even though the cheering atmosphere remains.

"Can't spoil all the fun, can we?" He laughs again, "but don't you worry, the royal couple will tell us all the details eventually." He winks at the audience and finally the interviews can start.

"Kill me now." I whisper to Haymitch.

"And steal the fun to the president? Nah..." he jokes and I can't help but chuckle and move my attention back to the show.

Of course they start with district 1, Cashmere and Gloss, they interview them together and of fucking course, Cashmere will use the tears to try and make people stop the games... not the smartest choice, but still a choice.

Then it's 2 turn, then 3 where Beetee obviously tries to use logic, but unfortunately the Capitol's people are not smart enough to understand.

Then four...

I take a deep breath, hoping Finnick won't say anything he might regret.

"Finnick," Ceasar addresses him, "I understand that you have a message for somebody out there. A special somebody." He laughs, and Finnick shows his perfect smile, his perfect forced smile the Capitol loves so much, "can we hear it?" He then asks.

Finnick looks quickly out in the audience, I see him spotting me and I can see the slight hint of an actual smile on his lips.

"My love," he starts seriously and my breath is caught in my throat, "you have my heart, for all eternity, and" he pauses for a moment, " if... I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips."

"Guess he didn't listen to you, uh?" Haymitch says before drinking from his flask.

"No, he didn't." I sigh. I just hope Cal won't think anything of it.

Each victor has their own way of dealing with this special games and interviews. Some tries to pity the audience, some treats it as a normal interview and then there are some like Johanna who just want to let out all the anger they feel. Which is exactly what I would love to do myself.

Cinna arrives, and takes a seat on the other sode of me, Katniss must be ready.

"It's our turn, princess." Haymitch pats my knee as Ceaser announces Kantiss' arrival.

As Katniss joins Ceasar on stage I can finally admire the dress properly. She looks absolutely beautiful, it makes me even angrier knowing it's not her choice.

"You look fabulous!" Ceaser compliments her, "doesn't she?" He asks the audience who claps their hands vivaciously as Katniss just stands there, smiling, acting like the happy bride the Capitol wants.

"Now, Katniss, this is a very big and very emotional night for all of us. Wouldn't you say?"

"Don't go crying on me now, Ceasar." Katniss teases.

"I can't make promises you know me." He laugh with her, enjoying the exchange.

"You know I wouldn't believe you, even if you did." Katniss, surprisingly, jokes again and Ceaser laughs even harder.

"I love her!" Ceaser exclaims, "the firl on fire is so cheeky!" He slowly turns more serious, "but Katniss, on a more serious note. I think we're all a little disappointed, more than a little disappointed, that a certain wedding did not take place. We all hoped to celebrate a double wedding this year. Didn't we folks? Alas. But am I correct in assuming that this is the gown that you would have worn on that day, yes or no?"

As Ceaser speak, I watch Katniss tensing.

"Yes, president Snow thought everyone would want to see it." Katniss answer, with a fake sweet smile at the end.

"Well, President Snow, as usual, was right. Was he not, folks?" He cheers. "I love it! I love it! Don't you love it, folks? It's incredible. It's so gorgeous. Will you do us the honour? Please? Please? Please?"

Ceaser looks like a child asking for candy as he steps back a little to let Katniss have more space to spin.

I tense up in my seat, glance slightly to Cinna next to me.

As Katniss spins her dress, as expected, catches on fire... but it's burning the dress now, I look at Cinna questioning then back at Katniss.

The dress burns to the point of having wings appearing on her...

"It's a bird!" Ceaser exclaims, trying to guess, "it's got feathers. It's like a bird..."

I recognise the Mockingjay.

I look at Cinna, then at Haymitch, who has a stern look on his face.

"Your stylist certainly has outdone himself this time, hasn't he?" Ceaser comments, shock written all over his face, " what theatricality! Cinna!" He then calls, "take a bow!"

The cameras are now on Cinna who stands and takes all the applauses the crows is giving him.

But Snow is not going to like it...

I pretend to cheer like everyone else, but inside I'm scared, defeated...

As the cheers die down a little, to let Katniss exit the stage and join the other tributes, we sit back down and I feel Cinna taking my hand to give it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. A way of saying "it's okay."

Once Peeta gets on stage, Ceasar doesn't waste any more time and asks again about the wedding.

"But, Peeta, the wedding, the marriage, never to be?" He asks.

"Well, actually, we got married." The crowd whispers and gasps, "in secret." He adds.

Nice move, Peeta.

"A secret wedding?" Ceasar asks with a laugh. "All right. Do tell."

"We want our love to be eternal."

A bunch of 'awws' erupt from the audience.

"You know, Katnis and I, we've been luckier than most. And I wouldn't have any regrets at all if it weren't... if..." he starts to stutter.

I wonder what he has in mind, I again try to look for answers in Haymitch, but he is just as interested as I am.

"If it weren't for what? What?" Ceasar urges him.

"If it weren't for the baby." Peeta finally says.

The audience explodes at this. People shouting, gasping, waving their hands, ceasar tries to contain the situation, but fails.

I see Peeta looking towards us, with the faintest smirk and me and Haymitch nod at him, quite surprised.

"Did you suggest it?" Haymitch asks.

"Nope." I say, "you?"

"Neither."

Ceaser motion for Peeta to join the others, clearly he has no idea what to do to calm the people, who simply keep on screaming to stop the games.

But as Ceasar keeps trying to contain the theater, the tributes behind him grab each other's hands to raise them together.

This fills my heart with hope, but the lights are cut off soon and the whole room falls into darkness.

-----------------

I can't help my bouncing leg as we all wait for Plutarch to come out and tell us the fate of the games.

"He won't cancel them." I whisper to Haymitch, making sure the other mentors and guards can't listen, "not now that he has a chance to kill her for good."

"I know." He sighs, patting my legs.

"And Cinna.." I choke out.

"I know, I know."

The doors open and Plutarch comes out with a look that doesn't bring good news.

"The games are still on." He simply says before walking off.

Everyone, walk away to the elevators.

We meet Effie on the way.

"So?" She asks and we shake our heads, "oh poor kids..."

The elevator ride to 12 is silent.

We find Katniss and Peeta in the living room.

"Baby bomb was a stroke of genius." Haymitch starts, I nod, "Unfortunately, games are still on. This is a goodbye, for now."

Katniss nods, determined and defeated at the same time.

"Presents." Effie chimes in, I can see her eyes are humid though, "for you three."

She hands me, Haymitch and Peeta a small box.

"What is this?" Haymitch asks, opening his box and finding inside a golden bracelet resembling flames, I open mine and find a golden ring, similar to Haymitch's bracelet.

"Your token, remember?" Effie tells him, "hair for me, pin for Katniss. Gold bangle for you, gold ring for Y/n and for Peeta the medallion we talked about."

"Thank you, Effie." Peeta says, voice soft with gratitude.

"We're a team." She says, "aren't we?"

I can tell she cares so much about this two, it warms my heart.

Katniss nods, giving her a sweet smile.

"Of course we are." I agree.

"And I am so proud of my Victors," she says, hugging Peeta, "so proud" she hugs Katniss, "you both deserved so much better." She's fully crying now, so I gently rub her back, "I am truly sorry."

She lets out one last small sob and walk away leaving us four.

"Thank you, both." Peeta hugs Haymitch while Katniss wraps her arms around me.

"Thank you, Y/n. Really." She whispers and I nod, giving her one last squeeze before letting go.

I turn to hug Peeta.

"Don't lose yourself in there, okay?" I ask.

"Never." He hugs me tightly, "Thank you."

We pull away, I give him a smile, both to assure him and to give me strength.

"Any last advice?" Katniss asks Haymitch.

"Stay alive." He answers.

And we both walk away, though Katniss calls Haymitch back and I keep going towards the elevator.

To district 4 apartments.

I step into the room, looking around, I hear someone coming and my eyes lock with Mags'. With just one look, she knows why I'm here.

She walks to me to embrace me, squeezing me tighter to assure me she's okay.

I pull away to look at her.

"I'm sorry." I whisper and she shakes her head, puts a hand on her heart and hugs me one more time before walking away.

Soon after Finnick comes out, clearly looking for me. He softly smiles at me and shrugs.

"Hey," he greets, "think positively... You'll get to see me in action again."

I roll my eyes, I still keep a distance, none of us dare to step closer.

"Don't do anything stupid." I warn him.

"As if..." He's still smiling, "you got me out once. I trust you."

I nod, my eyes burn and I blink to keep the tears at bay.

"Stay alive long enough to let me." I say, softly, he nods.

We stay silent for a moment. I'm scared, I don't know what could happen in the arena, I don't know if any of the threats will hurt him, I don't know if he will survive...

I rush to him, I hug him tightly and he immediately reciprocates, holding me to him.

I don't need him to speak to know all he wants to say. That everything is going to be okay, that we will get them all out, that we will finally go to 13 and start this rebellion... just like I don't need him to speak to know he's scared, just like me.

I don't want to let go, I just want to stay like this, in the warmth of his arms.

He kisses the top of my head, giving me one last squeeze before pulling away just enough to look at me.

"I trust you." He repeats, "my love."

I nod, determined to get him and everyone out of there.

I see him moving a hand to my face, wiping away a tear I haven't noticed. He keeps the hand there and I really wish I could just give in... for once.

Thankfully, or not, we hear the elevator's doors opening so we pull away, I quickly wipe my face from any possible tear and pull myself together.

"Is there any... oh!" Cal's voice makes me jump, I wasn't expecting him at all, "My princess! What are you doing here?"

I can sense his tone is accusatory and I don't like it, not one bit.

"I was simply wishing him and Mags good luck for the games, Cal." I quickly explain, I can see in the corner of my eyes Finnick nodding his head, forcing out his confident smile.

"Aw... how sweet." Cal says, flatly, which means he is either not convinced or he doesn't like it, both option aren't good.

"But what are you doing here?" I ask, walking to him.

"Oh you know," he starts, wrapping an arm around me, possessively, "general's duties to perform. After the caos in the theatre we wanted to make sure there were no more... inconveniences." He says looking straight at Finnick, whose expression turns serious, angry.

"Well, as you can see, everything is in order." I tell him, putting a hand on his chest, maybe this will distract him.

"Is it?" Again with the accusatory tone.

"Of course." I smile, "why wouldn't it be?"

Cal considers me for a moment, that seems endless, he then smiles, as if to appease me.

"No reason, of course." He turns to look at Finnick, tightening his grasp on me, "May the odds be ever in your favour."

"Thanks, Cal." Finnick nods, " I can't wait to be back to you."

Finnick says this both to show Cal he's not scared and also as a message for me.

"Neither can I." Cal say through gritted teeth.

He then walks back to the elevator, dragging me to with him.

I take one last glance at Finnick, his fists clenching, he winks at me before I have to turn away from him.

Cal's arm is still around me when the doors close.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" He asks.

"Uhm... no?" I pretend to be confused, "why? Is something wrong?"

I turn to face him, but his hand is suddenly grabbing me by the neck, pushing me against the elevator's wall. My eyes widen and immediately hold his wrist to push him off.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you, my sweetness?" He asks, with a sweet tone, which terrifies me even more.

"No... Cal..." I weakly mutter out.

"No?" He asks again.

"Of... of course not." I keeo try to push him away, "you're.. you're hurting me, Cal." I choke out.

"I hope you enjoy your little job..." he move his face closer to mine, "because once we're married... you belong to me, my princess, do you understand?" He growls, and I nod, "say it."

"I... I understand." Speaking feels so hard.

"Good girl." He smiles.

"Let... let go..." I ask, never once stopped pushing at his hand.

"Your fight is one of the things I love the most about you, you know?" He whispers, his lips too close to mine now, "but I won't tolerate it much longer."

I nod in understanding.

"Yes... C-cal." I say, after he slightly glared at me.

"Good girl." He says before kissing me.

He lets my neck go and I gasp for air, pushing him away as I catch my breath. His hand find its way into my hair, he grabs it and pulls me up again.

"Have a good night, tomorrow's is a big day." He whispers into my ear.

