#i have like 80 t shirts or something

[gen4grl]

my johto timeskip designs + bios/teams below!

i think about this group ALOT!!! if i had any confidence in writing i would easily share the whole hgss rewrite i have in my head but alas… just take my drawings instead! i like to give characters more “realistic” outfits… not really a modern au? i love to imagine the pokemon world with all our worlds pop culture which inspires my designs! long post but enjoy!!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

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⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

lyra + 20. champion ranked trainer

♡ Raised by her single mother, aunt and older cousin Kris in the small New Bark home. Her father died when she was 6 in a mining incident involving Team Rocket. Bubbles, her ace Azumarill, was gifted to Lyra by her father on her 5th birthday - being her final gift from him.

♡ Extremely outgoing, sweetly optimistic and immensely empathic. Absolutley loves making friends and talking to every kind of person. However, is extremely competitive & stubbon and gets frustrated easily - resulting in her giving up quickly but is also extremely quick to be re-motivated. Often feels the emotions of others intensely. Very country girl with an extremely strong Johtoian accent and lisp. Loves 'girly' things like makeup + fashion, period dramas and collecting nick-nacks but also loves spending her days outdoors, espcially in the National Park with Ethan watching the bug-catching contests or the Safari Zone.

♡ Struggled with her battle confidence as a young trainer which resulted in her having to re-battle Falkner and Bugsy several times. Over her journey grew an appreciation for pokemon perceived to be 'weak' & cute and built her team around showing the powers of these types of pokemon. Despite being a Champion Ranked trainer, Lyra opted to work with Ethans grandparents at the daycare center where she specialises in pokemon breeding and training weaker pokemon + their trainers.

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silver + 23. champion ranked trainer

♡ Only child of Rocket Boss, Giovanni. Was born and raised on Island 5 of the Sevii Islands by multiple admins, most commonly Archer before running away to Johto. Has a deep rooted and consistent fear that he’ll never amount to anything but “Giovanni's kid”. Was extremely tight lipped about his upbringing to the trio, especially after learning of his loose connection to Lyras father’s passing. Finally told them the truth of his family after the defeat and final disbandment of Team Rocket.

♡ Originally extremely standoffish, condescending and at times, aggressive. As an adult is still quite serious and independent, but genuinely enjoys the time he spends with his friends and is surprisingly protective of them - especially Lyra and Kris. As time passed, his anger towards his father evolved more into guilt, however, over the years has become more patient, gentle and forgiving with not only others but himself. He still can come off quite intimidating to strangers, but these changes are noticeably visible to those close to him. While usually a quiet person, has a very dry and witty sense of humour that takes most people by surprise.

♡ Mentored by Lance, and later Blue, and spends a large amount of time training in the Dragons Den. While unsure of what direction he wants his life to go into, Lance is adamant he would make a fantastic gym leader or elite four member. Always accompanies Lyra to the yearly Champion Balls and Alola trips. Currently lives in a small beachside bungalow with Lyra in Cherrygrove where he enjoys spending his free time reading and teaching himself guitar.

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ethan + 21

♡ The childhood friend of Lyra, Ethan was raised by his father and grandparents in New Bark. Extremely courteous, friend & family oriented and easy to talk to. A natural comic and can make even the straightest face people crack a slight smile - Red being his proudest achievement. Lax and slightly ditsy but can adapt to any situation and group of people like a flick of a switch. Not the best at articulating himself but always puts 110% into making sure people feel comfortable through his actions.

♡ Completed the 8 Johto gyms but never challenged the Elite Four & Lance in favour for persuing his true passions. Currently works at the Goldenrod Radio Tower where he co-hosts a program consisting of interviewing gym leaders, elite four, champions and other prolific battlers. At nights, does standup in the clubs in the Goldenrod Tunnel. Due to his easy-going nature and career, tends to knows everyone’s buisness + gossip and has crazy experiences with nearly any person imaginable.

♡ Currently lives in a small loft in Goldenrod. Spends his free time watching anime + cartoons or in the National Park either watching the Bug Contests, skating or talking to the old folks. Enjoys the nightlife of Goldenrod where he usually pulls Silver out to bar hop or spend hours playing Voltorb Flip.

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kris + 25

♡ Oldest and mother figure of the group. Was born and grew up in New Bark town with her mother before her cousin Lyra + aunt moved in with them when she was 11. The two shared the large upstairs bedroom growing up where Kris introduced Lyra to contests and the annual Champion & Wallace cups.

♡ Mature, soft spoken and extremely intellegent - both academically and socially. Because of this, can offer solutions on any issue on both a practical and emotional level, no matter the person and situation. Has unique relationships with all three kids but in general sees them as her younger siblings and takes the role as the 'older sister' very seriously. Has a warm and comforting presence, making those even to the likes of Silver feel comfortable confinding in her.

♡ Quite reserved and struggled with her purpose and sexuality growing up, espcially in rural Johto. After the death of her uncle and seeing her daughter’s interests in the Wallace Cups and contests, her mother moved the two to the Hoenn region, settling in Lilycove City when Kris was 13. While starting her gym challenge in the new region, Kris fell in love with Hoenn's unique weather patterns and ecosystems. Eventually she quit the gym challenge to peruse a career as a meteorologist where she now works at the weather institute. When not working, she enjoys attending contests, museums and scuba diving. Finally feeling settled in life, she came out to her family + the trio when she was 20.

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[gonzodangerfeels]

*phone rings*

Me: yo

On the other end of the phone: wife dropped our infant on its head

Me: what the fuck?

[murdrdocs]

80s pornstar logan; age gap; pornstar reader x pornstar logan; doggy; brat!reader MDNI 18+ w/ LOGAN HOWLETT

logan doesn't trust you.

he doesn't know you well enough for you to have gained his trust, but he refuses to get to know you. there's no point. in logan's eyes, there's no reason for you to get comfortable.

you won't be here for long.

he doesn't care how much the studio believes in you, he doesn't believe in you. how could he? you're so fucking green that he can smell it on you. only starred in a couple movies before this one, both nothing compared to the expansive record that he has.

gum-smacking, lip gloss shining under the sun, flowy shirts, and tiny shorts. compared to his cigars, fitted jeans, and plaid, the two of you are polar opposites. even though logan sees something in you. that same arrogance he had at your age. it just looks different on you.

you confront him first. standing beside his car in the studio parking lot, resting your hip on the door like it’s your vehicle. you’re blocking the entrance, lazily smacking your gum as you squint at him.

logan doesn’t say anything. he stands there, hands on his hips, his restless fingers tapping against the worn leather of his belt. he shamelessly lets his eyes rake down your body, taking in the natural shape of your tits through your loose shirt, the expanse of your legs barely covered by your tiny shorts. briefly, logan wonders if you’re shaved like some of the other younger girls he’s filmed with.

he finds himself wanting to find out.

he’s wearing his shades, the thin wire-framed ones with brown lenses. he knows they aren’t opaque, he knows you can see the path his eyes take, but he doesn’t care. he holds off a smile when you adjust your stance and scoff.

“what’s your problem with me?”

logan shrugs dismissively.

apparently, his nonchalance upsets you even more. he expects you to give him some speech about how rude he is, how you deserve to be here just as much as he does, how you earned your spot in this production. whatever your little brain can come up with.

but you give him none of that. you push off of logan's truck, step out of his way, and saunter off with a final call of, "see you on wednesday!".

logan lets his eyes linger on the switch in your hips and the shape of your ass.

his eyes find that same spot on wednesday, his view unobstructed now as your bare skin is illuminated underneath the studio lights. he's just staring and he can't stop. his eyes watching the way your skin ripples as he fucks you from behind, following the curve of your back, all the way up to the crown of your head which reaches for him.

he knows at some point he's supposed to grab the ponytail you have. the director wants him to mess it up as much as possible, providing a good contrast from how dolled up you were before. most of that has been done naturally. for some reason, everything with you seems natural. logan's been in the game for a while, he's had to fake scenes before. it's part of the job description, to act according to how the audience would want the sex to go. but with you, logan doesn't think he's been acting at all.

the energy buzzes around his entire body the entire time. he doesn't ever forget that you're both being filmed, it would be hard to, but he loses himself in it. he loses himself in the way you know just what to do. the way you angle your body perfectly according to the camera position, the way you speak to him, the way you're so visibly remembering every single direction you were giving before filming began.

your competence is hot.

by the time filming is over and a production assistant is handing you a warm towel and your robe, logan's fucking spent.

you're just there grinning, watching logan down an entire bottle of water in one go. when he comes up for air, you stand before him, keeping your eyes on his.

"i see why you're known for your stamina," is all you say to him before you turn away and disappear, possibly unaware of the semi that was brewing beneath the towel covering logan's hips. 

the next time logan sees you, it's through a headshot. sitting on the casting director's desk, amongst three others, all labeled with names and facing him. he stands there for a second, hands crossed over his chest as he scans every picture.

"we just need to know who you think would be good for the next job," the casting director reiterates, his words smooth as they wrap around logan's mind.

logan doesn’t know why he’s pretending, why he's taking so long to answer a question that he knows the answer to.

he slides your picture up higher than the rest and leaves it at that.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Johnny Lawrence’s daughter

Johnny Lawrence x daughter!reader

warnings: alcohol, underage drinking, classic johnny sexism <3

a/n: WHAT! ME write a fic thats not gn, i know. im shocked too but its just bc i feel johnny is so gender-stereotypey that doing this gn wouldn’t work very well but very open to a son!r or nb!r if anyone is interested (bc seriously. johnny cannot help but bring up genders). also i just want to say that a lot of this (not all!) honestly reminds me of or are actual things that have happened w my dad bc johnny is literally my dad if my dad was like 8 years older i think also i wrote this all in one sitting ALSO NO COBRA KAI SEASON 6 SPOILERS

prompt:

GIRL DAD!

you always kinda just gravitated toward living with your dad

“y/n, i’m so proud of you. i never have to worry about you. you can take care of yourself. robby on the other hand, i worry about him. i think girls are just more self sufficient” -johnny, a little drunk

“thanks dad” -you, also a little drunk (hes a “cool dad”)

he was the type of parent that “prefers that if you’re gonna do something stupid at least do it while he’s around” aka underage drinking

whenever he stays out late you fall asleep in his bed. and lock him out

“y/n! open the door!” -johnny, banging on the door

“no! your bed is more comfortable” -you

he thought it was sweet honestly but he did want to sleep in his bed

sort of like a lesson not to come home late all drunk and gross

he was VERY against letting you drive his car

“dad, i need my license!” -you

“no woman is getting behind the wheel of my firebird” -johnny

“why do you have to make it about women? i’ll fight you” -you

“you’ll lose that fight” -johnny

“oh, so you’d fight a teenage girl? wow, real classy, dad” -you

“no, but i’d fight my teenage daughter. i brought you into this world and i’ll take you out” -johnny

you honestly had a great sense of humor with johnny, but you’d check him if he said anything too messed up

“dad, it’s not the 80’s anymore, you can’t say that” -you

“dont tell me what i can and cant say! the 80’s were awesome, i wish it was the 80’s again” -johnny

“so i’ve heard” -you

he helped you with your homework as a kid until like, 2nd grade when multiplication and division got involved

he did teach you karate growing up! but mostly the basics, for self defense purposes

“hey, never let any guy try to impress you with his karate skills. he’s probably a douche” -johnny, pausing “i sure was”

late night movie marathons (70s/80s classics for sure)

he took care of you during your first hangover (high school parties, ya know)

“didn’t i teach you better than to mix liquors” -johnny

“ugghhhh” -you

yes, you have heard about daniel larusso. enough said LMAO

robby and you had a kind of sweet but distant relationship

occasional check-in texts

robby: are you doing okay with dad? he’s actually buying food and shit?

you: yeah! he’s fine right now, how’s mom? new stepdad yet? is he rich?

robby: mom’s not going anywhere she’d find a rich guy, but keep dreaming

you wear a lot of your dad’s old t-shirts. usually band tee’s

oh and he made sure you got into the “right music”

he used to drive you around in the firebird when you were a SMALL CHILD (front seat, no car seat!) and blast his old cassettes

for YEARS he’d pull the “who is this” “what song is this” game with the reasoning:

“if you wear a band shirt and some asshole asks you to name three songs, i want you to name ten” -johnny

listen. you were still “daddy’s girl” or whatever used to be a cute little saying and is now ruined but whatever

“dad, can i have twenty bucks?” -you

“for what” -johnny

“for fun. pleaseeee” -you

*johnny pulls out his wallet and gives you $40*

could he afford it? no. can he say no? also no.

the absolute fear he felt when you got your first period

“it’s fine, i can call mom” -you

“no, it’s not fine! i’ve had girlfriends before, i got this. stay here, i’ll be back” -johnny

he went to the store and bought the most random assortment of period products and pain meds and snacks and a heating pad

A for effort

when the diaz family moved in across from you guys, miguel took one look at you and johnny said:

“stay away from my daughter”

when the karate fuss got started you tried to keep your distance but sooner or later you joined the dojo and proved to your dad just how “badass” you could be

“take notes everyone, y/n’s gonna be the next all valley champ!” -johnny

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @retvenkos // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @an4aaa // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @sapphireplums // @petersgroupie // @ravenhood2792 // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @elemental-of-magic //

[ham1lton]

SHE’S SO LUCKY, SHE’S A STAR!

pairing: charles leclerc × famous!reader.

warnings: mentions of mental health. slightly angsty.

summary: lucky is the dream girl. she has everything. the man, the career, and the fame…. or does she?

faceclaim: britney spears ♡

author’s note: this has been in my drafts for SO long. glad to share it with you. let me know if you enjoyed it! <3

— part of the diva anthems series ♪

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liked by lucky, landonorris and 1,383,737 others.

charles_leclerc: happy music video release day to the love of my life! thank you for letting me be a part of your journey. i’m your biggest fan until the end of the road.

also keep an eye out for my cameo on oops!… i did it again - out now! :)

tagged: @ lucky

view all 234,982 comments

user1: he’s so whipped it’s adorable. he truly loves her.

user2: the album is so good. this is crazy!! the album of the year.

*liked by charles_leclerc*

user3: favourite song?

-> charles_leclerc: i love them all…. but dear diary.

user4: charles in his acting era omg.

