#i was possessed by the ethereal music i was listening to

[fairy-verse]

I would love to dance with the firstborn fairy of winter, error himself.

I actually love the snow, gives off a nostalgic feeling, and the cold is my favourite, even if im born in spring. So, dancing in the snow? May i have the pleausure? If I may have their permission, of course. 🫴

How sweet of you to ask, dearest Anon. Perhaps you may be lucky to have the chance and dance with the queen of winter himself. Perhaps Error may hold about your waist to keep you close as his other hand tenderly grasps your own, pulling you in for a slow and graceful dance in the light downfall of powdery snow, the stars barely visible through brief windows in the clouds up above. Perhaps he flies higher and higher, making the world down below seem so small and insignificant, all its troubles and sorrows unimportant.

Perhaps your joy turns to ice in your veins as Error smiles down at you with satisfaction and the likes of the frozen waste, caring not as he lets you go only to watch in silence as you fall. Perhaps… seeing the way the light of the stars glimmers in the colours of his wings was as beautiful a sight as life itself. Perhaps your fall will not end in death, but instead, a jostle as you fall from your bed, the chill of the late winter’s night prickling your skin and reminding you of where you are, now awake, and with the memories of a beautiful dream slowly fading away into nothingness with only its feeling remaining in your heart.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Fixer Upper

ALASTOR x (F)READER

Summary: Someone dared to break Alastor's precious radio and his wrath is inconsolable. But turns out you may have some small tricks up your sleeve.

Warnings: NONE

For the dearest @anon-of-the-void. My darling, it is a pleasure as always to write these for you.

In the bustling chaos of the Hazbin Hotel, where demons sought redemption amidst the fiery chaos of Hell, an unlikely friendship blossomed. Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, found solace in the presence of Y/N, an inventive soul from the Victorian Era who had found herself amidst the peculiar denizens of the underworld.

Y/N was a tinkerer, always tinkering away in her workshop, concocting gadgets and gizmos that would make even the most adept engineers marvel. Alastor, with his vintage charm and macabre wit, found her creations fascinating, and the two formed an unusual bond over their shared love for innovation.

One fateful day, disaster struck when Alastor's beloved old-time radio, his prized possession from his living days, broke down. The demon was devastated, his usual jovial demeanor clouded by a rare display of anger. The residents of the hotel trembled in fear, knowing the havoc that could be unleashed if the Radio Demon's rage remained unchecked.

Alastor's crimson eyes blazed with fury as he prowled the halls of the Hazbin Hotel, his usual jovial smile replaced by a menacing snarl. The residents cowered in fear, whispering among themselves as they caught glimpses of the Radio Demon's wrathful form.

"You there!" Alastor's voice boomed, sending shivers down the spines of those unfortunate enough to cross his path. "Do you have any idea of the inconvenience of my beloved radio breaking? The nerve, the audacity!"

Niffty, the hyperactive cleaner demon, spoke with a frantic passion as she viewed the mangled radio."Alastor! I'll do it! Let me clean it please!"

Alastor's laughter rang out like a chilling melody, sending a chill through the air. "Oh, my dear Nifty, no thank you. This requires some…interrogation but feel free to clean up the aftermath."

Angel Dust, lounging lazily on a nearby couch, scoffed, "Oh, lighten up, Al, it's just a stupid radio. Besides, it's not like anyone listens to your old-timey tunes anyway."

The room fell silent as Alastor's gaze bore into Angel Dust, his smile twisting into a sinister grin. "Is that so, my dear Angel? Perhaps I should demonstrate the consequences of underestimating the power of music."

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor summoned a spectral microphone, its ethereal glow casting eerie shadows across the room. "Now, let's see who's laughing when I unleash the full force of my wrath upon this wretched offender!"

The residents of the Hazbin Hotel trembled as Alastor's menacing laughter echoed through the halls, knowing all too well that when the Radio Demon was in a foul mood, no one was safe from his terrifying fury.

As fear spread throughout the hotel, Y/N knew she had to act swiftly to quell the storm brewing within Alastor's heart. Ignoring the warnings of her peers, she clandestinely snatched the broken radio and retreated to her workshop, determined to restore it to its former glory.Under the cover of night, she stealthily crept into Alastor's room, her pockets filled with tools and determination. With deft hands, she dismantled the broken radio, each cog and wire familiar to her skilled touch.

Hour after hour, Y/N toiled away, her nimble fingers dancing across the delicate machinery. With each adjustment and tweak, the radio gradually came back to life, its familiar crackle filling the air once more. But as the night wore on,  fatigue gnawed at Y/N's bones, her eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion. But she pressed on, fueled by determination and a desire to see her friend smile once more.

Finally, with a soft click, the radio sprang to life, emitting a crackling sound before filling the room with the familiar strains of vintage jazz. Y/N let out a sigh of relief, a triumphant smile gracing her lips as she admired her handiwork.

But as she stood there basking in her success, fatigue finally caught up with her. With a yawn, she sank into a nearby chair, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep claimed her.

Unbeknownst to her, Alastor had been silently watching from the shadows, his expression unreadable as he observed Y/N's tireless efforts to fix his broken radio. When he saw her succumb to exhaustion, a pang of concern tugged at his heart, softening the edges of his usually stoic demeanor.

Quietly, he approached her slumbering form, his footsteps barely audible against the creaking floorboards. Gently, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch light as a feather.

"My dear Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. "Such devotion, such selflessness. You truly are a marvel."

A warmth blossomed in Alastor's chest as he watched her sleep, a feeling he couldn't quite put into words. For the first time in centuries, he felt something akin to tenderness stirring within him—a feeling he realized with a start was nothing short of admiration.

With a soft sigh, Alastor leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead before picking up her form and striding over to his bed; tucking her in with the utmost care. As he stood there in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the quiet hum of the fixed radio and the soft breathing of his friend, he knew at that moment that he was irrevocably touched by her kindness.

And as the first light of dawn painted the sky, Alastor silently vowed to cherish and protect Y/N, for she had not only fixed his broken radio but had also managed to mend something far more precious—his wounded heart.

The next morning dawned upon the Hazbin Hotel, the air tinged with a sense of relief as the residents basked in the knowledge that Alastor's beloved radio had been fixed. Alastor strode into the lobby with a confident swagger, his usual grin plastered on his face. With a flick of his wrist, he turned on the radio, the familiar crackle of static filling the air before giving way to the melodic strains of love songs from a bygone era.

The residents exchanged puzzled glances, their confusion evident as they listened to the unexpected playlist. Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, looks like someone's feeling a bit sentimental today."

Alastor's grin widened, though there was a hint of something softer lurking beneath the surface. "Ah, my dear Angel, music has a way of stirring the soul, don't you think?"

As the love songs continued to play, the other residents couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth wash over them. Even the gruffest demons found themselves tapping their claws to the beat, caught up in the unexpected romance of it all.

But as Alastor's gaze lingered on Y/N, who stood among the crowd with a shy smile, a wave of realization washed over him. It wasn't just any love songs he was playing—it was a silent declaration of his growing affection for the inventive soul who had captured his heart.

And as the music filled the room with its sweet melody, Alastor couldn't help but feel a surge of hope coursing through him. Perhaps, in the midst of Hell's chaos, there was still room for love to blossom—a love that transcended time and defied all odds.

With a soft chuckle, Alastor stole a glance at Y/N, his heart swelling with newfound courage. For in that moment, amidst the gentle strains of love songs and the soft glow of morning light, he knew that he was falling—falling head over heels for the one who had fixed not only his broken radio but also the shattered pieces of his soul.

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

See How It Shines

Summary: Spencer gets home from work to find Reader in tears over the new Hozier album.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff and comfort

Content warnings: The masterpiece of Hozier’s Unreal Unearth, me stopping halfway to listen to the entire album, me crying to every song I reference

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: shoutout to anyone who picks up on every song reference I make. I am instantly in love with you.

Spencer had been etched with the weight of unsolved cases and the relentless march of time, and he was forced to call it a night around six. The team had already pulled an all-nighter earlier in the week, so Hotch decided they all deserved rest. Spencer, however, wasn’t tired (he was; it was the late cups of coffee). Nevertheless, he makes it to his apartment door, skipping every other step. As Spencer turned the key in the lock, a soft melody flowed from the other side, haunting him yet drawing him in.

When the door opens with a slight creak, the music only grows. The living room was a sanctuary, bathed in the golden hues of twilight and table lamps, together casting long, ethereal shadows across the aged wooden floor. Plants adorned the walls and shelves. Since you moved in, he has never shared a space with so many simple living things.  His record player, a testament to decades of shared music between him and his mother, spun its vinyl tale. This time it was for you, as it breathed life into the album as you sat on the couch in a nest of blankets.

Ah yes, it was Hozier day. The anticipated album release of Unreal Unearth. His girlfriend highly anticipated it. She had been vibrating as the week drew to a close with five days left, then three, then one. And it was well worth the wait, considering the tears continuing to streak her face as the Irish man begged for someone to not fall away from him.

Spencer set his bag down by the door and proceeded toward the couch with caution as if he were ready to pounce like a predator on prey. Except the end resulted in a tender hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him with a puffy face and snotty nose. It was Spencer’s next instinct to grab a tissue from the end table and offer it to you. Of course, you took it. And even though the answer was obvious, he still felt the need to ask, “Are you okay?”

It was a struggle for you to inhale, so you blew your nose again. "I didn’t expect this to be a breakup album.” The album sleeve was wrapped in your arms, proving to already be a prized possession. The tracklist was organized by the layers of Dante’s hell they fell under.

Spencer gave you a small smirk before placing a kiss on your head. “Well, I’ll go ahead and get started on dinner.” It was his turn to take the culinary reins for tonight. “Do you need anything?”

“I need to know who this woman is, Spencer.” You throw your head back as Hozier hits a high note that neither of you has heard from him before. You stay there as you ask, “Who made this man feel so much pain?”

“You want to fight Hozier’s ex-girlfriend?”

“Ew, no.” Your nose scrunched. “I just want to know how. The power to make a man feel this way.”

Spencer chuckled. He had answers. And he’s happy to not reply with any of them. “I’m making chicken parmesan. That okay?”

You nodded, soon returning to singing about holding a heart like a steering wheel. But you then grabbed his hand. Your eyes are red, and Spencer is sure you’ll need drops before the end of the night. “Did a part of you die the first time I called you ‘baby,’ Spencer?”

Spencer couldn’t help but smirk as he quirked a brow. “Do what?”

“They’re song lyrics.” You let go of him.

Spencer has never fully understood the uproar that comes with Hozier. Then again, no one really flocks to Beethoven and Chopin like they used to. Plus, Vivaldi wasn’t known for belting out in the middle of his pieces and Spencer can at least admit Hozier’s belts ( well, the ones he’s heard so far) tug at him by the chest. He came back to his senses quickly when his mismatched socks landed on the cold tile. He washed his hands and opened the fridge door with his good knee.

Songs of water and knives reminded him he had chicken to wash and cut. And the familiar feeling in his own kitchen gets the tasks in Spencer’s head in order. He could feel the weight of his week slowly lift, replaced by Spencer attempting to chop to the song. It was inefficient. Some songs play shockingly fast for a breakup album. He settled for a more percussion style of noise, making each slice more deliberate as a testament to his meticulousness.

The flour and breadcrumbs sizzled in the oil that mingled with the sight of you matching the pitch of the song and humming where Hozier shouted, caressing the album sleeve like it was alive and needed your warmth. The weight of the lyrics settling in your bones caused your head to fall in shock as a long, high note carried through the whole apartment.

The album played on, weaving tales of love and loss, each one successfully targeting your core and striking effectively. And when Spencer got into the groove of his own routine in the kitchen, he listened to the lyrics as they almost guided him to autopilot, reminding him of the joys that come with his leg around you in bed, ensuring you don’t move anywhere except closer to him. And how the idea of losing that is something he does not care to dwell on for long.

He could keep it together, he thought.