He leaves a kiss on my cheek, and thankfully the doors open again to the first floor, and he steps out of the elevator.

I still catch my breath, but when the doors close, I collapse on the floor. I can't keep in the sobs forming in my throat. I softly caress the skin of my neck, it's going to bruise tomorrow, I'll have to ask Effie to help me cover it up.

I take a very deep breath, pull the jacket around and wait for the elevator to arrive back to 12.

Everything is quiet and dark, maybe everyone is asleep, so I walk into the kitchen to get some water.

"Hey."

I jump and turn around, Peeta looks at me alarmed. I let out a sigh of relief once I see him.

"Sorry... hi." I say.

"Are you okay?" He cautiously walks closer.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm okay, Peeta." I tell him, I notice his eyes are on my neck and I quickly cover it.

"What happened?" He asks.

"Nothing, really don't worry about me." I smile at him.

"You remember my first night here?" He asks and I nod, sighing as I already know what he's hinting at, "I asked you not to worry about me, but you ignored me, stayed and helped me feel better."

"That was different," I try to smile, "you were about to face death. I'm not."

"But you're my friend." He states.

I look at him, it warms my heart, I know we all created a bond, but hearing him openly calling me a friend makes my heart ache in a good way.

I sigh, deciding to just tell him.

"I met Cal in the elevator." I say, "he found me talking to Finnick and... he definitely didn't like it." I see him opening his mouth to say something, "I'm okay. And I can handle him."

"It... it shouldn't be like that..."

"Just like you all being thrown into an arena to fight for your life." I sadly smile, "I'm okay, Peeta, really."

He nods, gives me one last look, to check on me, and walks back to his room.

I sit in the kitchen, still caressing the skin of my neck. It hurts. I let the tears fall freely.

I need this to go well, we all need this to go well, I don't think I would survive this time if I lose them all...

I wouldn't want to survive.

#finnick imagine #finnick odair fic #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick x reader #the hunger games x y/n #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games fic #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games #finnick odair fluff #finnick fluff

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aziraphales-library · 3 months

Note

Do you know of any fics where it takes place at episode 6 and instead of the heartbreaking ending 🤧 Aziraphale doesn't get offered a promotion and instead Crowley and azi go off to there "brunch at the Ritz" thank you

Here are some fics in which they go for that alcoholic breakfast at the Ritz...

Lily Of The Valley by TheCopperBeeches (G)

In which Crowley and Aziraphale travel in a very yellow Bentley and have breakfast at the Ritz, after their declarations of love.

Us Time by MISinformation (G)

A canon divergent AU where the Metatron never came, Crowley and Aziraphale get their extraordinary alcoholic breakfast at the Ritz, and they talk about their feelings.

An EXTREMELY Alcoholic Breakfast At The Ritz by Vicky87 (T)

Where Aziraphale does indeed tell The Metatron just where he can shove it and he and Crowley do go for an EXTREMELY alcoholic breakfast at The Ritz…with an addition.

A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square by Saphira99 (G)

In which Aziraphale declines Metatron's offer and dines at the Ritz.

Gravity, or Other Forces of Attraction by MeteorRain (T)

Without the pressure of heaven and hell behind them, Aziraphale and Crowley finally begin to acknowledge certain things about each other and their relationship.

At Any Moment Now by Tossukka (T)

In which Aziraphale realizes that he has made a terrible mistake, and Crowley is grumpy that his car loves the angel more than him. It’s lucky that Muriel can spend hours reading in the coffee shop.

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #fix-it #dining at the ritz #mod d

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lifeiskentastic · 9 months

Text

gn!Reader in one car with Holland March in the middle of a traffic jam

Gif by @adoresbenho

A/N: Tell me, would you read a fanfic about Ryan Gosling's five-minute role as a lecherous elf on snl New Year's episode? (this sounds so crazy, but Ryan is so cute with the pointy ears, bangs, and tall hat... I just need to write it.)

Summary: Agency partner Reader once again gets stuck in a traffic jam with Holland;

Song I recommend: Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen was just made ror Holland;

Word count: 724 words;

Nice reading!

It was just another morning as the third member (counting from the moment of join, although Holland always argued with Hilly to take over as "second" as if it were something really important) of the detective agency. It was just another morning traffic jam in Los Angeles, the only advantage of which was extra time to shave or drink a cup of coffee. After all, as it turned out, working as a detective requires punctuality, which in the case of Holland March was a big problem. So from the very beginning of the day, you were in a hurry, rushing to get things done, and only during irreparable traffic jams could you afford to exhale.

Holland could finally shave, and you could have a cup of strong coffee instead of breakfast.

For such occasions, Holland even kept a thermos of coffee and mountains of plastic cups in the car. No matter how many times you persuaded him to get rid of at least half of them, he categorically refused, calling it a "necessity of life." Well, given that he also used them to drink his liter-long supply of alcohol, it's not surprising.

The only thing that remained a mystery even to the three detectives was why a jar of whipped cream kept appearing in the glove compartment of his car. Although you had a bold guess that after you told Holland that you loved whipped cream coffee, he took it too much to heart.

"Do you think Healy is there yet?"

You asked, sipping from your cup.

"Oh, yeah, Mr.I'm-right-on-time-because-this-is-an-important-job has been there since sunrise."

You couldn't help but laugh out loud at that. The special relationship between your two partners couldn't help but make you laugh, literally, every day.

Holland beamed with pride when he managed to make you laugh.

"Oh, and also..."

But another laugh from you didn't let March finish his sentence. But what could you do? Still, the naive look on Holland's face with a piece of shaving foam on his cheek was more amusing than you could have imagined.

"Pfft... Ha-ha, wait..."

You reached for his cheek to brush away the remaining lather as Holland watched you in pure embarrassment. His eyes looked even more confused when you were a few millimeters away from his face.

However, you quickly returned to your seat, showing traces of white, puffy foam on your palm.

"Is that what made you giggle so much?"

This made you think back to that unsuspecting look on March's face, caught up in his own joke, and made you laugh uncontrollably again.

"I'm sorry... You just looked so cute."

"Did I?"

Holland leaned closer to your seat, scrutinizing every part of your face. You were about to ask what he was going to do, but...

"Aha! Found it!"

His head came as close to yours as possible, and he touched something near the tips of your lips with a triumphant exclamation.

"Is that cream? You're such a sloven."

Holland's finger did indeed show traces of cream from your coffee. And your partner seemed to be expecting some kind of funny reaction from you, looking expectantly into your soul, but you were honestly not in the mood for it... Still, your heart was still racing from being so close to Holland. For some reason, when there were so small distance between the two of you, you began to feel strange jolts inside your chest.

When you barely regained consciousness, the only thing you could do was to move your whole body as close to Holland as possible, making your partner's eyes widen in surprise once again. You didn't know what was driving you at that moment, but you knew you had to work, and you were within a pinkie nail's distance of March's face.

"You're one to talk..."

You ran your fingers through Holland's mustache, wiping away the subtle streaks of shaving foam that had started this whole thing.

Although you wanted something like this, you hadn't expected Holland to do it first. That he would push forward, quickly crossing the short distance between you, and confidently touch your lips. Of course, you immediately returned his kiss.

It seems that car horns were already blaring behind you and angry drivers were furious, but for now you were too busy with each other to pay attention to such trifles.

#holland march #holland march x reader #holland march fluff #holland march x you #the nice guys #the nice guys not the fall guy alright #ryan gosling fanfiction #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #fanfiction #fluff fic #nice guys #gn reader #x you #x reader #the nice guys fanfiction #ryan gosling imagine

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octuscle · 10 months

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Ok, so, I may have fucked up really bad this time; drunk, horny and a chronivac really don't mix well... I was getting home from the club, i awanted some action and I was very drunk, so I may have asked the chronivac to make my life like a porn movie... Now I just woke up, and when I tried to take my phone to cancel the setting, it was overheating so much it almost burnt me, making it impossible to use it. I feel myself already changing, and I'm a bit afraid (but also curious) about what day will expect me after I get up from bed...

As a rule, alcohol, horniness and the Chronivac are indeed not a good combination. But in your case you were lucky. Do you already notice something about the bed? It's not your bed anymore. That's a hotel room. If you open the curtain, you have a wonderful view of the Rhine. Welcome to Cologne Pride! You have four days of hard work ahead of you: parties, autograph sessions, interviews, participation in the parade, even more parties.

But to cut a good figure, you should work out for an hour before breakfast. Your body has to be flawless in the next few days. For breakfast, I've laid out the leather hot pants and high boots for you. For the grand entrance, I would leave the upper body naked. Just don't forget your sunglasses. Afterwards, the Louis Vuitton store has booked you for a performance in the shop window. Open air lunch with the mayor and other celebrities. In the afternoon you are the guest of honour at the opening of a Tom of Finland exhibition. Then two hours of free time. And in the evening you have to show up at three parties for at least two hours each.

There are plenty of bottles of Evian in your backpack. You don't touch drugs or alcohol anyway. And despite all the stress, the weekend has one decisive advantage for you in contrast to a million visitors to Cologne Pride: definitely no sex! This is pure relaxation.

#male tf #muscle tf #chronivac #reality change #tank top

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wardenparker · 4 months

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At First Sight

Alan McMichael x female Reader

Rating: G for General Audiences, but this blog is always 18+! Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Alcohol, flirting, period manners, fluff, scheming family members, undesirable dance partners. Summary: Alan's sister Eunice is finally engaged and their mother is throwing a grand ball to celebrate. It is the last place that he wants to be...until he meets a young lady who wants to be there just as little as he does. Notes: It's been so, so very long since I wrote anything solo. Please be kind -- all errors are my own, and this is definitely not beta read. It's just a little piece inspired by my downtime at work and countless rewatches of Crimson Peak. Alan deserves some happiness, so I wanted to give him a bit. If there's interest I'll try to write more for these two, but I'll understand entirely if there's not. Thank you so so very much for reading! Dedicated to @julesonrecord for her tireless patience in putting up with me babbling about this character and how he deserved better. And to @ruflirtingwithme for always letting me keep Wade in my pocket wherever I go. There's a bit of him in this as well, for sure.

Despite the tailoring of his tuxedo, the familiar weight of the costume, and the well-traveled ballroom he finds himself standing in, Alan McMichael shifts uncomfortably. He’s lost weight this past year, worry and injury taking their toll, and the tailor assured him that it could barely be seen but took his jacket and the waist of his trousers in anyway. He isn’t as fit as he once was. He isn’t as strong. Not since he followed Edith up that mountain in England, only to bring her back down again to dual hospitalizations and true exhaustion. The doctors at the sanatorium don’t allow him to visit anymore .They say it causes episodes of hysteria.

So now they must live inside their own heads separately, and his mother has taken that as meaning it is time to push him to move on. “It’s for the best.” His mother had said. But Alan couldn’t be sure. Still, he was forced to resume his everyday life, and now it has been a full year since that fateful trip to Crimson Peak.

Eunice’s engagement has been a blessing to distract Mrs. McMichael. Her ploy to whisk her daughter off to New York City in the early summer had paid odd and now Eunice is engaged to the son of some banker who claimed to have an ancestor lead the charge at the Battle of Cowpens. They were all, Mrs. McMicheals told everyone in earshot, quite proud.

Now it was Alan’s turn to once again have marriage prospects pushed on him, and he stood in the ballroom ready to receive guests alongside his father with a false smile and a belly full of dread.

* * * * * *

“I thought you didn’t like Mrs. McMichaels?” The question hands in the air as you finish getting ready for the ball this evening. Spending the Christmas holiday in Buffalo with your aunt and uncle had been your brother’s idea – trying to see that you were taken care of without directly saying that having you in his house would be a burden. So you had reluctantly agreed, giving most of your staff the better part of three weeks off and taking only your maid with you to Buffalo.

It’s not that I dislike her entirely, dear heart,” your aunt Joan insists. “I adore her soirees.”

“How foolish of me.” It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes but your maid recognizes the expression and smiles privately. “I ought to have known. You and Uncle Christian will want to stay until daybreak, won’t you?”