-> user5: charles leclerc: f1 driver, astronaut, actor and official wag to thee yn.

-> user6: lucky has his ass WORKING 😭

user7: charles going from having a crush on yn to dating her?? he needs to give me his game card. i need to use it on theo james.

user8: OOPS U THINK IM IN LOVE THAT IM SENT FROM ABOOOOOOVVVVEEE

-> user9: IM NOT THAT INNOCENTTT

user10: video vixen charles 😍

user11: the titanic reference omg!!!

lucky: i love you!!! i’m your biggest fan. this album wouldn’t be here without you. 💕

-> charles_leclerc: 💕

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"so are we ready for the tour" your manager speaks to your team. you're wearing a threadbare t-shirt that you stole from charles' wardrobe and a pair of jeans that were more comfortable than stylish.

no one commented on your lack of makeup.

“i can't do a tour." you say, softly.

“you have to. it's the best way to make money. the more shows you do, the more money you make."

“it’s not that. it's just... i'm tired." being lucky, the superstar was a façade. one that you felt that only you could pull off.

it took a certain amount of mental fortitude to lie to everyone in your life.

"maybe next year? can we delay it at least?"

"what about your fans? you know the music industry, yn. the less you strike while the iron is hot, the bigger the chance you’ll be irrelevant when the next new thing comes out.” a executive says. “besides, we’ve already announced it.”

to be genuinely honest, you didn’t care. it would have been absolutely fine for you to retire now. you felt that you’d made your mark. tours would drag you away from your loved ones, they require constant discipline and a lot of effort. something which you didn’t have a lot of at the moment.

“okay. how many shows?”

“not too many. around 80/90.”

you bite your inner cheek and nod. there isn’t anything else you can do.

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liked by billieeilish, beyoncé and 2,493,928 others.

lucky: this has been a work that has been lovingly crafted by so many people. i want to thank my team, everyone who helped to bring this album to life. my best friend who would always bring coffee to set, my makeup artist and stylist tina who helped me create this gorgeous look and my incredible fans who make every release one i look forward to sharing to you. ‘oops!… i did it again’ is out now!

also i see you already getting your red jumpsuits ready for halloween!! tina’s already posted a list of makeup products on her ig - @makeupbyti.

also the biggest thank you to my biggest fan, my confidante and my forever muse - @charles_leclerc. this album wouldn’t be possible without you. thanks for being my first listener. i love you till the end of the road 💕

view all 107,928 comments

user1: THANK YOU TINA!

-> lucky: we love tina in this household 💕

user2: “HER FOREVER MUSE” excuse me while i sob, scream and perhaps cry.

-> user3: i need a love like theirs one day.

user4: ALBUM BANGS

user5: NOW IM STRONGER THAN YESTERDAY!

-> user6: NOW IT’S NOTHIN BUT MY WAY

-> user7: MY LONELINESS AINT KILLIN ME NO MOREEE!

user8: ONE KISS FROM YOU!! AND SUDDENLY

-> user9: I SEE THE ROAD LEAD OUT IN FRONT OF MEEEE

user10: IM A CMULM STAN! SOTY!!!! 😋

billieeilish: thank you for letting me help write some songs alongside you. i love you 🖤

-> lucky: love you the most billie. thank you!!

-> user4: this is my favourite music friendship. so cute.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

you pull out your phone when you see charles ringing. you smile to yourself and lie it against the pillow across from you. when the facetime connects, you see he’s in the same position as you. sleep rumbled with flushed cheeks and twinkly eyes.

you want to kiss him but you’re in amsterdam and he’s in madrid. you doubt you would even have time to make it, even if you could justify the expense to your team.

“hi sweet girl.” he grins at you. “you look pretty.”

“you’re prettier. didn’t you see the tweets? i manifested you.” you laugh slightly. “lucky girl with a gorgeous boyfriend.”

“opposite way around actually. lucky guy.”

“i miss you.” you sigh, looking around your hotel room. it’s gorgeous. it has everything you could possibly want or need and if it didn’t, a quick phone call downstairs would immediately rectify that. but you miss charles. you miss your best friend. you miss your home.

“i miss you too. next time i get a break i’m flying to wherever you are and that’s a promise. okay?”

“okay.”

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

FIVE MONTHS LATER.

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liked by messyfan1, messyfan2 and 1,827,346 others

ham1ltonshaderoom: according to sources, singer yn yln and athlete charles leclerc have broken up. the reason being that their busy schedules had gotten too intense for the two of them to handle. singer yn, also known by her stage name lucky, has just embarked on her newest world tour and driver charles is currently travelling for his f1 races.

sources state that their families and friends were all ‘shocked’ by the news as it seemingly came out of the blue. with one party stating that he had seen them only a month earlier and they were ‘all over each other’:

view the link in bio for more information, but how are we feeling at the demise of the power couple ham1ltons?

view all 497,868 comments

user1: well how is he gonna stay relevant now?

-> user2: he’s an f1 driver. i think he’ll be fine.

-> user1: don’t gaf. he’s a flop. how do you fumble THEE yn yln?

user3: NOOOOOOOOOO JUST FELL TO MY KNEES

user4: wait um… why am i happy… yn is single now

user5: him breaking up with her because she got successful is sick. men always want to destroy a woman when they become more successful than them.

-> user6: we don’t know that’s why they broke up or that he was the one who initiated. it could have been her or it could have been mutual.

user7: good. he’s been driving like shit since he started dating her.

-> user8: okay now that’s a lie 😭

user9: this is so sad. they were in love just before she went on the tour. could they not handle long distance?

-> user10: probably not. while yn was writing and recording, she was able to be more flexible so she would travel with charles wherever he went but being on tour means she can’t do that.

-> user11: this makes me believe it was his fault and he broke up with her.

-> user10: i always hated them together anyways. athletes are always bad news.

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liked by pierregasly, landonorris and 1,626,727 others.

charles_leclerc: leo, frank and i.

view all 238,727 comments

user1: the dog is so cute :(

user2: is it true y’all?? did they really break up?

-> user3: they kept all the pictures of each other on their profile and he still follows her.

user4: CHARLES MARC HERVÉ PERCEVAL LECLERC WHAT IS GOING ON 😭

user9: the frank song… oh they’re over :(

-> user10: he’s playing SELF CONTROL too 😭😭

-> user11: is the lyric choice deliberate? yn cried on stage the other day :(

-> user12: idk omg. it sounds like a dick move if so… poor lucky :((

user5: that f1 gossip page was lowkey right because yn is halfway through her tour and he hasn’t been to ONE tour date.

-> user6: thats lowkey crazy when u consider how she would always come to his races to support him.

user7: i just want them back together :( they were the only celeb couple i could stomach.

-> user8: no deadass. they were my taylor/travis.

user13: frank ocean…. this is the most post-breakup ex boyfriend post ever 😭 charlesynnies we lost.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

PARTIAL PHONE TRANSCRIPT BETWEEN YN YLN AND CHARLES LECLERC. — LEAKED BY TMZ.

YLN (CRYING): i hate it. i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry charles. i didn’t want to do it. i just can’t do it anymore.

LECLERC: hey, it’s okay. i get it. it’s okay. i’m not upset with you. i’m not angry.

YLN: i fucking hate touring. i hate it so much. it takes everything from me. i broke up with you because i knew you’d get tired of me. that the tour would make me a shell of myself and you’d inevitably dislike me.

LECLERC: where did you get that from?

YLN: that’s what my ex did. i don’t even blame him.

LECLERC: but i’m not him. i understand that it takes a lot from you but a relationship isn’t supposed to be 50/50 all the time. sometimes it’s 90/10 or 70/30. it’s okay for me to help you. you’ve already done what? two thirds of the tour? not too much left to get through and then you’ll be free. you can do it.

YLN: i know. i just hate it. i love my fans and i love making music but the tour is just too much. this is my third tour in two years…. i miss you. i’m sorry.

LECLERC: i miss you too yn. there is nothing to be sorry about.

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liked by messyass1, messyass2 and 2,837,123 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: tmz leaked the audio of a emotional phonecall between exes superstar yn yln, more famously known as lucky, and f1 athlete charles leclerc. the two minute leak has the global superstar crying about her current tour and her ex-boyfriend comforting her.

what do we think of the leak ham1ltons?

view all 789,927 comments

user1: oh this is so disgusting my god.

user2: whoever leaked this go to hell. this was very much a private moment between the two.

user3: yn’s management need to let her take a break. a album and a world tour EVERY YEAR is insane!!! i’m surprised she hasn’t burnt out yet.

-> user4: she’s reaching the end of her rope and that makes sm sense. this is a insane amount of work and she’s only in her early twenties!!!

user5: charles was so sweet. at least we know it wasn’t his fault but i feel so much for lucky :( she doesn’t deserve this.

user6: poor lucky :( her management should go to hell!!!

user7: she needs more people looking out for her. this is awful. why would someone even record this anyways???

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liked by ynswifey, messyass1 and 828,726 others.

charlesupdates: charles was spotted in rio de janeiro/galeão–antonio carlos jobim international airport! he signed a bunch of stuff for fans and then had to head off before taking any pictures! i wonder where he’s headed? 🤔

view all 124,837 comments

user1: OMGGGGG

user2: LUCKY IS PERFORMING IN RIO DE JANEIRO

user3: CHARLESYN BACK TOGETHER AGAIN THANK YOU GOD PLEASE

user4: PLEASE PLEASE

user5: ITS HER LAST TOUR DATE PLEASE

user6: i’ve never been this invested in a celebrity relationship ever but i really want this for both of them!!! they seem miserable without each other.

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liked by charles_leclerc, billieeilish and 3,938,737 others.

lucky: and that’s a wrap on the world tour! thank you to all of my incredible fans, the hardworking and talented team behind the scenes and my family and friends for being there for me throughout everything.

a lot of things have been speculated upon and discussed on the internet about me and my life. i am aware of my status and how it endorses these sort of conversations about me but i just want to encourage kindness. we don’t know what someone is going through and a little compassion can go a long way.

i will be taking some time off for my own personal reasons as the tour has wrapped up, but i will see you next year. i love you! stay lucky!!! 💕

tagged: @ charles_leclerc

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user1: WAR IS OVER THANK YOU LORD!!!!!!

user2: take all the time u need lucky!!! we love you!!!

user3: CHARLESYNNIES HOW WE FEELIN??

user4: THE PIC OMG! they’re so cute :(

-> user5: yn was so happy at this concert, and charles was spotted there all four nights!!!

-> user6: i love them 🥺🥺🥺

user7: lucky i hope u spend this time having fun and relaxing!!! u deserve it!!

user8: missed seeing charles being tagged in every lucky post…. IM SO HAPPY THEYRE BACK TOGETHER.

billieeilish: i love u :(

-> lucky: i love u too!!! i’m still around!!! always :)

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liked by lucky, arthur_leclerc and 1,726,828 others.

charles_leclerc: home ♥️

tagged: @ lucky

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— diva anthems taglist: @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @chuxk-lerclerk @ivyvlair @luvsforme @claymoreshaze @mehrmonga

— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @aliciaablueprint @lennnooshh @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @theblueblub @lavisenri @marshmummy @23victoria @ourlifeforchaos @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @tsireyasgf @landososcar @yongi-lee @maxlarens @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong

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[theblacklewinsky]

Note: back with our favorite boo, Terry. It's my birthday, but I guess I can gift y'all with something lol! ❤️

Helpful Neighbors. | Aaron Pierre.

Toxic!Neighbor Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader.

Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( penetrat!on. toy play, water sports), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint.

Summary: You confront your noisy neighbor about his loud late night company, he allows you to retaliate.

you fucking nasty,

first you cum and then you wipe it on my ass cheeks.

There wasn't much that you knew about your neighbor Terry. You knew he was generally friendly, you bringing him a small housewarming gift of a bath and bodywork's candle when he'd first moved in months prior. You knew he was a vet based on the marines sticker on the bumper of his pick up. You knew he was active, you often seen him heading out for camping trips, often seeing him in the apartments shared gym area when you'd take time out of your busy schedule to get a short work out in. You knew he was gorgeous, anybody could attest to that.

And he was loud. Very fucking loud.

And if you didn't know anything else, you knew that for sure.

The noise varied. Most nights he was particularly quiet, you wouldn't even have noticed anybody lived there if you hadn't seen him before. But some nights, he was a little loud. Metal music from an 80's band bled through the apartment walls, straight into your bedroom, you actually didn't mind it—being an exhausted charge nurse, the metal music did something for you, calming you in a strange way. Him seemingly fixing something, sometimes in the latest hours, drilling, hammering.

But it wasn't any of that. There wasn't any metal music. But he was sure drilling or hammering somebody. And she was extensively louder than anything you'd heard from Terry's apartment. You had to quickly grab your remote, muting your comfort show on your television to make sure she wasn't screaming blood murder.

It wasn't bloody murder, but she was screaming alright. You sighed, it was your first off day in two weeks of working straight in the trauma unit of the local hospital. It'd been a viscous stomach bug going around, and with the big panic from the prior pandemic, the hospital wasn't risking another one slipping up—so work was rough, and long.

But maybe you were bitter? It'd been way too long since you'd properly got your rocks off—not anything involving your beloved rose. So maybe you were just a bit bitter that at least somebody was getting theirs. Good for him! Just not on tonight. Not this night. You'd planned to crawl in bed, eat the most unhealthiest snacks in your cabinet and watch your comfort show, and maybe weep the prior two weeks out onto your pillow, you deserved a good cry after all, girl.

You sighed heavily, placing the pillow over your head letting out a groan. You'd definitely have to catch him in the morning and talk about this, cause this was outrageous.

Maybe sleep was out of the equation, but you'd definitely moved on to weeping.

The morning sprung and you jumped into action. Due to working 7AM to 7PM, you left out for work around the same time as a Terry did his morning runs. 6AM.

You woke up at 5:30 on a mission, brushing your teeth and doing your skincare and putting on your biggest t-shirt, sweatpants to match, oh you meant business.

You caught him as soon as he'd left his door, jogging the opposite way of your apartment toward the elevators before you called out to him. He turned confused at first until he noticed you, giving a lazy morning smile as he did. Black compression shirt, with the pair of black basketball shorts to match. He had no business being so damn fine. But you weren't deterred by that, last night was fucking atrocious.

