#but i think of this comparison every time i hear these songs

[a-crack-kinda-girl]

this is lacho

[yoyokalicent]

soon you will be mine, oh, but i want you now.

pairing: felix catton x fem!reader

summary: you're felix's favorite girl, you had been since you were young. what happens when you're all he needs?

warnings: cursing, mentions of fucking and alcohol, felix is a freak and in love with his best friend.

a/n: this little fic is based off fallingforyou by the 1975 bc its arguably one of their most heartbreakingly good songs so!! (lyrics in bold)

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i'm so excited for the night all we need's my bike and your enormous house

the strobe lights were almost blinding as you search the large house for felix. felix, who all but got on his knees to beg you to accompany him to the house party you now wander around aimlessly.

"princess!" you barely hear felix over the booming sound of music being pumped through every speaker in the house, "lost you for a minute there, you ok?"

his hand finds yours immediately walking with you toward the sliding glass doors, "just need some air, fi."

"me too, i'll go with you." i'll go anywhere with you, he means.

his hand leaves yours and felix can't help the bout of disappointment he feels in the pit of his stomach, wishing he could hold your hand just a little longer.

felix watches you intently as you open the door with the hand that not long ago was occupied his own, and once the door is open enough for you to exit your hand slots right into his own.

"do you have a cig?" what a stupid question, you see he has a full pack in his back pocket, you don't know is that he wants to share one with you, to see the red smudges of your lipstick around the end of it before he takes a drag of his own.

"f'course." you rake your hands through your black handbag, the handbag he purchased for you while his family was on holiday in paris. once you pull out your worn pack of cigarettes you follow up with your light pink lighter, "hm?"

it was your signal for him to light it for you, he takes the lighter out of your hands and cups a hand around your lips, lighting the cigarette for you. maybe its the drinks, the cups of liquor you had poured for him making his head spin, or maybe it was you, the thought of you being his one day. just one day, but he wants you now.

after your long drag you pass the cigarette to him, blowing out the smoke and looking out toward the backyard where friends were dancing, and lovers were making out in the dark corner by the trees.

"i've always loved nights like this, its so easy." you say, reaching your hand back out for the cigarette.

"me too, fun." he responds, as you flick the ends of the cigarette and watch the ashes fall onto the concrete, "always have fun with you, princess."

the nickname fell from his lips easily, something he had called you since you were a princess on halloween in grade school, never failing to pick on you for it.

"wanna get out of here?" felix asks looking for your confirmation, just wanting to be alone with you, not having to deal with farleigh's knowing glare.

"i do, fi. walk me back?" another stupid question, but this time coming from you, "or am i staying with you?"

"you'll stay with me, princess."

i'm caught on your coat again you said, "oh no, it's fine"

the weather in oxford was completely contradictory to felix's mood. the grey sky with icy winds had no comparison for the light reflecting from his smile. he was sat in some dingy diner (somewhere that only you could get him to step foot into) waiting for the check with you beside him.

he completely rejected your idea of sitting across from him, arguing that, "i haven't seen you in ages, why would i want you to be anywhere but my side?"

your lips were wrapped around the straw of the strawberry milkshake you swore you needed, shamefully felix can't help but think about your lips. the way they break into a smile, the way they sing your favorite songs, the way they'd look wrapped around him.

you're his best friend for goodness sake.

"fi?"

fuck the thinks, "princess."

"do you think we could go to the corner store? i wanted to get those crisps you like. i've been wanting them since the other night." you ask him with hesitation, as if he has ever denied you anything, as if he ever could.

"yep," felix pops his p, mirroring something you had always done, "quite a walk, sure you want to in the cold?"

you take one last sip of your milkshake before responding, "i've got you to keep me warm, don't think that's enough?" he wraps his arm around you to pull you closer to him.

his silence is telling, for as long as you had known him he was never one for comfortable silence. but, with you he could sit for hours without talking, just to be with you.

once the check is payed, by felix, you are bouncing out of your seat, forgetting the jacket that was resting by the end of your back.

"forgetting something?" he holds the jacket up, opening it for your arms to slip into effortlessly.

before your hands have the chance to zip up your jacket his are working at the zipper, toward the middle of the jacket the zipper stops.

"huh?" he says, trying to find where it went wrong.

his mind is racing as he tries to find the flaw in your jacket, when he finds the culprit it almost warms his heart. the fringes of his own jacket were caught in the teeth of your own. a piece of himself was caught in a piece of you.

"sorry bout that, princess."

"oh, no s'fine." without hesitation he zips your jacket all of the way, not wanting to risk you catching a cold. going as far as to giving you his own scarf and putting your hood up for you.

"and what would i do without you?" you ask, hooking your arm in his own and resting your cheek on his bicep as you walk down the street.

"freeze, and possibly have to buy your own food."

feeling of your arms i don't want to be your friend, i want to kiss your neck

felix loved the feeling of your bed. the soft linens your mother had sent from southern italy, the fluffy blankets, firm pillows, the feeling of your arms wrapped around his waist with your head lodged between his shoulder blades.

he loved it, right now, he longed for it.

farleigh was next to him talking to some guy at the pub and all he could think about is what you were doing. felix truly tried his hardest to get you to go with them to the pub, but you swore up and down tonight was your night for rest and relaxation.

stupidly, so stupidly, felix thought he would have more fun at the pub entertaining girls he'd never go home with instead of entertaining you.

"wanna get out of here?" a girl asks, pawing at his chest. all he can do his feign disgust, why would he want to leave with anyone but you?

"no," he responds, and sees the look on her face drop, "thanks" his words are slurred and all he can do is think to count the drinks he's had. the liquor really has affected him, usually he has you mooching off of whatever he has in his cup.

but, not tonight.

"farleigh, i need to go." felix pats farleigh on the shoulder, signaling his leave of absence.

"tell princess i said hi." farleigh responds, mocking his nickname for you, and felix can only open and close his mouth with a nod. felix starts his walk out of the bar with a slight wave to farleigh.

the walk to your dorm was quick, and his legs moved in a brisk walk, quickly starting to border a jog. wanting to get to you, get into your shower, get into your bed as quick as possible.

he dodges groups of partygoers and their judgmental glares skillfully, if they knew what he was running to he's sure they wouldn't be looking at him the way they were.

he arrives at your dormitory and ditches the stuffy elevator that would take too long, he doesn't have time for waiting. his legs move up the stairs, slower this time. almost savoring in the excitement of seeing you.

the many cups have him thinking, what if he told you now? he waits in front of your door, waiting. not knocking, just thinking. thinking about happy he could make you. thinking about what he could do for you, what you could do for him.

just before his mind could catch up with his movements he's knocking on the door. reeling in what he could say to you, and then you open the door.

your hair is in your rollers, and your body is drowning in your light yellow nightgown. ignoring all signs of sleepiness you smile, "felix?"

"i do not want to be your mate." your smile immediately drops, and your eyes open wide, suddenly he wants to jump down the flight of steps he had just climbed.

"what the fuck, felix?"

"no, no, no, princess, not like that." his large hands take your face into them, so tightly that your cheeks are smushed together, not to hurt you, never to hurt you.

"then how felix? you come to me in the middle of night to tell me what?" your words are slurred to the grip he has on his face.

you can smell the whiskey radiating off of him, making this all the more confusing, his hands fall from your face to his sides, "i don't want to be your friend." he takes breath, a deep breath, "i wanna kiss your neck"

"huh?" you ask again, slowly getting at what he means, but needing him to say it. say what you had been thinking for the last year.

"there was a girl at the bar, and she wasn't ugly. at all. she wanted to go home with me-"

you cut him off, "felix."

"sorry. but, i didn't want to go with her, all i thought about was you. coming home to you, maybe even kissing you, hugging you, fucking yo-"

you cut him off again, "felix."

"i just-"

"you what, felix?"

"i really love you. i love you so much i only think of you, i only think about you so much i can't hear a song without thinking about you. i love you so much i've started to lose my mind! i love you so much, princess." his lips smash into yours, and you taste him. the whiskey, the mint lip balm, the cigarettes, you taste him.

you kiss him until his hands start to trail toward the end of your night gown, "can't give the neighbors a free show, fi."

"can't have them seeing what's mine."

your eyebrows raise teasingly, "yours?"

"you're mine princess, finally."

[shaniacsboogara]

jojo siwa claiming she's revitalizing gay pop and releasing 'karma' on the same night as conan gray's 'found heaven' and chappell roan's 'good luck babe' is so poetically ironic. it's like the universe WANTS to draw a comparison between jojo and queer pop artists.

the thing that makes queer pop compelling as a genre is the unique storytelling and experiences of queer artists told through their music. that doesn't necessarily mean every song by a queer artist has to be about their queerness. they don't have to scream "hey i'm gay!" in every single song they write. but claiming to be "reinventing gay pop" should mean you're telling interesting stories about your queer experience, right???

'found heaven' by conan gray is about growing up as a queer kid with religious guilt and disapproving parents. he equates being in love in an authentic way to "finding heaven", and the piece as a whole resonates with a TON of queer people in different stages of their lives. some people can look back at their childhoods and how much they've grown since then, some can relate because they're currently going through what conan's written about, and some people can sympathize with the way some queer people are treated, even if they aren't necessarily queer themselves.

'good luck babe' is a song about queerness and compulsory heterosexuality. chappell sings about a woman she was in a relationship with who decided to settle down in a conventional marriage despite being queer. the song reflects the denial a lot of queer people go through (specifically regarding the lesbian experience) and the unfortunate way a lot of them end up repressing who they are to conform to societal standards. it's fun, it's campy, but its message is still poignant.

as for karma… there's nothing inherently queer about that song. the music video for the original version, ‘karma’s a bitch’ by brit smith, featured a heterosexual storyline. jojo buying the rights to a song she didn't write isn't inherently a bad thing, a lot of mainstream artists do that all the time. however, if you're claiming to be a pioneer of the “gay pop” genre and your music doesn't reflect any queer themes or experiences, is it really “gay pop”? again, queer artists don't have to write exclusively about their queerness, but if you try to present yourself as a voice for the queer community without telling any of their stories, you're not going to be lauded as some revolutionary figure. if any of the songs on jojo’s album are actually about her experience as a lesbian or contain any queer themes, then i think she'd qualify as a “gay pop” artist. but so far, she's given us a faux edgy, generic pop song and tried to market it as some insane never-been-done-before feat. and honestly, if her entire album is like this and she continues to market herself this way, it's a slap in the face to all the genuine artists and storytellers in the queer community.

but let's stop talking about jojo siwa and start talking about the incredible queer artists who are truly breathing life into the "gay pop" genre: chappell roan, renee rapp, ben platt, conan gray, girl in red, kevin atwater, baby queen, mitski, clairo, dodie, and SO MANY MORE (feel free to add on some of your favourites because there are so many wonderful artists out there <3)

also: if you have a different perspective on this situation i would absolutely love to hear what you think and if you agree / disagree with this! i love discussing topics like this so feel free to reblog with your own take

[ma1dita]

trouble always finds me

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.7k 

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. Luke’s perspective on trouble & how they first met! think trouble’s origin story (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

warnings: none, fluff? Mr. D being a clueless dad lol also guys they’re 14 here

a/n: welcome back to the trouble!verse hehe i was inspired by Mr. D being a bit of a jerk to Percy so that the kid doesn’t off himself. Similar concept but with Luke after he first gets to camp— another version for why trouble!reader calls him angelface coming soon

(posted 1/19/24, erm unedited and not beta’d so forgive me in advance)

—

You were always trouble, Luke knew that from the day he met you. 

