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sweetiecutie · 1 year ago

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🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

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fairyysoup · 3 months ago

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the devil i know

chapter two: look here all you want

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: Eddie gets your car back. You're trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

cw: deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, coercion (a bit), sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, animal death, trauma, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, depictions of abuse, dark comedy, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Eddie makes sure that the man feels him before he sees him. It may be cruel, but he’s always had a flair for the dramatic– once a Dungeon Master, always a Dungeon Master– and what’s Hell without a little fun and debauchery?

The man smells Eddie’s sickly sweet, smoky aroma first. It’s the first thing anyone notices about him, of course. The shit follows him everywhere, alerting people of his presence like a fucking cat collar with a bell on it. The wind that he conjures always smells at least like a bonfire– at worst, he’s the grand eruption of Mount Vesuvius. He guesses it’s some sort of infernal practical joke (he formed the hellfire club in life, so now he has to remain in it for the rest of time, or some shit. Don’t ask him. He doesn’t know all the answers, just the dumb ones).

Then the man jolts, his eyes flying all around him as he hears Eddie. Or, at least, what Eddie allows him to hear. It begins in whispers, like leviathans in the mists, murmuring and overlapping each other. It rocks slowly toward a crescendo. And then, Eddie’s voice, soft before the man realizes what’s happening to him.

“Found you.”

There’s a sickening crack, and then the windshield of the car explodes beneath the man’s spine. He barrel rolls to the ground to find Eddie looming over him, staring him down, his eyes dead black and unforgiving.

“Hi, Spencer.” The heel of Eddie’s boot crushes against the man’s chest, holding him down. Eddie’s voice is comically musical, like the crackling of brush just beginning to go up in flames. “Busy tonight, are we?”

The man, Spencer, trembles as he stares up at Eddie. Blood tinges his bottom lip, either from biting it when he hit the windshield, or from coughing up whatever blood exists in his fermented body.

He gestures at the duffel bag that he’d been holding when Eddie grabbed him, now laying on the ground. “Look, man– I dunno who you are, b-but you can have all the fuckin’ money, it’s right there–”

“I don’t want your fucking money.” Eddie squints at him, trying to gauge Spencer’s thoughts. They’re malicious, yes, but not murderous. He robbed the liquor store down the street, and then he pulled into the motel around the corner to try to check in with the money. He’s dangerous and stupid, but he’s not a killer. Yet.

Eddie didn’t have to read the guy’s mind to know that, though.

“Whose car is this?”

“What?”

“Whose–” Eddie digs his boot harder into the guy’s chest– “Car?”

“Some fuckin’ small town whore, how should I know?” Now is not the time to play coy. Spencer learns that when Eddie’s foot shoots forward, and the toe of his book connects ungraciously with his chin. Pain rockets through his jaw. “Fuck!”

“Save it.” Eddie’s temper has grown exponentially with his immortality, he thinks. He wonders sometimes if he’d always been this way, or if Hell has just made him worse. Probably both. “Do you have any idea who you’ve stolen from?”

He’s seen the memory– Spencer, drunk off his ass and running on blind adrenaline from robbing a corner store, stole your car from the parking lot of a diner; the diner where you work.

You had to walk home in the rain. Eddie’s heart practically aches, watching you come home to an empty apartment, dirty and wet and shivering. He never wants to see it happen to you again as long as you live. He’s promised you that it won’t.

He also promised they’ll get as good as they gave. And demon or not, Eddie Munson never ever goes back on a promise.

“Hell, I stole from lotsa people,” Spencer chuckles, his head sliding back and forth across the pavement as he rolls his eyes, gargling on the blood in his mouth. “F’yer here to collect, y’can just take the money and go. I ain’t got nothin’ else.”

“Oh, but you do, Spence.” Eddie grins with sharp teeth when he bends down to pick Spencer up by his throat. The flames in his eyes burst to life, roaring red and demonic. A flash of recognition crosses Spencer’s face when he realizes that Eddie is far more than he seems. “See, you stole from my girl. Now you get to suffer.”

Eddie was always intimidating. He made himself appear like that to push people away, until it started to backfire on him, and then it just got worse when he became a demon. It’s a natural instinct for humans to shrink away. He emanates danger, even when he’s not putting on a show– even when his eyes are dark and he isn’t producing fire from his hands.

That’s one of the things that sealed your fate. You didn’t shrink away from him, even when he tested you. He’s always been a show off, and he’s very egotistical, he won’t lie. He gave you a little taste of his dark side, showed you his hellfire and brimstone, and you called him hot. To his face.

Well, you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Even if he wasn’t already sold on you, there was absolutely no way he was letting you go after that.

Eddie dumps Spencer on the ground. In Spencer’s head, the haunting voices seem to crash back raucously as magma boiling at the lip of a volcano. A chill sweeps through Spencer’s body as it retreats, as he feels the creeping panic rising in him, the ringing in his ears. Then, as soon as it fades, it’s again overthrown by the chorus, the cacophony of behemoth voices. Overlapping each other, humming along with the slow heartbeat of the drums.

It’s the arc toward the end of the death metal album Eddie wanted to write during his lifetime, but never got the chance to. It has to be good for something, even if Spencer is never going to appreciate Eddie’s musical genius.

Spencer doesn’t need to know that, though.

Spencer lays trembling, his hands clapped tight around his ears. Nothing will stop it, save time– and by then, Spencer will probably be wishing Eddie had just killed him and gotten it over with.

Eddie steps around Spencer’s body, sighing. If Hell has made him cruel, it’s also made him weirdly just. Great power, great responsibility… all that jazz.

Yeah, the powers are pretty fucking cool, he won’t lie about that.

The windshield of the car decompresses itself at Eddie’s touch, the glass creaking and groaning as it fits back into proper shape. From there, it glows bright orange and melts back into one solid pane of glass, back in the way that it had been before Spencer’s back played Happy New Year with it.

Eddie sits in the driver’s seat, his fingers nearly denting the steering wheel where he grips it. He just hopes that you don’t freak out when he gets your car back to you.

You freak out.

Granted, you only made the deal with Eddie yesterday, and you had a long day at work. For you, the afternoon had been painfully slow. Maybe it was a good thing that the diner doesn’t have a major rush every single lunch service, but it just means more of the shit work that your newbie manager, Colin, loves to give to you now that he has the authority to. You don’t know if it’s payback for you making him slice bread during his training, but he’s taking it a little bit too seriously.

You’re technically a waitress, so it’s really not in your fucking job description, but tonight he made you clean the men’s bathroom.

Did you know how many men will just ejaculate onto the wall of the men’s bathroom in a small town diner? No. But now you do, and the answer is too many.

You had to walk home, as per usual since your car was stolen a little less than a week ago. And then you got to your apartment complex, got to the last place on the last row of buildings, and your fucking car was there, in your parking space. Beautiful and gleaming and with fresh license plates.

You’re freaking out. You absolutely are– you didn’t think it was going to happen this quickly. You figured there must be some kind of wait period. Demons aren’t obligated to make shit happen right away, are they?

(They’re not. But this demon could care less.)

When you get inside, all it takes is a single whiff of smoke to deduce that he’s there. In your apartment. With all the lights turned off. You flick one on and find nothing.

“Eddie?” You say his name out loud for the first time, your voice muddled with awe. The faintest of murmurs, but to him you may as well have screamed it.

The lights flicker, and in a flash he’s standing before you. Across the room, leaning against the door to the bedroom like a vision. His eyes crackle with fire, a coy smirk on his face. “I like the way you say my name. It’s pretty.”

You startle, your body suddenly functioning apart from your mind. Your back hits the front door you’ve just stepped through, mirroring him.

“Whoa whoa whoa– hey! It’s okay.” He holds his hands out toward you, palms up, like you’re a frightened animal. In a way, you are. “We’ve been through this before, princess. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m just your friendly neighborhood demon.”

Eddie reminds himself to stop rewatching Spider-Man every time he gets a chance.

It has to be fake, you think. You’re exhausted, he couldn’t be here. And yet the room is filled with his fragrance, suffocating and somehow intoxicating. Like you might die from it but you’ll enjoy it all the same. It’s so magnetic that it nearly pulls you to him, taking a hesitant step forward toward the bedroom and then stopping short.

“How– you’re not– how are you here?” You ask him as softly as you can manage. “I thought you could only show up at a crossroads.”

“Not everything is literal, sweetheart.” He thumps his hand against the door behind him, giving you a dazed smile. “Points of entry and departure. Two paths meeting. Crossroads.”

“Huh.”

Eddie takes in the sight of you steadily, calmly, worried that if he moves too suddenly then you might disappear. You’re wearing a black, retro-style waitress’ dress and running shoes– muddy from your walk home. You clutch your house keys to your chest almost instinctively.

That reminds him of the reason that he’s here– not just to check you out, unfortunately. He brandishes your car keys, dangling them from one crooked finger. “Brought you your car.”

“Yeah, I, uh… I noticed.” After a heavy beat, you look away. Your voice is thick with tears– you’re crying. “Sorry. Thank you. I didn’t, um– I didn’t mean to offend–”

“Hey– You didn’t.” Eddie doesn’t know what to do with your tears– he doesn’t want to see you cry, ever, but he’s spent a little too much time causing tears to know how to effectively stop them anymore. He places the keys on the counter nearest him, leading into the kitchen. “I know, it’s not what you’re used to.”

“It’s not,” you agree. “It’s nice.”

Eddie rocks back against the door, pressing into it. The wood creaks under his weight. “Nice,” he echoes. “Haven’t been called that in a while. It’s… nice.”

You snort, and it’s enough to have him grinning all over again. You turn away slightly, and when you turn back you smile at him sheepishly. Trying to suck back the tears that had sprung forth so quickly. “How did you get the car back?”

He squints. He thinks to remind you that he has magic, something that a normal person wouldn’t be able to use– except, he didn’t just poof it into your parking space. He drove it, like a dumbass.

He clicks his tongue. Be cool. “I had a talk with the guy who stole it. He won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”

“Oh my god– you killed him?”

Not that cool. “No! No, I– I would nev–” you’re a demon– “I would seriously consider the consequences–”

“This is unbelievable.”

“Hey, I got you the car back. Without killing! Even though it took so so so much impulse control, please clap.” He tilts his head and grins at you. He figures he probably looks insane with his glowing eyes and cheshire cat smile.

You nod and take a calculated step forward. You point at the open wine bottle on your kitchen counter. “I’m getting a drink.”

He shrugs. “You own the place.”

“No, I don’t,” you scoff, approaching him. The scent of smoke grows stronger with each step, until you’re engulfed in it. “I pay rent up the ass because I can’t afford any place else.”

Eddie watches you pour a glass of wine with the interest of a collector looking at a piece of fine art. “What would you prefer?”

The air hangs thick with implication. What do you want me to do? Eddie holds the edge of the counter with his ringed fingers, watching your brow screw up in contemplation. He wants to reach forward and smooth it over with his thumb, get rid of any worries you might have.

He’s a sorry son of a bitch, is what he is.

“What I want–” you stop, your eyes falling to his hand. You stare at it for a long time. Hard knuckles that you’re sure have drawn blood, clunky rings like weapons. You wonder why he keeps them there indefinitely, why he chooses those accessories, keeps this form. He’s intimidating, dangerous-looking, and yet you feel a weird sort of comfort around him.

He’s the most dangerous thing in any room, and he’s asking what you want.

You look up into the demon’s smoldering eyes, and take a breath. “What I need is to not take home pocket change, because my shithead manager won’t stop skimming my tips. Y’know I trained the fucker?” Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah. Piece of shit won’t stop giving me crap work just because he can, and I’m– I’m–”

Eddie wordlessly nudges the wine glass towards you with the tip of his finger. You grab it and take a long gulp.

You sort of stutter and cough, trying to catch your breath when your tears of exhaustion keep wanting to spill. You’re furious. You’re so fucking angry that it’s vibrating in your bones, threatening to wither and crack them under its force. You start breathing in heavy, short bursts of air that don’t do much to calm you down at all.

“I’m barely making enough to cover my rent even with my tips,” you continue. “But now he’s stealing them and I’m having to skip breakfast to save food and I can’t find another job because the people in this town fucking hate me–”

A warm hand settles onto your back, heavy between your shoulder blades. A little bit of the tension in your shoulders melts and releases, but along with it comes the tears you were holding back. You shiver, leaning further into his touch as though it’ll ground you. Your sinuses are sore and your eyes sting as hot tears slide down your cheeks, but you let Eddie hold you up.

“Want me to kill that guy for you?” Eddie smirks when you cough out a little laugh that sounds more like a hiccup, but he’ll take it. “What? I’m so fucking serious. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you anymore. What kind of a demon daddy would I be if I did?”

“Shut up.” You bat his chest with the back of your hand. He chuckles, and the sound is as warm and soothing as his hand on your back. Your lip wobbles, your brow screwing up as you try to even out your voice, but you just come out sounding like you’ve got something stuck in your throat. “What are you, a genie with three wishes? I tell you my sorrows and you snap your fingers and fix it?”

“You get a lot more than three with me, sweetheart,” Eddie promises. His eyes are unwavering, his hand stroking lightly back and forth between your shoulders in a way that has you hypnotized, leaning towards him. “And it may take more than just snapping my fingers, but yes. I’ll do it for you.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re married, baby.” He holds your gaze gently, hoping not to upset you any further. “‘Til death do we part,’ right? We’re a team now. Your needs, my needs. That’s why you signed the contract. That’s why I gave you this.” Eddie’s warm hand ghosts over your wrist, and the mark that bears his name seared into your skin. The mark tingles, itching with recognition at his touch. “Just say the word and it’s yours.”

You’re still crying. Big, glossy tears falling down your cheeks, making him falter. He’s floundering. He doesn’t know how to make them stop, and the more he tries to get you to tell him, the harder they’re falling. You aren’t hyperventilating anymore, thank fuck, but you’re still quietly sobbing, and you’re not telling him what he needs to know.

Eddie tries searching for it. Squints at you, tries reaching into your mind to find what you need– sort of the same way that he saw the memory of you and the fucker who stole your car. All he gets is one repetitive thought, spinning around in the forefront of your mind.

Hold me. Hold me. Hold me.

“C’mere,” he tells you softly. Eddie reaches forward, turning you slowly by the shoulder until you’re facing him. He watches your face for any kind of disgust– there’s nothing, save the big tears that keep falling.

