#but this and the egg stream are close seconds

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Happy two year anniversary to the best day for peerpressureduo enjoyers (aka c!ranboo fucking died)

#this is /j the best day was when Techno met Ghostboo and said 'you're hurt' in the saddest possible voice #but this and the egg stream are close seconds

[verstappen-cult]

#. . . Five times Max refuses to acknowledge he’s sick + one time he does.

request made by @lucien-calore. . . “hi, you asked for a max request and i shall deliver! can i please have a sickfic where max refuses to acknowledge he's sick (a flu or something, nothing too serious) but when he does, he acts like a drama queen?”

#1

You’re making dinner when you hear Max coughing from his streaming room, then the laughs of his friends making fun of him. 

You don’t think too much about it. That is until he can’t stop coughing while you’re eating, and when you’re getting ready for bed, and at all during the night. 

It’s only in the morning, as you’re making breakfast and he’s feeding the cats, when you decide to say something. 

“Baby?” You say, trying to look nonchalant while making the eggs. 

“Yes?” He puts the cat food away and makes his way to you. Max hugs your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “What happens?”

“I’m gonna go to the pharmacy after pilates, do you need anything?” 

Max hums, like actually thinking about it before saying, “No, love. Got everything I need.”

“You sure? Nothing for that cough you have?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He kisses your cheek and pulls away, grabbing an apple. “I’m gonna be streaming, make sure to say goodbye before you leave, okay?”

#2

“Are you okay?” It’s the fourth time in less than an hour that Max enters the kitchen to fill his bottle of water.

“Yeah, it’s just that all the singing and screaming at the concert last night left me with a sore throat.”

You try not to laugh but it’s impossible. It’s been three days since he started with that horrible cough, which hasn’t stopped, but he still doesn’t understand that he’s probably sick. 

“Max, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t that.” You close the book and get up from the couch, he looks confused as you get closer and place your hand on his forehead. “Jesus, Max, you’re burning up!” 

“I’m hot, don’t you think?” 

“Max, I’m serious, you got a fever.” 

“It’s probably nothing,” He reassures you by placing a kiss on your cheek before turning around. “I fell asleep on the terrace. I’m gonna take a shower, okay?” 

“Max, I swear to God—”

“You look hot when you’re angry.” That’s the last thing he says, walking away. 

“Max!” 

#3

It's impossible. You’ve tried everything to make Max understand that he’s sick and needs to rest, but he won’t admit it.

This morning you practically begged him to stay in bed to rest and recover, but he did not listen to you, saying that it was nothing — as he’s been saying all week — and actually dragged you to the Padel court because ‘I’m gonna win this time’. 

Dani’s visiting, so, everyone got together to spend Sunday morning at their favorite place, promising to go to brunch after. But it’s been three hours and they have just finished the second game. Who’s fault is that? Max’s. 

It’s no secret that Max is not very good at Padel, but now that he’s sick it’s been torture. Every couple of minutes they have to stop the game for him to cough, so it’s been impossible to actually play and he doesn’t want to give up. 

And it’s worse because Charles is his partner. Only a look at the Monégasque and you know he wants to murder him. 

“Max,” You call his name, leaving your book aside and walking closer to the wall that’s separating both of you. “you’re sick, why don’t we go home?”

“But, baby, I really think I can win this one.”

“No you won’t!” Lando shouts from across the court as he’s stretching. 

“Oh shut u—”

“Max, I’m serious.” You don’t know what else to do at this point. He’s always been so stubborn, but this has reached new levels. 

“I’m gonna win this for you, baby.” He winks and turns around to join the rest of the group. 

#4

“Max? Why are you still in bed?” You enter the room, gaze immediately going to the watch on the nightstand. It’s two in the afternoon. He never stays in bed past ten, not even during winter or summer break. 

“Jus’ tired.” He mumbles, face hidden in the pillows. 

“I’m gonna make you a cup of tea, okay?” You sit next to him, stroking his hair. 

“Don’t want a cup of tea,” He opens his eyes, looking up at you and pouting. It makes you giggle. “I want you.”

“I won’t kiss you until you admit you’re sick.”

“That’s so unfair!” He pouts again, this time grabbing your arm and trying to make you lie next to him. “I’m not sick. I’m like super healthy.” You snort, shaking your head and standing up. 

“Then, no kisses for you.”

Max groans, hiding his face under the blankets. “I can survive without your kisses, you know.” 

That makes you laugh because you know Max, and you know how much he likes to kiss you at every opportunity. The chances of Max keeping that promise… Impossible.

“Whatever gets you through the night, Maxie.”

#5

“Hey, baby.” Max places a kiss on your cheek as you leave the grocery bags on the kitchen table. “You got everything for tonight?”

“Yes. I already talked with your mom and they’ll be here at around nine.” Max helps you put the groceries away, frowning when he sees some medicine and a special broth he knows perfectly well among the things you will need for dinner tonight.

“What's this?”

You try to hide a smile, pretending to be busy with anything just to keep you from looking at him. “Your mom said you used to love it as a kid.”

“Yeah,” He says, still confused. “when I was sick.”

“You are sick, Max. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this.”

“I am not!” He huffs, rolling his eyes. You can see from the irritated expression on his face that he's tired of you repeating the same thing over and over again. “I’m gonna go play for a little bit.”

You grab his hand before he can walk away, pulling him closer to you. “Hey,” Max raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to talk. But you cup his cheeks instead, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m worried, I don’t want you to get worse.”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

You can only watch as he leaves the room, Jimmy following closely behind. 

“Well, I tried.” You mumble, looking at Sassy perched on the counter. She meows and you’re glad at least someone understands you.

+1

“Schatje?” You hear Max’s hoarse voice say. 

“Mmh?” It’s your answer, busy peeling some vegetables. “What happens?”

He hesitates for a second, you see from the corner of your eyes how he avoids looking at you, which makes you stop and turn your attention to your boyfriend. 

“I’m sick.” He whispers, surprising you. But he deserves a little teasing. 

“What? I didn’t hear you.” You play dumb, and Max sees right through you. 

“You were right, okay? I was being an idiot.”

“Yes, you were.” He pouts, making you feel warm all over. You walk to him, placing your hand on his forehead. “You have a fever. Why don’t you go lie down on the couch, uh? I’ll heat up the broth.” 

“I’m sorry for being an idiot.” He breathes into the air, blushing all the way from his cheeks to his neck. You know that admitting when he’s wrong is not something easy for him.

“I know, baby. But,” You reach up and boop Max on the nose with your index finger. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

“But I wanted to help you, everyone’s about to arrive.” 

“Worry about what your mom will say once I tell her how stubborn you have been.” He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “If you’re a good boy and take the medicine, I’ll think about giving you a… reward.”

If Max takes the medicine and finishes all the broth is only because he wants to get better. It has nothing to do with the reward you’re going to give him tonight.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #f1 grid x reader

[paused-waterfall]

I want to talk about how the qsmp federation dinner blended canon and non-canon "storylines", and just how effective that was for engaging Philza "the fourth wall is for other people and I'll sneak away mid-lore" Minecraft: Those who don't watch Philza streams might not know, but cc!Phil identifying when his eggs are not his eggs is a regular occurrence. He knows when Chayanne's admin is portraying Cucurucho, and when Tallulah's admin is subbing in to play Chayanne. Phil keeps track of which admin is which as a means of judging what scenarios are safe for them. He knows what skills he's taught them and even some of the hardware limitations they're working with. So when someone else steps in to play them, its a risk, because it means he doesn't know how his kids are going to act.

Philza takes about a minute and a half to call out "Tallulah" as not his egg. But if you watch closely, you can see that it took him less than 15 seconds to identify that the wrong person was playing her. Early in the dinner (4:52:50 on Phil's stream), Philza noticed and pointed out to his chat that the chef was lagging in a way that Tallulah normally lags. When "Tallulah" shows up to the dinner, there's a moment when he looks away from her-- he's not scanning for threats, he's checking that the chef was still around. And then giving a knowing look straight to camera. For a bit after that, he keeps looking back at the chef and talking to "Tallulah" like she's real. Because what cc!Phil hasn't decided at that point is whether or not this is canon. He knows the admins have to switch around for practical reasons, which have never been canon before.

But it's already a risk. This might be q!Tallulah, but it definitely isn't the Tallulah that cc!Phil knows how to predict and protect. All of the earnest, half-in-character conversations between Phil and Tallulah's admin about how they both want to keep her safe and how best to accomplish that are suddenly for naught, because the wrong person is on the other side of that screen.

While most of the characters and audience got to doubt reality when the eggs transformed, the same sort of process happened for cc!Phil and his chat as soon as the eggs showed up. What we were doubting was the line between canon and non-canon, but it tapped into much the same emotions while overriding the tongue-in-cheek approach to canon that normally holds sway in Phil's streams.

It's just so cool to see storytellers embrace the limitations of the medium to enhance the story they're telling like this. What a fun stream that was!

#philza #qsmp #qsmp dinner #not!eggs #tallulah #⏸️

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Story Time || LN4 & MV1

Random blurb that popped into my head. Lando Norris x Fem!reader, platonic!max verstappen x bestfriend!reader

Max was streaming with his Redline Team as he usually did when it wasn’t race week. You had received the notification that he had gone live on Twitch and grabbed Lando’s laptop from beside the bed to log in and watch it.

“Okay, I have another story you might enjoy.”

Lando chuckled as he entered the room with the cups of tea he had gone to make. “His stories are the best.”

There was never a shortage of stories from Max and you were lucky to have witnessed them for a large portion of your life. You had known Max since you were young and it was through him that you met Lando.

Your boyfriend handed you the mug that he had given you for Valentine’s Day last year: a big red heart that had his LN4 symbol in the middle. It still amused you that his gift was really for himself and you happily drank from it every day.

“He can hardly keep a straight face,” you said as you pointed to Max’s video feed. “It has to be a good one.”

“So I got a call last week from my good friend, Y/N.” Max had to stop to take a sip of his red Bull as he was laughing too much. “She was on a date with Lando, still don’t know how that happened but that’s another story, and they went to dinner in Florence. Lovely, right. One thing about Lando and Y/N, their Italian is absolutely terrible.”

“I’m already offended,” you said as you grabbed your phone.

“Oh, she’s watching the stream!” Max laughed as he read the text message you had sent him and he held it up to the screen for a second. “It says, ‘eighteen years of friendship and you settle on good? I’m insulted. Sincerely, your ex-best friend and current good friend.’ I think I’ve hurt her feelings. I’m sorry, I love you.

“Anyway, my good friend, she sends me a photo of her meal and immediately calls me. ‘Like what the fuck is this? I asked for pasta.’ Blah, blah, blah. Turns out she ordered a bean salad. She’s too embarrassed to admit she messed up so she eats the salad, she fucking hates salads, and then orders dessert.

“I get another picture and phone call soon after and she’s absolutely fuming because she received another bean salad.”

Lando was in hysterics beside you as he relived the disastrous date and he put his mug down before more tea spilled over the bedspread. “I’m sorry, baby, but it was funny.”

The chat down the side of the live stream was already getting bombarded with information you could have done with last weekend.

@/tifosi1: Cannelloni = Pasta @/vinividivici: Cannellini = Beans @/verstap1: Cannoli = Dessert

“We’ll have to see if she shows up to Monza, because she swore she would never step foot in Italy again.”

You fired another text through and he choked on his laugh. “I can’t read this one out loud, I’ll probably get censored and the race is ready. That’s it for story time.”

