#*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*.

[plutonify]

Does anyone know how to edit recording names on voice memos?

You know, this app? ->

Also does anyone have any better recommendations for music apps like BandLab with free samples where I can use them to make instrumental concepts?

I like BandLab, but sample wise it’s only good for retro/disco concepts and not indie folk rock music like The Oh Hellos and The Crane Wives

[jinkookspencil]

stay | jjk

jungkook is drunk out of his mind, belting pop ballads in the middle of the night.... you had to check in on him

description/tw/tags: ~4k words / jungkook x (f) reader / one-shot / angst and fluff / friends to lovers / inspired by jungkook's recent lives!! i just had to :') / includes drunk, flirty jungkook and mentions of alcohol and drinking / oc stays sober / jungkook gets so drunk thinks he's having a steamy dream with oc gone wrong / feedback is always welcome and it's appreciated!! it's been a while since anyone really told me their honest thoughts on my fics 💗

Celine Dion’s voice blasting through your phone was not what you expected when you got a call from Jungkook, but it was enough for you to know exactly what he was doing. It was an odd thing, you realized. Jungkook never had never admitted to listening to Celine Dion, Taylor Swift, Adele, or any other musical queen you adored - he never protested when you blasted their songs through the car radio or when you belted out their songs during karaoke nights, but he never, ever sang along or reacted much either…. except for when he was drunk… except for when he was too drunk. And it was only ever when he was drunk and alone or drunk and with you. In front of his friends or to you when he was sober, he still pretended he couldn't name a Celine Dion song besides "the Titanic one." But you knew better. Between her iconic vocals through the phone, you could hear Bam’s dog collar jingling, Jungkook’s all over the place but still excellent singing and humming, and finally… sniffles. In the blink of an eye, you were in a cab on your way to his place, not hanging up and listening to him sing “My Heart Will Go On” and "All By Myself" over and over until you got there. Right at the brief moment of silence when the song ended, you knocked on the door, extra loudly and in your signature pattern, so he’d know it was you - but it seemed to only signal Bam, who obviously knew it was you before Jungkook did, jumping up and down even before his owner opened the door in confusion.

“Bamie-,” you giggle against the dog’s nose while he licks yours, Jungkook still disoriented when you look up at him.

“H-hiiiiii,” he forces a smile on his face after realizing you were actually there. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard Celine Dion, so I came,” you say, ruffling Jungkook’s long hair and plopping down on his living room couch. He’s still standing by the door, trying to realize the situation. “You must’ve drunk-called me while trying to choose a song, idiot. Or maybe you were trying to call someone else.” You push away the thought. “Anyways, I’m here to make sure you’re okay. And to see the secret Taylor Swift setlist later.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhh. I actually called you….” Jungkook nods, trying to remember if he did while you figure out what he meant. He chuckles, clicking his tongue before offering you the gigantic, half-filled stein in his hand. “Do you want some beer?”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything crazy, Koo. Don’t make me a problem, too.”

Jungkook holds back a smile while grabbing a second microphone and dramatically turning around, his long hair twirling behind him. “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.”

“Oh god, Jungkook,” you shake your head backwards. Were your persistent efforts at trying to get him to listen to Taylor Swift worth it if he was going to make such cheesy jokes? When you look up and see his scrunched-up nose and proud smirk, you have your answer. It was.

“Nah, I’m not done with my girl Cel-Celine Dion. You know, she’s a very good singer.” It’s only now, when Jungkook says the most obvious statement, do you notice how slurred his voice is. “I still haven't done these songs, yet. ‘The Power of Love' and 'It's All Coming Back To Me' - my… my drinking songs, join and let's GO!”

You watch Jungkook pace around his living room, belting out the song while holding his beer glass with an iron grip, and you can’t help but think about the floppy-haired boy in front of you rather than the not-so-careful steps and chugs he took mid-song, ignoring the mic in your hand. You could never count the days and nights you spent with Jungkook. It all started with the ‘Netflix and Chill’ nights. When he suggested it, you’d panicked until he insisted he meant actually chilling and watching Netflix - and whether it was cuddly, commentary-filled K-drama sessions or drunken fried chicken and reality show nights, you enjoyed every minute of it…. but more so when those nights evolved. As cute as though nights may be, they were topped. The caring, vulnerable nights where you’d slowly unravel a new emotional layer of yourself to the other and the moon - with no one else in the know… those were the ones that destroyed you and put you together again, all at once. You doubted Jungkook even had a deeper side to him until you both laid yourselves out in front of one another - little by little and without judgment or fear. You dreamed of the days the unraveling happened physically as well. When you’d see him during the days, and whether it was just the two of you or with your friends, it seemed as though the sun had an inkling of the bond that formed while she was away, shining a little brighter every time you saw his face, casting her beautiful golden rays onto the boy that shined just as brightly.

A confession forever rested on the tip of your tongue, ready to slip out whenever he flashed his bunny-toothed smile, scrunched up his perfectly round nose, or jokingly teased you. And yet… you never could say anything…. especially since you think you already did. It’s the real reason you vowed never to drink with Jungkook again - you could barely remember anything but the fleeting feeling of his lips on your forehead, being in his arms, and waking up in the morning in your underwear to see him shirtless on the floor beside the bed you lay on. Jungkook’s bed, you later found out - after a party he threw. You mainly remember walking into the kitchen and seeing his roommate and bestie Taehyung preparing breakfast in silence, which only made the morning more unbearable, given his god-awful cooking skills. You fled in minutes and, to this day, had no recollection or idea of what actually happened. Jungkook never said anything either, so you were certain you dreamt the entire ordeal. He stayed relatively the same, save for a few arm grazes that shocked you to your core - a little more than they used to. You almost consider forcing him to watch a K-drama or a horror film - just for the cuddle he'd end up giving you.

But you were here, watching him passionately wrap up a ballad and wiping away a tear that formed in his eye. He was unbelievable.

“I didn’t think she could make you cry.”

“Yeah, well, she sang the Titanic song too, didn’t she? Don’t you know me?”

“I do, Koo,” you whisper into the microphone he had handed you.

“It’s all coming back to me too. It all ends when I'm with you. And my heart will go on, Celine... You get me, Celine,” he utters as he plops down beside you, his hand outstretched behind you as he selected a song, neglecting Bam by his legs.

“Bam wants attention.”

“He always gets my attention,” Jungkook says, eyes fixated on the TV in front of him.

“I’m gonna use that line on you the next time you give me the eyes he’s giving you now.” Jungkook was always a master at pouting and the classic puppy-dog eyes, and in the split second he looked confused, you begin to wonder if it was never intentional. But he quickly looks at his pet and babies him when catching the dog’s neediness, giving you the freedom to grab the remote and pick a song.

