I’ll Take Him Just Like This🙏🏽
I’ll take him just like this🙏🏽
More Posts from Lovelymylene and Others
your telling me they’d rather do the whole tour again than just make long/better videos for EVERYONE to enjoy? And the way they’re setting it up it’s genuinely just sounds like this could’ve been put into a live stream but nah let’s do a whole fucking tour at the same fucking place with probably the same fucking people and make it super fucking expensive so we can make more money off all the 14-16 year olds attending. And for everyone at home you get shitty videos and weak ass vlogs yayyy!!! Like bffr and there videos are already getting worse and worse in my opinion like they’re not as entertaining so just put energy into something like the podcasts or genuine good long videos. but ig rent must be high. I was so excited for the announcement I was expecting the podcast to come back😭
the DRIVE IN
chris and babydoll reader
summary.. After a group movie night, Chris drives you home and doesn’t know how to act.
The night air was warm, thick with the faint smell of popcorn and exhaust from the drive-in. Chris had parked a little away from the crowd when you all arrived, his old car a quiet escape from the chaos of your friends, who somehow always seemed louder in public. The movie had been alright, not that Chris had been paying much attention. His eyes kept drifting, almost like they had a mind of their own, to you.
You had leaned back against the car seat, your hair perfectly framing your face, the glow of the giant screen painting your skin in shifting light. You didn’t say much during the film, just a few clever quips about the plot and one or two sarcastic remarks that had him smirking. But when you laughed, soft and sudden, it was like something had shifted in the air, and Chris felt it in his chest, sharp and undeniable.
Now, the car hummed quietly as he drove you home, his fingers drumming an uneven rhythm on the steering wheel. You sat beside him, turned just enough to let the warm breeze from the open window brush your face. Your scent lingered in the small space between you, light and familiar, something he never wanted to forget.
“Didn’t think you’d enjoy the movie,” he said, breaking the silence in a way that felt more casual than it actually was. His eyes flicked toward you, hoping to catch something, anything, in your expression.
You tilted your head, lips pulling into a half-smile. “It was fine. Could’ve done without all the explosions, though.”
“Explosions are the best part,” he shot back, grinning like he was trying to win you over.
“Yeah, for someone with no taste,” you teased, your tone light but sharp enough to shut him down in that effortless way you always seemed to have.
He laughed, shaking his head. “You really don’t let me have anything, do you?”
You shrugged, your eyes still on the window. “You don’t need me to.”
Chris bit the inside of his cheek, his grin softening into something quieter. You always had this way of cutting through all the nonsense, leaving him feeling completely seen. It wasn’t a bad thing, but it wasn’t something he was used to either.
The drive stretched on, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows over your face. He kept stealing glances, noticing how your fingers absentmindedly played with the edge of your sleeve or how your lips pressed together, like you were lost in thought.
Then there was a moment, a small one, but enough, when you turned your head, and your eyes caught his. He froze, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. For a second, neither of you looked away, the air between you thick with something unspoken.
But just as quickly as it happened, you looked away, turning your head back toward the window.
“You’re so quiet tonight,” he said, his voice a little lower, the words almost catching in his throat.
You hummed softly in response, shifting in your seat. “Just tired, I guess.”
He wanted to say something else, something that felt as big as the way he felt when you were near him, but all he could do was reach for the radio, settling on a low, mellow tune to fill the space.
The ride to your house felt too short for him but probably just right for you. He pulled up to the curb and turned off the engine, the sudden quiet making his pulse feel louder in his ears. You unbuckled your seatbelt but didn’t make a move to get out just yet.
“Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice soft as you turned to look at him. Your eyes lingered on his face, and for a moment, Chris felt completely unraveled.
“Yeah,” he said, his hand brushing the back of his neck. “Ofc. You don’t even gotta ask.”
You leaned toward him then, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. His heart was pounding so loud he was sure you could hear it. He thought, hoped, you might kiss him, but instead, your lips pressed gently to his cheek.
The kiss was soft, lingering in a way that left him breathless. When you pulled back, your face was so close to his, and the smile you gave him was warm and just a little mischievous.
“Goodnight, Chris,” you whispered, your voice quiet but carrying a weight he couldn’t quite understand.
And before he could say or do anything, you opened the door and stepped out, your hair bouncing as you walked toward your front porch. Chris sat there for a long moment, one hand on the wheel, the other brushing against the spot on his cheek where your lips had been.
He watched you until the door closed behind you, then let out a long, shaky breath. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath, somewhat disappointed.
@issysh3ll
i gotta say that whatever happens in the white lotus finale it's that at least when people write lochlan fics they'll know is canon that he has a incest kink i- 🙃
Omg😭 not my baby💔💔💔💔💔
70s teenage dirtbag hamzah meeting reader at some old vhs place and immediately gushing to martin abt her ...
the WARRIORS
teenage dirtbag hamzah and reader
summary.. A chance encounter at a dusty VHS store leaves Hamzah completely hooked.. now all he can do is rewind the moment in his head and gush to Martin like an idiot.
