#this is so bad

[jellywinkle]

What if i join u instead 🙀🙀

can you watch me while i smoke

[theoutcastrogue]

The Internet Archive needs your help.

A coalition of major record labels has filed a lawsuit against the Internet Archive—demanding $700 million for our work preserving and providing access to historical 78rpm records. These fragile, obsolete discs hold some of the earliest recordings of a vanishing American culture. But this lawsuit goes far beyond old records. It’s an attack on the Internet Archive itself.

This lawsuit is an existential threat to the Internet Archive and everything we preserve—including the Wayback Machine, a cornerstone of memory and preservation on the internet.

At a time when digital information is disappearing, being rewritten, or erased entirely, the tools to preserve history must be defended—not dismantled.

This isn’t just about music. It’s about whether future generations will have access to knowledge, history, and culture.

Sign our open letter and tell the record labels to drop their lawsuit. 

[mocking-the-bird]

Dick is no bark no bite dog

Jason is all bark no bite dog

Tim is no bark all bite dog

Damian is all bark all bite dog

[sir3nsfi1m]

hidden chemistry / paige bueckers

You were nothing if not an honor roll student, rarely skipping classes, head buried between the earthy scented pages of those hefty textbooks, the letters mixing and merging as your eyes would caress the words, blinking harshly as if to unscramble the jumble the mixture.

You weren’t one to be noticed. Forgotten in the back of classrooms, huddled in the dark corner of the hushed library, entangled in the sheets of your familiar bed. You were enclosed in the comfort of your own little corner of the world.

It’s not like you wanted to enclose yourself, cut yourself off with the world. You just didn’t want the technicalities that was arranging a time everyday to devote yourself to every person that you care about. You weren’t rude, you were busy. Stuck between the pages of overfull textbooks with tiny scribbles in the margins, flash cards that you read so many times it almost burned a hole in your irises. You were creating history. Developing new systems everyday to answer the hardest questions the medical field can never seem to answer. Prosthetics, medical imagining systems, bioinstrumentation.

You had no time for anyone else. Not that anyone would devote any of their time to you anyways, from how unavailable you presented yourself, you would be surprised if anyone even dared a glance at you.

But then again, when you aren’t tearing your eyes from those damned pages, you will never see who’s looking your way.

Those bright blue eyes, those furrowed brows, like she’s cutting into you so deep she’s discovering a new meaning to the way you exist. The way you close yourself off, the way you barely glance up as people walk so close to you they brush against the fabric of your fleece hoodie you’ve always got one, whether hot or cold.

She hadn’t meant to notice you. Hadn’t meant to keep drifting towards you as she caressed the dust-covered shelves of the unfamiliar hushed library she barely frequented just a couple months ago.

She was light. Spotlight in the middle of the court, drawing eyes to her even thousands of miles away through electrical devices. Conversations with her name whispered across lips, statistics and pregame interviews, articles and post-game reports. People follow her, no matter where she goes.

She reveled in the spotlight, mostly. As much as she could before her palms got sweaty and her head started to shake with the pressure of millions of eyes dawning on her. She claimed her spot within her life a while ago, but after a while, it became more than just her playing the sport she loves.

It became making a whole new persona. Media training, basically telling her to hold back her emotions no matter how deep they cut wounds into her. Already drawn up answers to the repeated questions she’s asked everyday just rewritten in ways she couldn’t even understand. Criticism she has to roll off her shoulders because she’s stronger than to let someone undermine her life’s work all because she had one shitty game.

It was cliche maybe, but sitting here in the opposite side of the quiet library, a book she knew nothing about laying open to a random page as she snuck glances at you, she felt different. Like she wasn’t being seen for once. Like she had the pleasure of seeing someone else. Not her name lit up on a scoreboard, not her face plastered over the walls.

She didn’t make it creepy, of course. She never took photos, she never stared for elongated periods of time. She was gentle, as if one wrong move and you would disappear from her sights.

She didn’t know what it was about you that just drew her in. Maybe it was the mystery? The not knowing of who you are, what your name is, if you even go to school there. Maybe it was the quiet, like she was looking at a painting among a gallery that just sat out amongst the others.

Some days, she wondered what would happen if she walked up to you and asked you what your name was. Other days, she didn’t even bother showing up to the library because she knew her nerves would never let her unstick her feet from the padded carpet over to your corner.

Some days, she felt stupid pining over a girl who probably didn’t even know she existed.