“Remember, only pop queens,” he insists in a baby-like voice, his eyes and hands still on Bam. And you found just that - a playlist of nothing but tracks from pop queens, most on your regular playlist. Meaning you knew almost every word, and so did Jungkook. Two hours of singing later, Jungkook’s honey voice and your scratchy one both grew tired. Music videos it’d be, you thought - still in total control of the remote. By the third music video, you were bored - you’d seen them all before, while Jungkook - or more specifically, drunk Jungkook - was mesmerized. And in a flash you neglected the screen altogether, staring instead at the boy right beside you. With your hand on your chin, you study him. You never could when he was sober - his eyes would immediately find yours, and one of two things would happen next: you’d look away in embarrassment, or he’d would pull a funny face. But this was different. He was focused, well, as much as a drunk person could be, softly humming along or murmuring something about the camerawork or costume design - you could barely hear whatever it was he said. Sure, his face looked puffy and drunken, even in his dimly lit apartment…. but he was beautiful. He was beautiful in his side profile, his stare and concentration, the fluffiness of his hair, and the gigantic, soft, muscled arm he flexed beside you. He had no idea just how beautiful he was—just being.

You must’ve been staring for too long because Jungkook turns, catching you - as he always did. You expected it and waited for him to stick out his tongue jokingly, scrunch up his nose, or wiggle his brows… something goofy. The last thing you expected was the softest smile that crept up on his face - the wonder in his eyes remaining, the way you’d been looking at him. And just like that, you look away again, thinking you’d be able to stick it out this time and ignore his presence entirely or make a funny face of your own. You want to frown, but the stinging in your cheeks hurts too much from smiling at him.

“What’s up with you?” he giggles for a very brief moment before repeating the question with that same damn smile on his face. In your periphery, you see him ruffle his hair and you dig your nails into your skin to stop you from reaching out and doing the same.

“Nothing,” you let out, feeling his gaze on you as you looked towards the screen and Bam sleeping just beneath it. A whole music video later, the feeling of his eyes on you grew unbearable. He didn’t even look away when he continued to drink from the glass in his hands.

“Find something better to do, Koo,” you say, folding your arms and mustering up the courage to look at him.

“Hmmm?” the drunken, dazed smile on his face was goofier and sweeter than ever.

“I want a glass of water,” you say, looking towards the fridge, hoping he’d be a good host and stand up to get you one, finally breaking his gaze in the process.

“Well, I want you.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. As if you weren’t being tortured enough by his adorableness already... did the flirty side have to make an appearance? But it wasn't a surprise. Jungkook flirted all the time, definitely more than usual when he’s tipsy. It was so excruciating that you damn near scolded Jimin and Chan, the friends he’d picked up the flirting from. All you wanted to say was that you wanted him too, but he’d never mean it the way you did. The giggle he let out when you rolled your eyes proved it - he just liked seeing you all riled up.

“I’m thirsty, JK,” you whine, but he keeps giggling. “Yah, drunk boy - get me a glass of water,” you insist, poking his tattooed arm and letting your finger rest there - he winces between his little laughs, touching the skin and a little of yours.

“Jungkoooook. Don’t ignore me,” you pout.

You don’t know what it is, but something about those three words makes Jungkook jump up from his spot, his laughter fading quickly as he walked over to the fridge, covering his face with his hands.

“Don’t do that,” he mutters.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t…,” he starts before clearing his throat. “Don’t poke me like that. I’m old and sore now. Your Jungkook works hard in the gym and can’t handle it like he used to.”

Your Jungkook. If only you could send him off on another errand to make you forget about him and those words for a moment. But, alas, you were in his apartment. He was too drunk. Bam was stirring in his sleep.

Jungkook returns a freshly filled stein for himself, a glass of water for you.... and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses on his face. The ones he only ever wore at home, during your late-night visits, that none of his friends ever saw. The ones that always fed your delusions of the domestic days with Jungkook you wished you could have for the rest of your life.

“Sure, you don’t want a sip?” A frozen glass swings into your line of vision, snapping you out of your daze.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“…..Shame…” he whispers into the glass as he chugged down half of its contents before setting it down and hiding his face in his arms, folded on the edge of the couch.

“Don’t judge me for not drinking. Just look at the state of you.”

“I’m not. It’s… it’s a shame that that’s what you’re the surest of. What happened to being sure of yourself, hmm?”

You weren’t in the mood for one of your deep talks, which was unusual for you. You usually would jump at any opportunity to talk to Jungkook, even when he was drunk - like the time he spat out a life lesson he learned in the third grade you’d never thought of in your entire life. He was the only person who ever made it safe enough for you to express your deepest fears and insecurities. His honest and supportive advice pushed you through. And you longed for the soft embrace he always gave you afterwards. It’s been weeks since you had one of those talks, days before the night/morning that was somewhere between a dream and a glitch in the matrix. But you couldn’t go there. You couldn’t bear to. Not tonight. Not with a drunk, floppy-haired, adorable, and out of-his-mind Jungkook that was adorable as ever, laying next to you singing pop ballads for hours. It’d have to wait.... even if he didn't want to.

“Tell me, what happened to being sure of yourself? Your thoughts, your ambition….your desires and feelings…” he slurs, waving his arm.

“I don’t know, Kookie,” you let out, grazing his arm. You can’t tell him that you’re sure you love him in more ways than one and that you’re not sure what to do about it.

“If you’re sure of something, act on it. If you’re not, still do it. Better to live with regrets with lessons learned than to never know,” he murmurs, his face resting on his elbow.

“So, can I commit a crime then?” you try to joke and change the mood.

“If you want to, sure. Oh, wait, don't. You've already committed one. I almost forgot," he nods, taking another sip of his beer. "You stole my heart."

"Fuck off," you laugh, reaching out to pinch his thigh instead of the arm he told you to avoid... "We'll talk about this another time, Kookie. Give me actual advice then."

"Okay, but I'll tell you some now. Try being sure of what you want in life. Act on it. Start that business you always wanted to. But I’m thinking.... start with.. a smaller step. Get that tattoo you always talked about. I’ll take you,” he says with a clear voice now, smiling as he looked up and brushed the inside of your arm, where you’d always talked about getting a tattoo. “I’m sure of what I want.”

“As always,” you say with a laugh. “What is it this time?”

“I told you. I want you.”

“Oh shut up,” you say, lightly shoving him this time, but he doesn’t budge, not even a little bit, nor does he giggle as he did earlier, just continues to stare at you and try to hold back…. something. You assume it’s a joke.

“Jungkook, stop - this isn’t funny.” You reply before you could even realize the words he’s saying.

“I’m not being funny.”

You stop and finally look at Jungkook’s face. He desperately tries to avoid your gaze but soon can’t help but look into your eyes - his were dilated and red from all the alcohol.

“You’re drunk,” you spit out, repeating the words softly.

