#make it a christmas heist

[goingroguepod]

HELP WANTED: Ten (10) handsome dudes to heist the Lucasfilm archives and steal the Star Wars Underworld scripts

I need to know what Mr The Great and Mr Life on Mars and Mr Broadchurch wrote for Coruscant Vice

[bananafishiguro]

i’m like 3 days too late but here is my married kagehina christmas hc no one asked for

christmas tradition in the kagehina household: they take tape and fully divide the house in half and each of them is responsible for decorating one side of the house and then they have a panel of judges (kenma, yachi, suga, and tsukki) come judge which side is better. interior and exterior. the house looks fucking insane and it becomes a legend in the neighborhood. and for MONTHS leading up to christmas kageyama and hinata are secretly planning and plotting themes and making pinterest boards and every year it just escalates way over the top each trying to one up the other one. the loser has to do the christmas dinner dishes

[fingertipsmp3]

Ah yes, my favourite time of year: the time when we figure out what the hell to get my grandma for her birthday

[call-memissbrightside]

As a single parent, you worked overtime to make sure your son had a great Christmas… toys, clothes, all a good mixture of needs and wants.

The warm mug of much needed coffee was cuffed in your hand as you pretended to be at awe of all the presents Katsuma unwrapped.

His excitement made up for being woken up so early, a sleepy smile on your face as you watched Katsuma thank you over and over again for all the things you got him.

Christmas was usually a quiet thing in your household, Katsuma would unwrap all his presents, you’d unwrap whatever craft he made you in class, then the two of you would cuddle on the couch to watch Christmas cartoons. Katsuma would fall back asleep tucked into your side, and Christmas would be over.

Yet—

You hadn’t thought of what Christmas would be now that Katsuma had his father in his life.

A text from Katsuki in the early morning hours explained how he’d be a bit late coming over, something about a bank heist?

Right when Katsuma opened his last present did the doorbell ring, both of you perking up.

“It’s Daddy!” Katsuma’s excitement spiked, and he tumbled over all his toys and wrapping paper scattered across the floor to open the door.

“Ho ho ho brat!” Katsuki’s voice boomed, heavy boots from his hero costume mimicking the jolly man’s costume.

You explained to Katsuki that he shouldn’t go overboard with presents, Katsuma really didn’t need a swimming pool nor an electric car because he was just five, so you really thought he’d simmer it down when it came to gifting presents.

You were dead wrong.

“It’s a puppy!” Katsuma jumped around as his father carried in a small puppy in his arms, you noted how he must of just came back from a mission due to the fact that he had scratches and a rising bruise forming on his face. Nonetheless, your ex looked just as happy, carefully handing over the pup to Katsuma.

“A dog?” You were going to kill him.

Katsuma begged for a dog or any pet every year, but you just couldn’t do it. You worked all the time and lived in an apartment, plus all the responsibility would fall to you because Katsuma was five.

Katsuki had his famous smirk on his face, red eyes taking in your disbelief.

“Yea,” he said nonchalantly. “It’ll live with me, but can come visit when I come over.”

Relief made you fall back against your couch, visions of chasing around a teething puppy evaporating as quick as they formed.

Katsuma forgot all his other presents, now all his attention was on the small puppy.

“Mommy hold it!” He shoved the poor puppy in your lap.

Sensing you weren’t as excited as Katsuma, it curled up in your lap and fell asleep once you started petting his head as your son quickly excused himself to go, quote, “take a leak!”

Laughing, you looked at Katsuki. “You’re rubbing off on him.”

Katsuki snickered, collapsing next to you on the couch, clearly tired but still reached out to stroke the puppy on its head.

“Damn right, he’s my kid.” Katsuki smiled.

He truthfully hadn’t been this excited for Christmas in years, and seeing his sons reaction to his present made up for the fact that he had to fight off some lousy villains in the morning.

“A puppy? You trying to make me look bad?” You joked, still in disbelief that Katsuki ‘won’ Christmas. Not that it mattered, but you knew when Katsuma was asked what he got for the holiday, he’ll bring up the puppy rather then all the other toys you got him.

Katsuki tipped his head back to laugh.

“It’s my first Christmas with him,” he shrugged. “I wanted it to be memorable.”

Katsuki took something out of his pants, before handing you a small box.

“Oh Katsuki, you didn’t have to—,” you were quickly cut off.

“Just open it woman, sheez,” katsuki rolled his eyes.

Opening the box, you gasped, inside was a beautiful necklace with Katsuma’s birthstone and a small ‘k’ dangling next to it.

“So you’ll always have him with you, even when the brats at my house playing with my awesome present.” Katsuki knocked your shoulder with his.

You were touched by the sentiment, and the necklace was beautiful. It was thoughtful, and sweet, but you had something up your sleeve.

“Box on the left, it’s yours.”

Katsuki groaned as he got up to retrieve it, but returned to sitting next to you.

“Katsuma? Are you okay?” You called out to your little boy, slightly worried he was taking some time in the bathroom.

“I’s okay mommy!” His little voice called out. “I got a big dump!”

You and Katsuki both laugh, and the hero opens up his present.

It was a photo album of Katsuma over the years, you smiled fondly of all the photos you remember taking of your baby as Katsuki looked at every page. The last four pages had recent pictures of Katsuki with his son, some sly photos you took when they were together.

“I’m always going to be sorry I held Katsuma from you when he was born,” you explained, the similar guilt weighing heavily on your chest. “But,” you jutted your chin to the photo of Katsuki helping Katsuma ride his bike, “I hope we can make more memories together.”

Katsuki was silent. You worried for a moment you did something wrong when he didn’t say anything. Then—

The puppy barked unhappily from being startled when Katsuki hugged you tightly to his chest.

“Thank you,” he mumbled against your forehead. “This is the best present ever.”

You smiled, eyes becoming teary.

“I guess I ultimately won Christmas,” you teased.

Katsuki barked out a laugh, letting you go and petting the puppy again lazily, flipping through the pages again of the scrap book.

“I guess I can live with taking second place.”

[cherry-leclerc]

stolen sweethearts ☆ cl16

genre: humor, angst, yearning, pining after three years so maybe slowburn??, fluff, second chances, whipped!charles

word count: 4.3k

Everything that leads to your wedding day and ends up with a knock on your door from your ex-boyfreind and an infamous letter.

req!...longer than intended, whoops! enjoy, anons :)

inspired by this !

“You’re making a mistake—”

Your eye twitches in the slightest, glossy lips curling into a snarl. “Shut up and be quiet.”

“What?” 

Looking down at your boyfriend, dressed in Armani from head to toe and a blank expression, you wince apologetically. You grasp his hand tighter, knuckles becoming white, and smile widely, tears brimming the corner of your eyes. “Not you, honey!” A wet chuckle escapes when he visibly relaxes. “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes.”

The engagement party was a pleasant surprise, filled with congratulations and early wedding gifts. It also brought out a large group of your friends from hibernation. “Felicidades,” Carlos says with a teasing smirk. “I truly never thought I’d see the day you settle.” 

You bit the air. “Ha ha. That was the old me. New me is a completely changed woman thanks to true unconditional love. It’s crazy, try it out some time,” you shoot back. 

The Spaniard simply scowls and bows away, returning to his earlier conversation. You consider yourself lucky—as if you committed a successful heist and somehow got away with it. He was handsome, with bright eyes, dark hair, and tempting lips. There truly wasn’t a single flaw to your now fiancé. And if there were, no one ironically saw it but Lando.

“You’re making a—”

“Mistake?” you finish off his sentence, sighing and rubbing your temples. “So you say.” You were in the middle of ordering yourself another piña colada when he hounded you like a madman. The Brit blows out with a tired expression, as if he were giving up on all of humanity. 

“Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.” Angling your head to aim a dirty glare, you silently flip him off as he uses your earlier words against you. 

“Aren’t you tired, Lan? It’s been three years, let it go.”

The blue eyed boy musters a threatening look and then rips your sweet treat away from your grip, immediately claiming ownership. Your brows fly up with an offended scoff. He chugs it all down before shaking his curls adamantly. “No, I will not let it go. Bloody hell, you’re one stubborn gal—you can’t go through with this.”

For the shortest second, a ray of hesitance strikes your face when you spot your fiancé, happily indulging in a round of shots with Carlos, Max, and Daniel. The group laughs with amusement over something he says. Your lips wobble, turning back to your friend, shooting lasers. “Why not? And please don’t say—”

“Charles.” Somehow, even with the mention of his name, your world still manages to spin off its axis, alarming your remaining sanity. Last time you saw the Monegasque was quite the day, ending with regretful words and inferior decisions. Lando grimaces when you let out a shaky breath. “You know you haven’t gotten over him. And I can guarantee you that this…” He spins his index finger around the flashing room. “Will not make the difference you're hoping it will.”

-

Have you made your Christmas list? I told you I need it at least two weeks prior. I work well under pressure, but for God’s sake, honey, this is too much. Charles chuckles, cleaning his pair of Ray Bans against the hem of your skirt. You sigh. 

Oui. Making his way over to his duffel bag, he retreats a crumpled up piece of paper. Oh, um, shit. The green eyed boy cringes with embarrassment, pouting modestly. You swallow the giggle sliding up your throat when he frowns furthermore. I swear I had it! It must've gotten crushed with all my stuff. You know what? Charles strolls over to the flight of stairs. I’ll just make a new one, give me a sec. 

As soon as he leaves, you yawn, stretching out like a cat. You can’t help the fluffy feeling; Christmas always adds to it. But something about this one felt distinctively different and you couldn’t place the reason why. 

Your orbs flicker across the dimly lit room before falling back to the thin piece of paper. Patting your palms on your thighs, you get up and delicately open it up, curiosity overflowing. It shouldn’t have mattered, he was going to re-write it anyways. 

His calligraphy had always been messy, and yet you always—somehow—understood; from the start of his sentences to the final dot. But this had to be the one and only time you wish you weren’t so comprehensive. 

I’ve been thinking about us

A lot recently, actually

I’ve had some thoughts over these past few weeks and

I think we should just end things.

You bat your eyes, already feeling the pressure forming behind, stinging harshly. Was this meant for you? For you to find? Had it been intentional the moment he pulled out the fucking note? Would he just not come back and was it all an excuse?

But he does. And his pale face answers all of your questions. 

Oh fuck, what have you done?

Rage fuels within you as you briskly brush away the acid sliding down your burgundy cheeks, heat rushing through your body. What have I done? What the fuck is this bullshit, Charles? 

The Monegasque instantly rushes over, trying to get ahold of the piece of paper. You rapidly pull it away and force a step back as you let out a wet chuckle. He winces at the cold sound. Why would you do that? Why did you do that?

So you’re not denying it? You wrote this? You knew he had, his writing was imprinted into your brain like a manuscript you had professionally studied endless hours.

His skin only loses more color with every passing second. I’m not trying to blame you! I did. I did write that—but that was so long ago, you have to believe me, and I can explain! He kneels down, silently pleading you to bless him with a spare minute. Just let me explain it all to you. 

I never took you for a poet, you bitterly spit out as you continue skimming through the full page. You have a lot on your mind—a lot. Scanning his desperate state, you can’t help but let out a soft whimper, scrunching your nose. 

I’m not, shit. He grips your thighs from where he is and lets out a set of shaky breaths. Do you remember when—

I don't want to remember, you let out. I just simply want to forget. 

He can creepily hear the way your heart is breaking and how his follows along with every word, puncturing his soul. You don’t even notice his coming arm, taking half of the note away and you irritatedly pull back, causing it to rip in half. 

That does it, bullying you down to the floor where you start to cry. Out of anger, out of betrayal, out of everything. The green eyed boy tries to soothe you, mumbling into your hair but you’re too busy zoning out that you don’t catch a single confession.

Leave.

Charles flinches; you can feel it as he presses close to you. What?

He almost doesn’t recognize you when you furiously push him off, crawling back with a sense of suffocation. Pain crosses his eyes as he watches you create distance. I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you here anymore—leave.

Anyone who knows Charles would know that he never gave up. He either spoke down on himself and pitied for a while, but never ever gave up. So this was a first. A tough pill to swallow.

If that's what you want me to do, then…okay. He stands up firmly, but inside he’s terrified that his limbs might call out for the day. But I love you. So don’t ever ask me to stop. And he walks out of your life after evilly twisting the knife.

