#We Sing We Dance We Steal Things

[thepopaddict]

Jason Mraz - We Sing. We Dance. We Steal Things

We Sing. We Dance We Steal Things is the third studio album released by Jason Mraz. The album was released in May 2008 spawning three singles including his worldwide hit “I’m Yours”. The album peaked #3 in three countries: US, Canada, and Australia. In the US and France, the album achieved a 3-time platinum status.

Track List:

Make It Mine

I’m Yours

Lucky (feat. Colbie Caillat)

Butterfly

Live High

Love For A Child

Details In The Fabric (feat. James Morrison)

Coyotes

Only Human

The Dynamo Of Volition

If It Kills Me

A Beautiful Mess

My Top Five Tracks:

5th Place - Butterfly

4th Place - If It Kills Me

3rd Place - A Beautiful Mess

2nd Place - Lucky

1st Place - I’m Yours

Picture Gallery:

#Jason Mraz #Jason Mraz Music #We Sing We Dance We Steal Things #We Sing We Dance We Steal Things Album #I'm Yours #Love For A Child #The Dynamo Of Volition #Lucky #If It Kills Me #A Beautiful Mess #Music #Music Blogger #Music Blog #Pop Addict #2000s Music #YouTube #Pop Music #Folk Music #Blue-Eyed Soul #Blue Eyed Soul Music #Jazz Music

[poprocklyrics]

All I really want from you is to feel me As the feeling inside keeps building And I will find a way to you if it kills me

If It Kills Me, Jason Mraz

#jason mraz #if it kills me #We Sing. We Dance. We Steal Things. #music #lyrics #2000s #2000s music #00s #pop #folk #acoustic

[thistleandwine]

Open up your mind and see like me. Open up your plans and, damn, you're free. Look into your heart and you'll find love, love, love. Listen to the music of the moment, people, dance and sing. We're just one big family and it's our godforsaken right to be loved, loved, loved, loved, loved.

Jason Mraz "I'm Yours" We Sing. We Dance. We Steal Things. 2008

#jason mraz #i'm yours #we sing. we dance. we steal things. #open up your mind #open up your plans #look into your heart #it's our godforsaken right to be loved

[bisexualiteaa]

Them catching you listening to dirty songs 👀

Feat. John "soap" MacTavish, König, Simon "Ghost" Riley

Smutty suggestive themes 18+

John "Soap" MacTavish

Song: Dick by StarBoi3 feat. Doja cat

- You were both on your way to the gym for a good work out, (gym couple goals) when you'd noticed that one of your wireless earbuds had gone missing, but didn't really think anything of it, thinking you must have dropped one on the way out or accidentally left it at home.

- little did you know, Johnny nabbed it when you weren't looking, ever so curious of what you listened to when you were doing your sets and what music motivated you through your workouts.

- he found it rather normal at first, your usual selection of music playing for a bit, so when it played, he was as caught off guard as a deer in headlights. He was weight lifting when he heard the song play, and damn near dropped the weights when he heard it.

- he looked over at you, watching as you worked out your core and legs, mouthing the words as the main chorus hit, hitting your squats to the beat.

"She made some plans on my dick tonight"

"She not with him tonight, she not with Jim tonight"

"She in the gym tonight"

"Workout in that pussy (Ayy)"

"I'm gettin' ripped tonight"

"R.I.P that pussy (Ayy)"

"I'm goin' in tonight"

- his jaw was slack, watching you mouth the words to such a flithy song with a grin on your face, while at the gym of all places, but you were in your own little world.

- when your eyes met his gaze, you were none the wiser, giggling and waving at him happily as he watched you, thinking he was just checking you out or making sure no one was going to try and play moves on you. How could you be so cute and innocent but such a little demon too?

- he definitely needed to steal your earbuds more often, because afterwards, he made sure you made some plans with his dick that night.

König

Song: 34 + 35 by Ariana Grande

- you were all out at the bar drinking together after a rather rough week when the song came on.

- to start, he knew you could sing, you'd been together since before he joined Task Force 141, what he wasn't expecting was you to sing along to a song like this out in public

"Yeah, we started at midnight, go 'til the sunrise"

"Done at the same time"

"But who's counting the time when we got it for life?"

"I know all your favorite spots"

"We can take it from the top"

"You such a dream come true, true"

"Make a bitch wanna hit snooze, ooh"

"Can you stay up all night?"

"Fuck me 'til the daylight"

"34, 35"

"Can you stay up all night?"

"Fuck me 'til the daylight"

"34, 35"

- you sang the whole thing, making the rest of the guys at the table laugh and cheer you on as you sang, seeing as they'd never heard you sing before, let alone a song like this.

- König however? The second he actually added 34 and 35 together in his head, his face burned red, but the fact that you were singing it? Made it so much hotter, and harder to think with the pictures of you doing those things running rampant through his mind.

- "I think that's your que to take her home" Gaz spoke up with a knowing grin, making you chuckle as you watched König sit frozen and looking at you in disbelief.

- you and your comrades took far too much delight in his shy reaction, but when you two made it back home? You both Subtracted the clothes, he divided your legs and helped you add 34+35.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Song: The Summoning by Sleep Token

- you were cooking breakfast when the song came on, usually liking to sing and dance to your music as you cooked.

- Simon was just waking up when he smelled what you were making, and he made it half way down the stairs when your music and the sight of you greeted him.

"Oh, and my love"

"Did I mistake you for a sign from God?"

"Or are you really here to cut me off?"

"Or maybe just to turn me on"

"'Cause these days"

"I would be lying if I told you that"

"I didn't wish that I could be your man"

"Or maybe make a good girl bad"

"I've got a river running right into you"

"I've got a blood trail, red in the blue"

"Something you say or something you do"

"The taste of the divine"

- he recognized it instantly from one of your nights of shared carnal passion, remembering how you melted at the way he moved his hips in time to the beat.

- he quietly treaded the rest of the way downstairs, his one hand wrapping around your throat as the other sat at your hip as he came up to you from behind, taking you off guard. But in the best possible way of course.

- "playing your favorite song, I see?" He asked, making you chuckle as he turned you around and kissed you.

- it wasn't long until breakfast was long forgotten, left to get cold as he bent you over the counter after replaying the song, pistoning his hips into you to the beat.

- and while breakfast may have grown cold, you certainly couldn't have been more of the opposite.

#cod imagine #cod smut #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #könig smut #könig #könig imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #cod x reader

[ugotcooneycrossed]

a christmas education • kyra cooney-cross

a/n: little something based off this since its christmas tmr

you're determined to educate your girlfriend on all things christmas

------------------------------------------------------------the build up to an appropriate time to blast christmas music has you buzzing. having been on the team for two years now- everyone has promptly banned you from anything christmas related until december first. a rule in place after your first year with the team, when you rocked up to training donning a santa hat, singing jingle bells at the top of your lungs, two days after halloween.

so, the moment your alarm sounds on the first of december- you shoot up in bed, in your excitement, you momentarily forget your girlfriend spent the night, and you send her tumbling out of bed.

leaning over the other side you smile at her sheepishly- she's sprawled out on the floor, face hidden in the mass of blankets she brought down with her.

"oops- sorry ky."

she sends you a thumbs up- sitting up fully now. her hair still messy and yawning.

"come on kyra- it's christmas time!"

"it's only the first baby."

"umm yeah- the first of december! now come on-there is so much christmas music we can listen to from now until training."

-

"tell me baby- do you recognise me?! its been a year, it doesnt surprise me!"

"oh god- here she comes."

you dance into the change rooms- invisible microphone in hand. your christmas sweater-complete with flashing lights, bells, and a protruding, squeaky, red nose- jingles as you shimmy your way to your locker.

"merry christmas everyone!"

kyra comes in after you- dragging her feet, she stops at lia, whispering in the older woman's ear.

"why didnt you tell me she's crazy?"

-

you steal the gym speaker before anyone else can-connecting your phone and ignoring the groans that ring out.

"babe! what's your favourite christmas song?"

"uhh- i don't know."

"what do you mean, you dont know?!"

"if im being honest (y/n), i dont know much about christmas stuff."

kyra shrugs-brushing off it off, smiling at you. but when she see's your mouth hanging open- eyes bewildered and unresponsive, her smile faulters.

"babe?"

"what do you mean, 'you dont know much' about christmas kyra!"

"dunno- just never really thought much about it."

"we- i need to fix this."

-

"so, first we decorate the tree- yes i did take everything off, so we can do it all over again together and listen to all the christmas music possible, then we're going to decorate gingerbread houses and watch all the christmas movies."

you smile proudly- standing in front of your now bare christmas tree.

-

"rudolph the red nose reindeer- something, something, some-something."

kyra sings softy under her breath- moving around the tree- hanging the ornaments on gently.

finally, you reach down- handing her the star, and nodding to the top of the tree.

"you want me to put this on?"

"yeah!"

-

"okay- so we'll start with the grinch- and then see where we get from there!"

you watch kyra decorate and watch the movie with a grin- something about kyra loving the grinch just makes so much sense.

-

"done!"

you look up from yours- the final touches perfecting your house, you look at her's, then yours, then back to hers.

she's brandishing it to you proudly- grinning at you with frosting around her lips.

the roof of her house has collapsed in- some of her gummy lollies half bitten and stuck to random parts of the house. most of the frosting probably eaten instead of holding together the walls of her house.

"its beautiful?"

"thanks! i know right!"

-

"now this is my favourite part of christmas."

you take her hand- leading her to your bedroom, the door open.

"your bed?"

"no you idiot- look up!"

"why do you have a random bush-"

"its mistletoe ky."

"ohhh- oh- oh."

you put your hands around her neck- her own wrapping around your waist- and you share a sweet kiss.

"mmh- you taste like frosting."

#kyra cooney cross x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

[haoboutyou]

starlight | choi seungcheol

528 words | fluff

an: it was rare, i was there… mine x starlight? i don’t wanna live forever x dress???? we won the best eras tour surprise songs lineup i believe

“Woah, who is this pretty thing walking in?!”

Seungcheol walked over to you as you shut the front door of your apartment, hair still damp from the shower he had just stepped out of. He watched you removed your boots, the skirt of your glittery dress peeking out of an oversized hoodie he knew you hadn’t left the house with earlier that day.

“Hey!” He almost burst out laughing at the way your usually clear voice came out so deep and husky. You were tired and sweaty, but you had the largest smile on your face as you leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Did you just get home too?”

As you shimmied out of the hoodie, Seungcheol took the opportunity to take in your look of the night: a black glittery dress, stars carefully drawn around your eyes, gems in your hair, and glitter all over your body.

Honestly, you looked like you were wearing a star-studded night sky. You looked like a goddess.

He hummed in affirmation. “I haven’t been home long. The guys begged me to stay longer, but I would’ve missed you too much” he grinned, gathering you in his arms. He pressed a kiss into your hair, not caring that glitter was getting on everywhere he touched. “How was the concert? You sound like you had a lot of fun,” he laughed, eyebrows wiggling.

You scoffed, slapping him lightly. Leaning in, you took comfort in his scent: clean laundry and familiar soap; home.

“I did! We had so much fun screaming and dancing about!” Just like that, your eyes sparkled as you recounted the night to your boyfriend. Lifting up the hoodie, you presented it like a cat showing off her prey. “Isn’t the merch pretty?”

“... Does that mean you’ll stop stealing my hoodies?”

“I’ll never stop doing that and you know it, Cheollie.”

As he guided you into the house, he let you animatedly recall the concert, describing every set in as much detail as possible as you began to remove your makeup. Ever the perfect partner, he wordlessly started taking down and brushing out your hair as he listened to you ramble on.

“...and her dress! Oh my god, her dress! Cheol, it was the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen! Did you see the video I sent you?” You leaned back into his chest, looking up from your vanity chair. You were staring at him like he had just hung all the stars for you instead of carefully de-geming your hair.

He did see the video selfie you had sent. However, rather than focusing on the singer on stage behind you, all he saw was how you were passionately singing along, glowing along under the strobing stage lights.

“Hmm? Of course, love. You’re always pretty.”

“Not me, Cheol,” you chuckled, melting into the way his arm wrapped around you. “How was your night? You did indoor soccer with the guys again?”

“It was fine, but its better now with you.”

“You’re always so cheesy, Cheollie.”

“Its true!” Seungcheol whined, another kiss on the crown of your head.

“Okay, okay…tell me all about it after I wash up?”

“Sounds good to me.”

#seventeen #scoups #svt #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #scoups fluff #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #˙✧˖° aiyu writes ༘ ⋆｡˚ #smth a lil simple this time!

