#or maybe Paul's... fits either way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chocsra · 2 months

Text

✧ "Salvation; Devotion"

16! stormbringer! Chuuya x fem! reader

✧ summary: being targeted by paul verlaine after being chuuyas friend, though when he comes to talk to you with a european detective, it seems to be more than friendship. ✧ content: small oneshot, fluff, angst (kinda), adam + angsty teenagers ✧ w/c: 1.4k

Chuuya - meaning "loyalty, devotion"

Nakahara - meaning "central plain"

His devotion was not only his strongest attribute, but his most tender weakness.

You knew a boy. He was young and short, but fiery and strong. He was mysterious, born with unknown origins, and walked the wrong path, that's why he's not only humanity's most destructive weapon but a lowly, pitiful, criminal.

It was something you weren't, though you didn't mind much.

But under the guise of celestial imperfections, Chuuya was a constellation falling into place. He was beautiful. Sunkissed with the kind of foreign beauty you’d see in actors that would play some sort of prince. Your first examination of him was his wealthy and neatly ironed clothing—the kind of blazers and shoes that you’d find in a modelling campaign. Even the accented cuffs of his clothing were underlined with emerald or other precious stones. Then, his silky russet hair, one thrown into a low ponytail—the hairstyle itself still retained a strong masculinity despite the length. Or maybe that came from the musky cologne he constantly wore. A hint of cigarettes, strawberries and that strong scent of virile.

The soft glow from his copper locks then shifted to the fitted collar around his neck—an odd fashion choice, but it really accentuated the ivory of his skin. Soft, sun-kissed skin that’d make its way to his face. A beautiful face, really. Delicate and angelic features with a permanent scowl tugging on his lips—soft pink lips. Chuuya's eyes reflected a fine smoky quartz. His cheeks and nose kissed with a few scattered freckles.

You wondered why a boy so sublime had the status of an onerous beast. Even he took the words that held the weight of a blade and cut himself until he was reduced to the slit of a knife.

You met that same boy, a masterpiece ripped at every edge, not in the dangers of the mafia, but where a silver line stretches to the sea. Where the sun meets the sky, where the light shines.

But even then, you treated him differently. You didn't treat him like he was something fragile. Neither did you treat him like the monstrosity he was sought out to be. You didn't worship him, nor did you greatly depend on him. Instead, you found his humanity and treated him as such. Once a stranger, then a friend, then..

Nevermind.

"Chuuya?!"

You heard the calamity of each step he took to reach you, the boy stopping to pant. "[Y/N].. we need to talk." next to the redhead, was a tall European man with short brown hair, he didn't look tired at all compared to Chuuya. "Greetings, my name is Adam Frankenstein." You cocked a brow at his monotonous voice, the way his mouth moved didn't seem in sync with his words either. "You're rather special, Master Chuuya spent almost 7 hours looking for yo-" Adam explained briefly, causing the redhead to grimace and cut him off, "Shut it, will ya?!"

...

You heaved a bothersome sigh, elbows planted on a cafe table as the two men sat in front of you. "So.. why do you need me, Chuuya?" you question, fiddling with your fingers, "And who's he?.." your gaze uplifts to the brunette foreigner, which the man carefully takes a pack of gum and begins to unfold it, popping a piece in his mouth, before swallowing it. Your eyebrows furrow in a moment of youthful distaste.

Chuuya clutches the cup of tea between his gloved fingers and murmurs something intangible, "Adam's a detective from Europole, investigating Verlaine. He wants to know more about him, which is why he's been following me around.." he finally explains, taking a calculated and almost frustrated sip of his tea.

"Verlaine. Who's Verlaine?" You ask momentarily, causing the redhead to part his lips to answer, but you quickly halt as the detective swallows another piece of gum down his throat. "And why is he chewing gum like that?"

"That's what I'm sayin'!" the teenager half-seriously slams the cup of tea on the table, "He swallows it like a nutjob. You need help, tin man." Chuuya scoffs, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat almost nervously.

"You need help. You spent 6 hours and 47 minutes looking for h-" the brunette explains with a hint of sass in his voice, the redhead's eyes widening in shock, "I said shut up!"

You shuffle in your seat awkwardly as the two men argue. Scratching the back of your neck before Chuuya finally settles down, patting down the cashmere of his suit.

"So here's the thing about Verlaine.. he's this batshit crazy assassin, and uh.. here's the real kicker.." the mafioso mutters, fiddling with his gloved fingers uneasily. "You're gonna be the bait."

Your jaw immediately drops, a hand clasping over your chest in the offence. "Excuse me?! For what?.. to get killed?!" Chuuya looks distressed at your response, seeking Adam's gaze for at least a little help in his later response.

"Your safety is ensured. We just need to lure Verlaine out, so Master Chuuya can eliminate him." the detective explains rather calmly, fishing for something in the pocket of his suit before handing a chocolate bar to you. "Here, sugar helps with stress." the redhead smiles awkwardly at Adam's response, giving a nervous thumbs up.

You snatch the chocolate bar with a bit of attitude, eyes narrowing to Chuuya as the boy inhales sharply, "I thought I wouldn't get involved in your mafia affairs, now I have to die?" you ask with furrowed brows, anger cracking in your voice. Causing the teenager to gulp in slight fear, a rare sight to Adam, as he's never sensed fear from Master Chuuya. Especially to a young girl like you.

"Well, you won't die... More like, almost die." The detective explains, hoping he'd ease your nerves at least a bit. "Doesn't matter! M'not doing it!" You shout in vexation, hopping up from your seat as you pick up your school bag. "Plus, I couldn't if I wanted to, anyway," you murmur,

"Wait.. why?" Chuuya asks with conviction.

your gaze adverts to the different sights in the area: the park bench, passersby, and the cafe's menu. Anything but Chuuya's confused face.

"Uhm.. I have a project that's due tomorrow, and I didn't start yet."

"You can't be serious!"

The teenager runs up to you in frustration, you clutch your bag as you turn to him. "Oh, but I am!" you remark, walking faster as the brunette detective catches up. "I'm very serious! After all, this is a serious project!"

The redhead pants and wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead, "You're really gonna prioritise a school project over your own life?!" he cries out, still trying to catch up to you.

"Anything is better than being bait for the Port Mafia!" You yell out, settling your argument atop a bridge, ignoring how the sun was starting to set in an arrangement of oranges and pinks. "Shit- Don't say that so loud!"

"I'd rather finish a school project than become bait for the Port Mafia!!"

You repeat again, louder this time. Chuuya pinches his nose bridge in frustration, tilting his head up towards the setting sun. And upon you halting your swift steps, the redhead finally catches up to you, and to your surprise, he grabs your hand to spin you around.

"Look, I had a shitty week too!" the boy lets go of your hand, making you huff a little bit. But instead of letting you go, he cups both of your cheeks and pulls you close, his gaze never averting from yours. "People that mattered to me died, so many of them," the teenager explains, a melancholic glint lingering in his pretty eyes, you could see it all from the close proximity of his face. "and I'd do anything for you to not be one of those people."

You gulp hard as your eyes scan over the glass of his eyes, the once stormy grey now welling holding back tears.

Silence.

Adam clears his throat, standing beside you and the mafioso awkwardly, "Apologies for interrupting. But this whole exchange is very childish. Master Chuuya, don't you think there are better words to articulate your romantic feelings towards [Y/N]?.. Perhaps after this all over, you can solve this by getting into a relationship-" you and the boy both retort at the detective in unison:

"Shut up, Adam!"

...

"Okay, I'll help you." you frown with conviction, "You owe me a school project, though."

The redhead presses two fingers to his glabella, "I'll send someone to complete it for you."

✧ chocsra™

taglist for those who interacted in this post:

@loserzai @juice1231 @silverbladexyz @soleelia @cherylpoptarts @jackiepackiee @sapphire-tears013 @sstarshroom @n0thum4ny @roujira

453 notes · View notes

justarandombrit · 2 months

Text

Wrote all this down ages ago but forgot to post it anywhere, so here you go:

I was just thinking about how cool it'd be if every main character in TGWDLM was linked to one of the Lords In Black, and then I started properly considering it.

Pokey, Blinky and Tinky are all obvious. Paul, Bill and Ted. If you know anything about Hatchetfield lore you'll get this.

Then, I thought, “Well Nibbly doesn't really have any sort of ‘special guy’ like the others, since he just eats whoever becomes Honey Queen, without having any real attachment. I guess there's Roman Murray, but he's just a member of The Church Of The Starry Children, he's not specifically linked to Nibbly, and anyway, we're talking about TGWDLM characters.

So. Which main character of TGWDLM is most linked to Nibbly? Oh, I don't know, maybe THE ONE LITERALLY CALLED SWEETLY?!?!?!?

Yeah, I settled on Charlotte. It was mainly because of her last name, but I do think she fits Nibbly’s whole cutesy eldritch horror thing he has going on. Also pink.

That, of course, leaves one main character left for TGWDLM. Emma Perkins.

Even though this is only because I decided all the others first, I think it works pretty well. Emma, as we know, absolutely fucking despises capitalism. So, her being linked to the literal embodiment of capitalism actually makes a lot of sense.

Think how goddamn climactic it would be if Emma was the one to defeat Wiggly. Realistically speaking for the future of the series, if the Lords In Black ever do truly get defeated, it's either going to be by General MacNamara, Lex or Hannah, or, most likely, Miss Holloway or Webby, but imagine if it was Emma. Emma Perkins, who once described her business model for selling pot as “Raging against the capitalist patriarchy… in, like, a chill way. While still making tons of money”. So for Emma to ditch the “chill” part and LITERALLY FUCKING SHOOT CAPITALISM IN THE TENTACLES?!?!?!?!? That would fuck so hard

#yeah idk why i didnt post this #here you go though #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #hatchetfield theory #(not really but just in case)#starkid #team starkid #the guy who didn't like musicals #lords in black #the lords in black #emma perkins #wiggly #wiggog y'wrath

88 notes · View notes

ohblahdo · 2 months

Text

Coming Up/Starting Over

Thinking about the dialogue between Paul and John in McCartney II and Double Fantasy: 'Coming Up' is a song addressed to a friend who wants "a love to last forever" (a reference to Don't Let Me Down) as well as "peace and understanding" (Give Peace a Chance, etc.), in which the speaker is offering reassurance: I am that friend, I want to help, hang in there and things will get better. "Never fade away" could be construed as a Buddy Holly reference (to "Not Fade Away"), and while 'searching' is a common verb, it's also the name of the song Paul always refers to when talking about the Cavern days. There might be other references I'm missing, but it's very much a song about music, which is underlined by the video, in which Paul plays different musicians (including himself as a Beatle), as well as by the extra lyrics in the live version ("I know if we could get together, we'd make music endlessly"), and the fact that Paul talks about 'coming up' as a radio reference ("coming up on the hour" - also in the live version).

Put that together, and I think it's both a friendly message to John - hi, I'm still your friend - and an invitation to make music together again. If you see it as a more romantic relationship, then obviously there could be other subtext there, but the basic idea is the same either way. (Invoking "Don't Let Me Down" to say "actually, ours is the love that lasts forever" ten years later can be seen as both bitchy and wildly romantic in a way I find kind of charming.)

