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#They’re getting the band back together!
harmonicakai · 22 hours
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I Bet on Losing Dogs
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Pairing: Beomgyu x Reader
Summary: Your insecurities get the best of you and you abandon your relationship with Beomgyu in the worst way possible.
Tropes: friends with benefits, angst, college AU, band AU
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings: mentions of sex (mdni), emotional unavailability, slut shaming, no happy ending :-(
A/N: This is SAD because I am currently sad and also I didn’t bother to edit it. Apologies in advance to the Beomgyu biased readers bc I know this is not what anybody asked for </3
“You disappeared Like a faint ghost I bury it in the air What am I to you?” —Ghosting, TXT
You’re a horrible person.
Really, you should’ve broken things off with Beomgyu before they even began. It’s never a good idea to be friends with benefits with somebody you actually like. 
You do your best to distract yourself from confessing your love to him by sleeping with other guys. What started bright and electric between the two of you has fizzled with each encounter, his touch now feeling dull and hollow on your skin.
So, when you wake up next to him after a movie night, your stomach drops when you see the marks he’s left on your neck. Everybody will know what you get up to, if they haven’t already been gossiping about it behind your back.
There’s a numbness to the way you slip out of his apartment without so much as a goodbye. If you had woken him up, he would’ve noticed the sad look on your face and canceled all of his plans to spend the day making you feel better.
You don’t deserve his friendship, let alone his love, although he's only confessed the latter when he thinks you’re asleep and can’t hear him. Or, sometimes Huening Kai will let it slip how much Beomgyu talks about you when they’re away.
The walk home is brutal. You’re even wearing the jacket he’s refused to let you give back to him, knowing that if you had left it behind, he’d surely know something was wrong.
When he notices you’re gone, he shoots you a text about Merriam-Webster’s word of the day. Beomgyu has never cared for linguistics, but he knows you’re a real nerd about this kind of stuff. You decide not to reply.
Things would be much easier if you could just disappear out of his life, but the two of you have become so intertwined that it’s impossible. All of your friends are his friends.
Before him, you were just some quiet girl who shrunk away in the back of the classroom. After getting paired up and reading the poetry you managed to dream up, Beomgyu knew he had to get to know you more.
For most guys, the way he acts with you would come off as desperate. But he’s so earnest in his admiration for you and your talent that there’s simply no way he could possibly be faking it.
The first time you had gotten together was an honest mistake. You had been dumped, again, and he was there for you. It seems like he always is every time another man decides you aren’t worth his time.
It’s not that you don't love him. You do, as much as you’re able to. But you know that if you actually took things to the next level and they didn’t work out, it would break you entirely.
Still, is ghosting him without any sort of reason or explanation any better?
With finals in full swing, you know you’ve got the perfect excuse to be distant for a while. It’s the summertime that you’re worried about. Beomgyu has made sure to include you in every plan of his that he thinks you’d like, sometimes even arranging entire days around you in between his band’s schedules.
Really, the easiest way out is to start dating someone else. It always makes Beomgyu shrink further away from you to know that you will consistently pick someone else over him, although he’s secretly satisfied when things inevitably go sour. He hates knowing that the only thing that drives you into his arms is being rejected by somebody else, but he wants you too much to care.
The two of you talk about everything except how you feel about him, and he knows that he isn’t entitled to any of your emotions. You’ve made it clear from the start that you’re never going to be able to reciprocate in the way that he’d like for you to.
You weren’t always like this. At the start of college, you came in with the idea that you’d fall in love and have your happily ever after. But years of being used for your body and consequently dumped without reason has ripped your heart off your sleeve.
The way Beomgyu worships the ground you walk on makes no sense. You hate yourself. Maybe he just wants something to fix, and once you finally open up to him, he’ll leave you just like everybody else.
The thought makes no sense knowing him, but it’s the driving force in never confessing how you actually feel. So, you offer up yourself physically in the hopes that it’s enough, but it always leaves you feeling empty inside afterward. No amount of kisses or compliments will probably ever change that.
Among his bandmates, you’re closest to Yeonjun. He’s the only one who knows that you love Beomgyu just as much, maybe even more, than he loves you. 
It was revealed through a drunken confession at a frat party the weekend Beomgyu went home for his mom’s birthday, where you immediately got embarrassed and proceeded to go home with the first guy who gave you any sort of attention.
Meaningless sex is really the only way you can get off these days, but the act always leaves you feeling worse than feeling nothing at all with Beomgyu. But if you’re never going to be good enough, pure enough, to truly deserve him, then what’s the harm in another hook up?
You know that every time he finds out you've been with somebody else, you’re breaking his heart. It’s just that there’s so much love from him to go around that it never actually makes a difference in how he treats you. He has the biggest heart you’ve ever seen and you don’t even have the decency to not trample all over it.
You wonder if everybody else also agrees that you’re not good enough for him. They’re so nice whenever you’re around, but you’ve seen men turn into monsters behind your back. For your sake, you try not to think about anybody else's opinion besides Beomgyu’s, but even those thoughts weigh heavy on your shoulders.
After a few days of not returning his texts, he finally musters up the courage to call you. Before you can pick up, your phone sends him to voicemail, and you know that’ll be enough of a sign for him to leave you alone.
It isn’t until you run into him dropping off your poetry final in the writing department’s office that he truly sees what’s become of you.
You haven’t slept properly in days, and you barely eat. Your eyes are constantly puffy from crying all the time, and today is no different. Seeing you like this devastates him.
