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grillthegridmydear · 1 month ago

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Oscar and number 7 🫶🏻 Thank u so much!

Spotify Wrapped - No. 7

Jackie and Wilson ~ Hozier

OP81 X Reader

Oscar spends his winter break on an extended holiday in Ireland after Lando and Logan decide they want good beer, good culture and a (hopefully) White Christmas.

Meeting her was the last thing he was expecting.

A/N: Kicking it off with Hozier is terribly on brand, set in Dublin cause it's my hometown.

The sheer volume of people trying to battle their way through Grafton Street could have filled a grandstand. This was the only thing that Oscar could think as he tried his best to follow Logan and Lando down the busy street, trying desperately to avoid bumping into passing strangers, their arms loaded with shopping bags as they dart between stores trying to get last minute gifts as the snow fell above them. It was December 17th and instead of spending Christmas at home with his family in Australia or even in his new home in Monaco that he has been living in for less than a year, Lando essentially made the decision for him.

Oscar was added to a groupchat with all of the remaining single drivers and Lando dropped the bomb that he was organising a trip for the winter break to let off steam and enjoy themselves before the 2025 season kicked off. Logan was going because he had recently signed to drive with a new team in a different series, so it would probably be the last time they would be able to see him for a while due to everyones busy schedules. Everyone else had plans with their families or another convenient excuse not to attend, but Oscar was still riding the high of their Constructors Championship victory over Ferrari, and with the promise of spending time with Logan he was very quickly sending a thumbs up to the plan and booking a plane ticket. A month in Dublin, Ireland so that they could be close enough to home that if Mclaren called them back to the MTC they could be there within a few hours. What could go wrong.

After apologising to the third person he bumped shoulders with in the last five minutes Oscar was beginning to regret agreeing to leave the apartment they had booked. It was cold and crowded and honestly he would have been happy with going to a quiet dinner with the boys before relaxing. Lando finally managed to guide them to the mouth of the street and across the road to stop somewhere out of the way of traffic. "Pub anyone?" Lando voiced their collective opinion out loud, the cold was starting to eat through their jackets and honestly with the amount of sightseeing they had been doing since they arrived a week ago, just sitting down with a drink sounded great to Oscar.

Logan started trying to google where they should go while Lando was arguing that they should just start walking in a random direction. Looking back to that moment Oscar was sure that it wasn't a coincidence that they managed to stop directly outside the gates of Trinity College University (a place Oscar only remembered the name of because of the tour they took a few days prior, to look at some old book, it was Logan's idea) because just as they finally seemed to settle on a place Lando immediately searched for the first person he could see to ask for directions. "Excuse me love, could you tell us how to get to The Temple Bar?"

Oscar heard her laugh first, but once he turned to look at the poor girl his teammate was harassing he was a goner. She was dressed far better for the cold than they were, her long black wool coat matched her boots and by the smile on her face he could tell that she thought the question was ridiculous. There was a sparkle of recognition in her eyes as she took in the trio of racers stood in front of her. "I could, but you'd be spending outrageous money for a shit pint and its so crowded this time of the day you might not get a table for hours." Out of the corner of his eyes Oscar could tell that Logan and Lando were content to start looking for other people to ask but he bet them to it. "Would you know somewhere better we could go?" His voice made the other two boys stop in their tracks and look at the her expectantly, and good god Oscar was not ready for her to aim that megawatt smile at him, he could physically feel his heart stutter and begin racing. "I might, I'm actually heading there myself if you boys want to join me?"

That was how they ended up on the other side of the big river that Oscar couldn't care to remember the name of right now, joining a table of four people in the beer garden of Fibber Magees. They had been there for two hours but he wouldn't have been able to tell if not for the fact that the band that was playing music inside the pub when they arrived had ended their set, another one quickly taking their place. Lando had disappeared with one of your friends to grab another round of drinks, and Logan was too busy talking to another one about the NFL. But Oscar, he was completely captured by her. The night stretched on with the Aussie hanging onto her every word, learning about her studies, her hobbies, the man was so whipped that by the time the bar was calling for the last orders of the evening he knew her favourite bands by name and had the names of her dogs (Jackie and Wilson) comitted to memory.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

As the group tumbled out onto the streets that were started to become littered with snow, everyone was having a blast, and clearly, no one wanted the night to end. However, the promise of early engineering lectures and a date with that absurdly old library from earlier in the week had the girl that Oscar was sure he could sketch in perfect detail deciding to retire for the evening, but not before she whipped her phone out of that obscenely warm coat she wore and held it out to him.

It took a beat before Oscar figured out that she wanted his number, and despite how cold his fingers had now gotten he triple checked that he had in fact not mis typed the wrong digits, the name 'Oscar (from Fibbers)' being his final addition before he handed it back to her. The laugh that left her was warm, so much so that his nearly frost bitten fingers were completely forgotten in that moment. She started typing on the screen and when she pivoted the screen back to him so he could read it, where his contact name had originally sat on the top of the now open chat a new name took its place, 'lucky number 81 🧡' now filled the space and before he could think about how he hadn't ever actually told her that he was the famous Oscar Piastri that drove for Mclaren F1 and not just Oscar the Australian tourist that had been slowly falling in love with her for the last 6 hours, she stood on tip toes to land the softest kiss on his cheek. And with that, she gathered her friends, and before he could move from the spot he was rooted to, the group had already turned the corner at the end of the street and was gone.

When the trio finally made their way back to the apartment and stopped making fun of him for his smitten behaviour, Oscar was distracted by his notification tone. The text was simple, and attached was a Google maps link to Irish International Circuit Mondello Park.

Unknown Number: you did really well last season, but I want to see if you've still got those karting skills. Friday at 12, don't be late!

Fibbers girl xx

. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The season had officially drained Oscar and best believe that he was ready for his winter break to start, the final laps of the Abu Dhabi GP had his entire life's dream in its grasp, Mclaren has already secured their fourth constructors championship in a row and now he and Lando were neck and neck for the drivers championship. Not starting from pole was not ideal for the aussie but after an intense back and forth overtaking fight with Max and Lando and a red flag pitstop from Esteban in his Haas, Oscar found himself leading the final lap of what has to be the drive of his life. Tears welled in his eyes and the rumble of screams from the grandstands could be heard over the throttle. The last corner was finally behind him and before he could process that his championship fight was finally over, with him victorious, he was out of the car, weighed for the FIA and being hoisted onto the shoulders of his team.

But the moment that finally grounded him to reality was when he finally managed to escape from the clutches of Zak and his extreme enthusiasm and let his eyes fall on his family still stood crowding the barriers. His sisters finally managing to hop the fence and tackle him into the biggest hug the three girls could muster. There were times that Oscar felt like the worst brother in the world. Leaving his home and family to chase what seemed like an impossible dream, leaving Mae Edie and Hattie behind only experiencing them growing up through photos in family group chats, late night face time calls and flying visits to his home between races. They were proud of him though, he could see it in their eyes as they finally relented their vice grips on him.

His mother stood in place behind the barrier, the tears in her eyes and the smile on his face telling him that all their sacrifice was worth it, that her pride in him would never waver and that before he was the new world champion, he was her son.

Finally, his eyes landed on her.

The warm wool winter coat that he met her in that day was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a papaya dress that did absolutely nothing to hide her growing belly, or the ring on her finger. The smile on her face split his heart in two the same way it did in the freezing cold years ago, and for a second, he considered pulling a Rosberg. He was world champion, he had nothing left to prove, so disappearing from the racing world to spend his life wrapped up in you, in your growing family, and Jackie and Wilson who were no doubt snoozing on their couch at home in Monaco.

Well it didn't sound bad, not one bit.

. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Did I start this over a month ago?? Yes.

Life got busy for a hot sec so I'm extending this event until the season starts in March.

Hope you enjoyed xx

A xx

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you

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alotofpockets · 1 year ago

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Christmas plans | Katie McCabe

Pairing: Katie McCabe x Arsenal!Reader

Prompts: "Is that a hickey?"

Warnings: Mention of reader not having a good relationship with their family, small mention of anxiety.

A/n: Despite the prompt and the warnings, this is overall just a very fluffy fic!

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 2.8k

All around you your teammates were sharing their Christmas plans. You were stretching before training, and the conversation about winter break came up, and everyone was excitedly sharing their plans to visit their families. You dreaded the moment you would be asked about your plans, because opposed to all their excited plans with family, you had no plans of your own. The reason you weren’t going to visit your family during the holidays is because you don’t have a good relationship with them. Since you were still rather new at Arsenal, not many of your teammates knew about this part of your life, though.

Inevitably the question was thrown your way by Lia. Your long time Ireland teammate, and best friend, noticed the panicked look in your eyes, and answered before you had the chance to. “Y/n, is joining me for Christmas. We’re going to stay with my family for a couple days.” You were grateful that the conversation continued after Katie’s response. You had known Katie for years, having met at the U17 team, she had been there for you almost every time that something surrounding your parents had happened.

After training you’re the last one in the dressing room with Katie, the perfect moment to thank Katie for her cover up. “Of course, anytime. You should actually come though.” With a furrowed brow you look back at her. “Oh no, it’s fine. I can just stay home. It’s a family holiday, I don’t want to intrude.” Katie packs the last of her stuff into her backpack, “I think you've spent enough time at the house to be considered family.” It's true, you had spent a lot of nights staying at the McCabe's when things got bad with your parents. “Mom loves you more than she loves me anyways, I know she would love for you to join us. Plus, I think it would be really nice.” So, like that it was settled, you were joining the McCabe’s for Christmas.

Gary was there to pick you up from Dublin Airport. You greeted him with a quick hug, before putting both your own and Katie’s suitcase in the trunk, letting Katie have a moment with her dad. The drive to their place wasn't long, so in no time you were hugged by the rest of the McCabe family that was currently home. “It's so good to see you, Y/n! I'm glad you could join us for Christmas.” Katie's mom excitedly shares, making you feel welcome instantly. “I wasn't sure where you preferred to sleep, I can make up the couch, Gary can set up an air mattress, or I can ask one of the kids that won't come home until Christmas eve if you can take their room for the time being? I'm afraid that the guest room is currently occupied by quite a mess, as we've been renovating a bit.” Katie goes in to hug her mom as well. “Don't be silly, mom, we can just share my room.” She looks your way to see if you're okay with that too. “Yeah, I'm fine sharing with Katie. What have you been renovating?” You knew that Gary loved showing off what he was working on. Like you expected he excitedly asked you to follow him, as he was pointing to everything he was planning on fixing. You listened full of interest, always having loved listening to people talk about what they are passionate about.

Meanwhile in the living room Katie gets questioned by her sisters. “So, does Y/n joining us for Christmas mean you guys are finally together?” Ella starts. “Y/n's here because she's my best friend. Also, what do you mean finally?” Her brow furrows slightly. “Come on, you can't tell me you don't like her more than that.” Lauryn continues, clearly sharing the same thoughts about the two of you as Ella. In response Katie just rolls her eyes and walks away, joining her mom in the kitchen. Leaving a smirking Ella and Lauryn behind, “She didn't deny it.” The two of them share a look, “So, we're definitely going to try to get them together before Christmas right?”

“Already done with your sisters? You only just got here.” Sharon jokes with her daughter. “They're meddlers, I did not come here for that.” Katie jokes back, as she sits down with her mom. “Not to meddle but-” Sharon laughs at the warning look Katie sends her way, “I always thought the two of you would make a lovely couple. I want you to find your own way, though, and of course I just want to see you happy.” Not a minute later you walk back into the room, deep in conversation with Gary. Katie takes the moment to pull you away, bringing your suitcases up to her room, and settling in.

