#i really like the ones with the tiny diamonds the band ones im not a big fan of huge stones

[softshuji]

You're not going to see him again

-Koko

You don't know that. And I don't even mean, as friends or as lovers, or whatever we were, but....do you really think he would have just given up on what he wanted just because I wasn't with him anymore? He'll come to finish his job at some point, you know this.

[enhastolemyheart]

after effect — LEE HEESEUNG

nsfw content minors dni.

pairing | fiancé heeseung x fem!reader

genre | engaged couple, fluff, smut

synopsis | the morning after night full of love with your newly engaged fiancé.

warnings | profanity, p in v, reader being addressed with multiple petnames, suggestive content so read at your own discretion, hee and reader are 24 only cus it would be better for visualization purposes but u can imagine whatever, proofread but lmk if any mistakes.

word count | 1.2k+

note — italics are flashbacks.

a/n | blue shirt hee really did something to me saur, im posting my first ever suggestive/smut fic! I did not think at all that my first smut post would be for heeseung but, here we are! reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated! Hope you guys like it and lmk if you want fics like these from me! I'm also not tryna sexualise heeseung in a way, this is strictly for entertainment purposes. Enjoy!!

You wake up to the harsh sunlight that was beaming through your bedroom window, usually they are closed at night so you think it was you newly engaged fiancé that had opened the blinds, letting the light in. The event of last night flash through your mind once you see they way your discarded clothes are sprawled around the room.

You get out of bed, picking up the blue shirt near the doorway before putting it on. Looking in the mirror before making your way out of the room. Once you're downstairs, you look for Heeseung, who was on the living room couch with his phone in his hand, scrolling. He was shirtless, looking so hot and turning you on, only a pair of black sweats covering him.

Feeling a little confident, you sway your hips more prominently as you descend down the stairs, lowering the collar line of the shirt to show your chest more, barely covering anything at this point. Just as you reach the last step, he senses your presence and looks up. The face he makes, makes you want to seduce him right now. He looks at you with sparkles in his eyes, a light smirk playing on his lips as he watches you sway side to side. He bites his lower lip as he puts his phone aside, spreading his legs a bit more as you stand in front of him, a smile on you your face.

"Hi." you greet.

He placing his hands where the joint of your knees are and pulls you towards him, getting seated on his lap. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders and his go around your waist under your dress shirt, lightly caressing the skin there.

"hi," he looks into your eyes before dragging his eyes down to look at what you're wearing, you notice his eyes stay a little longer on your chest before looking back up, "you look very sexy in my shirt."

you giggle as you hold the sides of his jaw in your hands, feeling his hands rub the expanse of your back, "yeah?"

"fuck yeah." he leans in and presses his lip to yours, giving you flashback of last night. The way the both of you were heavily making out, tongues dancing, hands busy with removing each others article. Heeseung gently pushing you onto the bed.

he pulls away and cradles your left hand in his right one, "you look even more sexy with this ring on your finger." you look at the ring he proposed you with, silver band with your birthstone sitting fragilely on top, outlined with tiny diamonds. he takes your hand to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the ring, all while maintaing eye contact with you, "you're fucking mine now, love."

you giggle at his words as you lean close to place a kiss on his lips. he swipes his tongue at your lower lip, accessing entrance to your mouth. his hands make their way down and palms your ass, squeezing the flesh making you moan slightly. the make out starts to turn hot and messy, you pull at his messy hair, knowing he loves that. "fuck y/n..."

you pull away, resting your hands on his chest that's heaving up and down just like yours. The movement causes Heeseung’s eyes trail down to your breasts. He reaches for it but you pull away completely, getting out of his hold. you giggle as he pouts and tails behind you as you make your way to the kitchen. As you're getting a pair of cups to make coffee in, heeseung latches onto you, arms wrapping you middle as he buries he head into your neck, smelling your sweet scent and spreading kisses there.

"mm hee," you whimper when he bites down on your sweet spot.

he hovers over you as he snakes his hand to your behind unceasing your bra with ease, like he was some experienced sex God (even though he was) and all this unravels while his lips are marking your neck, sealing the deal that your forever his. "I love you y/n." He lets out as he interlaced your hands together by your head, thumb stroking the ring.

he surprised you with a picnic at a tiny hill where you first encountered each other. you were with your family on a trek, it was your family's tradition to trek at new places, and recently moving to the town, you just had to check out the new trail. because it was all new, you ended up getting lost and bumped into a man who was a stranger then, he helped you trek back down the mini hill. feeling bold, he asked you for your number and you guys hit it off.

two years of making wholesome moments, laughing, the occasional fights, you were here. with your boyfriend who is now your fiancé, heeseung. you weren't expecting to get proposed at all, you must say heeseung had planned everything very well, the whole proposal went smoothly. going to Heeseung’s house for a mini get together with yours and his parents after.

"fuck oh my god hee..." You moaned out when he discarded your underwear, hands going around your thighs as he marks them as well. he groaned at the smell of your wetness. he took his finger to your lips lightly fidgeting with them to get a reaction out of you. he starts to get painfully hard at your face, the way you're so sexy and your lower lip getting caught between your teeth. he groans. he pulls away from you and takes off his boxers, letting his member free. he smirks when he sees your eyes widened at his size, this is not the first time yet, you always feel like it is. it always does. he leans back down, immediately diving to taste your pussy. you elicit a loud moan at the contact, hands immediately reaching for your finacè's hair. and he devours you like a man who hadn't eaten a meal in days.

"hee, fuck I need you so bad," heeseung has been at your neck and your breasts how god knows how long, the thought of having coffee together long forgotten.

"let me make you feel good princess." He spurs as he puts you the island, unbuttoning your shirt but leaving it on your shoulders, "fuck y/n, you're getting me so hard you know that.."

you couldn't help but giggle and you pull at the drawstrings of his sweats, letting it fall down, revealing his red and hot member.

"please hee," you grips at his neck pulling his close, placing a kiss on his lips, "make me feel good."

"fuck yeah I will," He pushes your panties aside and slowly pushes his dick inside your heat. he pauses when you clench, "fuck baby if you keep clenching like that, I won't be able go deeper. relax, will you?"

you nod and try to relax, he helps by placing kisses all over your face. and once your state is normal, he bottoms out, "ready?" He places a stray hair behind you ear, one arm going around your waist.

"yeah hee, fuck me." The way his eyes darken, hazed with lust, let's you know that you are in for a long ride, with your fiancé.

a/n | thank you sm for reading!! feel free to share and idea if you'd like! requests are open and so is the taglist!! And I'll see you in the next one!

perm taglist: @jak-ey , @snoowhore , @hsheart , @hsgwrld (bold can't be tagged; send an ask to be added)

PEACE AND LOVE <;33

© ENHASTOLEMYHEART ON TUMBLR, 2023 — do not translate, copy, modify, or repost any of my works as your own in any platform or form of use.

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ Between Glitz and Glamour ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: love collects like the number of pearls on a string – scintillant under the shining spotlight, two ends clasped together to make one. however, one unforeseen tug can scatter the pearls, making them roll, bounce, and clack against the illegally sticky floors of the speakeasy. but one can’t help but chase the jewels, especially the one carved in the shape of lee jihoon.

member: lee jihoon

genre: angst, drama, romance, 1920s period piece | smut

tags: cursing, drunk characters, emotional constipation, food/drinks, jealousy, opposites attract, smoking, s2l // sax, settlements, and speakeasies | blindfold play, fingering, lap dances, mirror sex, oral, overstim, pet names (baby, daddy, whore...), pnv, pussy slapping, squirting...

wc: 15k

beta reader reviews: "OKAY DADDY I'M NOT GOING TO FIGHT YOU" - @multi-kpop-fanfics // "GODDDD I can't do this" - @heartkyeom // "HAHAHHAHAA FUCK IM IN TROUBLE" - @playmetheclassics

a/n: hihi you may see some recognizable characters sprinkled throughout the fic (hint @onlymingyus's duo). and giving a hugehugehuge thank you to my beta readers. this is a big piece I've been writing for months so thank you so much <33 chapters are separated and named by seasons for easy navigation - nu ♡

himbocoups's masterlist

one - spring

Sleek oiled hair with expensive Brilliantine and the tiny stray strand that falls from the slick that brushes against his forehead, the man’s Adam’s apple bobs and lowers as the man swallows another sip of his Manhattan. An amber drop seeps from his lips, seesawing on the rim of the stemmed cocktail glass he holds steady against his lips before racing downwards against the outside of the glass. He sets his drink on the sticky Oak tabletop before the drop of liquid can collect on his finger, never once breaking eye contact with his spoil for the night.

Dark brown eyes quickly flick from the woman’s eyes to his pant leg that rests against her inner heel, brushing against the open skin like a curtain as she unconsciously shifts her balance to her tiny kitten heel. She traces a manicured finger over his exposed collarbone, letting her hand glide downwards until it rests on his chest. Dorothy, she reminds him of her name, like the one from the novel. But he hasn’t read a novel since grade school, let alone hold one in his hand. He deceivingly nods like he understands her reference. Truthfully, he can’t even hear her over the live band and tonight’s drunk rowdy crowd in his speakeasy.

The Diamond Glass – an ironic name given the speakeasy’s connotations. Hidden in plain sight in the heart of the city, the speakeasy isn’t as transparent as the name suggests. And Lee Jihoon – as cunning as his cat-like features – operates his mom and pop grocery store front during the day and his speakeasy during the night, strictly and smoothly running his businesses like the automated belts in Ford’s motor car factories. A mastermind with too much money to blow and a throttle of criminal cohorts he calls his family, the man can’t help but let loose once in a while, especially when it comes to taking someone new home every so often.

And Dorothy, beautiful feathered brooch-wearing Dorothy with big brown eyes and arched eyebrows, is someone who Jihoon is willing to take home…or even in the kitchen pantry if he kicks the cooks out. But a disapproving look from his younger sister from across the bar is enough to give him second thoughts about taking her old classmate from high school home or anywhere, really. He clears his throat, two rough coughs with his hand brought up to his mouth, and peers at the woman in front of him. She doesn’t seem phased by the little break in their interaction and moves in to leave him a tiny product-stained peck along his jawline.

This action alone is enough to have him immediately forget about his sister’s disapproving looks and pull the lady into him by her waist, a tiny oop emitting from her matte-colored lips.

“Darling,” The word rolls smoothly off the tip of his tongue, landing softly against her cheek.

Before he can make another move on Dorothy, he feels a soft tap against the outside of his heel. And before he can even make the decision to ignore the tap, he hears the ever-so-familiar sound of shattering glass against his beloved speakeasy floors from across the room. The figure of a darting bouncer toward the center of the crowd and the manager, Seungcheol, following closely behind is enough for Jihoon to excuse himself from the self-proclaimed novel character Dorothy to attend to a crowd transforming into the shape of a circle.

He sees her for the first time in his life with her dirtied flimsy party dress, and the skirt under her knees, as she reaches around blindly for something probably important to her. There are a few clutched in her right hand, opalescent pearls, probably fake; her other hand is limp, tucked against her waist as if she doesn’t want anybody to notice her injury. He thinks if he turns his head back to Dorothy, he would be able to become ignorant of the fact that there’s shattered glass near the back of her heels, the same glass that he brought in the other day.

An entire five cents gone, just like that. He is forced to think, adding a note to his mental managerial book.

Mingyu probably kicked the man out, he hears a patron say to another person who asked. The man tried absinthe for the first time. Now he’s absent before the pianist can perform his set. Poor lady…poor lonely lady with her fine pearls. Heard that was the only drink she was clutching onto the whole night before the man knocked her over. Never seen her around before.

“Hey.” Seungcheol taps his boss’s shoulder, the other hand pinching the bridge of his nose in an act of annoyance. “Take her to get patched up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he scowls. “Manage your patrons better.”

Still, he shuffles over to his customer and lifts her up by the waist, heaving her onto the nearest bar counter, probably separating two people from their conversation. He doesn’t care if they complain, for all he cares, they already paid for their drinks.

“You didn’t have to set me on the counter,” she says while fiddling with the fabric of her dress, her eyes never looking down to meet his. “Just a scratch on my hand, that’s all.”

Someone passes him a bag of ice wrapped in a dishcloth. The bartender probably, she remembers. She remembered him complaining in passing about how it gets so rowdy in this speakeasy, yet they can never find the time to restock their simplest first aid supplies. Something about how the big boss is stingy, but he can’t complain because he’s getting paid well.

The palm which holds her injured hand is warm and a little rough around the tiny calluses, a stark contrast to the cold ice which hits her outer hand and the soft and regularly washed dishcloth which creates a nice barrier to stop the coldness from stinging.

“The fabric isn’t flimsy, you know. It just looks that way because of how I draped it.” The comment comes out of her mouth compulsively, as if she needed to somehow bring up the topic in case he was staying silent because he was silently judging her getup. She can’t read him well, not under the lights and not even when his eyes flick to every other woman except for her. “I can ice it myself.”

“Nonsense.” He is curt with his words. “This shouldn’t have happened to you. My workers should’ve been better at watching out for rowdy customers. Please accept my apology on their behalf. Write down your bank account number, and I’ll pay for your dry-cleaning and for a new string of pearls.”

