#rob hustle

[daveofclansmiffy]

This is what happens when you call the cops

Call the Cops - Rob Hustle ft. Bump

[khuantru]

song: Rob Bailey & The Hustle Standard :: TAKE EVERYTHING

(sometimes you have to wreck yourself lifting heavy every now and then)

[fanlovedlt]

Do you know how there’s something you wanna buy and you know you need to get a job in order to buy that thing but apparently lots of places that are hiring just don’t want to hire just anyone???? Yeah that’s me….. 

[someawesomeamvs]

Warning: Violence, lots of profane language, spoilers

Title: I'm A Killer

Editor: NickAMV

Song: RUN This

Artists: Rob Bailey, The Hustle Standard

Anime: Boku no Hero Academia

Category: Action

[emcads]

KISS AND TELL / accepting ! @finalslay said: a kiss attempting to convince the other party to stay . / from adam

ESMERALDA SQUIRMED in the warm, sticky heat of the bedroom that 'the prince's' large casement windows did very little to alleviate, even with fine lace curtains FLUTTERING in the morning breeze. ( as far as temporary residences go, Miss de Sevilla could do a hell of a lot worse than the grand house in Villenueve, curled up here in fine sheets with an even finer boy ) but she paid very little attention to the desperate kiss on her neck, nor its sequel, tracing up a coy path to her ear ; instead, the little thief stretched out to grasp his silver-chased pocket watch ( only for a moment, mind you ! ) and blink at the hours gone by. Christ, I ought to have been gone hours ago. Luis'll be after me in a short while.

❛❛   eleven o'clock.   ❜❜

and with a CLICK –– with so much finality –– she stowed the watch back on its bedside table ( tempted as she was to slip it somewhere for her own keeping ). there was a train they meant to intercept at six sharp, just as it pulled into a lonely basin hidden from the eyes of outsiders ––  and sheriff's badges. the gang could rob by force when they had to, but things went off EVER SO MUCH SMOOTHER with their decoy damsel in distress, fewer bullets and blood shed on both sides. And here I am wasting time with the lord proprietor's son, instead. oh, but he WAS such a delight to waste time with, you couldn't fault her for that. an audible groan, though, slipped her lips as she peeled herself from the DELIGHTS of his bed, reaching for one of many petticoats that lay discarded on his floor.

❛❛   don't you have a railroad to oversee, Mister Florian ? or have the poor souls escaped your watchful eye for the day ?  ❜❜

[wonder-music]

Rob Bailey & The Hustle Standard - Beast

[hotvintagepoll]

What are some screwball comedy pairings you wish had been a thing? Can definitely be gay ones :)

Okay finally!

One of the reasons I made this blog in the first place is that few things bring me as much blinding rage as imagining the movies we could have gotten, if old Hollywood had stopped being racist/homophobic/anti-everyone for ten fucking seconds. There were so many talented hotties working through our tournament era who only got cameo spots or no-budget movies! for no reason beyond white supremacy! there were so many stories that didn't get told because heaven forbid we acknowledge gay people! If this blog has a mission statement, a big chunk of it would be about highlighting all the amazing hotties who never got what they deserved in their heyday.

So! Let's tear Louis B. Mayer a new one and make some better movies.

Diamond Eyes (1946)

Harold Nicholas, the bored but fabulous son of a Manhattan millionaire, decides to take himself off on a transatlantic cruise to recover from the boredoms of socialites, constant martinis, and west side glamor. When working girl Rita Hayworth snags him into a fake dating scheme to throw off a jealous ex (Cesar Romero), he doesn't mean to fall in love with his false fiancé—or to set the ex up with his scheming accountant (Tyrone Power).

To the Tune of Millions (1945)

Ann Miller and Lena Horne are conwomen besties who use a fake dance act to get into casinos, which they then promptly rob. Unfortunately, an over-enthusiastic talent agent (Gene Kelly) sees the act and thinks they're legitimate, hiring them on the spot as the lead number in a newly opened but already failing musicale review. Who can they hustle at a theater that's barely bringing in a dime? The two ex-cons fall in love with show business, Kelly and Horne smooch at the grand finale, and Miller has an intense will-they-or-won't-they sparring relationship with the hot stage manager (Ethel Waters—and they will).

Untitled Three's-a-Crowd Film (1942)

Cary Grant, Jean Arthur, and Ronald Colman are running interference on a corrupt justice system while trying to keep up the act that they are all simply cohabitating in a shared AirBnB and definitely not falling in love with each other. Wait. This is actually The Talk of the Town. This movie actually exists and does veer this hard into polyamorous romance.

Tomatoes and Toast (1928)

Anna May Wong and Greta Garbo eat sandwiches for three hours. It's riveting.

One Soul, Two Bodies (1948)

Farley Granger and Vincent Price star as Alexander the Great and Hephaestion in this sword-and-sandals period piece. Though clearly made on a studio backlot with a budget of $3, the dashing romance grounds the chariot races and cardboard sword battle sequences.

Grand Central Station (1931)

Interconnected narratives of Josephine Baker, Joan Blondell, Dolores del Río, and Fredric March all vying for the last seat on the 5:45 train out to Poughkeepsie. When they realize they're jostling to sit next to the same sugar daddy who's been stringing all of them along, the four decide to unionize. Pre-code thrills; the four-in-a-bunk Pullman car scene remains notable for a reason.

I have more but I think I've gone a bit delirious.

[darlingdekarios]

hibernate.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 6,152 content: Arthur Morgan x f!reader, animal hunting mentions, cannon-accurate outlaw behavior, cowboy meet cute, Arthur Morgan is a simp, snowed in, fluff, smut [v fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming], kink(s) [spit as lube]

it was like fate insisted on the two of you colliding.

The first time you’d met Arthur Morgan was a lovely March night in New Hanover, opportunities abound as the hustle and bustle of life was at its highest point of the year, the weather the most tolerable for moving about. Returning from an evening of fishing now that the water wasn’t frozen in some areas and sketching birds by the river when he stumbled across a lone figure boarding train – well after midnight. He followed on horseback under the cover of trees in anticipation, joined by your own horse shortly after. He followed alongside with a hold of the strange horse’s reins until the train came to a stop. 

He'd strained to hear you, considered boarding after you to clean up any straggling guards – it wasn’t his business, so he didn’t – but curiosity held him close. When the sound of police approaching quickly began you emerged to the top of the train, looking around desperately for your horse. Temporarily frozen when the moonlight caught your face and confirmed to the man that you were a woman, he recovered just in time to spring into action.

It had been Arthur who had led your horse to you and instructed you to follow. It was Arthur’s path that led you away from the law and eventually far enough away to be free of their hunting.

“Are you some kinda lunatic, lady?” he questioned when the two of you slowed side-by-side under the cover of thick trees, his face hard-set and stern. “You coulda gotten yourself tossed away for a long time back there.”

“I didn’t, though,” you laughed, and despite the feeling that burned in him that he couldn’t quite place as anger or worry Arthur’s stomach flipped at the sound and the way your laugh reached your eyes. You adjusted your hat with a playful smile on your lips, keeping the reins to your horse in one hand. 

“Thanks to me,” he asserted, the stress causing him to light up a cigarette and adjust his hat. His eyes caught your gaze and you held it, appreciating his handsome features for a moment as your smile twisted wider.

“I would’ve figured it out, cowboy – you can be sure of that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ve seen your face on ‘wanted’ posters, Mr. Morgan,” you proclaimed, tone proud as you called him on his identity. He took another drag from his cigarette before leaning forward comfortably in his saddle, outstretching a hand toward you. 

“Arthur,” he offered, amusement flashing across his features when you shook his hand firmly. “And I’ve seen yours, too. What is it they call you…?”

“The Panther,” you replied, that proud tone ever-present in your voice. “A nice tribute to my best hunt.”

His poker face was too well-trained to reveal that he was impressed – that he was intrigued.

“Well next time you go thinkin’ of doing something so goddamn stupid like rob a train at midnight alone,” he began, gruff voice filled with frustration as he attempted to present his unamused façade. “You could invoke that particular nickname and be a little more subtle.”

