#or now add him pantless

[artcallednaturalviews]

Putin now making changes for history

In school kid text books

Does it include

Shirtless horseback rider

Oh now I’m loving history again

Does it please include videos ?

Why isn’t those eyes two close together shirtless pantless and in crotch less panties too, give me sumtin’ to stroke my ____ to

Or

Of thee apartments, children centers, those Putin strike targets of Ukraine

It’s a playground

Fuck people think. Back

Recess is over

[cobwebbedcat]

Slutweed 

MINORS DNI 

Warnings: top dom(ish) amab gn reader, sub bottom trans male Mammon, puppy play, piss!, weed/drug use, anal, daddy kink, light breeding kink, mams goes nonverbal for a hot sec 

Terms used for mammon: tits, chest, pussy, cunt, clit, reader talks about his womb 

"I have'ta pee."  

"Okay? Go then?" You're not sure what the big deal is, or why Mammon is sharing this information with you.  

If you were sober you’d catch the underlying attempt at an invitation that seeps through his tone, if you were sober you’d actually witness the way he batted his eyelashes at you while he said it. You’re not sober, but you’re not as far gone as he is. Just gone enough to be thoroughly entertained and entranced with Mammon’s hand. His brows furrow at your response.  

"Yeah okay,” he huffs, yanking his hand away from you and getting out of the bed. He hesitates, “s’not like I want you there, or anything, but if you wanna come,” he pauses for a definitive moment, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, “if you wanna come, you can.” Now that he’s better verbalized that he so obviously wants you to join him—despite his claims not to—you catch his drift. You’ll never give up the chance to watch him piss.  

"Cute," you hum, and hoist yourself out of the bed and take his hand in yours once again. The two of you walk to the bathroom connected to his room, and sooner than later he's standing in front of the toilet. He finally lets go of your hand in favor of shimmying out of his sweatpants. You watch, confusion slowly building as he kicks his pants fully off and stands in front of the toilet.  

"Aren't you going to sit?" You finally ask, and Mammon blinks before laughing. 

"Fuck. Forgot I don't have a dick," he explains. You bark out a laugh, and Mammon flushes, beginning to pout now that you’re laughing along with him. 

"I mean,” you recover your composure much quicker than you’d thought was possible for you right now, “there is a way for you to piss standing up.” 

Mammon squints at you, trying to figure out what you’re insinuating. You can practically hear him thinking; just when you’re about to tell him exactly what you mean, his eyes widen and he licks his lips.  

"Yeah," he breathes your name, "please, I wanna," and he doesn't even have to beg, but it sure does add to the warmth that’s been slowly growing in your loins ever since Mammon invited you to the bathroom with him.  

You lead a pantless, very excited Mammon back to his room, and take out the pee pad you have. Considering how things normally play out when he uses the pee pad, you pocket some lube for good measure.  

You set it up on the floor for him and Mammon's breathing quickens as he eagerly stands atop it.  

He worldlessly reaches out to hold your hand, and you let him take it.  

"Gonna pee here for me, little puppy?" You ask softly. Mammon whines at your words, again shifting from leg to leg, out of eagerness or a full bladder you can't tell.  

It only takes a moment and then he starts to relieve himself, completely wetting his inner thighs as a puddle forms beneath him. Mammon looks down, watching himself with glazed over eyes. Your cock twitches in your pants, your thoughts racing with imagining eating him out after this, or making him sit in his mess.  

Mammon eventually steps his legs open and reaches down with his free hand, spreading his pussy open so his stream flows uninterrupted onto the pad.  

Letting go of his hand, you step behind him, holding onto his hips and rubbing your cock against his ass as you watch over his shoulder. Mammon's legs shake a bit, and then he's grinding back against you as his stream dies down.  

“Want me to fuck you?” you ask softly, bringing your hands from his hips to his chest, squeezing his tits and rolling his slowly hardening nipples under your thumbs. 

“Yeah,” Mammon breathes, “in my ass.” 

"Seriously?" you ask, feeling your cock throb at his words. You know better to question him, it always makes him doubt himself.  

“No. Or I mean yeah, only if you wanna. Y’don’t have to,” he mumbles, “but if you wanted to, ‘m already clean.” You don't need to be told twice.  

“Shit puppy, I’ll fuck your ass.” 

Mammon practically falls to his hands and knees, at that. You know, at best, he’s actively turned on by the fact that he’s sitting in his own puddle of piss, at worst he is clearly unbothered by it. He raises his ass enticing—inviting you to touch him.  

You’re a bit clumsy with getting out of your pants, but who could blame you, with him looking so good in front of you. Settling between his legs, you keep the lube you’d grabbed earlier within reaching distance. You place your hands on Mammon’s ass and he whines, arching into your touch. Blood rushes to your cock; you feel lightheaded as you spread his cheeks and reveal his hole to you.  

“You-” you pause, letting a finger circle his hole. Cotton mouth is getting to you, and you audibly swallow before continuing. “You prepped yourself already?” 

“Lil’ bit, need more,” he hums softly, wiggling his hips. Despite feeling like your mouth is dry, you manage to gather a glob of saliva in your mouth and promptly spit it on his entrance.  

You won’t use your spit as lube, you do it just because it’s filthy, because you can, and because Mammon keens—high and long—when you rub your spit against and into his hole. You’re aching to be inside of him.  

“Fuck-- fuckin’ come on,” he begs, his voice cracking and straining with need. You spank him, quick and sharp; his back arches further as he melts into the pad.  

“Calm down pup” you chide, grabbing the lube nearby and coating your fingers in it. “Gonna have to muzzle you if you keep rushing me,” you think about that, gagging him with something, but you know you’ll want to hear whatever mindless babbles will fall from his lips once you start fucking him.  

Mammon doesn’t say anything, just moans when you ever-so-slowly sink your finger into his ass. It must be agonizing for him, to hold himself up on his hands and knees, to lay in his own piss, to be as wet as he is right now (thoroughly drenched), and to be opened up so carefully and slowly.  

You rub your finger against his insides, then press in another finger slowly. Mammon takes it like a champ, twitching and squeezing around your digits as he humps his hips back against your hand.  

“Greedy little thing,” you groan. Mammon giggles but it’s cut off when you curl your fingers.  

“Oh, ’m just,” he hiccups, “I need it daddy, I need ya, need your cock—shit!” He gasps when you take your free hand and spank his ass. His hole clenches like a vice around you. Your cock throbs.  

Your patience is running thin, but you make him wait just a bit longer, scissoring your fingers open, feeling him loosen up for you. 

“Gotta grab a condom,” you mutter, easing your fingers out of him ever so slowly. Mammon whines, but doesn’t protest more than that. He knows better.  

Standing on shaky legs, you stumble to the bedside table, grabbing a condom before making yourself comfortable once again behind him. u

Mammon’s busied himself by pressing his face into his mess, lazily licking at his piss, a hand between his legs slowly circling his fingers around his hard clit.  

You watch him for a moment, your cock leaking pre and twitching at the sight of him, while you try your best to open the condom with shaky, sticky fingers.  

Once you’ve got it on, you slick yourself with lube, and drape yourself over Mammon’s body.  

He pulls his head up, licking his lips, then mumbling something.  

“What was that, pup?” you ask, pressing the head of your cock against his hole. 

“Want ya—” he huffs, averting eye contact, “want ya t’mount me, daddy.” Involuntarily, your hips jerk forward, and your cockhead ruts against his hole.  

“God damn,” you hiss, taking yourself into your hand, “relax,” you say, unsure if it’s for yourself or Mammon to hear.   

Ever so slowly, you press yourself into him. He gasps and moans, shuddering from the intensity of the sensation and stretch.  

“Fuck, puppy,” you moan, feeling breathless and close already. “Taking daddy’s cock so well, baby. Feel so fucking good,” Mammon whines at your words, still playing with his clit. 

“Full,” you hear him mumble. You rock your hips, gently starting to fuck him into the pee pad. “Oh,” Mammon gasps.  

“Feelin’ good?” you ask, leaning over him to kiss his back tenderly.  

“Uh-uh huh,” you know him well enough to know he sounds close already. 

“Taking me so well,” you repeat yourself, because your brain is hazy with lust and weed and the beautiful man beneath you, and shit, he really does open up nicely for you. Still fucking his ass nice and slow, you bring one of your hands down to his pussy—bypassing his clit because Mammon’s fingers are preoccupied with it—and easily slip two fingers into his hole.  

“Fuck!” Mammon cries, trembling. 

“Feel me, baby?” you tease, rubbing your fingers against your own cock from within his insides. Mammon gushes and twitches violently around you.  

“Daddy--” he gurgles, trailing off and mumbling something incoherent. 

“It’s okay puppy, hah, you can cum if you want to.” Being the ever submissive demon that he is, it’s not until he’s granted permission that he does; crying out your name and coming completely undone under you. It takes everything in you to not fill the condom then and there. Instead, you ever so slowly fuck him through it, finding it difficult to move with just how tightly he clenches down on you.  

“God damn,” you groan again, easing yourself ever so slowly out of him once he slowly returns to himself. 

“Can I cum in your pussy, puppy?” you roll off the condom and toss it carelessly elsewhere.  

Mammon doesn’t respond with a verbal go ahead, but he raises his hips for you and whines pathetically, looking back at you with his red and dilated eyes giving you a pleading look.  

“Mhm, thank you pup,” you coo, pulling out your fingers and easing your cock raw into his cunt. Mammon groans, then lets out a pleased sigh. You know his masochistic self would have loved you to fuck his ass roughly, but you just can’t bring yourself to doing it just yet. Instead, you fuck his pussy hard and deep, selfishly chasing your orgasm.  

Mammon babbles under you, mostly unintelligible, but you pick up the stray moan of your name and “please.” You’re not any more composed, vocalizing every thought that enters your mind. 

“My puppy, hah, sweet thing, my—ah—my  sweet puppy, love you, feel so-oh good, puppy, gonna breed you pup, fuck,” he’s so hot and tight around you, the weed makes it hard to focus on what feels best, “gotta fill your womb with my cum, hah, you’ll take it all won’t you puppy?” He nods his head, which surprises you, because you can barely follow your own train of thought. “Fuck, that’s right, shit, gonna cum,” you warn. You feel dizzy, hot, and rabid, the sound of your hips slapping against Mammon’s skin echoes throughout the room as you pound him into the floor.  

“Mammon,” you gasp softly as you find your peak, burying your cock deep inside him and pumping your cum into him. He can’t speak at all now, just whines and keens softly, his overstimulated pussy spasming around your dick.  

You keep yourself lodged in him for a good minute, until you’re soft and your body aches. 

Mammon is thoroughly fucked and still stoned, so as soon as you’re not there to hold him up he slumps into the mess that’s been soaking into the pee pad.  

“C’mon baby, up we go,” you mumble softly, taking him into your arms. He lazily drapes his arms around you, sighing contently, and nuzzling into your touch.  

“Bath?”  

Mammon nods at the suggestion, so you rise to your feet and shakily make your way to the bathroom. You’ll deal with the mess later.  

“Hungry?” you check, setting him down in the tub as you fill it with water. Mammon shakes his head no. “You hurting at all?” He rolls his eyes at that. You pinch his thigh, “shut up, I know you’re the all powerful and great demon Mammon, but I get to ask anyways,” you pout. He smiles, his fangs poking against his teeth, before he pulls you in for a kiss.  

When you pull away his stomach growls. “Liar,” you tease, kissing him again quickly before rising to your feet. 

“No, no,” he gasps, holding onto you, “s’fine, don’t leave t’feed me.” You coo, entering the tub with him and rewarding your greedy man by smothering him with kisses and cuddles. You want to kick yourself for even imagining leaving him in this state. 

“Of course sweetheart, we’ll keep this short, then get something to eat, how’s that sound?” he nods at that, letting you wrap yourself around him.  

“I wanna eat, and I wanna watch a movie, and maybe fuck again,” he huffs, leaving no room for negotiation.  

“Yeah,” you laugh, kissing his skin, hoping to convey your endless love through such a mundane action, “yeah, we can do that puppy.”  

[hetakinkmemeblog]

Prompt fill 113

Magical Endeavour

Request: #113

Pairing: WalesEng

Prompt: England getting teased about his body so he drunkenly enchants clay so that however he sculpts a figure/doll, his body changes to match the doll. Wales finds it and decides to make his brother into a horny sex pet. Animal up to writer, as long as it's a mammal, but I like cow, cat, pig, dog, and bunny people most

wordcount: 1,737

It had been a drunken ramble. Insecurity coming to the surface after alcohol melted away Arthur’s filter. Or so Dylan thought. But the next morning, he found his brother passed out on the floor of their magic lair, pantless, only a dress shirt covering him and a lump of clay beside him. Dylan knew that was no ordinary clay.

He cradled the clay in his hands. So much power right there. He looked over to Arthur all curled up and fast asleep. Like a little kitten.

Dylan had an idea. He rubbed the clay until it was nice and warm. Even the slightest touch seemed to affect Arthur as he whimpered in his sleep. Dylan couldn’t help but chuckle at the reactions. He was already so cute. And Dylan was only going to make him cuter.

For the next half-hour, he carved away at the clay, sculpting it perfectly with his magic until he had a small replica of Arthur except he had added cat ears, whiskers, and a tail. His creation finally complete, he looked over to Arthur to see if he had really transformed.

Arthur lay sprawled out, cheeks flushed and whiskered, cat ears protruding from his head, and a fluffy tail protruding from his lower back.

Dylan smirked, licking his lips hungrily. He murmured his own enchantment into the clay to add a bit more fun. Arthur’s cock sprung up, fully erect. Now he was perfect.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes, cracks of green exposed. He rolled onto his stomach and stretched out his arms, thrusting his butt into the air tail swaying slightly like a cat just awoken from its nap. He stood on all fours, stretching each leg before realizing just how hard he was. Arthur whined, crawling over to where Dylan was seated, rubbing his cheek against his knee.

“Awww…What a cute little kitten you make,” he cooed, scratching Arthur behind his cat ears. Arthur purred slightly butting his head further into Dylan’s hand. “And so affectionate. Maybe I should do this more often.”

Arthur whimpered again, eyes looking up at Dylan, hazy and pleading.

“You can still use your words, can’t you pet?” Dylan asked, scratching Arthur’s chin. Arthur’s purrs only grew louder, eyes fluttering closed, inhibition melting away.

“Please…Please, Master. Fuck me.”

The ‘Master’ was a nice touch he wasn't expecting. “Oh? Well, I think you have to do something for me first.”

Arthur tilted his head, eyes blinking slowly.

Dylan unbuckled his pants, pulling them and his underwear down letting his half-hard cock free. “Suck,” he commanded.

Arthur bit his lip, staring at the cock in front of him.

“Come now, be a good boy,” Dylan pressed gently.

Arthur licked his lips, positioning himself between Dylan's legs. He looked good there. Hands curling into Arthur’s hair, he pulled him closer. Arthur opened his mouth, tongue jutting out slightly as he took the tip of Dylan’s cock into his mouth.

Even his tongue felt like a cat's. A little coarse, but it felt good when it circled around Dylan's dick. He couldn't help but gasp, throwing his head back as his pet worked up and down his shaft. So the rumours he heard whispered amongst gossiping nations were true. Arthur had quite the talented mouth when you got him to shut up and take it.

Arthur licked along the underside of Dylan’s cock before finally taking the whole thing in his mouth. That new tongue was quite the sensation. At this rate, he wasn’t going to last long. He pushed Arthur away. Arthur looked up, tongue still hanging out, a bit of drool trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

Dylan smiled, thumbing away the drool, cradling Arthur’s jaw, admiring his pet’s honest, lust-filled expression. “So cute,” he mused, “Now for your reward.”

Arthur’s ears twitched, pupils widening.

Dylan patted his lap, and Arthur immediately jumped into it. Straddling his lap, Arthur couldn’t hold back anymore, grinding against Dylan's leg. Desperate for any kind of stimulation. Like he was in heat. If it was possible, it only turned Dylan on more.

“Now Now…Patience pet,” Dylan chastised, gripping Arthur’s hips firmly. “I don’t want to break you after all. At least not yet.”

Arthur’s dick twitched. Dylan smirked. “I suppose they don’t call you the ‘Erotic Ambassador’ for nothing, my pervy pet. You like it rough don’t you?”

The Brit just mewled.

Dylan gripped his hair tight, tugging him closer. Arthur let out a pained cry.

“Use your words,” Dylan demanded, whispering low in his ear.

“Yes.”

“Good. But I still need to prepare you. Fetch me the lube. I know you hide some in here.”

Arthur hung his head, cheeks flushing even darker as he climbed off Dylan’s lap. Even in this state, some of Arthur’s core personality still lingered. And Dylan wouldn’t have it any other way. An embarrassed Arthur was a cute Arthur. He grabbed a small vile from one of the usually locked drawers.

