#SELF TITLED YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS

[nowshesdoingitallthetime]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO AN ALBUM AND AN ERA THAT CAN NEVER BE REPLICATED

[lifemod17]

Hozier performing an acoustic version of Angel Of Small Death & The Codeine Scene

🎥: Tenement TV | youtube

09/29/2014

and some gifs 💛

[100vern]

begging for the next | hjs

we could be lovers in the night // we could be strangers in the light.

✦ pairing: joshua x f. reader ✦ genre: strangers to fwb, secret lovers au; smut, fluff ✦ summary: no one needs to know what you and joshua get up to except the two of you. ✦ rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ✦ warnings: joshua is some degree of famous but not explicitly stated to be an idol (choose your own adventure), he is also down very very horrendous, use of pet names for reader (beautiful, baby, angel, etc.), reader wears a dress, one brief mention of hair, swearing, other things i have probably forgotten. i am incapable of writing pure pwp so this got a lot softer than i intended but they're in love so fuck it we ball. ✦ smut warnings: gendered terms for genitalia, a lot of kissing, a handjob, fingers in mouths bc it's me and somehow they always end up there, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, a lot of cum play idk how that happened sorry, hair pulling, fingering, grinding, mentions of facesitting, oral sex in general, joshua spits in reader's mouth, begging and dirty talk, public sex (in a car), exhibitionism, masturbation, very slight edging, shua gets called a good boy one time, reader on top, joshua carries her and fucks her against a wall, they both get a lil possessive in the heat of the moment but nothing toxic. ✦ wordcount: 5.8k ✦ author's note: idk where this came from. i was listening to "english love affair" by 5sos months ago and was like hm yeah joshua. title is from that song; other lyrics are from "lovers in the night" by seori. thank you to bee (@imnotshua) and jess (@starlightkyeom) for looking this over for me along the way. thank u, love u both. i am far too embarrassed to read my own smut so this is unedited and any mistakes are my own.

Joshua is used to having eyes on him.

Fans, paparazzi, strangers—after a while, it all starts to blend together. Always starts feeling hazy around the edges, like there’s something there, just beyond the fog, just out of his reach.

He doesn’t remember whose idea it was to come to this club. Probably just one of those things: owned by a friend of a friend, discretion implied and assured, top-shelf shit handed out without needing to ask. He’s sequestered behind a velvet rope, feels like a king lording over his subjects, has a hawk-eye view of everything.

Everyone.

Joshua is used to having eyes on him, and he felt yours as soon as he walked in.

Cute, he thinks. He hadn’t been looking to pull, hadn’t wanted to deal with all the conversations and all the aftermath, but sometimes he’s easily persuaded. Intrigued, more like. Most people watch him like they’ve got their eyes closed—shy, hiding away, unsure of what they could possibly offer him that he can’t find in anyone else. But you watch him with eyes wide open. Confident, self-assured, know exactly what you’ve got to offer. All but daring him to find something better.

It’s raining when you drag him outside. When you smirk crooked out of the corner of your mouth, plant your hands in the center of his chest and press him to the building’s exterior, drag a groan out of him when the brick bites into his skin. Joshua kisses you like he’s a little desperate for it. Licks into your mouth and swallows all the sounds you make. Hikes your leg around his waist, digs his thumbs into your hips, presses in close enough to have you rolling your hips against his cock.

Imagines the scandal if he got caught fucking you in public—

He asks, between nips at your neck: “Where do you live, beautiful?”

You answer, with your hand halfway down the front of his jeans: “Not far.”

—and lets the thought of it wash over him, make him a little frenzied and wanting. He moans as he grows harder. Thinks about what you’re gonna feel like around his cock, all hot and tight, dripping wet. Thinks about how breathless and fucked-out you’ll sound when you pant his name into the space between your mouth and his own. Thinks about how hot you’re gonna look when you’re falling apart on his cock, when he’s pumping you full of cum.

“Shit,” he whines, “let’s go, then.”

Halfway to your car he decides he can’t wait. Doesn’t want to. Could barely stumble the couple hundred feet to the parking lot with how hard he is, how overwhelming he finds you. Finds himself making any excuse he can to press in close and inhale your perfume. Finds himself thinking that doing anything that isn’t burying himself inside of you seems absolutely pointless.

And you aren’t helping. Can’t seem to keep your hands off of him—lips on his throat, words in his ear, nails digging into his back, pulling at his belt, untucking his shirt, yanking on his hair. You smile when he hisses at the sting and the only thought that registers is he’s never wanted to ruin anyone so badly.

So he says, “Get in the backseat. I’m fucking you right here, baby,” and follows right behind you, desire licking at his heels.

He laughs low and heated as you push him into the seat, your legs spread wide as you straddle him. He pulls his jeans down just enough for you to fish out his cock and spit on it, hips thrusting when you pump him once, twice, pulling small, breathy whines from him each time you twist your wrist, thumb over the head. Embarrassing, he thinks, how close he is to cumming in his pants like a fucking teenager, so he grabs at one of your hands, stills your motions. Moves it to your mouth, tells you to taste the pre-cum coating your fingers just to buy himself a minute, he just needs a minute, and he decides time is meaningless when he sees your tongue move between your pointer and middle, when you moan at the taste of him.

Nearly loses it entirely when you press those same fingers to his own lips, press them against his own tongue.

“Tastes so good, doesn’t it?” you murmur, and he’s struck, not for the first time tonight, by how beautiful you are. Mesmerized by the rain that still clings to your eyelashes, the droplets that run down your temple. Feels dizzy when his brain finally comes back online and he reaches for the hem of your dress, pushes it up and over your hips.

His hand moves to the space between your thighs, rubs over the thin fabric of your panties. He grins wide and sleazy at the wetness he finds there; pushes his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he slides them to the side and touches you properly. Thumbs small circles over your clit just to hear the way your breath hitches, feel the way your hips cant towards his fingers. Any other time he’d take it slow, drag it out, tell you to beg in his soft, pretty voice,, but he doesn’t have the benefit of time when he’s crammed into the backseat of your car.

Doesn’t have the benefit of much of anything when you lower your bare pussy to his cock. Already overwhelmed by your heat, he doesn’t think he can be held responsible for the guttural, instinctual sound that escapes him, the way his hands move to your hips to keep you in place. The that’s it, that’s it, baby, just like that, could fucking come from this that tumble from his lips as you start moving along his length.

Your scoff is aborted halfway as Joshua lifts his hips to meet yours. “Abso—fuck—absolutely not,” you breathe, kissing along his jawline. “Need you to fuck me.”

He groans at the thought of it. Curses the seat belt digging into his back as he readjusts to move you where he wants you, where he can bury two fingers deep in your cunt and watch, entranced, as your eyes roll back. “Mm, wa-want you to come like this first.”

“Later,” you bargain. “Gotta be quick, don’t want you to get caught.”

Joshua knows you’re right. Knows he’d thought about it earlier, let the fantasy of it dance at the edges of his vision, knows in the realm of fantasy is where that particular thought needs to stay, but he can’t say he isn’t tempted to put on a show for the entire world. Wants everyone to see both of you sweat-slick, panting hard into the thick air of your car, windows fogged. Wants everyone to hear the sounds he’s pulling from you: the breathy whimpers, your pussy squelching around his fingers, skin on skin as he can’t keep his hips against the seat.

He can tell you’re close. Knows if he angled his fingers just a little more you’d be clenching around them, and he wants to see it—god he wants to see it so bad—but he knows you’re right, knows there’ll be plenty of time to have you come undone in every way possible later, later, later, so he reluctantly removes his fingers. Doesn’t have time to consider what to do with them before you’re sucking them into your mouth and all he can do is watch, slack-jawed. Doesn’t have time to think about how it’d feel if it was his cock instead before you’re grabbing it, lining him up, almost crazed at the way your fingers don’t meet around his girth—and then you’re sinking down on him.

Good thing the two of you don’t have time to drag this out, because he’s on the precipice of a truly pathetic performance.

“God, you’re fucking tight, baby, can barely move—”

Your smile is predatory when you throw your head back. “Don’t need you to,” you say, moving your hands to his knees. “I can get myself off just fine.”

You can—that much is obvious. The way you’re rolling your hips is sinful at best and the absolute end of Joshua at worst, but he’ll accept his fate if this is how he’s destined to go out. Would consider it an honor to die like this between your legs, chasing oblivion. Can’t imagine a life where he isn’t buried to the hilt inside your tight heat every single day for the rest of his life. Feels delirious with the need for it, has to reign himself in when he either starts crying or asks for your hand in marriage, and you must see it, must be able to tell how fucked up you’ve got him, because you seem to delight in it, start moving at a pace that has him gripping white-knuckled at the seat, at the fabric of your dress, at your hips, your chest.

“You gonna cum like this?” you say, breath fanning against his skin. He nods, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Embarrassment has his cheeks burning, skin hot to the touch, but shit, it feels good, the way you’re digging at him. Pulling him up on how far gone he is for you.

He needs you to meet him at the edge. Needs more, needs it messier, faster, harder than what you’re able to do in the confines of the car, so he plants his feet, grabs so roughly at your ass he’s sure it’ll bruise. Tries desperately to thrust through the mess between your legs, but you’re so wet he nearly slips out each time, and it drives him insane. Has him nearly feral, mindlessly chasing both his orgasm and your own, and he knows it’s close, feels the lightning beneath his skin.

You’re falling apart on his cock as soon as he circles your clit. Shaking, clenching so hard your pussy feels like a vice, grabbing blindly for anything you can to anchor yourself. You find his hands and twine your fingers together—and he’ll never be able to explain it, that that’s what has him gasping, stilling as he spills inside you, but even as he cums so hard it nearly whites out his vision, he can still feel you there.

Anchoring him.

Something stupid is about to tumble out of his mouth, so he quickly presses it to yours to try and stem the bleeding.

Joshua is used to people wanting things from him.

Autographs. Selfies. His undivided attention, his time, a pull quote for an article. Someone always wants something, and it’s exhausting, you know, having to anticipate that kind of thing—having to determine what someone wants before they pluck up the courage to ask for it, having to decide if he’s in a position to give it to them, having to decide, decide, decide, always a fucking decision to be made.

So it’s no surprise he’s here, barely back in the country an hour before he’s stumbling across the threshold of your front door, hat pulled low, not for anyone else to see. Because here, he’s safe; here, all those pretenses come crashing down around him. Here, he knows what’s expected of him, doesn’t have to guess—only has to take the hand you offer him and follow you up the stairs.

But it’s just… a lot, finally being here. All he could think about while he was gone was you. Kept replaying each memory over and over: the first time he’d come here, after the scene in your car—the way you’d smiled at him, hung up his jacket by the door, asked if he wanted anything to eat or drink, maybe a hot shower. And it had felt so sleazy, the way he’d smiled and said, ‘what, all by myself?’ but it’d worked, and then that was something else to replay. That was something else to remember: the smell of you all over him. Your soap on his skin; your shampoo in his hair.

Thinks he’s replayed that—the softness of it, the care, how nice it’d felt to just exist alongside somebody—more than the rest.

Not that the rest wasn’t worth thinking about. He’d nearly cum in his pants remembering the way you’d pinned his arms above his head and sat on his face—the visual of you from below, hips rolling; the taste of you on his tongue; the way you said his name when you came, breathless and fractured. The way he’d slid into you from behind, nearly mindless from the way your pussy gripped him. The way he’d pressed you flat to the mattress and kissed all the knots in your spine. The way your skin looked after he’d pulled out and came all over the small of your back.