“I hate him,” you huffed as you slammed the laptop closed.

“I don’t,” Lando grinned, taking the laptop away and pulling you into his arms. “He brought you into my life.”

“Shhh, stop being sweet and let me be mad at him.”

“Okay, he’s an absolute bastard. We should toilet paper his apartment and throw eggs at his car.”

You cupped his face and pecked him on the lips. “Thank you. That must have been hard to say.”

“Yeah,” he shivered with a grimace. “Can we not be mad at him now? I don’t like it.”

“Me neither…fine.”

You unlocked your phone and sent him one last text.

To Max: I’m still your best friend.

You didn’t receive a reply until his race finished and you smiled as you showed it to Lando.

From Max: Always.

#max verstappen fanfic #lando norris fanfic #max verstappen x you #lando norris x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 fanfic #f1 rpf #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #max verstappen imagine #lando norris imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #lando norris x y/n

[sstrwbrryccke]

— bullying him | sub choi soobin

part 2 | part 3

tags: mean reader, bullying, dacryphilia, perv soobin, humiliation, public fondling??, somewhat nonconsensual

yes this is the third time im reposting this drabble because i accidentally deleted it three times 💀

another hard thought because i can’t stop thinking about a school au where you bully the studious and nerdy soobin!! its just sooo unlucky for him to sit right next to you, where you torment him almost daily. he keeps his gaze down on his book as you shove him against the locker (high school tv show style).

he spends most of the time quiet, never retorting back to you. It was almost irritating to you and your bully friends at a certain point because he almost never reacted to your taunts. just his bunny eyes occasionally making eye contact with you before he quickly lowers his gaze. what did it take to break this guy? your friends egg you on to increase the intensity, and you started to seek him out intentionally.

just as lunch break started, when all the students have left the classrooms, he was putting back his books into his locker. you walk up to him, making sure the vicinity was empty before you push him against the locker like always. but this time you kept going, trapping him in-between your arms and berating him about anything from his clothes to his hairstyle. he doesn’t respond once again, but with the close proximity you can see the blush on his cheeks, and when you looked down, you saw his thighs clenched tightly together.

oh… so that’s what was happening all this time? you feel a grin coming up as you shove your leg in-between his, exposing his hard-on. this time he does react, sputtering out panicked sentences and trying to hide himself. you found his weakness, and it was you. this newfound power spurs you on and you lean into his ear, whispering how much of a pervert he was to get off on getting tormented, how you could feel how hard his small cock was against your knee. he was petrified, not only was his secret exposed, but it was exposed to his biggest bully nevertheless. the worst part? he was getting harder.

you could tell he was a virgin with the way he swallowed his spit, eyes tearing up in embarrassment and body frozen in place from sheer humiliation. it only takes a little knee grinding and degradation in his ear to get him close. but that wasnt enough for you, you wanted to see him cry. so you whisper in his ear again, ordering him to jerk himself off in his pants. his breath hitches, gaze low as he takes a moment of consideration, and to your surprise, he obeys, shaky hand coming down to feel himself through his pants as he shyly tries to get himself off. tears fall from his eyes in humiliation and it was a few excruciating seconds. you finally decide to be nice and help him, your hand sticking down his pants to grasp at his cock sticky with precum. just the contact itself made him come into his pants, in the high school hallway. his eyes streaming with tears. before you know it, he quickly pushes you away and runs off to the bathroom.

and you found him, cute. really really fucking cute. the type of person you wanted to dominate and play with until he cried. so after school, you trap him again, though this time it wasn’t really trapping. because he willingly stopped for you, his gaze still low as you told him to follow you home. he obeyed, hands jittery and sweaty. when you get to your family’s rather well off house, you lead him to your bedroom, where he nervously asked you if you were going to do that again. and you grinned, asking if he was hoping for something. he stuttered again as you chuckle, before he meekly admitted yeah, he was. you feel your need to ravish this guy skyrocket and you push him onto your bed, roughly kissing him.

good thing tomorrow is a saturday, huh?

#drabble ☆ #hard thoughts ☆ #sub soobin #sub idol #soobin hard thoughts #soobin hard hours #soobin x reader #sub soobin x reader #sub txt #sub!soobin #sub!idol #txt #sub!txt #soobie boobie #choi soobin #thank you em… 😭 #this post is an atomic weapon…

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 10th

Praise Kink, Cardinal Copia x Plus Size!Reader

Previous Day | Next Day

Masterlist

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: Praise kink (going both ways); hurt/comfort; age gap; mentions of poor mental health; friends to lovers; unprotected sex; body worship; fingering; fellatio; nipple play; piv sex; plus size!reader; mentions of fatphobia; this is very self-indulgent; cockwarming;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

“Please, sweetheart, open the door.” You pleaded. Your forehead rested against the front door of Cardinal Copia’s small room, your hand stroking the wood in desperation to reach your closest friend who had locked himself inside and was sobbing on the floor. You had been alerted to his distress by his only assistant ghoul, Aurora, who was struggling to gain access to his room and knew you would be the only one who had a chance in Hell at getting in. You could hear his cries of despair and each one shattered your heart a little more.

Copia was your best friend, which from the outside looking in seemed a little strange. There was a mighty age gap between you both, and you hardly worked together, but something clicked for the two of you that one random chance you met, and you both simply couldn’t stay away. Rather like a cliché, somewhere along the lines you had developed feelings for him. He was pathetic, painfully introverted and shy, but he was the goodest of eggs, the sweetest of men, and insanely smart. His childish sense of humour resonated with you, and his inappropriate jokes were just what the doctor ordered. Neither of you truly fit in at the Ministry, not in the way other Siblings or Clergy Members did. The only reason why you both stayed was because of your devotion to the church. But Copia was worse off than you were. Everyone here, especially the Siblings, very much had a high-school mentality when it came to the Cardinal - and only the Cardinal. You would often catch their looks of disgust when he walked passed them, or hear the snidest of comments when he wasn’t around. You were aware of how they treated him, and tried your best to get more people to get to know him and keep their mouths shut. But some people refused to be swayed.

You didn’t know what had him so upset, but you had a hunch. You were just praying you were wrong.

The Cardinal was unlucky when it came to love. Most people rejected him, or sneered and turned away. But there was one of the Sisters of Sin who really captured the Cardinal’s attention, and you knew he was going to make an attempt to ask her out. You just hoped that it wasn’t today.

“Copia?” You pleaded again. “Please open the door.” You knocked gently. “Let me in?”

Though the sounds of his painful sobs remained, you heard shuffling underneath that. The door unlocked, giving you the opportunity to step back so you wouldn’t crowd him in his emotional state, and waited for him to open the door to you. And when he did, he looked much worse than anticipated.

The black paint around his eyes that signified his station in the Clergy had almost completely washed away from the tears he’d shed. Instead, they were running like black streams down his long face. The black upper lip he had had also been bitten away, and smeared across his face. His moustache was somewhat damp with both his snot and some of his tears. His eyes were red and puffy, and tears were still coming out. He was, for lack of a better term, a total mess.

Without hesitation and despite him being a little taller than you, you scooped him up into a tight hug, pulling him against your soft body and letting his head fall to your shoulders. He wept uncontrollably into the crook of your neck. He gripped onto your waist as tightly as he could, as though you were going to disappear on him the second he let go. While he was still attached to you, you managed to enter his room and close the door behind you, giving him the privacy he needed. Your hands, now free moved to cradle him, stroking his salt and pepper hair and providing as much comfort as you possibly could.

You stayed like that in the entrance for quite some time, until his sobs quietened to mere hiccups and his tears had saturated your habit. It was always better for him to get his emotions out before finding out what got him into that state. Now that he’d calmed down, he would be able to answer your questions. You both moved over to his single bed and sat down together. “What happened?” You asked, handing him a tissue from his bedside table and holding his gloved hand.

“Sh-she rejected me.”

Ah, so it was the Sister…

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. She doesn’t deserve you.” He always rolled his eyes when you told him that as if he didn’t believe you - and it usually was because he didn’t believe you.

“But she was kind about it.” He blew his nose. “She held my hands, looked me in my eyes. She apologised! She told me that any woman would be lucky to have me, but the honour wouldn’t fall to her, as flattered as she was! She hoped I would find someone better than her. Can you imagine?”

That hit like a knife to your chest. But this wasn’t about you. You had to keep reminding yourself the feelings were not mutual.

Copia continued, “I was human to her, ___. That’s what made it worse.” His face scrunched up as if he was about to start crying again and your hand gripped his tighter as if to bring him back into reality. He nodded. “Grazie. It hurts when they treat me badly, of course. But I come to expect cruelty with the rejection now. When they treat me like a rat I know what to do. B-but this?” His bottom lip quivered. “What am I to do with this?”

You switched positions a little, taking his hand in your left and wrapping your right around his body, holding him close to you in a semi-side hug. You rest your head on his shoulder and allowed your thumbs to gently caress his body. You didn’t say anything to him - you just listened. Besides, what was there to say? You weren’t even sure how to proceed with this. Usually, their cruelty meant that you could give your true feelings about them and remind him what awful people they were and that he dodged a bullet. He was able to get over the rejection within a week at most. But no bullets were dodged with this sister. She was kind to him when no one else was. She was gentle and sweet. No wonder he was having such a tough time.

He chuckled. “I am pathetic, sì? I should not cry over such things.”

“Hey,” you lifted your head to look at him, “never say that again.”

“Why? It is true. It was stupid of me to believe anyone as beautiful as she would like me back. Look at me: I am middle-aged, weedy, ugly and pathetic. How am I to find someone better than her? When most other people are worse than she is and still will not even look at me without disdain. Perhaps it would be best if I were not here.”

“It’s not true. You’re not pathetic. You’re not any of the things anyone says about you. Copia, look at me.” His eyes remained on the ground in refusal. “Please look at me.” He wasn’t emotionally capable of looking at you, but he needed to in order for you to get your point across. In desperation, you got on your knees on the floor in front of him and placed your hands on his thighs, unthinking in your movements. Your habit, much longer than usual due to the cold, spread out regally across the floor and encircled you. Copia looked at you now, but his eyes were a little wider than normal.

“You listen to me, you are wonderful,” you grabbed his gloved hands and held them tightly, “smart, and incredibly beautiful. You may not be everyone’s cup of tea, Copia, but you will be someone’s. I appreciate you so much, and I’m so fucking thankful that you are here. I’m so grateful that I have a friend as good as you every day. I thank Satan every time I pray for bringing you into my life. I love you.”

Perhaps your confession wasn’t said with as much honesty as you wanted it to be. The amount of love you felt for him played down by your fear of losing him. But the eye contact and the position you were in must have reached him. You must have.

His hand untangled itself from yours and cupped your cheek, his mismatched and teary eyes looking at yours. “Grazie, schricchio. This foolish old man does not deserve you.”

Your hand moved to his wrist and gripped on, once again allowing your thumbs to caress the back of his hand. “Yes, you do. I wish you could see yourself as I see you: how perfectly wonderful you are even with any flaws you have. There are fewer flaws than you think. Society is the one with the problem, not you.”