The second time was just as circumstantial. It was July – the heat sweltering, the air sticky, the fireflies sparkling in fields at night. You’d been riding for days, hunting gators in the swamps for weeks and now headed back to a more familiar area where you felt more at home. Just past Emerald Ranch you’d spotted him on the road ahead – his hat unmistakable and burned into your mind, his horse giving away his identity to anyone who knew it. 

There was no questioning if he’d want your company – you didn’t even give it a thought. Instead, you’d hastened your own horse to catch up with him.

“Where ya headed, cowboy?” you questioned as you approached from behind, adjusting your hat back on your head to offer more of your face to him. Your voice immediately sent a shiver down his spine, the barely-there smile crossing his features unmissed by you.

Four months trying to remember your face and voice hadn’t done it any justice.

“Valentine,” he replied, slowing his horse’s stride to match yours. The two of you set a lazy pace, in no real hurry to get anywhere. “You following me now, cat?”

“Like I ain’t got better things to do, Mr. Morgan?” you joked, nose scrunching as you smiled. The Summer sun had done beautiful things for your color, he noted. “Give you $50 and shine your guns if you can beat me there.”

“Are you tryin’ to race me?” he questioned with a subtle laugh, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

“Won’t be much of a race, cowboy.”

He let out a real, genuine, albeit short laugh at that. The sound filled the air around you, made birds vacate trees. Your heart soared away alongside them.

“And what is it you want if you win?”

“A nice bottle of whisky,” you replied after a brief moment of thought, reaching your hand to rub your horse’s neck gently. Arthur had forgotten how gentle your hands were with everything they touched – the rediscovery lighting up his mind. “And a hot meal at your camp.”

“Can’t promise the gang’ll let you eat at camp without drinking, too.”

“Which is why I asked for a bottle of whisky,” you remarked, that shit-eating grin he was starting to love spreading on your face again. “Do we have a deal?”

“Hope your horse is fast enough to back up that mouth of yours,” he quipped back, intentionally antagonizing you as he started to pick up the speed slightly. “Or that you’ve got plenty of gun oil.”

You shot forward then, the dust of the road kicking up behind you as you left Arthur behind on a road you both knew well. In reality he could’ve caught you – could’ve even won if he’d pushed his horse hard enough – but the sound of your laughter in the cool evening air was reason enough to lose. 

It wasn’t a surprise when you crossed over into the town first.

“You cheated,” he argued as he approached, allowing his horse to slow to a reasonable speed for being around other people. “Got a head start. Doesn’t count.”

“You’re just a sore loser.”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, reaching up to remove his hat to resituate his wind-blown hair. You were momentarily transfixed on his fingers running through the strands that looked soft – maybe in need of a wash but soft nonetheless – but quickly wished he’d left it messy. “Weren’t mean you didn’t get a head start, cat.”

“Oh, like a couple steps mattered,” you entered an easy banter with him, just like the two of you had done in the Spring. He’d missed it – hadn’t realized how much he had until then. “Coulda given you a five-minute head start and still would’ve beat you and that slowpoke horse you ride.”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re difficult?” 

“Heard it a couple times,” there was that smile again – the nose crinkling one. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep his thoughts to himself with you smiling that way – at him. You jumped down from your stallion and hitched him with ease, feeding the massive animal a small snack in appreciation of his efforts. “I can compromise. I buy the whisky, but I still get a hot meal at your camp.”

He pondered your proposal only briefly before nodding, letting out an affirmative huff in agreeance. “I’ll meet you at the butcher when you’re done.”

You gave your horse a gentle pat and nodded, turning back to meet his gaze. “Sell that fox pelt I have up on Scratch, will ya?”

Easy. Simple. Honest. Sensible. Arthur loved having you around camp that night – and the night after when you’d been convinced to stay again by the women – though it was hardly just them that enjoyed your company. You’d made easy companions in the camp with your sharp tongue and ability to hold your alcohol. You had plenty of stories to share with Arthur’s chosen family – each one of them genuinely interesting to the gang.

Everyone knew the fact Arthur had brought you around meant you were a good person. The beauty was a bonus, he’d been informed in privacy. He’d only told Sean to shut his mouth in response. Arthur slept by the fire that night so you could sleep in his cot, and if anyone else in the gang saw the way he’d sat up for at least an hour with his eyes transfixed on your sleeping figure in his bed. 

It was Fall, October to be exact, the next time he heard from you – this time you had taken fate into your own hands to seek out his company. He was certain he’d never be able to dispose the letter you’d penned and sent to his camp.

Dear Arthur, Kinda strange to call you “dear”, huh?  Anyway, I have a job comin’ up in Saint Denis that involves me boarding a train quite late at night and remembering our conversation earlier this year I thought I may ask you to join.  Job is planned for the night of October 18, the Saturday after next. I’ll meet you the Friday before at the saloon in Van Horn if you plan on joining me.  I do hope you join me.  Hope that gang of yours isn’t being too rough on you. 

He arrived in Van Horn a day early and rented himself a room – and a bath – so he was prepared for the meeting. He was in the saloon before you, his chest clenching as you walked in through the swinging doors. 

You’d taken a page from his book and clearly bathed recently as well, and you were dressed for the first time in front of him in feminine attire. The sight of you in a skirt shouldn’t have affected him the way it did – it was embarrassing for a man his age. It didn’t prevent the pressure building at his waist, nor did it stop him from speaking his mind.

“You had to wear that damn skirt, didn’t ya?” he questioned when you joined him, a smile spreading across your face. It was hardly a gentlemanly way to greet you, but then again, he was hardly a gentleman. “Knew what you were doin’ puttin’ that on with me coming in today��”

“You complained so much about the pants last time I figured I’d save myself the headache,” you replied, sliding into a chair next to him and crossing your legs for emphasis. “You don’t like it?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, kitten,” he’d practically purred – a new tone between the two of you. There was no denying that you wanted to hear it more, and you nearly chose to forget the real reason you were now sitting beside him. 

“I need to look the part tomorrow for the job,” you replied quickly, eager to squash the tension now building between the two of you, unwilling to allow the job to go forgotten. There was too much money at stake. “Have to board a real nice train when it leaves out of Saint Denis tomorrow night. There’s a safe onboard I’d like to get my hands into.”

“Can’t just rob it the old-fashioned way?”

“Someone didn’t like the last time I did that,” you teased, feeling pleased with the smile it earned. “Figured I’d board and crack the safe.”

“Why you need me then?”

“Need someone to play my husband and keep watch while I’m workin’ on the safe.”

“Your husband,” he huffed out with another laugh, a brief shake to his head. The term had always been silly to him, just as silly as the idea of marriage was to you as a whole, really – and yet, there was no denying the clench in both of your chests at the mere thought. The imaginary suggestion manifested in brief images of domesticity, the vision of you sleeping in his cot in July flashing in his mind. 

You didn’t miss the slight redness to his cheeks, he didn’t miss how your smile fluttered into something laced with affection. For all your joking demeanor, it was still clear that there was some secretive sincerity beneath the surface – that you cared for Arthur. And on Arthur’s part, well…he wouldn’t ride across the country to work for just anyone.

“Yes,” you replied when you’d pulled yourself from the depths of his eyes. “A woman travelling with her husband is far less likely to draw attention than if I were alone.”

You thought there would be some protest, though if you’d seen even a fraction of the thoughts Arthur had conjured up in the preceding months you’d never have to question it. To you what seemed to be him conceding was actually the outlaw taking a step he’d long considered taking with you the next chance he got. 

Arthur just wanted to spend time with you – there were probably very few things he’d say no to right now in regard to you. He wouldn’t go admitting that out loud anytime soon either. 

“Fine, I’ll go along with your little plan. Only so you don’t go gettin’ yourself arrested.”

“Great!” you exclaimed, the brightness that covered your face blinding but serving as confirmation that he was making the right choice. The money he was sure to get would be a bonus, too. “I got you a wedding ring. Looks like it’ll fit. You can sell it when the job’s done, as a thank you.”

“You get it off a dead body?”

“He didn’t need it anymore.”

There was that goddamn feeling in his chest again. 

This was the fourth time destiny had crossed your path with Arthur Morgan’s. 

