#I’m working on tempo I swear—

[wuzhiqi-enj0yer]

Wasp……..girl,,,,,,,,

[steele-holt-and-murphy]

Ok, my firefly files are in a much lower resolution than I remember. I’m working on fixing that right now, because I will still be posting gifs and such. In the mean time, anyone interested in gif sets from other shows or movies? This blog is generally for stuff that has been discontinued for a good few years. I’m open to suggestions, or I could just start posting gifs from shows I’ve recently saved. Let me know what you guys think!

[leclercss]

Paris, je t'aime (Charles Leclerc), Part 3

Masterlist

plot: it's almost three years since your tumultuous relationships with Lewis and Charles came crashing down. but you find your self in a new city with new beginnings and new ways to fuck up your love life. that's no thanks to a cheeky frenchman who's set you up on a double date with someone oh so familiar.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating, violence and some swearing

authors note: part trois, enjoy. i literally wrote this and accidentally deleted my draft. fml. this chapter is going to focus on Charles' perspective of the break up. it may explain a lot of his feelings, i hope you enjoy

word count: 5.2k

taglist: @toppersjeep @janeholt3, @princess-siba, @nichmeddar, @tremendousandsonorouswords, @cmleitora, @victoriaholland, @amalialeclerc, @queensofshinigamis, @tempo-rary-fix, @starmanv, @happylittlereader, @trouble-sistar, @lightdragonrayne, @persephonemv1, @dreamingofautopia

'I’m so grateful that I got the chance to see you again.

Amour xxx ’

Charles has reread this part of the note at least 20 times already. His emotions have been conflicted every since he woke to the emptiness of your side of the bed this morning. Well, it wasn't really your side, just where you slept last night. Or for however long you were there for before you decided to flee. When he rolled over this morning, expecting his arm to wrap around your soft skin, all he felt was nothingness before his arm fell onto the mattress below him. Confused, he opened his eyes to see that you had gone and all that remained was the faint smell of your perfume and a small note.

He immediately grabbed it and was expecting the worst. Had you regretted seeing him again and took the first opportunity to flee? Because you had tried to leave a couple of times yesterday but only for Charles' resistance and pleas, you would have left. And Charles was unsure if you would ever want to see him again.

Could he blame you though ? I mean, he was a total asshole to you last night. If he was being honest to himself, some part of Charles enjoyed being an asshole towards you yesterday. After everything you had put him through three years ago, you deserved to feel some sort of pain or embarrassment. You had left him for a shitty husband, after all. A man who had cheated on you so many times and only seemed to care for your existence when he felt threatened. Which was what your husband had felt when it came you and Charles because at one point in time, you and Charles had loved each other. The two of you were in deep and when things finally felt like they had a chance for the two of you, you threw it back in Charles' face and decided to move away (more like run away in Charles' eyes) to New York with ... fuck, he even hated the thought of his name after all of this time ... Lewis.

The thought of him made Charles' blood boil to this day. He had only ever come across Lewis twice in person but that smug face remained imprinted in his mind. And at night, as he lay alone, Charles' thoughts often drifted to that dinner at Nusr Et where you were celebrating your birthday with Lewis. Unknowingly, Charles and his friends were also having dinner there that night.

Because fate had a funny way of working, the two of you were occupying two tables beside each other and Charles now found himself just two metres away from your husband and he couldn't hide the horror he was feeling. And neither could you, because you went into some weird silent state of panic.

Confused, Lewis had tried to comfort you but couldn't miss the theatrics that were happening on the tables opposite of him. Lewis just had to take one look at you and he understood that Charles, this stranger on the table beside you, was your lover. To everyone else, you hid it behind some heavy champagne drinking that had now taken over your body, but to Lewis it was all of the confirmation he needed. After months of trying to win you back, he had finally found the man who was occupying half of his wife's heart. Unable to have you to himself any more, Lewis decided that he was going to destroy Charles in a shameful display of arrogance, dick-swinging and lust.

In the moment, it had worked. Charles' was humiliated but he wasn't going to give up on you that easily. Lewis couldn't get away with his behaviour any longer, Charles thought. But then he did because one day you had come over to Charles' flat and your ring was no longer on your finger and to Charles, it meant that you were finally single. The two of you could finally be together and he could finally make love to you knowing that you were free from the restraints of your marriage.

But after you had had sex, Charles started talking about the next stage of your lives together. After all, it only felt natural now that you had broken up with Lewis. But you hadn't, he was moving to New York. And so were you...

Lewis and New York had sealed the fate in yours and Charles relationship. It was over, done. He was angry, traumatised, confused but most of all, he was heart broken.

He tried to hate you and at some point, he was sure that his efforts had paid off. Eventually the hatred had become exhausting, or at least trying to hate you was exhausting. After you had left, Charles felt that everything in London had reminded him of you and so he took the opportunity to flee. He had moved back to Monaco for a while, hoping that being at home somewhat healed him. It didn't. Monaco was more relaxing than London and it gave him more time to think, to think about you. He needed somewhere busy. He'd always wanted to move to New York but now, fuck that place.

One day, he reconnected with a childhood friend, Pierre, who was now living in Paris and thought that Paris would be busy enough to occupy his life and his mind. He never told Pierre why he was so open to move. Just that Monaco was a little quiet for a single man in his mid-twenties. So off to Paris and for Charles it occupied his mind, at least for a while. He kept himself busy with work and girls but none of them healed him deep down. No matter what he did, he always thought of you and he always thought about how you were living your life in New York.

Were you happy? How did you get used to living and working in the States? Did you miss home? Did you have babies yet? Were you still married? How was it so easy for you to leave Charles? Did you just use him to get back at your husband? Did you ever really love him? Did you ever even think about him? Even a little? Did you still love him like he knew he loved you?

He had so many questions to ask and none of them had been answered, until now. The funny thing was, despite it being Charles' truth for the last three years, you had never went to New York. And you were now divorced from Lewis.

Charles’ eyes drift back to the note and his anxiety about you not wanting to see him again after all this time had disappeared. You had said that you were happy to see him. His heart fluttered when he saw that five letter word, “Amour”. It clearly still meant something to you and it still meant something to Charles. You were his only Amour.

Feeling tired, Charles shuts his eyes and he realises that you were right. You both needed some time to clear your heads because this situation was fucked up. And while his body felted exhausted from the events of last night, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

Fate was a funny thing and it had somehow brought you back into each other’s lives. As much as he complained about him, Charles was grateful for Pierre. For months Pierre had been harassing Charles to go on dates but Charles, who was much more into just straight fucking than romance these days, was hesitant. He still wasn’t over you and knew that deep down he’d compare every woman to you, despite the two of you having a fucked up relationship.

However, Pierre wasn’t a man to take no as an answer. He was convinced he was the modern day Cupid after all. If taking each of your girlfriends to a PSG match as your first date made you the god of romance, Charles was fine to let Pierre have that title.

But Pierre was like a dog with a bone, he wasn’t letting the one go. He was going to help Charles, who one night drunkenly confused that the only reason he was single was because one woman broke his heart, move on with his life. And there was no better person for him to get over you with than … you.

Pierre had exhausted many opportunities when it came to setting Charles up on a date. From Kika’s model friends, to setting up a Tinder account on Charles’ behalf, to taking him out to clubs. Nothing did the trick. Charles was hopeless.

But then Pierre, god of romance reborn, knew of the perfect person to set Charles up with.

“Charlie, I promise you’ll love her. She’s just as tragic as you are,” Pierre boasted like it was a good thing to be this bad at love.

“You’re really selling the dream here, Pierre,” Charles grunted, at the time he was too busy being preoccupied by FIFA to take Pierre’s proposition seriously.

“No, I’m serious. She’s moved here about six months ago from abroad. She’s divorced and thirty so what’s more tragic than that?”

Christ, Pierre really knew how to find these girls.

“She’s got the best tits, ask Kika. And… oh…. Wait a minute. She lived in London the same time that you did. Maybe you know her?”

Charles grunted once more. “Pierre, ten million people live in London. There’s no fucking chance I know her”.

“Alright, alright,” Pierre protested. “But I’m serious, bro. She’s fucking awesome, she’s just had a hard time at love.”

Feeling a little guilty, Charles conceded.

“Fine! I’ll go on a date with her,” Charles sighed. “But I’m not going on a blind date. Show me a picture so I can confirm she’s at hot as you say she is”.

With smirk like a Cheshire Cat spread across his face, Pierre tossed his phone to Charles.

“Here you go, lover boy”.

With Charles’ expectations at an all time low, he grabbed Pierre’s phone and looked at the picture on the screen.

Oh.

My.

God.

He wants to rub his eyes so he’s sure not seeing things but Pierre already thinks he’s weird enough as it is. It’s..

“Hot, right?”

Charles can barely get his words out, instead he just offers a nod.

“I… what’s… what’s her name?”

“[Y/N]”.

And as soon as the date was set and he knew that he was finally going to lay eyes on you after all of this time, he thought about how he was going to approach your date.

After quizzing Pierre as much as he could about you without raising too much suspicion, Charles felt like he held all of the cards. He had found out that you were divorced, had been in Paris for six months and were basically a mess when it came to your love life.

He’d tried to find out more about your life in New York that led to your divorce but apparently you didn’t want to talk about it that much. And when Charles asked Kika, who he was sure would spill the beans, she gave him nothing.

“She knows nothing about you so I’m not giving you any more details, okay? I’m already pissed that Pierre showed you her picture. It was supposed to be a blind date”.

Charles would cut his losses. But he had found out the important thing that you were divorced from Lewis. A petty part or him was gleeful. You’d have your tail between your legs now. Breaking Charles’ heart didn’t pay off and he wasn’t going to let you forget it.

And as your date rolled around, Charles put a plan into motion.

Step 1: Look hot as fuck ✅

Step 2: Turn up to the restaurant fifteen minutes later than planned. He wanted you nervous and off your guard. If he was going to control the evening, he needed you on edge ✅

Step 3: Try not to fall in love with you all over again as soon as he sees you …

Skipping straight to Step 4: Act as calm and collected as possible. Lead the conversation and if possible, convince her to leave the restaurant to come back to Charles’ for a “deeper chat” ✅

Step 5: Casually ask her about New York and hope that she regrets ever leaving him.

Well, the first part of Step 5 was executed. Everything after that was an utter shit show. Because you pulled an UNO reverse card on his sorry ass and now he couldn’t think straight.

The last three years of his life were a lie. And he didn’t know how to compute it all.

And he lays there in his bed, eyes still closed, he begins to feel guilty about how he spoke to you. How he taunted you about your divorce with Lewis and how your love life had been so pathetic that Pierre and Kika had to hold some sort of intervention. It’s funny, because they’d done the same to him. And maybe that’s what made him act at you so much. Because despite spending three years trying to hate you, you were in the same position as he was. And maybe that meant he hated himself too?

He didn’t have time to analyse that because clearly you weren’t here to tolerate bullshit any more. Your marriage had clearly fed you enough bullshit that you had reached your capacity and were ready to call out anyone who wasn’t treating you properly.

Feeling vulnerable, wounded and not ready for you to walk out of his life again just as you had come back into it, Charles threw one last Hail Mary to catch your attention, he was going to hit you were it hurt.

“Sorry, baby thought you were into men who treated you like shit”.

He wasn’t sure what hurt more. The slap you had given him or the look in your eyes. Broken, horrified. Charles had done that to you, just like you had done to him.

Maybe you were even now. It was petty for him to try and even keep score but Charles felt some sort of closure. He had made you feel just some of the pain that you had given him. And for what? Was it even worth it? Because, as you caressed his face to heal him, you had told Charles about how your life never went as he had believed or expected. Instead, your life was totally different.

And while he was saddened that you had never reached out to build some sort of amends, he was thankful that you didn’t settle into your job and life in the States and that you and Lewis didn’t in fact stay married and have lots of babies.

No, you grown up and even after all this time, you still cared about him.

Some, not all, of the wounds were beginning to heal and he couldn’t help but look at you like he was in love you with again. Because maybe a part of him still was. He just had to look at you for one second back at the restaurant in that peach dress for you to have his heart beating the same way it did the night that you had first met.

You had spent some time talking before the air in the room began to change. Charles was pretty sure it was him that initiated it but the two of you found yourselves in a soft and gentle kiss which only escalated within a matter of time.

Soon, he had pulled you onto his lap and your hands ran all over his body. Charles mentally patted himself on the back for not letting his appearance go because you were hot and bothered as your fingers traced over his skin. Him too feeling hot and bothered, Charles did his very best to get as much of your body out your dress as possible. He had kindly reminded you on a few occasions that the dress you were wearing was meant to get you laid that night.

And he planned on being the guy who was going to do that for you.

Soon, he was sucking on your nipples and every part of your exposed skin could find.

Fuck, he was getting hard underneath you. No wait, was he just hard now as he lay in bed, thinking about last night? Nope. It was both. He was hard last night and he’s been even harder now.

Because last night he had the chance to fondle with you, slip his fingers into your panties before teasing your clit. Where as now, all he has is his own hand to please himself. It’ll have to do because his dick is almost throbbing at the sound of your moans in his ears.

“Fuck Charles,” you gasped. Your voice sends tingles down his spine just it like it used to.

His eyes still closed, Charles runs his hand up and down his shaft. Shit, he wishes it was you that had their hand wrapped around his dick but his own is doing the job and he has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from moaning.

“Oh, Charles,” there you go again, moaning in his ear as he slips his fingers into you, your breasts bouncing in his face and latches onto your nipples once more. You’re so sensitive that your squeal has Charles’ cock twitching.

Holy shit, the thought of you is having him close to cumming already. His hand is moving faster against his dick and he gently thrusts up into it and in his memory, he thrusts his fingers up further inside of you. But this time you don’t pull yourself off of him, in his mind and in his fantasy, you begin to ride against his fingers.

Moans pour out of your mouth as you tell him how much you’ve missed him and how you want to cum so badly.

“Cum for me, amour,” he tells you as you moan at the sound of him calling you amour once more.

You’re close, the movements in your hip falter and Charles too feels that the cock in his hand as almost at its peak.

“Please, Charles. Fuck!”

“Charles, I’ve missed this,” you moan. And after one last big thrust, you cum undone on his fingers.

“Fuck!” Charles grown and he soon opens his eyes as he finishes himself off. His cum soon spills onto his lower abdomen.

Shit.

That felt good.

As his finally starts to catch his breath, Charles rests his head back on the pillow. All it took for him to fall for you again was one disastrous blind date. You have him hooked.

Ready to go to the bathroom to wash away his cum and his busy thoughts, Charles hears his phone buzz.

Grabbing it, he smiles around the phone.

‘Pierre: Charlie, I haven’t heard from you. How did it go? Did you…”

Charles chuckles and pauses before he responds.

‘Mate, I owe you. I think I’m in love with her already’.

[bidisasterevankinard]

Inspiration Saturday

Hi everyone!!!!! I'm finally back to writing after hard times and I'm back with angst for this secret wip I named you left me (at least for now)

tagged by @daffi-990 @steadfastsaturnsrings thank you <33333

playlist + snippet

Bobby quickly brings them up to date on what happened and where they need help 136 with. Eddie finds himself paired with Buck, who only greeted him quietly, after which he continued to work as if Eddie wasn't here at all, without asking for help with anything. Eddie feels like he's back on his first day at work, only then Buck wanted Eddie not to be part of the team, and now he wants Eddie to just disappear. Painful. Considering they both swore there was no one more important for them, except Chris of course. 

“So, hello and silence it’s all I'm getting?” Eddie tries to say it without the sadness in his voice, and he succeeds. But his voice sounds angry, like he blames Buck, accusing him for the silent treatment he is getting over the last two weeks.

Remembering it was him who asked, or better say stated that they need a break - he should have stayed on sadness.

Before Eddie can even curse himself for his stupid decision  - he can’t say about which one exactly the whole break thing or blaming of Buck - he proved it was a bad idea to talk like that with Buck by angry dark, like the skies during the thunderstorm, eyes. Eddie swallows when he swears he can see the lightning flashes inside them. 

“It's you, who wanted a break, Eddie. What am I doing wrong now? Giving you too much space? Well, you asked about it,” Buck hisses the last part and leaves him alone. He says something to Bosco who worked with Ravi. She then looks at him not impressed and goes to Eddie to take Buck’s place as his partner, while Buck starts to work with Ravi.

“He deserves better than the ex-not-ex-boyfriend to try to make him feel bad, as he is the villain in the story, for keeping the distance he was asked about by this exact ex-not-ex-boyfriend,” she pins him with such a stare Eddie surprised he is still standing and not falling dead on the place, before starts working. “Not saying that you’re a villain, but even though you have your reasons to ask about time, you have no right,” she again sends the same killing look, “no right to talk to him like that.”