He’s got a similar view now. It hadn’t really been planned, his coming here—he’d been worked up on the flight, sent a Hail Mary text asking if he could come by instead of going home, and it had taken you a bit to respond, to say sure, missed you, so it was understandable that you’d greeted him at the door in a pair of flimsy sleep shorts and a cropped tank. He expected it, but it undoes him nonetheless.

You’re better than this, he chides himself. Has a tremendous amount of guilt sitting in the pit of his stomach because he can’t stop staring, takes that gentlemanly reputation he’s got and sets it ablaze, but he thinks anyone who’d dare to criticize him for it would understand.

On autopilot, he follows you up the stairs to your bedroom. Tries to look at anything other than your ass and fails in milliseconds. Swallows down another serving of guilt and cannot, for the life of him, recall another time he ever felt like this—the foothold you’ve got on him, the way you have him believing he’s capable of being a real person, but so untethered at the same time, like any second now he’ll drift away. Tempted. Desperate. Joshua cannot make a life for himself here, both in your home and within your body, but—

“Sometimes I look at you and I understand why Eve ate that apple.”

You pause, three steps from the landing, and your eyes are soft when you turn to look at him. You’ve never looked at him any other way, with any less tenderness and care. “And how am I meant to take that?” Joshua flusters, misses the next step, and when you reach out a hand to steady him, Joshua laces your fingers together. “Smooth.”

“You know me,” he says, laughing like it’s a joke, when what he really means is, not around you, not within these four walls. “I just meant—”

You grip his hand tighter, pull him closer, dizzy him when you lean in close and murmur, “I know. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

This time is different.

All that typical raw, frenzied need gives way to tenderness. Right there on the landing of your staircase, unable to go another step without you, Joshua lays you down, cradles your head in his hands, and drapes his body over yours. Cages you in like he’s trying to keep you forever, like he has any right to, and he kisses you much the same. Wants your breath to be his. Wants to find any opening you’re willing to give him and crawl inside of it. Wants to make a home out of your body more than he already has.

Presses his lips to your neck. Drags his teeth along the curve of your jaw, rolls his hips against you when your head tilts back and you sigh soft and stuttered. Nips at your skin all the way to the lobe of your ear, where he presses in close, thumbs at the exposed skin covering your hip bones. Whispers, “Is it okay right here, like this?” Skims his hands down, down, down—pulls your skimpy little shorts to the side and finds you bare and waiting. “Oh, you wanted this, didn’t you?”

You squirm. Try to get his fingers where you want them. Huff when he teases and refuses even though the need is just as apparent in him. “Shua,” you whimper.

He clicks his tongue. Feigns disappointment. “Angel.” Speaks every word into your heated skin. “You know you only have to tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You pout. “You’re being so mean to me,” you try. Joshua chuckles, pulls back so he can cock an eyebrow and say oh, really? I’m being mean to you? You nod, sink your bottom teeth into your bottom lip. Dip your hands beneath the fabric of Joshua’s t-shirt and drag your nails down his chest until he whimpers. “You were gone so long. Didn’t you miss me?”

“You know I—you know I did.”

“You did?” Your brows furrow in faux-disbelief, your pout deepens; your hands follow the same path Joshua’s had only moments earlier. You toy with the waistband of his pants and tease your fingertips underneath. “You missed me so much but you won’t even touch me?”

With his free hand, he grabs your chin, forces the pout off your face. Doesn’t miss the way your pupils blow wide before he’s kissing you hard and messy, so intense it feels like the air has been stolen from his lungs. “No,” he says, finally giving you what you want. Circles his thumb over your clit and wants to drown in all the sounds you make—the way you mewl, how you say his name on an exhale, all the words given up on halfway. “I miss you so much I thought about you every second I was gone. Thought I was going crazy with it.” Sinks two fingers into your slick heat. “Thought about the way you felt around me.” You gasp at his words and your pussy clenches, and Joshua hums. Says, “Exactly, baby, just like that.”

He can feel that you’re already close. Has a split-second to decide if he wants to let you come like this before you take the decision away from him. Your deft fingers play at the button of his pants, drag the zipper over the bulge there as he hisses, and then you tilt your head back. Something wicked gleams in your eye. “Spit in my mouth.”

Joshua falters, fucks up his rhythm, but he can’t deny you of anything, so he slips his thumb in your mouth and forces it open. Collects whatever spit he has and watches, enraptured and so close to being out of his mind, as he lets it go, as it pools on your tongue. “Fuck—”

Your smile is dazed, both of you on the verge of delirious, and then it’s gone, replaced by the visual of you licking the length of your palm. Making a show of it. You press two fingers against your tongue and Joshua watches as your eyes glass over. “Tell me what else you thought about,” are the last words you say before you wrap your slick hand around his cock.

“Shit—god, baby, you always make me feel so fucking good.” And you do—you work him over slow just to watch the way his eyes roll back, how his entire body shudders; thumb at his cockhead when he gets carried away and starts thrusting into your tight fist, brainless in the face of what you’re providing and unable to do anything except chase more of it. His hips roll again—one, two more times—and then he’s babbling, nonsense spilling out of his mouth.

Tells you that he thought about your touch and the way you taste. Tells you how he let it consume him and all the nights he spent touching himself to the thought of you. How he’d bring himself to the edge and force himself to stop just before he came and how he’d do it all over again, over and over, until he was breathless and sweat-slick—that when he was in the midst of it, so incoherent and numb from pleasure… that sometimes he’d open his eyes and swear it was you. Swear he could feel your lips ghosting across his skin, your sweet words in his ear, praising him as he came all over his own stomach and trembled with the aftershocks.

With each confession he gets more carried away. Circles his thumb faster on your clit. Slips another finger into you and presses insistently against your g-spot until you’re writhing and frenetic with need, his name sounding like a prayer as it spills from your lips repeatedly, each one blending into the next, a continuous mantra designed to drag him down with you. Joshua has never felt you this wet, soaking his hand, and he knows he isn’t faring any better. Feels how each slide of your fist along his length is easier than the last.

“Fuck, Shua, I’m gonna—”

He presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah, beautiful, give it to me. Wanna see my angel cum all over me. Fuck, just like that—so fucking beautiful, I missed you so goddamn much. Mm, shit, you’re gonna make me cum too. God, I—”

“On me,” you beg. “Please, wan’ it on me. Please, please, want it so bad—”

He swears as his hips stutter. Feels like his fucking balls are in his stomach as he takes over, uses everything he’d earned from you to jerk himself. Stops you when you move to pull your tank over your tits. “No,” he slurs. He’s so fucking close. “Wanna cum all over your clothes and fucking ruin ‘em. Wanna see you covered in it, in me.”

He sits back on his haunches. Uses his free hand to grab at the meat of your thigh as the force of his orgasm hits and he gives you exactly what you’d asked for. Forces himself to keep his eyes open and watch as his release spills across your pussy, your stomach; as it seeps through the thin fabric of your top. But it’s not—Joshua has never considered himself a greedy man, but it’s not enough, so he keeps fisting his cock. Keeps going until he’s oversensitive and spent and he’s milked himself dry. Until your top is wet and sticky with his release, your nipples just barely visible through the translucent fabric.

He’s breathing hard. Stares down at the mess he’s made of you and tells you you’re a work of art. Drags his fingers through it and can’t decide if he wants to massage it into your skin or press it into your mouth, so he does both. Groans softly when you wrap your swollen lips around his fingers and swallow down the taste of him.

Moves them back to your clit and smirks at the breath you suck in through your teeth—that you’re still so sensitive but don’t dare tell him to stop. “I’m not done with you yet,” he confesses, kissing down the length of your body until he’s eye-level with your cunt. “Is that okay?”

You nod.

His phone sits abandoned on the nightstand.

The text thread is still open and awaiting his reply, but Joshua has long since abandoned it to focus his attention on you. From where he’s parallel on the bed, he can see you in the bathroom: watches as you step out of the shower, no towel, droplets of water running down the length of your body; watches as you only grab one to wrap it around your hair, as you stand naked in front of the mirror and do your skincare. Watches as you slip all of your jewelry back on and the gold glints against your skin.

Watches as your reflection meets his eye.

He feels it immediately, the goosebumps, the way his hair stands on end. Predator watching prey, caught in your web ever since that night at the club, so he sits up straighter, anticipates your next move with bated breath—knows what it does to you to be watched. How powerful you become when you’re no longer weighed down by your inhibitions. How you smirk dirty out of the corner of your mouth and thread your fingers through his hair, pull hard enough to capture his attention. Eyes on me, you purr, but he can never look anywhere else. Wouldn’t want to even if he could. Wants you to always be the last thing he sees.

There’s that same smirk on your face now: provocative and a little roguish, like you know something he doesn’t. All he can do is hold your gaze and wait to be devoured.

“They’re starting to talk, aren’t they?”

Joshua looks for a tell, something that belies your anxiety at finally getting caught out, but if it exists you’ve got it behind lock and key. Instead, you roll your head to the side, run your fingers over the marks he’d left on your neck just this morning, the sun barely above the horizon. He feels his skin grow warm, almost embarrassed as the bright lights of the bathroom highlight all the places he’d sunk his teeth into you, but something furls in his belly that you’d let him do it. That you’d let him possess you.

Feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest as he watches you bend at the waist, as it affords him a glimpse of your pussy; as you lean down and trail your fingers from ankle to thigh, as the expanse of soft, smooth skin pebbles beneath your touch. Watches as you straighten and meet his eye in the mirror again before you raise one leg onto the counter; as you lean forward to grab your lotion and the glimpse of you he’d gotten before returns tenfold. Even from here, he can tell you’re dripping wet; can tell the insides of your thighs are glistening with it.

“That’s who you were texting, right? Your manager?”

He sucks in a harsh breath through clenched teeth. Enraptured once again, unable to look away. Watches as you massage the lotion into your skin—the one he likes the most, the one that always stains his bedsheets the longest. Musk and vanilla. Feels himself growing hard and palms at his cock, unabashed, wanting you to see what you do to him.

Swallows all the whiny little sounds he wants to make and manages to ask, “Does it bother you if they are?”

Whether it’s his question or his tone that piques your attention, you pause, turning to look at him over your shoulder, eyes darkening as you take in the sight of him touching himself. He knows how he looks. Head thrown back, eyes half-lidded, bare chest heaving. How his thick cock looks as it strains against the expensive silk of his shorts. Thinks about all the praise you’ve lavished upon him and knows he’s earned every word of it.

So he gives in. Lets the pleasure wash over him and make him bold as he touches himself with more intention, as he runs two fingers over the seam of his balls, as he tightens his grip and moans, uncaring of who might hear. He registers the dip in the mattress at the same time that familiar lightning starts making its way up his spine. He’s senseless as he chases after it, always a step behind despite wanting more, more, always more; loses himself in the gluttony of his intemperance.

It’s only when he’s on the verge of something truly mind-numbing do you lose your patience—when you straddle his waist and pin his hands at his side. A sob escapes him as his hips thrust uselessly, searching hysterically for friction. Tears prick pathetically at the corner of his eyes, and he knows he needs to look at you, knows you’re expecting it, but every inch of his skin burns with the force and the violence of the orgasm you’d denied him.

You tsk. All condescension as you say, “My poor baby.” All sharp edges when you ask, “Will you be a good boy and keep your hands where they are?”