Now, the ring still lay in the outside pouch of his satchel, the cool metal brushing against the tips of his calloused fingers often daily in a physical reminder of you. Today, feeling the pull of being apart from you for four months now and into the new year, he’d been clutching the metal in his gloved hands as he led his horse through the far North. Seeking the solitary bliss of being alone in the mountains for the winter, he had opted to simply ride and camp, sketching in his journal and enjoying the snow dusted scenery. Arthur’s plan was soon thwarted as a snowstorm began to roll in.

He'd been riding along the same worn path to make his way down the mountain when he noticed horse tracks leading into the thick forest – a horse, by the look of it, with no reemergence to be seen. Opting to do the honorable thing, Arthur pursued the trail, weaving through trees atop his own horse until he came to a small clearing where you were setting predator bait.

He didn’t know the kind of words to describe the way he felt seeing you right in front of him.

“Are you some kinda lunatic, cat?” 

If he had a way with words, he’d tell you that your smile was brighter than the sun itself – fleeting shooting stars, the North Star when he’s lost. 

“That’s not the first time you’ve asked me that question, Mister Morgan,” you replied, standing up and patting your horse as your gaze remained transfixed on him now. Even at this distance you could see the blue in his coat had electrified his eyes, the tone a perfect match for the world around you. You found it hard to form any further rebuttal. 

“Won’t be the last either, given you’re doing something fucking crazy every time I see you,” he teased, finally giving into the natural ease he felt with you. The light air between the two of you had finally lulled him into a sense of comfort around you – he was willing to admit he was concerned, in his own way. “There’s a storm rollin’ in. You trying to freeze to death?”

“Trying to hunt a white wolf,” you replied, glancing back at the bait you’d just set and adjusting the bow you held in your hands, an arrow already grasped between two fingers. 

Fuckin’ hell, Arthur thought. ‘Course that’s what you’re out here doing.

“You ain’t gonna be hunting much of anything when you turn into an icicle,” he replied, hopeful that you would understand his taunting was coming from a place of concern – not control. “You got Scratch nearby?”

“I suppose you’re right,” you smiled, slipping the arrow back into the quiver on your back and whistling to call your horse back to you. You mounted up on the animal easily, Arthur taking the moment to appreciate how languid your movements were – how graceful. His eyes lingered at your waist for a moment longer than was decent.

“If I remember right there’s a cabin just up the road. Been empty the last few times I rode by,” he explained, his words offering more than just a place to shield from the freeze. 

Arthur wanted to spend time with you. You’d truly have to be a lunatic to think otherwise.

“Lead the way, cowboy.”

The snow picked up as the two of you rode side-by-side, both of your horses slowing as the powder piled up, creating heavier footsteps. While Arthur spoke to his horse beside you to soothe her through the storm, you could feel his eyes consistently on you despite the painful whip of flakes against his unshielded cheeks.

What could have been a short ride in the summer extended in the weather, and by the time the cabin approached view you had begun to shiver – something Arthur took note of. When he climbed from his horse he unrolled the blanket on the back of his saddle, passing it up to you before grabbing his shotgun. 

“I’ll check inside, you try not to shiver s’much you fall off your horse.”

He disappeared into the cabin, your mind focusing on the sounds of him moving about rather the piling snow that was sure to trap you for days. Keeping yourself wrapped in his blanket provided the additional comfort of his lingering scent, and you found yourself clutching the fabric tighter and tighter as the moments passed.

“This’ll be fine ‘til the storm’s passed,” he announced as he exited through the doors, voice raised so you could hear him over the wind. “You go on in while I get some firewood and hitch the horses.”

“I can help, you know,” you offered, eyebrows pulling together to communicate your frustration. 

“Would you stop your arguing for once and go inside out of this shit?”

By the time Arthur made his way in from the storm you’d used what wood remained in the cabin to start a fire, the flames warming the air around it quickly. The mattress was considerably dirty and out of the question, so you were validated in the decision to carry in your bedrolls and blankets, having set them up comfortably in front of the fire. 

His heavy boots sounded on the floor as he approached where you sat on the floor from behind, and while you couldn’t see him, you could feel his eyes on you. 

“Already got a fire going?”

“Uh huh,” you replied, noting the subtle shake to his voice. Arthur was strong, but he was human, and he was cold. The fact that he not only was willing to but insisted on suffering for you caused a knot to form in your stomach. “Got some whisky if you need help warming up.”

He simply grunted affirmatively in reply, setting the stack of wood carefully to the side and picking out the driest pieces to tend the fire with now. You tempted to hand the bottle out to him, the liquid going ignored as he began to peel off layer by layer, tossing the soaked clothing to the side lazily with little regard for how they ended up. Normally you’d have stood to hang the clothes, but you found yourself spellbound by the way Arthur’s muscles flexed with each movement under the simple wet damp button up shirt – the last remaining layer.

When he was somewhat comfortable, he turned to face you, eyes flashing with amusement as he took the bottle from your fingers. You were certain your mouth was hanging open and he’d caught you. At the moment, you could hardly bring yourself to care.

Hours passed as the two of you got warm and caught up over the last few weeks. You sat opposite one another, both wrapped in your own blankets and full of enough whisky to ignore the storm outside – to ignore everything but one another. Arthur hadn’t missed that most of your clothes lie neatly folded atop the countertop. The thought was repeating in his mind – the heavy question of what exactly remained under the blanket haunting him. 

He couldn’t be blamed for not being a good listener. 

“Arthur, are you even listenin’ to me?”

“Not a fuckin’ word,” he replied with one more small swig of whisky from the bottle, setting it well out of the way to the side. “Stop fuckin’ doin’ that if you want me to listen.”

“Doing what?”

You knew damn well what.

“Lookin’ at me like you want me to come crawl on top of you.”

Why on Earth would you ever stop doing that? 

“No.”

Your mouth was going to drive him to insanity one day. He wasn’t going to do a single thing about it.

“Did you just tell me ‘No’?” 

“Yeah, Arthur, I surely did,” you replied, quick and agile as you were on your feet. He was beginning to think you may only talk to hm this way, and that thought alone was enough to make him want to reach out to you. “Hoping you take the hint.”

The blanket he’d been using for himself was discarded to the side, your words finally snapping the thin thread of control that remained in him. He extended one arm outward toward the floor to support himself, outstretching his legs to be situated in a more comfortable position before his eyes found yours again. 

“Come on over here,” his invitation came thick as molasses and dripping just as sweet, his free hand patting his right thigh to give his words deeper meaning. “Bring the blanket.”

Arthur had finally figured out how to get you to stop arguing and basked in the glory of the moment as you crawled to him carefully, finding a comfortable seat in his lap as you straddled his thighs. He savored the view as you wrapped your arms around his neck, encompassing you both with the blanket, your face illuminated by the golden glow of the well-tended fire – beautiful, warm, inviting. 

He was more than happy to finally accept. 

“Are you gonna kiss me, Arthur?”

He knew you were trying to sound resolute as you always did – firm and demanding and impossible to deny. While those things lingered – he doubted they could ever truly be gone from you – what really laced your words was the quietest of whines. He sat up fully, bringing his torso closer to yours and grasping your hips in both hands, all the while your heart beating faster and faster in anticipation.

When you opened your mouth to let your protest be known again, he took his opportunity to claim your lips in a long-awaited kiss, the feeling of his lips caressing yours sucking the air from your chest immediately. He opted to slide his hands to your lower back to bring you in closer, pressing your chests together as he kissed you hungrily. Touch starved and overwhelmed by the feeling of you returning his kiss with soft lips he sought more of your skin, sliding his hands up the back of the loose blouse you remained in. 

“Clothes are still wet,” he grumbled against your lips, displeased by the cool touch to your skin that remained. You scrambled to reinitiate the kiss, your lips catching his bottom lip as a whine slipped through your lips. A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest as he nuzzled your cheek with his nose. 

“Take them off, then,” you breathed out, bowing your head to press a delicate kiss to his neck. His own breath caught, arms wrapping tighter around you – almost too tight, almost too crushing. You made no move to stop him as you began to test the best places to leave your kisses, spurring him to release his hold on you to start peeling the last layers from both of you. 

Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear when all that remained were intimate coverings, a shaky groan rolling through his chest. His hands engulfed you, sliding up your torso until he cupped your breasts, dipping his head to claim your lips again. 

That kiss was hungry – starved – clumsy in ways that screamed of desperation. His thumbs rubbed over your nipples lightly, a smile evident on his lips despite the fact he continued to kiss you as a moan slipped from your throat. It spiraled from there, both of your hands exploring, your fingers the best thing he’d felt against his skin in a long time. As the pressure built heavier at your waist his hands trailed lower, one stopping to grasp your waist, the other slipping into the waistband of your underwear. 

He'd never heard music that sounded as good as the sound of the moan that left you as his thick fingers swiped through your wet folds, an appreciative hum shaking in his throat as you burrowed your face in his neck. 

“You’re already soaked for me, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice getting lower and lower with each word. He began to sink his index finger into you, grasping your hip tighter in his other hand. “Fuckin’ tight, too. Hell.”

“Arthur…”

“Aw, hush,” he cooed, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple as he curled his finger inside you, pulling a quiet whimper from you. “No point tryin’ to talk right now, darlin’ – just lemme take care of ya.”

He could take his sweet time, Arthur Morgan. He was a patient man, especially when it came to you, and never more-so than now as he began to work his finger in and out of your clenching heat. He added a second finger soon, pressing the heel of his hand to your clit to give you more pressure, which you gladly accepted by rocking your hips into it. 

As he pumped his fingers into you he began to trail kisses lower, the kisses growing heavier and wetter the further down he went. By the time he nipped at your hip with his teeth lightly you were breathless, eyes squeezed shut as you lost yourself to pleasure. He kissed across your waistline as he pulled your underwear down, smiling against your skin lightly when you kicked them free with frustrated fervor. 

Nothing up to this point compared to the feeling of Arthur sliding his tongue from his fingers to your clit, giving the sensitive bundle of nerves a soft suck. He repeated the motion as you struggled to even moan, your hands grasping at the blankets now on the floor beneath you as you tried to rock your hips into his face desperately.

“Easy, now,” Arthur reprimanded with quiet reverence behind his words, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner thigh softly. “I’m takin’ my time with you, don’t rush me.”

You finally opened your eyes, ready to give him an earful about being a tease, only to be frozen once again faced with the sight of Arthur, golden illuminated by the fire and somehow still wearing his hat tipped back on his head. You maintained eye contact with him as you reached forward with your hands, removing the hat with one hand and placing it on your own head as your fingers ran through his hair, giving a soft tug at the end. 

The growl vibrated through him and you as he connected his lips to your clit, pumping his fingers into you and connecting the tips, curling them skillfully to rub against the sensitive patch deep within you as he sucked your clit. All the while he maintained eye contact, even when he removed his mouth from you with one final flick of his tongue, just as he removed his fingers from you. 

“Arthur…” you whimpered in protest, tugging his hair again to try to bring him back to your needy core.

“Hush,” he instructed tenderly, slipping his hands under your ass and grasping firmly to lift your waist from the floor. He soaked in the view of your glistening folds at this angle and tested how it looked to watch one of his fingers slip into you before removing it, licking his lips again. “You are a pretty little thing, ain’t ya?”

Your reply was sucked from your chest and altered into a cry of pleasure as he spit on your folds, smearing the liquid around before connecting his thumb to your clit, rubbing a figure eight. Supporting your raised hips still with one hand he continued to rub your clit, now using his tongue to fuck into you rather than his fingers, tasting you how he’d wanted to for nearly a year now.

The pressure continued to build and boil, eventually reaching a point of eruption – all the usual signs there with your shaking thighs, shorter and desperate breaths, your nails scratching against his temple as you gripped whatever you could. Arthur figured it was a previously unknown bonus to him keeping his hair a little on the longer side. He groaned to encourage you, switching his movements to pump his fingers into you again, circling your clit with his tongue until you became incendiary, your first orgasm washing through you with white hot heat.

He continued to lap at your folds as you came, removing his tongue from you occasionally only to kiss your thighs and mutter tender praises as you came back down to your body. When you had some sense about yourself, he was crawling back up you, pressing kisses to your stomach and breasts before he reached your lips, offering you a taste of your own honey sweet pleasure on his tongue.

When the adoration filled amorous kiss ended so Arthur could breathe you began to trail kisses down his neck again, following a trail to his chest before his index finger caught under your chin, lifting you back up to him, cerulean eyes questioning.

“Your turn,” you offered, slipping one of your hands into the waistband of his underwear and wrapping your fingers around his throbbing cock slowly. Running your finger over the velvet head you smeared the pre-spend leaking already, biting at your swollen bottom lip when he moaned. 

“Not tonight, sweet thing,” he declined, his hesitation clear in his voice. You began to rub him gently – slowly – too damn slow – causing his eyes to roll back briefly. “You wrap these lips around me, and I won’t last long enough t’ fuck you.”

“Please.”

You didn’t truly know what you were begging for – for him to test himself and allow you to take his already throbbing cock into your mouth or for him to follow through on that promise to fuck you. Luckily, Arthur seemed to know exactly what your words were asking for – what you needed. 

He reached to remove your hand from his cock gently, freeing himself of his underwear before he gently moved you to your side, lying beside you with his back to the fire to shield you from getting too much heat, to ensure you didn’t get hurt. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other slid to cup your cheek in his hand, bringing you in closer to him as he kissed you again. 

As much fun as he’d been having teasing, he was done with the games now, and could no longer find the patience. He reached to lift your leg around his waist before grasping his cock, rubbing against your still-soaked entrance for a moment to gather some lubrication before he sank into you. Inch by inch disappeared into your velvet channel, the kiss practically halting as you gasped. He leaned his forehead against yours instead, grasping your waist gently as he continued to slip into you.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” he breathed out. The large hand that still cupped your cheek slipped downward to rest against your neck instead, his fingertips digging into your skin in attempt to steady himself, to savor your pulse beneath his touch. “Takin’ me so good. You doin’ okay?”

You nodded as you stared into his eyes, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open already at the feeling of him stretching you, almost too full but not something you’d be willing to give up anytime soon. When he’d fully seated himself within you, his cock buried to the hilt he released a shaky groan of his own, his eyes briefly closing as he savored the feeling of being wrapped up in you.

“Goddamn you’re tight,” he groaned out, pressing several light kisses to your lips before grinding his hips into yours slightly. “Shoulda crawled ‘tween your legs months ago.”

“Would…ah…woulda let you,” you managed to reply, pressing your lips to his in an unabashedly salacious kiss, already perfecting how to slot your lips against his in a way that left him craving more. He couldn’t hold back his movements any longer and began to pump into you repeatedly, setting a wanton and quick pace that somehow managed to remain tender and reverent.

He could only be tender for so long, desperation and months of waiting and yearning building in him. His movements began to get sloppy sooner than he’d have liked, though he felt better when your walls began to flutter and clench around him, your thigh shaking around his hip slightly. He picked up his pace to a much more relentless one, driving his cock into you and into your spongy cervix repeatedly as his grunts became more frequent, pressing kisses to your neck now.

“Want you to finish while I’m inside you,” he instructed, though there was something so subtly desperate behind his words – a quiet beg that only someone who knew him would recognize. “Think you can do that for me, darlin’?”

You nodded before leaning your head back again, quiet cries leaving your lips as he connected his thumb to your clit again, immediately choosing a relentless pace to rub in circles. You were almost certain you’d do anything he asked and soon enough you were pushed over the edge again, your walls clenching him so tight he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to remove himself. He did his best to continue pumping into you roughly now as he sought his own release, certain you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Like you’d need to, anyway. 

“F-fill me up, Arthur,” you begged unexpectedly through your euphoria, and he didn’t need anything else to convince him. With only a few more bruising thrusts he stilled inside you as he emptied his seed in hot ropes into you, groaning loudly as he lazily leaned his forehead to yours again, his own eyes screwed shut.