“Certainly.” Aunt Joan quips, appraising herself in her vanity mirror. “Her cook makes the most divine fruit crepes.”

You could point out that her usual overt piety discourages desire and gluttony, but at near seventy years of age, your great-aunt has earned a little indulgence from life. Instead you hum a non-committal agreement and pick up your gloves., “Then it will be well worth staying until breakfast,” you encourage, offering her a smile instead.

“Indeed.” She seems most pleased at the prospect and shoes your maids away with finality. “Your dance card must be full tonight, child,” she warns with an alarming hint of mischief in her voice. “If we want you engaged before the worst of winter snows threaten to keep us all at home.”

* * * * * *

The McMichael’s ballroom shimmers with candlelight and each guest who is announced at the door is another jewel in the crown of the evening. Mrs. McMichaels flits about like a bird with a rare and precious seed, showing it off to everyone around her, and the guests who have eagerly arrived first bask in the shared glow of witnessing such good fortune. Fortunately, very certainly it is a fortunate thing, your Aunt Joan and Uncle Christian do not believe in arriving early to parties. They believe in leaving their home at the time the party is listed as beginning in order to appear both desirably busy and aloof, which means that your trio is squarely in the second half of arrivals to the McMichael house this evening. Even if it is only by a measure of twenty or thirty minutes, the less time you must spend with eligible men being foisted upon you, the better.

“Mr. and Mrs. Christian Tate,” are announced along with your name, and Aunt Joan practically shoves your out in front of them to make sure you’re seen. Not that anyone would have noticed you otherwise, so perhaps it’s wise. The peacock colored gown you chose shimmers softly in the gaslight, but the ballrooms of Buffalo do not have the large, expansive windows and glass doors that you are accustomed to in Newport. It is all mahogany and walnut paneling here, and all the ladies but you – in their pinks and creams and honey yellows – knew better. You will be lost in wainscotted corners in your deep blue, green, and purple hues. Though perhaps it is for the best. This is not your society anyway. You have no intention of ending your time in Buffalo engaged no matter what Aunt Joan might intend.

The two gentlemen at the center of the ballroom could not be anymore obviously father and son, but where the father jokes and jovially signs dance cards at praise of his skills in the country dances, the son seems dour and aloof. His pinched smile does not precisely forbid conversation but it certainly does not encourage it, and he all but sighs in resignation when your Uncle Christian seems happy to see him.

“My wife’s great-niece,” you hear him saying, just before you are shuttled forward again. “Visiting from Newport for the holidays.”

“A pleasure,” the man intones, though you cannot think he means it.

“Is it?” You offer your hand only because your aunt clears her throat so pointedly. But it is at this point that the skyscraper with blonde hair you are being introduced to chuckles. The sound is broken but warm, and you are not so displeased with being here that you miss the way his blue eyes sparkle like aquamarine in the flickering light.

“Perhaps,” he muses, catching the dance card dangling from your wrist before you can take your hand back. “Perhaps you are the first young lady to arrive tonight not to simper and curtsy over the supposed honor of being my mother’s guest. And perhaps I can recognize a fellow soul was was strong-armed into attending.” He looks tired, the heaviness of it hanging deep in his handsome features. Because yes, he is handsome. Intriguingly and admirably so. But that isn’t what is drawing you in to him like a rope tied into your ribcage that tugs you forward whenever he speaks. It’s something else. “Perhaps we will be allies tonight, you and I.”

“Allies?” You watch his hand as he claims both waltzes on your dance card, the first gentleman to do so and claiming what are arguably the most intimate of dances. “How terribly Napoleonic of you,” you droll in response.

He laughs again, a little more deeply, and shrugs his shoulders. “I would avoid the elder Mr. Davies if I were you,” he advises, clearly demonstrating his intent as that very ally he has claimed to be. “His wife passed last spring leaving him with three young children. He has become so desperate for a wife that he is inclined to propose to almost any new young lady he meets.”

“How very concerning for the young ladies.” You murmur back, glancing over at the man being subtly pointed out to you. He is squirrelish and balding, all the hair on his head seeming to have fallen to the bushy mustache adorning his upper lip. “Is there anyone else I ought to be wary of?”

“Oh, a dozen at least.” The mischief returns to this man-shaped mountain’s eyes and he offers you his arm. “It is well worth discussing. Perhaps over punch?”

“Mr. McMichael, I think you are using me as an excuse to abandon the receiving line.” You hum in amusement, not really able to say you blame him for such a thing. Or that you mind.

“Perhaps.” His grin has a shade of mischief and guilt to it. “But perhaps you are using me to avoid the attention of other guests who might bore, annoy, or otherwise rankle you, or even step on your shoes. Which I’m sure are quite beautiful and not to be defiled. This arrangement seems better for us both, don’t you think? I can promise you with surety that it has been more than a decade since I trod on a lady’s slipper at a ball.”

“I had intended to feign lightheadedness from the crowded ballroom halfway through the night,” you confess with a sly expression all your own. “Perhaps I still will. Or perhaps this mischief will prove diversion enough all on its own.”

* * * * * *

There have been many dances in your life that have made you terribly glad for the barrier of gloves between you and the man leading. Whether it was their manners that were unsuitable, the sweat of their palms, or some unsavory odor lingering around them like a drought-stricken pond, there seemed always to be some partners with whom dancing was as undesirable as an overturned stagecoach.

Tonight you fear it might be you.

Dr. McMichael — Alan, he has insisted that you call him Alan — is a divine dancer. The grandeur of his stature does nothing to inhibit his grace and as he twirls you both about the ballroom you have the oddest sensation of floating that has ever been. But as if grace and poise were not enough, the man has a damning and wicked sense of humour as well. It has taken only the smallest encouragement from you to earn you scathing reviews of the other partygoers from you. The descriptions have you nearly in hysterics in his arms, but worse yet is the way that he smiles. It is a sly and puckish expression that makes his eyes light and sparkle in the candlelight, and every time he aims it at you, you can feel yourself sweat in the most unbecoming and unladylike way.

Moist palms or a damp dress back do not make for a desirable partner, and all you can do is hope desperately that your gloves and corset are providing ample barrier so that he has no idea how deeply those smiles and jokes and bright eyes are affecting you.

“I must sound deeply cynical,” he comments after a pause. He has just told you the story of the two Misses Shrewsbury and their positively ghastly attempt at conning the attendants of a seance he attended in Albany some years ago. “I am not. Or at least I do not mean to be.”

“Is it society that you disapprove of? Or faith?” Neither question is a judgment on your part, but you tilt your head to him conspiratorially as you dance. “I have found myself weary of both in the past, that is why I ask.”

“It is neither,” Alan admits, though he does so with a wistful sigh. “I think perhaps I yearn for times past when I reveled in dancing and philosophical pursuits. When the contents of conversation at a dinner party provided fascination for days afterward.” Subtly, so that you can feel it but it is not seen to the plain-eyes observer, he shrugs. “Life soldiers on, I suppose.”

“It does.” You cannot dispute that, and you would not try. You know the trudging on of time as well as any other touched by tragedy. “May I ask what changed? Or is that impertinent?”

“It is not impertinent.” He casts his eye around the room then back down at you. “But I am afraid it is not polite, either. I would not shock you so, to tell it all. I will only say that I lost my dear friend very recently.”

“Then I am very sorry to hear it, but I have every belief in your humanity. Your taste for society, your faith, and your fascinations will return.” The look on his face says he wonders how you can be so sure, and you half-smile. The hint of sadness in your eyes keeps it from becoming full. “Take the word of an orphan of two beloved parents, Dr. McMichael. You will come back to life again after the loss of your friend. It may simply take time.”

“Alan,” he presses softly, reminding you of his insistence. “And I am sorry to hear of your sadness, as well. But it seems that perhaps God or the ghosts of our past have seen fit to introduce us tonight. Whichever it is that you believe in.”

“Whichever it is, I welcome their intervention.” It seems to you at this point that he does not care much for spiritualism or ghosts of any kind, so you will not speak your mind on that topic. As for God? His guidance has not been the one you sought in many years. No, tonight you will not give credence to any of it, if only to keep the mood light and perhaps make Alan laugh again. “I think, however, that I shall ascribe it entirely to my great-uncle. As he was the one to see us introduced.”

“So he was.” As the song ends, Alan bows quite deeply in deference to his admirable partner. “I believe I shall have to thank him for it.”

* * * * * *

“Why don’t I know the girl your son has been doting on all night?” Mrs. McMichael is behind her fan to her husband from the edge of the dance floor, inspecting the dancing and overseeing the needs of all her guests. Her guests. Which is why she is so perturbed not to be able to identify this young woman immediately. “Who is her family? She must be with one of your business associates, yes?”

“Let Alan flirt.” Edwin McMichael waves one hand dismissively, not even looking in his only son’s direction. “It’s good for him. He’s been too dour for too long.”

“I don’t care if he flirts.” Ellen ruffles, her lips pursed and ready for an argument. “So long as he flirts with the correct young ladies.”

“How do you know she is not correct?”

“Because I do not know who she is or who she came with.”

“She is Christian Tate’s great-niece.”

Ellen’s nose wrinkles. “The orphan?”

“The orphan with an eight million dollar inheritance and a palatial cottage in Newport in her name.” Mr. McMichael raises one eyebrow as he peers down at his wife, knowing precisely the sort of affect this news will have on his wife. After all, she married him for his fortune — why should Alan not marry a fortune as well? “Let Alan flirt. It makes him smile.”

* * *

He finds you again later, outside of the ballroom when you’ve wandered away to breath air that hasn’t come from the mouths of five other people first and doesn’t smell distinctly of stale cigars and brandy. He finds you when you are slumped, unladylike, in the window seat of his father’s library gazing out the window at the snow as it drifts lazily down from the pitch-black sky.

“I thought you’d run away on me.” His voice is light but the undercurrent of worry, or else embedded sadness, is there if you listen. Like a weariness that had taken hold in him sometime since the loss of his friend that he had not been able to shake. Rather than apologizing for it or paying it any mind, Alan simply holds out one of the delicate cups of mulled wine that he brought with him when he went in search of you. “I’m very glad to see that isn’t the case.”

“I had to make myself scarce from the quadrille,” you admit, having the good sense to look at least a little sheepish about it. “That Mr. Davies…the one you warned me about? He caught sight of the fact that I had been left out of the dance before and attached himself to me.” Though the conversation could not be considered so terrible to be characterized as harrowing or torturous or anything as dramatic as all that, you still had not enjoyed his overbearing presence and unfortunate lack of manners. “I’m afraid that I feigned a headache to excuse myself.”

He laughs. Truly and thoroughly, and from his belly. Alan McMichael laughs so entirely that you bury your face in one hand after you accept the offered drink from his hand and you sigh audibly. “I’m sorry…” he chuckles, gasping for a dramatic sigh when he can catch his breath. “ It’s just that you’re so terribly apologetic and sweet about it. No one would be cross with you for avoiding an impertinent man old enough to be your father.”

“I see you have not met my Aunt Joan.” With a dutiful but resigned sigh, you stand from your place of respite and sip the rather delicious drink that he has brought you. At precisely 4:02 in the morning it is both horrifyingly too late for such a drink and far too terribly early – a dichotomy that delights you. “She has done her best to see me partnered with every single man here tonight. It is only my ill luck that I encountered the only desirable partner so early in the night. To dance together a third time would expose us both to comment.”

“So?” Alan sips his own wine and gazes down at you curiously, wondering whether or not you actually give a damn about all of this convention and these rules that seem to have been mutually agreed upon by the same people who determined what food is served at each course at formal suppers. That is – someone very long ago and far away that no one can remember any longer. “I’d like to dance with you again. And you just said that you’d like to dance with me. So who gives a damn if someone talks about it?”

“Won’t your mother be cross with you?” He had said something earlier about his mother wanting him to dance with just every young lady at the ball tonight. And you know for certain that he has not just as you have not danced with every single man.

“My mother is routinely cross with me.” He admits, enjoying a laugh at the truth of it. “I try not to let it disappointment me too much.”

