#brit is stronger

[tapeworrmart]

Withnail and I is my fav end of Dec film. I did this art nearly 4 years ago.

[mariocki]

New Scotland Yard: Memory of a Gauntlet (1.3, LWT, 1972)

"I understand this must be a little embarrassing for you, Mr. Bruchner."

"It doesn't embarrass me in the least, I assure you. All this happened over thirty years ago. I, like so many others, was a young and stupid man; I did a lot of immature and stupid things, like becoming an SS trooper."

"Immature?"

"Yeah, of course. I dressed up like a soldier, I had shiny boots, I wore a pistol; I had an elegant uniform, money in my pocket, a little of authority. Plenty of pretty girls. Am I shocking you, Inspector?"

"Just a little, sir."

[artificial-transmutations]

Welcome to the Harem

"Are you quite alright, Sayyid?"

Liam woke up, startled. In front of him, blocking the sun stood a tanned young man with dark hair, looking down at him.

"Excuse me?" answered Liam, still not fully awake. His accent revealed his origins. He was British.

"I'm sorry, Sayyid. I have noticed you have fallen asleep in the sun, and I am worried you might burn your skin."

The other man was probably a few years younger than Liam, possibly in his early twenties. Unlike Liam, who was a tourist visiting this sun-kissed region of Hurghada, he seemed to be from around here: his skin was dark and his body lithe and strong. He had a slight Arabic accent, which added a certain exotic flavor to his words.

"Uh, I guess I dozed off a little."

It was hard to rip his gaze away from the young man in front of him, since he didn't even look half-bad, but Liam knew better than show any signs of homosexuality here. Even coming here, to a resort, as a tourist wasn't entirely without risk, but the British man had made a pact with himself not to let anything stop him from relaxing for the first time in years. And what better place could there be to escape the endless rain of the kingdom than the beautiful, sun-drenched beaches of the Red Sea.

"Ah, Sayyid, I fear that I have noticed too late. Apologies."

Liam was confused for a moment until he looked down on himself. And really: his exposed upper body had turned a bright shade of red.

"Bloody hell", he cursed, before smiling back at the native apologetically. "Sorry for that. You are right, I shouldn't have stayed out in the sun for so long."

His conversational partner seemed to look all over Liam before he smiled the same thin smile from before.

"Do not worry Sayyid, it happens a lot. The sun here is stronger than where you are from. If you want, I can offer some soothing lotion against the burn."

"Well, I'd appreciate that, thank you. What did you say your name was?"

"I am called Hassan." Hassan said. "Please allow me to apply the lotion."

Liam felt a bit uncomfortable, as the young man produced a glass bottle filled with a milky white substance and unscrewed the lid. He knew a bit or two of the Arabic language and knew that the name was rather fitting: Hassan meant 'handsome' in English, and Hassan was, indeed, rather good looking. Liam feared that it might be just a tad too exciting being touched by a handsome guy with lotion, but it was probably exceedingly rude to reject the offer.

"Sure, thanks a lot."

He just had to control himself a bit.

However, nothing prepared him for the feeling when Hassan carefully began rubbing the white substance onto his skin, with careful, almost tender touches. Liam felt the heat radiating off the young man's body while his fingers massaged the lotion onto his body, which, in contrast, felt cool and soothing, and he had to fight an erection forming. It didn't help at all that Hassan seemed to know exactly what he was doing, massaging his skin just the right way.

"There you go, Sayyid. You will feel much better soon."

Liam was fighting very hard but despite his efforts felt himself chubbing up in his tight speedo. Damn it. He should have worn something less revealing. Now he could only pray that Hassan wouldn't notice.

That hope was short lived. With skillful hands, he massaged the lotion into all visible skin, even right next to his tented speedo. While Hassan didn't acknowledge the show of indecency per se, he did take his time on the sensitive skin there, gently rubbing the lotion, and Liam knew exactly what the Arab was doing. He was teasing him, and it worked. The Brit was painfully hard and was glad when Hassan finally pulled away.

"There you go Sayyid. That should allow your skin to regenerate." he said, still with his thin smile. By now, Liam's head was at least as red as his chest, and he couldn't bring himself to directly look at Hassan.

"Ehm, thank you. That was very kind of you. What... kind of lotion is it exactly, by the way? It sure smells interesting."

The question was mainly to change the topic of the conversation to a safe territory, but Lian was also genuinely intrigued. Most suntan lotions he knew smelled fresh and flowery - or not at all. But this one... The smell was strong, and herbal, but with an interesting undertone. It smelled somewhat musky and manly, like a gym or a locker room. And there was something else, something familiar that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Ah, I'm glad you asked. It is a special recipe from my boss, Sheikh Tariq, himself. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's... pretty intense."

"Sheikh Tariq's recipes are always very... powerful, you know. You shouldn't have any problem with your sunburn anymore, but if you want, I can check on you again tomorrow."

"Sure."

Lian felt a strange pull from the handsome Arab and couldn't bring himself to refuse.

"Very well, Sayyid. May I ask your name?"

"Eh, yes, sure. It's Lian."

"Liam, is it?"

"No, Lian, with a 'n'." This was hardly the first time people confused his name, so Lian was used to it by now. Something seemed wrong about that, though, even though he couldn't say what.

"Very well, Lian. I shall return tomorrow."

With a final nod, the young Arab walked away, and Liam watched his toned, muscular body moving before he lay back down. The lotion did feel nice, and he felt his muscles relax and his burning skin soothe. Still, to be extra sure, he moved to the shade before he dozed off again.

Lian was surprisingly hungry at the evening buffet this day and wolfed down plate after plate of local food, which was delicious. When he went to his hotel room afterwards, he just felt wonderful. He decided to take a shower before bed and was amazed to find the redness had disappeared completely, leaving his pale skin smooth and soft. Except... it wasn't quite as pale anymore. Instead, he had acquired a slight tan. It looked good on him, he decided, as it complemented his lean definition and sparse body hair nicely.

That night, Lian had strange dreams. He dreamt that he, somehow, was pale as a piece of paper, thin like a stick figure and, of course, completely smooth all over his body. That was of course nonsense, Lian laughed about himself when he woke up. He probably had some distant ancestors from a sunnier region of the world, since even in winter, his skin never really lost its tan, and was often compared to a surfer's.

It was a good day for sunbathing again, and, secretly, Lian wouldn't mind meeting Hassan again. He packed his towel, his sunglasses and his book, and went outside. However, it wasn't long until he had dozed off again, and when he was woken by Hassan again, it was already afternoon.

"Ah, good evening, Lian. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, yes, a lot. Thanks again for yesterday. You really saved my vacation."

"Don't worry, Sayyid, this is my job."

He looked at Lian with an appraising look but was apparently not too happy with what he saw.

"Would you like another application of the lotion, Sayyid?"

"Yes, thank you, Hassan. That would be lovely."

The Arab was just as good with the lotion as the day before, and as soon as his skillful hands touched Lian's body, his dick grew hard again. However, since it didn't really pose any problems yesterday, Lian didn't even try to hide it today. Besides, it was probably normal, right?

He half registered that the tent in his underwear was much larger than yesterday, but that was probably imagination.

"Do you know what ingredients the lotion contains, Hassan?"

"Yes, Lian. We use a special extract of the Aloe Vera plant, as well as essential oils of local herbs. And then, there are some secret ingredients that only Sheikh Tariq knows about."

"Damn, that Sheikh really knows what he is doing. Are you Bedouins?"

"Yes, in a way. However, we no longer live the traditional nomadic life. Instead, the Sheikh founded an island resort that is open to the most exclusive guests.

"So, he is kind of a businessman then?"

"Yes, that is a way of putting it."

"Wow, that sounds fascinating. I'd love to see that."

Hassan smiled his thin smile, as he carefully massaged the area around Lian's throbbing erection. It was almost like he was amused about a secret joke.

"I can ask him, if you want. Your name was Lian, right? And you come from...?"

"Layan", corrected Layan. "And I'm from the United Kingdom, although my dad immigrated from the UAE."

"So, a man of mixed race then. Very good. I'm sure that will please the Sheikh. If you excuse me, I'll have to make a phone call."

"Sure", Layan agreed. His own slight Arabic accent felt somewhat alien all of a sudden, but it was probably just because he noticed the way Hassan spoke. After all, Layan had it all his life now: Even though he was born and raised in the UK, they only spoke Arabic at home, since his father refused to learn English, even now.

The smell from the lotion was even stronger today than yesterday, and it mixed so well with his own body odor. Layan's tan skin was sweating a lot, like usual, and the small pelt of black body hair was always soaked with his manly smell. He liked it that way: If he didn't have to, he didn't use any deodorant at all. And now, the smell of the spices completed his own odor nicely.

It didn't help that his dick was so hard, and his balls ached. His speedo was obscenely tented and for a moment, Layan feared someone in the resort might find it offensive. Truth be told, the conservative atmosphere in the resort was one of the few reasons that held him back from rubbing one out right here and now, seeing as a wet patch of precum already stained the tip of the tent.

Before Layan could think more about that, however, Hassan came back.

"Good news!" he said, and it took Layan a bit to notice that he had switched to Arabic.

"The Sheikh would be delighted to have you in his resort. We can leave immediately, if you want to. It also might be a more private atmosphere on his island."

The last comment was obviously aimed at Layan's throbbing rod, but Layan surely wasn't one to be easily embarrassed by his own masculinity.

"I would love to come. Let me just grab my stuff." he replied in the language of his father and got off his deck chair. Hassan nodded and waited politely, while Layan hurried to his room to pack his stuff. However, once he had arrived in the privacy of his hotel room, he couldn't help but admire himself in the mirror: He was a fine specimen of man, really:

His skin was a beautiful golden color, his black hair was short and shiny, and his dark, stubbled face gave him an exotic and masculine air. Not to mention his defined chest, his ripped abs, his well-trained arms, and his powerful legs, all covered with a layer of soft, black hair. And in between those powerful legs hung the pride of Layan, a heavy, uncut Arab dick, surrounded by a bush of the same black pubes.

He just couldn't help it. Hassan would have to wait a few minutes longer, he decided, as he closed his fist around the erect shaft and started to pump. He really needed that! He hadn't shot his load since... this morning. No, he was a man, and he needed release every few hours! In a few minutes, his large dick was shooting a stream of cum all over the room, and he sighed happily. He would leave that to the room service to clean up, as he didn't want to delay Hassan any further.

However, once he left the room behind him, he suddenly realized what the smell of the lotion had reminded him of: Cum. Was that the secret ingredient? Well, it probably wasn't, but it was a nice and naughty thought, in any case.

Together with Hassan, he boarded a private yacht that set course to the Sheikh's island. He couldn't help but admire the young man's physique as he steered the boat and licked his lips involuntarily.

Finally, they arrived. The island resort was luxurious, even more than Layan had anticipated it to be: Palm trees lined the white sand beach, and several servants awaited the two guests, who were led to the main building. It was a modern, western style house, but with some traditional middle-eastern touches, like the intricate wooden window panes and the colorful tiling. What Layan noticed, though, was that everyone they met, the many servants and the very few guests, were men, in their prime. There were no children or elderly, and certainly no women. In short: Everyone was hot!

"Sheikh Tariq will be expecting you, Sayyid", Hassan told him, and led him into a private room.

"But before you meet him, let me apply the lotion one more time."

"I'd love that, thank you!", Layan said with a grin.

He was a bit surprised but didn't resist, when Hassan grabbed his speedo and pulled it down, exposing all of Layan's body to the handsome man. His cock was quickly getting hard again.

"I need to apply the lotion to your whole body, this time." Hassan explained and, without hesitation started to work, as the totally nude Layan stepped out of his speedo and widened his stance until he stood legs shoulder-width apart, in his typical power-stance.

This time, Layan was prepared for the wonderful feeling of Hassan's strong hands and his teasing ways and could fully enjoy the sensation. He smirked and let the other man do his work, enjoying the touches with closed eyes.

Due to these, he missed the fact that his body changed drastically under the repeated effect of the lotion: Even more hair sprouted, and his frame quickly packed on more muscles. He even grew a bit taller, still, now significantly bigger than Hassan in every way.

As Hassan massaged his hard cock, a soft moan escaped Layan's lips. The cum-like smell, mixed with his own body odor made him even more horny, and his dick grew even bigger in the skilled hands of Hassan, until it was positively massive, both in girth and length. His old, unimproved, British cock would have fit twice over into that monstrosity.

Layan didn't think much about it, though. In fact, as Hassan progressed, he thought less and less. His thoughts became even simpler and more and more focused on nothing than his body, and his need to *fuck*. Yeah, that was right. Layth was a pure-bred piece of Arab prime beef, created for nothing but one thing: Bringing pleasure to men, and fucking them senseless. His name meant "Lion", and, true to that name, he was nothing short of an animal in bed.

Only when Hassan withdrew his hands, Layth opened his eyes. The smaller man had an obvious erection in his pants, but nodded politely, while licking his lips.

"I'm sure the Sheikh will be pleased with his newest addition to his harem. I can't wait to play with you, once Sheik Tariq had his turn."

Just like that, a vacation can turn into a calling for life. I'm sure the Sheikh will be impressed! You can enjoy a few additional versions of our newest addition to the harem over at my tip jar.

[yzzart]

we need more tom and y/n interviews! and if you can and want, can you write an interview where they're answering fan questions? ❤️

"According to fan questions..."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader.

summary: invited for another interview, you and Tom answer some questions that fans asked you.

word count: 1.095!