This isn't a new idea, but it's interesting to think about John's songs as a response to that. First, there's "I Don't Wanna Face It", which the Beatles Bible says he started in 1977, but which clearly had a pretty overt musical reference to Coming Up incorporated into it when he reworked it in the summer of 1980. It was apparently the first song he recorded for Double Fantasy, and no matter which way you read it, if Coming Up is a question, I Don't Wanna Face it answers it with either "no" or "no, and fuck you".

But that isn't actually where the conversation ends, because John decided not to put that song on the album. Instead, one of the last songs he wrote for Double Fantasy was "(Just Like) Starting Over". I don't discount the idea that the song reflects his feelings for Yoko, or that he wrote it to better fit the narrative of the album, but I'm always a fan of the idea that a song or a work of art can say more than one thing at a time. I do not think that John, in the late 70s or 1980, would accidentally reference Paul's band and two of his singles in his lyrics without realizing it ("it's time to spread our wings and fly, don't let another day go by, my love"). Also, just as Coming Up is a meta song, so is Starting Over: I see your Buddy Holly, and I raise you an Elvis. And where I Don't Wanna Face It is a 'no', Starting Over feels like a 'yes' - the whole song is him asserting that he doesn't want to give up on a relationship. And maybe the yes has nothing to do with romantic love and everything to do with music - that would certainly make sense, both in relation to the songs themselves and to where John and Paul were musically and personally (both making albums that were, on some level, about recapturing their love of music, and allegedly considering working together on Ringo's album). Or maybe they were having wild sex in motels all over Long Island, idk. But the existence of the dialogue itself interests me, and it's nice to think of it ending on a positive note given what came next.

#mccartney ii #double fantasy #beatles meta

53 notes · View notes

bonniebird · 10 months

Text

Dwayne x Fem!Reader

Requested by @shadowcatgirl09

Make a request

Request: Okay first one! Can I get Dwayne (TLB) plus a female reader with "Are you trying to trap me against the wall? You’re a little small for that."

Read on Wattpad

Read on AO3

Warnings: mild smut, implied smut

You heard them before you saw them. The rumble of bikes across the beach grew louder and louder until they darted into sight and parked up where they usually did. Several people had to hop out of their way to avoid getting hit by the bikes.

Their raucous laughter and whooping echoed around several shop owners on the boardwalk hurried to shoo people out of their stores so they could close before they managed to get in. But a few of them weren’t so quick. You didn’t bother. They always managed to get in somehow. Like they could crawl into the cracks. Hurrying, so they wouldn’t know that you were watching, you sat down behind the till and threw your feet up on the counter. You casually flipped through a comic book you’d been given by the kids a few stores down. You could never tell if they were twins, brothers or two friends that were always together. You didn’t really care enough to inquire.

“Well, well, well.” Paul said as he strolled into the store. He flicked at the nick-nacks on the small rickety shelves as Marko pushed past him. Marko, the littlest of the group, didn’t seem to make as much trouble as the others. Though you were certain it was because he would steal as much as he could fit in his pockets every time he was on the boardwalk. You weren’t paid enough to do anything about that so you paid it no mind and watched Dwayne over the top of your comic. He entered behind Paul and muttered something to him. The two of them snickered and muttered as Dwayne looked over at you. Your eyes flicked down which was how you spotted Marko out of the corner of your eye. He’d snuck round the counter, quiet as anything, and managed to get a closer look at the more expensive trinkets in the cabinet under your feet. You startled slightly which made Dwayne and Paul laugh. Marko merely looked up at you as if he was unsure what could have possibly made you jump. Though he smiled slyly to himself after he turned away. He had absolutely done that on purpose and routed you out from behind the counter.

“I thought you quit.” Dwayne said as he and Paul split. The store was small. Really with the three lines of shelves you, Paul and Dwayne could barely stand shoulder to shoulder. It always smelled musty and damp no matter what anyone did. The store sold hippy stuff, stones, plastic toys and cheap crap marked up three times what it was worth. The tourists bought into it but any local would turn their nose up at the store.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.” You answered quickly. Paul chuckled and turned to Marko, leaning over the counter.

“Either you did or you didn’t. You’re still here aren’t you?” He pressed. You sighed and shrugged.

“Only until he finds someone else.” You answered quickly.

“Is he even looking?” Dwayne asked as he leaned on the shelf above your head. It rocked and dropped something heavy next to Paul who yelled. Marko quickly snatched up whatever it was judging by the scurrying sounds and the way he and Paul hurried out, clearly holding something large under their jackets.

“You’re going to have to pay for that.” You said as you turned to Dwayne who grinned.

“Pay for what?” He tried to turn and leave as well but you darted under his arm and blocked the way. The two of you danced around like that for several more minutes until you almost had him trapped against the sliding metal door of the shop.

“Are you trying to trap me against the wall? You’re a little small for that.” Dwayne said with amusement. He chuckled at the determined face you made and let you back him against the metal door which rattled loudly at the contact. Unsure of what to do next you pointed an accusing finger at him, jabbing it against his bare chest. He watched with amusement letting you get closer and glare up at him. He leaned down, white teeth flashing in the low light of the small stall. “Then again. You seem pretty tough for something so small.”

“I am!” You answered quickly. His proximity made you swallow nervously and your stomach fluttered. He chuckled to himself and leaned in more.

“Hmm.” He said and held your gaze as he smiled. “You’re going to find I don’t make good prey.”

Suddenly the nerves snapped and you serged towards him. Lips on his hands pressed against his shoulders as you slammed him against the metal door so hard you thought it would fall off its flimsy rail. For a moment you were in control. Until his mouth consumed yours, hands spread across your back to crush you against him, lifting you off the floor until your tiptoes struggled to touch the ground. He turned and trapped you, caught in his arms you felt yourself give in as he broke the kiss, trailing affectionate nips down to your neck, his teeth grazing the soft, warm skin as one of his hands slid down your body and into the front of your denim shorts. You gasped, the small sound drowned out by the roar of the boardwalk outside.

Dwayne tags:

@gillybear17@ravennoore14@the-caravello-post@killing-gremlin@aegonandaemondtargaryenslut18@lchufflepuffcorn @skylermoyer

#dwayne the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys x reader #bonniebird

101 notes · View notes

crepesuzette2023 · 11 days

Note

Hi, I was wondering if you have recs where Paul ignores and freezes John? Thanks a lot!

Thank you for asking, and sorry for being so late with my reply. I hope this is still useful to you.

This is a fascinating request. It made me realize that most fics I know focus on John freezing out Paul (with or without pining)—the reasons for that would probably be worth a separate post. So: challenging ask, thank u very much.

I also kept coming back to the way you worded it—ignores and freezes. That's highly specific, if you think about it! It includes an edge of pain and cold anger, or at the very least something unnatural: a decision to freeze, to numb, to refuse to see the other (Look At Me...).

It also feels final—or, at the very least, final-in-the-moment. How to separate this from fics in which they're broken up, not talking™, misunderstanding each other, are mad at each other (but only as a prelude to making up)...?

Does it also rule out fics in which they're not together, or fighting, or breaking-up-but-still-obsessed...never got together...?

As you can see, I might have been overthinking this, just a tad. :-) But here are some stories that, hopefully, fit your ask to varying degrees.

The wild and windy night (@zilabee) must have been one of the first J/P stories I read, and I guess I memory-wiped just how brutal (and damn good, because: true) it is. This is about mutual attempts at freezing and severing, and brace yourself: it's going to hurt. But it lands in a hopeful place. Cathartic. (Sorry, everyone, for never including it with any of my angst recs; I honestly must have decided to tuck this one away in a specially secured room reserved for the strongest stuff.)

How do you sleep (LouisWain1939) was the first fic I thought of reading your ask. If you want freezing cold, this is it. Prompt-fill for: Paul wanks to HDYS (optional: he phones John as he does it to make John listen). I love it.

you and i have memories (@midchelle). Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind AU. John is the first to opt for the removal of Paul memories, but Paul follows suit. Unfinished, but what a premise—and it's rendered so convincingly...! Treepanning+

open heart (@revollver): Vampire AU. Paul feels ashamed of how much he needs John, and refuses to open up to him. Hot and sensual and sad in exactly right proportions—with an unexpected dark and satisfying ending.

I'm gonna haunt you (sexysadie): 1968. An ice cold conversation between John and Paul in a pub.

Coast Starlight (bookofapril) The best canon divergence of all, in which Paul is happy with Robert Fraser (and, sometimes, Linda) in the 70's, and John is a slightly annoying shadow from the past. John is frozen out in absentia, in a wonderful Paul/Elton John conversation on Fire Island.

The Death of a bachelor (wavesof_joy): Modern AU. Paul gets married in Vegas...and it's too late to elope with John.

Here are two stories centered on the 1966-1967 "Paul refuses to trip with John" era — maybe a bit of a reach for the ask, but I'm thinking: John wants to get in, and Paul appears distant...baautiful, but not quite real...either way, these are both excellent, so enjoy: Sunday Driver (@boshemians; excellent Tara Browne cameo) and Chrysalis (cloudy_blue).

And finally, your ask made me think of two (three?) stories in which Paul freezes out John temporarily for trauma/pain/misunderstanding reasons: Brother Dearest (@javelinbk) and The Cast Iron Shore and its sequel, The Reeperbahn, by @m1ssunderstanding. In the first, John and Paul are stepbrothers as well as lovers. At first, they dislike each other, and later there is a heartbreaking break-up for your ignoring-each-other needs. The second is an AU in which Paul works as a 'rent boy' to support his abusive father, and starts a messy and intense relationship with John, leading them and their band from Liverpool to Hamburg. John and Paul love each other, but do they trust the other loves them back? No. Missunderstandings indeed—deeply painful in places—off the charts pining—and plenty of great Hamburg Beatles in action scenes...!

That's all I can think of for now—perhaps others can chime in with additional recs? (@whenyourbirdisbroken, @crumblingcookies? Tagging you because you have vast fic memories!)

I hope you will enjoy these, anon!

#asks #Paul freezes John out and ignores him fic recs #fic recs #mclennon #mclennon fic recs #mclennon fanfiction

22 notes · View notes

missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

Note

Sister, my darlin’ Madi! 💗

So, I already told you that I will be in your inbox, right? I’m requesting a fic for Post Army!E. Uh oh…

What do you think you could do with this picture?

I was thinking maybe a little romance, a little smut action, a little exhibitionism kink (cause come on, we all know Elvis likes to watch his conquests), maybe a little bit of spanking. I don’t know, but it sounds a bit better in my head when I thought about it 😂 Feel free to do whatever you please with it. If you can’t stray away from angst, I welcome it.

-Daisy (@powerofelvis)

Ah, my darlin' darlin' baby! My first ever request and it seems entirely fitting that it's for you, my biggest cheerleader!! 💗 @powerofelvis

I hope I did your request justice--I maybe went in a little different direction (I couldn't manage the spanking for this one, sorry!) and I'm also apparently incapable of writing anything less than 4k, so here's your 5.7k monstrosity of smuttasticness! Love you, baby, and I hope you enjoy! 🥰

This is filthy, so Minors, DNI!! 18+

This is part of Madi's Get to Know Me Gala 💗. Requests/asks are still open for the time being!

