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b1rds3ye · 8 months

Note

Cod men with an so that has a kink for their gear/uniform …thats all

Anon you are SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE at this rate my obsession for people in uniform is unhealthy but it IS WHAT IT IS ✌️(only price and gaz for this one tho, my brain just ain’t braining for ghost and soap 😩😩)

In Uniform

Characters: Captain John Price, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions

Word Count: 1.4 (~700 each)

Genre: Fluff, Smut 18+/MDNI, established relationship

Warning: Smut, 18+/MDNI, No overly dom/sub themes I don’t think? riding + worship (Price), thigh riding (Gaz), if I miss anything, let me know

A/N: This is the spiciest I've ever written (it pales in comparison to the filth I read but reading vs writing is a whole different story WRITING THIS WAS SO HARD ARGH-)

Captain John Price

Price is not blind. For the sake of professionalism, he doesn’t comment on it, but he can’t help but feel smug when he notices how your eyes trace his chest rig. How it looks almost too small with how it hugs to his chest, the straps that wrap over his shoulders emphasising his thick arms and broad torso. How the extra gear he has to equip gives his already large chest more volume

He will never sacrifice practicality and comfort over visuals on a mission… but if he knows he should just be wandering around base he may just tighten the straps of his gear a little more than usual just so it hugs his form better when he meets you. Just because he’s in a stable relationship with you and a high ranking soldier doesn’t mean the captain can’t have some fun and a little ego boost!

Still, Price is reluctant to test the extents of your uniform kink. His uniforms are often filthy and he can’t imagine anything more repulsive than some crusty blood of the enemy staining the pure haven that is your shared bed. Even after they’re cleaned, there’s a lingering concern that they’re not clean enough

But if there’s anything that John is weak to, it’s you with your hopeful eyes and sweet smile. He’ll triple clean his uniform and he’s ready to for it to join the confines of your bedroom

Even under you, Price prides himself on his restraint. He hasn’t lost the image of a commanding captain, still fully dressed save for the fly of his cargos pulled down just enough to free his cock that is now buried in you. The rough fabric of his cargos leave a pleasant burn against your bare thighs, but it’s nothing compared to the pleasant burn of John stretching you out. You want to move your hips faster, to have him hit the parts you know he can hit perfectly. But no, this night will be slow, cherishing the delicious sight below you.

You shift slightly and you whine at the impossible fullness from within. Distracting yourself from the intoxicating pain you drag your hands along his chest rig. Prying and slipping your fingers into every crevice and bend of straps and pockets, they twitch as an odd aftershock washes through your body. Under your palms John’s chest lifts with every heavy breath. Pressing them flat against his stomach as it deflates, you exhale with him as your relaxing body adjusts to him filling up your every crevice.

John’s hand creeps up to curl around one of your wrists. The plastic coating of his gloves offers a foreign coolness that has your body jolting and you whine as goosebumps coat your burning body.

“Didn’t know you had such a thing for men in uniform,” he simpered, his other hand down to rest on your hip. He idly massages at the plush skin, fingers digging deep down into the layer of muscle. Tilting into his touch, you try and contort yourself to get his hand a little closer to where you’re most sensitive, just that little bit more but he doesn’t relent, his moustache and beard now slightly curved as he watches you with amusement.

“Only you,” you whisper and his next breath is hefty and rugged, accompanied with a satisfied hum that reverberates through his entire being.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Only me.”

You pull your hands back up to his chest rig, you slip your fingers under the securing straps and take a firm grip. Hands dangerously close to his throat, John’s Adam apple instinctively bobs in anticipation.

“Getting handsy, are we?”

“Just need a bit more,” you mutter absentmindedly. You stare at him with blown out eyes. “Can I?”

“Do as you wish.”

Using your grip on his rig, you pull your hips further, feeling him deeper, harder. His hands immediately find purchase on your hips to steady you as you tremor at the new sensation. He only moves with you, his hips offering the faintest of encouragement as he slightly drives them up into you. Once you manage to set a rhythm above him the captain sounds near unrecognisable as he stifles a groan with every tug against his gear.

“Fuck. Just like that, darling.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is attentive to you, so he is aware of how your eyes scan his body when he walks past. He never thought that his uniform was particularly attractive or attention-grabbing since literally everyone else wears it, but he’s glowing upon noticing that he can entrance you over what’s merely his day-to-day gear

In low stakes situations, this man is teasing you to hell and back. Not directly though, he’ll never explicitly say he knows you have a thing for his uniform, but just before a mission he’ll have you double checking if his chest rig and gear are firmly secured to his body. Of course, they won’t be, and he’ll ask you to tighten the straps, discreetly flexing the respective body parts all the while

Now you can tell when Kyle’s horny. Instead of immediately shedding his gear to wash up and relax with you, he’ll only get rid of weaponry and any contents in his various pockets but the gear and uniform stays on in a (not so) discreet attempt of getting you just as riled up as he is

“Shit, you look so good.”

You let out a halfhearted laugh that morphs into a sigh as you grind your hips against his thigh. Through the flimsy fabric of your underwear, you swear you can feel everything against you. Each individual fibre of his cargo pants, the ridges of the seams. Even through the fabric you can feel the soft swells of his muscular thigh that you’re seated on.

“You should take a look at yourself,” you praise breathlessly.

Even with clothes on, Kyle looked hot as hell. Still in his gear, it made the slivers of his skin that revealed themselves all the more tantalising. His half-unbuttoned shirt revealing skin covered in a sheen of sweat. Sleeves haphazardly shoved up the arm to reveal his lean forearms, veins pulsating with lust as they hold onto your hips like a lifeline.

“Caught you staring earlier,” he mutters. With those godly arms he wraps them around your back, forcing you to lean into him, sweaty forehead against his.

“Thought you were worried about me, but it was really you I should have been worried about.”

His words are lost on you and he only smirks as your hips move forward and back and forward again with reckless abandon. Each drag of your hips getting more exaggerated, more forceful as you strain against Kyle’s arms that selfishly pull you taut to him.

“Let me… move, dammit,” you huff as you struggle to move in his hold.

“What? Is it bad that I want to be close with the love of my life?” he offers an innocent laugh but his eyes are still trained down to where your hips rhythmically meet his thigh with sinful movements.

Grinding your hips, you grunt unexpectedly as a pointed intrusion brushes against your clothed sex, nipping at where it was most sensitive. Christ, Kyle must’ve forgotten to take out a spare magazine in his cargo pockets. The edge of its hard metal giving a delicious contrast against his thick, clothed muscle, you experiment, trying a new angle to brush your most sensitive areas with his leftover weaponry.

It sends a wave of electricity through your body that has you jerking a knee up, one that brushes against Kyle’s hard on and he whines. His embrace only tightens as he tries to silence himself with his face buried in your chest.

“Shit- do that again,” his words are muffled against your skin, echoing through your rib cage.

With the next roll of your hips you pull your knee up once again. The stimulation against his dick has him instinctively flexing his thighs, and you tremble at the extra firmness in between your legs, the sensation evoking a sound of pure sin from you.

Kyle rolls his head to the side to rest on your shoulder, his ragged breaths burning against the crook of your neck.

“Please- fuck - do it again, love.”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #cod smut #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price smut #john price x you #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick smut #kyle garrick x you #/*avery actually writes*/#/*avery shut up*/#anon mail ❤️

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 4 months

Text

Pressing

Jack Daniels x F!Reader, dude ranch AU

A Palomino oneshot, but can be read on its own

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: Jack marks you as his in an unexpected way.

Warnings: PWP, Jack's belt leaves an impression on reader's skin, unintentional branding, unprotected sex, long-distance relationship, desperate and feral cowboy, no physical descriptions of Reader, very lightly edited, written as part of the Palomino universe, set after the end of the series, but can be read as a oneshot on its own

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: This little story came from an ask sent in by 🐴 anon in December 2022, which I have long lost, about a song that mentions a guy’s belt buckle leaving marks on his girlfriend's inner thigh while fucking. Naturally, they thought of Jack’s belt. 🐴 anon, if you’re still here, thank you for the inspo and for your patience ❤️

Also thank you to @lola-lola-lola for getting me horn knee about our cowboy again 😘 Writing Palomino smut first thing in the year was not on my 2024 bingo card, and I’m not mad about it!

Cutest dividers by @firefly-graphics.

It’s been two and a half months. Week after wretched week of phone calls on stolen time. Day after day of aching to reach through the phone screen and the distance between you to touch him.

It’s hard being hundreds and hundreds of miles apart. It’s even harder on weeks when he’s in the mountains with no reception. Harder to find time to call when you have to work late and he has to get up at dawn.

But you endure it all - for days like this.

It’s a rare weekend off in the high season, with Teak pulling back-to-back pack trips to cover for him, joking that he can’t take all his sighing and pining for his Darlin’ anymore.

Jack takes the last flight out on Friday night, arriving first thing on Saturday morning, before the city - or you - wake up. You’re half-buried under the duvet when the jingle of the key in the door jolts you from shallow slumber.

On unsteady feet, you wobble out into the hallway, crashing into the walls as you go, balance off-kilter from sleep.

But it’s ok - he catches you, all white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. Incognito, if you will, in casual sneakers, but the cowboy hat is on as always. You knock it off post-haste, burying your face in the side of his neck in a desperate need for contact, his warmth seeping into your skin and wrapping you up in the deepest of comforts.

His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, and your fingers twist into his tousled curls when you pull back, taking in the stubble on his sharp jawline, and his tired eyes. But before you can say anything, he leans in and slants his lips over yours.

The taste of airplane coffee is sharp and bitter on his tongue as he kisses you deep and messy. You startle when he suddenly slams the door shut behind him, not realising it was still open, and his beat-up weekend bag is tossed carelessly behind him somewhere in the doorway.

The legs of the kitchen table scrape jarringly against the floor as he crowds you onto it, big hands cupping your ass and pulling you against his straining erection through his jeans.

‘Fuck, it’s been too long, darlin’.’ His voice is gravelly from an apparently sleepless overnight flight, and hearing his voice finally on the shell of your ear has you whimpering needily.

‘Can’t wait any more,’ he growls, desperation thick in his voice.

With a flick of his wrists, he shucks off your ratty sleep shirt, eyes hooded as he gazes down at your tits, like he can’t believe he’s actually touching you. Cupping them, soft and heavy, with reverent, rope-worn palms, he sucks one nipple after the other between his lips, making you squirm against him and leak wet and sticky between your thighs.

Strong hands hold you in place easily as you buck, the scrape of his moustache almost painful on your over-sensitive skin, nerve endings on fire after being deprived for long weeks.

Too impatient to wait, you tug your pyjamas shorts down your hips and kick them off clumsily, panties tangled in your damp folds as you writhe under him.

You feel the breath catch in his broad chest at the peek of your pussy, a rapidly growing damp spot darkening your cotton underwear. Hooking his thumb under the fabric, he tugs it unceremoniously to the side, baring you to him.

‘Look at all this,’ he marvels, tracing the fleshy pad of his thumb through your folds, making you arch clean off the table. ‘So wet for me and you’ve barely woken up.’

‘Been thinking about you the while night,’ you admit, hips twitching as you chase his touch. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘Did you touch yourself, darlin’?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘No. Wanted your fingers. Your cock.’

His nostrils flare at your answer, unabashedly possessive in the way he looms over you.

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs into your throat, nosing the side of your neck while thick fingers thrum against your clit. ‘I was so hard for you the whole fuckin’ flight.’

As if to prove it to you - not that you need it - he rolls his hips into your inner thigh, the hard bulge undeniable.

You mewl, hooking your ankles around his waist. ‘Fuck me now, Jack - please.’

There’s a wordless fumble for the solid sterling flask bottle of his belt buckle, his usual level-headed composure nowhere to be found as he pushes down his jeans with shaking hands, just enough to pull his cock out of its denim confines -

And then he thrusts home inside you.

After months of only your fingers, it’s a stretch. But what a delicious stretch it is.

You feel him throb deep inside you, feel the thunder of a pained groan in his chest, pressed up against yours. Your cunt is all slick and give to his determined strokes as he begins to move.

There’s no finesse, hardly any awareness, when he fucks frantically into you. His solid weight pins you to the table, and it rattles precariously under your back.

Your legs are splayed obscenely wide and bent at the knees while Jack pounds into your wet heat, eyes wild and mouth hanging open, watching your tits bounce as you take him, your nails digging into the cotton of his white t-shirt. He never did take off your panties, and the fabric rubs your clit just so with every one of his thrusts, rapidly sending you to the edge.

In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the coarse scrape of his jeans against your inner thighs, and something digs hard into the tender skin, the repeated motion dulling the sensation to an almost numb pressure.

When you cum, you’re crying out before your head catches up, your body convulsing with blind bliss as your pussy clenches around him in a hot rush. The blood pounding in your ears is drowned out by your chants of his name, and then his hips start to stutter and his whole body tenses, frantic eyes on yours as he teeters on the edge.

‘Where, darlin’?’

‘Inside me.’

The words have barely left you and he’s coming, broken pants against your lips as he comes and comes and comes - spilling inside you, filling you to the brim until he’s empty, turned inside out.

Slumped, boneless on top of you, humid pants pressed into your shoulder, his fingers tangle with yours, squeezing as if to let you know that he’s here.

You almost doze off, the gradually slowing rise and fall of the cowboy’s broad chest a comforting anchor, when he rouses you with gentle lips along your jaw. You giggle, feeling him softening and sliding out of you, making a mess of your kitchen table.

‘Mornin’ darlin’,’ he says somewhat belatedly, warm eyes crinkling as he smiles at you.

‘Morning,’ you grin back, and when he shifts, you wince at the ache in your joints from being pinned to one spot for this very vigorous wake up call. His hands smooth over your legs in apology, and you jump when his fingertips brush over somewhere at the juncture of your upper thigh that is surprisingly sore.

‘What’s that?’ you ask, puzzled.

Jack doesn’t answer, curiously quiet. You look down to where he’s bracketed between your legs, watching him trace his index finger over the unmistakable imprint of his distinct belt buckle on the inside of your thigh, where it’s been digging into your skin the whole time.

He glances at you. ‘I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

‘No, you didn’t,’ you give him a knowing grin. ‘And are you really sorry, cowboy?’

He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Gently pinching your swollen folds together, he groans when a milky bead of his cum dribbles out of you, running down the inside of your leg and smearing onto the flask-shaped impression.

‘Ain’t sorry about somethin’ that looks this good on you, darlin’.’