Ever oblivious, you would show up at the quiet library at approximately 8:30 am almost every day if you could, other days you would camp out in your dorm, your roommates clearing out for morning classes and friend gatherings.

You prided yourself in your work, in the way that you wouldn’t let distractions tear you from your creations, how you stuck with a plan and never once backed down no matter how hard it got.

However, sometimes, you wondered what it would be like to have someone look at you and tell you they were proud of you. Or maybe even just look at you.

You would internally scoff at the pda plastered over love-stricken college kids as you walked past them, you would cringe at the corny Instagram captions with the photos of entangled lips and promises of forever.

But sometimes, you wondered what it would be like.

What it would feel like to have someone look at you. To have someone sit and listen to you drone on and on about biomedical engineering and engineering principles. To have someone see you for more than your work. To have someone say they want to be with you forever.

You were too much to handle for yourself, however, so how you someone else handle you?

Your eyes lock.

It was accidental. The first time you had looked up for your lecture that day. The second she had looked over to you just to get one last look before she decided she felt like she was being creepy and was going to put down her book (the biography of someone?) and head back to her dorm.

But your eyes locked.

Your eyes were quiet, like your aura. Like everything she had seen when she looked at you. Tranquility, silence, peace. Your eyes resembled your soul, shining brighter than any court had in the past 20 years.

Paige thought she was doomed.

Not because you had seen her, but because she never wanted to look away. She wanted to know you, wanted to see you, wanted to talk to you and never shut up.

And as if you had spoke it into the universe, someone was looking at you. Not at the wall behind you, not at the edge of the table, not at the girl giggling with her friends in the corner.

At you.

That hidden chemistry, that fading spark lingering between two souls on either side of that library, finally unraveling in a swirl of emotions.

[remedyspoison]

I think I'm hilarious

[luvrrszn]

friends, right?

RAFE CAMERON x FEM READER

summary being rafe's best friend is already pretty darn good—but it's not enough

warnings angst, fluff, mentions of ward..., not proofread

a/n bruhhh the rafe obsession is real rn...

masterlist

being rafe's best friend had it's perks.

his undivided attention, sharing his kook privileges, and front-row seats to whatever questionable life choices he made (free entertainment 24/7 basically).

it also had it's downsides, being that you were just that. his best friend.

—

you were the camerons' neighbour. you'd lived next to them on figure eight for years, and you'd grown up alongside sarah. being best friends with her meant that you spent most of your time at her house, and that led to you and rafe developing a friendship.

almost everyone thought that you and rafe were dating, especially since neither of you bothered to correct them. however, nothing ever lessened the sting of the harsh reminders that you two were, in fact, not an item.

when sarah started hanging out with john b and the pogues, she didn't leave you behind. you became friends with everyone else too, much to rafe's initial dismay. he eventually came around when it became clear that both you and sarah were not going to stop hanging out with the pogues just because rafe "didn't like it".

so it became routine. almost every day, rafe would come to pick you and sarah up from the cut.

—

it was a day like any other. after hanging out at the chateau, everyone went their separate ways. you and sarah were waiting at the dock for rafe when you saw a familiar boat come into view.

rafe came into view, shirtless. his body was toned, sweat dripping down the side of his forehead. his hair was in a short buzz again, a haircut you'd teased him about multiple times.

you were about to say hello when you noticed a girl in the boat, wearing the tiniest red bikini.

sarah gets onto the boat first, throwing her bag onto a seat as she says, "hey. what's going on?"

"beach day. we're heading home now." rafe replies, offering you the usual hand as you step into the boat.

the girl has an unpleasant expression, as if rotten fish had been dragged on board. barely sparing in your direction, she stands up and wraps her arms around rafe's waist, resting her head against his back as he turns the boat around.

the whole ride back to figure eight, you're left wondering what she has that you don't.

—

and it wasn't like you were delusional either.

rafe had definitely been dropping hints, and giving you signals. there'd be some days where you were cooking for you and sarah in their house, and he'd walk up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, burying his face in your hair.

there'd even be some days where you'd all be watching a movie in the camerons' home theater, and rafe would cuddle up next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

—

about a week later, you're at sarah's house again. feeling thirsty, you decide to go downstairs to grab a drink of water. you walk past rafe's room and you hear topper saying, "dude, what happened to that chick? the girl you were with last week?"

you couldn't help but stop to eavesdrop.

"dude she was so fucking clingy, i had to get rid of her ass." you heard rafe chuckle.