“I am. But I’m sure of it when I’m sober, too,” he says, fidgeting with his fingers before playing with yours. “I’m sure that I want you. I was always sure. And I’m sure I want to hold your hand.” You can’t explain why you allow him to do so, knowing his state, and soon, his fingers find the ends of your hair and the base of your neck, grazing the skin there while his thumb rubs at your cheek. “I’m sure I want to -” he whispers against your lips, and you can’t help but jump at the very instance you feel his breath against your lips.

“Jungkook, no,” you lean back, holding the tears in your eyes and hoping he doesn’t feel the goosebumps on your skin. “Jungkook, you’re drunk.”

He immediately lets go of you, and you feel the world crumble in that brief moment, in fear you’d thrown away the only shot you had at the only thing you were sure you wanted, clinging onto the hope that he'll forget it all in the morning. But instead he shakes his head and looks… confused.

“It doesn’t go like this. This is weird,” he drawls, looking at his hands, you, Bam, and the rest of the apartment.

“What?” you say, just as confused as he seems to be, ignoring a sinking feeling in your stomach at the idea that Jungkook was confused his attempts at kissing girls never went “like this” - with a rejection that you didn’t want to give him.

“It doesn’t go like this! I’m… And you’re…. You’re here, but…. you’re not wearing any clothes. Why am I? Did we not get to that part of it yet?”

“Part of what?”

But Jungkook takes a look around the apartment again before quietly murmuring to himself. “This is a weird sex dream.”

Oh. OH.

He continues, thinking he's asleep.

“We’ve done this so many times, and it never went like this. I… Can’t you at least want me back in my dreams? Why… why is this dream different?”

”Jungkook…”

“Shhhh,” he lazily brings a finger to your lips. “Let me recap. It’s the same. My apartment’s the same. Why is Bam here? He’s usually in the other room. I’m here. You’re here. Wait…. are you?”

“I… I am, Jungkook.”

“No you’re not. You won’t be when I open my eyes.” he pouts, hiding his face in his elbow again.

“It’s like… It’s like that time I put you in bed when I found you drunk in your underwear in the corner at my party after you just… what did you do? Didn’t you say you just wanna dance in your underwear or some shit? Then you… said you wanted me to see you like that. I tried so fucking hard not to look. I put you to bed, and I at least expected to get some reality of waking up beside you, but… you weren’t there.

And I wanted to confess last night during karaoke, with all your favorite songs but... I didn't think I actually called you. It was just practice. Then I was so nervous I drank way, way too much, and I must've passed out. And now you're not even naked in my dreams - well, tonight's dream anyway... Is it because of the stress? And wait, why am I wearing glasses? I don't have you OR perfect vision in this dream?!" he pouts, taking off his glasses and throwing them across the couch before resting his head on his elbow, in his hands, and all over as he struggles with the realization.

Jungkook stays like that for a good minute, giving you time to take in the situation. Firstly, you’d never drink unsupervised at a party again because what the fuck… But you quickly remind yourself that it didn’t matter too much. He put you in bed. He saw you in your underwear and knew that you - or at least a part of you - wanted to be with him in that way. And not only that, he wanted to see you that way too. He wanted to wake up next to you. And Jungkook, awake and drunk, thought he was in a regular sex dream he had… with you…. and was upset at the idea of waking up without you beside him…. again. He wanted to confess. If his hands on your skin hadn't ignited your skin, the touch of him lingering there, you’d be certain you were dreaming too. He… he must’ve really been sure. Who were you to doubt that? He’s Jungkook.

Your hand reaches out to touch his face, not even knowing what you were about to say to him, but it didn’t matter. By the time you look back at him, he was already passed out, the pout still on his face, buried in his arms. Still beautiful. Any gentle attempt at waking him up proved to be futile - and more for you than it was for him. The cheek grazes, the head scratches, the arm squishes - finally yours to touch after he’d been flexing in his short-sleeves all night long. There was no way it hurt like it said he did. Standing up and tugging his arm until he got on his feet nearly did it, and you had to help his drunken and dazed self all the way to his bed. He was just awake enough to lie down on his own.

You stare at him on the bed below you, and with the quiet chirping of the birds outside his window and the early sunlight streaming in below his curtains…. you knew this was the most peaceful moment you had ever experienced in your life, so you took it all in. He'd forget about this tomorrow, but you'd remember it for the rest of your days.

When you suspected Jungkook finally drifted off to sleep again, you reluctantly turned away from the scene and made your way to his bedroom door.

“Stay.”

You’re unsure you heard correctly, but he repeats the word.

“Stay…. please.”

Turning back, you see Jungkook’s tattooed arm outstretched toward you. Inviting you in.

With the serenity of it all and your heart laid out in front of you, it was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Especially since he wasn’t the only one that was up all night. You turn over the covers, holding Jungkook’s hand before gently snuggling into his arms…. and just like that he passes out for real, a soft moan and a snore escaping him instantly. You could dash out. You could run, try to forget the night and hope he does too. But you don’t. Because he’ll wake up. Because he's sure. And because you’re sure too. And you’ll be there to tell him.

[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.

[aphroditesmoon]

here with me

joel miller x reader

summary: you've had better days, but as long as he's with you, you wouldn't ask to be anywhere else.

warnings: age gap (reader is 34), fluff, used both game/show Joel for inspo.

a/n: hope u guys like this<3

°°°

The car tank was gonna run out sooner or later. It was a bit nerve-wrecking that it had to happen around an abandoned neighbourhood.

Your feet are eating you up, the pain shooting up at the sole. Joel seems to feel the same way as he decides to search an abandoned mansion. You roll your eyes at his choice of house. "You couldn't have picked anything more lowkey?"

"What can I say, I'm a man of taste." He replied nonchalantly.

You scan the kitchen and laid eyes on the wrapping papers and finished Cheetos package.

"Someone was here, Joel." You called out, picking up the wrappings and waving it up for him to see. He nods and keeps searching.

"That's either a good thing or a bad thing, keep looking out." He orders. You sighs lowly before heading upstairs. The floor was wooden, smoothed out, and as wrecked as the house looked like, you can see the potential, with everything cleaned up a bit, a little redecorating going on.

You eye the large grandfather clock hanging on the wall, somehow still surviving despite the other furnitures destroyed. Though pretty, it doesn't work anymore unfortunately.

As you glance next to the wall, empty picture frames that hang next to the clock makes you frown.

The owner must've taken them all out when the pandemic started.

You continue walking until you reach the first room with it's door closed. You kick it open, gun ready to aim and shoot.

You're met with an empty room as it looks, entering inside, you study the large master bedroom, the bed was dust filled, as is the table by it's side.