"Goodmornin', beautiful," he smoothly recited like he did every morning. He was just nice like that. He said it every morning without fail, he always found something to compliment you on. New color of scrubs, how you decided to get your hair, even sweeter when he sees you out of your deliciously fitting scrubs.

"Good morning Terry," you smiled weakly, "I don't mean to disturb your routine, but can we talk for a minute?" You uneasily shifted your weight. You weren't good with confrontation, it just wasn't in your nature, but you didn't play about your sleep.

He nodded and you walked inside still holding the door open for him to signal him to follow you. He did, his smile faltering a bit once he came inside, you could tell he was confused a little thrown off.

You closed the door behind y'all, moving into your large kitchen area to pour yourself a mug of coffee. "Want some?" You politely asked him to which he politely rejected holding up his thermal water bottle.

You added your usual fixings to your coffee, taking a cautious sip, cradling your mug in your hand before you continued. "I don't mean to be confrontational when I say this," you walked around him heading into the living area, plopping on your newly purchased gray plush sectional, " but you were very ...loud last night." You chose your words, nicely.

He featured you a puzzling look, his finger gesturing to the comfortable chair adjacent to you, "of course." You quickly obliged before he took a seat, uneasily continuing. "Your lady...company, I meant." Sex talk wasn't your thing. Sex was sacred to talk about for you—and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable at all.

"Oh shit," he softly cursed, his expression filled with slight concern, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were bein' so loud, I hope we ain't keep you up."

"Oh, it's not a big deal," you quickly intercepted not wanting him to feel any type of way, "it's just my first day off in a couple of weeks so I just wanted to wind down with some quiet time and you guys were very...vocal," you chuckled to diffuse the awkwardness of the conversation, to which he added a light chuckle of his own, "at least somebodies getting their rocks off around here." You said jokingly before taking a sip of coffee. You hoped that didn't sound suggestive.

A short moment of silence followed your statement before you recognized Terry's eyes locked on something behind you for responding, "I see I ain't the only one gettin' mine," you furrowed your brows slowly turning your attention to where he was previously locked on. Your rose, sitting cleaned and comfortably on your end table.

You really had to learn to start putting shit back. 

Or maybe not.

Somehow you found yourself on your back, pinned to the couch, Terry folding you up in missionary, knees to your chest, rose to your clit as he gave you long, deep, torturing strokes. You couldn't even remember the quick and somehow satisfying foreplay you'd taken to get here—and you didn't even care anymore. You could feel the fat tip of his dick kissing your cervix, and as if you weren't loud enough, you got louder. How ironic? You could barely hear yourself think, or were you thinking at all?

"Mhm," he hummed, his face composed, nothing but his teeth lightly sunken into his bottom teeth as he drilled you in, finger tips of his thumb and pointer finger giving your right nipple light squeezes and tugs, he kept his eyes on you, even when they rolled back, quickly turning up the vibrator, "look at you, mama. Why you bein' so vocal? Why you bein' so fuckin' loud, baby?" He taunted.

"My god, Terry," you whined, breathless, he kept up, dick hitting that spot that made your toes curl. How was he so good at this shit? You understood her completely. It wasn't atrocious at all. Very understandable. Very justified.

"Yeah, baby?" He quirked his brow up, his own soft groans almost mocking yours. "You want her to hear you? She still next door, wake her ass up mama. She kept you up all night didn't she?" He asked tearing his fingers away from your nipples to slap firmly against your cheek prompting an answer from you.

"Yessss," you slurred out, throat raw from moaning and groaning. You'd say yes to anything he asked you in this moment. You'd adopt six German kids and live on a farm with him if he requested you to do so in this moment, the world was his oyster. He was digging you out so good, so deliciously good. He was getting more than your rocks off and you knew that when the pressure in the pit of your tummy came weighing down on your bladder. "Ooouuu fuck! Fuck I'm gonna—"

"Yeah," he chuckled, evil all evident in his tone, all in his smile as he glanced down to the mess unfolding between y'all, "wet this dick up baby, I feel that shit." He groaned, eyes zoning in on the creamy ring you were leaving around him. "Wet me up, and you better wake her ass up when you do."

"Cumming!" You abruptly announced nearly cutting him off from his lewd rant, the sounds of your own arousal clashing with his dick sent you tumbling over the edge, clear juices spurting out of you with so much force it ejected him out as well. It only prompted a more lazy laugh out of him, shaking the suction of the rose on your clit even faster. Trembling underneath him, your breath hitched in your throat as he sent you into complete overdrive, your voice was hoarse once a moan came tumbling out of you loud and broken. Why did you cum so hard from knowing that she was next door, possibly hearing you get your nut off with him?

"I like that shit, mama," he mumbled to you, turning the rose off slapping his free hand down on your clit, watching your body jerk in response. He said nothing dipping his body down momentarily to give your soft, sensitive nub three sloppy, mind numbing sucks. He was so loud and lewd with it, smacks loud, tongue slurping loudly. You were too turned on, too sensitive, but too fucked out to even object given how sensitive you were. He stood up on his knee once again, other floor planted flat on the ground. "Sticking up so pretty f'me and shit," he hummed, "put that ass in the air, I'm finna give her some more."

You whined, you were too tired to move. If this was sex? What the fuck were you having before? And he seemed to insatiable, how was he asking you for more when you already so tattered from your last orgasm?

"Can't," you weakly managed to get out.

He took the initiative to help you, his hands firmly grasping your hips and flipping you over roughly, bringing your hips up into the air, spreading out so nicely for him. He moaned in response, looking at how both your holes seemed to open for him. He slapped his massive hand against your ass cheek, the loud sound seemingly filling your quiet apartment, a high wince following behind it, his dick twitching at the recoil. "You gon be a good girl for daddy and hold this shit on your clit while I take care of you back here?" He asked you the dominating reference only furthering the throbbing in your pussy, one hand softly kneading the sting out from his slap. You could hear the quiet buzzing from behind you, head nodding eagerly as your hand reached from under you, making grabby motions for the toy.

Once it was in your possession, you placed it where he asked you, body lightly trembling since your clit hadn't had a moment long enough without stimulation. Both his large hands had been planted on your ass cheeks, spreading you apart for him. He groaned in response, spitting down onto your second hole winking for him so sweetly, you moaned in response to his lewd action. "Fuck yeah," he muttered sending another lighter slap to your ass. No further words were spoken as he grabbed his girthy member in his hands, fat tip rubbing softly against your slit before he stretched you open once again around him.

A loud whine erupted from you as soon as you felt him sliding into you, stretching you, the light sting providing the perfect pain to compliment the pleasure of him literally stuffing you. It was mind numbing for him, feeling you stretch and clench around him so perfectly, gummy, wet walls feeling so warm and snug around him. "Pussy so fuckin' good," he muttered not sure to who, you or him.

His strokes had already started off staggering; hard and deep. Pelvis slamming into your ass with loud, rippling sounds through your apartment, the force literally nudging your couch across the floor. You couldn't care about the scratches you knew were now engrained in your hardwood flooring, everything was so good. Too good.

"Fuckkkk!" You slurred out, eyes fluttering closed, face pressed against the plush cushions beneath you. Brainless wasn't the word for you. You were hyper focused on the pleasure you were receiving, the vibrations from the toy, Terry's back breaking strokes, and the sounds of your arousal around him didn't help the diagnosis. Your free hand held onto the top of the couch for a sense of stability. "Why—why you fuckin' me like this?!" You stammered out through a moan, voice hoarse and broken.

"What you mean, mama?" He asked through a groan, sending another rough slap to your ass. "You such a good girl, you deserve this dick. Workin' all hard and shit, always lookin' so fuckin' good." He grunted, working himself inside of you. Thumb tracing your asshole teasingly. "You deserve some good dick, baby."

The praise only heightened your moans, encouraging you to slam your ass back on him until you felt your own orgasm once again lurking around the corner.

"Show the fuck out, then, baby," he said breathlessly, stilling his own movements as he watched as you fucked yourself on his dick, ass slamming back onto his pelvis with dizzying recoil.

"Shiiiit! I'm finna cummmm!" You moaned out, your movements only increasing in pace, using him for your own pleasure now. And he ate that shit up.

"That's right, get that nut mama. Get yo' shit, fuck me," he affirmed through a series of groans accentuating your own, "fuck, I feel all that shit. Nasty ass bitch, get that nut." His dirty words filling your ears as you released around him, halting your movements. Squirting for the second time, the orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks literally. This one cramped your muscles as it temporarily paralyzed you, huge steaks of pleasure coursing through you. Terry didn't give you a moment to recover, his own climax brewing in the background. He resumed his strokes as if he never stopped, powerful, fast and hard. The rose clobbered to the floor with a hard thud, still buzzing away as your body flattened into the couch, Terry using his upper body strength to drop dick in you.

"You runnin?" He asked breathlessly through a series of overstimulating strokes to your pussy. "Why you runnin? Daddy, let you get yours right? Let daddy get his." He hummed to you.

You couldn't tell him you were overstimulated. Could you talk at all? Were you even breathing? What the fuck even was this?

"Dick got you goin' stupid, look at you," he groaned, dick hitting that spot again, and again. You came again, with announcement. You hadn't even known you were that close again. "Fuck, you keep cummin' on my dick."

Your voice came back to you in little squeals, nodding in agreement to his last statement.

"Pussy so good—I'm finna nut baby," his voice rushed and panicked as he kept up his strokes, "fuck I'm finna nut—shit!" He hurriedly pulled out of you, groans and grunts spilling from him earnestly as warm, ropes of cum painted your ass.

That was so unreal.

You focused on steadying yourself as you heard Terrys whispered curses behind you. It wasn't long before you heard his lazy chuckle, soft lips kissing down your spine causing a small chill to sneak through you. "You good?"

"Yes? I dunno," you answered bleakly, voice rasped out. Terry laughed gently, hands rubbing some warmth into your thighs and midsection.

"You enjoyed yourself?" He asked softly, kissing up to your neck, and shoulder tenderly. You nodded eagerly to his question, earning another chuckle for him. He sounded so good. "I'm glad, where towels at pretty girl. Lemme clean you up."

"Bathroom closet," you jammed your finger in the direction of the closet. You were halfway into a slumber when Terry came back with a warm towel, cleaning you up gently.

You knew for a fact it was gonna be a lot of noise coming from the both of your apartments.

-

still don't have a tag list together but I hope y'all enjoyed another toxic Terry fic 🫡 my favorite Terry after all! Happy Friday! 💗

[keikikait]

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader (both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 3.3k

summary: steve recently got a new camera for his birthday, and can only think about one thing he wants to film

warnings: SMUT 18+!, a lil fluffy, being filmed, i wasn't alive in the 80's so i might get stuff wrong, slight dom!steve, slight sub!reader, oral (f receiving - steve's a munch argue with the wall), this is literally just steve being a munch. not proofread

a note: my first ever fic for stranger things!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

“No, lemme see - I wanna see it!”

You pry the camera out of Steve’s hands, clutching it. You admire the camera, a Sony CCDTRV118 Hi8 Camcorder, careful not to smear any fingerprints across the lens. You giggle as he grumbles, trying to grab the camera back. “Your parents really shelled out this year, Stevie.”

Steve snatches the camera out of your hands, ignoring your protest, and puts the lens cap back on. “It was the only thing I asked for. It came with a deck to record tapes, too. They’ve been holding it over my head all week.”

Your eyes widen, knowing how expensive those can get. You’ve never had one yourself, just seeing them on the shelves of Sears before finally seeing one today up close and personal. “Damn. You're going to have a hell of a time repaying them.”

Steve shrugs. “Eh. I'll just record my baby cousin's christening next week and they'll drop it.”

You move to sit down on his bed, cross-legged, playing with the frills on the hem of your white socks. The window was open, a necessity for the hot summer you were caught in the midst of. The first cool breeze of the evening swept into Steve's room, carrying with it the scent of hot air and the oak trees planted around the Harrington property. The curtains, a soft blue muslin, floated gently in the breeze. “Did you only invite me over to show me your new camera?”

Steve grins, setting the camera down on his desk. “That...and I wanted to ask you something.”

You tilt your head in confusion, a soft smile on your face as you admire him. Freshly showered, hair still slightly damp, in a loose-fitting dark blue t-shirt and a black pair of jeans, no doubt from Eddie’s influence. “Yeah?”

Steve moves towards you and pushes on your shoulders, laying you down on your back. He crawls on top of you, pressing his hips into yours. “Yeah. I was thinking...how would you feel if we filmed a movie together? Hmm?” He brushes some hair out of your face. 

You bite your lip, sliding your hands under his t-shirt, brushing your hands over his back.  His skin is so warm and so soft, and you feel yourself melting. “What kinda movie?”

“Oh, the good kind.” He whispers before kissing you, his lips pressing firmly against yours as his tongue slides into your mouth, exploring and making you shiver. His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you up against him.

You giggle, kissing him back. You get momentarily lost in the way he tastes and the feel of his lips before you pull away to speak, “Are you asking me to make a porno?”

“A home movie,” Steve corrects, a sly grin on his face. “Totally not the same thing, baby. It’s not a porno if it’ll only be seen by us.”

You giggle, moving one of your hands to his hair, running your fingers through it. “You wanna make me a pornstar?”

“You wouldn't be the star of the movie; I would be.” He pauses mid-kiss to grin at you. “Think of it more like…” He pauses again, searching for words. “Like, a...a feature film starring me and...and a really hot co-star.”

“And what’s in it for me?” You ask, playing along.

“I can think of a few things.” He grins. “A starring role in someone's wildest fantasy, for one. A spot in a home movie that'll be around forever for the people who make it...it could be a classic.”

“Hmm, right, right.” You say, kissing him on the lips again. 

“Think of the bragging rights!” He laughs quietly against your lips. “It could be your claim to fame. Your legacy.”

“Ah, yes, my legacy,” You say. “The girl that got railed by Steve Harrington as he taped the whole thing.”

He leans back, pretending to be offended. “You know, now that you put it like that it doesn't sound so romantic.”

“Oh, it’s supposed to be romantic?” You chuckle.

“Are you telling me you don't think I'm a romantic guy?” His grin widens. “That's kind of hurtful. I thought I was being smooth.”

“Smooth like crunchy peanut butter.”

