#playlist fics

[bvttoneyes]

request where Benny Weir and the reader have a sleepover

"Me and You and You and Me Alone" ~ benny weir x reader

tw! suggestive humor

i can literally only think of this as hc's... enjoy!!

-definitely at his grandma's house. She would be chill abt it frl.

-she'd make you keep the door open though

-you brought so many face masks and plushies

-blasting music the whole time youre there

-gossiping with each other for like an hour

-i hc he gets really affectionate when he's tired

-so he will start hugging and kissing whenever he gets sleepy

-the jokes he made about this all day at school were foul. (js to you and ethan ofc)

-painting nails and doing makeup together

-making him do karaoke

-FACE MASKS WITH HIMMMM

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph!! Hope life is treating you well ❤️‍🩹 I'm a sucker for music playlist (love yours!) and i was wondering if you know fanfictions with playlist made for them.

Hi Nonny!!!!!

AHHHH Thank you!! I'm happy still have fans of the playlist (which, shameless promo, you can listen to on Spotify (not managed by me) or YouTube (my YouTube channel)!) and that you enjoy it!

Sadly life isn't treating me well, but I'm trying my best to make it through, LOL.

AHHHH what a great concept... severely miss my early fandom days when Song Fics were popular!!! UGGGH!!

One that I know FOR SURE has a Playlist of sorts is this fic:

Sunday Evening 6 p.m. by Silvergirl (E, 30,712 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF / TEH Divergence, Grief / Mourning / Stages of Grief, Mutual Pining, Dreams, Reunion, Love Confessions, First Kiss / Time, Alternating First Person POV, Smart John, BAMF Boys, Emotional Love Making, Song Fic, Referenced Suicide, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Sleepy Sherlock, Blow Job, Villain Mary) – Six months after Sherlock jumped, he learns that John is dedicating songs to him on a requests-only radio programme. Is John just working through grief? Or is he—communicating? Fixes the hell out of S3 by pre-empting it altogether. Remember, as TAB told us, John is Pretty Damn Smart.

====

AND HAPPILY, I think I can recommend my Song Fics (MFLs) list I made a while ago that you will enjoy as well! It has some suggestions from other Lovelies for fics based on songs, but I don't recall for sure if any of the others have a full playlist for them.

If you have a fic with a playlist, or are an author that has a playlist for their fic, PLEASE suggest it to us!!! I would love to add it!!!

[trashytracktales]

Drive me, clutch | LN⁴

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌none of my works are available for reposting on other platforms.

© trashy track tales, 2024

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── He should be worn out after the night he's had. But Lando is insatiable, and one night is not nearly enough. His need has only been stoked by a few hours of sleep, giving him an endless supply of energy that matches his intensity on the track.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, descriptive language, mature/sexual content, unprotected sex, established relationship, fluff & smutt, bit of praising, swearing & a down bad Lando.

𐙚 word count ──── 2.8k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 1, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I'm new on writerblr can y'all tell :')

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE MORNING LIGHT sneaks in through the curtains, creating a gentle glow and soft shadows all around the room.

He was always a deep sleeper, not easily disturbed by noise or movement. Over time, he conditioned himself to slip into catatonic slumbers, because in his line of work, it's vital to be fully rested. She, on the other hand, has always slept like a bunny, her ears picking up even the subtlest sound, amplified by the quiet of the morning.

With one arm stretched possessively over her waist and his face nestled into the curve of her neck, Lando is wrapping her like a second blanket, his warm breath fanning across her skin in steady, sleep-heavy sighs. His body radiates a deep warmth, a furnace that causes her to shift and almost run out of breath in the cocoon they've created.

It's way too hot.

She moves again, trying to get his arm off her waist while suppressing a quiet giggle when she realizes her attempts are futile — and that she made it all worse because now, Lando pulls her in, resting half of his body weight on her.

“Lan… ” she cries in a sleepy voice, lifting her hand to brush stray curls off his forehead. “Baby, you’re suffocating me,” she tries again, feeling Lando anchoring himself tighter around her waist.

His brows furrow in mild protest while he stirs slightly, as if he can already sense she's trying to get away. However, he gently presses his nose on her skin, muttering something incoherent in a sleepy, low voice. Even in his half-awake state, his thumb is making languid circles over her skin, just to remind himself that she's there, in his arms. There’s a spark in his touch, a warmth that seems to spread like wildfire, and she can feel it.

The girl decides to give it one more try, his name falling from her lips in a loving whisper.

“Mhm… ‘m heavy?” he asks.

She puffs out a chuckle, “A little, but the heat bothers me more.”

Lando lets out a soft chuckle, pushing the blanket off in a swift move, the air in the room immediately feeling cooler against their bare skin.

“Better?” his voice is a gritty, gravelly whisper that feels like sandpaper against her skin after being warmed by him.

The girl gasps in surprise, laughing at the sudden change in temperature, “Lando, we’re fucking naked. Put it back!”

“Oh, now you’re worried?” he asks, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her shoulder.

His eyes finally flutter open, sleepy yet filled with a familiar mischief. A lazy grin spreads across his face as he locks eyes with her, a quiet intensity lingering just beneath the surface. His fingers move along her body in a way that makes her shudder as his hand goes up her side. His gaze never leaves hers, glimmering with a glow of want and danger.

“Of course I am. We all get self-conscious in the daylight,” she admits, reaching for the blanket to put it back over them.

Lando stops her just in time, holding the velvety material out of the way. He leans over her on his forearms, loving how quickly she changed her mind just because she got shy from his intense staring session.

“I wanna see you.”

“No,” she protests, pullig him in, so his chest could cover hers.

“What do you mean no?” he chuckles. “I've had your thighs around my face last night, but now you're getting self-conscious?”

“It doesn't matter. I’m still shy,” she whispers.

The distance between them vanishes in an instant, his fingers running through her hair, while his lips are slightly brushing against hers, meaning to meet in a deep, tender kiss that is infused with the passion and hunger of the night before. But Lando has other plans. On one hand, he wants to kiss all the shyness away, to show her that there is nothing she should worry about, because she'll be beautiful in his eyes no matter what, day and night, and always.

On the other hand, he knows it's his job as a man and as her boyfriend to make her feel comfortable in her own body — a body that he worships with every chance he gets. He loves the constellations on her back, the softness of her legs, and the way she fits perfectly with him.

If he wouldn't know better, he'd say they were made for each other, in every aspect.

Lando watches her as she closes her eyes, knowing she's expecting him to kiss her. Instead, he chooses to study her face, closely, like he's never done it before, taking in every detail, from the tiny mole under her left eye and her rose lips that can do so much damage to him, to the marks he left over her neck and shoulders the night before.

Without thinking twice, he traces his finger over some of the darkened spots, taking in every part of her that he’s made his own — an artist admiring his own work.

“You’re mesmerizing.”

It's the last thing she expects him to say. Usually, he'd call her beautiful or breathtaking, but this time the compliment goes behind the surface. He knows he could look at her for hours, without getting bored. It means that, in the daylight, he is finally able to see something more profound.

She can’t help but let out a sigh in protest, but still smiles in return, “Shut up.”

“And all mine, yes?” he adds, letting his eyes slide down her bare chest, following each line and curve.

She nods, “You know it.”

It’s making him crazy — the way her body lays out under him, and the way he can clearly see the result of his need, desire and hunger on her skin. He’s speechless for a while, his mind filled with one lonely thought: her.

Her eyes snap open the moment she feels his hand gently squeezing one of her breasts, caressing her nipple with his thumb.

“Did I hurt you, baby?” he asks softly, pressing a finger into one of the hickeys that ended up looking like a little, weirdly shaped heart.

Her soft wince takes them both by surprise, a sudden wave of guilt washing over Lando at the thought that he could hurt her unintentionally.

“I’m fine,” the girl tries to assure him, but he frowns, already beating himself up for losing control like that.

He can't help it, though.

“I’m so sorry, I—”

“Don't,” she cuts him off, “You didn’t hurt me, I promise. Plus, I got you good, too,” she says, running the pads of her fingers over the crimson fingernail marks left on his shoulders.

He can hear the sweetness in her voice, all the guilt melting away in an instant. From there, Lando moves with an intensity and skill that is all too familiar — as if he were on the track, determined to put together the perfect lap.

He presses his lips on her silky skin, desperately wanting to soothe her. To continue to worship her. To thank her for existing and choosing him to share herself with.

“If it hurts later...” Lando begins, raising his head to look at his girlfriend.

Her hand glides up to cup his chin in her palm, “It'll be a reminder of how good you make me feel every single time,” she finishes his sentence, finally pulling him in for a kiss.

At the sound of her words, a low moan slips from his throat into her mouth, the simple affirmation enough to make Lando lose it. Her hands land on his shoulders, pulling him as close to her as possible. The eagerness is making him so desperate, wanting to feel the connection in every vital point of his body.

She wraps her legs around his waist, while Lando's hand travels up to hold the side of her neck, his tongue delving into her mouth into a messy kiss. Another moan escapes through her lips this time, the second she feels his hand slightly squeezing her.

As he deepens the kiss with a smile on his lips, she tries to speak, hardly able to form more words, her voice vanishing into a gentle moan.

This time, the race is different, and he is not in a haste to finish, enjoying every turn with an air of confidence that is unmistakably Lando. He seems to be able to read her so easily, even when she goes non-verbal, because it feels so good to have him on top.

With every touch and every inch of him, they fall into harmony. With each heartbeat and kiss, the low hum of energy between them intensifies until the world beyond their entwined bodies disappears into a fuzzy, faraway blur.

