#title from suburban legends

[weezly14]

in a way that's gonna screw me up forever

E | one shot | PeterMJ

"Goddammit, she didn’t expect Flash to actually find someone he wanted to hook up with. So now here she is, forced to watch her best friend and this random dude practically eyefucking across the hightop, stuck making awkward conversation with the guy’s friend. (She thinks his name’s Peter.)"

read now.

[secondstar-acorn]

suburban legends….

[porcelainseashore]

Heavenly Creatures

Pairing: Altar Boy! Leon Kennedy x Catholic School Girl! Reader

Summary: Growing up in a conservative, Catholic community, you and Leon were kept apart as kids for your own good. However, a fateful encounter at church many years later causes you to question those boundaries.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Smut, porn with plot, unprotected p in v, oral (m & f receiving), rimming (f receiving), semi-public sex (church), Catholicism, religious imagery & symbolism, temptation, guilt, shaming, name-calling, growing up, smoking, swearing, romance, fluff, secret relationship.

Author's Note: Leon and Reader are in senior high and 18 when smut happens. No guarantee that you won’t burn in hell after reading this 🔥😂

Special thanks to AliBelleRosetta for being my sounding board + shadesoflsk & Cameron for your helpful feedback.

Title from Heavenly Creatures by Wolf Alice.

AO3 Link

Snake. Devil. Satan’s spawn.

Those were the names you had grown accustomed to as a child. You didn’t know why you were called them, instead of the one your parents had given you. You were too little to understand. All you knew was that you were made to feel different. Maybe you were really an anomaly from the rest after all.

Instead of being quiet and shy, you were loud and boisterous. It was natural for you, seeing as you were going through your tomboy phase, which was the exact reason your parents had stuck to when they received complaints about your behavior. They laughed it off, while others reined their daughters in, forcing them into perfect Sunday dresses, braided hair adorned with pastel ribbons and clean, black Mary Jane shoes. Good enough to fit into a pretty gift box with wrapping paper. But you would tear it all down, before anyone could lay a finger on you.

Growing up in a place where other children were told to shun you was difficult at first. But then, you learnt to play by yourself and relish in the power of make believe. You climbed trees, rolled in the mud and ran through the forest fending off imaginary monsters. Sometimes, when you bumped into other groups of boys who threw stones and made fun of you, you fought back, further earning the title of crazy witch! Who needed these idiots anyway? You were your own best company.

One day, you sat in your disheveled, cream cotton dress, swinging your legs from a tree in your front lawn as usual. It overlooked the suburban neighborhood street, giving you a bird’s eye view of your surroundings. You noticed a family of three strolling along the sidewalk, though the couple gave you a disapproving look as they walked past, and whispered to their little, adolescent boy. They thought they were being so discreet, but you could hear every single word they were saying.

“Don’t pay attention to her. She’s bad news.”

Regardless of this remark, the boy gave in to his curiosity and as he peered up, you held his wide-eyed gaze. His irises were azure in color, glowing as it caught the early dusk light from different angles, shifting across a stunning spectrum of bluish, iridescent hues. You were captivated by them, and as you continued staring, his cheeks turned rosy red, though it seemed like he could not break away from you either. That moment was abruptly cut short, as his father smacked the back of his head, chiding his son for disobeying him.

“Come along now, Leon.” The older man wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, turning him away from your direction.

Leon. So, that was his name. As you watched them turn the corner at the end of the street and head off, you wondered if and when you’d see him again.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon had heard the stories passed around about you. His parents had often commented about your family as being one of those ‘weird, hippy types’. Frankly, this didn’t scare him, but rather, it fascinated him. They made you appear like something he had read in a book about myths and legends, and he wanted to see if it was real.

The next time he went out to play in the field, he walked by your place again on purpose, even though it would have been the longer route. As he had predicted, you were up in the tree again, lounging across its branches with your eyes closed, like a slithery snake basking in the sun. Your dress was stained with grass and dirt, and your feet were soiled and filthy. Twigs poked out haphazardly from your knotted, messy hair. 

You looked like a creature of sorts, alright, he thought.

He inched towards the base of the tree trunk gingerly, trying not to stir the sleeping beast. But as he got closer, he accidentally stepped into a pile of dead leaves, which crunched underfoot. 

You roused from your slumber then, rubbing your eyes as you stretched your arms out with a lazy yawn. He flinched when you looked downwards at him, as if you might strike out, but you just smiled and said, “Hi.”

He was confused then. From the descriptions of you, he had expected you to breathe fire and gnash your teeth at him fiercely, but you were just a normal girl. He gave you a puzzled look, nodding as he greeted you with a stutter, “Hi… I-I’m, uh, Leon.”

“I know.” You grinned.

“You do?” He looked astounded, as if you’d conducted some dark ritual to find out.

You picked up on this and teased him, wiggling your fingers as you mouthed, “Magic…”

He laughed, relaxing his stiff shoulders and asking you for your name. He’d only known you until now as that girl, or one of those nicknames people gave you out of spite.

You introduced yourself and offered him a half-eaten apple you had munched on before napping on the tree. He hesitated at first, regarding it as if it were a forbidden fruit, but eventually he reached out for it. Gratefully, he bit in, savoring the flavorful burst of its juicy flesh.

“Do you go to church?” He asked suddenly, out of the blue.

Shielding your eyes from the afternoon sun with your hand, you squinted at him. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh.” He paused, considering his next words, though he blurted out with unfiltered honesty, “Well, my dad said that demons can’t enter hallowed ground.”

“I’m not a demon,” you huffed indignantly.

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed, waving his hands in the air apologetically, trying to salvage the situation. “I think you’re nice, actually.” His face was warm and pink again.

“I think you’re nice too.”

And it continued on like this. Some days, he’d pop over to visit and speak with you from below the tree, when he was sure no one was watching. Until a day came where he wasn’t as careful, and was spotted by a concerned neighbor, who ratted him out to his parents. 

You were sad that he wasn’t allowed to see you again, but you’d grown used to being alone for most of your childhood, so you tried to put it behind you and move on, unaware that he’d often look out for you at each week’s Sunday Mass.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A number of years passed, and you filled out into your own body. You were in your senior year of an all-girls Catholic high school, and had recently turned 18. Reaching womanhood also meant that you became acutely aware of the changes in the way society treated you now, as compared to the opposite sex. Heads turned as you stalked around with one of the more unruly cliques in your school. Instead of being name-called after otherworldly creatures, you were reduced to bitch, slut, or whore. 

People hated what they couldn’t understand or control. You’d been giving the nuns a hard time by asking controversial questions about the biblical text you were meant to study and recite blindly. Detention was nothing new to you and your friends, whom you’d been caught smoking cigarettes together with on school grounds. You were a rebel at heart, and the rest of the law-abiding community wanted to crush that and make you conform.

Leon, on the other hand, had been going to the all-boys school next door, which shared a brother school relationship with yours. He was in the same year and age as you, though being a man meant he had the privilege of getting away with certain things you couldn’t. Even there, your name wasn’t safe from being circulated around the rumor mill. You were the subject of boys’ locker room talk. They associated you with the ‘bad girl’ crowd, highlighting your love for reading banned books and boasting about supposed sexual escapades with you. 

“She’ll do favors,” they said, making vulgar gestures by moving their fist back and forth in front of their mouth, while poking their tongue against their cheek.

Leon slammed his locker door shut and stormed off. It made him uncomfortable that they gossiped about you that way, but he was even more ashamed of the fact that he made no effort to stand up for you. He hardly knew you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that what they were doing was finding a scapegoat to blame. That, unfortunately, time and time again, happened to be you.

Most of the students there were sexually active anyway, but no one had complained about them. As long as one kept things on the down-low and upheld a certain moralistic façade, they were considered as ‘innocent’, ‘pure’, or ‘normal’ even. For one, he was pretty sure that his father was having an affair with the church choir mistress, but that seemed to go overlooked. 

Everyone’s such hypocrites, he pondered, frowning in distaste. Including himself. Although he liked to think that he was brave and courageous, in actuality, he was afraid of rocking the boat. Fitting in was more important, just as his parents had taught him from a young age. It was the side of him that he hated the most, but could not get rid of.

Gathering his belongings, he left school and hurried off. He’d been requested last-minute to serve at Mass that evening, as one of the other altar boys had fallen ill. At church, he exchanged his school uniform for the standard black cassock and white surplice, before starting with the Introductory Rites.

You, on the other hand, had been singled out along with a bunch of other troublesome girls to attend Evening Mass with the Mother Superior that day. It was just your luck that you had to devote an hour of your time to a set of outdated rituals and prayers, with the aim of reflecting upon your sins. The most frustrating part of this exercise was that all of you were placed in the front row pews, so there was no chance of daydreaming or dozing off in front of the priest. You’d never been much of a believer, but sometimes you did speculate if God was watching your every move from above.

As you stood up for the entrance procession, which signaled the start of Mass, a familiar mop of dirty blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes passed by. You’d recognize that anywhere, but it was a wonder how you hadn’t realized that he was serving as an altar boy all this while. Maybe your Mass timings hadn’t aligned? Or maybe you just never paid much attention in church. You’d only seen him here and there when he attended Mass with his family as part of the congregation, but you ignored him back then, because you didn’t want to remember the feeling of losing the closest thing you had to a friend in your pre-teen days.

When Leon turned around to face the congregation for the greeting, he gulped as he saw you, standing almost directly in front of him as both of you made the Sign of the Cross. Speak of the devil, he muttered internally, before chastising himself for unintentionally insulting you and shook that thought away.

You gave him a coy smile as he scampered off to where he was meant to be stationed. For the first time in a while, you took the chance to admire his chiseled features and how much he had grown. He had always been attractive, but he was no longer the little boy you used to know, and instead now a fine, young man, in an even finer religious attire. Puberty did him good, you mused.