She thinks that maybe he isn’t as stingy as Joshua says or alternatively, maybe he can say those things simply because he’s wealthy. Either way, Lee Jihoon is just as handsome as the crowd says. It would be such a loss if she didn’t use this chance to strike up a conversation with him. For all that matters, he would be onto the next gal the moment he’s finished taking care of her.  

“Take me on a date,” she squeaks, heart pounding like footsteps on the pavement. “The pearls are fake, an-and I can clean the dress myself.”

“I don’t do dates, princess.”

“Then a non-date? With me.” This time, there is a bit more confidence in her tone. But it isn’t enough to shake him.

“Look.” He sighs and drops the melting ice bag onto the counter near her thigh. “You look like you’ve never stepped into a speakeasy before. You probably came here on a dare with one of your girlfriends from grade school, talking about how you need to step out of your comfort zone a little more and is now all balled up. I’m a criminal – dames like you should never be stuck on my bunch.”

“Then I’m a criminal for coming here voluntarily. Aren’t I?”

two - summer

Standing ovation.

He didn’t even know that a standing ovation could happen at a community theatre performance, but here he is, standing on the risers after the final Summer show, waiting for the second lead to finish talking to an important-looking man in fine business attire.

In his arms is a beautiful assembly of white and purple, a small handwritten card from the heart tucked in the middle of it all. This is the first time he attended a musical, and this is the first time he willingly attended anything for anybody outside of his family. Now he’s worried his sweaty palms left damp marks against the brown paper packaging of the bouquet he shopped for with his sister last night.

A couple of children’s costumes push against his backside while they run down the risers, but he doesn’t care. His eyes are trained on her – a light brown wig done in a giant updo with a giant white feathered attachment stuck at the very top and rosy floral clips trailing down the sides. Her stage makeup sparkles under the hot stage lights, a scintillant glow across the apples of her cheeks. She quickly maneuvers her flowers to one arm so she can reach her free hand out to receive the man’s business card. She thanks him as he walks away, leaving her in the middle of the stage, giggly and filled with glee. With brilliant white teeth and lips stretched thin, she practically bounces in her spot until she pauses for a minute, turning around to look for something or someone so important that she would rather share her happiness with them.

Maybe there is a part of him that wants to call out for her, for her to notice him then, and for her to notice him when he was in the crowd. He wants to convince himself that it shouldn’t be him who she’s looking for. But it’s not like Lee Jihoon would ever admit his feelings, not even months after spending time now and then with the tailoress who crawled on the dirty and sticky speakeasy floor to pick up her fake pearls.

God, her and her pearls, he thinks. There was no way he could ever end up with someone like her, practically floating around with her head in the clouds, dreaming about the day she would become a star. Too trusting of others, too gullible, too into him – he wonders why he would even allow himself to be cajoled into attending a stupid production by someone as idiosyncratic as her.

The tight grip around the metal rail loosens when she makes eye contact with him, eyes widening like her smile. And as vague as it sounds, it makes him feel lighter. Better even.

Noticing her friends crowd around her, he mouths “hallway” to her and slips into the darkness. He thinks it’s in his best interest if he doesn’t check to see if her eyes stayed trained on him when he left his place on the risers.

It’s not long until someone grabs his wrist guiding him along the hallway, past the green room, past the rest of the cast. Left behind in her wake is a trail of African Orange Flowers, Amalfi Lemon and Orange, and the powdery floral scent of the powder she uses to refresh her clothes. Coty’s Cyphre, the one she bought back in ’17 – her only perfume that she uses for special events. The liquid in the whimsical rectangular glass bottle that sits on top of her dresser is starting to turn a light amber hue, but she insists on saving each drop. It’s most condensed on the hand pulling his wrist, the same hand that slips downwards, interlocking both hands in a magnetic pull.

Finally seeing her up close, her big doe eyes staring at him and the meticulously swept-on stage makeup, he forgets he has flowers for her in his hands. He snaps out of his trance when he hears the soft muted crinkling of the brown paper packaging being removed from his arms. She stands in front of him in her empty dressing room, holding the bouquet like a newborn, and lowering her head to smell the flowers – eyes closed to breathe in the sweet floral scent deeply with a sigh.

“I uhh.” He quickly brings his right fist up to his mouth and clears his throat. “I liked the performance. It was nice.” He can’t look her in the eye – doesn’t even know what to say especially now that her dress’s strap slipped off her shoulder, bringing her collarbone into view. She must think he’s the daftest person in the world, and he almost crumbles at the thought of her seeing him through his hubris.

“What about me?” She blinks. Dropping her flowers on the counter where the wood meets a long wall of mirrors, she tests the waters by slowly crossing his threshold. One buttermilk-colored gloved hand glazes his tweed vest, but of course, she can never elicit a reaction from him. “What did you think about me?” She asks him, palm now fully against his vest.

If it were physically possible, Jihoon stutters without muttering a word – caught red-handed by the woman in front of him. Truth be told, he wasn’t really paying attention to the musical. Falling asleep during the last half of the first act and waking up when the orchestra started the entr’acte, he knew he should’ve stayed home after an especially rowdy night at the Diamond Glass. And he would have if it weren’t for his sister, who quite literally dragged him out of bed and kicked him to the curb.

I really don’t get why she likes you even though you’ve been dragging her along for around two months. You don’t even seem that interested in her, she told her older brother. So either end the situationship or make it a relationship. But after the musical! So don’t you dare come back until tomorrow morning…Seokmin’s coming over. 

But what does he think about her? What does he think about the woman in the bouncy polka-dot dress whose entire being is too utterly obsessed with him, the one who only talks about her dreams while floating on her imaginary clouds, the one who buys cheap costume jewelry whenever she can hoping one day she would trade her precious pearl necklace for a new one? The one whose lips he has to cover while in bed because her vocal cords aren’t the only things that he’s plugging.

Simply put, he thinks her to be annoying. They have almost nothing in common. He cannot stand the fact that she’s so dizzyingly ditzy that she cannot go a day without dreaming or talking about the glitz and glamour of her potential stardom, living in a constant state of hypotheticals. She somehow latched onto his side like a cat’s claw in a woolen sweater or a parasite who is too cheerful and optimistic even on bad days. Yet, despite everything, he doesn’t mind having her by his side.

“Come on Hoonie,” she whines. “Tell me.”

God, how he hates that nickname. Usually, he would tell her off for using that nickname but she’s a couple of centimeters away from completely pressing herself against his frontside, and the only thing he can concentrate on is definitely not her performance.

But it doesn’t matter anyway. While a celebration happens on the main stage, in an empty dressing room, two people try to devour each other like it is the last time they would ever meet. A few fallen stray petals crumple under the sole of his shoe as he rubs himself between her closed legs. Groaning as he feels her squeeze him between her bare thighs, sliding with ease as her warm juices lubricate his naked organ, he covers her mouth from behind as he slowly pushes himself into her.

And everything feels warm, hot – clothed bodies pressed against each other, the row of bright lights above the wall of vanity mirrors, her breath as she moans into his large palm over her mouth, and her spongy inside that often invites him in secret. The habitually voluble woman is reduced to nothing under his touch and tries to refrain from audibly moaning, knowing that she would be punished if she were loud.

So she finds something exciting in whimpering into the open air, feeling him twitch inside of her with every mewl that enters his ear as he slowly fucks himself into her. The more high-pitched she gets, the more it arouses him to the point where he completely loses his nonchalant front. The hand which once covered her mouth is now tilting her chin upwards as his other hand grabs her by her waist. And he watches through the mirror how her eyes roll upward as he ruts himself into her, smirking at how she melts against his chest, aching and begging him for more.

That isn’t to say that maybe the thought of how good the reflection of the two of them together looks crossed his mind once or twice. But he pushes the thought aside like the rest of his feelings for her and instead pushes deeper into her, moaning when he feels her convulse around him.

“Ah fuck babe,” she gasps while her knees bend towards each other, palms pressed against the mirror as she recovers from her high.

“Watch your language,” he instinctively mumbles, pushing her forward so that her elbows rest on the vanity. He lifts the hem of her skirt above her ass, bunching the costume fabric in his hand and laying it on top of her back. Her use of his pet name completely slips his mind as he sighs while slipping back inside of her, feeling the tight cushiony cunt squeeze around his cock. Any tighter he might have to fuck her on the floor to stop losing feeling in his legs.

The louder the party is downstairs, the more confident she is in moaning out loud. And the sounds coming from her mouth fuels his lust. His cock feels hard as hell, and he is so close to finishing. A trail of profanities rains from his mouth, praising her, commanding her, and telling her how he feels at this moment. And she smiles that lazy smile reflected in the mirror as she hiccups while the tip of his organ threatens to penetrate more than just her walls.

“Be mine, yeah?” She manages to ask him while he pulls her head back, her fake pearl necklace coming into view.

“You’re asking? Fuck. Okay fu-Jesus. Bend over. M-more for me, baby. More.”

With one easy yank, the brown wig slides off her head and collects in his fist. He thinks nothing of it and drops it on the floor next to a pile of fallen audition flyers, continuing to ram into her from behind, never missing a beat. Jostled around with each hard thrust, each remaining bobby pin that once held her wig in place fall to the floor one after the other.

Plink. Puh-link. Plink. 

The answer to her original question is still left unanswered.

three - summer

“So, when is your girlfriend coming?”

Lee Jihoon looks up from the several small plates of food in front of him to see his younger sister cocking an eyebrow at him before she looks at the spread of food he prepares. Quick to notice the slight pout of her lips and the soft twitch of her eyebrows, he knows a light-hearted complaint is about to come out of her mouth.

“It’s a double date, but you’re only serving us canapés. What do you want me to do? Starve?” She places a hand on her hip in disbelief.

“I never said it was a double date,” he corrects her while swatting one of her hands away from the deviled eggs, never batting an eye. “I only said we are going to taste test new finger foods for the speakeasy.”

“And the girlfriend?” She sneaks a bruschetta from one of the plates when he looks away, dumping the pile of finely diced tomatoes tossed with balsamic vinegar and spices into her mouth before following it with the piece of soggy-crunchy bread she holds. “W- where is sphe?” She asks him with her mouth full, swiping the edge of her mouth with the side of her pointer finger.

“Finishing an audition so she’ll be a bit late,” his tone is as monotonous as ever. He doesn’t pay her any mind, not when he’s stressing over minuscule plates of finger food.

It is a particularly slow Thursday night. The grocery store’s customers start to dwindle as Seokmin helps the remaining customers checkout their items before he can close the shop to restock and sneak his boss’s girlfriend into the speakeasy. And the younger sister who stands in the kitchen behind the speakeasy’s bar can’t help but stare at her older brother who somehow manages to assemble different types of small plates for four people at once. But it’s the fact that no amount of magnesium can fix his almost permanently clenched jaw that she knows something is bothering him.

“Hmm…” She takes his used cutting board and a stack of dirtied plates away from his area to bring to the sink to rinse. “I don’t like it,” she tells him while dropping the stack in the sink, wincing at the crashing sound.

“The bruschetta you stole?” He asks over his shoulder. Albeit, the way his tone angles upwards at the end, a squeak that he tries to hide by clearing his throat, is a clear tell that the quality of the food, or at least something related to tonight, greatly concerns him.

“No. It’s actually really good.” She restacks the dishes in the sink, thinking that it would be better to wash them all at once after dinner. “I was talking about you. Something’s bothering you.”

“You’re bothering me.” He frowns in his spot, bending over to adjust the garnish on one of the plates. “Go bother Seokmin. He’s probably crying while he’s running the grocery store alone without you by his side.”

“He’s a big boy. He can handle it,” she muses, humming while wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“I’m telling you to climb up your thumb.”

“And I’m telling you that you have girl problems.”

Before he can turn around to confront his sister about minding her own business, two familiar voices enter the speakeasy from the hidden hallway connecting the employee room of the grocery store to the speakeasy’s office. Head perking upwards like a sleeping cat when they hear the familiar clinking of keys on a chain when one unlocks the front door, Lee Jihoon’s entire attitude and disposition seem to shift into the positive. And the sister almost snickers at the sight.

---

Clearly less stressed than before, Lee Jihoon still walks around more reserved than usual. He left the small talk to the others and only chimed in when spoken to. But the one hand that found a home around her waist, on her shoulder, in her hand, said something otherwise. And maybe it’s not a lie when others say that being around your favorite person could make all your worries go away. The way that his tiny fangs come into view when she gushes about her audition, the unnoticeable squeeze he gives her hand when she talks about calling off sick for work in order to practice for the audition, and the blush on top of his already flushed face when she tells the other couple that she couldn’t have done it without him by her side…it did make his worries go away, at least for the time being.

Two hours later, the siblings are once again in the speakeasy’s kitchen, cleaning the used and empty dishes while the other two chat away near the stage where they plan for a duet in the future. There is an empty bottle of homemade red wine left to dry next to the dish rack. He sits by himself on the stool near the sink, holding a half-filled wine glass in one hand, promising to finish off the rest of the bottle by himself before his team comes in to open the speakeasy within the next hour.

“Hey, be honest. What’s eating yo-”

“She told me she loved me this morning.” He cuts off his sister’s question while staring at his sorry expression through the soft reflection against the burgundy-red liquid.

“Oh…OH?” She doubles back.

“I wasn’t able to reciprocate it,” he sighs. “It came out of nowhere.”