“Y/N,” he says, his voice shaky and barely above a whisper. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist to keep you from running away. His demand for an explanation on where you’ve been and why is stuck inside his throat, and instead, only sobs come out of his mouth.
Beomgyu never cries, and watching as he tries to hide the tears running down his face reminds you that he must be hurting just as much as you are. You want so badly to hold him and apologize, but all you do is stare.
Eventually, he manages to collect himself as much as he can, taking in the irreparable damage you’ve caused one last time.
“Here,” he says, digging in his backpack and handing you a stapled stack of papers. It’s his final project. “I’ll go print another. I want you to read these. Please, promise me you’ll read them.”
You accept the papers, your eyes skimming over the lines of poetry on the first page. It's about you. You flip through the rest of the stack. They're all about you.
It takes everything in you not to start crying too, although you’re so exhausted that you don’t think anything would even come out at this point.
“I promise,” you assure him, although neither of you know if you’re telling the truth.
—————-
Taglist: @orangesodafoam @deezbutz28 @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @iyeeeverydee @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @stardustmooncakes @giaalorine @beomgyubabybear @niningtori @goquokka @csbenthusiast @moarmyjkhk @lizdevorak @sooberryworld @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9 @baekberrie
P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist! I struggle to keep up with different lists for individual members, but if you really don't want to be tagged on all of my works, just let me know and I will do my best to make a note <3
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fightclubgayporn · 2 days
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please ignore how wonky the composition is LOL. i was inspired by @lakesparkles and his gravespowers swap au, soo. i decided to make a (kind of) similar one with sandra and envy!! its far less of a swap au and much more of just. what if envy's exes did the league instead of ramona's exes. a better explanation under the cut!!
so in this, ramona and scott (probably?) never met because scott went joker mode after the breakup with envy. he formed the “league” as a revenge plot but none of the other exes take it as seriously as he does. they’re mostly just there to bitch and, in julie and gideon’s case, have weird evil date night with each other
julie doesnt even really count herself as one of envys exes, but she’ll never turn down the opportunity to be a bitch, or to be a bitch with her boyfriend. she made out with envy in college like twice when they were roommates so she technically counts
scott and envy's relationship plays out pretty much how it does in canon, except instead of wallowing and eventually getting over it, scott gets super trapped in his head, and ends up merging with nega scott, except not in a "im accepting my past!" way, in a "i am never going to change and in fact i am going to become worse" way. he just sort of self-isolates and stews in anger until he hears about the clash at demonhead breaking up, when he gets the idea for the league. speaking of which.
todd and envy get back together after she breaks up with scott (its the same as in canon basically) except instead of todd cheating on her with lynette, envy cheats on him with lynette. for envy, it's just a way for her to release a little stress and cope with the fact that she's not happy in her relationship, but lynette sees it as an actual relationship. she'd been pining for envy ever since the band formed, and so when envy finally propositions her, it's like a dream come true. until todd finds out and envy defends herself by saying that lynette didn't mean anything to her, ruining her relationship with both of them and breaking up the band. todd and lynette hate each other now. todd hates lynette for sleeping with his girlfriend and lynette hates todd because he "got to envy before she could." and they both hate envy because she broke their hearts. (todd was never all that in love with her, he saw the relationship as more of a status thing, but like, it still sucks to get cheated on lmfao)
gideon and envy's relationship is pretty similar to in the comics? after the band broke up, she decided to pursue a solo career under gideon's label. it was all very nebulous and they never were officially dating or in a relationship or anything but it wasn't. normal. envy was into him, but only really into the status and the money. he was sort of who she wanted to be. gideon didn't particularly care about her, but he liked having control, and she was something he had control over. it was all very weird and undefined and toxic and she left his label and decided to become an independent musician. yayy
which leads us to the present, where envy and sandra meet after one of envy's shows. sandra is there with monique (duh) but also with stacey and idk. comeau i guess. he knows everyone. stacey and envy are still friends despite scott, and so envy joins them after the concert and sandra's pretty much instantly in love. she already had a celebrity crush on envy, but having her be Real and There just solidified it. she asks envy out that night (albeit very desperately and awkwardly) and envy figures, why not. oops the relationship kinda goes great and the gossip pipeline of stacey -> julie -> gideon -> scott happens and now. sandra has to fight envy's 5 evil exes! or at least, like, three of them. whatever
god that was longer than i thought it would be. if you read all that a) thank you and b) sorry
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cioror · 1 month
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Once this releases y’all not gonna see me for the next month
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I’m so excited
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poppibranchlover · 7 months
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Trolls Band Together is already getting closer, so I decided to draw the rest of BroZone (Branch, John Dory, Spruce, Clay and Floyd) in their current conditions! 💙💚💜💛❤️
I hope you like it! I think I kinda tried my best with what they actually look like right now after they’re all reunited throughout the film. 😁
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gingerwerk · 7 months
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Finally seeing the gaslight anthem tonight 😎
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waugh-bao · 1 year
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toxicrevolver · 1 year
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Oh wait, I just seen that you recently started liking OnlyOneOf? 👀
I LOVE ONLYONEOF. I actually got into them back in the beginning of October 2022. I saw a TikTok of the choreo for Libido and I was like wait why is it gay and immediately ran to YouTube and spiraled down the rabbit hole. The first 2 Underground Idol songs/videos had just come out and I became a fan just in time for Junji to release Be Mine. OOO was actually the second K-pop group I got into a couple weeks after getting into BTS. It has spiraled since then and I actively keep up with like 8 or 9 groups now. I like so many groups tho it’s a mild problem.