It is all you can do to consider him – broad shoulders stretching that jacket of his and bright eyes sparkling with mischief, the tilt of his smile and the invitation of his outstretched hand – before you are sighing in a rather dramatic show of resignation that barely shields the actual delight written on your face. “Very well,” you acquiesce, taking his hand and giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Let us be the object of idle gossip tomorrow. Let tongues wag. I will be gone in a week anyhow and that will be the end of it. For tonight, at least, we shall have a bit of fun.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo

Alan Tags: @nrthernsong @inept-the-magnificent @trulybetty @justcallmebirdie @jefferson-in-the-tardis @thesluttylittleknee @munsonownsmyass @laurfilijames @hudson-bay-girl @ruflirtingwithme @rhoorl @scorpio-marionette @absurdthirst

My Masterlist!

#Charlie Hunnam #Charlie Hunnam character fanfiction #Charlie Hunnam fanfic #Alan McMichael #Alan McMichael x you #Alan McMichael x reader #Alan McMichael x female reader #Alan McMichael x f!reader #Crimson Peak #period romance #just some flirts #I don't even know what I'm doing

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crowleysaziraphale2003 · 1 month

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Here's another fic I posted on AO3, about six months ago. I've fixed some errors I noticed were in the original, which I'll also fix on AO3 soon. Enjoy! :)

(CW for swearing).

A Four Letter Word

"You know, Crowley, I've always said, deep down, you really are quite a nice-"

Aziraphale didn't have any time to react before Crowley scowled and angrily slammed him against the wall. "Shut it! I'm a demon, I'm not nice! I'm never nice, nice is a four letter word. I will not have people thinking I'm nice!"

"Well, if you insist, Crowley," Aziraphale responded, quirking an eyebrow up at him. He was conscious of the way that Crowley had a death grip on the lapels of his jacket. And, just to think, he put the utmost care into keeping it in mint condition! In fact, he'd literally told Crowley that. "You wily old serpent, messing up my jacket," he half-scolded, his heart not really in it. He was too preoccupied with gazing longingly at Crowley's lips. Their bodies were pressed together, their noses were sinfully close.

All it would take was one movement and-no. He couldn't possibly let himself want what he was never allowed to have.

"Well," Crowley murmured, his voice low. "I can certainly mess up more than that for you, if you'd like."

Aziraphale couldn't tell whether Crowley was threatening him, flirting with him, or both.

"Whatever are you on about, Crowley?" he asked, confusion lacing his voice.

"You idiot," Crowley growled, leaning forward and pressing his lips to the angel's. Oh, Aziraphale thought. Fuck. It felt so good, admittedly almost too good, to feel the movement of the demon's surprisingly soft lips against his own, to trace his thumb along the nape of Crowley's neck, eliciting a very interesting noise from Crowley indeed. To feel Crowley's hands move from the lapels of his jacket to his hair, to move his hands so they were rubbing circles into the demon's back.

Alas, all good things have to come to an end, and therefore, so did their kiss.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, sorry to break up an intimate moment. Can I help you?"

With great reluctance, Crowley let go of Aziraphale and turned his head to the speaker that had so rudely interrupted them. Aziraphale's gaze lingered on Crowley's lips for just a few seconds longer, before he too turned his head.

Right. Armageddon. They had the end of the world to prevent. Best get to it, then.

"If this doesn't all burn down into rubble, after all of this is over, you and I are having an extremely alcoholic breakfast at the Ritz," was all Crowley had to say about the matter, once they'd walked away from Sister Mary Loquacious. Aziraphale allowed himself a small smile.

After all, the conversation they needed to have was many, many years overdue.

"I look forward to it, dear."

PS-I'm taking paid writing commissions. DM me if interested for more info!

#writers on tumblr #writing #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #crowley #good omens fandom #writing commissions #crowley x aziraphale #good omens #aziracrow #crowley loves aziraphale #aziraphale loves crowley #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #aziracrow kiss

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ghostssweetgirl · 1 year

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crazy over you ~ simon ghost riley x reader slow burn/enemies to lovers

description: y/n gets transferred to task force 141 and quickly becomes friends with soap and gaz, but her and ghost "hate" each other for the first part. warnings: mentions of violence and death (duh), alcohol intake, smoking (at some point), nsfw (at some point), subtle flirting with soap. i'm new to writing? so don't expect this to be the greatest. this is not in line with the game campaigns or missions. the only characters i included are y/n, soap, gaz, price, & ghost. i have no knowledge of the military this is just creativity disclaimer: i do not own modern warfare or any of its characters.

chapters: next [prove yourself] last

0600 came early, but it allowed you enough time to take a morning shower, eat a proper breakfast, and have some downtime to read a book. You felt confident and eager to start the day until you remembered who you were sparring with, ugh. Speak of the devil. Here he comes, striding in, reaching into a tall cabinet with ease to grab a tea bag and mug. You keep your head down in your book and take a few sips of your morning coffee.

"Morning," he said with a raspy voice. You look up and smile at him, cheering your cup of brew to his tea. Wow, a "good morning".

"Morning, sir," you replied.

You almost had to do a double take when you realized he had lifted his mask to take a sip of his tea, but out of respect for him, you didn't. You didn't want to admit it, but just seeing his stubble, his pink lips with a scar across his bottom lip, you thought he was quite handsome without seeing his whole face. Well, you did admit it, but surely, he couldn't read your mind. What a silly thought.

"Come on," he spoke, setting his cup down. You look at the clock which reads 06:51, wow, you did well this morning. You bookmark your place in your book, finish off your coffee and follow behind him, silently obeying his command.

You walk out and groan at the cold morning air that hits your cheeks, turning them to a rosy, pink color. You admit that the sky is beautiful, but you don't like the cold. Ghost seems unfazed, calmly walking to the arena. He even opens the door for you, and you thank him.

3 more long and agitating days of training go by, and you, unfortunately, have to spar with Ghost for 2 of those, but Soap finished his mission early, able to fully focus on you, which made you happy, relieving you of having to deal with the ghost.

Soap said you were getting better, even told you how Ghost recommended he goes harder on you and told him about your weaknesses which he used to his advantage. Of course, you cared that you were getting better, but you were just ready to get the first mission over with, even though you had no idea what it would be or how long it would take.

By the last day, you assessed all of your weaknesses and were able to do better in that area, expertly getting out of every hold and grip Soap challenged you with.

You were ready for your mission, with everyone. Not having been talking to Gaz much, you decide to ask him how his day was going so far. It was 1600 and again, you were feeling very accomplished lately. Been getting up earlier, starting your days off properly, and starting to feel like you somewhat belong.

"I'm alright. How about you, Diamond? Fitting in well?"

"Good as ever, and fitting in as much as I can, I guess. Still feel... weird, in a way," you scrunched your face, searching for the right words.

"Do... you wanna talk about it?" he questioned.

"There's not much to talk about. Guess it's the fact that maybe I'm the only female here, but I don't feel... accepted... fully? I guess."

"Ah. Well, you are indeed the only female, but if it's to any comfort, I accept you here," he comforted you and patted your back in a friendly manner.

You smile at him, thinking that at least he and Soap were nice to you. "Thanks, Gaz. You're awesome! Sorry, we haven't talked much."

"Hey, no worries. My fault, too. I didn't seek out conversation."

Still, feeling accepted even a little bit felt like a victory. Everyone, including Ghost, was eating their dinners, paying attention to the movies. Laughs filled the room. The feeling of "newness" was starting to wear off.

You decided to observe instead of take part in any conversation, trying to learn more about everyone. Price always had a cigar, Ghost was, well, Ghost, Soap was a dipshit, a smart dipshit, but funny, and Gaz was seemingly calm.

"Meet in the conference room by 0630. Everyone should be up and prepared, blah, blah, blah," Price nodded, while everyone laughed at his 'dad-like' pep-talk. "Diamond, glad you're here, show us what you're worth tomorrow, yeah? Goodnight, everyone."

The captain's words replay in your head.

Show us what you're worth.

Don't worry, I will.

You smile, feeling like you've finally won as you drift off to sleep, anticipating your first mission.

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triptuckers · 2 years

Text

a ride - rooster

Request: nope Pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader Summary: you didn't think you'd be this sore after a night of having a few drinks Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, making out Word count: 1k A/N: rewatching top gun as we speak. readers call sign is sunny

you had always loved going out for drinks with the rest of the team. after a long day at base, it felt good to blow off some steam and have fun. last night was no different.

as always, it had been a lot of fun, but you all went home early. you had to be back at base the following day. rooster had offered you a ride home, since he arrived later and didn’t have many drinks. so, you got into his ford, deciding you’d pick up your car later. besides, you still had your motorcycle to get to base.

relationships between team members were strictly off limits, as the navy needed their pilots alert and clearheaded.

but no matter how hard you tried, you and rooster couldn’t seem to stay away from each other. you’d been sneaking around ever since.

it was no surprise when rooster dropped you off, he went in with you. neither of you had gotten much sleep that night.

it would have been suspicious if you arrived together or just minutes apart, so you stayed in bed while rooster got ready.

after pressing quick kisses to your cheeks, nose and lips, making you giggle, rooster leaves your house. you listen to the sound of his car disappearing in the distance before getting up as well.

immediately, you groan as you notice a sore feeling in your legs.

yeah, well, that was bound to happen after what you did last night.

you hope a hot shower would help.

indeed having the hot water run over your body felt good. but as soon as you got out and dried off, the dull ache in your legs returned. this was going to be a very long day.

nevertheless, you left the bathroom in your flight suit, grabbing a quick breakfast from the kitchen. you smiled at the post-it note rooster had left behind, empty except for a simple heart.

you tuck it in one of your pockets and grab your car keys. you head to the garage. but when you reach it, you notice your car isn’t there.

‘fuck.’ you mutter.

you forgot that you had left it at the bar last night, figuring it would be okay to take your motorcycle today. that was before you knew what rooster was going to do to you.

you loved your motorcycle. but you didn’t love it as much as you used to when your legs were aching this bad. alas, you didn’t really have another option.

after going back to the house to get the right keys and your helmet, you take a breath before swinging one of your legs over the motorcycle.

instantly you wince at the movement.

‘fuck this.’ you mutter as you back out of the garage and onto the road.

you’re the last to arrive at base, you see everyone else is doing a few laps. god, you hated whoever came up with the idea that it was good to warm up. you sat in a tiny space. there wasn’t much running involved.

still, you have no choice but to join the rest of the team. but you’re taking it slow.

phoenix takes notice of this, and slows down to run next to you.

‘hey.’ she says. ‘you okay? something wrong?’

‘oh nothing, i’m fine.’ you say. ‘just went for a ride last night and my legs are still a bit sore.’

behind you, you hear someone make a choking sound, muffled by a cough. seconds later, rooster overtakes you and phoenix.

‘where’d you go?’ asks phoenix.

‘my usual ride, though i took a detour so it was longer.’

‘did you at least have fun? it was pretty cold last night.’

‘yeah, i had fun. the view was really great.’

you try to hide your smirk when you see roosters ears and neck turn red. you loved to get him all worked up.

you spend the rest of your time running talking with phoenix, who preferred to match your pace over racing hangman.

when at last it’s over, everyone splits up and goes their own way on the break.

you’re headed to your usual spot, where you have a view of almost the entire base. it’s your favorite view. well, second favorite.

you don’t even manage to get there.

about halfway there, someone grabs a hold of your arm and pulls you in an empty classroom.

‘what the fuck.’ you exclaim, ready to knee whoever it is in the gut. but then you see who it is, and you don’t mind in the slightest.

rooster’s neck is still a bit red as he pulls you further into the room. you smirk at the fact you got him all hot and bothered like that. you loved that you made him feel like that.

‘nice ride?’ he says, pulling you closer to his body.

you look up at him and smile mischievously. ‘well, was any of it a lie?’ you say.

‘i should hope not.’ he says.

you chuckle, which turns into a squeal when rooster suddenly pulls you flush against him. with widened eyes you press your hand to your mouth, afraid someone might have heard the sound.

when the hallway stays quiet, rooster grins and leans down to kiss you. the feel of his lips on yours takes you back to the night before. it’s true you hadn’t lied, it had indeed been a good ride with a great view.

you’re interrupted by a low whistle.

you instantly push away from rooster and look at the door. in the door opening, which had been closed moments before, is hangman.

