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badnewswhatsleft · 2 months ago

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rock sound #312 (nov 2024)

transcript below cut:

ROCK SOUND 25 ICON

FALL OUT BOY

A BAND THAT CAPTURED THE HEARTS, MINDS AND HEADPHONES OF A GENERATION OF KIDS WORLDWIDE, FALL OUT BOY UNDOUBTEDLY CHANGED THE LANDSCAPE OF THE ALTERNATIVE SCENE FOREVER, NEVER AFRAID TO EXPERIMENT, TAKE CHANCES AND MAKE BOLD CHOICES AS THEY PUSHED FORWARD. FOLLOWING A SUMMER SPENT EXPLORING THE 'DAYS OF FALL OUT PAST', PATRICK STUMP AND PETE WENTZ REFLECT ON THEIR PATH FROM POP PUNK, HARDCORE MISFITS TO ALL-CONQUERING, STADIUM-FILLING SONGWRITERS AS THEY ACCEPT THEIR ROCK SOUND 25 ICON AWARD.

WORDS JAMES WILSON-TAYLOR

PHOTOS ELLIOTT INGHAM

Let's begin with your most recent performance which was at When We Were Young festival in Las Vegas. It was such a special weekend, how are you reflecting on that moment?

PATRICK: It's wild, because the band, I think, is going on 23 years now, which really came as a surprise to me. I know it's this thing that old people always say, 'Man, it really goes by so fast', but then it happens to you and you're just taken aback. There were so many times throughout the weekend, every 10 minutes, where I'd turn around and see somebody and be like, 'Holy shit, I haven't seen you in 18 years', or something crazy like that. It was hard not to have a good time. When I was going up to perform with Motion City Soundtrack, which was an exciting thing in itself, I turn around and Bayside is there. And I haven't seen Bayside since we toured with them. God, I don't remember when that was, you know? So there was so much of that. You couldn't help but have a good time.

PETE: I mean, that's an insane festival, right? When they announce it, it looks fake every time. The lineup looks like some kid drew it on their folder at school. For our band, the thing that's a little weird, I think, is that by deciding to change between every album, and then we had the three year break which caused another big time jump, I think that it would be hard for us to focus on one album for that show. We're a band where our fans will debate the best record. So it was amazing that we were able to look backwards and try to build this show that would go through all the eras - nod to Taylor obviously on that one. But it's also an insane idea to take a show that should really be put on for one weekend in a theatre and then try to take it around the world at festivals. The whole time on stage for this particular show production, I'm just like 'Is this thing going to go on time?' Because if the whole thing is working totally flawlessly, it just barely works, you know what I mean? So I give a lot of credit to our crew for doing that, because it's not really a rock show. I know we play rock music and it's a rock festival, but the show itself is not really a rock production, and our crew does a very good job of bending that to fit within the medium.

That show allows you to nod to the past but without falling fully into nostalgia. You are still pushing the band into newer places within it.

PATRICK: That's always been a central thing. We're a weird band, because a lot of bands I know went through a period of rejecting their past, and frankly, I encounter this thing a lot, where people have expected that we stopped interacting with older material. But we always maintained a connection with a lot of the older music. We still close with 'Saturday'. So for us, it was never about letting go of the past. It was about bringing that along with you wherever you go. I'm still the same weird little guy that likes too much music to really pin down. It's just that I've carried that with me through all the different things that I've done and that the band has done. So for us, in terms of going forward and playing new stuff, that's always the thing that's important to me; that there should be new stuff to propel it. I never wanted to be an artist that just gave up on new music and went out and played the hits and collected the check and moved on. It's all got to be creative. That's why I do it. I want to make new music. That's always why I do it. So something like When We Were Young is kind of odd really. It's an odd fit for that, because it's nostalgic, which is not really my vibe all that much. But I found a lot of nostalgia in it. I found a lot of value in looking back and going 'Wow, this was really cool. It was amazing that we did this, that we all did this'. That scene of bands, we're all old now, but it has taken off into such a moment culturally that people can point to.

Let's jump all the way back to the first ever Fall Out Boy show. There is very little evidence of it available online but what are your memories of that performance?

PATRICK: So the very first Fall Out Boy show was at DePaul University in a fancy looking dining hall. I actually applied to DePaul, but I never went there because the band went on tour. I think there were only two or three other bands. One was a band called Stillwell, who were kind of a math rock emo band, and then this heavier, more metallic band. And then we were there, and we had a guitar player, John Flamandan, who I have not seen since that show. He was only in the band for a week or two, and we were still figuring ourselves out. We had three songs and I had never sung before in front of people. I did a talent show at school one time when I was a kid and theatre kind of stuff where you would sing, but it was more in that context. And I was also a kid too. This was the first time ever that I'm the singer for a band and I was fucking terrified. We had a drummer named Ben Rose, really great guy. I haven't seen Ben in a million years, either, but we were still figuring ourselves out. The other thing is that all of us, with me being the exception, were in other bands, and all of our other bands were better than Fall Out Boy was. We were very sloppy and didn't know what we were doing, and so I don't think any of us really took it seriously. But there was a thing that was really funny about it, where even though we kind of thought we sucked, and even though we weren't really focusing on it, we had a lot of fun with each other. We enjoyed trying this other thing, because we were hardcore kids, and we were not the pop punk kids and the pop punk bands in town, that was like 'the thing', and we were not really welcome in that. There was a fun in trying to figure out how to make melodic and pop music when we really didn't have any history with that. It was very obvious that we didn't know what we were doing at the beginning.

So when did it begin to feel like things were finally clicking? When did you find your roles and what you wanted the band to be?

PETE: In regards to the music, I liked Fall Out boy, way before I probably should have. I remember playing the early demos and it giving me a feeling that I hadn't felt with any of the other bands that I had been in. Now, looking back on it, I might have been a tad early on that. Then as far as the roles, I think that they've been carving themselves out over time. We've always allowed ourselves to gravitate to our strengths. Between me and Patrick, we'd probably make one great, atypical rock artist if we were one person. Because our strengths are things that the other doesn't love as much. But I think that what has happened more is it's less of a fight now and there's more trust. We have a trust with each other. There's things that Patrick will play for me or explain to me, and I don't even really need him to explain it, because I trust him. I may not totally understand it, but I trust him as an artist. On the other side of that, it's also very nice to have someone who can veto your idea, you know what I mean? It's nice to have those kind of checks and balances.

PATRICK: I had been in this band called Patterson, and all three of the other guys sang in kind of a gravelly, Hot Water Music vibe. I was not intending to be a singer, but I would try and sing backups and, it wasn't a criticism, but there was this vibe that, while I could do the gravelly thing, my voice was coming through and it didn't fit. It was too pretty and that became a thing I was kind of embarrassed of. So when Fall Out Boy started, I was actively trying to disguise that and mute it and hide behind affectation. Pete would really push me to stretch my vowels because that was in vogue in pop punk at the time. There were all these different ways that we were trying to suppress me, musically, because we were just trying to figure out how to do the things that the bands we liked did. But that wasn't really us, you know? It's really funny, because 'Take This To Your Grave' was recorded in three sections, about six months apart. Over the course of that time, I can hear us figuring it out. I think a really defining moment for me was 'Saturday', because I am not brave, I am not a bold person, and I do not put myself out there. When I was showing the band 'Saturday', we were jamming on the bit after the second chorus, and I was mumbling around, just mucking my way through it, and I did the falsetto thing. I didn't think anyone could hear me over us bashing around in Joe's parents house in this tiny little room. But Pete stopped, and he goes, 'Do that again'. I was so terrified of doing that in front of these guys, because you gotta remember, I was incredibly shy, but also a drummer. I'd never sung in front of anyone before, and now I'm singing in a band and I'm certainly not going to take chances. So I thought the falsetto thing was really not going to happen, but when I did it, there was this really funny thing. Somehow that song clicked, and it opened up this door for us where we do something different than everybody else. We were aiming to be a pop punk or hardcore band, but we found this thing that felt more natural to me.

As you embarked on Warped Tour, simultaneously you were finding this huge level of pop and mainstream success. How was it navigating and finding your way through those two very different spaces?

PATRICK: I used to work at a used record store and what shows up is all the records after their success. So I got really acquainted and really comfortable with and prepared for the idea of musical failure. I just wanted to do it because I enjoyed doing it. But in terms of planning one's life, I was certain that I would, at most, get to put out a record and then have to go to school when it didn't work out. My parents were very cautious. I said to them after 'Take This To Your Grave' came out that I'm gonna see where this goes, because I didn't expect to be on a label and get to tour. I'm gonna give it a semester, and then it will almost certainly fail, and then after it fails, I'll go to school. And then it didn't fail. Warped Tour was very crazy too, I was talking about this at When We Were Young with My Chem. Both of us were these little shit bands that no one cared about when we booked the tour. Then we got to the tour, and all these people were showing up for us, way more than we expected, way more than Warped Tour expected. So Warped Tour was putting both of us on these little side stages, and the stages would collapse because people were so excited. It was this moment that came out of nowhere all of a sudden. Then we go to Island Records, and I had another conversation with my parents, because every band that I had known up to that point, even the biggest bands in town, they would have their big indie record and then they would go to the major label and drop off the face of the planet forever. So I was certain that was going to happen. I told them again, I'm going to put out this record, and then I'll go to school when this fails.

PETE: I think that if you really wanted someone to feel like an alien, you would put them on TRL while they were on Warped Tour. You know what I mean? Because it is just bananas. On our bus, the air conditioning didn't work, so we were basically blowing out heat in the summer, but we were just so happy to be on a bus and so happy to be playing shows. You go from that to, two days later, stepping off the bus to brush your teeth and there's a line of people wanting to watch you brush your teeth. In some ways, it was super cool that it was happening with My Chemical Romance too because it didn't feel as random, right? It feels more meant to be. It feels like something is happening. To be on Warped Tour at that time - and if you weren't there, it would be probably hard to imagine, because it's like if Cirque Du Soleil had none of the acrobatics and ran on Monster energy drink. It was a traveling circus, but for it to reach critical mass while we were there, in some ways, was great, because you're not just sitting at home. In between touring, I would come home and I'd be sitting in my bedroom at my parents house. I would think about mortality and the edge of the whole thing and all these existential thoughts you feel when you're by yourself. But on Warped Tour, you go to the signing, you play laser tag, you go to the radio station. So in some ways, it's like you're in this little boot camp, and you don't really even think about anything too much. I guess it was a little bit of a blur.

Pete, when you introduced 'Bang The Doldrums' at When We Were Young, you encouraged the crowd to 'keep making weird shit'. That could almost be a mantra for the band as a whole. Your weirder moments are the ones that made you. Even a song like 'Dance Dance' has a rhythm section you never would have expected to hear on a rock track at that time.

PETE: You know, I just watched 'Joker 2' and I loved it. I do understand why people wouldn't because it subverts the whole thing. It subverts everything about the first one. That's something I've always really loved, when I watch artists who could keep making the same thing, and instead they make something that's challenging to them or challenging to their audience. Sometimes you miss, sometimes you do a big thing and you miss, and we've definitely done that. But I gotta say, all the things that I've really loved about art and music, and that has enriched my life, is when people take chances. You don't get the invention of anything new without that. To not make weird stuff would feel odd, and I personally would much rather lose and miss doing our own thing. To play it safe and cut yourself off around the edges and sand it down and then miss also, those are the worst misses, because you didn't even go big as yourself. This is where we connect with each other, we connect by our flaws and the little weird neuroses that we have. I rarely look at something and go 'Wow, that safe little idea really moved me'. I guess it happens, but I think about this with something like 'Joker 2' where this director was given the keys and you can just do anything. I think a lot of times somebody would just make an expected follow up but some people turn right when they're supposed to turn left. That's always been interesting on an artistic level, but at the same time, I think you're more likely to miss big when you do that.

PATRICK: Going into 'From Under The Cork Tree', I had this sense that this is my only shot. It has already outperformed what I expected. I don't want to be locked into doing the same thing forever, because I know me. I know I'm not Mr. Pop Punk, that's just one of many things I like. So I would be so bummed if for the rest of my life, I had to impersonate myself from when I was 17 and have to live in that forever. So I consciously wanted to put a lot of weird stuff on that record because I thought it was probably my only moment. 'Sugar, We're Goin Down' was a fairly straight ahead pop punk song but even that was weird for us, because it was slow. I remember being really scared about how slow it was, because it's almost mosh tempo for the whole song, which was not anything we had done up to that point. But in every direction, in every song, I was actively trying to push the boundaries as much as I could. 'Dance, Dance' was one of those ones where I was seeing what I can get away with, because I might never get this chance again. We were on tour with a friend's band, and I remember playing the record for them. I remember specifically playing 'Our Lawyer…' that opens the record, which has that 6/8 time feel, and they kind of look at me, like 'What?'. Then I played 'Dance, Dance', and they're like, 'Hey man, you know, whatever works for you. It's been nice knowing you'. But I just knew that, on the off chance that I ended up still being a musician in my 40s, I wanted to still love the music that we made. I didn't want to ever resent it. It's ironic because people say that bands sell out when they don't make the same thing over and over again. But wait a second. Say that again. Think about that.

That attitude seemed to carry directly into 'Infinity On High'. If you may never end up doing this again then let's make sure we bring in the orchestra while we still can...

PATRICK: That was literally something that I did say to myself this might be the last time, the likelihood is we're going to fail because that's what happens, so this might be the last time that I ever get a chance to have somebody pay for an orchestra and a choir. I always think of The Who when they did 'A Quick One, While He's Away' and there's a part where they go 'cello, cello', because they couldn't afford real cellos, they couldn't afford players. That's what I thought would happen for me in life. So I went in and thought, let's do it all. Let's throw everything at the wall, because there's no chance that it's going to happen again. So many things came together on that record, but I didn't expect it. 'Arms Race' was a very weird song, and I was shocked when management went along with it and had kind of decided that would be the single. I was in disbelief. It did not feel like a single but it worked for us. It was a pretty big song and then 'Thnks Fr Th Mmrs' was easily the big hit off that record. So then we have two hit songs off of an album that I didn't even know would come out at that point. But again, it was very much just about taking the risks and seeing what the hell happened.

As you went on hiatus for a few years, you worked on a number of other creative projects. How did those end up influencing your approach to the band when you returned?

PETE: On the areas of the band where I led, I wanted to be a better leader. When you're younger and you're fighting for your ideas, I don't think that I was the greatest listener. I just wanted to be a better cog in the machine. When you're in a band originally, no one gives you the little band handbook and says 'these are the things you should do', you know? I just wanted to be a better version of who I was in the band.

