#counting three layers there frank?

[frnkiebby]

the emo and the (scruffy???) twink~🎃

[leilanihours]

Anything with Kate Martin pleaseee!

# GOLD RUSH

pairing: kate martin x teammate!reader

word count: 1780

warnings: none !

summary: kate being the cutest most adoring girlfriend ever while you get ready on live.

⭑ from lani: this was heavily inspired by this video bc kate actually might be the cutest human to ever walk the earth ty

masterlist !

"WHAT IS UP guys, welcome back to yet another game day prep," you greet to the camera propped against the mirror in front of you, "today we are going up against lsu, so there's gonna be a lot of tension in the arena today."

user1: hi y/nnnn

user2: is caitlin there?

user3: team lsu lol

user4: y/n what shampoo/conditioner do u use??

it's become a tradition for you to go live and do a little "get ready with me" on the most highly-anticipated gamedays, as you wanted to get fans excited for the face-off.

the first one you hosted got lots of love, viewers falling in love with your bubbly personality and witty remarks to your teasing teammates.

you were currently in your hotel bathroom, one you shared with your teammate, gabbie marshall. but all the girls have borderline separation anxiety, leading to half the team hanging out in your room as you all prepare yourselves for the game.

"are you on live?" you hear a voice whisper. turning your head, you see kate peeking hers into the bathroom a small smile on her face.

"yeah," you reply sweetly, "you wanna say hi?"

she nods, immediately sliding the door open to join you.

"looks like we have a special cameo today, folks, y'all got lucky," you laugh

"hi, live, how you guys doin?" kate says.

as you begin doing your skincare, you see kate take a seat on the closed toilet in the corner, carefully observing your routine.

"you okay, babe?" you ask with a grin once you notice her puppy-dog like stare. the nickname slips from your lips like first nature, appearing cordial to the camera but the two of you know the hidden meaning.

user1: help kate looks so starstruck wtf shes adorable

user2: omg wait i use that same moisturizer

user3: "BABE"?

user4: not kate just sitting on a damn toilet LMAOO

you and kate have always been close, ever since your freshman year at iowa. on the court you two bounce off of each other's energy constantly, frequently managing to raise the stakes of the game.

fans have noticed it too, of course, with proud taps after one of you makes a shot and suspiciously long post-game hugs.

the team is fully aware of your private relationship, respecting your wishes of secrecy. there have been pointed questions from reporters and interviewers, but you all know how to dodge a personal question one way or another.

a few minutes go by of you telling a funny story from the bus ride to the hotel, consisting of caitlin getting caught on video singing horribly off-key. with promises of posting the recording later that evening, you and kate both laugh at the memory.

as you start on your light makeup look, you begin reading some comments popping up on your screen.

user1: thoughts on reese and clarks rivalry??

user2: wheres caitlin and gabbie

user3: y/n can u say hi alyssa

user4: what are your guys' top 3 music artists

"'thoughts on reese and clark's rivalry?'" you read, "i mean, they've said it before, there's no bad blood between them, just some good old basketball competition," you state with a small smile as you start blending in a light layer of skin tint.

"yeah, i mean some light-hearted teasing and trash-talking always makes a game more fun in my opinion," kate chimes in, "especially when it leads to an increase in viewership."

"for sure, for sure," you smirk at her in the corner of your eye, sneakily suggesting your own dating rumors circulating before every game.

"'top three music artists?'" kate reads, "dude, mine changes 24/7 so i have no idea anymore."

"ooo," you contemplate the question as you look up in thought, "gotta be taylor swift...sza...anddd frank ocean? no, kehlani! wait actually-"

"i don't think you know either, y/n," kate laughs.

"oh whatever," you say, rolling your eyes playfully, "speaking of music, can you put some on?"

"i gotchu," kate responds, picking up her phone to connect to the bluetooth speaker on the counter.

soon enough, you hear the familiar tune of "gold rush" by taylor swift, a song publicly known to be your favorite (kate knows this, naturally, which is why she played it first).

once she notices your stretched grin and quiet hum to the lyrics, she mirrors your expression, feeling light in her chest at the sight of your happiness.

she stands up from her spot on top of the toilet seat, slowly coming up behind you to observe you even closer.

the two of you make eye contact in the mirror, immediately blushing and smiling like madmen. and, of course, nothing goes unnoticed by the live watchers so comments of you two rush in.

user1: aww the way they smile at each other im crying

user2: okay when is it my turn to get a gf like y/n or kate 😢

user3: not kate stealing my gf..

user4: they gotta be dating right??

you and kate scan over the messages, trying to keep a straight face as to not give away anything.

"kate can you do me a favor and get my setting spray from my suitcase? its in a clear bottle with a pink cap," you ask her, but shes too entranced by your beauty to hear.

"sorry, what was that?"

you giggle, "my setting spray please?"

"oh! okay, be right back, guys!"

you return your focus to your makeup and the song playing, the melodies too addicting for you to not sing along.

as kate comes back into the fairly spacious bathroom, you thank her for getting your spray, placing it on the marble counter. she reclaims her spot behind you, continuing to watch you work as if you were the most interesting movie she'd ever seen.

she wishes she could place her arms around your waist and rest her chin on your shoulder to whisper sweet words into your ear. sadly, for the sake of your private relationship, she had to settle for admiring from afar (which is really only like a foot away from you).

"y/n!" you hear one of the girls call out from the bedroom, "can i borrow your eyebrow gel? i forgot mine in my room!"

"sure, it's in here, come grab it!" you yell back. a few seconds later, jada comes sauntering into the bathroom, immediately taking notice of kate's presence and the phone displaying your every action.

"oh my gosh, heyy livee," she smiles, waving her fingers at the camera.

user1: omg jada ilysm

user2: still waiting on catilin tbh

user3: JADA!!

user4: my fav girls :((

as you apply small amounts of blush to your cheeks, jada stands next to you fixing up her eyebrows wih your gel. and, yes, kate is still behind the both of you. she has begun to fix her hair into her signature ponytail braid, quickly maneuvering her dirty-blonde locks with ease after working the style for so long.

"my teammates are so prettayy," she exclaims to the livestream once she'd finished with her hair.

"you're prettyy," jada replies, singing.

"pretty beautiful," kate sings back while you're simply giggling at the girls' antics.

you're too concentrated on curling your lashes correctly to notice that kate was specifically gazing at you with that last comment, nothing but pure love and admiration behind her words.

jada, who is now out of the frame and catching kate's longing stare in your direction, turns around to face her, mouthing: "you're so whipped."

kate playfully shoves her out the bathroom and returns to her former seat on the toilet.

"okay, guys, sorry we haven't been talking to y'all that much," you say as you step back from the mirror, "the last step of my makeup look is to apply some setting spray that, thankfully, the lovely kate martin has gotten for me."

"wait, can i do it?" kate asks, eager to help you out.

"yeah, come over here," you respond.

kate shoots up and over to you and takes the bottle from your hand. her fingers brush against yours for a split second, sending a tingly feeling throughout your body. at this point, you don't even need to put blush on, kate's subtle touches bringing more than enough color to your face.

"i'll tell you when to stop, okay?"

"okay, close your eyes for me," kate mumbles, putting a delicate hand on your shoulder.

obliging, you feel light spritzes of mist fall on your face as kate controls the bottle nervously, not wanting to mess up.

"don't hold back, i'll tell you when it's good, don't worry," you laugh.

almost a whole minute goes by, which slightly concerns your girlfriend.

"more??" she exclaims.

finally, you tell her you've received a good amount, opening your eyes to look at her. you're instantly met those blue eyes youve grown so fond of. and again, you can't keep the smile off your face when she maintains eye contact in an irritatingly addictive manner. you practically forget about the phone pointed on the two of you, stuck in your own worlds.

"gametime, guys, let's go!" you hear a voice echo, snapping the two of you out of your trances.

user1: OMG WAS THAT CAITLIN

user2: i know my wifes voice when i hear it

user3: are we just gonna ignore the eye contact between kate and y/n??

user4: yall r so delusional lmaoo

returning to your phone, you pick it up off the mirror and follow kate out of the bathroom.

"okay, guys, hopefully you enjoyed today's live," you cheer, "make sure to tune in to espn tonight to watch the game!"

you hear an overlap of voices, each one saying goodbye to the viewers.

"bye live! see you soon!" from kate.

"bye my lovely people!" from gabbie.

"mwah love you guys see y'all at the game!" from jada.

"go hawkeyes!" from caitlin.

you snicker as you watch more and more comments about caitlin pour in, your followers going crazy at a small glimpse of their favorite athlete.

as soon as you end the live, everyone begins rushing out of your hotel room and down to the lobby to wait for the bus. hurriedly, you grab your backpack and make your way towards the door, but an eager hand pulls you back.

before you know it, a set of soft lips is placed against your own and two hands are glued to your waist. instead of jumping in surprise, you immediately melt into the kiss, finding comfort in your girlfriend's familiar embrace.

"sorry," she blushes once you pull away, "been wanting to do that all day."

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[sturncrazy]

CABINFEVER:

Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

(anyone else green)

warnings: SMUT!! nsfw 18+ (loss of virginity, unprotected + no pull out…assume ur on birth control)

authors note: love a little sweet smut matt moment 🫶 also imagine the world wasn’t falling apart and there was still snow 🤪 HOPE U GUYS LIKE THIS ONE!!

summary: you and a group of your friends rent an airbnb cabin up in the mountains for a winter get away, but it’s short on beds. You settle for a bench and Matt takes the couch next to you, but things heat up when you get cold…

word count: 2,915 W

—————————————————————————

“HOLY FUCK! it’s FREEZING out” yelled Nick slamming the door behind him. He was the last one inside the cabin and join the rest of you in stomping the snow off your shoes and hanging up various layers of winter-wear. You and a group of 7 of your friends decided to rent an airbnb up in the mountains in New Hampshire for a week to have a cozy vacation. You planned to sled, go on winter walks, make cookies and cozy drinks, play games, and just enjoy being together away from the rest of the world. The only problem was not all of you going had a budget like the triplets, Larray, and Madi. even though they offered to cover for the rest of you, it didn’t seem fair. so you settled on a slightly more quaint cabin instead of a big mansion. the catch was that there were only three bedrooms. You were always easy going and determined that everyone else be happy, so you had made peace with the fact that you’d probably end up on a couch long ago.

“so who’s gonna be living room buddies with me, huh?” you questioned.

“guess that would be me” said Matt, with a sheepish smile.

No surprise, really. Matt was an angel to everyone, so of course he’d be the first to say he’d take the undesirable sleeping spot. you grinned back at him, maybe a little too much. You’d been close to the triplets since you were kids, but Matt had always been your favorite. You related to his quieter side and always had a soft spot for him. A soft spot that went deeper than you wanted to admit in the last few years. Matt was always good looking, but lately something felt different…even though you’d never tell him that.

“i can live with that” you attempted to joke. The living room was beautiful, but large and drafty. there were a few armchairs, but only one oversized couch. next to it was a big window that had a little nook fitted with pillows.

“you take the couch, yn” Matt said, gesturing with his head.

“wha—no way. then where will you sleep?”

“I dunno i’ll figure it out don’t worry bout it. I’ll grab a beanbag or make a pile on the floor” he said blowing you off

“Nuh-uh. no way. you take the couch, i’ll sleep on that window thing”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah a hundred percent”

“Mmmm okay, but if you wanna switch at any point just tell me okay seriously” the genuine concern in his wide blue eyes made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. truth be told, you really didn’t mind this set up because you’d be sleeping just a few feet away from him.

“Deal” you smiled back at him.

The group of you had a perfect evening. it was like something out of a hallmark movie, but by 2am everyone was going to sleep. Matt showered upstairs, which gave you time to get ready for bed and throw on your lame excuse for sleepwear—an oversized tshirt that hung to just above your knees. you’d never wished you’d overpacked and brought shorts more. you tried to cover up your exposed skin with blankets as you heard creaking from the steps. Matt trotted down in flannel pants and a black tank, hair still damp and clinging to his face from the shower. seeing him like that made your throat grow dry.

“Y’tired?” Matt asked, arranging his pillows on the couch so that his head would be by yours, your bodies creating a right angle on their separate resting spots.

“eh, not really. you?”

“nah, not so much. bit of a night owl lately, i guess.” he said, sitting down and beginning to rummage through his bag. you laughed.

“name a time in your life you’ve ever been a morning person?” you teased

“hey shhh i could be if i tried.” he shook his bag vigorously

“shit. think i forgot my phone charger”

“oh i have one, you can use it” you said hopping up to grab your stuff. you strode across the room towards your suitcase without thinking, but suddenly felt heat on the back of your neck like you were being watched. you glanced back at Matt and just barely caught him staring at your bare legs before he quickly looked away. you’d completely forgotten about your choice of outfit and felt embarrassment flush your cheeks.

“here y’go” you said shoving the wires in his direction, avoiding his eyes.

“uh thanks” he said, with equal avoidance. you reached to turn off the last light in the room in hopes that would drown out the awkwardness. Before you knew it the two of you were laughing and chatting away in the strained moonlight leaking in from the window. This went on for about 20 minutes before the chill coming from outside started to get to you. your teeth chattered slightly. mid sentence, Matt halted.

“what’s wrong?”

“oh nothing, just a little breezy here, it’s fine”

“what? you can’t sleep there then! you’ll get sick!” his protective nature was borderline heart melting.

“Matt c’mon. I’m not that weak, i’ll be fine. I’m not making you sleep here”

“Then share the couch with me at least”

his offer caught you off guard and you paused for a second, processing before answering.

“you sure?” you asked, unsteadily. another small moment of silence. was he regretting what he’d offered?

“yeah, of course” You detected a small crack in his voice.

“I don’t wanna crowd you—“ he cut you off

“y/n it’s fine seriously, just c’mhere. it’s just me, don’t be weird.” he answered, sounding almost more like he was trying to convince himself than you. you crept over to the couch. Matt was on his side, already holding his blanket up with his arm to give you a spot to slide into. at first you laid down face to face with him.

“hey” he said quietly, inches from you. you smiled up at him. it made your heart race to see him from this angle, this close. you were sure he could hear your heartbeat if you stayed like this a second longer, so you rolled over so your back was to him. matt made a funny noise, almost like he was clearing his throat. your knees hung off the couch slightly, so you backed up to not fall off. Matt let out a strained cough.