It's just them and the need to crawl under each other's skin.

His palm moves to cradle her face as he brings her closer, causing her to catch her breath and quiver. Her senses are sharpened, each gentle touch and soft sound more vivid than the previous, and she feels herself immersing herself in the present. In him. Entirely.

Lando feels her body arching up against his, a reflex reaction when he puts a little pressure between her legs. His tongue pushes deeper into her mouth, his hips rolling against hers, a low moan coming from the back of his throat.

“Your mouth…,” she exhales breathlessly, raising her hips to meet his halfway.

As a result of countless nights spent together, Lando gets the memo without her needing to elaborate. He became a pro at reading her body language like it's an open book, which makes him smirk, so proud he manages to understand her needs from a simple movement.

His lips are traveling south, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When she feels his hot breath hoovering above her thighs, her fingers find home in his hair, guiding Lando where she needs him most. His mind goes blank as soon as he feels her warmth, the taste of her flooding his senses.

He buries his face further, his tongue lapping at her intently, wanting to feel more of her. Much, much more. One of his hands moves down to her hips, anchoring them to the bed as he smiles at the sound of her soft whining — his favorite melody.

As soon as she starts to wiggle under his touch, his tongue begins circling, delving deeper than before. Her taste drives him wild while his mouth is making little wet noises against her.

“So sweet and warm f'me, aren't you?” he asks rhetorically, bringing his free hand between her thighs. “Fucking hell,” he lets out a breathy exhale, his thumb moving to rub against her clit, while two of his fingers push slowly inside.

She uses a hand to grip the sheets just as Lando pulls back a little, keeping his fingers thrusting in and out at an increasing pace that make her toes curl.

“Baby…,” she sucks in a breath, feeling the pressure building slowly, but surely.

“I know, baby,” he whispers, rolling back on top of her to muffle her moans with a furtive kiss. “You're so pretty, you know that? So pretty, taking my fingers so well.”

“Lando, please,” she whines, moving her hips in unison with his hand, trying to catch the wave that she's been chasing ever since she felt his tongue on her pussy.

Lando bites his lower lip in an attempt to hide his smile; he loves to see her losing herself like that only from his fingers.

“Mhm, you take what you need, yeah? Fuck my fingers, that's it.”

She arches against his hand harder, bringing her arms around Lando's neck for more stability. He lets his forehead drop on hers, their breaths blending together while she pants at his encouragements. Their lips come in contact once more, as Lando slows her down with the other hand on her hip, gripping her tightly to gently pull out his fingers.

The sudden emptiness forces her to let a cry out, her pussy clenching down hard on nothing.

“Don't piss me off,” she warns, wrapping her fingers around his neck, bringing his mouth to hers with the aggression of a needy woman that knows what she wants.

The kiss hits like a turbocharger at peak RPM, fast and powerful, leaving them breathless in its wake, their minds spinning wildly like they are racing against time.

“Need to be inside you,” he chuckles ar her eagerness, pumping himself in his hand a few times before rubbing the head of his cock over her needy core to spread the wetness.

The feeling leaves her almost breathless, her thighs wanting to press together instinctively, until Lando stops them with a firm grip.

He lets out a noisy moan into her neck, her body making him feel like he's sinking, the feeling of her walls squeezing him bringing up all the memories from last night. Lando buries his face in her chest, trying to steady himself, but it's a losing game.

He's already a goner.

“How are you always this tight around me, baby, fuck,” he pants, breathing wetly against her skin.

Every cell in her body feels like it's on fire, his words far from being registered in her head. Instead, she spreads her legs wider, making more room for him to fill her up completely, inch by inch.

“Shit, it feels so good. You feel so good, please,” she continues begging, because there's nothing else she can do. Except raising her hips to push back against his thrusts as he finally starts moving.

The sound of skin on skin reverberates around the quiet room, peppered with occasional whimpers and Lando's low moans. It's almost too much, but that doesn't stop her from meeting her boyfriend halfway. Quite the opposite. She's aware she's ruining the sheets with how wet she is, her pussy dripping with both their juices. But seeing the look on his face while he drives her it's enough to simply not care about the mess they're making.

“Fuck, that's it, baby. Like that,” he moans, gripping her thighs, partially to hit her with hard, long strokes, that he knows it drives her wild. But mostly because he needs something to hold on to.

Soon enough, Lando's breath starts coming out in quick, hot pants, his free hand clutching at the sheets by her head. His body is on fire, being able to feel her raw and see her face change with pleasure every time he hits her sweet spot. His eyes squeeze shut, the build-up almost too much for him to not lose it.

“Fuck, baby, you're killing me. Squeezing me so tight, I'm not. Gonna. Last,” he admits, accentuating the words with each hard thrust.

“Don't hold back, please. Please, don't stop…,” her words fade at the intensity of the warm knot that forms in her stomach, her legs tightening more around him.

“Yeah? You want to come, baby?” he asks, fucking his cock deeply into her, making her squeeze her eyes shut at the feeling, while her nails are slowly digging into his back.

She doesn't have time to feel bad for causing new scratches on top of his old ones as pleasure meets pain at its sweetest level. He's not bothered in the slightest, too preocupied to enjoy her, his focus on how every inch of his length gets hugged by her walls so tightly.

“I'm… Oh, yes! Fuck. I'm so close,” she moans, her mind going numb, letting her breath out in short spasms.

He hears the desperation in her voice, which makes him picking up the pace, bringing his hand between their bodies so he could rub her clit in a ferm, circular motion.

With that, it's enough for her to let out a string of moans as she comes hard around his cock. Her mind wanders through spaces filled with pure pleasure, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.

The sight of her drives him crazy, determined to reach his release while she still has that satisfied look on her face. Lando starts fucking her harder, pressing their bodies roughly into the mattress as he mumbles filthy words in her ear, that she's too dizzy to decipher.

“So fucking pretty when you come, my baby.”

His baby.

“Yours,” she agrees, her mouth parting slightly at the feeling of his hands roaming everywhere on her body.

She knows he's close, judging by the sloppy thrusts he's struggling to keep under control. But control is overrated, anyway. And it only takes a couple more until hot shots are spilling deep inside, filling her up.

“Fucking hell,” Lando exhales, collapsing on top of her, his cock throbbing against her walls, too sensitive to pull out right away.

She wraps her arms around her boyfriend, kissing his forehead, his cheek, and shoulder, their heavy breaths echoing throughout the bedroom.

He swallows hard, completely spent, running his arm up and down her side, while her hand ends up in his hair, pushing his curls out of the way so she could look at him.

“Should we go get coffee?” she asks matter-of-factly, her genuinely curious tone making Lando laugh.

“After I take you from behind?”

thank you for reading!

reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

[cloudcastor]

secret rendezvous

[nebuladreamz]

We're so fucking back chat

[bbb-bbbbbbb]

shoutout to gordons who are like cicada shells

realized that this is more accurate, but i like the red of the solo cup

[nadvs]

watch and learn (part two)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You’re at the library the next morning, enjoying how quiet campus is on a Saturday. You’re trying to focus on a discussion board you need to respond in, but your mind is elsewhere.

You can’t believe you agreed to Rafe’s idea. But you don’t regret it. He may be a jerk through and through, but he’s surprisingly a really good listener in bed.

You’re pretty sure he gave you the best orgasm you’ve ever had with someone. While it was an awkward challenge guiding him, you realized how liberating it was getting exactly what you wanted instead of quietly hoping the guy you were with knew what to do.

Your phone buzzes and lights up with a text. It’s 9:44 am and the notification is from Rafe.

Rafe: if you ever want practice sucking dick let me know

You flush and instinctually look around to make sure nobody in the barren library can see your screen. You reply: good morning to you too.

You take a second and send another message. The thought of going down on him rouses you. And, of course, the feedback will be helpful.

You: might take you up on that

Rafe: might?

You: might :)

Rafe is lying in bed, nursing a minor hangover. When he thinks about what happened on the other side of the wall in your room last night, he gets turned on all over again.

Feeling you cum around his fingers was fucking amazing. Knowing he did that to you, made you shake like that, was like an achievement. And he wants to keep doing it.

He texts you: we’re having a party on the beach today. bring friends

Rafe’s brand new to the frat, but he has already learned how important it is to invite as many people as he can to events. And if he’s being honest, he really wants to see you again.

You: only if you dont hit on them. i cant subject them to that

He feels his lips quirk up in a smile. When you don’t have a stick up your ass, you’re actually kind of entertaining.

Rafe: wtf why

You: you’re a fuckboy

Rafe: nahh you said i was amazing

You: i said the sex was amazing. and thats only because i told you what to do

Rafe: you can’t take all the credit

You: watch me

Rafe: you’re annoying

You: YOU’RE annoying

You: send me the address and time for the party

He quickly sends you the details.

This is the best idea he’s ever had. No strings attached sex with a hot girl who has zero interest in a relationship and can be brutally honest with him. He gets to fuck and improve his skills. It’s a dream.

Later that afternoon, Rafe watches the setting sun as he hangs out with a couple of his frat brothers in the sand. The party’s slowly starting to fill up, conversations growing in volume over the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

“We don’t host a lot of parties here,” Blake continues to explain to Rafe.

Blake’s a sophomore legacy and Rafe has slowly realized that he sort of looks up to him. He’s involved in the frat and seems to know everybody.

“It’s ‘cause it’s impossible to get people to pay cover, so we don’t even ask for it,” Blake says.

“No door to do it at,” Sam, another sophomore adds with a laugh. Blake looks back and shakes his head.

“Fun police is here,” he hollers. Rafe turns to see pacing towards the keg next to the same girl he saw you with last night.