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galacticwildfire · 1 year
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Omg
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preciouspatriots · 1 year
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tombrady: Beach day with the crew 🤟🏻☀️🏈
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jynjackets · 1 year
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Cassian Andor is so mother
#he literally adopts everyone or kills them#I love him so much#he takes in the most feral of cats and says ‘welcome home’#gosh#then that feral cat reminds him of why he’s doing all of this#because he was that angry cat himself once#and they become each others homes 😭#fic idea where cassian runs an animal shelter#jyn owns the bookstore next door with a books for prisoners program#they despise each others antics as neighbors and have a feud#she shoos away the cats that run into her shop#he doesn’t like how disorganized her store is and her cold nature#until their street is bought over by empire real estate and they band together to fight the gentrification#they’re setting up posters and fundraisers together for the street to keep their small businesses#Jyn stays late with Cassian one evening to discuss their ‘protest plans’#she gets to meet the animals and cassians favorite being the cat no one adopts#the one that snarls at anyone looking at it but loves only cassian bc he had the patience and understanding#cassian finds more excuses to visit jyn in her shop and asks for book recommendations often#she shows him her favorite book about a lost boy growing up to be a soldier and finding his way back home#they bond over socialist books and why they both started their businesses#they understand each other and are initially afraid of how alike they are#they fight the rent hikes with the other business owners in the neighborhood and declare their love for each other#the end lol#jyn erso#cassian andor#rebelcaptain#andor#rogue one
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awaakeandunafraiid · 2 years
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guys I finally got to see mcr 🖤
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minionwater · 2 years
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concepts of some supporting cast star crossed lovers for D★SENT >:3 design notes in tags!
#so these two r reaper and muse until I can think of better names for them#essentially they’re a grim reaper and a guy who can’t stop reincarnating. and unfortunately they r in love#i have no idea if they’ll get together at this point but they see each other for like fifteen minutes every once in a while#yknow. whenever muse dies#reaper’s design is based off skeletons you find in the forest - nature and calming death essentially. decay as a form of life#those silver bands r all centipedes#muse is based off fancy candles - the everlasting endurance of fire. you can put it out but it comes back#as for personality in design language#reaper is based off sad drunk girls in the bathroom at parties who give the best advice but hate themselves too much to see they’re so full#of life and general exuberance#and muse is based off the song ‘the cat came back’ which I was forced to sing in elementary school n thought I made up for a decade somehow#if I have to think about the cat came back for 10+ years straight. so do you#reaper is calm enough. she shows up to dying people in projections as a guide - taking the form of their most comforting memory a la black p#arade. muse is so fucking sick of being alive at this point but they can’t resist the draw of art anyway - after all that’s what they keep b#eing pulled back for#they’re much more tricksterish than reaper. at this point they kinda don’t have morals anymore tbh. but morals r a very loose concept in thi#s world anyway. they just deal with being alone much differently than reaper does. she pushes it down and they bring it forth#also the design language for dsent is that only the dead have uncovered faces. something about it being the purest form of truth#so reaper’s face is uncovered for obvious reasons. but muse’s face is partially stripped away to show just how many times they’ve seen truth#and come back anyway. for everyone else it’s one and done yeah.#there’s also their face being stripped away for the lasting impact of art beyond death even after a person n their body r gone#original character#oc#character design#sander ocs#sanders art tag#dsent#D★SENT
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luveline · 3 months
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𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧
you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can). 2k words. requested here
cw fem!reserved/shy!reader, first kiss, heavy kissing, mutual pining, eddie being a hot dork
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Some people (Steve) call Eddie your loser boyfriend, while other people (the girls at work) call him the rockstar. 
You see both sides of him now. 
“Sweetheart!” he calls, the passenger seat window rolled down, his voice strong where he shouts behind the wheel. The van bumps the curve, leaving a sanguine line of rust in its wake and a creak to make everybody on the sidewalk wince. 
“Hello,” you call back. 
The van hums. You wait for him to be at a definite stop before you approach, hands on the open window, leaning up so as to see him best. It’s not just a usual date night tonight, Eddie’s taking you to Indianapolis for a rock show, and he’s dressed the part. “Woah, you look cool,” you say, bravely, wondering if that’s the right thing to say. It’s undoubtedly true —he’s slicked his curls with mousse to define them and leave them pitch black in accordance with his eyeshadow, dark and tapped into his lash line. The top he wears is incredibly tight, carving the softer lines of his abs for anyone to see, and his black jacket is ripped in places to expose the ink of his tattoos. “Are they multiplying?” 
“What?” he asks, grinning at you. “Are you getting in? It’s freezing!” 
“Your tattoos,” you explain, opening the door and popping up into the van with one shoe on the step. 
“Shit, you wanna see?” 
You’re not scared of Eddie, you just like him. He doesn’t worry you, doesn’t pressure you, nothing nefarious about him. He’s pretty, he’s considerate, and he does stuff like this, peeling out of his jacket to flex his arm at you and show you the Saran wrapping around his bicep. “Like that one?” he asks.
He has nice arms, and they’re all the better for his painful obsession. His newest one is difficult to see well under the wrapping. He notices you squinting and moves it up, tape pulling his skin. 
“Another bat?” you ask. 
“Not cool?” 
