#'will not touch tumblr once the movie's out until i watch it for fear of untagged spoilers'

[retro-system]

ough final trailer next week

[tu-sugar-mami]

The things that could have been (2.2/3)

You can read part 2.1 here

You can read part 1 here

You can read part 3 here

Roughly 4k, the chapter is 8k but Tumblr crashes so half and half it is

Warnings: fluff but mostly angst, no happy ending, read at own risk

_________________

You could have sworn everything was perfect, and after bugging your beloved with many questions about how would be the best way to –hypothetically– woo someone (using a book as a cover for the info search), you felt ready to take the next step and finally let your heart out.

Everything was ready to put your plan in motion. All was as it needed to be, one more step and the dream life by her side would come true… right? If only you had known that not all stories were as pink looking as they appeared…

Between giggles and cookies, a song on the phonograph caught your attention. It was soft and had a slow tune. You took the idea of one of the many movies (Before Donna, you had never even known what electricity was, let alone a movie, and learned to be thankful of the whole new world Donna had so kindly shown you) you watched with Donna, and in a bold move you stood up only to offer her your hand with a light bow.

A dance, you offered, and a dance she agreed to.

She was breathtaking. Beautiful indeed. The warm light from the lamps made her look inviting, and her lips looked so soft. Licking your own, you wondered if it would be a mistake to claim hers and finally savor their sweetness. If you did, would she kiss you back with the same need? Your heart desired to have her lips dancing desperately with yours until you both were left out of breath.

“Have you ever been in love, my Lady?” 

The words left your mouth before you could even think about stopping them, but once they were out, you waited with anxious expectance for the Lady’s response.

But that simple, innocent query arose many feelings within Donna.

'Why, yes. I'm reminded of that every time i look at you.' Is what she wanted to say.

“Why do you ask, dolcezza?” Is what she said instead.

Her heartbeat picked up when she noticed your eyes fixed on her lips with such intensity that she couldn't help but blush. If she had been a bit braver, she would have closed the gap in a heartbeat, but then again, what if she was mistaken? She didn't want to risk giving a step forward and ruining your friendship.

“I’m just wondering.” You both kept swaying along with the music, her hands touching each other behind your neck and your arms circling her waist, holding her close, in such way that in the moment the two of you were the only ones existing in the world. “Say, if you were to declare your love to someone, how would you do it?” 

A huff came from Donna, before she stepped back enough to twirl you and then hold you by the waist, now being her the one to take the lead. 

As every second passed, doubt and insecurity began to find their way into you, and despite your need to declare your love, the sudden fear to mess things up kept you grounded.

“I’m sure you know that is not possible for me, darling. If it were I would have done it a long time ago.” Donna said.

If she noticed the way your expression saddened, she didn’t comment on it.

The night kept its course, and the two of you danced the night away, sharing secrets and stories that only you and the walls could be the only witnesses of.

The next day -quite windy-, you spent the day in, and Donna took you to the workshop with her. She had just finished her most recent project, a beautiful tanned doll with white curly hair and cream colored freckles splattered along her whole body, but the new girl needed clothes, and as you found yourself reading one of Donna’s favorite novels, the Lady was busy finishing the new doll’s dress with Angie’s help. 

Between playful banter and quips going back and forth, you decided to try again your failed attempt at confessing.

“Donna, i–” Your hands grip on the book was so hard that they began shaking. The courage you spend all the night gathering finally took effect, and you decided it was now or never. You thanked any deity that was listening that Donna was facing away from you, presumably engrossed in sewing the dress embroidery. Swallowing the lump on your throat, you forced yourself to keep talking. "I am in love with someone.” You took a deep breath and noticed that Donna had stopped her stitching, presumably to give you her full attention. You took a moment to calm yourself before continuing. “When I think of her my stomach feels fuzzy and my heart starts beating faster, and I don’t know if she loves me back but I really need her to know. I’d really like to move in with her if she allows me to–”

Donna Beneviento, a woman who could be considered a master in the art of sewing, had never missed a stitch since she perfected the craft, until that moment where the last words she expected to hear from you came to be.

The needle punctured into another section entirely, it was quite the misstep but certainly something that could be fixed, alas, Donna’s train of thought was far, far away from the embroidery in her hands, instead fighting with the bucket of cold water that was your confession. In her mind, your strange behavior from the last days was finally making sense. Of course you’d ask her what how to woo someone, probably intending it for your beloved. She should have known…

“Oh…”

The air felt thick in your lungs as you waited for more words to come. Your hand found its way to your pocket where a small present was hidden. You took all the advice from Donna and made her a small token of your affection to finally try and ask her to let you be her life companion. 

“I…was not expecting that, to be honest.”

Donna tuned towards you, and your eyes widened at the serious expression, and the way her voice was devoid of all the prior playfulness stung. The churning in your stomach became almost unbearable with the heavy way Donna’s dark eye was on you. The anxiety kicked in and you knew it had been a mistake.

The Lady’s eye refused to meet yours, focusing instead on a slowly retreating Angie.

“Perhaps I misread everything.” Her voice was so low that if the room wasn’t as silent as it was, you would have missed it.

“I mean– if you want me to–” You cursed yourself for stammering in such an important moment, but your Lady didn’t even blink. The knot in your throat prevented you from taking back your words.

“Don’t bother.” In a second, the embroidery was all but forgotten on the table as the Lady collected herself and strode away with hurried steps. “If you don’t mind, I’ll head to bed now.” Donna said, which would be completely understandable had it not been for the fact that it was barely 4 in the afternoon.

Needless to say, you tried to stifle your sobs when Donna, in fact, never made it to your shared bed that night.

Or the next.

Thanks to Angie you knew that the Lady had been cooped up in her workshop, but every time you tried to bypass the hall, a few dolls would gently herd you back to the hall’s entrance and wouldn’t let you see your Donna. You wanted to apologize, to offer to pretend you hadn’t say anything and beg for her to forget of the whole issue, but how could you fix anything when the Lady wouldn’t even let you near her?

The sheets were cold, and by the third night you felt it foreign to spend the night in her bed, despite how much you needed to feel her comfort even if it was just her scent lingering in her nightgown. After that, you took shelter in what was once your room, right across the hall.

Unbeknownst to you, Donna was in a similar position. Though your Blinky the blankey was less comfort and more pain to her as she surrounded herself with it at her workshop, your own perfume –a present from her– embedded in the fabric, with the delicate embroidery slowly getting crumpled and ruined by the white–knuckled grip of a heartbroken woman.

The tension became palpable the next days. Not a single laugh had come from you in a while, not even a smile. Donna eventually came out from her secluded space, but to your disappointment, it was not without her face covered again, and Angie noticed how you couldn't even look at her for more than mere seconds before having to turn away.

It was so strange to see Donna wearing her veil again, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't sting.

While Donna's heart felt like a million needles buried themselves on it at night, whenever she saw you felt as if she couldn't breathe. She had to fight to keep her tears at bay.

Until…

Yet another morning, yet another night spent crying. Since it was impossible for you to conceal the sleep you decided to use the time to do something productive, or at least something that would keep you busy enough to not think, and if you were good at something, it was working with your hands. If Donna could coop up in her workshop, so could you.

It was around five in the morning when you decided you had enough, and your hesitant steps took you to the kitchen. It was still dark but you waltzed through the halls of the manor easily despite your lack of vision just like you had done on many occasions before to try and surprise Donna by preparing her favorite meal, although this time you were unsure if it was appropriate after last night’s event. The scene of your failed confession repeated itself on loop in your mind, and as you climbed down the stairs you recalled the cold tone in the voice of your beloved as she so dismissively rejected your feelings, not to mention the way she had been avoiding you like the plague.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you almost missed the leather pouch that sat on the kitchen’s countertop. The same pouch you always received after a job well done. Judging by the size though, and if your calculations were correct, the payment in the bag was several times bigger what you were usually given. 

While certainly you weren’t expecting a payment so soon (or at all actually, as you had since decided that a payment wouldn’t be necessary as long as you could be close to Donna) what was even more confusing was a folded paper waiting next to the pouch, with your name written on it with Donna’s scribbly handwriting. 

Not knowing what to expect, you opened the letter, but the contents in it had made you wish you’d never opened it.

“Your services will not be needed anymore. Here is the payment for the last pieces and enough to cover the expenses of your unwilling stay at House Beneviento. I expect you to be on your way by tomorrow noon. Thank you for your work.”

Needless to say, the pouch wasn't even acknowledged.  Your feet carried you to Donna’s bedroom and you began frantically knocking on the door.

“Donna! Please let me in, we can pretend this never happened, but please don’t shut me off like this!” Tears were already blurring your vision.

Donna, laying on her side of the bed, knew she was being unfair, cruel even, but she was hurting so much. Even something as simple as looking at you reminded her of how foolish she had been for daring to hope. Having you near her was torture. Knowing you were in love with someone else left her completely destroyed. She needed to send you away or her heart wouldn’t stand it.

Your cries and begging didn’t stop, and while Donna did her best to ignore you, she could do that for only so long. She stood up, and marched towards the door, almost ripping it from its hinges with unmeasured strength.

“Would you stop with that.” Her voice was low, and she did her best for it to stay that way, even if the sight of a defeated carpenter greeted her from across the doorframe.

You looked so small and defeated. Despite the lack of light, she could make out the bags under your eyes and how tired you seemed to be. Donna had to turn around to avoid caving in and hold you until you felt better.

“Donna, why are you sending me away?” Your voice was fearful and broken, barely keeping your sobs at bay. 

"It's Lady Beneviento for you." Donna’s voice was harsh, and the coldness of it stung even more when she didn’t even turn to reply.

It was shocking, but you pushed through. Another opportunity wouldn’t show up again.

“I need an explanation!”

“I don't owe explanations to a villager like you.”

And It felt like a slap to the face. Donna, the person that showed you that if you cared enough, the rest didn’t matter, had just left it clear that you were not equal at all, contrary to what you had believed. 

She was lying, it had to be…

That was a backstabbing betrayal, and your mind struggled to recognize the person in front of you as your beloved Lady.

But it must have been a mistake, right? So you kept pushing.

You took a decisive step towards her, trying to get ahold of her hand, only for her to turn and slap it before you could get to close. It was hard enough to sting.

For a moment, you saw the room closing in around you, the ground began shaking and the roaring of the waterfall became thunderous. The vision went black at moments and a heavy pressure overcame you. The Lady was nowhere to be seen, but deformed creatures from the corner of your eye were slowly approaching with wicked smiles. Whispers became screams and the air left your lungs. You fell on your knees and closed your eyes until you saw dots of color behind your eyelids.

And then, in a second, everything returned to normal.

In front of you stood the Lady, her veil still covering her face and thus making you unable to read her expression but in your mind, a cruel smirk graced her lips.

“If I see even the shadow of you roaming around I will not be held responsible for what I do to you, am I understood?”

Your head was pulsating, and your glazy eyes couldn’t stay on her for long before they went astray.

This was it. 

Lady Beneviento had done a small display of her power but that was more than enough.

Just like that, every single one of your fears had come true, and you forced yourself to not cry. No matter what it took you wouldn’t break in front of her.

Just like that too, the woman so sweet and caring you loved, became the monster everyone in the village said she was.

“I– of…course, Lady Beneviento…”

Not even an hour after, you found yourself packing the nearest belongings in the guest room, and trying to hold back the sobs you ran and ran away from the estate until your legs felt they couldn't go another step without collapsing. Not even Angie frantically chasing after you and incessantly apologizing in behalf of Donna could stop you.

Angie knew, when she saw your figure quickly disappearing the furthest you went, that all of it was a big mistake, but that no matter how she wished, that was not something she could fix.

Later in the hall, Angie tried to get answers from Donna, only to be roughly dismissed after the first question.

That afternoon was spent by two women with broken hearts crying their sorrows out until they fell asleep…

No matter what anyone believed, Donna Beneviento was not a morning person. Of course she always made a point to wake up before the sunrise to start with her tasks and some house chores, but that didn't mean she particularly enjoyed it. She always struggled to start her day in the morning, but after so many years of doing it her body got accustomed to work on autopilot. She found herself, still sluggish from the uncomfortable night sleep but already in the kitchen making your favorite breakfast while thinking on what to do later, maybe she could finally get some work done on that jacket she planned to gift you for your upcoming birthday…

The knife she was holding fell out of her grasp and clacked against the countertop as her eyes landed on the untouched coin pouch at the countertop and the memories of the day before finally registered in her mind. All those hurtful words she had said to you, the way she threatened you not only with words but with her power, by Mother Miranda, how could she? 

The clock marked 8am, plenty of time before her deadline kicked in, or more like kicked you out. Donna ran upstairs towards the guest bedroom, and by the way it looked, nothing had been moved. Although there was no trace of you. The bed was made and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Donna thought that maybe, for some saving grace, you were in what once was your shared bedroom, but even there your side of the bed was intact. Even after the fallout Donna couldn’t bring herself to invade your rightful place in her bed.

No matter, not even with her dolls eyes searching the whole Beneviento land could they find a trace of your person, finding instead a familiar book in the yard, just before reaching the elevator. 

The book was picked up by the Lady, and she recognized it as the journal you always carried with you, that not even she had been able to peak in its contents, until now. She was positive it must had fallen from your pocket, and she felt hesitant to read it, but the lack of you moved her to invade your privacy and switch through the pages.

Measurements, notes, sketches, designs for furniture details, one or another recipe, but above all the thing that flooded the pages were personal entries the first day of your permanent stay at the Beneviento estate

Many entries in that diary made her open her eyes, but at the same time crushed her heart and filled her with regret.

Notes about how your day was brighter because ‘Lady Beneviento offered me homemade cookies today. She's always so caring and kind.’

Or…

‘Today she held my hand as she bandaged the knife cut, her hands were trembling and I feared I made her uncomfortable.’

Some of the notes made her heart twist, how did she miss this?

‘Lady Beneviento is so pretty. I can't help but to stare at her portrait and long for a smile of those full lips. I wish one day she can see me the way i see her.’

‘Donna, Donna, such a beautiful name for a gorgeous woman. Donna, sounds like birds chirping on a tranquil morning. All i can think about is you, Donna.’

But then… Donna's heart clenched upon reading an entry a day prior to the date of that horrible afternoon when you uttered those dreadful words.

‘I’m proud of myself for once. A great job I did indeed. I managed to make Donna tell me some of her favorite things so I could add them to the bracelet. Hopefully soon I’ll find the right time to ask her to be mine. I love her and I can’t hide that truth from her anymore… I think she’ll love it!’

And in that same page, a beautifully handmade bracelet was acting as a bookmark, but it had pieces missing. The wire had been twisted in a brutal way, almost as if someone had tried to tear it apart, and the glass charms were chipped, with some places letting Donna know that there were ripped pieces. The bracelet was beautiful indeed, not even it being mangled could take that away. 

Donnas heart twisted almost as badly as the wires when she read the next two and last entries that were longer than the previous ones, and had many scratched sentences. Some parts were even barely legible and on some spots the shaky ink was marred.

‘I made her upset. I stupidly told her about my feelings for her but she's not happy about them. I have never felt more ashamed in my life. How did i fool myself? How did i even believe for a second that i was different? That i had a chance at winning her heart? I take it back my Lady, please forgive me. Don’t deny me your presence for long, I need you.

Please…’

And the last entry…

‘Lady Beneviento left me a notice and urged me to leave her property by tomorrow noon. I tried to confront her about it and… I guess I disgusted her enough to kick me out. I’m so stupid, I knew it was a mistake. I’m leaving now. I don't think I'll be able to face her. It's best that i leave all this behind as soon as possible…’

Donna held the journal close to her chest with mixed emotions. The realization that your mysterious beloved was her! It was herself! You loved her as much as she loved you!

How could she be so blind?

No, how could You be so blind?

It was all a misunderstanding! Why did everything have to go downhill? She was doing well.

If your words were true –and they were, Donna hoped– it was just a matter of time before you returned… right? How long was it since you moved in, around two years? All of your belongings were still in the manor; the handmade clothes Donna made for you, your tools, your books, your favorite tea set. Everything, if not in your room then in your workshop. You had to return for them, and that's where Donna would talk things through with you. She'd confess to you how you always made her feel safe, how you made her days feel like a gentle breeze in a flower field on her face. She'd tell you how she grew to love your particular way to brew her coffee and how well she rested when she slept in your arms at night.

Of course you had to return, if not for your things at least you needed to talk to Donna, right?

So she waited.

And waited…

You did not return.

Three days after, and Donna realized that you would not come back, at least not anytime soon. 

Reading the rest of the journal did nothing to quench the guilt. Full pages of your daydreams were only fueling the fire of sorrow in her.

‘Please love, all I want to do is look at your beauty forever. I yearn for the day I can taste your lips and call myself yours.’

She had to go find you before she lost you for good. It took her a lot of effort but after weighing her options she decided you were more important than her discomfort.

Desperate, Donna did something she wouldn't ever do if she didn't have to.

The trek to the village was bumpy, and the Lady couldn’t recall when was the last time she set foot on the village limits. If not for Karl –who received a call from a desperate Donna whilst in the middle of trying to convince a blonde man to reign with him– that lead the way, she wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for.

But such was Donna’s surprise when Heisenberg forced open the door to your old cabin, only to find it empty. Not even a sign of anyone living there, at least for some good time, almost as if it was abandoned altogether. But Donna didn’t lost hope, as there was still one place left to check.

Angie is with her, the carpentry shop is open, and a young man is sharpening some tools when he's startled by her sudden entrance.

“Hey, you!” Angie's sudden interruption makes the man drop the heavy-looking tool, effectively landing on his toe and making him cry a pained hiss. “Where is she?” Of course they didn’t have to specify, you were known in the whole village for being Lady Beneviento’s carpenter.

“My Lords!” The boy quickly bowed to the pair (and Angie) to pay his respects. “I- well um, yeah she was here a few days ago but only picked up her old tools and left. I swear ma'am she wouldn't stop crying and babbling about breaking her promise or something… but I don’t know where she went.”

After the visit to the workshop, Karl took it upon himself to find answers.

No one in the village though could tell them where you had gone to, not even when Karl threatened people mercilessly for answers, as he hated to see his little sister hurting so much.

The journal was held snuggly against Donnas chest, but not even hugging it with all her might made it her feel comforted.

The sun was finally setting, and the darkness began to engulf the village in shadows. 

And just as the warmth of the sun dissipated and the chill air of the night overcame the village, Donna’s heart also felt cold.

[thelanor-s-astame]

FILM RECOMMENDATIONS FOR PEOPLE LOVING GONCHAROV

I love how many people are really getting into the theming of Goncharov and the depth it displays, but also the interesting characterization and symbolism. But I could see how watching 'just' Goncharov might leave you wanting more. So here is my personal film recommendations for people who want something similar! -The Godfather Part 2: This is the closest to Goncharov I think a film has ever gotten. Essentially it's the story of two people, Vito Corleone and his son Micheal as they both run the Corleone family in different eras and with different world views. Vito coming into America as a marginalized class, and trying to make a safer world for his people in America, and Micheal, who, having grown up in wealth, and seeing himself as an American, is consumed by capitalism and destroys everything his father built. This one is the reason The Godfather movies are seen as cinema pinicales. It's just really good. Stalker: This one is probably the most off base, seeing as it's a sci-fi movie made in the USSR, but one of the things I've noticed people really latching on to with Goncherov is it's theming around humanity, weather we are beings cursed by god, and weather we deserve to be happy with the cruelty we do. Stalker is a much different movie but it touches on all those themes, including 'finding your home in a place that isn't home' A lot slower but just as much of a tragedy. -Goodfellas: After Goncherov, Scorsese stayed out of mob movies for decades until the 90s. A muuuch different movie tonally than Goncharov. If you get bored with slower 70s movies, give this one a shot. It still nails the inherent danger, fear, and corruption the mafia life leads to, but at a breakneck pace! Like if you watched the first hour of Goncharov and were like "I wish something would, like, happen?" The movie you wanna watch is Goodfellas. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy: A lot newer and admittedly not as sexy, but you can see Goncherov all over this movie. Not just because it's about finding a Russian spy, but in the tension and pace. Legitimatly the best spy movie in the last 20 years. Layer Cake: This one *is* as sexy Goncherov. It's basically a British Scorsesse movie, and I know that sounds awful, but it's a lot of fun. It's quick moving, has the same "once you're in the life you can't leave the life, that's just how it is" messaging, and has honest to god maybe the funniest ending I've ever seen in a movie. If you're looking for a movie that is 'fun'. This one is the most fun of the bunch!

Only God Forgives: This movie is just "What if Goncharov was a pathetic mommy's boy?" I know a lot of film buffs are gonna be upset at me, but if you're looking for a movie where Goncharov is as much of a pathetic meow-meow as tumblr makes him out to be, this is the one for you!

[mythiccheroacademia]

A/N: Thank you hottie❤️ Tumblr was fucking with the format, so I had to repost.  Anyways, I looovveee this request. I’ve been waiting to be in the right mood to write this. Like, jealous muscular himbos completely head over heels for their s/o? Sign me up.

Sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoy this, sugar plum

All characters are 18+

Warnings: smut below the line!

Katsuki Bakugo:

SFW

bakugo doesnt get jealous

he usually felt secure in your relationship

yeah he got annoyed when kaminari would jokingly flirt with you

and yes, it made him angry when the dekusquad would literally stare at you with puppy dog eyes

and it pissed him off when kirishima suddenly became the funniest guy in the room when you were around

but he wasn’t jealous

how could he be? he’s bakugo katsuki

you agreed to go out with him. the strongest. the best. you couldn't get any better than him

right?

lmao no

the bigger the ego, the more fragile it was

bakugo doesnt handle jealousy well

there’s a small part of him that knows he can be an asshole

he’s not the most...affectionate person

but damn it, if he doesnt try his hardest for you

you notice that he gets quieter but his actions become a lot more aggressive

he’s glaring at anyone that smiles at you

it’s honestly scarier than his threats

forces you to hold hands

is suddenly into PDA??? when he kissed you in front of your friends you literally made a face

you didn't know what was up with him, but you were really confused when you told him to chill and he visibility wilted

once he came around to telling you that he wouldn't hold it against you if you wanted to leave him, you were quick to reassure him

give him a couple kisses and rub his ego just a tad, and he’ll be back to normal

acts like he didn't just look like he was about to cry two seconds ago

NSFW

there are two things that happen when bakugo gets jealous

at first, he’s very rough and handsy

he likes to talk big and say things like

“imma fuck you up when we get home”

“you like when daddy does that, sweetheart?”