This was something you knew all too well being much bigger than the average woman in the Ministry. Even in a Satanic church where everything was meant to be the polar opposite of the Catholic church, you still found prejudice amongst your Siblings. You weren’t held in quite so much disdain as “the Creepy Cardinal”, but you knew all about how inhumanely Copia was treated because you had experienced yourself on many occasions. The over-sexualisation of your body while also having people call you disgusting and cruel names. Not having men look you in the eye when they had a conversation with you lest they be scruitinised by their peers. The way that Siblings would avoid performing rituals with you for the very same reason. The few friends you made, the comments that were thrown your way. ‘You’d be so much prettier if you lost that weight.’ ‘It’s unhealthy to be your size.’ The constant beration and bullying; it was so much to experience on a daily basis. Copia became your safe haven, your quiet and comforting place. He was always appreciative of you, loved to see you, spend time with you. He, unlike some of your previous friends and lovers, was unashamed to be seen with you in public. And all of this was because he knew what it was like firsthand to be on the edge of society and treated like dog shit. And every time you saw him defeated, it smashed a piece of your soul.

Copia, by this point, had stopped crying and all that remained were little sad sniffles, but his mismatched eyes never left yours. “You are too good to me, schricchio.” He gave you a faint smile, as if to imply he was playing. But there was too much seriousness in his voice to be anywhere near a jest.

“You deserve the world and more.” You kissed the palm of his hand where it was still resting on your cheek. “I’m sorry other people don’t think the same.”

“Perhaps when the Sister was telling me there is someone better than her, she was talking about you? I always have you at my side to give me strength when I need it. If we were not in the Devil’s church, I’d think you an angel.”

“Shut up.”

“No, it is true. Your Cardinal wouldn’t lie to you, no?”

“It depends - he may have an ulterior motive. Like getting me to stop talking so he can continue his self-loathing in peace.”

Copia chuckled, “She is too smart for her own good.” His eyes remained watery but gentle. “Grazie, schricchio. It seems the world treats us both poorly.” He leant down and gave you a kiss on your forehead, something he usually saved for your lowest days. There was something different about the way this kiss felt, though - something peculiar in the way he let his lips linger a little longer than usual. The way he didn’t move back right away, instead resting his forehead on yours. You opened your own eyes to see that his were still closed. Despite the way his makeup ran, you still thought he was so, insanely handsome.

“Come on, Cardinal, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You took his hand and led him to the bathroom, placing him on the closed lidded toilet and ordering him to close his eyes. You went in with a cleanser, the exact balm you recommended him to use and gently rubbed it over his face, melting away his makeup and sadness. This was incredibly intimate for best friends, you were both well aware of it, but there was something necessary about it especially when you were both so emotionally wounded. Like the forehead kisses, this was reserved only for the days when you both felt the most broken and needed connection. It had become one of your favourite things to do with him, because it truly allowed you to study his features without being seen as creepy or weird. His large nose, his pink lips, the light brown of his eyebrows that was always hidden beneath the darkest of panda eyes. His forehead creases and deep-set laughter lines that showed despite his trauma, he still found a way to smile. His quirky little moustache that was taken directly out of an 80s porno, complete with bushman sideburns that on anyone else would look ridiculous, but it suited him indubitably. He very much had the same features as the little rats he adored, along with his skin beginning to show his age. These were all things that made him uniquely Copia, and all of the things you fell in love with aside from his personality.

Of course, when you had him like this, it was also customary to play with him a little even if it was just to coax a small smile out of him. You placed a washcloth, warm and wet from the water over his face and left it there, announcing “done”, when you’d let go. He’d berate you back, telling you this was the worst spa he’d ever been to and that he’d never return, but once he’d washed away the grease and the grime of the day, he looked at you with a very pink, but very clean face. “Ta-da!”

“Handsome as always.”

He placed his hand on your cheek once more. “Grazie, schricchio.”

You leant into his touch, savouring the feeling of it but wishing you could get closer. Wordlessly, you took his hand in yours and began removing his gloves. Gently pulling each finger so that the whole thing would be removed easier. Once both gloves were off, you took his hand and put it back on your cheek, wrapping your own around it and enjoying the feel of his soft flesh against your own.

Copia, mustering all the confidence he didn’t think he had, brought your face closer to his once more, his breath tickling your lips. It was almost as if he was expecting you to pull away, like he was giving you the option to, but once it had been made apparent you were going to stay in your position, he finally closed the gap. Your heart leapt out of your chest when his lips made contact with yours - the touch was light and barely there, filled entirely with the fear that you might jump back in disgust and chide him for his actions. But he’d opened up the floodgates now, and there was no stopping either of you.

From that moment on, your kisses increased in desperation. He poured out the trauma of the past three hours, you draining your years of unrequited love into the heavy breaths and connection, the intensity increasing the longer you spent joined together. His hands came to your soft waist, and pulled you impossibly close to him, leaving not a scrap of room for a sheet of paper to be wedged in between you. Your own hands travelled to his hair, gripping on the roots for purchase and to keep yourself grounded as best as you could. Whimpers and moans left the both of you when your tongues were brought in to dance. He pushed you against the bathroom counter, pinning you against it and tightening his grip. He pulled away from your lips, but only a little. When he spoke, you could still feel his lips brushing against yours. “T-tell me to stop and I will.” He told you, his breath heavy and his voice barely above a whisper. “But you have to tell me now, amore mio, because once I start, I will never be able to stop. I’ll want you for eternity after tonight. Even in our deaths my soul will search for yours relentlessly. Do you want me to stop?”

“No. I need this. I need you.”

He wasted no more time in connecting his lips to yours once more, this time with more fervour and passion than you ever thought possible. The way he crowded you onto the bathroom cabinet had you lifting yourself up onto it, spreading your legs for him to slot in between them. His lips moved from yours, and he placed chaste kisses along your jawline to your neck, making you giggle a little at the feel of his moustache tickling you. Even though it was a jerk reaction, it still felt incredibly good. His hand moved up your skirts, gliding along your tights and reaching the waistband, pulling them and your panties down with the utmost gentility despite his ever growing desire for you. Your very core now exposed to him, but you felt no embarrassment, no shame, no shyness. The hand that was under your skirts now moved to your vulva and you felt his index finger running through the wetness of your folds. You gasped when he began to play with your clit.

Simultaneously, his mouth nibbled at your ear in between his words. “I never believed I could have you. Never did I think this could happen. I have waited for you for so long now, amore mio. You are everything to me. You are the whole world and everything in it, my reason for living.” He slipped his middle and ring finger inside of you, tapping upwards immediately and hitting that sweet spot over and over again. His fingers had you whimpering. “You are the brightness of the sun and my reason for waking in the morning. You are the calm of the moon and the reason for my serenity. Venus herself is in envy and awe of your beauty. Nothing of this world, of the human mind, could ever come close to your radiance.”

“Copia!”

His words caused an extra fluttering in your stomach when he spoke them, coupled with the feeling of his fingers deep inside you, his thumb working your clit alongside the two that were working invisibly had your entire body shuddering. Your nipples stood erect inside your bra, nudged sometimes by the movement of his body and giving you that extra feeling of overwhelming pleasure. Your mind was numb, filled with nothing but Copia. The low timbre of his voice in your ear, the smell of his cologne, his soft jawline against your cheek. He was everywhere all at once overwhelming you and bathing you in him. “Bene mio.” My happiness. His lips found yours again, his tongue begging for entrance to your mouth as he kissed you feverishly. His fingers working in tandem to bring you over the edge. When you fell, you fell hard. Your toes curling, your eyes seeing white, your breath escaping your body. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he worked you through it, muttering more unintelligible words into your skin that your ears couldn’t understand. Your body felt them though, and came alive at the touch. “Sono innamorato di te.” He told you. He was desperately, undeniably, helplessly in love with you.

You clasped onto his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. His hands, sodden with your cum moved towards your lips once the kiss had finished and you sucked on his fingers, cleaning yourself off of them and earning a gutteral groan in the process. Copia’s cock stood erect in the tightness of his jeans beneath his cassock, barely protruding through the thick material. It was time to show him some mercy and love too. “My beautiful Copia. The kindest man I’ve ever known.” With your own lips attached to the crook of his neck, you began undressing him, sliding his cassock off his shoulders and dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. “You are my reason for living, too. I should have told you sooner but I was too afraid of losing you.” Your hands flew to the waistband of his pants and untied them.

“You could never lose me, amore mio.”

“I know that now. But I didn’t ever want to live a life without you, however small the possibility.” You slipped down off the counter and got on your knees in front of him, the earlier image replaying in Copia’s mind. His hand immediately flew to your hair but his grip tightened when you released his cock from his jeans and gave him a tentative stroke. “I love everything about you,” you licked from base to tip, “your voice,” another lick, “your body,” another, “your brain.” You swirled your tongue around the head, touching repeatedly over his frenulum causing him to hiss. You focused mainly on the head, your own experiences telling you that was generally the most sensitive part, and Copia’s voice and actions confirming. Though his hand was on your head, it was only to keep him cognizant. He wasn’t forcing you to take him deeper like your previous lovers, nor did he guide you at all. You looked up at him through your lashes and saw that his eyes were tight shut. “Look at me, Copia. Watch me on my knees for you, worship you.”

“Amore, I can’t. I will cum too quickly.”

You licked his tip once more. “That’s okay.”

“It’s not. There are more things I wish to do with you tonight.”

His precum was beading at the tip again, and you used your hands to squeeze it into your mouth. Copia watched and pulled completely away from you, almost finishing at the sight of it. “No. Let me take you to bed. If you stay down there a moment longer, I’ll ruin it.”

You stood and kissed him. “You could never.”

He grabbed your hand and took you back into the bedroom, taking the opportunity once you’d arrived to stand and unbutton your habit from behind you. His hands roamed and groped your body as they worked at removing your clothes. He traced every curve he could find, every dip, every bump. When your skin was on display he did the same thing, learning about your body and mapping it out. Your bra was removed quickly so he could admire your breasts and play with your nipples. All the while his lips licked and sucked on your neck, decorating the pristine skin with his marks. He wanted to show the world what he’d done to you, like he was an artist proud of his work. “On the bed, amore mio.” He instructed. You did as he asked and lay on your back, watching him remove his jeans and underwear. All clothes were discarded carelessly on the ground. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

He clambered onto the bed, hovering above your legs. He took his time, tracing his lips from your shins, your thick thighs, your pubic mound, your stomach. He took his time over your nipples, giving them both the proper attention they deserved before he moved up to your neck and finally your lips. He kissed you deeply, passionately, his hands grasping onto your plump hips as his dick needily rubbed against your clit.

No words were exchanged when you felt his cock enter you, stretching you out obscenely to the point where you felt like you’d burst. You broke the kiss, your eyes squeezing tightly shut and your mouth opening in a silent scream. Your entire body felt electrified - your hairs standing on end. Just being cloaked in him, pinned beneath him had you seeing stars, but now he was entering you - finally. He felt incredible, he was incredible.

“No, amore,” you heard him say when he was halfway inside you, his fingers came to caress your cheek once more, “look into my eyes. Look at me while I stretch you.” You obeyed, your eyes locking onto his mismatched ones. Only when he had your complete attention did he continue sinking into you. “Brava ragazza. Take it all like a good girl. Cazzo! So fucking tight.”

You were constricting around him making it damn near impossible for him to breathe. You couldn’t breathe either. “You’re so b-big!” You told him, trying to fight to speak.

He reached the hilt and stayed still, giving you the opportunity to pepper kisses all over his face in your need to be close to him again. Both of your hands were clasped to his cheeks as your lips roamed, yet somehow he still felt too far away. “Sathanas - I can’t move.”

You giggled. “Take your time, my love. You’ve filled me so much, it feels so good.”