“I know, I just” Eddie sights, kicking the part of the car on the road, “I hate all this situation and I hate my brain for destroying the best relationships I had. I hate that therapy about it not taking me anywhere and Frank tells me it’s because I need to talk to Buck about the problem why I asked about the break when Buck was ready for more for us. When he was so Buck to tell me we can do anything in my tempo, but my fucked up head chose the break, thinking it’s for the best, but,” Eddie looks at the way Buck barely smile on definitely a good joke from Ravi, “but it only leads for nights without sleep, our son looks at me like I’m an idiot. Everyone cast sympathetic glances, and Buck … Buck is not even talking to me while we are working. I just want everything to be ok again. I want everything to be easy. Magical,” another kick to the pure tyre. 

“Life is not a fairytale, Diaz. Nothing, especially relationships, are ever easy. So talk to Buckley sooner or, trust me, you will regret you hadn’t. Because right now this man is slipping through your fingers faster than you can imagine,” on than Lena removes the last piece of metal from the road and their work is done.

The blonde woman does not even say goodbye to him, getting back to her team, taking the place near Buck, which should be his. But not now. 

Maybe never again.

tagging @wikiangela @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @rainbow-nerdss @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @transboybuckley @pirrusstuff @anakinfallen @aspecbuddie @andrewblur @shortsighted-owl @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @fortheloveofbuddie @ghostscowboys @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @hoodie-buck @housewifebuck @hippolotamus @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @callmenewbie @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @buddierights @mandzuking17 @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @jamespearce9-1-1

[sleepanonymous]

hello fellow worshipper ^^

so from most of II’s drum cams i’ve seen, you can barely hear Vessel’s vocals… like do you think that ever makes him sad? not being able to properly hear his pretty siren voice on stage? :(

ofc feel free to ignore, i’m just a curious dude :)

Heeey, thank you for the ask! And I’d never ignore you or anyone else (on purpose, but my object permanence is as bad as a newborn's, lol) 🖤🖤

So, I have two answers for you. My first answer is that, yes, II probably does feel some type of way about not hearing Vessel’s amazing live singing (or even the Vesselettes, or III and IV). It’s obvious he’s a fan of the music he writes with Vessel, and he gets really into it during certain songs like Atlantic, where pauses between the percussion parts exist. But if it makes you feel better, II absolutely loves what he does and fully kills it every time he goes on stage. I’m sure it’s a sacrifice he willingly makes.

My second answer is much more technical and would apply to any touring drummer/musician, not just Sleep Token, so I’m just gonna shove it under a cut to hide my nerdiness, lol (and also not to shatter anyone's illusion with how much planning and work goes into live performances).

What we hear in II’s live drum playthroughs and what II hears while playing is a lot different. Performing musicians wear unique earplugs/earphones called in-ear monitors (I’ll abbreviate them to IEMs). The IEMs have several purposes, mainly to protect musicians’ hearing and allow them to hear themselves and backtracks while performing over everything else during a concert (because concerts are loud, obviously lol). But the IEMs also enable the musicians to hear other things, like the stagehands/sound techs can speak to them, they’ll more often than not have a metronome going, and they may even have spoken cues like, “Verse Two in 4 3 2 1.”

I can guarantee that II has at least a metronome going during all of Sleep Token’s rituals. Since none of the band really speaks on stage (I don’t count III’s yelling), II also might have either Sam (his drum tech) or an automated voice telling him what song he’s playing next, along with a numbered countdown for the beginning of the song. II might even get in-the-moment verbal queues from Sam, or Sleep Token’s FOH, Thom.

This isn’t Sleep Token, but the video below is an excellent example of what I’m talking about. I don't expect everyone to watch the whole thing but it's great, tempo changes, count-ins, and everything. Flash warning, just in case.

The two screenshots are from the same video and add a bit more information on what a musician might hear in their IEMs during live shows.

I might be alone here, but I really wish Sleep Token would release at least one of the live drum recordings with an in-ear mix like the video above. I’d nerd out so hard over hearing exactly what II or any of the other Eepy guys (especially Vessel during The Summoning, omg) are hearing live in their IEMs.

I know there are people who do mockups on YouTube of Popstar’s supposed IEM mixes and I swear if I had any musical knowledge or video editing skills it would be my self-proclaimed mission to put an in-ear mix into all of Sleep Token's live shows 😅😅

[duckymcdoorknob]

GONNA PUT THESE IN BEFORE I GO TO THE DENTIST

There has been numerous occasions that Alhaitham literally (bluntly) teases Kaveh with the feather he usually has in his hair.

SENSITIVE👏AF👏HIPS👏

Man is SCREECHING over a small squeeze, and it's oh so close to a seagulls cry too lmfao

THIS IS ALL I CAN DO FOR NOW, ILY MUAH MUAH 💖

I’m totally fucking writing a fic off of this brb-

Bear with me, I’ve only met the roomies through their voice lines and the new event

Tickles below the cut in this household

“You’re lucky that I’m too young and pretty to go to prison.” The architect growled as he turned his back to his roommate for the nth time.

For some reason, that Kaveh could not seem to wrap his mind around, Al Haitham had been testing his last nerve all day.

“And yet you’re still older than me.” The scribe deadpanned, plucking the inky paintbrush out of the blonde’s hand.

“Hah! You didn’t deny that I was- wha- hey! Give that back” Kaveh whined, standing up and knocking his chair over.

Al Haitham held the utensil above his head, his expression not changing. “How precious… poor thing can’t keep his mind in order.”

“Will you just- Ugh!” Kaveh jumped and retrieved his paintbrush, glaring at the scribe. He scoffed and sat back down, unrolling the blueprint he was priorly working on.

Al Haitham waited for the architect to return to his work, then carefully removed the feather from the blonde head of hair in front of him.

Unbeknownst to Kaveh, his annoying roommate had gotten hold of something that was going to quickly ruin his plans. All seemed fine, and his focus was back in order, until he felt a foreign feeling brush along his left ear.

A squeak left his mouth as he recoiled and whipped his head around. “AL HAITHAM!” He roared, standing up from his chair once more. “Give me my feather back!”

As he had done earlier, the gray-haired male held the feather above his head, this time sporting a smug grin.

“Do you want my attention or something? You’ve got it right here!” The architect replied, using his roommate’s shoulder for balance and scaling him like a mountain.

The gray-haired male exhaled in amusement as he easily wrapped an arm around the older’s waist, and pulled him close to his face. “You’re so in love with me, it’s painful.”

“Y-You-!” Kaveh stuttered as his face flushed red. “J-Just give me my damn- hYAH!”

Both stopped dead in their tracks, the blonde’s face growing even an deeper shade of cherry red.

“Kaveh are you-” The scribe retracted his hand from his roommate’s waist immediately

“S-Shut up, just-“

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was just messing around with you.”

Kaveh had never seen his roommate look so guilty in his life. He instantly went on the offense to help Al Haitham feel better. “No, no, I swear you didn’t hurt me. I’m sorry to make you worry. I’m just a bit sensitive around the area near my waist.”

A glint of malice shone like a star in the gray-haired male’s eyes. “Sensitive? What do you mean, Kaveh?”

Al Haitham was closing in fast, and Kaveh felt his embarrassment returning. “N-Nothing. Forget I had said anyt-hihihing. Wahahahait! Ahahahal Hahahaithahaham!” The architect whined.

“Aren’t you just so precious?” Al Haitham teased as his hands squeezed at the blonde’s sides in a calculated tempo.

“Dohohohont tehehease mehehehe!” The architect cried as he pushed against his roommate’s face.

Naturally, Al Haitham is built like a brick shithouse, so Kaveh didn’t do anything besides give the gray-haired male the upper hand. The scribe wasted no time grabbing both of the blonde’s wrists and holding them in one hand.

“Yohohohourehehe suhuhuhuch ahaha bahahastahahard! NGH-“ Kaveh squeezed his eyes shut as his nose scrunched; Al Haitham had just struck gold. “WAITWAITWAHAHAHAIT!”

“Wait for what? An invitation?” Al Haitham quipped in his usual monotone, drilling his right thumb into the architect’s left hip. “Seems like I found a sensitive spot, eh, roomie?”

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” Kaveh twisted in vain as he pushed his body against his “assailant”

“Please what?”

“BEHEHE CAHAHAREHEFUHUHUL!”

“Oh? Be careful? You aren’t begging me to stop? How cute…”

“STAHAHAP TEHEHEASIHIHING MEHEHE!”

“But why? Would you rather me focus on tickling you better instead?” With this comment, the gray-haired male released his roommate’s wrists and used both hands to knead circles into Kaveh’s hips.

The blonde squealed incoherently.

The scribe couldn’t help the slight smile that toyed at the edges of his lips. Kaveh was, in all reality, quite lovely when he was letting go and giggling freely.

Truth be told, Al Haitham could listen to the melodious sound all night, but he didn’t want to ruin the fun and turn the sweet action into something torturous. So, as soon as Kaveh started to reach his limit…

“OHOHOKAHAHAY! IHIHIHI GIHIHIVEHE! PLEHEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIM AHAHALL DOHOHONEHE! STAHAHAP!”

The second he heard “stop”, Al Haitham did so. Upon first look at his roommate’s goofy grin and flushed face, the gray-haired male’s stoic facade dropped for a moment. Replacing the ever-present scowl was a pleasant smile of amusement.

“Well,” Kaveh blustered. “I’m glad someone had fun, because I-“

“Don’t you lie to me. You only asked me to stop one time.” Al Haitham shot his roommate a wink, and I return received the gift of the most adorable a look of pure embarrassment.

With a whine, the blonde flopped down onto the couch in their living room. “You suck.”

The scribe exhaled fondly and knelt next to the couch. “Oh don’t be such a baby, it’s okay to enjoy things that make you laugh.” He rested his hand on the architect’s back. “I for one think that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Kaveh went still as he slowly turned his head to look at his roommate. “Y-You don’t think it’s-“

“Not in the least.” Al Haitham didn’t even give the blonde a chance to finish his hidden self-deprecating sentence. “If it makes you laugh, and makes you forget your troubles, then I’ll be happy to oblige in your request any time you need a pick-me-up.”

Kaveh huffed as he hid his head in the couch once more. “Can you do it again?”

Al Haitham smiled as he brought his hands back in position over the architect’s sides.

‘Cute’ he thought. The silence of his mind was interrupted by the precious giggles of the man he most definitely, absolutely, positively, no-way no how, did NOT have a crush on.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 6 Prompt: Heat @rosekiller-microfic

March Daily Series - 995 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Barty shook his head clear and refocused on the mostly empty road ahead of him. Luckily, it wasn’t busy in the off-season. Not many were foolish enough to travel to the coast in the winter, especially in a car without heat.

The sun mocked him through a cloudless sky, bouncing absurdly cheerful light off of the hood and directly into his eyes. He fumbled for the sunglasses tucked into his visor and shoved them on his face. Relaxing a bit, he leaned back and grabbed his phone. Barty rolled the scratched-up silver case on its edge over and over on his thigh. When the screen woke up mid-spin, he glanced at it hopefully.

No notifications. Of course.

By the time he reached the signs for the Prince of Wales bridge, Barty was seriously considering a detour into the river. If he wasn’t already regretting his life choices, and there weren’t a massive green metal barrier, the decision would be so easy.

Best not to start trusting myself now.

Barty inhaled deeply as he stared at the cables rising to the outline of an enormous letter “h” that straddled M4’s six lanes. Bridges fucked with his head, especially long ones running over water like this. Movie scenes of bridges cracking open like a fresh, crisp baguette toyed with his mind.

Breathe. Just breathe.

The moment his front tires passed the shoreline to England’s soil, Barty deflated. He was one hour in and already drained physically, mentally, and emotionally. Any clarity this road trip brought him earlier was lost to him now. He just wanted to crash onto his crappy sofa and stay there. Not moving for a week sounded so bloody good, but he was expected at work tomorrow.

When the opening bars of Never Let You Go drifted through his speakers, Barty tensed again. The chorus of this one hit a little too close to home.

Suddenly, his screen lit up as his mobile buzzed against his denim-covered thigh. Evan’s face appeared on his screen and Barty jerked the wheel as he screeched to a halt on the shoulder and narrowly avoided scraping the barrier. He fumbled with his phone as his stomach lurched violently.

“Rosie?”

The other end was silent except for the steady tap tap tap of Evan’s rings against the phone he was holding. Barty knew that sound intimately, but not the tempo. Evan was agitated.

His heart beat doubled and his chest clenched in panic. This wasn’t good. He didn’t know how it could get worse, but it was about to and the dread was overwhelming.

Shite shite shite!

“Before you hang up…I’m sor-sorry I didn’t tell you about Regulus. When I realised that you were friends, I shou-should have.”

Barty’s ears thrummed with his own rapid heart beat as he strained to listen for a response. After another long silence, he released a ragged breath and added, “And I’m sorry for going after your sister yesterday. I was….that doesn’t matter. I’m sober now and I hate myself for acting like that.”

“That makes two of us.”

His heart plummeted to the floorboards. “Please don’t say that, Rosie. I swear—”

“Don’t call me that,” Evan said. His voice was flat and clipped.

“Oh, right.” A chill ran down Barty’s spine and he struggled to find the words he’d practised in case Evan actually answered one of his calls. “Evan, I—”

“Not that either.”

Barty closed his eyes and repressed the urge to beg for forgiveness. There was no hope of that in Evan’s tone. This was going to hurt, he could sense it. The hammer was already pulled back and the trigger was twitching.

“Okay. I understand.”

“Good, because we are nothing to each other,” Evan snapped cruelly. “I don’t want anything to do with you, Crouch, and if you come near my sister again—”

“I won’t!” Barty cried out, shaking with the effort to hold himself together. “Please, please don’t—”

The line went dead.

“No! No no no nonono!” He quickly tapped on Evan’s picture to call back. “Please pick up! Please, please, please.”

A robotic voice informed him that his call could not be completed as dialed. His hands trembled as he texted Evan, pleading with him. The text didn’t go through. Barty stared at his screen in disbelief.

“He-He’s…I can’t…oh fuck.”

His body crumpled against the steering wheel as a shudder rushed through him. He was numb from head to toe. The hole carved out of his chest deepened until it hit curled his vertebrae. No thoughts, no emotions.

Moving on instinct alone, Barty opened his car door, stumbled out of the road, and collapsed before he emptied his stomach. His limbs quivered beneath his weight until he flopped onto his back. He swiped at his mouth and groaned at the sharp burn that raced up his throat.

He rolled away from the open car door and forced himself to push upright. The endless expanse of the river where it joined the sea spread out before him. Barty stared unblinkingly at the waves as they lapped the shore, rhythmic and repetitive.

This is it. Rock-fucking-bottom.

A hollow laugh burst from his chest, but quickly died out. It hurt to laugh. Hell, it hurt to breathe!

He hauled himself to his feet, then stepped unsteadily toward the edge where the tall barrier ended. With slow, measured steps, he climbed the short rail and headed down the slope toward the shore. Barty studied the muddy, frigid water as his boots sank with every step into the soft soil. The height of the bridge created a terrifying vantage of the water, but from here it looked tame.

Water was cleansing, that was a common belief. A refreshing drink for a parched throat, moisture for dry skin, and the perfect conduit for soap. Standing here before a river wide enough to swallow an entire city whole was humbling.

I would only make short-lived splash.

With a short burst of adrenaline, Barty ran forward, threw his arm back, and flung his mobile into the river. It disappeared beneath the waves without a sound. No splash, no interruption.

Inconsequential.

Next Part>>>

[brucenorris007]

knocknocknocknock

Rouge groaned and sat up; going by the rapid tempo, she had a good guess on who was knocking even before she opened the door to the house.

Sure enough, Sonic stood on the other side of the threshold, one hand raised in greeting.

“Shadow,” Rouge called over her shoulder. “It’s for you.”

“Actually,” Sonic said. “I’m here to borrow Omega.”

Rouge blinked. Twice. Raised an eyebrow and called again.

“Omega, it’s for you!”

She could hear the bemused, off-kilter beat of silence. She looked back at Sonic.

“Since when do you make house calls for Omega?” She asked.

“First time for everything, right?” He said with a shrug. “We’re in kind of a hurry and I don’t wanna play Shad’s guessing game about whether or not he’ll sucker punch me before he’s willing to have a conversation.”

Rouge opened her mouth. Closed it. Considered the point.

“SHADOW HAS ENGAGED IN MORE ERRATIC, INCONSISTENT BEHAVIOR RECENTLY.” Omega commented, stomping up to stand beside her at the door.