Despite both of you knowing he’d promise you anything right now, Joshua nods, nearly feverish and rabid with the need to cum. Wants to fill you up until it’s leaking down his shaft. Wants to fuck it back into you with his fingers. Wants you on all fours, back arched so only your hips and ass are in the air, while he eats his load out of you from behind.

Of course, you have ideas of your own.

You trace over the wet spot of his shorts just to watch his cheeks ruddy. Leave bruises on his hips before your fingers move to the waistband, toying with him as you snap the elastic against his skin and relish in the way he whines, how he grasps at the sheets to keep his hands still. Pleas fill his mouth and never make it past his lips, and he’ll beg if he has to, if you make him, but you don’t. Slowly and deliberately, you work his shorts down and off; don’t waste a second before you’re sinking down onto his cock.

Every inch is agonizing, blinding heat. Joshua cries out, both unable and unwilling to censor himself. Doesn’t see the need for it when it feels like every atom in his body is being rearranged, like you’re collecting pieces of him to replace with you, embedding yourself beneath his skin. And he’ll let you—fuck, will he let you; wants to carve out a home for you within his body, wants you ingrained in him forever. Doesn’t ever want to be buried this deeply inside anyone else.

When you kiss him it tastes like devotion. He seals his mouth over yours so it can’t escape, so it has nowhere to go but down into your chest to fill the spaces between each of your ribs. And to hell with listening, he thinks, because he can’t go another second without touching you. One hand curls around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, closer, impossibly closer, keeping you where you are, with your lips on his and your tongue in his mouth; the other digs into the meat of your ass, dimples the skin there, helps guide your cunt along the length of his cock, so soaked every thrust nearly has him slipping out.

He knows every time he hits the spot that makes your vision white out, feels how you clench around him despite the sopping mess between your legs. Slows his pace. Pulls back only far enough to say, “Back and forth, angel. That’s it. Grind that pretty pussy against me and get yourself off—fuck, you feel so good.”

He groans. Feels his grip on reality begin to falter with the noises falling from your lips; all your breathy, fractured whines. “That’s it, that’s it—god, you’re close, aren’t you? Yeah, shit, I can feel it. So fucking dirty, baby, love it when you fuck me like this—”

You come with a sob, body pulling taut, panting his name into what little space exists between you. Joshua swears, tries to fuck you through the aftershocks, but you’re wrapped around him like a vice, cunt so tight he can barely move.

He’s delirious. Always gets lightheaded watching you fall apart: the way your eyes squeeze shut, how dazed they look right after you open them again—how Joshua is always, always the first thing you make sense of when everything comes back into focus. And he’s going to say something stupid, something he can’t take back even if he means it, so he situates the two of you, uses all the strength he can muster to carry you across the room.

In the midst of his self-indulgence he forgot he’d left the door to the balcony open, wanted the sticky July breeze to blow in from the lake, and the wall next to that open door is where he places you. The backs of your knees in the crooks of his elbows; his lips on your neck, tongue tracing over the bruises he’d left. You’ve barely come down from your high before he’s fucking back into you, and he can tell it’s almost too much, that he’s towing a very fine line, so he eases his pace and rolls his hips slow.

Tells you, against the space just beneath your ear, how beautiful you look, how well you take him. “I should fuck you out on that balcony. They should see this,” he murmurs, voice deceivingly soft, all those possessive tendencies flaring in his gut. “All those people out there, they should see how well I fuck you, how you only come for me, only come around this cock.” His words are accentuated with a harsh snap of his hips that has you crying out—a rasping, guttural sound that douses the last threads of his discretion in kerosine and sets them on fire. “Let them hear you,” he urges, words slurring together, “let them know who I belong to.”

It’s faint, but he hears it anyway: “Me. Me, you belong to—shit, to me.”

“That’s fucking right.”

You clench around him again, eyes rolling back, and Joshua knows he’s approaching his own end as his thrusts grow uncoordinated and sloppy. He asks if you can come again and tells you to touch yourself when you nod. Wishes he could see it, but he feels each swipe of your fingers against your clit as your walls flutter around him, and it’s enough to drag you both over the edge.

Once he catches his breath, he drops to his knees in front of you. Places one of your legs over his shoulder and kisses every inch of skin he can reach until he’s once again eye-level with your pussy, each one of his senses overwhelmed—the way your skin feels, the way you smell, the sound of your breath hitching when he flattens his tongue against your cunt and tastes himself, the disbelief and adoration in your eyes as you gaze down at him.

You finally answer the question he forgot he’d asked: “No,” you say, the word coming at the trail end of a blissful sigh, “it doesn’t bother me. Let them—let them talk. I’m not going anywhere.”

Joshua smiles. Bites at the juncture of your thigh just to watch you squirm. “Good, because I wasn’t planning on letting you leave this room.”

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Sharing and reblogging my work is the best way to show you enjoyed it, but I also accept any and all feedback and screaming in my inbox. <3

[satorurize]

Show me who you are..(p✩rnstar!)

Pornstar au; Sylus and Rafayel + a special bonus at the end <3

Warning: 18+, smut, MDNI, this is self indulgent and pure hornball energy, reader is fem

♡ Sylus

Definitely a solo performer, is infamous for his pov videos. Doesn't show his face since he's also the leader of the Onychinus and revealing his beautiful face would put him in a vulnerable situation.

He's got all the gears, the whips, harnesses, ropes. Soft BDSM was his forte. Initially he only did talk throughs for his massive and largely female audience, his subscriber count soaring through the roof just after his first video. His deep, raspy voice, ripped body and big cock did it for him.

But then, you came along, a captivated fan who sometimes took out time from your busy schedule as a hunter to indulge yourself in his videos, having no idea that it was actually the man you had encountered in the N109 zone. You had a hint, so you weren't too surprised when Sylus obliged to his dear fan to do a video together. He wasn't going to collaborate with anyone else besides you anyway.

He made sure you were blind folded with a lacy fabric which was enough for people to be able to recognise you.

He had you on your knees, hands tied onto your back with a clean knot, your beautiful bare body on display for him and his audience to enjoy.

Sylus dragged the tip of the cane tantalizingly, maybe perhaps with a playful sense of revenge from that one time you had him on his knees.

Your nipples were caressed beneath the leather of the cane, body shuddering at the cool sensation while heat pooled between your legs, you were embarrassingly wet with your inner thighs coated with your nectar.

Seeing a small trickle of your wetness down your thigh, Sylus immediately had an amused expression on his face. A smirk lacing his lips while he rubbed the leather now onto your soaked folds.

"Mh..please..more.." you pleaded in desperation, which was immediately followed by a soft spank with the cane onto your pussy, enough to make you jolt at the impact.

"Please what kitten..? Use your words." You let out a shaky breath at his sterness, it turning you on beyond measure.

"Please..sir.." Sylus was pleased with this switched dynamic, letting out a hum of approval as his fingers replaced the cane. The cacophony of your moans and the squelching from your wetness as he plunged his fingers within your cunt echoed the room.

Your body was worn as the man pulled orgasm and orgasm out of you. The floor a puddle of your juices as he made you squirt, over and over again. His greed really couldn't be satiated.

Some people were clearly envious of this very special guest but majority seemed to enjoy the new addition, the number of subscribers soared for him exponentially.

♡ Rafayel

Famous for his pretty face and passionate fucking. The way he did things in the bedroom were pure fun. Rafayel was providing his subscribers what most people weren't, and that was unadulterated romance between you and him.

The artist that he was, Rafayel shooting porn with you was always cinematic. The lighting, the angles where always set up in a manner that it would make the viewers even appreciate the aesthetics of it.

His sense of humor was incorporated in how he fucked, making his you laugh while he rearranged your guts and while managing to maintain his seductiveness. Took skill for most people, but Rafayel was a natural with his innate ability to be so..magnetic.

Anyone who craved watching "passionate sex", your and Rafayel's channel fit every single parameter of that genre.

Recently, the two of you were recorded a video in his bathtub, titled 'fucking my sweet girlfriend after a long day at work.'

Your back rested against his chest, his warmth merging with yours as he fondled with your breasts, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You giggled as you felt the tip of leaky cock brush against your folds and you decided to toy with him a little, pressing your thumb on his slit, with a glint of mischief in your eyes. A very evident throb passing between your legs when you heard him whimper for you.

That didn't really make you stop, now having your hand pump his length while you had your head turned to have your eyes gazing into his half-lidded ones, hazy with your touch.

It didn't take time for him to switch on you, making you face him with your thighs straddled onto him, with you positioned on top but the one to pull the strings was him, his hand settled onto your waist as you rode him slowly, but sensually. Each vein of his cock discerned against your cloying walls as you made love for the camera, that you forgot even existed.

He always made sure to give you a nice creampie by the end of it, or paint his cum onto your tits as the vision seemed to entice him. His videos were always inclusive of aftercare with him peppering kisses all over your body that appeared like worship. His and your fans always ate it up.

♡ Bonus! Sylus & Rafayel

You don't know what came over you, but you did not expect your beloved lemurian boyfriend to agree sharing you with Sylus for a video. There was some animosity in the beginning between the two, the bantering and both of them unleashing their sass upon each other.

However, all of it was soon wiped away when you were stuffed with Sylus' cock in your walls while your mouth skillfully worked on Rafayel's, hands placed onto his thighs for support. Things were a bit slow and steady at the beginning, neither of them really releasing their inhibitions until you begged them to be rougher.

Rafayel knew you could handle it, observing how well you took the other mans cock. He did feel a sense of pride in the end that you belonged to him.

"She can handle it, look at her..practically soaking your cock." He assured pulling out from your the hot cavern of your mouth. Rafayel leaned down nudging his nose on yours. "You can handle it, can't you cutie..?" You frantically nodded, all sense of shame already left body the moment the duo had you positioned between them on your knees. "Yes I want it..I want it so bad.." Sylus leaned in to plant kisses all over your back, tracing his fingers onto the cleft of your spine before he set a rougher pace as you asked. "Is this to your liking sweetie..?" Your replies only being a string of yeses and honeyed moans before your boyfriend gently guided on his cock again.

The two of them ruined you with pleasure together, leaving you to be a well fucked mess by the end of it.

Let's just say, this video remained too exclusive to be uploaded anywhere.

[archivingkal]

last updated: 25/03/2025

note: unless otherwise stated everything on this list is completed

BANG CHAN

LOVER OF MINE BY @sulfurcosmos (SMAU)

she doesn’t hate him, she just... doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore. “it’s bad for my heart”, she claims. and she succeeds for a whole year until her clown of a friend felix, decides to take up music production as a summer extra credit unit knowing absolutely nothing about writing lyrics or composing. now who else to ask for help other than a creative writing major who specialises in poetry, and the best music production student on campus?

FACE THE MUSIC BY @0x1lovebot (SMAU)

y/n runs an anonymous twitter fan account for the famous rap trio that goes to her school, 3racha and one day she professes her love and appreciation for bang chan on said account. now chan is on a mission to find out who it is.

SORRY, RIGHT NUMBER BY @feelbokkie (SMAU)

Being an idol can be lonely and isolating. After one fun and adventurous night at a bar, Chan decides to text the girl he met the night before. Except, she gave him the the wrong number?

IF WE COULD TURN BACK TIME BY @lieslab

After a Dispatch article leaks, your betrayed boyfriend kicks you out of your shared apartment and you're silenced in the worst way possible.

NIGHT AGAIN BY @chahnniesroom

in hindsight, visiting chan's studio right before a comeback isn't one of your best ideas. what was supposed to be a pleasant surprise leaves you spiraling into self-doubt, wondering if chan even wants to be in a relationship with you at all.