His pulse quickens as he takes you in. Your shorts are barely covering anything. Damn.

You glare at Blake as you pick up a red solo cup.

“Kidding,” Blake says. “We were kinda being assholes the other night, weren’t we?”

Your lips twist into a small smile. Rafe isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t like you looking at Blake like that.

He didn’t mention to anyone that you two hooked up last night. No particular reason - it just didn’t come up. But clearly, he’ll have to fill the guys in later. They need to know you’re off limits.

“Thanks for admitting it,” you say, filling up your cup. “Why can’t you be my neighbor?”

You look over at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched. Him and that temper. Admittedly, you’re already kind of sexually frustrated over how good he looks in his tank top, his big biceps exposed.

“Life’s unfair,” Blake replies with a bigger grin. You return it. It makes Rafe’s blood run hot.

“I guess it is,” you say as your friend finishes filling up her cup.

You walk away and Rafe realizes he didn’t exchange a single word with you. The second you’re out of earshot, he leans towards his buddies.

“I’m hooking up with her,” he tells them.

“Your neighbor?” Sam laughs. “Cap. That chick hates you.”

Rafe almost tells him not to call you a chick because of your advice last night. Wow. He really is learning from you.

“Didn’t hate me last night.” He takes a sip of his beer.

“Wait, for real?” Blake asks.

“Yeah.” Rafe loves the confidence high he’s riding right now.

“How was it?” Blake asks.

Rafe decides to lie. Painting it as a boring experience will make his buddies lose any interest they might have in you.

“Fine,” he says casually. Yeah, right. It was incredible.

Rafe watches Blake turn, surely to check you out.

“She’s cute,” Blake mumbles.

“Bro code, man,” Sam says, slapping his friend’s chest. Rafe is kind of relieved he said that.

“Shit, my bad,” Blake says with a chuckle, looking at Rafe. “You like her?”

“Oh - no,” Rafe laughs. “No.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I talked to her, right?” Blake says it as more of a statement than a question.

Rafe realizes he shouldn’t care. This whole arrangement is so both of you can get better at sex with other people. He doesn’t know what got into him thinking you owed him loyalty. His impulse to be possessive serves no purpose here.

“Go for it,” Rafe says.

Dusk falls as you stand in a crowd with Liv, your feet sunken into the sand as you drink and chat.

You told her about your arrangement with Rafe and were surprised to hear how jealous she was, mentioning how rare it is to find a guy who cares about giving his girl an orgasm.

You had to clarify to her it’s because Rafe’s ego needs all the stroking it can get, especially in the bedroom. And that you are not his girl.

You know it’s a crazy situation to be in with someone, but it’s worth it. You’ll learn what you can from him, and he’ll do the same with you, and then you’ll use what you picked up with people you actually like.

As the night goes on, the crowd gets bigger and closer together. It’s dark at this point, the moon covered with clouds.

Rafe’s been looking at you all night, at your bare legs, thinking about how he had his mouth between them last night.

You feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. When you pull it out, you see a text from Rafe: you ever fucked in a car? or are you too scared lol

You look up to meet his gaze from eight feet away at most, shaking your head in incredulity as he smirks at you.

The abruptness of his message, the promise of doing something so outside your comfort zone, is thrilling. But still, you just have to mess with him.

You reply: too scared :( no thanks

You laugh at the way Rafe’s face contorts at his phone. He looks up at you.

You text again: jk let’s go

He flashes his middle finger to you and you return the gesture. He then cocks his head behind him to signal you to follow.

“Tip for you,” you say when you approach him, walking away from the crowd together. “Don’t flip off a girl you’re trying to fuck.”

“Is that not good foreplay?” Rafe asks with a smirk.

“Aw, did I teach you that word?” you say.

“I knew it before.”

“Sure,” you say. “Just like you knew that girls fake it.”

“You’re annoying,” he groans, amusement in his tone.

“You’re annoying” you say, echoing your text conversation from earlier. You playfully shove his shoulder. He hardly budges.

You approach the parking lot and Rafe pulls out keys to remotely unlock his car.

“Get in,” he says, stopping in front of a large black SUV and opening the right backseat door. You notice the luxury brand immediately.

“This is your car?”

“Got a motorcycle, too,” he replies smugly.

“It makes so much sense now.”

“What?”

“You’re rich,” you realize. Rafe shrugs in such a pompous way.

“And?”

“That’s why you’re so…” you begin. What’s the right word? Entitled? Arrogant? Shameless? “You.”

Rafe scoffs at you, unsure of how to take the comment and unsure if he should even care as you settle in his car. He ambles in behind you, settling on the leather seat and shutting the door.

You don’t feel shy to initiate like you did last night. You straddle him, immediately locking lips, feeling him freeze in what you think is surprise before his hands drag over your hips.

Rafe really wants to grab your ass but he remembers you telling him he shouldn’t jump right to groping.

He tastes like beer and he smells like cologne as you deepen the kiss, weaving your lips together. He dips his tongue into your mouth and your noses nudge together, wet lips smacking in his dark, quiet car.

He shuffles under you, the leather squeaking, allowing you to feel his hard-on between your legs, his hands finally wandering over your ass and gripping hard. Lust burns in your stomach.

Your mind drifts back to what he texted you this morning. You’ve been thinking about it all day. You sit back, unable to see much of Rafe in the darkness, but enough to see that his eyes are half-closed, drunk off the feeling.

“I wanna practice…” you say, stroking him over his shorts. “You know.”

“Say it,” Rafe coaches, his dimples caving into his cheeks. You roll your eyes. Right. This is why you’re doing this. To stop being so reserved.

“Sucking dick,” you finally say. Hearing and watching you as your words spill out of your mouth makes his skin prickle with excitement.

“My turn to teach you, huh?” Rafe’s voice is deep and husky, dripping with desire. You nod, your bottom lip trapped beneath your teeth as you continue to stroke him.

“Should I keep doing this?” you ask, palming him.

“You got it, baby,” he rasps lazily. “Touch it before you put it in your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you half-chuckle. Rafe smirks. He knows you love his dirty talk.

“You can talk, too,” he encourages. “Try it.”

You twist your lips in apprehension, but push yourself past your comfort zone.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day,” you admit, goosebumps blooming across your skin. “About how your cock is gonna feel down my throat.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, his hands gripping your ass tighter. How’d he get so lucky to be here right now? “That’s good.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, gratified. You unbutton his shorts and pull down his zipper.

“You liked the way it felt inside you last night, didn’t you?” he asks. He shifts to give you the space to pull down his shorts and boxers.

You watch him shut his eyes in pleasure as you wrap your bare hand around him, no fabric in the way anymore.

“I loved it,” you whisper, giving into the impulse to kiss him again. When your thumb rubs over the bead of warm precum on the head of his cock, he bites your bottom lip.

You move to position your head at his groin, your knees on the carpeted floor of his car. You lean forward, slowly putting your lips around the tip, feeling just how wet your panties are when you taste him.

“Shit,” he shudders. You slightly raise your head to dribble spit onto his thick cock, bringing your hand up to rub the moisture over his length.

“Sit up,” Rafe says. “I wanna watch you spit on it again.”

You straighten and the sight of your line of saliva dropping from your mouth to his dick makes Rafe feel like he might go crazy.

His cock is slick now, your hand sliding up and down it easily.

“Should I use both hands?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he huffs. You nod, both your palms rubbing over his girth, cupping and twisting.

He’s about to tell you to start using your mouth, but you drop a hand, leaving the other at his base, and take him in.

Your hot, wet mouth feels unbelievable. You start to suck and slide over him nicely, leaning up and down.

“Squeeze harder,” he instructs, and you nod with his cock still in your mouth, your hold stiffening at his base. You’d assume gripping this tight would hurt, but this is why you’re doing this with him. To learn.

You take a little more of him with every dip of your head, lips locked as spit dribbles down your chin. The sound of your slurping is fucking amazing to him. Your tongue twists and curls as you move.

“Keep using your tongue like that,” Rafe says to you, his words whispered and rushed. “And take as much of my cock as you can. Try to take all of it.”

You nod again, pushing down, gagging but reaching all of him, your nose touching his toned stomach.

“Fuck, yes,” he moans. “Good fucking girl.”

The praise makes you stir with enticement as you pull back, then take all of his length again, flicking your tongue.

“Just like that,” Rafe grunts, his voice hoarse. “Look at me.”

You meet his eyes in the shadowed car, his chest heaving. Rafe might just lose his mind at the way you look with your mouth stuffed with his cock. He reminds himself this is supposed to be instructional.

“Guys love this shit, okay?” he says. “When you look up like that.”

You pull back, making him watch his cock slowly get uncovered as you pop off of him.

“Is it wet enough?” you ask.

“Yeah, baby, you’re doing a good job,” he replies. You nod and sink onto him again, starting to move faster, moving your hand in sync with your mouth.

“Hold my balls,” he tells you. “Not too tight.”

You obey, cupping the soft flesh with one hand while the other remains wrapped around his cock. You squeeze gently, massaging his balls and earning a deep groan from him.

Wow. You really are learning a lot from him.

Rafe feels his stomach tighten. He’s close.

“You gonna swallow?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, muffled and vibrating over his cock. You never have before, but you really want to impress Rafe and do this right.

He starts to shake, his voice reduced to a whimper. You feel him get even harder, then shudder.

His hot cum hits the back of your throat in one hard splash, trailed by short spurts. He moans his way through his orgasm, his load heavy.

You take it all, making him smile as he looks down at you, panting.

“That was… fuck…” Rafe huffs, titling his head back, his jawline sharp.