It was already late, so you and Katie decided to call it a night, getting some well deserved rest after a busy few months. The next day you planned to go shopping with Katie, insisting on getting her family members presents of your own and not just sharing the ones that she had ordered to her parent’s home over the past couple of weeks.

You weren’t the biggest fan of shopping when a holiday as big as Christmas was coming up, with all the busyness that came with it but you wanted to get them something nice since they were opening up their home for you. Katie noticed the slightly panicked look in your eyes as you entered the mall, and reached for your hand. You squeeze it appreciatively, before intertwining your fingers with hers. She guides you around the mall, entering all the stores you want to check out. Having Katie close by helped a lot with your anxiety, Katie always knew how to be there for you in any situation.

When you got all the presents you wanted to get, the two of you settled in a little cafe. You were sipping on your hot chocolates, and watching the Christmas decorations around the mall, when two young girls walked up to you, accompanied by their mother. “Hi, we’re so sorry to interrupt but we were wondering if maybe my daughter's could take a picture with the both of you, they're big fans.” Katie stood up and greeted them, “Yeah, of course you can.” She beamed. You stood up as well, giving each of the little girls a hug. The mom got ready to take the picture, as the girls moved to stand in between the two of you. Their wide smiles didn't falter when they stepped away. You took a moment to talk with the girls, before they went on their way again. The mom thanked you for making her girl's Christmases. Both you and Katie love meeting fans, the young ones especially, as it showed you that what you were doing was inspiring young children.

On the way back Katie told you about one of the Christmas traditions her family had. “So, each year mum buys everyone a pair of Christmas pajamas, and we spend the evening watching Christmas movies.” You thought it was an adorable tradition. So much so that when you got back you had to fight to keep in your tears when Sharon let you know that she had placed pajamas for both you and Katie on Katie’s bed. You thanked Sharon before Katie pulled you towards her room, knowing how much you hated crying in front of people. Once in her room, you fall down on the bed. Katie sits down next to you, and you instantly reach for her touch by laying your head down in her lap. You let your tears flow freely, while she gently strokes your hair. “Do you want to talk about it?” Katie asks softly. “Just that your family is so loving, and they’re including me in all of it. I’m not used to that, and the difference is a lot. It’s really nice though, they’re making me feel very loved.” You lift yourself up from Katie’s lap, “Anyways, we should head down.” Katie shakes her head, pulls you into her side, and falls down onto her back, pulling you along with her. “They can wait for a little bit.” You try to protest but when Katie doesn’t give in, you relax into her. Your head now on her chest, as she continues to play with your hair.

Once you feel ready to head downstairs, your eyes finally land on the pajamas that Sharon picked out. A pair of matching red flannel pants, along with two simple black t-shirts. You both change into the outfits quickly, before joining the festivities downstairs. The family pilled down in the living room, the table filled with snacks, and the first Christmas movie started playing on the TV. It doesn’t take long for you to snuggle into Katie, who instantly wraps her arm around you. The moment not going unnoticed by Ella and Lauryn, who share a knowing look.

The next morning you head downstairs in your matching Christmas pajamas for family breakfast. Today the family had plans to go to a nearby Christmas market, play some board games, and in the evening you and Katie were planning on going on a Christmas light walk. You had seen an ad for the event in the mall, and were very excited to go.

Right as you walk through the door post, Lauryn says, “Katie, what's that above you?” Katie looks up and you follow her gaze. You didn't see the warning look that Katie sent her sister's way. “Why is there a mistletoe?” Both Lauryn and Ella try to hide their giggles, while Ella says, “It's a Christmas tradition to kiss someone under the mistletoe, so I assume it is to spread the holiday joy.” with a slightly teasing tone. Katie looks back over to you, searching your face for what she should do. “We don't have to, if you don't want to.” You lock your eyes on Katie's, “I mean it's bad luck if we don't, right?” You joke back, sending her a smile and a nod, letting Katie know you're okay with it. Katie leans in and pecks your lips. “So, breakfast?” Katie says as she quickly turns around again, hiding her flushed cheeks from you.

Your morning and afternoon were jam-packed with family activities, and while you loved every part of it, your mind kept going back to Katie’s lips on yours. How soft they were, and how badly you wanted to kiss her again. Though, you had convinced yourself that for Katie the kiss was probably just for the tradition of it. You couldn't have been more wrong though, Katie badly wanted to talk to you about the kiss, but she hadn't been able to get you alone for a single moment today.

The first moment the two of you were alone that day, was on the way to the Christmas light event. The car ride itself was quiet besides the radio softly playing in the background, both of your minds running at full speed. Katie parks the car, and right from the parking lot you could already see lights all around you. While you were slowly turning to take in all of the beautiful lights, Katie’s eyes were fixed on you. “What?” You say while a blush rushes to your cheeks, when you notice Katie’s eyes on you. The usual confidence of the girl in front of you, replaced by nervousness. “Nothing, it’s stupid.” She says trying to turn away but you grab her arm and pull her back around. “If you’re thinking about it, it’s not stupid.” You seemingly convinced her as she took a deep breath. “Would you have kissed me if we weren’t standing under a mistletoe?” The question takes you by surprise, as you had convinced yourself that it was just you lingering on the moment you had shared this morning. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.” Katie turns on her heels again, thinking she had her answer by the lack of your response. The action makes you jump into action, once again reaching for her arm. This time you don’t just use the pull to turn her around, you also use it to bring her closer to you. You lean in and connect your lips, smiling into the kiss, as you feel Katie kiss back. The feeling of her soft lips moving in sync with yours sent shivers down your body, while simultaneously making you feel warm inside.

After you pull away from the kiss, you look at Katie and see the Christmas lights reflect in her eyes. “In case that didn’t answer your question properly, that meant yes.” You joke, making her laugh. She playfully pushes you away, before stepping besides you again to intertwine your hands. You spend the evening walking around the lit up city center, enjoying every moment together.

You arrive back at Katie’s childhood home way past midnight, so the house is already quiet. She pulls you into the warmth of the home by your hand, only feeling you resist when you walk through the doorway to the living room. She follows your eyes up to the mistletoe under which you shared your first kiss. Katie takes a step back to stand in front of you, and wastes no time to connect your lips. The kiss started out soft and sweet, but quickly turned more passionate. Katie pulls away from the kiss breathlessly, “To be continued.” She says as she takes your hand once more and guides you to her room.

The next morning you wake up in Katie’s arms, a feeling you would like to never forget. “Good morning, beautiful.” Katie whispers as she places a kiss on your forehead. A wide smile forms on your face, “Good morning.” After sharing a few soft kisses, you get ready for family breakfast. The food each morning had been amazing, you were so excited for what Christmas would bring.

Lauryn asked if both of you wanted to join her on the pitch that afternoon, which of course you agreed to. It might be winter break, but football was a passion you would always take a moment for. You had been on the pitch for about an hour, when Katie decided to take her jacket off. "Is that a hickey?" Lauryn said loud enough for the whole town to hear. Katie sends a panicked look your way, you shrug your shoulders, knowing there isn’t anything you can do now besides mouthing a sorry her way. Lauryn followed the interaction, her smile growing wider. “Oh my god, it so is! I gotta tell Ella that her mistletoe idea worked.” Katie chases after her youngest sister, tackling her to the ground before she could reach her phone. “You and Ella are a pair of meddlers.” She said, shaking her head, as she helped Lauryn up. “It worked didn’t it? Mum’s gonna love this.” You watched the interaction with a smile on your face, realizing that her whole family was rooting for the two of you together.

On Christmas Eve the rest of the McCabe siblings, along with their partners and children joined you at the McCabe’s, and it wasn’t long before they all knew about you and Katie. You were nervous at first, not wanting the dynamic to change, but quite the opposite happened. They were happy for the both of you, and continued to treat you as family, like they had done the past couple of days.

All in all it was a wonderful Christmas with her whole family, lots of presents, amazing food, and company from the loving family. Katie was watching you interact with her cousins with adoration in her eyes, she couldn’t wait to continue creating memories together. The family got together for a series of group pictures. You took a couple of the McCabe siblings, and some of them all together with their parents, as well as Sharon taking individual ones of each of her children with their partners, and kids if they had them.

Katie later posted a collection with her favorite ones, along with the caption ‘Family time❤️🎄’. She added the picture Sharon took of the two of you, where you have your arms around her waist, as she places a kiss on your cheek. You posted the ones you were on to your own Instagram with the caption, ‘Thank you for the best Christmas ever❤️’.

It didn’t take long for the Arsenal group chat to explode upon seeing your posts. You were laying in bed with Katie, scrolling through the loving messages your teammates were sending your way after Katie confirmed that the pictures indeed meant that you were her girlfriend. That night you went to bed feeling happier than you had ever felt. Truly a high to end the year on.

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#katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe imagine #arsenal wfc #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc imagine #arsenal women #irewnt #lauryn mccabe #ella mccabe #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics

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cillianmurphysdimples · 1 month ago

Text

Female Y/N / Cillian fanfic. (Part Ten)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes so not suitable for under 18s.

Gif credit - @remembering-angels

We Got Issues

Part Ten: Y/N returns to England to attend the London premiere of Small Things Like These with Cillian. She's missed him and he's missed her, and when they delay their intimate reunion until after the premiere, Y/N's intense love overwhelms her at a deceleration from Cillian. [Sexual scenes]

@remembering-angels @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @lavender-haze-01 @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme

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You're not sure how it has arrived so quickly, given how empty the days have been - apart from work - without Cillian around, but the day of the London premiere seems to have landed at your feet fast. You have less than ten minutes until your booked taxi arrives to take you to Dublin Airport, and you're bustling around the house ensuring that your hand luggage contains everything you need. At the front door, your small case is ready to go and your Chelsea boots are waiting beside it. Dressed in black skinny jeans and a cream, turtleneck jumper beneath your denim jacket, you feel trussed up and stuffy inside of the house, but you know you'll be comfortably warm once you step out into the autumnal air. You feel butterflies in your stomach, and you're not sure if it is knowing you'll be able to kiss Cillian again in a couple of hours, or the prospect of a solo flight. You kick off your slippers and push your sock-clad feet into your boots. You glance around, ensuring you'd left everything neat, before you pick up your bag by the strap and hook it over your left shoulder. You push your phone into the right breast pocket of your jacket and exhale loudly. You're satisfied you're ready to go, and you pull out the handle on your case, dragging it with you, as you step out to wait at the door for the taxi that is moments away. You set the alarm as you leave and lock the door securely. You push the keys deep down into your bag to ensure they aren't accidently lost. As you turn to face the short driveway that spans out before the house, your taxi pulls in, the wheels noisy on the gravel below. It's the ‘home stretch’, now, and those butterflies double in your belly. It confirms to you that they are indeed fluttering around at the knowledge that Cillian isn't too far away.

Once you're through check in at the airport, you squirrel yourself away in the same bar that you and Cillian had hidden in. With your phone in hand, and a caramel latte, you perch yourself on a stool. You flick through your email account for work briefly and answer the three that have arrived in the time it has taken you to get to and through the airport, before you declare your annual leave by switching on the automated ‘out of office'. Closing down the app, you tap open your Facebook page and browse through the newsfeed. You smile at the photos of your old school friend, Anna, back in your hometown, sharing the announcement of her new baby daughter, as you send her a heartfelt message of congratulations. She'd been incredibly supportive when there had been circulating stories about your relationship with Cillian, and though you haven't seen her in person for some time, you want her to know you're happy for her. Continuing to scroll, you see a collection of photographs uploaded by Aran and you scroll through them. Lots of funny faces and friends you know you'll probably never meet. He looks happy, smiles like his Dad, and you smirk to yourself as you scroll away again. You place your phone down on the table for a moment and pick up your coffee. Sipping carefully at the hot drink, you glance around you. You watch people moving by and see children skipping and running up and down, excited about upcoming holidays. You smile fondly as you watch an obviously newly-walking little boy as he toddles awkwardly on chubby legs, with his mother close behind him. You place your coffee down and pick your phone back up, and as you turn it on, you look up as someone calls to you timidly.