“So cool,” you disagree. This bat is unlike the others on his arm, which are small and simple in comparison. This one is heavily detailed and very dark, fangs in small triangles bared. The eyes aglow. The skin around it is red. “Did you get that today?” 
“On a whim. Still wanna date me, or is it getting to be too much?” 
You can’t answer him, and he knows that. You’re not very good at navigating intimate conversation or circumstance, though you like him, and he must know that too. Or he must really like you. Your dates have been chaste. Only last time could you work up the courage to take his hand, but when you had, he rewarded your courage with a drove of tenderness, fingers rubbing your knuckles and squeezing soft patterns for hours at the back of the movie theatre. 
The drive to Indianapolis takes near enough an hour. Eddie puts you on map duty but doesn’t use it, ignoring your offer of directions on the insistence that he knows a shortcut and then rerouting when you get too lost. He tells you there are snacks for you in the centre console and laughs, endeared, when you pop the lid and smile at it all. You talk about the show, a band you’d never heard of but had wanted to see on the grounds of sharing his interests. That’s what couples do, right? They try to do things together. You have to put yourself out of your comfort zone, and you’re happy to try if it means you can do it with him. 
“You nervous?” he asks, pulling into the parking garage outside of the venue, a towering, multi-story fiasco crammed with cars and motorbikes. 
“No,” you say, not quite mumbling as you look down at your hands. 
“Good, don’t be. I’m gonna look after you, we’re gonna have a great time. And then we can get takeout after?” You look up. He stretches his arm out to glance at his watch. “I would’ve taken you before, but good old Indianapolis keeps getting further away.” He smiles apologetically. 
You laugh without meaning to. His smile ramps up a notch. 
“I love when you laugh. You have such a cute laugh,” he says. 
“I know you’re lying,” you say, still laughing anyways. 
“I’m not lying, I love the way you laugh!” He shakes his head, curls falling away from his face as he flicks on the light on the car roof. “We have half an hour till doors open.”
“You don’t wanna line up?” 
“It’s kind of overwhelming and I figured we’d stay near the back of the crowd for your first gig here, it gets pretty rowdy.” He says ‘pretty rowdy’ like a drag, nodding gently, eyes lit with mirth. You love it when he talks like that. 
“We can go now, get further in. I can handle it.” 
“It’s not about handling it, I want you to have a good time. Plus, they could ruin your nice dress.” 
You meet his gaze all smiles like he is, but heat flickers in your chest and in your stomach, and you have to look away. It’s an impulse you’ve always given into. You’re reserved in the feelings department but trying not to be, Eddie deserves reciprocation, but it’s hard. Either way, he seems to understand this about you, and he hasn’t complained. 
Still, a bedraggled silence falls. Nearly awkward, unsure of how to tread, you sit together in your separate seats listening to cars parking and doors opening, closing on either side of you, the headlights of the cars driving past glaringly bright, white flashing over your screwed palms. 
“You okay?” he asks. 
You’re sure Eddie wants to kiss you. Three nights ago at the movies, after an hour of languid hand holding, he’d looked at your lips no less than three times as he said good night. He told you he’d had an amazing time, and that he couldn’t wait to see you again. You’d said the same in earnest, and then he’d just walked away. All those stolen glances and he hadn’t made a move. 
“Eddie… why…” You poke your tongue into your bottom lip momentarily, chewing it over. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?” 
“Um–” He lets out a nervous giggle before roughly clearing his throat. You peek at him, watching intently as he takes his hair away from his face with two hands. “I’m just waiting on you, sweetheart. No pressure.” He laughs as he talks, a picture of panic, “You’re sort of shy about that stuff, you know? I didn’t wanna surprise you.” 
“But you do want to kiss me?” you ask unsurely.
He puts his hand on your knee, the space between you suddenly smaller and warmer, the light like white glaze on his pupils, illuminating his finer details. He has a mole nestled under his eyelashes too small to see until now; it catches your attention. You stare at him too long. 
“Of course I do,” he says, eyebrows pinching together in concern. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.” 
You nod and snap your head back to your lap. Why does he have to be so nice? You wish you’d listened to Steve, even if he was joking, you shouldn’t have ever said yes to Eddie, because now you’re terrified you can’t kiss him and you’ll ruin everything…
“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not waiting for anything. You can take your time or you could never kiss me, and I won’t care. I swear. I mean, I really want you to kiss me but I’ll find a way to cope, I’m sure.” He takes his hand from your leg softly. “Do you want my jacket? It’s cold out, n’ we should probably start walking.” 
You pull your head up slowly. 
He reads your hesitant expression. “I’m in no rush,” he promises, head ever so slightly ducked to yours. 
Okay, you think. Okay, I can do this. You hold your breath and start to lean in. He falters, a millisecond of misunderstanding, before he recognises what you’re doing and smiles. He reaches for your waist with enough care to give you a chance to change your mind, and when you’re close enough to feel his breath, his lashes shutter. 
You follow suit, blind, with nothing but your intuition as you press your lips to his. 
With a feeling like the hum of the engine under your hands, you bring your fingers to his soft cheek and hold him still. He breathes in harshly, touches you far from it, his palm slipping behind your back to pull you in. You lean into it; it feels natural to give in, to turn your head one way and part your lips, to have him kiss back with heat and surprising sweetness.