He didn’t remove himself from you when you’d both ridden your orgasms, instead holding you close and reaching to cover the two of you in one of the blankets that was on the floor. He wrapped his arms around you tightly to hold you closer to him, slipping one of his legs between yours for additional comfort and warmth. Still semi-hard with plenty of stamina to offer you couldn’t ignore the feeling of him seated in you still, buried as deep as possible as he brushed his nose against yours. 

“Be a whole lot warmer this way,” he offered, giving a subtle move of his hips to emphasize the meaning behind his words. He pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose before reaching upward to kiss your forehead, leaving his lips resting there. He was right – you did finally feel warm.

“Mm,” was all you could reply, laying your head against his shoulders and closing your eyes, burrowing your face into his neck. He smiled as you managed to press lazy kisses into his neck before wrapping your arms around him as well. 

“Think I’ll keep you here all winter,” he offered after several blissful moments, his head leaning to rest on the top of yours as his own eyes closed. He pressed one final kiss to your temple before succumbing to the comfort of you fully.

“Always knew you were a big teddy bear, Arthur,” you teased. How you managed to run your mouth still after he’d fucked you right was beyond him – but it was also probably a reason he’d want to keep fucking you.

“We’ll call it hibernation, then.”

masterlist. red dead redemption masterlist.

[oneshotnewbie]

Saw an tiktok, and I need YOU to write me a fanfiction about please 🙏 "You've wasted my fucking time. Why are you here?" & "I don't know! Hit me if that makes you feel better!" and then Reader punches them, and the team is kinda proud. Station 19 / Carina x Maya please 💚

- 🎈

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 19 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑛 ♥

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑌𝑜𝑢, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑡 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 19, 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒. 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑆𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝐵𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑡𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓-𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑡

ᕚ---ᕘ

Sirens blared through the streets of Seattle as the Station 19 fire engine screeched around the corner. In the middle of the loud and chaotic hustle and bustle, you, the young firefighter on this team, sat with your heart pounding and a knot in your stomach. You had already been on numerous missions in the last few months, but this mission was different and more difficult than anything you had experienced before.

You were the youngest on the team, the newcomer, fresh out of the fire academy. You felt the pressure on you every time you slipped into your protective gear and made your way to the scene. But today that pressure seemed unbearable.

Sean Beckett, an actual experienced firefighter and team leader, gave the commands. His tone was harsh, but something about him was off. You saw it in his appearance, his looks and felt it in your gut that something was wrong. But what you didn't realized was that you would end up in a situation that would spiral out of control.

As you entered the burning multi-story building, you were hit with instant heat and the smoke made it hard to see. Sean gave instructions, but they sounded wrong, confusing. He repeated them several times, slurring every other word and often took routes around instead of getting to the point. You hesitated, but you couldn't stop following the instructions. You had to follow them so as not to rob the team of security and you trusted the decades of experience and authority of your team leader. But Sean Beckett hadn't told you that the floor you were in was already in danger of collapsing before the fire. Even though he had well-known beforehand.

Suddenly, part of the ceiling on the third floor collapsed and the fire spread rapidly. You ducked tot he side and were torn apart from your team. In the midst of the chaos, you also briefly lost your bearings. When your vision was clear again and the mixture of smoke and dust had cleared, you noticed a wildly waving hand fighting for your attention in the corner, calling for help.

"Captain, the ceiling collapsed and I was separated from the others. I suffered no injuries but I did spot a civilian that I am heading towards now." you said, running to save the person. But as you got closer, you realized it was too late. The man was severely trapped under a larger piece of concrete and the fire had already spread onto the walls where he was buried next to. You tried desperately to remove the mass from him but it was hopeless - you would never get the concrete block off him on your own.

You heard muffled screams behind you. Maya, Jack and Andy looked for you, but you couldn't leave, you were now trapped by the fire that had spread around you. The flames drew closer and you knew you were in danger. "Beckett, I'm stuck. The flames have trapped me, I need help."

But there was no answer. Nothing. Only silences that came to you inexplicably. "Beckett! Are you there? I need help!" you shouted desperately, looking around in panic. You tried to face your team, screaming for their names, and at that moment the dust above you trickled before the other part of the ceiling collapsed on you.

Everything went black and for a moment you thought this was the end. But then you heard your team's voices once again, this time closer and felt the slow shaking of the ground. Steps. Before hands grabbed you. You were pulled from the rubble.

As you looked around, briefly sitting down on one of the blocks to take a deep breath, you saw the worried faces of your colleagues. Andy stood there, her face marred by smoke and ash. She was limping as she pulled you up to get you back on your feet. "Are you okay?" She asked and you nodded silently, unable to speak.

A sudden wave of anger and self-doubt bubbled up inside you. Sean hadn't answered, had put you in danger, almost killed you because he didn't give instructions. And now a person lay dead in the rubble. The thoughts tormented you and grew stronger as the mission ended. You didn't know how to deal with it. But you promised yourself that you would hold Sean accountable for yourself and for everyone else on the team who was put in danger by him.

The smell of smoke and burnt materials still lingered in your hair as the team returned to the station. The operation had been disastrous and the mood was depressed. You felt especially worn out after almost losing your own life and those of others due to false commands given by Sean Beckett or his failure to respond at all.

The team gathered in the locker room to remove equipment and discuss the day's events. You sat quietly, your gaze fixed on the floor, while the others engaged in tired conversation and licked their wounds.

Finally Sean Beckett came in, his expression serious and tense. He was aware that something between him and you needed to be resolved and as he approached you, he could already feel the cold breath of anger radiating from you. "Y/n, I think we need to have a talk. In my office."

You abruptly stood up from Andy's side where you had been helping tend to her knee, your gaze locked on Sean as you confronted him in front of everyone. "Do it in front of everyone and tell them that you ignored my calls and I almost died because of it!" you spat in frustration, putting your arms under your chest before continuing. "You wasted my damn time and almost killed me. Why are you here if you can't give clear instructions?"

The words echoed in the locker room and an oppressive silence fell over the team. All eyes turned to Sean, who seemed speechless for a moment, sipping from his plastic cup before going back to proving his strength, completely off track. "I don't know! Hit me if it makes you feel better!" his voice shook and your fists clenched with emotion and pure anger.

The team froze as the situation threatened to escalate. Suddenly and unpredictably, with a look of immense frustration and determination on your face, you lunged and punched him in the face. A thud filled the cabin, followed by a moment of silence and the crack of the cup, its contents spilling all over the resilient flooring. Then there were loud shouts of surprise from the team, some hands of Maya and Warren holding parts of your body to pull you back.

Sean staggered back, surprised by the unexpected attack but also by the force of emotions that erupted from you. You hadn't held back, but had given free rein to your desperation. "And if you want to denounce me to the union about it, I will personally go there and tell them about you drinking on shift. Others may shy away from it because of the fear, but certainly not me."

As the excitement slowly died down and Sean pulled away without further words, Sullivan squeezed past you while Victoria still held you close, afraid that you would walk after him and smack him again, and inspected the liquid on the floor more accurate.

His fingers dipped into the brown liquid before he put them to his nose, his facial expression contorting sharply. "Whiskey. How did you know?" He asked you immediately, his gaze serious while pride nestled in his eyes. "His statements were unclear. Shy of light. Pale skin. Shaking while driving. Not to mention the stench that emanated from him just as he spoke to me."

The team realized you didn't need a protective cover and could fight your own battles. Andy had hugged you tightly from behind and spoke with a quiet smile. "You have shown that you are not only the youngest, but also one of the bravest and strongest here. We are proud of you."

You were celebrated for your authenticity and strength while feeling exhausted and relieved by the support of the team. The incident had changed something - not only in the relationship between you and your captain, but also in your self-confidence and your position within the team. You were no longer a newcomer, but a full member.

[bardandbear]

Look, I unapologetically love Raphael BG3 and I will forever be angry how he gets shafted for the plot (even if it is appropriately extra).

I want to ramble about why I love his ego though, because the way he acts hits different if you consider where it might come from. (Literally all the spoilers, obviously).

Raphael is just a cambion - half human, and therefore fallible, to the point that it's one of the first things your level 3 party comments on immediately after meeting him. The actual disrespect!