“kiss it right there, baby”

“youre mine. tell me your mine”

he’s doing everything he can to get you screaming and thrashing

he’ll go down on you for hours, leave you trembling, only to tell you that was a warm-up

there’s this dark look in his eyes when he’s pounding into you, gripping the headboard so he can angle himself in the best position possible

it’s like he’s trying to prove himself by wrecking you

in the midst of your fucking, just when you feel like youre about to pass out, bakugo’s head falls on your shoulder

he’s still thrusting into you, but it gets slower and deeper

needier

now it’s not just fucking

looks into your eyes with the most adoring gaze and kisses the breath of out you

he can’t speak, too deep into your lovemaking to express how much he loves you

how he’s so scared of losing you

but you don’t need his words to understand

lock your legs around his hips and tell him how you’ll always be his and he will let out a moan that makes your toes curl

when you reach your high, it’s a vulnerable moment

lots of soft kisses and hugging

wont admit to the tears that sting his eyes but is willing to express his adornment for you through his embrace and aftercare

Todoroki Shouto:

SFW

todoroki doesnt have a lot of experience with jealousy

he knows what anger is

he’s felt insecurity

and he knows what it feels like to long for something or someone

but envy was a foreign concept to him

that was until he got into his first romantic relationship with you

don't get him wrong, he trusted you with everything

you gave him no reason to question your loyalty

and it never occurred to him that you would leave him for someone else because of how strong your love was for one another

however, his insecurities always got the best of him

he had a lot of baggage

he knew that

and when someone would approach you, someone that looked free-spirited and independent, he’d wonder if he was holding you back

even then, he can’t help but think that no one is worth the ground you walked on

not even himself sometimes

he never brings it up

but you notice that he started touching his scar a lot more

todoroki would try to act more extroverted thinking it would be better if he was livelier

youre deep talks about family matter diminished little by little

he tried to fill your comfortable silence with awkward conversation

you were so confused why your bf was acting so different

it took a couple attempts to get him to spill his thoughts

once he did, he’s stark quiet, looking away, fearing that you’d be so disappointed in him

but you just take his face in your hands and tell him

“you’re my whole world shouto. why would i ever give that up?”

he holds you in his arms for a long time after that

NSFW

behind his jealousy of onlooking eyes is a deep steed of low self-esteem

and you can feel it when you get intimate

he’s always looking to please you, but now he’s desperate, trying so hard to think of what will make you feel good

it makes you sad bc he already knows the answer to those questions

but he overthinks it

he’s noticeably shier

his touches are hesitant as he second-guesses himself

is continuously asking if you’re okay or if he’s doing it right

at one point, you have to take charge and push him down on the bed

“let me show you how much i want you. just you”

licks his lips as you kiss down his body

one of those guys that believes sucking his dick is a chore 💀

“you don't have to do that” face ass

so when you suck the soul out of him, he’s SPRUNG

would write a song about it if he could LMAO

quickly says he loves you before kissing you like the world depends on it as you ride him

twirl your hips in the way he likes and he’ll hiss out curses

run your hands through his hair and kiss his scar and he’ll give you such pretty moans

please tell him how beautiful he is and how much you love him

my mans will nut on the spot

after the first round, he regains his confidence and flips you on your hands and knees

before you even know what’s going on, he’s pounding into you, gripping your hips like a lifeline

now that he’s reminded that he’s your man, he spends the night realigning your spine

bc who could do it better?

Togata Mirio:

SFW

mirio is one of the most confident people ever

not only is he secure in himself, but he’s secure in your relationship

he knows he bagged a baddie

ofc people would be all over you

he couldn't blame them! i mean, look at you!

when people approached you, he usually let you handle it

if they were persistent, he would just put an arm around your waist

“you’ve got good taste, but they’re taken! sorry!”

it’s so wholesome that the other person can’t even find it within themselves to be upset

there was only one time he recalled getting genuinely jealous

it was during the time you two weren't exclusively dating

just going on dates to see how things went

at the same time, he overheard from your friend that your ex was trying to get back with you

when he heard that, he started sweating

it wasn't jealousy, but more like fear

he was determined not to lose you

not when things were going so well

mirio literally goes above and beyond on your dates

mans deadass learns how to cook all your favorite foods to bring to you

youre crying bc the seasoning was just *chef’s kiss*

brings you flowers at random times of the day

sends you pictures of things that remind him of you

you’re just soaking up all the attention

he’s always been an extra person so you didn't think much of it

it wasn't until you two were cuddling and watching a movie in his apartment that he confesses to you

“i know that i’m competing against history between you and your ex, but i want you to know that my feelings for you are strong, y/n. and i’ll do everything to prove to you that i can be the man of your dreams”

you stare at him before bringing him in for a kiss

“there’s a reason my ex is my ex”

“but--”

“just ask me to be yours already, mirio”

he didnt have to be told twice

NSFW

it was actually that same night that cuddling turned into something a little nastier

honestly, from then on, if you cuddled for more than 20min, there was a 99% chance yall end up fucking lmao

but that night, when he was kissing your neck and grinding his dick against you, he noticed your phone light up on the nightstand

you were too caught up in his fingers between your legs but he saw the text from your ex

it read: “i know this might be out of the blue, but would you wanna catch up over dinner sometime?”

now, mirio wasn't one to be spiteful

but he couldn't help but get a little heated

knowing your ex was trying to get back with you was way different than seeing it

a tiny switch goes off in his head and now he’s ready to make it known that you and him are together

you’re in heaven as mirio’s lips suck and nip at your neck and body

his head game is immaculate

turns you on your stomach so he can massage your back and ass before sliding into you

mirio holds your neck and gives you sloppy kisses as his hips swim into you

your phone lights up again and you can barely think straight when he gets rougher

starts pounding into you like he’s tryna put a baby in you whether it’s possible or not 💀

youre grabbing for anything you can hold as he starts whispering sweet nothings about how he’s gonna take care of you

whew...what a man yall 🥴

the entire time he’s wearing a shit-eating grin

bc he knows he won

might have accidentally sent your ex a voice recording of you moaning his name

oops

[plush-rabbit]

Request: Leon bday asker. Goodness, it’s been so long I’ve nearly forgotten what I asked! I think it was like, Leon x reader home spa day that Leon set up for reader’s birthday type thing..? I think I left it up to you whether to go nsfw or sfw or both. If that’s not it, just go with this, I guess! Sorry again for the trouble, tumblr sucks lol.

Things came up so sorry for the headcanons!!

A/N: I’m so sorry for it being so late!! I swear I thought I had a handle on this but I did not!! Anyways happy belated birthday!! <(＿　＿)>

It’s hard enough to get someone like Leon to take a day for himself. He still has many responsibilities to do and he hardly ever takes time for himself. The most that he’ll ever do is when it revolves around his hair. He hates the itchiness when he doesn’t take care of his beard- the scruffiness that pricks his skin and makes it feel as if has sandpaper scratching against him. He’ll take proper care of his hair to avoid any unnecessary knots. He takes care of himself well enough but you’ve always been the one to fret more about your appearance so when he notices that you’ve begun to lack in your care routine and that it’s your birthday soon, he takes advantage of it to have an in-home spa for you.

He makes sure to do his research before he starts to shop for the items for a good week in advance. He’ll research online, try to ask not-so-obvious questions about whether you’ve been feeling stressed or if you’ve been having trouble sleeping before he actually starts to shop. He’ll go around to each store, buy oils and candles and pick out a new robe for you to wear. He’s lost at what exactly to get and will resist the urge to buy a scent that promises relaxation but is scented in your least favorite scent. Once he returns home, he’ll fix the place up and set out everything that needs to be done until it looks nice.

Introducing you to the idea is a bit nerve wracking for him. It’s a big gesture that could be taken the wrong way but he tries to make sure it isn’t communicated like that. He’s messing with his hands in sorts of ways- has a strand of his hair twirled around a finger, his hands moving erratically or scratching the back of his necklaces he feels heat start to burn his skin. It’s intimate in a different way that he isn’t able to express. This isn’t something he’s trying to do to flirt but to show you that he cares about you and your wellbeing. A bit awkward in his wording, he’ll give you a nervous grin and make a weak joke about the whole thing. Once he gives you the chance to change into something more comfortable, he’ll hide his face in his hands and have them drag against his skin.

He’ll see you lie on your stomach, a white, fluffy towel covering your lower back side and he’s suddenly so tense. He was nervous before but now he can feel his muscles pull tight against each other, in a way that doesn’t allow for his fingers to flex so easily. He’s watched plenty of videos of massages- even quick videos about what not to do- but now he has to actually put in the work. His brows will furrow and he’ll wish that he took an actual class or something but even the thought of that makes him a bit uncomfortable. He’s more than happy to do something for you but he likes being good at something and everything and he fears that he won’t be good enough for you and it’ll be a marker for his skill and he doesn’t want to deal with that.

It’s a tense beginning where he isn’t sure what he has to do. Any past research is suddenly out the window and he’ll clumsy grab at a scented oil. His hands shine with a thin layer of oil and curve over your shoulder blades. His fingers are rough from years of activity as they drag down your skin. It’s a start. It’s tense and slow, and he hardly speaks even when you try to make small talk. He’s seen your bare back plenty of times- enough to know where your blemishes lay and where your blades start, where faint scars reside and any other beauty marks that have decided to form against you but seeing you in a different light makes him stutter in his steps. His hands are clumsy, slowly finding their rhythm until he’s pressing into your muscles and tissues and eliciting deep sounds from you.

The massage may leak with a bit of excess oil- something strong and fruit in the air as the oil slides down your back and drips from your side in thin strands. He starts to talk to you more, asking if everything feels good, if you think you feel any tension in certain spots and even telling a joke here and there that he can feel knots and whatnot in your lower back. His hands may wander, grip at your midthigh and slowly creep up until his fingertips graze against your inner thigh in a teasing manner. Everything is in good fun and he’ll joke around, placing mint on you and blowing cool to see you twitch and coo his name in a warning-slash-playful tone. Soon the massage is in good fun, teetering at certain spaces with his lips pressed against your neck, his smile wide as grips your sides.

Everything and anything that could be considered coming from a spa will be included in this homemade spa. The bath will be drawn as you wrap yourself in a towel, the water still with a few rose petals drifting in the small space. He’ll have you get in before he does, bringing you close to him, your back against his chest and his arms around you. It’s still, a quiet moment shared between the two of you. His hands will curl against the top of your head, soap suds that gleam wonder the white light will slide down to the back of your neck and soon the tender moment will turn more playful as you turn to face him, water splashing against the both of you.

As it is your day, he’ll insist that he’ll be the one to dry you. It’s a spa recreation with a lover, he can take a few liberties in what spas actually do. He’ll grab the new towel that he bought you, wrap you around it and pull you close, letting you dry your own hair because while he may be gentle, he has a habit of becoming playful much too soon and wanting to play with you in an eager sort of way. He’ll lay you down and pick out a soft smelling cream and smooth it out on your body. His gaze is focused and his touch isn’t as playful even as it nears close to your sex. He is focused on you and wanting to make you feel good, his hand course and soft all at once, a fluttering touch where he’s quick to roam his hands in a way that is sincere. He’ll smile up at you, his brows knitted and rise up, allowing you to change into a new set of pajamas as he goes to pull the covers and get ready for bed.

The end of the day is as selfish for him as it is for you. He’ll order things that you like and get to lie in bed with you, the bed tray catching any loose food. You’ll be near him, cuddled and clean, the scent of your cream reaching his nose as you take sips of his drink when you think he isn’t looking. He’ll smile when you kiss his bicep, his throat getting tight and cheeks heating up when you tell him how you loved this at-home-spa. Pride will fill him, making him puff out his chest and have this crooked smile on him. He’ll shrug and murmur a happy birthday to you but you call tell by the bounce in his leg that he’s glad that you enjoyed your spa day with him.

Leon realizes that it would have been easier to get you something like a gift certificate to a spa or actually pay for your spa but he didn’t want to give you something like that. It’s selfish of him but he didn’t want you to be the only one making memories, he wanted to be included as well. It may be your birthday, but he wants you to remember the good times that you had together. While you both rest on the bed watching some old movie, he’ll have his hands hold yours, his forefinger and thumb massaging the webbed part of your hand. Long after you’ve fallen asleep, he’ll stay up watching the credits roll and you press yourself against his chest. If his phone is near him, he’ll grab it and take a picture, the flash accidently going off before he fumbles to turn it off and take another one, going off to edit it and add cute stickers before he sends it to you.

[nomsugayoongi]

Off My Face.

Pairing: Jungkook X OC female (nameless)

Tags: fluff, slight angst, eventual smutty smut, softJK.

Disclaimer: So, I literally created a Tumblr to post this mess. There are already a bunch more parts written which I can post if wanted. Haven't written anything in ages so be nice and forgive my overwhelming JK softness. :p

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Who's that?" She asked, leaning against the wall next to Namjoon. He raised an eyebrow as he scanned the room, clearly confused. "Who?" He replied. "The purple haired dude that just walked in. Over there by the door. Black jacket." She muttered, squinting through the darkness. Namjoon chuckled and looked at her like she was crazy. "What do you mean? It's Jungkook." He said.

She gasped and squinted even harder. "Eh??" She squeaked. "That's not Jungkook. Look at the hair. It's...long, and there's way more tattoos there than Jungkook has and..." Her rebuttal died mid sentence as Mystery Purple Hair moved out of the shadows of the doorway and she saw him clearly. It was indeed Jungkook but he looked...different. She'd only been gone a couple of months but apparently that was all it took for Jungkook to transform himself. He looked...older. He appeared to have shed his "puppy" look and what was stood across the room from her was nothing but man. Hot man. Jungkook scanned the room, stopping to talk briefly to Jin before he caught sight of her. His face broke into its token bunny smile and he said something to Jin who nodded before he made his way across the room. "You're back!" He grinned. She gulped quickly, paying absolutely no attention to the nose dive her stomach was currently doing into her shoes as he approached her. "I'm back" she confirmed, returning his smile. He strode straight over, scooping her up into a bear hug. "How was England? Did you miss us? Are you happy to be back?" Jungkook asked, setting her back on the floor and pulling back. She nodded. "Massively. England was...England. Cold, wet, grey, joyless. But nevermind that, what happened to you? Someone leave you alone with a Sharpie?" She teased, pulling his right arm out by then wrist and turning it over to indicate his new ink. He chuckled. "I like them" he shrugged. She glanced up, catching his big brown eyes then gasped again. A silver bar now pierced his eyebrow. "And you've poked holes in your face. Was nobody watching the maknae while I was away?" She teased. Jungkook rolled his eyes and grinned. "Welcome home" he said, pulling her into another hug. She spent the evening catching up with her boys. Laughing riotously, eating great food, regluing herself to Suga's side and wondering why she ever felt the need to go back to England. If anything, the trip back to her country of origin had done nothing more than cement the fact that there was nothing there for her anymore. Her life was here. Her family was here. Her family was the people all gathered in this house. She felt utterly content and beyond happy to be back. However, there was a niggling little something that was putting a crimp on her perfect homecoming. She could not, for the life of her, pry her mind off Jungkook. And as the evening drew to a close and one by one, the guys started retreating to their rooms, the noise died down and her thoughts got louder. What had happened to him? What had happened to her that she couldn't focus on anything but him. He was just Jungkook. She'd known him years. He was one of her family. He meant the same to her as the others. But her mind was screaming and his name was the only thing it was saying. It was approaching 3am. Suga had passed out hours ago and was fast asleep sprawled along one side.of the corner sofa next to her. The room was in total darkness except for the flicker of light from the TV screen. Namjoon was half asleep on her other side. Hobi, Jin, and Jimin had gone to bed already. V was sat at a table opposite tucking into some Ramen with Jungkook. Both engrossed in their conversation and their noodles, she allowed herself to study him in the flickering light. His hair was considerably longer than when she last saw him and now coloured a deep purple, Contrasting strongly against his flawless skin and framing his face perfectly, then resting just above his shoulders. Her urge to run her fingers though it was making her hands restless and she fidgeted uncomfortably on the sofa. She swallowed hard, her eyes skipping over his features. Pretty brown eyes, newly pierced eyebrow which really suited him, cute nose, sensual, slightly pouty lips that broke into the most disarming smile, strong jawline, slender neck. She tried to swallow past her increasingly dry mouth as she became painfully aware of her heartbeat, thudding more and more erratically the longer she looked at him. She reprimanded herself silently, arguing in

her mind that this was ridiculous. He was Jungkook. It didn't matter that her stomach rolled uncomfortably every time he looked at her. It didn't matter that she wanted to trace every line of the dark ink that snaked his arm with her fingertips. It didn't matter that all she could think about was running her nose slowly along his jawline, inhaling the scent of his skin as she clenched his soft, long hair in her fingers. It didn't matter that there was nothing she wanted more than to disappear in him. Her nose brushing his, close enough to feel his warm breath between them, his lips parted, hers skimming gently along his, hot, heavy breath, the pressure of his soft lips yielding to hers, the taste of his tongue. His hands, strong, firm, sliding slowly down her back, hitching up her shirt to touch skin as he pulled her closer. Her eyes fluttered, her breath caught in her throat, stomach churning. What the hell? It was Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. This couldn't be happening. She snapped back into herself so suddenly she wondered if she'd actually fallen asleep. Her heart was racing. Tae and Jungkook were looking at her when her eyes finally focused on a solid object. "Bad dream?" Tae asked with an amused smile. "Did I fall asleep?" She muttered, genuinely confused. She kept her gaze locked firmly on Tae. She could see Jungkook out of the corner of her eye but was terrified that whatever had just happened to her was written all over her face. "Well you just jumped out of your skin so I figured you had." He replied. Her face was burning. She could practically still feel Jungkook, smell him, taste him. She needed to get out of here. She jumped up, causing Suga whose head had been resting against her knee to flop unceremoniously back onto the sofa, waking him with a start. "HUH? He yelped. "Erm....sorry Shugs" she muttered, ruffling her hair and trying to get her bearings while still carefully avoiding looking at Jungkook at all. "I need to go...pass out" she grumbled, heading straight for the stairs without looking back. She knew that exit was highly suspicious but once into the safety of her room, she didn't care. She leaned against the door, bracing it with her body as though she expected someone to try kick it in. The air was cool and refreshing thanks to the open window and she breathed steadily, trying to return her thumping heart to a regular rhythm. "Oh this is not good!" She whispered. --------------------------------------------------------------------- The following morning came far too quickly after a restless night. She just couldn't settle. Her stomach was in knots. What the hell had happened last night? What was that half awake fantasy business and why was it replaying in her mind like an iMax movie with full surround sound and smell-o-vision. She dreaded leaving the confines of her room for fear of running into him. Just the thought of seeing him made her stomach churn. "This is stupid!" She grumbled to herself, throwing her legs off the bed defiantly. "I will not be a prisoner in this god damn room for nothing. Last night was...a one off. Everything is fine. I will go downstairs, I will see Jungkook and he will just be Jungkook. No weird romance movie slideshow, no flutterings, thoughts or desires of any kind. Just...normal" Even she didn't really believe her whispered self pep talk but she feigned conviction anyway. She slid out of bed, pulled on ripped jeans and a hoodie and approached her bedroom door. With a deep breath, she reached for the handle and practically threw herself out of her room. Her determination was not only building by the second but she was also flooded with a sense of defiance. She jogged down the stairs, ready for the day ahead. Looking forward to hanging out with the boys and having a lazy day. She could hear the faint murmer of chatter as she approached the kitchen. Hobi was up for sure and maybe Namjoon. She strode into the kitchen with a bright smile. "Morning guys!" She was greeted with a chorus of responses and scanned the room. Hobi making coffee. Namjoon leaning on the

counter. Suga slumped at the kitchen table. Jimin and Tae chatting as they poured orange juice. No Jungkook. She ignored the wave of relief and made a beeline for Suga, ruffling his hair as he grumbled sleepily against the table top. "Morning Shugs" she grinned. Namjoon was looking at her quizically. "You seem...better today" he mused. She raised a questioning eyebrow at him as she squeezed passed Hobi for the coffee pot. "Better?" He nodded with a look of amusement. "You were...weird yesterday. Not yourself. You seemed...distracted." he said. She shrugged and shook her head. "Jetlag probably. I felt kind of out of it to be honest. Just needed to be home and sleep" she replied, nonchalantly. Namjoon wasn't buying it at all and she could tell by the look on his face but he nodded as though he accepted her reasoning. She stayed in the kitchen with the guys, filling them in on her trip back to England and what had happened during the 3 months away. She got so caught up in it that she didn't think about Jungkook at all. That was, until he came down. She was halfway through her bowl of cereal when he padded into the kitchen. Barefoot in black shorts and an oversized white t shirt showing off his tattoos. His long hair deliciously tousled. He was still sleepy eyed but he looked warm and...inviting. She dropped her spoon, clattering loudly against the table making everyone turn and look at her. "Whoops. Butter fingers" she mumbled sheepisly. Everyone carried on with what they were doing apart from Namjoon who was looking from her to Jungkook with a smirk. "Jetlag come back?" He teased. She could feel the heat rising to her face and hoped to every deity under the sun that she wasn't blushing. "Never dropped anything before?" She questioned. He shrugged and chuckled playfully. His gaze was casual but she felt like he could see every thought in her head. She pushed her half eaten cereal bowl away from her and leaned back in her chair. She was trying to look casual but had an inkling that she was failing miserably. Suddenly Jungkook was right behind her, leaning over the back of her chair to reach for her unfinished cereal. His hair tickled the side of her face and the faint fruity smell she associated with him flooded over her. Her breath caught sharply. Her heart kicking into double time. It lasted literally seconds but it seemed like an age before he straightened up with his stolen breakfast. He flashed her a bunny smile and wandered over to the fridge to grab milk. She realised she'd been holding her breath the entire time and let out a quiet huff. Namjoon's smirk had turned into a full blown grin. Flustered, she stood from the table and exited the kitchen. Maybe she'd find some solace in the lounge. She flopped wearily onto the sofa, closing her eyes and exhaling slowly. Damn. It didn't make any sense. How in the hell had Jungkook turned from bunny to honey overnight. A few more tattoos, an eyebrow piercing and slightly longer hair didn't change him that dramatically. He was still the exact same Jungkook she'd known for years. But...he wasn't. He was hot. Like...painfully, sinfully, stomach clenchingly hot. Had he always been this hot and she'd just not noticed? She knew he was attractive in the general sense. She worked for BTS. She saw the effect he had on women every day of her life. But... she'd never been one of them. He was just...adorable, sweet, regular Jungkook. Now one trip to England had turned the world on its head and there was nothing regular about him. She groaned with annoyance, closing her eyes. She was going to be objective about this if it killed her. She'd always been close to all the guys. Each one had a different facet to their personality that made them so very dear to her. Yoongi was a part of her. She loved him completely. Namjoon was her confidante. She could talk about anything with him and absolutely trust that he'd never give her anything back but honesty and understanding. Jimin was her sunshine. He could brighten the darkest of days with no effort. Tae was her sweetheart. One of the most

genuine, lovely people she'd ever known. Hobi and Jin made her laugh until she couldn't breathe on days when laughter seemed a million miles away. And Jungkook was a bunny. Sweet, playful, easy going, her gaming buddy. They were all integral to her. But NEVER in a romantic sense. It seemed almost laughable to her to put romance and any one of them in the same place. It just wasn't that thing. Ever. They were family. More than simple, fleeting romance. They were her ride or die. None of the others had changed a bit. She still loved them completely. She'd still die for any one of them. But now Jungkook wasn't so much tiptoeing as stomping in huge obnoxious boots into a whole new territory for her. Him and romance seemed intrinsically linked. They went together like water and ...more water. She couldn't even look at him without her mind throwing up a million different scenarios, none of which were located even remotely near the friend zone. She pictured him as he was when he walked into the kitchen. Objectively, that was just early morning after not a lot of sleep Jungkook. Not like she hadn't seen him like that a thousand times before. But this morning he was different. Sleepy, disheveled, soft and warm, relaxed, comforting and so so sexy. Jungkook and sexy were not two words that went together. Now she couldn't separate the two if her life depended on it. God, he was sexy. Like, lose all thought, toe curling, scream into a pillow sexy. Her mind raced, presenting her with thoughts to only fuel the fire. Him laid in bed, languid and comfortable, snuggling into him, feeling his body heat, legs entwined, burying her face into the back of his neck, smelling his hair as he grumbles happily, rolling towards her with a sleepy smile, his eyes still closed, skimming his fingertips up her arm until they stop on her neck, his thumb slowly stroking along her jaw, his lips meet hers in a lazy kiss, still halfway between sleep and waking, sweet to begin with, gentle, his lips brushing softly as he's pulled from his sleep, then teasing as he realises what's going on, his lips part, his tongue tickling her lips, asking for entry which is happily granted. His hand moves from her neck back down her arm until he finds her hand. Their fingers entwine as he rolls her onto her back and straddles her, lifting her hands to pin them either side of her head. He's more forceful now, tongues brushing together, his kiss deep and heady. A soft moan of contentment rumbles in his throat. He breaks the kiss, her eyes flutter open to see him on top of her, hair falling into his eyes as he scrunches his nose up in a wide smile. "Good morning" he whispers. "Everything ok?" A voice broke her from her daydream and her eyes snapped open. Namjoon was stood in the doorway of the lounge with the same grin he'd been sporting when she'd left the kitchen. "Peachy. Why?" She responded with a tight smile. "You're being weird again. If I didn't know better I'd think you and Jungkook hooked up" he shrugged. "WHAT?" she squeeked. Her attempt at casual fell completely flat. She sounded more like she'd just been stung by a bee. Namjoon laughed heartily. "Something's going on. What it is?" He questioned. She considered brushing it off but this was Namjoon. He could read her like a children's book. She swallowed hard, suddenly needing to say everything in her head out loud to a human person. Maybe that would make her realise how dumb it was and restore her sanity. She sighed heavily and noticing the expression on her face, Namjoons grin faded into a look of concern. "Can we talk?" She muttered. He frowned, nodding. "Of course. What is it?" He asked. She looked around and ran her fingers though her hair. "Not here. Outside?"

