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love-bitesx · 11 months

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Hey, luv ur last Hobie writing it was so good! so like as a request (sorry if my wording is a bit awk ive never requested anything on tumblr b4😭) hobie x fem reader (or not gendered i dont mind) on like what it would be like putting Hobie on music as a reader that listens to a ton of genres and not mainly punk rock- like would he be open minded on it etc. and also what falling asleep w him with music in the background would be like and stuff. like a little one-shot on that (or hc’s!)

: ̗̀➛ OPEN-MINDED

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

gonna hug every anon/req ever i love u lot so much <3 this is kind of just a ranty headcanon one shot. thing. i think. we'll find out. i think im physically incapable of writing a short one shot, i just love this guy too much thank u for the req!!! love u also, this is strictly my headcanon and my opinion, if there's something canon that contradicts this, my apologies!! this is just a bit of fun :)

i think he'd be somewhat open-minded, but he'd have his strict no-nos. pop music being that, or anything on the radio, he tells you it's just propaganda from the 'system'. remember, this guy is an anarchist, plus so much more.

having grown up in england, london specifically, i think he'd be partial to uk hip hop, grime, garage, alt rock, alternative music, etc. anything that sparks a bit of controversy. anything from the streets, the people. plenty of those genres stem from rock'n'roll music anyway, so i wouldn't be surprised.

however.

you're laying in your room one night, it's dark outside, the night crawling in as a gentle breeze drifts through your open window. headphones plugged into your phone, you scrolled through a newly made playlist, brows furrowed in thought as you tried to remember anymore songs you wanted to add.

humming along to the tune echoing in the headset, you were absolutely zoned out. it wasn't until a large pair of hands grabbed your waist, did you crash back down to earth. ripping the headphones off your head, you jumped back in defense.

"what did i tell you about leaving your window open, y/n?" hobie scolded you, a playful smirk on his lips, standing up straight, looking down at you, "could've been any dickhead coming in here, y'know?"

"not just any dickhead can scale 7 floors and climb in through my window, hobie," you rolled your eyes, fixing the mess you made when you threw your headphones and phone on the bed.

"yeah," he leant down, until his face was but an inch from your own, "only the really bad ones can."

with that, and a devilish grin, he pressed his lips against yours, using his advantage to push you backwards onto the bed, climbing on, making himself comfortable on the mattress next to you, holding you close to him. your hands went to his chest, feeling it rise and fall under your touch.

"i missed you," he muttered between kisses, his piercing ice cold against your lips, sending chills down your spine.

"i missed you, too, hobie," you whispered back, welcoming his touch on your waist.

pulling back with a smirk, he reached for the phone in your hand, opening it up.

"what were you listening to so intensely?" he quizzed, but his question was instantly answered at the name of the playlist you had made.

for hobie

"oh."

to say he was stunned, was an understatement. this was new to him, no one had ever made him a specially made playlist before, no one had gone to the effort. his heart swelled. scrolling through, he saw an array of artists that he hadn't even heard of before, mixes of genres that he knew you loved.

"sorry, it's really silly," you dismissed, reaching for your phone at his blunt response, suddenly feeling a wave of insecurity.

his eyes snapped to yours, shocked at your reaction, "what? no, absolutely not."

though his stomach twisted slightly at the thought of listening to lana del rey? whoever that was, he wasn't sure, but the fact you listened to it, thought of him, and thought of him so much you made it into a playlist dedicated to him? well, he'd be an idiot to refuse that.

"i love it, darlin', thank you," his smile was soft, genuine, one you only see him give to you, which is why you loved it so dearly.

"baby, who's kendrick lamar?"

BONUS #1

it was a late night, you were exhausted from working all day, and the 7 staircase climb wasn't ideal, now that the elevator in your block had stopped working. dumping all your stuff in the living room, quickly throwing on some clothes from the dryer and a quick bathroom visit, you nudged open the door to your bedroom.

you knew hobie was crashing at yours, it was more rare when he wasn't.

what you didn't expect was the sound of mellow, soft music coming from inside. continuing quietly, you peered around the door to see your boyfriend, barely under the covers, sound asleep on your bed. eyes scanning the room, you saw his phone, open on the mattress beside him.

silently stepping over, your heart melted at what you saw on his phone screen. the playlist you had made him, shuffled, playing through the speakers on his phone.

chest warm and full of adoration for this man, you leant down to place a kiss on his temple, smiling at the way his body reacted to your touch.

he was an angel, of sorts.

BONUS #2

though you complained about it at first, hobie would definitely need music to fall asleep to. sometimes he was so tired that the second his head hit the pillows and his arms wrapped themselves around you, he was asleep. but mainly, he played music from the speakers in either of your rooms.

the only issue with this, however, is that his music was never stereotypical sleeping music.

whilst only on a low volume, just something to keep his mind from fuzzing too much as he tried to sleep, you weren't a stranger to falling asleep to the likes of ramones, dead kennedys, motörhead, sex pistols, etc.

he loved you for it though, beyond grateful with your patience with him.

a/n: golly gosh i love this man so much

#hobie #atsv hobie #hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #hobie my beloved #hobie x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #anon #i love anons #reqs open #reqs

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faithsxoxo · 24 days

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pairing :: chloe price x reader note :: band au, you’re chloe’s manager and she’s the drummer ;) warnings :: very very implied nsfw

Chloe whips her head towards the door as it slams open. You stand the doorway, absolutely fuming.

“What were you thinking?” You exclaim, storming towards her.

“Careful, if you glare any harder you might pop a blood vessel,” Chloe leans back in her chair, absentmindedly chewing on the straw of her drink. She barely glances at you before returning to her phone.

“Listen,” you begin, already losing your patience, “I don’t care what you do in your spare time. That’s not my job. However, when your reputation is involved, that makes it my problem.” Chloe rolls her eyes.

“I went out and screwed a couple girls, so what? My ‘reputation’ shouldn’t matter to true fans,” She punctuates her sentence by kicking her legs up onto the table.

“Maybe this never occurred to you, but you’re not the only person in the world Chloe Price,” You spit. “Your public appearance may not matter to you, but being caught in scandals affects all of the band. I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for them.”

Chloe’s face crumples for a moment, but she recovers so quickly you almost think you imagined it. “Whatever,” She grumbles, turning away from you. “I get the point, you can fuck off now.” With a sigh, you turn around and walk out. You feel a pang of guilt, before washing it away. It’s not your fault she’s a raging cunt.

•

“7 minutes, going on in 7 minutes,” The headset crackles into your ears. You push into the dressing room where the three girls await you. Chloe is holed up in the corner, headphones leaking her punk rock playlist. Steph sits at the vanities brushing on finishing touches to her colorful face.

“You all ready?” You call, stepping over heaps of discarded clothes and accessories. “Just about,” Steph calls.

“6 minutes, 6 minutes all,” the radio calls again.

“I hate that thing,” Rachel grumbles, pacing the length of the room.

“Jesus, cool it Rach. You’re making me nervous,” Steph turns to face her.

“10,000 people in a stadium. To see our stupid fucking band,” Rachel sighs. “How am I supposed to cool it?”

“It’s really not a big deal, you’ve done this before,” you reassure, patting her arm lightly.

“5 minutes folks, 5 minutes on the clock. Can the band please meet behind the curtains, I repeat can the band join us on the stage,” The radio calls.

Rachel swears. Steph steps to her and wraps her arm around her shoulder.

“Come on Rach, no biggie. Just pretend they’re not there.”

She sighs.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

•

You stand slightly off stage, watching the scene unfold. Thousands of roaring fans carrying signs and lights filled the stadium, all of them reaching for the trio.