There isn’t anywhere to sit so she decides to squat next to him, taking the glass out of his hands so she can finish it for him. Of course, she would be worried about the man who never seemed to be able to keep a relationship or even enter one look so distraught over a quip in his relationship. Finding out it was about the question of love, she can’t help but pry more out of him, never experiencing this kind of talk with her older brother in the past. But when she sees his eyes squint at the hem of her everyday dress draped across the dirty kitchen placemats and him immediately getting up from his stool so she could sit, she knows that he would be fine.  

“What’s next? Do you think you’ll have to break up with her?” She tries to push his buttons.

“No.” He hears the familiar tuning note in the distance, echoing throughout the empty speakeasy. “Maybe I would be able to reciprocate it someday,” he mumbles while scratching the side of his head.

She chugs the rest of the wine, earning a disapproving look from her older brother, and rinses the glass in the sink.

“I think I’ll have my gentleman walk me home now…leave you to work.”

He takes her glass out of the sink and immediately washes it again, not trusting that she could truly clean it in her inebriated state.

“Make sure he gives you his jacket. It’s starting to get chilly outside.”

“How can it be chilly? It’s only the beginning of Summer.”

“Also, don’t walk. Take my breezer keys from my office drawer,” he tells her while she hugs him goodbye. “And tell him to drop her off, yeah? She must be tired.”

“From the audition?”

“Yeah…the audition.”

“Are you sure you don’t love her?” She squeezes his shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it, okay?”

“I-” He looks like he is about to say something but drops the notion. “Get home safe.”

It comes out like a sigh – a dilatory action to avoid her question. 

four - summer

There are only a few ways to command a room in a crowded speakeasy on an especially sweltering hot July Summer night. And only a few can truly get the room to become so quiet that everybody inside can hear conversations outside of the sturdy soundproof walls of the speakeasy.

She stands onstage next to one of the lead singers of the week. Seungkwan, the lead’s name, tries to pry open the newspaper to the right page but struggles to find any grip between the smooth-printed paper and his dry fingertips. The action causes the crowd to groan, but a singular and sharp shh sound emitted from the speakeasy’s owner’s mouth at the back of the crowd causes the entire crowd to acquiesce and grow silent again.

Seungkwan swipes the tip of his pointer finger across his tongue and rubs the wetness against his thumb. The younger man smiles when he finds his grip and immediately flips to the right page, right to the location of the musical advertisement. He shifts his body away from the eager dame, oscillating ball to heel, who is dressed like a patron of the Ritz just for this special occasion. Left pointer finger skimming through the cast members, he skips ahead and heads straight to the ensemble.

From the crowd beneath the stage, one could see the top of the singer’s head, eyebrows, and a pair of eyes right above the top of the newspaper. The man on the stage holds the newspaper to the crowd, showing them the content like a schoolteacher reading to their class.

“Ensemble!” he yells. “And the understudy for the lead!”

The ebullient cheers that follow the announcement fill the speakeasy – a newfound cause for celebration. A regular in this establishment is about to star in a mainstream musical and they are all about to get bragging rights. And the dame whose name is printed on thousands of newspapers stands on stage, quite clearly in shock. Lace-gloved hands covering her mouth and the recovered fake pearl necklace hanging from her neck, she can only allow tears of joy, of jubilation, to fill a reservoir in her eyes. Months of hard work, hours upon hours of practice, sore muscles, and a dream to work toward – there’s a realized catalyst to her belief that nothing that she had worked toward, worked for, and dreamed about had ever gone to waste.

And he, Lee Jihoon, continues to stand in his place at the back of the Diamond Glass, unmoving like the Statue of Liberty. He sees his Ritzy moll under the spotlight, shining, scintillating in all her newfound glory. Where he would usually be focusing on the crowds of men with fat pockets rushing to the bars, he can’t help but keep his eyes on his girlfriend.

His mouth moves on its own. Opening. Tongue touching the back of his front teeth. The last syllable forms a pout. Three words formed without any sound.

The thing is, she sees him. Even from the stage in the front of the room, the only person she can clearly see silently supports her from the back of the crowd. To her, he is, and always will be, her only glowing entity in the pitch dark. And she directs a fabulous smile at him. She knows.  

---

“F-fuck!” Her stomach jolts when she feels his thick fingers exiting her leaking cunt.

“Aww my baby is so vulgar, isn’t she? Wanting to fuck in public while everybody else is getting drunk and celebrating her?”

The owner of the Diamond Glass leans back into the beautiful moss green leather executive chair with the cherry wood elements that his workers gifted him on his past birthday. Spread across his matching cherry wood desk are the gams belonging to the woman the entire speakeasy is celebrating. And the new musical actress shudders at the feeling of her naked and throbbing core against the cold office air while she lies with her back against the desk, dress pulled up and bunched around her breasts. And he smirks in his seat, his left hand moving to his neck to loosen his necktie while his right hand reaches into his desk drawer to draw out a long wooden object. 

“Left or right hand, baby?” He asks her while palming himself in his seat, his zipper already down and his erection dripping with precum.

“L-Left,” she stutters while staring at the ceiling, heart beating fast.

“Left what?” He spreads his thighs a little more, relaxing into his seat while he slowly strokes himself to the fleshy sight in front of his face.

“Daddy,” she chokes, her back arching off the wooden surface, fake pearl necklace clacking against the desk, her wanting to feel anything and to be given anything by the man who sits behind his desk.

He moves the oblong object into his left hand and rubs the precum off his head with the pad of his right thumb. Like a painter branding their work of art, Jihoon marks her soft nub with his precum, smearing it on her as if he is marking his territory. And she moans from his touch, every inch of her body prickling with heat.

Thinking for a couple of seconds while stroking himself with his right hand, he finally decides, “We’re not leaving this room until we see your pretty pussy squirt on daddy. Hold still for me Sweetheart.”

With no time for her to react, he brings the object down on her opening, fast. The slapping sound of the wooden ruler against her fragile clit rings throughout the room – threatening to drown out the sounds of people partying on the other side of the guarded door. The euphonic sound of her squealing, the way her thighs close and immediately open like the whore she is, only edges him more.

He slaps her pussy again, bringing down the makeshift paddle quickly. Then again. And again.

She cries in response, tears leaking down the sides of her face as she calls out to him Daddy, daddy, yes! Daddy – s-shit. Please! More! Use me. Withering in her spot, she feels nothing but the euphoria and the stinging sensation that makes her sex clench, builds her high, and causes her eyes to roll to the back of her head. And he relishes in watching and hearing her positively react, feeling his high build in the palms of his hands.

However, like the businessman he is, he thinks what is in front of him is not enough. So he drags his heavy seat closer to his desk till his face is directly in front of her cunt when he is seated. And he knows that he didn’t take that much time to adjust his seat, but her fingers are already dipping into her sopping cunt without permission – a dainty middle finger slowly and repetitively entering her sex and pulling out while she sighs in relief.

Irritated by her actions, he uses his precious ruler to nudge her hand away from her cunt. He drops his ruler on his desk and immediately, by bringing his empty hand against her cunt and feeling her jolt under his fingers, pulls his hand back to slap her again.

“Whore.”

This single word leaves his mouth, laced with disgust. But it causes her to reach her high, her body jolting as she comes. He uses this moment to put his face against her cunt, burying his tongue in her folds, licking and prodding while his strong hands grab hold of her thighs to steady her while she shakes against the tabletop. He lets himself be buried in her cunt, pushing his nose against her nub and lapping her juices like it’s his only source of water. Teasing her with the tip of his tongue, he kitten licks her cunt until she shakes under his hands and sends a long and flat stripe up her folds.

Overstimulated by him eating her out while she orgasms, by him punishing her by sticking his tongue up her vagina, all she can do is slur her cries – so, so, so entirely intoxicated by him against her sex. And the frail cry turns into a scream when he pulls out his tongue and slaps her one last time – the sharp pain against her bodily exhaustion causes her to squirt, wave after wave, coating his unbuttoned button down and lubricating his open and exposed chest.   

Her high blinds her so much that the can only see the deep red marks his fingers left on the outside of her thighs and the splotchy purple along her inner thighs when she recovers in the morning.

And the poor part-time bouncer, the law student with the circular glasses, can only keep a stoic face as he stands on the other side of the door. Because he knows that if he even reacts, even hints to others why he is guarding the office door, he would suffer a fate a lot worse than being fired from his boss’s precious speakeasy.

five - fall

He arrives home at around two in the morning and finally gets to enter the comfort of his bed at around three. The girlfriend who was lying in bed awake, waiting for her boyfriend to come home, is now completely lost as to why her sweetheart would even start an argument with her saying that she should have gone to bed without him. For months now, all she wanted was communication from someone who loves knowing everything and every single detail about everybody around him, but she can never seem to scratch more than his surface-level answers. And everything she does at that moment, including being awake for him, seems to tick him off even more than it should. And she is frustrated, not knowing what to do or how to confront him.

“You’re upset,” she points out.

“I’m not upset,” he retaliates, his tone a lot harsher than how he meant it to sound.

“You didn’t call me ‘Babe.’ You didn’t greet me when you came home.” She sits up from her side in his bed, the bedsheets falling just below her neckline. She hugs the sheets tightly to her chest. “You’re clearly upset.”

Truth be told, Lee Jihoon is definitely upset. They are in the middle of their first mini-argument, but it is hard to even begin a full-fledged fight when one side is extremely talkative and open about their feelings while the other side is the polar opposite. And the polar opposite in this situation only wants to sleep in his king-sized bed, too tired to even talk to her. Because in his heart, he knows that he would accidentally take his frustrations built from an amalgamation of happenings out on her through his language, and he knows that the only way to avoid that outcome is to avoid her altogether.

Continuing to look at his ceiling, he stubbornly ignores the woman he holds so precious to his heart, thinking that it would be better that way.

“Lee Jihoon,” she says his full name. “Talk to me. Why won’t you talk to me?”

Muscles tense under his blanket when he hears his name, and he stiffens in his place in bed. He can feel her getting more upset with every second he spends ignoring her – but it’s not like she isn’t used to him ignoring her. That’s how their relationship started anyway.

He knows he could just tell her. He knows he doesn’t even need to look her in the eyes to talk to her, to tell her how much of a bad day he has had. Just a couple minutes explaining how he is upset because the police stopped his men from unloading the grocery stock truck when they mistook the contents of the truck for alcohol, how the police almost found out about the speakeasy, how Seokmin proposed to his sister without his permission, and how he punched Seokmin would have been enough to put the both of them at ease.

But he is as hardheaded as they come, and he doesn’t have an answer for her – he doesn’t know why he won’t share his feelings with her.

A scintillant flash glimmers at the corner of his eye, and his bedroom is much too dark for any regular object to be shining so brightly. So he turns his head toward the object only when it catches his eye another time.

Lo and behold are two brilliant diamonds sitting proudly on her earlobes. And for a man who has seen all of his girlfriend, he has never seen them before – no matter how small they are.

“What are those?” he asks her, sitting up to get a better look at the earrings. And he frowns when he sees something prominent missing from her neck. “Where’s your pearl necklace?”

“Tossed it,” she answers a little too nonchalantly for his liking – as if the necklace that she always wore around her neck as a reminder that she would make it big and replace it with a chain of real pearls someday meant absolutely nothing to her.

“What?” His mouth is agape. His stubborn demeanor attenuates while his curiosity slowly appears.

He thinks that she’s joking – playing a little prank on him. But when he sees her staring at her manicured fingertips, pushing back her cuticles with her thumb, he can only accept the fact that she may not be joking. And it stings him a little because of the number of times she firmly turned his offer to buy her a piece of jewelry – a pearl necklace – as a gift, taking umbrage at his thoughtful request.

“Oh, Hoonie. I know you’re about to lecture me about sticking to my dreams. But I got my first big paycheck from the musical, and I saw how glittery and beautiful the diamond earrings looked at Tiffany’s in the department store so I had to buy them.”

Suddenly, his skin under his latest sleepwear under his heavy duvet blanket feels unbearably hot. He feels agitated by her actions even though it doesn’t pertain to him at all. And even more so, he finds himself furrowing his eyebrows at the way she shifted from being upset with him not wanting to talk to her to suddenly forgetting about her anger just because of some real diamonds from the cheapest section. The thought of everything upsets his stomach and makes his jaw clench so hard that one accidental budge could grind his molars flat.

He knows that he can be a bit of an ass all the time and that before he took their relationship seriously he was still flirting with other women while she stupidly latched onto his arm in his speakeasy. He hates hearing his workers tease him about becoming the type of man who would finally settle down with a lovely dame. Nevertheless, her name used to only form from his lips, while they now form from the innermost portion of his heart. And still spends nights wondering how the hell someone like him can manage to fall in love with someone like her – especially the “live in the moment” type of person.  

“Aww,” she whines while shaking his right arm. “I know you’re doing your dumb calculations in your head. It’s fine. I still have leftover money from when I worked two jobs.” She pauses and continues in a sultry voice, holding his right hand in one hand while she tiptoes her fingers along his bicep, “And, I also had enough money left over from this shopping spree to make another purchase.”

She moves before he can ignore her out of spite, letting her bedsheets fall to the mattress as she stands on her knees. Under the yellow light emitting from the art deco nickel-plated lamp from Jihoon’s bedside is a silhouette, a shadow of her figure, cast against the wall. Milk yellow satin bows that sit on top of her shoulders keep her chemise from falling. And the lingerie itself, a square neckline lined with thin hand-embroidered lace, cinches at the waist and drops downwards in a pillowy-soft see-through fabric. The same thin hand-embroidered lace forms garters around her thighs, holding up knee-high socks with tiny bows sewn in the front.