[sunlightandsuffering]

Prompt : they are both famous and secretly dating.

tbh I don't know what this is or if it makes any sense at all, so sorry anon for butchering ur prompt, but I'm a basic bitch and I like my drake, so like this is gonna be pain bcuz my favourite song on the new album is just pain and I can't stop thinking about a fucked up celebs relationship to it, just ANGST AND PAIN!! 😭😭 but those lyrics hit, can't believe I wrote a song fic ugh circa Tumblr 2015 jfc I'mma write a happier ending to this in another prompt 😂 bc someone else asked for the same thing.

Fucking Fans

I'm still working on me

Eren stands at the Met Gala, holding Mikasa by the waist, giving a cramped smile for photos and keeping her close. People call their names and cameras flash and his beloved blinks, hiding her face into his shoulder as the lights overwhelm her.

He looks down at her lovingly as some jackass reporter yells about a cheating rumour and her pretty face pinches up. Eren is quick to comfort her with his touch, both hands gripping her waist reassuringly as he decides it's time for them to go inside.

"Come on Miki," he kisses her forehead and she nods, accepting. Neither of them wants to think about those rumours, the damage and the pain they bring up is too much and it's all his fault, he knows, but he can't undo it.

The guilt eats at him and she holds his hand tighter, the despair takes him and she cuddles him at night.

They're together now but sometimes Eren wonders just how it happened, how he came back from falling so far. How she took him back when he fucked up so massively.

And I'm coming back better for you

The day he shows up on her door step again is the day of the biggest awards show of the season, the one he knows she's going to kill and probably sweep several categories. Just because she's that amazing. He finds her where he expects, in her apartment, the address Armin gave him, doing her own hair and makeup, humble Mikasa just like always, ironing out her own dress. He shows up in a suit with as many white roses as he can fit into a bouquet and ready to leave if she still hates him, which she has every right to.

But he's been through months of therapy, gave Armin control of his bank account, and check himself into rehab thrice, every time he was even inching closer to relapse.

He's not fixed, but he's better, marginally, and he wants her to know it, know he still loves her at the very least.

She opens the door, beautiful even without makeup, and wearing a white slip and her pretty red mouth parts in shock.

All he can do is hold out his roses as tears leave his eyes at seeing her for the first time in months.

Most times it was my selfishness and your helplessness that I took advantage of

It was so easy with Mikasa, she was so devoted to him. So loving and sweet, always there for him.

She'd wait up, let him do what he wanted, never wanting to stifle or control him. Too afraid their tenuous relationship would crack and they'd break up.

A part of him blames her for it, for being so willing to let him do what he wanted. She'd been passive, unsure how to insert herself, had minimal complaints, letting him ruin his life party by party, late night after late night, drugs and alcohol all of it.

But he knows he can never hold her accountable for his own actions, and the day she's finally done with his bullshit is both the best and worst day of his life. She finally says no, and it begins his path to fixing himself. Because hitting rock bottom is losing the most important thing in his life, and that's Mikasa.

You sit in the house and I be out and I know you're worried, up

The problem with her passivity is he knows it's not passivity at all, she just doesn't know what to do, how to fix him. Eren has always had a temper, and she's known him for a long time, knows he'll lash out and behave worse if provoked. So she'd reacted as best she could, leaving rehab pamphlets out, asking him to stay in and watch movies, bake with her, anything other than going out to party.

But he'd stumble home every night and see her asleep on the couch, waiting. Always there to pick him up instead of a cab, not wanting the paparazzi to get a hold of him, she was always there.

And you try and block it out

They lived in a bubble, they pretended it didn't happen. They didn't acknowledge when he was too hungover to shoot the next morning. She'd brew him coffee, get him through the day, flush his drug stash when they checked, both his saving grace and biggest enabler.

Even when he's kissing her for more than just an on-screen kiss, lips drinking her in like a man starved, and the next morning she finds new girls in his bed, she keeps quiet.

They're a mess, but every time she dutifully kicks the girls out and drags him to the shower.

I'm so sorry for letting you down

When he'd first become famous, he hadn't known what to do with himself. He'd been scouted for how many movies, tv-shows, underwear commercials, brand deals. It was a whirlwind as Hollywood found their new boy wonder, handsome, smart and a nice boy.

His best friend, and female love interest in their debut movie, Mikasa, who had followed him to Hollywood on nothing more than a whim, was equally bombarded with fame and fortune. They'd always been close, always best friends, but never quite more, no matter how much they both obviously wanted it. It never progressed beyond a few acted kisses.

Still, they got an apartment together, and Eren had thought it was the start of something great, he was living the dream. Rich and famous with his best friend, the girl he'd secretly loved since he was young.

He'd been content just to stay up late and watch movies with her before work, to visit her on set and bring her donuts. They were Hollywood's shining stars, two kids sickeningly sweet in love even though they weren't officially dating, they were as good as.

At the advice of his agent, he'd started doing more, started picking up a few other gigs on the side, modelling, but he kept it small, he didn't want to overwhelm himself, and he still wanted time for Mikasa.

It had gone well, they'd taken fame okay, and Eren had been proud, neither of them had a sex-scandal or a pregnancy scare yet. They'd even been inching towards finally being something more than just friends, a few heated looks, some on-stage kisses to finally get the ball rolling.

Then Mikasa had been cast in an upcoming romance movie and her love interest hadn't been Eren, it had been Jean.

That had been the start of his spiral.

He'd never meant for it to get so far out of control, how many movies he started doing, how many promotions. Meanwhile Mikasa, smart, brilliant Mikasa stuck with smaller projects and only ever one at a time, preferring to keep close to their apartment. He was all she had, and she was all he wanted.

Nights when I just needed to hold somebody

He misses her, lays in bed awake at night thinking about her, how long it’s been, when was the last time he saw the curve of her face in person and not in a washed-out picture on a magazine. Girls in and out of his apartment, trying to fill the empty void inside him, and nothing works, nothing ever works. Because he’d fucked it up, said he didn’t need her, told her he could do it on his own, fame wouldn’t take him. Called each other names, every one in the book, screaming matches over stupid shit, if he should take that job, what she was doing with Jean, how she was eating, if she was eating enough.

The toxicity was palpable in their apartment until finally Mikasa just left and he broke.

Feeling overwhelmed, should've told somebody

Fame takes him like a drug addiction, actually it comes with a drug addiction, heroine, cocaine, molly, all of it. In trying to ditch his Hollywood’s sweetheart, good boy image he diverts his life so radically he doesn’t know if he can ever get back to where he was. He loses weight, barely gets by, he doesn’t even understand how he’s still getting booked, but people want him even more now that he’s Hollywood’s bad boy. Meanwhile Mikasa is disgraced now that he’s ‘thrown her away’ even though it was the other way around. Last he heard she lived in a little apartment on the upper east side, leaves only to work, and to fly up to see their families. He hasn’t seen his parents in months, doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to see the look in their eyes when they realize how skinny he’s gotten, how his body lacks muscle, skin barely clinging to bone, gaunt and lifeless.

He needs help, but he’s spiraling, he’s committed and no matter how many times Armin tries to get him into rehab, he never goes. What’s the point Mikasa is gone, he’s not getting her back, all he has now is the money, the drugs, and the women.

Picturin' it's me sending chills through your body

He hears she’s dating Jean now and somehow, he gets worse.

Every fear he’d ever had comes to life and he gets angry, his temper coming back full force. The past few months he’d barely been getting by, not really living, but his rage awakens him. She’d told him no, that they weren’t dating, never so much as kissed outside of work. What a fucking lie.

How many girls he takes home that month he doesn’t know, how many paparazzi photos of women leaving his apartment, how he dreams it’s Mikasa under him, not some rando.

He sees her on the cover of some magazine, walking innocently with Jean and it sends him into even more of a rage, but under it all he wishes it was him, doesn’t matter that they were never official, that it only happened a few times, he wants her back. But Eren’s never been good at navigating his emotions, so he clings to his rage like a lifeline.

I just probably should've chilled 'til I saw you

When they ask about her in interviews, he doesn’t answer. Not until that once, when he lets it slip and he watches Armin wilt in real time from behind the camera as he spits the words, “I think it’s obvious, she’s with Jean now isn’t she, right after she was with me, figure it out yourself.”

The insinuation is lethal, cruel, mean and he knows it’s not true, but he says it anyway. He knows she didn't do it, but still the coincidence hurts too much, the very thought that there might have been something romantic going on with them before makes him want to throw up.

The interviewer looks shocked before he brightens up at the tidbit of information, like a vulture picking apart the last pieces of his heart, massacring it further, but Eren doesn’t mind the pain anymore. It fuels his rage and that’s all he has these days.

How am I supposed to get to know somebody?

When the rage wears off months later and Mikasa has done nothing, no comment on his interviews, no appearances, no angry texts, just silence, he becomes numb. Then the sadness sets in, because losing her romantically isn’t even the worst part, he doesn’t even have his best friend anymore, he’s lost her too.

She’s become a recluse, a hermit, he hasn’t even seen her with Jean on the magazine covers lately. Distantly he knows it’s because their movie is finished filming, and she was probably never dating him in the first place.

He goes to awards shows in hopes of at least catching a glimpse but she’s gone into hiding, there’s rumours she’s back in their hometown, but he’d never visit, not with the disgrace he’s become. He tries to date seriously, tries to talk to other actresses, but it’s all so vacant, disingenuous. All they want him for is his image, there’s nothing real about these women anymore, everything is fake, plastic right down to their boobs. Nothing like Mikasa, who was pure to her core, even in the face of her fame.

If we broke it off then you know it wasn't painless

He'd cried for weeks after she'd ended it, despite it being entirely his fault.

Armin had cancelled all his engagements and Eren hadn't left the apartment, curling himself up on her empty mattress, her room a barren wasteland.

He'd only eaten when Armin forced him too, and only come out of his hibernation after his mother had called to yell, Armin holding the phone right in his ear, the first time he'd spoken to her in forever.

If she got a watch then you know it's not a stainless

He’s got money, but it means nothing. Mikasa has money too, it doesn’t even matter. What has it all been for? He doesn’t even know anymore. All he’s gotten from his acting career is trust issues, more money than he knows what do with and the loss of his best friend and the only girl he’s ever loved.

It’s all a blur now, he acts, he models, he does PR. Armin makes him a schedule and he follows it. They meet with his nutritionist and his personal trainer, and he starts working out again, eating real food, not just smoking, and drinking coffee to supress his appetite.

Armin is the only reason he’s still a functioning human being as Eren hits rock bottom. The only one left to try and push him out.

I was out here fucking fans, I was shameless

He knows he fucked up, it’s why he starts therapy.

The shit he’d done, high off his own fame and arrogance, it’s messed up and he he knows it now. All the girls, all the money and the drugs, ignoring Mikasa’s concerns, dragging her down with him.

He doesn’t blame her now, he knows none of it was fair, she was justified in leaving. They were toxic, their half on, half off relationship, how he'd commit to the drugs but never her.

He can still remember the first time he kissed her, really kissed her, Eren and Mikasa not two characters on screen. It was after their first awards show for their movie, he’d been so excited, so delightfully sober, he couldn’t help himself, she’d been so pretty in her white dress, he’d leaned down before he could stop himself. The first night they’d had sex, her moans, her soft cries of pleasure, nothing had ever measured up since.

It had been bliss, for about a month or so and then they’d really been discovered, and it had all been shot to hell.

All the fans, all the women throwing themselves at him, his eyes couldn’t help but wander despite Mikasa always being the most radiant in the room. He had her love, he’d had everything, but that insidious voice in the back of his head had wondered. Thought the grass was greener on the other side, wanting to explore fame at the same time they’d finally started their relationship.

You was at the crib reading stories that they sent you

They’d kept it casual at Eren’s insistence and Mikasa’s heartbreak, his rock had been willing to allow it for him, for the chance to finally explore their relationship. But he could see how much it hurt her, the tabloids were the worst part, every day a new cover, another apartment he’d leave, another hookup in the parking lot. And he could barely justify it to himself, why he did it, why he continued to do it? He had everything he could ever want in Mikasa, the girl he’d loved since forever, finally in the palm of his hand, willing to give herself wholly to him.

And yet fame had called him more, and the people he was hanging out with only encouraged it, the famous lifestyle, drugs, sex and rock and roll.

Everyone was doing it, so why shouldn’t he?

Most of that was bullshit but some of it I did do

The rumours spiralled out of control after a while, there was nothing he could do, it was over, they had too much on him.

He'd been telling himself lies that maybe she was with Jean on the side, that she had the same opportunities as him, she could go out and sleep around too.

As if Mikasa would ever even consider it.

He’d finally given into being exclusive, seeing the toll it was taking on Mikasa, after Armin smacked him upside the head and told him he was going to lose her if he didn’t get his shit together. Eren had finally realized how irreversibly he was fucking up his relationship, but by then, it had been too late.

When they finally started truly dating, monogamy and all, it had been far, far too late. The backlog of photos the paparazzi had was ridiculous, any opportunity they got to demonize him they took.

He and Mikasa been casual at the time of all the photos, sure, but anyone would buckle under the weight of constant articles about their significant other cheating. Eren became the villain in his own story, and Hollywood loved it, ‘Bad Boy Eren Yeager Ditches Mikasa Ackerman’. He still remembers the headline, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, she’d come home, dropped the offending magazine on the coffee table and hidden in her room for the rest of the night. He’d slept outside her door, and the next morning he’d been woken by her stepping over him to leave, bags packed.

It was sad, they’d never even officially dated to the public, they hadn’t gotten to that point. She’d wanted to reveal it at some awards show by taking him as her date, thanking him in her speech, her boyfriend, Eren Yeager. Overnight the paparazzi had singlehandedly broken them up for shit he hadn’t even done.

He had no one but himself to blame.

Hard for me to justify the women I was into

Looking back, he can’t say why he did it or what the purpose of all the models that looked eerily like her were for. Maybe he was trying to fill the empty space in his heart, maybe he felt neglected by her friendship with Jean and how obvious the man’s feeling for her were, but for one reason or another, he’d slept his way through about half of the Victoria’s Secret fashion show, and award shows were awkward these days. Meeting the eyes of all the talented women he’d hooked up with in such a professional setting was uncomfortable at best.

How many more did he not even remember, to high off drugs and alcohol and his own ego?

Especially when the whole entire world wished they had you

He’d seen it in how Jean looked at her the first time they’d walked the red carpet as promotion for their movie. The tall man was a b-list actor and he’d been invited to the pre-screening, and he’d watched Mikasa the entire night. His gaze wasn’t moved by Eren’s arm wrapped protectively around her waist or his chin resting on her head, nor the possessive hand on her thigh.

They hadn’t even been fooling around back then, but he couldn’t help himself, he didn’t want Jean’s eyes on her. She was also Mikasa Ackerman, and the whole world thought she was just as beautiful and amazing and perfect as he did.

But she was his. His best friend, love of his life, his everything

If only he’d treated her like it.

Probably made you want to hit the streets on everything

She doesn't take him to the awards show the night he comes begging, but she lets him inside her apartment. Lets him help her with her hair, something he's sorely missed. Something he's familiar with, been braiding her hair since they were kids.

He helps her put it up into a beautiful twist.

And when Jean knocks at her door to take her to the awards show he lets her go, kisses her cheek and tells her how much he loves her, how she's going to win it all and he'll be waiting her when she gets back.

And then she leaves, walks away with another man and Eren thinks he deserves it, it's his penance, how many times has she felt this same way, how many women has he been through?

Probably made you want to pour bleach on everything

He discovers not a single remnant of himself in her apartment, no pictures, no clothes she's borrowed. Even his old sweatshirt, her favourite one is gone. Hell, even their award for best-onscreen-kiss is gone.

He finds it all in a crumpled box under her bed and it's his own fault for snooping, their photo crumpled up and misshapen, riddled with water damage. Probably from her tears if he had to guess.

Probably made you want to kill me on everything

She comes home that night and Eren is surprised, he'd expected her to go to Jean's. Hadn't really believed she was going to come back. Had resigned himself to sleeping on the couch and waiting till tomorrow when she'd come home dishevelled and covered in hickeys and bruises, the kind good sex gives you. The kind he'd never really allowed himself to give her.

That's when she'd really broken and he'd been so fucking happy when she'd thrown her purse at him. No more of her her silent rage, her forced smiles. She'd kicked and screamed, cried in his arms only to hit him brutally with a pillow, chasing him to the end of the couch. Hands restraining his wrists, as she curses him out, tears running down her beautiful cheeks sparkling in the moonlight, she's a vengeful goddess and he deserves every second of her wrath.

She collapses on top of him in a heap of sobs and all he can do is hold her, hating himself just as much as he's sure she does.

Yeah, trust, I know that

He wakes the next morning with her weight in his arms, and he holds her like he never wants to let go.

He's lucky she's even here with him right now, that she didn't kick him out on the spot. That she even cares enough to still fight with him. He kisses her forehead softly, he knows.

Yeah I kinda hate this but whatever have angst 🤷🏻‍♀️

[taylorswifthongkong]

Taylor Swift broke all her rules with Folklore — and gave herself a much-needed escape The pop star, one of EW's 2020 Entertainers of the Year, delves deep into her surprise eighth album, Rebekah Harkness, and a Joe Biden presidency. By Alex Suskind

“He is my co-writer on ‛Betty’ and ‛Exile,’” replies Taylor Swift with deadpan precision. The question Who is William Bowery? was, at the time we spoke, one of 2020’s great mysteries, right up there with the existence of Joe Exotic and the sudden arrival of murder hornets. An unknown writer credited on the year’s biggest album? It must be an alias.

Is he your brother?

“He’s William Bowery,” says Swift with a smile.

It's early November, after Election Day but before Swift eventually revealed Bowery's true identity to the world (the leading theory, that he was boyfriend Joe Alwyn, proved prescient). But, like all Swiftian riddles, it was fun to puzzle over for months, particularly in this hot mess of a year, when brief distractions are as comforting as a well-worn cardigan. Thankfully, the Bowery... erhm, Alwyn-assisted Folklore — a Swift project filled with muted pianos and whisper-quiet snares, recorded in secret with Jack Antonoff and the National’s Aaron Dessner — delivered.

“The only people who knew were the people I was making it with, my boyfriend, my family, and a small management team,” Swift, 30, tells EW of the album's hush-hush recording sessions. That gave the intimate Folklore a mystique all its own: the first surprise Taylor Swift album, one that prioritized fantastical tales over personal confessions.

“Early in quarantine, I started watching lots of films,” she explains. “Consuming other people’s storytelling opened this portal in my imagination and made me feel like, Why have I never created characters and intersecting storylines?” That’s how she ended up with three songs about an imagined love triangle (“Cardigan,” “Betty,” “August”), one about a clandestine romance (“Illicit Affairs”), and another chronicling a doomed relationship (“Exile”). Others tell of sumptuous real-life figures like Rebekah Harkness, a divorcee who married the heir to Standard Oil — and whose home Swift purchased 31 years after her death. The result, “The Last Great American Dynasty,” hones in on Harkness’ story, until Swift cleverly injects herself.

And yet, it wouldn’t be a Swift album without a few barbed postmortems over her own history. Notably, “My Tears Ricochet” and “Mad Woman," which touch on her former label head Scott Borchetta selling the masters to Swift’s catalog to her known nemesis Scooter Braun. Mere hours after our interview, the lyrics’ real-life origins took a surprising twist, when news broke that Swift’s music had once again been sold, to another private equity firm, for a reported $300 million. Though Swift ignored repeated requests for comment on the transaction, she did tweet a statement, hitting back at Braun while noting that she had begun re-recording her old albums — something she first promised in 2019 as a way of retaining agency over her creative legacy. (Later, she would tease a snippet of that reimagined work, with a new version of her hit 2008 single "Love Story.")

Like surprise-dropping Folklore, like pissing off the president by endorsing his opponents, like shooing away haters, Swift does what suits her. “I don’t think we often hear about women who did whatever the hell they wanted,” she says of Harkness — something Swift is clearly intent on changing. For her, that means basking in the world of, and favorable response to, Folklore. As she says in our interview, “I have this weird thing where, in order to create the next thing, I attack the previous thing. I don’t love that I do that, but it is the thing that has kept me pivoting to another world every time I make an album. But with this one, I still love it.”

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: We’ve spent the year quarantined in our houses, trying to stay healthy and avoiding friends and family. Were you surprised by your ability to create and release a full album in the middle of a pandemic?

TAYLOR SWIFT: I was. I wasn't expecting to make an album. Early on in quarantine, I started watching lots of films. We would watch a different movie every night. I'm ashamed to say I hadn't seen Pan's Labyrinth before. One night I'd watch that, then I'd watch L.A. Confidential, then we'd watch Rear Window, then we'd watch Jane Eyre. I feel like consuming other people's art and storytelling sort of opened this portal in my imagination and made me feel like, "Well, why have I never done this before? Why have I never created characters and intersecting storylines? And why haven't I ever sort of freed myself up to do that from a narrative standpoint?" There is something a little heavy about knowing when you put out an album, people are going to take it so literally that everything you say could be clickbait. It was really, really freeing to be able to just be inspired by worlds created by the films you watch or books you've read or places you've dreamed of or people that you've wondered about, not just being inspired by your own experience.

In that vain, what's it like to sit down and write something like “Betty,” which is told from the perspective of a 17-year-old boy?

That was huge for me. And I think it came from the fact that my co-writer, William Bowery [Joe Alwyn], is male — and he was the one who originally thought of the chorus melody. And hearing him sing it, I thought, "That sounds really cool." Obviously, I don't have a male voice, but I thought, "I could have a male perspective." Patty Griffin wrote this song, “Top of the World.” It's one of my favorite songs of all time, and it's from the perspective of this older man who has lived a life full of regret, and he's kind of taking stock of that regret. So, I thought, "This is something that people I am a huge fan of have done. This would be fun to kind of take this for a spin."

What are your favorite William Bowery conspiracies?

I love them all individually and equally. I love all the conspiracy theories around this album. [With] "Betty," Jack Antonoff would text me these articles and think pieces and in-depth Tumblr posts on what this love triangle meant to the person who had listened to it. And that's exactly what I was hoping would happen with this album. I wrote these stories for a specific reason and from a specific place about specific people that I imagined, but I wanted that to all change given who was listening to it. And I wanted it to start out as mine and become other people's. It's been really fun to watch.

One of the other unique things about Folklore — the parameters around it were completely different from anything you'd done. There was no long roll out, no stadium-sized pop anthems, no aiming for the radio-friendly single. How fearful were you in avoiding what had worked in the past?

I didn't think about any of that for the very first time. And a lot of this album was kind of distilled down to the purest version of what the story is. Songwriting on this album is exactly the way that I would write if I considered nothing else other than, "What words do I want to write? What stories do I want to tell? What melodies do I want to sing? What production is essential to tell those stories?" It was a very do-it-yourself experience. My management team, we created absolutely everything in advance — every lyric video, every individual album package. And then we called our label a week in advance and said, "Here's what we have.” The photo shoot was me and the photographer walking out into a field. I'd done my hair and makeup and brought some nightgowns. These experiences I was used to having with 100 people on set, commanding alongside other people in a very committee fashion — all of a sudden it was me and a photographer, or me and my DP. It was a new challenge, because I love collaboration. But there's something really fun about knowing what you can do if it's just you doing it.

Did you find it freeing?