"Are we really cliché?" — Tom questioned, looking down, probably getting distracted by a fixed point, and then raised his eyes to you. "Hm, let me see…" — You crossed your legs, holding your elbow with one hand and the other rested on your chin, pretending to think of a promising answer and your boyfriend's laugh exclaimed in your ears. "Oh, yes, we are!" — Your voices rose together at the same time and more laughter settled in the decorated and comfortable room.

"Hi, i'm Tom Blyth." — Tom introduced himself, raising his eyebrows, in an inviting and dynamic way; quickly, turning his head with a shy smile in your direction for your introduction.

"And i'm Y/N!" — The brit's smile widened when your eyes met his.

"And we're here to answer some questions asked by you, the fans." — He explained, looking at the camera and, again, at you; it was, technically, impossible not to be excited about what was to come and even more so because of the suspense of the questions that would be presented.

The questions were about random topics, of course and obviously, you could expect anything. — From behind the scenes to your personal tastes, but, without going beyond the limit. — In fact, it would be fun.

During the editing of the video, frames and excerpts of the questions would probably be shown; making it more explained and organized. — For you and Tom, the people who were working behind the cameras said and repeated the questions.

The first was… — "What was the best thing about this movie?" — Referring to "The ballad of songbirds and snakes."

"The best thing about film was working with Y/N." — He responded quickly, making his british accent even stronger and moving his fingers; you laughed, feeling your cheeks burn a little.

"Ah, the best thing about this film was working with…" — You made sure to form a suspense, having fun with your boyfriend who tilted his head towards you, waiting for your enthusiastic answer. — "…Tom Blyth!"

Tom could no longer contain his bold and bright smile, even biting his lips, and poking your leg with his hand; passing your through the delicate and fascinating fabric of the clothes chosen for the interview. — You tried to pay attention and look for words to extend your answer.

"I guess i can also include how fantastic it was to work with Francis Lawrence…" — You continued. — "…and it's impossible, really, impossible to find words to describe how magnificent it was and acting in a Hunger Games movie was like a dream." — Tom listened with attention and passion, focusing on every word that came out of his mouth. — "The connection we had with the cast was something so precious, they are the best people in the world." — And it was the purest truth. — "Not to mention how intense it was to live in my character."

It was a dream, strongly, fulfilled and conquered for you; and a sentimental wave, of the purest emotion, weakens when seeing what, in fact, you has achieved and won around you. — How many incredible, sweet and important people have come into your life and will remain in it; and you had no words to explain how grateful you were.

Including having met Tom in your life. — God, you could say how grateful you were to have him for hours and hours, reaching the long duration of the video.

"Oh, yes." — Tom leaned on the back of the chair, settling in a little. — "I think playing Coriolanus was, like, really deep and steady because we're talking about a guy who has two faces and acting him being really good knowing that later he will turn into something evil." — He thought about his words. — "But, it was good working with him, on him and with the blonde wig...." — You laughed, together with the people behind the cameras.

The second question was… — "Were there many recording errors?"

"Oh yeah!" — Laughing and shaking your head in affirmation, you responded, ready to recall various behind-the-scenes moments and factors. — "There were so many that i can't name just one or two." — You said. — "But, one of my favorites, and i think they already posted it, was during the harvest scene and Tom was laughing nonstop at Peter."

"Please, everyone was laughing!" — He stuttered. - "Including you!" — You supported your hand on his arm. — "He was funny, the way his character spoke was funny, so i couldn't concentrate properly." — Tom reported looking at the camera, remembering the aforementioned moment and laughing; joining with you. — "One of my favorites was all the times you called me by my name." — He directed his head towards you, who placed a hand on his face.

Not many times, at most, just three times; garnering laughs and recordings from the cast and film crew. — Rachel had already posted two videos where you end up getting confused, a little nervous, and calling your boyfriend by his name. — A normal thing, it didn't need exaggeration or a big alert.

"Come on, it was only three times." — The softness, almost embarrassed, of your voice ran through Tom's ears; he removed your hand from your face and picked her up, giving your a brief caress and admiring the rings that were present. — "And i remember Josh and Hunter called me a loverbird."

"I ended up forgetting this fantastic little detail." — Tom commented.

The third question, — "Is it true that Y/N is going to act in 'Billy, the kid'?"

"In my dreams, yes!" — You crossed your arms, dramatically, and faked a frown for the camera. — "I've already asked a lot, and at least to be part of the supporting actors or just to appear for at least nine seconds!" — Tom laughed and you moved your shoulders, wanting to keep your face serious. — "Do you think i'm joking? I'm not!"

"You really aren't, sweetie." — The oldest confirmed. — "Please, Michael." — He mentioned the director. — "Even i'm begging for it."

And the fourth question... — "What word would you describe each other?"

"I think defining you in just one word is one of the most complicated jobs for me." — Tom's hand removed some kind of stubborn thread, which was stuck in his clothes. — "Is it really just a word?" — He turned, towards the people who worked behind the cameras, who confirmed his question. — "The word enchanting fits you easily."

Blyth leaned back on the back of the chair again, but now leaning his body towards your; facing you completely. — His deep, exuberant blue eyes meet, for the countless time, with yours in that interview. — And your lips formed into such a beautiful smile, shyly showing your teeth against his answer.

You fell in love once again with Tom Blyth, in a full interview.

"Thank you, my love." — The attempt to hide your face and an embarrassed voice failed completely. — "The first thing, word that comes to my mind that can define you is fascinating." — Tom pursed his chin, listening carefully. — "Because everything about you is fascinating and manages to leave me speechless, most of the time, and captivate me too." — Now your boyfriend's arm was holding the back of your chair. — "Everything, everything about you fascinates me and even the discreet gray strands that must be growing in your hair."

"Excuse me?" — Tom questioned, with his mouth open and not expecting your last words, and looked at the camera with a surprised look; already you were laughing at his euphoric reaction, clapping your hands on your knees and almost slouching in your chair.

[witchthewriter]

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐨̈𝐧𝐢𝐠

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

a/n: not a poly relationship - I just decided to have them both in one post. Let me know if you want more xx Also I went through the tags for these guys and there is nothing but SMUT. So I wanted some sweet sfw headcanons for the boys

Warnings: swearing, nsfw included (no one under 18 please).

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

INTJ

Ravenclaw

Neutral Good

Scorpio Sun, Capricorn Moon, Virgo Rising

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲/𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭

・This man is fucking dangerous behind the wheel. And although he is a hot-head occasionally, it isn't when he's driving.

・Simon knows he's shit, so when people honk at him, give him the finger - he just stone-faces it. Let's them berate him because really, he doesn't fucking care.

・However he has lost his licence a few times ... and so you told him he could be your &lt;3 passenger princess <3

・Simon wasn't amused ...

・Very much the protective type, verging on possessive. Not in an abusive way, but he wants everyone to know that you're his. So when anyone flirts with you - or even when they're a little too nice, his jealousy consumes him.

・Scary dog privledges, with and without the mask. This man is intimidating as fuck.

・6'4, wide shoulders and big hands, so it doesn't matter how you look, how tall you are etc - Simon is bigger, taller and stronger.

・Yes he can be a hardass, but when he loves someone, that roughness is somewhat smoothened out. He'd hate to hurt your feelings.

・He only wears his mask to hide his identity; he takes it off when missions are done.

・And when he's home, he rarely wears it.

・Absolutely HATES being jump-scared. And his reflexes take over (you've learnt from the first and last time)

・This goes with random kisses as well, sometimes you just have to make yourself known before touching Simon

・He isn't huge into PDA, but when outside he will gladly hold your hand, bump his shoulder into yours when you make a crappy dad joke.

・The biggest misconception is that he's cold. Well, at work - obviously he is. But at home, with you, he has so much warmth. A lot of life.

・He has great banter. Absolutely has both of you laughing your asses off.

・Calls you "love," "sweetheart," (all in his gruff, chiselled brit accent). And when you're alone, he calls you names like "my love," "hun," "sweet cheeks."

・You're slowly learning about Simon's past, which he shares little by little.

・Too much information and he's scared you might feel overwhelmed and leave him

・There's some deep trauma there, but the army has therapists and everyone gets checked out before they're deemed mentally healthy enough.

・He does want kids, but only after he's done with the military. He would hate to be an absent father in any way. And he wouldn't want you to have that full responsibility.

・A lot of people characterise him as this traumatised man who can barely look after himself. But that is far, faaaaar from the truth. He's very competent. And he eats a LOT. But he also works out (to keep in shape, he actually hates the gym) (also he doesn't expect you to do anything of that stuff. He loves you for you.)

・I also have this headcanon that Ghost/Riley would love Metallica, Slipknot, Black Sabbath etc. It's one of the things that calm him down. However, if he's had an overwhelming day, he needs no noise whatsoever.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Teases Them (You) x About To End Them (Ghost)

The Moon and His Star

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Opposites Attract

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Say Yes To Heaven by Lana Del Rey

Arsonist's Lullabye by Hozier

Enter Sandman by Metallica

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, I bloody mean it. 

・There's almost like two sides of your s/o. The Ghost side, where the mask stays on, and he's rough, possessive, dominant. And then the Simon side, where he likes soft touches and when you gently stroke his face

・You've both discovered that Simon likes it when you wear his mask, gloves - nothing else - and touch yourself.

・Even with your cum juices on the mask, and gloves, he'll still wear them to work.

・It's the only kinky thing he brings with him while on deployment. You did want to take a naked polaroid for him but he didn't trust the other guys not to somehow see it.

・He likes keeping you as separate from army life as much as possible. Because you feel like home, and it gives him hope.

・Ghost loves taming your bratty side. He's short, demanding and can shut you up with one look.

"Keep on actin' like that, and see what happens."

・Of course you keep acting up, and when you get home, you pay for it tenfold.

・Ghost's hands are as big as a paddle, and when he has you over his knee, ass up in the air. He doesn't hesitate in leaving red marks (all consensual. He wouldn't do anything without having a conversation before hand).

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

ISTP

Hufflepuff

Chaotic Good

Aries Sun, Aquarius Moon, Leo Rising

𝐊𝐨̈𝐧𝐢𝐠

・A 6'10 king, who suffers from social anxiety but has this soft, silly side that he loves showing you and only you (I will take no criticisms on his height. It is LAW. My law.)

・Because of his anxiety, social aspects of life are much harder than work. He's highly skilled in combat, and has a lot of confidence in his abilities to accomplish missions.

・However, when you tried to speak to him, all he could do was stutter.

・You allowed him to get the words out, but he was an absolute mess afterwards and went to go train.

・But this didn't deter you in the slightest. Hell, you had been trying to muster the courage to speak to him for weeks...

・It took a while for Konig to open up about his past, especially his adolescence.

・He's told you the jist of it, but there's details that you don't push him on.

・One of your favourite pastimes together is going to bakeries and eating the most delicious pastries.

・When you're feeling down, or there's something to celebrate, there's no cake but pastries instead

・Doesn't mind animals, but understands that when he's away you will get a bit lonely. So you surprised him by getting a pair of kittens!

・You showed him over video chat, one white kitten and one black.

"I haven't chosen names for them yet, but I thought maybe you could have some input?"

"Schatz! The kittens are cute but you have scratch marks all over your arms!"

"They're very playful!" And then you leant closer to the camera and whispered, "I leave scratches on your back ..." And with an innocent look on your face, you watched as Konig shivered.

・Likes to put you on his lap when he's cleaning weapons, or getting the marks out of his mask or shoes. Okay honestly, he just wants you on his lap all the time. Whatever excuse he can come up with - he'll goddamn use it

・Absolutely loves Kate Bush and Stevie Nicks. He thinks they have such a beautiful sound that you can find him with headphones on, swaying in the bedroom, silently in his feels

・All your pet names are in Austrian/German:

"Schatz", meaning 'treasure'.

"Maus," meaning 'mouse.'

"Liebling" meaning 'darling.'

"Hase" meaning 'bunny'.

"Liebe" meaning 'love.'

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Always Bringing Them Rocks They Think They Would Like (You) x Keeps The Rocks (Konig)

The Gomez & Morticia Adams

I Don’t Know What I’m Doing But At Least I’m Alive, Right? (You) x You’re Doing Great, Sweetie (Konig)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Hidden Identity & Forced Proximity

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush

The Chain by Stevie Nicks

Dance of the Druids by Bear McCreary (he loves movie scores as well. It's one of his fascinations).

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Konig is a bit awkward at first with the sexual interactions you guys have. He does have anxiety, but also, the build up of sexual tension had been going on for months.

・All he had during that time was his hands and the memories of how you looked, the way your eyes met his then flicked downward - almost like you had x-ray vision.

・There was no denying the heat.

・So when you first hooked up it was a fumbling mess of grunting, clothes ripping and fast hands trying to touch and grab at any bare piece of flesh.

・You did have a shocking revelation that first time however. Because this man's cock is not only thick, veiny but nearly 9 inches when he's hard.

・That first time wasn't a true first time as the look on your face told Konig everything - you weren't ready for that part of him ... just yet.

・Loves when you ride his thigh; they're absolutely huge. Just muscled and bulky and the first time you saw them (without the uniform) you audibly gasped.

・His body is absolutely divine

・Like it had been sculpted by the gods. Large biceps, long legs, small waist, large shoulders. His hands wrap your neck perfectly.

・You feel so safe with him.

・And you have to remind him that, because sometimes he worries he could hurt you without meaning to.

"I'm a grown up, Konig. I can handle myself."

"So when are you going to let me fuck you?"

