Ok Um Marauders Band Au But It’s The 90’s And They All Go To A Creative Arts Boarding School And

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ oh he looks so cute, wrapped around my finger! ⋄ 𓍯

….IN WHICH: i made a fic based of espresso by sabrina carpenter/luke is WHIPPED.

tags/warnings: toothrotting fluff, luke & reader is mentioned to have exes, ‘she was like a shot of espresso,’ kinda short, not proofread, not in my usual format.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ sorry for not feeding yall for awhile i been busy asl☠️☠️!!!! my sister lowkey got hit by a car

—“now he’s thinkin’ about me every night.”

luke tossed and turned in the cabin, clearly getting on the nerves of the younger campers. he couldn’t help it, though. luke was never one to be able to sit still when giddy with excitement. y/n l/n was basically the only thing on his mind.

of course she was, she was on everyone’s mind. luke didn’t know what spell she cast on the boys at camp half-blood to make them look at her like olympus lost a god. y/n was like a shot of espresso to luke, she could wake up him at any time of night. just like now.

“jesus, luke. go to bed,” a younger camper complained with a huff. he mumbled a small sorry in response, trying to meditate himself to sleep. he’d felt quiet jealous of hypnos’ kids. maybe then—he’d be able to sleep.

—“too bad your ex don’t do it for ya!”

you were better than anyone else he’d ever have. anybody else wouldn’t compare, not in the slightest. his other exes seemed almost incompetent with you in his life.

they didn’t hold him the way you did, didn’t have him wrapped around your pretty fingers like you do. luke looked at the past with sympathy for his past self. ignorance is bliss. ignorance being, obviously, that he didn’t have the pleasure to call you his.

he didn’t know what you’d put in his coffee to make him love you like you personally paint the sunsets every evening.

luke couldn’t imagine himself with anyone else even if he tried. and, truthfully, neither could you. you can’t even fathom that you let anyone other than luke wrap their arms around you.

mutual love. but, of course, to him you were everything. his one and only.

—“oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger!”

“there goes your wife.” “wait, what? really?”

chris just meant to taunt him. a little bit of teasing between friends. he didn’t expect luke to almost get whiplash from how quick he turned his head to even catch a glimpse. the camp counsellor clicked his tongue, lightly shoving chris’ shoulder.

“that isn’t funny.” “well, i’m sorry, loverboy.” chris rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. he wanted to tell luke he currently sees you. but he knew he’d be shoved again. so he kept silent, listening to luke rant about his shitty sleep since his mind was racing.

luke felt your lips press against his cheek, a quiet ‘mwah’ sound being heard. you giggled at seeing his shocked expression, putting a hand on where you kissed. luke got a loopy grin on his face, looking you up and down.

“hi, luke.” “hey, hun,” he greeted, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. he kissed your temple gently, smiling slightly into the kiss.

chris took notice to the fact that luke’s slumped shoulders looked relaxed, his pinched brows were raised. he acted like he just downed a redbull the second you came around.

sad, beautiful, tragic

distance, timing, breakdown, fighting

silence, the train runs off its tracks

kiss me, try to fix it

could you just try to listen?

hang up, give up

and for the life of us, we can get back

peter parker x reader!!

(treacherous part 2)

PLOT - in which peter parker tries to talk to his rival after multiple drunk make out sessions the previous night.

WARNINGS - sexual references, no smut, make out scenes, allusions to sexual activity, weed, smoking, kiss and makeup attitude

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

“just talk to her, don’t be an arse” gwen smiled, swaying with the movement of the subway. the sun peeked through the windows as the train made its way out of a tunnel and closer to their destination.

“what exactly are you supposed to say to someone you made out with like, 3 times while drunk?? especially if you used to hate their guts”

“i don’t know, ‘sorry i hated you before, i just internalised my fetish for goth stoners as hatred- let’s make out some more’ or something-“ gwen joked, before being cut off by a frustrated peter.

“are you kidding me? she’s gonna spot us across the carriage any second now and i won’t have any idea what to say to her!”

y/n sat cross legged in her seat, reading some depressing book from the early 1900’s about some depressing characters, written by a depressed closeted gay man. she tucked a chunk of hair behind her ears before re-adjusting her headphones. “i bet she’s listening to fucking my chemical romance or korn or some shit,” peter chuckled as his eyebrows furrowed, gripping onto the hanging bars of the train carriage.