So, here it is, my first Request: Snap

You pride yourself on being one of the top photographers in the field, especially when, just like so many other careers, it is dominated by men who think they know better and do better solely because of the dangling appendage between their legs. Luckily, your boss has a progressive outlook and sees your talent for what it is.

The thing is, you are able to get something different from your celebrity subjects and he knows it. The women feel more comfortable with you because they know you aren’t trying to get in their pants, and the men either soften or want to impress you to do just that. And you seem to have a naturally honed ability to figure out quickly what they want and need and are able to play to that to get the best shots.

It’s a win-win most of the time.

Luckily, you don’t tend to get starstruck easily, perhaps because you see behind the curtain of the business. Not to say you didn’t get some butterflies around Paul Newman or feel a sense of awe around Grace Kelly. But overall, the glitz and glamor doesn’t affect you much.

You are a little surprised, however, that your next assignment is the one and only Elvis Presley, fresh from his image-changing stint in the Army. And you sense that the change of image is going to be the challenge on this shoot because remaking a man who the public already has a solid image of through a measly photograph is easier said than done. You have little doubt, based on your research and what you’ve seen so far from his pretty army discharge pictures, that his rebellious streak is now over. But who he is now and who he wants to be going forward likely looks very different from the hip greaser image burned in your head from the 50s.

That and the fact that you’re traveling on a train with him as he heads off to his next big film in LA is throwing you a little for a loop. But you are nothing if not adaptable.

There are more than abundant rumors of Presley’s love for the ladies, which is how you think you find yourself the only photographer who is asked to join him on the train on his journey. The other male photographers had clamored their way past you, fighting for shots at the train station, both outside the train and in it, before it was set to leave. You hung back, taking a few pictures here and there, but mostly smirking to yourself at the desperation to get the man’s attention.

It surprises you a little how pleasant Presley is, how accommodating. He’s nothing but a polite Southern gentleman, giving everyone their piece of him graciously. And the interactions with the fans are nothing less than remarkable based on your experience with other celebrities, and you chronicle that with your camera. There is a presence about him, an essence, that you’ve never quite encountered before with the way he commands the space he is in, demanding attention without ever actually saying a word, without requiring it. But you are finding it a little difficult to get a true read on him with so many people around.

You sense there are many other sides to him, but it’s not until you are almost alone with him and the train starts moving that you are able to discern what they might be. When you are finally introduced properly and are up close to the man, you cannot deny that your heart flutters and you shiver a little at the open way his brilliant sapphire eyes take you in from head to toe.

“Well, hello there, honey,” he drawls, the words warm and dripping into your stomach as his hand clasps yours. “You must be our resident photographer.”

You hate the way his gaze and his touch disorient you. You’ve been around dozens of charming, handsome men, but this man is on another level altogether. He’s more than just a chiseled jaw and high cheekbones and stunning blue eyes. No, there is a magic about him that draws you in, throwing you off your game and threatening to melt you into an embarrassing puddle.

It’s more than a little infuriating.

You manage to snap out of it, clearing your throat and introducing yourself firmly, professionally, putting on your best celebrities-don’t-rattle-me affect. But the damage is done because you can see the glint of amusement in his eyes and the tiniest smirk play at those famous full lips.

You watch him relax with his friends, joking and messing about. Keeping a healthy distance, you get some shots that will likely never see the light of day but help you gauge the lighting and get a feel for him. When not around the onslaught of reporters, he seems filled with an almost adolescent penchant for horsing around, which seems interesting for a man of 25 fresh out of the Army who presents now as keen and intelligent enough despite the Southern accent that the snobs in LA and New York want to look down their noses at him for.

Suddenly, as if commanded silently, the others disperse into the different private cars reserved for him and his people, leaving the two of you alone. After a moment, those deep eyes of his find you, and he beckons you down the train car towards him in a come hither motion and the raise of an eyebrow.

That is when you realize what Elvis needs for you to get your shots. The man wants to play. A little tete è tete is in order, perhaps.

Easy enough, you think as you sit diagonally to him in the bank of seats across from him. You’ve played similar games before with other handsome men. Nothing tawdry, but a little flirtation never hurt anyone. Though with the way his eyes darken and his posture changes ever so slightly, for the first time ever, you think you might be a little out of your depth.

Regardless, you force yourself to maintain an air nonchalance. You hold up your camera. “May I?”

He nods, a smile playing at his lips. You’ve known some of the biggest stars to be uncomfortable under the gaze of a lens in their more private moments, but Presley seems to have no qualms whatsoever. And as you snap a few casual shots up close, it becomes crystal clear that the camera loves him. Every angle just works. He has no “bad side.” It’s almost exhilarating for someone like you who seeks to capture the truth in these moments to have the challenge of a man who was born to be in front of a camera as your subject.

Somehow, he’s both childlike and suave all at once. Innocent and sultry. Feminine and masculine. And he’s got the longest eyelashes you’ve ever seen on a man.

Elvis lets out a long whistle. “You sure are the prettiest photographer I’ve ever seen.”

Your eyebrow raises and you are thankful that your camera conceals the slight blush on your cheeks, despite knowing this is likely just a line to placate you.

“Is that so?” you respond evenly.

“Mhm. Sure is a nice change from the usual group of stuffy men up in my business, I’ll tell you for sure. Much rather have you up in my…” he trails off, then winks.

“I’m not sure you could handle a woman like me, Mr. Presley.” It’s a challenge and a risk, to be sure, taking this way to a man of such stature, but you put just a bit of playfulness in your voice to temper the slice.

He pauses, considering you in a different way, then mimics your own words back to you: “Is that so?”

Snap.

The photo you capture then is one you know has that edginess, that something else you are looking for.

There’s a sense of tension in his posture now, only recognizable to you because not a second so he was the picture of confident relaxation. But you’ve caught him out—that famous lip of his curling as he throws your words back at you, his almond eyes narrowing suspiciously but full of a feline sexual energy. While his right arm appears casual on the armrest, his long and slender pointer finger goes rigid, a suggestive gesture to be sure.

He’s playful about it but in such a way as a jungle cat seeks to play with its food before devouring it.

Heat courses through your limbs and pools low in your belly, a purely biological response to this amazing specimen of a man and the way he’s looking at you.

You manage to find your voice. “Quite so, I’m afraid,” you say with a flirty, faux sorrow.

“We’ll see,” he hums, then slides over the seat until right across from you. In a bold move you don’t see coming, Elvis nudges his toe under your skirt and in between your properly clasped knees, spreading your legs apart until his foot rests possessively through your thighs on the seat underneath you.

“You’re one cocky sonnuvabitch, aren’t ya?” you muse, finally bringing your camera down to look him in the eyes. You are hyper aware of the way his toe inches up, closer to the heat that now begins to pulse between your legs.

”Gonna have to wash your mouth out if ya keep talkin’ like that,” he purrs.

Snap.

“Oh, really?” You are loathe to admit just how badly you want to see him try.

“Yes, really.”

“Hmm, suppose you’d have to catch me first.” You are fully taunting him now, quickly hurtling into the realm of unprofessional but unable to stop yourself.

Snap.

But based off the smile on his face and the heat in his eyes, he is enjoying himself.

“Oh, that ain’t hard.”

“No?”

He chuckles and inches his foot up far enough that your thighs now encase it, sending a rolling shiver through you at the pressured sensation.

Snap.

Obviously, you know how a good round of flirtation and suggestion can open a subject up, so to speak, but you don’t mix business with pleasure. Right now, you are running headlong down a very dangerous road. You aren’t completely naive to the ways of men and sex, but you also aren’t overly experienced when it comes to the deed itself, due to propriety and self- preservation. Your experience has been limited to heavy petting and the basic mechanics of the act, but nothing you’d call very exciting or even overly enjoyable. The whole sex thing honestly seemed overrated, made more to please men than women.

But that was before Elvis Presley sat across from you and wedged his foot between your thighs.

The more you think about it, about him, the more you think you might burn right through your clothes as though it were the dead heat of summer and you’d been running for miles. You force yourself to breathe slowly, evenly, to keep control of your faculties and the situation, but he stares at you with those intense eyes and you already know it’s a losing battle.

“Show me how to work that camera, honey,” he says, surprising you with the change of tactics.

“What for?” Your camera is your livelihood, your baby, your artistic expression so this makes you nervous. Usually, you’d never, ever let a subject touch it. But these aren’t normal circumstances (and you also know that he has more than enough money to replace it if he screws something up).

“Oh, you’ll see,” he smirks, eyes dancing. He makes no indication that he’s going to move his foot from its precarious position in order for you to shift towards him, and when you raise your brows at him questioningly, he just smiles that wide, million dollar smile.

So you slowly, carefully, scoot your butt to the edge of the seat in order to lean far enough forward with the camera in hand. In doing so, however, the sole of his shoe is now flush against your core and you can’t help the little yelp that escapes your lips when he presses against you. It stokes something inside you that you’ve never felt to this extent before.

Oh, you are in trouble. You are in way, way over your head.

You manage a gulp and then clear your throat as you lean over to show him the workings of the camera. He meets you in the middle, and your eyes nearly roll back into your skull for the way it presses his toe into your now aching cunt.

Holy hell, the man smells intoxicating, and you are aware of just how close his face is to yours. It’s as if his eyelashes flutter in slow motion, his breath hot near your cheek, and a pressure builds inside of you, one you’ve only felt when your curious hand has made its way into your panties on a sleepless night or when you’ve pushed a pillow between your thighs, rocking into the friction. Certainly no man has ever made you really feel that way.

But that feeling barely touches the fire that courses through you now. In a slow daze, you show him the basic mechanics and he gently pulls the camera from your grasp. Suddenly, you feel vulnerable and bare without it, your shield of indifference taken away.

Elvis leans back, releasing some of the pressure on your core, and you can breathe again, if only for a moment, because the look in his eyes is nothing short of obscene in its sexiness.

“You develop your own film, darlin’?”

You are confused by the question, but all you can seem to do is nod in response, wondering where in the hell this is going.

“Good. Now, relax, honey, and pull that dress up for me,” he says, as though he’s asking something completely benign of you.

Your face must register your confusion, your surprise. To his credit, he moves his foot away, and his gaze and voice both soften, “I ain’t gonna hurt you, I promise, but you gotta tell me if this isn’t somethin’ you wanna do.”

To your credit, it doesn’t take you long to find your voice, as stammering as it might be. “I-I-I want to,” you say, and it comes out so breathless you’d roll your eyes at yourself in any other circumstance. In fact, you are rather shocked at your eagerness.

Elvis smiles broadly. “Well, okay then, honey. That dress,” he commands, nudging his chin up to remind you what it is he wants from you.

Your heart flutters so fast that you’re not sure it’s even fully beating anymore. You inch the fabric up, up, up your thighs, feeling the softness as it wrinkles under your palms, exposing your stockings to the man in front of you.

Much to your chagrin, you are utterly spellbound. A reasonable voice in the back of your head tells you to stop this nonsense immediately before you make a fool of yourself before you cross lines that cannot be uncrossed. Yet your body is so wound, so tuned into him, so needy for whatever it is he has in store for you that you can barely think.