Cash Register Fire.

The band that you had put your heart and soul into getting signed. They deserved it, putting hundreds of hours of time into their music. You remember the first days of being with them, hanging out in their studio apartment. You sighed softly, recalling the sweet memories.

•

Laughter fills the room.

“Oh fuck-,” Chloe cries out as her cymbal crashes to the floor. You clap, leaning against the back wall.

“Very convincing. The records will love seeing this,” You giggle, shaking your head.

“Get used to it,” Chloe smirks, throwing her arm around you. “It’s part of the brand.”

“Chloe, don’t scare her off yet,” Rachel groans. “Nahhh,” Steph calls. “She’s already used to our bullshit.”

“Chloe’s bullshit,” Rachel corrects.

Chloe steps away from you, and you almost want to lean back into her.

“Shut the fuck up,” Chloe rolls her eyes.

•

Huh. You furrow your brows, pondering the moment. What had changed between you and Chloe? You crane your neck to see her on stage. Blue hair, tattoos, piercings, Chloe’s the definition of punk rock. Your cheeks flush. She looks incredible in that tank top. You catch yourself, shaking your head and stepping back. No. You cannot be thinking this about Chloe fucking Price. You turn around and walk away before you can think anything worse.

•

Finally, the show closes and the trio step backstage. “Holy shit you guys, you did amazing,” You exclaim, feeling prouder than ever. “You think?” Rachel sighs. “My voice cracked like 3 times.”

“Shut the hell up,” Chloe moans, punching Rachel in the shoulder. “You sang great and you know it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rachel rolls her eyes and pulls away. “Cmon, I’m fucking starving.”

As she pulls Steph away, you grab Chloe gently. “Er- nice work tonight,” you mumble, awkwardly. “Your drumming is… cool.”

“Cool drums. Uh- thanks for the feedback.” She runs her fingers through her hair. You nod slowly, avoiding eye contact.

“Listen- uh. You wanna ditch?” Chloe suggests quickly.

“…What?”

“Ditch. Y’know, go somewhere. Celebratory dinner or whatever,” She says.

“Oh. I mean, don’t you want to do that with the rest of the band?” You ask.

She shoves her hands in her pockets, embarrassed. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” She shakes her head. “It was a stupid idea anyway.”

“No! No, not at all,” You’re quick to respond. “I would love to go get something to eat.”

Her eyes widen, before falling back into her mock-annoyed expression.

“Yeah- I mean, yeah, I knew you were gonna say that. Okay, um, dinner.” Chloe grins slightly. “I know a place.”

•

You and Chloe pull up to a small diner on the edge of town. “Two whales,” You murmur.

“My mom owns the place,” Chloe explains. “But, uh, if you want to go somewhere else we can.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, this sounds nice. I’ve never been out here before,” You smile gently.

You both head inside and situate yourself in a booth.

“So.. not that i’m opposed to this, but what’s with the sudden change in attitude?” You question, smirking slightly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chloe grumbles, turning away.

“Oh? What, are you trying to rope me into a new scandal of yours?”

Chloe narrows her eyes.

“Again, my reputation isn’t your business. Just stop worrying about me,” She growls, crossing her arms and turning away.

“You mean doing my job?” You roll your eyes. “I’m not having this conservation with you again.”

“Then fucking don’t!” Chloe exclaims. “Can’t you fucking leave me alone?”

You slide out of the booth and glare at her.

“Fine, maybe I fucking will.” You grit, before storming out of the diner.

•

You sigh, burying your head in your arms. You had been working with CRF’s marketing team all morning trying to cover up Chloe’s newest ‘business’. After you had left her the previous night she had been spotted completely wasted in the closest bar. You almost felt bad. A knock on your office door makes you perk up. “Hey. How’s my favorite manager?” Rachel smiles softly.

“Ugh.” You groan, covering your face with your hands.

“Yeah, I know. But, listen, Chloe is.. not doing too well right now,” She informs.

“Okay? Can’t you handle that?” You grumble. She winces slightly.

“She locked herself in her room and won’t come out. We were hoping that she might let you in.”

“Why the hell would she let me in?” You question.

“Didn’t you use to be close? I know it’s a bit of a rough patch right now, but she might appreciate you trying,” Rachel replies with a nervous grin.

“I’ve been fucking trying. That’s all I do,” You shake your head in annoyance.

“Whatever. I’ll go see what she needs.”

•

“Chloe,” You bark, banging on her door. “Let me in.”

“What the fuck do you want?” She shouts, voice muffled from burying her face in her pillow.

“I want to know why you’re moping around. You’ve got everything you could possibly want, what more?” You fume.

Chloe pulls open the door with a huff.

“I do not have everything I want,” She growls.

“So what, you’re privileged enough to have most of it,” You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. “What else could you possibly want?”

Her gaze softens for just a moment, before returning to her glare.

“Something I can’t have,” She whispers.

“And what could that possibly be?” You roll your eyes.

Chloe suddenly grabs your arm and pulls you closer.

“Are you that fucking dense? Do I really need to spell it out to you?”

You gasp softly.

“Chloe..” You murmur.

Before you know it, her lips are on yours. You let yourself melt under her touch, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Fuck,” She mumbles against your lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Maybe I don’t know,” You whisper, “But you can show me.”

She smirks and pulls you into her room, locking the door.

“Yeah, I’ll show you.”

#chloe price x reader #life is strange #life is strange x reader #chloe price #steph gingrich #rachel amber #life is strange fanfiction #faithsxoxo

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pleasantlyinsincere · 2 months

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Hi, I was wondering if you know what music John was a fan of in the late 70’s? I’m aware of him being excited about the B52’s, and I’m assuming he liked David Bowie and Elton John’s music in part because they were his friends in addition to obviously being talented. And I think I read once that Julian turned him onto Queen but tbh that may be me misremembering a fanfic lol I just wonder if there’s anything out there that describes what John’s music tastes was in those days or whether he preferred to stick with his favorite classics; early rock and roll, girl groups ect. Like what did he think about the punk scene in NY?? Or the close harmonies a la Fleetwood Mac that dominated the charts? Just things I think about haha.

Hi, thanks for the question. I know that I skipped through a book called John Lennon: 1980 playlist by Tim English before, that may be a good source for you. Here's some random info, that I remembered where to look up. I think Julian introducing John to Queen comes from the SPIN magazine interview in '75:

[Julian] likes Barry White and he likes Gilbert O’ Sullivan. He likes Queen, though I haven’t heard them yet. He turns me on to music. I call him and he says, “Have you heard Queen?” and I say “No, what is it?” I’ve heard of them. I’ve seen the guy … the one who looks like Hitler playing a piano … Sparks? I’ve seen Sparks on American TV. So I call him and say, “Have you seen Sparks? Hitler on the piano?” and he says, “No. They are alright. But have you seen Queen?” and I say “What’s Queen?” and then he tells me. His age group is hipper to music … at 11 I was aware of music, but not too much.

But then there is also an anecdote, I think by Tony Barrow, that John didn't want to sign Queen to Apple years earlier? However that may be a lie, or John just didn't remember.

Yoko gifted John a jukebox for his birthday in '78 and apparently John filled it with the old music he liked. Elliott Mintz says there was quite some Bing Crosby. And I remember John also putting some new song by Dolly Parton in there.