[cowgurrrl]

Tall Boy

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: I didn't go into writing this thinking I would write a little bit of spice so please be nice (poetry fr)

Summary: Fireworks, Uber Calls, Confessions, Oh My! [3.6k]

Warnings: consumption of alcohol, drunken shenanigans, Joel and Tommy being the only Texan men I would trust with my drinks, so much goddamn yearning, oh what's happening with Andie and Tommy??, Joel the Menace makes his return, smutty thoughts and actions (I've made them wait nine chapters they deserve to be a little horny. as a Treat.), getting caught, preparing you for Sleeping on the Blacktop

You don't get to cut loose very often as a teacher. You're almost always worried about lesson plans, grading, assignments, supplies, money (or lack thereof), politics, student's mental health, and a million other things that plague your mind when you try to sleep. Sure, you have a drink or two sometimes, but never anything close to like when you were in college and would end up back at your apartment at four in the morning just to get up three hours later for a lecture at eight. You weren't always going to be a high school teacher, and your past reflects that. And Andie has waited a long time to get a little bit of that spirit out of you again.

New Year's Eve starts easy enough with a nice dinner in downtown Austin with a glass of wine or two with the food. You and Andie got all dolled up in short, curve-hugging dresses and makeup and decided you would take yourselves out if nobody else was going to. "But we're not gonna get arrested like we did in high school, right?" You asked over dinner, but she just shrugged with a mischievous look in her eyes.

"We'll see where the night takes us." 

You bounced from bar to bar, sipping drinks and half-flirting with whoever approached, hoping for a free drink. Lucky for you, nobody is immune to Andie's charm. You lose track of how much you've had to drink once the room starts spinning pleasantly, and you can barely hear yourself over the loud music. You dance with beautiful strangers, sing along to the music, and even steal a cigarette from a willing accomplice outside. It feels good to act like your own age and not everybody's mom. 

By the time midnight rolls around for the Central Time Zone, you and Andie are drunk, leaning on each other and butchering the lyrics to Aud Lang Syne. "We should call an Uber!" Andie yells in your ear, and you nod. You stumble outside and squint at your phone, giggling at your fleeting thought.

"I've got a better idea than Uber."

You and Andie are sitting on the curb outside a gas station right off of Sixth Street, sharing a tall boy and following instructions to "stay put," when his truck pulls up next to you. Joel looks sleepy but not mad, while Tommy looks like he just walked up on a small miracle.

"I thought teachers weren't supposed to be fun!" He laughs as you hand Andie the beer and somehow get yourself to your feet.

"You, obviously, didn't have the right teachers." 

"I reckon so." He says as you dig your keys out of your purse to hand to Joel. He nods gratefully as Tommy helps Andie off the curb. They start talking about something, but you can't hear them over the way Joel's looking at you. Like he did at the gallery, his eyes linger on every piece of exposed skin he hadn't seen before. Something akin to worry clouds his vision, but you catch him looking at your legs and smack his chest. 

"Eyes up here, Mr. Miller," you call him out. "See somethin' you like?" You ask, and he chuckles at how southern you sound when you drink.

"You look very nice." He says, and you smile. For some reason, you step into him and rest your head on his shoulder. He's so warm, and you're tired and just drunk enough not to care about the rules. You feel him freeze for a moment before his hand comes up to your waist to help keep you upright. "Let's get you home, hm?" 

Andie refuses to leave Tommy's side now that they've gotten into an argument about the best musician of all time, and she decides to ride in your car with him while you climb into the truck with Joel. The second you're alone in the car with him, you just start laughing to yourself. Joel laughs a little, too, as he turns the ignition over. 

"What's so funny?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"Just you." You say, giggling a little more. 

"Me?" 

"Yeah, you."

"What about me?" 

"A few weeks ago, I thought I'd fucked you over, and now you're picking me up 'cause I got too drunk on New Year's Eve," it's not funny, but you laugh anyway. "You're a much better person than I am." You say. It's quiet in the truck as your words settle like dust on the dashboard. The only sound is the engine running and the distant sounds of fireworks popping in nearby neighborhoods. He takes a deep breath and rests a hand on your headrest to reach around in the backseat, producing his large jacket and pulling it over your body to protect you from the cold.

"I think you're a good person. Definitely a world better than me," he says as he puts the car in drive. "And, for what it's worth, you didn't fuck me over."

"No?" You ask, and he shakes his head, glancing at you as he pulls onto the road. 

"No." He says, and you hum. You pull his jacket closer to you and cling to the smell of pinewood, leather, and hints of his cologne. If they sold this smell in a candle, you would go into debt just to have it linger in every room. The thought presses on a bruise you forgot was there, and in your inebriated, vulnerable state, you can't stop yourself from staring at his profile as yellow streetlights and bursts of fireworks reflect across his face. 

You study him the way you've been dying to for months. Your eyes study how his eyebrows move with minute emotions and muscles. The way his big nose curves perfectly. The way his jaw clenches and unclenches when he's nervous or unsure what to say. You wish you had a piece of paper and a pencil to sketch his side profile as it comes into view between headlights. You don't believe in muses, but you believe in inspiration. Especially when you look at him.

"Thank you for comin' to get us. I know you'd rather be sleeping." You break the silence, and he nods. 

"I'd rather know you're safe than anythin' else," he says. "How much did you have to drink?"

"I don't know," you groan, absentmindedly rubbing at your face and no doubt smearing makeup. "People kept buying us drinks, and I'm so fucking broke, I'm not gonna say no to a free drink."

"People? What people?" He asks, his interest suddenly piqued. You shrug and put your feet up on the dash. He glances at them but doesn't shove them off. 

"I don't know. People. Men people." You say.

"Different men or the same guy?"

"Does it matter?"

"No," he says a little too quickly. "No, it doesn't matter. As long as you had fun." There's something off about his tone, but you can't place it. At least, not until he puts the final nail in his own coffin. "D'any of 'em try to get your number?" 

"Oh, my God!" You squeal excitedly as you sit up and put your feet back down. "Are you jealous?"

"No! Why would I be jealous? We're friends." 

"Yeah," you scoff. "'Friends.'" You say with intense finger quotes, and he furrows his brows as he looks at you. 

"Are we not friends?" 

"Joel, c'mon. I liked you from the second you walked into my classroom. We were never gonna be just friends." The confession comes loose before you can swallow it back down. It wiggles between you like a fish out of water, and you want to take it back. Not because it's not true but because you weren't ready to tell him. Things just got back to normal after the winter showcase. You're not ready to lose him again. 

"You're drunk," he says softly as if he's reminding himself more than anything. Maybe he thinks because you've been drinking, you don't mean it, but you do. You really, really do. It's too late to take it back, but you can try to bring levity back. You can try to backpedal a little. 

"You're drunk." You counter. He drives in silence for a few more miles, and the rumble of the car and the tequila weighing your mind down lull you to sleep— narrowly avoiding another hard conversation and worst-case scenarios.

You wake up on the first day of the new year hungover, sore, and in a bedroom you don't recognize. Bright sunshine bursts into the room and forces your eyes open in a squint. You almost jump up when you're greeted with a bottle of water and Tylenol on a nightstand that's not the white one on the right side of your bed. You sit up a little and look around at the cozy, if not a little cluttered, room.

The walls and the soft sheets are a nice, comforting blue. A few posters and pictures hang on the walls, and even a landscape painting hangs above the bed. Still, there's a little laundry strewn on the floor, and you recognize the closet full of flannel and button-up shirts next to you. You guess that's where your oversized, burnt orange Texas Longhorns shirt and black sweatpants came from. Snippets from the car ride and stumbling into the house fill your mind, and you groan in embarrassment. 

You remember Tommy calling Joel and telling him Andie got sick on the way to your apartment, and he didn't want to drop you off alone where something could go wrong. They offered to take you to their house, and in your drunk and stupid state, you said yes. You remember gentle hands holding your face as a cold, wet makeup wipe swiped across your skin, and thank God for that. Otherwise, you would feel worse than you already do. You remember hearing Andie and Tommy's voices outside the bedroom door, but you don't remember how you got into the room or the shirt. A light knock on the door pulls you out of your memories, and Joel walks in with a cup of coffee and a sympathetic smile.

"Good mornin', sunshine," he says, the right amount of mocking. "How're you feelin'?"

"Like I got hit by a truck." You say, and he laughs as he hands you the mug and sits on the bed. 

"I figured. I've got breakfast goin' downstairs. You need all the food you can get to soak up the alcohol." He says as you take a sip of the bitter coffee. You sigh into the cup at the (somehow) magical effects it has on your body, and he smiles. "That good, huh?"

"Yes, thank you," you say. "Thanks for everything. I know it probably wasn't fun trying to wrangle us last night."

"You weren't lyin' when you said how much trouble you and Andie got into together." He says. You think you could crawl into a hole and die at the embarrassing gaps in your memory.

"Oh, God. What happened?"

"Well, first of all, she wouldn't stop talkin' to you bout Tommy even though he was right there, but it was all good things. Then, you almost fell asleep on the couch after demanding’ Whataburger, and I had to carry you up the stairs. And then, Andie locked us in here and told us to figure our shit out."

"I'm gonna fucking kill her." 

"I'm pretty sure she almost fell asleep in the hallway waitin' us out. Tommy parked her in Sarah's room and slept on the floor in case she needed somethin'." He says. You knew the Miller men were kind and selfless, but this is a whole new level. You owe them a fruit basket or your kidney or something. You rub your temples and take another sip of coffee before taking two Tylenol. 

"And where did you sleep?" 

"You don't remember?" He asks, chuckling. At least he's not mad. If he was, you think you'd climb out the window and walk all the way home. "I tried to sleep on the floor, but every time I tried to lay down, you laid down next to me. You wouldn't even close your eyes unless I was next to you, so I built a little pillow wall and slept in bed." 

"Are you serious?" You ask, and he nods. You can vaguely recall getting into a hushed argument with him about kicking him out of his own bed and falling asleep against his chest, vindicated and content. You groan and bury your head in your hands. "Please tell me Ellie isn't here."

"She spent the night at Dina's house, none the wiser." He says. You almost say something about Ellie spending a lot of time with Dina recently, but keep your mouth shut. If something's going on, you doubt she wants her teacher to snitch on her to her dad.

"I'm so, so, so sorry, Joel."

"Don't be sorry. It was funny. I didn't know teachers partied so hard," he says, and you laugh a little. "Besides, it made me feel better knowin' you two were safe." You look up as he speaks and take a deep breath at how sweet he is. He smiles, and you scoot close enough to him to cuddle into his side. He welcomes you by tucking you under his arm and resting his head on yours. 

Your head is pounding, and your stomach is in knots, but the coffee and his presence help ground you. His hair is a little damp and smells like Ellie's shampoo. The thought of them sharing products makes you smile, and you rest a hand on his chest. Worn in, soft fabric cushioning your fingers as they rest over his heart. 

"Can we add this to our list of inappropriate secrets?" You ask quietly, and a puff of air leaves his nose in a laugh. He lifts his head from yours and looks down at you fondly. He doesn't look particularly well-rested, and you're sure that's your fault, but you also can't get over how beautiful he looks in the morning. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, his beard is a little unruly, and his shirt is crumpled, but the light streaming in makes his brown irises look amber and the grey in his hair silver. He's beautiful like this. He's beautiful all the time. 

"Course," he mumbles as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. His hand lingers on your jaw, fingers caressing your cheek, and your hand slides from his chest to his shoulder to keep him close. "D'you get a New Year's kiss, at least?" He asks. You purse your lips as you stretch your memory back.

"'M pretty sure I kissed Andie." 

"Nice." He says, too impressed, and you push at his shoulder. 

"What about you? You get a New Year's kiss?" You're walking the wrong side of the line, and you both know it. He smirks anyway.

"I was a little busy takin' care of these two drunks." 

"One time," you say. "I go out one time, and suddenly I'm a drunk." 

"That's all it takes." He shrugs, and you laugh.

"Apparently," you say. "Well, I'm sorry again. Didn't mean to ruin your chances of getting kissed." 

"Nah, you didn't."

"No?"

"No," he shakes his head as he leans in and kisses you, tilting your face up to him so he can control the angle. Two months. It's been two months since you last kissed Joel, and you can feel all sixty days of want in the searing kiss. He's not shy like he might've been in the past— waiting for you to make this first move— he's commanding and steals your breath out of your lungs when his tongue slides against yours. It's different, and so, so good. You wind your hand into his hair and lightly tug when his hands roam down your body and grab at your hips. You take the signal and throw a leg over his hips to straddle him, gasping when he presses into the small of your back and pushes you against him. 

Now, you're awake. Fuck the coffee.

You're dizzy when his mouth dips from your lips to your jaw, biting the sensitive skin there, and his hands wander below the fabric of your (his) shirt. His fingers are soft when they graze against your sides, skimming up your body until he squeezes your breasts. Both of you groan as you arch into his touch. He's barely touched you, and you're already soaked.

"Missed you." He whispers as his lips blaze a trail down your neck while his fingers lightly pinch your nipples. You grind your hips into his, desperately searching for friction, and he hisses like you hurt him. His hips canting up reassures you you didn't. "You gonna disappear on me again, sweetheart?" It doesn't come across as mean, but there's a new authority in his voice that you're not used to hearing. The dam isn't just broken. It's in fucking shambles at the bottom of the river. 