He jerked his hips forward. “Merda! Don’t do that. I’m trying not to finish.” There was a big smile on his face as he said it though.

You placed his hand on the bottom of your stomach. “It’s like I can feel you here. You’re so deep.”

His hips moved on their own accord again, but this time he didn’t stop them. His thrusts were shallow and tentative at first, but the more confident he became, the more intense he moved. All of his thrusts hit your cervix causing you to involuntarily cry out each time. He was so deep, filling you in a way you knew you’d become obsessed with. One of your hands was resting near your head, and Copia took the opportunity to grab it and interlock your fingers together. “You’re doing such a good job, my love.” Your voice was breathy as you spoke, so worn out you hardly recognised it. The praise caused Copia to startle forwards and really slam into you. It felt divine. “Copia! Fuck! Do that again.”

“This?” He pulled all the way out and slammed back in.

“Yes! Fuck!”

He did it again.

And again.

And again.

Hitting that spot at the front of your cervix so well. “This is what you wanted, right?” He asked, repeating that motion. Your hand flew down to your clit, your middle finger working away at it quickly in the feral need you had to cum around his cock. He sat back onto his knees to gain more leverage, taking in the sight of you touching yourself while speared on his dick. Every time he entered you, your entire body jiggled with the force. He couldn’t help the noise he made when he saw you for the first time, spread out, pliant and ricocheting off his every move. “Sei così bagnata! You’re so wet. You feel so fucking good!”

“Don’t stop! Please, Copia! Don’t stop!”

“You like that?”

“I’m gonna cum so fucking hard. Please!”

“Vieni per me, amore.” Cum for me, love.

At his request, you shattered. Your back arched off the bed. Somehow your nails found his thigh and scratched down it in an attempt to grasp onto the bedsheets. This, in turn, caused Copia to thrust forward again intensifying the feeling. “I got you. That’s it. Such a good girl for me.”

“Fucking hell!” You finally gasped when you came down from your high. You were lightheaded and it felt like the room was spinning, but your body was on fire. Copia had stopped moving to make sure you were okay. He leant forward and placed another kiss to your forehead before resting his against yours once more. This time he looked directly into your eyes. “Hi.” You whispered, grinning like a lovesick fool.

“Hi.” He copied you.

“Did you-?”

“Not yet, amore mio.”

“Will you cum for me, my love?”

“Are you okay to continue?”

“Of course.”

He nodded and began thrusting again. His movements were deliberately gentle after the intensity of your orgasm but with some reassurance that you were okay, he picked up the pace again. This time he was focusing on his own pleasure, wanting to end your sensitivity and finish quickly. But it seemed like he was too in his head. “You fill me so good, Copia.” You told him. “No one has ever made me feel like this before.”

“N-no?”

“You’re the only one who made me cum. I came so fucking hard because of you. You made me feel incredible.”

“Cazzo!”

“Such a good boy for me.”

“I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum! C-can I cum inside? Please!”

“Cum inside me. Let it all out, sweetheart. That’s it.”

With the final thrust, he emptied himself inside you, painting your walls with his seed. His cock was still buried so deep inside you but his orgasm made him try and get deeper. His head fell onto your chest when he collapsed onto you, a sweaty, exhausted mess but so blissfully fucked out. Your hands immediately went to his hair, stroking through his locks and providing him extra comfort after all the exertion. He tried to pull out of you once he realised the position, but you stopped him from moving, instead turning his head up and kissing him again. Your kisses were short but many, passionate but sleepy. “My Cardinal,” you muttered, “My Copia. I love you.”

“I love you.” He told you. “I always will.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

#mel writes #kinktober 2023 #ghost kinktober #the band ghost #ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #papa emeritus iv #ghost the band #cardinal copia #copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x reader smut #cardinal copia smut #copia smut #copia x reader #copia x reader smut #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader smut #papa emeritus iv smut #papa copia #papa copia smut #papa copia x reader #papa copia x reader smut

[bbangpurin]

today and everyday • lee minho

genre: stray kids lee know fluff. established relationship au.

synopsis: minho is really excited to celebrate your birthday with you, if only he got the day right.

warnings: none.

wc: 1.4k words.

notes: more self-indulgent than anything. submit a request/give me feedback/tell me anything here!

You wake up to Minho’s arms wrapped tightly around your middle, your back pressed against his chest as he places light kisses across the expanse of your shoulder blade, moving his lips slowly up to your neck and reaching the point where your neck and jawline meet. Your lips automatically curl into a smile, your eyes still closed as you relish in the love your boyfriend is giving you for no apparent reason this morning. 

Minho hums in delight as he whispers in your ear a quiet, “Happy birthday, baby,” and you freeze, because you get it now. He thankfully doesn’t notice because he squeezes you again, before removing you from his grasp and turning to get out of your shared bed. 

Your boyfriend moves off the bed and walks into the bathroom, and as you hear the faucet turn on while he begins to wash his face, you breathe out a sigh of relief. Because today is not your birthday — it’s tomorrow — and your overenthusiastic, excitable, sweet boyfriend must have gotten his days mixed up. You chuckle a little at how cute your Minho was, and think about how excited he must have been to be the very first person to greet you on your special day, even if he was wrong. 

You pull yourself out of bed soon after, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes. After washing up and getting ready, you walk into your kitchen to see Minho pouring two mugs of coffee, plates of breakfast warm and ready for you to eat with him. 

“Happy birthday, baby,” Minho says again, putting the coffee pot down and rushing over to wrap you in his arms again. “How did you sleep, bub?” 

Minho is never this touchy, so you hold your tongue at correcting his mistake and squeeze him back tightly, telling him, “Good!” 

“Good,” he responds, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Are you hungry? I made this special for you.” 

“You didn’t have to do so much,” you say, looking down at the pancakes and eggs and bacon on your plates. Minho had so clearly put so much thought into just the first few moments of your day. You weren’t sure how you deserved this. 

“It’s the best day ever,” Minho says without a second thought, “because I get to celebrate you. Of course I had to do this much.” 

You pout at your boyfriend’s words and say a quiet thank you before sitting at the kitchen counter with him and beginning to eat; the sweetness of the maple syrup from your breakfast is almost sweeter than Minho. The situation feels perfect — sunlight streaming through the windows of your kitchen, comfortable silence save for the clinking of your forks against your plates, your favorite boy eating across from you. 

“I’m sorry I have practice today,” he says suddenly, breaking the peaceful quiet. “I really wanted to spend the whole day with you, but we really need to perfect this choreography before next week.” 

You’re about to protest, about to tell him that he didn’t need to worry because your birthday was actually tomorrow, but Minho ruffles your hair and gets up from the counter to put his plate in the sink. 

“I need to run, but I’ll see you after practice and we'll celebrate so much more then! I hope you have a really good day today, bub!” 

You think Minho will be happy to know that you do end up having a really good day. You spend the day resting at home, ordering your favorite takeout for lunch and partaking in your favorite hobbies. You’re just about to start the next episode of the Netflix show you were watching when you hear the front door to your apartment open. 

“Lovey?” You call out, getting up from the couch. You’re a little surprised that Minho’s home so early, when he usually comes home late after practice on days that he and the boys really have to nail a choreography quickly. Even if he thought it was your birthday, it was really unlike him to come home so soon. “You’re back so early?” 

Minho is still standing near the front door frame, and when you meet eyes, Minho pouts and playfully whines, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Minho pads over to you and wraps his arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck to hide his face, which is flushed in embarrassment. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that your birthday is tomorrow?” 

You can’t help the soft giggle that escapes your lips, to which Minho whines in a soft voice again, “Stop it.” He begins thrashing himself around lightly in your arms, and you squeeze him tightly as your giggle develops into a full-bodied laugh. You always think your boyfriend is cute, but you think this — him whining like a baby because he got your birthday wrong, resulting in him needing even more cuddles than usual — might be the cutest he’s ever been around you. 

“Can you stop laughing?” Minho is still whining, but you hear the smile in his voice that tells you he thinks this is all funny too. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” you respond, still trying to catch your breath between laughs. “You were just so excited.” 

“I can’t believe you kept this from me!” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” you say. You press a kiss to Minho’s cheek, and he tangibly softens in your hold. Sometimes he can’t believe himself just how in love he is with you. 

“I’m not going to give you any of the gifts I was going to give you or do any of the things I planned for you tomorrow because you didn’t tell me,” Minho says with a hmph, and he pulls himself out of your grasp to check your reaction. Your lips are set in a pout, eyes wide like a puppy’s and now Minho is the one giggling at just how adorable you’re being. 

“You were just so excited, I didn’t know how to tell you,” you say with a pout and Minho is engulfing you in a hug again as you bury your face into his chest. “It was so cute and special and you made me feel so loved and-”

“And I’m really excited to do it all again tomorrow,” he interrupts before pressing a kiss to your lips. “I got lucky and got to celebrate you twice.” 

You blush and wrap your arms around Minho’s neck. “I love you a lot,” you say. 

“I love you a lot too, baby,” Minho says back softly. “Today and everyday.” 

“Okay, let’s practice the dance one last time before we wrap up for the day,” Minho says, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. The new choreography is tough, but miraculously, he and the boys are picking it up faster than he had expected. Thank goodness, he thinks, so he can get back to seeing you as soon as possible. 

“We’re ending practice this early?” Hyunjin asks, a little shocked at the dance leader ending the schedule earlier than expected. 

“It’s Y/N’s birthday today,” Minho says, unable to conceal his smile. “I want to spend as much time with them as I can today.” 

“Isn’t their birthday tomorrow?” Seungmin asks matter of factly. 

Minho scrunches his eyebrows in confusion, because why would his friend know his partner’s birthday better than he did? “No, it’s today,” he retorts. 

“Wait, yeah,” Hyunjin adds. “When we practiced this last week, didn’t you say we had to practice really hard then so that we didn’t have to practice at all tomorrow specifically because it was Y/N’s birthday?” 

“And you were going to take them on that birthday scavenger hunt?” Jeongin pipes in. 

“What about your dinner reservations at their favorite restaurant?” Jisung asks. 

“Weren’t you going to spend all day with them?” Changbin teases. “Didn’t you say that absolutely nothing would get in the way of that, so we just had to cancel?” 

Minho is stunned listening to the members go on and on about all of the plans he now remembers making for your birthday — plans he must have talked through with them extensively if they could remember it all in this much detail. The boys are laughing now at Minho’s frozen state, a clear semblance of confusion splayed across his features. 

“Did they not tell you or something?” Seungmin asks. 

Minho shakes his head, and the boys hoot. 

#skz #stray kids #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #skz fic #stray kids fic #kpop #bbangpurin #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee know #lee minho #minho #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #minho fluff #lee know imagine #lee minho imagine #minho imagine #lee know fic #lee minho fic #minho fic #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #minho x reader

[tsukana]

GOD but rewatching the bit where phil teleports to the favela and strides into the order again makes me feel so insane like-

the movements of the cubito are expressed so so well because even though you arent hearing the clips of his mouse or keyboard like he's slamming them theres such an intensity and urging purpose behind all of his movements. everything is done efficiently and precisely and it FEELS like im hearing sounds the way you do when etoiles is clack clack clacking away and you can hear him over the stream and every other player in the vicinity.

but when he enters that meeting room? you barely even see him whip around and close the door behind him before he faces forward again. its literally a SPLIT SECOND of motion on the stream. it happens so quickly i genuinely had to take a moment and be like this man just aggressively slammed that door closed. it is a moment that i literally see no way to interpret as any thing BUT q!phil throwing the meeting room door open and slamming it shut behind him in a split second before launching himself into the chair at the head of the table; wanting to slump into it under the weight of everything he's feeling but not being able to because of the tension threaded through his body from the high sense of emotions of exactly what he's just been found and seemingly taunted with, especially given the specific situation differences compared to the rest of the static photos found

(specifically seeing more of the actual egg bodies compared to their items like in the other photos, the photos found at places that are specifically dear to his kids and NOT just in a chest on these fucking freaky alien ships)

just. you can tell that phil himself is definitely feeling the intense emotions, but damn he translated the expression of that into the movement of his character in the game so well.