"mmm... I think I still have to get used to that. Maybe we can do fingers first..." (his fingers are ... fucking huge).

[nightlyrequiem]

Thinking about how Valeria running away from 141 when they capture her, and stumble into your apartment which happens to be open (cause you always forget to lock the door ironically that u live in las almas) so your kinda freaking out but val is not having it so she shuts u up? Maybe things get spicy if u want to add?

-🦋🦂

She can stumble into my home any day 😛

A high-strung, stressed Valeria seeking shelter in your home? Forced proximity?? Maybe what occurs isn't accurate to how things would in real life, but nobody reads fanfiction for the realism.

Also sorry for leaving this in the inbox for so long!! Requests were closed and I was so busy, but I have the motivation to write despite my business. I really like this concept btw 🤭

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Home Invasion, Smut, Gagging, Scissoring, Choking (Not During The Smut.), Violence, Takes Place During The Alone Mission

Alone (But Not For Long.)

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Valeria feels a stitch in her side as she runs. She feels a quiet sort of rage at Diego's idiocy. She knew there was something suspicious the guy who calls himself Soap and wears a mohawk. Diego let him in. Brought him right to her. Fucking idiot. Her legs work hard to keep her ahead of both Alejandro and his little posse of Brits. Valeria makes sure to keep herself in shape. Keeping herself lean and toned. She absolutely hates Cardio though. 

She quickly ducks into an alley. Valeria has the advantage of having home field. She knows about every single turn and crevice. The gringos do not. She tries her luck with a doorknob and lets herself in. Surprised to find it unlocked. The heavens are smiling down upon her today. Gifting her an idiot that doesn't understand that you should lock your doors. Especially at night. Especially in Las Almas. She leans against the door. Trying not to breathe too loud. Heavy footsteps pound right by. The place is silent. Fairly clean apart from a few articles of clothing littering the ground.

There's a small, shriveled and honestly, sad looking houseplant on the table. It's leaves are browning and droopy. Valeria looks around. There's nothing luxurious or fancy about this home. The furniture looks old and outdated. There's a throw blanket on the couch with tattered ends and an ugly pattern. The art on the walls looks handmade. It's almost admirable to Valeria, who is so used to the... wealthier aesthetic of her own home and Diego's home. Diego. She scowls as she thinks of him. She'll deal with him later. Valeria silently walks around. Inspecting her surroundings. Down the hall she sees a bathroom. Catching a glimpse of bottles and serums on the counter. 

She pushes open a closed door and pauses. It's the bedroom, and sleeping in it is you, one leg peeking out from underneath the blankets. She's about to turn and leave when you open your eyes. You and Valeria stare at each other for a few long seconds. Valeria swiftly darts towards you and clamps a hand over your mouth. Cutting off a frightened wail.

"Be quiet or I'll kill you." She says straight to the point. Valeria stiffens as heavy footsteps run past the window. Shadows passing through the curtains. Orders are barked with frustration.

She gasps in pain as you sink your teeth into her hand. She jerks back and you take the opportunity to flee. Throwing yourself off the bed and landing with a thump. You grunt in pain and take a second or two to get back to your feet. Unfortunately for you, a second is all Valeria needs to pounce on you. You both struggle, you to break free and her to keep you under control. Valeria's hands work hard as they grip your forearms. Keeping them pinned to the ground. You're stronger than you look - she actually struggles to keep you down. She's had enough and wraps her hands around your throat. Applying enough pressure to stop your struggling. 

When she sees that you're about to pass out she lets go and listens to you take in loud breaths.

"Are you going to be quiet?" She asks darkly. when you don't reply she repeats herself more aggressively. "Are you going to be quiet, bitch?"

Your lips part as you stare up at her. "...Yeah." You rasp. Voice rough from being choked. She glares at you.

"Good." She grunts. Moving off of you. Valeria grabs you by the hair and pulls you to your feet. Strong arms wrapping around you to keep you from running off. She unholsters her pistol and presses it into your soft side. She presses her face up to the side of your head. "You're going to stay quiet." She whispers the warning.

The door Valeria originally entered through slams open. Valeria thinks quickly and roughly pulls you into the closet with her, keeping you pressed right up against her front, on hand keeping the gun pressed against your side, the other splayed across your lower back. Through the slits in the closet door, she watches as a man quietly steps into the room. Soap. His gun is raised, and he surveys the room.

"Fuckin' Shadows." He mutters. Voice thick with rage and pain. His radio crackles to life. A deep, gravelly voice speaks to him.

"Found anything useful yet, Johnny?"

Johnny grabs a thin, long-sleeved shirt on the ground and rips a strip from it.

"A shirt." He replies. "I'm in an apartment, looks like the owner fled."

The owner trembles slightly in Valeria's hold and she feels sweat on the nape of her neck. Stressed that you'll make a noise and alert Soap.

"Smart move on the owner's part." The man on the radio replies. She recalls who it belongs to. The big guy with the skull face. "Get what you need and head to the church. I'm holding out for you there."

Soap quickly ties the strip of fabric around his waist to slow down the bleeding from a bullet wound. He takes one last glance around before leaving. Valeria counts to sixty before pushing you out from the closet. She drags you to the bed and forces you down next to her. 

"We're going to sit here and wait.

"Wait for what?" You ask, confused. "what's going on?" 

"Be quiet." She snaps.

After a few minutes of silence Valeria relaxes a bit. Letting her guard down. An action that proves to be a mistake. You abruptly make a grab for her gun. Trying to wrestle it from her hands. You're surprisingly strong and in an attempt to keep it from you, she accidently knocks both of you to the ground. The gun slides out of her grip. You two grapple together. Trading blows and punches, Valeria's significantly more painful. She's furious at you but also a little turned on. It's been a while since someone's fought back like this. You land a hard punch to the side of her head, snapping it to the side. You both go still and she touches the side of her face, expression unreadable.

Valeria looks down at you. At your parted lips, heaving chest, wide eyes. Without thinking she leans down and captures your lips in a heated kiss. She expects you to pull away or push her off, but you do the unexpected and kiss her back. Valeria should be trying to figure out her next course of actions. But you spread your legs, and Valeria is slotted right against you. Valeria pushes her tongue into your mouth while your hands wander underneath her thin tactical vest. Smoothing her sweater over her ribs. You give the vest a small tug and Valeria complies. She sits up, leaving a thin string of saliva to connect your mouths. She fumbles with the clips and straps and slides it off, taking her belt off too. Both are pushed to the side.

Before Valeria can return to your lips, you're pushing her down and straddling her. Hurriedly pulling off your shirt. The cool air hits your chest and your nipples harden. You reach beneath you and awkwardly pull her pants off. You run your fingers through her folds, feeling the slickness against them. Valeria gasps and arches her back as you rub firm circles against her clit. She can feel more slick dripping from her cunt. The gun lies off to the side in her peripheral vision, forgotten about completely.

You shift lower to press your cunt to hers. Grinding against her. Your folds sliding together wetly. a mess accumulating quickly beneath Valeria. You ride her with a fervor. Her eyes focused on the tantalizing movement of your breasts. You lean down for a better angle, pressing close enough for your nipples to brush against her chest. You whine loudly and Valeria's hand shoots up, covering your mouth. She pushes you off and grabs the remains of the shirt Soap used. Gagging you. With your back resting against the bed, she slots herself between your legs. Closer than ever. With you at no risk of making noise she roughly grinds into you. Using your leg as leverage. Her pace is bruising and quick. A few, muted noises make it past your gag. Your eyes rolling back.

Valeria can feel your leg twitching. You're about to come. She groans lowly as she nears her own climax. Your head presses against her shoulder. Valeria's legs are getting tired, but she keeps at it. Her hole fluttering around nothing as your clits grind together. Finally, the tension snaps. Blood pulses in her clit as she comes, riding out her orgasm with your body.

She slowly pulls away, grimacing at the wet sound she makes as she does so. She rests beside you. Head next to yours. Out of the corner of her eye she watches you struggle with the makeshift gag. Finally getting it off. You wipe yourself clean with it. Collecting your combined juices.

"... Want something to eat?" You murmur.

[semischarmed]

Thread

Don’t blame me for this one, you guys voted for something diabolical.

= = = = =

The references were esoteric. In fact, I had to hide my true research from the university, under the guise of reclassifying “ritualistic” items. The irony did not escape me. I was actually looking to access a “ritualistic” item that was classified as mundane. 

Legends spoke of a god of flesh. One that manipulates the body as one would manipulate clay. Its name has long since been lost to time, but there are echoes of his work in the myths of old. We often hear of a creator god shaping man from the earth, of half-human hybrids and giants and other such peculiarities. Glimpses of this god of flesh. I had only read into such a figure from a blog by happenstance. A miracle of probability. 

I eyed the needle, now in my hand. It was unassuming but carried a supernatural weight to it, like the weight of time immemorial. I grinned, practically moaned as I pricked my finger with the needle. 

I expected some sort of magical fanfare, maybe a gust of wind but found none. I stared at my hands and then I noticed it. My hands. My flesh. I could feel all of it. I stared intently as I pinched the skin above my finger, I willed the pleat to hold its shape and smiled. I was ready.

- - - - 

I thought through the myths, now partial realities in my head. Though I felt myself brim with power, I knew the drawbacks- there had to be a reason the myths had not made it to present day. The answer appeared in my head. There is only so much one man can do, and being giftedoften made one a target. A word echoed in my head. “Protection”. That did seem to match my records. Humans of old would change their flesh to be stronger, more resilient, adapting to every circumstance thrown at them. But the weakness persisted. One prick to channel the same power as the god of flesh, and another prick locks you from that power again. I smiled to myself. I just needed to get… creative. 

Joey Cooper was well-known around the college. A fifth year senior majoring in Sport Science. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he always meant well. He had an air of confidence to him that often aided his statuesque form. Despite this, something else drew my interest even further. His unattainability. The man was often called by his nickname “old faithful,” having been in a relationship with his girlfriend Britney for as long as any can remember. Guys and girls from all walks of life have tried to tempt “Juicy Joe” (A nickname he wasn’t aware of). None of have succeeded. 

And then there was Charlie Cooper, his younger brother, a freshman with the face of an angel. He had unattainability in a different sense. Kind eyes and gentle curly locks framed a face that often wore a worried expression. Unlike his brother, he was timid, and a bit reserved. He had a lack of confidence that seemed to be a hindrance to his social life. Charlie would often shied away from conversation, despite others regularly visiting his dorm. Charlie roomed with Joey in the school dorms, a rarity for this campus. I overheard a conversation with Charlie once on this oddity. Beneath his unintelligible mumbling he mentioned something about being “faithful to Brit” and getting Charlie “out of his shell”.

I bit my lip thinking about the prospects.

— - - - - -

“Oh hey Joey!” I waved casually as I approached a Joey returning to his dorm room, face flush and covered in a sheen. He must have just come from the gym. He was consistent with his workouts, so it was no surprise he would still be in campus after finals to get one last pump in.

“Hey dude! Uh, sorry I don’t remember names to well”. He replied back in a friendly manner. I shook my head at that.

“No need to apologize. I don’t think we’ve ever formally met.” He looked back at me expectantly, hand outstretched to greet. I shook it as I continued. “My name’s gonna be Joey too”. He nodded and smiled politely but the man’s face couldn’t hide his visible confusion.

I clung onto the lack of rejection on Joey’s part as an invitation for myself. As he continued into his room, I followed, allowing the door to close behind us. The silence from the near empty dorm was deafening. He turned around, again making a polite smile. “Uh hey again… Joey… can I help you?”

I dropped all pretense, rushing to his bed and taking a whiff. “Fuck dude, you smell so hot”. Everything in the room carried a small sample of his scent. Like a gentle sweaty musk overlaid with his detergent. I looked to the sweaty Joey, inching closer and taking a whiff of his fresh personal scent. Divine. I felt my jaw unlock in a small moan. His post workout scent was like a concentrate of the pleasant musk I smelled before. Like raw testosterone and shallow breaths, and a hint of earthiness that exuded power. Juicy Joe. I was drunk on the scent, mind transfixed, until I caught him staring. He was starting to get upset.

“Hey bro, you should probably lea-“ He froze as he saw me extend a nerve out of my hand, like a red root outstretched into the air. “The fuck?”

He began stepping back but as soon as my nerve landed on his arm, he struggled back into stillness. I smiled in euphoria as I felt every individual root of my vein burrow into his skin and connect with his. Checkmate. He watched as more and more of my nerve rooted into his flesh, screaming as he felt the violation to his sense of touch. 

“No one can hear you bro, it’s after finals, remember?” I twirled the needle in front of him before setting it on the table. “Can’t have you taking a shower and removing your natural cologne”. Joey was still frozen as he saw me begin to undress. Juicy Joe had a body brimming with power, and I knew it would burst at any moment. I took care as I undressed, rooting and unrooting my nerves, and making sure to always keep at least one red thread of control on him at all times. 

Joey glared as he saw me finish placing my clothes in a neat pile on the floor. “Your turn”.

“What the fuck dude!? What makes you think-“ He was cut off as the red strings bridging our flesh began to writhe. In turn, he felt his meaty arms begin to move, and pull down his compression shorts. The feeling was altogether unfamiliar, as he felt his own flesh betray him and move to my will. I willed him to hand me the soaked shorts. Even with the power of the god of flesh on my side, I could feel Joey struggling for control through sheer willpower alone. I laughed a little in my head. There are other ways to break a man. 