All at once, a mischievous plan flashed across your mind as you plotted how to win his attention. It would be an entertaining way to pass the time in this mundane institution. Viewing the school uniform as yet another means for the authorities to curb people’s freedom and creative expression, you had a habit of violating the dress code by making minor adjustments to it. Whether it was shortening the hem of your skirt or wearing below the ankle socks, you went for it. And today was no exception.

You waited until it was time to be seated before attempting to catch his gaze. Within a few minutes, he sneaked a peek your way and you stifled a laugh. Bingo. As you continued looking straight at him, you stretched your legs out cautiously, so as not to alert the Mother Superior, who sat beside you, to your antics. His eyes widened and flickered, as you showed off their length, rotating your ankles in small circles languidly. The other altar boys started to take note and whispered in hushed tones amongst themselves. But you only had eyes for Leon, scrutinizing him like a hawk, as you bared your teeth with a sly grin plastered across your face.

It was only a matter of time before the Mother Superior rapped you on the legs with a thin, wooden cane she carried around for doling out such punishments. The other girls in your row giggled as you returned your legs to a respectable position, disregarding the smarting pain that had accompanied the blow. 

It was worth it, you reasoned, spotting Leon’s lopsided smile, as he turned away to hide his blush.

This soon carried on like an unspoken game between you and Leon. You’d attend Mass whenever he was serving as an altar boy, and he’d look out for you, exchanging glances like a secret code shared between the two of you. A sense of thrill arose within him each time, as to what you’d try next. If only he knew what you were capable of.

At some point, you grew bolder. During the Holy Communion, where Leon had been helping the priest to hold the patina under the chins of those who received the Sacred host, you made sure once again to make eye contact with him the whole way through. Your mouth was slightly agape, as you extended your tongue, clasping your hands together in a pious prayer position. When the priest placed the host in your mouth, you swallowed it suggestively, licking your upper lip for a finishing touch. Leon nearly stumbled over backwards as his face turned bright red like a tomato. The last thing he heard was your silvery laughter, and you returned to your seat as if nothing had happened. You had ensnared him now.

When Mass ended, you slipped him a note, asking him to meet you at the confessional when everyone else had been ushered out. You knelt in the penitent compartment, waiting for him to arrive, confident that he would show up. A few minutes later, you heard someone enter the booth where the priest usually sat.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began. Through the latticed screen, you could just about make out Leon’s face as he chuckled.

“What are you playing at?”

“You tell me,” you challenged, testing the waters. “I haven’t received any complaints.”

“Well, I have a question,” he mentioned quietly. “Do you still remember when we hung out back then? At the tree.”

There was pang in your heart, as you recalled your childhood memories. “Of course, you were the only one who bothered to speak to me.”

You pursed your lips before taking the plunge. “I really appreciated that.”

There was a momentary pause, as he took your words in. “I wish they didn’t separate us.”

“It isn’t too late to start over.” It was humiliating how eager you sounded. No matter how much you tried to repress it, you yearned to rekindle that connection you had with him once.

“Listen, I like you,” he admitted, sighing heavily. “But, I can’t go public with this. My parents-”

“Who says it has to be public?” You retorted defensively. 

His heartfelt confession emboldened you, yet a part of you felt dejected that this was the best option he could offer. However, you didn’t want to concede without giving it a shot.

He made a noise which sounded like he was in disbelief. “You mean-”

“Shall I come over and show you?” You interrupted, already getting up before he could answer.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “I-I’d like that, I guess.”

Exiting your compartment, you stepped out and swiftly went over to where he was, closing the door behind you. It was crammed and stuffy in this tiny box with two people, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Giving him a once-over, it struck you that he was still in his altar boy attire and perhaps what you were about to do was wrong on so many levels, but you brushed those thoughts aside.

“Um-”

Before he could speak any further, you ran your hands up along his chest and planted your lips onto his, soft and pillowy in texture. He let out a low moan, easing into your embrace as he kissed back, holding onto the back of your head for better leverage. His tongue grazed across your lips and you parted them in response, allowing it to slip inside as you tasted each other. Grabbing the collar of his cassock, you pressed your bodies together heatedly. You sucked on his tongue, eliciting another moan from his throat, as you shuffled him around, pushing his back against the wooden wall with a loud thud. Both of you had lost yourselves in a whirlwind of kisses, oblivious to the outside world and the ruckus you were making.

However, it was hard to ignore the hymn that was being sung when the next Mass started. Leon froze, before pulling away hastily. His mouth was red and swollen, and a pearly string of saliva connected it with yours.

“Shit, we lost track of time,” he panted. 

If you didn’t want to be seen, you’d need to remain where you were until the Mass ended. In other words, both of you were trapped here for at least another hour. 

Not being one to let such matters ruin the vibe, you responded, “That’s not a problem for me.” Trailing a lone finger down Leon’s body seductively, you let it come to rest above the growing bulge in his cassock.

“Are you serious?” He breathed, as you cupped your hand around it, palming him through his clothes.

“You got a better idea?” You murmured in his ear, squeezing his erection a little as you continued rubbing against it.

“Don’t get me wrong, it feels amazing.” His voice was strained as he spoke. “But, it’s just…”

“Catholic guilt?” You teased.

“Yeah, probably.” He nodded sheepishly.

“Well, maybe if we get you out of this thing.” You gestured to his attire. “You might relax into it more.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed, tugging the surplice over his head and discarding it to the ground. “Though it never really goes away, does it?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “I still get it, but it’s less of an issue now.” It made you follow up with a question of your own. “Does that mean I’m a bad person?”

His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You're doing it again.”

“Hm?”

“Guilt,” he indicated. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway.” You tried to deflect the topic, knowing the rumors that people spread about you. Leon had probably heard it all. “At least there’s still hope for you.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me yet.” You winked, removing the sash from his cassock as he unbuttoned the rest of it, revealing a plain white shirt and a pair of shorts underneath.

He snickered as you clucked your tongue at the sight. “What did you expect me to do? Go Commando?”

“Would’ve been hot,” you pointed out.

Leon had always been perceptive. From your interactions, he began to suspect that sometimes you relied on lighthearted banter as a way to mask your nervousness and other underlying emotions.

Nestling his fingers under your chin, he turned you towards him. “You sure about this?”

“Mm hm.” It was sweet of him to check in. Most guys never offered you the same courtesy. “Been thinking about it since Communion,” you added brazenly.

He snorted as you gave him a quick peck on the lips. Working your way down, you kissed his clothed body, pulling the waistband of his underwear and shorts to his ankles. Kneeling before him, you reached for his cock, smearing beads of his precum carelessly along his velvety skin, while you pumped his hot shaft slowly.

He inhaled sharply, snapping his eyes shut, as he tilted his head back in pleasure. In the background, you could hear the priest’s sermon droning on.

With a smug smile, you warned, “Do me a favor and try to keep it down, will you?”

Before he had a chance to react, you filled your mouth with his cock, sliding all the way down its hardened length.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

Instantly, you released it with a pop and tutted in mock disappointment, “Taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

“We’re so going to hell for this,” he laughed faintly, tangling his hands in your hair.

“Ah-” He gasped again, as you held onto the base of his cock, lifting it to flatten your tongue on its underside. Slathering it with saliva, you took his balls into your wet mouth, one at a time, sucking on them delectably. “Fuck!”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” You joked.

“Not if you keep doing what you’re doing, angel.”

Angel. That was a new one. You’d never been called that before, but you liked the sound of it.

Wrapping your lips around his cock, you started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Each time you came up, you flicked your tongue at the tip, licking it as you stared up at him. His eyes flew open, gazing at you with lust and arousal while you sucked him off more vigorously.

Sliding his cock in deeper, you allowed it to hit the back of your throat, causing you to make a guttural noise. Clenching his fist, he bit down hard on his knuckles to stop himself from crying out. If this was hell, he’d stay right here with you. He couldn’t think straight anymore, as he bucked his hips forward in response.

Grabbing his ass, your fingernails left crescent shaped indents on his skin, as you let him fuck your mouth to chase his high. Tears lined your eyelashes and sweat poured down your brow. It had gotten incredibly hot and humid in this enclosed space. But his muted moans only served to turn you on even more. You wondered how perverse and trashy you looked in this position, though Leon could only mumble the opposite in his feverish state.

Soon, he tensed and quivered while hissing through gritted teeth, “God, I’m gonna cum.”

Lady Luck appeared to be on your side, as the congregation were in the middle of singing another hymn, which inadvertently muffled whatever sounds were coming from the confessional. He struggled to hold in his groans as you felt a thick, salty load of his cum wash up against your throat. You choked a bit before swallowing it whole.

Collapsing backwards, you leaned against the cool surface of the seat behind you, wiping the edges of your mouth. Tucking his spent dick back under his clothes, he sank down beside you, kissing you gently and tasting himself on your lips. 

“You ok?” He brushed his thumb along your cheek.

You nodded silently and smiled, contemplating if there would be a future to what you had with him now.

“I ruined you,” he jested, showering you with kisses along your jawline.

“As if.” You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew it was the truth.

And, just like he had read your mind, he uttered the magic words, “So, when will I see you again?”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Since the encounter at the confessional, you continued your clandestine meetings with Leon, just like back in the old days, except both of you were now wiser in covering your tracks. In public, you pretended not to know each other, yet shared furtive, longing glances when you were in the same vicinity. Sometimes, he would make an excuse to brush past you, his touch ghosting across the curve of your spine, your shoulders, the back of your hand to the tip of your pinkie finger. Away from prying eyes, you hooked up passionately, damning each other further to hell. How many levels were there again? You’d lost count.

