#*celine dion voice* that's the way it is

[mister-eames]

I see your Arthur singing Frank Sinatra and I RAISE you drunk!arthur singing Mariah Carey’s Loverboy (the firecracker version btw) at karaoke. Dream a little bigger, darlings and give that boy THE RANGE. Drunk!arthur doesn’t just sing, btw; he PERFORMS. & maybe eames has only worked with arthur a couple of times at this point so it’s like whiplash. Super serious pointman by day, karaoke king by night. He would be CHARMED.

Ooooh. So... a man like Arthur--for all intents and purposes, an 'uptight', all stitched in, no nonsense kind of man--has to have some kind of outlet, right, has to have some kind of side to him that goes to bed, undresses, relaxes, switches off, as we all do --a head to his tails, of sorts. I personally like to think Arthur is far from prim and proper (hey asshole, 'cause that worked so good, he's gonna help us break in...). I think, indulgently, despite how he presents himself at work, Arthur is.... very not neat and tidy, internally. Arthur is a red wine day-drinking, moodily salad-eating, elbows on the table (it's canon don't come for me) shit-at-life kinda mess outside of work. And I love however that manifests in our interpretations.

Let's say he sings.

I feel like drunk!Arthur definitely has a repertoire. Arthur knows the lyrics of his three-thousand-strong song playlist. Arthur had the first iPod nanos (and still does) and maxed them. Loverboy, L-O-V-E, American Pie, sung when he thinks he has no audience, tipsy, erring on drunk after more tequila than he remembers, maybe at karaoke, maybe just packing his suitcase for a job, sat on the floor cross-legged, rolling his socks into neurotic little mismatched bundles.

Eames stumbling across any of these, though. Like seeing the man behind the curtain, in a way, suddenly struck by this weird effervescence in his chest, a strange tickle under his sternum he initially mistakes for his own awkwardness, not realising some part of him was being dug out and reshuffled, making room for someone else. And then maybe filing that feeling away. Maybe letting it simmer. I don't know. I think Eames would feel some kind of way, moved unwittingly by Arthur's "messiness", Arthur outside of his own self made paradigm? *chefs kiss*.

[pedroscurls]

tale as old as time (one-shot)

summary: after a very rough night, logan finally decides that you deserve better than him. nothing ever works out for him - chaos and danger follows him wherever he goes and he can't subject you to that life. not you.

spairing: old man!logan x fem!reader content warnings: angst (with a happy ending, i promise!), established relationship, logan is bad at feelings (what's new lol), descriptions of blood and violence, no use of y/n. word count: 1.7k a/n: ok i'm gonna be honest... i've never seen beauty & the beast so i hope i did this justice. i've also been missing writing for logan... and what better way to get back into it than partake in @princessanglophile's 22nd birthday writing challenge! thanks for hosting this challenge, lex - and happy birthday + congrats! <3 i wanted to a disney song with a logan version and got "old man logan with the song beauty and the beast"... i mean, how fitting for this character?! hope y'all enjoy <3 song: beauty and the beast by celine dion & peabo bryson

Logan leans against his limo—white tank top bloodied, body in excruciating pain. Had it always felt like this? Logan knows that he’s dying. His regenerative powers not working like they used to and maybe life’s finally catching up to him. After everything he’s done, the people he’s hurt and killed, it’s finally his time—his turn. 

A happy ending was never in the cards for him. Every person he’s ever loved or cared about had either died because of him or chosen to leave because who would want to spend the rest of their days with a man like him? 

He had accepted his fate long before you came into his life. You were the complete opposite of him—gentle and kind, patient and understanding, and absolutely beautiful. You had caught him off guard when you slid into the back of his limousine with a group of your friends. The way your eyes met his from the rear view mirror had him thinking about you long after he dropped you and your friends off for the night. 

He couldn’t understand why someone like you wanted to spend the rest of your days with someone like him. It’s only a matter of time until you realize like the rest, right? 

Logan’s tried to keep you at a distance—to protect you, to keep you safe from him. But you’re persistent, stubborn and he can’t help but continue to give you what you want. 

How can someone so beautiful love someone as monstrous as him? 

Don’t you know that this is only going to end badly? 

Logan’s tried to reason with himself, tried to think that this can work, but tonight… Tonight was a wake up call. A reality check. The life he lives, the person he is… it’s not a life that he wants you to be a part of. Not you. 

Because you deserve so much more than what he can give you, Logan knows that.

Before Logan can even knock on your door, you swing the door open—almost like you knew he’d be on your doorstep this late in the night. He can see the expression on your face when you finally turn on the light to your front door. He sees the way your brows furrow in concern, eyes filled with sadness at the sight of him. God, he wishes he can just be normal for once, for you. 

“Hey bub—”

You interrupt him because you wrap your arms around him. It’s gentle, careful and it’s something that he still isn’t used to. “You’re okay,” you whisper. “You’re okay.” You’re repeating it like it’s a chant, like maybe you’re trying to reassure yourself that he’s fine, he’s alive, he’s here. 

“Listen, we have to talk,” Logan whispers out. Voice hoarse, body still screaming in pain. 

“Okay, let’s—Let’s get you cleaned up first, yeah?” You lead him inside your home and Logan scans your living room—he’s trying to remember what this place looks like, how safe and at home he feels here with you because he’s sure that this will be the last time he ever sets foot inside. 

You lead him into the bathroom and you grab the first aid kit that you keep in the medicine cabinet. You’re used to this, used to cleaning up his wounds and making sure that he’s okay. He sits at the edge of the bathtub, removes his tank top with a quiet groan and his eyes move in your direction when he hears a quiet gasp escape your lips.

“This is worse than before, Logan.” 

“I know,” he answers gruffly. “Listen, we have to talk—”

“After I clean you up,” you interrupt again. There you go again—persistent, stubborn and it makes the corner of his lips lift upwards just slightly. 

“Fine.” 

“Thank you,” you say with a smile—the same smile that has captured his heart so many months ago and for some reason, it’s no longer the wounds that are causing him pain at this very moment… 

It’s the conversation that he’s dreading to have because he knows that smile on your face will fall and tears will stream down that beautiful face of yours. 

But he has to do it. 

For him… for you. 

You’re careful in cleaning up his wounds, focused on the task at hand. Even though he can feel the sting of the alcohol against the cuts, your touch is still so very gentle. He gazes up at you, memorizing every inch of your beautiful face. He wants so badly to just spend the rest of his days here with you, but he knows he can’t… knows he shouldn’t. 

“Will you tell me what happened?” You finally ask. 

“Same thing that always happens,” he shrugs. 

Logan hears you sigh. He knows you don’t like the way he doesn’t make a big deal about this, about how serious it is. He can still see the concern etched into your features and he gently reaches out, places his hand gently on your wrist. He ceases your movements and when your eyes finally meet his, he can see them glistening with unshed tears. 

“Baby,” he says quietly. Barely above a whisper. “We can’t keep doin’ this.” 

You shake your head. “Doing what?” 

“You know what. This—Me…This isn’t what you deserve.” 

“And how do you know what I deserve, Logan?”

“You’re right. I don’t,” he sighs and drops his hand. “I just know that it’s not me.” 

“I don’t care who you are, what you are—”

“But you should,” Logan interrupts. Slowly, his wounds begin to heal itself but the pain lingers. It always lingers now. 

“But I don’t.” 

“Baby,” he repeats. “Chaos will always follow me and I can’t—” Logan’s jaw tightens and he has to look away from you. He can’t stand the look on your face—the disappointment, the tears slowly trickling down your cheeks, eyes once filled with so much hope and love now filled with sadness. 

And it’s all because of him. 

“I can’t have you be part of it,” he finishes. “You’re too good, too kind, too gentle and I’m… I’m nothing like that.” Logan shakes his head and slowly stands from the bath tub, grabbing his blood stained tank top to pull it over himself. 

“No.” You finally speak. It’s only one work but it speaks volumes because you’re staring at him, holding your ground—persistent, stubborn. 

“Sorry?” He asks, confused. 

“I said no.” 

“Don’t think you have a choice,” he says harshly. “I’m doing this for you. I can’t give you what you want, bub. You deserve someone better than me.” 

“You can’t make that choice for me,” you quip. Despite the tears threatening to spill over, you hold your ground. You want him to see what you see—a man who’s tried to make the most of what life gave him. A man who would doanything to protect the people he cared about. A man who does have a good heart. 

Logan just huffs, but he doesn’t move. He stands in your bathroom with you in front of him and he doesn’t bother to look at you either. It’s easier this way, he tells himself. 

“If you didn’t want me to be part of this,” you tell him, motioning between the both of you. “Then you shouldn’t have come here tonight.” 

His eyes glance in your direction and he tightens his jaw. He knows you’re right, but how can he tell you that it was one last chance for him to see you? “You’re right. I shouldn’t have come here tonight.” 

Logan’s about to walk past you, but he feels your soft touch on his chest. He glances down at your hand and can see the way your thumb brushes against the fabric of his white tank top. This simple touch grounds him and he shuts his eyes, leans into you as his hand reaches out to gently rest on your hip. 

“You’re running away,” you whisper. “And you can’t.” Your other hand reaches up to touch his cheek, thumb brushing against his jawline. You hear Logan let out a quiet sigh—he’s melting into you. “You’re right where you belong.” 

“You’re you and I’m…me.” Logan whispers, hand squeezing your hip. “Why me?” He asks. “Why me when you deserve someone so much better?” 

“You’re my person, Logan,” you admit. “I don’t care if you don’t believe it or not, but you are.”

“I’m a monster,” he says quietly, voice shaky. 

“Says who?” You whisper, gently running your thumb across his cheekbone. His eyes slowly open and you’re staring into him—it’s the same look in your eyes the first moment he met you. Kind, welcoming, hopeful. 

“Baby,” he repeats with a sigh. “Why do you think I’ve spent my entire life alone, hm?”

“Maybe we break that curse then, don’t you think?” Gently, you lean in and press a soft kiss on his lips. “I’d spend the rest of my days helping you realize how good of a man you are. You didn’t choose this life, I know that,” you sigh. “But you’ve always tried to do good.” 

You can see his own eyes begin to glisten. You lean forward, forehead pressing against his own as you feel his other hand move to your other hip. “I love you,” you whisper. “But you can’t walk out on me because you think I deserve better. You cannot make that decision for me.” 

Logan doesn’t say anything because he knows you’re right—you always are. “I’m only trying to look out for you, baby.” 

“I know,” you whisper. “But you told me everything before we even got to this point in our relationship and I chose to stay. This is me choosing to stay again.” 

“Why?” Logan asks honestly. 

“Because you’re worth it.” You answer. “And because my life is better with you in it.” 

Logan stares into your eyes, trying to see how true it is. He feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight of you. Your gaze doesn’t falter—you don’t look away. It’s a soft look in your eyes and almost pleading for him to see what you see. Then, a tear slides down his cheek because for once, Logan feels like he belongs—this, here, with you… it’s where he was always meant to be. 

He leans in and gently pecks your lips. “Okay, bub.” Logan whispers. “Okay.” 

And now, Logan’s determination has shifted into looking for a way to get healthy again…For you. 

[jessthebaker]

By the Gods

This is for the gorgeous @beefrobeefcal 's Half Bricked, Wrong Time February Prompt Challenge!

I've never written for Oberyn before, this is barely titled, no beta, minimal editing, I don't know if it's crack or serious or both, but I'm yeeting this out into the world and running away again. Enjoy!

word count 1.6k

rating: Mature (duh, it's Oberyn)

“Oh, Seven, not again.” Oberyn mutters as he opens his email and sees a message from HR waiting for him. It’s right at the very top, with the little red exclamation marks to denote High Importance. Oberyn hates those exclamation marks. They only seem to turn up when he’s done something that he deems (personally) perfectly appropriate. But HR never seems to think so.

The head of HR is a man Oberyn loathes but can’t seem to get away from. Oberyn doesn’t hate his job, rather he quite likes it. He likes what he does and he’s good at it. But dealing with HR is another story.

The HR manager, Ty Lane, is an older man with a bad case of resting grump face. He constantly looked as if, if he wore glasses, he’d be glaring at you over the top of them. Quietly, Oberyn thinks Ty looks like an angry, elderly lion.

Oberyn sighs as he skims over the details of Ty’s email. Date, time, place, all the usual. Current infraction: ‘Inappropriate workplace relations’. What else was new? Oberyn has a feeling he knows which particular circumstance this one was referencing.

Last week he had been daydreaming at his desk when he noticed you walking past his cubicle. Of course he noticed you. He found you incredibly attractive; the way you walked, the confidence with which you moved, the defiance in your eyes that said “I’m here and if you don’t like it, fuck off.” Oberyn appreciated confidence.

You were fairly new in the office. He hadn’t seen you around before about last month, yet you had already made a name for yourself though with the quality of the work you turned in. The management were impressed with your quiet efficiency and the way you didn’t overtly call attention to yourself. But somehow you demanded respect and by the gods, you got it.

On this particular occasion, he couldn’t take his eyes off your ass. You’d caught him staring, given him a wink and a little extra swish of your hips as you passed.

So how could anybody reasonably blame Oberyn for admiring such a perfect specimen of a human ass? Yours was perfect. He had to get a better look. You had practically told him to look.

And yet, apparently someone blamed him for looking. Because now he has that damned email from Ty Lane sitting in his inbox, waiting for that Read Receipt, confirming his appearance at the next mandatory workplace training.

He clicks Accept with another sigh. Then he gathers his thoughts for the rest of his workday.

At the appointed day and time, Oberyn finds himself sitting in a half-circle made of uncomfortably straight-backed chairs with a few other co-workers who, he supposed, had been dobbed in for similar infractions as he was. And...you. Why in the Mother’s name were YOU in here too? Oberyn’s mind wandered as he let himself imagine the myriad reasons you might have been called into this awful torture session.

Mr Lane was droning through his PowerPoint presentation detailing all those things you were and weren’t supposed to do in the workplace. And all the things you were and weren’t supposed to do with your coworkers. And...was that...was that? Celine Dion’s voice singing as background music?

Where does my heart beat now? Where is the sound That only echoes through the night?

Oberyn is trying to pay attention, he really is. His mind wanders again. To you. You’re just so...sexy. Confident. So perfect. So sultry as you just go about your day. The unwitting reason he’s in this room in the first place. He tries to keep his eyes to himself, but he can’t resist glancing over at you for a peek. Fuck. You’re openly watching him, not even trying to be subtle. You give Oberyn a wink and flick your eyes forward again. Pretending to pay attention to Ty’s boring slideshow.

Next time Oberyn looks over to you, he’s ready. You’re looking at him again and this time, he drops you a wink of his own. He sees your cheeks darken slightly and your eyes flash momentarily.

Where does my heart beat now? I can't live without, without feeling it inside I've need someone to give my heart to

Oberyn’s imagination strolls off again at what you might be thinking about. He only comes back to himself as he hears someone saying his name. Mr Lane. It sounds as if it’s not the first time he’s said it. Shit.

Oberyn senses a dreadful feeling of his pants growing tight. And he feels the unmistakeable tingling of his cock making itself known.

I feel it getting stronger and stronger and stronger, yeah And I feel inside Hearts are made to last till the end of time

His cock is definitely growing harder and he can feel it pulsing to the beat of Celine’s song. Shit.

Ty is speaking now. “Mr Martell, would you join us to role-play out the scenario we’ve been discussing. Please come up to the front. Your partner will be --” and he said the worst possible choice for partner: your name.

Oberyn’s brain stops briefly. His cock is at full mast and he knows it’ll be visible through the soft linen pants he prefers to wear. There’s no way he should be standing up right now, in front of a room full of people at a fucking sexual harassment meeting of all times. With YOU.

He puts on his most sincere face and attempts sanity. “Mr Lane, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Ty’s eyes narrow. “Oberyn, you are here and participation is mandatory. Get up here.”

“Mr Lane….being reasonable, this isn’t something you really want me to do right now.”

“Martell. NOW.”

Oberyn sighs. “Alright. Just remember, this is what you wanted.”

He stands and walks to the space at the front of the room. Ty’s attention has turned to you now as you walk up to join Oberyn, so he misses seeing the obvious tent in Oberyn’s pants. As you and Oberyn reach the front together and turn to face your audience, a gasp breaks the silence and a few snorts erupt from those watching. Oberyn’s mouth half-lifts up in a smirk.

Ty is not having it.

“People, we are all adults and we are here for a reason. Settle down, please. You two,” He gestures to the two of you with an exasperated wave of his hand. “continue. Now.”

In the scenario you and Oberyn are attempting to recreate, one employee is making unwanted advances toward the co-worker. The other is supposed to be shutting it down and ending the interaction before reporting it to HR. Oberyn expected he would be taking the role of the unwanted aggressor, given his reputation, but you surprise him by immediately starting with that role. Forcing him to take the receiving role.

“Well, hell-oooo gorgeous, how have I never seen YOU around here before? Where have you been hiding this incredible body?” You step closer and riffle the collar of his shirt, which (as usual) was barely hanging on to his shoulders due to its missing top three buttons.

He’s stunned. He can’t tell if you’re just a very good actor, or if you’re being serious. He hopes it’s the latter. His cock desperately adds its vote for the latter too.

Ty is silently shooting daggers at Oberyn as he tries to catch up and deliver his expected lines. “uh, why, hello, I don’t really -”

You continue as if he hadn’t said a word, and take another step closer. “You know, it’s really a shame we don’t work in the same department. We could be spending a lot - more - time - together,” as your first two fingers walk down the front of his buttonband and pause just above his waistband.