Snap.

It takes a moment to register that its him taking pictures of you, not the other way around. An embarrassed heat rushes to your cheeks when you realize he’s aimed the camera squarely between your legs and not at your red face.

You pause when reaching the white lace tops of your stockings, the garter clips that hold them up now visible.

Snap.

It’s likely the way he bites his full lower lip behind the camera that gives you the courage to keep going, that little tell that perhaps he’s just as aroused as you, that this isn’t some cruel joke.

Finally, you pull the hem up over your hips, exposing your white panties fully to his scrutiny. Perhaps it’s the damp spot in the center of them that has him shifting his hips with a quiet, low groan. The sound sends a thrill rippling through your limbs.

Snap.

His voice comes out husky and about an octave lower this time. “Now reach into those panties and touch yourself for me, baby. D’you know how to get yourself goin’?”

“I think so, yes,” you reply breathlessly, altogether unsure if anything you’ve ever done to yourself is anything what this obviously experienced man expects.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll help guide ya if you need it,” he says with a kind of deference, patience.

You nod, then, biting your lip in concentration, you slip your hand down under the waistband of your underwear. The pads of your fingers are cool against the blazing heat of your sex as they trail down to that sensitive bundle of nerves you’ve only touched the surface of exploring. You circle the bud a few times, your hips rolling involuntarily in response.

Snap.

“Lower,” Elvis commands, and you obey, sliding down to find how swollen and soaking you already are. Something about the way he is watching you has a coil in your belly tightening in a way it never has before, has your body responding in ways it never has with another person.

“Are you wet, baby?” he breathes.

You nod.

“Show me.” It comes out sultry and eager and sets you on fire that he wants to see with his own eyes what he’s doing to you.

You pull your fingers out of the damp fabric and show him the slick shining there.

“Goddamn,” he whispers, snapping another photo. “Lemme taste you.” The blush revealed on his sky-high cheekbones when he pulls the camera away is enough to send your breath heaving, but it is nothing at all compared to what happens in your body the moment his lips close around your sticky fingertips.

An obscene moan rolls out from your mouth as his soft tongue licks your digits clean. The sound seems to urge him on, resulting in him sucking one, then the other, gently. Your hair stands on end, goosebumps running down your arms, your eyes fluttering closed. That coil inside your pelvis tightens so tight you feel like you might burst, but then he removes his mouth with a resounding pop.

You whimper at the loss and your eyes flutter back open to find his deep blues staring back at you with a passion that seems to rival your own.

“Sweet as honey,” he murmurs with a dreamy smile, picking up the camera once more. Something inside you is proud that he’s enjoyed tasting you, as if you were always meant for him to enjoy. “Now I wanna see that kitty.”

You didn’t know it was possible to be more flushed that you already are, but your cheeks rage with blood. You aren’t exactly sure how he wants that to happen and your brow furrows.

“Just pull those pretty panties to the side for me, baby,” Elvis encourages.

It feels like all the blood in your body rushes into your pussy the moment you slide the ruined cotton off to the side, leaving you bare for him. The cool air makes you shiver, or maybe it is the way he groans as he takes a picture of your most private of areas.

“T-touch yourself for me,” he says, his voice needy and strained now.

You run your fingers down then up through your lower lips, feeling the throbbing pulse of blood down there as you do so, feeling that tightness in your belly squirm for more. The obvious tent in his black slacks has you breathing even harder as you wonder what he would feel like buried inside of you.

But Elvis has other ideas.

“Aw, hell,” he moans before tossing your camera aside and falling to his knees in front of you like a desperate man praying for forgiveness. You barely have time to register your shock at the superstar prostrating himself at your feet before his large hands spread your thighs further apart, and his luscious lips kiss their way up your slit, landing on your aching clit.

“What are you—Oh my god!” you cry out before you can stop yourself, your hands flying into his dark mane of soft, perfectly styled hair. Never in your life had a man put his mouth there, it wasn’t even something you knew was done, and ohmifuckinggod it feels so good that your mind goes blank.

When Elvis moans into you, lathing his tongue flat against you and dragging it up your core, you think you stop breathing completely.

So far gone are you as his wicked tongue winds through and spears and soothes you, that you don’t realize that the mewling murmurs of, “Oh, Jesus. Holy mother of—Oh, Elvis!” are actually coming from your mouth. You feel him smile against you, pausing his ministrations long enough for you to catch your breath.

Which is good, because he immediately knocks it back out of you as he slides a long finger into your tight heat and latches himself to your clit like a man possessed. The deft way his finger pumps, then curves into some unknown spongy spot you didn’t know existed until this very moment has you writhing on the seat, clinging to his beautiful head for dear life. Somehow, the combination of the suckling and licking of your little nub coupled with the rapid work of his hand has your entire body tensing before he hurtles you over an invisible cliff, that tight coil in your belly snapping. Shuddering and gasping, you free fall, and a soothing warmth washes over you from head to toe.

You’ve never felt anything like it in your life.

Your chest heaves with exertion as you come back into yourself, whining at the emptiness when he removes his finger, then shivering as he replaces it with his tongue, lapping at the excess of slick arousal that now seems to coat everything below, including his face.

The aftershocks that he causes to ripple through you stoke the fire in your belly again, and you think that maybe, just maybe you had this sex thing all wrong. That the few men you’d fooled around with had absolutely no idea what they were doing. Because this…this was…so good you can’t even think of an intelligent way to describe it.

Elvis straightens and pulls up onto his knees, looking utterly pleased with himself, his pretty mouth shiny with you. Slotting between your open legs, his eyes shine with arousal.

“Was that good, baby? Did you come?” he asks.

“I—was that…? Did I come? What does that—?” you stammer, barely able to string together a coherent sentence, confused by his words in your haze.

He chuckles at your floundering. “Have you never come before? Never had an orgasm, honey? That’s a damn shame,” he says, wiping his mouth with his thumb, then licking it.

You blush at your inexperience and at his gesture. “That was an orgasm? I mean, of course it was…I, well, I’ve been with men, I just—that never—Um, yes, th-that was amazing,” you babble, knowing that you must be bright red with embarrassment, but your body is so loose and warm that you almost don’t care.

He only smiles at your bashfulness and leans up into you, his mouth hovering so close to yours that you feel his warm breath on your lips and can smell yourself on them. “Well, best give you another one for good measure. Whaddya say, baby?” he whispers, your entire body tingles at attention.

All you can do is nod, almost frantically, wondering how in the world he could make that happen again and absolutely desperate for it at the same time.

It’s then that he finally kisses you and you are consumed all at once with how pillowy soft his lips are, how you can taste yourself on his lips and it feels like it should be wrong, but you sort of like it. He’s surprisingly gentle, his passion evident but controlled as he explores your mouth much in the same way he explored your pussy—soft at first, but insistent. You open to him easily, his tongue quickly finding yours and in one fell swoop, he maneuvers you onto your back on the seat, slotting his long legs between your thighs.

The gentle way his hands and lips caress your face, your neck, down to your breasts and waist has you distracted enough that you are surprised when he rolls his pelvis into yours and his excitement is particularly evident as it pokes into your belly.

It’s because of me, you think in disbelief, I’ve made Elvis Presley, of all men, aroused.

And that thought suddenly has you ravenous and bold. You reach between you two, taking his clothed but considerable length in your hand and squeezing.

Elvis groans above you, then smiles. “You eager little minx. Give you a little taste and now it’s all you can think about, huh?” he teases.

Your response is to smile back and work his length with your hand. You may not know much about the female orgasm before today, but you sure as hell are familiar with how his equipment works.

“Okay, okay,” he gasps, his eyes rolling back, “Jesus, woman, I hear ya.”

He rids himself of his suit jacket while you make quick work of his belt and buttons and zippers. Unbeknownst to you, yet completely unsurprisingly, he is wearing no underwear, so with a quick push of his slacks off his hips, he’s totally bare for you.

He’s well-endowed enough for you to be a little nervous about it which he seems to pick up on. “Don’t you worry, baby, I’ll go slow,” he whispers kindly in your ear.

You nod and respond by wrapping your hand around him and pumping his shaft, swirling your thumb gently over his foreskin and over the head of him. The beaded pre-cum slicks over the tip, eliciting a low growl from the Adonis hovering above you.

Pulling up your skirt again, you bend your knees invitingly, letting him nestle between your legs. Elvis takes a moment to kiss you roughly, nipping at your lower lip, as he coats his erection in your slick, rubbing the length of it between your already sopping and swollen folds. The tip of him brushes against your clit maddeningly as he does so, causing you to arch and keen under him.

Finally, you can stand it no longer, reaching your hand down to line him up with your entrance. He smirks above you, but the look is wiped off his face and quickly replaced with something almost akin to awe as he pushes into you slowly. Your body yearns for him in such a way that, even though you are quite tight around him, you seem to suckle him in, inch by inch. The sensation has the both of you moaning, eyes rolling back and lips parting as you join together.

“Fuck, honey. So goddamned tight for me,” he groans, and a shudder of pleasure rolls through you.

It's utterly delicious the way he slots into you so perfectly, bottoming out as you swallow him whole. He gives you a moment to adjust and relax into the heaviness of him in your body, looking down at you with what you realize are quite soulful eyes. His arousal is obvious in the way his pupils are blown, but he still looks at you with an air of reverence even though this seems to be a spontaneous and casual fuck on a train.

When he starts thrusting in and out of you, slowly at first, and with somehow perfect precision, hitting spots inside you that you didn’t know existed, you realize you’ll never be able to have sex again without comparing it to the gorgeous man above you.

Lord, you wish you could take a picture of the way he looks right now, hair mussed and sweat beading on his forehead, his plump lips parted and panting. This is the perfectly imperfect Elvis you wished to capture when you got on this train. But in this moment, he is just for you to see. You don’t want to share him with the world.

He’s patient in his approach to keep his promise, yet he doesn’t need to wait long. Your body is humming with arousal, the warmth blossoming over you as his thrusts become more pointed and deeper. The way he rolls his pelvis, then swivels it, playing with motion and depth make you realize he’s gauging every reaction you have, adjusting to what brings you closer to falling apart.

You barely recognize the sounds coming out of your mouth, feeling every hard inch of him taking over you, wanting more, more, more. Your wet heat flutters around him and he speeds his thrusts, but it’s when he brings his hand between you and rubs his thumb against your hypersensitive bud that you truly begin to fall apart.

This time, it’s more gradual, the way the heat and pressure builds. You know more of what to expect, but holy hell, he’s playing you like an instrument, making your entire body quiver with desire and need. You almost want to escape the feeling—it’s so intense, so stimulating, as he pounds into you from above, but you also never want it to stop.

“C’mon, baby, that’s my good girl,” he praises in that low Southern drawl, and that takes you up, up, up the crest of your arousal.

You pant and whine, desperate now for a release you’ve never had a taste of until now.

“That’s it, come for me now, darlin’, come on me,” he moans, working your clit faster.

That sends you flying over the edge, hitting the crest of your orgasm so hard the wind is knocked out of you, and you see white stars in the blackness of your closed eyes. You clench around him, your legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing, as though he can keep you from flying away. Body shuddering with release, you feel a gush of warmth and he’s sliding so effortlessly through you, he could split you in two and you wouldn’t even know it.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so good for me…did so good baby,” he pants, watching you come down from your high.