Walking into Camp Half-Blood, worn out and weary after days of trying to not become harpy food, his arm was slung protectively over Annabeth’s shoulder as they were led onto the campgrounds. So many pity-filled eyes were focused on them after hearing what happened to Thalia, but the camp seemed promising, filled with other demigods who can resonate with what they’ve experienced. Luke thought it was too good to be true, but anything’s better in comparison to the streets they came from. You, however, looked at them in interest from afar, a playful expression on a pretty face watching their every move like him and Annie were shiny new toys to play with.

He was so sure something was off with you. 

Had to be, from the deranged glimmer in your eye that would appear when something bad would happen at Camp. He’d seen it in action a couple of times before you set your sights on him— setting off fireworks during capture the flag, replacing salt with sugar in the kitchens, cutting Mr. D’s hair in his sleep; all of this causing campers and staff alike to run amok and figure out who to penalize. Each time he’d find you enjoying how it all played out, excitement brimming on the cusp of revealing yourself as the culprit as he watched you bite your tongue. But as a mischievous kid himself, he wondered why you hid it. You preferred to orchestrate the show, to make a spectacle for your personal entertainment, and with a smile too soft to be considered guilty, you were a convincing actress. 

The other campers in 11 told him you’d been unclaimed for half a year now, keeping to yourself and making a safe haven within the busy cabin. You were a klutz to say the least, bringing chaos to Camp Half-Blood with a cool disposition, and you hardly seemed interested the one time Luke tried to say hi as he took the bunk next to yours. 

So why the hell wouldn’t you lay off of him?

At first it was small, shoulder bumps and raised eyebrows whenever he piped up in a conversation. That, he could deal with. Luke’s a tough guy, having gone through more than a typical 14-year old would. 

But then it just got annoying.

Glitter in his shampoo, his laundry load dyed purple, and shoelaces knotted together to make him stumble— things meant to be more of an inconvenience rather than an actual problem. Luke wasn’t sure what to make of it, or what to tell you. No one wants to be the new kid creating trouble, but you didn’t seem to have a problem with that.

Maybe you were a Hermes kid like him, but of that, Luke wasn’t so easily convinced—months of living in 11 would mean you’d learn all of the tricks of the trade, so it couldn’t automatically mean that you were related (a part of him also hoped you weren’t be half-siblings, or else the fact he couldn’t stop thinking of you would be slightly awkward). Perhaps a child of Apollo? When you weren’t being difficult, he’s seen you sprinkled in sunlight, usually humming a tune under your breath. Yesterday it was a song from the Sound of Music, and though he only remembers bits of a memory from a movie night with his mom years ago, he put his combat gear on slower just to hear you finish the song. 

Whatever you were, it was bound to be troublesome.

—

At this point in life, Luke hasn’t had many comforts while on the run. To him there’s no such thing as action without reason, without meaning.  Five years of running and not looking back makes this son of Hermes realize that he hasn’t had a chance to take a breath until he got here. It’s hard to let down your guard when you’re always supposed to be keeping watch.

He wriggles under his covers trying to relax himself before bed, purple socks sticking out of the scrappy hand-me-down blanket, and he hears a small giggle from the bed next to his. Luke shifts his weight onto his side, eyes darting to your direction in the quiet of the dark cabin.

“Nice socks.”

He blinks. Were you talking to him? His toes wiggle playfully, prompting more of your melodious laughter as he chews at his lip before he responds.

“Guess I’m getting used to them.”

“You’re getting used to a lot of things around here. That’s good,” you whisper, and thinks he can see you concocting something sinister in that brain of yours—he’s on the edge of the mattress hanging onto your every word as he realizes this is the most you’ve spoken to him.

“You did this. Why?” he says, more of a statement than a question. Why would you go out of your way for someone like him?

“Are you mad about it? Luke, right?” you mutter, a calm expression on your face shrouded in moonlight, and for a second he wonders if you actually don’t know his name until he notices the upwards quirk of your lip. 

Luke catches himself then, and the realization hits him like a blow to the chest— he’s not angry at all. If anything, he hasn’t had the time to feel anything negative with the antics you’ve been pulling. You’ve proven to be quite the distraction to his circumstances, and he can’t remember the last time he’s thought about Thalia or his mom since he got here. The melancholy falls on his countenance like a better-fitting blanket than the one he has on, and your words pull him from his thoughts before they can suffocate him again.

“Sorry about your sister. I lost someone right before I got here too. My mom.” 

This, he can tell, is not acting. Your eyes flicker to a polaroid strapped in the space underneath the top bunk above your head, two blurry figures huddled together in a memory.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what to say. In the silence that follows, he swallows audibly. Everyone’s been worried about Annabeth, including himself that he hadn’t even thought of his own emotions being on display for everyone to see. Luke never thought you of all people would notice.

You shrug, “S’not your fault. I know when people are acting though. If you know I’m the one who’s been starting shit, why haven’t you told anyone?”

Luke almost laughs at that, a rough exhale leaving his lungs as he watches your hands clutch your quilt.

“It’s pretty entertaining, I guess. You’re annoying, but I don’t mind it. Kept my mind off of things.”

He watches you smile in the shadows now, and it shines—all lips, teeth, and sheer mirth that makes his chest feel a little lighter. A real smile from you, one that doesn’t hide your true intentions.

“I’m glad. Mine too.” 

The next thing you do confuses him further, but from what he’s gathered you’re always full of surprises. You chuck your quilt across the space between your bunks, and the end of it smacks him in the face as he grunts.

“Here. Keep it,” you chuckle a bit loudly, the both of you hearing a Shhhhh… from somewhere in the dark cabin.

“What… Why? Are we friends now?” Luke mumbles jokingly, inhaling the soft scent of berries and fresh linen. His purple laundry load smelled like this too.

“No.”

“Then why are you giving me your stuff?” he says, but still curls up underneath the handmade quilt stitched from memories of a past life, of motherly love and gentle hands. He doesn’t have anything like this, so he settles into this feeling of comfort instead, even if it wasn’t his memory to hold. You go quiet at the sight of him, eyes fluttering and chin tucked into the pink and purple fabric, and he looks as soft as a normal 14 year old boy should.

“It’s getting boring in here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think,” you mumble, turning away and shutting your eyes before he can say anything else.

—

The next day, you get caught putting a month’s supply of bubble bath into the lake, but Luke’s convinced you did it on purpose. All of camp is standing on the shore, watching you wave at them from a river tube as Chiron and Mr. D yell at you in exasperation—finally revealing yourself as the troublemaker they’ve been searching for.

“Get on the beach this instant, young lady! You have no idea how much trouble you’ve put us through!” Mr. D’s voice echoes across the lake, his immortal form almost filtering through his frustration before you laugh in his face, unthreatened by the Olympian.

“Good thing I get it from you. Hello, dad!”

Jaws drop as everyone turns to look at Mr. D, the realization hitting his face as he points at you, his brain moving a mile a minute. Though you resemble your mother, your actions are all him. You revel in the grand reaction, looking up to see a purple thyrsus surrounded by grape leaves float over your head.

“Nice outfit, kid. I don’t think purple is your color. She do that to you too?” Mr. D notes Luke’s wine colored cargos and socks clashing against the harsh orange of his shirt as he pushes past him, scratching his head at the idea of another kid. Poor guy said two was the limit in a lifetime and he gets a grinning teenage girl who dares him to do something about it. He hasn’t raised a lot of girls….

“I don’t know. I guess trouble always seems to find me,” Luke laughs lightly, watching kids of all ages jump into the bubbly lake water happily. The glowing ember of his eyes are relaxed for the first time in a while— an inviting flame catching your own as you stare at him from across the sudsy water. Trouble, he thinks, a smile settling onto his face—how fitting.

He’s spent a lot of time running. But perhaps this time, he’s finding reasons to want to stay.

—

"After all, we are nothing more or less than what we choose to reveal." - Sylvia Plath

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[bleedingoptimism]

You Are Mine part 3

Second day is an early call too. They are going to shoot a bunch of scenes of them hanging out between shows, loitering on the bus, playing d&d, and going to weird little dinners, all things they actually do when on tour.

It’s even better than the day before, Robin and Steve get along so well with the band it feels like they’ve been friends for years.

Since their conversation won't be distinguishable in the video, Argyle tells them they can talk about whatever and just be a little more emphatic when talking so it reads better on camera.

A direction that apparently they don't need at all because they are both so expressive. And so, they actually get to chat and get to know each other better, laughing and joking all through the day.

Robin, who is a ‘raging lesbian’ (her words) is fucking adorable and bizarre, her energy is contagious and nerve-racking. She’s finishing a career in linguistics, can speak fluently in like six languages, and is apparently a certified genius.

She’s also head over heels obsessed with her girlfriend, and won’t stop talking about her. Vicky is a nurse student, one of Steve’s classmates actually.

‘Steve is a fucking nurse student, why is that hot? Why does he find that so hot? Jesus’.

Steve is much quieter than Robin, especially in comparison. But he’s just, or even funnier. Eddie can see how observant he is, listening attentively and waiting for his moment, because he’s mostly quiet but when he speaks he always says the perfect thing.

It’s like every time he talks Eddie can see him dropping an imaginary mike on the floor. It’s fascinating honestly.

He is incredibly sweet too. Eddie can tell, by how his eyes light up when they are placed in a scene meant to look like they are playing Dungeons and Dragons and he goes on a tangent about the kids he used to babysit when he was younger, that they like to play too, how they drove him insane and how he never lost touch with them after they grew up, how they are all seniors in high school now, how proud he is of them. It’s so fucking cute.

They get a good laugh imagining the kids' reactions to seeing them in the video, Steve laughing so hard he cries when Robin starts imitating the expression of one of them finding out Steve made out with his favorite singer.

And they haven’t even talked about or planned that scene yet, it’s meant to be shot tomorrow, but when he hears them talking about it, it fills Eddie up with antici…pation. He’s dying to kiss Steve and he can’t stop thinking about it.

♫

After the lunch break, they shoot a bunch of scenarios of Eddie sneaking into various places, the bus, a bathroom, a changing room, and so on. Since Robin and Steve are practically the same height is easy to cheat the camera into only showing the back of the shirt that says ‘crew’ making it impossible to know which one of them he’s hooking up with until the end of the video.

He has a lot of fun pushing Steve into different corners of the set, and Steve does too judging from all his cute little laughs between scenes. 

Argyle calls it a day late afternoon, he’s happy and excited, says he has a really good feeling about this,

“Not many scenes left to shoot, mostly you two,” he said pointing at Steve and him, “So we can start mid-morning tomorrow. Get some rest my dudes, love you” and dismisses them.

Eddie gets distracted talking with Argyle so when he gets back to the changing room there’s no one there, except… Steve.

He’s meticulously fixing his hair in the mirror and he’s humming the video’s song. Of course he is, Eddie thinks amused, he’s heard it so many times by now. He leans on the doorway watching Steve’s reflection, waiting for him to notice Eddie, but Steve doesn’t see him right away, and thinking he’s alone, he starts singing.

I don’t want to hide anymore,

I want the whole world to know,

That you are mine,

Are you mine, please be mine, you are mine.

It’s his song, but it sounds nothing like it. The chorus of You Are Mine is loud, angry, desperate but what Steve is singing sounds so soft, so beautiful. It sounds like one of those slow acoustic covers that usually play in coffee stores and it’s funny, Eddie despises those kinds of covers, but Steve’s? 

Steve’s he could listen to all the goddam time.

He’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn't notice when Steve finally sees him, he only looks up when the singing stops.

Steve is smiling at him bashfully through the reflection in the mirror, blushing prettily. 

Smiling back he tells Steve, “I’m surprised you are not sick of it yet,”

He pushes himself off the doorframe and walks inside, hovering over Steve since he’s sitting on the only makeup chair.

Steve shrugs as he stands up and leaves the chair to Eddie, going around the room to grab his things. Eddie can’t help but feel a little disappointed, he kind of wanted Steve to keep him company, but to his surprise, Steve doesn't leave immediately, and it’s his turn to hover slightly close.