With a new note and ring box deep inside his pocket.

-

Despaired eyes flicker over to where Charles eases into a conversation with Carmen and George, occasionally clenching his jaw. You hadn’t invited him—that’s just absurd—but he had gotten word from blabbermouth Pierre and you didn’t have the solidity to say no. From the looks of it, he didn’t want to be here either.

“Well I’ve got news for you, my dear friend, I love Hudson, so climb on board because this is happening…” Your voice trails off the second your ex looks up, as if he felt your eyes drawn onto him. Normally they’re dazzling and filled with joy, but the unfamiliar injured expression is like a punch to the gut. Your conscience calls you out on it, slapping you back into reality. Turning to Lando, you purse your lips tightly. “Who even is Charles?”

-

“God! When I saw Charles had showed up I just wanted to dig up a hole and never come out! Who would willingly go to their exes' engagement party?” Like a spinning top, you fume at Kika whose eyes shine at the sight of you, even after barking. “You should have warned me Pierre would do that. God, I hate that jerk sometimes.”

The Portuguese hums. “Me too…” You flick a questionable brow. Kika giggles, fixing your white gown, feathering it out like a dove. “I know, I should have! Bad friend, bad friend,” she childishly says. You can’t help rolling your eyes, returning your attention back to your reflection. “But if we’re being truthful here, someone should have warned Charles.” 

“What are you talking about?”

Taking a quick sip of the complimentary champagne, she nods enthusiastically. “No one gave him a heads up. He thought it was just any other ordinary party—nowhere near a proposal.” 

Your stomach churns, mortification taking over at the sudden report. Charles’ reaction was odd, but you couldn’t help filling up with satisfaction, climbing onto your high horse when you saw it. Never in a million years did you ever consider that being a surprise to him too. Hellooo? Coughing awkwardly, you swat her hand far away. Kika yelps. 

“Yeah, well he deserves it.” You chug down the rest of her drink in a matter of seconds. Her wide eyes grow larger as she nervously giggles. “No one ever gave me a warning either.”

-

You were never one for being superstitious, but if anyone ever taught you something valuable, then it would be to never make contact with the groom before the wedding ceremony. He probably didn’t know any better—it of course wasn’t intentional—but that doesn’t stop your heartbeat from spiking up when you spot your fiancé sauntering over to where to stand.

“What are you doing here?” you hiss. Hudson furrows his thick brow. What are you talking about? I came to see you. You look fucking hot by the way. Squeezing your eyes shut, you shoo him, expensive jewelry clinking against one another. “Listen, that’s sweet and all, but you need to leave or else you’re going to ruin it!” You already did, the devil on your shoulder growls. You try relaxing, but can still feel the tenseness shifting between your shoulder blades. “Hudson, I’m dead serious, go.”

The stubborn brunette raises his arms in defense, mouthing a quick wow and walking back out. Were you being a tad bit colder than intended? Was there a better way to deal with the unwanted interaction? Yes. Probably. That’s what you tried to convince yourself because you knew the longer you pondered, the quicker you would realize that Lando was right.

You were making a mistake. 

Charles isn’t any better off. He twists and turns the entire night, debating whether he should attend the occasion he knew would most likely make him flat line, but the curiosity definitely got to him. He always wondered what type of dress you would exclusively choose, perfect in every detail. Your hair, your heels. Your smile. Because they weren’t all the same. There was the kind that would sort of slip to a subtle, shy frown when he would compliment you, so he often saw lots of those. Or the kind that would cause your eyes to crinkle—he witnessed those when he would tickle you half to death, laughing loudly as tears would start to form. What he would kill to see you beam back at him once again…

But naturally, he talked himself out of it. What good does it do for him? The following morning, as he blinks strangely at the white wall, he starts to reminisce to himself. Like your first date—which was originally for both Carlos and Isa—but you both weaseled your way in. Or the time he taught you how to skate; only to remember he doesn’t know how to skate. He kept apologizing as the doctor secured your arm with a bright pink cast, but you only laughed, begging him to be the first to sign it. You were probably high off of meds, but still. 

A peculiar feeling washes over as he spots an old shoe box. He almost dashes out of the arctic room when he realizes what it holds, but deliberately crunches down to open it. 

And he knows what to do.

-

“He wants to see you,” Lily shrieks, peeking out into the hallway, then jumping back in. The teal dress was doing wonders for her skin tone, but you couldn’t help the agitation. Tell him I don’t want to see him. We have a whole lifetime to do that, you groan, slipping onto your heels. 

Your bridesmaid clicks her tongue, widening the entrance as you hold back a much needed gasp. “I think you should tell him yourself…”

“I only need a minute,” Charles stammers, a thin layer of sweat coating his sharp nose. You’re too afraid to speak, so you robotically nod as you watch everyone scurry out, giving you two privacy. The twenty-six year old shyly gets closer, gently pinching a piece of paper in between his clammy grip. Your heart stops. “I walked beneath a ladder…on my way here,” he clarifies. You blink, long lashes fluttering like a fan. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn.”

-

If I had known you were this manly, I would’ve married you a lifetime ago. It slips out like a force of nature before you can stop yourself as your boyfriend halts from his task. The day was soon ending, late November, and you were both working together on painting the bedroom your dream shade. He had tried talking you out of it because it was simply—just white— but you had hounded him until he agreed. Now he stands here with a white coloring staining his dark gray shirt and you’ve never been happier.

Is that something you might want? Charles tries to play it cool, picking up from where he left off, lips itching into a goofy grin. To get married?

You’re almost glad he’s not facing you since you're as bright as a tomato. I won’t lie, I’ve definitely thought about it. You take a sip of water, suddenly caught with a dry throat. Could be nice. 

The Monegaque flips around to face you, placing the paint roller down and strolling over to where you sit criss-cross. You visibly gulp; electricity slipping into the small room. It would be, wouldn’t it? His pink lips ghost over yours as you lean in a bit. 

Yeah…

Could kiss you anytime I want… Kiss. Fuck you anytime I want… Another kiss. My fucking dream.

You moan against his touch, melting away like an ice cream sundae. I-I-I really think we could do it; be married. You had been together for so long now, you’re honestly surprised you hadn’t had this conversation any sooner. I would choose that exact same shade for my dress, you squeal, pointing at the wet wall. He hums. Not eggshell, not timid white—whipped cream, if you will.

Ahhhh, smart girl, he teases, nipping at your bottom lip. You practice this shit when I’m not around?

You laugh. I’ve been taught all kinds of tones from birth. My father was a painter himself, remember?

Of course I do, mon amour. He only created the best piece of art yet, he announces with a cheshire smile, watercolor eyes pointing down at you. You blush. 

You’re such a klutz, you would probably do something stupid like walk underneath a ladder on our wedding day. You only do it every time, you say, wiggling out of his grip as he tickles you. 

I swear I don't do that shit on purpose, it just happens, okay?

Pressing your nose against his, you cozily sigh. As long as we don’t see eachother until the actual ceremony, then I won’t be too upset. 

Is that a promise?

You nod. That’s a fucking vow.

-

“You called it.”

Shifting uncomfortably, you chuckle when you nearly tip over. “Yeah, you’ve always been like that, but don’t think about it too much—it’s not like it’s your wedding.”

He clenches his sharp jaw. “Sure, but bad luck is bad luck, no? And I think I’m quite familiar with it.”

His words shouldn’t impact you so much years laters, but they do. Perhaps it’s due to his sorrowful stare, or his anxious tick, but it kills you just the same way it did that December night. You let out a light shudder, blinking away tears. “What do you want, Charles?”

“I wrote you a letter.”

God—a heartfelt note is the last thing you wanted and today was not the day to receive it either. Or ever. Not when it came from him. “I’m sorry, but it’s a bit too late for that. I’m about to be a married woman in approximately an hour.” You narrow your neat brows, flawless makeup shimmering against the sunbeams. “What gives you the right to walk back into my life, get shit off your chest for your own sake, and just for you to do what? Leave?” 

You’re not being fair; not completely, but you can't help it. For the longest time, you thought you were over it, but clearly not. Charles licks his rosy lips, closing the gap between you two. “This isn’t something I just came up with.” He extends his arm out. “I wrote this three years ago.”

You inhale sharply, suspiciously eyeing the white paper. Please, just read it. Back then you could never turn him down, as much as you tried…

And it appears like today wasn’t any different.

It’s almost hilarious to think about how much you cried on your proposal date and how much you are now. You were a light rain at best when Hudson got down on one knee, but Charles stands here, tall, and you’re a complete waterfall. 

“Y-you were going to ask me to…” A headache comes rolling in as you let out a wet cry. “This isn’t true; it isn’t real. You wrote this today and came here to fuck with me.”

The Monegasque shakes his head in panic, blood painting his higher cheekbones. “No—listen; the first letter you found, I did write that.” You grimace. “But I swear I took it back immediately. It’s just that you were getting so much hate during that time, and you would always cry, and then you’d say you were never crying…You were in a really dark place. Do you remember?”

How could you not? You knew not everyone was going to love you for dating one of the top Formula One drivers, but you never expected to read such brutal messages either. They were descriptive, and cruel, and ruthless, and it crushed you more than you’d like to admit. Which was fucking stupid since there was always a rather large community that loved and adored you, and Charles loved and adored you—and yet.

You release a shaky breath, desperately rubbing your eyelids. Lily would probably throw a fit at your now snotty and smudged makeup, but you couldn’t really think too deeply about any of that right now. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The brunette cradles your face and you hate when you lean into his warm touch. “I just wanted all of that to end; for you to feel better. And I could never actually say the words, so I drafted a letter, and I’m so fucking sorry, mon amour.” The tides crash inside your chest, getting harder to breathe. “It has been my biggest regret. Hurting you.”

He did more than hurt you; he broke you completely. Like a porcelain doll, like a trophy, like a mirrorball; it ruined you. But you know he knows that when his eyes slowly turn red. “But then I thought to myself, it doesn’t have to be that way! W-we could restrict comments, I could post something and stand up for the woman I love, and I could reassure her by vowing the most sacred thing there could ever exist…And I sat down and wrote this letter.”

If you thought Charles loved you before, then you’re a fool. He was utterly infatuated, devoted, obsessed and drowning in fervor. This letter may be old, slightly cutting loose around the edges, but it’s pinned as straight as can be. Not like the last.

“My only mistake was writing the first, and to even consider giving up on us. My best decision has been writing the second, and promising to stick by you the way I knew I was put on this Earth to do.” Charles carefully draws you in closer. “But I know nothing could ever fix the shit I’ve put you through, but I’m begging for the chance to try.” He kisses your temple and you relax against his lips. “I’m fucking desperate—just one.”

He slips out his original ring box and shines the gem back at you. It’s smaller than the one Hudson had given you, thinner too.

But it has you written all over.

A dizzy spell hovers over as you blink hastily. Charles doesn’t dare to breathe, waiting for you. “This isn’t…I just…” You bite your lower lip, glossy orbs flickering towards the band and then back at him. “Thank you for taking the time to apologize and clear things up; I really needed that, but I can’t do this.” You step out of his embrace, immediately freezing as if you were spending a winter in Iceland. His heart palpitates hysterically, green eyes skimming your features. “This isn’t what I had in mind—this isn’t what’s supposed to happen,” you press sternly.

“You’re right; it’s not.” Though you had just said the same, hearing him repeat it jams the knife deeper into your heart. You can hear chaos ensuing down the hallway, your friends chirping happily at one another. Contrary to what was going on in here. “It’s not because you can’t marry him. Because you know you don’t love him the way you say you do.” He laughs. “You tolerate him at best! I saw the way you avoided him getting down on one knee that day. You kept running off until you couldn’t anymore.” You burn up. “And who was the first person you looked for as he slipped that ring onto your finger? Me.”

“You’re paying too much attention to detail,” you retort, almost snarling.

 “Sure, and that’s eggshell.”

It’s like a slap to the face. Your blurry vision focuses onto your dress for a second before snapping back up. “It’s whipped cream. The way I wanted.”