Steve groans in mock pain, pulling you to his chest as he rolls onto his side. You laugh, and he finds it adorable, holding you close as he sticks his tongue out and pretends to die from your insult.

After a few seconds, he looks at you. “I’m serious, ya know. I wanna make a lil movie with you. I wouldn’t share it anywhere, it would just be for us to watch.”

You smile softly, looking over at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I really do.” He moves some of your hair aside, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment. “It'll be...our own little thing. Something to keep to ourselves.”

You bite your lip. “Then let’s do it.”

"There's the enthusiasm I was looking for." He laughs breathlessly, leaning down to kiss your neck. His teeth rake against the skin, biting and sucking at the sensitive area as he moves his hands up your shirt. He moves his face up to kiss you, his kisses turn from slow and sweet to almost desperate, as if he was afraid he wouldn’t get another kiss again. His hand grips at your waist, and you shiver under his touch. "You are so beautiful. You know that, right? God, I'm so damn lucky."

You giggle, pulling his shirt over his head. “You’re one to talk.”

Steve chuckles, lifting his back so you can pull the shirt off and toss it on the floor next to the bed. "I get that a lot." His hands move to your lower back, toying with the hem of your shirt as he presses you to him. He kisses at your jaw, a mischievous smile on his face as his fingers dance along your skin, sliding up your back. He pauses speaking again, "You know what, let's keep it even." In one quick motion, he slides your shirt off your body, tossing it somewhere in his room. He stares at your bare chest for a moment, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Much better.”

He greedily slides his hands over your tits as you squirm, slowly getting more and more desperate. A thin veil of sweat covers your body, your least favourite thing about the summertime, but he doesn’t mind. Steve bites back a moan as he roughly squeezes your tits, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Your back arches deliciously and he grins, squeezing your nipples hard.

Steve's hands start wandering all along your body. They're warm against your bare skin, and his touch feels almost electric whenever he moves to touch something new. His fingers brush along your hip, tracing the waistband of your shorts while his breaths become heavier. He whispers your name, almost in a plea as he looks down at you, like the sight of you is the most beautiful thing in the world. "God, you drive me crazy, you know that?"

You blush. “Theres no need to butter me up, Steve. I’m already in your bed topless.”

He laughs breathlessly. "Can't help it. Every time I look at you I just wanna...worship you." His fingers hook under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down slowly. "You drive me goddamn crazy. I don't deserve someone as beautiful as you."

Your heart flutters. “You deserve the world, Stevie.”

It's his turn to blush now, a bright red blush spreading across his cheeks as he looks away. "God, you really don't know what you're doing to me, do you?" His thumb brushes over your hip bone, the cool metal of the ring on his right thumb contrasting with the heat of his skin. You and Steve have matching rings, yours sitting neatly on your left middle finger. "You're gonna be the death of me, baby.”

You grin mischievously. “Not doin’ anything.”

He laughs softly, shaking his head as he continues his work in removing your skirt. "Sure you aren't, brat." There's a fondness to his voice as he speaks, and you smile in return. Steve leans down to kiss your cheek before moving to your neck, then your chest, then your stomach. He plants soft kisses in every spot he can reach, admiring your body all the while. He reaches your lower stomach, kissing just above the hem of your underwear. His hands find your hips, and he glances up at you. "You're perfect.”

He slides his fingers under your underwear when you remember. “Wait, we’re supposed to be filming.” Your voice is breathy, clouded and suffocated by lust and desire.

His hands stop for a moment, eyes widening slightly as he realizes too late. "Right." Slowly, he pulls his head up, sitting to look at you. "Where did I put that…oh, for crying out loud - “ He leans across you to grab the camera off his desk, a light laugh in his voice like he can't believe he forgot. He attaches the camera to the deck, putting in a blank VHS tape. The red light on the camera blinks and Steve turns on the deck to capture the playback. ”I guess we're doing a re-take.”

The red light suddenly makes it all feel real. You shift on the bed as he props it up, shooting directly in between your legs. You feel yourself getting hot and your mouth dries. “Make sure to get my good side.”

A smile forms on his face as he adjusts the camera. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get plenty of good angles. But that’s not for me to say, that’s for us to get all sorts of opinions on…” He takes a glance at your half naked body, pausing. “Damn.”

You suddenly feel shy, shifting on the bed. “What?”

“You’re literally perfect, and all mine,” he says, his words thick against the sound of the deck whirring. He starts unbuttoning his jeans, shimmying out of them before he lays back down on top of you. “This is all mine to worship, hm?” His thumb hooks into the thin hem of your underwear, tugging it down.

You nod, your legs opening even wider as he pulls your underwear off. Thank god you trimmed yourself up this morning. “All yours.”

"God, you're amazing." He gently squeezes your hip, smiling as he presses hot kisses onto your stomach, and gradually lower and lower. "Absolutely perfect. You're killing me, baby." The camera is recording it all, but Steve doesn't care about that. He gently pushes your legs apart to settle in between them, and he lets out a quiet groan at the sight.

You let out a soft whine, almost bucking your hips in his face. “Steve…”

"I know, baby," he purrs, his arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you still. "We'll get to it. Just let me appreciate this." You feel his breath against your skin, warm and sending an electricity through your body. He rubs his thumb over your entrance, gathering some of your wetness before spreading it all over, rubbing your clit in soft circles. Slowly, he presses a kiss against your sensitive heat, and he groans softly, his breath coming in quiet gasps through his nose.

You shiver, your hips bucking, another soft whine tumbling from your mouth.

You feel him smile against you, one of his hands sliding up your thigh, and he presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. He chuckles, "Someone's getting impatient, hmm?"

You can only imagine the footage the camera is capturing.

He puts your legs on his shoulders, spreading your pussy out with his fingers. "Stay still for me," he coos, his breaths coming out heavy against your skin, "there we go..." He runs his tongue up your slit, relishing the whine that comes from you as your thighs try to squeeze around him. He holds you down gently but firmly, letting his eyes close as he savors the taste.

You try your hardest to stay still, gripping the bedsheets tight. His soft hair brushes against your thighs and it makes you shiver, goosebumps littering your body as he moves his tongue from side to side. He takes his time with you, his tongue slowly licking and circling to draw out the most noise from you that he can. He lets out a groan as you whine and mewl, and it's hard not to let his hips press into the bed. His fingers are hot against your thighs, his touch light at first, and then pressing hard enough to keep you from writhing in his grasp.

"Good girl." His teeth graze your skin, and it's enough to make you gasp. His kisses start getting more desperate, and he gives another long swipe across your heat before he decides to focus on your sensitive bundle of nerves. In an instant you feel his tongue against it, and his groan vibrates against you as he holds you steadily in place. “Is that good, baby?”

You nod, struggling to find your voice in the moans and pants.

“Words, baby.” Steve says, blowing air directly on your clit.

You whimper. “Feels so fucking good, Stevie.”

He hums in appreciation. "You're pretty enough to be a goddess. A muse," he murmurs against you, his tongue moving in slow circles now, "and you're all mine." His voice is breathless, his moans almost too much for the microphone to pick up, and he starts to move his tongue in faster circles, drawing mewls and whines from you. Between desperate whines, you could barely make out moans of his name in your haze, your hips trying and failing to jerk against him. "My pretty baby, all mine.”

You gasp and whine. “Fuck, all yours!”

He's relentless against you, almost too much and not enough all at once. His hands grip harder at your thighs, his tongue working in dizzying circles. His grunts and groans vibrate against you, and he glances up at you for a moment, the sight of you a beautiful mess. "So pretty, baby." He doesn't slow his motions, not giving you a chance to recover, and you can feel that he's getting hungry for you. You can hear the sounds of the camera capturing everything, the whirling and clicking as it records it all.

“You’re doing so good, baby. My good girl,” he coos, pausing to gasp between the praise. He switches to small, short strokes as he moans against you, his tongue hitting your sensitive bundle perfectly each time. Every noise he makes seems to excite you, pushing you closer and closer to your edge.

Your hips buck against his face, your clit bumping against his nose.

“That’s it, baby.” Steve’s voice is low and thick with a mix of desire and lust. His tongue flicks against you, bringing out whines with each stroke. His grip on your thighs is tight but careful, his nails pressing into your skin just a little too hard to be unintentional. It’s obvious that he loves this, the taste of you and the sound of your moans are his favourite, and he would never get enough of it. It's the thing that drives him crazy, the thing that makes his mind blank and his body run hot.

Your moans get louder, your head leaning back into the pillow. Steve groans against you, his tongue moving in short, fast circles as he presses his hips into the bed to try and get some friction. His breathing becomes more erratic with each moan from you, and the sounds of licking and panting get louder within the room. His hands grip your hips, his mouth growing hungry as he picks up the pace. “God, the sounds you make…”

You let out a shaky gasp, your thighs clenching around his head.

He moans loudly in response, his mouth moving with fervor as he feels your thighs clench around him. The sounds of the wet, needy movements only grow louder as his tongue hits every sensitive nerve of your clit as it slides against you. “God, baby. I love you. I love you so much.” Steve's groan is breathless as he presses closer, his tongue moving in sloppy, desperate circles now. He wants more.

You squirm and shake when he slides a finger into your cunt, sliding his thumb up and down your slit. His body presses further into the bed as his fingers slide into you without warning. You moan as your back arches off the bed, your whine going up an octave and your body trembling as he works his fingers in time with his tongue. “My beautiful girl. All mine.”

You pant, your hips bucking into his face.

His free hand grips your hip to keep you from writhing away as he works you up as fast as he can. He slides another finger into your cunt, chuckling at the way you shake. “Can’t help myself, baby. So pretty, so sweet. I could do this forever if you’d let me.”

You reach down and run your fingers through his hair. “Cl-close, Stevie!” Your whole body feels hot, legs shaking every single time he sucks on your clit.

“I know, I know,” he coos, replacing his tongue with his thumb. “But you need permission.” You whine loudly in response, trying to press your clit into his thumb even harder. He moves his thumb in small, tight circles against you. “I wanna hear you ask for it, baby. Ask me like a good girl.”

His fingers move in and out of you, curling with each movement to draw out more whines and whimpers. “You want that, baby?” You nod desperately in response, your back arching slightly. His voice sounds like his mind was being reduced to nothing but you, only you. “Then beg for it. Ask nicely. Beg.”

The words tumble out of your mouth. “Please! Please Stevie! Please let me cum, I’ve been a good girl!” You sound so desperate and Steve laps it up.

Steve lets out a groan as his breath catches in his throat, his body pressing into the bed at your words. He lets out a low laugh. “So pretty…good girl.” He shifts your hips slightly, angling you towards the camera. His fingers speed up once more inside of you. “That’s it baby, cum for me. You’ve been so good, it’s okay. Cum for me. Let the camera see you cum…”

You cum hard, your hips lifting off of the bed. Your moans fill the air alongside the clicks and the whirring of the camera. He works you through it, his fingers and thumb drawing out every possible second of your high as you squirm. He groans as he sees a stream of wetness dribble out of you, forming a puddle under your thighs. He takes one last swipe with his tongue, sucking at your sensitive nerves one last time before lifting himself up to look at you. You already look wrecked, just how Steve likes you. “You okay, baby?”

After a few seconds you nod, your head feeling floaty.

He chuckles as he watches the rise and fall of your chest slow down. He gives a final kiss to your clit before crawling up to you, leaning down to kiss you. “God, you’re amazing.” As soon as his lips touch yours, you taste yourself on his tongue, and he chuckles as you recoil slightly. “Come here.” Steve pulls you close to his chest, his kisses becoming less frenzied and more soft and sweet.

After a few seconds he pulls away, looking back at the camera. “Do you wanna keep going?” You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. Steve grins, pushing you onto your back once again. “Good. You’re such a good girl, all nice and ready for my cock.”

You let out another moan as he pulls his underwear down, making sure to look right into the lens as your home video continues.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

i hope you all enjoyed! :> requests are open!

[oceantornadoo]

the realistic aftermath of ghost catching the handy in the back alley with best friend!johnny…a few weeks later

“ugh johnny, get off.” you tried pushing against him but he was deadweight, 200+ pounds of muscle at the mercy of many, many alcoholic drinks. “fhehnihernr.” you rolled your eyes. “i don’t know what you’re saying.” instead of answering, he wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you into him by your stomach. “miss? did you need some help? or another drink?” you laid your hand on top of johnny’s and he growled in approval. “two waters, please.” the bartender nodded and turned around to grab the cups. “wanna be closer t’ ye, leannen.” you chuckled in spite of yourself. “can’t get much closer than you are now.” to save him from responding, the bartender placed down your waters and you took them, nodding your thanks. “drink up, come on.” you pushed the water cup toward him, ignoring his messy mohawk and gleaming blue eyes. how even shitfaced, your best friend was too handsome and flirtatious for his own good. “let’s go back to gaz.”

johnny slid into the booth first, wrapping an arm around gaz’s shoulder. “gazzy!” you snorted, attempting to slide in after johnny. he halted your plans by dragging you into his lap, losing no strength even with his lack of sobriety. instead of protesting, you laid back on johnny’s chest, mouthing “sorry”to gaz. gaz shook his head, opting to answer with a sip of his beer. “you’re lucky cap isn’t here.” johnny had finished the water cup, slamming it down on the table. you leaned forward, ignoring his growl at the movement, and placed the second cup in his waiting hands. he chugged it, muscled throat pumping at the exertion. you overted your eyes, wisely placing your gaze on the football game on the tv. “why’s that?” thankfully, johnny sounded more sober now, the slurring at a minimum. “‘cause you two are disgusting.” you shot him an affronted look. “i’m not doing anything!” gaz pushed at your shoulder, causing you to tilt, until johnny righted you in his lap, grip growing tighter. “soap’s annoyin’ but he knows how to take a woman’s no for an answer. you jus’ never tell him no.” hmph. he did have you there. instead of forcing you to answer, johnny rested his chin your shoulder, drawing the blame back on him. “think yer jealous ‘cause i hav’ a new favorite sergeant. she’s a wee more bonnie than you, gazzy.” he placed down the second water cup, sounding s bit more sober now. “well ‘ve got 100 quid on you tossers so don’t fuck it up.” instead of letting you answer, johnny pushed you off his lap and out of the booth, murmuring something about going to the dance floor.

and now you were here, arms wrapped around johnny as you danced way too slowly to the 80s rock crooning out of the pub speakers. the tension was calmer now, the drinks in your system finally hitting, putting you at an equal level with johnny’s slowly sobering brain. he rocks you gently, strong arms keeping you steady as your fingers skim his triceps, defined even under his shirt. his fingers splay against your waist, brushing the top of your ass as you sway off beat. gaz’s words swam through your mind, coupled with the looks ghost had been giving you since he caught you two in the alley. he hadn’t told anyone, hence the bet gaz mentioned, but youve felt the silent questions coming off of him every time you entered the room. johnny feels you tense in his arms, too intuned with all your movements. “ask me, lass.” you swallowed at the low gravel of his voice, accent deeper in your ear. “are- are we doing something wrong? i dunno, johnny, it was all fine before anyone said anything and now-“ he stops you with a pinch to your hip. “‘s a pile of shite, bon. unless,” he pulls back slightly, grasping your chin to force you to meet his eyes. “tell me to stop.” you shake your head immediately, noting the smile on his face. “don’t stop. i like being close to you, anyway i can. even with the blurry lines.” he tucks you back against his chest, grip finally relaxing. “no lines, jus’ us.”