Until his voice soars about the glistening of an animal’s eyes. About the force of love for someone recklessly in the middle of the street. Spencer couldn’t help but feel a lump forming in his throat. It was a visceral reaction—Spencer's sniffle. But it wasn’t unheard.

You turned your gaze toward Spencer, your eyes soft with understanding. You could hear the emotion in his breath and the slight catch in his throat. “Spencer?” You asked.

“I’m fine.”

Your lower lip quivers with a puffy smile. “You’re crying.”

“No, I’m chopping. Chopping while completely fine.” His sniffles continued to give him away (sanitary stations over pride every time).

You couldn’t help but find the situation adorable. You lazily got up from the couch, letting one of the blankets slide off with you, dragging along behind you across the wood floor and then the tile. You carefully put your hands around his waist because safety comes first. You squeeze him, and he laughs a little. For a moment, he puts his left hand on your arm, keeping it there. You noticed how his fingertips were colder than expected as you looked at the cutting board from under his arm. “So basil makes you cry? Is that it?”

Spencer laughs again, diverting his gaze from the record player and clearing his eyes from unshed tears. “Today, it apparently does. There must be some emotional properties I didn’t consider.”

“Nothing to do with an Irish man singing his heart out?”

Spencer rubs his nose on his sleeve. Fuck sanitation right now; he’s about to go through it. The snot is evident. See how it shines, indeed. “Is he really singing about roadkill?”

“Yep.” You sniffle in return as you lay your head on his back.

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

“How does he do it?”

“That I don’t know.” You held Spencer as he let the music hit him. Taking moments to turn from the food to wipe his tears.

[sleep-paralysis-buddy]

!perv!desperate!possessive!Eddie

    who ruts himself into the mattress while he eats you out, his tongue delving deep inside you, lapping up every bit of you that he can.

'Fuck sweetheart,' he growls against you, 'taste s'good for me. Gonna cum just from listening to those pretty moans.' He coos this last bit as he slides two thick fingers inside of you, his big metal rings cold against your skin.

   You buck against him, whining when he curls his fingers into that spongy spot inside of you.

    'Yea baby? Gonna cum for me? That's so good love,' he mumbles against the skin of your tummy. He begins rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit with his other hand, sucking pretty purple bruises over your thighs and stomach, chuckling against you when you let out a sob of his name in desperation.

    He let's out a groan as he digs his hips into the mattress. He felt drunk, absolutely wasted on the smell and taste of your pussy. He could stay here and worship you all day if you let him, the warm summer sun casting rays over your chest that turned your skin gold. Your arms above your head, your hair splayed out like a fan. You looked absolutely ethereal.

    And you were his

    All his.

  He pulls his fingers out and pulls you forward by your thighs, lining himself up with you, barely pushing the tip past your entrance as he uses one arm to hold your thighs together against his chest.

    'This pussy is mine, right babydoll?' He's teasing you, angling his hips away as you try to push against him.

    'Fuck, Eddie,' you cry, arching your back in frustration, 'yes it's yours, now please.' You're begging now, tears welling in your eyes, your orgasam sitting just on the brink.

    'That's right,' he breaths, kissing your calve, 'it's fucking mine. And I'm going to do with it as I please.'

     He thrusts in slowly, taking his sweet time, watching your head spin and the tears spring to your eyes from the deliciously painful stretch.

     'Do'n s'good for me baby,' he praises, brushing a stand of hair out of your face, smiling softly, lovingly, down at you, 'take'n this cock so so good. You're such a good girl for me.' He begins thrusting at a steady pace, but quickly loses control, pressing your legs to your chest and raising himself to get a better angle. Your shreiks and moans of pleasure are music to his ears. Better than any song he's ever heard or written. When his name falls from your babbling, fucked out mouth, he feels a bit of him die and go to Heaven.

     'Pussy's so fuck'n tight for me baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep squeeze'n me like that.' You both moan as you do exactly that at his words, both your releases quickly building back up.

    'Tell me who you belong to and you can cum,' he growls, wrapping his hand around your throat and tightening his fingers just enough so you can still answer him.

     'You, Eddie, fuck,' you stammer, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. But you know he wants more than that. Eddie's always loved hearing you tell him that you're his and only his.

     'I'm yours Ed's. I love you,' you whine, and he groans at your words, feeling his cock twitch, close to his peak.

     'Cum for me then. Show me just how mine you are sweetheart,' and you come undone at his words, seeing nothing but white as you ride out your high, shrieking when he brings his fingers to your clit. He cums soon after, spilling inside of you, desperate whimpers and praises fall from his mouth, your name on his lips like a prayer.

      He collapses next to you, pulling you close to him, your head buried in his chest, and rubbing your back in circles as you shake and pant from your orgasam.

      'Did amazing doll' he says, his voice so achingly loving it drips off his tongue like honey, 'always such a good girl. Such a beautiful girl. 'm s'lucky baby.' His speech is slurred and sleepy, and he breathing has become even and shallow. You cuddle in and pull the blanket over the two of you, ready to sleep, when he suddenly jumps up.

      'Nope, sorry babe, not quite time to sleep yet.' He tugs your hands, pulling you off the bed, your legs wobbling. He picks you up bridal style and begins walking towards the bathroom.

      'Gotta clean you up, baby. Gonna run you a warm bath, and then we can have a snack and a drink before we take a nap. How's that sound?'

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟖   ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜   |   THE DEN, MID MARCH 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  Leonor had attended a recital just the day before, but this performance was an entirely different experience. She was unprepared for how arresting it would be. Without knowing, she had noticed the lead singer earlier that night, ostensibly holding court by the far edge of the bar, distracting the bartender with animated conversation. Leonor hadn’t heard anything she said, but her movements were full of energy, almost frenetic. Now, she held still. The bassist swayed from hip to hip. Behind them, the drummer stared out at the audience with a face full of shadows. Leonor thought the frontwoman resembled a pious statue as she stood there, chin tilted upward and eyes closed. The crowd hummed with impatient anticipation, but what she reflected back to them was unfazed tranquility. 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

❧ (the song here, as you perhaps could have guessed from the episode title, is meant to be "doll parts" by hole.) lightly phoned this one in BUT i'd rather keep moving than skip a week bc i was sick, so :^) this is an abridged version, and i'll post an unabridged version later today w/ a label for good measure !!! additionally, we are now done with the entirely self-indulgent red light filter, i promise sdfsdf

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

The very first chord sent a chill up Leonor’s spine. She watched, rapt, as the statue came to life in a fluid series of motions. Her voice was low and rough, not ethereal by any means but still somehow, to Leonor’s ears, exquisite. The lyrics washed over her unheard. She fixated wholly on the singing itself—on the emotion of it, how the crooning turned to a harsh quaver, within it a lament that felt more defiant than mournful. It was raw. The song’s inspiration, why this woman performed it as she did, was a mystery. It was the vulnerability of it that resonated. Leonor felt the emotion in her bones as she listened. Music was never her preferred outlet but, as she experienced the song, she wished it had been.

For these three minutes, Leonor was alone again. The stage’s pit had been packed with an eager, noisy audience that responded enthusiastically to every line of the song. As it became a concert for one, they faded. Leonor’s eyes followed the movement of the singer, how her lips parted and her fingers strummed the guitar she played. They existed together in a suspended moment outside of time. It might have occurred to her later that extending, even possessing, such a moment was well within her power. For enough money, she could have anyone’s private time—especially artists, people who needed and understood patronage. It wasn't it in the spirit of the venue, but neither was her very presence, arguably. However, she was entirely in the moment as it unfolded. Feelings welled up inside of her. Her skin prickled. Her eyes, too, felt the familiar sensation attendant to being overwhelmed. 

Still, even euphoria had a blush of grief these days.

The song ended, and the bar's spirited ambience rushed back in like a sun-blocking wave. As she began speaking casually to the audience, the singer’s captivating voice changed. Whatever spell she had cast broke. Her friends remained enlivened, but Leonor felt only the desperate need to reclaim the quietude again. The minute of transition between unfamiliar songs felt like too long—too risky—of a wait. Perhaps the night had caught up with her. Or, perhaps, if she ducked into a quiet corner and collected herself, she could resume the admirable attempt at normalcy that had characterized the evening so far. That was her preferred outcome. She knew, on one level, that she was having fun. This momentary lapse wasn’t really an aberration, she feared, but she was determined to treat it as such. 

Leonor turned to Kore instinctively, leaning close to exclaim the most convenient and innocuous escape valve within reach, “Where’s the restroom?”

TRANSCRIPT:

RENZO | Okay, settle down. Next up is a treat. The Fluke girls have a new song for us. This is a songwriter’s song, alright? Conceived in this building. Show some respect.

LEONOR | Where’s the restroom? KORE | Stairs, near the bar!

[Leonor sighs, door opening]

LEONOR | What are you doing here?

LEONOR | Oh—[Laughs]—sorry. RENZO | It’s a bathroom. Maybe I gotta piss.

RENZO | Hey, don’t leave. I’m kidding. Wanted to check on you. LEONOR | Really?

RENZO | Sort of. I also had an ulterior motive. LEONOR | Did you?

RENZO | I wanted to be alone with you again, too. LEONOR | You’re in luck.

RENZO | You know, you do look different in person. More real. LEONOR | I get that a lot. RENZO | Do you? Huh— LEONOR | [Snickers] No, of course not!

RENZO | So, what do you think— LEONOR | No more talking now, okay?

RENZO | I’ll show you the dressing rooms next time. LEONOR | Next time? [Chuckles]

[mayhem-things]

protective, jealous Euronymous x reader (Rory Culkin)

(828 words)

Øystein and Y/N record his guitar solo in a studio as another , unknown, perfomer joins them in the room. Jealousy gets the better of Euronymous and consumes him completely as a fight between the two men enflames.

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

Euronymous, the renowned musician and mastermind behind Mayhem, sat in the dimly lit rehearsal room, strumming his guitar as his girlfriend listened intently. The air crackled with creative energy, their shared passion for music binding them together. Their love had flourished amidst the chaotic and dark world of black metal, where Euronymous reigned as a true icon in her mind.

But on this fateful night, a rival musician entered the scene. Tall, brooding, and mysterious, he was known for his mesmerizing guitar skills and a captivating stage presence. In comparison to him, Euronymous looked like a total poser as he was smaller and not as buff built like the stranger. His eyes lingered on Y/N, her ethereal beauty drawing his attention like a moth to flame. The infamous rival wasn't the first guy who found himself oddly attracted to her yet he was the most outstanding.

Euronymous, ever the possessive lover, felt a pang of jealousy ignite within him. He watched as The tall massive metalhead approached Y/N, his charming smile concealing a hidden agenda. He introduced himself to her while his words dripped with insincere charm, Euronymous tightened his grip on his guitar, his knuckles turning white.

Y/N, though flattered by the attention, remained loyal to Euronymous. She admired Øystein's rivals talent but recognized that her heart belonged to the man whose music had touched her soul from the very first moment. Yet, the intensity of Euronymous' jealousy grew, threatening to consume him.

Unable to contain his emotions any longer, Euronymous stormed over, his eyes ablaze with a mix of fury and insecurity. He grabbed Y/N's hand, pulling her possessively towards him. The tension in the room was palpable as the two musicians locked eyes, a battle of wills silently raging between them. The thick atmosphere was so tense  that could cut through air.

"Euronymous, you're hurting me" Y/N whispered, her voice filled with concern as he grabbed her with such a force it shocked her.

Euronymous took a deep breath, his fingers relaxing their grip. He realized that his insecurities were unfounded, that her devotion was unwavering. He nodded, his eyes softening as he embraced the weak, almost scared voice of hers.

"We go" Øystein uttered to deescalate the atmosphere, ending their session for the day. As the two of them wanted to exit the studio, the stranger raised his voice.

"You're not man enough to satisfy her like i could" The tall blonde brought out to provoke the situation further, in success. Y/N eyed her boyfriend with a concerned look as she knew those words wouldn't leave him untouched.