“Excuse me?” Casting up your eyes, you see a girl before you. She can't be much older than eighteen, and she is made up and has her hair perfectly curled. “Sorry, excuse me,” She has a thick Northside accent and you raise your eyebrows as you smile at her.

“Hi?” You say with a questioning inflection.

“It's gonna sound thick, but are you Y/N?” She asks, and she turns her phone over in her hands nervously.

You frown for a second, then smile softly. “Yes,” you say, unsure. “I am.”

“I knew it was you.” she grins, “I saw your picture on Tumblr, with Cillian Murphy. Youse two were here before weren't you? I just think you're so beautiful, and, like, I don't believe half the shite that got said, you know, about you and him, and his ex.” She laughs, still clearly nervous. “I can't wait to see his new movie.”

You feel a wave of extreme stress flutter through you and hope you don't look as bothered by her presence as you feel. This has never happened before, and you can't for the life of you work out why it's happening now. What was it? A sort of ‘famous by association' kind of thing? You give her another smile. “I'll let him know.” You say, not sure what else to say.

“Can I…?” She asks, holding out her phone. “Just a selfie, like?” Before you even have a word ready to give her in response, she moves closer to you and holds her phone out with her arm stretched, and quickly snaps a picture of the two of you. “Ah, that's deadly! Thanks a million.”

Startled and flustered, you simply smile. “Uh…no problem.” You mumble and watch her with an astonished, wide-eyed look as she walks away cheerfully. “What the fucking fuck…?” You whisper to yourself as you unlock your phone. Processing the interaction, you open your messages and quickly tap out a bewildered text to Cillian.

Just been approached at the airport and apparently they can't wait to see Small Things. Said I'd tell you haha How do they even know me? My flight’s in half an hour. Counting down. See you soon x

You set your phone down again and pick up your coffee. Just as you take the cup away from your lips, you receive a text reply from Cillian. You swipe if open with your index finger.

Fly safe, don't be making friends with random people who come up to you ha ha. Give me a text when you land. X

You shake your head, smirking at his response, and you wonder what he's doing that he has the time to reply so quickly. The excitement to see him soon begins to build again and releases the butterflies in your belly. You want to kiss him, inhale him, and fuck him, and you remind yourself that you've a busy evening ahead before you'll get the opportunity to fulfill your wish with the latter.

When you land in England, it is almost impossible to keep your excitement and desire at bay. You walk at speed, and allow the music thumping through the earphones you'd stolen from Cillian's dresser to keep you from floating away entirely. Dragging your case behind you, you walk with the rabble if people through the arrivals doors and out into the sea of waiting people. Your eyes scan through the crowd hungrily, looking for a specific set of eyes and a telltale beanie hat. But it's Cillian who sees you first, as you turn round to look to your right and slowly scan back to looking ahead of you, your heart beats quickly in your chest. He stands forward from the crowd just a step with a controlled smirk tugging his lips, giving him a cheeky expression all around - and of course, the beanie is on. You grin as you walk towards him, and as you get closer he opens out his arms, welcoming you in with a hug as you drag your earphones from your ears.

“Cill,” you whisper into his ear as you rest your chin on his shoulder, fully encased by his arms. You close your eyes as he holds you tightly, and you return the warm hug with your arm wrapped around his back. You sigh as his affection washes over you. “God, I've missed you.” You continue to whisper, almost disappointed when he slowly pulls back from the hug. When he kisses you, though, that disappointment is quickly replaced. His index finger is under your chin, positioning you where he wants you, and you close your eyes as he firmly but very lovingly presses his lips down against yours.

As he draws back his head, with a sleepy-lidded smile, he reaches down and takes your case in one hand and laces his fingers into yours on the other side. “C'mon,” he says quietly, twitching his head towards the exit. “I can't tell you how much I missed you surrounded by all these people.” He says in a growling whisper, and you know he knows what he's doing to you. Evidently, you're not the only horny one.

He's handsy in the taxi to the hotel, and you rest your head against his shoulder, inhaling him, as he runs his hand up and down your thigh slowly. He doesn't push it any further, and you know he won't, but the tingles that it breeds at the thoughts of ‘if’ he did are delectable. He's the perfect gentleman as you reach the hotel; he carries your case and keeps your hand in his as he leads you to the room. He barely has the door locked behind him, before he abandons your bags to the floor and all but shoves you against the wall. He forces his knee between your legs, leaving you practically sitting against his thigh, as he claims your mouth for his own. His tongue is searching and his hands are wandering, and if it had moved his thigh at all to give you friction, you fear you'd have cum on the spot. You plant your hands around his face, feeling the angles of his jaw beneath your fingers, and you find yourself gasping for air as he pulls his face slowly away from yours. His positioning allows you to feel his obvious erection against your hip, and while you desperately want to strip you both of your clothes, you suspect he's about to engage you in the long game. He draws his body back from yours, smiling at you with an arousal-drunk haziness in his eyes. You clear your throat as you reposition yourself, “Yeah, I, um, I imagine that would have been a bit of a spectacle at the airport.” You say, and it takes a moment before he smiles brightly, shaking his head.

“I told Eileen we'd meet her for a wee while,” he says, and he's controlling himself well considering he'd just pinned you up the wall and you know that he's as horny as it gets. “She wanted to catch up before tonight. Are you fit to go and grab a drink with her now, yeah?” He asks.

You're amused and impressed at his acting skills; if you didn't know his cock was throbbing in his pants then you'd never have guessed. You decide you're going to play him at his own game and you slowly moisten your lips with your tongue as he stares at you, waiting for your answer, before you reply. “I'm easy,” you say, “You lead, I'll follow.” You catch the twitch of his eyebrow and the hard swallow that bobs in his throat.

“What, um…” he fumbles his words and clears his throat. “What did you decide on for tonight?” He asks, “You said you weren't sure what you were going to wear when you text.”

“Oh,” you smile, “The black dress, with the thigh slit, and the overcoat.” You say, and you know from a previous dinner that that particular dress is a favourite of his. Looking around, before you ask him the reciprocal question, you can see his olive green, almost grey coloured shirt and burnt orange jacket hanging in the door of the wardrobe against the far wall of the hotel room, and you smile at his choice. “You're wearing those?” You ask as you point across.

He can see he's slowly simmering down, which is a good thing really if he truly plans on you both meeting with Eileen, and he turns his head over his shoulder towards the wardrobe where you're gesturing. He inhales deeply and gives a slow nod as he turns back to face you. “Will I do?” He asks cheekily. As he smiles softly your eyes roam over his lips, and the subtle movement of his tongue as he laps the tip of it back and forth against his misaligned lower tooth.

You avert your eyes and lock yours onto his sharp blue stare, “You'll look great.” You say softly, and the feverishness of the sexual tension seems, for both of you, to have been dampened in favour of loving affection.

He moves closer to you again, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. “I'm so glad you're back.” He whispers as he rests his chin against your shoulder.

Your arms snake around him and as your right hand reaches up to the back of his neck, you once again miss the length of his hair to turn your fingers over in. “Me too.” You smile, turning your face a little, and you breath deeply against the skin at the side of his neck. He smells of comfort and familiarity, and while the sexual desire hasn't disappeared, you're almost glad it has taken a back seat to allow for the comfortable intimacy of physical touch without the need to strip one another bare getting in the way.

When you arrive for the premiere, you feel like you've entered Narrnia. You feel incredibly overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of the bustling London street, lined with fans, journalists, and photographers. Cillian is in a mood - it isn't a typically bad mood, but he is hyper focused and a little bit on edge at the immense level of social expectation ahead - and he does his best to keep you within arms reach in the throngs of people, as much for himself as for you, even as he is moved from pillar to post to speak to people. When you can, you stay close to Emily and Eileen, or with Enda, but it is difficult to attach yourself to one person when they're all being called to stand before cameras and speak into microphones. You stand aside awkwardly as he is called away from you once again, and he waves his fingers towards you subtly as he walks away. You watch him swallow his anxieties as he smiles and responds to the questions asked of him. He speaks with such passion and intelligence, and though you are on the outskirts of his interview, you feel a swell of pride at the gushing responses he receives from the people he speaks with. You're absorbed in watching him, taken by a genuine laugh and lingering smile as he talks to a journalist, and it startles you when Eileen taps her hand against your back as she comes to stand beside you.

“Hello,” you turn your head to her. “Hope you're proud of yourself, everyone's so excited for you two.” you say, and she smiles at you, her eyes crinkling at the sides underneath her thick fringe.

“He fakes it well, doesn't he?” Eileen says, nudging you gently with her elbow. “That he's not desperate to turn around and go home again.” She chuckles.

“I think being so busy at the moment is probably helpful, it's giving him less time to dread all of this.” You laugh lightly. “And then being so absorbed in the work for Peaky, I don't think there's a whole lot of Cillian left.” You say. As you look at him, you can see he's all focus, and he does seem present, but you know his mindset is completely shifted towards ‘Tommy Shelby', and you can see the character mingled with your man. You think you've said it offhandedly, but when you find that Eileen is frowning, you wonder if it didn't come out as you'd expected. But then she speaks, and you know she's understood you perfectly.

“He does give it his all, doesn't he?” She says quietly. “Ah, sorry,” she quickly apologises as she's waved over from off into the crowds. As she walks away, shifting her posture, you stand alone once again and it's to Cillian that your eyes instantly fall. Once again he's before a shining light and held-out microphone, and he's speaking earnestly with gesticulating hands and considered words. You're proud of him, deeply so. This has been a real passion project for him and being able to be here tonight as it debuts makes you so happy. And still, in that earnest love and pride, burns the same sexual tensions of earlier in the day. He looks amazing; his physical body as much as his outfit choice, and it's all you can do, really, to remind yourself that you cannot sweep him into a toilet or dark corner with the number of eyes that are on him tonight. As your stomach stirs with excitement for him, you make your own need for his body worse by running around your mind all the things you want to do, all the parts of his body you want to see and touch, when the door closes behind you at the hotel again later on. You've never been more relieved that it is decidedly easier for a woman to hide her arousal than a man, as you know if your body were his there would be very obvious indications to your train of thought!

You're so lost in your mind that you fail to notice he has walked away from the crowd and made his way towards you. When he twists his fingers into yours, you blink yourself back to awareness, and the smile that captures your face, you know, is uncontrolled and unintentionally wide. “Y'alright?” He asks, beginning to walk and bringing you with him.

“Yeah,” you smile, looking down at your feet for a moment as you pass a small collection of gathered fans who call out to Cillian. You glance across at them, smiling sweetly, as Cillian gives them a wave and soft smile. You want to ask him how he's coping but you're worried people may overhear anything personal either if you say, so instead you smile as a young girl calls out your name, and you wave nervously towards her. You feel him squeeze his hand against yours as you walk, and the feeling of overwhelming relief when you step through the double doors of the large complex ahead of you is a welcomed one. You glance back briefly, smiling as Emily steps inside a few beats behind you with a cheerful grin.

“Coping okay?” Emily asks, smiling again. “I know it can be a bit daunting.”

“It's fine,” you say, considering it could have felt so much more overwhelming than it had. It's cold inside, still, and Cillian being so close to your left side is a comfort. His hand is still in yours and you know he's probably counting down the minutes, now, until returning to the hotel is the only thing on the itinerary.