“It’s a really catchy song,” Steve says and Eddie snorts because, no, it’s not. But he just smiles again and says,

“Well, thank you.”

“You wrote it?” Steve asks tilting his head to the side and it’s fucking unfair how cute he looks when he does it.

Eddie just nods, because speaking hard when cute boy near. Man he usually has so much more game, what is it about Steve that just makes him feel so giddy?

“It must be about someone very special,” Steve says and there’s a question hidden somewhere in there.

And Eddie wants to tell him ‘I wrote it for you’ because it feels like he did. He wrote the song thinking about a concept, an ideal, someone he would truly want, and he genuinely feels he was conjuring up Steve in his mind. Even before he met him.

But instead, he shakes his head and says, “It’s hypothetical, there- there’s no one.”

And Steve smiles at him, his smile getting bigger slowly and his cheeks redder as he looks down for a second before staring at Eddie through his lashes, “Good” he says in an almost whisper and then leaves the room.

And Eddie thinks maybe all the songs in their next album will be about Steve.

to be continued

part 1: ♫

part 2: ♫

part 3: is this

part 4: ♫ 

☕ cafecito?

[strawhbrrries]

Cowgirl

pairing: dbf!southern!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: a trip to the store with your dad’s best friend ends in a lack of a swimsuit and the feeling of his beard scratching you forever engraved in your mind.

warnings: age gap (reader is 22, frank is 52), use of pet names, dirty dirty thoughts!!!, mention of a divorced dad?, fingering, no real sex, bearded frank <3, no mentions of y/n, no descriptions of reader, not proofread

word count: 2711 words

author’s note: the line “ride cowgirl” in pyramid by frank ocean inspired this whole fic, which i kinda wanna make into multiple fics?? a story if you will?? anyway, i think this is a huge step up from my last writing piece so please enjoy :)

read the sequel ride, cowgirl !

“I'm telling you to loosen up my buttons, babe.” You sang along to the song blaring from your dad’s speaker, you hijacked it when he went inside to get more beer for him and his friends, swinging your hips and slowly spinning in a circle. Your music was way better than his divorced dad rock music, which you secretly enjoyed, and if you were going to enjoy the get together he was throwing you were absolutely going to play your own music. 

“But you keep fronting.” Tiffany, your long time best friend, sang back into the imaginary microphone in her hand as she pranced around you in a circle. The two of you putting on a performance to the imaginary crowd in your backyard, or so you thought. Twenty feet away, sitting in perfect position across the fire to watch you swing your hips around, was your dad’s best friend Frank.

Frank was only half listening to the conversation between the men around him, he was more focused on the way you danced and how it was making him rethink every decision he ever made and was about to make, his knuckles going white from the grip he had on the bottle in his hand. Sure, he’d always known you were a gorgeous girl but something about tonight was different. The fire barely illuminating your skin softly had him wanting to slide behind you as your hips moved in time with the song, his lips dragging across the skin of your neck before moving to your ear where he whispered promises of what he’d do to you later. He took a sip of the lukewarm beer, watching you for a second more before turning back to whatever bullshit conversation that was going on. It paled in comparison to you. Currently, everything did. 

The summers in Texas were your favorite, the air was never too humid and warmed you up when the wind came through at night, the lightning bugs never failed to show up every night and lit up the trees if you paid enough attention. Truthfully you were biased, but the thing that made them truly the best was having no true responsibilities again and you would always enjoy that, especially when your beloved dad bought your alcohol for three months. One of your favorite perks was the swimming pool, you were either swimming with a few of your friends or tanning on the side but you were almost always found by it. The swimsuits you typically donned weren’t the slightest bit modest, and now wasn’t any different. You were barely covered in a green bikini, the top consisting of two triangles and a string, and the bottoms high cut and covered with a mesh skirt. 

“Castle, how’s work been man? Ain’t heard much bout it ‘n normally ya don’t shut up bout it.” Goddamnit is all Frank thought as your dad dragged him back into the conversation, ruining the imagery in his head. If looks could kill, the one he shot your dad would’ve murdered him beyond recognition. “‘s alright, busy. Always picks up in the summertime. Ready to have some more downtime, spend it with family.” More like with your daughter. 

“I hear ya. Promise ol’ girl over there we’d do some family shit this summer, if business keeps the way it is I ain’t too sure how well I can keep that promise.” Your dad responded, pointing you out to the guys as if Frank hadn’t been oogling you all night. You and Tiff had stopped dancing to the music and instead opted to sitting with your legs in the pool, gossiping about town drama and Tiff’s newest boy of the week. 

“Understandable, if ya’ll need anything just holler at me.” Frank responded, ready for the conversation to be done, ready to continue watching you like a creep from afar. He’d be a creep if it meant staring at you all night, he’d be a creep if it meant a chance to feel your hair wrapped around his hand while he-

“Dad, Tiff and I are going to get snacks from the gas station!” You called out happily, ripping Frank out of his delusion with the angelic smile of yours, walking over to the group of men surrounding the fire. 

“C’mere, I’ll give you my card so you can get some more drinks.” You happily grabbed the card from your dad, bending over to give him a small hug. Frank was no better than the next man, he scratched at his scruff as he admired the way the green of your bikini complimented the tan skin threatening to spill from the lack of support. 

“Frank, can you drive us? It’s dark and neither of us wanna drive.” It was like the perfect opportunity fell right into his lap and he’d be damned if he wasn’t taking it. The smile you were flashing him made him want to get down on his knees and beg, a god he wasn’t sure existed for, forgiveness for what he was about to do. 

“Course darlin’, let me get my wallet.” He looked at your dad who seemed to have no qualms about the situation before getting out of the chair, placing his mostly empty bottle of now warm beer on the ground and following you into the house. 

“I’m gonna go put a shirt on, give me a second.” Up until tonight, much like Frank with you, you hadn’t noticed how attractive he was. Older men had always excited you but this was different. Frank was big, strong, rough around the edges but had that southern hospitality you loved. You couldn’t help but think about how his scruff would feel rubbing against your skin, would it leave redness in its wake? would it help spur your orgasm as he fucked you with his fingers? 

You picked up some oversized t shirt that probably once belonged to your dad and put it on, shaking your head as if it would get rid of the thoughts. 

“Hey, I’m gonna head out. Horrible timing I know! But y’know, boy of the week is calling.” Tiff spoke, her expression clearly apologetic, giving you a hug and promising to make plans for later this week before grabbing her things and leaving.

“So for taking so long, got caught up in my thoughts.” Of you. You smiled softly, suddenly aware of how the sun had brought out freckles you didn’t know he had and how muscular he truly was.

“‘S alright, lets get goin’ ‘for your dad starts wonderin’.” He matched your smile, placing his hand on the small of your back as the two of you walked out of the house and to his truck. You were painfully aware of how big his hands felt, triggering your mind to think about his fingers. You rubbed your thighs together to relieve some of the tension aching at your core, it felt so taboo to lust after a man your dad’s age. Not just his age! His own best friend! 

The trip to the gas station was uneventful, unfortunately, the two of you exchanged conversation like the tension wasn’t thick enough to cut. Like Frank’s jeans were getting uncomfortably tight and your bikini bottoms uncomfortably wet. Like neither of you wanted to jump the bones of the other person.

“Hey, Frank?” You asked softly, trying to gain the courage to ask the question you wanted the answer to.

“Darlin’?” He put the car in park, looking over at you expecting you to call him every disgusting name under the sun for his thoughts about you tonight.

“Do you, uhm…”

“I’m not a mind reader, baby.” At first you thought you imagined the word, that he didn’t actually say it but it was your imagination fueling the growing fire you had for Frank Castle. But he did say it, and he did it on purpose. Testing the waters, seeing how far he could go without making you uncomfortable. 

“Have you ever been with someone younger?” Not the fucking question, idiot. You scolded yourself, you didn’t want to know the answer to this. What if his answer was yes and you were imagining his interest in you, that you weren’t special. 

“No, I uh haven’t. Not yet, anyway.” There he went again, saying things that made you think you were imagining it. Maybe you’d wake up any minute and none of it was real. He could see the wheels turning in your head, you were a smart girl and he knew that. 

You, timidly, leaned over the console of his truck and experimentally ran your fingers through his scruff. You’d never been with a man, much less a man with a beard, you’d only been with what your father classified as boys. Frank leaned into your touch, placing his hand on top of yours and dragging it to his lips. Placing kisses on your palm, keeping eye contact with you. You were having trouble breathing, he was going to kill you. The beautiful hunk of a man was going to be the cause of your death, you’d make sure Tiff had it written on your tombstone. “Death by Frank Castle.”

Frank let your hand drop into your lap, threading his own hand through your hair to grab the back of your head and pull you closer to him. He leaned forward to meet you halfway, eyes scanning your face just taking in your beauty. His lips were made to fit yours, you were convinced, moving in motion with yours. His beard scratching your skin deliciously, his fingers wrapping themselves in your hair, his scent. He was everywhere, he consumed you. 

“Need you, Frank please.” You breathed, pleading with him. “Need you so bad, need to feel you, your fingers.” You carried on, your voice sounding like you were on the verge of tears. 

“Baby, not here.” He spoke softly, committing the way you sounded to memory for him to reference later when he was alone, “I’ll get you off though. Make you cum, all over my seat.” 

His words eliciting a whimper, you’d take anything he was willing to give you. It didn’t matter that anyone could see into his truck at any moment, made the situation so much more intense. He tapped your thigh, signaling he wanted you to open your legs. 

Frank let his fingers dance over the exposed skin your lack of pants left, dragging them up your thighs slowly. Painfully slow. He left open mouth kisses down your neck, occasionally biting and soothing the bite with his tongue. What felt like a decade later his middle finger traced your clothed folds, chuckling into your neck at how wet you were. You bucked your hips at the stimulation, earning another chuckle from the man in the driver’s seat, you were dying to receive some more stimulation from him. At this point, you’d sell a kidney and probably your soul to just have a singular finger inside you. You’d probably sell his soul too.

He dipped a finger underneath your swimsuit, groaning at how wet you truly were and that he was the cause of it all. His dreams were, partially, coming true and he needed to thank the heavens and the stars. Your moans and whimpers were music to Frank’s ears and he’d do anything and everything to keep them coming, to keep those angelic noises from leaving your pretty mouth. The truck was silent except for your noises and the squelch of Frank playing with your pussy.

“‘S wet, pretty girl. All for me? Did I do this to you, baby?” He taunted you, sliding his finger through your folds and swirling your clit as he waited for an answer.

“All for you, promise.” You whined, leaning your head against him, sweat beading on your skin as the car started to heat up from the summer air and the actions being performed. 

Your pleas were answered when he finally plunged a finger inside of you, pulling it all the way out and admiring how it glistened in the light provided by the street light in the corner of a parking lot. He did this a few times, thrusting his finger in and pulling it all the way back out before plunging it back inside of you. His lips found your neck again, moving your head back to the original position it was in, kissing every spot of open skin he could reach. As if he read your mind, he inserted another finger alongside the one already inside. The stretch burned in a way that made you feel alive, made you feel on top of the world. All because Frank’s fingers were inside you. God, his fingers were big. So big it made you think about how right your dad had been to call everyone else a boy and not a man. So big all you could do was think about how big his cock must be, if his jeans were any indication you were in for a real treat. Not here though, stupid stupid gas station stupid truck. Your thoughts soon turned to mush.

His fingers curled right against the spongy spot inside of you, hitting it over and over again, he readjusted his hand to put his thumb on your clit.

“C’mon pretty girl, let go for me.” He spoke low, trailing kisses back up your neck and nipping at your earlobe. 