"bullshit. you just don't want anyone who isn't" topper continues. when you hear him end the sentence with your name, your heart skips a beat. your curiosity is peaked, wondering what rafe will say in response.

"nah. she's too much of a pogue to be anything. plus, she's my best friend."

your heart drops. too much of a pogue?

you thought rafe wasn't bothered by your friends, not anymore.

you go downstairs and walk straight out of the front door, without so much as a word to anyone.

—

sarah has called you, multiple times. you finally pick up and make an excuse about feeling unwell, and that you're sorry for leaving so abruptly.

you'd just stepped out of the shower, trying to scrub off the feeling that lingered on your skin after finding out what rafe truly felt, when your phone buzzed with a text from rafe.

beefy: hey bug, sarah said you left without staying for dinner cause you weren't feeling well but i know you're bullshitting. you were literally fine, i heard you laughing from sarah's room. what's up?

you: i'm fine

beefy: don't lie to me

you: ofc you'd say that

frustrated, you throw your phone onto your bed and ignore the dozen texts from rafe for the rest of the night.

—

for the rest of the week, you ignore rafe. you don't say hi when you go over to his house, you don't say hi at the country club, and you don't text him, not even once.

you walk straight past him at parties, without so much as a glance in his direction.

but he figures he'll leave you alone for a while, just while he figures out what he's done so he can properly apologise.

he realises he's out of time when he sees you dancing with some guy who has his hand resting on your waist.

he storms over, and throws you over his shoulder, walking towards the front door as people around him move out of the way.

"rafe, what the fuck are you doing? put me down!" you whisper angrily, hitting your fists against his back. he doesn't say a word, and only sets you down on the pavement outside the massive mansion the party was in.

you recognise the look in his eyes, the anger. but it was never ever directed at you. except today.

"what the fuck were you doing in there?" he grits out.

"dancing, rafe, mygosh. and i was having fun too!" you groan, exasperated. it had been your pathetic attempt to move on.

"dancing like that? in front of all our friends?"

"not my friends rafe. your friends. my friends are the pogues, which i guess makes me too much of a pogue for you, huh." you don't notice when tears start to roll down your face.

it makes him go pale.

he made his sweet girl cry.

he uses his thumb to wipe away your tears as he says

"look, i didn’t mean it the way it came out. i was just frustrated because you’re always hanging out with the pogues, and it’s been bugging me. i was angry and said something stupid—because the idea of you getting closer to them, it just... it didn't sit right with me. i like you, a lot. more than best friends like each other. i was worried that you spending so much time with the pogues meant you'd develop feelings for one of them, and i was an idiot. i was a jealous prick, and i said something i didn't mean. i'm sorry, bug."

"rafe, you're a fucking idiot." you grumble as you bury your face in his chest while he wraps you in a tight hug. a hug so tight, as if rafe thought you'd slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough.

—

the next morning, sarah catches you slipping out of rafe's room. she chuckles, and says, "took you two idiots long enough."

[worm-on-my-way]

that's how the circus gothica episode went right?

(original img under cut ^^)

[havens-iphone]

── looping footage ꫂৎ ; commission for @pearlverse

wc ⋮ 2k

authors note ⋮ this is actually my first time writing smut so it kinds sucks..😭 anyway, thank you so much for comissioning me baby!! i really hope you like this, it was so fun writing this for u🤍

it all started 5 months ago, when you were the first person hired as hamzah and martins editor for slushy noobz.

now, its past midnight, and the studios quiet except for the soft whir of the pcs and the occasional click of your mouse. the latest video loops on one of the screens, your half-empty coffee long gone cold. hamzahs next to you, leaning in as he watches the timeline on your monitor, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him—too close for this late, too close for how tired you both are.

he says something about the pacing, but you barely hear it. theres a pause, a flicker of something in the way he looks at you, and suddenly the air between you feels heavier than it should.

you sigh as you take a sip of the coldened coffee, eyes straining from the luminescence off of the computer in the dark light. "hey hamzah," your lip twitches, "does the editing for this look okay?" you glance over at him, waiting for his opinion.

his lips twitch in a smile before he replies, "yeah, looks perfect" you sit back in your office chair as hamzahs eyes follow your figure, biting his lip and containing himself from saying something out of pocket.