You pull open the closet inside, met with more emptiness, you quickly move to look behind, Cursing loudly at the sudden view of a rotten dead infected, attached to the wall. Your face pulls in disgust and you immediately walk out, suddenly feeling more aware and on guard as you search the other rooms.

Joel's voice fills loudly as it echoes throughout the whole house. "You wouldn't believe this, these stupid rich people be leaving behind the wrong things."

You hummed softly, hopping down the two way big staircase, feeling like you're in one of those movies.

"Oh yeah, I know, they even left behind some some of these sick ass Celine Dion CDs." You laughed out making him snort.

"Well, that'll go well in the car ride, now that we have the oil for car tank." He had a small smile as he lifts up the two large bottles of car oil and placed them at the broken dinner table.

Your eyes wide at the sight before you looked up to him and grinned. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go." You ask hastily.

He shook his head to your suprised. "You and I both need rest. We'll stay the night here, and drive back tomorrow, Were getting closer to Jackson anyways, so no fuss."

"Seriously?" "Seriously." He moved to go upstairs but you called out immediately. "Dead infected occupy the rooms! They're rotting on the walls, but still not a nice view to sleep to I guess."

He keeps walking up and you watch him enter each room.

Reaching the last one, he exits holding up two large comforters and a long blanket. You nod your head subtly understanding his actions.

"Dust them out a bit, can't risk you dying of asthma or something." He teased as he passes you a comforter.

"That was one time, the room was basically a storage box." You mumbled, annoyed.

You open the comforter wide before waving it up and down to removed the dust, coughing loudly. "There ya go."

You lay your comforter down next to his and sits down on it, letting your body enjoy the rest while it could.

Joel instead, walks towards the fireplace ahead of you. "Wonder if this still works." He voices out.

You watch him from where you're sitting and enjoy the view. "Probably not."

He kneels down in front of it and checks the wire for the electronic starter of the fireplace.

After a few minutes of clicking and pulling wires, the fire lights up. You cheer loudly at the sight and he turns his head back to look at you, a small rare smile on his face.

°°°

That evening you slept easily on the comforter until night came. Your begrudgingly open you eyes to the sight of Joel bending down by the kitchen cabinets.

You sit up and run your tired eyes as you continue to eye his actions. "What are you doing?" You mumbled at him. He doesn't say anything at first, but then you hear a congratulatory 'aha'.

He walks up to you with a satisfied smile, holding two mugs in his hands. He gently sits back down next to you, passing the mug in your hands.

"What's this?" You asks. There was nothing inside, you frown at the mug and look back at him with an amused expression.

"It's a birthday present." He spoke smiling.

Your breath hitches and you lose yourself in your head for a second. You couldn't even remember the date today.

You stare at him and blinked a few times. "How do you know it's my birthday?"

He shrugs. "I keep up with time." He says simply. "How old are you now? 40?" He asks teasingly. "34, I'm almost as old as you."

He actually laughs and places his own mug next to him. "Now I'm really sure you're just an ass kisser."

You let out a short laugh before studying the mug. Your eyes widen excitedly when you realize the mug had cat ears.

"Oh it's a cat mug!" You exclaimed. You lifted it to show Joel, but he already knows of course.

He shoots up and reach out for his backpack. "Oh there's one more thing-" He pulls out an ukulele. "-Im more of a guitar person, but this will work."

You burst out a laugh and had to clamp your mouth shut when he sends a glare your way.

"Sorry I just- I don't understand why you'd have a whole ukulele in your backpack."

He snorts and shook his head. "Not mine, one of them rich fuckers got it in their room, if it fits in the bag, then it fits."

You laugh again at his antics and shook your head. "Okay then mister country star, go at it." You joke, nodding your head at the ukulele.

"You gotta lie down, I'm supposed to be serenading you." He jokes as he starts strumming.

You lay againts the worn out comforter and watch as his face changes into a focused frowning image as he plucks the strings into a simple beautiful melody.

When he starts singing, his deep voice catches you off guard, but you were pleased. You never knew someone so brutal was capable of such tender acts.

You wouldn't say being a world post apocalypse where a simple bite can turn you into a flesh eating monster didn't suck, but you were glad that out of all the people you've met in 20 years, He stayed.

When your eyes starts feeling heavy, and your mind turns dizzy, you're still awake enough to feel him cover you with the blanket before sliding under it too, pulling you into his chest before tucking your head under his chin.

"Happy birthday baby."

[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.

[lucygxybaird]

one true time - billinea

love was when i loved you, one true time i hold to. in my life, we'll always go on. near, far, wherever you are, i believe that the heart does go on. once more, you open the door, and you're here in my heart and my heart will go on and on. you're here, there's nothing i fear. (my heart will go on - celine dion) Billy walks into the room where Pat Garret is waiting for him, one last time. Dulcinea went just ahead of him (very sorry about this :))

tw: major character death, gunshots, suicide (indirectly??)

He can’t make sense of what he’s seeing, at first. 

The door is open a just a little, revealing a ribbon of the room in the dim light thrown by the flickering flames in the fireplace — the mantlepiece, barely distinguishable from the darkness; the hearth itself, its intricate carvings invisible now; the flickering fire, almost down to embers. A sliver of carpet. He stops understanding things around then. His eyes are taking it in, but the sight won’t turn into anything that he can wrap his mind around. 

It’s for the best, he thinks. And he knows it won’t last long. Already he can feel the horror opening up a chasm inside him, a black, roaring emptiness that will take over everything he is. His breath is coming fast and shallow, as if it’s trying to use itself up, so he can just collapse to the ground and cease to exist. Hurry up, he tells his laboring lungs. Hurry up, hurry up and quit, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up. 

Her hand. 

Her hand, falling in the gap between door and doorframe. Her hand, fingers curled in silent supplication. Her hand, with its stained palm, the color on her skin almost pitch black in the gloom. Almost.

He can see well enough to know what it is. And he can see well enough to know that she’s completely still. A statue carved from his own grief. He wants to fall to his knees and crawl to her, take her bloodied hand, press it to his lips. His cheek. Leaving marks on his skin like lashes under a whip. He deserves it, this branding. He deserves worse.

God, he brought her to this. 

Does going back in time erase everything? Would he remember, even if she forgot? If he could return to that night, the night they met, and stop himself from calling out to her — would he lose her eyes meeting his for the first time? Lose the smile creeping into her voice when she said he could see her again? Lose the way his heart pounded as he watched her walk away? 

Maybe he wouldn’t go back that far. (He has to keep thinking about this, because he can’t think about what he’s looking at right now; or he’ll start screaming and he’ll never stop.) Maybe he would let them ride out together, that day he promised nothing would happen to her. He could stop at their first kiss, couldn’t he? Let himself have that one thing. 

He’d pressed a kiss to her lower lip, as if he couldn’t bring himself to stop tasting her. She was smiling. 