"Don't" she begged but Øystein just couldn't let anyone talk to him like that as it fueled his burning rage even further. Without a warning, he lunges forward, throwing a powerful punch at his rival's jaw. The stranger then swiftly ducks under the blow, countering with a lightning-fast kick to Euronymous midsection. The impact sent him stumbling backward, but he quickly regains his footing. It was clearly visible that the tall blonde guy knew how to fight. Nonetheless Øystein didn't care as anger controlled him. They continue their fierce dance, trading blows with calculated precision. Each strike lands with bone-crushing force, their grunts and heavy breaths echoing through the rehearsal room.

Euronymous manages to land a solid punch to his rivals ribs, causing him to wince in pain. However, he retaliates with a series of rapid strikes, hitting Øystein. The both of them had bruises cover their faces yet they were so hurt in their ego and tough image of the evil bad guy, they wouldn't budge to accept defeat. 

"Are you two children?! God stop already" Y/N hissed in disbelief of them fighting over nothing, which left the two unbothered as they were focused on each other.

In a final, desperate move, Øystein launches himself at the buff blonde, tackling him to the ground. They grapple with each other, rolling and twisting, each struggling for the upper hand. 

Just as he thought he had the chance they got distracted by the door being swung open. 

In the end the owner heard their sounds of Y/N cursing, questioning their intelligence, and the fighting noises. He wasn't amused about seeing small splatters of blood on his rug and such inappropriate behavior at his place so he kicked the three of them out. The tall metalhead nod with a hint of acknowledgement in addition of him quietly exiting the room, leaving Euronymous and Y/N alone. Together they shared a sigh before packing their stuff and also exiting the studio.

"You're such a jerk why would you even sink to that level?" Y/N brought out as it was a useless fight in her opinion.

"I'm man enough for you, now he knows that too"

(maybe to be continued with another one-shot of her treating his wounds?)

[writingmysanity]

Until somebody loves you...

Shanks x fem!reader

prompt: Orange

TW: None, shanks is goofy and slightly insufferable. What else is new?

A/N: this is the second installment of the #rainbowdrabblechallenge. I am late, so please excuse me. life and my brain got in the way. but this had to be written for Shanks. This one is for you @deny-the-issue enjoy your love. <3

Song I listened to while writing this!! "You're nobody 'til somebody loves you" by Dean Martin

========

The distant hum of music catches the captain's attention. Finally handing his post over to his first mate, who waves him off, Shanks follows the tune with curiosity. 

He finds you in the Galley, swaying to the music coming from the old record player in the corner. He can't help but smile, leaning against the door as he watches you, listening to you hum along to your mother’s old records. The static-y sound the closest thing you have to comfort, more than anything else back home on dry land. 

He swears there is no one more ethereal than you, completely unaware of your captive audience. Drenched in the orange light of the fading sun, your sleeves are rolled up, slightly damp from the water sloshing up the sides of the tub you're currently bent over. Scrubbing away at the day's dishes, you sing along to the song currently playing. Pausing in your task, you lift your arm from the water to wipe some loose strands of hair from your face, messy and whipped from the wind on the deck not too long earlier. He cant help the smile on his face when you smile in spite of yourself, the lyrics rolling off your lips in earnest. 

“You may be king, you may possess the world and its gold…” you sing softly, the smooth tune carrying on the wind that blows through the open windows. Without thinking, his voice joins yours, the warm baritone melding with your voice seamlessly as he strolls to your side. you don't startle at his sudden presence, allowing him to tug you away from your task.

You don't bother with chastising him about pulling you from your chore. The smile on his face enough to make any words fizzle away as he tugs you closer. Automatically, your arms wind around his neck, neither of you minding the water dripping from your hands. He continues to hum along to the song, spinning you around as his arm settles around your waist, earning a squeal. He grins at the happiness pouring from you, your laughter echoing through the Galley.

Slowly, he spins you out before bringing you back to his chest, meeting your eyes. Sighing happily, you rest in his hold. Laying your head on his shoulder, his voice continues in a whisper, the soothing sound settling around you like the warmth from the mid day sun.

"You're nobody 'til somebody loves you... so find yourself somebody to love..."

======

tag list: @fanaticsnail @sordidmusings @gingernut1314 @stray-kaz @short-honey-badger

[nintendo-b1tch]

hiya! can i request reactions to a reader/ player humming songs- which they probably shouldn't know [at least in the eyes on the chain, As well as other themes,] like- the ballad of the goddess, or epona's theme. maybe zelda's lullaby. song of storms etc.

I’m making this a series with each person! This one is with Legend!

Hope this is good, I’m not very confident about anything I write!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As you began setting up the stage, you couldn't help but notice a group of men nearby. A small smile crept onto your lips, knowing that you would have an audience to share your musical gifts with. Delicately rummaging through your satchel, you retrieved a worn and weathered notebook—a treasure chest of your innermost thoughts and inspirations.

Carefully opening the notebook, your eyes were greeted by a sea of meticulously crafted words and hauntingly beautiful melodies. This notebook held the key to your dreams, capturing every detail and emotion that flickered through your mind. Each song was carefully composed, with melodies that echoed the very essence of your dreams. It was a tangible representation of your imagination and creativity—a cherished possession that held the power to transport you and your band to magical realms.

Last night had been no exception. In the solace of sleep, you had experienced a dream so vivid and extraordinary that it had become the foundation for the song you planned to share with your audience. The dream had woven a tapestry of vibrant colours, intricate plotlines, and ethereal harmonies, all of which you had painstakingly transcribed into the pages of your cherished notebook.

As you sat down, the warm sunlight gently caressed your face, illuminating the words that spilled forth from your pen. With each stroke of the ink, you imbued the song with a piece of your soul, allowing the audience to experience the very essence of your dreams and aspirations. The notebook served as both a conduit and a sanctuary, capturing the delicate balance between reality and imagination that fueled your musical genius.

In this moment, surrounded by the sights and sounds of preparation, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude and purpose. The group of men became silent, captivated by the sight of you pouring your heart onto paper.

As you stood amidst the bustling stable, your observant eyes keenly captured the men engrossed in their own individual tasks. Amidst this sea of faces, your gaze effortlessly homed in on a certain man, his presence seemingly emanating a captivating aura. It was in that moment of connection that your eyes ventured towards his unique attribute—a whimsical pink streak, playfully intermingling with his tousled blond locks. A sense of intrigue filled your being, prompting an involuntary smile to grace your lips, which he quickly averted in response.

A tinge of disappointment subtly crept upon you as he shifted his attention elsewhere. However, just as reality began to quell the excitement within you, your dearest friend, Violynne, materialized, her familiar touch landing on your shoulders. A melodic laughter escaped her lips as she delighted in your startled reaction.

" Hello there, dear dreamer! Our setup is now complete, and we eagerly invite you to partake, " she announced, bearing a radiant smile that transported you back to those cherished childhood memories. This endearing nickname had been affectionately bestowed upon you by your mother, recognizing your innate tendency to wander in the realm of dreams. Through your enchanting melodies, which were born from the depths of your slumbering mind, you effortlessly weaved tales that spoke to the hearts of all who listened.

You stepped onto the stage with a smile as you adjusted the hair pin that held your bangs back. The hair pin was a blooming flower, and adjusting your hair pin was a nervous habit. You closed your eyes to listen to the melody your band mates began to play. You slowly swayed to the melody before you began to sing happily.

" Sleepers wake, dreams will fade...

Although we cling fast...

Was it real, what we saw?

I believe... "

Your eyes locked onto the group of men, and you noticed the one with a pink streak in his messy blond hair was extremely tense as you continued to sing.

" Lost in dreams, we sleep on…

Tossing and turning…

Stay with me, by my side

Never leave... "

As you poured your heart into the song you sang, it was evident that this particular melody held a special significance for you. Its origins traced back to the ephemeral realm of dreams, where your subconscious vividly painted a tale of a heroic figure who unwittingly stumbled upon an enigmatic island. This island, as the mysterious whispers revealed, was not a tangible reality but a mere fabrication conjured by an omnipotent deity.

As the narrative of your dream unfolded, you couldn't help but empathize with the protagonist's emotional journey. The pain that he had endured upon discovering that the object of his affection, the girl he had fallen deeply in love with, was naught but a figment of an otherworldly imagination cut deep into your soul. The sheer disappointment and heartache that he must have experienced mirrored your own heartfelt emotions as you belted out the lyrics, punctuating the tender chords strummed by your bandmates.

Together, your collaborative efforts infused every note with an intense and bittersweet melancholy, painting a vivid sonic landscape that encapsulated the essence of the hero's tumultuous odyssey. You moved in perfect synchrony with the music, swaying and letting the rhythm guide your emotions as you embodied the pain and longing that permeated the hero's every breath.

Within this extended rendition of the song, you found solace in the knowledge that your heartfelt performance resonated with the universal human experience of confronting illusions and facing the inevitable moments of disillusionment. The immersive power of music allowed you to capture the essence of the hero's struggle, giving voice to the unspoken depths of his sorrow and regret. With every carefully crafted lyric and expertly executed musical phrase, you sculpted an auditory masterpiece that touched the hearts of all who listened, inviting them to dwell in the nuanced tapestry of emotions that you wove into the very fabric of your performance.

" What if the worst comes?

If someday this sweet reverie ends

We too, our memories, for real

Fade us by... "

Your eyes were intensely fixated on the group of men who seemed to be in a state of desperate flurry; their efforts to comfort the distraught individual with the unmistakable pink streak in his hair were apparent. It was evident from the violent tremors that ran through his body that he was grappling with an overwhelming sense of distress.

Intriguingly, you found yourself making eye contact with one of the men in the group. His eyes spoke volumes, silently pleading for assistance, as it became increasingly clear that their efforts were falling short and they were unable to assuage the inner turmoil of their comrade.

Without a moment's hesitation, you swiftly descended from the stage, propelled by a potent mix of concern and empathy. Though you were unaware of the exact cause of their distress, a resolute determination to lend a helping hand coursed through your veins, urging you forward.

" Excuse me, could I try? " you uttered softly, gently tapping the shoulder of one of the men who had been valiantly striving to bring solace to the troubled hero. Sensing the urgency in your voice, he stepped back, granting you an opportunity to offer your aid. You instinctively pulled the distressed individual into your embrace, guiding his head to rest against the comforting warmth of your chest.

As the haunting melody you had just performed on stage lingered in the air, you slowly resumed singing, the melodic strains weaving their way around the tense atmosphere. With every dulcet note resonating through the space, a sense of tranquility descended, wrapping its soothing tendrils around the agitated man. A tender smile graced your lips, highlighting the genuine affection that emanated from deep within your soul.

Your fingers, seemingly guided by an invisible force, caressed his dishevelled blond locks, gently untangling them with each tender stroke. The delicate touch of your fingertips served as a calming balm, soothing the frayed edges of his distressed spirit.

As you reassured him, " You're okay, you're okay now, alright? " In a gentle and soothing tone, a warm smile slowly formed on your face. Looking into his eyes, you noticed a faint blush appearing on his cheeks, indicating that your comforting words and touch were having an effect on him. He leaned towards your touch, seeking solace and support in your presence, and it melted your heart to witness his vulnerability.

However, it was the heartbreaking mumble that escaped his lips next that truly struck a chord within you.

" Don't leave me too... " The desperation laced in his voice made it clear that he not only craved reassurance in that moment, but he also dreaded the thought of being abandoned or left alone. His fear and vulnerability resonated deeply with you, igniting a sense of empathy within your being.

In response to his plea, tears of empathy welled up in your eyes, but you quickly composed yourself, determined to provide him with the reassurance and support he needed. Your smile softened even further as you leaned in and gently pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, aiming to convey your unwavering presence and commitment to him.

In that simple, intimate gesture, your intention was to assure him that you would never leave him. The gentle warmth that your lips offered to his forehead was a physical manifestation of your emotional connection and promise to stand by his side, even through the darkest of moments.