I brought his heavenly scented shorts up to my face, gorging myself on the potent raw musk of man. Like a pungent blast of earth and humidity and testosterone. A Joey-concentrate. I could practically feel the potency of it clawing at my nostrils. A sweat-laden Joey reeked in the best way. I must have been lost in pleasure, because my eyes refocused to his pleading face. “P-please man, just stop whatever this is. What do you want?”

I laughed. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s you. I want you. Every part of you.”

A few more nerves shot from my legs, and directly into his. With some new tethers in place, I pulled the threads connecting my arms to his, and quickly slipped under his sweaty workout shirt. I clung to his muscled chest for dear life. ‘Bless these stretchy workout shirts,’ I thought to myself. I felt along the ridges of his spine, across his shoulders which screamed power, and with my hands, I greedily caressed the flesh previously only touched by Britney. I gripped our embrace tighter. Joey was screaming and writhing, soaking the shirt further and my body in his struggle. I moaned as he screamed, as every turn and twist his body made also pushed my chest closer to his, confined by his own workout shirt. I sighed dreamily as his struggle compressed us closer together.

With the power of the needle, I made myself much more malleable and began to slip my arms to into the arm sleeves of his shirt. I spiraled them across his meaty biceps, possessively claiming every square inch of his flesh as my own. I did the same with my legs, wanting to bind us further.

The sight must have been bizarre- two men, naked from the waist down, both in the same sweaty workout shirt. And the smaller man, stretching and wrapping his arms and legs over the other.

“Now for some real fun” I stated, as I shot out as many of my nerves into him as I could. He screamed at the sensory assault as he fell unconscious. I merely continued rooting into him, relishing in being able to feel every inch of Mr. Unattainable. I slowly stumbled our bodies toward his mirror, making sure to have him grab his own phone.

= = = = =

When Joey came to, he saw my head hanging to the side in front of his, and his body enveloped by mine. He panicked when he saw more threads from my face rooted into his neck and mouth. “Fuck Joey, I can feel how strong your lungs are. Even your breaths feel like a top jock” I moaned. 

Like raindrops, I felt his tears stream down his cheek and onto my face. “L-Let me go man. Look I’m sorry for whatever I did to you. I swear I don’t remember doing anything.”

I laughed callously. “No need to apologize, bro. You haven’t done anything to me. I just want you all to my own.” I brought his phone up to his face so he could see the name on the call screen. Britney.

“Babe?” She answered. “What’s up?”

“H-HEL-“ He tried to holler. Instead, his neck swelled and throat strained as he my red thread began to writhe. 

“Joey? Is everything all right?” She asked in a worried tone.

“Fuck yeah it is,” Joey’s mouth laughed, while his eyes showed fear. I continued to use him as my mouth piece. “You’re so boring, Brit. Just called to tell you it’s over.” Tears began to well in his eyes. I could practically hear the tears in Brit’s eyes over the phone.

“Joey… I. Is something wrong? You never call me Brit. I told you how my dad used to…” She trailed, trying to rationalize the situation.

I continued the puppet show as Joey’s eyes continued pleading with me. “Nothing’s wrong, Babe. In fact, it’s finally all right over here.” He stated with a smile. Joey’s eyes winced at the venom spewing from his mouth.

Joey grunted as he tried to stop his free hand from fondling my ass. “Do you know how many girls and guys wanted in these pants, Brit? Do you know how hard is to always turn someone down. They all want a piece of Juicy Joe.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess you mentioned it once…” She sniffled. “But I thought we were fine” said a choked up Britney.

“Fuck no this isn’t fine. Look at me. I’m a fucking bull.” Joey was forced to say, while sticking his tongue out. I briefly stopped his hand from groping my cheek to force it into a biceps flex. He tried to squirm his head away but was ultimately forced to lick it and moan. I huffed and whispered in his ear. “I bet you taste fucking salty, Joey.” 

“Babe, what’s wrong? You never talk about your body that-“

“Brit, just shut the fuck up”. That seemed to shut her up. “Always fucking whining too…” I made Joey huff. The upper half of his head was sobbing now. I forced his free hand back over my ass, and used his other hand to set the call to speaker. “It’s over”.

Joey dropped the phone on the table- still mid call, as I willed his other hand to cup my other cheek. Squeeze. “Fffuuuuck” I moaned. “You’re fucking mine, Joe.” Like his musculature, I commanded my cock into a malleable state, snaking over his, encircling it like a fleshy sleeve. Then, all at once, my red threads of control stirred, as Joey fucked his thick jock dick into my makeshift cocksleeve. “I’m fucking yours”. I made him say. My eyes fluttered in drunken bliss.

“Joey- who is that?”

I felt his head struggle as he tried to stop his body from growing hard. At this, I made sure he had full control of his cock. His plump ass cheeks tightened as his body was forced to thrust into me. I saw him wince, but we both felt the change. Even without me controlling it, his cock stirred to life.

I willed my flesh puppet to answer. “Oh, him? I’ve been fucking him during this call, Brit. That’s how boring you are. Stupid too- we’ve been fucking for months and you never noticed” I make him say it to his reflection as well, topping it with a sleazy grin he never wore. I also made a point to moan, to force him to thrust his hardening dick into me in loud, boisterous grunts. “Fuck. Brit. You. Never. Felt. This. Good”. I make him gasp in between breaths. 

“So you’re fucking him, right now?” She asked, now turning to anger.

“Mmph… YES” I let him shout, as I tightened my fleshy trap around his engorged dick and milk his seed dry. To add to the injury, I released control of his mouth at the same time, so in that moment, he felt himself scream bloody pleasure and coat my flesh in his juices.

“YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD TO ME,” Britney shouts, before hanging up.

Perhaps it was due to the pleasure, or the bombardment of his senses, or the sheer perversion of the situation, but Joey’s eyes rolled back to its whites and his head slumped into my shoulder. 

I basked in the moment, coated in the sweat and baby batter of Mr. Unattainable. Breathing in sync with his unconscious form. With his head still slung forward, I willed his upright form to give my ass another squeeze. “Take me, bro. I’m your fucking meat puppet. Feel me. Use me. These muscles, this body. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.” I make Joey say. Mr. Unattainable wholly mine.

I kept him upright, facing the mirror without a care for how sore his post-workout body already was. I made sure he stirred awake, to still see himself playing and groping my fleshy form, bonded together supernaturally by the god of meat. He sobbed silently at our union.

With Joey whimpering and broken, I began to retreat into my original form, letting his arms and legs and chest free. All that connected our two naked bodies now was just a single thread of red. But just one thread was all I seemed to need. I no longer felt resistance from his body, as his sullen face just looked to me with defeat. 

I made him reiterate my will. “I’m all yours,” Joey mumbles. I puppetted him to close the distance, and pull my back towards his abs. Joey did not resist as body grinded into mine. He clumsily grabbed my head for a sloppy kiss. And once again, I tasted and experienced something only Brit previously had. His tears smeared into my cheek as I started making him kiss me. My eyes fluttered closed as I was in ecstasy. True pleasure. His lips slowly pried mine open, then the tip of his tongue touching mine. In our deranged intimacy, I savored the taste of Joey’s mouth and of his tongue now forced mine. I didn’t want this to end. Joey’s body pulled back from the kiss and began groping itself, repeating his new mantra. “I’m all yours.”

Still repeating his mantra, my eyes locked with his, before he grabbed the needle from the desk and pricked his hand with it. In that instant, I heard the door unlock. 

What were the chances? Another miracle of probability. There was a single late final on campus, for an upper div class that freshmen rarely took. And yet, it seemed there was one freshman that did happen to take such a class.

Just my luck. 

Charlie.

= = = = =

A two-parter. Could not for the life of me get usable photos of “Joey” in a compression shirt, so you’re gonna have to use a little imagination for that one haha.

[iifishizzleii]

i think most people forget that soap (from the reboot) is, like, really fucking strong. and i don’t blame them! lots of scenes with soap have ghost in it, and ghost dwarfs him. so, everyone’s immediate reaction is “oh, ghost is bigger, therefore stronger than soap”.

look at the amount of gear ghost wears, though. it’s his uniform, vest, then combat gear. he looks so damn huge because he’s really fucking padded. soap, on the other hand?

bro is only wearing a shirt and pants under his gear in some scenes, and he’s practically bulging in it. he’s also 6’2ft. idk why ppl write him off to having to “look up” at ghost, as if the brit isn’t only two inches taller than him😭

anyways, just a little reminder to some that johnny ‘soap’ mactavaish isn’t a twink!! neither are… any of the guys. yea. :D

[holdmytesseract]

Could you please do tom x reader where they are friends to lovers? Maybe the pretend boyfriend that turns real? Smutty and fluffy?

Hide & Seek

Tom Hiddleston x fem!Reader

Summary: Tom asks you to accompany him to Ben's birthday party. On the way there, you get stuck in traffic. A misunderstanding reveals long harboured feelings and things come how they had to come...

Warnings: mutual pining, thirst, fluff, jelousy? a misunderstanding, smuttish/suggestive stuff

Word Count: 3,1k

a/n: You guys wanted it and I am a woman of my words, so... Here it is! 🫡

I hope you like what I wrote for you @huntress-artemiss . 🥰 And I hope that everybody else enjoys it of course, too!

Tags: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @smolvenger @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @evelyn-kingsley @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @lokiforever @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @crimson25 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @coldnique

Masterlist °☆• Hiddles Masterlist

You heard the familiar 'ding' sound of your phone; announcing the arrival of a new message. With a hairpin pinned between your teeth and one hand in your hair, you quickly scooted over to your little make-up table, on which you had left your phone. Tapping on the screen, you immediately saw the message popping up.

'I'm here, darling. Are you ready? x'

You smiled, fixated your hair and quickly unlocked your phone; texting back.

'Almost. :) Gimme five mins, Tommy. x'

Not wasting any time, you applied some decent make-up, gave yourself a once over in the full-length mirror, grabbed the things you'd need and made your way towards the main door of your small, cosy house.

You had promised Tom - your best friend since you were teenagers, to accompany him to the birthday party of Ben. He didn't want to go alone - and you couldn't say no, of course. You never could say no when it came to Tom. Never. You'd anything for him. He was one of the most important people in your life. He was your sunshine on a rainy day. Your lighthouse in the raging storms. A safe haven to which you could always return.

A lot of people told you that this friendship wasn't going to last. After all, Tom was an actor. A famous actor. And you were just... you. But you proved them all wrong. The friendship lasted; survived every sharp turn, bump and crash on the way. A deep bond was formed; stronger than everything you ever experienced - and yet you were just best friends. Sure there had been opportunities to take this friendship to another level and turn it into something more, but neither of you took the opportunity.

You couldn't deny, though, that you had developed strong feelings for the handsome Brit over the years. Romantic feelings. How could somebody not fall for a man like Tom? He was a charming, kind, funny, talented, handsome gentleman with a heart of pure gold. You didn't dare to confess your feelings, because you didn't want to lose your best friend. Better have him as a best friend in your life than not at all, right?

So, the years flew by. Boyfriends came and boyfriends went. Just like with Tom. It was a heart wrenching pain whenever you met Tom's new girlfriend - and you hated it, but what were you supposed to do? All you wanted for him was happiness; but neither of you seemed to find happiness - at least when it came down to romantic relationships...

Another 'ding' of your mobile ripped you out of your thoughts. Shaking your head softly and trying to focus again; you opened the door and stepped out - only to almost stumble back inside.

A soft, cool breeze brushed past you; swirling your beige dress around your knees. The smell of rain hit your nose and some dark clouds hung in the sky; shielded the sun from shining down on you.

That wasn't what took your breath away, though. It was Tom, who stood not far away from you. Just a few meters; legs crossed, leaning casually against his black Jaguar with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his suit trousers.

Speaking of trousers... He was wearing a dark blue suit. Black dress shoes shone against the wet pavement; suit trousers hugging his long legs and hips snugly - held together by a black leather belt. The matching dark blue shirt wasn't any less tight; tailored perfectly for his lean yet strong upper body and forcing the small buttons to hold on for dear life. A tie and suit jacket in the exact same colour completed his look.

You swallowed a thick lump; had a hard time to control yourself and the rapidly beating heart within your chest. Luckily, Tom wasn't looking your way and didn't notice your distress. His gaze was directed to the street as he watched the cars drive by. The position showed off his ridiculously beautiful face; sharp jawline, high cheekbones - peppered with soft and fuzzy looking facial hair of his three-day beard. Tom's wild, blonde-brown curls had gotten so long; a hairsbreadth away from touching his broad shoulders. He looked like a prince, straight out of a fairytale book; combined with the perfect image of a photo shoot.

You bit your lip painfully hard; trying desperately to suppress the moan which threatened to slip past your lips.

It was insanely hot - and Tom didn't even notice the impact this had on you.

"Hey, Tommy," you finally greeted him; attracting his attention. Sure, you could've stared longer and admire the fine man he was, but you didn't want him to accidentally look and notice...

His head whipped around towards you; baby blues meeting your Y/E/C ones. "Hello, darling." A smile spread across his face, as he made his way over to you; giving you a hug. The hugs he gave his other friends didn't last quite as long as the hugs he gave you... You just didn't notice.

"Are you ready?" You nodded; smiling. "I was born ready. You should know that by now." You loved to tease him from time to time. Tom just chuckled; shaking his head. "I won't start now to recount the times you weren't ready. Let's go." You just giggled and followed your best friend to the car.

Being the gentleman the Brit was, he held the door open for you to sit inside his Jaguar. Once you were both seated, Tom started the engine and drove off towards the party.