“Matt are you okay? you sound like—“ you started to turn your head to face him, and inadvertently twisted your hips against his body. you felt his hand latch onto your waist, halting it. he winced and let out a small hiss

“y/n please” tumbled out of his lips, his whole body going stiff.

“Matt what’s wrong? I—“ suddenly you became away of a hardness pressing against your lower back and ass. your breathing hitched. Matt was hard. and you could feel it. Matt was hard and was pressing against you, hell it had been caused by you.

“oh my god” you whispered.

“fuck y/n i’m so sorry—holy shit. this is awful. i feel disgusting. i never wanna make you uncomfortable i—“ he began to babble sounding on the verge of tears

“Matt no—“ he rolled onto his back looking up at the ceiling. you turned onto your side to face him.

“No, y/n. this is so bad-oh god. i was worried this would happen, i mean being anywhere near you i’d worry about that, but i thought i could control myself and fuck i’m so sorry“

“wait what do you mean you worried?”

“come on, y/n. you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen. of course i’d worry, but you’re also one of my best friends so—“

“you think i’m beautiful?” matt paused and looked at you in the eye.

“are you joking, y/n?” you shook your head.

he took a deep breath before continuing.

“I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world” you exhaled rockily, scanning his eyes.

“and i can’t believe this is how i’m telling you that or i did anything to make you feel—“

“Matty, stop” you said, putting a hand lightly to his chest. it heaved at your touch.

“you didn’t do anything wrong, at all. i just never knew you saw me the way the way i see you”

“y’mean you—?” you bit your lip and smiled at him, nodding. he let out an exhale of relief and excitement and smiled back at you. he inched closer to your face, hesitantly.

“can i kiss you?” you nuzzled your nose slightly against his.

“yes, Matt” he leaned the rest of the way in and gently pressed his warm pillowy lips against yours. the feeling was better than you could’ve ever imagined. he pulled away, not wanting to seem too eager or pushy, and waited for you. you glanced from his eyes to his mouth before pushing back against him. this kiss was different from the last. there was fire and passion to it. your lips began to meld together, creating a rhythm as his hands reached for your waist. you wrapped an arm around his neck and ran your hand through his hair, which resulted in a huffing of air from his mouth into yours. his tongue slid against your bottom lip, asking for permission, which you immediately granted. you pressed your lower half against his. he grunted and squeezed your hip. smiling against your lips he rasped out

“careful there, problem from earlier is not exactly gone yet” your stomach flipped

“good” you breathed out, pressing your bodies flush again. he looked at you wide eyed, his pupils dilating, before diving in for the heaviest kiss yet. you lifted your leg up slightly, wrapping it around him. the move caused your shirt to slide up to the top of your hip. matt ran his hand up your thigh and gripped your ass causing you to let out a small whine. he bit at your lip slightly and used this new hold on your lower half to move himself between your legs further and on top of you. he pulled away from you to take off his shirt and you felt heat electrify your body at the sight of him uncovered in the weak blueish light. he smiled at you shyly before kissing you again. one strong hand began to trail over the sensitive skin of your stomach, up your shirt, sending ripples of buzzing through your body as the tips of his hand approached your braless chest. Matt ran his fingers delicately over your nipples, hardening at his slightly cold touch. you shuddered.

“can i take this off?” he said, tugging at the hem. you nodded vigorously and helped him pull it over your head, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. you fought the urge to cover yourself as his eyes engulfed the sight of you.

“god you’re so perfect” he almost moaned out. you giggled and tightened your legs around his lower half, encouraging him back down to you gently. the feeling of his warm bare chest against yours made you let out a sigh. he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, breathing hot warm air against your sensitive skin before gently sucking and pulling through his teeth. you whimpered into him, wrapping your hands back into his hair. he retaliated by starting to grind his hips against your heat, the feeling of his hard on painfully present. your two most desperate spots only separated by your underwear and his pj bottoms.

“Matt—“ you moaned out

“hmmmm?” he hummed into your neck. you needed him in ways you couldn’t explain. you squirmed beneath him. he pulled away to look at you and raise an eyebrow.

“what is it, beautiful?” he cooed, making you flustered. you pushed your hips back up at him, unable to come up with words.

“ohh i see” he chuckled out. you felt a flash of embarrassment and tried to cover your hands with your face. he grabbed your wrists lightly and lowered them.

“Want me to make you feel good, ma?” he said softly into your ear as he dragged his hand down your stomach and to the waistband of your underwear. you whimpered, desire crying out for contract between your legs. he lowered his fingers over the thin cloth that covered your pussy and dragged them up and down, giving you a teasing amount of friction.

“more, Matty, please” you cried out. he gingerly pushed the fabric aside and ran his fingers along your dripping folds

“god you’re so wet” he whispered out in awe, looking down at you , hungrily. he seemed almost in a trace, but the torment was too much for you. you grabbed his wrist and guided his hand, positioning his finger tips at your entrance. his breathing shallowed as he looked up at you while inserting his digits deep into your core. you became a mess as Matt continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them upwards expertly.

“fuck i could watch you like this forever” he panted

“mmmm feels—ss—so good, matt”

“god you don’t know what you’re doing to me, ma” your walls clenched at the thought of his hard length. you reached down between your bodies and palmed at his crotch. he let out a groan. his impressively large hard on throbbed under your touch, straining against his pants.

“oh my god, y/n” he mumbled, closing his eyes. you’d never seen anyone look so sexy before.

“Matt, I want you” you gasped, without thought. his eyes flickered open, his pupils were blown.

“Are—are you sure?” he said, struggling to breathe.

“I’m sure” Matt reached to untie his drawstring. you watched him, closely, as he loosed his pants and lowered them. your mouth watered at the sight of his large rock hard dick slapping against his stomach, the tip already dripping precum. he leaned back over you and began to line himself up with your entrance. nerves shot through your body.

“wait matt”

“what? whats wrong? should i stop?” he said, looking up at you with worry

“No, no definitely not, i—i just—i haven’t done this before?”

“Oh” he said smiling with relief

“Are you sure you want to? we can wait i’m fine to wait. i don’t wanna do anything you’re not ready for”

“NO!” you said a little too eagerly “I really want to” you finished shyly

“Okay” he chuckled. He realigned himself and gave you a gentle kiss

“This is probably gonna hurt a bit, okay? we can stop any time you want to” you nodded and he began to push his tip slowly into your entrance. you cried out at the feeling of him stretching your insides so much. he paused for a moment.

“do you want to stop?” he said sweetly

“No. keep going” you said wincing. he pushed himself to the base of his cock and moaned at feeling you completely around him. he slowly began to slide himself in and out of your pussy. the pain started to turn into pleasure.

“go faster, matty, please” he listened and began to pick up his pace, creating a delicious rhythm and hitting your sweet spot deep inside of you with each thrust. you let out a string of curses and cries at the sensation.

“fuck you feel so good around my dick, baby”

“oh god don’t stop”

“you like that, sweet girl”

“yes—fuck yes—i like it so much”

“you’re so fucking perfect, princess. god i love being inside of you”

“Matt—oh my god—fuck—I—“ you felt a tightening in the pit of your stomach as your buildup started to reach its peak.

“you gonna cum, sweetheart?” Matt lowered one of his hands to press on your lower stomach, where he was deep inside of you. your vision began to blur.

“Let go, baby. Cum for for me” your hearing buzzed and you saw flashes of white as you came undone. Your walls clenched around Matt’s cock causing his thrusts to become sloppy.

“fuck, gorgeous i’m close—where do you want me to—“ he panted out

“just keep going, matty” you cooed still coming down from your high

“wh—you-you sure?” he questioned fighting off his release

“yes, don’t stop. keep going for me”

“oh my ffu—god-yes—anything for you” he stuttered

“fuck baby i’m gonna cum”

“yeah? cum inside me, matty, please”

“OH GOD FUCK Y/N”

“i wanna feel you cum”

“OH—IM CUMMING—OH FUCK—“ Matt cried out thrusting into you, wildly. He halted deep inside you as he released hot spurts of his cum into your core. he collapsed, panting heavily. after a moment, he pulled out and quickly leaned back down to give you a kiss before reaching to grab you your shirt. you smiled at each other, sheepishly, as you got redressed. he pulled you tightly against him and ran his hand down the back of your head, soothingly.

“How was that?”

“Perfect” you mumbled into his chest, breathing him in.

“Yeah?” he chuckled into your hair. you nodded.

“I’d say so too.” he said.

“I’ve always dreamed of getting to hold you like this” he whispered

“really?”

“mhm”

“me too” he paused for a moment

“what would you think of maybe being something where we could always be like this?”

you pulled away to look at him and he grinned at you. you pulled him in for the biggest kiss you muster.

—————————————————————————

why am i gonna cry? WHY CANT THE MEN I MAKE UP IN MY HEAD BE REAL.

[chvoswxtch]

an adjustment

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: adjusting to a new normal with frank presents a few challenges, including one you thought you had put to rest.

warnings: swearing, lil angst, frank's voice (yes that needs a warning)

word count: 2.6k

a/n: a certain someone is making a cameo that will have a bigger role in the next chapter, but y'all know I love to tease. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

As much as the two of you wanted to stay in the cozy little bubble that existed in his cabin, reality had come knocking. Madani informed you that your place was no longer an active crime scene decorated in bodies, bullets, and blood, and Billy needed Frank for a new assignment. Some guy running for Senator had a lot of controversial opinions that pissed a bunch of people off and apparently warranted 24/7 security, and Anvil was at the top of his list for protection. Since Frank was the best at what he did, unfortunately he was at the top of that list too. Adjusting to a new normal had been…well…just that; an adjustment.

A difficult, confusing, thought consuming adjustment.

For over half of the past year, Frank had been by your side. You started and ended every single day with him. The sudden absence of his presence was jarring, and you still found yourself immediately confused when you glanced up from your computer screen to tell him something only to realize he wasn’t there. Frank didn’t always talk a whole lot, but your office suddenly felt so much more quiet and empty without him. And despite a full blown security system installed by him on your behalf, it was hard for you to feel safe in your own home with the lingering scars of what had happened etched into the walls beneath a layer of new paint. 

Frank called you at least once every day, just to hear your voice, but between both of your complicated schedules, time was not in your favor. You had spent the past three weeks adapting to Frank’s vacancy, but found yourself spiraling anytime you were left alone with your own thoughts. What if this was over before it had even really started? What if it wasn't anything anyway? There hadn’t been a moment for you and Frank to sit down and actually talk about what your relationship was since the cabin. You know what it meant to you, and you knew what you wanted it to mean to him, but you wanted to hear what it meant to him from his own mouth. 

A part of you felt childish for wanting to bring it up. What were you supposed to do? Send him a text saying “are you my boyfriend, check yes or no”? Another part of you felt valid in needing reassurance. It was reasonable to want to establish a relationship with someone you were dating. But were you and Frank dating? He hadn’t technically asked you out on an actual date, but he had risked his life to save yours on several occasions. That had to count for something. You hadn’t dated anyone seriously since Steven, and Frank was not only a widower, but also your former bodyguard, so the normal rules of dating felt like they had been completely thrown out the window.

A knock at the door abruptly pulled you out of your chaotically indecisive inner monologue, and you saw a guy that appeared to be fresh out of high school standing in the doorway of your office.

“You Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Uh yeah, that’s me. How can I help you?”

The kid took a few steps forward into your office and practically shoved a sealed brown envelope in your face. He looked bored and annoyed, as if you were somehow inconveniencing him because he had to deliver something to you. It made you want to make a snide comment about how your name was clearly listed outside your office door and ask how the hell he managed to graduate without the ability to read. 

“This is for you.”

Reaching for the envelope, your brows pinched together as you turned it over. There was nothing written on the front of it, no address, no name, not even a stamp.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, lady. I’m just the messenger. Open it and find out.”

Before you could reply with a smartass comment, the kid had already walked out of your office, leaving you alone with the mysterious brown envelope. Clenching your jaw, you refrained from chasing him down the hall and asking who the hell raised him. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you had to remind yourself that you were a grown woman that would face charges for decking a teenager, even if he was legal and a complete dick.

“Asshole.”

Muttering under your breath, you pinched the aluminum prongs together on the seal, flipping the top of the envelope open to reach inside and pull out a stack of documents. When you turned them over, five big bold letters instantly caught your attention.

LETTER OF INTENT TO SUE.

During your time as a journalist, people had threatened to sue you over stories several times. It came with the territory. The first time you had gotten a letter like this, you nearly had a complete meltdown. Ben had found it far more amusing than you did, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin on his face while sipping at his coffee and chuckling.

“Ah, I remember my first lawsuit letter. You get used to ‘em. You can either frame that one or forward that to the uh legal department. It’s in the blue recycling bin outside.”

And he had been right. People had tried to sue the paper, and you specifically, several times over the course of your career, but nothing ever actually went anywhere. You normally wouldn’t have thought twice about it, and you were about to toss it into the trash bin on the floor next to your desk when your eyes skimmed over who sent the letter, and your blood instantly began to sizzle.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Steven fucking Price.

Gritting your teeth harshly, you narrowed your eyes as you read over the first paragraph on the page.

This letter of intent to sue shall hereby be considered formal notice that STEVEN PRICE intends to file a lawsuit against you if you do not comply with the settlement demands set out in this letter.

The storm of anger brewing inside you had your hands shaking violently, and you were clutching onto the paper in your hands so tightly that your fingernails had left indents in the crinkled sides that were held captive in your vice grip. When Homeland took him away in custody, you thought that was the last you would ever have to deal with him or see him until the trial. But here he was, still making demands of you, from federal prison. 

Frank’s gruff voice sounded on the other end of the line after one ring before you even realized you had called him.

“He’s fucking suing me.”

“What? Who?”

“Steven.”

There was a brief shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and you faintly heard Frank mutter an “excuse me” before his deep baritone sounded once again in your ear.

“The hell you mean he’s suin’ you?”

“Some kid came and dropped off an envelope, who was a real dick by the way, and then I opened it and saw it’s a letter of intent to sue. I didn’t think anything of it at first because I get these all the time, but then I saw his fucking name.”

“Suin’ you for what though?”

Tossing the documents onto your desk, you began to pace back and forth in your office as you ran your hand through the roots of your hair in pure frustration.

“I don’t fucking know, a load of bullshit? I didn’t even read what his ‘demands’ were. He can’t…he can’t do that, right? I didn’t do anything.”