As the vibrant sun gracefully descended beneath the horizon, casting a warm and gentle glow over the surroundings, you found yourself in a position of comfort and solace. It was in this serene moment that you gently aided the man, now affectionately referred to as Legend, in finding peaceful repose. With utmost tenderness, you supported his head against your thighs, a gesture that invoked a flicker of contentment within your heart. A soft smile adorned your face as your delicate fingers mindfully glided through his silky strands of blond hair. Seemingly lost in the tranquilly of the scene, his hat lay peacefully nearby, a testament to the connection you both shared.

Yet, as your eyes wandered beyond the partnered hush, you couldn't help but notice the penetrating gaze of the other men. Caught off guard by their unspoken curiosity, you broke the silence and sought an explanation for their inquisitive stares.

" What? " you inquired, a hint of puzzlement lacing your voice. Uncertainty lingered as to why the sight of you and Legend together seemed to evoke such intrigue.

One of the men, his countenance adorned with distinctive facial markings, stepped forward, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and intrigue. " It's just, " he began, a hint of awe colouring his words.

" We've come to know Legend as a man who rarely succumbs to the solace of sleep. " This revelation nudged your curiosity towards the forefront, urging you to delve deeper into the intricate layers that made up the enigmatic character that was Legend.

With a thoughtful gaze, you studied his slumbering form, tracing the contours of his face with gentle admiration. It was then that your observations brought forth the telltale signs of weariness etched beneath his eyes, appearing as delicate lines reminiscent of the weight he undoubtedly carried. The realization of his sleep-deprived state deepened your understanding of the complexities woven into the fabric of his being.

A second man, adorned in a tunic blending shades of green and brown, broke the silence, his voice carrying a trace of vulnerability and compassion.

" When he does finally surrender to sleep, " he confessed, a hint of trepidation present in his words, " it often leads him down a path plagued by haunting nightmares. " The gravity of this revelation hung heavy in the air, painting a vivid picture of a man who stood on the precipice of sleep, forever entangled in the clutches of his past.

In that moment, the significance of your presence and the solace you provided to Legend transcended mere comfort. Through your touch and unwavering support, you symbolized a sanctuary from the terrors that beset his slumber. And as you continued to tenderly caress his hair, you understood the profound impact of your actions. You had become the guardian of his blissful reprieve, a silent protector ushering him into the realm of restorative dreams, free from the relentless grip of his haunting nightmares.

" I see... " you mumbled, absorbing the information given by the group. They had just discussed their plans to leave the stable tomorrow, but the mere thought of your companion experiencing a violent breakdown during a nightmare tugged at your heartstrings. It was in that moment that you made a firm decision—you needed to stay by his side.

Unable to bear the thought of him suffering, you mustered up the courage to ask, " Can I come along? I can't stand the thought of him enduring pain alone. Please, allow me to join. I may not have experience using a sword, but I have received some basic self-defence training. " As you glanced around the room, your eyes fixated on the swords that were positioned beside each of the men. Their presence intimidated you, yet your determination outweighed any fear.

After a brief pause, one of the men responded, " Well, if you're willing to fight the monsters we encounter on this journey, then sure, you can come with us. "

Relieved by their acceptance, a smile formed on your lips. However, curiosity got the best of you, and you couldn't help but inquire about their names. It was then that Time took the initiative to introduce the group, pointing to each man as he spoke. " You can call me Time. This is Sky, " he gestured towards a man with a cloak and green tunic " Wild, also known as Chef, " he continued, indicating a man who had a blue tunic and ponytail. " Four, or Smith, " Time pointed to yet another member, whose steady gaze exuded a sense of reliability. " Hyrule, or Rulie, " he said, motioning to a man with a brown and green tunic. " Twilight, or Rancher, " Time indicated a figure with a mysterious aura. " Warriors, sometimes referred to as Captain, this is Wind or Sailor " he spoke of a man who emanated authority with a flowing blue scarf and a teen with a blue shirt. Finally, he revealed the man you were holding onto, saying, " And the one you're holding is Legend, though many call him Veteran. "

As the names of these individuals echoed in your mind, you began to piece together the diverse group before you. Each name held significance, representing facets of their personalities and strengths. It was clear that you had joined a band of resilient warriors, ready to face the perils that awaited them on their journey.

With a smile and your heart brimming with anticipation, you eagerly embraced the upcoming adventure. The anticipation was almost palpable in the air. But as excitement engulfed you, your joyous mood was abruptly interrupted when Warriors unexpectedly clasped onto your arm and forcibly guided you towards the stable. The suddenness of this action caught you off guard, resulting in a surprised squeak escaping from your lips.

" Wa-Wait! What about Legend!? " You blurted out, your voice filled with concern, as you were whisked away into the stable against your will.

Inside the stable, as Warriors began examining your attire and diligently taking measurements, you were left puzzled by his actions. What was he doing? Why did he seem so focused on your outfit? These questions swirled around your mind, only adding to your confusion.

" Since you are joining our ranks, wearing a dress simply won't do. Your movements must be unhindered, and you must be prepared for combat at all times, " Warriors explained earnestly, his voice carrying a touch of authority. His words resonated with you, triggering a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. As your mind raced to grasp this sudden change in attire, Warriors assured you that your new outfit would be ready by the following day.

With these words ringing in your ears, you swiftly made your way back to Legend, who lay anxiously in the designated area. His distressed state was evident as he trembled, tossed, and turned, desperately reaching out for your presence. It tore at your heartstrings to witness his unease.

Determined to soothe his worries, you hurriedly approached and embraced him. His trembling arms clung tightly to your waist, seeking comfort and reassurance. As his head nestled against your stomach, his once-tense body gradually relaxed, surrendering to the familiarity of your touch. A genuine smile delicately crept upon your lips as you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, ensuring him of your undying devotion.

[marthawrites]

A Game of Chase

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 5.7k+

Can be read as a stand alone, but reads best as pt 2 to Pretty Girl

About: You and your best friend go out to a local event. While there, Aemond, surprisingly, makes an appearance. With quick wit you pretend like it's your first time meeting. Equally quick and curious, he plays along. A game of chase ends up with some unexpected aftershocks.

Includes: About half plot and porn. Explicit sexual content! Rough!Aemond with themes of jealousy, possessiveness, and obsession. Sexual/tension, fingering, blowjob, p in v, and a sweet ending.

Note: Hello lovely reader! I had to return to this AU - just had to! One day I will learn to not be a wordy bitch but today is not that day. Reader is nondescript and implied to be 21+ due to alcohol consumption. As always, it is my highest hope that you enjoy this story! ♥

-

The city below sparked with life in every corner and lane. You leaned on the balcony's railing and looked over the last remains of sunset: spilled watercolors across a slowly dimming sky. As the last rays of sun disappeared, spring's chill swirled through the air making you wish you wore a jacket over your black evening dress. 

"Christ. If we're out here any longer my nipples are gonna jab through this dress," your best friend, Rebecca, said with a noticeable shiver. "Shit, girl! Let's go inside." She hooked an arm through yours and turned to guide you both inside where it was much warmer. She looked gorgeous tonight in a mauve dress, silver heels, and silver jewelry. It all accented the lovely hue of her hair and skin; strands of hair loose to frame her classic face. Her seemingly effortless femininity always had you jealous. She was much more "girly girl" than you, and you relied on her often.

"No leather jackets and no jeans! And oh my God none of your combat boots! This is a formal event. Not one of your creepy bonfire circles with gas station beer." Rebecca had told you earlier with a dramatic roll of her eyes, humor clear on her face. "Who knows. Maybe you'll find someone to put your last hook up to shame," she winked.

There was no way you weren't going to tell her about Aemond. Except, much to her dismay, you didn't tell her tell her; just the bare bones of it. You met a guy through work, hit it off, and ended up getting laid after he took you out. 

She wanted the deets. You were keeping your mouth shut. She hated you. 

You didn't even mention his name! With it being unique you knew she'd do some serious digging – and you already did. Local cryptids had a bigger digital footprint than him. Considering the day and age, maybe it should have been a red flag… Bec wouldn't let you live that down.

"Will you shut up about that?" You laughed. "Okay okay. I'll skip my favorite jacket and boots too. Only, and only, because I just got a fresh pedi. You can take my lipstick and eyeliner out of my cold dead hands though," you threatened.

"Those are your trademarks and we both know it. Besides, you look hot with it. Black dress and… black heels too. Your strappy ones!" You let her pick your outfit. When it was time to leave you looked good.

Bec was the only person who could play with you like a human barbie. You two went through high school together – and all the awkwardness that brought – and even college. You'd been through thick and thin and you loved her more than anyone else. You two even used each other to learn how to kiss. A truly fun and silly experience in hindsight.

This event happened twice a year. Music was huge in the area. More specifically, classic music. The university had one of the best programs in the country and was widely respected for it. At a young age your love for the violin blossomed into something truly spectacular. While it fell to the back burner during college, it remained a cherished hobby. Bec's skill was her voice. It earned her lead soprano. She was ethereal. Listening to her in the choir – whether part of the group, doing a solo, or singing with any of the other leads – was something to behold.

"I'm so glad you were able to come out tonight. It just wouldn't be the same without you," you told her as you both walked away from the bar with drinks in hand.

"Trust. I wouldn't miss it. Hubs can handle things for one night," she laughed even as her eyes rolled in feigned annoyance. She smirked and sipped her beverage.

Everyone seemed to be dressed in their finest. Dresses, suits, and glittering jewelry sparkled beneath the ornate lighting. Various perfumes and colognes hung in the air to create an atmosphere of intimacy. Some of the attendees looked young enough to have just graduated high school while others were grayed and wrinkled with time. The common thread of everyone was their love for music. It was truly a treat.

"I'm constantly shocked at how young the freshmen look every year. Look at them. Babies!" You exclaimed, tilting your head in the direction of a small group of friends who probably couldn't even buy alcohol yet. It prompted you to your drink; an accidental gulp instead of a sip.

In the theme of the event, music played over the speakers which seemed to bring everyone closer.

You two made your way to a bar table by the facade window. The soft lighting and twinkling accents brought out a pink in both of your cheeks that only fine liquor could coax.

"I wish you'd tell me more about your mystery man! Honestly I'm starting to think it was that cute coworker of yours who I like to make eyes at. He's a blusher! You know you could tell me if it was him, right?" She teased you easily.

You gasped. "Oh, wow! You truly have so little faith in me? I wouldn't hook up with your boyfriend," you laughed, unable to keep your mock shock up for long. "You know, it's starting to be more fun holding this over your head than actually giving you all the dirty details." You chased the thin straw of your drink, flashing her a tauntingly playful expression.

She'd just opened her mouth to retort when something else caught her attention. "Oh my God no way," she slammed her free hand atop the table in surprise. "I didn't think he'd come! Here I thought he was way too cool and too busy to make an appearance."

You snorted a laugh as Bec started waving an arm to beckon him over. "Another boyfriend? Sheesh." You teased. She was happily married and you only liked to flick her shit.

"Hey! Yeah, you! I'm so glad you came. Come over here and meet my girl. Y/N, this is Aemond. Aemond, this is Y/N."

Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

Bec kept talking, explaining how she knew both of you. You, her best friend since high school. Him, a piano enthusiast who'd taken the university's classes multiple times purely for pleasure. Her voice droned. You heard none of it. Not with Aemond standing there, hand in one of his pockets, drink in the other, looking like that.

Was it even legal for a man to look so fucking good? He looked absolutely stunning. The three-piece suit he donned had to be specially tailored for him because there was no way a regular suit could fit him like that. Black, charcoal, and deep green; it made his naturally silver-white hair and fair skin all the more stark. The subtle pinstripes of his pants and coat elongated his already tall frame, and the tip of his pointed shoes were in a single direction: you.

With Bec introducing, you had fleeting seconds to decide how you'd react to this. "Aemond," you said his name like it was the first time you'd tested it on your tongue. "Nice to meet you.” You sipped to hide smirking lips. Quiet mischief danced behind your eyes. ‘Play with me,’ they said. ‘You feeling it?’ they taunted.

“Hmm,” Aemond hummed while looking over you like he might have recognized you from somewhere. “I thought perhaps we had a class together. But, I don’t think so. Those aren’t pianist hands,” he said, tiny dimples betraying his restrained smirk.

