#and i come in and take out like all of their stamp stock | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tiredofthehumanlife · 23 days

Text

Pantyhose or pantywhores?

barbie dolls:James x regulus x Lily x fem reader

word:2.5k ish

summmary: you and your partners go to a dinner and you're hot so they take you home as fast as possible

warnings: regulus likes pantyhose, choking you revive and give, James eats you out and regulus fingers Lily, tights stay on during sex, rushed ending, very little dirty talk, James gets called a whore oops, I think that's it but idk

request: yeah how'd you know are you watching me

Regulus loved pantyhose on you, spefically the ones that he bought you for your birthday. They had flowers swirling around the legs, lillies. James loved tight dresses. He loved when his lovers sat down in them. Their thighs would push the hem up. James was a big lover of thighs. Lily loved cardigans, revealing tops, and dress that hugged your hips. She loved hip dips, often dragging her tongue over the indents.

Today appeared to their lucky day. You four were going to have dinner with Sirius and Remus. Sirius told you to dress like a high end prostute that has gotten married to a rich man, and stopped working. With that helpful statement, you dressed in your stockings, a short and flowing dress, with a pretty cardigan to pull it all together.

When you stepped out to leave, all three of your partners looked up and froze. You noticed their change, suddenly feeling like you should change. Regulus closed his book, setting it on the side table next to him.

“I don’t think Sirius will miss us. I’m sure we could stay home.” Regulus muttered. Lily hummed in agreeance. You felt your shoulders sink even more.

“Is it that bad?” You asked. James sputtered.

“It’s that good.” James said, staring dircetly at your thighs. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Oh do pull yourselves together.” You declared, moving towards the front door. You were pulling you coat off the hook and shrugging it on just as the three of them joined you.

“Im compsed, I just also want to see you naked.” Regulus said, stamping a kiss to your temple.

“And Sirius said they had news to share.” You argued, handing Regulus’ coat to him. Lily joined you at your side, pulling on her own jacket.

“Yes, I agree. I can suck your tits after we have dinner.” Lily smiled at you innocently. James huffed, snatching his jacket from Lily’s hands.

“Damn Sirius and his annocments.” James grumbled. You were finally out the door and headed towards the restraunt in no time.

Dinner seemed to be particularly hard for your lovers. They were staring at you most of the evening. Lily sat across from you, Regulus sat next to her. On the sides you had James, across from Regulus, and Sirius. He was sat across from Remus. Lily was the first to catch on to your antics. She noticed you leaning over the table more often, and squeezing your arms together. Lily understood what you were doing and was trying her hardest to not let you see her staring down your shirt. Not to let you win, she was not going to look at your boobs. That’s just disrespectful.

Regulus was the second to catch on. He first jumped at the feeling of you bumping your foot by the hem of his trousers, making the dishware clink. Sirius looked over at him with an eyebrow raised.

“You alright?” Remus asked. Regulus nodded, making up some lie about seeing a waiter almost drop a plate. You gave him a worried look, playing the act of his innocent partner. Then just as things were settling, you started pushing the hem of his pants up his calf. Regulus looked up from his plate, glaring at you. Lily was still distracted, staring down your top.

James was the last. He assumed it was just that he was particularly horny, not that you were purposely pushing the edge of your dress up. His eyes were trained on your thighs the entire dinner. Lily eventually kicked him, coming out of her boob trance. James startled, looking up at you. You smirked at him and shrugged your shoulder, thats when he conected Regulus’ blush and your displayed thighs.

Dinner was hell for all of them, trying their hardest to pull themselves together and not eyefuck you. Regulus ignored the feeling of you playing footsie with him. Lily was trying her hardest to ignore your cleavage (extremly hard). James was trying to focus on the conversation, not your very biteable thighs. Eventually Sirius and Remus made their annocment, they were getting a new couch, and you were being pushed out the door.

You were home in no time, James putting aside his good Samaritan agenda to speed. Regulus was pulling your coat and cardigan off and throwing them in the general direction of coat rack. You heard a clatter but it left your mind as Regulus pulled you against him. He kissed with a fever you weren’t sure if you’d even seen. You heard Lily’s heels click towards you both. You felt her hand grip the fabric of the back of your dress. You were tugged towards your shared bedroom, taking Regulus along. You heard James’ heavy footfalls following you three.

Lily unzipped the back of your dress as Regulus prodded at your mouth with his tongue. You slipped your arms out of the sleeves, letting the dress pool at your ankles. You pulled back from Regulus as Lily unhooked your bra. She pulled the straps down your arms, before turning you face her. You found her already naked. James was probably the culprit, too egar for his own good. Lily quickly pulled you into a kiss, running her hands along the tiny net stretched over your hips. She pushed her tongue to meet yours as she dropped her hands to your ass, squeezing.

You nipped at her bottom lip. You felt a warm hand press against your back. You pulled away from Lily, wrapping your arms around James’ neck. You pulled him in for a kiss as well. James rested his hands on the back of your thighs before pulling you off the ground. He gently placed you on your back against the mattress. You laughed as smiled against your mouth. Regulus patted James’ shoulder. James moved out of the way so Regulus could reach you. He gently lifted one leg by the ankle. Regulus slipped your shoe off before setting it down by the nightstand. He did the same with your other shoe as Lily moved to sit next to you on the bed. Regulus then spread your legs slowly, stepping between them. He leaned down and gently kissed your lips. Regulus pulled back to stare into your eyes with all the seriousness his face could muster.

“I’ll buy you a new set, ma amour.” You gave him a confused face. Regulus dropped his hands between your legs. He grabbed either side of the fragile fabric before pulling in opposite directions. You heard a loud rip and a chill breeze float over you. You heard Regulus groan before placing a small kiss to your inner thigh, the pantyhose covering the skin. You glanced down to check his handiwork. Regulus had ripped a tear along the seam down the middle of the stockings. James peered over your raised leg. He looked back at you with a raised eyebrow.

“No underwear? Who are you? Naomi Lapaglia?” James asked. Lily leaned over at the mention of no underwear. She hummed and looked back at you. Regulus was too busy kissing at your leg to even notice.

“First of all James, It’s quite embarrassing you know her by name. Secondly, they’d make lines. Thirdly, Regulus likes it more that way.” You said, pointing at Regulus who was now tracing the lines on your calf. James glanced over at Regulus. Regulus side eyed James before making eye contact with him finally.

“You’re such a sheltered Victorian man, Regulus.” James muttered. Regulus glared at James.

“I know you can not be talking Mr. Please-tie-me-up-and-call-me-a-slut.” Regulus whispered against the skin of your knee. James gasped and pointed at Regulus, ready to start a war.

“Boys. Do try to get your priorities straight. You have two naked women on your bed and your more focused on wining an argument. “ Lily said, motioning to both you and herself. James dropped his hand.

“Too right you are, Ma chère.” Regulus said, leaning over you to kiss Lily. Regulus' attention was dragged back to your stockings, the feeling under his fingers pulling him back. He pressed his lips the a stitched flower under your knee. He looked up, making eye contact with you as he dragged a finger down the inside of your thigh. You sighed happily at him. Regulus moved back to you.

“vous êtes si belle, ma amour.” You smiled into his kiss. Regulus' hand dragged up and down the side of your legs, feeling the fabric beneath his fingertips. James patted Regulus' hip.

“Alright, alright, quite hogging.” James said. Regulus pulled back from you and glared at him. He rolled his eyes and stepped away from you, crawling on top the bed. Regulus moved to Lily, meeting her lips. James kneeled down to the floor, settling on his knees. He pulled you closer to the edge of the bed by your hips.

James glanced up at you, meeting your eyes. You nodded. He delved his face down, warming your folds with a wide swip of his tongue. You moaned, missing the feeling of James between your legs. Lily pulled away from Regulus, pressing her lips to your sternum. James moved his tongue with skill, having memorized the shape of your cunt.

You felt Regulus' hand gently stroke your cheek. You looked up at him. You smiled. Lily brought your nipple into her mouth, circling it with her tongue. You groaned at the feeling of two of your partners running their tongue over your body. James pulled your legs over his shoulders, bringing you closer. Regulus kissed your temple, tracing your eyebrow. Lily massaged your other tit just as James circled your clit. You sighed, meeting Regulus' eyes above you.

James focused his attention on your clit as Lily switched nipples. Regulus pulled you into a kiss, swallowing your whines. You pressed your thighs to James' ears. He pushed his tongue into your hole. You nipped Regulus' lip in response. Regulus slid one hand around to your throat. He tightened his hold on the sides. You crossed your ankles behind James' back.

James moaned into you, the vibrations making you roll your eyes back. You looked over her, seeing James staring up at you from between your legs. You threw your head back into Regulus' lap. Regulus released your neck, letting your blood reach your head again. Lily pulled away from your chest, pinching both nipples now. She kissed you before dipping her head now to your neck. Regulus dragged his hand down your sternum and kissed your cheek. Lily leaned over his arm, switching sides of your neck to mark there too.

Regulus placed his hand on Lily's arched back, following the curve of her ass. He pinched her cheek. Lily pulled her head away from your neck. She flicked her hair off her shoulder, glaring at Regulus. Regulus lurched forward and pressed his lips to hers. Lily pulled him closer by the back of his head, meeting his tongue. You watched them closely, focused on their movements against each other. Regulus slid his hand down her back and past her hips, dipping between her legs. You couldn't see the movement of his hands but you could assume by Lily's moans it was good.

Lily sighed and leaned down further, resting on her elbows. She pressed her forehead into the mattress as Regulus kissed her back, continuing his movements between her legs. Over Lily's back you could see James watching them, he had pulled his head up with his jaw slack. You glared at him, jutting your hips up. James moved his eyes from Regulus' hand circling Lily's clit to your face. You raised an eyebrow. James winked at you before moving back between your legs.

You moaned at his tongue. You had been so focused on Lily and Regulus you didn't notice the lack of his warmth. With it returned you remembered how nice his tongue felt. Lily pushed her hips back into Regulus' hand as she let out a whimper. James' eyes rolled back the sight, groaning into you. You pressed your thighs into his ears, dropping your head back.

As Lily's moans grew closer together so did yours. Regulus kissed Lily’s back as he countinued rubbing her clit. James kept his face squeezed tightly between your legs, pushing his tongue into your hole over and over again. You felt James moving in a repetive motion, his nose bumping into your clit. You slapped Regulus’ thigh. He snapped his head at you. You pointed at James before he moved his nose just right, making you moan and squeeze your eyes shut. Regulus looked over the edge of the bed to see what James was doing.

Regulus saw James rutting his clothed cock against the edge of the mattress. Regulus sat bacck, keeping his fingers busy as he lightly pressed a kiss to your cheek. He whispered in your ear what James was doing. You pulled Regulus into a proper kiss. Regulus moved back, kissing on Lily’s neck. You tapped James on his back with your heel. James looked up, his eyes a little glazed.

“Youre such a pathetic slut, we haven’t even touched you and you're humping against the edge of bed like a whore.” You mocked James’ whines. He squeezed his eyes shut as he kept his mouth working. Regulus pulled you into a kiss again. You nipped at his bottom lip before James knocked his nose up into your clit in just the right angle. You dropped your head back, shutting your eyes as he repeated this. Regulus kissed down your exposed throat, leaving a few marks behind. You felt Lily push herself further down into the mattress, her chest pressing into your stomach. Regulus returned his attention to her. You dropped your hand to her nearby neck, squeezing at the sides. Lily let out a strangled squeal, rocking her hips back into Regulus’ hand.

James was quickening his motions, your muscles tightening. You felt your orgasm quickly approaching, tightening your grip on Lily’s neck. You noticed her stretching her fingers out in the sheets. You knocked James in the back with your heel as you tightened your jaw from his unending torture. He plunged his tongue into your hole again before pulling your clit between his lips. You moaned as you finished, James moving quickly to lap at you. You heard Lily orgasm soon after, dropping her forehead onto the mattress. You released her neck and pulled your thighs away from James’ ears.

When his head popped up, his chin was wet, he was grinning like a fool , and the sides of his face had the inprint of your tights. Regulus’ hand came into your veiw of James’ face, slipping his fingers past James’ lips. James stared up into Regulus’ eyes as James swirled his tongue around his fimgertips. Eventually you were all seperating yourselves and dragging each other to the bathroom.

You wrapped up your night sitting on the couch in fresh pajamas, a bowl of ice cream in your lap, and Megamind playing on your tv. Regulus mentioned during your bath that he had never seen it and James was not allowing that. You passed out in Lily’s lap before Megamid met Tighten.

special thanks to @q1mblrrd give them love 🩷

110 notes · View notes

mysticficti0n · 11 months

Note

Hi B can you do something about if the TH boys were to walk-in while she was showering?? I feel it would be really funny

thank you ♥︎

BAHAHAHAHAHAH OMG YESSS

∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞　

Shower intrusion

warnings- swearing and thats about it

words- 990

Tom

Tom was sat round in the living room watching some stupid film on tv until the idea of going for a nice relaxing shower came to his mind, he knew Y/n was up stairs, he could hear her fucking music rattling off the walls so its perfect timing to go in and clean off whatever was on him from the day. He climbed up the stairs and saw his roommates door wide open with the speaker on 100 volume, he shook his head as he grabbed a towel from his dresser and walked to go to the bathroom, his hand twisted the door knob and he walked in and hot steamy air hit his face "TOM GET OUT!" a high pitched yell echoed on the tiled walls "FUCKING HELL Y/N!" he shouted back standing stunned as Y/n reached for the shower curtain to wrap around her body "well don't just fucking stare!" the girl growled seeing Tom's eyes widen with realisation to what he'd done- we all know where his little eyes drifted... "shit I'm sorry I thought you were in your room!" he argued looking to the ceiling trying to not think of her naked in front of him "I'll go now erm... enjoy?" Tom had never moved quicker in his life to leave the bathroom. Why was he such an idiot? Tom found himself sat back down on the sofa flicking through channels before a wet-haired Y/n came and stood before him- fully dressed in her Pj's may I add- he gave her a shy smile as she crossed her arms staring down at the slouched position he was in "bathrooms free now perv"

Bill

"I need to go take this bloody make-up off!" Bill groaned wiping his black eyes and seeing a huge dark smudge draw itself along his hand "ugh!" leaving the group down stairs he went to his room searching for the make-up wipes "come on where are they?" he pulled open every draw he owned swiping his hands over every surface he could reach but nothing Then he thought to check Y/n's room, she always had wipes stocked somewhere, he knocked the door and had no response, Bill opened the door slightly and saw a darkness filled room but a light shone from her bathroom, with a happy sigh he trudged in walking straight to the bathroom not noticing the sound of the taps being twisted off "Y/n I need some- OH FUCK I'M SORRY!" right in front of his eyes was a unsuspecting Y/n hurriedly wrapping her towel around her "why didn't you say something when you were walking in!" she laughed seeing the singer cover his eyes and spin back round "fucking idiot, you can turn around now" slowly Bill turned back to the girl seeing her fully covered with a clip holding her hair back "erm.. I need make-up wipes if you have any" his voice was quieter than before making Y/n chuckle and point to next to her sink "thanks and sorry... I don't know why I didn't thing you'd be in the shower" the boy quickly grabbed the wipes and ran back down stairs to fill in his bandmates about his encounter before wiping off his make-up

Georg

Georg was sweating like shit on a hot day after being outside helping set up the barbecue with Tom who couldn't seem to understand how to screw legs onto the main barbecue drum which oddly enough ended with a shoe mark stamped into it, with heavy steps he came up the stairs taking his shirt off and already unbuckling his belt his free hand pushing the bathroom door open as soon as the smell of vanilla and lavender filled his nose he regretted everything he did "shit sorry sorry!" he chanted walking back out closing his eyes making him close to smacking his head off the door "Jesus Georg you gave me a heart attack!" the girl called with a laugh, while the bassist stood with a thought fighting his way to the front of his mind, he opened the door slightly again and the scent of his shampoo washed over him "are you using my fucking almond shampoo?!" he yelled getting a suspicious 'no' from the girl "fucking hell Y/n out of everyone in this bloody house I didn't think you'd be nicking my shampoo! I wondered why it ran out so fast!" "look it makes your hair so shiny and smooth I was getting jealous!" Georg couldn't stop a laugh from leaving his lips "I'll buy you your own next time but don't use any more!" he warned walking to his own room to write a reminder 'get the shampoo stealer her own shampoo'

Gustav

"god my shoulders hurt so bad" the drummer grumbled rubbing the sore spot on his right side "ah- I need a shower, hot water helps" he spoke to the group sat with him as he turned to leave the room he thought he remembered Y/n saying she was going for a shower but surely she'd be out now? He made his way to the bathroom and pushed the door open and herd the small voice of Y/n singing a tune then "GUSTAV LEAVE!" the boy was brought back as he attempted to run out the room but it turned out to be more of a stumble as he smacked into the wall outside "SORRY Y/N!" he yelled slamming the door shut while slapping himself in the face trying to forget the image on Y/n with suds falling down her body, how long was he looking? "why does nobody in this goddamn house knock doors before they enter?" the girl shouted with a grunt making him laugh and her angriness, he'd make it up to her- maybe buying a door lock? "Gustav I know you're still outside" he snickered walking back down stairs with a red tint across his face "oopsie" he giggled

408 notes · View notes

undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

coming home

summary: home. that’s what he feels like home. in truth, he has done for a stupidly long time. Longer than you care ever to admit.

javier peña x f!reader word count: 2k (this was supposed to be 500 words) content warnings: happy!javi, people saying i love you, tiny mention of spice, but more fluff. this is fluff. this is happiness, this is joy

Laredo nights are warm, and the days are hotter.

The heat all dry, hanging—practically draping itself over all it can touch. And it reminds you of Bogotá.

Splashing water on your face, you let the cool droplets hang from your still-smiling cheeks and cling to your lashes. Pausing before haphazardly drying your face and meeting yourself in the mirror.

The one in the bathroom of a friend of a friend of his. Someone he’s always known from here, in the city that is home for him—the same city which is slowly becoming the same for you.

You adjust the collar on your dress, staring at the person smiling back at you, the one in this mirror and the one in his room. A person you are slowly getting to know, not used to seeing you smile with so much ease—or your cheeks warming by a stare from him here.

Taking one last look, you step out. Your soles click against the tiled floor before you’re welcomed back by the setting sun and the lively yard.

Before here, you’d never really been an outdoor person. Had always preferred being inside, tucked away, nestled under a shitty desk or bedside light with papers or a book. But, here in Laredo, living on a ranch with him—with Javi—it’s different.