“Prepare yourself for me,” Dylan continued, “And make a show of it.”

Arthur bit his lip but eagerly obeyed. He poured the lube over his fingers, resting his other hand on Dylan’s shoulder to steady himself as he worked himself open. Eyes fluttered closed, jaw hung open in a soundless moan, head thrown back. It was a beautiful sight.

The Welshman couldn’t help but bite down on Arthur’s exposed neck. Arthur let out another cry, nails digging into Dylan’s shoulder. It was a delicious stab that went straight to Dylan’s groin. Feeling impatient, he pulled his pet back down onto his lap.

Arthur gasped, instinctively removing his fingers.

Dylan caressed Arthur’s chin. “Now it's time for my pet’s reward.”

He laid Arthur down on the couch gently. He threw Arthur’s legs over his shoulder. Stealing some of the lube, he lathered up his cock and pressed in hard and fast. Arthur arched up, eyes flying open, a tight scream escaping his throat.

“Easy…Easy darling,” Dylan hushed, rubbing Arthur’s hips gently.

Arthur whimpered, short pants huffing out, eyes clenched closed. Perhaps he had gone in a little too rough.

Dylan leaned forward, capturing Arthur’s lips in a soothing kiss. Lips parted slightly, licking at his bottom lip. Arthur mewled into it, arms wrapping tightly around Dylan’s neck, pulling him deeper into him. Dylan groaned, feeling his brother tighten around him, pulling him in.

He gave an experimental thrust into Arthur’s tight hole. Slow, wanting to make sure Arthur was ready. Arthur moaned breathily, bucking his hips desperately.

Dylan chuckled, holding down Arthur’s hips. “Use your words pet.”

“Move. Movemovemovemove.”

“Manners.”

“Please,” Arthur cried desperately, “P-Please move.”

How could Dylan deny such a polite request? He snapped his hips fast, pressing into Arthur even further. He set a relentless pace knowing just how much his little pet liked it rough. He claimed Arthur’s lips hungrily, thrusting his tongue into his mouth and laying claim. He may have seen himself as a patient man, but who could wait when such a delectable little thing was laid before them all red and hazy-eyed?

Arthur licked at Dylan’s invasive tongue, almost literally drinking him in, nails jabbing into Dylan’s neck.

“Such a needy little thing,” Dylan cooed, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s forehead. He pressed Arthur’s legs into his chest, thrusting in even deeper. In and out in quick succession, causing Arthur to scream incoherently, tongue hanging out, drooling, tears pricking along his lashes. Dylan never noticed just how long they were until now. “Beautiful…”

Arthur kept tightening around him, and though he was as deep as he could be, Arthur’s hole kept pulling him in.

“What a greedy kitten I have,” Dylan whispered, “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Taking me so good.”

Arthur just moaned, his mind melted beyond words.

He could make this go on, deny Arthur release. And in any other circumstance, he would. But his was new for both of them. He wasn’t going to be too cruel now.

“Now be a good kitten and come for me.” Dylan reached between Arthur’s legs, giving his neglected cock a few firm strokes that finally gave his pet the release he had been craving. He came with a breathy cry of Dylan’s name.

Such a wonderful sound. Dylan picked up his speed even more, thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own pleasure. Arthur twitched around him, overstimulated, while the rest of his body melted into the couch.

Dylan murmured half-complete praises, so close, panting hard. His grip on Arthur’s hips, bruising. Arthur gasped and moaned softly.

Finally, Dylan came, biting hard on Arthur’s neck. It would surely leave a mark for a few days, but in the heat of the moment, Dylan didn’t care.

He pulled out, sitting back and admiring the mess he made of his little brother. He caressed Arthur’s face gently, thumbing away tears. Arthur leaned into the touch. Fingers trailed down to the bite mark. Arthur winced.

“Sorry love…I got a little carried away.”

“You think?" Arthur finally grumbled, "What the fuck did you do to me?”

Ah, there was his fierceness. He had almost missed it even though he enjoyed seeing Arthur more docile.

“Just…experimenting…with that clay of yours.”

“Clay–Wait shit. D-Did I really…”

Dylan giggled and got up to collect the clay. “Mhm. Don’t worry I didn’t do anything too crazy, just the cat ears and tail.”

Arthur’s cat ears pulled back, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t give me that look, Arthur…You enjoyed it, didn’t you? Having your inhibition taken away, letting yourself enjoy being thoroughly fucked and taken care of without that pesky ego of yours getting in the way of our fun.”

Arthur pouted, huffing as he crossed his arms. “M-Maybe…but…”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I want to keep this side of you to myself after all.”

“Jealous bastard.”

Dylan just smiled, pulling Arthur onto his lap again. He was met with no fight. “Maybe…But you’re just as so. And you like when I'm possessive.”

“Just shut up,” Arthur growled, pressing a heated kiss against Dylan’s lips. Dylan melted into it, parting his lips slightly, deepening the kiss. Arthur whimpered slightly, cock hardening once more.

“Someone seems to want another round.”

“Just get to it.”

"With pleasure. I won't go so easy on you this time."

Arthur smirked as he was laid on the couch again. "Do your worst."

[myfeetkeepdancing]

"You're going with it?"

"Yeah… Yeah, I do." Tom giggled charmingly. "I like it." Checking out his outfit. Once again, no pants and white socks. Topped off with this fashionable black suit. "Keeps my temperature just about right." Trying to justify his pantless outfit while pushing the last folds out. "Warm suit, cool legs. It's just… right." He smiles fondly, enjoying his decision.

"I clearly remember from last time you were all hot and bothered at the end." Shifting in your seat. "And that only in a space of… thirty to forty seconds." His mouth gasped open as if this revelation was utterly based on lies. "It showed. Big time."

"It wasn't that bad!"

"Well, a face as red as a tomato, I sure won't forget."

"What do you think?!" He stands up, approaching you, leaning in for that sweet kiss. "I had you-…"

"Careful, darling." You interrupt and flinch back on purpose, Tom hovering inches away from your lips. Holding the pitcher of water in between the two of you. "Don't wanna spill this-...." You grin. "All over those pretty legs... and black boxer shorts." Stealing a quick kiss on his lips. "Wouldn't want you showing on camera covered in wet spots."

"Then you better hold on tight." He jests and pushes on. Pressing his lips onto yours with more force than usual. His hands grabbing the backrest of your chair. Turning his kiss more violent and heavy. You feel like he'd push you off the chair with this intensity. While you fought to stay balanced. Both hands on the pitcher. Careful not to spill anything.

"I had you…" He continued, despite having his lips occupied with yours. "-you… watching me... teasing me..." Pushing you furthermore onto the chair. It sat so uncomfortable, but now even more. Finding your balance. While also trying to listen to Tom. And that kiss, so passionate and fierce, that even breathing became a task worthy of your attention. Each word he spoke, he'd give you a breather, pulling back. Utter a few well-placed words. You were literally hanging onto his lips. "Darling, you're more… than a pretty distraction.

"You know what they say." You mumble in the kiss. Noses nuzzled together. As he slowed down, finally allowing you to speak. His smile radiating against yours. "Right...?"

"It's about my legs." He says, taking back. Giving you a moment of respite. "Or my crotch?" Staring at you with squinted eyes. "Which one is it?" He keeps going. "You think I should put some pants on...?" He looked to the side, struck by indifference. "Is it fashion, though?" You wonder for a moment if you let him ramble. What path this would lead.

"Joe Russo-…" You whisper, grabbing his attention immediately. "-has better thighs than you." Biting your lower lip, trying hard to contain your laughter.

"For real?" He pulls back just as you're going in for the second round of kisses. "Are you joking?" Trying to act as if he feels offended. "It's about the pitcher…" Crossing his arms. "Isn't it?" Waiting for your reaction. "Am I right?"

"I had no hand in this, Tom." Shrugging your shoulders. "Your thighs are trending, and the people have spoken. It's universally agreed upon that Joe has better thighs than you."

"I can't…. I can't believe it." Tom's expression was priceless. His expression switched from dumbstruck to disbelief, to stunned and back again. All in a matter of seconds. Staring off to the side. Eyes glazing over for a moment. "Guess I'll… I'll wear pants then..." Sounding slightly disappointed.

"Though, I can say I had a hand on this." You chuckle, patting the bare naked skin of his thigh. Just as he was about to head for his pants. Which he had found in the end. Tom being chaos incarnate himself, always loses things. Even if he packed it himself.

"And you liked it." He smiled with this smug expression. Tom being more than pleased with himself being able to find a victory in this derailed conversation. Slipping on his tailored pants, all black, and matching.

"True. But I never had Joe's… so..." You taunt, eyeing the entirety of the suit. "Difficult one."

"You're unbearable today." Leaning in for a kiss as the call came in.

"Handsome." You add on. "Unbearably handsome." Fighting to keep the kiss going with all the giggles and laughter in between.

"Don't go stealing my title, love."

"Give your waterboy some credit."

"Don't... don't say that." He pouts his lips. "Because I had a little argument-"

"Fallout, you mean." Tom averted his gaze as he knew very well it was his fault. His temper did play a hefty part in it. He sure wasn't proud of it. Especially since one of his brothers was on the receiving end. "You and your tempers." You shake your head like a judgmental parent. "Now you have to deal with me again."

"Thank you for doing this." Trying to brush away his feelings of guilt. Charging in for a simple exchange of kisses again.

"You told me to."

"I didn't say that!" He smiled. "At least… not in those words."

"I could have been hitting the bar by now."

"I know… Don't make me feel all guilty, love. What is it you want?" Slowly peeling himself off of you. Feeling the heat of the call still ringing behind him. "Another deal?" Nonetheless, kissing you back. "Just like last time..."

"You know what I want.” You moan into the kiss. Not many more words needed to spilled about it. The though alone made Tom’s lips shudder against yours. You can’t help but grin. “How about some credit, Tom." You mumble after his departing lips. "Credit where credit is due." Taking him by surprise.

"Shit…" Tom cursed while looking back at his laptop, giggling as his thoughts were elsewhere occupied. The call went unanswered, turning everything quiet again. Except for both of your racing heart. "Probably Jimmy's assistant."

"Tommy…" You try to catch his attention again, with your hand on his cheek. Pulling his eyes and lips back to you. "You heard me."

"Yeah, Yeah." He giggled while his smile grew in size. "I heard you." The way he averted his gaze from yours sure told you he was trying to think a way out of it. "I'll think about it." Pecking a quick kiss to your forehead. "I will."

"Say it, Tom." You urge on. "Or I undress right here, right now..."

"Usually, I'd help you." He smirked with this expression of pure mischief. "But now. Please don't. Not now."

"Please, do remind me."

"You know you're more than a pretty distraction." He giggled, taking your cheeks in his hands. Feeling all warm and soft. Just like his lips. Welcoming and soothing to the touch.

"Time to choose." The second call came. Making Tom veer back up. "If you're not going to say it… then I at least want you to show it."

Tom shook his head, smile stretching. "I'll say it again..." His hand hovered across the pad of his laptop. "You're-"

"Just pick up, Tom." You break him off mid-sentence. "And keep that temper of yours in check. Jimmy Fallon is waiting." Prodding him into his side just as he was about to answer. "And you fix this with Harry!" Going from prodding to tickling. The other hand unable to keep the pitcher leveled, spilling the water on you.

Tom's eyes widened seeing you rise from the chair, ditching the pitcher on the table beside you. Immediately lifting his finger from the pad. Freezing on the spot.

"Promise me, Tom…" Hooking your finger in the band of his pants. Pulling him flat against you. His fingers slipping between your pants, feeling your hips and hovering your lips inches apart from each other. Both sucking a nervous breath.

"I… I have to take this call." He stammered, sucking on his lips. Tom's eyes always darted up and down, taking you in, mentally undressing you. While his fingers caress and feel the curves of your body.

"Tom…" Kissing him slow and passionate. Letting your fingers find the buttons of his pants. "Apologize to Harry..." And he lets you. Loosening the belt, feeling the tension of the fabric loosen. Hooking your fingers in, careful not to bring his shorts with. And slowly start pulling them down.

"I will..." He whispered, watching you discarding his pants before leading you back to the chair. You were so caught up in each other. If there weren't a call still going in the background, there for sure had happened something way more exciting. Almost missing the ongoing call. "I promise. I will…" Kissing you a final time. "You bastard..." He smirked. "I'll get you."

"I'm sure you will." Watching him recover and get back over his laptop. "I'm sure…" Taking in the new pantless Tom. "So, no deal this time around?"

"You drive me crazy!" The call still going. Tom starting to panic slightly.

"I know." You smile. "And you know I can still undress here?"

"Don't!" He shot back. "This interview is way too long for that."

"Is that Rolex watertight by the way?"

He sneaked a glance at his watch as if he was going to read the number right of the surface. "Yeah, I believe it's up to-..." He looked up at you, eyes widened and a look of terror followed by a smile of mischief. "No (Y/N)..." He started shaking his head. "No-No-No! No! Don't you th-... Don't!" Holding out a hand towards you. "I got plenty more shots with this suit."

"Credit where credit is due, Tom. Or… you show your legs. Full into frame." Slowly swirling the water in the pitcher as a way of threatening him. "Proof your thighs are superior to Joe's."

"So… you... do think they're superior?" A smug little smile spreading across his face as he sits himself in front of the laptop. "Just admit it." Rising back to his feet again. "I mean..." Taking a step back and planting his feet on the chair. Showing the beautiful shape of his leg. "-look at it."

"God, Tom… If you keep going like this, you're not going to make it to this interview. I swear..." Feeling the rush of heat shooting through. Throwing some water across your face from the pitcher. Tom looking all pleased with himself. "Now shield your crotch-..." Giving him a wink. "...-and don't forget to flex those muscles. Make me proud."

[kuvvydraws]

Órdago and Scout having a standoff in the kitchen, Scout clutching a spoon and Órdago staring him down with determination

But little does Órdago know, Scout's wearing tear-away pants with assless chaps underneath

If I could only add a million screenshots of our convo XD

I think the distinctive clap of Scout's asscheeks would alert Órdago enough to know there's something off with the pants but the spoon's crunch and call is too damning not to try.

Scout would end up pantless in the scuffle and Órdago would shriek and go blue and forget the spoon in his haste to leave the kitchen -which is now on fire and no one knows how or why. Scout keeps his spoon and can claim victory, but little does he know, there's another skeleton on their way, summoned by the click and the clap.

[omoghouls]

Okay, but imagine; Olli just walking in to see a pantless Felix absolutely soaking his diaper and gently teasing him about it.

Cg7gxucgy7xug

"Hmm, and here we were, fussing up a storm this morning over these, I believe we're rethinking that fit now, yes? " She muses as she's tailing around the older man, a knowing grin on her face, seeing his brows arch while he attempts to hide his face.

"Now, now," She adds, standing infront of Felix, moving his hands away from his face, she can feel the burning heat radiating off his face, "No need to be embarrassed dear, these are what they're for."

Felix chews on his lower lip, his free hand pulling the hem of his vest over his exposed lower half.

"M-miss Ivanov," he quietly speaks, the slightest hint of a whine as he feels her hand lightly squeezing then tapping his desk.

"I know, I know, no fun being so soggy, huh? Lets get you changed before we have you leaking all over the nice floor." ♡

[awful-roffle-archive]

early mornings and new roomies

1.2k words

a/n: hello friends and mutuals its 1 am but i needed to write about calorinity again

---

Trinity groans and rolls over, half untangling herself from her girlfriend to check the time on her phone. 4:53 in the morning. Far too early to be awake. She sighs and folds her arm over her face, then rolls the rest of the way away from Calypso to wander to the bathroom.

Her reflection in the mirror didn’t look all that appealing either. It’s been a long, long night of very restless sleep. She grumbles as she puts her hair up into a makeshift bun. Her toothbrush sits in her mouth as she absentmindedly steps back out of the bathroom and into the living room.

And then a piercing scream fills the air as the toothbrush falls to the floor.

“What the- What the fuck!” The shirtless (and pantless!) man on the couch coughs as he scrambles into a sitting position.

“Jesus FUCKING-” Trinity exclaims as she turns around in a frenzy to go back into the bedroom to face a very panicked Calypso.

“What’s- what’s wrong? Everything okay?” Calypso frowns, gently patting down Trinity’s arms as she looks past her.

“Your fucking- Your fucking-- HIM!” Trinity motions a hand aggressively behind her, covering her eyes with her hand as she grabs her toothbrush off the floor and retreats back to the bathroom.

The door slams behind her.

Calypso opens her mouth to speak, looking back and forth between Trinity and Orion on the couch, who’s rapidly pulling his clothing back on.

“Sorry- Sorry. Maybe this wasn’t a great idea?” Orion suggests awkwardly, “I knew I should’ve gotten a hotel room or an apartment or something. Shit. Sorry, sorry, I’ll go, sorry.” He motions his hands in the air, shuffling the blanket the rest of the way off of himself as he reaches for his duffel bag.