You enjoyed the moments spent with him. The aftercare and cuddling. The long talks into the night. You understood each other somehow, it wasn’t like this with other people. So, if the Day of Judgment arrived, why would God not sympathize with you both?

Despite that, neither of you had put a label on where you stood with each other. How did this secret relationship work? If you were found out, would he ditch you like before? Would you be thrown under the bus, so that he could be purified again? It wasn’t long until insecurity reared its ugly head, gnawing at you from within.

Leon sensed something was off as you lay in his arms, naked while he spooned you in the back seat of his car, parked along a desolate dirt path near the forest. You had that pensive look on your face, like you were in a world of your own, one where he couldn’t enter.

Pulling you close to him, he kissed the top of your shoulder, coaxing you out of your reverie. “Wanna talk about it?”

You hummed noncommittally. After a long pause, you asked, “Are you embarrassed by me?”

He was caught off-guard by the question and his breathing stilled. “No,” he argued. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m just tired of hiding,” you sighed. “It’s like I’m making you do something bad.”

There was a brief ache in his chest, as guilt swelled up like a wave. Coward, an inner voice spat.

Carding his fingers through your hair, he pressed his lips against the temple of your head. “You make me feel like the best version of myself.”

“Hm.” You pinched your lips together, wanting to believe him, but you weren’t convinced.

He observed this, but decided not to press the issue any further, knowing that you needed action, not words.

She’ll be your downfall. A surly voice piped up within him, like fire and brimstone. He shook it off, ignoring the moral tug-of-war that had occurred once he made that statement, as he vowed to prove himself to you in the coming days.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you’d agreed to meet was in church, after the very last Mass of the day. He was serving as an altar boy again, and you were intrigued as to whether he had planned to reenact the entire confessional scene or switch it up with something new, like making you go through the Stations of the Cross while fucking you. You giggled at the idea, only to be shushed by a fellow parishioner, whom you had disturbed in meditative prayer.

When Mass ended and everyone except yourself had left the nave, you waited patiently for him in the pews. After a while, you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to face Leon, who had changed into his casual clothes. As you got to your feet, he cupped the sides of your face in his hands, closing the distance, and bringing your lips to meet his in a fervent kiss. You were slightly taken aback by his initiation, since he was usually the shyer one out of the two of you.

Claiming your hand in his, he led you to the front, where the altar stood before the austere crucifix that hung from the wall. He smirked, noticing the look of shock and incredulity on your face, as it gradually began to dawn on you what he had in mind. However, he was anxious too, you could tell from the way his hand was trembling. He was sealing his fate, and you were both going down together. Nothing could bring you back after this ultimate act of blasphemy.

At the foot of the altar, he caressed his lips against yours. “I guess God is our witness now.”

Leaning in, you found yourselves consumed in a lip lock, which deepened with each passing second as you helped each other out of your clothes, kicking them off unceremoniously to the side. He spun you around, bending you forward against the smooth, marble top of the altar. The cold surface caused your nipples to harden and goosebumps to form on your skin. You shivered as he spread your legs wider apart and knelt down, holding your thighs as he licked a firm stripe along your silken folds. 

As he continued to lap at the sensitive flesh, he brought a hand towards your clit, stroking it softly with his middle finger. You jerked from the sensation, whimpering as he alternated between thrusting his tongue into your heat and suckling it with his lips. There was a slight pressure as you felt one of his fingers sliding into your pussy, already soaked with arousal. At the same time, his tongue trailed up towards your rim, teasing it with long, flat licks.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, gripping the edge of the altar, as an electrifying tingle coursed through your veins.

There was a playful smack on your ass. “Forgotten the Third Commandment already?” Leon scolded.

“Huh?”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain,” he mimicked your tone from when you had teased him at the confessional.

“Ugh,” you whined. “I’m sure this is the least of our concerns.”

You felt his hot breath against your asshole before he dipped his tongue in lightly. Simultaneously, he pumped your pussy, pushing in another finger and stretching you out, before his tongue went back to circling around your rim, inciting a string of moans from your mouth.

“Feeling good?”

“Mm, yes,” you replied hoarsely. “But when are you going to fuck me?”

He coughed out a laugh at your bluntness, before imparting a piece of unsolicited advice. “Patience is a virtue.”

You groaned at his quip. “Really, Leon? Are you-”

He interrupted rudely, pressing his hand on your back as he entered you, burying his cock deep into your cunt. You nearly screamed in ecstasy as he pounded his hips against your ass repeatedly, already setting a brutal pace from the beginning. Maybe you should’ve been careful of what you wished for.

“What was that again?” He taunted.

You growled, clenching your jaw as you felt his dick dragging against your sensitive walls. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed across the space. Your mind fogged up in an insatiable haze as you pushed back rhythmically against his thrusting, allowing him to penetrate you further, and taking pleasure in how his head brushed against your cervix with each stroke.

“So close,” you rasped, your core tightening as if it was about to burst.

At this, he pulled away briefly, flipping you over as he lifted you onto the altar top. He had a bruising grip around your thighs, which you wrapped around his waist instinctively, interlocking your ankles behind his back to draw him closer. Bewitched, he took a moment to drink in the divine sight of your flushed, moist body, supple and wanting in his arms, before kissing you sloppily on the mouth. Pressing his forehead against yours, he asserted, “You don’t know what you do to me, angel.”

With that, he rutted into you relentlessly, your breasts bouncing as you clung to the back of his neck, crying out in rapture. When you finally snapped, a glimmer from the gold cross necklace he wore daily flashed before your eyes. You looped your index finger around it, tugging at it as you peered up at the bleeding face of Christ looking down at you ominously from the crucifix. The last remains of the day’s light filtered through the stained glass behind him, casting a kaleidoscope of mottled colors across your bodies, the altar and the stone floor, like a disease.

You realized you had tempted Leon beyond salvation. But in spite of it, he had followed you willingly. This was the proof he had wanted to show you. You were the angel he would desecrate everything for. He’d cut your wings off so you’d be his and stay.

His cock throbbed with desire as he rode you through your orgasm. As he neared the edge, he pulled out, finishing himself off. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he murmured a mixture of curses and professions against your skin, while spurting hot white cum over the mound of your pussy. Holding onto the marbled structure for support, he bent over you, placing tender kisses on your eyes and your lips.

It seemed as if he had turned his back on God and worshiped you now. But instead of a guilty conscience, you felt nothing but love. Silently, both of you cleaned up and got dressed. He delicately reattached the butterfly clip that had come loose in your hair, while you wiped away the lipstick that had smudged onto his face. There would be no signs of what had transpired, except he had another surprise lined up for you. 

Upon exiting the church doors, Leon took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, as you walked out onto the street together. You were his - he’d show you off to the whole damn world without shame.

[ldrfanatic]

Theodore Nott "13"

Theo Nott; Taylor Swift; A cohesive mini-fic series following my favorite songs from every Taylor Swift album as follows;

synopsis - amidst the turmoil of your final years at hogwarts, you found your heart intertwined with theodore nott's. despite the darkness looming, your love for each other bloomed like a rare flower. but destiny, ever fickle, seemed determined to tear you apart.

chapters are based off of my favorite taylor swift songs from each album :)

Series Title: "13"

chapter list

1 i just wanna know you better | "everything has changed" from the Red album

2 you might still have me | "should've said no" from the Fearless album

3 love made me crazy | "don't blame me" from the Reputation album

4 sitting in the corner i haunt | "right where you left me" bonus track from the Evermore

5 the night i nearly lost you | "the great war" from the Midnights album

6 i think your house is haunted | "seven" from the Folklore album

7 when the sun came up | "out of the woods" from the 1989 album

8 that's my whole world | "miss americana & the heartbreak prince" from the Lover album

9 kiss in cars and downtown bars | "cardigan" from the Folklore album

10 wherever you stray, i'll follow | "willow" from the Evermore album

11 if you'd say you'd rather love than fight | "story of us" from the Speak Now album

12 so casually cruel | "all too well" from the Red Taylor's Version album

13 i had the time of my life | "long live" from the Speak Now album

14 screw me up forever | "suburban legends" from the 1989 Taylor's Version album

15 golden | "daylight" from the Lover album

A/N - if you're gonna read this prepare to cry

[evermoredeluxe]

1989 (taylor’s version) vault track titles:

is it over now (taylor’s version) [from the vault]

now that we don’t talk (taylor’s version) [from the vault]

say, don’t go (taylor’s version) [from the vault]

suburban legends (taylor’s version) [from the vault]

[ilguna]

Could I get a piano session of "Suburban Legends" off of 1989 TV + Finnick Odair?

☼ suburban legends (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing,

wc; 2k

prompt; Piano Sessions: Suburban Legends by Taylor Swift.

--

There is nothing that can save the sinking ship that is your relationship with Finnick.

A part of you knew that you would not make it through the summer when you started dating him in the spring. As much as you would have liked for it to be false, realistically everything began falling apart about a month in. If you had tried to fix it then, maybe this wouldn’t be happening, but instead you chose to wait.

You knew full well what was going on between him and Daniah, even before you’d started dating him. The lengths he’d go, the hoops he’d jump through—just to be able to see her for a few hours. He was so careful to hide it from you, coming up with these excuses that could never actually be feasible. 

You figured them out pretty quickly. And that should’ve been the deal breaker right there. You remember thinking it would be a better idea to end it than to continue to entertain him, or let him walk over you. If the thought of you being broken up didn’t hurt so much, you would’ve gone through with it, too.

You chose to forgive him, without ever telling him that you knew he was cheating. You wanted to initially, you spent nights rehearsing what you would say to him. You went through the phases of being angry, and then the sadness that came with it. While the infidelity would’ve taken the love out of anyone else, your heart beats for him.