He can hear people in the room beyond, hissing at each other like a pair of snakes. He thinks of the serpent in Eden, offering Eve the apple. Her teeth had broken into the thin skin of the fruit, and unleashed sin. He’s always thought it was pretty ridiculous that it’s a woman who brought destruction into the world. 

In his experience, nobody knows how to ruin something beautiful quite like a man. Look at his father, dragging his mother from their home in New York, only to die curled up like a useless animal. (He can’t remember the last time he thought about his father, let alone with such venom; but this, too, is better than thinking about her hand on the floor.) Look at him. His presence in her life has been nothing but damnation from the start.

It should be his damnation, not hers. Not hers. 

Not her.

Not her, not her, not her. Please, anyone but her. 

If they come out here, they’ll kill him. His only fear is that they won’t do it right now. They’ll make him wait — the journey back into town, being bundled into a jail cell, sitting through a sham of a trial. The noose will slip around his neck and he’ll just be praying for it to tighten already. Better for it to happen in an instant. A bullet to the heart. 

It’s more than what he deserves, of course. But hasn’t he already proven that he’s a selfish man? There had never been a doubt that she was far above him, beyond him, as beautiful — more so — as the moon and just as out of reach. But he’d wanted her, so he’d pursued her, anyway. 

And he can’t go back. He can’t fix it. 

He swears he hears her father’s voice in his ear, risen from the grave to lay blame at the feet of the person who deserves it the most. You killed her, del Toboso says. You killed her. You monster, you beast, you foolish boy. She had everything before you came into her life. She had her family. She had her future. She would be better off if she had never met you. 

She would, specifically, be alive if she had never met him.

(How long has he been standing here? He doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter. Time is for the living, and whether his death is moments away or days, it’s just a matter of perspective. His heart is still beating, but he knows he is dead in the ways that matter.)

Not only had he brought her into this life, he’d brought her here. 

He should have left her with Manuela and the baby — he’d wanted to — but she had insisted. This new hideout was one of her family houses, after all; who knew the hiding spots, the ways in and out, the roads to and from the house, better than she did? He could have figured all of that out himself. But she’d looked at him with those pleading dark eyes, and he hadn’t been strong enough to resist her. Not with her hands clutching at his shirt, begging with her gaze. With her words, falling from her lips onto his own as she reached up to hold his face. 

“I do not want to be so far away from you. I would be sick waiting for news, I couldn’t bear it. Please, Billy…take me with you.”

There’s a footstep from inside the room. Another. Another. Spaced out, like a predator about to pounce. He wonders if they can see him. (He doesn’t care, really, but it’s a thought. If they can see him, is it well enough to see his face? Or is he just a lean shadow, looking like the ghost he is?)

The door jostles open a little further as someone kneels down next to her. 

He can see her shoulder now. Her chin, the line of her jaw. A bit of her cheek. Had it just been last night that he kissed that cheek? They had fallen asleep in the big bed upstairs, the one that floated like a jewel of damask curtains and dark, gleaming mahogany bedposts. The bedroom itself had taken up nearly the whole third floor, a chamber that probably could have fit the whole Antrim house inside it.

“Holy shit,” he’d said. “There are wagons smaller than this bed.”

“Don’t worry, lindo. It works just the same as a small bed.”

And then she’d grinned at him, taking him by the hand and leading him toward it. “Let me show you.”

They made love like they always did, as if they had all the time in the world, passion caged in caresses that stretched moments into years, kisses planted anywhere and everywhere they could reach. He only moved faster, harder, when she told him to — whether with her back arched, legs tightening around his waist, or by her feverish voice in his ear. 

“Billy, please…”

He knew she was getting close when she kept saying his name over and over again, the rhythm disjointed by desperation, but sweeter than any melody in the world for all that. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her mouth at his ear. Crying out until her voice peaked, broke, ebbing away into soft sighs and trembling breaths. 

Breaths.

She’s not breathing. 

Not breathing, not moving. Of course, he’d known that, but to see more of her makes it harder for him to push that reality away. He feels like Atlas, bearing the weight of the world, except he can already feel it crushing him. 

From inside the room, he hears a man say: “Dulcinea?” 

It’s Pat Garrett. He doesn’t need to see him to know that. He recognizes his voice. 

He can smell gunpowder now. 

There is a thunderclap in his head, driving out all thought, all sense of himself. He wants to scream and kick the door open, howling like a demon clawing his way out of hell. He wants to shout at Pat for daring to say her name. 

Why didn’t he change her name when he had the chance? They’d always wanted to get married. Maybe he didn’t feel worthy, as an outlaw. Maybe a part of him had never doubted it would end this way, except he’d expected to be the one to go. A piece of paper signed by a judge doesn’t change the fact that he was hers, and she was his. 

But still. 

He would have liked to call her his wife, if just once. Even if nobody else heard but her.

Was leaving a grieving lover behind better than leaving a widow? For her, it would be, at least. She wouldn’t be saddled with the name of a criminal. Besides, Dulcinea Bonney just doesn’t sound as good as her maiden name.

(It doesn’t matter. He knows that. But if he thinks about why it doesn’t matter, he’ll—)

“Who’s there?”

The door opens all the way. Pat stands in the doorway, his body outlined in dancing gold. Billy takes a step toward him.

“Quien es?” he responds. “Quien es?”

He wants his last words to be in Spanish. Her language. Maybe she can hear him where she is, falling with the tongue she knew first on his lips. It’s like a last kiss. 

Billy lunges forward, like he’s going to attack Pat, but he doesn’t care about laying a hand on him. The time for fighting is over. No, he just wants to be in the same room. He wants to fall next to her. If he times it right—

“Quien es?” It sounds like he’s begging. Maybe he is. He just wants it to be over.

He doesn’t look down. If he looks at her, fully, really looks at her, his courage will fail him. There will be too much guilt for him to be brave.

He sees Pat reach for his hip, and even though he can barely see the pistol in the dark, he almost smiles as the barrel gleams in the dim light. It’s a promise of relief. Just a few minutes more. 

“Who are you?” Pat says. “Tell me your name and put your hands up, or I’ll—”

From the corner of his eye, Billy can see her sleeve. He lunges forward again. 

A bang. Smoke. A flash of light. 

He doesn’t see the bullet, but when it hits him in the chest, he’s grateful for it, anyway. Billy takes a small step backward, another, and lets himself fall. He doesn’t feel the impact when he lands on the floor. He turns his head. He timed it perfectly. There she is, right next to him.

His hand brushes hers. Her fingertips are icy, but he reaches for them, anyway. 

Can she feel his warmth in the next life? 

(Is there a next life?)

There’s pain, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’s like the sun baking his skin on a hot summer day — a byproduct of being alive. It will only last a little while longer, he’s sure. In the meantime, there’s her face. 