Oberyn didn’t think it was possible but his cock is growing even harder. You’re up close in his space, he can smell the scent of your hair, and the gleam in your eyes is practically shouting at him to bed you. He’s so hard it aches. He can’t think straight. What have you done to him? He’s supposed to be the office rogue, but here you are practically fucking him with your eyes in front of a room full of people.

He takes a breath. Finds his control. Takes a step back and grasps your hand and gently moves it back down to your side.

He says the lines expected of him, “This is neither the time nor the place, and I’m afraid you are making me uncomfortable. Please stop.” His voice is serious, but his eyes are locked with yours in flirtatious challenge. His hand is still holding yours and he’s making no effort to let go now that the act is over.

You’ve both fallen silent, standing stock-still, your eyes are still locked onto each other. A frission passes between you and suddenly the tension ebbs as Ty’s voice floats out as if from a distance. “Finally, thank you. You may sit down now.”

You and Oberyn startle back to your senses with Ty’s voice. Your glance flickers down at Oberyn’s crotch and his cock jumps in response. Oberyn squeezes your hand with another smirk. You take the obvious invitation and practically drag Oberyn out the door by the hand. You’ve both bolted so quickly that the door slams and bangs back open, swaying with the breeze of your passing.

Ty stares after you, dumbfounded, while the remaining participants in the room are giggling and whispering amongst themselves.

Poor Mr Lane. He can’t decide whether to follow you both and start proceedings now, or let you get it out of your systems first. He shakes his head and shuffles his paperwork before sighing to himself, “fucking Martells.”

[straykidsnerd255]

Genre: fluff, a little angst(but you have to squint to see it)

Song: that’s the way it is-Celine Dion 

Rating: PG leaning to PG-13

Warning(s): Jin Woo cursing, pardon any grammatical errors I wrote this last night and was very tired.

Summary: Jin Woo is seething. Not only is he the newest National Rank Hunter, but people don’t seem to get the hint that he is happily taken. He has made multiple comments on live tv about having a girlfriend but people still don’t seem to get it. So, Jin Woo makes a drastic choice and asks you to marry him, on live tv, at a national hunters conference. 

Word Count: 4091

Sung Jin Woo was livid. If anyone asked, yes, you can see the steam pouring from his ears. His arms were crossed over his chest as he listened to this man babble on and on about his single daughter. Jin Woo just wanted to go home. He had had a long day and all he wanted to was be at home, eating your food, and curling up against you. He was tired and irate and didn’t want to talk to anyone. However, this old geezer just wouldn’t take the hint. The impatient tapping of Jin Woo’s foot meant nothing to this man. The fact Jin Woo was constantly looking at his watch didn’t even bother the man. Taking a deep breath, Jin Woo pulled out his phone and pulled up your contact. 

“I think you would love my daughter. She would be the perfect housewife for you. She can cook, she’ll clean the house, and even take care of the children if you so desire to have them. And I must insist that you do have children.” Jin Woo finally snapped. “Look, I’m not and will never marry your daughter. I don’t know her, and quite frankly, I don’t want to know her. I have been dating a lovely woman since I was 19. I don’t plan on breaking up with her any time soon.” Jin Woo snarled, his eyes narrowing as the old man began to get defensive. “My daughter would most certainly be better than the one you are dating. My daughter comes from wealth!” The man was cut off by Jin Woo’s glare darkening. 

“I don’t care about wealth. I don’t give two flying shits about anything you or your daughter may have. I won’t marry your daughter. End. Of. Story.” Jin Woo hissed and turned on his heel walking away from the man as he screamed. Could people not tell that Jin Woo was happily in love with his girlfriend? Or was it the fact that Jin Woo was named the newest National Hunter that made people begin to throw their daughters at his feet for him to marry. Snoring, Jin Woo climbed into his car and turned it on, allowing the AC to blast his very much too warm skin. With a sigh, Jin Woo put the car in drive and took off for home. 

As he parked the car, his phone began to ring. Feeling the vein in his head about to burst, he cleared his throat and answered the phone. A different voice could be heard but Jin Woo knew all too well what that person wanted. “Have you considered marrying my daughter Mr. Sung?” The male's voice on the other end was almost mocking him. Daring him to even consider saying no. “I have. I will not marry your daughter. I have no purpose in marrying her and have no desire to marry her.” Jin Woo’s voice held power as he spoke. The silence on the other end of the phone was beautiful. Jin Woo grinned to himself as he heard the man sputter out retorts but never fully finished them as Jin Woo had enough and hung up. 

As he entered his home, a man from outside yelled out to him. Jin Woo stood at the door trying his hardest not to scream. He clenched and unclenched his fist before turning around with a forced smile. “What can I do for you?” He asked through gritted teeth. “I would love for you to meet my daughter. She would be the perfect wife for you. She never stopped talking about you when she saw you on the news after becoming the newest National Rank Hunter.” Jin Woo, by now, was seething. “No. I don’t want to meet your daughter. I don’t even want to date your daughter. I have a girlfriend. Please leave me the hell alone.” Jin Woo snapped, turning on his heels and walking into his house, slamming the door behind him. Groaning, Jin Woo slipped out of his shoes, sighing in relief when he was able to slip his aching feet into slippers. 

“Jin Woo? Is that you my love?” Your voice sounded like music to his ears. He trudged towards the kitchen, his muscles nearly giving out when he sees you. Your hair pulled up in a loose bun, the earrings he had given to you on your 3rd anniversary, and the necklace he had bought you when he was in America for a few days. “Yeah, its me.” Jin Woo’s voice was scratchy, and sore from the yelling he had done in the dungeon and outside the dungeon. You walk out of the kitchen and towards your boyfriend. Seeing the look in his eyes, you place the cook book down and rush to him. “My love, what’s wrong? You look like you are about to explode any minute from now.” You whispered, helping him take his jacket off and gently pushing him to the couch. 

He groaned as his body melted into the couch. Before you could turn and leave, Jin Woo’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, gently not wanting to hurt you. He pulled you into his lap and buried his nose into your neck, closing his eyes and breathing in your perfume. Your fingers immediately combed through his hair, pushing it back. “You want to tell me about it?” You asked, leaning down and littering kisses along his jaw before pressing your lips against his. He hummed into the kiss before pulling away and sighing. “Ever since I became the newest Nation Rank Hunter, everyone is so damn obsessed with getting their daughter married off to me. Its annoying. I was tired, in pain, and just wanted to come home to you.” Jin Woo said, opening his eyes that he hadn’t realized he closed. His eyes began glowing as he remembered the three different times he had been stopped. 

You ran your fingers through his hair again, effectively calming him down. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that. You shouldn’t have too.” You mumbled, laying down so your chest was flush to Jin Woo’s, and your arms wrapped snugly around his neck.  His arms immediately wrapped around you and held you close. “Can we just order takeout and watch a cheesy romance comedy?” Jin Woo asked, giving you his best puppy eyes. You immediately caved, nodding your head. Jin Woo smiled against your neck before planting a kiss against your throat and sitting up, taking you with him. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he stood from the couch and walked to your shared bedroom. Placing you on the ground, his hands dropped to your waist as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours. “Get in pj’s and I’ll call our favorite takeout place.” He said, leaving the room and grabbing his phone. As he plugged in the number for the takeout place, his phone lit up with another call. 

Jin Woo felt like destroying the whole world at this point. Beru; the ever concerned shadow, popped up, eyeing the phone. “My liege, would you like me to find and kill them?” As tempting as that was to Jin Woo, he shook his head and answered the phone. “What the hell do you want?” He asked, uncaring of who he was talking to. “I don’t think that is any way to talk to your future father in law.” The voice was slowly eating away at Jin Woo’s resolve. “I would like to formally let you know that we have planned your wedding with our daughter. The paperwork is in order and everything is set.” Jin Woo rubbed his temple as he tried his hardest not to snap at the man on the other end of the phone. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jin Woo finally snapped. “I don’t care if you are waiting for me at the altar. Hell will freeze over before I marry someone else that isn’t my girlfriend. I have said this time and time again, I already am happily in a relationship. I have been dating my current girlfriend for 5 years. I’m not breaking up with her. Goodbye.” Jin Woo hit the red button, ending the call just as you walked into the living room.

He took a moment to admire you. The way you let your hair down out of the bun, your bare face, the sparkle in your eyes. The way the pj’s he bought you last Christmas still fit you. He immediately shuffled towards you and placed his hands on your waist, gently swaying to the side. “You are just so beautiful.” He whispered. A blush forming on your cheeks as you buried your face in his chest. He chuckled, a deep, husky chuckle that sent your heart fluttering. “Let me order the takeout and you can pick the movie.” Jin Woo whispered, gently pulling away from you and leading you to the couch. Beru, the cheeky shadow, appeared next to you on the couch, his eyes big and filled with sparkles. “My queen, its been so long since I last spoke to you. How are you fairing?” Beru had always been one of your favorite shadows, Bellion and Igris taking the top spot. You smiled and jumped into telling Beru everything about your day.  Jin Woo couldn’t help but smile softly as he dialed the takeout place’s number. He ordered the usual and added a few more things for the both of you to try. Ending the call, Jin Woo joined you on the couch, pulling you into his chest as you continued to talk to Beru. These are the night’s Jin Woo craves every morning. 

{A Week Later}

Jin Woo groans in annoyance as you finish tying the dark purple tie. “Stop it. This is an important event that you need and have to go to. Its where they announce you as a National Rank Hunter to the rest of the world.” You said as you fussed over his suit and tie. As you did, Jin Woo could only stare at you. The black sleeveless dress hugged your curves just right, showing them off. The slit in the dress rose to your thigh but Jin Woo would be covering your legs with his suit jacket. He didn’t want anyone looking at you like that. The diamond necklace he bought for this event sat against your chest, the light bouncing off it. The diamond dangle earrings spun and jumped as you moved your head around. But what really made his heart skip was the way your hair was done. His mother and sister took the time to get it ready but he was floored. It was simply curled, laced with white and black beads that were sectioned off in braids at the side of your head, and pulled into the cleanest and most beautiful looking bun he had ever seen. It seemed to accentuate the soft look of your face.  

“You’re staring again, my love.” You said, a smile breaking out on your lips. You gently pat his chest once you have finished fixing his suit and tie. He smiles down at you before leaning down, silently asking you for a kiss. You happily lean forward and press your lips to his. Seeking that warmth and desperation from him as he dives deeper into the kiss, ultimately leaving you breathing less and heaving for air. Jin Woo chuckled before holding his arm out for you. You grabbed the hand purse and linked your arm with Jin Woo. When Jin Woo reserved the letter in the mail a few days into his time off, he immediately asked you to go with him. He didn’t want to attend if it meant that you couldn’t go with him. As you both walked to the car, Jin Woo was reluctant to let you go, making you giggle. “I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered, watching as he nodded his head, helped you into the car and nearly tripped getting over to the driver's side. You rolled your eyes but you loved him anyway. As Jin Woo started the car, “That’s the way it is” by Celine Dion blared through the speakers. You forgot you had your phone connected to the speaker since you last used this car.

Jin Woo looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “Did you use my car while I was out on a mission using the jeep?” He asked, a sly smile appearing on his lips. You clasped your hands in your lap and tried not to look at him but the moment you felt his finger and thumb on your chin you were done for. “Yes. I’m sorry. I just really wanted to drive it and it automatically connected my Bluetooth to the car. I’m really sorry, love!” You said, I shed tears starting to form, you watched as Jin Woo’s eyes locked onto the tears and his mouth opened before closing. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t expect you to stay at home the entire 2 weeks I was gone. I purposefully left this car for you.” He said, smiling and giving off a playful wink as he pulled the car into drive and headed towards the event. Driving the more scenic roots to the event gave Jin Woo time to just bask in the moment with you. He drove with his left hand as his right hand was occupied with holding your hand. Rubbing his thumb over your hand as you called out what you saw. Reaching the event, Jin Woo mentally prepared himself to fight off anyone that tried to ask him about marrying their daughters. His left hand reached into the suit pocket, feeling the box that sat in the pocket made his heart leap to his throat before falling to his stomach giving him butterflies. You tugged his hand gently and pointed towards the table full of deserts you had never tried before. He chuckled and allowed you to lead him to the table, pointing out what he wanted to try and letting you pick what you wanted to try. 

“Ah, there he is! The man of the hour!” Thomas Andre’s loud boisterous voice filled the hall and Jin Woo practically cringed. “I see you brought your lady. Its a pleasure to meet you again Y/n.” Thomas said, bowing to you and smiling when you got flustered. The three of you made small talk and a few more National Ranked hunters joined the small talking circle before a few older men walked over and interrupted. They all but pushed themselves between you and Jin Woo, nearly knocking you to the ground if it wasn’t for Thomas Andre standing right there to make sure you didn’t fall on the ground. His eyes narrowed as he watched those men start bombarding Jin Woo with demands that he marry one of their daughters. Thomas could see the rage boiling over when Jin Woo snapped his fingers and his shadow army all but forced the people surrounding Jin Woo to back away.  “Stop asking me to marry your daughters. Its getting on my damn nerves. I can’t do shit without one of you showing up and demanding I marry your daughter. I’m not a damn puppet. I will marry who I want to marry and there is not a damn thing anyone can do. If you try, I will make sure you burn to the ground before you can even do anything to me. I already have a girl in my life and I refuse to break up with her.” Jin Woo snapped, walking past from those men to you. 

He noticed the cameras that had been sweeping over the event were on him.  Smiling, he took your hands in his before he slowly bent his knee. Your eyes widened in shock before the tears began to fill your eyes. “Jin Woo.” You whispered. Everyone became silent as he pulled out the ring box, holding it towards you so you could see the ring. It was not extravagant but it was enough to show people that you were his. “Y/n, I have been wanting to get on one knee for the last three years of our relationship. I have wanted nothing more than for you to be by my side the rest of my life. For me to cherish. For me to love unconditionally. For you to be my wife and the mother of our children. For me to be your husband and the father of our children. I couldn’t see any other women in my life but you. So please, Will you spend your forever with me?” Jin Woo wanted to cringe at the last sentence he muttered but the force of your body against his made him quite thinking as his body moved on its own to catch the both of you from falling.

 “Yes Jin Woo. Yes, I will marry you.” You said, holding his face into your hands before pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss. Jin Woo smiled into the kiss before pulling away and standing up with you in his arms. Taking the ring from the box, Jin Woo slipped it onto your finger and everyone burst into cheers and clapping. The men from before glared at the scene before turning and leaving the event. Jin Woo couldn’t be more happier to see them leave. The event continued like normal, with the occasional congratulations from National Rank Hunters or S rank hunters alike. Even business men and women congratulated the two on their announcement. Jin Woo, now content, held your hand as you both stood off to the side chatting with Thomas and Liu Zhigang. Jin Woo just tuned the event out as he watched you. The sparkle in your eyes, the beautiful laugh. He was so happy to finally call you his. 

{Day of the Wedding}

Sung Jin Woo stood at the altar, his mind going blank. Jinho patted his back and gave him an encouraging smile. “You got this brother. This is your moment. You get to spend your life with her.” His words seemed to boost Jin Woo up a bit. Smiling, he thanked Jinho before everyone went silent as the music began to play. Jin Woo felt his eyes fill with tears as you appeared. The veil hanging over your face, fluttering in the breeze. Your hair is done up in curls, with pieces of hair pinned back. Your make up was light and looked almost airy. You wear the necklace he had given to you when he was in America, making his heart flutter. The dress, oh the dress. It hugged your figure beautifully. It showed off the curves and dips in your body all while making you look like a goddess. When you were in front of him, he couldn’t help but look over at you. Everything was falling into place. His life before he met you was a nightmare. 

Now, he didn’t have to face those nightmares alone, because now he had you. Because now, he had your gentle touches, your soft voice filling his head to calm him. He had your smell all around him. Even in his phone from three years ago, he had your contact as “My wife someday ❤ ️”. He was a truly smitten man. Holding his hands out so you could follow suit and take his hands as well. Jin Woo couldn’t even remember any of the wedding as he was too enamored by you. “You may now kiss this bride.” The priest said, stepping back as he said those words. Jin Woo pressed his lips to yours, happy when he heard the cheering and clapping of the crowd. Pulling away, Jin Woo chuckled and looked at you with a smile on his face. “Finally, I can call you Mrs. Sung.” He muttered so only you could hear him. 

You looked at him like he hung the stars. Jin Woo intertwined his fingers with yours before you both turned to the crowd. You both bowed to everyone before lifting your hands in the air and smiling. The reception was a blast. You and Jin Woo were the center of attention from everyone. Thomas and a few other National Rank Hunters stood outside the house watching for anyone that would be trying to destroy this day for Jin Woo, and boy did a lot of people show up. Thomas Andre was annoyed but refused to let them enter the house. “You can’t just keep us out here! Sung Jin Woo has some explaining to do. He promised us that he would marry our daughter!” A man yelled trying to shove his way past the hunters. 

“You and I both know that is a lie. Sung Jin Woo has been annoyed since the moment he got his first invite to propose to someone's daughter. Quite acting like he owes you anything when he never did anything for you or your family in the first place. So, turn around and get the hell out of here. You are not wanted, Jin Woo has nothing to do with you. He is living the happiest day of his life right now and I will be damned if you go in there and ruin it for him.” Thomas hissed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the man. “It will simply be a moment. I just want to know why he would marry someone like her and not my daughter.” The man said. Before Thomas could say anything, Sung Jin Woo walked out of the house, pissed beyond belief. “Ah Sung Jin Woo, I just wanted…” Jin Woo glared at the man effectively shutting him up. 