“nice ride you got there, sunny.” he says.

“hangman i swear to-“ “can’t wait to see what the rest thinks of your ride.”

your eyes widen as hangman leaves the room, already shouting for the others.

after one quick glance at rooster, you both take off after hangman.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Max/Marit

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thesupreme316 · 1 year

Note

Warlord and the reader celebrating their anniversary

i GOTCHUUUUUUU

Wardlow and Fem!Reader Celebrating their Anniversary: (Wardlow x Fem!Reader)

Word count: 787

Genre: Fluff

Supreme Speaks: i know that I always say this but sorry for taking too long. shoutout to @hookerforhook for allowing me to write their requests (plz keep them coming). hope everyone enjoys this one. P.S. Remember you are loved and appreciated

Warnings: none i don't think, barely proofread

Taglist: @hookerforhook @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @triscillal @sheinthatfandom

Wardlow is a sweetheart and you cannot change my mind

A very strong, tall, delicious looking, smells good, funny, charismatic sweetheart indeed

In terms of yall getting together, he would have not stopped chasing you until you agreed to date him

(Then again if you rejected this man you are crazy and we need to talk-)

Throughout your relationship, he has been very hands-on and open about everything with you

I believe he would communicate very well with you

“Baby please don’t hate me but that couch does not go with the furniture”

“Babe, it’s the sims-”

Would think about you for the majority of the day

And would get you little trinkets while he’s on the road

He’s very protective of you and hates to be away from you for long

Always tries to get you to travel with him

Overall, Wardlow is grateful for you putting up with his schedule and the demands in his life and decided to treat you for the upcoming milestone

For the anniversary he would pull out all the stops

Breakfast in bed? With your favorite flowers? And the bottomless mimosas if you wanted? (or water if that’s your style)

OKAY HEAR ME OUT He would allow you to open one gift for every meal you two eat

So he has three big gifts for you in total

(and then he’ll eat you afterward if you know what I mean)

Wants you to wear a matching color scheme with him (his favorite color is black)

Would take you to a spa day cause he got certificates to use

After a nice back massage, he’ll take you out to lunch at your favorite place

DON’T THINK THIS IS ONE-SIDED

You gifted him with a map of where ya’ll first met and a transcript of your first words to each other

He said he’s gonna put it up in y’alls living room

“Is that Leo the Lion?”

He gives you a blooming flower box like this

I don’t think he’s into doing DIY by himself so he asked the girls at work to help him with the gift and putting it together

You nearly teared up as you looked through the memories together

“Oo babe! This is when you got chased by that-”

“I thought I took that one out -_-”

Although this is a nice gift, he saved the best for last

Hours later you got redressed cause he said “It’s a fancier place”

While y’all are matching again, he blindfolds you and takes you to the location

After stumbling in your heels (cause you can’t see or if you don’t wear heels that’s cool too), he took off your blindfold and you saw a beautiful table decorated with roses and pictures of the two of you hanging up by the tree branches in a garden

You awed and squealed as tears entered your eyes yet again

He leads you to the table where your favorite meal and alcoholic (or non-alcoholic) beverage awaits

While eating, you two discussed today and future plans, ultimately deciding today was the best anniversary ever

After you finished eating, you were given a dessert with the words “Marry Me?” on it

You looked up at Wardlow in shock as he got down on one knee with a beautiful ring in his hands

(girl if you weren’t crying earlier, you’re sobbing now as I’m about to get fluffy)

“Y/N, I truly love you. I cannot imagine my life without you, and I hope I never have to go on without you in my life. You have been my rock, the one person who keeps me grounded. Today, really cemented how I feel about you and how even after three years of dating, I still get nervous and butterflies when you just look at me. Babygirl, I am in love you. God, I’m so in love with you. You are the most caring, sincere, beautiful, and intelligent person I’ve ever met. Thank you for showing me how to love you unconditionally, with passion and purity. You will always be the best part of my life. I say all that to ask, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

You quickly nodded as tears streamed down your face. Wardlow got up, put the ring on your finger, and kissed you as the hired photographer took pictures of you.

Hugging you, he kissed your forehead and looked up at the sky. You felt his body shake and looked down to see him shaking his leg, you laughed at him

“Does your knee hurt?”

“Yeah, a little bit.”

“Let’s book another massage, you old man.”

“The old man you’re gonna marry.”

Overall…Wardaddy is an amazing boyfriend who is gonna turn into a wonderful husband.

#aew #all elite wrestling #aew imagines #aew fics #wardlow #wardaddy #aew wardlow #wardlow imagine #wardlow fic #all elite wrestling imagines

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sparkles-and-trash · 1 year

Text

This is going to sound way more sad than it actually is, but when Touya's first birthday after the rehabilitation happened, he had forgotten about it before it even happened

It's not like birthdays were ever something he celebrated, so what did it matter?

Well, it might have mattered just a little, considering that Touya were currently looking into the very expectant and excited eyes of his boyfriend, who had gotten up before him, made him breakfast (chocolate chip pancakes, his secret favorite), and a couple of clearly home wrapped gifts

Touya almost lets it slip then, that he had totally forgotten that this day was supposed to be special to him, but somehow he manages to mask it as a reaction to Keigo's efforts, not the reason for them

He doesn't let anyone in on his little secret trough the whole day, because everyone else seems to be so excited for him, and he still does not know how to handle that, so he just ends up maneuvering his way trough the day with as little awkwardness as possible

It gets hard though, when he realizes that everyone but him has remembered today; Natsuo and Fuyumi is not a huge surprise, but Shouto?

Touya is still confused with how kind his youngest brother is to him, but to be fair, a lot of things about Shouto confuses him, so he just adds it to the list

His mother makes him his favorite dinner, and tells him to bring Keigo, who is happy to join as always, and they actually have quite a good time, the three of them

After that, Tenko, Spinner and the others insist on bringing him to this new arcade they found that serve alcohol, and while Compress half-heartedly complains that it lacks class and makes him feel old, and Magne, Toga, Keigo and Twice are having the time of their life making a spectacle of themselves on the DDR machines, Touya has to admit he's having a good time

When they go to bed that night, Touya thinks he's safe from any more surprises that day, but Keigo always manages to one up him, and this is no different, because when Keigo looks him in the eyes and tell him that it's okay, he used to forget his birthday too, but that there were no more room for that now, Touya is indeed surprised at how insanly well his boyfriend knows him

It's funny, because if this was a year ago, that would have terrified him, the thought of someone knowing him that well, but now?

Now, it's just one more positive surprise from a day he won't forget for a long, long time

bnha masterlist - wip list - ao3 - twitter @/sparklesntrash

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softcorememories · 2 years

Text

𝘞𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘞𝘦 𝘎𝘰. Part. 2

pairing : Tangerine x fem!reader

Warnings : mentions of blood, violence, alcohol, excessive amount of swear words and sexual words. + SMUT.

NB : This is my work. I will not accept plagiarism.

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𝙏𝙬𝙤 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 ...

It was only 9 a.m, the eyes of Lemon were feeling so heavy with the light sleep he had that he almost jumped of surprise by seeing Tangerine frantically tapping out of nervousness on the table before him.

- Jesus fucking Christ what are you... ? Nevermind. I will do my breakfast. said the other twin while looking at his brother weirdly and grabbing a cereal pack then pouring some milk in a bowl before putting the cereals in.

The man didn’t stop thinking about his female opponent who is also or was almost his ex because technically in Lima they weren’t a thing. Not totally. They never admitted their feelings to each others but the two days that past since their latter encounter made Tangerine questions his life more than twice, fuming out of frustration while looking at the void.

This woman was so pervasive, so intoxicating, now that he had seen her face precisely, he realised how much the image of her figure in this dress with its bare back remains plasticising and well imprinted in his thoughts. Intrusive thoughts but pleasant thoughts. It was indeed the first time that a woman remained implanted with such a force, an almost magnetic force, in his rotten brain but frustration took over while because of it. All of his work so far was going to be ruined because now the suitcase will surely be very far away from them and perhaps in another state or another country. Impulsiveness is the adjective that suited him best but in this situation, the man with brown hair was on his knees in front of so much ingenuity. His brother approached him, eating like a little boy his cereals thinking it is the coolest thing ever in the morning.

- Ya know that she will not come to you until you make some effort, she is a Gordon or even a Diesel. You can’t compete, I knew since the start that you had a thing for her in Lima !

- NO I DID NOT ! Tangerine yelled as if he was very offended by the remark his twin just made about him.

- You so were brother. Literally. His amused cough was the subject of their next long bickering until a ring out from nowhere made its entrance. They both shared a taken aback look stopping arguing as if they were at kinder garden, Tangerine took his phone arching an eyebrow as he put the phone on speaker.

- Who the fuck is it ?

- Missed me ? Tangerine. A feminine voice echoed through the phone, the owner was actually smiling knowing very well she was managing the situation perfectly well as her partner is facing her with a grin on the face, making her continue the call as they were standing in front of the hotel the twins are in.

Frankly, he had no idea what to do knowing very well what was going to happen but his eyes became a little more upset wondering why the object of his thoughts only calls today instead of the day before or even after this tumultuous evening. His teeth grind a little more as he had to realise that he was going to have to submit to the desires of his interlocutor who looked determined to end him. His big, rusty hand held the phone so hard that his veins almost come out from under his skin.

- What do you want ?

Her almost petty laughter sent the man to his feet as she looked up to pay attention to the grandeur of the building before her. Sometimes she wondered why her job could be so much fun but boring as possible, initially her disagreement was deep before having to call Tangerine, having no trouble finding his phone number. A few phone calls and that’s it.

- aw... don’t be so harsh on me I am SO fragile... I’m joking get yours and Lemon’s ass out of here and go in the Mercedes. Xoxo.

The lady really liked this dangerous game by taking a small, falsely innocent voice at the beginning of her sentence coming back to a lot of seriousness by stating exactly what was going to happen in the aftermath of today’s events. Her long lashes testify to a great elegance, laughing while hanging up on the nose of her opponent leaving him with this little information she had just given him. Her famous pair of black high heels made their way around the car. While holding the end of her long coat, she entered the car with a long sigh as her partner raised his hand to make her a high five.

- You’re fucking awesome, Fox, I’m awesome, we’re awesome. High Five ?

Fox raised an eyebrow while lowering her glasses in order to look at him from head to the. She was not playing childish knowing that in barely five minutes the betrayal will arrive in this car behind them.

- OK, no high-five. I get it.

Her mouth was a little open while her manicured hand lifted her pair of sunglasses on her nose in an almost arrogant way while her desperate smile said that the action of her teammate made her really laugh.

- 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

Fox lifted her index finger as if she was waiting for something she had planned and as she had predicted an incessant noise banging against the tinted window of the car continually, giving a proud look to the blond haired man beside her.

- Told you.

The mistress of the mission smiled kindly waiting for the moment that seemed to be long enough, she heard inaudible words outside the car like a kind of argument, Fox concluded that it must still be the two brothers who behave like kids. Since Tangerine’s betrayal, her mind had deliberately chosen to erase certain memories with these two brainless assassins but what she could perfectly remember was their childishness over really insignificant details.

- Whatcha’ doing Tang’ ? Questioned Lemon as they both held their respective car door cuffs.

- I’m not going in first. You go. The assassin was standing holding the door cuff as if he was paralysed but he simply didn’t want to enter first to not give the impression that he was already being submissive to every decisions Fox will make from now on.

- Seriously ? We are playing this ? I’m not going in first too ! Just go. She called YOU not me tho. The voice of the second brother rises a little describing his kind of panic in the face of the situation and how they were both afraid of the female assassin in the car that was surely accompanied by her partner. He pointed a finger at the pornstache owner, mouthing a ‘ Come on ‘ which Tangerine just stared at for a while before giving a kick onto the wheel of the perfect black Mercedes, frustrated that he had to go first.

- Finally my boys are here. Her eyes were already looking at both of them, reflecting in the rear mirror of the car.