"you done with it?" he questions. "yeah, atleast for right now" you giggle, spinning over to face him. he grabs his phone and dials numbers, pulling it up to his ear. your face contorts into a confused expression, wanting to know what exactly hes doing.

you hear him ordering food and you light up, you werent gonna say anything but you were starving.

he hangs up and tosses the phone on the desk like its nothing, like he didnt just do the one thing that made your whole night.

“figured you'd be hungry,” he says casually, stretching his arms above his head, shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of skin. your eyes flick down for half a second too long, and you look away quickly, pretending to fiddle with your hoodie strings.

“i was,” you mumble, trying not to smile. “good guess.”

“wasnt a guess,” he grins. “you get this look when youre starving. kind of a mix between murder and sleep-deprivation.”

you snort. “hot.”

“we all have our moments.”

he says it with that low, amused tone that always makes your stomach twist just a little.

the silence settles again, comfortable, but charged. the kind of silence where everything unsaid feels louder than the room itself.

your screen dims as the computer goes idle, and you dont move to wake it up. instead, you glance at him again, the edges of your nerves starting to tingle now that work isnt there to fill the space.

“were gonna crash at this rate,” you murmur, voice softer.

“yeah,” he replies, but doesnt make a move to leave either.

a beat.

“you know…” he says slowly, his voice dropping just a little lower, “working late with you has kinda become my favourite part of the job.”

your heart skips. you open your mouth, unsure what to say—

but then theres a knock at the door.

“foods here,” he says, standing, but his gaze lingers on you just a second longer than it should.

and just like that, the moment folds itself up—tucked away. you gulp at the situation.

hamzah opens the studio door, the warm scent of takeout drifting in immediately—spicy, savory, and somehow comforting in the middle of the night. you peek over the back of your chair as he walks in with the bag, his hair slightly messy from running a hand through it too many times.

“hope youre cool with thai,” he says, setting the bag down on the cluttered side table.

“i'd eat cardboard at this point,” you grin, standing to join him. “but yeah, thai’s perfect.”

he pulls out containers like hes done this a thousand times—yours without needing to ask, which you definitely notice. he hands it over, and your fingers brush as you take it. small, fleeting, but enough to make you glance up at him. hes already looking at you.

“youve got editor hands,” he teases as he grabs his own food, flopping back into his seat.

you raise a brow, amused. “what does that even mean?”

“just… i dont know. they’re always moving. typing. scrubbing through timelines. kind of nice to watch.”

you pause with your fork mid-air, heart doing a tiny flip. “are you watching my hands, hamzah?”

he smirks, eyes not leaving yours. “sometimes.”

you try not to blush, digging into your food like you didnt just short-circuit a little. “weirdo,” you mutter, but youre smiling.

you both eat in relative quiet for a few minutes, the sounds of the city faint through the studios cracked window. its peaceful. easy. but the way he keeps stealing glances your way—how his knee brushes yours under the table and doesnt move—makes it feel like somethings shifting.

he nudges a container of spring rolls toward you. “you never order these but you always steal mine.”

“thanks,” you say, taking one without hesitation. “youre learning.”

“im observant,” he shrugs. then adds, a little softer, “especially when it comes to you.”

you dont say anything for a second, chewing slower, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

it lingers there—just a breath too long.

you look down at the spring roll in your hand like it suddenly became the most interesting thing in the room.

“you always say stuff like that so casually,” you mumble.

“like what?”

“like youre not trying to mess with my head.”

he chuckles low under his breath, and you hear him shift in his seat, the creak of the studio chair sounding louder in the quiet.

“maybe im not messing with you. maybe i mean it.”

your heart beats a little too fast for someone who’s just sitting here eating takeout. you glance at him, trying to read between the lines—hes lounging back in his chair now, chopsticks in hand, food mostly ignored. his eyes are on you, steady, like hes waiting to see what you’ll do next.

“you flirt like its part of your job description,” you tease, trying to keep the mood light, even though the room feels warmer now.

“its not,” he says, and there’s a beat of silence before he adds, “but if it was, i’d say im pretty damn good at it.”

you roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away.

“cocky much?”

“confident,” he corrects. “youre still sitting here, arent you?”

and you are.

half-finished food in front of you, body angled just slightly toward him, like gravitys pulling you that way without permission. the windows open a crack and lets in the faint noise of the street, but it only makes the studio feel more like a bubble—just the two of you and the low flicker of light from the monitors.