Pausing for a second, your hysterical rant subsided momentarily as one possible reason for a lawsuit popped into your head.

“I mean…I did punch him in the face. But he’s going to sue me for that? There’s no fucking way. Putting it on public record that a girl half his size punched him? His ego couldn’t handle it.”

“You did break his nose.”

“He fucking deserved it, I should’ve broken more.”

Frank’s deep chuckle of amusement sounded from the other end of the line, and it instantly made you forget what you were so pissed about for a brief moment.

“I ain’t disagreein’ with you there. Look, take a deep breath, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you closed your eyes for a moment and enjoyed the soft tone of Frank’s rough voice as you followed his gentle instruction. With your eyes closed, it was almost like he was there with you. Once Frank could hear your breathing even out a bit on the other end of the line, he spoke in a delicately low tone that had your toes curling in your shoes.

“Attagirl. Send me the letter and I’ll talk to Madani ‘bout it, yeah?”

“I don’t even have a lawyer-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that right now, alright? Just take another deep breath, relax, and let me handle it.”

“You’re always handling things.”

“That’s kinda my job, baby.”

One little pet name and you were blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Thankfully Frank wasn’t in your office at that moment to see the intense heat in your cheeks and the goofy smile splitting your lips. He would’ve definitely had a field day teasing you about it.

“You’re pretty good at your job. Maybe a little too good. If you were kinda sucky at it, everyone wouldn’t want you so bad.”

“The only one I want bad is you.”

A fluttering feeling erupted in your lower belly at those words, coupled with the way his voice had dropped an impossible octave lower, and you found yourself clutching at the edge of your desk to keep your knees from giving out right from under you. If Frank was here, you would’ve gladly let him bend you over it.

Clearing your throat, you attempted to change the subject before you got too worked up. 

“How’s the new guy?”

Grabbing the iced coffee sitting on your desk, you held it against the heated skin of your neck. Droplets of the cool condensation slowly cascaded down your flesh, causing you to shiver while trying to balance your internal temperature.

“Not as pretty as you.”

Letting out a soft snort, you rolled your eyes and leaned back against the edge of your desk.

“Well I would hope not.”

Frank chuckled deeply again, and you could clearly picture the look on his face in your mind; an expression of playful exasperation with a faint smirk on the edge of his soft lips.

“He’s more of a pain in the ass than you. Didn’t think that was possible.”

“You’re really great at this whole flirting thing, you know that?”

The dry sarcasm in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Frank, and it tore a deeper laugh from low within his chest that made you grin.

“Hey, I been outta practice for a while. Gimme a break.”

“Speaking of flirting, how’s Billy?”

“He’s uh…he’s good.”

Something about Frank’s tone suddenly seemed off, and you wanted to ask him about it, but there was a faint rustling on the other end of the line, like Frank was pressing the speaker against his chest, and you could barely make out his muffled voice speaking to someone. When he lifted his phone back to his ear, you caught the end of a deep sigh.

“Listen I uh…I gotta go, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, me too.”

That was a lie. You didn’t have anything pressing deadlines at the moment. You would’ve stayed on the phone for the rest of the day with Frank if you could’ve, maybe convinced him to sneak away and come see you. He was still in New York, luckily, but anywhere that wasn’t right next to you was still too far. 

“Send me the letter. I’ll talk to Madani and take care of it, alright?”

“Okay. I…thank you.”

“You ain’t gotta thank me.”

“You keep saying that, but then you keep giving me reasons to. So, we can have this argument until eventually you give up I guess.”

Frank chuckled deeply once more, and you could picture him in your mind shaking his head with a light grin. He sounded normal again, but you made a mental note to ask him about what was really going on when you spoke to him next.

“Same time tomorrow then, yeah?”

»»———　　———««

According to Madani, Steven didn’t have a case, and you technically had nothing to worry about. However, you were admittedly curious about what the hell he wanted, and Frank had said that if you did want to go talk to Steven, he would go with you. Actually, he respectfully insisted that you not see Steven without him present, and while you didn’t want to see Steven at all, you did want to see Frank.

You suffered through almost three years with Steven. You could suffer another five minutes if it meant you got to spend time with Frank.

It wasn’t your first time visiting a prison. A few years ago when you were still working with Ben, he had been interviewing a death row inmate that had been declaring innocence for fifteen years, and Ben had managed to prove that the evidence for his case had been tampered with and that the man had been telling the truth the entire time. Despite how daunting it felt to be in a place that kept violent people caged like animals, you felt safe with Ben then, much like you did with Frank now.

Currently, you were pacing back and forth down the hallway in pure irritation.

“What is taking so long?”

Frank had his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall outside of the meeting room that was typically reserved for inmates and their lawyers. The guard had said he would bring Steven in shortly, but that was twenty minutes ago. Since Frank had met you at the prison, and due to all the prying eyes, you hadn’t had a private moment to do more than smile at him when he arrived. It was the first time you were able to see him in person in three and a half weeks, and he somehow looked even more attractive than he ever had, and you were being forced to endure an interaction with your ex, who tried to have you killed, just to get Frank alone.

It was torture.

“Told ‘em we’re waitin’ on your lawyer.”

Pausing mid-step, you glanced over at Frank with a look of complete puzzlement.

“I don’t have a lawyer, I told you that.”

As Frank turned his head to look at you, he suddenly lifted his gaze to stare directly above your head as someone behind you caught his eye. He stood up straight and uncrossed his arms as he gestured with his chin in the direction behind you.

“You do now.”

With your brows knit in threads of confusion towards the center of your forehead, a light tapping sound behind you caused your ears to perk up, and you turned your head to find the source of the noise and Frank’s attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, my name is Matthew Murdock. I’m your attorney.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[paigebueckersloverr]

Three's A Crowd

This is a multiple part story. This chapter does not have smut. But the next one does, so stay tuned and feel free to critique. I am always open to suggestions and overall thoughts. Thank you.

Stream of the Day: Novacane 🤍

Contents: Paige And The Reader Attend Paige's After-Game Homecoming Party. Where Reader Finally Meets The Infamous Laliah A Former Flame And Now Friend Of Paige's. Which puts both the reader and paige on edge as laliah makes no mistake in letting paige know she still thinks of her.

THINGS TO KNOW: The Reader Is Black As I Am A Black Girl.

Although, Paige Takes On More Of A Switch Role? Sorry, Yall She's Not Getting Dicked Down...For Now.....

Warnings: Kissing, Fingering, Swearing, Vibrating Strap, Breeding, Degration, Praise, Groping, Possesive Reader, Suggestive Language, Possesive Paige, Jealous Reader, Jealous Paige,* I can't think of anything else right now. * COMING SOON!!!

Word Count - 1.6k MEN And MINORS DNI

☆ Salem's Thoughts ☆

This Story is purely fictional I have no personal relation to anyone mentiond. And I have no malicious or weird intent when writing. These fanfictions are purely for enjoyment and obsessed girls like me.

☆ Salem's Final Thoughts ☆

Please be mindful I'm a little rusty at writing as I haven't Written serious fanfiction. Since my wattpad days, I'm Also dyslexic so read at your own risk.

Paige’s after-game homecoming party was in full swing, the living room pulsating with laughter and music, but all the sound seemed to fade as I laid eyes on Laliah. She was standing by the kitchen counter, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders as she leaned in close to Paige, their shared history palpable in the way they moved. As I walked closer, I could see the flicker of recognition in Paige’s eyes, a mix of nostalgia and unease. Laliah's smile was warm yet carried an edge, her gaze lingering on Paige longer than necessary, making it unmistakably clear that old flames still flickered in her heart.

Earlier That Day....

I sighed as I finally turned off the alarm set for 8:15 AM, groaning softly as I pushed myself out of bed. The morning light filtered through the curtains of our hotel room in Minnesota, where Paige was born and bred, her dream of becoming a UConn Husky now a reality. Her family had moved away a year and some change after she left for Storrs, but Minnesota still held a special place in her heart. I moved quietly around the room, gathering Paige’s bags for practice and the upcoming game.

The city was buzzing with excitement, the air thick with anticipation for the game. Paige and Laliah, once formidable teammates at Hopkins, were now playing on different teams, and their reunion on the court was the talk of the town. This trip was a homecoming of sorts, and the shared history between Paige and Laliah added an extra layer of intrigue to the event. Little did they know paige and laliah shared more than a court together.

Later that day, after the game, the real test would come at the after-game party, where I knew I’d finally meet the infamous Laliah, a former flame and now friend of Paige’s. The thought of Laliah’s presence set me on edge, knowing she still harbored feelings for Paige. With a deep breath, I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on getting everything ready for Paige’s big day.

Paige stirred in bed, her eyes fluttering open as she sensed my movement. She stretched and then sat up, her expression a mix of excitement and anxiety. "I'm nervous about the game," she admitted softly, running a hand through her hair. "It’s been a while since I’ve played in front of a hometown crowd, and with Laliah on the other team..."

I walked over to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and pressing a light kiss to her forehead. "You’ve got this, my love. You’ve trained so hard, and everyone here knows what an amazing player you are." I smiled, trying to infuse my voice with confidence. "Plus, it’s just another game. You’ve faced tougher challenges."

She smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Thanks. I just...I want to make everyone proud."

"You will," I assured her, then hesitated before continuing. "And about meeting your former teammates tonight...I’m a little nervous too. Especially about Laliah."

Paige's smile faded slightly, and she nodded. "I know. It’s complicated, but you’re the one I’m with now. She’s just a friend."

"I trust you, my love," I replied, squeezing her shoulder gently and running my fingers through her hair. "But it’s still a bit intimidating, you know? Meeting people who’ve known you for so long and finally seeing Laliah after everything..."

"We’ll get through it together," Paige said, her voice steadier now. She leaned in, giving me a soft kiss. "Just focus on the game for now. We’ll deal with the rest later."

After reassuring Paige, we finished getting ready and headed to the arena. The drive was filled with quiet moments of hand-holding and exchanged glances, a mix of excitement and underlying nerves. As we pulled up, the bustling energy of the city was evident, fans already gathering in anticipation of the game.

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was electric, teammates greeting Paige with enthusiasm. I found a spot in the stands, the sea of familiar faces reminding me of just how significant this game was. The crowd erupted in cheers as the teams took to the court, and I spotted Laliah warming up on the other side, her presence a stark reminder of the evening to come.

As I scanned the crowd from my seat in the stands, my eyes eventually landed on Laliah. She stood out effortlessly, her presence commanding attention without even trying. Her dark curls framed her face in a cascade of effortless elegance, and her smile, though warm, held a hint of mystery. Dressed in her vibrant mustard yellow and worn leather red uniform , she exuded confidence and grace.

Beside me, Paige's family chatted excitedly, her mom waving enthusiastically at every point Paige scored. Her dad and stepmother watched intently, their pride evident in every cheer and applause. Paige's two little brothers were bouncing in their seats, their energy contagious, while her little sister sat quietly, eyes fixed on the game with a thoughtful expression.

The game was intense, both teams playing with unmatched vigor. Paige moved with a grace and determination that made my heart swell with pride. Each basket, each defensive move, showcased her dedication and skill. But it was impossible to ignore Laliah's equally impressive performance, the chemistry between them on full display even as opponents.

Amidst the excitement, I couldn't help but steal glances at Laliah, her interactions with the crowd and the game itself a fascinating study. Despite the history between her and Paige, there was an air of familiarity and respect in the way she engaged with everyone around her.

Paige's family, oblivious to the significance of Laliah's presence, continued to cheer and celebrate each play with infectious enthusiasm. As the final buzzer sounded and uconn emerged victorious, the crowd erupted in cheers, and I quickly rushed down to meet her. She wrapped me in a tight hug, her face glowing with the thrill of victory.

"We did it," she whispered, her voice breathless.

"You were amazing, my love," I said, kissing her cheek. "Absolutely amazing." She said as she spun us around and cheered. In the locker room, amidst the jubilant cheers and high-fives, Paige and i shared a quiet moment of celebration, her arms wrapped tightly around me as we basked in the euphoria of victory.

After the locker room celebrations, Paige and I retreated to our hotel room to get ready for the party. As Paige changed into her usual attire—a black button-down shirt paired with loose trousers—I opted for a more toned-down look, slipping into a sleek yet understated dress that accentuated my curves in all the right places.

As I smoothed down the fabric of my dress, Paige sauntered over, a playful smirk playing on her lips. "You know, I think I prefer you in less clothing," she teased, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind.

I chuckled, leaning back into her embrace. "Oh really? And here I thought you were all about the mystery."

She nuzzled into the crook of my neck, planting soft kisses along my collarbone. "I like a little mystery, but I also like knowing what's underneath," she murmured, her voice low and suggestive.

A shiver ran down my spine at her words, the familiar heat of desire igniting between us. "Well, lucky for you, you've already unwrapped this package," I replied, turning to face her with a playful grin.

Paige chuckled, her eyes darkening with desire as she pulled me closer. "And what a delightful surprise it was," she murmured, capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

As we finally made our way to the party, the playful banter between Paige and me took on a tense edge, each teasing remark and stolen glance fueling the simmering jealousy between us. The air crackled with unspoken tension, our insecurities festering beneath the surface like a wound that refused to heal.

As we mingled amidst the crowd, Paige's gaze lingered on Laliah for a moment too long, and a surge of Jealousy with a hint of anger ignited within me. "Can we talk?" I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her aside with a firm grip on her arm.

Paige's eyes flashed with frustration, her own insecurities about the night finally bubbling to the surface. "What now?" she snapped, her tone sharp and defensive.

"It's about her, isn't it?" I accused, my voice trembling with anger and hurt. "You can't deny that there's something between you and Laliah."

Paige's jaw tensed, her expression defensive. "She's just a friend, damn it!" she spat, her voice laced with frustration. "Why can't you trust me?"

But trust was a fragile thing, easily shattered by the lingering stares and whispered conversations that passed between them. "Because it feels like I'm competing with her for your attention!" I shot back, my voice rising in desperation.

As our argument escalated, the tension between us reached a boiling point, our words a painful reminder of the growing rift between us. And amidst the chaos, Laliah approached, her presence casting a shadow over our already strained relationship.