- I’m not your little boy. The tone in the voice of Tangerine was clearly some kind of hatred and frustration but why would he hate her when he is clearly the one who betrayed her over some stupid business ?

- Whatever, Lemon I have something for you. Her delicate finger searched something in her purse. A second after a sheet of stickers of Thomas the Tank Engine appears in her left hand coming to extend it to him without really looking at him.

- Is it a limited version? I’m super happy to see you, cross my heart and hope to die. Lemon put his hand on his heart while going back on his seat calmly.

- Oh and sorry for Tangerine he can be super annoying and apparently mute. Stated the fruit while arching an eyebrow at his brother who were looking at the window apparently pissed off.

- Don’t worry. I will make him talk myself. Her voice was shortly cut by her partner who turned on his seat with a huge cocky smile on his face.

- I hope you missed me too. Ladybug finally talked after Fox, he had a past with the twins who were obliviously shocked when they saw his not so old face. The blond haired man was wearing his signature grin on his face knowing very well that especially Tangerine will throw a tantrum. His fingers waved at them while the two brothers were starting to shout not agreeing on working with the blond man that almost killed them in a bullet train.

- You’ve got to be kidding me !!! Tangerine almost ‘ screamed-yelled ‘.

His upper body had risen up really fast seeing the familiar face, he wanted to put a fist in this pretty brash grin that Ladybug wore, his desire to make a mashed insect was not at all foreign to his mind. His lips are ajar so the words get stuck in his throat and he couldn’t believe that now Fox was working for him or finally with him. His long fingers run over his moustache, a nervous sign he has adopted since he wore it on his face. Finally, the tall, dark-haired man leaned heavily against his seat, closing his mouth, but whispered an insult before Ladybug started to drive to a place where the twins have no information.

Fox didn’t really talk to them and chat with his blond-haired partner happily, it was obvious that they had a certain chemistry but nothing will happen between them, that’s for sure. The two assassins do not want to get together or even try something because their bond is purely complicit and platonic.

To be honest Ladybug is not the kind of guy the young woman likes, she likes men who have a very male side almost macho without it being so. A dominant side but who knows how to treat her like a princess, it was ideal for her. Physically, Tangerine is the type of man she prefers and it’s hard to admit it but seeing him today did something to her because she could not deny her attraction towards him. His medium-long brown hair thrown back and moustache give him that little extra that made her thighs rub against each other. Ladybug’s hand was a little too often on Fox’s lap and thigh during the journey, which had the ability to arouse Tangerine’s curiosity and growing jealousy. The car ride was silent until they got in front of a building or more of a house, all of them got in with Ladybug and Fox explaining which rooms are what then doing their own business until another meeting will be announced.

She could feel Tangerine’s eyes on her figure as she made her way to the small stairs, with a helping hand, her heels free her thin feet now ready to climb up the steps. The sensation of her adversary's eyes is different, a sensation of having gone over to the X-ray, she felt naked under this so persistent look. To test him, provoke him, Fox bent down showing her entire rear to him before taking her pair of heels softly. Her room was big enough for her but her eyes fell on the silk gray sheets, it is perfect.

The assassin looked over both sides as if he verified if there was anyone in the living room to see what he saw just now. His breath was stuck like a cork in his throat, the curves so well drawn of the sublime young creature call him in distress. He had the impression that he had to do something but the man wants explanations, the provocation towards him is quite unpleasant for him. This pretext seemed right to arrive in front of her room, a quick wrist move and his body was in the room.

The atmosphere quickly changed, the two protagonists feel the presence of each other perfectly but yet no word comes out before his hoarse voice due to the cigarette takes the lead while he locks the door of the room behind him. Why? His instinct speaks for him.

- Do you fuck ? You and the bug ?

A sexual tension reigns masterfully in the air as the sole of his shoes comes dangerously close to his interlocutor.

- I can see he can’t hold his hand in his pocket. I wouldn’t be surprised if he screw you from time to time.

That snarky comment made the woman laugh in disbelief with her left eyebrow lifted and turn on her heels to face the dangerous man, she couldn’t believe that HE was asking her that tons of questions. Tangerine didn’t have the single right to ask her that intimate question even if it’s false.

- So what if it would be true ? Why do I have to answer you ? That he fucks me so well that my walls are stretched open every time for him after every fucking single mission ? His hands all over me , cupping my breast ?

The impression of seeing everything red was more than euphemism, the words she use to describe it were too much to bear and to imagine. His mind was boiling hot from just imagining these sexual scenes between him and her, it was obviously not true if his common sense were tickling but right now he just wanted to make her shut up in billion ways possible. It was his fault, the questions are too much.

Fox would go on and on to support her point that it was none of his business, but she was quickly cut and edged by a pair of warm lips and lacking attention on her own. All she had time to hear from her partner was his inaudible displeasure. Tangerine could no longer control himself while his beastly side took over his sanity while with his strength, in a fraction of a second, pushed her against the wall only a meter further. The assassin’s baby blue eyes crossed the lust that shines in those of his partner, just the fact that she was ready to get fucked by him made him feel a little harder every second.

- What the hell are you doing to me ? Fuck, Love...

One of his hands just wondered on her body in a incredibly slow motion discovering every inch of it, his pupils grow darker and darker until it looks like a thunderstorm is creating in his gaze, his hungry gaze. He wanted it for so long but he never had the chance to since after his betrayal, Fox disappeared from the radars. Breathing was becoming only harder when he noticed the delicate manicured index of the woman sliding from the top of his belt to his abs then stopping a few seconds until she met his torso skin, grabbing fiercely his golden necklace making their proximity only closer. Some electricity filled the air as the tension between them broke free, Fox locked her eyes with his before ghosting her lips against his making Tangerine going bonkers.

- Shut up.

His hot breath against her face had the incredible gift to send her shivers down her spine. Tangerine smirked as his fingers were climbing up her right leg still looking into her eyes, their chemistry was now one.

- Yes ma’am.

All of his senses were lost in a world he didn’t know the existence, the luxury of touching her skin was blissful as she grind her leg up his right hip to give him more access to her femininity. Breaking their shared look, he dived his face in the crook of her neck making her whimper from desire, letting the young woman be needier as his sloppy kisses against her skin were working more and more on her mind. His moustache created goosebumps on her pale skin making him smirked against it, his touch was devilish as he pushed his fingers into the skin of her thigh putting his left hand onto the wall to have support while giving her some pleasure.

His kisses were trailing down her collarbone without any hesitation, leaving his big red marks everywhere as long as he can prove to that old man Fox had always been his girl.

Her breath hitch watching Tangerine going down on his knees putting her leg on his shoulder and lifting her dress with his two experimented hands, she played with some locks of his dark slutty hair. Sanity gone, the fellow assassin was facing the wetness soaking the panties of his partner, the bridge of his nose almost touching it.

- So wet for me darling already.

Fox wanted him more than anything but he talk too much for her liking so she pulled his hair nearer her private area making him slurred, feeling the tightness in his pant and the urge to fuck her on the bed next to them.

- Fuck. He growl glancing at her bare cunt, his moustache tickling the sensitive pink button, taking a big swig of her juice from the bottom to the top making her moan his name. God, he adored it. The woman of his dreams screaming, moaning, begging him to do more.

Only the pleading whimpers and moans of Fox echoes in the room along with the obscene noises of Tangerine’s tongue. He was sucking her from top to bottom as if it would be the last time they would share a fleshly moment while holding her thighs in his tempting hands as his partner rubbed against his sinful lips as it became more and more brilliant making the grown man groan against her intimacy.

An urgent need to connect fully to her is spreading in the body of the tall brown, he wanted to possess her until the whole city of New York hears the pleasure she took in getting fucked by a fruit.

Actions were quick when he left her unsatisfied by putting her leg on the ground to just make her jump, putting her legs around his waist. The young woman took the face of what appears to be the man of her life to crush her lips against his playing with the hair at the base of his neck allowing the assassin to penetrate her mouth with the tongue. Both play a game of domination in this kiss as Tangerine threw her on the bed coming to join her quickly by positioning himself above her.

- I want you Tangerine, I always wanted you to fill me.

Fox’s voice was weak, her legs slightly shaking of anticipation, to be honest she heard some rumours about his experience in bed but she never saw THE infamous shaft.

- And you are going to take it just as the good girl you are , uh ?

Spreading her as a frog, Tangerine unbuckled his belt throwing it somewhere in the room annoyed because it took more seconds than he thought. When his gaze came back on the magnificent creature, she was entirely naked, just for him. Revealing her most simple apparel. In no time at all, the slightly older man undone his shirt and then got rid of it by positioning himself between the thighs of his opposite. The beggars' eyes made him feel especially when he sensed that she was looking at him and his Greek god body.

He took himself in his right hand stroking it a little before getting himself in front her entrance, without warning her, he slammed into her moaning when he felt how her soft walls fit around his length. She tilted her head into the pillow as his moves were getting a beast-like pace as if they were porn stars, arching her back.

- Are you my good girl Fox? Say it. I want to hear you say it. You’re mine and only mine, okay? No one can fuck you like I do.

- O-yes! Aaah! Tangerine!

The amplitude of the sounds of the young woman’s moans, cries, and prayers grew in greatness as Tangerine’s large hand held tightly to the sheets, it seemed as if he was going to tear them off as his knuckles became white. On the other hand, he was trying different angle until distortion formed on her face, a good sign of pleasure while his thumb was rubbing hastily her clit.

Their climax were increasing each seconds they were in sync , her breast bouncing according to his hips thrusts throwing all of his manhood into it. Tangerine, in contrary to his code name, has the stamina of a broad horse. His mind was totally ejected from reality as his dick pounded into her as f he was going to put a baby into her body.

In a desperate manner, his head fell into her neck trying to breath normally but it was hard as hell, trying to hold on but he felt the nails of Fox scratching his back making him moan with an hoarse voice into her ear making her shiver.

Both were waiting for this for 3 long years, out of nowhere Fox flipped Tangerine in her position to ride him endlessly making him confused at first but suddenly groan of pleasure feeling the tip of his dick knocking out the infamous sweet spot. Deeper, harder, faster, slower his girl was alternating each pace to make him squirm in his spot. It worked, his grip on her hips was firm as she was also holding his gold necklace giving the man every reason to make her his.

His eyes were facing the bouncing boobs of the young woman, his hunger for lust was inevitable and unstoppable. He wanted to be hers, it was unexpected from him to feel that way because usually he would just make a snarky or cold comment about love relationships. Fox made him sit by pulling him by his necklace meeting her mesmerised eyes they sensed each others feelings just by staring during this moment.

For a second, he was going all soft for her leaning into her touch when she put her hand on his cheek and kissing him. Tangerine missed her.

He didn’t want to admit it yet, but deep down his core, he does.

Long minutes after touching, feeling each other’s skin, penetrating and loving. They came both at the same time, then falling onto the mattress after Tangerine got out of her. His dark curly hair were a total mess, one strand fell on his forehead and drops of sweat slowly making their way to his eardrums.

Fox didn’t know what to think about what just happened, they were both very angry, but this fleshly moment apparently released all this tension as if the words did not need to be said. Her back facing him, she felt two strong arms puling her to his chest feeling his breath on her neck then his pornstache gently ghosting her skin.

- Are you going all soft Tangerine ?

Her wonderful lips formed a smile snuggling against him as he put his chin on her shoulder. Clearly teasing him.

- Not at all, it’s ... it’s called ...

Lost for words because what she said it’s true, the tall brunette just tried to make a joke but didn’t find any so he sighted in defeat making her giggle, god he loved this sound.

- I fucking care for ya, yeah ... Happy ?

The assassin couldn’t hold back his soft grin, it managed to make his heart pound a little faster. Thousand kisses on her shoulder, she decided to face him her breast sticking to his rising chest. Who thought they would be cuddling like actual lovers ?

- Happy.