#qsmp #qsmp lb #q philza #qsmp philza #tsu liveblogs #like i fully believe if i rewatched this entire bit with no facecam and only game footage like the way bbh normally streams #i would still be experiencing this entire range of emotions and come away with the same understanding of q!phil that i have rn #qsmp 10/11/23

[kaz-oooo]

After finding out Bad was paying for the server I can’t help but wonder… what did Dream really do???

Because well… he wasn’t paying for the damn thing, ergo he didn’t really own it. He was just the guy who wanted to play vanilla minecraft with his friends on stream. But beyond that… what did he do?

Tommy and Tubbo for kept the server alive. The second they got whitelisted they were streaming every day, finding new shit to do (like walking up and down the prime path, searching for music discs, adding Wilbur and Schlatt for shits and giggs). Meanwhile everyone else was loosing interest, letting the server die.

And of course there was Wilbur. Tommy and Tubbo brought life, Wilbur brought soul. He saw a cool server that had potential and by God he was going to get himself whitelisted and construct one hell of a Hamilton fanfic story, one that would inspire countless people to create their own silly stories for years to come.

And even after c!Wilbur’s death and the end of the L’manberg era, we still had creators putting their all into this goddamn server. We had more amazing stories like Tommy’s exile, Ranboo’s enderwalk, Doomsday, the prison, Tales of the SMP, the egg AND of course Las Nevadas!! Special shout out to Quackity here, motherfucker was making cinematic experiences with those last few streams!

And that’s what I love about the DSMP. That’s why I hold it so close to my heart. That’s why I’m still writing fanfiction about it 3 years later. Because all these streamers sat down and turned this silly little Minecraft server into something magical.

And Dream’s name is slapped on the front despite the fact he barely lifted a finger.

#dream smp #dsmp #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #tubbo #badboyhalo #quackity #mcyt #big long rant about silly minecraft servers :)

[sapphire-writes]

Down in Flames (modern!HOTD) 2

previous ~ next ~ series masterlist

pairings: modern!Aegon x reader & modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: Aegon and you are just not working out. He disappears and you need a night out with your girls. Drama ensues of course, its never that easy with the band.

warnings: language, drinking, cheating, general sensual themes

word count: 4.9k

note: thanks for all the lovely comments I really hope you enjoy this part there were several moments i literally cackled writing 🤭💚

masterlist

You wake up to a stream of sunlight warming your face, while you lay in Aegon’s bed. Your bed. But Aegon’s bed. The bed you mostly share, if you’re not fighting. You groan looking at the clock. 

7:06 AM. Shit.

You feel as though you just arrived home, Aemond and you had to cart Aegon up the stairs. Luckily he only puked once before you were able to wrestle him into bed. He giggled the entire time, attempting to bite Aemond. Aegon’s a handsy drunk, he nearly ripped your shirt to expose your boobs not caring that his brother was still in the room. It wasn’t until around 4 am did you finally find sleep. 

You looked to Aegon, who was still deep in sleep beside you. As you sat up in bed you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. You could hear movement from the kitchen and knew Aemond must be up. Unlike his brother, Aemond is an early riser, no matter when he turns in for the night. 

You peel yourself from Aegon’s body, rising from bed and stretching. You check yourself in the mirror before leaving the room, making sure you’re somewhat decent. Running your fingers through your hair, you attempt to unknot the mess that’s left from a night out. Thankfully, you remembered to remove your makeup before bed in your tipsy state, your skin has definitely thanked you. 

You close the door behind you as you leave, not bothering to be gentle. Aegon could sleep through gunfire. As you head towards the kitchen you see Aemond’s tall frame moving about the small space, long silver hair rippling behind him like water. 

“That smells good,” you say, snatching a piece of toast from the toaster and walking towards the coffee maker. Aemond doesn’t turn his head at the sound of your voice, continuing to silently cook his eggs on the stove.

“And not yours,” he says, voice still rough from sleep. You shrug taking a bite as you grab a mug and pour yourself a cup of coffee. You prepare it the way you like, before taking a sip, relishing the feeling of warmth that floods through you. 

Aemond’s phone chirps from the counter. 

You place your coffee mug down before hoisting yourself atop it to sit. Aegon often chuckles when he finds you in this position. You’re rarely seated in a chair, always on an elevated surface of some kind. 

The phone buzzes again. 

You raise a brow as Aemond ignores it, continuing to cook. You both continue to exist in comfortable silence as you conduct your morning routines. Though you’re not close with Aemond, Aegon often does not rise until well into the afternoon. It’s never enough sleep though, as he usually doesn’t find dreams until the sun begins to peak over the horizon. Aegon walks around with dark circles under his eyes on most days. 

Aemond’s phone emits a sharp tune, vibrating obnoxiously on the counter as someone calls him. You watch the phone buzz, but it's face down omitting who desperately wants his attention. 

“Someone’s popular,” you say, glancing at the clock on the stove. 

Aemond turns, long fingers stretching to grab his phone. He silences it before pocketing it. 

“Alys,” he says, using the spatula to move the eggs from his pan to his plate. You lift a brow at him. So he’s seeing her again. 

“Rivers?” you clarify and he nods, a slight smirk on his face. You swing your legs back and forth taking another sip of coffee. You can’t help your curiosity. 

“It’s a little early for a booty call,” you tell him, and he grabs the second piece of toast from the toaster and places it on top of his eggs. He only responds with a hum, low in the back of his throat.

“Isn’t she a mother?” you ask him, remembering her age. You had only met Alys a handful of times, she wasn’t very friendly nor did she like to hang out with the other members of the group. When Aemond was with her, they often disappeared. 

“Not in the traditional sense,” Aemond answers, causing your eyebrows to knit together in confusion. 

“Okay…whatever that means,” you say, earning a small chuckle from him. A rarity. 

“What’s a MILF want with you?” you question, head tilting to the side. Aemond moves to walk past you, but stops in front of you. It’s hard to choose a place to look when you’re face-to-face with Aemond. That in itself was a rarity, Aemond was significantly taller than you. But sitting on the counter, you were able to meet his eyes; violet and blue, a lazy smirk across his face. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says, before plucking the remainder of toast from your hand and adding it to his plate. He moves by you, legs brushing yours to go sit at the small table. You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment, before scrunching your nose.

“Ew,” you say, hopping down from the counter hoping he doesn’t notice the blush that paints your cheeks, “I’m showering.”

“Don’t use all the hot water,” he snaps, shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth. 

When you finish showering, Aemond is gone. Probably off to the gym. He spends hours at a time training. You return to Aegon’s room to get dressed, towel wrapped around you. He is sprawled out on the bed, still deep in sleep. 

“Aeg,” you call, as you pull on a lace bra and matching underwear. He groans but doesn’t open his eyes. You tug on a pair of jeans, hopping in the air to assist you in getting them on.  

“I gotta go to work,” you tell him, pulling a tank top over your head. Aegon groans again and you sit on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t forget, you have rehearsal later,” you tell him, flicking the ring that hangs from his right nipple, “Jace will literally kill you if you’re late again.”

Aegon moans louder this time, eyes opening into slits as he looks at you. He pouts, sticking out his bottom lip before turning over.  

“Come to bed,” he murmurs, reaching toward you. 

“I told you, I can’t,” you tell him, annoyed, moving off the bed and away from his grabbing hands, “I have work.”

“You’re so cruel,” he mumbles, falling back into sleep, and turning away from you onto his stomach. You put your hands on your hips.

“You only want me when you can’t have me,” you snap at him. It’s a painful blow to throw at him this early, but you’re still bitter from last night. Aegon doesn’t respond, breathing deeply. You feel tears welling in your eyes, and you angrily wipe them away. 

“I’m breaking up with you,” you tell his sleeping form, “I am.”

Aegon snores in response. 

You work part-time, picking up shifts when you can at your favorite local coffee shop, Stepstones. You worked there full-time while at university, but as the band grew and you officially entered the groupie lifestyle you had to cut back.

Rhaena is opening when you arrive. She smiles at you from behind the counter as the bell alerts her of your arrival. 

“Figured you’d be late,” she teases, tossing you a work shirt, “long night and all.”

You throw the shirt over your tank top groaning as you do so. Your limbs are tired and heavy from the weight of the previous night. Little sleep didn’t help. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you tell her, but a smile is on your face. You glance around at the empty shop.

“Just us?” 

Rhaena nods.

“Uh-huh,” she says, slouching over the counter until her head rests on top of it. The cafe is owned by Rhaena and Baela’s grandparents and is a local treasure. 

“Aegon and I broke up,” you tell Rhaena, who raises her eyebrows. 

“Does Aegon know?” she asks and you sigh.

“No he was asleep,” you tell her, earning a stifled laugh. Rhaena shakes her head. 

“Oh Y/N,” she says, and the way she says it makes your heart hurt. Rhaena has such a gentle way about her, much like Helaena. 

“Yeah,” you say, to fill the silence. 

“Let’s go out tonight,” Rhaena says, as the door chimes signaling a customer. 

“Ugh, I don’t know Rhae,” you tell her, already feeling the exhaustion creeping up on you. 

“Pleeeeasee,” Rhaena begs, pouting her lip and making the most adorable face at you. How can you deny that face?

“It will be fun, I promise,” she links her fingers together, “I’ll make you your absolute favorite drink in the whole world if you say yes.”

You nod, giving in, before plastering a customer service grin on your face. 

“Where’s Aegon?” Helaena asks when you arrive at the studio. You and Rhaena are supposed to be the last to arrive, but as you enter you realize this is not the case. Baela sits with Jace on the couch, tawny legs stretched across his lap. You frown. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, reaching for your phone, “I was at work.”

“Shit,” Jace says, running a hand through his brown hair. Aemond sits on the stage, bass slung across his back. Luke groans at your response, throwing his head back, earning a look of annoyance from Aemond. 

“Fucking perfect,” Aemond says, glaring at you. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“He’s your brother,” you quip back, causing Aemond to sneer.

“I’m not his keeper.”

“Neither am I.”

Jace walks to stand between you, even though there is a considerable distance between Aemond and you. He knows how quickly things can turn. Jace had to carry you from the room once when Aemond had said something a little too cruel to Luke, causing you to immediately come to his defense. 

“What are you going to do about it princess?,” he called, with a sadistic glint in his eye. 

Aemond had taunted you the entire time as you thrashed against Jace’s grip as he carried you from the room over his shoulder. It must be something about Targaryen men that makes your blood boil. 

Jace gives you a hesitant look, holding his arms in front of him. Always the peacemaker, Jacaerys Velaryon. You raise an eyebrow at him. Aemond cracks his knuckles. 

“Do you have any idea where he could be?” Jace asks and you shrug. 