Unfortunately, was the traffic on this fine Friday evening very bad; causing the both of you to get stuck. Like... Really stuck. Everything stood still. The little highway you were driving on was closed.

"Ugh, great... Now we'll be surely late to the party..." Tom gave you an apologetic look. "Apologies, Y/N/N... I should've taken the other route when I had the chance. Now it's too late... Can you text Ben?" He asked you, handing you his phone; gaze fixated on the cars in front of him. You shook your head, "No need to apologise, Tommy. You couldn't know. But yeah, I'm gonna text him." and unlocked Tom's phone as if it was your own. Not that you knew each other's password by heart... "Thank you, darling."

You tapped on WhatsApp, searched Ben's contact and entered the chat. Of course you tried hard to not read the last messages he received and sent to give your best friend some privacy, but when your eyes caught a glimpse of a text just above the text box you were writing your text in, you couldn't help but to look. You knew it was wrong, but before you were able to stop yourself, it was already too late and your gaze wandered...

Ben: So... You're gonna take her finally home then, right??

Tom: What, I- Ben stop that. I... I can't just do that. I don't think she'd want that... Me...

Ben: Friend... Are you kidding me? It's obvious she wants you.

Tom: You, uh, think so?

Ben: Know so. Shoot your shot, man, before it's too late...

You didn't have to read more. Swallowing hard, you stared at the messages for a moment. You knew exactly who Tom and Ben were obviously talking about... Chloe. A woman Tom had met on set a few months back. She was - well, is one of the costume designers and therefore saw Tom quite often. Someday, they started to talk during a break and well... According to Tom the sparks had been flying. He had told his best friend everything, of course - while you wished he hadn't. You tried to be happy for him - like you always did when he met a new woman, but... As much as you tried, your head never could win the battle against your heart. It was an undefeatable opponent. A invulnerable fortress.

You never met Chloe - and yet you despised her wholeheartedly. It wasn't fair, of course, but love had turned you into a monster.

"Y/N? Hey, Y/N/N."

You flinched and snapped out of your thoughts as Tom's soft velvet voice urged to your ears. "Is everything alright?" You blinked, nodded, "Yeah, sure. Sorry, I, uh, just drifted off." and sent the text. Giving him a fake smile, you exited the app and handed him his phone back. "Are you sure?" "Yep. Everything's good, Tommy."

You hated to lie to him, but you couldn't just tell him the truth now, could you?

'Hey, Tommy, I'm sorry but I spied on your texts and saw that one message, saying that you are going to obviously shag that bitch Chloe and now I'm kinda jealous, because it should be me instead!'

Nope, certainly not. But you also couldn't shake that thought of. It occupied you. A lot. Your brain thought about it non-stop; causing your heart to crack and shatter even more with every passing minute. You could not stand the thought of another woman in Tom's life. In his home. His bed. His heart.

You tried your best to put on a brave face, but your best friend wasn't blind. Neither stupid. He knew you better than you probably knew yourself...

At first the Brit didn't say anything. Given the fact that you clearly told and signalled him that you didn't wish to talk. But at some point, an undeniable, unpleasant tension started to built up between you both. Almost like an imaginary wall... It felt like every untold word, every unspoken feeling had pent up over the last weeks, months - years and were now about to culminate in the middle of an upcoming rain storm. Right here, right now; while being stuck in traffic.

Tom just couldn't take it any longer. He needed to know what had turned everything upside down all of a sudden. Why everything felt so wrong at this very moment.

"Y/N?" He asked you carefully once again. "I know you said everything is okay - and I feel that you clearly don't wish to speak to me, but-" "No, really, Tom. It's all good," you interrupted him once more; giving him another fake smile - and you could tell at the look of his face, that he had seen immediately through that fake smile. But before he was able to say something, you intervened; only digging the gaping hole in your heart deeper.

"Did you go on a date with Chloe?"

Tom frowned; was clearly confused of the sudden change of topic. "Y-Yes, but-" "Great. How did it go?" "Um, great, I-I guess, but why are you-" "Good. That's good. I'm happy for you Tom." You swallowed hard; feeling your heart scream in pain - but no matter how hard it hurt you, you just had to know what happened between them. You wanted to spare yourself the double gut punch. Might as well feel all the pain at once.

"But, Y/N... Why-" You chose not to leave him any space to question you and just get over with it. "Did you kiss her?" "W-What?" "Touch her?" "T-Touch her? Why would I-" "Sleep with her?" "I-" "Was she at least good in bed?" You kept on bombarding your best friend with questions. "Y/N-" "Was she, huh?" "Y/N, I-" "Did she made you cu-"

"Y/N!"

Tom suddenly exploded; screamed out your name and slamming his hands on the steering wheel of the Jag. He clearly had heard enough; couldn't listen to this any longer.

You went silent; didn't even dare to breathe for a second.

"I didn't sleep with her! I didn't touch her! Goddammit, I didn't even kiss her! Nothing happened between us! Nothing!" The Brit took a deep breath; trying to calm himself down again. You just stared at him; mouth closed shut.

"Yes, we met. Yes, it was great. But I wouldn't even call it a date. We talked and drank a glass of wine. Nothing more." You swallowed hard. "B-But, I-I thought you and Chloe were-" "A thing? No. We're not, Y/N." You blinked; were quite stunned at the sudden turnout of this situation - and once more was your mouth quicker to speak than your brain was able to think and so it came how it had to come...

"About who did you and Ben talk about then in your chat, if not Chloe?"

It slipped past your lips - and you immediately regretted it; afraid of Tom's reaction.

Tom's eyes widened to the size of plates; hands twitching to grip the steering wheel tight, while his cheeks turned beet red. The Brit had not thought about this conversation he had with his his friend - and now you knew.

"Shit, Tom, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to spy on your chats, I-I just saw it a-and was wondering about who-"

"You."

You blinked once more. "W-What?"

Tom turned to face you again; oceanic blue eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones.

Now or never, Tom thought.

"You, Y/N. We were talking about you."

You could've sworn that your heart skipped more than just one beat at his words. "M-Me?" You squeaked out; pointing at yourself. "Me?" "Yes. You. And the party today." Your eyes widened; jaw slacking in disbelief. "Y-You wanted to... Me?" Tom nodded; smiling nervously. "I always just wanted you, darling. No other woman on this earth is able to compare to you. My heart fell for you a long time ago. It belongs to you. Always has. Always will. I was just too afraid to tell-" Before he was able to finish his sentence, you had pulled him closer by the lapels of his stupidly sexy suit jacket and literally slammed your lips on his.

Tom was definitely shocked and overwhelmed at first, but he immediately relaxed; sighed in the kiss and pulled you as close as somehow possible with the car interior being quite a bit in the way.

All suppressed feelings and emotions finally broke free and melted into that very kiss. It felt like getting hit by an 18-wheeler truck and floating through heaven at the same time. It was a beautiful, chaotic mess, which the both of you enjoyed every second of - and tempted you to indulge into kiss after kiss after kiss.

You felt how your heartbeat quickened at the feeling of love and desire for the man beside you, as they were finally able to flood your body; veins pulsating with a dangerous mixture of endorphins and oxytocin - and Tom's musky smell, combined with the fruity blood orange and leather touch of his perfume didn't help at all. It made everything worse, without a doubt. Resisting Tom had been always difficult - but now that the chains were broken, it was impossible. And why should you stop yourself? There was no holding back anymore. The cards laid on the table.

You pushed Tom back into the driver seat; catching him by surprise. Your hand started to play with his tie; quickly undoing it. Tom's eyes watched your fingers tracing the buttons of his shirt; steadily wandering lower as he was swallowing hard. "Darling, w-what... what are you- Woah!" Tom had clearly anticipated that your hand would land at a place where he had often imagined it to be late at night, when he was all alone at home. But it didn't. You gave his belt a soft tug, but then moved your hand over his thigh and down to where the lever was, which allowed his seat to slide back; bringing even more space between him and the steering wheel.

Another thing the Brit hadn't seen coming - just like the next move you made.

Within the blink of an eye, you had slipped out of your high heels and elegantly swung yourself over; sitting on your former best friend's lap. It caused your dress to ride up your thighs - and Tom's eyes to widen. He literally froze in place; realising in which position you just brought yourself and him. You placed your hands on his shoulders, tugging at his suit jacket; trying to get him to shrug it off - what he did. "Y/N, w-what are you doing?" Tom knew of course very well what you were doing, but he needed to hear it. "What does it look like? I'm, uh, saving the car and riding you instead."

Tom's eyes almost popped out of his head at your bold words. Nevertheless, he couldn't deny that it stirred something deep inside him. And his dress pants.

"Darling, I-I don't know if we should do this here, I-" You raised a playful eyebrow at him.

"Oh, Tommy please... Don't be so shy now. You can't tell me that you never imagined doing this..." You leaned in closer; whispering into his ear: "Me. On top of you." The Brit couldn't help the moan which slipped past his lips. "I-I did, I-," he panted out; feeling one of your hands opening his belt; metal clinking. "See? Besides, the windows are tinted. Nobody's going to see this. Plus, we are stuck anyway, so... What are you waiting for?" You asked in a hushed voice; tracing your lips down his pulse point. "Touch me."

Another breathy moan escaped Tom's lips; big hands flying up to grab your bare thighs and working on slipping your dress even higher up your hips. His warm, slightly sweaty palms sent a shiver down your spine; nerve ends sizzling with desire.

"I-I've wanted this for so long, now, darling." Tom whispered; pressing his forehead against yours. "And now that I can finally have it - you... It's so surreal and- Oh fuck..." Tom's hands started to tremble; eyebrows slanting and mouth forming into a perfect 'o' as you lowered yourself on him. Only your lips messily entangling themselves with his seemed to bring him out of his haze.

"I love you, Tommy. I love you. I always have," you whimpered; body jolting with love and pleasure. His soft beard scratched the skin of your cheek, as he buried his head in the crook of your neck; lips marking you as his.

"I love you, too, darling. With all my heart. I'm yours." He lifted his head once more; glassy blue eyes gazing deeply into your soul. "Now let me love you. Let me make love to you." You smiled deliriously and raked your fingers through his long, blonde-brown curls. "I beg you to, Tommy."

And when he started to move, the world around you faded. All you could think and feel was Tom.

[bonefall]

I just read your response about how the Erin's didn't realise the colonialism themes of DOTC and now I'm wondering if it's because they're British - a big fucking colonialist country

I am also British and I have seen first hand how watered down the empire's negative consequences are in schools. I still remember being told, "the only ones that weren't having a great time were the slaves." when in reality no-one but the British was having a good time

It's unthinkable that the fact they are White British Authors of a Certain Age didn't contribute to it. Like... that's just how culture works, even if it somehow wasn't at all related to their formal education. It influences how you think.

(Also as an aside, even most of The British didn't like the whole empire thing. 3/4ths of Britain isn't England. 2024 is still young, come on guys, be hilarious)

I can't ENTIRELY pin this one on you guys though, the writers are English but their biggest audience is American. And the Americans also predictably failed to catch the themes. ALSO a big colonialist country.

(I happened to get a really good education though, especially for a public school. I don't know if My Fellow Americans even learned about the Whiskey Rebellion or the Banana Wars)

It's also hard to explain it, but the Erins also have a very British way of writing fat people. There's overlap between them, but Brit and American fatphobia has two 'trends.'

American fatphobia tends to frame weight as being funny, pathetic, and a sign of a lack of discipline. English fatphobia tends use it to make a villainous or annoying character appear even more vile, greedy, and unhygienic. American media has also had a stronger trend of body positivity lately, whereas I'm having a hard time even thinking of overweight English characters who are not mocked for their size.

These are just the two things I've noticed though. I'm sure there's more noteworthy trends about WC that's influenced by its authors coming from where they do.

[thechaoticcheese]

TW: Attempted angst, War, Blood

Ghoap Oneshot - If I Wanted Help, I Would've Asked

The sounds of gunshots had filled the air as Ghost was wrestling with an enemy threatening to carve up the skin on his face, as if he needed any more scars on his mug. He was in an active hotspot during this battle, unusual for someone who was a sniper, but yet he was trained for all aspects of combat and he did what needed to be done. He was grunting with the enemy soldier as the knife started to get dangerously close to his dust covered balaclava, fear being apparent in the enemy’s eyes. He was so afraid to die by the skull bearing man’s hand and adrenaline was coursing through his veins. Ghost couldn’t blame the bloke, but he knew he could be stronger, he was stronger.

Ghost had just started to force his muscles to go overtime as he struggled to get the blade away from his face before the enemy was shot in the side, the momentum from the blast made the male lurch to the side before falling down to the ground, lying dead as Ghost pushed him off with a huff. The Brit stood up and looked over to see a furious, but worried Soap. “Ghost! Ye alrigh’?” He asked, concern filled his voice. “Yeah.” Ghost brushed him off, grabbing the enemies weapon that was slung against his back, Ghost having lost his somewhere on the battlefield. It happens, the army will just supply more. “Don’ do tha’ Ghost.” Soap’s angered tone cut through the sounds of war around them. “Ye should’a radioed that ye needed help.”