You feel unlike yourself in a good way, falling back to kiss forward again, a third time, trying to chase the lulling bliss of his lips. The stomach aching want. Your hand chases across his cheek and into the curls behind his ear, needing him closer but not expecting the sound it elicits. He sighs into your lips and you flinch back, startled by the sensation. 
Eddie rubs your back with his index finger, unjudging as you drop your head to catch your breath. 
“You okay?” he asks quietly. You can hear his affection. It’s palpable. 
You nod, a dizzy weight collected in your forehead, thankful when his free hand catches your cheek and he turns your face gently to the side. “I got too hot,” you confess, only half of the truth. 
“It was pretty hot.” He smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world, like you’ve a secret only he knows. “Want me to turn on the A/C?” 
“No, I–” want to kiss you again, you think. You might even tell him so, but he starts to blow on your face, disrupting any thoughts you’d had earlier. He purses his lips and blows cold breath on your cheek, a tenderness in his gaze and the tip of his thumb where it rests just under your eye. “Oh.” 
This might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. Your face feels precious in his careful hand, pretty under his longing look. You’re not scared when he encourages you back to his lips, your eyes quick to close, your hands across the gap of your seats to gather his shirt between tight fingers. 
His kiss is a reflection of him. Loser, rockstar, he’s eager and his hands start to betray that, his kissing melty hot and addictive as the tip of his nose presses hard to yours. You turn your face to accommodate him better and that small action drives him crazy. He’s pulling you in, smiling into your mouth, making breathy sounds that’ll stick around in your head ten times as long as the tingles filling your chest as just kisses and kisses and doesn’t stop. 
“M’sorry,” he says, pulling away, and then stealing another heavy, soft kiss like he couldn’t wait. “Sorry,” he apologises again, stroking the skin beside your eye to encourage you into opening them. “I’m not trying to get carried away. Just can’t believe you just kissed me.” 
“No, it’s okay, I– I really wanted to.” 
He kisses your cheek. You aren’t expecting it and you don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like kissing him has invigorated him, you’re a shot he knocked back, his excitement catching as he begs, “Close your eyes again, sweetheart, just one more–”
You raise your chin and he practically gasps, immediately pressing a last chaste kiss to your burning lips. 
“I’m not always like this,” he promises, leaning away, his fingertips falling from your face to trace down your neck, your shoulder. “You’re just so fucking pretty I lost my mind. I’m on best behaviour from now on, swears.” 
He raises his hand up in a scout’s honour. 
You breathe out happily. “Thank you.” 
“Oh my god. Quick, we better get out of this van before I lose my mind.” He shakes his head. “You’re insane. I have such a crush on you, holy fuck,” —he turns away from you and gets out of the van— “Jesus.” 
You pull down the sun visor to check your reflection in the mirror. You look thoroughly kissed, eyes aglow with it. 
“Fuck!” Eddie swears. You beam at yourself as he wraps on the window. “Come on, sweetheart! I have a concert to pretend to pay attention to.” 
You slink out of your seat, brave enough to try for another kiss so long as it doesn’t kill him dead right here in the parking lot. 
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed! I love knowing what you think and it means so much to me/ inspires me to write even more!!! <3 but of course I hope you enjoyed reading regardless :D 
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maplewozapi · 4 months
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I should have known if I brought up wc I’d have to talk about. But it includes of a lot of issues with feral/furry designs that use feathers in hair. I don’t necessarily know why the conversation only started and stayed in the wc fandom when horse/wolf/lion feral fandoms are still doing the same thing.
Now having feathers in the design isn’t a racial attack first thing off because there’s a lot of context around what feather’s are used, the shape, and where they are placed. If the look is anything like "rave Coachella looking tribal fantasy feathers and beads" it’s probably insensitive. I’m not to sure why it has to be feathers, I honestly think the wc fandom are holding themselves back when it comes to forwarding designs in a unique way. Tail feathers are also left out in this conversation as well, one or two feathers or feathers in the shape of a birds tail are fine but bunched together feathers are leaning to close to how we have our horses wear feathers. This is in the context of the design already looking like a "medicine cat" already its bad. it’s like those yt girls wear feather head bands but animal addition.
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I’ve talked about this before but silhouettes are so important, like Native American stereotypes are on the global scale you cannot escape this silhouette you just have to avoid it. There’s no "but it’s in so many other cultures" no it’s not it’s totally unique to our people that’s why people flock to it because it’s so "mysterious, sacred" whatever their weird twisted up reason is. There’s so many unique ways to break this silhouette you just gotta be more creative. And I feel like instead of being more creative and coming up with totally different ideas it’s just easier to lean on these visual native stereotypes to get across "wild mythical nature fantasy"
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I could get into the horse fandom and the weird situations they’re doing over there but that’s another crazy thing. I should say because someone will ask, ostrich feathers on like show horses or knights or puss in boots style is fine not the same thing (breaking the silhouette) they’re not related.
And it comes down to understanding what you are drawing and where this imagery comes from, I’m not gonna get my feelings hurt because of your design but I’ll question why are you drawing stuff like that. You cant remove that cultural/stereotypical imagery, and if you don’t care about it then you don’t care about the history or how it looks on your character and art.
I made it this far on the internet but if you want to be conscious about these things good on yea it doesn’t take much☺️👍
Edit: can’t believe I gotta say this but yes other cultures utilize feathers, if people are using feathers that are used in their culture then don’t harass them. That’s weird have some common sense. Ostrich feathers, peacock feathers it’s actually so interesting how native birds to an area affect the culture there.