Sonic smirked.

“At least we know what we’re getting with Omega.”

“Fair.”

“Okay,” Sonic said, turning on his heel. “Let’s go, Omega!”

“NEGATIVE.”

Sonic choked in a false start and nearly tripped over their front stoop. He looked back, bewildered.

“Huh?”

“EXPLAIN YOUR OBJECTIVE AND WHY MY PRESENCE IS REQUIRED.”

Sonic blinked.

“Right, yeah, okay,” he said. “We’re figuring out where Eggman is.”

The borderline silent whir from Omega’s chassis got louder by a fraction of a decibel.

“TO DESTROY HIM?”

“We’re trying to find him first,” Sonic said, smoothly avoiding saying one way or the other what would happen when they did find the doctor. He scratched his head, fingers parting his quills. “We can’t tell where he’s doing his evil thing from. Tails can explain it better, but whatever tech he’s using isn’t connected to the same network as the rest of his bases.”

Sonic raised both hands in a shrug.

“Something like that, I think.”

Rouge digested the information silently; depending on what the doc was up to, she might get called in.

“Anyway, that’s where you come in,” Sonic said, pointing at Omega. “We’re gonna pull a con on Eggman.”

“You came looking for Omega to pull a ruse?” Rouge asked skeptically.

“He works with you, doesn’t he?”

“AFFIRMATIVE.”

Rouge smirked and patted Omega’s arm cannon.

“It does mean a paint job,” Sonic said. “Temporary, I swear; you ‘capture’ me and bring me in to one of ol’ Buttnik’s bases. Doesn’t matter what he’s up to, he’ll pay attention to that.”

“AND THEN I EXTERMINATE HIS INFERIOR MODEL ROBOTS?”

Omega, as usual, posed the question more like a statement.

“Ahh,” Sonic hedged. “You’d have to hold off on that; just until he gives up where he is!”

“UNACCEPTABLE. IT IS OBJECTIVELY MORE EFFICIENT TO ELIMINATE INDIVIDUAL BASES UNTIL HE IS FORCED OUT OF HIDING FOR LACK OF RESOURCES.”

Sonic’s mouth twisted into a borderline grimace. He glanced at Rouge; she shook her head. She wasn’t in the mood to help mediate, especially not on her day off.

“That’ll take ages, though,” Sonic said. He paused a second; a sly grin stretched across his face. “Besides, think about it; how ticked off will Eggface be when he figures out he got tricked?”

“. . .”

Rouge recognized the hum of Omega’s CPU; he was considering it.

“Even better,” Sonic said, thumbing his nose. “How ticked he’ll be when we bust down his door and break all his toys?”

“EXTREMELY.”

“He’ll blow a fuse; so, you in?”

Omega’s engines revved in lieu of an answer and he blasted off from their porch. Sonic send Rouge a backward, two-finger salute before tearing off ahead of him.

She watched them go for a moment before closing the door. She backtracked to the living room and flopped backward across the sofa; gracefully and accurately landing with feet over the armrest and her shoulder against Shadow’s, eliciting a halfway resigned grunt.

“Omega should be in a good mood when he gets home.” She said idly.

“Hrm.”

Rouge shifted to grab a cushion and reposition her wings.

“You could’ve gone with them if you wanted.”

“I didn’t.” Came the slightly too snippy reply.

Rouge rolled her eyes and snatched the remote out of his hand.

“You have been sucker punching a lot lately.”

“Shut up.”

@generic-sonic-fan

[rookthorne]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐦, 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 | 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

Pairing ♤ Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Word Count ♤ 2.6k Warnings ♤ Swearing, pet names, forbidden relationship, secret relationship, extreme tension of the spicy kind, smut (they are chaos switches, dom/sub dynamics - dom Bucky, sub Bucky, dom Steve, brat Steve - oral, anal, praise kink, dirty talk dialled up to an 11) Rating ♤ E Events ♤ @stuckybingo Ｉ１ - Circus AU | Bingo Masterlist Author's Note ♤ Beta'd by the amazing and lucky to be alive after this @duckybarnes1917 - bless you, babe! my first ever Stucky smut and your help was invaluable, thank you so much 💗

They were a secret, hidden down alleys, amongst flaps of tents and silk ropes, ensnaring them both and binding them tighter and tighter–it was dangerous, it was trouble, but above all else, it was intoxicating.

It was a marvel watching Steve work – perform – on stage. That night was no different. The crowd was hollering and cheering when Steve spun lightning fast amongst the hanging silk, ropes, and hoop. The ringleader, their boss, hyped the full house like no other. 

Steve was the act of the night – the headliner, while Bucky stalked in the shadows that the curtains provided, throwing knife in hand and twirling across his knuckles absently as he watched. Working amongst the impalement act did wonders for his own fame. 

The beat of the music changed and Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You fucking punk,” he muttered, a smirk teasing his lips as the tempo increased, Steve’s speed and acrobatics following. He was a blur of colour, the mop of blonde hair gold in the spotlight when he hung upside down. 

A medley passed until the beat of the finale washed over the crowd, consuming them in a dome of excitement while Steve swung higher, higher, higher. 

“Cheer him on, folks!”

Bucky watched in awe at Steve’s motions and twists, the hoop swinging so close to the crowd they could have reached out and brushed against a legend. The beat crescendoed and Steve let go of the hoop with a flourish, flipping twice before landing on the ground with so much grace he didn’t even stumble.

The crowd lit up with a roar loud enough to be heard across the grounds while Steve beamed up at them before bowing. Once he stood to attention, he saluted the ringleader and skipped off, blond hair plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat, and it was all Bucky could do not to jump his bones the moment he passed the curtain he had hid in. 

“I can see you,” Steve called, striding towards the changing rooms. He threw a wink over his shoulder and guzzled down a bottle of water. 

Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes, stalking closer. “It’s not my damn fault I’m labelled the devil and I’ve been ordered to stay away.” 

The atmosphere changed on a dime, charged with tension that prickled at the back of their necks. 

The outfit stretching Steve’s chest came away to reveal a damp shirt – it was the catalyst to Bucky’s control, and the caution against getting caught flew out the window with it. Steve opened his mouth and spoke, “You know I can’t help mys-” But Bucky didn't hear him. 

Bucky lunged forward and kissed Steve, carnal and the need to consume lighting the fire in his veins. The surprised squeak that left Steve at the contact elicited a low growl from him and hands flew, moving and desperate to hold, to bring close. They panted for breath once Steve pulled back far enough to let their foreheads touch, and Bucky grinned – manic and predatory, like a wolf that had finally snatched its prey. 

“Who knew you would be so much trouble, Buck,” Steve mused, his voice raspy and dripping with barely restrained lust. “How entertaining.”

“Fuck you, punk,” Bucky hissed. “You know what it does to me, watching you out there with everyone’s eyes on you.”

Steve chuckled darkly and fisted a handful of Bucky’s hair, pulling sharply and making Bucky grunt. “Why don’t you show me just how much you hate it, hmm?”

The tension snapped and Bucky bared his teeth, grabbing Steve’s free wrist and pulling so Steve stumbled forward into his chest. “I’ll fucking show you.”

Fabric flew and their lips clashed in a show of tongue and teeth as Bucky stripped Steve of the last of his show uniform, leaving him in a seamless tank and set of tights. “Buck- Not here, fuck-” Steve spluttered. Footsteps suddenly sounded just outside the doorway and Bucky abruptly pulled back, glancing around with a snarl on his lips. 

“Let’s go back to the- Hey!” Steve yelped at the force of Bucky’s tug on his arm towards the opening of the tent. “Bucky, c’mon-”

“Move.” The grip Bucky had on Steve was unrelenting as he stalked towards the trailers with a dangerous glare plastered on his face – a perfect deterrent to any civilians that would get in his way. 

Steve was shifting in his grip, panting slightly. “Wait, slow-”

“Don’t you fucking tell me to slow down,” Bucky growled, yanking open the door to Steve’s trailer and almost pulling it off the hinges. Steve’s feet stumbled up the steps and Bucky shoved him towards the bed before slamming the door shut, the lock clicking over. 

Steve was looking up at Bucky with doe eyes, wide and glassy like he thought he’d be off the hook. 

“Get on your knees, sweetheart,” Bucky purred, moving his hand to hold the side of Steve’s neck. A low keen started in Steve’s throat, but Bucky clicked his tongue. “I won’t ask again. Get on your fucking knees.”

“No-”

Bucky’s hand pushed hard on Steve’s shoulder and he fell to his knees with a dull thud. While Steve gathered his bearings, Bucky yanked down the fly of his pants and pulled himself out, and on instinct, Steve’s mouth opened wide, tongue flat with the beginning of a trail of drool falling from the tip. 

“Such a pretty sight,” Bucky hummed and Steve squirmed, chasing the tip of Bucky’s dick like a dog to a bone. “You gonna take it, be the good boy I know you can be?”

It was endearing how fast and earnest Steve nodded, and Bucky finally allowed him to suckle at the tip. The feeling of Steve’s tongue laving at it forced a heavy breath from Bucky’s lungs, and he gripped the dresser by his side, knuckles turning white with the tension. 

“Fuck, Stevie,” Bucky groaned when Steve relaxed his jaw to swallow more of his dick. “That’s it, good boy.” Tears welled in Steve’s eyes and Bucky swiped his thumb over his high cheekbone, catching them before they fell. “Such a good boy for me, aren’t you, fuck-”

The sudden feeling of the back of Steve’s throat winded him, a harsh pant blowing the loose strands of hair that had fallen onto his face. “Jesus, Stevie!”

A low hum came from Steve’s throat and Bucky threw his head back, a guttural moan tearing free before he could stop it. 

Steve’s hands moved to grip Bucky’s hips and pushed him away, then pulled him back, picking up speed each pass. “You want me to-” Bucky tried, gasping when Steve hollowed his cheeks in response. “Oh, fucking hell, c’mere.”

The sight of Steve looking up at him through his lashes with drool catching on his chin almost drove Bucky feral, but instead, he placed his hands on Steve’s head, his palms resting gently over his hollowed cheeks. “Tap my thigh if you need me to stop,” Bucky murmured, and Steve blinked, nodded as best he could, and tilted his head back down to force his nose into Bucky’s pelvis. 

A choked off moan left Bucky, morphing into a low whine when Steve sucked hard. 

“Okay, baby,” Bucky whispered, testing the waters by pulling back slowly, and thrusting forward just as slow.

Steve was having none of it.

“Fuck!” Bucky shouted, reeling at the pace with which Steve set, taking matters into his own hands. “Steve, oh-”  

Reluctance now long gone, Bucky gripped the sides of Steve’s face and fucked it, just as hard, and just as fast as Steve had demanded. 

“Such a good boy, ah-” Bucky moaned and Steve grinned, moving a hand to grip Bucky’s hip and snaking the other towards his ass. “Where you goin’ with that, sweetheart?”

Steve changed course, pulling off Bucky's cock which hung twitching and red in his face. The dresser drawer near his thigh flew open and Steve reached in, pulling out a bottle of lube. A mischievous glint passed through his eyes and Bucky’s eyes darkened. “Come here.”

The demand made Steve’s inside turn to jelly and he took Bucky’s cock to the hilt again, moving quicker than before while forcing the bottle of lube open and gathering some on his fingers. 

Bucky’s breath hitched when Steve resumed his grip on his hip with one hand, forcing the other between his legs to toy at his entrance. “Steve-” A yelp filled the air and Bucky’s heat pulsed around Steve’s finger. “Fucking-”

Abandoning all pretence, Steve took over the rhythm and fucked Bucky’s cock in earnest, swallowing around the tip that breached his throat while his finger became fingers and Bucky became a moaning mess above him. “Oh, fuck, Stevie- Baby, ‘m gonna c-”

The pad of Steve’s index finger swiped over Bucky’s prostate and he howled, holding Steve’s face in a bruising grip while his dick twitched and shot down Steve’s throat – hot, messy, and oh so much. 

Bucky’s entire body was shuddering and he blinked down at Steve, panting heavily through the last of the twitches. “Fuck,” Bucky panted, letting go of Steve’s face.

“Easy, Buck,” Steve murmured, getting to his feet. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the white knuckle grip Bucky had on the counter. “Stay there.” Bucky laughed weakly as his chest heaved for breath, his knees shaking and struggling to keep him upright – it was a sight that made Steve’s inner demon purr with the thought of Bucky fucked out under him, moaning and whimpering for more. 

The glass of water was cool in Steve’s hand as he stepped back in front of Bucky, who accepted it gratefully, gulping it down and whipping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“So pretty like this, baby,” Steve cooed, and Bucky froze. A devilish smirk pulled at the corner of Steve’s come-slick lips and he watched transfixed as Bucky gulped, almost shying away from the hand that moved to cup the back of his neck. “So damn pretty.”

The back of Bucky’s neck was hot in Steve’s palm – a grip just as tight as Bucky exuded pulling him out here. 

Bucky only blinked blearily up at him, mouth twitching into a shy smile. “Wha-”

“My turn.”

Bucky cried out in shock when Steve pulled him close. Both of them stumbled as Steve threw Bucky onto the bed that creaked at the sudden weight. He landed with a gasp and struggled to his hands and knees, and Steve hummed lightly, running a hand up his lower back to his hair and gripping it. 

“You thought you were in charge, huh?” Steve’s voice was low – dangerous. “Oh, baby,” he continued, tugging on the strands of hair in his fist and Bucky whimpered. “I’m in charge.”

The bed creaked again as Steve forced Bucky to move up so he could shove his face into the pillows lining the head of his bed–their bed. “You gonna be sweet for me, Buck?”

An unintelligible mumble came from the pillows and Bucky shifted his knees, moving closer to the heat of Steve’s body. Steve gripped Bucky’s hair again and pulled, forcing a harsh breath from Bucky’s lungs that could have been mistaken for a moan. “I asked you a question, baby,” Steve growled, and Bucky did moan this time. “Answer me and you’ll get what you want.”

“Yeah, I-I’ll be sweet f’you, please,” Bucky breathed, keening when Steve tugged at his hardening dick none-too-gently. “Please.”

“Good boy,” Steve murmured. Bucky cried out and Steve forced him back down onto the bed. “Look at you, all ready for me, don’t have to do nothin’ to you and you’re already begging, sweetheart.”

The sound that left Bucky when Steve finally filled him would forever be seared in his mind, and he let out a breath of relief at finally being seated in Bucky’s heat. 

“Stevie, Steve- please, move,” Bucky begged, rocking slightly under Steve’s bulk – anything to entice him to just move.

“Aw, Buck, baby,” Steve cooed, thrusting slowly and shallowly enough to make Bucky sob. “You want me to move? What d’you say?” 

“I said please-”

Bucky yelped with the force of Steve’s thrust and he shuddered when Steve stilled, not moving an inch. “Don’t be bratty now,” Steve said lowly. “Do as you’re told.”

“Please, I need it-”

“Need what?”

Bucky huffed and whined, moving his hips to no avail. “I need you to fuck me,” he whispered, looking over his shoulder. “Fuck me like you own me, Stevie.”

Something broke in Steve’s brain, forcing all thoughts to fall from his ears and be replaced with only the feel of Bucky bearing down and all of his small noises and pleas. It was too much.

“I’ll fuck you, alright,” Steve rumbled and Bucky moaned, high and thin, going pliant in Steve’s grip. 

The pace was brutal and punishing, skin slapping combined with the grunts from Steve and the huffed moans that were punched from Bucky’s lungs with each thrust. “Ah- fuck, Stevie, oh-”

“That’s it, baby,” Steve cooed, pulling Bucky’s hair so he was forced up and pulled tight against his chest. The new angle made Bucky cry out and his head fell back against Steve’s shoulder where he turned to suck just under Steve’s ear. “So good for me,” Steve purred, not missing the way Bucky’s cock twitched at the praise. “You like being a good boy for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Bucky nodded fervently, moving his hand to grab the back of Steve’s neck while the other moved to hold Steve’s hand in a death grip, and Steve moved to lace his fingers with Bucky’s.

“Fuck!” Bucky moaned suddenly, and Steve grinned, turning his face into Bucky’s neck to mouth at the side of his neck. “Don’t stop- right there, oh, fuck!”

Sensing an opportunity, Steve pulled away from Bucky’s neck to look into his face, taking in the hooded eyes and the way Bucky was biting his lip, turning it white with the pressure. His eyes were blown black and he looked like he was in heaven – blissed out beyond belief, and Steve was only going to push him further. 