FATE BROUGHT US TOGETHER AGAIN BY @beautifulchris (SMAU)

after spending two years abroad, you come back to the only college that accepted you; the same chris goes to

the prequel: LOVE DIE YOUNG

CURE BY @gamerwoo (HANAHAKI AU)

Chan was in love with a girl that didn’t return his feelings, and as his best friend, you wanted to help him through it. But his options were either to make her fall in love with him, make him fall out of love with her, or for him to get the disease removed, and he was dead set on avoiding the latter.

LEE MINHO

FELINE APPROVAL BY @ivyues

How Soonie and Lee Know agreed you were the one. (the definition of short and sweet)

THE JOURNAL BY @theright-sideofme (SMAU)

When y/n loses her most prize possession, what are the chances of her high school ex finding it? Apparently, suprisingly high.

SEO CHANGBIN

PUSH + PULL BY @yoongisleftearring (SMAU)

in which you are trying to survive college life but seem to have a thorn in your side in the form of Seo Changbin. After years of hating each other can you decide to remain civil with the handsome rapper? (let’s just hope he doesn’t come across that private thirst account you have for him)

THE ALTERNATIVE BY @astraystayyh

You've diligently chased the idea of being with Changbin out of your mind. That is until he picks you up from a bad date, making your steadfast resolve unravel all around you.

HWANG HYUNJIN

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT BY @soobnny

hyunjin stresses how important it is that you help him practice for his role in your university’s upcoming play, especially the kissing scene.

THE WAY WE STOPPED BEING ALMOST AND BECAME ALWAYS BY @mykoreanlove

(the title for this one is pretty self explanatory and it's just as easily a wonderful read)

HAN JISUNG

NUMBER NEIGHBOUR BY @softyn (SMAU)

Jisung has been a fan of y/n since he can remember, what will happen when y/n posts her new youtube video texting her number neighbor who turned out to be Jisung?

SUNSHINE BY @svngbins (SMAU)

y/n’s only secret is that she’s in love with her childhood best friend, jisung. the only problem? y/n’s other best friend, aerin, has a not-so-secret crush on jisung.

LEE FELIX

THE MIXTAPES BY @cookielixie (SMAU)

y/n is in love with her bestfriend. what other way to express yourself than posting mixtapes about your love on twitter?

SO NOT WORTH IT BY @lemon-boy-stan (SMAU)

felix joins the popular kids after becoming bang chan's roommate. when he and y/n collide, the twitter world goes beserk. (loosely based on the k-drama so not worth it).

KIM SEUNGMIN

MY VALENTINE KIM SEUNGMIN BY @pixiefelixie

your 17-year-old dog, who had survived chocolate poisoning, a bicycle accident, and a raccoon fight, finally passed away peacefully—proving that even the most legendary warriors must one day retire. in your grief, you completely fell apart, only to realize your usually sarcastic boyfriend might actually be capable of being soft and supportive—something even more shocking than your dog’s immortality finally running out.

YELLOW STICKER BY @/soobnny

kim seungmin, resident fuckboy turned soft boy, is on a mission to quit smoking

YANG JEONGIN

IT'S NOT THE END OF THE WORLD BY @staysuki (SMAU)

it was either you're a coward who couldn't confess your hidden feelings towards your crush who you've been best friends with since high school OR perhaps fate is just conspiring against you to make your timing with yang jeongin to never be quite right— it's definitely the second one, right? oh well, at least it's not the end of the world.

MY GIRL BY @/soobnny

the boys find out their youngest has a gf

OT8

CLUELESS BY @hanniebaeee

Just eight boys and their very chaotic group chat.

TRUE SOULMATE SERIES BY @imagine-a-life-like-this

(eight stories about different soulmate 'marks'/'systems' in a completely unconnected universe so you can read in whatever order your heart desires or just read the one that interests you the most but they're all very fun to read)

SOOBNNY'S MASTERLIST BY SUE

(as you can probably see I'm a little bit of a sue truther so please head on over to her masterlist and read her works - please and thanks)

more to come...

[cottageivy]

and if i cry, then what

[coolseabird]

Random Musings on Gale and His Relationship With Mystra

I find Gale's relationship with Mystra to be one of the most fascinating parts of his story. It’s a dynamic that can be viewed in many different ways, depending on how you approach it and I think that’s part of what makes it so compelling. While some might see it literally, I’d like to explore it through a more allegorical perspective, though I want to be clear: this is just one way to interpret their relationship, and other viewpoints are just as valuable. This isn't even the only way that I personally interpret them haha. (I just have to be nuanced, it's a compulsion truly.)

In literature and mythology, take Greek mythology, for instance, relationships between gods and mortals can often carry deeper, symbolic meanings. The gods aren’t always just powerful beings they can represent larger forces like nature, fate, or human desires. This approach, called allegorical interpretation, is something I find really enjoyable! It adds layers to a story.

Consider the famous story of Paris’s judgment of the goddesses. The goddess Eris, seeking to sow discord, throws a golden apple inscribed “for the fairest” into a wedding attended by Athena, Hera, and Aphrodite. They decide to have the mortal Paris judge who deserves the apple most out of the three of them and is thus the fairest.

Each goddess offers Paris a gift in exchange for the title. Athena offers great tactical ability, Hera promises leadership over vast kingdoms, and Aphrodite tempts him with the love of Helen, the most beautiful woman in the world (who happens to already be married). Paris chooses Aphrodite, gains Helen as a lover and this leads to the Trojan War. Beyond the literal reading, this story can be seen as desire (Aphrodite) overcoming both wisdom (Athena) and marriage (Hera). Paris's fatal flaw is his lust for Helen. The story can also be interpreted as Paris losing due to declining to accept both of the other offers. He fails strategically in the ensuing war and also causes the collapse of his own kingdom.

Mystra, as the living incarnation of the Weave, can be interpreted similarly. She isn’t merely Gale's ex-lover. She is magic itself, the force that gives Gale his entire identity. Their relationship transcends romance; it’s more like that of a man consumed by his craft to an unhealthy degree. Like a mathematician to mathematics, or a physicist to physics, he's in love with something that can't love him back.

His attempt to give Mystra a gift she's never received before, something truly incredible, is due to his belief that transcending all limits to somehow earn Mystra’s (and thus, magic’s and his life's work's) recognition is both possible and necessary. It was 100% done with the best intentions but tragically any all-consuming passion carries the risk of blowing up in your face. (Just look at Alfred Nobel, pun intended) And, due to the aforementioned "blow up", his emotional low and his measurable low in his abilities correspond quite directly

There is a cut dialogue from early access about how much of his power he lost after this:

You see, this fire – there was a time that I could make it come alive. That it would take the shape of a dragon and roar in delight. There was a time I could silence a Beholder with a word, and lift a tower from its foundations with a flourish. There was a time I was all but one with the Weave. But no more – a mere shadow of the wizard I used to be. Why? Because I’ve lost.

A key theme in their relationship (in my opinion) is not just Mystra’s rejection but what her rejection represents: The collapse of Gale’s identity as a powerful magic user. (An identity he's built his life around and sacrificed for ever since he was a child)

Without this, he starts self destructing. He has to make do with consuming scraps of magic rather than the all encompassing sort he used to receive from Mystra's presence.

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

While Mystra’s treatment of Gale is undeniably harmful, I think it’s important to recognize that she is not cruel in a personal, calculated way. She is so out of touch with normal people that she’s more akin to a force of nature. As an arbiter of natural laws, she wants to control him/kill him because he represented a destabilizing influence, not out of any targeted animosity. (Which is arguably worse than outright hate depending on your point of view)

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

Now for a bit of a change in topic I wanted to go over his different endings:

His "good" ending comes from the realization that magic, or any external force, cannot be the source of true self-worth. The deeper theme here, beyond just getting over an ex-relationship, is that Gale must learn to build relationships with people and and find a healthy balance between his work and personal life, rather than devoting himself wholly to impersonal things at the cost of his well-being. He has to learn that he is "Galenough," as @ekansbot once put it. Ultimately, his growth in this regard is best shown with his choice to embrace his ordinary, human last name "Dekarios", rather than defining himself solely as the archmage "of Waterdeep."

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

More evidence about the meaning of names to him, earlier during the conversation with Mystra in the tabernacle, she will either call him "Gale Dekarios" if she's displeased to remind him of his humanity, or"Gale of Waterdeep" when pleased to inflate his ego with a title. This shows how revolutionary it is for him to willingly forego having a title at all in this ending as it had been something he sought in the past.

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

Alternatively, and more fun for my tragedy-loving psyche, he can totally succumb to his flaws and lose himself. In this case the orb's desires fully supplant him as a person. He becomes a power hungry god, doomed to perpetuate the same callousness Mystra showed to him. His grand dreams of bettering the world fades, and his only goals shift to slowly gathering more power and followers and eventually challenging the rest of the gods. He entirely gives up on being a "person" he's the god of ambition now, and you can see it in the way he speaks how much he has mentally separated himself from the mortal world. He has fully given up on having a life outside of his obsessions. It’s quite dark. (Though not quite as dark as my absolute favorite, the Absolute ending, where you use thousands of mind controlled innocents to become Kratos.)

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

Something that's extra sad for you. If the player character chooses to break up with him after becoming a god he says "so I'm still not enough for you" Aghh it's horrible. His insecurities only get worse as a god.

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

Or... he could kill himself. Literally destroying his darker hungers (the orb) for an altruistic purpose, but he also, obviously, destroys himself in the process. Very sad indeed.

Now, here’s something I find fascinating:

If Gale chooses not to use the crown, nor to surrender it to Mystra, but instead lets it remain in the water, the orb stays within him but rather than being a catastrophe it actually becomes harmless and inert.

Why does this happen? Gale speculates that it's because he has found contentment due to the player character's romance with him.

Clip sourced from this video: https://youtu.be/gikRKEIpvQs

This reveals something crucial: the orb, from the very beginning, was tied to his own emotions. It was basically an extension of him all along. He was inadvertently the one driving the orb’s power. It was his own despair and obsession that were indirectly killing him the entire time! It's very tragic but also supremely interesting!

It is this somewhat gut wrenching realization, though, that makes this the best "good" ending. He doesn't have to apologize to Mystra to get a happy ending out of pity. Instead, it is his own emotional catharsis that resolves the problem of the orb internally, rather than it being fixed through external means. It also has a sort of Jungian quality to it that I really like. With the idea of integrating and accepting all parts of oneself (allowing the orb to remain, but becoming settled and integrated), rather than trying to shed them being a theme I think fits his character well. Additionally, he keeps the orb scar, which looks pretty neat. :)

[greensagephase]

Flores Amarillas

pairing: husband!miguel o'hara x spouse!reader wc: 713 summary: You always daydreamed about receiving yellow flowers (work's title) on the start of spring. warnings: some Spanish; established relationship note: for more info regarding this work; check the ask!

[lyrics below from the song listed;]

Ella sabía que él sabía [She knew that he knew]

Que algún día pasaría [one day it would happen]

Que vendría a buscarla [That he’d come look for her]

Con sus flores amarillas [With her yellow flowers]

-♡-

You were just a kid when you were already thinking of him. You daydreamed and innocently fantasized about meeting him one day.

He had no name, nor did he have a face.

Yet, you dreamed about him and of yellow flowers.

To be specific, you dreamed of one day receiving yellow flowers from a man who you imagined would be close to a prince charming.

You’d listen to the song “Flores Amarillas” from the famous telenovela and sing it to the best of your ability, daydreaming about having that experience one day; of receiving yellow flowers as a romantic gesture from the love of your life.

