Considering Writing A Fanfic Again ,,, Which Is Crazy Because I Thought I Put My Pen Down When Writing

considering writing a fanfic again ,,, which is crazy because i thought i put my pen down when writing about hamilton ships on wattpad at the ripe old age of 12

anyways i want requests, i want ideas and i want people to tell me to do it before i decide against it!!!! please and thankyou <3333

feel free to send into my inbox or reply down below, any ideas at all

considering a carmy x female oc/reader long fanfiction or a luke castellan equivalent

i’m literally like …. like i’m just literally like 🤤

dark luke castellan fics inspired by this picture WHEN?

the catholic guilt girlies are being FED TONIGHT

♰ PRAYING. -- JESUS DIED ON A CROSS (part one) -- carmen berzatto x fem!reader ♰

a/n: hi catholic guilt besties,,, how we feelin' tonight?? new fic alert teehee using my catholic years for lore! -🪱 (listen to take me to church - hozier.) cws: catholic trauma. cursing, but other than that sfw. <3 wc: 622! (short blurb to build plot)

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hebrews 10:25 says, ‘and let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near.’

loud. hectic. messy. loud, again.

those were the only words that came to mind when lunch rush hit. he’s trying. he really is. but mikey didn’t leave this place exactly organized.

he’s slinging sandwiches in white paper bags when his eyes catch a glimpse of a crucifix charm gleaming under the fluorescents. 

there was no way. 

he hadn’t seen anyone with the same one as him in years. he’d like to keep it that way, given private school wasn’t necessarily an environment he thrived in. 

her eyes seemed to lock on his own cross under his tightly fit white tee, eyes widening when her eyes dart back up to his face. 

“hi. uhm, could i get a black coffee?”

“yeah.” he said quickly, scrambling for a to-go cup. “yeah. of course.” he fumbles slightly with the pot of coffee as he fills up the cup with the steaming brown liquid.

“uhhh, that’ll be two bucks.”

“oh…yeah. uhm, just take a 5. keep the change.” 

she scrambles through her bag, a crumpled abraham lincoln staring back at him on the counter. 

“carmen, right? …i went to holy trinity too.” she mutters, watching him put her 5 in the register. the rest in the dusty tip jar as she thumbs her necklace that he seemed to have an exact replica of around his neck.  

“yeah.” he mutters, handing her the cup of coffee. it’s not that he’s intentionally being rude, he just sucks with new people, especially pretty ones that went to the same hell as him.

he couldn’t help but think it was probably the only thing him and this girl had in common. she was gorgeous, and he’s beating himself up inside for not remembering her name.

he really did bury the memories. the ties, the slacks. the masses and the holy water. the smell of incense that lingered on his uniform for days. 

she looks around, noticing she’s most definitely holding things up. judging by the way richie also comes up behind carmy to whack him lightly in the back of the head. 

“bye, carmen.” 

maybe going to private school was worth it if it meant he got to know of her existence. see her face on a shitty day like today. all things he would never say to her, seeing as he let her walk away.

“ow.” he mutters monotonously at richie’s hit. 

richie’s watching carmy’s face flush a deep red, and can’t help but let out a low whistle as she walked away. 

“cousin.” richie laughs,

“she was totally checking you out.”

“no, she wasn’t. wrap another damn sandwich.” 

he hated to admit it, but the mysterious nature of their interaction had his mind swimming.

who was she? was she always that pretty? did she remember my stutter, or that time sister mary-ann caught me smoking in the parking lot? 

“he like—totally didn’t remember me.”

okay, maybe it wasn’t a coincidence.

maybe, she’s had a little bit of a parasocial relationship with the infamous carmen berzatto, and his shiny awards.

maybe she remembered him vividly, the way he would brush past her in the hallway with his head down.

maybe she heard whispers of him coming back to chicago -- and wanted to see his face.

maybe she was talking to herself on the way back to the L, a lukewarm to go cup of coffee in hand.

 “fuck, am i creepy for this?”

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dt: @thefreakingbear, @carmenberzattosgf,, thank u for this idea!!

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no i’m so normal about this wdym

A Luke and Trouble smut in the car

a/n: she's back.... and with a trouble!verse smut gasp. anyways if you haven't read the series all you need to know is luke calls her trouble. if you do wanna check it out, read 'partners in crime' here!

luke castellan x fem!dionysus!reader

wc: 1.1k

“We’re gonna be late,” you grumble under your breath. The sun is setting on Long Island faster than you and your boyfriend thought it would with the old hatchback slowly inching through Queens traffic. 

There’s only an hour left before curfew. 

And Luke Castellan drives like someone’s blind grandpa.

“Relax, babe—once we get onto the expressway, we’ll be straight sailing from there!” Luke says, with a hint of a smile prodding at his cheek. You were never a patient person, fidgeting in the passenger seat next to him, sweaty thighs stuck to worn leather. The air vents are tired, sounding like gasping coughs, and every car in New York City seems to be inching forward and unable to pick up the breeze.

“You said that forty minutes ago.”

“C’mon, it’s not all that bad, trouble. We get to have some extra time together. And be alone,” his voice is as smooth as the rumbling engine, taking his fingertips to the soft of your thigh. You’d find him sweet if you didn’t feel like ripping all your clothes off right now. “You know how rare that is for us.”