“Cock drunk for me, aren’t you, baby?” Steve whispered, finishing the words with a grunt against the sudden tightness. “You feel so fuckin’ good, fuck-” His hips stuttered once and he groaned, watching the way Bucky’s eyes started to cross slightly. “You gonna come for me, Buck?”

Bucky whined. “Yeah, ple- Oh!”

Steve snarled and forced Bucky back down on the bed, falling on top of him with a grunt. “You’re gonna come for me, baby.” The grip Steve had around Bucky’s middle was bruising and it made Bucky keen, forcing his legs out to tilt his ass up. “That’s it, that’s it,” Steve praised, cooing while Bucky sobbed with the force of his thrusts. 

“Steve!” Bucky yelled as Steve shifted just slightly, tilting his hips down. “Oh, fuck- God, ah! Ah!” 

“Go on, let go,” Steve moaned, his hips pistoning so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if they blurred. “I’ve got’chu.”

Time froze. Bucky stopped breathing and his whole body pulled taut under Steve, then he screamed; tears started to fall freely down his face and nose to collect on the pillow under his face. 

“Oh, you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” Steve moaned. His hips started to lose their rhythm and he faltered, struggling to stem the flood of his own orgasm. 

“Wan’ it, Stevie,” Bucky slurred, somehow managing to tilt his hips up to meet Steve’s punishing thrusts. “Come in me, know you want to.”

Bucky’s words were the catalyst and Steve shouted into Bucky’s shoulder – everything all too much and not enough at once. The quiet moans and whimpers leaving Bucky’s lips while Steve twitched were enough for Steve to want to keep going, desperate for more.

“Jesus, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, panting slightly and licking his lips. “I never thought you had that in you, what the hell happened and where the fuck did that come from?”

Steve chuckled and pulled Bucky with him to lay on their sides. “You told me to fuck you ‘like I owned you’, Buck.”

“You did,” Bucky sighed, shuffling to get closer and press his back flush against Steve’s chest. “But next time, it’s my turn, punk.”

“Whatever you say,” Steve laughed. He leant in close to Bucky’s ear and whispered, “Jerk.”

↠  𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ↞

[ariessmaee]

More than a pretty face.

Thank you for all the votes on my first post! Here is chapter one! Hope you enjoy :)

P.S: Vox has a human face in this fanfiction!

—————————————————————————————

Chapter 1

The music bellowed through the building, echoing off the walls and ringing through your ears. Day after day, the same tempo, the same bass and the same boring old faces. Although you complained, you enjoyed this job in a weird way, the attention, the feeling, the adrenaline. It was strangely pleasant. Walking around picking up glasses, occasionally dancing on the stage, it really made you feel somewhat alive again.

This job has it’s pros and cons. You had been in this profession since you practically landed down in hell. It had been 5 years working as a regular stripper before a new opportunity arose for you. There was no way you was going to deny. You physically couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The pay Valentino had offered to feature you in his private clubs was a shock to your system, a feeling of pure euphoria until the truth of his business hit you. You was in too deep now, addicted to the money, the popularity.

You wiped the beer stained table clean and carefully balanced the empty beer glasses on your round tin tray. You sighed, throwing your cloth over your shoulder, partly covering the front of your body, earning a few growls of dissatisfaction as you walked past the loathsome sinners. You rolled your eyes, scanning your area and locking eyes with an all so familiar face.

Valentino.

When the years rolled by with you two, and Vals trust in you increased, another offer was proposed. One you should have thought deeply about, but you needed that excitement pulsing through your veins once more. Killing people Val assigned you to kill was not something you thought you would be doing at the age of 23, and you enjoyed every bit of it. 9 year old you thought you would be working in the police force, but here you are, working for a company that does nothing but ignore the law. In hell...

How ironic.

Your new job had all stemmed from an afternoon where Valentino had proposed and idea for you to do some of his dirty work. He had called you to his chambers, Vox present in the room. You had figured that more often than not, these ideas arose whenever he was drunk or because you owed him a favour of some sort. It was all a game of a favour for a favour to you both.

It wasn’t like you had been thrown into the deep end with your side job, no no. You had started with smaller, easier jobs to sort of warm up before Val had decided to get you in on the big clients that paid big money. The memories of your very first client caused a lighthearted chuckle to escape your lips.

~~~

“Y/N baby, so glad to see you” he purred, accent thick.

“I swear to god if this is about that one customer last night i’m going to flip my shit” you weren’t scared to speak your mind to him no more.

“No, actually. I have an idea” He chuckled, pouring you a well deserved drink, handing it to you. You wasted no time in necking it.

“Me and you both know it’s bad when you of all people get an idea” you replied smoothly, the words rolling out from your lips.

“Here, have another drink” he commanded more than suggested. Vodka. Straight vodka. After the day you had, you needed it. That’s exactly what you did, shot it and tossed the glass to the side. You wasn’t in the mood.

“Get it over with”

“I’ve actually had this idea for quite some time now, darling” he replied, swirling his drink around in his glass, filling another in his extra arms for you.

“Well then, get on with it” you grabbed the glass, repeating the motion.

“You remember that favour I did for you, right?”

You paused for a moment. This wasn’t good.

“I do”

“Well, I recall you told me you’d do anything I want as a thanks” You gulped, a sudden nervousness creeping up your spine. “Well, I know what I want you to do”

~~~

Part of you somewhat regretted saying those words to him, for now you were roped too deep into this, forever indebted to him. That fucking piece of paper he flaunted to you every chance he could. But the other part of you craved for the adrenaline you got from every kill. The adrenaline you wanted. It really was addictive, and you couldn’t stop, just like old habits from when you was alive.

You eventually made your way over to Val, strutting confidently over to the booth he was seated at, placing the cloth and tray on a different table. He always tended to sit in these seats considering how private they were. They were positioned in the corner of the establishment and were well hidden in the shadows with the black leather seats. Once you got closer to the table you noticed Valentino wasn’t seated alone. Next to him sat Vox, a close friend of Vals. You wondered why he was here.

You never really met Vox up until now, he was always the background character in your life. Yeah sometimes he was in the room when you and Val were discussing business but you always drowned out his presence quite easily. You didn’t really want to involve yourself with someone like him, you had heard he was worse than Val.

He wore a deep blue shirt followed by a black waistcoat. His hair was combed back, blue highlights running through his dark black locks like electrical currents. His eyes were a striking red followed by neon cyan pupils. You had noticed the scar slashed down one of his eyes also. It was an odd combination of colours but nonetheless he was an attractive demon from the look of it, no matter how much you hated to admit it.

You walked up to the table to which Val patted the seat beside him. You took the hint and shuffled your way across the leather seat, sitting in the exact spot Val had patted which so happened to be directly next to him. You pulled up your rabbit suit you were wearing and allowed it to hug tighter to your body. The movement hadn’t gone unnoticed, for you saw both mens eyes glance down to your chest.

Placing your hands on the table, you looked over at Val, leaning on his side slightly.

“I’m guessing I was called over here for a reason Val” You spoke, words like silk. You were always his favourite. You could get away with anything, he treated you like shit yes, but he’d burn hell down for you.

“Indeed you was”

“Well then, this story isn’t going to tell itself, what is it you want this time?” It had been six months from your last mission assigned by Val. One of his strippers had gotten them self a new contract, overriding Vals. I was to kill both of them. You thought maybe you was free from the shackles that bound you to him with these favours, you guessed not now. There was nothing you could do about it.

“Actually bunny its not what he wants, it’s what I want”

Vox spoke in a voice that took you by surprise. It was rough yet enticing. It had been the first time you had heard him speak, and you allowed it to wrap itself around your mind, impacting you more than you would have liked. Although his voice was young, the tone held age. It was a voice that could tell a thousand stories with his experiences down here. You imagined the impact of how long he was actually in hell and what he had done that changed him. How it had given him a harsher voice to compensate for his unnerving and threatening personality.

Those words were enough to crush your excitement and rebuild it into curiosity. You had guessed Vox was here to accompany Val, not because he actually needed you. How odd...

“I don’t remember being indebted to you? Who says i’ll help you?”

His eyes pierced in yours, and Val gripped your thigh hard, cutting into the skin.

“Now now, you may not be indebted to him, but you are to me. Whatever I say, you shall listen. Understood?”

Your eye twitched, not daring to look at him.

“Yes, Valentino.”

Vals attention turned from you over to Vox, and so did yours. What could he possibly want from you?

You leant off Val as your interest further shifted from Val to Vox in a matter of seconds.

“Vox has gotten himself into a little issue~” Val spoke in a teasing tone, clearly in a way to dig at his close friend.

“What kind of issue are we talking about?”

“Deal making”

——————————————————————————————

Welcome to chapter 1! I really hope you enjoyed this. I’m pretty proud of this book and can’t wait to share it with everyone! It’s taken a lot to get the confidence to post this, but here we are :)

Feedback is always welcome! Wether it’s pros or cons, criticism is very much appreciated!

Until next time Sinners.

~Aries

Chapter 2 ⬇️

[ladylooch]

Loving & Leaving- Part 2

Visit the series page here.

A/N: We are going to get CHAOTIC with this one. So buckle up. 😈

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, Swearing, angsty

Word Count: 4k

The Swiss Hockey Federation awards are in the late summer. And every year, Nico begs me at the last minute to come with him. With his good looks and professional hockey career, you would think he would be able to find a true date to go with. But every year, it’s me on his arm. We skip the red carpet, as per usual, and slide into the sleek, modern event space relatively undetected. The room is stunning, decked out in the reds and whites of our national colors. The Swiss flag flies proudly around the room while various projectors showcase the latest and greatest hockey talent Switzerland has to offer.

As an event planner myself, I am quite impressed. This is an detailed, high-end event with waiters trolling the floor carrying small bites and free flutes of champagne. The full, open bar has anything you could want including expensive liquors from all over the world. The bright chandeliers twinkle in the low lighting, complimenting the live jazz music that fills the room. An air of sophistication wafts through and loud laughter rings in my ears as Nico hands me a glass of champagne.

“Thank you.” I say, bringing it to my lips as I scan the room again.

“Expecting someone?” Nico asks, watching my face.

“No.” I lie. “Admiring the details.” 

“I’m going to go walk the room. You good?”

“Yeah. Take your time.” I tell him.

Anticipation buzzes in my blood, eye sweeping, looking for a certain Devil who isn’t my brother. I haven’t seen Timo since March. He’s reached out but I’ve put him off, absorbed in work and my friend group. I know he returned to Switzerland weeks ago, but he’s been in and out of the country with his family, spending precious moments with them that he doesn’t get during the season. But that doesn’t mean he’s been far from my thoughts. 

I don’t see Timo, but I know he will be here. Every year for the past three years, Timo has been here. I’ve been here. The night always ends the same: frantic lips, desperate hands, and silent screams of pleasure in a nearby closet.

The one just to the left of the women’s bathroom looks like the winner this year. 

The moment he arrives, my body knows. My brown eyes wander to him, drinking him in like a parched camel. He’s dressed in a Navy suit and works on buttoning his jacket again after the red carpet. He has dark, sexy stubble lining his jaw and upper lip. I want to know what that feels like between my thighs. I push out a controlled breath, feeling my core tremble as he rubs a hand along his cheek, then inspects the room. I watch him find my brother. He sees Nico alone and furrows his brow, running his tongue along the inside of his mouth. He heads right to him, extending a hand and shaking it with his easy smile. He looks good tonight. Everything about him pulls me in. I’m yearning to feel his skin, tanned from his trip to Italy, beneath my finger prints.

Nico and Timo talk for a few minutes while I watch. Timo lets out a loud laugh, head tilting back towards the ceiling. It flows through the air to me, lodging in my chest, soothing some of the missing him. Nico gestures to his left, then turns, looking right at me. I freeze as Timo’s gaze finds me. Excitement fills his face. He gives me a smile followed by a brief, friendly wave that has butterflies growing in my abdomen. When Nico turns away, Timo tosses me a wink. It’s brief. Anyone else would have missed it, but it’s been the agreement I’ve been waiting for.

Tonight, we’ll play another round of desperate roulette. Winner picks the tempo.

As the night drags on, I visit with various players, running around with my brother until I bore of the same conversation over and over again. Yes- Jersey is great. Yes, the team is getting better. Yes, its so funny how it’s become Switzerland of the West. Ha, ha, ha. Bleh. I don’t know how Nico does it. But, he’s always been sweet, charming, and attentive. It’s what makes him a great captain.

The one person we don’t go see is Timo. It’s all part of our game. When Nico and I get close, he moves along to the other side of the room. There, his gaze drags along my skin, spreading wildfire through me and an ache that I’m getting desperate for him to cure.

I’m on my third glass of champagne when I perch myself perfectly in Timo’s view. Lust fills my cheeks and lips as he strokes the glass of his drink, rubbing at the condensation while chatting with Kevin Fiala. If I close my eyes, I can imagine that same thumb rubbing against my throbbing clit. My teeth tease my lip wondering how much longer it’s going to take for him to make his move. Nico is drawing closer and closer to me again. The night is seemingly winding down after speeches and awards. I worry our time is running out.

Kevin disappears with his wife from the bar, but Timo remains. He glances over his shoulder in my direction, a small smirk tilting his lips at seeing me staring at him.

Here we go.

He pushes up, turning my way when a petite blonde with bursting cleavage intercepts him. My eyes narrow slightly. She’s ruining my night. I look towards my bother who is in conversation just to the left of me now. Shit. I contemplate how to get him further away while watching Timo from across the room. The blonde is closer now, absorbed, watching his mouth. Her fingers brush the jacket of his suit. I suddenly feel hot, but not in a good way.

It’s a different twist in my core now. Shades of green and ugly- about to rear into something I haven’t felt this intensely before.

The woman tosses her hair like she’s in a shampoo commercial, giggling at him. I jut my jaw out in irritation. She is so fake. And plastic. I bet she’s stuffed with fillers to hide from her insecurities. So unattractive. Yet… he’s looking at her like he’s interested? Is this what he picks when I’m not around? Yuck.

She calls out to the bartender who tosses her a white napkin on the bar top. She takes out her lipstick from her purse, red and deep just how I know he likes it. It’s almost the exact shade I picked tonight, just for him. She sketches what must be her number onto the napkin. Then, she places it in his hand, letting her fingers linger, taking stock of his curiosity. I stiffen, watching as she places her red lips against his cheek, then slide to his ear to whisper parting words.

My cheeks sting like he slapped me when he stuffs the napkin into his pocket. He knows I’m here, watching, and he did that? He could have tossed it on the bar. He could have let it accidentally drift to the floor from his hand. He could have not taken it at all. He should have don’t that. Instead, he’s saving it for later. My fingers almost smash the flute in my hand when I see his eyes soaking in her ass as she walks away.

And in that moment, I am decidedly done with this night.

“Can we go?” I interrupt my brother’s conversation next to me. “My feet hurt.” I point down to the black Jimmy Choos he bought for me last Christmas.

“I told you not to wear those.” He rolls his eyes. Truthfully, he doesn’t seem too disappointed at the prospect of leaving.

“You’re right as per usual.” I shrug, pacifying him so we will leave.

“I’m going to go say goodbye to Josi. I didn’t get to him earlier.” Nico hands me the valet ticket. “Have them grab the car.”

I stalk from the room before Timo can get to me. If he’s coming, I don’t know. I stopped looking when his eyeballs were glued to a sequined ass that wasn’t mine.

I’m standing at the valet podium when the man in question extends his vehicle ticket to the remaining valet. The employee walks off towards the parking lot, leaving us alone.

“Hi.” His voice is warm rolling over the bare skin of my shoulders to blanket me. One word and he makes me want to bury my face in the side of his neck.

“Hi.”

“Do I get to see you tonight?” He asks

Some fucking audacity. My eyes squint as I stare forward.

“No. But I’m sure the girl who’s number is on that napkin in your pocket is available.”

“Oooo.” He chuckles. “Careful, Em, you sound a little jealous.” I turn my icy stare on him. No words pass between us because we both know I am. “Ask nicely and I’ll come over.”

“I’m not begging for shit.” I snap back. He observes my anger, softening with his approach.

“You really don’t have to. I’m more than willing. You look so beautiful tonight.” He reaches his hand out to slide along the small of my back. His touch caresses like it belongs there. I close my eyes, jaw tightening as I resist the pull I feel to give in. “All I wanted was to be across the room with you. Be that glass you held all night.”

“Fooled me.” I snip. Damn him and his compliments.

“We were just talking.” Timo says. I turn to face him, demeanor still cold. “I’m out here with you, no?” My eyes drag along his suit jacket, stopping at the button holding it together. “I’m trying to end the night tasting the sweetest parts of you.” He reaches up, fingering the diamond stud in my ear that was a gift from him.