“nope, look on spotify,” gwen corrected. peter turned away from y/n to look over at gwen, his eyes drifting to the screen of her phone.

“it says she’s listening to… taylor swift?” she said, a confused expression painted on her face. peter jolted his head back in shock, overcome with anxiety. “aunt may loves taylor swift…” he murmured, the rustle of the train carriage pulling him away from gwen.

“let me see what song,” peter insisted as he gestured to see gwen’s phone. she passed it over to him, watching his face move as he read the title.

“sad, beautiful, tragic… i’m pretty sure that’s from red, right?” peter questioned. gwen shrugged her shoulders in response. “i don’t know. i’m more of a midnights and evermore type of girl” she replied. peter scrolled down to the lyrics of the song, his eyes widening and his lips pursing.

“gwen, i’m totally fucked”

y/n had slept on what had happened the previous night. spider-man saved her from getting robbed and gave her some very unhelpful advice. what the fuck would spider-man know anyways? he doesn’t get any bitches. y/n may have also ghosted peter, but who cares? y/n put her heart out on the table, for some reason expecting more from the person who constantly teased her everyday for 2 years. sure, she should’ve saw it coming, but she didn’t. which is why she was going to be as dramatic as possible.

this meant a new playlist. no more limp biskit; nobody cries to ‘break stuff’!! it was time to listen to the entire red album on repeat, along with ‘ultraviolence’ and elliott smith. y/n was fully ready to be a sad little bitch.

on monday morning, she scored a seat on the subways and started listening to her new playlist, putting on one particular taylor swift song on repeat while she read her sad little bitch book. she looked up for a split second to see peter and gwen talking.

‘oh, so he can make time to talk to gwen, but not the girl he snogged three times?’ y/n thought.

y/n turned up her volume and put away her book as she listened to the lyrics of the song. the train pulled up to the station within walking distance to her school and so she stood up. catching the eye of peter as she walked to the doors, she quickly averted her gaze and took a few steps back.

peter flinched at the sudden eye contact, turning his full body towards gwen. “gwen. do something” he anxiously muttered. gwen nodded, smiling innocently, before beginning to casually walk over to y/n.

“y/n! how’d that hangover treat you?” gwen asked, pulling in y/n for a comfortable hug. y/n smiled hesitantly and embraced the act of affection. “so, so badly,” she replied, thinking back to the incident that followed the day after the party.

“the hangover is the least of my troubles” she stated and she glanced over at peter, who was watching both of them. “oh, do you mean…” gwen asked as she gestured over to the lanky boy trailing behind them, walking onto the platform as the train doors opened.

“what? no! i was mugged,” y/n announced, arching her eyebrows. peter didn’t look surprised. y/n took note of this, feeling somewhat offended that he didn’t care.

“y/n! are you okay?? how did that happen?” gwen asked, completely and utterly shocked. peter walked over. “wait, yeah… are you okay y/n?” he asked, breaking out of his anxious state for one moment.

y/n sighed softly, rolling her eyes. “i’m fine, spider-man saved me and then gave me some very unhelpful advice.” she said as she pursed her lips, her eyes darting between gwen and peter. “he’s a total ride though- i hope he’s not like… 46 or something,” she continued. gwen chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand as her cheeks turned pink. “did you get to feel his abs?” she asked as the trio walked across queens to get to school.

“yeah, they were rock hard. i didn’t expect him to be so fit!” y/n exclaimed. peter tried to stifle his blush as they got closer to the school, blocking out their conversation.

as they entered the gates, gwen quickly walked towards her class, leaving the two alone.

“um, we have math-“

“i know, peter” y/n interrupted. her voice was cold and unemotional- a stark difference form her previous cheerful demeanour. this was the guy that she was squabbling with for years now… the guy that she also maybe had a few steamy dreams about as well. her preconceived notions about peter were contradicting with her fantasies and the realities of what happened over the weekend- causing her to spiral into a semi-depressed state of rage.

peter, on the other hand, knew exactly what he thought of y/n. he always thought that she was attractive, but a total arse. now, he found her being an arse super endearing. but that could have something to do with the fact that they made out 3 times and he almost touched her boobs.

the two walked in awkward silence to their math class, a strong tension in the air. they took their seats and sat painfully silently for an hour.

y/n tapped her pen on her notebook, not listening to a word the teacher was saying. ‘fuck it,’ she thought, ripping out a piece of paper.

she scribbled a few words down before passing it over to peter.

