#meme;aeron

[astralesarchive-blog]

✉ (ur an idiot)

Send me a '✉' for a "the morning after" note left on your pillow.

Don't usually leave notes after a hookup, but last night was fun. Maybe I'll see you around, Harry Styles.

Aeron.

[astralesarchive-blog]

[ text ]: I’m tired of waiting. (yes i'm doing two don't judge me i'm greedy) --- [ text ]: Do you feel good knowing you have this power over me?

Send my muse any of the following.

[ text ]: I’m tired of waiting.

[ SMS from; aeron ] harry...[ unsent message ] don't give up on me. please.[ SMS from; aeron ] what does that mean for us then?

[ text ]: Do you feel good knowing you have this power over me?

[ SMS from; aeron ] didn't really know i had power over you, ha.[ SMS from; aeron ] but no it doesn't feel /good/ persay.[ SMS from; aeron ] i suppose i just like having any effect on you at all.

[astralesarchive-blog]

❤

Send me a ❤ and I’ll randomly generate a scene for our muses to RP

                          — my muse confesses they want yours.

There Edward goes again--strutting about the cluttered apartment with little care for what his shirtless torso is doing to Aeron. It's the best and worst thing about his lover, this acute shamelessness. Though always put together in public, he's quick to shed various pieces of clothing once inside, citing a need for comfort as the main cause. And normally, it has little effect on the shorter male, who's long since grown used to the sight of bronzed flesh so casually exposed. But at this exact moment, he can't look anywhere but at those broad shoulders, can't think about anything but the trail of hair disappearing beneath Edward's waistband. And the moment the other's stopped to look over something on the table, Aeron is up off the couch and pressed against his back in seconds, mouthing hot kisses over his shoulder blades as he huffs out a single phrase. "--Want you." 

[astralesarchive-blog]

❤ grabs popcorn ❤

Send me a ❤ and I’ll randomly generate a scene for our muses to RP

                      — my muse sneaks into your muse’s bed.

It was fascinating, really—how all of Aeron’s walls seemed to crumble with little struggle once alcohol got into his system. It was for that reason that he mostly had sex when he was drunk; when there was no semblance of control or self-awareness left to stifle his desires. So it’s almost clockwork that he’s sneaking into Harry’s apartment and making a beeline for his bedroom just as the liquor begins to take hold. Every feeling he’s ever had for the younger male—sexual or otherwise—is exploding in vivid hues across his eyesight and he knows he won’t rest, can’t rest until he’s had his hands on him in some way, shape or form. So as he crawls over the other, blessed with grace that’s surprising for a man so intoxicated, it’s impossible to keep his lips to himself, light kisses rained down upon whatever exposed flesh he can find. 

[astralesarchive-blog]

"You're the only person I like, you're -- my everything."

What does my muse mean to yours?

Thin lips fall open as if to speak; but any semblance of a response is lost beneath an exhale of stilted breath. Jesus fucking Christ. It’s in this moment that Aeron feels the full weight of Harry’s affections—my everything--and it has his heart in a tailspin, right into the pits of his stomach. A reaction to be expected, of course, when the recipient of such untarnished love thinks themselves unworthy. But as the silence between them drags on and his gaze flickers greedily over the man before him, it’s impossible for that dejection to retain its hold. Because, regardless of his half-assed denials or countless attempts to say otherwise, Aeron is beginning to feel the same. Sweaty palms and delicious jitters whenever Harry’s around and an unshakable weight of sadness when he isn’t. My everything—he might not understand yet, what it means to be so invested, so devoted. But as he steps forward to pull the younger into his arms and press a tender kiss to his temple, he realizes he’s well on his way.

[astralesarchive-blog]

[text] I want to spoil you.

[ sms from; aeron ] harry…[ sms from; aeron ] you don’t have to, i already told you i don’t really care for gifts. [ sms from; aeron ] plus it’s only our first…date or whatever. no need to go all out.

[astralesarchive-blog]

[text]: m'drunk and i wanted to tell you that i love you and that i love you so much that it hates me a little. like.. powerfully and painfully, babe, and i just want you to be miine forever and ever and ever and ever and ever. let's grow old together! ugh, god, i miss you.

Send my character a text that was meant for them but they were never supposed to receive.

The smile that claims Aeron’s lips seems to blossom of its own accord, a hand moving up to hide it as though Harry is there to see him. From the subtle curl of thin, chapped lips drips happiness the star never thought himself worthy of or, even, able to experience. And yet, here he is, warmth spreading tendrils through his chest and around his heart as the younger’s sentiment engulfs his every thought. Though he’s certain what he feels isn’t love quite yet, the way a single drunk text has him beaming is hint enough that it’s more than just a crush. And beneath his aloof exterior lurks a desire to be able to express it; to send texts like this on a whim, to press kisses to Harry’s brow whenever the urge hits (and god does it hit), to just say how he feels; no reservations, no doubts. But after so many years of self-imposed solitude, it’s hard to shed a now-natural aversion to being honest about his feelings, even with someone he’s come to care for so much. So, as he thumbs out a simple response, he can only hope that Harry realizes how genuine he means to be.

[ sms to; harry ] i miss you too.[ sms to; harry ] promise you’ll take care of yourself tonight?