“I’m really not in the mood.” My teeth are tight from the tension. Timo’s fingers pause on my lobe until he slowly drops his hand back to his side.

“Why are you mad at me when I’m the one who hasn’t heard from you in months? I texted you earlier this week asking if you were going to be here and you ignored me.” His thick eyebrows pull together in annoyance. “I didn’t even know you were here until your brother told me.”

“It’s not your business where I am in the world.”

“It’s not?”

“No, you’re not my boyfriend.”

“Not by my choice.” My nostrils flare at his pointed tone.

“If I need to get crystal clear with you, I will. We’re never going to be together.”

“Yeah, because you’re fucking scared.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes at me.

“No. I’m not giving up my entire life for you so that you can have all your dreams come true while I’m just your trophy wife. Staying silent and pretty is not the life for me.” I whirl my hands about. “Plus, your behavior tonight just shows how incapable you are of loving me the way I deserve. You want options and I’m not going to share you.” Even to my own ears, I sound scared and unsure of what I’m saying. Like its a bunch of rapid fire excuses to deflect from how badly I want him right now.

“Behavior? I didn’t do anything wrong.” He spits out. “You just told me I’m not your boyfriend, so why does it matter who’s number I take?” He holds his hands out to the sides exasperated. “And I never asked you to give anything up for me. You’re making this all or nothing because you’re too damn chicken to try. I told you in Jersey that I want this. You were the one who ghosted me for months.” His chest is rising and falling rapidly. “That fucking hurts, Em.”

Tears fill my eyes as I dig my teeth into my bottom lip. I peel my gaze away from him, trying to regain my composure. Footsteps fall heavily behind us belonging to my brother.

“You’re leaving too?” Nico asks Timo as he comes between us. Nico snuck up on us, but a quick glance at his lax posture makes me believe he has no idea about us. 

“Uh..” Timo clears his throat, stepping back, balling his hands into fists in frustration. “Yeah, early training tomorrow.”

“Bummer. Was going to say you should come over for a drink.” I hold my breath in anticipation of Timo’s answer.

“Nah, I shouldn’t.” He says as the valet comes forward with Nico’s car. Disappointment rattles in my stomach. Even as I want the distance, telling myself I don’t need this, I crave him.

“Next time.” Nico extends his hand for Timo to shake. I begin to walk forward without acknowledging Timo.

“It was great seeing you, Emma.” I toss a look at him over my shoulder. I can see the hurt in his blue eyes. I know I should say something to keep the act up, but I can’t. Instead, I slide into the passenger seat without another word.

Nico allows the silence for a few minutes on our drive home.

“You seem upset.”

“I’m just tired.” I toss a small, appeasing smile to him. His eyes don’t leave the road, but he sighs like he doesn’t believe me.

- - -

I’m outside.

Timo’s text comes through just as I settle against my pillows to sleep. I’m utterly exhausted after such a whirlwind night. I decide to ignore him, tossing my phone onto the other pillow and turning the lamp off. Light from my screen fills my room a minute later.

Come out here or I’m coming in.

Well. Can’t have that.

I toss my covers off begrudgingly, moving as quietly as I can down to the front door. I carefully tip toe out of the house, looking down the driveway to where Timo’s car purrs in the street, somewhat hidden by the trees and bushes. As I walk further down, I can see Timo outside the car, leaning against the driver’s side tire.

“Get in the car, Em.” He says as I approach. He takes in my matching pajama set of red shorts and an old, navy t-shirt.

“No.”

“Yes.” His jaw visibly tightens at my defiance. 

“Or what?”

My body shakes from the chill of the mountain air. I underestimated how cool it was without the summer sun.

“Or, I’m going to drag you back inside and fuck you so hard we wake up your brother.” Whoa, this is new.

“Shh.” I hiss, stepping forward. I glare at him as I walk around the car and put myself into the back seat. He gives me a tired look. “You didn’t say where to sit.”

“You’re being such a brat.” He rubs angrily at his forehead, mumbling under his breath as he slams his door shut. He begins to drive, weaving with the road towards a hidden park down the street from home. He tosses the car in park, then comes into the back seat with me. I stare straight ahead. “You don’t get to act like this.”

“I’m not acting like anything.”

“You’re playing games with me. You’re all jealous because I took some girl’s number, then telling me we’re never going to be together? Which one is it? It doesn’t get to be both.”

“Fine. Fuck whoever you want then.” I snap. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t?” He snarls, grabbing my face with his hand. “It would be fine if I was balls deep in someone else tonight?” I wince from his words and he softens his grip instantly. “I’m sorry. I’m.. so sorry. I need you to… stop doing this to me. You’re driving me crazy, baby.” My eyes close when he murmurs the pet name. I get weak when he calls me that. “Acting like you don’t care and then getting all hot and jealous. Throwing tantrums and glaring at me before your eyes go dark, silently begging me to take you right in front of your brother.” He strokes his thumb along my cheek. I wrap my hand around his neck.

“Fuck me.” I tell him this time. “Right here. Please.” The rapid change between us is fitting and he takes it in stride.

“Thought you weren’t going to beg.” He reminds me, placing kisses along my throat, working down towards my chest. 

“I don’t care. I just need you.” I confess as his fingers slide up my t-shirt, skirting along the soft skin of my abdomen. “So bad.” I whimper as he sucks against my collar bone. 

“I don’t have anything.” He tells me, kissing sloppily over towards my ear. He pulls me into his lap after his confession. I contemplate, knowing we both know I’m on the pill. It’s a risk- I know it is. I hesitate, pulling back to look at his face. He pauses his movements, getting soft and serious as he holds my neck. “I’m clean. I’d never do anything that would hurt you.”

I believe him. Because he looks at me like he’s in love with me and it matches the yearning in my chest for him too. He could be anywhere else right now. Instead, he chose me.

“I trust you.” I whisper. “I’m good.”

“No one since me?” He asks the thing we always ask even though it hurts. I shake my head no. “Me either.” I smile against his lips on mine.

The feeling of our bare skins connecting has electric groans coming from our lips. 

“You feel so good. So fucking wet.” He moans, putting his forehead between my breasts. “I’m not going to last. Can’t.” He moans again, louder this time as I rock on him.

“Good.” I whine as he strokes my clit. He watches my face as I bounce on him, thick eyebrows pulling down in pleasure as I ride. I’m not surprised at how quickly the tension begins to leak from us.

“Baby, where should I cum?” He groans after what feels like seconds.

“Right where you are.” I plea, working my hips into him faster. I grind harder against his hand, moaning loudly when his lips work my nipple over with the right strokes. “T-T- Ah.” I sob as I come, clenching him tightly in hard pulses until he shoots ribbons inside of me. The feeling of him in my heat, leaking, has my heart constricting in my chest. It’s so intimate it aches.

“Mmm.” He moans against my breast. His hot breath dances against my wet nipple, making me tremble more in his arms. I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging the strands so his head falls back into my palm. I place my mouth, wet and hungry, over his, sucking his tongue into mine. I rotate my hips, feeling him ooze more into me. “You are… incredible.” He whispers when we pull apart to gasp in air.

Our soft smooches fill the car, coming down gradually from our hasty high, savoring the taste and feel of each other. 

“You deserve better than this.” He eventually speaks against my shoulder. “You should be in my bed, 800 thread count sheets hugging your beautiful curves. Or a luxury apartment building where you can look at New York City while I fuck you from behind. Not this.” He gestures to the back seat of his car, where our heads are awkwardly avoiding the roof. I turn to bury my nose into his shoulder again.

“I can’t leave my life here.” I whisper against his hot skin. 

“What is here that I can’t give you? Events are everywhere.”

“I have a client base that can’t be recreated anywhere.”

“I have connections. So does your brother. We can build you something new in America. Maybe even better?” Irritation pops my bubble. Why is he pressing this again?

“You can’t just create something new that fits with what you want and think that’s payment for leaving my life behind. My answer is still the same.” I say, pushing off of him. His softening dick flops out of me quickly. I grimace at the feeling of his cum sliding out.

“Why are you arguing against everything I’m trying to do to make this work?” He asks me, holding his hands out to the side in question.

I can’t really put words together to answer him. It’s just a dreaded feeling in my soul of following someone else, somewhere else, and getting lost in their world. Never mind that I’m in love with him. I feel my body jolt at the new, inner thought and pull myself farther away from him. It’s terrifying to love someone like him. Someone that proved tonight he could have his pick of anyone else. The temptation is so much. I know enough from Nico to not want to sign up for this.

“Don’t do this.” He mutters. “Just.. sit here for a second. I want to talk.”

My afterglow has been shattered by his questions. I stretch my neck to the side, wincing at the way it tightens back up immediately under the weight of my head. He reaches out to kneed at my tense muscles, thumbs putting firm pressure where it’s needed most.

“We already talked about this earlier tonight. Why can’t you just let this be enough?” I gesture between our bodies.

“I thought you were only saying that because you were mad…” He questions.

“No. I meant it.”

“You’re not even willing to try?”

“It seems pointless.” I shrug. Unwillingly, my mind cuts out pictures of that life. City dates in New York, wearing his last name on a WAG jacket, and waking up next to him in the morning, not needing to run away. Maybe a ring.. eventually a baby or two. There’s that ache in my chest again.

Timo is silent next to me. Carefully, fingers dragging along every inch of me, he begins to pull away. First his fingers fall from around my neck. Then, he slowly moves his other hand from my bare thigh. He works himself back into his pants as I wiggle my shorts into place. The only noise between us is his belt hooking back into place.

Until…

“Emma, I can’t.” He pauses. “I can’t do this anymore.” It’s quiet and questioning, like he doesn’t want to say or mean it.

“Okay.” I pick at my thumb nail. I’ve heard this before. It never lasts.

“No, I’m serious. I love you.” The blood slows in my veins. He’s never said those words to me before and I wish it wasn’t this way. “And I can’t have only parts of you anymore. It’s not enough.” Something about his voice makes my heart drop into my stomach. Panic forces my blood to begin racing through my veins again.

He pops the back door open. Hair stands up straight on the back of my neck, jolting when the door shuts again. My body trembles as he gets into the driver’s seat. The car roars to life. I adjust my shirt back into place and tuck my hair behind my ears as he drives. I purse my lips together, looking at him in the rearview mirror. He won’t return my gaze but his flickering jaw tells me he knows I’m looking.

The house comes into view. Timo throws the car in park at the end of the driveway. The interior of the car smells like sex. I can feel my raw folds coated with his sticky seed, still remembering his thrusts. Tears poke my eyes when he refuses to meet my gaze. I have no choice but to get out of the car. Isn’t this what I want anyway? I can’t ignore the way my heart cracks when I pop the door to step out.

I turn back, expecting him to get out of the car with me. To say something else. He doesn’t. And he doesn’t wait for me to get to the house.

Instead, he drives off into the night, red tail lights blazing until they disappear into darkness.

I won’t see him again until November, under much different circumstances.

[sidekickjoey]

So, I’m on a modern rockstar!Eddie and fan!Steve AU kick lately.

You know how, for newer bands or bands that are just hitting big fame, lead singers tend to light up or get super emotional whenever they catch fans singing along or really resonating with their music for the first time? 

Imagine Eddie, fresh off of Corroded Coffin’s first hit single. It’s some big roaring rock ballad that’s not entirely like their usual stuff, a little less metal than a lot of their tastes, but just the perfect bridge between the genres to get people interested in them. It suits Eddie’s voice well too, and when he sang it before it got big, everyone in the crowd looked up at him like he was a god. An angel in ripped clothes with a wicked smile and a killer set of pipes. Eddie loved it. He secretly loves hearing that it is the one that’s making it big. 

Steve is not a fan of metal, per se, but he loves a good deep rock song. He likes the way the drums boom in his bones and how the often grit-filled voices of 80s rockstars contrast with the smooth stylings of the electric guitars. When he first hears Corroded Coffin’s newest single, he’s not trying to seek out a new song to add to his list, but he is entranced all the same. The lead singer’s vocals just do something to him. The melody is intoxicating. He puts it on repeat for weeks. Robin hates him and tells him to get a hobby after the third.

Naturally, they end up together at Corroded Coffin’s Chicago show a few weeks later. It’s a bit of a hike from Hawkins, but Steve would not shut up about going, and Robin is clinging desperately to the shred of hope that this may be what finally rids Steve of his ear worm, so they make it work. They stumble through each other’s idiosyncrasies (”Steve, for the thousandth time, your hair is FINE” “Robs, I swear to God if you make me stop this car one more time for a bathroom break, you’re walking the rest of the way”) and end up three rows back from the front. It’s not a bad view. Steve likes how he’s directly in front of the mic. He likes it even more after noticing how often he makes eye contact with the opener, both meaningfully and not. 

Nothing prepares him, however, for when they step off the stage and the lights dim. The stage rumbles. The fans scream. A heavy drum beat begins feeling more like a pounding heartbeat, and as it ascends into a faster tempo, they are greeted with the whine of an electric guitar and the one man they’re all there to see. 

Eddie.

Eddie, with heavy eyeliner smeared down his cheeks, impressively fluffed up hair, and a piercing in his ear that glimmers in the bright stage light. Eddie, who is donning a black vest and nothing more up top and a pair of short ripped shorts and fishnets down below. Eddie, whose large boots are about eye level with Steve’s face and welcome to stomp on him at any time he pleases, thank you very much. 

Steve is frozen the moment he comes into the light. 

He struggles to breathe as Eddie cracks a smile.

Then, Corroded Coffin dives right into their setlist. It’s heavy, like anyone who has listened to more than one song of theirs can tell, but it’s not unpleasant. Robin seems to love the more fast-paced songs and hits it off with a girl beside them dressed not unlike Eddie who seems to like them, too. Steve finds himself listening less to them and more often watching Eddie - the man with enough stage presence to render a crowd under his command. 

It’s exhilarating. And then, it all comes to a head when the first chords of their hit song play.

The world around Steve melts away the second he hears them. Robin mentions something to him about the song, tugging on his sleeve, but it goes unnoticed because this is it. This is the moment Steve drove however long to see. This is the song that’s taken over his entire life for the past month and a half, and Eddie is right there. Eddie’s going to sing it to him. 

Eddie does sing it to him. He sings it right to him.

Steve doesn’t know that it’s because he’s the only one in Eddie’s line of sight that knows all the lyrics. He doesn’t know that it’s because his joy is just radiating off of him like the sun cutting through a chilly winter’s day. He doesn’t know that Eddie was feeling nervous about debuting this song to such a big crowd in such a big city, and Steve’s enthusiasm melted all those nerves away the second recognition crossed his eye. 

He just knows that Eddie’s singing to him, and that it’s everything and more than he could ask for. 

Getting Eddie’s pick tossed to him at the end of the night is a delightful cherry on top, though. Steve clutches it close to his chest as he and Robin leave the venue. He places it on his nightstand once they’re back in Hawkins. 

And, because he’s insatiable and still on the high of the concert (to Robin’s dramatized dismay), he takes a picture of it to post to social media, documenting the night before he goes to bed. 

“Guess I’m a metalhead now. Thanks for the show @CorrodedCoffin x”

Steve watches Robin and a few of his other friends from Hawkins like it before he finally drifts off, ears slightly ringing but mind on Cloud 9. When he wakes, he comes to realize that a whole lot more than just Robin and the gang dropped likes of their own overnight. In fact, a whole lot more people did - including none other than famous lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin himself, Eddie Munson. 

...who also left a comment that everyone and their mother was liking.

“Thanks for the show yourself, pretty boy. Give that pick a good home for me, yeah?”

Steve gawks. Steve laughs. Steve likes it and immediately makes a beeline for Robin’s home, because if he doesn’t talk about this with someone else asap, he may just combust into a pile of goo on the floor.

By the time he gets there, he might as well already be a puddle on the floor, because in the time it took for him to hop in his car and drive the ten minutes to her house, Eddie not only saw the like but hopped in his DMs - not to creep on him or anything, but to be a damn gentleman apologizing for blowing up his phone (”I’m still not used to this whole ‘everyone following me’ thing”) and making sure he got home from the concert okay, because he’s made the trip from Hawkins before to visit family and knows it’s a decent ride.  

It’s everything. It’s all too much. 

It’s every fan’s dream, and Steve cannot believe he’s living it. 