The Monegasque rolls his watercolor eyes, nostrils fuming. “Open up your eyes and see—It’s. Eggshell. Nothing about this is anything you ever dreamt of for your wedding! From your dress, to your ring, to your fucking fiancé!” He huffs. “This ring is all I could have afforded back then, but I would have sold my heart to get you a fucking star if that’s what you wanted…But you’ve always liked the simpler things. You always said you didn’t need a huge diamond to prove your devotion. Look at you now,” he says, signaling to your ring that swallows your hand whole. “All of this is fake.”

You’re sobbing now. You’re bubbling with anger. Because he was here, with you, out of all days. Because he was still the same man who broke your heart and stitched it back up. 

Because he was right.

Brushing your nose with the back of your hand, you stare up weakly, defeated. “What do you want me to do?” you whisper, brows drawn together as he folds over completely over your goddess state.

“Don’t marry him and come with me.”

Though you knew that was what he wanted from the moment he walked past the door, it still knocked the last breath you held. 

Things were never easy with him. There were constant fights—but that never seemed to matter by the end of the day. There was constant hate—but you always braved through it because you needed him. 

And he steadied you. Charles was the first one to apologize, even if the majority of arguments weren’t his fault. Charles was the one who despite crushing his own heart, he wrote that letter to keep you untouched from his fans, from the media.

The letter hurt; like a motherfucker—and it would take a while to forgive…

But there’s no one else you would rather work through with it than with him.

Smiling softly, you nod, almost as if you can’t believe you’re actually doing this. Charles lets out a heavy exhale, laughing as he hugs you tightly, leaving you like a fish out on land. But you’re giggling through it all. “I have to talk to Hudson first, oh God, I have to talk to his family…” you shriek, pale and mortified.

“You know,” he starts. “We could skip all of that and just—”

“No,” you coldly press. Charles’ brows fly up. “I have to do this.” Distancing yourself from him, you wobble to the wooden door before looking back at the handsome man who stands proudly with his neat suit. Butterflies expand freely. “You’ll still be here when I get back, right?”

With a single hand pressed against his heart, he nods, as if you held the keys to all gates. “I’ll be wherever you need me to be from now on.” With that, you grin, eyes crinkling and exit the room.

What happened to your makeup? Lily squeals when she spots you running down the hallway, tripping over her tall heels as Alex catches her. There better be a reasonable explanation to this!

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @val-writes

[bookscorpion73]

I’m doing it guys (no not selling soul to the devil) I’m making one of those posts saying if I get enough notes on this I’ll finish my wip writing projects lmao anyways

if this gets over 100 notes by Christmas I’ll write and publish (on ao3 or wattpad) my Sci-fi/Dystopian book by summer

if this gets over 200 notes by Christmas I’ll write and publish both my Sci-fi/Dystopian book and my summer enemies to lovers rom com by fall

if this gets over 300 notes by Christmas somehow I’ll write and publish my Sci-fi/Dystopian book by summer and my summer enemies to lovers by fall AND my Christmas rom com by next Christmas

and if this somehow (by act of god or my crazy moots) gets over 300 (edit: I meant 400 I didn’t meant to put 300 twice lmao) notes by new years I will do all of the above AND write and posit my fantasy enemies to lovers vampire heist story by next new years

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics where Louis is a villain of some sort as requested in an ask I can no longer find oof Hope you see this rec whoever asked for it! If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

💀 Wanted Most by BornOnABeach

(E, 156k, thief Louis) Louis Tomlinson is a thief, and a damn good one at that. Most have heard of him. Most don't understand him. And Harry Styles is the FBI agent who can never seem to catch him.

💀 Cover Me with Jewels by ShatteredGlassHouse / @larryislove

(E, 55k, thief Louis) the one where Louis is a jewel thief and dating Harry Styles, the heir to a designer jewellery business empire, but Louis worries Harry will discover him, so he disappears for five years. 

💀 Tied Down by HamPalpert

(E, 48k, drug dealer Louis) The most interesting case in Liam and Niall's careers falls directly into their laps, courtesy of an epic fuck-up of one Harry Styles, partner to the almost-infamous drug dealer Louis Tomlinson. 

💀 I'll Throw Away My Faith (Just To Keep You Safe) by @theboyfriendstagram

(E, 42k, assassin Louis) AU. Harry Styles is an MI6 agent on a mission to find out who’s planning on killing the Prime Minister. Louis Tomlinson is a wanted professional assassin, hired by the MI6 to kill whoever wants to kill the Prime Minister.

💀 Please, Deceive Me by Larringiscaring

(E, 42k, thief Louis) Louis robs casino's with his ex-boyfriend, and Harry trusts a criminal a little more than he should

💀 no pressure, no diamonds by @karamelised

(E, 42k, thief Louis) Louis is a thief, Harry a grifter. They are thrown together for a huge diamond heist in Paris, where their past soon catches up to them.

💀 Buried Like Treasure by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 40k, thief Louis) Semi-retired thief Louis Tomlinson has been pulled in for one last job: steal a painting from an uninhabited mansion. Neither one of them expects a natural disaster.

💀 The Risen (series) by @creamcoffeelou

(E, 28k, cult au) In search of the next breaking story, Harry goes off to do something no one else has been able to do: get the scoop on Louis Tomlinson and his devoted group of followers.

💀 For You, I Will (I Don't Believe in Magic, but) by theweightofmywords / @lil0

(E, 17k, criminal Louis) Louis leads two lives, when all he wants is a simple one with Harry.

💀 focal point by rainbowsandgucci

(M, 8k, thief Louis) By the time you read this, I’ll be gone, so don’t bother looking. Last night was lovely, Harry, I’m sure you agree. Sorry to run, but that’s just how life works sometimes, I’m sure you understand. Don’t forget about me. xx P.S. Thanks for the money

💀 Daisy by Jennifer_Kaid / @poetsreprieve

(E, 3k, mob au) An assassin who lurks in shadows, who kills with a detachment towards his victims, their death always displayed artfully for anyone who stumbles upon the corpse once his work is done.

💀 Stealing My Trust by Phillipa19

(E, 3k, organized crime) Harry hates the danger Louis' 'job' puts him in, but no one ever said being in love with a criminal would be easy.

💀 we're swimming with the sharks until we drown by velvetnoodle

(T, 3k, thief Louis) There’s only one thing that makes Harry’s job on the casino floor bearable, and that’s a chance to grab the attention of the mysterious man who frequents the establishment often.

💀 How to Catch a Christmas Tree by Anonymous

(E, 2k, omegaverse) It's two days until Christmas and Harry needs a Christmas tree.

💀 Marionette by Anonymous

(E, 2k, witch Louis) Harry is a vampire on the hunt. He doesn’t know that he’s not the top of the food chain.

💀 The shape I've made you into by flamboyo / @riverswater

(M, 1k, established relationship) "Sometimes, I wish you'd hit me."

💀 Twenty-Eight by @beardyboyzx

(M, 1k, spy au) Agent Harry Styles has finally caught his nemesis, but there's a knot in the plot he's not ready to detangle.

- Rare Pairs -

💀 To Catch a Thief by StormDancer

(E, 49k, Zayn/Louis) There are some rules even thieves have trouble breaking. Marriage vows, for instance.

[hwanchaesong]

Idyllic (Mutual Pining) Preview

pairing: Jake X F!Reader

synopsis: He conceals his presence well and you are a good secret keeper. A combination that ends up in a museum of doubts and hesitance. Then again, a game of hide and seek never hurt anyone, right?

word count: tba

genre & warnings: angst, smut, fluff, warnings tba

a/n: this is a teaser for the upcoming Enhypen: Tropes & Parallels series that i've been working on. i hope y'all look forward to it. please don't hesitate to tell me if you wanted to be added to the taglist. tysm 🩷

You tried to hold your tears back, keen on not showing any signs of weakness, not on a special day like this.

It's your birthday, for fucks sake!

The day you were born, the day you graced the earth with your presence. It's a day where you're supposed to feel like you're the only girl in the world.

So why the fuck are you outside, in the garden of the party hall that your friends went through the trouble of renting? Why the fuck are you sitting on a grass while wearing your prettiest dress, weeping like a child?

"Y/N? Why did you leave the party?"

Ah, there's the reason.

Sim fucking Jaeyun, better known as Jake.

"No reason," you tried to stabilize your voice, key word: tried, "just needed some fresh air."

Jake squinted his eyes at your slumped figure, he'd be lying if he says that he believes that pathetic excuse of a lie that you told him. He'd be kidding himself if he says that he wasn't able to read your body language, clearly, something is bothering you.

"Tell me." he declares, walking closer to you and that turned on a switch in you, panicking on what you should say because he can't see you like this.

He's not supposed to see you in such a sorry state, sporting Rudolf's red nose when it's months away from Christmas. Fat, ugly tears pooling in your eyes and your mascara must be ruined by now. He's not supposed to see you being this down bad for him, to the point that you're willing to bawl your eyes out in a place like this.

"Don't come near me! Please, leave me alone." you accidentally yelled at him, wrapping your arms around yourself and totally losing it. You hid your face on your arms, sobbing quietly, not having it in you to continue bearing the pain of having the love of your life be the loss of your life in one night.

It was your fault. Everything was your fault.

You didn't confess to him when you had the chance. You let him meet new girls, you supported him when he said that he wanted to talk with the girl that was recently transferred in your class.

It was your fault for being a mess, for being a coward. It was your fault for settling in the title of being friends.

The times when you shared secret glances across the room, the touches that were far too long to be considered platonic but never really given the meaning that they deserve, the sweet nothings that you whisper to each other after a long, tiring day.

You were the culprit behind the heist, so really, you shouldn't act like the victim. It's unfair for him.

You deserve this, to be left alone, wallowing in self-pity and cursing yourself repeatedly until you couldn't breathe anymore.

As your castle crumbled, you felt warm arms around you, the familiar figure dropping to his knees, pulling you onto his sturdy body, fingers soothing through your tangled strands.

"Jake?" you whispered his name, hoping that it was him. Wishing that he didn't really leave you, that it's him holding you, comforting you through this situation that you've put yourself in.

He hummed, his answer making your heart explode into the most colorful shades of fireworks.

"I'll be the biggest asshole if I leave the girl I have prayed for all my life here, crying during the day that she was given to me by the gods."

taglist

@lilyuwon @ramenoil

[tropes-and-tales]

A Bit of Color (Redux)

Day 7: Virginity (Ray Merrimen x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Light angst (implied attempted SA, but nothing graphic); loss of virginity; smut (Fingering, PiV, protected); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4448

AN:  This is a sequel to this, and it was requested for Kinktober by @chemicalalice)

After the debacle of the Christmas gifts, and after Ray apologizes, he tries to do better.  After learning about your similar childhoods—growing up in difficult military families—he finally feels a kinship to you.  It’s a commonality he never had before.  You with all your color and light, you baked goods for the crew, your care for them.  Ray’s never known anyone so much his opposite, yet that common facet of childhood give him an in to understand you.

He tries to do better by you.  He tries to not be such a dick all the time, tries to remember his home training and thank you when you do something nice for them.  He tries to tell you when you do a good job; he tries to offer one of his small smiles when you make a joke.

He doesn’t tell you:  when LA has an unseasonable cold snap, he uses the quilt you made him for Christmas.  He doesn’t tell you that when his insomnia plagues him that night, he runs his fingers over the small, neat stitches of your handiwork, over the small blocks of soft cotton you cut and sewed together. 

He doesn’t tell you that months after you gifted it to him, months after he hurt your feelings and then clumsily apologized…months after all of that, he finally realizes how much time and energy you put into this quilt.  For him.

It doesn’t make him cry or anything like that.  Ray has no outsized flood of emotion at the realization.  It simply knocks something loose in his chest, scores a microscopic crack in the flinty wall around his heart.

-----

Your secret reveals itself after a heist.  You hacked the security system of a club, the guys robbed it, and now there’s a celebration out at Bosco’s house.  It’s low-key, just a laid-back thing.  There’s plenty of beer in the backyard strung up with lights against the Los Angeles dusk, music playing on the speakers. 

Everyone is loose, relaxed.  The guys start to reminisce about their glory days in high school, and by the time there are through their first case of beer, they shift to reminiscing about their high school conquests, their first times.