“No- No! No, we’ll- You’re okay, at least stay for breakfast...Please?” She pleads, “Just- Just- I don’t know, give me a minute. Gah.” Callie throws her own hands up and goes back into the bedroom to yank proper clothing on.

It still takes another 4 minutes and 34 seconds for Trinity to come back out of the bathroom. “I didn’t think you’d stay.” She speaks bluntly with her hands over her chest. The eyebags under her eyes are as visible as ever.

“Well I... thought… Uh...” Orion begins, furrowing his brow. He doesn’t really have a good comeback. He leans awkwardly against the arm of the sofa, his duffel bag of his few belongings held close in his lap.

“Last night. I mean. I didn’t think you’d really stay, I thought you’d book it.” She adds with a sigh, moving across the room to the kitchen, flipping on the main light switch as she passes it.

“I can go now.” He offers a second time.

“Breakfast!” Calypso shouts down the hall as she races across it to the bathroom. “We’ll talk then!”

Passing awkward glances with a distinctive lack of eye contact with dead silence fill the living room and kitchen. Only the sound of the coffee maker bubbling manages to break the silence, but even that soon fades into the background. Orion clears his throat and brushes his hair out of his face as his gaze turns firmly down to his feet.

“Okay- Okay. ...Okay.” Calypso repeats a few times with a sigh, coming out with a basic t-shirt and sweatpants thrown on. Her hair primarily rests behind her back, with messy strands flying off the sides of her head. “I know this is different, I know- I just- I think this is good. Come on Trin, I don’t want him to end up in some dingy motel full of rats.” Her voice is soft and pleading as she moves over to hug Trinity from behind, resting her head on the other’s shoulder.

“….It’s definitely… different. That’s… That’s not a lie.” Trinity speaks up, her voice a little agitated underneath the forced laughter that falls from her lips.

Calypso chews on her lips as she looks back and forth between them. She pulls back from Trinity and sighs, leaning back against the island. “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s my fault, I’m moving too fast. I just want you two to get along, you both mean so much to me and I- I--” Her words trail off as she, too, looks at the floor.

“...Callie. I just, I just wanna know,” Trinity speaks up after another long moment of silence falling upon the room. “I don’t mind you two using my place, but is he-” Her words struggle to bubble to the surface as she covers her mouth with her hand. She doesn’t need to say anything though. Calypso immediately shakes her head in response, rushing back towards her to take her hands in hers.

“No, no. He’s not replacing you, I love you. I love you. I’ve never even- I don’t know how things are going to go. I couldn’t tell you a damned thing with that. But I want to get to know him- Again, I guess, and I want you to get to know him too, if that’s okay. But if not that’s-” Her tone is a little hurt as she continues, but she tries to hide it, “That’s okay too. I just want you to understand nothing is going to change between us.”

Trinity hesitantly nods, still not convinced. She smiles softly at the light peck to the corner of her mouth. Callie hugs her gently, then turns back to Orion – who is still very much considering bolting out the door.

“The same goes to you. I want to give this a shot. I want to get to know you. All of you. Again. Is that okay?” Calypso holds out her hands as she steps towards him. Her eyes are watering as floodgates threaten to burst open.

“Yeah- Yeah. That sounds… That sounds okay to me.” Orion offers a hesitant smile as well, his gaze dropping back towards Trinity in the kitchen. “I’m sorry. Was it the pants thing? I got too hot, sorry.”

That earns a breathy laugh from Trinity as she wipes her face off. “Jesus, no.” A slight pause. “I mean, sort of. I get it. Just- At least I know what to expect from you being on my couch now, right?”

“Right.” Orion smiles a little wider, but there’s still that lingering sense of dread in the back of his throat. Calypso yanks Orion forward into a hug, causing him to stumble and toss his bag to the side.

“You have more than one set of clothes in there, right? That’s what you were wearing yesterday. Go get dressed, I’ll make breakfast.” Callie smiles as Orion nods and wordlessly pulls away and rushes back to the bathroom with a scoop of his bag in hand. Calypso lets out a tense sigh of partial relief, running her hands through her hair as she moves back to the kitchen. “Thank you for coffee baby.”

“Mmhm.” Trinity smiles and hands Calypso her favorite sunflower-themed mug, putting her own to her lips. A pause lingers in the air as she sets down her cup and pours another, leaving it on the edge of the counter with a bottle of creamer sat near it. She quickly scribbles out a sticky note of ‘Didn’t know how you liked it’ before sticking it to the counter and moving to clean up the couch. Blankets are folded and put off into the corner with a pillow messily thrown on top of it.

It was certainly different.

[linpunny]

Hot Clover

A/N THERE IS NOT ENOUGH ZORA IDEALE CONTENT RIGHT NOW AND I SIMP MIGHTY HARD FOR THIS COOL MASKED JERK. So please enjoy “Hot clover” a multi work fic of Zora Ideale.

Warning: Female self insert. Angst. mentions of curse words. slight nsf. i mean its midly spicy if that. (if anyone sees sees any other warning or triggers I should add let me know PLEASE)

word count : 1185

Chapter 1: Stolen glances

 “Ahhh! I’m not done yet!!” You flipped over in bed your sleep ridden eyes could barely make out the numbers on the clock. 7 a.m.

“Asta!!” You groaned as you threw the covers on the floor angrily. Slamming the door open you felt a breeze as a small idiot cleaned the floor of the black bulls base very loudly with a rag. Sighing you thought ‘how could someone clean so loudly?’ Just as you opened your mouth to sound off and express your unhappiness for being woken up by Asta, a voice shouted “You stupid shitty shrimp!! What kind of idiot cleans so loudly this early in the morning?!” He scoffed, his deep cerulean eyes blazing hot. You closed your mouth and stared at Zora, unable to look away, hypnotized by his appearance. What little clothes he had on ‘not that he wore much to begin with’ made your mouth dry. He was pantless, the only thing he was wearing were skintight black boxers and his signature mask. ‘Does he sleep with the mask on...?’ You questioned. His gaze turned towards you, his red brows knitted together in frustration. He stood there silent his eyes looking you up and down for what felt like an eternity. ‘Tch’ he clicked his tongue and walked back to his room and slammed the door shut.

 Shortly after Zora returned to his room you looked to Asta who was now yelling again as he landed on Zora’s trap magic. He was stuck paralyzed in a dumb position. His right leg sticking up, his hands in the air gripping the rag. His mouth tout, he begged for you to help. You laughed and closed the door to your room and fell onto the bed, pulling the covers up. “Zora..” you smiled as his name fell from your lips. You drifted off to sleep once again this time with an image of Zora in his damn near too tight boxers that were barley doing their job of covering his bulge.

————-

A knock on the door jolted you awake again after a few hours of shamelessly dreaming of him. You were flustered, your cheeks cherry red, heart thumping loudly, skin covered in goosebumps. You tried to steel yourself as the knocks continued your door. “Wait a minute!!” The knocks were heavy handed, loud and brash. ‘Captain Yami’ you rolled your eyes and opened the door just enough so you could make eye contact with him. “Kid didn’t you hear me knocking?” He took a drag of his cigarette blowing the smoke at you. You blinked and scoffed, “How could I not hear you? You almost broke down my damn door Captain!!” You stared daggers at Yami. He forced the door open with his foot and grabbed you by the head lifting you up to eye level “Do you have a death wish today dumbass?” You remained silent, “Huh, I didn’t hear you?” “N-no” you stuttered. “Good, because you have a mission today.”

 Yami continued to grip your head and walked you to the common room of the base and flung you down on the couch. “I’m not even dressed yet Captain!” he laughed and blew more smoke your way, “Sounds like a personal problem.”

There you sat in an over sized shirt with a clover emblem and purple boy short underwear with your arms crossed over your chest. Zora walked up beside you and placed a hand on your shoulder “I wasn’t aware that clothing was optional, should I change?” He shot a toothy grin your way and leaned in closer mocking you. Shoving away Zora you flicked him off and sank as low as you could into the couch. “Vanessa wears more clothes than you do Zora.” You mumbled trying to hide the blush creeping on your face. “Oi! You two idiots shut up already.” Yami yelled. Zora and you glared at each and then focused your attention to the now impatient Captain who was on his second cigarette since entering the common area.

Yami flicked the ash of his cigarette to the floor and took another long drag before speaking. “The two of you have a mission to go on-“ you interrupted Yami, “Again?” Sighing Yami continued “Yes, again. Get ready you leave in an hour. Zora knows the details. “ turning around Yami yelled for Finral to use his spatial magic to take him to the bathroom to fight yet another monster shit.

“Again? You don’t like going on missions with me brat?” Zora stood in front of you his head cocked to the side “We can leave now if your ready, purple is one of my favorite colors..” he was enjoying this. He watched as your face turned red with embarrassment. “S-s-shut up you uncool masked jerk!” You shut your eyes tight and tried to ignore him. ‘If I can’t see Zora then he can’t see me.’ You didn’t want to see his stupidly attractive body, you didn’t want to see him in your dreams and you didn’t want him to see you in your underwear. “no response huh?” Zora placed both hands around your waist and picked you up to throw over his shoulder. Your eyes grew wide and you shrieked and wiggled your way out his grasp and fell on the floor hard. He chuckled as you ran away horrified. “Maybe next time you should answer when your being talked to you damn brat!”

Running a hand through his crimson hair he waited for you to return. His thoughts drifted to the way his hands felt on your hips. Even if it was just for a moment it nearly sent him over the edge. He had gone on plenty of missions with you over the last few months, but it never occurred to him how supple your hips were, or how intoxicating your scent was to him. It was painfully obvious for Zora to see you were attracted to him. He noticed every fleeting look you gave him throughout the day. He took pride in making blush creep over your skin when his eyes meet with yours. And how could he not notice the way you nervously nibbled on your lower lip when he walked into the room? Either you were trying to flirt or you were just really bad at hiding it. “Probably the later” he thought aloud.

Vomit. You had wanted to vomit. You felt like never leaving your room. He was a tease. One you couldn’t resist. The skin where he had touched you burned hot with desire. “It was a prank. It was just a joke. Calm down, calm down..calm down!.” you begged for your heart to stop leaping out of your chest. He was waiting and you were reeling from his touch still. Sighing you threw the shirt to ground and put on a fish net undershirt, a black camisole and a gray suspender skirt that scooped right underneath your bust line. After finishing lacing up your boots you pulled the black bulls robe over your head and shut the door. It was mission time after all.

[haloshornsinkstains]

Only One Bed [Atsumu]

Gets a bit suggestive but nothing explicit. 

“I’m afraid we only have 5 rooms left, so you’ll have to share.” You glance back at the crowd of men behind you and sigh heavily. The hotel receptionist offers you a slightly strained smile, waving a hand placatingly. “There will be one single room, there are an odd number of you.” You nod and smile, taking the pile of keycard packets from her with a soft thanks. You know she means for the solo room to be yours, the only woman in a crowd of men, but Sakusa was already looking antsy when you entered the hotel and you’re pretty sure sharing a room will do him more harm than good. “Okay, I have good news and bad news.” You glance over the team, noting the slumped shoulders and sighing. “The good news is we don’t have to sleep on the bus. The bad news is they don’t have 9 rooms so we have to pair up.” You don’t miss the way Sakusa is frowning behind his mask, glancing over towards the door. “I’ll sleep on the bus, being in a hotel is bad enough.” You shake your head. “There’s one single room, you can have that Omi.” “Are you sure?” Bless him and his concern. You smile as you press a key packet into his palm. “I’ll be fine, I’m not the one who needs to be in top form. I’d rather you get a decent night's sleep and be as comfortable as you can be.” “It’s fine Omi, we’re all adults, we can share rooms.” Meian adds, gesturing for him to go ahead. You don’t miss the way his eyes crinkle at the corners with the hint of a smile just before you glance at the rest of the team and motion for them to start pairing up. “No, Bokuto and Hinata, you two are not sharing. That’s too much chaos for one room to handle.” You sigh, exhausted just from the thought. “Guess it’s you and me.” You huffed in suprise as the arm came to rest heavily around your shoulders, tilting your head slightly to glance at the setter. “Don’t get your hopes up ‘Tsumu.” Rolling your eyes at his pout you handed out the keys between the team, handing the last one to Atsumu with instructions to head up and rest as you turned back to the front desk. “Yer not comin’ with?” “I’ll be up in a moment ‘Tsumu, just need to sort a few things while I’m here. Go on, you need rest more than me.” You waved a hand towards the lifts before turning back to the front desk, listening as his heavy footsteps headed away from you. 

Once you finalised the mechanic for first thing in the morning with the receptionist (after far too many calls back and forth for your liking) you pulled out your phone and sent Atsumu a quick text to ‘please be wearing pants when I get up there’. You liked the setter more than you wanted to admit, and walking into a hotel room with him pantless was going to be bad for your heart, especially with the way he flirted so easily with everyone.

You sighed, unlocking the door with your keycard and pushing your way into the room. “Tsumu, you decent?” A head of blonde hair peered out behind the bathroom door and he grinned at you, stepping out shirtless. “Wearing pants as requested.” You rolled your eyes. “Thanks. I’m going to shower and get an early night, we can go to the breakfast buffet in the morning. I’ve told the team.” “I saw the group chat.” He waved his phone at you. “Get the mechanic sorted?” You nodded tiredly, heading towards the bathroom. “Eventually. God, I miss managing high school teams. It was so much easier.” “Please, you’d miss us.” “Only sometimes.” You called back, shutting the door behind you. Finally showered and now feeling the weight of the day’s exhaustion fully you glanced around the room for the couch. Only to realise belatedly you’d completely missed the fact there weren’t any couches in the room. Well fuck. “‘Tsumu, are there any spare blankets?” He returned holding a thin summer sheet. “Only this.” He took in your frown and sat on the bed, patting it gently. “Can’t have our manager freezin’ to death, come on, the bed is plenty big enough to share. I promise to behave.” You barely suppressed the laugh at the thought that he wasn’t the only one who should be promising to behave, but the room was cold and you weren’t exactly relishing the idea of curling up on a hard floor anyway. With a soft sigh you nodded, padding over to the bed. “Thank you Tsumu.” He shrugged, tucking himself under the covers and turning out the light. “Yer our manager, gotta look after ya.” You shook your head, slipping under the covers as far away from him as you could manage. The sheets weren’t thick, and with the ac unit still humming in the background you found yourself shivering. Pulling the covers as far up around you as you could while you buried yourself in the pillow. You could feel Atsumu shift on the other side of the bed, and for a brief moment you worried you had stolen all of the covers from him in an attempt to stay warm, at least until you heard him huff out a sigh. “Cold?” You shook your head. “N-no.” “Yer a terrible liar.” He chuckled, moments before you felt a strong arm loop around your waist and tug you into the warmth of his body even while you let out a startled yelp. “Shurrup will ya? Yer warm now ain’tcha?” “Mhm. Thanks ‘Tsumu.”  “Yeah yeah, just go to sleep.” He grumbled, pressing his face into your shoulder. You tried to fall asleep, you really did, but with the way your heart was racing at the closeness of his body and the thoughts his warmth pressed against you conjured in your mind… well, it took a long uncomfortable stretch of time before you finally drifted off.

The next morning you awoke to find something pressing uncomfortably into your back. Still half asleep you wriggled, trying to get comfortable again, only to hear a deep voice groaning into your shoulder. You felt your face burn, the pieces clicking into place and startling you awake.  “‘Tsumu, wake up. You’re poking me.” There was a grumble from behind you. “Quit wigglin’, I ain’t pokin’ ya.” “Just wake up dumbass.” You huffed, reaching behind you to smack his arm. “Fine! I’m awake.” There was a beat of silence, then a startled squawk as he pushed away from you. “Sorry! Sorry!” “It’s fine Tsumu, stop apologising.” You sighed, moving to the edge of the bed to sit up. “Honestly I expected you to ask for a hand.” “Maybe if I wanted ya to slap me.” You laughed and shook your head. “What’s to say I wouldn’t have said yes?” “I- you- what?! What’re ya on about?” “Ask me after you win the next match.” You grinned, throwing a wink his way. “I’m going to shower.” “I knew ya’d fall for me eventually!”

[disgustingtrash]

God of war thought vomit

Pls don’t bully me for all of my half baked

“ theories “ or my HORRID spelling...