“Last time I saw him he was in bed,” you tell him, “but that was hours ago, I was working all day.” 

Helaena twirls in a circle on the stage, the long sleeves of her shirt flowing behind her. She tilts her head to the ceiling, lost in thought. Luke watches her, lips parted as though entranced by her silent dance. 

“He needs to be here tomorrow,” Jace says, nervously pacing, “we’re meeting with Otto about the album.”

You wave Jace’s concern off. Aegon will show up by then. He always does. 

“There’s no gig tonight, right?” you ask.

“No, but that doesn’t mean he can miss rehearsals,” Aemond snaps, eyes meeting yours once more. 

“Dude, can you chill for one second?” Luke asks, and you watch Aemond’s jaw tighten at his words. Helaena stops her dance, coming to sit next to her brother. She rests a hand to his shoulder. 

“I wanted to work on the lyrics to that new song anyway,” Helaena says, “remember the one I was working on? The Queen Who Never Was?”

The tension in the room is palpable, but Helaena continues despite it. 

“It’s going to be a beautiful piece,” she says smiling, “a really narrative-driven song.” She squeezes Aemond’s shoulder. 

“Edit it for me?” she asks, jutting her chin towards the couches. Aemond responds with a hum, and Helaena clasps him on the shoulder before the siblings rise from the stage. 

“You’ll still come out later right?” Baela asks from the couch, as Aemond and Helaena take a seat across from the couple. 

“I should probably go home and see if Aegon shows up,” you tell her, causing her to frown. She shakes her head, curls bouncing, rising from her seat. 

“Come home, you’re real home,” Baela says, grabbing your arm, “Aegon will show up later, come get ready with us to go out and just have a good night. A girls' night.”

“Hey! We’re coming too,” Luke calls, holding his arms out, taking offense. 

“Yeah but still, it’ll be fun,” Baela says, giving you puppy dog eyes. Rhaena sits on the couch opposite Helaena and Aemond. 

“You gonna come?” Rhaena asks. Her voice is hopeful. Aemond doesn’t look up from the pages he reads of Helaena’s scribbled lyrics. 

“Maybe,” he answers, causing you to sigh and roll your eyes. Only then does he look up, head turning to face you. 

“What about this line?” Helaena murmurs, recapturing his attention. 

Baela continues to beg, and you finally agree. 

You’re feeling petty tonight, settling on an outfit that shows an inviting amount of skin; leaving little to the imagination. You feel confident as you fix your hair, allowing Rhaena to apply your eyeliner in the style she says gives you ‘bedroom eyes.’ She bites her lip in concentration, her hand never wavering. 

“And use this,” Baela says, digging through her makeup bag and tossing you a tube of lipgloss. 

“Is lipgloss back in?” Rhaena asks, causing Baela to raise a brow at her. 

“Was it ever out?” 

You release a breathy laugh, attempting to keep your face still so as to not mess up Rhaena’s hard work. 

“Damn,” Baela says, dragging out the word as she looks at your finished look. 

“Aegon better show up tonight,” Rhaena says, appreciating her work, “or someone’s going to steal you away.”

“Shut up,” you say, standing and going over to the mirror. You do look amazing. The outfit you chose has been sitting in the back of your closet since your early days trailing after the band. It accentuates your boobs, your butt, your thighs. You put the lipgloss on, puckering your lips. 

“Seriously, you look hot as hell Y/N,” Baela says, eyes wide, “I’m leaving Jace for you.”

You throw the tube of lipgloss at her, causing her to shriek. You feel a sudden pain in your heart at the compliments. Yeah, you are a catch. Aegon should be worried about you going out without him. But he doesn’t care at all. And that hurts. Not that you’re looking for a crazy possessive boyfriend, but a little old fashioned jealousy wouldn’t hurt. 

“Jace would allow it!” Baela shrugged. Rhaena nods in agreement. 

“We all look hot,”you confirm. Rhaena clicks her tongue, swinging her dreads over her shoulder. Balea fluffs up her curls, before adding a finishing touch to her lips. 

The Red Keep is vibrating with energy when you arrive. The club is massive, with two levels, and the walls are lined with red leather couches. Raised dancing poles are scattered throughout the room, some people have begun to climb on them with their friends, swinging on the poles as amateur dancers. You head toward the bar to grab drinks. 

“When are the boys coming?” you ask Rhaena, as Baela grabs the bartender’s attention. 

The poor guy’s eyes nearly pop out of his head at the sight of Baela and Rhaena, the fierce beauties they are. The drinks spill as his hands shake. 

“I texted Aemond, no answer of course,” Rhaena said, rolling her eyes, “but Luke said he and Jace were a couple of minutes behind us.”

“Typical,” you said, as Baela handed you the drink she ordered. Vodka cranberry. Classic. 

You wondered if Aemond would show up at all. He was probably so pissed at Aegon, just waiting at the apartment for him to come home so he could kill him. Not that he actually would, but you know. You take a sip from your drink, taking in the energy of the club, bobbing your head to the music. 

“Oh. My. God.”

Rhaena’s mouth has dropped open, eyes toward the door. Baela and you lock eyes, both with confused looks on your faces, before following her line of sight. 

Oh fuck. 

So Aemond did decide to show up. Dressed in a black button down, open at the top revealing the smooth skin of his chest, the dangling of a silver coin hung on a chain around his neck. He wears his hair completely down, flowing across his shoulders. But that’s not what made Rhaena’s mouth drop open, or  caused Baela’s flabbergasted expression, or the parting of your own lips. It’s who’s on his arm.

Alys Rivers. The mysterious recurring plaything in Aemond Targaryen’s life. Seemingly, the only woman who can pull him. She’s annoyingly pretty, with dark hair that matches her dark eyes. They almost appear to have flames dancing in them when the lights reflect on them. She’s wearing a low cut dress, a deep forest green showing off her assets. 

You know she’s older, in her mid-forties or something, and she still looks like a goddess. Her lips are red as blood and she smiles, showing a row of pearly white teeth. 

“Didn’t realize he’s seeing her again,” Baela said, taking a sip from her drink. Rhaena looks away, flustered from their entrance. 

You watch as Aemond leads Alys to the opposite side of the bar, holding onto her hand. Rhaena brings a hand to her face, fiddling with her lips as though adjusting her lipstick.  

“You know I heard she’s a witch,” you tell Rhaena, “she probably did some spell to make Aemond obsessed with her.”

Rhaena smiles at that, though you know it's not true. Well, you have heard that Alys is a practicing Wiccan, but from your earlier interaction with Aemond, it seems that Alys is the one obsessed with him. 

“Aemond must eat pussy like a champ,” Baela says, matter of factly. 

“Bae!” Rhaena says, turning beet red. You laugh uncomfortably, a nervous smile on your lips feeling your face begin to flush. Baela only frowns and shrugs her shoulders, as if she hasn’t just said the most pornographic sentence of the evening.

“What?” she says, looking between you and Rhaena, “Oh come on! You think Alys is with him for his sparkling personality?”

You glance back at the couple, watching Alys gain the attention of the bartender. Aemond leans behind her, before glancing in your direction. You quickly turn around, hoping he did not see you. 

“I’m gonna look for Helaena,” you tell the twins, nodding towards the dance floor. Helaena is always in the mood to dance, it’s often hard to get her to leave a club.  

Packed with people, you push your way through the crowd toward the dance floor, eyes hunting for Helaena. 

You spot silver curls and reach out to grab her shoulder. Much to your surprise, Laena Velaryon turns around, the second girlfriend of Daemon Targaryen. Well, only girlfriend, but everyone knows Daemon is screwing Rhaenyra. Not that Laena seems to mind, the two seem to enjoy each other’s company. A throuple then? You’re not sure, you find it dizzying trying to keep up with Daemon’s relationships. 

“Y/N!” she says, throwing her arms around you. 

“Laena! Hi!” you say, unable to hide your surprise. 

“Ohmygod I did not expect to see you!” she says, looking behind you, “are the twins here?”

“Yeah, they’re at the bar.”

“I’ll have to say hi,” she says, continuing to talk, “oh my god you’ll never believe it, Rhaenyra is meeting with the label Iron Throne tomorrow! They’re offering her a deal or something.”

Your heart quickens. Rhaenyra was racing against the band for the rights to her song. 

“Wow, that is amazing!” you tell her and she smiles again. 

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” she says, pushing further into the crowd.

“Yeah totally!” you say, though you don’t expect to see her again. Just wait until Baela and Rhaena hear that she’s here. 

You continue to search for Helaena but decide she must have not started dancing yet. You decide to head back to the bar to see if Jace and Luke have arrived. You walk around the edge of the club, near people who sit on the red leather couches. You spot a familiar face and turn quickly, nearly losing your balance with the heels you are wearing. Damn Baela for making you wear these impractical stilettos. 

“Y/N,” Daemon calls from his spot on the couch. You should’ve known if Laena was here, Daemon would be too. He licks his lips as you approach him, eyes shamelessly caressing your body. He’s wearing a dark maroon silk shirt, the color of blood. Several rings adorn his fingers, catching in the light. 

“Daemon,” you greet him, giving him a polite smile. 

“It’s nice to see you,” he said, motioning for you to sit. You continue standing, causing his mouth to shrug. You glance around, looking for your friends. You spot Helaena’s silver head on the dance floor, hands in the air as she loses herself in the music. 

“Where’s Rhaenyra?” you ask, bringing your eyes back to him. Daemon smiles.

“Resting,” he answers, finishing the dregs of his drink, “she’s got a big day tomorrow.”

“So I hear.”

“I hear Dracarys is making moves as well,” he says, mischief in his eyes, “recording an album?”

You let your eyebrows rise and fall, appearing uninterested in the conversation. You look to your left, eyes catching Aemond’s, as he leans against the bar. Alys is with him still, her hand snaked around his slender waist. She’s whispering something to him, as he stares back at you. 

“Something like that,” you answer, as Daemon leans forward. He holds his empty glass out to you. You tear your eyes from Aemond and Alys and take the glass from him, placing it on a high rise behind you for someone to discard. 

Daemon doesn’t lean back, he instead brings his hand to trace up your bare calf leaving a trail of fire behind. His fingers lazily dance a path up to the back of your thigh, before he applies pressure, pulling you towards him. 

“You still seeing Aegon?” he asks, looking up at you through his silver lashes as you now stand between his thighs. He is much older than you. Not that it matters, you’re both adults. Hell, if Aemond can be with someone like Alys Rivers you could certainly bag Daemon Targaryen. 

“Something like that,” you repeat, and Daemon nods, hand coming to the side of your thigh, thumb rubbing circles against it. 

You raise an eyebrow at his bold actions. Daemon is nothing if not bold. And you can’t deny he’s attractive. All Targaryens seem to be. 

“Two girlfriends not cutting it?” you remark.

“All good things come in threes,” he murmurs, continuing his caresses, “how bout you grab me another drink?”

“Your legs broken?” you quip, looking towards the bar. Aemond and Alys have vanished. 

“Feisty as ever I see,” he says, smirking. You’ve had enough of him for tonight, bringing your hand to brush him off of your thigh. 

“Fuck off,” you tell him, and he holds his hands up in surrender. Daemon leans back, lacing his fingers together before letting them rest behind his head. 

“Another time then,” he says as you move away from him, heading towards the dance floor. 

Rhaena joins you as well. 

“Where’s Baela?” you ask, yelling above the music. 