He won’t look at anything else. He doesn’t want to know where she was hit. 

(In the heart? Like him?)

Her face. 

It looks like she’s sleeping. Her eyes are closed, her lips slightly parted. 

(Did she try to say his name? To warn him? To say goodbye? Just to say it, once more?)

His fingers tighten on hers. 

(Don’t leave me. I’m coming.)

He closes his eyes, too. 

Maybe it’s a dream, what happens next. Maybe there really is a life after this one, and somehow, he’s managed to find himself on the right side of the pearly gates. The last of him supposes that it could be both. There’s really no saying if one cancels out the other, or if they’re one and the same. 

There are rolling hills, so green that it makes his throat ache with how beautiful it is. The grass waves in the gentlest breeze he has ever felt, soft and warm. He sees a house. He doesn’t walk toward it, but finds himself inside, as if he’s just pushed the door open. 

They smile at him, all of them. 

His mother. His father. Joe. Tunstall. Charlie. Tom. 

And then, he sees her. 

Dulcinea takes his hand. “It’s alright now,” she says. 

Billy rests his forehead against hers, clasping her hand. He doesn’t say anything in response, but he doesn’t need to. 

It’s alright now. 

[seokjinsonlyone]

btw i love how accurately you depict each member cuz 99% of bloggers here make bts seem like discord daddies 😭

but who do you think in bts would be the scariest in an argument with their partner?

to me, I feel like the maknae line would be scary if you made them angry enough like imagine jk swole tatted ass yelling at you and having you backed into a corner idk

listeeeennnn as sexy as they can be sometimes, me and the tannies just go back way too far to only see them in that occasional state of being like… i’ve seen jimin kick himself out of a chair and hobi play celine dion out his nostril on a recorder like u just gotta be fr from time to time 🫡 that being said

i don’t think jk would be the scariest like he may be big nd buff but he’s still a baby our kookoo baby star candy angel prince puppy would get more upset than anything in an argument like i can see him just getting really exasperated if he was tryna explain himself to you but you won’t hearing or believing him like he’ll be more ready to cry than anything like he’s just so accustomed to being our baby light bulb funky little pop star golden maknae that he’s just used to sitting there and taking it so i really believe that in an argument he wouldn’t be that aggressive however i do think that if you pushed him hard enough he would get loud wit you for a second just to shut you up before you make him reach his limit. scary meter: [5/10]

you know who i do think is really scary tho? hobi 😳. he may be all smiles and giggles and sunshine but when you piss him off the dark clouds roll in fr 😬 like say the wrong thing on the right day and you gon be in for something treacherous keep in mind this the same man that threw a banana at jungkook like the last time i heard of throwing a banana at someone was in mario kart now i can’t really see him raising his voice but he WILL back u into a corner like i have a clear vision of him red in the face gritting his teeth spewing straight up venom if y’all get into it real bad. scary meter: [9/10]

now when you think about a bangtan fight it seem like jimin always at the scene of the crime. u got the mandu incident, the time him nd jungkook got into it nd ended up hugging in the rain, on burn the stage when tae nd seokjinnie was having it out he was scolding them afterwards like he just always there for a tussle. so when i imagine fighting with jimin i can just see you popping off on him saying this and that and him talking over you saying this and that until you say sumn crazy and he gon tell you to watch your mouth, get fed up and tell you to leave him alone and don’t call him or something, and then try to storm out (and that’s when you grab his wrist before he makes it out the room and kiss him on da mouf and let him push you up against a wall and y’all make up 😏 way before y’all come to an agreement). scary meter: [6/10]

i think if you were to fight with seokjin i can’t say for surely that it would be super scary but by NO MEANS will it be a pretty sight to see. like we know he like to run his mouth so if y’all fighting he gon get to talking fast neck and ears gonna be red and whatever he saying to you it’s gonna be MEAN if you push him there he will raise his voice but i think that’s about it like your feelings gonna be super hurt at the end of it bc he know exactly which buttons to push but if you’re ever scared it’s gonna be bc you think he leaving bc one thing about seokjin is he not afraid to cut a person off. scary meter: [4/10]

yoongi wouldn’t hurt a fly nor would he give the impression that he would hurt a fly like yeah he's agust d and we’ve seen that the inner rage does exist but he the embodiment of the pen is mightier than the sword like if anything his anger runs cold like you can go ahead with the fussing and fighting and yelling crying carrying on but he not wit da dramatics you can talk to him or you can go somewhere he not doing all that so would he be scary in an argument? nah. scary meter: [3/10]

joonie is a big buff man real tall and muscly but that’s not what makes him scary bc as big and buff as he is he is equally kind and gentle but there's a definite streak of unrefined aggression that lives within him and if you ever tapped into that it'd be bad bc it's like he holds back so much that when the flood gates open you will drown like downturned eyebrows nose scrunched up red in the face volume at 100 he's gesturing wildly got you backed in the corner ya know the WORKS but i do think it'd be a real quick burst tho like he's gonna absolutely lose it for all of a minute before regaining control of his emotions and he'd apologize for talking to you like that immediately. scary meter: [7/10]

hands down 100% tae is the scariest member to fight with like i'm specifically thinking of that time that rumor was being spread and he went on weverse saying he wish he could like stab the reporters with needles or something like that like if at all possible DO NOT piss him off because he is just so firm in all his beliefs and convictions like he is not backing down and i think he is also the most dramatic so if you take him there he's going to make the most of it like it'd be a steady build up him just continuously getting more and more upset until he's stomping around yelling at you like there's slamming doors and harsh words i wouldn't put it above him to punch a hole in the wall depending on the severity of the situation just like he is naawwwttt the one. scary meter: [10/10]

a/n: AGAIN SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO RESPOND TO THIS forgive me 🥺🤲 ALSO LISTEN can not say for surely how firm MY beliefs in this take are bc like i just am not intimidated by people like they just aren't scary to me unless they carrying a gun that's the only time i be scared 💀

[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.

[8iunie]

Måneskin: “When you get famous, people just want to know who you’re f**king”

The global Italian rockers open up about discovering themselves, mastering fame and finding their genderless sound. (posted on 20.01.2023)

It’s late morning and Italian rock band Måneskin are comfortably seated in a swanky West London hotel room, already kitted out in signature Gucci, jet-black eyeliner, and clean-cut 70s-style statement suits. The quartet, an electric gleam of cool against a silver-spotted setting, are nonchalantly scrunched into a deep turquoise couch. Their suave image serves as a reminder of how far they’ve come since their early Italian X Factor days.