“Ha!” Bec all but snorted. “No. No no no. She does not. She’s a ranger of our lovely national park and she plays the fiddle for Bigfoot.”

Aemond blinked, taken back.

“What the hell, Bec!” You blushed, embarrassment waving up in you like a tide. “You can’t just go telling people that all willy-nilly!” Despite the embarrassment, you laughed, as did Rebecca, and some of the palpable tension between you and Aemond melted. Perhaps she’d done you two tricksters more of a favor than you realized.

“This is Bigfoot country, is it not? I’m into cryptids,” Aemond replied smoothly. “Wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it tonight. But, now I’m glad I did,” he added in that same tone, taking an extra moment to glance over you appreciatively. “Becca’s hard to miss, but it was you who called me over here from across the floor.”

You arched a brow at his forwardness. “Wow. Uhm… I didn’t notice you at all,” you quipped cheekily before taking the last swill of your beverage.

Bec rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Aemond. You’re gonna have to try harder than that. My girl here isn’t quite so easy.”

A genuine smile flashed across his features to brighten his eye. “Right. I’ll have to try harder for that one,” he said amusingly.

“Well. I feel a second one calling my name. Catch you later, Becs,” you said before turning, doing your absolute best (and somehow succeeding) to not flick another glance to the Targaryen tech giant who stood tall and wonderfully imposing next to your best friend. Would he still smell like clean laundry as he did the last time you two were together? Or would he perhaps carry the faintest aromas of shared perfumes, cigarette smoke, and cool night spring air? You dared not glance over your shoulder. You couldn’t be certain, but you swore his gaze trailed after you until you disappeared into the crowd.

An hour passed and you didn’t see either of them. The crowd was growing looser; people mingled like old friends. Karaoke replaced the overhead music and with it brought a fresh batch of excitement and silliness. The entire vibe of the place slowly shifted and you found yourself happily chatting with strangers like they were long lost college, or even high school, friends. 

It was during that occasion you finally caught sight of him again. You were buzzed – happy – talking to a dark haired man with a dazzling smile. Each time he did his entire face lit up and sent the corners of his eyes crinkling. He was playing the charm game very well. If you didn’t already have secret plans to leave with Aemond, he very well might have talked you out of your pretty black dress. Aemond didn’t know that, of course, and when you could still see him at the edge of your peripheral you knew the little game just went up a notch.

Another hour passed in the blink of an eye. Bec had to leave – turns out her hubs couldn’t handle everything on his own for a night. The dark-haired man, while attractive and sweet, wasn’t what you had in mind. Once you finally managed to slide away from him you sat at the bar. You’d been standing most of the night and your feet were starting to ache in the heels you rarely wore. The bartender handed you your final drink for the night. You sat alone. Relaxed. Content to people watch as the event resembled more of a high-end bar at this hour.

Again, from the corner of your eye, you saw Aemond linger just there. Just at the edge of your vision. Playing. Teasing – a silent stalk. However, you pretended like you didn’t. You slowly traced the rim of your glass, attention elsewhere. With one leg crossed over the other you leisurely bounced your foot at the ankle, the heel of your shoe tapping against the heel of your foot. Quiet. Confident. Even if Aemond hadn't already known you he would have been drawn to you. It was the tiny knowing smirk at the outermost edge of your mouth that really called to him. ‘I see you,’ it said. ‘What are you going to do?’ it purred.

“Is this seat taken?” Aemond’s smooth voice came from beside you.

With a shake of your head you answered, “it wasn’t. But I think it is now.” Your pretty eyes lingered over him and you just now noticed the three headed dragon tassel he wore on his collar. The buttons of his cuffs were the same three headed dragon. Half of his hair was pulled back and secured into a bun at the back of his head, and you wanted nothing more than to loosen it and let the strands fall over your hand. 

“Good,” he all but purred, leaning in a little closer than was truly necessary. “Hm… I don’t know what it is about you, pretty girl, but there’s something about you that keeps pulling me in.”

“Bold of you to say to someone you’ve just met,” you replied through a laugh, giving him a sly side glance from beneath your lashes.

“Perhaps,” he said quickly, leaning on the bar as he stood between you and the empty stool at your side. “But, I think you’ve been eyeing me all night too. Unable to truly lose track of me in this crowd,” his voice was a low rumble and it sent a shudder of excitement all up and down your spine.

“What makes you think that? This is the first time I’ve seen you since Bec introduced us. Honestly, I thought you left.”

He chuffed amusedly. “Sure, okay,” he started. “Is that why you can’t quite look me in the eyes? Or why you let that man paw all over you once you knew I was there? Or… why you only came here once it was empty and I was there?” He tilted his head slightly, just slight, as he spoke; smug condescendence angled his jaw.

It took everything you had to steady the excitement in your voice. “You’re very observant, Aemond,” his name dripped like honey from your tongue. “What do you plan to do with all those observations, hm?”

“Lots,” he answered lowly, triumphantly. “Let’s get out of here.”

Giddiness bubbled up from your core. Before you could stop yourself, you answered, “no. I don’t think so.” The change of his expression filled you with victory. This was your game and you were still playing by your own rules even if that meant making them up as you went. “Here is my offer, Mr. Targaryen. I’m leaving. You will give me your number and if I’m feeling up to it, I’ll text you my address.” The pupil of his good eye expanded; black swallowing violet. You wanted to cheer. He wasn’t expecting this, you thought. “Take it or leave it. If you leave it… I have another number to fall back on.”

“Give me your phone,” he said, posture and jaw tight. You did. He tapped his thumbs a few times on the screen before handing it back. 

As soon as you had your phone back you stood. “That’s what I thought,” you told him softly, smugly, not giving him a chance to reply before walking towards the exit.

Game over. You won.

Truthfully you would have left with him immediately, but your house was a mess and you weren't going to invite him over to this. It took perhaps twenty minutes to give the entry way, living room, and kitchen a quick clean sweep. From there, it took maybe half the time to shove everything out of place in your bedroom in your closet. You’d properly tidy later. But now? No. The only thing on your mind was the look on Aemond’s face when you laid out your terms for the night.

You texted him your address and nothing else. Now, it was your turn to wait.

Barely ten minutes passed before a knock sounded at your door. Peeking out from behind a curtain you saw it was Aemond. A secret smile plastered on your face and you wondered what he’d been doing for the last half hour. It took at least fifteen minutes to get to the event hall, so he must have already been out driving in the general direction. Either that, or, he broke every traffic rule to get to you in record time. You opened the door only to be shoved back inside, door slamming closed behind both of you. A sound between a gasp and strangled moan broke from you beneath his kiss as his hands were all all over you at once; sliding, groping, pressing.

“Did you have fun with your little game?” He asked hot against your mouth. You were trapped between the back of your couch and his looming form. The furniture was the first thing to get in the way of your eager bodies.

Your breath shuddered, chest rising and falling above the black neckline of your dress. “Aemond,” you managed to whisper hoarsely. Nothing else formed on your tongue before it was against Aemond’s for a second time.

“I could have had that entire fucking hall dismissed in an instant. You know that, right?” You didn’t ask how or why because you didn’t fucking care. Not now. Not with his mouth on yours, and his hands squeezing your hips and waist, his thigh between your legs. “And then you force me to stalk you around the crowd. Watch you flirt so easily with other men. Watch weaker men stare after you like sniveling piglets.” His teeth sunk into your neck until you yelped, body squirming against his.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, head buzzing with a hundred different things all at once. Heat flooded your core. Thrill webbed throughout all your senses until you were keenly aware of even the tips of your fingers, toes, and ears. He bit again, softer this time, making his way down the length of your neck to your collarbone. “I didn’t think you’d play along for as long as you did,” you simpered, hands rubbing up the sides of his smooth face until your fingers were tangled in his silken hair.

Both his hands pressed up your ribs until the weight of your breasts sat upon them. You couldn’t see from your angle, but he was biting and sucking little hickeys all down your skin. “Do you think that dark-haired man would have tried as hard as he did… pathetic, really… if you were already marked by my teeth, hm?” As if to make his point even clearer, he drew in a mouthful of your soft cleavage and worked it until you yelped, forcefully pulling his head back with a wet pop. A dark bruise was already forming; the deepest one yet.

“What the hell? You’re fucking crazy,” you moaned, breathlessly looking down at him, arousal turning your blood to fire. “Is that what this is about? Me flirting with that guy?” Your face bloomed with heat.

“If I knew you were going to be there you’d have been on my arm the whole night. Fun as it was, pretty girl, I wanted to gouge the eyes out of every man who looked at you for too long.” He was hard inside his pants, painfully trapped inside the confines of the fine material.

Aemond didn’t strike you as the possessive type. It shocked you. Even scared you a little. “Holy shit, Aem,” you said, trying to catch your breath from the assault of his hands, mouth, and intentions. “I just thought we were having fun. With you only being here for a visit I didn’t think it was anything serious, ya know? Fuck.” Your hands fell from his hair to instead push yours back.

“At first I thought so too,” he replied, voice and body language softer now. “I was immediately drawn to you. As soon as you opened the door at your ranger cabin in your dorky uniform...,” he kissed you again, gentle and easy. He felt you melt into and against him. “Distance doesn’t matter to me. In another time my family would be kings,” he smirked, holding your face between his hands to read it.

“If you are a king or a prince –” you teased, playfully mocking the old timey titles, “ – then let me be your queen or your princess.” Your hands trailed down the sides of his biceps, across the front of his chest, down the plane of his abdomen. His intensity could surely frighten other women away, but you found yourself drawn to it. A fire burned beneath his skin and you wanted nothing more than to feel its heat against your own.

Aemond read you well, eyes squinting down at you as you traced and caressed over his clothed form. Something in his gaze shifted, then. A game of his own, you recognized.

His turn.

“Would he have been able to excite you like this?” Your dress had bunched up high around your thighs and he took full advantage of it. With his question he trailed the tips of his fingers over the front of your clothed cunt. Your warmth tingled his fingertips. “Could he have gotten this pussy so wet?” He asked, slipping his touch beneath the front of your panties to your bare folds. “Hm?” He inquired, the pads of two easily sliding up your slit and to your clit where he rubbed small, firm circles. You were soaked.

You jolted, legs tightening. “Aem…,” you warbled, back arching. Your body was desperate for him. One of your hands lowered to the wrist he was using to tease you, eyes looking up at him in a silent plea. “No,” you answered. “He couldn’t.” You squeezed your hand around his wrist, then, urging his fingers to slide into you.

A satisfied growl rumbled in his throat at the combination of your admission and grip. “I didn’t think so…,” he cooed, following your touch as he pushed a long slender finger into your body. “I missed this pussy,” he admitted, bending his head to catch your pleased sigh in a kiss. He swirled and pressed along your walls, reveling in the way you felt around him and the muffled sounds you made.

By now your alcohol buzz was gone and you were entirely drunk on Aemond. He spun you in a whirlwind and you were at his mercy. It was when he pushed a second finger into you that you broke the kiss, unable to hold back the moan he pulled from you. “They feel so good…,” Aemond-drunk and pleasure-drunk; the night was just beginning.

“There,” he said as your eyes fluttered and struggled to stay even half open. “Cum on these fingers so we can take this pretty dress off.” He pumped both in and out of you with added fervor, now, relishing just how fucking wet you were. There was no denying or hiding the sloppy little sounds that came from between your thighs. Those, mixed with your continued pleasured whimpers, made for a delicious melody that made Aemond’s cock throb.

“O-oh..! Right there, just like that! Please…,” you whispered as if in prayer. Your hand squeezed tighter around his wrist as he fucked his fingers into you at that same wonderful angle and pace. Even without your pleas he could tell you were close. Your cunt squeezed around him a little tighter, hips squirming, grinding down on his hand for added pressure. You dipped your head into his chest, hips rolling with his pace, and it was when he squeezed a third inside you that you absolutely lost it. Orgasm washed over you in lovely waves of bliss. You trembled; walls clamped around him rhythmically. You panted. Blissed out and ready for another.