PATRICK: There's a combination of things. 'Soul Punk' is a weird record. I love that record but I kind of resent that record for so many things. It's my solo record, but it's also not very me in a lot of ways. I had started with a very odd little art rock record, and then I had some personal tragedies happen. My EP that I put out far out sold expectations so then all of a sudden, Island Records goes, 'Oh, we think this could actually be something we want singles for'. I think we had all expected that I would be putting out a smaller indie record but then all of a sudden they were like 'oh, you could be a pop star'. So then I have to retrofit this art rock record into pop star hit music, and also channel personal tragedy through it. I hadn't ever really been a front man - I'd been a singer, but I hadn't really been a front man, and I hadn't really written lyrics, certainly not introspective, personal lyrics. So that whole record is so strange and muted to me. So I went from that album, which also failed so fucking hard - I should have gone to school after that one. But Pete had reached out to me just as a friend, and said 'I know you're in your own thing right now, and I know that you're not the kind of person that is going to be in my fantasy football league, so I'm not going to see you unless we make music. But you're my buddy, and that kind of bums me out that I don't see you at all, so I guess we have to make music'. I thought that was a fairly convincing pitch. It's true, that was what we do when we hang out - we make music. So we reconvene, and going into it, I had all these lessons that really made me understand Pete better, because Pete is the natural front end person. So many of our arguments and frustrations and the things that we didn't see eye to eye on, I grew to understand having now been in the position of the point man that had to make all the decisions for my solo thing. It really flipped my understanding of why he said the things he would say, or why he did things he would do. I remember early on thinking he was so pushy, but then, in retrospect, you realise he was doing it for a reason. There's so many little things that really changed for me doing 'Soul Punk' that were not musical but were more about how you run a band and how you run a business, that made me understand and respect him a lot more.

What are memories of that initial return and, specifically, that tiny first show back at the Metro venue in Chicago?

PETE: Those first shows were definitely magical because I really wasn't sure that we would be on a stage again together. I don't have as many memories of some of our other first things. We were just talking about Warped Tour, I don't have many memories of those because it is almost wasted on you when it's a blur and there's so many things happening. But with this, I really wanted to not take it for granted and wanted to take in all the moments and have snapshots in our own heads of that show. I did a lot of other art during the time when we were off, everybody did, but there's a magic between the four of us and it was nice to know that it was real. When we got on that stage again at the Metro for the first time, there was something that's just a little different. I can't really put my finger on it, but it makes that art that we were making separately different than all the other stuff.

Musically, as you moved forward, everything sounded much bigger, almost ready for arenas and stadiums. Was that a conscious decision on your part?

PETE: Patrick felt like he was bursting with these ideas. It felt like these had been lying in wait, and they were big, and they were out there, and whether he'd saved them for those records, I don't really know. That's what it felt like to me. With 'Save Rock And Roll', we knew we had basically one shot. There were really three options; you'll have this other period in your career, no one will care or this will be the torch that burns the whole thing down. So we wanted to have it be at least on our terms. Then I think with 'American Beauty...' it was slightly different, because we made that record as fast as we could. We were in a pop sphere. Is there a way for a band to be competitive with DJs and rappers in terms of response time? Are we able to be on the scene and have it happen as quickly? I think it kind of made us insane a little bit. With 'American Beauty…', we really realised that we were not going to walk that same path in pop culture and that we would need to 'Trojan horse' our way into the conversation in some way. So we thought these songs could be played in stadiums, that these songs could be end titles. What are other avenues? Because radio didn't want this right now, so what are other avenues to make it to that conversation? Maybe this is just in my head but I thought 'Uma Thurman' could be a sister song to 'Dance, Dance' or maybe even 'Arms Race' where it is weird but it has pop elements to it.

PATRICK: I had a feeling on 'Save Rock And Roll' that it was kind of disjointed. It was a lot of good songs, but they were all over the place. So when we went into 'American Beauty…', I really wanted to make something cohesive. I do think that record is very coherent and very succinct - you either like it or you don't, and that's pretty much it all the way through. By the time we got to 'MANIA', I had done all this production and I'd started to get into scoring. The band had done so many things and taken so many weird chances that I just felt free to do whatever. At that point, no one's going to disown me if I try something really strange so let's see what happens. 'Young And Menace' was a big part of that experiment. People hate that song, and that's okay. It was meant to be challenging, it's obviously not supposed to be a pop song. It's an abrasive song, it should not have been a single. However, I do think that record should have been more like that. Towards the end of the production, there was this scramble of like, 'Oh, fuck, we have no pop music on this and we need to have singles' and things like that. That took over that record and became the last minute push. I think the last half of that record was recorded in the span of two weeks towards the end of the recording to try and pad it with more pop related songs. I look at that record and think it should have all been 'Young And Menace'. That should have been our 'Kid A' or something. It should have really challenged people.

But we have spoken before about how 'Folie à Deux' found its audience much later. It does feel like something similar is already beginning to happen with 'MANIA'...

PETE: I agree with you, and I think that's a great question, because I always thought like that. There's things that you're not there for, but you wish you were there. I always thought about it when we put out 'MANIA', because I don't know if it's for everyone, but this is your moment where you could change the course of history, you know, this could be your next 'Folie à Deux', which is bizarre because they're completely different records. But it also seems, and I think I have this with films and bands and stuff as well, that while one thing ascends, you see people grab onto the thing that other people wouldn't know, right? It's like me talking about 'Joker 2' - why not talk about the first one? That's the one that everybody likes. Maybe it's contrarian, I don't really know. I just purely like it. I'm sure that's what people say about 'Folie à Deux' and 'MANIA' as well. But there's something in the ascent where people begin to diverge, you are able to separate them and go 'Well, maybe this one's just for me and people like me. I like these other ones that other people talk about, but this one speaks to me'. I think over time, as they separate, the more people are able to say that. And then I can say this, because Patrick does music, I think that sometimes he's early on ideas, and time catches up with it a little bit as well. The ideas, and the guest on the record, they all make a little bit more sense as time goes on.

'MANIA' is almost the first of your albums designed for the streaming era. Everything is so different so people could almost pick and choose their own playlist.

PETE: Of course, you can curate it yourself. That's a great point. I think that the other point that you just made me think of is this was the first time where we realised, well, there's not really gatekeepers. The song will raise its hand, just like exactly what you're saying. So we should have probably just had 'The Last Of The Real Ones' be an early single, because that song was the one that people reacted to. But I think that there was still the old way of thinking in terms of picking the song that we think has the best chance, or whatever. But since then, we've just allowed the songs to dictate what path they take. I think that that's brilliant. If I'd had a chance to do that, curate my own record and pick the Metallica songs or whatever,that would be fantastic. So it was truly a learning experience in the way you release art to me.

PATRICK: After 'MANIA', I realised Fall Out Boy can't be the place for me to try everything. It's just not. We've been around for too long. We've been doing things for too long. It can't be my place to throw everything at the wall. There's too much that I've learned from scoring and from production now to put it all into it. So the scoring thing really became even more necessary. I needed it, emotionally. I needed a place to do everything, to have tubas and learn how to write jazz and how to write for the first trumpet. So then going into 'So Much (For) Stardust', it had the effect of making me more excited about rock music again, because I didn't feel the weight of all of this musical experimentation so I could just enjoy writing a rock song. It's funny, because I think it really grew into that towards the end of writing the record. I'd bet you, if we waited another month, it would probably be all more rock, because I had a rediscovered interest in it.

It's interesting you talk about the enjoyment of rock music again because that joy comes through on 'So Much (For) Stardust' in a major way, particularly on something like the title track. When the four of you all hit those closing harmonies together, especially live, that's a moment where everything feels fully cohesive and together and you can really enjoy yourselves. There's still experimental moments on the album but you guys are in a very confident and comfortable space right now and it definitely shows in the music.

PATRICK: Yeah, I think that's a great point. When you talk about experimentation too and comfort, that's really the thing isn't it? This is always a thing that bugged me, because I never liked to jam when I was a kid. I really wanted to learn the part, memorise it and play it. Miles Davis was a side man for 20 years before he started doing his thing. You need to learn the shit out of your music theory and your instrument - you need to learn all the rules before you break them. I always had that mindset. But at this point, we as a band have worked with each other so much that now we can fuck around musically in ways that we didn't used to be able to and it's really exciting. There's just so much I notice now. There are ways that we all play that are really hard to describe. I think if you were to pull any one of the four of us out of it, I would really miss it. I would really miss that. It is this kind of alchemy of the way everyone works together. It's confidence, it's also comfort. It's like there's a home to it that I feel works so well. It's how I'm able to sing the way I sing, or it's how Andy's able to play the way he plays. There's something to it. We unlock stuff for each other.

Before we close, we must mention the other big live moment you had this year. You had played at Download Festival before but taking the headline slot, especially given the history of Donington, must have felt extra special.

PETE: It felt insane. We always have a little bit of nerves about Download, wondering are we heavy enough? To the credit of the fans and the other bands playing, we have always felt so welcomed when we're there. There's very few times where you can look back on a time when... so, if I was a professional baseball player, and I'm throwing a ball against the wall in my parents garage as a kid, I could draw a direct link from the feeling of wanting to do that. I remember watching Metallica videos at Donington and thinking 'I want to be in Metallica at Donington'. That's not exactly how it turned out, but in some ways there is that direct link. On just a personal level, my family came over and got to see the festival. They were wearing the boots and we were in the mud. All this stuff that I would describe to them sounds insane when you tell your family in America - 'It's raining, but people love it'. For them to get to experience that was super special for me as well. We played the biggest production we've ever had and to get to do that there, the whole thing really made my summer.

PATRICK: There's not really words for it. It feels so improbable and so unlikely. Something hit me this last year, this last tour, where I would get out on stage and I'd be like, 'Wait, fucking seriously? People still want to see us and want to hear us?' It feels so strange and surreal. I go home and I'm just some schlubby Dad and I have to take out the compost and I have to remember to run the dishwasher. I live this not very exciting life, and then I get out there at Download and it's all these people. Because I'm naturally kind of shy, for years, I would look down when I played because I was so stressed about what was happening. Confidence and all these have given me a different posture so when I go out there, I can really see it, and it really hits you. Download, like you said, we've done before, but there's something very different about where I am now as a person. So I can really be there. And when you walk out on that stage, it is astounding. It forces you to play better and work harder, because these people waited for us. The show is the audience and your interaction with it. In the same way that the band has this alchemy to it, we can't play a show like that without that audience.

#sir the ''schlubby dad'' in question is getting on stage and GROWLING. people are dying and creaming and dying and cr #time capsule #read the charts #fall out boy #patrick stump #pete wentz #joe trohman #andy hurley

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npookie0 · 3 months ago

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can you do kc x a silly reader?? like one that is overall very unhinged and out of pocket and filled to the brim with the silly :3

Sure :3

Silly reader x KC

Tw. Very silly and goofy reader ><

Ever since you joined the server, you proved yourself to be quite the silly goof. In voice calls you would drop some unhinged lines or ideas.

"What if someone were to mix glitter in spilled blood? Like imagine a massacred head and glitter spilling from it with blood and brain." You said suddenly after Ronin dropped his usual cocky remark towards Angel.

At first there was silence, something you experienced many times, the killers have to register your words before they can answer.

Next thing you know, Misaki is bursting out, laughing and trying to catch their breath. "Oh fuck, you're so stupid MC." They almost choked while they were laughing.

"Your ideas are certainly... Something ." V said and sighed. "Hitmeup please drink some water." He said to Misaki who was still coughing.

"Woah darlin', the more things you say the more interesting your ideas become. Maybe I should test it out for you?" Ronin chuckled darkly. "Or maybe you could do that Angel? Glitter is your thing after all."

"Oh, fuck off Ronin." Angel sighed and you could swear that she rolled her eyes even if you didn't see her. "That's a very creative idea MC, can't wait to hear more." She chuckled warmly, her voice as sweet as ever.

Sometimes the server members just wake up to a spam of memes in the media channel from you just because you felt like it.

One time you even sent a stick man drawing of Ronin as JD from Heathers the Musical. Everyone, excluding Ronin, was cracking up at the drawing.

<@Angelic>: OMG I love you @MC please this is perfect

<@goreboy>: do you Want Me to use my Crowbar on Ya @MC? you too Angel.

<@MC>: Ronin, accept it. You're him and he's you.

Another time you decided to start the "hear me out cake" with the killers... Your answers were something.

"What do you mean by 'the letter A' dude?!" Luca asked after you sent a picture of said letter under the picture of a random cake.

"What do you mean? It gives off hot vibes, like a hot popular girl, tell me you get it Misaki." You replied and moved the question to Misaki.

"I have zero fucking idea, but hey it's still better than what you sent in the previous round."

"What do you mean? The lizard guy from Star Butterfly was HOT!" You exclaimed. "You bunch have no taste."

The killers couldn't say that their time with you wasn't interesting. You were unhinged and blunt. You never thought about your words, you just said whatever you wanted even in the most inappropriate moments.

<@MC>: Guys I think that kids should be locked up like animals in zoo and experienced on, if they want to act like wild beasts.

<@_LUCA_IS_COOL_>: What the hell dude? We were talking about our plans for the holidays.

<@h1tneuppp>: Shhh, this is about to get interesting.

Ronin:

Your silly nature was interesting for him. You sometimes dropped random traumatic experiences from your life, or just said something very unhinged.

Ronin can't complain about being bored with you around. If he's not persuading you into killing, you will drag him around the town or take him for random expeditions because you can't sit in one place for longer than five seconds.

Sometimes Ronin will just stand next to you in silence while you're doing something crazy, examples:

"MC, darlin', what the fuck are you doing?" Ronin asked, his eyes showed just how confused he was. Well, who wouldn't be confused if they saw their partner chasing after leafs in a park.

"I'm trying to catch the prettiest one." You replied like it was the most normal and obvious answer. Ronin just nodded. He was in awe about how little care you showed whenever someone gave you the side eye.

Ronin left you alone in his house for twenty minutes, apparently there was a very special asshole going around town and Ronin just had to deal with him. When he returned home he knew that you would do something crazy (at least in your way), but he would never imagine walking in on you while you were trying to dress up his rat BlackJack in a mini version of his clothes.

"Baby, would you mind telling me, why the hell is my rat dressed like me?" Ronin leaned on the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Huh?" You turned around to look at him, the rat curled up in your hands. "Well, you're like a rat, and BlackJack is a smol version of Ronin." You giggled with a sinister glimmer in your eyes. Ronin shook his head and approached you, he placed a kiss to your forehead and took the animal from your hands. "You're so fuckin' adorable sometimes."