I did. Every project involves different levels of collaboration, because on other albums there are things that my stylist will think of that I never would've thought of. But if I had all those people on the photo shoot, I would've had to have them quarantine away from their families for weeks on end, and I would've had to ask things of them that I didn't think were fair if I could figure out a way to do it [myself]. I had this idea for the [Folklore album cover] that it would be this girl sleepwalking through the forest in a nightgown in 1830 [laughs]. Very specific. A pioneer woman sleepwalking at night. I made a moodboard and sent it to Beth [Garrabrant], who I had never worked with before, who shoots only on film. We were just carrying bags across a field and putting the bags of film down, and then taking pictures. It was a blast.

Folklore includes plenty of intimate acoustic echoes to what you've done in the past. But there are also a lot of new sonics here, too — these quiet, powerful, intricately layered harmonics. What was it like to receive the music from Aaron and try to write lyrics on top of it? 

Well, Aaron is one of the most effortlessly prolific creators I've ever worked with. It's really mind-blowing. And every time I've spoken to an artist since this whole process [began], I said, "You need to work with him. It'll change the way you create." He would send me these — he calls them sketches, but it's basically an instrumental track. the second day — the day after I texted him and said, "Hey, would you ever want to work together?" — he sent me this file of probably 30 of these instrumentals and every single one of them was one of the most interesting, exciting things I had ever heard. Music can be beautiful, but it can be lacking that evocative nature. There was something about everything he created that is an immediate image in my head or melody that I came up with. So much so that I'd start writing as soon as I heard a new one. And oftentimes what I would send back would inspire him to make more instrumentals and then send me that one. And then I wrote the song and it started to shape the project, form-fitted and customized to what we wanted to do.

It was weird because I had never made an album and not played it for my girlfriends or told my friends. The only people who knew were the people that I was making it with, my boyfriend, my family, and then my management team. So that's the smallest number of people I've ever had know about something. I'm usually playing it for everyone that I'm friends with. So I had a lot of friends texting me things like, "Why didn't you say on our everyday FaceTimes you were making a record?"

Was it nice to be able to keep it a secret?

Well, it felt like it was only my thing. It felt like such an inner world I was escaping to every day that it almost didn't feel like an album. Because I wasn't making a song and finishing it and going, "Oh my God, that is catchy.” I wasn't making these things with any purpose in mind. And so it was almost like having it just be mine was this really sweet, nice, pure part of the world as everything else in the world was burning and crashing and feeling this sickness and sadness. I almost didn't process it as an album. This was just my daydream space.

Does it still feel like that?

Yeah, because I love it so much. I have this weird thing that I do when I create something where in order to create the next thing I kind of, in my head, attack the previous thing. I don't love that I do that but it is the thing that has kept me pivoting to another world every time I make an album. But with this one, I just still love it. I'm so proud of it. And so that feels very foreign to me. That doesn't feel like a normal experience that I've had with releasing albums.

When did you first learn about Rebekah Harkness?

Oh, I learned about her as soon as I was being walked through [her former Rhode Island] home. I got the house when I was in my early twenties as a place for my family to congregate and be together. I was told about her, I think, by the real estate agent who was walking us through the property. And as soon as I found out about her, I wanted to know everything I could. So I started reading. I found her so interesting. And then as more parallels began to develop between our two lives — being the lady that lives in that house on the hill that everybody gets to gossip about — I was always looking for an opportunity to write about her. And I finally found it.

I love that you break the fourth wall in the song. Did you go in thinking you’d include yourself in the story?

I think that in my head, I always wanted to do a country music, standard narrative device, which is: the first verse you sing about someone else, the second verse you sing about someone else who's even closer to you, and then in the third verse, you go, "Surprise! It was me.” You bring it personal for the last verse. And I'd always thought that if I were to tell that story, I would want to include the similarities — our lives or our reputations or our scandals.

How often did you regale friends about the history of Rebekah and Holiday House while hanging out at Holiday House? 

Anyone who's been there before knows that I do “The Tour,” in quotes, where I show everyone through the house. And I tell them different anecdotes about each room, because I've done that much research on this house and this woman. So in every single room, there's a different anecdote about Rebekah Harkness. If you have a mixed group of people who've been there before and people who haven't, [the people who’ve been there] are like, "Oh, she's going to do the tour. She's got to tell you the story about how the ballerinas used to practice on the lawn.” And they'll go get a drink and skip it because it's the same every time. But for me, I'm telling the story with the same electric enthusiasm, because it's just endlessly entertaining to me that this fabulous woman lived there. She just did whatever she wanted.

There are a handful of songs on Folklore that feel like pretty clear nods to your personal life over the last year, including your relationships with Scott Borchetta and Scooter Braun. How long did it take to crystallize the feelings you had around both of them into “My Tears Ricochet” or “Mad Woman”?

I found myself being very triggered by any stories, movies, or narratives revolving around divorce, which felt weird because I haven't experienced it directly. There’s no reason it should cause me so much pain, but all of a sudden it felt like something I had been through. I think that happens any time you've been in a 15-year relationship and it ends in a messy, upsetting way. So I wrote “My Tears Ricochet” and I was using a lot of imagery that I had conjured up while comparing a relationship ending to when people end an actual marriage. All of a sudden this person that you trusted more than anyone in the world is the person that can hurt you the worst. Then all of a sudden the things that you have been through together, hurt. All of a sudden, the person who was your best friend is now your biggest nemesis, etc. etc. etc. I think I wrote some of the first lyrics to that song after watching Marriage Story and hearing about when marriages go wrong and end in such a catastrophic way. So these songs are in some ways imaginary, in some ways not, and in some ways both.

How did it feel to drop an F-bomb on "Mad Woman"?

F---ing fantastic.

And that’s the first time you ever recorded one on a record, right?

Yeah. Every rule book was thrown out. I always had these rules in my head and one of them was, You haven't done this before, so you can't ever do this. “Well, you've never had an explicit sticker, so you can't ever have an explicit sticker.” But that was one of the times where I felt like you need to follow the language and you need to follow the storyline. And if the storyline and the language match up and you end up saying the F-word, just go for it. I wasn't adhering to any of the guidelines that I had placed on myself. I decided to just make what I wanted to make. And I'm really happy that the fans were stoked about that because I think they could feel that. I'm not blaming anyone else for me restricting myself in the past. That was all, I guess, making what I want to make. I think my fans could feel that I opened the gate and ran out of the pasture for the first time, which I'm glad they picked up on because they're very intuitive.

Let’s talk about “Epiphany.” The first verse is a nod to your grandfather, Dean, who fought in World War II. What does his story mean to you personally? 

I wanted to write about him for awhile. He died when I was very young, but my dad would always tell this story that the only thing that his dad would ever say about the war was when somebody would ask him, "Why do you have such a positive outlook on life?" My grandfather would reply, "Well, I'm not supposed to be here. I shouldn't be here." My dad and his brothers always kind of imagined that what he had experienced was really awful and traumatic and that he'd seen a lot of terrible things. So when they did research, they learned that he had fought at the Battles of Guadalcanal, at Cape Gloucester, at Talasea, at Okinawa. He had seen a lot of heavy fire and casualties — all of the things that nightmares are made of. He was one of the first people to sign up for the war. But you know, these are things that you can only imagine that a lot of people in that generation didn't speak about because, a) they didn't want people that they came home to to worry about them, and b) it just was so bad that it was the actual definition of unspeakable.

That theme continues in the next verse, which is a pretty overt nod to what’s been happening during COVID. As someone who lives in Nashville, how difficult has it been to see folks on Lower Broadway crowding the bars without masks?

I mean, you just immediately think of the health workers who are putting their lives on the line — and oftentimes losing their lives. If they make it out of this, if they see the other side of it, there's going to be a lot of trauma that comes with that; there's going to be things that they witnessed that they will never be able to un-see. And that was the connection that I drew. I did a lot of research on my grandfather in the beginning of quarantine, and it hit me very quickly that we've got a version of that trauma happening right now in our hospitals. God, you hope people would respect it and would understand that going out for a night isn't worth the ripple effect that it causes. But obviously we're seeing that a lot of people don't seem to have their eyes open to that — or if they do, a lot of people don't care, which is upsetting.

You had the Lover Fest East and West scheduled this year. How hard has it been to both not perform for your fans this year, and see the music industry at large go through such a brutal change?

It's confusing. It's hard to watch. I think that maybe me wanting to make as much music as possible during this time was a way for me to feel like I could reach out my hand and touch my fans, even if I couldn't physically reach out or take a picture with them. We've had a lot of different, amazing, fun, sort of underground traditions we've built over the years that involve a lot of human interaction, and so I have no idea what's going to happen with touring; none of us do. And that's a scary thing. You can't look to somebody in the music industry who's been around a long time, or an expert touring manager or promoter and [ask] what's going to happen and have them give you an answer. I think we're all just trying to keep our eyes on the horizon and see what it looks like. So we're just kind of sitting tight and trying to take care of whatever creative spark might exist and trying to figure out how to reach our fans in other ways, because we just can't do that right now.

When you are able to perform again, do you have plans on resurfacing a Lover Fest-type event?

I don't know what incarnation it'll take and I really would need to sit down and think about it for a good solid couple of months before I figured out the answer. Because whatever we do, I want it to be something that is thoughtful and will make the fans happy and I hope I can achieve that. I'm going to try really hard to.

In addition to recording an album, you spent this year supporting Joe Biden and Kamala Harris in the election. Where were you when it was called in their favor? 

Well, when the results were coming in, I was actually at the property where we shot the Entertainment Weekly cover. I was hanging out with my photographer friend, Beth, and the wonderful couple that owned the farm where we [were]. And we realized really early into the night that we weren't going to get an accurate picture of the results. Then, a couple of days later, I was on a video shoot, but I was directing, and I was standing there with my face shield and mask on next to my director of photography, Rodrigo Prieto. And I just remember a news alert coming up on my phone that said, "Biden is our next president. He's won the election." And I showed it to Rodrigo and he said, "I'm always going to remember the moment that we learned this." And I looked around, and people's face shields were starting to fog up because a lot of people were really misty-eyed and emotional, and it was not loud. It wasn't popping bottles of champagne. It was this moment of quiet, cautious elation and relief.

Do you ever think about what Folklore would have sounded like if you, Aaron, and Jack had been in the same room?

I think about it all the time. I think that a lot of what has happened with the album has to do with us all being in a collective emotional place. Obviously everybody's lives have different complexities and whatnot, but I think most of us were feeling really shaken up and really out of place and confused and in need of something comforting all at the same time. And for me, that thing that was comforting was making music that felt sort of like I was trying to hug my fans through the speakers. That was truly my intent. Just trying to hug them when I can't hug them.

I wanted to talk about some of the lyrics on Folklore. One of my favorite pieces of wordplay is in “August”: that flip of "sipped away like a bottle of wine/slipped away like a moment in time.” Was there an "aha moment" for you while writing that?

I was really excited about "August slipped away into a moment of time/August sipped away like a bottle of wine." That was a song where Jack sent me the instrumental and I wrote the song pretty much on the spot; it just was an intuitive thing. And that was actually the first song that I wrote of the "Betty" triangle. So the Betty songs are "August," "Cardigan," and "Betty." "August" was actually the first one, which is strange because it's the song from the other girl's perspective.

Yeah, I assumed you wrote "Cardigan" first.

It would be safe to assume that "Cardigan" would be first, but it wasn't. It was very strange how it happened, but it kind of pieced together one song at a time, starting with "August," where I kind of wanted to explore the element of This is from the perspective of a girl who was having her first brush with love. And then all of a sudden she's treated like she's the other girl, because there was another situation that had already been in place, but "August" girl thought she was really falling in love. It kind of explores the idea of the undefined relationship. As humans, we're all encouraged to just be cool and just let it happen, and don't ask what the relationship is — Are we exclusive? But if you are chill about it, especially when you're young, you learn the very hard lesson that if you don't define something, oftentimes they can gaslight you into thinking it was nothing at all, and that it never happened. And how do you mourn the loss of something once it ends, if you're being made to believe that it never happened at all?

"I almost didn't process it as an album," says Taylor Swift of making Folklore. "And it's still hard for me to process as an entity or a commodity, because [it] was just my daydream space."

On the flip side, "Peace" is bit more defined in terms of how one approaches a relationship. There's this really striking line, "The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me/Would it be enough if I can never give you peace?" How did that line come to you?

I'm really proud of that one too. I heard the track immediately. Aaron sent it to me, and it had this immediate sense of serenity running through it. The first word that popped into my head was peace, but I thought that it would be too on-the-nose to sing about being calm, or to sing about serenity, or to sing about finding peace with someone. Because you have this very conflicted, very dramatic conflict-written lyric paired with this very, very calming sound of the instrumental. But, "The devil's in the details," is one of those phrases that I've written down over the years. That's a common phrase that is used in the English language every day. And I just thought it sounded really cool because of the D, D sound. And I thought, "I'll hang onto those in a list, and then, I'll finally find the right place for them in a story." I think that's how a lot of people feel where it's like, "Yeah, the devil's in the details. Everybody's complex when you look under the hood of the car." But basically saying, "I'm there for you if you want that, if this complexity is what you want."

There's another clever turn-of-phrase on "This is Me Trying." "I didn't know if you'd care if I came back/I have a lot of regrets about that." That feels like a nod toward your fans, and some of the feelings you had about retreating from the public sphere.

Absolutely. I think I was writing from three different characters' perspectives, one who's going through that; I was channeling the emotions I was feeling in 2016, 2017, where I just felt like I was worth absolutely nothing. And then, the second verse is about dealing with addiction and issues with struggling every day. And every second of the day, you're trying not to fall into old patterns, and nobody around you can see that, and no one gives you credit for it. And then, the third verse, I was thinking, what would the National do? What lyric would Matt Berninger write? What chords would the National play? And it's funny because I've since played this song for Aaron, and he's like, "That's not what we would've done at all." He's like, "I love that song, but that's totally different than what we would've done with it."

When we last spoke, in April 2019, we were talking about albums we were listening to at the time and you professed your love for the National and I Am Easy to Find. Two months later, you met up with Aaron at their concert, and now, we're here talking about the National again.

Yeah, I was at the show where they were playing through I Am Easy to Find. What I loved about [that album] was they had female vocalists singing from female perspectives, and that triggered and fired something in me where I thought, "I've got to play with different perspectives because that is so intriguing when you hear a female perspective come in from a band where you're used to only hearing a male perspective." It just sparked something in me. And obviously, you mentioning the National is the reason why Folklore came to be. So, thank you for that, Alex.

I'm here for all of your songwriting muse needs in the future.

I can't wait to see what comes out of this interview.

This interview has been edited and condensed.

For more on our Entertainers of the Year and Best & Worst of 2020, order the January issue of Entertainment Weekly or find it on newsstands beginning Dec. 18. (You can also pick up the full set of six covers here.) Don’t forget to subscribe for more exclusive interviews and photos, only in EW.

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair 

Chapter 25: Human Wonder 125

Summary: Faerie meets TV

Read on AO3

Read chp 25 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list

Human Wonder 125

***

Jamie had thought long and hard about how to approach introducing Claire to television. As much as he thought he’d come to know her, he wasn’t entirely sure how she’d react, seeing as how he would probably be terrified of it in her position. He eventually settled on a nature show— something familiar to her to introduce the idea of moving pictures. 

He had tried his best to explain the concept to her beforehand, but her sweet, honey eyes had simply glazed over. He finally gave up and told her he’d simply have to show her.  

As he settled down on the couch with the remote, Claire beelined (typical) toward his lap. She slid on smoothly, her hand hooking around his neck as she all but fell on top of him. Laughing, he caught her around the waist and back, dipping her a bit as she settled in. 

“Hi,” he said fondly, looking down at her. 

“Hi,” she echoed back in a voice so sweet he would probably need some dental work. 

“Are ye ready, lass?” he asked, pulling her upright on his lap so he could focus on getting the show started. 

“Yes,” she said exuberantly. 

She snuggled down against him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, and she grabbed his free arm to wrap it around her middle, not even giving him the chance to do it himself. He obliged, quite willingly, and gave her an affectionate squeeze. 

As he pressed the power button and she watched the TV light up, she snapped her eyes shut and shoved her face forcefully into Jamie’s neck. 

“It’s bright!” she cried. 

Jamie couldn’t help his laugh. He probably would be laughing at her quite a bit during this experience, so he hoped she wouldn’t mind. 

“Aye, it is. Yer eyes will adjust.”

She withdrew hesitantly, a great deal less excited than she had been a moment ago. Jamie clicked on Netflix as Claire looked back toward the screen. 

Jamie found himself bemoaning the position she’d chosen on his lap. He couldn’t see her face, so he wouldn’t be able to see her reactions when he actually started a show. Abandoning the remote for a second, he grabbed Claire around the waist with both hands and lifted her out of his lap to deposit her to his side. 

“Hey!” she said indignantly, leveling him with a pout that had his insides twisting in mirth and affection. 

“I want tae watch ye, lass. And as bonny as the back of yer heid is—” he cupped a fond hand over the back of said head, “I think yer face will be more entertaining.” For good measure, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

“Oh,” was all she said. 

She looked at him for a long second, but then, once she decided not to be offended, she cuddled up close to his side. Jamie’s breath caught as he felt her tuck herself underneath his arm. (No matter how many times Claire touched him, he didn’t think he could ever get over it. If she stayed with him until they were old and grey— as he wished to God she would— Jamie thought his stomach would still be sent into knots any time she was even near him). He quickly got with the program and draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. 

Feeling like a stereotypical couple— only the girlfriend was a faerie who had never once laid eyes on a tv— Jamie held the remote out in front of them and started the show. 

It was a David Attenborough nature film, a special on Scotland that Jamie had found. It started with an aerial shot of a loch— probably Ness, he figured. A beautiful shot that highlighted the expanse of the scenery. 

The second it came on screen, Claire stiffened. Her back went ramrod straight, and Jamie’s gaze whipped back to her to find her eyes were as big as watermelons. Her mouth had fallen open, and he could hear her breaths coming in rapid pants as the movie continued, changing to various scenic views. 

Claire’s body let out an involuntary shiver, a huge spasm that went down the length of her body, and Jamie suddenly grew concerned. But just as he was about to ask if he should stop it, Claire suddenly was disappearing from under his arm. 

Jamie closed his mouth and simply watched as she rose from the couch and began to float toward the tv. Because floating truly was the best way to describe it. She was padding on incredibly light feet, hunched slightly with her head pushed forward and cocked to the side like a curious cat. She drew closer and closer to the tv, her hand outstretched. He could hear her excited breaths all the way from the couch, and it took all his willpower to stay silent in the face of her adorable behavior. 

Her hand made contact with the screen, and then she suddenly jumped back as the scene changed and bright light emanated from the tv. 

“It’s flowers,” she breathed, commenting on the picture currently being shown. 

“Aye,” Jamie answered. 

Her hand pressed flat against the screen this time (but Jamie couldn’t have cared less). 

“But they’re not actually in there?’ she questioned, darting a quick glance behind the tv as if to double check, “so how do they show them?” 

“It’s verra difficult to explain, lass,” he chuckled, “maybe jes’ sit back down and watch a little more.”

Claire wasn’t even listening to him at this point. She stepped back a couple feet from the tv but remained smack dab in front of it. He saw her head moving back and forth quickly, trying to take it all in. All of a sudden, she plopped down, folding her legs and staring up at the screen. The image was so much like a child enraptured with Sunday morning cartoons that Jamie had to stifle a smile. 

She stayed like that for a long time, silently growing more and more absorbed in the program. Her back was straight at attention, her hands stuck down in her lap, and her eyes were glued to the screen. 

Jamie found himself getting a bit jealous. It was absurd, but Claire’s newfound obsession with the TV meant that he was left sitting on the couch by himself. He hadn’t had a moment with this much personal space while Claire was in the room for a long time, and he found himself mourning the loss of her. Who knew, maybe she would abandon him completely now that she’d found a love for the screen?

His jealousies were assuaged when Claire tore her eyes away to look back and give him a bright smile. 

“This is magic, Jamie,” she breathed. 

“Aye, it seems like it,” he couldn’t help but agree. 

She spared another glance back at him, and this time her face showed an adorably conflicted expression. He could read that one like a book. She was trying to decide whether to come back to him or stay “with the tv.”

This was a monumental moment. Jamie felt like he should eye the tv with narrowed eyes; he never would have guessed when he bought it that he’d be in competition for his girlfriend’s love with the thing. Putting on the charm, he gave Claire a smile. He had something the tv didn’t— well a few somethings…. but one in particular. And he was going to win. 

“Come sit wi’ me, lass,” he said in a silky smooth voice, “I’ll keep ye warm, aye?” 

Take that, television. 

That was all it took to convince her. She scrambled up, nearly tripping in her haste, and smiled innocently as she all but threw herself onto Jamie. All the air was knocked out of him in an oomph, but he was too high on his feeling of victory to mind too much. He let her pin him down to the couch as her knees came down on either side of his legs. Then, her lips were all over his face. She sprinkled kisses all over him, pressing her lips in a barrage of brushes over the skin of his cheeks and forehead and chin. 

“Woah,” he chuckled, his hands going around her instinctively, smoothing over her waist and up her back. 

He was helpless under her, and completely taken aback by her sudden accosting of him. 

“You were jealous, weren’t you?” Claire said when she had finished covering his face in kisses. 

“Nae,” he lied. 

As soon as the word had left his mouth, she was laughing. “Don’t lie to me, James Fraser. I can feel your jealousy right now.” 

“Damn empathic powers,” he mumbled before he caught her lips in a possessive kiss. 

“Don’t worry,” she breathed against his lips, “nothing will ever compare to you. Not even your magic… what is it called again?”

“Television,” he filled in, already regretting teaching her this. 

“Mmm, television.”

As if that was all the reassurance he was allotted, Claire abruptly slid off his lap and settled in at his side to stare at the tv again. Living up to his promise, Jamie brought an arm around her shoulder and pressed the warmth of his body to her ever-chilled one. 

After another couple of minutes of Claire watching the screen and Jamie watching Claire, her entire face suddenly lit up. Her hand flew to grab Jamie’s arm— her wee fingers gripping with incredible force for someone so small— and she let out a gasp. 

“What is it, lass?”

“That was my loch!” she said, pointing enthusiastically, borderline frantically at the screen, which had already changed to a different view, “it was my loch, Jamie! I know it was!” 

At the mention of her home, Jamie’s heart sunk all the way to the pit of his stomach. He had to swallow down the sudden onslaught of emotion— some odd mix of guilt, unease, and the crazy wish that her past would never be brought up for fear of her thinking she made a mistake staying with him. 

Thankfully, Claire was too enraptured to take stock of his feelings— his feelings that at the particular moment were filled with pettiness.  

“I promise it was! I would know it anywhere! Even inside this ‘television!’” she continued. 

“I’m sure it was,” Jamie agreed through the lump in his throat, “is it no’ amazin’ that ye can see real things while yer sittin’ here on my couch?”

She turned to him with a smile so wide that her mouth parted open. “It’s wonderful!” 

He couldn’t help it. He leaned in and took her lips in a gentle kiss, feeling the need to anchor himself to her. She was here. She’d chosen him. She wasn’t going back just from seeing a simple reminder of home. 

She kissed him back, unable to stop from smiling even as she pressed her lips to his. 

When he pulled back, she grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. Her attention shifted once more to the program. 

As Claire watched the screen, Jamie began to absently trace along her skin. First just making circles on her hand with his thumb, then letting go to trace the backs of his fingers up and down her forearm. Her skin was so exquisitely soft— Jamie thought no sensation could ever compare to touching it. His exploration wandered up further until he was stroking her cheek. 

It took him aback for a second when he realized the role reversal. Here he was, touching her so completely unabashedly, lost in the wonder of the feel of her. Claire must have been rubbing off on him.  

A few minutes later, she turned back to Jamie, this time with a slight frown on her face. 

“It makes my head hurt,” she said. The crease between her eyes was back, and Jamie was swept up at the sight of it. 

“Poor thing,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to each eyelid, which fluttered closed as he drew near, “Too much bright light for ye, I think. Let’s take a break for now, aye?” 

Claire gave a nod (the absence of a pout clearly indicating the growing severity of her headache), and he reached for the remote to power it down. 