Ghost stopped in his tracks as chaos continued to rain on the dust battlefield. Explosions were heard and felt from his right side as the ground quaked. How the duo could have this conversation and not be hit was beyond him. “If I wanted help, I would’ve asked.” Ghost responded coldly before starting to return to battle. “Don’ pull tha’ bullshite!” Soap protested before gasping, falling to the ground and holding his side. The sound made Ghost turn around and quickly aim the commandeered firearm at the enemy who had just shot Soap. His Johnny. “We were talkin’!” Ghost growled as he shot at the soldier, dropping the person with a quick few bullets before running then skidding over to Soap, seeing the Scot hold his side tightly, blood starting to stick to his hand. “Jesus Christ.” Ghost mumbled as he quickly supported Soap and started to move him to a safe location, taking the gun he had in his non-dominate hand. “An’ ‘ere I thou’ ye were given’ up on me.” Soap joked as he leaned onto Ghost for support while keeping his hand firm on the bullet wound. “I like you alive, Johnny.” Ghost grunted before setting Soap behind a rock, ripping off part of a shirt from a corpse nearby before tightly wrapping it around the Scot as he hissed in pain.

“Then ask for bloody help yea?” Soap quipped with a cocky smile as he looked at Ghost who only offered a sparing glare before he radioed for a medic to come get Soap. “Next time.” Ghost replied gruffly. He gave Soap a gentle pat on the shoulder, pausing before gently kissing his forehead then disappearing back into the chaos.

Soap watched him leave and sighed before saying over the radio, “Love ye too ye bastard.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Another request from @bone-trash and based on this post(specifically the prompt: If I wanted help, I would've asked)! If you'd like to request something from that list, or anything at all, feel free to send it to my mail(ask)box! I'll get to it as soon as I can!

I also don't really know how to properly write angst/what is considered angst so I hope this fits the bill lol. Also Ik this is just a drabble, but I just had a small scene in mind cause angst between the boys always need to be followed up by fluff but I can't do that here. So a short Ilu it is.

[aubris-fox]

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ❤︎ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

꩜.ᐟAtlas' Headcanonsᯓᡣ𐭩

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

͝ ⏝𝅄︶ ͝ ⏝ ⊹ ⏝ ͝ ︶𝅄⏝ ͝

here's a bunch of random Horangi (Call Of Duty) headcanons because i keep coming up with them and need a place to throw them lol

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 🐯 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

when he's incredibly focused, he sticks his tongue out a little. it's usually hidden by his mask, though, so most don't know he does it.

^ he almost constantly has a little wet spot on his mask from doing that. it's not obvious or anything, he's not drooling all over it, but it's there lmao (this is a shared headcanon, and my pal kade came up with it)

definitely a cat person

Horangi had a very solitary nature until he joined the army. he still kind of does, but by the time he joined KorTac he'd been conditioned to be around others and it doesn't bother him as much

smokes, but pretty casually. heavy smoking is an addiction he left behind with gambling.

he likes the snow!! (though over the years, he finds himself preferring to just look at it. the cold irritates his scars)

he likes thrillers, and cooking shows.

^ watches Nailed It! at like four in the morning to laugh at them (this is projection)

mostly lets out amused huffs/snorts instead of 'properly' laughing. (basically a human version of tiger chuffing!! chuffing has been described as sounding like car exhaust, snorts, and/or huffs, and it's vaguely akin to purring. in general, it's the sound of a very happy kitty, but it's also used for greetings and courtship. just a funfact :3)

^ on the topic of noises; grunting in response to things, those quiet grumbles that almost sound like growls when he's frustrated, etc.. gotta have tiger-like vocalizations for mr. tiger man

he can see exceptionally well in the dark, and he has an almost scarily good sense of smell.

sharp teeth, big yawns, and even bigger smiles.

his hair's almost always silky smooth (maybe just slighty coarse, at some points, but never too dry or brittle). not even he understands how he manages it.

Horangi has hypogeusia. it's a taste disorder that causes reduced taste and can make it hard to differentiate certain flavors. it isn't severe in his case, and it mostly affects his ability to taste sweetness.

^ he prefers foods that have much stronger tastes, because its easier to, well, taste them. while his disorder mainly hinders tasting sweet things, foods in general can taste a bit bland to him if they arent powerful enough.

smells 'warm'. citrus, cedar, spices, ginger, etc. (burberry brit for men is the cologne im thinking of for him). also always smells like cigarette smoke. definitely not overwhelmingly though; it's there, but mostly covered by the aforementioned scents.

he's actually pretty good at baking, which is ironic because most of the time he can barely taste what he's making.

massive spicy food enjoyer. feast mode ACTIVATED, he will tear that shit up. better pray you get some before him because there will be none left after he's done.

his favorite color is pink!

it's scary how quiet he can be. he's stealthy, a complete master of the hunt. you'll turn around and he'll Literally Just Be There like "hey man."

cannot find a pair of matching socks literally ever. the divorce rate between them is astonishing.

he reads/has read the classics, for sure. from historical texts, to renowned novels. i think he especially enjoys the iliad. also massive stephen king fan probably.

he'd take a strongly steeped cup of tea over coffee any day (though frequently he caves and drinks the latter for caffeine purposes)

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶

that's pretty much all i have rn, maybe i will add more in the future!! tysm for reading !! ♡ (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ❤︎ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

@idiotrxccoon

unfortunately tumblr site killed the formatting sighh. looks cute on the mobile app though so i will leave it i guess

[camisoledadparis]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … January 20

c.275 AD. – St. Sebastian was born in the 3rd century AD. We know the date, but not the year. He is the patron saint of archers because he was bound to a stake and shot with arrows. He is also the patron saint of soldiers. As a beautiful young man he was the favorite of the emperor Diocletian who turned against him for embracing Christianity.

Some tales speculate that the Emperor Diocletian made romantic advances upon Sebastian and was enraged when Sebastian rejected him on Christian grounds. Other stories actually refer to Sebastian as the emperor's lover. Whether or not such accounts are legitimate, the image of St. Sebastian has been linked to homoeroticism.

According to the Church's official Acta Sanctorum, Sebastian, serving under the emperors Diocletian and Maximian, came to the rescue of Christian soldiers, Marcellinus and Mark, and thereby confessed his own Christianity. Diocletian insisted that Sebastian be shot to death by his fellow archers; these orders were followed, and Sebastian was left for dead.

These details—based on accounts written centuries after Sebastian's death and therefore largely apocryphal—may have helped form Sebastian's subsequent reputation as a homosexual martyr since his story constitutes a kind of "coming out" tale followed by his survival of an execution that may be read symbolically as a penetration.

In the Renaissance, Sebastian emerged as an extraordinarily popular subject for painters, perhaps rivaled only by Jesus and Mary; he was especially prized by artists who saw in the young saint a figure of Hellenic loveliness. Numerous painters—Tintoretto, Mantegna, Titian, Guido Reni, Giorgione, Perugino, Botticelli, Bazzi ("Il Sodoma")—recast Sebastian as a martyr beatifically receptive to his arrow-ridden fate.

It was primarily the Renaissance depiction of Sebastian that served a later, explicitly homosexual cult of St. Sebastian that took hold with remarkable force beginning in the nineteenth century, with Sebastian as an modern emblem of both a homoerotically charged object of desire and a source of solace for the rejected homosexual.

1900 – British actor Colin Clive (d.1937) is born in Saint-Malo, France to an English colonel, Colin Philip Greig, and his wife, Caroline Margaret Lugard Clive. He attended Stonyhurst College and subsequently Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, where an injured knee disqualified him from military service and contributed to his becoming a stage actor. Clive studied acting, and replaced Laurence Olivier in the stage play, Journey’s End, in 1927.

James Whale was the director of Journey's End. The two struck up an intimate relationship, and Clive played the lead in Journey’s End when it moved to the Savoy Theater in London in 1928. Clive was embraced by Whale’s theatrical friends including actress Elsa Lanchester. He followed Whale to New York City and Whale facilitated the casting of Clive in the movie version of the play.

Journey’s End was Clive’s first of 18 feature films. Clive appeared on Broadway in Overture. When the play closed, he went to London and starred with Elsa Lanchester in The Stronger Sex.

Clive is perhaps best known for playing the role of Dr. Henry Frankenstein in the James Whale-directed Frankenstein (1931) and in the Bride of Frankenstein (1935) with his friend Elsa Lanchester.

Though Clive was gay, he married actress Jeanne de Casalis in 1929, but the marriage was one of convenience, and they separated a short time later.

Clive was a member of the Brit ex-patriot actors in Hollywood including Lanchester, Karloff and Charles Laughton, and remained close with Whale.

The actor struggled with his sexual identity and suffered alcoholism and depression from an early age. His drinking became more and more problematic professionally. He often came to work drunk and passed out on the set. He was even fired from a starring role in a film when he suffered a breakdown.

Clive’s final film was in 1937, The Woman I Love. Colin Clive died on June 25, 1937, of tuberculosis complicated by chronic alcoholism. He was 37 years old. Actress Mae Clarke, one of his leading ladies, said, "Colin was the handsomest man I ever saw and also the saddest."

1945 – Gianni Amelio is an Italian film director.

Amelio was born in San Pietro di Magisano, province of Catanzaro, Calabria. His father moved to Argentina soon after his birth. He spent his youth and adolescence with his mother and his grandmother. The absence of a paternal figures will be a constant in Amelio's future works.

During his university studies of philosophy in Messina, Amelio got interested in cinema, writing as film critic for a local magazine. In 1965 he moved to Rome, where he worked as operator and assistant director for figures such as Liliana Cavani and Vittorio De Seta. He also worked for television, directing documentaries and advertisements.

Amelio's first important work is the TV film La città del sole, directed in 1973 for RAI TV and inspired to Tommaso Campanella's work. This was followed by Bertolucci secondo il cinema (1976) a documentary about shooting the movie 1900, and the thriller Effetti speciali. Two years later he directed the mystery La morte al lavoro, which won prizes at Locarno and Hyères festivals. The Little Archimedes (Il piccolo Archimede) of 1979 was also critically acclaimed.

In 1982 he debuted for cinema proper with Blow to the Heart (Colpire al cuore), about Italian terrorism, presented at the Venice Film Festival. In 1987 Amelio released I ragazzi di via Panisperna, about the lives of 1930 Italian physicists Enrico Fermi and Edoardo Amaldi, which won the award for best screenplay at the Bari Film Festival. 1989's Open Doors (Porte aperte), featuring Gian Maria Volonté, confirmed Amelio's status as one of Italy's best film directors and won a nomination as Best Foreign Film at 1991 Academy Awards. The film received also four Felix, two Silver Ribbon, four David di Donatello and three Golden Globes awards.

Also successful was The Stolen Children (Il ladro di bambini) in 1992, which won the Special Prize of Jury at the 1992 Cannes Film Festival plus two Silver Ribbon and 5 David di Donatello. In 1994 Lamerica, about Albanian immigration in Italy, repeated the fate and the success, with 2 Silver Ribbons and 3 Davids. Four years later, The Way We Laughed (Così ridevano) won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. Amelio gained another Silver Ribbon as best director for The Keys to the House (Le chiavi di casa), inspired to a novel by Giuseppe Pontiggia, of 2004.

Amelio was a member of jury at the Cannes Film Festival in 1995. In 2006 he released his eighth feature film, The Missing Star (La stella che non c'è), featuring Sergio Castellitto. From 2009 to 2012 he was director of Torino Film Festival, Turin.

Amelio came out as gay late in life, shortly before the release of his 2014 documentary Happy to be Different.

1974 – Michael Stabile is an American journalist and documentary filmmaker best known for his work in and about the pornography industry. His work has appeared in Playboy, The Daily Beast, Buzzfeed and Salon.com. In 2004, he and Jack Shamama co-created the gay pornographic soap opera Wet Palms for which they won a GayVN Award for Best Screenplay. He has also written several other GayVN-nominated movies including Spokes III, Cross Country, and Master of the House. Two of the films were included in "Top 10 Gay Porn Movies of the Decade" by Gawker Media's Fleshbot with credit given to the writing team of Stabile and Shamama.Since 2003, Stabile has edited Gay Porn Blog and in 2005 became producer of The Tim and Roma Show, a web-based talk show about the gay adult industry. In 2008, Stabile launched gay news site TheSword.com. He has been named "an arbiter of taste for gay porn" by the Village Voice.

Stabile has also been featured in the San Francisco Bay Guardian, the San Francisco Chronicle, Gay.com, Time Out, Cybersocket, and the Huffington Post.Stabile is working with Shamama and cinematographer Ben Leon on Seed Money, a documentary about Falcon Studios' founder and GLBT philanthropist Chuck Holmes, currently in production. Their documentary short, Smut Capital of America premiered at the 2011 Tribeca Film Festival on April 24, 2011. In late 2011, Stabile began working with Warhol Superstar Holly Woodlawn on a documentary about her life.

1976 – Mathieu Klein is a French politician serving as Mayor of Nancy since 2020. A member of the Socialist Party since 1992, he is also President of the Departmental Council of Meurthe-et-Moselle. After the 2020 French municipal elections, he became the first socialist Mayor of Nancy since the end of the second World War.

Mathieu Klein was born into a family of teachers in Phalsbourg, Moselle. Alongside his two brothers, he was brought up in Holving, before pursuing his secondary education at Sarreguemines. He moved to Nancy, France in 1993 to study history and sociology. He then continued his university studies in Paris.

Mathieu Klein has been a member of the Socialist Party since 1992 and his gave support in favour of a positive result in the French referendum on the Maastricht Treaty. He then became a student member of the National Union of Students of France in Nancy, then in Paris, becoming a member of its national bureau in charge of health matters.

In 1994 in Nancy he founded an LGBT association dedicated to the promotion of equality and fighting against homophobia.