Ray sits back and listens; he barely participates beyond the occasional grunt of acknowledgement or chuckle when someone makes a joke.  He thinks back to high school, his football days.  Holly had been a cheerleader, and they’d been each other’s first—and Ray slips back into those memories.  The chatter and laughter around him fades, and he thinks back to how young he’d been then, how his future seemed to stretch out in front of him—

He's yanked out of his memories by Lavoux’s bark of laughter, then Bosco and Mack joining him. 

But not you.  Whatever joke Ray has missed, you’re not in on it.  Which makes sense—you didn’t go to high school with them, so you’ve been quiet for most of the night.  But when Ray sits up and looks at you closer, you’re slouched in your seat.  You look…discomfited.

It takes a long moment for Ray to catch up, but he does.  Amongst the memories of the guys’ respective first times, they asked you for yours—and when you told them you don’t have a “first time” story yet, the guys reacted with incredulity.

Ray just watches at first, his eyes bouncing between the guys and then you, their questions, and your squirming discomfort as you give sheepish answers.  The guys don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Ray guesses, but you clearly are.

“Are you religious or something?”

“No.”

“You waiting for marriage?”

“No.”

“Are you one of those…what are they called?  Asexuals?”

You shake your head at that, and it makes you stammer out an explanation:  that you want to, you’ve wanted to for a long time, but it’s complicated now that you’re older, that guys aren’t kind about it—

“Do you have any experience at all?”  It’s Mack who asks the question, and you drop your gaze into your lap.  You give a halting explanation about some moment in college at a party when a lacrosse player tried to…well, you hedge around it, you don’t say the word of what that guy tried to do to you, but you’re clear that he failed, that he’d been unable to get it up enough to do that to you, but that the moment made you fearful, and now you’re stuck, and it seems like only Ray can hear the edge of tears in your voice, the wobble in your words like you’re about to cry.

“Leave it,” he cuts in, but when you glance up at him in surprise, Ray is looking at Mack and Bosco and Lavoux.  “Leave her be.”

They do.  There’s a moment of awkward silence, but then Bosco shifts the conversation to the Lakers, and within a moment, everyone seems to have forgotten it.

Not you.  Ray catches you staring at him from underneath your eyelashes, and when he meets your gaze, you tip him a slight nod. 

Then you mouth a grateful, “thank you.”

Ray tips you a nod back.  He doesn’t acknowledge the feeling in his chest, the dull ache:  another knock against that flinty wall, another hairline crack in his defenses.

-----

Months pass.  If any of the guys remember that night and the revelation of your virginity, they don’t mention it to Ray.  You obviously don’t mention it either.

Ray doesn’t forget it.  It surfaces in his thoughts when he has a quiet moment, when he’s lying in bed during one of his bouts of insomnia.  His imagination pulls together that moment in college with the lacrosse player, and it makes Ray sick to think of you:  sunny, colorful you.  Young but already so steeped in tragedy with the death of your father.  The universe was cruel to put you in the path of a drunken rapist, so much larger than you.  Even if you escaped before the worst could happen, you didn’t escape unscathed, and here you are years later, wanting to be intimate with someone but too scared to do it.

You need someone you trust, Ray thinks.  Someone you feel safe with.  Someone who will keep your confidence, who won’t tease you.  Someone who will take you seriously and understand how important losing your virginity must be for you.

Sometimes, when he’s lying sleepless under your quilt, he wonders if he might be that someone.

-----

More months pass.  The crew is laying low since Mack got busted for a bullshit parole violation.  They go semi-straight, work in the garage working on cars and trucks.  They spend their evenings on their own, in a fallow season until Mack gets sprung in a few months.

You pick up work bartending, and Ray stops by a few nights a week.  He sits at the corner of the bar and usually stays silent, but when it’s quiet in the bar, you’ll come and talk to him.  Which with Ray mostly means you talk to him and he listens as he sips at his beer.

But the bar isn’t in the best neighborhood, and soon Ray finds himself there every night you’re scheduled.  He stays until closing time, and it isn’t long before he goes from walking you to your car to just driving you home outright.

It isn’t long before you go from sliding out of his truck with a thank you and a wave to inviting him in for a beer.

When he notices that you’ve started stocking your fridge with his beer of choice, he doesn’t mention it.

If you notice that he lingers longer each night he drives you home, that he nurses that beer a little longer, you don’t mention it either.

-----

Mack’s release date keeps getting pushed back.  It’s the legal system and its red tape at its finest.

You and Ray fall into a rhythm.  He drives you home after your shifts at the bar.  You give him beer, but you also feed him a late-night dinner.  It’s never anything spectacular, usually just reheated leftovers, but he likes the cozy domesticity of it.  Eating your food while he sits on your couch, you eating beside him.  Nearly close enough to touch.

A long time has passed since the last heist.  A long time since your reluctant admission to being a virgin, but Ray has never forgotten it.  He’s mulled it over like it’s a problem to solve; like the complex blend of your past trauma and societal expectations are, say, the schematics to a bank vault.

“You need someone you trust,” he blurts out one night.  You’ve been chatty all evening, telling him about some friend of a friend who got engaged.  You’re a little down on yourself—the news of the engagement has sent you into a minor tailspin.  You think you’re so far behind everyone that you’ll never catch up.

“Huh?” 

“If you want to lose your virginity,” he clarifies, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the bottle of beer in his hand.  “You need someone you trust.”

“Oh.”  He feels the tension seep off you.  He winces inwardly to have made you uncomfortable, but he plows forward.  It’s a problem he wants to help you solve, and he doesn’t examine why he wants to help you so much.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” he continues.  “You just need someone you feel safe with.”

It takes you an entire month more when you finally ask him.  You don’t meet his eyeline when you haltingly tell him that you trust him.  That you feel safe with him.

You’re so quiet, so unlike yourself when you tell him.  He can feel the fear and hesitation in you, and he can feel his own response to you trusting him enough to consider this:  the hairline cracks in his stony heart growing wider, fault-lines nearly wide enough to let you slip in entirely.

*****

You keep expecting there to be a reveal, a moment where the guys jump out and make fun of you.  You keep expecting this to have been an elaborate put-on by Ray and the guys, a cruel joke at your expense.

You’ve never been more wrong in your life.

Ray plans everything, which is pretty much Ray’s thing.  You wonder how much difference there is between planning a heist and planning the loss of your virginity, in Ray’s eyes. 

You don’t have enough experience with men to catch the way his gaze falls on you, turns soft by a degree or two.  You don’t notice that he gifts you with his rare, small smiles more than ever.  You don’t notice—how could you? —that Ray has fallen in love with you, a falling of miniscule moments, of quiet instances where you creep into his heart like groundwater finding its level. 

How could you notice that?  Even Ray hasn’t noticed it, and he has far more romantic experience than you.

He plans everything.  He sets the date.  He comes to your house, paper bag in hand, and you guess it’s condoms, but you notice that he’s put effort into himself:  he’s cleaned up his facial hair.  He’s put on a nicer shirt, and when he walks past you, you catch the scent of a recent shower—the slight spice of his body wash, the clean smell of his shampoo.

He brings a bottle of Moscato for you, but he’s clear—stern, in fact—that it’s just to take the edge off.  It’s just to smooth out the rough spikes of your fear.

“You need to stop if you feel yourself getting tipsy,” he tells you as he pours you a glass.  “You are in control tonight, so you need to be in control of yourself first.”

When your hand trembles as it grasps the wine glass, Ray’s eyes turn soft.  He reaches out and lays one of his big hands over yours, steadies you.

“Everything is fine,” he tells you, low and soft like he doesn’t want to spook you.  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, okay?”

-----

Ray has thought of everything.

The realization of how much thought and effort he put into this makes you flush from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.  Ray Merrimen, your favorite grump.  The stone-faced, unsmiling behemoth who glowers from the shadows and leads the crew like some grouchy demi-god.

Who thought he could be so gentle?  He takes his time.  He leads you carefully, but he checks in with you at each new step.  From sitting together on the couch, his palm gently laid on your bare knee as you sip at your wine.  From when he eases the glass out of your hand, then carefully tilts your face towards his.  From when he studies your expression before he leans in and presses a plush kiss to your mouth.

From when he builds up the kisses:  from closed-mouth to open, to teasing you when he sucks against your lower lip, when he slips his tongue against yours.  When he chuckles at the first low, involuntary moan you loose just from his mouth against your neck.  When his hands find your breasts and palms them softly through your shirt, when his thumbs find the pebbled nipples even through your shirt and your bra, and when he breathes in your ear how much fun he's going to have drawing your pleasure from you.

When you shiver at his words, he draws away and studies your face again.  There’s a question in his eyes, so you nod at him.

“I’m okay,” you say.  “I’m fine.”

He studies you a beat longer, then nods back.  He smooths his big hands down your arms, then reaches out and grasps your waist.

“Bedroom?” he asks.

You swallow hard, and you hope he doesn’t hear the gulp that sounds so loud in your own ears. 

“Bedroom,” you agree.

-----

You know from working with Ray that the man is meticulous.  He never rushes a job; he always takes his time.

He takes his time with you.  His patience for your insecurities feels infinite:  he strips you, he eases a thick finger into you, and he stills when you gasp, when you freeze up.  When you tell him to keep going, he doesn’t—instead he kisses you, works his hot mouth against your face, your neck, your breasts.  He kisses you until he feels you relax, and only then does he keep going.

He works his finger in you.  He adds another, kisses you through the stretch of it as he scissors his fingers to help stretch your tight channel open.  You can feel where his erection presses against your leg, and sometimes he presses himself against you hard, an involuntary reaction to whatever lust he may be feeling.  But he never rushes it, and he mumbles shy words of praise in your ear, and he takes his goddamned time.

He makes you come with his fingers first, the blunt end of his finger stroking some inner part of you, his thumb circling your clit.  You’ve masturbated plenty, but this feels like nothing you’ve been able to coax from yourself before:  his hand works you like a finely tuned instrument, but his other hand works against your breasts, pinches lightly at your nipples, rubs the pad of his thumb over the curve and swell of you until goosebumps prickle against your skin.  His mouth breathes out low-voiced orders in your ear, his breath hot against you as he commands you to come for him, to let yourself go, and you do.

It's not like anything you’ve felt before.  It’s the sudden release of tension.  It’s the hard snap of a rubber band pulled taut, then loosed.  It’s a flood of heat and light, its epicenter right where Ray’s hand skillfully works you, and it courses outward like shockwaves that make you tremble and whimper as you give yourself over to the sensation.

“That’s it,” Ray whispers in your ear, and you feel the brush of his lips a beat later against your cheekbone.  “Just like that.”

-----

Then comes the main event, and Ray slows down even more.  He checks in with you, props himself on an elbow to peer down as he interrogates you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, and his stern face is softened by his low, quiet voice.  “Do you want to stop now?”

You lay a hand on his shoulder and study his tattoos as you answer.  “I’m sure,” you assure him.  “I don’t want to stop.”

“I’m gonna need you to look me in the eye when you answer, sweetheart.”

You take a deep breath, then you do as he tells you.  You feel shy, suddenly, exposed at the realization that Ray Merrimen—grouchy Ray, the leader of your crew—has essentially fingered you, wrung an orgasm out of you.  Shy too that you want to keep going, that you want him to be your first.

“I’m sure,” you repeat, and you look him square in the eyes when you say it.

The corner of his mouth twitches into his version of a smile.  “You’ll tell me if you want to stop, right?”

“I will.”

His small smile falls, and he hesitates before he adds, “I won’t hurt you.  I promise.”

You can’t know that he’s thinking about the man who hurt you all those years ago.  You can’t know that Ray is uncomfortable to be so much bigger than you, so much stronger.  You can’t know that Ray worries that something about this moment—him looming over you, you defenseless underneath him—will spark against your trauma and cause you anxiety.

If you knew any of this, you’d be able to reassure him:  that other guy is so far from your thoughts, he may as well not even exist.  Nothing about Ray’s care and attention conjures up the specter of that unhappy memory.  You feel safe underneath Ray.  You feel safe with him.

He takes a long moment to roll the condom onto himself, and then another long moment easing himself between your legs.  He props himself on one forearm and then presses forward, the tip of his cock brushing against your slick and swollen folds.  He pauses and looks down at you.