Whenever you actually killed someone, you sent a picture to the #killer_shit channel, your murders were especially peculiar. The bodies were mostly untouched, expect the corpse having either an extremely bloody wound so you could draw a hello kitty head around the body or some silly doodles curved into them.

<@goreboy>: Woah baby, your art skills are getting better.

You smiled at Ronin's response and then scoffed when he sent a picture of his new kill with a satanic symbol curved into it.

<@goreboy>: Not as good as mine tho.

Headcanons >w<

- Ronin loves listening to your ramblings, even if you're talking about the most stupid stuff ever. He usually plays with your hair and looking through his phone while you just yap his ear off.

- Sometimes when you two decide to do some romantic homicide, you're the most silly killer Ronin has ever seen, you're literally gluing sequins around the curvings that Ronin leaves on the body, once you ever did a whole glamour make up look on a guy who according to Ronin abused his trans daughter.

- You doodle Ronin as JD and yourself as Veronica Sawyer, you even told him that you two will cosplay them for the next Halloween and if he dares to disagree, he will wake up with a sea of glitter in his bed.

- "You're like a more hygienic raccoon babe." Ronin said after he caught you looking for a late night snack around his kitchen in the clothes you stole from him.

- "Ronin, let's kidnap a snake from the zoo." You said, it was the middle of the night, you and Ronin were relaxing after some intimate time. Ronin looked at you and laughed. "Wow babe, you really pick the best times for these things." His laugh deep and long, arm over his face as he brushed his hair back. "I fuckin' love it about you."

V was dumbfounded by every single unhinged idea you shared with him. He didn't know if having any expectations had a point anymore. Whenever he thought that your ideas couldn't get even more unique, you came up with an even more creative ideas.

"V." You called as you ran towards him and ran in circles around him. You almost tripped, but V managed to catch you. He sighed and helped you stand.

"My love, please be more careful. He pinched his nose bridge for which you only giggled.

"Aw, it's fine V! You'll always catch me. Anyway-" And for the next ten minutes you were rambling about a new idea, V couldn't even follow your voice. He was just too amazed by how many things your mind could think of at once.

Even if he couldn't wrap his mind around your way of thinking, V was happy knowing that your soul was pure, you wouldn't kill people ruthlessly, you didn't even think about that. But sometimes he tends to question your innocence, whenever he tells you about a new bastard he has to eliminate, you turn around with a wide smile and in the sweetest voice known to man you were giving him an idea of how he should get rid of that pest.

"My love, your ideas are positively terrifying. Maybe i should try it out for you on that rotten beast." He placed a kiss to your knuckles with a proud smile and a warm look in his eyes.

Headcanons X3

- V enjoys it when you're playing with his hair, putting it up or just twisting it around your fingers, while you're just talking about the silly ideas.

- "V, let's go and buy some cute outfits for your animals." You said while you were watching the bird V named after you. "Love, I want to remind you that most of my animals are dangerous and feed on humans." He replied with a slight hint of a smile. "But they also deserve something cute to wear." You exclaimed, it earned you a chuckle from him and a kiss on the lips. "Fine, fine. We can try finding something cute for them."

- V has to carry the first aid kit with himself whenever the two of you are outside. You have a tendency to run around carelessly, climb treat when you see something stuck on one. Most of these adventures end up with a scraped knee or a small injury that V has to clean up. "Please, be more careful." He says, knowing that you will do the same thing again.

- Sometimes when V wakes up and goes to the bathroom to get ready for the day, he sees how his hair magically happened to have a lot of colorful and cute hair-clips in them. And you just so happen to be right next to the bathroom door and trying your hardest to hold back the giggle. For V that start of a day is just perfect, with his partner in a good mood and right next to him.

Misaki:

Misaki fucks with your silly and unhinged nature. They adore it, and the way your eyes light up when you see jut how invested she is.

You take their hand and drag them around Tokio, you're totally lost and she just chooses to let you try and find your way. When you give up with a big sad pout on your face, they kiss you and take you for a piggyback.

"Don't worry pookie bear, I know my way around town." They say with a confident smirk and you just chuckle.

"Wow, you're my hero Misaki."

When Misaki spams your DMs with how panicked they are about the next assassination, you will send your selfie with you pointing on your lips.

<@MC>: Is this motivating enough?

<@h1tmeupp>: Babe omw to be done with this shit and kiss that stupidly sweet lips of yours.

<@MC>: Waiting ;p

Misaki loves it when you're stealing their clothes and return them with a small new added mark - a painted flower here, a sewed in patch of an anime character that you like there. They will wear that piece of clothing like it's something given by gods and will make sure to brag about you to the server and their parents.

Headcanons >:D

- You will call Misaki in the middle of the night because you just came up with a new theory about your favourite media and she just ha to listen to your yap session.

- Your nicknames for Misaki are just chef's kiss, some of their favourites: Cutie patootie, lil sniper mask, alpha sigma, babyperson.

- When Misaki doesn't reply because they're asleep or buy you will flood their dms with memes or sad cat pictures,

- You will join in on Misaki's weak tries to rizz up V, you know that it's a joke and you find it extremely funny.

- When you're about to return to your country from visiting Misaki, you will steal their clothes and find a perfume matching their scent, and she will take your clothes and your perfume.

Angel:

Angel is fascinated by you, and your ways of making fun of Ronin but still not sounding like a total asshole. You will always make sure to keep your remarks lighthearted and keep the relationship between you and Angel's ex boyfriend and currently closest friend chill.

"Can I open my eyes now?" Angel asks, you were standing in front of her and applying some make up on her.

"Nooo, I'm not done yet." You reply and move the lipstick on her lips. "Ta! Dah!" You said and held the mirror in front of her face. Angel opened her eyes and gasped, then she laughed and looked at you with a loving warmth in her gaze.

"You wanted to make me look like Jennifer?" She asked.

"Yeah! You called her hot, and I wanted to check if my skills are as good as think they are." You say with a proud smirk. Angel stands up and kissed you.

"I love it, but we do need to work on your skills cariño."

When Angel found a new manager, you and Ronin were ready to throw hands. Well you took action in your own hands and left them a small note in their bag "Hurt Maria and I will break your spine." It would be very threatening. if you didn't use a colorful pencil with glitter in it.

Headcanons <3

- Angel enjoys laying in bed with you, snuggled up to you as you discuss her new video or some of your interests. She feels so close to you, these moments are perfect.

- Whenever Angel has a taught day at work you will go and basically kidnap her, you carry her bridal style to the nearest cafe and keep her away from watching her phone. Sometimes she may seem irritated with it, but you will kiss her or hold her close and this irritation disappears.

- One day Angel found her pink gun in the living room with some doodles and sweet messages all over it. You came into the room and snatched the gun from her.

"I'm not done yet." You exclaimed and hid the gun behind your back.

"Awh, but I want to see it." She gave you a pout and you just gave in.

- For Halloween you dressed up as Ronin and gave Angel a full of one-person-show imitation of him. Angel can't hold back her laughter and holds her aching stomach.

"Oh, I love you." She wiped a tear away from her eye. "You're so amazing love."

#v killer chat #killer chat ronin #killer chat #fluff #gender neutral reader #misaki killer chat #ronin beaufort #ronin killer chat #killer chat angel #fanfic

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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 years ago

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I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience.

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream.

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel.

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside.

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement.

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either.

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day.

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price.

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear.

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks."

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke.

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes.

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things.

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to.

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you."

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not.

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed.

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young.

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant.

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick.

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car.

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh.

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for.

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old."

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had.

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan.

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his.

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away.

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in.

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good…

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point.

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest.

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects.

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…"

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple.

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want…

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying.

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already.

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…"

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull.

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth.

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago.

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway."

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed.

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap.

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too.

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?"

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say.

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes.

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart.

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?"

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco.

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not...

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong.

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in.

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream.

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?"

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise.

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel…

And Alaska.

#john price x you #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain price x you #price x reader #captain price smut #captain price x reader #john price smut #john price #mw2 smut #captain john price #john price fanfic #cod fanfic

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sometimeslwish · 2 months ago

Text

Skyfall: All things End

So I was listening to Skyfall on loop cause it reminded me of the spoilers I've seen about Sylus' myth, and because I've been reading angst lately:

Mc has been reborn, but her memories went to someone else, that someone else is... well, you.

You've always been creative as a child, great at telling stories and even better at singing thanks to your family. You've dreamt about those moments since you were 12, always thinking those were just dreams, leftover from your wild imagination, even if they crushed your soul in the process with how vivid and realistic they were.

You grow up to become an actor, singer and songwriter. The songs are filled with themes of mystery, violence, fantasy, obsession and references to a forbidden love that ends much too soon after the death of a lover. The details change, but the story is always the same.

A woman, reborn time and time again, sometimes powerful and feared, others afraid but determined, many variations that lead to the same outcome: she encounters a man. He's the opposite of what she is or stands for, born as each others enemy. Sometimes it starts rough, both at each other's necks, sometimes it's just one of them who wants to kill while the other is simply entertained by the attempts. There's times when she'll be afraid of him, but will still stand her ground, others where he's her subject, even if under a leash.

On each one, they learn and become stronger, reaching the same level of power and growing comfortable with each other, only for it to be all ripped away.

Sometimes he dies, sometimes it's her.

You've started to gain traction after your last album. The songs are a little bit more hopeful and empowering, but they still carry the hints to the pain. You're in the middle of an interview, talking about your inspiration when you talk about your dreams. You mention considering the idea of making an album for a movie centered on the dreams, how you've gone back on your dream journals to organize everything and the fact that you're halfway through.

The interview ends with you talking about who you would like to cast for the male lead, if the choice was on your hands, and that's when you mention the man. You give chopped up features, mentioning how you've never fully remembered his face, only his voice and height. You end up describing the up and coming actor named Sylus without being aware of it.

The internet goes crazy with it.

They keep mentioning it even after your tour and next thing you know, it's no longer an idea, but a full sized project. Of course, Sylus said yes– or his manager did, who knows– and when you meet him, your world shifts on its axis. It's him, the man you've been dreaming of, the voice in your dreams you started using in your head to encourage yourself. He's real and alive.

You have no time to recollect and center yourself as he approaches along with his manager. You recognize her too, she's the woman you've seeing in your dreams. Great to finally meet the lovers, you think bitterly.

You're tense and jumpy, but you manage– through internal screams and tears, but you manage. He offers nothing to you as both of you read the script and exchange comments on scenes, and the concoction of emotions inside of you leave a sour taste in your mouth.

Does he remember? Doesn't he suspect you? Their past lives are detailed in that script, and somehow you know every detail without being her. Does he know you're the one who wrote the script? He has to, that part of the interview was the most popular, it made rounds on the internet for a while.

Why won't he say anything?

You feel more conflicted each time you see them interact, and it's even worse after you and Sylus start getting closer and comfortable with each other. Bitterness, happiness, sadness, hope, dread. Those are the emotions that you stew in. You use them to write on restless nights, songs filled with despair and yearning alike. It's harder to keep the facade the longer you go.

You don't explode, that would be a lie, you simply break during a particular scene. You can still tell between reality and fiction, but your heart doesn't. When you're acting the scene in which you loose him, holding him in your arms as you wail, you bring everyone to tears with you.

Everyone congratulates you after the scene.

"Your acting was great," says a background actor.

"That scene will surely get you an award," whispers your manager.

"It gave me full body chills!"

You smile and say your thanks, try to be humble even through the numbness of it all. There's a difference in Sylus' behavior after that, you can't pinpoint what it is, but you can guess what the reason is.

The curtain is about to close, so you pay no mind to it, you've accepted your fate, even if it hurts like hell.

@leighsartworks216 @comatosebunny09 seeing you guys being angsty rubbed off on me, so I'll thank you for inspiring this mess of an idea

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vulpisnocturna · 10 months ago

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My deary. I see you are back (hopefully somewhat better), but I need you bad as ever!

Yes I totally ripped that from a song, but it’s literally what came to mind.

Been thinking *a lot,* per usual. About all the Uchiha men in my life. You know me, biggest Shisui slut to have scorched this planet. Anyways, if you’re feeling it, it doesn’t necessarily have to be Shisui—can be Itachi. Or whatever.

Wildcard list of hc for these men. Things that they didn’t realize were arousing, but then when they see you do them—it just tightens the slacks a bit. Probably something they should feel ashamed about but don’t.

And in all honesty if your not feeling it, then I totally appreciate you reading my wild whims. Or if something else, because creative freedom is always appreciated from my favs here, do something else.

I just really crave this man, and your writing of him. I eat the words your fingertips formulate like a rabid beast.

Sincerely,

Me 🙂❤️❤️

My darling! Let me see what I can cook.

Shisui - Itachi secret turn ons (?) 🫶🏻

Shisui

- puns. I think Shisui would be the type of guy who sees you make a stupid dad joke or pun and he is like

- red lipstick. I don’t know why, it just makes his knees jelly and something else quite… hard.

-sassiness. It makes him smile, especially if you’re quite a bit shorter than him, he thinks it’s cute.

Itachi

- I think Weasel Boy is into thigh high socks (me too tbh). I think he would stare like he’s trying to X-ray your legs if you wore thigh high socks

- Smiles. Your smiles to him are extremely sweet and also uplifting. And yes, they turn him on. One, because you’re smiling at him and his heart is going crazy knowing he made you happy, two because there’s so much cruelty in the world and you look so radiant and you’re his light. He’ll gift you a little smile of his own 🥹

- If you read to him 🥺 especially when he’s blind AF. He is going to be so in love with that stuff. Bonus points (and probably Itachi going feral) if you brush his hair while you read to him. Itachi when Reader does these things:

#itachi #uchiha itachi #itachi uchiha #itachi headcanons #itachi x reader #itachi x y/n #shisui uchiha #shisui #shisui x reader #shisui headcanons #shisui x y/n

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drinkthehalo · 27 days ago

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Goodbye to the McKittrick Hotel

April 16, 2011. My friend Tammy had told me she'd seen an incredible production of Macbeth that she was certain I would love. I walked into the McKittrick Hotel that Saturday night with no idea that I was entering a place that would change my life forever.

What an extraordinary, fruitful place of creative energy it was. How wild, almost unbelievable, that such a place survived in New York City for nearly fourteen years.