It’s pretty gratifying seeing such a big, loud, arrogant man reduced to this tired, heaving mess. He rakes a hand through his hair as you shift to sit next to him.

“A-plus?” you ask. You’re expecting him to tease you but he nods.

“Fuck yeah,” he laughs. “Give me a few minutes. I want you to show me how to make you cum on my dick.”

Nerves suddenly bubble in your stomach. Even after what you just did, the thought of fucking him in here makes you feel on edge.

“Let’s do that another night,” you say, adjusting your top.

“What? Why?” he asks. He looks at you, lips still parted as he breathes heavily.

“We could get caught.”

“The windows are tinted,” Rafe tells you. “Nobody knows we’re even in here.”

You look away, which by now, he has learned means you’re embarrassed.

“Holy shit, why do you get so nervous all of a sudden?” he laughs. “Do you feel bad for liking sex or something?”

You swallow hard. You never thought about it but... maybe he’s right. There always is a little bit of shame attached to every hook-up you have.

He called you out on your lack of confidence last night. Here he is, doing it again.

Rafe doesn’t understand how a girl can be so sure of herself one minute, then ashamed the next.

“Relax,” he says. “Don’t think. Just answer, understand?”

“Okay,” you say.

“Do you want to fuck?”

You nod.

“Say it.”

“Yeah, I do,” you relent.

“Then take your clothes off.”

(part three)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

Despite everything... is it still you?

(more Dark Matter art for y'all. This fic is once again living in my brain rent free. @mysterycyclone)

[geneticdriftwood]

persephone's in hell; a rooftop conversation

for @mysterycitrus

persephone's in hell, @mysterycitrus // white winter hymnal, fleet foxes // assorted dc comics

[fanaticsnail]

Remember Me

This was requested by @aishabbbb, which I linked back to here for the full description of the prompt.

Word Count: 6,600+

Masterlist Here

Echoes of gruff laughter lingered in the air as tankards of ale clanged against one another. It had been a while since the Red-Hair Pirates had made port and as they viewed a rowdy port full of lively music, contagious laughter and bursting at the seams with a variety of pleasurable company; they could not resist.

This port had been known for some time to be a lawless town, accepting of any journeymen as they resupplied their vessels, sailors selling their wares and even the odd Marine here or there had graced the town with their presence. The World Government paid no mind to the comings or goings, knowing should the port be shut down; their supply of rum would slowly dwindle away.

The Captain of the Red-Hair Pirates sat upon a stool at the rear of the room as he stared into the bottom of his tankard, watching the amber liquid slosh from side to side. He withdrew into himself; his former joy and carefree attitude no longer present on his features this night.

A woman with a painted face sauntered over towards the captain, swaying her hips as she overemphasized her intentions.

“Care for some company, sweetheart?” she asked him in a sultry tone as she took his hand in hers that still clasped the tankard. He made eye contact and smiled from the corner of his mouth before withdrawing the hand from her grip and drew his drinking vessel to his mouth.

“Not today, love,” he said, taking a drink from his tankard, “but I can point you in the direction of someone who would be more than happy to share your time.”

She smiled as Shanks gestured to his senior officer, who had a black bandana featuring a white jolly roger insignia atop his lengthy blonde hair. His expression was one of a displeasing grimace, black glasses concealing more of his irritation behind them.

“See if you can bring a smile to his face, would you?” he laughed slightly as she nodded as she made her way to her next target.

Plonking two fresh pints down on the table before him, Benn Beckman sighed as he sat on a stool facing his Captain; taking one of the pints and gesturing for Shanks to do the same.

“You turned her away?” Beckman questioned his Captain, “I thought you’d enjoy a pretty blonde giving you attention this time.”

“I’m not as open today as I have been any other day to the company of a painted lady,” Shanks laughed in response raising his pint and clanging it against his First-Mate’s, “or any other man or woman you’ve since such sent my way. You know this.”

“Oh,” Beckman uttered, eyes widening before looking down at the table, “I didn’t realise it was today. Sorry Cap’n.”

“Don’t apologise, Beckman,” he smiled at him before drinking from the tankard. He moaned slightly as the cool, bubbling liquid hit his lips and he tasted the bitter flavour of the hoppy amber ale.

“How long has it been since-?” Beckman began, halting his words in search for the more appropriate way of phrasing it.

“How long has it been since my bride was claimed at sea?” Shanks offered to complete his First-Mate’s sentence. Beckman nodded in response, gesturing with his pint for Shanks to offer his answer.

Shanks sighed and leant back in his stool, his back thumping against the small railing at the back.

“This day marks ten years,” he added with a sad smile. A silence fell between them as they reminisced the day the Captain of the Red-Hair Pirate’s wife was lost to him.

After a brief pause, they commenced their drinking as they surveyed the movements of the patrons and crew interacting with one another.

Beckman raised his tankard to his lips and begin to gulp with gusto at the frothing liquid. He trailed his eyes throughout the bar as he did so; looking to Limejuice as he grit his teeth tightly at the blonde woman’s incessant and unrelenting flirtation was thrust upon him.

He continued his assessment of the room before his attention was caught by a group of sailors laughing amongst each other, a woman throwing her had back at the joke uttered by one among them. Benn Beckman spluttered into his tankard, coughing as the amber ale entered into his wind pipe and corrupted his lungs with it. He continued to draw in his breaths while maintaining visual contact on the situation unfolding before him.

“Benn,” Shanks addressed his choking crewman, “you alright?”

The First-Mate continued coughing and spluttering, managing to relieve his lungs of the bitter substance and gasping in a long breath. His pigment all but fled from his face as he continued staring blankly at the bar in horror.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Shanks laughed, placing his tankard down on the table before clapping a hand against the upper arm of Beckman’s shoulder.

“I-I think I have,” Beckman stuttered slightly before bringing his attention to his captain, “look to the bar and tell me if you can see her too, Captain.”

Shanks furrowed his brows in confusion, laughing lightly at the confession of his crewman before turning and immediately having the playful expression pulled from his lips.

“You see her?” Beckman asked him in a voice just above a whisper.

The Captain wordlessly rose to his feet, almost toppling the stool over in the process as he made his way to approach the woman. His bride, his queen. His whole world was carelessly and unaware of his presence as the melodical laugh fell from her lips; a sound Shanks never thought he would once again experience.

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

You tapped the chest of the older sailor in front of you as you continued to laugh at his joke.

“Harold,” you gasped, wiping a tear from your eye, “and that’s the reason you only have three toes on your left foot?”

“Honest to goodness, lass,” he continued to rumble laughter, his eyes twinkling with utter mischievousness, “the bloody crab nearly carved the whole lot off, if not for my quick thinking!”

He imitated the pinching movements of a crab’s claw and crooked his head to make himself look as crab-like as he could, prompting another roar of laughter to erupt between the sailors and yourself.

“Alright, I’ll get you that drink then,” you teetered your laughter and turned to address the bartender you had come to know, “Mary, give us a couple schooners of ale- the pale stuff if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Right you are, my love,” she acknowledged your order and began pouring the foamed liquid into two smaller cups.

It had been ten years since you found yourself lying upon the shore with no recollection of who or what you were before your arrival. Thankfully enough, your body was strong. You knew how to hold your own when it came to unwarranted and unreciprocated attention, often brawling with men to assert yourself among them.

As you needed a job to afford food, you managed to bully Captain Harold of the Angelfish Shepherds Fishing Crew and would accompany them out to sea, bringing in several catches a day and selling their many items throughout town. It was only when the sun would disappear behind the horizon, you would come home to the tavern: "Mary’s Resting Track" and make yourself comfortable with your crew at the bar; drinking well into the night.

Just as Mary had finished pouring from the keg, you felt an arm placed upon your left shoulder, prompting you to turn to face it's source.

“My bride,” a tall, red-headed man gasped in a voice above a whisper as he drew you in to place his lips against yours. You squealed at the tender impact, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth at the sudden softness and passion you felt from the unknown man. You pushed on his chest slightly before creasing your brows in confusion.

“Steady on, Sailor. Save it for your wife,” you laughed at him, collecting the two schooners from the bar and placing one into the hands of Captain Harold, “or at least buy me a drink first!”

You laughed, prompting your crew to do the same as they raised their glasses and took a drink. You rose yours to your lips and drank from it, keeping playful eye contact with the sailor before you.

He was handsome, his red hair immediately drawing you in. He had a black cloak shrouding his left arm from view and a three-point claw mark over his left eye. His face held a shocked, sobering expression on it as if he was staring at something extra-terrestrial in make.

“Y-You,” he stuttered out, “Y-You’re.”

The words caught in his throat as he again reached his right hand up to attempt to secure a fallen strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. You swatted his hand away from completing the action.

“No,” you said firmly, playfulness leaving your face as your eyebrows collected themselves with a frown, “no one touches my hair. It’s out of bounds to even those who know me, and know me; you do not.”

You swiped his arm away fully away from your face while keeping a warning, reprimanding look on your features. He continued to stare at you, his eyes swelling slightly as they fluttered between your own; pleading with you and searching within them for a small shroud of recognition.

“She’s saving it for her beloved,” your crewman mocked you in a high-pitched tone, bringing humour once again to the room. You laughed at his jest, prompting you to turn away from the red head to scold his imitation.

“I don’t sound like that,” you laughed at him, prompting your crewman to again mock you by wobbling his head from side to side and scrunching up his face.

You turned back around to see the man again gazing with a fierce intensity born deeply into your eyes and managed this time to tuck a strand of your hair behind your left ear with his right hand. At this, you brought your own hand firmly up and struck the side of his face, all humour once again leaving you.