He pulls on your shoulder, just barely, and you crumple. You face plant into his chest and take a deep, shuddering breath that rattles in your lungs and tastes like a campfire. Eddie is warm as a space heater and his arms are strong, wrapped around you tightly to keep you from falling.

Eddie holds you until he feels you stop crying. He thinks. Maybe you’re still crying, but it isn’t shaking your entire body anymore, and he feels like that’s a move in the right direction.

“Just say the word,” he speaks into your hair, just loud enough for you to hear. A timid hand comes up to pet the back of your head. He hasn’t held someone like this in ages. “I can try to read your mind, but then I get the wrong idea, and you won’t like what I’ll do. I’m willing to do anything for you, honest. But y’gotta tell me, baby.”

You hesitate, and then you pull back, puckering your lips in a way that distracts him. He fixates on them, tilting his head as he watches the way they move. Remembering how they felt on his own when he kissed you last night. He hasn’t kissed someone in ages, either.

“No killing Colin,” you conclude, knocking him out of his reverie. He groans. “I’m serious! He’s a dick, but I don’t want that on my conscience. Please, Eddie.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“No.”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbles, pouting and stomping his feet. “But you wouldn’t feel that way if you saw the kind of torture we can whip out in ye olde Hell. Make your skin crawl right the fuck off. Ooh! That’s actually a good idea–”

“Maybe, sometime.” You shake your head. “But not now. Just… get him to quit. Or something. Okay?”

Your hand presses into Eddie’s chest. It feels like a blast straight into his infernal heart. His eyes fall to it, taking in the willing touch that you give him and letting it define his entire being for a second.

Oh, he’s in trouble. He’s really, really done for.

“Okay, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

His kiss is a ghost of a touch on your cheek, just barely a whisper of skin on skin. Just enough to make you gasp and nearly turn your head, to lock his lips with yours. You practically fight the urge to do it. Your heartbeat kicks up– not for the reason you think it should, either. You aren’t scared. He doesn’t make you nervous– at least, not in an uncomfortable way.

You want Eddie to press his lips to yours, and you want him to hold you again. You want him to stay indefinitely. Make a home on your couch and hold you in his lap all night. You think that if you asked him, he might do it. Anything you want, right?

But he pushes away from the kitchen counter, and he’s gone as quickly as he appeared, in a rush of air carrying his scent. With a sigh, you sink back on your heels, finding yourself wishing that his arms were still there around you, to catch you before you fall.

You lift your glass of wine to your lips. The imprint of his name still itches on your wrist.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #tdik!fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #demon!eddie munson #demon!eddie #roses*

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chthonic-sorcery · 5 months ago

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PSA for new Pagans❗️🚩🚩🚩

(Overlooked pagan holidays)

Paganism isn't a singular religion,

it is an umbrella term for thousands of different pre-christian polytheistic faiths that span Antiquity. Heathenry (Norse polytheism) Mesopotamian, Phonecian, Hellenic Polytheism, Kemeticism/Netjerism, Slavic Polytheism, Celtic, Roman, Basque, etc. It goes on and on. Sometimes, these religions are even combined or synchronized, like Greco-Egyptian polytheism.

So, no, not all pagans celebrate Yule, or Beltane, or whatever.

Yule itself seems to be more of a Wiccan (new age) revival than a continued tradition.

There are quite literally thousands of holidays and traditions celebrated that no one talks about because people, especially newer converts, seem to believe paganism is its own singular religion.

So, here are some of my favorite holidays I celebrate that aren't usually talked about:

The Anthesteria:

A 3 day drunken celebration in honor of Dionysus and the Dead. Houses would be decorated with spring flowers, ghosts swept from the home; feasting and drinking no matter your status, and offerings given to the Dead and the Furies so that may not harm you, as they were said to roam the earth at this time.

Tar/pitch was also spread onto doorframes and black hellebore was hung to protect the home.

It was held each year from the 11th to the 13th of the month of Anthesterion, around the time of the first full moon of the year.

The Haloea:

The closest Greek equivalent of "Yule" celebrating the winter solstice and which honored Demeter, the goddess of agriculture, crops, fertility, and harvest.

During the festival, people would celebrate by preparing a rich meal with dough cakes in the shape of genitalia, telling lusty jokes and swearing with vulgarity, singing, drinking, and dancing.

The festival took place in Athens and ended in Eleusis during the month of Poseideon, which is December.

The Dionysia:

where plays originated! Comedy, tragedy, and drama.

The Festival of Dionysus, otherwise known as the “Greater Dionysia” took place in the spring (around our March) when playwrights would compete to entertain Athenian citizens,

complete with parades of giant phalluses and sacrifices of bulls!

The Feat of Sekhmet:

an annual festival at the beginning of the year, which began around August for the Egyptians following Wep Ronpet, or the New Year.

The festival was a time of drunkeness with red beer and wine, where Egyptians would dance, play music.

The goal was to imitate the drunkenness that had once stopped the goddess Sekhmet from destroying humanity.

According to Egyptian mythology, Sekhmet became so bloodthirsty from humanity betraying her father Ra, that she nearly destroyed all humans on Earth. The other deities asked Ra to stop her, and he eventually pacified her by making her believe the wine or beer was blood and she drank herself to sleep, turning into either Hathor or Bastet.

the Aphrodisia:

The festival of Aphrodite! The festival occurred during the month of Hekatombaion, which modern scholars recognize as starting from the third week in July to the third week of August.

the first ritual of the festival would be to purify the temple with the blood from a dove, the sacred bird of Aphrodite. Afterwards, worshipers would carry sacred images of the goddess, as well as Peitho, in a procession to be washed.

During the festival it was not permitted to make bloody sacrifices, since the altar could not be polluted with the blood of the sacrifice victims, which were usually white male goats.

This of course excludes the blood of the sacred dove, made at the beginning of the ritual to purify the altar. In addition to live male goats, worshipers would offer fire, flowers, and incense.

This was even celebrated in Thebes, Egypt, where Aphrodite had a large cult following.

Wep Ronpet:

Wep Ronpet is the Kemetic New Year.

It falls usually somewhere btwn late July and mid-August. The date for Wep Ronpet varies each year, as it is marked by the rising of Sopdet, modernly known as Sirius. Wep Ronpet is in fact one day long.

However, there are 5 days of excitement leading up to Wep Ronpet that we typically call the Epagomenal Days, or the Intercalary Days.

The Epag. days came about from a myth where Nut got pregnant with 5 kids. Ra got upset about this and forbade her from giving birth on any day of the year. Thoth, being the tricky guy that he is played a game of Senet with the moon, and upon winning this game of Senet, he received a small portion of the moon which he used to create an extra 5 days which she can use to birth her five children.

Traditionally, these days are said to be a little weird because they are ‘outside of the norm’. Usually great care was taken not to take too many risks.

So, each day is dedicated to the god that was born on that particular day. The order that it goes in is:

Osiris

Heru-wer (Horus the Elder)

Set

Aset

Nebhet (Nephthys)

Normally, celebrations of Wep Ronpet include prayers to Sekhmet against the 7 arrow or plagues of the year: libations and offerings to the Netjeru, song, dance, feast.

Ritual bathing for purification is sometimes done afterwards.

Personally, I like to perform execration, banishing all the illness, negativity and harm from the previous and coming year.

#ancient history #hellenic pagan #paganism #paganblr #psa #polytheism #Greco egyptian polytheism #ancient greece #pagan community #dionysus #aphrodite #sekhmet #new year #hellenic polytheism #hellenic deities #hellenic polythiest #helpol

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flowerchild28 · 1 month ago

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Black and White

Louis Tomlinson imagine

Warnings: fluff

1.3k

The Beginning

The coffee shop buzzed with quiet chatter, but you were focused on your laptop, the untouched cappuccino beside you cooling quickly.

Louis entered, scanning for a seat. His usual spot was taken, so he hesitated before approaching your table. “Mind if I sit here?” he asked with a small smile.

Startled, you nodded. “Sure.”

You quickly returned to your work, but his presence was impossible to ignore. After a few moments, he broke the silence. “Work stuff?”

You looked up, flustered. “Yeah, kind of.”

The conversation started awkwardly but soon grew natural. He was charming, witty, and had a knack for making you laugh. Days turned into weeks, and his presence at the coffee shop became routine. He'd sit across from you, making every mundane detail seem interesting.

One chilly afternoon, Louis leaned back, his gaze softer than usual. “I keep coming here for the coffee… but mostly for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

He nodded. “I’d like to spend more time with you. If you’re up for it.”

A smile spread across your face. “I’d like that.”

And just like that, the start of something beautiful began.

A Year In

It had been a year since that first coffee shop conversation, and the warmth between you and Louis had only grown. Tonight, you were curled up on the couch, sharing a blanket and a bowl of popcorn as a romantic comedy played on the TV.

Louis laughed at the over-the-top wedding scene on screen, nudging you playfully. “Think you’d ever go for something like that? A big, dramatic entrance, doves flying everywhere?”

You smirked, tossing a popcorn kernel at him. “Please, I’d trip walking down the aisle. And doves? They’d probably attack someone.”

“Noted,” he said, grinning. “Low-key wedding it is. I’ll wear sneakers.”

“Wait, you’re planning our wedding now?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, his blue eyes sparkling. “Maybe. You’d look pretty good in white, though.”

The comment hung in the air for a moment, light yet full of meaning. You laughed, trying to play it off, but your cheeks flushed.

“Well,” you said, nudging him back, “you better make sure you don’t trip either. I’d hate to marry someone with a bruised nose.”

Louis chuckled, pulling you closer. “Deal. But only if you’re the one at the end of the aisle.”

The future suddenly felt closer than ever.

Kitchen dances

The late afternoon sunlight poured through the window as Louis wandered into the kitchen, drawn by the faint sound of music and the scent of something cooking. There you were, in the middle of the floor, twirling and singing along to Black and White by Niall Horan, completely lost in the moment.

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. He waited until you hit the high note with exaggerated passion before chiming in.

“Didn’t know I was dating a backup singer for Niall.”

You froze mid-spin, whipping around to see him watching you with amusement. “Louis!” you exclaimed, yanking out an earbud, your face instantly flushing. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know you’re really into this song,” he teased, stepping closer. “What’s the deal? Secretly a big fan of his or something?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Oh my God, this is so embarrassing. He’s your friend!”

Louis chuckled, gently prying your hands away. “Relax, love. I think it’s cute.”

“It’s just… it’s such a good song,” you admitted, your cheeks still warm. “I love, love, love it. The lyrics, the vibe—everything about it feels so perfect.”

He tilted his head, his grin widening. “So, you’re telling me you’ve been having a little Niall concert in here every time I’m not home?”

“Maybe,” you muttered, crossing your arms but unable to hide your smile.

Louis couldn’t stop laughing now, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into a spin. “You know I have to tell him, right? ‘Hey, mate, my girlfriend’s your number one kitchen dancer.’”

“No, you absolutely do not,” you said, poking his chest, but your laughter betrayed you.

“Alright, alright,” he said, smirking. “But only if you admit that, as good as the song is, you’d pick dancing with me over Niall’s voice any day.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Fine, you win. You’re the better dance partner.”

“Damn right I am,” he quipped, swaying with you in time to the music still playing softly from your headphones.

The Wedding

The venue was a dream—an open garden bathed in the golden light of early evening. Fairy lights twinkled in the trees, casting a soft glow over rows of friends and family, all waiting eagerly. At the altar, Louis stood in a navy suit that perfectly fit his cheeky yet charming demeanor. His trademark grin softened into something deeper as he fiddled with his tie, sneaking glances down the aisle.

Then the music began.

Every head turned as you stepped into view, your dress flowing gracefully, your smile nervous yet radiant. Louis froze, his breath catching in his chest. For a split second, the world seemed to hold its breath too. As you reached him, your hand found his, his touch grounding you.

“You’re lucky I didn’t trip,” you whispered, a playful glint in your eye.

“You’d still be the most stunning person here,” he murmured, squeezing your hand.

The officiant welcomed everyone, setting the stage for a ceremony filled with love and laughter. When it came time for the vows, Louis went first, his voice steady but brimming with emotion.

“Y/N, I knew I was in trouble the second I saw you in that coffee shop. You were too focused, too smart, and way too good at ignoring me.” The guests laughed, and Louis smirked. “But you let me sit with you, and that one moment changed everything.

“In the past year, you’ve made my life brighter, my jokes funnier because you actually laugh at them, and my kitchen dances so much better. I promise to keep making you laugh, to save you the last slice of pizza—even if it kills me—and to always remind you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, endlessly.”

You laughed through your tears, shaking your head at his perfect mix of humor and heart. Taking a deep breath, you began your vows.

“Louis, from the moment you scared me half to death by asking to share my table, you’ve been unforgettable. You’ve made every day feel special—whether it’s with your silly jokes, your endless support, or that ridiculous way you sing Niall’s songs off-key just to annoy me.” Louis raised a brow, grinning as the crowd laughed.

“But more than that, you’ve made me feel safe, seen, and loved in ways I didn’t know I needed. I promise to always dance in the kitchen with you, to put up with your terrible driving directions, and to remind you every day how much you mean to me. I love you, endlessly.”

The officiant pronounced you husband and wife, and as Louis dipped you for a dramatic, laughter-filled kiss, the crowd erupted in cheers.

Later at the reception, just as you thought the night couldn’t get any better, Louis grabbed a microphone, flashing that mischievous grin. “Alright, love, I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

Before you could ask, the lights dimmed, and a familiar voice filled the room. Niall Horan himself strolled onto the stage with a guitar in hand.

Your jaw dropped as he smiled at you. “Heard this one’s your favorite,” he said, winking.

The opening chords of Black and White filled the air, and Niall’s soulful voice swept through the crowd. Louis pulled you onto the dance floor, holding you close as you swayed to the song.

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked up at him. “You did this for me?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice warm. “Anything for the girl who makes me believe in forever.”

I hope you like it. If got a lot of requests lately and im trying my best to write them as fast as possible.

#louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson imagine #louis tomlinson fluff #louis tomlinson imagines #one direction #louis tomlinson x reader #louis tomlinson x you #self ship imagine #imagine #niall horan #niall horan imagine #louis tommo #tommo way

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takami-takami · 1 year ago

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Like Idiots.

includes— hawks x reader. fluff. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader. pining like idiots. keigo is a pain in the ass. the reader is worse. i had fun with this. <3

There is zero need for Keigo to make a confession when it comes to his crush. It would be entirely redundant to confess.