My first impression: You have to walk around and climb stairs and wear a mask? How can you do Shakespeare without dialog? Until I realized the dialog was in the dance, and the rave shocked my jaded sensibilities, and I was in a tiny room with a beautiful sobbing naked man, and then I went home and dreamed about it and knew I had to go back.

Then the parties. Halloween 2011 was the best event party I had ever been to - welcoming, engaging, fun. For fourteen years the McKittrick became my Halloweens, my New Years Eves, my May Fairs (I didn't even know that was a thing), that wonderful exhausting year of 2016 when they did Supercinema almost every month. The parties became more elaborate, the costumes, the set designs, the stories, the interactions, the performances. The Paisley Players, the epic ballroom extravaganzas, the tableaus in the walled garden...

Remixed (the first) remains the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life. November Rain at the banquet. The Imperial March in the maze. Diamonds are Forever, forever...

The Boy Witch party made me cry and cry. Two nights only and it was probably the best thing I've ever seen. The carousel on the ballroom stage, the fire, the lady in pink tights, the lost love. Every time I hear that version of Crazy in Love, I feel that emotion again.

At the Clue party, Maximilian led us through the floors, and we watched Neil Patrick Harris chop off his own head in the Macbeth bedroom.

Fourth of July 2012, after the show, a marching band played as we climbed six floors to the roof to reveal a beautiful secret garden where we watched the fireworks. Gallow Green was magical in the early days, with Paul Corning's gardener watering plants and occasionally leading people away, and Annabella planting herbs and making potions with us.

One day after the show, Lulu put a stamp on my hand and told me to go to the elevator. I took it up and a character led me into the Heath for the first time. We'd go there for drinks or dinner, watch Elizabeth Lindsey glide through the space like watching a portal into a film noir, follow instructions on secret notes and hope to win the lottery. (Once I did; Ginger took me, blindfolded, to High Street, and I still have the memories of discombobulated absurdity - and a spoon with my name engraved on it.)

Then they put a cozy little Scottish lodge on the roof, with bunk beds and blankets and heaters, and a forest out back with a canoe? in a tent. We'd huddle around the fire pit, or sprawl on the bed. All the books were pre-1939. At some point there was a room full of board games. My friend Matty would sit at the desk writing his dissertation and people thought he was a character.

I watched Rosemary's Baby on the rooftop, curated by Amy Poehler, and Vertigo in the ballroom, shivering in the air conditioner.

Calloway started doing these "salons" in the Manderley after the show, with songs and narratives and recurring characters and Hans dying every time. Then one day the email said something about "McKittrick Follies," and I showed up and characters were singing and telling stories and everyone was drinking and talking into the night.

I can't believe we were so spoiled by that boundless creative energy for so long. For months? years? we had a weekly Follies, then... biweekly? Sunday afternoons we'd sit on the beds in the Lodge drinking mulled wine before going down to the Follies; then Wednesdays I'd work late and walk into the Manderley at 10pm, or go home and walk up the High Line to come back, listening to the show crowd's excited chatter as they exited, entering to music and humor and drinks that flowed and flowed and flowed. So much extraordinary talent, all concentrated in this one place and sparkling off of each other, creating and creating and creating.

Ginger was so funny. Lily's voice was beautiful. Mallory was the bawdiest thing. Nick's Maximilian was a true original. Conor and Austin were so awkward and snarky. JWW has the most dear, sweet, unique style. I can't list everyone; I can't believe we were blessed with so much.

There were so many incredible singers and musicians over the years. Kat Cunning. Lisa McQuade. Julia Haltigan. Stephanie Amoroso. Onalea Gilbertson. Every iteration of the Manderley band was full of wildly talented musicians. I was lucky enough to see Cibo Matto in the Heath, and Leslie Odom Jr in the Manderley. The place was absolutely punching above its weight in terms of talent.

I learned to drink in the Manderley bar. When I first went, the only drink I knew how to order was a Sex on the Beach. I had my first gin gimlet at the Manderley Bar. The Professor, Brandon Tyler Harris, asked me what gin I liked, and I didn't know, so I tried them all and discovered that it's Hendricks. Then I switched to smoky mezcal margaritas, and drank them for years, occasionally starting trends. Later it was scotch sours, smoky Laphroaig, heaven in a glass. At the Heath they'd had my all time favorite drink, long gone; something with Scotch, orgeat, and a cabernet float... I'm at the age now where I've largely had to stop drinking; the era of alcohol in my life will always be tied up in the McKittrick.

If it weren't for Sleep No More, I wouldn't have gone to London and made many of my dearest friends; would never have experienced Shanghai the way I did, with local friends to guide me.

Lily Ockwell brought me on the Manderley stage on my birthday. The lights were very bright. Could she have imagined how utterly terrified I was? In a good way.

At my 100th show, Kit/Ginger bought me a drink as soon as I walked in.

Gus from front of house overheard me talking about an upcoming trip to Shanghai and invited himself along. We had so much fun, we took a trip to Costa Rica the next year.

After my cat Lucifer died, London gave me the biggest hug as soon as he saw me.

At Austin Goodwin's Juilliard graduation performance, the whole evening was so beautiful. All these extraordinary young people who'd worked so hard, accomplished so much, brimming with possibility for their futures. I wanted so much to be one of the families, full of pride and love for someone I'd helped nurture. When I wrote a tumblr post wrestling with the decision to have a child, Austin sent me a message telling me he thought I'd make a good mother. It is one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me, and helped me make one of the hardest decisions I've ever made.

Once on new years eve, Anabella gave me a Tarot card - Ten of Pentacles. I knew when I got that card that it was about my desire to have my own family, a child of my own. I put it on my fridge as inspiration and it's still there next to pictures of my kid.

I met my best friend on High Street, looking in the window of the tailor shop, watching Paul Zivkovich as a clown. This is the friend who is now in my will to take care of my child if I die.

I say I'm not creative, but the McKittrick brought out the creativity I do have. So many words in this blog. Several interviews for academic papers or articles. A box full of costumes in my closet: Andrea Alden in the Infidelity Ballet scene; Medusa out of a bunch of plastic snakes I painted and attached to a headdress; Vampire Willow; a Baz Luhrman Capulet; Mrs White. I see photos and find myself wearing costumes I don't even remember.

In early 2020, I hadn't been going to Sleep No More for a while, but when covid got scary, suddenly that's where I had to be. I was there until the day I showed up and the doors were closed.

I genuinely wonder, will I ever be as good at anything in my adult life as I was at following the Macbeth loop? I knew just where to stand, to view a perfect wide shot, to see a close up at a respectful distance. I loved to follow Macbeth down the corridor into the rave, a shadow halo'd in red, arms out against the tin walls. And to follow him out, running full speed, enraged and out of control as the music swelled and he went into the speakeasy to kill Banquo; there was no room for anything but adrenaline and utter absorption in the moment. To follow the Macbeths down the stairs as they screamed and shoved and kissed chocolate blood all over each others' faces. To stand still in the bedroom as they danced and fought around the room, the audience swarming around them, everything moving around me from close up to wide shot to close up.

Will anything bring as much peace as a Porter loop? I could always go there when I was sad. The hotel lobby was my favorite space. So dark it was almost black; figures emerging through the shroud of darkness. The tiny office, the papers and pencils. The sweet silliness of that character, the eternal hope. The overwhelming sadness. To be the one not chosen. Trapped, unable to change anyone's fate, watching and witnessing.

I used to think, there's a lot of downtime in this loop between the big moments like the cabaret, but in the end I realized, there is no downtime. Every moment is beautiful. I'd go there just to see the ominous deer loom over him as he reset the dining room, or to see those white sheets moving through the darkness like abstract art.

Zach McNally's Porter was my first 1:1, in 2012. I remember watching the tears down his face during the cabaret and thinking, wait, this character is as important as the Boy Witch. On Saturday, I watched him fade away into the shadows for the last time.

At the very last show, Andrew Robinson's Porter cried along with the audience as we watched him trace his hand. At the end, he cut his toast into a tiny heart and gave it to Danvers. She burst into tears, cut it in half, and they ate it together.

Boy Witch ended for me when my favorites left; it was all memories, echoes of the past. I'll never forget Conor, who always saw me, no matter how far away I stood, and always created some little moment to make my night special.

(I used to rarely watch the shower scene, and once he ran up to me in the bar and told me, you paid for your ticket, you can watch what you want to watch.)

Oddly, at my second-to-last show, I followed Macduff. Never a favorite, but the choreography is so good. Steven Bangerter looks and moves so much like Rob McNeill, and his sweetness balances out the character. How extraordinary to see the echoes of Rob, who was in the 2003 London production, so clearly and vividly, 21 years and who knows how many performers later. (I did not see the original production, but there are photos, and the first time I saw Rob in the Drowned Man I thought, wow, he moves like Macduff.)

I was noticing new things up until the end. Macbeth, upside down in the ballroom at the reset; the hanged man Tarot card. Macduff, lifting Sexy Witch in the ballroom and spinning her around, like Rob McNeill once did to me as we danced to the finale stage at the end of a Drowned Man.

After the second Remixed, I worked up the nerve to speak to Stephen Dobbie, asked him about the song choices, raved about how great they were. I'd forgotten that the November Rain video actually has a banquet scene in it.

One time I sat across from Felix Barrett at dinner and accidentally changed the ending of the show. I complained that the matron just closes the door to the pagoda and black masks hurry you away; he made a note on his phone and within days it was better.

Once, I had a long conversation with Maxine in the Manderley. (And a few brief ones in London.) Sunday night when I said goodbye, she gave me a hug and said, you've been here all these years.

I don't know why it matters that I met these people. I'm not trying to break into the arts. Maybe I just have so much admiration for the people who've succeeded, in a world that makes it so difficult. Actually if I could have been anyone in the building, it would have been Carrie Boyd; color-coded spreadsheets are my jam. What an unsung superstar. Her salon was the best.

Once after a roundtable, I found a note in my bag from Ilana. "Thank you for your heart and mind." I'd say the same to her.

I don't even know what else to write. Fourteen years of memories. After I post this, I'll think, oh I should have mentioned that other thing too. How can you sum up something that meant so much?

The McKittrick was at the center of my experience of New York City; of my mid-adulthood. I will mourn it at the same time as I marvel that it ever happened, that I found it as early as I did, and that it could possibly have lasted so long.

#sleep no more #mckittrick hotel #punchdrunk #the mckittrick hotel #sleep no more nyc

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ponett · 5 months ago

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I spent a whole sunday reading through immortal hulk with the free trial, is there anything else good you would recommend to go through before the week's end? (I dont read many comics, the last one was I read was archie megaman)

Oh hell yeah, glad my tweets exposed at least one other person to Immortal Hulk. It's great

Admittedly I've only really started reading a variety of Marvel comics recently. I've liked characters like Spider-Man and the X-Men all my life, but I've only recently gotten over my aversion to just diving into random popular 616 stuff and not worrying about having the full context for everything. (I was finally like, oh yeah, I don't have to put up with the MCU and most of the cartoon adaptations being extremely mid, I can just go jump around and read the good stuff.) So I'm not the best person to ask. But here's stuff I've been enjoying recently:

Fantastic Four (2022) by Ryan North of Dinosaur Comics fame. Easily my highest recommendation here. Extremely fun and funny and heartfelt and creative science adventures. Immediately made me care about the Fantastic Four way more than I ever have. I subscribed to this one immediately upon catching up, and I hope North stays on for a good long while. (On a related note, I need to read North's Squirrel Girl run soon.)

Unbelievable Gwenpool (2018). As a series about a normal human girl transported into the comic world and getting by with her knowledge of comics, it's EXTREMELY meta, but instead of just going "haha isn't this all so dumb and tropey?" it ends up being a story about searching for meaning in superhero comic books where creative teams change all the time and the status quo reigns supreme. It's good stuff that goes some wild places. My only real gripe is the inconsistent art.

And they're only a few issues in and are still setting things up, but I'm enjoying the new Ultimates and Ultimate Spider-Man comics, which pick up following the Ultimate Invasion miniseries and the Ultimate Universe one-shot.

And uh... actually that's all the Marvel stuff I've been reading recently aside from Claremont X-Men - which is of course very good, but it's not as easy to recommend as these shorter, more standalone runs.

Some other relatively self-contained Marvel stuff I'd like to read soon:

Immortal Thor, the current series by Immortal Hulk writer Al Ewing that I hear is just as good

Ms. Marvel (2014)

Hawkeye (2012) by Matt Fraction

Spider-Man: Life Story

The Vision (2015)

And I hear Miles Morales: Spider-Man (2022) is pretty good and has Miles doing some crazy shounen anime shit while still being a street-level series, so I'm interested in checking that out

I'm also open to recommendations! I'm aware of many of the big hits, but, y'know, there's always gonna be good stuff that gets buried given the sheer volume of comics Marvel puts out every year

#anon #ask

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chaos-chloe · 17 days ago

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Can you do a fic about pezzy proposing to reader? Love your work! 🍒💙

Cloaked Proposal - Pezzy x Reader

Summary: Pezzy has Storytime after he was caught wearing an engagement ring

Tw: Traveling, engagement, storytime, lmk if i missed anything

Pezzyfan1: wait guys, have you realized he has been wearing a gold band on in ring finger?!

Pezzyfan2: IS THIS MAN MARRIED?!

Pezzyfan3: DID HE FINALLY POP THE QUESTION TO OUR PRETTY MAMA MOD

Pezzyfan1: OMG HE DID LOOK AT HIS SMIRK

“Okay, okay guys calm down.” Pezzy spoke as he started seeing chat going crazy with happiness or wildness. “Storytime! But yes, I did propose to __ or as y'all refer to her as mama mod.” He said with excitement to yap and get the story out and into the universe.

“Alright, alright calm down or no Storytime. So, y'all know that I took about a week off right to go to Canada to see Smii7y?” He questioned as he was waiting for some type of response from chat.

In the picturesque land of Nova Scotia, Canada, the sun began its descent, bathing the stunning Skyline Trail in a golden hue, casting long shadows over the lush greenery and the striking views of the bay. It was the end of summer, and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the sweet scent of pine and adventure.

__ and Pezzy had been together for four wonderful years—four years filled with laughter, shared dreams, and a love that had only deepened with time. They had faced challenges together, celebrated milestones, and created countless memories—each moment woven into the beautiful tapestry of their relationship. But as they explored the untamed wilderness of Nova Scotia, Pezzy felt an undeniable urge to take their bond to the next level.

What Pezzy had cleverly disguised as a casual hangout with his friend Smii7y turned into a carefully orchestrated proposal that had been months in the making. He had enlisted his friend to help him bring his vision to life, using their mutual interest in creative content to execute the perfect ruse.