Elvis slows down, easing you through it, though he looks like he wants to absolutely ravage you for the way he looks at you so hungrily. He’s holding back, you can tell.

“I’m gonna pull out, baby. I-I-I—can I come on your pretty lil’ face?” he gasps, eyes begging you.

You’d be more taken aback if he hadn’t just fucked you silly. Never in a thousand years would you think to let a man claim you in such a way, but you find that you want—no, need—it. You’d let him do almost anything with you at this point.

You nod, unable to speak with how fucked out you are. Elvis pulls out of your heat and you groan at the loss of him, but he’s pulling you down to the floor and you go, bonelessly, onto your knees. Towering above you, he stands, using the remnants of your glistening release to pump his cock expertly, and the sight sends shivers through you.

“Oh, that’s it, honey. Open your mouth for me,” he pants out, tapping your chin with his finger.

You obey without question.

Elvis clasps his free hand at the back of your neck, cupping your jaw as he thrusts roughly into his other hand. “Aw, f-f-f-fuckin’ hell,” he moans loudly, and then he comes violently. Pulsing, hot streams squirt over your cheeks, your chin, and you taste the bitter tang of his salty release on your tongue.

You’ve never tasted a man before, and you’re glad the first is Elvis Presley.

He looks absolutely ethereal in his release. The way he grits his teeth and then his mouth hangs open, eyes fluttering shut and body shuddering as he paints you with him makes him even more attractive than you thought possible.

You wait, mouth still agape and covered in his seed. His bedroom eyes open and he looks down at you. “Jesus, you look so damn beautiful covered in me,” he says dreamily. “Stay just like that.”

Then, surprising you once again, he grabs your camera which had been discarded earlier, bringing it up to his face.

Snap.

He memorializes the moment.

“Swallow, baby,” he guides you, tapping your chin closed. You do, even though it makes you a little queasy because you’ve never done this before.

Snap.

“Open,” he says, pulling the camera from his face. Then, he uses his thumb and fingers to wipe your face of him, depositing the rest of his cum in your mouth. “Want ya to take it all for me,” he coos. You take it willingly, and then suckle the rest off his fingers.

“My pretty lil’ photographer,” he moans out, snapping one last shot as he pumps his fingers in your mouth. “S’good for me, you dirty girl.”

You can’t help but whine at that.

Elvis flops back down onto the seat, dark hair failing in his eyes, and pulls you into his lap. He kisses you, gently, then with more insistence as he seems to relish the taste of himself on your tongue.

“Mmm, I want copies of those photos,” he says seriously, pulling back and looking into your eyes.

You blush furiously. “Okay,” you whisper, nodding.

He lets his head fall back onto the seat and closes his eyes in refraction. After a moment, he speaks again, pulling you in close.

“And I want you to be with me in California, once we get there. Will you stay?” he asks quietly.

The way he asks so earnestly both stuns and delights you. You couldn’t say no even if you wanted to.

“I will,” you say.

Elvis smiles.

Grabbing your camera, you take one last shot of your beautiful, mind-blowing man.

Snap.

187 notes · View notes

goldenwilliamson · 1 year

Note

What about a Beatle!reader x Paul maybe or John where you guys are really good friends and flirt with each other all the time and then maybe one of you decides to act on it?

okay. so. i decided to make this request somewhat of a part 2 to this request that i wrote a little while ago. i just thought that writing about this already developed relationship with paul would be fun. hope its alright!

pairing: paul x reader

summary: after paul helps you out when you express your unrequited feelings towards george, you realise paul is the one you should be with. PART 1 HERE

warnings: PDA? lollll

George and Pattie's New Year's Eve party had well and truly kicked off. After your little deal with Paul you had floated around socialising with the people you knew. You were stood speaking with Eric Clapton when Paul sidled up to you.

"Oh, hello," you smiled as his arm moved around you and his hand found its resting place upon your hip.

“Hi,” Paul smiled at you with his eyelids slightly drooping. You can see he’s had a good amount to drink and smoke at this stage of the night.

Something in the way Paul is looking at you makes you feel flustered, almost like butterflies.

“Are you having a good night, love?” You ask.

“I’m having a wonderful time, how about you Eric, you alright?” Paul turns to Eric.

“Yes sir,” he smirks, looking between you both, “I’ll leave you to it then,” he sends a subtle wink toward Paul, which you don’t miss.

Paul spins you so that you are facing him completely and lets his hands rest around your waist, clasped at the small of your back. You shamelessly let your arms snake around his neck and look at him in a way you’ve never looked at him before. You were looking at Paul as if he was the most attractive man you’ve ever known.

“What are you trying to do?” You say, making Paul smirk.

He leans close enough to you that you think he’s about to kiss you on your neck, but instead he whispers, “Just trying to get him off your mind.”

There’s that feeling again. The butterflies, and the goosebumps all over your arms and legs.

You take in a sharp breath as he pulls away, “I think it’s working.”

Paul smiles proudly and laughs a little bit, "I never expected this would be happening."

"What's that?" You ask, your face lighting up at the sight of Paul's happiness.

"I never thought I'd be with you like this," he holds you a bit tighter and pulls you a bit closer to emphasise his point.

"Neither did I, but I'm liking it," you tell him honestly.

You feel so safe in his arms, and you honestly don't know how this had never happened before. Paul is constantly flirting with you, and you're always giving it straight back to him. You both have always played it off as jokey banter, but tonight it's clear that there was truth behind all that playfulness.

"I am too, love," Paul says.

You decide you don't want to wait around any longer, it just seems silly to deny yourself pleasure at this stage.

"Do I have to wait until midnight for you to kiss me?" You ask.

"I think we can work around that rule," Paul says as you both lean into each other smiling. You find each others lips with ease, fitting into each other like jigsaw pieces, and falling into a rhythm as you continue to kiss each other. Being with Paul was something you never knew would feel so good.

As you pull away, you can't help but smile, and you just about laugh at the situation.

"Why have we never done that before?" You say.

"Well until about an hour ago you were in love with my best mate," Paul explains.

He did his job well because right now George is the last thing on your mind, all you can manage to think about is how much you want to stay with Paul the rest of the night, and how you hope this isn't a one night thing.

"That was silly, I couldn't see that the person I should be with was right it front of me," you say.

"I couldn't see it either, but I can see it now."

"Kiss me again," you say, wanting to keep feeling that feeling over and over again.

"Happily."

#paul mccartney fic #paul mccartney x reader #paul mccartney imagine #paul mccartney fluff #beatlesimagines #beatles imagine #beatles fic #beatles x reader

158 notes · View notes

demon-of-the-ancient-world · 2 months

Text

ok prefacing by saying I *don't* plan on writing this as of now but I have to say something. this is chewing my brain and I have to get it out of me.

It sounds insane but hear me out: uhhh Paul/Chani Hunger Games au??

Hear me out!!! So Paul is from District 4 (fishing/water related stuff etc. it FITS), he's the mayor's son and therefore not likely to be picked as a tribute but by sheer bad luck he is. Despite not being pro-games and very much not wanting him to be selected, his parents have provided him with combat training in the event that he is, because he is technically a "career tribute" and that's what you do.

Chani comes from District 6 (transportation - reference obviously to the worm riding from canon, spice used in transportation even if those aren't involved in this universe) and is secretly part of a resistance that's growing there. Maybe she volunteers bc she's got some plan to dismantle the games from within? idk

Of course, the arena is a desert. There's gotta be some kind of Capitol mutt-sandworm, probably not *as* fuckoff huge as they are in canon but Big Enough. Cursed sand that makes you hallucinate? Definitely could be another fucked up thing thrown into the arena.

Maybe Feyd is another career tribute who expects Paul to join up with him but he never does so he's got it out for him the whole time? Either way he's the final boss.

There has to be an "actually two can win" thing (as a rule change from the beginning maybe, not a surprise like in the original thg) because we're not killing either of them nope we are not. But since they're from different districts they'd part ways -- only Chani has told him in secret about the revolution that's underway so the implication is that he'll maybe find a way to join her in her efforts somehow. Or maybe he won't, it's ambiguous.

I don't know if this is cursed or brilliant

#dune #thg #this is what happens when you reread the hunger games and go see dune 2 in the same month #this is what you get #paul atreides #chani kynes #paul x chani #i'm not even like. *crazy* crazy abt this ship like it's cute/really fuckin sad don't get me wrong #but this just seems so right to me

22 notes · View notes

warnersister · 9 months

Text

Gonna give you a baby (smut)

The Beatles x Reader, Paul McCartney x Wife! Reader

Summary: you and Paul have fertility issues, the three men with a thing for you see this as a great opportunity to lend a helping hand. -> hate this one didn’t write it well🤧

Warnings: mentions of infertility, pregnancy, filthy smut, five-some, degrading (slut, whore, etc), hand-jobs, oral (f+m receiving), just a lot.

Requested by: @jill-smith-123

You and Paul had met in the early 50’s. Your family had moved in just down the street from him and the 10 year old McCartney was awestruck from the moment he laid eyes on you. The next day, he’d showed up at your house, to which your less-than-pleased father had answered the door, with a bow-tie and bouquets of flowers he’d taken from your mother’s new garden, to ask you to accompany him to the local youth centre for disco night.

He’d bought you a sherbet straw while he puffed on candy cigarettes before pecking your lips with tight-shut eyes mid way through you dining along to The Andrews Sisters’ song your mother had on vinyl.

When you were each a bit older, you’d accompanied Paul to the cavern club sitting in the front row as you’d hummed along with him, his eyes never drawing away from your own. Then he’d take you for dinner, a real fancy restaurant that his uncle owned, and he said that he’d pay - but it was always on the house.

Eventually, another three boys had somehow weaselled their way into your life and the product was an up and coming band: The Beatles. John Lennon, George Harrison, Pete- (scratch that) Richard Starkey and your boy Paul McCartney. And it was no secret that the three also had a thing for you - between the constant bickering and playful flirtations, Paul brushed it off because he always knew in the end that you were always his, and he was always yours.

Especially when he proposed on your twentieth birthday in 1962. Beatlemania crazed the nation and it wasn’t long before scandalous magazines began to accuse the boys of unruly acts and Paul was no different. And realistically, Paul saw the only way fit to prove his innocence to you was to ask for your hand in marriage. With your father’s approval of course… (?)

The fame never concerned you, nor did it necessarily appeal to you either - so you’d had a small ceremony in the local church, doors locked for a healthy gathering of your closest family and friends and an after party conjoined with a reception in the Cavern Club into the early hours of the morning.

“Y’know love, I never read a rule that said your first night had to be with your actual husband.” George had whispered into your ear, smirking at you after seeing the look on your face. “Not her first night.” Paul responded, hints of jealously in his tone as he threw you over his shoulder and off to his car.

That was also the night you’d discovered Paul’s intense breeding kink. His hips pushing into you at a bruising rate, lips failing him as he stuttered out his desire to see you full with his children.

But that was the problem.