“You don’t want this?” She teases him by letting go of his hand to trace a finger along her neckline.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, holding out his right hand for her to take again. “Of course I want you. Let me take care of you tonight.”

“No, Love.” She crawls over to him, moving her right thigh over his legs until she straddles his hips. Griding down on him, she places her hands around his neck. “Let me.”

Not able to keep his cool-headed persona, his head tips backward so a soft moan can naturally escape his lips. On his lap is the weight of her entire body – random atoms bundled so tightly, creating cells, creating organs, creating and completing the love of his life. He misses her pearls, the stupid piece of cheap jewelry that tarnishes with every scratch against hard surfaces – like his skin when her nails dig into them, leaving bright and stinging red trenches masked by the fire he feels at his core.

The love of his life on top of him, feeling and teasing herself, calling herself names that may never leave the bedroom…he almost wants to bend her over the bathroom sink to wash her mouth, scrub it raw, and peck the pouty lips and then the eyelids where her lashes tickle his bottom lip. Reveling in his private lap dance as much as a man can at half-past three in the morning, he can only stare at her with so much love that the feeling alone sucks and strips away the color in the life around him. And when his mouth is stuffed with her soaked undergarment and she reaches for his pants, he knows he is done for.

Bedsheet roughly thrown to the side, and the weight of its fall knocks over today’s unread paper placed towards the edge of the nightstand. The paper falls to the floor along with the bedsheet and opens to the entertainment page. Leading Lady FIRED, the headline reads. A summary of the contents is as follows: leading lady was fired because she was caught auditioning for another role while she was supposed to be at practice for her current musical, her no-name understudy will take over her role for the rest of the season, and critics hypothesize either the birth of a new shining star or the failure of an entire production caused by a chain of events.

six - fall

A giant star follows the signature that finishes with a flourish, etched with the black expensive ink from the solid gold Sheaffer “Propel – Repel – Expel” Pencil from the Giftie Set that is supposed to come out at the end of October for this upcoming holiday season. The owner of the receipt that is now etched with the signature of someone famous thanks the musical actress again – still trying to fathom how such a famous actress shops at the same local grocery store as she does – before leaving through the front door.

Chic coffee-colored suede fabric of the light long coat in Philippe et Gaston’s winter collection – not yet released and imported straight from Paris – flows and flaps against the current that rushes in when the patron with the signature leaves the grocery store. Once again, the coat peacefully settles right above her calves when the wind breaks its trail. The actress tucks her pen back in its leather case where the second pair of the Giftie Set is missing – in fact, the matching retractable fountain pen rests in the lapel of the grocery store owner’s coat at all times. She drops the case in her black clutch and snaps it close. Old cut, 0.40-carat yellow and platinum diamonds – two of them in oval drops – collect and accentuate the front of her open collar, gifted by her loving boyfriend. They sparkle against the afternoon sunlight that shines through the shop’s open windows, glimmering and glistening like the love they are meant to represent.

The understudy-turned-leading lady adjusts how her white cloche hat sits on top of her head before turning to look at Seungcheol who leans against the wall behind the cashier counter, furiously whispering into the telephone. It seems as if he doesn’t want to be disturbed, or even be acknowledged. He quickly hangs up the phone and rushes through the backdoor, straight to his boss’s office.

The second owner of the store, the sister, recommends the newspaper with the musical reviews to a customer. There’s a sly smile on her face, the hidden excitement of knowing that the actress whose glowing musical reviews in the newspaper is only a few feet away. Still, she maintains her polite and professional front.

Softly humming to herself while walking around the store, the actress thinks about the items she wants to pick up for her new agent before she meets him for the first time at the radio station. She settles on a soft drink for him and water, no, tea for herself before going to the counter where her fake sister-in-law waits.

“You waiting for Hoon?” the younger one asks while grabbing a brown paper bag from under the counter.

“Yeah,” she sighs while unclasping her bag so she can reach in to grab her coin pouch. “I was supposed to remind him about the radio show today, but he left the house in a rush. I rang him a few times, but I couldn’t even reach him.” She shakes her head while unzipping her coin pouch with her gloved hands.

The cashier tsks and pushes the outstretched hand with the coins away, “Just take the bag. You know my brother will come for my head if he finds out you visited and paid for something. How can I wear a veil during my wedding if I don’t have a head?”

“And you know it hurts my dignity knowing that I can afford at least two drinks,” she pushes back. “Plus, Seokmin would love you even without that pretty head of yours.”

“Take the bag, and bunk off. Dingus,” she mutters, her cadence eerily mirroring that of her brother’s.

“Don’t call her a Dingus.” Jihoon’s voice appears out of nowhere. He finishes tying his apron around his back before shoving his sister to the side. “Only I can call her Dingus.”

“Nobody can call me a Dingus,” the girlfriend remarks and proceeds to drop her coins in the tip jar before taking her bag of drinks from the counter. “Flag me a cab, yeah? I came to remind you about today’s show.”

Immediately acquiescing to her request, he nods his head and quickly scrambles to meet her on the other side. He grabs the paper bag from her arms, afraid that it may be too heavy for her, and guides her to the front of the store. From there, he brings his thumb and pointer finger together and puts them between his lips, whistling loudly to flag a cab.

“Today at three,” he smiles at her. “I didn’t forget.”

A cab pulls to the curb before he can strike up a conversation with her, and he has no choice but to help her in the cab and hand the paper bag back to its owner. And it hurts him a little more when the cab driver drives off before he can kiss her on the cheek. But watching her head pop out of the window while the cab drives away and that big smile of hers coupled with a waving hand, he can’t help but feel like the luckiest man on this Earth.

---

“You closed the shop early and demanded us to come in not for training but because of your girlfriend?” Chan, the part-time bouncer slowly asks as if he is trying to understand his boss’s thought process. “Hoonie wants us to help him get a radio shout-out from his kitten? Meow?”

Mingyu immediately tosses the student over his shoulder and heads over to the speakeasy before Jihoon can physically lunge at his worker. Seungcheol, who may be the only employee who can physically restrain the man without getting fired, lets go of Jihoon when Mingyu and Chan are finally gone.

“Anybody who stays for the entire duration gets a bonus,” Jihoon growls while straightening his collar.

The rest of the group nods and mumble among themselves as their boss adjusts the radio they have all crowded around to the correct frequency. Instantaneously, a familiar laugh fills the tense atmosphere and eases everybody it reaches.

Wow. I can’t believe both of you knew what you wanted to be and where you wanted to go since you were kids, the radio host recounts. Your parents must be so proud.

They are. A masculine voice – the seasoned musical lead. They have a collection of posters from all of the musicals I’ve been in…signed by the cast and everything. They’re so special to me.

That’s so sweet of them to do so, the host responds. Speaking of special people, and I’m pretty sure everybody tuning in wants to know, does our leading lady currently have someone special?

Jihoon’s ears perk up when he hears the question and immediately glow bright red when he notices several pairs of eyes trained on him. He shoots a glare at his crowd before awkwardly adjusting in his seat while he waits for his beloved to respond.

Oh, me? She giggles. I’m happily single.

And the answer shocks everybody – the grocery store becomes so quiet that you can only hear the hums emitting from the refrigerators.

So you’re saying if you’re single and your handsome co is also single, the host presses, then that means there’s a chance that the two of you could possibly become a couple by the end of your season?

Laughter – hearty guffaws from the radio and small awkward hiccups on the other end of the radio.

I mean, the host recounts, word on the street is that there are quite a few kiss scenes in this musical. Not to mention the chemistry the two of you share on stage and off stage. No wonder it’s so popular!

The door to Jihoon’s office slams shut, echoing throughout the establishment. It is only then that the employees of the Diamond Glass finally notice that their boss has angrily left the scene.

seven - fall

Holding her jaw open with one hand, Jihoon bends over and watches his spit fall onto her awaiting tongue, how the liquid bubbles and collapses against the papillae of the muscular organ. Once he shuts her mouth, his hand moves back to her throat where he can clearly feel the way her Adam’s apple bobs against the palm of his hand when she swallows his spit.

Every time he squeezes her esophagus, her velvet walls clench and flutter around his cock while she prays and begs him to take off her blindfold.

But he doesn’t respond. Even when he hears her beg, her: Daddy, Daddy, please. Please take off my blindfold so I can be a proper slut, so you can ruin my pussy. Use me, please. He doesn’t budge. Not today.

Tonight, Lee Jihoon is not taking any requests: he only has one goal on mind.

He has her body memorized – the familiar feeling of hitting the exact spongy part to cause her to orgasm, how much pressure the rough pads of his fingertips must exert on her clit. He rolls his hips for her to take him in deeper until his throbbing tip reaches an end, and he extracts himself and thrusts inwards without pause. The hand around her neck loosens and travels downwards towards her breasts, cupping, squeezing, and pinching the nipples until they turn into sore and hard little nubs. He massages them and watches how they fill the gaps between his fingers with every rough squeeze.

She’s as loud as ever. Back arching, she begs her boyfriend to make her feel good instead of playing with her. She’s already tired of being used despite her excessive begging.

As much as he knows exactly how to make her come undone, he knows exactly the steps he has to take to make himself feel good in her. And he grabs both thighs, pushing them back and spreading them wide to give himself a better angle. Roughly, he rocks his hips into her tight little pussy with so much force that it sends her sliding a few inches backward, the bed creaking.

“Oh- FUCK!” she gasps.

Thrusting aggressively, he bites his bottom lip while he stares at the headboard ahead of him. His fingers dig deep into her thighs and she struggles to moan as her entire body jostles up and down in repeated motions. Everything comes out in segments.

He fucks her roughly and without any ounce of kindness. And when her pussy could clamp around his cock just a few moments ago, it fails to hold on the more she becomes his personal fucktoy instead of his girlfriend. She’s confused and horny, her pussy feeling sore yet amazing while being ripped apart by his thick and veiny cock; he’s close to his release.

The thing is, she’s not even close to coming when his hips jerk and buck in place before he finishes in her. He silently pulls out, rolls off his condom, ties it, and tosses it in the trash can while leaving her in bed. He doesn’t even give her a second glance when he tells her he is headed for the roof.

“What the fuck,” she mutters under her breath while she plants her feet against the mattress. She rips the blindfold off her face and decides that if he’s not going to help her finish, she would do it herself.

If he doesn’t need her, then she sure as hell doesn’t need him.

---

She watches him from the door to the roof as he inhales and lets the pillowy smoke flow out of his mouth. It’s interesting to her how the length of a couple of days can turn two people, as close as they are, into complete strangers. And she is lost as to how such a loving man, no matter how cold he may seem to those who aren’t acquainted with him, could ever act as if his love for her somehow became conditional. 

People say that love can keep people even in the coldest and darkest places warm. Maybe she does believe it to be true, but now, staring at the man she loves the most from a few feet away, the warmth feels more like a memory than a presence. Midnight air nips at her skin, raising goosebumps and causing her arm hairs to stand straight, while he looks blissful or at least contented to be alone with his pack of cigarettes. She doesn’t even know that he had a pack on him. 

People also say that love can make you become either really brave or really dumb, but that’s like comparing apples to oranges. Even she is confused about whether or not confronting him at the top of his brownstone tonight is the bravest or dumbest thing she can do. But her actions happen before she can really register what is it that she wants from him. 

“Is this about me not kissing you before I got into the cab the other day?” Okay, at least it comes off as a passive joke to hide her anger. “It’s because we were in public.”

“Since when have you ever cared about kissing in public?” he gruffs, making it a point to turn his body away from hers. 

His irritable attitude towards her makes her tick. And she scoffs, “Stop bullshitting me, Jihoon. If you miss a kiss, then you can make up for it later on. And I did.” She marches towards the side he is facing and leans against the half-wall balcony. “Remember how we promised to always be open about what’s bothering us? Like the night where I bought the diamond earrings and you were pissed about the engagement?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault.” He rolls his eyes. His temper isn’t the best either. 

“When the fuck did I say it’s your fault?”

“Watch your mouth,” he mutters. 

“Watch my mouth?” she criticizes his hypocrisy. “You won’t even open your mouth to tell me about what’s bothering you. What am I? Some sort of scapegoat for your anger?”

“My anger?” he asks, pointing at himself with the hand that holds his cigarette between his knuckles. His question is rhetorical as well as the answer, but his ego refuses to accept the fact that she isn’t wrong. 

“Yes, your anger,” her voice suddenly calmed. “Please work with me here. Can’t you see I’m trying to solve whatever this is between us? Is it because of Jeonghan’s comment? About how he heard about the unscripted kiss during one of our scenes?”

“So it was real,” he scoffs, turning his head to look at the view ahead of him. He wishes that the soft breeze which tickles and ruffles the tops of the several rows of trees below him can also whisk him away from this conversation. 

“Acting, Jihoon. It was just us acting.” She can’t believe the productive conversation she imagined having with his is taking a turn for the worst. 

“Why don’t you just date him instead because, apparently, I’m not your boyfriend anymore.” His retort is unfairly childish, but it implies some of his underlying concerns are slowly making their way to his surface. His mouth tastes dry and the warm and fuzzy high he felt before she disturbed his peace is already gone. He taps the ashes away against the brick edge before bringing the bud to his lips again. 