She points to the couch, the opposite side of the room from where Daemon sits. Baela is straddling Jace, deep in a makeout session. Damn.

“Everyone’s having fun I guess,” Rhaena says, motioning to another area of the couch. Your eyes follow and spot Aemond and Alys again. Alys is lost in conversation with someone seated on the floor next to her, as she sits between Aemond’s legs, head resting on his thigh. You look up at him. 

He’s watching you again.

You wonder if he ever took his eye off of you, even when you couldn’t see him. Aemond takes a sip from his glass, eye locked on yours, peering over the rim of the glass. 

You turn back to Rhaena. Her mouth is twisted in disappointment. You begin to smirk.

“C’mon,” you say, grabbing her hand, “let’s show him what he’s missing out on.”

Rhaena’s eyes light up as you lead her toward one of the empty raised platforms. You hoist yourself up before offering her your hand, helping her on the stage. You place your hand on the slick metal pole.

“Y/N,” Rhaena says, giggling nervously. You glance to where Aemond was seated. His eye follows you. You slide your hand up the pole, curling around it before wiggling your hips as you slide down. Rhaena joins you, laughing while she does, mimicking the movement of your hips. 

You continue to dance, all the while making sure Aemond is watching. His gaze never falters. In fact, his lips appear to part as he continues to stare.

You turn around, hand above your head as you press your ass against the pole, before sliding down. You watch as Aemond’s head tilts to the side, a curious expression on his face. Your breathing is becoming erratic, and blood pounding in your ears. 

You hear a howl from below you and break your gaze from Aemond’s. Luke has joined, his eyes wide, a grin stretching across his face. His eyes are locked on Rhaena, pupils are blown as he watches her. He raises his drink to you both, as he continues dancing. Baela and Jace have joined as well, cheering you on. 

You reach down to Luke, pulling him on the stage as you resume standing. He grabs the pole and begins to dance around it, causing Rhaena to shriek with laughter. Jace hoists himself up as well, bringing Baela with him and suddenly you’re all crushed against each other in a giggling dancing mess. 

You hop down away from your friends, nearly twisting your ankle. A pair of hands steady you. You look up into a pair of warm brown eyes. The man smiles, quickly allowing himself a glance at your body, before returning his gaze to your face.

“Looked like you needed a hand,” he says, a lopsided grin stretching across his face. 

“Thanks,” you say, returning his smile.

“I’m Cregan.”

“Y/N.”

Cregan runs a hand through his hair, a similar shade of brown. Oh he is cute. 

“Buy you a drink?”

“She’s taken.”

You hadn’t even noticed Aemond make his way over to you, arm slung over Aly’s shoulders. You feel your cheeks heat with anger at the half smirk on Aemond’s face. Cregan assesses Aemond with confusion, noting his arm that remains on Alys. 

“I’m not-”

“That’s my brother’s girl you’re talking to,” Aemond says, cutting you off. Your jaw clenches. Cregan looks at you, takes in your expression. 

“We broke up,” you tell Cregan, half meaning it. Aemond scoffs. 

“They do this all the time,” Aemond tells him, “trust me dude. You don’t want to get in the middle of that.”

Cregan nods, meeting your eyes. You watch helplessly as he shoves his hands in his pocket. 

“Got it,” he says, turning to leave, “nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You watch as he disappears into the crowd, an annoyed expression on your face. 

“Hey Y/N,” Alys purrs, giving you a once over. You give her a fake smile watching as she runs a hand across Aemond’s broad chest. Her nails are painted red, matching her lips. 

“Hey Alys,” you tell her, “so nice seeing you.”

“Likewise,” the older woman says, red lips in a smirk. She gives you a quick once over, lashes fluttering. She touches the hand that Aemond has rested on her shoulder. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” she tells him, unwrapping herself from him and heading to the bar. Aemond looks down at you. 

“What is your problem?” you accuse, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“You gonna fuck that guy?” he asks. 

“So what if I do? It’s none of your business what I do, and who I choose to sleep with!” you tell him.

Aemond only scoffs, leaning over you. 

“Aegon’s your boyfriend.”

“Then where is he!” you yell, anger getting the better of you, “if he gives a shit about where I am or who I’m with? Where is he?”

Aemond doesn’t answer, he simply continues to glare down at you. Baela has noticed the argument, nudging Jace as she hurriedly climbs down off of the platform. 

You spot Cregan at the bar. As you’re turning to leave, Aemond grabs your arm. His lips are curved into a predatory snarl. 

“Don’t,” he says, voice a low warning. 

“Make me,” you challenge, watching him set his jaw. Every angle of his face looks like it could cut you into pieces. 

You pull your arm from his grasp, leaving just as Baela and Jace approach.

“Okay, time to go,” Jace says, clapping his hands together. Baela is already on her phone, calling an Uber. Aemond hums angrily, before leaving to find Alys. 

“Hey, you,” you say, walking up to Cregan. His eyebrows lift in surprise and he appears to choke on his drink. 

“Me?” he says, half joking.

“Yeah,” you tell him, huffing with anger, “give me your phone.”

He reaches into his back pocket, a smile threatening to burst across his face. You create a new contact by putting your number in. 

“Call me, text me, whatever,” you tell him, returning his phone, “I’m single. Okay?”

He blinks, a smile coming across his face. Cregan looks at you, dragging his eyes over your body from head to toe. A wolf, whose prey has come willingly to greet him. 

“Okay,” he agrees as you turn on your heel to leave.

“Badass,” Baela says, slapping your butt as you walk out of the club to meet your Uber.

taglist: @padfooteyes, @herfantasyworldd, @kyuupidwrites, @lost-and-founds, @doublesparrows, @virginslut08, @f4ll-for-you, @violet2507, @itsabby15, @raphaellathedragon, @tswiftsthings, @cruelmissdior, @tempt-ress

note: kisses ily all so much MWAH 😘

#aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aemond x reader #aegon x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targrayen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond angst #aemond smut #aemond hotd #modern!hotd #modern hotd #modern!aemond #modern!aegon targaryen #modern au #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #aemond stannies

[fizzyorange-v2]

the fucking FORESHADOWING of tilín’s death on this stream was insane. firstly you had when slime approached roier and roier joked “tilín is dead” and slime briefly freaked out before roier laughed and said he was only kidding and that he was looking after her for the day. and then the SECOND part came later when slime was protecting both tilín and flippa from some mobs and tilín got too close and slime was like “oh watch out tilín i have a hell of a backswing haha!”

and not ten fucking minutes later… guess what happens.

i genuinely cannot fucking believe that not only did roier make a joke about tilín dying, but charlie literally lightheartedly teased her about getting too close to his sword so soon before. it really was like some fucked up chekov’s gun shit. chekov’s motherfucking egg .

#qsmp #qsmp analysis #qsmp spoilers #q!slime #q!slimecicle #q!charlie #q!roier #tilín #fizz character thoughts

[robby-bobby-tommy]

Well, ig it's time for me to talk about one of my favorite lores and streamers at this point.

Fit MC of 2B2T and his tragedy.

Honestly, when I watched the launch of QSMP I was full on Philza watcher. I never knew Fit before, but I was charmed by his voice, humor and friendship with crow father. And honestly I never even expected any lore from him, so when his first lore stream happened I was pleasantly surprised! So, I really want to express how much I love Fit's lore. It's not in your face and has a lot of subtle hints and build up. Honestly, it's not an essay but rather an expression of true admiration of masterful story telling in form of incoherent ramblings.

(I'll try to compose it, but I can't promise it'll always be coherent)

So let's start with quick review of his lore. FitMC of 2B2T is, evidently from the oldest anachy server. It's described as wasteland, where you can't trust or be trusted. Once he was approached by a person, whom Fit can't remember. It was a contractor who sent our favorite war criminal to the Qsmp with a mission to steal player data. Everything up from there is in vods.

Well, it is a great start, isn't it? At this point we have a very sad start. Practically no trust and emotional connection to anything. The eternal destruction, explosions, deaths and betrayals don't teach you anything different. So once he came to the server, I imagine, Fit didn't care about anything but mission. Player data and that's all, but right from the start this mindset started to change because of the greatest misfortunes of any mercenary or a 2b2t player. Emotional connection.

So now let me break this up into some sections.

Philza: you really thought I won't bring him up? As a greatest (platonic) Fitza/Wallflower duo enjoyer or just a Phil watcher, I couldn't leave him out of this post. I really think that Fit's learning started with crow father. From the start we know that they're at least are acquaintances. But throughout all this months they grew into something more. Philza's trust is hard to get, but if you get it this'll be worth it. Yet Fit got it. Throughout the good old days of Qsmp, when everything was easier, Fitza always were together. No matter was it a life threat or a camping trip with kids, they're with each other. Trusting to each other enough to letting each other in eggs' homes. And after feces hit the fan, it didn't change. A person, who was taught to never trust a soul and to survive no matter what, was standing there, saying "I'm with you, Phil" In the midst of attack. The trust between them is just incomprehensible. A paranoid hardcore survivor and a war criminal, with a lot of secrets and separetion anxiety, became best friends. If anything goes South for Phil, Fit'll be spying, controlling situation. If a wise crow ever starts loosing his sense of reality, this soaked in blood hand will lay on his shoulder, reassuringly. And it isn't one sided. If Fit needs anything Philza instantly passes him it ("You're too good to me"). Phil shares everything he can with Fit and even trusted the Dream to him. And Fit even had a small separation anxiety attack, just cuz Phil was gone for a few seconds. They are so close, Fit even considered letting in Phil on his purpose, Aaaaah... They're gonna be the death of me. Philza learned Fit friendship/ platonic love.

"You [Phil] and I [Fit].... We walk into churches and they burn just by our presence."

Ramon: the baby boy made in heaven by God himself. There's so much to be said here. Once again, coming into the island, Fit never expected to connect with someone, especially to have a son. After having a rocky relationship with Spreen was left one on one with a child. The absurdity of situation is just as laughable, as ironic. A man, who's hobby was killing kids with no back thought, was now stuck with a child, having no idea of how to raise him. And, honestly, he did pretty good! He gave Ramon freedom, but always was here, close enough to help if needed. Of course he wasn't the saint, yet he always tried to be as honest as he could, even letting him on the "Family secret". Ramon loves his dad, and it's obvious by how he helps Fit with his job, building him a communication with his contractor. The little one even taught this cold person to be kinder and more open. They only have each other. And Fit is ready to do anything if it means he'd get to leave with his baby boy by his side. Also I don't wanna hear a scrap about 2b2t historian not caring about his son's disappearance. He does. After behaving and distancing himself from his past antics, he decided to burn the ship, where Ramon lost his first life, just to avenge his baby. He visits his sons house every stream, looking if maybe he came back. If you want any prove of how much they care about each other search Ramon's graduation. They made each other better and their love is just aaahhh. I love them. Ramon taught Fit parental love.

"Baby boy, made in heaven, by God himself.."

PacTW: the last, but not least, Pacman himself. Oooh, love, oooh, lover boy.... Now, I haven't watched a lot of their interactions, but from all I've seen they're suuuuper in love/crush. All those little glances to each other, protection, quality time... Honestly, I think these two videos explain everything. They trust each other and at least have a crush on each other. And once again, there're a lot of small moments that prove this point. Fit having a small panic attack over not seeing pac for a few seconds and even helping to find Walter Bob and Mike. And Pac, no matter how much he loves Mike, didn't drop Fit after the latter was accused of being a traitor. Love is blooming, and even though it's "baby steps" These are still steps. It takes a lot to relearn trust and especially this kind of intimacy, when all you knew before was war, betrayal and lie. And thus Pac taught him love and trust.( I'm not big on shipping but every time hide duo hug my life gets a little better).