Why did the giants break the Atreus healing/killing kratos drawing so much? Change of prophecy? Faye not wanting to accept it ? Thor was at the giants place and ruined wanting to take kratos life for himself? Most of the drawing is ruined and we can’t see what else is to happen beside Atreus healing/killing Kratos. Not only is most of the drawing ruined but it is also COVERED!!! It’s covered by a curtain. Why? Why would whoever ruined the drawing want to cover it up? A change in fate so last minute the giants tried destroying the evidence but they were rushed for some reason and covered hoping no one would find it? Why is it covered!!!!! Another thing , the door that leads to the highest peak. That bit is smashed in , so I assume the room was just a room maybe for worship or was created by Faye to tell a story. At some point tho the door is created and we miss the part that is smashed in. The part is smashed for a door, than why is the Atreus kill/heal part also smashed? For what purpose? Every other part of the mural is fine beside a few non interfering cracks but the kill/heal is almost all gone. Another door to somewhere? Hidden secrets perhaps

Atreus and Kratos healing drawing. Healing? Is Atreus donating some of his own soul to his father to revive him? Or is Atreus stealing kratos’ soul?

We fight freya in her Valkyrie form! Talks about how she wants her wings back, and how much she wants to kill kratos. Maybe if kratos kills thor she gets real pissed and talks w Odin saying that if she gets her wings back she can kill kratos.

The giants called Faye their guardian and she would “ return” in their time of need but she didn’t really guard or protect shit. shit. Maybe her ashes will revive the giants since they were all glittery. The return of Faye could also mean just re uniting with her people as ashes. Could as be that she left the guardian of giants role bc she chose a life with kratos hence the argument with the giants. OR could also be the guardian of giants with Atreus , who is part giant and will let the giant race live on.

Kratos killed the sisters of fate in his own land, he can change his fate how ever he wants. Kratos is not of Norse decent so he is not bound by the fate everyone there is ( if fate does exist in cold ppl world ) , perhaps fate of Norse lands did not expect Kratos who is not bound to their rules of life progression. Kratos can fuck up Norse mythology however he wants.

What if Faye was the one who made all the drawings in the ending room? We know she knew that they got there since her gold pathing is on the rocks. Nowhere BUT in the end is kratos mentioned, I would think some random god from another land fucking everything up would be very important to write down somewhere but it isn’t. Unless I’ve missed lore , the only place kratos is told of is in the ending drawings. Maybe the giants did not see kratos coming , and only Faye knew? The room is opened with all the carvings made by the dead giants , maybe Faye was the last and when she got to the giants land she tore down the past depictions of ragnork and re made them to include kratos since he did make ragnork happen like 100 winters early or something like that. This would explain the broken wall where kratos is seen held in the lap of Atreus. She was making the drawings in a rush and couldn’t complete the rest of the wall.

Pls go to the end of this specific “ theory “ I kinda debunked it 😔😔

Can tyre time travel??? I feel like I should remember something like this :/ In tyre tomb we see the Greek pot with kratos depicted on it , him and the blades. So I’m gonna guess this is by the time kratos is the new god of war ( 28 yrs old according to the wiki ) and ppl r worshiping him ( like how they worship all gods). If Tyre was alive when kratos was the god of war surely Tyre must’ve been young when he died since kratos is like what? 50? And Atreus is 10 or 12? So all of the messy shit must’ve happened when kratos was traveling to Norse lands. But that dosent make sense since everything is talked about as if it was forever ago. So... did kratos time travel??? Bc in game he thinks time travel is crazy but is somehow around for all dis other shit. Tyre being able to time Tavel dosent explain how kratos is so young in GOW4. Just remember kratos IS super fucking old and cannot die from old age despite not being immortal. If I remember right Zeus was like “fuck you

* stab *, now you aren’t immortal lmao “ .

:/ now this “ theory “ is very dumb, pls ignore 😌 don’t wanna remove tho so I can come back incase something else is reviled

Not really a theory , but I think Atreus is gonna have a good/ hero type arc. A lot of people r making it out for him to be evil and that makes a ton of sense seeing real Norse mythology, but I think kratos will be a better dad and instill some yummy good people traits into Atreus. This has no evidence which is why I’m not calling it a theory!

About the actual giant drawing itself , what if kratos is putting something into Atreus instead of Atreus bestowing something upon kratos? What if Kratos is giving up his life for Atreus? Not likely since the body is very weak obv .Another thought , what if Atreus is sharing knowledge with the corpse who I’m assuming is kratos even tho my only evidence is 1- Atreus sad and 2- beard. OOO what if kratos is gifting Atreus his god powers? Making Atreus Loki and the god of war( I guess the Greek god of war but beside the point ). So the world servant is Loki’s son. And the drawing kinda looks like the world serpent even though I believe it’s words and not a snake let me throw some shit out there. What if this is not kratos ( or is idc ) and Atreus is using the body as a vessel to birth the world snake? Maybe stealing the persons life to bring about the ending or ragnork in the form of snake ?

It might not be kratos on da wall. The skirt color is off , looks like he’s kinda wearing an eye patch ( unless his eyes were gauged out ) , and his missing foot. But you go “ it was smashed out! We can see it!” Perhaps not. If you look at the leg , the smashed bit is LINED!!! His missing leg is definite and inked , unlike the arm which was smashed out since it lacks the defining outline. I don’t know of anyone with a missing leg or is super close with Atreus that he’d be crying over it tho. Also , on the farther leg from us , it looks like on the inner thigh there is a tattoo, unless this is like a pouch idk if Kratos is hiding a sexy sexy leg tat. To add , we never see kratos shirtless in GOW4 , or without shoes or pants and in the drawing he’s both pantless , shoeless and shirtless.

This is also not a theory , just over thinking. What if Atreus never turned out to be a warrior? What if he took more of tyres path gathering knowledge and not fighting skill. Would kratos still love him? Faye WAS a warrior. Atreus eventually becomes very useful and is super strong by the end of the game since we murdered baulder together. But like... what if Atreus just didn’t? Does kratos love Atreus cause he’s his son or because he becomes capable? Ik I’m digging to far In but I love hurting myself with ‘ what if’s ‘.

[prismatales]

Darling, you send me

Word Count: 1.6k

Bingo slot: Pick up lines

Pairings: (Separately) Mirio Togata, Tamaki Amajiki and Shinsou Hitoshi X Reader

Tag/Warnings: Fluff, Cooking shenanigans

Synopsis: The guys walk in on their crush cooking and being an absolute 50's cutie!

Heres entry #4 of @bnhabookclub bingo event! Thank you @hawks-senseis and @wakaoujisenhime for helping me out with these headcanons! 

General:

Everyone in the dorm was either sleeping in, taking advantage of the weekend or had already left to do whatever they had pending. 

Training at the school’s gym, studying at the library, just having a walk outside, going shopping, you name it. 

Either way. It was the first time in a while that you finally had some free time. All of your homework was on track, no training with the teachers or any upcoming exams that needed you pulling an all-nighter.

You sighed happily a the thought of being able to relax for once. And what a better way to to enjoy it, than to use the spare time to play around with the beloved bird nest over your head, also know as your hair. 

Quickly you got up from the chair and went to the small bathroom inside the room to pick everything needed. The bluetooth speaker connected to the cellphone played some of your favorite tunes in the background while. 

Inside the small room, you could swear this hair had a life of its own, because no matter how many attempts were done to tame the beast, it would always find a way to become an absolute mess.

But finally, after a tedious battle against this fierce, rebel mane. You finally came out victorious and looking stunning! For once it wasn’t pulled into something that just helped keep it out of your face during training.

And hey, since we’re already on it, why not go all the way? 

Quickly you made a run for your cosmetic bag and began applying a fair amount of makeup, fine traces of eyeliner adorned your eyelids, accompanied by a subtle layer of mascara, lastly a pretty yet subtle shade of lipstick that complimented your skin just perfectly.

For the final touch, you pulled some clothes saved for special occasions, because hey, this was a special occasion after all, right?

There was this stunning 50’s themed black dress covered in white polka dots that’s been sitting in your closet for weeks now, the idea was to use it for a date, but since you were in the mood to look cute that thought flew out the window.

Once you got changed and looked in the mirror, the results was divine. It was almost like someone had used a time traveling quirk and sent you back into the 50’s.

Squealing happily by the final result, you couldn’t help doing a happy dance in excitement and began taking pictures of your work to put them on twitter. 

But then you saw the time at the corner of the small screen on the device, shrieking in surprise at the realisation of how late it was already. It was almost time for lunch and today was your turn to cook.

Fortunately there was still plenty of time to prepare the food. Grabbing the speaker sitting at the top of a shelf, you made way into the kitchen and grabbed the apron before getting started on today’s lunch.

As the ingredients were pulled out of the fridge to be prepared, the sounds of the knife making contact with the cutting board, oil sizzling because of the heat and the music from your playlist were combined into a captivating melody altogether. 

Add the view as the sunlight peeked through the window, giving the kitchen quite a scenario worthy of being captured in a picture. If instead of the high tech appliances scattered around, some of those old appliances were in their place, and the floor titles had that characteristic black and white checkered pattern, it almost would be like a scene out of those old movies your grandmother used to enjoy so much.

In fact, it was her love for those movies and everything revolving around the 50’s that you became enamoured by its aesthetic as well.

As you danced along to the soft beat of the music, one of your favorite songs began playing through the small speaker and being unable to resist the urge, slowly you began dancing quietly to the rhythm.

Totally unaware of the guy standing at the kitchen’s entrance, who was pulled in by the mouth watering smell of your cooking and ended up staying in place, completely mesmerized as the watched the little show in front of him.

Mirio Togata

Song: Cheek to Cheek by Ella Fitzgerald

By this point, everyone and I mean EVERYONE knew about Mirio’s crush on you. The guy wasn’t even subtle about his feelings to begin with, but it was only a matter of him confessing.

He was just coming back after taking a small walk and the reminder that today his crush would be in charge of cooking excited the blond at the reminder of just how yummy your cooking was.

Mirio was already expecting the delicious smell of veggies and spices mixed together in a saute and he made his way into the kitchen to see if you needed any help. 

But the sight before him left him speechless. There was a literal goddess before his eyes and he couldn’t help approaching you before blurting out a pick up line.

“Pardon me miss, but I couldn’t help noticing that you have beautiful hair.”

“Why thank you sir~” You played along with the smiling blond, giggling at his antics and his stories. 

Like that one time he was jogging and got so distracted that his quirk activated on accident, leaving him pantless in the middle of the park. 

The two of you were so distracted talking and laughing your hearts out while sharing silly stories from childhood, until a burnt smell filled your noses.

“Is something burning?”

“If there is, it’s probably ‘cause you’re so hot, that’s why.”

“Mirio, you--Wait! THE FOOD!”

Needless to say, you had to start all over again after burning the stir fry. But hey, at least this time there was someone helping out.

Tamaki Amajiki

Song playing: You send me by Sam Cooke

Tamaki had finished studying by the time he came downstairs and was pulled into the kitchen by the smell of Takoyaki, it was honestly surprising to think someone was preparing them for lunch, but he wasn’t complaining at all if the yummy smell wasn’t a clue of just how good it they had to be.

Taking a peek into the kitchen he did not expect to find you slaving over the griddle, making sure not a single ball of dough got burned.

All while singing that sweet song under your breath and quickly flipping the Takoyaki in the griddle, watching their rich golden color with satisfaction and a smile in your face.

Coincidently, you turned around right at the same time he spoke. How in the world did he get the courage to blurt out his thoughts about you? He wasn’t sure, but it took a lot for Mirio and Nejire to encourage him to try flirting with you for once.

“I-I didn’t mean to be f-forward but your hairstyle looks b-b-beautiful on you…!”

You actually blinked repeatedly, not believing what you just heard. Tamaki Amajiki, THE TAMAKI AMAJIKI FROM THE BIG THREE himself was giving you a compliment. The same guy that would freeze whenever you greeted him in the mornings, the same guys who turned as red as a beet the last time you were both paired up together for a school project.

“That’s pretty nice of you Amajiki!” For once rather than having a nervous fit, that smile made him feel at ease. 

Even more when you pulled a piece of Takoyaki in front of him.

“Say, since you’re pretty much an expert on takoyaki...Wanna give these a taste?”

This time he did go red faced. The girl he had a crush on? hand feeding him? Did he die and go to heaven???

Gulping silently he nodded, leaning forward and taking a bite of the treat. Eyes lit up in amazement the moment he fully savored the meal.

“What do you think?”

“...It’s perfect, just like you.” 

It was your turn to get flustered.

Shinsou Hitoshi

Song: All I have to do is dream by The Everly Brothers

Out of these three, Shinsou’s the closest to his crush, considering you’re always hanging out together, of course it was nice being friends...but frankly, he wanted to be more than just friends with you.

He came into the dorms exhausted, sweaty and famished. Training with Aizawa was usually so intense that by the time they’re done all he wanted to do was raid the fridge and rest for 72 hours.

All he came for was some nice, cold water and ended up witnessing a small show as he watched you give a small twirl in the kitchen with your hair and dress flowing gracefully around you.

That’s when you realized your dear friend -and maybe more- had been watching the little choreography.

Seeing him standing there with his arms crossed, smirking playfully as he watched you dance made you stop in your tracks, greeting the purple haired male happily as he walked into the kitchen.

“You clean up good, What’s the occasion?” He took a bottle of water from the fridge before taking a sip and leaning on the counter besides you, watching with interest at the piping hot seafood pasta.

“I just wanted to look nice! We’re so busy with training I rarely get the chance to do my hair nicely!” 

He didn’t think twice about complimenting you on the spot.

“You are a natural. You look great with any hairstyle.”

Shinsou caught you of guard for a solid minute, leaving you frozen in place and so distracted, tat you didn’t notice him stealing a bite from the pasta until you hear a hum of approval. 

He only chuckled when your turned in his direction and gave him an offended look.

“Did you just eat directly from the pan?!”

This time he couldn’t hold back his laughter when you began chasing him around the kitchen. It wasn’t his fault that he enjoyed teasing his best friend and crush every now and then, was it?

@bnhabookclub @gallickingun @godtieruwu @hanniejji @mysticalite @samanthaa-leanne @savagetrickster @shoobirino @bnha-ra @hawks-senseis @sugacookiies @wesparklebitch

[marvella15]

Astaire & Rogers Rewatch Part 6: Swing Time

• Swing Time aka the Astaire/Rogers film that I think is actually the best, especially from the dance perspective. Every duet is fabulous. You could watch just the duets and understand the entire plot of the film. That’s how well crafted and executed they are.

• Our characters/actors: John “Lucky” Garnett (Fred Astaire), Penny Carroll (Ginger Rogers), Pop (Victor Moore), Mabel (Helen Broderick), Ricardo Romero (Georges Metaxa)

• Is this the first Astaire/Rogers film where he’s the one engaged (or married) to someone else? It’s usually her. 

• Lucky is already ridiculously late for his wedding, even before he’s rushing to get dressed. But I love his little snap-and-a-heel-click. 

• How does Fred Astaire manage to look so dapper in shoes, a top hat, no pants, and a robe?

• It’s interesting that Lucky’s bride-to-be calls him John, rather than his nickname, which is tied to his gambling talents and therefore doesn’t fit in with her or her upper class family. But Penny only calls him Lucky. The two women even have a little exchange about it later in the film. 

• As usual, Rogers’ character is uninterested in Astaire’s upon first meeting and also as usual, she has a very good reason. She thinks he’s using any lame excuse to hit on her. Wow, look how much men have not changed at all.

By the way, 25 cents in 1936 is almost $5 today. Not saying it’s a reason to call the police but it’s at least not as outrageous as calling the police over a quarter. 

• Remember I said her cries for a porter in Gay Divorcee would come back? Here it’s reprised in her calls for an officer, which Lucky will also gently mock later just as Guy did to Mimi in the previous film.  

And wow, the officer is condescending and patronizing to her in deference to a man whom he thinks is an affluent gentleman. Look how much the police have not changed. 

• It’s odd that Lucky describes Penny as having red hair when Rogers was definitely a blonde (originally a brunette). Maybe she had strawberry blonde hair at this time?

• The tense exchange between Penny and Lucky as she teaches him to walk at the start of his dancing lesson is some of Astaire and Rogers at their acting finest. It’s a short, rather simple scene but they make it charming, funny, and entertaining. 

• Penny’s line, “If you’re trying to annoy me you certainly are succeeding,” is such a mood sometimes.

• Lucky, already starting to flirt: “All the world loves a dancer. Don’t you?”

• Astaire does a good job of acting like he’s a terrible dancer. Takes a lot of talent to pretend to suck at something you’re actually incredible at. 

• Pay attention to the three-step maneuver Penny teaches Lucky. He uses it as the building block for all of their dances in this film, beginning very soon with “Pick Yourself Up.” 

• I love the “Pick Yourself Up” duet so so much. As much as the romantic duets for Astaire and Rogers get a lot of attention, I really love tap dancing and this is one of their best tap routines. Plus, you can see Penny (thanks to Rogers’ intuitive acting) go from surprise to delight to pure enjoyment and maybe a little bit of well-deserved smugness. Also notice that Lucky and Penny are much closer together in this duet than they had been during the dancing lesson. They’ve already become familiar with each other in that short span of time. 