“I’ll stop if you tell me to,” he says, and for the first time, he sounds uncertain, even a little shy.  It strikes you all at once that maybe he’s nervous too, so you lift your hands and cup his face, draw him down to you.  You gift him a sweet kiss, then you deepen it.  You tilt his head and suckle against his lower lip as he had done to you earlier, and the groan that breaks free from him is sudden and loud.

“I trust you, Ray,” you tell him.

He drags the thick length of him along your slit, coats himself in your arousal before he pushes forward, breaches your entrance with the crown of his cock.  He never looks away from you, and his unflinching, unblinking stare feels almost unbearably intimate.  Like he can read your thoughts, like he can see into your soul.

He pushes forward, draws back.  He works himself into you, but he pauses to kiss you, to whisper in your ear how well you’re doing.  It doesn’t hurt, not really—it’s just the sense of pressure, of stretching, and you can see how it might hurt with an inconsiderate lover, but Ray takes his time to let you stretch to his invading length, so there’s no pain.  There’s only the overwhelming sense of being taken, claimed.

You realize he’s fully seated when you feel the press of his hips flush against yours, and he lowers more of himself onto you.  You feel the hot flush of skin on yours, slick with sweat, and his hot breath pants against your neck.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.  His voice sounds strained, but he lays a trail of kisses along your collarbone.  He doesn’t move otherwise—doesn’t pull out, doesn’t thrust.  He’s letting you get used to the feeling of him being inside you.  He shifts his head and gazes down at you.

“Good,” you mumble.  “I feel good.”

“Need your eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You do as he says.  There’s tension in his face, and you reach up to brush your fingertips over the lines in his brow, the two deep lines between his eyebrows.

“I’m good,” you repeat. 

“I didn’t hurt you?” he asks.

You shake your head.  “No, it’s…”  You trail off, try to focus.  You’d heard the term ‘cock-drunk’ before, had always scoffed at how stupid it sounds, but having him inside you, thick and hot and throbbing leaves little room for intelligent thought. 

Ray dips his head and kisses you deeply, licks against the inside of your mouth.  He kisses you until you’re breathless then breaks away.

“Gonna need you to use your words too,” he says, and it comes out gruff except for the smirk curving his lips.

You smile back up at him.  You lay your hand on the back of his head, run your fingertips through his close-cropped hair.  “It’s good.  It’s better than good, Ray.”

“Ready for more?”

You nod.  “Yes.”

Another long, lingering kiss and then he starts to move.  He pulls out halfway, pushes back into you, and his thrusts are smooth.  No jarring, no rough jolts as he reseats himself over and over.  The motion renews just how big he is; the tight walls of your pussy grip him, the friction of it knocks the wind out of your lungs.  You cling to his broad shoulders, and you feel the flex and tension in his muscles as he fucks you gently.  But he’s big, he’s so fucking thick, and you gasp each time his hips settle against yours.

“Still okay?” he grunts out, and you whisper that you’re fine, you’re perfect, but that he’s so big, so goddamned big like he might split you in half—

“No,” he groans.  “Fuck, don’t.”

You freeze underneath him, suddenly terrified you’ve said something wrong, but then he groans in your ear before he lifts his head and stares down at you, clarifies.

“You can’t…. shit, you can’t say that, sweetheart.”

“S-sorry—”

He shakes his head to interrupt, quirks his mouth into that half-smile he has.  “You can’t look at me with those goddamned puppy-dog eyes and say stuff like that.”

“I’m sorry, Ray—”

“I’m already on a hair-trigger,” he grits out, and you’re too inexperienced to know the warning signs of his impending orgasm, the erratic way he’s thrusting into you, like he’s trying to hold back but his body is working independently of his will.  “Fucking jacked off twice before I came here…shit, want to make it good for you…”  He groans again, drops his head beside yours.  “Fuck, you feel so good, I can’t—just don’t—”

But he’s passed the event horizon of his pleasure, it’s too late to stop himself, and you’re bewildered for a beat as he groans out a string of curses, as he deals you a couple of shallow, rapid thrusts…but then you feel the throb of his cock inside you, his body rigid above you before he sighs and sags against you.

“Shit,” he breathes out.  “Shit, shit, shit.”

*****

Ray would be ashamed, but you don’t let the feeling take root in him.  Once you realize what has happened, you soothe him.  You kiss him, you stroke your hands over his arms, his shoulders.  You tell him everything is fine, that you enjoyed yourself.

Only you.  Sweet, sunny you.  Only you could turn your disappointing first time into a loving moment for him, and after he cleans you up, he grumbles as much to you. 

“But I’m not disappointed!” you protest.  “Not at all!”

“You didn’t get to come.”

“I did,” you point out.  “And it was amazing.”

Ray rolls his eyes.  He’s trying to argue with you; he wants you to yell at him for failing you.  “You know what I mean.”

“It still counts.  And I’m not a virgin anymore, so…mission accomplished.”

He sighs, and he makes one last attempt at wallowing in his failure.  “You want me to leave?” he asks, and he doesn’t know what scares him more:  you sending him away, or you asking him to stay with you.

“No!  Not at all.”  You look at him with those big doe-eyes, like some anime baby animal, and it’s made worse that you have no idea the effect you have on him.  “Will you stay?  Please?”

And maybe getting a lousy lay under your belt gives you some courage because you hook your chin on his bare chest, cast those sad eyes on him until he’s staring back at you…then you drop a kiss on his chest.

Then you bare your teeth and nip him there, light as air, but enough for him to feel the indent of your teeth against his skin.  And then your tongue on him, laying wet line along the line of his tattoos, and the whole while you bat your eyelashes at him.  Ray’s cock twitches at the sensation.

You goddamn menace.  Has he created a monster?

He stays.  Ray gets his hands on you, manhandles you until you’re underneath him again—your squeal of surprise makes his cock twitch again—and he cages you in with his arms.  There’s a split second of worry that you’ll react badly to him being a shade rougher than he has been all evening, but there’s a gleam in your eyes, and your lips are parted as you gaze up at him.

He opens his own mouth to tell you he’ll stay, that he owes you after his embarrassing premature ejaculation, that he intends to make you come on his cock more than once, but maybe he has created a monster after all. 

You don’t let him get the words out—you arch up towards him, you surge up and kiss him hard.  It takes far less time than usual for him to recover, and when he finally slides into you the second time, he’s able to make the first time up to you—he makes you come twice before he finally joins you on your third orgasm, and when Ray comes with you, it’s not like any orgasm he’s had before:  sparks of color explode behind his eyelids, and it’s damned near percussive—enough to finally bring down the stony remains of the fortress ‘round his heart, leaving him defenseless to you.

[shygirl4991]

True Color

Summary: SMG3 was told by eggman to kill SMG4 his ex rival, deep down he knew he couldn't bring himself to harm someone he grew close to so he comes up with a plan to trick eggman. Except SMG4 wasn’t a part of the plan, the man on the floor crying not only over his dead meme but at the fact his friend and crush was about to kill him. Will SMG3 be able to live through his fight with Eggman and finally admit his true feelings, he better cause there's no way a great villain like him will lose!

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Attempted murder, love confessions, first kiss, enemies to friends to lovers

SMG3 chuckles to himself dealing with Depresso was nothing, who knew this man was so weak to rats. As he walks outside his old friend Eggman follows, he is sure to be bowing down to the proof that Three hasn't lost his touch when it comes to evil. Eggman smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder “Congrats, SMG3! There’s only one final test before you can be called a true villain again.” Three smirks, this will be easy who said you couldn't be evil and still have your hero friends by your side.

“You must kill your arch nemesis!” He shows his phone revealing footage of his Eggdog cam. How did eggman know about the camera in Four’s room? How long has he been watching the man, he made a mistake putting that camera in his room. He only did it to make sure that nothing would happen to four, now look at what he did. He felt a chill go down his back as it now hit him, Eggman wants him to kill his ex rival. The meme guardian in charge of living memes, his friend. He looks down in shock as Eggman pats his back laughing “Can't wait to see it friend!” 

Three was at his new home, sitting on his bomb chair staring at the gun in his hand. He can feel himself shaking at the thought of aiming it at SMG4, so many years of trying to kill the man and he did it all without any emotion besides anger. Things have changed so much, he remembers when he was about to die when he dropped the character he played as for so many years to finally tell SMG4 that they were friends. The day they did the heist to get his notebook back, how relaxed the two were drinking coffee when he was hit with a drawing idea and doodled the two together with coffee. Then the memory of the day everything changed for him, when him and Four held hands learning about their power and about zero. 

He points the gun at the picture of SMG4 shaking and fires, the moment he pulls the trigger he focuses on his old anger bringing his old character out.  “Finally I have a reason to kill that bozo!” He focuses on the pain he felt on Christmas when SMG4 brought up old memories. He screams as he shoots down the photo of SMG4 letting out all the anger on it, he can do this he can kill that idiot. Eggdog jumps surprised at what his father did during his private bath time, barking at his meme parent annoyed as he watches the man open a chest. “Ooooo i wonder how i should kill him! Dismemberment?” he then takes out gamer bath water out of the chest “Maybe waterboarding?” 

Seeing his father bringing out his old persona makes him start barking furiously at him, SMG3 freezes hearing his son's words before glaring at him “What do you mean? I don't care about SMG4, he sucks!” his mind yelled at him calling him a liar as he crossed his arms “I’ve had no character development with him.” He can't let it fall if he loses character then those feelings come back, he won't be able to impress his old friends. Eggdog had it with his father as he yelled back at him reminding him of all the nights he would gush about SMG4 to him, how he has become happier since the two became friends. It was becoming overwhelming for him as he covered his ears “La la la i can't hear you!

As he leaves his home he stares at the castle, he feels his hand shaking again “Damn it..Eggdog is right what am i doing, why am i trying to impress people from my past?” He remembers how insane SMG4 went trying to make the perfect video to please all his viewers. Three clenches his fist “Right…RIGHT! I can't impress everyone. The person I should be impressing is myself, and I find myself impressive enough!”

He needed a plan, so he walked up to the castle with gun in hand as Eggman walked up next to him “Are you ready?”  Three smirks “Oh yeah, this is gonna be easy!” He was always a fast thinker he knew the moment he stepped into that castle Eggman was done for.  SMG4 was humming happily as he finally learned how to hand craft memes thanks to the help of Three. SMG3 opens the door to the kitchen looking around to figure out a way out of this mess, SMG4 turns excitedly “Oh hey three!” he twitches at the nickname. He wasn't sure when the man shortened his name but everytime he hears it his heart flutters.

“I was just inventing a new meme. I call him, tomato soop and his catchphrase is gonna be BLERHG.” SMG3 stares at the meme as Four was showing it off, the idiot has so much trust in him he wouldn’t see his death coming. His stomach twisted at the thought, then he blinked at the meme. A tomato that when squish color could be mistaken for blood, SMG4 finishes explaining the meme smirking at him hoping his new meme was impressing his crush “Pretty memey right?” 

Three walks forward, his eyes dark as he goes over his plan in his head, on one hand a voice was telling him to do it. SMG4 hasn't done anything for him so why let him live? But that wasn't him that was the old him that he made to protect himself in a world that saw him as evil. SMG4 eyes drop down noticing the gun “Oh a glock!” he starts to get nervous “Whatcha…gonna do with that…” once SMG3 got close enough he decided what he had to do “Oh…something i should have done long ago.” He points the gun at SMG4 causing panic in the man, this couldn't be happening this isn't the SMG3 he knows why would he point a gun at him “THREE WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” 

Three’s eyes flicker to the newly made meme, he had to do it to protect him, his gaze softened as he looked back at Four “I’m sorry… I have to do this.” SMG4 shakes unsure what was going on then the gun moved slightly to his left and fired, Four blinks and slowly turns to see Three had shot his newly made meme getting tomato juice all over the window. Eggman lets out an evil smile seeing the red splatter on the window, he walks into the castle laughing “Ho hoo good job. I guess I underestimated your evil intentions 3.  I’m glad my old evil buddy is still-” he freezes seeing a tomato with a gunshot wound “Hey what the fuck?” 

SMG3 smirks as he charges at Eggman jumping up and kicking him in the face, while he may not be as fast and flexible as his partner he still had his talents in his strength. “Sike Mother fucker!” SMG4 runs to his meme with his eyes starting to water “My tomato soup meme!” SMG3 places his hands on his hips, annoyed at his other half “DUDE! Dont ruin my epic twist! I was actually considering killing you! Like usual…” he added the last bit to make sure he wasn't showing his true emotions. 