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jamminvroomvroom · 2 months
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Charles jealous and possessive please! Smut 🔥
no mercy.
CL x fem!reader - 4k celebration ✨
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in which lunch with friends turns into charles reminding you that you’re all his
first 4k request up! thank you so much for this, wrote this whole thing in like half an hour bc damn this took me back to my charlie roots. i hope u love this anon, and all my lovely readers - lemme know what you think
warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, swearing, slight breeding kink, use of “slut” (in the sexy way tho!), lando causing his usual chaos (feat. shit stirrer alex), dom!charles/sub!reader, minor hints of corruption kink, slapping like once, fluffy ending
1.4k words
interesting.
the word you’d choose to describe this lunch is interesting.
charles’ hand seems to grow tighter on your thigh with every passing minute, or, to be more precise, every time lando speaks.
“so am i, ahem, are we gonna be seeing you at any races soon?” lando teases, raising an eyebrow, gesturing to alex sat beside him to cover up his slip of the tongue.
“i’ll be there whenever charles wants me there. maybe i’ll even get to see you win a race.” you laugh. you’re enjoying the company, but the impromptu lunch with the other two drivers seems to be riling your boyfriend up to new heights.
you know the brit is teasing him, and alex is lapping up the drama, stirring the pot. you certainly don’t mind if it keeps charles’ hand wandering higher up your leg. you’re just being polite, lando knows that, charles definitely knows that, but his tight smile and clenched jaw paints a different picture.
“i think we need to get going.” charles pipes up suddenly, after what feels like an eternity of silence from the monegasque man, and he throws a few hundred euros down of the table. “see you in bahrain.” he glares at lando pointedly, and extends his hand to you.
you take it, grinning apologetically at lando and alex, who both wear the same shit-eating grins. they know exactly what they’ve done and they’re lapping up the visible irritation they’ve concocted in their friend.
charles opens your door when you reach his ferrari, silently closing it and walking around to the drivers side.

“not a word.” he grunts.
his hand slips into your panties as he starts the car, and your head tips back against the headrest.
-
he throws you onto the bed, no mercy, nothing forgiving behind his rage filled eyes. you wriggle up onto your elbows, watching the way his shirt sleeves are haphazardly rolled up, the way his hands rub together. your thighs clench. his jaw is ticking, and you can see the cogs turning in his mind, ideas brewing.
there’s no warning before pounces, shoving your floral dress up your thighs. he’s met with white lace, intricately textured, gone sheer with your arousal from the way he’d toyed with you in the car, and he sighs deeply, pained.
“this is what you wear out under this slutty fucking dress?” charles glares down at you, yanking at the fabric. the band snaps back against your belly and you gulp, hard. “nothing to say?” he tuts. “you didn’t seem to have a problem talking to my friends.”
“wore it for you, promise.” you whisper, eyes wide, pupils blown. charles scoffs.
“did you really? because it seems like you’ve forgotten who you fucking belong to.”
you don’t get a chance to reply because you’re stunned into silence when a tear sounds from between your thighs. you see a flash of white when he discards your underwear, throwing them to the floor. charles forces your legs apart, settling onto his belly as if he wants to examine you.
“still soaked.” he hums, impressed. “question is, cherie, for who?” he tilts his head condescendingly and your squirm.
as if to torture you, his nimble fingers trace your folds, spreading the wetness he’s created. you buck your hips at the pressure, it’s not nearly enough, and a low whine sounds from the back of your throat.
“all for you, baby.” you promise. “please, charlie.” you beg.
“is my precious girl getting desperate? hm?” he finds your clit, circling it with the pad of his calloused thumb. you nod profusely, and he’s obsessed with your compliance. “now you know how i felt watching him want you.” he spits.
charles plunges two fingers inside of you suddenly, and you cry out, grinding your hips to his rhythm. the stretch is so delicious that you barely register the burn, not that it matters with the way he’s slicked you up already.
“baby, ‘m all yours.” you’re getting desperate now, pleading with your eyes as much as you can between squeezing them shut every time your tummy tightens.
“i’m not so sure, think you need reminding still.” charles smirks, and his pace increases tenfold.
all you can hear is the wet slap of his fingers slamming into your pussy, his other hand teasing at your clit, just barely touching it. it riles you up endlessly, and your belly aches from how tight you’re clamping down around his hand.
“wanna cum.” you slur, dizzy from the shockwaves washing over you.
“ask nicely.” charles quips sternly, slapping your thigh. it sends a jolt through you and you can’t help it, spilling around his long digits.
you expect him to stop, to punish you for disobeying him, but he fucks you through your orgasm until you’re spent. he’s grinning when you manage to open your eyes.
“so that’s how you’re gonna be, hm? you wanna act like a slut, cherie? because believe me, i’ll treat you like one.” he speaks concisely, slowly, his voice low and threatening.
he points to your dress. “off. now.”
you scramble to peel it off, throwing it off of the bed, and your bra follows suit. you lay there bare, studying him. if you didn’t know him, love him, you’d think he’s his normal self, but you can see the way he’s digging his nails into his palm, can see the way his neck is flushed red. he unclenches his hands to undo his jeans, just enough so that his cock is on display, red and aggressively hard. you wonder how long he’s been like that.
charles kneels at the end of the bed, shifting until he’s hovering over you. the head of his cock nudges your clit, spreading the remnants of your orgasm over himself and your cunt, watching the way it flutters at the pressure. and then he’s sinking in, slow, deep. he’s heavy on top of you and you revel in the weight of him, his scent.
he grins when he bottoms out, letting out a low groan. he stills for a moment, looks at you, brushes a few strands of hair away from your pink flushed face.