[applepieshy]

I had an idea to redesign vox because I didn't love that a character obsessed with modernization would wear a top hat and bowtie. then after a brief stint into madness where I read my partner's historic costuming textbook I drew.... all this.

(side note: the idea of vox being a trans man who transitioned AFTER death was super compelling and absolutely inspired by @prince-liest so while this is not direct fanart of their series I wanted to give a shoutout anyway!!!)

okay some TRULY unhinged rambling about historic costume below the cut YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

1950s: for this design I very much did not want to go to the typical a-line housewife look, because I feel that is unfitting for vox's character. instead I went for a more business look, but there is still a level of femininity that he would have been expected to perform. i wanted to express his discomfort with that through the pose and expression, though at the time he wouldn't necessarily have a framework for why he hated it

1960s: this one was very fun. i loved the idea of vox beginning to eschew some of the expected feminine presentation, and he no longer wears makeup, jewelry, or hose (though its hard to tell in black & white); however, he's kind of at war with himself in this time period. he's obsessed with seeming perfect and having a respectable image, so he would not go in for the counter-culture movements that were so big in the 60s. he's still kind of riding those coattails though, pushing those boundaries while still not acknowledging his queerness.

1970s: to me, it was very important that the gender hit as he entered the world in color. in my mind the gender euphoria is physically manifested in a wizard of oz situation - he can become who he always has been. anyway, gender aside, I think it was very important to me personally that he wore an ascot. it was for my mental health.

1980s: I wanted the 1980s to be the period where he began to gain some power and notoriety because of the de-regulation of television during this period to allow more ads, mirroring real-world history. I think if the 70s were when vox gained some real confidence, the 80s are when he got an Ego (tm). "business casual" also began to become more acceptable in this time period, and the t-shirt/suit jacket combo was very important for me to include, as to me it epitomizes the commercialism and machismo of the 80s.

1990s: this was actually the decade I was the most nervous to design, and yet I think it turned out the best? the 90s are known for grunge, which I think is NOT vox's style at all. I decided instead to lean hard into the yuppie look, which I know is more associated with the 80s but was definitely still a thing in the 90s. I also allowed a little hip-hop influence in the form of a gold chain from val, which is not something I think vox would ever pick on his own.

2000s: if the 90s were the decade I was worried about and turned out great, the 2000s are the decade I thought I had down SO GOOD and then totally floundered in execution. I still love the bubble-mac inspired head, and I tried to make his clothes as "round" as possible. I also like that this is the time where his saturation got cranked. however, I don't know if I'm in love with the vest and super bright sneakers, because again, looking back on it, he kind of looks like he works at a movie theater or best buy or some shit lol,,,

2010s: I think it's telling that this is by far the closest to his canon design (2014 tumblr lookin ass). I really wanted to pull from that hipster tech bro era, but unfortunately that aesthetic has a veneration for "retro" which again, is not fitting for vox. I still think he would wear the bowtie during this time because, well... he sure does in the show!

2020s: this was fun because I had an excuse to pull from haute couture design rather than street fashion because of the introduction of velvette into his life. I truly do not think velvette would let vox and val walk around in the outfits that they do because it would be an actual embarrassment LMAO. for this, I wanted his decorative "robes" to be evocative of the time he depicted himself as a priest AND of a cape/robe of an emperor. he does think of himself as that bitch, after all.

[lemoncrushh]

Her Album

Summary: Harry has finished recording his album, and he wants her to hear it.

Warnings: Angst, lots of feelings

Word Count: 2.9k+

A/N: A short one-shot written in 2019 in first person from Harry's POV. While this is not necessarily a reader fic, the woman's name is never mentioned. This was written before Fine Line was out, so it's pretty wild to think about it now.

The album was done. I’d made a visit to the studio to hear the final mix and then had lunch with Jeffrey and Glenne. As I drove home, I listened to the songs again in the car, deciding not to stop at my house when I got there, but instead to keep going so I could give one last listen straight through.

I’m not sure how I ended up on her street. It used to be automatic, like taking my shoes off before my trousers, or putting the cap back on the toothpaste. I’d driven down her block so many times before, I probably knew it better than my own neighbourhood.

I sat in the car for a long time, staring up at her window. I wasn’t even sure if she was home. I couldn’t tell if a light was on, but it was the middle of the day and that window was her bedroom, so she could’ve been anywhere else inside. I let the album loop around to the first track again, the opening chords hitting me in the chest just like the first time I’d heard them.

I wanted her to hear them too. I wanted her to listen to the melodies and have them bring back the memories that had inspired me to write them. I wanted her to listen to my lyrics and know they were all about her, even the ones that weren’t as obvious. Songs about love and loss. Songs about sex and lust and forbidden fruit. Songs that sounded like they were about something completely different, hidden behind loose meanings and innuendos.

But they were all about her.

I scrolled through my phone and opened the contacts to her name. We hadn’t spoken in weeks, maybe even months. I’d lost count. Being in the studio had helped to heal my broken heart, and my pride, but it certainly hadn’t erased her memory. She was with me every single day, every moment that I worked on a song.

I almost tapped on her name, my thumb grazing over it. But I stopped myself, turning off my phone, and then my engine. Climbing out of the car, I walked around it to the pavement in front of her building, once again looking up at her window. For a second I considered being like John Cusack in Say Anything, holding up an 80s boom box and serenading her with my music so she’d notice. But I reckoned that was borderline stalking, not to mention disturbing the neighbours, so I made my way to the stairs and climbed them to the second floor.

I stopped in front of her door, staring at it for a good two to three minutes before I even lifted my hand. I took several breaths, wondering if I was making a mistake. She probably didn’t wanna see me, let alone talk to me. She didn’t give a shit about my album. She had moved on.

But I was there. I felt like something had brought me there for a reason, and that reason was to play her my music. Let her know exactly how I felt about her - how she drove me crazy and how she’d hurt me and how I’d hurt her. How in love with her I’d been. How I still…

Finally, I knocked, a little too softly at first, but I didn’t want to startle her. At least that’s what I told myself. When no one responded, however, I knocked again, much louder and with determination.

“Jesus, I’m coming!” I heard her yell from inside. “Hold your-”

She stood before me with a half-eaten apple in her hand, her mouth open and her eyes wide. She wore a t-shirt and shorts, her hair pulled back in a loose bun and no makeup. She looked beautiful.

“Hey,” I said, my voice not quite cooperating so I sounded like a frog.

“Harry.” She said my name in almost a question, though she knew it was me. She just wondered why it was me.

When she didn’t say anything else, I shifted my eyes up and down the hall and shrugged.

“Can I come in?”

I admit, I expected her to nod and step back to let me inside her apartment. But when she shook her head, my face fell.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she remarked.

“Um...why not?”

“Because…” she began, her tone hard as steel, “I just got over you.”

“Over me?” I gulped.

“Yeah. It’s taken me a while, but I finally am,” she explained, placing the apple on the table by the door. Then wiping her hands on her shorts, she leaned against the door frame. “You haven’t shown your face here in nearly three months. I can’t just let you waltz on in here and undo everything.”

“‘m not…” I stumbled, “‘m not undoing anything.”

“Then why are you here?”

Her gorgeous but stern eyes glared at me, piercing through my heart. I looked down at my feet, thinking I’d made a mistake by coming. She didn’t want any more to do with me. I’d waited too long and missed the window. Maybe there hadn’t even been one.

Lifting my head, I looked at her beautiful face again. It was then that I recognized the shirt she was wearing - my old AC/DC t-shirt.

“Looks like you’re not completely over me,” I pointed. I dunno why I said it. It was petty and juvenile.

“What?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

She looked down at the emblem on her chest, seemingly just realizing what she had on. With a sigh, she dropped her arms.

“I just like it,” she said, her head held high. “And you basically gave it to me anyway.”

“No, I didn’t.” Shut up, H, you’re making it worse, I thought to myself.

“Well, you left it here. And I ended up sleeping in it. And you never came back, so…” She crossed her arms again in defense.

She was right. The last time I’d been in her apartment, we’d had a massive fight, and I’d told her it was over and stormed out. She’d tried calling and texting me for a couple days, but I’d ignored her, stubborn with pride. When I’d finally agreed to talk to her again, I was only being a right twat, unable to see or accept her side. So, we only ended up fighting again until she said she needed some space.

“I was giving you your space,” I muttered, knowing damn well I sounded like a wanker.

“For six weeks?” she snorted and shook her head. “You have some nerve, Harry.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“What was that?” she stepped closer to me, her brows furrowed. “Did you really just say you’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Sorry for what? For breaking my heart? For being a dickhead? For not calling or texting or even saying one word to me for freaking ever? For telling me it was over in the first place? Or for showing up here now when I’m finally over you?”

I blinked. “All of it,” I admitted.

Her lips twitched, and for a second I thought she was going to smile.

“Fuck you, Harry!” she exclaimed.

Stepping back, she grabbed the door, ready to slam it. But I brought my hand up and stopped it.

“I want you to listen to it,” I said, remembering why I’d come.

“Why should I listen to you?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Not to me. To the album. It’s finished, and I want you to hear it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t be serious. You came here so I’d listen to your new music? You really are a douchebag.”

“No, you don’t understand, I-“

“You’re right, I don’t,” she interrupted. “But seems to me you had weeks to explain yourself, Harry. I’m done crying over you.”

She was about to shut the door again when I called out, “I’ve been crying over you, too!”

She stood still, her hand on the door that was opened only a crack. Leaning her forehead against it, I could tell she was holding back tears. I didn’t want her to cry now, at least not over this.

“Liar,” she croaked.

“It’s not a lie, ba-” I almost called her baby, but I knew she wouldn’t like that. Not yet. “Please. Let me in. You don’t even have to talk. Just listen to the album.”

I stood silent for a moment, watching her eyelashes flutter against her pink cheeks. Finally, she let out a sigh and stepped back, opening the door to allow me to step inside.

“Thanks,” I muttered low as she closed the door behind me.

She didn’t reply. In fact, she didn’t even look at me as she grabbed her half eaten apple and went into the kitchen. I stood in the middle of the living room, waiting for her return.

“Okay,” she gestured toward me as she plopped onto the couch. “Go ahead.”

Spotting her laptop on the coffee table, I pointed. “Do you mind?”

She merely nodded and I sat down next to her and opened it. Then sliding my hand into my pocket, I pulled out the USB drive and plugged it in, bringing up the files I’d saved in the studio. With a click of the mouse, the first track began to play, those familiar chords ringing once again. I sat back and watched her, waiting for some kind of reaction on her face.

But none came.

Not when the first track ended, nor when the second song started, the first lyric blatantly about her. I started to get restless, rubbing my palms on my knees and bouncing my leg. I ran my fingers through my hair, a habit she used to tell me was endearing, only now she didn’t give any indication that she even noticed.

Finally, during the third song, I saw her make the slightest move, leaning against the arm of the sofa and resting her head in her hand. We made eye contact for a second before she quickly looked away, her eyes hazy. I wondered what she was thinking. I wanted so badly to ask, to pry it out of her, but I’d promised she needn’t talk.

We were halfway through the album when I caught more movement out of the corner of my eye. I’d been sat with my head down, unable to look at her during track seven, the most intimate and personal song I’d written. My gaze lifted to her, and I noticed her shoulders were shaking. Her head was still in her hand, her cheeks now wet with tears.

I wanted to reach out, to hold her in my arms. God, I wanted that so bad. But I let her be. I knew she needed to cry without me giving false promises that everything was okay. None of this was okay.

I’d cried when I’d written that song. I’d broken down in the recording booth when I’d sung the chorus for the first time. I only just realized as I watched her body shake with sobs that I’d been an idiot for not telling her how I’d felt. But maybe...just maybe she could finally hear me through my songs.

By the time that track ended, I was in tears too. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, sniffling as I tried to compose myself. I sat back on the couch again, my head leant back. I shut my eyes and listened to the next song, one a little more uptempo. I tapped my fingertips on the cushion at my sides, humming softly. This song was about happy memories, when we’d laid on the beach or beside my pool last summer. When we’d been so in love and hadn’t a care in the world. Before all the fighting and jealousy and…

I almost didn’t feel it at first, her hand brushing mine. It was such a light touch, I thought perhaps I was imagining it, lost in the song. But my eyelids fluttered open when I felt it again. I stared at my right hand on the cushion, her slim fingers over mine. She used to like to do that, when we’d be sat together watching a movie, or lying in bed reading. She’d trace my hand and knuckles with her fingertips, her delicate hand dancing over mine before I’d smile and thread our fingers together. It was an unspoken gesture of affection we’d had. I missed it.

God, I missed her.

I raised my head to look at her. I half expected her to be looking at me too, but she was focused on our hands. Her expression wasn’t one I’d hoped either. She looked sad, her cheeks still tear-stained. I wanted to kiss them, make it all better.

I opened my mouth to say her name, but nothing came out. I cleared my throat and she looked at me. I turned my hand over then like I used to, wanting to thread our fingers together. But she pulled away, her jaw set.

“Why’d you do that?” I asked, my voice a deep rasp.