You could feel the warmth growing in your stomach, the knots forming into bigger knots and then even bigger knots. Could feel the heat spreading throughout your body, your orgasm so close you could taste it. It was right there, his fingers hitting all the right spots and his thumb working wonders on your clit, his scruff scratching your skin and his mouth kissing everywhere. He was suffocating you in all the best ways possible. All you could see, hear, smell and taste was Frank fucking Castle.

Stars. Your vision turned to stars as your orgasm washed over you, your body shaking in the passenger seat as he fucked you with his fingers. Those damn fingers. You couldn’t see anything but stars, for all you knew you had gone to heaven and it was thanks to the magical orgasm given to you at the hands of your new god. 

When you came down from your high, Frank was whispering how well you had done and how pretty you were. He was caressing your thigh and placing kisses to your head. 

“Did so good, gonna get me addicted.” He reached behind your seat and handed you a water bottle, opening it and holding the lid so you could drink it.

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him, that killer smile that got him here in the first place. He truly was going to get addicted to you and he had no complaints about it, could die a happy man tonight if fingering you in his passenger seat is all he gets to do to you. His phone ringing in his pocket brought him back to the situation at hand.

Shit. Both of you thought, remembering what you were supposed to be doing and how it was now an entire forty-five minutes later.

“Hey, ah yeah we’re good. Small fender bender, yeah….to make it all worse the gas station was closed when we got here.” Frank spoke to your dad on the phone, coming up with a lie like his life depended on it and he hadn’t just fingered you to the edge of your life. “Should be back soon, don’t worry man. I’m keepin’ her safe, precious cargo.”

You chuckled softly at his sentence, relaxing completely in the seat and taking a few sips of water, thinking about the future of your relationship with him. Or whatever it was, you made out and he had his fingers inside you but that didn’t mean shit. What if he regretted it and now didn’t want anything to do with you, what if he was too worried about his friendship with your dad?

“Quit thinkin’ too much. We’ll figure out whatever this is, all I know for sure is I need to see you again. And you to ride me, like a fuckin’ cowgirl. Ya hear?”

[thatfreshi]

Can you make an Angsty Astarion x mortal!reader fic where Astarion realizes that one day the reader will pass and he’ll be alone again🙏🙏🙏 I need more Angst of this man😭

TW - Talk of death, graveyards

Recommended Song: Halley's Comet - Billie Eilish

Astarion often visits graveyards. It's some form of therapy, a place where he can let it all out, a place where he can mourn what he never had, what he doesn't remember. You don't usually go with him, deciding it's best to give him something just for him. Occasionally he'll ask you to come with him, if it's been a particularly rough time or if it's a special day. At the very least he goes once a month, and it's never a question of where he's going, you just know. You worry about him sometimes, being alone in some graveyard. You are all each other have, all you cherish, all you love. It's not often you're apart, but it's not all that difficult to stick to someone like sap when you can't be in the sun.

It's the anniversary of the death of some family member he doesn't remember, who died centuries ago, but some part of him feels as though he should at least go. Not like anyone else goes to see his family anymore. You're in the living room, setting up the fireplace for when you return. Astarion comes downstairs, and you hear his shoes tap each step. You turn to find him in all black, you are as well.

"Are you ready to go?"

You ask, grabbing your trusty knife off the table by the front door, sheathing it under your jacket. It's been quite cold as of recent.

"Mhm."

He doesn't say much. He doesn't have to say much.

"Then let's go."

You smile warmly and wrap yourself around his arm. The graveyard you're visiting isn't too far from the house. It's where most of the Ancuníns were laid to rest, including Astarion's 'grave.' When you arrive, he knows right where to go, and you simply follow along. A while back he memorized all of these people, their death dates, who they were, trying to remember anything he could from a life he lost long ago. The two of you sit in front of an ornate grave, a second cousin of his, or something of the like. You feel guilty that you don't remember like he does.

"I appreciate you."

He'd been silent the entire walk here.

"You always come with me when I ask. I know it may not make sense, I just feel as though it's right, to at least try."

"Of course my love. Whatever you need."

You rest your head on his shoulder and read the inscription on the tombstone. Apparently this man got a terrible illness, died sometime in his 20s, extremely young for an elf. You wonder how much Astarion remembers, if he knew this man at all. You never pry though. He always shares when he's ready. Suddenly, he squeezes your hand.

"I'll miss you. I don't miss these people, but I'll miss you."

"That's hardly a fair comparison. You barely remember them."

"I'll remember you forever. Even if I were enslaved for two hundred more years after this, I couldn't ever forget you."

He kisses the top of your head, lingering for a moment to take in your scent, the feeling of your hair, every little thing he'll remember when you're gone.

"The truth is darling, I don't think I'll ever love again, once you're gone."

He begins to cry. You hadn't thought about him with future lovers, lying with another soul.

"That's not fair though."

"What makes you say that?"

"You deserve to love after me. You deserve to be loved after me."

He sadly chuckles to himself.

"As if anyone could ever compare. You're the sun, and I the moon. Without you, no light would ever reflect off me again. A dark husk of a man, that's what I will be when you're gone."

He sounds so sure of himself, as if beyond you there is nothing. Then again, you've made this entire life together. Who else would fall in love with a vampire spawn with no master, a monster who's never going to be quite right? You're not sure what to say.

"To be honest, I don't think I could fall in love with someone else, even if I tried my damnest. You've made me feel safe in a way that is so foreign, fabricated just for me. You can't replicate that. You can't find someone so willing to be this patient, this kind, to not only love me for my body."

"You have so much more to love though."

"I don't think anyone would see it the way you do my sweet."

You shift to turn and look at Astarion, taking his hands in yours.

"You know what I love most about you?"

He softly smiles.

"What?"

"That you can change. It's something many people forget to do, to change and evolve, to find more in life than their misery. You've changed, for the better. Very few can do that the way you have."

"It's you who changed me."

Sometimes it frustrates you, how little credit he gives himself. Then again, it's much better than it used to be.

"Just promise me something? Once I'm gone, find another way to be happy. Find something that makes your heart flutter, that causes those precious creases when you smile. Find something else, if not for yourself, for me."

He nestles into your neck, giving you a soft kiss.

"I promise to try my love, that's all I can do."

His eyes are still misty, the tears get onto your neck. You try hard not to cry yourself, but it's hard when your heart is breaking outside of your body. You pray in that moment, although you're not sure to what god or power, but you pray that he'll be okay when you die, that it's a long time away from someone driving a stake through his ribs, that he finds joy in the small things like he does now. After all, hope is all you have when the afterlife comes to get you so soon.

"I hope I get to watch over you, wherever I end up."

"Like some kind of angel or something?"

"I guess. Like your guardian."

"Do you think I'll know?"

"Yes, I think you'll know. Maybe I'll take on the body of stray cats, follow you on the streets, lead you down paths with less heartache."