As soon as you came down from your natural high Aemond helped you out of your clothes. Dress, bra, panties. They were all tossed aside somewhere in your living room.

Then, it was your turn to help him out of his own clothing. “Fuck, you have beautiful tits,” he said as he stood in front of you in only his briefs. He bent down to lick and kiss over them appreciatively, holding the soft mounds in his hands. 

You giggled at the tickling sensation it gave your sensitive skin. “My room is down this way,” you said with a tilt of your head, taking his hand and leading him through the kitchen, down a short hallway, and into your room. It was only illuminated by an essential oil diffuser which glowed with a soft pink. It steadily misted with a heady mix of oils. 

Once there it was your turn to have your hands all over him. You trailed along every bit of him that you could. From his shoulders, to his arms, across the patch of hair along the center of his chest, and down his lean abdomen, until your fingers hooked beneath the hem of his briefs. You pushed him further into your room until the backs of his legs hit the outside of your bed. 

Sitting on the edge he pulled you to him by your waist, coaxing you to stand between his parted legs. He unabashedly bit into the meat of your hip. One of his hands reached behind you to squeeze your asscheek, giving it a firm smack. 

You jumped at the combination, goosebumps racing to the top of your skin. "My turn to make you feel good…," you grinned, tugging the bun at the back of his head so he was forced to look up at you. "How dare you look so fucking good in a suit. It's really not even fair. Pinstripes, really? And your three headed dragons? It should be me who is green with jealousy over all the women who were checking you out."

Whether you were merely teasing or being wholly serious, Aemond didn't care. You had taken control of the flow once again. He let you have it, let you hold onto the reins if only for a moment. He loved seeing you like this. The faintest hint of pink shone in his cheeks at your compliment.

Releasing his hair you sunk down to your knees. You kissed the flat of his abdomen, beneath his navel, nipping the skin there as your hands pulled the front of his briefs down. He groaned in relief when his cock finally sprang free. Too long had it been solid and trapped; the generous size of him aching to be released for longer than he cared to admit. "So big…," you praised, idly stroking him as you looked up at him.

Seeing you so eager on your knees snapped something in him, and any chance of playing nice broke as soon as your warm tongue swiped along the underside of his shaft. "That's right," he muttered through a pleased groan. "It's like you forgot how fucking good this cock made you feel. Making me play along with your silly game," he tutted, seizing a handful of your hair in his fist. "Parading around like you weren't already mine…," his voice dark, dangerous. "You need to be reminded, pretty girl. Of whose you are, and of how good only my cock can make you feel."

Your belly flipped at the change of his demeanor. The way his eye pulled you into the void of its blackness. You looked up at him like the little doe you were. With his help, and in a single shared motion, you raked his undergarment down his legs to throw it aside. His hand was still knotted in your hair and, using that, he pulled your mouth to his cock until he hit your gag reflex.

Instantly you choked. He fucking groaned as your throat constricted around him. Saliva pooled in your mouth. Your hands gripped over his thighs, fingernails digging into the lean muscle there. He lifted your head up only to do it once more; slower, more deliberate, savoring the sensation of your mouth around him for the first time. And a third time, too. After a moment both his hands lifted your head off him, smiling softly. It wasn't what you expected. It was the gentlest he'd been since arriving. "Too much? Or are you okay?"

It was the sincerity in which he spoke that made you want to slap him, kiss him, and jump on him. All at once. Instead of any of those, you laughed. You wiped away some smeared mascara from under your eyes and nodded, unable to stop laughing. "Surprising, yeah. But, I'm okay. Thanks for checking."

He smirked. That asshole. "Good," he replied, leaning back on one hand while spreading his legs wider apart. "You don't have to be easy with me."

You didn't have anything to say, simply scooted closer into him and looked up at him with those big doe eyes smeared with the night's makeup. You took him in your mouth once again – on your own terms this time. His hand rested lightly at the back of your head in an attempt to keep your hair from falling in your face. You sucked more of him in, then pulled back, plunging forward once again to swallow yet even more of his length.

A truly delectable groan rumbled out from Aemond's throat. He couldn't help it. Your mouth felt so fucking good. He looked down at you, glaring, while a pleasured grin spread across his face; the black of his eye making it all the more lecherous. "Fuck. 'M not gonna last long if you keep doing that."

"Good," you shot back in the same manner of his. "You deserve to cum for playing my silly little game." You didn't go easy on him. Lewd glugs and hot pants filled your room; his hisses and gasps accented the depravity. Saliva drooled helplessly from your mouth and made it all the more sloppy. When your hand moved to cup and massage along his balls you were surprised to feel those already coated in your saliva.

"I'm close… gonna be good and swallow me whole?" He moaned, length somehow getting even fucking harder if that was even possible.

You weren't stopping to say anything back. Your other hand gripped onto whatever wasn't in your mouth and stroked along him firmly, still rolling his sack in your other. He took that as a yes.

The would-be Targaryen prince erupted down your throat with a string of muttered curses and praises. His lean body flexed and shuddered, toes twitching and curling as he rode the waves of climax. His hand had never clenched your hair again, yet it fell heavily like it was tired from holding a fist. "Christ, woman," he breathed, glowing. 

You stood and wiped the back of your hand across your mouth. "Yeah," you replied dreamily as you plopped onto your back atop the bed; grinning like the sloppy blowjob gave you as much pleasure as it did him. Or, perhaps it was merely pride.

Both of you stayed like that for a minute – catching your breath. He rolled over. Those slim hips fit easily between your thighs as his hands planted heavily beside your head. A sly grin graced his chiseled features.

"You're already hard again?"

"Can't help it, pretty girl. You're too sexy," he answered, lining himself up with your eager opening. He wasted little time in pushing into you, hissing at the sensation. "God you're so fucking wet from sucking me off."

The stretch of your body around his girth stole your breath. He stilled to let your walls accommodate his size. "You're right. How could I have forgotten how good this cock makes me feel?" You whined up at him, spine arching beneath him tantalizingly. You were more than slick enough for his intrusion, and now you were full. Absolutely full of him. Slowly, he pulled out. Easily, he pushed back in. Your breath turned ragged and quick, lovely pressure building in your core until it moaned out of your red-smeared lips. "Shit, yes," you whimpered, nails digging into his back.

Leaning up, Aemond grabbed both of your ankles in a single hand and threw them over a shoulder. The new angle sent him railing toward your belly button. His cockhead dragged against that deep, deliciously sensitive spot, over and over, your pussy hot and perfect for his ravaging. "Taking me sooo well…," he praised between slapping skin and your cries of bliss. The palm of his free hand pushed down and splayed wide over your low belly; claiming and intensifying your pleasure.

The added pressure sent fire blazing through your senses. Orgasm consumed you quickly and harshly, and you squeezed the sheets in tight fists as he fucked you through it. The edge of your vision blurred with ecstasy.

"Fuck, yes," Aemond panted, sweat glistening on his brow. "Feel so fuckin' good squeezing me like that." His length harded like iron yet again, balls tightening in preparation for a second release. His pace grew sloppier as he chased his high.

"Fill me up, Aem," you cooed up at him, nodding fervently. "Do it, fill me up." Your voice broke off into syllables and mutters, eyes desperate.

Hearing that was all he needed. He twitched inside you, spilling ropes of his seed deep and shallow alike inside your greedy cunt. Finally, with his firm chest heaving, he let go of your ankles and eased out of you. He flopped onto his back beside you, grinning like a fool. "Alright, babe, you're on water and cleaning duty this time."

You giggled. Actually giggled. "In a minute." You laid on your side and cuddled against him, laying your head on his chest – his heart thumping powerfully below your cheek. A contented silence settled over both of you. He stroked your hair, and you his torso. Once his pulse calmed you leaned up and smiled at him. "That was seriously amazing, the fuck?" you said with a satisfied blush. On your dresser was a pile of clean washcloths you forgot to put away. You used one on yourself and tossed another to Aemond. "Be right back." You put on a new t-shirt and underwear before leaving.

When you came back with water and snacks, Aemond was already browsing through your Netflix. "It's all murder docs and shitty reality tv," he teased.

"Oh shut up," you retorted, rolling your eyes. "Here I brought you snacks and you're talking shit."

"Thanks," he said appreciatively. When you laid by him it was his turn to cuddle into you. 

Eventually you decided on a horror movie neither of you had seen but agreed looked either really good or hilariously bad.

He stayed the night, and there may or may not have been a third round before sleep finally settled over your pleasantly exhausted bodies.

-

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider a follow and reblog as I have plans to create and share more writings ♥

here is my masterlist

taglist: @melsunshine  @iiamthehybrid  @arcielee  @nina2697 @darylandbethfanforever9 @sahvlren @targaryenbrainrot @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy @ruby-dragon @aemonds-fire @meggiemay82 @doublesparrows @silverwinged @nikstrange @tssf-imagines

To be added or removed, please let me know!

[its-time-to-write]

ch. 4 - hustling for the good life

table of contents Oh hey it’s Jamie’s side of things

also. I don’t proofread. yes I’m sorry, no I won’t change my ways.

takes one to know one

Here’s the thing. While you’ve been hopping around London, doing interviews and press and meeting all sorts of talented musicians, Jamie’s been doing his own work. Namely, badgering Keeley about his chances with you.

“She’s really pretty,” he confessed in the car on the way home from Isaac and Stella’s. “She’s like, fucking I don’t know, ethereal or some shit.” Keeley’s basically passed out, which is why Jamie is talking so freely. He knows she won’t remember shit. 

“Learned that word the other day,” he continues, “It’s like something you see can can’t totally understand. Or like, out of your league. Anyway, that’s her. Think she was all freaked out, though. Maybe too many people. Weird, innit, international star like her anxious in a crowd of people. But I really liked talking to her. Fuck, Keeley, she’s smart. You can tell in her lyrics.”

Keeley responds with a snore.

Jamie chuckles. “Yeah, alright, we’re almost to Roy’s. Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, yeah? Like I said, not like she’d go with someone like me anyway.”

—

Jamie severely underestimated Keeley’s ability to retain juicy gossip. Yeah she was sloshed, so much so that Roy had to carry her inside and onto the bed, but that didn’t stop her from sending Jamie a text the next morning that said, ?????? and a gif of your face.

Jamie replied in kind. ??????

U fucking kno what im asking, Keeley replied. U like her.

Jamie responds, that aint a question, keels

Fine, Keeley writes, here’s one

What the fuck did you mean, ‘someone like me????’

Jamie grimaces and puts his phone down. He’ll respond to that later but now, he has to go running around the field and puke his guts out because Roy’s a fucking sadist.

—

Jamie’s been a fan of your music since, like, your first single. He’s not even sure how he first heard it but he did, and then he’d listen to it when no one could catch him.

Then you started gaining popularity, and it was more acceptable for him to listen to your soft yet upbeat songs. He came home one weekend to find his mum playing Blue Glass on a speaker in the kitchen, and they sat down at the counter and listened to the entire album, not speaking the whole time while Simon puttered around cooking dinner.

He’s followed your career through the trade from Manchester to Richmond, then back to Man City and then Richmond again. 

And yeah, he’s had a little bit of a crush.

But god, there’s no fucking way he has a shot in hell. Sure, he’s the Premier League’s top player, but you? You’re on another level.

Paps don’t even bother trying to slander you anymore because they’ll never find a speck of dirt on you. There are always pictures of you volunteering, or visiting kids in hospitals, or petting dogs or some shit. Stuff that’s usually staged, but with you it isn’t.

You’ve never had a scandal hit the papers, always been spotted out with a famous model/actor/singer boyfriend who has never once been seen cheating on you. Jamie wonders if anyone could even consider cheating on someone with as much talent and kindness as you seem to possess.

Anyway, you’d never go for someone with his relatively checkered past. All you have to do is google “Jamie Tartt,” and there he is, making out with models, headlining cheating scandals, and having sex in fucking jacuzzis.

Yeah, you’d never go for it.

But as he’s at training, running drills and practicing goals, he keeps thinking about the way you looked with your feet in the pool, hair blowing softly in the breeze.