“I am going to make one thing clear. I am NOT marrying your daughter. Get that stupid shit out of your mind. I am a married man now. I am off the market. Do I make myself clear?” Jin Woo wasn’t allowing anything to try and fiddle with his new life. He looked at the people gathered in front of his house wanting to ask him to marry their daughters. One of the businesswomen opened her mouth to counter but Jin Woo shut her down. “If you expect me to divorce my wife then you have another thing coming. Ask me again and I will end your sorry excuse of a life. Do you understand?” He snarled, his eyes beginning to glow a dark purple in anger. He watched as the group of people left, making sure they were completely gone before releasing a breath. Thomas patted his shoulder. “Go back in there. We can handle it out here.” He spoke. Jin Woo nodded his head before making his way back to the front door. Hours passed by the time the last person left. Jin Woo was all partied out and all he wanted to do was lay in bed with his wife. 

Sluggishly, Jin Woo made his way to his bedroom and found you all ready for bed and under the covers reading a book when he entered. You watched your husband change out of his clothes and into pj’s before he practically flopped into bed. He whined and shimmied around before finding the right spot. His head laying in your lap while covered in the blankets. You giggled before your hand lifted from its spot and you ran your fingers through his hair. “Was today everything you had ever wanted?” You asked, watching your husband’s eyes close in bliss as you scratched his head.

“Yes. Everything was what I wanted.” He mumbled, turning to his side and burying his face in your stomach. He nuzzled closer, humming happily when your nails scratched near the base of his neck. Jin Woo’s arms wrapped around your waist listening to you talk about the day. When sleep was creeping closer, Jin Woo lifted himself up with his hands. He was a few inches from your face, but a dopey smile appeared on his lips. “Shall we go to sleep?” He asked. You smiled and nodded your head, placing the bookmark in your book and placing it on your desk before turning back to Jin Woo. He wrapped his arms around you and tugged you into his chest as he fell against the pillow. “Goodnight love.” You whispered, your eyes starting to grow heavy. “Good night darling.” Jin Woo replied before he too fell asleep with you in his arms and a ring on his finger.

[petalsnow]

divine & mine (18+)

hyunjin x afab!reader x felix

word count: 3.7k

genre: smut, fluff - 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!

18+ content and smut warnings below the cut.

warnings: non-idol au, marriage au, intended lower-case usage, poly!relationship between reader, hyunjin, & felix, threesome, swearing, alcohol consumption, oral sex (reader & felix receiving), unprotected sex (don't do this), cumming inside (don't do this), impreg kink, praise kink, small mommy kink, dom/sub dynamics, confessions of love.. i think that covers everything, let me know if i missed something!

summary: you decide to celebrate your third wedding anniversary by having a romantic picnic with lots of wine and two horny husbands.

this is a fictional story. nothing in this fan-fiction represents hyunjin, felix, or stray kids as a whole. NOR does it represent their relationships with each other.

read at your own risk.

____

three years have passed since your wedding day. over one thousand days of being cared for and adored by both of your partners.

you had met hyunjin first, he was a regular at the same library you attended every monday, wednesday, and friday. he was a stranger, but he made sure that didn’t last. as each day passed, his stolen glances grew more frequent and his proximity grew closer and closer until you both could be spotted at the same table, quietly bickering over the novel you were both reading.

it wasn’t long after that hyunjin mustered up the courage to ask you out. the library was rigidly silent before hyunjin came out with it, “would you like to come over for dinner tonight? i’ve been dying to try this pasta recipe but it feeds two and i hate leftovers.” his face turning a pale shade of red before everting his gaze from yours.

naturally, you accepted and the rest was history. you two were shamelessly in love ever since.

you two had been together for a year before you met felix for the first time.

you and hyunjin met felix during a night out at a local bar. it was karaoke night and you had enough liquid courage to storm the main stage and sing your heart out to the lyrics of “My Heart Will Go On” by celine dion. Hyunjin admired you from the table you were both sitting at beforehand, sipping on an espresso martini. to his left, stood a blonde-headed boy who was smaller than him, sipping on a beer with his group of friends. The boy was thoroughly entertained by your performance, his laugh like silk as you made a fool out of yourself.

“she’s amazing” he said to his friend, but loud enough for hyunjin to hear, which made him shift his focus from you to the younger boy.

when hyunjin laid his eyes on felix for the first time, his first thought was how beautiful he was. He quickly took note of the freckles that dusted his cheeks, and his light brown eyes.

“after she comes down, you should totally ask her out” felix’s friend suggests with a smirk and a playful shove. felix couldn’t help but giggle and nod.

“she’s mine.” hyunjin spoke up, setting his cocktail down on the table. felix snapped his head in the direction of his voice, his face full of fear.

“oh, mate, i had no idea.. i wouldn’t have said anything if i had known.” he shook his head and pled his case.

“relax, there’s no way you could’ve known.” hyunjin broke his hard facade with a polite half smile. “come sit.” he gestured to the empty chair across from him.

felix visibly gulped and slid into the chair.

“what’s your name?” hyunjin asked, leaning forward to hear over the music.

“felix.. lee felix” the blonde replied quickly.

“hyunjin,” he said, holding his hand out for a truce.

felix met his hand and shook gently with an awkward nod.

“i like you.” hyunjin admitted

felix had a look of confusion painted across his face.

“i think you’re cute.”

“.. but didn’t you just say..”

“we’re open.”

felix still didn’t understand.

“we have an open relationship, and i think you’re cute” hyunjin clarified.

felix choked on his beer.

“oh, um..” he wasn’t sure how to respond.

before hyunjin could continue, you were stumbling back over to the table.

“hey baby!!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around hyunjin’s neck. “i missed you” you giggled drunkenly.

hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh as he placed an arm around your waist.

“this is felix, we just made friends.” hyunjin said, turning you slightly to face the timid boy.

“hi” felix almost whimpered, offering a small wave.

“y/n, nice to meet you phoenix” you replied with a toothy smile.

“oh, that’s not-“ felix started before hyunjin interrupted him

“i was just asking if felix wanted to come home with us tonight, what do you think angel?” he asked, tucking a small piece of hair behind your ear.

immediately, you knew where this was headed and the realization was mildly sobering.

you looked back over at felix, taking him in completely this time, before looking back at your boyfriend.

“that sounds lovely.” you answered sweetly. “what do you think, freckles?” you cocked your head at felix.

felix looked absolutely mortified, like a deer in headlights. Nevertheless, he slid out of his chair and looked between both of you

“let’s get out of here.”

That was over three years ago, and today you are all celebrating your third wedding anniversary.

The whole thing was hyunjin and felix’s idea, they were truly the most lovesick pair you had ever seen. they were almost frantic in your kitchen, shoving expensive wine into the picnic basket and perfecting the charcuterie board for your date.

you had just finished getting ready, a flowy, snug fit sundress and a head full of loose curls. little did you know you were walking into a disaster of a kitchen.

“guys what the fuck happened in here? it looks like a tornado flew around the kitchen.” you gasped, looking at the mess they had made in preparation for your celebration.

felix was boxing up the last few finger foods before waltzing over to you to place a kiss on your temple.

“don’t worry about any of this, me and hyune will clean it up whenever we get back, mkay?” he reassured you, filling his arms with food and drinks to bring to the car.

you grinned and shook your head before reaching out to grab some of the load, but hyunjin yanked it from your grasp.

“what do you think you’re doing? what kind of husband makes his wife carry her own anniversary gift?” he looked viscerally offended. “go wait in the car my love” he cracked, shooting you a dashing smile and a wink.

you playfully pinched his hip as he brushed past you before heading to the car like you were instructed. felix was waiting outside of the car with the door ajar, waiting to help you inside with an out stretched hand.

“wow, so formal today.” you smirked, taking his hand and climbing into the car.

“always the best for our princess.” he smiled, waiting for you to get comfortable, before gently closing the door.

____

the ride was long, but only because your date was a picnic in a secluded field of flowers.

whenever you arrived, hyunjin and felix worked quickly to lay a large quilted blanket down and set up your lunch.

you thanked them for everything before sitting down between them.

you ate together and emptied wine glass after wine glass. you talked of the past and of the future, and of how much you adored one another.

“i bet if we had kids they’d look exactly like me and have y/nnie’s attitude.” hyunjin teased, propping himself up on his side while plucking grapes off their vine. He delicately placed one in each of your mouths.

“hey, what is that supposed to mean?” you gasped with your mouth full of grapes and slapped his arm playfully.

“it just means they’d be so kind and so sweet and so perfect and not sarcastic, short-tempered, or sassy at all!!” felix mocked as you landed another playful slap, now into his arm.

“you’re one to talk” you rolled your eyes as the laughter died down slowly

“in my defense, i only have an attitude around you guys if i’m trying to have it fucked out of me.” felix shrugged nonchalantly, causing both you and hyunjin to grow wide-eyed and cough at his suddenly bold statement.

“jesus, lix” hyunjin placed a hand over his mouth, trying his best to finish his last bite of food

“at least he’s honest” you added, resting back on your palms

felix blushed smugly at your reactions before picking the original conversation back up

“i would love to have children one day..” he added with shyness laced in his voice

you and hyunjin’s attention shifted to him at the sudden seriousness

“you would?” you asked sweetly

felix nodded, toying with a blade of grass near his hand

you looked over at your other husband, who then looked back at you. you weren’t sure why, but these kinds of conversations always made it difficult for you to navigate. Although you all loved one another equally, whenever it came to the discussion of starting a family, the reality of things had to be faced. Hyunjin, knowing how you are, spoke up first.

“let’s have a baby then,” he said before taking another sip of wine.

this made your heart race as you looked between both of them.

“but-“ you began and felix cut you off this time.

“i don’t care who the father is. The way i see it, we’re all three connected and we would all love the baby the same regardless.” felix offered, trying to soothe your anxious state.

you took a deep breath as the tension built upon itself.

“i’m sorry, i just wasn’t really expected to talk about this today. I apologize for my hesitation. Of course, I would love to have children with you, but only if we’re all sure.”

hyunjin and felix chuckled, sitting up.

“i don’t think we’re ever been more sure of anything in our lives, angel” hyunjin smiled before placing a tender kiss to your lips and running his hand up your thigh.

felix wasn’t far behind him, moving your hair to place an open-mouth kiss to the side of your neck as you sat in between the two men.

you closed your eyes in pleasure, melting into their touches. as hyunjin left your lips you spoke up

“what, are you guys going to knock me up in this field?” you laughed sarcastically, waiting for them to catch on. Instead, the two boys turned their attention to each other with twin calculating looks in their eyes and then back over to you.

“yes,” they said in unison, hyunjin returning to your lips and felix back to your neck.

you moaned into hyunjin’s mouth at the realization and instinctively parted your legs ever so slightly.

even though the movement was quaint, felix took note and moved his hand up your inner thigh gently as he kissed down your collarbone.

“may i?” felix broke the silence, fingers dancing dangerously close to your panties.

hyunjin broke the heated kiss at his question.

“what do you say, pretty girl?” he glanced at felix, and back into your pleading eyes.

“please,” you whined, opening your legs more for felix to fit in between and get to work.

felix hummed and tugged your lace panties down your legs, discarding them nearby. Bring his mouth to your heat, kissing your clit softly to let you know he was starting.

your breath hitched in your throat as hyunjin moved to support you from behind, your back resting against his chest as you got comfortable.

“that’s it, baby, relax” hyunjin cooed in your ear, running his hand up your side.

felix wasted no time licking away at your cunt. his arms were wrapped around your thighs, his thumb rubbing at your clit.

eating you out had to be felix’s favorite thing to do. he could spend all day pleasing you, hearing you cry out for him.

your wetness was dripping down his chin and he loved how filthy it made him feel.

“you taste so sweet” he groaned, entranced by you and the way you responded to him. he moved one hand from your thigh and brought two fingers up your heat, running them down to collect some lubrication.

“look at that, you’re in for a treat darling.” hyunjin half-whispered into your ear, brushing the straps of your dress off your shoulders to allow him access to your breasts.

felix blushed at his husband’s comment before dipping the first finger into your pussy.

felix slowly pumped his finger in and out of you while hyunjin pushed your dress down to reveal your chest. he hummed at his success and began toying with your nipple between his slender fingers.

your back arched at the new sensation and it caused you to clench around felix’s fingers.

“feel good?” hyunjin questioned, pinching your nipple gently.

“fuck, yes. you both feel so amazing.” you whimpered out, clinging to the picnic blanket that laid underneath all of you.

felix had resumed eating you out, adding another finger to fuck into you, growing more eager by the second.

hyunjin brought one of his hands up to his mouth to spit into his palm before bringing it back down over your nipple, swirling the saliva over the sensitive bud.

“hyunjin…” you sighed blissfully, arching your back into his touch.

felix had completely zeroed in on your cunt, fucking his fingers into you at a steady pace while lapping at your clit

“i need you to cum on my face” felix whined desperately, only detaching himself long enough to utter the one sentence.

you groaned at his words and hyunjin’s massage

“i’m close” you mewled, knuckles growing white from your tightening grip

“let go for us, be a good girl.” hyunjin cooed, never ceasing his movements.

that’s all it took for you to twitch and release all over felix’s fingers and his face. He wasted no time licking up anything that missed him and left a trail of kisses across your lower half.

“fuck, that was so hot” felix growled, sitting up between your legs.

“let me taste her.” hyunjin ordered, gripping the young boy by the back of his head and crashing their lips together.

You watched as your husbands made out just above your head, the remnants of your release dripping down from their lips and onto your bare chest.

you always had a lingering sense of guilt, for no reason that you could pinpoint. Both of them catered to you more than they catered to each other, and that always made you feel a little strange. you always hoped they weren’t sacrificing anything to be in this kind of relationship. But it was times like these, watching them melt into each other's touch, that you felt your heart swell, and you could relax, knowing they loved each other, too.

the kiss ended and hyunjin moved out from behind you to face you now.

“you ready for us, doll?” hyunjin asked softly, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

you nodded as felix removed his shirt and began undoing his pants to slip them off.

“words, y/n” hyunjin reminded you, waiting patiently for your approval to remove his clothes

“always ready for you.” you smiled, tugging on the hem of hyunjin’s shirt and he wasted no time removing it over his head and then discarding his pants as well.

felix helped you lie down on your back while hyunjin positioned himself between your legs and felix positioned himself behind your head.

“you okay if i use your mouth while hyunjin fucks you?” felix asked softly, stroking his hard cock.

“of course, lixie wanna taste you.” you nod and lean your head back to make it easier on him.

he blushed at the nickname and looked at hyunjin.

“you can start, wanna make sure she’s okay before I stuff her mouth full.” felix chuckled and you rolled your eyes playfully.

hyunjin said nothing, too focused on the way you looked beneath him. he slid the head of his cock up and down your slit experimentally, gathering your wetness before pushing into you slowly.

you whined at the stretch and felix ran his fingers over your cheek, consoling you.

“you doing okay sweet girl?” hyunjin asked, halting his movements.

“yes, yes i’m perfect baby.” you nodded frantically “please give me more,” you begged

hyunjin moaned as he pushed deeper into you, moving your legs to wrap around his hips.

felix took that as his signal to push his cock into your mouth, his eyes rolling back at the warmth, slowly fucking his cock into you.

“fuck baby, how are you still so tight?” hyunjin mewled, throwing his head back, licking his lips

you moaned around felix’s cock as hyunjin’s hips sped up, your body felt like it was floating from the overstimulation.

hyunjin and felix both reached for your tits, hands brushing over each other before they both claimed one, teasing you once again.

“fuck, hyune, i don’t think i’m gonna last.” felix whimpered out to the other boy.

hyunjin was still trying to compose himself, biting his lip between moans

“you don’t have to hold on lixie, we have all day.” hyunjin squeezed the other boy’s pinkie, reassuring him.

felix whimpered, his hips speeding up, repeatedly hitting the back of your throat.

“baby i’m gonna cum, can i come in your mouth? please please, can i?” he stuttered

you moaned out in approval, back arching off the ground.

felix’s hip shuddered, his warm milky release filling your mouth, you swallowing it up without hesitation.

hyunjin’s pace quickened, fucking into you deeper and harder.

your eyes were brewing tears, gasping for air.

“y/n, i’m gonna cum. i’m gonna cum inside of you, are you ready for me?” hyunjin growled, placing his hands on your hips to stabilize himself.

“please, need you to fill me up. please hyune.” you mewled, finding felix’s hand and holding onto it tightly.

“fuck- i’m cumming.” hyunjin confirmed, landing sharp thrusts into your cunt, filling you to the brim.

felix wiped the tears off your cheeks and caressed your cheeks as you came down.

“you’re such a good girl, y/n. our perfect girl.” felix praised sweetly.

hyunjin leaned down and kissed your lips sweetly, leaving a few stray kisses on your neck after.

“did so good. you’re so good for us.” hyunjin breathed out, slowly pulling out of you.

you smiled beneath them and leaned into felix’s hand.

“can i feel you too lixie?” you looked up innocently at the freckled boy.

he looked surprised, “are you sure baby? that was a lot just now.”

you nodded, sure of yourself. “want you too.”

hyunjin chuckled at your cute exchange.

“felix, switch places with y/n,” he instructed, moving back so you two had room to do so.

felix obeyed and laid down on his back, his cock soft due to his release.

you sat next to felix, waiting for hyunjin’s instruction.

hyunjin moved in between the younger boy's legs, leaning down to kiss him.

felix whimpered into hyunjin’s lips, both their cocks growing hard once again at the contact. felix’s hands found purchase in hyunjin’s hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

you watched in awe, running your soft hands up the side of felix’s leg.

hyunjin let him go, smirking.