“Am I the problem?” You’d asked Paul as you buried your face in his neck, crying after umpteen times, you still weren’t pregnant. “No, no, not at all dove.” He caressed your back gently. “We’re just going to have to be moved patient and keep trying. You’re perfect.” He said softy, cupping your puffy face between his hands, looking you over with a concerned gaze.

“Hey, woah woah woah what’s up lovey?” John asked as the other band members entered the room. They all ran to your side, helplessly watching the tears roll down your cheeks. “I can’t get pregnant.” You sniffed, hiccuping as the tears continued to flow. Ringo’s hands cupped yours as his sad eyes looked into yours. “Maybe there’s just not enough.” He said and your brows creased.

“Y’know our offer is always on the table.” George’s continued. “What offer?” You asked, confused. “Y’ mean you never told her, paulie boy?” John cocked his head. “No, cause I know what you lot are like.” “What y’ on about?” You ask again. “All of us.” George said. “Y’ mean-” “all of us at once.” John took your chin between his fingers and squatted down to where you were sat. “Wrecking y’ can handle us, dovey?” Shocked, you look from John to Paul who had a knowing smirk frowning on his lips. Without thinking, you nod at them. Suddenly, you were swept off of your feet and into the arms of John. “Let’s make you a baby.”

A king size bed was certainly not big enough to support the five of you, but in the boys’ desperation, you certainly managed. You were placed down gently on the bed, soft covers enveloping you as the four starved men looked down at you with lustful eyes. Your clothes were practically torn from your body, apparently them being to impatient to allow you to get undressed properly.

Paul caressed your hair gently before leaning into kiss you, as you begin to feel light kisses and licks on your breasts. You look down to see John staring back at you, a cheeky grin on his lips. He bit your nipple harshly and you hissed, screwing your eyes tight and throwing your head back. “Better get used to that if y’ want a baby.” George said, tracing his hand up and down the sensitive skin on your inner thigh.

Then all the delicious contact went again and you groaned, searching for the friction they were giving you. “Y’ want a baby? Y’ gonna have to let us get undressed first.” George chuckled. When they were undressed, John situated himself between your legs. “Oi, shift she’s my missus I’m having the first go.” Paul grumbled. “And the reason she can’t get pregnant.” John replied smugly, but was shoved out of the way by your husband. “Y’ gonna show em what a good slut y’ are for me, hmm?” He asked, fingers wandering down your thigh and towards your heat, beginning to pump them at an agonisingly slow pace.

George yanked your hair back and forced you to look at him, your mouth falling agape in the process. “Y’ gonna be good for us? Gonna give old Paulie a baby?” He taunted, rubbing himself a few times before forcing his length into your mouth. Gagging slightly, you tried your best to open your throat in the position you were in.

A heat built up inside of you, warmth rushing as you chased your high but it was soon stripped from you. Unable to complain, the disheartenment was soon replaced by something much larger - you and Paul groaned simultaneously, George doing the same as you sent vibrations flying through his cock.

After a while of Paul’s bruising pace, you rest his unwavering hips stutter as he released into you, you doing the same and realising all over him. George pulled out of your mouth and thrust himself into his hand a few times before also cumming. “Such a filthy whore.” Paul taunted, enamoured by the drool leaking from your lips.

“My turn now, birdie?” Ringo asked and you hummed, still dazed and coming off of your high. “He asked you a question. You being a disobedient slut for him?” John asked and you shook your head no. “Y-yes, your turn Richie.” You managed to stutter out.

His dick hardened at his routine nickname, needing no time to prepare you so without warning, sliding himself straight in. He let out a big breath of air at the feeling of your soft wall enveloping him. He began thrusting at an agonisingly slow pace, you in turn, crying out in desperation. “Patience now, doll.” Ringo told you. “Good things come to those who wait.” He took his time with you, not knowing when an opportunity like this one would come again.

Your head fell to the side and your eyes connected with John’s, who looked down at you with a small shit-eating grin. He leant down and licked your ear love, whispering gently “gonna give me a hand job while you let your husband’s friend take you?” You moaned at his question but nodded at him, raising your hand to rub up and down his hardening cock, swiping the tip a few times to use his pre-cum as some sort of lubricant. You pulled away and spat saliva into your palm, beginning to jerk him off at a faster rare. “Isn’t your first rodeo, is it dove?” John asked with a chuckle. “Got you well trained, haven’t I chick?” Paul said, leaning down to latch his lips onto yours.

Your high came excruciatingly slow, Richard building up the pace to the point he could no longer take it and took you animalistically, only stopping to release his seed deep into your womb and felt you cum over him. Waiting long enough for some of it to sink in, he slowly pulled out and kissed at the cold air attaching his sensitive member.

John released into your hand and felt his cock re-stiffen at the sight of you licking your hand clean. “Fuck. Me next.” He said, walking around the bed to your feet and positioning himself between your legs, feeling yourself being manoeuvred like some inhuman marionette. He moved you until your face was in the sheets and back arched for him, arse and sweet warmth on display for him. “Can’t let any of their cum get out, can we love?” He’d asked tauntingly, nails digging painfully rough into your hips.

He slipped in quickly, cock twitching at the sound you made, sensitive from the numerous rounds you had been put through. “Can’t believe Paul gets to keep you all to himself. A little slut all for him.” He said, staring to pepper kissed down your back while his hands found your breasts. Your arse was unquestionably bruised, as was your neck from the way Ringo and George were sucking at either side of it. John let out his load deep inside of you, full ovaries feeling themself being stuffed by the liquid trickling down into them.

George had waited so patiently for his turn, so patient with a so painful hard-on that he was going to make you regret giving him. Seeing himself torture you would be enough of a reason to make himself wait a few more moments. He spun you around and returned you into your back, kneeling down to kiss and worship the skin of your inner thighs, yet never close enough to provide the friction you so-desperately needed.

He kissed and sucked at your clit, thumb coming up to rub it as his tongue delved deep into your walls, making you cry out at the sight of their cum on his tongue. He thrust it into you a half a dozen more times before standing up and forcing his elongated cock into you. You hissed, pained by the repetitive beatings your intestines were receiving.

“Such a good little brat for us aren’t you?’ Paul asked, staring down at you as if a predator staring at its helpless pray. “Yes, ‘m good.” You repeated, doing as you were told as he tapped your chin to tell you to open it. You parted your lips and allowed your husband to force his dick into your already sore and throbbing throat.

George’s hips snapped at a consistent and quick pace, eyes not deferring from yours as he watched you take his bandmate’s cock so well. “Take him so well, don’t you dove?” He asked, praising you as you hummed and Macca moaned. George put his thumb onto your overstimulated clit and pressed down harshly. You cried out but tried your best to keep your throat open. “That’s if, keep it open.” Your husband taunted. And with a few more final thrusts, George cummed inside of you as you did the same, Paul releasing deep down your throat and you refrained from coughing - instead harshly swallowing and wiping the remaining resales from your mouth with your tongue and the back of your head.

“You were such a good girl.” John said, petting your hair gently and pecking your forehead. “Y’ alright, princess?” Ringo asked and you looked up at him and smiled with a nod. “Definitely gonna give Paulie boy a baby for being so good.” George added as he strolled your leg comfortingly. You enjoyed the praise you were receiving, letting the men manoeuvre you so you were in Paul’s lap. With your eyes shut, you felt yourself being lowered onto his cock and you hissed in both oversensitivity and surprise. You looked at your husband with tired eyes. “Don’t want any of it to go to waste.” He said with a wink and cheeky little smile. “Thank you.” You mumbled, drifting to sleep on his chest their quiet conversation turning into distant white noise.

A week or two later, your head was in the toilet bowl as Paul pulled your hair back into a make-shift pony tail and caressed your back at seven in the morning to let you be sick. “It’s alright love, think you’re coming down with something.” He said, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead to check for a fever. It was winter after all and your unreliable immune system was no match for England winters. “I’ll take you to the pharmacy, yeah?” And you’d nodded, wiping your mouth and letting him lead you out to the car.

You weren’t sick, unless your count baby fever. You were pregnant. Pregnant with a child. Pregnant with Paul’s(?) baby. The two of you were overjoyed and as were the rest of the boys when they found out, although offering if you wanted to have two in there just to ask, not minding the sight of you naked and belly swelling with a child.

And eight and a half months later, two weeks premature, your water broke at midnight. Paul sped to the hospital, mentally timing the distance between your contractions to tell the midwife when you got there. After a while of pushing, swearing, breaking Paul’s fingers, and him nearly dainton at the sight of the head coming out of such a small area, at seven minutes past 8, your son was born.

The boys all crowed around, in awe at the new baby in your arms. “He has his mother’s chin.” Paul notes, grinning from ear to ear. “And his fathers face.” The lads then piped up. “And Ringo’s droopy eyes-” George stated but was Vito off by the man himself “oi, oh yeah actually he does. And John’s nose.” John hummed. “And George’s eye colour and ears.” You all began laughing.

Whoever’s paternal child this may be, he was certainly a gift you yourself, your husband, and the three men who tagged along with you.

131 notes · View notes

marimayscarlett · 6 months

Note

I wonder what kind of costume change we'll be gifted with next summer now that the chicken coat is no more.

Would be fun to see a complete style overhaul for all of them for the new era, but since it's a continuation of the tour, I doubt we will.

Hi!!

I think this is a topic which actually is on a lot of minds throughout the fandom - especially since the chicken coat supposedly found his place for retirement in the Rammstein museum. As it should, it really did a good job and looks like it needs time to rest 👀

I agree with you that new outfits and styles for the whole band would be nice, but I think that either some parts of their wardrobe will be overhauled or maybe some outfits make a come back, which weren't used much or were worn a longer time ago (that's just wishful thinking on my part I guess). I'm especially thinking about the following (plus incudling some thoughts what would fit some of them concerning new outfits, at least imho):

Schneider's really comfortable looking, kind of yoga-suit from this year. He looks so good and relaxed in it, would be nice to see it again 🤍 Anything more lose-fitting or maybe some kind of cape would be really cool to see on him.

picture credit: @iinchicore

Paul's red snake suit (worn in 2019 I think), I really liked the color shade of it and the matching boots! In general would just wish for a little bit more color on him next year - maybe red or something completely different, just something else than the grey suit would be neat.

Regarding Olli, I just really wish for anything which makes him more visible on stage - please no more all black outfits and makeup 🙏 The stage make up from 2022 was absolutely amazing and so unique (thanks to @wizzardclown who reminded me of this!):

picture credit: @derwahnsinn

or Olli in red, which made him visible and made him look pretty arcane in a mystical way:

picture credit: Suzanne Mannifield

With Flake, I really want to see something other than a sparkly suit on him. I know it's his signature look currently and for the last few years, but this guy deserves a different look I think. Maybe something like the various medical scrubs he wore, I really dig this look:

But make it more refined and whimsical. (Funnily enough, even Willy Wonka popped into my head when I thought about potential Flake outfits, please don't ask me what's happening in my brain again)

I'm not the biggest fan of Till's outfits in general, but I liked the style and cut of the snake suit very much! But please, another material would be nice.

My favourite outift of Till will always be the one from Völkerball, it's really unmatched and fits him quite well.

Now, for Richard I have three very defined wishes.