VHS & Chill was the kind of place that smelled like stale popcorn and forgotten cigarette smoke, the scent of dust settling over old plastic cases stacked on wire racks. The sign outside flickered weakly, a busted neon “Open” buzzing against the quiet hum of the street. It wasn’t the busiest spot in town, most kids preferred the drive-in or the record store, but Hamzah liked it here. The silence. The low hum of a TV in the background playing something grainy and forgotten. The feeling that no one was really watching him, that he could just exist.
Martin, on the other hand, didn’t give a damn about silence. He was already flipping through tapes, tossing titles at Hamzah like he was quizzing him. The Last Picture Show? “Depressing.” Enter the Dragon? “Classic.” Harold and Maude? “Kinda weird, but I dig it.” Hamzah let out a breath, running a hand over his buzzed head, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out his camera. It was second nature at this point, filming the nothingness of his days, capturing the way life looked when you weren’t really a part of it.
And then she walked in.
Hamzah didn’t even notice her at first, not really. Just the soft jingle of bracelets, the scuff of thick rubber soles against linoleum. It wasn’t until she passed by, the scent of vanilla and something deeper, warmer, hitting him like a sucker punch, that he actually looked up. Her hair framed her face perfectly, like one of those actresses in French films he pretended to understand, and she was wearing these shoes, chunky, broken-in, the kind that made a girl look like she could stomp you out if she wanted. A black baby tee, gold jewelry catching the dim light, making her look untouchable, unreal.
Hamzah stared.
And then Martin, the menace, clocked him immediately. “Oh, hell no,” he whispered, grinning. “Don’t even say it.”
“I—” Hamzah started, but Martin cut him off.
“Dude. Every time.”
“This is different.”
“It’s never different.”
Hamzah huffed, gripping his camera like it might stabilize him. “She looks like she has good taste.”
“She just walked in, man.”
“And?”
Martin just shook his head, amused, but Hamzah could feel it, the inevitable. The way he was already forming theories in his head. What movies she liked. What kind of music she listened to when no one was around. If she’d think his camera thing was weird or if she’d let him interview her with that lazy, amused look that pretty girls always had when he got too in his head.
She was flipping through the cult classics section now, rings glinting as she ran her fingers over the spines of old VHS tapes. Hamzah was not gonna go up to her. Absolutely not. His social skills were limited to Martin and his cats, and he was barely holding onto those. But then.. then she grabbed The Warriors, tilting her head like she was debating it.
Hamzah’s mouth moved before his brain did. “That’s a good one.”
She turned, surprised, and for a second, he thought maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. But then.. she smiled. Not big, not showy, just enough for him to see the amusement behind her eyes.
“Yeah?” she said, flipping the tape in her hands. “Think it’s worth it?”
Hamzah swallowed, nodding. “Definitely.”
And just like that, Martin was grinning like a devil over his shoulder, and Hamzah knew he was doomed.
The second she walked out the door, the little bell jingling behind her, Hamzah let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. He turned to Martin, eyes wide, heart still stuttering in his chest like an old car refusing to start.
“Oh, man,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, man.”
Martin just stared at him, arms crossed, already smirking like he’d been waiting for this moment. “Here we go.”
Hamzah ignored him. He was still staring at the door, like maybe she’d come back, like maybe he’d get another chance to act like a normal human being around her.
“Did you see her?” he asked, half in a daze. “Like, actually see her? The shoes, man. The jewelry. She smelled like—I don’t even know, but I think I just got cursed or something. That was—I think I’m actually losing my mind.”
Martin snorted. “Dude, she bought The Warriors. That’s literally the bare minimum.”
Hamzah whipped his head toward him, scandalized. “The bare minimum?! That’s cinematic taste, Martin. That’s culture.”
Martin held up his hands. “Okay, okay, relax, movie nerd. So what, you gonna actually talk to her next time?”
Hamzah groaned, tipping his head back. “I did talk to her.”
“Telling a girl a movie is ‘good’ doesn’t count as talking, dumbass.”
Hamzah let out another sigh, glancing back at the door. His camera was still clutched in his hands, fingers drumming anxiously against the side. Next time, he thought. If there was a next time.
And God, he really wanted there to be a next time.
I accidentally got lost in the sauce and stayed up all night writing this and now I’m running off no sleep..
@issysh3ll
taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba113r @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo
coming out.. I use to have a crush on Taylor Holder. KILL ME NOW UGHHHHH EWWWWWUUUHHHHH
Okay so I decided to write a bunch of the requests on Saxon and just post one everyday so don’t think I forgot 😭 but while I was writing I was watching remember the titans (the best movie to ever exist imo no exaggeration) and I saw sunshine and how fine he was. And then I went to look for some fics of him and there are NONE. And he was one of the only boys to not discriminate when joining the team like he was so cute. I might create a story with him and a black reader because I can see it so clearly. So now I have to ask should she be the coaches daughter? Or a cheerleader? Or I was thinking she’s good with numbers so she helps the coaches on the sidelines but doesn’t actually care for football. Please tell me yall seen this movie because I need help I wanna write this so bad
Does anyone know where I can get clothes like this??