"I'd like that, very much."

~~~

Decades later, Astarion gets ready to leave the house, your knife on the table. When he steps out onto the cobblestone streets, there's a pure white cat standing a couple feet away. It meows, almost melodically, and turns to a nearby alleyway. He walks to where the animal was standing, and turns to look into the alleyway, but there is no sight of the stray. He smiles.

"Thank you, my love."

[wren-kitchens]

guess who forgot they can post writing on tumblr againnn anyway this was bribery so stiff would watch rtc HKFHD

(this is part of the sniflins au! idk if it’s canon or not but it takes place in that world! the sniflins is an au by myself, @angeart @loveroped and @stiffyck !)

jimmy can feel scar smiling against his neck, nuzzling closer every so often, and his stomach fills with butterflies. his chest is filled with a fuzzy glow—a wonderful mix of both his own and scar’s happiness. he can no longer tell what emotion belongs to who, and it’s wonderful. under the lazy warmth of the afternoon sun, it’s as if there’s no one else in the world aside from them, and jimmy couldn’t be happier.

that idea is very abruptly disputed, as joel snores loudly from across the picnic blanket. jimmy stifles a laugh, and he can hear scar giggling quietly in his ear (which, for the record, might just be the best sound ever). 

both grian and joel fell asleep a good ten minutes ago—grian almost fell face first into a cupcake, and joel dozed off midway through insisting that he was not going to fall asleep at all. scar and he have since concluded that it was the sniffer traits that made them so sleepy in comparison to them, and that they will never let either of them live this down.

“ruins the moment a bit, doesn’t it?” jimmy jokes quietly, if only to hear scar’s laugh again.

scar hums, the sound vibrating against jimmy’s skin. “well, I don’t know. doesn’t make you any less beautiful.” 

jimmy feels his face burn in a way that is entirely unrelated to the sun. “oh my gosh.” he buries his head in his hands.

scar is laughing again, sitting up with the sole intention of making jimmy even more flustered, it seems. “oh, but you are! look at you!”

“I will hit you.” jimmy says, muffled through his palms.

“I don’t believe you.” scar teases, sing-song. “you love me too much.”

“I absolutely don’t.” jimmy says. even to his own ears, it sounds laughably false. but right now, he’s proving a point, so.. shut up.

scar presses a kiss to jimmy’s neck, and jimmy feels his face grow impossibly warmer. “oh yeah? now, unless our soulbound broke in the last few seconds, i’m fairly certain you do, sweetheart.”

and- whilst jimmy may not usually be the most forward person in the world, desperate times call for desperate measures. the desperate times in question being his immense flusteredness, and the desperate measures- well..

jimmy takes his hands away from his face, shifts to face scar, grabs his collar and pulls him into a kiss. scar is surprised initially, but melts into it almost immediately—that wonderful glow growing in jimmy’s chest.

and- wow. jimmy somehow manages to forget just how happy scar makes him—not that he’s complaining; it’s something of a fantastic surprise every time he remembers again. like right now, for instance. because scar’s hands are at jimmy’s waist and cupping his cheek, and he’s leaning ever further into the kiss, and jimmy can feel the thin scar that runs through scar’s bottom lips and it’s bliss.

they pull away to catch their breath, giggling breathlessly all the while, and jimmy takes the opportunity for payback. he peppers scar’s face in kisses, delighting as he laughs, and occasionally giving scar’s lips a teasing peck.

“point- point proven!” scar is saying, despite the fact that jimmy has considered stopping at least twice and each time scar whined until he kissed him again.

“mm, no, I don’t think it has.” jimmy grins. “I think I might have to kiss you forever, actually.”

“I mean-“ scar says, and jimmy cackles at the abrupt shift in his tone. “I wouldn’t object, per say-“

“you’re an idiot.” jimmy says, fond as anything. god, he loves this man so much.

scar beams, as if he knows exactly what jimmy is thinking. “I know.”

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Pfft why can imagine the reader singing peaches to her crush 🤣😂🤣

Lucky: 🎶🎹🍑

The crush:🧍😳🧍‍♀️

Stawhats: 😳😱😭😡🤭

I don't know if you meant for this to be a request, but I was inspired. Absolutely none of this is canon to Lucky Break, this is straight up crack.

Can't Take You Anywhere

Yandere Straw Hats x reader x Smoker

1.9k words

warning for alcohol consumption

"This is all your fault, you stupid love cook," Zoro seethed from across the table. 

"My fault? How is this my fault? Do you think I put her up to this???"”

“You did!” Nami butted into the argument, “Why the hell did you tell her to ‘follow her heart’ when she admitted to crushing on someone?!”

“I didn’t think she was referring to him!” Sanji gestured helplessly to what was disappointingly, the man of your affection. 

“She looks like you with all the dopey faces she makes every time she sees him! Who else did you think it was?!” Zoro slammed his fist onto the table, not having any of Sanji’s attempts to shrug off the blame here.

Sanji’s face dropped and he sniffled loudly, “... Me.” With that he dissolved into a puddle of tears on the table they were all seated around. Well, all but one of them. 

You were seated at the piano in the center of the restaurant, which you had commandeered by shoving the actual pianist off the bench and threatening to kick his ass if he interrupted you. To say that you had possibly had a little too much to drink tonight would be an understatement, but none of them thought to cut you off, and now they’re all going to suffer for it. 

Not one of them could have guessed Captain Smoker was going to make an appearance, and absolutely not a soul in this restaurant would have been able to guess what you were going to do about it. 

“I think we all share some blame here for not stopping her the second she stood up,” Robin’s face was in her hands, too ashamed to even look at what was happening. “Especially after she said ‘this one’s for my one and only true love: Captain Smoker’.”

Now it was too late. Now you were drunkenly belting out a love ballad to a fucking marine in the middle of a crowded restaurant and none of them were willing to go up there and stop you. Everyone was too embarrassed to go and associate with you when you were acting like this. Except Luffy who was happily taking advantage of your now unattended plate.

Their discomfort was nothing though, not in comparison to the absolute mortification on Smoker’s face right now. All he could do was stand there in abject horror as one of the pirates he’s been chasing for months loudly, and publicly, professed her love for him. His cigars had fallen to the floor after he had bitten clean through them. You were slamming away on the piano, not particularly well, and chanting Smoker’s name like it was a damn prayer. 

“If it weren’t for the fact that all of you are still seated, I would think this is the most genius idea for a distraction ever conceived. I’ve never seen Smoker stopped dead in his tracks like this,” Tashigi was standing next to their table, a mix of second-hand embarrassment and pity on her face.

Zoro glanced at her, not even caring that she snuck up on them, “You’re not gonna help your captain?”

Tashigi looked on at the drunken confession wearily. She doesn’t get paid enough to run interference on whatever the hell was going on over there. She cleared her throat and shook her head, “No, Smoker prefers to fight his own battles.” It was a lame excuse, but no one called her on it. None of them had any room to talk right now.

Just as she said that, they could hear you take a deep breath and scream out more of this weird song you came up with, “Captain Smoker, at the end of the line, I’ll make you mine!”

Finally, mercifully, Smoker snapped out of his stupor and launched himself forward. One arm wrapped around your middle and the other hand clamped over your mouth, thankfully silencing you. As he pulled you off the bench, his head darted around, desperately searching for the rest of your crew.

Tashigi waved him down, appearing to take mercy on her horrified captain. He marched his way over there, doing his damnedest to ignore the stares and whispers directed towards him. It didn’t help that you were wiggling around like a fish, not a care in the world for the scene you just created.

Smoker got to the table and unceremoniously dropped you into your empty chair. The second his hands were off you, yours were on him. You spun around and threw your arms around him, nuzzling your face into his exposed chest. Despite all the alcohol in your system, you were somehow strong enough to resist being immediately pushed off of him.

“Smokey~! Did you like my song? I sang it just for you!” You looked up at him, a love struck smile plastered over your face.

Gags resounded around the table at the cheesy nickname, and Smoker couldn’t help but grimace, “Do not ever call me that again.”

All that got him was some giggles, “Oh my god, you’re so funny! C’mon Smokey, we both know you love it! I mean look at you, your face is all red!” Not only was his face flushed, even his neck and ears were turning red. Smoker cursed over how pale he was.

Nami, who was seated next to you, was trying to pull you off of the marine, ”Lucky I am begging you to stop talking.” And singing. She would forget about your debt to her if you promised to never sing again.

You swatted at her while your other arm still clung onto Smoker, “Nuh-uh, you can’t tell me what to do! You’re just jealous that I found my one true love before you did!” Obviously the only reason anyone would disapprove of your current behavior was because they wanted what you had. What you and Smoker have, you should say.

Smoker took advantage of your loosened grip to rip you off of him, taking several steps back for good measure. The look you gave him was devastating, tears immediately welling in your eyes, “Smoker? Where are you going? Did you not like it?” Oh god, you were even starting to choke up.

As much as no one wanted you to be with this marine, they didn’t want you sobbing in the middle of the restaurant because of him either. Smoker was now getting dirty looks from not only the Straw Hats, but also the patrons in this establishment who no doubt thought they were witnessing some sort of lovers quarrel. He ran a gloved hand down his face, hating every second of this.

“Lucky, you’re very drunk. You need to eat something and sober up,” he tried to gently turn you around, but this didn’t work as you managed to weasel your way past his arms and clung onto his waist like it was a lifeline.

Sniffling pitifully, you asked again if he didn’t like your song, “Did you hate it? D-Do you hate me?”

Smoker looked at Tashigi for help, but she was refusing to make eye contact. He risked looking back at you, only to see actual tears starting to drip down your face. His heart panged at the sight and he internally cursed himself for what he was about to say.

“It was… fine. I don’t hate you, please stop crying,” he awkwardly patted your shoulder, hoping that would be enough to calm you down. 

“Really?” You immediately brightened up, much to his relief, “I knew it, I knew you would! I have more songs I can sing!” Relief promptly turned to horror as you attempted to get up and return to the piano.

Smoker forced you back down, swiped a bread basket off a tray from a passing by waiter, and shoved the whole thing into your hands. “No, Lucky, no more singing. Please just eat something,” he was practically begging at this point, wanting literally anything to help and absorb the alcohol.

You openly pouted, but did start ripping off and eating pieces of bread. There was a collective sigh of relief from the entire table.

“Tashigi, we’re leaving.”

“But Captain, the Straw Hats are right here! We should apprehend them,” she protested. 

“I am not dealing with the rumors that would be started by dragging this woman out of here after what she did,” his reputation would never recover. That, and he didn’t particularly want to deal with listening to your drunk ass all night.

Just as he was walking away, grateful that you hadn’t piped up again, he caught a look of panic flash across everyone else’s faces. He saw at least three of them spring out of their seats to grab you, and he took that as his cue to leave faster with Tashigi in tow. He put two cigars in his mouth, and debated on a third after the night he’s had.

“Lucky no! Don’t you dare!” Nami was holding onto your arms for dear life, having just barely stopped you from slapping Smoker’s ass as he walked away. 

Zoro hefted you up into his arms and deposited you into Luffy’s lap, “Hold onto her and do not let go for the rest of the night.” 

Luffy immediately coiled his arms around you, not wanting you to get up and do anything else. He propped his head onto your shoulder and huffed at the whole ordeal, “Lucky, why do you have to like a marine of all people?”

“The heart wants what the heart wants, you wouldn’t get it,” you sigh dreamily, eying up Smoker’s retreating form until he was out of sight.

“Can’t we just leave now? Please,” Usopp pleaded, slumped down in his seat to the point that only his nose remained visible. 

“No, we need to give Smoker a head start, we can’t risk Lucky spotting him again,” Nami immediately shot that idea down. It’s not like she didn’t want to leave, she absolutely did, but she couldn’t risk everything that just happened repeating.

—

This had to have been the worst hangover of your life, you don’t think it could get worse than this. The events of last night were blurry, but not enough to save you from the crushing humiliation of everything you did. Currently you were seated at the table on the main deck upon Chopper’s insistence that the fresh air would make you feel better.

Due to your head being buried in your arms, you don’t see who’s approaching. Suddenly, something is dropped on your head, making you groan from the contact. You lift your head enough to glare at the perpetrator, “Nami why?”

The smug look on her face was enough to make anyone’s blood run cold, “Oh no reason, I just thought you might want to look at the newspaper this morning.”

Oh god. The look on her face promised that you would NOT want to see it, but it was too late to ignore it now. You sat up faster than you thought you could in your given state and snatched up the paper, only to almost scream when you saw the cover story.

“Scandalous! Pirate and Marine have lovers quarrel in restaurant!”

Immediately beneath the title was a picture of you clinging onto Smoker with tears and snot running down your face. Truly they couldn’t have gotten a worse picture of you if they tried. Not that Smoker looked much better with the genuine panic flitting across his face.

“He’s going to kill me,” you say barely above a whisper.

[bad268]

Teenage Heartbreak Queen (Arthur Leclerc X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/WEC

Requested: Nope, I was listening to music and thought of this lol, good song if you haven't heard it (italics are flashbacks) Also, please vote on this POV poll

Warnings: unrequited love (with Charles)

POV: Third Person (She/her)

W.C. 1992

Summary: Teenage Heartbreak Queen by Palaye Royale

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(@/Charles's insta from May 14, 2023)

They met when they were younger. They met at the karting track back in 2006. Y/n was 7, and Charles was 9. Y/n’s older brother was competing against Charles for the championship, and that was the first time Y/n was on the track.

~