“Don't know about you two, but I want a cup of tea and a comfy pair of slippers,” Emily laughs, pulling her cardigan around her more tightly. You feel a bit unsure of what's next as you stand together in the large lobby, waiting for Eileen who, to your relief, slips through the doors just at that moment.

“Me too,” you chuckle in response to Emily. “And maybe a glass of wine.”

“Oh, wine, now you're talking.” Eileen laughs as she comes up behind you. “What was that one we had earlier in the hotel there,” She asks, and she taps her hand against Cillian's shoulder as she speaks. “That red, it was lovely. Cill?”

“I don't know,” you shrug. It had been Cillian who'd brought drinks to you and Eileen at the table of the hotel bar that afternoon.

“What?” Cillian raises his eyebrows and you know that, in his silence, he's been in his head entirely. You don't know if it's the total control that ‘Tommy’ still has, or his social clock meeting its maximum, but you know he isn't focusing on you all.

“The wine at the hotel, what was it?” Eileen asks, crossing her arms over her chest to keep off the cold.

Cillian pulls down the corners of his mouth and his eyebrows rise up his forehead, “Ah I don't know,” he smirks, “Your man just handed it over.” with his freenhand, he scratches his thumbnail against the side of his nose. He looks a little tired, now he's dropped the mask for the people outside, and you lean your head on his shoulder gently.

“Bedtime soon,” you say quietly, and you can see him smile gently and he squeezes his hand in yours again.

By the end of the engagement the majority of the people outside have cleared. There are a few waiting fans, who call out hopefully and wave with excitement as you and Cillian walk towards the waiting car at the end of the pathway, and a lone pap with a quickly clicking camera. He waves politely, calling out a friendly goodbye to the small group, quickly switching his expression to a brighter one. As you reach the car he pulls open the door into the back seats and waits as climb in and shuffle along the seats before he slips in beside you and pulls the door shut with a slam. He sighs loudly and then laughs, and you can see the relief wash over him.

“My feet are killing me, and we sat for ages,” you laugh, turning your ankles to take the pressure off your feet. For a moment, his hand rests on your leg just above your knee, then he draws it back to himself. His fingers fidget together in his lap and you know he's had enough. He hasn't got an ounce of social ability for the outside anymore, and you know that it'll take him the trip back to the hotel, and maybe even a little longer, before he has words for you, even. You take no offence, though, because you know that there's nothing personal in it. You'd experienced this reaction in him in numerous situations and, just as he didn't take your anxieties to heart, you tried your hardest not to, too.

It makes you feel better, though, when you reach the front of the hotel and he holds open the car door for you, and instantly clasps your hand when you start to walk inside. As you wait for the lift he keeps hold of your hand, with an altered angle, and stands behind you slightly with his body pressed into yours. Gone is the fatigue, you think to yourself when his free hand rests against your hip, over your ankle-length coat. You lead into the elevator when the doors slide open, and he follows without letting go of your hand. As the doors slide slowly closed again, he turns towards you and his free hand slides up against your cheek, his thumb against your cheekbone, and he kisses you hungrily. Despite holding tight to your bag, you wrap your arm round his back, pulling him closer, and sigh through your nose as he pushes his lips against your harder. It's almost a loss when he draws back his head, his hand still on your cheek. Your eyes flick side to side as you scan his eyes. Moving his thumb back and forth a couple more times, he smiles softly then draws his hand away. Lucky, really, as the doors draw open just as he steps back. You walk together, hands still entwined, towards the hotel room. Cillian unlocks the door, only then releasing your hand, and pushes it open to allow you into the room ahead of him.

With the door shut securely, he watches from the doorway as you shrug your coat off. You drape it over the back of a chair tucked in under a dressing table, and then toe your heels off with a sigh of relief. Your dress reaches the floor, now, and the side, thigh-high split reveals your leg as you stand with your hip dropped. The thin straps on your shoulders remarkably haven't slipped all night, and your carefully positioned bust has, too, stayed in place inside the deep v-shaped front of the dress. You smile as he walks through into the room properly, sliding his jacket down off his shoulders. He tosses it easily over onto the chair and it lands on top of yours. The short sleeves of his shirt are tight around his biceps, and you let your eyes wander over his entire body as he stops before you, both of you standing by the foot of the bed. He reaches out both hands and cups them around your face, and plants his lips to yours. It's soft and loving, but there's a feverishness to the way he breathes, and after a moment his hands are on your back - the kiss unbroken - as he finds the zip of your dress and pulls it down slowly. His hands come back to paw at the thin straps on your shoulders and he sends the dress tumbling down your body with a quick swipe of his hands. With you standing in your strapless bra and rarely worn super-small thong, he steps back just enough to run his eyes up and down your body. There isn't an inch of feeling exposed in you; you want him to look, you want him to want you.

Then the hunger wins. He takes you in his arms but allows you to swiftly remove his shirt. It's mere moments before his trousers are gone, too, and he frees himself from his boxer shorts as you unhook your bra and throw it to the floor. He takes the task of removing your thong for himself, and slides the barely-there material down your thighs and lets it fall at your feet with your dress. He takes you to the bed awkwardly, too focused on kissing you passionately to move with any coordination. He brings you to the edge of the bed and finally releases you. At the pause, you climb up onto the bed and sit in wait as he turns around for a moment. When he turns back, he's clutching a small silver packet, and you know that the risk of a fight after this is far from both of your minds. You hold out your hand, and when he raises his eyebrows, you nod with a smile.

“If you're paddling with your socks on, we may as well make it fun to put them on.” You say, pushing up onto your knees as he stands at the side of the bed. After a moment of looking a little unsure, he hands you the condom. You hold it for a moment, and instead of immediately placing it on you lower your body and take him in your mouth. His hands instantly cup around your head, his fingers in your hair, and by the sounds he's making you know that his mouth is wide open in ecstasy as your tongue and lips work the length of his penis. Your tongue cups around the underside of his full shape, and you slide your mouth up and down until you feel him beginning to apply a little more pressure to the back of your head. His moan of annoyance is hilarious to you as you release him and rise again, grinning at him for a moment. You make swift work of opening the condom with your teeth, and take it from the wrapper. With your free hand you reach for his penis, and line your body up against his as you stroke him slowly. His lips immediately fall open again, his tongue travelling around his mouth, and he looks deep into your eyes with pupils so wide that the blue is almost gone. You move your hand a little quicker for just a moment then stop abruptly, and the moan in his throat that it draws sends a shiver through your body. Pinching the end of the condom with the fingers of one hand, you slowly slide it down his length with the other until it sits securely at the base of his penis. As you straighten up, still on your knees, he reaches out and cups his hands around your breasts. Massaging softly, he edges his head forwards and peppers featherlight kisses over your collarbone. Your hands roam across his neck and the back of his head.

And once again the fire seems to suddenly ignite in him. He places his hands on your shoulders and gently pushes against you, encouraging you to lie back. As you recline, he climbs up onto the bed beside you. With a little repositioning, he moves your legs apart and places himself between them. With his arms pushed into the bed beside you, he blindly presses himself against your vagina and slides achingly slowly inside of you. The perfect intrusion sends signals all over your body, and you wonder how you've lived without his body for well over a week. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and back, sighing sweetly into his shoulder as he moves in and out of you at slowly increasing speed. His chest is down against yours, his skin grazing your nipples as he moves, and it only doubles the pleasure. His breaths are hot and heavy into your neck as he speeds up again, his body practically slamming into yours as he seems to lose the ability to savour this reunion. His breaths become muttered huffs of “fuck…fuck…” as he rutts into you. The angle of his body provides enough stimulation that your own clitoral orgasm could be easily coaxed, but whatever way he has himself positioned threatens to shudder your body through an intense g-spot climax. There's a passion unlike previous experiences with this tight now. He's needy for you, hungry and desperate, and it's almost animalistic how his hands claw at you constantly. As his thrusts become unexpectedly even faster and deeper, you find yourself unable to control your reactions and you gasp gleeful, breathy variations of his name as you orgasm, your legs shuddering wildly either side of Cillian's sweat-slickened body as he thrusts into you twice more before he moans softly, slightly more high pitched than his growling curse-words, and then pushes into you slowly as he cums, his damp forehead pushed against yours and his mouth open wide. He nuzzles his nose against you for a moment then kisses you softly, before awkwardly drawing his body back just a little then lying down beside, breathing raggedly.

You reach up your right hand and push your hair from your sweat-damp forehead, lying open and unashamed on top of the sheets. You stretch your hand over and pat somewhat comically against Cillian's thigh, drawing an airy laugh from him as his breathing slowly regains its normal pattern. You shift slowly, and turn to your side to face Cillian, then shift once again so you can place your head on his chest. You throw your leg over his. Almost instantly he envelops you in the arm half trapped beneath your body, pulling you even closer against him, and you realise that you've missed the feeling of the hairs on his thighs touching your skin, that you've missed the thud of his heartbeat in your ear, and you close your eyes to absorb the slowly settling beats inside of his chest.

“You looked so beautiful tonight,” he says, breaking the silence, and you're taken aback for a moment. His fingers move a little where his hand is resting against your hip and your skin prickles goosebumps beneath his touch. “Really fucking beautiful,” he continues. “You always do, like, but I looked at you earlier on with Enda and Eileen and I just…” he trails off, and you feel an overwhelming swell of emotion flood through you. You've missed him so fucking much. You shift your head and move just enough to arch up and see his face. His eyes are closed but he opens them as you move, and he meets your gaze with a gentle, sated expression on his face. “I missed ya,” he says quietly. “I'm glad you came back.”

You move forward and push your lips hard against his. You think that if you tried to speak you might cry, so instead you push your lips harder against him and then lie back against his chest, not saying a word, but feeling like you're falling into the warmest of abysses whilst simultaneously feeling like you've finally come home.

#cillian murphy #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #we got issues #reader x cillian #reader x cillian murphy #y/n x cillian #y/n x cillian murphy #female reader x cillian murphy #female reader x cillian #female y/n x cillian #female y/n x cillian murphy #female reader fic #female reader x celebrity

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admiraltx · 6 months ago

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A long morning. Got some get outs trapped that I had been working on. Decided I’d just haul them to the sale barn in Comanche, sign on the gate says closed for the holiday. Shit! I didn’t know it was a holiday. Hauled ass to Dublin sale barn, they’re selling, a complete madhouse, drought and all of us that don’t keep up with holidays had converged on the Dublin sale barn. I felt sorry for the sale barn help. My kid calls and wants me to go home through Gorman and look at a trailer, they’re not home, and there is no trailer on the lot. I’m home and ain’t leaving ever again

#ranching

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occasionally-poetic · 2 months ago

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marauders characters’ ethnicities/religions/languages pt. 2

valkyries edition!!

again these are just my own HCs don’t take this too seriously x

lily orlaith evans

comes from a proud unionist irish family living in derry (she will slap you if you call it londonderry btw)

practicing catholics (or cyathlics as she would say) but she has a faith crisis in 5th year when she starts liking girls

becomes friends with severus who lives in protestant derry (bc hes a protestant) and her parents are ecstatic (“aw, well, would you look at our lily talking to that wee proddy lad?” “god, but its an awful name. severus? sure, what was his ma thinking?” “ah, now, you wouldn’t have guessed he’s eileen’s wain, would ye?” “eileen? from the post office?” “aye.” “oh, but he’s the spitting image! christ…”) but petunia hates it so much and thinks she must want to be a protestant instead

mostly speaks english at home but is fluent in irish because her nana doesnt speak any english

marlene katarzyna mckinnon

irish catholic on her dad’s side (wizard)

polish catholic on her mam’s side (muggle)

parents are split and she lives with her ma and siblings in finglas (north dublin) while her da owns a pub in derry which she visits (stays with him during holidays after she falls out with her ma)

speaks polish fluently because she was raised by her ma (who didn’t speak english) and teaches remus some polish so he can talk to his dad in it (and she can speak in her first language)

lily helped teach her irish while she was at hogwarts and wanted to get closer to her da

mary tiyanna macdonald

afro-brazilian catholic on her dad’s side - he grew up in rio and moved to jamaica as a young adult (some irish/scottish heritage there, thus the surname)

jamaican rastafari on her mum’s side - met her dad in kingston on a night out and ended up marrying him and having 8 kids (they got busyyy)

her parents moved to liverpool when they were in their mid 20s on the windrush

but they always visit jamaica and while at hogwarts mary spends most summers there

speaks jamaican patois at home, but knows some portuguese from her dad and his family

struggled to speak standard english and kept slipping into patois when she started at hogwarts, so she ended up accidentally teaching marlene a ton of patois

her family aren’t very religious, but they go to the local catholic church for mass at christmas and easter

her parents and siblings are all muggles btw!!

okk guys hope you like these! think im gonna do the skittles/emeralds next, and again please leave any suggestions!!