“Well,” he said, once they were left without entertainment once more, “what did ye think about yer first television show?” 

“It was wonderful,” Claire sighed, “but I don’t understand it one bit.” 

“Neither do I, lass,” Jamie agreed, “neither do I.” 

***

Sometime later, Claire and Jamie were in the kitchen where Jamie was preparing his dinner while Claire sat at the table, looking on. 

When Jamie glanced over at her— as he couldn’t help but do— he found her sitting with her arms rested on the kitchen table and her hands pressed to her face. 

“Are ye alright, a leannan?” Jamie asked. 

“I don’t feel so well,” Claire admitted from beneath the cover of her hands. 

His insides clenching in worry, Jamie set down the knife where he’d been chopping vegetables and washed his hands before approaching her. 

He stood next to her and cupped a hand over the back of her head. 

She looked up at him then, her head falling back to rest against his hand, and her expression made his concern amp up a couple of notches. Her eyes didn’t hold their usual sparkle, and the lids seemed hooded with fatigue. Her face seemed pale too, even those bonny pink lips holding less color than usual. 

Jamie hummed sympathetically, his eyebrows drawing together. 

“Ye look tired, a leannan,” he commented quietly. 

“I am,” she confirmed. Her hand came up to wrap gently around Jamie’s forearm— not to move it, but simply to connect them through touch. 

Jamie quickly sat down in the chair next to her so he could look her in the eyes. He studied her for another long moment, unsure how to proceed. At this particular moment, there was nothing he could do but hope for the best, since any kind of medication was out of the question. She couldn’t simply pop a tylenol. 

“Let’s get ye to bed, aye? Maybe ye’ll feel better wi’ a wee bit of rest?” he suggested gently. 

“I think so,” she nodded, voice slightly breathless. 

Catching him still looking at her, she gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Jamie. I think the TV just gave me a bit of a headache. Like you said, it’ll probably be better in the morning.” 

Jamie felt the slightest bit better at that, the tension in his shoulders easing. If she wasn’t worried, neither was he. Well... that wasn’t entirely true. He always worried when it came to her and always would, but at least he had a hope to rest on. 

Surely it would pass soon. 

He went upstairs with Claire to lay down with her, slotting her wee body against his and holding her close. His attention remained fixed on her long after her breathing slowed into the rhythm of sleep. 

Looking down at her, she seemed peaceful. A hint of a smile spread over her lips, but the rest of her face was smooth and without tension. 

Even seeing her looking so peaceful, he began to feel uneasy about the situation. The more he thought on it, the more he realized she didn’t seem like her usual self. When it came to Claire, he paid attention to every little thing. He noticed the furrow in her brow, the tension in her face, even the downturn to her lips when she thought he wasn’t looking. He’d been making a lot of excuses, coming up with reasons for why she seemed to be feeling unwell. But those reasons were beginning to feel hollow, and he worried there was something bigger going on. 

Or perhaps he was just overthinking. His protective instinct did seem to go into overdrive around Claire. Perhaps she truly did just have a headache, and he was overreacting. Maybe his brain was simply trying to sabotage the happiness he was finding with her.  

Faced with these two possibilities, Jamie recalled what his mother always used to tell him when he complained of being sick. 

“Go to sleep, Jamie. It’ll be better in the morning.” 

Helpless to do anything else, he prayed that his mother’s words would ring true. 

This was all Claire needed— he told himself firmly— a good night sleep. 

***

Tbc

[writingblackpink]

If You Leave Now, You Lose Everything (pt. 1)

read pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4

genre: angst (sorry)

word count: 3.5k

pairing: jennie x reader

You and Jennie have been together for two years now. While the relationship has been rocky as of recently, will you find a way to make it work before it's too late?

A/N: Hi! First fic on tumblr let’s goooooo! I hope you enjoy it :) Let me know what you think!

-

Her voice never sounded so cold.

“This can never work.” Her voice came out tired and weak. “We both know it yet we keep going around in these circles and it’s not healthy. For either of us. Sooner or later we were bound to hit a wall.”

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears that threatened to spill out of your glassy eyes and over and out onto your flushed cheeks. You were standing behind Jennie, maybe ten feet or so, staring at her back facing you. She was holding her bags and was only mere seconds from taking a few steps and walking out your door for the very last time.

Your mind was a mess, but you shook it back and forth as if that would help your thoughts get in formation to help sort this out. You felt paralyzed in your spot; unmoving, barely breathing for fear of being too loud and breaking the deafening silence. You didn’t know what Jennie’s next move was, and for the first time in the two years you both had been together, you were afraid.

The relationship wasn’t all bad. You met Jennie when you were out shopping. You could see someone looking at you out of the corner of your eye as you sifted through some jeans on the rack and looked up just as she averted her gaze and easily jumped back into conversation with her friends, making it seem like it was all an illusion; like you made it up. You caught her doing this a few times while you were in the store, but didn’t think much of it. You knew she was a celebrity, in fact she was on a billboard right outside the store, but pop culture didn’t interest you much so you couldn’t say you were a big fan of her or her group. Not that you didn’t like them, you just didn’t know much about them.

Her group left the store and you finished your shopping uninterrupted. After checking out nearly half an hour later, you left the store with your head down, organizing your wallet in your purse when you heard a voice behind you. Not thinking anything of it, you kept walking until you heard the voice again.

“Hey! Hey, I know you can hear me!” She exclaimed. You briskly turned on your heels and not expecting your sudden movement, Jennie quite literally ran right into you. Catching her in your arms, you couldn’t help but think this felt like a movie scene. You looked down at her for a brief second, getting lost in her eyes. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. You figured the same was happening for her because as soon as you both realized what was happening, you jolted away from each other like you touched something you shouldn’t have.

She averted her eyes when she spoke next.

“I’m so sorry. I..uh...I saw you in the store and wasn’t sure how to approach you so I ended up leaving,” She meets your eyes, unsure, “but I came back when I realized I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to ask a beautiful girl like you out.”

That was the beginning of the relationship you thought was going to last a lifetime. For a while, it really seemed that way.

You and Jennie spent the first year of your relationship in absolute bliss. You were a lawyer and she was an idol, and being from different worlds meant you were both very busy, but you made it work. Not a day went by that you didn’t see Jennie, or at least heard her voice.

Just as the two of you began to talk about moving in together, your law firm offered you a job to start and lead the new branch in New York. After long discussions with Jennie that ended in promises to make the long distance work no matter what, you accepted the position and two weeks later were on a flight to the U.S.

If you would’ve known that would be the beginning of the end, you would’ve never stepped on the flight.

The second year of your relationship was the most tumultuous year of your life. Six months into your move, you could tell Jennie was starting to distance herself. You attributed it to her growing fame and the growing schedule that came with it. You were guilty of it too. With everything that went into starting this branch, you worked many late nights and long weeks and the time zones were much more difficult to sync up for a simple phone call than you had originally imagined it would be; trying to squeeze in ten minute conversations here and there throughout the day just so you could hear her voice on the other end of the line.

You two never even argued until just a few months ago. You had started something with her on a skype call after a few too many glasses of wine and a long stretch of loneliness, and after that night the argument seemed to never end. When she came to visit or you went to visit her, it seemed forced and anyone could see that you both were holding on to the miniscule threads remaining of your relationship.

To make matters worse, because of both of your busy schedules, your visits seemed to get shorter and shorter. What used to be an entire week together slowly morphed into a half of a week together that turned into only weekend visits maybe once a month. There wasn’t enough time to work on your problems even if you realized what they were before it was too late.

Now, here you are in your New York apartment. Another weekend visit gone awry, but you’re becoming increasingly frightened that this might actually be the end this time.

“If you leave now, you lose everything.” You croaked out, voice strangled from the effort of keeping the tears in. It seemed to be a lost cause as they suddenly overflowed down your cheeks and onto the floor.

“You lose us.” You continue when Jennie doesn’t respond. You were hoping that she was searching for the voice inside her that was telling her to stay just a little longer this time.

“Our friendship.” You keep pleading, your voice lowering to barely a whisper. You could hear your own pain seeping through the words.

“We said we’d still be friends if this didn’t work. What happened? What has changed?” This sounded more like a plea to yourself, but Jennie wasn’t sure, so she turned to face you.

It wasn’t a lie. When you started dating Jennie, she promised that even if you guys didn’t work out, that you would still remain close. She claimed you were just too special to not have in her life, either romantically or platonically. You had taken her word for it because you too felt Jennie as being someone too special to just cut out of your life. How things have changed.

She met your eyes and you could see the internal torment splayed out across her features. She was hurting too.

“Honestly?” Her voice softened, barely a whisper. “I had never thought that I would actually fall in love with you.” tears were now brimming her eyes as well. She remained standing by the door, bags in hand, eyes glossy and red.

You couldn’t hold it in any longer, collapsing onto the couch behind you and placing your head in your hands, hoping it would help muffle your sobs. You searched for a reasonable explanation for all of this. You guys could figure this out, right? All of the promises you made to each other had to be for something, right? You couldn’t accept that this is really how it was going to end.

“Why would you promise me-” is all you managed to get out, no longer able to complete a coherent thought in between sobs.

“I’ve never been in love like this before,” she said. Her voice was coming out stronger than before. “I didn’t know how to love another person until I met you. I barely even knew what it actually meant to ‘fall in love’. I can’t go back to being friends with you because nothing will ever be the same.” Tears were falling in tiny trails down her cheeks.

At those words, you quickly shot up from the couch and closed the gap. This time you were the hostile one. You ripped the bags from her hands and tossed them onto the couch behind you.

“Then tell me why we can’t make this work, Jennie. Tell me why you have to go. Tell me why you can’t just stay one more night and we can talk about this in the morning.”

Your pleas were sounding desperate, but you were running out of ways to get her to stay. At this point, you were just trying to slow the inevitable. You wanted to remember what it felt like to have her in your arms just one more night. You knew that as soon as she walked out the door, she’d be gone for good, and this time you wouldn’t have a date for when she’d come back.

You could feel your eyeliner melting off your face with your tears, but it was the least of your worries. You dug your index finger into her chest.

She quickly grabbed your arm and moved it down as she continued.

“I never see you. Even when we plan time to see each other it’s always a month after we last saw each other. An entire month.” She emphasized the last part, looking directly into your eyes, trying to get you to really understand. “My career-both of our careers are really just now starting to take off. If we keep this up we’ll only see each other once every six months.”

You looked down, realizing you were standing with Jennie’s hands in yours, and you watch as a single teardrop falls on them. Just like the day your relationship started, everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. You don’t even know who the tear came from at this point, not that it matters anyways. You looked back up with her with sad, pleading eyes.

She continued. “I can’t be friends with you because,” her voice pitched up as the tears became more frequent, “I can’t stand talking to you knowing that I still love you. Knowing that we had something, and now we don’t anymore and there’s nothing we can do about it. It won’t work.”

Her words shot through your veins like ice, and for a brief moment you closed your eyes, hoping that the stinging would go away, or that you would open your eyes again and all of this would be a dream. When you opened them and realized that this was very real, you didn’t have any words to say. Instead you moved your hands up to hold Jennie’s face. You stood like that for a moment before bringing your lips to hers. She returned the soft pressure, but nothing about this kiss felt right. Not after all the words you had just exchanged. Not after thousands of warm, passionate kisses you had shared in the past two years. It was forced, but it brought you some more time to process everything that was going on.

Jennie pulled away first. She used the sleeve of her sweater to wipe the tears from your face, and walked past you to retrieve her bags that had long been forgotten.

“Um, I’ll, uh, call you when I get home.” She said. Her voice was low. You stood paralyzed in place again. There was some metal clinking behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn towards the sound. She walked up to you, facing you, but you kept your gaze at the wall just over her shoulder. She took your hand to open up your palm, place something in it, and close your fingers over the hard metal. You didn’t even have to look to know what it was.

Jennie turned to leave, looking over her shoulder one last time before closing the door. Your gaze moved to the door as she closed it, and shortly after you opened your palm to see Jennie’s key to your apartment laying between your cold fingers.

You couldn’t remember how long you stood there before your limbs collapsed onto the hardwood floor. There was no strength in your body to pull you towards the couch that sat just a few feet away from you.

It was sometime in the middle of the night before you felt your eyelids flutter and sleep overtake you on the cold ground. Your phone laid on the ground near your head, waiting for her call. Maybe once you both had time to think about this you could figure it out.

Your brain rattled with ideas on how to make the relationship work, but you couldn’t tell if they were good or not in your current state, so you slept.

[path-of-my-childhood]

Taylor Swift Broke All Her Rules With Folklore - And Gave Herself A Much-Needed Escape

By: Alex Suskind for Entertainment Weekly Date: December 8th 2020 (EW's 2020 Entertainers of the Year cover)

The pop star, one of EW's 2020 Entertainers of the Year, delves deep into her surprise eighth album, Rebekah Harkness, and a Joe Biden presidency.

“He is my co-writer on ‛Betty’ and ‛Exile,’” replies Taylor Swift with deadpan precision. The question Who is William Bowery? was, at the time we spoke, one of 2020’s great mysteries, right up there with the existence of Joe Exotic and the sudden arrival of murder hornets. An unknown writer credited on the year’s biggest album? It must be an alias.

Is he your brother?

“He’s William Bowery,” says Swift with a smile.

It's early November, after Election Day but before Swift eventually revealed Bowery's true identity to the world (the leading theory, that he was boyfriend Joe Alwyn, proved prescient). But, like all Swiftian riddles, it was fun to puzzle over for months, particularly in this hot mess of a year, when brief distractions are as comforting as a well-worn cardigan. Thankfully, the Bowery... erhm, Alwyn-assisted Folklore - a Swift project filled with muted pianos and whisper-quiet snares, recorded in secret with Jack Antonoff and the National’s Aaron Dessner - delivered.

“The only people who knew were the people I was making it with, my boyfriend, my family, and a small management team,” Swift, 30, tells EW of the album's hush-hush recording sessions. That gave the intimate Folklore a mystique all its own: the first surprise Taylor Swift album, one that prioritized fantastical tales over personal confessions.

“Early in quarantine, I started watching lots of films,” she explains. “Consuming other people’s storytelling opened this portal in my imagination and made me feel like, Why have I never created characters and intersecting storylines?” That’s how she ended up with three songs about an imagined love triangle (“Cardigan,” “Betty,” “August”), one about a clandestine romance (“Illicit Affairs”), and another chronicling a doomed relationship (“Exile”). Others tell of sumptuous real-life figures like Rebekah Harkness, a divorcee who married the heir to Standard Oil - and whose home Swift purchased 31 years after her death. The result, “The Last Great American Dynasty,” hones in on Harkness’ story, until Swift cleverly injects herself.

And yet, it wouldn’t be a Swift album without a few barbed postmortems over her own history. Notably, “My Tears Ricochet” and “Mad Woman," which touch on her former label head Scott Borchetta selling the masters to Swift’s catalog to her known nemesis Scooter Braun. Mere hours after our interview, the lyrics’ real-life origins took a surprising twist, when news broke that Swift’s music had once again been sold, to another private equity firm, for a reported $300 million. Though Swift ignored repeated requests for comment on the transaction, she did tweet a statement, hitting back at Braun while noting that she had begun re-recording her old albums - something she first promised in 2019 as a way of retaining agency over her creative legacy. (Later, she would tease a snippet of that reimagined work, with a new version of her hit 2008 single "Love Story.")

Like surprise-dropping Folklore, like pissing off the president by endorsing his opponents, like shooing away haters, Swift does what suits her. “I don’t think we often hear about women who did whatever the hell they wanted,” she says of Harkness - something Swift is clearly intent on changing. For her, that means basking in the world of, and favorable response to, Folklore. As she says in our interview, “I have this weird thing where, in order to create the next thing, I attack the previous thing. I don’t love that I do that, but it is the thing that has kept me pivoting to another world every time I make an album. But with this one, I still love it.”

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: We’ve spent the year quarantined in our houses, trying to stay healthy and avoiding friends and family. Were you surprised by your ability to create and release a full album in the middle of a pandemic? TAYLOR SWIFT: I was. I wasn't expecting to make an album. Early on in quarantine, I started watching lots of films. We would watch a different movie every night. I'm ashamed to say I hadn't seen Pan's Labyrinth before. One night I'd watch that, then I'd watch L.A. Confidential, then we'd watch Rear Window, then we'd watch Jane Eyre. I feel like consuming other people's art and storytelling sort of opened this portal in my imagination and made me feel like, "Well, why have I never done this before? Why have I never created characters and intersecting storylines? And why haven't I ever sort of freed myself up to do that from a narrative standpoint?" There is something a little heavy about knowing when you put out an album, people are going to take it so literally that everything you say could be clickbait. It was really, really freeing to be able to just be inspired by worlds created by the films you watch or books you've read or places you've dreamed of or people that you've wondered about, not just being inspired by your own experience.

In that vein, what's it like to sit down and write something like “Betty,” which is told from the perspective of a 17-year-old boy? That was huge for me. And I think it came from the fact that my co-writer, William Bowery [Joe Alwyn], is male — and he was the one who originally thought of the chorus melody. And hearing him sing it, I thought, "That sounds really cool." Obviously, I don't have a male voice, but I thought, "I could have a male perspective." Patty Griffin wrote this song, “Top of the World.” It's one of my favorite songs of all time, and it's from the perspective of this older man who has lived a life full of regret, and he's kind of taking stock of that regret. So, I thought, "This is something that people I am a huge fan of have done. This would be fun to kind of take this for a spin."

What are your favorite William Bowery conspiracies? I love them all individually and equally. I love all the conspiracy theories around this album. [With] "Betty," Jack Antonoff would text me these articles and think pieces and in-depth Tumblr posts on what this love triangle meant to the person who had listened to it. And that's exactly what I was hoping would happen with this album. I wrote these stories for a specific reason and from a specific place about specific people that I imagined, but I wanted that to all change given who was listening to it. And I wanted it to start out as mine and become other people's. It's been really fun to watch.

One of the other unique things about Folklore — the parameters around it were completely different from anything you'd done. There was no long roll out, no stadium-sized pop anthems, no aiming for the radio-friendly single. How fearful were you in avoiding what had worked in the past? I didn't think about any of that for the very first time. And a lot of this album was kind of distilled down to the purest version of what the story is. Songwriting on this album is exactly the way that I would write if I considered nothing else other than, "What words do I want to write? What stories do I want to tell? What melodies do I want to sing? What production is essential to tell those stories?" It was a very do-it-yourself experience. My management team, we created absolutely everything in advance — every lyric video, every individual album package. And then we called our label a week in advance and said, "Here's what we have.” The photo shoot was me and the photographer walking out into a field. I'd done my hair and makeup and brought some nightgowns. These experiences I was used to having with 100 people on set, commanding alongside other people in a very committee fashion — all of a sudden it was me and a photographer, or me and my DP. It was a new challenge, because I love collaboration. But there's something really fun about knowing what you can do if it's just you doing it.

Did you find it freeing? I did. Every project involves different levels of collaboration, because on other albums there are things that my stylist will think of that I never would've thought of. But if I had all those people on the photo shoot, I would've had to have them quarantine away from their families for weeks on end, and I would've had to ask things of them that I didn't think were fair if I could figure out a way to do it [myself]. I had this idea for the [Folklore album cover] that it would be this girl sleepwalking through the forest in a nightgown in 1830 [laughs]. Very specific. A pioneer woman sleepwalking at night. I made a moodboard and sent it to Beth [Garrabrant], who I had never worked with before, who shoots only on film. We were just carrying bags across a field and putting the bags of film down, and then taking pictures. It was a blast.

Folklore includes plenty of intimate acoustic echoes to what you've done in the past. But there are also a lot of new sonics here, too — these quiet, powerful, intricately layered harmonics. What was it like to receive the music from Aaron and try to write lyrics on top of it? Well, Aaron is one of the most effortlessly prolific creators I've ever worked with. It's really mind-blowing. And every time I've spoken to an artist since this whole process [began], I said, "You need to work with him. It'll change the way you create." He would send me these — he calls them sketches, but it's basically an instrumental track. the second day — the day after I texted him and said, "Hey, would you ever want to work together?" — he sent me this file of probably 30 of these instrumentals and every single one of them was one of the most interesting, exciting things I had ever heard. Music can be beautiful, but it can be lacking that evocative nature. There was something about everything he created that is an immediate image in my head or melody that I came up with. So much so that I'd start writing as soon as I heard a new one. And oftentimes what I would send back would inspire him to make more instrumentals and then send me that one. And then I wrote the song and it started to shape the project, form-fitted and customized to what we wanted to do.

It was weird because I had never made an album and not played it for my girlfriends or told my friends. The only people who knew were the people that I was making it with, my boyfriend, my family, and then my management team. So that's the smallest number of people I've ever had know about something. I'm usually playing it for everyone that I'm friends with. So I had a lot of friends texting me things like, "Why didn't you say on our everyday FaceTimes you were making a record?"

Was it nice to be able to keep it a secret? Well, it felt like it was only my thing. It felt like such an inner world I was escaping to every day that it almost didn't feel like an album. Because I wasn't making a song and finishing it and going, "Oh my God, that is catchy.” I wasn't making these things with any purpose in mind. And so it was almost like having it just be mine was this really sweet, nice, pure part of the world as everything else in the world was burning and crashing and feeling this sickness and sadness. I almost didn't process it as an album. This was just my daydream space.

Does it still feel like that? Yeah, because I love it so much. I have this weird thing that I do when I create something where in order to create the next thing I kind of, in my head, attack the previous thing. I don't love that I do that but it is the thing that has kept me pivoting to another world every time I make an album. But with this one, I just still love it. I'm so proud of it. And so that feels very foreign to me. That doesn't feel like a normal experience that I've had with releasing albums.

When did you first learn about Rebekah Harkness? Oh, I learned about her as soon as I was being walked through [her former Rhode Island] home. I got the house when I was in my early twenties as a place for my family to congregate and be together. I was told about her, I think, by the real estate agent who was walking us through the property. And as soon as I found out about her, I wanted to know everything I could. So I started reading. I found her so interesting. And then as more parallels began to develop between our two lives — being the lady that lives in that house on the hill that everybody gets to gossip about — I was always looking for an opportunity to write about her. And I finally found it.

I love that you break the fourth wall in the song. Did you go in thinking you’d include yourself in the story? I think that in my head, I always wanted to do a country music, standard narrative device, which is: the first verse you sing about someone else, the second verse you sing about someone else who's even closer to you, and then in the third verse, you go, "Surprise! It was me.” You bring it personal for the last verse. And I'd always thought that if I were to tell that story, I would want to include the similarities — our lives or our reputations or our scandals.

How often did you regale friends about the history of Rebekah and Holiday House while hanging out at Holiday House? Anyone who's been there before knows that I do “The Tour,” in quotes, where I show everyone through the house. And I tell them different anecdotes about each room, because I've done that much research on this house and this woman. So in every single room, there's a different anecdote about Rebekah Harkness. If you have a mixed group of people who've been there before and people who haven't, [the people who’ve been there] are like, "Oh, she's going to do the tour. She's got to tell you the story about how the ballerinas used to practice on the lawn.” And they'll go get a drink and skip it because it's the same every time. But for me, I'm telling the story with the same electric enthusiasm, because it's just endlessly entertaining to me that this fabulous woman lived there. She just did whatever she wanted.

There are a handful of songs on Folklore that feel like pretty clear nods to your personal life over the last year, including your relationships with Scott Borchetta and Scooter Braun. How long did it take to crystallize the feelings you had around both of them into “My Tears Ricochet” or “Mad Woman”? I found myself being very triggered by any stories, movies, or narratives revolving around divorce, which felt weird because I haven't experienced it directly. There’s no reason it should cause me so much pain, but all of a sudden it felt like something I had been through. I think that happens any time you've been in a 15-year relationship and it ends in a messy, upsetting way. So I wrote “My Tears Ricochet” and I was using a lot of imagery that I had conjured up while comparing a relationship ending to when people end an actual marriage. All of a sudden this person that you trusted more than anyone in the world is the person that can hurt you the worst. Then all of a sudden the things that you have been through together, hurt. All of a sudden, the person who was your best friend is now your biggest nemesis, etc. etc. etc. I think I wrote some of the first lyrics to that song after watching Marriage Story and hearing about when marriages go wrong and end in such a catastrophic way. So these songs are in some ways imaginary, in some ways not, and in some ways both.