• Because of the nature of the scene, Astaire looks frequently at Penny’s boss but Rogers is watching Astaire almost the entire time. Her expression conveys the feeling that Penny has finally found the right partner.

• There’s a lovely moment where she glides back with her arms up as she waits for him and Rogers’ face is so full of joy and affection. 

• Astaire typically avoided naming a “favorite” partner out of consideration for the many other actresses he danced with. But he did comment that because of how well Rogers danced with him, “She got so that after a while everyone else who danced with me looked wrong.” And he’s kind of right about that. Swing Time as a whole is probably the best example. No other actress would look right in any of the dances they share in this film. 

• The moment of wordless conversation between Penny and Lucky after their dance feels very much like the actors themselves. In addition to having known each other prior to making films, they’ve also now spent the last 5 years working very closely together. No doubt they had some silent shorthand. 

• One of the reasons I enjoy Swing Time is because unlike other Astaire/Rogers films, the misunderstandings between them don’t emerge until later on, rather than appearing at the start to constantly obstruct their relationship. Here, Lucky and Penny begin their relationship almost right away. Just look at their cute conversation in front of the elevator where he hastily decides to get a room in the same building as her. 

• For the second time in this film, Astaire looks incredibly dapper while also being pantless. 

• At first it seems ridiculous that Lucky is picketing outside Penny’s room claiming she’s been unfair to him since he made them miss their try-out. However, he’s done everything to make it up to her, including arranging a new try-out for them, building up a sizable bankroll for him/them and Mabel, and, obviously, getting some new clothes. 

• Although they tried many things in Rogers’ hair to make it look like shampoo, I believe they landed on whipped cream at her suggestion. And they use it as a very convenient excuse to prevent yet another kiss. 

• Unlike other romantic songs in their films, “The Way You Look Tonight” is framed as a popular song of the time within the film itself. And we know this because Ricardo Romero is singing it in the next scene as part of his “romantic medley hour.” 

• Love the way Astaire looks at her during this social dance. So warm and loving. And when they leave the dance floor, he gets her attention at one point by hooking his index finger to the point of her elbow. Just little moments of familiarity between them. 

• More little moments: When Penny gets up from the roulette table, Lucky stops her until after the ball has landed, indicating he feels she’s good luck. Rogers is holding Astaire’s elbow as she goes to leave so he grabs her hand under his arm without looking. 

• I’ve always loved the look on Lucky’s face when he watches Romero approach Penny. It’s not jealousy or concern, necessarily. Just soft, like he’s wondering if his heart is about to be broken. And the music playing? “A Fine Romance”

• Lucky does everything possible to get Penny and himself the promised try-out including winning nearly $25k at the casino tables, then winning Romero’s contract, and eventually publicly goading Romero to play for them. But Mabel was right before when she told Penny that everything Lucky did was solely for her. He doesn’t need a new dancing gig, and had in fact come to New York to earn money as a gambler, rather than a dancer. That all changed when he met Penny.

• Remember a time when you were newly in love? The sheer elation of that feeling is what the “Waltz in Swing Time” is. It’s a celebration that builds on what was established in “Pick Yourself Up” and adds sweeping moments of romance. The three steps to the left and right move is expanded on first with outstretched legs and arms and later with exuberant movements around the floor.

• Right at the start, Astaire has a twinkle in his eyes when he looks at Rogers and she responds in kind. They smile at each other easily as they move through a fast-paced and breathtakingly beautiful routine. 

Usually in their films, a romantic and celebratory duet comes near the end when all of the misunderstandings have been resolved. But in Swing Time, it’s right in the middle. 

• There’s one moment where Astaire affectionately touches Rogers’ wrist. It almost looks as though he’s going to spin her towards him but instead they keep dancing separately, next to one another. 

• When the music kicks up, Rogers smiles broadly and she looks radiantly in love. As they spin together, tapping in a circle around the dance floor, both of them keep looking up in wonder and rapture. 

• They’re cuddling during the snowy scenes is very sweet but some of the romance is sucked out when you see the behind the scenes pictures. 

(photo credit)

• Cuuuuute:

Penny: “I like being off alone like this.”

Lucky: “You’re not alone. You’re with me.”

Penny: “Then I like being off alone with you.”

• Lucky’s face when he accidentally finds himself in an embrace with Penny is purely Astaire and you can fight me on that. There’s so much longing and want in that look. He’s able to get away with it because of the long moment before he has to say anything but even when he does speak, his voice cracks a bit. His gloved hand keeps stroking her forearm. 

• Not hard to see some true-to-life parallels in this dialogue and I’ve always felt that the way Astaire said his last line here was as himself, not just him acting. 

Penny: “It’s funny how we met, and all that’s happened to us since.”

Lucky: “The way we’ve been sort of thrown together and everything.”

Penny: “As if it were all meant to happen.”

Lucky: “It’s quite an experience.”

• Like I’ve said before, no way the actors and creative team didn’t know exactly how much they were trolling audiences by having lyrics like “a fine romance with no kisses” in Astaire and Rogers’ SIXTH. FILM. together where they still haven’t kissed romantically on screen. 

And in fact there will be at least two thwarted kisses in this sequence alone.

• “A Fine Romance” is quite scandalous when you pay attention to the lyrics too. Penny says Lucky won’t “nestle” or “wrestle” and she’s “never mussed the crease in [his] blue serge pants.” 

Rogers does a really wonderful job throughout. She’s frustrated and disappointed when singing at him and then stewing with hurt feelings when he sings to her. 

I’ve always loved how Astaire flatly says “cactus plants” in the lyric “you never give the orchids I send a glance, no you like cactus plants.”

• I always chuckle at the way Penny loudly and awkwardly asks, “HOW DO YA LIKE MY DRESS?” Who hasn’t suddenly gone awkward af in front of their crush?

• In the movie Grease, there’s a part where Rizzo has a hickey from Kenickie. According to Stockard Channing, actor Jeff Conaway insisted on giving her the hickey himself. But just in case you thought maybe Ginger Rogers insisted on leaving her own lipstick imprint on Fred Astaire’s lips, sorry to disappoint. A makeup artist came in and applied it. 

• And I adore how they’re both giggling and giddy after the supposed kiss. So much of this movie is about young love or your first real love, those butterflies mixed with terror and anticipation. 

• I always thought the club owner said, “Lucky, you’re a mess” after finding Penny and Lucky immediately after their first kiss. But he actually says, “Lucky, you’re on next.” Either way, Lucky’s dazed response of “Am I?” is cute. 

• Ok, the “Bojangles of Harlem” number. It’s the only time Astaire did blackface. It’s uncomfortable to watch even though he intended it as a tribute to African-American dancers Bill Robinson and John W. Bubbles. There’s also some very innovative use of 1936 special effects to make it look like Astaire is dancing with three of his shadows. Largely because of this, choreographer Hermes Pan was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Dance Direction. 

He lost but won an Oscar in the same category the next year, the final time that category was awarded, for a routine in Astaire’s only 1930s film without Ginger Rogers, A Damsel in Distress. 

• If Lucky had just let Margaret say her piece, he would’ve known that he’s actually not beholden to her anymore. But then we wouldn’t have one of the greatest dances ever put to film. 

• In all fairness on the kissing front, Lucky’s well timed entrance does prevent Romero and Penny’s kiss from appearing on screen.

• A heartbreaking exchange where they never break eye contact:

Penny: “Does she dance very beautifully?”

Lucky: “Who?”

Penny: “The girl you’re in love with.”

Lucky, meaningfully: “Yes. Very.”

Penny, after a beat: “The girl you’re engaged to. The girl you’re going to marry.”

Lucky: “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve danced with you. I’m never going to dance again.”

 • “Never Gonna Dance” is distinguished from the other songs in this film’s world because it’s not something that is also used in the dance studio or played by Romero’s band. Instead, it includes elements specific to these characters. The line “the la belle, la perfectly swell romance” recalls Penny’s line earlier in the gazebo. The reference to “dinner clothes” harkens back to Penny and Lucky’s first day together. The repeated use of the word “penny,” transforms in its final iteration to being her name when Lucky sings, “Though I’m left without my Penny.” The whole song is Lucky’s elaboration on his line above. Nothing matters now, not his clothes or money or dancing. All he’s going to do is love her. 

• The music of the dance and many of the moves are pulled from previous songs and dance numbers. A fittingly mournful version of “The Way You Look Tonight” plays as they walk together, which is also how Lucky began his dance lesson with Penny. Later, “Waltz in Swing Time” trumpets in to propel them into that same three steps move again but as euphoric as they were in that previous dance, now he is almost desperate and she is slowly letting him go. “Never Gonna Dance” is a compilation of their entire romance from start to heartbreaking finish and it’s a truly stunning duet. I know “Cheek to Cheek” gets a lot of hype, and it’s deserved, but “Never Gonna Dance” is something extra special and is certainly tied with “Waltz in Swing Time” as the best Astaire and Rogers duet in my book. 

In keeping with how much Swing Time breaks the tradition of Astaire/Rogers films, “Never Gonna Dance” is the duet where Astaire is trying to woo Rogers’ character, something we typically see earlier in the film but was never needed here. It’s also very tragic, something we almost never see in Astaire/Rogers films. Even “Let’s Face the Music and Dance” had a hopeful tone. 

• Their expressions in this number are especially poignant. He is imploring her to stay while she is gazing at him as though drinking him all in because she knows this will be the last time they’re together. While he is concentrating on pouring everything into the dance, she is memorizing every detail of this last dance with him, even watching him when he can’t see her. I know I talk a lot about Rogers’ acting ability during these dances but it never stops being worth mentioning. No other partner of Astaire’s got it the way Ginger Rogers did. 

• Thank god they cut this dance into two pieces so that they only had to perform this last bit again and again by itself, rather than having to start from the very beginning each time.

After two films that included “issues” with her dresses, Rogers this time has an issue with her shoes. Or rather, they did so many freaking takes (47ish) that she bled into them. And supposedly she didn’t complain at all because she was just as committed to getting the dance right.

She does the majority of the tough work in this final piece too. Not only is she spinning quickly and frequently, in the final spin she has to move towards where he waits, rather than him coming to meet her. 

Some credit to the level of trust they’d built though, Astaire’s arm is always ready well in advance of when she will spin into him. 

• Even as the duet is ending, Astaire keeps his face longing and hopeful. Lucky has done everything to win her back and as they move towards the door he thinks he may still have a chance. But in their last embrace where he holds her tightly to him, she tellingly doesn’t return the gesture and leaves both of her arms raised. When she exits, he grimaces as though his heart has truly been broken. 

• The ridiculous overacting when they’re all laughing is 🙄🙄🙄. Did the Joker unleash some laughing gas?? The silliness of this ending takes away from the rest of a truly excellent film. 

It also reminds me of the silliness of the beginning. If I had to guess, the writers probably had a great middle and no clue to how start or end things. At least, it feels that way.

• I do like how she sings a reprise of “The Way You Look Tonight” about him while he sings a reprise of “A Fine Romance.” And they go in for another kiss, pause, then embrace with his back to the camera because GOD FORBID we see a single dang kiss between these two!

Though I am left wondering just what Astaire and Rogers were doing in the final embrace because their faces do seem awfully close together...

• Swing Time is probably the last exceptional Astaire/Rogers film. Everything after this doesn’t quite measure up except in a few specific instances. That said, I do enjoy many parts of Shall We Dance, which is next. 

[american-satanxx]

Animal in Me//Chapter 8

Author’s Note: This chapter a mild sexual situation. It’s very mild. Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Masterpost

tag list: @SCARECROWMAX @KINGNIAZX @LEATHERANDHEELS @IJUSTWANTTOKISS70SROGERTAYLOR

My Cat Is Purring, It Scratches My Skin

I’ve spent two weeks with the boys of Motley Crue and I can honestly say, I’m going to miss them when I head back to L.A. Tommy has become my best friend. Mick keeps my grounded. Vince is slowly becoming less of a pig in my eyes and Nikki… I honestly can say Nikki is not who I thought he was. He’s sweet and caring when he wants to be and a total wild child, any other time. He might be the one I miss the most. “Two more weeks then you are free from our debauchery.” Vince announces has he holds us a red solo cup filled with God knows what. “What are you going to do without us?” “Live a rather boring life.” I chuckle. “I’ll write the article and edit it and send it to Rolling Stone and hopefully you get more coverage and more fans. And after that, I’ll move onto the next band.” “But you’ll never love that band as much as you love us.” Tommy adds with a smile. “Admit it. You love us.” “I’m very fond of you guys.” I admit aloud. “My life is going to be very boring without you guys in it.” “Do you really think you can get rid of us that easily?” Nikki asks as he puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to his side. “You’ll never be able to escape us Summers. You’re stuck with us until the day you die.” “Really now?” I look up at him with a smirk on my lips. “Who says?” “I do.” He says, sounding very confident. Or maybe just very cocky. “Remember we know where you work.” “But you don’t know where I live.” I point out. “I could easily work from home, you know?” “Brad will give us your address.” “You’re sounding very confident Mister Sixx.” I point out, the smirk on my lips growing. “There are easier ways to get in my pants, you know that.” “Nothing about you is easy.” The smirk on his lips grows more as well. “Glad you understand that.” I push away from him and get up off the couch. “Wake me up when we get to the venue.”

“You’re officially in his trap.” Doc says as he walks up to be at the beginning of Motley Crue’s set. “And Nikki knows it.” “Nikki also knows I’m not exactly easy.” I point out. “I’m starting to think he likes the challenge.” “He’s going to get bored.” Doc warns me. “He always gets bored. Once he beds you, he’s through with you.” “Well it’s a good thing, he’s not going to bed me.” I smile. “I’m not that kinda girl. He knows that.” From that point on, I ignore Doc and just watch the guys work their asses off on that stage. ** “How’s the road treating you?” Brad asks a couple days later when we get to a hotel. “I can’t wait to read that article.” “They aren’t as bad as I thought they were going to be.” I admit. “They’re pigs, don’t get me wrong. But they’re tolerable.” “They’re not giving you too much shit are they?” “No, they’re not.” Suddenly there is a knock on the door, which is probably my room service. “Hey I’ve got to go, my food is here. I’ll call you when I get back in L.A.” “Stay safe, Aria.” I hang up the phone and go to the door. Opening the door, reveals someone that isn’t room service. “You’re not room service.” Nikki just chuckles as he leans up against the door frame. “And you’re not wearing pants.” He points to my pantless legs. “Nice panties. You didn’t strike me as a red lace kinda girl. Or a fan of Pink Floyd.” He points to my oversized t-shirt. “And you look amazing without makeup.” “How high are you?” I ask moving aside to let Nikki in. “What brings you to my room this late, Mister Sixx?” “This.” Is all he says before closing the space between us and crashing his lips on mine. He slowly backs me up against the door and his hands down to my thighs and make their way to my ass. He squeezes my ass, signalling for me to jump. I jump up and wrap my legs around Nikki’s waist as he shoves his tongue into my mouth. My fingers tangle the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging at the hair. Nikki groans and grinds his hips against me in response. “You’ve been driving me in-fucking-sane these last two weeks.” He growls as he pulls away and leans his forehead against mine. He grinds up against me once more. “You have no idea.” “I think I have a slight idea.” I chuckle as my hand travels between us and grip the bulge between his legs. He groans before crashing his lips against mine again. He holds me close to him as he moves us from the door and move this little party to my bed. He drops me down and immediately pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. I look up at him, with a smirk, I grab him by the waist of his skinny leather pants and pull me down until our lips once against meet in a hungry, searing kiss. His hands move up and under my Pink Floyd shirt. Just as a calloused hand cups my right breast there is a knock on my door. “ROOM SERVICE!” The voice on the other side yells. Nikki pulls away laughing as I gently push him off me. “What the hell Summers?” “Food is more important, Sixx.” I smirk as I get up off the bed to answer the door. “Are you staying or going?” “I can’t exactly walk the halls with this.” He points to his bulge. “Plus I could use some food too.” “Just stay away from my chicken tenders!” I laugh before opening the door. Room service just looks at me with wide eyes as he comes in with the cart of deep fried goodness. He tries so hard not to stare at my bare legs and the shirtless rockstar on my bed. He practically runs out of the room, causing me and Nikki to laugh. “Poor boy.” I comment before pushing the cart close to the bed and plopping down next to Nikki, sitting Indian style as I pull the cart even closer. I lift the lid off of my one of the platters to reveal my sweet sweet chicken tenders. I squeal before picking one up and taking a big bite, moaning at the taste. Nikki, alongside of me just groans. “You’re not playing fair, Summers.” I turn to look at him, with a smirk on my lips. “You knew from the moment you met me, I wasn’t a girl that played fair.” “You’ve got a point there.” He smirks before stealing one of my chicken tenders. He takes a bite, smirk still on his lips as he chews the very thing I told him not to touch. “You’re an ass.” “You love it.” I hate it when he’s right…

[angrylizardjacket]

compound regret {Nikki Sixx}

Summary: You’re always the one cleaning up after Motley Crue, that was your job. You didn’t expect an apology, or anything really, but some reassurance that they liked having you around, that they didn’t just think of you as some hard ass or buzzkill would be nice once in a while. Except when that reassurance comes around, Nikki doesn’t exactly remember giving it. In fact, he’s worried he’s told you something far more incriminating. 