“my turn.” you smiled, leaning down to capture felix’s lips this time.

felix smiled into your kiss, his lips tasted like hyunjin and wine.

hyunjin took advantage of the distraction and spit into his palm, rubbing the lubrication over his head and felix’s opening.

hyunjin lined his cock up with felix’s hole and slowly pushed forward.

felix squealed into your mouth at the unexpected intrusion. it startled you so you looked toward hyunjin and quickly picked up on what was happening.

“hyunjin! it was my turn!” you complained, looking at him in belief.

felix became a moaning mess as hyunjin began fucking into him.

“fuck, hyung, you’re so big.” he all but screamed out.

“baby, it’s still your turn.” hyunjin chuckled “come on, climb in front of me.” he pulled you onto felix.

“oh fuck-“ felix realized what was going to happen “i, oh-fuck, i can't handle-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence.

you followed hyunjin’s guidance and lowered yourself onto felix’s length, earning a loud cry from the pitiful boy below you.

hyunjin held onto you while he fucked deeper into felix, and set the pace for you to ride your shared partner.

you toyed with felix’s nipples as hyunjin held onto you as if he owned you, biting into your neck and shoulders and your hips moved up and down.

felix was seeing stars, his eyes were rolled back into his skull and his breathing was staggered, completely encapsulated by you and hyunjin’s movements.

“lix- you’re - fuck - you’re so perfect.” you praised him, resting your palms on his chest now

“feels perfect too” hyunjin chimed in.

all felix could do was groan out, still not being able to focus on anything.

“are you gonna cum for us baby boy?” you whined, staring at his fucked out expression

he nodded quickly

“gonna make our girl a mommy?” hyunjin added.

felix squealed out and thrusted his hips upwards as he came in you without warning.

you moaned out and hyunjin did the same, finishing inside the smaller boy.

everyone was catching their breath at the same time, you picked yourself off of felix and fell onto the blanket next to him, chests heaving.

hyunjin pulled out of felix slowly and gently, making sure not to hurt him.

after a minute or so of regaining composure, the silence was broken.

“happy anniversary, my pillow princesses.” hyunjin giggled with his bunny smile, leaning over the two of you to place playful kisses on both of your flushed faces.

you and felix both blushed and wiped your faces after his wet kisses.

“happy anniversary.” you smiled at them both, pulling hyunjin down so you could lay in between them.

“i’m so glad you were horrendous at karaoke.” felix challenged and quickly hid his face, awaiting your retaliation, which immediately came after.

“felix! that’s so mean! oh my gosh!” it was hyunjin’s turn to chime in, giggling sweetly.

you laughed as the boys began to playfully fight over you. you looked over at your left hand, where a small golden band hugged your finger.

you sighed happily as their bickering continued,

you were in love.

the end.

[crazylittlejester]

No one is safe with War in his car when Casual by Chappell Roan comes on. Bro is a theater kid at heart and I KNOW he’s so dramatic it scares people at first but once they get used to it, nothing he does phases them

THIS EXACTLY. He’s someone you’ve gotta adjust to because he’s a bit obnoxious at times and a bit insane, but he’s a real sweetheart and if you treat him right he’s a lifelong friend. you’ve just gotta put up with the random flopping to the ground, dramatic wails, finding him on the floor in a really weird position like a fucking cat, whining, and him trying to pretend something isn’t bothering him when it Very clearly is he’s very fun to be around. War driving his friends definitely looks like him pouring his heart and soul into whatever song is one while they all continue their conversation completely unfazed. He was in high school theater in another life for sure

the beautiful thing about War is he has the passion, the emotion, the enthusiasm, and the knowledge of the lyrics, but the most average singing voice. Like he’s not tone deaf or horrendous by any means, but he’s not good either, it’s the way in which he screams lyrics in his car or doing like karaoke that makes it quite an experience because “oh my god is he screaming Celine Dion and CRYING??” and yes, yes he is but its a performance and people are genuinely in awe. again not because of his singing talent, but because of everything else that’s going on

[whispers-soundtrack-project]

Bagginshield

Fanmix - Part One

Link to the Spotify Playlist is at the bottom of the post Note: This fanmix was originally posted here, but I am currently in the process of restructuring and reposting all of my playlists!

All This Time (OneRepublic) Take all the time lost * All the days that I cost * Take what I took and * Give it back to you

Keeper Of The Stars (Tracy Byrd) I know I don’t deserve a treasure like you * There really are no words * To show my gratitude

Everything (Lifehouse) You calm the storms * And you give me rest * You hold me in your hands * You won’t let me fall

Taking Chances (Celine Dion) I just wanna start again * And maybe you could show me how to try * Maybe you could take me in * Somewhere underneath your skin

Can’t Pretend (Tom Odell) Feel, my skin is rough, * But it can be cleansed, * It can be cleansed * And my arms are tough, * But they can be bent, * They can be bent

The Reason (Hoobastank) I’m sorry that I hurt you * It’s something I must live with everyday * And all the pain I put you through * I wish that I could take it all away

Harbor (Vienna Teng) You’ve got a journey to make * There’s your horizon to chase * So go far beyond where we stand * No matter the distance * I’m holding your hand

The Wolves and the Ravens (Rogue Valley) I wasn’t yours and you weren’t mine * Though I’ve wished from time to time * We had found a common ground * Your voice was such a welcome sound

In This Life (Collin Raye) For all I’ve been blessed with in this life * There was an emptiness in me * I was imprisoned by the power of gold * With one honest touch, you set me free

Keeping Your Head Up (Birdy) Times that I’ve seen you lose your way * You’re not in control and you won’t be told * All I can do to keep you safe is hold you close * Hold you close till you can breathe on your own

[nanaten]

mother music taste headcanons VINE BOOM

ninten likes dadrock. NOBODY give that boy the aux he has a spotify playlist full of 70’s-early 90’s rock and he’s not afraid to start playing “Dream on” by Aerosmith whilst singing it so loudly your eardrums bleed (and it sounds worse because he’s got a voice-crack filled teenage boy voice). He owns mixtapes (that he burned himself) full of fleetwood mac, ACDC, iron maiden and red hot chili peppers, and if he gets shotgun in your car he’s playing em. you are at his mercy. he mostly only listens to music when in a car or when he’s in his room studying, preferring TV shows over listening.

Ness is similar, enjoying alot of rock music, (his favorite thing is PK rockin’ after all,) but he also listens to alot of pop, too. Combined with his Nirvana, Van Halen and, idk R.E.M CD’s is a passionate love for Celine Dion and ABBA. He also really adores Blur and had a crush on Damon Albarn growing up, probably (hes just like me for real) (and he’d very passionately fight about blur being way better than oasis)

Lucas’s music taste is somewhat gothic, despite not falling into more gothic aesthetics— though he’d like to present himself as a relaxed “oh yeah, whatever’s on the radio works,” type of guy, he’s got a very strong love for The Cure and Joy Division. He’ll dance around to Just Like Heaven thinking Claus won’t come home for a while— and Claus’ll walk in to see his little brother, broom in hand, using it as a microphone, singing “Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick! The one that makes m—“

Claus’s music taste is a little more recent— He’s super big into late 90’s-2000’s, even 2010’s rock music. Blink-182, Bowling for soup, that sorta ideal. Alot of his music taste stems from movies he watches, and thanks to that he actually can’t usually pinpoint bands he likes. He’s much more of a “I like this song,” type of guy over a “I like this specific musician,” sorta guy. His favorite song is Scotty Doesn’t Know because “it’s funny and sounds good.” He is insufferable about Green Day and has posters of them in his room. would probably also have a crush on damon albarn, however he wouldn’t know him for blur and instead Gorillaz

[roryonic]

DVD Commentary: Battleships and Love Boats

Another for the vault @shamelessdvdcommentary :)

Idk who requested me, but thank you a whole lot <3 it's nice to be thought of. Since I don't know which story anon would like to know about, I thought I'd pick the biggest and baddest hahah

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

Published June 24th, 2023 (same day I finished In Another World). Wrote and posted one chapter (ish) every day. Finished it about 2 months later.

Chapters? 106

Word count? 238,315

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

Smut.

No, really.

I vaguely dabbled with smut in In Another World, so I wanted to truly try my hand at it in a story that was meant to have it. I also knew I wanted to write a story where they were a bit younger because I like all the angsty drama hahah

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

I almost always write in dual POV. To me, it makes sense because both Ian and Mickey have an equal say about their relationship. It's also such a nice break to be able to jump into one's head when I so please.

What was your favourite scene to write?

Chapter 51 - Boyfriend.

I loooove the casual (semi) PDA and the calm of them both when they're finally together. Details and absentminded touches are my cryptonite, so I adore how they act in that chapter as they're looking at cars. They're dialogue is also adorable (if I may say so myself lol)

How did you come up with the title?

Titles are the first thing I come up with when I'm writing a story and more or less build everything off of that vibe. I think I heard or read Battleships and Love Boats somewhere, but I can't remember where, and it just stuck.

Fitting, though, I think. Both love and calm, but also battles and uncertainty.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

Smut hahah

It's time to face the facts that I will never be an excellent smut writer and I am fine with that. I cringe too much of myself to write too explicitly. Too innocent for this.

Favourite line in the story?

“Jesus Chr—fuck,” Ian spoke breathlessly and dropped his head back a bit too far, consequently banging it against the wall.

The one that started it all hahah

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story?

Oh my god, if it did.

Let's just say that the story you start reading is not the story you end with. But, again, I don't map out my stories if I can help it.

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

Dialogue.

I think I had their voices etched into my brain stem at that point. If I can't hear the characters say their lines, I don't write it.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

I wish I had gotten Mickey his car. Sorry, Mick.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

Very much surprised.

After I wrote In Another World, which became quite successful, I didn't think I could replicate anything like the warm reception that it got.

I was wrong.

Battleship, you exceeded all expectations.

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote?

Alexa! Play "All by myself" - Celine Dion!

Ask your followers to pick a snippet (no more than 500 words) and share your thoughts about it.

[grlcarcass]

dead air, dirty talk - duff mckagan

modern!duff mckagan x reader

She hosts a late night music radio show, just getting by and keeping things entertaining with her crowd, until a charming caller with a self proclaimed ‘ex rockstar life’ becomes awfully involved.

warnings: 18+ content, power imbalance, legal age gap, humiliation, choking, mild breathplay, mentions of alcohol use, sadism, masochism, strong language

word count: 7k words

{tags: @hollywoodroses @duffrosemckagansslut }

special thanks to @hollywoodroses for your advice! ur the best.

The rain made the city glow.

Far from magically, it wasn’t remotely close to a movie scene, but in that ‘neon-reflected-wet-sidewalks-outside-the-pub’ way, where the gutters are glimmering and vaguely smell like the ever familiar city sewage.

Her mary janes hit puddles as she lazily makes her way up the cracked pavement, big flight jacket only zipped up halfway, the cold city wind hitting the skin behind the small slightly exposed black lace bralette she wore as a top. Even at these midnight hours she stuck to her image, hoping to be recognized one of these days.

It was nearly midnight, and everybody in the city was definitely asleep. Yet she was just clocking in.

The radio station was far from glamorous. The suspiciously stained ceiling tiles, the vending machine left with the trail mix no right mind would ever buy, the stuck front door that wouldn’t dare to budge without the help of your hip.  A little box of flickering “ON AIR” light and a secondhand incense smell, where the only audience were night owls, truckers, and the very painfully lonely assholes. 

A college student technically, firstly, but she felt like her major was just getting by. Rent was late, always. But the apartment had a window that overlooked that city skyline, and when it rained like this? It almost felt expensive. 

She threw her jacket on the ever empty guest seat, her minibag following with the jingles of her keychains. She slid into the swivel chair, and tapped the mic, one of the objectively finest things in her life. 

“Hey you lot.” she spoke lowly, speaking into the dim half-lit studio. Her voice honeyed with sarcasm, “Welcome back to your nightly reminder it’s past your bedtime. I’m your host, and hell no I’m not playing any Linkin Park.” 

The night started the same as ever, the phone blinking lazily as she did. 

First caller swore up and down that his cat was possessed. “I swear to you, she growls when I play The Strokes. That can’t be normal!” She chewed her gum and blinked slowly, she sighed to the side. “Maybe your cat has taste.” 

Click. Next.

A woman requesting a Celine Dion song for her cheating ex. “You know, just so he knows what he lost?” 

“Sure,” she said, already queuing up an obnoxiously rowdy song, betraying her request. “This one’s for you, Greg.” she rolled her eyes.

It droned on; half comedy, half confessional booth? Most nights, she floated through the calls like a milky smoke, half listening, half thinking about her shift ending. Her tone always cool, borderline teasing, like she dared the world to amuse her.

Then came his voice.

It wasn’t dramatic, just low. Steady. Like someone who hadn’t slept in a few days but didn’t mind, yet also a curiosity behind it. 

“Hey,” he said. “First time caller. Thought I’d see what the lame and lonely are doing tonight y’know?” 

She blinked, oddly dumbfounded, she loved her crowd of course. A bunch of bored and chatty people who didn’t mind being teased and jested with. Her hand froze over the soundboard. There was a pause. Not dead air, more like a charged silence. 

He hadn’t stumbled. Didn’t have to unconsciously beg to be heard. He dared her to listen.

Frankly she just wasn’t used to that.

“Well,” she said slowly, her slender fingers pinching her bottom lip, rolling the pout between her index and thumb curiously. “You’ve officially been the smoothest first time caller on the show.”

He chuckled again, his voice that of an unpolished yet inviting young buck. “Oh I’m so glad to raise the bar, it wasn’t awfully hard. Hold your applause I beg.” 

“Oh,” she mused, flipping a switch on the board, “someone’s cocky.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I’d love to hear this list, first time caller.” she mocked and giggled.

“I’d need a second call for that, you wanna play some songs on this joint eventually don’t you?” 

She raised a brow, she could feel the listeners worldwide–or, locally-wide doing the same. The show was far from that of a cohesive talkshow, the collective felt like it was a well promoted music groupchat, nothing so charming.

 He teased for more time. Interesting.

“So…” she drawled, resting her chin in her palm. You swear you could hear her amused grin over the radio. “What’s your name, our oh-so-charming mystery caller?”

A pause. “D.”

She waited for more. Nothing came.

“No last name?” she teased. “Witness protection advice such an alias? If you could call it that.”

“Something like that.”

“Alright, D Something-Like-That, what really made you call in tonight?’ 

Another pause, a little longer this time.

“Just wanted to hear needed some voice other than my own..” 

And just like that, her sarcasm wavered. Briefly. 

She leaned back in her chair, one mary jane rested on the edge of the desk, watching the rain crawl down the window in tiny silver threads.

D hadn’t filled the silence. He let it breathe, which told her a lot. Most people feared dead air. He let it exist. It was the kind of thing only people with unrelenting confidence could pull off, radioshow or not.

“You always talk like that?” she asked after a beat, voice curious and musing. “All cryptic and poetic, or is it just for me?” she teased smokily.

“Depends,” he said. “Is it working?”

She smirked, he got her there, admittedly a thrill shot up from layers behind her abdomen. “A little. But don’t get a big head about it, you’d have to best all the trucker callers who tell me Iron Maiden predicted 9/11. You’re in the league for sure, but the best in it?” she jested.

“Aw darn.” he chuckled. “Guess I’ll have to try harder next time won’t I?” 

For some reason, it hadn’t felt like a threat. When most of her callers promised a call back, she already dreaded it. But him? 

Next time?

She liked this mix, unrehearsed boldness, smooth and not pushy. She liked that. It wasn’t often someone on the other side of the static actually got to her.

Most of her audience was a blend of awkward stoners, lonely oldheads, or self proclaimed “deep” Elliott Smith fans. She loved them, she was them, but it didn’t stop her from knowing how much more aware she was of them. Sharp edged, and sad in a way they hadn’t earned yet. She envied her crowd some times, more love than hate there. 

But this guy? He didn’t even try to prove anything, and it slightly unnerved her. Just a bit.

“You a music guy, D?” she asked.

He hesitated. Just for a second. 

“You could say that, sure.” he chuckled 

“Define ‘music guy,’” she pushed.

“Played a little. Wrote a little. Y’know? Lived backstage.” 

She tilted her head. “You in a band?”

“Used to be. Not the frontman. Never liked the idea too much, y’know? Just there to get drunk, high, and play. Not much else to it, y’know?”

“Ohhh,” she teased. “Mysterious past, famous rock god calling from exile maybe? You’re intriguing us.” 

“You laugh,” he said, clearly amused. “but you’re not that far off.”

She almost made a joke. Almost.

"You miss it?" she asked uncharacteristically tenderly.

“I guess I miss the feeling.” he paused. “And I miss not having to explain it.” 

She liked this, she wanted to save it in a bottle and keep it for later. 

“Call me next week,” she said, almost without thinking. “Same time.”

A silence hung between them, it was warm. 

“Yeah,” he said, quiet and sure. “I will.”

After D hung up, she just sat there for a second, staring at the blinking line that had gone dark.

The next call came through.

“Hey, it’s Alan again; remember me? The guy with the misspelled ‘Mtoely Crue’ fucked up tattoo?”

She smirked, her fingers absently tapping on the desk. “Hey you. I was wondering when you’d call to make up for your last very questionable tattoo.” 

The usual stream of callers came through; a guy who swore Ozzy didn’t eat the damn bat, a woman asking for a shoutout to her ‘super cool’ cat named Gary Glitter, and an ex-groupie proudly proclaiming how she wore the bandana of David Bowie’s guitarist after stealing it.