Here, you find more comfort on a chair on the deck than you do inside. You enjoy taking stock of the place—spotting him walking up to greet you—and even the feeling of the sun on your skin. More so when his brow furrows, glasses falling down the slope of his nose as his lips slide up into one cheek; outside again, cariño?

It’s another surprising development of being with him. A thing he has also noted—another thing which has changed since the two of you moved into his childhood home.

Once in the yard, you're again greeted by the air, all thick, peppered with BBQ smoke and stuffed with loud music, with background instruments of laughing children and people catching up.

Even if the sun is setting and the party should be simmering down, there are still plenty of people here. All smiling, all too happy to be here under poorly hung fairy lights and drinking once-cold beer.

No one is ready to call it a night.

It’s nice. Normal. Or it should be—and should feel so.

No danger is imminent, no threat, no reason for anxiety to be thrumming through your veins. No reason for you to be on edge, even just a little bit. There’s just him, you and the boats.

The ones you watch when you pretend you’re not, the ones he notices before explaining that he’s happy with his choice. Both see through the other but never bringing it up—never wanting to pick the scab, which is becoming smaller by the day.

You know so because he always follows it with a kiss. A seal, a stamp of believe me. Your finger always slides along his bottom lip, thumb and middle on either side of his chin. They bother me too.

You know neither of you has any more to give, not much left in either of you to be whisked away to another country to fight another battle. Not yet, maybe never. Both have found small ways to slide shards of the other back into place with some comfort that, eventually, the two of you may even heal.

Glancing over at him, you find his eyes already on you. Your hand grabs another beer without even looking, holding his gaze—even through the shades on his face and the ones on yours.

You don’t mind that he’s had them on you since you excused yourself since you vanished in the house and until you stepped back into view. You do the same—watch, admire. Take every available second to stare and drink him in, still only half-believing this is reality and not some fantastic dream.

A pinch-your-forearm moment: because you’re safe; because he’s safe. Because he wanted you here with him.

Sometimes, you hold him too tight. Curl into him so your ear is pressed over his heart, listening to the steady thump which carries you to sleep. If he minds, he never speaks it—sometimes, he holds you back like you’re a raft that’ll stop him from drowning.

Holding the bottle up, you see him shake his head. Short, curt—very distinctively Javi in a sea of people who keep shaking his hand. His stare on you, likely desperately, as you walk back, remaining on you as you slide around tables and smile at people who nod in your direction.

Don’t leave me alone for too long, cariño.

Their unrestrained joy at his arrival, your eyes watching it double as you stepped out from behind his shadow, hand firmly in his. You don’t know them, the gaggle of people waiting at the yard gate, but you know their voices rise octaves at the sight.

And who is this? They’d asked when the two of you rocked up, Chucho’s apparent heads up to them all not enough of an introduction. Esta es mi novia—

Novia.

Sometimes, you feel your ears burn when it registers what he’s called you: girlfriend, his. At times, you almost pinch yourself in disbelief at how lucky you are. That you get him morning, noon and night—that you get a future, one which (at times) had felt like it was slipping through your fingers.

Tipping his shades down his nose, they balance near the tip, letting molten brown smother you as you allow the hem of your dress to swing around your knees. It’s intentional how long you take to get back to him. Let him watch you walk towards him—choosing him—without fear or hesitation that you’ve decided to be here with him.

It happens slowly, but it almost stops your heart—his smile. It broadens on your approach, spreading through his cheeks and eyes, and you could swear everything gets a bit brighter. More saturated. More vibrant and full of life.

Then, it shifts, spotting the mischievous glint spreading like wildfire as he runs his thumb against his bottom lip. Words—ones all sugary and sweet, tainted with filth, that he whispers into your ear as he tells you to be quiet—are heard in your mind. The ones in that voice he whispers late at night when his fingers tease your bundle of nerves, and his hips meet yours.

That’s what makes you smile—right from your lips to your eyes—the fact you can hear him without him speaking a word.

You don’t lower the yellow-toned aviators on your nose, the ones you’d ‘borrowed’. You know he can see the same glint mirrored in yours.

“Hey, handsome.”

He snorts, letting his fingers—all long and calloused—wrap around your wrist delicately before pulling you closer. Doing so until you fold into him, his hands moving you until you’re in his lap.

Then, a different heat slides over you, the scent of him filling your nose and soothing your tense muscles. An effect once only felt with good coffee and a perfect day—now all your days were perfect, or as close to as you could get.

“Fuck, cariño. You in these dresses...”

Taking a sip, the beer drenches your tongue. A taste you’d acquired, grown used to since arriving hours before.

You hum, light and airy. Letting it vibrate through you to him as you lie back into his chest, feeling the firmness of it and his cheek sliding against your neck.

Home.

That’s what he feels like home.

In truth, he has done for a stupidly long time. Longer than you ever care to admit. Because it means admitting you'd been running from this, from him: from happiness.

Instead, you let it coat you, hang itself around your shoulders as if his broad shoulders and long arms are forever there. A comfort, a joy you can barely describe.

You feel him let out a breath, one he allows to dance along the fabric—and across your collarbone, before you turn your head to meet his eyes. Almost seeing your reflection in them, fingers lightly brushing back a strand which has fallen across his forehead.

“You like them?”

His fingers pinch the skirt in his fingers, tugging it, letting it rise up to your knees. “Like them… fuck, cariño. I love them.”

It’s easier to take a sip and return to staring out—to keep indecent thoughts at bay. But he has other ideas. Calloused fingers gliding up the back of your knee, under the hem of your dress. Along the side of your outer thigh, your teeth nip the inside of your cheek, shifting your spine against his chest.

Whispering, you dip your chin—hiding your lips behind your hand, “Javi. If you keep doing that, I’ll begin making my own music.”

He groans, all breathy and low. The most perfect sound—one which dances to your ears, making your hips shift. It’s hard not to feel how hard he is—rocking against him ever so slightly, purposefully, as the arm around your waist tightens.

Stop.

It’s a silent protest. A pleading one. One that says you win, even if you never really wanted to. Because you have never really listened to reason—something you’re sure he appreciates. Something he's grateful for, even if currently he wishes it wasn’t in a yard full of family friends.

Your head turns, sinking into his eyes again—all beautiful brown and soft flecks of gold. “If you want me to stop, you have to stop; otherwise, we’ll have to excuse ourselves.”

“I know.”

Your eyes scan the party. The one littered with faces you don’t know, and faces he knows all too well. They’re all invested in one another, laughing, joking. His Pop’s across the way, talking to another older man. You’re about to tear your eyes back to him, when Chucho glances over, tilting his hat—that signature half-smile on his face. The same one you were given through the blinds—one you were sent in the rearview mirror when you first landed and found out Chucho had cancelled your motel reservation.

I’m staying at the— No, you’re not. Javi… Pop’s orders. And I'm not arguing with him.

Rolling your lips, you smile softer—settling back against Javi, feeling him relax as a song begins playing. One softer than the others, more guitar strings than thumping beats. Your back finds that comfortable space against his chest. The one you so often find when it’s just the two of you, and he refuses to let you sit in a chair beside him.

“I like you being here,” he whispers. “In Texas… with me.”

The tip of your tongue pokes out, swiping across your bottom lip. “Even when I sing awfully into wooden spoons in the kitchen?”

“More so.”

“Shit,” you smirk, sliding sideways on his lap, still curled into him, “You really like me...”

He tightens his arms around your waist, fingers digging in, holding you in place. “I really do, cariño.”

You pick at the label on the bottle, trying to hide your warming skin and a huge grin, resting your head on the space between his shoulder and neck.

“You happy here… with me?”

Swallowing, you purposefully meet his eyes, the ones already studying you, trying to unpick whatever your expression is saying.

“Never been happier, Javi.”

“Okay, cariño,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. “Good.”

You wait for a beat, staring out at the party. At the group of women dancing around their bags, the young couple dancing so woven together it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Slowly, you graze your fingers over his jaw, nails drawing a circle. “I love you too,” you whisper, not turning your head.

For a brief moment, he stills. And just as quickly, he shifts, taking your chin with his fingers as he lifts your eyes to his.

They’ve been swimming there for a while—in both of your eyes. Years of fear of getting close to someone muting them, halting them from escaping. There’s nothing to run from now—

“I love you, cariño.”

You consider a thousand other words, an assortment of paragraphs you think of constantly that he deserves to know.

But, instead, you kiss him. Coat his lips in your adoration, appreciation and love. Pressing those three words over and over as he kisses them back.

Surrounded by heat, sitting under fairy lights as the sun sets, you can't help but think, it's been another perfect day.

an: i needed this as much as everyone else.

javier peña masterlist

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña narcos #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javi pena #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javi peña #javier peña fanfiction

480 notes · View notes

moorishflower · 10 months

Text

A Fridge Full of Jam

Having a bad memory day today and so I wrote it out w/Dream

Sorry fav blorbo you get to experience the Horrors

He is walking back home from the park when he gets the text from Hob.

Cottage pie for din love

Could u pick up 1 large onion + sum garlic on way home? ta

Dream looks at the message. There is a corner market between where he currently stands, stock still on the kerb, and the New Inn, where Hob currently is. He could, quite reasonably, stop there and purchase the items that Hob has requested of him.

Another message comes through as he is contemplating.

Sum tomato paste too pls

I love you!

He finds himself smiling at this last text. Hob has had many, many years to perfect shorthand of all varieties, but he has never once shortened 'I love you.' It is always the full declamatory sentence, complete with full stop or exclamation. There is something heart-rendingly lovely about it.

Dream stops at the corner market on his way back. Hob has furnished him with an identity of his own, now that he is human, complete with debit card, and money to make purchases, and a driver's license that he still hesitates to make use of.

(He once knew how to operate a car in theory, but that, along with billions of years' worth of other knowledge, is one of the things lost to him now that he is human.)

The market is not busy this time of day. Summer has come upon London, blanketing the great city in a smog of humidity and incipient rain. It is the sort of weather to drive most people indoors, where they might at least seek the relief of a fan, but Dream is not bothered. He is cold, almost always, and it is during weather such as this that he is allowed the luxury of short sleeves. During weather like this, he takes long walks in solitude, and goes to the park to feed the birds, and sometimes there are other travelers to accompany him, but more often than not he is alone.

He prefers that, some days. The crush of humanity is not nearly so pressing now that he no longer contains all of its dreams and nightmares within his own head, but it is sometimes, still, overwhelming.

Dream checks his phone. One large onion, garlic, and tomato paste. Is there anything else that they need while he is here? Strawberry jam, perhaps. He eats it on his toast each morning, so they are bound to be almost out. There is a specific garlic-parmesan salad dressing that Hob likes, and which this market happens to carry. He picks up a bottle and puts it in his basket, along with a jar of jam. Do they have crisps at home? He thinks they do, but is it the sort that he likes, or is it the sort that Hob likes? Hob prefers sharp flavours. Tomato. Salt and cider vinegar. Dream enjoys simple fare. He picks up a bag of Walkers 'roast chicken' crisps and studies it, then drops it into the bag.

He moves down the aisle.

The clouds have broken by the time he leaves the market, though not for the better. Rain patters in the gutters, dampens his hair and sticks it to his skull as Dream hurries home, a shopping bag in each hand. The New Inn is not far, but it is far enough that he is wet through when he ascends the steps to its front door, stamping his feet to knock loose any mud or debris that might cling to his boots.

"Welcome to the–oh, hullo, Dream," the hostess says. She is a petite, smart young woman named Anne. Once, he would have known her greatest fantasies. Now Dream knows that she attends university at King's, and that she had Hob for one of her professors last term, and that she is somewhere in her early twenties...and that is all. "Out doing a bit of shopping?"

"Hob is making cottage pie," he tells her. She smiles. Hob's employees – they are not technically his employees, but they all refer to themselves as such – observe his relationship with the Inn's proprietor as though they are a much-beloved television show. It is strange, to be the subject of a story in which his own opinion is entirely unwanted.

"Enjoy," Anne says, and Dream nods at her, and ascends the stairs to the second floor, which Hob has claimed as his own. The front door is unlocked, and so Dream lets himself in.

"That you, love?" he hears, floating from the kitchen. Dream follows the sound of it, stopping in the doorway. Hob is there, standing over the stovetop, a pot of water boiling and the pale, oblong shapes of several peeled potatoes bobbing about within. When he looks up, he smiles. "'Course it is, you never answer right away."

"I will endeavor to do so in future," Dream says. He sets the bags on the table and begins to unpack them, laying the items he purchased in a neat row so that he may put them away with utmost expedience. Hob temporarily disengages from the stovetop to look over his shoulder.

"Jam?" he asks, reaching around Dream's hip in order pick up the jar. "We've already got jam."

Dream peers at it. He uses it so often. Every day. He tries to think of how much had been in the jar when he had taken it out of the fridge that morning, but draws a blank. "But...I eat it every day," he says. His voice, even to his own ears, has the unpleasant texture of a whine. Plaintive. Hob takes him by the hand and leads him to the fridge.

"See?" he says, and there, in the fridge door, is not only one, but two jars of strawberry jam. One is not even opened. "Remember? You bought more a week ago."

He does not remember. It had happened a week ago. Dream stares at the jars. His hands feel very loose; he is suddenly glad that it is Hob who is holding the new (the third) jar, because he thinks if it were him he would have dropped it by now.

"I...forgot," he says. In that moment, in the aisle, it had seemed impossible that they should have enough. He uses it every day. It had not even crossed his mind that he might have already bought some earlier.

"Hey," Hob says. "Come here. It's all right, yeah? We'll find a recipe to use jam. It's fine." He puts the jar down on the counter, and Dream finds himself being drawn into a hug. The kitchen is steam-warm, and Hob smells like raw potatoes and fresh herbs. Dream presses his nose to the curve of Hob's neck and blinks back useless tears.

"I forgot," he says again. Hob runs a soothing palm up and down his spine.

"You know," Hob says, "I read something the NHS published a bit ago...about how depression affects memory? Basically, how prolonged periods of, ah, stress and anxiety can stunt how your brain makes new short term memories?"

Dream tries to tug away, but finds himself held fast. Hob's hand splays flat against the small of his back.

"It's all right," he says. "It is. You were...I mean, my memories of after Robyn died are like Swiss cheese. And you had all that great big Endlessness to rely on before, but now...it makes sense, is all I'm saying. And it's all right."

Dream makes a sound – he is not wholly certain it is a dignified sound, nor good-tempered – and this time does not try to pull away, but buries his face into Hob's clavicle.

"How do you stand it?" he asks. He means the wild swing of moods. He means the instability. He means the being human of it all. But there is no easy answer to any of these questions. The shortest, of course, is 'you just do.'

"Lists help," Hob says. "Alarms. Things like that. And sometimes you just roll with the punches." He sways to the side, hooking his fingers around the jar of strawberry jam and making room for it in the fridge door. "Sometimes you've got three jars of jam."

(Later, when they are eating their cottage pie sans tomato paste, because Dream had remembered he liked roast chicken crisps but not the final thing that Hob had asked of him, he will try to reflect on the wisdom of this. Love, he will think, is an unlocked front door, a sentence with a full stop, and a fridge full of jam.)

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream/hob #dream of the endless/hob gadling #the sandman #retired dream of the endless #my fic

322 notes · View notes

ihavethedreamies · 3 months

Text

Novice | Felix | Easy to Expert (2)

Lee Yongbok (Felix - Stray Kids)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.8k

Pairing: Felix x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Fluff

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Sex Toys, Butt Plugs, Oral (F!Receiving/Anal; M! Receiving), Anal Play, Anal Sex, Unprotected Vaginal Sex (Don't do this, please)

Author's Note: This is a sequel to Easy. I got a comment on Archive requesting a sequel for something that was put off for…another time.

This was just supposed to be a second chapter but it devolved/evolved (depending on who you ask).

-> Part 1 <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

The morning after Felix utterly rocked your world, he had sweetly asked you to be his girlfriend. You agreed, of course, and then he took care of you that day because you could, in fact, not walk. He made you pancakes to eat in bed and he even carried you to the shower. Despite the soreness, you couldn't be more content and you spent most of the day just watching Netflix together. He got several messages when he didn't show back up to their dorm the night before that he then had to deal with. He even had several missed calls from Minho and one from Chan that he had to return. You were still half asleep then and didn't hear the conversations, but the group chat blew up so bad he had to shut his phone sound off. It was also evidently the chat you were not in that they denied existed.

Neither of you wanted him to leave after lunch, but he had stuff to do and a part-time job. When you stopped by the door to see him off, he put his shoes on then turned to you.

"I'll see you later, love." He leaned forward and you welcomed him, hit soft lips capturing yours. You hugged him tight and he laughed at your cuteness when you didn't want to let him go.

"I love you." you whispered and a giant smile broke out on his face and he bumped his forehead to yours.

"I love you, too." And with that he left.

Over the next few weeks you continued to hang out with them all as a group, not yet having another chance to be alone with Felix. On a Thursday evening you got a message from him seeing if you were free the next night. Would this be your first actual date?

"I know it's kind of unconventional…but would you want to go to the arcade?" he asked and replied instantly with a yes. You really didn't care where or what it was if it was with him. Plus, the arcade he was talking about was huge and had so many different things to do past game machines, like an obstacle course, trampolines, and a foam pit. Since he was coming from campus after his morning class, you met him there instead of him picking you up. One thing that was nice about doing college online was you had a more flexible schedule. You rocked on your feet, hands in the pockets of your coat as you waited. You had on a set of pink shorts overalls on over a white turtle neck and white stockings to protect you from the cold. Winter was coming. You decided to wear a short pair of pink Ugg boots that would be easy to take on and off at the arcade.

"(Y/N!)" It was easy to know it was him, even with the giddy tone, his voice was deep. Plus, certain words were still tinted with his accent even after speaking Korean for so long.

"Felix~!" You beamed as he jogged over to you and instantly pulled you into a hug. There was no else around so you eagerly returned it, but pulled back just in case.

"Ready, love?" He smiled sweetly and you nodded. His wavy hair, dyed blonde with a tinge of black at the roots, was tied halfway back and he looked ten times prettier than you could ever hope to be. He opened the door for you and refused to let you pay for your own pass. They stamped your hands to signify you had full access that day and you headed in after checking your coats. Since it was late in the morning on a Thursday, it wasn't very busy, and there weren't any children since they would be at school. It was the perfect time for two adults to goof around like kids. You wanted to go the trampolines first, but those would be tiring, so best left for later. You started with the traditional arcade games, and you kicked Felix's butt at a shooting game. You simply let him do the motorcycle simulator racing game, the way the fake bike moved kind of made you motion sick. He won the basketball tossing game and then you moved to the simulation games. Your favorite was the archery one and you both tied score on that.