As they strolled through the breathtaking trail, surrounded by lush forests and overlooking dramatic cliffs, Pezzy feigned casual conversation about the spectacular views, hoping to keep his girlfriend unaware of the surprise that awaited her. Smii7y, ever the entertainer, started filming the moment, capturing the beauty of nature while creating the perfect backdrop for what was to come.

As they reached the apex of the trail, the three of them paused to take in the panoramic vista. The sun hovered just above the horizon, splashing vibrant oranges and purples across the sky. Pezzy's heart raced. He turned to Smii7y, who nodded reassuringly, giving the cue to switch from a friendly outing to the moment he had anticipated.

“Hey, can you get a shot of us with the sunset in the background?” Pezzy asked casually, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

Smii7y complied, suggesting they gather a bit closer to the edge where the view was simply breathtaking. As they stood side by side, Pezzy exchanged furtive glances with Smii7y, who discreetly began recording. It was time.

Suddenly, Pezzy turned to ___, taking her hands gently in his. The playful smile on his face shifted to a serious expression as he spoke, his voice steady yet filled with emotion.

"You know how we’ve always talked about our dream future together? How has this journey been one of the best parts of my life?" He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in against the serene backdrop.

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, her heart racing as she noticed a shift in the atmosphere, the gravity of his expression piercing through the playful veil of their day.

"Pezzy, what is it?" she asked softly.

With a deep breath, Pezzy dropped to one knee, revealing a small velvet box that held the remaining last ring to complete her tri-ring set as it glinted in the warm afternoon glow. "I want to share my life with you, today and always. Will you marry me?"

Time stood still. The wind seemed to hush, the earth paused its rotation as her eyes widened in disbelief. She looked from the ring to Pezzy’s hopeful face, realization dawning upon her. “Oh my God, yes! Yes, a million times yes!”

The joyous laughter that erupted from her lips mixed with happy tears as Pezzy slipped the ring onto her finger. Smii7y, capturing the magical moment, cheered and offered his heartfelt congratulations. They embraced, surrounded by the breathtaking landscape, echoing their love through laughter and tears against the backdrop of the setting sun.

“-That is how we hid our engagement and how we tricked ___ into saying yes.” Pezzy finished with a dramatic flair, a smirk playing on his lips as he recounted the whimsical tale to his audience in the chat. His humor resonated against the soft glow of his webcam, engaging everyone who had tuned in to the storytime session.

Pezzyfan4: Can we see the ring set?

Pezzy’s expression shifted from playful amusement to mild confusion. “Oh yeah, she’s home right now! Let me see if I can go get her,” he said, his brow furrowing momentarily as he realized he hadn’t thought that part through.

With a quick glance off-camera, Pezzy called out, “Hey, babe! Can you come here for a sec?” His voice was casual, but inside, he felt a flutter of nerves and excitement, reminiscent of the day he proposed.

Moments later, she appeared at the door, curiosity sparkling in her eyes, and a smile brightening her face. “What’s up?” she asked, tilting her head, her hair cascading down past her shoulders like a waterfall.

“Everyone wants to see your ring!” Pezzy announced, motioning dramatically toward the chat. “Can you show it off?”

Her cheeks flushed with surprise, yet she beamed, stepping closer to the camera. “Oh, really? I didn’t think anyone wanted to see it!” She held out her hand, and the camera zoomed in, capturing the delicate sparkle of the engagement ring that had captured Pezzy’s heart in so many ways.

“It’s even more stunning in person,” she said, her voice soft but filled with newfound pride. “Honestly, Pezzy did such a good job choosing this—he knows my style perfectly.”

Pezzy shifted in his seat, glancing down and avoiding her gaze. “Well, actually, I forgot to tell you something about your rings…” he said, a hint of mischief in his voice, like a scolded child trying to muster the courage to reveal his secret.

“Oh? What’s up?” she replied, tilting her head slightly, her curiosity piqued.

“Do you remember how your Nona had a special ring picked out for everyone, but for some reason, no one could find yours?” Pezzy asked, carefully treading into delicate territory, not wanting to bring back any uncomfortable memories.

“Hmmm,” she hummed thoughtfully, reminiscing about her beloved grandmother and the family tradition that had always brought warmth to their gatherings.

Pezzy took a deep breath, the weight of his words pressing down on him. “That is why she gave me her first marriage—or wedding ring set—before she passed. She knew I was going to propose to you, and she wanted you to have something that held all the love and stories of her own journey.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, a mix of shock and tenderness washing over her face. “Wait, what? You have her ring?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, a shy smile creeping onto his lips as he revealed the depths of his heart. “It was a special moment. I visited her a few weeks before the proposal and got the last ring of the set, and she made me promise not to mention it until the right time. I wanted you to feel the love of your family, the legacy they’ve built, with something that connects you both.”

She brought her hand to her mouth, a gasp escaping her lips as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Pezzy… she would have loved this! This is so meaningful,” she said as her voice wavered, overwhelmed by the emotions surging within her.

Pezzy felt his heart swell, a gentle pride blooming in his chest. “I thought it would be the perfect way to keep her memory alive and weave it into our story. It’s not just your ring; it’s a symbol of the love that has surrounded you your whole life.”

In that moment, she closed the distance between them, leaning towards the screen with a look of reverence. “Thank you for honoring that part of my family. This makes it even more special.”

The chat was ablaze with hearts and warm messages, supportive comments echoing their joy. Friends and fans alike felt the weight of love in the air, honoring the bittersweet beauty of life, love, and the ties that bind us to those we hold dear.

“I can’t wait to tell everyone about it!” she said, her excitement blending with the bittersweet memory of her grandmother, creating a tapestry of emotions that wrapped around them both.

“Just think about it,” Pezzy teased lightly, “when we do our live wedding planning, I'll have to pull out all the stops to ensure we can tell that story properly!”

With laughter and shared dreams illuminating the room, Pezzy knew that their love story, now anchored with precious memories and familial connections, was just beginning to unfold. They were weaving a narrative together, rich and layered with every twist and turn of their lives, and all the love that had come before them.

#frouse #frog house #fanfic #twitch streamer x reader #youtuber x reader #clooless #elasticdroid #pezzy #grizzy #bigpuffer #smii7y #pezzy x y/n #pezzy fanfic #pezzy x reader #pezzy fanart #clooless fanfic #clooless x reader #clooless podcast

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vantechapters · 5 days ago

Text

shattered reverie | KTH & OC

In the dim, chaotic shadows of a Parisian bar, Yuna and Taehyung share a wild, impetuous encounter in a cramped bathroom, where desire and detachment blur together. Once it’s over, he walks away, leaving her to slip into the night, determined to erase the fleeting, anonymous moment from her memory.

Taehyung and Jungkook’s argument erupts into a storm of accusations. Neither man is willing to back down, nor are they willing to forget the heartache they’ve caused each other. After all, a breakup is never a pretty picture.

And one day Jimin’s phone buzzes with an unexpected call from his sister. She excitedly mentions a talented artist, whom she believes could be perfect for the group's creative projects.

They meet again.

And this is, unfortunately for everyone involved, not a cliché.

“What?” He scoffed, the mocking edge in his voice making her body tense. “Do you honestly think I’d remember you fondly? That fucking you meant anything to me? That I’d be going crazy, searching for you everywhere? I barely even came, for fuck’s sake. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you better end it now and leave me and the others alone. I couldn’t care less about trash like you.”

✧.* Pairing: Kim Taehyung x OC/Reader; Kim Taehyung x Jeon Jungkook

✧.* Warnings: +18; dark themes; explicit language; smut; taehyung is bissexual; jungkook is bissexual; idol au; former relationship; one night stands; enemies to friends to lovers; a very huge mess at all times.

✧.* Theme song: House of Cards by BTS.

"Inside a house made of cards we are Though we see the end, though we know that it’ll soon collapse A house made of cards- we, like fools, Though it’s an empty hope, stay like this a little more."

Prologue.

The bathroom space was small, stifling, the kind of place where time didn't seem to exist.

Faint bass notes from the music outside thudded against the walls, muffled yet persistent, like a pulse anchoring the chaos beyond the door.

Yuna leaned against the sink, her pulse quickening as she stared at herself in the cracked mirror, breath shallow.

The chaos of the night felt distant, like it belonged to someone else, until he walked in, the door shutting behind him with a soft thud.

She turned around and his eyes locked on hers instantly, a mixture of calm indifference and an intensity that made her heart race.

There was no greeting, no preamble—just the raw energy between them, electric and undeniable.

She knew what he wanted the moment he offered her a drink.

It wasn’t a look of flirtation—it was sharper, hungrier, a silent challenge that sent a thrill down her spine.

She hadn’t planned on acting on it, not until he pressed the drink into her hand, his fingers brushing hers, and she realised her body was already betraying her thoughts.

He knew what she wanted the moment she accepted it, signalling him to follow her a few minutes later.

He moved toward her without a word, his presence suffocating and magnetic. Before she could fully process it, his lips were on hers—hard and consuming, urgent and unapologetic.

His hands slid up her sides, finding the curve of her waist, then the nape of her neck. She kissed him back with equal fervour, her fingers fumbling with his shirt.

There was no hesitation, no awkwardness—just the heat of the moment swallowing them both whole.

His lips trailed down her neck, the sharp scrape of his teeth sending shivers down her spine.

Her breath hitched as his hands moved lower, tugging at the waistband of her skirt, his fingers grazing it. She gasped, pulling him closer, her hands automatically slipping beneath his waistband, craving more of him.

He didn’t falter, his movements practiced yet charged with urgency. His fingers gripped the fabric of her skirt, pulling it up slowly, methodically, but with a barely restrained impatience, as if time was slipping away.

Yuna let out a soft moan as his hands explored, his breath shallow against her exposed skin. She wanted more, needed it, and the longing in her intensified as his lips found her neck pulse point and his fingers traced patterns on her skin.

This wasn’t her—it had never been her—but tonight was different.

The stranger was compelling in a way she couldn’t explain, like a magnetic force she couldn’t resist. And yet, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, there was a flicker of recognition, an unshakable feeling that she’d seen him before, though she couldn’t place where.

It only made her reckless desire burn hotter, fuelled by the maddening pull of his presence and the need to lose herself in something—anything—that made her feel alive.

The man’s hands were steady as he turned Yuna around to face the mirror and the sink. She could see his gaze in the mirror that was dark, almost predatory, but there was something underneath it—something vulnerable, raw.

There was a dissonance between the desire they shared and the empty detachment that lingered in the air between them.

It was in the way he moved, the way he touched her.

She arched into him, urging him closer as their bodies collided in a rhythm that felt too desperate to be anything other than fleeting while they brushed their clothed parts against each other, her panties showing since the moment he had completely pushed her skirt up before he had turned her back to his front.

His fingers slid on her tights, tugging at her panties with a deliberate slowness that felt like a challenge, as if testing how far she could be pushed before she broke. Her legs parted in silent invitation, her nails digging into the sink as she lowered herself on it.

He finally lowered his pants and removed her panties and in a few seconds he was already slamming his cock into her. The first thrust drew a sharp gasp from her, and she bit her lip, her head falling down. He was rough.

He didn’t pause, didn’t give her a moment to catch her breath, his movements purposeful and unrelenting.

The rhythm was primal, desperate, each collision of their bodies pulling her further under his spell.

She could feel him—every inch, every pulse of him—moving with a rhythm that made her dizzy.

And she could see him.

The mirror offered her a hazy glimpse of him—the tension in his jaw, the way his hands gripped her hips like he couldn’t bear to let go. She felt his presence everywhere, the heat of his skin, the weight of his body pressing her down, the intoxicating scent of him filling her senses.

Black hair with sweat, the way he observed her back and ass, the slaps he left that echoed in the bathroom of the bar she probably wouldn’t go back ever again.

She arched her back, let her head fall once again and moaned a bit louder than she should have but it was incredible.

He was quite incredible.

But when she observed his expression in the mirror once again, she saw it.

The pained look.

He was hurting, like a wounded animal.

Someone had broken his heart.

He raised his gaze to the mirror, and their eyes locked.

The look in his eyes shifted—darker now, almost tortured. For a fleeting moment, she saw it again: the raw ache he couldn’t hide, the brokenness lurking beneath his hunger. It was there in the way his grip tightened, his pace quickened, like he was chasing something he couldn’t name.

She felt him harder, harsher, and tried to suppress her moans.

The sensation was overwhelming, her body trembling as he drove her higher and higher, his movements almost punishing her in their intensity. Her back arched once again as the heat between them reached its breaking point, her moans spilling freely now, mixing with his shallow, laboured breaths.

The release hit like a tidal wave, washing over them both in a rush of white-hot pleasure. Her body shuddered against his as she came.

And then it was over.

The bathroom was too quiet, the air cold against her flushed skin.

He pulled away first, his movements slow and measured, like someone piecing himself back together.

She stayed where she was, holding on to the sink, catching her breath as he adjusted his clothes, his face carefully blank once more.

In the mirror, their reflections met one last time. His gaze lingered, heavy with something she couldn’t quite place, before he turned and left, the door clicking softly behind him.

She stayed there a moment longer, the silence pressing in, the emptiness settling.

There were no introductions, no acknowledgment of what had just happened. Just the slow, deliberate movement of him walking out, leaving her to piece herself back together in the silence.

Yuna would never see him again.

And if she were being completely honest, that was perfectly fine.

After all, it’s dangerous to play with wounded animals.

Extremely dangerous.

And yet, some part of her couldn’t ignore the truth.

The most dangerous part of all wasn’t him—it was the way she’d let herself get pulled in.

(…)

Taehyung pushed open the door to his room, the soft click of the lock echoing in the otherwise quiet hallway.

The faint glow of the Eiffel Tower lit up the Paris skyline outside his window, but he barely glanced at it as he stepped inside, exhaustion tugging at his muscles.

The room wasn’t empty.

Jungkook was sitting on the edge of the bed, his posture stiff, his dark eyes flicking to him the moment he entered.

The tension in the air was instant, thick enough to choke on.

“You reek of sex.” Jungkook said bluntly, his voice low but cutting.

Taehyung froze, his jaw tightening before he turned to drop his jacket on the chair near the door. “What do you want?” His tone was sharp, almost weary. “If you’re here to lecture me, don’t bother.”

The younger one stood, his arms crossing over his chest. “Joon’s pissed. He thinks you’re trying to start a scandal. Do you even care about what you’re doing?”