They were the first words either of us had spoken since the music started, and I instantly regretted it, knowing I’d meant to stay silent until the end. We were on track nine now, a couple more songs to go. I still wanted her to hear all of it. I wanted her to know I still felt the same, even though I wasn’t completely over the anger, over the heartbreak. But I’d spilled my guts out in my songs. I was shit at communication, I knew that. I hoped that she could understand it all in my music.

“I...I don’t know,” she whispered.

She crossed her legs then, sat in the corner of the couch. She reached behind her head and pulled at her bun, letting her hair fall freely down her shoulders. She seemed comfortable, at least less resistant than she had when I’d knocked on her door. I could tell she wanted to talk, but she kept her mouth shut because I’d told her she could. I also felt like she was really listening though. And that was really all I wanted.

“That was a really good song,” she surprised me after track ten. But she didn’t say anything more.

Clearing my throat again, I sucked in my lips when the final song started. If track seven had been the most personal, this was the companion to it. This was me giving my heart, me asking forgiveness and giving it back. This was me wanting another chance to prove how I felt about her. I’d known as I was writing and recording it that the possibility of that happening was slim to none. But I had to take a chance. I was tired of keeping it bottled up, being a stubborn prat because I’d wanted my way and had to be right. I was all kinds of wrong. I knew I wasn’t fully to blame for our break-up, but I was taking responsibility and owning up to my part in it. I hoped she could hear that in my voice.

By the time the song was over, my head was in my hands. I perched on the edge of the sofa shaking. I’d already listened to it a handful of times in the studio and in my car, but it hadn’t had the effect it had now, sat in her living room with her beside me. I was sobbing like a baby.

“Harry…” I heard her whisper.

When I lifted my head this time, she was right beside me, her face so close it startled me. Her hands were in her lap, and she wrung them like she was either nervous or was trying to keep herself from touching me.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried. “For everything.”

“I know,” she nodded. “I heard.”

“Will you forgive me?” I asked, turning to face her. I wanted to lift my hand to touch her face but thought better of it. Instead, I hesitantly reached for her hand. I was pleasantly surprised when she let me take it.

“Only if you forgive me, too,” she said.

I let out a deep breath and leant forward. I wanted to kiss her but wasn’t sure if she was ready yet. Lifting my hand this time, I grazed her cheek and wiped a tear away with my thumb.

“I still love you,” I admitted. “I never stopped. I’m just so sorry I waited this long.”

She bit her perfect bottom lip, her big eyes blinking fast.

“I thought I was over you,” she said. “I thought you were over me.”

“Guess we were both wrong.”

She leant into me then, and I took it as my cue. I took her into my arms and kissed her, like I’d wanted to kiss her for months. She felt so good against me, and I quickly found myself shedding more tears.

“We still have a lot to talk about,” she whispered when I released her lips.

“I know,” I agreed. “I promise I’m not walking out this time.”

“Good,” she nodded before kissing me again.

We ended up listening to the album again together while we prepared and ate dinner. There were more tears, but also lots of conversation. We had a long way to go, but I was hopeful.

Something had made me drive down her street. I guess it was me.

If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[lover-of-mine]

it’s so interesting that with previous love interests, it was normal and fine to not ship them and to still want buddie in the future, but now, we have to sit down and shut up and accept that it’s never happening and B/T are forever

oh no wait, it’s not interesting, it’s annoying and confusing and frankly just weird. misogynistic and borderline fetishistic

shipping non-canon couples, especially ones with 6 years of history and love and shared experiences, is the norm in literally every fandom, but now suddenly it’s wrong and how dare we

a fair few of the people saying this are also, conveniently, the ones implying that B’s bisexuality is tied to T and T alone and if we don’t ship them, we don’t support bi!B

how. very. interesting! /annoying/confusing/weird

So interesting. Dude, I got called homophobic because I didn't immediately look at them in 703 and decided they were true love. In 703. Because I didn't look at the shoulder touch and immediately started shipping them. Homophobic with all the letters. I got yelled at. After 703. Legit almost deleted this whole blog over some of the things that got sent. I was legitimately crying with friends who are not in the fandom if I was being unreasonable or insane or whatever else I got called for not jumping in instantly and to ask if I was actually doing something wrong. People were saying we were being weird about queer storylines. That we needed to shut the fuck up and enjoy the way Oliver Stark was gonna make out with a hot guy. That not being on board the ship meant that we had an unreasonable and ridiculous necessity of making sure Eddie was the only guy for Buck. Literally every single person in this fandom hc Buck 1.0 also hooked up with guys. Most people never acted as if Buck needs to be guided through his queerness by this hot older guy. Oh, wait, no, they did. With T. People automatically decided that Buck needed a queer Yoda. That he needed someone to hold his hand and be a guide. They added a fucked up power dynamic from the get go. With no information, Buck was already a baby that needed his hand held through his own sexuality. And let me tell you one thing, I know for a FACT that if it was Eddie, the automatic reaction wouldn't be putting T in this idealized experienced gay guide position when that would've made more sense (not that I think any of them needs a guide) because Eddie is the one with the body count you can count with one hand and a weird relationship with sex. But somehow I'm the one who's weird about Buck's sexuality. I don't want Buck to explore. I need Buck to only have loved Eddie. Sure. Look, I don't wanna multiship. The same way everyone is allowed to ship whatever the fuck they want, I'm allowed to not ship whatever the fuck I want. If it was a woman no one would've been in my inbox basically demanding I make the same level of analysis I make for buddie for them (let me tell you one thing too, if I made the level of analysis I do with buddie with bt, no one would like what I have to say ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯) but I'm still getting asked for it for some reason when I never indicated I ship the two.

But I'm not allowed to have any critical thoughts about anything involving bt or else I'm being weird and that's the mild term that's being used. I can't point out the fact that T left Buck in a curb and failed to communicate shit properly even though it happened in canon. I can't say that I think it felt kinda callous for him to say "they had henleys in the 80s" to Buck being upset T didn't dress on theme (also, the job requires them to change into a uniform by nature, he could've put a colorful shirt and indulged Buck a little bit there without it interfering with the way he was on standby but I can't say that or else I'm a hater). There is no criticism allowed in the ship but somehow I'm the one being weird. I don't think Buck should be in a relationship. I think Buck is still exhibiting the same patterns when it comes to love interests. And yes, I would feel the same way if it was Eddie. Buck doesn't know how to be happy alone and he will never be happy in a relationship until he learns that. I was saying that when it was Natalia and getting praised for my understanding of Buck's character. Now I'm locking Buck onto Eddie. Buck's bisexuality is only valid if he's actively kissing a guy for some people but I'm the one being weird. BT have so many visual parallels to bucktaylor, but if I say that's a bad sign I'm being a hater. I need to sit my ass down, ignore six seasons of buildup, accept that it's over, and that now making Eddie queer and getting buddie together would suck because it would destroy the friendship they built so bt are endgame and gonna get married and somehow I'm the one who's being weird about queer relationships and attaching Buck bisexuality to a person. The fandom lost its fucking mind when they saw Oliver kiss a guy and, yeah, it does feel misogynistic and borderline fetishizing. But somehow I'm the one getting blocked by half the fandom when I'm not even pointing everything I want out. I lose at least one mutual every time I even suggest maybe we should look at things a bit more critically. I have to sit here and justify things to an insane degree while people's reaction to any of the criticism is "uH BuT T Is hOt aNd hE Is a gUy sO It iS DiFfErEnT oKaY?" Critical thinking skills went out the window because now there's a guy involved and that's fucking weird. People are straight up erasing Eddie, the actual main character of the show, Buck's established partner of years, Buck's best friend, the only person in canon who never left Buck in any capacity, because some guy kissed Buck and, he, uh *check notes* treats Buck as an actual human being? so that means he's perfect. It's nuts. The bar is hell.

Yes, I know this is not everyone in the fandom and I know this is not everyone who ships them but if what I'm saying feels like a personal attack to you maybe you should do some thinking. Anyone can ship anything, you want to ship them go off, power to you, the weird part here is the way some people are demanding other people ship it too. We could all be coexisting if people didn't get weirdly comfortable demanding shit from other people in the fandom and deciding their opinion is the only one that matters so they need to call out anyone who thinks differently, but alas, that's too much to ask.

[rorschachisgay]

i wish there was some nuance between "everyone has to love the word queer" and "if you don't like it you are a terf automatically". because the reality is i don't identify with the word queer and i never have. as a kid i was aware of it as a slur and as a teenager i started to understand it in an academic concept first (as in Queer Theory) but i didn't identify with it because in my mind it was like, a clinical, academic word. and then later as i got older it became an increasingly prevalent point of conflict around me.

im not arguing that terfs dont dislike queer as a group term, though speaking from a british perspective the majority of them here are very focused on removing the T from LGBT over arguing about queer as a term at all, so it doesnt really feel like a particularly important form of conflict over what is a very targeted erasure of trans identity Specifically.

and thats kind of partially why i struggle to identify with the term Queer. it is not specific. it does not describe or capture my identity. lately i have found much more identity in words like fag, faggot, transexual, which do relate directly to my specific identities and have a very long history in the community. and additionally, won't get fuckin sold back to me by coke.

like that's really all Queer feels like to me now, something that has now been packaged up as an easily marketable buzzword to be printed on t-shirts at Primark or used meaninglessly by Disney to pretend they care. it does not refer to the aspects of my identity that matter to me, it's not something that i ever claimed for myself, and now i am continually getting told that if i don't identify with it im bigoted against myself and my siblings.

"queer was reclaimed by everyone, it was reclaimed in the 80s". i actually don't feel like someone else gets to decide this for me? im not going to lie and pretend it was never used as part of the campaign for equality for decades and decades, it obviously has a crucial place in history, but now in popular culture it has become like. ubiquitous.

like ive said before i think words like fag and dyke can be used in a way that reflects our communal family and is a sign of camaraderie and that's also true of queer, but with those words it's extremely understandable when someone isn't comfortable with them and when someone doesn't want to identify with queer it's treated as a sign they're in the wrong.

idk this is so far from being a crucial issue it's barely worth talking about but i just really struggle with being told that i am in the wrong because i have my own complicated feelings about a word with a complicated history. in the grand scheme of things it's NOT that important but it does grate on my nerves to be told that theres zero room for any kind of debate or alternate opinion in this. like i just wish we didn't have to be so black and white as if the issue has no grey area or room for personal expression at all.

[nctsworld]

at your earliest convenience

✩‌ haechan x reader | fluff | 1.3k

SUMMARY | in which haechan is always your one (and annoying) late-night customer at the 24/7 convenience store you work at and one evening, he forgets his wallet. in lieu of payment, he asks if he can take you out on a date instead. // part of the connection series

WARNINGS | slightly insecure reader, none really!

RATING | teen+

AUTHOR'S NOTE | please check out (and maybe send in some prompt requests) @nctpromptmeme!

You ring him up, like clockwork. 

The scanner picks up a bag of the Korean brand onion rings, two Red Bulls, and an instant noodle cup.  

He’s the only consistent man in your life, ignoring the fact that the sole reason why he’s in your life is because he always comes into the 24/7 convenience store you work at during late, sometimes ungodly, hours. Tonight, it’s not that bad: 1:53am. 

Rarely, no one else strolls in during your shift (and you’re grateful it’s a safe neighbourhood). 

However, this young man lives to make your shift a painful one. 

Usually with ruffled hair, transparent-framed glasses, and a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, he saunters in as if he owns the store, often swinging his keys or obnoxiously whistling along to the song playing in the background. From the moment he steps into the store, his existence alone irks you. 

Unsurprisingly, he then takes a solid ten minutes on average (yes, you’ve timed it) to buy his items. Whistling evolves into screeches or emphatic oohs and aahs. Sometimes, he even narrates the entire process, as if he's the main character in a show. And yet, despite it all, he ends up buying the same rotation of his favourite items. 

If not the onion rings, the shrimp crackers. If not the Red Bulls, the bottles of Monster instead. He may be grabbing one cup of noodles tonight, but other times it’s three. Potentially even a completely different brand, if he’s feeling adventurous.   

On that note, predictability is in his nature. You plead internally for him to live a little, to maybe even spice up his night with a little change, for crying out loud. Heck, maybe even change the grey or black t-shirt he always wears to a shade that’s not a neutral tone or to put on a jacket for once. 

And the cherry on top is the constant annoying smirk he flashes when you tell him his total. 

You want to punch it off his face, smear it across the shiny floors with the dirty mop water you use at the beginning and end of shift.  

“How are you doing tonight, gorgeous?” he asks. Sometimes gorgeous is replaced with beautiful or cutie. It only adds to his annoyance of regularity and you have an itch he does this all the time with others, making you not take his typical endearing terms seriously.  

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m not gorgeous, but, as always, thank you for the compliment.” 

His smirk melts, and you catch yourself feeling a tinge of something as his features soften. 

“You are, though,” your regular says. You quickly glance up, wondering if that pout and look in his eyes are genuine. “You know that I call you gorgeous because I mean it, right?” 

You’re unsure how to react, so you give a small nod and repeat the total, softly this time.

There’s a beat when the man gets lost in thought, but the moment quickly fades. He reaches into his sweatpants. However, he stops abruptly, before he reaches in again and pats the outside of his other pockets. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. You realize two things: one, you’ve never heard him curse; and two, he doesn’t have his wallet.

Well, that surely is different than usual.

Instinctively, you pull the snacks toward you. 

“Don’t you dare think I’m letting you walk away with everything for free,” you say, half-jokingly. Even though you’re 80% certain you can trust him, you still don’t know what he’s like.  

He smiles sweetly, quite differently than his smirks, forcing you to admit he’s handsome (just a little). “How could you expect me to stoop that low?” he whine-asks, clutching his chest in pain. 

After a moment of staring up at the ceiling in thought with his tongue running against his lower teeth, a Cheshire grin spreads over his face and he raises an eyebrow.

You don’t like it one bit and regret the moment earlier, mentally punching yourself for finding him a tiny bit attractive. 

“How about…”—he pauses as he rhythmically taps his fingers onto the counter—“...you let me take you out on a date in exchange for these items?” 

A scoff releases into the air. “Are you really telling me I’m only worth $11.87?” 