[emmedoesntdomath]

for your consideration:

what if davey and katherine were friends before livesies events? like i feel like they would get along well, maybe they went to school together when they were younger, sort of grew apart, and then became friends again via the stike?

and what if when jack and kath got together it made davey really jealous bc like ‘thats my friend and thats my crush’ blah blah blah

and when they break up he’s secretly v happy even before he and jack get together?

like he’s still friends w/ her and all but it makes him even more bitter

CONSIDERING AND APPRECIATING 

okay, so, we know me, I have no chill which means I’m going to amend/expand your statement just a tad for historical accuracy purposes (shocking, I know). 

instead of going to school together, I think esther jacobs, who is canonically a seamstress, could have been the pulitzers’ personal tailor for a time. it would have been pretty early in their childhood, probably, and while she was working, a tiny katherine would sneak off to play with a young sarah jacobs and her little brother, david, who weren’t technically supposed to be there, but the kitchen staff adored them, so they could be found quietly reading and munching on old bread. they were friends in the way that most children are friends; not in a way that encourages lasting relationships, but momentary fun and laughter that will fade as the years pass. 

when esther jacobs was let go after two, three years, david and sarah jacobs never came back to the pulitzers, and never heard from the little girl with the swinging brown curls, tied up with a pretty bow. 

but then david became davey, and davey was best friends with jack, and suddenly- poof! enter katherine plumber pulitzer, stage left. 

davey is, of course, thrilled to see her. fortunately, so is jack. he starts talking to katherine, becoming friends, and davey’s nothing but pleased. but talking turned flirting with katherine, making her smile, making her laugh, and davey can’t seem to make himself pleased about it anymore. his friend is back, and his heart is waltzing out the door at the same tempo. 

they begin dating, and davey’s trying, he is, he swears he is, but he hates it. he hates jack, he hates katherine, he hates himself for feeling this way. there is something wrong with him, he knows it, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. he wishes she had never come back, he wishes he still had his best friend, he wishes that everything would just. stop. 

they break up, and davey’s heart leaps  

he hates himself for that, too. 

everything goes back to normal, but not really, and it’s better. jack’s eyes go from angry to happy again, and katherine seems to be perfectly content with sarah. davey feels like he exhales for the first time in decades. 

they kiss. he and jack. it’s everything. 

and davey’s little world comes full circle, in a way. katherine. sarah. jack. he’s happy, so happy. 

and yet…a tiny voice in the back of his mind hums insistently, reminding him that he was second, second to katherine.

the circle closes, keeps spinning, and david jacobs is along for the ride. his heart is full, there is a grin on his face, and the voice in his mind whispers again and again. still. it’s enough. 

he wishes it is. 

[themadsquirrel09]

On our hands

Written for this 🧡 @kenmanweek2023 ❤️ 

Fandom ☆ South Park

Ship ☆ KenMan ♡ KenEric (Eric Cartman x Kenny McCormick) 

Characters ☆ Kenny, Eric, bit of Mr. Kitty, Stan, Kyle, “Firkle” Smith.

Rating ☆ M

Warnings ☆ Violence, drugs (well, just tegridy), swearing, fluffiness that might give you cavities. They are aged up here. Also, English is not my native language; If you find mistakes, and tell me so I can fix them, I thank you.

Summary ☆ Kenny wonders what is it that keeps him close to his childhood friends, that night he finds out part of that answer. 

About it ☆ December 6th's theme was “Clubhouse!” I’m turning up late because I couldn't stop editing =u=’’ This fanfic works as a one shot, it is also part of an AU I'm slowly working on.

☆ 2664 words ☆

With love: (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Stan

If I think about it, my life is damped by weirdness, dread, fun, and death. Maybe that's why I don't think about it, I just try to face it all with an unreadable look, and a calm disposition. It's ironic, then, that I find satisfaction in those moments of intense feeling, when I can’t contain laughter, pleasure, surprise, or even anger.

Makes me wonder if that’s why we are still always around each other; the four of us, I mean, it is like something sticks us together. Is it my love for intense feelings what keeps me close to my favorite assholes?

I make it to the bus stop, lazy steps, a bit of a blurred view, both because of the snow, and the black eye I have. I'm the first one here today, it's just me, and the snowflakes descending, dancing at the will of the fierce wind.

It's so fucking cold, but I have a trick for it. I look around to make sure nobody is close, take a deep breath, and start singing.

“Alone at the edge of a universe humming a tune

For merely dreaming we were snow”    

Smiling, feeling how my body relaxes a little, I keep the tempo in mind.

“A siren sounds like the goddess

Who promises endless apologies of paradise

And only she can make it right

So things are different tonight”  

Almost without noticing, my eyes are closed, and I'm gesturing with my hands.

“We'll go together in flight”    

My left hand bumps on something, someone! I jump to the side; it can't be sweet (possibly drunk) Stan, or an always open to listen Kyle, it has to be Eric fucking Cartman. I throw off my balance, and he grabs me by the hoodie’s collar, pulling me close to his face like he wants to fight.

He seems pissed, but not exactly, like some emotion I can't name burns from inside.

“Your face looks like shit!” He snaps.

“Fuck off!” He scoffs, and releases me slowly, almost like he waits until I have my balance back to do it. Weirded out by how quiet he gets, I have to ask: “What’s wrong with you, dumb-ass?” 

“With me? I’m not the one with an ass-face.” 

“Ass-face?” That reminds me of an old joke we pulled together, and I’m about to laugh, but he doesn't seem amused; he points at his right eye. Oh, the black eye! I almost forgot. “Yeah, well...” I trail off, I don't know why, I really want to talk about anything that isn’t my singing, so maybe he forgets about it.

“You are still doing it, aren't you, Kenny?” He takes out a cigarette package, and puts one between his lips. Then he starts looking for something as he keeps speaking. “You know, playing to be the hero at night”.

I freeze. 

How? Among all the possibilities, how does he know? He looks at me, and when our eyes lock, he seems surprised for a second, then he looks away. 

That unreadable look I try to keep dropped for a second, Eric caught me smiling like an idiot, (not my polite smile, neither the one I use to flirt); there’s just something about it that makes me happy. Cartman is now searching in his backpack, frustrated.

Getting close, I take out my matches, and light one. I've always loved everything about that: the smell of the matches, the way it sounds when you light it, the fire itself; even if I've died burnt alive, I still feel the same.

Since I'm so enamored looking at the flame, I flinch a little when Cartman takes my hand, he holds it still, and lights his cigarette. I look at Eric's soft features as he takes a drag with his eyes closed.

How is it that someone like him makes me feel calm right now?

“Ok, you got me.” I finally say; when he looks at me, I take the match, and turn it off with my tongue, enjoying the sensation, the taste, and, of course, the disgusted look on Eric's face. I laugh at him, and I catch him smiling at that.

“Are you smoking, again, Cartman?!” Kyle still tries to be the moral compass of this group, and so he tries to bat the cigarette out of Eric's hand, while dragging a mildly drunk Stan. 

The day takes its course.

It is one of those days, though, when I find myself standing close to Cartman, sitting at the desk next to him, feeling like smoking when he sneaks out. Listening to his voice, following every senseless word.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

It shouldn't be such a surprise, that when the night comes, and I find myself looking at Mysterion in the mirror, I remember what Eric said in the morning.

“Was he worried?” The question comes out loud, followed by a snort. I feel so stupid for even considering that, and at the same time, I can't shake the feeling that my hunch is correct.

But I have to focus, this is important to me. All the other's took it as a game, and that's ok, I guess, sometimes I wonder if everything is just a sick game.

I wonder if I'll ever run out of lives.

I always find myself face to face with that question when death is near, and it is happening again, right now, as a rabbit masked guy punches me in the face. Oh no, not the eye that was already black, you motherfucker. I punch back as hard as I can, and look at the little goth, who's crying. He is the victim this time, I might not get his money back, but at least he will be alive.

“Dude! Fucking run!” I get to say before the creep gets up, and hits me right in the gut. I fall to the floor, but feel relieved when I see the goth is already running away.

Through my grunts, and the sound of the beating I'm taking, I hear a siren. Immediately, my attacker stops, and bails. He doesn’t even pick up the gun I got to kick from his hand. The fuck just happened? Has my luck finally changed? I smile at the thought of that, then I pass out.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

“Did I die, and went to heaven... again?” I ask faintly when all I can see are those pensive eyes so close to mine, illuminated by colorful lights. The puzzled look is also pretty. 

“If you think this is heaven, I'll have to take you to the hospital.” I shake my head at the word hospital. Where did you go? 

“I hate hospitals!” 

“I know, Kenny, but then why do you keep doing this?” He comes back with a wet cloth, and keeps cleaning my face; I start to understand little by little. 

“Eric?” 

“What?!” He snaps, why is he pissed? 

“Where am I?” 

“In our Clubhouse.” Even now that we grew up, this place is huge. Cartman even had electricity installed, but it all looks so much better! Like he has been spending a lot of time here. I think about what he just said, our clubhouse, huh? Smiling hurts, but I can't help it.

“How did I get here?” He looks at me for a bit. I wonder if it is the colorful Christmas lights he uses for the place, how he patiently cleans my wounds, or a concussion, but I can't stop noticing how cute he is. Well, at least with my good eye.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? I heard a noise, I followed it, and found you here.” I can’t remember that, it hurts my head just to try.

“Why are you helping me?” He laughs.

“How do you know I'm helping you? Maybe I'm just curious to see you die.” Eric puts his hands around my neck, and presses a bit. He has the softest hands I've ever felt. I let out a satisfied hum.

“Erotic asphyxiation has been one of my favorite deaths, go ahead then.” He lets go instantly.

“Goddammit, Kenny!” Cartman stands up, and storms out. I close my eye for a second, and breath, trying to stop myself from laughing, as it really hurts. I hear his steps on the wood, the water running. We even got plumbing installed, didn't we? 

When I look at him from afar, a realization hits me, my laughter dies instantly.

I haven't noticed because the mask, ears, and cape are missing, but Eric is in his disguise: he is The Coon. Looking down, I find I'm laying over a sleeping bag, and it is not a cover what keeps me warm, but The Coon's cape. My heart hammers with all its might, like it wants to be left out to curse, and explode.

I wonder if this time I'm going to die from a heart attack.

Why would you save my life, and then lie about it?! It can't be, right? But I have to know. So I stand up, ignoring how much it fucking hurts, grabbing what I can to get close to him. He turns, maybe at the sound of my steps, and rushes to me just before my legs give up, I fall into his arms, and we both land on the floor.

“Kenny!” Oh, you can’t fake that voice, that urgent look in the eyes. He curses as he takes me back to the sleeping bag. “Kenny, what the hell?” 

“You fucking liar!” He ignores my accusation, as he seems more worried about treating a reopened wound. “If you just want to see how I die, then stop trying, let me die!” I bat his hand away from me, and Eric turns red out of anger, but it also looks like he is about to cry.

“Shut up, Kenny, you asshole!” I take my hand to his face, and place it in his burning cheek. 

“You don't wanna see me die, huh? You saved my life,” He looks at me, his frown dissolves. “Admit it!” 

“OK! You got me! God fucking damn it,” He leans a bit into my hand. “Will you stop crying now?” Then he goes back to the bandages, tightening loose ends.

“I'm not crying.”

“Ha! Who's the liar now? Fucker,” As he says that, he goes away for a bit, and when I touch my face I notice that yes, I'm crying, I'm not really sure why, but it is relieving, so I let the tears flow. 

Eric comes back. “Here,” he offers me a neatly made blunt, “You are always on about the medicinal powers of weed, and shit.” Honestly, I never thought he was listening to me. I grab him, and pull him into a hug.

“Let me go, Kenny… ” He says weakly, not bothering to fight my affection. And I remember this morning, I was wondering what kept me close to Stan, Kyle, and Cartman. I'm pretty sure about the answer now, at least when it comes to Eric. 

“I don't wanna let go,” He sits up slowly, and I cling onto his neck, allowing him to lift me up. “Thank you, Eric,” I say, holding him tight. And it is weird, how the happiness, and affection I feel at this moment makes me forget about the physical pain. As a reply, I feel his arms wrap around me softly.

“Am I a hero?” I really wish I noticed before that I wasn't the only one who took it seriously. I finally let him go, to look into his eyes.

“You are a hero,” I admit, he smiles, seeming sincerely touched; I take his hands in mine, and hold them, “You are my hero.” I enjoy the shocked, then flustered look as he struggles to escape my grip. It is not everyday you get to see the shy side of Cartman, it is like the hidden face of the moon.

I take the blunt from his hand, and look for my matches. When I find them, I place myself with my back against the wall, he sits beside me. I take a drag, and pass it to him before it goes out. When I watch how the smoke escapes his lips, I feel mine go dry remembering our kissing lessons; but then I look at his eyes, and notice the dark circles under them. 

“This place looks better than ever, are you living here, or what?” 

“Sometimes. I like it here.” 

“You said it is our clubhouse, so I can come whenever I want, right?” 

“Well… ” He gives me back the blunt, and gets himself inside the sleeping bag, “Only if you finish it.”

“The hell are you talking about, Eric?”

“The song, the one you were singing at the bus stop.”

“Dude,” my voice comes out low, but my heart protests loudly; now I'm the one feeling shy. “It's a fucking long song, like 7 minutes, shit!”

“I don't care, Kenny, it is our clubhouse, but my garden. If you wanna make a deal, start singing.” He lies on his side, smiling at me, so full of himself. Then he closes his eyes; I know it won't take him long to fall asleep. Fuck! 

Fuck it. 

I take that old smartphone the guys gave me years ago, and play the song's karaoke. I breathe into my gut, and let it out. 

“Alone at the edge of a universe humming a tune

For merely dreaming we were snow

A siren sounds like the goddess

Who promises endless apologies of paradise

And only she can make it right

So things are different tonight”  

It might be dumb, but the song makes sense to me for the first time. I take another puff, looking at Eric, wondering if he is still awake.

“We'll go together in flight”  

I hope he is sleeping, as I slowly lie on my side, facing him, making sure not to sing too loud the next part.

“It's now and never

A reverie endeavor

Awaits somnambulant directives

To take the helm

Believe me, darling

The stars were made for falling

Like melting obelisks

As tall as another realm”  

Oh, shit, the part in french! If he is listening, he'll never let me live this one down.

But I’m determined to finish what I started.

“Un ensemble d'enfants

La galaxie s'étend

Jardin de l'imagination

Combler la lacune

Roller passé la lune

Comme nous evoluons

It feels like flying

But maybe we're dying

A cosmic confluence of

Pyramids hologrammed

She knows you heard her

Staging music murder

In line before the show began

To be where I am”      

I hear a noise, that's when I see Mr. Kitty! 

The cat comes right to me, and crashes our foreheads, which hurts, but mostly makes me laugh; I take it as cat affection. He climbs Cartman’s side, who grunts softly, but seems asleep.

“To know

We are beyond a bow

And lo, the hues arrange to show

It's perfectly clear”    

It is strange how Eric can look so peaceful. His hands are right in front of me, so I take them in mine. 

There’s no reaction.

“You look quite divine tonight

Here among these vibrant lights

Pure delights surround us as we sail

Signed, yours truly, the whale

Joy mirage's kingdom come

No one left at stake

Now that existence is on the wake

Let's see what we can make”     

Mr. Kitty climbs down, and lies right between us, looking at me.

I hum, then sing a bit to him, getting a loud purr as a reply.

“Bye, hi

Sigh, Hawaii

We never meant to part

Sublime, thy art     

One light

Higher than the Sun

Invisible to some

Until it's time”      

At the last verse, my gaze falls on our hands, and I fight how sleepy I am just to linger a bit in the sensation. 

Drifting to the point of no return, I feel Eric’s hands squeezing mine lightly, I wonder if I'm already dreaming.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅••❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The end (for now!)

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Final notes 💌

I loved writing this, and I hope you loved reading it!

A little of context: they are in the last year of school. If something is left unsaid, it is because I'm slowly working on this AU for my favorite troublemakers. 

About the song: I chose one that would suit Kenny’s voice, I thought this one was good, and my own Mr Kitty agreed! Kenny learned to sing, reaching a professional level on S04E04 ∣ Quintuplets 2000. That song, as I see it, ended up working on more levels than expected, you can find it here.

[vendettaparker]

The Art of Scraping Through: Prologue—There's an Art to Life's Distractions

Summary: Working is what brings you joy, and ever since you left home, seven years ago, that’s where you found your comfort and your people, but one shocking phone call from Maine has you racing back to it’s quiet streets. 

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: swearing, slight angst, minor character deaths mentioned, typos

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The tension was palpable as you and Tom’s silverware clinked against your plates, the dinner you made clearly going to waste seeing as neither of you had much of an appetite. Both you merely pushed the food around into mush. 

He was late coming home again, and of course, on the night of your birthday, the one night you truly just wanted him to be there. No gifts, no lavish expenses, just him, the way it used to be. Before all of the fame and all of the scandals. 