He decides to have a serious chat with Keeley.

—

He turns up to Keeley’s house and fucking Roy’s there, except this time it’s not really a surprise. Roy opens the door, scoffs, then walks away. 

“Prick’s here,” he calls to Keeley somewhere in the house, except it’s not as angry as it used to be. Jamie can almost trick himself into thinking it’s affectionate.

“Hello to you too, grandad,” he says to Roy’s back. Roy grunts and heads to the kitchen, presumably to finish making dinner. 

Keeley bounds down the stairs and wraps Jamie in a hug. “Glad you’re here, babe. Now we can have a good chat.”

She leads him to the couch and hands him a fluffy pink pillow, one that Jamie remembers throwing across the room more than once. Fuck, there’s another reminder why he shouldn’t even be thinking of seeing you again. He couldn’t properly emote when he was with Keeley, so how’s he supposed to navigate a serious relationship?

“Oi, stop overthinking,” Keeley says, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“Weren’t overthinking,” Jamie replies automatically. “And since when are you a mindreader?” 

Keeley grins at that. “I’m not. Your face was just all twisty and shit, which means you’re actually using your brain for once. So come on, out with it.”

Jamie’s not entirely sure where to begin, but he opens his mouth and everything sort of comes spilling out. How he talked to you for ten seconds and is pretty sure he’ll never actually love again. And he’s convinced himself that he might have a shot but then he’s reminded of all his shitty choices and thinks he’ll never measure up but god fucking damnit, he wants something real and yeah, you’re another celebrity, but there’s something about your eyes or maybe it’s the way you move your hands, but he knows for sure that if you were just a regular girl he saw on the street, he’d feel the exact same way. 

Except neither of you are like, actually regular people, but for different reasons. And his fucking shitbag of a father is always looming in the back of his mind, especially since playing Man City the other week, and he won’t let his dad try to have any sort of hold over you because that would be shitty. So anyway, he’s pretty sure that’s everything and he’s probably going to die alone.

Keeley says, “Whoa,” with big eyes once he’s finished, and for a moment Jamie thinks she’s going to call a mental institute, but then she cocks her head and says, “Jamie, you do know that nothing’s actually happened, right? Like, you haven’t even asked her out?” and Jamie realizes that he’s been knee deep in his mind for a fucking long time.

“I mean, Roy’s no saint,” she continues while Roy shouts, “Oi!” from the kitchen, “and we still got together.”

Jamie just looks at her.

“Alright, bad example,” she says. “But hey, you’ll never know if you don’t try. I mean come on, you’re Jamie fucking Tartt! You’re like, the best footballer in all of England! And you’re right fit,” she says just loud enough for Roy to hear.

“I can’t cook for shit,” Jamie says miserably, and Roy barks out a short laugh while Keeley pats Jamie’s arm.

“You’re way too far in your fucking head, babe,” she says sympathetically. “Take it one day at a time, yeah? You don’t even know if you’ll see her again.”

table of contents

[zmijowka]

11th episode of my radio show Szumy Szepty Szelesty (Whispers, Hums & Rustles), featuring my selection of ambient, ethereal, folk, drone and other quiet, experimental music. Available to listen [here]

Tracklist:

Paulina Fae - Incoming Dreamland

metasyn - brume

Sofie Birch - Willness

Julie Bo - Sne Finale

Lyndsie Alguire - unfurling

Penelope Trappes - Possession

ногируки - мене бери

yarrow - Honey Fungus

2muchachos - are not what they seem

Zguba - Rozkwit I

Natural Snow Buildings - Cydonia

Goldmund and Hollie Kenniff - Holding Hands

Kaelin Bougneit - The Forest and the Trees

[nomacam]

Seungmin: The Heartfelt Voice of K-pop

In the kaleidoscopic world of K-pop, there shines a beacon of melodic magic, none other than Stray Kids' vocal virtuoso, Seungmin. With his celestial vocals, boundless charisma, and unwavering dedication to his craft, Seungmin has carved a special place in the hearts of fans worldwide, captivating audiences with his soul-stirring performances and heartfelt sincerity. As an ardent admirer of Seungmin, I am thrilled to pay tribute to his extraordinary talent and the profound impact he has had on the world of K-pop and the lives of fans everywhere.

From the moment he graced the stage as a trainee to his current role as an indispensable member of Stray Kids, Seungmin has enchanted audiences with his ethereal vocals and magnetic stage presence. His journey is a testament to his boundless talent, relentless work ethic, and unwavering passion for music, inspiring fans to pursue their dreams with courage and determination.

As a vocalist, Seungmin possesses a voice that transcends the realms of the ordinary, weaving tales of love, longing, and hope with each soul-stirring note. Whether he's delivering haunting ballads or electrifying anthems, Seungmin's vocals never fail to leave a lasting impression, touching the hearts of fans and earning him praise as one of the industry's most captivating vocalists.

Beyond his vocal prowess, Seungmin is also celebrated for his warm personality, genuine humility, and deep connection with fans. Through his heartfelt interactions on social media, sincere messages, and genuine appreciation for fans, he has fostered a strong sense of camaraderie and support within the fandom, creating a welcoming and inclusive community where fans feel valued, heard, and understood.

In addition to his musical talents, Seungmin is also admired for his versatility and dedication to his craft. Whether he's dazzling audiences with his dynamic dance moves, showcasing his acting skills in music videos, or honing his craft as a songwriter, Seungmin approaches each challenge with enthusiasm and determination, continually pushing the boundaries of his artistry and inspiring fans to do the same.

As a fan, Seungmin has left an indelible mark on my life, inspiring me to embrace my passions, pursue my dreams with determination, and never lose sight of my true self. His melodic magic, unwavering positivity, and genuine love for his craft serve as a constant source of inspiration and motivation, reminding me to persevere in the face of adversity and never give up on my aspirations.

In the vibrant world of K-pop, there are few artists who can capture hearts with their voice and charm quite like Seungmin. As a member of Stray Kids, Seungmin has carved out a special place for himself, not just as a talented singer and dancer, but also as a beloved personality with a heartwarming presence.

One of the first things that fans notice about Seungmin is his voice. Often described as honey-like, his vocals have a soothing quality that can instantly uplift your mood. Whether he's hitting high notes with ease or delivering emotional ballads, Seungmin's voice has a way of resonating with listeners, making them feel a deep connection to the music.

But Seungmin's talents extend far beyond his vocals. As a skilled dancer, he brings energy and precision to every performance, adding an extra layer of excitement to Stray Kids' dynamic choreography. His stage presence is undeniable, commanding attention with his charisma and natural grace.

Offstage, Seungmin is known for his warm and caring personality. Fans often describe him as the "mom" of the group, thanks to his nurturing nature and his ability to take care of others. Whether he's offering words of encouragement to his fellow members or interacting with fans, Seungmin always leaves a lasting impression with his kindness and sincerity.

Another aspect of Seungmin that fans appreciate is his versatility. Not only is he a talented singer and dancer, but he's also a skilled musician. Seungmin plays the guitar and piano, adding a personal touch to his performances and showcasing his musical prowess.

In addition to his musical talents, Seungmin is also known for his sense of humor and playful personality. He's often seen joking around with his fellow members, showing off his comedic timing and ability to lighten the mood. His infectious laughter is enough to bring a smile to anyone's face.

But perhaps what makes Seungmin truly special is his dedication to his craft and his fans. Despite his young age, he approaches his work with a level of maturity and professionalism that is truly admirable. Whether he's practicing for a performance or interacting with fans on social media, Seungmin always gives his all, showing just how much he values and appreciates the love and support of his fans.

In conclusion, Seungmin is not just a talented artist, but a shining example of kindness, humility, and passion. His voice is a beacon of warmth in the world of K-pop, and his presence is a reminder of the power of music to connect people from all walks of life. As he continues to grow and evolve as an artist, there's no doubt that Seungmin will continue to capture hearts and inspire others with his talent and spirit.

[michief-and-metal]

♾️ Forever Bound ♾️

loki x reader

Summary: a talk in the library 📚

fluff / random thoughts

contains: fluff

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

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

As you stepped into the library, your eyes scanned the room, drawn to the figure of Loki sitting amidst the shelves. The soft glow of the warm library lights illuminated his features, casting a subtle halo around his raven-black hair. Loki sat perched on a comfortable armchair, surrounded by a collection of ancient tomes and modern novels, creating an intriguing contrast that mirrored his own enigmatic nature.

“Loki”

Upon hearing your voice, Loki's gaze lifted from the pages of his book, his mischievous green eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of surprise followed by a playful smile that danced upon his lips.

In the quiet hush of the library, the scent of aged parchment and ink permeated the air, lending an atmosphere of wisdom and mystery. Rays of sunlight filtered through tall, ornate windows, casting ethereal patterns on the floor, as if inviting you into a world where imagination and reality intertwined.

Loki's presence exuded an aura of both intellectual curiosity and untamed allure. Dressed in an ensemble that blended timeless elegance with a touch of rebellion, his attire hinted at his origins as a god. The fabric of his clothing seemed to shimmer, mirroring the subtle play of light in his eyes.

As you approached Loki, you couldn't help but notice the way his fingers delicately turned the pages of the book, his touch gentle yet purposeful. The air around him seemed to crackle with a magnetic energy, drawing you closer and leaving you captivated by his every movement.

In that moment, the library became a stage upon which a hidden world unfolded, where ancient stories and mythical beings converged with the present. And there, amidst the whispers of forgotten tales, Loki awaited.

“Hello darling. I found this book. It’s about a group of demigods going on a quest to save the world”

“Sounds interesting,” you say stepping closer.

“The five demigods are the children of Greek gods. They're going on this quest to help fix a problem caused by a monster named Typhon…” He continues

As Loki began to speak, his voice, like velvet caressing the air, wove a hypnotic spell around you. Each word seemed to carry a melodic rhythm, drawing you further into its enchanting embrace. The timbre of his voice resonated with a richness and depth that echoed through the chambers of your soul.

Time seemed to stand still as you listened, completely lost in the symphony of Loki’s words. His voice possessed an otherworldly quality, evoking a myriad of emotions within you. It was as if his voice held the power to unlock hidden chambers of your heart, stirring feelings you didn’t know existed.

With each passing moment, the outside world faded away, leaving only the ethereal resonance of Loki’s voice echoing in your ears. The library’s hushed whispers and the rustling of pages merged with the cadence of his speech, creating a mesmerizing symphony that carried you to realms unknown.

“ I could listen to you talk forever.” you thought internally.

“Oh really.” Loki says lips twitching into a small smile.

Your eyes widened once realizing that part had been out loud. “Uh…Ye…yes, you have such a lovely voice”

“I’ve been told that my voice is soothing, especially when I use my powers” he says and winks to you.

“Have you ever heard music that just makes you feel something that normal music does not? Or have you heard a sound that sends a chill up your spine and leaves you with goosebumps?”

He leans a little closer and whispers in your ear, “That’s one of my powers, a form of hypnosis”. He smiles to you and looks deep into your eyes “how do you feel?”

As Loki leaned closer, his breath brushed gently against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The sensation was both exhilarating and unnerving, a delicate balance between fear and trust. His words lingered in the air, carrying the weight of his powers, as if they had taken on a life of their own.

The atmosphere seemed to shift around you, as if the very fabric of reality responded to Loki’s presence. Shadows danced along the edges of your vision, casting an aura of mystique that heightened the intensity of the moment. It was as if the world held its breath, suspended in anticipation of what would unfold between you and the god of mischief.

Though a sense of fear coursed through your veins, there was an undeniable sense of safety in Loki’s proximity.

“I…I feel scared….but also…I feel so safe.” Your voice wavered as you spoke, your vulnerability laid bare in those uncertain words.

“I will always protect you,” Loki murmured, his voice carrying a gentle strength that wrapped around you like a shield. “When someone is hypnotized, my powers make them calm, and they become much more trusting of my words. You can trust me. I would never hurt you.”

Loki’s voice, filled with sincerity and a hint of vulnerability, resonated in the intimate space between you. He spoke with a conviction that washed away any lingering doubts, his words weaving a tapestry of assurance.