“so,” he starts again, like he’s feeling out the edge of a line, “what happens when the next 2 video’s are finished? when were not pulling all-nighters like this anymore?”

you blink at him. “we’ll… sleep? like normal people?”

he laughs, but theres something quieter under it. “yeah. i guess i mean… you wont need to be here as late. wont have a reason to stay.”

you tilt your head, watching him. “is that gonna be a problem for you?”

he shrugs, but his voice is softer when he replies.

“maybe.”

and again, the air stills—something hanging there, unspoken but undeniably present. the kind of thing you both keep circling, neither of you quite ready to break it. not yet.

your container’s long forgotten now, food pushed to the side as you shift slightly in your chair, the weight of his words lingering heavier than you’d like to admit.

“maybe,” he’d said. just that. but it loops in your head like the edit on screen earlier, over and over. it’s not what he said—it’s how he looked at you when he said it.

you let the quiet settle again, letting the hum of the studio, the faint city sounds outside, and the rhythm of your own breath fill the space. but he doesn’t look away. neither do you.

“you don’t want me to stop staying late,” you murmur, tone somewhere between teasing and testing.

his gaze flickers, darkening just a touch.

“i’m not subtle, am i?”

“not even a little.”

he leans forward now, elbows on his knees, the gap between your chairs closing just enough to make your pulse quicken.

“you never call me out on it, though.”

“doesn’t mean i don’t notice.”

your voice comes out a little lower than you mean it to, and he notices. of course he does.

he leans in just a little more, enough that you feel the warmth of him again—familiar now, but this time it isn’t a casual lean. it’s deliberate.

“then why don’t you stop me?” he asks.

your breath catches. he’s close enough that you can see every detail in his eyes, the tension curling between you like the tail end of an electric wire.

“maybe i don’t want to.”

you’re not sure who moves first, if it’s you or him or just gravity finally giving in—but suddenly his hand brushes your knee, fingers light like he’s waiting for you to pull away. you don’t. instead, your own hand shifts, resting beside his on your thigh, your pinky grazing his knuckle.

his jaw tenses, eyes flicking to your mouth, then back to your eyes like he’s searching for permission.

“we probably shouldn’t,” he says, voice low, rougher now.

“we probably shouldn’t,” you echo, not moving an inch.

but you both stay there, not pulling away—your legs barely touching now, his fingers twitching against your skin like he’s fighting the urge to really touch you.

“this is a really bad idea,” he mutters, but he’s already leaning closer.

your lips are barely apart, breath mingling, heat building, everything suspended in that split second before a fall—when you know crossing the line is inevitable, and you’ve both already stepped over it.

in a hurry, you straddle his lap as if a magnet were dragging you. he continues messily kissing you as you subtly start grinding on him.

he groans into your mouth and you realize your moving on him.

"fuck- yes, keep going.." your jaw slacks as he begs for you to continue. you do as he orders, continuing to grind but instead grinding harder.

"cant handle this anymore.." he grunts as he grabs your neck and pins you down to the couch, ripping off your shorts and leaving your soaked panties on.

his hand lingers at your throat—not tight, just enough to hold you there, make you feel the weight of him, the way he’s fully in control. your breath comes fast as you meet his eyes, dark and unreadable, hovering over you with a look that makes your whole body tense in anticipation.

“so wet for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with heat, and your hips shift without thinking, chasing any kind of contact.

you whimper when his thumb brushes just beneath your jaw, slow and almost tender despite the intensity in his grip. “you’ve been teasing me all night,” he says, leaning in so his lips graze your ear, “you knew exactly what you were doing.”

you open your mouth to argue—something sharp, something sarcastic—but it dies on your tongue when he presses his hips down, grinding against you through the thin fabric still clinging to your skin.

your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut, a soft, needy sound escaping your lips before you can catch it.

“fuck,” he growls, lips ghosting over your collarbone now. “don’t make that sound unless you want me to lose it.”

his hand trails down your stomach, fingers slow and teasing. you arch into him, barely able to stay still.

“tell me to stop,” he murmurs, but his hand never stills.

you look up at him, breathless. “don’t you dare.”

he lets out a low laugh, dark and rough, and you feel him smile against your neck. “that’s what i thought.”

and then everything melts into heat—his mouth on yours again, your hands in his hair, and the slow, aching pull of tension finally snapping loose between you. the couch creaks beneath you both, the room warm with the buzz of computers and soft, ragged breathing.

he rips his own pants off in neediness, immediately slamming into you. you moan as he stretches you out, nails clawing at his back

he groans in pain and pleasure, his hand tightening around your neck

"there we go my baby, so good for me" he praises as you whimper with need, back arching off the couch

"f-faster hamzah.." stuttering and moaning, you feel yourself getting closer to your climax.

he feels you tighten around him and a cocky grin finds its way onto his mouth. he speeds up, loosening the grip on your neck.