"'M not going anywhere." You breathe. "I promise." You think you mean it. You think you want to mean it. You think you're done caring about optics and what's "right." You want him, and based on the way the bulge in his sweatpants prods under you, he wants you too. He pulls away from your neck to kiss your lips again, wraps an arm around your back, and lays you on your back on the mattress. 

You tug at the back of his shirt and greedily let your hands roam over his chest and back when he throws it across the room. He's all broad shoulders and strong arms, and you can finally feel the muscles and warm skin you've thought about since way before that night in the bar. When his fingers trace patterns into your inner thighs, you moan into him and grip his forearm hard. "Joel, I need-"

"What? What d'you need, baby? Tell me." He asks, his fingers dancing closer and closer to where you want him. It'd be so easy for him to slip his hand under the waistband of your sweatpants and feel how desperate you are, but he hesitates. "C'mon, use your words."

"Fuck, I-" You start to say when the door creaks open.

"Joel, do you want— woah!" Tommy yells before you hear the door slam shut again and his feet rushing down the hallway, no doubt to tell Andie about what he just saw. Joel groans and buries his face in your neck, and it takes everything in you not to laugh. 

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill him." 

"I'll help you hide the body." 

"Finally!" Andie yells from downstairs, and this time, you do laugh. 

"They're never gonna let us hear the end of this, are they?" You ask. 

"Probably not," he says. He's unmoving over you, and you sigh as you kiss his cheek. He lets his body weight drop into you, and you play with his hair while he rests his head on your chest. His hands rest under your body and press you closer to him, smothering you together. His broad shoulders expand and contract with every breath, and you count them as you scratch his scalp. "I have to go get Ellie soon." He mumbles into your chest. 

"Then, we should probably go." You say. He groans and kisses your sternum before pushing onto his forearms. He kisses up your chest to your neck, forcing a shaky breath from you when he nibbles at your earlobe. 

"I want you in my bed all the time," he whispers in your ear, making you shiver. "Wearin' my clothes, makin' all those pretty sounds, not havin' to worry bout Tommy or anybody." His chest rumbles against yours as he speaks; all you can do is squirm under him. His fingers picking up their previous patterns don't help either. "Wanna feel you come over and over again. On my fingers. On my tongue. On my cock. Wanna make you feel so good." His middle finger rubs against your clothed pussy, and your nails dig into his shoulder as you try to suppress a surprised sound. You're so wet, you'd be surprised if he couldn't feel the damp spot on your underwear. "You gonna let me make you feel good, baby? Huh?" He bumps your nose with his, subtly asking for attention when all you can focus on are the lazy circles he's drawing over you. 

"Please." You whimper, but you're not sure what you're begging for.

"I know, I know," he murmurs. You know you can't get away with anything with Tommy and Andie waiting for you downstairs but you want him to make good on his promise. You want him. You have for so long it's burning you from the inside out. And yet, he pulls away from you with a smirk. "I'm gonna take all the time in the world with you next time." He says as he rolls off of you, and you're left lying there, shocked and flushed.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You ask, sitting up, and he just shrugs as he pulls his shirt over his head. 

"I've gotta go get Ellie."

"Don't pull the Dad Card right now." You sound a little petulant, but honestly, you don't care. He worked you up to just walk away? This is cruel and unusual punishment. He presses his knee into the mattress and leans over you again, kissing you chastely.

"You'll have to get me back later." He says, and you sigh, shaking your head at the amused look in his eyes.

"I'm gonna make you wish you were dead."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

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#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #the last of us au #tlou au #joel miller au #the last of us fic #the last of us series #the last of us hbo #joel miller series #joel miller angst #joel miller hurt/comfort

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 4: These Words Are All I Have So I'll Write Them]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, violence, serious injury, alcoholism/addiction, prostitution, references to sexual content including noncon (18+), pregnancy, methods of ending pregnancy, speaking High Valyrian at a third-grade level, no Larys Strong this time yay!!!

Series title is a lyric from: “7 Minutes in Heaven” by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Dance, Dance” by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 6.7k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @yawneneytiri @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰💜

She gives you a new dress to replace the one that is sopping wet and algae-stained from your tumble into the fishpond: a deep gory maroon, low-cut across the chest, a slit up to your thigh. It is the most revealing thing you have ever worn. You keep crossing your arms and tugging at the fabric, trying to make it cover more of you, incurably out-of-place in this room, this world. The madam is seated at her desk and jotting down notes in a thick, ancient book. When you steal glimpses of her words, they are messy and often misspelled, the script of a child. If you had parchment, you could write a letter. Your hands itch for it; your fingers flex to grasp nothing.

A woman glides into the madam’s bedroom—a tiny kingdom where no men exist—and hands you a cup of tea. She appraises you with a swift, intrigued glance; her hair is long and coppery red, her belly rounded out. She is perhaps five months pregnant. The madam casts her a stern look and the woman dutifully vanishes. “What is this?” you ask as you take a sip. It’s hot, lemony, bitter. “Moon tea?”

The madame chuckles. “No. We have moon tea for if that doesn’t work.”

Because I’m going to be doing things that could result in a child. Because I’m going to be violated here, again and again, I who was so terrified of being possessed by even one man.

The madam says: “Can you play any instruments?”

“No.” You draw into yourself—eyes and ears and the pores of your skin—every detail, every tapestry on the walls and creaky board of the floor and shift in tones of voice, anything that could help you escape. You are a traveler in a strange land. You have no map, no compass. You can bandage burns and set bones, but you know nothing about brothels in the suffocating, squalid entrails of a city.

“Sing or dance?”

“Not well at all.”

A furrowed brow. “Can you sew?”

“Barely.”

“Cook?”

“No.”

Disappointment, palpable and shaming. “Can you read or write?” the madam asks, scratching disorderly lines of black ink into her book.

“Both.”

Now she has perked up a bit. “How well?”

“Fluently.”

A raised eyebrow. This is unusual. “Any other languages besides the Common Tongue?”

“No.” Then you add desperately: “But I know about medicine! I’ve studied herbology and wound tending, and I can act as a healer for the women here, I can—”

“You could, perhaps,” the madam says, smiling with sad, aged patience. “But that is not what the prince regent intended.”

You stare at her, aghast, petrified. There is no swaying her. You consider revealing yourself and attempting to bribe her with the renowned Celtigar fortune, but this is inadvisable. It is one thing to be raped; it is another to be raped and then murdered and then probably raped again. The Greens are the true heirs of the throne in this establishment, which means Rhaenyra and all those who aid her are traitors. Already you have overheard the women gossiping about King Aegon. They do not appear to fear or dislike him; on the contrary, they fret over him like anxious mothers or wives. They hope his recovery is quick. They are grateful he survived. They wonder if he will return to visit them again soon. They do not seem to be under the impression that he is vile, amoral, cruel, a threat, a curse. When they look at him, white hair and ocean-deep eyes, they do not see a monster.

“You aren’t bleeding currently,” the madam continues.

“How do you know that?”

“You didn’t ask for a rag when I gave you that dress.” New words springing to life on those yellowed pages, pricelessly valuable and yet forbidden to you. “Ever borne children?”

“No.”

“Are you a maiden?”

You can’t decide how to answer; you aren’t sure if either reply will help you. You settle on the truth. “Yes,” you admit tentatively.

“Good. We can charge more for you.”

“Wait, no, I’m not. I’ve been with lots of men.”

The madam laughs, shaking her head as she makes her notes. Her necklace and earrings jangle merrily, too large, glinting and gaudy. “Have no fear. I will make it easier for you. I will find a slight, young lad to be your first. He won’t be too big, he won’t last too long. And if you’re fortunate, he’ll even be handsome!” Her prominent, pale eyes go distant; she is orchestrating myths, the trade she deals in like some women sell silk or wool. “A soldier home on leave, perhaps. Looking for a taste of dwindling innocence before he marches off again to be butchered by a Costayne or a Darklyn.” She snaps back into the room. “It will be over before you know it. You’ll be more underwhelmed than anything else, trust me.”

You picture it, red, rust, rage, resignation: the impossibly large stain of blood on your cousin Theodora’s bedsheets. “What if I’m frightened? What if I cry?”

The madam shrugs. “Some men like that. It will convince them of your inexperience.”

You gape at her. “That’s appalling.”

“That’s the world we live in.” She sets down her quill, closes the book, and stretches out her back as she stands. “Follow me. I’ll show you around.”

There are rooms where the women sleep, rooms where they get ready, servants to arrange their hair and moonlight-silver mirrors and a cluttered array of cosmetics and closets bursting with sheer, sensuous gowns. As the madam momentarily diverts her attention from you to scold a servant for knocking over a tin of rouge made from ground cinnabar, you swipe a small stick of kohl eyeliner off a table and tuck it into the pocket of your dress. You might be able to write with it.

What is that pocket supposed to be for? A vial of perfume to mask the sweat of men, mint leaves to clear away their taste? A cloth to mop their mess off your thighs? You shudder, then trail after the madam as she floats out into the hallway.

There are bedchambers, six or seven of them, but the doors are shut. You can smell incense burning; you can hear moans and wet slaps of flesh beneath plucks of harps played by servants. Outside there is a courtyard where women sit on the stone rims of fountains simpering and stroking men’s beards, necks, chests, thighs. It is surrounded by a wall nine feet high. Armed guards pace through the maze of rose bushes and elm trees and proliferate quilts of ivy, keeping uninvited men out, keeping women in. They are protected from their own ambitions of some other kind of life. They are prisoners. The sky above them is a mosaic of spilled wine and gold; the sun is setting.

Downstairs in the kitchen, the madam leaves you in the care of the same woman you saw earlier, long coppery ringlets and a bastard in her belly. The dress she wears is a cleaner red than yours, not blood that has dried and flaked but a heart that’s still beating. She is chopping vegetables and tossing them into a pot boiling over the fire. The long wooden table is strewn with carrots, onions, potatoes, leeks, mushrooms, fresh dark green herbs.

She flashes you a wily smile. “Our cook dropped dead last week. We’ve yet to procure a new one, so I’m making myself useful. All the house laments.”

You laugh and join her, though you don’t know the first thing about working in a kitchen; you pick up a knife and begin slicing through a carrot. It takes more muscle than you anticipated.

“On a cutting board, you idiot,” the woman says kindly, passing you one.

“Sorry. I’ve never cooked before.”

“What? Never?” Her auburn eyebrows spring up. “Where did you come from?”

The cliffs, the sea, salt and waves and mist. “The Crownlands.”

She is studying you with interest as her blade hovers over a half-chopped leek. “Were you a handmaiden to a lady there, or…?”

“It doesn’t matter. Whoever I was, I’m not the same person anymore.”

“No,” the woman agrees softly. “None of us are, I suppose.”

You glance down to her belly. You don’t wish to offend her, but you are curious.

“Go on,” she prompts. “You may inquire. I am well aware of my predicament whether you speak of it aloud or not, I assure you.”

“Did the moon tea not…expel the child?”

“No,” she sighs as she resumes hacking away at the leek. She speaks with vague, weary fondness. “The lemonweed tea did not prevent it, the moon tea did not kill it. I nearly died of fever and vomiting myself, but the child held on. It’s alive in there, I can feel it kicking sometimes. A fierce little thing.”

You nod, still gazing at her belly, undeniable evidence of the act that built it. The copper-haired woman is almost certainly younger than you, and yet she knows exactly what it means to be opened by a man, pillaged, conquered, used, left. This time tomorrow, you will know it too. “The madam let you stay?”

“Not very enthusiastically, but yes. I cook, I clean, I do the shopping in the market. She does not fear letting me venture out into the city. She knows I have nowhere else to go. I only have to entertain clients if they ask for a pregnant woman. Some men have a particular liking for that, you know.”

You did not know. “Right.”

“Besides, there might be some advantage in it for the madam,” the woman tells you. She grins. “When the child is born, there’s a chance it will have the silver hair of a Targaryen. Then the madam could approach Otto Hightower for a reward of some sort, money, protection. Royal bastards have never been more valuable. Little princes are dying left and right.”

“King Aegon’s?” you say numbly. “The child could be his?”

“Yes, obviously. Who else?”

So Aemond does not frequent this place as a customer. You wonder how he met the madam.

Aegon was here before the war began, you think, blood hot in your face, your guts twisting and nauseous. How many women know what he feels like, tastes like, sounds like when he is moaning in pleasure instead of agony?

The copper-haired woman is staring at you quizzically. You have to say something. You hear your voice like the distant cry of a crow through fog: “What was he like? The king, I mean.”

She considers this. “Drunk. Sad. But perfectly pleasant. I wouldn’t mind serving him again. He’s well thought of on the Street of Silk. I do hope he recovers. I think Rhaenyra would hang us all from a gallows. She knows Daemon has a wandering eye, and she’s not the type of wife to look the other way.”

You are trying to clear it out of your skull, like a room full of smoke: Aegon was here, Aegon was here, Aegon was here. “When you met with him, it was in this brothel?”

She hesitates. “Mostly.”

Mostly…? “Have you been inside the Red Keep?”