It was all so, mostly, predictable yet amusing. Her demeanor was noticeably different, she felt herself smiling into the mic more. Swinging her legs under the desk like a teenager with a secret.

Even when she walked home under the same dripping sky, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, she just kept hearing that voice of his.

She didn’t know what it was exactly. Just that it felt honest in a way people rarely are, especially behind anonymous lines around 2 am.

The next day blurred like a washed out tape.

College was a haze of fluorescent lights and dull lectures. She sat through a pretentious music theory class taught by some prissy asshole who pronounced “fugue” wrong, and graded as if he was some kind of Beethoven himself. 

Lunch was a pathetic half bagel and a chai latte, she ignored all her texts. Checked the station voicemail, nothing. 

By Thursday, she had almost convinced herself it was a fluke. An oddly charming stranger who stumbled into her show and played her like a damn fool for her audience.

But she couldn’t stop thinking of his voice, the steady smokey rasp, but friendly chuckles behind it. A certain gravel to it you don’t get from a mic, but from life. From late nights and hotel bathtubs and waiting too long between cigarettes. 

She continually replayed the call in her head, especially the pauses. The way he’d say “y’know” like he expected her to understand everything as he said it. Or it was just a habit, she was reading too far into it, she knew it.

The following Friday night rolled in like clockwork, it felt like the past hundred, the city buzzing under the same rain slicked sky. The comforting hum of the studio set in as she sat in her chair, fingers already itching for the mic. Tonight was the night.

She clicked the mic on, ready to get into the usual chaos of her late night crowd. 

“Alrighty, you know who I am, cut the crap and call me.” her voice danced in the air with a playful edge. “Hit me.” she tempted her awaiting callers.

The calls flooded in, each one blending into the next; people joking about how they were finally awake enough to properly understand their grandpa’s recommendations, a woman who was seriously convinced she was the bastard child of Eddie Van Halen, another just wanted a song rec. 

She kept it coming, half-listening, half-laughing, her usual dry sense of humor coating every interaction. But then, a strange shift in the feeling of the next call. 

“Hey, who’s calling us tonight?” she said, a feeling in her gut about this caller. 

A soft and familiar chuckle vibrated through the speakers, unmistakingly smooth, yet carrying that same rough edge that made him stand out before. “I’m afraid it’s me again,” came his familiar beautiful voice, rich, and warm with mischief. “Wouldn’t want you to think you’d gotten rid of me that easily.” 

She truly couldn't suppress the smirk that tugged at the corners of her mouth. D, of course, like he promised. A wave of relief and excitement washed over her, leaving that electric feeling hanging in the air.

“Back for more?” she teased, keeping her tone light, though there was that new kind of amusement she found last time he had called her. “Thought you’d let someone else have the spotlight for once.” 

“Couldn’t keep away,” he replied smoothly. “I figured I’d call in and see if you were still managing to keep up with all this music gossip crap. I have to admit, I’m impressed you haven’t lost it yet.” 

Her eyebrow arched, was he listening to her show the whole week leading up to today? She leaned closer to the mic. “Oh, I’m hanging in there, don’t you worry about me. But I do have to ask… what’s your angle this time?”

She could hear his smile, whatever that looked like, in his voice as he spoke again, and she knew it was that smirk– the one he probably wore every time he got into this kind of playful back and forth. “No angle. Just wanted to check in and see if you’re still as interesting as last week, which you’ve seem to have a knack for. I gotta know, a question that I imagine all listeners have thought of…” he began, her eyebrows raising. “Are you as interesting off the air as you are on it?”

Her pulse shot up, but she kept her cool. “I don’t know… maybe you should find out for yourself. Unless you’re a complete nutcase and lied your way up to this point about this ‘ex-rockstar life’ you claimed.” she teased. 

His ever sunny laughter rumbled through the speakers, the kind that was easy-going and mischievous. “I think that’s a dangerous idea, y’know? But hey, I get it. You probably think you know everything about this side of life, right? I mean, you’ve heard all the stories, the ones about the craziness, the tours, the late nights, the drama.” 

She raised a brow feeling the challenge settle into her chest. “I mean, sure. I’ve heard some pretty wild stuff. But I bet you’ve seen a lot more than you’ve led on, D.” she giggled.

He chuckled. “I’m sure I could tell you a few stories that would blow your mind, but who knows? Maybe they’re better left off the ears of a radio show host, y’know?” he jested.

She leaned forward, rolling her eyes and musing, her tone intrigued and teasing. “Oh, don’t be so mysterious. You think you can just be all cryptic on my show and not expect me to want to know more?”

“Well, I’m a fan of mystery,” D replied, his voice lowering a tad. “Especially in people who can keep up. I’ll give you a hint, though. Being on the road isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. After a while, you start seeing how shitty it can be, y’know.” 

“I’d imagine.” she said softly. 

His voice shifted. “It’s humbling to get back into the spot you were before the big lights. Even for a little.”

She was quiet for a moment, letting the tension linger between them before speaking again. “Sounds like you’re not in that life anymore?”

His laugh was soft, yet gravely and laced with amusement. “No. That bit is behind me. The memories stay for years. They stick around. Like the people who truly get it, the ones who really know what it’s like, y’know?” 

Her curiosity peaked, but she didn’t lead on. “So, you’re saying I’ve got to be in the elusive ‘get it’ club to understand?” she asked with a playful edge. 

“Maybe,” D teased. “Or maybe I’ll just show you what happens when you start looking beyond the hairspray and pretty men. You know, in person?”

Her heart skipped. There it was again! That invitation, hanging in the air like a challenge she couldn’t resist. 

“I guess I’ll have to be properly schooled this weekend.” she chuckled. “If you think you can handle all of my beauty and charm… and wit.” she said ever so sarcastically. 

D’s voice dropped to a lower amused pitch, “Oh I know I can, I’m sure. But we’ll see how tough you are, no audience, no mic.” he chuckled.

“I guess we’ll have to see. Check your inbox, send the deets there.” she giggled. The listener count had spiked up, she hadn’t even noticed. She was too busy writing the caller number on a nearby notepad to contact this illusive D. 

After that shift the plan was set, her phone buzzing moments later.

D: So, Saturday night, 8PM. Guess you’re calling out sick to your loyal listeners?

She stared at the message, the playfulness in his text was unmistakable. It kind of hit her though, she hoped it wasn’t some total uggo just playing around. He didn’t have to be a looker or anything, she kind of just created some hot fantasy subconsciously. Her fingers hovered the keyboard, then she bit a fraction of the skin of her bottom lip and typed. 

You: You better not be all talk. I’ll be there, abandoning my favorite group of loners for you.

The typing popped up on her screen. She couldn’t help but giggle.

D:  I already promised. See you at the station.

Saturday morning came by fast, and the hours were slipping by before she could really prepare for meeting up with this D character. On the off chance he wasn’t some behemoth troll, she decided to play the game and get all pretty regardless. 

Standing in front of the mirror, a bundle of excitement and nerves playing in her gut. Her hair cascaded in soft waves, hands trembling as she worked her locks. She had already chosen a simple outfit, a black slip dress and black sheer stockings. She slid on kitten heels, trying to at least look like she was there for a “good time” and not too try hard.

The clock struck 7:45pm and at this rate, she had been ready for hours. Waiting around, not wanting to be too early. Her heart raced as she took one more good look in the mirror. She sighed and got her purse, excited and nervous all at once. She stepped out of her apartment, and locked the door behind her. 

The rain had settled in the past couple of days, a grey gloom remained. The neon lit reflections make an appearance in the vague drizzle. She tried to wind up her confidence she led on in her show, and that she had interacted with him this entire time with. 

The idea of being around a personality who collided so well with hers made her stomach flip in anticipation. 

When she stood by the radio station, she immediately scanned the street, watching oncomers with intent. She immediately glanced down at her phone, going to ask where he was when an extremely tall figure stood in front of her. 

She looked up, she picked up on the features before her brain could even scream out his real name in all of its astonishment.

 His hair was styled in a tousled way, the hints of grey but the natural blonde shone through his hair. His face was the same as the magazine covers that had moved her to make a show about the genre, only aged, only more scruffy, timelessly rugged. She took it all in, his tattooed arms, the way he dressed in a simple black band shirt, a cross chain, how it hung off his slender body?

She was awestruck, Duff Mckagan stood right before her. Guns N Roses was everything to her, absolutely everything. One of her immediately loved bands, always updating the show on their every news, more so than other bands. This was the best possible thing to come out of this. 

The dazed look on her face, jaw hung slightly open. He listened to the show, that asshole knew what kind of reaction this would get out of her this whole time. Warranting the smirk she had imagined behind the static, being plastered on the face of her absolute favorite bassist. Who knew now that he was, she knew immediately he’d hold all of her spoken affections to him.

Duff smiled down at her, his hands in his jean pockets. “You look like you’re thinking of running out of here.” he said, his voice so warm and clear, yet all the more rough now that it was in front of her. 

Her heart thudded, this was her absolute dream since she started the show. An unrealistic one sure? A girlish unmistakable attraction built inside of her, one that was always there of course, it was Duff McKagan. But this was also D, the personality that charmed her to no end. 

Her face crept into a shy smile, trying to force that personality she had put up for days. “Not quite,” she looked up at him, “Just taking in the fact you’re not… you’re… you?” she stuttered. In disbelief understandably.

He smirked still looking down at her and her gloomy little get up, he liked this. “Oh I’m sure I’ve lived up to all your expectations, huh? All those praises you’ve been throwing my way” he said, clearly amused by the idea. “I thought I was just another call-in but, you talk about this old bassist more than you let on, y’know? You had no clue.” 

She wanted to die and melt into the earth, in a good way. Her cheeks immediately flaring pink. Of course he was going to bring that up, she thought. Her lips twitched between embarrassment and amusement. “I—what?” She tried to recover quickly, though she could already feel her face warming at the thought of it. The unabashed admiration she had casually thrown into the open radio air, wrapped up in excited ramblings about GnR? She was so screwed.

Duff chuckled sensing her realization, “I mean it’s cool,” he continued. “You’ve been raving about me and the old guys for weeks. What was it you said? ‘Unparalleled character’ or something like that?” His smirk was practically etched into his face. “You like me? If that even scratches the surface of it.” 

She was still extremely embarrassed and also excited for how this night could possibly continue. D was Duff, she was here, that electric personality was her all time favorite. How would anyone recover? She gulped quietly and pursed her lips, trying to. 

Duff laughed again, low and rich, like a guilty pleasure. “Oh I’ve been listening alright. Don’t think I missed a word. Couldn’t help myself, y’know? You’re so charming when you talk about me. It’s like that sarcasm and wit just becomes girlish gossip in those segments.” 

There was something about the way he said it, something that made her wonder if he was playing her or if he actually enjoyed her vocal passion about him, she was after all cool-headed, and relaxed on air. He picked up on that demeanor change when she spoke about Guns N’ Roses.

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so instead she deflected with a quick and really shaky sarcastic reply. A hand to her hip, looking up at the statue of a man with red flushed cheeks “So what’s your point Mckagan? You’re just trying to get me to say I think you’re as cool as your band right?”

“Oh absolutely,” he responded. His voice dripped with mock sincerity. “Because if you don’t admit it, I might just have to leave you right here by your own radio station, and go find someone else who gets it.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re too cocky for your own good,” she shot back through an unstifled smile. “You know you have a huge ego.” 

He nodded with his hands in the air in mock defense. “At least I have some talent to back it up, do you know who I am?” he jested.

She raised a brow, the challenge in his voice making her heart race. “Oh so you’re a legend now? Tell me, should I be getting your autograph or…” she led on.

“Aw come on.” he replied, his voice a playful murmur. “Don’t pretend you’re not into it. You've been talking about me for weeks, I’ve only just started calling in two weeks ago.”

She almost let her composure slip, as if that mattered at this rate. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or deeply worried you’ve been keeping track for all this time.”

“Both,” he said with a chuckle. “I’d definitely say both.”

Their banter felt like it had its own rhythm, playful and flirty. Their eyes kept locking for longer than it should. Despite the teasing, she felt a real connection here. It was chemistry and curiosity. Like they were both looking for something, and daring the other to find it in each other. It was tense and rich, a thrill she had longed for in her boring grey life.

The night stretched on, full of shared stories, laughter, and the ease that came from spending time with someone who just gets it. They finally decided to head back to her place, a few blocks away. It wasn’t about impressing each other, just wanting to know more. 

“So you’ve been in that world for a while. It’s hard to imagine you just leaving the whole thing.” she mused, leaning against the counter. Duff sat on one of her stools on the other end, leaning on her elbows. 

“Wasn’t an easy decision, but it gets to a point y'know? I’m old.” he said, taking a drink on his now second bottle of beer. She nodded, as cool as she was trying to be, she couldn’t help but look onto him. How beautifully he had aged, she was far younger than him of course. A college student, and he was in his early sixties, but she couldn’t help the way she looked at him. He was just too appealing. 

Regardless she found herself nodding.

The night stretched on, with drunk laughter and comfortable silences filling the apartment. They  shared stories, and they both felt the chemistry growing between them, it was undeniable. Her hand grazed his arm as she reached over for another shot, which they were so drunk they hadn’t exactly remembered getting it out.

They gave each other a drunk knowing glance, everything was slower, every little touch just a bit more hypnotic and obvious. She felt a shiver go down her spine as his darkened gaze looked at her after the mistake. They stared at each other way too long, pushing past the barrier of the radio show host and her favorite caller. They were long past it a couple shots and stories ago.

Interrupting her thoughts, he leaned into her neck as she sat on the stool next to him. “You know, as charming as you are on the air…” he began. Her fingers tensing around her empty shot glass. “I think I’d approach you, persona or not.”

She stiffened at the feel of his half-grown stubble grazing her neck, the exact kind of masculinity that ruined women in stories like this, all this time firmly believing she was stronger than that. But she was just no different was she? Her breath hitched in her throat, her eyes going wide no matter how she forced it not to show. 

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice came out too light, too airy, too not her. She hated it. Hated how it stripped her of the venom straight from her tone with just his closeness. Her usual bite dissolves distressingly fast, melting into something so shamefully soft. 

Her hands rose, sliding under his arms to his neck, her fingers clinging there as if instinct told her to not let him get away. He leaned closer, their bodies pulled by an invisible heat.

This was Duff. Duff. 

The same man whose music had sparked only the dirtiest nights alone in her younger years. The man she’d praise to hell and back on air without a clue he was listening. None of the lines she’d drawn for herself mattered now, not his age, his legacy, not the sinking guilt that she should’ve known better? She didn’t care.

He lifted his face from her neck, she swore right there he could read her mind. His dark gaze looked at her flushed face, drinking in the way she blinked slow and heavy– no longer daring him of anything, but asking for something. Subtly. Shamefully. Like he had her under some kind of spell, which he did.

The way her thighs came together didn’t go unnoticed, his rough hand slid down, thumbing a slow teasing path along her inner thigh, beneath the hem of her already short dress.

“Oh don’t try to look so tough now,” he murmured briskly, inches away from her face. His tall frame slid off the stool with ease, crouching down in front of her. She jolted when his knee touched the floor, like the sheer shift in position made everything more real. She could feel herself beneath her dress getting more needy. She gripped the sides of her stool hard. 

“You were all mouth today,” he muttered, clearly enjoying himself.  “Slick little comebacks, your sarcastic radio shtick, right?” His other knee hit the floor. He looked up at her with something between amusement and mock pity, his lip curling slightly.

“All that ‘cool girl’ edge for your little phone-in fan club,” he murmured, dragging his fingers higher on her leg. “But just look at you now.”

Her breath trembled in her throat. Duff tilted his head slightly, like he was just admiring her unraveling. Watching her. Loving how he’d peeled it all back without much effort. And that smug, devastating look of his?

It violently ruined her composure. 

Because he was right. She was all mouth. 

His hand slid higher, thumbing the inside of her thigh with practiced ease, and he grinned like the devil when she shuddered more frequently under his touch. Still firmly gripping the sides of her stool like they were the only thing keeping her tied to reality, she was coming completely undone.

“God look at you,” he murmured, low and amused, watching this ‘cool girl’ fall apart in real time. “Didn’t even have to try.”

Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Her mascaraed eyes were wide and glassy, lipstick smudged from drinking moments ago, a normalcy that felt like eons ago. 

“This is the same girl right?” he asked from between her thighs. “The same girl who talks circles around her callers? You sounded so in charge over the radio. So untouchable.”

She whimpered. Actually whimpered at how humiliatingly true that was. He knew everything. He listened to everything. All those nights she’d talk so highly about all these famous musicians like they were her gods, how they carved her into the personality that she was, flirted with him without knowing it was him. And now here she was, on his knees between her legs, looking like she was going to be the next bitch he’d sink his teeth into.

“God, you should hear yourself.” he said, leaning into her right inner thigh, his thin lips and stubble making themselves known as he talked against her leg. “Begging in your breath. You’re not even hiding it anymore.” 

Her face burned. Her thighs trembled. She was so wet it was actually embarrassing, her panties clinging to her anatomy in  the worst way. She tried to shift, close her legs instinctively, like closing them even a tad would recover herself.

“Oh hell no, you don’t get to play shy. Not after all that big talk and praise.” he cooed, all wicked and low between her. His every annunciation felt on the sensitive skin between her legs. She felt like she was on fucking fire. 

He looked up at her hungrily, he rolled her eyes. “You gonna cut the shit and tell me how bad you wanted this?” he asked, breath hot. “You ever touch yourself listening to my voice on those late night shows? I bet being a media outlet just gave you so much content.”