In the 2020 French municipal elections in Nancy, Klein headed the Socialist Party, which took the first place in the first round on 15 March 2020, with 37.9% of the vote. Following this result, Klein merged with Europe Ecology – The Greens. In the second round, held on 28 June 2020, Klein prevailed with 54.5% of the vote. He was confirmed as Mayor on 15 July 2020 by 43 votes in the municipal council of Nancy, becoming the first left-wing person to exercise this mandate since the end of the second World War.

Mathieu Klein is homosexual and works in associations which are engaged in the fight against homophobia. He is married to a family doctor and the couple have three children.

1979 – Will Young is an English singer and actor. He catapulted to fame in 2002 after winning the inaugural UK Pop Idol contest. He has continued to work in music, and also as an actor.

Contrary to popular belief, Will did not come from behind to win the contest. After having beaten the widely-accepted frontrunner Gareth Gates in the final show, it emerged that he had in fact gained the most votes in six out of the nine weeks of the live show.

Young's first single was a double A-side featuring Evergreen and Anything Is Possible. In March 2002 this became the fastest-selling debut in UK chart history, selling 403,027 copies on its day of release (1,108,659 copies in its first week). It went on to sell over 1.7 million copies, and in the official list of the all-time best-selling singles in the UK issued later that year it was 11th. On 31 December 2009, Radio 1 confirmed that Anything Is Possible/Evergreen was the biggest selling single of the 2000s decade in the United Kingdom.

Young subsequently revealed that he was gay, in order to pre-empt a tabloid newspaper that was preparing to run a story 'outing' him. He also stated that he had never hidden, and was comfortable with, his sexuality.

Later in the year, Young met comedian David Walliams and the pair became good friends, with Young appearing at the Little Britain live stage show in Manchester, and later recording a podcast with Walliams, in which they chatted about various aspects of Young's career.

Will added acting to his repertoire when he accepted a role in the BBC film Mrs Henderson Presents, starring Judi Dench and Bob Hoskins. The film was released in the UK in November 2005 to excellent reviews — not least for Young's performance as both actor and singer in the film.

1980 – Yusaf Mack is an American professional boxer. He has held regional titles from the USBA (Now the IBF), NABA, UBA, and NABF. Mack has fought several former world champions, including Alejandro Berrio, Glen Johnson and Carl Froch.

Mack made his professional boxing debut at middleweight on November 17, 2000 in Biloxi, Mississippi. In his first 24 fights, Mack compiled a record of 22-0 with two draws. Throughout his early fights Mack moved between the middleweight, super middleweight, and light heavyweight divisions.

Mack is a father of ten children and was engaged to a woman. In 2015, he appeared in a Dawgpoundusa.com production titled Holiday Hump'n along with gay pornographic actors Bamm Bamm and Young Buck under the name Philly. He initially claimed he had been drugged by the film's producers and had no recollection of making the film, but later told WTXF-TV that he was gay and had lied to cover that up.

Yusaf later had a "coming out party" at Rage nightclub in Weho, a longtime landmark on the L.A. gay scene.

2012 – Three Muslim men from Derby, UK, were convicted of inciting hatred on the grounds of sexual orientation after they distributed leaflets calling for gay people to be killed.

In a landmark case, a jury at Derby Crown Court ruled the three had breached hate crime legislation by handing out the leaflets outside the Jama mosque, in Rosehill Street, Derby, in July 2010 in advance of a gay pride parade, as well as putting them through nearby letterboxes.One of the leaflets, entitled "The Death Penalty?," depicted a mannequin hanging by the neck from a noose. "The death sentence is the only way this immoral crime can be erased from corrupting society and act as a deterrent for any other ill person who is remotely inclined in this bent way," the leaflet read, as it discussed various methods of carrying out the death penalty for homosexuals.

Another depicted homosexuals burning in a lake in hell. A third showed the word gay laid out as an acronym to read "God Abhors You."

Today's Gay Wisdom

For The Straight Folks Who Don't Mind Gays But Wish They Weren't So BLATANT

by Pat Parker

You know, some people got a lot of nerve.Sometimes I don't believe the things I see and hear. Have you met the woman who's shocked by two women kissing and in the same breath, tells you she is pregnant? BUT gays, shouldn't be so blatant. Or this straight couple sits next to you in a movie and you can't hear the dialogue because of the sound effects. BUT gays shouldn't be so blatant. And the woman in your office spends an entire lunch hour talking about her new bikini drawers and how much her husband likes them. BUT gays shouldn't be so blatant. Or the "hip" chick in your class rattling like a mile a minute while you're trying to get stoned in the john, about the camping trip she took with her musician boyfriend. BUT gays shouldn't be so blatant. You go in a public bathroom and all over the walls there's John loves Mary, Janice digs Richard, Pepe loves Delores, etc., etc. BUT gays shouldn't be so blatant. Or your go to an amusement park and there's a tunnel of love and pictures of straights painted on the front and grinning couples are coming in and out. BUT gays shouldn't be so blatant. Fact is, blatant heterosexuals are all over the place. Supermarkets, movies, on your job, in church, in books, on television every day day and night, every place - even in gay bars and they want gay men and woman to go and hide in the closet. So to you straight folks I say, "Sure, I'll go if you go too" BUT I'm polite, so, after you.

[lifeofpriya]

Hello love!

Because I am insane for this man now may I please request the “Kissing you, and then putting their hands around your neck to stay like that for the next seconds, minutes as you two get lost in each other.” prompt for our cutie Brit? 🩷 - @pyotrkochetkov

hi!!! i had a real blast writing this one and ughh, i just feel like Jack would be a wonderful wedding date 😩

A Little Spontaneous Romance

wc: 2.1k

"Jack, we need to get going, or otherwise, we'll be late for Lizzie's wedding," you reminded your boyfriend, peeking into the bathroom as he perfected his tie in the mirror. The room smelled faintly of his aftershave, something woody and expensive that always made you feel like you were standing in a forest glade. The sink was scattered with his toiletries, and a puddle of water had formed around the base of the tap. You stepped closer, taking in the sight of his broad shoulders, his muscles flexing as he tugged at the knot.

Jack turned to you with a smile that could melt glaciers, his eyes a mesmerizing shade of hazel that reminded you of the leaves that rustled outside your childhood home in the autumn. His hair was slightly damp, the ends curling just enough to give him that 'I woke up like this' look that you knew took him at least fifteen minutes to achieve. "Alright, love," he said, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Let's not keep the happy couple waiting."

As you both walked out of the hotel room, the sun was just beginning to kiss the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city. The cobblestone streets of the old town were already bustling with life, the sound of laughter and distant chatter mixing with the faint notes of a street musician playing a saxophone. You felt Jack's hand in yours, his grip firm but comforting as you navigated the throngs of people making their way to the wedding venue. The anticipation of the day ahead filled you with excitement and a touch of nerves - Lizzie had been your best friend since childhood, and you were thrilled to be a part of her special day.

Jack looked over at you, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards into a smirk. "You know, I've never seen you so dressed up," he said, his eyes scanning your attire with appreciation. A gentle breeze ruffled your hair, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as Jack leaned in closer. "You look absolutely stunning," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

You blushed, looking down at the dress you'd chosen. It was a simple yet elegant number, the fabric shimmering slightly in the early morning light. You'd spent hours searching for the perfect shoes, finally settling on a pair of shoes that added a touch of sophistication to your outfit. "Thank you," you murmured, glancing up to find him studying you intently.

As you approached the grand archway that led to the wedding venue, the scent of fresh flowers grew stronger. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of roses and peonies, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of serenity wash over you. The venue was a picturesque rooftop garden, with greenery cascading down the walls and a stunning view of the city beyond. The chairs were arranged in neat rows, draped with ivory fabric that billowed gently in the breeze.

Jack squeezed your hand, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "This is going to be an amazing day," he said, his voice full of genuine warmth. You nodded in agreement, feeling a swell of happiness for Lizzie and her soon-to-be husband, Darcy. The two of them had been through so much together, and you were thrilled that they had found their way to this moment.

As you entered the venue, you couldn't help but notice the way the light danced across the surface of the crystal chandeliers hanging from the canopy above. They cast a soft, romantic glow over the space, making everything seem ethereal and magical. The string quartet played a soft melody that resonated with the air around you, setting the tone for the celebration to come.

Jack looked around, his eyes wide with wonder. "This place is unreal," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. You nodded, squeezing his hand tighter. It was unlike any wedding venue you had ever seen, a perfect blend of nature and opulence that reflected Lizzie's unique style.

As you made your way to your seats, you felt a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. You had been helping Lizzie plan this day for months, and now it was finally here. You had never seen Jack so dressed up either, in a tailored suit that hugged his athletic frame, making him look every inch the dashing tennis star he was. His tie was a deep shade of blue that matched the color of the sky above, and his shoes were so polished you could see your reflection in them.

The music grew louder as the bridesmaids began their procession, their dresses fluttering in the breeze like petals on a summer's day. Lizzie looked stunning in a gown that made her look like a modern-day princess, her eyes sparkling with joy as she made her way towards Darcy, who was standing at the altar, looking as though he couldn't believe his luck. You watched as they exchanged vows, their love for each other palpable in the air, making it thick and warm around you.

As the ceremony concluded and the newlyweds shared their first kiss, the crowd erupted into applause. You turned to Jack, whose gaze was fixed on the couple, a soft smile playing on his lips. He leaned in, his eyes finding yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away.

The reception was a whirlwind of laughter and dancing, the air thick with the scent of champagne and the sound of clinking glasses. You and Jack mingled with the guests, chatting and sipping on drinks, but your thoughts kept drifting back to how unbelievably handsome your boyfriend looked in his suit. His strong arms were wrapped around you as you swayed to the rhythm of a slow song, the fabric of his jacket feeling smooth against your bare shoulders.

The sun had set, and the twinkling lights strung up around the venue created a romantic atmosphere that seemed to beckon you closer to him. His hazel eyes searched yours, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. You couldn't make out the words over the music, but the sentiment was clear: he was as smitten with you as you were with him.

As the night progressed, Jack grew more and more relaxed, his movements fluid and graceful as he danced. You watched him, unable to take your eyes off of him, feeling a mix of pride and desire. He was truly in his element, the charming, charismatic man that had stolen your heart on the tennis courts and never let it go.

But then, something changed. The music grew softer, the lights dimmer, and the air between you two seemed to crackle with an intensity that was almost tangible. You found yourselves standing in a quiet corner of the rooftop garden, the sounds of the party muffled by the dense foliage that surrounded you.

Jack looked at you, his gaze unwavering, and before he could say a word, you leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was tender, yet filled with a passion that had been simmering just beneath the surface of your relationship. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer, as if he was afraid that if he let go, you would vanish like a mirage in the desert heat. The world around you ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours, the beat of his heart echoing in your chest.

You moved your hands up to Jack's neck, feeling the steady throb of his pulse beneath your fingertips. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if you were trying to convey every unspoken word, every unvoiced emotion, through the simple act of pressing your mouth to his. His hands slipped from your waist to cup your cheeks, his thumbs gently caressing the soft skin beneath your eyes. The warmth of his palms sent a shiver down your spine, and you realized that you had never felt more alive than you did in this moment.

As the kiss lingered, you felt the tension in your body melt away, leaving only the sensation of Jack's firm grip and the heat of his touch. Time seemed to stand still, the only indication of its passing the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. You were lost in the moment, lost in the feel of him, lost in the realization of just how much he meant to you.

When you finally pulled away, you were both panting slightly, your cheeks flushed and eyes wide with surprise and desire. "I've wanted to do that all night," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. Jack's eyes searched yours, a mix of confusion and something else - something deeper, something that made your stomach flip.

He leaned in again, this time with a more urgent need. His kiss was fiercer, more demanding, as if he were trying to claim you in that very instant. Your hands tightened around his neck, your nails digging slightly into his skin. The world around you faded away once more, replaced by the sound of your beating hearts and the soft caress of the evening air.

Jack's hands moved to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him, your bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their place. The music swelled around you, a cacophony of sound that seemed to be playing just for the two of you.

You could feel his heart racing, echoing the tempo of the music, as your chests rose and fell in sync. The world outside the confines of your embrace was a blur of colors and shapes, a distant reality that couldn't compare to the intimacy you shared.

You couldn't help but wonder if anyone had noticed the two of you in the secluded corner, but the truth was, you didn't care. The connection between you was magnetic, drawing you closer with each passing second. Your breaths melded into one as the kiss grew more intense, your bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music that played softly in the background.

Reluctantly pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath, you looked into Jack's eyes, which had darkened with passion. The music swirled around you, a symphony of love and longing that seemed to be playing just for the two of you. His thumb traced the curve of your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, feeling the roughness of his skin against yours.

"That was…wow," Jack murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. He was usually well-spoken and eloquent with his words, but in this moment, he seemed to have been rendered speechless by the intensity of your kiss. The look in his eyes was one of pure amazement, as if he couldn't believe what had just happened between the two of you.

"You weren't expecting that, were you, Draper?" You teased, a smug smile playing on your lips.

Jack chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest, his hands still lingering around your neck. "No, I wasn't," he admitted, his voice low and husky. "But I'm not complaining."

The sound of distant laughter and clinking glasses brought you back to reality. You were at Lizzie's wedding, in the middle of a crowded reception, and you had just shared a kiss that could have set the whole venue on fire. You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks, but instead of pulling away, Jack leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"What? Can't I surprise my boyfriend with a little spontaneous romance?" You quipped, your voice filled with mirth.