We soon put the argument to rest, realizing that no one would come out happier than when we entered. In Paige's attempt to reassure me, she gently guided me over to Laliah, attempting to make introductions. Despite the lingering tension, Paige's gesture was a small but significant step towards easing the palpable unease that hung in the air. As we approached Laliah, I felt a surge of apprehension coursing through me, unsure of how the encounter would unfold. Nevertheless, I squared my shoulders and forced a polite smile, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

"Laliah, this is..." Paige began, her voice trailing off as she glanced uncertainly at me, her hand still clenched in mine.

"Y/N, her girlfriend and secretary on occasion. I interrupted, my tone cool and clipped. As I smiled softly and reached out for a handshake, which she returned steadfastly, "I've heard a lot about you."

Laliah's lips curled into a knowing smirk, her gaze flickering between Paige and me with a hint of amusement. "Likewise," she replied, her voice smooth as silk. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you both."

[welcomehomeincorrectquotes]

Mafia AU:

Julie: Why do they call it a SEVEN-layer cookie?

Frank: *watches Julie carefully before realising she's serious* ...because there's seven layers to it.

Julie: I only see three!

Frank: Look closely.

Julie: ...

Frank: ...

Julie: I still see three... Is this a test?

Frank: The chocolate and the jelly count as layers.

Julie: O o h .

Frank: ...

Julie: *while chewing the cookie* Were there any Italian Mathematicians?

Frank: *gives her the look again before counting off his fingers* Da Vinci... Galileo... Fibonacci...

Julie: Hm. *shrugs* Never heard of them.

Eddie: *cheerfully* Ya know, if you stack two of these bad boys together... *holds two cookies together like a sandwich* it becomes a FOURTEEN-layer cookie!

Julie: *gasps in awe* You're a genius!

Frank: *wondering why he loves these idiots*

[thesparklingwriter]

taking fate into one's own hands

06—understanding

Word count: 1.6k

navi | taglist | masterlist

“The harbour.” you say quickly. “I’d like to see the harbour.” 

Morax smiles tentatively and nods. “Alright. That can be arranged. I shall return in an hour.”

You nod and close the door behind you, breathing a sigh of relief. Your relief quickly dissipates as you look at the clothes in your hands. Surely, all these items can't just be for one outfit, right? You turn to Alanna, but she’s gone—she must have slipped out while you were talking to the king.

You lay each piece out on your bed and try to figure it out. It seems you have three pieces per outfit here, which is a relief, but even with that, you have no idea what goes where. Where on Teyvat did Alanna go?

You sigh at the colours on your bed, and instead of fretting over how to wear them, you decide to take a soak in your tub to ease your mounting nerves. Perhaps you are being a little stubborn. It’s frustrating, not knwoing exactly where you stand. Morax’s words must be true, for you do not have proof otherwise, but even so. This arrangement is confusing. But Alanna’s words ring out in your head, and if your being here is for your own good somehow, it would not hurt to make a friend out of the king.

You leave your bath, resolved to be cordial to the Morax, as he has been to you. Perhaps if you do not question him too much, he will naturally reveal the information you wish to know. Alanna has returned from her excursion, having discovered the secrets of traditional Liyuean dress on her travels. She explains each layer to you, even though she knows you will use it as an excuse to give her a break whenever you get dressed for an outing. With each word, she notices the way you visibly relax, and when you say you want to wear the brown set, a colour associated with not only Liyue, but the ruler himself, she does not flinch, nor question you. With a simple nod and barely leashed smile, she puts herself to work.

Morax, on the other hand, finds himself somewhat unsettled. During negotiations, he had been promised a placid and pleasant princess, and so far you had only proved one of those things to be true. Despite your stubbornness, you are pleasant to be around. Much more pleasant than most of the dignitaries he has found himself in company with recently. But he had not been informed of your intelligence, and he now realises that it may cause him some strife. Although he has finished all the tasks he planned for today, he finds himself at his desk once again, reading through requests from his people and noting down the things he finds most important in order to forget his future arrangements with you. 

“I am glad the two of you are getting along. It may do you well to have a friend.” Xiao says as he enters the room. 

Morax makes a sound that bears an uncanny resemblance to a snort. “I would suggest you wait before firing off the celebratory lights.”

“Always the pessimist.”

“I assume you mean realist. Be frank with me, Xiao. there’s no way that you truly believe she will not find fault in her parent’s reasoning.” Your parents had essentially resigned themselves to death in sending you here, and despite everything, morax can't bear to tell you the truth. 

“I believe she will appreciate your honesty.”

“Why do I continue to discuss this topic with you?”

“Why does the sun rise in the east and set in the west?”