Finnick is your best friend. Or rather, was. You trusted him, especially in moments that you never should have. He hasn’t done anything like that before, so you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Whereas, if it were any other boy in District Four, you wouldn’t have let it get this far. 

You never would have given them the light of day, but you handed it over to Finnick as if it didn’t mean anything to you. Lately, you’ve been blaming it on the magnetic pull that he possesses. He attracts a certain crowd, one that you shouldn’t classify in, but here you are anyway. 

Finnick is—for a lack of a better word—cool. He earned that title sometime after he won his Games, proving to the rest of the victors in Four that he was more than just a boy. He’s one of them. He deserves a place in their stupid hierarchy.

And he got it, of course. Why wouldn’t he? Finnick set the record for the youngest victor in history, one that likely won’t ever be broken again. In his first year of mentoring at fifteen, he brought you home. Which held the attention of the Capitol for the next two years, shadowing over you. He became one of the most important Darlings.

In District Four, Finnick became one of those victors that no one could get too close to without getting anxious. He had everyone wrapped around his finger, whether he wanted them or not. Which allowed him to fit right in with the victors that made the important decisions.

Despite the many attempts you’ve made to join them, they never had room for you. It didn’t matter who’s ass you kissed, if you went through a whole style change, or if you were suddenly popular in the Capitol. They didn’t want you, not until you started dating Finnick, which then got you a rite of passage.

It was a blessing and a curse after that. As you spent every waking moment trying to brag the same way they did. You dug up every secret that you’d been holding on to for special occasions just to impress Finnick. To get him to look at you the same starry-eyed way that he saw them.

The way he sees Daniah.

She’s everything that you’re not, you can see that now. She won a couple years after you did, when there was finally enough spotlight to share. She’s got the same air around her that Finnick does. They’re practically the same person, which must be why they get along so well.

But you know what they say, right? Opposites attract. They can teach each other new things, and give new opportunities. Even if they aren’t really meant to be together. Except, the only one benefitting in this situation is you, and it’s not even what you want.

You want Finnick. You want him to love you and no one else. Is that really too much to ask for?

“Are you enjoying the party?” A hand wraps around your waist, snaking to your stomach as Finnick pulls you back into him, leaning over your shoulder. “Because it looks like you’re planning an escape.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you came up with an excuse to get out of a house party like this. You don’t know why they insist on having one every weekend, they turn out to be the same as the party before. They aren’t even the talk of the district like they used to be.

“I’m having fun.” You ignore his comment, twisting in his arm to look at him.

Finnick’s curls are damn near perfect this evening, he must’ve washed his hair this afternoon to get them to look so good. Before you became his girlfriend, his bronze hair used to be a frizzy mess, unsure of how to take care of it. You taught him a different routine, and ever since, people can’t seem to keep their hands to themselves.

Neither can you.

You fix the few on his brow, he lifts a glass to his lips, tilting his head back to finish the cup. It’s likely a mixed drink, he told you earlier that he wasn’t feeling the classic drinks. It doesn’t seem like a big change, but to the people in this house, it will be.

Finnick reaches for a coaster with two of his fingers, placing it on the glass table before setting his cup on top of it. He then turns his attention to you, free hand cupping the side of your face, swaying with the music. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, gazing into your eyes.

With the two of you in your own bubble, you shift in a small circle. He holds you close to his chest, his hand rubbing your lower back. While your body begins to warm up with the love radiating off of him. How are you supposed to believe that he doesn’t want you too, when he does something like this without being prompted?

He leans forward, stealing the last of your space, lips coming for yours. You suck in a breath, wanting to dodge the kiss, because you know that it’s a bad idea. If you want to break up with him tonight, then you can’t push it. You can’t test your limits again.

It’s too late.

Finnick stops moving when his lips press into yours, wanting it to be soft, gentle. You can feel your heart skipping beats, excited that he’s touching you this way. And when he pulls back, your bones ache for more. You even catch yourself thinking that you could do this forever with him. Nothing has to change.

You could go to the Capitol together, hand in hand, showing everyone there that he’s yours. That you managed to catch the boy that they can’t get to stay. He wanted you, a girl that’s nothing like them or anyone that he surrounds himself with at home. A victor, but a lesser known one. One that doesn’t mind being quiet, one that’s fine with being overlooked. You would forget about everything else, including the way they treated you. 

But you can’t, and you won’t. 

“Finnick, we need to talk.” You tell him, hands loosening from his shirt. “And I’d rather do it in private.”

“Is everything okay?” He asks, face twisting with worry.

You press your lips together, which is telling enough to Finnick, because he takes your hand tightly to guide you through the packed house. This week, the party is being hosted at his place, which means that no matter where you go, the conversation won’t be interrupted. His people are too polite to go wandering and snooping where they shouldn’t.

He brings you upstairs, down the hall, and into his bedroom. He lets you step inside first, where you get an eyeful of his unkempt bed while he shuts the door. A bed that the two of you have shared. How many times has he brought Daniah here, too?

“Are you feeling alright?” Finnick asks, coming around.

You shake your head, “No, Finnick, I’m not.” You meet his eyes. “This isn’t working between us.”

His eyebrows twitch, his cocking to the side briefly before he straightens up. He breathes out a laugh, reaching for you. “What do you mean, (Y/n)?”

You avoid his hands, pushing them away. “I mean that we’re in two different places, and I am not what you’re looking for.” You watch his face smooth out, beginning to understand. “I don’t belong here.”

“You don’t have to belong here, (Y/n). Not as long as you’re with me.” He sighs. “And you are what I’m looking for. We wouldn’t be dating if I wasn’t.”

“Daniah.” Her name slips from your mouth before you can catch it. Finnick visibly pales. “Cayden, Sitara, Emrin.” You list. “Are they also not what you’re looking for?”

“They mean nothing to me, honey.”

“They mean enough, if you’re sneaking away to be with them everyday.” You hold up your hand. “I’ve already made up my mind. We’re finished.”

“I haven’t talked to them in a very long time.”

“A week is not a long time.” You point at him.

“Since we began dating in March?” He challenges. “I stopped.”

“You can’t lie to me, Finn. I’ve known this entire time. I’ve just been ignoring it because I couldn’t stand the idea of this ending.” You motion between the two of you. “But I’m over it now. I’m over the lying and the dodging and the stuffy parties.”

You back up for the door, hand reaching for the knob. Finnick is shaking his head, following after you. “You can’t just leave, (Y/n).”

“I am.” You tell him, stepping out.

“You’ll come back.” He tells you, and it’s not because he’s being confident. There’s a look in his eyes, “We’ll get back together. There’s something between us that won’t keep you away.”

He must know this is a chink in your armor, because you hesitate for a second. Does he think about you the same way? You shake your head, trying to rid the thoughts.

“I’m not coming back.”

You turn for the stairs, heading down them quickly. Thankfully, the door isn’t too far from the bottom step. You squeeze between the nicely dressed upper-class, passing the glass table with Finnick’s empty cup. Once you make it to the front door, you know that you’re safe, because he won’t risk chasing you out.

The warm summer air feels nice against your face. You leave the house, and when you swing the door shut, you lock your composure inside by accident. Unable to retrieve it, you let the tears build in your eyes as you leave Finnick’s porch, heading for your house a good number of feet down the sidewalk.

This was the right thing to do. You had to break up with him, because he never would have done it. He had himself convinced the same way that you did, he would have let the two of you drown if it meant you stayed together. As if he couldn’t stand the idea of hurting you.

For your sake, you hope that he’s not right. You don’t want to run back to him.

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[lucysarah-c]

Do you have any plans for a LevixReader longfic that you would like to write about plot-wise (going back to seasons 1 and 4) besides Holy Ground or after you finish Holy Ground?

Hi, dear! How are you?

Oh, that's such a good question! Yes, I do! Actually, I have the first chapter written, but I will post it once I finish 'Holy Ground.' My idea is to finish writing it before even posting the first chapter. It's not going to be as long as 'HG,' no no. 'Holy Ground' is my baby; I planned that story for years, and it's long because I created a whole universe about it haha. Chapters are long, and they are already cut out of plenty of scenes before they get posted. I think that once 'HG' is done, it may be 500k, and that's a lot.

The new fic would only be five chapters; the titles and everything are already decided. Because who am I if not an obsessive controller and planner? The story will be a canon time but AU about what would have happened if Levi, Farlan, and Isabel would have succeeded in killing Erwin, and now they live in the capital city. The title will be 'Suburban Legends,' with one prologue and four chapters. Levi X reader.

I can even give you a sneak peak:

Snow crunching underfoot, cobblestones slippery, skies open and flamingo pink, the screams of newspapers and old brooms sweeping streets. Head down, dark locks dusted with snowflakes, hands in pockets, calloused, tired feet in a worn uniform. Elaborate sighs, eyes glued to the floor, shop owners opening their stores, boulevards closing. A shaking figure paces down the streets, curious eyes following its path as some recognize him.

The ferry wasn't scheduled for its first trip for at least two to three hours more. He needed to pass the time; his meeting with the higher-ups and Historia had lasted until dawn. The early mornings downtown hold a melancholy that deeply affects him. As he reaches a small plaza, his sigh rises and he admires the view. Sheena's Wall exhales an air of foreignness he can't comprehend, like visiting an ex's house - familiar yet tinged with unease and foreignness. A place once called his own, now recalled with flashbacks of bad dreams.

The overwhelming desire to be alone consumes him, perhaps hidden in a forest outside the walls where nobody could see or expect him. Unusual for him, but he feels on the verge of tears. What could be the reason? The stress of the Wall Maria retake expedition? Erwin's unwavering determination and wavering intentions? The reasons he joined the scouts now disturbed like a distorted dream? Kenny? The kids from the underground reminding him of his own and, once again, Kenny? His mother?