“Once. Ages ago. There is a network of secret passageways beneath the castle and behind the walls. The king has been known to use them for…well. You know.”

It should not hurt you. You’ve spent all your life listening to the tales of his failings. Yet it does, more than you thought was possible. You’ve never wanted a man before. But you want Aegon now. You do, you must, otherwise you wouldn’t be so pained by the thought of others touching him. You wonder if he feels the same way about you, if he ever lies awake at night with his stomach in knots over your nameless betrothed.

You try to focus on this moment, this kitchen, this copper-haired woman.You need to find a way out of here. “So the madam will decide what happens to your child once it’s born.”

“Of course,” she replies simply.

“You don’t want to keep it yourself? You are not attached to it?”

The woman is suddenly serious, quiet, melancholy. “I have no choice in the matter.”

She’s my chance. She’s my redeemer. “Can I ask your name?” you say.

“What my family named me is of no account. As you said, we’re not the same people anymore.” She smiles, warm like embers once again. “People here call me Autumn.”

“Autumn,” you echo. A woman with hair the color of crisp, dying leaves, the color of a dying world hurtling towards winter. “I think I can help you. You and your child, no matter its parentage.”

She does not want to believe you—hope is a dangerous, taunting creature, one that builds a home in your ribcage and then taps taps taps its claws along the ladder of bones—but she does. You can see it flickering in her small, upturned hazel eyes. “You…what?”

“When you go to the market, do you take a list with you? Of items that you require?”

“Yes,” Autumn replies, puzzled. “The madam always gives me one.”

“Do you have any parchment here in the kitchen?”

Autumn shakes her head. “The madam keeps it in her room. Shall I ask her—?”

“No,” you say. “Definitely don’t ask for any. Is there an old list lying around, perhaps?”

“Um, let me see…” Autumn rummages around the table; onions go rolling, leeks are flung aside. She snatches a tattered, folded sheet of parchment from under a pile of potatoes and surrenders it to you. “Here. This is the one from yesterday.”

You open it and lay it flat on the table. Sure enough, there is a list written in black ink; but not in the Common Tongue. The items are sketched. There’s a carrot with a cloudlike plume of fronds atop it, a bee (meaning honey, you imagine), a pig and a chicken, a round bottle with a heart drawn above it. Perfume? you guess. “These are pictures.”

“Well, of course. I wouldn’t be able to read it otherwise.”

You take the stick of black kohl out of your dress pocket and flip over the list. The back is blank. You write as Autumn watches, baffled, fascinated.

Your Grace, you begin, and then scratch it out. You start again.

Aegon,

Aemond has imprisoned me in a brothel. He knows the madam (middle-aged, brown hair, clever).

“What is this place called?” you ask Autumn.

“The Pink Pearl,” she says.

Autumn works here, if you recall her. She says the establishment is known as the Pink Pearl. Please send someone to rescue me at once. I am to be put to work soon, and I am afraid.

You pause. What will he have been told? What will he think of you now?

I beg your forgiveness for my deceit. I did not mislead you out of malice. I knew you needed help, and that I would not be able to provide it if my true identity was known. I have not done anything to undermine your cause. I have not written a word to my family. I assume they now believe me to be dead. I do not want this, but it is a sacrifice I have made so that I can continue to serve you.

Please help me. Please allow me to return to the Red Keep.

My name was a lie, but none of the rest was.

Angel

“You’re highborn, aren’t you?” Autumn says, hushed, awed. “You must be, to write like that.”

“Yes. And I am a friend of King Aegon. If he knows I’m here, he will pay for me.” You don’t know that for sure, but you have hope, that risky rattling beast.

“He will pay to fuck you, you mean?”

“I believe he will buy my freedom.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Then I will slit my own throat with one of these knives. “It’s better for everyone if he does.” You fold the parchment closed and then give it to Autumn. She takes it, perplexed but willing. “I cannot leave this place. But you can. I need you to get that letter to the king. You know the way to the Red Keep; you have been inside these secret passageways. Hand the letter to him directly if possible. If you are intercepted, ask to see the Dowager Queen Alicent or…” You debate this. Sir Criston is closer to Aemond than Aegon, but you believe the opposite to be true for the youngest Targaryen brother. “Or Prince Daeron. Tell them that the letter must be read by the king immediately, and by him only. If he is resting, he must be roused. If he is speaking with someone, he must be interrupted. Explain this and then leave. And do not allow the prince regent to see you.” Aemond’s words blow through you like a cold wind: If she tries to escape, kill her.

“This is a difficult task,” Autumn says uncertainly, the folded square of parchment disappearing into the bodice of her gown. “I cannot promise you anything. But I can try.”

“If I am rescued, I will see that you and your child are provided for. You will have your own home, one far, far away from here. You will never have to answer to the madam again. You will never have to lie with a man who is not of your choosing. Your life will be your own.”

She stares at you, dazed and wonderous. She cannot even fathom this, but she knows she wants it. You’ve begun to feel that way about certain things as well. When Autumn speaks, it is in little more than a whisper. “I would like that very much.”

“You will have my most fervent gratitude.”

“I will depart tonight after supper. I will tell the madam that I am craving apple cake from a street vendor.”

“Thank you, Autumn,” you say, lips trembling as they curl into a smile, tears blurry in your eyes.

She points to the stick of black kohl you’ve used as a makeshift quill, smirking. It’s still clutched in your dominant hand. “You’d better hide that before people start showing up looking for soup.”

Hours later, you are trying to fall asleep in a room you share with half a dozen other women who are not presently working, beds so close together they almost touch, soft snores, mattresses shifting when people roll over, a thin wool blanket pulled all the way up to your chin.

Aegon will read the letter. Aegon will send someone to rescue me.

In the darkness, your hands wander down to your belly, your hips, lower. Skating over your white silk nightgown, your fingertips press cautiously at a place where you sometimes feel an indistinct, uneasy sort of pleasure. You rarely touch yourself; you cannot do so without remembering that your body is not your own and never has been. But now, for the very first time and without any premeditation, you picture Aegon—his murky oceanic eyes, his crooked grin, his hands, his bravery, his gentleness, his shock of white-blond hair adorned with that single tiny braid—and instantly your once-ambiguous desire sharpens, strengthens, is accompanied by a wetness that you can feel blooming warm and needful beneath your nightgown.

But it’s not going to be him. It’s going to be some stranger who doesn’t know me and doesn’t want to.