"Yoko gave him this old-fashioned jukebox and John stocked it with Bing Crosby records. People kind of expected him to have rock 'n' roll records in there, but it was almost totally Crosby stuff. There were 3 songs which John played over and over. I still remember them. They were Crosby with a jazz quartet from the 50's, I think. He would banter and talk in the songs and John thought that was just the end. The songs were Whispering, I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter and Dream a Little Dream of Me. Yeah, those were the songs, I can still see John listening to them." - Elliott Mintz

“The one modern song I remember him listening to was ‘The Tide Is High’ by Blondie, which he played constantly. When I hear that song, I see my father, unshaven, his hair pulled back into a ponytail, dancing to and fro in a worn-out pair of denim shorts, with me at his feet, trying my best to coordinate tiny limbs.” - Sean Lennon

One night we were playing at Max's (Kansas City) in New York City, and I was waiting for everyone to leave the club so I could go back in and pick up my gear. We were sitting in the van waiting and John Lennon and Ian Hunter from Mott the Hoople came staggering out and looked over. John Lennon saw it was me and stuck his head in the window. He was kind of drunk and stuck his face right against mine and went 'yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah' because he recognized it (Devo's song Uncontrollable Urge) as being an updating of She Loves You. That was one of my most exciting moments ever. - Mark Mothersbaugh on John coming to a DEVO gig in '77

PB: John, what is your opinion of the newer waves? Lennon: I love all this punky stuff. It's pure. I'm not, however, crazy about the people that destroy themselves. Playboy interview, 1980

I like pop records. I like Olivia Newton-John singing "Magic" and Donna Summer whatever the hell she'll be singing. I like ELO singing "All over the World". I can dissect it and criticize it with any critic in the business...But without any thought I enjoy it! That's the kind of music I like to hear. - John

John Lennon raced into Yoko Ono’s home office in the mammoth old Dakota building with a copy of Donna Summer’s new single, “The Wanderer.” “Listen!” he shouted to us as he put the 45 on the record player. “She’s doing Elvis!” I didn’t know what he was talking about at first. The arrangement felt more like rock than the singer’s usual electro-disco approach, but the opening vocal sure sounded like Donna Summer to me. Midway through the song, however, her voice shifted into the playful, hiccuping style Elvis had used on so many of his early recordings. “See! See!” John shouted, pointing at the speakers. The record was John’s way of saying hello again after five years. [...] It was just weeks before his death in December of 1980, and his playing the Summer record was an endearing greeting -- and one that was typical of John. Of the hundreds of musicians I’ve met, John was among the most down-to-earth. Corn Flakes with John Lennon (And Other Tales From a Rock ‘n’ Roll Life) by Robert Hilburn

"I'm aware of ... Madness. "Don't do that. Do this." (As on the spoken word intro to "One Step Beyond".) I think that is the most original thing actually because it's so peculiar. ... Out of all that mob I think that was one of the most original sounds. Very good drumming, very good bass and all of that." Andy Peebles interview

And things I don't have quotes for right now: I remember Bob Gruen had given John some video compilation of punk bands, that John enjoyed watching. In one of the last interviews John said Hungry Heart by Bruce Springsteen was a great song. There are the albums John asked Fred Seaman to buy on his shopping lists. Some are printed in The John Lennon Letters (Though I'm not sure that means he liked them, but at least was interested in.) Lot's of Bob Dylan talk in the diaries and parodies. Many anecdotes about reggae bands. In the Double Fantasy studio recording John references quite some songs and artists, when he tells the musicians what they are aiming for in the songs.

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danikamariewrites · 5 months

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Hi I just recently found your blog and can I just say I love your writing so much! I spent most of my day reading your fics.

I saw your combined aesthetics fic and it gave me this idea. I was wondering if you could do a ruhn x reader? With the reader secretly liking heavy metal and rock music but nodoby could tell because she was very shy and sweet? So then one day Ruhn finds out and is surprised and you could maybe go from there?

You don't have to do it it was just something I thought of and thought that you would be a the perfect person to write this.

I’m with the Band

Ruhn x reader

A/n: Thank you anon, you're so sweet! Thank you for reading, I loved writng this it was so cute

Warnings: none

As you walk to Ruhn’s house from band practice you bop your head to the recording for the new song you rehearsed. Things were going great for you and the girls. You guys had never thought about actually doing gigs, it was just a silly thing Becca started in her garage. It’s been three years of you guys just jamming.

One night Becca’s neighbor knocked on the door. You thought he was going to yell for the music being too loud. It turned out the guy owns the White Raven and wanted to start doing live music on the weekends. The girls agreed and now Illogically Hotter is playing a second gig tomorrow night. You hadn’t told Ruhn yet. Not that you’re ashamed of your girls or your music, you’re just not ready for him to see you perform yet.

Stepping into the house you slip your headphone off your head resting them around your neck. Preparation for tonight’s party was in full swing. Dec was setting up the beer pong table while Tharion and Flynn brought kegs in from the kitchen.

Ruhn skids to a halt in front of you, sporting that wild boyish grin. “Hey baby,” he says happily pulling you into a loving hug. You hug him back tighter burying your face in his chest. “Hey Ru. Missed you.” Ruhn kisses your forehead with a loud smack. “I’m gunna go upstairs and get ready.” He nods at you as you take the stairs two at a time to his room.

Ripping off your sweaty shirt you let out a relived sigh. You went way too hard on the drums tonight. You pull out your oversized Banshee shirt that people always mistake as Ruhn’s along with your ripped jeans. Maybe you will tell Ruhn about your band tonight.

Ruhn plops down on the couch throwing his arm over your shoulder. He’s followed by Hunt, who looks as smug as your boyfriend, Ithan and Flynn who look defeated. Clearly sour at the fact they lost another round of beer pong.

Bryce giggles, “Aww sore losers again?” She teases. Flynn rolls his eyes at her. “You play them and see if you’re laughing after.”

A Banshee song comes on over the speakers. A rarity that the playlist strays from pop or house music unless you get your hands on whoever’s phone is in control. You start bopping your head and humming along, drumming your fingers on your thighs.

Flynn squints at you. “You like this song y/n?” You nod, “Yeah, I’m a big Banshee fan. I love rock, punk, heavy metal, all that stuff.” His jaw drops. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you and retreat into Rhun’s side praying his shadows could swallow you up. “What! I thought you were our resident pop princess.”

You shake your head, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Actually,” you drawl shyly looking up at Ruhn, “you know Becca, Laurel, and Vesper? We have a rock band.” It was Ruhn’s turn to be surprised. You saw hurt briefly flash in his eyes. He quickly recovered, shooting you that boyish grin. The group bombarded you with questions about what instrument you play, how long have you been in a band, and where you’re playing. Ruhn didn’t say a word the whole time. Your heart beat from the anxiety of the love of your life being mad at you.

Hours later you and Ruhn were getting ready for bed in uncomfortable silence. Climbing into bed you let out a sigh. It felt good to finally lay down. Ruhn turns on his side facing you. You try to ignore his gaze that’s burning a hole in the side of your head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The hurt in his voice made you wince. Turning to look at Ruhn your heart breaks at the frown on his lips, his usual brilliant blue eyes dim. You reach out to gently stroke his face. “I’m sorry.” You whisper. “I was going to but then I got nervous. Then my mind was telling me you wouldn’t like it, so I don’t know.”

“Baby how could I ever hate anything you do? You’re perfect to me.” You give him a small smile, cuddling into his side. “Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Ruhn hugged you tighter to his chest rubbing your back. “It’s ok baby.”

The next morning you had made the stress inducing decision to invite Ruhn and your friends to see Ilogically Hotter at the White Raven. You spent the afternoon practicing with the girls trying not to worry about Ruhn watching you play drums and sing.

You did have to take a break at one point becuase of how stressed you got. Becca ran you to the bathroom because you thought you were going to vomit. After Becca calmed you down and got food in your stomach you felt better.