Over a year has passed since the group’s whirlwind takeover as glam rock stars conquering the Eurovision Song Contest 2021 and they’re showing no signs of slowing down. In fact, the band’s authentic image and relentless sound has earned them over six million followers on their band’s Instagram account — a figure greater than the population living in their fashion capital hometown, Rome, where the rock and rollers were born. Måneskin’s rise as next generation figureheads isn’t too unconventional, after all, plenty of breakthrough acts – ABBA, Celine Dion, One Direction – have cut their teeth on televised competitions. And as game-changing winners, the rock band are eager to start writing their own legacy.

Måneskin’s commitment to being more than a hazy Eurovision memory is not to be unexpected. The band have committedly popped where you would least expect them – the 2021 BRIT Awards, Gucci’s luxury Aria campaign, or Disney’s live-action adaptation of Cruella – reminding us that they’re not going anywhere. And, just yesterday, the Italian artists spontaneously flew to London for a glitzy one-off showcase to debut their emo ballad, The Loneliest, co-written by British producer MNEK. While they’ve marginally recovered, the band are still buzzing from last night’s sweaty reception at Camden’s The Underworld in front of 500 die-hard fans. (“Oh my god, it was like a sauna in there,” bassist Victoria De Angelis chimes in, her voice hoarse from the manic show). It doesn’t matter if they’re pulling off last-minute sold-out performances or rubbing elbows with Guns’N’Roses, the Eurovision victors are doing it in style: flamboyantly dressed and with a compelling sense of gratitude.

Now, whether they’re rocking fashion red carpets or main stages, Måneskin are ready to make their presence felt. “We’ve gained a lot of successful things in the last year and we’re really happy about all the paths we’re going through,” drummer Ethan Torchio says, gesturing to the wider band. “We never had a specific ambition to gain or to achieve anything. It’s all about how we approach it day by day.”

While the band may not have pinned their hopes on a specific accolade, Måneskin’s shared teenage experiences primed them for their rapid accession as one of Europe’s hottest rock exports. Forming at high school as a unified three-piece, Ethan Torchio joined the gang after responding to an online open call out for a drummer. This fateful pairing, alongside the band’s long-standing friendship has become the crux of Måneskin’s outlook. “We all have a very clear vision — we are very bitchy,” Victoria says confidently, smiling. “We have very specific ideas. Being only four [of us] and not having overproduction, we think that our individual sound really makes the difference”. Ethan, who’s taken to perching on the couch armrest, echoes his bandmate: “We’re perfectionists.”

As Måneskin’s latest album, RUSH!, dawns, the artists have been busy splitting their legacy between Italy and the rest of the world – from showcasing support for Ukraine at Coachella in California to bringing their rock and roll swagger to The Green Fashion Awards alongside style icons Karolina Kurkova and Elisa Sednaoui. “These two ways of expression (rock and roll) are ways in which we have always liked to measure ourselves,” youngest member Thomas Raggi says in accented English. “We like to alternate them because they represent the different musical souls of which the band is composed.”

Måneskin’s rock and roll philosophy is more than a reliable shoehorned statement. Much like their striking clothing, it fits like a well-worn mantra. (“In a younger age, it really helped us define our personality and stand out in some way,” Victoria says.) Growing up in a “very conservative country”, the artists found the music scene as an opportunity to experiment with their image as teenagers. Labelled as “weird” or receiving “a lot of judgements” wasn’t going to hold Måneskin back. Instead, the alternative act learned to lean on each other for support, she says, and strengthened their bond. “It really helped to have a purpose and have this project together. It made us feel reassured that we’re doing something cool and we were allowed to be ourselves.”

As the band found themselves migrating from headline to headline, they became accustomed to facing off gossip together. Ask them about the cocaine-meets- Eurovision moment and they all laugh, sharing familiar smiles with each other. “We were already so successful in Italy so we got kind of used to hearing speculation about us,” Ethan shrugs. “The huge Eurovision blowout was a good moment of our lives because we were all at a point of growing and personality building.”

But the speculation didn’t just stop there. The questions of drugs subsided and talk about sexuality quickly rose to the fore. At the time, a quick internet search of Måneskin’s name would lead to autofills poking questions at everything to boyfriends, girlfriends, and identity labels. “We’re not very touched by these kinds of comments. We all are very sure of what we are and how we want to show it,” Ethan responds. Although the band were quickly dismissive of the online talk, a bigger lesson loomed, frontman Damiano David reveals. “In Italy, we did not discover that there’s more than one sexuality until we got to use social media. Just like everybody else, I was [use terms] ‘straight’ or ‘gay’,” he candidly shares. Since then, the vocalist admits he’s taking on “more knowledge” to better himself as an ally — “I’m fully straight but this doesn’t stop me from being an ally. I’m on the side that has to learn new things.”

The band’s public discussion of identity has been one they’ve decidedly kept close to their chest, until now. “We understand people can get very affected by [speculation] because they’re making themselves sure of what they are and how to express [themselves] to their parents or to their friends,” Ethan empathises. As a member who has faced the brunt of opinion, the drummer pauses, choosing his words carefully: “[Trying] to guess people’s sexualities is one of the worst things to do — it’s very bad.”

A time that was particularly testing for the band was when Måneskin’s provocative Want To Be Your Slave music video hit the internet. A visual centred on sexual liberation and self-expression, the band quickly faced questions on their aesthetic and affiliation to queerness. “People are curious about it because it’s been quite a taboo topic for many years, it’s something now that other people are so interested in, not only with celebrities, but just generally with everyone,” Victoria says. She recalls times in high school where similar-aged teenagers would guess whether an effeminate boy is gay or not. “Like, who the fuck cares?!” she huffs. “People are really interested in the private lives of the artists. They look it up because it makes them feel like they know you better or it’s just to gossip or break a scandal.”

A brief pause falls over the band and Damiano shakes his head, prepping an answer: “I think it’s easier. It’s just not that complicated. When you get famous, people just want to know who you’re fucking. It’s just sick curiosity.” The inner-band debate strikes up again as Ethan proposes the media curiosity is fuelled by a misdirected want for knowledge and understanding.

While this is one the few times the band disagree, they respectfully onboard one another’s opinions as they take stock of the bigger conversation. The root of animated discussion breaks open as the members begin to turn the question inward. “I don’t really know how to identify. In the past years, I’ve been identifying as bi, but, lately, I’m having no interest in boys. I’m discovering [my identity is] developing,” Victoria says, her striped brown tie falling forwards. “I like some girls and then it changes to ‘okay, I almost don’t like any boys at all’. It is something constantly… It’s lesbian but also Harry Styles.” Damiano cracks up with laughter and Ethan quips that the former One Direction star is christened “the chosen one”. Circling back to her line of thought, the bassist proves she’s hardcore with her closing line — “It’s just who you are and you can really express yourself and I think this is like what matters the most and what we think is real rock and roll and freedom.”