Your sigh at the thought is palpable. It really is quite a shame.

Part of you yearns for that passionate drama of an ending, where in some novela-inspired twist of fate, your adoring knight is forced to spill his love at your feet. In your daydreams— the ones dreadfully reminiscent of some lovelorn teenager's— a faceless villain from fuck-all-nowhere nearly ends the life of his beloved hero partner.

And the words spill from his throat like his lovesick sobs, clutching you close to his chest while you do your best to pretend you're not biting back a smile at the attention.

"I love you! I've always loved you," he'd cry.

Or something like that.

And you'd kiss, and sparks would fly, or whatever.

End scene.

You're not getting that confession, though.

It figures your love life would turn out to be a comedy. Par for the course of your life, you suppose.

Instead of a scrawled letter sealed with wax or a poem whispered under the imposing moonlight, your confession is written all over Keigo's face— well, not all over, exactly. Every centimeter of his face conceals his emotions meticulously, flawlessly.

Every portion of his face is perfectly practiced and impeccably controlled; except for two measly little points.

You prod at your food again with your fork in hand, all frowns as you sit across from your work partner in a booth at the diner he likes to drag you to on your lunch breaks.

And you stare uncomfortably into the most cartoonishly blown pupils you've ever seen.

"Um. Hawks?"

"Yeah? What's up, chickadee," he asks sincerely before chomping down messily on a battered chicken drum, moaning and letting his eyes fall shut as he does with every meal— typically an obstacle for your focus, this accidentally whorish display is actually a welcome reprieve from your racing thoughts.

When his eyes flutter open once more, you're faced once again with black saucers and the sound of reckless chewing. His pupils are still dilated like a cat tripping balls on the dealer's finest catnip.

"Hawks, I really think I should tell you that—"

Your intervention is rudely interrupted by a waitress in a 50's style apron and folded paper hat combo, likely rushing over notepad in hand to get first dibs on serving a celebrity.

You would prefer to be unfair. It'd be easier to displace your frustration for your lot in life onto this poor woman, to tell her that her hat looks stupid and pink isn't her color, that she should really just stop trying.

You decide to be an adult.

Keigo, on the other hand, does not. Like a child given free reign to order for himself at a restaurant for the first time, he explains that she should really heap on the sugar for his coffee.

"No, no, no. More than that. Like syrup. I want it to taste like it's gonna put me in an early grave and— wait, where are you going?"

The debacle brings to attention another phenomenon that you've grown accustomed to seeing:

The second his gaze meets her's, Keigo's pupils shrink to points once more, constricting to tight dots before bouncing back to their natural size. And predictably, once again, they expand like blown glass when you catch his attention.

"Hawks!"

"Yeah, what?"

His chewing ceases obnoxiously, chicken drum in his right hand and half-chewed remains in his left cheek.

You might as well rip it off like a bandaid. You let out a puff of air.

"Your eyes," you attempt to gently point out.

"Mm?" Keigo's head tilts to the side, pondering your observation for a moment.

"My eyes? Ohh," he drags his words as if in realization, treating himself to another chomp into the drumstick. "You gettin' lost in them, huh? Happens, dove. You can stare, I don't mind."

"No!" You squeak out your denial before smoothing down your shirt and tipping your chin high.

You have the upper hand here. Remember that.

"I mean," you correct your course, staring down and poking at your plate while a smile creeps up your lips. "It's kinda hard not to when your pupils look like they're gonna swallow your goddamn irises."

The silence that follows is deafening.

"Kei'?" You flick your gaze up toward him, worried now.

Under normal circumstances, it's an established habit for Keigo to slot one palm over his mouth when called out.

But this time, that hand bypasses his lips, crawling upward to reach his visor and wordlessly drag it down over the source of his shame.

A stronger person than you would hold back their laughter. They would take pity on the flush rising over his cheeks and neck like sunsets. Perhaps they would coo praises to soothe him, or even take it all back to ease the shame and discomfort that makes him feel utterly naked.

They would take pity on the man who, under the fluorescent high beams bolted to the diner's ceiling, looks just like a clown tripping on stage with the spotlight shined on his face.

You are not a strong person.

In your hysterics, you reach over to pry the barrier off his eyes, climbing into his lap and over him like tussling teenagers.

"Keigo, I didn't say it was a bad thing—"

"You're laughing," he laments like a kicked puppy, prying your face an arm's length from his with a single palm.

It's over. This is it for him. His life is over, he's going to have to change his identity.

He can start fresh with a new hero name, one not centered around red-tailed hawks— he'll need to rebrand as another bird, most likely. Preferably one with the same signature red feathers so as not to make a fuss for the merch department.

Maybe a parrot.

Winged-Hero Parrots.

"You're laughing at me!"

"I'm not laughing at—" another uncontrollable wheeze. His wings flap in indignance once, slamming against the cushions of the pink diner seat before drooping down like a dog's tail between its legs. You pluck the visor and raise it above your head out of arm's reach, one hand planted against his chest for stability.

"Not laughing at you! Baby, I promise—"

"Baby?" He repeats.

The silence is worse the second time around— but luckily for you, Keigo is a stronger person than you are. No laughter erupts from his chest, no smirk settles on his face.

If anything, your slip up seems to elevate his heart rate more than yours.

"We really should—"

"I think we need to—"

Both sentences collide in the small space between you, his lips completely still and mere inches away from yours.

You're reminded of the feeling of your fingertips about to touch metal after being charged with static, the skin crackling with the air's tension as you contemplate whether to just get it over with and touch.

And slowly, as if suddenly cognizant of your bodies and environment, you both crawl off each other and scoot toward the furthest edges of the booth seat.

Your knees make their way toward your chest for comfort, while Keigo's wings drape over his shoulders like a cocoon.

"We should talk."

#🖋 writing #🍧 sugar #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader

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joannasteez · 5 months ago

Text

the aftermath

pairing: tattooist!cm punk x reader warning: mentions of needles, and biting, and explicit descriptions and dialogue pertaining to sex. tattooist!punk (this warning is more for me cuz he makes me delusional sometimes) authors note: nothing really. just enjoy! if so, don't be afraid to let me know! inspired by @kill-the-artiste master class in ✨tension✨… please go read. RUN NOT WALK! word count: 3500 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling @2-muchsauce

in for a penny of pain, in for a beauty by the pound

@ WARNING: all work is of quality but more importantly is done with respect to the bodies health and limits

the way your apartment window faces, you never get the sun till a ways after high noon. so no. this isn't your apartment. exhaustion playing in your legs. a good, sated, tired ache. like if you bend or extend too much too quick they'll cave in and collapse without warning. they'll remind you of how horrible it is, to make assumptions about a perceived strength. especially when it's so obvious that you aren't ready to leave the cool touch of his sheets. his. oh shit. because the bedroom in your apartment doesn't get much sun with the way it faces and it for damn sure isn't cream colored and littered with wood framed portraits. memory like a teasing trickle in of rain. little droplets collecting—his teeth grazing, the patient mischief of a wolf, sinking in to pull skin—till they ripple and pool together. a throb of something journeying to live between your thighs, swirling till it breaches skin again in an effect to make you shiver, to make you shift against the sheets because he,—"you can't stay still for shit can you?"—that's what he'd said. making rough impressions in your thick soft skin. holding and groaning and amused. buried amidst the pillow of your inner thighs, eager tongue dipping to lick against the desperate pulse of your clit. whimpers and moans and near shrill begging, and—oh God—your stomach swirls. embarrassment this deep exhale as your head falls in your hands.

and for a second, the world plummets into something disgusting. a disturbing shade of gray. laughter breaking beyond the crack open of the bedroom door. because he could be laughing at you right? mulling over and recounting the events of the night with a buddy and having a go at making you miserable enough to delight in some fucked sort of amusement at the helpless way you moaned and teared for him. but thats not what it is. it's quiet chatter and early morning comedy. little hums of his early day coarse voice and a bold, earthy warmth. coffee. your mouth watering and the emptiness in your belly going about a great terrible violence as it growls and shudders. a hickory note of something twisting the air, the back of your throat dry, and seemingly—well...not seemingly, because that sort of implies some lack in surety. you'd made good, disgusting, honest, work of voicing just how much fun you were having. that much you remember, and fortunately, you remember everything. alcohol forgone for the sake of lucidity. because you know what he is. a buddy of yours just as clean and straightedged.

in a fuller state of honesty, it'd be accurate to say it was all like form of reverence. an eagerness to please. anything if it meant him peeling your jeans off quickly. and yes, he'd done it. but it was more patient than you'd wanted. like he was reciprocating that reverence. studying and planning.

his dresser draws are wooden, much like the rest of his decor. a polished mahogany that brings more warmth to the room.

rolled up t-shirts sorted in no particular fashion, the fit of it snug as it falls over.

at the corner foot of the dresser lays last nights underwear. a predetermined pick. simple, and black and lacy. nearly tattered to bits because his patience had eventually reached a max capacity before he dove headfirst into being a damn brute.

underwear is a hot commodity when you ball on a budget. he owes you.

you sift for something reasonable. a checkered pair of boxer briefs that fit more like boy-shorts, but it works. slipping your jeans over them. and his bathroom isn't so much huge but it is lived in. comfortable. the tiles, a sage green with minor cracks made more from age than from some man made disruption.

and thank God almighty. he's not the three-in-one type. a wash cloth and a toothbrush laying lonely along the bathroom counter, separate from the other things. you hum. going about a quick wash up.

and whats that saying? it's only awkward if you make it awkward. because hell, there was nothing tricky or particularly delicate about fucking your tattooist right? you could do a small stint away. go cold turkey from your favorite past time. a silent walk of semi-shame and a few months till your next appointment would do the trick. enough time to forget such a destructive allure living with his words and the way he said—"you been waitin for this for a while huh? so pretty, lettin me touch you"—things. his every expression an accusation. exposing the unspoken things living behind just barely placid eyes. desires, fantasies and half baked plots for his attention.

the pain of a needle is no worser than this. cant be. cant be worser than the creak of the floors, announcing your entrance to the kitchen. his little chuckling smile forming less loose and more attentive as he drinks you in. an unabashed performance of observation that makes the skin crawl. a shiver really. green eyes cool, heavy, and exacting, like metal. like the prick of his needles. wandering with ease—your jean dressed legs, a clinging t-shirt that rides up some as you walk and the slow but sure appearance of indentations about your neck that indicate his penchant for tasting, biting —while stuck between a casual, early morning call and your performance of feigning indifference.

he hums. a response to whoever is holding him over the phone. tongue slipping over his bottom lip before he's turning back to the stove.

coffee sits in a mug littered with dog breeds. the steam of it curling up thick. a plate half dressed next to it. just finished buttered toast and still hot eggs. his arm reaching over to drop bacon on it. teeth baring as he laughs into his call. flits of his eyes that motion for you to eat. stationing to lean against the long stretch of marble that makes up the kitchen island. a focused attention. assessing your quiet take to indulging in whatever this is. because he didn't need to make you breakfast, didn't need to brew you coffee and leave you comfortably tucked in the sheets. but then again, he'd more than generously put you to sleep. wore your nerves and bones down. rendered you to a bout of tears even. yeah. he owes you breakfast. your fork digging into the eggs. and a new pair of damn underwear.

"yeah, i need you opening up shop for me today...", he gives. a sweet, feminine voice sighing deeply over the other end. loud and long enough to reach you. something in your stomach swirling odd and quite disgusting. sharp and twisted up. "...i'll be a little late, got caught up in something this morning...", the folding over of the words along his tongue giving your skin a chill. a ride of a shiver up your back. his eyes slipping over your face. a pale green leaving their edged, assessing, impressions. "...i owe you one...alright...", his thumb tapping the screen to end the call.

the bacon is salty on the tongue. satisfies the nothingness on your palette. your fork poking dumbly. like you'll find brilliant words amidst the plate. a sick little smirk on his mouth. loving your inability to look at him without wavering.

why in the absolute hell did you fuck this man? the fit of his boxer briefs odd under your jeans. poorly shaped to hips and thighs, the material not made to take that kind of stretch.

"you owe me new underwear...", that declaration of it too feathered. not strong enough. not sure. his lips spreading more. joy taking his face up wholly. feeling it as he casts his eyes over you. "...i'll send a receipt or something...".

"noted. how do you like to take it?"

excuse me? your throat drying up. fingers clutching the fork tight. your belly flipping stupidly quick. too damn excitable.

"what?"

the mug of coffee he'd poured for you in his hand. the sugar jar close by. spoon ready to be used for it's stirring purpose. an elation pouring from his cheeks that makes you want to curl in. "coffee". a slow, near patronizing reiteration. "how do you like to take your coffee".

"oh...", breath a little caught in your throat. the unsettled frenzy under skin an oddity. because this very regular, slightly older, very good looking, self assured man, shouldn't have such an affect. "..um...a little sugar, a lot of cream".

and he does it to perfection. listens and performs. giving short flits of his eyes to yours. stirring and assessing. an appraisal. your neck heating from the sensation of being examined. satisfaction brightening him up at such rough handy work made the night before. smug fucking asshole. that curling scrape of the spoon against coffee filled porcelain winding up your curiosities to a nagging degree. sensitivities under the skin too plain and forthright to ignore. too well suited actually. like they've taken up a comfortable residence after just one night of being made pliant. had others felt this way once upon a time? sat where you sit now? being made by themselves to snuff out the disgusting giddiness of some post-night spectacle. a green, rotten, world of a feeling in the pit of your stomach now.

"do you—...", finding the phrasing, forming properly on the tongue, "...you usually get caught up in... things...like this?"

a scoff but it's fully amused. his lips spreading, a chuckle slipping into words. "is that a 'do i regularly fuck my clients question', cause if so then no". the mug sliding along the marble island. coffee prepped pluming thick still. "you're the first. congrats".

this fucking guy. "oh?" that bite of irony in him, troubling the skin playfully, as if to lure you out from behind that disconcerting wall you've so diligently built, in an attempt to evade him. his eyes and that little smirk he feels the need to keep along his mouth. "i didn't realize you were some sort of prize".

his head tilts, gaze slipping up and over and about. appraisal again. the look you give at the arrival of an object of affection, desire after some time. a satisfaction born from the restoration of a familiar, comfortable thing. your jaw shifting soft as you chew. lips pursing over the mug to sip tenderly. a drip of coffee falling off and away from your mouth. his pace quick as he plucks a napkin to hand you.