Y/n got lost. Well, not really. She went to the bathroom, and when she came back, her family was gone. They actually just went to the garage and were helping her brother prepare for the race. She walked around aimlessly until the race started, and she ran into Charles, having crashed out in the first corner.

“Do you know where my brother is?” She asked, recognizing the race suit that looked similar to her brother’s. “My name’s Y/n L/n.”

“I think he’s racing still,” Charles answered, “I can take you over to his garage. I’m pretty sure your parents are there. I’m Charles by the way. Your brother’s my teammate.”

“That’s cool!” Y/n exclaimed, grabbing Charles’s outstretched hand and following him toward the garage. “Does this mean we’re friends now?”

“I guess,” He started with a laugh before she took off running.

“Then catch me!”

~

The two hit it off, becoming fast friends on the track. It did not take long for them to start hanging out outside of racing. When they did, no one else mattered. Charles preferred to hang out with Y/n in comparison to his brothers or her brother, his teammate. 

~

“We’ll always have each other right, Charlie?” Y/n asked one day while they were at the park. It was something they did every day after school while they waited for Lorenzo to pick them up. “We won’t ever change, right?”

”No, you’ll always be my best friend,” He replied as he held her hand. Even though they were only 10 and 12, they were sure that nothing could get between them.

~

They would always give Lorenzo a heart attack when he was in charge of them because they would hide from him. It was their own little game. Just Charles and Y/n. They did everything together. From working together on school assignments to karting. They were inseparable and they did not want to be separated. 

As time went on, Charles and Y/n grew up together. Some would say they were the start of a childhood friends-to-lovers trope. Charles was not sure when he crossed the line, but he knew that he could not live without her. 

At one point, she was less responsive to his messages and less likely to come to his races. He blamed it on teenage depression. She was 16 at this point, so he understood. He decided she would come around at her own time and left it at that.

Y/n, on the other hand, felt that she had been cast aside. Charles was getting deeper into racing and her brother had left a long time ago. Charles did not realize that he had put Y/n on the backburner when he started entering higher championships. He had been pouring himself into his races after he lost Jules. Not that Y/n blamed him! Everyone recovers in their own way, but he had not stopped to notice the people around him. Y/n was worried about him, but he was too absorbed with his racing to notice. 

Y/n found out about this when she went to his house one night after not hearing from him in a while. Charles was not home, but his brothers were. Lorenzo and Arthur were there, and Pascale was traveling with Charles. 

She found out that he had moved on, found new racing friends, and even a couple of girlfriends. Y/n never had feelings for Charles, but she was still hurt that she had to find out about his new life from his brothers. 

Since Charles decided to leave Y/n, she decided she would move on too. He built a new life without her, so she decided she didn’t need him.

She turned to Arthur for comfort. He was close to her age, and he understood where she was coming from. He and Charles were close, but when he joined Formula 3, it was like he didn’t matter either. Arthur knew exactly how Y/n felt.

So they kept in touch, finding solace and comfort with each other. Pretty soon, they couldn’t live without each other. They were a tag team, Arthur and Y/n. When they told Lorenzo about their eventual relationship when they were both 18, Lorenzo said he could have seen it coming. He knew they were made for each other. Even if it was unfortunate circumstances that brought them together, he was happy for them.

They found themselves together. Arthur learned that he wanted to be a racing driver too, and Y/n found out that she had a passion for aerodynamics and engineering.

Arthur began taking racing seriously as Y/n started taking college classes until they graduated. When they did, Y/n had already completed most of her degree. She just needed an internship in her field of choice.

Y/n got an internship under Adrian Newey just as Arthur was entering Formula 3, and by the time he was in Formula 2, she had secured a job in Red Bull since Adrian was retiring.

Even though she was with the rival team, as Arthur joked, she was happy because she got to learn from the best. This also made for a fun (all joking!) rivalry between the two lovers.

It wasn’t until the 2023 season that Y/n was able to make a name for herself in the racing world. She designed the RB19 by herself since Adrian knew he would retire and wanted her to put her skills to use. He supervised it but the entire design was by Y/n’s hand.

Now 24, she was being recognized for her work. Before, people would overlook her and go straight to Adrian, but since he announced that she did all of the work designing the car, the press has been all over her.

And Arthur is proud! His amazing girlfriend made the most dominating car of the decade. There would be times he would visit her in her garage. Sticking out like a sore thumb in red amongst the sea of navy blue, but it’s fine. Arthur would do anything to support her. 

It isn’t until the last race of the season that she runs into Charles again. Despite being in a relationship with his brother for six years, they never crossed paths and Charles never met Arthur’s girlfriend. She stood proud on the podium with Max, representing Red Bull, and Charles had placed second.

She accepted the trophy before holding it over her head, gesturing to her team. After they cheered, she pointed directly at Arthur and winked at him. Charles couldn’t see who she was pointing at, but he decided that since he was finally in a stable part of his career, he might act on his long-time crush on his best friend, he still considered her.

He decided he would approach her after the podium celebration; hopefully, he stood a chance. After they sprayed the champagne, he walked up behind her.

“Long time, no see, Y/n/n,” he said as he threw an arm over her shoulder. He didn’t catch the side-eye Y/n gave, nor would he have cared if he did. The adrenaline from placing second was making him delusional. “When were you going to tell me you got a job with Red Bull? I could’ve set you up at Ferrari.”

“Do you even remember the last time we talked?” She laughed nervously, but he didn’t pick it up yet again. She gently pulled his arm off her shoulders, opting to move down the stairs toward the garages. He couldn’t remember the last time they talked, but she sure did.

~

”Charlie, do you wanna watch a movie with me this weekend?” 15 year-old Y/n asked Charles over the phone. It was the only way they could actually talk, but Y/n missed her friend. Plus, she talked with Pascale and found out that he didn’t have a competition this weekend. She thought this would be the best time for them to hang out in person.

”I would but I promised Joris I would hang out,” he dismissed immediately. “I promised we would go karting to practice for the championship. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

”But Charlie, we haven’t hung out in so long! You see Joris every week,” Y/n sighed, already knowing he was blowing her off once again. She should have expected it at this point. “Can we do something this weekend, please?”

”I’m sorry, Y/n/n, but I need to prepare for this championship!” And with that, he hung up the call. That was the last time that Y/n reached out first, and that was the last time they talked period.

~

“Listen. Charles,” she started and he visibly winced. He couldn’t remember the last time she called him Charles. He was always Charlie to her. “I would love to chat, but I’m meeting with my fiancé in a few minutes.”

Instantly, he grew pale. She was taken, of course she was. He could feel his heart break immediately, but maybe he still had a chance if she wasn’t happy. He thought it was best to be supportive and see from there. “Oh, that’s great. I’m happy for you and the lucky guy,” he tried his best to sound sincere, but it came out kind of flat. Y/n caught onto it immediately too.

“He is pretty amazing. We’ve been together since we were 18. You would know that if we actually talked, y’know,” Y/n chuckled lightheartedly as she set the trophy down on the table in the garage before turning back to Charles who stood awkwardly at the garage door. “You’ll have to meet him soon. He is meeting me here in a few minutes if you want to stay around to meet him.”

“Hey mon amour,” Arthur said as he came up behind Y/n and wrapped his arms around her waist. He placed small kisses across her face as he whispered praises and congratulations for a team victory, once again. “I’m so unbelievably proud of you.”

“Thank you, love,” she giggles bashfully as her face heated up under the attention. Y/n was so caught up in Arthur that she almost forgot about Charles standing in front of them until he cleared his throat. “Oh, I almost forgot. Charles, this is my fiancé.”

“Your fiancé is my brother?!” He shouted, eyes wide, pointing between the two. “When was I going to learn about this? Do Enzo and Maman know?”

“They’ve known for a while now,” Arthur laughed, leaning into Y/n’s side. “We told Enzo when we first got together.”

“Yeah, when you were 18?” Charles questioned, being met with nods from the two. “Ah, so was I just never going to find out? I’m your brother and your best friend.”

“Were my best friend,” Y/n clarified quickly. “You left, and I moved on. You were going to find out when you went home and saw the invite in your post. Maybe if you were around more often and noticed the people around you, you would have known a long time ago.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, Charles,” Arthur says as he grabs Y/n’s hand and pulls her toward the exit of the garage where a car just pulled up. “We have reservations for tonight. We’ll see you back in Monaco.”

It was then that Charles realized that he fell in love with his best friend, but she fell in love with his brother instead. Because she’s a teenage heartbreak queen, he decided, and it was just him and his misery from now on.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[madamvanrouge]

Not Another Song About Love

Lilia Vanrouge x Reader

Notes : G/N! Reader, war era General Lilia, angst

Let it out.

Been building up, you better let it out.

Say everything that you've been meaning now.

I want it to burn.

Lilia felt tired. There was an aching sensation in his heart, one that tore away at him. He wished he could stop thinking about them. He wished he could stop thinking about their voice, their lips, the shape of their eyes and the way the corner of their eyes crinkled when they laughed. Excruciating pain was only to set foot in a most sultry manner in the depths of his heart.

When you tell me I'm such a wreck.

It isn't easy cleaning up your mess.

It's like I've got a rope around my neck.

She says it won't hurt.

It was so difficult for him, always being the one to look after others, cleaning up their messes. But Y/N, they were the one to always take care of him. Meleanor had said love wouldn't hurt, that Lilia should just embrace his feelings. But it felt as if he would suffocate from it any second. He couldn't love anyone. He wasn't capable of it. He was just a filthy, useless bat. A lowlife whose magic was polluted. He could not possibly be in a beautiful feeling such as love. He could never deign himself worthy to be in love, what he had was probably obsession. After all, a pure thing like love could never exist in his heart. He was lower than the low. The senators had never failed to remind him of that.

But everything you do makes my heart race.

I can't even think straight.

Is this just a game to you?

Reruns every night.

It's always the same fight.

And I think you should know.

He was probably just a game to Y/N. They probably didn't even care about him much. Why would they? He was just a mere commoner, a mere soldier. They were so much more. They were the radiant light, he was nothing in comparison, other than perhaps the annoyingly persistent shadows that inked the bright meadows with a murky black. Whenever they touched him softly and bandaged him, and cheered him on with their gentle and unyielding words. They were probably either pitying him or playing around with his pathetic self for a brief moment. They couldn't possibly love him. It was impossible.

I hate your touch, I hate your mouth.

I can't stand every single word that falls out.

But you're all that I've been dreaming of.

This is not another song about love.

Lilia wished to hear more of their sweet compliments, even if he did not deserve it. He yearned for more. He wished that he was the one they held in their embrace. He wished he was the one Y/N saw and called their love. He hated feeling this way, and yet he couldn't help himself. Lilia wanted himself in their loving arms, in their life, in their home. If they allowed him. It was his one and only earnest desire.

I hate your voice, I hate your lips.

I hate how bad I wanna steal your kiss.

But you're all that I've been dreaming of.

This is not another song about love.

Lilia often found himself staring at their lips, wondering how they would taste. Wondering whether their lips would be soft or slightly chapped. He dreamt often of a life where they loved him back and kissed him the way he had always wanted them to. Their arms would be wrapped around his petite waist as they pressed their lips upon his. And he would kiss them back, till his lips tired of kissing their worries away. He despised how much he craved for these fantasies, despite knowing that they would never come true. He could never be theirs. He had a duty to his country, and to Meleanor. To his dear old friend Raven as well. He could never fall in love. His was a life of serving, and they deserved much better than the servant that was him.

Lilia closed his eyes and went to sleep. And this time, he hoped he would never dream of the person he "loved".

---------------------------------------------------

@koneko-dreams Your order!!

[arabaka]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ uzui tengen x fem!reader. CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ !!! written with the intention of being canon-divergent: tengen is in his early 20s when you marry and either you will be the only wife or the first (so no mention of the 3 wives here). term "bride" is used. virginity loss (and mention of sex hurting). unprotected sex. creampie. AUTHOR'S NOTE: tbh, i'm not a huge fan of this but i didn't work for hours not to post this lol so pls be nice... WORD COUNT: 3.1K PSD CREDIT !!! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED !!!!!!!（ ꐦꉺωꉺ)つ

Marriage, it’s a means to an end for the women in your clan; how useful can you be if you’re not bearing children, and lots of them, to ensure that the livelihood of your bloodline (or rather, your husband’s) stands the test of your time? Affection is hardly guaranteed, intimacy only a factor when you’re underneath the man you’re promised to. You know this, were raised with this idea in mind. The very notion of love is an afterthought.

You aren’t expecting it. Did not think it would come to you, no matter who you were to wed. So as you’re seated, posture nice and proper, with your treasured koto lying in front of you as evidence of your many talents, you expect your heart to be tame when your betrothed walks through those doors.

So imagine your surprise when your heart betrays you, thumping at a rate you’ve only experienced during your harsh and diligent kunoichi training, when a certain Uzui Tengen, strongest of his family, strides in your line of vision with an aura unlike anything you’ve ever sensed before.