1. The most realistic wish probably: I DEMAND that the vampire coat HAS to stay. This outfit keeps me alive, is the air that I breath and how he lives rent free in my head:

picture credits: @sechsherzen

2. If the vampire coat has to go (god forbid) or a new coat is entering the scene, something studded like this one I'd love:

(My second favourite after the vampire coat)

3. Bring back the Michael Jackson-esque leg belt thing, this was such a look. Would look exceptionally good in combination with his coat:

A kind of chaotic list and these are just my thoughts and opinions 🤍 Now I'm even more excited to see what kind of gems the future tour will bring us style-wise ✨

#Rammstein #rambling over fashion yet again eventhough i know nothing about it #really tried to stay at least a bit realistic #will definitely make a post about with outfit wishes which will have zero chance to come true #just because i can #ask #thank you for this ask!#stage outfits #stage fashion #rammstein tour 2024 #richard kruspe #paul landers #till lindemann #christoph schneider #flake lorenz #oliver riedel

36 notes · View notes

foryouwereinmysong · 11 months

Note

During the interview with Conan a few days ago, Paul slipped up and talked about John in the present tense. In your opinion, do you think he does this consciously because he misses him or unconsciously because he has always been a little in denial? Thanks.

Thank you for the question! I’m looking forward to the whole podcast episode, I saw the clips of it and really loved the interview.

I don’t think this is something one does fully consciously. But I also don’t think that he still is completely in denial. I feel like it probably is caused by the fact that John is still so present for Paul all the time. And reliving memories through the rediscovered photos might intensify the feeling that John is still very much around for him.

I just read Paul’s latest Q&A and this one part fits really well with your question. He talks about how he still misses John so much and is often reminded of him by the smallest details. And Paul talked so much about dreaming of John, which keeps him alive in a way as well. It really shows that the people we love never really go away. So maybe it just doesn’t matter to him if he talks about John in the present or past, because he simply is still with him either way.

#john lennon #paul mccartney #mclennon #eyes of the storm

91 notes · View notes

httpiastri · 4 months

Note

paul's last ig stories 😭😭😭 i just know that he knows something abt lewis and mercedes and also my roman empire is what the fuck happened between him and merc i NEED to know why they went separate ways this year after being together since 2019

PLEASE

the way that he posted this ^^ story hours after his other stories? makes me feel like it wasn't related?? 🤨 paul baby let us in on your secrets....

but also yes same, i would love to hear him talk about it :((( i mean when the rumors about kimi to f2 started, ppl were already saying "merc doesnt like to have two drivers in the same category", which like i get but imo its kinda a weird thing since other academies dont seem to have the same principles 🤷‍♀️ but maybe that's just it and they decided they like kimi more (not surprising since kimi is basically toto's adoptive son). i guess that in the end, it's all just about how many seats they think they have to fill and how many drivers they need to do it. paul just didn't fit into their plan i guess. since lewis is leaving next year, someone's gonna be swapped in there and make another seat available. sadly not three seats (for fred, kimi and paul) 🙃 and it doesnt feel very likely that merc is gonna have that many open seats soon either way

i love love love kimi, i really do, BUT it would be so funny if paul just crushed kimi this year. like imagine the insane revenge arc paul can pull here????? please

#as long as kimi does pretty alright this season im very sure he'll be in f1 in a while #and like as much as i love fred... i just dont think hes as much of a fave as kimi is #idk man i rlly want vesti to drive too but kimi feels more likely #paul go in there and prove them all wrong #make them crawl back to you crying 😚 begging for forgiveness #asks!#anon!

22 notes · View notes

bella-goths-wife · 11 months

Note

hi! i absolutely love your story with the kid reader of the lost boys jabsksnd

i don’t know if this will make sense as a request or if you’ll wanna of it, and i’ll completely understand!!

kid reader maybe around 5-7 years old, getting picked up by the boys from somewhere, like daycare or something, the reader has a little kid fuss about not wanting to put their shoes on, and as one of the dads tries to force the shoes on, they get kicked in the face by the reader !! either it just hurts like hell or they’re wearing sunglasses and it breaks them, the rest is up to you ! this is just such a kid thing to do baksbd

thank you🫶

Home time

Lost boys x reader

You loved your grandpa max. He was your idol, you looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars. That’s why you adored going over to his home. You would spend your time with him doing your hair and teaching you languages or cuddling up with his bell hound and watching movies.

The only time you didn’t like at your grandpas was going home time.

One of the boys would pick you up after feeding and would take you home before putting you to bed on the communal nest which would later turn into your bedroom.

Your fathers didn’t particularly like the arrangement because you tended to have a fit whenever it was time to go home, take tonight for example.

You had spent a great Saturday with your grandpa and the boys had come to pick you up all together this time so they could minimise the tantrum.

“Ready to go princess?” Dwayne says as he wakes up your five year old from the nap you were having on the couch, Dwayne silently cursed max for this because now you would be cranky and you wouldn’t sleep through the night

“No” you mumble out as you close your eyes again

With a sigh Dwayne sits you up gently on the couch and shushes you

“C’mon princess, it’s home time” Dwayne whispers to you gently

“Noo” you whine out in a typical kid fashion “I wanna stay with gramps”

“Well you can’t” David grumbled out and Dwayne shoots him glare

“What daddy means is” Dwayne passive aggressively corrects and David rolls his eyes “we need to go home”

Dwayne picks up your shoes and goes to grab your foot but you weasel your way out of his grasp before sticking out your tongue at him childishly.

“Let me try” marko says as he crouched in front of you “baby, can you be good and let me put your shoes on?”

“No!” You yell out and you try to squirm away

Paul catches you and holds you in his arms. This would have been affectionate if you didn’t smell the weed and blood coming from him, you didn’t know what the smell was or the implications yet but you knew it smelt horrible.

“Can you put your boots on baby?” Paul asks as he sways you in a way that he thinks is comforting but in actuality it makes you nauseous “for your favourite dad?”

You squeal and you squirm to get out of his hold. Marko scolds Paul for letting you go while you run around them, only to run into David.

David picks you up and puts you back on the couch. He gives you a warning glare before he reaches for your shoes. He grabs one of your little booties and then pulls your foot in his hand.

This caused you to squeal and in a reflex your other leg goes back and launches him in the nose. David groans and holds his nose in pain while the others share an ‘oh shit’ expression.

David is about to speak when max enters the room and smirks at the scene

“What did you do little one?” Max asks as he crouched in front of you “did you kick your daddy?”

You nod shyly, worried about getting a scolding from your grandpa. You never got told off by your grandpa but the fear was always there since you saw him yell at your dads.

“I’m sure he did something to deserve it” max says with a smile as he grabs you boots “shall we put your shoes on now?”

You nod and you stick your feet out to him with a giddy smile. Max chuckles as he puts your shoes on and pats your head lovingly before picking you and and kissing your cheek.

“I’ll see you next week sweetheart” he says as he hands you to David with a smirk, it was like a metaphorical middle finger to him

“Good bye boys” max says with a smirk as he watches them grumble and leave.

Dwayne may have been your favourite dad growing up, but max was definitely your favourite person.

#slashers x reader #lost boys x reader #lost boys x child reader #platonic lost boys x reader #yandere lost boys x reader #poly lost boys x reader #yandere lost boys #dad lost boys #the lost boys #lost boy x reader

60 notes · View notes

luv4fandoms · 1 year

Note

Hey boo! I know you’re on like a dwayne kick recently(me too tbh) are you cool with writing angst?? bc i would LOVE some dwayne angst maybe reader gets hurt and he’s just freaking tf out. I LOVED your rut series and know you’d do my justice 💋💋

-💜💚

First off, thank you so much 😭 I hope I did your request justice, and I'm so glad you enjoyed the rut series!

Second...Ok so it's really funny that you asked this Anon cause Dwayne (once again) infiltrated my dreams last night, so part of this is actually from a dream I had, and it just fit so perfectly that I just added onto the dream lol. That is also why the reader has a brother cause it is kinda like my "when you're unaware" story, like idk why but I put one of my brothers in the group in my dreams lol. Anywho! I hope you like it!

Also the girl is hinted at being Demisexual since this is based on a dream I had and I'm Demisexual.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

Don't blame me (Dwayne x Fem!Reader)

Word count: 3,532

Pairing: Dwayne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst!

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Ko-Fi

It wasn't unusual for Dwayne to be quiet, in the months that you had known him he wasn't very talkative unless you started the conversation, and even then, he was more of a listener. Tonight had been much the same, you were all sitting in the cave just hanging out, Paul was sitting by the rock box with Laddie, Marko was sitting on the floor sewing on some patches to his jacket. Star was sitting next to your brother who was currently having a conversation with David, and you were sitting on the couch next to Dwayne. The evening had been full of laughter before that, as your brother and you recalled stupid things you had done as kids, even Dwayne laughing when you spoke of how you epicly failed at skateboarding and swore you wouldn't try it again for your bones sake.

But now he had gone quiet, the sound of the music filling your little corner of silence, and from the corner of your eye you could see him staring at you while you read. He always did this, you noted, stared at you when he thought you weren't looking. Or maybe he knew you knew, maybe he didn't care that you knew. Either way you watched him turn away, looking at the ground in front of his boots.

You could tell he was thinking, he had that very far off look in his eyes that told you he was in his head, something he did when he was stressed. Before suddenly he stood, stating that he was gonna go for a ride, and made his way out before anyone could question it, though maybe it was only you questioning it as everyone just nodded and went back to what they were doing. But you watched him leave, watched him make his way out into the night, listened as his bike came to life before speeding off into the distance. Something wasn't right, in months you had known them Dwayne never just went for a ride by himself, though judging by the others it was something he had done before, but you had always seen him take Laddie along, or he would offer you a joyride.

He had seemed so lost in thought, in an almost somber way and it made your heart ache at the thought that he was upset for some reason. Your brain immediately thinking back on everything you had said that night, searching for anything that may have upset him, were you the cause of his mood? Or was it something else? You sat in your little corner of silence, mind racing and turning everything over and over for what, after looking at your watch, was about two hours…

Two hours and he still hadn't come back, you knew he wasn't hunting because they had hunted earlier, the knot in your stomach twisted as your brain pictured all the things that could be wrong, even flashing on if there were, somehow, hunters in town. Making up your mind you quickly stood and grabbed your brother's keys, jogging up the steps, throwing back a quick. "out" when your brother asked you where you were going. He had taught you how to use his bike…somewhat.

You were still very new and very unsure about it, preferring to just ride with one of them, but you couldn't wait around anymore, something was wrong, and it worried you. So with a quick kick the bike came alive, and you slowly took off, a little wobbly, but moving.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

Dwayne had to get out of the cave, he knew he should just talk to you but he couldn't, what was he supposed to say? That he realized he was in love with you? That he thought it was just an interest in the start because your personalities melded well together? That he thought the reason he accepted you so quickly was because you were one of his pack mate's sister, but really, he's come to realize, was because he's been in love with you from the start?