"Foam pit?" he asked after you were done and you grinned, both of you running to the next place like children. No one else was there and you both took your shoes off and left them at the worker's station and he lead you up the stairs. There was a rope that you could jump onto and swing on before landing in the pit. It made you a bit nervous because of the height, but after watching him happily do it first, it made you less hesitant.

"Move out of the way!" You motioned to him, rope in hand. Taking a measured breath, you hooked your leg around the rope and kicked off like you were told. You squealed and let go, landing with an oof onto the blocks of foam. The worker even couldn't help but laugh at the two of you. You literally had to swim to get out and he helped pull you out. To take a break you got some snacks, chicken nuggets and soda.

"This is so fun, Felix." You beamed and he smiled around his bite of food.

"I know, love." He reached up and brushed a crumb from your cheek with his thumb and you smiled bashfully. The final stop for you was the trampolines. Once again, there was no one there and so you were given pretty much free reign. Instead of playing with the games that were projected, you just jumped around together. Like one must do, you would sit on the bouncy material, and he would jump near you to launch you in the air. You squealed in delight, and while you couldn't launch him to the same extent, it was still fun. The two of you had been at the arcade nearly four hours and you were out of breath as you put your shoes back on.

"Do you have anything else to do today?" he asked you as you left, a cold wind blasting at you, and you shuffled closer to him. You didn't see, but he smiled and he turned you with his hand on your shoulder so your back was to the wind.

"I don't why?" You looked up and him and his smile fell into a smirk.

"Hm, can we go back to your place?" He stepped closer, his nose nearly touching yours. You forgot you were in public for a second, ready to kiss him, but a kid laughing forced you to step back. It seemed school was out so there was going to be an influx of arcade patrons.

"Sure." You replied to him and you started to head that way. As you walked you noticed there was a thin flap of plastic sticking out of his bag, caught in the zipper.

"Hold on." You stopped him and went to fix it and when he noticed what you were doing, he swung the pack off his shoulder and out of your view.

"Hey!" You playfully glared at him and he shook his head, "It’s a surprise! Don't look." He fixed the plastic himself and you looked at him suspiciously.

"Hm, okay." You let it go and you continued to your place. Once again, he held the door open for you and you waited at the elevator. The door to the side that lead to the stairwell opened and you glanced to see who it was. It was the guy who lived a few doors down, some gym rat that thought he was hot stuff. You rolled your eyes at his strut and Felix smirked. Changbin made it work, he looked good, not over the top. This guy was…gross.

"Hey, unit 304." He strutted over and you didn't even look up from your phone.

"Who's your friend?" He had a flirty tone and you know he thought Felix was a girl. He looked at the guy, annoyed, then spoke. The guy's reaction was hilarious.

"I'm her boyfriend." His deep-ass voice rumbled through you and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

"Oh, uh, sorry bro." He bowed a bit in apology and then scurried away. When you got into the elevator, you both burst out laughing and you continued to giggle even as you plugged your door code in. He helped you take off your coat and you hung them both up with your bag. He kept his with him though.

"Okay, what's the surprise?" You asked and he smirked.

"Later. Come here, love." He put the bag behind him on the couch and you sat down with him. His hand came to your jaw, slightly cold still and you leaned in to let his lips press to yours. Like last time, the kiss got intense fast, both somewhat desperate. You hadn't gotten the chance to really be alone until then, so you only got quick pecks in while the others weren't looking. When Felix's hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, you whined softly and his tongue wiggled its way into your mouth. When you had to pull back to get more air, you scooted closer to him and he smiled. He adjusted his position so he had one leg up on the cushions, facing you.

"Ready for the surprise?" He placed a soft kiss on your jaw, then under your ear, not able to get to your neck because of your turtleneck.

"Yes…" You were a bit hesitant, wondering what the heck he got. When he pulled the plastic shopping bag out of his back pack, you were expecting some kind of candy or food that you liked. No. It seemed these last two weeks he had been thinking about what he found in your nightstand. The butt plug.

"This okay?" he asked, pulling out a few more items. There was some kind of kit to…get clean, then he also had made sure to buy the right size condoms. There was also a cleaner and lube and one other thing you didn't immediately recognize. You picked up the box to look it over. It was long and you turned it over to look at the picture on the front and your eyes widened. You shot him a look and he tried to remain smug, but he was a little nervous.

"A tail?" You shook the box. There was a light pink plug along with either a long striped cat tail or a round fluffy bunny tail. It advertised as well there were more attachments you could get. He struggled to find some words and pointed at the picture on the box.

"I-if you end up…liking it…" He finally got out and you huffed, amused with his flustered state. You hummed, placing the box back down and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Do you want me to go…get ready?" You licked over his ear lobe and he groaned low.

"Yes, please." he said that, but he ended up wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his lap, and kissing you again. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, your hands on his jaw and his hands digging into the flesh of your butt. After pulling back, you smirked and he let you get off his lap. You put the items back into the bag and scurried back into your room. You had a little surprise for him as well. Hating that you only had a plain set of underwear on last time, you compensated for it and went to the lingerie store. At the time, you weren't entirely sure what he would like, but you think the black set would be perfect. First you shuffled into your bathroom, and took your clothes off. Your panties already had a dark, damp spot on them and you huffed. Just looking at the bag for a second, you replayed different over-thought scenarios in your head, and grabbed the cleaning kit. Reading the instructions, it was kind of embarrassing to think about going ahead with it, but it was really exciting as well. You went ahead and did everything you had to and the sensation was…weird to say the least. Made you excited too though, thinking of what Felix would be doing. Before him you never got turned on that fast that easily.

Going to the paper bag holding your new set of underwear, you put it on and had a few issues with the straps and ribbons. The top piece was just some ribbon with some boning that wrapped around each breast but left your nipples on display. A thin silk corset wrapped around your middle, once again with some boning. The panties were crotchless, with thin mesh and you had to tie the ribbons on the side to hold it up. Slowly you pulled on the fish net stockings, not wanting to poke a whole in them with your toes. It was the same mesh as the panties, and had ribbon crossed over and winding up, sewed on. Looking over yourself in the mirror, you hoped he thought you looked as good as you thought you did. The final piece was two ribbons you tied around each wrist and that was a bit difficult on your non-dominant hand, but you managed. Grabbing the bag he had purchased, you went back out to your bed room and laid each one out. Taking the box, you placed it inside your nightstand drawer and instead took out the plug you already had in there. Looking it over better, it was three different size rounds attached by the silicone but only had one vibration setting. Your core clenched at the thought of him using it on you, so did other places. Shuffling to your door, you propped it open and called for him that you were ready. You scurried back to your bed and stood at the end, trying to look innocent as he stepped in.

"Fuck." His voice was quiet but rumbled through the room and he shut the door behind him. You lived alone but it made you feel more secure and private still.

"Did it work?" he asked about the cleaning you assumed and you nodded shyly.

"You look amazing, love." He complimented, stepping forward and looking over every detail of your lingerie intensely.

"The idea is I can leave it on…But if you take it off be careful, it wasn't cheap." You fiddled with one of the ribbons hanging off the corset.

"You look amazing, turn for me." You did as he asked and he smirked when he saw that your panties were barely that, and that there was a hole in the crotch that would allow his cock easy access. Even where he would fill you with the plug was easy to get to.

"Hm, good girl." He hugged you from behind, his teeth nipping at your ear, his hard cock grinding into your butt.

"Lets get ready." Felix laid another kiss on your neck and you went back to the still unopened box and unwrapped the plastic. You watched him undress out of the corner of your eye. He came over to you as you pulled the black silicone plug out of the packaging and looked at the little booklet that came with it. He snatched it from you and the cleaning spray, heading to the bathroom, his underwear tented over his hard on. Luckily the little plug only needed a battery, and there was one included. Thinking he was probably cleaning up, you looked at the condoms and you knew that they ones you had were definitely the wrong size. The lube was specifically for anal, and it seemed it would numb you some, good for a first time thing.

"Battery?" he asked as he came out, now fully naked and your mouth watered.

"Next time." He huffed as you eyed his cock and you sneered playfully. You held out the battery for him and he got it in and hit the button. It buzzed rather aggressively and he smirked and shut it off.

"Hmm. A little later, okay?" Felix suggested and huffed at your eager nod.

"Lay down, love." He sat you down on the edge, and you did as he asked, in much the same position as last time. You were nervous this time as well, but for a different reason. You turned your head to watch him grab the bottle of pink lubrication and you shivered a bit.

"You're okay, love." You tried to calm down, but you squeaked when he made you move your legs into a better position, then kissed your pucker. He laughed at your reaction and your hand came to your mouth, covering it.

"Is that stuff flavored?" you asked as you smelled strawberry when he opened it.

"Yeah." You could hear the smirk on your voice and you shivered from nerves again. You gasped when the cool gel touched you, just a small bit on his finger at first. He smeared it around your hole and you felt a slight tingle, the numbing kicking in.

"Might make my tongue numb," he muttered to himself, feeling the tingle on his finger. He squeezed some more out and told you to breathe as his finger pressed against you, the long thin digit only entering your ass to the first knuckle. He pulled it back out, smirking at the clenching muscle. Smearing some some lube onto his finger, he added it to your skin and you yelped loud when his tongue circled your pucker.

"F-Felix!" You had a feeling that's where it was going, but it was still a very strange sensation. He hummed, the taste was very artificial, but that was okay. His arms wrapped around your legs like before, and he shoved the wet muscle into your ass and you tried to relax and not clench too hard. You whimpered as his tongue fucked into you, licking up the lube he had spread over and in you. As he continued, it became easier to breathe, but your fingers still dug into the sheets. You were a little worried by how aroused you were getting from this. Is this the kind of thing you needed from the start?

"Next time, I'm putting my cock inside you." His tongue left your ass and then licked a stripe through your cunt and sucked hard on your clit.

"F-Felix!" You gasped, your orgasm already rising fast. He really had pulled the seal off last time. The buzz of the toy hit your ears and then the silicone touched your puckered hole. There was obviously more lube spread over it and you had a hard time not clenching too much as he eased the toy in. It felt incredibly strange and new, but scarily good. The flat end of the toy nestled against the crook of your ass as he got it all the way in. He smirked as he saw your cunt walls clenching around nothing. You almost screamed when he shoved two of his fingers into you, the slight numbing from the lube tingling your pussy now. Another hard suck to your clit and you came. You settled down from it faster than the first time, but you were just as out of breath. He wiggled his fingers a bit and you whined, he could feel the little bumps of the toy through the wall of your cunt and even some of the vibrations. He stood and helped pick you up so you could be further up the bed. You were almost afraid to move with the toy in your ass.

"D-do you need a condom?" You wouldn't meet his eye, finger poking the box. You really liked how it felt to get full of his hot cum and you were on the pill…

"Well…they were more for-" He gave you a look and you nodded in realization.

"But next time." He winked and you flinched when the head of his cock met your soaking folds.

"Ready?" He planned on doing it much the same way as last time. Rough seemed to work better for you, and he wanted to see in the future just how far you would like to go. You nodded in response to his question and his fat cock filled you instantly and your back arched. It was so odd, having the vibrating toy in your ass and Felix's cock splitting your pussy open. Even he was a little thrown off. Just like with his fingers, he could feel the nubs of the toy through the wall separating your cunt from your ass, and the vibrations were dull but present. Your walls clenched his cock hard despite you trying to relax, and you were so wet for him.

"Ready?" He asked again and you nodded, fingers already digging into the bedding near your head. Felix pumped his hips deftly, grinding his pelvis into your clit and immediately his pace was relentless. Before he kind of built up, his thrusts were hard but shallower. Not this time. The bed was already shaking from the force, the head of your bed frame banging the wall. Once again glad for living alone, you let the high pitched keens float from your lips. Tears pricked your eyes at the pleasure. He pulled you closer some, sitting more on his knees so your lower back rested over his thighs. This made your hips raised, your shoulders pressed into the bed to steady yourself. His hands held your lower thighs near your knees, and he rolled his hips, the angle letting his dick pummel your back walls. He loved watching your breasts bounce, wrapped with the black silky ribbon. The feeling of the thigh-high stockings against his sides was more enjoyable than he thought it would be. You were gorgeous naked, but like this it was like you were gift-wrapped just for him.

"Felix!" You gasped, back arching harder, head thrown back and he grunted, slowing his thrusts as you clenched around him in your orgasm. He was going back and forth earlier on whether or not he wanted to fuck your ass or not that night, but he decided he would. The way your cunt squeezed him was incredible and he really wanted to know how it compared. As your orgasm died, he pulled his cock out of you.

"Come clean me off, love." He got off the bed and you scrambled to kneel before him at the end of the bed. He grabbed the condom box and he saw you waiting eagerly to swallow his cock, slick and shining with your juices.

"Okay, love." He allowed and you reached to wrap your hand around the base and instantly took the rest of him into your mouth and slightly into your throat.

"Fuck~" He groaned and he was going to have to decide later which hole of yours he preferred. Pulling off of him, his cock was more clean than before, but now covered in saliva. He took a condom from the box, tossing it somewhere on the floor and opened the package. You took it from him, placing it just over the tip and bringing your mouth back to him. He swore again and you slowly let his cock bury in his mouth, the condom sliding over him as you went. When your nose touched his groin, you pulled back and swirled your tongue around for good measure, then pumped your hand over to make sure it was on all the way.

"Turn around." He helped you get up off the floor and you crawled back onto the bed, letting your front half fall to the sheets, ass in the air.

"(Y/N), you're gonna kill me." He huffed and you giggled. Hearing the lube bottle open again, the smell of strawberry wafted as well.

"Breathe." He coached and you did, each of the little nobs popping out of your ass as he removed the toy, shutting it off. He tossed it to the floor, it would be easier to clean the fake hardwood floor than the sheets or rug. You quivered at feeling more empty again, and gasped when he drizzled a big glob of lube straight onto your ass.

"Gotta get you ready love." Felix swirled his finger over your entrance, then pressed forward again, not stopping till his index finger was completely inside. It was a little shorter than the toy actually, but it was definitely different. You whined and tried to stay relaxed as he wiggled it some. Your hole was kind of numb from the lube and tingly from the vibrator. Felix continued to coach you as he added a second and later third finger to prepare you. The longer he did it, the more aroused you got, the odd feeling spiraling into a whole new kind of pleasure.

"Ah~" You whimpered and moaned as he withdrew his fingers. They were tingly as well from the lube and he stroked over his cock with the remaining gel. His hand was a bit sticky after, but he could worry about it later.

"I'm going to start, princess." He informed and you took measured breaths, trying not to flinch when the head of his cock touched your ass. You groaned as he eased in, digging your teeth and nails into your pillow to release tension. If you thought his cock felt big in your cunt, it was a whole new kind of stretch as he filled your ass. Your head swam and you had no idea it could feel so good. Your cunt clenched around nothing, wanting to be filled as well, something you could explore later. He sat inside of you, unmoving for a few minutes, both of you trying to relax.

"Move." You gasped out and he dug his fingers into your hips, thumbs into your butt cheeks. He made a shallow thrust and you both groaned at the feeling. He was much more gentle as he buried his cock deep into your ass than in your pussy. His thrusts were less punishing as well, pulling out about halfway before his hips met yours.

"More, please." You keened and he grunted, picking up the pace but not changing the depth. Your fingers left the sheets, needing something more solid, so they wrapped around the rungs of your head board.

"You like it rough, huh, love?" You moaned in agreement.

"You like my cock in your ass?"

"Yes, fuck!"

"What a slut, just for me though…" He grunted, leaning over you more.

"Ah!" You practically screamed, Felix's hot dick starting to fuck you deep, more grinding than anything.

"(Y/N), love, you're so good for me." He groaned, the rumble like thunder going through him and into you. Your cunt clenched around nothing again, you were getting close.

"Feliiixxx~" You keened and he gave you a husky chuckle.

"Cum, love. Cum for me." And you did. His hands held the head board for support, white knuckling the wood. Your ass was even tighter around him as you fell apart than your pussy, and it knocked him over the edge too, filling the condom. Eventually he wanted to paint your insides white. Your cunt, your ass, your throat… After both of you had calmed, still shaking, he pulled out and you flinched at feeling empty again.

~*~*~

"Ow, fuck!" You hissed as he lowered you into the hot water of the tub. He chuckled and you scowled at him which made him laugh harder. After you settled into a good position, you sighed, the hot water relieving your aches. He sat on the mat by the tub, arms crossed on the lip. He had reclothed his bottom half and helped you out of your lingerie while the tub filled.

"Hm. How was that?" He traced his finger through the water.

"You've ruined me, Felix Lee." You mumbled and his laugh echoed through the bathroom.

"So…I have an idea…" He drifted off and you straightened your head to look at him better.

"What?"

"How would you like to get your pussy and ass filled at the same time, hm?" He suggested and you thought for a sec.

"We would have to figure out how to keep the dildo-"

"Not…not a toy…" He drifted off and your eyes widened in realization.

"Oh."

"If that's not-"

"Who?" you asked and he blinked in shock, then smirked again.

"Who do you want?"

-> I.N. <-

-> Seungmin <-

-> Hyunjin <-

-> Han <-

-> Lee Know <-

-> Changbin <-

-> Bang Chan <-

Master-Master List

Stray Kids Master List

138 notes · View notes

nekassvariigs · 1 year

Text

Love doesn't go unnoticed

Mihawk x reader

Romantic fluff

For a long time you stood by his side as a friend an ally as he called it, due to his nature he wasn't one to proclaim having friends esspecially those who resided in his castle.

With every step you took overlooking the dark gothic palace you left a trace of yourself behind. The roses that you left on bookshelfs, their petals falling with just a simple touch if he ever attempted to move them, he sighed knowing the fragility these plants held and yet he set them down adding fresh water and nurtrients to make them last longer, to see them bloom, their crimson buds to produce a sweet floral scent all over his hallway.

What for did he take after these little things, he liked them yes, but there was no need for them. He often found himself contradicting his own ideals as he looked over your work, the many times he asked you to leave his place to stop decorating it like it was your own, and yet there he was staring at the ink stamped pages of his book unable to read anything, the words blurred no matter how much he tried focusing, rereading the same sentence that kept making zero sense to him.

You smiled tilting the edge of your hat, dirt smearing your brow.

He didn't expect for you to look back, he drowned the though with some wine having been starlted lightly with the way you looked back, the always expectant gaze that never asked for anything, the hard work you put in maintaining his lifestyle as he did nothing but flip through pages and drink his fermented wines.