‘Could’ve asked me before you branded me, you know,’ you half-joke, running your own finger along the deep lines carved into your skin, for now.

‘Beggin’ your pardon, I tend to forget my manners when I’m balls deep in a pussy as sweet as yours,’ he retorts, one eyebrow arching when he feels you shiver at his words.

You huff in jest, ‘Doesn’t sound like much of an apology if you asked me.’

‘Whatcha want, darlin’? Me on my hands and knees for you?’

Heat flashes under your skin, from your cheeks down to your toes, and Jack’s eyes darken as his tongue wets his bottom lip. ‘Alright. I hear you loud and clear, ma’am.’

Slowly, he sinks onto his knees in front of you, his joints creaking endearingly as he goes, and you can’t help but tease, ‘Easy there, cowboy.’

The wicked tip of his tongue peeks out, and you bite your lip in a moan when it cleverly traces the outline of the belt buckle on your skin, ending in a playful nip that pulls a gasp from you.

With an unapologetically smug grin, Jack winks. ‘I’m only just gettin’ started, darlin’.’

Note: Thank you for reading ❤️ I’ve missed these two, and if you’re new to Palomino, I hope you’ll give the series a chance!

#palomino series #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels smut #agent whiskey smut

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steveshairychest · 1 year

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Au where Eddie actually gets trialled and the government abandons him and doesn't even try to do anything when he gets nearly 15 years for a crime he didn't commit. The government is too busy dealing with the 'earthquake' to help Eddie.

Eddie's been in for 3 years when he spies a new guard doing the rounds. He's got short hair styled out of his face, round expensive glasses that will no doubt be broken by tomorrow, and a little moustache that Eddie finds rather cute. Eddie's also grown a beard of his own; it's patchy because of the scarring on his face, but it makes him look tougher than what he is. No one's messed with him yet.

It's not until the guard stops just outside Eddie's open cell door that he realises he knows him. A broken sob nearly rips him in half as he takes a cautious step closer to the guard. "Steve?"

Steve smiles and it's the best thing Eddie has seen in weeks. He wishes he could grab Steve by the waist and crush him into a hug, one similar to the one Steve gave him on his last day of freedom. But instead, Steve takes a large step forward and scowls at Eddie in a way that actually scares him. "Back off, inmate." He snarls and puts a hand to Eddie's chest to push him back into his cell.

When he pulls back, there's a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he walks away to continue doing his rounds. Eddie rubs at the spot where Steve had touched and - oh. He checks the hallway, left and right, before backing all the way into his cell to pull the little slip of paper out of his front shirt pocket.

'One week from now, meet me in the yard during breakfast. We'll be having eggos by the fence ;)'

Eddie furrows his brows and flips the page over, but there is nothing else written in Steve's messy writing. Eggos? By the fence? What the fuck does that mean?

It's not until he's curled up in his bunk about to fall asleep that he remembers something Dustin had said to him about a girl. He shoots up in his bunk.

A girl with powers and a love for eggos.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #steveddie #stranger things s4

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fangirltothefullest · 4 months

Note

Okay but now what if how you designed Remus but in as many words as you want, because I'm loving these design breakdowns

HELL YEAH!

Remus to me is full of chaos but he is also the antithesis of Roman with similar qualities but a total lack of self consciousness or bashfulness. He is freedom and he gives no shits.

Inspiration 1: Mad Madam Mim

I start with a disney character full of chaos and I am inspired by mad Madam Mim because she is wild and chaotic and i absolutely love how fun she is as a villain and the most important thing for me is that Remus is fun. He's bonkers and has terrible ideas but he's also harmless in terms of reality. He's like an annoying little brother that wants to show you the Weird Gunk he found in the trash.

Inspiration 2: Snidley Whiplash (or Dick Dastardly)

Remus to me is a guy who knows a lot of things and he's actually really clever but he wants to BE a villain like Snidley Whiplash or Dick Dastardly, including the moustache. He wants to tie people to train tracks because it's fun. His personality is "I found the dynamite and the roller skates! :D"

Inspiration 3: Wile E Coyote and looney tunes as a concept

If Remus is anything it's a creature that can be stabbed in the eye and come back fine. It's a person who can make acme-like contraptions that do not work and that's ok. He is, if nothing else, Wile E Coyote and he is having the time of his life. He should therefore have hair that is a littler wild and crazy and untamable like Wile E's tail.

Inspiration 3: Royal villains

We will look at Galavant and also OUaT again!

There's nothing quite as detailed in costume as evil royal villains. They always seem to be the most extravagant or at least have all the buckles and things and Remus has an outfit just the same. Like Roman I want his royalty to show with his clothes but unlike Roman I want Remus to look way less put together. More a culmination of his clothes he chooses to wear but only because he HAS to wear something so he's going to show skin.

Particularly though the one I associate with Remus is Captain Hook from Once Upon a Time.

Inspiration 4: Captain Hook / Pirate aesthetics

Roguish, half-opened shirt, details, dressed fancy, swashbuckling. Remus would make a great pirate because he has the swagger and charm of a drunken man sailing a boat with a pet giant octopus he calls Lil Pussy.

Speaking of octopus...

Inspiration 5: Kraken and hentai

He has an octopus on his belt and he deserves tentacles for a pirate feel but also for fuckin. Cause he's a raunchy bastard. Anything taboo is something he wants to think about.

Inspiration 6: Punk aesthetic

What easier way top buck against the norms than to embrace punk vibes? Jewelry, upside-down crosses, I don't like going overboard with it but I like giving him some. Fingerless gloves, chokers with spikes, those kinds of things work well for his "I am everything your religious grandmother hates, embrace it". His outfits that aren't standard could look like he made them himself or found them in the garbage and went "awesome!"

Inspiration 7: Weapon Master

Remus likes to hit things with his mace and while Roman has his sword, I imagine Remus is an expert at weapons or at least likes to use them so even if I am going to dress him up nice I want a weapon nearby somewhere.

Things that are a must:

So many details, Remus will not leave your eyeballs alone. If you think Roman has details nope, Remus wants your eyes to bleed with them.

Remus should have longer hair than Roman, wilder bangs and wilder curls. Shorter hair is fine but a ponytail is even more fun. Like the tie holding it'll break at any moment.

Weapons galore, arm this baby at every opportunity. Likewise, scars are acceptable but it's ok if they disappear at random because chaos loves chaos.

If Remus has his main garb off he should be showing skin to the best of his abilities and his collar should drape down wider than normal because let that man be a slut.

Tentacles should be numerous when shown and they should have a mind of their own doing whatever they want.

If Roman wouldn't wear it, Remus would. If Roman wouldn't think it, Remus would, and if Roman would be disgusted, Remus would love it.

Remus should have annoying little brother vibes.

Any non-standard outfits should look like he cobbled them together with duct tape and chewing gum.

So I came to this:

#tashiarts #sanders sides #inspiration for remus

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scuttle-buttle · 1 month

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Co-Pilots

Nobody asked for this. I have the flu. I needed something nice to focus on and apparently this was it. Blame @lorna-d-m my partner in crime :) also kudos to winniemaywebber and sagesolscitcewrites because i def read all their stuff and was vibing it and the pet names and stuff sooo hard

Rated: 18+

Word Count: approx. 3k

Tags: MMF, fluff and reassurance, mentions of wartime ptsd, body confidence issues, mentions of having children, PiV sex, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, voyeurism, no stated use of contraception

A/N: Croz is referred to as Crosby, Harry, and Bing in this (so as not to confuse). And idk what rank Rosie is by this point so were just going with Major

✈️

The bright lights blinded you the first time you walked through New York City; tonight was no different. Flashes of neon whites, golds, blues, reds, lit up your path as you entered the lobby to the Ritz hotel. Your husband had made arrangements for you to meet him in the city much as he had a near 2 years ago during the height of the war. You wanted to meet him at the airport. Crosby insisted he find you at the hotel. And now, with Hitler defeated, he was on his way home. For good.

His phone call had startled you. Usually, you wrote him weekly, sometimes more if you felt lonesome. Harry’s letters were less frequent, but no less loving. Little Steve kept you more than busy most days, back home safe terrorizing your mother and father while you got some rest and relaxation with your Bing in the big city. The toddler was a shining light in your dark days. He had the same dark curls, the same downturned eyes as his father. A piece of your love that was yours no matter what the war brought - or took.

You’d nearly lost your footing when you heard his voice, gruff and mellow, across the line. Darlin’ it's me, he'd said, I'm coming home but I've got some business to finish in the city, meet me there. I'm bringing Rosie, you remember him yeah? Said he'll take us dancing at the best jazz spots. I love you Mrs. Crosby. See you soon.

Now you wait in the lobby for your love and his friend.

Minutes tick by as you wait. Maybe the plane was late? Maybe they had to meet somewhere after landing to debrief? Maybe there was a problem with the engine? Just as your maybes started to drown out the chatter and bustle around you a voice rang out.

“Well ho-ly mackerel, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes Mrs. Crosby.”

The sight of your husband had you dashing into his waiting arms. Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him senseless over and over and over. Crosby couldn’t contain his laughter at your reaction, nor did he bother hiding it when he wiped his eyes dry.

“I’ve missed you so much Bing.”

His forehead rested on yours. “God how I’ve missed you too, Darlin’.”

Over his shoulder you notice a taller man, stylish moustache and curls neatly gelled into place, attempting to avert his eyes and give your reunion privacy. You were struck by how attractive he was. “Bing?”

“Oh!” Harry takes a step back. “Darlin’ this is Robert Rosenthal - or Rosie as us boys like to call him.”

Rosie gives a toothy smile and holds out his hand for a firm shake; “so nice to meet you, Mrs. Crosby. Croz here has told me all about you.”

Giving your husband a raised eyebrow, you ask “all good things I hope?”

Both men chuckle. “Only the best, ma’am.”

The three of you settled into your rooms before deciding that a celebration was in order. Rosie commandeered the evening, promising only the best jazz New York had to offer. Drinks flowed, the band jived, and couples danced the night away.

Night after night, Rosie took you somewhere new. You’d split your time whirling the dancefloor between both your husband and his pilot friend, never satisfied until your feet ached. Harry claimed all the slow dances, nestled up close to your body. But Rosie? He got the fast-paced, jumping, hip swaying swing that Crosby claimed he couldn’t keep up with. Two left feet, he’d claim. Each morning after you slept in the plush, luxurious Ritz bed until lunchtime while they attended to their military duties.

Friday rolled around. It had been a week of this routine. You should’ve been exhausted, you should’ve wanted to slow down - after all you were no spring chicken anymore. Yet, something about being in the arms of your husband and Rosie as you swayed to Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, and Glen Miller felt so right.

When the barkeep yelled for “last call” you knew it was time to retire for the evening.

“Say, why don’t you come have a nightcap in our room, Rosie? Crosby asked.

The three of you settle into the living room of the suite assigned to you and your husband. Bing plops into an armchair with a satisfied huff. You join Rosenthal on the loveseat, a respectable distance inbetween. A bottle of whisky sits open on the fireplace mantle. Conversation comes and goes as the trio fall from the high of the night. It’s easy. Almost makes the boys forget the horrors they endured in Europe.

Around 1am the conversation begins to lull as you finish regaling the group with a story of the shenanigans you and your girlfriends would get up to during university days. “-You think you boys were bad flying all around in your skivvies, but it was nothing compared to us girls that night!” Laughter filled the room until all had let it trickle to a close; the silence was warm like the fireplace embers. Robert sat enraptured by your story, by your beauty, by the thought of you under that blue dress and all your curves. He knew he shouldn’t have noticed…..he was just a man after all. And with the things he’d seen? Could you really blame him?

“How long’s it been Rosie?” The question broke the man’s gaze from you and directed it towards Crosby. He didn’t know it was so obvious.

Rosie was about to stumble out an answer, an apology for looking at you like that, he doesn’t know, when Croz interrupts again. “When’s the last time you felt the touch of a good woman, Rosie?” Harry waits for an answer. Rosenthal can feel his face heat; he runs his fingers through his hair mussing the curls out of place. This confident Crosby was much bolder than the one he’d met when he first shipped out to the 100th. “Before the war?” There is no judgment in his eyes, no disdain or hesitation towards his comrade as he asks. Rosie shakes his head in affirmation. His glass clinks against the table as he sets it down, whisky unfinished.

Crosby sighs. “Too long.”

“Too damn long…” Rosie agrees in a mumble.

You sit and watch the boys in rapt attention before meeting Bing's chocolatey eyes. Rosenthal is a good man, a great one from what your husband’s letters proved, and he deserves kindness and softness after all he’s been through. They both do. A delicate hand moves to rest on Rosie’s knee where he sits next to you. His brow furrows. The Major flits his gaze between you and your husband.

In all seriousness Crosby says “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He tilts his head forward in permission, a silent go ahead.

The navigator noticed how Rosie looked at you all night, how you returned the glances like a game of chicken. Each admiring but neither willing to do anything about it. How the two of you danced around the club without a care in the world at his insistence. He hadn’t seen Rosie smile like that in ages. He knew you hadn’t laughed like that since before he announced he was heading to the front. You definitely were reveling in the attention of both men tonight. This was never something you had discussed with your husband; somehow you just knew each other well enough even after so long apart to know that it was okay. It was something you both wanted.

Your fingers drifted higher on Rosie’s thigh; not enough to be indecent, but enough to get the message across. His larger palm came to rest atop yours, stopping the movement. “You uh- you’re okay with this?” the Brooklyn native questioned.

Without hesitation you reassure “I am.”

In a measured, almost odd approach Rosenthal shifts towards you. His lips hover over your cheek for a moment before the softest kiss brushes your skin. The whiskers of his mustache tickle. You can’t help the grin that threatens to break. He continues to kiss along your cheek, once, twice, thrice, each getting closer to your waiting lips. Finally, his chapped lips meet yours. This kiss is awkward at first as he gathers his bearing, quickly finding a rhythm as if no time had passed since he last kissed a pretty dame.

Crosby sunk deeper into his chair as he watched. He could feel the tell-tale sign of his slacks becoming tighter as he watched his best girl and his best friend. “She loves it when you kiss her neck,” he instructed with that smirk of his. Rosie dragged his lips to your throat. “Little lower-” again he shifted “-right there.” A moan slipped from your parted lips as your body warred with the directions from your husband and the attentions from your lover.

The room felt stifling. Rosie’s coat, your dress, his shirt, your stockings, his trousers, your brassiere - each fluttered off to the floor one by one. Even Bing had lost his button down.