Jack's grin grew wider, his eyes never leaving yours. "You always know how to catch me off guard," he said, his voice filled with affection. "But I like it."

You both took a moment to breathe in the cool evening air, your hearts slowly returning to their normal rhythm. The scent of the garden's blooming flowers wafted around you, mixing with the faint scent of Jack's cologne. It was a heady combination that made you feel light-headed and intoxicated.

"We should probably get back to the party," you murmured, not wanting to break the spell that had been cast over you.

Jack nodded, but his arms didn't move from around you. "In a minute," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. He kissed you again, more gently this time, as if he was savoring the taste of you. The world around you faded away once more, leaving only the sound of your hearts beating together.

[highinmiamiii]

NO FEELINGS - ch. 02

🇬🇧 a prelude 🇬🇧

A/N: heeey yall, it’s been a second i’ve been feeling some of that good ol’ block lately. i wanted to make this second chapter a lot more detailed and maybe get a little nasty with it already but i fear my brain just wouldn’t allow me…so i hope you enjoy this flashback/prelude chapter with that tattoo scene in a little more detail that i had sitting in my drafts for what it is. leave a comment if you wanna be apart of my permanent taglist and any feedback or suggestions are welcome. thank you all so much for following and reading i love you so much! enjoy this while i sort out this blockage and come back stronger, better and hornier 😈 also i hope the switching back and forth isn’t confusing i attempted to differentiate for ya’ll

Her POV: back of steakhouse (present)

She leaned against the grimy counter, staring at the faded ink on her arm as her mind drifted. It hadn’t taken much—just one look at him sitting out there. The way his jaw clenched, cigarette hanging from his lips, the same damn way it used to back in London. She hadn’t expected to ever have to see him again, and now, as the memories came flooding back, it felt like a sucker punch to the gut.

London in the 90s. A wild, rebellious time. The city had swallowed her whole, but she’d been too busy chasing the dream to care. The music. The crowds. The life. And then there was him—Billy. She wasn’t sure what she saw in him at first. Maybe it was the same reckless abandon she had, or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t give a damn about anything, including her.

Butcher’s POV (Present)

He lit another cigarette, taking a long drag, eyes narrowing as the smoke curled up toward the dim lights. Christ, she’d aged, just like him, but the fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed much. Still that spark, that defiance. But behind it, he saw something else. Pain. Maybe even a little bitterness. The last thing he had in mind when coming here was to dredge up all these old memories. If he’d known *she*, of all people would be the one serving him piss poor American whiskey in a tiny little white sheer tank top, he wouldn’t have dared to show up here…or would he?

But London… yeah, he remembered. He could still see her, standing there in that grimy club, screaming lyrics at the top of her lungs. The way her fishnets dug into the meat of her thighs, her big messy carefree hair to match her attitude. That night had been pure chaos—loud, electric, full of bad decisions. She’d been wearing some old Nirvana shirt, looking every bit the rebel without a cause. That’s what caught his eye. A Yank, lost in a sea of Brits, and still holding her own.

Her POV: Camden, London (Flashback)

The club was packed, bodies pressed together in the heat of the moment. The shitty Sex Pistols cover band’s rendition blared through the speakers, the crowd was a frenzy, and she loved every second of it. She’d never felt more alive, more free. And then, through the haze of booze and music, there he was. A cocky grin, leather jacket slung over one shoulder, eyes dark and sharp. He looked like trouble, and that’s exactly what she was after.

They’d met by accident—literally, she’d spilled her drink on him. He’d smirked, tossed a sarcastic remark, and she fired one right back. That was how it started. The banter, the late-night pub crawls, the music they bonded over. Sonic Youth. The Clash. Pearl Jam. They’d spent hours talking about bands, trading tapes, dissecting lyrics. He was tough, but he got it. He understood the frustration, the rebellion that was running through her veins. And she loved him for it.

Butcher’s POV: (Flashback)

She’d been a live wire from the moment they met. Mouthy, sharp, full of opinions. But bloody hell, she knew her music, and she didn’t take shit from anyone, of course it didn’t hurt that she was the sexiest damn woman he’d ever seen in his life. They’d spent that whole night drinking and talking, getting lost in the chaos of London’s underground punk scene. She wasn’t English, not by a long shot, but there was something about her—something that felt familiar.

Maybe that’s why he stuck around. Maybe that’s why they became inseparable after that night. Camden was their playground, the pubs their refuge. They were both running from something—her, from a life that didn’t suit her, him from his demons, the ones that always seemed to creep in when the booze ran dry.

Her POV: Streets of London (Flashback)

They’d wander the streets of London at 3 a.m., talking about everything and nothing. She’d ramble about her dreams, how she’d saved up for years to get to London, only to find out that the dream wasn’t as glamorous as it seemed. He’d listen, nod, offer some witty remark, and she’d laugh, feeling lighter for a moment.

Then there was that night—the tattoo. They’d been drunk, of course, stumbling out of a pub when he saw the tattoo parlor.

“Go on, love, get somethin’ that sticks. Like us,” he’d slurred, smirking like the devil himself.

She rolled her eyes, but she was too far gone to resist. “You’re full of shit, Butcher.”

“Am I, now? Bollocks to it. Get the ink, love.”

And so she did. Never Mind the Bollocks. The same words that were now permanently etched on her skin, a reminder of those wild nights, of him.

Butcher’s POV: Tattoo Parlor, London (Flashback)

He couldn’t forget that night. Hell, he couldn’t forget any of it. She’d been so fiery, so full of life. He’d loved that about her, even if he didn’t say it. They’d been reckless, sure, but wasn’t that the whole point? To live fast, to not give a fuck?

But then Lenny died. And the whole world went to shit.

He’d shut down, shut her out. There were no more late-night pub crawls, no more snarky conversations over cheap pints, no more music. Everything that once felt like an escape, even her, turned into a reminder of what he’d lost. And what was worse, he couldn’t pull her into the darkness that now consumed him. She was too bright, too full of life—life that he no longer wanted a part of.

He’d ghosted her, plain and simple. He’d watched her from a distance, knowing she’d be heartbroken, but he couldn’t give her any more of himself. There wasn’t anything left to give. And London, once the vibrant backdrop to their wild love, became a suffocating city, drowning him in grief.

Her POV: Pub in London (Flashback)

She sat alone at their favorite pub. The one they used to haunt after every show, after every wild adventure through London’s underground. She kept checking her phone, waiting for a message that never came. The hours passed, the pint in front of her went warm, and still—nothing.

He was gone.

She didn’t want to believe it at first. But night after night, the calls went unanswered, and slowly, it started to sink in. He wasn’t coming back. Not for her, not for the life they’d carved out together. London, once her grand adventure, started to feel like a prison without him. The streets that used to be filled with music and laughter now echoed with silence. And every time she looked down at her arm, at the ink that now felt like a cruel joke, her heart twisted in pain.

Butcher’s POV: Steakhouse Booth (Present)

He snuffed out the cigarette, a bitter taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the smoke. Sitting here now, seeing her again after all these years, the memories were crawling back. The nights they spent in each other’s arms, the reckless abandon, the laughter… and then, the way he left her. Cold. Brutal.

He had his reasons, sure, but none of them would make a difference now. She hated him, that much was clear. And maybe she had every right to. He’d left her to fend for herself, knowing she’d have no way of surviving in London without him. But at the time, it felt like the only way to save her from the wreckage of his life.

Her POV: Backroom of the Steakhouse (Present)

She could hear the chatter of customers, the clatter of plates in the kitchen, but it all faded into the background. All she could think about was the way her life had fallen apart after he left. She’d had to scrape by, working whatever jobs she could get, barely keeping her head above water before finally fleeing back to the States.

And now, here he was. As if none of it had happened. As if he hadn’t left her stranded in a foreign country with nothing but a damn tattoo and a broken heart. She could feel her pulse quicken, her chest tightening with anger, with hurt. She wanted to storm out there, demand an explanation, shout at him for all the years she lost trying to pick up the pieces.

But instead, she stayed put. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d wrecked her. Not after all this time.

Butcher’s POV: Steakhouse Booth (Present)

He knew she was out back, probably stewing in her thoughts, just like he was. A part of him wanted to go to her, to explain, maybe even apologize for how things ended. But the other part—the part that still felt the weight of Lenny’s death, of everything he’d lost—kept him glued to the booth.

What was the point in dredging it all up? She’d moved on. She had to have. Just like he had. But then again, why did it feel like seeing her was pulling him back into that old life, back into those nights where it was just them against the world?

He reached for his glass, took another slow sip, eyes fixed on the dim light of the restaurant. Whatever they had back then, it was long gone. But seeing her now, it felt like a piece of him still lived in those London nights, still ached for the chaos and the connection they shared.

Her POV: Backroom of the Steakhouse (Present)

She pushed away from the counter, straightened her apron, and steeled herself. He could sit there and sulk all he wanted, but she wasn’t about to fall back into the past. Not with him. Not after everything. The memories still hurt, sure. But she wasn’t that same girl anymore, and she’d be damned if she let him drag her back to that place.

As she headed back out into the dining area, she caught sight of him again, sitting there like a ghost from her past. It was strange, how someone could look so different and yet so much the same. His face was more lined, his hair grayer, but that smirk, that swagger—it was all still there.

She had half a mind to walk right past him, pretend like he didn’t exist. But something inside her—maybe the part that still hurt, still remembered what they had—wouldn’t let her.

Butcher’s POV: Steakhouse Booth (Present)

And there she was, moving through the restaurant, that same defiance in her step. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret—just a small one, mind—but it was enough to remind him that they hadn’t been all bad together. They’d been wild, reckless, and young, but they’d had something real in the middle of all the madness.

As she came closer, his gaze locked onto hers. It was a silent challenge, like it always was between them. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him first, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to back down, either.

But the years between them? The ones filled with silence, with her hurt and his guilt—they hung in the air like smoke from a freshly lit cigarette.

And in that moment, Butcher couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, some things weren’t meant to be left in the past.

————————————————————————

current tags: @butchersdarkbird @scrmqwn

[boozenboze]

Tf 141 x Dancer!Male reader

@bunky101

Years had passed since M/n’s last recital.He could remeber how nervous he’d be before having to go on stage with his group.Despite the anxiety of performing in front of others he always nailed it,but after his coach left he decided to do something way out of his profession.

Danseur.....The perfect code name to represent what he used to enjoy.Why would he need a code name...well he needed one because of the new and more risky jobbed he was hired for.The h/c haired male had joined the military.You may be wondering why get a job that may cost your life?Well the answer is simple.There were and are many chances you could injure or be put 6ft under from doing ballet.You could’ve been told to break a leg, that has happened to most, some have even broken their necks because of them not landing properly.Knowing these things gave M/n an unnatural thrill.Knowing that he could get killed from something he loved doing gave him chills.Although he wouldn’t get that chill anymore......well....that was until he had to preform on the field.

It’s been a while since Danseur joined the military.His skills had been known to almost everyone and eyes were always on him.When he was on leave he would be doing his normal stretches in his pointe shoes, before doing a short routine that he remembered doing a while back.After that he’d go on with his day like any normal person.Though something had changed one of those days, a Task Force had heard about him and wanted him to join.He hadn’t known who they were but ultimately joined after doing a bit of digging, on who they were.

M/n had been part of Task Force 141 for a while now.He had been transferred to a new base and to make it feel a little bit more like home he had another studio made at the new base.Besides it was the least they could do, his skills were unseen by anyone else.

When you had first joined,Soap had his eyes on him from the beginning.He was always watching the male, attempting to catch any imperfection the male had.He found none.

Gaz was pretty happy knowing an ex ballet dancer was joining them.He has seen your agility and speed throughout training and on the field so he was impressed.He sometimes comes into the studio to see M/n doing a short version of a recital dance.He’d come in without announcing himself since he didn’t want to distract him.After a while of M/n being one of them he started to get obsessed with the sport and buried himself in tons of videos.

Besides Gaz being in the room, Ghost and Price would be watching from the door for the same reason as Gaz.When you danced you were in your own bubble, and nothing else was to surpass and take that focus away..This leads up to our current fiasco with Gaz and Soap.

“I don’t understand, how could ballet be a sport!”Soap argued with Gaz as the Brit answered

“Just look it up man, plus you can tell it’s a workout have you seen M/n’s calf’s.The mans ripped, if anything he has stronger legs.Soap hadn’t bought the males words as he slurped the smoothie that he had made beforehand.They were still going at it as they made their way to the studio.They noticed there were more people outside than usual, Ghost and Price being among them.A soft song was playing as they pushed their way through the crowd.

M/n had his eyes closed as he preformed an old group dance.As the music got a little more intense, his movements followed i pursuit.A beat drop made him do an ariel, and a low hum made him do a pirouette.Despite how intense and fast the song went, his movemnts never faltered and he remained graceful.As the music began to fade he went back to first position, before going to third position.He stayed like that for a moment before before lowering his arms, the music finally ended as well as the dance.

A whistle and claps were heard as M/n whipped his head around.He waved slightly, embarrassed at the fact he was being watched the whole time.Soap was just staring at the male in awe.He looked so elegant throughout the whole thing, and his muscles flexed under his leggings.The Scottish man was impressed but upset that he was wrong.All sports made you stronger in some way and it seems Ballet played its part with you.

Soap was wrong about Ballet not being a sport, he wouldn’t admit it either.That still doesn’t mean he’ll won’t watch you do your thing.Besides he already had a feelings for you in the beginning.

Side note-I accidentally deleted this :)