He cleared his thoat, walking over to the guests room he prepared everything for a bath, setting up a candle on the large wooden holder, some soap on the handrails of the bath, conditioner scrubs.. he arranged it neatley. He walked back down to his cellar grabbing a fine choise of wine, he thought you could appriciate the fruity flavour of this particular choise. He screwed open the cork making sure to clean up the little crumbles that fell beside, he poured a glass setting it beside the candle leaving the water to run, steam scolding through the air it was about time until you came back.

He began chopping some vegetables, potatoes, carrots, you named it he sliced it. He put them to boil along the meat he had steamed before allowing it to soften the roots in the rich broth. Minutes later the air was filled with the scent of pleasant stock, the light linger of pepper and vegetable made its way through the hall.

He tasted it, it surely was one of the dishes he payed close attention to in a while.

He cleaned off his cooking utensils leaving the hot stew as he walked back to his seat trying to resume his pages. He was greeted with a creak in the door your body slipping inside the room slowly.

His eyes were on you already his mouth moving before you could adress your presence. "I want you to join me for dinner." he stated surprising even himself, such words would never come out of him.

Your eyes shot a little wider upon the request, you examined the state of yourself. The unruly clothing along mud stained boots and hands was no way to eat dinner with.

"I would love to, but give me time to clean up first." You spoke up watching the way he looked you up and down.

"I ran you a bath." The silence was heavy, the abashed look on his face the longer you looked back at him with surprise left him a bit uneasy.

Your heart swell up a little at the though of his kindness, he had a knack for keeping guests but felt different. He held no complaints at you, even though he was biting his own tongue the more you looked at him.

Your soft chuckle radiated though the room the tension in the air lessening the moment you saw his shoulders wind down. He was acting like a scared cat.

"Thank you, i'll be back as soon as possible." You slipped back out heading for your room. Mihwak took a drink of his wine, leaving a little red pool at the bottom of the glass he no longer felt like finishing.

He caught himself with frustration lacing his brows , he smoothed them out quickly wondering what's going on with himself.

Why was he so startled, biting his tongue and trying to hide the very way his words affected you. Surely he no longer felt calm his mind preocupied with setting the table lighting a few candles he could hear his own hammering heartbeat.

Just then you were washing yourself clean from the hard work, your entire body smelled of roses all too familiar. Had he taken the petals to create a soap with them you'll never know. Between lazy drags of the sponge over your skin you were throughroughly red in the face upon having walked into this setting.

He had done this only when you were sick and unable to move your aching body, however the more you toyed with the leg of the rather large wine glass the more you smiled to yourself. He was thinking about you.

You finished up, looking pleasantly radiant as you walked forward into the room, the silent warlord seemed to greet you with a small crinkle in his eyes.

You both sat down enjoying the food, the atmospehere colliding between the two of you in a mix of held back emotions and unspoken feelings seemed to crash into itself everytime you looked at eachother.

"The bath was really nice, thank you for thinking of me." you warmly spoke up breaking the man's thoughts.

He had entirely forgotten about that, a light red ghosted his face as he swallowed his food, taking a drink to mask it afterwards.

"Don't be so presumptious." His eyes slowly rose to took at you, the striking dress you wore seemed to match the accents of his current shirt. You continued to shock him.

He could never be honest could he? You sighed a little, your eyes closed as you smiled through with it.

With the meal finished you helped him clean up watching him rise up his sleeves as he began to wash the dishes. You stayed to help offereing to dry them off your mind wandered to an idea.

"Would you care for a dance later?" he was solemn continuing his work as he kept offering you plates and glasses, i guess not, you throught aloud drying the last of them and hoping to leave a bit sooner than expected.

He caught you in your haste feeling a little guilty for making you wait like this, truth be told words couldn't form in his mouth as he took in the idea.

You were about to leave the bitter feeling in your mouth growing he stopped you with a soft answer.

"I didn't mean to make you wait."

You turned around slowly the bitterness had left you the moment you saw him waiting in the middle of the enlightned space before his desk.

He looked stoic as ever hand outreached he waited for you to come up to him and take it.

You walked closer, your hand lightly brushing past his, you could feel how hot he was to the touch despite his cold nature, you felt your entire body respond to him a warm wave washing over you the moment he connected your hand to his slowly putting it over his shoulder.

You could feel the lean muscles covered by his shirt underneath the palm of your hand , his hands slowly moved around your waist gently he held onto you.

You could feel his eyes watching you, as per etiqutte for a dance you should be doing the same and yet it was so hard.

Knowing youd be holding his undivided attention for minutes that seemed to have stopped time itself you mustered up the courage to connect your gaze with his.

It was so intense, the gentle ruffle of your dress swaying, his boots placing light clicks on the floor, his hands moving to invite you for a spin to showcase the dress you had put on.

"You look good." The softness of his voice could never be matched with anyone elses. Your face reddened at the compliment as it was rare for him to ever speak up about your looks. His hands gently moved you closer causing your body to lean closer against his.

You didn't just look good, you looked stunning and he portrayed it in the ways of small stolen glances all over you, the redness in your cheeks the smile you kept biting back, he was begining to see why he kept letting you do what you please.

You finally broke, your smile gazing softly at him your hand leaned experimantally closer on his shoulder a gesture he seemed to not mind as you swayed with him.

The intimacy of this moment could never be written in words, his golden eyes were the only thing you could focus on. The way they softened as you leaned into his touch to finish off the dance in a longing fashion. Your face fell slowly, arms retracting from his shoulders he had feeling this would happen.

He lifted your chin upwards the alarming beat of his heart couldnt even stop him from what hes about to do. The silent longing on your face was enough to give him a push.

His lips connected briefly with yours the fall of your eyes lasted for only a second before he pulled away, the warmth of his touch never seemed to leave your lips as you sighed with a stuttered breath. You reconnected your lips with his kissing lightly over his bottom lip which only left him to stagger back a bit before he caught you in his arms.

His whole body felt static having reassured his feelings for you to be mutual, he waited for you to break the kiss watching as you swiped a finger across your lips.

For the first time you could see a genuine reaction from him, his high cheekbones had turned a little scarlet his eyes a little dreamier his posture a bit more relaxed as you smiled against him.

"You're not so bad yourself." you returned the late compliment brushing your hand softly over the side of his face, his eyes deepened a little as he stole a kiss to your knuckles.

He brought his hand up to yours cupping it against his palm, he guided you towards his desk sitting down by the red chair he gestured for you to share a seat atop him.

The following night was spent in alot of slow, deep and compassionate kisses without as much of a need for anything else.

#onepiece #one piece fanfiction #onepiece x reader #one piece #onepiece dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #one piece fluff #one piece imagines #one piece imagine #one piece headcannons #hawkeye mihawk

995 notes · View notes

fuck-customers · 6 months

Note

some fuckin bitch woman came in 5 minutes before closing, asked three different staff members for a book we didnt have in stock, spent 10 minutes looking for said book on the shelves, and then at 10 minutes past closing time, argued with me because I refused to refund a book she had - said book was obviously read, had a receipt dated from MARCH (our returns policy is 30 days like come the fuck on) and had been WRITTEN IN. Ma'am, shut the fuck your mouth, im not refunding a book you bought 9 months ago, especially when its yellowed, cracked, and has been written in with pen. She even tried to get her kids to write something out so i could "compare the hand writing" to prove it wasnt them who had written in it.

and on top of all that, she produced a loyalty stamp card that we phased out in 2018???? and insisted she could still use it??? bitch take ur shit and get the fuck out of my shop, its 9:20pm and i want to go the fuck home. Fuck.

Posted by admin Rodney.

75 notes · View notes

whositmcwhatsit · 8 months

Text

Chapter 1?

Okay, so technically this is an introduction... taster... of the fic to come? I have been desperately trying to finish this for today, but didn't quite make it, so I'm posting this hoping it'll hold me accountable.

A fall/Halloweeny story Inspired by a brief stop Elvis and co made on their way to the World's Fair in 1962. @thatbanditqueen I apologise for messing with your era Elvis and the naughty, terrible things I plan to do with him later in the fic...

All the love to my coven of wicked sisters of the night @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @ellie-24, @from-memphis-with-love, @peskybedtime, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows

“You have got to be kidding me! What is your problem?!” Cheryl slammed on the brakes as the station wagon in front of her was forced to drop below ten miles an hour because of the Dodge motorhome in front of it. It was the third time it had happened in the past ten minutes and, just like before, both vehicles abruptly started speeding up again soon afterwards. “I’m going to pass ‘em and there’ll be a monkey at the wheel. It's the only explanation!”

The height and size of the motorhome meant that Cheryl couldn’t get a clear look of the road ahead and this had stopped her from trying to go around before, but with time ticking on and so many miles ahead of her, she decided to take a chance. She pulled out into the oncoming lane and stamped her foot on the gas.

It was all going so well, she passed the station wagon and was coming up alongside the motorhome. She had been expecting to see some silver haired, doddery grandpa at the wheel; that would have been the most reasonable explanation for the erratic driving. Instead, with a dark captain’s hat over his dyed black hair, she found Elvis Presley eyeing her curiously as she floored it to try and get ahead of him. And that was when the truck pulled out of a hidden junction from within the tall trees ahead.

Cheryl had ten seconds to choose her fate: splattered face first into the broadside of a pick up or swerve into the ditch at the side of the road and take her chances. Ditch it was. There was a deafening chorus of blaring horns followed by a finale of grinding, crunching metal. The ditch was wider than it looked and the front end of her car dipped before smashing face first into the earth bank and turning sideways.

Ears ringing, Cheryl was glad later that she didn’t have to explain or justify her vanity as she checked her face for injury first. She worked her way down after that and was just discovering that she had managed to survive with only a cut across her knuckle where her flailing hand had caught a knob on the dashboard, when the door was opened above her and, appearing unexpectedly for the second time that day, Elvis Presley peered in.

“I think so?” she called back, wriggling her toes and, she could only blame it on shock, hissing in annoyance at the ladder in her stockings.

“Miss? Miss, are you okay?”

“Good, good,” he murmured, seemingly in relief. “Honey, can you reach my hand? Let’s get you outta there.” More faces appeared around the doorway and Cheryl did not have the time or inclination to worry about the hands gripping her body and pulling her up through the gap and into the damp autumn air.

“Christ, you should be dead!” one of the other men marveled, standing on the near bank of the ditch. Cheryl stared blankly at the dented and torn hood and the shattered windshield of her car, before reality penetrated the high-pitched whistling that filled her brain.

“No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” She wrapped her hands over the top of her head. “I can’t… I need… What am I going to do?! I’ve got a show tomorrow a couple hundred miles from here!”

“You some kind of singer or something?” asked another of the men, his voice more twang than words.

“Or something. I’m- I’m a clairvoyant.”

“Clairvoyant? And you didn’t see this coming?” scoffed a short, round balding man, eagerly looking for approval from his boss.

“I’m a spiritualist, not a fortune teller,” she snapped. “I see spirits of loved ones watching over us, I don’t get tips on horse races and car crashes.”

The captain’s hat slipped slightly askew with the speed at which Elvis turned from the crumpled hood to her. His gaze was deep and it felt like he too was seeing more of her than just her earthly form. Her face heated despite the cold, damp air and the chilling effects of shock.

“We’ll make sure you make your show,” he said, letting his hands drop from just below his hips to help with his balance as he climbed up the side of the ditch. His gait was a little awkward and Cheryl wondered if it had something to do with the tightness of his tailored pants or the height of the heels on his eye-catching shiny shoes, before she focused back on her mess of a car and wanted to cry again.

A crow fluttered down and settled on the roof of her car, cawing judgmentally at her. She scowled at it, but it just impassively ruffled its tail feathers and shouted at her a little louder. She rolled her eyes and turned from it, surveying the little huddle that had formed around Elvis on the bank of the ditch. She noticed now that all the guys around him were wearing black coveralls like they were his own personal squad of mechanics. They each had a fancy ‘EP’ printed on the breast pocket.

“... I mean we’re on a tight schedule, shooting starts in two days and the Colonel-”

“And if we happen to break down on the road and end up a day or two late, ain’t no helpin’ that, you know.” He winked at Cheryl, smiling so much like a mischievous little boy that she found herself mirroring him, her smile only fading when she glanced back at her car.

“Ain’t gonna know what I don’t want him to know,” Elvis interjected, not bothering to hush his voice the way his lackeys were, which Cheryl appreciated from an eavesdropping perspective. “Man, we’ll make it for shooting, don’t worry about it.” He slapped the shorter man on the shoulder, adding over his shoulder:

As she stood watching a couple of Elvis’ guys scramble down into the ditch to retrieve her belongings, the man himself came to her side with his arms folded, looking down his nose like he was supervising.

“What’s your name, honey?”

“Why are you all the way up here?” she asked. “Taking a vacation from all that sunshine and dry air?”

“Cheryl,” she sighed, turning and giving him a rueful smile. “And you’re Elvis.” He stared at her a beat too long and she realized he was trying to get a handle on her, figure out if she was a fraud. “It’s not like I live in a coffin. I know who you are.” He ducked his head as he laughed a little and shrugged. He was very sparkly, she noted, sparkly white teeth, sparkly, twinkly eyes. Yes, she may have hit her head a little in the crash.

“We’re heading up to film on location,” he explained, sticking his hands into his pockets. “At the World’s Fair.”

“Oh. Still, I bet you’d rather be warm in California right now, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say that, honey. Wouldn’t have got to meet a pretty little thing like you now, would I?” His left eyebrow twitched up playfully and there was a hint of a smirk on his lips as he turned away towards the motorhome.

Ignoring the way her stomach churned with excitement, Cheryl reflected that at least her car would have still been intact. She would have to call home as soon as she got to a phone, and get them to wire some cash for repairs. Her mother would be furious, as if it was her fault that Elvis Presley couldn’t drive and some idiot in a truck decided to commit a hit and run.

The air inside the motorhome was warm and kind of musky with so many men crammed in together. The guy who had been fretting about getting to location on time climbed in behind her, settling on her other side, Elvis was obviously behind the wheel to her left.

“We’ll just follow the highway until we hit a town,” Elvis said like he was thinking out loud. “Even a one-horse backwater place’ll have a fella with a tow truck. I know a little about cars and I’m betting your ride looks worse than it is.”

One of the guys in the back murmured something in a low voice that Cheryl didn’t catch, but she didn’t miss the sharp look that Elvis gave the rear view mirror.

“It’ll need to have a Western Union, I don’t have enough money on me to even cover a tow. Not until after my show anyway.”

“Well, honey, don’t worry about that,” he murmured, glancing over his shoulder as he pulled out from the side of the road. “I said I’d get you to your show, didn’t I.”

After a couple of minutes, she asked if a window could be opened as it was a bit stuffy and a skinny man behind her with a wispy mustache informed her that Elvis didn’t like the window open ‘on account of his hair’.

At the same time, Elvis instructed the man to shut up in Pig Latin. Cheryl recognised it because it was how she and her brothers had communicated in front of townies when they were growing up. She was impressed with Elvis’ fluency and the way the curse words flowed so nicely off his tongue.

Elvis rolled down his window as she sat pretending with wide-eyes not to have understood what he had said. There was no real need for the deception, but it was just in her nature and part of her upbringing to build up ammunition and jealously guard secrets and information like a secret agent. You never knew when it would come in handy.

“So, what does your show entail really?” he asked, glancing at her before turning back to the road. “You’re up there on the stage and you… do what exactly…?” He met her eyes briefly. “I ain’t making fun, I’m just curious, honey.”

“Well, it’s probably a lot less interesting than your shows,” she murmured, wiping at the beads of moisture sitting on the surface of her wool coat. “People come to me to make a connection or get reassurance or to find peace, and I try to help them. It’s a fluid thing, there’s no set script so to speak.”

“Oh, but you made plenty of connections at your shows, right, Boss?” chuckled one of the guys behind him.

“The road!” she reminded him nervously, reflexively hitting his thigh. He jerked slightly, tightening his grip on the wheel as he turned back to look through the windshield. Luckily, they were only going about twenty miles an hour at the time.

“Shut up, Charlie,” he murmured perfunctorily, still staring at her, eyes slightly narrowed.

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense to Cheryl.

Cheryl tried to not ask too many questions and distract him, but Elvis still told her about the movie he was making, talked about how security was going to be a pain in the ass because of all the visitors to the fair, but that he thought that it would make the movie look better than if everything was filmed on the lot with a backdrop. He said he always found that distracting when he was watching a movie, especially if the film in the background was repeated over and over. Cheryl did not doubt him since he seemed to get distracted extremely easily.

They had been traveling on the highway for about thirty minutes when a big logging rig headed their way on the other side of the road. Elvis enthusiastically gestured for the driver to sound the horn and Cheryl side-eyed him, but couldn’t help breaking into an indulgent laugh at the glee on his face when a booming honk filled the air.

“Hey, what you laughing at?” His entire face was radiant when he smiled. Cheryl almost felt like she needed sunglasses. “You know, I always dreamed of driving one of ‘em big muth- trucks when I was a little fella.”

“Oh well, at least you had this little sideline to fall back on when that dream didn’t work out.”

He laughed too late and with a touch of incredulity, like he couldn’t believe that she could be funny. “Yeah, it’s my, uh, consolation prize.” He couldn’t let that stand even as a joke and quickly included an addendum. “Naw, I’ve been very lucky, I got more than I ever dreamed.”

“You don’t want to tempt fate, huh,” Cheryl remarked.

“Just don’t wanna seem ungrateful, honey, ‘cause I’m not.”

She frowned at his earnest insistence, but smiled and nodded when he glanced from the windshield to look at her.

Finally, Elvis pulled the motorhome into the parking lot of the Cozy Pines motel, sounding slightly baffled as he mused that he’d never seen a cozy pine tree.

It certainly looked like a motel designed by someone who thought a pine tree was cozy. It was the usual two storey L-shape concrete structure with a leaf strewn concrete rectangle sunk into the middle of the parking lot with a little fence around it that looked like it might have been intended to be a pool.

“Welcome to the Bates Motel,” one of the guys in the back muttered, face pressed up against the window.

“It ain’t so bad,” Elvis remarked gently, seeing the dubious expression on Cheryl’s face. “Honey, you just gotta find yourself a car mechanic and have ‘em send me the bill. Won’t take long and you’ll be on your way.”

“Or else you’ll end up dumped in a swamp.”

Cheryl swallowed as she peered at the squat office building, its window dominated by a flashing neon sign that promised/threatened ‘vacancies’.