She gasped, the humiliation a fire in her stomach. Her lips quivered. “I… maybe.” 

“Oh, maybe?” he mocked, his fingers dragging across the soaked fabric between her legs. “C’mon. The girl who always has clever little comebacks on her show is unsure of herself now?”

She groaned, bucking her hips forward. Desperate. It was messy. Sloppy. Her thighs parted with no fight at all at this point. Her heels digging into her floor for leverage. She needed him, and the raw shame of how quickly she had folded only turned the both of them  on.

He smiled at this, “Yeah… there she is.” His voice smoothly darkened, like he personally knew this side to her for ages. They had met today, but he was oh so familiar with how much she liked him. “My messy girl,” he said, satisfied with her physical honesty.

Her panties were practically pasted to her, the heat between her legs pulsing with every syllable he threw at her. His ever growing ego, already keeping him from being quiet.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he muttered, sliding his hand beneath her, not to fuck her,  to cup her. Palm curved perfectly to feel every wet, hot pulse of her cunt as she dripped down onto him, her arousal leaking into the creases of his aged hands.

“Fuck. Won’t you listen to yourself? Look at the fight you lost so miserably.” he mused.

She sobbed a pathetic, strung out wail. He took that same hand, slick with her and slapped her cheek with it. Not hard, just enough to make her feel it. To leave a warm humiliating wet mark across her skin. Her head jerked slightly with the motion, a deranged glaze in her eyes. 

Her cheeks were blazing, she didn’t look away. Her eyes stayed locked to his, dizzy and dark and so painfully needy, it hurt.

He grabbed her jaw, fingers digging in, almost cruelly.

“You stay the fuck with me baby, don’t get all dumb now. You wanted to be seen, didn’t you? You talked a big, big game.” 

She was beyond thought, rational ones at that. She just asked. It’s all she could do.

“Please. Fuck… fuck– please.” she pleaded, hardly breathing.

He scoffed, loving this side of her, as humiliating as this was for her. He was growing more and more fond of her as far as she let go. “Oh please what?” he cruelly taunted. “You even asking to do something dirty? Or are you just doing all this to sit here, sob on my lap while I make you cum without even taking my cock out.”

Her moan broke mid air, her hands tangling in his shirt. She didn’t even know what she wanted, she felt like she never knew anything until now. 

He stood over her, still sat in the same stool where she was just chatting with him. Looking up at him desperately. One hand remained knuckle deep in her cunt, the other violently gripping her face, never for a moment letting her gaze slip from his intense one.

He spits on her face, her eyes only fluttering shut for the first time in ages to avoid his spit. She let it slide down her ruined face. Her own fluids and his spit melting into each other as they remained on her face. 

He slapped her again. “You’ll remember this every time you hear my voice now, huh?” he lowly said, nearly inside of her ear. “Next time you sit this cute ass in that little booth, playing those tapes and old interviews? Just know one of ‘em lived in your headphones, and now he’s the reason you’re a shell of the cool girl they know.” he threatened so deliciously.

She had a dazed and weary longing look, her eyebrows turned upward and glassy. She nodded as if he was the only thing in the world that she could ever need to get by, to be told what to like, hate, what to do. She felt so completely his. 

She came. Hard. Her hips violently bucking into his hand, her full body shattering against him with a cry that would’ve embarrassed her if she still had any pride left.

But she didn’t.

Of course she didn’t.

This is all she wanted, to be the lame one in any interaction. To not be the more knowing one, to be completely and utterly subordinate. 

Her orgasm didn’t even fully release its grip on her, thighs still twitching, her body malleable and soaked with aftershocks when he grabbed her wrist and stood her up in one full motion. 

Her mess sliding down her leg, not getting a chance to even soak into the fabric of her underwear.

She was so excited.

She squealed and gasped as he spun her onto the counter, where their remaining beer and empty shot glasses reminded them of how they even got here.

The cold edge of the counter met her ass with a sharp thud, and before she could catch her breath, he was already caging her in, surrounding her in his tall stature.

“It pisses me off that you think we’re done, you’re cute for that.” he said darkly amused. Hell yes. This was all she wanted, the be talked circles around for change, for anyone to truthfully best her. This was heaven.

She barely had time to breathe before he yanked her dress up with both of his hands, bunched it around her waist and shoved her panties aside, ripping her sheer stockings in the process like they were garbage.

Her eyes watched everything he did, to the point where she held her breath to see what he was going to do with her exposed entrance. He tugged violently at his belt, throwing it aside. His force just as mean to her as it was to the button of his jeans.

He slammed into her as soon as it got out, not even giving her a chance to see any vein, nothing but the size and girth.

She choked on a scream, her fingers clawing behind his neck, the sudden stretch of him inside of her blinding. She never felt more lightheaded, like she was far from alive. It was perfect.

He didn’t ease in. There was no ceremony. No sweetness. Just filth. 

Just a man who’d listened to her voice for months, jerking off to her smug little interactions and her high praise of him and his band. Finally under him, where he firmly believed she belonged this whole time.

His hips snapped against hers in a brutal rhythmic slam. She wasn’t sure if she was moaning or sobbing, or even begging. Whatever it was, he drank it in like it made him harder.

He gripped her hips so tightly, she’d bruise. She wanted it to bruise, she never wanted this heightened ecstasy to leave her even months after. Each thrust knocking the wind out of her, hair sticking to the mess on her face in strands. 

“Say something now.” he panted, leaning into her. “C’mon little host, our lady of the hour. No more one-liners to share with me?” 

She didn’t try, she didn’t want to try. Her past persona a disgrace in her mind if it kept her from treatment like this for ages.

“That’s what I thought.” he dimly smiled, a soft gesture of thumbing away her stuck hair from her face. “My poor thing, that attitude surely didn’t last long.”

He didn’t slow, didn’t stop.

She couldn’t even count how many times either of them probably came, too mentally far away to even recognize it. 

And she loved it. Every second. Every degrading word. The physical example of her being the least smart one in the room, an erotic humbling she had longed for everyday.

She finally embraced what she thought she was better than for ages, a slut, a gross perverted radio host with the furthest of innocent intentions with her hoped connections.

The apartment had gone quiet, save for the steady hum of her body still trembling in the aftermath. She was completely laid out on the counter. A little bruised, a little adored. 

She brought her weak hands to her body, finding every physical evidence of his rage all over her, every indent of his teeth marks brought an exhausted smile and gasp as she found them. 

Duff was resting his forehead on her lower abdomen. His chest rising and falling with unhurried breaths, watching her like a satisfied animal. 

Her lips were red and kiss bruised, mascara smeared from the corners of her eyes. She never felt more settled. Anchored. 

He came up and held her to his naked body, none of them remembering the motions of getting naked. He kissed her forehead, he sat her on his lap on the stools. Gentle. Disgustingly gentle for a man who just made her sob and drool all over her own kitchen counter.

“You done pretending? For me at least?” he whispered into the crook of her neck, peppering it with kisses. Her voice was hoarse. “It’s beyond you.” 

Duff spent the night, the shower and sleep after it all the more of a reminder of what pretending to be a proud cool-headed girl kept from her. 

She lied in bed with Duff, the most tired and gratified she had ever been. She knew what she’d have to do.

It was the last time the “ON AIR” light would glow.

She leaned into her mic, her voice all polite and graceful. Changed.

“If you spent your 2-4 AM’s with me, I wanna thank you personally. Thank you for wasting your time with me. Even the weird ones. It’s not forever, I love you guys too much.”

A pause as she held her finger over the switch. 

“I just wanna thank a very special one of you.” she said, her eyes glinting upward. “I’m happy to have put on the rawest show for you.” she said softly into the mic. 

Click.

She slung her bag over her shoulder, switching the light off in the room without any reluctance.

The “ON AIR” light blinked off. The silence was as erotic as ever, not empty. She felt claimed.

The guest seat wasn’t empty tonight, Duff proudly coming up to wrap his arm around her and walk her out. Smugly looking down at her as she was his prize.

She was something else entirely as she left the station for the last time.

note: this was my first fanfic i hope you enjoyed <3

[finkinthisfrew]

Anything (Pt.37)

Chapter 37 After a beautifully intimate dinner in the foliaged corner of an outdoor patio under strings and strings of fairy lights, and a leisurely walk along the charming city streets interspersed with over a dozen makeout sessions in whatever hidden corner we could find, Matty and I finally arrived at the evening's destination. As we walked up the brick street towards the bar, only an hour late (not bad for us!), I admired the charming glow of the multicoloured Christmas lights which framed its otherwise unassuming doorway.

As Matty pulled the door open for me, we were hit by the overwhelming sound of people yelling and laughing as a cheesy recording of Toto's 'Africa' blasted throughout the bar. As we entered the long room, which boasted even more of the same yellow, orange and red Christmas lights which cast a warm glow over the whole bar, along with strings of coloured pennants along the ceiling, we searched the tables for the rest of the band.

Suddenly, a familiar voice rang through the speakers, singing the opening line to 'Africa' along with the track which played. I stood for a second processing what was happening, then Matty and I turned to each other at the same time with identical looks of astonishment and realization. At that moment, I realized two things. First, that we were at a karaoke bar. And second, that the voice I recognized, the one currently crooning the lyrics to the second verse of 'Africa', was none other than my friend, my boyfriend's best friend, and the 1975's drummer, George Daniel's.

We rushed over to the small crowd which stood surrounding a tiny stage in the back corner of the bar, pushing through to get to the front, breaking through just as George began to belt:

"IT'S GONNA TAKE A LOT TO DRAG ME AWAYYY FROM YOUUUUTHERE'S NOTHING THAT A HUNDRED MEN OR MOOOORE COULD EVER DOOOO"

George's face lit up with joy as he saw us break into the front of the crowd. We screamed the lyrics along with him as I felt several arms wrap themselves around me. I turned to see Jamie, Ross and Polly throwing their arms around both of us, drunkenly happy to see us. We all danced and shouted and laughed together as George performed and waved his full pint of beer all over the stage, by the end of which was entirely empty.

Afterwards, once Matty and I had a full fresh pint of beer in our hands each, and George two, he slung his arms around our shoulders, sloshing beer everywhere as we walked towards a table near the middle of the bar where Adam, John and Gabrielle all sat, smiling up at us.

"I've missed you two," he said happily as one of the other bar patrons began to sing a song I didn't recognize, "Do you know how much I love you both?"

"I didn't take you for such a sop, George," I teased, overwhelmed by the candidness of his declaration. He looked down at me with a giant grin.

"And I didn't take you for a Brit," he rebutted. "You're definitely spending too much time with Matty- we must preserve your Canadian-ness," he said as he plopped down in an empty seat at the table.

"Oh?" I responded in question, pretending not to hear Matty's giggle as we both remembered what happened the last time Matty teased my new vocabulary... "And how do you suggest we do that?" I asked as Matty pulled out the seat next to George for me to sit in. I turned around and smiled at him in thanks. He leaned down to kiss me in return, then as he smiled back at me, lingered for a few moments, then winked at me. My stomach flip-flopped.

Once we broke eye contact, I watched Matty sit down beside me as I felt something large and heavy land in my lap. I looked down to see a giant tattered binder that read 'KARAOKE' in big black letters.

"I'm certain they've heard of Celine Dion at least once in Panama," George said with a cheeky smile.

"Ohhh, no no no, there's no way I'm going up there," I said as I tossed the binder back onto the table and crossed my arms. Everyone began to protest.

"Oh please, Anna!" Matty begged along with the rest of the table as his hand replaced the binder on my lap. I felt his skin through the sheer material of my dress. I subdued a shiver- somehow his touch still made my heart skip a beat.

"Guys, there's literally no way in hell I'm getting up there and singing in front of a group of literal rock stars- I can't sing," I said as I shook my head.

"Hey, that's not fair!" George protested, "Not all of us are rock stars! Ross just stands there and looks pretty."

We all burst into laughter, buzzing with happy energy as Ross shook his head disappointedly, trying to hide the smile on his face.

"But George is right," Matty said as everyone's laughs faded. "That actually isn't fair of Anna to say," he said looking at me as he spoke to the group, "She's a beautiful singer. She has the loveliest voice. She even plays a little guitar!"

I shot daggers at Matty as he bragged about me, but he just continued to smile.

"Oh don't be modest, darling!" he said with a little scowl. I opened my mouth to object but George interrupted me.

"No, it's true! I've heard a recording myself- she's got this little angelic voice!" George said as he reached out and pinched my cheek. I scowled at him as everyone at the table started to shout at me to sing. A minute later everyone was banging on the table rhythmically and chanting, 'A-nna, A-nna, A-nna!' over and over. I sunk into my seat and hid behind my hands in humiliation.

Matty rubbed my leg comfortingly, then squeezed my thigh to get my attention as he leaned in toward me.

"Sing me a song, darling," he asked with giant begging eyes, "Please?"

I melted at his pleading face. How could I say no? I sighed dramatically, then uncrossed my arms and stood up to talk to the MC to submit a song.

After I sat back down, we'd just finished our second round of drinks and were about to take the shots Ross had bought for the table when they called up my name to the stage. Everyone looked over at me, and without hesitating, I immediately downed my shot of tequila, then took George's out of his hand and downed his too. I hopped up from the table, ignoring George's complaints as I headed over to the stage. Everyone stood up with me and walked over to join the crowd as I stepped up on stage, not letting myself stop to think even once about what I was about to do for fear of bolting directly out the door and into the night.

As the intro of Frankie Valli's 'Can't Take My Eyes Off You' began to play, I looked into the small crowd in front of me and found the glow of my favourite pair of eyes looking up at me. I gravitated toward their warmth, Matty's smile soothing my nerves slightly. I took a deep breath and began to sing the verse to him, like we were the only ones in the room. The way he smiled up at me morphed my anxious nerves into excited ones- he was so absurdly handsome in the soft red glow of the room, I felt giddy just looking at him.

People in the crowd began to whoop and cheer and scream the horn line as the song ramped up. Finally, when the chorus hit, I belted it out as everyone in the crowd, as well as the rest of the bar, screamed the lyrics along with me. I happily watched as everyone danced below me, Matty and George hooking their arms through each other and prancing in circles as Ross twirled Polly, Hann and Gabrielle and John doing the can-can. As terrifying as it was, it was exhilarating, and I loved every moment of it.

When the song finished and I finally stepped off stage, what felt like a million hands clasped around me, my knees buckling from their weight. I couldn't hold back my giddiness, laughing as I fell. Everyone helped me up, then praised me, showering me with compliments and pumping me up as another bar patron went up on stage.

As we all began to head back to our table, the crowd parted, and like in a movie, I saw Matty standing there, waiting patiently for me. He stepped over to me in two quick strides before picking me up in his arms and spinning me around, but I didn't notice any of it. All I could focus on was the way he beamed up at me as he spun me in the air, smiling at me so proudly, his eyes shining bright with joy. As he set me down, he pulled me in to kiss me, pressing his pride into my lips over and over, making me giggle as he did.

"My little rockstar," he said in my ear just to me as we finally pulled apart, looking down at me with a cheeky smile. He took my hand to lead me back to our table, squeezing it tightly as we walked. "You were brilliant," he said as he pulled out my chair for me. I thanked him with scarlet cheeks, overwhelmed. As I sat down, he pulled out his own chair and tucked it right up against mine, as close to me as possible, then put his arm around me pulling me in close against him.

"I feel like I finally understand what it's like for our fans when I look at them on stage," he turned to me as the rest of the table returned to their own conversations. "I thought I was about to melt into a puddle every time you looked at me up there," he said, trailing his finger along my thigh as he spoke. He looked down at my lap before adding quietly, "I could've sworn I was the only man in the room and you were singing just to me."

"I was," I replied honestly. Matty looked up at me with wide eyes, and his face broke into another huge smile, making my heart flutter all over again.

"Well that's a disappointment, I thought that was all for me," I heard George say as he leaned into me on my other side, grinning cheekily at me.

The three of us laughed and fell into conversation about karaoke songs, discussing the best and worst possible choices. We had just been laughing about the thought of someone performing 'Tequila' by The Champs, when Matty announced he was going to the bathroom.

"Would you like another?" Matty asked, gesturing at my empty pint glass.

"Yes please," I nodded. He pointed at George with raised eyebrows and he nodded as well.

"I'll grab us another round on my way back," he said. He kissed my cheek sweetly and stood up. Then, as if reading my mind how I already missed the way his leg pressed up against mine and the way his arm wrapped around me like a warm blanket, he leaned down to my ear and whispered, "I'll be quick, I promise. I miss you already," before pressing one more kiss onto my temple and shooting me a little smile and a wink before disappearing into the thick of strangers.

"I just wanted to say... Thank you again for coming, Anna," I heard George say to me. I turned to find his face earnestly looking at me as he placed his hand on my arm in thanks. "I really mean it. I know you know how much it means to him, but you'll never know how much it means to me. So thank you."

I looked into his eyes and noticed how they didn't light up all the way- how something dark lingered in behind his appreciation. I could tell there was more to this, but I wasn't sure how to approach it.

"I would do anything for Matty," I said. I meant it, and I knew George knew that too. He smiled at me when I said this, squeezing my arm as I opened my mouth, pausing with hesitation. I didn't want to pry too much, but something told me George would be open to it.

"I get the feeling that there's more to this," I began tentatively, "than what either of you have told me..." I left the sentence open-ended in the hopes of George filling in the blanks for me. He looked down at his nearly empty pint before downing the rest, then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and took a deep breath.

"Did Matty ever tell you about Steph?" he asked looking back at me.