“Is this what was bothering you the whole time? The scripted radio show?” She sighs and brings her hand up to her temple to pinch and rub away the pain. Instead, she only feels a swelling sensation form and collects in the inner corners of her eyes. “It was the first time I met this new agent. And I had to listen to him because of his experience in the industry. He said that revealing our relationship might ruin my career, especially taking into consideration how hard I’ve worked for it. So I couldn’t discuss the boyfriend thing with you ahead of time because it was sprung on me the minute I sat down with him.” 

To her side is a man who had grown accustomed to having a cup of tea every morning instead of his usual cup of coffee after learning that his girlfriend doesn’t drink coffee. A man who regularly keeps his kitchen shelves stocked with various teas around the world as his way of saying how much he loves her, he could help but appease his curiosity as to what some measly leaves could offer to a person. The difference in caffeine made him feel a bit woozy at first, a remarkable We should call you Woozi with an I from the way you keep slipping in and out of consciousness from the one called Vernon. But now, he finds pleasure in walking around with a white mug, the tea bag’s string expertly looped twice around the top of the mug’s handle, tucked between his knuckles and mug.  

She knows how much of an asshole he can be, how hard it is for him to physically say “I love you” when others are around, and how he finds it challenging to even begin to open up and talk about his problems. But it may be her greatest downfall, believing that she could completely change a man whose flaws drew her in like a moth towards an open flame.

“I hate it when you smoke,” her voice quivers. She feels small next to the well-built man beside her, but she doesn’t know whether or not she should continue to try to reason with a brick wall. “It’s bad for my lungs.”

The thing is, Lee Jihoon is a good listener. Probably trained by his sister after taking care of her by himself for so many years, his listening skills make up for his lack of good communication skills. And he snuffs his half-burned cigarette against the brick edge, tossing it to the floor of the roof and rendering it destroyed with the heel of his shoe.

When he wraps her in his arms as a way of saying Sorry, I was in the wrong, she notices how cold he must be feeling. His cold skin immediately burns hot the moment it comes into contact with hers.

“I’m sorry. Don’t cry.” His apology is muffled against her strands of hair. “I really do love you.”

“Do you think we’ll be fine?” She asks him. It’s more of a need for confirmation – the reason for confirmation is murky.

“I don’t know.�� His heart feels like it’s beating harder than usual, and he’s pretty sure she can also feel it. “I’ll try.”

Jealousy is a vile disease that can overtake and completely alter a person. And she realizes that the man who usually instills jealousy in those around him is also capable of being infected.

eight - winter

Tonight’s drink of choice is his usual Manhattan poured into a whiskey glass and garnished with a fresh slice of lemon instead of his usual olive, cherry, or lemon peel twist. However, it sits untouched on a handmade coaster on the desk in its owner’s office while the owner is nowhere to be found. Condensation on the outside surface of the glass pools at the bottom of the circular glass, held together in a ring thanks to cohesion forces. The cubed block of ice that sat in the middle of the sink now floats to the top in a sort of watery layer just above the alcohol. Pitch-black is what describes the office – nobody would even know Lee Jihoon considered drinking alcohol tonight, let alone visited his office.

Joshua thinks his boss is probably in his office calculating the cost of each ounce of alcohol against the recipe for every drink, knowing how stingy he can be. He also notices the lack of a cheerful presence that makes his boss’s ears flush bright red. But he doesn’t say anything about it, after all, bartenders are always here for the gossip but never participate in spreading gossip.

Jihoon sits in the dark of his grocery store near the entrance where the porch light shines brightly through the glass windows. His shoulder blades, especially the upper area towards the middle of his neck and shoulders, are screaming in pain. And the empty crate he uses as a stool is anything but comfortable.

It’s not a particularly big grocery store. It’s more like a rectangular hole-in-the-wall about the size of the speakeasy's kitchen. There are open crates of neatly stacked fruits and vegetables in front of the counters for customers to choose themselves while all of the other goods are behind the counters. Where walls of groceries line the four walls and the walking space is only large enough to have five different customers comfortably shop at once, Jihoon feels that the tiny front for his speakeasy becomes his sort of personal sanctuary. His sister is barely at home now that she’s in the process of moving most of her stuff to Seokmin’s place, and the tiny changes he made around the house to accommodate his girlfriend remind him too much of her. His office is much too cold and stress-inducing to be in alone during Winter. And the speakeasy is noisy and rowdy where his presence only instills fear in others or causes him to be whisked away in some conversation he doesn’t want to take part in.

So sitting in the only place he can seem to find comfort may be the only way he can truly accept the fact that in the ninth month of getting to know the woman with the big dreams and fake pearls, she is slowly becoming a stranger to him as he is to her.

A single kiss, a peck on the cheek is what she would leave him with before parting every time he dropped her off at the backdoor of the matinee. Now she has a private chauffeur who picks her and her agent up to bring them to wherever her schedule needs her to appear. And it tore out a piece of his heart when she told him that it was for the best especially when she started developing a strong hatred towards speakeasies. In fact, most of their more recent fights were about his job and how she can’t be around people who are associated with something so illegal and vile.

For two people who spent the majority of the year together, each recent meeting feels like an awkward exchange between two people whose lives are moving ahead with barely any space for the other to exist. Where one is preparing for the end of her musical run and the new musical production she’s been cast in, the other one is busy switching seasonal grocery stock and preparing his speakeasy for a VIP. She’s been on more fake dates in a week with her co-star in an industry-fueled scheme to generate more revenue before the musical run ends than she has in a month with her real boyfriend. Even the thrill of sneaking around with each other seemed to have worn off.

One is a woman who came from nothing and now has everything she ever wanted and wants more. The other is a man who came from something and is content with what he has.

Perhaps the thing he most wants is to understand her just a little more. He doesn’t understand the new words and phrases she integrated into her daily jargon and wonders about what or how she thinks of him now that she is on the way to having everything she ever wanted. It’s not like he wants more, no. He’s truly content with what he has. But he can’t help but wonder if love is just the beautiful landscape she spends some time driving through on her road to the glitz and glamour of stardom. If he is simply a backdrop, then why did she even want to pursue him in the first place? Why did he allow himself to fall in love? Why was she so adamant about picking up all of her phony loose pearls when she doesn’t care about buying real ones anymore?

Jihoon knows that life is as fragile as the soft waxy pear he holds in his hand – how a fruit could be so delicate to the touch, but farmers still swatch on a layer of protective wax to keep it from getting bruised and dehydrated with hopes that the fruit would journey safely into somebody’s grocery bag. One single and firm squeeze of the fruit in his palm could turn it into mush and have the juice drip down his fist in globs. Driving a single stomp through the barrel of neatly stacked pears would not save them from becoming absolutely demolished. Protective wax does nothing. Trying to protect himself from getting hurt like that thin coat of fruit wax does absolutely nothing as long as he is in love. And love may just as well be something as fragile as life.

Hand reaching for nothing and hitting the inside of an empty crate, Jihoon quickly retracts his hand while feeling a bit embarrassed for not noticing that he’s done stocking the pears. Having nothing to do causes a wave of loneliness, no, nostalgia to wash over him like the moonlight over the tumbling ocean waves. The fact that she brings up the fact that he owns a speakeasy every time they argue is frequent enough that the thought always lingers at the back of his mind. He can’t comprehend how she somehow started hating speakeasies almost overnight and hates the fact that he is the owner of one. She tells him that it would be better if he left the speakeasy to Seungcheol to manage the grocery store full-time. Looking at everything around him from the walls of products to the shiny wooden floors to the long flowerbeds placed against the walls of windows, he doesn’t know if he could ever give up the speakeasy to work at a place he loves so dearly. Maybe one day in the future when the Prohibition gets lifted, he would turn the speakeasy into something else.

Right now, he is not willing to give up something that he loves. The Diamond Glass is his home, and his employees are his family members. Giving up something as precious as his speakeasy is not something that he would even consider putting on his bargaining table even if it means losing the love of his life. Unwillingness to give up on something he loves for someone whom he loves results in him thinking about the version of his love in the darkness of the grocery store. The version of her with the flimsy dress, the version of her as a fling, the version of her he was afraid to love, the version of her as his love, the version of her he is growing apart from – he thinks about them all. Imagining an alternate universe where she is as unchanging as he is, a version where they can wake up in bed together only to laze around till four in the afternoon – it might be a selfish concept, he thinks. Previously uninhabited space in his brain, now filled with her to the brim, he’s not strong enough for it to spill over until it empties.

A flood of light washes into the grocery store at an angle when the employee door behind the counter opens. Choi Seungcheol stands at its opening with an unsmiling look on his face. Jihoon looks back at the older man, pausing before he sighs and wipes his hands on his pants.

“They’re in your office,” Seungcheol tells his boss.

“Who the hell let them in here?” Jihoon sighs while standing up, stretching his back before heading towards where his employee stands. It doesn’t take many contexts to fully understand what Seungcheol meant when he used the pronoun. Even more so, Jihoon immediately deduced the topic of the incoming conversation and the approximate amount of time the less-than-amicable conversation would take.

“I dunno,” the older man shrugs. “It’s not like we can turn them away. We do need business with them.”

nine - winter

Bursting through the office door and swinging the door open with so much force that the door ricochets off the wooden doorstop and wobbles while being supported by its hinges, she stomps with a fury unmatched by no other. In her wake are a scorching fire and the apologetic part-time bouncer who tried his best to stop her without ever laying a hand on her.

“I-I’m sorry. I tried,” the bouncer with the circular glasses tries to explain himself to his boss. “I-I told her that today’s not a good day, and that you’re-”

“I’m going to make you develop a complex,” the boss seethes through his teeth without moving his mouth to attempt a straight and dignified-looking expression in her presence. Capping his solid gold Sheaffer pen from the old gift set, dropping the expensive item on his stack of papers, and leaning back in his office chair with an annoyed expression on his face is more than enough to send bouncer out the door, scrambling and slamming the door shut behind him.

Jihoon doesn’t respond to his girlfriend, though he makes sure to look at her, studying her smudged stage makeup and the new expensive decoration that hangs from her neck. Silence between the couple becomes a waiting game, a game that anticipates the drop of a guillotine strong enough to cut the tension developed. Pulling the lever, she slices through and continues the journey she embarked on since her last show.

“Lee Jihoon,” his name cracks like a lightning strike – powerful yet lonely – emitted from her atmosphere. “How could you?”

Outside the guarded office door, the VIP speakeasy crowd roars in laughter and cheers. Glasses clink and specially ordered wooden chairs scrape against the sticky floors while speakeasy singers entertain their audience for the night. If Lee Jihoon is the owner and boss of this establishment, then the middle-aged woman who sits at the circular mini table right in front of the stage is the king.

This middle-aged woman with a kind face whose deep smile lines appear when she smiles at others in her acknowledgment is the sole supplier of the Diamond Glass’s alcohol. One misstep, one thought of collusion against her, one simple miscalculation on proposals can erase the Diamond Glass from existence including its workers, leaving the local police with a cold case unsolved for years because they would have nothing, to begin with. Hoping to never upset the king before the Prohibition ends, Lee Jihoon will do anything to maintain his healthy and trustworthy relationship with her and her cohort.

Right now, with her in his office, there is so much more than just simply trying to be business partners with the speakeasy’s current private clients. Because of this, agitation is what makes his leg shake. Fear is what causes him to snap at his girlfriend. Ultimately, this sparks a negative chain reaction foreseeable by anybody since the beginning of Autumn.

Get out are the only two words he can manage to snap at her. His right pointer finger pointed at his office door and his right arm trembles in its extension. Himself, the man sitting in his office chair, feels nothing but anger and fear from seeing his girlfriend in a place in which she should not be seen – a place she upbraided and proclaimed to be untenable in its legality.

“How could you?” she asks again in an accusing tone, her hands forming into tight balls of fists so that her knuckles visibly pale. “You liar. You promised you would be there for my last show. Why weren’t you there? You have so many employees working for you, and you’re not even out there. You’re just sitting in your office doing something you can do another time. Everybody’s partners were there for them at the afterparty yet I rushed here.”

Jihoon sits up from his seat, folding his hands on his desk. He takes a good look at the musical actress in front of him – prim and proper looking, her hair styled in neat curls, and the elegant and flowy black Lanvin Robe de Style which he finds to indicate she took time to change out of her costume into something non-inconspicuous. Paris’s House of Creed’s Angélique Encens set to be released in the early 1930s floats around her like a thin veil of mist. The sensual powdery-floral cut by the salty ambergris beautifully blended with vanilla and tuberose was said to be a pre-release gift from the founder of the perfume house. He thinks about the time when she accidentally dropped the perfume bottle she bought back in ’17 on her wooden floors. She thought nothing of the accident – no indication of dejection while picking up the broken pieces of glass and causally mentioned the perfume incident in an interview. The next day, a fresh bottle and a bouquet of roses were gifted to her from the perfumery. He’s not sure if the new bottle ever made it out of her closet. He’s not the type to compare himself to others – no, his confidence and self-assurance are too high for that – but he can’t help but wonder whether or not he can say her name the way he used to.

When you love someone, a name isn’t formed from the mouth but from the heart. The image of her in his head, once formed and sculpted from his skinny love, still exists in his hippocampus. Happiness when he sees her, the rush of dopamine when he feels her fall asleep again him after a long day, never originated from the limbic cortex. Fully believing it, even now at this moment despite the circumstances, he believes it was passed to him by her. Where her name is formed from his heart, she is his entire heart. And it hurts him to even consider the fact that she he holds close to his heart may just as well walk away with a piece of him that would never be returned.