Desolation and doubts cloud his mind; the streets teem with strangers, and the wash of loneliness shivers his body in a way it hasn't before. He can almost believe that at 31, he wishes Kenny were around again, to guide him, to ask him questions, to show him the way. Joining the scouts seven years ago, knowing more at 24 than at 31. Pacing the streets like an abandoned dog, wondering where to return, never thinking they'd one day be left to fend for themselves in the empty fields, seeking civilization by the scent of food and the hope of love.

Thank you for passing by! I can't help but wonder what made you want to ask that question! Feel free to return haha.

Have a lovely day/night!

[pardonmydelays]

it took me some time to collect my thoughts about the vault tracks but i think i'm finally ready to speak. so first of all, yes, they are so phenomenal they left me speechless. let's fucking go.

"SLUT!"

totally unexpected and yet much better than i thought it would be. the production is so dreamy, the lyrics is somehow really sad but also, may i say, poetic? excuse me but all the flamingo pink, sunrise boulevard, aquamarine moonlit swimming pool, tangerine neon light??? what the actual fuck? my imagination is going wild right now. i may even write a story based on it because all of this is so inspiring, that's what this song is doing to my fucked up brain. honestly, i didn't expect it to be one of my favourites, because it was so hyped before it even came out and yet here we are. i think it's my second fav from this vault.

lyrics that felt like a slap in the face: i'll pay the price, you won't.

SAY DON'T GO

i knew it was gonna be a sad one and it was mostly based on the length of this track. and i do love long tracks. i don't have much to say about it, the lyrics is really good and it's so vulnerable it actually broke my heart a little. i did not expect this vault to be so sad. also, may i just say the production is absolutely perfect? jack antonoff, you are my hero. i'm yours but you're not mine, you don't get it but i do.

lyrics that felt like a slap in the face: i said "i love you", you say nothing back.

NOW THAT WE DON'T TALK

ABSOLUTE PERFECTION. this is definitely my favourite vault track and the only thing i don't like about this song is the length (WHY TAYLOR???). amazing production, outstanding vocals (especially in the chorus), the lyrics is insane, excuse me, i love the i call my mom part, you grew your hair long made me go absolutely feral for the reason i can't even explain, and oh my god, the outro??? the outro is everything. the yacht part? maybe i fucking died??? i guess what i'm trying to say is that this song is everything to me now. it also made me want to study question...? once again.

lyrics that felt like a slap in the face: and the only way back to my dignity was to turn into a shrouded mystery.

SUBURBAN LEGENDS

so i claimed this song before it even came out and i want to unclaim it now (just kidding). it's not my favourite tho, but i do like it. it grew on me i guess. i still love the title and once again, the outro is pretty much the best part of the song and it's the most catchy for sure. the tick-tock part, i absolutely love it. you don't knock anymore and my whole life's ruined? holy fuck taylor, i feel you. the production reminds me of bejeweled, why.

lyrics that felt like a slap in the face: and you kissed me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever.

IS IT OVER NOW?

first of all, the seagull is seagulling (thank you @anixknowsnothin, hours passed and i still can't stop laughing). but i do love the production on this one and i actually think the seagull was unexpected but also a very good idea! once again, everybody say thank you jack. the lyrics, on the other hand, is absolutely insane. i love the coffee part, to no one's surprise, cause i'm a slut for coffee (pun intended). the chorus is amazing, the bridge is everything, i want to scream and die. your new girl is my clone, if you even care. we do love sad bops! also, what a fantastic way to end the album! 10/10! thank you goodnight!

lyrics that felt like a slap in the face: if she's got blue eyes i will surmise that you'll probably date her.

[spade-riddles]

Bullying a woman in defense of a football player they’ll hate in like 3 weeks is ridiculous. Performative fandom at its finest because that article was an OPINION piece with receipts.

Case in point: Joe Alwyn was on a pedestal for 6 years and could do no wrong because he “saved” Taylor and was gifted a Grammy for his efforts as a musical prodigy that he apparently failed to disclose in his journey to becoming an industry titan and holding the title of next leading man the entire time.

Until he wasn’t. Now he’s a cheating, jobless loser who kept Taylor, whose whole theme of reputation was secrecy and a secret relationship locked in the basement of the house that she bought from money she made with songs she wrote from being bejeweled.

Weren’t they *just* telling Taylor they’d stay last year? Yet here they are, aghast and in an uproar because someone wrote an opinion piece in the NYT that Taylor could be queer.

Here’s the thing:

Before Speak Now TV was released, Taylor, knowing how Swifties have treated and continue to treat John Mayer, actually said she doesn’t need people defending her on the internet. She addressed them directly.

Yet, when she basically said she didn’t think her female relationships would be sensationalized or sexualized…as in by the same people who sensationalized/sexualized her male relationships (aka the media who were slut shaming her or insinuating every male she was seen with was someone she was dating) and they immediately took that to mean she ended kaylors and said she was straight.

Taylor Swift (possibly/allegedly) being queer isn’t going to stop them from buying “Suburban Legends” Subaru Remix or whatever 40 times. Lol so what does it matter what someone’s opinion piece says if it’s their opinion?

[thighzp]

“You are a strong man, Alex,” Henry shook his head and took another drag. “Saw you inside with her. Could have easily sealed the deal, mate.”

Alex felt his cheeks grow hot. “Yeah? Well you go for her then, mate.” Alex imitated. “If you’re into the vulnerable drunk girl thing, that is.”

The small smile dropped from Henry’s lips as he said, “No, no. She’s, uh… she’s not my type.”

“Yeah I don’t make a habit of fucking drunk girls either. Unless it’s like a girlfriend or someone I’m serious with, then it’s like, pre-negotiated and stuff,” and he was fully aware he was rambling again.

After a few moments of silence, Henry said, “Yeah, well… I don’t make a habit of fucking drunk girls. Or girls… At all… For that matter.”

Oh? Oh.

***

I linked the tweet/tumblr post below that inspired me to write this because holy shit these two pictures of the two of them own my entire ass

High school seniors (17-18 y/o and consenting!!) lacrosse captain Alex & rebellious musician Henry, Alex and June are twins in this universe just go with it, and I think I have some more ideas for this AU so let me know if we like it!

title is from suburban legends by taylor swift

[stellar-skyy]

SUGGESTED READING - ♡

NOTES: this is an ongoing list of some of my favourite works by my mutuals! there were many i wanted to include (because everyone is so talented omg) but i didn't want this list to be too long.

some of these writers have moved, but i have tagged their latest blog. if you wish to not be included here for whatever reason, let me know and i will remove you.

the blood of the covenant. — @romaritimeharbor ⤷ notes: addi's writing style will never fail to amaze me. every word of this had me giggling and kicking my feet, and reading it felt like a warm cup of tea. i adore the way the siblings are written, this is just so fluffy and lovely with a sprinkle of hurt/comfort for flavour. i love you endlessly! — @thexianzhoujade ⤷ notes: absolutely hearbreaking. this broke me. i have never emotionally recovered from this. written absolutely beautifully, in the most shattering way possible. will he change his mind about you? — @june-again ⤷ notes: this hit me right where it hurts, because i could see myself: desperately clinging to someone while quietly wondering when it was going to end. it honestly almost made me cry when i read it, because i remember when i was at a point in my life where i needed to hear those words and reading this felt like it healed something in me. 1989 - a blog event. — @aventurne ⤷ notes: to celebrate 1989 (tv) we were treated to a fic every day for almost a month from the lovely meisha! i was rereading them to pick one or two for this list, but i couldn't make up my mind so putting the event itselfl! my favourites are suburban legends, wildest dreams, and wonderland. the beautiful implications of kaveh’s missing hairbrush. — @june-again ⤷ notes: such a simple concept, but it is so sweet. i absolutely adore the way this is written, it's so comforting. absence. — @romaritimeharbor ⤷ notes: 10/10 kills me every time. the kaveh!dad au has a special place in my heart, but this fic especially. [name]'s grief is so painful to read, but seeing alhaitham comfort them... it's the best kind of hurt/comfort, where nothing really is okay anymore but you have each other. curtain call. — @rainswept ⤷ notes: my favourite lyney fic from THE lyney writer of all time. and this one. this one is my favourite out of your lyney fics. there's something so foreboding about it, every word feels closer to doom: to the curtain call, as it is titled. i'm never gonna have enough words that describe how well you write characters so i am just going to leave it at oh my god this was amazing. dancing with the fontainians. — @nervocat ⤷ notes: ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE. dancing. fontaine characters. i don't need to explain myself, you had me at dancing. this is very cute and fluffy. the art of war. — @ryuryuryuyurboat ⤷ notes: the first fic i read from the lovely miss yukari! i love this so much, cafe aus are a guilty pleasure of mine and this one was so fun. i'm still giggling at the idea of kokomi just blue-screening after getting asked out.

[thewordworrier]

You Kiss Me In A Way That's Gonna Screw Me Up Forever

Shelly muses about one of her favourite forms of affection.