He still remembers when your brother introduced you to them all at the boardwalk, you were so nervous but you played it off like you were calm, but he could hear your heart racing. He watched you stay by your brother's side that night, finding solace in him, a familiar presence, and Dwayne found himself wanting you to find that same solace in his presence. He watched you instantly become friends with Laddie, taking the small boy on any ride he wanted to, even if you were dizzy and nauseous afterwards, just to see Laddie smile. He listened as you talked about your nieces and nephews that were around Laddie's age, and how you were often the babysitter, but all Dwayne could see was how amazing of a mother you would be for Laddie.

As the days turned into weeks you became more comfortable around them all, dancing around the cave with Paul, sewing with Marko, even discussing books with David. Star became like your sister, and Laddie soon took on the role of your son, even if neither one of you really noticed. Weeks turned into months and you were more often than not, by his side, preferring his quiet nature than the rowdiness of the others. He had lost track of how many nights the two of you would just sit on that beat up couch and talk, well, you would talk, he preferred to listen.

You were so animated when you told him stories of friends and family, memories of childhood or just random things you had learned throughout your life. He honestly could listen to you forever, your voice soothing to him, a sound that could even calm the beast when he hadn't fed. Not that he would stay around you long if he hadn't, he couldn't risk it, he had control over himself, but sometimes, sometimes you smelled a little too good in a different way. That was another thing, your smell, he had first smelled it when you met, that sweet floral scent that reminded him of a mortal life past, but also of amazing nights in this life.

It was a scent he couldn't name other than a word that came to his mind a few weeks into your friendship…Home. He would let it fill his senses when you rode on the back of his bike, allowing himself to unabashedly bask in it while you were unaware, he would never admit that this was the selfish reason he had you ride on the back of his bike when Laddie wasn't with the group, that and the feeling of your arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, your happy screams and laughter filling his ears as he sped down the beach, he would smile and laugh along, sharing your joy as you drew yourself closer to him, always closer, but never close enough…

Not in the way he wanted to be, he was sure of that. You had told him before, how you never found anyone really attractive unless you formed an emotional bond with them, he was sure you only saw him as a friend and nothing more, whereas he wanted to be so much more. He wanted to hold you when you were upset, laugh with you when you were happy, hug you just because he wanted to, kiss you just because he could. He wanted to give you everything he was…

But that came with a part of him he didn't want you anywhere near. You had never seen them change, never watched them hunt, and he didn't know if he would ever want you to, because deep down he was terrified that the true realization of what they, what he was, would cause you to run away from him, and he couldn't handle that.

"Hey, did Y/N find you?" Your brother asked, looking over at him. Found him? He must have worn a confused expression because the man became visibly concerned.

"She left a little while after you, we figured she was going to find you" he added, as the others now turned to look at Dwayne.

"She took off on B/N's bike" Paul stated, and Dwayne could feel the dread start to creep in, they had taught you how to drive sure, but you were still so new, so wobbly and unstable when you drove. Without a second thought Dwayne found himself running back to his bike, quickly starting it and taking off to find you.

��🦇🦇🦇

You had searched the boardwalk first, then the pier, every quiet place you figured Dwayne would hang out, and still, nothing. You were becoming more worried as you followed the paths that Dwayne would take and still hadn't found him, there was only one more place to look. It was a ways out, a quiet little space that Dwayne said he went to just get away, you had felt so honored to be taken there, to be let into his world a little more. You would be lying if you had said that you hadn't been drawn to the quiet man as soon as you two met.

Sure you were nervous as heck to meet your brother's friends, but there was just something about him that eased your worry. You had always been called picky by your friends when it came to guys, but you couldn't help it, your heart and brain just worked differently. You didn't see people in that way unless you felt an emotional bond with them, maybe it was a way to stop yourself from getting hurt again, or maybe you were just waiting for the right one. But something about Dwayne pulled you in, it wrapped around you, and soon enough you were realizing you had a crush on him.

As the weeks turned into months you realized that the crush had developed into love. How could it not though? Dwayne was always so careful with you, so tender and caring. He would pull you closer if he felt like you were cold at the boardwalk, or take Laddie on rides if he felt like you needed a break from the constant movement.

That was another thing, seeing him with Laddie made your heart absolutely melt. There was always something about seeing guys who were good with kids that made you smile, but the way that Dwayne was with Laddie made you so soft. Then there was how much of a good listener he was, you were so used to guys zoning out, completely ignoring you, or interrupting you to change the subject that having someone give you their undivided attention while you spoke was so foreign, and yet, so refreshing. But he would, he would seemingly hang onto every word, even if it was a story you yourself thought was silly halfway through it, Dwayne wouldn't let you stop, always asking what happened next.

You had never felt so seen, so protected and yet so free with someone. You still remember the first time he got you on the back of his bike, you were so scared and honestly afraid you would hurt him by how tight you were squeezing, but he only laughed, a sound that had your heart jumping and you swore you wanted to hear it more often. You had peaked over his shoulder, the beach flyinv past you, but you also saw the smile he wore, eyes flashing back to yours for only a moment before returning to the sand in front of him, but he looked so calm, so free. So despite your fear you allowed yourself to relax, and soon realized why he felt that way.

Those rides happened more often after that, anytime Laddie wasn't riding with him, you were, excited screams when he would come off the boardwalk quickly, or go around a sharp turn. Happy laughter as he sped down the beach, the wind in your hair. It really wasn't surprising that you had fallen for him. Which was also why you were so worried about him, you needed to know why he was upset, and if there was anything you could do…

Or if you were for some reason the cause of it. Riding along the beach you finally made your way up the small hill to the lookout point, but again, no Dwayne. You felt like you could cry at this point, you didn't know where else to look to find him, knowing that he probably had other secret places. You thought that maybe he would have gone back to the cave, maybe you were looking around for nothing, at least you could hope for that scenario. Deciding to head back to the cave to see, you went to turn the bike but instead accidentally gave it too much gas, shooting forward and over the small hump of the hill.

It wasn't a tall hill, but it was enough of a cliff that when the front tire made contact with air, it quickly angled down, and your body followed with it. Landing with a hard thud, you managed to land on your side and not your neck but what you hadn't accounted for were the rocks at the bottom. So as you slid down the hill, the bike now pushing you along as it rolled with you on its side as well, your head slammed into a large rock, causing your vision to quickly fade to black, and the sounds of the running bike disappearing into the nothingness.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

Dwayne had checked everywhere and still he couldn't find you, if he had a heart he swore it would be beating out of his chest. You weren't at the boardwalk or the pier, he hadn't seen you so far on the beach, where could you have gone? And why did you go looking for him? He had thought he hid his emotions well, but had you noticed? You must have.

Did you watch him as closely as he watched you? Had you really cared that much about him to take off into the night, unstable and unsure, just to find him? You were crazy if you did, but then again, maybe so was he. If he had just come out and said something the two of you wouldn't be on the wild chase to find one another.

He just hoped nothing had happened, he didn't know what he would do if you were hurt. Suddenly remembering the spot he had taken you to about a month ago he realized he hadn't checked there, revving his engine he took off across the sand faster. He wasn't far from the spot, it wouldn't take him long to ride up the hill and check. But the sound of another bike made him slow, was that you?

Had he finally found you? Could the two of you finally stop the game of cat and mouse? No…No the engine was running but it wasn't moving, it wasn't coming back down the path towards him, it was just idling…and it wasn't where you should have been if you were at the top. As soon as he rounded the corner he felt his heart stop all over again.

'No no no'

He quickly stopped his bike, not even bothering to put the kickstand down as it fell on the sand while he ran towards you, quickly pushing the bike off of you and turning it off. Luckily it hadn't been sitting on your skin to where it would have burned you, but you still hadn't moved. Gently lifting your head the scent of blood filled his nose and he felt his breath catch, the red liquid was covering one side of your face, sand sticking to the drying liquid. It seemed like it had stopped bleeding but there was still a lot.

"Y/N" he spoke quietly, unshed tears brimming his eyes as he looked you over. He could still hear your heartbeat, and it wasn't faint which gave him some relief, you also didn't seem to have any broken bones. He pulled you to him, his hand coming up to try and wipe away some of the blood.

"Please, open your eyes" he spoke again, voice unable to become any louder, he knew a lot could happen to a human when they hit their head too hard, what if you never woke up again, what if he never got to hear your voice again? Never got to see you smile, or hear your laugh, never got to see you play with Laddie again…Never got to tell you he loved you.

"Please" he called again, closing his eyes as he held you closer, this couldn't be how it all ended, he would change you before he let that happen, he didn't care if you hated him after, you would be safe, you would be ok.

"Dwayne" you voice softly called, a warm hand pressing to his cheek, a cheek he didn't realize was wet with tears that had fallen unknowingly.

"Y/N" he breathed, meeting your gaze as you looked up at him, cradled safely in his arms.

"You're ok. I was worried" you said with a small smile, you really were worried about him, and that worry made you search…And it made you get hurt.

"You're hurt" he stated, trying to compose himself.

"I'm ok, just a little bump" you reassure him, but he just shook his head.

"You shouldn't have went looking for me, if you hadn't then…Then this.." but he couldn't finish his sentence, because you were pulling him towards you, lips gently pressing against his before he deepened the kiss, pouring everything out into that moment. He swore that if, for some reason he did die in that moment, he could die happy now that he finally got to kiss you. When you parted though you smiled at him, resting your forehead against his chest as he held you.

"You can't blame me, love makes you crazy" you spoke against his skin and he felt the smile before he even registered it. You loved him…You loved him too.

"I don't blame you, why do you think I raced back out when they told me you went looking for me" he explained, your eyes meeting as you looked up at him, lost in each other's gaze for a moment.

"Why did you leave?" You asked, and he took a moment to answer, wiping more of the blood off of your skin, honestly shocked he wasn't tempted to drink it, maybe that's what fear does to them.

"Because I didn't know how to deal with the fact that I love you when I thought you only saw me as a friend"

"Bet you feel silly now" you spoke softly, smiling up at him.

"I do" he stated, looking at your wound, which luckily now that he could see it better, wasn't that deep.

"But you still shouldn't have come after me" he told you.

"No, that's not how this works. I was worried, I would chase after you again if I had to" you told him, watching as he shook his head before leaning down and catching your lips in a kiss again.

"Crazy girl" he spoke against them.

"Your crazy girl?" You asked, you both may have confessed but you still wanted to be sure.

"My crazy girl" he smiled, kissing you once more before lifting you up and carrying you back to his bike.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

"So what you're saying is…you wrecked my bike"

"I didn't mean to! Look I can pay for anything I broke ok just tell me-"

"I'm just messing with you, I'm glad you're ok, don't do that shit again got it! So where is my bike exactly?" Your brother asked Dwayne, and you watched as Dwayne explained where it was before offering to take him.

"No you stay here with her so she doesn't do anything stupid again" he told him before leaving.

"I'll have to find another secret spot for you" you stated, watching your brother leave.

"It's ok. I like that spot more now"

"But it's not secret anymore"

"Maybe not…But it is where we said I love you for the first time" he smiled, leaning down to kiss you again.

"You're so cheesy" you giggled

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up.

#the lost boys #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys dwayne #dwayne tlb #dwayne #tlb dwayne #dwayne the lost boys #dwayne x female reader #tlb dwayne x reader #dwayne x reader #vampire x reader #vampire #the lost boys angst #tlb angst #asks and answers

253 notes · View notes