Even in your teenage years, this illusion followed you. The unhealthy number of telenovelas you consumed growing up with your parents along with being a hopeless romantic didn't help. During those years, you waited, illusioned that that person would come along. With a pure golden heart, you imagined running one day into him; a man who would be waiting for you with a yellow flower, who would notice the shine in your pupils. You imagined the sun would be out, casting its gentle yellow as you finally crossed paths with that special man.

As time went on, you realized that purely daydreaming about it wouldn't automatically manifest it and you eventually let it go, even when you saw others experience what your child and teenager self yearn so much for.

-♡-

Outside, you hear the birds chirping. Earlier, you noted the blooming flowers in your garden. A gentle yellow, pollen, covers surfaces, inciting spring allergies for many, yet helping the flowers and bees.

You sit on your couch, now many years older amd established, when you rediscover the song while scrolling through your social media. Listening to it, you realize you still remember every word. It almost feels like running into an old friend who you haven't seen in a long, long, long time.

En ese bar tan desierto nos esperaba el encuentro [in that bar so deserted the meet up waited for us]

Ella llegó en limusina amarilla por supuesto [she arrived in a yellow limousine of course]

Él se acercó de repente la miro tan de frente [he approached suddenly looking at her straight ahead]

Toda una vida soñada y no pudo decir nada [an entire life dreamed of and he couldn't say anything]

The scent of his cologne reaches you first before you feel a soft kiss pressed to your cheek. It automatically brings a smile to your face, pulling you away from your thoughts. Still smiling, you look up and meet that warm gaze, warm like yellow and deep like coffee.

“Ella sabía que él sabía, que algún día pasaría [she knew he knew, one day it would happen],” Miguel sings softly with a warm smile.

“Que vendría a buscarla, con sus flores amarillas [That he’d come look for her with her yellow flowers],” you say, finishing that part of the song.

“I remember when that song was so popular,” Miguel comments, gently cupping your face.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. You want to know something, mi vida [my life]?” Miguel asks. “I forgot all about that song until today. It came up on my feed this morning and remembered I once used to imagine, as a kid, finding a beautiful and sweet individual to gift yellow flowers to.”

Chuckling, you caress Miguel’s forearms as he continues to cup your face. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Miguel answers before leaning forward. He presses a sweet and gentle kiss to your forehead, smiling at you before releasing your face. He reaches behind you to retrieve something, still smiling. “Unas flores amarillas para ti, mi amor [yellows flowers for you, my love],” Miguel murmurs, handing you a beautiful bouquet of yellow flowers. “For the most beautiful, sweetest, kindest person in the whole world.”

The sight and scent of the cheerful flowers brightens your day, but Miguel’s words brighten it even more. You accept the flowers, your heart blooming with love and appreciation for the man that you now have the privilege of calling your husband.

You chuckle softly, admiring them while feeling the love from Miguel.

"I knew one day I'd find you," you murmur, finally looking at him again. "After daydreaming of you for so long."

"Y yo por ti [and I about you]," your husband replies, his illusion of gifting flowers to the love of his life, finally accomplished.

Thank you @ashnelyi for the ask!

Thank you so much for reading!

Alondra❤️

divider credit: @enchanthings-a

[crepesuzette2023]

A few brief, initial thoughts about the Ian Leslie excerpt in the Sunday Times

(link here—free to read today (Sunday), and a new excerpt will be published next week, apparently?) • I'm enjoying the romantic tone that doesn't sensationally reveal, but mentions as a matter of course: "In music they could say what they felt without having to say it. The songs they wrote and sang together were not “about” their feelings — they were their feelings, including those for each other." • Related to this, I'm enjoying the presentation—the choice of title, And I Love Him—the famous Mike McCartney photograph of John and Paul writing together, before they were famous. The vibes are the opposite of overblown or salacious or darkly Freudian or what have you.

• Both of them notice and appreciate not only each other's talent at first sight, but also each other's looks.

• I also liked the description of Julia through John's eyes. To me, it resonates both with (Woodland Sprite elusive traveling twirling moustache-wearer) Paul, and John's own way of showing love by tickling, teasing, prodding—hands-on, with little nuance in his affection. (Shameless speculation on my end, obviously, and not meant to pathologize John.) "Julia reappeared intermittently, shimmeringly. When she visited Mendips she would hug him, tickle him and vanish; later on, when he started visiting her, he was made to feel at home without ever feeling truly at home. Julia was loving and magnetic and always just out of reach. He adored Julia in part because she did not act like a mother, but he dearly wished her to be one."

And, finally, I think this is an interesting point: Is Paul introduced as the compromise between Julia and Mimi? The person who showed John that he didn't have to choose between two opposites?

Wouldn't that be so appropriate? because Paul is The Binary! "These two women, who between them were the biggest influences on John’s formative years, offered diametrically opposed models for how to live. One represented hard work and self-discipline. The other represented freedom and self-expression. In 1957 it must have felt to John that life was about choosing between these two paths. Then along came Paul."

Not a lot, but this feels like A Moment, so I wanted to share.

All quotes, in case that wasn't clear, by Ian Leslie.

[buoyantsaturn]

concert was so good <3 when bert said the used is the best band in the world and also that a box full of sharp objects is the best song ever written he was right <3

somebody reminds me to do the game rosy tagged me in tomorrow bc I'm at a concert. last song I listened to being a cover of fast car by a band nobody has ever heard of it kinda funny though

[pupkashi]

gojo satoru masterlist !

* fluff ^ angst

— all for my angel boy <3

main masterlist // gojo masterlist cont.

* boyfriend!gojo hcs

* rainy evenings

in which gojo gets himself caught in the rain

* christmas cuddles

gojo finds his place in the universe

* arcades

arcades are scams, he knows, but dammit gojo will win you that prize

* flowers

gojo is a self-certified flower enthusiast

* periods

gojo is an angel on earth when you get your period

* sugar rush ride

gojo loves sugar, and you’re too sweet to resist

* priorities

gojo has his priorities straight: you’ll always be the most important

* rough day

gojo will always cheer you up after a rough day

* mornings

satoru loves mornings with you

* egg hunting

gojo’s never been easter egg hunting, you decide it’s time for the famous bunny to pay him a visit

* sunday love

sundays with gojo are slow and sweet

* grocery shopping headcanons

*^ jealousy, jealousy

the worst part of dating gojo? how often he gets hit on

* movie night

satoru gojo has developed a new weakness: romcoms

* migraine

gojo helps ease the pain of your migraine

* picnics

in which mother nature decides picnics are no good without a little rain

* after like

you and satoru say the L word

* my you

gojo learns he loves stargazing

* titles

in which gojo realizes you truly see him

* going to an observatory

* costume parties

* a scenic drive with him

* time

gojo will always make sure you’re taken care of

*^ hugs

“can i hug you? you look like you could do with it”

* sweet nothing

gojo always finds himself running home to you

* clean linen

gojo’s second favorite smell is your laundry detergent

* untitled

the last person you expect to patch you up is gojo satoru, so why are you knocking on his door?

* azul

when you think of love, you think of the color blue

* oranges

gojo knows how to peel oranges

* pretty boy

gojo has to let you know how much you mean to him

* sick

gojo’s favorite hobby is being your personal nurse

* scrapbooks

satoru isn’t a sentimental person, until he is

*^ nightmares

satoru has nightmares, but also long as you’re by his side he knows he’ll be okay

* easy

loving is easy when it’s gojo satoru

*^ scars

gojo learns to love the scars on his body

*^ arguments

arguments are never nice, but at least they help you grow

* birthmarks

even in his past lives, satoru was always loved

* pizza time!

or the one time satoru tries to make pizza from scratch and is effectively banned from ever trying again

* mistletoe-go

satoru comes up with a new Christmas tradition

* new year, new superstition

whoever said wearing red on new years brought love was onto something

* kisses

satoru always makes sure your lips are well kissed

* volví a nacer

gojo feels life start anew now that you’re by his side

* f1 racer!satoru hc’s

* to love is to linger

* cereal, soup and other deep questions

* “what do you think you’d be doing if we never met?”

* “you’re bleeding!” “I was trying to cut the tomatoes!”

* “i have a meeting in an hour! get out of the bathroom!”

* “you’re my everything”

* "what do you mean you've never gone trick-or-treating?!"

* going to the fair hcs

* collegebf!satoru

* study buddy!satoru

* birthday special <3

* satoru loves yapping [to you]

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[ebonyslasher]

Robbers Getting Clobbered

Summary: Like the title says, robbers get they ass clobbered for breaking into your house. SlasherxBlack!Reader, as always. A request from an Ao3 user.

It was a Monday night, and you had a really rough day at work. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. Today needed an extra thorough self-care session.

After a heavenly shower and skin routine session, you sunk into bed. While watching your favorite film, you steadily ate a bag of delicious peach rings. Stu and Billy were in the basement doing...whatever. You don't remember. They told you that they would be there most of the night.

That was very much fine by you, more quiet time!

30 minutes into the film, you heard a bump. Thinking it was one of the boys, you continued watching.

1 minute later, you hear a few more du-du-du's in quick succession. You pause your movie and sit up to listen. A small *click* was not lost on your ears. You knew that sound. A door was unlocked, and it was much too close to be the basement.

Someone else was in the house. Ruining your self-care time.

Incensed, you jumped up and snagged the beloved metal bat that rested underneath your bed. It was the perfect time to use it. You dash to open your door. A resounding whoosh led to the image of- oh well looka there!

The victim assailant dead center in the hallway, crouched like a deer in headlights.

"So you just gon-"

*TING *

"AH! I'M SORRY I'M SORRY!" The robber yelled.

"IF- *ting* YOU WERE- *ting* SORRY- *ting* YOU WOULDN'T- *ting* BREAK INTO PEOPLE'S HOUSES!"

Stu and Billy heard the commotion and booked it up the stairs

They make it to see the most intense scene of you battering the poor robber

They were both stunned for different reasons. Stu couldn't believe how violent you were being. And how good you looked doing it. Sheesh!

Billy was in awe. The blood that littered the ground after each hit added to his growing admiration for you.

The situation gave them the famous urge to finish the "job" for you.

They sprung into action, grabbing your bat and yelling at you to stop.

"We'll take it from here, baby. Damn you did a number on 'em." Stu said, laughing in amusement.

They take the bat and the unconscious victim to "finish" the situation in the basement.

After some time, they return to clean all the blood.

They are sooo impressed and hot under the collar. You looked so fucking hot hitting them like that, shit. That would be burned in their memories forever.

"Baby, we'll pamper you the rest of the night. We're so proud of you. You deserve it." Billy said.

Michael was, yet again, out doing whatever he does best: stabbing bitches. It was a cool Saturday night, and you couldn't sleep. No matter how hard you tried, you kept tossing and turning in the bed. So now, you were laid out on the couch. It was 1 am, and you were spacing out at whatever was on the TV screen.

Honestly, you wished you were out doing something. Like being goofy at your friend's place or getting some drinks at the bar. Just something to occupy your mind. But...you couldn't be bothered to go out. That required energy you didn't have. But you wanted something to entertain you.

UGH. You were BORED out of your mind.

Please, you just needed something to do. Something interesting. Something entertaining! Even if it was awful- you didn't care. Your bones were desperate for anything and everything to-

As if the universe read your mind, the sound of glass breaking alerted you. Now you knew it wasn't Michael. He only did that if he really wanted something or someone to stab. And he was already out there stabbing.

This was a break-in.