A/N: 2701 words. @yourqueeniac sent me a message about Douglas!Nikki and honestly the writing demon reached through the screen and possessed me I guess. this is not the direction i thought it would go.

“Fuck,” Nikki wakes up in the middle of the afternoon on couch seat at back of the tour bus, his stomach lurching as they’re speeding down the highway. He doesn’t remember how he got there, just knows that he needs to get to the bathroom before everything he drank last night ends up on the floor of the bus. You’re almost knocked flying where you’ve come to offer a bottle of water in his mad dash for the bathroom, while Vince and Tommy are already laughing, and Mick takes the now vacated space, opting for a nap in the sunlight.

“Good morning!” You sing, loud and purposefully off key to the obviously hung over musician, and though he tries to tell you to shut it, he can’t get the words out before he starts retching into the toilet. You seem... far more cheerful than usual, well, compared to other mornings where one of the band members wakes up puking and drenched in sweat and regret. 

By the time he staggers back out, looking marginally more human and alive, you’re thankfully drawing close to the next destination, and he’s just glad he’d managed to sleep through most of the travelling, because what little he has left already feels like hell. 

“How do you feel?” You ask sweetly, sitting at the table beside Doc, who’s reading the paper and pointedly not looking at Nikki. The bassist is confused for a moment, frowning at where you’re smiling so brightly up at him, obviously pleased, though the reason as to why is a complete mystery to him. 

“Like I never want to drink again,” Nikki grumbles, taking a seat beside you, reaching for the half empty bottle of whiskey on the other side of the table anyways, ignoring the water you offer him. 

“You smell like a dumpster, which is surprising since you didn’t even throw up on yourself last night, how do you do it?” You smirk, your nose wrinkling a little, but you seem amused by this more than anything else. Doc huffs out a laugh but doesn’t look up. 

“How the fuck should I know?” Nikki unscrews the lid of the bottle and flicks it at Doc, who dodges out of the way easily. He takes a long sip. “The fuck even happened last night?”

“So you don’t remember drinking that rocket-fuel vodka shit and declaring yourself King of Hell?” You give him the biggest shit-eating grin as he grimaces and takes another swig of whiskey. “I’m pretty sure you’d already gone hard on the zombie dust so I don’t blame you.” 

“Fuck,” Nikki grumbled again, averting his gaze. That sounds very believably like something he’d do, though he must have drunk a lot more than usual to have him knocked out for so long, and for him to have received such a metaphorical kick to the balls the moment he woke up. And that still didn’t go about explaining your cheery mood, you, Doc’s long suffering assistant who often had the unpleasant job of wrangling the rowdy stragglers of the band into bed when they found themselves, on the off chance, sleeping by themselves. 

So he’s pretty sure you’re the reason he’d ended safely back on the bus, but by the sounds of it, he’d made you work for it- so why weren’t you hating his guts like usual after a night like that?

“You’d make a terrible King.” Mick interjects from the back of the bus in all his deadpan seriousness, though when you chance a look back at him, he’s got one eye cracked open, smiling ever so slightly.

“Fuck you,” Nikki snaps back, holding his head in his hands. 

“’be a great King of the Jackasses, maybe,” Doc adds, and turns the page of the paper. Nikki doesn’t even have it in him to reply. 

It’s five, around the time they get to the next tour stop and they’ve checked into the hotel for the night, that that a sinking suspicion creeps it’s way into Nikki’s heart. 

He’d said something.

He must have. The secret he’d been keeping essentially since the first moment on tour, when he’d begun to spend time in close proximity to you, the stupid little crush that had been festering away in his heart since you and he had joked about while carrying a pantless, passed out Tommy to bed after the very first gig. Last night, Drunk Nikki must have said something. 

On paper, it sounds like it would be a good thing, except that Nikki was well aware that he would be profoundly disappointing in a romantic capacity, despite what his heart wants. He knows his self control is garbage, and that he’d end up screwing up somehow, in any number of various ways, and god he loves the way you’re smiling right now, but he can’t help but fear it’s from false hope.

“You okay? Everything sorted and ready for tonight?” It’s like a routine, everyone gets their hotel rooms set up before heading to the venue for the night, and you, like clockwork, would always go around to every room and make sure each of the boys was sorted.

“Did I say something to you last night?” Nikki asks, sitting at the edge of his bed, frowning with a surprising intensity. To your eye at least, he’d managed to mostly recover from the morning, and you stepped into the room.

“You said a lot of things last night,” it came out amused, but did nothing to quell the nervousness in Nikki’s chest. 

“Like what?”

A long pause follows and you step into the room, letting the door shut gently behind you. He’s looking at his hands, can’t bring himself to actually turn his gaze upon you, but when you finally speak, your voice is surprisingly soft.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” And as you say it, he can feel the fear rising in him, finally looking up to where you’re regarding him with a look of concern. “I was trying to convince you to put your pants back on,” already a bad way to start a story potentially about feelings, Nikki considers, and you continue, “and I apologised for being a hardass and a buzzkill-”

“You’re not.” Nikki’s response is automatic, and his heart lifts as your expression automatically brightens.

“Yeah, that’s what you said then.” There’s a silence that follows, and your regarding him with an almost fond sadness, lips parted like there’s something else you want to say, but you seem to think better of it, just giving him a small smile. “You did insist I stay with you, which I did; I didn’t realise you were a clingy sleeper.” You half laugh, and Nikki feels himself turn red, averting his gaze once more. 

“Why the bus? I had a room-”

“You lost your room keys, and honestly it was just easier.” You shrugged. After a beat, you took a deep breath, smiling brightly at him. “So you ready for tonight?”

The show goes great, goes incredibly, screaming and cheering from the fans, lights blinding overhead, a mind almost whited-out with pre-show blow, and his body’s on autopilot as he plays to the adoring crowd. But there you are, side of stage, cheering and beaming and all he can think about. 

Something about your conversation earlier had been playing in his mind, you’d been telling the truth, but part of him knows it’s not the whole truth, and something tells him that it’s part of the truth that you’re keeping hidden that’s making you smile so bright, that’s responsible for the new, relaxed set of your shoulders.

The surprise, however, comes when you’re at the after party; he knew it was your night off but you usually spent it catching up on sleep. But here you were, chatting with some groupie, a drink in hand, looking like you’re actually enjoying yourself.

Nikki tries not to bother you, to let you enjoy yourself without the thought of your work looming in the background. He manages for about an hour, maybe a little less, but eventually he spots you heading for the door and he’s moving without thinking; if you’re leaving, he needs to say something, even if he’s not sure what. 

“Are you- you okay?” He’s surprised when the words stumble out of his mouth, and you seem surprised to see him there at all.

“Yeah- I- do you need anything?” Brow furrowing, you step towards him where he’s still holding your wrist. It’s immediate, despite the buzz you’ve got going on, your mind immediately snaps into work mode, worrying about him even when you don’t need to. It endeared you to him without you even realising.

“Sorry,” he frowned for a moment, trying to get his words together in his mind, and your expression was already softening, “about last night and everything; I don’t know what happened.”

“You’re a rockstar, you don’t need to apologise, it’s part of the job,” you try to alleviate his stress, hand coming to rest on his chest, though the contact surprises him.

“That’s fucked- that’s fucked up. Like I know we do fucked up shit, but to not expect an apology? Fucked.” He finds himself rambling, and he sees on your face that he’s just drunk, spouting the first thing that comes to his mind, “What else did I say to you last night?” His thoughts then come to an abrupt halt as he watches you for an answer. 

“Doesn’t matter, Nikki-” you try, but he’s frowning now. You just seem... tired.

“Yes it does, okay, I’m worried that I told you I love you or some shit and I don’t wanna fill you with false hope or any garbage like that!” The words spill out too fast for him to stop them. “I was out of my fucking mind, I just-”

“You told me you were grateful to have me around.” You scowled, wrenching your hand from his grip. “That’s all.”

He watches you go, weaving through the groupies who had spilled out into the hall, and something about it has his heart sinking. He tries, god he tries to enjoy the after party, but his drunk mind is traitorous and decides to now discover the concept of guilt, and drown him in it.

When he knock on you door, you ask who it is, and immediately tell him to fuck off once you find out who it is.

“It’s an emergency.” He tries, and he hears your loud, begrudging sigh, and then footsteps, and then the sound of the door unlocking.

“What?” You sigh; you’re wearing pyjamas, specifically an oversized Motley Crue shirt and little silk shorts.  “It’s my night off, Nikki, what’s the emergency?” You raise an eyebrow at where he’s giving you a surprised look over. He’s got half a bottle of whiskey in his hand. “Go to bed,” your voice is gentle but you go to shut the door anyhow.

“You’re good to me; better than anyone like me fuckin’ deserves,” he starts, and already your breath is caught in your throat. It’s moments like this, affirmations that the rockstar you’d come to adore actually spared you more than a passing thought, might actually like having you around, instead of the just thinking of you as the nuisance that tried to make him sober up and put on pants, that made you feel a little warmer inside, as stupid as that may sound from the outside.

The thing is, it’s not that you’re blind to the bassist’s exploits, quite the opposite in fact, but there was a small part of you that had developed feelings for him, for the almost admirable way he tries to prove himself to be hardcore, to the softer, goofier side you only saw brief glimpses of when he didn’t try so hard to be the person everyone thought he was. 

You were under no illusions regarding who he was, you wouldn’t trust him as far as you could throw him; you’d spent too much time with him to think differently, but your heart had been traitorous from the outset.

In all honesty, you knew why he’d said what he’d said earlier, about false hope, both of you too self aware to expect this to go well for more than a day or so before something terrible happened. And you knew he knew this too.

But he’s here, in your doorway.

“I’m paid to clean up your messes, Sixx,” you try, but you step back into the room, gesturing for him to come inside.

“You and everyone else on tour,” Nikki rolls his eyes, “none of them care half as much as you.” He paused, closing the door behind himself and leaning against it, watching as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You didn’t have to stay with me last night, anyone else would have just told me to fuck off, handcuff me so I couldn’t get away,” and he’s got you there.

“I am too good to you,” you’re still trying to keep up your annoyed front, but it’s crumbling quickly, “shouldn’t you be at the after party?”

“Thought I’d cut out the middle man, come to you instead of getting you to pick me up from some gutter in a few hours.” He’s smiling a little at that, taking a swig from his bottle. Part of you wants to argue that it’s your night off, but you both know his assumption is fairly spot on. You can’t help but laugh a little, shooting him a look that is both somehow exasperated and grateful. 

His answering smile has relief at the edges, and he steps forwards, putting the bottle on the counter of the kitchenette, and walking around to flop down on the empty side of the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“Why’d you really come here?” 

He looks at you, frowning slightly, hesitating like he doesn’t want to admit the reason, perhaps breaking his tough-guy with no real feelings facade.

“Felt bad seeing you leave like that.” It’s far more honest than you were expecting, which must show on your face because he’s smirking. “I don’t feel bad about a lot of shit so you must be a special case,” and oh, okay there’s a fluttering in your chest and he’s grimacing like he regrets admitting that much.

“I suppose you’d probably collapse if you started feeling regret for everything you should,” you half laugh, and he makes a noise of indignance. But then you’re laying on your side beside him, propped up on your elbow, grinning at him. “Hey, can I -?” You’re gently holding his chin, just enough that his gaze meets yours.

“Should I regret this?” He asks, a scoff in his words, but your grin just widens in response. 

“Should I?” You tease in response, and he can’t keep up the annoyed act, his expression turning to a cheeky smile as he props himself up, out of your grip and into your space. He’s so close to you, you can see the smudge of eyeliner still around his eyes, black streaks across his cheeks where he hadn’t managed to wipe all of his makeup away, and you can’t help but smile softly at the sight; it’s surprisingly humanising. And he likes watching the way you smile.

“Probably.” He snickers, but that’s when your gaze meets his, surprised and bright in equal measures, but he leans in. He tastes like whiskey, and something else a little heady that you can’t quite place, perhaps a fruity cocktail, maybe the remains of some pills or tabs he’d had once the show had ended; he tasted like something you knew you should regret, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“We all like having you around,” he grins sharply, pulling back, “but me especially.” 

“You’re such a suck up,” you rolled your eyes, laying back against the bed and huffing out a laugh, as if trying to come to terms with everything that was happening. And then he’s shifting to hover above you, still smiling, though it’s fond this time.

“Is it working?”

The way you pull him in to kiss him again is answer enough.

[harryforvogue]

How did Valentine’s go for Mia and harry when they were still in a sub/dom relationship? I know harry was reserved and very dom so I was just wondering if they ever actually did anything for Valentine’s since it’s a day for couples and not necessarily what they were? And how did they spend their first v day as an actual couple? Thanks!!

hey, remember when this was supposed to be a blurb?

here she is! enjoy!

**

Mia’s very cautious about this whole “Valentine’s” thing because from the few months she’s known Harry, just as a person, she knows he’s not all about the festivity surrounding love. As the day grows nearer, he makes no move to mention it or even tell her what his plans are for that specific week because he’s still in London where’s he’s been since her spring semester started. Give or take, it’s been about a month since she’s seen him, however nearly daily facetime sessions and phone calls fill the void she’s missing. Still, the week of the holiday arrives and there’s no word from Harry if he’s coming to Manhattan again.

Usually she’d ask, however his initial plans late last year in December were purely due to the relentless pestering she’d put him through from her side. He’d taken Christmas week off, but she’d convinced him (forcefully) to stay an extra two weeks. Granted, he spent some time talking to him father about his abrupt leave, however he eventually gave in. It was also because she refused to let him get up the morning he had his flight, sitting on his back because he slept on his stomach, tugging on his hair when he tried to get out of bed.

There’s four days left until Valentine’s Day, and her suspicions about him thinking nothing of this bogus holiday are confirmed when she slyly mentions her roommate’s plans for the day. She’s sitting in her pajamas on her bed, knees pulled up to her chest, her head laid down on her knees watching Harry dress for work considering it’s pretty early there, but it’s also nearing 2 am here.

He’s not in the frame right now, buried in his closet, but he can hear her.

“So, my roommate’s boyfriend is coming over on Valentine’s Day,” she starts after the conversation ends about her exams coming up. She was hoping he’d offer to fly over and help destress her, but all he gave her was a sad face and a lecture of excellency. “I fear they may fornicate in my bed.”

She hears him chuckle. “What makes you think that?”

“Because she said she doesn’t have clean sheets and he’s kind of a freak about cleaning. Sort of like you.”

He returns to the frame and raises a brow. He’s pantless, clad in just tight black boxers and an unbuttoned shirt. There’s no way she’s looking at his face. “That’s not true. I’m reasonable with it. Not my fault I’ve got a messy sub.”

She pouts, crossing her legs and pushing her glasses up her nose. He smirks and walks off.

“A sub who you haven’t seen in almost a month,” she adds, shrugging.

“Also not my fault.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You were insinuating it.”

“Whatever.”

He returns again with a simple black tie around his neck, still pantless. “So while they’re gone, what will you do?” His laptop is perched on his bed so he has to bend down to look at her properly. She enjoys the view.

“I’ve been meaning to go to this bookstore. I’m gonna write my final on Ernest Hemingway.”

“Why? Wasn’t he a shit person?”

“Yes,” she pauses to push her glasses up again, “but I’m not writing about him. I’m writing about the author.”

“Aren’t they the same person?”

“No.”

“Explain.”

“When he wrote, it was like a different person was writing. All writers are romantics, but not all writers are assholes, sir.”

“I’d have to disagree with you there.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“You know I like being right though.”

She smiles, scrunching her nose. “As do I.”

He holds her eye contact briefly before narrowing his eyes and letting a subtle smile spread over his face as well. “I’m gonna put some pants on.”

“Do you have to?”

He only chuckles and shakes his head, disappearing again. When he’s back, he’s wearing his dress pants and he’s buttoning his buttons on his shirt. He tucks the white shirt into his pants.

“What are your plans for Valentine’s?”

She meets his eyes quickly, but they don’t look like they’re teasing. He’s asking a genuine question.

She answers nicely, “Nothing. Maybe I’ll spend some time in the library or something.”

“Doesn’t sound like fun.” He’s struggling with his tie, tightening it too much because he’s not looking down at it. He’s maintaining eye contact with her through the screen. Then, he asks, “If I send you a plane ticket, will you come over for the weekend?”

Her heart stops beating for a second. “Are you messing with me?”