The Major guided you onto your back along the couch, trailing open mouthed kisses down your sternum, along your breasts. A moment of clarity passed your mind that your body was different now than the last time you had been made love to, whether by your husband or not, since the baby. Your breasts weren't as pert, your stomach was softer than it used to be. Lips pursed, you let out a small sigh.

“What’s wrong darlin’?” Bing asked. The navigator leaned towards you, brushing a strand of fallen hair from your face. “You know I can read you better than any map.” Rosie stopped and rested his chin on your abdomen to look up.

“We can stop,” Rosie offered.

“No, It’s silly…” you tried to brush off.

Both men came to your defense immediately. Looking between the two you finally settle on your husband’s face. “It’s just that… since the last time we saw each other I’m different. My body changed and- I don’t know. I want it to be enough for you. For you both,” you add with a look to Rosie.

Crosby drops from the chair to his knees before you. “My pretty girl.” He kisses you slowly. “We’ve all changed.” From below Rosie adds nothing is the same. “You are still the most beautiful, most incredible, woman I’ve ever seen. Gosh - you’re my wife. Mrs. Crosby! I would fight to the ends of the earth to come home to you.” Softer he adds “I did fight to come home to you… and to bring this flak-happy bastard along too,” he laughed, nudging his elbow at his mate. “Now be a good girl and let us treat you right.” At your nod Rosie resumes his ascent down your waiting body.

With a flourish your panties are gone, your dripping center exposed to his hungry stare. “What does she like, Croz? Because I'm not stopping until she comes begging all over my tongue.” He licks a deep stripe along your slit. “Sweet as sugar, babydoll.” Gone is the man unsure of himself, and in place is a god amongst men who knows exactly what he wants. It’s all you can do to hold on as Rosie devours you at your husband’s suggestions. Fingers dig into the cushions, tangle into his curls as you writhe under him.

Rosie puts in his best effort to undo you; your husband saunters up to your face, his pants long forgotten. Cock stiff and ready, dripping with need, he runs the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip. Your teeth nibble at the pad. “Think you can take me too, darlin’?” A whimpered please is all that comes out.

A cacophony of moans fills the air as your senses are assaulted - Rosie latched to your pussy like a lifeline and your Crosby’s cock deep inside your mouth. “That’s it darlin’, just like that. I bet you missed me, huh? I can tell you did, sweet girl. Fuck I missed you….”

You gave him everything you had as you licked and sucked at his length. You could have sworn it was bigger than you remembered. He could tell by the look in your eyes you were getting closer, hell he was too. Lord knew he didn’t want to finish like some schoolboy in your lovely mouth. Crosby pulled himself out and you gasped for air. Cheeks flushed and sweat dripping down your temple he turned to his partner. “Use your fingers Rose, drives her wild when you crook them up inside her ‘n don't be afraid to get rough - give her a nip.” He punctuated the end of his command with a nip of his own to your throat. Rosie did exactly as instructed, sending you careening further to the edge and hips bucking.

“Oh- please Rosie- oh god don’t stop-” tumbles out as you start to fall. You swear you feel him humming against your clit as his fingers burn pleasure into your skin.

“That’s it darlin’, just let go for him. Being such a good girl for us,” croons your Bing.

When it all gets too much you gently push him from you. He goes gracefully, dropping chaste kisses to your thighs and hips. Despite feeling like a bowl of jello you remember your purpose tonight - to give Rosie a proper homecoming.

Sitting up you demand he rid himself of his trousers.

He grins. “Yes ma’am.”

Just as Rosie goes to cover your body again you place your hand on his broad chest, pushing until he is in a sitting position. You quickly seat yourself over his lap, his length resting against you. Grinding down, he grunts. “Let me take care of you Rosie, it’s okay.” Kissing his temple, the corner of his mouth, his Adam's apple, you repeat “I want to take care of you dear, let me.”

With another roll of your hips he enters you. He feels different than your husband, but no less wonderful. Rosie’s hands land firmly on your hips as you rock above him. He knows he won't last long, you feel too good. “God Croz how do you do it? She’s so- ugh fuck” he grunts, head tossed back as you squeeze his length.

“I know, Rose, I know. Just like heaven.” Your husband rubs your back as you move.

Rosenthal buries his face in the crook of your neck, his whimpers muffled so that only you can hear. There are no words for him to describe this feeling: the feeling of being comforted, the feeling of warmth, the feeling of home inside you, even if just for tonight. He almost feels a tear spring to his eyes. Circling your arms around his shoulders you remind him that you’ve got him, that he’s safe, that you're here. You pick up the pace as you ride him, bringing him closer and closer to his fate. His pelvis bucks up to meet yours with every roll.

“Honey I- I’m getting real close.”

You seal your lips on his; “I’ve got you, Rosie. I want you to come for me dear.”

With a deep groan he lifts you off his cock, his spend covering your stomachs and lap in a sticky mess. You hold him as he comes down from his high.

“That was wonderful, thank you…just, thank you.” You kiss him once more; he knows he doesn’t have to thank you for anything, but he does because he’s Rosie. He carefully cleans you of his come with his discarded undershirt.

Crosby drops his lips to the crown of your head, beginning to pull the pins out of your carefully styled hair. “Come here, Darlin’.” He helps to lift you from his colleagues’ lap. “I wanna make love to my wife.”

In seconds you’re on the floor under Crosby, his cock already buried to the hilt within you. Neither of you move as you both enjoy the feel of each other reunited as husband and wife. Whispered streams of I love you and I missed you and fuck you feel so good tumble from your lips, barely an inch apart. Harry would never need a map to know the curves, the sensitive spots, the constellations of beauty marks on your body - he knew it better in his memory than any map he could chart.

Besides you on the couch Rosie has slumped over to lay down, his arm hanging off towards you. Every breath of your husband’s puffs against your neck, every tickle of hair from across his chest reminds you that he’s here and he’s alive and he’s yours. Emotion overwhelmed you; “Bing, love please, I need you.”

Crosby hitches your thigh up and around his hip; “I’m here Darlin’.” With that he starts to thrust within your walls. His lithe body moves with a power you had nearly forgotten. Each roll of his hips he pounds into you harder, faster, with abandon; his dog tags cool against your breasts where they hung. Harry was a gentle man, but held so much emotion inside. He could let go with you.

Your next orgasm was building, hotter and faster than the first. Nails raking down your husband’s back, you reached out your other to grab hold of Rosie’s outstretched palm. The slap of skin echoed around the room, mixed with the crackle of the fire and the sound of heaving breaths.

An inferno raged within you. Every touch, every movement atop you sent sparks down every nerve ending. You didn’t know where you stopped and your husband began. “Fuck Bing mmmm- Harry please-” The rug beneath you rubbed your back raw but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as long as he kept going.

Crosby had his thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit in an instant. “Tell me you’re close, I need you to come Darlin’.” You couldn’t catch your breath so you nodded the best you could while squeezing the life out of Rosie’s fingers.

Another snap of his hips and you’re gone, obliterated. Everything felt euphoric and white-hot. Crosby follows suit, his release filling you and your name on his tongue. Bruises will surely linger on your thighs.

There you lay, tangled in the afterglow, your loving husband above you stroking his knuckles against your side and your new lover’s hand in yours. No words needed to be spoken. The moment you shared would be seared into your mind forever playing on repeat. God forbid another crisis happened that would ship your boys out and away from you - yet if it did you would hold on to tonight like a talisman. It had been a long four years, and longer so for them. But the war was won, with spoils a plenty.

Finally.

Lips meeting your Bing’s sweat-slicked forehead, your grip on Rosenthal tightens. “Welcome home my boys, welcome home.”

Tags: @sagesolsticewrites @winniemaywebber @sailorscuttle @thirstyvampyr @hellfirequinnie @lorna-d-m

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fanfic #robert rosie rosenthal #harry crosby #harry crosby x reader wife x rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal smut #harry crosby smut #masters of the air smut #anthony boyle #nate mann #anthony boyle smut #nate mann smut #scuttle-buttle

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elexaria · 3 months

Text

it was hard for simon to grieve when johnny died. price turned an eye when they got back to base and the first thing simon did was go and lay in johnny’s cot, curled up into a ball. they were close, they were best friends.

he feels a pang of guilt at johnny’s funeral, the sound of bagpipes overwhelming his already heightened senses. one of the mactavish sisters stops in her tracks and makes her way over to simon, who’s stood smoking by the floral donations. “i’m sorry for yer loss, ghost.” she whispers out to him, teary eyed and sniffly. he blinks down at her, albeit slightly confused. “pretty sure i’m the one supposed to be sayin’ that to you.” he replies with a dry writ, clearing his throat as he nods down at her. she lets out a quiet laugh, albeit a saddened one. it’s a brief interaction on an unfortunate occasion, but it lets simon come to realise something— johnny loved him.

simon’s not one for wakes, but he’s not one to pass up a good buffet. yet, for some reason, he finds himself awkwardly stood in the corner of the room, his weary eyes watching everyone converse. johnny’s mom, eileen, makes her way over to simon— and it’s crazy how much johnny looked like his mam, same smile, same deep blue eyes that simon became rather fond of.

“my john even got his beard from me,” eileen jokes, laughing her head off as she rubs her peach fuzz. it makes simon’s lips twitch, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. the chuckles dissipate, when ms mactavish reaches out to stroke simon’s cheek. simon riley’s not one for showing his face, but he wanted to do this for him. at first, simon has to fight against every muscle that wants to recoil out of her touch, to scuttle away further into the corner he finds himself stood in. but instead, his nostrils flare as he peers down at the little scottish lady that’s affectionately rubbing his cheek, and it’s almost as if johnny’s still there. “he loved ye, simon. i wish we could’ae met ye when our john was still around.”

simon can’t bear to watch as johnny’s room is packed up, he feels sick to the stomach. it makes everything worse, seeing him being physically scrubbed from base, from the only resemblance of a home simon’s ever had. laswell leaves a small box outside of his quarters, giving him a curt nod as she lets him pick it up and bring it into his room. it brings a smile to his face, just for a moment, as he cradles the cardboard box in his arms— a threadbare scottish flag johnny had pinned up on his wall, some of his old action figures he had kept from childhood, a few sketchbooks. and a note.

his stomach knots up at the sight of the letter, shakily placing it besides him as he flips through the sketchbooks first, the pads of his calloused fingers stroking fondly over every graphite smudge and ink blot on the pages. finding himself laughing hysterically over johnny’s drawing of price’s dick tickler moustache, and he nods in agreement that it should, indeed, be neutralized. the little scribbles of football scores, shitty and dirty limericks and even coffee cup rings on the pages just… it makes simon feel like he’s inside johnny’s mind, and it feels homely.

simon’s heart aches when he comes across the sketches of himself in johnny’s sketchbook, eyes welling up as he fights back the onslaught of tears that threaten to patter down onto the precious pages below. they were so beautiful. they made ghost, a husk of a man, look… alive. and he begins to breathe heavier, seeing small love hearts and silly cartoon drawings of johnny and simon doing stupid shit— like the time johnny and simon came up with a wager that if neither of them settled down come their mid-30s, they’d move to the countryside and get a dog or two.

why the fuck did you have to go and die for, johnny?

the sketchbook tour comes to its conclusion, the final sketchbook only half way through before, well, the artist passed. and so, the letter sits, almost as if there’s a spotlight casting down on it — screaming out to be read. it really gets on simon’s nerves how his hands will not stop shaking, but he pulls through and begins to open up the envelope that reads ‘for ghosty and ghosty only’, the underside of the envelope reading ‘i mean it!!’ with an angry face. it makes simon’s stoic expression crack into a grin, rolling his eyes as he continues to open it up.

the letter reads:

“well pal, if you’re reading this, it means i’m dead as fuuuck. oh well, it’s something we have to accept in our line of work, innit?

maybe i’ll get really lucky, you won’t have to read this letter and we can just laugh about it when we’re retired, living our best lives in the countryside with our wee dugs. cos you know you’ll never settle down, monsi, i’m the only bastard out there who can handle you!!!

but … on the odd chance i’m wrong (which is rarely the case cos i’m handsome and smart), it was great knowing you. you’re the bestest friend a mug like me could ask for, and i’m glad we found each other. gay, i know. whatever. i fucking love ya, pal. always and forever. dickface!!!

in another lifetime, maybe we can find each other again. although, don’t know if i can handle you being a brit again in this alternate universe haha. i don’t love you that much!!!

all my love,

yer johnny xx”

an emotional chuckle escapes from simon’s lips, tear stained cheeks flushing a light crimson colour as he sharply inhales, eyes shutting tightly as he holds the note to his chest. and for the first time, in a very long time, simon allows himself to cry. heaving his chest, snotty nosed as he really sobs it all out.

his entire life, he’s been beaten down, abused, witnessed family (both blood and found) being killed. but losing his best friend no, his soulmate, is the very thing that breaks his heart the most.

maybe, in another universe, johnny missed that bullet. and right now, in that universe, johnny and simon allow themselves a moment to breathe, comfortable in each other’s presence.

in another universe.

#elexaria writes #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon riley #soap cod #ghoap #ghoap angst

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leafs-lover · 2 months

Text

Too Far Gone - Part Fifty Six

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut - fingering, cum play, dirty talk, maybe a slight voyeurism kink, interrupted sex, inadvertent orgasm deprivation, light degradation? I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,000

Auston didn’t know when they went to bed. The curtains had been left open and the faint glow from the moon was filtering in, but he had to make good on that promise from the roof. And even then, he wasn’t done because they were both drenched in sweat, and there is something about warm beads of water cascading over his girlfriend’s chest that always ended with Auston on his knees.

Sure, it could be considered reckless to stay up that late given they have a three-year-old who has been known to barge in before the sun broke the horizon looking for breakfast. But what was Auston supposed to do, not celebrate the fact Tia finally admitted she loved him? They had talked about getting a puppy, having more kids, getting married, they planned their future, but hearing those words roll off her tongue cemented to him that it was real. As if those four years were nothing more than a long and hazy nightmare he finally awoke from.

When Auston did wake up around 9:20, he planned on quietly crawling out of bed, finding Taylour (he knew one of his friends was keeping him entertained for the time being) and wrangling his help to make her breakfast in bed. A simple gesture, one he had been deprived of for so long. It was his plan, and it was a great plan, then he saw the faint marks on her shoulders, the marks he left, and everything changed. All reason was long gone, and his primal instinct took over. If he could keep her there all day, he would.