You stood up in absolute glee. This was perfect.

Now, the normal, average person would be terrified of this occurring. They'd scramble to call the police and hide until they get there. You weren't the standard person, though. As chaotic as you were, you were waiting to beat someone up. Just go to town on their ass.

As the robber struggled to get to the door knob, you looked around for a weapon. You quickly spot a thick, black leather belt Michael wore with casual clothing. A nefarious grin stretched across your face as you grabbed the glorious belt.

The moment the robber opened the front door, you stood by the living room doorway. There was a short hallway between the living room and the front door. And your PS5 sat entincingly under the 50-inch flat screen TV that you knew the robber could see. The moment you saw a that poor figure step through the threshold, you whacked the shit out of them. There was a tiny noise of surprise before you went to town on their ass. And like your killer boyfriend, you were absolutely silent as you worked that ass into the floor.

There's a moment where you lose your momentum. One of your slippers was coming off.

"Damn, my shoe slippin," you stated casually before continuing.

Michael just so happened to be walking back to the house when he spotted the unknown figure walking into the house

He magically transports to the house in no time to enter in a fantastic scene.

He almost hollered in laughter when he heard your casual statement. Damn, you were cold.

You would look more intimidating if you weren't so cute in your pajamas. But, he's sure you were striking fear into that robbers' heart.

He couldn't get over how damn good you looked. You were definitely after his own cold ass heart.

As much as he'd love to continue watching this person's torture, he was tired and ready to sleep.

He steps forward to push you away and then starts to stab the man

He looks to you to clean up the blood as he discards the corpse. But before he leaves, Michael gives you a double thumbs up in approval

Danny Johnson (Ghostface)

The bright sun that once stood over the city now sat at the horizon. A cool, light breeze blew through the surprisingly quiet neighborhood. No children ran around, no shouting, and no random suspicious people hobbling around. It was the perfect time to go on your walk with Danny. Forget long walks on the beach; this was romantic enough. The comfortable silence between you two caterted to an unspoken intimacy. It was a rare moment for him to be so calm.

10 minutes into the walk, your phone chirps with an alert. You casually checked your phone and saw a very concerning message: '⚠️CRITICAL There is a person at your driveway.' Your casual pace comes to a halt as you open the app. Danny stops as well, looking at you with a concerned expression.

"Y/N, what's up?"

You tell him to hold on while you watch the video before you. It was someone with their hoodie covering the top half of their face. They kept observing the surrounding scene while jiggling with your front door knob. Someone was trying to break in.

Oh

Oh okay.

Lucky for you and the local morgue, you had the strap ready for action. A smooth 9 mm sat in your holster hidden within your jacket. You grabbed the gun and cock it so it'd be ready to blast upon arrival.

"Someone's breaking in our house," you quickly state while turning back. You start to jog back, with Danny in tow, yelling at you to wait up and that he'd handle it.

Nah, no time to wait now, and you were going to handle it yourself.

As you got closer to your house, you could see the figure peering into the window while still trying to get into the house. The dumbass.

"Ay bruh, who is you?!" The phrase flew out your mouth as you started to skip toward the figure.

They spun around, grabbing at whatever was in their pocket. Not taking any chances, you shoot twice dead at their chest.

"Holy shit!!!!" Danny was flabbergasted by your actions

His mouth was so wide open you could see his tonsils. "Y/N!!!!"

Fuck, he couldn't think of what to say. His whole world was blown away. Just like that robber who was very dead on the ground

He didn't even know you knew how to shoot a damn gun! Much less willing to use it on someone.

He's glad that it was an obvious self-defense situation. Easy for the police to investigate and get the fuck out of their business.

Pissed that he can't act on his killing urges for a while though. The pigs will still take their sweet time to investigate. Damn

Overall: He was impressed, although a little scared of you now.

He had to admit, it was very sexy seeing you stand on business. "That's my Y/N."

[dragonbarbie]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Part 2

aegon x best friend!reader ; modern!au

series summary: this fic is snippets of aegon and reader's relationship as they grow up and discover new feelings. but to let himself be loved, aegon has to first do some growing up. loosely inspired by the tv series one day!

rating: 18+, minors dni.

tags: alcohol, substance abuse, making out, titty sucking, blink and youll miss it dry humping (lmk if i missed something)

word count: 5.1k

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series masterlist

A/N: im so overwhelmed by the response to the first chapter! im so sorry this took so long, this chapter was originally well over 8k so ive just decided to split it, which means the next chapter is pretty much ready maybe ill have it up by wednesday. thank you so much to everyone who interacted, hope you like this. [not beta read!]

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

divider credit @cafekitsune ! title of fic is from 'peter' by taylor swift.

Age 18

“i think that’s enough pictures, mum.” y/n held up her arms to shield herself from any more photographs her mother might take. she felt self-conscious enough already, grimacing at every picture, thinking how the flaws glaringly stood out. her parents thought she looked beautiful as always though, and wanted as many photos as possible to keep as memories of their daughter’s special night. only she didn’t want to believe there was anything so ‘special’ about it anyway.

she heard an impatient car honk coming from outside, just in time for her to make her exit. “let me at least take a picture of you and your date.” her well-meaning mother attempted, earning a whine from her daughter, “for the last time he’s not my date.” not really he wasn’t, they were just going as mates, nothing more, she reminded herself as she waved her parents a quick goodbye.

then why did her stomach flutter seeing aegon leaning against his irritatingly green, flashy sports car. taking a drag of his cigarette, his platinum hair was mostly gelled back, few strands allowed to fall to his eyes either fashionably or as a result of hurry. he was dressed simply, black suit and a white shirt. but seven hells did he wear the hell out of that suit, y/n had to admit. he looked neater than usual, the light stubble he usually carried had now been shaved off, his eyes didn’t look nearly as red as she was accustomed to. he even wore dress shoes, when truthfully y/n had been betting on him showing up in his usual jordans.

she couldn’t help but beam as she realised walking towards him, that all this effort he had made for her. aegon hadn’t even wanted to go to their senior prom. he’d said he would simply throw the after-party for the prom back at his mansion, where he wouldn’t be required to ‘come dressed as a penguin,’ in his words. the entire school knew about aegon’s famous ragers by now, and the night of senior prom was guaranteed to be the greatest ‘one-last-hurrah’.

it was y/n who had wanted to go, in order to live the full high school experience before they would be forced to enter the adult world after summer. and there was no one else she would have rather taken to prom. so, after countless hours begging and pleading (and some threatening), aegon finally relented. but his acquiescence hadn’t guaranteed to her that he would even bother following the dress code. yet, here they were.

she was going to comment on what a pleasant surprise it was to see him look like a ‘penguin,’ when she saw the look on his face. his eyes were suddenly alert and his mouth slightly agape, cigarette in his hand forgotten momentarily with his hand hanging still in the air holding it.

“what is it? do i have something on my face? on the dress?” she patted her cheek in alarm, before looking down at her dress. she’d chosen a simple black, satin dress that hugged her just right, pairing it with the deepest red lipstick she could find. she smoothened the front in anxiety, scared her high heels were going to make her trip on the fabric any second.

“no, it’s just...you look nice. very pretty.” her eyes focussed on aegon’s trying to gauge his expression, but his gaze remained transfixed on her figure.

“is it that shocking that i would look pretty, that you have to go and make that face?” she snorted. that snapped aegon’s attention back to her face with an eyeroll, “i didn’t mean it like that and you know it. you look good, would it kill you to just take the compliment?” her lips turned upwards at his words, “yeah i’m just messing with ya.” she tried to hide how the praise made her feel warm inside her chest.

“you don’t look so bad yourself, targaryen. look you’re even wearing the shoes and everything.” aegon grinned at the words giving a quick twirl to show off his full look. “who knew you had it in you?” she teased.

“had to step up my game. can't let my date outshine me, can i?"

date? the word rang in her ears. did aegon think this was an actual date?

“oh, please,” she tried to maintain a cool façade, seemingly uncaring of his words, “i've always outshined you.”

“only because i let you.” he claimed, flashing her one of those lazy half smiles of his that would make her mind wander to what else he was capable of doing with those lips—

she immediately shook her head to get that image out of her mind.

“got you something. well, technically mum got you something” aegon opened the passenger seat of the car, and retrieved from it a beautiful, very expensive looking bouquet. “she wouldn’t let me leave the house without flowers for my date” there it was, that word again, ‘date’!  she thought, astonished as she received them.

did aegon think this was a date? a date-date? was he expecting something? did she expect something? her mind started to race with a hundred things.

she had to clear her throat to bring herself back to the present, “these are beautiful, tell alicent i love them.”

“great, can we go now? i want to get the boring part over with so we can properly party later at my place.”

the prom itself ended up being less dreadful than aegon had been sure it was going to be. aegon spiked the drinks, and then proceeded to get his friends leon and martyn as drunk as possible. it didn’t escape y/n’s notice that aegon himself, was merely buzzed. she even dared to hope for a second that he was limiting his cups out of respect for her, and her very known hatred of his drinking himself into blackouts.

he remained clear-headed enough to laugh about and reminisce with her over their years at the academy. “no, i remember clearly, you’ve never once said sorry about making me fall on my first day.” y/n accused as she attempted to drink the very strong punch aegon had made for her. “and i remember very clearly, you came in my way.”

she narrowed her eyes at his blatant lie. “cunt.” he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at her drunken-vitriol. “and i think that’s quite enough for you.” he grabbed the cup out of her hands in spite of protests. “good gods, aegon targaryen preaching moderation? must be the apocalypse.” she nudged him playfully.

in that moment, smiling and laughing with her best friend, she couldn’t help but realise that this time of their life was coming to an end. come fall, they would be on different sides of the country.

y/n had been accepted at her first choice, sunspear university only weeks ago, but she hadn’t discussed it with aegon. he hadn’t spoken of his plans for university either but helaena had told her that their grandfather was using his pull to get him into the family alma mater, oldtown college.

any time she had attempted to so much as talk about life beyond school with aegon himself though, aegon would get irritated and cagey, eager to shut down any and all conversations about the future. then again she couldn’t blame him, for some reason her first instinct too had been to hide that acceptance letter from him.

yet as they stood there, she had a feeling that he was thinking about the same great uncertainty that lay ahead too. thinking, that their days of being by each other’s side like this every day were numbered.

“come on” he suddenly offered her his arms, getting a puzzled look in return. “you wanted the ‘full high school experience’ right? dancing at prom is kinda the main thing.”

she let him lead her to the dance floor, feeling her cheeks going red. he brought them right in the middle, and when he placed her arms around his neck, his own hands becoming placed around her waist, she couldn’t find a word to say.

couples around them were slow dancing to some song she couldn’t quiet place, and she couldn’t believe that aegon had willingly placed himself in the scene around them. this suit, the shoes, the dancing, the flowers – none of it was remotely close to his scene. yet she had barely heard him complain. she had to give it to him, he had been on his best behaviour because he knew how much the night meant to her.

“thank you,” she finally said, looking at him with adoration in her eyes. “for agreeing to come.”

aegon’s expression was unreadable at first. after a second he seemed like he was going to lean in towards her to say something, when his eye caught something behind y/n shoulder.

she turned her neck to see who it was and felt her heart drop down in her stomach.

cassandra baratheon, the most sought-after girl at school, her golden hair and confident demeanour were hard to miss. y/n looked up to see aegon was transfixed on the tight red dress she wore.

she felt his hands drop from her waist, “get you something to drink?” but he didn’t so much as look at his friend.