How did it feel to drop an F-bomb on "Mad Woman"? F---ing fantastic.

And that’s the first time you ever recorded one on a record, right? Yeah. Every rule book was thrown out. I always had these rules in my head and one of them was, You haven't done this before, so you can't ever do this. “Well, you've never had an explicit sticker, so you can't ever have an explicit sticker.” But that was one of the times where I felt like you need to follow the language and you need to follow the storyline. And if the storyline and the language match up and you end up saying the F-word, just go for it. I wasn't adhering to any of the guidelines that I had placed on myself. I decided to just make what I wanted to make. And I'm really happy that the fans were stoked about that because I think they could feel that. I'm not blaming anyone else for me restricting myself in the past. That was all, I guess, making what I want to make. I think my fans could feel that I opened the gate and ran out of the pasture for the first time, which I'm glad they picked up on because they're very intuitive.

Let’s talk about “Epiphany.” The first verse is a nod to your grandfather, Dean, who fought in World War II. What does his story mean to you personally? I wanted to write about him for awhile. He died when I was very young, but my dad would always tell this story that the only thing that his dad would ever say about the war was when somebody would ask him, "Why do you have such a positive outlook on life?" My grandfather would reply, "Well, I'm not supposed to be here. I shouldn't be here." My dad and his brothers always kind of imagined that what he had experienced was really awful and traumatic and that he'd seen a lot of terrible things. So when they did research, they learned that he had fought at the Battles of Guadalcanal, at Cape Gloucester, at Talasea, at Okinawa. He had seen a lot of heavy fire and casualties — all of the things that nightmares are made of. He was one of the first people to sign up for the war. But you know, these are things that you can only imagine that a lot of people in that generation didn't speak about because, a) they didn't want people that they came home to to worry about them, and b) it just was so bad that it was the actual definition of unspeakable.

That theme continues in the next verse, which is a pretty overt nod to what’s been happening during COVID. As someone who lives in Nashville, how difficult has it been to see folks on Lower Broadway crowding the bars without masks? I mean, you just immediately think of the health workers who are putting their lives on the line — and oftentimes losing their lives. If they make it out of this, if they see the other side of it, there's going to be a lot of trauma that comes with that; there's going to be things that they witnessed that they will never be able to un-see. And that was the connection that I drew. I did a lot of research on my grandfather in the beginning of quarantine, and it hit me very quickly that we've got a version of that trauma happening right now in our hospitals. God, you hope people would respect it and would understand that going out for a night isn't worth the ripple effect that it causes. But obviously we're seeing that a lot of people don't seem to have their eyes open to that — or if they do, a lot of people don't care, which is upsetting.

You had the Lover Fest East and West scheduled this year. How hard has it been to both not perform for your fans this year, and see the music industry at large go through such a brutal change? It's confusing. It's hard to watch. I think that maybe me wanting to make as much music as possible during this time was a way for me to feel like I could reach out my hand and touch my fans, even if I couldn't physically reach out or take a picture with them. We've had a lot of different, amazing, fun, sort of underground traditions we've built over the years that involve a lot of human interaction, and so I have no idea what's going to happen with touring; none of us do. And that's a scary thing. You can't look to somebody in the music industry who's been around a long time, or an expert touring manager or promoter and [ask] what's going to happen and have them give you an answer. I think we're all just trying to keep our eyes on the horizon and see what it looks like. So we're just kind of sitting tight and trying to take care of whatever creative spark might exist and trying to figure out how to reach our fans in other ways, because we just can't do that right now.

When you are able to perform again, do you have plans on resurfacing a Lover Fest-type event? I don't know what incarnation it'll take and I really would need to sit down and think about it for a good solid couple of months before I figured out the answer. Because whatever we do, I want it to be something that is thoughtful and will make the fans happy and I hope I can achieve that. I'm going to try really hard to.

In addition to recording an album, you spent this year supporting Joe Biden and Kamala Harris in the election. Where were you when it was called in their favor? Well, when the results were coming in, I was actually at the property where we shot the Entertainment Weekly cover. I was hanging out with my photographer friend, Beth, and the wonderful couple that owned the farm where we [were]. And we realized really early into the night that we weren't going to get an accurate picture of the results. Then, a couple of days later, I was on a video shoot, but I was directing, and I was standing there with my face shield and mask on next to my director of photography, Rodrigo Prieto. And I just remember a news alert coming up on my phone that said, "Biden is our next president. He's won the election." And I showed it to Rodrigo and he said, "I'm always going to remember the moment that we learned this." And I looked around, and people's face shields were starting to fog up because a lot of people were really misty-eyed and emotional, and it was not loud. It wasn't popping bottles of champagne. It was this moment of quiet, cautious elation and relief.

Do you ever think about what Folklore would have sounded like if you, Aaron, and Jack had been in the same room? I think about it all the time. I think that a lot of what has happened with the album has to do with us all being in a collective emotional place. Obviously everybody's lives have different complexities and whatnot, but I think most of us were feeling really shaken up and really out of place and confused and in need of something comforting all at the same time. And for me, that thing that was comforting was making music that felt sort of like I was trying to hug my fans through the speakers. That was truly my intent. Just trying to hug them when I can't hug them.

I wanted to talk about some of the lyrics on Folklore. One of my favorite pieces of wordplay is in “August”: that flip of "sipped away like a bottle of wine/slipped away like a moment in time.” Was there an "aha moment" for you while writing that? I was really excited about "August slipped away into a moment of time/August sipped away like a bottle of wine." That was a song where Jack sent me the instrumental and I wrote the song pretty much on the spot; it just was an intuitive thing. And that was actually the first song that I wrote of the "Betty" triangle. So the Betty songs are "August," "Cardigan," and "Betty." "August" was actually the first one, which is strange because it's the song from the other girl's perspective.

Yeah, I assumed you wrote "Cardigan" first. It would be safe to assume that "Cardigan" would be first, but it wasn't. It was very strange how it happened, but it kind of pieced together one song at a time, starting with "August," where I kind of wanted to explore the element of This is from the perspective of a girl who was having her first brush with love. And then all of a sudden she's treated like she's the other girl, because there was another situation that had already been in place, but "August" girl thought she was really falling in love. It kind of explores the idea of the undefined relationship. As humans, we're all encouraged to just be cool and just let it happen, and don't ask what the relationship is — Are we exclusive? But if you are chill about it, especially when you're young, you learn the very hard lesson that if you don't define something, oftentimes they can gaslight you into thinking it was nothing at all, and that it never happened. And how do you mourn the loss of something once it ends, if you're being made to believe that it never happened at all?

On the flip side, "Peace" is bit more defined in terms of how one approaches a relationship. There's this really striking line, "The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me/Would it be enough if I can never give you peace?" How did that line come to you? I'm really proud of that one too. I heard the track immediately. Aaron sent it to me, and it had this immediate sense of serenity running through it. The first word that popped into my head was peace, but I thought that it would be too on-the-nose to sing about being calm, or to sing about serenity, or to sing about finding peace with someone. Because you have this very conflicted, very dramatic conflict-written lyric paired with this very, very calming sound of the instrumental. But, "The devil's in the details," is one of those phrases that I've written down over the years. That's a common phrase that is used in the English language every day. And I just thought it sounded really cool because of the D, D sound. And I thought, "I'll hang onto those in a list, and then, I'll finally find the right place for them in a story." I think that's how a lot of people feel where it's like, "Yeah, the devil's in the details. Everybody's complex when you look under the hood of the car." But basically saying, "I'm there for you if you want that, if this complexity is what you want."

There's another clever turn of phrase on "This is Me Trying." "I didn't know if you'd care if I came back/I have a lot of regrets about that." That feels like a nod toward your fans, and some of the feelings you had about retreating from the public sphere. Absolutely. I think I was writing from three different characters' perspectives, one who's going through that; I was channeling the emotions I was feeling in 2016, 2017, where I just felt like I was worth absolutely nothing. And then, the second verse is about dealing with addiction and issues with struggling every day. And every second of the day, you're trying not to fall into old patterns, and nobody around you can see that, and no one gives you credit for it. And then, the third verse, I was thinking, what would the National do? What lyric would Matt Berninger write? What chords would the National play? And it's funny because I've since played this song for Aaron, and he's like, "That's not what we would've done at all." He's like, "I love that song, but that's totally different than what we would've done with it."

When we last spoke, in April 2019, we were talking about albums we were listening to at the time and you professed your love for the National and I Am Easy to Find. Two months later, you met up with Aaron at their concert, and now, we're here talking about the National again. Yeah, I was at the show where they were playing through I Am Easy to Find. What I loved about [that album] was they had female vocalists singing from female perspectives, and that triggered and fired something in me where I thought, "I've got to play with different perspectives because that is so intriguing when you hear a female perspective come in from a band where you're used to only hearing a male perspective." It just sparked something in me. And obviously, you mentioning the National is the reason why Folklore came to be. So, thank you for that, Alex.

I'm here for all of your songwriting muse needs in the future. I can't wait to see what comes out of this interview.

*** For more on our Entertainers of the Year and Best & Worst of 2020, order the January issue of Entertainment Weekly or find it on newsstands beginning Dec. 18. (You can also pick up the full set of six covers here.) Don’t forget to subscribe for more exclusive interviews and photos, only in EW.

[severetimetravelnerd]

I Don’t Know(ft. G Dragon and MINO) (2)

Part 2

Minho learns a bit about you and Jiyong, but you learn something even more surprising.

This series will be updated once a week, every Friday! No specific time though lol. It’s an AUish thing where Jiyong has a younger sister and you’re her best friend! Featuring my OC Mirae as the Best friend. Just saying, it’s not related to any of the scenarios I’ve written so far. Please do leave me some comments or asks! I love receiving them! It’s also a bit of a love triangle situation, so yeah :)) There will be eventual smut in this series.

(I don’t own any of the images used. All credit goes to the original owners.)

I only write on this blog on tumblr, so if you see my work on any other platform, please let me know immediately.

Taglist:

@kwonnansi

@unabashedturkeytreeslime​

@happiestgirlontheeastcoast​

@yee-hawwwwwwww​

@slayergroupie0128​

Please comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list:))

Word Count: 1951

WARNINGS: Mentions of cheating, cursing, just general being mean.

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Jiyong had no idea why, but the sight of you always annoyed him. The way you smiled without a care in the world. He never did like you. He never tried to think about why either, because he knew the moment he tried to analyse it, it would all fall to bits. And no matter how curt or rude he was to you, you were always nice to him. He used to try and ignore you, because you were just his little sister’s friend. Why should he care? Why should he pay attention to you? But it was impossible. If you were around, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He couldn’t stop watching you from the corner of his eye. And he fucking hated it. Which is why he went out of his way to try and talk to you as little as possible. He didn’t want to have to talk to someone he hated. Which is why things sucked when he had to pick both you and Mirae up weekly after drinks. He owed Mirae a favour and that is how she cashed it in. Both of you were going through a rough time and you guys needed that little destressing weekly. And Mirae usually passed out from drinking (she was both a lightweight and a sleepy drunk), which is why he had started talking to you. And once he started talking to you, he had even fewer reasons to hate you the way he did, because he liked talking to you. He really did. Which is why that night, when you called him, drunk, at 2 am, asking him to come to a diner, his first instinct was to worry. And he didn’t like that. He drove there as soon as he could, and found you waving happily at him from a booth. He felt so relieved, but so angry at the same time. Why was he so fucking relived that you were okay? He slid down in the seat across from you, just about to ask you what the fuck was wrong with you when you said,

“Jiyong, I like you.”

His heart jumped out of his chest when he heard that. He had no idea what to say. He hated you. How could you possibly like him? More importantly, how could he possibly like you? He didn’t. But if he didn’t, why was his heart pounding the way it was? No. He definitely did not like you. His heart had to be pounding because of the surprise, or the distaste. He looked at you again. He was about to say that he hated you, but looking at your expression, he couldn’t and switched to telling you that you were confused last minute. His heart started pounding even more when he heard that you had liked him for years. It must have been the disgust. He said whatever he had to quickly and left, not wanting to see your crestfallen expression anymore. He left as quickly as he could, just wanting to be away from there, not realising that he had left you, a drunk girl, alone at a diner at 2 in the morning. It only struck him later. Which is why he sent you that text. He was sure you’d respond. He had been mean to you so many times and you had never minded. He knew it wasn’t okay, but he was sure you were going to be the same. In fact, he was sure that you would continue to like him. He was certain that nothing would change, no matter what he said, because it had never changed before and you were always the same around him. He didn’t realise how hurt you were this time round though. He didn’t realise how serious you were about liking him. He didn’t realise how hurtful he was being.

After sending that text, he stared at his phone for two hours straight, hoping, praying to god that you would reply. If something happened to you after he left you there alone, he would never forgive himself. Which is why, when he didn’t get a response after two hours, the worry got to him, and at 4:37 am, he jumped out of bed and drove back to the diner, to see whether you were there. You weren’t. He walked over to the table where you were sitting, just to double check. You weren’t there, but a crumpled-up piece of paper was. He opened it up. It was soggy, presumably from your tears. He didn’t know why that made his gut twist a little. The writing was a little blurred, but he could read what you’d written. It was practice for what to say to him when he showed up. He crumpled it again. And as he took out his phone to call you and see if you were okay, although he had no idea why, he found himself folding that piece of paper and putting it in his wallet. He told himself then that it was only so that he doesn’t litter and he would throw it in the trash once he got home, but three years later, the paper was smudged with greasy fingerprints, from all the times he would take it out and stare at it while he was drunk, and was still very much in his wallet.

*** 

You stared at Jiyong as you moved closer to Minho, grateful for his presence. It was like Jiyong never even heard the question, because he couldn’t stop staring at you in shock. Mino’s grip on your waist tightened. He could see that you weren’t happy. Tone a little harsher, he tried again.

“Hyung. How do you know Y/N?”

Jiyong’s head was spinning. What had happened? What happened to you? Why had you changed so much? How were you here? Why did Mino have his arm around you? Why was the girl who would always turn and grab his sleeve during horror movies holding on to someone else?

One look at him and you could tell he wasn’t doing okay. You knew he wasn’t going to be able to answer Minho’s questions.  Seeing Minho’s jaw clenched, you tried to defuse the situation. Putting on a smile you knew was fake, and you knew Minho could tell was fake, you said,

“Minho, you know Mirae, right? He’s Mirae’s brother. We’ve known each other for ages, but we hadn’t seen each other in a while, so he must have been surprised to see me here.”

Jiyong’s head was still reeling. He wondered whether Mino knew that your smile was fake. Or that you hated horror movies. Or that you had a fear of swimming pools from almost drowning when you were seven. He could feel his lips curling in disgust. Mino knew nothing about you. But before he could think about why that mattered, Mino spoke. Sounding uncharacteristically emotionless, he said,

“Oh okay. That’s great hyung! I had no idea. Well, if you’d excuse us, we have some things to take care of.”

 Mino’s heart lurched when he heard that. great. Not again. His ex-girlfriend cheated on him with Jiyong hyung. She confessed the next day and she promised that Jiyong had no idea who she was, because they’d never met or been introduced, and he didn’t even know her name. Mino could only ask, laughing through the tears,

“You were okay with sleeping with a drunk Jiyong hyung who didn’t even know your name? Were you that unhappy with me?”

Her eyes widened and she tried to lie, saying that it wasn’t him, it was her and that none of it was a reflection on Mino, but Mino couldn’t hear any of that. He just heard that he wasn’t enough. That he wasn’t satisfactory. All his love meant nothing. He didn’t date anyone for two years after that. He couldn’t. But when he saw you, with your bright smile and carefree happiness, you drew him in. And now, he was scared this was all just going to repeat itself.

The rest of the night, you could tell something was off with Mino. None of his smiles reached his eyes. His adorable excitement was gone. He stopped touching you. And you were worried sick. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but you hated that he was feeling sad. You wanted to hold him, reassure him, tell him everything, but he wouldn’t even look at you.

You thought Jiyong would leave the party immediately. You were wrong. He stayed out on the balcony, still unable to believe anything he just witnessed. All he knew was that he had to talk to you. He waited until guests were slowly starting to leave. You were at the door, seeing them off while Mino was on the couch, talking to some of his friends. Jiyong walked over to you, moving as close as he possibly could and talking in a low, hushed tone, he said,

“Y/N, what are you doing? Why would you date Mino? He’s not the right guy for you. You won’t be happy with him.”

If you had heard him, you would’ve gotten mad. You would have fought back, asking him what he knew about your happiness. But you didn’t. You just murmured a half-hearted goodbye and continued staring at Minho, worried sick about why he was upset. Jiyong looked back at Mino, fists clenched. He had never felt so much anger towards him, and he still didn’t know why he was angry. He looked back at your worried face, and he knew you weren’t going to listen to him, and so he left, furious, without even knowing why.

After everyone left, you finally got a chance to talk to Minho alone. He was still sitting on the couch, head in his hands. You walked over and sat down next to him, putting your hand on his back.

“Minho, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

He looked back at you with haunted eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew Jiyong hyung Y/N?”

“I didn’t know you knew him either, otherwise I’d have told you about it when you met Mirae.”

“Y/N, is there something I don’t know about you and Jiyong hyung?”

You could see Minho spiralling as he asked you that. You softly decided to ask him another question.

“Minho, is there something I don’t know about you and Jiyong?”

He turned away, eyes red. You waited. You knew he would talk to you. He just needed a little time. And sure enough, he did. Voice hoarse, he began.

“My ex cheated on me with Jiyong hyung.”

You couldn’t control the gasp that left your mouth.

“He didn’t know who she was. He had never met her. He didn’t even know her name. He was drunk out of his mind that night, and never bothered to learn her name, but she still wanted to sleep with him. She was sober. She never drinks. Even at his worst, she wanted him more than she wanted me.”

Your heart broke for Minho. Your poor boyfriend. He didn’t deserve that. And he was so shaken. But you did owe it to Minho to tell him about how you used to like Jiyong. You were just scared it would hurt him more. You gently peeled his hands away from his head and pulled his head to your chest.  Minho stiffened at first, but then he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist and held you tighter. His body began to shake with sobs. He needed to let it all out. And you let him. You just held him close, gently massaging his head, telling him to let it all out. You could tell him after that.

----------------

[smndragon]

Hello, I know I haven’t been following your account for too long but you’re one of my fave accounts. You really put a lot of effort and offer your resources/knowledge/time without hesitation which I feel often times other creators don’t really have the opportunity to do. Thank you for your dedication because I’ve found your posts really insightful and they’ve been really helpful in expanding my knowledge <3

I also wanted to ask if you were offering readings atm because I was really interested in receiving one from you! If not, it’s okay! <33

[ Big Six :

Sagittarius ↑, Scorpio ☀︎, Leo ☽

Virgo Venus , Capricorn Mars, Sagittarius Mercury ]

I hope you’ve been doing well and I hope both sides of your pillow is cold !!! <3

Also, Idk if you watch anime but if you could recommend one one of your faves I’d really appreciate it! :,))

If you don’t mind me asking, I was wondering how many years you’ve been studying Astro considering the amount of knowledge you have. I’ve been dabbling myself but I find it intimidating. ESP when it comes to the complexity of birth charts because of all the different variables you need to consider.

Thank you for taking your time to read my ask! I really appreciate your consideration!! <3

You had me over here looking up "what does atm mean in text" like a grandma on Google 😭😭 I really couldn't figure that out I thought of the money atm. Thank you for saying all this though! I do try to take time even if my fingers have to hurt for it. I'm glad you're learning a bit from them or opening your mind to it! Glad to be one of your favs!

An anime recommendation is probably sword art online. It's a basic but I really like it I've watched all the seasons at least 5 or 4 times. Either that or possibly is it wrong to pick up girls in a dungeon I think it was called. I haven't watched anime in a while to be honest. Learning wise and growth I believe movies like Mirai and flavours of youth on Netflix are very sentimental and leave you touched.

I've been studying only since early 2021 really maybe mid? I started by Tumblr actually, I got the app because I wanted to read more fanfic sites and explore more and I got into more astrology here. I already was interested before then for years but I never actually looked so far into it until then. I actually only learned by readings posts every day I would look up "astro observations" and just read for as long as I could. I took a few people's charts that are long dead by now to compare and analyze since I liked them so much. I learned everything here and still am. I actually recently got back into the astrology side, I took a break to read more into other things. The rest I get are based on feelings and easy searching, I'm sorry I can't really explain it too well. Most of the stuff I learned was from @d4rkpluto @saintzjenx @hillarysss and @ilyneptune I believe is somewhere there either that or it was for pile readings which they have really good ones!

It's like 5:36 in the morning I haven't slept at all but I feel great so let's do your reading! Hm, Scorpio sun, Leo moon, and Sagittarius ascendant. We have the same ascendant which makes me happy! I didn't save so a part got deleted but I saw a girl with lilies on her head immediately, like a sort of crown. It reminded me of Hans Christian Andersen because he once made a flower crown and placed it on someone's hat making them mad after finally finding it💀 this girl reminds me of a time that seems so long ago now. She smiles at nothing and laughs at air, as if she sees things no else had dared speak to. Children are walkways wonderful because they have these gifts, to see things we cant. Possibly 'imaginary' friend when you were younger, or you spent time just pleasing yourself easily.

The first sign that talks to me is the Leo moon, the Scorpio wanted to speak but the Leo was very loud. It feels so touch starved to me which ain't bad but lord both it and the Scorpio sun are. Possible manifestation abilities. They aren't strong but you're able to do it anyone is, whatever you want in life must be looked brightly at, it's okay to have dark days but return that dream and wanting image to your sun and it will become as close as true as out world allows it. The flower crown I saw makes me think there's an Innocence and purity in you that still stand today, never changing. The flowers are the manifestation of this Innocence and this need to be that ways somewhere in you. Possibly fear of expectation and somehow losing that part of you to something in the future. You shouldn't be afraid of what happens, things will change sadly, we can never change that and as people we have to accept it even if it gets dark. Unless this will deeply harm you it's time to let go. Tell that younger you or someone that they cna be free, to be a with all the friends they were with when they were younger. Ik that wasn't a full reading but that's what I got from either your Leo or Scorpio. The Leo wants your joy to be brought back, but not in the form of the fear of losing something. "I'm here" "it's okay" they held you at your darkest moments and will continue to do so. I feel they'll be there especially when you're older, telling you it's alright to let go of the life you once had. (Dark theme sorry but it is what happens to us all in the end) their home is in you, every part I see, the physical body comes out when you need her, a dirty blonde with a white plain shoulder and neck showing shirt, with a plain but modern skirt thin material. They have brown eyes, the eyes of a mother really, with a broad and flattens at the nose. A few dots on the sides of their eyes or face. Aura color is a wheat yellow.

The Scorpio sun is very wanting, jealous of being ignored at times. It wants some things so wholly it hurts. The domain of the Scorpio is a dark and warm place, sweat falls down my forehead as if I'm being boiled to a roast. I want to hold the Scorpio sun, it feels ignored by people. Scorpios are every sympathetic people deep down, they crave affection and reassurance, when not given they cna form unhealthy habits. Not to say you're suffering from this too harshly it's just your Scorpio needs to be cared for at some point, drink a cup of tea or something soothing, talk to your Scorpio and let it talk back, in the deepest parts of your mind they are there always and forever, waiting to recover with your strength and company. Aura is brown and radiant black splotches here and there. Possible placements are the neck, or left shoulder. Body is in the form of a bulked Scorpion, brown shelled. You may possibly have longer nails or well shaped ones. Been complimented on your hands or had them called small which was annoying maybe.

