#anywhere with you

[gulliblelemon]

Anywhere With You - Chapter 1

“Simon Eriksson?” Whipping round, Simon almost collided with a tall, handsome man in a burgundy jacket. He had slicked back hair, arresting brown eyes and an expensive watch peeking out from under his sleeve. “Yes,” Simon said, quickly trying to correct his footing. “Yes, that’s me. Hi.” The man extended his hand. “Wilhelm,” he said, offering Simon a small but sincere smile as they shook hands.

Read Chapter 1 on AO3 (M, 11k/57k).

[hairychestloversblog]

I’d go on a long cruise with this captain 🚢 👨‍✈️ 🥵

[pancakes4two]

ANYWHERE WITH YOU - ONE

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | TALK TO ME

⭐️ NEXT CHAPTER ⭐️

word count: ~3.2k

warnings: language

preview: “I thought you were fucking with me on the phone,” you sigh exasperatedly, slapping Harry’s hands away as he tries to reach for your coffee and take a sip. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually show up here.”

“Why would I be joking?” Harry asks, reaching for your toast instead when it becomes clear that you’ll never sacrifice your morning caffeine. “Haven’t been able to write anything useful for the past month. I need a change of scenery, and I knew you wouldn’t say no if I asked to stay with you. You love me too much.”

✽ ✽ ✽

“You can’t be serious,” you say as the front door to your apartment swings open, a gust of humid air filling the area surrounding you. It’s six in the morning and you’re half-asleep. You’re standing face-to-face with your childhood best friend, who last time you checked, was supposed to be halfway across the world, staying in a ridiculously expensive AirBNB and recording music for his latest album.

“A warm welcome, as always, Y/N,” Harry replies simply, slipping off his shoes and waltzing into your living room like he owns the place. It’s brave of him, really, considering how little time he’s spent in your apartment in the last four years that you’ve lived here. You’re about to throw one of his sneakers at his head when he makes his way to the kitchen, opening your refrigerator, and then closing it immediately when he realizes how unimpressive the contents are. Rent in New York City is expensive—he can hardly expect you to have anything other than frozen Trader Joe’s meals and the occasional fruit or vegetable stocked in your fridge at all times.

“I thought you were fucking with me on the phone,” you sigh exasperatedly, slapping Harry’s hands away as he tries to reach for your coffee and take a sip. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually show up here.”

“Why would I be joking?” Harry asks, reaching for your toast instead when it becomes clear that you’ll never sacrifice your morning caffeine. “Haven’t been able to write anything useful for the past month. I need a change of scenery, and I knew you wouldn’t say no if I asked to stay with you. You love me too much.”

You throw your hands up in disbelief. “You make, like, a million dollars a minute. Can’t you just rent your own place in the city? Why do you have to subject me to you as a roommate? Haven’t I suffered enough in our twenty years of friendship? I’m calling your mum.”

Harry does nothing but grin at that, his dimple deepening as he watches you pull your phone out from your pocket and angrily pull up his mum’s contact card.

“Hi, Anne,” you say sweetly when she picks up on the third ring, “Listen, so sorry to bother you, but your son has just shown up on my front doorstep and is asking me to take him in for the foreseeable future. And we both know how awful of a person he is to live with, so please, if you could talk to him…”

Anne laughs loudly over the speakerphone, and it makes you think that you should really make an effort to call her more. She’s practically a second mum to you, after all. 

“Morning, darling,” Anne chirps while Harry takes another bite out of your toast, loudly crunching on his mouthful. “You know in any other case I’d knock some sense into H, but this could be really good for both of you. He’s been struggling with his writing recently, and your mum’s just been telling me how she wishes you had more company in the city. Living alone can get lonely, dear, and the two of you have always had each others’ backs—it’ll be just like old times!”

Harry does a silent victory dance and mouths ha-ha to you as you pinch the bridge of your nose, leaning your elbows on the kitchen counter.

“Anne, I’m begging you. For my sake. I can’t deal with him singing in the shower and taking over my kitchen for God-knows-how-long. He’s already stolen my breakfast and he hasn’t even been here for thirty minutes.”

“H, you’ll behave, won’t you.”

“Promise I’ll be on my worst behavior,” Harry jokes, drawing a cross over his chest. “Wait, no, sorry. I meant my best behavior.”