“apologise.” charles coos, mockingly. your eyes well with tears, so much pressure swelling in your belly.
“charles.” you whimper, attempting to thread your fingers through his hair, but he catches your hand, sweeping up the other, and pins both of your wrists above your head.
“apologise.”
and you can’t help but ramble pathetically.
“i’m sorry, charlie, love you so much, ‘m so sorry.”
the feeling of his hips hitting yours is like water in the desert: luxurious, essential. the pace he sets is brutal, utterly fantastic, a stark contrast to anything he’s ever given to you before.
this entire experience is surreal, he usually dotes, whispers lovingly into your ear as he gently coaxes orgasms out of you. this could not be anymore different.
the power he exudes, fully clothed, rocking into your quivering, naked body turns you on endlessly, unlocking a part of yourself that you’d never let anyone else see before.
“you like it better like this, don’t you, cherie? when i fuck you hard like this?” you nod frantically. “pretending to be the sweetest little angel when really, you’re nothing but a dirty fucking girl, letting him gawk at you. bet you loved it, all that attention.” charles grunts.
you arch into him, the elastic band in your core growing that bit too tight.
“maybe i need to fuck a baby into you, make sure everyone knows you’re all mine.” he whispers.
that’s all it takes. you reach your high instantly, spurred on by the filth he spouts. the tight, hot hold you have on him makes him see stars, and then he’s cumming, too, spilling warm and white into you.
it’s quiet for a moment, the air still, the smell of sex settling over the space. you relax into the bed, and gently, he pulls out of you. he smiles softly, fingers grazing your sweat dampened face. he unbuttons his shirt as he walks to the en-suite, returning to you shirtless and with a warm, damp cloth.
you smile sleepily as he cleans you up, wiping away the mess he’s made between your legs - as best as he can, anyways - and then he strips off his jeans, and clambers into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms so that your back is flush to his chest.
“was that okay?” he asks quietly. you roll over in his arms, raising your head to peck his jaw.
“more than okay.”
“i didn’t take it too far?”
“baby, it was perfect.” you giggle.
“you know i’m not mad at you, right? but i swear, if lando ever looks at you like that again, he won’t be having kids.”
-
first 4k request happy dance 🕺🏻✨
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r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e · 10 months
Text
idk i’ve been thinking for the last day about modern day corroded coffin, semi-successful in the local music scene, did a self-funded tour through six states last fall where they all lived in the van together and didn’t shower for four weeks, has a standing gig at the dive bar next to the highway and the strip club, they’re established, they have a small but dedicated local following, they —
“can’t play a WEDDING, are you fucking with me?” eddie says, when gareth shows him the text from his cousin who’s getting married in two weeks and who, as of last night, has no wedding band because they accidentally double booked themselves and gareth’s cousin had sent the deposit in late.
“i’ve explained to him so many times,” gareth says, furiously texting his cousin back, “we’re not that kind of band—”
except gareth’s cousin, instead of responding directly to gareth’s text outlining the musical thesis of corroded coffin or watching the youtube link gareth sends to the show last month where eddie got a black eye in the pit from someone in an inflatable garfield costume, just sends back —
“holy shit,” eddie croaks, looking at the string of zeros on the end of the number gareth’s cousin offers me to pay them in exchange for saving his ass and his wedding and his marriage, since his fiancé was demanding a live band. “that’s—”
“three months of rent for each of us,” gareth says, awed. “that’s buy actual fresh vegetables money. that’s go to the dentist money—”
“yeah, okay, give him my number,” eddie says.
so they spend the next two weeks practicing every white people wedding song they can think of. there’s no way they’ll be able to do, like, get low, tragically, but they can pull off the classics, especially after they bring chrissy onboard for vocals and keyboard. there are places where eddie draws the line — no fucking journey or especially insipid top 40 — but they can do some whitney. abba. fucking — mr. brightside. a lot of it is pretty simple, when you get down to it, “and people will be wasted anyway,” jeff reminds them. there’s an open bar at the six figure venue gareth’s cousin booked. hopefully everyone will be too hyped just hearing the opening baseline to i want you back to notice if they fumble anything hard.
rehearsal montage, chrissy takes the boys to the mall to buy suits montage (except for gareth who, like most transmasc dudes, already has a custom fitted and tailored suit ready to go in his closet; instead he makes catty remarks about brian’s tie choices.) chrissy makes eddie put his hair up and eddie makes jeff shave the experimental mustache he’s been growing and eventually the day of the wedding arrives and they load up the van and drive 45 minutes to the six figure waterfront reception venue.
they riff for about ten minutes while the whole wedding party makes their grand entrance into the massive tent set up on the lawn, ending with gareth’s cousin and his new wife dancing in, the whole crowd screaming and clapping. it’s cute, eddie thinks, vamping as long as he can while gareth’s cousin’s best man takes the mic and introduces the new couple and directs everyone to their seats for dinner.
and meanwhile: best man is frankly one of the hottest dudes eddie’s ever seen. he’s got longish brown hair that he keeps pushing out of his eyes, full lips, an insane shoulder to waist ratio, big hands. eddie sneak looks at him while they play a bunch of low key jazzy standards for people to eat their expensive dinner to. he’s sitting with his arm around the shoulders of a girl with shaggy auburn hair, and they keep leaning in to whisper to each other and giggle, so. oh well. but it doesn’t hurt to look, eddie thinks, watching the guy take his suit jacket off and roll up his sleeves and make a toast to gareth’s cousin and his new wife’s long and joyful marriage.