The last of the signs is the Sagittarius ascendant. It take the form of a human, has a long tail though, reptile like. It adores the space you allow it. It roams the chest area, pillows and blankets cover the room. The Sagittarius isn't lazy, it's just overworked they don important things for the body, they care for your muscles and heart. Making sure it has steady beats. They keep you as active as you could be. Enough to keep you healthy. The room is plain with white walls and tan yellow carpet. The Sagittarius takes chalk and writes on the walls "plans" "action" weird words to put down but they keep writing, I also them what they're doing but don't really get a reply. Nothing left here.

Characteristics: small hands well shaped nails, brown hair?, Style is kind of alt if or neutral. Hoodies, jeans, skirts occasionally, the not too extreme chokers, bracelets, slight makeup or none. Because of the Sagittarius I would like to say tall and slim, but I have that and I sure am not those💀 possibly could still work though. I think short though honestly. Sneakers. Binders and folders in school or home. Filled with ideas and things. Brown or green eyes.

Soulmate/ future relationship: (it in one now ignore or keep reading) I see you both planning stories and all kind soft things, laying down pointing to journals and books of your things. You guys don't laugh often but you do show affection in smiles, kisses, hugs, and closeness. I feel they won't fully kiss you until you age to grab their face or after the 11th date🙃

Possible zodiac influence in your life around you: Scorpio Mars, Gemini Venus, Libra

Future/health: nothing much here possible accidents involving phones be careful and lay attention, may crack or break it soon.

[roscoeobrien]

No Control With You | Stiles Stilinski

Author: @roscoeobrien

Pairing: stiles stilinski x fem!reader

Summary: in which stiles stilinski’s girlfriend receives the bite after a terrible turn of events and begins to ignore him. when confronting her about it, he soon learns the truth and the reason why.

Warning: light swearing, hinting of smut- but nothing actually happens and i guess the mention of mates/mating along with angst and fluff near the end? idk? i’m bad at this.

Prompt: “I read that when you cuddle a pillow you’re missing human affection, so maybe you can cuddle me?”

A/N: this is for @stiles-o-dylan24 and her writing challenge for hitting 1k! if you’re reading this, i hope you like it and know you’re very talented and your writings is one of the first things i ever read on tumblr. you really helped inspire me to be brave and write my own stuff in the first place and i’m so sorry you even have to read this bad imagine because you deserve better. i have also read over this a few times but there may still be mistakes so i am so sorry for that in return xx

Words: 6933 ( i don’t have anything to say other than i am so, terribly, sorry )

Stiles’ leg bounced anxiously as he waited for Scott to walk out of the dreaded hospital room he had been in for what seemed now like an eternity, his clammy hands clasped in front of his mouth. His cheeks glistened from the salty tears still falling from his bloodshot eyes, the only sound he made being the quivering of his sharp/shaky breaths and the sniffles his nose forced out.

It had only been an hour or so since he had been holding your body- your bloody body- close to his chest, hearing his frantic heartbeat even with your human hearing thudding rapidly with panic against your ear as the pack made a break for the hospital to hand you in Melissa’s care. Your wound was black when you had arrived with little time left so it seemed, your voice weakly fading out into nothingness as you cried out his name, the sound causing Stiles a deep, mental pain.

How could I have let this happen? Was the question the teenage boy kept asking himself over and over again like a broken record, his brown eyes casting to the hall he hoped Scott would come running down any second now. This whole situation felt like a dream- more like a nightmare- that he desperately wanted to wake up from.

Many of his friends tried to comfort him, offering him their gentle touch and consoling words. It all fell at death ears, however, for they weren’t what he needed most in that moment. In that moment, all he needed was her and to know she was okay.

“Stiles,” Scott jogging down the hospital hallway to the awaiting pack brought everyone out of their own wandering minds with all the tragic outcomes which were close to becoming a reality so it seemed, specifically eyeing his best friend as his steps faltered.

The boy called was up on his feet in an instant, his hands feeling sweaty as he begged with his crystalised, honey-brown eyes. Please be alright. He prayed, feeling the tears swell in his eyes once more.

“She’s awake. It worked . . . the bite worked.” Scott released in the tense air, staring at his friend with his dark eyes holding the expression of stunned amazement as the rest of the pack released noises of what could only be described as relief. “Her eyes . . . they’re red. She-She’s an alpha, Stiles”

That statement should’ve stunned the boy, cueing his mouth to spill with an endless interrogation of how and why . . . but it did not. In fact, Stiles Stilinski remained stone cold.

His heart was thudding loudly in his chest, pounding his ears as he felt small breathes escape his dry pink lips. His mind felt like it was going one hundred miles around him as it focused on the fact that she was awake. Her body had accepted the bite. She was breathing, she was healthy . . . he could hold her in his arms again.

She was going to be okay.

“(Y/N)!” Scott’s foot nudging yours under the lunch table you and your friends were currently sat at in the school cafeteria gained your attention, snapping you out of your daydream to the present. Your firey gaze met his, the boy shooting you a wide-eyed look. “Your eyes are shifting! Calm down.”

“Yeah, you’re hurting your sandwich.” Malia chipped in with her usual deadpan expression, pointing to the now crushed sandwich suffering the consequences of your mighty grip.

With a weak growl, you closed your eyes and shook your head in hopes it would make your red alpha eyes go away. Thankfully, it worked and no one saw anything except your group of supernatural associates . . . but that didn’t make your anger dissolve in the slightest.

“Who does she think she is?” You snarled bitterly, glaring at a blonde-haired girl you shared a few classes with across the cafeteria. You hoped your stare alone would make her combust! Sadly, it did not. “She isn’t fooling anyone with that short skirt and bold makeup.”

Lydia took one stab at her salad as she rolled her eyes and released a scoff. “You’re just saying that because she’s talking to Stiles.”

Your werewolf hearing allowed you to hear the mentioned boy’s melodic laugh, the sound washing over you like a sweet heat wave as you bit your lip. This was beginning to get unbearable.

“You know, he’s been really worried about you.” Scott informed, shooting you a sad look which you adverted your eyes too. You already knew what he was going to say. “All he wants is to talk to you, (Y/N).”

“You don’t understand, Scott.” You grumbled under your breath, watching the hazel-eyed boy adoringly across the room. You admired his side profile and the way his cupid-shaped lips curled up in a polite smile. He was so enchanting, even from the beginning of your relationship . . . but now he was becoming irresistible to you. “Things are different now.”

“Oh come on, Stiles.” Your ears ringed with the head aching voice of the blonde as she advanced towards the Stilinski boy, her hand reaching out to caress his forearm lightly. She let out a little giggle. “Just one date. You won’t regret it.”

“That’s very sweet, Heather, but I-”

“He’s busy.” Stiles’ eyes lit up at the sound of your sudden voice, a small smile coming into place when he turned round to see you standing now right beside him. He took notice of your serious state, your arms crossed over your chest defensively with a glare.

“Oh, well,” the girl, Heather, gave you a short glance of snide before her attention was set back on Stiles. She let out a short, flirtatious giggle once more in a second attempt as she played with her hair. “maybe some other time then. I’d love to see you around sometime, Stiles.”

The teen opened his mouth to politely answer back, only to be cut off by your scoff. “Yeah, I don’t think you will.” You rolled your (Y/E/C) eyes at the girl, a bored look taking place.

When Heather scoffed and strutted away from the pair of you, Stiles turned to give you a friendly smile . . . only to see you now walking away from him quickly. The Stilinski boy jogged up to you as fast as he could, his hand gently finding its way into yours. “Hey,” his soft voice and touch made you whirl round in alert, feeling your body react. “It feels like forever since we’ve last spoken. I’ve missed you.”

“Well . . . umm.” You were quick to draw your hand away, biting your lip as you felt it rise. In an attempt to hide it from the boy, you scratched the back of your neck as a distraction. “I’ve been busy.” Lie.

“Well, when do you think you’re gonna be free next?” Stiles sweetly asked, tilting his head as he reached forwards to tuck a strand of stray hair back behind your ear. “I was wondering when we can have another one of our movie binging date nights.”

A lump grew thick in your throat, all instincts inside you screaming to be let out . . . but you had to hold back. You couldn’t do that to Stiles. You had to get away.

“I don’t know, Stiles.” You instantly felt a guilt claw at your stomach with the way the mentioned boy’s face fell. Her mind mentally shamed her, but she stuck to her gut. She had to remind herself again why she was doing all of this, why she couldn’t give in . . . no matter how much she wanted to. “It’s kinda complicated at the moment.”

“Oh,” Stiles’ eyebrows raised in question, his face edging closer to yours. You leaned back slightly, hoping that it would help keep yourself at bay. It didn’t, leaving you to suffer as Stiles innocently tilted his head. This boy. “Anything I can help with?”

You began to immediately feel warmth, releasing a deep breath you didn’t even realise you were holding until you stepped away from him some more with a shake of the head. “N-No. Nothing.” You denied, your breathing now hollow, feeling the sweat beginning to build up on your face.

“(Y/N),” Stiles noticed the weird behaviour setting in, taking a few steps closer until his hand gently came to rest on your forearm. Little did he know, he was making the problem way worse. “are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You gritted your teeth as your eyes closed, fearing what may soon appear beneath your eyelids. The temperature only seemed to rise within you when a familiar hand was delicately set on your forehead, your eyes widening as a rugged sound weakly escaped you.

“Babe, you’re burning up!” The amber-toned eyes of your boyfriend’s went wide with a sudden surprise, unable to hear the curses you let out under your breath at the realisation as his concern wafted through your nostrils.

A low growl tore through your throat as a sudden need surged through you, causing your arm to throw itself forwards before you could even stop to think. With your fingers now gripping onto the fabric of his plaid shirt, Stiles was suddenly brought closer to you until your noses bumped.

The deep breaths emitting from your lips made Stiles rendered speechless, unable to take his gaze off of your eyes. There was something different about them- and he wasn’t even talking about your wolf eyes which were yet to make an appearance. Something was hidden behind your (Y/E/C) irises, something that made your eyeballs darken as the teen found himself getting almost entranced in them.

“(Y/N)!” Scott was suddenly by your side, practically ripping you away from his best friend. You fought the grasp at first, everything around you sounding muffled as the Filipino muttered a short excuse/apology to the boy before he dragged you further away from the only thing your brain could focus on: Stiles Stilinski.

The thoughts raging through your mind only faltered when your alpha friend had placed you into the closest room; which happened to be a classroom, thankfully, not in use.

Once released, you grasped desperately at the wooden desk to support yourself in the act of getting back into focus. How could you have made such a fool of yourself, (Y/N)? You scolded, gritting your teeth as a growl was set free.

Scott, who had been watching you with careful eyes, turned his gaze sorrowful as he sighed and approached when you slumped against the back of the desk to rest. “Fighting it and running away won’t change a thing. I don’t know why you’re pushing it to the limit.”

“Shut up!” You bit back, ducking your head lower as you began to feel only the slightest bit at ease. This didn’t disperse the anger you held for yourself however.

“You need to tell him, (Y/N).” Scott protests strongly, his stance becoming more stern as his gaze felt like fire seizing your skin. “Things will only get harder going forward. You understand that, don’t you?”

When his words fell upon death ears, Scott knew it was pointless even trying to get an answer out of you. He didn’t blame you, of course not, he just wished you wouldn’t make this situation more hard for yourself; for Stiles.

And when he walked out of the classroom, he could hear your cries of annoyance filled with raging emotions he pitied you for. Closing his eyes, he let out a breath. This doesn’t feel right. He thought, clutching his fists as he exhaled. He had to do something, and although he knew he’d get shit for it later . . . he knew he couldn’t leave it like this. He couldn’t leave them like this.

The sound of Scott’s voicemail coming through the speakers of your nearly dead phone for the seventh time that night made you let out a noise of defeat, sighing up to the pouring sky causing you to be drenched head to toe from above.

After the fellow werewolf had texted you asking for your assistance in werewolf business, who were you to say no? You wanted/needed the experience, no matter how much you tried to deny it at times. Plus, part of you was hoping the McCall boy had summoned you with a way to finally get rid of your problem for good- but you knew that was hopeless thinking.

Hours had passed, yet there was no sign of Scott. No message. No call. No voicemail. Nothing. It was a complete radio silence.

This struck you as odd. Scott McCall was a lot of things, but he was never one to just ditch a friend- or even a stranger, for that matter- without a good reason or a serious hold up.

Part of you worried for the boy. Was he okay? Did he need your help? What if he was already here, possibly injured and just waiting for you to swoop in and help him? You fussed over every detail, resting your head back with a soft thud on the bark of the forest tree behind you to stop your mind from going too far. You had to remind yourself to stay calm, or else things would spiral out of your control and you would be alone with no assistance.

Not keen on giving up just yet, you waited fifteen more minutes before you decided to call it quits. It was getting dark, and the rain was making your clothes and hair stick to you like a second skin at this point.

Walking away from the tree you were taking refuge under left you exposed to the harsh weather, feeling your body beginning to become a victim to the pericing rain once more. And, with no ride to get yourself back home and a phone that would most likely die the second you unlocked it, you knew the bullets of water wouldn’t stop until you reached shelter.

Part of you had wished you had pushed Scott to teach you most of the werewolf basics like using your super speed and super hearing; because most of that would’ve come in handy now. The super speed would’ve helped you make your way home faster than any human ever could . . . and the hearing would’ve helped you identify whatever sound was screeching in your ears before it was too late.

A baby-blue powdered jeep pulled up right in front of you, a familiar head poking out of the rolled down window. You gawked at him, watching as he beckoned a hand over as his words had to raise so you could hear him over the rain. “Get in!”

The twisting feeling that entered your mind told you ‘no’ the minute a subtle heat began to rise- becoming more noticeable in the ice cold rain. However, debating all options, you knew better. The rain was getting worse, the rumbling of a possible thunder storm beginning to head your way as your teeth began to chatter from standing still in the freezing inviroment for so long. And with the way Stiles was watching you carefully, his eyes basically told you that arguing with him was pointless. Classic Stilinski, you guess.

He opened the door for you when you sighed and made your way over to the passenger side of the vehicle that had seen better days, his face beaming when you hopped up on the seat. However, a possible change of ways between you two that he had been holding out for was put down when you folded your arms in a closed off manner; staring at the rainy front of the car. “Take me home, please.”

Stiles wanted to say something- he oh so desperately did- but he knew that would only destroy the little progress he had made with you by actually having you sit in his jeep for the first time alone together in many weeks. So, with his keys now plugged in to start the vehicle and activate the windscreen wipers, you were setting off.

Throughout the car ride, stolen glances were shared between the two of you- yours appearing more discreet than the boy across from you. An itch in your stomach made you feel bad once more as your (Y/E/C) bore into his side profile again like before, admiring the scatter of moles dancing across his skin that you used to trace over gently with the tips of your fingertips when you both would have the rareity of relaxing together. Oh how you’ve missed the many nights of doing that.

“Something wrong?” The sudden voice of Stiles made your spaced out expression twist into that of a confused one, humming in question. Stiles took his eyes off of the road for a split second to turn to you. “You’re staring.”

“Oh! Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” You nodded smoothly, looking down at your hands resting on your lap. With a question pawing to escape in your mind and an urge to at least say something to the boy, you asked him a simple question. “What were you doing out at this time anyway?”

“Scott called me. He said he was busy with Kira, or something, and asked me to pick you up.” The Stilinski teen explained, shrugging with his hands steady on the wheel.

Son of a bitch. You rolled your eyes as the final piece of the puzzle as to why the McCall boy had not turned up at all coming together. It was a set up. That asshole had set you up. “Oh.” Eager to keep your gaze on anything but the boy currently gazing into every inch of your face, your head rolled to rest on the window to stare at the scenery.

You must’ve fallen asleep at one point during the journey home, for all you could remember next was being woken up by the crack of thunder as you lurched up to meet the familiar front of a familiar house. You frowned when the car stopped, your eyebrows knitting together. “Why are we at your house?”

Stiles shrugged in an innocent manner, but the proud-like smile he was displaying told you everything. He knew exactly what he was doing. “The rain was making it hard to see the roads clearly. Plus, with the thunder rising, I figured- since my house is closer- it would be safer if we just stopped here.”

A panic set in amongst your brain, the instinct to get away just like before in the cafeteria setting in. “B-But it’s late.” You tried to reason, staggering through your words.

The boy shrugged. “You can just stay over. I have some spare clothes you can borrow.” He hoped out of the car, opening your side to offer you his hand.

You ignored it, jumping out yourself regardless as you both walked to the front of the door; feeling the boy’s hand brush against yours a few times as you did so. The action caused you to freeze up and panic once more. This was all red flags, warning you at the possible disaster that was to come. You were sure of it.

“Isn’t your dad home? I would hate to intrude. I’d be okay walking home from here, Stiles.” Clutching at straws now, your steps faltered when Stiles began to unlock the door to the house that was like a second home to you. Scratch that, it was a second home to you.

Stiles let out a scoff with a small snort. “My dad’s on night shift tonight, (Y/N), remember?” You cursed under your breath when it dawned on you. It was Friday, the house was a Sheriff Stilinski free household. “Besides, he wouldn’t care anyway; he loves you. And don’t even bring up walking the rest of the way to your house in this weather- it’s not happening.”

Stepping inside, you were overcome with a feeling of sweet nostalgia. The Stilinski house was basically the same as you had least remembered it- the only new thing being the family consisting of a father and son had thrown away the takeaway boxes which normally greeted you and your boyfriend when stepping in around dinner time.

Stiles set a gentle hand on the small of your back, the tingling touch leaving as soon as it came as the boy began to descend up the stairs in the direction of his room. You weren’t far behind either, watching rather nervously as he shot you a quick grin over the shoulder when the door to the bedroom was pushed open.

Stiles’ room had remained the exact same, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. All the strings connecting to the latest supernatural crime happening in Beacon Hills was still up, the crime board itself being decorated with pictures and post-it notes belonging to none other than you.

Small steps forward carried you over to the board, your lips curling up in a soft smile as your eyes scanned over all the cheesy pictures of you and Stiles that had been taken on a Polaroid camera he had gotten you for your birthday one year. They all held such a special memory in your opinion- ranging from your first date to one of your many movie nights.

A specific picture caught your attention in particular, your hand gently plucking the item from the board. You were met with a wide grin that had not been mirrored in weeks by you as the Stiles in the photo sloppily kissed your cheek, his arms wrapped round you as his blue bedsheets kept you both warm.

“I remember that.” Present Stiles was now right beside you, staring down at the picture rather fondly as you were. “It was the night I finally convinced you to watch Star Wars with me.” He grinned, recalling the memory of all the pleading and begging that had led up to that moment.

“Yeah,” A small, unexpected chuckle escaped your lips as you nodded, tilting your head to smile brighter at the photo. “I don’t think you would’ve even allowed me to date you if I hadn’t of watched those movies.”

“I missed those nights, ya know?” The short hum of Stiles made your gaze look away from the picture, your heart hammering in your chest at the look that was now plastered on the Stilinki’s face. “Those nights were all our worries would just vanish- as if nothing supernatural related could harm us.”

Now it was your turn for your face to fall, unable to help yourself as your eyes returned to the picture once more. He was right, of course he was. Yet . . . he didn’t see what you saw in that picture entirely.

In that picture, you saw two humans. You saw your human eyes that would now turn red if you wished and a smile that could now produce fangs when angered. The picture contained two human beings in a loving relationship . . . unaware that that title would soon change in a matter of weeks.

“I miss those nights too, Stiles,” The pad of your thumb smoothed over the photo, your shoulder now flaunt against the Stilinski’s clothed chest. “but I don’t know if we’ll ever have one of those nights again.” You had to be open about the future with yourself, and it tore you in half doing so in front of the boy.

“Sure we can.” Stiles was quick to shoot pack, turning around to signal for you to do the same. Your eyes connected as he stared at you softly, the temperature of the room beginning to rise at the sight. “We can have all those nights: all those moments again if we wanted.”

“Stiles-” your own jittering lips were the ones to cut your sentence short, the after effect of the rain only beginning to kick in now as you suddenly felt as if you were in a freezer of a room.

Stiles noticed the action immediately, his arms coming to rest on your forearms as they rubbed up and down gently in an attempt to warm you up. It worked probably better than it should’ve, admittedly; for the feeling of dreaded warmth in the cafeteria came again. Shit.

“I’ll get you a change of clothes.” You shivered when his arms left you- whether that be from the cold or something else was beyond you- leaving you to stand and watch his retreating back as he dug through one of his drawers before making his way back over to you. “Here.”

A smile became present on your lips when you immediately noticed the familiar design of the Mets hoodie that had become a quick favourite on your list of clothes that you liked to borrow- and sometimes steal, but we ain’t talking about that- and wear on the many nights that you stayed over. “My favourite.”

“Yeah,” Stiles let out the lightest of laughs as he scratched the back of his neck, making his way over to the drawers again to pick out clothes for himself. “I thought you’d like it. It’s been awhile since you’ve worn one of my shirts or hoodies.”

There it was, the guilt of your actions setting in. Your fingers subconsciously curled tighter round the fabric as you stripped off your clothing, leaving them in a damp bundle on the carpet floor before you slipped the bigger item of clothing on your body that reached just below your thighs.

It didn’t take long for the tiredness to catch up on you both, Stiles being the one to suggest that you two hit the hay after he witnessed you letting out a big yawn. He was quick to leap onto his bed, his eyes appearing to be excited until he saw you made no move to climb in next to you. “Everything okay, babe?”

“Yeah. It’s just, I think I’m just gonna,” you shifted on the balls of your feet, an awkward feeling igniting as you gestured over your shoulder to the boy’s desk chair. “I think I’m just gonna crash on the chair tonight.”

Stiles laughed at first, thinking it to be some weird joke. You always shared a bed, even before dating. It wasn’t weird or out of the ordinary for you two, so why you were so hesitant now only fueled his concern. “You’re serious? But we always sleep in my bed.”

“I actually think I’m coming down with something from that rain.” You lied, going as far as to fake a sniffle as you waved it off. “I don’t want to get you sick, it’s fine.”

“You think I care about getting sick?” Stiles smiled, his eyes watching as you stubbornly planted yourself on his desk chair and shifted to remain comfy. “Come on, (Y/N), lay with me.”

“I can’t, Stiles.” You shook your head, nuzzling your head in the leather material that differed far from the comfortable pillow you were used to. “Goodnight.” You hoped that would somehow cut things off, your mind left to wonder just how torturous tonight will be.

A small ‘oomph’ left you when a soft material collided with the back of your head. Whipping round, you now had one of Stiles’ pillows resting on your lap. You were about to shoot the boy a look, but Stiles had already beat you to it. “Stop. No takebacks. Take the damn pillow.”

With the boy across from you beginning to settle down for the night once more, you chose to try and get some rest yourself as you tightly stuffed the pillow into the comforts of your arms. It took awhile for you to find a comfortable position in the chair, but eventually, you managed a decent spot. The feeling of warmth surging and clawing like a monster in your chest was still there, but you tried to shake it off.

It would go away, right? The night would fall and you would get some rest, leaving all your problems even if it was for only a moment . . . oh how wrong you were.

The feeling grew like a fungus, spreading to every inch and crevice of your body until it felt like a fire was starting from within your body and would not die out until it got what it wanted. The smell of your boyfriend’s shirt and pillow just underneath your nostrils didn’t help either, your enhanced smell making the scent stronger and unable to ignore.

The clatter of palms slamming on his desk so suddenly gained the awake Stiles Stilinski’s attention, sitting up on his elbows as he watched your breathing pattern grow ragged. “(Y/N)?” He asked slowly, seeing your body tense.

“I-I’m fine.” You grunted out, your eyes hurting from how much you were scrunching them up to hold back. You knew this was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have entered the house. “J-Just stay back and give me a minute, Stiles.”

“Are you sure? Babe, you don’t seem to look so good. Why don’t you come into bed with-”

“Its fine just give me a minute, Stiles!” A sudden outburst of loud anger mixed with panic flooded through when you heard his soft movements of getting out of bed behind you. You held out a hand in warning, vaguely shaking your head. “Just don’t come any closer . . . please.”