“I hate you so much,” you concede, but if you’re really being honest with yourself, you know you were always going to end up agreeing anyway. You’d never admit this out loud, but you’ll always have a soft spot for Harry. Growing up together does that to a person.

“Take care of yourselves!” Anne says over the line, “you’ll call me if H gives you any trouble, won’t you?”

“I’ll have your number dialed before he even gets a chance to act up,” you sing-song, while Harry resorts to kicking your leg. “Have a nice evening, Anne. Promise I’ll call more.”

You hang up and Harry is staring up at you with a pout. 

“Why do you love my mother more than me?”

You place a palm on his forehead and push his head back, scoffing. “Why do you make my life so hard?”

He smiles sweetly at that, “Because I can.”

“Well, I have to go to work. Try not to set the place on fire while I’m gone,” you sigh, shoving the last bite of toast that Harry had been so kind as to save for you into your mouth. You had recently been hired as a lecturer at NYU, which meant you were stuck teaching 8 and 9 AM lectures for the foreseeable future. Hence your early start this morning, and why you actually came to answer the door when Harry started knocking at what otherwise would be considered an ungodly hour.

“Wait,” Harry says sheepishly, grabbing your wrist as you turn away and begin to walk back towards your room. “I was 99.999% sure you’d say yes, right. But, I also didn’t want to seem like an idiot on the minuscule chance that you’d say no, so I didn’t bring my stuff with me. I’ll text Jeff to have a suitcase brought here overnight, but…”

“Oh my God,” you groan, understanding what he’s implying. You lead him into your bedroom and angrily open your drawers, looking for a t-shirt you would be okay parting with. You find one at the bottom of the top drawer, a souvenir shirt from a family holiday to Paris from years ago. Harry would’ve been on that trip too, except he’d been touring in Southeast Asia or somewhere, you couldn’t remember. You bundle up the shirt in your hands and shove it into Harry’s chest with a huff. “Here. You can keep it.”

Harry hugs the shirt to his chest and grins. “Smells like your perfume.”

“Piss off.” You say, but you leave the apartment with your lips curled around a smile, feeling more awake than you have since the day you moved to this city.

✽ ✽ ✽

You finally make it to your office at noon, carrying a large box filled with exam papers and answer sheets. You only briefly get a moment to yourself before two figures appear at your front door, smiling. It’s Claire and Julian, two other lecturers from your department who were hired around the same time as you. You’d become quick friends, and now daily lunches had become somewhat of a routine for the three of you. It was a good way to let off steam after spending so much time in proximity with college students, and you looked forward to your daily debriefs about the travesty that is adult life.

“We come bearing lunch,” Claire exclaims, handing you a salad bowl from the fast-casual place down the street. 

“Thank God,” you say, holding onto the lid and shaking to mix the contents. Julian pulls up a chair for Claire, and the two of them take a seat across from you at your desk. “My stomach was about to start eating itself, I’m that hungry.”

“You okay?” Julian says, eyes scanning quickly over your features. He was weirdly perceptive. You were still trying to work out whether you hated or loved that about him.

“I’m fine,” you say with a brush of your hand, “just… a roommate thing at home is kind of stressing me out. Plus the fact that I’m down a TA and have to grade double the amount of exams I normally do.”

“I thought you lived alone?” Claire asks, tilting her head curiously.

“I did, but my mum thought I needed some company here. She thinks I haven’t adjusted well enough to the city, so she’s conspired with a friend’s mum to have us live together.”

“So it’s someone you know already? At least that’s better than rooming with a complete stranger. I still remember my randomly-assigned roommate from freshman year of college, living with her was like pure torture,” Claire sighs.

“Yeah, something like that,” you laugh, because how do you even begin to explain the complicated history that is your friendship with Harry?

“Sounds like you need to come to happy hour with us after work,” Julian states plainly.

“I wish,” you reply, “but I promised my students I’d get these exam scores back to them by the end of the week. Have a long night of grading ahead of me. Plus, I’ve got to figure out how I’m going to share the flat with someone else.”

“Well, text us if you need anything,” Julian says, grabbing your hand from across the table and squeezing. “If that roommate of yours turns out to be a menace, we’ll come put them in their place.”