#marauders #the valkyries #lily evans #irish lily evans #marlene mckinnon #irish marlene mckinnon #polish marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #jamaican mary macdonald #brazilian mary macdonald #headcanon #catholic #rastafari #hope you guys like these #dont cancel me

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jokeroutsubs · 2 years ago

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Interview with Joker Out's member Nace Jordan, from Slovenian magazine Kranjčanka!

"Enriched by a special experience"

We caught up with Nace Jordan, bassist of Joker Out, a week or so after the Eurovision show in Liverpool, a few days after the show in Zagreb, and just before they left for the show in Dublin, where they sold out their first show in twenty minutes… On stage, they kept company to the Irish performers.

The fact that this guy, who is otherwise from Mlaka (T.N: small village near Kranj), is fully booked, can be confirmed by telling you that he moved into a new flat in March of this year - he has been living in Ljubljana for some time now - but he has spent less than 14 days there until it was time for the Eurovision Song Contest. He still returns to Kranj at least twice a week to visit his mother and to stay true to himself: he decided to get a personal trainer a while ago, so now he also goes to Kranj to train there.

Nace Jordan came into contact with music in primary school. He first played the guitar, which he soon replaced with the bass guitar. "Around the fifth grade of primary school (T.N: 10-11 years old), I became interested in instruments and a classmate and I decided to start a music group. He bought a drum set and I bought an electric guitar. Then we quickly saw that there were no bass players. So I sold the guitar and bought a bass guitar," he explains. He has no formal musical training, but says he has been lucky that wherever he has gone in life, there has always been a good mentor who has been able to guide him.

I: How long did this primary school group last?

N: In those days it was a well-known Kranj band called Success. We did a lot of gigs. It's interesting that all the band members from that time are now living off music. They are, for example, the guitarist Nejc Ušlakar, Tajda Jovanović - also from Mlaka - who is a top classical singer and used to sing at the famous Scala in Milan; if I am not mistaken, she is now teaching classical singing in Dubai. We just created an environment for ourselves and stayed in music. The drummer and keyboard player, Aljaž Bernik and Miha Petrovič, have, for example, a very successful wedding band, called Pop Deluxe.

I: What came after primary school? (* (T.N: In Slovenia, primary school lasts for 9 years, from ages 6-15)

N: I enrolled at the then Iskra University, majoring in mechatronics, but just before graduation I started working - actually playing on a cruiser. By some chance I found myself at a jam session open mind in Kranj, where the Kranj drummer Rok Rozman was looking for someone to go on the boat with him. He was impressed with me, I auditioned and of course they weren't very happy at home when I confronted them with the fact that I was going to take my final exams the following year. I was just 18 years old.

I: Was that a cruise ship?

N: Yes. We were travelling in the Baltic Ocean. I remember that we started in Germany, in a port north of Hamburg, then continued on to Gdansk, St Petersburg and to the Scandinavian countries.

l: That was probably the only time you've been on a cruise ship of that kind, a tourist cruise ship?

I've had a lot of people ask me if I would ever go on holiday on a cruise ship. Probably not. But I would go and have another look at the one I played on.

I: When you came back to Slovenia, did you graduate from high school? N: I didn't and I still regret it a little bit. When I came back from the ship, I started working with the singer Katarina Malo. During that time, I was also taken under the wing of two musicians from Primorska (T.N.: a region in the South-Western part of Slovenia) - that's what I mentioned: I found myself somewhere and then a mentor came along. I learned a lot from them. They were David Morgan and Denis Beganovic - Kiki. The first one is a top jazz drummer from the coastal area, he organises a lot of stuff, and he also plays with Avtomobili (T.N. slovenian band), I think he even played with Plestenjak (T.N. Jan Plestenjak, a famous Slovenian pop singer) at one point. Whereas Kiki is a multi-instrumentalist. He's an extraordinary talent. He has worked with Kanzyani and other famous DJs and musicians from abroad. He has made a lot of music, and he also led the Big Band from the coastal region. That was a really nice period for me. I even moved to the coastal region for a short period.

I: Why music, why not football?

N: Certainly not football (laughs). It's the sport I'm least talented in, or rather, all ball sports fall into that context - be it table tennis or football; and, even though my surname is Jordan, I'm the worst basketball player in the world (laughs). Just two days ago, I met my first grade teacher, and of course the topic of music and Eurovision came up. She told me that she knew even back then that school was not for me, but that I would definitely do something creative in my life. It brought back memories of how bored I was at school and how I would rather draw under my desk than listen, even though I was not a bad student.

I: You haven't been a member of Joker Out for long.

N: Since last year. Martin Jurkovič, the original bass player, felt at some point that music was not his main path. He is also an extremely talented programmer and is studying in that direction. He wants to study abroad and decided to finish that chapter. I knew the lead singer of the band, Bojan, from some mutual friend groups before, and the guys were looking for someone who was around their age, professional, good at what they do, and they thought of me. And Martin was in favour of me coming into the group instead of him.

I: And did you imagine that the band would continue the way it did?

N: From the beginning I went into the band with a bit of hesitation. I even suggested a test period. I had learnt that there has to be chemistry between the members. And if we didn't get along with each other the way we do, we wouldn't have performed on the Eurovision stage. We would have had a fight otherwise.

I: Do you spend a lot of time together?

N: First there were the Eurovision showcase concerts, and now there is the summer concert tour in Slovenia. We also have quite a few problems, because we get a lot of calls from abroad. It's logistically difficult, so we're looking for a solution to link some of the concerts to the tour. After the Eurovision Song Contest, we really started to get noticed abroad.

I: Was this your first Eurovision Song Contest?

N: Yes. But I have been to EMA (slovenian national selection for ESC) several times before.

I: Was it as you imagined it would be?

N: Even better. I can say that everyone who has been through this kind of experience has told us that it will be really tough: there will be a lot of work, but that we should also expect crazy parties. But in the end, it was much less exhausting than we expected. In fact, we had such a busy schedule beforehand that Eurovision itself was almost easier for us afterwards. We were practically in the Arena for five days, the rest was socialising, interviews and other commitments. In principle, we like that.

I: You seemed to be well received.

N: We were lucky enough to have connected with practically all the performers. We were always in a good mood, which was seen and felt both in the performances and in the interviews, during the statements. We came home really enriched by a special experience. And it was really nice to see how the people at home supported us. After the first semi-final, we got some footage of how they were watching us and we were just amazed how behind Bežigrad (Ljubljana district), let's say, they watched the first semi-final show in an organised way. The energy was crazy, like at a match.

I: What about Liverpool? Was there any time to "play tourists"?

N: During Eurovision, not really. We were in Liverpool before, because we were shooting a video. I think it was after Barcelona, and we did a lot of walking around the city then. For those who like the Beatles, Liverpool is great.

I : How did it come about that you went to Eurovision in the first place?

N : When I came into the group, the guys and I immediately started talking about whether we would go to this year's EMAs. We decided to go. We knew we would definitely be one of the favourites because we have a really big and extremely loyal audience. Well, then the EMA didn't happen. The jury decided to make their own choice, from the five entries who had the most songs of the week during that year. And I think only two of us ended up applying. There was no EMA, and they sent us to Liverpool.

I: You mostly use Slovenian in your songs.

N: Of course. We have a few songs in English, but we mostly sing in Slovenian. We were talking about how we would work going forwards, and we agreed not to bother with the language. We are proud of our Slovenian language. It's really something beautiful when you see an adult Peruvian man or a five-year-old Spanish girl singing our song in Slovenian. In that moment you understand the athletes and you are proud to be Slovenian.

I: How is it on the street? Do people recognise you? You often hear: is that the bass player of Joker Out?

N: Yes, quite. Most of the time it's people who say something nice to you, or want a selfie. Of course, there are also some "admirers" who stick gum all over my car or leave messages. There's a good side and a bad side to being a public personality. Sometimes it requires of you to spend three hours taking photos - but if you enjoy doing something, that's not a problem either.

I: Do you think that it is actually the fact that you get along well in a group that "pulls" in the audience?

N: The energy between us is definitely something that is contagious. I don't know if it's what makes the audience really like us, but it's something that puts even someone who is in a bad mood in a good mood.

Translation by @kurooscoffee (jokeroutsubs). DO NOT REPOST!

#nace jordan #joker out

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i-am-worm · 8 months ago

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Inktober 52 2024 - Week 25 - 'Abducted'

There are twice as many stars as usual...because some were UFOs.

I'm currently on holiday in Ireland right now, enjoyed Rammstein in Dublin and now I'm in the Belfast area. Stunning views all-round. So just a photo of the art I did whilst on my trip but wanted to upload my inktober52 now. Will get a better quality scan once I'm home.

#inktober #creature #monster #inktober52 #alien #inktober 52 #ufo #Alien #Star #Calf #Cow #Two heads

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year ago

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Masterlist of Bella's Michael Kinsella Fics

Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Series

Safe Haven [Chapter List]

Warnings/tags: 18+; series contains violence, hurt/comfort, domestic abuse mentions, angst, smut, fluff, mutual pining, friends to lover

Contracted to work on your next novel, you leave the States and move in with your sister in Dublin in hopes of a quieter, peaceful place to work on your writing. And somewhere safe to hide. But you weren't expecting to meet your sister's attractive and curious neighbor, the one fresh out of prison–Michael Kinsella. And you certainly weren't expecting to become his safe haven, or for him to become yours–especially when your past eventually finds you.

In Search of Solace [Series Masterlist]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x baker!Fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+; depiction of seizures, depression, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, smut (more tags to come)

When Birdy witnesses him at his most vulnerable, Mikey finally loses it. After unloading the truth about how he can no longer continue down this path, Birdy promises to help him relocate to a town in the U.S. near Anna's new university–far away from the Kinsellas. But while Michael grapples with the man his family forced him to become, struggling to find peace in his new life, he's surprised when he finds his solace in you and your strange dog.

She Lit a Fire [Chapter List]

Warnings/tags: 18+; series contains smut, mostly fluff but some angst, and pregnancy

It's been nearing six months since your mother passed and nothing about your fast-paced life feels right anymore. Not knowing what else to do with the inheritance left to you, you quit your job on a whim and book a few weeks stay at a seaside cottage in a small town in Ireland. Unsurprisingly, you're quickly drawn to the handsome bartender at the local pub who curiously doesn't drink–and who also happens to live just down the beach from your cottage. The pair of you end up in a whirlwind romance, but when it comes time for you to leave, Michael is crushed when you refuse to continue things. Though you're certainly surprised to find yourself Stateside two months later pregnant with his child.