“Aus.”

Her nails scratch along his broad shoulder and her body arches into him. Even though she is pulsing with oversensitivity, she doesn’t know if she’s had enough, if she ever will have enough.

“Babe –“ She gasps, sharply.

“What?” He grins, moustache tickling her ear.

“We gotta to get up.” He can tell she wants there to be weight behind the words, but her body is saying something completely different. “So much to do…”

“How am I supposed to get anything done when you’re naked in our bed?” Auston murmurs thickly against her jaw.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

The sheets are a mess. Pillows are on the floor. The stench of sex is heavy in the room.

“So...” His hands roam all over her body. He cups her breast, which somehow overflows in his big hands. “What’s on your list this morning?”

“Yoga.”

“Pretty sure we already did that.” Satisfaction curls on his lips.

“I want to finish up something I’ve been working on…” She trails off for a moment as he licks up her neck, tongue following the bite marks left the night before. “Have to check in with Becks…” Auston grins, the heat flaring behind her cheeks says that won’t happen anytime soon.

“What about fucking your boyfriend?” Auston’s fingers carve into the swollen flesh of her ass.

“I believe I did that already.” He moves his fingers around to her pussy lips and the inside of her thighs, and they are wet, absolutely drenched in their hot sticky mess. “That’s why we’re still in bed.”

“You should put it back on the list, maybe twice.” Auston’s mouth slowly begins to work its way down, first to her collarbone, then her breasts. As his warm tongue swirls around her sensitive nipple, her slick grazes over his member and a deep guttural groan erupts.

“Is that so?” She breathes out a laugh while tugging harshly on his curls.

“Yeah.” Two fingers once again find their way inside. Her body arks toward him and within a few seconds they begin to move. The disgusting slurp of her cunt fills the room as he thrusts them faster and faster. Her walls greedily grasp and hug his digits, never wanting to let him go. Her elbows give out and her body collapses into the bed, quickly and desperately clawing at the sheets.

Auston smirks and applies more pressure. His left hand grabs at her knee and tosses it over his shoulder, earning him a shriek from the deepest part of her diaphragm. Auston fucks his fingers back inside. Every stroke is precise, his knuckles crooked at the knuckle to create the perfect angle. “Can’t decide if I want to eat the cum out of you before I fill you back up.” Auston licks his bottom lip, his fingers massaging her g-spot. “Or if I should bury myself inside and make ya overflow…what do you think?”

“Fuck me.” Tia whispers to herself.

Auston chuckles, a little breathless. “I’m going to.” He circles his thumb around her clit, fingers rhythmically seeking her high. “You taste so good, can only dream of what we taste like together.”

Tia whimpers at the emptiness as Auston pulls his fingers out. He brings them up to her mouth, and without instruction Tia drops her jaw and wraps her lips around them. They both moan as she swirls her tongue around his digits, working to clean the mess. Quickly, he snaps his wrist and runs the saliva and cum coated fingers along her jaw. With a cocky brow raise, he shoves his tongue into her mouth.

“Better than I imagined.”

His hand moves to her hair, and she bites at her lower lip. He knows she washed her hair yesterday. He also knows she will scold him for this later. He just doesn’t care. He moves the head of his shaft down through her folds, allowing it to rest at the opening for just a second, then he buries himself deep inside her warmth.

He messily kisses her once again, taking the time to embrace the wetness that oozes out around his cock. He pulls his hips back, and right before he is about to drive back inside, her hands are on his shoulder trying to push him away.

“Stop.” Her eyes snap open, wide with fear. His brows contort with confusion, then he hears it. Little feet pattering down the hall, his playful giggle getting louder and louder with every step. They both knew they were pushing their luck going for round two, but like a moth to a flame, Auston couldn’t pull himself away.

“Taylour, come on bud, let’s go.” Fred’s voice calls, louder than normal trying to warn those on the other side.

The doorknob begins to jiggle. Tia’s breathing becomes frantic . The slow creak gets louder and louder, and Taylour’s voice enters the room. “I want to show them my trick.”

The more the door opens the more Tia’s face whitens. Auston scrambles off her and scours the floor for a shirt, pants, some piece of clothing to toss on before Taylour barrels in. But everything is everywhere, all he can find is the sheet which he tosses toward Tia.

“Mommy and Daddy are sleeping.” Fred tells him, pulling the door shut. “Why don’t we practice more, and you can show them when they wake up?”

“Because practice makes perfect,” Taylour agrees with a nod.

“Right.” Fred nods down the hall. “Let’s go.”

Auston waits a few seconds until Taylour’s feet are down the hall, then calls out, “Thanks Fred.”

“Yup,” Fred hollers through the door.

“I’m not sure about this.” Tia runs her finger along the strap, then smooths over her stomach.

Once they heard the footsteps fade down the hall and the stair boards creak, Auston and Tia were out of bed. Tia ran a comb through her hair while glaring at Auston for the ends that had fused together, then swiftly threw it up on the top of her head. Auston grabbed a bathing suit –because every day ends with them in the pool – and one of his t-shirts. The two of them went downstairs and Tia started making them smoothies, and Auston set out to get the avocado ready for their breakfast. After inhaling their food, Auston was outside, showing off his backflips – always a favourite with Taylour - and Tia was upstairs in her sewing room.

Once the workspace was mostly complete, she finished the couple orders that were outstanding, then set out designing a few new pieces to expand her line. She sketched out seven new pieces, three of them made it through the 3D rendering, then she began the process of cutting fabric, pinning it together and trying to bring her visions to life. One was easy, only needed a few minor tweaks but was now ready to go to the testing phase. The other two she has been stuck on. Nothing seemed to work, and Tia was about ready to scrap them both and start over, but before that she decided to reach out to the one person that might be able to help.

Celeste presses her glasses back up her nose and shuffles in her seat, as if trying to get a better view from Toronto.

“Yeah…” She hims through the speaker. “I see what you were talking about…I think the point near your underarm needs to go up a bit.” Tia turns toward the camera and lifts her arm, then points to the area she assumes Celeste is talking about. “Yeah,” she confirms. “It’s a little…” her face crinkles as she thinks over the next word.

“Aggressive?”

Celeste feigns a laugh. “That may not be the word I’d use…but yes.”

“The prototype looked so good.” Tia sighs. She thought the dress was going to be the easiest to bring to life. But when she tried the top on it sat low, dangerously low, to a point if Tia moved too much everything spilled out. Despite Auston’s objections, she added fabric to the bodice to bring the neckline up, only it came up too much. Next, she cut a bit out but then she didn’t like the neckline, it was too squared off and simple, so she tried to curve it but overcompensated as indents are being left in her skin.

“That’s why we test them out. I can’t tell you how many pieces I thought were good until I tried them on.” Celeste tries to reassure her with a faint laugh, but this part never gets easy. “It’s not that far off, dear.”

“Yeah.” Tia’s nose crinkles again, almost at her wits end with this one.

“What about the top you were working on.” Celeste steers the conversation away, hoping it has better results. “You decide on a sleeve?”

A few days ago, Tia sent Celeste a picture of a satin top with a simple square neck and subtle pleats in the bodice. The hem was unfinished and there were many pins, but what caught her attention was the two distinctly different sleeves styles. One was short and puffy, and the other was a simple and slender arm with a bell style sleeve. Tia said she was unsure of which one worked best. Celeste called it a copout, called her out to doubt herself and said she wasn’t going to help. It might have been tough, but Celeste knew she needed to make this decision on her own.

“Yay!” Celeste claps when she sees the long and flowy sleeve. This was always the right choice; she is glad Tia figured it out on her own.

“I love that one. Definitely the right pick”

“It’s playful but classic.” Tia smiles with her mentor’s reassurance.

“Completely elevates that top. Tia, I know I’ve said this before, but you have a bright future ahead of you, some people are years in the industry without the eye you have.”

“Thanks.” Tia softly laughs, a faint blush swarming her cheeks.

Now that the prototype is complete, it’s ready for Tia to make a few more and ship them back to the “testers” back in Toronto and get their feedback. Then there are the edits, photoshoots, uploading details to the website. Just when she thinks the finish line is near, she realizes just how far it is.

The two of them talked for a little while longer. Celeste told her about all the struggles she’d been facing as a store owner while in a global lockdown. Her store was forced closed, curbside pickup and online orders were slow, some days non-existent. It filled Tia with so many emotions but worry and regret were the ones she couldn’t shake. If someone who had been successful in the industry was struggling at the drop of a hat, what did it mean for her? Sales were slow, to be expected for a new line, but how long could they be slow before they stopped all together?

Tia put the finishing details on the shirt but left the dress on the mannequin. Normally putting it off wouldn’t be an option. It’d eat at her, knowing there was so much to do but not knowing how to fix it. But today as she walked down the hall toward the stairs, she had zero hesitation walking away because something else had consumed her mind.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Taylour screeches when the patio doors open. “Mommy, help!” He giggles mid-air as Auston tosses him to the other end of the pool, a large splash erupts around him and a few seconds later his head pokes through the surface.

“I can’t help you.” Tia chuckles as she shuffled around the pool’s edge, her feet getting kissed by the exploding water.

“Why not?” Taylour flings his arm around and starts moving toward Auston.

“Because every time I help, your dad throws me in the water.”

“Not true.” Auston winks at her.

Tia shakes her head.

“Please mommy!” Taylour squeals as Auston grabs him by the waist and once again launches him in the air.

Tia flips her wrist and glances at the time on her watch - the very expensive watch Auston brought back from the California road trip because he “thought of her when he saw it.” “We actually have to go, Taylour.”

“Nooooo!” He emphatically shakes his head.

“Yup.” Auston moves toward the stairs. The water line slowly descends, more and more of his chest coming on display for Tia to gawk at. As he moves toward the steps, he grabs Taylour and tugs him. “You said you wanted In and Out for lunch, we have to go get it.”

“Why can’t I stay with Uncle Freddie, and you bring it here.” Taylour pouts. He stands on one of the pool steps, half in – half out of the water, hoping to convince Auston to let him stay.

“Because we’re your parents not Uncle Freddie. Uncle Freddie doesn’t have to spend his time watching you.”

“I want to stay with Fweddie.”

“Well, you’re not.” Auston bites sharply, letting his frustration poke through. “You’re coming with Mommy and I.”

“I don’t want to go with you and Mommy,” he huffs, angrily smacking his hands against the water.

“Taylour, you are coming. Get out of the pool and get dressed, now.” Auston demands, but Tia catches the inflection in his voice and the smirk curving his lips.

“But why?” He raises his voice, becoming more frustrated with Auston’s unusual stern nature. Tia knew it wasn’t going to be easy getting her son from the pool, it never was.

“Because I said so.” Auston barks. “Keep it up and you won’t get to swim for the rest of the week.”

Taylour releases a loud and dramatic groan, then once again smacks his hands against the water. He stomps past Auston, grumbling under his breath, and goes right to Tia who has a warm fluffy towel waiting for him. Having lost the battle with his father, Taylour sets his sights on Tia, hoping for a different response.

“I don’t want to go, Mommy.” Taylour whined softly while he nestled his head to the crook of her neck. She hears the broken exhale and knows tears are on the way – he doesn’t handle Auston’s frustrations well - she just doesn’t know if they are real or fake.

“I know.” Tia kneels and starts rubbing her hands over his back, drying him off while softly comforting him. She gently tilts his head, and swats at the tears clinging to the corner of his eyes. “You have to come with us, sweetie.”

“Why?” Taylour sniffles, barely choking back the lump in his throat.

“Because we have a surprise for you.” Auston cards his hand through Taylour’s drenched curls and grabs his own towel.

“A surprise?!” He immediately perks up, his eyes widen and dart up to Auston. “What is it?”

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if we told you, silly.” Tia playfully boops his nose.

As if the last thirty seconds never happened, Taylour immediately takes off toward the sliding door and gives it a firm tug to drag it open. He runs inside too excited to close the door behind him, then scurries across the hardwood.

“No running on the stairs!” Auston yells after him, but he is too late, Taylour is at the top of the stairs, slipping on the hardwood as he sprints past the railing that overlooks the living room.

“What did we get ourselves into?” Tia jokingly whines when Taylour lets out an “ooh” as he uses his palms to catch himself from falling.

Auston wraps his painted arm around Tia, over her shoulder. Tia brings her hand up and grabs his, then leans against his hard chest. Little drops of water land on her shoulder and in her hair. In an almost scarily still tone he whispers, “you’re going to miss this level of calm.” The worst part is, he is right.

Like most car rides, Taylour quickly became impatient. It wasn’t long after he finished his cheeseburger and shake before the “where are we going,” “how much longer” and “are we there yet” started. They knew the almost hour drive would be long, and planned for it, but no amount of movies, superhero action figures, colouring books would be enough, when all he wanted was to do was swim.

“Mommy, I’m bored.” He whines and dramatically throws his head back against the car seat. He tosses the tablet, and it lands on the floor, bouncing on impact.

Auston huffs out a dry laugh. Like Taylour, his patience is wearing thin. “Wouldn’t be if you watched the movie.”

“I don’t want to watch the movie anymore.” Taylour promptly informs him. His feet kick against the car seat and he dramatically sighs, again.

“We’re almost there, Tay.” Tia turns in her seat and silently laughs at his outfit choice. He insisted on getting ready himself and his shoes are on the wrong feet, his shirt must have come from the laundry given the ketchup stain on the chest, and his shorts are bright neon yellow. The fashion designer in her cringes but as a mom, she is thrilled that he is dressed, and understands that some battles aren’t worth it.

“How many minutes?”

“Less than five.” She picks up the tablet and pauses the movie, then puts it in her bag.

“That’s too long.” Taylour kicks his legs out in a frustrated fit.

“Of course, it is.” Auston mutters sarcastically, his knuckles whitening around the steering wheel.

Tia snaps her head to Auston, and she gives him a look, one he hasn’t seen often but immediately recognizes. “I promise, you’re going to love your surprise.”

They continue driving down the quiet rural road, slowly maneuvering turns. Whatever playlist Auston selected is quiet, so quiet the only sound is the air conditioning whirring through the vents and the rhythmic beeping of the blinker. Tia presses her head against the window and watches the dust kick out from under the tires.

“We’re here.” Auston announces once the vehicle is parked in front of a large farmhouse.

Taylour perks up and tries to sit up in his seat as much as possible. He takes in the surroundings, a blue house with a simple white fence, not distinguishing or exciting for an almost four-year old.