Måneskin are no strangers to taking a stand. If you ask us, it looks like they love causing a bit of a stir. Mid-last year, the band, once again, caught headlines after Damiano and Thomas shared an unplanned kiss on stage at the Polsat SuperHit Festival. The band vividly recalls fans sharing the impact their music had on them. “When you get there and see how you can help thousands of people, it really makes you understand the difference you can have in that moment,” Victoria reflects. The group’s commitment to ensuring freedom of expression is larger than a few lyrics in a song – it feeds into their interviews and on-stage actions too.

“Being part of this generation it’s hard. It’s useful to take some strong positions on topics, because we need some strong actions. We’re just trying to do our part,” Thomas elaborates, explaining Måneskin’s move to be controversial every now and then. “We also try to improve ourselves every day. But at least you can try to find and to look for the right thing to do.” Lead singer Damiano backs up the decision to use their platform to back political causes. “If you have the courage to speak up about things, I think it’s very, very helpful,” he says earnestly. “We have to be able to understand when it’s better for us to take a step back and let those really affected people talk about it, because we are just allies and we’re not getting discriminated against, but we can try to be empathetic and use our voice and our power to help everybody.”

The four-piece have chalked up a reputation for being unpredictable and stylishly outrageous, but this consensus doesn’t sway the young band. If anything, their years in the on-screen media pipeline has taught them how to utilise the spotlight. It doesn’t matter whether they’re discussing music, tours or politics, the band inevitably comes back to the value of being authentic for their fans (“We just feel very close to them,” Victoria says protectively.) At the centre of their overlapping comments on friendship and frenzied life changes, Måneskin are humbly aware of how their fanbase supports them. The bassist continues, saying it’s important to create a place where everyone can be who they want. Pausing, she periodically slips into Italian, asking her bandmates to translate a term.

“It’s obvious everyone wants to be free for who they really are. In my experience, at first, I was so concerned and worried ‘who am I if I do this’ or that I’m something else or that I’m changing, but it’s [best] to not be worried about these things,” she says passionately. “We want to create with our fans and to put everyone in this healthy environment. And doing this really gives strength to young people or people who are in more oppressed situations to have courage to see that it’s okay.”

There’s no doubt Måneskin have distilled their lived lessons into this new record to create a rock and roll oasis. From beat-thumping inductions to media gossip to tongue-in-cheek comments on becoming the “kool kids”, the monstrous, hardcore noise of RUSH! has it all. “For me, it is a very personal record. It tells the story of how I came to discover myself and what I want to be as a person and as an artist,” Damiano explains. “All this frenzy led me to look inside myself, somehow I felt free to express a part of me that I had kept more hidden.”

The album is a chaotic amalgamation of crushing guitar riffs, full-throttle lyrics, and sonorous vocals sways through lines of Italian and English. Måneskin’s charge forward with spluttering drums, cranked up instrumentation, with songs pouring their original larger-than-life stamp into their broad rock productions. At their height, the band’s best tracks (La Fine, Gossip ft Tom Morello, Kool Kids) ignite like a blazing stage sign giving direction to Måneskin’s inevitable rise as one of today’s spirited rock acts.

An evolution from their gutsy sophomore studio release, Teatro d’ira: Vol. I, new album RUSH! captures the spark of each member. “Each of us had the freedom to follow our own personal direction. This time we didn’t look for the synthesis, the lowest common denominator between our different personalities, but we kind of added them up, exalted them all to the same level, and despite everything I think we still retained our identity,” Victoria shares.

With that, the band did not shy away from splurging on animated guitar hooks or fret over going too heavy with the familiar political zing of their rock tunes. Victoria adds: “We live in the concern of a progressive loss of people’s rights and we are afraid that this common thought is growing. In the track La Fine we refer precisely to this thought. Our music wants to be free and genderless. The goal is that people can identify with our message without having any definition of gender or category.”

After months of mania and unrelenting bouts of success, Måneskin are eagerly positioned to take on what’s next. And with a sold out arena in London already on the cards, it won’t be long before they’re greeting roaring fans once more. But, for now, as they savour the release of RUSH!, the band have found renewed strength in their amped up sound. “We have found our synthesis in diversity. This record is a point of pride and artistic growth for us,” Damiano reaffirms. And in a lesson learned by all, Victoria shares a final note of uplifting advice: “Never be afraid to express yourself. Always be free!”

WORDS BY ZOYA RAZA-SHEIKH

PHOTOGRAPHY BY FABIO GERMINARIO

[sunmoonstarsflowers]

Astrology Observations 4 - fame and famous

💜 Some underrated fame placements:

💜Someone had said Scorpio Moon is a fame placement and I agree.

💜 I saw charts of around a lot of celebrities on astro-charts.com and a few degrees that were common were, of course, leo degrees but also Capricorn degrees and Aquarius degrees. And another degree common was 25. Basically, I believe what makes someone famous is based on the star quality they have(Leo), the amount of hardwork and perseverance they put (Capricorn), the way they'd relate to people while being unique in themselves (Aquarius or 11th house influence) and your drive (Mars).

💜 Another very important point is, that you don't need to have these degrees or placements to succeed or achieve fame, these qualities come a little more easily to people with these placements but they need to work hard to activate it too. So can you.

💜 Pisces degrees also give this ethereal and heavenly vibes to people which reinforces the idea of illusion a celebrity has on a fan.

💜 Taylor Swift's chart has multiple planet opposition. One of the planets is her Moon, Jupitar and Chiron in Cancer and its opposite Saturn, Mercury, Uranus and Neptune in Capricorn. This aspect gives a person major space, time and situations to evolve and grow as a person and I think recent songs by Taylor, kind of, convey how she she grew as a person. And if you hear songs like marjorie or long story short or bejeweled or so many songs in Midnights, you'll see how much she learnt and I personally see Saturn vibes in the way she deals with her emotions and these situations she talks about in the song.

💜 Oprah Winfrey has three T-squares and one Grand Trine. I think these aspects together create a very beautiful energy when comes to the scope of success and growth a person can achieve. Only taking into consideration these aspects' energy as a whole, I'd say that anyone with one of more T-square and one Grand Trine would have to work really really hard and would have to go through a lot to grow but they'd also have the energy which would give them hope to go through this time, to keep moving and keep believing in themselves.

💜 Fire dominant people (especially women) and singers have very powerful voices. Rihanna, Beyonce, Celine Dion, Sunidhi Chauhan (and me) are a few examples I saw.

💜 Sun is said to have affinity with all planets.*

💜 Mars has affinity with Venus in physical sense.*

💜 Venus has affinity with Jupitar in philanthropic sense and with Mercury in artistic sense. *

💜 When is planet said to be afflicted? When it is unfavourably aspected. Which may mean any inharmonious aspect to a planet or conjuction, parallel, square or opposition to a malefic planet. *

* learnt through The Encyclopedia of Astrology-Nicolas deVore.

[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.

[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