At the crisp strike, chaos erupted at the bar. A crew of pirates drew their pistols, pointing it towards you; while your crew of sailors pulled their own from their belt and aimed it at them in response. You kept your eyes completely fixed on the red-haired pirate as his face continued to hold a yearning expression.

“She gave you a warning, Sailor,” your Captain spat at him, “I don’t care how much ale you consumed, you respect the wishes of a lady.”

This seemed to shatter whatever illusion was held on the redhead in front of you as he looked to the assortment of pirates behind him. He held up his hands in defence of himself, taking a step back from his proximity near you and nodding his head in a deep bow.

“Easy, lads,” he smiled, “put them away. We don’t bring out our guns at one little slap.”

The crew focussed their attention on you as you shook your head and creased your brows at his address. He again turned to you, and bowed his head slightly deeper as an apology.

“You’ll have to excuse me, miss,” he uttered, “I didn’t mean to cross your boundary. It was reactionary, and for that I offer my most sincere apologies.”

Your gaze softened at his words as you gently used your pointer finger to raise his chin to look at you once more.

“Apology accepted on the condition of buying me and my friends a round of drinks,” you scrunched your nose with a small wink. He laughed at your remark, shaking his head and smiling once more.

“I would have to agree, miss. Definitely the next one on me,” he continued to gaze into your eyes as you withdrew your finger from his chin and tapped his nose with it playfully.

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

You didn’t remember him. That must be the only reason you didn’t hoist yourself into his single arm and cling yourself against him. Why you didn’t lean into the kiss and allow him to lace his hand into your hair and relieve your face from it shrouding your vision. The act so intimately solidifying your relationship in the early days, holding onto it as you spoke your wedding vows.

No-one was to ever touch your hair apart from yourself and your beloved were the words you spoke while dressed in your white, lace dress aboard the Red Force; Beckman performing the ceremony all those years ago.

You were married in your youth, relationship blossoming from friendship to something more on the Oro Jackson under the watchful gaze of Gol D. Roger. The subtle glances turned into subtle touches, turning into kisses stolen from within the hidden halls of the Oro Jackson as you would press each other against the walls and roam your hands along your bodies.

He was obsessed with your hair, and with each caress, each embrace, he would find himself absent-mindedly playing with it. You vowed alongside your commitment in matrimony that only he and he alone would be allowed to tuck your hair behind your ear in adoration; and you be the only one permitted to place a kiss atop the crown of his head.

Shanks had to contain himself as his soul screamed within the chasms of his chest to embrace you, to hold you against him and cry out in joy at your return. He didn’t touch another woman in the ten long years it had been since your last departure; the notion turning to ash in his mouth at the mere suggestion. It had only been until recently that Beckman prompted him to seek out someone to relieve his tension, but he felt it would’ve been an insult to the beautiful memories you shared with one another.

You were even in the process of early conversations on what starting a family would look like aboard the Red Force with his assortment of rowdy crew.

You would bicker at having the ship make birth permanently at a port, returning every two weeks to the solid shore as Shanks refused to halt his travels. He wanted you and the children aboard, rearing them alongside his crew; an idea you immediately shot down as you understood infants waking and crying at every interval and the disruption would not be fair to bring to the crew.

Shanks remembered Beckman adding to that conversation with: “We’re already getting sleepless nights from the sounds echoing the halls originating at your quarters!”

He chuckled at the memory before he remembered the fear on your face as the storm threw you overboard in your attempt to raise the sheet from the topmast and secure it in place. The black sky and torrential winds making it impossible to see your form as you struggled against the waves. He didn’t see what happened, only noticing your departure once they successfully made it through the storm and into the central eye of it.

The roar-like scream rumbling throughout the chest of the Red-Haired Captain still reverberating within the ears and memories of the entire crew as they recollect it every year. The pain shared amongst them as their captain bore his grief openly; drowning in rum every night before Beckman pulled him out of his rut with the reprimand: “this is not what she would have wanted.”

It mattered not what happened to him from that point. The pain of loosing you was far greater than any earthly injury could bring forth. He didn’t even bat an eye as his arm was claimed by a great Sea-Beast; consuming his flesh within it’s belly. He was more upset by the fact his golden wedding band perished at its disappearance.

And here you were, not a scratch upon you; laughing as if you had not a care in the world.

You had no memory. That was the only explanation Shanks had as he gazed lovingly at you, drinking your free ale at his expense.

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

You shook your head at a comment made by one of your crewmen as they suggested to hold a drinking competition between the red-haired pirate’s crew and your own.

“I don’t think I have enough booze in the house for that,” Mary laughed from behind the bar.

You smiled at her comment, turning back around to see the far off look in the red-head’s eyes.

“You know,” you nudged him with your shoulder, bringing his attention back towards you, “for someone that leads in lips first, you’re awfully quiet.”

He chuckled at your comment, expression softening but with a hidden depth you couldn’t quite understand.

“I’m not usually like this,” he scrunched his nose up with a smile.

“Rough time at sea, then?” you asked him, gesturing to Mary with two fingers to indicate your intentions of purchasing the next round for you and the red-head.

“Not particularly, its just-,” his words trailed off, prompting you to gaze your eyes; flittering them between his own two deep brown orbs before he took a deep breath and looked forward at his crew interacting with your own.

“You gestured for the good stuff, right?” she asked, placing two short, round glasses down on the counter; spiced rum swishing in the base as she did so.

“That I did, love,” you replied, placing down your berry on the counter and taking the glasses from it. You went to place the glass into the red-head Captain’s hands, noticing it was already occupied with a half-drunk tankard of ale.

“You keen on a rum?” you asked him, bringing his gaze up. He gasped out a quick hum, raising the tankard and downing the remainder of his ale with haste and placing the empty vessel atop the bar. He rose his hand to accept your offer and his fingers brushed against your own as he claimed the drink from your hand.

He looked down to your collar bone and noticed a single gold ring hung from a piece of fine leather around it. He furrowed his brows at it as to inspect it from his great distance.

“The gold band around your neck,” he gestured down to your left hand, “are you married?”

“Not to my knowledge, Sailor,” you laughed at him, “I was found with it.”

You sipped at the rum and creased your brows as the heavy alcohol entered your system.

“I apologise for slapping you,” you uttered, “I, uh. I made a promise, you see. I don’t really know what about or to whom, truthfully.”

He hummed at your comment, fixing his eyes on your face as you spoke. He trailed his eyes over your body, looking at you with an expression completely unreadable. Somewhere between: bewildered, surprised, great sorrow, relief, curiosity and apprehension.

“I don’t actually have a lot of that – knowledge, I mean,” you reiterated with a smile, “For the better part of ten years, I’ve been building back what I think I used to be like. I have no idea, though. I could’ve been some prissy young lass with a string of twelve children; or some standoffish, uptight cow-.”

“-You were never like that,” the red-head interrupted you, prompting you to snap your gaze up to meet with his.

“Do you know me, Sailor?” you asked him, your brows creasing together.

“Shanks,” he corrected you, “my name is Shanks.”

“Alright, Shanks,” you corrected yourself, “Do you know me?”

He sighed, drinking a small amount of liquid from his glass and looking to the rowdy crowd as their boisterous laughter echoed throughout the walls.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m going to need two things,” he said, downing the remainder of alcohol from his glass in one quick swell, “another drink, preferably a bottle this time.”

You laughed at him, before asking; “and the other thing?”

“Privacy,” he uttered with a small hint of sadness. You expressed concern within your eyes before patting him on the back and rubbing small circles in comfort to him.

You weren’t sure why you brought your hand up to comfort him, it seemed almost reactionary. A natural instinct of familiarity; organic.

“Alright, Shanks,” you began, making eye contact with Mary once more, “I’ll buy you a bottle under one condition.”

“And what might that be?” he chuckled warmly.

“That you give me a small glint of information before we proceed to the beach,” Mary placed the bottle on the counter and you placed down more berry in response, “I need to know if you are threatening me with a good time, or if you plan on executing me to reclaim some debt.”

“Were we enemies?” you asked him, bearing your gaze at the wall behind the bar.

“Sometimes,” Shanks shrugged his shoulders, prompting you to snap your gaze back to his. He erupted a full belly laugh from his diaphragm at your reaction. He let out a deep sigh before he suggested; “let’s make to the beach and I’ll fill you in.”

Mary smiled, looking between the two of you before the beckoning of Captain Harold and several bottles of the cheapest rum called her from her place before you.

You nodded, neglecting to collect glassware while you grasped the neck of the bottle; not once removing your eyes from the red-head next to you.

You made your way down towards the beach, walking in step with Captain Shanks, as the crew bid him goodnight. You noticed several members of his crew gawked at you as if they had seen a phantom or something of the make.

Once gazing into the open sea, the Captain plonked himself unceremoniously on the sand, legs spread wide as he sat with his knees bent upwards. You smiled at him before crouching down to sit beside him, uncorking the fresh rum bottle in your hands and offering it to him. He smiled as he took it from your grasp and brought it to his lips.

You trailed your eyes over his form, trying to conjure a whisp of memory from the recesses of your mind. After having no image return to you, you rose up your voice.

“So-,” you began, only to be cut off my Shanks.

“You were – are,” he started to relay, laughing at the fact he spoke over you. You nodded to him to continue.

He paused, sighing before again voicing what he was attempting to confess to you.

“It’s been ten years to the day since I lost you,” he sighed, looking down to the sand near his knees, “and not a day went by that my thoughts were not drawn to you.”

You looked at him, puzzled at what he was telling you.