“What are we doing here?” He asks, not hiding the disgruntled look on his face.

“This is a boring surprise, Daddy.”

“You sure about that?” Taylour freed himself from the car seat, and when Auston opens the door, he is quick to leap out.

“Yeah.” He crinkles his nose and closes the car door behind him. “There is no slide or pool, nothing fun.”

Tia hears small overlapping barks and yips coming from inside the home, her heart flutters. She has been waiting for this day her entire life.

Gravel crunches under her feet as she strolled around the car. She crouches down and puts her hand on her knees, bringing herself to Taylour’s eye level. She adjusts his ball cap over his curls then smiles. “Would it still be a bad surprise if we told you there were puppies inside?”

His brown eyes glow. “I want to see the puppies!” He blurts out.

Auston crouches down and smiles, almost bigger than Taylour. “What if we told you; we’re going to bring one home?”

“MY OWN PUPPY!” Taylour screams while jumping in the air.

“A family puppy.” Auston corrects him.

“I’M GETTING A PUPPY!” He shrieks, unphased by what Auston told him.

Auston knew he would be excited when he found out. He assumed there would be jumping and screaming, thought there was the possibility of joyful tears. What he didn’t count on was Taylour being so excited he’d sprint past them toward the front door without another word.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Taylour pounds on the door as hard as he can. “I’m here for my puppy!” Knock. Knock. Knock.

Auston and Tia had barely made it two steps before the door creaks open, a middle-aged woman stands on the other side.

“Hello.” She smiles to Taylour, then to Auston and Tia.

Taylour bounces on his heels, even though they can’t see his face they know he is beaming from ear to ear. “Hi, my name’s Taylour. I’m here for my puppy.”

“Taylour, you can’t just – “

“It’s fine.” She laughs, Taylour isn’t the first child to react this way. She moves to the side to let him pass then waits for Tia and Auston to make their way up the porch.

“Sorry, he has wanted a puppy since before he could walk.”

The three of them hear Taylour squeal as an overlapping chorus of barks and whines echo down the hall.

“No apologies needed.” They all step inside and see Taylour standing on the outside of the fenced in area. He is leaning as far as he can without losing his balance, scratching the tops of the puppies’ heads, giggling the entire time. “I’m Sandra, and that,” she eyes over to the full-size Bernese Mountain dog who is across from Taylour keeping a watchful eye on her pups, “is Stella the mom.” Shortly after a white poodle rounds the corner and walks right up to Auston, nudging his hand for some pets. “This suck is Teddy.”

“Hiya Teddy.” Auston bends down and is instantly met with a lick to the cheek.

“Which one is mine?” Taylour’s head is on a swivel. This puppy. That puppy. That puppy. He can barely keep up.

“We have to pick it.” Auston tells him.

“You can go in.” Sandra offers, motioning to the pen.

Auston and Tia step over the gate, then Auston hooks his arms under Taylour’s armpits to hoist him over. The three of them fall to the floor, immediately being swarmed by the puppies.

“Mommy!” Taylour giggles as one with a pink ribbon licks his cheek. “Mommy, I want this one.”

“Yeah?” She grins, gently scratching behind the ear.

“Any with a ribbon have a home already,” Sandra tells them. “They’ve all had their first round of shots and will be ready for the next one in about two weeks.”

“Daddy, look!” Taylour nods to his foot, where one is gnawing on his sock, attempting to pull it off.

“This one’s trouble huh?” Auston scoops up the black and white ball of fur, taking Taylour’s sock with him, then cradles it in his arms.

“He’s silly.” Taylour broadcasts, trying to yank the sock out of its mouth.

When the puppy keeps his jaw tightly clenched around Taylour’s sock, he sets the puppy on his lap to the ground and crawls over to Auston. He pets along its side with one hand, his other tugging on the sock, laughing the entire time. Finally, the puppy releases the sock only to start chewing at Auston’s wrist.

“I want this one.” Taylour gives it a kiss.

“Really? What about this one?” Tia eyes to the one curled in her lap, eyes getting heavy.

Taylour takes a second to glance between the two dogs, pondering Tia’s suggestion. She obviously knows just because a dog is calm now doesn’t mean it always will be, but something, most likely her motherly instinct is telling her not to pick the one already biting.

“Uhmmm.” He ponders. Taylour scoots closer to Tia to look at the puppy in her lap. “Ohh, this one is cute too, Mommy!”

“Mhm.”

Taylour’s eyes rapidly dart between the two dogs, and he appears deep in thought, but they both know he has zero selection criteria. A twinkle catches his eye, and his entire face somehow lights up even more.

“Can I have both puppies?”

“No.” Tia is very fast to answer.

“Puh-lease!” He turns to Auston. His move always is to try the other parent with hopes for a better outcome. “Please can I get two puppies, Daddy?”

Auston looks to Taylour, then to the puppy curled up in Tia’s arms sleeping, then to the one nibling at his wrist, and sighs. “I don’t think –“

“Please, Daddy! They can play together.” He eagerly cuts him off, desperately trying to bring home two dogs.

“Then who will you play with?” Tia can see the way Auston’s face is softening and knows she will have to be the one to shut this down.

“I’ll play with them, we’ll be best friends, all three of us!”

“I think we only need one dog for now.” Auston says dimly, but Tia knows if she wasn’t here to supervise, Auston would be bringing two dog’s home.

“No!” Taylour carefully climbs over the puppies and their toys to get to Auston and wraps his arms tightly around his neck. “We need two puppies, Daddy!”

Auston makes the mistake of looking at Taylour and sees the large pout and beady eyes, a cuteness barely rivalled by the puppy in his lap. Taylour falls to his knees and gets directly into Auston’s sightline. He puts his hands together as if he is praying, and desperately pleads with a croak in his voice. “Please can we get two, Daddy? Pleeeeease?”

Auston hates how his son knows exactly what to say and how to say it to make him forget all reason.

“Tay,” Auston sighs and prepares himself for the heartbreak, but he knows Taylour will get over it faster than Tia’s frustration if he gives in. “Just one.”

There is a groan that develops deep in his stomach as his shoulders drop. “No fair.”

“Look at how cute this little guy is though.”

Auston holds the wiggly puppy a little higher and hands it to Taylour. An excited yip comes from the puppy and a smile begins to creep its way back to Taylour’s face. “He is cute, Daddy.”

Auston reaches over and grabs a small stuffed pig and gives it to the puppy who wraps his mouth around it and starts whipping its head from side to side. “I want this one.” Taylour informs them without an ounce of hesitation.

Auston and Tia left Taylour with the puppies and found Sandra in the kitchen. They went over the paperwork and fine details. She gave them a bag with some food, a small blanket, along with a binder full of health information and veterinary records.

By the time they wandered back to the living room a few minutes later, Taylour had forgotten about his desire to bring home two. He was on his knees, heels digging into the back of his thighs, squeaking the pig in an attempt to engage the puppy.

“You two ready?” Tia walks to the edge of the puppy fencing, Auston’s hand on her back.

“Mhm.” Taylour enthusiastically nods. He stands up and Auston bends down to help him over then scoops up their puppy. “Thank you for my puppy!” Taylour addresses Sandra while making a beeline for the door.

Once Taylour was in the car, which was a task, he demanded the dog sit with him. Tia was a little uneasy about leaving them alone in the back, she had a feeling she should sit with them, just in case the puppy fell or wandered away and somehow found his way under a seat, but Auston assured her everything would be fine. He could tell she was anxious, so he reached over the console and laced his fingers with hers, then brought it to her lips and placed kisses on the back of her hand, knowing that would bring her to ease.

“What should we name him?” Auston asks as they sit at a red light, the steady sound of the blinker being drowned by the noise coming from the backseat.

“Rex.” Taylour proudly proclaims.

“Rex?” Auston probes with a laugh. The suggestion undoubtedly comes from the recent viewing of Toy Story. “I don’t know if that suits him.”

“Pickles!” He cheers from the back seat.”

“Pickles?” Tia shakes her head; she knew letting the almost-four-year-old name the dog would be a terrible idea. “What about Bernie?” She suggests in reference to its breed.

“No.” They simultaneously protest.

“How about Felix?” Auston pipes up. He doesn’t know why but the second he held him, that name felt right and it’s hard for him to imagine the dog as anything else.

“Yes!” Taylour promptly agrees. “I like that!”

Auston kept his hand linked with hers over the console as he drove the quiet Scottsdale streets. His eyes were mostly on the road, but he couldn’t help glancing in the rearview every chance he got, spending red lights turned around staring at Taylour and Felix.

The next few hours were somewhat of a blur. Taylour was eager to show Felix to Trevor and Fred. He had to FaceTime Mitch, Becks, Emily and Max,Sarah and Charlie, every person he knew. He never wanted to leave Felix, even tried getting him to come to the bathroom with him. He would lay on the floor beside him while he napped, pull him into his arms for pets, dangle a toy over his head, or run around in the yard, trying to get him to follow. Felix was a little overwhelmed at times, often quiet and reserved, unsure about the toys and people around him, but that didn’t stop Taylour. He was determined to be that pup’s best friend no matter what.

Auston found Tia in the kitchen checking her e-mail. Some Disney movie Taylour long ago lost interest in plays in the background, he uses the noise to sneak up in front of her. He presses himself into her and chuckles when she jumps.

Droplets of water fall from his hair and splatter on her shoulder, the towel that hangs loosely over his hips rubs against her thigh.

“He’s so happy.” Auston places a gentle kiss on her temple.

She peers out the glass doors to Taylour who is sitting on a lounger with Felix in his lap. She doesn’t know what he is saying, but he constantly laughs and places kisses to his head. Her heart is about to explode. She lets out a contentious sigh and rests her arms on his shoulders, aimlessly fiddling with the metal wrapped around his neck. “I’m so happy we did this.”

“Me too.” Auston tugs at her pony and tilts her head back, then places a kiss on her lips. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, too.”

Tia is expecting another kiss on her lips, only Auston ducks down and starts sucking along her neck.

“Auston.” She tries to scold him, only to shriek when he grabs a handful of ass from under her damp bathing suit.

“I want to kiss my girlfriend without a little parrot announcing it.”

“I know.” Tia sighs, because he has been announcing it - six times so far. “But we should go to our boys.”

Our boys.

Auston loves the way that sounds and even though it’s only been a couple hours he can’t wait until their family grows even more.

“They’re fine, Fred and Trevor have it under control. “Besides, you have a boy here who needs you.” He rolls her hips over his slowly growing erection and carves his nails into her flesh.

“Auston.” She playfully swats at his chest, letting out a breathy laugh.

“I told you to add fucking me to your list of things to do today,” he growls.

His fingers trail over her skin, pricked with goosebumps, until they find the bows that are holding up the barely-there bikini bottoms. His fingers tangle in and he begins to tug, loosening the knot.

“It’s like 4 pm.” It’s a futile attempt. They both know it.

Having heard no reason to stop, Auston quickly hoists her onto the counter. The towel drops to the floor as he presses her knees apart. He gently teases his fingertips past the seam of her lips, sending a ripple of goosebumps up her spine.

She wants to give in.

She can’t help it.

She spent too much time without him, her heart (among other things) physically ached for him and his touch. She never wants to be without it again, never wants to crave his physical touch like she did.

Following the hitch in her breath, two fingers slide inside, and are greedily welcomed by her heat. She arches toward his electric touch and his mouth moves toward the sweet spot below her ear.

It barely takes two minutes before a slew of curse words roll off Tia’s tongue. The air between them gets sticky and Auston licks up her neck. She can see the bulge beneath his bathing suit, rapidly swelling as he continues to stroke her inner walls. Through the pleasureful haze Tia barely manages to get her fingers under the waist band.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” Auston purrs against her neck, teeth nipping at her warm skin. Pressure builds inside her – everywhere – as Auston pets her silky inner walls. “I’m gonna bend you over this counter.” Auston’s breath is hot and heavy against her skin, fanning over her in hypnotic waves. “Kitchen’s gonna be so dirty we’ll need a hazmat team.”

Tia shudders. Her cheeks colour pink.

She wraps a leg around his hip and pulls him close. His left hand immediately finds her thigh and runs up and down. Fingerprints are left on her hips; bright red scratch marks decorate his shoulders. He’s hungry and he won’t stop until he’s had his fill of her.

“That’s what you want, right?” All thoughts disappear from her mind when his thumb starts caressing her swollen clit. Every part of her is consumed by him, and she struggles to even breathe. “To use my cock to christen this place, huh?” Her breasts bounce following every thrust, threatening to spill out of the stringy bikini top any moment. Little butterflies dance in her belly. She is barely keeping it together and Auston can tell. “M’gonna fuck you so hard a black light will break in here.”

“Mngh.” Tia chokes out, as if her tongue is glued to the top of her mouth.

“Let my friends hear.” Auston encourages her. He spits in his hand then it disappears, slathering his cock in saliva. She shudders when his warm erection nudges against her throbbing clit. “Cum baby. Show them how good I make you feel.”

Auston kneads at her fraying nerve as his breath gets hotter and heavier against her skin. They are so absorbed by the coil tightening in her belly, her release building and building -

“AUSTON!” Ema howls, absolutely horrified.

Nothing would get Auston to stop. Nothing, except his mother would get him to stop.