It is the last time he says her name from his heart. He tells her to leave, that it’s not safe. He doesn’t want his bodyguards to ever lay a hand on her. It’s for the best, he tells her. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. He’s afraid of the fact that literal gangsters in the building would scare her, and he’s not about to compromise her integrity. For her sake, he feels that keeping the fact to himself, letting her walk over him if she has to, may keep her safe.

“But there’s no tomorrow,” she almost wails, stomping her feet even. She’s frustrated that she had to attend the party celebrating the end of the season alone, frustrated over his stolid attitude over everything. She just wishes he could’ve been there with her experiencing one of the most important moments of her life.

Shooting out of his chair, sending it backward from the force with which he pulls himself up, he slams his hands on his desk. “Leave,” he yells at her.

“Choose,” she lays down her ultimatum for him. “Me or the speakeasy.”

“Diamond Glass,” he chooses without hesitation. Albeit, the expression he notices form on her face causes him to feel restive in his response. “Me or your fake boyfriend?”

“Fake boyfriend?” She feels her skin prick with coldness. “Do you have to bring him up every time we get into an argument?”

“What?” The tone of his voice is anything but amicable. “So you’re only here to argue with me for a little bit before you storm off to your little boy toy. What happened to compromise? What happened to me being the most important person in your life?”

“Compromise?” She seethes. “I literally told you that my new agent sprung it upon me when I met him.”

“The easiest phrase you can say as an actress is ‘no comment.’ Or are you so far up your ass and your glitz and glamour that all you can do is be hotsy-totsy with all the men around you? Do you even think about me? Or do I only appear in your mind when you need me?”

“So what about me living the life I always wanted? So what if I have to fake date rich men while keeping this persona they built for me? Men, any men, regular men, rich men, they can all get in and out of relationships and marriages whenever they please and they wouldn’t be shamed for it. They can marry whenever and whoever they please and not be looked down upon. This includes you, Jihoon,” her voice dips when she says his name. There is a crack in her voice that Jihoon absolutely hates hearing because it means anything but her happiness. “All they want women to do is marry and have kids. But I get to escape that expectation because of my job. The leading lady was fired because she auditioned for another job. So what if the world found out that the understudy had a boyfriend? I would be a joke. I would be forced out of the industry, blacklisted for not taking my job seriously.”

“Why do you care so much about what other people think?” He almost wants to shout at her, to hurl his chair against the wall. “Given my connections, you would never be forced out of the industry.”

“You don’t get it do you?” Her knees buckle. “I never wanted to rely on you.”

“Then what did you want me for?” He can’t contain himself anymore. He shouts at her in frustration. “A good fuck? A summer fling? Someone to fix because your life was so boring before me?”

“I just wanted you by my side,” she shouts back.

“And I was always by your side.” He’s so frustrated that tears well up in the inner corners of his eyes. “I was always by your side even when I wasn’t in love with you. I was by your side this whole time even if you never felt it. I was by your side even when I didn’t understand. When I didn’t understand why you loved me. When I didn’t understand the words that came out of your mouth. When I didn’t understand why you don’t even look at me the way you used to.”

“And what was the way I used to-” She cuts herself off, stopping so she can point her head to the ceiling so that he doesn’t have to look at her sob. “Fuck.” The realization slaps her in the face.

“Shit,” Jihoon has no choice but to cuss. His face stabs with pain, and his arms feel numb. But heaping globs of tears stream down his face, and he breaks down on his spot – choked sobs and trembling shoulders, unable to look her in the eye. He also realizes the same thing – she doesn’t love him anymore.

Lee Jihoon doesn’t remember how he ended up in the middle of the VIP party’s crowd, drunk off of giggle water. Tonight, he can’t even bring himself to flirt with the woman who he plants himself behind, bringing her ass to his dick while she grinds on him on the dance floor. Everything feels so foreign to him – letting go, straying from his usual Manhattan, people prying him off of someone new, crying, being single, sobbing, crashing on someone’s couch, blacking out. He doesn’t know who he is or where he is. The only thing he remembers is seeing a piece of his heart leave when she left him in his office and the realization that they are no more.

Not even a sense of familiarity can rush over his inebriated self when he feels a heavy blanket cover his shivering body. Seungcheol, no; his sister, no; Seokmin…the king? He can’t quite differentiate whose couch it is that he is laying on or who it is who is consoling him.

“We can never go back to who we were before love,” the unidentified voice reassures him. “After love, we are just as different. But it takes time to create a better us than who we were when we were in love. After all, time and feelings change. You have loved yourself before, Jihoon. And you will love yourself again.”  

“Feel broken,” he manages to slur through his tears. He hasn’t stopped crying since being dragged out of the speakeasy “Gone.”

“But it doesn’t mean you can’t find yourself in the future.”

epilogue - spring '39

Lee Jihoon carries a toddler in his arm, someone whose eyes curl the same way he does when he smiles. He hands him an apple, a gorgeous waxy Red Delicious that is arguably too big for the toddler’s hands.

“Hold tight,” Jihoon tells the child. “Or it would fall and roll away. Then we can’t sell the apple.”

But the fruit immediately falls from the toddler’s hands, bouncing and rolling towards the other side of the newly renovated grocery store.

After all these years, the mom-and-pop grocery store manned by the Diamond Glass’s workers and families still stands proudly while facing the busy street before it. And the Diamond Glass, converted into a bar, has since made a name for itself after the Prohibition. The establishment with its criminal origins, instead of deterring people away, only attracts and appeals to the public.

The bell above the front door clanks when a new customer steps inside. And the quick burst of air caused by the act of opening the door drowns out what the new customer says to their driver.

In the meantime, Jihoon sighs and looks at the child in his arms – the kid whose lips quiver from making a mistake. He decides to let him go and squats to tell him that his mom would send him into exile if he ever made him cry. “Even worse,” he whispers to the child, “Seokmin would cry if he ever saw you cry. And you know how much your dad cries. But go get Uncle Seungcheol for me. We need more people in the front.”

A few minutes after the boss feels a gentle tap on his right shoulder. But he chooses to ignore them and instead calls for Seungcheol to help with the customer. He feels the tap again, this time with a little more pressure. So he turns his head from his stack of apples on the ground, looking up at the customer standing behind him.

She holds the dusty and bruised apple in her outstretched hand. And he notices the freshly coated swatch of lacquer that decorates her nails. His eyes trace up her gams to her tweed Chanel skirt and the matching blazer which sculpts her shoulders. In contrast to her expensive designer wear is the scuffed and faded pearl necklace which sits proudly around her neck – a contrasting centerpiece to her outfit. And he can tell that they’re fake, just like the ones that scattered and clacked against his once illegally sticky speakeasy floors.

Seungcheol’s head pops from the doorframe to the employee door behind the grocery store counter. “Who is it?” he asks his boss.

Jihoon looks at her in her eyes, the same pair of twinkling eyes he could never forget, and answers his question, “An old friend.”

Copyright © 2023 Himbocoups. All rights reserved.

[duchezss]

My favorite details/moments from Trolls Band Together because I have a problem.

Lemme just get this out of the way and say the soundtrack is a certified banger oh my god.

When brozone tries and hits the perfect family harmony the first time the colors that they get outlined in are all separate, the three colors don't blend at all.

Just Floyd comforting Branch....😭 😭

Branch's little hops when him and Floyd were talking about the bunker WAHHHH.

The real emotions of Branch missing his brothers while simultaneously not wanting to see them like???

"There goes my back" when JD was throwing Branch LMAOO.

The entire design of Mount Rageous is so whimsical and gorgeous I'm in love.

When the whole screen shakes when JD hits the counter eh oh el.

"If there was a brother I'd do this for...I'd be Floyd" WAHHHH.

The old MTV style music video Watch Me Work has.

Floyd singing with the posters of brozone floating around 😭

"Tiny, Poppy, Branch, and this random dude" I SPIT OUT MY DRINK LMAO.

"Are you a narc?" OH I LOST IT IM SO DEAD.

All of Branch's old hairstyles being references to Justin Timberlake's real hairstyles.

"Poppy seed" awwwww.

Branch's little "yay" is so cute.

The ongoing ring pop joke is actually so funny I'm sorry.

The way Bruce and JD just throw Branch on command.

Bruce still being considered the heart throb even though he's got a dad bod, a wife, and children 😭

THE BLEEPED OUT CURSE WORD I WAS IN TEARS.

The amount of songs they fit into Brozone's back is actually impressive, and the way they mesh so well together??? Legitness.

"That's not an idea, those are shoulder pads" I just can't...

When Floyd's hair started turning white and he was going transparent....WAHHH 😭 😭 WHEN I GET YOU VELVET AND VEENER WHEN I GET YOU......(But also the details to show how fast his health was declining? Someone cooked)

Branch's iconic clue board.

Bruce holding tiny diamond since he's also a dad.

Branch trying to be brave and talk to the clown but as soon as Viva came at him he backed up. That's such a real response I love is so much??

Clay's hair being green? Which kinda hints that JD or someone made him dye his hair yellow when he was younger.

Viva calling Clay "Mr. Clay" is actually the cutest thing everrr

Clay and Bruce's handshake, I also kinda like that it implies that they were really close, kinda like how Branch and Floyd were close. I think it really separates JD from them.

Also everyone's reaction to JD being super cold while everyone fawns over Branch.

Clay's so smart 😭 (and autistic) I love him so much.

All the brothers cute dancing in It Takes Two ❤️

The very real response of Viva not wanting to talk about her trauma and also not wanting Poppy to leave.

"I don't wanna lose my brother either" I feel like no one talks about how brave Clay is. He's in the same boat as Viva, he thinks Bergens still attack trolls, and he's going out into the world for the first time in who knows how's long. Just because he wants to help save Floyd, like that's so sweet???

Floyd's dead face was way funnier than it should've been.

"I thought ghosts just floated away" the delivery on this line is unmatched.

Floyd speaking one younger brother to Veener was so 😭, especially cause you know he felt like Veener did when Brozone was still active (on a lesser degree ofc) I can't.

We don't talk enough about how fire all of the choreos are, like they got professional dancers to make these dances, AND YOU CAN TELL OML.

JD's need for perfection constantly getting in the way of the greatness they all could achieve.

Branch being the voice for all younger siblings out there who will never be respected by their families hit me. But I also think there's something to say about the JD's of the world. The older siblings they took charge because they felt they had to. All parties end up getting hurt.

Also Branch actually wanting them to be a family so sweet. It really embodies the naive hope of wanting to stay together that youngest children have, but it's not unattainable. You can still be close with your siblings into adulthood, no matter how much time has passed, and that's what this movie represents as it's core.

"I didn't think we'd both find ourselves tied up on this honeymoon" WHATTTTT.

BRANCH AND FLOYD HUGGING THROUGH THE GLASS WAHHHHHHHH. Also Floyd being the only brother to respect that's he's grown....I just love them so much 😭

The whole interaction of all the brothers reuniting while in the diamonds is so funny for no reason lol.

Viva understanding she was wrong and striving to do better for her sister >>>

BRO THE ENTIRE CLIMAX IS SO GOOD??? THE TENSION?? THE MUSIC??? IT'S JUST PERFECTION. THE SONGS CHOICES WERE SO GOOD, AND THE WAY THEY REARRANGED WATCH ME WORK TO BE SO INTENSE IS BRILLIANT. THE SONG JUST KEEPS BUILDING AND THE STAKES GET HIGHER, IT'S WAY TO GOOD.

"Actually I've got two really brave sisters" When the message of this movie is that found family and blood family are just as important as each other, and that no matter what you get to pick who your family is >>> 😭

When Clay falls hard while in the diamond, Bruce and JD immediately check on him, meanwhile he's just focused on Floyd. The older brotherism... 😭

The message of this movie also being that perfection isn't important, but rather balance, harmony, and communication are key. ❤️

The acapella opening of Better Place....just.....wow.....

Clay's adlibs eating everyone up??? Kid Cudi I was not familiar with your game hold on.....

When they hit the perfect family harmony all their colors start mixing, showing their respect for individualism and also for the group.

The way Floyd eyes light up when they're all singing is just 😭

Branch building the bunker for all of them 💔, Floyd remembering the waterslide, all of them hugging?? Just peak filmmaking idk.

"Jail it is" also apparently someone did the math and in our world the twins would get over 6 life sentences for their crimes hello???

All of the boyband references are so funny idc.

Clay being excited to get to know Branch 😭 also JD reading a book in the back that presumably Clay recommended him?? That's so cute? He's really trying y'all, they're all trying, and that just warms my heart 😭

*NSYNC making their first song in over 20 years for this movie is actually the craziest thing ever I'm obsessed. Also they all designed their little trolls which I think is so cute.

The last songs....just bangers....I can't even, I sound like a broken record, why is every song in this movie so good.

Fav adlibs speedrun (from the last two songs): Floyd little "yeah yeah", Clay's "dohhh, ohhh," one of the nsync members "show the wayyy", Bruce's "so excited", Branch's "ohh" & "ayeee"

The layering when they all sing together is too good. It sounds so gorgeous and if you listen closely you can hear each persons vocals.