"i mean...", his body leaning in against the island. elbows pressing to the marble to bring him closer. his hair a little messy and untamed. "...i don't think so, but you were lettin a lot loose last night. little noises and such. i figured you were just so happy and satisfied...", grabbing his own mug to sip from. delighting in the silence, in the astonishment his teasing is leaving you to settle in. "...felt like you'd won something".

your cheeks are warm. hot even. stomach suddenly full off of his domestic efforts of a hot breakfast. your fingers gingerly pushing the plate away towards him, but the pull and roll of your eyes speak of something a little more heated than some gingered, cautioned disposition. his cockiness doing awful work. irking your nerves and reeling you in just the same. and maybe it's your turn to appraise. to examine and assess. his early morning, kitchen attire very obviously calculated enough to bring about some dead-brained, teenaged, short circuiting. chest shirtless and his legs covered in mesh shorts. arms tatted and muscled. grays and dark brown hair like a fine patch work on his face. admirable things of course, but you've already, obviously, given yourself away in revealing how much of it you find appealing. he doesn't need more.

an attempt to bruise should work. if not successful, at least give it a go right?

"you were alright", you shrug. chest hammering, near implosion. his eyes casting down, daring for an evasion. "i give it an A minus. there's always room for improvement".

"ouch", he laughs. a wide, bright, light expression. dumping your finished plate into the sink. "if i knew i was getting tested on performance, i'd have strove for higher marks...". sipping from his mug again. a head shake to express disagreement. "...but some of the judgement here is a bit range-less...doesn't really grasp the full effect of my—"

"dick?"

you stiffen just after the leave of it. a thought never meant to be expelled but here you are, fighting the urge to curl in and hold your head. heart beating terribly hard. embarrassment rife.

"...capabilities...but now i see where your heads at. i think this is grounds for some rescoring. you're impaired".

"by what exactly?"

he hums. that head tilt again. "you were a little eager last night, which, given how long you been wantin and schemin, is very understandable, but those good, true bits of judgement are from how well you can savor it right? you gotta stop and smell those roses".

you scoff. "scheming is a reach".

his eyes roll. pushing off the edge of the island. "an observation". shuffling back slightly to make a bodies worth of space. his hand motioning. "come here".

"for what—"

"please", like he's sweetening the give of a request. an appeal. like he knows just the chord to strum to produce the work of some easier follow through.

eyes softer but exacting. a clever lure in. like last night. like when he fit and slotted his mouth against yours and breathed deeply. fingers gentler and patient, pushing in to soothe the quake of your thighs. your body undone beneath him. performing a beautiful release with the song of all those little noises he couldn't help but to bring up now for his amusement. palms slipping between your legs then for more. to spread and curl. a dangerously steady feed in, swirling along the tender beginning of your pussy. toying and prodding, suckling your neck, and then a knuckle deep stroke that sorely excites already sensitive nerves. your legs pressing in to trap him to a stillness. his mouth at your ear. hot breaths, your skin shivering. a kiss to the shell of it before his delicate "please". that manner of request unfolding your legs easy. the simplicity of it forcing you to moan for him as he'd sought to take more from you.

your thighs press together hard, memory bursting till its coursing along every bit of skin. but you don't make to indulge him. testing the waters of this defiance. because he's obviously looking to stretch some authoritative muscle. "open, spread, be still", those the tender taste of his commands filling your mouth as he kissed you last night, and in your daze you complied swiftly. as eager as he'd said you did. the whole of him used to control. used to finely straddling lines of danger and succeeding well. what with his needles and their sharp, biting impressions. so no, you don't move, letting the thickness of the air settle deeper. playing at a naive rebellion done only by fragile little prey thought invincible. because this is it, isn't it? the thing that gets him going. sets his bones hot and fingers achy.

it's a finger over licks of a fire, a push of the limit after already being burnt to a beautiful consumption. your brows pulling. hands palming your knees tight. "you bite".

he smirks. bares teeth. steps calm to cover the distance. the patience of a wolf. "only upon request".

his island chair is one that swivels. a short creak breaking as you turn to face him. laughing breathy, wry, shifting in place, searching for comfortability under the weight of his presence. his hard body slotting between your thighs. coffee on his tongue as he nears, mouth ghosting shy. his nose slipping at yours. a hard swallow in your throat as you feel him press in to wedge you against the chair and the island. "i never asked", a little docility to your voice. adverting your eyes, closing them, to refuse his own, another small performance. something refractory. his chest warm as you press forward into him. a hot hand running up along your back till its situating to cradle your nape.

"you didn't oppose".

his teeth sinking in to pull at your bottom lip. sharp enough for an abrupt wince. attempting to pry yourself from his grip, that palm at the base of your neck strong. corrective. short breaths huffing into his mouth as he kisses your lip. a light play at a remedy. the affection of it sweet and dotting enough that you rush in for more, much to his sudden displeasure. his throat humming, the confirmation of some long standing observation. the column of your neck warm from the run of his free thumb. that slip of a touch shivering you whole. hands gripping into the waist band of his shorts. knuckles aching. a terrible make at reprieve.

"being skittish is just a natural little condition of yours huh?"

"no". your voice airy. feathered for him.

"so just with me then?...", skimming his mouth at your cheek. a simple kiss to the apple of it. "...cause i can't really give you what you need when you're all excitable and eager like this...". another lingering kiss at the corner of your mouth. "...need some patience".

a near unbreathable daze forms about your head. eyes dim. the scent of him filling your nose till its blooming in your lungs. fingers curling and sweeping and releasing along his skin. at old tattoos and taut muscle. a pulse at the heart of your thighs that teeters your nerves on the verge of inconsolable. his fingers squeezing perfect at your neck. a purr of a moan in your mouth. "what else do i need?"

his mouth slots for a full kiss, done up with breath and purpose. your palms holding firm at his waist for stability as he pulls you in. "a little direction". his tongue peaking to slip. a lazy lick at yours. your breath hitching at the wet curl of it. lips parting to receive. smirking as you whimper against him. "don't need you gettin distracted, then all of your attention gets eaten up by trivial little shit. you start making the real poor decisions then".

"like pepsi logo tattoos...", you muse. "...and fucking your tattooist raw...", a languid, tongue filled kiss. air harsh through the nose to make up for the overtake of his mouth. the slipping noise of it lewd to the ears. makes your skin hot. hotter. urges erupting sure. a fragile hiss playing off your mouth, his teeth finding refuge over your lip again. a grunted moan hitting the air. his hands tucked under your knees, rushing to pull your thighs in, body at the edge of the island chair. you feed your tongue in again. eagerness unabated. "...you're not the first man with too many gray hairs trying to be my handler...", a snicker thats more like a scoff. a teasing tug at the waist band of his shorts again. making to release him but never getting to it. his mouth at your chin and your jaw, nipping and licking into your neck. "...i make your dick harder just a little more than all the others so now you want to manage me? make sure no one else is gettin in on this huh?..."

he digs into your leg. a harsh pinch that makes you jerk into him. "i'd only be offended if you didn't like me so much, didn't wanna fuck me so badly", his nose knocking into yours again. a bruising kiss by the firm pull of his lips. "something tells me you like a little correction...", a hand keeps your thigh cinched to him and the other releases your other leg to journey near the zipper of your jeans. "...being commended".

his middle and ring fingers venture between. a faint circling where your jeans cover over the throb of your clit. the pace and patience of his touching and his mouth quaking your bones. irritated with an eagerness he seems to want to handle so insistently.

his phone rings.

you whine in protest. the slip away of him abrupt and emptying as he fishes for the phone.

"relax", he muses. kissing the corner of your mouth.

but he answers anyways. settles into the call so much till his brows pull. a focus that leads into that faithful disappointment of having to prioritize. green eyes casting over. taking stock of your face. his thumb soothing your lip, just where he'd bitten.

the emptiness grows, occupying this shitty liminal space. and it only gets worse. the neediness he'd corralled snuffed out quick. something about "forgotten early appointments" and "taking you where you need to go".

there are many valuable little notes to give to the self. an unwieldy feeling under the skin as you make to get your belongings. going about a terrible attempt of acting like he wasn't just about to give you a three-peat of last nights little fun. so close to feeling all of him just meticulously fed into you.

the biggest note of all though. toughing your shoes on. annoyance playing unabashed. don't fuck your tattooist.

#joannasteez #cm punk #cm punk fanfiction #cm punk fanfic #cm punk fic #cm punk x reader #cm punk x black reader #cm punk x fem reader #implied plus size reader #tattoo au

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animusrox · 1 month ago

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Golden Globes Nominations - TELEVISION

Best Television Series – Drama

The Day of the Jackal (Peacock) The Diplomat (Netflix) Mr. & Mrs. Smith (Prime Video) Shogun (FX/Hulu) Slow Horses (Apple TV+) Squid Game (Netflix)

Best Television Series – Musical Or Comedy

Abbott Elementary (ABC) The Bear (FX/Hulu) The Gentlemen (Netflix) Hacks (HBO/Max) Nobody Wants This (Netflix) Only Murders in the Building (Hulu)

Best Television Limited Series, Anthology Series or Motion Picture Made For Television

Baby Reindeer (Netflix) Disclaimer (Apple TV+) Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story (Netflix) The Penguin (HBO/Max) Ripley (Netflix) True Detective: Night Country (HBO/Max)

Best Performance by a Female Actor in a Television Series – Drama

Kathy Bates (Matlock) Emma D’arcy (House of the Dragon) Maya Erskine (Mr. & Mrs. Smith) Keira Knightley (Black Doves) Keri Russell (The Diplomat) Anna Sawai (Shogun)

Best Performance by a Male Actor in a Television Series – Drama

Donald Glover (Mr. & Mrs. Smith) Jake Gyllenhaal (Presumed Innocent) Gary Oldman (Slow Horses) Eddie Redmayne (The Day of the Jackal) Hiroyuki Sanada (Shogun) Billy Bob Thornton (Landman)

Best Performance by a Female Actor in a Television Series – Musical or Comedy

Kristen Bell (Nobody Wants This) Quinta Brunson (Abbott Elementary) Ayo Edebiri (The Bear) Selena Gomez (Only Murders in the Building) Kathryn Hahn (Agatha All Along) Jean Smart (Hacks)

Best Performance by a Male Actor in a Television Series – Musical or Comedy

Adam Brody (Nobody Wants This) Ted Danson (A Man on the Inside) Steve Martin (Only Murders in the Building) Jason Segel (Shrinking) Martin Short (Only Murders in the Building) Jeremy Allen White (The Bear)

Best Performance by a Female Actor in a Limited Series, Anthology Series or a Motion Picture Made for Television

Cate Blanchett (Disclaimer) Jodie Foster (True Detective: Night Country) Cristin Milioti (The Penguin) Sofía Vergara (Griselda) Naomi Watts (Feud: Capote Vs. The Swans) Kate Winslet (The Regime)

Best Performance by a Male Actor in a Limited Series, Anthology Series or a Motion Picture Made for Television

Colin Farrell (The Penguin) Richard Gadd (Baby Reindeer) Kevin Kline (Disclaimer) Cooper Koch (Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story) Ewan McGregor (A Gentleman in Moscow) Andrew Scott (Ripley)

Best Performance by a Female Actor in a Supporting Role on Television

Liza Colón-Zayas (The Bear) Hannah Einbinder (Hacks) Dakota Fanning (Ripley) Jessica Gunning (Baby Reindeer) Allison Janney (The Diplomat) Kali Reis (True Detective: Night Country)

Best Performance by a Male Actor in a Supporting Role on Television

Tadanobu Asano (Shogun) Javier Bardem (Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story) Harrison Ford (Shrinking) Jack Lowden (Slow Horses) Diego Luna (La Máquina) Ebon Moss-Bachrach (The Bear)

Best Performance in Stand-Up Comedy on Television

Jamie Foxx (Jamie Foxx: What Had Happened Was) Nikki Glaser (Nikki Glaser: Someday You’ll Die) Seth Meyers (Seth Meyers: Dad Man Walking) Adam Sandler (Adam Sandler: Love You) Ali Wong (Ali Wong: Single Lady) Ramy Youssef (Ramy Youssef: More Feelings)

#golden globes #golden globes 2025 #82nd golden globe awards #award shows #news #tv #television #tv shows

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chickenkurage · 2 months ago

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"The worst caretaker…...DJ Welch himself" (Farmer AU)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Summary: Alan had some errands to attend to and left the hollow pineapples in DJ's care. He trusted DJ implicitly; after all, he had proven his reliability with the apples. Surely, DJ could handle looking after the hollow pineapples... or so Alan thought.

Tag: Comedy, Humor, Slight Hurt/Injury (mostly DJ)

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"Hey, where are you headed?" DJ asked, tearing his attention away from the TV, with Red and Green engrossed in the movie on his lap, while Yellow and Blue dozed on his left leg.

"Oh, just running some errands. This means I'll need to entrust the pineapples to you," Alan explained, flashing a small smile as DJ heaved a sigh.

"You know I can't handle the chaos those four bring," DJ deadpanned. "Well, three, Vic isn't that wild... yet," he added, a shiver running down his spine, prompting a raised eyebrow from Alan.

"I trust you won't let them come to harm. The apples can be just as unruly," Alan remarked, tilting his head as DJ chuckled, gently petting the heads of Green and Red, eliciting soft 'meep' sounds from the pair.

"Well, they can be chill if they want to... but how long will you be gone exactly?" DJ raised an eyebrow, prompting a thoughtful hum from Alan. "I'm not entirely sure, but rest assured, I'll be back sooner than you can imagine," Alan reassured, flashing a grin as DJ scratched his head, mulling over the timeframe.

"Well," DJ began tentatively, his voice slightly higher as he debated internally. "Meep?" Second peeked out from the wall, prompting all four apples on DJ's lap to spring up excitedly and leap off the sofa. "There they go... ugh, fine, I'll take care of them," DJ groaned, resigned to the task as Alan let out a small laugh.

"Thanks, DJ. I knew I could rely on you," Alan chuckled, shaking his head as Second hoisted Red above his head and dashed around. DJ yelped, leaping to his feet and chasing after them.

"Great catch!" Alan laughed as DJ swiftly dove to the floor, managing to intercept Red and Second just before they tumbled down.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Cho, stop that! Don't!" DJ exclaimed, wresting the knife from the black pineapple's grasp and pulling him close, only to be pummeled by Cho's relentless punches. With a groan, DJ carefully placed the knife on the kitchen cabinet. Turning around, his eyes widened at the sight of Dark poised to dunk Vic into a pot of boiling water.