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series (either through likes/reblogs or by asking). If it’s crossed out your tag didn’t work. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

@youtxbemusic@nicoleloveshockey@emsully2002 @hockeypuckspottspot @ashleymarine@albal321@b34ut1fulb4st4rds@biznastysloneshift12@burkylover@c-tangerine@canadian-girl87@crazzyfann @dana-hqy @delighttfulll@evawest5@every-beautifulthing-thereis@greendragonzz@heatherawoowoo@hockeybabe87@hockeyinaussie@hockeyisit@hockeypuckedmeup@je-ne-regrette-rien@jakekisska@partypoison00 @princesscameston @puccbunni @queenmarvel21 @sixmapleleafs@starswin@trashforbarzal@0kikina0@1-fuzzy-squirrels@janeydeaux@stuff4me2do@callsign-denmark @monnbc @simpgirl-lat@huneyjojo221 @idfan21 @elly-dx@samanthasgone@holyalfalfasprout@lwstuff @mattyzmarner @ashloveshockey

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morallyinept · 4 months

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A full character analysis on DIETER BRAVO from the film THE BUBBLE.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to learn more about the character. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

FULL CHARACTER STUDY:

Basic Details:

Full Name: Dieter Bravo

Nickname(s): Unknown/not confirmed

Appears in: The Bubble, 2022 (first appearance on screen seen at approx. 09:43)

Age (if known): Unknown/not confirmed - possible mid to late 40's

Nationality: American - dialect unconfirmed

Sexuality: Possibly bisexual in the film, as he asks both female & male genders for sex

Family: Unknown/not unconfirmed

Spouse/Partner: Unknown at the beginning of film, however Dieter ends up in a relationship with hotel receptionist Anika, also a possible throuple/threesome situation with Kate, towards the end of the film

Relationship Status: Seemingly in a relationship with Anika at the end of the film

Current Living Status: Alive

Languages Spoken: English

Education: Not confirmed, although as Dieter is an actor, he would have basic school/college education, and possibly acting/drama school

Occupation:

Job Role/Title: Actor, playing the character Gio Ricci in Cliff Beasts 6

Special Skill(s): Acting, painting (Dieter paints in his hotel room, seemingly as a hobby), dancing

Notable Colleague(s): The Cliff Beasts 6 Cast

Distinguishing Features:

Tattoo(s): Bullseye tattoo on left hand between thumb and forefinger (Pedro's own), V tattoo on wrist (Pedro's own), elephant tattoo's on legs/thighs (Pedro's own), black, inverted triangle tattoo on right forearm positioned just below elbow and black triangle outline tattoo on left wrist

Piercings: Left ear pierced with single gold hoop

Scar(s): None notable

Other Markings: Freckles on neck

Eye Colour: Brown

Prominent Feature(s): Greying facial scruff, moustache, curled, fluffy hair

Injuries: Dieter passes out from a drugs overdose and goes into cardiac arrest, and has to be revived with an adrenaline needle in the chest directly to the heart

Hair Colour: Brown, slightly greying

Personality:

Traits: Addictive, sarcastic, dulcet

It's hinted that Dieter has won an Oscar, which is ironic considering his character seems to be cast in such a poor movie as Cliff Beasts 6.

Dieter's tone of voice is slightly gravelly and deep, and he speaks softly most of the time, unless he has a point to make, or gets overly excited. His accent is predominantly American, although it's not revealed where he is from directly.

Dieter is allergic to peanuts. Sean declares his allergy in the scene where they try to revive Dieter.

It's often stated by critics/character descriptions online, that Dieter is "addicted to drugs and sex." Bear in mind though, that we don't actually see Dieter have sex at all in the film, even though he asks, aside from the mirror scene, which is a hallucination whilst he's high on acid tabs.

Dieter is seen taking a variety of drugs, from his own stash, in the film such as cocaine, pills, laughing gas (black balloon) and acid tabs. He's also seen drinking whiskey and champagne.

Dieter states "change me. Change me. Change me" into the mirror, suggesting he is aware of his drug issues and wants to change.

Pedro contributed majorly to Dieter's overall look in this film.

Dieter's look has been likened to The Dude from the 1998 film The Big Lewbowski.

Dieter's black inverted triangle tattoo looks to represent the victims of the Nazi's in concentration camps known as 'asocials'. (You can read more about this at the bottom of this post.)

Dieter wears a Tibetan looking woven bracelet, hinting that he could be Buddhist.

Dieter is a keen painter. In his hotel room, you can see numerous paintings on the walls and also several canvases scattered around his room in various stages of completion. His pants also have paint on them in some scenes. Dieter also paints a large mural of the artist Franciso Goya's, Saturn Devouring His Son, on the wall. (You can find out more about that specific painting at the bottom of this post.)

It could also be assumed that Dieter has neurotic tendencies. For example, he states he doesn't wear wireless earbuds due to believeing the EMF frequencies will mess with his brainwaves.

It's apparent that Dieter seems the type to fall in love easily, as he does with Anika, and refers to her as "an angel."

Fashion/Outfits:

Outfit 1 - (Opening scene) Green gown, purple/mauve round neck t-shirt, brown pyjama/lounge pants, sunglasses

Outfit 2 - (Dinner table scene) Light sand coloured button up shirt, sunglasses (bottom half not seen in scene)

Outfit 3 - (Dog fighting scene) Brown Teddy coat, grey pants, beige/cream round neck t-shirt, crocs

Outfit 4 - (First Tiktok dance scene) Purple/mauve cardigan, beige/cream round neck t-shirt, grey/white striped pants, grey thick socks, crocs

Outfit 5 - (At the desk with Anika scene) Beige/cream round neck t-shirt, brown striped pants with what appears to be blue paint on the right thigh

Outfit 6 - (First Scene as Gio) Red mountain jacket, black cargo pants, black backpack, dark hiking boots

Outfit 7 - (In the lounge scene) Purple/mauve cardigan, beige/cream round neck t-shirt, grey/white striped patterned pants, grey thick socks, crocs

Outfit 8 - (Quarantine montage scenes) Beige/cream round neck t-shirt, brown striped pants

Outfit 9 - (Passing the plate through the doorway scene) Green gown, white round neck t-shirt

Outfit 10 - (Meditation scene) Green gown, beige/cream round neck t-shirt, grey pants, grey thick socks, crocs

Outfit 11 - (Tracking probe Scene) Zebra striped sweater, three quarter length dark grey cargo pants/long shorts that look to be covered in paint, grey thick socks, crocs

Outfit 12 - (Pippa & Gunther sex proposition & Kate mirror scene) Beige/cream round neck t-shirt, brown striped pants, grey thick socks

Outfit 13 - (Vomit scene) Beige/cream round neck t-shirt, grey pants, black underpants

Outfit 14 - (Carol's plan scene) Beige/brown sweater, grey/white striped pants, crocs, grey thick socks

Outfit 15 - (Toilet plunge scene) Green gown, beige/cream round neck t-shirt, brown striped pants, sunglasses

Outfit 16 - (As Gio) Blue/green long sleeved sweater, black thermal vest, black cargo pants, dark hiking boots

Outfit 17 - (Beck dance scene) Brown Teddy coat, purple/mauve round neck t-shirt, brown striped pants, crocs

Outfit 18 - (ET interview scene) Velvet brown patterned shirt, black jeans, black boots, sunglasses

Outfit 19 - (Drugs scene & Tiktok dance scene) Brown Teddy coat, grey shorts/boxers, sunglasses, grey grey thick socks, crocs

Outfit 20 - (Red carpet scene) Black silk floral/embossed suit, black mesh see through shirt, black shoes

Outfit 21 - (Featurette) Dieter wears a blue button up shirt with white check lines, sunglasses

Accessories: Sunglasses, Tibetan style woven bracelet on left wrist in primary orange/red/blue colours, silver wolf head ring worn on left pinky finger, silver ring with black gemstone worn on left pointer finger, gold hoop earring in left ear, black iPhone.

Weapons Used:

Weapon(s): As Gio only, fire pulse gun

Modes of Transport:

Vehicle(s):

Dieter is a passenger in a helicopter. Model used is an Airbus Helicopter AS355 F1, G-BOSN. (The helicopter was also involved in an incident on set when a fire broke out during filming. No-one was confirmed hurt or injured.)

Dialogue:

🗨 See Dieter's full dialogue from the film, including deleted scenes.

Further Character Links (if any):

The Bubble Behind The Scenes, Small details you missed in The Bubble, Dieter Bravo Behind The Scenes, Director Spotlight On Set Featurette, Dieter as Gio Scenes

The Black Inverted Triangle & its meaning

Goya's Saturn Devouring His Son painting

Samples of Dieter's Wardrobe - Green robe, velvet shirt, brown striped pants, Gio's red jacket, Gio's thermal vest, zebra sweater & sunglasses info obtained via Styleofpascal IG

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo the bubble #the bubble film #PPCU #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal character analysis #pedro pascal character study #pedro pascal character database

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years

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In Too Deep | 0.1 | Jake Seresin

Synopsis: Jake Seresin had sworn he was never going to be a father. He liked his life the way that it was, child-free, stress free and chaos free. Free being the key word. After falling for you, it becomes clear that Jake is in for an attitude adjustment, whether he likes it or not.

Warnings: no smut, maybe allusions to sex at various points, swearing, fluff and teeny bits of angst if you squint. No major warnings (:

…

"So he just... doesn't talk at all?" Fanboy asks as he keeps up a comically wide grin to entertain the giggling boy on Jake's lap. He sticks his tongue out and earns a particularly impressed laugh.

"Not a word." Jake confirms as he shakes his head and looks over at Riley playing on the monkey bars.

He's sitting in the outdoor sitting area of a bar a few buildings along from the Hard Deck. They're here solely because this place has a playground to keep Riley occupied.

"Not even Mama?" Phoenix asks, concerned.

"Mama?" Rooster leans in and says the word in a sing-songy voice like he's the miracle that's going to get Jackson to break his three year vow of silence. Jake furrows his eyebrows and shifts Jackson further away from him.

"Get that stupid moustache out of the kid's face, you're gonna traumatise him." Jake scolds, glancing down at Jackson to check for signs of recent trauma. Rooster's face drops, hurt. It’s just salt in the wound when Coyote splutters over his drink at the comment.

Jake continues, "And nope. She says he said Mama once when he was like ten months, but it's been radio silence since — he was born early, they think it’s a preemie baby thing."

"And he's three now?" Payback asks, looking just as concerned as Phoenix.

"Doctors say he'll talk when he's ready. He sees a speech therapist twice a week to help." Jake explains, as he shrugs his shoulders. He looks down at the child in his arms and furrows his eyebrows curiously. "The rest of his development's fine, he knows what we’re saying and stuff apparently. He knows a little bit of sign language, right Jaxy?”

Jackson stares up at him, then looks bashfully back toward the crowd of adults watching him expectantly. He sinks closer to Jake, curling a chubby fist around the fabric of Jake’s shirt. Rooster coos, pressing a hand over his heart. The heart swelling feeling isn’t shared by Phoenix as she eyes her coworker dubiously.

Payback lifts his head and looks towards the girl on the monkey bars and looks back at Jake sympathetically, "Any progress with the big kid?"

"Nope, still hates my guts." Jake mutters, resting his chin on his fist.

"Can't blame her." Rooster retorts, still upset at the moustache comment. Jake narrows his eyes at him.

Payback’s eldest daughter is over on the monkey bars too. She’s nine, the two of them seem to be getting along pretty well. Jake’s grateful that Rueben brought her along. He’s grateful for Rueben all around, honestly.

Jake had been living a bachelor lifestyle for quite some time, he didn’t make a habit of cultivating friendships with people who had already settled down. But, Rueben’s experience with two daughters of his own — who weren’t far off of Riley’s age — was going to be a godsend.

“How the hell do you bond with an eight year old girl?” Jake sighs gently. “All she wants to do is tell me how much cooler her Daddy is than me because he’s a fireman!”

Bob squints across the bench, adjusting his glasses, “She knows you’re a fighter pilot, right?”

“I don’t think she really knows what it is. If she does, she thinks it’s lame.” Jake mutters defeatedly. Jax writhes impatiently on his lap, wriggling out of his arms and planting his feet on the ground. He immediately tries to take off in the direction of his older sister and makes a disgruntled sound as Jake stops him.

“Hey, hey, Jax—“

“I got him.” Rooster gets up and slips his index finger into Jax’s palm. Jake watches him grin as he lets the toddler lead him away.

Phoenix watches as Rooster takes Jax over to the playground and lifts him up onto the slide — Jax smiles for the first time since they got there. No one can deny that Rooster’s a natural at this. She turns her attention back over to Jake, “You’re in over your head with this.”

“Thanks, Nat. Makes me feel way better.” Jake groans sarcastically, resting his chin against his fist as he watches Rooster. He doesn’t understand how it comes so naturally to someone that was an only child with no kids of his own.

“You must really like this girl.” Payback decides. Jake can’t get over the way he always seems to have half of his attention on his kid. Even when he’s looking ahead and talking to them, he looks back across a couple of seconds later and everything’s always fine.

“She’s incredible,” Jake agrees, “She’s perfect. These kids mean the world to her, it’s never going to work out if I don’t get them to like me. I don’t want to lose her.”

Bob raises his eyebrows in surprise as he sips on his Diet Coke. He shares a glance across at Phoenix. Neither of them ever thought they would hear Hangman say he loved someone. Other than himself.

“Once Riley stops hating me, everything’ll be perfect.” Jake turns his head and looks over at what’s happening on the playground. His friends all follow his gaze. Jake’s features harden. No way. Bradshaw has already won her over.

Rooster is holding Jax onto the monkey bars, Riley is holding onto the same run beside him. “Okay, three… two… go!” Rooster carries Jax forwards. Jax has no idea how to play this game, his hands aren’t even touching most of the bars, but he’s giggling excitedly as Riley uses all of her strength to race him.

Rooster lets her win. She’s beaming proudly with her hands in the air.

“We’ll get her next time, huh, JJ?” Rooster tickles the toddler and earns another excited giggle.

“Rooster, will you spin us on the merry-go-round?” Payback’s daughter, Hailey, asks. Rooster looks over the moon to have been asked. He carries the toddler over, letting the two girls lead the way.

Jake rolls his eyes as he turns back to his friends. Payback grins as he pats Jake’s shoulder.

“When does Y/N leave, again?”

“Tomorrow morning, today’s the trial run whilst she packs.” Jake explains, ignoring the sounds of the kids having the time of their lives with Rooster. “Hey, Fitch, what’s the stance on bribery? — would that make me a bad step-dad?”

Payback laughs as he sips on a Diet Coke, “Bribery is a fundamental part of fatherhood, dude. But use it wisely or she’ll figure you out.”

Fatherhood. Jake feels sweat beading on his forehead at the simple mention of the word. He looks over again, Riley’s head is thrown back laughing as she clings onto her brother whilst Rooster spins them.

He sighs gently as he checks his watch.

“You’re gonna have to get Hailey to put in a good word for me or something.” He decides. Payback smiles almost sympathetically. While he can sympathise with the struggles of being a father, he hasn’t ever had to go through trying to bond with someone else’s child.

Bob almost chuckles at the fact that they’ve finally found something that Jake isn’t a natural at.

“I should probably get them back,” Jake mutters, it’s clear to all of his friends that he’s nervous about alone time with these kids. “Promised Mama that I would wear them out so they’re cute and cuddly for her tonight.”

Payback laughs as he turns his head towards the children. Rooster looks more tired than them as he struggles to keep up with their demands to spin them faster.

…

“Why can’t I just go stay with Daddy?” Jake pretends that doesn’t sting. He pretends not to hear all together. He’s kind of eavesdropping anyway, so it’s his own fault that his feelings are hurt.