“Your gold band,” he gestured with his hand towards your neck grasping the bottle, keeping his eyes fixed on the sand below him, “was gifted to us by our former Captain we served under: Gol D. Roger. He had a lot of love for you and I.”

“The King of the Pirates?” you asked him, eyes wide before adding, “and us. What do you mean, us?”

He sighed again, this time bringing his head to slouch back as he gazed at the dark and cloudless sky above you.

“I can’t tell you what happened right now. It’s-,” he paused between the words, prompting you to inch forward and look at his face. He turned his face away from you as you attempted to gaze into his eyes; “-it’s too painful today.”

You frowned and instead reached down to the hand placed upon his hand, and swiftly reclaimed the rum bottle from within his grip. He turned his head towards you at this and trailed his eyes up to yours as you placed the lip of the bottle and downed two large gulps of the liquid. You squeezed your eyes as the strong alcohol burned its way down your throat and into the pit of your belly.

He laughed at your actions, finally the forlorn expression eclipsed by glee.

“You haven’t changed,” he uttered, reaching his hand up to your hair before recoiling it back again. You watched him do this, as processing the boundary you expressed earlier still lingered within his thoughts. Instead of reaching your hair with his hand, he fell his grasp to your hands as they held the rum bottle.

“Is there truly nothing you remember of me?” He asked you, looking down to where his single hand rested upon your own. You furrow your brows and search your mind through closed eyes, willing yourself to remember any aspect about him. You hissed out a growl in frustration as you found no recollection.

“I want to,” you whispered to him, “you seem a decent kind of man, if not a little forward with the kiss and all.”

He chuckled at your comment, his laughter building to a rumble. His shoulders began to quake lightly as his laughter died and morphed into soft sobs. He attempted to conceal them from you by raising his hand up from where it rested atop his knee and turned to face away from you. You were overwhelmed slightly by this man becoming wrecked with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, bringing yourself to rest on your knees as you pulled yourself closer to him.

You opened your arms and shimmied your legs forward, hoisting them over his bent knees and found a comfortable spot on the sand to rest between them. Your arms circled his shoulders as you felt his right arm wrap beneath your waist and hook up your spine. He held his face flush with your stomach and squeezed his hand to grasp at your body as if you were to slip away at any moment. You felt his shoulders begin to relax into your embrace while inhaling your scent. You looked down the top of his head before absentmindedly bringing your lips down to place a chaste kiss against his hair. He flinched slightly at this impact, tension building in his shoulders before he slumped them forward.

You heard him sigh into your diaphragm as you did so, bringing his face away from its hidden position against you and resting his chin atop your chest to bring his sights to look up at you. For some reason, this man as he held you in an intimate proximity did not have you thrusting him away from your with excessive force as you did with so many others.

You unwrapped your left hand from around his shoulders and set it against his cheek. His youthful smile returning as you caressed him. You warmly smiled in response, feeling the gruff of his stubble against the palm of your hand before he turned his head and placed a brief kiss atop your inner hand.

“I am willing to dedicate the rest of my life to getting you to fall in love with me once again,” he whispered against your hand before turning his head to meet your gaze, “this I swear.”

Your eyes widened at the comment with a small smile toying at your mouth.

“I gather my undying devotion is overwhelming for you,” he chuckled, prompting you to move your hand away from his face and place both hands atop his shoulders.

“It is, to be perfectly candid with you,” you giggled at him, smoothing your arms over his shoulders and tracing circles against them with your thumbs, “I have tried everything to bring a small fragment of the person I once was to the forefront of my being.”

He trailed his hand from its place at the small of your back and rested it atop your left hip, grasping it firmly within his palm and kneading the flesh beneath it.

You brought your attention to the gold ring on your leather necklace as you held onto his shoulder, narrowing your eyes at the metal slightly; pleading within your own mind to bring forth any memory of the man cradling himself against you.

“To put myself in your hideous sandals,” you uttered, prompting him to quirk his head slightly to the side, “you found me, and it’s almost as if you did so only to lose me again.”

“Aye, it is,” he nodded, looking down again and meeting his eyes with the flesh of your forearm. He ghosted his lips over your left arm, dragging it higher within the crook of your elbow. Your hair follicles stood on edge under his ministrations, as he continued to not kiss your skin; but rather feel the way your body tasted below his lips.

“And you looked lovely in my highly practical sandals, last time you wore them,” he smirked his lips against your flesh before placing a kiss against it. He trailed kisses varying in intensity back down your forearm and against your wrist, prompting your breath to hitch in your throat.

That comment was it. After a variety of interpersonal and intimate words shared regarding your prior relationship with the man beneath you; it was the ugly sandals that brought a flitter of memory to grace behind your eyes. Any other comment; the hand in your hair from earlier, the wedding ring gifted by Gol D. Roger before he was executed, anything else; it was the ugly sandals he found in the run of the mill town that he purchased and, much to your horror, wore in public.

You remember taking them from his room and fleeing above deck with them in an attempt to throw them overboard to rid yourself of their ugliness forever, only to have your waist caught by your husband as he twirled you around to face the deck again with playful reprimand in the process of doing so.

At the request of your husband, you placed them on your feet and experienced the absolute comfort they bore you; almost shrieking in disgust at yourself for relishing in the feeling; as he belly-laughed at you.

“We’ll get you some at the next port” you heard his voice within your mind, “then we can be matching.”

You remembered him wiggling his eyebrows, prompting you to place your closed fist against his chest and tap him slightly.

“We can even get tiny little ones for when you relent and let me put a child in you,” you remembered his tone, causing a blush to rise presently to your cheeks.

“Something the matter, love?” Shanks' voice brought you from your singular memory and back into the present moment you were sharing so intimately with your husband.

No other memory sprang forward, only a few whispers of certain smells: sea water, spiced rum and stagnant drinking water with the natural smell men aboard a boat. You circled your arms around his shoulders and again pressed him against yourself, smothering his face against your sternum between your breasts. Your mouth fell slack as you pressed your face into his hair and inhaled the aroma of the fragrance he favoured to utilise in his red locks: sandalwood and ginger prominent with his natural scent lingering beneath it.

You began to feel a rough flurry of taps from the man beneath you as he indicated for you to release him. His laughter was unrestrained as his eyes twinkled with mischievousness.

“As happy as I am to once again have my face pressed between your breasts,” he heaved his laughter, “I do require air to sustain me.”

He brought his eyes to meet yours as you stared your eyes on the crashing waves of the beach as the tide began to come in further. Your eyes remained wide as you continued to will a semblance of recollection to come to you.

Once you offered no rebuttal at his comment, he again reached his hand up towards your hair only to halt it once more.

“What is it?” he asked you, now placing his right hand atop your left arm, holding it lovingly.

“I-,” you began, the words now halting between your lips. You brought your eyes down to look down and you continued to flitter them between each of his own.

“I-,” you again said, leaning in closer to him; prompting him to have a sense of seriousness overcome his features, “-will never own a pair of those ugly sandals.”

Immediately his seriousness fell away and his face split into a wide grin as his laughter rumbled within his chest one more.

“Yes, you always hated them. I think they’re wonderful,” he gasped while stifling his laughter. You continued to hold his shoulders as his laughter teetered off into a dull rumble.

“I tried to throw them overboard,” you uttered almost inaudibly, “and you threatened me with buying more of them.”

“You remember,” he gasped out a breathy sigh, “you remember me.”

He brought his torso up further to bring your foreheads to rest against each other. He nuzzled your nose slightly at the impact and squeezed his eyes shut with delight. He began to lean in to graze your lips with his, only to be halted by your gentle touch to bring him back.

“I don’t remember anything else aside from your disgusting sandals,” you whispered, closing your eyes before reopening them again and looking at him half-lidded, “and the way you looked at me when you suggested we begin trying for a child.”

A small gasp left his lips as a single tear fell from his right eye. Immediately he pulled your head against his further, seeking out your lips with his own. He moved his hand from its place at your hip to snake around your waist and hold you firmly against his lap. You felt him moan against your lips as you reciprocated his enthusiasm by lacing your fingers into his hair and tugging lightly at the new growth at the back of his neck.

As your proximity was so flush against one another, you had no choice but to press your full weight against him as he laid with his back against the sand; his hair sprawling out atop the course surface. He expertly maneuvered his right leg beneath yours without breaking the kiss, gasping into it as he darted his tongue out to meet with your own.

A soft whimper flung itself from your lips as he relentlessly attacked your mouth with his own; flittering deep and hungry kisses while trying to taste as much of you as he could with his tongue. You unlaced your fingers from his hair and raked them down his shoulders to his chest, massaging the hard muscle beneath them as you continued in your exploration. He gently rose his hand from its place around your waist and drew itself beneath your shirt and groaned when he felt your tender flesh beneath the material.

Placing your right hand below his cloak, you raked your fingers further along his ribcage and drew them up towards his left arm – halting your movement as you found none residing there.

You squealed into his mouth, feeling him smirk against your lips. You attempted to break from the kiss, only to feel his hand climb higher beneath your blouse and lie flat against your spine between your shoulder blades and continue passionately exploring your lips.

“Shanks,” you murmured a warning reprimand against his lips. He smiled while maintaining his lips against your own, feeling the soft pearls of his teeth as they made contact with your mouth. He continued to chase your lips each time you attempted to flee from his embrace.

You brought your hands up to ball the material of his white shirt within your fists and held him further against yourself, prompting him to let down his guard as he whimpered into your lips at your sudden domination. As soon as you felt him relinquish a small spectrum of control, you pushed hard on his collar bones and pried him from your lips. He first groaned in frustration before his body was wracked with uncontrollable laughter. He collapsed against the ground, prompting you to roll your body from above him to onto your own back in the sand as his laughter became contagious.