My heart stopped. I knew Matty must have had plenty of exes, and I wasn't stupid enough to think I was the only love of his life, but to hear a name... Something about it felt too real, too threatening. I didn't like it, but I pushed my jealousy aside and shook my head, more concerned with what George had to say next.

"They weren't together for very long- maybe five, six months tops? They had a bit of a whirlwind romance. I remember he was careful at first. He tried to go slow, but the more time they spent together, the faster he fell. They had everything in common, and she was positive and optimistic, like a little ray of sunshine amidst the self-identity crisis that had been brewing within Matty over the years prior. He was so drawn to her- she seemed tailor-made for her."

I swallowed the lump that grew in my throat and tried to relax my stomach as it tensed up. I mostly failed. George continued.

"I was always weary about her- I didn't like her, and I couldn't figure out why," George said, and I had to try very hard not to let my smugness at this show. "Eventually, it all fell apart and began to make sense... Turns out she was tailor-made for him- she had lied about everything. When they first met, she pretended she didn't know who he was but it turns out she was a super fan- she'd figured out the places he frequented and staged their whole first meeting. She knew everything about him and used it all to make herself seem like his dream girl- yeah, I know, it was foul," George said, looking at my jaw which dropped open in shock. A moment ago I was jealous of this girl, but now, I felt nothing but pure hatred.

"It got even worse," George continued. "Matty found out she had been sending screenshots of their conversations to her friends. She also took all these pictures and videos of him without his knowledge or permission and would send those along, as well as the ones he'd taken that he thought were just for the two of them. I think she also was spending his money on clothes and shit for herself and her friends. I remember he flew a couple of her friends out for some shows and they went on some crazy shopping spree with his card. I don't think Matty cared that much about that, but I was fuming about it because I'm pretty certain they didn't ask beforehand..."

"That is so awful..." I said in disbelief as I shook my head.

"Yeah, it was mental. The breakup was big and messy and it really fucked Matty up for a long time... He'd already been having these identity and trust struggles outside of the relationship beforehand, and he'd been flirting with escapism with drinking and other things... but after he found out about Steph's charade, that's when he really fell apart," George explained. "I was really worried he was going to go in that direction again when we left London- I hadn't seen him so distraught since that breakup," George said, before shrugging to himself and adding, "But he seems to be doing great again, now that you're here."

"And you think that's because of me?" I asked tentatively.

George pondered thoughtfully.

"Yes," he answered bluntly. "I mean, he's a grown man and he's more than capable of taking care of himself, but the bloke's been through the wringer- it's not his fault he crumbles when the good things in his life disappear. It's like this," George turned to me fully, using his arms to explain, "His highs are so high- much higher than what a normal person would experience. But his lows are so much lower because of that, and I think he's still learning how to cope with that. Because at the end of the day, as popular as he is, he's just a normal bloke. I mean, he's not- the man's mad," George smiled cheekily as he propped his elbow on the back of his chair and rested his head in his hand, "But he's just a guy. And if you take anything from any of this, it should be that the way he feels about you... Look, I can't speak for Matty, but I know him better than anyone and I've seen what he's been through, and of all the highs I've seen him at... you're his highest. Easily."

I looked at George wide-eyed, stunned. He smiled at me kindly before taking hold of the Song Book and rifling through its pages, leaving me to my thoughts.

I sat in silent reflection as I processed everything George had just told me. It really started to sink in just what Matty had to deal with, and why we had the connection we had. It was wild to think how two people who'd gone through their own versions of hell, who were given every reason to lose hope and become distrustful and jaded about love, could trust one another so easily. Trusting Matty felt like breathing. It was effortless. And knowing how he'd gone through all of that and still treated me with so much care and affection... I always knew what we had was special, but it wasn't until now that it really hit me.

Without thinking twice, I stood up from the table and turned to find the bar. I pushed my way through groups of people and emerged to find Matty's back, standing patiently as the bartender poured a pitcher of beer in front of him.

I came up behind him, placing my hands on his waist, then wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him tightly. I felt him turn back to see who the hands belonged to, his body relaxing as he realized they were mine. He placed his hands on my arms, loosening my tight grip just enough to let him turn around in my embrace. Before he even finished turning to face me fully, I reached up on my tip toes and kissed him ferociously. I felt his shock at my urgency, which dissipated quickly as he sunk into me. His arms enveloped me as he kissed me harder, matching my level of passion. We kissed like we were alone. It felt like we were, even amidst the crowded bar which buzzed with drunk and happy people. But no one was happier than me. No one. It was almost too much.

"I love you so much," I said emphatically as we parted.

Matty smiled at me curiously as he took my hand in his, our fingers interlacing.

"I love you too, my darling," he said sweetly, cocking his head to one side, but I shook my head. He raised his eyebrow in question.

"No. I love you greedily, incessantly, naturally, necessarily, urgently, easily... I've never felt love like this before. I don't think anyone has ever felt love like ours," I said, my intensity registering with Matty as his face morphed into something more serious. 

He slowly nodded his head in understanding as his eyes looked back and forth between mine. His mouth tensed slightly and I saw his chest shake slightly as he inhaled deeply.

"Sometimes, not often, but sometimes I worry that maybe I'm the only one who feels this way..." he said as he looked down at our hands. "That maybe we're both in love, but that this feeling I feel- this intensity, this overwhelming, other-worldly love I feel- that maybe I'm the only one who feels this way," he said. His eyes returned to mine, sparking as he saw me shaking my head.

"I think it's safe to assume that whatever you're feeling," I said to him as I let go of his hand and wrapped my arms back around him, "I feel ten-fold."

Matty smiled back at me, then bit his lip and shook his head before responding. 

"Only if you assume the same with me- except make it a hundred-fold," he winked cheekily as he pulled me in for a hug.

His hands wrapped around me, his strong arms enveloping me. I tucked myself into his chest, breathing his comforting scent in as I tightened my hold.

"Can we go?" I asked Matty quietly.

He did a double-take, certain he misheard my quiet words in the loudness of the room.

"You were right," I continued as I looked up at him. "I don't want to do anything but lay in bed with you all night..."

His eyes melted at this and he smiled at me in adoration.

Instead of telling me 'I told you so' as I deserved, he kissed me gently on the forehead, then whispered in my ear, "Whatever you like, my darling," before taking my hand and walking us out the door and into the warm summer night.

[murderoushagthesequel]

marauders era characters and whether i think they're good singers or not

Sirius Black: thinks he has the voice of an angel. more has the voice of a vulture. subjects everyone to his awful singing whenever he can. remus hates listening to music in his presence because he always ruins it.

James Potter: could be a good singer if he tried. but he prefers just screaming on to lyrics. "reggieeee it's more fun that way!" regulus is not impressed. he doesn't let james choose the music in the car anymore. when he and sirius duet it's a true nightmare.

Remus Lupin: decent singer but will not sing unless it's along to another song. if the music cuts out an he's still singing, you'll never see him again. that mf is fleeing to another country.

Peter Pettigrew: surprisingly a great singer, and he knows it. usually only pulls out the singing for karaoke, but if somebody asks him to sing, well, how can he say no? "WORMTAIL THAT IS THE THIRD TIME YOU'VE SERENADED A GIRL THIS WEEK SHUT THE FUCK UP"

Mary MacDonald: this girl is a singer. like she wants to become a popstar and she will if she puts her mind to it. like she's got the voice for pop-punk. she'll do an impromptu concert during a party and everybody loves her and is in love with her for it.

Lily Evans: she is a choir/theater kid. don't lie to me and say otherwise. this girl got up on stage and sang her heart out to the music man in sixth grade (seventh year). she was the soloist in all her choir shows. she's a good singer and she knows it but she's humble.

Marlene McKinnon: likes to think she can sing, but can't. mostly sings when she's drunk. nobody has the heart to tell her she isn't the next celine dion. dorcas actually finds it quite endearing though. she loves watching movies with marlene when she insists singing along to the whole soundtrack

Regulus Black: amazing singer. like literally voice of an angel. but will put a knife to somebody's throat before they ever hear him sing. but blushes when james says he has a pretty voice. before threatening him at knife point. it doesn't exactly go to plan.

Dorcas Meadowes: she's a decent singer but doesn't like to sing. will only sing if marlene drags her to do karaoke. because she can't say no to marlene. and she's usually already blackout drunk.

Barty Crouch Jr.: listen, this guy is the next michael buble. he moonlights as a singer at cocktail parties and makes ladies swoon. evan is annoyed. think of barty as duke silver from parks and rec but with singing. that's the vibe. but nobody knows and he and evan pretend he can't sing for shit around their friends.

Evan Rosier: your pretty average singer. sounds good on some songs when he tries, bad on others. barty always claims he sounds perfect even when it's he's completely off-key.

Pandora Lovegood: she has two modes. literally heavenly, like the voice that sings you up to heaven when you die. or she sounds like she's choking to death. usually the latter is when she's drunk. don't ever ask her to do karaoke when she isn't sober, your ears will bleed.

[djmutt]

HELLidays Day 23 part 1: The Xmas Queen

Make way for Lilith, the tall queen of the holidays! My bets are on Celine Dion for voicing her in season 2.

[corner-stories]

when it's dark in a cold decembre (but i've got you to keep me warm)

Jean Kirschtein. Mikasa Ackerman. Kiyomi Azumabito. Holiday Visits. Awkward Family Dinners. Cuddles. Doggies. 4191 words. (ao3.)

Vancouver is a change of pace. Having grown so used to winters in Montreal — or even his hometown of Trois-Rivieres — arriving at YVR to rain instead of snow leaves him confused. 

At least Mikasa seems to find amusement in the poor Quebecer getting soaked in the drizzle. 

A rapid transit line takes them from the airport to downtown, then an Uber driver takes them the rest of the way. As the vehicle crosses the Lionsgate Bridge, Jean’s eyes are affixed to the window and towards the rainy city outside.

At this time of night, all he can see is artificial lights — buildings with glass exteriors standing amidst the ocean and coniferous trees. It’s just enough to let him see the outline of the mountains. Above it all are clouds in a dark sky. 

The car drives deeper into West Vancouver. The houses lining the roads are built with an emphasis on style and aesthetic, most of them looking to have been designed very recently with walls made of stone and glass. 

Mikasa had told him that her Auntie was wealthy, and as the car passes by a house with more driveways and outdoor entertaining space to do with, the sentiment rings true. 

Soon enough, the car arrives at the destination. 

The house Mikasa grew up in differs from the gray homes adorning the streets. When Jean sees it, his eyes go to the vinyl siding and the rugged roof tiles, attributes that make the craftsman home feel like an island in the ocean of stone and glass houses. 

Jean hoists his bags over his shoulder as the Uber driver takes off down the street. Mikasa walks from the street to the curb, comfortably taking her boyfriend’s hand as he looks at the house. 

“You like?” 

Jean nods, unable to take his eyes off the bulbs adorning the eaves. “I like the lights.” 

“Auntie likes them, too.” She then squeezes his hand and begins guiding him towards the house. 

Jean follows, keeping his eyes on the ground and watching her boots step into the puddles on the pathway. The rain is lighter here than it is at the airport, but it’s still enough for water droplets to collect in his hair. 

The two climb up the steps and Jean mentally goes over the backstory Mikasa had given him regarding her aunt. Kiyomi had grown up alongside Mikasa’s mother in Tokyo, and despite being cousins they acted a lot more like sisters. They even moved to Vancouver together to study. They had kept in touch even when Makoto married a local man while Kiyomi moved back to Japan.

It was no surprise that Kiyomi was the one who stepped up after Mikasa’s parents passed, gladly taking the nine-year-old in and giving her shelter in a time where she had none. She even decided to move back to Canada permanently to be near her niece. 

Despite coming from wealth, Kiyomi kept herself busy as a tenured professor at a local university. Giving lectures on international relations seemed to be her second priority on top of providing for Mikasa. Academia appeared to run in the Azumabito-Ackerman household. 

As Jean keeps reciting the lore in his head, he turns to Mikasa and asks a last-minute question.

“So… is there anything else I should know?” His voice is just slightly tinged with his signature wit. “You know, before the point of no return?” 

“Just be yourself,” Mikasa insists as her boots touch the top of the porch. “Besides, you both like sassing me and old school Celine Dion, in her mind you can do no wrong.” 

Jean makes a noise that’s in between an awkward laugh and a nervous chuckle. “That’s one way to look at things…” 

When the doorbell rings, what immediately follows is the sound of several dogs barking their heads off — one even sounds like a howl. Through the pane of glass in the door Jean can see two fluffy creatures with legs rushing to the door. After they yelp at the door for a few seconds, a person descends the stairs and gestures for said creatures to quiet down. 

Unsurprisingly, the act of wagging one’s finger at two rambunctious dogs does nothing to quell their screams. 

Nonetheless, the door opens and the pair of tired traveling grad students are greeted to the sight of Mikasa’s Aunt Kiyomi.

As to be expected, the older lady is smiling from ear to ear and immediately steps forward to embrace her niece. Mikasa herself gives a gentle grin as she hugs her Aunt back. 

“Mikasa!”

“Auntie.”

Jean gives them their space as they reunite. In the space between the doorframe and the door, he gets a better look into the house, taking note of the wooden floors, the warm lighting, the spotless walls. The whole place is impeccably clean, even with the two dogs running around.

Speaking of which, Jean also gets an eyeful of the canines standing behind Kiyomi — one is a samoyed with the doofiest grin he’s ever seen on a dog, and the other is husky with an abundance of fluffy fur. The husky in particular is letting out dramatic weeping noises as it looks at the visitors at the door. 

When aunt and niece separate, Kiyomi sets her eyes on Jean. 

“And is this the boyfriend I’ve heard so much about?” she asks. “Jean, right?”

Jean gives a nod and a polite smile. “That’s me.” He reaches out and shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Azumabito.”

Kiyomi is a head shorter than both Jean and Mikasa. Like her niece, her hair is dark, but she keeps it neatly combed and tied into a proper bun. 

The only woman looks him up and down, seemingly content with finally meeting him in the flesh. She even seems flattered by his formality. “Please, call me Kiyomi. And come in, you two must be soaked.”

Jean and Mikasa enter the home, bringing their luggage with them. He’s only been in Vancouver for an hour and he’s already relieved to get out of the downpour. 

As Jean shakes the water out of his hair, Mikasa kneels down to the two dogs of the Azumabito household. She beams sweetly at both the husky and the samoyed, both of which are excited to see her return. The husky in particular is wagging its tail so hard that its rear end is shaking. 

Back at McGill, Mikasa had spoken at length about her dogs back at home. Back at their apartment, there’s a photo of both the husky and samoyed as puppies pinned to their refrigerator.

Seeing the dogs in the fluff is significantly more enjoyable than seeing them in photo form. The sweet look of heartfelt joy on Mikasa’s face is also a bonus. 

“Yes, yes, I missed you, too,” says Mikasa as the husky kisses her cheek. 

Kiyomi immediately proves to be a cordial host. She takes Jean’s jacket without being prompted, hanging it up on a nearby coat rack. She then reaches for the luggage and grabs the first two bags she can find. 

“It’s been raining all week,” the older lady says. She takes a pair of backpacks to a nearby closet. 

“Has it?” asks Mikasa. 

There is an irked, gravelly tone to Kiyomi’s voice as she replies. “Unfortunately.” 

Mikasa lets out a hum, which is her way of laughing. “That’s a Vancouver Christmas for you.” 

Jean chuckles as he rubs his freezing hands together. Now free from the constraints of his parka, he kneels down to get to Mikasa’s level and looks at the pair of dogs. 

“Hey, I’ve heard a lot about you two,” he says, petting the head of the cheery samoyed. “So… which one’s which again?”

Mikasa gestures to the husky lovingly licking her cheek. “This one’s Mochi…” She then points to the white fluff ball. “...and this one’s Miso.” 

Jean can’t help but chuckle, a throaty one that makes the corners of his mouth turn up. 

Somehow, he’s getting the feeling that he’ll enjoy the holidays here. 

…

…

…

Dinner is a simple affair, though Kiyomi uses it as an excuse to break out a bottle of red from the cellar. Christmas may be a few days away, but her beloved niece returning home is a good reason to celebrate. She serves dishes that Mikasa has had throughout her childhood, only occasionally having to scold the dogs for putting their paws on the table. Evidently, Mochi absolutely drools in the presence of Kiyomi’s katsudon. 

And true to Mikasa’s words, Kiyomi is a fan of old-school Dion, as the singer’s Christmas album proceeds to play on the house stereo. 

Jean sits at the table and listens to aunt and niece catching up, taking note of the way Mikasa’s eyes light up as she speaks. Sometimes they’ll slip into Japanese in the middle of the conversation, only exchanging a few brief sentences before returning to English. It happens so smoothly that Jean can tell it’s just one of those habits the two share. 

And suddenly, he now knows how Mikasa feels when he switches into French with other francophones in front of her. 

A part of him is hesitant to chime in, as the flow of the conversation feels so fast. He’s also worried that he might spoil the joy of the reunion. 

So he spends the time petting Miso under the table while Mochi tries to steal some bites of okonomiyaki. At least the samoyed has begun taking a liking to him. 

Mikasa recalls to her Aunt Kiyomi exactly how she and Jean met. The story involved a social gathering for McGill grad students, as well as alcohol and a karaoke machine. Sometimes Jean thinks about how different things would have been had Mikasa not spilled wine on his shirt at the start of the party — he would have probably spent the night drunk singing instead of watching her trying to fruitlessly clean his clothes in the bathroom. 