Morax stares at the prince blankly. The prince stares back. 

~~~

“Did you find the chance to read that letter from your parents?” Alanna asks you as she finishes tying a bow out of the ribbons on your clothes. You sigh as you glance over at your desk, the worn paper and the blue-green seal utterly out of place in the luxurious room. 

“I haven’t found the time to.” a lie so preposterous that you cannot even bring yourself to conceal it. You have all the time in the world, but looking at that letter would make it seem like it’s slipping from your fingers. It’s too much for you to face. “And I am afraid of what is inside.”

You look up from your nails as Alanna silently pushes the letter towards you, and you sigh. “Alright.”

Reading the letter fills you with questions, and you resolve to ask Morax about them. What is this hidden threat that your parents cannot talk about, but seem to be so afraid of? He will tell you whatever he knows, no matter what it takes. You will make sure of it.

“Your Highness,”

“I am fine, Alanna. I simply wish to go to the harbour already. This room is suddenly feeling cramped.”

“Understood.” Alanna says quietly. Even though she knows your wors weren’t a subtle hint of her to move—as many would interpret it as—she excuses herself anyway. To where? You do not know.

You read over your letter, once, twice, thrice, and no new discoveries come to light. You parents had become more secretive as time went on, but you never imagined they could reach these heights.

A knock on your door drags you out of these thoughts, and you pull yourself together as you approach the door. You expect to see a member of the palace help, but no, it is Morax, with his hair untied once again, thick silky ribbons of it falling over his shoulders. You can’t quite tell if you’re staring or not. On the other hand. Morax is acutely aware of the fact he’s staring at you. Maybe it's the determination in your eyes or the fact that you're wearing his colours… He never would have expected it to cause such a response in him.

He would never deny your beauty, but amidst the turbulence of your first few days here, he might have found himself too preoccupied with thoughts of frustration to really look at you properly. And now he has the chance to; he seems to be enjoying it more than he should reasonably allow himself to.

He clears his throat, and you jump ever so slightly, covering it up with a stubborn cough.

“I thought you might like a brief tour of the palace before we head toward the harbour. I am told you forewent the tour originally. I’m sure it is stifling, always being in your room.”

You want to scold him for making assumptions, but he is correct, and Alanna’s words ring through your head again. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to make a friend.’

So, you steel your face, and you smile. “Alright.”

Morax finds himself somewhat shocked at how easily you agreed. No contest, no look of exasperation… he’s about to question whether you’re feeling well before you speak up.

“I fear I might have been impolite,” You say as you walk down a particularly boring flight of stairs. Despite the fact it was his idea, the king has been relative vague in his descriptions of each room. He seems to only be showing you the things you might find interesting—the library, the gardens, the steam rooms and the pools. He walks at a steady pace, slow enough for you to take the time to take in each room, even though you can tell he normally walks faster. It's this steady pace that allows you to notice the slight stutter in his steps at your apology.

“That is alright. I understand the situation is tense for you. I do not begrudge you for it at all.”

This time, it's you who pauses.  “I don’t understand you.”

“You have made that point very clear. I appreciate your transparency.” You’re sure you're making it up, but there’s a slight tone of mirth in his voice. “I’m afraid there is nothing else of interest here. Shall we head to the harbour? Around this time of year, the clothing stalls get new fabrics, and jewellers receive the best stones. If you crave any foods from home, i’m sure we might find one or two.”

You exit the palace through the doors you came through when you first arrived. A soldier at the gates nods his head to the king, but otherwise, there isn’t much fanfare. How can a king roam his own nation without any guards? You fight the urge to question his newfound friendliness, as he hasn't questioned you on yours and strangely enough, you are enjoying this. Even if it is only a little bit. 

“You have sunsettias here?”

“Not that I know of. However, our harvest was bountiful this year and we often trade our surplus with other nations. I’m sure there will be vendors with sunsettias to spare.”

“I'm sure that when faced with their king, many vendors would find themselves stocking regional specialities from other nations.”

“I think you’ll find that a decent number of my people do not recognise the king when he is taking a casual stroll.”

“If I were to walk the street at home, I doubt my people would recognise me either,” you reply. It is only a passing comment, one that flies out of your mouth before you can stop it, but Morax seems to catch the melancholy undertones. The letter from your parents flashes in your mind, and instead of feeling frustrated, you just feel a little sad. Your parents clearly feel hopeless about something they cannot share with you, and it hurts.

“I am sorry you had to leave.” Morax replies quietly. “I do not know how I would fare away from home. You have my condolences.”

You nod in response. Silence falls between you as you continue your leisurely stroll to the harbour.

notes: reader losing her mind every time Zhongli has his hair down is my fave part of this series and DEFINITELY has nothing to do with me hahahahhaahahaha

anyway it's so nice to be back I missed it here

Taglist: @tartigglez @ainescribe @blue-sapphire-ink

[exhaustedcatte]

Are we doing this here? (yes)

Remus ran his sweaty palms over his suit, which did nothing to dry them off given that the material was very silky.

“My god, Lily, you should’ve asked someone else to sub in,” Remus muttered balefully.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, accent thick – it only ever came out when she was nervous. “You made bigger numbers than Susan when you filled in for her last time.”

“I wish I was knee deep in editing instead,” he said, just to keep the banter going.

Remus wasn’t mad about Lily asking him to fill in for her co-worker, mainly because the carpet they were on was for a Period Era film whose book had him crying for days. No, he was just very out of depth being in front of a camera and not a screen. Besides, this must be what people call Nepotism. Remus was simply an editor, who cuts clips out and makes a nice video out of it. Lily, who’d pulled strings to get Snarky little Remus Lupin out here, did so with the intention of getting him to do some networking.

“No, you don’t, not when Black will be here,” she replied knowingly.

She knew too much, honestly. Lily simply barked a laugh when he told her that.

He tried to settle his nerves by doing a headcount of the reporters on the carpet. He thought he might reach Nirvana once he’d counted upto the 90 mark, but his cameraman starts clicking the little button with such force, Remus is startled out of the ‘counting sheep to sleep’ method he was using.

“Oh my god,” Lily applied her lipstick hastily. “Remus! Remus that’s Dame Minerva McGonagall.”

He bit his lip, trying to contain his own excitement. “Who gets her?”

They were both under the same network, it would make no sense for both of them to interview her with similar questions.

“Do you… do you want it?” Lily asked.

Remus saw the generosity in her offering her role model to him. “Of course not, Lils. I was only pulling your leg.”

She punched his arm. “I was about to replace you with Frank.”

Remus’ cameraman, Frank Longbottom, popped his head from behind the huge camera, “Oh, piss off.”

Minerva strode into their section after getting her photographs taken. Remus stepped away in awe. He’d never been so close to anyone famous, well excluding his one boyfriend – who wrote three love songs about him and then dumped him after the songs blew up. They’d been together at the cusp of his fame. Remus squashed the thought of Caradoc Dearborn, the nation’s favourite Pop Artist, according to Daily Prophet.

“Miss Minerva,” Lily smiled brightly, “you look lovely. Might I know who you’re wearing?”

“Why, you look beautiful yourself,” the woman smiled. “This was a work of Pandora Lovegood.”

“It looks stunning,” Lily reiterated sincerely. She segued into her question smoothly with, “The pantsuit must’ve been easier to wear than traditional Victorian outfits, right?”

“Oh yes,” she nodded. “Many, many layers.”

“This film is also your comeback after two years, how does it feel?”

They’re lucky they secured the entry spot on the carpet, because the other interviewers are likely to ask the same questions as these actors progress down the line.

“It’s very special. I’ve known the director, James Potter, for a few years now and working with him has been lovely because he really eased me into it,” Minerva spoke fondly of James Potter and it was all but a miracle that Lily’s knees didn’t give out judging by the dizzy expression that overtook her smile when her celebrity crush was name dropped. (Remus knew Lily as well as she knew him, so it was never a disadvantage really.)

“The trailer also broke records, have you got any anecdotes to spare about scenes that have been revealed?”

Minerva pondered for a few. “I found it very difficult to chase Sirius around set when he thought dropping seeds on my hat was a good idea. I almost had a pigeon infestation on me.”

“Did you have to run in the gown?” Lily laughed good-naturedly.

Remus also had to hold back a snort at the vivid image of the Dame running behind Sirius Black and a flock of pigeons trailing her.

“Running after him was a personal choice, it wasn’t a shot for the movie,” the actress said primly, making everyone laugh again.

“I wish the movie great success, it was lovely meeting you,” Lily bade her goodbye.

Minerva smiled once again before heading over to the next reporter.

“How was I?” Lily asked.

“Good, but a touch too nervous maybe,” Remus offered honestly.

“Okay.” She spotted Slughorn making his way over to them and straightened, “It’s go time.”

The old veteran was suited up in boring grey slacks and a grey suit jacket with a plain white shirt under. Remus wished there were less boring men’s outfits on the carpet, at least then it’d make it interesting for him to edit these things, it would provide great gossip material.

Lily breezed through the next couple interviews, trying to shuffle her questions between them to make it less monotonous for both parties.

When Narcissa Malfoy finally sashayed away, Lily slugged half of Remus’ ginger lemon tea. “This thermos is god sent, the tea is so warm.”

“I know. It was Caradoc’s last christmas present. But it’s so good, I couldn’t justify throwing away just because he was a shit ex.”

“His money anyway,” Lily winked. Her voice sounded too hoarse.

“Want me to go?” Remus asked.

Her shoulders slumped, a bit relieved. “I would appreciate that.”

Remus steadied his mind, just a few questions and that’s all there was. You can do this, you got this, it’s just a few minutes and – Holy fucking god.

Marlene McKinnon stepped out of her car in a sequinned dress, thigh high slit and tall pumps.

Remus managed to snag her first out of the sea of interviewers.

“Good evening,” he smiled. “You look gorgeous, very old Hollywood.”

Her blonde hair was pinned up, lips painted blood red, mole under her eye, black sequinned dress glimmering in the flashes of the cameras.

“Thank you so much, but I have to thank Fortescue for this.”

Her ability to understand cues was very well appreciated by Remus.

“I must say, your role in the movie seems to be rather demanding psychologically,” Remus started off strong, “judging by the book and the trailer, of course.”

Marlene blinked away her surprise fast. Women were usually not asked about their character’s personalities very often.

“Harriet is a bit of a character,” she said eagerly. “She’s too strict on herself and clearly a bit emotionally constipated,” Marlene laughed.

“Was it difficult to recover from that kind of a role?”

“It was,” Marlene’s surprise bled into her voice. “Harriet’s strictness with herself often translated into her constantly picking herself apart so my confidence did see it’s ups and downs.”

“And she’s also Irish!“ Remus redirected towards something lighthearted. “How was working the accent for you?”

“I’m so used to London, it took a lot of work to get my pronunciation as close to a native as I could,” she admitted sheepishly.

Remus grinned, watch pulsating silently on his wrist. “Well, Harriet, I wont keep you long, for your duties call you elsewhere.”

“Wow,” Marlene laughed, “you’re better than Sirius, man!”

“I wouldn’t make it past auditions, Marlene,” he deadpanned.

She giggled. “Give yourself some credit. Sirius only remembered his dialogues when he had to whinge about me.”

Remus shifted back, on his hip, “Harriet, dear, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Marlene guffawed, “Oh, you’re good.” She waved as she was led away.

Remus didn’t get a refractory period when the next actor swarmed in.

After six successful interviews Remus started to loosen up. He managed to land a few jokes based on the knowledge of the actors and their characters.

“Are you the interviewer that Marls said I had to meet?”

Remus turned around.

Sirius Orion Black.

He was wearing proper Victorian attire. A ruffled white blouse, a midnight blue paisley vest with gold embroidery, charcoal slacks and tailcoat. His hair was tied back with a gold ribbon. God. He looked delectable.

Remus’ brain sent pure dumb into his head and he fish-mouthed. “You cut quite a figure in that suit.”

“It’s an Ollivander custom,” Sirius grinned, eyes shining. Oh, his smile. “I see you’re dressed to star alongside me too!”

Remus cracked a smile. No one had commented on his commitment to the part yet. He was also similarly in Victorian garbs, but he decided to take a simpler route by thrifting and sewing them himself.

“It’s a Remus Lupin special,” he said. After a pause, he motioned to himself, and added, “I’m Remus Lupin.”

“You’ve got quite the talent in suit making, Lupin. Want to make one for me next time?” Sirius leaned in close. Remus could smell the decadent notes of vanilla and coffee in his perfume.

“I’m not all that talented,” Remus said modestly. “I might be better at taking a suit off than putting it on you.”

What the hell am I doing? On Broadcast! Oh, he’s so fired. Lily pinched his arm from behind.

But Sirius Black grinned widely, very obviously looking him up and down, “You certainly have the permission.”

Remus smirked. “Alright now, let’s keep it media-friendly. Tell us, Sirius, you’ve taken on the role of Sir Fitzwilliam Grey, who is notoriously difficult. What was being such a frustrating man like?”

“Frustrating,” Sirius laughed. “He definitely was written well, but boy, he got on my nerves a bit.”

Remus also smiled, agreeing, “It’s true, the book almost made me pull my hair out.”

“You can pull my hair instead,” Sirius winked.

Remus swallowed, before smiling brightly. “Ah, but I don’t put out until the fourth date at least.”

Sirius snorted, “I was talking about braiding my hair.”

“Mm, either ways, I am good with my hands.”

Sirius hid his face in his palms, shoulders shaking with laughter. Remus felt proud of himself for making this man laugh. God, he looked really beautiful.

“So,” he cleared his throat at Frank’s pointed gaze. “James Potter is your best friend and this isn’t your first production together. But you mentioned this project was very close to you, why so?”

“I grew up in a family like Grey’s, so I could understand why he behaved the way he did – I was much like him until I met James. So now I’m not welcome home anymore,” Sirius snickered lightly. This news was known to the public for a while, but it was still a sore subject.

“You’re welcome to my home anytime,” Remus winked, trying to make it lighter on the viewers.

This time, Sirius actually blushed. “I’ll make a note of that.”

“Your first film was also a period era movie, was it nostalgic going back to your roots, in a sense?”

“A little. I was too nervous to experience everything the first time, so this felt like redemption,” Sirius said. Then he broke into a jive, “Redemption is leaving the man you dreamed of~”

Jesus. Caradoc Dearborn through the mouth of Sirius. But Sirius had a really nice voice, rich and robust.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I keep singing that song, must be because I’ve been hearing it a lot on the radio.”

“Yeah, me too,” Remus said stiffly. Lily snorted into her palm.

“Oh?”

“Er, my ex… he was a huge fan of, um, Caradoc Dearborn,” Remus felt his eye twitch.

“Oh.”

“He’s my ex,” Remus shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. If he left you, then he was probably a right Fitzwilliam Grey, eh,” Sirius giggled. “Or like, Earl Grey. A bit basic.”

“You’re right.” He leaned in a bit, heart jumping when Sirius mirrored his action. “I much prefer it Black.”

Sirius’ ears were slowly getting red, probably like his own. “Everyone likes black tea, Remus.”

“We all have good taste,” Remus nodded importantly, willing himself to stand his ground.

His watch beeped, breaking the moment. “Oh, we’ve run out of time. Have you got any last remarks?��

“I hope you watch the movie,” he said to the camera. “And let me know how it is,” he turned to Remus.

“Well, it has been a pleasure to talk to you Mr Black,” Remus smiled his professional smile.

“You too, Remus,” Sirius said softly. “I will see you sometime.”

That sounded like a promise if he’d ever heard one.

Sirius strode away, but Remus noticed him peeking back at where he was stood.

“What on Earth was that Remus?” Lily squealed. “How can we possibly use this footage?!”

“We can, I think. It’s guaranteed views, Lils,” Frank interjected.

Remus blushed. “Sorry, I don’t know what got over me.”

“Thinking with the wrong organ, most likely,” Lily muttered, but she sounded too fond and too impressed to be mad.

“Most likely,” Remus echoed, once again on the receiving end of The Sirius Black smile.

His phone rang six times before he even considered picking it up.

“Hey,” he croaked. “I met the deadlines and uploaded it yesterday evening.”

Lily, who had been pestering him to get the interview out before the movie’s first day, didn’t utter a word.

“Lils?”

“Have you seen the comments?”

Oh, god.

Remus sat up in his bed, blankets falling in a pool around his naked torso. “Should I?”

“Yes.”

He pulled up the video, and immediately was stunned by the 2.3 million views on it. “Holy shit?”

“Read the comments, lad.”

laralare: um id tap his ass too sirius, get in line

beyzoz: not in front of my saladfsusjro?!

flour: am i jealous of sirius or remus lupin?

patricknorth: 6.57 im gay now

gillian: look at the eYES sirius makes when remus mentions his ex!!

hollyhollyday: the blatant flirting?! jail. my single ass is sobbing at 2am

freyja: i like lupin. we need him on more carpets.

doorathea: sirius looks so hot, id hit too. so yeah, remus was just being gay, not unprofessional.

Remus laughed incredulously at the number of comments in support of this tomfoolery.

“Now, Remus, I want you to breathe and go on Twitter.”

“Lily!”

Twitter was flooded with trends. About Him. And Sirius. Together.

#remusirius

#sirius black flirting

#remus lupin

Remus found many tweets – mostly laughing at the pair and dissecting the interaction. But it had felt so natural even to Remus so he had left it in, thinking it was amusing. Clearly everyone agreed.

The topmost tweet however.

SiriusBlack:

Last night was one of my favourite nights ever. I hope tonight you all can enjoy the movie too. Dress victorian, thrift and sew your outfits, have some fun!(a borrowed idea) when in rome, do as the romans do, (or is when in remus more apt? lol) enjoy!!

Remus screamed into his phone, blushing at the innuendo.