He presses his back to the wall as he listens in.

“Riley, we’ve talked about this. Daddy’s too busy to have you for that whole time. You’re going to have so much fun with Jake.” Your curled up at her side in her twin bed, stroking her hair delicately. She sighs and snuggles close to you.

“Mommy, please don’t go.” She looks up at you and your heart breaks. For a moment, you regret trying to have it all. It reminds you of a comment your ex-mother-in-law made a few years back. She had said that there was no way to have a successful career and to be a good mother, you would just be half-assing both for the rest of your life.

At the time, you had been seething angry about the comment. It still made your blood boil sometimes. But you think for a moment that maybe she was right.

“It’s just for a few weeks, baby. I’ll be back before you know it, and you can call me whenever you want. Jake is going to take such good care of you, I promise.” You press your lips to the top of her head and hold her tight. She squeezes her arms around you.

Jake lets out a soft breath.

He has always taken great pride in being successful at absolutely everything he does, but this is serious. It occurs to him that it’s not just his pride at stake.

He’s so caught up in drafting a game plan for the next four weeks that he doesn’t hear you kiss her goodnight. Jake flinches as you step out of the room and catch him in the hallway. You don’t laugh at him, which is how he knows this is serious.

You sigh softly as you lean against him. He wraps his arms firmly around you and kisses the top of your head.

“Am I doing the wrong thing? — Do you think I should stay?” You ask gently. It’s stupid, you know he’s programmed to tell you want you want to hear. Still, hearing it is going to help.

“Hey, look at me.”

You oblige, meeting his eyes. He smiles in the face of danger, like he isn’t terrified, “I’m not going to let you down. She’ll come around, we’re going to have an awesome couple of weeks and you’re going to kill it in Vancouver.”

You whine softly at how perfect he is, throwing yourself against his chest once more. You can’t help but wonder what you did to earn yourself someone like Jake.

Jake could not be more afraid of screwing this up, but that’s somewhat of a relief to him. It means that he’s already doing a better job than his old man ever did — there’s no way in hell that guy ever stopped to consider if he was doing the right thing for his children. That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he’s in love with you and that he isn’t going to let himself mess this up.

He’s been on the toughest missions the U.S. Navy has to offer — Fatherhood can’t be any scarier than that, surely?

“Can we just go over their schedules and rules one last time, please?” You need the peace of mind. You’ve been over this a million times already, but Jake smiles softly and nods his head.

“Of course. You can quiz me, I’ve got it nailed.”

He does have it nailed. It’s like he’s been studying, in fact. JJ’s speech therapy is on Thursdays and Tuesdays at 9am. Riley’s Girl Scout meeting on Mondays at 5 and her soccer on Saturdays at 10.

Under no circumstances let Riley watch scary movies and never let Jax eat ice cream — he’ll eat it until he pukes.

You sleep soundly against his chest, knowing deep down that Jake’s got this. Jake’s night is a little bit more restless. He hears Riley awake at 6am, and decides to take the initiative of getting up with her so that she doesn’t wake you any earlier than necessary.

Like you’ve told him, she’s pretty self-sufficient nowadays. She can fix herself cereal in the mornings, she can bathe herself and pick out her own outfits — she still needs help with her hair sometimes but she’ll try to convince you that she doesn’t. Always check her homework before letting her hand it in.

“Morning, kiddo.” Jake pads into the living room, barefoot and wearing pyjamas, his hair still fluffy from his night of tossing and turning. Riley turns to look up him over the back of the sofa and narrows her eyes.

“Oh, you stayed, again.”

Jake smiles and remembers Payback’s advice — never let children know that you don’t know what you’re doing, “Well, I’m gonna be staying here with you guys for the next couple of weeks so your Mom thought it would be a good idea for me to get used to the place.”

She doesn’t reply, turning her attention back to her cartoons. He crosses around to sit on the other side of the couch, “What are we watching?”

“I’m watching Supernatural Academy.” She answers, not looking away from the show. Jake hums like he knows what that is,

“What’s it about?”

Riley shoots him a look, dubious. “Two sisters who are werewolves.”

He nods. Part of him feels like this is a test. The show that he’s watching now doesn’t seem like it’s scary, but he isn’t sure how far the scary movie rule extends. He knows that the supernatural and horror often go hand in hand. Jake shifts on the sofa, settling in as he observes the plot, trying to figure out if the parenting needs to begin now or not.

“I was thinking we could maybe go bowling after we drop your mom off at the airport later? — Teach Jax how it’s done?” It’s an olive branch, and they both know it. Riley turns her head and looks him over. She’s quiet for a moment too long, making Jake eye her almost nervously.

“Okay.” She turns her attention back to the show, oblivious to the sigh of relief that Jake lets out.

You’re thrilled when he tells you that she agreed. It makes the entire ordeal easier. The morning goes great. Jax wakes up in a great mood and spends most of the morning kissing your cheek and hugging your knee. Riley’s doing better than expected, she’s especially happy today because she put her own hair in a ponytail with no bumps or flyaways.

You wrap your arms around Jake first as you reach your gate, leaning in close and pressing your lips to his, “Thank you so much, Jake. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jake beams, sliding his arms around your middle, being the perfect gentleman as he keeps his hand on the small of your back. “We’re gonna miss you.”

You laugh as you release him and crouch down to swoop both kids into a hug at the same time.

“I’ll see you all before you know it, I love you guys!”

Jake lifts JJ into his arms and waves as you leave for the plane. Riley waves at his side. You turn to catch one last look, your heart swelling as he puts his hand on her shoulder and turns to say something. You have no doubts.

“So, bowling?” Jake turns towards Riley and smiles. She looks off toward the direction that you just left, sighs, and looks back at him dully.

“Okay…” She resigns, practically dragging her feet as she turns to head out of the airport.

That makes things easier. If he can cheer her up, she’ll have no choice but to like him. Like Payback had confidently advised him over the phone this morning, Moms and Dads have nothing to do with it — kids like people who show up. People who are there consistently. People who show that they care.

Jake can handle that.

…

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman x you #top gun maverick #glen powell #in too deep

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ken-dom · 7 months

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Thinking about forgetting your sweater with Lar’s and he feels so flustered having it with him in the garage holding it the night before he giving it back to you

Or that prompt reversed, Lar’s forgetting his sweater with you and you return it to him the next day with it smelling like you!! - <3

You knock gently at Lars’s door, knowing him well enough to understand that an unexpected visitor could startle him. Perhaps even more so if he knew it was you (you’d like to think, anyway).

He appears at his window first, peeking out under a knitted brow, curious, cautious, with a half-full glass of milk clutched in his hand.

You pretend not to notice him there, but you can't help but bite your lips together at how cute and… kind of hot he looks in his longjohns.

You wait patiently, and he eventually appears at the door, layered up with a few more clothes, but his face turns white as he realises he hasn't actually checked a mirror. His arm slowly moves up, wiping the milk off his moustache with his sleeve. He's very thorough about it and you bite your lips again trying not to giggle at how cute it is.

He doesn't say a word, standing before you in stunned silence, hoping you won't ask to come in.

‘Hi Lars,’ you greet softly with a gentle smile pulling at your lips. You can't help but grin and blush every time you look at him, and it's even harder not to when he's mere inches away.

‘Hey,’ he breathes, frozen to the spot, eyes like a rabbit in the headlights.

‘I think you accidentally took my sweater, and I have yours. I know they’re kind of similar…’

His eyebrows raise. ‘Oh! Ok… hold on.’

He closes the door so there’s only an inch of space. You peer through, not intending to intrude, but wondering why he needed to close it at all. You see him shuffle hurriedly over to his bed in the far corner, fighting with the duvet for a moment before whipping out your sweater.

Your heart leaps in your chest. He’s slept with it in his bed?! Wearing it? Holding it?

He opens the door again as you clear your throat, trying not to look like you just watched him fish your clothes out of his bedsheets. Hs's somehow more sheepish than before as he holds the garment out to you, folded neatly now.

You reach out, eyes locked on his. His pupils are dilated and his cheeks are pink, but so are yours, and you feel drawn together like magnets. Only not enough to move actually closer. Not yet.

With your focus tied up in his eyes, and his on yours, your finger brushes lightly against his. It was the briefest, tenderest of touches, but even so, you knew it might hurt him and you retreat.

But he doesn't flinch. He simply continues to gaze into the depths of your eyes until you break away with your jumper in hand.

You’re not sure what's come over you, but you immediately press it to your face, breathing in deeply. It feels... warm. Has he just now been curled up with it? In his underwear, drinking his milk? Good heavens.

‘Smells like you,’ you whisper with the ghost of a smile, knowing that if there's ever a time to let him know that you like the way he smells, now would be that time.

His cheeks turn positively crimson then, panic setting in that you’ll know he slept clutching it to his own nose so he could smell you, that he rushed home from work to curl up with it again, to soothe the stresses of the day with that small comfort. The rest of his blush is made up of heat at the thought that you might not actually mind him doing that. He kind of hopes you'll accidentally swap sweaters again... even if it did initially take him a solid hour to actually lay beside it in his bed.

You hand him a paper bag with his sweater neatly folded inside and smile again, trying not to skip back to your car as you depart on that note, leaving him blushing and lost for words on his doorstep.

‘Bye,’ Lars mutters under his breath, so quiet that you have no chance of hearing him.

He waves dreamily as you climb into your car, then slams his door closed, falling back against it to steady himself before going to finish his glass of milk. That will calm him. Probably. But not as much as your sweater.

#lars and the real girl #lars lindstrom x reader #ryan gosling #lars lindstrom #lars lindstrom x y/n #lars lindstrom x you #lars lindstrom fluff #lars and the real girl fic #ryan gosling fluff #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x y/n #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling fic #ken-dom writes #ken-dom answers #lars lindstrom imagines

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lovewisegirl06 · 7 months

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ANDREIL HEADCANONS FOR THE SOUL:

- Neil doesn't like sweets (Canon fact) but he was willing to take baking classes in order to gift Andrew some chocolate cookies for his birthday (Among other things he learned how to prepare) If the foxes notice him walking funny the next day, Andrew's death stare kept them at bay.

- Andrew knows Neil's schedule and makes sure to remind him to take something with him to eat between breaks. Sometimes he makes small sandwiches and Neil dies inside every time he finds one in his bag.

-Neil leaves post it notes in the fridge when he goes out for a run and Andrew keeps them inside a small box (He also keeps there the receipts from every book Neil has gifted him and of the places they have gone to different dates.)

- When Neil has a nightmare and can't go back to sleep, Andrew tells him about the new book or series he's been paying attention to lately. As they get better with touching and casual PDA, Andrew lets Neil rest his head on his chest and curls his fingers through those red curls until Neil falls asleep again. (Somewhere down the line, this starts happening even when the nightmares are gone.)

- Once, Andrew took a class where he learned how to profile criminals. Neil helped him with all his assignments because damn is he good at figuring people out.

- Sometimes, when Andrew wants to mess with Neil before a game, he leans in and whispers in Russian "The amount of times you score tonight, it's the amount of times I'll let you score when we're alone" at first Neil doesn't get it, but later when they are...celebrating...well, while he's catching his breath and his tights are trembling and he's panting like he ran a marathon and Andrew asks him if he can give him a fourth one...How can he say no? (Kevin and later on Robin learned to make themselves scarce when Neil is determine to at least score five times during a game)

- When Andrew graduates and they are doing long distance, they make sure to call each other every night to talk or simply hear each other breathe. It's the only times Neil keeps his phone fully charged.

- Andrew once tells Neil how there was a cat on one of his foster homes and how much he liked the cat, especially since once that furball scratched and fought when his foster father entered his bedroom one night. Neil mentions how they should get one when they are living together after graduation and can't understand why Andrew kisses him with so much desperation (It's the fact he said When instead of If. But Andrew won't tell him that)

- During Halloween of Neil's second year, Allison wanted to win a bet and convinced Neil to dress up as a bunny (I'm talking about shorts with high tights and bunny ears, with drawn moustaches and everything) Andrew kept quiet the entire time at Eden's and Neil through something bad had happened. Later that night, when he was riding Andrew in their room at Columbia and he heard the "That's it, keep doing that bunny" he understood it was anything but bad. (And if the pet name stuck, it's between them and them only) (Oh my God, maybe I'll write a one shot about this? Should I?)

- Sometimes Neil lets out words in the different languages he knows because he can't remember the English word (Things we bilinguals know can happen) Andrew refuses to tell him the correct word and it's one of the few times something akin to a smile appears on his face.

-Andrew allows Neil to fight his own battles, especially regarding Jack. But after Neil punched the guy, Andrew made sure to carefully explained him what would happen if he ever made another comment towards Neil's appearance.

- Neil leaves scratches down Andrew's back when they're having sex. The first time it happened and he was about to apologize, Andrew pounded into him so hard he saw stars. Andrew won't say it, but he finds the tiny marks something interesting to look at after they're done (Plus, Neil only does it when he's about to come, so it's a great tell tale if he wants to edge him for a while. Scientific purposes)

#aftg #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #nora sakavic #all for the game #andreil headcanons #aftg headcanons

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thefrogdalorian · 4 months

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Dincember Day 25: Holiday

Word Count: 1498 Rating: General Summary: Waking up before Din on Life Day gives you the opportunity to admire all the little details and features of the man you love so much. Content Warnings: Just some smooching :) Author's Note: This was so soft and I loved writing this for the last entry. Just reader simping for Din Djarin, what a mood. It also leads into Day 6 - Gifts. Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed my contribution to Dincember I'm a little stunned I managed to make it through but very proud of myself. Thanks to anyone who has engaged with my entries, it really means the world! Merry Christmas everyone!🎄♡

Link to read on AO3 | My Dincember Masterlist

The cabin was entirely silent, except for the soft snores coming from the man whose arms you were lying in. You could tell from the light drifting underneath the blinds that it was early morning; the light was pale and weak and still a bright white, which indicated that the deep frost that the surface of Nevarro had been covered in had not entirely thawed yet. It would make the holiday all the more exciting.

Life Day was finally here. It was the first time you would celebrate it with Din and Grogu in your little cabin here on Nevarro, and the first time that Din would celebrate it altogether. You were so excited for the day that lay ahead for many reasons, but mostly you were excited to witness Din's reaction to the carefully-selected gift that you had secured for him.