I Can't Lose You [List of Installments]

Warnings/tags: 18+; light angst, overprotective Mikey, love confession, smut

The night doesn't go as planned after being tasked by Amanda to seduce a rival drug lord in order to seal the deal for claim to more territory for the Kinsellas. When Michael finds out from his brother what happened, he's not happy with you for following Amanda's orders. Not only is he determined to get revenge on Titan, but he's even more determined to finally get the pair of you out of his family's business.

Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader One Shots

First Thing in the Morning

Warnings/Tags: 18+; nothing but soft and smutty Michael

Michael wakes you up with one thing clearly on his mind.

New Jeans

Warnings/tags: 18+; fluff, dirty thoughts, embarassment, confession of feelings, and Michael’s perfect ass

Tired of the power struggle and constant arguing between Frank and Amanda, you find yourself distracted by Michael’s ass in a pair of new jeans at an early morning meeting. But your inappropriate daydreams are interrupted when you get caught staring.

Whatever You Want

Warnings/tags: emotional hurt/comfort, light angst, fluff, soft Michael

You've been having a difficult year adjusting to your life in Dublin, struggling with a few things that you've kept hidden from Michael so as not to burden him further. Though when he comes home unexpectedly early from a family meeting, you realize he's been reading you better than you'd thought.

Keep Me Warm

Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, soft Michael

After Michael cancels your date night because something came up with his family, you're surprised to find him on your doorstep drenched and shivering from the rain.

The Christmas Morning Surprise

Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, holiday fluff

On Christmas morning you try to surprise Michael with breakfast, but you what you didn't expect was that he had a Christmas morning surprise for you, too.

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #michael kinsella fanfic #kin amc #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella fluff

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hannahssimblr · 1 year ago

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“Jude,”

A small finger prods my cheek. My Forehead. My chin. “Jude. Jude. Judie.” I groan and pull the duvet over my face to stop the sun from searing my eyeballs.

My voice is hoarse, “Did you open the blinds?”

“It’s eight. You’re supposed to get up.”

“God, why?”

My sister repeatedly slaps my head through the covers, “There’s no baguette.”

“No baguette?” What is she talking about? “Ivy, stop, stop,” I grab her little wrist and pull it away from me, awake now and not pleased about it. “Why did you come in here, huh? You’re not supposed to come into my room.”

She whips her arm out of my grip, “But it’s eight,” She says, “and there's no baguette left.”

“Oh, for breakfast,” I rub sleep from my eyes, “Okay yeah, I get it. We’re out of bread.”

“You have to go to the bakery before they all sell out. All the old grannies get there first and they buy up the baguettes,” She throws herself down at the foot of my bed and kicks her feet up in the air. She’s dressed herself already, I see, in scruffy clothes that she’s usually only allowed to wear when she’s staying home. “And I think I feel like a chocolate croissant today.”

“A chocolate one? Since when are you a spoiled little brat?”

She sticks her tongue out, “Uh! You always sneak me a chocolate one when mom and dad are away.”

She’s right, I was just teasing. “Okay, get out of my room and wait for me, I need to get changed.”

She runs obediently out while I drag myself out of bed and into yesterday’s shorts, cursing every other teenage boy who will get to sleep in until midday and beyond today, blissfully free of all responsibility and all little sisters. And Jen too, in the guest room next door, probably sleeping soundly and won’t have to deal with anything like this, and will run free all summer, sleeping under the same roof with different rules to the ones I must adhere to.

It’s a bright morning. The tide is in and the air is salty and fresh as seagulls circle over the strand. The beach cleaners are always out at this time, in their high visibility jackets and yellow rubber gloves plucking up the debris left over from yesterday's holiday makers. Ivy skips alongside me with her worn out sandals crunching on the sand that’s blown in over the ground, gleefully kicking the fallen palm fronds over into the low stone wall that borders the path.

“What are you so happy about?” I say accusingly, though her joy is unfortunately contagious.

“Everything. I’m going to kids club and it’s sunny today and mom and dad are working in Dublin for the whole week and I’m getting a chocolate croissant,” She sings that last word with glee and skips and spins ahead of me, flapping her arms around with free, unfettered delight like she could take off and fly.

“C’mon, you’re hyper. Save some energy for the club. What are you going to be doing today anyway? Art or sports?”

“Yesterday was sport. We did dodgeball but with those soft, squishy balls.”

“The foam ones?”

“Yeah, and one of the boys took a bite out of one of them, it was disgusting.”

I laugh, “You know I used to take bites out of them too.”

She comes back and gives me a slap in the thigh, “You’re a smelly, disgusting boy too, then.”

“Yeah, I am, but I don’t care. Foam has an interesting texture, huh?”

“No it doesn’t, and it’s filthy and it’s all rolled all over the floor and had dirty old hands all over it.”

I shrug, when I was a child the last thing I cared about was whose dirty hands touched what, nothing like Ivy. I shoved everything I could find in my mouth with abandon, I didn't care. Honestly I still don’t really care, because at this point I’ve put the kinds of filthy, unregulated things into my mouth that make a foam dodgeball seem gourmet. “So if you did sports yesterday, does that mean you’re doing art today?”

“Yep.”

From where we stand in the queue outside the bakery, the smell of fresh bread and buttery pastry floats right toward us and makes my stomach growl, “So what do you think you’ll be doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“What would you like to do?”

“Well… once, in school, we did paper weaving.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

She looks at me incredulously, “You know what paper weaving is.”

“No, I don’t.”

A scoff, “You already know everything about art, so you definitely know about this.”

“Well let's pretend I don’t and you can tell me about it.”

And she does, she goes into incredible detail while we wait, and then I buy a baguette and three chocolate croissants, one for Jen, and I get Ivy some juice for the hell of it and a coffee for me even though I’m not sure if it’s coffee I like or the idea of it.

I’m happy to let her talk like that. It fills a gap, and I like it, because when she’s talking so much it means that she’s comfortable and not conscious about annoying our parents or saying something that they think is silly. I want her to be silly. It’s what seven year olds are.

Back at the beach house I even put on music while I make some breakfast, Low by Flo Rida, because our mom hates music like this and always turns the radio off when it comes on, which is all the time lately because it’s plagued the charts for months.

“How can she have apple bottom jeans and baggy sweatpants?” Ivy wonders as she munches on her buttered baguette.

“I guess she has four legs,” I say, and she flinches as I try to grab her nose, “you shouldn’t be listening to the words of this song anyway, they’re for adults.” Last week she asked me what ‘promiscuous’ meant after I let her listen to Nelly Furtado and then I had to pretend I couldn’t find it in the dictionary.

“Why? Because of her big bum?”

“Ivy!”

The boat club is busy that morning with hoards of parents leaving their children at the kids club. Children and parents and me, a sixteen year old brother. I feel self conscious as we wait to sign her in.

“Good morning Ivy,” the activity leader beams down at her with a toothy grin, “Where’s mammy today?”

“Home in Dublin. She’s working.”

“And daddy?” I want to laugh at the absurd impression this woman has that our dad has done anything meaningful or useful for either of us in his life.

“He has to work too.”

“They’re very busy,” I explain, “They usually need to be at home during the summer for several weeks on and off so I’m just stepping in for now.”

“Well lucky that they have you to take care of it all.”

Yes. Lucky me. I pass Ivy off to her and wave goodbye, and as I’m making my way back towards the exit I pass the dining room. I stop and peer through the door curiously, just in case, and alas, in the bright sunlight from the windows, the sound of cutlery and glass and the smell of breakfast in the air, she crosses the room, a flash of blonde in tight black clothes.

“Hi, Clóda.” I say. I’ve caught her off guard.

“Jesus chr- Hello,” She puts the tray she was holding onto an empty table with a clatter and tucks the two front strands of her hair behind her ears. “Where did you come from?”

“I was bringing my sister to the kids club.”

“That’s nice of you.”

I shrug, “I like to give my parents a break from parenting sometimes.” I peer into the chaos behind her, “You busy?”

“Yes, I-” She turns around anxiously, “It’s very busy at breakfast time.”

“Okay well I’ll leave you alone then.”

“No, I-”

I stop, and she pats her silky hair, twisted into a bun at the top of her head, “Are you hanging out on the beach later?”

“Uh, no.”

“Oh right, well, that’s fine then I was just-”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I interject quickly, “I’m just looking after my sister all week while my parents are away, I can’t really leave her alone at night or anything so I won’t really be around.”

She blinks, “Your parents left you alone for a week?”

“Yeah they always do that,” I say casually, “It’s fine. Jen is staying with us so sometimes she helps, but actually, no, mostly she doesn’t, which is fair enough.” I move away from the door to let a patron pass by and Clóda comes to lean with me against the wall, “But if you like, and it’s not weird for you you could always come over and babysit with me sometime.”

“How old is your sister?”

“She’s seven.”

“Cute.”

“She’s not cute, she’s a brat, but she goes to bed at half past eight, so,” I shrug, again, attempting to be cool and casual, and it seems to be working because Clóda is blushing now. “If you’re free tonight? We can watch a film, or… something…” I trail off, privately delighted by her pretty smile, evidence that she’s forgiven me for not touching her boob last week. Maybe I’ll remedy that tonight if she gives me another chance.

There’s a man behind the bar watching us now, “Clóda,” he says sharply, “you have to work faster, get busy please.”

“Oh, um,” She wipes her hands on her trousers and reaches around awkwardly to retrieve her tray. “That’s my dad. He gets annoyed when I chat too much. Especially to… non-customers.”

I grin at the older man and wiggle my fingers at him while he practically snarls, his face jowled like a bulldog. “Nine?” I say to Clóda.

“Yeah, I’ll try.” And she’s gone.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy #he's back baby #i love ivy sm though she's so cute?#we did not see enough of her in lucky girl #i hope this sill be more of the Ivy show #i'm also having too much fun reliving 2008 #what a year #ch: Ivy #ch: Cloda

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 months ago

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I think the movie It's A Wonderful Life probably makes my top five favourite pieces of socialist propaganda. And that is a competitive field; I have a lot of favourite pieces of socialist propaganda. I quite enjoy A Christmas Carol, but that hardly cracks my top 50, probably.

Anyway, I spent a lovely Boxing Day watching some of my favourite socialist propaganda, with my mother and a fire in the fireplace and a tree and it was great.

And guess what else I did! Guess what else I did on this day, the 26th of December, 2024! I booked some flights! I booked two flights!!!

One is for August 2 - really August 2-3, since it runs overnight. From Halifax to London. Because I have the entire summer off, now that I'm working in a school. So I'm going to go visit my grandparents' house in Nova Scotia for the last couple of weeks of July, and then fly to London from there. And then I booked a flight from London to Montreal on August 25, because flights between London and the city where I actually live were convoluted or expensive (you could get easy ones if you want to pay $2,000 one-way, and you could get cheap ones if you want the entire experience to take 55 hours with transfers in Bristol and Lisbon and Toronto), and the city where I actually live is only a couple of hours from Montreal. I can probably get a drive home from there, and if I can't, it's a cheap plane ride.

What am I going to do in between? Well, I've got a lot of it planned out. I've got an Edinburgh Air B&B booked from August 15-24. On the 24, I'll get a train back to London, and fly home the next day. From August 2-14, I have many plans. A while in London again, of course. Then some trains through Wales. Then a ferry to Dublin, a train to Galway, a couple nights in Galway, a plane to Edinburgh, trains through Northern Scotland, before going back to Edinburgh for the festival. I've already booked most of the accommodation for that. And I've booked the Ireland-Scotland plane.