“His publicist loves you or hates you.”

“Let’s hope she’s obsessed with me, because.”

“Uh oh, Remus. Remus, what are you doing?”

“Nothing!”

RJLupin: im going to the movie w my best friend this weekend.

SiriusBlack: oh he’s in my dms now

RJLupin: too presumptuous?

SiriusBlack: the right amount i think.

text me here– xxx

“Remus…?”

“Might’ve scored a date with Fitzwilliam.”

“Remus! Caradoc could never!”

Remus laughed.

(a/n: based on a prompt i saw on pinterest lol. can you tell i can’t flirt for my life. or that i have no idea how red carpets work? i wrote this at arse o’ clock, so please excuse the lack of research and feasible scenarios that went into this. i hope it put a smile on your face at least.)

[ghostfanwriter]

To make you feel better 🧽💖

A smutty fic where Joel is sick, and you do your best to help him feel better.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem! Reader.

Setting: Jackson.

🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖

What I listened to while writing this:

💖Kali Uchis - Angel

🧽Kali Uchis - Telepatía (fucking vibes these two)

💖Sabrina Carpenter - Nonsense (because this song is partially about being cockdumb and you can't convince me otherwise. It doesn't pass the vibe check for this, but I listened to it anyway)

🧽Lana del Rey - Ultraviolence (I don't know exactly why, but Ultraviolence just makes me dizzy thinking about Joel. Listen to it watching the interrogation or hospital scenes and tell me I'm fucking wrong.)

Author's note: do yourself a favor and listen to Angel and Telepatía when reading this. Damn they fit the vibe. I had this story cooking on my brain for a long time now, and finally managed to get it out. It's dirty, but it's passionate and I hope you like it 💖. Also, I mention how they met here, and I have this idea where Frank and Bill had a daughter, maybe she arrived with Frank, and reader is her, but I don't know. I have another idea that fits right there and may write it eventually. Let me know what you think ✨

Word count: I think it's around 2.5k.

Warnings: Smut; 18+ only please; p in v, oral sex (male receiving), mention of Joel being sick, no physical description of reader, a bit of fluff there too.

Tell me if I missed something, please ✨

Good reading 🧽💖

🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖

🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖

You leave Ellie on her doorstep and hurry to the house you share with Joel. Your cheeks are burning from the cold and you can barely feel your fingers, even inside Joel's thick gloves that he insisted you would wear outside.

You enter your house, remove a layer of clothes and rush to the guest bedroom. It took a lot - a lot - of persistance to convince him to stay downstairs. He was weak and you didn't want him going up and down the stairs everytime he needed to eat during the three days you went away.

You find him asleep, and if you're being honest, your heart sinks seeing him just laying there. Joel was getting old and, although you knew he would probably die before you, avoiding the thought was one of your main focuses right now.

Sitting at the edge of the bed slowly not to wake him up, you just admire him for a second. The wrinkles forming around his eyes, the little pout on his lips, his brows missing their deep frown. Seeing him in such a vulnerable position felt like a privilege, one that only you and Ellie had. He was soft and open with the two of you, unlike with everyone else, that sees him as a grumpy and even dangerous old man.

Dangerous, you couldn't lie. He is.

But you've seen his wrath. And you know it is only directed towards the people who threatened the ones important to him. You met him when he and Tess started going to your parents house, and with time your relationship develop to what it is today. You've never seen him offer any danger to anyone close to him.

You stroked your hands up his chest, feeling the soft material of his shirt, and noticing that he's still a little hot. He hums on his sleep and you try to wake him up. "Joel", you call in a tender whisper. He hums again and wakes up when your hand touches his cheek.

"Hi baby, how are you feeling?" His eyes take a second to focus and process it's you. He is awake on a snap, eyes wide looking at you. A tired and soft smile on his face and a hand on your thigh.

"You ok?" His stare is a bit confusing. You're not sure he is totally there with you, so you keep staring at him.

"Yeah, better now. Missed you." He finally says, like he's out of a spell. "I missed you too." You lean down to kiss him, and he lets you. Your soft and cold lips making him groan and shiver at the same time. His hand pressed harder on your thigh.

"You're still hot, aren't you? Did you shower today?" Caressing your thigh, he takes a while to respond. "Haven't since you left." You stayed out for three days, and Joel kind of got used to not showering often, so you always reminded him to shower at least once a day.

"So gross." You say with a laugh, and he gives you the best, strongest laugh he can. "I'm going to take one, why don't you come with me?" You say leaning down to kiss him again. Running your hands through his hair, you say "Wash this hair, huh? Come with me."

You help him up and you go to the bathroom. You help him undress first. He's a lot better than when you left, but he still struggles to bend and remove his shirt and pants.

"C'mon, you go first." You mention him the shower. "I thought we were showering together." You smile. "We are. But you can't stay out in the cold, so go while I undress."

He goes under the hot water, groaning at how good it feels. You quickly remove your neverending layers of clothes. Getting behind him, felling his body warmer with the added heat of the water.

You rest your cheek on his back for a second, hugging him from behind and just enjoying his presence for a moment. His hands come over yours, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You eventually start showering. He washes your hair, tenderness and love on his touch, massaging and caressing your head as he feels you relax under his touch. Fingers moving slowly and intently, like he was making sure you were really with him, and not outside, by yourself, without him to make sure you were okay.

You washed him, carefully soaping every inch of skin you saw, taking in every muscle and scar he has on his body, leaving an eventual kiss and squeeze along the way. He was with his back turned to you when you were finishing with his hair, and you lowered your hands to finish washing his front. When you reached his stomach, you felt the muscles there contract, and you soon saw why.

He had a hard, pulsing erection formed. It was fully there and God, you missed him.

He had been sick for almost a week and insisted you would keep a bit of a distance not to get sick. You missed his touch, his weight on top of you, his smell invading your nose, his sweat mixing with yours, his sounds, his tastes. You missed him fully, in a way that blurred your mind for a second.

You were brought back to reality when he groaned loudly, your hand firmly stroking him, up and down, slow and savoured movements. Like if going any harder or faster could break him. "Is this okay?" You ask, stopping to wait for his response.

A hand met your lower back, and his head rested lazily back on your shoulder. You got back to your motion, eventually going harder or faster, but keeping an overall steady and passionate rhythm.

Burying your face on his back, you were enjoying this as much as he was. "You always talk about how I'm always ready for you." You say in a whisper. He hums. You didn't lie. Joel was big on his praising game. Always telling how good you were doing and how good you felt.

"But you've never let me down neither." You said with a particularly tight movement of your hands around his tip and then his length.

Then you could swear, even if you felt like your ears were lying to you, that you heard him moan. A different, almost rare sound from him.

He always grunted and groaned, sounds you were deliciously familiar with, that you took as incentive to take him in deeper, or to cum around him again, or to work your tongue around his head one more time.

But a moan was different. It was him being vulnerable and showing his appreciation for what you were doing. His, other times, vocal lips, only spilling honesty right now.

The shower was slippery and Joel too weak to do anything in there. So you stopped your hands, running them up his stomach and kissing his back.

"Let's go to bed, don't want to end all the water, do we?" You said, turning him and receiving openly the kiss he leans down to press on your lips.

You dry his hair and his body, telling him to go to bed. You pat yourself dry and follow him, watching him while he looks at you, appreciating every curve and line your body had.

You lie over him, straddling his hips, his cock warm under your clit. Leaning down to kiss him, you slowly roll your hips, his hands coming to your ass, giving you a strong and deep squeeze.

"Wanna make you feel good, you've been feeling bad for a long time now." You whisper on his good ear when going down to kiss his neck. He hums in response and you start trailing kisses down his chest, then his stomach, and finally, around his cock.

You kiss his base, balls, head and the very tip with open and wet lips. Every inch of him receiving the love you want to give him.

You suck his balls first, softly and slowly. His hand comes to your hair, not pushing or applying any pressure. Just resting there and caressing you the same way he did when washing your hair.

You then lick a zigzag up his length, untill you reach the tip, that you roll your tongue around, slurping on his precum and enjoying the soft and warm felling of his skin when you put it inside your mouth.

You slowly take him inside, letting your droll wet the next inch before sucking him in. "Gonna fucking kill me, angel." He breathes low and you half chuckle, taking the hint and going a bit faster.

Your hand is cupping and rolling carefully his balls, when his breath starts to get quicker. You suck him a bit harder one last time, sucking in your cheeks to feel him fully inside your mouth.

Then you let go. With a wet and loud sound, your lips are open, a thick streak of saliva and precum keeping your lips and his tip connected. You swallow it and go back to straddling him, once again kissing your way back up.

His hands come to your face and he kisses you deeply, passionately. It's a slow and savoured kiss. The kind to make you wish to stop time and just live in for a bit. His warmth and smell sending you deeper into him, he's all that exists right now, and you couldn't imagine a better plane of existence.

You align yourself with his cock, rubbing his tip up and down your folds, circling him around your clit and just putting his head in first. Slowly, you move your hips up and down, just the tip going in and out of you.

His hands come down to your thighs and you break the kiss, holding yourself up to look into his eyes when you fully sink on him. His eyes falter for a second, his lips part and the fucking moan is there again. Blessing your ears and making you mimick his sound. A stretched, nasty and honest sound leaving your own lips.

The kind of moan that has you worried everything with ears could hear.

When you were together you felt like you just wanted to fuse with him. You always hugged him super tight, almost as if trying to merge your bodies and become just one.

Sex was the closest you would ever get to it, and you just loved feeling him inside of you. Just how fucking closer could you be with someone then literally having them inside you?

All these thoughts making you float inside your brain. His warmth, smells, tastes and sounds are everything that you know, and you're more than willing to just swim around the man underneath you.

Your hips instinctively start circling on him. His grip on your hips tightening and helping you move. You start going up and down, watching him while he looks at your body. His eyes deep and tired, but his usual passion and desire making room for themselves on them.

His lips dry and parted, an obscene invitation for you to lean down and lick them, which you're prompt to accept. Keeping your hips movements, circling while going up and down, a clockwork to help him feel every single inch of you, you just let yourself go and fully enjoy the moment.

You kissed again, his name leaving your lips just as much as yours left his. In whispers, whimpers, laughs when you moved just right, and groans that made you see stars.

You went back up, needing him faster and rougher, you support yourself on his chest and just let pleasure guide your movements.

Up and down, circling around. Forward and backwards, rubbing your clit on his cute belly while doing so.

You started to go faster, rougher, jumping higher and trying to ignore the pain on your boobs while you did so.

You tried to hold them with an arm, but Joel didn't like the blocking of his vision, so his hands left your hips and, removing your arm from your boobs, he held them, giving them enough support so they wouldn't hurt, but keeping them fully in sight for him.

You started to feel your orgasm forming and put your left hand besides his head, using your other hand to circle your clit fast and tight. Joel groaned and pulled you high enough that he could take your nipples on his lips.

He sucked hard and...

Oh God.

He just fucking kicked you off the highest cliff possible.

You screamed his name in a way that would absolutely earn you some looks when you step outside your house.

Your body shivered, shook, and moved uncontrollably. His name the only word you could remember, and you felt your pussy literally gushing around his cock.

You lied on top of him for a second. Trying your best to breath again. You were straight up just cockwarming for a bit, while you tried to organize your brain again.

"So fucking pretty, baby. Feel so good around me, squeezing me so well." His words making you clench purposefully around him, wich you kept doing, just pulsing and doing your best to make him feel good while you can't move. "My good... (a clench) Fucking girl."

Oh, to be praised by Joel Miller.

You couldn't help yourself. You needed him with you. And you would do anything to show him how much you wanted it, how much you deserved him with you.

You wanted to make sure he was always happy, always aware that you made him feel better than anyone else.

The fog on your brain started to fade and you slowly returned your movements. At first still laying on top of him, just moving your ass to bring back some friction, and eventually properly moving up and down.

"Circle again baby, like you were doing before. Felt so good." You did as you were told, drawing large and heavy circles with your hips, never letting an inch of him escape from you.

"Fuck, baby, so fucking good for me." His eyes were watching you, the frown back between his eyebrows, but this time motivated only by pleasure. His parted lips letting moans, grunts and deep breaths escape, only moving to repeat your name time after time.

It was all too much for you. You fell down again, taken by the man under you. Only him on your mind, his smile, his hair, his big hands, the sound of his voice.

Your orgasm wasn't just due to the stimulation from this moment. It was because of him.

For him.

It was like your way to pay homage to him, to show him just how much you loved and appreciated him. He was making you cum, not only his cock.

Your jaw was clenched together and your eyes doing their best to keep staring at his. When you were finally over, he couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm gonna cum, peach. Can't fucking hold it anymore."

You searched for strength on your muscles and got up. Kissing him and quickly reaching for his cock. You grab him and just go right back to it. Taking him as deep as you can, swallowing around his cock to make your throat clench around him, earning a grunt and a hair pull from him.

"Fuck, shit." He's doing his best to last and savour this feeling. His hands squeezing both your hair and the sheets, the veins on his neck about to break his skin and jump out of his body.

"Can't, baby. Gonna f-fucking cum." His warning allowing you to remove a bit of him from your mouth. You suck his head and pump his length, moaning when you feel him twitch inside your mouth.

Joel screams your name and lifts his upper body when he cums inside your mouth. Filling you up more than usually, and oh... You love it, tightening your lips around him to not let any drop escape from you.

"Greedy fucking girl." He says when you remove your full mouth from him, squeezing your lips not to let anything drip. You drink him with the most beautiful facial expression Joel has ever fucking seen, and smile when he laughs lazily at your face.

You look down, noticing there's still some on his cock. You take it back into your mouth and Joel hisses, caressing your hair, once again mimicking the movement from your shower.

Rolling your tongue around his softening tip one last time, you moan and circle it around your lips. Then you lick them and go back up, looking for his lips.

He pulls you down, kissing you in a way he hopes you understand as appreciation.

There you are, laying on top of him, sweating even though you're going through the worst part of winter.

Just you, Joel and your love for each other.

"I love you." You say when breaking the kiss.

"I love you too, more than I could ever explain." His honesty breaks your heart.

You feel the familiar feeling on your guts, the desire to melt into him, to never have to leave this bed again, to never have to experience a second without him.

You lie by his side and rest your head on his shoulder. "Gonna have to take another shower." You say, half laughing, half serious.

"Is it gonna end like the last one? Cause if it is I'm fucking running to the bathroom." He laughs, and you know he means it.

"Gonna be an endless loop, till the end of time." You say and he looks down at you.

"Eternity sounds beautiful by your side." Fuck him, you're so fucking in love.

🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖🧽💖

Can you tell I'm dying over this man? No? Cool.

Nothing to see here.

Feedback, reblogs and cuddles are highly appreciated 👑

Bye besties, see you next time 💖

[anystalker707]

Bitter little nothings

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader Genre: Angst/Comfort Word count: 1 100 Summary: Gerard and (y/n) are... something.

A/n: not proofread, and just a little something I wanted to write <3

There was something different in the air that turned everything different on days like that—maybe it was my brain playing pranks on me, but even breathing is a little difficult and I just can’t keep up with everyone else’s good humor. Ray already knew that, offering me a gentle smile when I opened the door to the band room and stood in the doorway for a little, shaking the excessive water off the umbrella so I could leave it on the rack along with the other ones. My bag and my coat also got wet, though not too much, but nothing that some time hanging from the empty chair in the corner wouldn’t solve until it was time to leave.

“So,” I exhaled, moving to grab the free guitar from the corner, “I— Good afternoon, I mean. What you playing today?”

Gerard cleaned his throat, his hand that wasn’t busy holding a plastic bottle of water skipping through the pages of his messy notebook. “Practicing Venom, Skylines and Sorrows for today. Sorry for calling you again and at the last moment, but these songs really need something else with the guitars to make it work, and since Frank isn’t here all the time...”

“You should make part of the band already,” Mikey commented with a cough and fixing his glasses. He was almost out of my sight, somewhere still enough to see his slender figure holding his bass with all the power and plenitude in the world.

“You know I wouldn’t work for that.” I blinked, stepping back to the amp and pedals to check if everything was at least minimally fixed. “You know that. And taking Frank’s place wouldn’t be nice.”

Ray hummed, ducking his head. “A band can work with three guitars.”