Your gift was from his home world and you knew that it would mean a great deal to him. It was a cut of fabric called Aq Vetina Carmine that an incredible vendor at the market had been able to source for you. You were excited to see what gifts Din had for you, but you were even more excited to see his reaction to the red fabric that was sure to bring back so many memories for him.

But that was all to come later in the day. For now, you were simply enjoying the stillness and tranquillity of the moment, cuddled up to the man you loved, in your little home together. Din’s arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you, his large hands splayed out across your stomach. You felt so protected and warm in his arms, when Din held you like this you had never felt safer. His rhythmic breathing as he slept was tickling the back of your neck slightly, not in an unpleasant way, but it was a funny sensation. Mostly, it was a pleasant reminder that he was something tangible, not a figment of your imagination. Din was such a wonderful partner that sometimes you wondered if in your loneliness on your home planet, you had dreamt him up. But no, he was really here, holding you tightly in his arms.

Mercifully, Grogu was seemingly still sleeping peacefully, giving you the opportunity to enjoy this moment. He had not burst into the room with excitement and hauled you and Din out of bed so he could tear into the mountain of gifts that you had carefully wrapped for him. You and Din had both vowed not to spoil Grogu too much. After all, wherever he went in the galaxy he was spoiled by everyone he encountered, even without you and Din. People just found him too adorable to resist; you couldn’t blame any of them, you also thought that Grogu was the cutest baby in the galaxy. Plus, it was Life Day. He was allowed to be a little extra spoiled for one day.

You sighed and shifted in Din’s embrace carefully, turning over to face him, your head on the pillow next to his so you could admire his handsome features while he slept. His hair was tousled from sleep, the dark brown curls sticking up at odd angles. You noticed the flecks of grey that were beginning to appear more prominently in his curls. Rather than making him look older, you thought about how distinguished he looked. His tan skin was practically glowing in the pale light of the morning. Your eyes travelled down towards his facial hair, the grey flecks mixed in with the darker brown that most of his moustache and patchy beard was in colour. The wrinkles around his eyes and that lined his forehead were evidence of both the stressful life he had led and the many times he had smiled or laughed in joy. An emotion that had been so rare for him until he had found you and Grogu. Now, those same wrinkles were relaxed and smoothed out in slumber. All except for the permanent wrinkle that rested on Din’s forehead, just above his nose between Din’s dark brown eyebrows. It was a feature that you found particularly adorable, another stunning detail of the expressive face you loved so much.

Your gaze stayed admiring that part of Din’s face, around his eyes. You noticed his dark, impossibly long eyelashes were touching on his closed eyes. You were enthralled by him, so many details that comprised the man you loved. Even asleep, Din Djarin was mesmerising. Your heart constricted briefly as you noticed the small scab near his temple, evidence of the tumble he had taken while ice skating the previous day. He had given you such a fright afterwards as you were worried that he would not be able to enjoy Life Day. But fortunately, it seemed after Din had made it back to the cabin and had lain down for a while, he was not too badly affected, just a little shaken. Which was understandable, the apologetic man had hurtled into him at quite a speed. Although Din had complained of a headache last night, you hoped that a good night’s sleep would have alleviated the pain. It certainly seemed as though that was the case, given how restful he appeared in slumber.

You weren't sure for how long you remained lying there in your quiet reverence, admiring every inch, every crevice and tiny detail of Din’s face. It could have been hours or it could have been minutes, but but however long: it was never enough. You could easily spend the rest of your life admiring Din Djarin like this.

Your appreciative glances at the man you loved came to an abrupt end, when the eyelashes that you had just been admiring moved as Din's eyes flickered open. You smiled as the brown eyes you loved to gaze into so much were right there, sparkling in the early morning light. Din blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings and the light. But eventually his gaze locked with yours. The eye contact took your breath away. How lucky were you that this thoroughly gorgeous man looked at you in this way, with so much love in his eyes?

“Good morning,” You whispered, your hand coming up to cup Din’s chin and stroke his cheek with your thumb, the grey and brown stubble there was scratchy underneath your touch.

“Good morning, cyare,” Din replied, leaning in to kiss you softly. Din hummed happily at the contact, then added “Happy Life Day.”

“Happy Life Day, Din,” You murmured. “I hope you enjoy your first time celebrating it. I can’t wait to exchange gifts and eat some good food with you.”

“Me neither,” Din smiled happily. “And I’m sure I will. You’ve introduced me to so many traditions and we’ve had so much fun already together… I can’t believe we still get to celebrate the actual holiday.”

“Well, now you’ll get to see what everything was building up to,” You grinned. “How are you feeling now?” You asked, in reference to the ice skating catastrophe of the previous day.

“My head feels much better, thank you,” Din reassured you. You had been pretty upset the previous night, worrying that he would not be in a fit condition to fully celebrate Life Day in the way you had planned.

“Oh, Din. I’m so glad to hear that,” You breathed, before you pressed a soft kiss to the little scab on his temple. “Probably need to keep kissing you, though. Just to make sure your head heals.”

“Oh yeah?” Din said, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

“Yeah,” You breathed, closing the gap between you. You pressed a small kiss to the spot where his tumble onto the ice had left a physical mark. Then you aimed for his lips, kissing him softly.

The kisses started off gentle, but something between you shifted and the gentle kisses gradually became more and more needy. Din captured your lips desperately, one hand held the back of your head and the other the side of your jaw as his teeth grazed against your bottom lip. It was as though he suddenly had an overwhelming need for you, he was totally overcome with want. You grinned into the kiss, your lips curling into a smile against his facial hair. Din pulled away and buried his face against your shoulder.

“Love you so much, mesh’la,” Din growled into your neck.

“I love you too, Din,” Your reply was cut short, you gasped as Din began kissing the side of your neck.

You were stunned by Din’s sudden desperation, but you weren't going to complain. It seemed that perhaps the festive spirit had manifested in a somewhat surprising way for Din: it had ignited a need for you that you were more than happy to oblige. You sighed happily as Din continued pressing hot kisses onto your neck, now adding teeth to the equation.

It was the perfect way to start the holiday.

#dincember 2023 #din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal characters #my fics #ANNNNND THAT'S A WRAP!!#i will miss dincember so much #had so much fun <3

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wolves-in-the-world · 8 months

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Goran Višnjić as Nikola Tesla in Doctor Who 12.4, Nikola Tesla's Night of Terror.

image descriptions below the cut

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[1] A still from an episode of Doctor Who, showing Goran as Nikola Tesla in front of Niagara Falls with an audience of men in suits and top hats, only their backs shown to us. Nikola is gesturing towards the waterfall as he speaks. He's a tall, slim man of about fifty in an old-fashioned suit with a tailcoat, pinstriped trousers, a waistcoat and watch-chain. He has a moustache, and brown hair parted in the middle, a few inches long and styled neatly with a bit of a wave.

[2] Goran as Nikola Tesla gesturing towards a device I don't understand well enough to even describe except that it's two corrugated metal cylinders and electricity is arcing between them, blue and dramatic, while he gestures like a magician. His other hand is on a lever, his face obscured by a starburst of blue light.

[3] A close-up of Goran as Nikola Tesla with a lightbulb in the foreground gleaming with warm light. He's looking off-screen and smiling slightly, eyes large and grey-blue, eyebrows raised, creases in his forehead and around his mouth. He's wearing a butterscotch-yellow tie with a wing or tuxedo shirt collar.

[4] A side-on view of Goran as Nikola Tesla bent over a workbench doing something with a tool we only see as a faint gleam of metal. He's bent almost double, intent on his work, a curl of hair falling down above his forehead, his coat gone and his shirt sleeves rucked up to the elbow so that his arms are bare and evidently hairy. The scene's dark, lit only by a candle lamp.

[5] A view of Goran as Nikola Tesla looking at a figure mostly out of view, visible to us only as blonde hair at the side of the screen. Nikola's eyes are a little wide, his mouth slightly open, making him look bewildered, and perhaps wary - I thought of it as his "okay, either you or this situation is bonkers" face. His thumb is just visible at the bottom of the screen, suggesting he's gesturing or fidgeting with his hands.

[6] A view of Goran in a crowded street, no coat, standing almost a head taller than everyone else and gesturing with one hand in a way that signals frustration or defensiveness, his eyes closed, mouth open as he speaks. A few bowler hats are visible around him, and a few of Nikola's companions - Dorothy, a serious-faced woman of thirty or so with tightly curly hair and smart clothing; the Doctor, currently a woman with straight blonde hair looking curiously past Dorothy; and just a glimpse of Yasmin in the background in a flat blue hat.

[7] A side-on view of Jodie Whittaker as the Doctor and Goran as Nikola both paying rapt attention to a glowing green mechanical-looking ball in a dish, with the Doctor pointing her sonic screwdriver at it and Nikola bending down to watch at the opposite side of the desk, hands folded together as if he's fidgeting, intent on her work. The Doctor's in a long light grey coat with a hood, incongruous for the era, and it's clear she'd be a lot shorter than him if he weren't currently courting back pain.

[8] The same scene as before, minutes later - the Doctor only visible as blonde hair in the foreground, Nikola's face transformed like he's realised something wonderful, eyes on the Doctor and leaning forward slightly, or still leaning on the desk. His mouth is open as he talks, his eyes bright, skin creasing faintly at the corners with a real smile.

[9] The same scene as before, seconds later. Goran as Nikola is looking to the side, no longer smiling but serious and thoughtful.

[10] The same scene as before, seconds later. Nikola is looking back at the Doctor and raising his eyebrows in a question at something she said, his forehead creasing, his expression perhaps a little doubtful.

[11] A close-up of Goran as Nikola in a room with warmer and dimmer lighting, his hair coming loose a bit as short curls on his forehead, frowning as he talks to someone off-screen. The angle exaggerates his nose, emphasises the lines around his mouth.

[12] A different view of the scene, zoomed out. Nikola is bent over a worktable beside Yasmin, a young woman with curled hair and a smart navy-blue jacket, and they're looking at each other as though discussing a problem, Nikola folding or rubbing his hands together. The desk of a mess of wires and oddments, lit bulbs in metal cages and what might be the odd green ball from earlier.

[13] Nikola and Yasmin in a very different location, dimly lit, with strange red lights in the background and a green light over their faces. (They're on an alien spaceship.) Yasmin is looking down at the floor like she's stunned, mouth open, and Nikola is holding her arm like he's just pulled her back, but his eyes are on something or someone else we can't see. His eyes are wide, his expression startled and openly afraid.

[14] Nikola and Yasmin still on the spaceship, blurry machinery behind them, but Nikola is almost level with Yasmin now and they're standing close, both looking at a third party off-screen. Yasmin's expression is one of distaste and a little anger, and Nikola's eyebrows are drawn down, expression somewhere between bewildered and worried.

[15] A different scene, different lighting - deep blue in the background, warm light on Nikola's face. It's an odd angle, his head ducked as though looking at something, his expression serious.

[16] A different scene, perhaps daytime with electric lighting, Nikola in conversation with someone off-screen who's clearly shorter than him. His hair's a little disarrayed, eyebrows raised and forehead creased, but there's something of a smile to his eyes and his mouth that gentles it.

[17] The same scene, seconds later, slightly zoomed in. Nikola's eyebrows are lower, forehead still creased and eyes a little scrunched, like he doesn't understand yet what the other person means. There's something tender about it still.

[18] A different room, darker, Nikola grinning while the Doctor is mostly off-screen, just a little of her hair visible, except she's raising a hand for a high-five that he isn't reciprocating. Creases are splayed out from his eyes, deep ones around his mouth, his nose sharp from this angle.

[19] A different view of the high-five moment, focusing on the Doctor as she realises he doesn't know to reciprocate - the high-five wasn't invented yet - and starts to lower her hand. Her mouth is wide open, teeth showing, somewhere between a grin and talking, and her body language is open exuberance. The creases around Nikola's eyes are still very visible from this angle, though most of his face isn't.

[20] A view of Goran as Nikola with his eyes closed as if he's blocking something out, and a look of forbearance and faint frustration on his face.

[21] A side-on view of Goran as Nikola, a shorter man in the background and the TARDIS behind them both, its windows glowing white. Nikola's expression is determined and a little grim, more hair curling messily against his forehead.

[22] A view of Goran as Nikola outside, trees in the background, a blurry blue-white sky and what might be yellowish grass. He's wearing old-fashioned aviator goggles on his forehead, where they're pushing his hair up so it's even messier, and he's looking down at something with a troubled expression.

[23] A view of the Doctor and Goran as Nikola in the TARDIS, the scene awash in electric blue and peach-pink, and no other lighting. The Doctor's leant over the TARDIS controls doing something there and looking back at Nikola, who has picked up some sort of contraption and is looking down at it, expression either troubled or focused. The light on his face is blue, throwing his features into sharp and unflattering relief.

[24] A view of Goran as Nikola in the TARDIS still, the lighting blue, the angle of his shoulders suggesting his hands are on his hips, and his expression now one of open joy. His eyes are large, his mouth open and smiling slightly, soft creases on either side.

[25] A view of Goran as Nikola on the street, looking with his head tilted at someone in the foreground - barely visible, except for the bowler hat. Nikola's expression is tolerant, a restrained smile with narrow eyes, and his hands are probably clasped behind his back.

[26] A view of Goran as Nikola on the street, now talking to the Doctor, only the back of her head visible. Nikola's in the same pose as before, hands behind his back, only leaning slightly towards her now, his expression warm as he talks to her. The creases around his eyes are back, and it's another angle that emphasises his nose.

[27] The same view as before, only now Nikola's ducked his head, almost like he's shy, or needs a moment to collect himself. The creases have gone from his eyes, but the smile's still there at his mouth.

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#Goran Višnjić #Goran Visnjic #doctor who #nikola tesla's night of terror #orig #genuinely just a screenshot dump please excuse the various lighting crimes #this was my exposure to the actor playing a genuinely nice guy and it turned my entire brain on its head thank you #he does such a great job with this I'm just thrilled he gets to play sweet characters too #also slightly offended the doctor didn't adopt him. c'mon doctor you need a nerd friend and he needs to be reminded he's brilliant c'mon #timeline shmimeline you could at least be penpals #anyway tumblr increasing the maximum number of images per post to thirty was dangerous and this is why #I should have to pare it down further but that's not happening. enjoy!#note that I do image descrips like this because I've found alt text doesn't always work on mobile. maybe only 'cos I say so much though.#also image descrips remain a mortifying experience. now all of tumblr knows I'm not normal about this man.#I didn't know it before either ffs

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