Also I just need to talk about the music production and mixing for a second. This movie has three version of Better Place, all of which are unique. The main one is the NSYNC version, which is notable for it's little rap section. The Family Harmony version use's the intro/pre-chorus as the main part of the song. It also lets the song slowly built, and adds instrumentals as the song progresses. The Reunion version doesn't use the intro/pre-chorus, but rather mainly focuses on the chorus. It also uses the bridge from the main song as the post-chorus/refrain. Just a very creative use of the song tbh. Also the instrumental differences between Watch Me Work and Mount Rageous? Like it's the same song, but the way they add more classical elements and more layers to build the tension and the song as a whole?? I have no words. Perfection.

Obsessed with this movie. If you haven't seen it pls go watch it.

[xxx-ang3l-w1th-a-sh0tgun-xxx]

sooo here's a random list of bands/artists i like (and recommend)!!

(and like really awful tiny reviews/general thoughts for each one)

also here's a 🔗playlist i made which includes some of these :)

BIKINI KILL, LE TIGRE AND THE JULIE RUIN (of course) (i love you kathleen hanna😭🫶)

THE SMASHING PUMPKINS - i absolutely love their song "my love is winter"

BABES IN TOYLAND - her VOICEEE ugh I'm in love

NO DOUBT - only just started listening to them. i really like the songs "doormat" and "sunday morning"

GARBAGE - QUEER!!!! (i think that's all i need to say)

RADIOHEAD - crying (i love every radiohead song I've heard and they all make me cry)

MADNESS - big part of my childhood (cuz im british duhhh🇬🇧)

KATY B - that gurl is always on a mission and i love her for that <3

HOLE - don't ask me what my opinion is on courtney love because honestly? i don't even know

X-RAY SPEX - 70s punk band. existed before riot grrrl was a thing, very influential even now

LIMP BIZKIT - nu metal/rap metal - i especially like the albums "significant other" and "chocolate starfish & the hotdog flavoured water"

MITSKI - alternative/indie, SAD MUSIC

SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES - goth/punk, very kewl, first goth(ic?) band i ever listened to

EMILE MOSSERI - his songs are on the "minari" soundtrack - very chill and atmospheric. also sad

DAZEY AND THE SCOUTS - please can they make more music PLEASE

KORN - i love u jonathan davis <3 (also i love ALL their albums and don't care if they had unpopular stuff, i love it regardless)

PINK FLOYD - they never fail to make me feel like I'm levitating. or dying. I'm not even sure

LONDON AFTER MIDNIGHT - so underrated and so incredibly good and UGH the vibes and the atmosphere I LOVE

ALEX G - so traumatisedqueertranskidcore

ADRIANNE LENKER - brb crying

KATE BUSH - brb frolicking in the woods

SIGN CRUSHES MOTORIST - *cries*

KING DIAMOND - SLEEPLESS NIIIIIIGHTS

AMY WINEHOUSE - ily <3

soo yeah! those are just some of the bands/artists i like/listen to currently! :D

[puppet-purgatory]

you won't post 1 headcanon for every puppet. you wont

i WILL. AND i'll do it in chronological order from appearance (more or less). but it will be under a readmore after the first season so i dont interrupt anyones scrollin

The Professor: i think in addition to growing a bit from Dino DNA(tm) he also has feathers now. just some feathers in there with his fur. maybe even molts and is miserable about it

Death: he plays guitar And piano, but just as a hobby. he's like a salaryman who had a garage band as a teenager and never fully gave up on the dream

Propeller: propeller SADSTUCK: i think he legitimately had to go to therapy for the britannica shit that happened. PH feels like it would be that realistic about mental health tbh

Big Pile of Diamonds: his mustache is fake. his greatest secret. his greatest shame.

God: he actually really likes to dance! unfortunately next 2 no one will do it since... The Incident

Train: does he not have a better name... maybe put a mr. in front of there... anyway he feels betrayed by the U.S. since they gave up the train model for highways/interstates and the motorcar industry. gets REALLY heated about it

Mt. Vesuvius: has a bunch of speeches given by famous latin authors and orators memorized, but sometimes he mashes them up without realizing/misattributes which one was written by whom. old man moments

Hatshepsut's Goose: can't remember what their gender was in life. that's fine, they love being a nonbinary icon. AMAB (Assigned Mummy at (em)Balming)

Clipped Coin: dodges the spool's wrath by being unflappable and so down to earth despite his apparent success. truly the king of staying in his own lane

Olympic Torch: hes a cranky piece of shit and only really enjoys sporting competition. he was complaining about being in the group puzzle photo so god just picked him up and he went ffffffffffine. okay. ill smile for 2 seconds

Gay Oars: i think they Also went to therapy, mostly relationship counseling, and now they are back and better than Ever. unbreakable bond. im abt to pen a whole ass comic series about them getting married in purgatory

Policarpa's Spool: still thinks of himself as a spy type, but there's only so much spying he can do in... purgatory. of course, his primary nemesis is the treasure chest.

Lake Donner Snowman: idk if this counts as a headcanon per se but in my very short list where i recast the puppets as famous singers, he is ABSOLUTELY voiced by Weird Al Yankovic.

St. Nick's Wet Bones: sort of taking the whole purgatory thing in stride. he kinda feels like he's in retirement! now he's a minor agent of chaos who's looked after by his darling Pickle Boys

Beast of Gevaudan: i was so sad when the infinitiger wasn't real, i wanted them to have a cooking show together so badly and destroy the horse's self-esteem. i love him. hes so abominably french

Stool of Gold: well-traveled, well-read, literally just as sensible as the Book or the Oars, but finds the chaos entertaining to spectate.

Ziryab's Oud: I think that the puppets have divvied up the whole Wondrium Arena and all have designated Living Areas, and he has a whole dressing room filled with shitty costumes he can't even wear. every time someone knocks he answers like hes on MTV's Cribs.

Bye Bye Brothers: they live in the orchestral pit and treat it like a secret lair. only other Murderer Puppets are allowed in. EXCLUSIVE club

Flower Boat: GNC Icon. this is a flower boat stan account. jenuinely a wholesome, emotional vessel doing their best to pitch in.

Molasses Horse: you can wash him as much as you want, that shit always just comes back somehow. the book theorizes it's psychosomatic at this point, since they're technically only souls at this point.

Tiny Piece of Wheat: bro i bet they went through SUCH phases after finding out about the professor's death. like all five stages of grief and then four more that have not yet been discovered by humans. dw kiddo, u got Grandparents incoming

Emu: the type of guy to fistfight you and then help you up. laid back but ready to throw down at a MOMENT'S notice. has no beef with the Wheat, but generally avoids them to keep from any Upsets.

Treasure Chest: has a little list of get-rick-quick schemes he wants to test, but has no way to in purgatory. he has one braincell bouncing around in his head like the DVD logo

Scabs & Pus: they get to hang out with the Bye Bye Brothers in their little club :) they're gross dudes to look at and be around. but they are ultimately harmless and friendly and just happy to be included.

Book: i love da book. I think he lives in the music library backstage and finds librettos for stageplays/musicals to pitch to the group to put on, as well as produces their little TV shows.

Birch Trees: since they share a root system, they have a telepathic link and communicate without even speaking, which is fucking creepy as hell when one or both of them just start laughing out of nowhere. they probably enjoy acting sinister

Asmodeus: he worked HARD on his song for the show!!!!! i think he's a bit of a ham sometimes when he gets the chance. also his goat head bites literally anything that comes close on reflex.

The Devil: while everything he does is to get souls, it also feels like he wants for positive and is less an Enemy of God and more an Irritating Coworker. in my brain they have a whole Tom and Jerry thing going on.

I don't have anything for the Fake Puppets the Substitute impersonated, but im planning on drawing some infinitiger soon bc he was my fave for sure

The Substitute: this is PURELY crack but i think it would be hilarious if he had voice commands like some tech does. i want him to climb back in the window and ryan just yells XBOX TURN OFF and he vanishes.

Dino Dad/Dinosir: i think even after he gets to the present and learns about all kinds of rocks and gems and crystals he Still just loves a big old rock he can lay on and sun himself with. like a dad and his armchair. doesnt gotta be fancy, just has to be comfy.

Dino Mom/Dinosara: i think she would be REALLY into the fake tv shows the puppets in the Wondrium Arena make. and they'd probably Love to have her as a fan. i think both the professor's parents are Hella popular.

[iwasbored777]

so ur trolls posts got me to watch trolls world tour again. i remembered liking it but i couldnt remember why, but now i know for sure

I FCUKING LOVE TROLLS WORLD TOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!

ALL THE INCREDIBLE WRITERS WERE SECRETLY ON TROLLS 2 !!!!!!’n

I CANT TBINK OF A SINGLE FLAW IN TROLLS WOULD TOUR!!!!!!!

i was NOT expecting a brilliantly written masterpiece about colonialism, but thats what i got, and its going in the greatest of all time hall of fame in my brain forever.

im not gonna sit here and regale you on the message of the movie. they only said fax, no printer, and its an important message to send kids. alot of the messages kids get about races and borders is “we are all the same 😚” but they came in with the “we are NOT the same and that is both good and bad, both exciting and dangerous so you need to be aware of dangerous ideas of “harmony”” and thats so real. kids need to understand differences are OK.

i love how they backed off the “chosen one” vibe poppy had in the first movie and talked about her flaws as a leader. while her stubborness was a good thing in the first movie to contrast branches pessimistic nature, it wouldnt have worked here, and i can see a cheap writer (like m*chael w*ldron) either insisting she gets away with her selfishness and carrying on with the happy ending anyway, or pretending that wasnt a character trait at all (because w*ldron doesnt watch the first movie and writes a sequel anyway)

my favorite scene is the bubble scene and the woods right after they leave funk where branch confronts poppy. do i even need to tell you why?

i just want to mention it because im pretty sure branch sings a cover of “girl crush” by little big town, which is a country band, and branch said he likes country music earlier and that slays. but when poppy comes in, what they sing is definitley not girl crush, and i cant tell if its giving “trolls can mix music” or im completley wrong and its a different song alltogether. but i cant tell if that song is homophobic or is super gay, so if im wrong thats prob for the best.

the only flaw i can think of is the country music, as a midwestern i can confidently say that was an affront to real blue grass country music. i guess born to die “works” but it didnt represent country as well as the other genres did. theres alot of controversy in the country music fandom with alot of singers who sound exactly the same and produced like its a factory line. but even if people still think miranda lambert and carrie underwood arent true country singers, their songs wouldve worked better than born to die. also the country trolls shouldve been on a self sufficient farm instead of the wild west. that wild western jazzy piano and country music isnt the same.

the only bad part about the movie is that it ended and barb ATE. SHE LEFT NO CRUMBS WITH THAT INTRO. send ask.

Lol I love your review. I love Trolls World Tour a lot too and all their other movies. Great stuff.

And yeah I love Poppy and how she can accomplish A LOT but she doesn't make it on her own, she needs character development and help from others just like everyone else. Characters are surprisingly realistic.

Barb really was goat, the best antagonist in the franchise. I love parallels between her and Poppy, how both had different intentions (Poppy wanted to help and Barb wanted to conquer) but Poppy's method was also wrong and both Poppy and Barb and everyone had to make compromises for all tribes to live in harmony because no one has to change their lifestyle for that to happen, all they have to do is accept that they're different and that's perfect. Just be yourself and let others be themselves.

That song in the end (Just Sing) slaps hard (and so does Can't Stop The Feeling btw).

P.S. Tiny Diamond fucking slays 🔥🔥🔥

[likerealpeopledo-on-ao3]

10 Random Lines

Tagged by @codswalloping and @mostlyinthemorning and @cinnaluminum

Rules: pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or three), and share it! Then tag 10 people. 

Such Great Heights

Ah, there’s the brass band and the fire eaters and the acrobats, and it’s all happening right there in the three-ring circus of Patrick’s ribcage. His smile fills the tiny corner of the screen; in his view, he’s just a set of teeth, gleaming at David against the backdrop of his dad’s claustrophobic office. “That’s–I love you, too.”

Unsaid and Done

“Is everything okay? It’s very woodsy out here. You aren’t going to abandon me in the forest because I made you do a dumb exercise, are you?”

“Yes, David, I hope you brought your breadcrumbs. No, of course not. It was good. Not good, but cathartic, I think. Is there a word for the beginning of catharsis?”

“Feeling?” David ventures, fitting himself around Patrick tentatively, and Patrick floods with warmth.

Bean

“You’re not going to try to put me and Patrick in the same bed like we’re the Buckets, are you?”

“From Willy Wonka? With the nightgowns?” It’s a nice mental picture, honestly, his little family nestled together, his golden ticket. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

Designated Survivor - Gilmore Girls

After the minister has gone back into his limousine, Logan turns to Rory, his eyes rimmed red, his hand flat on the small of her back. “I should have just thrown them the Viking funeral. They would have hated that.”

Like Watching Someone Fall-The Mindy Project

It’s easier sometimes, pretending that Ben was delivered by a gossamer white stork and deposited on her doorstep, and that he wasn’t created by two people in love who got really turned on by year end fiscal reports and plastic novelty glasses. Because she’s tied to Ben’s father, irrevocably, whether or not vows were ever said.

Take Me With You

“Two different people are too different.” Mindy scoots down off his desk, where his paperwork is now strewn about, a row of sonogram photos stuck to the small of her back. She’s wearing his favorite skirt of hers, one that buttons down the front, and it deeply suggests doing everything that he just did with her.