He looks shocked. “What do you mean? Why would I mess with you? I figured you might want to get away from the New York snow.” He pauses, licking his lips. “Do you not want to come?”

“No, I do!” she hurriedly says, bringing her laptop closer to her. “I just didn’t think you’d ask. I know you’ve been busy and I’m pretty sure Valentine’s Day isn’t your sort of thing…”

“It doesn’t have to be Valentine’s thing. It could just be you and me. Spending time together unrelated to the day.” He’s finally figured out his tie and he’s out of her sight to probably grab his socks or shoes. “If you aren’t busy, of course. I do understand that midterms are coming up.”

“I’m not busy,” she tells him with a shake of her head. “But I don’t like that you’re going to pay for me.”

“I buy you stuff all the time.”

“You don’t buy me plane tickets.”

“What’s the point of having money if I can’t spend it? Amelia, will you come or not?”

“But, I bet it was so–”

He leans down into the frame, giving her the look he usually does when she’s about to annoy him. “Yes, it was expensive. No, I will not let you pay me back. Will you come?” He bites his lower lip, watching her carefully for a few seconds before she nods and he relaxes. “Good.”

She buries her head in her knees. “I’m good.”

“You’re my good girl.”

She smiles. “Yours.”

**

Harry’s waiting patiently at the airport, calmly check the time on his watch and then looking back up for Mia. She’s supposed to walking towards him any second now.

He’s taken the day off work, something that surprised her, wearing a regular black shirt, blue pants, and the vans Mia had bought him for Christmas despite insisting he didn’t need anything from her. Regardless, he thinks the least he can do for her is dress in something she likes.

When she finally arrives, she spots him before he sees her. He’s not looking where she’s supposed to be coming out from, and suddenly, the amount of emotion she’s been suppressing and the yearning feeling she has comes out. She’s a good hundred feet away from him when she releases her suitcase and runs over to him.

She collides with his chest with a thud, and he groans quietly as her arms wrap around his waist tightly.

“Hi, sir,” she mumbles against his shirt, inhaling his rich scent.

“Hi,” he says, rubbing her back. “How was the flight?” His voice is wonderfully deep and melodious in her ear.

“Fine. I just woke up.”

He feels both her hands touch his back. He glances around her to reach for her belongings, confused when he finds none. “Where are your bags?”

“Over there.”

He picks his head up to look at her sole brown suitcase in the middle of the floor. He doesn’t say anything about it, sighing as she holds him tighter, humming lowly, “Alright.”

She releases him slowly, looking up at him. She glances at his lips and then his eyes for permission. He seems okay with it, tilting his head down to connect their lips. Mia eagerly kisses him, her hands bunching up his shirt behind his back.

When he pulls away, he presses his lips to her forehead and then points at her suitcase. “Go get that and let’s go back to mine.”

“Okay. Just…hold on,” she insists, refusing to uncoil her arms from around his narrow waist placing her head on his chest. His heartbeat and is slow and softly pounding in his chest, a heartbeat she’s slowly getting very used to. She retrieves her bag and rolls it over to him. He begins walking to the exit and he’s got his phone in one hand, the other swinging besides her. Shyly, she sends her suitcase into her opposite hand and gently touches his fingers with hers. When he doesn’t pull away, she takes his hand and laces their fingers together. Now all of Heathrow knows they’re involved in some way.

With a smile on her face, she lets him lead her to the exit. However, when they arrive at the double doors, he releases her hand to push the door and then doesn’t make an effort to reattach their hands. She tries not to let it hit her too hard however, because she’s in London with him, with no distractions or people demanding his attention.

He leads her to the car and allows her to sit while he shoves her suitcase in the trunk. This is the first time she sees him driving and she knows it’ll end her just when he sits in the driver’s seat and starts the engine.

He’s attentive on the road and when she isn’t looking around outside, she’s watching him turn on his blinker, check both ways, check the mirrors, change lanes…

“So what are we doing today?” she asks politely, hands in her lap.

“I was thinking we could do some training first,” he says, lowering the music coming from the radio, “and then I could show you around London.”

She scrunches her nose. “I thought we were done with training.”

“Well, you did bite me last time.”

Her face heats up as she gasps. “I didn’t mean to!”

He smirks. “I know, but still. But, it’s not only a training for you, remember. It’s for me too.”

“We’ve been training for months though. Why can’t we take a break from it?”

He sends her a sideways glance. “And do what?”

Mia shrugs. “We can go out to dinner. Or you can treat me to your favorite take out and we can watching a movie or two. Maybe make out a bit. Sounds like fun, no?”

He stays silent as if he’s considering it, but his next words make her realize he’s actually trying to find a way out. “So we’re gonna celebrate Valentine’s Day?”

She shrugs again. “It’s up to you…” she says, looking out the window. She places her chin in her palm, causing her words to be mumbled.

“Amelia, you know I hate when you don’t speak up.”

“I said it’s up to you, sir. I’m okay with some training too.”

He switches lanes, still in thought. After passing an exit, he says, “Are you tired? Or hungry?”

She tells him that she’s a little sleepy, but it’s nothing coffee can’t fix. He decides she should rest before they train or head out. He drives smoothly, she notes, laying her head on the window as she continues to gaze at him, fully aware that he knows she’s watching. He doesn’t say anything though, simply ignoring her as he drives.

It isn’t until a few minutes later when they are closer to his house when he glances over and sees her eyes closed, quietly sleeping. He smiles, accelerating a bit.

Harry doesn’t bother waking her up. The slams of the doors are quiet as he steps out, walking over to his front door. He unlocks it and lets it swing open. Then, he hurries over to her side. He opens her door strategically so she falls against him. He places his arms under her legs and holds her up against her chest.

He gently lifts her and shuts the door behind her, holding her tight to his front.

She stirs and brings a hand up to knuckle at her eyes. When he locks his door a little roughly, she raises her head, peering around her.

“Just taking you upstairs,” he tells her calmly, nearing the stairs. “The bed’s pretty comfy so I’m sure you’ll sleep well.”

“Hmmm, you’re a nice dominant, aren’t you?”

He chuckles. “I try my best to be.”

He enters his bedroom, gently placing her in an upright position on the bed, moving away so he could pull the duvet back. He bends down to his knees and begins removing her shoes. She watches him with sleepy eyes.

He tucks her into bed afterwards, making sure she has a pillow to her side to cuddle with, and although she wants him to slither in besides her, her eyes grow heavy and she’s unable to request it. Harry turns away when he eyes shut, biting his cheek. He places his finger on the light switch, checking over his shoulder once more.

He falters, taking a deep breath before turning around and he begins to unbutton his shirt. He lets it slip from his body to the ground and walks back to the bed. He draws the covers back and gently lowers himself onto the mattress.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, draping an arm around her waist, bringing her into his chest.

She latches onto him when her sleep is taken away from her, nestling into his bare skin when she relaxes, sighing softly. “Thank you.”

***

**

*

Harry’s body isn’t next to her when she wakes up. No, it’s hovering over her.

She feels his curls tickling her neck, and she opens her eyes when his wet lips graze over her collarbones, a hum escaping her throat. She brings a hand up and tentatively reaches for his face, cupping his jaw.

He lifts his head up and looks at her, and when his curls touch over her cheeks, she notices they’re wet.

“You showered?” she asks quietly, peering up at him.

In response, he nods, droplets of water falling onto her cheek. “Yeah. You hungry?”

“I’m not even awake yet.”

“Your eyes are open.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Oh, Amelia,” he sighs, ducking his head down to nip at her neck again. He presses his body against hers, forcing his hands under her waist to hold her closer. She wraps her arms around his neck and allows him to place half his weight on her body, laying between her legs. As always, he takes her wrists and clasps them together, holding them above her head.

She spreads her legs so he can wedge a thigh between them, feverishly kissing her skin. He holds her wrists in one hand as he uses the other to slowly raise her shirt, a warm palm splayed over her stomach, tickling her skin as it continues further up. She squirms when his fingers reach her ribcage, legs opening a bit more.

“Mmm sir, you’re going so fucking slow…”she swears softly when he places a hand over her sternum.

“Did you just swear at me?” he mumbles in her ear, picking his head up to look at her.

She shakes her head, stilling. “No, it wasn’t at you.” She raises her hips in desperation.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, removing his hand, holding her waist down. He places his hands under her and shoves her closer to him, swiftly turning her around before she has a chance to object. He climbs off of her and rests on his knees besides her. He lands a harsh smack on her ass. “Y’know I hate when people lie to me.”

“Ow, that hurts,” she whines, trying to turn back around. “I didn’t even do anything wrong. I’m barely awake, you beanstalk.”

He hits her again, harder, and she jolts, laying her head down on the pillow. “I’m not hearing an apology,” is all he says, smacking her other cheek.

“No, I didn’t do anything wrong!” she insists, a pout on her face. She groans when he lands another slap on her bum. “Ouch!”

“I’ve spanked you harder than this.”

“Ow! You’re only spanking me because you’ve missed my cute butt.”

“Is that so?” he hums, lifting her shirt up. He pulls it over her head and discards it somewhere. He presses his hands against her back, massaging her softly. When she purrs, he spanks her again.

“Stop that!”

He doesn’t answer, raining smacks down on her bum evenly until she’s squirming again, frowning into the pillow. After a few seconds he pauses, rubbing her jean clad bum softly. He checks to make sure she’s alright before beginning again, holding her wrists tightly behind her back.

When the spanking starts stinging and she can’t handle it anymore, she whimpers, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

“For what?” He ignores her, continuing the smacks.

“For swearing at you!”

“You won’t do it again?”

“No!”

He releases her, letting her turn back around and look at him with slightly annoyed eyes. She isn’t given the chance to say anything as he lunges forward and presses their lips together, eagerly sucking on hers. She sits up, humming when he runs his hands over her bum, kneading lightly. There’s a small tear by her eye that he wipes away when he draws back, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You’ve been here not even three hours and you’ve been punished once.”

“I don’t think I deserved it. I’d like to appeal on that spanking please,” she whispers against his mouth, bringing him back for another kiss. “Are we going to train now?”

He cups her cheeks, shrugging a shoulder. “Have you eaten?”

She shakes her head, opening her mouth, hesitantly sticking her tongue out. He understands and places his thumb in her mouth, letting her heat engulf him. He watches how her lips wrap perfectly around his digit.

“How ‘bout I fuck you a little and then we’ll order some take out?”

At his words, she freezes, eyes half lidded and brows lifted. A smile spreads over her face. “A little?” she asks, his thumb on her tongue.

He nods. “We’ll see if I want you to come or not.”

She pouts. “But I just took a spanking.”

“You’ve taken worse than that.”

“A punishment is a punishment.”

He licks his lips. “We’ll see,” he repeats, gently removing his finger from her. “For now, I want you to undress to your knickers alright?”

He stands up and adjusts himself in his trousers, enjoying the way her eyes land on his bare chest.

“Where are you going?” she calls to him as he turns away.

“To get some lube.”

“Will I be restrained?”

“No.”

She watches him leave and then unclasps her bra, standing up to shove her jeans down her legs.

“Am I going to like it?”

“Yeah.”

She grumbles something else, sitting back down when she’s done what he’s said. He doesn’t return until a few minutes later, holding the bottle in his hand. He discards his shirt and unbuckles his belts, slipping it off. She watches with excited eyes, biting her lip the more his body is uncovered to her.

He climbs into the bed and pushes her back until she’s flat on her back, looking up at him curiously. He hovers over her again. His hands are low on her waist, eyes trained on her face instead of her body.

“You’re pretty,” he says quietly, leaning down to kiss her cheek sweetly. “Pretty pretty girl.” Her heart is sure to beat right out of her chest due to his words, not his actions. One of his hands dips into her underwear. He continues, “Do you want me to be on top or would you like to switch for today?”

She really can’t figure out if he’s being serious. She’s never really asked him if she can be on top, however it was purely because she knew she wouldn’t be as good as him at it. She shakes her head and whispers, “You, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” Then, he presses his lower half against her outstretched legs, convincing her to spread them a bit more to fit against her properly.

“Noise?” she asks breathily.

He looks at her, biting his top lip in thought. “You’re allowed to make noise.”

“Touch?”

A smile spreads over his face. “Please do.”

Her hands come up to cup his jaw, running her thumbs over the tops of his cheeks. His eyes flutter shut at the feeling, nose scrunching a bit when she runs her finger on the bridge. When his green eyes stare back at her a few minutes later, he leans down to kiss her breathless, pushing her hips against his firmly. There’s no escape for her, not here, not ever when she’s in his bed or in his arms or in his presence. When it’s only Harry and Mia, it’s only ever them. Nobody else could wedge themselves between them, there’s not enough room for any doubt or fear.

He drags his lips torturously slow down to her neck, snapping the band of her underwear once.

“I was thinking,” Harry begins in a deep voice, licking over his lips before kissing her neck again, “given the holiday, we’d ditch training and try something more…vanilla.”

She almost giggles at that. “Vanilla? Like normal sex? Are you able to do that?”

Harry growls against her skin. “Don’t make me change my mind. I’m going easy on you. I know it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you.”

“Wouldn’t have to be like this if you’d come over more often.”

He lifts his head up, curls ruffling. “You know it’s not my choice, right?” His eyes are semi desperate. “I have a job that means a lot to me. You have school. I’m making do with what I have.”

“I know,” she assures him, wrapping her arms around his waist, craning her neck to press a solid kiss on his lower lip. “I’m not blaming you.”

“Good,” he says, dipping down to kiss her again and again. His hands roam over her back, moving back just momentarily to slip his sweats down his hips, raising his hands afterwards to let her finish the rest.

Slowly, his thigh ink is exposed to them and her fingers run over the tiger, smiling up at him fondly when goosebumps arise on his skin. With puckered lips, she presses a kiss to the soft skin.

Then, she’s on her knees on the bed, sitting upright. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

He nods, reaching for her again immediately. His hold on her is rough and in some way rushed. She places her hands over his on his waist and pats them to let him know to ease up his hold a bit, but he doesn’t get the clue, drawing her in for a bruising kiss.

“You’re going to have to be a little nicer than that,” she tells him quietly, peppering kisses down his neck. “How long has it been since you’ve had plain, boring sex?”

He opens his eyes. “How long have you been my sub?”

“About 5 months.”

“Okay add a year to that.”

“Yikes. You’re a psycho.”

He gives her a pointed look. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” she corrects herself, “a complete psycho.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic. I’m a little out of touch with it…so what? I still know what I’m doing.”

“Alright.” He places his hands on her waist again, squeezing a bit gentler than before. When she makes no move to correct him, he continues, bringing her in for a soft kiss. Tenderly, he suckles on her bottom lip, humming contently when her hands cup his cheeks, tilting his head slightly.

She touches the tattoos below his collarbones fondly, bringing the kiss to venture lower, pressing her swollen lips to both of them slowly, causing a sigh to fall from his lips. She meets his eyes briefly before setting back down, laying flat on her back.

He hungrily looks at her figure ready to be devoured by him, his hands impatiently reaching out to grasp her hips and yank her down a bit. She yelps and a smile spreads over both their faces, her eyes shining as she gazes up at him. Wordlessly, she tells him she’s ready.

Harry slowly pushes her legs open and lays in between them, making sure his clothed center is firmly pressing against his and unmoving, making sure she can feel every pulse and twitch his prick gives. She groans quietly at every little movement, her mouth reaching his again, this time slipping her tongue past his lips, tasting him breathlessly.

He grabs her chin with one hand and pushes her head to the side, eagerly sucking at her neck and kissing her pulsing vein over and over until she’s bucking her hips against his, whining for more friction.

He decides one hickey is okay for now, however he fully intends on adding to the collection when he gets the chance to bind her later. The bold blossoming one on her neck is enough for him to become fully hard, moving away from her just for a split second to grab a condom from the drawer besides them. She whimpers at his speed and the way he holds her legs open with a knee as he sits up and brings his boxers down his thighs, expertly rolling the condom onto his length.

“You look so fuckin’ good,” he growls, bringing her back down to him swiftly, rubbing the inside of her thighs to relax her. He dips a finger into her heat and presses it in slowly, watching for face intently for any sign of discomfort.

They haven’t really found themselves in missionary position a lot, so she can’t help it and be a little shy when he bends down and presses a wet kiss to her sternum, focusing back on her face when he draws back, adding a second finger carefully. Everything about him is so enticing: his desire, his gentleness. It’s far different than anything she’s ever noticed with him.

“Doin’ alright up there?” he asks nicely after stretching her for a few seconds, removing his fingers easily. “Do I need to stop?”

“No, sir,” Mia replies breathlessly, shaking her head. “It’s really good.”

“Say your safe word if you need to stop.”

She arches her back. “I will.”

He lines himself up and impatiently pushes in, savoring the gasp emitted from her body when he’s half way in, the way her eyes screw shut amusing him. He reaches over and grabs her hand, pushing them against the pillow her head lays on, pushing them into the mattress.