"Baby steps, chat. Baby steps. (Puts roses Pac gifted him)"

But, why did I call Fit and his fate tragic, and then just list all the good interactions Qsmp gave him. After all he experienced at 2b2t , this island seems like a heaven. But, Fit was, is, and forever will be stranger at the paradise (this man is way too good at presenting lore. Even music gives us soo much things to think about... I love it.). No matter how much Fit loves people around him and feels this being reciprocated, he'll never have this full closure. He knows and believes that once everyone knew his mission, they'll hate him. Even people I listed before. He'll never be fully honest with anyone (apart from Ramon), and no matter how people love him. Fit truly feels for Baghera, when she told him about her past and her fear of telling it to BBH. It is literally what he struggles with. This dialogue has a lot of good foils and parallels. The fear of their past, full trust/ forced lie, darkness/ light, and eventually positive outlook. Baghera was eventually able to trust Bad with her secret, yet Fit wasn't. But this paradise spoiled this war criminal. It made him more trusting, more social. Fit can't now be alone, cuz he connected with people. This server, though is full of secrets, lies and danger, is still a paradise. A heaven on earth for a lonely man...

So the last part of this long ahh post is about his desire. The one thing that convinced Fit to go to qsmp. Freedom. Which he doesn't have. By making this deal with Contractor he fell into the trap. He must to find this player data, or else he'll return to the world he tried to escape. For forever. With no way out. But once he came to the server, Cucurucho will never let him go. So he's now in double trap. Yet the biggest trap is Ramon. He's prepared to sacrifice everything for his baby boy, and can't leave the island without him. And without Ramon Fit wouldn't be able to contact the contractor. So in creating connections, Fit traps himself further.

I can't really call it a character analysis, but it's all I see in Fit's lore. A very lonely war criminal, that got so tired of distrust and destruction, that he agreed on a spy mission. But once his mission started he learned how to love and care, that he trapped himself further. Love isn't a miracle that saves you, but it's a very useful tool. Once you learn to understand and reciprocate it, life may become better. (Sorry, it's super cheesy, but I think it encompasses Fits character very good) .

Fit is a spy. They're not supposed to have a family and love, because they can't stay for long. And I think at first, Fit saw everything and everyone as just a means to an end. Just the player data. But after all that has passed he can't be the same. He has a son, friends and a possible love interest. Will he be able to still continue his mission? Will he still betray them and they're trust? I don't know.

But I now I love how cc! Fit does his lore. It isn't so in the face and doesn't affects other, yet it is so layered. Everything is so important down to the music choice aaaaagh. I don't even pretend to analyse everything in his lore like contractor, memory loss, head aches and ect.

I just love it. It's marvelous.

#qsmp #q fitmc #qsmp fitmc #fitmc #q philza #qsmp philza #philza #q pac #qsmp pac #pactw #qsmp ramón #qsmp ramon #qsmp rambles #qsmp analysis #qsmp character analysis #fitmc lore #this rabbit hole is so deep yet so interesting #btw i hope it's obvious that i talked about characters this whole post. apart from start and finish. #also sorry for ramblings and terrible English. #I've said it before and I'll say it again. English isn't my first language; sorry #hide duo #wallflowerduo #hideduo #fitza #qsmp baghera #q baghera

[tangyangie]

hurt/comfort karma x reader where reader sleeps on the couch after karma says really hurtful things (reader’s being annoying, a hassle, high maintenance and difficult to be with, etc) except reader can’t sleep bc they can’t stop crying at karma’s words :(

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 🌖

desc. karma x gn!reader, where karma's being mean to reader. he comforts them after, but they couldn't sleep at first.

notes. i'm not good at writing angst and i don't know how to make them actually mean 😭😭 so i'm sorry if this feels a little awkward...

it's 3:07 in the morning right now.

you've been tossing and turning on the couch for who knows how long, and it feels so hot, you swear you could fry an egg on your forehead.

your head hurts and your cheeks are dry, except for the streams of tears running down the sides of you face before hitting your ears and reaching the pillow.

it's that really intense kind of crying. the kind you physically cannot stop, no matter how hard you may try.

you're just so hurt.

how... how could he have said something like that? you must have been having a nightmare.

you got into an argument. you barely remember what the cause of it was, but it was over something really stupid. definitely not worth the gallons of tears you'd already soaked the couch with.

he was barely paying any attention to you, as you tried to explain your side. but all he did was get angry.

he's always been a tease, you know this. you wouldn't have gotten with him if you weren't able to handle it.

but this—this was definitely not plain old teasing. he called you annoying.

a hassle.

difficult.

impossible, even, to deal with.

he's definitely insensitive in terms of what he says. it's unfortunate that you had to be sensitive to the things he says.

and so, here you are. you're surprised that you haven't run dry yet, from all the tears you've spilled. your nose is completely stuffed, and you can barely breathe through your mouth either —from your small hiccups.

you get up to blow your nose and wash your face, hoping that you calm down. that's when you heard a door slowly swing open, as well as the shutting noise it made after it was closed.

"...y/n?" you heard from the hallway.

you definitely didn't feel like talking to him. not right now. but, there wasn't really anywhere for you to go.

"what do you want?" you ask, lowering your eyebrows.

he stays silent at first. just hearing your sniffles was enough to put him to shame.

"i'm really sorry." he whispers.

you stay silent, turning to sit back on the couch.

"i mean it," he adds. "i know what i said was wrong. i'm not asking you to say my actions were okay."

you don't really know how to reply. "i want to forgive you.. but your words hurt." you say, with a shaky breath. "i need you to tell me you'll never do that again."

"i promise. i won't." he says, standing behind the couch.

you turn around with your chest against the backrest, facing him. "are you sure?" you say, your eyes slowly beginning to stop watering.

he nods, honestly looking apologetic. "i'm sure."

"...alright. go back to bed, and i'll join you in a few." you sigh, standing up to wash your face again.

he moves as if he wants to say something—but chooses not to, and nods.

after drowning your face with cold water, you pat a towel on your face and take a deep breath. you exit the bathroom and head into the hallway, towards your bedroom. you can feel your heartbeat and hear your footsteps as they step down.

you slowly open the door, peeking your face through first.

karma's laying down above the covers, with his hands under his head. he sees you, and props himself up, patting the bed on the spot beside him.

"here. come lay down." he smiles softly. you carefully walk over to the other side of the room, hopping on the bed and shifting over. you turn on your side, mirroring karma.

"hey." you whisper. "it's surprising that you're not back to teasing me within seconds." you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

"i can do that," he whispers, inching closer. "or... i can be nice. whichever you prefer."

"how about you stay quiet and give me a hug?" you say, watching his face slightly light up.

"...thank you, y/n." he smiles, giving you the hug you asked for.

notes: AUGHHH I SUCK AT WRITING ANGST IM SO SORRY this is probably so bad 💔 and again i'm sorry everyone for taking so long for these reqs!!!

#screaming in the void #and the void screams back #assassination classroom #ass class #fluff #angst #karma #hee hee #karma akabane #karma akabane x reader #akabane karma x reader #karma x reader #akabane karma #ass class x reader #assassination classroom x reader #fyp #reader fic

[bleedingmusk]

Ya Allaah I gear up my tawakkul and hopes on You I expect impossible from You my Lord who is indeed the Lord of impossible, Who made possible for Your virgin untouched chaste slave to nurture a small human in her womb and gave birth in best of form, You who kept Your beloved slave alive in a belly of whale for certain days and nights, You who made the blazing hot fire cool for Your intimate friend, You who saved Your sincere slave and his people when the whole world was drowning, You who spilt the sea into two for Your close slave when he was stricken with impossibility, You who fulfilled the barren old womb of wife of Your fearing slave with a living soul, You who uplifted Your patient slave into heavens under and keeping under Your care, You who have flowed streams of holy water in the middle of desert for Your tired hungry slave, You who made spider weave a web in matters of second and Who willed for a peigon to lay eggs in moments to protect one of Your chosen slave and also aided him with ranks of angels, Who did every impossible possible just by saying كن and it was done just like that by Your Might and Power, miracle does happen by Your Strength O Ever Living O Self Sustainable my needs and my problems are not as big as those who once lived before me with dignity and honour by Your grace, yet these problems are drowning me day by day and each passing night it submerges my strength but not even for a moment I doubt in You or Your help or Your Aid. Just uplift these trials from me and unite me with my love of this and after life, grant me best in this world and next one. This Ramadan in this holy month in these special nights by Your Strength, Your Power, Your Might, Your Rahma, Your Love, Your Invincibility change my situation and grant me what my hearts longs for, it eagerly yearns for relief O Creator of my heart and feelings fulfill my needs I depend upon You, You are free of need while I need You every second of my life I entrust my affairs on You for verily You are the best of Judge and Guarantor my Beloved accept my supplication as You are the Responder of supplication Ameen.

[phatcatphergus]

Thinking about Tubbo's response to Sunny calling him Ramon's uncle and I had a slightly different interpretation than a lot of people. Tubbo calling Ramon his bro was cute, but I don't think he's technically ever called Ramon his brother. He said homie too and in that context bro seemed more like an out, a way to say something similar without having to use the actual familial term. Tubbo will almost always acknowledge when other people refer to him as family but he rarely says it back in the same way. He doesn't have a problem with Ramon calling him hermano or brother but he can't say it back.

You’re so right for that.

Tbh I didn’t notice his response bc I had the stream in the background, but the response fits with every other time he’s danced around calling other people something like that.

I think it partly comes from the fear of rejection (maybe they’re saying it to get him to say it and then make fun of him for believing it) and also the fear of people he loves getting hurt. He’s said a bunch of times, even before sunny, how the eggs and peoples relationships were attachments that the Feds could use against them.

Tubbo never wants people to be hurt or used because of him, just like how he wants to be useful and wanted by other people. Other people can use him or see him however they like, but the second he stakes his claim on something it’s ruined, mocked or taken away. Admitting someone is close to him is opening himself up to someone and possibly being rejected or having those feelings belittled or abused like everything else he’s done. Whether it’s the Feds or islanders, someone will find a way to exploit it.

#qsmp #tubbo #qsmp tubbo #qsmp Ramon #anon asks

[navree]

see the thing is, i wasn't on board the train of "this guy is gonna be lex luthor" cuz i thought that people just saw a guy named alex and remembered that lex luthor's name is LEX luthor and were making an insane leap, but then he said all those very lex things to vicki vale and the show made a deliberate point to show his reaction to jimmy and lois's flamebird stream and how that didn't move him at all, so now i'm starting to really think this is gonna be lex

and anime pretty boy slade wilson is already my favorite part of this show but this has the potential to be a close second if it's true, because either a) lex luthor, someone with a very specific look and vibe, is going to look like this motherfucker for the entire show, or b) he's somehow going to lose that rather voluminous head of hair really rapidly and not only be a twink but be a twink who's bald as an egg, and both options are sending me into the stratosphere

#personal #my adventures with superman #i'm still not completely sold #because some of it does seem like a bit of a reach #and i thought the showrunners said they weren't going to have lex in season 1 #cuz they wanted to let other superman rogues have moments to shine #but i'm more acquiescent of it now than i was before #because again his tirade to vicki REALLY sounded like something lex would say