You roll over onto your side and thrust your hands under the pillow, squeeze your eyes shut until they ache, try not to hear the moans that creep through the walls like dark veins of blood poisoning.

~~~~~~~~~~

All day you wait for someone to cross through the doorway of the brothel to claim you, a guard, a messenger, Daeron, Criston, anybody. But no one does. The women here keep strange hours: late to bed, late to rise, breakfast at noon, lunch at four or five, supper long after nightfall. You pick listlessly at a breakfast of biscuits with butter, honey, and blackberry jam, bacon, weak wine, pomegranate juice, lemonweed tea to prevent an unintended child like Autumn’s.

“I was stopped by a guard just outside the Red Keep,” she mutters to you in a stolen moment, huddled together at the end of a hallway by a window that opens out onto the courtyard. “They agreed to let me see Prince Daeron. He took the letter and said he would deliver it. That’s all I could do. I hope it’s enough.”

I hope so too, you think to yourself as you thank her, marveling with brick-heavy horror at how all the Valyrian ancestry and riches in the world cannot save you from the fate of being born a card for others to play, trade, bet on, use until it is worn and faceless. I hope so with everything I’m made of.

The other women take you with them to the bathhouse down the street, and in the labyrinth of sweltering pools and swirling steam you scrub yourself all over until your skin is tender to the touch. You use perfumed soaps and luxurious floral oils, not for healing but for vanity, so strange men will imagine you to be an intoxicating fantasy, so any human imperfections can be ignored. You pluck some stray hairs and trim others. You inspect each other for bruises or scratches or bitemarks that will need to be covered. No one mentions how they got them. Everybody knows.

Back in the brothel, the women show you how to wear your hair and do your makeup: black kohl on the eyes, beeswax dyed with berry juice on the lips, powder on the face to even out your complexion. Servants flit around fussing over hairstyles and switching ripped seams on dresses. Your silk gown—the one you will be raped in—is a soft, helpless, feminine lavender. You are shown to a bedchamber: flickering candles, a mountain of pillows and jewel-toned throw blankets, harp music and fresh air breathing in through the windows. You sit on the edge of the bed wringing your hands. You are waiting to be rescued. You are waiting to be harmed.

The door opens, and he enters. The madam was truthful: she has found you a slight, benign-looking young man. He smiles shyly, clanging in his light armor. He is indeed a soldier on leave from the front. He wears the crest of his family as the clasp for his cape, a white shield with a black cross. He is a Norcross, the same as the dying boy you were tending when Aemond pulled you off the battlefield at Rook’s Rest. How easy it would have been for you to not be here right now; a difference of a few minutes, a few meters, and Aemond never would have found you.

“Hello,” the man says pleasantly. He is yanking off his boots.

“Hello.” You are still sitting on the edge of the massive bed, big enough for four or five occupants. This is not a coincidence, you’re certain. But that will come later, once you have been sufficiently broken in. Your stomach lurches; you try not to show it.

Now he is taking off his cape. “You’re nervous,” he observes. There is a pitcher of wine on the table in the middle of the room. He pours two cups and hands one to you. You take it—intending to be dignified, ladylike—and then gulp it down. The Norcross laughs. “You needn’t fear me, maiden,” he says. “I am here for pleasure, not pain. I have paid a considerable price for you. You are a piece of treasure, a rare gem, and I will handle you accordingly.”

Then he reaches out to stroke your cheek, and something in you shatters, splits open, screams. I don’t know this man. I don’t trust this man. You shrink away from him and retreat to the center of the vast bed. The Norcross blinks at you, a little amused, a bit bewildered. “Sir, you have stumbled upon a great opportunity,” you tell him. “I am no ordinary woman.”

“No?” he says. But he is smirking beneath gleaming eyes, like this is a joke; and he is removing his armor as well.

“I am here as the result of a dreadful misunderstanding. You see, I have actually already been claimed. There is another man who has the right to take my innocence if he so chooses.”

“Oh?” the Norcross says. He is unbuttoning his white cotton shirt. “Who?”

“King Aegon.”

He throws his head back and guffaws, dark hair long enough to cover his ears and brush against the nape of his neck. “This is a very charming jape. Me? Getting to deflower the king’s chosen whore? Yes, yes, very good. Delightful. Delicious.” He crawls onto the bed; the mattress shifts beneath your palms. A cold sweat slicks across your skin. Goosebumps rise on your arms. He doesn’t hear me. He doesn’t want to.

“I’m not joking,” you implore the Norcross. “I am well-acquainted with King Aegon, he cares for me. I was brought here by mistake and against his knowledge. If you assist me in returning to him, I’m sure you will be generously compensated for your trouble—”

The man’s hand juts out, snags in your hair, yanks and tears at it. You yelp and struggle as he wrestles you down onto the mattress and settles his weight on top of you. “You’re mine, all mine,” he growls, smiling, playing along with what he has chosen to believe is a fantasy. “Not the king’s whore. The king has plenty of those already, he probably has thousands. But you’re all mine.”

“Get off me,” you order him, as if you are still the daughter of one of the wealthiest houses in Westeros and not some powerless, penniless woman imprisoned in ornate walls and perfumed silk; and isn’t this where you always would have ended up anyway? Flinching on some stranger’s bed as he tried to claim you, subdue you, force pieces of himself inside you?

“I will show you, maiden. The king is a cripple now. He could not satisfy you anyway. I will give you what he could not. And I’ll give it to you more than once, if you ask nicely.” He presses his lips to yours, a sickening mockery of a kiss, all flesh and no heat. He is wearing only his trousers; they could be gone in an instant. He is tugging your sleeves off your shoulders to get to your breasts.

“Please don’t do this, please stop, I’ll give you anything—”

“Everything I want is right here.”

Just let him do it, you think. I can’t leave this place, I can’t fight him off. There’s no way out. Just let him do it, and live to see if freedom will arrive tomorrow.

Aemond’s words fill your skull like flashes of lighting: If she tries to escape, kill her.

The Norcross man is pulling off his trousers. It strikes you like a closed fist: the terror, the injustice, the rage. You swing at his face, your knuckles rapping against his cheekbones. “Get off of me—!”

There is a tremendous fracturing noise, and at first you think the man must have snapped one of your bones, your radius or your tibia or your clavicle. But no: it was the bedchamber door being thrown open so violently it hit the wall behind it and cracked down the middle. And now there are footsteps, and now there are guards pouring into the room, and now the point of a blade bursts through the Norcross man’s windpipe splattering blood across the bed, the walls, the wood boards of the floor. You are shrieking; scarlet rain peppers your face, chest, hands.

“You’d take an unwilling woman?!” Aegon demands of the dying man, who gapes at him with rapidly fading eyes and a mouth hemorrhaging dark, lethal red. The king is wearing all black, tunic, trousers, boots. Half of his hair is pulled back from his face and secured with a black ribbon. You have never seen him like this before. You have never seen him brutal, formidable, furious. “You fucking animal. Enjoy drowning in your own blood.”

Aegon wrenches his sword free from the dying man’s throat and he falls face-down onto the mattress as you scramble away. And then Aegon falls too: his legs give out and he collapses to his knees, kneeling in a pool of the Norcross man’s blood, the hilt of his sword tumbling out of his grasp. You bolt off the bed and drop down onto the floor beside him.

“Aegon?!”

“Are you okay?” He takes your face in his hands—they’re shaking, they’re weak again, but just strong enough to cradle the slope of your jaw—and looks at you, turning your face one way and then the other, his eyes searching for bruises, lacerations, more fuel for the vengeful fire that blazes in him. The burn on his own right cheek is inflamed, blistering. He does not seem to notice.

“I’m okay, I promise.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“No, no, you got here just in time.”

And Aegon—this so-called monster, this alleged beast, this man who the Blacks swear is a villain and a degenerate and soulless—slips the sleeves of your silk lavender gown back up over your shoulders so your chest is covered. “If it’s any consolation, you’re fucking beautiful.”

“Of course you would prefer me dressed like a prostitute.”

He laughs, embraces you, holds you to him, the first time he ever has. Your arms link around the back of his neck, your fingers knot in his hair. You are so close, yet not nearly close enough; you want him completely, always. You can’t claw your way back up the cliff you’ve fallen down.

There is a commotion as the guards that accompanied Aegon to the brothel part to allow two new arrivals into the bedchamber. Aemond and Criston now stand just inside the doorway, breathing heavily from their sprint across the city. Your gaze meets Aemond’s and you clutch Aegon tighter. The king kisses your temple—so quickly and unceremoniously it feels like a habit, something instinctual, something innately right—and reluctantly unravels himself from you. He grabs the nearest bedpost and hauls himself to his feet, wincing, groaning, bracing himself against it with both hands.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Aemond shouts at his brother.

“You will not harm her! You will not take her from me!”

“Aegon, she’s not a Thorne, she’s a Celtigar! Her father sits on Rhaenyra’s council, he funds her war effort, when our men are killed it’s with arrows and steel that he paid for—!”

“We’re all different people now!” Aegon roars. “All of us! You were some pathetic runt, I was useless, Daeron was a child, Helaena was happy, Criston was devoted to Rhaenyra, Mother was her closest friend, all of us have been changed by this world and its endless goddamn misery! So she was born a Celtigar, is she to be eternally condemned for that? Is she truly irredeemable? Can no acts of service to the Greens’ king convince you of her loyalty? She saved my life!”

“Are you insane?! We can’t trust her!”

“I am the king!” Aegon bellows. “I am still the one who gets to make these decisions, no matter how unworthy you think I am!”

“She lied to you, to me, to everyone, that cannot go unpunished!”

And then Aegon responds, but not in the Common Tongue. He says something—laboriously, haltingly—in a language you recognize only from hearing Daemon and Rhaenyra converse in it. You were not aware that Aegon knew High Valyrian well enough to carry a conversation. Perhaps Aemond and Criston weren’t either; they exchange a brief, astonished glance. The guards’ eyes dart between the king and the prince regent.

Aemond replies, his tone cutting but his words swift, seamless, graceful, fluent. Aegon stumbles his way through a sentence or two, pausing several times to conjure the correct word. Aemond says something else, an effortless litany of syllables your forebears shared. Aegon forces out one last plea. It sounds painful; it sounds like a confession. Aemond stares at his brother, perhaps scandalized, perhaps merely stunned.

“Alright?” Aegon pants, in anguish now. His hands are like talons on the bedpost, the force of his fingernails leaving white scratches in the wood. “You get it? You understand?”

“Fine,” Aemond says, low and bitter.

“You will not harm her. She stays in the Red Keep. Promise me, Aemond. I cannot rest until you do.”

Aemond nods, glaring down at the floor.

“Criston?” Aegon presses. “Promise me. If he breaks his word, you will stop him. I command this. I am your king.”

“I promise, Aegon,” Criston agrees, willingly enough.

“Good,” Aegon says. “Good.” And then he blacks out and crumples to the floor. The guards rush for him, but Criston tells them to stand back. He stoops low, lifts the king, throws him over one shoulder and carries him. Aemond fetches his brother’s fallen sword. You follow them out of the brothel, staying as far away from Aemond as you can. You pause just long enough to peek into the kitchen.

“Autumn?” you call, and she looks up from the chicken she’s been coating with herbs and butter. “I’m leaving now. You’re coming with me. Get your things.”

“What things?” she says, grinning. She cleans her hands and trots after you, one palm resting on the swell of her belly, her copper sea of hair streaming out behind her.

Inside the Red Keep, you inform the servants that Autumn will be staying as a guest of the royal family and that she is to have a room near yours. Then you hurry to Aegon’s chamber. He is sprawled across the bed, writhing and moaning. Grand Maester Orwyle is administering milk of the poppy. Criston is stripping him, heaving off Aegon’s boots and trousers before gingerly removing his tunic to reveal bandages red with blood around his shoulders. He has torn the half-mended flesh there. He suffers, he heals, he suffers again.

“Angel?” Aegon chokes out, reaching for you with tears flooding from his eyes.

“I’m here.” You take his hand. “What hurts, Aegon?”

“Everywhere,” he gasps.

You tell Orwyle: “Give him another dose.” And a second goblet of milk of the poppy is emptied down the king’s throat. Within a minute, he is mercifully unconscious again.

Criston looks at you. “What’s wrong with his face?”

“Sunlight. The rest of his burns were covered, but not the one on his cheek. Fresh burns must be kept out of the sun. He knows that.” You unwrap Aegon’s bandages; his wounds need to be cleaned and re-dressed.

“Oh, seven hells,” Criston whispers, covering his mouth with one hand. There are four or five ruptures around each shoulder, thin bleeding crevices that branch out like the legs of a red spider. Grand Maester Orwyle ambles off to order servants to fetch water, vinegar, honey, linen, more milk of the poppy.

“I should have done better,” you say, and your voice breaks. “I should have used more rose oil on his shoulders. I should have made him stretch three or four times a day.”

“You’ve tended to him tirelessly,” Criston says gently.

“I shouldn’t have lied about who I was.”

“I don’t see how you could have saved his life otherwise.”

“Go find Alicent,” you say. “Explain what’s happened, but don’t bring her to visit him yet. It will only upset her.”

“Yes,” Criston agrees, and leaves.

Outside, the sun is setting, and all the world is the color of dragonfire. Grand Maester Orwyle returns with servants and supplies. As you are dabbing at Aegon’s wounds with cloths dripping with water and vinegar, Daeron appears in the bedchamber doorway. His eyes—large and expressive like Aegon’s, but more crystalline, less dark—are shimmering and wider than you’ve ever seen them.

“Is he dying?” Daeron asks, sounding fearful and very young.

“No more than usual,” Aegon rasps; and that’s how you know he is awake again.

When Aegon is cleaned, bandaged, and soothed once again with milk of the poppy, the two of you are left alone. You perch on the edge of the mattress and can’t stop touching him, his left hand where his dragon ring glints in the flickering candlelight, his disheveled silver hair that still has that little braid you made for him. You don’t know what to say. You worry that if you begin talking, everything will spill out like a monsoon or a rogue wave, things you can’t take back, things you don’t fully understand yourself.

“House Celtigar, huh?” Aegon murmurs drowsily, smiling. “I’ve never been so happy to see a crab in my bed.”

And it hits you all at once: I would take every last drop of pain for this man. I would slit him open and drain him of it, swallow it down, assume the debt. I would carry every burden, every red flare of agony and ache in his bones. I would learn the art of self-loathing if he could forget it. I would trade fates with him, threads cut and crossed and burned to ash.

“What?” Aegon asks. He’s watching you with those storm-blue eyes, glassy with pain and poison.

Why wouldn’t you send someone else in your place? Why would you go yourself? Why would you injure yourself so grievously, so senselessly? “Why would you do this for me?”