Laurel and Vesper were getting pumped when you finally came out of the empty back office the band uses as a dressing room. "Are you ready y/n!" "Yeah!" You shook out your arms then teh rest of your body to dispel your nerves. Taking a deep breath you decide to let go and pretend Ruhn and all your freinds are not in the audience watching you.

Vesper dragged you into the group huddle to do your little chant that she decided was now the pre-show ritual.

No turning back now.

Ruhn was picking at his fingers in anticipation. He decided it would be best to stay at a table on the edge of the crowd so you wouldn't be too nervous seeing him. But he was excited. The energy from the crowd wass electric.

He swore he heard a few people say that they came back to see you guys again. That made Ruhn smile. Gods how could you keep this from him?

Bryce grabbed at his fingers pressing them against the hardwood table. "Stop that." She said sternly, raising a brow at him. "Sorry, I'm just nervous."

"Don't be." Dec said plopping drinks down on the table. "They're going to be great. Y/n is going to be great. And no matter what you'll support her." Ruhn nodded at his friend as the spot lights started to strobe. The rest of the group huddled around the table taking a drink.

Ruhn didn't take his eyes off the stage for a second. He was too enamoured by you. How you whipped your hair around as you bounced around in your sweet. The prince even made sure to listen to your background vocals. It was rare that you sang in front of him so he was going to cherish this moment.

When the hour long set was done Ruhn raced to find you. He needed to tell you how amazing you were or he felt like he was going to explode.

You were happily screaming with the girls over another successful gig when you sensed Ruhn coming. You looked over your shoulder just in time to see him push the curtain back. You gave him a huge smile that he returned as you both ran at each other.

You launched yourself into his open arms and Ruhn spun you around. Putting you down he held your shoulders to jokingly shake you. "Wow, wow, wow! I didn't know you were so talented! All of you." You stare into his bright eyes, twinkling with happiness and admiration. "Really?" "Yes really!" He pulled you into another bone crushing hug leaving a kiss on your sweaty head.

For the first time in a long time you felt truly like yourself. The fact that Ruhn was not only embracing this side of you, but fully supporting you was more than you could ask for.

tags: @callmeblaire

#crescent city imagine #crescent city fanfic #crescent city #crescent city x reader #crescent city fluff #crescent city fanfiction #ruhn crescent city #ruhn x you #ruhn x reader #ruhn danaan x you #ruhn danaan x reader #ruhn danaan #prince ruhn danaan

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fantasy-mixtapes · 1 month

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Fig Faeth Junior Year Playlist: Side A

It's no surprise that Fig Faeth's playlist is the one that I actually listen to the most. It's just a very good vibe and I love her. Took extra time to Song descriptions and thoughts down below. Spoilers for Episodes 1-10.

Genres included: Pop-punk, Punk, Alternative

1. hair out, Stand Atlantic

Am I fuckin' up my life? I'm just tryna make improvements Slowly givin' up the fight But I gotta cover up the bruise That I get from all the Expectations give me vertigo Wasting away to the pressure The pressure, The pressure, oh

This song is such an earworm, scratching a specific itch in my brain. Love the fact that both Kristen and Fig (the failing girlies) start with a Stand Atlantic song, and it works with the way that Fig is coming at this season. From the jump, she is one of the most visibly and audibly burnt out, specifically from the pressure of the "sophomore album" that was supposed to come out months ago. This song is definitely about the pressures of a songwriter as well as the pressures of life in general so it fits sooooo perfectly. Especially with the "I can already here people hating the song" outro *chefs kiss*

2. Who The Hell Am I?, NOBRO

God, I'm tired of being like this I can change, but in a minute Always looking for the back door, on the run Always at the party, never quite having fun Play with fire, and you're gonna get burned I'm on fire, and you know it hurts I was always on the outside looking in Maybe it's me 'cause I never wanna fit in

Fig's class struggles, her conversation with Mazey, I can't take it. I feel like we've all been there. I really love how the narrative with her has progressed, like last season was deconstructing her need to mold herself into other people (or into an idealized version of herself) now she's trying to figure out who she is at her core without all the disguises.

3. 7 Years Bad Luck, Glasseater

Something strange seems to be plaguing me Everything I touch falls apart I've lost it all, losing all my luck Suffering 7 years bad luck

I don't particularly love this song, a little too unintentionally underproduced, but it deserves a spot on this playlist. I feel like I would be Fig in the curse situation. It took me a literal year to deal with debilitating stomach problems, and I, too, waited until my friends noticed to actually do something about it. Either way, can't wait to learn more about the weird Galier Pride curse, love the representation for my stomach problem girlies

4. Where the Heart Is, Sweet Pill

Get this My mind's been in a million places but my body hasn't moved an inch And I feel like I'm missing out again Ignoring my plans Wondering how they went Feeling bad about it If I could just take a chance I wouldn't feel so bad To see past myself I wouldn't feel so bad

This is Fig's final decision to try Paladin after doing so well with Warlock. She knows the priorities in her gut don't match with what anyone else says, but she's discovering her loyalty. She's figuring out her actual drive... following her heart <3

5. Impostor Syndrome, Sidney Gish

Unfortunately, I am My own dog, my own fur companion My own old lady on a forum Who types in glittery decorum Unfortunately, I take Myself out walking every day and I had my legs to the feet and I give my head to the leash

Making Fantasy High playlists is like making a ven diagram of which dog-themed songs are Tracker-coded and which are Fig-coded. This one, to me at least, is Fig-coded. (yes, I do have a tracker playlist, and yes, every song in it is dog/wolf specific, BUT THEY'RE GOOD OK). We love our Oath/Pact of the German Shepard.

6. You Owe Me Nothing In Return, Alanis Morissette

I'll give you countless amounts of outright Acceptance if you want it I will give you encouragement to chose The path you want if you need it You can speak of anger and doubts Your fears and freak outs And I'll hold it

So I know that we're gearing up for Fig's Warlock/Paladin agreement post "mooner yulenear," but this is my interpretation of what it's going to look like. She cares about her friends, and she would do anything for them! And though I know this song came out in 2002, Alanis Morissette is a 90's icon and perfect for the grungy riot grrrl vibe I see for her

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #d20 #d20 fhsy #spotify #fantasy mixtapes #fig faeth #d20 fig #fhjy spoilers #d20 spoilers #emily axford #Spotify

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theharddeck · 2 years

Text

my forever, every day (rooster x reader)

Pairing: rooster x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: rooster and his girlfriend get sidetracked on a drive down PCH.

Warnings: 18+, minors please DNI, swearing, sex, oral sex (m receiving), squint-and-you-miss it rank kink, also praise kinks bc of who i am as a person...anything else, y'all lmk

Length: 4.9k

the title is a lyric from bronco, by the driver era . this one was written for @jadore-andor (happy birthday, my dear!!) and tagging my loves @peakyrogers @winterrebel04 @blue-aconite 💙

Bradley’s unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt flapped around his shoulders and your hair blew around your face as you leaned back into your seat after turning up the volume on the old radio. The heavy bass provided the perfect driving music as the Bronco rolled down the 101, and you hummed along as the winding freeway took you south.

It had been the perfect day off.

You’d both gotten a little more sun than you probably should’ve, and there was sand all over the floorboards, but it had been an absolutely perfect day off. Breakfast tacos, then lazing around on a beach in San Clemente, then an ice cream from the shop at the end of the pier and now driving back down to San Diego in your swimsuits while the sun sank over the ocean—what more could a girl ask for?

The bass faded and when you heard the first notes of the next song, you recognized it, too. You looked at Bradley suspiciously; normally, his music tastes skewed much more Indie Rock than Pop Punk, and the last four or five songs had been much more your speed than his.