"Dark, no!" DJ yelled, swiftly intervening to rescue both Dark and Vic, their surprised 'chip's echoing loudly. "Oh, help me, above," DJ cried out, swiftly carrying the two pineapples to the living room and depositing them on the couch where the apples were peacefully napping in a dogpile.

"Don't you all take afternoon naps? Look at my kids," DJ gestured towards the apples snuggled together. He then turned back to the pineapples, who were chattering and chirping amongst themselves. "Ugh," DJ groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, half-tempted to swaddle them all in a burrito and hang them from the stair rails.

"I’m half tempted to stuff you all in a sock, you know that, right?" DJ threatened, eyeing the pineapples, Sec responding with a chip before dashing to embrace the serene Vic, who remained unperturbed.

"Please, just try to be more like Vic. Look at him, so chill. Why can't you all—wait... where's Dark?" DJ's eyes widened as he counted the hollowheads, stopping at three; the red hollowhead was missing. A grinding sound caught his attention, and he turned to see Dark atop the cabinet, nudging a vase towards the edge.

"For goodness' sake!" DJ growled, sprinting towards Dark, managing to catch both the vase and Dark just before they tumbled down. The sudden save caused DJ to stumble, hitting his side against the cabinet in the process.

With a groan, torn between the pain and the urge to scold Dark, DJ's emotions softened when Dark emitted a frightened 'chip,' prompting a sigh from DJ. After carefully returning the vase to its place, he rubbed his side, contemplating his next move.

"Dark, don't do that again... or else," DJ warned, fixing an intense glare on Dark, who nodded in understanding, clinging to DJ's thumb with his tiny arms.

"Don't repeat that, understand? I'll really stuff you in a sock," DJ reiterated firmly, Dark nodding repeatedly in response. Letting out a sigh, DJ gave him a gentle pat. "Good—” DJ's smile faltered as a loud crash interrupted him. Whirling around, he found only Vic beside Green on the couch.

"What—?" DJ began, before spotting Sec and Cho locked in a scuffle on the floor, toppling the coffee table in their tussle. "What the heck?!" DJ exclaimed, leaping into action to separate them, with Dark perched on his arm, watching the chaos unfold, possibly even encouraging Sec to land a punch on Cho's face.

Dark waved his stubby arms as DJ intervened to prevent Sec and Cho from engaging in a full-blown brawl. "Stop, both of you! I swear to Alan, I'll tie you up and turn you into chandeliers!" DJ threatened, but Sec and Cho persisted in their scuffle.

It took nearly an hour of tireless effort for DJ to finally lull the pineapples to sleep, a task that consumed much of his day. Carrying the four troublesome fruits, he tried various methods to coax them into slumber. Now, utterly drained, DJ found himself groaning in exhaustion, resting his head on the armrest of the couch. The apples and pineapples lay peacefully asleep beside him, the room finally quiet

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Yellow, out of everyone, I trust you. Please, watch over all of them," DJ implored, gazing down at Yellow, who nodded in understanding. With a sense of reassurance, Yellow turned to observe the apples and pineapples left in the cart, alongside the empty baskets awaiting a fresh harvest of apples.

"Meep!" Yellow saluted, offering DJ a nod before bouncing back towards the cart and climbing up. DJ emitted a sound that was a mix of a groan and a sigh as he redirected his attention to the trees. Retrieving his gloves from his pockets, he slid them on, preparing for the task ahead.

With a deep breath, he stretched his arms overhead, letting out a groan before winding up for a swing. His fist connected with the tree in a swift motion, causing apples to rain down into the awaiting baskets. The tree bark groaned loudly, and the roots beneath the soil snapped, gradually tilting the tree until it fell in one fluid motion.

"Oops," DJ winced as the tree tumbled, but he quickly turned his attention to the cart, exhaling with relief as he saw all the apples and pineapples still safely gathered. As long as they stayed put and didn't wander off, they would be out of harm's way.

The thought of a tree falling on them made DJ shudder, a scenario he hoped to avoid at all costs. With a deep breath, he gathered the baskets and carried them back to the cart. "Looks like you're all having fun...playing cards? Where did you get those?" DJ raised an eyebrow, spotting Dark attempting to conceal the cards behind his back.

The group glanced nervously at DJ before he burst into laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. Dark let out an annoyed 'meep' in response.

"Alright, you guys can play poker, but if Alan catches you, don't blame me," DJ chuckled, giving them a playful warning as he gestured for them to continue their game. With a wave, he headed towards the next tree.

Amidst the playful meeps and chips of the fruits, DJ chuckled softly. After rotating his shoulder a few times, he proceeded to fell one tree after another, the repetitive thuds echoing through the orchard.

"Maybe I should take it down a notch," DJ muttered to himself as he surveyed the fallen trees. The expanse of apple trees on their land seemed excessive, posing a challenge for him as he wasn't keen on deforestation. It was also becoming tiresome to handle the excess wood, especially with the surplus already stored in the barn by Alan.

"Ugh," DJ groaned, rolling his eyes as he wiped sweat from his forehead, feeling the weight of his physical exertion. With a sigh, he directed his attention to the last tree scheduled for today. After a brief moment of preparation, he approached it, rolling his shoulders and giving them a light massage to relieve some tension.

He turned towards the cart, releasing a relieved sigh at the sight of the fruits still perched atop the baskets. Each of them held their own apples, even Red balancing one on his head. The scene brought a small smile to DJ's face

DJ snickered at the sight of the fruits being surprisingly endearing when they weren't causing chaos.

He refocused on the task at hand and delivered the strongest punch he could muster, causing the tree and the apples to tumble simultaneously. Grinning with satisfaction, he dusted his hands off, only to let out a startled yell at the sight of Dark positioned behind the falling tree.

"Shit! Dark!" DJ's cry pierced the air as he lunged towards the pineapple, his knees skidding on the grass as he threw himself over Dark, shielding him from the imminent danger of the descending tree. The weighty tree crashed down on top of them, enveloping them in darkness.

Amidst the crushing weight, a fleeting thought crossed DJ's mind, a nap wouldn't be so bad. His body ached as he felt Dark shifting beneath him. Gritting his teeth against the discomfort, he managed to push the tree aside, allowing Dark to wiggle free from his grasp.

Dark's concerned 'Meep! Meep! Meep!' filled the air as he patted DJ's cheek, as DJ's eyes fluttered shut, succumbing to the overwhelming exhaustion and pain.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Everyone relax, he’s just sleeping, we’re hollowheads, we can’t get hurt easily”. As DJ slowly regained consciousness, a familiar voice chuckled nearby.

Opening his eyes groggily, he felt a weight on his side and chest. "Al?" DJ mumbled, rubbing his head in confusion.

"DJ, how did it feel for a tree to fall on you?" Alan's laughter filled the air as DJ sat up, letting out a grunt of discomfort. The apples and pineapples leaped onto his lap, emitting a chorus of meeps and chips as they clamored around him, hugging his chest in relief.

"It was pretty intense. Okay, everyone, relax, I'm not dead yet," DJ reassured them, a chuckle escaping his lips. He observed Dark grabbing onto his jumper and climbing up to perch on his shoulder, emitting a soft 'meep' while hugging DJ's cheek with a hint of sadness and regret.

Amused by the scene, Alan watched with a hand over his mouth, attempting to stifle his laughter. DJ rolled his eyes playfully. "At least you feel bad. Your father here doesn't even seem to care that you guys were almost traumatized," DJ teased, prompting a grin from Alan.

It was until later that DJ and Alan found themselves cuddling on the couch. Lulled by the peaceful scene with the fruits nestled between them, DJ couldn't help but voice his exhaustion. "I am never taking care of your kids ever again, man," he mumbled, stifling a yawn as he felt Alan chuckle beside him.

"Can't keep up, old man?" Alan teased, provoking a raised eyebrow from DJ. "You wish. By the way, you're older than me," DJ retorted with a grin, prompting a chuckle from Alan in response.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Thank @kiaerinnn for pushing me to create this xDD, I realized I don't feed you guys much, OOPS xD. Anyways, just request and I'll give - S

#FAlanBecker #FDJWelch #Spongey'sFic #ava #ava au #alan becker #dj welch #ava red #ava green #ava yellow #ava blue #ava tco #ava victim #ava tsc #ava tdl #animator vs animation #animation vs animator

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whatsaninterestingplacethisis · 7 months ago

Text

summer love

Imagine

Adam Fantilli x Latina!Reader

synop: Adam and y/n meet during dinner in Italy, spending what seems an endless summer together.

song-spo: mystery of love by sufjan stevens + crazy for you by madonna (this song captures the final scene so perfectly like 13 going on 30 lmao)

genre: slowburn rom-com, heavy on the comedy bc i think i'm hilarious, but def has cute scenes. 7.1K words! (longest i've written??)

Prompts: building tension prompt

an: call me by your name vibezz + one day trip to greece vibez. shy adam with no rizz hehe. too many bad jokes/mentions of his italian ancestry lmao, witty & snarky friendship 😆 i literally forget what team adam favored for his draft my bad. also i know zip of italian culture so hopefully i didn't butcher anything nor have i visited italy lmao

cw: drinking, cussing, skinny dipping, innuendo with spoons?

It was a spontaneous trip which only it made it all the better.

Saving up the money, booking the flight, and the stay. With no itinerary, you spent the past two days on the beach and sleeping in from the jet lag.

You figured you would put your new wardrobe to use by wearing it out to dinner. It was a warm night, the sky turning into a dark blue, eventually turning black with stars sprinkled above.

You wore a loose summer dress to try an Italian cuisine. It was daunting to eat alone in a foreign country but then again you made it across the pond into a foreign country all alone. It didn't come this far to starve. So you ate and drank a bit of wine.

In between sips and chewing, you people watched. Noticing the large touristy family trying to eat dinner in peace. A native Italian couple staring at each other lovingly. And then there was you, all alone with no one across from you but it was okay. You were content. No one there knew you or even acknowledged your presence. With a light breeze in the air and the muffled sounds of people it put you at ease.

You took another and final sip from your glass, as your eyes hooked with a stranger's eyes. They stayed there until the stranger bashfully looked away, failing to hold back a smile.

You noticed this stranger sitting with what seems like his family. Him being the only one on the restaurant patio acknowledging your existence put you on edge.

You avoided looking at his direction as you waved the waiter for the bill. You fidgeted nervously with the table cloth as you waited. When he returned, he not only came back with the bill but a small bowl of pink, you assumed, what was strawberry gelato.

"Oh I didn't order this," you looked at the waiter with confusion,

"No, he did." he pointed across the outdoor patio to said stranger. He had a slight blush to his cheeks, nodding his head to the both of you.

"I see, thank you." you bid goodbye the his service after paying for your meal. You looked back down at the cold dessert and right up the stranger. You took a big sigh as you signaled him to come over to your table. You noticed how his eyes widened and him talking to his presumed family. He made his way to your single table as his family's eyes followed his path.

By the time he sat across from you, his family's eyes were on you, but you ignored them for now,

"Bold move with the soft serve." you finally took a bite of the gelato, waiting for him to make another move.

"Is it? I was just trying to be nice I guess."

"Just nice? What if I didn't call you over? Would you send another dessert?" you teased him, curious of his thinking.

He laughed, "Maybe I would have ordered one for me after the rejection," he took a clean spoon from the table and dove into your dessert, "but you did call me over, so thanks." the spoon made a pop sound when he licked it clean.

"I'm Adam."

"Well Adam, you just took a bite of my gelato."

"Well technically I paid for it." He said as he took another spoonful from your bowl.

"Wow, so thats how you treat a lady?" you dramatically say as you eat more of you and Adam's dessert.

"I'm y/n." you lean back into your chair, staring this man down. You caught what seems like his brother and mother peeking behind his shoulder from their table.

"Is that your family?" you nodded towards their direction. He turned around and saw them snap their heads in any other direction.

He chortled, running his hand through his hair, "Yeah, don't pay attention to them. They'll just embarrass me."

"What, you don't pick up girls often? Especially with dessert?" you joked and he laughed too,

He shook his head as he laughed but stared at you intently with a soft smile, "No, no I don't."

You didn't think his sweet gesture would lead anywhere, but you were starting to like him.

"So, Adam, have you been in Italy before?" It was a silly question to ask but you didn't know anything about him. He went on to tell you how he had family here and he had visited often. He even mentioned his last name and that definitely proved his rich culture to your amusement,

"Fantilli?! Wow, I don't think I've ever heard such an Italian name before!"

"It's not that Italian..." he basked in his shyness as he rambled off on his culture,

"Oh you're kidding, you got the double i and everything." you enjoyed teasing him because you both knew it was light hearted.

"So where are you from?" The shared gelato had been long gone yet the conversation flowed smoothly.

"Nobleton, it's near Toronto, but I live in Columbus for work."

"Columbus as in Ohio?!" you squinted at his answer, forcing him to hold back a laugh.

"Well it wasn't really my choice, LA would have been my first choice."

"Somehow LA is worse than Ohio." you blatantly say making him laugh. Before you could ask him more about which lesser of the cities were his choice, a tall figure appeared at your table.

"Hey bro, mom and dad are ready to head back." The standing figure smiled to you and smirked to Adam making him scoff at him.

"I'll be there in a few." Adam replied

"For sure," he said with another grin as he loudly slapped Adam's shoulder as he walked off.

"Was that your brother?" you asked the obvious,

"Unfortunately," he tried to not reach for his shoulder but his face grimaced in pain.

"Well." you said waiting to see how Adam was going to end this night,

"Well...what?" he chuckled ignorantly

"It was nice talking with you." you said honestly,

"Oh yeah, it was" he stands and gets ready to leave "have a goodnight y/n"

"Adam!" you raise your voice before he turns all the way, "Are you really not gonna ask for my number?"

"I didn't know you still wanted to talk with me." he rubbed the back of his neck,

"You know you have to be more bold than ordering dessert across a restaurant to know if a girl is in interested." you stood up to sort of reach his level, "So?"

He pulled out his phone and handed it to you,

"There, now we can talk more if you want to." you gave back his phone,

"Oh, I want to."

"Then I expect a text whenever possible." Both of you were aware that you would have less than a week together in Italy but it would be enough.