“Goddamn it, Marty, shut your damn trap!” Elvis snapped, ripping off one of his leather driving gloves and pitching it behind him at the guy who had spoken.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Cheryl murmured, but only softly, because if he didn’t do that, she would slash his tyres to stop him leaving her.

“Okay, change of plan. Listen up, so here’s what we’re gonna do,” said Elvis, talking fast as he grabbed her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. “Joe here’s gonna get his lazy ass into that office and get us some rooms. And then we’re gonna rustle you up a car and straighten everything out so that you’re on your way in a blink of an eye. Okay, honey?” He snapped his fingers at the dark haired man with wavy black hair on her right, who nodded, but rolled his eyes once he was out of Elvis’ eye line, climbing out of the truck.

It started to rain while Joe was in the manager’s office, and not just flecks but a massive biblical downpour. They all peered through the windshield at it, bemused by how suddenly the clouds had converged.

“Might be better off leaving the car and buying a boat,” Elvis remarked, leaning forward so that his shoulder pressed against hers. Cheryl looked at his lashes, marveling at how long and dark they were. Then she noticed the dark smudge underneath his lower lashes, recognising it as someone who frequently applied make-up and then absently rubbed her eyes. She was growing more and more intrigued by this man.

Joe scuttled across the parking lot with his hand held over his head like he thought this would shelter him from the rain.

“Okay, good news and bad news- Uh, it’s Sunday, so there is no chance of finding a mechanic willing to go out and look at the car until tomorrow. Good news, they have ten rooms available upstairs, and there’s a restaurant just behind the parking lot there that’ll deliver food to the rooms.”

“Well then, let’s get unloaded before we start to attract a crowd,” said the one Elvis had called Charlie.

Cheryl looked around the deserted parking lot dubiously, but scrambled out when Joe proffered his hand. She thought she glimpsed the silhouette of a couple of girls back behind the office building, but they were gone before she fully turned her head.

“You got room 220,” Joe informed Cheryl, barely looking at her as he deposited the key with the wooden room number keyring into her palm. His annoyance was evident, she could feel him almost vibrating with it, along with his anxiety that this stopover would derail their entire schedule.

Room 220 was at the very end of the concrete walkway, next to a room that Elvis and all his sidekicks disappeared into. All in all, Elvis seemed more normal than she would have expected, except for his need to be followed around by a line of identically dressed ducklings of various sizes and shapes.

The room was surprisingly clean-looking, but otherwise much like other places Cheryl had stayed while plying her trade up and down the coast. When she was younger her father used to insist that she stay in boarding houses, places with doilies and nosy old women that set a curfew and forbade all gentlemen callers. No doubt he would have still insisted on this, but he wasn’t in a position to insist on anything anymore. At least not in person.

Cheryl sidestepped quickly from the window as there was a clonk and a barrage of tapping against the glass. After a second, she cautiously hooked back the curtain with finger and frowned at the crow perched on the railing outside. It tilted its head almost condescendingly as she peered out. She huffed a sigh of annoyance and let the curtain fall back into the place.

“Hey, how come your room’s bigger ‘n’ mine?”

Cheryl whirled round and had to bite back from retorting: ‘How come you think you can just walk into my room?’ She forced herself to be more gracious to the man paying for her room and her car repairs. (Even if he was partially responsible for her needing them).

Elvis was standing in the threshold of what she had assumed was a closet opposite the bed. Apparently it was a connecting door between their rooms.

“I’m happy to switch rooms with you if you’d prefer. I don’t mind being cozy.” She stepped closer so she could peer over his shoulder at his room, but she saw no size difference. The only discrepancy seemed to be that she didn’t have half a dozen men turning down her bed, setting out her toiletries and bringing in creature comforts like a record player.

“As cozy as a pine tree. No, I’ll be a gentleman,” he said softly by her ear, his fingers sliding down from her ribs to the hips. His other hand snagged her fingers and lifted them up for inspection, frowning intently at the little nick on her knuckle.

As she opened her mouth to make a joke about how it was clearly the end of her promising career as a piano player, he pressed his soft, pillowy lips to her knuckles and what came out of her mouth was instead a slurred mumble of vowels. She held her breath, gazing up at his dark blue eyes and watching those long, black lashes flutter, before his pout spread into a sunny grin and whatever spell they had been under dissipated like mist.

“You hungry? I am starving!” he announced. He turned back to his room, “Hey, it’s chow time. Where’s Billy?”

After half an hour, there was a knock on Cheryl’s door and one of the guys stood on the covered walkway, his hands behind his back like he was about to ask Mr Bumble for more gruel.

“Y’all can come eat with us, Boss said,” he informed her. There was no question involved. She reminded herself that her room was being paid for and stretched her mouth into a smile.

“I guess the locals have heard about their special visitor,” she said, slipping her feet into her pumps. “All that screaming, I thought someone was being mur-” She stopped as she looked over the railing at the dreary, gray and empty parking lot. “I could have sworn I heard girls outside.”

“Oh, they’ll be here soon enough,” he sighed with inevitability. “They always are.”

To be continued...

If anyone is any good at yelling at people until they ignore their boring real life commitments and do the fun writing stuff, please feel free to shout at me in comments!

#elvis presley #elvis fanfic #hollywood elvis #elvis x oc #elvis fanfiction #whositmcwhatsit #I'm really just missing one crucial part in the middle that totally makes sense of the smut and horror to follow #How does one make sense of smutty horror?

76 notes · View notes

coneyislandbabey · 1 year

Text

i don't need no beast of burden. -> e.roundtree

WARNINGS: excessive consumption of drugs and alcohol, profanities

SYNOPSIS: The push and pull between you and Eddie Roundtree was never-ending. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always came back together. word count: 3,847

NOTES: This is part (4/8) of the beast of burden series! Part 3 can be found here.

Also posting today as part of @djatsappreciationweek day one: fav character! Eddie my first love from the show 🫶

On the road, 1971

You woke up laying on your stomach on the bed in your hotel room, head throbbing and entire body aching so badly that you just want to roll over and die. Last night’s show had not gone well, and you went a lot harder than you usually did at the afterparty to forget about it. The remnants of the night were still visible around the room: a film of white powder clouding the glass surface of the side table, the sheer poncho you wore on stage thrown haphazardly over a lampshade in the corner, Warren knocked out on the floor with his sunglasses still on. You weren’t sure if he had started on the bed and fallen off at some point in the night, or if he’d just fallen asleep on the floor. The way last night had gone, both were equally plausible.

You let out a groan as you pushed yourself up on your forearms, squinting your eyes at the light coming through the window. As you moved into a sitting position, your vision swooped and blurred as if whatever you’d done the night before still hadn’t worn off. Your tank top and jeans were sticking to your skin with sweat, and you felt rumpled and stale. You noticed with chagrin that your boots were still on your feet, gray shoe prints stamped into the white sheets.

“What the fuck,” you muttered, and the vibrations of your vocal chords sent a headache shooting right up your neck and into your skull.

“Shhh,” Warren sounded off from the floor. “Let me die in peace.”

“The maid services won’t enjoy finding your body,” you grumbled, setting about the task of sliding out of bed and standing on your own two feet. This took you several minutes to complete. You stumbled like a newborn deer across the room and to the bathroom, shutting the door and pressing your forehead to the blessedly cool tile.

After rallying yourself, you peeled last night’s clothes off, leaving them in a heap on the floor. You took stock of the bruises on your legs and ribs, all in varying states of healing, none of which you knew the origin of. In the mirror, a woman stared back at you that you didn’t recognize: skin pallid, lips tinged an unhealthy blue, deep rings depressing the skin beneath the eyes, hair an untameable rat’s nest. You wished you could pretend you didn’t know when you changed from you into this woman, but you could pinpoint the very night.

The fight. Eddie storming out. The two of you hadn’t spoken in the weeks since. Not even a single word. It was funny, you thought, how little the two of you actually needed to interact directly in order to complete your jobs. Not that you had been doing a great job of that, either. The chemistry that had existed between you on stage was gone; you avoided each other like two repelling poles. You tried your best, and technically you were all playing the songs correctly, but something was off. Well, that was the understatement of the year.

You showered, scrubbing at your body until the skin was agitated and raw, doing your best to rectify the hair situation and wrestle this new, unfamiliar woman into something that resembled you at least somewhat. When you emerged from the bathroom, shower steam curling out and around you, Warren conscious and on two feet, holding two cups of black coffee.

“We gotta be on the bus in fifteen,” he said, offering a cup to you. You nodded, taking it gratefully.

“Alright, I’ll see you down there,” you agreed. Warren nodded and left. You sipped the coffee and closed your eyes, willing the caffeine to work you into a more functional person. Haltingly, you dressed yourself and grabbed all of your things from around the room, stuffing them into your bag and making your way down to the bus. You were touring the New York area opening for Rick Yates for a little while, which meant that when you got on the bus that morning, people were still drugged out of their minds and behaving like the afterparty was still in full swing. You collapsed into a seat near the front, the energy leached from your bones. What you needed right now was absolute quiet and a week of hibernation in a hotel room that nobody knew you were in, but. Well. You can’t always get what you want.

The doors opened again, and you watched as Eddie climbed the stairs, walking past you to sit somewhere near the back without so much of an acknowledgement that you were alive. He didn’t look much better than you felt, tousled and sleep-deprived and very clearly still wearing last night’s clothes. A sour taste invaded your mouth, and you turned away, looking through the windshield instead.

Briefly, you thought of standing up and dropping into the seat directly across from him, demanding his attention, demanding he acknowledge your existence. If only he looked at you, you thought, there would be a way for you to fix things. And maybe that was true, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take the first step. You hated the way that Eddie was behaving, sad and scorned, as though he wasn’t the one who walked away from you. As if he wasn’t the one who had decided your friendship was worth less than his wounded pride.

The gig that night goes a little better than the night before, but there’s still something glaringly missing. You snorted a line of coke backstage as soon as it was over, closing your eyes and willing every emotion to drop away into oblivion as quickly as possible.

“Hey, some chicks brought edibles, they said they’re crazy strong,” Warren said, suddenly at your side, his hand on your shoulder. “Ready to go back to the hotel?”

You nodded, the movement slightly off beat as you wiped your nose. “Yeah, let’s get the fuck outta here.”

You followed Warren and the small group of people he was inviting back to the afterparty to the hotel and up to your floor. The hall was dim, made murkier by your inebriated state, and you focused on Warren’s curly head in front of you, on the brightly colored dress of the girl with the edibles who was standing snugly at his side.

Just as you reached Warren’s room, noise and movement from a little further up the hall caught your attention, and you looked up in time to see Eddie backed up against his door, a girl with long blonde hair pushed up against his front. Her hands were fisted in his shirt, and one of Eddie’s was slipped into the back pocket of her jeans, the other fumbling for the doorknob. She disconnected her lips from his for a moment to say something, and they both laughed. He got the door open, and for just the most fleeting second, looked up and locked eyes with yours. You tried to read anything on his face, in his eyes, but he had shuttered you out well before this.

The pair fell into Eddie’s room, the blonde kicking the door closed with her foot. As you entered Warren’s room, you felt your senses sharpen. There was a pain in your chest alternating from dull to sharp and back again, and you kept running your hand across it, as though you would find a shard of glass or some other offending object lodged there. You were angry, you realized, even if deeper you were hurt. You zeroed in on the feeling; all you wanted to do was march across the hall and bang your fist on Eddie’s door until he opened it, you wanted to ruin his night, scream at him until you lost your voice, shout until he understood, because clearly he understood nothing. Instead, you grabbed two of the laced cookies the girl had brought, eating them one after another. Some guy was sitting on the bed and offered you another bump of coke, and you happily obliged.

It was shortly after that, that the night began to slip away in an unrememberable blur. You took whatever was offered to you–which was a lot– not much caring what it was, to the point that even Warren, though he was pretty far gone himself, started to worry about you, intercepting drugs and booze before they could make it down your throat or up your nose.

You woke up in the morning miraculously in your own room, feeling worse than you had the morning before. You stared up at the ceiling through bleary eyes, willing the intense pain in your head to ease enough to allow you to sit up. Vaguely, you registered that you were naked and laying on top of the sheet; there was someone sleeping next to you, but your fractured mind couldn’t call to memory who it could possibly be. You wished you had some adderall or something to help you get out of bed, but you knew in the long run it was only going to make your day worse.

Slowly, you roused yourself into a sitting position, clutching your head and grimacing as more aches and pains made themselves known to you on the journey. Your nose itched, and when you took your hand away after scratching it, there were flakes of dried blood on your fingers. You vaguely recognized the guy in bed next to you as the one who first offered you coke last night. You had no recollection of talking to him after that, let alone bringing him back to your room or having sex with him.

Fuck, you thought. All at once, it hit you that this… thing, this bender you had been on since your fight with Eddie those weeks ago, had become something too big, uncontrollable. Your body was crumbling under the beating you were issuing it, and you knew it wasn’t plausible to keep up the way you were for much longer. And yet, when you remembered Eddie stumbling into his room last night, that blonde attached to him like a sucker fish, you wanted to vomit, you wanted to seek out another bump of coke or anything else you could get your hands on in order to erase the images from your mind.

Eddie woke up in his hotel room, a hangover headache pressing behind his eyes and a girl he didn’t know the name of wrapped around his torso. The feeling of dread he’d been waking up with every morning had, by this point, given way to a peculiar emptiness that he was sure meant nothing good for him. Slowly, he tried to extract himself from beneath the woman, but she stirred, stretching and lifting her head from his chest.

“Morning,” she said, yawning again.

Eddie sent an awkward smile her way. “Morning. Listen, uh, I have to get my stuff together and get on the tour bus in a minute, so…”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, nodding once she finally caught onto his meaning. “I’m sure my girls are wondering where I disappeared to last night, so I better get home.”

With that, she stood from the bed and dressed quickly, fixing her hair as best she could in the mirror before bidding him goodbye and slipping out into the hall. Once the door closed behind her, he flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wondered what you were doing at the minute, where you were, whether you were still asleep or maybe staring up at the ceiling of your own room too, and then quickly tried to banish you from his mind. Any thought of you smarted like a sore tooth you can’t help prodding.

And yet.

Ever since the fight, he’d been trying to pretend you weren’t there, because interacting with you was just too hard. Every time he looked at you he remembered that kiss, remembered how he’d felt like maybe he was finally, finally getting to have you in his life in the way he’d dreamed of for years, and then how you’d ripped the notion from him within seconds. He tried to understand where you were coming from that night. In fact, he thought about your words every day, turning them over in new ways in his mind. He came to the conclusion that he did get why you felt nothing could happen, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Eventually, it felt like his window to talk about these feelings with you had closed. He saw how his ignoring you made you angrier and more upset by the day, the chasm between you growing ever wider, and felt helpless to actually do anything to fix it. Each day he just felt more miserable, wallowing as he did in his own self-pity and heartbreak. He started bringing groupies back to his room every night in an attempt to forget you and try to move on, but he only felt sick every morning after.

What made him feel the worst, though, was what he could tell was happening to you even from the rare glimpses he got of you these days. He saw the bruises, the grayish pallor your skin had taken on, the sunken skin under your eyes. The fog, the confusion, how you always seemed to be just adjacent to whatever was going on, but not exactly rooted in reality. You were strung out. You were partying too hard. You were losing your grip, and he knew it was because of him. He was a coward that couldn’t put his own heartbreak and misery aside in order to save you from the hole you were digging for yourself, and it was killing him.

As he got dressed and gathered up his things to leave, he hoped that when he saw you on the tour bus, you would look better. But he knew that wouldn’t be the case. He hoped it every day, and it never was. The sick feeling was always with him now, and he didn’t know if it was caused more by the actions he did take, or the ones he didn’t.

Los Angeles, 1972

Los Angeles was going to be it for the band, you could feel it. Rock and roll was happening right there under your nose, everywhere, from the clubs and the bars to the studios. It was happening right there, and you were in it. Finally.

Los Angeles, unfortunately, was not going to be good for you. As Warren pointed out on your first night in the city, after you all decided to fuck it and take Rod’s advice to move permanently across the country, it was way easier to score drugs in Los Angeles than anywhere else you’d been. And that means anything. And the way you’d been running, you knew that just simply couldn’t bode well. You wanted to regain control, to get back to normal, but it just seemed impossibly out of reach as long as everything else stayed the same.

You were doing better, all told. There were some days where you did no drugs at all, days where you threw yourself into practicing your bass parts until your fingers bled. There were other ways to forget, you were learning. You were learning, too, how to cope with the situation with Eddie better. The loss of the friendship was still sharp, like gravel in your shoes or paper cuts on every finger tip, but you were learning how to not let it disable you so alarmingly anymore. But that fight was long from over and you didn’t see an end in sight. Really, you were afraid that something might happen to make you lose the sparse control you did have, and that being in L.A. would allow you to go off the deep end further than ever before.

At the end of your first week in Los Angeles, once the house was fully settled, you woke from a nap to a knock on your bedroom door frame. When you opened your eyes, Camila, Karen, and Warren were crowded in the doorway, the expressions on their faces almost grim.

“Be down in the living room in five minutes,” Karen said, and with that, they all disappeared down the hall. You sat up immediately, replaying their faces in your mind and wondering what could have possibly happened to have them all looking like that.

When you got down to the living room, you saw the three of them standing in the middle of the carpet, looking like they were having some kind of conference amongst themselves. And then you saw Eddie, sitting on the couch looking flighty, and clearly also not knowing what was going on. You froze in the doorway, contemplating if you should just get the fuck out of the house to avoid whatever was happening, and knowing that even if you managed to escape for the moment, you couldn’t escape forever.

“You. Sit,” Karen said sharply, pointing from you to the couch. The tone of her voice left no room for argument, so you obeyed, sitting as far from Eddie as you could manage while still being on the same piece of furniture.

“Are you gonna tell me what this is about?” you asked once you were sat, the three of them standing there and looking between you and Eddie like they were sizing you up.

“You really don’t know?” Warren asked, incredulous.

“No, I really don’t know what the impromptu living room conference is about,” you responded, shocked by the undertones of anger coming from him. You hadn’t seen Warren be actually angry about something in, well, years.

Camila stepped forward, arms crossed over her chest and that chastising look on her face that made you feel like you were disappointing your mother. “Look, none of us know what happened between the two of you, but it has gone on long enough.”

Turning to address only you, she said, “If you keep on the way you have been, you’re going to end up dead.” She wheeled on Eddie then, saying, “and you, I’ve never seen someone more clearly miserable in my life. All of us are worried about what you might do next, and that goes for both of you.”