“sure” she mumbled, trying to mask her disappointment, but he didn’t wait for a response before he started walking towards the blonde.

she watched as aegon approached cassandra, his charm on full display. y/n sighed, tired of how predictable his routine was. she danced with a few classmates, trying to keep her spirits up, but it wasn’t the same without aegon.

after a while, she grew tired of pretending and slipped out of the ballroom, certain she wasn’t going to be followed by the only person she wanted to be with. she started walking in the direction of her home, too angry to think to call someone to pick her up.

the sound of her heels against the pavement and the chattering of her own teeth from the unexpectedly cold night couldn’t distract her from her woeful thoughts.

she should have expected this, she chided herself. aegon’s attention had always been fleeting, especially when it came to pretty girls. but it still hurt. she had hoped, maybe just for tonight, things would be different. at the beginning of the night he’d been giving her all his attention, and making her feel as if she was the only one who mattered in that room.

yet, he had to go ahead and ruin that, by chasing one more skirt to add to his long list of distractions from anything that could actually matter.

when she reached her house she was grateful her parents had long since gone to bed, not wanting to talk about her night.  she walked up to her room and changed into some comfortable clothes.

she curled up on her bed, but sleep seemed to escape her. she tossed and turned but she could not forget the look on her best friend’s face when he looked at cassandra baratheon, ignoring her. she couldn’t help but wish that the way his eyes trailed down her figure, the open lust with which he watched her, the desire that carried him away from her – she wanted it all to be hers.

it was perhaps the first time she had admitted it to herself. she wanted this, she wanted him and not just as a friend.

her mind then wandered to that one moment of hope she had not dared to let herself dwell on. the way his hands felt rested on her back, how he looked for a split second as if he were going to lean in to her, what might that have felt like if it had been allowed to go on? would he have kissed her? would his lips have felt as soft as they looked? would his tongue—

she didn’t realise when in the middle of all these wandering thoughts her hand had slipped down to underneath her shorts. over the cloth of her panties, she could feel a wetness building as she slowly rubbed the top of her entrance, her imagination building up the tension between her legs.

just as she was getting comfortable though, she got the fright of her life when she heard her window open. “fuck me!” she sat up straight on her bed, clutching her blanket in front of her chest.

she let out an exasperated breath at the now-messy platinum hair glinting in the moonlight, that she could make out even in the darkness of her room. she moved to get up and turn on the lamp next to her bed. the light revealed a slightly different aegon to the one she had left back at the dance, stumbling into her room.

his jacket now gone, his white shirt was untucked and the first few buttons had been left undone (one of them was missing, from what she could tell), the semi-open shirt allowed her to make out lipstick smears trailing his chest. his eyes were red, and the fact that he couldn’t seem to walk straight, told her he’d returned to drinking at his usual pace once she’d made her exit.

“what are you doing here?” she sighed, crossing her arms across her chest, both defensively and because her bra had been long discarded, which left the tank top she wore revealing far too much for her liking.

he almost looked earnest when he answered “came looking for you. you never showed up to the party at my place.”

“yeah, well i don’t like your parties” “sure you do!” he snorted

“no, aegon i don’t! i never have. i only ever come for you and i’m miserable the entire while, and you never notice!”

he looked hurt at her accusation, blinking as if it had never crossed his mind that she didn’t enjoy getting high and causing chaos as much as he did. that hurt quickly turned into anger of his own as he shot back.

“fine, even if you didn’t wanna come to the party, why did you leave prom so early? for weeks it’s all you wanted to do, going to prom. you dragged my ass there and then just ‘puff’ i turn my back for one second, and you’ve disappeared.” he sounded almost as if he felt abandoned, wounded.

“you seemed busy.” she cooly replied.

“busy?” aegon echoed, his brows furrowing. “i was just talking to people.”

y/n shook her head, her eyes reflecting a mix of hurt and frustration. “you always do this, aegon. you leave me for the first pretty girl that catches your eye.”

he shook his head as if y/n were being the unreasonable one here “it’s not like that.”

“then what is it like?” she demanded, her voice rising. “because it feels like you’re always looking for a distraction. and tonight, i needed you.” her eyes burned as tears pooled in them. “it was our last night in school. it meant something.”

he flinched at her words, the truth of how much he had bruised her, cutting through the haze of alcohol. “i didn’t mean to—"

“didn’t mean to what? make me feel invisible?” y/n's voice softened, the anger giving way to sadness. “it’s like you don’t care.”

aegon stood there, steadying himself by leaning against the desk, looking deflated. “i do care, y/n. you’re my best friend.” she could tell he was trying, trying to make her see he cared, trying to be a good friend. the fact that he had left his own party simply to come look in on her, hadn’t gone unnoticed by her.

but unluckily for him, y/n was tired of his constant trying when she knew it never led to any real change.

she took a deep breath, steadying herself. “we need to talk about something else, too. we’ve been avoiding it all year.”

aegon looked up at her, confusion and apprehension mingling in his eyes. “what do you mean?”

“college, aegon. you’re going to oldtown, and i’m headed to sunspear,” y/n said, her voice trembling slightly. “i’ve tried to bring it up, but you always change the subject.”

he looked away from her, fiddling with the rings on his fingers almost anxiously. “because i don’t want to think about it.”

“well too bad, because we have to discuss it” she insisted. “this is big. we’ve never so much as spent one summer break apart, you’ve dragged me to every family vacation and christmas dinner. but come fall, that’s over. you don’t think that’s important enough to even talk about? doesn’t it matter to you at all?”

“of course it matters!” he finally spat out, taking stumbling steps towards her. “i don’t want to talk about it because i know it’ll change everything.”

aegon’s eyes were glassy, his emotions threatening to spill over. “because you’ll be far away, making new friends, living a different life. you get to conveniently walk out on me and my fuck ups. i don’t want to talk about it because you’re leaving me.”

“leaving you?” the aegon that stood before her was shaking like a scared child, gone was the playful, laid back popular boy. for the first time that night, she could see clearly through him, the first time he’d allowed her to.

y/n moved closer, taking his hands in hers. “aegon, i could never leave you.” she promised. “you’re a part of me. distance doesn’t change that.”

“you say that now…” he mumbled, looking away as she caught tears running down his cheek.

“i’m not leaving you,” she repeated, more firmly this time, her heart aching for him. “we’ll find a way to make it work. i promise.”

“do you really mean that?” her hand reached out to his cheek, wiping away his tears with the pad of her thumb. “with all my heart,” she whispered. the vulnerability in his eyes was raw and unfiltered as he confessed “i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t,” she assured him, putting her arms around him as she pulled him into a tight embrace. “we’ll figure it out, together.” she sounded sure, determined.

he clung to her, and she could smell the weed and cigarettes on his shirt, she knew that he wasn’t as clear-headed as he should have been for the conversation they were having. “i don’t know what i’d do without you, y/n.” he muttered into her hair. she smiled against his chest. “lucky for you, you don’t ever have to find out.”

as one of his hands trailed down to her lower back, she suddenly felt her shorts were far too short for her to be having company. his other hand started to rub at her side, his thumb brushing up against the side of her breast and lingering just enough that she knew he could tell she was bare beneath her flimsy cotton top.

they’d been standing in silence for a minute when he suddenly spoke up, “i’m sorry that i mess everything up, you deserved to have me there with you tonight.”

his hand had stopped right by her cleavage, causing her throat to dry up. “it was just a stupid dance.”

“yeah, but it mattered to you.” he brought his other hand to her ass, as he pulled apart slightly to look down at her. her breathing became rapid as she looked back up at him.

in that moment, the tension between them shifted. aegon leaned in, his lips brushing against hers hesitantly. y/n responded, closing the distance again, with more passion.

there was a sense of urgency, a rush as his tongue entered her mouth. the hand on her ass moved to slip past her shorts and panties to grab at her bare skin, causing her to moan into his mouth. her own hands attempted to undo the few remaining buttons on his dress shirt, before letting her fingers roam around his exposed chest.

he pushed them back, till she felt the edge of her bed behind her making her fall back on it, pulling him down with her as she went.

his mouth moved to trail sloppy, wet kisses on her neck, and then down to her collarbone. she could feel him use his teeth, marking her for the next day.

situated as he was between her legs, she could feel his semi-hard on from under his pants, rubbing against her in the most delicious way making her wrap her legs tighter around him, to feel that friction more intensely.

his mouth broke away from her now-sensitive skin momentarily, as he lifted her top enough to expose her breasts to him. his hands roughly gripped the flesh, making y/n gasp with how cool his rings felt pressed to her skin.

his mouth then took in one of her nipples, as she whimpered at the sensation, her fingers pulling his hair as he flicked it with his tongue, before sucking on it.

when he finally lifted his head to look up at y/n, she couldn’t believe the scene before her. in that moment aegon was looking her with a hunger and wanting, that she didn’t think he’d even given cassandra baratheon.

what might come next though, made y/n nervous. she’d never gone this far with a boy before, reasoning with herself that she’d never liked anyone enough. but she could admit to herself now that she’d been waiting to share that experience with aegon, waiting for him to come around.

still, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to go all the way, or how to do it if she was.

thankfully for her, aegon reached ahead and merely kissed her lips once more, softer this time. then, even more unexpectantly, he placed a final, tender kiss atop her head, before climbing off from between her thighs and crashing down on the pillow beside her.

she blinked at the figure of him, lying next to her completely relaxed, as if what they’d just done was so routine, it didn’t warrant another thought. “get that lamp light next to you, would you?” he yawned.

as if in a daze, y/n wordlessly switched the light off, plunging the room into darkness.

she could hear him breathing beside her, close enough to block her nose with the smell of cigarettes she was sure she’d have to wash out of the sheets the next day. but with his pale hair falling like that against his fluttering eyes, she knew he was the only person she wanted, flaws and all.

drowsiness began to take over her after sometime, and she wasn’t sure if she actually heard him mumbling “love you” or if she’d dreamt it but she drifted off with a faint smile on her face nonetheless.

the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over y/n’s room. she stirred awake, stretching out lazily when her eyes fell on to the snoring boy beside her. she couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful his face looked, her hand stretching out to tuck behind the strands of platinum falling to his eyes.

she tried to be as quiet as she could in walking to her bathroom. standing in front of her mirror, she noticed the now purpling hickey right by her collarbone. she still couldn’t quite believe that the events of last night had actually occurred, but the evidence was staring her right in the face. her fingertips grazed the bruise, and the corners of her lips turned upwards automatically.

she washed her face and brushed her teeth in a haze, where all she could think about was what was going to happen next. would she and aegon have a conversation about it, or would he pretend it was nothing? oh god, what if he regretted it? the thought made her tense. instead of going back to her room she sat on the edge of her bathtub, nervously thinking about what impact last night would have on their friendship. she couldn’t imagine losing aegon, she thought. if it came down to taking whatever happened yesterday forward or saving their friendship, she would pick the latter, she determined. before she could lose her nerve, she decided to go back to her room with that thought.

upon her return she realised the object of all her anxiety was already up, rubbing his eyes with his palms and groaning, clearly nursing a hangover. her heart suddenly started to pound in her chest. “you’re up early. it’s not even noon yet.” she teased as she came to sit by him. “and morning to you too” he grumbled.