Word Count: 4,746 words. Warnings: mentions pregnancies, babies, children, alludes to adult activities, but it's more a fluffy, reflection piece. Notes: ~ Title from "Suburban Legends" by Taylor Swift. ~ Inspired by @aug-kissed prompt post here. I don't really think it counts as a submission so to speak, but the prompt post inspired it all. ~ This is a piece in the same vein as ‘Til You Sometimes Come And Tug My Sweater

Finally, and more importantly; I'm gonna dedicate this to my fantastic wife @robinruns - I might've ruined her a bit with the last piece so hopefully this makes up for a bit. Plus, today is her birthday and she's my biggest cheerleader AND MY WIFE so I can't think of anything better than dedicating a sappy fluff piece about her OTP to her <3

~~~

Their first kiss was backstage at Warped Tour. That was their first, proper, full on kiss. The first kiss that meant something. There had been kisses before that though, top of the head kisses and kisses on cheeks, but they had just been a little less meaningful, in the long run.

Shelly was very naturally affectionate. She was more openly affectionate with Frank; she kissed his cheek a lot, but she had been shy about doing the same with Gerard. Much to the vocalist’s disappointment. Still, she had kissed his cheek once or twice, normally as part of a thank you or congratulatory hug. Gerard might’ve kissed her cheek back - especially on her birthday. He’d probably kissed the top of her head once or twice before their first kiss - he liked to do that if he had been hugging her to comfort her; he would bury his nose in her hair and kiss the top of her head as she buried her face in whatever t-shirt he had been wearing. He was pretty certain she’d kissed him goodnight once - kissed his forehead that is. But he’d been so incredibly tired or unwell that day, he couldn’t remember fully.

Before the kiss at Warped Tour, Shelly blew kisses to the whole band all of the time. It was cute and she was never afraid of doing that. They were never afraid of catching the kiss and putting the caught kiss to their chest. And every member of MyChem felt that way; none of them hesitated when it came to catching and returning that affection.

To be honest, even after the Warped Tour kiss, she still kept blowing kisses to the whole band. Even Gerard, because she had to keep up appearances after all. At least while they were still keeping themselves to themselves. They just had to sneak kisses when they could, which… Wasn’t totally difficult with the amount of time Shelly spent doing paperwork in the back office of their bus. When they weren’t on the bus however, it was a little more difficult. It was easy enough for them to not be around when the others were doing sound check - Gerard wasn’t often needed all the time and Shelly could say that she was on calls. They still had to be super aware of Other People, and that’s what Shelly was nervous about. She didn’t mind if the others caught them. And neither did Gerard, really. To be honest, he didn’t mind if anyone caught them - he was proud to be with her. But, he understood that she was nervous about telling the public, and he completely understood her reasons why; they’d talked about it a few times after all. He was more than happy to go at her pace for that.

Besides, the whole ‘sneaking around thing’ could be really hot. He just had to make sure that she didn’t leave any lipstick or lipgloss marks on his face. Or his neck. Or anywhere she might’ve kissed him. That someone else could see, that is. It was okay if it was going to be hidden. Later on, when everybody knew, neither of them minded very much if there had been evidence of them kissing. Shelly didn’t mind if it was obvious she’d reapplied her lipstick, and Gerard certainly didn’t mind if he had remnants on his check, his neck or even on his own lips. He would try and look presentable, of course, but if he missed a bit, it really wasn’t the end of the world. And when they were touring during ProRev, he was less inclined to wipe it off, so there were periods of time where Gerard was walking around with an almost fully intact lipstick mark peeking out from his neckline or something. And Shelly couldn’t even find it in herself to be mad about it. If anything, it felt… Nice to not be so secretive or shy about being affectionate with her partner. It was nice to be a bit obvious about it for once. Even if it was only for this part of the tour.

When they finally confessed to the rest of the band, and actually, once they were comfortable telling the rest of the world, Gerard found himself falling into a habit of holding her hand, as often as he could. He would squeeze her hand gently if he felt she needed a little bit of a reassurance boost. That would always get a small smile from her. If he felt like she needed a bigger boost, he would kiss the back of her hand. This action would almost always, nine out of ten times, earn him a sweet little giggle. And a little blush would appear on her face. She absolutely loved it when he did that; pressing his lips against each of her knuckles in turn before then kissing the back of her hand. It made her absolutely swoon. It didn’t help that he looked like an absolute dreamboat, an actual heartthrob; he looked like he could be in a boyband. A musician who’d be on the posters that adorned the bedroom walls of teenage girls. Teenage girls who would, if they were anything like Shelly when she was younger with her posters of Jon Bon Jovi, would kiss those posters goodnight sometimes. Or blow kisses to them at least.

And he was hers. He was hers to cover in lipstick marks and lipgloss kisses and, a little later on, he was hers to cover in hickies.

He definitely didn’t complain about her doing that. If anything, he loved it when she locked the door behind them, backed him up until he was forced to sit on the edge of a bed so she could climb into his lap, straddle his legs to start marking him up. She always ended up with her fingers in his hair and god Gerard was weak for that, for her. She could do whatever she wanted to him and he did not mind in the slightest. He’d later go on to flash a hickey she’d left on his waistline during one of the Black Parade shows. Actually, he was certain it was during ProRev, as he had acted… Well, Lux had called it slutty, Frank had said that Gerard had been “in heat,” before adding with a grin, “isn’t that Shelly’s job?” He’d nearly gotten smacked for that.

Gerard had seen Shelly’s reaction, actually, when he’d been acting like that, teasingly showing off that mark. At first she’d looked incredibly embarrassed, but, after Gerard had glanced between his woman and some other reactions, that had almost spurred Shelly on a bit, and when he finally got her alone later on, he was more than willing to let her add a new mark to his current collection. That had been the plan anyway, so he had been incredibly surprised when she’d encouraged him to make his mark. It would’ve been incredibly rude for him to refuse the request of his lady though, and he’d said so, which had made Shelly giggle.

As hot as the hickies were, as wobbly as her knees went when he kissed her - when he really kissed her; his arm around her waist holding her tightly up against him, a hand either cupping her cheek or cradling the back of her head - it was like he could never get close enough… As knee wobbling wonderful as those kisses were, nothing really beat the explosions of butterflies and feelings that were created when he kissed the back of her hand.

This hand-kissing habit was not something that he ever dropped or lost. If anything, the longer they were together, the braver he was with it. He’d grab her hand as soon as possible and immediately kiss the back of it, like when he got off stage for the night when she was waiting for them. He liked to wrap an arm around her shoulders and press a kiss to the side of her face when he’d finished a show, but she didn’t always let him do that because sometimes he was a bit sweaty. So he would just stop at grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. Instead of doing that and then pulling her to him.

He’d kiss her hand when she would rest her hand on his shoulder when she stood behind him when he was seated. If he got the chance, he would kiss her hand. Sometimes he would kiss her palm, and that definitely always got a giggle from her.

During ProRev, he would make a point of hugging her or kissing her when he knew that certain people were around. He tried to be sure that he was sometimes dramatically affectionate so that it was obvious that he was being affectionate, so that it was obvious who he was with. Not as dramatic as Frank would be, but Gerard was in his own quiet way. But he was always holding her hand and he would often lift her hand to kiss the back of it, just for the sake of it. The affectionate action could’ve been seen as absentminded, almost, by an onlooker. If it had been during any other time, it would’ve been… Gentler so to speak. But, during ProRev he was definitely more affectionately aggressive. Although, he knew that Shelly was a little shy about too many public displays of affection, so he didn’t go too hard with it. He did really like grabbing her to pull her close to kiss her though.

The older they got, and the longer they were together, the more comfortable they both got kissing a bit more in public. Especially as their relationship progressed - if the rest of the band thought they were bad once they were engaged, once they’d gotten married they were even worse. Gerard would hold out his hand for Shelly to take with a “my lady wife” - and he’d kiss the back of her hand when she took it so he could help her to her feet.

He did this a lot more when she was pregnant, and that brought along a new kind of kiss - baby bump kisses. And Shelly loved those. Over the clothing kisses were nice but the lip to skin baby bump kisses were the best. He spent her whole pregnancy (all of her pregnancies!) kissing her bump - he didn’t restrict himself to a single trimester or anything. From the moment she told him that she was expecting, even if she wasn’t showing, he would be very affectionate with her stomach.

Gerard found himself being cautious (but consistent) with how affectionate and protective he was with her and her body; not just with her first pregnancy, but with all of them. It might’ve made sense if he had just been cautious with their first, but… Nope. It turned out that he was protective and affectionate every time she got pregnant.

He was mostly affectionate with her stomach in private, especially if they hadn’t told everyone/anyone yet, but a little more protective publicly. He wouldn’t kiss her stomach in public, he’d save that for when they were alone together. In public, he would constantly position himself between her and anything or anyone else, or he’d rest his hand on her stomach. As she got bigger, he’d stand behind her and hold her bump for a bit and that would always get him many brownie points. But, he’d do it even if it didn’t - this was his wife after all.

The most “public” he got with kissing her belly (kissing over her clothes at least) was when they were on the bus with the rest of the band, or surrounded by the band after they knew. When it was just them though? He would lift her clothes to kiss her skin all the time. He’d almost always be kissing or touching on her, and she never seemed to mind too much. Especially not when the baby started moving more; if the baby kicked when Gerard was kissing her skin - it was like the baby was (gently) kicking him in the face. And Shelly found that incredibly amusing. Gerard didn’t, every time, but sometimes it was funny. It was definitely funny to Shelly, when she was pregnant with their son (though they didn’t know the gender at the time), that one of the first kicks Gerard felt was essentially to the face.

“Huh!” Gerard had murmured as he gently rubbed his face where he’d been kicked. “I don’t think this baby likes me very much!”

Shelly had just giggled and stroked where she felt the baby moving. “Mm, maybe we’re having a boy, and he’s not happy that you’re getting too close to his mama.”

Gerard pouted. “But you’re my wife! I was here first!”

“Oh psh,” she leant up to kiss away his pout. “You have Melody, we know she’s a daddy’s girl. Let me have a mama’s boy!”

“Hmn!”