once most people have had their plates cleared away jeff turns to eddie and the rest of the band and nods, once, and while chrissy plays the opening synth chords to i wanna dance with somebody, jeff turns his front man showmanship deal all the way up.
it’s good. people are fucking hyped, so they throw themselves into it, feeding off the crowd’s energy, and almost no one is more hyped than mr. best man. he’s jumping up and down, his arms around gareth’s cousin and his wife. he knows every word to dancing in the dark (hot). when they transition into robyn’s dancing on my own he turns to the girl with auburn hair and points at her and screams. cute, eddie thinks, watching best man pick her up and spin her around while she downs her wine and shouts along. okay, really fucking hot, eddie thinks, when he finally pulls his loosened tie all the way off and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and eddie can see a hint of chest hair peeking out.
they slow it down for the first dance. it’s the leon bridges one everyone always does, but it’s perfect in jeff’s range, and there is not a single dry motherfucking eye in the audience. they do a couple more slow ones, throughout the night. best man dances with his girlfriend and then gareth’s grandmother and then with every child under the age of 10, letting them stand on his shoes while he twirls them around. how is this guy fucking real, eddie thinks, which of course is when best man notices eddie looking right at him and their eyes meet. best man looks a little flustered, at first, and then grins at eddie, right at him, before spinning the flower girl around in dizzying circles.
jesus christ, eddie thinks.
they’re closing out the night on the only other request gareth's cousin gave them: the one from the end of dirty dancing. jeff thanks the crowd, offers his congratulations to gareth’s cousin, and then goes right into it. except as jeff sings the first line everyone absolutely loses their shit, turning to best man and jumping around him and one of the bridesmaids. what the fucking hell, eddie thinks, keeping one ear on jeff and chrissy’s duet and one ear on the crowd piling around best man “—you guys HAVE to, dude, you’ve GOT to—“ but whatever it is he has to do is not immediately apparent to eddie. best man dances in a circle with the rest of the wedding party and auburn hair and the bride and groom, shout-singing along, and then during the build up to the second prechorus gareth’s cousin’s wife and her bridesmaids start pushing everyone to the sides of the dance floor, so there’s a long space in the middle, so the bridesmaid with curly dark hair is at one end and best man is at the other end and oh my god is he actually going to —
the bridesmaid runs and then launches herself at best man, who lifts her perfectly, right on cue at the peak of the second chorus, his hands steady on her hips while she floats her arms out in front of her just like jennifer grey. they hold it for a few moments while everyone loses their fucking minds and takes a thousand pictures. eddie actually takes his hand off his guitar for a minute. he thinks his mouth is open. he can see the muscles in best man’s arms flexing under his white button up shirt as he carefully lowers the bridesmaid back to the ground, laughing, his eyes scrunched up in joy.
eddie is maybe a little bit in love.
they close it out. the whole crowd whistles and stomps and applauds for them, which feels pretty good, eddie’s not gonna lie. as they start packing it up and high fiving each other and a couple people come over to ask if they have a card, if they’re still booking for next year or the year after (what?) gareth’s cousin comes over and hugs every single one of them, almost in tears, and then adds another 2k to the check he writes for them. eddie pulls out his cigarettes right then and there.
“steve, come meet the band,” he yells, when steve and auburn hair walk past. “gareth saved my whole ass, oh my god —“
“you guys were fucking incredible,” steve says, grinning, shaking gareth’s hand. “best wedding band i’ve heard in years —“
“they’re not even a wedding band!” gareth’s cousin shouts. “they’re like metal — moshing — thrash, i don’t know, LOUD—“
“whoa,” steve says. he pushes his hair out of his eyes and then turns that blinding smile right on eddie. eddie feels struck by it, wants to stagger back like he’s taken an actual blow. “cool, so you guys — play locally, or —?”
“oh my god,” his girlfriend says, rolling her eyes; steve elbows her in the side.
“i like your guitar,” steve says, gesturing at the warlock eddie’s still holding in his non-cigarettes hand.
“oh, uh, thanks,” eddie says.
“it’s a cool shape,” steve says, stepping closer, flicking his eyes down and then back up to meet eddie’s. there’s sweat gathered along his hairline, dampening the ends of his hair. behind him, his girlfriend coughs something loudly that sounds vaguely like slut.
eddie feels his eyebrows go way up.
“uh, thanks, shapes are. you know. shapes are great,” eddie says, nonsensical. he sees gareth shoot him an incredulous look out of the corner of his eye.
“can i bum one?” steve says, looking down to the cigarettes in eddie’s hand.
“totally,” eddie says. “let me just—“ he holds the warlock aloft and gestures to the open guitar case.
“sure,” steve says. he waits around while eddie hustles through getting his shit sorted out and then turns away politely while eddie has a silent desperate telepathic conversation with the rest of the boys, who roll their eyes and make their way over to the still open, still free bar.
where auburn hair is standing and talking to chrissy, putting a hand on chrissy’s arm while she laughs at something chrissy says.
hm, eddie thinks.
“so,” eddie says, walking out from under the tent with steve, down towards the water, awash in the moonlight. he holds out his cigarettes. “you like springsteen?”
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