Thankfully, the boy seemed to listen as you didn’t hear him move any closer. Unfortunately, he didn’t silence himself as you heard his voice softly flow over to you. “Why are you acting like this around me?” His voice was in the early stages of breaking, your head lifting up but not yet facing him at the tone. “Why? Why are we like this now? Is it something I did? Is it my fault?”

“No.” Things were taking a bad turn and you were scared. The feeling was clawing harder and harder, and you didn’t know if you could fight it anymore. Scott was right, it was only getting worse the more you trapped it deep inside. “No, it’s not you, Stiles. You did nothing.”

“Then why do you push me away?” There it was; the break in the voice. God, it felt like your heart had been given an abrupt tug when you heard the sound. “Why do you act so weird around me now, as if you’re scared to be around me? Is it the bite? Because, if this is about you being a werewolf then, (Y/N), I couldn’t care less what you are. I just want us back.”

“It’s more than that, Stiles.” You shook your head, letting out your first noise of pain of the night. You didn’t know how long you could fight this and if you even could anymore. Your body was being pushed to its ultimate limits, and the walls were crumbling fast.

“Then tell me! Tell me so I can help you, (Y/N). You’re breaking my heart by seeing you like this. All I want is to just take you in my arms and help you forget all your problems like you do with me, yet you refuse. Why?” He’s almost pleading with you now, pleading with you to let him in; to allow him to understand.

“Because I don’t have control with you, Stiles!” There it was. The icebreaker that felt like someone had popped a ballon swelling up in your chest with a needle. You fell back against the chair, tears beginning to build as you hugged the pillow closer to your chest and clung onto it as if you were hugging someone. “I-I can’t be around you because . . . because I can’t control myself from going into heat and wanting to . . . wanting to,” you trialed off, your words becoming softer as you felt the tears blur your vision.

“Wanting to what?” Stiles’ tone didn’t give you any hint as to how or what he was feeling after your words, so you didn’t know if that helped or made it harder as you answered.

“T-To mark you, Stiles. To mark you . . . as my official mate.” Silence settled across the room, the tension metaphorically suffocating you with the words now loose in the air. I shouldn’t have said anything. You thought, closing your eyes as the feeling died down until it became a tiny flicker of light compared to the fire it had been beforehand.

“W-What?” There was a slight tone of emotion to his voice how. Surprise? Fear? Anxiety? Excitement? It was hard to tell with the way your mind was unable to focus. “I’m . . . I’m your mate?”

There was no point taking back what had already been given. With the tears now fading into nothing but salty wet lines on your cheeks, you turned your back to the boy and hugged the pillow to your chest once more as if you were hugging him. You didn’t give into the need to look, because you knew looking would only make it all the more difficult to forgive yourself for ruining one of the few normal things you had going on in your life.

Deep down, you knew no one was to blame but yourself. You could pin the blame on any of your friends as much as you wanted, but they weren’t the ones who had made your mistakes. They weren’t the ones to have locked the truth up for so long that it caused them physical pain and in the end quite possibly made things worse.

“You know,” Stiles’ voice was like the sun coming through the clouds as it made something in your chest- butterflies?- feel lighter than it had been seconds before. “I read that when you cuddle a pillow you’re missing human affection, so maybe you can cuddle me?”

You feared you may have received whiplash with how swiftly you spun yourself around to witness the sight of Stiles smiling- adoringly, for that matter- as he lifted up the covers of his bed, patting the spot next to him welcomingly.

That was when- for the first time in this situation- your feet called the shots. It rose you from the chair slowly, allowing you to collect the plump pillow before it carried you forwards in tentative steps; stopping only when you were now right in front of the Stilinski boy.

Stiles looked up at you and- even with the moonlight being the only light source provided- gave you a look that made you melt. It was the look that you had received before the rise of your relationship. It was the look that calmed all the waves that damaged you through life.

It was a look that made you forget about all your problems . . . and that nothing supernatural related could hurt you.

Gingerly, The Stilinski boy’s hand tangled with yours as he pulled you down gently until you rolled to be placed on top of his chest. From, there, his hands hugged around your waist; trapping you there so your eyes were forced to meet.

“I thought it was impossible for a werewolf and human to be mates.” Was all that came out of his cupid-shaped lips, his nose coming up to nuzzle and brush cutely against yours.

You hummed in a form of happiness at the action, your fingers crawling up to tangle and play with the messy brown hair of the boy. “No, it’s not impossible- just rare. You have to be born human to have one.”

“How long have you known?” Stiles pulled away from you ever so slightly, his thumb drawing patterns as the hoodie you were wearing rode up ever so slightly, exposing your skin.

“Since my birthday.” You honestly answered, seeing your boyfriend tilt his head in the cutest manner. “It was when the pack surprised me, you were in the kitchen, so you missed the cue . . . but when you walked out to greet me . . . I knew.”

Stiles’ lips quirked up softly, edging closer so his lips brushed lightly over yours. “You knew?”

“Well, not until Scott properly explained it, but I remember the feeling of just wanting to be with you, celebrate with you, laugh with you, cry with you. I just- I wanted our relationship, Stiles.”

Two fingers came under your chin, Stiles’ eyes glinting with a prideful joy at your confession. The look made your stomach heat up, but, this time, it was different. It didn’t cause you pain. In fact, it just caused you to feel one thing . . . and that was a deep lust.

“You didn’t have to want our relationship, baby.” Stiles mumbled after clashing his lips onto yours, pulling away as the sound of lips disconnecting sounded through the bedroom. “Not when you already have it and every peice of me. Well, every piece . . . except one.”

Thud. Your heartbeat rises dramatically, causing you to sit back from the position you were currently in which was lying down on his chest. “Stiles . . . are you,” you trailed off, unsure of what your gut was telling you.

“I am.” Stiles Stilinski answered back as soon as the question was fired, his gaze too becoming almost needy as his amber eyes scanned you over before he met your eyes once more. “I want this, (Y/N).”

“But-But what if-” Regardless of the reduced pain, you still had your doubts. What if you went too far? What if things got bad and you could no longer stand on the fine line of human and werewolf? What if-

“Hey,” gentle hands held yours, squeezing one time with a thumb swipe over the knuckle as your breathing hitched at what it meant to you both. When things got more serious and, well, passionate between you both, the pair of you opted for hand signs. One squeeze with a swipe over the knuckle meant that they were okay, they weren’t harmed or scared to take things further with whatever they were trying. They were okay with what was happening, and they wanted it to happen. “You’re not gonna hurt me, okay? Remember that.”

Unable to grasp at formidable words, your lips did all the talking for you. Launching forwards, you captured his lips in yours. A short hum of pleasure escaped him, his hand beginning to travel to the bottom of the hoodie to slide it up. You smirked. “I love you, Stiles Stilinski. So much. I’m sorry.”

The Stilinski cupped your cheek and admired you as if you were the all the stars in a boring galaxy, his legs tangled with yours in an act to become closer. “Don’t be sorry, baby.” He whispered comfortingly, feeling you lean into his touch. “I love you so much, (Y/N), no matter what.”

You grinned at him. “Even if I haven’t seen the last Star Wars movie?”

“It’s a god damn miracle I haven’t left your ass for that and if you don’t mark me as yours forever right now, there’s gonna be trouble!” Stiles exasperated, only quieting down when you silenced him with a lustful kiss.

“You don’t need to ask me twice, Sti.” You laughed at the way his face beamed at the nickname you hadn’t used for him in weeks, the sight allowing you the comforting, cushioned thought that even after all these months; nothing had changed. You were still (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Stiles Stilinski . . . the only change would be that Stiles would now have a permanent mark on his neck on display for everyone to see.

Stiles Stilinski was a sight for sore eyes, and there was no doubt you were absolutely mesmerized by everything about him. You had no control, yet- as you laid later on in the night not only in the comforts of the bed you had been missing for weeks on end, but also the pair of arms that felt like a sweet home to run to when things got tough that could now be given the label of your mate- you were learning to accept.

Little by little, you were learning to accept that you and Stiles could still be the couple you had thought to have vanished the minute the wolf fangs pierced your dying skin. You were learning that you had always been you- werewolf or not . . . and it took a loving Stiles and one hell of a mating problem to realise that.

━ 𝐑 𝐎 𝐒 𝐂 𝐎 𝐄 𝐎 𝐁 𝐑 𝐈 𝐄 𝐍

[longinglook]

I may or may not have spent my entire Sunday binge watching all of I told sunset about you and Gaya sa pelikula and now I have so many thoughts and feelings that I need to write about them so here we go! Under a read more (if tumblr allows me to) because it’s 2k words hehe

First of all, I knew next to nothing about both shows before starting them. I had seen a couple of gifs here and there, but really had no idea what I was in for.

I started with I told sunset about you, which has 3 episodes out of 5 out. All I knew is that it was going to be beautiful and possibly sad, and it was. Everything about this show is so high quality, from the audio to the dialogue to the locations to the acting, just wow. The production is better than a lot of movies I’ve seen, and every technical aspect is perfect. I am really loving the plot so far as well, I find the childhood friendship to stubborn rivalry to grown up friendship again very relatable. I think it’s a very common experience for a lot of non straight folks to develop an extremely close bond with a same sex friend when you’re too young to realize what you’re actually feeling for them until you’re a lot older and suddely the jealousy and possessivenes all make sense.

I love the recurring themes sprinkled throughout the episodes, starting from the chinese vocabulary that expresses the core thoughts of the two main characters: rival, intimacy, secret, male protagonist, as promised. They could easily be the episode titles, or the names of imaginary sections the show could be divided into. It’s a great way to integrate metaphors and deeper meaning into the plot.

That’s how most of the communication goes in this show, deep emotions are never conveyed through words because words are scary and loud and they can’t be taken back once they’re out there. The plot advances though stares and gestures and touch and gorgeous shots of the landscape. The pace is slow with hour-long episodes that could each be a movie of their own. This worried me a bit before starting, and I have to admit that at times I struggled to stay focused, especially during scenes that set the mood but don’t do much plot-wise. This is just a personal preference, though, and in no way I see it as a flaw. 

The dancing around each other the main characters do, sometimes literal, is frustrating but it determines an emotional build up that’s just starting to reach its peak. This is one of those shows that has me screaming if only they talked to each other, but the silences and unspoken words are so well directed and acted that it works. I struggle a lot with keeping in mind that they’re still in high school, they’re very young and I can’t expect them to act rationally just yet. 

I was really worried about Teh possibly going the insufferable Theory-of-love-khai way, and I am still not 100% sold on him. When he started helping Oh-aew again it felt like he was just doing it to make himself feel better about the whole thing. It was frustrating to see him so possessive and jealous while also so deeply in denial about his own feelings, to the point where he had me rooting for Bas instead. He was getting better, but then he fled at the end of episode 3 and now I have no clue what’s going to happen next. About this, I really have no idea if they’re going for a happy ending or a sad one. I’m really hoping it will be good, because so far there has been barely any emotional payoff for all the repressed longing and misunderstanding the show has put us through.

I do like their dynamic a lot though, I have a weak spot for childhood friends reconnecting and an ever weaker spot for informal mentor/mentee relationships. Oh-aew asking Teh to tutor him until he passes the admission exam was an almost exact mirror of Yuri on ice Yuri begging Victor to be his coach until he retires and I loved that a lot.

Now on to the one issue I have with this show: it feels too much like an art film. It reminds me of Moonlight and Call me by your name, in the way that I wasn’t able to connect with those movies because they are too perfect. They are so beautiful and carefully crafted that I can’t fully immerse myself in them. There’s a filter that stops me from relating to the characters and constantly reminds me that this is not reality. It’s pretty, it’s extremely well done, but it feels like art. It has some quirks, some scenes that feel too artificial. One scene in particular, the one where Teh buries his head in the paper Oh-aew wrote with his coconut scented pen to sniff it, which is a direct parallel to Call me by your name, bothered me in particular. Just as it felt over-the-top and purposefully weird in the movie, so it feels in the show. It’s a way of showcasing how a confused teen deals with attraction he barely understands, it’s raw and animalistic in a way, but it’s so quirky that all it accomplishes is to remind me that I’m watching an lgbt show. It makes me wonder if a scene like this would make sense in a straight relationship because here it seems to highlight how different and primal his attraction is. If I had to pinpoint it, I’d say that I have a problem with media showcasing queerness though peculiar, purposefully awkward scenes like these instead of normal kissing and cuddling.

Overall, I can’t wait to see how this show ends and I still think it’s one of the best bls to air in 2020, if not ever. It’s refreshing to see something with a big budget used well! So far my rating is 8/10, which I know is a lot lower than what everyone else seems to think but it’s still very much subject to change! Just hoping they won’t pull a Make our days count, but I doubt they’ll go there.

And now Gaya sa pelikula. Wow. Again, I knew next to nothing about this show before watching, and I was coming from a 3 hour I told sunset about you binge watch, so the bar was pretty high.

And boy, did this show deliver. I was blown away by the depth and the humor of it. It feels like the writers had fun taking all sorts of common tropes and stereotypes just to show everyone how well they can be evolved and made complex. Two strangers who somehow find themselves sharing an apartment sounds like the start of so many fanfictions out there, but it’s so well executed and interesting that you don’t even stop to think about how weak the premises for their meeting are. It doesn’t matter and it’s not even that far-fetched, either. The sister and the neighbor are also two characters that start off as extra stereotyped, but in just a few scenes they unveil an incredible depth and backstory. It blew me away.

Each character is so realistic. Everything they do and say makes sense, they all have their reasons and their past and they react accordingly, it’s so coherent. It’s impressive how everything takes place inside the house and you barely realize it because things happen and the plot moves anyways, and the way information about external events and people is conveyed is so seamless that you don’t even notice it. In only 7 episodes (so far) they have managed to give everyone a complex background and personality through the use of objects and small details and wow don’t get me started on the music.

The soundtrack is SO GOOD. I never really pay attention to music in shows but it plays a very important role here in my opinion and, well, it’s exactly the kind of music I like listening to and ahhh I just spent 4 hours playing the first kiss song on loop so I might be biased. Right from the start in episode 1, when Karl gives in to Vlad’s music and starts dancing to it, it’s established that it’s an important element to the mood of each scene. I love how the dancing I talked about for I told sunset about you comes back here, but while I saw it as a hesitant dancing around each other there, here it’s the opposite, it’s freeing and it’s about accepting yourself. And the end of episode 6 highlights this, with the beautiful quote “You are entitled to a love that lets you dance without fear and shame.” It made me cry a looooot.

I think the development of their relationship is masterfully done. It doesn’t happen too quickly nor too slowly. Karl goes through some needed shocks that act as his wake up call. When I’m watching bl shows I care the most about them feeling real and relatable. I don’t want to feel like they were written by a straight person trying to guess what it’s like to be gay. Now I didn’t look anything up about the Gaya sa pelikula writers, but I’d be very surprised if they were straight. I can relate to both Karl and Vlad for different aspects of their stories and their worries and thoughts. There was one part in particular that hit so close that I had to take a few breaks because it hurt too much. I am a lesbian, I’ve had relationship with a girl that lasted over a year, I am out to some friends but not all. I never came out to my parents, who are both very open minded and friends with a lot of gay people and would love me just as much if I told them, and yet I can’t. It’s not just that, I am terrified by the idea of them already knowing or being able to guess. When Karl freaked out over his uncle guessing, it hit me so hard because I’ve felt the same way so many times.

Episode 7 was amazing. I hate badly written drama the most, and 99% of shows can’t come up with any good reason for drama but they have to put it in there anyways and it sucks. This was the complete opposite, I adored it and I say this as a lover of fluff. It feels right, I think it’s an issue that would come up between two people like them. They are both right and the only thing that could happen there is what actually went down. I definitely think things will be fixed by the end and I am looking forward to it, but I am very glad this issue was included because it’s so important and so true to many lgbt people’s lives.

Another aspect I absolutely adored are the multiple references to lgbt theory and language, and Vlad has some of the best lines I’ve ever heard coming from a bl. When he tells Karl not to be afraid of the word, when he explains that “you don’t look gay” isn’t a compliment, when he scolds his sister for not acknowledging the things she used to say to him by covering them up with her ally act, those are all such important and educative moments that I hope everyone listens to. I love that Vlad is not correcting some ignorant bad guy, but it’s his accepting and loving friends and family that make the mistakes, because sometimes being supportive your own way isn’t enough if you’re not actively learning from the ones you want to support.

This is a 10/10 for me right now. I can’t find anything I don’t like about it. It never feels boring, it never feels overdone, it never feels cheap or unoriginal. It went straight to the top of my favorite bls.

And now I can’t help but compare the two a bit, because yes they are two different shows but right now the relationships they portray have reached the same point: there has been a climax and now the one who is more confused about his sexuality is panicking and taking a step back. It’s a coincidence that I watched both shows on the same day when their last aired episodes end in such a similar way, but it really leads me to compare the two. I don’t want to put them one against each other or say which one did it better because that’s not the point of this, they are both two amazing and important shows who are excelling in what they’re doing. 

Gaya sa pelikula is down to earth, it’s explicit and it’s straight to the point in explaining what’s going on inside each character’s head. It feels like watching real people deal with real struggles. I told sunset about you is a lot more subtle and quiet, and since we don’t really have a clear insight in the characters’ heads sometimes it’s hard to completely understand what’s going on with them. It’s a completely different way of narrating, and while Gaya sa pelikula makes me feel like I’m a part of the events, I told sunset about you feels like I’m just spectating from an outside perspective. They are different choices, but one of them ends up feeling a lot more emotional to me than the other.

To wrap it up, I highly recommend both shows and I can’t wait to see how they’ll end! They are both among the best shows of the year, both free of all those annoyingly stereotyped characters and plot points that most bls tend to overuse.

[mca-attack21]

Destiny

So I watch all of the Star Wars movies for the first time and I figured that there was no better way to jump start my return to tumblr than with a Star Wars imagine. So, here we go!

Here you were face to face with Supreme Leader Snoke. This is where you were going to die, Kylo had seen it happen in his dreams. This is where it was always meant to end.

Regardless of how bleak the entirety of the situation had seemed, you refused to lose hope. You fought back with everything you had in you and resisted giving in to the torture. You would rather die than to join the dark side.

Kylo struggled to watch as your face contorted in pain. He didn’t know why he cared. He wished that he could understand it because maybe if he could understand it he could put an end to it once and for all. He was Kylo Ren, grandson of Darth Vader. So why was he struggling with your inevitable demise?

His inner conflict was supposed to die when he killed his father. That was supposed to sever all ties he had to the light side and cement his commitment to the dark side. He should be well on his way to conquering the universe and dismantle the resistance. You were a Jedi, he was a Knight of Ren, opposition was your destiny. He most certainly should not be having any sort of hesitation in watching you die. But as he watched the scene unfold in front of him he realized that he didn’t want to kill you, he wanted to know you.

The two of you had only met a couple of times, but there was an undeniable connection between you. Your fire enchanted him. You were so passionate, brave, strong, and resilient. When you were with him he didn’t feel fear or hate radiating off you. It was something else entirely. It made him feel a draw, not necessarily to the light, but to you. It brought him a connection to his past that wasn’t accompanied by guilt or hatred. This feeling he got gave him hope for a future where he could be something more.

So when the Supreme Leader had placed you in front of him and ordered him to complete his training by ending you and the Jedis once and for all, he knew what he had to do. He looked you in the eyes as he drew his light-saber. Even facing death, you were not afraid of him, you didn’t hate him, if anything, you felt bad for him. You simply closed your eyes waiting for the blow that would end it all.

The expected blow never came. Instead, you were shocked to see that he used the force to activate your light-saber and kill the Supreme Leader. He gestured for it to come to you and together the two of you fought the Praetorian guardsmen. Your mind was racing about what this meant, however, you found it hard to think too much about it as you were both fighting for your lives.

The fight was intense, but together you persisted. You were in a one on one with one of the guards when you noticed Kylo was being overtaken completely unarmed. You didn’t hesitate to throw him your light-saber while using the force to summon his. In the mere seconds, it took to appear, your attacker managed to slice at your stomach. You immediately retaliated ending the fight in one strike. You made your way over to Kylo who was just ending his own battle.

You stared at him, briefly at a total loss for words. Your brain couldn’t comprehend everything that had just happened. He met your glaze and there was so much tension between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spoke mentally cursing yourself for not coming up with something better.

“What?” he asked as your voice drew him out of his own thoughts.

“I said ‘thank you’, you know for saving my life and all” you repeated.

“Of course,”

“So, what happens now?”

“Join me,” he says softly.

“What? What about the Resistance and the First Order?”

“Forget them. We can leave all of it behind, just you and me against the galaxy,” he answered looking at you hopefully.

“I can never go back to the Resistance not with everything I’ve done. I’d never be able to look my mom in the eyes again. And I don’t belong here on the dark side. I can see it now, it’s a losing battle, just the past repeating itself. But it doesn’t have to be with us. We can leave here today and create our own future. When this ship crashes, everyone will think we were on it. We won’t have to be pawns in their game anymore.”

“I-I don’t know,” you answered mind racing at the possibility.

“Come on Y/n, you can’t tell me you don’t feel this connection between us. Come with me, please,” he begged as he reached out his hand.

The two of you were running out of time. It wouldn’t be long until someone discovered you or until the ship crashed. It was now or never. You had to make a decision. 

You were torn between going with your heart and your sense of duty. You owed your life to the resistance and believed in their cause, but Kylo was right about the undeniable connection between the two of you. Deep down you knew that if you didn’t leave with him that your paths would continue to cross until one of you wound up having to kill the other. And he was right, he could never join the resistance, they wouldn’t trust him and if the dark side found out he spared you they would kill him. He had risked everything to save your life, maybe this was how you would save his.

“Okay,” you decide, taking his hand.

His entire face lit up, he was so relieved that you weren’t abandoning him. There was so much that he wanted to say to you, but there wasn’t enough time. Instead, he simply nodded and led you away. The two of you boarded a ship and made it out into free space far away from all of the action. Kylo was familiarizing himself with the controls and set-up of the ship, taking a moment to breathe still slightly in denial after what had just happened. 

You were scoping out the resources on the plain and your adrenaline was beginning to wear off. For the first time, you were beginning to feel the extent of your injury. You glanced up to make sure you were still alone and proceeded to lift up the top of your outfit to access the damage. There was a lot of blood and the wound seemed deep. You reminded yourself that it most likely wasn’t as bad as it looked. The previously dull ache was quickly escalating into fiery agony and your breathing was becoming shaky. How had you not noticed this earlier? 

You quickly re-positioned yourself and tore off some fabric to wrap tightly and apply pressure to the wound. Everything was going to be fine, you just needed it to stop bleeding. It’s fine, you reassured yourself.

Meanwhile, Kylo had asked you where it was that you wanted to go. When he didn’t get a response he realized that you hadn’t returned from exploring the ship’s resources. He still couldn’t believe that you had agreed to join him and that the two of you were actually going to do this. You were going to get out of this messed up fight once and for all. He was busy thinking about the life that the two of you could create when he felt it. Something was wrong, something was wrong with you. He immediately went in search of you.

When he saw you, he cursed himself for not noticing your injury sooner. You were semi-reclined struggling to apply pressure as the exertion of the day and the consequences of your injury were combined and working against you. Your face was covered in sweat and the palest he’d ever seen it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked as he sat across from you.

“It’s not that bad,” you answered.

“Of course you don’t think it’s that bad,” he chuckled, “let me have a look,” 

He lifted your hands and removed the already red fabric. In his presence allowed yourself to relax. You wanted to let go and give in to the exhaustion, knowing you were in good hands.

“Hey now, I’m going to take care of you, just stay awake,”

He then put his hand on your wound which caused you to groan in pain jerking away from his touch. He apologized and then closed his eyes to focus. He used the force to slowly heal your injury. You watched in utter awe. When he finished his eyes met yours and you both smiled. 

“That’s the second time you saved my life today,” you spoke.

“Just evening up the score,” he replied moving to sit next to you. You rest your head against him and just took in his presence.

Kylo was slightly caught off guard by this action as it was completely foreign to him. He quickly decided that he liked it. 

“So, what happens now?” you asked.

“Now, we make our own destiny,” he answered taking your hand in his.