As he moved closer, his hand found its place upon yours, his touch both grounding and electrifying. The warmth of his palm seemed to seep into your very being, radiating a sense of security that reached beyond the physical realm. His eyes, filled with an intensity that defied explanation, locked onto yours, drawing you into their depths.

In that profound gaze, a silent understanding passed between you, unspoken vows that resonated in the air. It was a pledge of loyalty, a promise etched with sincerity. You could feel the weight of his devotion, a dedication that surpassed the boundaries of time and space.

“I am yours,” Loki whispered, his voice barely above a breath. His lips hovering over yours. His words held a profound resonance, a declaration that bound your fates together. In those three simple words, an unbreakable bond formed, a connection forged in the crucible of shared vulnerability and trust.

“Forever?” You whisper out lost in his gaze.

“Yes, darling, forever” he says to you in a very soft voice. As Loki stared into your eyes, you felt a mix of emotions swirling within you. The intensity of his gaze seemed to penetrate your very soul, and his words resonated deeply. The library around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in a timeless moment.

“until the end of time.”

Loki's voice, now softer than ever, carried an air of sincerity that was hard to resist. It was as if he had the power to awaken a sense of trust and security within you, despite the lingering fear. His touch on your hand provided a reassuring warmth, and you couldn't help but be captivated by his presence.

In that moment, it felt as though an unbreakable bond had formed, one that transcended the boundaries of time and space. The world outside seemed distant and insignificant compared to the connection you shared with Loki. It was as if fate had conspired to bring you together, and now, in his company, you felt a sense of belonging and protection.

As you continued to gaze into his eyes, the promise of forever echoed in your mind. The weight of that commitment was both exhilarating and intimidating, but with Loki by your side, it felt like a journey worth embarking on. The uncertainty of what lay ahead was overshadowed by the unshakeable belief that Loki would be there to guide and safeguard you.

With Loki's gentle touch and unwavering gaze, you found solace in the unknown. The world around you may be filled with challenges and dangers, but with him, you felt ready to face anything. In that moment, you understood that the story of the demigods embarking on their quest to save the world was just the beginning of your own extraordinary adventure, forever intertwined with Loki's enigmatic presence.

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

First post 💚🦾 🖤 a random thought that had hit me one day and I had to write it down

hope you all love 🫶🏼

[shadowseductress]

ETHEREAL (smut)

Part-I

It's been quite a while since our paths first crossed. Despite attending the same university, we've pursued different majors, and surprisingly, we've never had the chance to cross each other's physical paths. We forged a strong online friendship, sharing photos and exchanging admiration. Our conversations spanned topics from academic pursuits to the quirkiest of interests, and we found common ground amid it all. Our bond grew stronger through shared music sessions, thanks to our similar tastes. Additionally, our mutual passion for writing further connected us, even though he expressed himself in Hindi while I favored English. As time passed, our online connection deepened. He displayed genuine concern during my difficult moments, offering comfort during cramps and nightmares, while I reciprocated by being a supportive listener as he shared his past experiences. Our exam schedules coincided, and we developed a study routine where we not only focused on our own preparation but also supported and encouraged each other throughout the process. We both possess a unique blend of assertiveness and tranquility, which occasionally led to spirited discussions between us. However, our ability to communicate effectively always helped us resolve any conflicts that arose. With time, our understanding of each other deepened, and it's at this point that an unexpected twist enters the story. It felt truly surreal, like it emerged out of thin air, catching us completely off guard. Our luck took a turn for the better during the university's cultural fest – a rare moment when our paths were destined to converge, and we were on the brink of meeting face to face for the very first time. Surprisingly, despite my introverted tendencies and his extroverted nature, the prospect of meeting him in person and attending the musical fest, which featured our beloved singer, filled me with immense excitement. I opted for an all-black ensemble, pairing a black dress with matching heels, fishnet stockings, and an open hairstyle. Completing the look, I added black boots, carried a black bag, and topped it off with a stylish black coat.We had arranged to rendezvous outside the concert venue before entering together. As I was about to meet him, my heart raced with anticipation, and my introverted tendencies suddenly felt more pronounced. Our meeting began with a handshake, but in that moment, it felt like electricity surged through my veins. Then, he held onto my hands, and his gaze traced a path from head to toe. I initiated the conversation by saying, "Thank you, thank you," as I embraced him in a warm hug, feeling the pounding of his heart against my skin. His voice is husky and throaty as he asks, "For what?" while gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I pulled back slightly, cupping his face in my hands, and said, "For being here, for being my friend, for everything." His eyes glisten before he crashes his lips to mine, growling low in his throat as he does so. He urges me to wrap my arms around him and I do so.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟖   ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜   |   THE DEN, MID MARCH 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  Leonor had attended a recital just the day before, but this performance was an entirely different experience. She was unprepared for how arresting it would be. Without knowing, she had noticed the lead singer earlier that night, ostensibly holding court by the far edge of the bar, distracting the bartender with animated conversation. Leonor hadn’t heard anything she said, but her movements were full of energy, almost frenetic. Now, she held still. The bassist swayed from hip to hip. Behind them, the drummer stared out at the audience with a face full of shadows. Leonor thought the frontwoman resembled a pious statue as she stood there, chin tilted upward and eyes closed. The crowd hummed with impatient anticipation, but what she reflected back to them was unfazed tranquility. 𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

❧ this is the unabridged version !!! it's very mild and non-raunchy, but i thought it'd be nice to fluff things up a bit with extra shots that tumblr would probably very rudely censor :^) no one's even naked, that we can see ! i thought about adding some on-knees action but then was like “there’s no way miss leonor is putting her bare skin on that dirty floor, the line is the dirty walls,” so fjdhfj some vaguely implied hand stuff instead 😌

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

The very first chord sent a chill up Leonor’s spine. She watched, rapt, as the statue came to life in a fluid series of motions. Her voice was low and rough, not ethereal by any means but still somehow, to Leonor’s ears, exquisite. The lyrics washed over her unheard. She fixated wholly on the singing itself—on the emotion of it, how the crooning turned to a harsh quaver, within it a lament that felt more defiant than mournful. It was raw. The song’s inspiration, why this woman performed it as she did, was a mystery. It was the vulnerability of it that resonated. Leonor felt the emotion in her bones as she listened. Music was never her preferred outlet but, as she experienced the song, she wished it had been.

For these three minutes, Leonor was alone again. The stage’s pit had been packed with an eager, noisy audience that responded enthusiastically to every line of the song. As it became a concert for one, they faded. Leonor’s eyes followed the movement of the singer, how her lips parted and her fingers strummed the guitar she played. They existed together in a suspended moment outside of time. It might have occurred to her later that extending, even possessing, such a moment was well within her power. For enough money, she could have anyone’s private time—especially artists, people who needed and understood patronage. It wasn't it in the spirit of the venue, but neither was her very presence, arguably. However, she was entirely in the moment as it unfolded. Feelings welled up inside of her. Her skin prickled. Her eyes, too, felt the familiar sensation attendant to being overwhelmed. 

Still, even euphoria had a blush of grief these days.

The song ended, and the bar's spirited ambience rushed back in like a sun-blocking wave. As she began speaking casually to the audience, the singer’s captivating voice changed. Whatever spell she had cast broke. Her friends remained enlivened, but Leonor felt only the desperate need to reclaim the quietude again. The minute of transition between unfamiliar songs felt like too long—too risky—of a wait. Perhaps the night had caught up with her. Or, perhaps, if she ducked into a quiet corner and collected herself, she could resume the admirable attempt at normalcy that had characterized the evening so far. That was her preferred outcome. She knew, on one level, that she was having fun. This momentary lapse wasn’t really an aberration, she feared, but she was determined to treat it as such. 

Leonor turned to Kore instinctively, leaning close to exclaim the most convenient and innocuous escape valve within reach, “Where’s the restroom?”

TRANSCRIPT:

RENZO | Okay, settle down. Next up is a treat. The Fluke girls have a new song for us. This is a songwriter’s song, alright? Conceived in this building. Show some respect.

LEONOR | Where’s the restroom? KORE | Stairs, near the bar!

[Leonor sighs, door opening]

LEONOR | What are you doing here?

LEONOR | Oh—[Laughs]—sorry. RENZO | It’s a bathroom. Maybe I gotta piss.

RENZO | Hey, don’t leave. I’m kidding. Wanted to check on you. LEONOR | Really?

RENZO | Sort of. I also had an ulterior motive. LEONOR | Did you?

RENZO | I wanted to be alone with you again, too. LEONOR | You’re in luck.

RENZO | You know, you do look different in person. More real. LEONOR | I get that a lot. RENZO | Do you? Huh— LEONOR | [Snickers] No, of course not!

RENZO | So, what do you think— LEONOR | No more talking now, okay?

RENZO | I’ll show you the dressing rooms next time. LEONOR | Next time? [Chuckles]

[bts-0t-7]

Tapestry of Notes

Pair: Yoongi x F Reader

Summary: You found love and solace in the presence of Min Yoongi. Through shared moments of quiet intimacy and the language of music, you found a love that transcends words - creating a symphony of melodic emotions and a string of uncut notes.

Genre: Fluff, Idolxreader, soft smut

Chapter Warnings: None

WC: 620

The soft glow of the moonlight shines through the room, bathing it in its ethereal presence. You sat beside Yoongi, his presence alone is able to soothe your restless, pounding heart, grounding you in the moment.

As you listened to the melody of Yoongi’s fingers, dancing nimbly across the piano keys, you felt the growth of a profound connection with him. The music flowed effortlessly in the room, dragging out the deepest edges of his soul. The song portrays unspoken emotions and words as if explaining the complexity of his heart through the notes.

In the stillness of the moment, you reached out, hands brushing his, a silent gesture of understanding and encouragement. Yoongi’s gaze met yours, his dark, soulful eyes spoke of the depth of his vulnerability and strength. It was a language of its own - one without words.

Without breaking eye contact, Yoongi’s fingers continued to weave their magic on the piano keys. As the melody grew, it filled the room with an orchestra of emotions - a dance between two intertwined souls, a connection deeper than words can describe. It was a conversation entwined with a sacred, shared type of intimacy.

As the last words faded into the silence, Yoongi turned to face you fully. His hands reached out, fingertips tracing your jawline. His touch was electric, sending a wave of shivers down your spine.

His voice was soft, thickly laced with emotions as he spoke. “Expressing myself with words is always tough. But with music, I can pour out everything. And you… You can understand what it brings, don’t you?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest and a little light in the head. Words were unnecessary at that moment. It was as if music weaved a thread between your souls - he was the beats and you were the notes - creating a language only the both of you understand. A language of whispered understanding and love.

You were unsure who leaned first, but your lips brushed each other in a delicate kiss. It was gentle, a caress that spoke volumes - leaving you craving for more. At that moment, you felt a symphony of emotions - a mixture of tenderness, love, hope, desire, and a longing urge for connection.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of passion building between you. Yoongi’s hands cradled your body, his touch was both tender and possessive. It was a dance of desire and vulnerability, a melody played only by two hearts longing for each other’s embrace.

Lost in the euphony of your connection, the world around you faded away. Time seemed to be at a standstill in the place where only the both of you existed - an intimate sanctuary. It was in Yoongi’s arms that the warmest embrace lies, warmer than the fire heating up the room on a winter night. It protects you from the harsh chaos of the outside world.

The night continued in a symphony of whispered words, soft touches and shared moments of vulnerability. The language of music intertwined with the language of love - the tapestry of notes strummed, resonating deep within your souls.

As the moonlight drew higher in the night sky, you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, savouring the afterglow of your love. The room was filled with quiet serenity, a sanctuary where your souls beat in perfect harmony.

It was then, in the warm cocoon of Yoongi’s arms, that you discovered a love that transcends above words - a love that found its expression in music, explaining its unspoken desires and emotions. And in that very moment of intimacy, you knew that your connection with Yoongi will continue to weave beautiful symphonies of love, understanding, hope, and passion on the longest string yet.