And as earlier, the heaving of your shoulders in fits of laughter evolved into heavy sobs from the both of you as you mourned the time lost between you.

“My bride,” Shanks called from beside you as he placed his right hand upon his eyes in an attempt to control his emotions.

“Yes, my groom,” you said as more of a whimper than an address.

He rolled over onto his side and hovered his face above yours, as the tears freely fell down the faces of the two of you; the moonlight cascading over your lover’s hair. Hesitantly, he reached his right hand up to your hair and slowly brought some loose strands from your face and wove it behind your ear. He sighed in relief as he watched you close your eyes and lean into his touch, taking your quivering lip between your teeth as you did so.

“You are as beautiful as the day I lost you,” he whispered with a slight hitch of his voice. You reopened your eyes to watch him smiling through his sorrow. You returned his expression and caressed his chest and ghosting your fingertips over his left shoulder.

“And you are one arm less than I remember,” you beamed a wide smile and giggled a little at your prod. He joined you in your laughter and pressed a chaste kiss against your hair before rising to his feet and offering you his right hand to hoist you up to meet him. You took his hand and allowed him to hoist you to your feet, before he dipped his shoulder down to make contact with your waist and lifted you over his right shoulder. He secured you in place with a crisp slap upon your left ass-cheek as he effortlessly crouched down to retrieve the forgotten, half-drunk rum bottle. He rose again to his feet and began to walk with you over his shoulder, using his teeth to uncork the rum bottle and spitting it against the sand.

“Is this quite necessary?” you asked him, mock annoyance in your tone.

He laughed and took a long swig from the rum bottle and gasped in joy as the liquid burnt its way down his throat.

“Not only is it necessary,” he called to you over his left shoulder, “it is also compulsory.” You laughed at him as he almost jigged back towards the tavern, him joining you in your laughter upon arriving at its steps and flinging open the door with his feet.

The arrival of the two of you had cheers erupting and reverberating from every corner and crevasse of the wooden building. Tankards were thrust into the air, foam sloshing carelessly from the top and onto the floor; much to the many protestations of Mary.

Shanks placed you on the floor after setting aside the bottle of rum atop a cylindrical raised bar table.

“Alright lads,” he addressed the room, “let me reintroduce you to my wife!”

He extended his right hand out for you to place your left hand within. As soon as you did so, he effortlessly spun you into him, your left arm laced over your front as he cradled you against himself.

You looked up to his face, your neck laying against his shoulder as he brought his lips down to meet your own for the first time publicly in a decade. Applause, shouts of glee and delight, more sloshing of ale and verbal reprimands from the tavern keeper echoed the hall as you smiled against the lips of your beloved. Your husband, and his bride.

[panevanbuckley]

i hope fic authors who put songs that inspired the fic in the notes know that i am immediately adding those songs to that ship's playlist

[bvttoneyes]

okay saw that you also write for ethan morgan and could you. write a siren!reader thats like SUPER into him and he finds it unnerving (hes not used to girls Actually liking him) and he agrees to go on a date w her?? you can choose where!

"Bright like blue" ~ Ethan Morgan x Siren! Reader

tw! siren

erm idk which episode had the siren i cant find it 😖 i was gonna rewatch it but nvm ig, anyways ik what sirens are so i'll js thug it out. Also this guy is such a geek that he fs does dates at his house and gets his family to leave the house. he's also broke. i hate this.

(backstory: friends w sarah/erica they knew you were a siren, told the group thats how everyone knows)

Ethan kept his distance from her, to the best of his abilities at least. The thought of her luring someone out and killing them just by using her voice was.... frightening to say the least.

Yet, every time she flashed him the smile he remembered the kind of person she was. That she wouldn't make random men fall in love with her and then lure them out to sea and drown them! Right?

He knew you liked him, Sarah told him awhile ago. He didn't know what to do though, a girl hasn't ever liked him before. He's never even been on a date. I mean he's never really been too interested in dating until last year! Except he would be lying if he said you weren't attractive, I mean you're one of the prettiest people he's seen. Like ever.

"Hey, Ethan wait up" You called for him.

You were going to the same class together, he already knew that. It scared him, but he knew. Why was he so terrified of you? He knew you wouldn't actually kill him, but every once in a while he'll catch a glimpse of a scale or gill thats usually well hidden and it freaks him out.

"you wanna walk to class with-" He cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

"Do you wanna go on a date?" He asks looking at you, "wi-with me! i mean... do you want to go on a date with me..."

The last part of that was less of a question and more of anxiety and muttering. Yet, you could only smile at him and his dorky self.

"yeah sure" you respond, contently.

He was confused, why was he more anxious about this than you? You're the one that likes him! He doesn't even know if he likes you! Ok, he does like you a little bit... but why aren't you freaking out? Jesus just answer her!

"okay, uhm uh do you wanna just meet me at my house then..?" He was trying to play cool but there was clear anxiety in his voice. His stutter with every other word.

"yeah, sounds cool. So... do you wanna walk to class together or what?" You say, almost teasingly. With that same smile you always give him. God, you're pretty.

He just nods his head and you guys walk and talk with each other to class. You were doing the majority of talking, but you were so funny and so interesting. He hadn't ever talked to you for this long before. Once you reached the class your shared giggles died down.

After sitting through the hour long class he was thinking about what to wear, he had a good idea of what it would be. In the halls you went with Sarah and Erica while he went with Benny and Rory. You both just happened to be talking about the same thing though.

You came over an hour after school ended, there were no cars in the drive way. It looked as if no one was home, except the lights were on. You knocked on the door.

He answered wearing his and blue collar shirt with his formal pants. He looked at your somewhat formal (dress/suit/etc) attire.

"You look great" he says with a nervous smile.

"Thanks," you say with a genuine voice, "you look... geeky"

You both chuckle and he invites you in, offering his hand to you. You grab his hand and he gets a vision of water and a dock and a song.

You being a siren this freaks him out and he lets go of you instantly. While you just look at him confused, why did he drop your hand so fast? He had finally just stopped acting weird around you, kind of. Is he going to start again?

He leads you to the dining room where he set up candles and music, with food that looks surprisingly edible.

The room looked nice but, you had to poke fun.

"Everything looks great, but." Your voice trailed off at the end, teasing him.

He looked at you nervously, "but?"

"Take off the sweater vest. It's killing the mood." You say, playfully making fun of him. Lightly laughing.

He just rolled his eyes, taking off the vest and throwing it somewhere behind the two of you.

You two were talking and laughing the whole night, besides eating the enormous amounts of food that the two of you happened to finish somehow?

"Hey, I wanna show you something c'mon!" You say excitedly, standing up while wiping your face.

He looked at you confused, was this the thing in his vision? What were you showing him? He got up slowly, following you out.

You finally both arrived, hand-in-hand, walking to a somewhat abandoned dock. It didn't look old and dangerous but there were no boats or any signs of recent human life. You leave him and go to the edge of the dock, sticking your feet over. Humming some olden siren tune.

Same song as in his vision, thus making him panic. He stays off the deck completely, scared of what you might do. You turn around, suggesting him to come over as you scoot over. Making room for him. Kicking your feet in the water. He walks over, slowly, to sit with you. He takes off his shoes and socks and puts his feet in the water. Kicking with your feet in the water.

Maybe some visions aren't bad.

[maaxverstappen]

help me hold onto you | T | 8/13

f1driver!max and streamer!charles

The man—Charles, Max assumes—sounds French. He loves that. He should be used to a French accent, he was forced to converse with Pierre often enough, but it sounds different coming from Charles. More melodic. Almost similar to someone he used to know once. “And that made me think,” Charles says, voice bellowing from Max’s speakers. “That it was stupid that we didn't have carrots before. Like, come on, it's a farming game.” Max has no fucking idea what the hell he is on about.

or: Max is lonely and finds Charles streaming on Twitch.

based on this prompt sent to @f1prompts

[sunalee]

"Do you want me to help you pack?"

His never-ending sweet gaze lifts towards the voice of his lover. Sometimes he wonders how amazing it is to know you by the hand, every trace and detail, as if he can predict exactly what you're thinking with just a twitch of your eyebrows.

And most of the time, he gets it right.

"You know I won't be leaving till November, right?" He mutters with empathy, trying to turn this into one more duo crying session on his couch. You've already been through that, and he has a feeling that it won't stop until he comes home definitely. Until that, he doesn't wish to spend the rest of the time you have together crying again.

Your breath hitches, getting your thoughts caught by him again, but you don't press on the matter, averting your mind and gaze to the window behind him. It's autumn again; you both love autumn.

"Then... Could we go somewhere?" You can't stay in his loft knowing you won't be visiting this place again for the next six to ten months. You could offer checking up from time to time, but the ache of entering his home without him is bigger than your courage.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere." You almost whisper, feeling your eyes getting filled by water. You hold on though, not wanting to fall into tears again. "As long as you're with me."

He gazes at you for long seconds. You can't decipher what's going on in his mind, you never could; Jaehyun has always been too good with poker faces.

Then, he moves forward, in three large steps enveloping you in his firm, warm hold, as his arms mold against your back like they belong right there, pressing you until you precisely feel the beat of his heart. You realize that its aching too, just like yours, but it continues to beat with the same vigor.

Sometimes you wonder if it's because of you. He always agrees with that thought.

"Stay in my arms, then." He murmurs, moving one of his hands to caress your scalp, his chin resting against your forehead. "We can figure out the rest later." He presses a small kiss on your skin, and exhales.