“Bradley?” you asked.

“Yeah, gorgeous?” He looked over at you, raising an eyebrow.

“I love all of these songs,” you said, and it wasn’t really a question, as much as it was a request for an explanation.

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Bradley said. His hand slipped down the wheel to flip on his turn signal, while keeping his other arm stretched over the back of the bench seat.

You waited for him to finish merging lanes before you asked, “What do you mean?”

Bradley glanced over at you, then leaned forward to grab his phone, connected through an adapter to a cable to the cassette tape that would let his phone play music through the vintage console. On his screen, you saw a Spotify playlist, simply titled: “For Gorgeous 🖤”.

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at it, then back up at your boyfriend, his eyes on the road. Behind his sunglasses, you could see them flicking to you, not like he was nervous, but like he was gauging your reaction.

“You made me a playlist?” you asked.

“I mean,” Bradley said, shifting in his seat, “it’s not, like, a big deal. You just were so excited for your day off, and this perfect beach day that you wanted, so I thought it’d be good to end it with music you like.”

You scrolled through the playlist, recognizing most of the songs as titles you’d either shared with accompanying stories, or songs that were a part of memories the two of you shared.

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you said fondly, setting his phone back in the cupholder, next to the empty ice cream cup from the pier. “The old school romantic.”

He scoffed, pushing up his sunglasses again, and the hand that was over the back of the bench seat flicked down to tug lightly on your hair. You wrinkled your nose, reaching up to grab his hand and pull it into your lap. You wove your fingers between his, your free hand tracing over the veins on the back of his hand.

You lifted his hand, after a moment, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, before settling it back in your lap.

“Thank you,” you told him. “Today was wonderful.”

Bradley squeezed your hand, his fingers brushing the tops of your thighs against where you held him.

“Of course, honey,” he said.

The song ran out and you went back to playing with his hands. You loved his hands, you were a simple girl like that, and his were enormous. Broad fingers, calloused palms, and always warm, always available to you.

The next song picked up, and you frowned for a moment, before you recognized it.

A memory flashed through your head—your blue sundress pushed up to around your hips, Bradley’s jacket on the floor of the bathroom of The Hard Deck, the lock digging into your back as your boyfriend lost himself between your thighs. Him whispering into your cunt that he couldn’t wait until he could take you home, he’d do this better later, that you tasted better than he could’ve imagined, and holding you on the brink of orgasm until the rest of the bar sang along with the guitar riff, covering your keening moans when you finally came apart on his tongue.

In the present moment, you looked over at Bradley, unsure if that’s why this was included on the list, to see a spot of color on his cheeks, his hand tightly clutching the steering wheel. The hand you still held was deliberately loose, but every other inch of him was radiating tension, and you’d place money on the fact that the same memory was running through his mind.

You tried to keep a laugh out of your voice when you asked him, “You didn’t think this through, did you?”

“Shut up,” Bradley muttered without malice, shifting in his seat.

You bit your lip to hide a grin, and continued to watch his growing discomfort. His wide shoulders were tense, and he lifted one of his knees to hold the wheel steady while he wiped his palm on the front of his board shorts.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bradley said, without looking at you to confirm what expression you wore. You pressed your lips together to trap a giggle, before looking deliberately out the window, giving him a break.

The sun sank into the horizon and the world slipped into the blue haze of twilight as the song played out. Another one came on, something soft and sweet, and you started tracing Bradley’s hand again. This song was one that had gotten you through his last deployment, one you’d looped while you cleaned the empty apartment, or rereading his last emails. Bradley’s thumb rubbed against your palm comfortingly, and you knew he knew.

The lights flipped on on the side of the road, soft circles of light cutting through the blue haze of the evening, as the guitar strings faded. Another song picked up, a beat set by a bass, and unfamiliar lyrics. You frowned, looking back at your boyfriend.

“What’s this one from?” you asked.

Bradley lifted a shoulder noncommittally, focusing on the road. “Dunno,” he said, “just made me think of you.”

You hummed in acceptance, listening to the lyrics. It wasn’t an indictment or a compliment, and you leaned across the seat to take Bradley’s glasses off his nose as the night got darker.

“You don’t need these anymore, do you?” you asked, sliding them into your hair to hold it out of your face.

Bradley squinted on principle, but didn’t fight it as you stole his aviators to use as a headband. You looked out the front of the car, at the tail lights ahead of you flickering on, and you felt him watching you.

“What?” you asked, looking back to meet him. Even in the dim light, you could make out the deep brown of his eyes, flitting between the road and watching you.

After a long moment, he cleared his throat.

“You really don’t remember this song?” he asked. His voice was low, curious, like he held a secret, not like he was disappointed, so you answered honestly and shook your head.

Bradley nodded, then the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “Guess I’d better remind you, then,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Wait, I thought it wasn’t—”

Bradley leaned a little to the side, looking under your lowered visor at a sign flashing by on the roadside.

“Hold on, gorgeous,” he said, reaching over briefly to tug on your safety belt, before throwing the Bronco into a lower gear, slamming on the brakes, and turning off the 101.

You squeaked as the truck pitched to the side, reeling into an overnight campsite off the beach. It was one of those that you got access to via a statewide membership, and Bradley kept the car registered in case he and the guys wanted to go on a trip; tonight it meant he could just wave authoritatively to the park ranger in the box, and drive you guys through.

“What the hell, Rooster,” you gasped at his impulsiveness, but he was silent as he drove to the back of the lot. The car lurched to a stop and he was out of it before it fully stopped moving, his long legs eating up the distance from the driver’s side to the passenger’s door. He yanked open your door, reached around you to undo your safety belt, and pulled you to the edge of your seat. With one massive hand, Bradley spread your legs, settling between them, and he wound his other hand through your hair, tilting your head back to kiss you hungrily.

You whimpered in surprise and Bradley took advantage of your parted lips to deepen the kiss. He kissed you like he did everything to you—with measured intensity, determined thoroughness, and sweet honesty. His lips were soft, knowing the perfect pressure and pull to tempt you deeper into his arms, and on his breath you tasted the cherry chocolate of the ice cream you’d split back in San Clemente.

Your arms wound around his neck, pulling you nearly out of the Bronco and against your boyfriend’s tall frame and he made a sound of approval deep in his throat. You felt it through his chest, and the hand in your hair pulled his aviators out of them before he ran his fingers slid down the exposed skin of your back, skimming over the ties that held your bikini top up.

When Bradley pulled back a breath, you were both panting, lips swollen, a little drunk chasing the taste of each other.

“You still don’t remember?” Bradley asked, his voice low, rough, the rasp of it sending a tremor through you.

You shook your head and Bradley’s eyes darkened, even as he smiled.

“Backseat, sweet girl,” Bradley said, stepping back out of your space, but you still felt his touch all over your skin. “Now.”

And, what, were you gonna say no to that?

You kicked off your sandals, leaving them in the front seat as you slipped under Bradley’s arm, and into the door he opened to the backseat of his car.

You heard Bradley chuckling at your haste as he followed behind you, pulling the door shut and then hauling you into his lap by your thighs.

You landed gracelessly, straddling him in the hunched space, and a moment later, his mouth found yours as he kissed you again. It was different like this, just as delicious but closer. Thighs over each other, stomachs against one another, limbs cramped in the tight space as you scrambled for purchase in each others’ bodies. Yours settled on Bradley’s shoulders, and you could feel his strong arms shifting, running over you, and then gone. You pulled back questioningly when Bradley’s hands lifted from your skin, to find him hastily shrugging out of his Hawaiian shirt.