“how are you feeling?” she hesitantly asked, “like i got hit by a bus,” he said, attempting a weak grin.

she gave him a faint chuckle. she looked around the room as silence filled the space. she was hoping that he’d be the one to bring up last night, rather than making her go through the embarrassment and awkwardness of coming to that topic.

how did you even start that conversation? she wondered as she pulled at a few strands of embroidery coming untethered from the rest of her bedsheet. ‘hey last night was the best kiss i’ve ever had, let’s do it again sometime soon’? no, that wasn’t it. she stole a glance at aegon who had picked up his phone, neither of them having said anything to break the silence. i could start by telling him how i’ve always liked him? no that would definitely activate his commitment-phobia, and he’d go running out the door, she realised. sitting this long without either of them talking felt far too weird and she started to panic slightly.

she kept thinking if he was going to approach the topic, wondering if she should instead, when suddenly aegon got off her bed.

“what have we got here” he walked over to the basket where some of her old toys had been kept for her mother to donate when she went to college. “nothing just some old things” she replied, surprised that this was what he wanted to discuss now. he seemed to be entertaining himself by going through her things as if he hadn’t been in her room a hundred times before.

well, if he was going to avoid it, y/n decided she should be the one to rip off the band-aid. she cleared her throat to start speaking, when he suddenly cut her off, “do you still have that lightsabre i gave you for your 12th birthday? the one that used to light up and all?” “no, because you broke it playing with it in my garden that same day you gifted it.” she reminded him, “right…” he muttered, before going back to his rummaging.

this time she stood up and walked over to him, and started to say, “y’know i think we should talk—” “what’s ollie doing here?” grinning, he grabbed an old red octopus from the basket and lifted one of its stuffed tentacles to wave at her. “did this mean old lady steal you from me ollie?” “no, you stole him from me, remember? and alicent had to return it back” she reminded him, snatching the toy back from him in irritation. if he was going to keep mucking about, she was never going to be able finish what she wanted to say.

she exhaled a big sigh, and built up her courage again, “we have to talk about last night—” “yeah, what did happen last night?”

she could only blink, as aegon nonchalantly asked, not even bothering to look up from the box of broken, dusty toys. “what do you mean ‘what happened’?”

“as in how did i end up in your bed?” he laughed, “don’t remember much after us arriving at prom” her heart sank at his words. “you blacked out.” she said in realisation. she turned around and walked back to sit on her bed so he wouldn’t see her wounded expression.

he didn’t even remember what was possibly one of the biggest moments of her life, something so monumental that she’d woken up this morning as if waking up to a new life. all those years she'd spent unknowingly pining for him, she’d thought that now there was finally some hope that she could actually be with him. but one little sentence from him had made her memory of last night dissipate like a mirage.

what had she even been thinking, he was drunk out of his mind and was probably barely in knowledge of himself when they did what they did last night. it was a mistake, and it should have never happened. she couldn’t control the tears slipping down her cheeks, her back facing aegon to shield herself subconsciously.

“you were pretty drunk. you climbed up to my room and we talked for a while. you fell asleep here.” she answered in robotic narration, not daring a look at him. she wiped her face quickly as she heard him stop with his aimless search and come sit next to her.

“sounds accurate. i do anything stupid i should know about?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern. it was the standard question he asked when he blacked out. for a second, she wondered if she should tell him everything.

y/n shook her head, smiling faintly. “no, you didn't. just needed a place to crash.”

she thought about it rationally – even if they did talk about last night, what was going to be the best-case scenario? he would be glad of what he did? but even then, what would happen next? she was going to dorne, and him to the reach, and a long distance anything was going to be impossible enough. here they were nervous about their friendship surviving the distance, but a relationship? she couldn’t see any way this would end well.

and this was considering if aegon even wanted any of it. last night may have been special for her, but if drunken fooling around and crashing into bed was all it took to get him to pursue someone romantically, half the school was ahead of her in that line.

this was the best thing for both of them, she sadly thought, to preserve their friendship.

him putting his arm across her shoulders and squeezing her brought her out of her miserable thoughts, “thanks for looking out for me, as always.”

“of course,” she replied softly. “that's what friends are for.”

aegon met her gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “yeah, best friends.”

a few minutes later she left momentarily to get herself a glass of water but by the time she returned, her room was empty with her window left open and her red octopus missing once again from her bed.

[sleepypanda01]

@squeer-el pointing out the titles of Deacon,Chase and Buddy in the hiatus episodes along with the response of Punko to a fan where she said that Deacon is the protector of love because he wants love got me thinking. Squeer-el made an excellent post about the titles of the boys, raising some interesting questions about Nox and his backstory. I have no answers for those, but I would like to share my interpretation of their titles and their importance to the main story.

What if the qualities they protect are not meant to represent the qualities they have, but the qualities they want or need to acquire throughout the story? Think about it. 

Let's talk about Chase first,the protector of hope. Chase looks like the embodiment of positivity, always maintaining an easygoing attitude and acts as if he believes that everything will work out somehow in the end. However,the truth is that he suppresses many of his negative emotions. His father has passed away, his mom is severely ill and his future looks uncertain. His hopeful attitude looks more like a coping mechanism and a mask he wears to prevent others from being worried about him and to keep his mental health as stable as possible for someone in his circumstances. Chase dreams of becoming a famous star and always talks like it is only a matter of time,but the truth is that he is more grounded than people give him credit for. In Cinderfella arc when he is watering the grave of Cinderella's mom he talks about dreams and how things work out in stories,in contrast to real life where everything is a struggle with uncertain results. This showcases that Chase is more aware of his surroundings, but shoves the negative thoughts away as far as possible so he won't dwell on his misery. This is more evident in still waters where everything seemed hopeless,Chase struggled until the last minute but you could tell that he was pretending to believe that a positive outcome was possible,but he had no other option other than to try his best. He needed hope,and then the story gave him an opening to survive. Chase has to continue to have optimistic expectations in hopes that a miracle of a good future will actually be possible, despite the challenges and the uncertainty of the situations.

Next there's Deacon. Deacon seems to fantasise about romance and beautiful, fair maidens a lot. He wants to experience romance,but that's something that is still out of his reach. However, love comes in many shapes and forms other than romance, there's familial love, platonic love,and self -love. Apart from struggling with romance, Deacon has been seen to be struggling with self-confidence. He seems to feel bad that he is not as popular and easy -going as his cousin. He has a hard time expressing his wants to his parents and it is difficult for him in general to be assertive. During the story,he has expressed his desire to be the hero so he can be loved by everyone,but then Prunella lectures him that being the hero has nothing to do with other people, but it is about how you see yourself. It is more of a self-confidence issue. That's when Deacon starts to be more assertive and becomes the hero even if he ended up turning into a paper,he still learnt something important about himself and grew a little as a person. What he needs is to believe in himself.

Finally, there's Buddy,the protector of loyalty. Loyalty is a quality that influences relationships. It is a quality that involves a strong sense of trust, commitment and sincerity. Buddy's mistrust toward humans implies the mistreating he has been receiving from them and a possible betrayal. Despite his cold and careful attitude,Nox seems to crave for a deep connection and as cautious he is of kindness,he is just as touched by it. The more he receives kindness and warmth,the more he gets used to it and develops a desire for close proximity. Nox has warmed up a lot to Chase to the point that the thorns in his heart are often replaced by rose petals, symbolising that he has developed a soft spot for Chase and that chase has entered his heart by melting down his walls. Nox was more upset at Chase because he perceived Chase's decision to keep Goldie a secret,as seeing him as untrustworthy and capable of doing something bad. It was less about keeping the presence of a key a secret,and more about how Chase views him. In the requiem of blood arc, Dracifer's monologue about trust Seems to be reflecting Nox's emotions. Nox wants someone to believe in him,to trust him,to prove their loyalty to him so that he can return that commitment back to them. He wants to have a deep relationship with someone, but he is too scared to make the first step, so he wants a loyal person who will be sincere with him so he won't have to ever be afraid of being hurt again.He wants loyalty so he can be sure that he can rely on others.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts 💕

[shipsdoishipidk]

Dick, hissing: I am sick and tired of him. He always shows up out of nowhere and what does he do? Nothing! He’s always just follows me around going ‘Robin, your punch on the right is weak, you aim for the heart.’ ‘Nightwing, your snark is like a rabbit with fangs.’ ‘Little bird, did you just get out of bed because I could take you right now.’ And ‘you’re dripping sweat- Wally: ‘-am I working you too hard?’ Dick: Yes! You understand! Roy: Uh no. No we don’t. It’s all in the “how to flirt with your oblivious fellow hero counterpart” book. Dick: W-what? There’s-what? Raven: yes, it’s quite…collective. Dick: WHO WOULD EVEN WRITE SOMETHING LIKE THAT?! Gar: Dude it’s written by a bunch of thugs and villains. It’s like famous. Even the Joker added stuff to it. Dick: oh my god why would Slade even read that?! Wally: Dick. My buddy. My bro. My ship in friendship. C’mon. Dick: what-it’s not like he’s trying to flirt. Garth: *turning to the group* and this is why there’s "oblivious" in the title. Dick: *flustered* hey! Fine, even if he is, why would he read a "how to romance" book? Roy: Now we’re asking the right questions. Dick, he doesn’t read it. He’s the source of inspiration. Dick: Wha- Roy: A bunch of thugs got tired of seeing him flirting with you and started complaining about it at the villains' bar. One of them got the really dumb or maybe really smart idea to write a self-help book about all the pick up lines Slade’s used on you over the years. Dick: No. Roy: Yup. Dick: No. no. There’s no way. I would’ve noticed. If someone was flirting with me all these years, I would’ve noticed! Wally: Really? Thanks for noticing then. Roy: And not saying anything. Dick: What? Garth: *shoving Roy and Wally* Nothing! Get your butt tootalooting out of here. You have business to catch up on. Dick: *getting shoved out the door and having it slammed shut behind him* I- Raven: That worked out great. Gar: Yeah! Wait no! I thought we didn’t want them together? Garth: Yeah that was the plan. I guess it just slipped out. We have a bigger problem now. Wally: what? Garth: Who’s gonna tell Batman that Dick knows about Slade’s interests now? Roy: Wally: Gar: Raven: Roy, Wally, Garth, and Gar: ICALLNOTIT Roy, Wally, Garth, and Gar:... Wally: Raven? Raven: *Glaring* Wally: Yup, yeah, okay, that’s fine too. Roy: *packing his bow* whatever, I’ve got a suitor to hunt down. Wally: Me too. Gar: I’m gonna hang out with Raven, bye! Gar and Raven: *disappearing* Garth: hey, anyone? Garth: *dragging out the communicator* Why is it always me? Garth: …actually you know what? Fuck Batman. Enjoy your new fresh hell, you possessive fuck. We’re all gonna be in it.

[girlfromthecrypt]

Note: This is merely a pitch introduction post. My main project remains Such Happy Campers. I have no title in mind for this IF (suggestions are welcome), although I am very passionate about the idea and will work on it on the side while I write SHC.

You are... or were one of the most famous yet mysterious characters in the 21st century pop-rock scene. 

It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. Your friends agreed… and that is how your band came to be. After years of practice in your friend’s mother’s garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.

It's a meteoric rise— until it isn’t. 

And now, a decade after your band has withdrawn from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be. 

Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)

Play as a pop-rock vocalist

Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image

Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears 

Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/stalker

Give one hell of an interview

Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac

TW: themes of mental illness, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation and self-harm, unhealthy relationship dynamics

ROs:

Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”

She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…

Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”

Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget. 

Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”

Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past. 

Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them. When they first walked out onto that stage, it felt like my heart was going to explode.”

Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.

Others:

Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they tried to make me disappear with their fog machine.”

After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.

Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”

Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean.

Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”

The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.

[dividers by @thecutestgrotto]

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