“It works better with a drummer as well.” I pressed my lips together for a moment. That sounded unnecessarily rude. “I’ll tell you if that friend of mine is available.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Gerard nodded. “But do think about our offer.”

I remained in silence because as much as they knew me a lot, there were layers of myself I would like to keep to myself for as long as possible. Playing with them was fun and I was good at it, but it worked for me only as long as it was exactly that—for fun. The moment it turned into something serious, a responsibility, my brain would collapse, and I didn’t want Gerard to see me in such a state. And why him? Well, Gerard was... Gerard.

Some words were shared before the first distorted notes started echoing through the room, primarily coming from Ray’s guitar, soon followed by Mikey’s bass then my own guitar’s.

They weren’t not changing much on the song’s structure that day—they only did that when I wasn’t playing so Frank could keep up with everything and also share his ideas—, so it was swift. Witnessing everything coming together into something beautiful just out of their minds brought me some sort of comfort along with a warm sparkle in my chest that did intensify whenever my eyes lingered over Gerard. Each of his movements carried such a dedication that spreads to everyone else, though not at the same level. It was like his life depended on it; a free fall he dared to take, but kept taking false steps around the edge of the cliff. Of course, he’d eventually fall into it; My Chemical Romance would turn into something great even if he didn’t see it yet. And I wished I’d be there for them.

The last note of Skylines echoed through the room, followed by cheers and claps of high-fives before we were setting our instruments aside and reaching for bottles of water or stepping outside. I mean, only I went outside at first, just to soon be followed by Gerard, who’d have a cig between his middle and pointer fingers already if it weren’t for the warnings he received from everyone. You could notice how the lack of it bothered him by the way he took an irregular deep breath, not knowing what to do with his hands until he finally tucked them behind his back then leaned against the wall.

Just his presence was enough to make my chest warmer, something extremely unusual. Sometimes I wished Gerard wouldn’t always be so sympathetic and attract everyone—otherwise, I would be clinging to his side already despite how humiliating and out of character it would look for me—instead, no, I had to keep this one–foot distance from him with a repressed awkwardness just so no one would know what was going on between us in case they walked out. Not like his whole family and Frank didn’t witness us coming out of his bedroom the morning after the halloween party at his house, both of us with messy hair and necks covered in purple marks.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore,” Gerard mumbled, voice merely louder than the sound of the rain soaking the ground. The back door of the band practice room opened to a beautiful space, with a little clearing before the woods took over.

The words hit me like thunder struck something over the hills, flashing a white light before everything for less than a second. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to react. Not in front of him. Was he crazy?

“Explain.” I deserved an explanation, after so long longing for him.

“I...” He breathed, and fell silent for a moment. I wondered what was going on through his head. He was a difficult person to read. “Things are weird. It’s good for you, but I don’t know whether it’s good for me or not.”

“Why would it be bad for you?” The words escaped my lips before I could even think about it as my eyebrows knitted together. This couldn’t be happening.

Gerard didn’t answer immediately—of course, there was tension and doubt lingering his words and his movements, as small as they were, because there was no reason for him to dismiss me like this after everything that had happened. It wasn’t just about him sleeping with me, it went further to paying for my lunch, holding my hand, keeping my clothes. Something else laced his thoughts, and it probably was the goddamn insecurity again whispering bitter nothings in his mind.

“Don’t think things like that,” I breathed in defeat. “Give it longer. We don’t have to rush anything or compromise with anything yet. It’s just... us, and maybe we should enjoy it while it lasts.”

There was no answer. Only the sound of the rain falling heavier over the roof above us and against the ground filled our ears before a cold breeze hit us. I wanted to go inside, but it wasn’t an option while things still weren’t solved with Gerard, even if I hopelessly believed it all ended there, making something bitter and sharp twist in my chest. It didn’t last long though—neither did the cold—, with Gerard’s warm and soft lips suddenly meeting mine for a peace–making kiss.

_______________________

tagging list: @trans-ylvania | @newgirlinhell

[frnkiebby]

the fucking CUTEST~🎃

[hongism]

update;

tldr: all i’ll be writing on this blog moving forward is mists of celeste. if that’s all you want to know about the status of both me and this blog, then you can stop reading here! i won’t be offended or bothered if that’s all you want to know!

however if you’re interested in a more in-depth explanation as to why i came to this decision then you’re welcome to keep reading to understand where i’m at.

why am i doing this?

there are multiple layers to why i’m taking this step. first off this is not a goodbye, as much as i’m sure many people are expecting that with how often i’ve been absent from this blog this year alone. one, i made a promise to myself when i very first started this blog almost 4 years ago that i would deactivate once i reached a certain milestone. since then, i’ve chosen not to deactivate and i think i will always leave this blog up as an archive even when the day comes where i will not be here or be posting anything here. i also have hopes and goals to finish mists of celeste and i think i will hit that milestone before i finish the story (maybe not anymore but, that’s beside the point). 

two, with being so close to such a significant milestone, i think there are certain expectations i have regarding my fics and the success of those fics. frankly, almost 90% of my following came from when i started writing for a.tz/s.kz, not b.ts. so it isn’t a disconnect in what people followed me for because i haven’t been writing for b.ts for several years by now. but even so, my fics still don’t do well. the reblogs mostly come from me, the feedback mostly comes from people who read from me regularly or mutuals, and the ratio of likes to reblogs is a never-ending issue that is never going to change. i’m grateful for anyone who stops to read and leave feedback on my works, and i am especially grateful to anyone who stops to read and leave feedback on my works that are not mists of celeste. and now with tumblr mucking up the tag system and preventing my works from being shown in the tags even when i do everything recommended, my works are going out to an even smaller audience that is not even 1% of my follower count. even with atinyblr being slow these days, i see other writers doing well and getting 500-1000+ notes with apparent ease compared to what i see on my own works. 

the shift in interest in the community has also affected me a lot. people are less likely to read a 10k+ fic that has plot mixed in with smut compared to a 1-2k pwp smut fic, which is fine. but that isn’t what i enjoy writing. and i understand that over time, i have lost the audience i used to have when it comes to writing that stuff. even for moc, barely anyone on the taglist i run with every update reads the updates. it’s an upsetting reality for me as the writer because i see my follower count go up and up yet my interaction and notes go down and down. which is primarily why i don’t like being here anymore to be frank. i have my friends from here but i talk to them off tumblr so i don’t feel a need or a compulsion to be here to talk to friends. i know that whatever i post won’t be received the way i wish for it to be received. and i now have this lingering fear that anytime i post anything at all tumblr will decide it shouldn’t show in tags at all.

and three, people are still dragging up things that happened in the past that i have tried so hard to move away from and want nothing to do with anymore. and belatedly, as much as i changed my url at the time, i realize that i won’t ever be able to fully distance myself from being involved in that in the past as long as i am calypso, hongism. i really hate that because i’ve had to come to terms with a lot of the bad things i suffered here on this website and in my real life relationships that were public here on tumblr, but i will always be known for my association with those things in a negative light.

what about your other series?

i won’t be writing them anymore! i appreciate all the love and affection given to them but frankly after blood masquerade i came to the realization that even if there are a lot of people interested in an idea, they aren’t all going to be interested in the final product. the ratio of votes to even likes on the fic itself was so grossly skewed that i found myself both baffled and discouraged to even continue writing it. aka; why am i putting so much heart and soul into something and not seeing an outcome that is balanced or fair? it wasn’t even an insignificant difference but rather something close to a 50+ difference in notes and votes.

will you ever change your mind?

maybe? maybe not? probably not. at some point in the distant future i might find myself wanting to go back to ideas that i had, like the wooyoung and san series i had planned for october this year but right now i have such a dismal and bad relationship with this blog in general that i don’t even want to think about posting anything here.

and one more note regarding moc:

i think i’m done writing interims. there has always been a disconnect in the readers of the main chapters versus readers of the interims, and i’ve always known that would be the case, but it is greatly disheartening as the writer to see such a divide on the work that i put my heart and soul into. so for now moving forward i just want to do main chapters and nothing else unless i feel so in love with an idea that i just have to put it out there.

overall i understand that this post as a whole is very moody and emotional and negative but i hope you all understand that this has been something i’ve been struggling with for the better part of a year here on this blog. i feel a disconnect and i feel no way to grab the ropes and tie myself back here the way i used to be here. even looking at other writers who have come up into the scene on atinyblr, i feel very lacking as a writer and i also feel a disconnect from them because i’m a writer who has been around here since 2020. it’s dumb to say that i feel ostracized in any sort of way but i do feel a bit distant, and i understand that in my attempts to curate a corner for myself on the internet, i created a very specific niche for myself in mists of celeste. i have always said that that is my magnum opus, and i still believe that to be the case. and at risk of sounding horribly arrogant, i feel i’ve isolated myself on an island that is mists of celeste and any time i try to broaden my horizons to do something outside of moc, it’s destined to fail. so for the sake of my mental well-being i need to step back and dedicate hongism to mists of celeste so that i can curb any expectations i might have had about other projects i wanted to do. 

so no, it’s not a goodbye, just a note that i’m slowing down and that the only thing i’ll be presenting to you all here on hongism moving forward is mists of celeste. it’s something that’s said a lot but it’s not something that i admitted myself until recently, but having come back multiple times this year with this mentality of ‘if i just push myself through this then it’ll be fine’, i now realize that if i don’t care for myself then how can i expect anyone else to care about me either? and i think i need to do this to care for myself and have a better mentality about my presence here.

[twistedtummies2]

The Price May Be Right - Number 15

Welcome to “The Price May Be Right!” I’m counting down My Top 31 Favorite Vincent Price Performances & Appearances! The countdown will cover movies, TV productions, and many more forms of media. We’ve reached the Top 15 for this countdown! Today we focus on Number 15: Richelieu, from The Three Musketeers.

Alexandre Dumas’ classic swashbuckling stories of “The Three Musketeers” have been adapted numerous times to the stage and screen. When it comes to movie adaptations, most people agree that the best version is the 1970s Musketeers Trilogy, directed by Richard Lester. However, if there is a cinematic runner-up to the Lester Trilogy of Musketeer movies for the best adaptation, it is undoubtedly the 1948 film from MGM, directed by George Sidney. This Technicolor adventure epic does a most excellent job of telling the rather broad story from Dumas’ novel, condensing the plot down to a length of just over two hours without sacrificing much in the way of characters and intrigue. It also features some of the finest performances ever done by its star-studded cast, including Gene Kelly as the heroic D’Artagnan, Angela Lansbury as Queen Anne, Frank Morgan as King Louis XIII, Lana Turner as Milady De Winter…and Vincent Price as the main villain of the story, Richelieu. In the original book, Richelieu is, of course, Cardinal Richelieu: a controversial historical figure. While most adaptations keep this fact in play, most likely because he WAS a real person, the 1948 film takes liberties with history by making Richelieu the Prime Minister of France. The reason for this was simply the world of filmmaking at the time: there was trepidation about depicting a leading figure of the Catholic Church as the villain of the story in the 1940s, due to religious sympathies and a fear of censorship. While Vincent’s Richelieu may not have the title of Cardinal, this ultimately matters little, since the fictional character of Richelieu remains basically intact. And in works like this, that is what counts most. In many ways, I like to say Richelieu is a Bond Villain who existed before Bond Villains were even a thing. I mean, first of all, just look at the image I chose: that’s basically the Archetypal Bond Villain Pose, courtesy of Blofeld. XD But even in terms of the plot and the role he plays in the story, this character feels like the sort of evil genius a protagonist like 007 would have needed to tackle. He’s a cunning puppet master of a villain; the kind of evil mastermind who lurks in the shadows, pulling the strings. Richelieu does little in terms of direct confrontation with his adversaries, but instead prefers to use his henchmen and the power he has over the state and military to enforce his will. He makes loyal subjects seem like traitors, and hires serial murderers as his lieutenants, all while plotting to take over the kingdom entirely and wage war against his enemies in England. The funniest part is, at the end of the story, Richelieu doesn’t TECHNICALLY lose: while his plans are foiled, his defeat comes at a high cost for the heroes, which makes the ending interesting in its tone. In some ways it’s a happy ending, but in other ways there’s a sort of ambiguity to it. Vincent’s performance is both hammy and understated at the same time. He plays Richelieu with a Satanical charm and equally devilish eloquency. His character is a smarmy, crafty villain, and a master strategist: he seems to know just about everything about his enemies, and even his allies, and is able to out-think them and be two steps ahead at almost every turn. Whenever one scheme fails, he has a backup plan already set up. Anytime D’Artagnan and the other Musketeers think they’ve got Richelieu all figured out, he throws them a curveball that makes them second guess their whole approach. While he never rants or raves, or laughs beyond a chortle, his oily performance definitely carries a thick layer of melodrama to it in the way it is written and framed. There are also elements of empathy to Richelieu, as there are lines even he hesitates to cross in his work, and he can be reasoned with under certain circumstances. He even shows a sense of respect towards his opponents; always a fun quality in an antagonist. This is another role I don’t hear people talk about too often when they discuss Price’s best characters, but it’s definitely worthy of a place in my personal Top 15. Tomorrow, the countdown continues with Number 14!

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

How to Become a Mob Boss: Quote episode 1 to 4

"- Mob boss is basically the CEO of an organization. And some of these organizations are very big, and some of them make an awful lot of money." (George Anastasia - Organized Crime Writer - Episode 1)

"- You have to be smart and know how to motivate and, at times, frighten people to keep them in line." (George Anastasia - Episode 1)

"- To be a successful mob boss, first of all, you have to be driven." (Ellie Honig - Former Federal Prosecutor, Southern District of NY - Episode 1)

"- From Torrio, young Capone learned these rules. Dress for success. Keep your mouth shut. And when it comes to staying on top, remember, money is power." (Narrator - Episode 1)

"- Frankie Yale taught Capone an alternate set of skills. Always show you mean business. Never get outgunned. And make sure your reputation precedes you." (Narrator - Episode 1)

"- Start with this mantra any wise businessman must follow, never pay retail." (Narrator - Episode 2)

"- Frank wanted to try to figure out, "How do I cut out the middleman to maximize my profits?" And also reduce the opportunity for a law enforcement to penetrate his organization." (Episode 2)

"- Anytime your sales volume isn't up to your full market potential, whatever the reason, you've got a problem." (Episode 2)

"- The playbook solution to this common dilemma? Become the only game in town." (Narrator - Episode 2)

"- If you corner the market, you have control over the market. You can charge whatever the hell you want." (Emily Sweeney - Reporter, Boston Globe - Episode 2)

"- But how do you make sure customers come to you to get their fix? It starts with marketing. Like most organizations, you have a product, you give it a brand name. So you want people to look for your brand. You have to make sure your brand is good. But clever branding only goes so far. It's what's in the package that counts." (Narrator - Episode 2) "- Frank stamped his "Blue Magic," and it was the best drop you could buy. Frank made sure his production line was in the hands of a true expert. The manufacturing genius he called Red Top." (Episode 2)

"- But to truly corner the market, Frank needed something else. A solid retail strategy. Studying police behavior, Frank notices a key pattern. At 4:00 p.m. daily, cops on the early shift leave their posts. But the night shift doesn't take over until 5:00. Frank instructs his lieutenants to hit the streets hard during this golden hour. While Frank monitors his crew's customer service by cruising through Harlem undercover." (Narrator - Episode 2)

"- If anybody slips up, there's hell to pay. But when your product sells this well, sometimes all you have to do is sit back and enjoy. This is why the crime gods invented money laundering. Ready to turn dirty money into clean cash? While techniques vary, they mostly follow the same basic steps. Step one. Placement. Create a legitimate business with a bank account where you can park your illicit profits, like a car wash or a strip club. Step two. Layering. Use complex transactions to separate the money from its illegal source. For example, buy gold. Cash it in. Then send that money from one international bank account to another to make it even harder to trace. Or sink the proceeds into assets like luxury cars, jewelry, or real estate. Then sell them again. Bringing us to step three. Integration. Invest your freshly-laundered dough into the legitimate financial system to keep the taxman off your trail. Voilà! Your dirty drug money is now clean as a whistle." (Narrator - Episode 2)