“You are the only person I’ve never disappointed. I’d like to keep that going if I can.” He takes your hand and laces his fingers through yours. “You’re so far away.”

You lie down on the bed and curl up beside him, careful not to put pressure on his fresh wounds. You place one palm on the center of his bandaged chest, the other against his unburned cheek. Aegon pulls you in closer until your noses are nearly touching and you swing one leg up to rest on top of his; even then, he keeps a hand on your thigh, as if to make sure you don’t leave. The other twists into your hair and stays there. Aegon dives into a deep, starless sleep and you doze next to him. When you catch wisps of dreams like fireflies in a child’s grasp, you hear crashing waves and see dragons pitching into the sea: Vermax at the Gullet, Arrax into Shipbreaker Bay.

Why did Aemond have to murder Luke? Why did he have to start this war?

Something wakes you, a sound, an indescribable shift in the room. You open your eyes and turn to see Aemond, arms crossed and back propped against the opposite wall. You rise as carefully as you can so you don’t disturb Aegon, untangling yourself from him like he’s something catastrophically fragile, a spider’s web, a splintering pane of glass.

You stand and take several steps towards Aemond, only so you can speak without waking Aegon. “What do you want?”

“I fear I did not conduct myself particularly well yesterday,” he says. “I may have acted…impulsively. Unwisely.”

“Your capacity for self-reflection is truly inspiring.”

Aemond frowns. “I’m being serious.”

“I’m not interested.”

“If we are to be on the same side of this war, we should learn to understand each other.”

“I don’t want to understand you. Your mind must be a horrible place to live.”

He stares at you with his sole remaining eye, cold and hurt and wrathful and hopeless.

You ask softly, knowing that only Aemond can tell you: “What did he say? Back at the brothel?”

Aemond does not answer for so long that you convince yourself he’s not going to. At last, he decides to extend a peace offering. “He said that he cannot live without you. Or that he wouldn’t want to. I’m not certain which he meant. His High Valyrian has always been terrible.”

Then Aemond walks out of the room without another word.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen ii x you #aegon targaryen x you

[blue-jisungs]

helllooo if ur requests are kinda closed bc of ur main request game thing (idk what u call it 😭) then ignore this!! but if ur requests are open and you’ll need time to get to this bc of ur request game thingy (wow great wording 😋) can u do an enhypen reaction (ot7) to a fem!idol!reader being in a really popular gg? HELP- the ideas rlly basic but so am I so like- 😍👌

you’re an idol ♡

a/n. sorry you had to wait for so long 🧍‍♀️ i hope you enjoy it!! also it’s not a basic idea i really wanted to write something like this hehe

┆彡 HEESEUNG [ 희승 ]

he’s your big fan but the biggest protector

during vlives he makes everything so you do not see hate comments

same with tweets. no idea how he does it but whoever tweets a bad word abt you they have their acc removed in a matter of hours 🧍‍♀️

besides that, hums your group’s songs 24/7

in private tho

bc he knows if one of the guys catch him, he’s being teased forever

also shows off your group merch on vlives!!

pssst, he’s a big fan of the light stick :”)

┆彡 JAKE [ 제이크 ]

engenes on weverse or bubble are low-key tired of him bc he talks about you and your group 24/7

“DID YOU SEE Y/N’S NEW IG POST?! THATS MY GF!!!”

literally has your pc tucked in his wallet and his phone case :”)

once got matching hair with you to support your comeback (spoiler: managers and jungwon were not happy)

sings your songs on lives <3

that’s actually how engenes and your fans started to figure out you’re dating

bc like… he won’t shut up about you. even on vlives or celebrity shows.

but it’s fine, he’s cute while doing that + you two make an adorable couple <3

┆彡 JAY [ 제이 ]

no one in the public knows (at first…)

but privately they are all sick of him 🤕

“[gg name] this, [gg name] that…”

heeseung jokes that he should be in your group since he talks more about than enhypen

also his music taste contains of 99% rock and that 1% of your group’s sweet songs about love╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

once (1) he danced to your song - especially your part - and engenes went WILD

engenes craved more jay covering gg songs

they ask, they shall receive! isn’t that suspicious that it’s only your group’s songs though…?

no one cares (respectfully) as long as grumpy jay is dancing cutely :D

┆彡 JUNGWON [ 정원 ]

he’s so in love, everyone can see that

“did you see y/n’s special stage today?! oh my goodness, she was so cool! and the outfit? and the– i mean… [gg name] did well!”

we all know his eyes were on you and you only

he always records your ending fairies 🥹

that means he has a whole ass folder for them + fan cams, memes and clips :”)

always helps you when you struggle with some parts of your choreos or such!!

and he’s so adorable that you can’t say no to his puppy eyes when he asks you to spoil something about your comebacks

“jungwon, no. i told you too much already!” “but…” “okay… but don’t tell others!”

he has a small key ring with a plushie of your representative animal attached to his keys :”)

┆彡 NISHIMURA RIKI [ にしむら りき ]

he could not care less about his managers scolding you – he covers your group’s songs all the time

and he always nails it… but when he does it with you though, he always goofs around and gives you your time to shine <3

literally knows all the choreos, the boys would be 99% that he knows them better than their own

riki literally threatens you to send selfies of yourself when you have a stage performance

he loves all that cutie accessories they put on you and often ends up stealing eg your hair clips…

btw he saves the selfies too <3 esp when it’s a goofy angle… he can’t help but grin like an idiot at his phone

you made a funny mistake on air? get ready to be teased about it.

kind of off topic but you are literally the industry’s fav couple (yk… you kinda took hyuna and dawn’s spot– okay i’ll go now) bc HOW!! CUTE!! YOU!! TWO!! ARE!! TOGETHER!!

┆彡 SUNGHOON [ 성훈 ]

he’s like “your songs suck” and then proceeds to sing them for the whole day

when he was a mc and your group happened to be performing at music bank he would non-stop stare t you with hearts in his eyes :”)

making lil jokes too (hawaii you?)

during en o’clock he’s known to dance randomly to your songs 😭

but then when you laugh at him bc of that he’s like “well it’s your fault it’s so catchy😕”

he’s so sweet though :( once you had a comeback and due to his busy schedule he couldn’t be with you...

… so he sent you a big (and i mean BIG) bouquet of flowers in colours that matched your cb concept and a cake with a cute drawing!!

also there was a card attached to it. it said “congratulations on your comeback! you did a great job! we loved it!” - enhypen”

but then when you thanked them for it they were like ??? what flowers !!!?

turned out hoon was to shy to admit it was his idea so he just wrote it was them 🥹

┆彡 SUNOO [ 선우 ]

SUCH A SWEETHEART ABOUT IT :((

writes abt u and [gg name] on weverse!! “did you see [gg name]’s new mv? i loved it!”

dancing tiktoks are a must!! especially with you!! engenes love to see him all happy and giggly with you

also does lil dances out of nowhere :”)

buys your albums. literally dates you and yet he’s the biggest fanboy – literally full on collector

he has to have every single one of your pc

(and yes you sneak some stuff for him, and he straight on goes :D)

often recreates your mv/cb makeup and outfits for fun

and you too… and then you have adorable pictures to post and that results in your fans and engenes to lose their mind 🤭

(and because of that people often set up matching pfps of you two <3)

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinhobi ,, @jung0ne ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @julaute ,, @moonacholy

#enhypen jay #enhypen x you #enha #enha fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki #enhypen sunoo #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen x reader #blue jisungs's requests #enha reactions #enha soft hours #enha imagines #enha x you #enha requests

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil! We were talking about Puck of Pook's Hill in one of my seminars, and we were wondering if your Puck in The Sandman was inspired by that book?

Yes and no. Puck of Pook's Hill is hugely influential on me and the way I think about the land and Sussex, and I'm sure it was an influence on Sandman #19.

But my wild Puck is closer to the Robin Goodfellow of the ballad:

From Oberon, in fairy land, The king of ghosts and shadows there, Mad Robin I, at his command, Am sent to view the night-sports here. What revel rout Is kept about, In every corner where I go, I will o'ersee, And merry be, And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho

More swift than lightning can I fly About this airy welkin soon, And, in a minute's space, descry Each thing that's done below the moon. There's not a hag Or ghost shall wag, Or cry, 'ware goblins! where I go; But Robin I Their feats will spy, And send them home with ho, ho, ho!

Whene'er such wanderers I meet, As from their night-sports they trudge home, With counterfeiting voice I greet, And call them on with me to roam: Through woods, through lakes; Through bogs, through brakes; Or else, unseen, with them I go, All in the nick, To play some trick, And frolic it, with ho, ho, ho!

Sometimes I meet them like a man, Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound; And to a horse I turn me can, To trip and trot about them round. But if to ride My back they stride, More swift than wind away I go, O'er hedge and lands, Through pools and ponds, I hurry, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

When lads and lasses merry be, With possets and with junkets fine; Unseen of all the company, I eat their cakes and sip their wine! And, to make sport, I puff and snort: And out the candles I do blow: The maids I kiss, They shriek—Who's this? I answer nought but ho, ho, ho!

Yet now and then, the maids to please, At midnight I card up their wool; And, while they sleep and take their ease, With wheel to threads their flax I pull. I grind at mill Their malt up still; I dress their hemp; I spin their tow; If any wake, And would me take, I wend me, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

When any need to borrow aught, We lend them what they do require: And, for the use demand we nought; Our own is all we do desire. If to repay They do delay, Abroad amongst them then I go, And night by night, I them affright, With pinchings, dreams, and ho, ho, ho!

When lazy queans have nought to do, But study how to cog and lie: To make debate and mischief too, 'Twixt one another secretly: I mark their gloze, And it disclose To them whom they have wronged so: When I have done, I get me gone, And leave them scolding, ho, ho, ho!

When men do traps and engines set In loop-holes, where the vermin creep, Who from their folds and houses get Their ducks and geese, and lambs and sheep; I spy the gin, And enter in, And seem a vermin taken so; But when they there Approach me near, I leap out laughing, ho, ho, ho!

By wells and rills, in meadows green, We nightly dance our heyday guise; And to our fairy king and queen, We chant our moonlight minstrelsies. When larks 'gin sing, Away we fling; And babes new born steal as we go; And elf in bed We leave in stead, And wend us laughing, ho, ho, ho!

From hag-bred Merlin's time, have I Thus nightly revelled to and fro; And for my pranks men call me by The name of Robin Good-fellow. Fiends, ghosts, and sprites, Who haunt the nights, The hags and goblins do me know; And beldames old My feats have told, So vale, vale; ho, ho, ho!

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box— Imagines Edition: Not So Happy Birthday

summary: y/n’s birthday was going perfectly, until it wasn’t. but nothing ever goes wrong normally in y/n’s life. it always has to end up in flames. or rather… in cells.

warnings: getting drunk, unwanted physical touch by a stranger, lots of swearing, vomiting, crying, getting arrested, arguing, punching

word count: 2.5k

a/n ya’ll wanted a sissy and trevor fight! go big or go home, right?

SERIES MASTERLIST

part two

— — —

For your twenty-first birthday, you decided to be casual and cliche and go out to a club with all your friends. If it wasn’t summer, you would have invited some of the wags, but at least you managed to steal Petey!

“Well doesn’t my girlfriend look hot,” Trevor smirked as he slid his hands around your waist from behind and kissed your neck.

“Trev! I’m putting on mascara!” you laughed.

“You can pause to give me a kiss!”

You playfully rolled your eyes and turned to give Trevor a kiss so that you could shew him out to finish getting ready.

You were probably over doing it and felt like things were taking too long, and your thoughts were confirmed by your best friend knocking on the bathroom door frame. You turned around to see Quinn leaning against it with his arms crossed.

“I was voted to come tell you to “hurry the fuck up” and everyone else didn’t know how to politely say it,” Quinn smirked. “They figured I’m the only one that can get away with saying that.”

“I would never yell at Cole!” you feigned offense. Quinn quirked an eyebrow at you. “I would, however, take longer out of spite and I would never spite you.”

“Exactly,” Quinn nodded. “Now come here so I can fix your under eyes.”

The rest of the guys cheered when Quinn led you down the stairs and you played along and took a bow.

The drive there was chaotic at best, but that was standard practice for the clusterfuck that is your friend group. You were in Trevor’s car with Jamie, Quinn, and Petey. Jack’s car had him, Luke, Alex, and Cole.

Trevor seemed a little on edge, which was frankly pissing you off and everybody else in the car knew it. You were hoping that getting a few shots in him at the beginning of the night would loosen him up. But until then, you were just going to have to fake it until you make it by singing along (screaming along) to Taylor Swift.

Trevor eased up a little once we all got into a groove at the club, but he still wasn’t acting like his normal self. He was acting possessive over you; which you’d be enjoying if he wasn’t so angry about it.

“Alright, what is your problem?” you snapped at your boyfriend.

“I don’t have a problem,” he said moodily.

“Right,” you scoffed. “Because that was soooo convincing! If you’re going to be a grouch on my birthday, then I’m going to go dance with Jamie until you get your shit together.”

You didn’t let Trevor protest, but it didn’t seem like he was going to. He let you leave him alone and go off to your group of friends and stole Jamie away from the girl he was talking to.

“Y/N, I love you so much, but why did you just take me from a beautiful girl?” Jamie asked as he lifted his arm up so you could twirl under him.

“Because Trevor’s in a mood! He was bumming me out. Look at him! He looks so angry over there!”

Jamie took one look at his best friend and unfortunately agreed with you. Trevor looked like he could kill a man in the blink of an eye. Jamie sighed, “I’ll go handle it.”

Jamie left you, and before you could slip away to find another one of your friends, you were grabbed by the waist and pulled in close. You laughed and expected it to be Jack (who does that from time to time), but it turned out to be a stranger.

“What are you doing all by yourself, gorgeous?” the man whispered in your ear.

“I’m not,” you muttered as you tried to pull away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

The man was letting go, and the second he did, you heard the sound of a fist colliding with the guy’s face. You gasped and whipped your head around to find Trevor panting and dark eyed.

You were so blind with rage that you didn’t have any time to process what exactly went down, but all you know is that you and Trevor are now outside of the club and you can’t get ahold of anybody.

“Fuck, Trevor!” you yelled and banged your fists against the door. “What is your problem?!”

“That guy was all over you! So excuse me for defending my girl!” Trevor yelled.

You snapped your head around to look at your boyfriend with fumes coming out of your ears, “He let go of me immediately! But you’ve been acting like a dick all night, and then you got us kicked out of the club on my god damn birthday! And I can’t get ahold of anybody!”

Trevor was spewing on about something in response, but you couldn’t hear anything from the sudden intense wave of nausea that just overcame you. You might’ve drunk a little too much in an attempt to drown out your boyfriend. You turned around and immediately threw up all over yourself and the wall. You crouched down and leaned your head against the brick wall, taking deep breaths to compose yourself.