“Grateful for that,” you say, taking another bite of your food. The rest of your lunch hour together passes by like it would on any other day. Julian gripes about how unengaged his students have been since returning from summer break, Claire complains about her hopeless crush on a professor from the engineering department, and you offer your harsh yet loving advice to the two of them. Eventually you shoo them both away so you can get a head start on grading, and the remainder of the afternoon is uneventful. You take the C train back to your apartment, and stop by a grocery store on the way to pick up some pasta and vegetables. Harry doesn’t eat meat, so the three bowls of microwaveable orange chicken currently stocked in your freezer wouldn’t do him any good.

When you finally get back home, Harry’s sitting on the couch, freshly showered and in your t-shirt, strumming a guitar. You follow a drop of water as it drips down from his hair and falls onto his lashes, his eyes fluttering shut at the sudden wetness.

“Back already?” Harry smiles. He rubs at his eyes and gets up to help you with the grocery bags. He places them down in front of the kitchen and starts pulling the items out, sorting them on the countertop.

“It’s been ten hours,” you reply, washing your hands at the sink. You grab a pot and fill it with water, placing it onto the stovetop.

“Ten hours is too short of a time to be without you,” Harry pokes, “Was hoping you would never come back and I’d get this gorgeous flat all to myself.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” you retort, pulling out a cutting board and prepping your vegetables. You dice an onion and finely chop some garlic, while Harry sits at a barstool in front of you, watching you make dinner. The water starts to boil, and you pour the pasta into it, eyeballing what you think looks like two full servings.

“What’re you making?”

“Veggie bolognese,” you say, splashing some olive oil into a pan. You glance at Harry across the granite counter. He’s looking at you weirdly, an almost fond look in his eyes as he examines how you cook the ingredients. His stare makes you feel something you’d rather not unpack right now, so you opt to fill the silence awkwardly. “So, get any useful writing done today?”

“Not sure,” Harry sighs as you turn away from him. You grab a handful of mushrooms and toss them into the pan. “Gonna try and get into the studio tomorrow after Tyler and Mitch’ve flown in. See what I can do with it.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you say, adding in tomatoes and watching the vegetables boil into a sauce. “You always tend to overthink your writing. Sometimes what you get down the first time is perfectly fine. No point in trying to whittle it into something more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Hmm,” Harry nods thoughtfully, getting up from his seat and helping you drain the cooked pasta. He adds the noodles into the pan that’s cooking down the sauce, and starts washing the dishes you left behind in your dinner prep. “Good advice. How was your day?”

“Busy,” you sigh, combining the pasta and the sauce. You let the combined dish sit on the stove for a few minutes, bubbling under the heat, before you portion it out into two plates. “Students had an exam. Probably going to stay up grading their papers.”

“I can help with that, if you want,” Harry says, carrying the two plates over to your tiny dining table, that just barely fits one person, let alone two. On his way over, he passes your fridge and notices a photobooth strip taped to the front, which makes him laugh. It’s from Gemma’s graduation party—the three of you had crammed into the tiny space and taken so many pictures together, hogging the booth for so long that the rest of the guests had complained.

“I doubt you know enough about 19th century English literature to be able to grade 50-some essays about it,” you laugh.

“Fair enough, but I can at least keep you company while you grade. You can listen to me angrily scratch out lyrics and rip out notebook pages in frustration. I’ll listen to you whine about Yeats. Not bad for a Wednesday evening.”

The two of you eat in a comfortable silence for a while after that. The sun starts to set outside, leaving streaks of golden light on your dining table and your walls. You can see small bits of dust catch the light, swirling around Harry’s curls and suspending in the air.

Harry says your name suddenly, leading you to pause around a mouthful of pasta. “Listen, I know we joke around a lot, but if me being here is going to be a burden then please tell me and I can find somewhere else to stay in the city.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you say simply. And that’s that. You’re left to stare at your best friend, who’s wearing your shirt and sitting in your apartment, somehow filling the space like he’s belonged there all along. “You’re always welcome here. And you’re in charge of dinner tomorrow, so do your best not to poison me.”

Harry gets up and envelopes you in his arms from where you’re sitting in your chair, your cheeks flush against his chest. He smells like your soap and the cologne he’s worn since he was fifteen. You silently sigh and curse yourself in your head for getting into this situation. As if this won’t get complicated.