You feel silly, fingers trembling for a man you know only by his name on your tongue. It’s a sickly sensation, your stomach folding in on itself with nerves you didn’t count on. You nearly forget to bow, not wanting to tear your eyes away from the magnetism the man exudes for even a second but your mother is kind enough to press a firm palm to your back. You always thought she would want this more than you, but now you’re not so sure after coming face to face with someone the likes of him. 

Tengen grew up largely the same, if we are on the topic of principle alone. Children in the Uzui household are raised to care for aptitude and strength, not each other. Bloodshed is more common than a kind word. But while his father tried to hammer away the notion that wives are only good for childrearing and nothing else, Tengen couldn’t help but feel that his heart would sing for a woman to call his own.

A hope that comes to fruition the moment his eyes land on you, that very song he always longed for reaching a crescendo when you bless him with the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. 

So the questions the faction head goes through end up mattering little in comparison to your answers. Every word, Tengen clings to. Even when you play the koto, fingers daintily and precisely plucking the strings to orchestrate a tune Tengen wants as his personal lullaby, all he can keep his eyes on is you. 

The attraction between the two of you is as sudden as it is all encompassing. You have never entertained the thought of love, much less love at first sight, yet here you are, completely and totally enamored with a man you hardly know. 

You didn’t think you would get swept up like this, didn’t think this passion would overtake your heart so easily and so strongly but you suppose this is fate and you aren’t about to question the gift it’s plopped onto your lap.

The clan leader is just about to take back the reins on the meeting, declare that a further review would take place, when Tengen pipes up loud and clear, with a fire in his eyes you would soon grow accustomed to.

“No need! This will be my bride!” 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and it is throbbing. He sounds so sure, looks even more so with his brawny arms crossed over his puffed out chest and you can feel your vision wobble, his entire visage and the intention of his declaration striking you right where you sit. And with that, you refuse to allow any moment of silence to cross the room, for fear even a second could cost you the marriage. Your volume is on par with Tengen’s as you cry, “It would be my honor! Please,” You bow before the man, forehead kissing the tatami mat below when you continue, “bless me with the privilege to live alongside you for as long as either of us shall live.”

Those words… You mean them, can feel your tongue fanning the flames of your soul, embers burning bright for the man you are determined to make your husband. And it’s a role he is just as eager to take, having resolved to claim you since the moment your eyes met.

And he tells you as much when the two of you are finally alone, after the arrangement is all said and done.

“Come here.” Unlike your first meeting, Tengen’s voice here is tender and soft, a hand of his outstretched as he beckons you to come into the room the two of you will now share as husband and wife. Dressed in a nighttime garment with his hair down and face clean of any distractions, it’s no wonder you hesitate, in awe of the beauty of your spouse. You catch yourself staring, cheeks basking in newfound feverish warmth but your husband simply laughs. Not at you, not at your expense, but because you’re just too damn cute.

Your intention is to sit beside him, but Tengen has other plans. Not content with the idea of being apart from you any longer, he captures your hands in his and pulls, guiding you onto his lap. He feels your legs buckle and squirm until you’ve adjusted to the thick muscle just underneath his robe. This may be as foreign to him as it is to you, but it sure doesn’t seem like it. Must be the confidence that seems to come with everything Tengen does, like the grin he’s giving you right at this moment.

“Comfortable?” He asks, just as he runs a large palm down your spine until resting firmly on the small of your back. He cocks his head then, white tresses framing his strong jawline and you feel your heart rattling from his effortless charm. And to think, you have this man now and forever. It’s supposed to be daunting to a degree but this climate is nothing like the arranged marriages you’ve heard about in the district. Where you’re supposed to feel constrained, you feel cradled. Where you’re supposed to feel obligation, you feel true desire. 

“Mmhm,” Your hands travel from your body to his, walking up his torso and stifling a breath when you feel the firmness of his pecs waiting underneath his garb, “Very.” You notice the slight quiver in his chest on an inhale; it would be indiscernible to anyone else but to someone of your caliber, someone trained to analyze even the most minute changes in another person’s body, it’s all too apparent. “And you?” You feel called to touch more of him, fingertips trailing towards his center and dipping beneath the hemline of his clothing. 

He revels in your touch, craves more of it actually but Tengen is also enjoying the simplicity of this initial contact. You’ve inspired him to explore more of you, letting his other hand wander up your arm until it sweeps over your clavicle. He’s thoughtful in the way his thumb brushes strokes along the bone, admiring the finer details of your form. “Very.” He repeats, crimson eyes flitting to meet yours and you swear, you lose even the most basic skill of breathing just then. 

You realize then, just how close the two of you are. It should scare you, the intensity of this position but you can only think of wanting more when you look at Tengen’s strong features, the flare burning and circulating his pupils.

“Tengen,” You breathe, “Do you believe in fate?” 

He offers up a smile before moving his fingers up from your neckline until he has his thumb pressing down on the surface of your chin, the rest of his fingers crooked underneath to gingerly move your head, allowing him to admire your features from every angle. “Of course.” He sounds so certain, “How else would we have met?”

His words, they’re so sweet they litter goosebumps on your skin. But he doesn’t stop there. The pad of his thumb is now at your bottom lip, squishing the skin so he can watch the delightful way color drains from it. Your teeth poke out just a tad and you hear a soft rumble in the base of his throat, a groan he’s barely able to restrain at how delicious you look. “You need to know, I don’t do anything half-assed. I don’t take anything that’s beneath me.” You follow his direction, your head tilting to the side and god, he could just eat you up. Looking as disheveled as you do, hair flowing in the same direction with the collar of your garment starting to slide down the slope of your shoulder. 

You notice the pivot in his gaze, feel a tremble in your bones when he starts to speak again, “And what I do take…” You feel pressure on your back, Tengen working to close the gap between you two at last and all you can do is follow, desperately craving the same thing. “Is what I treasure.” 

And at long last, your lips touch, the hand at your face now withdrawing only for it to land squarely on your thigh, squeezing the supple flesh that awaits him there. You sigh, following suit and finally letting your fingers curl and grip knots into Tengen’s robe. You’ve never kissed, never known it could feel this good and it’s a high your brain won’t soon forget, even if your movements are naive and at times, clunky. 

When you part, it’s only for a breath. Tengen milks the opportunity though, drinking in the dazed look in your eyes, the gap between your lips as you try to find satisfaction apart from him. He knows what he wants, knows what he needs and that is to kiss you more.

You desire the same, knees at either side of Tengen’s body starting to cave in as the urge for more, more, more starts to overwhelm your very soul. You swoop in, kissing Tengen and stealing a glance at just the right moment so you can watch those pretty eyes of his flutter shut. His lips, they’re as firm as the rest of him but when he kisses you, it’s with a fondness you’ve never felt in your life. A care you’ll only ever want from him.

One kiss turns to two, then three until it’s like you’ve only known how to kiss him your whole life. The moment, it starts to feel so good that you unknowingly start to sink deeper into his lap, squeezing a throat groan from the man that you part your lips to swallow. You have to have more so your tongue crosses the threshold, sliding along his until the spit starts to trickle out the corner of your mouth and coat your lips in a glossy sheen.

Do you know what you’re doing to him? Do you understand that you’re reducing a man as strong as he into a melted mess? You feel his nails start to dig into your back, mimicking what you’re doing to his chest and you whimper. Not from pain, but from pleasure.

You don’t know when it happened, but you’ve stopped rubbing yourself on his meaty thighs and started grinding on the very prominent outline of his hardened cock. And now that you’ve started, you don’t want to stop. So you keep bumping yourself against his girth, keep winding yourself up and down, up and down over its thick weight because it sparks to life a tingling pleasure you’ve never imagined.

Tengen tries to grin into the kiss but he surprises himself when all he can offer up is a needy groan. What a little minx you’ve become, he should have expected this show of force but the surprise only quickens the blood flow to his shaft and you feel it, experience the twitch bouncing between your folds. He reminds you of the hold he has on you, one hand deepening the arch in your back while the other at your thigh starts to direct the rhythm of your hips. “Let me have you. Let me have all of you, my bride.” He growls so intently into your mouth that all you can do is nod your head and let his hands get to work.

“Need to see you, hold on.” Tengen’s back to the floor and you on top, he ushers you to come to a seat under his shaft so he can see how far up his long and heavy cock will go inside you. The sight is beautiful, perfect even as he bends his knees so you have something to recline on. The way he starts to pivot his pelvis, running the length of his shaft up your tummy is driving you mad. You’re so wet, it’s dripping onto the base of his member and he trembles once the droplets start to run down his fat and full sac. “Shit, you’re this wet for me? Come on, show me that you’re made for me.”

With that, you pick yourself up, giving yourself enough space to position his leaking tip at your entrance. The head of his dick is wide and swollen. Driblets of his pre-cum start to slather along your folds and as you start to lower yourself, you learn that his length, his width, is going to be a challenge.

But when have you ever turned down a challenge?

“Come on, that’s it.” Tengen’s hands find themselves latched onto your hips, the veins running down his knuckles making themselves known as his grip grows tighter and tighter. He watches your expression, takes note of how your twist and your brows furrow as you stretch for him and he starts to whisper gentle praises, telling you that you’re doing so good, doing so well for your husband.

And it’s like a cork pops when he finally gets the tip in. A whimper escapes you, as does a pant as you struggle to take him. You’ve known pain, trained for it even but this… He’s just massive, you feel like he could split you in two if either of you aren’t careful. Your gummy walls convulse, trying to adopt to the intrusion as best it can as you start to lower yourself inch by inch. 

“S-Shit. You could keep it there and I’d– Fuck.” Tengen throws his head back, crown digging into the mat while he stills himself inside you. Even though you’re clenched around him so firmly, you’re still dribbling your juices onto him, slathering him in your essence and he’s only a little past his glans inside you. “You’re so damn tight.”

When did you start drooling? When did tears start to prick at your waterline? The sensation of Tengen filling you out is all you can think about and even though it hurts, you want to work through the strain. “Is– s-so big, T-Tengen.” You whine and it shocks you, the frailty in your voice.

His head picked back up, Tengen can’t believe what he’s seeing. A bump is starting to take shape the more you sink down his cock, the evidence that he’s well inside you on a beautiful display for him. “You’re doing great. Taking me so fucking well.” You have him hissing, incapable of taking on a tone any louder than that– a true feat for the man with a voice that can command a room.

So he watches you with bated breath and the edge of his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as you take him right to the end, your ass coming to a snugly rest on his upper thighs. Neither of you move just then, wishing to enjoy the moment as it is.

You’re shaking, your entire body rocking on Tengen’s burly muscles and even though all he is doing is flexing his cock inside you, you paw incessantly on his chest. “T-Tengen…” 

He coaxes you to lower yourself, draw close to him so you’re chest to chest. Close enough to kiss, so he does. “Gonna move a little.” Accenting his words is the slow roll of his hips, the rigidity of his member expanding further into your core and while it still aches, you’re starting to weed out the bits and pieces of dizzying pleasure within. “This is all I need tonight, baby. Just this.” Tengen nibbles on your bottom lip, narrowed eyes still on you even as you kiss.

The nod you give is lazy, all your energy drained by every tremor, every squeeze of your cunt. “T-Tengen, t-touch me– t-touch me here.” You mewl, saliva dripping into your husband’s mouth as one of your hands shakily takes his. You mold his hand, direct it to cup your sopping heat. “P-Please, please, please.” 

You’ve never begged. But for him? You’ll do anything.

Huffing because every exhale turns into a stifled grunt, Tengen’s thick fingers start to run motions along your little bundle of nerves until he gets to a routine of toying with your clit. He follows your moans like a song, paying attention to what movement makes you sing the prettiest. He kneads your sweet muscle, swiping some of your slick and coating your clit until it too is drenched.

Lashes kissing and eyes rolling back, you begin to meet Tengen’s ruts as if it comes to you naturally. That’s what it feels like anyways, because you keep driving your hips back so expertly it must be instinctual. You continue at this pace for a while, your motions languid and his penetration deep. 

“Gonna cum,” Tengen suddenly grunts, rocking you forward so your forehead ends up docking against his, “and it’s gonna be inside.” This isn’t a question. This isn’t up for debate.

And you’re okay with that.

“Y-Yes, plea-please.” 

Pressure builds in his thrusts, he’s fucking into you with more strength but with the same speed and that’s just what he needs before you feel him emptying his hot and heavy load into you. It’s passionate, the kiss he gives you as he fills you up and makes you nice and wet for him to pump the remaining spurts of his seed. “Hnnghh, fuckkkkk.” The thunderous moan has you trembling, your hole spasming around your husband’s cock as you too start to feel an overwhelming wave of bliss wash over you.  It’s amazing how gentle this boisterous, big man can be as he helps you off his cock, so much of him leaking out of you almost instantly as he does so. And it’s amazing, how he massages your stomach afterwards, soothing your various muscles for all their hard work. And it’s amazing, how at home you feel, in his arms and against his chest, falling asleep to the chorus of his heartbeat after a long, long night.