The older one scoffed, running a hand through his messy, sweat-dampened hair. “Tell our beloved leader to mind his own business. And while you’re at it, you can leave too.”

Jungkook didn’t move.

“Do you think you can just screw around in public like that and no one will notice? You’re not a nobody.”

“Leave.”

“No.”

Taehyung’s gaze snapped to Jungkook, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “I said, leave.”

Jungkook took a step closer, his tone turning venomous.

“You’re such a bastard, you know that? You couldn’t even wait a day before running off to fuck someone, could you?”

Taehyung’s lips curled into a bitter smile, his laugh dry and humourless. “What I do is none of your business anymore, kookie.”

The words hit Jungkook like a punch. He tilted his head, his expression twisting with anger. “Fuck you.”

Taehyung chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll fuck—and fuck well. You don’t need to concern yourself with it.”

Jungkook’s face hardened, his fists clenching at his sides. “To go and screw someone the same day we broke up? You’re unbelievable.”

Taehyung’s eyes flashed, the sarcasm in his tone cutting deeper than any insult. “I wasn’t the one who wanted to break up. Or did you forget that little detail?”

They stood there, their faces inches apart, the tension between them crackling like a live wire.

Jungkook’s jaw worked as if he wanted to say something more, but instead, he turned on his heel, heading for the door. He paused for half a second, his shoulders rigid, before walking out and slamming the door behind him.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Taehyung sank onto the bed, his head dropping into his hands.

The ache in his chest was unbearable, a fresh wave of pain washing over him.

He’d thought his heart had already broken earlier that day, but now, it felt like it was shattering all over again.

He was wounded for life.

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tobbesdiscordkitten · 1 month ago

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How did Pamela manning, Adriana and barbie meet Gnr they’re so lucky

I’m glad you asked because I learned today that Pamela Manning was Barbi Von Greif’s ROOMMATE and they were the ones who were gonna make their own band called Rocket Queen.

Pamela Manning

I’ve also heard Barbi was a stripper, as well as Adriana Smith, so the three might’ve worked at the same strip club and got acquainted. It’s interesting how the universe works - you meet new people for a particular reason in order to achieve a certain destiny. Then once the band came along…the ladies were set in stone.

In 2014, Pamela did an interview and she discussed what her experience as a dance girl for GNR entailed while recounting her relationship with Izzy, and her friendship between Axl and Steven Adler:

“Well, I had been dancing with Guns N' Roses on stage even before Guns N' Roses. I came out in a cute outfit, it had guns on them, some cute cut-off jeans, and a cowboy hat. Axl had chaps where his butt would hang out the back. It was like playing house to me but we played rock star; it was all about music, how cool you can look. It also was a shock factor back in the 80's - anything to get attention.

If that meant being wild and crazy on stage, well, that is what you got! And, so, when I was on stage, I had a blast with the band; our energy was magic! We would feed off each others’ energy, yet we would all be in sync with each other. It was so automatic, the music was the main energy. You tap into that stream and you got Guns N’ Roses: that is what fed the audience, the energy that went with the band. After the show, we would talk about how the audience’s reaction was.

Pamela Manning and Axl Rose at the Whisky a Go Go (1986)

I am also a drummer, so Steven would teach me some drums, and we would move on to more creative stuff; we'd sit around and play some more music. Barbi Von Greif, who was my roommate at the time, we were in a band together for a short time. I was the drummer and she was the singer, and Barbi wanted to name the band Rocket Queen.

Pamela Manning with Steven Adler

Guns N’ Roses were a music inspiration to us; heck, we inspired each other. This is how we all met up; it was all about music, not hanging with the guys. I did wind up dating Izzy, but Barbi broke us up, not being a true friend to me, as she wanted him. One day he asked me to let him play with Barbi, and when I said no, well, you can guess the rest. That was the end of Izzy and I.

Axl has always been a true friend to me, telling me his deepest secrets and, yep, I have kept them today. I can't and will not talk about the deep secrets he told me. That is just not me. But wow, if you only knew...I am sure some would understand him a little better. People judge him, and I can understand why. He has not been the best example, but I think if Axl would stop bottling all the secrets, he could be a great spokesperson and could help many.

It was like with any band: sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll, but the drug thing…I never liked drugs or alcohol, so I can't relate in that department. But I had some good times.”

“I got branded (as a groupie) because I was wild and crazy on stage, and made my living working with rock bands as well. My interviews I agreed to be in were cut into pieces to make me sound like a groupie, like talking about being a cheerleader, and things like that. I have always been one to inspire, male or female. Rockstar or not, I love to inspire, to bring back hope, to help people get their creative juices flowing and that doesn't mean groupie juices…I had friends who were (groupies). I never hung around with them, but there were times where I would work with them. Some were mud wrestlers. Groupies were there, back in the '80s, for sure. It was hard because you become friends with them, and then they would try to snatch your man. And I really hated dealing with them. I’d guess groupies are the same today as yesterday. The only difference is that there is not an explosion of rockstars rising to the top like it was in the '80s.” - Pamela Manning

Not only was Pam a dancer for the band, she was a roadie who handed out flyers, did the men’s hair, makeup, and their wardrobe. Pamela still keeps in touch with both Axl and Steven.

#cine has spoketh #anon #axl rose #axl gnr #steven adler #steven gnr #guns n roses #guns n’ roses

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little-forest-goblin · 23 days ago

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Can you do a Five Hargreeves x reader? Like the reader acts like Willy Wonka (Timotheé Chalamet/ Johnny Depp version).

Reader randomly sings a song while fighting as a strategy to distract anyone. Making sweets for the family and coffee themed for Five. His creativity in sweets gets handy with weapons (also candy themed)

Of course! sorry this took me a while but i have a life outside of writing and life has been kicking my ass into the next year. Here you go dear reader ❤️

My Candy Girl

y/n was crazy to say the least. Five had never met a woman quite like her. She was his eccentric candy girl. Sweet as sugar but as odd as odd gets. He still remembers way back when he first met her.

It was a hot june day. The sun boiling outside. It was ridiculous. You could cook an egg on the sidewalk if you so desired. Five was in the academy working on some equations in a book to pass time. He didn’t exactly have anything to do at the moment so he was making himself feel like he had something to do.

Silence was disturbed when klaus came into academy living room where he just so happened to be. “Hello my loveable and definitely not grumpy brother” Five let out a huff and looked up only to be met with not only klaus with his obnoxious habits but also a little friend next to klaus. You. God were you pretty. It made his cheeks heat a little at the sight of you but he pushed it away afterall you guys only just saw each other.

You stood there with a lollipop between your lips and your curious eyes looking around the new environment. “Man klaus, you didn’t tell you were a trust fund baby.” she chuckled.

Klaus looked to you “Well my spicy little friend i dont think it matters” Klaus pinched your cheeks quit like how a grandma would. Five however was locked onto her he wouldnt admit it (atleast not right now) but you have him hooked already.

From that day on whenever you are around he made sure to look his best. He was always in his suit and put on his good aftershave and his best cologne. He was a super genius but around you his IQ was slashed to 62 just like that.

He began to notice how odd you were, not like that put him off though. You were always looking around your environment, spaced off into la la land. You’d say some of the most random things at random times. His favorite being that time you called diego dollar general batman.

Now it wasn’t just a cute name he gave you, candy girl, but it was there for a reason. You were a candy maker. You absolutely adored candy. Thee five hargreeves in love with a candy maker? A former temporal assassin? who woulda saw that coming? Infact candy was what really brought you and him closer together.

~Flashback~

You were in the kitchen of the academy. You currently dusting a flat pan full of small light brown squares with powdered sugar. That was until five came in

Five looked at you leaning against the counter. He curiously looked between her and the pan of squares. You were so focused you didn’t even notice him until he broke the silence “What are you making?”

you looked up at him. Your eyes wild from concentration and glee of making items. “Im making candy!”

he chuckled and rolled his eyes playfully “Well no shit but what kind of candy is it?”

You smiled and continued dusting the powdered sugar onto the tan treats. “These are coffee chews”

His heart almost leaped out his chest. did he hear correctly? “Did…did you say coffee chews?”

you looked up at him and nodded “Yep. Coffee chews. They’re for you.” You made them for him with him in mind. You noticed he likes coffee a lot and never seems to get a decent cup of it. So why not make him a decent coffee candy?

He was a little flustered though he didn’t wanna show it but his eyes gave him away. He looked away trying to hide himself behind a couple walls though a small bashful smile graced his lips.

His walls could not be put up or the damn gates to be closed cause in a second you gently but excitedly and quickly grabbed his jaw turning him back to you. You had picked up one of the sugary treats and put it in his hand. “Try it.”

his eyes widened his shock paralyzing him. Was he a little turned on? …maybe. Either way he did as you said and popped the treat into his mouth. He found that it was soft and sweet but it had a noticeably nice coffee flavor. huh…a decent cup of coffee for once. He noticed you didnt let go obviously hoping for an answer “Its good. Really good actually.”

Your cheeks warmed up into a blush and you smiled happily. grateful that the candy wasnt a flop. “Good!” she let go and went to the pan picked up the treats putting them in a blue metal tin in there own little filter and shut the lid she handed it to him “Here you are! A whole tin of them!”

he blushed hard he couldn’t put his walls up in time to stop it. “For me? They’re all for me?”

you nodded “Yes there for you! Didnt i say i made them for you?”

he gently took the tin “You did but i didnt think all of them were for me” he looked at the blue tin and back to you with practically adoring eyes.

“Well they are!”

five was smitten as he chewed and swallowed the rest of the coffee chew. This was probably what sealed the deal. He had to have you, right away.

It wasn’t just him that you made candy for. You made the whole family candy too. All of them had gotten that signature blue tin with whatever little treat she made inside for them all nicely put inside a white thin filter paper.

The family began to notice fives behavior whenever you were brought up or in the vicinity. They noticed that when you were brought up suddenly he was very interested in whatever conversation was happening and whenever you were in the room or the vicinity he was quickly straightening up and fixing his suit cuffs and jacket.

It was odd for them to see there brother all totally whipped for you but it was also quiet amusing for them, not so much him though.

One day five was sat on the couch reading some books he found to pass the time. The rest of the family was talking about god knows what when you where brought up

Luther smiled as he took one of the candies from the blue tin he received “Hey guys what candies did you receive anyway? I got this blue raspberry thing. I think y/n called them raspberry color bombs”

Diego looked at him confused as he played with one of his knives twirling it and doing his usual tricks “Raspberry color bomb? the hell kind of name is that?”

Luther was excited to show diego “Okay watch! watch!” Lither popped one of the hard candies into his mouth letting it dissolve when he then opened his mouth a few seconds later to show his entire mouth was blue. It wasn’t just the normal tongue being blue no, no it was EVERYTHING. Everything from his gums, to his teeth. It was bright blue raspberry.

diego went wide eyed “Woah you look like you ate a bucket of paint” he laughed at his own joke although it was light hearted fun

klaus chimed in. He was laid across the sofa with his feet kicking in the air gently “You look like how i imagine oral with an alien is like”

luther cringed at that along with the rest of the family.

“Ew, gross klaus.” allison chimed in her face twisted in mild disgust and a face of why…just why.

klaus tsk’d “Oh come on you cant tell me you guys dont think of it”

Ben spoke up “No i think thats just you klaus. You are the only one who has probably thought of blowing an alien”

Five was silent the whole time but he was zeroed in on the conversation waiting for it to change back to the topic he really wanted to hear about. He of course didnt escape viktors eyes.

“You have any input on this five?” viktor asked looking over at him

diego spoke up “Yeah, cupid, you got anything on your mind or is it filled with something else”

klaus looked over “Or someone else?” he said pointing around at everyone as if to say dont forget it could be a someone.

five was stupified for a minute. he was like a fish out of water just learning what the hell air was. “There is nothing on my mind! There is no one on my mind either”

Klaus pffted and looked over at five tilting his head back to look at him “Oh please ewe all see the goo goo eyes you give her!”

“Yeah your not exactly subtle about it” Allison chimed in

five quickly answered trying to cover his ass “Who could i POSSIBLY be thinking about? I have better things to do than daydream about some pe—“

he was cut right the hell off by viktor “Y/n L/n”

fives face went right into a hot blush. Damn them all.

diego began to laugh, luther was confused, allison was amused along with viktor, ben could care less, and klaus was acting like he won the lottery.

“Oooo i knew it! no wonder you start putting on the ritz when she is around. Mr big bad assassin is inlove~” klaus said triumphantly ans teasingly

At that point five wanted another apocalypse to happen and swallow him whole to leave this embarrassing conversation. How was this girl he knew making him a hot mess and breaking every wall he has tried to put up!?

It’s been some months since he and his family have known you (excluding klaus cause he has known you longer) He keeps falling head over heels for you. A blushing fool is what he becomes.

One day on the news everybody hears of this house that has burnt to the ground. A few people where gathered watching it including five.

Diego turned to the kitchen where klaus was “Hey you might wanna come take a look at this. Theres this hellish fire on tv”

klaus sighed and came over with a empty glass that he was gonna pour something into “Oh goodie let me see whats the next ghost im gonna have to be forced to listen to” klaus stopped when he saw the house “Wait that looks familiar

luther looks to klaus who actually seems to be concentrating on the tv “Klaus…did you know who lives there?”

klaus took a minute until he gasped “Oh…oh no…”

diego couldnt take the silence after “what?! what?! Klaus did you know who lived there?”

klaus turned to them “Thats y/ns house!”

Fives world screeched to the finest fucking halts. Y/ns house? hold on as in y/n l/n’s house? The one that had his heart melting all the time?

The family was shocked. What the actual fuck?

that night fives world fucking crashed. How could it be normal? The girl he loved died in a fire! life was a heartless bitch. He spent the day drinking trying to numb the pain as his heart clenched. his heart fucked and his suit even more fucked.

The rest of the day the family tried to get klaus to contact you but he couldnt do it! the family accused him of being high but klaus swore up and down that he hadnt touched a thing. Diego was trying to play hero again claiming that you were probably murdered and practically had to be restrained. He was only convinced when they said wait atleast until evidence of foul play is found.

Later that night they all had to go to bed eventually. Though at some point during the night everyone heard a noise in the kitchen. They all inevitably went down there to check it out. When they got there they all flipped on the lights ready to attack but who they found was…you?

wait…YOU?!