✽ ✽ ✽

Like with most childhood friendships, yours’ and Harry’s begins due to pure luck and your meddling mothers. The summer before year four, your mum tells you that a new family is moving in next door. You acted like a right brat about it at first, stomping your feet and refusing to leave the house to greet them. You hated that your mum thought it was so lovely that they had a son your age, how wonderful it’ll be for you to have a new friend going into the new school year. You didn’t want her to dictate your friends for you. Plus, there was no way the neighbor’s son could be half as cool as you were. It wasn’t until a week later, when you were playing in your front yard, that you finally met him for the first time.

You’re sitting on a wooden swing that your dad had fastened to a tree, reading a book, when he steps in front of you. He’s wearing a striped shirt and he’s got an ice lolly in his hand. His eyes are big and green, and when he smiles at you you notice that he’s missing a front tooth. 

“Hi, ‘m Harry,” his words unfurl slowly, “Mum said you’re the next door neighbor.” 

You look at him questioningly, still unsure of what you think of him. But then he points at the book in your lap, and flashes you another toothy grin. “You’re reading Harry Potter too? Sick. My sister got me the books for my birthday. I’m reading number four right now. What house are you? I think I’m a Gryffindor, ‘cause it’s the coolest, but Gem always says I ought to be a Slytherin, ‘cause I’m so evil and annoying…”

“I’m a Ravenclaw, ‘cause they’re the smartest,” you shrug, scooting over on the swing so Harry has room to sit, too. 

“I’m reading number four too, but I’m almost done. It only took me a week to finish,” you boast, kicking your legs forward.

“Woah, you must be, like, a really fast reader then,” Harry looks at you in awe, helping you propel the swing forward. “Hey, are you going to Holmes Chapel Comp for school? I’m starting there in the fall.”

“Mhm,” you say, watching the sun set over the hill. “Going into year four.”

“Cool, I’m gonna be year four, too,” Harry replies, legs dangling in the air. The two of you talk until Harry’s mum calls him in for dinner, and you find that you actually have a lot in common—you both like the color blue, Lord of the Rings, and support Man United. You learn that Harry lives with his mum and his sister, who’s called Gemma and is four whole years older than him. You head back home with an invitation to hang out with Harry again the next day, and when your mum asks you what you thought of the neighbors later that night as she sets the table, you have no choice but to concede and tell her she was right all along. Maybe you had found a new best friend in the boy from next door.

✽ ✽ ✽

a/n: a new story, as promised. gonna try and actually keep up with this one this time since i’m super excited about the concept. i’m a sucker for childhood friends so hopefully i’ll do the trope justice. shoot me a message if you want to be on the taglist! aiming for weekly updates, although they’ll probably be more frequent for now as i try and get this story going. i’m excited for this!!! hope you are too!!!

[kdramacaptures]

Anywhere with you

[etherealperrie]

Anywhere With You

Chapter 2: "The Bolters"

Coriolanus (Coryo) Snow x Reader Word count: 1.6k Contains: pre-hunger games Coryo | buzzcut Coryo | longtime friends to lovers | Coriolanus being soft for the one he loves | mentions of minor tbosas characters | tbosas spoilers

Catching Up? Chapter 1

--

There’s a chill in the air. Your body shivers in response, a reminder that you really are here, your fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the case you packed late last night. Wind dances across the town center, sweeping the leaves up into the air. You watch in awe as the oranges and yellows mix, their rustling the only sound at this hour. You’ll miss the changing of seasons here in the city, even though they don’t carry quite the same beauty and magic they did when you were a child – before the war. 

The sounds of footsteps catch you off guard, an instinct you weren’t aware you had, forces you back into the shadows behind a nearby building. It’s only Sejanus. You had no real reason to worry, he wouldn’t tell. In all honesty you thought he might try to leave with you and Coriolanus, but he refused. Even though he’d be the last person to try and stop you from leaving, you fight the desire to wave goodbye to him. It’s best you’re not seen. It would be easier to fade away in the memories of everyone here. Not only that, it would erase Sejanus of any culpability. To be honest you aren’t sure what the Capital will do once they realize you’re gone, but the last thing you want is for any of your friends to suffer consequences. So, instead of saying your goodbyes, you watch his figure walk away towards the Academy, noting the strength of his shoulders as he straightens up with every step. 