"feel good?" you gasp for air, unable to speak

"needy slut, fucked you so good you cant speak hm?" you whine and whimper as your body convulses, releasing at his words.

he smirks, knowing he fucked you good. he continues, wanting to reach his own high.

"t-too muchh.." you cry out, but your cries go unheard by him as thrusts harder into you. within seconds your womb is painted white as he pants like a dog

he sighs, caressing your cheek as he pulls out. "you good baby?"

you nod, still catching your breath, your body warm and buzzing, the weight of everything that just happened settling around you like a heavy, quiet blanket. the studio’s dim, the soft hum of the computers still playing in the background, but everything feels slower now—softer.

hamzah’s hand brushes against your cheek again, more gentle this time. his thumb lingers just under your eye as he leans in to kiss you—slow, unhurried, not hungry like before. just… sweet.

you melt into it, eyes fluttering shut, and it feels like he’s trying to tell you something he doesn’t quite have the words for yet.

“was i too rough?” he murmurs against your lips, brows pulling together the tiniest bit as he pulls back to look at you, scanning your face like he needs to see that you’re okay.

you shake your head, smiling, eyes soft. “no. it was perfect.”

he exhales, relief flickering across his face as he wraps his arms around you, tugging you gently onto his chest. the couch creaks under the weight of both your bodies as you curl into him, your bare legs tangled with his. his hand rubs slow circles along your back, grounding you, and your head rests just beneath his chin.

“i can’t believe we actually…” you trail off, laughing quietly, face buried in the crook of his neck.

“yeah,” he says, voice low, his fingers carding through your hair. “me either. but i’ve wanted to for so long.”

you tilt your head to look up at him. “really?”

he nods, pressing his lips to your forehead. “every late night. every dumb excuse to keep you here. i wasn’t just trying to make small talk, y’know?”

you grin, your fingers tracing patterns on his bare chest. “you mean all those times you made me stay late editing were part of your master plan to seduce me?”

he chuckles, eyes crinkling. “not at first. but then i realized i kinda never wanted you to leave.”

your heart squeezes in your chest, and you press another soft kiss to his collarbone, letting the quiet stretch again. this time, it’s not charged or tense—it’s safe. warm.

“what happens now?” you ask softly, fingers still moving.

he shifts just enough to look you in the eye, his expression suddenly serious—but not in a scary way. just honest.

“now,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “you let me take you on a real date. and after that, i’ll keep finding reasons to stay up too late with you. except maybe next time, i’ll actually bring a blanket.”

you laugh, your nose scrunching up, and he pulls you closer, like he never wants to let you go.

and maybe—just maybe—you don’t want him to, either.

[theymightbeclerics]

the rink o mania fight if they were chavvy british teenagers:

“I wasn’t being a wanker!”

“Like fuck you weren’t, you were giving us boggy looks, you were being aggy, you didn’t bang on like you usually do, you literally cocked up the whole day.”

“What she was telling you was complete bollocks Mike, straight to your dumb mug ever since we got here and I’ve been trailing after you and your missus all day it’s been miserable, so sorry if i wasn’t chuffed.”

“Fuck off”

“Well, what about us?”

“Wot?”

“What you’re fuming that i didn’t talk to you? Seems like you made it properly clear you’re not keen to hear anything i have to go on about.”

“That’s rubbish!”

“You rang me maybe a couple times, It’s been fucking ages Mike, meanwhile El has like a book of snaps from you”

“Thats because I’m her fella, Will.”

“And us?”

“We’re mates! We’re mates!”

“Well we used to be best mates!”

[statesyde]

who wouldn't want to date abby?

i mean, she's all muscle, years worth of training on display on her arms like a trophy worth bragging about. she'd use those biceps to her advantage, pulling you onto her lap when she gets the chance, and maybe trap you in while both of you are snug against eachother and hope that you'd manage to escape her embrace when you needed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, or when it's just necessary for you to.

this brute of a woman some would look at for the first time and think of her as intimidating for their first impression— is actually the softest sweetheart once you get to know her better. you are her girlfriend, she'd do anything for you to be happy.

she's got an austere nature, sure, but that doesn't stop her from getting all soft for you, her hands usually used in combat would roam all over your body, hold your face in calloused palms while she kisses you delicately.

or—

with strength like that, she could flip you over, manhandle you to the perfect position while she fucks you stupid.

your cheek smushed against the mattress, a pillow placed beneath your hips as she pounds into you like she's been deprived of fucking into your poor cunt, you regret not suggesting a towel to her, leaving you to the consequence of your pillow soaked in substance.