“Did you listen to anything I just said?” Trevor asked you frustrated.

“I just threw up, you asshole, what do you think?” you panted. You stood up to face him, “Is all you care about yourself today? You just want to be this big macho man that protects the damsel in distress?! I’m not a god damn damsel, Zegras!”

“I never said you were!” Trevor shouted. “You’ve been all over every guy in sight!

Then came the police sirens. Apparently, you two have moved your argument into the street and caused a giant scene. And now you two were publicly intoxicated.

You two didn’t even argue at your arrest and got into the back of the cop car calmly. You two sat as close to opposite windows as possible in the uncomfortable hard seats and didn’t mutter a single syllable.

You didn’t know how you were gonna get ahold of anybody for your one phone call. When you got thrown out, you couldn’t get a single one of your friends to answer. It was your birthday, and you were happy that everyone was having fun and going off in pairs and coming back to meet everyone else off and on, and that was great! Until Trevor.

“We’re both calling Quinn,” you stated monotone after every protocol was handled and you two were given a phone call.

“K.”

You glared at Trevor as you dialed at his answer, and he did nothing but glare back. The police got some water and food in the two of you to sober up a bit before allowing you to make a call.

“Hello?” Quinn answered in a panic.

“Hey, Quinny, it’s me,” you said, suddenly feeling really disappointed in yourself and scared of how Quinn was going to react. “Trevor and I got… uh… arrested and we need you to come to the police station.”

Quinn was silent for a long time before responding with, “We’re on our way.”

You hung up the phone and told Trevor to not bother with his phone call. They stuck you both in the same holding cell, and luckily no one else was there.

“Tell me what you were saying when I was throw up,” you told Trevor as you sat down on a bench-like thing.

“What good will that do?” he sighed and sat on the floor across from you.

“We aren’t done fighting and need to get everything out before we explode.”

“Fine. I said I was mad all night because you’re so okay with accepting all an any attention from any male in sight. You bask in it. You dressed hot tonight, and don’t get me wrong I absolutely love it, but the second we walked into the club i could feel all the eyes on you and I knew you were going to enjoy it.”

And there was that rage again.

“I’m sorry, what? You think I dressed like this for the male gaze?!” You stood up to tower over him, and Trevor was quick to get up, too. “No, I dressed for me. Because I felt good in this outfit. And don’t act like I go out of my way for attention! It’s not my fault! Every woman gets unwanted attention, and sometimes I’m just having fun with it! Because you do the same fucking thing, Trevor! You seek it, you thrive in it!”

“I have to act like that, Y/N!” Trevor shouted. “I’m being nice to fans! And yeah, it’s nice to have those interactions of them loving me, but that’s not the case for you! God, you have the biggest victim complex I’ve ever seen! I’m sorry you have trauma and daddy issues, but it’s no excuse to do the things that you do!”

You gasped and tears began to well up in your eyes. Trevor’s eyes widened and his hand flew to his mouth. He knew that he just crossed a line.

“Fuck, Y/N, I didn’t mean that! I am so sorry–”

“Stop talking,” you cut him off.

“Y/N I–”

“I said stop fucking talking, Zegras!” you snapped.

Trevor walked to the bars of the cell and leaned his head against them while you sat back down and tried not to sob. Quinn marched in seconds later, and he was fuming. He heard everything.

“Quinn!” Trevor panicked. His body language was tense, and he immediately knew that Quinn caught what he said at the end of his rant.

“She said to stop fucking talking, and I highly suggest that you listen,” Quinn said, venom laced in his tone. A cop came over to unlock the cell and told you that you both were free to go.

“I’ll pay you back for all of it, Quinn, thank you,” Trevor rushed out.

“No. You’ll be paying me back for your bail. I’m paying for Y/N’s. You’ll also be paying for the hotel that you’ll be staying at tonight because you won’t be stepping into the house until she says it’s okay. You’re damn lucky Jamie had your keys, otherwise you’d be getting yourself an Uber to pick up your car.”

Trevor decided to be smart and kept quiet, only offering a nod to let Quinn know he heard him loud and clear. Quinn wrapped his arm protectively around you and led you out of the police station while Trevor awkwardly walked a safe distance behind. Jack and Jamie were standing outside of the station on a bench waiting for the three of you to walk out and immediately stood up concerned when they saw how you walked out. Jack came up to you and Quinn, and Jamie went to Trevor.

“How bad did you just fuck up?” you heard Jamie whisper.

“Monumentally,” Trevor whispered back. “I’m dropping you all off at the house then getting a hotel.”

Jamie sucked in a breath at that, “I’d say that’s a lot more than monumentally.”

Back to where you were, Quinn caught Jack and took you both to the side to talk without Trevor or Jamie hearing so you could give the two of them a quick run down as to what happened before going into heavy detail at home.

“Luke and I will talk to him at the hotel,” Jack said. “Sissy needs you, and frankly you might kill him.”

“Good call,” Quinn said.

The drive was tense. Jack drove so Quinn could sit in the back with you, and everyone else remained silent as you gently cried into Quinn’s chest to try to not make more of a scene. Once both cars arrived, Quinn told you to go to his room while he briefly spoke to Trevor.

“Don’t take back your permission,” you caught his hand. Quinn sighed and pulled you in for a hug and kissed the top of your head, “wasn’t planning on it.”

Alex met you by the door when you walked in and wrapped you in a hug. This was all that it took for you to let out the wracked sobs that you were holding in the entire car ride. Alex held you tighter and rubbed your back as soon as the tears started to fall.

“Tell me something good about him,” you squeaked.

“He loves you more than you know,” Alex whispered into your hair. “We couldn’t let him drive because he was crying so much.”

Alex held you in the foyer while everyone else stayed silent in the living room and kitchen. Quinn and Jack came in and Alex released his hold to pass you onto Quinn.

“Lukey!” Jack called out. “Let’s go.”

Instead of going to Quinn’s room like he wanted, you decided it would be best if you told everybody at once what happened. Various expressions were made as you recalled every single aspect of the last few hours in detail. Jamie was just about ready to kill his best friend, Alex and Cole came over next to you and each placed a comforting hand on you, and Petey stepped up as a caregiver and brought you some ice water to help you calm down.

“I can’t believe him,” Jamie scoffed. “He told me he fucked up, but that was a whole new level of fucking up.”

“He crossed so many lines,” Cole agreed in disbelief.

“Yeah, well…” you took a deep breath, “I probably did, too. I don’t even remember some of the other awful things I said before I sobered up.”

“He had no right,” Petey piped up.

You nodded and brought your knees close to your chest and leaned more into Quinn, “I don’t want us to go to bed angry.”

“I don’t want him in this house right now, Sissy,” Quinn said.

“I know; I don’t want him either. I just don’t want to go to bed angry. We’ve never done that in our four plus years of dating, and I don’t want to start now.”

“He said the same thing in the car,” Cole admitted.

“He was a real mess,” Jamie admitted. “He couldn’t tell us what happened. He could barely get a word out.”

You nodded and closed your eyes as more tears slipped out. You knew what you had to do– what you wanted to do.

“Cole, can you come sit with me while I call him upstairs?” you asked quietly.

“You don’t want me?” Quinn asked, confused.

“I love you, Quinny, but sometimes best friend number two is better suited for a job,” you slightly smiled at him.

“You got me there,” Quinn breathed out a laugh.

He let go of his hold on you as you accepted Cole’s hand to walk up the stairs with you. He sat down on the edge of the bed and kept your hand in his as you picked up your phone to call your boyfriend. Trevor picked up his phone immediately, “Hello?!”

“Hi,” you said quietly.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. I cannot believe–”

“I’m sorry, too,” you cut him off. “We’ll talk about everything tomorrow. I just didn’t want to go to bed angry.”

“Yeah,” Trevor sighed. “Me either.”

“I love you,” you breathed. You squeezed Cole’s hand in fear that he might not say it back.

“I love you, too,” he finally answered.

“Always?”

“Forever.”

#penalty box series #penalty box series: imagines #trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x hughes reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes #jamie drysdale #cole caufield #alex turcotte #elias pettersson #anaheim ducks #vancouver canucks #luke hughes #cole caufield imagine #trevor zegras angst #trevor zegras au #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

[ejanarky]

Havik x GN! Reader || NSFW

Just a little self indulgent story I wanted to write cuz there's still not a lot of Havik content out there. This ain't proofread, so sorry for any mistakes <3

CW: filthy language, rough sex, nothing really out of the ordinary, degrading praise, biting, mentions of gore and cannibalism (in a romantic way)

The throbbing within is nearly unbearable, having reached your fifth climax of the night. You're out of breath as Havik ruts into you, licking and biting at your neck with a hunger like no other, as if he wishes to devour you completely. You can't help but let out a slew if curses and moans, the cleric pulling them from your throat oh so happily, merciless in his movements. Havik himself can hardly hold back his own noises. In fact, he doesn't. He's loud, huffing, moaning, panting, repeating your name like a mantra, a prayer, even. He groans into your ear, his voice hot and heavy with lust.

"Hng..fuck. You feel so good. So precious..." He practically whines as his cock stretches you so deliciously, rubbing your insides in all the right ways. "Look at you, squeezing me so tight. You're just begging for me to cum inside, slutty little thing."

A particularly needy moan falls from your lips, your nails digging into Havik's biceps. He loves the feeling; the sharp, stinging pain that comes from the way you cling onto him so desperately. It only turns him on more, pulling a deep groan from him that reverberates in his chest.

You can feel Havik's breath become heavier as he drags his tongue from your neck to your chest, nuzzling his marred face into it, desperately listening for your heart. To hear your heartbeat would most likely drive the man to the edge, hearing the muscle pulse, sending blood into your veins and throughout your body. Oh, how he loves your blood; how he loves your heart. He wants to touch it, lick it, devour it. Alas, he can only listen as it flutters beneath your breastbone, dancing so beautifully, all for him.

Havik salivates over your chest, his tongue and teeth caressing the skin if your sternum as his thrusts become a bit slower. It's not very often that Havik slows his pace during sex, but tender moments like these are savored. You gaze down at your lover, drinking in the way his deep, brown eyes stare lazily back up at you, pupils blown from desire. He whines as his hot tongue laps over your bruised flesh, soothing the bites he had painted your chest with just minutes ago.

"Oh, how I want to crack you open and steal your heart from its cage," he groans, rutting lazily into your heat, almost pathetic, "I need to taste it. Hold it in my hands and feel it pulse just as you pulse around my cock..."

You card your fingers through his hair, your nails scratching gently at his scalp, eliciting a small moan from him. "I wish I could give you that, my love, but we would have to part if I did." You smile lovingly at the cleric, knowing that he understands, and that he would never let it come to that point.

Havik lets out a low growl, making his way back up your body, leveling his face with yours. He gingerly presses his forehead to your own in a simple display of trust and affection, your sweat mixing with his. Slowly, he lowers his mouth down to your ear, running his tongue over the cartilage before speaking harshly. "I am well aware of this, my dear. I will simply feel you from the inside in the best way I can~"

And with that statement, thay simple sentence that took your breath away, Havik set a brutal pace, even harsher than the ine before. He grabs onto the flesh of your thighs and practically folds you in half, allowing him to reach even deeper within your core, tearing a scream from your throat. Havik chuckles in between moans and growls, pleased by the noises you're making as well as the sight of you conturned beneath him.

"Yes! Sing for me, love. Let me hear your beautiful voice, so sweet and tortured, just for me." He huffed and groaned, his pace almost as bruising as his grip on your thighs. Havik holds nothing back, fucking you relentlessly, reveling in the way your bodies move in perfect unison and in the way that you writhe and whimper under him. It isn't long before you can feel another orgasm building, bubbling up in your gut, threatening to burst.

The cleric buried within you feels it, too, his heart racing at the thought of you cumming on his cock once more. He will gladly help you reach that high again, rutting his hips agaisnt yours in a steady rhythm, hitting that spot within you over and over. You're drooling at this point, a babbling mess, barely able to form a coherent sentence. All you can do is whimper and plead, words broken by the overstimulation.

Your lover huffs out a laugh as he gazes down at you, proud of this fucked out mess that he has made of you. "What is it, darling? Are you going yo cum again? Look at your pretty face, of course you are." He firmly grasps your cheeks in one of his scarred hands and forces you to look up at him. Havik gazes into your eyes, his own begging you to not look away. "You've got one more in you, I know you do. Now, be a good little pet and cum with me."

It washes over you before you can even process Havik's words, your orgasm wracking though your body. Your back arches and your fingers dig into Havik's muscular arms once more, silently screaming, then gasping for air. Havik's own breathing becomes rather ragged, then evolves into loud growls and moans as he reaches his climax. He bites down hard onto your shoulder when he spills within you, ripping a broken whimper from you. Havik groans against your tattered flesh, the taste of your blood only heightening the sensation of his release.

Finally, Havik stills and removes his teeth from your shoulder, running his tongue over the wond to soothe it. He wraps his strong arms around your sweaty body and rolls over onto his back, pulling you on top of him, his cock never leaving your warmth. He nuzzles into your neck and laps gently at it; his way of kissing. The two of you stay like that for a while, reveling in each others warmth and savoring the afterglow.

After a moment of silence, Havik speaks, his voice low and raspy, yet so very loving, running his calloused fingers over your body. "You mean everything to me...never forget that."

Aaaahhh first fic post! I really hope the Havik lovers enjoy this!

#havik x reader #havik #havik mk1 #havik smut #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #smut #mk smut #im losing my mind #need him so bad

[sanjisboyfie]

one piece smau: vacation edition

— strawhats being a cute friend group once again

— male reader, everyone having the tiniest crush on him too but thats only if u swuint (im a very selfindulgent writer sorry)

— also i imagine robin, franky and brook to be older than the rest of hte crew, but not like crazy older. its probably not really relevant, but like mid twenties insead of their thirties and forties LMFAOA the rest of the crew is young twenties

liked by ._.[name], princesanji, and 10k others

dni_nami: pre-7hr flight question, how long until we all start killing each other? everyone place your bets

tagged: ._.[name], freeluffy, and princesanji

uso_pp: we barely made it through the airport without losing luffy, so i'm placing my bet on one hour.

[liked by ._.[name], roro.zoro, and 20 others]

-> dr.law: i'm surprised you even made it through airport security....

-> freeluffy: TOORRAOO YOU SHOULD'VE COME IT WOULDVE BEEN SO FUNNNN!!!