Your heart thuds against your chest. 

Where you’re headed is uncharted territory, really. A place you’d only heard stories about. A place supposedly far beyond District Twelve. A place with no one in sight – no civilization, just open fields and nameless land. Your heart pounds and you’re not sure whether it's out of excitement or fear: maybe both. After all, you’d been taught to fear a place like that, a lawless land. And yet, the thought of being able to live without the Capitol breathing down your neck, without the expectations and demands of your parents and professors excites you. Makes you wonder for all the things you might do, for the person you might become; to see the ways you and Coryo grow together. 

Slinking further back against the building, you glance up at the sky, the sun just beginning to rise from its slumber. When you woke this morning, Coriolanus was gone, his bed empty. Though the two of you discussed strategy mere hours before, waking up alone was frightening. What if Dean Highbottom heard word of your planned escape? What if a Peacekeeper found your Coryo out in the wee hours of the morning and took him to Dr. Gaul? Coriolanus is smart, but Dr. Gaul is calculated – who’s to say she wouldn’t catch on to your plans and punish him? 

Your worries are cut short as your body collides with something, or rather, someone. Before you have time to panic, a hand covers your mouth, another hand interlocking with yours, rubbing a soothing circle into your skin. 

Coryo. 

His eyes meet yours and you release a gasp, wilting into the strength of him holding you up. Your gaze rakes over him, noting something different about him. His hair. The soft wave of blonde curls are no longer, his hair buzzed down.

“Coryo,” you breathe, running your hands over his head. “What happened? Did they hurt you?” Your hands drop from his head down to his shoulders, feeling every inch of him. 

“I’m okay, love, I promise.” He chuckles, pressing his forehead to yours. “I figure it would be easier to maintain this way.” He shrugs. “That, and I thought it might help us slip out unnoticed.” 

He had a point, he did look different. Everyone here knew him to have those soft, gentle curls.

His hands tuck into the back pocket of his pants and emerge with a saffron yellow colored scarf. The golden thread shimmers in the early morning light. He glances at you and smiles softly, unfurling the satin fabric to drape it over your head. His fingers work to tie the ends just under your chin. 

“What’s this?” Your brow furrows and you reach up to feel the fabric now covering your hair, shielding you from the wind chill and the eyes of anyone around. 

“It was my mothers.” Coriolanus sighs, lacing his fingers through yours. “Anything to keep us out of sight.” He tugs you the slightest bit closer to him and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. It takes every fiber in your being to hold yourself back from him, to not mash your lips against his in such fervor that reflects the danger of the situation the two of you are in. Instead, you pull back as he squeezes your hand, a promise that there’s more on the other side of the two of you escaping the Capitol. 

The sharp whistle of a train in the distance brings you both back to reality, Coryo snapping up, his posture impossibly straight. 

“Come on, we don’t want to miss this one.” 

Close on Coryo’s heels, your hand in his, you make your way across the Capitol center towards the train station. As you approach, unfamiliar voices echo in the station yelling in virulent opposition to the stoic silence of the Peacekeepers as they yank small, frail bodies from the train. 

Your breath catches in your throat, your feet stopping. Coriolanus doesn’t notice at first, the way that you’ve stopped in your tracks, your hand no longer in his but lifted to your lips, the other shielding your eyes from the horror in front of you. 

The tributes. 

Peacekeepers. 

There’s no guarantee that Dr. Gaul or Dean Highbottom aren’t here as well. There’s no guarantee that you and Coryo make it out of the Capitol, let alone onto the train. You hadn’t realized everything Dr. Gaul mentioned yesterday would happen so quickly. That the tributes would be arriving this morning. Where would they go? How many would survive their welcome into the city? How could you run away while they were being carted to their untimely demise – something you’re supposed to have a hand in? 

From where you stand just behind a rusted column at the back of the station, your eye catches those of a small boy. Dark brown hair and pale skin, marred by dirt and what looks like blood, his left eye blackened. Had he been hit by a Peacekeeper? A fellow tribute? No more than twelve, he snivels, crossing his arms as he jumps down from the train onto the platform. A peacekeeper takes hold of his arm, but the boy doesn’t take his eyes off of you. It clicks then. It’s him. Your boy. The one you’ve been assigned. 