“You know you’ll always have the majority of my heart,” Shelly nuzzled him. “But you have to share with the children, and then the rest of the family. But let me have a child who’s favourite is mama.”

“Oh love,” Gerard snuggled with her. “Melody would rather have you instead of me most of the time.”

“She’s such a daddy’s girl though,” Shelly hummed as he stroked her belly. “And I don’t mind, I love that for her. I love that she's getting what I didn’t.”

Gerard held Shelly tighter and buried his nose in her hair, kissing the top of her head. “You didn’t need him, love. You grew up just fine.”

Shelly hummed. “I did have my grandfather after all.”

“Mm hm! And he helped you grow up more than fine,” Gerard kissed her forehead. “You grew up perfectly.”

That was another type of kiss that Shelly loved - the forehead kiss. The forehead kiss made her absolutely melt. She was incredibly fortunate that she was as short as she was, and that her band family were all taller than her. Because it meant that they would often give her a little forehead kiss as a quick and easy way to show her some affection. Either that, or a top of the head kiss, but they tended to opt for the forehead kiss nine times out of ten. And she appreciated that, especially if she had put a bit more effort into her make-up that day. She’d rather head a forehead kiss than a cheek kiss if she had a full face of make-up. (She was always more than happy to have Gerard kiss her make-up off of her later in the evening though.)

Some of her favourite photos from their wedding day was actually a series of forehead kisses; her grandmother kissing her forehead before lowering her veil in the bridal room before the ceremony, her grandfather kissing her forehead before handing her off to her mother, her mother kissing her forehead at the end of the aisle after lifting the veil for her before she passed her off to Gerard. Finally, there was a photo of Gerard kissing her forehead as they were dancing later on that evening.

Her favourite forehead kiss though, was the one she received early one November morning, in their bedroom, on their bed, having just given birth to their first child - their daughter Melody.

As soon as the baby had been put in her arms, the midwives and her mother had left them alone. Gerard returned to her side, settling close enough to wrap and arm around her to hold them both close. He’d then pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, and Shelly was sure that she’d heard his voice catch in his throat when he next spoke to her.

Actually, he’d done something similar after the birth of each of their children. He’d been so gentle and tender with the babies, and with her especially. When it came to their second and third, she was surprised that he still seemed so… In awe. Of how small their children were, of the babies in general, of her and what she’d just gone through. Like it was their first all over again. But, much like with their oldest, each one of their children’s first kiss was a tiny little smooch to the top of their tiny little heads. Because kissing the top of their heads was the safest part of them for some time, and Shelly and Gerard were both so protective of their children. But as soon as it was safe to kiss them properly - smooches. Smooches galore. And not just from their parents.

Shelly made sure to give her children as many forehead kisses as she could as they grew; there were stages where they almost grew out of being snuggly with their mom, but then they’d fall back into it, a bit, quite quickly. Probably because they all saw how affectionate mom was with dad, and how affectionate dad was with mom - and then how freely all their aunts and uncles gave out their affection; to each other, to their (the kids’) parents, and more importantly, to the kids themselves. They quickly learnt that their closest adults were happy to exchange affection, even at their older ages, so it must be okay to be like that younger, too. They learnt that it was just mom and dad who were so relaxed and happy expressing their feelings like that, that it was their whole family, so it must be okay.

That’s why it delighted Shelly when her kids kissed her goodnight. There did come a point where they got too big to be tucked in, much to her disappointment, so when the kids went up to bed first, most of the time they’d go and kiss the top of their mother’s head, or sneak in a hug before heading upstairs. Gerard loved seeing Shelly light up when they did that as they got older. If the kids were going out without their mom, the family without one of them in general, the family would always do, at minimum, hugs goodbye. Kisses between the parents, obviously, but they didn’t force the kids to kiss, ever. They didn’t force them to hug either, really, but they were always more than willing to. Especially when it came to their mother.

Gerard was always willing to hug his wife. Hug her hello, goodbye, good morning or good night. He was definitely always more than willing to kiss his wife for any reason. He would always kiss her goodbye (or ‘see you later’) - always. Even if it took him a few extra minutes to do so. Not kissing her goodbye, not saying ‘I love you’ before leaving was not an option. He would go out of his way to do it. There wasn’t a single scenario in which he would ever, ever NOT kiss his wife goodbye. Or his children, once they had them. Mildly neglecting his wife like that was not something he wanted to do. Plus, and it was a little morbid, he sometimes worried. He wanted to make sure that, if something bad happened, a hug, a kiss and a ‘I love you’ would be his last words and actions for his family.

They never went to bed angry for similar reasons. On the other hand, Gerard and Shelly didn’t really argue too much anyway. They got annoyed with each other, sure. Of course they did. Shelly could be hormonal, Gerard could get tired, and that was before babies. When they had children, they both ended up a little frayed at the edges sometimes - that was normal. But they both made a point to not stay grumpy with each other (and definitely not the children) for long. Most certainly not overnight. They tried to keep that negativity out of bedrooms so everyone went to bed happy and feeling loved and okay. Everyone always went to bed with hugs and goodnight kisses.

Goodnight kisses were some of Gerard’s favourites, actually. Regarding his woman anyway. He loved being able to snuggle up with Shelly, or have her snuggle against him before giving her a little goodnight kiss. If she snuggled up to him, that kiss would start as a forehead kiss, or a top of the head kiss, and when she would (inevitably) tilt her face up a little bit, he’d kiss the tip of her nose and then he would always end up kissing her lips.

It was always a proper, deep kiss full of love. Sometimes it was a sleepy kiss; because sometimes she was tired, especially once they had kids. Sometimes it ended up a bit more hurried, because most of the time they just couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. And when they ended up kissing like that, the majority of the time, that would… Progress. It didn’t normally stop at just a kiss goodnight. Especially during the times before they had kids; while they were partners, then engaged, and then husband and wife. Gerard couldn’t help it; he could barely keep his hands off of her, he could never quite believe that she was his. And that feeling intensified as their relationship “levelled up.” After they got married, he would regularly just stare at her, and when she questioned him, he’d just mummer “I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

She’d never complain though - about the staring, because she was guilty of that too. She couldn’t quite believe he was hers either most of the time. And she wouldn’t complain about the kiss progression either. Especially not if they started spooning. He’d press kisses to her shoulder and her neck before shifting her onto her back so he could do that better, so he could reach more of her skin - because even in the winter she rarely wore full coverage pyjamas. Much to his utter delight. If she reacted favourably, which she did more often than not, and if he felt like being patient, he would take the time to move the shoulder straps to kiss at skin, or to lift the hem of her top to press kisses to anything that was then exposed. He wouldn’t always work on undressing her right away.

And even when he did strip her of whether she was wearing, he still normally took his time to kiss all her favourite spots, and all the spots he favoured too - much to her annoyance, because he was so slow and deliberate about it. And he lingered on his favourite locations a little more than hers, if only because when he kissed the areas he liked the most, she would normally giggle and squirm instead and wriggle and moan. He’d get there eventually, of course he would. And he would always plan on teasing her more than he did, he always planned on really taking his time, leaving trails of nips and kisses down her body. But if she was impatient, then he was worse - he was just always so eager to hear all that praise that he knew would fall out of her mouth - because she would always say that he was so good with what he did with his.

He could behave with his kisses! Of course he could - he wasn’t kissing her in a frisky fashion in public after all. He didn’t kiss her like he was going to pin her against the wall on their wedding day in front of all their friends and family.

That kiss, the one on their wedding day, had been very reminiscent of their first kiss, actually. The main exception had been that they were being watched on their wedding day, and hadn’t been when they kissed the first time. On the other hand, much like their first kiss, the kiss on their wedding day was also kinda an anticipated one.

Their first kiss had been anticipated because the whole darn band, and even Shelly’s family to an extent, knew how they felt about each other and, while her family knew not to push her too hard (she was a little bit stubborn after all), the band had been working on the pair of them to get them to talk to each other about their feelings. Their wedding day kiss - well, that’s the thing you wait for on a wedding day, isn’t it? You want to see the bride and groom tie the knot and seal it with a kiss like that.

Much like their first kiss, Gerard had tucked her hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek in his hand. Much like their first kiss, Shelly had giggled a little and looked up at him with such obvious hearts in her eyes, Gerard had been surprised that he hadn’t noticed it sooner.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he said, only loud enough for her to hear.

She just beamed, and spoke in a similar volume. ”Any time you want.”

His fingertips brushed against her cheek as he hooked them under her chin to carefully tilt her face up so he could lean down and kiss her. Their first kiss as husband and wife! He knew he had to behave with it; her mom, grandmother and grandfather were literally a few feet away from them after all, as were his parents. So he had to be good. Until he got her behind closed doors anyway. But that would have to wait.

Of course, there had been some ‘kiss for the camera’ chances after the ceremony when they’d stepped away to get some bride and groom photos. But those were similar to the little pecks he later got in during their first dance; on her forehead, on the tip of her nose, on her cheeks, and of course, pecks on her lips.

Once the photographer had left to give them some quiet time, just to get a chance to talk to each other for a bit, to be alone properly for the first time all day. Some time just for them; as literally just married husband and wife before they rejoined their guests for the reception.

Gerard shut the door behind him and turned to find his wife (!!!) just… Staring at him, her hands clasped in front of her. When she noticed him looking at her, she beamed at him, shining brighter than the sun had been doing that day. He grinned back at her happily before crossing the room and taking her in his arms, wrapping her in a tight hug as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Oh my god,” Shelly murmured, repeating it softly a few times until he kissed her forehead.

He smiled when she sighed happily. “Better?”

“Mm hm,” she hummed, tilting her face up to nuzzle against him a bit.