"Your family is waiting," you whispered,

"I'll see you soon y/n," he whispered back,

"I hope so." you watched him walk back to his family and left before they could catch another glimpse of you.

--- Day One ---

The next morning you got dressed for whatever the day presented with. You walked to a near cafe for a freshly brewed cappuccino and buttered pastry.

You were in the middle of journaling your trip so far, about to detail the discourse of the night before, when said discourse sat across from you.

"Morning stranger, I was just going to text you," he said with sunglasses on.

You nonchalantly closed your journal, "Were you? before or after ordering breakfast?"

"Well it looks like you just finished yours," he reached to the small and last portion of your croissant,

"You know what Fantilli, you are making a habit of eating my food."

"I'll make it up to you, c'mon," he softly grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the incoming tourist traffic,

"And where are we going?" you struggled to put your journal back into your bag.

"It's a surprise."

"Let me guess, the beach?"

"Somewhere where only the locals know about," he teased his idea. He noticed his hand was now intertwined with yours and hesitated to remove his hand. Before you even noticed his hand placement, he slyly moved his away to fix his hair under his hat.

After complaining of walking for at least 15 minutes, you finally went off trail, into nature, walking on sand to a huge cove opening of a secluded beach. The both of you stood in the cove's shade, watching the small waves crashing onto shore.

"I'll give you props of your local knowledge," you yelled over the ocean's noise that echoed in the cove with your hands on your hips.

"Does it make up for the croissant?"

"It does. But you still ate my gelato last night,"

"Yeah I knew you wouldn't forget about that so I have another surprise location after this one,"

"Woah, you came prepared Fantilli," you jokingly pushed him away, noticing his newfound confidence in comparison of last night.

"Do you have swim shorts on?" you asked him, inching closer towards the shore,

"Like you said, I came prepared."

"Then, last one to the water owes the other a gelato!" you bolted running halfway through your sentence, tossing your bag to the side, leaving Adam shocked but he was right after you.

Adam was far behind to see you swiftly take off your sundress and dive into the cool clear waters. Coming up for air, you saw him struggle to take off his regular shorts on the shore, leaving him embarrassed by your gaze.

"C'mon Fantilli, do you need my help?!" you yelled across the distance with a smirk. Soon he came into the water too, his shoulders shaking from the cold.

"You owe me a gelato." you said with a grin.

"Fine. But I'll just eat some of it, again." he said with a dumb smirk,

"I won't let you," you splashed a bit of water at him which ensued in a way too serious water fight. After both of you surrendering for the nth time and coughing up water, you dried out in the sun. You started a new journal entry, describing the cove and its scenery.

Adam on the other hand, noticed your small camera in an open pocket of your bag, and took it to himself to capture the late morning with photographs. He caught a single candid of you journaling, the immediate next shot was you noticing him taking pictures.

"What are doing?"

"Capturing memories." he turned the camera over the take a selfie of the two of you, "smile!"

You snatched your camera back to look at the photos and they were actually pretty good.

"So where is this second secret location, hm?"

"It's a secret for a reason."

“I don’t like secrets.” you admitted

“Yeah I can tell.”

“Don’t be rude.” you nudged his shoulder again

“I’m not, I’m just making an observation.” he laughed at your faked offense,

“Just promise me we won’t have to walk as far.”

“I promise we won’t have to walk at all.”

“Now I’m starting to like the sound of this.”

After drying in the sun completely you made it back to the city to call a taxi to take you said secret location.

The taxi dropped you off in the outskirts of the city, off the road there was a large shed of racks on racks of bicycles.

“Okay what exactly is this secret location?” you asked perplexed,

“This is only halfway to our destination, we bike the rest way in.”

Adam rented two bikes for the both of you and although you were caught off guard, you enjoyed biking, catching a breeze rather than walking in uncomfortable shoes.

You wanted to bug Adam again of where you were going on the ride to there, but you soon figured it out. In the distance there were rows of what you assumed were grape vines.

You were so preoccupied of where you were going that you didn’t appreciate the view of the countryside. It was beautiful to say the least, the skies were clear expect with big silky white clouds, the fields were bright green with patches of yellow, and the winding hills in the distance were mesmerizing.

When you reached the vineyard there was again racks on racks of bikes and once stocked away, Adam guided you to join a tour of wine tasting the freshest grapes of Italy, at least that’s what he said.

You weren’t a big drinker, nor a fan of wine but it felt appropriate to wine taste when in Italy. You didn’t want to drink too much because you did have to bike back. Which left you curious on how many people crashed into bushes on the way back.

Luckily the vineyard also had a restaurant so you could finally get something proper to eat along with the alcohol.

“Cheers,” you clinked your glass with Adam’s as the crumbs of lunch sat on your plates.

"I'll give you credit Fantilli, your locations are superb for a tourist like me. I've been graced with your existence to be my personal guide." You had a trait for theatrics.

"Thank you, but to be regarded as only a personal tourist guide hurts a little." Adam put his hand over his heart. He reached your level of theatrics very well.

"Okay in addition to a phenomenal guide, you are becoming a friendly friend."

"Friendly friend." he repeated robotically, mocking you.

"That is what I said." you took another sip of your wine to hide your embarrassment on how to describe what the two of you have. Luckily the waiter had returned with none other than strawberry gelato.

"Here you go, friendly friend, your promised gelato." He pushed the bowl towards you, "And I promise this time I won't eat it," you could tell he meant it as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"How nice of you," you took the first bite of the cold dessert which was much needed for the hot and fun day you two had. Which only made you feel bad for him.

"Do you want some?" you asked as licked your spoon clean,

He stumbled onto his words as he stared at you, "Nope I'm good."

If he really wanted some he would order one for himself, you thought. But hell, he can have a spoonful or two of your gelato. He's made a habit of paying for them so might as well.

You slightly sighed as you pushed the bowl towards him, "Go ahead have some."

"I'm fine really. Plus I bought it for you since you won fair and square." He tried to be humble but you could read him like a book in the moment.

"I can practically hear your salivating all the way from here." You dipped a new spoon into the bowl and gestured to him, "So have some."

"Are you sure?" he finally broke as he uncrossed his arms,

"Yes I'm sure. I don't want you passing out from not eating a cold soft serve on a hot day."

He didn't hesitate on your yes and dove in but was able to mumble with a mouth full, "gelato isn't a soft serve, actually."

"I should have let you passed out."

He smiled as he wiped gelato off his lips. You smiled at how stupidly cute he was. The first day spent together was short as he had plans with his family the later half of the day but promised to have a fun itinerary to spend with you.

--- Day Two ---

Your afternoon was shared with Adam this day. And he went all out this time. He told you to meet him by a near ship dock, which already had you stressed of where this was going.

He texted you the night before to wear active clothes but have a swimsuit on. When he mentioned the first you tried not to complain so early.

So you found yourself dressed in appropriate clothing waiting for him.

"Yo!" you turned to see who was calling and you saw Adam standing in a small size boat with his arms stretched out all proud.

"Hi," you walked forward, "So what's the plan for today?"

"Well do you see that island not that far away?" he pointed towards a small but very clear island across the water, "There is one my best local locations, but we have to get there on boat, obviously." he stretched out his hand to help you step inside.

"And whose boat is this?" you asked out of concern how costly these expenses were,

"My family's." he said with a soft smile. You couldn't tell if that was better or worse.

You placed your bag on the many of available seats, "Okay, so whose steering the boat?" you turned to him with your hands on your hips, looking for any other sign of the driver.

Your eyes followed Adam as he got behind the wheel, staring the engine, turning back to you; "I'm your captain this evening." he said with a big grin as he steered away from the dock, making you lose your balance,

"Oh! Of course you are!" you sarcastically yell over the loud engine. We are so dead, you thought, as you sat down in the passenger seat.

You held onto your hat as the strong winds were begging to pull it off your head. Adam noticed your uneasiness and tried to calm you with his stories of driving since a young age. After the short ride to the island and docking safely you felt slightly confident into his skills.

As soon as you two docked, you didn't notice much of the Island besides a small beach and the mountain itself.

"We're not hiking this Island, are we?" you asked as you both walked towards a base of a trail,

"Fortunately, yes." he answered as he fidgeted with his sunglasses on his nose,

"You do remember me complaining of walking yesterday right?"

"Yep" he said ever so nonchalantly

"So you thought hiking would be the next best thing to do?" you tried to reciprocate his calm demeanor but you could already imagine how sore your legs would be in the morning.

"Listen, the hike is not that bad and the view on top is rewarding!"

Ten minutes into climbing elevation, he lied. You were trying your best to control your breathing as he looked like he was barely breathing.

He was kind enough to stay with your pace though, "Just a little more," he said to inspire motivation,

"Out of curiosity, why are you not heaving like me?" He tried to laugh it off until you came to a stop. You were glad his answer was long enough for you to probe with more questions to give you a break. Nevertheless his answer left you surprised and impressed.

"Now you know why Ohio wasn't my first choice." He grabbed you hand and pulled you to keep on walking.

Now, you didn't hike the whole Island but just high enough to make matters worse, cliff jump. Still holding your hand, Adam slowly guided you towards an opening of trees and bushes to look over a cliff at dark blue water, which only made you feel sick.

"This view is not rewarding. My stomach is churning." you admitted as you pulled back from the scary view, removing your hand from his.

"Oh c'mon we are barely that high up,"

"We are high enough! Even if I were to jump, how do we get our clothes back?" you stared at him intently waiting for an answer,

He just stood there grimacing knowing you wouldn't like the answer, "We hike back...?"

"You're joking." you say exasperatedly. You didn't say it aloud, but these plans were a huge downgrade the day before.

He stepped forward and grabbed your hands, "We already made it up here and technically there is only one fun way down, so why not?"

You stood there staring at him blankly. "I'll hike back alone to get our stuff. Would you do it then?" he tried to negotiate but you were not budging,

"You would have to throw me off this cliff before I jump." your statement led him to raise an eyebrow and smirk,

"You are not throwing me off this damn cliff!" you lightly pushed his arms away,

"I would never. But think about it, if you jump you don't have to walk or hike at all!"

"If I jump, I'll probably never walk again!"

He tried to hold back a laugh, "Literally we are not that high up and if you land right you'll be fine. We'll jump together and I'll make sure."

You looked at him like he was crazy. You slowly walked over to peek over the cliff again and you guessed it wasn't that high. You shut your eyes tight and cursed him out in your head.

"Fuck it if this dive doesn't kill me you better hope it does." You started to take off your shoes and clothes revealing your swimsuit.

Adam stood there watching you and how quickly your mood changed, "You better start stripping because this adrenaline is temporary." He quickly followed suit and was ready to jump.

Your body shook in nerves and excitement, "Ready?" he asked as he held your again for the nth time,

All you could sound out was a scared mhm as you squeezed his hand. Then he started counting, "One...Two...Three!" You felt your body go numb as you ran off that cliff, involuntarily screaming before holding your breath for the cold impact. You opened your eyes underwater as you quickly tried to swim back up for air.

As soon as you broke the surface you looked for Adam. When you found him he broke the surface too and flipped his soaked hair behind him. When he saw you, he smiled making you break out into a huge grin, "You did it!" he yelled in pride,

"That was insane!" you bursted out laughing, almost turning hysterical but Adam started laughing too.

As the ocean's movement was nudging you, you admired at the island and it's size. You took in nature's colors from the dark blue water to the grey and browns rock formation to the bright green foliage of the trees. The sun was heading west on the opposite side, leaving you and Adam to float in the Island's shade.

As your adrenaline started to wear off, you started to feel how cold the water really was and decided to swim back to shore.

As you walked back to the dock, Adam asked, "So do you still want to kill me?"

"Not at the moment, no. Just don't try that scenario ever again."

You patiently waited, wrapped in a towel, for Adam to bring back your stuff, and you didn't feel any bit guilty for it.

He made it back less than 20 minutes, as you saw a glimpse of him jogging down the hill with your bag around him.

"Here you go, my lady" he passed you your bag, out of breath.

"Thank you, kind sir." you slipped on a sun dress you packed away.

After a few minutes of readjusting, you were on your way back to the mainland. Just in time as golden hour was setting in. The cool breeze felt calming after that rush. The breeze slowed down as the boat came to a slow stop.

"What's wrong?" you asked Adam, assuming the worst, if you two were now stranded right between two land markings.

"Just wanted to stop for a bit to enjoy the sunset on the water," He made his way over the rear of the boat with the cushioned seats. You followed his actions, taking a seat next to him; your torsos turned to the vast water. It was nature's silence filled with the calm waves splashing against the boat. Both of you sat there in shared existence, wishing the moment could last longer than it would end.

Adam turned his head to look at you, he noticed how the sun lit up your warm skin tone perfectly. How the golden hour made your hair shine. He couldn't describe it more awkwardly by saying, "You look shiny."

You furrowed your brows with a smirk on your face, "shiny?" you questioned as you looked at him,

"I mean you're glowing." he stumbled over his vocabulary as he wanted to smack himself,

"Glowing?" you poked fun at him crumbling right before your eyes.

"Ugh the sun is hitting your face perfectly. You look good." he said tired of his attempts to simply compliment a girl.

You reiterated plainly as possible, "I look good." ensuing him to groan in embarrassment, covering his face with his hands.

You nudge his shoulder laughing at his embarrassment, "You're adorable," you whisper.

You sat there, hugging your knees, laying your head on them as you admired the boy who has made this trip more special than you could have possibly imagined.

He turned to look at you only to be met with your intimidating gaze, but he held it as he realized for the past 48 hours, his mind has been flooded of you and only you.

As he held your shared gaze, you lifted your head, straightening your posture expecting him to lean forward. Although he considers it, he turns away and clears his throat, "We should head back before it gets dark."

He leaves you sitting at the back of the boat to start the engine. You could have sworn something was happening but didn't think twice of it. You pulled out your journal and began to start a new entry for the unexpectedly thrilling day.

Adam, now seated behind the helm, peered back at you as he started to drive off. He put his sunglasses back on as he shook his head at himself, stupid, he whispered to himself.

--- Day Three ---

The evening of the boat was two days ago. And in the habit of texting, sending voice messages, and calling whenever possible Adam had said his family were insistent on the plans they made beforehand so he couldn't meet you often as he wanted. With unfortunate timing, today was your last full day in Italy, tomorrow morning you will be on a flight back home.

You spent half the day to yourself checking things off your bucket list and trying all the cafes social media influencers suggested. When Adam texted you he was finally available, you told him you wanted to shop at a local market to buy some souvenirs. In less than half an hour he was able to meet you there, props to his running skills.