Diego pushed to the front bewildered “Wait a minute your supposed to be dead?!”

luther was so confused “Yeah we saw your house on fire on the news. How are you still here?”

klaus chimed in “It told you gusy i wasnt high at the time! I told you i couldnt reach them!”

you looked at them confused. You were casually sat on the island counter eating a fluffernutter sandwich. “Im supposed to be dead?”

five sloppily teleported to the kitchen. By now he had sobered up but was left with a big fuck ass headache “What the hell are you idiots going on abou—“ he paused upon seeing you suddenly everything else didnt matter. He saw you and his heart beat so fast. Holy shit your alive.

your eyes locked with his and you smiled and waved “Hey five! Guess what these guys thought i was dead!”

he didnt say anything he just came to you and pulled you into the biggest hug he has ever actually gave someone. His family was right there be damned cause he needed you to anchor him. “I thought you died”

you were shocked when he pulled you to him but you softened “Its gonna take a lot more than that to kill me”

Klaus chimed in “Actually my fine furry friend i think that would’ve actually killed you. Its the fiery flames of doom so…”

five sighed and looked up glaring at klaus before letting go of you snd stepping back feeling flustered.

Viktor butted i. “Wait wait wait i dont mean to ruin everyone’s celebration that they’re actually alive but how exactly did your house burn down?”

you looked to viktor “Oh i was boiling up sugar to make candy when i remember i left my new food dye i just bought on the kitchen table so i went to grab that and i guess i left the oven mitt to close cause next thing i knew my oven mitt was on fire along with my pot of sugar. i tried putting it out but it just didnt work and eventually more was on fire and after that i dont really know”

diego was listening in carefully “I dont like this something isnt right about this.”

you shrugged and sat back up on the counter and began eating her sandwich again.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Over the next few days five spent his time with you. He was so relieved you were alive. He stayed with you at all times.

He even stayed for your candy making adventures, most of the time spectating. He did occasionally help with small tasks like getting food dye or ingredients. He quite enjoyed watching as you made candy. He got to watch as someones skills progressed as time went on. It was fascinating.

Today you had been working on an important project. Made from candy and other items. It was a lolli dagger. A beautiful dagger made from lollipop candy. its dagger blade made entirely of pink hard candy with a wood handle to help get a grip.

five was amazed by it. “Wow. You did it”

you were amazed as you held it flipping it to be held facing down and facing up. “I did…its beautiful and perfect”

five watched with a small smile “May i try it?”

you looked to him and nodded “Here.” you handed it over into his hand.

He held it in his hand “Wow this is lightweight as well. Will the candy hold up?”

you nodded eagerly “Of course! its meant to hold up for a long time! i- oh!” you got nicked by the blade. Your finger was bleeding. Fives eyes widened “Oh my god im so sorry. I did not mean to do that”

you shook your head “i-its alright you didnt mean too. I think it was me that brought my hand to close!”

He shook his head and gently led you to sit down at the table to fix your cut. He cleaned it and bandaged it. Your eyes were looking up at him. His eyes eventually found yours and soon you were both aware of how close you were to eachother. Lips so close your breathes mixed.

[Meanwhile]

Diego wouldnt let go of that feeling that something wasnt right with the fire. He had went to your burnt house to scrounge around for clues.

He had come upon what was the area of the kitchen. He could tell by the dishes glassware everywhere that this was the kitchen area. He looked around. There was a almost perfectly intact wall that seemed to not touch much of any fire. On that wall was a window. It had a hole in the glass that looked like something was thrown through more than pressure from the heat of fire were to break it. It was like someone threw something through it.

He knew it.

[Away from meanwhile]

Five leaned into you “Did you know that i love you? I cant hold it in anymore. I have to tell you”

you smiled “No…i dont pay attention enough to notice sometimes.”

five chuckled as he leaned in closer “Do you love me too?”

you nodded and closed your eyes leaning in closer. You and his lips were so close to touching when suddenly through the window a flaming bottle was thrown startling you too away from eachother.

Before you could react the bottle had shattered and spread fire. Five grabbed you pulling you away from the flames. “What the fuck!?”

outside the window was a hooded figure. the hooded figure was gonna make a run for it when five took you and blinked to where the guy was tackling him. This caused a struggle. The hooded figure struggled rolling on the ground with him trying to choke eachother out until they got on there feet and started properly fighting. Fists and kicks being delivered.

At some point the figure got five pinned to the ground. You had no clue what to do! you were a candy maker for christs sake not a fighter! So you did what the first thing came to mind.

…

you began to sing to distract the guy. really loudly.

“TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR!! HOW I WONDER WHAT YOU ARE!!!”

everyone stopped and looked at you even five

the masked figure stopped and looked at you. Even though he was hooded you could feel confusion drip off him.

at that diego came running around the corner. He came around “IVE GOT YOU, GUYS!” diego direct kick right in the hooded figures jaw. This caused the figure to get kicked right off five who went ahead and caught his breath.

Out of the house came the family except for luther who was using the fire extinguisher to put out the fire before it got bad.

you saw you had the dagger with you. you went wide eyed and looked to diego “DIEGO! CATCH!”

diego looked to you just as you threw the candy dagger. His powers brought the dagger to him and he caught it and he began to fight the figure. Kicking dodging and fighting until diego got a couple good slashes at the figure and it sent the guy collapsing

~Timeskip~

the police had been called. It ended up being that the hooded figure was an arsonist the police had been trying to catch for a while now.

the family was talking to the officer or talking amongst themselves as a firefighter went in to check the surrounding area.

Five in the meantime after getting a wound on his head checked out by the ambulance that was taking the arsonist. Once done he looked around until he saw you. You ended up looking his way and he made a break for it and when he got to you his lips were on yours.

your arms snaked around his neck. his holding your face. When he pulled back he gave a few more softer kisses which you gladly reciprocated. “You saved my life”

you looked at him “Not quite diego did”

he chuckled “Yes but if you hadn’t distracted him i would’ve been choked out and blue”

you smiled softly kissing him a few more separate times which he reciprocated.

Five looked at you “Y/n i know this is the worst time but y/n will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man alive and be my girlfriend”

your heart thumped harder for him than it has before. “Yes…yes i will, five” he celebrated internally before kissing you again.

———————————————————————

Hey hey! sorry i didnt answer this one right away its been sitting here collecting dust but you know what its time to get out the box my little friend! i love you be safe out there people! 💋😘 (P.S sorry if it isnt good i tried to replicate what you asked but its not to great. I hope you can forgive me 😔)

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #tua #number five #umbrella acedmy #tua s4 #tua season 4 #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #five hargreaves x reader #number five x you #five hargreeves fanfic #number five x reader #tua five

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inactivewattpadauthor · 9 months ago

Text

Erron Black x Reader: Overwatch-Coded

~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Is that the last of it?" Erron Black's muffled voice asks. Kabal had just loaded up the possible last bag of gold and goods in the truck. He wants to be sure none of Kano's men left even a nugget of gold down the ransacked mine.

"Sure is. I already ran through the damn shaft twice." Kabal sharply replies. "We should get the hell out of here before trouble comes. Start telling them to wrap it up and go to the mark-"

A loud noise boomed nearby, cutting the fast man off. Speaking of the devil, huh? Everyone went silent, focused on the direction of the racket. Erron takes his step forward, nonchalantly prepared to light anything up if they dare to intervene the heist.

"Hurry up and get out of here! If they don't kill us and take our score, Kano surely will!" Kabal orders the driver of the storage truck to leave. Kabal steps up to where Black is, prepared to hold off whoever was coming. He readies his hooks. In the back, men shout and prepared guns and got to cover quick, ready to partake in a possible fire.

Showing up a little too late, you and your gang made quite the entrance. Though, you were already irritated that your score as just drove off. Putting that aside, your eyes looked at the competition, then you saw him. Ditto timing with him.

"Erron."

"Y/n."

"You know that chick?" Kabal looks at the cowboy, whom gaze was deeply focused on yours with some sort of visible tension.

"Y/n is a... former partner, a kindly way to put it." The gunslinger rests his hand on his revolver, eyes narrowed at you, not cutting off your eye contact. "Lassie is a wild one, so stay sharp on what she does."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that, slinging your beloved rifle over your shoulder. "That's rich coming from you, Black. Because if I remember correctly, I'm the one not interested in drinking yer' blood." You would never get over that fact. After leaving you, came some vampire woman, then a blood mage. As much blood as you spilled, you never consumed it like those two broads did, but it became clear Erron had a type, and you never had a chance to begin with.

Erron groaned and rolled his eyes. "Women like bringin' up stuff in the past a lot, don't they?"(Author is female fyi.)

Offended, you aimed your rifle at him, his side getting more cautious, which makes your side cautious as well, tension rising anxiously. "Watch yer' mouth, cowboy! Or I'll jam my gun so far up your ass, you'll be spittin' bullets for a hot minute!"

The threat definitely made Kabal grimaced, but Erron was completely used to the creative threats you spewed. "You haven't changed a bit, darling."

"I would say the same for you, but I guess that's what happens when you deal with some weird ass sorcerer. Ain't that right, cheater?!" You spat, flicking him off.

"How many times do I oughta tell you, Y/n? It ain't cheatin' if I left you prior!" Black states. He does recall trying to let you down as gently as possible, but you were a little too crazy in the head to take the breakup well. Poor man almost became Erron Blackeye.

"Forget about all that. I believe one of your men drove off with my score!" You lowly growled. "Be a doll and tell him to bring it back so no one has to die." Cooing with condescension, you raised a hand to gesture for your squad to get ready for a fight. Being truthful to yourself, whether you get the gold or not, someone was getting hurt today just for the sake of it. Maybe definitely the dickhead of your ex-boyfriend. But you wanted to be the one that hurts him.

"Kabal," Erron speaks lowly just for the fellow kombatant to hear. "Take out whoever from that side, but leave the lady to me." Kabal nodded. He wouldn't want to get in the way of a lover's quarrel. "Not possible, Y/n." Erron speaks up to you. "He's already gone back to the Black Dragon camp as far as I know. And you sure as hell ain't gonna follow him."

"Heh, have it your way then." You coldly delivered.

Atlas, the showdown is arriving. Everyone was dead silent and anxious. Only the sound of the wind and the swivel of the typical tumbleweed between rivals roll by. And when the sun is blazing just above, you made the first fire at Black. All hell has broken loose.

The old gunslinger was quick enough to jump out the way and start firing back. Both sides fired at each other, Kabal dashes around, avoiding getting shot and looking for a lacking target to pick off. But you and Erron were too focused on each other, ignoring everyone else.

Realizing his uncovered position, Erron gets back up and scrambles off to try and get some cover, but you jumped to his level, aiming your rifle and completely missing your shots. You growled and chased after him, making sure to dodge any bullets he fires back at you. He gets to cover shortly, and you had to reload, growling as you take the time to. "Give it up, Black! I ain't leaving until your riddled with more holes a trypophobe would dream of!"

Erron makes sure to duck and hold his hat on tight as you fire at his shield of cover. "This really isn't necessary, ya know?" His voice is drowned out from the background barrage of gunfire. Conveniently, he spots a belt of flashbangs at his foot, and he knew this was a game changer.

"Look on the bright side. No women, whether it be a normal girl, or some ugly beast you hooked up with, will never have to deal with yer ass again!" You exclaimed eagerly, readying your rifle and taking steps forward.

"Y'know. I just might look at the bright side, just like you're about to!" What you saw was a bunch of flashbangs hurled up in the air towards you. By the time you realized what they really were, it was too late.

"OH SHI-" Everything was white, fading black as the ringing in your ears were treacherous. You were knocked out.

...

"So what do you want to do with her? Someone like her definitely has a juicy bounty on her head." Kabal watches the tired cowboy lift you carefully on the back of the horse, making sure your wrists and ankles were tied securely.

"She's stayin at a tavern." Erron decides with no debate. Kabal questions it though.

"Then what? A crazy chick like her will definitely come back after she realizes her whole crew is gone. Most anyways. Unless you want someone at the tavern to take her out-"

"Nah, I don't want anything to happen with her. She will be safe at the tavern." The cowboy gives a side glare at the speedy male, hinting his seriousness on it.

Kabal shrugs. "Whatever. It's your woman."

eHe walks off and Erron focuses back on you. "Gosh, I miss you and yer wildness." He searches your person, and finds a folded up, ruined picture. It was of you and him happy together in the old days. He smiles under his mask and tucks the photo in his pocket for himself. Next, he slaps the horse for it to take off with you, watching you become distant. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

#mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk imagine #mortal kombat imagines #mk headcanons #erron black #erron black x reader #kabal #mortal kombat headcanons #goddesswritings

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 2 years ago

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What are the biggest fears of the townspeople in Stardew Valley?

Ok, this is a very interesting question. I tried to take into account the canonical fears of people (the same Abigail and Harvey), as they have dialogues that reveal their fears. Thanks for the ask, dear anon, and enjoy!

Warning: there are references to various phobias as well as sad and unpleasant moments. There is no detailed description but still it is worth warning, it may be unpleasant for someone to read.

Rats. Haley is terribly afraid of rats. Huge and scary rodents almost the size of Haley's handbag ... Eeeeeeep, gross!

To be buried alive in a pile of stones in the mines, to die of starvation or wounds, so that later your soul wanders through these very mines like a damned spirit... For Marlon, this is probably the worst fate that he would not wish even an enemy.

Acrophobia made it impossible for Harvey to follow his dream of becoming a pilot, and to this day he has to face problems due to his fear of heights.

Kent fears that the war with the Gotoro Empire will knock on the door of Stardew Valley, the home of his family and friends.

For Shane, the worst thing is if something happens to his dearest niece. Given that they live close to the forest where wolves and bears live...

Clowns... Penny stays away from the man with the clown make-up at every Stardew Valley Fair.

No matter how much Clint grumbles about his work as a blacksmith and about Pelican Town residents, his biggest fear is being alone. Especially dying alone.

The mere thought of going to the doctor brings panic to poor Vincent's face. And if he needs to get a flu shot, then all the glass and windows will crack from loud crying.

Needles. Bummer, why does Sam need to take medicine not in the form of bitter pills, but as an injection? Of course, he's not as scared as his younger brother, but his mom said that Sam cried a lot louder at the doctor's appointment when he was a child.

Poor Jas is terrified of the dark and won't be able to sleep in her room without her nightlight and plush bunny.

Every day, the Wizard needs to check the seal on his wife's hut, for he is afraid that she, in a fit of revenge, will still be able to unleash her wrath on the innocent inhabitants of Stardew Valley. If this happens, he will never forgive himself.

Sebastian has always loved watching the sea, but swimming in the sea - no thanks. One unpleasant incident in childhood, in which he almost drowned in sea water, discourages the desire to swim even in adulthood.