“This is delicious, sweetheart,” he looked up from his plate to tell you. 

“Thank you,” you set your fork down. Here goes nothing, “but it’d be more genuine if you actually tried at least one fucking bite.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m so sick of this,” you sighed, taking the napkin from your lap and throwing it on the table, “I’m sick of playing house with you. I don’t even like this stupid fucking Malibu-Barbie life you’ve coaxed me into.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about? You’re the one that picked this house—”

“It’s not about the house!” You snapped, “It’s everything! You’re never home anymore. You don’t care about me, you walk out that fucking door every morning and leave to do God knows what and you just hope I’m waiting for you when you get home. Like I’m some—some—” 

“What? Like you’re my bitch?” Tom bit at you, causing your face to drop at the word, “Well, guess what, darling,” he overemphasized the term of endearment, “you are my bitch, and you have been ever since you said, “I do”.”

“Fuck you, Marcus,” you spat, taking the rest of your wine and throwing it at him, “Ho buttato via tutta la mia vita dietro a te! Quel tempo non lo riavrò mai indietro! Non ti amo più!” You began to cry as you screamed at Tom and pointed an angry finger at him, punctuating each sentence with it. 

Tom groaned and flew out of his chair, “You know I don’t understand you when you talk like that!” He yelled, “and this suit? Two thousand dollar Armani that you just ruined. So fuck me? Fuck you, darling!”

“And cut!” The director, Cherry, yelled from behind the camera and the blazing lights on the set, “that’s a wrap for the dinner scene.” 

You took a deep breath after getting so worked up. Today’s scenes had been especially hard, seeing as you had to fight it out with Tom all day, and with Tom being so into method acting, he decided to really hone that relationship tension by avoiding you all morning and all last night. Of course, the end result was well worth it. The smile you saw on Cherry’s face when the lights turned on said it all. 

“Darling?” Tom brushed his thumb underneath your eye to catch any stray tears, “you okay?” 

“Mhm,” you hummed, looking up at him with a smile, “just a rough scene.” 

Tom pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I know, but you did amazing,” he murmured against your skin, “you always do.” 

“Tom,” Cherry called from her chair, “could you come here for a moment? I have some notes I want to go over with you for the next scene.” 

“I, on the other hand, could use some work,” Tom joked, squeezing your shoulder before pulling away and walking off towards the director’s chair. 

“(Y/N),” Emily, your assistant and best friend since senior year, beamed as she walked over to you, “you are on fire today.” 

“Thanks, Em,” you smiled, as she handed you a bottle of water, “I was actually a little worried about this scene. You know I hate being such a bitch to Tom.” 

“Oh, he can take it,” Emily assured you, “besides, you get to make it all up to him later,” she sing-songed in your ear, grabbing your shoulders and swaying you with her. 

You and Tom were coming up on your two-year anniversary, but due to scheduling conflicts, you wouldn't be in the same city on that day. So you and Tom decided to celebrate while you were still filming. Even though you had work on your mind and Tom understood how focused you wanted to be on that, you both decided that it was also important to be together for such a significant milestone. 

“Dude,” you scrunched your nose, before taking a sip from your water bottle, “anyways, do I have any calls I’m missing?” you asked. 

Emily shook her head, “Just some stuff from back home, but you know I always send those straight to voicemail.” 

“And I love you for that,” you said seriously, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“You trying to steal my girl again?” Tom asked as he came up beside you and wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“No, but I totally could,” Emily smirked, biting your cheek. 

You looked at Tom and nodded, “She totally could. Especially after you ignored my calls all day yesterday and just called me your bitch,” you chided him, though it held no malice, you understood how that extra tension added to the scene and helped you both out. 

“Just doing my job, darling,” Tom defended before pressing a kiss to your cheek and wrapping his arm around you, “I didn’t even think that would work,” he admitted, “I only ignored you for one day.”

“Yeah, but talking to you is the best part of my day,” you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Emily gagged over-exaggeratedly and walked off. 

Tom wrapped his arms fully around your waist and looked lovingly into your eyes, “You’re so whipped,” he smiled. 

You let go and pulled away from him, “Nope,” you shook your head, “See, now you’ve ruined it.” 

“What? Darling?” Tom laughed, keeping his arms tightly around you as you tried to squirm away, “I was only joking.” 

“You ruined the moment, Tommy,” you huffed, “and if anything, you’re my bitch. 

“You’re right,” Tom conceded, “I’m such a bitch for you.” 

“Shut up,” you laughed. 

“Come on lovebirds,” Cherry eyed the two of you, “I need you both in hair and makeup and then I need to go over the next scene.” 

Tom finally released you and was about to run off to get his hair touched up, but you grabbed his hand before he got too far. “Wait, give me a kiss,” you said. 

“I thought I ruined our moment?” Tom smirked. 

“You can redeem yourself,” you offered, puckering your lips for Tom to peck. 

Tom chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, “Love you,” he whispered as he pulled away. 

“I love you too, bitch,” you smiled before running off to your own hair and makeup station. 

Emily was already there, tapping away on her phone. She had a chai latte in one hand, while her thumb furiously tapped the device in her other. 

“You two of disgustingly cute,” she said as you sat down. The hairstylist began taking bobby pins out of your hair as you and Emily talked. 

You smiled and eyed her, “Sounds like someone’s a little jealous,” you joked, “did your date last night not go well?” 

“Don’t even get me started,” Emily rolled her eyes, “first she showed up nearly thirty minutes late, and then she made this weird fucking joke about doing it with her dog, at least, I hope it was a joke.” 

You laughed, “you’re kidding?” 

“Nope,” Emily shook her head, “and to top it all off, she made me pay.” 

“You’ve gotta stop using that dating app, Em,” you chuckled, “I swear nobody’s even heard of it. You’re better off just trying Tinder or Bumble at this point.” 

“Hey, I may have had a few bumps in the road, but I like Magic Molly’s Mystical Match Maker. At least all of the people are interesting. Like this girl, Bobbi, she runs an underground circus in Brooklyn.” 

“That might be code for drug empire, but whatever you say,” you laughed, grabbing your phone from the makeup table. 

“Oh, don’t forget about the appearance you’re making tomorrow.” 

“Right,” you nodded, pulling up your calendar. It was completely packed, multi-colored squares filled each day of the week for the next sixteen weeks it seemed, “what’s it for again?” 

“The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon,” Emily looked up from her phone, “he talked to you about it right?” 

“Oh, yeah, I remember. Yeah, he’s been in touch.” 

“Okay, good,” Emily nodded, “I have Sasha scheduled to meet you at the studio with your outfit. Do you want Hermes or Gucci?” 

“Is that even a question?” you asked, “Gucci, of course.” 

“Of course,” Emily rolled her eyes playfully. 

“(Y/N),” Tom came up with an apologetic frown on his face. You were just about to get out of your chair when you saw the look he was giving you. You let out a sigh and slumped back into your seat. 

“Oh no,” you said, “what’s wrong?” 

“The basement in the townhouse flooded,” Tom informed you. 

“What? But it hasn’t even been raining that hard.” 

“I know, darling,” Tom sighed, “but these old houses are tricky like that, I guess.” 

“Well, what do we do? We can’t just leave set—”

“Don’t worry, I sent Harry over there to make sure it gets taken care of, I just needed to let you know because I’m also going to have him take Chowder to a daycare for the night.” 

“Okay,” you sighed, rubbing your forehead, “that’s fine. Can you also have him grab my folders from the basement? They should be on the table down there. They have all my brand deals and I don’t want to lose track of that.” 

“Okay, I’ll let him know.” 

“Do you need anything from me?” Emily asked, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly. 

“No,” you shook your head, “I’m all g—” you were cut off by your phone going off again, which wasn’t particularly uncommon, seeing as you did have hundreds of calls a day, many from people you’d never even met. But what was keeping you on edge was the location of the calls: Stonington, Maine. 

“I can try to block that number for you,” Emily offered, reaching for your phone. 

You handed it to her, “How many times have they called?” 

“More than twenty today,” she said, making a sense of dread wash over you. 

The buzzing stopped as you thought it over, finally deciding, “Just answer it if they call again and find out what they want. It’s probably nothing.” 

“Okay,” Emily nodded. 

Tom looked confused between the two of you, “Is everything alright?” 

“Mhm,” you look up at him from your chair, “of course, now come on, Cherry will have our heads if we’re late to set.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The phone rang again that evening, just as you and Tom were getting your final notes from Cherry. Emily was at the coffee station getting another cup for you to take on the road. The phone started buzzing in her pocket, she pulled it out and took one look at the location with no caller ID and answered. 

“Hello, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s assistant, she is unavailable right now, can I take a message?” 

You were just walking up while Emily was in the middle of the conversation, Tom's arm slung around yours. 

“Are you sure?” Emily asked, biting her nail as she saw you walk towards her. She waved you over and pointed to the phone, mouthing one word: home.

You pulled away from Tom, who was nonsensically talking about what restaurant to go to that night. 

“One sec, babe,” you said quickly, jogging up to Emily. 

“No,” Emily said, “she doesn’t have any. Mhm, yes, I understand. Um, here she is right now actually,” she handed the phone to you. 

“What?—” you held the phone to your ear, “Hello?” 

“Hello,” a woman on the other line said, “is this (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” 

“Yes, this is she.” 

Emily looked nervously around, picking at her nails as you took the call away from her and Tom, back towards your dressing room. 

“Who was that?” Tom asked. 

“CPS from Maine,” Emily looked at where you just walked off to. 

“What? Why would CPS be calling (Y/N)?” 

Emily sighed and shrugged, picking up her own phone and beginning to rearrange your schedule. 

“Ms. (Y/L/N), I’m really sorry to inform you about your brother’s passing,” the lady said, “but he left his daughter to you. I need to know when you can be back in town to sign these papers.” 

You were sitting on the couch in your dressing room with your head in your hands and your phone pressed tightly to your ear, “I-I can’t,” you said, “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find other arrangements. I haven’t talked to my brother in years—”

“Honey,” the woman’s tone softened. You cringed at the nickname, “I know this is a lot for you right now, but there is a little girl here waiting for you. She just lost her dad and you’re the only family she has left.” 

“I’ve never even met her,” you argued, “you can’t just tell me that I’m responsible for her all of the sudden.” 

The woman sighed dejectedly, “Well, you’ll still need to come in and sign over your rights then,” she said, “and then she'll be moved into the system.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and squeezed your shut, the frustration of the situation giving you a migraine, “Yeah, fine,” you sighed, “I’ll be on the next flight out.” 

“Okay, I’ll have the papers waiting for you at our office in Brooksville,” the woman said, sadness in her tone, and maybe even a bit of disappointment. “We’ll see you then. Buh-bye now.” 

“Bye,” you hung up with a sigh. 

You tossed your phone onto the table and held your head in your hands for a moment. 

You hadn’t been back home in seven years. You hadn’t even heard from your brother in at least that long. You left as soon as you could, running into the next gig you could. Job after job after job, until you clawed your way to the top. You didn’t have time for home anymore, or the people you used to associate that word with. You had new people. Like Tom, he was your person. He was your home. Since you met him, you didn’t even think about what happened in your past or what made you run. 

The last time you heard from Chet was one odd text you got, about a year after you left; 

I know I messed up, and I’m sorry about that, more sorry than you can even imagine. But I just became a dad, and I’m turning myself around. It would mean a lot to me if you could come home, just for a little while. Love you. 

You honestly didn’t even believe him at the time. You read the text one night after you’d finally gotten back to your hotel after hours and hours of filming with no break, you just scoffed. You took one look at that message and deleted his contact. 

Chet was notorious for trying to get money out of people. It started small, a couple of bucks here and there for gas and food, maybe even a few hundreds when he needed textbooks for school, back when that was still an option. Then it escalated, three thousand dollars in one purchase from your parents' account, taken right from under their noses. 

Your parents were saints though. They never thought their little baby boy could do any wrong. They saw his flaws, of course, they couldn’t ignore things like that, but in the end, they decided the best way to help him was the reassure him that everything was going to be alright. So even after he flunked out of college, they opened their arms and their home for him. 

Your parents were stretched so thin at that point. Your mom split her time between taking you to auditions and to school and also helping Chet find a job. Your dad ended up doing a lot of overtime to cover the cost of the life Chet wanted to live and the money he took out of the joint account they shared. Your parents were saints still, they never blamed him. Even when they found where the money was really going. All the drugs and the booze he stashed in his room. Your mom always told you not to judge him; he was going through a rough patch. 

“He’s not ambitious like you are, honey,” your mom sighed as she cleaned up the beer stains from the carpet, “you should be grateful. You’re so talented and charming, you can really make it in this world.” 

And then one night, when you were seventeen, your parents decided that they deserved a break—and they were right, of course—so Chet, drove them to the airport. It was three in the morning when you were woken up to the sound of banging on your front door. And when you met the eyes of the policeman who greeted you there, you just knew. 

You try not to think about it too much. Part of you even thinks you blocked it out so much that you simply can’t remember. Chet was taken to the hospital and he stayed there for two weeks before being taken to the county jail. 

You planned the funerals on your own, with the help of Emily and her family. And the minute every in their black attire left the cemetery, you left too. You went back home and got all of your bags packed. Emily’s parent’s paid for your ticket out of there, and you haven’t looked back since. 

Emily met up with you a few years later, and when you said you needed an assistant and she needed a job, it seemed like a no-brainer. By then you had to prominence and had made a name for yourself. You had never been happier. 

“Darling,” Tom’s thumb under your eye, caressing your cheek and wiping the remnant of tears is what snapped you from your thoughts, “what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” 

You hadn’t even realized you were crying. The news must’ve hit you harder than you thought. 

“Y-Yeah,” you wiped your tears yourself, pushing Tom’s prying hands away, though his touch was usually comforting, “I just—” you shook your head and sniffled, “did you make reservations yet? For tonight?” 

“No,” Tom sat next to you, “I didn’t get around to it yet, why, darling?” 

“We’ll just have to reschedule,” you shrugged, looking at Tom with an apologetic frown, “I have to go back home to Maine tonight.” 

“What? Why?” 

Emily came into the room, eyes glued to her phone as she tapped away, “I already have to plane booked, (Y/N), but if you’re going to make this flight then you need to go now.” 

“I—,” you picked your phone up off the table and huffed, “fuck,” you sighed, “I don’t have time to explain, Tom.” 

“You can’t just leave,” Tom grabbed your hand, “we’re in the middle of filming—”

“I just have to get this done. My brother died and I have to settle some things, that’s all. I just have to sign a few papers—” 

“Your brother? Darling, wait—” Tom tightened his grip even as you tried to pull away, “you said you didn’t have any family.” 

“I-I didn’t,” you mumbled, “at least, not any that mattered to me.” 

“(Y/N),” Tom’s voice held concern. Concern that you had been hiding things from him. Concern that you had been dealing with things on your own. Concern that you were dealing with this on your own. You had always been the strong one in the relationship. Tom was the more sensitive one between the two of you, and now with the news of your brother passing, though it was completely shocking, considering he didn’t even know you had any family, he was ready to hold you through it like you’d held him so many times before, “just wait, take a breath, please.” 

Tom held both of your shoulders in his hand, “What’s going on?” 

“I got a call from the CPS in Maine,” you explained, “my brother left his daughter to me so I have to go to Maine and—” 

“You’re taking her in?” Tom questioned as his eyes lit up, a small smile present on his face. The situation wasn’t ideal, not by any means but he had always wanted kids. He’s always wanted a family with you, and though his heart was broken with sympathy for the poor girl, losing her father, he felt honored to be able to help you through this. This was all happening so fast and so suddenly, but somehow it felt almost right. 

There had been something missing in your relationship lately, Tom thought. It was almost as if the two of you had reached a stand-still. Tom still loved you, beyond anything words could describe, so he figured this was just the feeling that meant it was time for the next step. So in his dresser, back at the townhouse you rented, was a little black box he was going to whip out at dinner. But plans changed, and now something new was coming into your lives. Someone new. 

“No,” you shook your head, “I’m signing my rights away.” 

“Why?” 

You looked at Tom like he was crazy for asking that, “I can’t raise a kid, Tom,” you shook your head, “with my schedule and my lifestyle, I just don’t have time or-or any interest—” 

“You wouldn’t be doing it alone though,” Tom said, “and what about in the future if we wanted kids?” 

“That’s a discussion for the future,” you began to pull away from Tom, “but this discussion,” you motioned between the two of you, “is over. I have a plane to catch.” 

“But, what if—” 

“Tom, just drop it!” you snapped, “Okay? I’m also so stressed out right now, I don’t need you questioning every fucking move I make, especially a move this fucking big!” 