Hearing that line made Four forget about his meme as he looked at SMG3 heartbroken “You were actually going to kill me?!” that can be true could it? He felt his tears escape knowing that he would have been dead if SMG3 didn't change his mind at the last minute, what did it mean was everything they went through all for nothing? He starts crying loudly causing SMG3 to smack him, Four was startled from the hit looking at the man who was glaring at the spot Eggman was at.

Eggman gets up “I KNEW YOU DIDN'T HAVE IT IN YOU!”

SMG3 rolls his eyes “Nah i think murder isn't very evil villainy, you people should know all villains have a code. Plus PAIN AND SUFFERING IS MORE MY STYLE!” Eggman looks down at Three who had a huge shit eating grin “Pathetic,” he now knows that SMG3 was a lost cause. But he still had some hope that something would knock common sense back to Three “All villains murder!” he takes out a rocket launcher “Allow me to demonstrate!” He points the rocket to SMG3. The man only smiles at Eggman; he spent his whole life with weapons pointed at him and eldritch gods trying to kill him, an egg-shaped villain doesn't scare him.

That was until the weapon moved targets, his eyes going wide as he watched Eggman point the rocket at SMG4. He growls at Eggman as he dashes at the man moving the rocket to not hit Four, the rocket flies out hitting the roof of the castle, an old man in a bathtub falls down confusing the pair for a moment. Seeing Eggman distracted he turns and punches the man, picking up the man on the floor he smirks ready to give the man a beating for even thinking about killing SMG4. 

“I DON'T NEED TO PROVE SHIT!” he was done with the world making him a villain, he won't let anyone change him again. Eggman, finally understanding his old friend is gone, decides to teach Three a lesson, calling his ride down squishing Three he launches them up in the air “Enjoy your last breath!”

The higher they went the more he was struggling to breath, his vision was getting blurring as he took deep breaths. An idea hits him as he turns trying to keep his breathing steady from the height “Why don't you go and steal the moon or something.” He starts to take apart the vehicle. SMG4 walks outside with his injured meme looking up at the sky confused, scared and nervous about what was going on. SMG3 looks down then back at what he was doing as he removes the last part causing the vehicle to malfunction. SMG3 takes one last deep breath, he was a meme guardian he will trust his power that falling from this height won't kill him. He winks at eggman before letting go and falling off, SMG4 drops his meme running around in a panic trying to guess where the man was going to land.

He dives, catching SMG3 quickly and lifts up the man checking if he is okay. SMG3 coughs trying to bring oxygen to his lungs “SMG4?” he turns and looks at the man's face “Yeah it's me, i don't know what the hell is going on but..i'm so glad you're okay..you are okay right?” Three coughs feeling his lungs burn, the world still looked blurry for him as Four did his best to make sure the man was comfy by laying  him on his lap.

SMG4 starts to cry again feeling so many conflicting emotions he felt he was going to just blow from all of it, he holds Three’s hand shaking slightly “Even after everything…were you really going to kill me…do you still hate me?” Hearing the pain and sadness in Fours voice broke SMG3's character, maybe for once he can let himself show to stop his idiot from crying. Weakly he reaches for SMG4 face “No you idiot, sure it was tempting since on christmas you made a shitty comment without thinking but i could never kill you…you mean too much to me.” Four’s eyes go wide as he wipes his tears, Three coughs annoyed by the pain he feels “HEY STAY WITH ME uh er maybe i have a first aid kit for this wait for me!”  He gently put Three on the floor and was going to run inside only to be stopped. 

He turned to see Three grabbing his hand “Hey..Four..thank you for being my friend.” SMG4 heart flutters finally hearing Three call him by his nickname “Hey now you're not going anywhere,” he wiggles free to sprint inside getting the first aid kit.  After taking care of Three they both sit together outside looking at the sky, Three was starting to feel better as he leaned on Four “I know today must have been a shit show for you, so in short I had old friends try to change me but you know what SMG4?” the man hums as he waters his meme helping it feel better.

Suddenly Three turned his face getting close, Four blushed unsure what was happening “I realized i don't need to prove to anyone how evil i am. I don't need to prove anything because I'm happy just the way I am.” SMG4 smiles softly at him leaning into his touch “heh well i'm happy your you to three, you had me scared you know i really thought i did something wrong or…you lied about being friends again.”

SMG3 frowns at the memory, he did a lot of bad in the past to think he was here at this moment with someone he used to want dead. Now the thought of anything happening to Four made him sick, it made him angry. It then clicked to him all those confusing feelings he had these past months, he was falling for his rival after everything they went through he grew to love the man in front of him. He would kill for this man, he would die for him. Four was giving a confused look to Three wondering why he was still caressing his face only for his eyes to go wide as Three leaned forward kissing him.

SMG4 felt as though his body was being electrocuted from the sparks he was feeling from the kiss, dropping the watering can he turns his body and wraps his arms around Three’s neck kissing him back. Eggman’s plan was to bring SMG3 back to the dark side but all he did was show Three just how amazing the light was, he won't ever let this go no one will ever lay a hand on his SMG4 as long as he lives. 

It was the next day and SMG3 smirks as he traumatizes Steve by telling him his sandwich was made of chicken, he does his evil laugh not noticing his boyfriend was rolling his eyes “I see some things never change huh?” Four pats Three’s back only to get a smirk from the other man “Hey now scrub you say this but you wouldn't have me any other way!”

Four chuckles and nods “I wouldn't want you any other way three, now uh could i get my coffee i have been waiting here for an hour.”

“Nope, just cause you're dating me doesn't mean you can skip the line now go sit and wait or i'm going to make you wait even more!”  Four signs before letting out a smirk he quickly kisses Three’s cheek making the man's face go red “WHAT THE!? THATS IT NOW YOUR NOT GETTING SHIT YOU…YOU…baka.” he lets out a soft smile before going back to work red in the face.

[jarviscockerssecrethusband]

One thing I love about the harringrove fandom is the agreement both that Steve is dyslexic and Billy is a MASSIVE reader.

Because while Steve’s always been surrounded by teachers or his parents or exes who either believe that he’s incapable of appreciating reading or that he just doesn’t care, Billy thinks that’s bullshit.

Because when Billy gets told to tutor Steve in English, he doesn’t start with a book for toddlers or fucking Shakespeare. They start with Billy reading him Wuthering Heights.

And at first Steve does not fucking get it. He doesn’t understand the plot, the message and especially not the dialect. But he finds himself enjoying it a lot. Billy’s a natural storyteller. He could be on stage.

Billy’s taste in books is both eclectic and weird. He’s reading Finnigan’s Wake for fun. In Irish. He likes Portuguese romance books and German surrealism and a lot of George Orwell. So much so that Steve kind of feels that love rubbing off on him.

He’d used to like reading. Before he was told he was doing it wrong. And even though he despised the books set by Hawkins High with every fibre of his being, there was this fire set in his belly, a want to impress Billy.

So he starts with The Hobbit. Eddie “Freak” Munson’s the only other dyslexic Steve knew and he loved that shit. How hard could it be?

The Hobbit is fucking difficult. It starts with a map, Steve thinks is in Elvish and some of the chapters feel like they go on forever. The words still bounce around the page and switch constantly. He likes it though. It’s weirdly fun as a story and he finds himself rooting for Bilbo.

Henderson can never know. That is the one thing Steve is certain of.

Billy doesn’t laugh when Steve tells him that’s what he’d decided to start with. He just rolls his eyes, not meanly and says he used to read that with his mom. Back in Cali. Before Neil fucked everything up.

Billy reads a lot of Oscar Wilde. The Importance of Being Earnest is constantly tucked into his back, dog eared and well loved. Steve knows enough about Oscar Wilde to know what that indicates.

Billy’s a poof. A faggot. A queer.

Billy is like Steve.

He doesn’t have the courage to look out for anything gay. Nothing even that hints at the matter. Steve knows that his dad has The Iliad tucked away in his office. He’s away on business while his mom sits in the kitchen and complains about America. Even after 15 years in the States, she still misses Poland.

His daring heist after she goes to bed leads to him sitting on the kitchen floor, crying about Achilles and Patroclus. Billy’s right, classics are a fucking bummer.

Steves not as stupid as other people think. He knows that if this were a book, him and Billy are hurtling towards deaths door. Even in real life, he’s seen the guys on tv, worn down to the bone on hospital beds.

Gay does not equal a happy ending.

He resolves to never touch The Iliad again.

Billy comes to their next session with a black eye and his mullet chopped off. They don’t talk about it.

1984 is depressing. And surprisingly apt for how Steve feels that his 1984 has gone. He does feel like he’s constantly being watched. Like being in love is illegal. Like saying anything too far against the government will have consequences.

Steve asks if Billy thinks Orwell wrote 1984 about America or Russia. Billy snorts but doesn’t answer.

That’s the note they end on for the year.

Christmas comes and goes. So does New Year. Two months of not seeing Billy aches in his gut.

Then he comes back.

It’s the middle of February. Billy’s been kicked out for a week. Steves playing nursemaid.

He’s beaten up pretty bad. Still, Billy insists he’s had worse.

Steve hedges around asking why it happened. Like the confirmation might suddenly make the full scope of their plight real.

Still, eventually Steve asks. Billy looks at him like he’s particularly simple.

He’s gay. Obviously Steve. And he actually has the balls to go out there, meet men, dance. Even if it does mean getting caught by Neil.

During his explanation, Steve notices they’ve gotten closer together. Like significantly closer.

They’re grazing hands. Electric.

Then Billy moves.

Billy kisses him and Steve’s world turns into a fucking supernova.

They kiss and it doesn’t make Neil vanish in a puff of smoke, it doesn’t make the shopkeepers who sneer at his mother go away, it doesn’t make Steve magically able to read.

But it does make Steve feel like maybe they’ll survive.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

playing pinterest roulette and seeing what AUs i can make up based on the pics (part 1 of ???)

so this is a charlos AU, where carlos is not a racecar driver but went to a top university and eventually became a speculative fiction writer instead. his first book was an ambitious story about the theory of relativity as told through a series of art heists.

except: strange things start happening as carlos works on his highly anticipated follow-up, which is set to the backdrop of the monaco grand prix. in his restless nights, he keeps dreaming of a down-on-his-luck f1 turned getaway driver named charles.

it's a snowy winter's day, and he's stuck on the fifteenth chapter of the draft, wordsmithing a line that's going nowhere, staring at his laptop. nursing a café con leche that's quickly going cold. the doorbell keeps buzzing, and in his annoyance he opens it, about to give the delivery guy or some unfortunate christmas carollers a piece of his mind –

only to stare right into a pair of forest green eyes.

"it's mass. with time and space." charles says. carlos is too confused to even process how the figment of his imagination has appeared in the flesh. charles barges past him, fully takes up space in his apartment.

"the speed of light defines the relationship between energy and matter." charles continues, brushing ice off his gloves, face red and hair a mess under his beanie. "that's what you were thinking of. and don't stop on my account. i am so curious to see how this ends."

carlos stares, and stares, and stares. his hand has not moved from its death grip on the doorknob.

several thoughts flit through carlos's mind. uh, my macbook can do magic realism now? is this what they meant by writers being too close to the text? dios mío...¿tengo que ir al hospital??

carlos settles on: "how are you here?"

charles smiles, clutching his gloves betwen his hands. boyish and rueful as carlos ever dreamed him to be. "well. you are the one who created me, no?"

----

originally from a pinterest prompt -

letting the first pinterest posts choose my vibe - first real person, character, quote, outfit

tagging whoever wants to play it too!

[sadquickchristmassnowman]

Hiiii I have a community question I wanted to ask!!

Abed mentions all sorts of movies and tv shows through out Community, but I just wanted to know if maybe you have like a list of which ones are real and which ones he seemed to like more than others.