“Oh…” she sighs, throwing her head back when he’s fully inside, taking her bottom lip into her mouth.

Harry’s usually not very vocal during sex, she’s noticed, she takes the liberty of making enough noise for the both of them, however to make sure he’s having a good time, she opens her eyes. He stares down at her with piercing green eyes, sight locked on hers intently. He bends down to kiss her cheeks.

At a certain rough thrust, she pulls away from his mouth and groans in pleasure, grabbing onto his neck. She pushes herself up against his chest, breathing heavily. “Fuck!”

“Shhh, let me take care of you,” he mumbles lowly in her ear, his hands travelling down to her hips, the warmth spreading throughout her body. “Is it alright? Know it’s been a while.”

“It’s good,” she insists quietly, burying her face in his neck eagerly. “S’a good burn.”

“Don’t let me stay away from you for so long next time.”

“Is it okay for you?”

“Never worry about that. It’s always good for me,” he tells her, rubbing his cheek against her forehead to signal her to raise her head. When she does, he lays a heavy kiss on her mouth. “You’re always wonderful to me.”

He gathers her in his arms and forces her to lay on her back so he can get a good look at her. Her lips are red and still inviting and the mere sight of them makes him pick up his pace, grabbing her face roughly between one of his hands, squishing her cheeks together. She gasps at the sudden hard treatment, but closes her eyes nonetheless and enjoys the pleasure shooting through her body. After all, Mia deserves this after weeks without this wonderful man fucking her as if his life depends on it.

The more noises the slip out of her lips, the more aroused he seems to get and soon enough, he’s snapping his hips against hers, pushing his prick inside of her over and over until she’s unable to form coherent words, her eyes rolling back and finally he begins to let out a few grunts. If she hears correctly, he tells her, “You’re so beautiful.”

When he tires out, he pauses for a few seconds, rolling his hips gently, softly even to calm himself. She looks delicious and ready to bite into with her head thrown back and her veins showing. His hand twitches and he reaches forward to wrap a hand around her throat, something she loves.

But, his hand stops when she opens her eyes and looks at him intensely through her tears, and as he continues to feed her small thrusts, he notices the light on her face return.

“You like it slow,” he whispers, dropping his hands to the mattress. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

She nods in confirmation, mouthing an answer.

“Should have told me so,” he continues, giving her a reassuring smile. “After all, it is Valentine’s Day.”

If her heart had begun to beat just a bit louder, he would have been able to hear it.

She looks cute, gazing up at him with the most innocent eyes. He almost feels guilty for tarnishing her. 

“I like both.”

He chuckles. “But I can tell which one you like more. Let me know next time, love. Yeah?”

She nods wordlessly back and he laughs once more, laying his head on her shoulder, breathing her in. His hands are much more gentler now, making sure she’s alright. He begins to kiss her neck tenderly, moving his hips slowly, filling her up to make sure she feels the burn. Her hands come up to grapple at his back again, clutching him close to her. She lays her own cheek against his little ear.

The next few moments are silent except for their heavy breathing. He likes the way her nails dig into his skin every time he enters her and the tremble of her fingers when he draws out. There’s a part of him that wants to turn her over and fuck her until she’s pleading with him to let her release, however she’s enjoying this very much. He can tell when he raises his head every few seconds, positive there’s never been so much pleasure written out on her face.

In response, he pushes his arms under her body and holds her torso firmly against his chest, letting her rest against him as he does the work for her.

Not much time goes by when she murmurs, “Can I please…sir, can I…”

“That’s not how we ask, is it?”

She whines. “May I, sir, may I come?”

He nods, giving in to her easily as he tightens his grip on her, pressing his nose into her hair. “Go ahead.”

She closes her eyes and tries to concentrate on the feeling, however both her and Harry know she needs a little bit more. Harry knows it very well, but he wants to hear her say it.

“Sir,” she starts again, frowning. “Could you help me out a bit?”

“Of course. Tell me what you need,” he replies politely and almost mockingly. “Tell me.”

“You know…”

“I do not,” he plays along. He lets out a breathy moan afterwards when she clenches around him. “Keep squeezing me like that.” She listens and does as he says, licking over her lips. “I’ll let you come first if you tells me what you need.”

“Um,” Mia sighs blissfully, opening her eyes look at him. He hovers over her, arching a brow. “I need you to touch me.”

“I am touching you. What more do you need?” The reply is followed by a grunt and it throws Mia off, and she peers at his face to check if he’s annoyed or irritated in any way.

“Nothing,” she says, defeated, hoping she’ll just be able to come from penetration. She falls quiet, holding him still tight against her.

Harry can’t help but laugh. “We’ve got to work on that.” He sticks his middle finger in his mouth, coating it generously before removing it and placing it directly above where he’s ramming himself in over and over. He rubs over her most sensitive area. Harry holds back a moan as her legs twitch and a choked sound falls from her lips, and she immediately climaxes.

Her nails dig painfully into her back, however he barely feels a thing because after she finished, his own high hits him and he groans into her neck, biting her collarbone as he continues thrusting himself inside of her.

Both well spent, he removes himself and glances down at her. She still attached to his body like a child, kissing at the birds again. He sighs and cradles her head close to him, kissing her hair endearingly. “Okay?”

“Really okay,” she whispers back, releasing him slowly. He smiles and watches her wipe her face clear of any tears. Then, she finally looks at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he says back, pushing her hair away from her face. “Want me to run a bath?”

She doesn’t even consider it for a split second. “No. Could you just stay here for a minute?”

She runs her fingers over the marks she’s made, pouting at them. He shakes his curls onto her face to let her know it’s okay. He nods and ducks his head to kiss her lips gently. He rolls over her and lays on his back, inviting her to cuddle with him. She lays her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“You can have more than a few minutes,” he whispers into her hair, tightening his arms around her comfortably. “You can have anything you want.”

They both wordlessly agree that their version of Valentine’s Day is the best version. 

[yuusaris]

Pantsless? In MY Chili’s?

It’s more likely than you think 

- - - -

On the night shift as a janitor, Rhys finds himself babysitting a pantless, drunk Jack.

A/N:  Joined a Rhack server. Wrote a thing. I’ve been off my mood sabilizers for a week and I churned iout 3600 words that I turned into 1945 words trhanks to the help for @tepperz, love of my life, salt of my earth, please enjoy the thinge

“Do you know who I am?”

Rhys doesn’t want to.

He never wanted this. He’s here because he needs a job through college while his parents pay tuition but not his rent. He’s here to ‘build character’. He’s here because he didn’t get any job call-backs in his field, but Chilli’s did call him. He’s here at midnight because some asshat eavesdropped on his phone call to Vaughn after the interview while Rhys waited for his Lyft (because it’s bad taste to drive a Lexus to a low-level job interview).

And he’s a janitor instead of a waiter because his nosey manager sucks.

And he’s here, right now, at midnight, two nights before his midterms, answering the door for a crazy, pantless drunk person asking Rhys why he’s not being served his food (because they’re closed) and if he knows who this crazy pantless drunk person is.

“No, I don’t,” Rhys answers because he has a personal policy of not knowing crazy, pantless drunk people. “Sir, we close at 11.”

“I know what time we close,” the crazy person sneers, “and I also know I told you to get me a seat.”

“We’re closed,” Rhys insists.

“Well, you’re not closed for me,” the wasted maniac in front of him rambles, fishing in his wallet (which he drops with an “ah, shit”) for what Rhys thinks is gonna be a bribe until the drunkard suddenly smacks the closed glass door with a small piece of paper.

It is not a bribe that Rhys sees pressed against the glass, under the palm keeping the man upright. It is a business card.

                                             Jack Clarke

                              President of Brinker International

                             Maggianos, On The Border, Chili’s

Fifteen minutes later, Jack Clarke, boss to end all bosses, orders the Texas dry-rub ribs and demands the honey-chipotle sauce on top. He also orders a slice of paradise pie, loaded mashed potatoes mixed into a cup of chili, the Carribean seared shrimp salad ‘with none of the salad crap’, and a party platter of roasted street corn.

Oh - and a pitcher of water. Because he’s ‘trying to sober up’.

"You know that all our chefs are gone, right? And that I’m a janitor?" Rhys asks as neutral as he can manage. “I can maybe get you our appetizers,” he offers as an alternative, because everything else needs to be made by-hand and it’s midnight and all the chefs are gone and he's not even a waiter and he is not getting paid enough for this and also doesn't know how to cook.

“That’s right,” Jack says, after a bit of thought, “you can," and adds Texas cheese fries to his order.

It takes a while. Rhys needs to turn the lights back on, get the stove going, get the ingredients together which involves unwrapping everything he needs, defrosting things, and checking over whatever recipes are on hand because he was not trained to cook. Jack complains about it, loudly, from his seat the entire time when he’s not complaining about the plastic booth seating sticking to his bare, hairy legs that Rhys is trying to ignore.

Rhys gets the feeling Jack won’t mind the paradise pie and cheese fries coming out together, a feeling confirmed when Jack spears a fry with his fork, cuts a bite off the pie, and  sticks both of them in his mouth at once.There’s a hum, but Jack pauses suddenly. He takes another fry, chews a bit more thoughtfully.

“The fries are supposed to have ranch sauce on them,” says the drunken dictator.

It’s one in the morning and Rhys has been in this building for ten hours already so it’s understandable that he takes a second to process this statement. He then takes ten more to swallow his reaction to the negging. And another ten to think of something inoffensive to say in the face of a piss-drunk, pantless president.

“I’m a janitor,” Rhys repeats, patting himself on the back for his restraint. Jack doesn’t even look up. He’s slumped onto his one elbow while his opposite hand forklifts more food into his mouth. “I didn’t find any ranch, I didn’t make any ranch, it--”

“Doesn’t change the facts,” Jack says around a bite of solid jalapeno slices. Rhys focuses on the wall to ignore the bits of food that came out when he spoke. “Texture’s gross.” With that, he picks up the paradise pie slice, ignores the ice cream he’s smeared on his hand as a result, and bites into it. “And the pie’s cold.”

Rhys’ thinks about how his business degree couldn't come fast enough.

“It’s supposed to be cold.” Rhys measures his words as carefully as the sauce in the kitchen. “That’s why the fudge is hot--”

“Not this cold.” Jack cuts him off again and shuts down Rhys’ retort with “Where’re my ribs?”

Commendably, Rhys does not say that the only ribs Jack was getting tonight were the ones already in his chest, and Rhys could put those on a plate if Jack wanted ribs so goddamn bad. He doesn’t say this for two reasons: one, he needs this job. And two, Jack has hands thick enough to wrap all the way around Rhys’ neck if Rhys even tried to lunge for him.

Two appetizers, an entree and a party platter served later, Jack tells Rhys to “Pop a squat, kiddo.”

Rhys isn’t sure he heard that right, and decides to pretend he heard nothing at all.

“Enjoy your meal.” That’s what waiters say, right? “I’ll be back to check on--” “I said,” Jack says around his rib, “sit.”

So, Rhys sits. Rhys watches Jack pull the meat off the bone in his hand, surrounded on all sides by a wall of food.

“This’s better,” Jack says, wagging the rib in the air.

“Thank you, sir,” is all Rhys can think to say.

“Worked those stoves before?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s against policy,” Jack’s leaning on both elbows now, dropping the empty rib to grab another. “Could make you a cook.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Rhys blurts. Realizing what he said, he adds, “I mean, I’m fine where I am. Sir.”

“I can call. Vouch for you.” “Don't do that.”

Jack shrugs and buries his teeth into the meat again. “If you say so.”

Rhys shifts uncomfortably and dares to ask, “Are you sure you don’t want a to-go bag?”

“Do I need to smack you with my business card?” Jack asks, snapping a thick, focused stare at Rhys who jumps with a “no.”

“‘S’what I thought,”  and resumes eating.

Rhys grinds his teeth in lieu of biting his tongue - if his irritation gets that far, he’s in trouble. But at least I wouldn’t be feeding some plastered narcisists ego, Rhys thinks, bitterly, calm down, you own fucking Chili’s.

The quiet keeps on for a few minutes, until Rhys decides he needs something to keep him awake. “What…” he starts, but trails off.

Jack looks up at him, having switched to the potato-chili slush-cup he’d demanded.

“What.. happened to your pants? Sir.”

Jack swallows his bite. “They came off.”

“...Of course,” Rhys closes the question, “Why didn’t I guess?”

“We can’t all be me, kiddo--”

“Thank go-” Rhys coughs and fumbles to finish with, “...Odd. Odd nickname. Could you not... call me that?”

Jack pulls his finger out of his mouth, having sucked it clean. “Well whadda want me to call ya then, hm?” Before Rhys can answer, said fingers come up and reach for Rhys’ name-tag, pulling it closer to Jack. Still buzzed, he leans forward even more to read it. Rhys smells alcohol, but also sugar and a hint of salt.

Margarita man? Rhys wonders, never judge a book, I guess.

“Rays,” Jack reads.

“It’s Rhys,” says Rhys, pulled forward by Jacks gesture as much as his tag.

“Listen, Rhyz-its,” Jack waves him off, letting go and settling back, “I’m not an unattractive man.”

This conversation took a turn.

“Y’know what they call me?” Jack picks up another rib. “At clubs? Back in college? At fuckinnnn...” Jack’s snapping as he thinks, “Everywhere?!”

“A nudist?” Rhys says, slowly realizing he is, indeed, trapped with a nudist.

Jack sneers, like an asshole. “They call me Handsome Jack… see that? Well, don’t judge it. It’s cold in here. I’m chilly.”

Rhys pauses to recover from the conversational whiplash. “Yeah. You don’t have pants on,” he says, slowly.

“Oh, yeah,” Jack agrees, mouth full, “I needed a new belt. But that’s besides the point. The point is, Rhysie, I could get anyone I wanted on this dick. Any time I wanted, I could have a person there. The power is having people want your dick in the first place. That,” he leans back proudly, “...that is the beauty. Of having power.”

“Power equals laid. Got it.” Rhys says. Jack groans and his hand hits the table.

“Options, Rhysie, options! Choices, alternatives, possibilities.”  Jack jerks closer, jumping on his own words, “Do you really wanna spend your life being a janitor in my goddamn food chain?”

“Yes. Every day,” Rhys says flatly.

“You’re not here for your winning personality.” Jack rips the last of the rib meat off with his teeth and throws the bone on the floor. He grabs the pitcher and over-fills his glass. “If I could make a list,” he sets the pitcher down, “of all the absolute babes I’ve had riding me cowgirl--”

He cuts himself off at that, no longer chewing. He looks pensive.

Rhys follows his empty stare, confused. “...Jack?”

He snaps up, “Huh?” Jack swallows before Rhys can reply, reaching for the shrimp. “Point is, you can hitch up with anybody when you have enough power.”

“Why do I get the feeling that didn’t go so well for you tonight?” Rhys aks.

Jack pauses mid-bite, eyes directed on Rhys.

“...I’m just noticing a… possible outcome here,” Rhys smiles.

Jack sighs, slumping back into his seat. “Even power has its’ low point. Rhysus, raggy.” “Just Rhys--”

“And sometimes that low-point is getting dumped by your girlfriend who decides she doesn’t hate your ex-girlfriend anymore,” Jack tosses the water back (Rhys thinks he’s pretending it’s another margarita) and gulps a breath of air. “In fact,” he slams the cup down, “she’s decided your ex isn’t so bad, really not so bad.” Pours another glass. “In fact, your ex is so not-so-bad that your girlfriend's gonna just - saddle up with her while you’re drinking at her bar , right after the breakup.”

Rhys keeps to himself. Jack glances to him and continues, “No, you’re fucking right, I can get free drinks in any country on the fuckin planet or I could take a fucking private jet to get a decent Mai Tai, and it’ll taste even better now.”

“What does that mean?” Rhys asks himself softly.

“‘Just not working out’ my ass,” Jack grumbles on, “Must’ve been such a fuckin’ bore having some goddamn luxury for once.”

Rhys struggles to find common ground and says, “...Power can’t make people love you, I guess.” Is that the moral here? Is that what Jack’s getting at?

Probably not, because when Rhys says that, Jack stops again. He eyes Rhys, chewing the thought as slowly as the fruit he slips between his lips. “...No,” Jack says finally, surprisingly calm, “it can’t do that.”

A quiet moment passes.

“It can’t do that.” Jack repeats.

The buzzing stress in Rhys’ tired skull dies down, the kinetic energy of Jack’s personality slowing to a lull.

If nothing else, that seemed to sober him at last.

Jack looks him over one more time before distracting himself with his utensils. “You’re a good listener.”

“I’m more of a hostage right now than a listener,” Rhys chuckles into his hand.

Jack scoffs, almost affectionate. “You’re a good hostage, then.”

Rhys watches the corner of his lips tug, for the corners of his eyes to crinkle, and understands why he’s called Handsome Jack.