Emily finally looked up from her phone, mouth agape at the way you just blew up at Tom, the dam of emotions in you finally breaking. She tucked her arm in yours and led you away out into the hall as she began telling you the plan for the next day and how she rearranged the schedule. She knew it helped you best to destress by making sure you knew what was going on and when. 

“I spoke to Cherry about the situation and she said she can continue filming without you for a day or two, and as long as we’re back in town by tomorrow at six, you should be all set for The Tonight Show, but worst case scenario, I have Jimmy’s producer on speed dial.” 

“Okay,” you sighed, “thank you, you’re the best.” 

“Well, you don’t pay for mediocrity,” Emily smiled, “now, I have a car on its way. I had it stop at the house and get your things. Harry is there now, so I had him pack you a quick bag.”

“What about your things?” 

“My mom still lives back home,” Emily waved her hand dismissively, “I’ll just stop by there for a change of clothes.”  

“Okay then, well then I guess let’s get going.” 

You were just about the walk past security when you heard rapid footsteps behind you, running after you. 

“Wait, (Y/N)!” Tom stopped you.

“I’ll make sure everything is in the car,” Emily said as she walked off, flashing her ID to security as she left. 

“Tom,” you sighed, “I gotta go.” 

“I know, I know,” Tom nodded, “I just wanted to say sorry, okay? I love you and I didn’t mean t-to make you stressed or anything, I just wanted you to know that you aren’t alone in this and that I love you and care about you—” 

“Tom—”

“No, I was out of line,” Tom shook his head, “just, the idea of a family with you really makes me so happy and I know that this is a lot right now so I just—I’m sorry for overwhelming you, seriously. I love you so much, okay,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I just wanna be there for you.” 

“I know,” you nodded, “I love you too, Tom. I’ll see you when I get back, okay?” 

Tom wrapped his arms around you, “You’ll call me when you land, right?” 

“Of course, but I gotta go, Tom,” you pulled away and let out a sigh, “I really do love you.” 

“I know, baby.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The plane ride was only a little over an hour long, and with Emily already having an Uber booked and a return flight ready, you were supposed to be back in New York by the next morning. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Emily asked, resting her hand on your arm. 

“Yeah, I just want to get this over with.” 

Emily nodded, “I know it’s hard coming back here for you, but, maybe this’ll be good for you? Like, maybe it’ll be nice to take a break a come home for a bit.” 

“This isn’t me ‘coming home’, Em,” you sighed, “this is me fixing another one of Chet’s mistakes and making sure that girl gets a good life.”

“Good life? In the system? And at her age? That’s unheard of,” Emily said honestly. 

“I can’t take care of a kid,” you looked at Emily sternly, “you know my schedule wouldn’t allow for it.” 

“Fuck the schedule,” Emily said, “although I did spend days perfecting it,” she joked, “life is about more than just going from one event to the next. An you wouldn’t be doing this alone,” she pointed out, “Tom was right, you’d have him and me and his entire family.” 

 “Emily…” you warned.

“I’m just saying, I feel like you have a lot of love to give, (Y/N). You blocked part of your heart out a long time ago, well maybe it’s time you open it up again.” 

You shook your head just as the seatbelt overhead light turned on. “The plane’s about the land,” you said, “let’s just get today over with. We have a lot of work tomorrow.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A/N: wow guys! already on to a new series :) i have this series super heavily mapped out, so hopefully it won’t take too long to update it. but i also just wanna say how excited i am for this series. i planned it our as i was finishing bty, and one of things that pushed me to finish bty was the possibility of starting this series, so i really hope you all enjoy it!

(banner from @lauras-collection)

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✧tags & moots✧ PERM

@ptergwen​ @princessofguineapigs​ @peterbenjiparker​ @cherrytholland​ @itsapeterthing​ @justapurrcat​ @kelieah​ @celestialholland  @hollandcrush​ @scarletspideyy​ @blissfulparker​ @spidernerdsblog​ @spideyspeaches​ @andilovetowrite​ @sinisterspidey​ @annathesillyfriend​ @lovelybarnes​ @white-wolf1940​ @arvinsescape​ @super-not-naturall​ @allthisfortommy​ @selfcarecap​ @misshale21​ @morganwilliams-blog-blog​ @loveaffaire​ @angelmavmurdock​ @pogueslandia​ @tomshufflepuff​ @hallecarey1​ @a-daydreamers-day​ @holland-styles​ @cloudyfeel​ @peni5parker​ @slut-for-steve-rogers​ @kitkatt18-blog​ @kitkat2015-blog​ @bookfrog242​ @slutforfics​ @wildxwidow​ @prancerrparkerr​ @petesrparker @arlo-sanders​ @sxuxgarplxum​ @peter-parkers-gf​ @namoreno​ @andrewgarfields-girlfriend​ @byersboys​ @xoxokiaraaxoxo​ @hollandsvogue-blog​ @marvelobsessed10031917​ @z3ndaya​ @sunflowerfive​ @yunho-leeknow​ @xxxstormyninixxx​ @marvelhasmyheart235​ @lowkey-holland​ @blahblahblah-boo @nocturnalms @happyt0exist​ @kpostedsum​ @noemiix1​ @mischieftom​ @sophi54 @allazay101 @spideybrina @rqmanoff @rory-cakes @parkerdarling​ @samaraaaaa-blog @freds-slut  @misslady246 @tonystarksfavoritedaughter @adayasgeorgia @mn-jun @spider-man-stiles-gubler @wildholland @demirunner @marvelobsessedteen @lolooo22 @moniffazictress11 @sleepybesson @sweetpeterparker @bradtomlovesya @teenwishes08 @hogwartsmarvelmommy @dracoswhore007 @elishi03 @beth-gallagher22 @hunnybunimdun @badbatch-simp24 @raajali3 @vibezayn91 @heyyitsreign @iamsherloki-wholocked @itscaminow @blankspaceblankday @denkisclown @spideysloverera @minejungwoo @dirtytissuebox @whoeveniskendall @princessnnylzays @katie-navarro @hollandscherry @demirunner @lucypevensie111-blog @dottirose @tiaamberxx @wh0re4zaynmalik @luvwanda @kinlie-l @cevans-winchester @502spidey @wondergal2001 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @belovedholland @randomstufflol29 @t-lostinworlds @kaitieskidmore1 @milkiane @pandaxnienke @onceuponameli @ju1cyang3l @maximoffbarnesprotectionsquad @indouloureux @d22malfoys @chaoticevilbakugo @princessnnylzays @cmrxac @edgycatx @seolaseoul @evermoresilk @uwiuwi @meghanmhill1 @esposamultifandom @princessatoru @evanstanwhore @alohastitch0626 @f-ergj @lovesanimals0000 @eichenhouseproperty @1-800-imagines @aslutformarauders @thelaststraw3 @s-we-e-t-t-ea @queeniequinn @totheblood @liltimmyst @jayheartswritting @ptrsprincess @zendayassimp @lnmp89 @chxosunbound @kazbekkarluvbot @bath1lda @gypsytraveler86-blog @madsttx @bitch616 @alicjaalaki @tsuyuthestrange @princessria127 @LongLiveJuicy

✧tags & moots✧ TOM HOLLAND

@hollandlover19 | @worldoftom @hollandsrecs @theonly1outof-a-billion @thevelvetseries @moonchild-s-blog @lmaotshollandd @tomhollandlol @outshineallthestars @summer-paris-lights

[turntabless]

hi love!!!!

The Colour and the Shape by Foo Fighters

🔮 the colour and the shape - foo fighters 🔮

welcome back to turntable takes!!! this week we have a request sent from the wonderful, absolutely lovely @lord-of-the-weird !! love you darling <3 things in my life kinda exploded so i am getting to this waaaaayyyyy too late, but here we are!

genres: alternative rock, grunge, hard rock, punk rock

doll

ohhhhh. the soft vocals through that crackly radio filter in the beginning is so beautiful? and the soft strumming of the guitar is so perfect. ‘doll me up in my bad luck / i’ll meet you there’ is suuuch an intriguing line. the introduction of the drums being louder and then backing off as the clear vocals come in? insane. BASS pretty yummy wowowow. god i swear i wanna eat these vocals. oooooooo soft to RASPY!!!

monkey wrench

OH FUCK this one is immediately different!!! huuuuuge guitar moment at the very beginning of it! such a masterful change in tone and tempo. THE FULL STOP. GOD YEAH. these lyrics and the riff that reappears in between the lines??? yum yum yum. i swear the little bit of whine in dave’s voice especially during the chorus is soooooooo lovely it’s so perfect for the song i think especially when his voice is so raspy for a lot of the song??? OHHH stripped back layered vocals on the ‘temper’ repeated lines?? DAVE SCREAMING? god this fucks!!!! so cathartic!!!!! and right back to the chorus??? perfect. the drums are so solid and the bass and guitar work so well together this FUCKS! adore the repeating ‘fall in fall out’ parts!!

hey, johnny park!

ohoHO drum breakdown to begin. scrumptious. guitars joining in sooooo well with so much crunch??? lovely. OOOOO stripping back the heavy guitars dave’s voice is SHINING with the strumming guitar n full bass. drums there just enough to notice and love. BACK to the heavier instrumentals with soft vocals that move into rasp??? WHEW. also these lyrics hurt as well!!! it’s such an emotive album so far but it’s SO good? OH little falsetto moment in the layered backing vocals. TRULY living for the slight whine in his voice i’m TELLING you. oooooooo cute lil guitar moment. the lead is so Clear and it’s just breaking out of the muddy bass and rhythm. DRUM BREAK AGAIN. RASPIER HEAVIER VOCS this is insane!

my poor brain

oh SHUT UP fade in to this song????? INCREDIBLE. that was SICK!! chaotic distortion of the instrumental and then a quick flip to soft strumming and a nice bassline??? HIGHER VOCALS that kinda melt into the instruments a little bit??? TO HARD HEAVY GUITAR BASS DRUMS and then BACK TO SOFT????????? FOO FIGHTERS ULTIMATE KINGS OF SWITCHING UP THE VIBE !!!! AGAIN this heavy chorus is INSANE and tbh… the drums are doing it for me so much. OOO cute lil electrical/phone(?) noises during a screaming breakdown. lead guitar higher just melting into the mud of the bass n drums so nicely. ‘sometimes i wish that i could change / i can’t save you from my poor brain’ oowwwwwwwwww. this ending instrumental fucks!

wind up

OH. OH YOURE KIDDING. yummy yummy warbling guitar with heavy drums and a SICK riff. this melody too is so cool with the little descending notes?? yum. SCREAM BABYGIRL. truly this is really cool to see how they play with pitch and melody to set the tone??? because the chorus is a bit softer and the instrumentals are more stripped back. DISTORTION AGAIN OOOOOIHHHJ i love when guitar starts Bleating at me like it’s truly TRULY A FAVOURITE THING. MORE SCREAMING GO BABE !!!!

up in arms

oooooooooo fuzzy guitar immediately yummy. soft!!!! slightly echoey vocals and a Very grungy feel with the music until they get stripped back again. yummmmmmm the fuzz is so nice. NO FUCKING WAY. DRUM BREAKDOWN INTO FASTER HARDER GUITAR THIS FUCKS!!!! his voice still between soft n hardcore it’s so scratching the brain. THE WHINE. FUCK YEAHHHHHH. MMMHM. oooooo FUCK GUITAR SOLO THIS FUCKS. feels like a teen movie tbh. niiiiice stripped back ending with some drum beats to break it up

my hero

DRUMS BASS SHINING IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS INSANELY GOOD FOR ME. oooo sexy lil riff. the chorus and the construction of the melody is so intriguing and the lyrics KILL. emotional guitar and you can feel it in the vocals so well!! oooooh. the lil turn of the guitar going slightly flat was such a yummy choice. nah this is so COOL. TEMPO INSTRUMENTAL VOCALS PICKING UP FOR SOME HEAVINESS. scrumptious. this lil ascending riff is sooooo good. oooooo distorted guitar noodling to finish it

see you

acoustic???? moment????? oooooo this is insane. this feels SO GOOD. oh my god. BASS IS SO CLEAR THIS IS IT FOR ME. whine is back and i’m so happy but he has such range and control on these vocs??? oooo instruments picking up slightly. lil more distortion. stripped back down. is this an upright bass also??? it sounds so much like one i’m not sure. LAYERED VOCALS LETS GO!!!! this is really pretty actually :’)

enough space

DISTORTION LETS GOOOOO i love songs that start with some funky noises. SHUT UP THIS BASS IS SO FAT N CRUNCHY this is for ME! heavy guitars let’s GO!!! we’re so back <3 OH that bass is so fucking clear i love it here. scrumptious. RASP YELL SCREAM !!!!! yeah yeah yeahhhhhh. nah they’re tooooo good at switching the tempo. chorus is when shit starts picking up and it reaches that crescendo and is stripped back so immediately after and soooooo well. looooove this guitar as well. insane. so warbled and muddy. fucks HARD all throughout. sharp cut off. great.

february stars

stoooooop are you fucking with me???? isolated piano???? soft vocals????? LAYERED VOCALS?????????? guitar entered. bASS THERE YOU ARE. THE SOOOOOFT SOFT DRUMS so sharp n perfect. YES okay we’re getting more clear slightly rougher but still so stripped back. it’s so intriguing to me how versatile this band is!!! also these lyrics are making me SAD !!!!!!! god my love for this bass in this album cannot be overstated. SHUT UP THEY PICKED IT UP ITS SO GRUNGE POWER BALLAD. SLIGHT DISTORTION ON THE GUITARS SO GRIMY SO BEAUTIFUL. goated lyrics i’m in love.

everlong

ooooooooo. OHHHHH. bass drums guitar absolutely melting together beautifully?? the start is so dark and velvety and it progressively gets a little sharper. druuuuums. gorgeous. and these lyrics might actually kill me im SO SAD. also wowow the whine is so back!! also booold choice of including what sounds like vocalizing with the other instruments and it absolutely worked. this is so truly cathartic i’m gonna go scream sing this to myself at 3am. WHISPERING THROUGH THE RADIO FILTER WITH BASS N GUITAR AND THEN IT ABSOLUTELY BREAKS INTO SOARING INSTEUMENTALS AGAIN. come ON!!!! CHORD TO END IT. ohgh.

walking after you

acoustic guitar strumming beautifully with just the loveliest lyrics. there’s something along with the guitar that’s just a little darker and deeper and it does feel so nice. very grunge very beautiful. cymbals slowly phasing in. yummy. they sneak up and its beautiful!!! these vocals too are so insane to me. so gentle so evocative!!! they truly can do it all. why is my heart breaking at this album i haven’t even gone through a breakup like ?!!?!! sorry again so entranced by these cymbal runs. yum. guitar is nice and jangly at some parts but so soaring and clear too?? god.

new way home

WE ARE BACK EVERYBODY!!! fun lil electric guitar riff with some western jangle in it. love. love how raspy n beautiful the vocals are. this sounds much more alt rock than some of the other ones and that is COOL i love it!!!! fun lil bass lines in my eeaaarrrrssssss. so good. oh???? OH?????? whispering with almost completely stripped back instrumental. gradual crescendo with some light higher strumming of a guitar??? this is SICK???? OH SHIT THEYRE SPEEDING UP!!!! TEMPO CHANGE FOLKS!!!! SCREEEAMMM IT OUT WOOOOO!!!! this is so COOL!!! once again insanely evocative but it feels like acceptance to me which is so fascinating and SUCH A WAY to start closing out the album. OOOOOOOOOO lower pitched guitar just beautifully playing and soaring so clearly above the instrumental. FADE OUT !!! LIFE CHANGED!!!!

the colour and the shape

HIGH DISTORTED NOODLING GUITAR TO LOW. SCREAMING. BASS IS INSANE HERE. GOD WHAT????? this is so SICK??? LET IT OUT BESTIE !!!! GOD drums also insane right now just loud enough to be caught and it’s melding so well with everything. CYMBALS. woooooow!!! SHAPE SHAPE SHAPE SHAPE SHAPE!!!! okay i know i said acceptance but this is FULLY a fit of anger and i LOVE IT!!! ohhhhohoho. feedback from the guitar to fade us out. INSANE. ENERGIZING. BATSHIT. wow.

thoughts: foo fighters truly kings of changing up the tone and brightness of the song. like fully switching from gentle strumming and piano to fully-fledged hard rock. muddy grimy guitars and bass to light and flowing power ballad moments. screaming to falsetto!!! how. wonderful. also they’re just so intriguing and creative with riffs and melodies that it’s so lovely to listen and see where the song goes! this album is truly breakup album ever. WOW. thank you kk for changing my neurochemical structure.