[wyn-n-tonic]

That's A Real Fucking Legacy: The Lips I Used to Call Home

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/former Tommy Miller x f!reader Word Count: 1392 Warnings: I don't think there are any (let me know if I'm wrong). Author's Note: Title longer than a Fall Out Boy song.

That's A Real Fucking Legacy Masterlist

Calling Boston to Wyoming a quick shot straight through would be laughable. It would’ve been laughable in the before but it is definitely laughable now.

But to do this with a baby?

It’s not just laughable, it’s a goddamn death wish. 

The only way she’s calmest is wrapped up against her daddy’s chest, his large arms folded over her small body. It leaves him unable to do much else but it’s also the only way his own fear leaves his eyes.

There’s luck in the Fireflies, though.

Safe house to safe house, vehicle to vehicle. There’s no thick, rotten scent of the infected near until somewhere in Kansas City. 

He feels useless, like he’s unable to protect the baby or you or anybody else. But despite stewing about sitting in the safe house with you and the baby, he does express happiness over the first alone time you’ve shared in about three weeks. 

“You should be sleeping, sweetheart,” he says, his voice laced through with a tone that says it’s not a suggestion. “You need your strength.” 

The season is giving over from late summer to early fall, every day changing hour by hour with the walking and the driving. It was easy in the QZ, year by year. You knew what to expect, how to rest your body—you could seek rest for your body when you needed. 

You need it so much more every day with the way the weather and the travel is going after your body followed by the stress of it all; the complex emotions this entire ordeal is brought on.

This was never a hope in your mind; leaving, going. Your eyes rolled every time Tommy talked about leaving the QZ, it was the subject of so many fights. He believed there was better and you only believed there was death beyond the walls of FEDRA protection. The longer time stretched on after he left, the more steadfast that belief came to the point that you shook with sobs and fear every time Joel made his trips across to trade.

“I'm fine, really.” 

The bed beneath you isn’t what you’d call comfortable, not in the before times at least and definitely not in comparison to the worn in lump you were used to back in Boston. You’ve been laying together since the moment you settled into the safe house, everybody else going out to clear paths for the trucks to get through.

Baby babbles through sleep in her father’s arms beside you, not once have you called her by the name you ended up giving her. Not since he showed up. And the belief that beyond the walls means death is so hardwired into your body and brain that you can’t find it in you to sleep. That’s why he’s talking about your strength, sneaks you bits of his own rations. 

You’re still breastfeeding, as well. When you can, anyway. It’s been harder on the road and the lack of any real privacy isn’t helping. No matter how he tries to shield your body, the awareness that there’s not just eyes but Tommy’s eyes is enough to run every part of you dry and cold even if it’s getting hotter and more humid with every day you pass into the south.

“You look like shit, sweetheart,” he whispers across the small space between your bodies. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re afraid to sleep.” 

“Yeah,” you tell him, eyes darting down to your daughter between you. “I am.” 

“I’m right here,” he says, hand smoothing down the hair at the crown of your head. “It’s okay, please rest.” 

They’re gone when you wake.

It's just you in a cold and empty bed, a threadbare excuse for a blanket draped over your sleeping body along with his jacket. Alarm bells go off in your brain and then you hear the voices in the next room.

Joel’s.

Baby’s.

Tommy’s. 

Nobody else, just them.

“She has your dimples.” Tommy.

There’s a small laugh and then Joel says he’s glad she got them on both sides, not just the one. 

Tommy’s voice is tired, weather worn and rough from strain. Not how he sounded this morning when he left.

There’s a hunger in your stomach, growing and aching loud but it stops with every word spoken between the men you love that filters through the thin walls and half cracked door.

“How is she really?” Tommy asks. “Joel, I still love her—“

“How? How can you still love her when you left her alone for so long?” 

“How could I ask either of you to come with me if I didn’t?”

There’s an annoyed kind of grumble that could only belong to Joel and then silence that stretches on just long enough to make you think there’s space to move forward into the conversation but then it breaks. 

“I wouldn’t say that she’s good, Tommy.” You can hear the way his leg bounces to entertain the baby. “None of us are good anymore but, my God, she’s fucking amazing.”

“Yeah?”

Joel clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Do you love her?” The younger man asks. 

A beat.

Another. 

Two more.

“I feel a whole lot more for that woman than just love, Tommy,” he finally says. “I know you’re hurting but you have to understand that I—we thought that you were dead. She hurt for a long time and I watched her do that and I did my best to be there for her but—“ Baby babbles to interrupt him and you can practically see the smile in the laughter that follows. 

Those feelings, the existence of them, aren’t new to you. Still, every time he insinuates their existence your head gets light—fuzzy and warm.

“But what, Joel?” Tommy prompts him. “I’m trying to understand this, because I want to not hurt and I want to look at this little girl and not want to cry.”

“Yeah.” A chair creaks and you assume somebody sat forward or back. “I want to look at her and not want to cry, too, but I felt that with Sarah—I feel that with you, Tommy, you might as well have been my first kid sometimes. It wasn’t just me that was there for her through all that hurt over those years, she was there for me and refused to let me pull away. Being with her is the closest I feel to who I was before, I need you to understand that.” 

“That's how she made me feel, too,” Tommy responds. “But I don’t know if I’ll ever really understand.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Joel concedes. “Hell, that’s more than fair, you’re probably really sick of us asking you to understand. Can I have Baby back now?”

Confusion floods through you, you were certain the calm, happy babbles were because she was tucked into her daddy’s arm; bouncing on her daddy’s leg.

“Does she have a name?” Tommy asks. “Or have you just been calling her Baby this whole time? I know you’re afraid to get attached, Joel, but—“

“We named her Thomasin,” Joel says, that stern, warning shot in his tone again. Begging his brother to understand this, that this was the honor you could give his memory—that you named what was born out of grief and love for him after him. “We call her Thomi for short but we’ve been thinking about changing it. We figured it would make you uncomfortable.” 

“No,” Tommy answers. “No, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all.” 

Hunger grows loud again but so, too, does the blood rush of his words up your neck, into your cheeks and between your ears. For all the tears and all the yelling and the hurt of fresh cuts on closed wounds his arrival brought back into your life, those are the words of the man you once loved. It has been weeks and he is holding her, speaking about her—about you—so gently. Despite saying he doesn’t understand, it’s there in his voice and lacing through every one of his words and it grows stronger each day closer to Jackson.

“I promised her that I’d come back for her, give her a safer and happier life that she deserves,” Tommy starts again. “I’m heartbroken that it won’t be with me, Joel, but I am glad it’s with you.” 

[henrysglock]

Mother is God, In The Eyes of a Child

This has got to be my farthest-fetched theory, and its more of a collection of observations that weave together than an actual theory. However...there's something distinctly weird about all this.

It started here:

Max steps on spider egg sacs in Vecna's mind lair, and the babies spill out.

"If there's a spider, you're never gonna find it 'till it lays eggs and the babies spill out"

Then Vecna killing Patrick while looking distinctly like a spider on a web, a direct comparison to those black widows.

And I talked in the discord chat talking with Em for a while like. They. They wouldn't. Right? And I've been sitting here thinking about the last time I said "they wouldn't...right?" So here we go.

"Of course you have a mother. You couldn't really have been born without one."

But Mama is dead...

just like One doesn't exist.

And whoever you are, either you aren't home (which, you're "Terry's daughter" in Terry's home which was decorated for you in hopes that you'd come home 🤨)...or you aren't Terry's daughter.

but wait: Mr. Mom? Perfect!

Mr. Mom...which leads straight to the lab going haywire:

Because of the Mind Flayer, who we know is (most likely) a version of Edward.

And "sleepyhead" is a parent thing...but it's specifically a mom thing, and it comes from the guy who's likely Edward. Why are you, as a man, so distinctly mother?

And so I'm looking at all of his God coding:

And I'm looking at his talk of spiders, particularly black widows, being the gods of our world:

There's also this particular dialogue parallel with Carrie's mother:

As well as Black Widow "God of Our World" 001 and Henry "Sensitive (Gay) Child" Creel, framed this way in back to back shots.

One of them has the rainbow flag and the other's got the black widow spider, makes sense...right? (Sure. Except not really.)

He also has a ton of God coding in his music choices:

Except, when we look at the songs he alone or he and El are overlaid with...Akhnaten is functionally a mezzo-soprano. In the pieces we hear specifically, Akhnaten sings in the same range or higher than Nefertiti.

Which then gets me thinking about the Silent Hill parallels (that Em has talked about here), and specifically this one line of dialogue from Dahlia:

And the fact that every single black widow spider reference regarding Henward/Vecna/001 has been about female black widows, never male ones:

As well as a good portion of his rant being about:

- Being vaguely broken (what's wrong with him is never said) - His kinship with spiders (specifically the female black widows) - Society's oppressive made-up rules - Being forced to pretend (unspecificed as to what, exactly, he's pretending about...all we get is "a silly, terrible play") - Reproduction

Then the fact that Vecna kind of has a thing for showing up as mothers:

And on top of all that...the fact that Vecna somehow lost his dick along the way. Where did it go????????

There's also all the birthing and reproduction imagery that goes along with the UD, most blatantly in the scene where El crawls out of the same hole the Demogorgon came through:

As well as these movies from the ST4 Movie Board:

Ace Ventura Pet Detective: Finkle has a sex change to assume a new identity and seek vengeance.

Let The Right One In: Vampire girl who is really a boy being forced to live as a girl

Sleepaway Camp: Girl named Angela who is actually a boy named Peter being forced by his aunt to live as a girl after his twin sister (the real Angela) was killed in an accident. (Wibble knows more about this one than I do, but I'm staring at Peter Ballard and all of our Angela's parallels to the lab)

Splice: Female Human-Animal hybrid "dies" (is actually in a coma) and undergoes a spontaneous sex change to male and proceeds to go berserk.

Silence of the Lambs: Main villain is a blonde, wavy-haired cross-dressing serial killer.

And then with the parallels to Room (even if it isn't on the ST4 Movie Board):

Plus Will's Alan Turing poster and the castration stuff that goes along with that..and the "Henry" that shows up behind him:

What in the gender is going on here?

[cialovesklopp]

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀’𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — in which a new era begins and losts of secrets will be released along with teases: welcome in amara imani’s renaissance

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 — @aechii @charlesleclerciatheloveofmylife @locedes @lorarri

masterlist

AMARA IMANI’S RENAISSANCE HAS OFFICIALLY BEGUN! Not only did the nigerian singer create some havoc in her fan bases with her last two singles (thank u, next; in my head) but she completely broke the world when she announced the incoming of her new album mon amour.

of course, the news not only announced her official comeback but she also confirmed that she was not done with her career and the music industry. Though the expectations are high now — it’s not only her fan base that is expecting her, nearly every one is. after all, her second album was rather forgettable in comparison to her first one. And adding to that, the amount of scandals, the singer left the world with: all eyes will be on her and expecting her in these coming days.

What might be feeling her though could be that her ex-boyfriend Evan Henderson and partner Kaia Gerber are seen less and less in public which might be normal for some but not for us — not after witnessing their honeymoon phase that lasted for over five months.

And might we add, that this is only the beginning of her better days. whereas two years ago Imani declined to perform her song at the grammys, sources are claiming that she will be the one to open them along and apparently, a headline for coachella is also in the talking?

Those are big responsibilities to come for Imani — Will she be able to hold her end of the deal?

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username opening the Grammys and getting a headline for coachella in the same year is a bit much for a person who just came back. she’s clearly overrated

username thank u next was definitely a bop and showed everyone who she was so I think she should manage everything

username either way people will critize and analyse her no matter what she does so, we’ll just see i guess.

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚.𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢

amara.imani for the time you gave me flowers

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graceywood i did not approve of this promo, stop spoiling the entire song

amara.imani oops

username JUST TELL US PLEASE WHO’S YOUR NEW BOYFRIEND?

username we promise we won’t stalk him or do any threatening

username the fact her new boyfriend is already five times better than evan and WE DON’T EVEN KNOW HIM

beyoncé i can’t wait for everybody to hear this masterpiece, very glad to have been a part

liyah_clark SEND ME ANOTHER TEASER PLEASE (charles stole my phone to listen to it and now the entire grid wants to hear more)

charles_leclerc it wasn’t my fault, i already told you lando stole my phone and then he gave it to daniel who made everyone listen

amara.imani did lewis listen to it

lewishamilton i did and i loved it. excited for more to come

amara.imani @liyah_clark i’ll send you the whole song

graceywood 😐

username i just wanna know which song this is so i can listen the shit out of it

username facts

arianagrande waiting for the release of it 💋

hermusicofficial glad to be a part of this journey

username if i die after listening to this album, i can say i died happily