"abby, abby—" you were chanting her name like a mantra, which did nothing but to egg her on, her pelvis meeting your ass with each thrust.

"yeah?" she breathes out, though she still keeps up with faux sympathy in her tone. "too much?"

you hastily nodded in response, hiding your sweat-clad face into the sheets. your entire body was sore. but you had to keep up with the woman behind you, not like she isn't tired as you are.

when she's finally done with you; of course she wouldn't leave you there all by yourself covered in sweat with your limbs trembling, she'd never be like that.

she gives you some time to breathe, making sure you have enough energy to move around for a little shower, just to clean the grime off of yourselves while the heat of the water also provides relief.

she'd even dry you up after that, your brain starting to shut itself down while you're getting drowsy in her arms, her voice nothing but an echo in your ears.

once she sat you down onto the bed to find you some clothes, you plopped down onto it, still clad in a towel, though your eyelids were getting heavy.

before you, or she even knew it, you had fallen asleep, soundly. she couldn't believe it. guess this means the cleaning is on her. but despite her waiting responsibility, she couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, as if she wouldn't pass out in the process of washing your little pillow.

[cry-ptidd]

Most pathetic man ever experiences one positive experience in bed

[trickstersmagic]

You heard him 🗣️

[billericious]

collateral | b.e

The last time you had seen Billie was 6 months ago, the tone it had been left on was sour, an argument if she was as committed to the relationship as you were. Half of a year since then, and you were still looking for answers. Did she miss you as much as you missed her? No, you don’t miss her. You can’t miss her. But when you're alone in your bed on a cold winter night, you let your mind drift off to imagine her warmth surrounding you, holding you just as she used to. You miss her in the quiet moments of life.

You look over to your nightstand, the clock reading 3:26 AM. deciding sleep is a lost cause, you pick up your phone and scroll mindlessly, trying to distract yourself from the ache in your heart. As if the algorithm was laughing at you, an ad of billie promoting her upcoming project pops up. She talks and smiles, telling whoever would be watching how excited she is for everyone to hear her art. You search her eyes, a sign that she could even be remotely sad without you. Maybe it’s the fact that the video is prerecorded, or maybe she doesn’t feel your absence at all that makes you find nothing.

You can't stop your mind from going back to that fateful night.

“So what, you just want to end this?” she stands with you, toe to toe and tears glossing over her blue eyes. “Billie, you’re not even hearing me, just hearing what you want to hear!” tears fill your own eyes, blurring your vision. The argument escalated quickly, emotions that had been brewing in you for months finally spilling out at an alarming rate.

You continue, “I just feel used, okay? We’ve been going out for a year without even being together officially. I understand that you’re busy, that the situation isn’t as simple as it seems, but fuck billie. You’ve had time, and I've had enough.” the girl in front of you falls silent, her mouth slightly ajar as she tries to collect her thoughts. The tension only grows as she stays quiet. “So that’s it then? You have nothing to say?” Billie picks up her jaw and rolls her eyes.

“I want you, truly. It's just tha-” you cut her off with a sarcastic laugh, tears rolling down your cheeks. “There's always an excuse, bil! I’m just never enough for you, never enough to just be yours.” eye contact breaks as you look down to the floor, quiet sobs escaping your mouth. Billie is quick to step forward and pull you close. Too tired to fight back, you melt into her arms.

“I’m sorry, baby. I am.” she whispers into your hair, “i just…can’t” you look up at her, eyes red and puffy. “You can’t? Can’t do what you're doing right now?” you push her off of you, anger over taking once again. “Don’t make it sound like that, y/n. You know it’s more than that”

“A year billie! And for what? For you to just use me, use my love, my time, my body?” Billie's eyebrows scrunch at your words. “I would never use you, I love you, you know that.” she begins to defend herself. “Then what are you doing?” your ears feel warm and your stomach is churning. You already know where this is going, despite your best efforts.

You look at each other, a desperation in both of your eyes, a hunger.

“I don’t know.” she whispers.