“You’re scaring me, man,” Warren said, looking at you. Your heart pinched when you saw that fear in his eyes right then. “Some nights it’s like you’re not even there.”

“You’re gonna sit here and talk out whatever the fuck happened,” Karen demanded. “And we’re all gonna give you some space to do it.”

With one last mom-esque look, Camila turned and left the room, the other two following behind her. You sat looking at your lap for a moment, contemplating your options. You were angry that they’d tricked you into doing this today, but more than that, you were ashamed that they could see the depth of your problems and that it scared them. Perhaps you should thank them, for making you take the step you could never make yourself take.

When you looked up, Eddie was already looking at you. The eye contact shot right through you, so strange after so much time of pretending each other doesn’t exist. You looked at him, trying and trying to find words, but they evaded you completely. What was there to say, after everything? So much. Not enough.

“(y/n), I…” Eddie started, his voice rough. He swallowed thickly, started again. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry for the way I reacted back in New York. I’m more fucking sorry that I haven’t been there for you when you needed me. Watching you do this to yourself is…”

You closed your eyes, trying to ward off the tears that were already threatening. It felt so good to have him talking to you again that you almost weren’t able to focus on the actual words he was saying. You tilted your head back in yet another effort to keep the tears at bay, a water laugh escaping you.

“You have every right to your feelings,” you said, once you were sure that you weren’t about to burst into hysterics. “I should have been– I shouldn’t have let myself lean into that kiss when I knew that’s all it could be, and I’m sorry.”

Eddie shook his head, as if physically deflecting your words. He shifted forward, a little bit closer to you on the couch but just barely, like he was afraid to come too close. “None of that matters! I’ve been selfish and a coward for getting stuck on that and doing nothing to– to–”

You leaned forward, resting a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder. It hurt to see how worked up he was getting over the situation, and you wondered exactly what kind of hell it was for him to watch you these last few months while you tortured each other. “You’re not responsible for my actions, Eddie. You’re not responsible for how I reacted to what happened, just like I’m not responsible for how you did. It just… happened the way it did.”

“I regret that it happened the way it did,” he insisted. There were tears pricking the corners of his eyes when he looked at you. “I’ve missed you so fucking much. Feels like one of my arms was chopped off. I can’t think, I can’t play right, I can’t sleep. All I can do is just miss you.”

You laughed again, a sound of relief, a sound of something thawing, something mending. “I missed you, too, Ed. More than you can know. More than I could handle, which is why, well, everything.”

“I want you back in my life, (y/n). You’re my best friend, and this has been hell. I understand if you don’t want that, but, god, I’m ready to get on my knees and beg.”

“That’s not necessary,” you assured him with a smile. “You’re my best friend and you always will be. Not even something like this could change that, okay? Let’s just start working on getting past it, yeah?”

The grin Eddie offered you was brilliant. “Good. That sounds good.”

That night, you were playing a show at the Troubadour. For the first time in months, you were completely sober before a show, and you felt good. Not just because of that, but because you were sure that, now that you and Eddie were on the mend, you would sound better on that stage than you had in months.

It ended up being the best show you had played in months. You and Eddie were in sync again, playing near each other, to each other. Everybody else seemed a little shocked that their intervention worked but nonetheless entirely pleased, playing more enthusiastically than ever. It was so good, in fact, that it caught the attention of Teddy motherfucking Price. So good that it got you a record contract.

Things were finally looking up. Way fucking up.

tag list: @eonnyx @celestialstar111 @whataloadofmalarkey @sapphiclm @spidermanenthusist @mannstarkey @luvrgirl555 @toyourloves @thefemininemystiquee @how2besalty @vyctorya @neptunes-curse @littlehoneyfreak @itsjustmikii

#daisy jones and the six #djats #eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader #warren rhodes #warren rojas #daisy jones #karen karen #karen sirko #camila dunne #graham dunne #billy dunne #julia dunne #teddy price

179 notes · View notes

cerona10 · 11 months

Note

piarles for 19 (kiss prompts)!!🥰

hiiiiii! thank you for the prompt, i hope you enjoy 😘

piarles + 19 (for luck)

---

“Kiss me.”

Pierre nearly drops his water bottle.

For a moment, Pierre thinks that he misheard Charles (and the conflicting feelings that roil in his gut at that thought is not something he’s ready to deal with), but when he looks over at his friend and sees the determination in his eyes, Pierre knows for sure that he heard correctly.

They were walking back to the paddock after the driver’s parade, still in the midst of a huge crowd, when Charles asked that question. Pierre doesn’t think that anyone heard them, but he’s not about to take any chances. He pulls Charles to the nearest porta-potty, squeezes them both in, and locks the door behind him.

He turns back to Charles, who still has that same firm, resolute on his face, and asks flatly, “What.”

“Kiss me,” Charles repeats, as if that’s supposed to answer everything.

Except it does, especially when it takes Pierre back to the days of when they were no longer boys but not quite men yet, to when Charles made much the same request as he does now. Charles had been anxious about kissing a girl he liked, mostly because of his inexperience, and asked Pierre to show him the ropes. Pierre had agreed to it then, and with sinking feeling he realizes that he’s probably going to agree to it again now.

But he’s not as young and foolish as he used to be. He’s older certainly, and perhaps not all that much wiser, but he knows well enough to not rush headlong into this, so instead he asks, “Why?”

That simple question is enough to make Charles falter. His determined gaze breaks and he scratches the back of his neck.

“For luck,” Charles mumbles.

Pierre keeps silent, still staring blankly at his friend, so Charles presses on. “Charlotte used to kiss me good luck before races, but she’s not here anymore so…”

So you expect me to replace her? Pierre stamps down the idea before he could even entertain the thought of voicing it. All Charles is looking for here is a good luck kiss, not a proper replacement for Charlotte, he wouldn’t even be looking at Pierre for that.

A part of Pierre wonders why now, Charles and Charlotte had broken up at the end of last year and they were already a handful of races into the season, but then it comes to him in a flash. They’re in Monaco. Here, of all places, Charles needs luck more than ever.

For someone who claims that he isn’t particularly religious, Charles puts a lot of stock in his own personal superstitions, even if he would never admit it. Pierre gets it though, you need to put your faith in something when you’re hurtling forward at speeds not meant for the common man.

For a moment, Pierre considers declining. They have a good thing going on between them now, and one kiss could ruin all of that even if Charles doesn’t realize it. But something about how anxious Charles looks now, how he’s on the verge of taking his words back, how it’s Monaco of all places compels Pierre before he can even stop himself.

“Okay.”

Charles’ brows rises to his hairline. “Okay?”

Pierre nods. “Okay.”

It’s not much of a kiss. It’s a quick peck more than anything, but it’s enough to send Pierre hurtling back to the days when things were much simpler between, when they were just two boys chasing the same dream, when Pierre could love Charles as freely as he wants to before he realized the true depths of what that means. They’re older now, and they’ve faced their fair share of trials and tribulations that have changed them irrevocably, but Charles still tastes the same as he did all those years ago.

“Good luck,” Pierre whispers after they break apart.

“Thank you,” Charles replies, and exits the porta-potty.

Pierre waits for a minute or two before he leaves on his own. He has a race to get ready for.

Charles stands at the top podium of Monaco for the first time in his career.

Pierre’s heart clenches at the sight, out of pride, out of love, out of enough melancholy to make him look away. He can still taste Charles’ lips on his own.

They don’t talk about it afterwards.

They celebrated, they partied, they got drunk, and then they go their separate ways to prepare for the next race. They text and call each other as usual, but the kiss was never brought up.

Pierre thinks it’s for the best. He’s not sure what Charles thinks of it, but Pierre isn’t ready to confront what that kiss meant to him. Perhaps it’s for the best that they both pretend it never happened and move on as normal. Charles is a serial monogamist, he’ll find another girlfriend soon who can give him his good luck kisses.

But on the day of the next race, Charles pulls him into a secluded spot behind the hospitalities and says, “Kiss me again.”

kiss prompts

#i actually really like this concept i might explore it more someday as a full fic #anyway sorry if this is angstier than what you have in mind afsdfdagadwd #1016 #10 x 16 #piarles #f1 rpf #my writing

72 notes · View notes

nanomooselet · 5 months

Text

Episode Seven: Wolfwood

It's a lovely evening in No Man's Land, and you are a horrible cultist.

The more I think about the idea that Legato wasn't ordered to do this, the more sense it makes to me. Let's do a count of assets this craziness puts into peril. We have the Punisher, highly chemically compatible and on an assignment already, who really doesn't need to be under more stress. We have the Doublefang, who's even better than the Punisher since he heals without the drugs, and through him Wolfwood learns that the Eye of Michael can't be trusted to keep its word.

We have the Plant aboard the steamer, as Zazie points out, and I'm not sure Legato is as concerned about it as he claims to be. We have the steamer itself, a relic of the spacefaring age with plenty of still-functional technology on board even if the humans can't do much with it. (And isn't that interesting? They seem to have just stuck a steam engine in there and closed off the rest. Cool worldbuilding details.) It travels to and from July - I suspect it carries at least some cargo and personnel for the cult. Speaking of, we have Hopeland Orphanage and its stock of potential subjects, which we know for a fact the Eye has its stamp on.

Finally we have Vash, who's one of the cult's figures of worship. He's the only living thing that Legato's "beautiful angel" truly cares about. Even if Legato's plan is a success, is achieving Wolfwood's perfect loyalty worth losing any one of the rest, let alone Vash? I really have to wonder how Legato planned to explain any of this.

Of course, he does explain, doesn't he? You must give up on your little brother and face reality. I must take everything you love from you so that you can fulfil your noble purpose as a weapon. What we're seeing is Legato's first demonstration of his character to come, building sadistic traps to force painful choices upon his target, but also a glimpse of what awaits Vash at the end of his journey. Where could Legato have learned his definition of love? And let's not forget that he refers to his feelings as love in the first place.

He's such a drama queen. Can't wait to see him ruining everything next season.

So much in this two-parter is amazing, but I think a somewhat underrated moment is Vash preventing Wolfwood from killing Livio with that insane trick shot. My boy frees Wolfwood from a horrific mental trap because no one should have to choose between the things that they love, the things that keep them alive. Best of boys. Precious darling. He wants so, so badly for there to be a way out for him.

I'm hesitant to discuss Livio that much, because we, uh, really don't learn that much about him? We see the sad little boy in Nick's memories - which I have reason to suspect are not entirely the objective truth - and we have the stumbling puppet who boards the steamer. He isn't in a position to make his thoughts known, except once, and, well… it’s a decisive demonstration. But one that precludes any further participation. I have read the manga, yes, and I know what he's like there, but my feeling is that's more what he'll become than what he is now. There seems to be one fairly significant change, however: Razlo, and Livio's attitude toward him.

Razlo's there. I'm sure he's there. But is he always there in the same way? Is Livio so out of it because he's under the mask's control, or is it Razlo the mask keeps supressed? And when it becomes damaged, why does what Livio see in the mirror so horrify him? Does Livio even know who else is in his mind?

(We get our first glimpse of Chapel, too.)

(Somehow I feel like I'm not going to be a fan of this guy.)

They didn't save Livio, but he got to make a choice. Even if it was a choice they wish he hadn't made.

Speaking of choices!

Meryl and Roberto continue to be the show's main source of comedy - the dub work for the Bad Lads Gang is so funny. Poor Meryl's teary little face when they bring up the Worms. Them being all excited about getting on the cover of an outlaw magazine, whatever that is. Roberto just being all welp, this might as well happen when he learns the faltering steamer has a space age cannon stuck to the top and that still works.

Not enough booze in the world.

And then Meryl makes a choice. Roberto's right, on some level - they're not soldiers. They're not fighters. By any sane standard this is not their fucking job. But there is no one else who can do it. Regardless of ability, there's simply no one else who's been given the choice between standing there, taking the risk, or fleeing with the knowledge you could have done something and didn't. So Meryl makes her stand... and I realised that Roberto does too, because he faces the same choice. They all do! There's something they all want to protect more than anything else. Such different people with such vastly different skills and life experiences all have something in common, and they work together to realise their purpose. It's the second time in the series this has happened and disaster's been averted with their efforts. I just!

Of course then things get even crazier and we move into what might be among my favourite action sequences in the entire series? It's admittedly hard to narrow it down. This has been extensively dissected elsewhere, but it really might have the most beautiful cinematography (especially in the Plant room - ethereal, and then the hard cut comparison to the steel and scorching flesh of Wolfwood's efforts and I'm reduced to helpless arm-waving). But I think there's one detail I want to emphasise?

Cool watery blue and burning fiery orange-red, yes. Gorgeous contrast. But both also have just a dash of the opposing colours. The two aren't so far apart, each holding part of the other - fundamentally connected, in spite of all the ways they're different.

#trigun stampede #tristampparty #trigun meta #meta: tristampparty episodes #i know i seem quiet about vash and it's because whenever i think about him my brain turns to mush #best boy. perfect boy. why must he suffer #i will give him every donut #there are a lot of reasons i'm angry with knives #but we do sort of agree that vash needs to take better care of himself #knives's methods are just. EXTREMELY COUNTERPRODUCTIVE

25 notes · View notes

seabeck · 1 year

Text

Trout fishing for beginners on a budget!

Do you ever look at salmon fillets in the supermarket and water at the mouth but find the price far too high? Well this guide is for you! I tried to keep this guide fairly short and to the point so if you need more info, feel free to ask.

Reasons to fish for trout:

Trout taste quite similar to salmon, a fish that's typically unaffordable expensive even here in the PNW (I find trout to be better because they're much more mild and don't overcook as easily, ymmv)

They can be caught without a boat and you don't need an expensive set up.

Fishing licenses fund conservation!

It's fun and allows you to see where your dinner is coming from, from start to finish.

Before you start: Get your fishing license. You can purchase these at Walmart in the sporting good section, stores like Cabellas, online, and many other places. Some states have separate saltwater and freshwater licenses (you want freshwater), others may require a separate stamp to keep trout in some areas. Once you have your license, find a place you can fish. Check if it’s been stocked, when, what size the fish were, and how many. Bigger fish and more recent is always better. Regulations can very a lot from body of water to body of water and state to state. Some lakes may be catch and release only, no barbed hooks, etc and it is on you to know. There are also disabled only lakes (with wheelchair friendly docks). Your fish and wildlife department will have the info online. Some states, like WA, even have interactive map apps and you can always email or call them as well.

Gear on a budget: Rods and reels are expensive new, even low end ones. Check out garage sales, thrift shops, outlet malls, Craigslist, etc. You can often find a good rod and reel combo for cheap. Check to make sure all the parts are in order, things that spin will spin and things that don’t, don’t. Minor wear and tear can often be repaired with a dab of superglue. When buying second hand spools of line, make sure time and the sun hasn’t made it brittle, give it a test tug to see if it breaks. You’re less likely to find artificial bait and hooks used but luckily those are fairly cheap even new, and sometimes you get lucky.

Rod: 5-7′, rated for no more than 10lbs is perfect. It should be flexible to allow it to cast far and not snap when you get a fish on. Ideally your rod should split into two pieces for ease of storage.

Reel: We’re going to be talking about spinning reels and spinning reels only. You want a lighter weight one where the line comes off smoothly. Make sure everything spins as it should and doesn’t make noise (some older styled ones have an intentional clicking sound that will drive you up a wall very quickly, apparently that used to be cool). The side the arm is on can be changed easily.

Line: 8-10lb test, anything more is overkill and may scare the fish. Braided for the mainline, fluorocarbon or monofilament for the leader line. Mono can be used for the mainline too but braided is tougher/stronger. Good line is worth it, here’s what I use for my mainline. You want your reel full of line so it doesn’t catch on the reel and so you don’t hit the end while casting. I recommend a cheaper mono line to tie onto your reel for the first many feet to help fill it up, then tie on your good leader line to the mono line using a double uni knot.

A leader line is useful when you get a snag or a fish takes off with your gear, instead of losing all your line, you just lose your leader.

Hooks: Size 6-8 octopus, circle, or bait hooks. Barbed if legal and if you plan on eating what you catch, barbless if you plan on releasing or regulations require it.

Swivel: Medium/small sized, get snapping ones

Weight: Get egg sinkers in a variety of sizes (they often come in mixed size kits). Note: Most fishing weights are lead, do not consume them or allow pets/children to play with them. Steel weights are an option but they have less size/shape variety and will be bigger than their same weighted lead counterparts. Some places do not allow for the use of lead weights.

Bead: Used to prevent wear on the line/knot from the lead. I personally only use one on my leader line, not below my lead, and that’s my weird angler superstition. They’re very cheap, buy a smaller sized one if you plan on using them.

Net: Seems really self explanatory but I recommend a catch and release friendly net (not knotted, typically a softer material). It's better to have that kind than the kind that may damage their scales in case you need to or decide to release.

Slip/sliding sinker rig:

Ideal for floating bait, the leader line length will depend on the depth the fish will be at (which varies with weather and body of water, 2′ is a good starting point). The lead will sit on the bottom while the bait floats and suspends itself in the water column. The sliding egg sinker weight means the fish won’t feel resistance when it tugs on the bait, fish don’t like resistance. Watch for your line moving away, then set the hook with a quick upwards motion with the rod. Sometimes you won't even need to set the hook because the fish will already be running with it.

Fixed bobber rig:

This set up can be used with or without a leader line but as always I recommend a swivel + leader line (this would be below the bobber). This set up is ideal for sinking baits or when you need to keep all of your gear and line off the bottom of the lake because of weeds, snags, etc. Most bobbers allow you to easily change the length of line below it, useful if you started out with too much or too little line. Since bobbers float, they will move with the current or the wind, this may be a pain or may be a blessing. When the bobber goes down, fish on!

Bait options:

Earthworms/nightcrawlers. This is your cheapest option, you can dig them from your own yard for free. Earthworms sink so they’re best with a bobber set up unless you buy worm blower. I do not use live bait as I find it rather cruel (and most earthworms are not native to my area, no need to help them spread further) but ultimately it’s up to you. Crickets, superworms, mealworms. waxworms, etc are also options, some of which you can breed at home easily.

Fake worms: some float (1, 2), some don’t (1, 2). Don’t get those giant rubber worms meant for bass.

Dough: Ideal for slip sinker set up. Scented Playdo textured dough. Roll enough out to cover your hook and make it float, but not so much that it’s a waste. While this stuff works well, it doesn’t like to stay on the hook. Treble hooks will hold dough on better but they aren’t always allowed and are not suitable for catch and release (if that’s your goal). Also comes in nuggets (costs more per oz). I recommend pink, orange, or yellow.