He found you admiring the gold necklaces at one stand, chatting with the vendor. He admired how bright your face lit up as you laughed, even with blacked-out shades on that made you look so, in the nicest way possible, unapproachable.

He stayed away for a bit to catch his breath. He found himself always running for you, but he would never complain. As he slowed his breath he found a site that he never thought would bother him as much as it did.

He felt his body freeze and go numb as he saw that famous smile of yours show because of a young man. He had dark, almost black hair and was slightly taller than Adam. He saw how he took the necklace you were looking at from your hands and positioned it around your neck. There was a small mirror hanged up and the man guided you to turn towards it to get a better look.

He saw your reflection as you nodded to whatever he was saying. Adam felt his jaw clenching as he saw the man move your hair off your shoulder to help you better.

As the vendor's son was trying to convince you the necklace was perfect for you, your eyes caught Adam in the reflection behind you. You turned to the overly kind man and thanked him but declined his offer for now.

You lightly jogged towards Adam and noticed his stoic expression, "Hey stranger, haven't seen you in a while," It was like he didn't even noticed you ran up to him, his gaze was still stuck on the tall dark haired man.

You placed your shades on your head, "Hello?" you grabbed his left hand to sway it side to side. Your touch is what finally made him acknowledge your presence.

"I don’t see you for two days and you’re already trying to replace me with another Italian?" he sounded so literal but he was joking, kind of.

You noticed how he looked down at you with an ever so slight pout. So you couldn't help to tease him, "Don't kid yourself Fantilli, you're from Nobleton, not Tuscany." you kept fidgeting with his hand,

His jaw dropped just a bit before he pulled his hand away after that comment, "So I'm not Italian enough for you?" he scoffed.

"No I guess not" you say in a sad voice with a pouty lip before grinning,

He crossed his arms across his chest, "I could easily use my Italian skills to get you half the price of whatever jewelry you want."

"Wait you're Italian? You haven't said so at all!?" you replied sarcastically to how many times you've heard the word Italian in a conversation.

He rolled his eyes, making you giggle, as he took two steps to walk away. You stopped him with your hand on his chest to bring him back in front of you,

"I'm just messing with you Adam, I mean your last name speaks for itself does it not?" you smiled up at him hoping you didn't actually hurt his feelings.

"You're a bully." he muttered as he looked at the general view of the market, avoiding your eyes.

"Hmm, I don't think so. But if you say so!" You interlocked your hand with his, "C'mon I really want that necklace and like you said I could use your useful Italian skills." you enunciated the overused word,

"You can get a similar necklace from another vendor." Adam stated as he led the way to another jewelry vendor, "They all sale the same products anyway." he muttered in annoyance at how he couldn't stay mad at you long.

With his help, Adam suggested and was kind enough to buy another a piece of jewelry you were eyeing. And of course he helped you to wear it as soon as you bought it. After more window shopping, you headed to have your final dinner in Italy. It was also the final shared dinner with Adam, but it was fulfilling. As you took advantage of consuming alcohol in a foreign country, conversation flowed with curiosity as you and Adam learned more about each other and life back home. Even if both of your homes were far away from each other.

“I’m gonna miss authentic strawberry gelato,” you licked your lips as you and Adam walked to the outskirts of the nearest beach. You suggested to stargaze on the beach after dinner.

“You have me to thank for that.” He bolstered himself as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you finally met sand.

As you walked a bit further to find the perfect spot to lay down, you plopped yourself to the ground, pulling on Adam’s arm with you. As you laid back you saw the twinkling stars spinning, most likely from the wine.

Adam laid down right next to you and admired the same stars, his stars not spinning as much.

“This is nice,” he whispered over the soft waves,

“This is perfect.” you whispered back,

Your left hand hesitantly searched for Adam’s and once you found it, he instantly interlocked his fingers with yours. He fidgeted with one of the rings he bought you a few hours earlier.

After the shared moment with the ocean as ambient noise, Adam sat up, making you copy him.

“Should we take a final swim?” He asked as he looked ahead at the moon reflected water,

“I don’t have a swimsuit under my dress,” you practically replied,

“So?” he said confidently,

“What are you insinuating, Fantilli?” you started to giggle, some fault at the alcohol.

“C’mon,” he stood up and he helped you up to stand. He walked closer to the water and started to take off his shirt.

“Are serious?” you sobered up quick as you fixated on his back muscles, “the water is going to be freezing!” He continued to take off his shorts, “you might want to turn around,” he offered and he stripped completely naked.

You quickly covered your eyes and shrieked at him for his boldness, “Adam what the hell are you doing!?” You heard him laugh and heard the calm water being disturbed before he shouted from the cold.

Assuming it was safe to look, you saw him floating upright in the dark water,

“Is it cold?” You whispered-yelled, afraid of someone seeing you two but it was late at night and the streets were practically empty.

“It’s alright.” He said through chattering teeth.

“Your turn.” He yelled back from the water,

“You’re insane! I’m not stripping naked!” you crossed your arms as the chilly breeze gave you goosebumps.

“Oh c’mon it’s your last night here, you have to do something insane like skinny dipping!”

You stood there contemplating. If you were going to be honest, you really did want to. You were just afraid of someone catching you two.

“You’ll regret if you don’t.” he broke your silence,

“Turn around!” You caught a glimpse of him smiling before turning around and covering his eyes. You did a final scope of the area and swiftly took of your dress and underwear. You slowly stepped into the freezing water, which felt like torture.

“It’s fucking freezing,” you nudged Adam’s shoulder as he finally turned around.

He smiled very mischievously, “What?” you nervously chuckled

“We’re both entirely naked, yet we can’t see each other because it’s so dark out.” His smile turned into a smirk.

You rolled your eyes and splashed him, not too hard because you were still afraid of being too loud. But that was hopeless as Adam splashed you back harder, ensuing part two of the water fight from the first day.

“Adam stop!” you tried to grab his hands from making any more noise. He finally put his hands down stifling his laughter at your nerves.

“We’re definitely gonna get caught with your loud ass,” you flicked water at him for the final time.

“No we’re not.” he whispered back as he flicked water at you for the final time too.

You stared at him wondering how he’s not at all worried as you are. He stared at you finding how adorable your concern was. The more you stared into his eyes and examining his face, you realized he was doing the exact same thing.

“Why are you staring at me?” you scoffed at his gaze,

“You were staring at me first.” he said matter of factly

“No I wasn’t.” you scoffed again.

Besides the water slightly rippling from trying to stay afloat, something change. You were no longer cold, as you felt heat rush to your cheeks. You noticed how shallow your breathing and how it matched to Adam’s.

Adam felt the change too. He felt his heart racing, he could hear his blood pumping through his ears. His eyes wandered over your face and looked down at your lips.

He slightly cocked his head as he leaned forward, almost immediately you reciprocated as you two slowly kissed in the ocean. Before your lips could savor his touch, your mind pulled you away from him.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologized as soon as he felt your lips disconnected from his.

“No it’s okay. I just wasn’t prepared.” you tried to cool your warm cheeks with the saltwater but it didn’t help. “I didn’t think I was going to kiss you tonight.” you admitted.

“Really? Because I’ve been thinking about it non stop since we were on the boat.” He confessed as he tried to cool the back of his neck with the surrounding water, it didn’t work either.

“Yeah- I mean- I thought about that moment on the boat too. I guess I wasn’t sure if you were going to kiss me or not.”

“I wanted too. I really did, I was just second guessing myself, so I didn’t.” he trailed off his sentence as honesty poured out from the both of you.

Both of you floated there in silence which made you giggle. Before Adam could question you, you pulled him closer for another, longer and sensual, kiss. Neither of you pulling away but each others lips melting into one another’s.

You felt his lips smile making you reciprocate but your paranoia was getting to you again as things were escalating in the water. So when you pulled away to see if anyone was nearby, Adam’s forehead bumped into your nose as he followed your lips for another kiss.

“Ow” you said simultaneously. Both of you laughed it off, Adam cutting off your laughter with multiple swift kisses.

You put a hand on his chest to stop him, “Okay lover boy, let’s get out of here before I wrinkle like a raisin.”

You got out first to dress and Adam followed second. As soon as you both got dressed, he pulled you into another kiss on the beach, making smile into the kiss, again.

He walked you back to your hotel, holding hands of course. Both of you, but Adam especially, were acting delirious. A teenage summer romance in Italy, it couldn’t be anymore perfect.

You dreadfully reached the outside of your building, signaling the end of this night and trip. You turned to Adam for the final time that night, “I’m leaving tomorrow.” You whispered as you wrapped your arms around him as you gazed up at him.

“I’m aware.” He snaked his arms around you.

“It just had to be the last hour we have together for you to kiss me.” You placed the blame on him for not speeding up the process.

“Trust me I’ve been beating myself up since our boating day.” He titled his head back in frustration.

Although the moment was bitter sweet you were elated to get to know Adam, spend your trip with him, and to fall for him.

“Adam, it’s late. I should head in, I still have to pack.” you picked at his chain around his neck.

“Right.” he hoarsely whispered. For a second he had forgotten that the sun would rise again and you would leave to go back home.

“Adam?” you softly held the side of his face to make him to look at you,

“Hm?” he softly responded,

“Will you see me out tomorrow morning? A taxi will be picking me up right here. Can we say goodbye then?”

He fondly smiles as he nods into your hand. You move your hand to the back of his neck. Steadying yourself onto your tip toes to pull him into a kiss. You pulled away first, like always. You whispered, “I’ll see you in the morning.” you took one more look at him for the night and walked inside.

Adam’s long walk back to his bed felt short as he relived the night. The smell your perfume on him. The feel your touch on his lips. He didn’t think of the goodbye. He only thought that he would see you again tomorrow.

--- Final Minutes ---

You regretted booking such an early flight. Too early to have a final Italian breakfast. You would have something at the airport, you thought as you heard your stomach growl.

You messaged Adam last night right after you headed inside what time to meet you, wincing at how early the time would be.

Now you were waiting, in the lobby with your bags, for the taxi to pull up. You checked your phone noticing Adam hadn’t texted you since last night’s meeting time confirmation.

You started to feel a knot in your stomach. Even after what happened last night, hell the whole trip: you second guessed Adam’s intentions. What if he slept in? Or worse, he didn’t show up at all? You were hoping neither.

You saw a taxi pull up front the glass windows of the lobby and stood up with shaky knees because Adam still hadn’t arrived.

As you walked outside, looking around to find him running like you always found him, you didn’t see him. You sighed as you confirmed the taxi was indeed for you. You popped the trunk as you struggled to place your luggage inside. You took one more panoramic glance and opened the back seat door.

“Wait!” you heard someone faintly yell and you knew it was him.

You saw him run up the hilly street, the same road you two walked up last night from the beach. You shook your head as he struggled to sprint up the road. As he neared, you told the driver to wait a few a minutes.

You crossed your arms and leaned back on the cars rear, visibly judging Adam’s tardiness.

“I’m so sorry. I kind of slept in, I got home late last night, but that’s no excuse. Sorry. But you’re still here and now I’m here!” He rambled on showing clear remorse, which only made you grin.

“For a second Fantilli, I thought I imagined everything that happened last night.” you softly laughed off your worries now that his presence proved otherwise.

“Everything that happened last night was very real to me.” He stated its importance of the previous late night.

“And now it’s all coming to an end.” You stood up straight, never losing his eye contact.

“Maybe it’s the end of us in Italy, but it could be more back in the states?” he ended his sentence with hope making you smile, yet again.

“If you wanna say something Fantilli, now’s your chance.” you softly chuckled at his still timid self.

“Will I see you again?” He tucked both of his hands into his pockets, nervous for your response.

“Maybe, who knows?” you shrugged your shoulders sarcastically, “Maybe I’ll see you in Ohio.” you smiled fondly at him,

“Or LA.” he replies as he remembers your first ever conversation.

“Or LA.” you repeated softly.

There was a melancholy silence shared between you two that was quickly interrupted with the taxi drivers loud horn, making both of you jump.

As you admired Adam’s laugh and smile for the last time, you pulled him in for a goodbye kiss. He quickly melted into you, his hands finding your hip and face. This kiss lasting the longest, it was Adam who pulled away first, only inches from your face as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’ll see you whenever and wherever, Fantilli.” you whispered to him. You titled your head back to give him a soft kiss.

“Goodbye Adam.”

“Goodbye y/n.”

Adam stood there body warm and sweaty from his run but also how naturally you made him felt. He stared at your taxi driving off. As he went to turn around he saw your head pop out the window, dramatically sending him an air kiss. He laughs at your behavior, indulging your antics by dramatically catching it.

As he saw your head pop back into the car he felt his phone buzz. A text message from no one other than you, reading:

Save that kiss, it’ll be a while before I can kiss you again.

#adam fantilli x reader #adam fantilli imagine #nhl imagine #jells🪼imagines #latina!reader

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honey-minded-hivemind · 4 months ago

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⚔Wouldn't You Like🏛 AU, The Gods of Genosha, Krakoa, and the Human Kingdoms:

Charles Xavier/Cerebro: one of the kings of the gods, is the god of the mind and learning, can control minds, influence thoughts, heal inner pain, cause hallucinations, and puppeteer others; has a moving throne of metal and stardust; sometimes wears a helmet with an X on it; is married to Erik/Magneto, the other king of the gods; his symbols include: twined branches, mourning doves, ravens, and peridots, jades, and emeralds...

Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto: the other king of the gods, is the god of metals and justice, can control any metal, make anything from metal, is immune to certain powers, can manipulate iron in the blood, and uses metal to summon or throw lightning; has a helm of metal, a cape of silver, and usually his face is unseen; is married to Charles/Cerebro, one of the kings of the gods; his symbols include: shields, helmets, crossed spears, eagles, and titanium, iron, and silver...

Ororo Munroe/Storm: is the goddess of all weather as well as motherhood, can summon any kind of storm (snow, sand, thunder, etc.), can control lightning and the winds, can make the sun shine or make it rain; has a cape/cloak of clouds, hair of mists, and fastenings of gold; her symbols include: clouds, raindrops, lightning bolts, cranes, and blue/yellow topaz, aquamarine, and diamond

Raven Darkholme/Mystique: goddess of trickery, deceit, and secrets, can turn into any person or animal, is able to spy in any form, and is the wife of the minor goddess Destiny, who sees the future; appears naked, but is always blue, wears a belt and loincloth of white or black silk, sometimes a top of white or black; her symbols include: blue snakes, blue moons and stars, tragedy/comedy masks, and sapphires and garnets...