He's the son of Mephistopheles, who seems to be at best a very absent parent. Despite it being implied that Mephisto knows Raphael is plotting to try and take over the Hells, the most he does to stop it is sending him an incubus to distract him. None of the Archdevils show any other interest in stopping him at any point. There is a good chance that in the majority of playthroughs, the upstart heroes he's been trying to deal with will instead decide to just rob him blind instead of working with him - in no small part because they think they can.

Sure, he writes his own planar domination fanfiction, he's dramatic and ostentatious, but why? No one else takes him seriously. He's just a cambion. He's just Raphael. He has to be his own hype man because literally no one else will be. Mark my words, mans has an inferiority complex at the root of that ego. I, for one, respect the hustle.

[pirate-of-the-southern-isles]

Varian and Hugo

Ha, you didn’t see them coming, aye?

Varian and Hugo! What are they doing here?

Well. When Varian was going through his villain era, he made himself some debts to a lot of not-really-nice people, including a few pirates. After his adventures with his own bunch of friends in “Varian and the Seven Kingdoms” (of which we were robbed) he was finally forced to pay it back. So – he needed money. So – he started to sell innovative (though often explosive) stuff to people who like innovative (though often explosive) stuff. Even on lower prices, if a buyer will come back with a review and notes.

As for now, Varian’s debts are long paid, but well, the Republic of Pirates kinds grew on him. He now has his own store and lab, run mostly by Hugo (as Varian resides mostly in Corona), where they research, develop, test and sell his potions and inventions – as a found family. The young alchemist is highly respected here, he met a few other inventors, engineers and magic specialists (although he still DOES NOT WORK WITH MAGIC) and is collaborating with them – all to push history on the way of great progress! But even with the best intention in hand, he would still prefer Rapunzel and Eugene to not know about his side hustle…

Did you notice those little tubes Hans wears on his vest and uses as diversion during battles/boardings/when someone is chasing him? Where do you think he buys it? He even has a special discount – “from one reformed villain to another”. He also helps testing new trinkets out - and Varian is always impressed by his detailed feedback.

Special thanks for The Sims 4 for making me an amazing background!

[kairiscorner]

Someone just tried to steal my car, and honestly my first instinct was "Damn, I need me a protective Miggy to take care of this drama for me.". I just need a big, angry Miggy who is all about making sure I'm okay and my car is okay and promising to take care of it all so I can just go bimbo mode and vibe for a second amid my hectic life 🥺 ~🍄

OH NO, i hope nothing else went wrong that time ... but miggy would definitely not let that slide fr

going somewhere? – miguel o'hara x gn!reader

you and miguel just wanted one day away from the supernatural and life-threatening chaos that filled both of your lives–and here, at a normal, every day supermarket, did you and miguel think to find some release from all the hustle and bustle of saving the multiverse from its hypothetical demise at the hands of anomalies and villains. you two had a wonderful day so far–buying some comfort snacks for movie night, trying on silly-shaped sunglasses with miguel, trying out free samples with him as he mutters under his breath how much better his cooking or baking is compared to those samples; and generally just having a nice, quiet, peaceful day to yourselves without any disruptions.

that was, until you two saw a couple of strangers fiddling with the handles on your car and muttering to each other as they tried getting in the vehicle.

you sighed as you began to walk over to those hooligans with a big paper bag full of vegetables and with a loaf of bread in it, trying your hardest not to instinctively throw the bag at them out of anger and frustration, and try shooing them off or threatening to call security on them. you really didn't wanna do this, not when everything was going right up until this very moment; it was like the peace and calm was shattered and you were welcomed back into the real world where your car was trying to get stolen by a couple of ruffians that just wanted to make a quick getaway with a decent looking car that just so happened to be yours. though before you could take another step, miguel gently placed his big palm on your shoulder and whispered in your ear in a husky voice, "cariño, let me handle this. take a breather for a while, love." and with that, he moved ahead of you and called the thieves' attentions.

"if you two wanna rob, go do it somewhere else; somewhere spider man can take care of it in the open." he said in a sarcastic voice as the thieves turned to face him, looking all startled as they fumbled for their hand-held weapons. miguel sighed, rolled his eyes, and flicked a couple of webs from the backs of his hands at the two all conspicuously–webbing their eyes then their mouths, and eventually, their feet together, causing the two to fall over on the ground and squirm like worms.

miguel groaned as he rolled them to the side so as not to step on them. "you two messed with the wrong couple." he muttered as he looked back at you and hurried off to help you with the groceries, acting like nothing just happened, stunning you as you looked at him all fazed. "yes, mi vida? is something wrong?" he asked you as you leaned closer to him and eventually pressed your lips against his. "i love you, my big, strong spider man..." you whispered to him, along with a 'thank you, miggy', as you grinned up at him, making him all flustered and a bit shy. miguel rubbed the back of his head and shrugged as he avoided your gaze. "just doing my job..." he muttered as you giggled and put your hands on either sides of his face, bringing his head up to look at you. "and i can't ever thank you enough for it, mig." you said in a soft voice taking his hand in yours as you two walked back to the car and loaded the trunk with your groceries, ignoring the muffled voices of the thieves that tried stealing your car and getting in the vehicle.

you felt miguel's hand on yours as you set your hand down on the seat, and you looked up at him with a wide smile; though the multiverse couldn't always guarantee a peaceful life for anybody, there were sure to be loving moments like this, even moments that come after almost being robbed of your car and having your lovely partner take care of them for you so as not to exhaust nor burden you with so many problems.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[agendabymooner]

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 !!! 𝐥𝐧𝟒 — 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

☼ PENG TING FROM McLAREN

chapter summary: honey-sue lewis was so much like her brother wroetoshaw but everybody didn’t know how alike they were until lando, a stranger, got her a bouquet she didn’t even know he bought.

OR why talk to lando norris in real life when you can just send an apology through airdrop?

content warning: use of explicit language, written + social media chapter, honey radiates big harry lewis energy (oblivious, wants to go home, can’t pick up social cues), petty lando (my man is just simping leave him alone), mentions sidemen diss track era

note: shoot me an ask about anything! enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

Her second morning in Monaco started when she had dressed up in her comfortable striped shirt and a pair of washed jeans and departed the hotel to head down to the coffee shop nearby. 

Monaco was a place of glitz and glamour, indeed, but Hannah-Sue, or Honey, would only move and splurge her money on a flat here because of how close everything was in the principality. She could get pissed on a bar here and still make it home by walking. 

She loved it so much. Plus, the locals here were nice! Whereas she could get mugged in the streets of London even if she did nothing but breathe. Then again, she grew up around British people— so being sworn at was just a typical day. 

Peace and serenity was what she had expected on her second day. Ever since she saw her mates’ driver friend yesterday at lunch, she hadn’t been able to look anyone in the eyes anymore. She couldn’t even look at her brother without being awkward— Lando’s eyes were always trained on her when she spoke. 

She hated that he had to be so stupidly attractive and funny. She hated that he was so friendly. She hated that his stupid good looking face was making her even more socially awkward and conscious. 

But as her second morning went on, the thoughts of him had gone away. 

She stood from her seat and excused herself, “I’ll check out the streets right now,” she told her brother Harry and their friends. “I quite like the outside.”

“Honey if you smoke I swear to god—��� Harry tried warning his sister.

“I’m not gonna smoke, you ugly donny,” Honey quipped. “I’ve got no cigarettes with me.”

Filly looked at Honey with a concerned expression, “Are you sure you wanna go out by yourself? Can I come along?” She truly appreciated Filly’s presence in this trip, because he was genuinely worried for her. And they’ve only been friends since last year, so for him to care about her like this showed Honey that being friends with people weren’t all that bad. Not when someone could treat her like Filly did.

Honey smiled genuinely and shook her head with insistence, “I’m alright, Fils. I’ll be out quickly. ‘Sides I’m not gonna get robbed here or anythin’.”

“Yeah she right, she’s not in London,” Chunkz piped up with a snort. “Just be quick, yeah, because our food should be out soon.”

Honey had soon walked out of the place and looked around the streets of Monaco, the hustling and bustling city filled with luxury and ambition as her eyes skimmed through the stores. She truly loved the beauty of the principality. 

Her attention soon turned towards her left, where she found a person around her age waving with her eyes widened.