‘make up for ghosting me by skipping second period and hiding in the unisex bathrooms’

‘sure :)’

the unisex bathrooms were dimly lit, far away from the rest of campus. surrounded by unused classrooms. the unisex bathrooms were a prime hookup spot… but for y/n, it was her own personal hotbox.

she lit the end of her joint and put her lighter in her jacket pocket as she leaned against the bathroom wall. y/n took a drag as she stared at the wall. she took another short hit, before passing it to peter. he did the same, his legs crossed.

“so why didn’t you text me, dick face?” she started, crossing her arms. smoke escaped her lips as the talked, mesmerising peter.

“dick face?” peter repeated, stifling a grin as he shook his head.

“um… i guess i didn’t know what to say,” he replied, passing back the joint. y/n smiled awkwardly as she rolled her eyes. “classic parker…”

“well, do you know what to say now?” y/n asked, sliding down to the floor, head level with peter. he shrugged his shoulders. “kinda,” he muttered.

“are you gonna say it, mcslutty?”

“i don’t appreciate the name-calling, y/n.” he said irritably, his voice somewhat breathy.

“you ghosted me too, remember?” peter added, raising his eyebrows.

“yeah, but i was mugged!” she said defensively, opening her mouth in shock. “obviously i was too busy!”

peter laughed, covering his face. “fair point.”peter pursed his lips, looking down before taking another hit of the joint.

peter took a deep breath in, tapping the floor anxiously. “i really like you, y/n” peter averted his eyes. “i used the think i didn’t, but i was just lying to myself so i wouldn’t have to confront the fact that there’s actually nice stuff about you,” he’s smirked.

y/n chuckled. “what nice stuff?”

“your face, obviously. your musical skills, your rolling skills. you’re also really funny, and you’re so generous. you’re not nice to everyone, but you still help everyone- if that makes sense? but yeah… shit like that i guess,”

y/n smiled sincerely, slightly tilting her head to the side. “that’s pretty sweet, shithead”

it took them a whole 40 seconds before they started jamming their lips together, peter’s hands gripping y/n’s waist as she sat on top of his lap. her hands cupped his face gently, occasionally pulling a hand away and running it through his hair.

she pulled away for air, before continuing her attack on his lips, her hands trailing down his torso as she fiddled with his shirt. peter pulled away, looking up at her before her eyes drifting to her hands.

“what are you doing there?” he asked teasingly, his voice limited to a hoarse whisper.

she began to frantically kiss his neck, her hands still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. “felt something hard. wondering if you’re ripped or just really horny.” she muttered breathily, one hand resting under his shirt as she caressed his torso, while the other hand gripped a bundle of his hair.

he looked as her curiously as she felt up his chest, watching her pull away with a look of shock and confusion. “peter? what the fuck?” she exclaimed, her hair messy and cheeks red.

“what? what’s wrong?” peter asked, panicked as his eyes drifted down to his pants, before meeting her eyes again. his face turned red, putting up his hands in surrender.

“hey, you were the one grinding against my-“

“no, you’re fully ripped!” she whispered, her eyes wide as her hand retracted from under his shirt. “jesus christ…” she muttered, lifting his shirt to take a peek.

peter burst out into a fit of dry laughter, tilting his head back and lightly hitting the wall of the bathroom stall.

“oh, yeah. that.” he said casually. y/n grumbled, standing up.

“right. i was not expecting that.” she huffed, her face completely red.

“anyways, i’m not fucking you in a hot-boxed bathroom stall at school. if you decide to stop being a little bitch and message me, maybe i’ll forgive you for ghosting me.” y/n proposed, leaning against the wall as she looked down at peter.

peter nodded, standing up. he opened the door, turning to face her. “yeah, i definitely won’t be ghosting you anytime soon. sorry about that, by the way.” he murmured.

“it’s fine. just as long as you send me a picture of your abs after school.” she demanded, her face completely serious as she looked peter up and down. peter nodded, his eyes wide.

she bit her lip, meeting his eyes once again. “seriously, they’re almost as good at spider-man’s.” she added, exiting the bathroom- leaving peter alone to deal with his thoughts.

marlene mckinnon gives me early 2000’s taylor swift energy ! tell me u don’t see it.

IN THE SAME REC AS MY TWO FAV AUTHORS 😭😭 NO WAYY ILY ILY

no joke i’ve reread in a world of boy’s multiple times n every time murdrdocs posts i kick my legs a little.

love u i hope you have a great day

| luhvsage’s luke castellan fic recs | still a work in progress!