“Leave, now.” you respond.

“y/n, don’t do this. Please, please don’t do this” she begs you, pleading. “No billie, I can't keep doing this.” Billie's tears finally falling down her rosy cheeks, a look of acceptance settles onto her face.

“Okay.”

You watch her grab her keys and walk towards the door. She looks back at you one final time, hoping you would change your mind. Crossing your arms, you stand firmly, despite feeling anything but confident.

You sit on the edge of your bed, holding your knees to your chest. Cries rake through your body, the memory being all too much. A ding from your phone makes you look up, rubbing the tears from your eyes as you pick up the device. It feels like the world stops spinning as you read the notification.

Billie

hey

pt 2

maze speaks !

this is so ass </3 so sorry :p first fic tho! just hoping i get better as time goes on (part two probs)

[storieswithvenus]

beach days // JJ Maybank x fem reader

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴

hi!!! i hope everyone is doing well. i’m so sorry for not posting in like ages lmao. writers block is actually kicking my ass for the last few weeks so i’ve literally just wrote this to try and get something out. if it’s bad, im sorry!!!

ALSO!!! thank you for 100 followers!!! your support is super appreciated and i love every single one of you!!!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

the sun was glowing over the kildare county. the last few days had been the hottest ones of the season so far, and from what weather predictions had been reporting, it was only meant to be getting hotter.

you, sarah and kiara were all laying on your towels, the sand being too hot to lay on like yous usually did. the three of you laying there with your bikinis on, sunglasses covering your eyes and soaking up the sun. you enjoyed this time with your girls, you got some peace and quiet from the complete chaos the boys brought.

“BABE! look at this really cool trick me and JB can do,” the sound of your boyfriends voice attracting your attention. sitting up, along with sarah to watch what your two boyfriends could possibly be doing.

“this really isn’t going to go well, is it?” sarah whispered over to you, both of you staring intently at the two boys trying to do a backflip trick. you look over to her slightly, giggling at what she said, “this definitely is not going to go well. either one or both of them gets hurt.” you reply, your voice full of love as you turn your head back to the two boys.

“20 bucks it’ll be JJ who gets hurt”, kiara speaks up from the other side of you, she sits up to watch the boys. you and sarah let out a quiet laugh at kiaras comment, watching as the two of them get into position to try the trick again.

the two boys were standing with their backs together, walking away from each other a few feet, just to start doing back flips towards each other. what they didn’t realise however, was the fact that they were backflipping right into each other. so when they both collided and flipped over each other, you weren’t surprised to hear a few groans and moans from the boys.

kiaras laugh pierced the air, you and sarah looking over to her just to see her wiping her eyes to remove the tears in her eyes, her chest heaving up and down as she tried to regain her breath as she continued laughing. you couldn’t help but look back over to the boys, who were still laying in the wet sand, groaning as the tide covered their bodies with salt water, and laugh. quiet frankly, nearly peeing yourself from how much you were laughing at the site. you and kiara laughing as pope and cleo ran over to the two and started helping them up.

“baby the fact you are laughing really doesn’t make me feel any better”, JJ collapses infront of you, laying his head on your lap and you catch your breath. looking down at the blue eyes staring up at you, “sorry jay, but you you two idiots should’ve known what was gonna happen”.

JJ flicks your thigh as a way of telling you off, still looking up at you, a massive smile on his face watching his girl laugh at something stupid he did. you looked like an angel to him, from where he was laying on your lap, you had the sun shining bright behind you, thus leaving a heavenly glow behind you.

“why are you staring at me, baby?” your voice grabs his attention again. “cause you’re so beautiful” you blush at his words, leaning down to give him a slight kiss.

“you guys make me sick,” kiara says watching the two of you, a sarcastic tone on her voice. you and JJ start to giggle looking back at each other.

your fingers run through your boyfriends hair, watching everyone talk and laugh with each other. your boyfriend laying on your lap sleeping, his chest rising and lowering as he takes a breath.

“i love you”, you looked down to your boyfriend, his eyes open slightly looking up at you. leaning down to kiss him again slightly,

“i love you too”

[incorrect-ulster-cycle]

is your child texting about the ulster cycle? know the signs!

brb = bitches require bulls lol = láeg owns, losers smh = smashing my hurley tbh = táin bó hcúailnge stfu = support the feeble ulaid tfw = tochmarc ferbe wins rofl = revenge (y)our father, lugaid idc = idh da charioteer btw = behead the warriors