Artificial eggs: Ideal for slip sinker set up . My preferred bait, I use 3 on a hook and often can reuse the same eggs for several trout. You don’t even need to buy these, they can often be scavenged from places where anglers gather. My mom did this (or used ones I bought) for months with great success. Power eggs and similar ones typically float but there are sinking ones, always check the label. I personally use red, white, or gold ones that are half clear but I’ve also caught them on solid yellow and pink. A family or group of friends could buy multiple colors and split them.

Trout Magnet(tm): Never personally had much luck with these, they can be recasted over and over as a lure or used under a bobber, they do sink. Also useful for panfish.

Lures: I’m not really going to go over lures much since that’s a whole other can of worms, but they are very reusable and can often be found for free in bushes at lakes. They require a different set up and more work to use than bait still fishing. Some do function under a bobber hence the mention.

Now to the actual fishing!

Set up your rig, whichever one you're planning on using, and adjust your leader line accordingly.

Hold the rod with your dominant hand, you want about a foot of mainline hanging off the tip of your rod

Align your line roller (labeled diagram of a reel here) to be pointing your rod.

Use the index (or if you're weird like me your middle) finger to hold the line against the rod

Use your non dominant hand to flip the bail up. Line can now freely fall from the reel so it's important to keep your finger on the line.

Bring the rod over your head, I personally have mine like this before casting. Use a forward throwing motion and release your line. The last step will take lots of practice and I personally recommend practicing at home with just a swivel + weight on. Always be aware of your surroundings, you don't want to hook someone or lose your gear in a tree.

When you feel a bite, set the hook with a quick upwards motion while holding the rod. Sometimes the fish will hook themselves just fine.

Once you have a fish on, reel in! Large fish may need a looser drag and to be played a bit (let them run with the line, then reel in, repeat until fish is tired) but most stocked trout come quietly.

Once you've reeled your fish in, use a net to catch it (if needed) and decide if you're going to release it or keep it for dinner. Fish you're planning on releasing need to be handled gently and with wet hands to protect their fishy coating. Don't take them out of water for too long. Remove the hook quickly with fishing pliers.

If you're going to keep it, it needs to be killed quickly and humanely. Please don't be that person with a bunch of half dead fish on a stringer, or letting your fish aspirate, it's cruel. How you kill your fish is up to you and will depend on the size. For smaller ones I do cervical dislocation, head bonking and cutting the head/spine also work. If I'm killing a fish I always wait until after to remove it's hook so it suffers less.

Cleaning your fish: Ok you have a dead fish, now what? Find the fish butt, it'll be before the tail fins. Insert your fillet knife in and carefully slice up the belly. Ideally you don't want to slice too far in lest you rupture the intestines. Remove the guts. I personally toss all the guts back into the water, as to return the nutrients but there are fish organs you can eat. Use a fingernail to scrape the kidney off of the spine and rinse. From there you can fillet or cook the fish whole. Here's the video that helped me learn to fillet. Keep fish on ice until you're home. They can be frozen, cooked immediately, or refrigerated for a few days.

I hope this guide helped you and as always, if you have questions feel free to ask!

#fishing #fish #trout #I personally recommend salmon meuniere but it also makes great fish tacos

113 notes · View notes

boliv-jenta · 6 months

Text

Maxwell Lord x reader. Din Djarin x ofc. Oberyn Martell x Dieter Bravo.

Set in The 'And It Just Keeps Getting Better' Universe.

Warnings: Smut! M/F, M/M.

Summary: The inhabitants of the motel celebrate Christmas.

Author's note: not proofread because it's already Christmas, and I just finished it.

Merry Christmas

“It's the most wonderful time of the year!” Maxwell exclaims, stamping his snow covered boots on the welcome mat just inside the reception door. Fairy lights and garland adorning the front window shake as he shut the door firmly behind him to keep out the bitter December wind.

Mrs Lord can't help but smile at her husband's child-like joy. Speaking of child-like. “So you'll be back with Alastair around four?”

“Yes, my love.” Maxwell confirms with a press of his cold lips against her cheek. Even through the cold she still leans into his affection. His cinnamon sweet aftershave fills her senses. It's so consuming that she can taste it on her tongue and it's splashed on that oh so biteable neck. Her indecent train of thought is interrupted by the Christmas bells on the door tinkling.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt.” Din casts his eyes away almost shyly.

Mrs Lord is still taken by how small the hulk of man can make himself seem.

“It's fine, Din. Are those Grogu's presents?” Mrs Lord makes her way around the counter to take the large hessian sack.

“Thank you again for suggesting this. Grogu hasn't stopped talking about it.” A broad smile lights up Din's handsome face. His brown eyes that can be so intense shine with warmth.

“Neither has Alastair. They will have a wonderful time.” Maxwell can barely contain his own excitement. “Alastair will be here at four but you are welcome to come over earlier to settle in. We always love to see Grogu.”

“He loves to see you, too.” Din smiles at how close they have gotten. Grogu has now got so many aunts, uncles and cousins. It warms Din's heart to see the boy finally surrounded by family.

“Dinner is at two tomorrow. Santos is cooking an amazing feast. Everyone is coming down around half an hour before so we can get everyone seated. There are so many of us.” Mrs Lord laughs.

Who knew that her hiring some company for the night would lead to her having all the company she could wish for?

Alastair wasted no time in throwing himself into Mrs Lord's arms as soon as he saw her she couldn't help affectionately chuckling into his hair. “Hi, Sweetheart!”

“Hi, Mrs Mom.” Alastair thought his nickname was hilarious since everyone calls her Mrs Lord.

It was the ‘mom’ part that stuck with her. Even though she still had no desire to have a child of her own she loved Alastair like he was her own.

“Do you want to see where you will be sleeping?” Maxwell picks up his son's overnight bag already knowing what his response will be. Alastair has been talking about this for weeks.

The three rooms they would be using were on a row of four set back from the rest of the motel. They were once used for staff and their families. They were the lastest rooms to be completely remodelled. The middle one was where Grogu and Alastair would be sleeping. The room to the left had an adjoining door. Din and his girlfriend would be in that one. Grogu had come a long way but Din didn't want him to feel alone. He had explained that he can come through the door at any time to get his father. Grogu had insisted that he would be having too much fun to need him. A thought that warmed and slightly broke Din's heart. That little boy he rescued was growing bigger everyday. As proud as he was, a tiny part of him missed being needed with Grogu's every step towards independence.

Mr and Mrs Lord would sleep in a room on the other side. It was thought it best that the boys couldn't just walk into their room at any time. They had very little restraint when it came to each other.

“Wow!” Alastair’s eyes lit up at the sight before him. There was a Christmas tree in the corner with some presents already wrapped underneath it. Stockings with their names on hung from the bottom of each bed. There were snacks and fixings for hot chocolate set up for them. Board games were stacked on the bedside cabinet. “This is amazing! Thank you, Daddy.”

As much as Maxwell loved his new life, having his son there just made it complete. “You are so welcome!” Maxwell scopes his son up into his arms. “Now shall we go pick something for dinner? We thought we would order pizza.”

“Yes!” Alastair matched his father’s joyful mood.

When an order comes in from the motel in the woods it always causes a stir. Everyone knows the rumours. Satan worshippers. Some sort of religious cult. Sex maniacs. Serial killers. It wasn't the rumours that caused a stir though. Everyone with half a brain that visited knew exactly what was going on there. As they were regular customers, everyone in the pizza place knew. The stir was caused to be the one that delivered the order because they tipped big. Luckily for Jun he was the only one there when the order came in. Unluckily for him, it was a big one.

Reaching into the back seat, he began to pull out the order. Not wanting to make too many trips in the snow, he tried to carry as many things as possible. The garlic knots balanced on top of a stack of pizzas almost tipped over only to be caught by a beautiful woman. “I can take those.”

Before Jun could answer, a parade of men followed her to help take the food in while two excited children weaved in and out of them. Before Jun could form any questions of the set up in his mind, a man with swept back, honey blond hair pushed a wad of cash into his hand. “Keep the change. Happy Holidays!”

Once all the people had retreated Jun blinked back to the cash in his hand to find that it was almost four times the amount of the food. “Er, thank you!” He called to the closing door.

In Reception the pizza was handed out for everyone to take back to their rooms. The boys and their little families retreated to the boys’ sleepover room. They ate their fill sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor.

“Slow down, kid.” Din had to remind Grogu. Even after all the months living comfortably with Din, the child's survival instincts still kicked in. Once upon a time he never knew when or if he'd get to each again.

“Sorry, Dad.” Grogu grinned. Before the boy would have hung his head in shame. He used to take everything, even the smallest, slightly negative comment, to heart. Din's own heart swells at the realisation that Grogu now genuinely feels at ease and the kid is just enjoying the food on offer.

Din puts his hand on Grogu's shoulder. “It's okay, Son.”

Grogu happily leans into his father as he finishes off the piece of stuffed crust in his hand. Mrs Lord snaps a quick candid picture on the camera Maxwell bought her for Christmas. Din mouths a heartfelt ‘thank you’. It's for more than the photo. It's for giving him the opportunity that set him on the path to have his found family.

Mrs Lord mouths back ‘you're welcome’ with tears in her eyes, knowing how the motel has changed so many lives in so many wonderful ways. Before they can get too caught up in their emotions, Maxwell, who is practically vibrating with excitement, loudly excuses himself. Both Din and Mrs Lord know what he's up to so their smiles grow into suppressed laughter.

All the adults tidy up the remnants of the pizza feast while the boys chat animatedly back and forth on their beds. Not before long the sound of jingling sleigh bells fills the air outside. Din and Mrs Lord exchange an eye roll. Thankfully Din's partner goes into full teacher mode. “Boys. Can you hear that?”

Both Alastair and Grogu kneel up on their beds excitedly looking at the door. The bells grow louder until they stop outside the door. The children squeal with excitement as the door opens.

“Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas!” Comes a deep voice with a very generic American accent. The door opens wider to reveal ‘Santa’ in a very stylish suit, with a small sack swung over his shoulder.

“I hear you boys are on the nice list!”

“Dad!” Alastair giggles.

“Dad? Oh, I just passed your father. He had to go make a phone call. He said you are a very good boy. He also said that Grogu is too and he loves you both very much.” Santa informs them.

The air is nearly knocked out of Santa as Grogu runs over to hug him. His head of curls pressed against Santa’s more streamlined tummy, his arms tightly around his waist. “I love you, too.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I mean, thank you Santa.” He adds louder grinning up at Maxwell.

Maxwell is just about keeping it together as he slips back into character. “You are very welcome. Now I came here to make a special early visit. I have one present each for you. I will bring the rest tonight when I visit each and every child.”

As Grogu runs off to sit back in his bed and wait for his gift, Max moves after him, catching the eye of Din who is trying to hide his tear streaked face in his partner's hair. Maxwell gives him a nod as his own lip trembles.

Placing the sack on the end of Alastair’s bed, he puts out two identical presents. Each one immaculately wrapped in green paper with a red ribbon wrapped around and tied into a bow. The only difference was the glittery tag with their names on in a fancy gold scrawl.

“Here you go.” He hands both boys their presents. When they don't open them immediately, Maxwell urges them. “Well, go on. Open them!”

Both boys take this as permission to tear into the wrapper. Inside they find a plain white box. Excitement building they pull off the lid to both find a set of Mickey Mouse ears. Both of them look perplexed at Santa.

Santa's accent cracks with excitement as he exclaims “You boys are going to Disneyland!”

It took a good hour and a half to calm the boys down and get them to bed. When it finally looked like they would finally go asleep the adults piled out the main door. Mrs Lord turned swiftly to to Din. “Can you watch the boys? Maxwell and I have some business in the motel. Thank you.”

Without giving him time to answer she leaves dragging her husband behind her. Din grins as they disappear from view. He knew exactly what business they had to conduct. He'd conducted the same business with his girlfriend earlier in the day, twice, in the hopes that an urgent business matter wouldn't pop up as he lay pressed into her sleeping form that night with the boys in the other room. Din thought it a very wise decision that the Lords be on the other side of the motel right now. Having heard their business dealings in the past.

When the door to their room closed behind them Maxwell starts pulling off the Santa outfit.

“Max? Could you…?” For the first time in their relationship Maxwell saw his wife look timid.

It took a moment for him to work it out. “Oh! You want me to keep it on?” His surprised tone made Mrs Lord want the ground to swallow her up.

“Would it be too weird? I don't know why you just look…sexy.” Mrs Lord was talking exclusively to her feet now.

Maxwell doesn't answer at first, his fingers are busy doing up a button and fixing his long white beard back in place. When he does it's with the same deep voiced generic American accent from before. “You have been such a good girl this year you deserve a treat. Why don't you sit on my lap and tell me what you would like?”

‘Santa’ sits on the edge of the bed with his legs spread wide. His semi hard cock was already bulging against the red fabric. A white gloved hand patting his firm thigh invitation. Mrs Lord goes to delicately sit on his leg only for him to stop her.

“Not like that, my dear.” Thin cotton strokes the back on her thighs as he encourages her to straddle his thigh. As soon as she sits down he can feel her wetness through the velvet suit.

“There that's better. Now tell Santa what you want.” His large hands guide her hips to start grinding against him.

“Fuck. I wanna come.” Mrs Lord grits out.

Santa tuts at her. “Now, now. No bad language. I don't want to put you on the naughty list. What do you want for Christmas?” His hands grip her harder, dragging her back and forth over his muscular thigh.

“I want….nothing. For once I have it all.” her breathing is picking up as the crushed velvet bunched against her clit through her thin, soaked panties and leggings.

“Really?” Santa smirks clenching his thigh and moving her faster.

“Really. I've always been well off materially. Now I have the love of my life too. What more could I want? Oh, shit. I'm coming.” her fingers dig into the plush fabric of his lapel as she rides out her release.

“What did I say about the bad language? I'm afraid you are on the naughty list.” A gloved hand threads into her hair pulling deliciously at the roots. Using it as leverage he forces her down to her knees.

“I'm sorry, Santa. Can I do something to get back on the nice list?” The fluttering of her eyelashes from between his legs makes Santa’s cock full hard.

“You can be a good girl and help Santa empty his sack.” the hand that isn't in her hair works at pulling out his length.

As soon as it's free, Mrs Lord sucks it like a candy cane, causing Santa to tug on her hair sharply. “Slowly. Santa wants to enjoy this.”

The second his wife's eager mouth engulfed him Maxwell had to think of the worst things he could think of to keep from spilling his sack early. As she slowly takes him, pushing the tight O of his lips down to the base he makes a note to keep the Santa suit in his closet, after he has her cum dry cleaned from the pants.

“Such a good girl. I think you can be back on the nice list. You can even have an early present. You say you couldn't want anything else but I think you do. I think you want the greedy little hole filling. You want Santa to warm your walls with his cum.”

A hum from his wife vibrates right down to his balls and brings Maxwell right to the edge. “Stop. Santa wants to blow his load in that tight cunt.”

Ignoring him, she suckes hard, hollowing her cheeks completely and is rewarded by the salty sweet tang of his cum on her tongue. Santa shudders through his orgasm. A breathy whine leaves him then he is silent for a moment as he catches his breath. When he does, he drags Mrs Lord up by her hair and forces her face down on the bed. “Naughty girl. Now you have to earn your place on the nice list again.”

One large hand keeps her pinned as the other strips away her leggings. Her ass cheeks are exposed to him in her thong. Her flesh stings as Santa delivers a hard slap to the plump flesh of her cheek. The pain shoots to her clit, engorging it further.

“Oh, Santa!” She screams.

Seeing his wife completely lost in the fantasy gets Maxwell half hard in record time. A couple more spanks have him almost all the way there. He loves how much his wife now trusts him to fully let go of her control. It has awoke something inside of him that he never knew was there.

“You know what. I don't think I will put you back on the nice list. I think you will stay on Santa's naughty list and every year I will visit you. I will take out the stress of the night on your body. I will pour it all into your wet pussy.” As he finishes he notches the cum soaked head of his cock at her entrance. He moans deeply as every inch is welcomed by her body. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come on my cock. Soak me while I used your hole for my pleasure, you little fucking slut.”

It's not long before she comes around him. A combination of Santa's words and fat cock, along with her knowing her own body. Santa actually loses count of how many times she comes as he concentrates on filling her as deeply as possible, on having every inch of his cock feel her pussy's kiss. At one point he barely pulls out, just stuffs himself in further and further, harder and faster. His wife's free hand claws the bed as she practically sings ‘oh, god’ like a Christmas carol.

As he nears his peak he finally snaps out of his pussy drunk haze to find that his wife is practically curled up into a ball, shoved right up against the headboard while he had one leg on the floor and one spread across the bed. His hips move impossibly fast as he slams into her. The vulgar sound of his cock filling her sopping channel fills the air along with their moans. “Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Fuck, Baby. I'm gonna come. Fuck. Do you want it? You want my come in your pussy?”

“Fuck, yes. Max!” She gasps.

“What's my name?” Max grits out. “I wanna hear you scream it, you filthy bitch.”

“Santa. I want you to shoot your cum into my greedy hole, Santa. I want to feel it drip out. Come on, Santa, you always have so much for me.” Her own dirty talk pushes her over the edge one more time. She clamps down so hard on Santa's cock that he has no other choice but to fill her. He works himself through it milking as much cum as his can out to plough it deeper into her. He doesn't stop until his cock is completely soft. Once his soft cock slips out of her, she is on him, licking it clean.

Santa puts her on her back to return the favour. Licking up every bit of their cum that has escaped onto her folds before plunging his tongue inside. A ripple of aftershocks runs through her before she pushes him away.

“Merry Christmas, Santa!” Mrs Lord laughs.

Maxwell joins in with her laughter. “If it always ends like that we can have Christmas every month. I'll buy a whole wardrobe of Santa outfits.”

Mrs Lord suddenly stops laughing and Maxwell worries he's said something wrong.

“Was it super weird..that I…you know…got turned on by Santa?”

Maxwell finally pulls off his bread to kiss his wife's forehead. “We all have something that is a little embarrassing.”

“Oh, yeah? So you have some kinky fantasy about an innocent childhood favourite?”

It was Maxwell's turn to look timid. “Oh, you do! I'm sorry I didn't mean…”

“No. It's okay. I told you it was fine so I don't mind.” Maxwell takes a deep breath and releases it. “Tinkerbell.”

“Tinkerbell? From Peter Pan?”

“Her thighs and hips are so full and that tiny little skirt. Plus she's very head strong. I like that in a woman.” Maxwell's hand that was absently stroking her back gave her arm a pointed squeeze.