“M’just so hot, babe. I feel like I’m fucking dying,” you groan, exaggeratedly flopping over the console and onto his shoulder. He doesn’t mind being stuck to you like this, wet skin and shiny lips nuzzling against his neck and he licks a drop of sweat from his cupid’s bow. Your gentle kisses sear onto his skin and he has to inhale deeply, almost eyeing the horizon and daring for it to darken slower.  Foot tapping on the brake a little too harshly, the car is a toe away from rolling into the one in front of you.

“You’re not going to die. Would be lame if you did.”

“But baby, it’s like I’m about to explode,” you whine louder, “feels like we’re sitting on the surface of the sun!” Even at his wits’ end, your boyfriend can’t find the gall to get mad at you. Especially when your tank top flies into his lap, right over the growing bulge in his shorts that’s keeping him hot and bothered. Luke almost goes nonverbal at the goosebumps that rise—and you haven’t even touched him yet. You’re fumbling with something, knocking around in your seat as he shakes his head and tries to focus on the road.

“Don’t.”

The car behind you honks slightly and he swallows dryly, running his hand through the wet mop of curls as he rolls forward. Fuck New Jersey drivers, he thinks, this guy shouldn’t have gotten a license—what!

“You should’ve just let me drive,” your voice disrupts his inner monologue, and he doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re grinning, “Would’ve gotten there faster than you, speedster.”

You know exactly what you’re doing.

“We’re gonna be late.” Hand flexing over the gear shift, his eyes dart across the road, quickly mapping out a path to the next exit. Your panties fall over his fist, a flash of black lace and damp with something other than just sweat.

“Aren’t you a son of Hermes? Make it work.”

Horns honking like a symphony, he weaves through traffic almost dangerously fast and not being able to do anything else but bite his lip when he hears you laugh through the chaos of it all.

—

“Sh–Shit! We’re gonna…” 

Luke’s the one laughing now as he slaps a hand over your throat, pistoning deeper into your warmth, and fuck, everything about you feels like fire. It’s the type of burn that licks at you from the inside out—but Luke tends to it with vigor, feeling you with every inch of his being. Your hands slap onto his wrist to hold him there, eyes rolling back into your head with wispy breaths of bliss. 

It’s dark now, and you’ve both somewhat safely stopped the car in a wooded area—Luke ripping off the rest of your clothes and his own before taking you belly-up in the backseat and your calves sitting pretty against his shoulders. 

“Be late? You weren’t worried about that earlier,” he teases.

The illegal fireworks and other illicit goods you’re trying to smuggle back to camp jostle in a box on the ground, digging painfully into his shins but he’s too busy stamping his hands into the shape of your breasts, rubbing you down with the mixture of both of your sweat that rolls with the momentum of your bodies.

“Fuck, Luke!”

Looking down at you with heat in his gaze, his thumb prods at your swollen lips, tapping lightly for you to open up. You do without a single complaint. He loves you, yes—even when you’re mouthy, but you look extra pretty when he gets to fuck you dumb and there’s no one around to bother you two. Grunting, you can feel and hear your skin slap against his when he leans forward to delve deeper if it’s even possible. All of you is red-hot from his passion, cock thrusting harshly so much that you can feel it slam against your insides.

For a moment you think he must hate you—dancing on the line of hot and hurt. 

Your eyes lock and you both grin.

“Let me take care of it. Gonna let me take care of you, right pretty girl?” He spits, a straight shot into your waiting mouth and an inhuman noise crawls up from your caged throat.

Leaning up to kiss him and grappling at his shoulders, he smiles into your pout, smeared lipgloss and runny mascara transferring onto his tanned skin. He loves it, knowing that you’re all over him and feeling branded by you even in the dark of the night.

A light flashes in your peripherals and you pull off him with a gasp.

“Is that a car?”

“We’re fine,” he grits, locking your legs around his waist and trying to focus—you’re so soft and soaking all over. His hands slip to your ass, clapping your cheek as he jerks his cock into you harder, making you whine. “They’re not… going this direction. Stop getting distracted.”

The heat builds from your core, pussy pulsing, and tears almost sizzling off your cheeks, so shiny and tempting that he licks a trail up to your ear. 

“I don’t want you to stop. Don’t… you dare, Luke. Fuck!”

Light filters through the darkness behind your eyelids as you grind yourself on his lap rapidly, chasing your high until the end. In a few hours from now, it’s back to business—but Luke has always been one to remind you of your mischievous side.

“Shit, trouble,” he sighs in bliss.

A blip of a siren goes off from outside, followed by quickly approaching footsteps towards your foggy windows.

“Shit,” you repeat back to him with wide eyes, untangling your legs and quickly trying to find your magic Zippo lighter through the mess of clothes at your feet.

—

Lessons were learned, and Connor and Travis were elected to go on supply runs from then on.

he gets me

Ebon Moss-Bachrach as Richie Jerimovich in THE BEAR

me when i’ve read all the luke castellan fics i can find so i have to start writing my own to fill a void

ps pls put ideas in my inbox i need motivation !