His strong left arm came surrounding her so little body next to him, the man is clearly overprotective but he didn’t want her to runaway again. His lips crashed on hers, he felt relaxed.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine bullet train #tangerine fic #lemon bullet train #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train #bullet train imagine #bullet train fic #brad pitt #brian tyree henry #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine and lemon #tangerine x fox #smut #bullet train smut

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mariana-oconnor · 9 months

Text

The Golden Pince-Nez pt 2

Oooh map! We have the map. I love maps.

This is a really weird looking house, though. I mean, those two corridors just go from that 1 room directly to either the outside or to the guy's bedroom? That's an unusual layout.

Love that we have a little x to show us exactly where in the room Smith's body was. O Willoughby, Willoughby, Willoughby Smith. We didn't know you and now you're a stiff. O Willoughby, Willoughby, Willoughby, say, From whom did they come, those golden pince-nez?

Apparently a very visually impaired woman whose eyes are remarkably close together and whose nose is rather wide, according to Holmes' assessment anyway.

We saw the cold winter sun rise over the dreary marshes of the Thames and the long, sullen reaches of the river, which I shall ever associate with our pursuit of the Andaman Islander in the earlier days of our career.

Do we know about the Andaman Islander? Am I forgetting something? Is that from one of the novels rather than the short stories, because it's been a long time since I've read those. Also, Watson is clearly feeling uninspired this morning. This is probable because he was up until stupid o'clock last night and then had to be up on time to catch the morning train before breakfast. Poor life choices.

I saw an intent look pass over Holmes's face. “You say that she must have come back this way?” “Yes, sir; there is no other.” “On this strip of grass?” “Certainly, Mr. Holmes.”

Alright... so there's something off about the marks in the grass. The grass is only bent in one direction, perhaps? Idk how tracking in grass works. You know who you need?

"This garden door is usually kept open, I suppose? Then this visitor had nothing to do but to walk in."

I like locked doors. The idea that anyone could just walk into my house at any moment is very upsetting to me. It is the role of the door to prevent that from happening. I could not live like this.

(I literally just tried to undo something and deleted more than half of this post, wtf Tumblr? I will try to reconstruct it from memory)

"Halloa! what is that scratch upon the face of it? Just hold a match, Watson. Why did you not tell me of this, Hopkins?” The mark which he was examining began upon the brass work on the right-hand side of the keyhole, and extended for about four inches, where it had scratched the varnish from the surface. “I noticed it, Mr. Holmes. But you'll always find scratches round a keyhole.”

I was going to defend Hopkins at this point, but then I read that the scratch was 4 inches long and presumable fresh, so nope, sorry, can't help you there. That's kind of a key piece of evidence.

I wonder if the professor is an alcoholic...

Sorry, couldn't resist that one.

"Halloa, Hopkins! this is very important, very important indeed. The Professor's corridor is also lined with cocoanut matting.” “Well, sir, what of that?” “Don't you see any bearing upon the case?"

So many Halloas in this part.

I expect the bearing is that it means the murderer could also have left down this passageway without their footsteps being heard. Which raises suspicion of the Professor.

It was a very large chamber, lined with innumerable volumes, which had overflowed from the shelves and lay in piles in the corners, or were stacked all round at the base of the cases.

Interior decor goals. I mean, I almost live like this already, but still, goals.

The bed was in the centre of the room...

(From This Tumblr Post)

Clearly the Professor is evil. No one else could sleep in a bed like that, unmoored from the world, surrounded by space, adrift from good reason and sanity.

I have seldom seen a more remarkable-looking person. It was a gaunt, aquiline face which was turned towards us, with piercing dark eyes, which lurked in deep hollows under overhung and tufted brows. His hair and beard were white, save that the latter was curiously stained with yellow around his mouth. A cigarette glowed amid the tangle of white hair, and the air of the room was fetid with stale tobacco-smoke. As he held out his hand to Holmes I perceived that it also was stained yellow with nicotine.

'Curiously stained with yellow' > proceeds to immediately explain why it is stained with yellow.

"I can recommend them, for I have them especially prepared by Ionides of Alexandria. He sends me a thousand at a time, and I grieve to say that I have to arrange for a fresh supply every fortnight. Bad, sir, very bad, but an old man has few pleasures."

This guy... this guy imports 1000 cigarettes a fortnight. 1000 a fortnight. That's over 70 a day. That's 3 an hour if he doesn't sleep. 4.5 an hour if he gets 8 hours a night. Sure, the internet tells me it takes about 5 minutes to smoke a cigarette, so he isn't actually chain smoking. He could totally smoke more. Really the take away from this is that he needs to work harder at this and stop his reliance on such unnecessary things as oxygen.

70 a day... yikes.

And he knows it's bad for him, too. What? 40 years before the first study in the US saying the same thing? 60 years before it became big news? The tobacco companies really messed with our understanding of things, huh?

Also, the fact that he can afford to import 1000 cigarettes every two weeks and still has the money to have servants, a nice house, and a secretary. This guy has way more money than any academic I've ever met, that's for sure.

“Alas! what a fatal interruption! Who could have foreseen such a terrible catastrophe? So estimable a young man! I assure you that after a few months' training he was an admirable assistant."

Maybe it's because of how unpleasant his introductory description was. Maybe it's because it was preceded by the implication that the murderer could have got into his room unheard. Or maybe it's just that he asks a rhetorical question here and I can never hear a person in this sort of a situation say 'Who could have forseen such a thing?' without my brain automatically answering 'You, I bet.' But Professor seems sus.

Or maybe it's just his bed.

“I shall indeed be indebted to you if you can throw a light where all is so dark to us. To a poor bookworm and invalid like myself such a blow is paralyzing. I seem to have lost the faculty of thought. But you are a man of action—you are a man of affairs. It is part of the everyday routine of your life. You can preserve your balance in every emergency. We are fortunate indeed in having you at our side.”

Yep, super sus. That's way too much complimenting of Sherlock and way too much insistence upon his own infirmity.

I observed that he was smoking with extraordinary rapidity. It was evident that he shared our host's liking for the fresh Alexandrian cigarettes.

I suspect that this is for a different reason from the one Watson is thinking, but also NO HOLMES, do not be sucked into the 70 imported cigarettes a day pipeline.

“That is my magnum opus—the pile of papers on the side table yonder. It is my analysis of the documents found in the Coptic monasteries of Syria and Egypt, a work which will cut deep at the very foundations of revealed religion. With my enfeebled health I do not know whether I shall ever be able to complete it now that my assistant has been taken from me."

okayokayokay Tentative theory:

The professor's research is based on a lie. Everything he's worked on is based on some incorrect fact about a historical 'she' being somewhere or not being somewhere, and he has (or had) evidence that it was incorrect in his desk. WIlloughby worked it out and was breaking into the desk to get the evidence when the professor snuck up behind him and stabbed him in the neck, then scarpered back up the passage-way as fast as his tar-filled lungs would let him.

“I am a connoisseur,” said he, taking another cigarette from the box—his fourth—and lighting it from the stub of that which he had finished.

OK, now that is chain smoking. I really hope there's a reason for this and it isn't just a weird thing ACD put in for no reason.

"What do you imagine that this poor fellow meant by his last words: ‘The Professor—it was she’?”

That his research was a house of cards, built on nothing but hot air. That he was a fraud and his thesis fabrication. That his entire life's work would be worth more as kindling than as an academic paper.

Maybe I'm basing things on vibes again, a little bit. Sorry.

“Susan is a country girl,” said he, “and you know the incredible stupidity of that class."

Nope. Fuck that shit. Not sorry at all. I hope the Professor is guilty. Patronising, classist, intellectual elitist piece of shit. I'm all-in for Team 'The Professor Did It' and even if he didn't do this crime, he's definitely done some other crime somewhere.

“Possibly an accident; possibly—I only breathe it among ourselves—a suicide. Young men have their hidden troubles—some affair of the heart, perhaps, which we have never known. It is a more probable supposition than murder.”

Yeah, because stabbing yourself in the back of the neck is such an efficient way to do it? No wonder your research is so terrible when this is the amount of thought you put into things. Wow.

An accident? How very Final Destination of you.

“But the eye-glasses?”

Fine. Those I can't explain. Maybe they were what was hidden in the drawer and Willoughby found them? But why would the professor then leave them in plain sight? Maybe if Willoughby was the only person who knew what they meant?

So, secondary theory. The Professor's work is still rubbish and based on lies, but it's not Willoughby who found out, necessarily, it's some unknown woman with terrible eyesight and eyes very close together and a big nose, and she came to confront the professor then went missing. Willoughby knew about her going missing, but the professor claimed she'd never been to see him and the pince-nez are the proof the professor was lying.

And the woman is... dead in a ditch somewhere?

Needs work.

“Ah! I am only a student—a man of dreams. I cannot explain the practical things of life."

Oh shut up with your false modesty nonsense. Ugh. You're terrible.

...he continued to walk up and down for some time, lost in thought and consuming cigarette after cigarette.

Is Holmes trying to get through the Professor's entire supply so he has to order more? Wtf?

“Tell me, Professor Coram,” he said, at last, “what is in that cupboard in the bureau?” “Nothing that would help a thief. Family papers, letters from my poor wife, diplomas of Universities which have done me honour. Here is the key. You can look for yourself.”

Well obviously he's removed anything incriminating from it now. Pah

“It depends upon those cigarettes that I smoked,” said he. “It is possible that I am utterly mistaken. The cigarettes will show me.”

I have no idea how the cigarettes are involved in this, I confess. Is the professor involved in a smuggling ring?

I may have remarked before that Holmes had, when he liked, a peculiarly ingratiating way with women, and that he very readily established terms of confidence with them. In half the time which he had named he had captured the housekeeper's goodwill, and was chatting with her as if he had known her for years.

You mean he's good with people? Good at talking to people? Particularly women?

*side-eyes adaptations*

Is this the passage that they had in mind when they did that whole Enola Holmes lawsuit?

“I suppose the Professor eats hardly anything?” “Well, he is variable. I'll say that for him.” “I'll wager he took no breakfast this morning, and won't face his lunch after all the cigarettes I saw him consume.” “Well, you're out there, sir, as it happens, for he ate a remarkable big breakfast this morning."

Is he keeping a secret woman under his bed? Does she sneak in and have breakfast with him?

So weird.

"Well, it takes all sorts to make a world, and the Professor hasn't let it take his appetite away.”

Because he's a terrible human being.

Alright, at the end of this part, my current theory is that the Professor has some kind of secret meetings with a woman with very close-set eyes and terrible eyesight. Willoughby found out and the Professor lied to him about it, then Willoughby found the woman's glasses in the drawer and the Professor, or the unknown woman, killed him for it. Who she is, why she was meeting the professor, why it was so paramount that no one find out, I don't know.

Also, the Professor's research is terrible and founded on lies, because I just want him to fail at life.

And there are cigarettes... or something.

Yeah... there may be some gaps. I'm working on it.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Golden Pince-Nez #long post

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mxyirin · 1 year

Text

Yandere! Kaeya Alberich

― 𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗣𝗨𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥

▸ kaeya was intrigued to see you

▸the assistant of all the harbingers, [name] [last name]

▸you were undoubtedly a mystery

▸to be able to manage all the crazy eleven harbingers, surely, you were not easy

▸especially when you came to mondstadt with the most ill-tempered harbinger of all

▸scaramouche, also known as the balladeer

▸kaeya had known the short indigo-haired male to be one of the worst ones out of all

▸yet during the meeting, you were able to control him, to get him to listen to you

▸it seemed the rumours were true

▸about the assistant being respected by all the fatui members including the harbingers

▸licking his lips lightly, he wondered to himself

▸how would he be able to manipulate you into doing his bidding?

▸after all, someone this high up in the fatui would indeed be useful for him

▸strutting towards the [hair colour] coloured assistant, a cunning look flashed in his eye

▸"my lord!" he called out to you and you turned around

▸that's when he realised the vision which was pinned on your chest like a brooch

▸"yes?" you glanced at him once and looked up into his eye, "the cavalry captain, kaeya alberich."

▸"there's no need to be so formal, lord [name]"

▸with his smooth tone and charming looks, he would have easily fooled you

▸if only you weren't the assistant

▸you were used to dealing with all kinds of people

▸especially the crazy kind

▸and something told you this guy was crazy

▸"all right then, do you need something from me?"