“Where did you go?” You jump at the feeling of Coryo’s breath on your cheek, his eyes wide as he takes in the sight of you stuck frozen to your place. The two of you are cramped behind this column, if a Peacekeeper so much as glanced in this direction, you’d be caught. 

Coriolanus takes hold of your hand and follows your gaze to the boy standing on the platform. More tributes stand around him now, all of them accompanied by a Peacekeeper awaiting instruction. Coriolanus sighs and brings his hand to your chin, turning your head back to him. 

“I know you want to help them.” 

You nod. 

“I should’ve warned you we might see them, but this is the only train that’s going back out to Twelve for quite some time, we have to take it.” 

“But, Cory–” 

“I know, I know.” Coriolanus places a finger to your lips. “Sejanus is going to do all he can to help them. He knows people back in Two. If he can, he’s going to help them escape – but we have to go. Now.” 

“What if we-” you begin again but Coriolanus cuts you off, placing a delicate hand over your mouth. You raise an eyebrow as the group of peacekeepers and tributes fall silent, their footsteps echoing across the platform as they begin their march toward the transport vehicle. 

“They’re going to bomb the arena,” Coriolanus whispers. “Sejanus, the rebels. They’re already in place, the minute anyone sets foot inside, the whole place will go down. They won’t even be able to hold the games. We don’t have to worry.” 

You’re not sure how to reckon with the information. When did this happen? Whose idea was it? It just might work, though, the Capitol is more than halfway out on the idea of the games overall, most people not having bothered to watch in years. A plan like this just might convince the masses that the Hunger Games are a moot point. That these children are victims to a war they never waged. 

Coryo eyes you, looking for any sign of movement. His eyes are slightly manic, bouncing between you and the train as if internally counting the seconds you have left to board. 

“Okay,” you sigh, taking one last look back at the tributes who had been shuffled into the car. A peacekeeper locks the back door and climbs inside the passenger seat just as the vehicle putters away, its engine just loud enough to mask the sounds of cries and screams. 

Your heart rips in half as Coriolanus tugs you from behind the pillar and out into the open for a singular moment before thrusting you up into the open train car, climbing inside after you. His hand rests on your hip, making sure you’re secure before turning to slide the door closed. 

It's dark. 

The train gives one last, mighty whistle as it lurches forward beginning its long trek back to District Twelve. 

“We’re almost free,” Coriolanus whispers, tucking his head to press a kiss to your neck. He rests there, on your shoulder for a long while, his fingers dancing across your thigh as the sound of the train tracks mimics the pounding of your heart.

--

A/N: I know this is many, many months late BUT I wanted to continue the story & tag those who requested it all that time ago...so...

TAG LIST: @clintsupremacy @jennifer0305 @zucchinimalfoy @marina468 @nishimura-writes @lovebyceleste @ennycutie @mjkale @tellsbabyy

[last-capy-hupping]

Well, Folks, it’s been about 19 months and 390,000 words, but I’ve finally finished it. Enjoy the last and 80th chapter of Anywhere With You!

And don’t worry. There’s a sequel incoming.

[mydailyhyperfixations]

Joel & Ellie ~ Anywhere With You

[bonbriver]

Maggie Rogers | 2.10.23 | Roadrunner | Boston, MA

[midnight-star-world]

#CountryMusic

Jake Owen - Loose Cannon

So today on the MSR (Midnight Star Review), I would like to talk about the latest album from Country Music Singer Jake Owen. This new album is titled "Loose cannon" and was originally released digitally on June 23rd, 2023, and a physical copy was available on Friday October 21st, 2023. But before we dive into the new 16 track album, let's talk about the career of Jake for a little bit before.

Jake has had big hits with songs like "Down to the Honkytonk", "Made for you", & "Anywhere with you. Jake also had songs like "Barefoot blue jean night", "Beachin'", & "American Country love song. Jake has scored 4 number ones on my weekly list MSR (Midnight Star Report). My MSR combines both CMT (Country Music Television), the Billboard Country Music Airplay Charts, & even myself. The list used to include GAC (Great American Country) until the list officially retired at the end of 2018. Now back to the new project up next.