I can only think of the dark knight because of the dvd Annie broke, and the Star Wars movies (except he apparently hates the prequels) and cougar town!

great question! sorry for the delay on a response.

so, he mentions/references an insane number of movies and tv shows throughout the series, and I unfortunately do not have a list of every single one. although, I am (VERY slowly) working on an in-depth episode-by-episode analysis of the entire series, and listing every pop culture reference is a subsection in that. but that's not helpful right now. moving on

I don't have the picture, but there's this questionnaire abed filled out (outside of the show, it must have been uploaded to a website as promotional material for the show). he says his favorite movie is a tie between:

ghostbusters (1984, comedy/horror)

an american werewolf in london (1981, horror)

back to the future (1985, sci-fi/comedy)

blade runner (1982, sci-fi/action)

stand by me (1986, adventure/comedy)

stripes (1981, comedy/war)

star wars (1977, sci-fi/fantasy, also called "a new hope")

star wars: the empire strikes back (1980, sci-fi/fantasy)

star wars: the return of the jedi (1983, sci-fi/fantasy)

ferris bueller's day off (1986, comedy/drama)

jaws (1975, thriller/adventure)

raising arizona (1987, comedy/crime)

jurassic park (1993, adventure/sci-fi)

seven (1995, crime/mystery)

the matrix (1999, action/sci-fi)

the goonies (1985, adventure/comedy)

the breakfast club (1985, comedy/romance)

real genius (1985, comedy/sci-fi)

better off dead (1985, comedy/romance)

the fog of war (2003, documentary/war)

pulp fiction (1994, crime/thriller)

(btw if anyone knows what I’m talking about and has the screenshot please rb with it! I cannot for the life of me find it lmao)

I believe this is a list he apparently made in 2009, either in the first few weeks of school or right before the school year started. so it's possible he would answer differently as the series progressed. also, I do take some of these extra-canon things with a grain of salt, as on the same form he said his favorite place on campus was study room D or something, when obviously they definitely meant to write study room F. so, the credibility of my source for this information isn't exactly rock-solid. although, he does mention a lot of these movies on screen, and expresses love for many of them (the most notable ones probably being star wars episodes IV-VI, the breakfast club, and pulp fiction)

as you can see from the list, abed particularly loves american movies from the 80's. just a trend I thought I’d point out.

here's a few others he mentions loving, or just pretty notably references:

the dark night (2008, action/crime, as you mentioned)

rudolph the red-nosed reindeer (1964, musical/animated, is the whole basis of 2x11 abed's uncontrollable christmas)

the shawshank redemption (1994, horror/crime, is the basis for his plot with troy, annie, and shirley in 4x05 cooperative escapism in familial relations)

freaky friday (I believe it's the original one from 1976 specifically, but it's been remade a bunch. comedy/fantasy. it's the basis of abed and troy's story in 4x11 basic human anatomy)

rambo/first blood (series starting in 1982, action/thriller. abed talks about how messy the progressive series titles are in 3x14 pillows and blankets)

ocean's eleven (2001, crime/thriller, the basis for the heist scene from 3x21 the first chang dynasty)

hearts of darkness (1991, documentary/war, abed mentions it while pointedly filming dean pelton's production of his greendale commercial rather than helping with the commercial itself. similarly, hearts of darkness filmed the making of apocalypse now)

apocalypse now (1979, war/action, see the above explanation)

die hard (series starting in 1988, action/thriller, abed mentions wanting to do a die hard homage for christmas multiple times throughout season 4)

good will hunting (1997, thriller/romance, troy and abed's story in 1x24 english as a second language is filled with references to this movie. abed is doing homages on purpose, troy is not)

my dinner with andre (1981, comedy/drama, abed does a very elaborate homage at jeff's accidental expense in 2x19 critical film studies)

indiana jones (raiders of the lost ark, temple of doom, and the last cruscade only. he mentions loving the first three indiana jones movies in 1x04 social psychology)

aliens (1986, action/adventure/sci-fi, he and troy dress up as an alien and ripley in 2x06 epidemiology) (side note, I believe they're specifically referencing aliens, which is a sequel to alien. could be wrong though)

blade (1998, horror/action, they watch it over the course of 3x15 origins of vampire mythology after troy and abed assert multiple times that it is an amazing movie)

I think he generally talks about movies more than he talks about tv shows, but he does mention quite a few of them. some notable mentions are:

friends (1994, sitcom, mentions at least twice)

m*a*s*h (1972, sitcom, mentions in passing in 1x05 advanced criminal law, and references throughout 1x13 investigative journalism)

the cape (2011, action, mentions throughout 4x13 advanced introduction to finality)

who's the boss (1984, sitcom, is the premise of his whole storyline in 2x20 competitive wine tasting)

LOST (2004, sci-fi, mentions at least twice)

obviously there are a LOT more, but I just tried to list some of the most important ones, plot-wise and for understanding of his character. hopefully I’ll be able to get back to everyone with a super long list of every tv show and movie he ever mentions lmao, but that'll take a while. (there are lists online that say they list every movie and tv show abed has ever mentioned, but ngl I don't 100% trust those, so I’ll make my own lmao. but I put the link to one of them if you're curious. here's another one too)

at this point anyone who has seen community knows there are some really really big ones that I haven’t mentioned yet. pieces of media that are INTEGRAL to abed as a character. I was saving them for last lmfao. they are:

kickpuncher

inspector spacetime

cougar town

if I had to pick a holy trinity of media for abed, it would be these three things. these are EASILY the things he talks about the most, which is interesting, as both the kickpuncher movie franchise and the inspector spacetime series are completely fictional, and only exist in the community universe. (this is probably so they can show abed actually watching some of the shows/movies he talks about, without the obvious copyright issues that come with playing clips from an already existing movie/tv show on your screen. they kind of do that with blade in 3x15, but they only play vague fighting sounds, and never show their tv on our screen. anyway. not relevant.) to answer one of your questions from the ask, I believe those two are the ONLY fictional pieces of media abed talks about. as far as I know, everything else he mentions is real, including cougar town.

kickpuncher is obviously reminiscent of sci-fi/action films from the 80's, like robocop. like I said earlier, taking their place so that they could have a more substantial role in abed's on-screen life without any copywrite worries. it's a whole franchise, so there are multiple movies: kickpuncher, kickpuncher 2: codename: punchkicker, kickpuncher 3: the final kickening, kickpuncher: detroit, kickpuncher: miami (?), and kicksplasher (?). kicksplasher is apparently shown as a poster on abed's wall, and I’m assuming it's from the same franchise, although that could be wrong. the point is there's a very elaborate universe for kickpuncher, and it's a big part of abed's, and later troy's, film taste. the first time they mention it is in 1x15 romantic expressionism, when abed, troy, shirley, pierce, and chang all get together in abed's dorm room to make fun of stupid movies together. it's funny that it was introduced as a stupid movie to watch ironically, then troy and abed both end up genuinely loving it lmao. classic

inspector spacetime is obviously reminiscent of doctor who. they're both british sci-fi series that have been running for decades. doctor who uses a police box to travel the multiverse, while doctor who uses a telephone box. doctor who has malicious daleks who chant "exterminate," while inspector spacetime has blorgons who shout "eradicate." the concepts of the shows are obviously the same, with the actor for the doctor changing every season, etc etc. they're essentially the same exact show, but, like I said before, changed slightly so they can world-build without getting copywrited. there is something a little bit silly about this, though. it's definitely a continuity error and it's up to everyone whether they want to accept it as canon or not, I guess, but there's an episode where abed is actually wearing a doctor who t-shirt. (it also references bill and ted, but the doctor who part is what's relevant.) here's some pictures:

awesome shirt tbh, but it is a little bit funny that is essentially makes it true that doctor who and inspector spacetime both exist in the community universe. and, these pictures are from the cold open of 4x11 basic human anatomy, which is way after inspector spacetime is introduced to the show (3x01 biology 101). so, is inspector spacetime just a rip-off of doctor who? is abed a fan of both shows? if he is, clearly he likes inspector spacetime better. anyway. I would guess that this wasn't intentional. but that is definitely a tardis on that shirt. maybe it's just a classic season 4 continuity mistake. oh well. I guess that's just how the cookie crumbles. anyway.

cougar town time! yes, it's a real show. I didn't think it was but it is. what's not real is cougarton abbey, the short-lived british remake that britta gets abed into in 3x01 biology 101. but yeah. it has 6 seasons and is streaming on hulu, if you're interested. I’ve heard it's not good but who knows for sure. something cool about cougar town is that abed is actually in an episode. let me be clear: not danny pudi. ABED. it's similar to the story abed tells about being invited to the cougar town set and shitting his pants while having an existential crisis about the layers of reality. here is a youtube clip of the scene. I found out about it while stalking danny pudi's wikipedia page months ago, you know, a typical sunday afternoon activity, and I saw a cougar town credit on there. I didn't even know it was a real show at that point so you can imagine my surprise lmao. anyway. idk if you knew that already but it's one of my favorite community easter eggs. so funny.

okay! I hope this is enough information to suit your needs, and I am once again opening the floor to anyone who wants to add anything 💯 this was fun, thanks for the ask, and stay fresh everyone ✌️

[abiiors]

we went to winter wonderland 🎄// matty healy x reader

twelve days of christmas - day 2

a/n: i've been slightly sad about...everything and writing is hard atm but i also don't want to abandon 12doc so have something that's loosely based on my irl relationship. it's really short, sorry :( cw: none, just fluff wc: 1k

the last ever winter they spend apart is quite shit to put it bluntly. 

matty’s a million kilometres away in LA where winter’s only a concept while she’s in their bed, alone and begrudgingly cuddling his hoodie in lieu of him and cussing out her boss and her boss’ boss and so on all the way to the top until she’s googled the ceo of the parent company that owns her firm and cussed him out too. matty laughs shamelessly the whole time. one, because she looks as threatening as a baby penguin all angry and swaddled in blankets, and two, because it’s her. 

she’s never failed to make him laugh. ever. 

“baby…” he tries to pacify, “it’s alright.”

“no it’s not!” her tone is firm. "i should be with you in LA! not rotting here in our bed because work got in the way."

her nose is slightly red from being out in the cold (it was the first snow of the season after all, matty knew she would be out) but he tells her to get tea regardless. and now, armed with a steaming mug of herbal tea and the saddest pout a girl could have, she looks all the more cuddly. 

“okay how about this,” he suggests, “you have your switch don’t you? go get it.” 

her face contorts in confusion. “you don’t have yours.”

“i’ll just steal hann’s.”

“matthew!”

but she gets up regardless, even if it’s after a few grumbles of “ugh, i just got cosy!”

matty, through their facetime call, wanders through the house with her. he has to admit—it’s lonely and quiet without him there. their home—perfect for two and too big for just her. he can’t wait to get back though. even sunny LA is a touch too cold without her there. 

“what do you wanna play?” she asks once she settles in bed again and matty’s ready with the answer. 

“animal crossing.”

“babe… we haven’t played that in ages, it’s gonna be so shit!”

he frowns at her stubbornness. “just turn it on will you? it will have snowed on there. you always love making those anatomically challenged snowmen!”

there’s a small giggle that follows. she’s well aware of what he’s referring to—they almost have a competition of sorts about who can make the most deranged-looking animal crossing snowman. 

as predicted, it’s weeds and more weeds everywhere the minute the game turns on. her little avatar exits her house, looking dishevelled and still in curated summer clothes. oh well… 

matty grins. “so i was thinking…”

“yeah?”

“we won’t get to go to a winter wonderland this year!”

“yeah,��� she pouts again. 

“i was thinking we could make one.”

“in animal crossing?”

“in animal crossing!”

for a moment she’s quiet and matty worries that it’s a stupid idea. it is a little lame if he’s honest but there’s not much they can do with an entire ocean between them. but just as he feels his grin slipping, hers widens on her face. 

“matty! you are brilliant! i love you.”

“what was that?” he teases, laughing when she pokes her tongue out. 

“last to finish is the loser,” she declares. and before he’s even had a chance to plan a heist for adam’s switch, she’s shouting “go!” amidst protests from him and maniacal laughter from her. 

matty doesn’t care though—this is almost a complete 180 turnaround in her mood in quite a few days. 

two hours and a worrying amount of bickering later, they’re ready for the grand reveal. 