“What—no! Of course not,” he flicks a wrist upward in annoyance, then gestures to himself. “A date with me is worth way more in value, so you’ll be getting a better bargain.” 

You could not believe this guy. “Is a date with you really going to be worth it?” 

“Look,” he leans in over the counter and you catch a whiff of a light, woody scent. You fight off the desire to deeply inhale it. “No matter where we go or what happens, I’ll make sure you’ll be happy by the end of it. Isn’t that worth taking the risk of losing $11.87?” 

Squinting your eyes at him, while still clutching the goods he wants, you start to warm-up to the idea since you don’t have anything to lose (but maybe that’s due to the influence of his slightly intoxicating aura). 

“Will you choose the date location?” you ask, guarded.

He shakes his head. “Everything will be up to you and I’ll try to accommodate my schedule as best as I can.” 

You raise an eyebrow, challenging him. “And what if I want to go to the most expensive restaurant in town?”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Then we’ll go to the most expensive restaurant in town.” 

“If I wanted to order the $130 steak?” 

“$130 steak it is.” 

“If I—” 

The cute (you can’t deny it at this point) stranger cuts you off with a raise of his hand. God, you hate how cocky he is. 

Suddenly, he holds out a hand, sticking his pinky finger up. He waggles it, and you realize he’s waiting for you to do the same. You curl a pinky around his.

“There. I promise you—cross my heart and swear on my mother’s life—that I’ll uphold and adhere to whatever date conditions you ask of me.” He straightens, stepping away from the counter. “Now, can I please have my snacks and drinks?” 

The events of tonight took quite a turn. Never in a million years would you think Mr. Predictability would ask you out on a date, let alone be pretty sweet about it.  

Perhaps there’s more to him than you thought. 

You hand him your phone, and he does the same. 

When he gives it back, you shake your head at the text he sent and the name he gave himself.

“Hyuck?” you ask, unfamiliar with the name.  

“Short for Donghyuck, but yes, beautiful?”

You turn your phone towards him in disbelief. “What’s with the heart next to your name?” 

He shrugs, flashing you another smug smile. “What about it?”  

Glancing down at his phone, he beams. You wonder if it’s because you wrote the following in brackets after your name: You Owe Me a Date Worth More than $11.87. 

“And your name is just as beautiful as you are.” 

Again, another eye roll. You wonder if the date will be filled with more of it. You shove the stuff towards him. 

“I have to know: do those lines really work?”

“Well, I have a date lined up with you, so you tell me.” 

Before you have a chance to retort, he grabs something out from his pocket.

A wallet.

His motherfucking wallet, and he has the audacity to toss a $20 bill onto the counter with the same grin that you still want to wipe the floor with. Your jaw hangs. 

“Keep the change,” he says, along with your name and grants you a wink as he grabs his items. 

“I’ll be seeing you on our date soon, gorgeous.” 

AUTHOR'S ENDING NOTE

thank you for reading! i've been getting so much love for this - y'all are amazing. if you would like to read an informal continuation, see here!

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Neon Moon - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: You're drowning your sorrows after calling off your engagement on Valentine's Day in a Mexican restaurant in San Diego. Alongside you, Bradley Bradshaw sits at the bar, going through a similar situation.

A/N: my first attempt at writing something a little angsty, I’m not overly confident in it but I was drunk on strawberry margaritas in San Diego last night after spending the day in Coronado so here we are. Also definitely inspired by my own past relationship 🌚 And inspired by Neon Moon by Brooks and Dunn. Also sorry for the whacky spacing because I’m posting from my phone! - not beta read or proofread bc I live life in the danger zone.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x f!reader

warnings/content: cheating (not Bradley or reader), failed engagements/breakups, mentions of divorce, drinking, angsty-ish with a happier ending.

word count: 3.5K

read the rest of my What’s Your Country Song mixtape series! 🩷

if you lose your one and only, there’s always room here for the lonely, so watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

You sat at the bar, sighing heavily as you snacked on the free, fresh tortilla chips and salsa, nursing your pink margarita, the notes of strawberry and tequila doing everything in its power to alleviate the pain of your latest breakup. You know alcohol isn’t a miracle worker, but by God, at this point you’re beginning to wonder. Your ex-fiancé just called off your wedding, and left you wondering why on earth you ever agreed to move thousands of miles from home to San Diego for a man who barely had his shit together.

You fiddled with the straw in your glass, sipping the strawberry-laden drink back, the tequila burning your throat slightly as it went down. It was getting late in the evening, but you were willing to stay here a couple more hours until closing just to get the most amount of time away from your apartment as you could. You knew you’d have to face the inevitable, but you dreaded it. How could you not? How could anyone in their right mind choose to haul their ass back to the apartment their ex just called off their wedding ceremony in, where the person they’d loved just confessed they didn’t share that feeling that was supposedly mutual, that they’d grown weary of the marriage ideal that they’d proposed to you.

Your bartender shot you a sympathetic look when you walked in that night, sensing that you weren’t here celebrating Valentine’s Day like most of the patrons around you. He slid you a basket of fresh, warm, homemade tortilla chips and a cup of the restaurant’s in-house salsa, alongside a drink menu with an encouraging nod. You appreciated the kindness towards you, even if it was just out of pity. As the bar side became less busy as the night went on, he asked how you were doing, if you needed anything else, if you wanted to order a meal. You hemmed and hawed over whether or not authentic Mexicali food was the solution to all of your problems when the seat to your right suddenly gained a patron - a single patron who looked just as downtrodden, if not more so, than you.

“Bradley!” The bartender said cheerfully, a hearty smile on the man’s face as he grabbed a pint glass, “Your usual, my friend?”

“Please, and just keep ‘em comin’, man,” said the voice beside you.

Bradley was a tall man, with a neatly trimmed mass of warm, golden-brown waves on top of his head, sun kissed skin and a pair of aviator sunglasses resting on the collar of his white t-shirt. Over the white undershirt, sat the loudest printed Hawaiian shirt you’d ever laid your eyes on - a bubblegum pink coloured background with an assortment of bright white, black and deep orangey-red palm leaves adorning it. A few faded scars scattered the side of his face, barely noticeable unless he tilted his head just so in the warm yellow-hued lights overhead. His fuller lips were resting in an emotionless line, a trimmed and styled mustache, straight out of an 80’s movie resting over the top of his lip.

As Bradley and the bartender, whose name you’d now forgotten after your second margarita, not that it was ever going to stick in your mind in the first place - you were stressing over how to tell 150 guests that a wedding was no longer taking place simply because the man who asked you had decided he no longer loved you, and despite having felt that way for quite some time, opted to tell you three months before your big day, after a majority of things were paid for, almost all of which non-refundable, meaning you’d be enjoying a wedding cake for 150 people at a venue by yourself, celebrating some other occasion in a couple of months.

You couldn’t help but overhear the bartender give Bradley the same words of encouragement as he’d given you - reminding you both that “que sera sera, whatever will be will be”, a direct quote from an old Doris Day song that you recognized from the times your grandmother made you watch her collection of Alfred Hitchcock VHS tapes, along with all the other classic movies you were subjected to. Bradley offered a weak smile, nodding his head along to the advice.

“I don’t know, man, she definitely isn’t coming back. I don’t think I want her to either. Came home from three months away to get told she was off base and in Coronado for the day, I decided to surprise her and find her having a lunch date with some lower-ranking officer.”

“That’s harsh, brother,” the bartender nods sympathetically before his brown eyes light up, as if Bradley’s cheating significant other has inspired him in some way.

“Actually, my friend, the lovely senorita on your left side has something in common with you,” he explained as he shot you a grin before nodding his head, “My friend Bradley here was married. You both are nursing the same pain tonight. Might not be a bad idea for you two to nurse that pain together, especially since we close in an hour.”

Bradley’s face flushed to a pinkish hue as he shot his friend a glare before turning to you with an apologetic, half-hearted smile.

“No offense, I’m sure you’re great, I just…caught my wife out with another officer over the bridge at Coronado and I really don’t know if drinking with another girl is the right thing to do.”

“Understood, my fiancé just called off our wedding because he decided three months before was a good time to tell me he’d fallen out of love with me nine months ago and no longer wanted to go through with it.”

“Ah, maybe Angel over here is on to something then,” Bradley let out a melancholic chuckle as he took a sip of his beer, the amber coloured liquid sliding past his lips, the froth at the top brushing against the edge of his mustache.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” you nodded, suddenly thankful as you realized if your ex hadn’t broken things off now, you could have easily wound up in the same position as Bradley is now in a few years.

“It’s alright, had a feelin’ she wasn’t really loving the military spouse life as much as she let on, but didn’t think that meant she’d find a different serviceman to try it on with while I was gone and stationed in the middle of the Pacific.”

“Jesus, that’s rough, I’m sorry.”

“Eh, not your fault. I’m Bradley, by the way. Normally I’d do the whole formal military introduction but…just Bradley is fine tonight. I kinda need a break from that for a minute.”

“Understood.”

You nodded again before giving him your name. An awkward silence fell over you both before you looked out towards the patio, the lights along the pier illuminating the San Diego Bay as you looked across to Coronado.

“That’s where I’m stationed,” Bradley nodded his head towards the island across the bay as he took another sip of his beer, “North Island.”

“You’re an aviator?”

“TOPGUN graduated, been flyin’ for just over 20 years now.”

“20 years?”

“Yeah,” Bradley blushed, nodding his head, “I’m 40 in June. I get told I look about 10 years younger than that. A lot. Especially by other guys over there. The one guy in my detachment’s about 5 years younger than me and everyone says he looks closer to my age than I do. Not as a dig to Hangman or nothin’, just as an observation that I kinda look fresh to the Navy, you know?”

“Hangman…?” You raised your eyebrow quizzically at the name he just called his friend, almost concerned about his parents' life choices.

“Real name’s Jake. Everyone calls us using callsigns over there - his is Hangman, but if we wanna piss him off, he’s Bagman. I’m Rooster. One guy’s just Bob, one girl’s Phoenix, another girl’s Halo, then there’s Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, Harvard and Yale, Fritz, my dad’s Navy buddy is Maverick, our Air Boss is Cyclone, it goes on.”

“Why is your callsign Rooster?”

“Eh, my dad’s sign was Goose. They asked me to pick one and I wanted to honor him, but I couldn't use the same one I figured, so I went for the first bird I could think of. They were gonna call me Boomer because I’m loud as fuck half the time, but I guess I have a bit of a reputation for waiting until the moment’s right to take action. One guy said that I sorta sit perched like a rooster waiting for the sun to rise, and it stuck more than Boomer did.”

“Gotcha. Are you from San Diego?”

“Sorta. I was born here, my dad was stationed up at Miramar which is on the other side from Coronado, but then he died when I was two in a training accident, my mom moved me back to where she was from in Virginia, it’s where she met my dad, actually. He was from Virginia but like, closer to the D.C. area, my mom was from Richmond. Then I grew up there, went to UVA, and got stationed at Virginia Beach, went to TOPGUN in Nevada and then got sent back to Virginia, then from there got called to North Island.”

“So you’ve lived in a few states then. I moved out here from New York a couple years ago. My ex is from La Jolla, came to New York for university, met me, got a job in the city, then got an offer to work here, and came back, took me with him.”

“So your family’s all back in New York?”

“Yeah, bit far, like a 6 hour flight home.”

“Jesus, I may not have much for family, but at least I know I’ve got my squad to kinda support me. And I’ve got Maverick, who’s like a second dad to me.”

“I’m still debating what to do - do I stay in San Diego and just make this my home now, or do I go back to Manhattan with my tail between my legs so to speak and move back in with my parents?”

Bradley nodded his head solemnly before letting out a sharp exhale, a smile forming on his face as he looked out at the bay and then back at you.

“Whatdya say we go for a walk? Catch some fresh air? Maybe we can help each other figure out our next moves so poor Angel here can close up for the night.”

Bradley must have sensed some apprehension in your gaze, because almost seconds after speaking, he held his hands up innocently and laughed.

“I promise I’m not suggesting this out of an ulterior motive. Just suggesting it as a guy who’s sorta in the same boat as you and could use some company.”

You looked at your watch and shrugged your shoulders. You certainly didn’t want to head home any time soon, and Bradley seemed genuine enough, plus, it was nice having someone who understood what you were going through, even if it meant both of you now had to completely reevaluate your lives. You set your credit card down on the table for Angel to ring up your bill, but before he could take it, Bradley shook his head and handed it back to you.

“It’s on me.”

“I can’t let you pay for my drinks, but thank you.”

“Listen, it was money that was gonna be spent on my wife for a Valentine’s Day dinner anyway. Least I can do is pay for your two…pink…whatever those are.”

“Strawberry margaritas.”

“Right, yeah, those. Pink tequila with fruit.”

He smirked as he closed out the tab for both of you before hopping off his barstool. He politely offered his arm out to you as you stood to your feet. Angel shot you both a knowing grin, waving you and his friend off as you headed out. The air on the pier was mild, a soft breeze blowing in off the water of the bay. As you headed down the street together, chatting about life and what you did for a living, Bradley’s rank in the Navy, his favorite sports, your favorite movies, you almost forgot about your ex and the breakup you’d been trying to numb with fruity heartache medication moments ago.

As it turned out, you and Bradley shared a fond love of baseball and romantic comedies, you’d both grown up watching classic movies with your grandmothers, both had a fondness for old music - Elvis, The Beach Boys, Jerry Lee Lewis, Neil Sedaka - it turned out that for two strangers with a 12 year age gap, you had much more in common than you could have expected. In fact, you’d actually argue that you and Bradley had more shared interests than you and your ex had.

As you both wandered up the street towards Seaport Village, the bayside shopping district set up alongside one of the piers, you basked in the glow of the streetlights over head, taking the time to appreciate the calmness of the bay, the sights and sounds of the water as it took your focus off the happy, lovestruck couples that walked around past you all.

The moon hung low in the sky overhead, glowing against the deep blackish-blue backdrop of the night sky, appearing to have a neon glow behind it. Bradley looked up at the sky, letting out a loud, exhaled breath as he shook his head.

“I don’t wanna head back to base and deal with the mess waiting for me there. Never thought I’d be filing divorce papers on Valentine’s Day, you know?”

“I have to call 150 guests and tell them that the wedding scheduled for May isn’t taking place but they can still come eat the cake that we paid for at the venue that I can’t get the 50% deposit back for.”