"- Everything's money. This is America." (Episode 2)

"- But when your core product is high-grade heroin, the happy days probably won't last forever. If you want to build your business to last, you need a strategy that can adapt to all market conditions. Frank used a multipronged approach to address this problem. Starting with a PR campaign. He thought doing things for the community would be an effective way of protecting himself and his entreprise. Loaning money to people. Not worrying about if you got it paid back. Taking care of people. So he kept a community on his side. He also made sure to take care of an even more important demographic. Cops. Frank spent a lot of money paying off police. Having the police on the take means being able to walk down the street and not worry about being locked up. It means knowing that you're gonna have a supply of drugs coming in safely without being interdicted by the police. But as many mob bosses discover, acts of generosity can leave some men in blue wanting more. But the early '70s, Frank Lucas has moved his family to a quiet house in the suburbs. But when you inhabit the criminal life, business has a way of following you home. Today, Frank is met by a unwanted visitor, a corrupt NYPD detective he comes to call Babyface. He orders Frank to pay him 10'000 cash a month. Or he'll shut down Frank's operation for good. Frank doesn't see any real options. But then Harlem's top drug boss makes one last transaction. Frank joined America's team and made a business decision to cooperate to reduce that jail time. As a businessperson, looking out for himself, he made the right decision for himself. Even if it meant turning on his own brother. That type of betrayal is it's hard to deal with sometimes. What can I say? It's just business." (Narrator - Episode 2)

"- But when you're a mob boss looking to consolidate your power, you look at human emotions differently. Mob bosses rule by fear. It's the best weapon. Ant there's one tested method for putting this spine-tingling tool to work. To make people understand fear, you have to perform violence." (Narrator - Episode 3)

"- If you are able to say, "I can kill you, I can kill your wife, I can kill your daughter, don't fuck with me"... you become a very powerful person." (Episode 3)

"- Nobody demonstrated this lesson as effectively as Sicily's boss of bosses, Salvatore "Toto" Riina. But he was mainly known for this astonishing figure. He is thought to have authorized between 800 and 1'000 killings. Secrecy was one of his weapons, and it built up his mystique within the Mafia. This kind of ghost figure that could be anywhere and might be listening to you as you spoke. He didn't need a luxurious lifestyle. He didn't care about that stuff, but what he did care about was power. One of the things that Riina is supposed to have said is, "Comandare é meglio che fottere," which mean, if I can use plain English "Being boss is better than fucking." (Alexander Stille- Author, Excellent cadavers - Episode 3)

"- That's why as a mob boss, you'll sometimes have to kill more than the story." (Narrator - Episode 3)

"- By the early '80s, Riina was dead set on increasing his power within the Sicilian Mafia. But he faced a stubborn obstacle. Something called the Commission. The Mafia Commission, also called the Cupola, is a governing body of sorts of the Mafia. It was made up of the head boss of the different families. It was a way of collaborating to make sure that business stayed on track. Riina begins to sit in the Commission in about 1969 but begins to have ambitions of domination. Riina's modest goal, force the Commission to name him Capo dei Capi, the Boss of Bosses. But there was one small problem. That position didn't exist. He believed that he should have absolute power. He did not want to share. So Riina decided to turn the job he had into the job he wanted. The Beast's plan, destroy his top rivals' organizations from within. It starts by making secret side deals. In return, they do Riina's dirty work for him... taking out their bosses and filling the ranks with mafiosi loyal to Riina." (Narrator - Episode 3)

"- It's very important for a mob boss to be the guy holding the strings over lawmakers because it allows them to expand their control and their rule." (Narrator - Episode 3)

"- Killing Dalla Chiesa showed, "We can take out anyone, and we will kill you if you get into our business." (Narrator - Episode 3)

"- If you're gonna harm your enemies, make sure you do it complete, so they can never come after you." (Narrator - Episode 3)

"- There's a word for when you've got nothing left to lose, freedom." (Narrator - Episode 3)

"- The message is, "If you mess with us, we don't care how high we have to go, we don't care how protected you are, we will kill you." (Narrator - Episode 3)

"- Aniello Dellacroce, who was the underboss of the Gambino family, became a mentor for Gotti." (Michael Franzese - Former Capo, Colombo Crime Family - Episode 4)

"- This is not about diplomacy. This is about an iron fist." (Episode 4)

"- No matter what organization you're looking to lead, you have to respect its structure. That's especially true with the Italian Mafia, also known as Cosa Nostra. In Cosa Nostra, There's a pecking order. At the top, you have your boss. Under the boss, you have your underboss. Then you have your consigliere, which is basically the advisor or the counselor. Then you have your captains. That's sort of your mid-level managers. And then you have your soldiers. Those are the made guys. Beyond that, you have associated. They're not made members of the group, but they're people who work with and contribute to the mob. In the American Mafia, you can't kill a fully initiated or made guy in your family, without getting permission from your boss. You can't whack a made guy in another family without getting permission from your boss and the boss of the other family. And if you want to clip your own boss, good luck. You need approval from the Commission. Basically, the Mafia board of directors. The rules were clear." (Narrator - Episode 4)

"- John Gotti needed to make his case through the proper channels, but he decided otherwise. He said, "Do it. Fuck it." We knew we couldn't get permission from this thing. Bosses want to protect each other in the Commission, so we formed this alliance which we called The Fist. So, there was five of us, and there was nobody saying no. It was just a time and a place." (Episode 4)

"- Smart mobsters don't want attention on themselves from law enforcement, from the media, from the public. They know that what they're doing is illegal, and attention can only hurt their bottom-line goal, which is to make money." (Ellie - Episode 4)

"- If you're gonna be out there and be flashy, you're going to embarrass law enforcement. So now we're gonna double down." (Lou - Episode 4)

"- When somebody develops this hubris is they make mistakes. Because they are operating under this false belief that nothing can touch me." (Joni Johnson - Forensic Psychologist and Private Investigator - Episode 4)

"- John Gotti was an egotistical narcissist who appeared to revel in the attention that he was getting from the press and from the public. And the more he got, the more he wanted." (Ed - Episode 4)

"- He's called the Dapper Don. Whoever named him the Dapper Don should have came down and talked to him. The reporter. He would've paid that guy $ 100'000 for that label. He loved those labels. I mean, you couldn't make that stuff up." (Sammy - Episode 4)

"- He operated in front of the cameras. He made himself into a celebrity, into a "front page of the tabloid" figure." (Ellie - Episode 4)

"- The Commission hired Sicilian mobsters to have Gotti killed. They put a bomb in the wrong car. Were it not for a little operator error, Gotti's ego would have cost him his life." (Narrator - Episode 4)

"- To be in this life, you have to be willing to go to prison, because at some point, you're gonna get caught. So make sure your time in government custody is productive." (Narrator - Episode 4)

"- RICO is the worst law they ever put on the books. It's Racketeering Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act, and it's an all-encompassing law. It's very hard to defend." (Narrator - Episode 4)

"- You'd have to be a complete imbecile to be talking about a boss behind his back. He's got the ultimate power over your life, whether you live or die." (Sammy - Episode 4)

"- You know, that's a treacherous life. Dissension is created, and mistrust is created when something like that happens. Now, your own men are questioning that and worried about themselves. You know? What, am I next? That's what happens when you take your eye off the ball. You get a crew full of killers doubting your leadership." (Narrator - Episode 4)

"- The code in the American Mafia is silence. Don't talk about a murder that's committed. Don't talk on your phones. Don't talk indoors. Don't talk in your car. Everything's about keeping your mouth shut. The Mafia calls this code Omerta." (Narrator - Episode 4)

"- When you take the oath of Omerta, you're taking an oath to never admit that the life ever exists and to never betray the life. That's the oath. For a mafioso to break Omerta is tantamount to betraying your family, everything you know, everything you love." (Micheal - Episode 4)

"- It brings more notoriety to him. It legitimizes him. And it's getting turned around on the government that John Gotti is an innocent guy what works for a plumbing company. And they don't like him because he's in the public's eye." (Narrator - Episode 4)

"- The government was jealous of him because he was winning." (Renee)

"- In the end, Gotti did achieve the attention he always wanted. I think John Gotti represented people's frustrations with the government. How the government's always nickel-and-diming you, and John Gotti's fighting the government." (Lou)

"- Basically, Gotti was an example of how not to be a mob boss." (Narrator - Episode 4)

"- If you want fame, go become a fucking actor, or whatever you want to be, but don't be a mob boss." (Sammy - Episode 4)

"- Nobody tackled this challenge as creatively as Boston's most legendary mob boss, Whitey Bulger, whose ruthless attention to detail charted his path to infamy and then pulled a disappearing act for the ages." (Narrator - Episode 4)

[whileiamdying]

The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill

Ms. Lauryn Hill

Raw, profound, and era-defining, its mastery has never been duplicated.

Lauryn Hill’s debut—and only—solo studio album was a seismic event in 1998: a stunningly raw, profound look into the spiritual landscape not just of one of the era’s biggest stars, but of the era itself. Decades later, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill still counts as a life-changer, with the preternaturally talented Hill rapping with the confident ferocity of a woman in total creative control and singing with the gospel-hued richness of the soul canon. It was an expression of interior depth during a time in which Black women were often portrayed as one-dimensional archetypes, and Hill delivered her magnum opus of life’s triumphs and setbacks with such singular heart, sincerity, and specificity that it transcended from an album into a universal statement of being. Her fortitude was so powerful that new generations continue to discover an album whose specific mastery of musicality, lyricism, and frankness has not been replicated.

Miseducation was forged in emotional fire. After seven years as the voice of the politically cogent, critically acclaimed New Jersey hip-hop trio The Fugees—and in the aftermath of a protracted, tumultuous relationship with her bandmate Wyclef Jean—Hill set out to document a period of major life transitions, including the slow erosion of the group she’d been with since high school. With the trauma came new beginnings: Hill was also inspired by the physical and mental transitions of pregnancy and the birth of Zion, her first child with Rohan Marley, using her attendant spirituality as a guiding light. This potent emotional crossroads led to what remains one of the rawest albums ever created, a lasting artistic beacon for musicians across genre, and a moment in which the whole world recognized Hill’s talents.

Miseducation’s opening track, in which a teacher announces a classroom roll call only for Lauryn Hill to be absent, speaks to its thesis: that its lessons were of the sort that can only be learned through lived experience. As she weaved through painful eviscerations of an ex, which even at the time were understood to be directed at Jean, she redefined the way gritty, sharp rapping and lavish R&B harmonies could fuse together in an era of nearly catholic separation between the two genres. (Even three years after Method Man and Mary J. Blige’s “All I Need” remix, hardcore rap was largely still teeming with misogyny, and R&B was seen as a softer, more feminine pursuit.) Miseducation centered a young woman's point of view, in all her rebellions and vulnerabilities, amid terrain dominated on the hip-hop charts by a certain vision of hypermasculinity. But it also served as an entry point for a mainstream still inclined to denigrate hip-hop’s musicality.

The album was recorded, in part, at Hope Road in Jamaica, in Bob Marley’s home—a legacy reflected in Hill’s idea for the album’s cover art, which echoes The Wailers’ Rastaman Vibration cover. Yet the DNA of these songs, and a key to their endurance, draws on a classic Motown Records/Stax Records sound that showcases Hill’s immaculate vocal approach; the layered “Doo Wop (That Thing)” alone won her two of the five Recording Academy / GRAMMYs [awards] she took home in 1999, a validation of the freshness of her sound, as well as the way her music spoke to the emergent feminism of the Hip-Hop Generation.

The vulnerability in Miseducation’s singles is often discussed, but Hill’s concerns, and powers, were multivalent. Once a history major at Columbia University, Hill explored her upbringing in Newark New Jersey, with a sharp, subtle sociopolitical eye (“Every Ghetto, Every City,” featuring clavinet from Loris Holland, minister of music at the storied Brooklyn Pilgrim Church) and philosophized on the nature of growing up in a disenfranchised world (“Everything Is Everything,” whose classic ’70s soul sound comes courtesy of a backing band including a then-unknown pianist named John Legend).

Miseducation is also proof that pure intention and unflinching emotional truth can be a path to deliverance unto itself. As Hill raps on the politically charged koan “Everything Is Everything”: “My practice extending across the atlas/I begat this.” She was, and remains, a once-in-a-generation talent whose inspiration, and innovation, can be heard through the decades. Artists exhaust long discographies hoping for a cohesive piece of work resonant enough to reshape culture and inscribe its creator into the pantheon; Lauryn Hill did it in one.

“It’s interesting and very unique for an album to soundtrack your life but be so timeless. Every time you hear it, it feels like the first time…and it touches you in a different way and meets you at a different point in your life. If anyone was to have made one album and that be it, that’s it. That’s the pinnacle.”

— Dua Lipa

[cherrybombfangirl]

Darcy Jackson - OC Intro

Name (full): Darcy Astraea Jackson

Other names: Darc', General Jackson ; crackhead, bitch, jackass, bossy bitch (by Percy)

Fandom/Appears In: Percy Jackson, appears in- Percy Jackson and the Olympians (Books 3-5), Heroes of Olympus (Books 1-5), Trials of Apollo (briefly), Magnus Chase (briefly in Book 3), her book/fic/arc Eye of the Storm

Age: 14 (Titan's Curse), 15 (Battle of the Labyrinth), 16 (The Last Olympian), 18 (Heroes of Olympus series)

Birthdate: August 18

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Personality: anger issues just a hair worse than Percy's, really bad at socializing so she just stands there, really smart tactician, needs to feel needed by others, brooding protagonistTM, abandonment issues, neat freak

Gender ID: Questioning, She/Her

Sexuality: AroAce (romance and sex replused)

Hair: Dark aburn, usually in a neat ponytail. After The Last Olympian, she whacks it into chin length layers, and after The Blood of Olympus she adds purple streaks.

Eyes: Deep sea blue on the bluer side (Percy's are on the greener side)

Skin: Very pale, sun burns very easily, some freckles

Faceclaim: [none found yet]

Identifying Features: lots of battle scars across her arms, legs, and torso ; Post TLO- most noticeable battle scars are the wide deep ones across her chest and abdomen and the long white one that goes from the bridge of her nose to the corner of her jaw

Combat skills: well versed in many weapons- specializes in a sword/bow and arrows, heightened battle senses, demigod powers, greek demigod fighting style

Supernatural abilities: Powers from Poseidon- weak water powers where she can be healed by water and freeze or boil it at a close distance. Main power from her father is earthquakes and manipulating the earth’s surface (picture the Earthbenders in ATLA)

Disabilities: PTSD after TLO, really fucking traumatized from a fucked childhood if that counts

History/Background:

Having two children of a god- let alone one of the big three- is dangerous to themselves and everyone else, so Percy and Darcy were separated as infants. The gods left Darcy in Idaho, where she grew up in the foster system, kicked from home to home for causing problems (attracting monsters) and trying to run away- as well as her anger issues. At 13 years old she ended up with a doomsday mormon cult family that was convinced she'd been possessed/cursed by the devil and that they could fix her.

Darcy ran away after one night became too much, met the two huskies that the gods had sent to protect her, and learned that she was a demigod. She was skeptical at first, until she could see the monsters that came for her and fought them. The huskies were named Tsunami and Hurricane, and they protected her as she escaped into the woods of the American North.

She learned of Camp Half-Blood, and the potential of finding her family and why they left her, and traveled there. She fought monsters along the way, and lost Hurricane to a bunch of hellhounds. She finally made it to camp half-blood, and started fighting with the Poseiden kid until one of their fights almost tore the camp in half and flooded it- it was then Poseiden finally claimed her.

Relationships: Percy Jackson (twin brother), Sally Jackson (mother), Poseiden (father), Sarah Callahan (best friend), L's Hansen (best friend), Annabeth Chase (good friend), Piper McClean (good friend), Hazel Lesvegue (good friend), Thalia Grace (good friend), Jason Grace, Frank Zhang, Leo Valdez (friends), Tsumani (her dog)

Aliases: Camp Half-Blood, Greek Demigod, Daughter of Posieden

Additional Notes/Facts: 

Darcy sunburns very easily, meanwhile her brother tans like a god. She hates this.

She calls her brother every insult she can think of, but if you so much as look at him wrong she’ll beat you up

She wears leather bomber jackets 90% of the time and looks badass as hell

She does like swimming, and is really good like most Poseiden kids

Prefers cold weather over warm weather

Knows everything there is to know about surviving in the woods- how to make a good fire, what's safe to eat, what to avoid, how to build a shelter, etc

Doesn't figure out she's aroace until mid Mark of Athena, but always felt broken until she discovered the identity and then everything made sense

Can telepathically communicate with Tsunami, who's a tough love mother figure to Darcy

Her magical item is a charm bracelet with a bunch of different weapons on it. She just pulls the charm off and it transforms into a full sized weapon of the charm, then she hold the weapon to the bracelet to change it back

^^^ She's good with all weapons but is best with her bow and arrow

Adapts very easily and can think on the fly, works great in high stress situations

Fic: Eye of the Storm (coming soon, hopefully)