Mrs Lord turned her head to beam up at him. “Well, thank you for sharing. Maybe Tinkerbell and Santa can team up and make a little magic sometime?”

“Hmm. I like that.” Maxwell practically growled before kissing her deeply.

“Wait. Does this mean I have to keep an eye on you at Disneyland?” Maxwell answered her question by playfully swatting her ass.

The two of them dissolved into giggles.

The Lord's laughter floated up to the second floor where another set of lovers were wrapped in each other's arms.

“They are pretty cute together. Huh? They have something special.” Dieter comments.

“They are not the only ones. They are just more open about it.” Oberyn stares at the curls forming at the nape of Dieter's sweat soaked neck intently waiting for his response.

Dieter knows his paramour all too well. He can feel those intense brown eyes willing him to see him how he sees him. Not how he thinks the world does. Some drugged up, washed up actor. A loser.

“Don't.” Oberyn can practically hear the negative thoughts in Dieter's tousled head. “Don't go there. Stay with me.” Dieter shudders as Oberyn kisses that spot on his neck.

Everyone in the motel knew that there was something between the two of them. None of them knew the depth of it. None of them knew for the first time in either man's life that they actually felt like they knew what true love was. Neither of them had been looking for it the night they stumped back to Oberyn's room. Dieter just wanted to suck the hot Dom's cock. Oberyn just wanted to use those pretty lips while he held onto that soft hair. After that they met up regularly and the sex was electric. If a client didn't scratch their itch completely they'd seek each other out and fuck until they were spent. Then came the pillow talk. Both of them lowered their defences and would talk about anything and everything until the early hours. Slowly they became more to each other. It all went unspoken until Dieter suggested a new position. When Oberyn had an earth shattering orgasm with his face hovering over Dieter's he couldn't help the words that came out. “I love you.”

When Dieter froze like a deer in headlights, Oberyn moved to pull out and nurse his broken heart.

He stopped when Dieter grabbed his hand. “Ryn...” his voice failed him, choked back with all the emotion. “...I…I love you, too.”

From then on they were even more inseparable.

“I know what you think but I promise you no one else thinks that.” Oberyn pulled Dieter tighter into his arms as if he could squeeze the truth into him.

“No one else knows that you are a prince.” Dieter huffed.

“Mi rey, I am the illegitimate bastard child of a disgraced member of the Royal family. Hardly a prince.” Oberyn scoffs, continuing his trail of kisses down his lover's back.

“Technically you are.” Dieter pouts knowing he is losing the argument and with Oberyn's attention on him, the will to even argue.

“Mi rey, they already know we are together. They are happy for us. I would just like to hold your hand at dinner tomorrow like the Lords will be. Is that too much to ask?” While he spoke Oberyn gently turned Dieter in his arms. His full lips were now making a path across Dieter's chest.

Oberyn taking an eager nipple in his mouth and sucking is all it takes to get the answers he desires. “Fuck. Okay. Fine. You win, Ryn. We'll hold hands. Now just fuck me please!”

Oberyn's well groomed moustache twitches as he hides a smirk. “With pleasure, my love.”

The Lords stare up at the ceiling that may actually be in danger of caving in from the way the light fixture is shaking above their heads. Deep guttural groans fill the air as the bed slams into the wall and the bed springs squeak.

“I can't believe they really think we don't know about them.” Mrs Lord laughs.

“There is a big difference between sex and love, Mi Amor.”

“That's true but the sex is even better with a connection. That's why we were always so good together. I swear I knew I was going to love you before I did.”

Din thinks to himself. ‘The best laid plans…’ With the boys asleep and the door between their rooms firmly shut. He found his cock buried inside his girlfriend, his large hand suppressing her moans as he whispers in her ear. “Keep quiet for me, Baby.”, “That's it, just take it nice and slow.”, “Can you come for me like this? Or do you need my fingers?”

Turns out she did need his fingers but only to suck on to keep her quiet as she came around him. Din whimpered as he pulled out to finish himself off. He needed it hard and fast to finish and he couldn't guarantee that the bed wouldn't make a noise if he fucked her like he needed.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He breathes against his fist he gets closer. His girlfriend covering the tip with her warm, pretty mouth is the last straw as he gives her the cum she's waiting for, his teeth firmly in his fist to hold back his ecstatic groans.

After the adults all thoroughly enjoy Christmas eve, it's time for the kids to enjoy Christmas morning. The presents that Din snuck in in the night sat under the tree signalling that Santa had been. The boys ran to wake up their respective grown ups with eager chants of ‘It's Christmas!”

Four tired but happy adults filed into the room to watch their boys open their gifts. They were so appreciative of each one and complemented each other on their cool gifts.

“We are very lucky men indeed.” Maxwell nudges Din with his shoulder as they watch on.

Din, who feels like he's finally found everything that he'd been searching for just nods in agreement, not trusting his voice in the moment.

Dinner time rolls around and everyone starts arriving at the reception hall. The new maitre d’,Paul, is there to welcome and seat them. The round table had all been pushed into a circle for everyone to sit around the outside. Each table was festively decorated with sparkling silver and white decorations. Lights hung from the ceiling rippled in various patterns.

Jack and his girlfriend arrive first, with the news that Jack has asked her to move into his ranch home with him. Silva and his husband Jake are next. There are a few questioning looks as they arrive as Jake hadn't visited the motel before.

Silva formally introduces everyone before Jake steps forward to address the Lords. “Thank you so much. Without this job Silva and I would have lost our home.” When they look puzzled he continues “I was injured at work a while back. My insurance did cover all of the medical bills plus Silva had to take some time off work to nurse me back to health. Without the generous pay from here, I don't know where we would be. Thank you.”

Maxwell takes Jake's outstretched hand. “You are most welcome. I'm glad we could help you both.”

The handshake moves to a shoulder slapping hug before Paul seats them.

Moreno and Pike arrive together. Moreno is followed by an excited tween. Her head full of curls bounces with each skip she takes closer. She is introduced as Missy with a proud smile on his father's face. Pike is next to introduce his companion. The Lords know he is nervous about bringing her here. Pike doesn't have the best track record when it comes to women. He swears this one is different, he can feel it. The Lords make sure to be extra welcoming to his guest. They see a relieved Pike relax into his chair when he clearly happy date sits and chats to more of the guests. (If only Marcus knew that he'd be telling their twelve grandchildren that story one day after decades of blissful married life.)

Even though they are the ones that lived closest, Dieter and Oberyn arrived last. Even after Joel who didn't have the best time keeping. They walked in, hand in hand and took their seats with the others all exchanged amused glances.

Santos outdoes himself with the festive feast he puts on. The smell alone could keep you fed. Rich gravies, aromatic meat and seasoned veg make everyone's mouth water as they are set out on the long table for everyone to help themselves. After everyone is thoroughly satisfied, in a different way than usual at the motel, the atmosphere is relaxed and happy. People chat in groups and pairs. Laughter fills the air from adults and children alike. Couples, new and more established, hold hands and cuddle into each other. Families, both by blood and found, embraced and celebrated. Love filled the space.

The motel was created to fulfil the wishes of those that visited. It was only fitting that it also fulfilled the ones of those who found a home there. By the end of the night, much to Mrs Lord's delight, Santa made another appearance. After over indulging in a little too much Christmas spirit he was helped to his room by Joel and Din. As he was carried out of sight he exclaimed “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x ofc #dieter bravo #oberyn martell

15 notes · View notes

tornadoyoungiron · 8 months

Text

TRAINTOBER | DAY 6 - Special Letters

It’s Tornado’s 10th Birthday but she’s broken and alone on a strange railway. As far as birthdays go, this is the worst one, however, a special letter does manage to cheer her up.

Featuring petulant Tornado.

~~~

“You alright there steamie?” A voice asked her as she sat in this strange shed, miles from home with her wheels in stocks and parts of her in disarray.

“Do I look okay to you diesel?!” Tornado snapped at the Class 14 who flinched at how angry and disgruntled she sounded.

“Sorry, I was just trying to find out if there was anything I could do?” The Class 14 muttered as Tornado sniffed.

“Can you take me back home?” Tornado asked a glimmer of home in her voice. The Class 14 looked apologetically at the young steam engine.

“Sorry pet, I can’t do that,” he regretfully informed her.

Tornado was disenchanted and lowered her gaze to her buffers. She didn’t want this, this wanted to go home, she didn’t want to be in pieces so far away from home, she didn’t want to be in pieces at all.

“Is there anything else I can do, to cheer you up perhaps?” The diesel offered but Tornado sniffed as she felt tears slipping down her face.

“I just want to go home,” she cried, her voice crackling as she dissolved into tears. “I want to be with my friends. I don’t want to spend my birthday like this!”

“It’s your birthday?” The diesel asked, unsure how to deal with the crying engine. “I can get some engines around, we can celebrate with you.”

“But I don’t know any of you! I want my friends!” Tornado wailed angrily. “I want my Trust! I want to be fixed!”

The diesel still stood awkwardly at her side, unsure how to interact with the young engine. They stood there, the air filled with tension until the human entrance to the shed opened with a metal screech.

“Hey Tornado,” a small quiet voice called up to her.

Tornado blinked the tears from her eyes and looked down to find the kind, gentle face of one of her engineers, Chloe.

“Have you come to take me home?” Tornado desperately asked. “Please, please take me home.”

Chloe’s face fell and she looked despondent.

“I can’t do that Tornado, I’m sorry,” she regretfully told Tornado. “I came to spend time with you, so you wouldn’t be alone.”

Tornado looked away from her, still upset but comforted by the fact that she at least would have someone she liked with her. She sniffed and blinked away the tears welling in her eyes.

“Thank you, Ms. Chloe,” Tornado quietly murmured. It wasn’t much, but at least one of her favourite engineers was here.

Chole gave Tornado a reassuring pat on her buffer before turning away, rummaging through her bag and taking out an envelope stamped with a wax seal.

“I would have brought you a cake but well, you don’t have a good history with cake,” Chloe half jokingly remarked.

Tornado blushed pink and huffed in response.

“It’s not my fault, cake shouldn’t taste good and be bad for my pipes!” Tornado petulantly argued and Chloe chuckled.

“You’re not the first engine who has a love-hate relationship with cake Tornado,” she giggled. “But yes, let's not clog your pipes with sugar sludge.”

Tornado just grumbled in response and refused to look at Chloe. She liked cake, sometimes she craved it in her firebox. It couldn’t be helped.

“Ms Olivia asked me to pass this on to you,” Chloe smiled. “She’s sorry that she can’t come by and see you, she’s on Sodor right now.”

“Oh, right,” Tornado mumbled as she turned her attention back to Chloe and the envelope in her hand. It had Oliva’s deep green wax seal on it and she smiled. At least Olivia hadn’t forgotten about her.

“May I sit on your buffer beam, Lady Tornado?” Chloe asked and Tornado smiled in agreement.

Chloe sat on her buffer beam so the Tornado could look over her head and read the letter. It was handwritten and Ms Olivia’s handwritten was old-fashioned, neat and cursive.

Dearest Tornado, The Young Iron of Darlington,

I hope this letter reaches you well, despite your accident. I am terribly sorry to hear of it and I know how much being broken upsets you. Fear not, however, for your Trust loves you dearly and will do everything it can to make sure that you are in the best health and back on the rails in due time.

Not only your Trust but people around the world are willing to help you and give money to make sure you are well. I want you to know that even though things might seem dark, things are going to get better, so stay strong and your patience will be rewarded. You are stronger than you know and you are an inspiration to many.

There are many engines out there across the globe who rejoiced when 10 years to this day, news broke of a brand new Steam Engine had awoken. Many of these engines had given up hope, they had been resigned to the fact that steam was no longer a part of this world yet you proved them wrong. You proved a lot of them wrong and you gave them hope, gave some of them a reason to live.

I think one of these engines was Flying Scotsman believe it or not. Although he would never admit it, Scotsman was one of these engines for the longest time. Meeting you and taking you under his wing… sparked something in him. For years, he’d been depressed, he’d been lost but the moment you came into his life there was a new fire in his firebox. You gave him a new purpose in his life. For you to have inspired the most famous engine in the world to want a new lease on life is no small feat.

I am honoured to have been your first driver, Tornado. Not because I was your first driver but because you gave me and a lot of your Trust a unique look at how engines work. It’s hard to believe that you only first began to run 10 years ago but it has been an amazing 10 years.

It’s certainly been filled with trials and tribulations but they have only made you stronger. You are the pioneer for a new age of Steam Engines and I hope that you will lead it for decades into the future, long after we small humans who built you are gone from this world.

It’s been a wonderful 10-years Tornado. I hope that the future is bright and full of perfect steaming days for you.

Safe travels,

Olivia P. Spence

PS: Scotsman tried to leave to see you for today. He’s not fit to run long distances, but he made it as far as Manchester before we managed to stop his train. He’d managed to convince a couple of young upstarts to take him. He has been scolded and promptly scolded for his silliness. He asked me not to tell you this but I feel I should as it shows just how much he adores you. He’s looking forward to catching up with you, so make sure you push to be repaired soon!

Tornado laughed as she read the words of Scotsman’s escapade.

"He risked damaging himself to come and see me?" She asked bewildered.

“Scotsman loves you a lot!” Chloe beamed. “He was like that with a lot of the younger Peppercorns back in the day too!”

“Was he?” Tornado asked confused as to how she knew that and Chloe shifted uncomfortably on her beam. “Maybe I remind him of them.”

“Perhaps you do,” Chloe smiled up at Tornado. “Perhaps you do.”

~~~

Tornado's 10 Aniversary Cake

Olivia's still going by her adoptive name

#traintober #traintober 2023 #ttte tornado #ttte fanfic #ttte

23 notes · View notes

focsle · 1 year

Text

“I wish you a Merry Christmass at Home” 2nd mate of the whaleship Arnolda Benjamin Boodry wrote in the margins for his entry on this day in 1852. He consoled himself with his lot with a refrain he wrote often over the years: “But it is not for life if it is for 4 years”. On Christmas eve, he shared where his subconscious was spending its time:

“A pleasant dream about home and loved ones I wish I was there to night I think I should call on some of my friends if it was not to late But there is many a calm, squall, and gale to pass over my devoted head before that day comes.”

Holidays tended to bring out the sentimentality in many whalers who were so long and far from what they felt was home. Here are a handful:

Allen Newman, Edward, 1848

“I wish all my friends A merey Christmus which is more than I anticipate for myself.”

Mary Lawrence, Addison, 1858

“Christmas Day reminds us of home and friends. Minnie wished to hang up her stocking as usual, and as I had a tin of candies which her grandpa put up for her, “Santa Claus” managed to fill it very well. We sat down to a Christmas dinner of two roast turkeys, sweet and Irish potatoes, boiled onions, stewed pumpkin and cranberries, pickles, and a nice indian pudding made of milk and eggs. Had a goat killed for the benefit of those living in the forecastle, to which, I should think, they did ample justice as there are but two legs remaining.”

Joseph Dias, Ocmulgee, 1847

“Comes with strong breezes from the westward and overcast weather, steering S.E. with all sail set. This day I am 25 years old 25 what and not married yet are like to be shocking. But this is not all I am disapointed in. For I have been keeping Marys cake to celebrate my birth day with and this morning I took it out for the pourpus of eating but when I come to cut it I found it was spoiled a sad disappointment. But what grieves me most is to think I let it spoil after Mary took so much panes with it Oh dear Mary I hope you will not spoil so soon for the want of some one to take care of you.”

John Winslow, Wave, 1852

“Comes with a strong gale of wind from the E.ward this day My Wife is 26 years old if she is living and has got a poor sailor for a husband but it is not the worst for her for that May she live to enjoy many more years of Life and may they prove to be far happier than those that are past”

[Dec 26th]

“O if I could make 250 dollars this voyage I would not go to sea any more for it is a dogs life and sometimes when I think of the comforts of my home with my Wife and children I almost resolve never to go to sea again let me get a home of my own and I will stay by it.”

J.T. Langdon, St Peter, 1849

“The first part calm not a breath of air ruffled the face of the stormy deep. But with an ever rolling motion rocks our old ship like a vast cradle and the surface of the deep is like a vast mirror reflecting objects on its surface The first part ends Christmas and how many melancholy reflections come around unbidden and unasked for One year ago I was at home enjoying every pleasure that heart could wish friends to cheer and schoolmates to greet with a merry Christmas but now I am far away on the stormy ocean Many thousand miles intervene between this and my once happy Home”

John Martin, Lucy Ann, 1841

“As fine a day as we have had since we left the Capes of Delaware. The Watch on deck was employed in breaking out from the hold, bread, water, vinegar & other stores. We had Turtle Sea Pie for dinner. Take it altogether we spent a merry Christmas & more to my satisfaction than many a one I spent on shore.”

Benjamin Bourne, Annawann II, 1859

“[in the margins, alongside a stamp of a whale’s flukes] This Whale aught to have been saved - stove the boat Wish All a Mary Christmas Begins with a strong wind Bark steering S at 3 pm wind shifted to the Estrd a heavey rain squall took in sail to a close reef Main Topsail & staysails luffed to the wind heading SSE. Lat part at 9am saw a large sperm whale going slow into the SW so ends this day. [With an addendum on Jan 29th, 1899] I thought I was having a hard time 40 years ago but it was the best of my life.

Silliman Ives, Sunbeam, 1868

“The wheels of time have made another revolution and Christmas “Merry Christmas” is with us once again, although I can’t complain of being particularly merry, on the contrary I am rather inclined to feel somewhat sad. O Fate! Inexorable fate! that compels me to spend this holiday miles away from home and kindred, far out upon the surging billows of the Atlantic. Little did I think while enjoying the pleasures and amenities of this festival season one year ago among relatives and friends, that to day would find me here. But it is not given us to know the future, and it is a wise providence that withholds from us such knowledge, for had I known this was to be my destiny, any joy would have been sadly marred during that happy period. I wonder if the dear ones at home as they greet each other this morning, and exchange those endearing mementos common to this day, have a thought for their wild and reckless though still loving son, and brother, and cousin, who to day is separated from their hearths and homes by leagues and leagues of blue water. As the incense arises from off the family altar on this Christmas morning, is there a prayer breathed for the wanderer? I believe there is. Love conquers distance and in their hearts and their prayers he has his accustomed place.”

#long post //#awhalin #GOT KINDA SAD COMPILING THESE….love all u….#I’m fine and used to spending holidays alone but there is somethin about….goin through the journals of these lads also spendin them alone #LOVE ALL U LADS SO MUCH….

65 notes · View notes