A huge crowd of people is what Leah fears the most, because she knows many true stories when an uncontrollable crowd in a panic can accidentally knock a person to the ground and trample.

Once Pierre visited an exhibition of vintage dolls in Zuzu city with his wife and said to himself: never again. Why dolls? He himself cannot answer.

Snakes for Marnie. And it doesn't matter if they're poisonous or not. Just the sight of a snake makes her break out in a cold sweat.

Abigail is a brave girl, but spiders have always been her weakness. And the fact that there are monster spiders in the mines... Brrr!

No one argues that good-natured Emily loves animals very much, but the sight of a huge predator like a bear or a pack of wolves causes her only piercing fear. And no wonder, these are wild animals.

For Jodi, it's the fear of food poisoning. An even greater fear is that you will be poisoned by your own cooked food. Even more - if her husband and sons were poisoned at the same time. She always checks five times to see if there are any accidental insects or something else in the dough or in the soup.

Who would have thought that Elliott has signs of lyssophobia. Although he is a very creative and philosophical person, among such people there are often individuals who are afraid to go crazy.

More than once or twice Demetrius refused Sebastian and Mary to have a puppy in the house. And this is not because he is harmful, but because he is terribly afraid of them (the dogs, not the kids).

George is afraid of what is inevitable and, sooner or later, will come to everyone without exception - old age.

It's not for nothing that Robin scolds her husband strongly when he almost set a fire in their house due to an unsuccessful experiment - the prospect of being burned alive in an inexorable flame in his own house scares the town carpenter the most. She treated the wood of their house for the sake of seriousness to minimize the possibility of a fire.

Maru can't stand honey, and that's because honey is the sweet nectar from honeycombs, one of the triggers of her trypophobia.

Sea sirens strike terror into the heart of every sailor, and Willy is no exception. An insidious angelic voice that cannot be resisted will pull you and your ship to the bottom, to be eaten by fish. Some mermaids are kind, but the old sea wolf knows what these sea demons can be.

There is no greater nightmare for Alex than the return of his biological father to the Pelican Town.

Somehow, I got the feeling that Lewis has signs of technophobia. All these gadgets, computers and newfangled smartphones cause him irritation, and then fear when he is forced to use one of them.

Poor Evelyn's heart was broken when she buried her daughter, and she fears more than anything that she will have to bury her grandson too... No mother/grandmother should bury their precious children.

The fear of tall objects, buildings, statues is one of the reasons why Gus decided to settle in a calm Valley, and not work as a cook in a huge metropolis.

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hitomisuzuya · 2 years ago

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Very jealous reader x Scara/Wanderer, that's it. Let your imagination go wild!!❤

Scaramouche x jealous!fem! reader. Smutty in a foreplay type of way. Scara acting unhinged because he has a God Complex. Set before the final Act of Sumeru Archon Quest. Scara's mech mentioned being used for brat taming purposes.

a/n: Hello! Thank you for being so patient. I originally was going to save this one to write before I open my requests again tomorrow. I'm more used to writing Jealous Scara. I got a little creative.

A volley of emotions were threatening to boil over inside Scaramouche as he stood there, glaring at you, occasionally tapping his foot on the ground to emphasize his annoyance with you.

He'd been content to wait for you to to finish with your bratty jealous fit. Until he sensed a rare switch flip on inside of you. You'd be ranting about Haypasia, quivering with jealousy.

You heard him growl impatiently. Maybe to egg you on?

"Don't make that noise at me, Scara! It drives me crazy how she obviously simps hard for you. Especially when she connected with you during her stupid training! I'll bet she thought it was fate or some bullshit like that! All she does is sleep now, anyways. She is useless to you already!"

"Are you finished with your pathetic jealousy yet?" More egging on. He was purposely fanning the flames of your jealousy. He was destined to serve as Sumeru's new God. And you would serve him standing by his side in all the ways you'd promised you would.

Time for one last comment, one that he didn't mean. It was only a means to an end so he could put you in your place in his own way to reassure you that you had nothing to worry about. In fact, you were making him feel even more crazy about you. "Well, she is my first follower." Scaramouche could tell your jealousy was starting to overwhelm you.

He could sense it coming. His eyes trained on every twitch your body made. You unclenched your fists and put your hand against your forehead to center yourself for a moment before you spoke.

Gotcha. He'd broken through your defenses easily. He knew it wouldn't take much for you to drop your guard.

Remember this man was capable of showing love and affection in twisted ways.

Putting his hands on your hips, Scaramouche backed you up so that you were against the leg of his mech. He smacked a hand down next to your head, his lips hovering over yours, his hand dipping down to rub and tease between your legs outside your pants.

He bit your lip, smirking in a dark way that sent a shiver up your spine. Moving his other hand down to feel what he wanted to feel most: the sound of your heart beat pounding in your chest.

Tilting his head down, he hovered his ear over your heartbeat, nuzzling his head against your chest, increasing the probing and rubbing of his fingers when you started to grind against his fingers.

"I know you can hear your heart beat," he murmured, "Don't forget, that belongs to me even though it beats in your chest."

"Scara, I.." you stammered, feeling your cheeks flush.

"Shut up and listen to me before I drag you inside that robot, strip you and put you in your place for acting like such a brat," his voice was husky, "I don't give a shit about Haypasia. I'll kill her for you right now if that's what you want. I was your God first. I always was. You'd do well to remember that."

He laughed darkly, "And to think I could sense that you wanted to top me. You were staring my at neck like you wanted to mark your dominance over me, practically frothing at the mouth. It was pathetic. That's my job to do to you."

#genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you

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zapreportsblog · 1 year ago

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yandere(ish?) aro x whimsical (and probably fucking crazy) gn reader !

so gn reader has the power to induce hallucinations that can sometimes cause physical pain ! They can be used as distractions, cause the target to go insane from the wild sensations, or even cause the target’s mind to collapse permanently ! gn reader is kind of like mad hatter (idk what im saying as well) LIKE— they're whimsical, may or may not be crazy, spontaneous, creative, nd eccentric ! (just searched this on google😭😭) gn reader REALLY likes bullying teasing Caius a lot ! and they're kinda scary when provoked !

hope you have a great day mwa mwa chup chup ;p

❝here for a good time not a long time❞

✭ pairing : yandere aro x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) just happened to be a batshit crazy human turnt vampire, who also happened to be the mate of aro. Now if you thought he was bad get a load of her, she definitely gives this man a run for his money

✭ authors note : Ayo get a load of that picture of my man aro 👁️👅👁️ he looking real cute ain’t he ayyyyyye

✭ twilight masterlist 2

In the heart of Volterra, where shadows clung to ancient stone and the night whispered secrets, Aro ruled as the immortal leader of the Volturi. The centuries had molded him into a creature of unparalleled power and intrigue. Yet, even among vampires, there were mysteries that still eluded him.

Aro's existence had become a monotonous cycle of enforcing laws, observing the immortal world from the shadows, and seeking out gifted individuals to join his coven. While his life was filled with grandeur and luxury, there was an underlying sense of restlessness. Aro craved something more, something elusive that had remained beyond his grasp for centuries.

That elusive something came in a form he least expected—a whirlwind of whimsy and chaos that descended upon Volterra one fateful night.

(Y/N), a gender-neutral individual with a personality as unpredictable as a storm, had always been considered eccentric by human standards. They reveled in the absurd, relishing in the madcap dance of life, and were known to perform bizarre acts on a whim. To say they were 'bat shit crazy' was an understatement, for they seemed to have an uncanny ability to turn even the dullest moments into a carnival of chaos.

Aro first encountered (Y/N) during a late-night stroll through the dimly lit streets of Volterra. Their laughter echoed through the cobblestone alleys, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame. (Y/N) twirled in the moonlight, their laughter infectious and their movements as graceful as they were wild.

Aro watched in fascination as (Y/N) performed acrobatic feats, juggling fruit with astounding precision, and turning ordinary objects into whimsical props. The absurdity of it all left Aro intrigued and utterly captivated. He had seen many things in his long life, but nothing quite like this.

It wasn't until (Y/N) crashed headlong into Aro's path that the whirlwind finally subsided. They looked up at him, their eyes wide with surprise, and grinned from ear to ear. "Well, hello there, mysterious stranger! Fancy a dance with chaos?"

Aro, usually composed and reserved, found himself at a loss for words. His cold, calculating demeanor momentarily shattered by the sheer audacity of this stranger. In that chaotic moment, as (Y/N) continued to babble and prance about, Aro's senses were flooded with an overwhelming revelation—a connection so profound that it sent shivers down his immortal spine.

(Y/N) was their mate.

Unable to contain his newfound excitement, Aro wasted no time in turning them. He leaned in, his eyes locked onto theirs, and sank his teeth into (Y/N)'s flesh. As darkness enveloped them, Aro couldn't help but marvel at the unpredictability of fate.

When (Y/N) woke as a vampire, they retained their whimsical personality, which now took on an otherworldly charm. Their laughter echoed through the Volturi castle, enchanting those who heard it. But it was their unique gift that truly set them apart.

With a mere thought, (Y/N) could induce hallucinations that ranged from delightful illusions to nightmarish phantasms. Their powers could cause physical pain, plunge a victim into madness, or even shatter a mind permanently. Aro saw immense potential in (Y/N)'s abilities, especially when Jane or Alec were unavailable to handle delicate situations.

Despite their penchant for calling Aro mean names in their peculiar brand of love language and engaging in a cruel form of teasing, (Y/N) had an undeniable affection for their mate. Their love was expressed through a blend of mockery and tender physical touches that left Aro both bewildered and strangely enchanted.

The bond between Aro and (Y/N) was a dance of opposites, an immortal saga that defied logic and embraced the whimsy of eternity. Little did they know that their union would soon become a cornerstone of the Volturi's power, adding a touch of chaos to the immortality that had grown all too predictable.

The sunless day in Volterra began as any other, with the members of the Volturi going about their immortal routines. Aro and his mate, (Y/N), had been inseparable since their transformation. Their whimsical nature continued to perplex and amuse the ancient vampire coven, but none more so than Caius.

Caius, the stoic and severe leader of the Volturi, had always been known for his impeccable fashion sense, stern countenance, and an icy demeanor that could chill the fieriest of tempers. Yet, his refined sensibilities were the perfect target for (Y/N)'s relentless teasing.

(Y/N) had taken it upon themselves to follow Caius around that particular day, a mischievous glint in their eye. They commented on his fashion choices with unrestrained glee. "Oh, Caius," they exclaimed, "I must say, that cloak does absolutely nothing for your complexion. Have you considered trying a different color?"

Caius, his patience wearing thin, merely gave (Y/N) a withering glare and continued on his way. But they weren't finished. They moved on to his hair, commenting, "Your hair, darling, it's positively stuck in the last century. Have you ever heard of a haircut?"

Caius clenched his jaw, determined not to let (Y/N)'s words get under his skin. They persisted, directing their whimsical torment at his face. "You know," they mused, "I can't decide if your expression is perpetually grumpy or if you've just forgotten how to smile."

His patience was wearing thin, but Caius endured. (Y/N), however, was far from done. They dropped their gaze to Caius's shoes, which were, in their opinion, the pinnacle of mockery material. "(Y/N)" they declared, "I wouldn't be caught dead in those things."

Caius finally reached his breaking point. He turned on (Y/N), his eyes blazing with an anger that rarely saw the light of day. "Enough!" he thundered, his voice echoing through the stone corridors of the Volturi castle. "Aro, come and get your insufferable mate!"

Aro, ever the picture of calm and intrigue, appeared in a flash, his crimson eyes locking onto Caius's furious gaze. "What seems to be the matter, dear Caius?" he inquired, his tone dripping with amusement.

Caius seethed, pointing a finger at (Y/N). "Your mate," he practically hissed, "has been tormenting me all day! I can't take it anymore."

Aro's lips curled into a knowing smile, and he turned his attention to (Y/N). "My love," he said, his voice laced with faux sympathy, "have you been bothering Caius?"

(Y/N) looked positively delighted, as if their mission had been accomplished. They nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes, Aro! But don't worry, it was all in good fun."

Aro chuckled, then turned to Caius. "There you have it, dear Caius. (Y/N) was just having a bit of fun. You shouldn't take it so seriously."

Caius gritted his teeth, feeling thoroughly defeated. "This is insufferable," he muttered before turning and stalking away.

As Aro and (Y/N) watched Caius's retreating form, (Y/N) couldn't resist one final taunt. "Bye-bye, Caius, you old bitch!" they called after him, and Aro burst into laughter.

Caius's furious footsteps echoed down the hall as he disappeared from sight, leaving Aro and (Y/N) to revel in their whimsical torment. Their love was a peculiar one, built on mockery and affection, but it was a love that brought a touch of madness and laughter to the immortality of the Volturi.

As Bella and Alice found themselves in the intimidating presence of the Volturi kings, Aro, Marcus, and Caius, they couldn't help but feel a shiver of apprehension. The grandeur and power exuded by the ancient vampires was overwhelming, and they stood there hesitantly, unsure of what to expect.

The atmosphere was tense, and the kings regarded the newcomers with a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny. Just as the silence threatened to become unbearable, an unexpected figure sauntered into the room, breaking the ice in the most unconventional way.

It was (Y/N), Aro's unpredictable mate. They entered the room with an exaggerated sigh and a dramatic eye roll, clearly unimpressed. "Felix and Demetri are no fun at all," they declared, their voice carrying a petulant tone. "I tried to play Uno with those two boomers, and they couldn't keep up!"

Aro, his expression a mixture of amusement and affection, couldn't help but smile as he watched (Y/N) complain about the lack of entertainment. He opened his arms, welcoming them with a warm embrace.

(Y/N), never one to resist the embrace of their beloved mate, crawled into Aro's lap, pouting exaggeratedly. "Nobody's fun around here," they mumbled, as if the weight of the world rested on their shoulders.

(Y/N) couldn't help but chime in, a mischievous glint in their eye. "Oh, I didn’t know we had guest! Pleasure to meet you. Don't mind Caius; he's just a grumpy old vampire."

Caius raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by (Y/N)'s brazenness. "I beg your pardon?"

(Y/N) simply shrugged and continued to pout in Aro's lap. "Well, it's true. Your face looks perpetually grumpy. No offense. Actually no, take great offense to that you old hag!”

Aro couldn't suppress a snort of laughter at the unexpected turn of events. He patted (Y/N)'s head fondly, knowing that their unpredictable nature was one of the many things he cherished about them.

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