✧ - 18+

dancer @srvbryn

who stole the sun? @sunniskyies

✧ untitled 001 @murdrdocs

settle down @vauxxy

thief @lecsainz

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman @neo-nomatrix

the owl house characters’ taste in music

luz:

this bitch listens to vocaloid, enough said

also mitski

she has the basic ass tik tok cosplayer music taste (mother mother, penelope scott, etc…)

but she was apart of the tøp, p!atd and mcr fan base so she has some good favs from those three

she also probably likes lemon demon

amity:

she’s an emo

she loves paramore and bikini kill, but only after post redemption arc

she also likes bjork and sophie because she’s got a superiority complex

she also really likes mcr but doesn’t want to admit it cause she thinks it’s cringe

artic monkeys

gus:

he LOVES taylor swift

fav swiftie

but i imagine he doesn’t like music that much and just listens to radio

likes ed sheeran😭

but also loves lady gaga???? and nicki minaj obvi

pretty basic music taste but his playlists get everyone hyped

willow:

hoizer.

she loves hoizer.

folklore and evermore stan, gus convinced her to listen to tswizzle and now she’s obsessed

loves phoebe bridgers, lorde and lana del rey

has the best but saddest music taste

when she’s given the aux on car trips amity sets up headspace for her as soon as ‘mirrorball’ comes on

mazzy star enthusiast

hunter:

midwestern emo fan 😭

the front bottoms, modern baseball, etc…

he lies in his bed at night and listens to twin sized mattress as he screams into his pillow

but he also really appreciates willow’s taste in music and loves ‘tolerate it’ because he needs therapy

strangely, he likes sza

‘kiss me more’ came on the radio one day and i couldn’t stop listening to it. his favourite songs are supermodel and drew barrymore

HE LOVES ELLIOT SMITH!!!

i wanna draw a female marauders comic bud i have no ideas. my life is hell 😁

Remus Lupin ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

thinking about how luke castellan calls you “lovergirl” and kisses your neck and tucks your hair behind your ears and rubs your back when you’re upset and plants a kiss on the top of your head when you hug him. and also how he melts into a puddle when you kiss his scar and practically moans when you play with his hair, and how he buys you a necklace with his initials, and tells you you’re not allowed to ever take it off — and he’s mostly joking, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t, he is a little possessive like that . . .

crying screaming foaming at the mouth

wound too tight | h. brown

❥ — PAIRING hobie brown x gn! bassist! reader

❥ — SUMMARY you and your neighbour are the loudest people in your apartment building - drowning out the sound of each other's music with your own. You hadn't realised that your neighbour saw it less like a competition and more like a collaboration.

# A/N i keep seeing “drummer reader” this and “drummer reader” that so, as a fellow bassist, i’m giving us little guys some food

Your neighbour did not like you.

Luckily for them, the feeling was mutual.

Whenever you had a spare second, you'd take the opportunity to grab your bass and unwind, pulling out a CD you had burnt with all the songs you could play. You had strong feelings about paying a subscription fee to listen to music without ads, so you opted for totally legal youtube to mp3 converters.

You had never really been a noisy neighbour, keeping your amp as quiet as possible and stopping as soon as you knew people would be going to bed. Generally, the people that knew you in the building were fond of you.

So when the old lady in the flat next to you moved out, needing to live with family for the support, and a young man your age turned up, guitar case slung over his shoulder, you were curious. Eager to be friends, even.

The first week was quiet. There was an occasional clatter on the wall that connected your flats, but other than that you could've forgotten your old neighbour had even left. You occasionally saw him entering his apartment as you left, or vice versa, and he'd spare you a momentary glance as you offered a smile. A little rude, in your opinion, but not uncommon.

After that first week, your curiosity had died down and you had been following your regular routine, sifting through your CDs. You had one with a specific set of songs and you couldn't find it anywhere. After an hour, you had turned your entire apartment upside down to no avail and frowned at your own mess. You'd clean it up later.

Not bothering with a CD, you plugged it into your amp and checked the tuning of your bass, instinctively playing the familiar bassline of Boys Don't Cry - it had become habit for it to be the first thing you played, having been the first song you learnt.

What you didn't expect was, hardly five minutes later, an incredibly loud guitar strum to echo throughout your flat, barely muffled by your neighbour's walls. You listened in (not really having a choice due to it's volume) and recognised that he was playing a song you knew; one of the ones you had on that missing CD. It was a favourite of yours.