“mine is so much better!” she declares as soon as matty’s little avatar lands on her island. even her fucking avatar looks adorable, all bundled up in a big coat and matty’s ready to declare her the winner right there. still, he indulges her. 

he already knows it—hers is so much better! she’s always had an eye for all things cute (him included) but he stays and he listens. 

soft snow falls behind her on the facetime call and it’s clearly visible through the giant windows and the switch almost casts a perfect glow on her. not that matty’s entirely focussing on her tour of her animal crossing winter wonderland; he’d much rather stare at her while she’s talking but it’s over far too soon and before he knows it, her avatar is on his (hann’s) island and she’s laughing hysterically at his attempt of a wonderland. 

“matty!” she shrieks. “baby, this is so bad”

“what? how dare you, take that back!”

“there are weeds in the middle of your ‘skating rink’.” 

“uhhhh…” matty ends up shrugging much to her amusement. 

“yours is so shit!” she teases. “we agree that i’m the winner, right?”

“got you out of your grumpy mood though, didn’t i? so who’s the real winner here?”

“still me!”

and so he relents. two hours and a shit in game winter wonderland is a fantastic trade to make in exchange for her laugh. 

ten more minutes and she gets a little emotional again because of course she does. matty watches some of the joy in her eyes drain away, replaced by a tinge of the same sadness from before. 

“i hate being without you, especially during winters! it gets so cold.” the corners of her mouth turn down and a soft ache fills his chest. 

“i know, darling… i hate missing christmas but you’ll be with me next month, yeah?”

“yeah.”

much to his relief she doesn’t let it get her down this time, she tries to change the topic and talk about everything she’s been up to and all the plans she has with her friends. matty’s mind is made up though—this is the last winter he's willing to spend without her. come january, the ring hidden in his suitcase will find its place on her finger. 

lemme know what you think <33

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[pedroshotwifey]

Christmas Countdown Day 15 - Presents

The A-Team

Pairing: Frankie Morales x afab!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, Frankie and reader were in the military, Frankie and reader have kids, established relationship (husband and wife), breeding kink if you squint, oral sex (f), piv sex, fluff, smut, Frankie being both a menace and a pussy eating king, kids are unnamed, no age is mentioned so reader could be any age you want, stuff im forgetting

Summary: Frankie distracts you from wrapping gifts--not that you're complaining

A/N: Hey, y'all. I'm tired out of my mind, and I hope y'all enjoy this :') Tmw's prompt involves Dieter Bravo, so if you have any ideas for that, feel free to send them in <3

***

You’re finally in your zone. 

The kids are at their grandparents, Frankie’s in the shower, and you’re sitting in the middle of the living room with a stack of presents waiting to be wrapped. It’s not every day that you get a chance to get something like this done without the interruption of your kids, no matter how much you love them. 

You have the coffee table shoved off to the side so you are able to spread your supplies out across the expanse of the room. There’s Christmas music playing lowly from a radio in the kitchen. You hum along as you attempt to wrap a mini Barbie dreamhouse that your daughter had been begging for. 

It’s one of those boxes where you just can’t seem to get the perfect amount of paper to cover it. 

You sigh in frustration as you attempt to pull the ends together, straining the paper on the sides. Of course you’re about an inch short. Giving up for now, you pull the box away from the paper and reach for a slightly smaller one. 

This one contains a lego kit for your youngest son. You remember picking it up in the store and discreetly showing Frankie. Your son had been with you, thankfully distracted by your phone as Frankie quickly snagged it and snuck away to purchase it while you continued shopping. 

When he came back to your side from putting it under a blanket in the car, neither of you had enough composure to cover your smiles. You still get such a giddy feeling when the two of you complete ‘heists’ every now and again. It reminds you that, even three kids later, the A-team’s still got it. 

Of course, once you had gotten pregnant with your eldest, you had left that line of work, and Frankie along with you. You miss it every now and again, and you can tell that he does too, but neither of you would trade your life now for anything. Your husband and children make you feel like the luckiest woman in the world. 

Just then, Frankie walks into the living room, finding you smiling and staring off into space as your thoughts distract you. 

“What’s got you so happy, hermosa?” he asks as he walks to you and bends down to plant a kiss on your head. You snap out of your trance and snag his collar as he tries to straighten back up, instead pulling him to your lips for a quick kiss. 

He smiles at you when you let go of him and takes a seat on the sofa you’re sitting in front of. You set the lego box back down and lean your back between Frankie’s legs. 

“Just thinking about us,” you tell him dreamily. 

“Oh?” Frankie says with a slight chuckle. “What about us?” This time his tone holds more of a suggestive quality as he reaches a hand down to tuck a fallen bit of hair behind your ear. 

You roll your eyes and swat his leg. 

“Not like that, you horndog,” you tease, laughing all the same. “Thinking about how good we used to be.”

“What do you mean, baby? We’re fucking awesome,” Frankie says without a hint of sarcasm. You laugh at him. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “I guess we are.” 

You suddenly pull yourself up, standing in front of your husband. He puts his hands on your waist as you gaze into each other's lust-full eyes. He gives your hip a slight squeeze, and you straddle his lap, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck and slotting your lips against his. 

Frankie wraps his strong arms around you as he moans into your mouth, still insatiable for you even after all these years. His lips are soft as they glide effortlessly against yours. 

You can feel the way he hardens beneath you, and you grind into the prominent bulge presented. Frankie whimpers at the friction, hardening further. 

“Fuck, need to be inside you, baby,” Frankie says, near breathless when he pulls away from your kiss. You nod at him, jumping up and tugging him after you. You both strip as you make your way to a spot that’s not covered by wrapping paper. 

Frankie nods at the space, and you quickly lay down. You can feel the heat coming from the fireplace lit beside you, the half of your body further from it erupting with goosebumps. Shivering slightly, you watch your husband descend to his knees in front of you, situating himself between your thighs. 

He backs down, keeping eye contact until his face is level with your cunt. Your breathing is heavy as you watch in anticipation until he puts his mouth on you, immediately enveloping your clit. You moan loudly, suddenly extremely thankful that the house is empty tonight. 

Frankie’s tongue gets to work, quickly flicking over your clit and then moving lower to dip inside your dripping hole. He alternates speeds and techniques, speeding up and slowing in rapid succession as he moves his face up and down and left to right. 

He knows your body almost better than you do, hitting all of your favorite spots without effort. You jump each time he does so, your hand flying to tug at his thick waves after a particularly pleasurable spark erupts. 

Frankie groans as you tug him further into you by his hair, the sharp sting on his scalp making his hips rut down into nothing.

He jolts his arms out to secure you by your waist, pulling you further to him now. Your legs kick out as your head falls back with the added pressure, your grip in his hair tightening. 

“Fuck, Frankie!” you half yell, half moan. The intense pleasure quickly builds your orgasm, bringing you to the edge before you even realize you had been approaching. 

“Oh, f-fuck! I-” you’re cut off by your orgasm, your body shaking and going warm as Frankie pushes his tongue into your cunt. He laps up your cum as quickly as it spills out of you, moaning the entire time. 

As soon as you’ve ridden out your high, Frankie’s on top of you again, desperately locking his lips with yours as he notches himself at your entrance and pushes in with one thrust. The force of it punches a good bit of air out of you, and you have to pull away from him to catch your breath. 

“So fucking good, hermosa,” Frankie begings to ramble once his mouth is free, already pussy-drunk. “Wet and tight and warm, pulling me in so good like you’re scared to lose this cock. You won’t; ‘s all yours, baby.”

You whimper and moan at his dirty words, already feeling that fiery sensation burning low in your belly as he thrusts into your cervix with a delicate precision. He’s somewhere between fucking you and making love; almost like he wants to take his time to savor you, but he’s so addicted that he can’t allow himself to do that. 

“Feel so good, Francisco,” you tell him, kissing his stubbly jaw. “Want you to f-fill me up, baby.” 

“I know, I know. Gonna pump you so fuckin’ full of me you’ll be dripping my cum for days,” Frankie doesn’t miss a beat, his hips stuttering lightly at the thought he conjured. 

“Oh–please,” you beg, unsure what for at this point. 

“I got you, honey, I got you.” 

Frankie kisses every sliver of skin on your face as he pushes deeper and deeper into you. He only separates himself once to push his thumb into your mouth, allowing you to coat it in your saliva before bringing it over your sensitive clit. 

He begins to rub slow circles, and it pushes you past your peak, your hips bucking up as you moan loudly. Frankie makes a choking sound as you squeeze around his thick cock, triggering his own orgasm. 

He groans into your neck as he releases his cum into you, your pussy milking every drop. You’re both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your skin almost glittering in the firelight. 

When you both settle down, Frankie still nestled inside you despite his cock softening, you simply watch each other. He lays his head down on your steadily rising and falling chest, observing your beauty as the flames flicker and make your skin shine. 

As badly as you want to close your eyes and go to sleep right now, you sigh deeply and accept the fact that it’s smarter for you to finish your task. You might now have another opportunity to wrap gifts outside of your cramped bedroom floor other than tonight. 

“Alright, baby,” you say with a gentle finality that makes Frankie sigh as well. “I need to finish wrapping the presents. You’re welcome to join me.” 

You look down at him, raising your eyebrows in a way that makes your last quip more of an unskippable task than an invitation. Frankie juts his lips out, looking at you with a pointed stare. 

“Only if we can do it naked,” he bargains. You bite your lip to suppress the smile threatening to spread across your face. 

“Frankie!” you gasp, trying to conceal your laughter.

“What?” he asks with feigned innocence.  

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggle, feeling like a child all over again.

***

Thank you for reading, I love you all <3

lmk if u want to join the countdown taglist

FOTJC: @arcanefox207 @redhotkitchen @magpiepills @exquisiteserotonin @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept @beskarandblasters @tightjeansjavi @theywhowriteandknowthings @nerdieforpedro @maggiemayhemnj @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @ghostofaboy @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

WCC: @amyispxnk @melaninmommy @brittmb115 @mandoalorian @yorksgirl

Link to prompt list

[sitp-recs]

Masterlist Drarry Recs - Pt 3

• Angst with a happy ending

• Angsty secret relationship

• Angsty first time

• Addiction themes

• Ace Drarry

• AU

• Bartender AU/Pub fics

• Birthdays

• Break up make up (epilogue compliant)

• Break up make up + arranged marriage

• Forced marriage

• Divorced Drarry getting back together

• Bucolic fics

• Chef AUs

• Dark Draco

• Death Eater trials

• Draco on probation

• Disasters

• Drarry + gossip

• Drarry + mythology

• Drarry coming out as a couple

• Draco is open about his feelings | Hopelessly in love (Draco)

• Oblivious Draco | Self-sabotaging Draco

• Draco takes care of Harry | Harry takes care of Draco

• Dark Academia

• Fics with horror elements

• Esoterics and astrology

• Established relationship with spoiled Draco

• Epilogue-compliant

• Friends to lovers slow burn + redemption arc

• Idiots to lovers

• Harry-centric fics | Different takes on Harry

• Jaded Harry & morally ambiguous Draco

• Odd jobs | Militant Harry | Powerful Harry

• Harry falls in love first | Draco as Harry’s bisexual awakening

• Harry lives in Godric’s Hollow

• Hospitals (setting)

• Hurt/Comfort

• Holiday fics: Christmas | NYE

• Horcrux hunting

• Harry betrays Draco | Draco hurts Harry

• Harry breaks up with Ginny

• Jealous Harry 1 & 2 | Early jealousy

• Homophobia

• Infidelity 1 & 2

• Intense UST

• Intimacy issues

• Melancholy love

• Memory loss

• My favorite romantic fics

• Meet-cute

• Organic and routine sex

• Kink discovery

• Pansy & Blaise as side characters

• POV Outsider

• Physical hurt/comfort | Injured Harry

• PTSD & sex as coping mechanism

• Post-war loneliness

• Power imbalance

• Professors (both)

• Queer themes

• Rainy romance

• Reality show AU | Romcom AU | Sci-fi AU | Cowboy AU | Heist AU

• Religious imagery and symbolism

• Sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll | Sex Magic

• Seer Draco | Seer Harry

• Surviving together

• Soft 8th year | Field trips | 8th year Draco pov

• Sports AU

• Soothing reads

• Step dad Harry

• Successful Draco comes back to Britain

• Toxic family dynamics

• Voldemort Wins AU | War fics

• G and T long fics | Draco-centric

• Plot-oriented M and E fics

• Short fics under 5k