Last summer - 2024 - I went for two weeks. Five nights in London (four days in London, and one day when I took trains to Cambridge and back), then a couple of days taking trains through Western Scotland, then five nights in Edinburgh for the festival. That's because two weeks was the most I could possibly get off work (I really only got four days of work - and was told this was the most I could possibly get for the whole year - because I planned it around the place I worked shutting down for the last week of July, and the following Monday was a statutory holiday). But now, I have the whole summer! So I'm planning a trip accordingly. I'm going to see more stuff.

I've never been to Wales. My family, on both/all sides, has been in Canada for so many generations that I can't legitimately claim any heritage from outside Canada. But the closest I can come to claiming that is that my mother's father's father grew up in Wales, and moved to Canada shortly before having children. He came from a town called Abergavenny, which my grandfather visited as an adult, and my grandfather talks about it all the time, wanting to go back there to honour his father's heritage. My grandfather will never go back again now, as he's too advanced into Alzheimer's. But I'd love to go.

I wanted to go to Wales in 2024, but I couldn't fit it into my schedule. I'm doing it this time, though. I'm working in a stop in Abergavenny. A short stop, because while it has great sentimental value to me because of my family, I've looked up the town and there appears to be nothing interesting in it. But it's on the way to lots of other cool places. I want to spend a couple of nights in Wales.

I first planned a UK trip in early 2021, when I was still relatively early in my Britcom obsession (I mean, I've been into lots of British comedy since I was a kid, but it was March 2020 that made me decide to dedicate my whole life to it), when this blog was only a few months old, when COVID restrictions meant the trip was far more of a fantasy than a plan. I planned this huge route, seeing all these different places, looking at them all on Google Earth to find the coolest spots. It was a lovely fantasy.

In 2024, when going to the UK became an actual possibility, I prioritized the two main things I wanted to see: London, and the Edinburgh Festival. For my 2025 trip, I'll have more days to play with because of the whole summer off, so I've gone into those old documents to find some favourites of my fantasy trip. I've booked two nights in Galway, which was a major part of that original fantasy. Mainly for the music. My dad visited Galway 15 years ago and hasn't stopped raving about it since. My dad and I share a love of Celtic folk music. My dad is always telling me how he could just wander into Galway bars and hear the music everywhere. I got an Air B&B that's right near one of their most famous folk music bars.

And here's one thing that was a major part of the original fantasy trip. The Gladstone's Library in North Wales. Basically, I romanticize old buildings, I romanticize cool libraries, I romanticize anything that looks like it could have existed in a British fantasy novel (I have been told off, probably justifiably, for being reductive about British architecture by excitedly referring to "Harry Potter buildings" - but look, excitedly enjoying majestic old buildings that look like they could have been in Harry Potter is a nice way to indulge my childhood Potter obsession without giving profit to its awful author, though it would be less problematic but equally exciting to call it a His Dark Materials building); while planning my fantasy trip in 2021, I Googled where the cool old libraries in Britain are, and I found the Gladstone's Library.

Fuck, man. You can't ask for better than that, if you're looking to fulfill a deep childhood love of British fantasy novels. I'm pretty sure that's where Lyra Belacqua used to do her research.

So when I first read about this place, I immediately Googled where's there nearest place to stay. Since it appeared to be rural, so I didn't know if it would be accessible, traveling without a car. But it turns out that 1) it's right near a train line, and 2) you can sleep in the library. They have rooms. Rooms where you can stay overnight, like a Harry Potter character. There was no way I could fit this into my 2024 trip, but I've booked a night there in 2025, on August 10. I have the confirmation and everything. For most of this trip, I'm getting the cheapest Air B&Bs possible (and I'm very lucky to be able to stay with people I know in London, avoiding paying for accommodation there). But I have splurged on one night, at the fancy library.

I haven't booked everything yet. I've been booking a little at a time, over the last few months (I booked the Edinburgh accommodation just a few weeks after I got home from my Edinburgh 2024 trip). And I still have lots more to book. But I've booked the two major flights today, and that's what makes it feel real. This is happening.

Happy Boxing Day!

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eternaltae7 · 5 months ago

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Hani’s Family History

Fox of BTS | BTS 8th Member

Interviewer: “Hani, can you tell us about your family background and how it has influenced you as an artist and performer?”

Hani: “Absolutely! I come from a unique blend of Irish and Korean cultures that has shaped who I am. My dad is from Ireland, a charming town just outside Dublin, and he has always had a deep passion for history. He would tell us captivating stories about ancient castles and Irish folklore. It’s funny because he actually moved to Chicago for college, where he met my mom.”

Interviewer: “What is your mom like?”

Hani: “My mom is amazing! She’s from South Korea and is a brilliant artist. She studied fine arts in Chicago and was really focused on painting and pottery. They bonded over their love for culture and creativity. It’s incredible how they both brought their dreams and aspirations together. After they graduated, they moved to Ireland for a few years, where my dad taught history. He was so dedicated that he even spent a lot of time learning Korean, just to connect with my mom’s heritage.”

Interviewer: “That must have been a significant transition for your family.”

Hani: “Definitely! My mom always dreamed of moving back to South Korea one day. My dad, realizing how important that was for her, secretly started applying for teaching jobs in Korea. When he got an offer from a university in Seoul, he told my mom, and she was surprised he hadn’t mentioned it before. She was really excited to return home, even though it came right after I was born. It wasn’t easy for them to move an infant across the world, but they were determined to make it work.”

Interviewer: “How did they adjust once they moved?”

Hani: “They thrived! My dad became an amazing history professor! He has a knack for making history come alive. My mom quickly established herself as an artist and teacher. Some of her work is in local galleries and teaches at a high school. They both found their place in Seoul, and it’s so inspiring to see how they integrated their backgrounds.”

Interviewer: “That’s wonderful to hear. How did your upbringing influence your own career?”

Hani: “My parents really encouraged me to embrace both sides of my heritage. We celebrated Korean holidays like Chuseok and Seollal, while also honoring Irish traditions like St. Patrick’s Day. They blended both cultures seamlessly at home. My mom would cook traditional Korean meals while my dad introduced us to Irish dishes, which created this beautiful fusion. It taught me to appreciate and celebrate diversity.”

Interviewer: “What about your brother, Owen? How does he fit into this dynamic?”

Hani: “Owen is three years younger than me, and he’s incredibly talented in music. We’ve always collaborated on creative projects, and he recently decided to attend the same college in America that our parents went to, which I think is really special. Growing up, we’d often visit our maternal grandparents in Iksan, where my mom would share stories of her childhood. Those visits were formative for both of us, and they instilled a strong sense of our family history.”

Interviewer: “It sounds like family is very important to you.”

Hani: “It really is! We maintain a close connection, often sharing traditions from both cultures during family gatherings. We would visit Ireland every summer, which was magical. My brother and I loved spending time with our grandparents and cousins, hiking and exploring castles. Those trips created lasting memories and strengthened our bond as a family.”

Interviewer: “And how did your parents support your artistic aspirations?”

Hani: “They were incredibly supportive. They always encouraged me to pursue my passions, whether it was music or dance. My mom took me to art galleries, while my dad engaged me in discussions about history, nurturing my love for learning. Their encouragement and the blending of our cultural backgrounds inspired my artistic journey. I think that’s why I strive to create music that reflects my unique heritage—it’s a part of who I am.”

Interviewer: “Thank you for sharing your beautiful family story, Hani! It’s inspiring to see how your heritage has shaped you as an artist.”

Hani: “Thank you! I’m really proud of my background and the values my family instilled in me. It all comes together in my music and art.”

#bts scenarios #bts #bts 8th member #foxofbts #namjoon #yoongi #taehyung #hoseok #jhope #jin #jimin #rm #suga

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toomuchracket · 6 months ago

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have we ever talked more about the Dublin trip mentioned in the first ily fic?

let's talk now!! aside from The leia bikini moment on matty's birthday, your gift to him was a few days' holiday in dublin, because he had been talking about going with you after you said you'd never been - he was so so excited when he opened the envelope with the plane tickets and hotel info and excursion plans, and that continues even when you're waking up at an ungodly hour to fly over because you want to make the most of the day lol. and you do the classic things, you know, wander around temple bar and visit trinity and go to the guinness storehouse; that's a lot of fun, actually, matty being shocked and then very "that's my fucking girl" when you split the g first time, and being his little nerd self taking in all the info about the brewing process and the history and whatnot (you take a really good pic of him during one of these and he makes it his profile pic on absolutely everything lmfao). you go out for nice dinners (and make notes for reviews of a couple because you can't help yourself and also because you can write them off for tax reasons if you do lmfao), really romantic, and have a couple of really great nights in little tiny pubs listening to the trad folk bands playing - you even convince matty to dance with you once or twice, which he's initially reluctant to but then eager to twirl you around and kiss you sweetly when you're holding each other close, and quite honestly that's when you realise you're in love with him teehee. the whole trip is just idyllic, really, hiring a car and driving into the countryside, doing some shopping and letting him spoil you a bit "as a thank you for all this, darling", and i would be remiss if i didn't mention the sleepy morning/evening sex you have in the massive bed in the hotel room (which is. yeah. really fucking good). if not for maggie, you genuinely might not have ever come home, just stayed in that bed and that place with matty forever - he's the one for you, definitely <3

#mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #office nerd au

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frikatilhi · 1 year ago

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Hello yes yes veri gud, how about Jere doing Bojan's makeup? As in, Jere is so casual and natural about wearing eyeshadow, and wants to help Bojči feel at ease with it, too. (Bojan wants to feel pretty, but he's shy about it).

asdfghjkl thank you thank you

“Do I have to?” asked Bojan.

Jere huffed. “Yes! It’s my birthday.”

“So… what? I have to look the part?” Bojan was trying to sound skeptical, even though the idea of Jere doing his makeup excited him a little. But that was precisely the problem. Getting excited was not allowed on this trip.

Coming to join Jere on his tour for his birthday had been kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. Bojan had been on holiday with the band (whose idea was that, really, he wondered now, it’s not like they hadn’t seen each other enough this year), and instead of flying home with them, he had booked last minute tickets to Glasgow. Now they were in Dublin, where Jere was performing the next day, celebrating his 30th birthday. It was just his entourage plus a handful of his friends who had flown in, plus Bojan of course, the party crasher, who had appeared with luggage full of dirty laundry, mostly beach clothes, and no hotel reservation.

“Yes. Have to make you pretty.” Jere was walking him backwards across the room, towards the table where he had just been applying his own eyeliner a moment ago.

Bojan gasped. “So I’m not pretty like this?”

It made Jere laugh. “Not pretty enough for me.”

“Ouch, man!”

Jere sat him down in the chair, turned it sideways from the mirror and pulled another chair for himself. “There. Sit. Stay.”

Being ordered around by Jere was familiar. He was on solid ground like this, at least. Bojan looked at him as he gathered a few things from the table. “Which one?” Jere asked, holding up a few pencils. Bojan figured they were different colors, even though he couldn’t see which. “Black’s fine,” he ventured a guess.

Apparently, that was the right answer, because Jere put all but one of them down on the table and took the cap off of the one left in his hand. He then scooted closer, his legs on both sides of Bojan’s thighs, Bojan’s knees against the edge of Jere’s chair. “Okay, close your eyes,” he said, and Bojan did. Suddenly the room felt quiet, the sounds of the party a little further away, and Bojan felt a rush to his head. The buzz of what little alcohol he’d already consumed went to his cheeks and hummed in his ears.

He felt Jere’s hand on his forehead, his thumb pressing gently under his brow, next to the side of his nose, stretching his lid just a little. Then he was drawing a line on Bojan’s eyelid, on the base of his lashes, carefully, with short strokes. Bojan tried to keep still against the feeling of wanting to escape. Makeup was nothing new, but makeup by Jere? It felt different, off-kilter, it felt queer.