“Presumptive,” you teased him, leaning in to kiss his neck while he tried to pull the shirt out from where it was trapped between him and the seat. You felt his chest constrict when your lips brushed against his pulse point and he yanked the shirt out from behind him sharply.

You expected him to toss it to the side, but instead, he fixed the garment around your shoulders, feeding your arms through it and buttoning one of the buttons across your chest. It was the opposite of what you expected from him, but when Bradley seemed satisfied, he surged towards you again, kissing you deeply. As his lips moved over yours, you felt his hands smooth over your skin, reaching under his shirt to untie your bikini.

Now that made more sense.

A couple quick tugs later, and your bikini fell to the floor of the Bronco; you broke away from Bradley’s mouth with a gasp when his warm palms came up to cup your breasts.

“Presumptive, she says,” he muttered against your lips, kissing you almost harshly. “I think you meant ‘possessive’, gorgeous.”

His thumbs brushed over your nipples, teasing them into hardened points against his calloused fingers and the loose brush of his shirt. You squirmed in his lap, his words reminding you just how exposed you were.

“Babe, do you think—” you started, and he interrupted you with another kiss, with another pinch under his shirt.

“You think I’m gonna let anyone else see my girl?” he asked, his grip on you tightening.

His possessiveness sent another bolt of desire through you, and you leaned into his touch, pressing yourself into him. Bradley seemed more than happy with the motion, his fingers working over you and his lips latching onto your neck again.

When he grazed your skin with his teeth, your hips bucked into him, and you both moaned at the contact. You were both still in your swimsuits, but you could feel the outline of Bradley’s cock against your thigh, through the thin material of his swimsuit. One of Bradley’s hands fell to your hip, helping to guide your motion as you moved over his thigh. His legs were so thick, strong under you and tensed like this, and the dragging movement rubbed your swimsuit against your core, and Bradley let out a long breath as you moved over him.

“That’s it, honey, feels good, doesn’t it?”

You pressed your lips together, nodding, your hands coming to rest on his stomach. You could feel how tightly he was clenched, wound, just letting you use his body to seek your own relief. This man, this enormous, powerful man, letting you rut against him just because it felt good.

“Ah, sweetheart, you’re so beautiful,” Bradley whispered, and when you looked up, he was watching you closely. His head was back against the headrest, and his eyes were hooded as his hands guided your movement, admiration shining in them. “You have me feeling like a damn teenager, not waiting till we get home because I need to feel my pussy before then.”

You whimpered at the crude way he described you as his, but you rocked your hips again and it was true. You were his, entirely and completely, and you were needy.

“Babe,” you whispered, your voice thin as you rocked against him, needing more.

“I’m here, gorgeous,” Bradley told you, and one of his hands lifted to slip inside of your swimsuit. You looked down, couldn’t help yourself, moaning at the sight of his thick wrist against your stomach, his big hand stretching the black material of your swimsuit.

Your body jolted when he dragged a finger through your folds, and Bradley moaned when he felt the wetness gathered there. You were scratching him, your nails scrambling for purchase against his skin, as his finger pulled your arousal from between your thighs to rub over your clit. He felt so good, heavenly, unhurried and overwhelming and Bradley continued to guide your hips over him with the hand on your thigh. The slow motion dragged you against his finger, and he shifted his wrist to keep a finger against your clit but reach between your legs to push two fingers into your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you moaned at the intrusion, the stretch another kind of overwhelming, and you felt Bradley still.

“You know better than that, sweet girl,” Bradley said, his voice low. “What do you say when I’m between your legs?”

“Bradley,” you whimpered, your hips rocking, trying to get his fingers deeper inside of you, but his hand remained frozen.

“Say my name like you mean it, honey,” he said slowly, moving his wrist again, repositioning.

“Bradley,” you all but sobbed, needing friction, needing something, needing more of him, “please, baby, please, I need to—Bradley–”

“That’s better, gorgeous,” he said approvingly, and then he shoved a third finger into you.

Your thighs jerked, hips automatically pushing away from the intrusion, but Bradley held you steady, not waiting for you to adjust before his fingers were moving inside of you.

You moaned as his long fingers reached deep into you, and you heard Bradley laughing quietly to himself as he leaned forward to kiss the curve of your jaw gently. The soft pressure of his lips was a wild juxtaposition to the merciless stretch of his fingers, and you writhed over him, desperate. His fingers curled inside of you, his thumb pressing steadily on your clit, and you ground against his hand, wildly chasing your pleasure.

“So pretty,” Bradley murmured. “Such a pretty pussy, taking my fingers so well. You know you have to, have to stretch her out so my cock will fit.”

You moaned, nodding dazedly, your hand falling to his swim trunks to find the cock in question.

Fuck, he was so hard.

Just from your pleasure, just from the press of your body against his; you moaned as you slid your hand over the length of him. Bradley let out a choked breath when you squeezed him over his trunks, and then he let go of your hip to brace himself, lifting you and his hips so you could slide the trunks down his thighs, and you couldn’t help the whine that escaped out of you.

He was so fucking strong, and when he sank back down, his cock bobbed in his lap, and you reached for him eagerly. Bradley moaned when your hand closed over him, warm skin against warm skin, and when you looked up at him, he licked his lips, his mouth slightly agape, watching you.

“You gonna jerk me off, honey?” he asked, his voice rough. “Work that cock up to fill you, while I stretch my pussy out to take me?”

You whimpered, bringing your hand up to your mouth to spit on it, before sliding your hand over his cock. A bit of precum was already leaking out of the tip, and Bradley swore softly when your thumb reached up to grab the pearl of moisture, mixing it with your spit as you worked over him.

You would never get tired of the sounds your boyfriend made.

He was never shy about talking to you, telling you what he wanted, how hot you made him, but it was his moans and groans that got you off. You loved when he sounded undone, knowing you were the one pulling those gorgeous sounds out of him, and you tightened your grip around his dick as you worked over him.

“Fuck, sweet girl,” Bradley groaned in response, his head dropping to your shoulder. He curled his fingers inside you, and you whined when he realized he was matching his movements with your hand over his cock.

“What do you think, gorgeous,” he asked gruffly. “You think you’re ready for me?”

You licked your lips, looking down at the length of him in your hand, swelling larger with every pull of your hand over him. You were never really ready, not before an orgasm, but you wanted to be stretched over him, more than you wanted to be ready.

“Please, Bradley,” you nodded, rising up on your thighs for Bradley to undo the strings of your bikini bottoms as well. It joined the top on the floorboards of the Bronco, and Bradley hummed to himself as he took you in, wearing only his shirt, rutting against his thigh and working his cock in your hand.

“Love you so much, sweet girl,” he said quietly, and your heart clenched at his soft admission, in the middle of a frenzied pitch.

“Love you too, Bradley,” you whispered. You leaned in to kiss him quickly, settling back down on his thighs, and pulling your hand over his cock again. “So are you gonna fuck me about it?”

Bradley’s eyes fluttered as your grip tightened and your words settled over him. When he opened them, you could barely see the brown of his irises, his eyes were blown wide.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, and then he batted your hand away, lifted your hips and impaled you on his cock.

You didn’t mean to scream.

But his thrust pushed all the air out of you, and all you could think was him, Bradley, Bradley, and you realized you were moaning it aloud, like a prayer.

“You’re so fucking tight, gorgeous,” Bradley gritted, his hands smoothing over your shoulders, his voice tight as he held himself still, waiting for you to adjust.

Not like you could do a damn thing.

Your body felt like it was on fire, full and stretched and absolutely alight with desire, every inch of you pulsing for him. You needed him to move, you needed to adjust, you needed him, that was what you knew.