“That stop all the noise and commotion?” He asked, keeping one arm around her waist, using his other hand to brush some hair away from the face.

“You know it did.”

“Good,” he pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

Shelly giggled and leant up a bit to kiss him properly.

“Mm,” Gerard held her tightly for a moment. “Your make-up.”

“I’ll fix it after,” she slid her hands up his chest. “Can you please just kiss me properly?”

He hummed a little bit and nuzzled her. “Hmn. Well, I don’t know if you’re going to want to do that as much. You’re stuck with the same kisses or the rest of your life. You don’t wanna wear them out. You’ll get bored.”

“Gerard,” she moved back enough to be able to look at him. “I’ve been ruined for other people since we kissed backstage for the first time that summer. I want to only kiss you for the rest of my life.”

“Are you sure?” He nibbled his bottom lip for a moment. “It’s not too late to change your mind, really.”

“Gerard Arthur Way!”

He swallowed and chuckled nervously. “I’ll take that as a -”

“I’m very sure, thank you very much!” She put her hands on her hips, almost glaring at him for a moment before her expression softened and her arms dropped to her sides. “Unless -”

“Don’t even think about saying it,” he interrupted, knowing exactly what she was going to say. “I am not changing my mind.”

“Well! Neither am I!” Shelly smiled at him before grabbing his tie. “Now, Mr. Way…”

Gerard grinned as she tugged him towards her a bit. 

“Your wife demands a kiss.”

[foxes-that-run]

Music for a Sushi Restaurant

To me, in Music for a Sushi Restaurant Harry says the music industry is fickle and Harry and his muse should not shelve a real romantic partnership for fame. The music video shows Harry is a squid siren who becomes a star attraction in a restaurant as long as he can sing. When his voice fails the industry turns on him and he becomes sushi.

Harry told NPR:

"I was in a sushi restaurant in Los Angeles with my producer and one of our songs came on from the last album, and kind of said like this is really strange music for a sushi restaurant. And then I was like – that would be a really fun album title, but then as the song started being made I kind of just set on Music for a Sushi Restaurant."

To Zane Lowe Harry said that

You put so much love into an industry that is so fickle, that if you're doing well it loves you back, but if you aren't then you're just out. It's understandable for it to be really scary to go away and have no one talking about me, no one cares, I have to go onto social media and remind people I am alive.

He spoke thinking about who he is without fame, needing to find something else to make you happy. He said the best people, 'the unicorns of music' do it and then they are gone, when they come back it matters.

Lyrics

Ba, ba-ba Ba-ba, ba-ba Green eyes, fried rice I could cook an egg on you Late night, game time Coffee on the stove, yeah You're sweet ice cream But you could use a Flake or two Blue bubblegum twisted 'round your tongue

The first verse mixes food references and innuendo. Harry comments his green eyes seeing that this muse is hot.

They have a late night game time is late night making out. Along with a reference to late night coffee, similar to You are in Love, "Coffee at midnight."

To me, the last 3 lines are innuendo for... 'watermelon sugar'. A flake is a chocolate bar that is served in soft serve ice cream. Ahem... 'this is a family blog post'.

I don't want you to get lost I don't want you to go broke I want you It's 'cause I love you, babe In every kind of way Just a little taste Know I love you, babe Ba, ba-ba Ba-ba, ba-ba (You know I love you, babe) Ba, ba-ba Ba-ba, ba-ba

Music for a sushi restaurant explores Harry's relationships in the context of his and his muses Music careers. The muse is someone who's livelihood (going broke) is at risk by dating Harry. Something Taylor has also sung about in Suburban Legends and Slut! In Now that we don't talk "I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost"

In line with the theme of “pay for it” suburban legends says Taylor didn’t come for love and it cost her reputation and bullying from fans and media. Harry is saying he cares more about being together, he doesn’t think they have to choose between career and love.

Excuse me, green tea Music for a sushi restaurant From ice on rice Scuba-duba-do-boo-boo Music for a sushi restaurant Music for a sushi restaurant Music for whatever you want Scuba-duba-do-boo-boo

The line 'Music for whatever you want' to me is a comment that Harry's music has commodified his innermost feelings and in the end they are not treated with care. When talking about the song Harry has said the title came from hearing one of his songs in a Sushi restaurant, implying it was the wrong song/setting pairing. Harry curates his tight discography carefully. To me, verse is sets a chaotic scene of the sushi restaurant where something from Fine Line being used as background music.

I'm not going to get lost I'm not going to go broke Staying cool

In the first pre-chorus he didn't want his love to go broke, (who is seemingly also in the music industry) presumably as he was entertaining giving up his own career to be with his partner, as he has in past songs like "If I could Fly". But now in the second pre-chorus he also won't give up on his love, or go broke himself. Harry is saying they can stay cool and chose both.

He's also cool in Suburban Legends "Flush with the currency of cool" and Gorgeous: "You’re so cool, it makes me hate you so much"

If the stars were edible And our hearts were never full Could we live with just a taste? Just a taste

In 'If I could fly' and Taylors 'The Lakes' they have both sung about giving up their careers to be with their muse. To me the bridge in Sushi is saying, what if they never had enough of being famous, can they just have both? Can they live with just a taste of real love.

He asks if they can live with just a taste of their love, can they get by with only small doses of time together. This is the same idea as JALBOYH's "Just a little bit of your heart x2 / Just a little bit of your heart is all I want"

[starzzach]

i saw this late bc i open tumblr once in a blue moon these days but thank u for the tag @f1-stuff !!

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

i think i've done this once or twice before but i don't remember which ones have been listed or if they've been listed at all etc

arranged charlos

epiphany 3

vamp

wag fic

meow

epiphany 1

there has come a ruler

son of the sea god

suburban legends (from the vault) (charlos version)

half of these have 500ish words in them but. perhaps a day in the future

open to whomever bc i forgot everyones' @ unfortunately

[taylortruther]

what do you think the vault tracks are about?

slut! makes me think it'll be a hard-hitting, sad bop, about her reputation as a slut and how deeply it hurt, how badly she wanted to break free of it, what it means to be a slut, why society deems it bad to be one, and so on. i think there will be a surprising "so what if i am? what's wrong with being a slut?" line. and if shake it off was her trying to "shake off" the slut allegations, slut! will be her darker, private musings on how she can't/won't/shouldn't.

say don't go makes me think sad bop about how she wanted to be chosen before she walked away. she didn't want to be someone's fantasy they let go of (wildest dreams) or someone's second thought (ayhtdws.) she didn't want an apology that came too late (hygtg.) she wanted them to make the choice to keep her before she left at all. i think it might have parallels to hygtg more than anything.

now that we don't talk makes me think it could be about the end of a bad relationship (for some reason, i'm thinking friendship)... and the way she sees her life is better without that person. kind of a ibytam-meets-clean-meets-iftye sort of thing: a song that uses sass to cover up this hurtful relationship she is now moved on from.

suburban legends feels like it'll be a song that defies expectations, as her punny titles often do. so while i want to say it would be a fictionalized love story about a relationship that, against all odds, made it out... i think it might be more of a cynical myth. urban legend implies folklore, mythology, long-lasting stories. suburban legend maybe indicates something smaller, less legendary = a relationship that didn't make it and the world didn't stop for. something expansive and rich ala red, holy ground.

is it over now? might be sad but i think it'll be another expectation-defier and be a bonafide bop! part of 1989's theme of self-discovery, i think it could be a song where she asks herself, am i now ready to grow into the next version of myself? and what if i don't know what that means? think that scene on the beach in the ootw mv, where she comes out of the jungle and touches her own shoulder--and how she said she didn't know what direction she'd take after 1989... what now?

[biblicallyaccurateslut]

I was just listening to suburban legends and, first thing first, what and absolute total banger. I genuinely cannot understand why I did not listen to this song more often. And second, the lyrics are like, really queer-coded.

The one that really called my attention was "1950s gymnasium". Now, if you dont know that, in the 1950s the lavander scare, a process where queer people where maked to be outcast on the society by the goverment, took place. People needed to hide and did not really know who to trust (since the people caught "guilty" were force by torture and manipulation to give names or other queer people), it was really a strugle. She says she is "standing in a 1950s gymnasium" like, trying to survive the scrutiny and navigaiting her life not knowing who to trust about her true self alongside other queer people. All together in one place, practicing not getting caught (and we all now that era was when Taylor was really bad at hiding her alleged relationships with women)

Then, theres the chorus. I didnt come here to make friends, when would you need to clarify that in a straight scenario? Almost never and, based on the lyrics, I dont think thats the case. And then the "you kissed me on a way thats gonna screw me up forever" its really deep if we read it as queer. Taylor queerness was an obstacle to her career, something that should be hidden and secretive because the consecuences of it being know were too catastrofic (like in the 1950s). Her queerness could screw her career and dreams forever, so that kiss (that I think represents her whole relationship with the muse) could screw her up forever, everything she has worked for could go away because of who she was in love with. Yet, when she hold her, it hold her together, so it was worth it.

Now in the second verse, there are (appart from the 1950s lyrics) a few things that caught my attention. First, the fantasy she has about surprising everyone with their mismatched sings, its a fantasy because it cannot happen. Its not posible, that is why it is a fantasy. Second, theres the lyric, "You'd be more than a chapter in my old diaries with the pages ripped out" she says "You'd" as in a way of hoping, like saying: if our love was not something we have to hide you will be more than a than a chapter in my old diaries with the pages ripped out. Now, this thing about ripping of pages of a diary is honestly heartbreaking. She feels so afraid, she needs to hide that much that she even erased any prove of her love from her diaries, one of the most personal things anyone could ever own, were you pour your feeling to yourself and yourself only; she could not even trust her diaries to keep her love secret.

To finish, we have to tie it all to the title: suburban legends. A history that everyones knows yet no one can tell if it is or not true, because there us no proof. It could be real or not, but everyone has heard of it. Taylor saying her and her muse were born to be suburban legends insinuates that the relationships she is singing about was secret, very few people knew that it existed for real (bacause it was not safe) but everyone heard the rumors about it.

Disclaimer: this is just my interpretation and by sharing this I am not saying this is the truth or that Taylor said that to me or something like that. I am just reading and analising the art she putted out there.