-> dr.law: hard pass. good luck everyone else.

._.[name]: i think it's gonna be fine !!! what's the worst that can happen tbh

-> dni_nami: i could list 100 reasons why this is gonna go bad and all of them involve luffy.

-> robinkills: [name]'s right, i think this trip is going to be very fun !

liked by roro.zoro, robinkills, and 11k others

freeluffy: [name] rented bikes for us, but he won't let me drive :/

tagged: ._.[name]

SUPERCOLA: good job [name] for saving his life, much appreciated

dni_nami: i'm begging you two to not crash and make the expenses of our trip go up even more

-> princesanji: always thinking logically, nami, this is why i love you so much <333333333333333

roro.zoro: pick up some sake otw back

-> ._.[name]: yesyesyes we all know thats the only reason why you came anyway, i'll pick some up

-> roro.zoro: what. no way. i definitely wanted to be sat on a hours long flight next to luffy and be living in a small apartment with all of my friends who dont know how to speak quietly and wont let me sleep even when its already early morning. what. i am so excited to be here.

-> uso_pp: alright we get it please stop

liked by princesanji, SUPERCOLA, and 8k others

robinkills: thank you [name] for winning me the prizes :)

tagged: ._.[name]

._.[name]: anything for you robin <3 aka the person thats keeping all of us sane right now <3

princesanji: HOW DARE THIS BAFFOON STEAL YOU AWAY ROBIN PLEASE LET ME TAKE CARE OF HIM, I WILL MAKE SURE HE NEVER BOTHERS YOU AGAIN

-> uso_pp: when is sanji going to accept the fact that [name] is actually apart of this friend group and that he is also more favored by the women we interact with

-> ._.[name]: dw usopp he only puts on a hard front, he ltr begged me to room with him so he could cuddle w me at night. he's just being shy rn

[liked by dni_nami, roro.zoro, and 40 others]

freeluffy: [NAME] [NAME] DID YOU GET ME THEONE I WANTED TOO??!?!?! REMEMBER I SHOWED YOU

-> ._.[name]: yes luffy :) we are otw back and i have the one you asked for as well.

-> SUPERCOLA: [name] the absolute goat in dealing with luffy and his absurd requests so the rest of us dont have to

liked by freeluffy, roro.zoro, ._.[name], and 9k others

uso_pp: morning debrief where we all share embarrassing stories, like how [name] almost stripped completely naked drunk last night because an ice spice song was playing on the karaoke.

._.[name]: alright genuinely why the fuck did that have to be the caption you put on the internet for the whole world to see

-> roro.zoro: no dont be embarassed [name] it was funny watching you try and copy her signature pose

[liked by dni_nami, robinkills, and 90 others]

-> dni_nami: don't think about even crossing me in the future, i have a video of the whole thing bby

-> ._.[name]: GOD FORBID A GUY HAS FUN

skullnsoul: i found [name]'s dancing and singing quite endearing

-> ._.[name]: thank you brook :') you're so sweet

-> skullnsoul: yes, although i feel like you're much too old to be wearing underwear with hearts as the print, [name]. i suggest buying new pairs of boxers :)

-> ._.[name]: what the actual fuck

liked by princesanji, uso_pp, and 11k others

dni_nami: i really wish you could hear sanji cursing [name] outin this photo

tagged: princesanji and ._.[name]

._.[name]: me when im literally following the instructions that hes telling me and i somehow still get yelled at

-> princesanji: do you even understand hwo cooking meat works? everyone would have gotten salmonella and food poisoning if i didn't teach you how

->._.[name]: yelling is never the answer sanji

-> freeluffy: I THINK [NAME]'S COOKING TASTED REALLY GOOD

uso_pp: they acc cookeedddd tho like our food was so tastyyy

[liked by princesanji, ._.[name], and 9 others]

robinklills: sanji almost shoved [name]'s head into the griller, it was funny

-> ._.[name]: HE WHAT ??!?!?! I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE THAT HE TRIED DOING THA TWHAT THE FUCK

liked by princesanji, ._.[name], and 12k others

roro.zoro: [name] told me to post this photo he took.

tagged: princesanji and ._.[name]

dni_nami: awww look all the boys finally getting along

[liked by robinkills, uso_pp, vivi, and 50 others]

-> princesanji: i would have much rather been in your presence my queen, i love you so much

-> ._.[name]: sanjii give up the bit for fucks sake

uso_pp: where was me and luffy's inv ??? ig its like that now ....

-> roro.zoro: you guys were playing mermaids in the pool at the apartment and explicitly told us to not interfere with your serious business

-> princesanji: and then you started getting mad at us for invitig you again right before we left

._.[name]: damn zoro u lookin mad fine in this photo shiiiitttt #smash

-> roro.zoro: i need you to make sure your door is locked later tn or else i cant promise you will wake up the next day

liked by dni_nami, vivi, roro.zoro, and 12k others

._.[name]: thank u nami for the photos

tagged: dni_nami

._.[name]: btw nami made me post this w that caption so it could "scare away the hoes"

-> dni_nami: im doing them a favor, they just dont know it yet cuz ur fucking insane

-> uso_pp: LMFAOAO

purrrona: can i bite it?

-> ._.[name]: BITE WHAT?????

-> purrrona: so is that a yes or a no?

-> uso_pp: professional dick rider alert !!!!

roro.zoro: why is your thirst trap the first thing i have to see when i open this app

-> ._.[name]: why are you acting like you weren't the first person to like this post???

[liked by dni_nami, robinkills, and 57 others]

portgasace: WHY THE FUCK WAS I NOT INVITED ON THIS TRIP?????

dr.law: id also like to thank nami for the photos

#≡;- ꒰ ° smau series ꒱ #one piece smau #one piece imagines #modern one piece #modern au one piece #smau imagines #one piece x reader #one piece x male reader #x male reader #male reader #male reader imagines

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

5th house placements yall aren’t meant to have regular degular jobs. Y’all should be out there hosting, entertaining, sharing your heart, and going to places that will allow the artist in you to show. When you trust this you’ll feel more fulfillment.

Mercury 5th house are the writers, the poets, the comedians, the speakers. We love your words and we like listening to you.

Neptune in the 5th - the actors, the greats in theater, you guys have a GIFT with this please go and use it im begging. Drama is for you guys. Something about singing and dancing you guys do eloquently but very differently. You guys “feel” the music and you go with it you don’t go against it. You merge with the song it doesn’t merge with you. You become it. Giving it the soul it needs and being the messenger in what ever the music is trying to convey.

Pluto in the 5th - POWERHOUSES!!!! You guys can make anyone cry !! Like your gift here is so intense you make everyone feel these deep emotions as if you were the character really going through it in real life. This connection you have to your art it’s as if your psychic prowess can turn it into a unique experiment to heal yourself and in turn you heal the world.

Sun in the 5th - beautiful beautiful beautiful beautiful. You guys are artist who neeeeed to allow this to grow or you will suffer burn out. You guys are meant to live an artistic life where you express your passion in everything that you do. You MUST get into hosting, comedy, acting or whatever it is you choose. Allow yourself to move into this direction for more fulfillment.

Venus in the 5th - my babies !! You guys are meant to party & hosting something really cool is definitely for you. I could see you being into burlesque or somethjng seductive that shows off your sensuality. Doesn’t matter who you are. Your energy is very healing and it draws everyone to you wanting more.

Moon in the 5th - majestic energy, you need to act out your emotions in some way and I know dancing is something that can heal the sacral chakra for you guys. Sacral connects to our emotions so the more you focus on healing your emotions with something artsy (doesn’t matter what it is) it’ll have good results here and manifesting will be a lot easier for you. Needs a calm life where doing what they want is the main source of income.

Saturn in the 5th - enjoy enjoy enjoy. That’s the secret. Don’t let things bottle up inside you and bring you down. Keep working on those talents it’ll all pay off. You can be a teacher to those in some way who need to know that it is possible to be who they want to be. Take a chance in focusing on your art with no distractions, let go and let your heart sing . <3

Jupiter in the 5th - you have an abundance of magic in your gifts talents and skills. You may can do more than one thing and this can create a lot of income for you. Big personalities and I notice comedians can have this placement attracting a larger audience. When you dance or sing, it attracts a lot of people to you because your energy is powerful and potent here.

Uranus in the 5th - eccentric skills and can be used to shock people . The way you express your art is something no one else can do, so this is how you attract others to you making you a star. Never change the way you express yourself because it works for you and you alone. Gifted in multiple artistic hobbies, but the way you do them makes everyone want to ‘steal’ your blueprint. Be careful cause a lot of watchers are trying to figure you out , but it doesn’t work how they think it will.

#5th house placements #tropical astrology #astro community #thoughts #astrology #astrology lovers #astrology notes #5th house

[desperate-daydream]

I LOVE YOUR WORKS SO MUCHHH!!!! Could you please make a headcannon or short story of Five having a husband who's more chaotic than Klaus? Or a shy husband but more deadly than Five?

☂️Umbrella Academy

❀ five hargreeves x male (chaotic husband) reader ⚣

A/N: thank you so much!! I’m glad that you like reading what my crazy brain creates. XD. alright, I hope you like this one.

tags/warnings: you‘re five‘s husband, you and klaus are the chaos duo

(headcanons)

so, yeah, you‘re sometimes even more chaotic than klaus

five still can‘t believe how he fell for you

well, actually, you were the one to fall at your first meeting

like literally. you fell into his arms even

he caught you and you had looked up into the most handsome face you‘ve ever seen (and that cute little frown)

that wasn‘t the last time you fell and he had to catch you

when you walked somewhere you either jumped or ran around or you were walking on top of a wall

it seems like there is nothing to stop you from your antics

get up in the middle of the night to go swimming? okay

steal a little something from that ignorant asshole that had insulted you mere moments ago? why not?

bring home any pet you find on the streets and convince five to let it stay for a while? definitely

start singing and dancing out of nowhere, wherever you are? always

five will never admit it, but you manage more often than not to convince him to help you with your crazy ideas

he will say it‘s because he has to make sure you don‘t accidentally kill yourself

but he‘s mostly just deeply in love with you

he would do anything for his husband

he‘s killed for you before and he‘d do it again

everything to see his precious chaotic husband happy

but he also saw his life flash before his eyes when you and klaus met

he literally went and got a knife to carry around at all times in case you two got into serious trouble

another thing he would never admit is that klaus was probably his favorite sibling

apparently he had a lot of sympathy or whatever for the chaotic ones

okay so, the next thing he knows he finds klaus and you laying half naked in the living room

and somehow you two had found a stray kitten again and brought it back with you

together with at least ten bags full. of. clothes.

he made his way through the bags while purposely avoiding the cat that followed him with its gaze

then he slowly shook you awake

“(y/n)“, he sighed, “..love, wake up.“

you grumbled and slowly opened your eyes

a smile formed on your face when you saw that it was your husband and you reached out your arms towards him

he sighed again but let you pull him in to cuddle

you snuggled closer but five wouldn’t let you fall asleep again, he sat up and pulled you into his lap

you took the chance to kiss him

as much as he loved kissing you your husband pulled away after a few moments

“brush your teeth“

you let out an annoyed whine and pinched his cheek

“okay, can we talk about the cat now?“

five gestured to the creature that had approached them

you bent down to pick it up and the kitten started purring while it snuggled against your chest

„Can we keep it? Pleeeeease“, you put on your best pout combined with big pleading eyes, „for just a few days?“

five sighed another time, he knew he couldn‘t resist you

he nodded and you cuddled closer to him together with the kitten

yeah, five really loved his chaotic husband

so much that he let you get through with most of your crazy ideas

in the end your chaos brightened up his days much more than anything else

#five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x male reader #x male reader #male reader #x trans male reader #trans male reader #husband reader #gay #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy

[cooking-with-hailstones]

In case you were wondering: are the campus protests even important? Do they matter? Are they making a difference?

Yes, yes. They are making a difference.

Video description: Bisan, a young Palestinian woman, is speaking directly to the camera. She is wearing a black shirt and a keffiyeh.

Video transcript (I did my best but missed a few words)

I’m 25 years old. I’ve lived my whole life in Gaza Strip. I’ve never felt hope like now. Never. I mean it’s magical feelings running in my veins right now. In my head, I’m in Gaza city, in the north of Gaza Strip rebuilding my city after this genocide has ended. Even started to dream that my friends from Yafa, Haifa (unsure), majdal, are returning to their cities after being displaced for 75 years. These young heroes in universities at America and around the world are stronger than the last occupation in history. And for the first time in our lives as Palestinians, we hear a voice louder than their voices and the sound of their bombs and even stronger than their control in all aspects of our lives. 

In the 70s, the occupation, Prime Minister said, after decades of killing Palestinians, stealing the lands, establishing the state of Israel over the lands that “the adults will die, and children will definitely forget.” 

Wait. Is that the greatest (unsure) in history? Because it’s children and youth who are leading the movement for a free Palestine. everything they have on the line to demand justice and end of the genocide, and a new era of the world, not based on oppression, exploitation or colonialism. 

Do you know what the best part is? demonstrations and calls for boycott in the academic institutions are not limited to a certain people from certain religion, culture, color, religion, race, or maybe economic level. We are all different so we can no longer be accused of anti-Semitism, serving some agendas from outside, we are just different people calling for the same thing. People to people and people to justice. 

200 days I’ve spent escaping death every single minute were not in vain. And those 40,000 innocent souls were killed during these days were not also in vain. And this is the first time to feel and tell you this. 

Keep going because you are our only hope and we promise we will hold our ground and tell you the truth always. And please, don’t let their violence scare you. In Arabic, we say (Arabic phrase). In English, that means “they don’t have other options, but trying to terrify and silence you” because you are demolishing decades of brainwashing. You are making the change. The real change. Their violence means that we’ve begun to affect them deeply. Believe me, we are in the bottom of this bottle and we’re very very close to the end of this genocide. Maybe even closer than anytime before. Thank you. Thank you for each one of you, because you made us, me and my people feel that we are free. We are heard. We’re going back to our homes, and land. 

(Through tears) I have spent the whole night thinking about every video I see, you shouting for Palestine, you protesting for Palestine, you are dancing, singing for Palestine I feel it here in my head that I am going back. And I am free, and one day, we will celebrate it in, in Gaza together. Keep going and we will too. Salaam. 

(if anyone can help with my transcript, it would be much appreciated!)

#Palestine #free palestine #wizard bisan #bisan owda #Gaza #columbia university #columbia protest #campus protests #yale university #emory university #video #described video #Instagram