Considering how many of his colleagues at the School of Architecture were attending the party, Mikasa had most likely saved his reputation before he even had one to destroy. 

Mikasa is in the midst of explaining her thesis to Kiyomi, detailing how she made the choice to specialize in plant pathology. Recently, she’s been studying a virus that has only been affecting flowers that thrive in cold weather. 

Jean loves it when she gets like this, so wrapped up in explaining her work that she’s talking more than she usually does. Truth be told, he can’t comprehend enough botanical science to truly understand what she’s talking about, but the fact that she can talk about trees and flowers like an artist talks about the Sistine Chapel is enough for him. Seeing the way she lights up as she talks about what she’s dedicating her life to is all he’ll ever need. 

Plus, Mikasa always seems tuned in when he goes on and on about architecture mumbo jumbo, even the stuff that he knows for a fact will bore people to tears. (“No one cares about the history of the pillar,” Sasha’s voice echoes in his head.) The least he can do is be an attentive boyfriend. 

“It’s nice to know that all those years away from home have done you good,” Kiyomi says, pouring herself a little more wine. 

“It has,” Mikasa assures. She then looks down and sees Mochi resting his chin on her lap with a loving look in his eyes.“But I can never stay away for too long…” 

Kiyomi looks amused. “Have you ever considered getting a dog?” 

“We have,” Jean finally speaks up. It’s telling of him that the one topic he’s more comfortable chining in on is pets. “But it’d be a hassle while we’re both still in school.”

Nonetheless, Kiyomi looks interested and listens intently. 

“We did dogsit for our friend Historia once — she’s got a terrier mix, we watched it for about a week,” Jean continues, then lets out a chuckle. “The poor guy would weep every time we crated him for the night, wouldn’t sleep unless he was in the bed with us.” 

Mikasa lets out a polite hum, reliving the memories of the two stressed grad students trying to curb a terrier’s energy inside their apartment. At least the little one was calm once he was allowed to sleep in the realm of the humans. 

“And our bedroom still has some of Donut’s dog hair in it,” Mikasa adds. 

Kiyomi spends a moment politely laughing along.

“Oh, speaking of which,” the older lady starts, eyeing the man currently petting the samoyed under the table. “Jean, I prepared the guest bedroom for you.” 

It does not take long for both Jean and Mikasa to understand the implications. Jean is suddenly plunged into a mix of embarrassment and confusion, a sensation that makes him pick up the fidgety mannerisms of a twelve-year-old boy. 

“Ah… thank you?” is all he can muster. Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck. 

Meanwhile, Mikasa’s sweet smile disappears from her pretty face and in its place is a glare directed at the hostess. 

“Auntie, I was under the impression that my room would be available for us,” she asks in a tone that’s the slightest bit stilted, perhaps to cover up her clear agitation. 

“Oh, certainly, Dear, it’s available for you,” Kiyomi explains simply. The way she says ‘dear’ is both motherly and condescending. “I’ve cleaned it and everything.” 

Mikasa starts to look more and more frustrated with every passing second. “I meant for both of us.” 

“Not in my house.” Kiyomi then reaches for the bottle in the middle of the table like nothing is wrong. “More wine, anyone?” 

Then just like before, Mikasa and Kiyomi slip into a tongue that’s foreign to Jean's ears. This time, instead of speaking Japanese for a sentence or two, the two engage into what can respectfully be referred to as a “passive aggressive debate.” 

Jean hasn’t learned enough Japanese to discern exactly what the two are saying, but the subject matter is enough to bring a blush to his cheeks. He didn’t anticipate that the concept of he and Mikasa sharing a room — despite sharing so much more back in their apartment in Montreal — would be such a hot topic in the Azumabito household. Apparently, Kiyomi had put a lot of thought into making sure that her niece and her niece’s boyfriend didn’t get too close.

Mikasa’s tone is composed, focused, the one she uses when she has to babysit freshmen undergrads all day. Yet it is laced with just enough persistence to prove that she’s not backing down without a fight. On the other hand, Kiyomi remains placid as she explains her point, continuing to act like there’s nothing wrong with her silly little rule. 

Suddenly, Jean’s wondering why he passed up on his mother’s offer to spend the holidays with her in Montpellier. 

To quell the uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach, Jean begins petting another dog — Mochi this time — and reaches for the bottle of red. 

“Some wine sounds nice, actually.”

…

…

…

Once dinner and the debate is over, the two jet-lagged grad students decide to retire for the night. It’s only 9 o’clock but it feels so much later than that. 

The outcome of the conversation has caused Jean to unpack his luggage in the basement guest room, whereas Mikasa is forced to do the same on the top floor. 

The last time Mikasa had stayed in her childhood bedroom, she was taking a break before heading onto grad school. She can remember the months she spent preparing to move across the country for a second time — the tables she waited to earn extra cash, the lessons she spent with a tutor to get a better grasp on French. Montreal was going to be a whole new beast compared to Toronto — where she had completed her undergrad — and every reminder of that was a sign that she needed to prepare. 

That era of her life was roughly two years ago, yet Mikasa feels like it’s a millenia away. 

Despite Kiyomi’s rule regarding her niece and her niece’s significant other, at least the bedroom is clean and cozy. Although the pictures and art on the wall have been removed, the sheets are clean and the blankets are soft, more than enough to help Mikasa survive the night. 

So alone in her room, Mikasa lies on a bed and reads a book, her usual habit whenever she needs to fall asleep. With the sound of rain hitting the roof and the two dogs napping at the foot of her bed, she almost feels like she’s in high school again, preferring to spend hours in her room just snuggling with Mochi and Miso. 

As Mikasa turns the page, she hears a light knock. Mochi immediately lifts his head from the cushions and watches the door open. Jean peaks in with a playful, almost boyish look on his face, knowing well that what he’s doing is a little mischievous. 

He steps into the room calmly, having changed from his traveling clothes to something a lot more comfortable. He’s wearing a pair of pyjama pants that Mikasa bought for him on a whim, as well as a flannel shirt that he’s buttoned sparingly. His hair is damp from a shower, ashy brown locks draping messily over his face. The stubble on his jawline and chin looks a bit thicker, more like a short beard. 

Knowing Jean, Mikasa wonders if he’s trying to entice her, as he knows exactly what she thinks when she sees him looking so disheveled. 

“What are you reading?” he asks, stepping barefoot into her room. He sits on the edge of her bed and starts petting Miso, who predictably reacts with a doofy grin. 

Mikasa looks away from her book. “One of Sasha’s romance novels — she lent it to me.”

Jean catches sight of the muscular man on the cover and raises an eyebrow. “Sasha reads romance?” 

“When she can,” Mikasa answers. “Vet school’s been taking up a lot of her time.” 

There is a beat — Mikasa continues reading and Jean continues petting the dog on the bed. He then notices something that brings a smile to his face. 

“You’re wearing my shirt.” 

Mikasa is nonplussed as she turns a page. “I know.”

Nowadays, Jean’s green button-front shirt finds itself in Mikasa’s care more often than his. He doesn’t seem to mind though. 

Mikasa changes the subject with ease. She looks up and affixes her gaze to his. “How’s the guest room? Cozy?”

“It is.” He nods his head, then his voice goes warm. “Not as cozy as this though.” 

Mikasa is quick to close her book and give him a knowing look. “Don’t get any ideas. I wouldn’t want Kiyomi to toss you onto the street.” 

Jean puts his hands up in mock defeat. “Trust me, I wouldn’t want that either.” 

Putting her novel away, she straightens her back and sits up. “I’m sorry you had to see the argument.” 

“It’s fine,” Jean shrugs. At least he’s good at taking things in stride. “What’s the holidays without some family bickering, huh?”

Mikasa lets out a sigh and looks down. “Unfortunately.” 

In hindsight, attempting to argue with Kiyomi in Japanese was somewhat pointless, as Jean most likely knew that they were talking about thanks to their mannerisms. Some things in the world are just made to transcend language barriers.

“But hey, I don’t wanna rock the boat.” He’s trying to keep a positive undertone to his voice. “I just wanted to say goodnight.” 

He moves on the bed a bit to sit next to her, gently cupping her face with his hand and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Mikasa closes her eyes and lets the gesture send a warm sensation throughout her entire body. The unease she had dealt with at dinner starts to fade away. 

With his palms still touching her cheeks, Jean presses a kiss to her lips. It’s gentle, sweet, and makes her want him to stay.

She puts her hands on his as they remain on her face, gently deepening their kiss as her forehead brushes against his. He’s warm, so warm.

Mikasa’s hands trail down to Jean’s shoulders, then to his chest — her thumbs start hooking into the hems of his shirt. 

But before anything more can happen, Jean pulls away. She can see the flustered look on his face as his breathing goes unsteady.

“I should go,” he insists, quickly buttoning up his shirt. 

Sensing the urgency Mikasa nods along. She then remembers that Kiyomi is still awake and currently relaxing one floor beneath them. 

Also, if they are to engage in any intimacy during the stay, she would rather do it without the dogs in the room.

Jean takes her hand and kisses it, a last gesture before he leaves. 

“See you in the morning, mon amour.” 

And when everything said is done, he leaves. Standing from the bed, he gives the dogs some last pets before walking out of the bedroom. He makes sure to give Mikasa one last assuring look before he is truly gone. 

Once the door is closed, Mikasa takes in a breath and rubs her face. Her palms are sweating. When she opens her eyes she is greeted to the sight of Mochi and Miso staring at her with their unblinking gazes. 

Her first instinct is to glare back. “Don’t judge me, I’ve seen you two dig up a hornet’s nest.” 

…

…

…

It’s 5AM when Mikasa wakes. The room is warm and so is the bed, yet when she reaches to the other side to only feel nothing it might as well be cold as ice. 

After opening her eyes, she spends a few moments staring at the ceiling and thinking about how tired she is. She may be on vacation, but parts of her are still in grad student mode. Her body has yet to comprehend that she’s not going to spend the day TAing or going over research notes.  

When Mikasa gets up, she notices that the dogs are no longer sleeping at the foot of her bed. With the bedroom door ajar, she surmises that Mochi and Miso have transitioned to sleeping in Kiyomi’s bed, as per usual. 

Being jet-lagged, Mikasa feels awake, but the kind of awake where one can either function for the day or go for a few more hours of slumber. She contemplates going for an early morning run to ease her nerves, then looks to the window to find that last night’s downpour has intensified. 

Vancouver is always rainy, but the kind of rain that makes it impossible to go outside feels truly constricting. 

Then an idea pops into Mikasa’s head, one attached to consequences but possible enough to pull off. She has to be careful though, so as quietly as she can she slips out of bed and steps onto the floor. 

The carpets dampen the noise of her footfalls as she makes her way through the hallway. When she sees Kiyomi’s bedroom door slightly ajar, she takes in the sight of her Auntie sleeping in between the world’s fluffiest dogs. Smartly, she makes sure to close the door. 

Mikasa descends the stairs to the first floor, moving past the furniture and framed photographs before approaching the basement entrance. The lower portion of the house is as cozy as the rest and when she arrives at the bedroom at the end of the hall she slips in without any hesitation. She makes sure to lock the door behind her. 

The guest room is warm, Jean’s belongings are scattered about. On a nearby chair is the shirt he had been wearing in her room and on the desk is one of his sketchbooks — he’s quite fond of traveling with at least one. The open page is filled with doodles of Mochi and Miso.

Jean is fast asleep on the bed, bare-chested and breathing gently. His eyes are closed and his hair is strewn in every direction. 

Mikasa doesn’t waste any more time. She slips under the sheets, her body easily finding his, and begins peppering kisses against his shoulder. 

With the sweetest touch, she trails her lips up his neck and onto his jaw. His stubble is soft and tickles her face. He lets out a hum, as he’s used to being woken up like this. His eyes are still closed as he shifts slightly, letting Mikasa easily pry herself under his arm. Soon she rests her head on his chest, where she always likes to be. He’s warm, warmer than her room upstairs. 

With all his strength, Jean manages to open his eyes just enough to see his girlfriend snuggling against him. The room is dark, but she can still see the sleepy smile on his beautiful face. 

“Couldn’t stay away?” 

“Not a bit.” 

Mikasa relaxes into him, letting his heartbeat become a gentle lullaby. In the sheets his hand finds hers and holds it tight, one of her legs hooking around his. She is content to drift off to sleep just like this.  

She’ll deal with the consequences later. 

[manicplank]

Your one PizzaHead post inspired me, so can we get some Karaoke headcanons?

HEHEHE YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN

The tower hosts karaoke night every now and again. So, who would participate, what would they sing, and who would win?

KARAOKE HEADCANONS!!!!

Peppino: Would absolutely participate and blow everyone away with how well he can sing. He would sing Jenny by Tommy Tutone

Gustavo: He would hesitantly participate. He would sing Out of Touch by Hall & Oates. He's a decent singer, and everyone was a bit shocked.

Mr. Stick: He would be so nervous to sing, but he'd choose Down Under by Men at Work. Probably isn't the greatest singer, but he ended up having fun.

Pepperman: He would PASSIONATELY sing My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion, absolutely no doubt in my mind. Everyone is amazed by how he hits the high notes.

The Vigilante: He wouldn't want to sing at first. After a few drinks, he'd confidently stumble up there and sing City of New Orleans by Willie Nelson a bit drunkenly.

The Noise: Rat man can sing, and he KNOWS it. He'd walk up to the mic with a huge grin on his face. He'd start with Wonderboy by Tenacious D only to be cheered on for an encore. For the encore, he'd sing All I Wanted Was You by Paramore.

Noisette: She's another great singer but thinks she isn't. She'd probably sing Pity Party by Melanie Martinez. She would be amazing but play it off as if it was bad.

Fake Peppino: Fakey usually doesn't sing. He doesn't necessarily know how to. But... The Noise taught him a song specifically for karaoke night. And that song is I Can Only Count To Four by Psychostick.

Pizzahead: As I said, he one time sang WAP by Cardi B and had the mic pulled away from him. But a different time, he sang My Way by Frank Sinatra. He also got to do an encore, which he sang Beyond the Sea by Bobby Darin.

Pillar John: He would sing Patient is the Night from Over the Garden Wall and shock everyone with his fantastic voice. He's surprisingly talented. He'd be cheered for an encore, which he'd sing Hotel California by Eagles.

Gerome: He would quietly go up to the mic just to murder it with the song Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd then walk off.

The winner with the most votes was tied between The Noise and Pizzahead. Peppino was pissed, he thought he was going to win for sure. A fight broke out between The Noise and Pizzahead. The Noise ended up winning by the last vote... The Vigilante drunkenly voted for him just to piss Pizzahead off.

But don't worry, Pizzahead won the next karaoke night (because The Noise wasn't invited).

(A few links are broken, so you'll have to look up the song. Other than that, everything seems to be good.)

[jamiesfootball]

🥐🌵🍓🍬🎱 -> any or all for your enrichment!!

All of this got long so under the cut to save people from scrolling it goes-

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

Not a reference (I don't think. I'll be real, I don't think I understand this question) but I sure do like that twink on tiktok what does the cooking

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

Please enjoy this nostalgia playlist of songs that have made me go 'how do I remember the fucking words to this' which I have appropriately named after a Celine Dion song.

There are two Celine Dion songs.

Toni Braxton is on it. So are The Cranberries.

The only two dudes to make the list are Boyz II Men and that guy from Sixpence None the Richer

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Questions about unpopular fandom opinions always throw me for a loop. I'll go with saying that season 1 Jamie has more emotional maturity than people give him credit for, especially in regards to him and Keeley's breakup.

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

After spending most of my life daydreaming elaborate scenarios, I tried to write some of them down when I was like twelve.

They sucked so I went back to drawing fanart, which I was getting pretty good at.

Then when I was 15 I started writing some of them down again. They were pretty good, but wildly disconnected from canon in many cases. I would write down bits, discuss them with friends (who were writers writing things), and then go back to doing other things (mostly art). I still have some of those somewhere, I think.

Then when I was 20, an art major, I started to realize that fuck man, I sure do need something to do that isn't more fucking art. At that point, I had a pretty good idea for writing voice and structure, as I'd been voraciously reading fic for a decade. I wrote some things. It was fun. I went back to doing art.

Then in 2015 a friend and I went and saw this movie, The Man From UNCLE, and it was really really good. Between the two of us, she was more of the writer, but as we spun up a whole sequel/story together she asked if I wanted to write any of it. I said yes. She would write the first draft and I would fill out other scenes, and both of us would workshop and storyboard and bits we got stuck on. Occasionally I would add in entire sections of scenes to flesh things out.

2016, same friend and I start doing another co-writing thing but this time for The Musketeers (BBC show). This time there was a difference- instead of friend writing scenes and me adding bits, there would be entire scenes I'd write and then she'd come back in and edit/add bits.

Then some real life stuff happened and I stopped writing.

Then I briefly got into batman and wrote some stuff there, but never finished or published it.

Then I briefly got into OFMD and wrote some stuff there, but never finished or published it.

Then last year I got into Ted Lasso because of some amazing fic and in the lead up to season 3 airing I was like 'I sort of....want to write something?' And I wrote some stuff. Then, emboldened by everyone else posting things I figured- hey! What if I actually wrote something, finished it, and published it!

So to answer your question: I've always been here, but in a very real way my answer is 'last year.'

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats 

Most of it is pre-Ted Lasso and doesn't feel like it should count since I wasn't doing the bulk of the work, so here is the adjusted to just Ted Lasso stats:

Fic Total - 6

User Subscriptions - 49

Kudos - 669

Comment threads - 78

Bookmarks - 146

Subscriptions - 170

Word Count - 30,040

Hits - 6,074