Bradley laughed softly, although the laugh wasn’t one of happiness - more one of pity for the two of you over your situations, and how neither of you wanted to go home because it would mean taking action with the hands you were dealt, no matter how unfair they were.

“Fuck, how’d we end up in this mess? I guess I should be thankful that she and I never had kids then, right?”

He laughed again, a dry, hollow laugh at his situation. “I wanted them, she didn’t. I just figured in my late thirties that it wasn’t really an issue worth pushing and it was probably best if I didn’t.”

“My dad was 44 when I was born, I never thought it was weird, if that helps.”

“Hey, means I’ve got 4 years, right? Can’t really adopt a kid when you’re in the Navy though, with not being home a lot and all that, and I don’t know if I see myself remarrying or anything. Besides, I feel like it’s asking a lot of a woman to settle down with me then have her waiting at home alone most of the time, or alone with our kids, if we have ‘em. Seems a bit unfair. I guess I could retire but, I don’t know if I’m ready for that either, you know?”

“You just have to find someone who wants to wait for you. You know, someone who doesn’t mind being a military spouse.”

“Good luck with that,” He said with a dry chuckle again, “I wouldn’t wanna be one if the shoe was on the other foot, it’s a lot of me to ask someone else to do it.”

“Well, I’m not suggesting you ask a random girl on the street to marry you, Bradley, I meant like, date, get to know the woman, find out from there if she’s cool with it.”

“I guess so,” He sighed heavily as he looked up at the moon, “You know, always thought I’d have a marriage like my parents did. I know my dad died before I was really old enough to remember, but I see pictures and you just…you knew they were crazy about each other. Maverick always said they flirted like they were a couple’a teenagers on their first date all the time.”

“Bradley, do you wanna come grab a coffee with me?”

“Coffee? It’s like nine at night.”

“Yeah, I could use some sobering up though.”

“Ah, what the hell. I don’t have to be anywhere.”

Bradley gestured in front of him, allowing you to lead the way. As you began to walk on the outside of the sidewalk, he shook his head and gently placed his hand on your shoulder to guide you to the inside.

“Sorry, force of habit. My mom always said not to let a lady walk on the outside of the sidewalk. She said my dad never let her risk getting splashed by a puddle when they walked down the street. Sorta trained it into me by the time I was 10. Maverick and my grandma both agreed. Think it’s an old Southern thing.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind it,” you smiled softly at him, rolling your shoulders into a subtle shrug.

Bradley smiled at you, a genuine, proper smile. His previously stoic and reserved look had melted away momentarily, deep dimples forming either side of his mouth. Bradley’s caramel coloured eyes seemed to glisten as the moonlight caught them, amber flecks sparkling before he shook his head, an awkward chuckle escaping his parted lips.

“You know, I gotta thank you.”

“Why’s that?”

“You helped me forget temporarily about what I have to do tonight when I get home.”

“I guess I should thank you for the same thing.”

“I haven’t felt this at ease in…a really long time. I guess I always kinda suspected she was cheating, but I didn’t want to believe it. I mean, no one wants to think that way about someone they love, right?”

“No, no, I get it. I sorta knew my ex wasn’t feeling the same way. I just told myself I was overthinking it. He never said anything until today.”

“He told you today that he didn’t love you anymore? Today of all the days?!”

“Yeah, came home from a half day at work to spend the afternoon with him, just to come home to him doing the classic “We need to talk” line.”

Bradley hummed slowly and shook his head. He ran a finger through his caramel toned waves and sighed, trying to think of what the right thing to say in response would be.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Bradley silently opens the door to the coffee shop for you, once again gesturing for you to go first. You can’t help but admire the way everything he does seems like something out of a movie set in the 1950s - his mannerisms, the slight lilt to his voice, the way he holds doors open, offers you his arm, insists on walking on the outside of the sidewalk - all for a woman he’s only just met. It’s likely sympathetic actions towards you - feeling bad that you’re in a situation similar to his own, at least, that’s what you’re going to tell yourself.

“Pick your poison, I owe you one for the margaritas.”

“Nah, I’ll pick up this one. Like I said, it was set aside for a nice romantic Valentine’s dinner. I got it.”

“You know, under any other circumstances, this would have made for a cute date spot.”

“Margaritas and coffee?”

“I meant a nighttime stroll along the pier to a coffee shop, but now that you mention it, margaritas and coffee are one way to do it.”

“Hey, I mean, maybe this isn’t a date, I don’t think either of us are ready for that, but, it’s a nice first time hanging out.”

“Maybe the next time we hangout we can do it under less…distressing circumstances?”

“Maybe next time we hangout I can take you out for that nice dinner you and I both were expecting to have tonight,” Bradley shrugged as he sipped his coffee. “You know, as friends, or whatever.”

“You know what, I may take you up on that. You know, as friends…or whatever.”

Bradley slid his phone across the table to you, having opened it to the new contact screen. You quickly typed in your contact details, smiling fondly as you handed it back to him, along with your own phone.

“Next time you venture across the bridge, maybe text me? We can go for a coffee or something, or catch a ball game when the season starts.”

“I’d like that,” Bradley said with a satisfied smile as he sipped his drink.

“But this time, I’m buying.”

[apoptoses]

It is #Molloy Monday and I am here to remind you that Daniel is featured most from 1975-1985 aka the Sluttiest Era of Modern Male Fashion.

Coming in HOT we have the cut off short shorts and cropped t-shirt or mostly unbuttoned button down combo. Daniel visited some warm climates during the chase years so I invite you to picture him in the tiniest ripped jean shorts sweating over whether or not that auburn haired lady down the street is actually Armand!!

Or going into the 80s sometimes the tops were REALLY cropped and exposed midrift and back!! Like just picture Daniel fucking around on Night Island in this, wow wow!!

But even when the pants were long the t-shirts were TIGHT, maximum pec definition through the shirt was a must.

If he didn't wanna show that much skin? That was fine because turtlenecks where IN baby!! These are basically vampire lingerie imo, covering up the most succulent part of the neck but still leaving a hint exposed below the jaw?? Armand had to have been dying of thirst!!!

(Also when it says Armand came to pick Daniel up from jail in a lawyer's tweed suit? He wasn't wearing no modern cut, he'd have been rocking the big lapels because this was the 70s tyvm)

Also important to note was that the 70s were the era of glam rock and androgyny, so picking a silky button down that looks like a women's blouse? Totally okay for men, very in style so long as you leave the top buttons undone to expose maximum chest.

Btw velour? Was IN. This is the 1979 equivalent of a juicy couture tracksuit which Armand could have snuggled right into while they were living in London.

And while the 80s sees the rise of a looser fit, that doesn't mean the crop top died or that people weren't still rocking a more form fitted jean when they were feeling casual.

This photo is from NYC in 1983 and shows that tight t-shirts and short shorts were still very much alive, just styled a bit differently! A tight top and looser straight leg jeans, or short bottom and a flowy open top took the place of all fitted looks.

Or that the mostly unbuttoned button down went away- if anything in the 80s the buttons went even LOWER and more revealing. Paired with a boxy linen suit this is essential 80s Miami aka Night Island looks.

and yeah that's spader, leave me alone, he's peak 80s here

This sweater is loose but it's got the deep V neck and a sheer knit, perfect for the beach!!

And yeah this is Sapder AGAIN but note the half open shirt, leather jacket, and jeans that get tighter near the ankle!! Classic 80s, baggy but still sexy, A+.

I SWEAR this is the last time I'm gonna use and abuse him but peep the muscle tank with the DIY cut edges on the arm holes! V neck! 80s!!!

Basically the takeaway here is that if you're putting them in the 80s and having them rock something baggy and double denim, the look still featured a tight waistline and rolled sleeves or rolled ankles to tighten the jeans. It wasn't just baggy all over!!

Here's some random images from the entire era to finish off:

So next time you're working on fic or art instead of just tossing Daniel into a regular old t-shirt and jeans consider doing some slutty 70s and 80s looks instead 😌

[heartsforvin]

NSFW ALPHABET - VINNIE HACKER

y’all already knowwwww 🤭🤭

been wanting to do one of these so here it is (:

A - aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

vinnie is very big on aftercare. always making sure you’re taken care of first before him, even if you tell him you can wait a minute. if he was a lil rough on you, he’ll run you a bath and help you relax. whispering praises in your ear as he kisses you softly.

B - body part (favorite body part of theirs/ their partners?)

vinnie’s favorite body part of his is his arms. he loves the way they hold you in an embrace and just have a protective hold around you at times that you need.

his favorite on you however is definitely your ass. (i know you all saw that one story he posted a few days ago. i’ll add it at the end). he loves your tits too, but he’s definitely an ass man.

C - cum (anything to do with cum)

vinnie lovesssss to cum on your tits and watch it drip in between them. he’ll take some of it on his fingers and make you lick it off and that drives him fucking crazy.

D - dirty secret (what’s their dirty secret?)

vinnie loves, loves, loves when you take control, although he definitely would not admit it. (he’s like 80% sure you know he loves to be submissive).

E - experience (how experienced are they? do they know what their doing?)

vinnie isn’t the most experienced but he definitely knows what he’s doing, enough to know what he likes and dislikes.

F - favorite position (what’s their favorite position?)

I JUST KNOW HE LOVES WHEN YOU RIDE HIM so, cowgirl. he lovesssss watching your tits bounce in his face and groping your ass every second he gets.

G - goofy (are they more goofy or serious during sex?)

during your guys’ first time together it was more goofy, he had done this before but you haven’t, so he tried to make you feel as comfortable as possible while making a few jokes. it depends on his mood though, now that you two have been together so long.

H - hair (how well groomed are they?)

vinnie is well groomed, always makes sure he takes care of himself down there. although if he does forget to shave, he knows you wouldn’t mind. it’s more of a personal preference for him.

I - intimacy (how romantic are they during sex?)

depends on his mood. if he’s angry or irritated, he’ll take it out on you and be rough. if it’s an anniversary he’ll get the room all ready for you with candles and soft music for your guys’ special night.

J - jack off (how often do they masturbate?)

vinnie does it pretty often, when he has time alone at least. since he has a busy schedule he can’t always see you and please you, so he has to do it himself. usually to some polaroids he has if you in his nightstand drawer.

K - kink (what are their kinks?)

praise (giving)

dom & sub dynamics (more dom than sub)

dirty talk (giving and receiving)

somnophillia (giving and receiving — CONSENTED OF COURSE)

mommy kink (very slightly though)

L - location (what are their favorite places to have sex?)

mainly the bedroom since he likes to take his time with you most days. occasionally he does enjoy the quickies in a public bathroom though.

M - motivation (what turns them on?)

ANYTHING YOU DO TURNS THIS MAN ON I SWEARRRR ,, when you wear his tshirts and boxers around the house? turned on. big t-shirt no pants? turn on. he loves the way you get when you’re concentrated, he thinks it’s adorable but also so hot at the same time. you could literally be walking across his room and his dick will be hard. (he’s a freak we all know this 🙄).

N - no (what won’t they do in the bedroom?)

honestly vinnie is open to anything as long as you’re completely comfortable with it. if he asks you if you wanna try something new but you seem weary about it, he’ll shut it down and reassure you that if you aren’t comfortable, you don’t have to do it.

O - oral (do they prefer to give or receive? how good are they?)

vinnie lovesssss eating you out and you know it. mans is a FREAK. so he def prefers to give but loves when you give him head as well.

P - pace (are they fast or slow? are they rough or gentle?)

like i said before, definitely depends on his mood / how he’s feeling that day. most days though, he’s slow and gentle, wanting to feel every part of you. on the days he’s frustrated by work/ someone or something pissed him off, he’s rough and fast, taking his anger out on you.

Q - quickie (what is their opinion on quickies? how often do they have them?)

vinnie is the quickie king LMAOO , but due to his ongoing busy schedule that’s all you two have time for sometimes. he’ll take you anywhere he can if he’s feeling extremely needy. kitchen counter? public bathroom? in his car? anywhere really.

R - risk (are they willing to take risks?)

vinnie is very open to risk taking, and loves experimenting/ exploring with you. this goes hand in hand with the quickie, he’ll do anything anywhere if he’s desperate for you.

S - stamina (how long can they last? how many rounds?)

since vinnie is physically fit i’d say his stamina is a good amount, he can last a pretty long time before finally finishing. he usually goes for 2-3 rounds, keeping you in mind and making sure you’re still in tact.

T - toys (do they own any toys? do they use them on their partner?)

vinnie has a vibrator in his dresser that he loves to use on you. other than that, he doesn’t have any other ones.

U - unfair (do they like to tease?)

VINNIE LOVESSSSS TO TEASE YOU , whether it’s whispering things he wants to do to you in your ear while your with friends, or actually physically teasing you. he loves it.

V - vocal (how loud are they?)

i just know this mf is vocal as fuck. especially when he’s the submissive one. he’ll be in your ear moaning and whining for hours. but when he’s dominant, it’s mainly grunts and muffled moans.

W - wild card (a random headcanon for them)

wholeheartedly believe this man is very submissive when he wants to be. as i’ve been saying. also def think he has a bit of a mommy kink but that could just be me.

X - x ray (what’s under their clothing?)

definitely about 7-8 inches MAX , and he takes pride in it too. always being so cocky around you about it too, and making jokes.

Y - yearning (how often do they want sex?)

WE ALL KNOW THIS MAN IS HORNY ASF (same tho) but, he’s got a relatively high sex drive. he tries to get in one round a day at least. but if he can’t, he’ll take it to the imagination at the end of the night and do it himself.

Z - zzz (how easily/quickly do they fall asleep after sex?)

vinnie is very good about not falling asleep before you. he’ll make sure you’re completely taken care of first before worrying about himself. he usually doesn’t fall asleep until 20-25 minutes after you, he just loves laying by you and stroking your hair as he looks at you with pure love.

swear on everything this took me two hours 😭 it deleted all my writing at first so now it’s 1am while i’m writing this and i’m TIRED

imma take my horny ass to bed, i hope you all enjoy this ! been wanting to do it for awhile (:

TAGS SINCE I KEEP FORGETTING ; @forevergirlposts @slvthrs @bernelflo @leqonsluv3r

ALSO here’s that pic of vin i said i’d add 🤗