Logan Howlett/Wolverine: god of the wilderness and protection, as well as small woodland predators (ex. wolverines, badgers, foxes, wolves, coyotes, etc.), can go into a berserker mode, has six sharp, gleaming claws of poisonous metal, can take on an army of hundreds of soldiers, can bring out the protective side of others, can make a person become like an animal; wears a jacket or coat of brown leather, and pants or a loincloth of faded blue or black; is the brother of the older (and dual) god of nature and the wild, Victor/Sabretooth; his symbols include crossed claws or swords, badgers and wolverines, and howlite, hawk's eye, and jasper

Victor Creed/Sabretooth: dual god of nature and the hunt, as well as large predators (ex. smilodons, tigers, lions, bears, etc.), can fall into berserker mode, lives by his instincts, can drive men into insane rage/bloodlust, can destroy an entire kingdom barehanded, is also a god of protection; is the older brother of Logan/Wolverine, the autumn side of nature to his winter; wears large furred coats and jackets, or loincloth of golden or brown; his symbols include: tigers, lions, fanged skulls, curved, clawed footprints, and tiger's eye, amber, and gold + pyrite...

Hank McCoy/Beast: god of science, teaching, medicine, and literature, possess great strength of body and mind, knows the secrets of medicine, has scrolls and stone tablets of ancient texts, has taught medicine and shared written language with kingdoms past, and is both a lover and a fighter; is fluffy and dark blue/indigo, has little need for cloths, but will wear dark blue/black pants or cloths; his symbols include: gorillas, lions, scrolls, quills, medicinal herbs, and labradorite, obsidian, and turquoise...

Kevin Sydney/Morph: deity of cunning, mirth and merriment, comedy and tragedy, and change, can take any form and any power, can cause madness, is a master trickster, tends to help down-on-their-luck mortals; is a good friend of Logan/Wolverine; wears a cloth/toga, can be naked or covered in a jacket or clothes, usually in shades of brown, yellow, or blue; their symbols include: chameleons, vipers, butterflies/moths, caterpillars, masks, and opals, color-changing sapphires/garnets, and pearls

(They all had once trained and given a gift/blessing (a mutation) to Reader, but after The Fight, they rarely speak of them... no one can ever speak ill of Reader in their presence or where they can hear, lest they earn the wrath of any of them... they try to be better mentors (read: parents) to the new demigods...)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #⚔wouldn't you like🏛 au

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witchyleehibernates · 2 months ago

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Curtis Gang Guide’s / Companions

Darrel “Darry” Curtis

Guide: Bear made of Cloud like Mist/Fog

Companion: Wolf – Strength / Loyalty / Protectiveness

Keith “Two-Bit” Mathews

Guide: Snake made of Water like energy

Companion: Bird – Comedy / Playfulness

** an idea I had was changing Two-Bit’s Companion into a Cheshire Cat, Mischievous / Playful

Dallas “Dally” Winston

Guide: Fox made of Energy (Aura Energy)

Companion: Dragon – Protectiveness / Strength

Steve Randle

Guide: Cat, specifically a Black Cat with orange ‘socks’ and an orange tail)

Companion: Honey Badger – Independence / Confidence

Sodapop Curtis

Guide: Bird (Magpie? Raven?)

Companion: Rabbit – Loyalty / Curiosity

Johnny Cade

Guide: Crow made of Shadows

Companion: Dove made of Light

Ponyboy Curtis

Guide: Butterfly (Butterflies?) made of LightCompanion: Phoenix – Confidence / Perseverance

#the outsiders #ao3 writer #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #johnny cade #steve randle #dally winston #twobit mathews #witchyleehibernates aus #magic au

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rhysdarbinizedarby · 1 year ago

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Our Flag Means Death Season 2: Exclusive First Look

Vanity Fair joins Stede, Blackbeard, and the rest of the cast on set in New Zealand for an exclusive early look at the second season, debuting on Max in October.

BY SARAH CATHERALL (AUGUST 24, 2023)

Only the fans of Our Flag Means Death can determine whether they’ll be satisfied with the show’s second season, which debuts on Max in October. But if you ask Fernando Frias, who directed three of the season’s episodes, he sounds pretty confident: “If my life depended on saying whether it’s yes or no, I would say yes.’’

It’s December 8, 2022, and the principal actors on Our Flag Means Death as well as the 800-plus extras and crew members have three days left of their three-month shoot for season two. Things are starting to get emotional. “You’ve been the most amazing crew I’ve ever worked with,” says one actor as he wraps his final scene. Frias says it’s like leaving “a long summer camp,” adding, “it’s like a family.”

Rhys Darby as Stede Bonnet. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

The series created by David Jenkins was a surprise breakout hit when it debuted in the spring of 2022, building a fiercely devoted fan base with its silly yet emotional deadpan, and defiantly queer take on the adventures of real 18th-century pirates. Everyone involved in Our Flag Means Death is eager to preserve the surprises in store for season two, which kicks off with gentleman pirate Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby) and softhearted bad boy Blackbeard (Taika Waititi) ruefully separated after finally realizing their love for each other at the end of season one.

It’s “going to be unexpected and surprising, but also very pleasurable and satisfying for those who like the show,” promises executive producer Garrett Basch. It “doesn’t follow the expected route,” teases Con O’Neill, who plays Blackbeard’s devoted enforcer, Izzy. All that means is we’re not at liberty to share too much about what happened on set that day, which included emotional conversations, new cast members, banter with the Kiwi crew, and some seriously killer costumes.

But these exclusive new images give a hint of what is in store. There are fresh faces—Minnie Driver will guest-star as the real-life Irish pirate Anne Bonny, and Ruibo Qian joins the cast as the mysterious merchant Susan—and a lot of New Zealand actors and locations, now that the production has decamped across the Pacific.

“The viewers will see the scope of their world has expanded based on the fact we’re able to get to these amazing locations within a short travel time,” says executive producer Antoine Douaihy. “You will notice a marked difference between the two seasons in terms of the scope and the scale.’’

Minnie Driver joins the cast this season as Anne Bonny. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

There will be plenty of familiar faces too, of course. On set that day in Kumeu, New Zealand, a rural area about 20 miles outside of Auckland, are Waititi and Darby along their fellow returning cast members O’Neill, Vico Ortiz (Jim), Kristian Nairn (Wee John), Joel Fry (Frenchie), Matthew Maher (Black Pete), Leslie Jones (Spanish Jackie), Samson Kayo (Oluwande), Ewen Bremner (Nathaniel Buttons), Samba Schutte (Roach), and more. New onboard are two Kiwi actors, Madeleine Sami (most recently of the Australian mystery-comedy Deadloch), and Samoan-born Anapela Polataivao. And there’s one returning figure impossible to miss on the soundstage: The Revenge, the stately ship that Blackbeard—a.k.a. Ed—commandeered at the end of season one. In real life it was carefully transported across the Pacific Ocean from the show’s original Los Angeles soundstages.

The Revenge is vast and impressive, much larger in real life than it appears onscreen. But it’s not the only stunning scenery in store. There are around 50 sets involved in the production of season two, including the 30-acre forest behind the Kumeu Film Studio, Piha Beach, and the wild, black-sand Bethells Beach.

Waititi, who also executive produces the series, was part of the push to film season two in his native New Zealand. “Taika is an extraordinary talent and what’s really great about him with his international success is he’s remained very committed to New Zealand and very loyal to our industry,” says Annie Murray, the CEO of the New Zealand Film Commission. “The beauty of filming in New Zealand is that you can find incredible varied locations within a very short driving distance. [And] when you get to those locations you can turn your camera in any direction.’’

Rhys Darby as Stede Bonnet, filming at New Zealand’s Bethells Beach. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

The scope of the season is very evident back on set, as well. There’s a whole other pirate ship in addition to The Revenge, plus sets for a floating market, Stede’s cabin (empty when we visit), and the Republic of Pirates first glimpsed in season one. Behind the scenes it’s a maze of wardrobe, wig rooms, and dressing rooms. In another facility, props are stacked on shelves, ready to be taken away to storage as soon as filming wraps—vases, plates, antique furniture, and piles of mannequins replicating dead bodies which were used in one of the battle scenes.

Costume designer Gypsy Taylor joined the production this season and has designed hundreds of costumes, checking with everyone on set that day to make sure everything is in place before cameras roll. Taylor says each of the principals have six to eight looks in this season, and that every item—every leather belt, wig, bit of jewelry, even a mermaid tail—has been made by her 60-strong workshop. The costumes this season have a “Mad Max, ‘streets of New York’ feel,” says Taylor. “David Jenkins was keen to give the series a cool rock-and-roll vibe…so we had these rock-and-roll elements with an 18th-century twist.’’ As is evidenced in the image below, even Stede’s crew winds up with some unexpected new looks over the course of the season.

Wherever it is these Revenge crew members have found themselves, there’s something that surprised them. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

Two armies are part of the action in season two, all of them needing elaborate costumes—around 150 Chinese pirates and a fleet of 100 navy officers. Even the breeches are in studded black leather, and punkified. Says Taylor, “The theory behind their costumes is they would’ve stolen from other pirates…. Although our Wee John has started to become quite the seamstress, so he’s knitting this season.’’ True enough: Nairn is wearing what looks like a hand-knit sweater on set that day.

Wee John isn’t the only pirate getting into crafts. Nancy Hennah, who has managed the hair and makeup for both seasons, points to Blackbeard’s wig—made in London—and tattoos as Waititi works on set. With 14 tattoos on his right arm and 10 on the left, plus plenty of scars, he needs at least an hour in the makeup chair. “Taika wanted most of the tattoos to look like he’d done them himself,” Hennah says. “Like on slow days on the boat when there’s nothing much to do, they sit around and give each other tattoos.”

She gives a hint of a storm in one episode: “One of the hardest days here in makeup was when they were caught in a storm on the back of the boat. [The cast] were saturated for a whole day, which caused havoc with things like tattoos and hair, wigs and beards.’’

Taika Waititi as Blackbeard, who begins the season with a broken heart. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

By mid afternoon, Con O’Neill is taking a break in his trailer. He pulls his slim, leather trousered legs up to a corner seat. A candle blazes on the kitchen bench as the veteran actor talks about the physical endurance required during the shoot. “It’s been frantic,’’ he says. His signature gray hair barely moves, frozen by the team of hair stylists who arrived on set around sunrise. (All interviews with actors in this story took place before the SAG-AFTRA strike).

Izzy “goes on a remarkable journey” this season, says O’Neill. “He understands what love is and whom he’s in love with.’’ On a series featuring a variety of joyful queer relationships—not just Stede and Blackbeard, but Black Pete and Lucius (Nathan Foad), Jim and Oluwande, and Spanish Jackie and her many husbands—Izzy’s unyieldingly straitlaced devotion makes him an odd man out. By the end of season one many fans speculated that Izzy was driven by something at the intersection of love and obsession. This season, according to O’Neill, Izzy gets even deeper into that dynamic. “Physically it’s been quite demanding, and also emotionally it’s been quite demanding to be playing a man enraged by unrequited love, who’s basically a hopeless romantic, and to be able to play all that and also remember that this is fundamentally a comedy.’’

Though the show is often warm and fuzzy when it comes to feelings—one of Stede’s mottos in season one is that when faced with challenges, “we talk it through as a crew”—Izzy represents the darker, more violent side of pirate life, which the show doesn’t shy away from either. “What I love about this show is it does allow itself to swing between the two,” O’Neill says. “We’re almost operatic in our darkness at times, and then we swing back to the sweetness of the simplicity of the love of our two guys. It’s been challenging just to get the tone right.”

“We’ve gone further this season than we did last season with those tones,” he continues. “So sometimes it’s quite interesting to remind yourself that you have to take your foot out of the tragedy—literally, your foot—and put it back into the comedy.”

With a season behind them to build the dynamics between the characters and the actors alike, on set there’s been “a lot more spontaneity and script revisions based on what’s happening day-to-day,” says Douaihy. “The cast are so comfortable with one another and their characters, that they move through it naturally.’’

Leslie Jones as Spanish Jackie and Taika Waititi as Ed a.k.a. Blackbeard. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

The way O’Neill puts it, they’ve also built trust with Jenkins, their showrunner, to follow some bigger swings. “I don’t think David Jenkins is ever going to follow an expected route. I’d hate to drive in a car with him.” Thinking of the fans who will greet the series when the show returns in October, O’Neill continues, “I think they’re going to appreciate what [Jenkins] wants. Season two does stick to the original premise that we created in season one, which is take it on to other levels.’’

One character leveling up in a major way this season is Jim, the quiet badass (there are knives involved) played by the nonbinary actor and activist Vico Ortiz. “Jim really evolves in season two,” they say. “They’re a bit more chatty and a bit more conversational…. Most of the first season you see Jim in disguise, hiding, but in this one you see them a bit more [thinking,] Oh, this is my chosen family, and I feel good. There’s a bit more zaniness and a bit more softness.’’

Like O’Neill and several other castmates, Oritz had attended their share of fan events by the time season two began filming, and the entire cast and crew returned to the high seas with a strong sense that their show had taken on a life of its own. “It’s so beautiful to see that people are finding community within the fan base. It’s about creating spaces where we feel safe and seen, and it’s so great to see that so many people watch the show and feel validated in their experiences, whatever that may be,” says Ortiz. “A lot of people that watch the show are like, “Yeah, I’m a guy and it’s good to see all these dudes being vulnerable.’ We can just shake up [ideas about gender].’’

Ruibo Qian joins the cast this season as Susan, a merchant with secrets of her own. COURTESY OF NICOLA DOVE/MAX.

Basch admits the fan following surprised some of the team, “but it made a lot of sense” too. After years of television shows and movies that built up the potential of queer romance only to stop short, Basch thinks the fervor for Our Flag Means Death “says that shows in the mainstream aren’t delivering that promise or that setup, and we have. That’s really why the fans have gone wild for it.”

That promise, it’s safe to say, is kept in season two, and then some. On set that day in December, for example, there was a major romantic moment between two key characters. But we’d risk Ed Teach’s wrath if we told you any more.

Source: Vanity Fair

#rhys darby #taika waititi #minnie driver #samba schutte #kristian nairn #matthew maher #ofmd #our flag means death #vanity fair #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 spoiler alert

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