“You’re doing so good for me, sweet girl,” Bradley whispered, one of his hands coming up to pet your hair. You lowered your head to his shoulder, feeling molten, past numb, like being draped over him was the only way you wanted to stay forever.

Bradley was still running his hands over you, and you could feel his breath coming in measured pulls, as he tightly held onto control.

After a couple more moments, you felt a little more grounded, more adjusted. You became aware of the way your shaky breathing was echoing around the car, the windows fogged like Titanic, your sweet boyfriend holding himself in check until you told him you were okay.

“Bradley?” you asked weakly, reaching up slowly to cup the back of his head, even though you still didn’t feel like you could lift your head.

“Yeah, gorgeous,” he breathed, and your heart swelled at the care in his voice.

“I want to feel you, babe,” you told him, and you felt a shiver work through his body.

“Thank fuck,” he groaned.

He rocked up into you, a broken cry easing out of you as he pushed even deeper, your thighs widening to accommodate him.

“That’s it, sweet thing,” Bradley moaned, and he pulled out before thrusting into you.

The drag of him was absolutely heaven, thick and rough and reaching that deep part of you that only he could. You moaned as he set a rhythm against you, his strong thighs flexing to drive up into you, splitting you, completing you.

“Baby, it’s so good, you’re so good, you feel—fuck, baby,” you babbled, and Bradley groaned.

He guided your hand farther up his scalp, twining your fingers into his hair and you pulled slightly. His hips thrust harder and you whined at the ferocity of it, the perfection of it.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Bradley groaned, “taking me like you were fucking made for it, moaning on my cock like it’s all you wanted.”

In that moment, you weren’t sure if it wasn’t.

The whole world was this Bronco, wrapped in your boyfriend’s arms, feeling him pushing into you, the air thick with both of your sweat and sex and the moans you couldn’t stop from pouring out of you.

Bradley drove up into you, and his hands fell back to your hips, guiding your movement against him. At the top of your stroke, your pelvis pressed against his and your clit rubbed against him, and it sent white heat curling through your body. You were gasping and writhing and each sound you made seemed only to spur your boyfriend on, as he drove you higher. His thrusts were slowing, hitting deeper, and you felt your legs start trembling at the intensity.

“Are you close, baby?” he asked, almost growled, his voice close to your ear. “Tell me you’re close, gorgeous, you feel so tight, and I can’t—”

“Yes, shit, Bradley, I’m so close,” you moaned, your body pulsing, begging, trembling.

“Give it to me, baby,” Bradley ordered, his voice sharp in your ear, his thrusts unrelenting, as your legs drew up, involuntarily. “Come on this cock, baby, let me feel it, let me feel you–”

You came with a wail, your climax crashing over you like a wave that sent you tumbling. You might’ve choked, you might’ve cried, all you knew was the white hot heat pulsing through your body, leaving you limbless and sated in its wake.

You came back slowly, the darkness of night seeping in through the fogged windows of the Bronco, and you became aware of your boyfriend slowly moving your hips still, working you over him, coaxing you through it.

“Bradley,” you whimpered into his neck, and you felt his chest expand.

“You did so good for me, sweet girl,” he said, his voice soft, just on this side of undone, “so fucking good.”

“Baby…” you chided him gently as understanding dawned that he still hadn’t come yet. You moved your hips slightly, and Bradley’s hands held you in place sternly.

“Gorgeous, I’m so fucking close, but you were so sensitive, just give me a—”

Summoning strength you didn’t have and ignoring Bradley’s futile protests, you slid off of him, swallowing a moan when you felt wetness drip down your thighs as you moved. There wasn’t a ton of room in the backseat, but there was enough that you could lower yourself to the floorboards between your boyfriend’s knees, look up at him through sated eyes, and open your mouth, holding out your tongue.

“Fucking hell,” Bradley breathed, and you would’ve smirked, but what you wanted more than anything was to make him come.

So you leaned forward, tongue teasing just the tip of him, before you opened your jaw and took Bradley’s cock in your mouth.

He hit the ceiling of the Bronco, a stream of curses ripping from his lips as your mouth closed around him, humming slightly. Fuck, the weight of him. He was so broad, fat and thick in your mouth, and you tasted yourself on him, tasted how thoroughly he had fucked you, and you couldn’t help but moan around him.

“Baby, baby,” Bradley groaned, his thighs flexing as he held himself back. “Baby, I’m too close, I can’t be gentle—”

You pulled back with a pop, a stream of saliva falling from his cock to your mouth, and Bradley let out a sound that was almost a whine. That pretty sound had you reaching between your legs, brushing your fingers over your still sensitive core, just at how good he sounded.

“Fuck my mouth, Lieutenant,” you told him, and his eyes fluttered, before you added, “Please.”

His head fell back against the headrest and he groaned, a sound that went straight to your core. You took him back in your mouth, your tongue tracing the underside of his cock, and you felt a large hand settle at the back of your neck.

You whimpered when Bradley gathered the hair there, and started to guide you. Your eyes fell closed and you loosened your jaw, surrendering to the act of it. Yes, you were on your knees and it was your mouth around his dick, but the sounds pouring out of Bradley, the stern hand he kept on the back of your head, it felt like he was worshiping you.

He was so heavy on your tongue, and it was sloppy, but when Bradley started pushing your head faster, you worked your hand faster between your legs. He sounded so good, he tasted so good, and when you moaned you couldn’t have said if it was from the way he was pulling your hair, the building pressure between your thighs, or how good he tasted.

“You’re fucking perfect, gorgeous,” Bradley groaned. “Are you going to come again when I come? Is my pussy going to come for me, on my girl’s fingers while I fuck her mouth?”

You gagged, tears streaming down your face, and when Bradley moaned your name on a final curse and came down your throat, you climaxed on your fingers like he’d said.

Bradley’s thighs were shaking as he pumped down your throat, his hand in your hair smoothing over your hair and then curling under the back of your neck to haul you back up to his lap. Your limbs were shaking from your second orgasm, lungs heaving from how he’d choked you on his cock. Bradley dragged his lips over you, whispering praises and pressing kisses to everywhere he could reach, just shy of delirious.

You could relate.

The Bronco was steamy and humid, and it felt like your own little world. A sphere where the only thing that mattered was your sweet boyfriend, the honest perfection you found in each other, and the strength to care for each other even when you couldn’t explain it.

Eventually, Bradley carded his fingers through your hair, and pulled his swimsuit back up. He left yours on the floor, and buttoned his shirt over you carefully, continuing to finger comb your hair.

When you drove out of the campsite, the ranger avoided both of your eyes.

As you turned back onto the 101, Bradley kept your hand in his, driving with his knees when he needed to change gears. The music picked up again as you drove on, and, remembering, you turned to him.

“So, what was that song?” you asked, still uncertain.

In the moonlight, your boyfriend smiled, his eyes flashing as he lifted your hand to his mouth to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“Don’t you remember, gorgeous?” he asked, voice still low. “That song was playing the time we pulled off the 101 so I could fuck you in the back of my Bronco.”

#rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster smut #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #misskielwrites #theharddecksgrandopening

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shinyopal · 1 year

Text

random mys headcanons that have nothing to do with anything (mostly garroth and laurance tbh)

Garroth doesn’t like carrots

Laurance can’t skate

kc/nana did roller derby

Laurance has a belly button piercing (cadenza did it one night in the middle of his grade 11 year bc they were bored)

no one knew about the piercing, including garroth, for a long time, and garroth found out first anyways

Garroth found out bc his shirt rode up or he was wearing a crop top (idk which) when they were hanging out outside of school one day

dante hates socks

zane loves them

nana likes toe socks

vylad doesng like shoes and would be barefoot all the time if he could be

aphmau HATES pants but wears them anyways

vylad did figure skating before he transitioned

travis did gymnastics

Laurance is like 5’9

Garroth is like 6’2 or 6’3

sometimes the higher difference flusters laurance even if it isn’t much

when aph is being feral garroth just picks her up and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes

laurance swears like a sailor

Laurance has heterchromia but i’ve already spread my propaganda about that

Laur and Gar went to prom together “as friends” but both were like ‘omg it’s like a date’

Garroth listens to pop-punk music (Zane showed it to him originally and he just ended up really liking it)

He also makes people playlists, but not of their music tastes, he makes them based on songs he likes that reminds him of them

Laurance got a CD for his birthday one year

Laurance smoked in highschool but quit early-mid university

Garroth and vylad LOVE spice

zane can’t handle it

nana likes spice too

aaron prefers sweets but gets hot sauce as gifts (he sneaks it into nanas cupboard)

aph has a full length mirror in her room bc she likes to sing and dance into it like she’s in a movie

Laurance did the rice purity test and got higher than everyone thought he would (other than garroth bc they’ve told each other everything since like grade ten)

Laurance has very feint freckles that you can only see when you’re very close to his face

Garroth loves his freckles

Laurance likes mug rootbeer

he can also do the thing where you take the bottlecap off using his shirt

garroth and laurance wait for each other after practice in highschool

zane and vylad go to every game garroth has that they can make it to because their parents don’t care enough to go (i’m a bad ro’meave parents truther)

zane has a shellfish allergy

vylad has celiacs

katelyn is lactose intolerant

katelyn is also v buff

garroth does ballet in his free time

aaron has a very big dog (like a newfoundland) and his name is rug

dante is epileptic bc i am and i said so

laur calls like everyone baby girl or something (he calls garroth baby boy sometimes and it makes him go beet red)

zane is a bluey enjoyer

i have so many more pls ask me about my random headcanons, i also have less random ones and ones that interlace but that’s for another post

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bsaka7 · 1 month

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tagged to post my 9 favourite album with commentary by @mathewbaldzal !!!! we r two peas in a pod i think with having a lot to say about some tunes...

in no particular order...

different class (1995) - pulp. this is not my no1 album of all time because i don't have a favorite album of all time, but this album is in part representative of "getting into music" to me. i love 90s britpop, whatever that means for a random american and this is my fav of em all (though i do actually quite rate this is hardcore in pulp's discography). "common people" is one of the songs of ALL TIME. god jarvis's little sing-song sleazyness gets me. really, really, really great classic performance of it at glasto 1995...for some reason "pencil skirt" also always really hits.

home video (2021) - lucy dacus. the newest album on this list by a long shot, but it's had songs in my top5 year end lists since it came out. i've also seen lucy live <3. this album rises above some of the others in similar company (punisher - phoebe bridgers, the boygenius ep, etc) because i never get tired of it. "first time" "hot & heavy" "brando" and "triple dog dare" are nearly always standbys in my listening history. probably gonna be an album-i-listened-to-in-college classic forever...

songs of love and hate (1971) - leonard cohen. maybe none of my favorite leonard cohen songs are on this album, but as a single work, this album stuns me. possibly the most transfixing 44:21 i've ever heard. his lyricism in particular is -- i can't even describe it. the mix with his voice, the sparseness of the instrumentation at time, the harmonies. i'm not a big stories guy but in this, yeah, the songwriting, the stories. i don't think there's another album like this one out there, really.

if you're feeling sinister (1998) - belle & sebastian. the first time i heard this album, i thought i had never heard an album so perfect. i love songs off of it but i nearly always listen to it whole. i love, love, love b&s's early sound (twee, if you will), and stuart murdoch's lyrics really, really shine. this is one of my favorite albums to listen to when i have a headache because it's lovely to just, focus on but not grating at all. i really love "judy and the dream of horses" and "get me away from here i'm dying". really, a beautiful work

rumours (1977) - fleetwood mac. i was sort of scrolling through some of my playlists trying to decide what to put on this list (it's a bit weighted towards stuff that's in rotation now) and i couldn't leave off fleetwood mac (in part to represent the huge part of my music taste that is like. classics 1965-1980). stevie nicks was one of my earlier music obsessions (the OG was the beatles). so many wonderful songs and riffs. i know this was left off the original 12-inch but "silver springs" is one of my favorite songs forever and ever and ever...

nebraska (1982) - bruce springsteen. when it comes down to it, this is my favorite springsteen album. i do think his 1975-1987 run of albums is pretty much perfect but nebraska is a masterpiece in a way that i find hard to express in words. there's a sense of sparseness and distance in this work (in part bc of how it was recorded) that i find so utterly compelling i can't even describe. "nebraska" - especially this 1984 live version - is a perfect song to me. perfect. i also like a lot of the stuff that went into inspiring this album (notably flannery o'connor) and well. where it fits into springsteen's narritivization of his own life (dude was in the dumps).

all killer, no filler (2001) - sum41. this pick is a little bit representative of the era of my life where i basically exclusively listened to pop punk but if songs of love and hate is an album that's perfectly drawn out, this is an album that's perfectly compressed. like, the title is correct. this album is fucking TIGHT. i used to listen to it at a job i hated to make the 30-min intervals go by. and it's got such classics...."fat lip"..."motivation..." of course, "in too deep." SO good.

what did you expect from the vaccines? (2011) - the vaccines. maybe this pick is a tiny bit cheesy but it is a perfect encapsulation of the era of alt rock it came from. which i love. i really like the vaccines, i think they're super fun and i did see them in concert finally and they totally lived up to that. "wetsuit" is again...one of my favorite songs of all time. "if you wanna" is a perpetual banger.

age of consent (1983) - new order. again, an album that deserves to be listened to whole, despite how good "age of consent" hits alone ever single time. sometimes i think i like another new order album more than this, but i don't. sumner's voice just out-of-tune ringing out over that sound, that new order sound, the bass, that post-punk club vibe. they're a band that don't sound like anyone else, and this is the album most indicative of that. wow, every time.

a few narrow misses

boxer (2007) - the national. i didn't get the national until one day i did. "slow show." my god. hello.

very (1993) - pet shop boys. it's too simple to say this is an album about gay love because it's so embedded in it's context but. this is an album with so much love. psb are brilliant.

the execution of all things (2002) - rilo kiley. jenny lewis CALL ME. also like. you know "a better son/daughter". there's more.

a thousand suns (2010) - linkin park. i used to listen to this at 6th grade cross-country practice. first band i ever got into on my own. idk.

this is not only my favorite albums but a pretty decent summation of the broad strokes my overall taste. thank you again for the tag!! i enjoyed doing this a lot :). idk who has done this/on what blogs so if u have PLEASEEEEE send it to me i want to see!! i tag @lfcrobbo @upthebrackets @girlfriendline @odegoob @amandaleveille @thelittlebirdthatkeptsomanywarm @kritischetheologie @bright-and-burning @a-corn-field if any of u want to but no presh!!!

#i HAVE been listening to albums off some of these that i've seen ppl do (sez i've only listened to wisecrack but more of urs r on my list)#and there have been notable instances of me falling in LOVE with albums off things like these others have done (c mentioning the midnight #organ fight and passive me aggressive you which have become mainstays for me lol)#SO like always if u wanna chat about music or rec me things i'm so here lololol #shshshsh why did i think i had to tag 9 ppl i'm sitting there like oh gotta get 9 and then realized it's just however many u want.#well i want to know everything about all music taste ever so 9 it is...#tag game #yahooo!!!! <33333333333

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