“Hello- I- oh my god,” the girl started, “Hi- Honey-Sue, right?” Honey nodded with a puzzled smile as the girl sighed, “Okay good— I’m such a big fan of your music and I uh- you’re here for the race right? I am too! I uh- can I take a selfie with you, perhaps?” 

“Oh! Thank you and uh, sure!” Honey nodded and placed her arm around the girl’s shoulder as the fan took a photo of the two of them. 

“Thank you!” The fan exclaimed with a grin, “I would’ve had something signed but I got nothing with me right now- and by the way, congratulations on the double platinum and the platinum for Lust for Life! I’m looking forward to your newest albu—“

“Excuse me, what?” Honey looked at the fan with a confused look. 

“Oh…” The fan trailed off. “Lust for Life just became a platinum album… did you not check your Twitter?”

“No? I uh—“ Honey stammered, still shell shocked at the news, “I don’t usually— Shit I do need to check my twitter and talk to my manager— alright, lovely chatting with you! Cheers mate! You have a good day!” 

Honey dashed inside the restaurant with news to bear.

Why, of all the times she could’ve gotten this news, did she learn that she just reached her platinum record status during her trip to Monaco? When it’s, arguably, the most stressful time for her considering that she was forced to meet new people? 

yungfilly posted a story!

Honey-Sue usually wasn’t this stupid. But whenever new people showed kind gestures to her, her social skills and ability to pick up cues would deteriorate dramatically.

Sure she could’ve just stopped rambling for a brief moment, but she couldn’t help it— nice and considerate people just make her short circuit especially if she didn’t know them before. 

(Hell, even KSI would get her anything she’d like and she’d still be humbled about his kind gestures. That entire “KSI called her a sket so now she’s making him pay for it— literally” ploy was just a front for JJ’s platonic affection for her. The petty Sidemen diss track days were over yet he doted on her.)

She smiled meekly as she continued to examine the bouquet of paper flowers at hand. She twirled the bouquet around her fingers as she admired it. 

“Yeah, we found out that you’ve gotten your platinum for your second album,” Ria continued to speak, but Honey couldn’t stop speaking and stammering. 

“Thank you so much,” Honey said once more, “this is quite nice. I- uh, it wouldn’t die on me so that’s something I can keep in my place for forever…? I really absolutely love it.” 

“And uh- Lan-“ Max tried to tell Honey but the singer couldn’t help but continue.

“I didn’t really expect this— I have to put this in my suitcase—“ Honey rambled. “Though I’m not sure if I should tuck it into the suitcase because this might flatten— excuse me guys—“

“—He- Lando—“ both Ria and Max tried to speak again but the Guernsey girl was already up on her feet as she began to head for the lift with Harry following suit.

Honey was still rambling to her brother as she asked, “Can you airdrop the photos? I ought to post those in my story.” 

“...Lando bought it for you…” Max trailed off, shooting a look at Ria as they sighed in defeat. 

It wasn’t even five minutes after when they received a notification from Instagram saying: “honeysue mentioned you in a story.” 

They weren’t sure how they’d be able to deal with a sulking Lando. Especially when Honey didn’t learn that the McLaren driver was the one who bought the paper flowers before he headed off to the track for his media day duties. 

She could’ve at least read the note he’s written, right?

—

honeysue posted a story!!!

Lando was staring at her. 

And she was staring at the pasta on her plate as she refused to look at anyone. Not when the McLaren driver was staring at her with something of a curiosity in his eyes. 

Was it curiosity or disappointment? Because he probably was disappointed that she was socially awkward and didn’t know when to listen and understand.

She wanted to apologize for not crediting him for the gift. But the way he looked at her told her not to bother— he probably fucking hated her anyways. He probably thought she was a bitch for that. 

Especially after when she realized too late that it was his bouquet that she’d gotten. The message in the card was clear as a day in Monaco.

“Congratulations on your platinum! You’re amazing! Love, LN4 xx” 

She ignored the conversations around her as she continued to sip on her second cocktail of the night. Her head felt a little bit light, but she was sober enough to apologize to him. She had to apologize otherwise she’d feel too guilty and embarrassed.

After all— there’s a couple more days of the Monaco weekend. Her brother Harry’s intention was to spend some time around Lando’s peers. 

All Honey could do was apologize in hopes that the two of them would part ways. 

Meanwhile, Lando Norris stared at the screen of his Twitter as notifications came in from his recent post. It was probably stupid that he acted all petty towards Honey’s obliviousness, but he couldn’t help it. 

He really admired her. And he took her obliviousness about the flowers as a sign of rejection. 

He couldn’t even find himself to look away from her and he knew he was making her uncomfortable— or so he thought. 

And as he stared mindlessly at his screen, a faint sound escaped his phone as a notification popped up.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head.

Honey fidgeted on her seat, her fingers running through her screen as she mindlessly typed away on her phone.

She could’ve just talked to Lando seeing as he sat across the table. But she couldn’t— she was too socially awkward and embarrassed after that whole fiasco. 

He accepted the airdrop that she sent a minute or so ago. But he seemed to not have decided to say anything more seeing as he hadn’t approached her like he did a day ago. 

She was just about to accept humiliation and defeat until a notification came from her phone.

Yeah. Maybe there’s some room for improvement here. 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen

[venuscnjunctpluto]

Astro pt. 6

Credits: @venuscnjunctpluto

*A lot of sex workers have cap + Gemini energy in their charts. I think the cap makes them money driven and the Gemini gives them a carefree attitude towards sex.

*multiple women on 90 day fiancé have Virgo and cap placements. (darcey, anfisa . Chantel has a Virgo moon and mercury. Anfisa and Darcey (+ her twin sister) have cap moons and Virgo venuses. All of the women mentioned were somewhat stuck up and gave off Barbie energy. But once you watch them they were pretty chill some what lol

*Ik a guy w mars square Uranus who’s a stunt performer and Lewis Hamilton (the hot race car driver) has this aspect as well. They are the definition of dare devils.

*If you’re attracted to men look at your mars for the type you go for. If fire you’ll really like fire or air sun men (also include signs that square or opposite your mars) if water you’ll really like water or earth sun men (also squares/oppositions) for example as a sag mars I really like fire and air sign men but also Pisces and Virgo men too. Also the house it’s in can play a role mine is in the 8th so Scorpio suns can get it too.

*Mutable placements are theeeee funniest sorry not sorry

*I love mars-Chiron men they’re so gentle and comforting. Venus-Chiron men can also attract women w prominent Chiron aspects. I have Chiron conjunct MC and my mercury plus it squares my moon all tight orbs. They have a hard time in society bc they’re usually not aggressively masculine like society wants them to be. And they’ll attract women have their own wounds they need to work through so relationships can be hard. “Call out my name” by The Weeknd would be a good representation of them.

*I feel bad for Pluto in 7th their partners will try to change them and feel comfortable criticizing them.

*Someone pointed out Selena Gomez has three men who write songs about her The Weeknd, Justin, and Charlie puth. I want to point out she has mars-Pluto so like I said previously she attracts men with Scorpio influence *coughs* passionate and obsessive. The weeknd is a Scorpio moon w moon conjunct Pluto. Charlie is also a Scorpio moon and Justin is a Scorpio rising.

*She also has Venus conjunct chiron which is so sad bc it makes sense why she sung “the heart wants what it wants” Venus-Chiron can go through a lot of intense heartbreak that they end up channeling into music.

*Honestly I don’t think Hailey is necessarily obsessed w Selena I think she’s obsessed with Justin and she’s his ex. Taurus moons will stalk their significant others ex and constantly try to find evidence of them stepping out. They are beyond possessive.

*It’s also weird to me how many sag placement women can be bullies. Idk maybe the Jupiter influence exaggerates their ego (sun) or their aggression (mars) but all the bullies at my hs had sag placements. My 8th house stellium and Lilith made me bullied if anything.

*Rob Lowes son has Sun in 1st and they have similar mannerisms and can bounce off of eachother well in their Netflix show

*When a man’s mars conjuncts a woman’s sun…she’s the one who’s going to humble him. A guy Ik said an aqua girl was the only one who matched his toxicity and he’s an aqua mars. When reversed (man’s sun conjunct a woman’s mars) he’ll be her ideal type of man.