After a while, Jere switched sides, and now his wrist kept touching Bojan’s nose and resting on his cheek as he worked on the other eyelid. Bojan could feel his breath on his face, and a whiff of his aftershave, or deodorant or whatever it was, surrounded him. Bojan reminded himself to keep breathing, in and out, evenly.

“Now, look up,” Jere said, and Bojan opened his eyes, not daring to look at Jere, and darted his eyes upwards. Jere continued drawing on him, along his lower lashes, and Bojan kept staring at the ceiling, fully aware of how Jere now had his hand resting on his exposed neck, thumb along his jaw.

Bojan had been on a journey of sorts, lately. After the summer of feeling weird and grumpy and out of place, and after the week-long rush of adrenalin that had been their Nordic tour, he realised he was actually happier not caring too much about what was proper behaviour or what his actions looked like to other people. He had also been.. experimenting, you could say, finding out new things about himself, late at night on the internet, or more recently, in the showers at the gym after a workout.

And now, the study was done, the results were in, and it turned out his feelings for a certain male friend that had taken over his life and late-night-fantasies in a storm, while totally unique in a way, were also… not. Unique. In a way. Because as Bojan now knew, the part where he had feelings (pantsfeelings) for a man, was, actually, not something restricted to Jere. He was fully capable of appreciating the male form in many formations, be it muscled and strong and dominating, or on the softer side, smooth and cuddly.

If he was completely honest, this was not in any way new information. He should have maybe known for a long time that this was the case, but he hadn’t allowed himself to do so. Not until Jere came along and smashed every inhibition and doubt and excuse he had ever had.

Jere was now smudging the line he had made with his finger. It didn’t seem like a professional way to do it, but Bojan wasn’t about to complain. After going through his lids once more, Jere picked up the pencil again and fortified the lines with it.

Jere surveyed Bojan’s face and turned to the table. “Needs something else,” he said and picked up an eyeshadow palette and a brush. Bojan looked as he surveyed the colours, rolled the brush on one of them, and approached Bojan again. “Close,” he said.

The gentle brushstrokes on Bojan’s eyelids sent shivers down his neck and spine. Jere’s hand that held the palette was on his thigh now, just resting there, keeping him grounded. Jere took his time applying the stuff on him generously, at least that’s what it felt like, and Bojan wanted to fidget, wanted to bounce, but couldn’t concentrate on anything but Jere’s hand.

“Okay… open eyes”, said Jere at last. Bojan blinked slowly, and found Jere’s face close to his own, eyes fixed on his face. Even though it looked like he was looking into Bojan’s eyes, he knew that he was assessing his work. Bojan kept breathing evenly, even though his heart was racing. Under Jere’s intense gaze he felt exposed, vulnerable, like all his thoughts and insecurities and secrets were there, on his face, for Jere to read. Jere’s hand went to his chin and turned his head just a little to look from a different angle, and Bojan let him direct him, first to the other side and then to the other. He avoided Jere’s eyes, let out a little breath. Suddenly he was very aware of Jere’s legs, pressing on either side of his, and his knees, dangerously close to Jere’s crotch, especially when he was leaning forward like that. Jere turned Bojan’s face back towards him, and now he was looking straight into his eyes. Bojan swallowed. He couldn’t hold his gaze, so his eyes flickered from Jere’s eyes to his nose, his lips, down to his throat. Bojan’s own throat was dry, and he licked his lips, nervously, and looked up at Jere again, and panic was rising in him, because he was about to do something colossally stupid.

But then Jere was gone, leaning back, smiling.

“That will do. Look.”

He turned Bojan’s chair towards the mirror, and Bojan looked. It wasn’t as excessive as he had thought. His eyes were lined and the lines were smudged carefully, just enough that it looked dramatic without making him look like a raccoon. His lids were dusted with something dark and sparkly that caught the light when Bojan turned his head.

“It’s.. not bad, actually,” he offered.

Jere beamed. “We should do your nails, too.”

*****

The night was winding down. Bojan was past the peak of his drunkenness, tired but still oddly wired at the same time. He hadn’t seen himself in a mirror in a while, but he suspected his makeup was now in ruins. His new appearance had been met with cheers and whistles, and people had been adding stuff to his face all evening. There was plenty of glitter, both on his temples and in his hair, and there are lipstick marks on his neck, he can feel it, probably in different shades of red and green. He’d been passed around the whole night between everyone, from hug to lap to dance to cuddle, he had made out with at least three people, and posed for countless pictures and videos, some of which would probably find their way online, but right now, he was too happy and too tired and too drunk to care.

He had felt reckless, free, like no-one could touch him or judge him or look down on him. Jere was in the centre of it all, happy and laughing with his friends, and Bojan had felt like he could conquer the world, just like this.

And there was Jere now, in front of him. His resolve to take it easy because he had to perform the next day had crumbled early on, and now he was looking dishevelled and buzzed, and he was grinning.

“Oh baby, look at you. You’re no good to me now,” Jere said with a laugh, taking Bojan under his arm.

“Happy Birthday! Have I told you happy birthday?” Bojan said while clinging to Jere’s side.

“Six and half times, I think.”

“What was the half?”

“You started but someone bite you.”

“Huh. But I haven’t kissed you yet!” Bojan declared, feeling like it’s the best idea he’s ever had.

“You did, right here,” said Jere and pointed to his ear. Bojan leaned closer and squinted.

“Are those… teeth marks?” he asked, a grin spreading to his face.

Jere smiled, as well. “Come on, everybody is leaving. Let’s take you to bed.”

“But…” Bojan wanted to kiss him. Properly, on the mouth, with tongue, leaving no room for excuses or backtracking. And he wanted to do it now, because he didn’t know when he’d ever get so brave, again.

Jere hugged him, tucked Bojan’s face into the crook of his neck. He spoke close to Bojan’s ear. “Hey, let’s save that for… other time. Okei? You need sleep now.”

Bojan felt his resolve dissipating, but at the same time being replaced with something akin to hope. Maybe it was not all or nothing or now or never, tonight. Maybe he’d start living like he was allowed to have things more often. Maybe it would come to something good, something better. The best, even.

“Okay,” he breathed simply against Jere’s neck.

“Okay. Now, let’s wash your face?”

#fanfic #bojere #käärijan #prompt fill

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teethpaste · 3 months ago

Text

It’s so weird how the body will try and protect you like. I am incapable of feeling grief right now. I know it will hit me like a fucking Mac truck in about a month

When I was here in Ireland in July thinking my grandma had days to live, because the doctors told us so, and urged everyone stateside to drop what they were doing and come to Ireland for goodbyes, I was torn up. I was the first one here because I was already in Dublin on business and luckily my job just let me work from Ireland for about 2 months. So that happened. But then she got palliative chemo, and somehow here she is, 5 months later, against the odds in stage 4 lung cancer. I can tell she is so tired. I feel like she was holding on for this holiday and that as soon as I leave Ireland come December 29, it’s going to happen quickly. Which I hate to even write into existence, but sometimes, you just feel it.

And I hope it doesn’t. But I also don’t want her to be in pain. Chemo ravages the body. Her last treatment was over a month ago but the cancer has spread through her whole body and it is wearing her down. She went from still bartending at 77 and going out with her friends weekly + walking the 2 mile trek into town everyday, to finding out she a tumor overtaking her right lung (completely collapsed at this point) from years of smoking. I was sitting with her at the table the other night before I went to the pub, painting her nails, and she asked “can we talk about something morbid”

Things hardly feel morbid these days. So I tell her yes, of course. I feel like I have this desensitized view around death now. Or I’m numb to it. Like my body remembers watching my dad die and is like HEY ITS FINE, don’t be sad in the moment. Because you can’t be. You have things to do. Then you can cave in on yourself.

Anyways, when I told her sure we can, she then got embarasssd and I had to beg a little for her to tell me . She then says “right. Because I know you’ll have the energy to handle”. She just tells me how she wants to be presented for her wake. No makeup, but make sure her eyebrows are done. Hair with a bandana. Jean shirt. Nails painted. Cowboy boots on that she never got to wear in Vegas this year. She starts telling me about where jewelry is and what she wants in a service. I listen and file it away.

I still think I’m stuck on “because you’ll have the energy to handle”. I think about when my dad died, my mom and sister were inconsolable. About how it happened so quickly and we as humans make it very complicated. Do you know how hard it is to transfer a body across state lines? The hospital doesn’t tell you what to do. I had to google so many funeral homes that morning. I think about those people too. The sanitized nature of conversations. The first place I called didnt say any niceties. They immediately went to prices so I hung up. Second place was more of the same and the third place asked me how I was doing and if I wanted to share anything about him. So I went with them. My dad didn’t leave a will so I had to pull the trigger on weather to cremate or bury. I went with the former and was sick for months thinking I made the wrong choice but one day a few months ago my mom found a random letter he wrote, tossed behind his living room chair, where he noted cremation was a better option bc of the $ and finally that guilt left me.

Did you know that when you list you’re an organ donor on your license, they have to call the family? And when they call, there is light elevator music playing in the background, and mere hours after your person dies, a woman with a nasally voice will calmly ask, “May we take his skin and eyes?” I felt like I was in a cronenberg movie. I remember being so shocked at the matter of factness of the question. Being disturbed but thankful neither my mom or sister were doing this part. I remember saying “why would you want that, do you know how he died? How are those parts even usable” and she paused . And “hmm’d” and as she began to speak I said “no we won’t be donating”.

Anyways. I’m trying to be present while I’m here in Ireland for the holidays. I want to cry but I can’t. This is the last time Christmas will feel like Christmas. I’ve never much liked the holiday. But after my dad died I’ve hated thanksgiving and Christmas even more. Being with my grandma here in Ireland makes it feel like that “magic” is still there a little. But I know it will be completely gone by this time next year and I hate that.

I also worry bout my mom and how she’s taking it. She lost her dad in 2023, her husband in 2024 and now her mom’s dying. That’s how it goes I guess. I stayed in tonight but she went out to the pubs with her friends and came home absolutely trashed. She made it up the stairs before I heard her start violently vomiting. It’s always strange when you switch places with your folks. I took off her clothes and got her changed into Pjs. Brought her water and crackers. She laid with her head in my lap as I stared at the wall. Being around this kind of stuff always makes me wonder if I’ll regret not having kids. Like the fact that when I’m her age, and my grandmas age, I’ll effectively be alone. Like yes there are friends etc but I won’t have children or grand children. Just makes me feel weird.

Anyways now it’s 6 in the morning and I’m going on a run in the 22 degree morning air. Bye bye.

#grief #journal #life #I feel stuck in my head bc I don’t talk to my new bf about this #like he knows the gist #but every time he learns a new piece of trauma about me he is shocked #and sometimes I lol in my head like wow you haven’t even scratched the surface #he knows about my OD and my dad #but he doesn’t know about .. so many other things #I wish he was more obsessed with me or visa versa #I’m still trying to figure this shit out #he is a horrible texter #we’re supposed to FaceTime while I’m here but I’m going to let him initiate #isnt it crazy how we seek out partners to just fill this childhood void #I do so much work in therapy to fill this hole in myself #yet still at the end of the day I want a man to be obsessed with me so I can feel whole lmao #even tho I KNOW now that won’t fix me #I still want it #he’s the first man I’ve dated that isn’t obsessed with me and he’s weird #not that those relationships were ever healthy #but he likes me in a very normal way #and all I can think is #sir I have men in my DMs asking if they can pay me to #clean my house in lingerie #I need you to text me back or tell me you think I’m hot #I can count on one hand the number of times he has complimented my #physical appearance #and that drives me insane #why am #I even ranting this part here lmao

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