▸"just your company..." he leaned towards you and fluttered his eyelashes ▸"unfortunately i am busy," without giving the one-eyed man another look you walked away

▸and kaeya was not one to give up

▸so a few days later, when the harbinger had left mondstadt for inazuma

▸you remained in the land of freedom to wind up the remaining mess ad to oversee the fatui activities

▸kaeya convinced you to join him for drinking at angel's share

▸the red-head bartender did give you a look but you were used to everyone looking warily at you

▸leading you to the second floor, he came up with alcohol in his hand

▸kaeya's plan was simple, to get you drunk and let your spill information

▸and so the drinking contest began

▸watching you drink the wine calmly as if it was water, kaeya almost fell down

▸in the end, he was the one who got drunk instead

▸even in his drunk daze, he felt someone carry him in his arms

▸when he woke up, he looked around to see himself in his white shirt and pants

▸"ah, you woke up," he heard someone walk in

▸a warm hand guided a glass of water towards his mouth and he gulped it down

▸after all, if the assistant wanted to do something to him, he would have been already done for

▸"where..." his voice cracked a little, "is this?"

▸"my room in the grand goth hotel," you answered truthfully

▸" yesterday, i brought you here since i did not know where you lived." with an arm around kaeya's waist, you helped him get up

▸the bluenette watched you, no rather, he observed you

▸you cooked with expertise and enjoyed breakfast with him

▸in an attempt to impress you, he had almost tripped down

▸you caught him and helped him get on his feet, his cheeks felt warm in embarrassment when he heard a chuckle

▸"you really are adorable, aren't you"

▸wide-eyed, kaeya could only stare at you as he felt something deep in his heart

▸the need to be yours, the need to belong to you

▸and that's when the gears in his brain started spinning

▸a plan formulated in his mind and he took it very seriously

▸soon, you and him began to spend time together

▸whenever you slipped in the words of a nuisance about some treasure hoarders they were dealt with within the next day

▸the fatui who dared to give you a flower?

▸well, he was found dead due to drowning in a water body near mondstadt city

▸the tanned male manipulated every single thing to get closer to you

▸one drunken night, with the both of you tangled up in the bedsheets of his room

▸he gave you his earring as a token of his love, hearts in his eyes as he had long given up wearing his eyepatch when alone with you

▸wearing down his defences, he lay in your arms with a smile on his face

▸to him, he had successfully manipulated you into being with him

▸after all, there was no way, you and he would end up together when you both belong to two opposing sides

▸you looked down at the male as you brushed past his hair to reveal his no longer hidden eye

▸the closed eyes which hid those stars in his eyes

▸such an interesting individual

▸and there was a cunning smirk on your face

▸"kaeya alberich of khanneriah, haha" a burst of light maniac laughter left your mouth

▸clasping your mouth in an attempt to stop laughing as you held his earring in between your fingers with a wild look on your face

▸"you sure are useful, so be mine to use."

▸ in the end, the true manipulator had always been [name]

#kaeya #kaeya alberich #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere kaeya #x reader #x gender neutral reader #genshin impact

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8iunie · 1 year

Text

‘We’ve always been very divisive’: Måneskin on fighting fascists and breakfast with Chris Martin

First The X Factor, then victory at Eurovision, now a Grammy nod: the Italian glam rockers have taken the road less ordinary on their way to worldwide fame. So long as they can be themselves, they wouldn’t have it any other way (posted on 21.01.2023)

Damiano David is bent double over a large glass table, gleefully snorting an imaginary line of cocaine. His Måneskin bandmates – bassist Victoria De Angelis, guitarist Thomas Raggi and drummer Ethan Torchio – collapse in fits of laughter around their frontman, each one pretending to wipe the nonexistent powder off the table in their rented LA flat.

David is playfully reimagining the Italian rockers’ most infamous moment: hours after winning Eurovision 2021 with their pogoing glam-rock stomp Zitti e Buoni, in front of a global audience of 183 million, footage circulated of David appearing to snort something off a table in the green room. The images quickly went viral, with Emmanuel Macron reportedly calling for the band to be disqualified (France’s entry was in second place). In the end David offered to take a drug test, which cleared him of any wrongdoing; the results are still pinned proudly to his fridge at home.

“I think the view people have of us, and of me, it’s very off-target,” David says now, his usual rock star uniform – Gucci-styled 70s glam idol mixed with Rocky Horror Picture Show vamp – replaced by an oversized beige sweater and a violent cold. (Every band member is struck down with it, rendering a grey-looking Raggi almost mute.) “People think we behave like the Sex Pistols, or Mötley Crüe, but we’re nothing like that,” David continues. “We’ve got more educated on the risks of drugs and how they affect your body. I don’t even drink alcohol any more.”

“At the time we got so upset about it and now we don’t give a fuck,” smiles De Angelis, the band’s most outspoken member, sat looking resplendent in an Italians Do It Better T-shirt.

David, however, is having none of it: “No, I am still upset about it, actually. I think it’s dumb to tarnish the victory at Eurovision. I think we should go back and hand flowers around.”

Måneskin, despite their throwback vintage rock vibe, represent a very modern take on the rock’n’roll mythos. Prior to Eurovision – a DayGlo pop jamboree not renowned for its links to rock excess – the band gained notoriety via Italy’s version of karaoke conveyor belt The X Factor. Their origin story has led to some music purists taking umbrage at the band’s success, with their CV now including two UK Top 10 singles, more than 4bn streams, multiple world tours, a collaboration with Iggy Pop, plus a support slot with the Rolling Stones in Vegas.

“Some of the stupid comments we get are probably because of [having done The X Factor and Eurovision],” shrugs De Angelis. “People are so narrow-minded that they can’t see beyond the idea that if we went on Eurovision we must be shit. They can’t listen to our songs with an open mind and judge them based on what they really think.”

On their highly anticipated third album, Rush!, Måneskin’s first since becoming one of the few new rock acts to break through globally, the band can often be found grappling not only with the speed of their ascent (hence the title), but also a complicated relationship with what rock’n’roll means in 2023. “The whole concept of rock music is not conforming to what society would love you to be,” De Angelis says. “It’s ignoring those made-up rules and being yourself. We don’t think real rock music is about these stereotypes of the sex and drugs and rock’n’roll lifestyle,” she continues. “It’s about expression and creative freedom.”

Still, Rush!, which was mainly co-produced in LA by Swedish hitmaker Max Martin, is stuffed with songs about sex, drugs and, indeed, rock’n’roll, but often with a twist. While lead single Supermodel criticises, rather than valorises, LA’s vapid party scene (“Everything [in LA] is so huge and big and wants to impress you, it’s all showing off,” sniffs De Angelis), the band confess to having enjoyed at least one A-list schmooze with Coldplay’s Chris Martin, who invited them over to his and girlfriend Dakota Johnson’s house for breakfast.

“Dakota cooked us eggs, Chris didn’t cook,” remembers Torchio.

“He was enjoying the moment,” suggests David.

Supermodel also references the band’s apparent drug of choice, cocaine, as does the frenetic Bla Bla Bla, though it largely serves as a warning of sorts, as David sings: “I’m too drunk and I can’t get hard.” “It happens when you drink too much,” the 23-year-old shrugs, ignoring his bandmates’ giggles. “Even when you haven’t had a drink. [That song] is a mixture of honesty and putting on ‘crazy guy’ shoes. [That character] says some things I would never say.”

Perhaps the best example of stereotypical rock’n’roll swagger arrives on the ludicrous Kool Kids, a punky marauder that finds David aping the spit-flecked delivery of Slowthai. “That [was written] three days after Eurovision so our feeling was: ‘Fuck off, we won and everybody has to eat our shit,’” David says. “Before Eurovision we went through a very tough year; everybody was trying to stop us doing this kind of music and doing Eurovision. Nobody believed in us. So we had this feeling of being the underdogs that won.”

That feeling has helped cement Måneskin’s sibling-style bond. It’s been fostered since they formed at high school in Rome in 2016, with David, De Angelis and Raggi coming together after their various other bands didn’t work out (Torchio was later recruited via Facebook). “I remember when I started playing guitar at school, everyone was like: ‘Oh my God, you play electric guitar. Are you a lesbian?’” De Angelis says. “It’s all these stereotypes you know.” Suddenly her eyes dart around the room. “But then actually they were right,” she adds with a huge roar of laughter.

The band, named after the Danish word for moonlight (De Angelis is half-Danish), would quickly garner similar reactions across Rome for their style, which often involved every band member donning makeup. “I remember even when we were busking or playing at school parties everyone always looked at us like freaks,” says De Angelis. “This gave us even more of an attitude of wanting to tell them to shut up. Growing up and being inspired by a lot of the artists from the 70s, the glam, it showed us something we hadn’t seen.”

In 2017, the band appeared on The X Factor, eventually finishing second and landing a chart-topping album in Italy a year later. “When we went on The X Factor we were the first rock band to [appear], but we just played as if it was our own show,” De Angelis continues. “We didn’t have to change.”

While more success quickly followed in Italy, including five Top 10 singles in two years, the band say they felt a shift at home after Eurovision sent them interstellar. “We’ve always been very dividing,” David says. “There are a bunch of people that love us and are very proud of what we’re doing, and then there’s a whole other part made of conservatives and traditional rock’n’roll fans and fascists that hate us with everything they’ve got. Then there’s this conspiracy building up … ”

Everyone at the table looks bemused.

“What?” splutters Torchio.

“Yeah, guys you have to be informed,” snaps David. “It says that we’re getting famous because we’re being paid. That we’re working with the Italian government to share this gender-fluid culture!”

“A lot of people are really proud,” De Angelis says. “But Italy is a very conservative country and they’re intimidated by the fact that someone can wear makeup or high heels or appear half-naked or not be straight. But fuck them.”

This passion for nudity caused problems last August when the band performed at the MTV VMAs, where they won best alternative video for single I Wanna Be Your Slave. While David donned a dog collar, leather chaps and buttock-revealing thong, De Angelis covered one nipple with a silver star before her top slipped down revealing the other one to be unadorned. Cue lots of hastily edited aerial shots to save everyone’s blushes. “We’re too hot for US television,” smiles De Angelis. “It’s so stupid because they want to appear so open-minded and then they get scared about a pair of nipples. There is this difference between men’s and women’s bodies and how you’re perceived and sexualised all the time. Everyone has nipples.”

“It’s very clear the different standards people have because I was literally butt-naked,” adds David.

Perhaps it’s no surprise that a band whose success was forged in controversy are now under the microscope. For David and Raggi, the band’s straight contingent, there have been accusations of queer-baiting, thanks to their penchant for sporting makeup and experimenting with a more fluid style. “There are some cases where it happens, but sometimes [the accusations are] so extreme,” says De Angelis. “It’s stupid for queer people, who should fight these stereotypes, to label it as this and create more hate. The fact [Raggi and David] are straight doesn’t mean they can’t wear makeup. Or heels.”

David agrees: “Everything me and Thomas do is always filtered by two people who are [queer]. Of course we don’t experience the same stuff, but we live every day very closely with people from the community.”

They are keen to also deflect their spotlight on to more immediately concerning issues, with Rush!’s throbbing Gasoline – performed at last September’s Global Citizen festival in New York – aimed at Putin (“How are you sleeping at night? How do you close both your eyes? Living with all of those lives on your hands?” run the lyrics.) The song, they say, is a message of support for their Ukrainian fans. Rather than shy away from politics, the band see it as entwined with who they are. “Everything you do as an individual is political,” says David.

For now, however, they are keen to get some sleep. There is a discussion around how much time they’ve had off since winning Eurovision in 2021, with the general consensus landing on about two weeks in total. With another tour booked for this year, including a sold-out show at London’s O2 Arena, and a Grammy award to fight for (they’re nominated for best new artist), their schedule seems unlikely to let up any time soon.

“Two weeks off in two years!” repeats a dazed David shaking his head. Rock’n’roll stops for no one.

Writer: Michael Cragg for The Guardian

#maneskin #måneskin #interview #article #january 2023 #the guardian

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