The current single is "On the boat again", and other songs you should check out are "Go getter", & "Hearts and habits is a stand out track in my opinion. Also check out songs like "When it all shakes out", "Hopeless", & "It don't, he won't and you do". He pays tribute to the Andy Griffith show intro with "Nothing". More songs you should listen to are "Somewhere south with rum", "The ending", & the title track "Loose cannon". Jake had co-writting help from Willie Nelson, Walker Hayes, Devin Dawson, & Jordan Davis. Let's see the rest of the track list now.

Track list.

Hot truck beer.

Go getter.

Solo solo.

On the boat again.

Hearts and habits.

When it all shakes out.

Hope less.

It don't, He won't and you do.

Friends don't let friends.

Boy in the Chevrolet.

Shrank.

Nothing.

Somewhere south with Rum.

The ending.

Hey can I buy a beer.

Loose cannon.

And that's a wrap for the track list. And on the MSR (Midnight Star Review), I would give this new album a 4.5 out of 5 stars. I am not a fan of the digital albums, so with Jake deciding to make a CD that didn't have to get digitally. Another well-rounded album from Jake with a lot of songs that I had to highlight. Thanks for taking the time to read this review. See ya all next time.

[fullmetalscullyy]

anywhere with you - chapter 27

summary: Two kingdoms came together after a brief, but bloody, war and brokered peace, strengthening the bond between them. The price? One of the kings sending his son as a peace offering. King Berthold was baffled at the prospect and the reason behind Prince Roy’s arrival. It was completely unexpected. However, with another invasion from the north looming on the horizon just beyond their forest borders, he had no choice but to keep Roy by his side. At a loss of where to assign him in his grief, Prince Roy was appointed as Princess Riza Hawkeye’s guard.

-

A Royai fantasy and adventure AU

read on ao3

rated: t

words: 3156

tags: royai, fantasy au, roleswap, kinda, royalty au, adventure, grief, conflict, war, angst, angst with a happy ending, idiots in love, friends to lovers, mutual pining, pure self indulgence, character death, death, past abuse

snippet:

He had to go to her.

Chris had given up so much for him growing up. Had offered him sanctuary and assistance. Roy knew his duty to her and had the burning desire to assist her.

But that also meant leaving his new home.

His love.

His future wife.

Roy’s heart tore in two, stuck between the two kingdoms and what he felt he needed do.

“Go.”

He whirled in place to look at Riza, who’d followed him.

“You should go to her,” she prompted, coming to a stop next to him. Her smile contained nothing but encouragement. “Assist her in whatever way is needed.”

read the rest on ao3

[pettybourgeoiz]

Praise Be Unto Grandpa Enoch. 🙌🏻

[gulliblelemon]

Chapter 5

“I suppose we’ll have to make do,” Simon said, before slowly pressing himself forward - thighs, hips, and chests touching - and dropping a quick, dirty kiss to Wille’s lips, before tearing off, leaving Wille momentarily stunned. By the time Wille gathered his remaining wits and sped after him, Simon had already divested himself of his t-shirt and was standing on the edge of the pool, the slightly blue ripples reflecting off his skin.  Wille’s brain ground to a halt once more. Although his hands and mouth had been all over that torso this morning, they’d been so closely wrapped around each other that he hadn’t really had a chance to look. So he looked now. Simon’s body was all smooth planes and sharp edges, soft curves and enticing hollows. He wanted to touch every part of it. Caress his chest down to his hips. Lick his way down— Wille was snapped out of his daydream by a small laugh. “You’re drooling,” Simon said, a pleased smile on his lips.

Read chapter 5 on AO3. Or start from the beginning. (M, 48k/57k)

[sexylittleslutsls]

…. is always a fun adventure together .. every time ….

[etherealperrie]

just wanted to update y'all & say that I haven't abandoned "Anywhere With You", I'm working on pt. 2 but I was taking care of my grandma who had covid and now I have covid, so my body is forcing me to sleep over write. BUT! I hope to have part 2 done soon for y'all bc you all have been SO kind about part 1 and I cannot wait to share more with you <3

[last-capy-hupping]

Found your tumblr! I’ve been reading AWY these past weeks, and I think it’s brilliant. I love your characterisation of Finno, and Anarcalin. You really make your OCs seem real. Anyway, thank you.

Thank you so much! I loved writing Finno and his own inner struggles in this. I wanted to give him a chance to be messy and have an arc. Really thrilled to hear that you like my OCs, especially Anarcalin!