*Having Plutonian energy as a woman is really hard the older I get the harder it is to make genuine friends. I’m watching this girl who I’ve been talking with in class causally start dressing like me. I’ve also had friends try to copy my hair, how I talk, and my style. It seems stupid but it makes me uncomfortable.

*Sagittarius suns and Taurus suns get into the worst arguments😭

*Libra rising men 🤝 oversized shirts

*Libra mars women🤝 bending their back in pictures to show off their butts

*Capricorn moons are so harsh it’s actually funny

*capricorn placement men and their side hustles. My cousin is a cap rising and this cap sun guy both starting fixing iPhone screens on the side.

*Stormy Daniels has many 3rd house placements and from watching her interviews she’s really sharp. She also has a talent in communication as she was the editor of her highschool newspaper.

[koffeesfancy]

8. “Are we happy?” | Riri Williams x Reader

Summary: Can you build a future when your girlfriend is still looking back?

Rating: Mature (due to language)

Genre: Romance, angst

Word Count: 608

A/N: Tomorrow is the last day of an annoying two-week virtual training I’ve had at work. I’m so surprised that I’ve lasted this long doing daily updates, particularly during such a busy time. Also, I’m really enjoying this mini-series. I never would have thought that I could maintain so much plot with so few words. I definitely tend to overwrite, with many of my fics reaching 5,000+ words a chapter- which may sometimes take weeks to edit. 500-750 words is really beginning to feel like a sweet spot as it makes frequent updates far more feasible.

Taglist: @lyfeofbilly @prettymrswright @onyxstones-world @pvnks0ul

You sat on the couch, staring at the clock, watching the hours crawl by. It was nearly midnight, and you’d been home since four, waiting. Waiting and wondering where Riri had gone. You kept replaying the scene at the clothing store over and over in your head—walking in and asking about the interview, the embarrassment when your friend told you Riri had left without even meeting the manager. The disappointment, the confusion. The anger.

When you got back home, you tried calling her. Once. Twice. Fifteen times. Each ring felt like a heavier weight pressing on your chest until it became hard to breathe. The phone eventually stopped buzzing in your hand, and now you were just staring at it, waiting for a message, a call, anything to explain why she’d gone ghost.

When the door finally opened, you jumped, relief flooding your body for half a second before the anger kicked back in. Riri stepped inside like nothing was wrong, like she hadn’t just left you hanging for hours. She tossed her jacket on the cost rack and started pulling off her Jordans.

“Where the hell you been?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, trembling at the edges. You were shaking now, tears you’d been holding back starting to burn at your eyes. “I’ve been calling you for hours, Riri! I was worried—”

Riri waved you off, barely glancing at you. “I’m fine. Chill out.”

“No, I’m not finna chill out!” you snapped, standing up. “You missed the interview. My friend put her neck out for you, and you didn’t even show. What were you doing all day?”

Riri sighed, rolling her eyes as she stepped into her slides. “I was making money.”

You froze, your mind scrambling to make sense of it. “What… what you mean you were making money?” you asked, your voice trembling. “You didn’t—Riri, tell me you ain’t—” The words stuck in your throat. Rob somebody. Steal something.

She glanced at you, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. “Calm down, Ma. I ain’t rob nobody. Moved a few ounces, that’s all.”

The relief you felt was immediate but short-lived. This wasn’t better. Not by a long shot. Your stomach dropped as the realization sank in. “You sold weed? That’s what you been doing instead of going to your interview?”

Riri shrugged, grabbing a hoodie from the chair. “I wasn’t about to be getting dropped off by my girl to make $20 an hour, Ma. You know me better than that.”

Your chest tightened. “Riri… I can’t believe you right now. I’ve been breaking my back, doing everything I can to make this work, and you out here hustling like we still in the streets. Is this what you want? To keep living like this?”

She stopped at the door, looking back at you, bored, like she was already over the conversation. “Come outside.”

You followed her, your heart racing, part of you scared of what you might find. She led you down to the curb, where a sleek, black Dodge Charger sat gleaming under the streetlights.

You stared at the car, then back at Riri, your stomach twisting into knots. “Riri, what is this?”

She smirked, tossing you the keys. “That’s what I been doing today.”

You caught the keys, staring at them like they were about to explode in your hand. A sick, hollow feeling settled in your chest. “Are we happy?” you whispered, not sure if you were asking her or yourself. Riri just laughed, walking past you and heading back toward the apartment, leaving you standing there with the keys to a car you never wanted.

[larkingame]

Hello!! Are you having a nice day? I hope you do!!! I wanted to ask, could u maybe tell us what the different classes are? Tumblr's search function always lets a girl down and the detailed info is not in the pinned post as far as I can tell, so I can't find the info :( Thank u and have a lovely weekend 💕💕💕

hi! today's going okay so far! thank you for the ask :)

so there are seven classes in larkin! in the game they kind of function like the traditional class system in a game like dnd combined with their background system, meaning they not only shape the players skills and abilities, but they also have an effect on some of their viewpoints and values, as well as having an impact on their relationships with other people in the world!

the outlaw - this is your traditional criminal class/background. an outlaw abrams has managed to survive through any means necessary--something that Wyatt doesn't exactly approve of, given his own 'moral code' 🙄this class is great with intimidation and making connections in the various underworlds that larkin's version of the US has to offer. character's like Nash might not take too kindly to some of their methods, but he would have to admit--they're effective.

the healer - this is your 'doctor' class, well, as close as one can come to being a doctor without any formal training. an expert in traditional medicine, a healer Abrams has survived on the kindness of others after delivering babies, pulling bullets out of rogues and tending to sick kids. Wyatt is particularly proud to call a healer Abrams his kid! Cassidy and Ethel would find you particularly valuable--as the Ward gang is currently down a healer.

the showman - this is Larkin's version of a bard. An expert musician and storyteller, you live for the stage, you shine best when you're entertaining, swaying an audience. Wyatt isn't particularly favorable towards your selected path in life--he thinks your talents could be put to better use doing something else--but you're his kid no matter what. Already kind of mentioned this, but Cyrus has a soft spot for musicians!

the conartist - this class aligns the best with the barest bones version of the MC, when they were first being developed in 2020. They've followed in Wyatt's footsteps, selling forged land-deeds and miracle tonics, swindling unsuspecting bleeding hearts out of their pocket change and making a big old show of it all the while. An expert at manipulation, Wyatt couldn't be prouder of the little conman you've turned out to be. Rose finds the conartist a little suspicious--like people trust them far too easily, but Dominic on the other hand, loves the way Abrams can get people eating right out of their palms.

the thief - this Abrams has sticky-fingers, great with pick-pocketing and breaking into places they shouldn't be, they'd consider themselves something of an expert thief. with a boost to dexterity, this Abrams has nimble fingers that help in terms of picking locks and other delicate tasks. Wyatt thinks you could be doing something a little more honorable, but he'd be lying if those nimble hands of yours didn't come in handy from time to time. Reyes absolutely adores the way this Abrams can rob a man blind without them even realizing.

the gambler - holding 'em and folding 'em is this Abrams' specialty. They've been counting cards since before they could read, shooting dice before they were old enough to enter a casino and hustling pool long before their twenty-first birthday. Wyatt is pretty happy with the little cardshark Abrams' has turned out to be, he admires how well the can keep a lid on things--well, usually. Hollis is hesitant around this version of Abrams. They usually have people figured out the moment they've met them. But this Abrams? This Abrams is unreadable--and they hate going in blind.

the slayer - now, every version of Abrams is a vampire hunter, though the slayer takes a different approach to the craft. Vampire hunter is all they are, it's all they'll ever be, it's what'll kill them one day--but they've long accepted that. Their knowledge of the Vamp world is unparalelled, their dedication to slaying all of Vampire kind rivalling that of the Pope's dedication to Christ. Wyatt is...well, Wyatt worries more about the slayer than he does the other Abrams'. Montero and Adam, both being Vampires themselves have differing opinions of the slayer, but--they'd be lying if they didn't say they weren't at least a little wary of them.