Jaehyun knows you by the hand. And again, he understands exactly where you wanted to go.

And there, you stay as long as you can.

© sunalee 2024 — all rights reserved.

[kj-yikes]

8. Poet

(on ao3 here) (note: this got out of control AND barely fits the prompt. Oops?)

"Oh! I forgot!" Kara says as she spins around from the door to Lena's office and digs through her bag. "I made you a mix CD!" She produces the CD and hands it to Lena. It's in a clear plastic case with a slip of paper in the cover, listing out the tracks in blue pen.

"A mix CD?" Lena asks curiously, turning it over in her hands.

Kara nods vigorously, a slight blush on her face. "Yeah! I used to make them all the time when I first got to Earth. All the kids at school would make them, and it was a way for me to learn Earth culture. You know, through music," Kara's voice breaks a little, like it does when she talks about her early years on Earth. "It kind of became a way to express myself. Alex and I would make each other mix CDs all the time. And, in case you don't have a CD player anymore, ta da!" Kara digs around in her bag and produces a blue portable CD player with what look like 20 year old headphones. "It still works, I tested it yesterday. Though, you might want to use different headphones. Those were the ones I used as a kid, and I blew out the left speaker," Kara rambles as she passes the CD player over.

Kara is always an odd one, but Lena absolutely adores that about her. She can always count on Kara to liven up an afternoon with a funny story, a silly joke, or a random surprise like this one.

"Thanks, Kara. That's really sweet of you," Lena says, smiling. Kara grasps the straps of her bag and shifts her feet.

"It was nothing. Just something that made me think of you. Of—of us." Lena's heart skips a beat. "Let me know what you think of it," Kara says with a wink before opening the door and waving goodbye.

Kara has to get back to Catco for an editorial meeting, but Lena doesn't have any other meetings for the rest of the afternoon, so she crosses to her desk and rummages around in a drawer for a new set of headphones. She plugs them in and inserts the CD, putting the headphones over her ears.

It starts out pop-y with some of their mutual favorite throwbacks, but then it shifts tone gradually to sweet, sincere ballads mixed in. It's a good CD, she thinks as she listens to it while skimming reports and budgets that afternoon. Lena gets lost in her work as the music plays.

It's not until the end of the second listen through that she really starts paying attention more closely than just the catchy beats.

Is Kara trying to say something with this CD?

She ponders this on her drive home, listening to the back half of the CD again in the backseat and in the elevator up to her penthouse.

Unlocking the door, she kicks off her shoes and throws her bag on the counter. She goes through her evening routine, changing into comfier clothing and settling on the couch with the headphones still over her head.

Lena feels her phone buzz and she flips it over.

Kara: So what do you think about the CD? Did you listen yet?

Swiping her phone to unlock it, Lena pulls up her contacts and dials. It rings for a few moments, until she hears the call connect.

"Lena? Hey!"

"I need your help."

Sam laughs. "Yes, nice to talk to you too, Sam. I'm so glad your day was great!"

Lena winces. "Sorry, Sam, I'm distracted. How are you?"

"I'm just teasing. I'm good. Ruby and I were just making brownies," Sam says. Lena can hear dishes clanking in the background.

"Oh, I didn't mean to disturb! I can call back later." Lena feels a pang of guilt. She knows Sam has been busy with the Metropolis office and probably hasn't had much free time to spend with Ruby.

"No no, it's no problem honey. What do you need?"

Lena sighs, burying her face in her hands. "Ugh, I don't know, I think I'm reading too much into it."

"Reading into what?"

"Okay, so, today Kara gave me a mix CD that she made. For me."

There's brief silence on the other end of the line. "A mix CD? For you?" Sam asks, her voice remaining neutral.

"Yeah. I don't know. She said it made her think of us and she used to make them as a kid," Lena elaborates.

"What's on it?"

"Some throwbacks, and some… love songs? I don't know, some of them are songs I've never heard before." Though Lena appreciates all kinds of music, her tastes tend towards moody classics like Joni Mitchell and Tracy Chapman.

"And what do you think of the CD?" Sam asks.

Lena hesitates. Her relationship with Kara had always been…different, but not in a bad way. Closer than any friend she's ever had, dancing the line between friendship and something more. But Lena had always attributed that to Kara just being Kara — sweet, kind, fiercely loyal, affectionate.

Plus Kara's never mentioned being anything but straight, even if sometimes Lena catches her staring. And, sure, Kara makes certain that some part of her is touching Lena at all times when they're sitting on the couch for movie night and kisses Lena on the cheek when she says something silly about the endless musicals. But that's just how Kara is.

"Some of these songs are kind of…romantic?" It comes out more like a question, which is uncharacteristic for Lena. "I feel like I'm reading too much into it, but… is Kara trying to tell me she likes me?"

"What's the problem with that?" Sam asks. "You've been in love with her for years."

"Sam!" Lena whisper-yells into the phone.

Sam lets out a huff. "Oh, are we not talking about Lena 'I spent millions of dollars to buy a company for my best friend slash love of my life' Luthor, who couldn't stop making heart eyes at one Kara Danvers for the better part of the year I was in National City? So sorry," Sam teases sarcastically.

"Kara's straight," Lena says quietly. "We've been over this."

"Says you. But okay. We can figure this out." Sam shifts into problem solving mode. "Do you have the track list? I have a teenager. She'll know the recent stuff if I don't already know it."

"Yeah, hold on." Lena snaps a picture of the track list on the cover of the CD and texts it to Sam. She hears the chime of Sam's phone over the line and waits for Sam to take a look. After a few moments, Lena asks, "Well?"

"Lena, she put girl in red on this album. I don't think there's any question here," Sam is fighting back a laugh.

"I don't understand," Lena says slowly.

"Saying you listen to girl in red is like, code for 'I'm a lesbian,'" Lena hears Ruby's voice a little quieter over the phone, as if she's talking from across the room. Her eyes widen as Sam exclaims Ruby's name.

"Ruby, I'm trying to talk to Lena, babe." Lena hears a rustle as Sam picks up the phone. "Sorry, Lena, you're on speakerphone."

Lena closes her eyes and buries her face in a hand, propped up on the couch arm by her elbow. She lets out a quiet laugh. "So you're saying," she begins, "that not only is Kara gay, she also likes me."

"Sweetie, Kara is in love with you," Sam says gently, as if she's trying to break hard news. "She always has been, as long as I've known her."

"All this time?" Lena practically shouts in alarm. "Why didn't she ever say anything? I thought she was straight!"

Sam mutters something that sounds like "useless gays" and sighs. "Maybe she has, and you never realized. Or maybe she's just now saying something, with this CD. Either way, you need to decide what you're going to do about it."

They wrap up the conversation, with the promise to Ruby that Lena will share any updates as soon as she can (the teenager seems all too invested in Lena's love life). Lena hangs up and opens her text messages with Kara. Typing quickly, she sends a short, "I love it! Thank you ❤️" to buy some time.

Lena grabs the CD player and puts the headphones back on befor stretching out on the couch with her sweatshirt-clad arm over her eyes and a small smile on her face. She listens carefully to each song, looking up lyrics for ones she's unfamiliar with. She learns new artists — girl in red, Chappell Roan, Kehlani — and hears new tracks from some familiar favorites like Taylor Swift. She analyzes the lyrics like poetry, reading between the lines and the notes to extrapolate meaning and apply it to her relationship with Kara.

By the end of the second listen, Lena has decided three things: one, she really should talk music more with Kara, as they have pretty similar tastes. Or at the very least, Kara is excellent at making recommendations that Lena would like.

Two: this CD was definitely trying to say something, and,

Three: Lena really wants to say something back, and soon.

Lena opens Spotify on her phone, and an hour later, she has a respectable playlist created. Not wanting to overthink her decision, she names the playlist "Kara ❤️," changes the playlist photo to a photo of Kara eating ice cream that she took over the summer (it's also her phone lockscreen), and sends it to Kara.

Lena rubs her eyes tiredly. She didn't realize it was almost 1 am. With a contented sigh, she rolls off the couch and gets ready for bed.

Lena is just about to side into her bed and sink into her mattress when she hears a knock. Brow furrowed, she flips on the light in the living room and walks to the balcony.

"Kara? Is everything alright?" Lena asks, concerned, as she slides the door open. Kara steps in, looking breathless, clad in her pajama shorts and an old t-shirt. Lena closes the sliding glass door and turns around, and that's when she feels solid arms wrap around her and the absolute softest lips pressing against hers.

Kara is kissing her. Kara is kissing her. And Lena is kissing back, bringing her hands up to cup Kara's cheeks. She stands on her tiptoes, desperate to get closer.

They don't break away until long moments later, Kara slowly pulling back and resting her forehead against Lena's and looking absolutely devastating. Lena smiles slowly.

"Listened to my playlist, huh?"

Kara laughs, a melodic sound that makes Lena's heart swell with affection. "To be completely honest, I never made it past track five. There were two songs in the first four called 'Kiss Me.' I think I got the hint."

"Guess I wasn't subtle, then," Lena says slyly, taking Kara's hand and leading her to the couch. She pushes down on Kara's shoulders until Kara is seated, then she climbs into Kara's lap.

"Not exactly, but then again, neither was I," Kara gets lost in kissing Lena slowly for a moment before she pulls away. "Or at least, I didn't think I was, but then you didn't say anything and I worried I upset you and—"

Lena cuts her off with a kiss.

[aka-notokay]

Rereading "Only the brave" from @solmussa got me crying in my bed at the break up i knew was coming since chapter 1.

I HATE IT THERE THIS IS MY FAVORITE FIC EVER.