Biting the inside of your cheek you listened to him finish the first verse, aware that you couldn't practice with him making so much noise. When he reached the chorus, however, you used your foot to bump up the volume of your amp and play along, hoping that he could hear you (and that he was smart enough to realise he had been disturbing your practice).

It carried on like that for at least an hour, both of you gradually increasing the volume in an attempt to overpower the other.

When you finished, you immediately felt guilty for being an annoyance to just about everyone else in the building. You'd apologise for the disturbance the next morning.

That morning, you made a quick trip to your local cornershop, buying some baking ingredients so you could apologise with more than just a promise not to get carried away again.

None of your neighbours disliked you, easily accepting the apology and baked goods when you sputtered out an explanation for all the noise. A couple of them even invited you in for a cup of tea, which was always welcome.

"That boy," the middle aged woman across from you leaned closer, a devious glint in her eyes, "the one that just moved in, are you friends?"

"Uh, no," you tilted your head to the side, feeling like you were 17 again and being questioned by aunts about 'when will you bring someone home?', "we haven't even spoken, actually."

"Oh," you watched her deflated, "that's boring. I thought you two would've been fast friends."

It was difficult not to laugh at her lack of subtlety and you took it as a sign to leave before you had to dodge any more questions. Maybe in another universe she was a pestering aunt - you didn't think you'd hate that.

As you walked across the hall to your apartment, you noticed your neighbour was leaving, no guitar in sight.

You caught eyes momentarily before letting unlocking your door. As you made your way inside, you couldn't help feeling like there were still eyes on you.

This became a frequent routine - you'd practice bass, only to get interrupted by your lovely, polite neighbour deciding he wanted to play guitar whenever you didn't want him to, and a war over who could play louder would ensue.

It would've been funny the first time, but it was causing you to lose enjoyment out of practicing and a significant portion of your paycheck was being spent on ingrediants that you didn't even get to enjoy the results of. You were certain that the patience of your other neighbours were running thin, too.

So, like any normal person would, you began waiting for the familiar click of your neighbour's door closing before you even thought about touching your bass. The door, for whatever reason, had always been a sound you could hear from your apartment - you'd mostly tuned it out but now it proved vital in letting you practice bass in peace. And it worked.

For all of two days.

The last thing you expected when walking past your neighbour on the stairs was for him to reach out and grab your arm, stopping you in your tracks. His fingers were calloused, undoubtedly from guitar, but soft on your skin.

The contact made you turn to face him and you both stood like that for, what felt like, minutes. Just looking at each other. You hadn't noticed all his piercings. You hadn't noticed that he was as attractive as he was irritating.

"You the bassist?"

His words took you by surprise. Obviously he knew it was you - you didn't live with anyone, so there couldn't be multiple suspects.

"Yeah, I am."

His face broke out into a smile, grip tightening so he could pull you into him, slinging an arm over your shoulders. He smelt of aftershave and what you could only think to describe as an old library.

Since he had moved in, a word hadn't been spoken between you - a smile hadn't been shared. Now he'd nestled you under his arm, after just one admission from you.

"Mate," he was buzzing, "you are the sickest bassist I think I've ever heard. Every time you play I gotta join in, you're jus' too good!"

All ill-will towards the man melted away at his words: he was just joining in. It was cute, almost.

"Thanks," you offered, "I hadn't realised that's what you were doing, to be honest."

He didn't respond, catching sight of the plastic corner-shop bag in your hands. Flour, eggs, sugar, chocolate chips. Today you were making chocolate-chip muffins, it was one of the bakery recipes left in your cook book that you hadn't tried yet.

"You baking?"

"For the neighbours-"

"For me?" his smile only brightened, unintentionally leaning closer to you, "What's the occa-"

"To apologise for someone's noise," you shot back, not missing a beat. The statement had paused him in his tracks, lips pursed together and arm dropping away from you. It felt like you were missing something as he pulled away. If you didnt know better, you would've thought he hadn't even spared a second thought to your neighbours, or the volume of his amp.

"Hadn't really thought about that, I guess."

He'd proven you wrong; you didn't know better.

With the lull in conversation at his statement, you took a step away from him, offering your sweetest smile as you outstretched your arm with the bag, "I think I'm overdue some help, don't you?"

reblogs are hugely appreciated ♡

[masterlist]