Some Days are Diamonds

“The way you look at me—I love the way you look at me. Can you never stop looking at me like that?”

“Well, I love looking at you, so you’re actually doing me the favor.” Patrick swings his legs up onto the bed, angling himself back toward David. He must catch the look in David’s eye or the start of tears because his gaze turns apprehensive. “Hey.”

The More You Know

“Well, this would not be my first poisoning.” Kris Jenner is a bitch, David thinks, but Patrick already knows that story, and it’s hard to forcefully inflict chickenpox on a grown man.

Hook, Line, and Sinker

“You can tell me if you don’t like something, David. I’m not saying you shouldn’t tell me.” Patrick spoke first—his tone was almost flat now—and the pit went positively cavernous. David did not want to be broken up with while wearing the world’s homeliest bondage gear.

i swallow the sound and it swallows me whole

“You know, Patrick’s been singing his whole life, but I don’t think that I ever truly heard his voice until he met David.”

Tagging @distractivate @vivianblakesunrisebay @dinnfameron @wordthieve @alyiswriting @jamilas-pen @im-televisions-moira-rose @tyfinn @rosedavid @rmd-writes and @sullymygoodname!

[lunairesrealm]

4 words, 1 question

feat. diluc, itto, childe, kaeya, ayato

desc. how the genshin men ask you to marry them :)

cw: gn!reader, mentions of proposal, them being soft for you :((, some crying idk if it counts as slight angst but yea, not proofread!

a/n: was gonna make this into some fic solely for ayato but im writing too much for him nowadays LMFAO i need to pay attention to the others too ykyk

reblogs are appreciated!

diluc

Diluc is a rather traditional guy, his proposal simple but heartfelt, just like how he shows his love for you :)) Gets on one knee while taking a night stroll with you on starsnatch cliff, presenting to you a dainty golden ring with a gorgeous gem in the center. It’s honestly really romantic, the cecilias dancing in the grass as the night breeze washes over them, the stars twinkling prettily high up above the clouds, accompanied by the few but endearing proclamations of diluc’s love for you. Kisses you tenderly when you finally say yes, smiles evident on both of your faces, and for the first time in a long time, you see the expression of pure and utter happiness on his face, happy that he now has another person in his life that he holds dear to his heart.

itto

He practiced his proposal at least a hundred times in the mirror, trying to perfect each and every word, but nothing could prepare him for the real deal. Sets up a cute little private table for you and him out in Chinju Forest with the help of his gang members, and it surprisingly turns out pretty romantic. When he finally pops the question though? oh boy. He’s more nervous than usual, constantly fiddling around with the ring in his pocket, and he’s constantly stumbling over his words, trying to force himself to remember what he rehearsed earlier but he just can’t. Improvises and just asks you right then and there, eyes closed and ears red as he holds out a ring with the biggest rhinestone you’ve ever seen in his much bigger hands, making it look tiny. You just grab his face to kiss him, his eyes shooting open in shock and a blush as red as his crimson horns decorating his cheeks. Needless to say, he’s overwhelmed with so much joy when you say yes :))) when you ask him about why the rhinestone is so huge though, he just nervously chuckles and says something about ‘having only the best for his partner’, but really he just wants everyone to know that you’re his :((

childe

Honestly, his proposal comes pretty late into the relationship due to the circumstances of his work and lifestyle, but it doesn’t make it any less special <3 at first, he’s planning on having a really grand proposal -- spoils you with gifts, brings you to a fancy restaurant, and has fireworks in the air when he gets down on one knee, but ultimately those plans get thrown down in the ditch when he proposes to you while the both of you lay in bed together. He just felt so so much love for you in that one vulnerable moment, that he just forgets about those grandiose plans and proposes to you with a pretty ring with a stunning white diamond on it, the ring shimmering prettily in the pale moonlight. And when you say yes, thanking you under his breath and holding you while he’s fighting back tears, just glad that he just might be able to spend the rest of his days with the person he loves most in this world, and glad that you love him back just the same <3

kaeya

Buys the prettiest ring beforehand, its an elegant silver band with white crystals ornately placed on the shoulders of the ring before its finished off with a stunning sapphire gemstone at the center. Kaeya brings you up to a high balcony to have a few glasses of wine with you, something the both of you did frequently when he wasn’t too busy with work. The sky is painted with hues of purple and pink, the sun slowly dipping into the horizon, and he just thinks you look so gorgeous, that he doesn’t even process whatever you were saying to him anymore. Grabs your hand and places it in his, cutting off whatever you were saying, and professes his love for you, his tone softer and more earnest than usual. And when you say yes, he just smiles at you lovingly, and leans in to kiss you without much said afterward. It’s a comfortable silence as the both of you share soft touches with one another, and he’s content. He knows how terrible his past is and the uglier side of him that he shows only to you, but now, he’s looking forward to the future that he’ll share with you by his side. 

ayato

Proposes to you under a beautiful Inazuman sunset, using a ring his late mother had given him when he was still a young boy. The pink and orange hues of the sky mirroring the blush you both share on your cheeks, your hands in his as he slips a simple yet elegant golden band onto your ring finger as he smiles widely up at you. Not many words are spoken, but his gaze is filled with so so much love for you that he doesn’t need them, sakura petals dancing around you as if they too commemorated your engagement to ayato. Kisses you with so much passion and utter love as the sun sets into the horizon, a hand cupping your face as he smiles against your lips, silently promising to you that he’ll be there for you. Whenever, wherever. 

-

lunaire

[saudade-mayari]

It’ll be okay, right?

pairing/s: Shouta Aizawa x gn!reader || wc: 0.8k

warnings: none, ig

a/n: @slutbench made me do it. pspspsps im back, hoe.

The smell of the compounded medicine lingered around the space. A luminous light surrounding the pharmacy somehow makes him feel the tranquility he cannot even explain.

Shouta had never been this hasty to use and empty his eyedrops anyway.

He hated his dry eyes, and for him, using his quirk would mean he’ll have to deal with the hassle and discomfort. However, he had no idea and no hint on how it happened. It just slipped into his feelings that he was actually thankful for it.

His glance shifted on the small cubicle with a transparent window by the counter. He snuggles deeper on his capture scarf, clenching his fist inside his pro hero outfit’s pockets to suppress the smile that he himself knew it’s beyond impossible.

He always loved the glints of your passionate and cheerful orbs while compounding a medicine by the tiny section of UA’s clinic. The little smiles and giggles you do whenever you tend for students and teachers are always uplifting.

“Eyedrops again?” You say. Snapping your hands while you wait for the man to answer.

Your personality always sparkled with awe and joy, a complete contrast of his nature filled with gloom and sorrow. Shouta felt the warmth, like a gift of bringing joy to someone’s life.

Shoot your shot. A sentiment Hizashi gave. Would it be worth the risk? Shouta had never felt this selfish to have something he genuinely treasures.

It’ll be okay, right?

“Sho? Hey, are you good?”

Shattering back from reality, his dark-colored orbs meet your gazes. He faced tons of villains, yet your eyes always dazed him off, constantly catching him off guard and always having him defeated. Bold and Fierce.

“Ah- yes. Eyedrops. Empty.” He says as stoic and natural as he can, mentally swearing to himself to at least say a proper greeting.

“I figured. It’s been 3 days.” You say while chuckling as you start to go over the layers of drops and topicals. He’s been watching your move, so graceful and delicate. Someone he truly wants to protect.

“You empty them earlier as expected. You seem to be using your quirk so much.”

He smiles and nods. His patrols are nothing but the usual ones, only if he could say that he’s been visiting you. Only you.

You answered with a laugh, taking off your latex gloves while your hands went inside the pockets of your lab gown, pulling a small piece of accessory that is meant for your finger. Shouta’s usual demeanor slowly filled with panic. Sadness is now evident in his eyes.

It’s not real, right?

As soon as you recorded and wrapped his eyedrops, you went by the counter and gave him a pat on his shoulder. The silver band grazing on his outfit felt unusual and new. “You should rest, Sho. Coffee won’t suffice everything you know.”

He smirked. Yeah, coffee wouldn’t really suffice everything.

“How are you? You seem happy than usual.” He says while his other hand went to give a soft flick on your forehead, making you touch the area his calloused hand just went through.

Instead of pouting, you blushed and smiled, meeting his orbs with nothing but a bunch of emotions and feelings.

“Truth is, I never recalled myself being unhappy, Sho.” His eyes are glancing at the shining accessory that somehow looked so perfect in your finger. It was as if it’s really made for you. He answers with a nod.

“I have a stable job that I really love, I have a friend like you I can always count on and a guy making me feel I’m the only person in the world-” You traced the small silver band around your finger, from its intricate designs up to its diamond that impeccably fits the ring.

“I’m engaged, Sho. We’re getting married.” You say with a smile as if it blazes as brightly as the sun.

He feels like there’s a lump on his throat. His hands stuck on his pockets, unable to get the eyedrops that he asked.

He forced himself to form a smile, watching the tumble of your hair cascade down just past your shoulder. Your adorably fair features and the natural color of your lips and cheeks looked truly soft and inviting. The sophisticated look that is entirely evident in his sleep-deprived orbs constantly reminded him that you’re really remarkably gorgeous.

“Hizashi’s right.” He says.

That was just it when he considered himself losing.

Trailing his emotional sanity and finally admitting his feelings for you. It’s all too late now anyway.

“Hizashi-san is right about what?” You say, somehow dazed and confused by the sudden action and strange tension you feel.

I’m not sure when it happened, but I fell inlove with you. It was the best thing I’ve realized, and I don’t regret anything.

Words he wanted to say, but he can’t. It’s his own fault that he tried to cross on the line you set. It’s just a simple result of crossing the boundaries that he shouldn’t have been in the first place.

He smiled. Took the paper bag and gave you one last flick on your forehead. “I don’t regret it though.”

“Regret what?”

Shouta chuckled. Just this last time. “Emptying my eyedrops.” To see you, He wanted to add. He starts to turn his back on you, facing the exit of the small pharmacy you own inside the UA high.

“You’re confusing, Sho. Please get some rest.”

How could someone like him be able to make you that happier anyway?

Thinking that he could give you the world you deserve is nothing but an illusion he wishes it’s real and easy. He could never make you smile like him.

He took a deep breath. Giving you a thumbs up as he starts to walk out of the premises and face the horizon. It’s for the best anyway. He’ll get through it, just like how he always does.

—and it’ll be okay, right?

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 6: Something Borrowed, Something Blue]

I’d like to give a very special shout out to @killer-queen-xo​ and the insightful prediction she left on Chapter 5 about Y/N and the camera...you were close! 😉

Chapter summary: Y/N breaks a promise; John gives a gift; Freddie has a request; Roger makes a scene.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, creepy male behavior.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“Welcome!” Mary chimes as she opens the door for you, then her eyes flick down to the gift bag decorated with Santa hats and sprigs of holly. “Oh, love, we said positively no presents!”

“It’s just something small, I promise. Very inexpensive.”

“She’s here!” Freddie announces with a flourish of his hands, leaping up from the couch. The apartment he shares with Mary is tiny and very cluttered, and absolutely none of the decorations match. The walls are a collage of Bohemian tapestries and family photos and prints of Rococo-style paintings and magazine cutouts of articles about Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles, Aretha Franklin, Elvis Presley, Queen. Freddie pecks you on both cheeks; Blue Christmas is drifting from the record player. You’re suddenly aware that the apartment is brimming with the scent of baking cookies. In the living room, Roger, Brian, and John are hanging strings of popcorn and paper ornaments on a short, rather scruffy Christmas tree. There is a vast array of presents scattered around the tree stand; all are small, with the exception of one large square box swathed in silver and sapphire wrapping paper.

“I see no one else respected the no presents rule either.”

“You Bostonians and your insatiable need to rebel,” Freddie quips, shooing you towards the tree.

“Y/N, look at this,” Chrissie says from where she and Veronica are sitting on the couch threading popcorn. She’s frowning and holding up a piece of paper cut into the shape of a Pontiac Firebird. “Will you please inform Roger that this is not Christmas themed?”

“Awww!” You grin as she hands it to you. He’s even drawn on a windshield, headlights, and a smiley face floating behind the steering wheel. “Let him hang it, Chris. It’s the only car he’s going to be able to afford for a long time.”

Roger bounds over and embraces you, nearly knocking you over. “This is why you’re my favorite American in the entire world. Possibly my favorite person period. The love of my life.” He takes the paper Firebird and impales it on an ornament hook, then combs through the tree branches for an ideal location.

Brian points heatedly at Roger. “If he gets to hang the damned Firebird then I get to hang my Saturn!”

“Look what you’ve done,” Chrissie tells you, but she’s smiling. She’s wearing a gorgeous green velvet dress and pieces of mistletoe weaved into her long dark hair. Veronica is beside her in a chunky red sweater and denim skirt, not particularly flashy yet festive nonetheless; she waves to you as she pushes pieces of popcorn one by one down the string. She’s wearing makeup tonight, which is unusual. Her lace-white cheeks are tinged with rouge, her slate-blue eyes rimmed by lavender shadow. Freddie and Mary are removing a sheet of cookies from the oven and quibbling over whether they’ve browned enough.

Roger gestures to the gift bag as you place it under the tree. “You better not have spent your own money on that.”

“Oh, tons. It’s diamonds and gold and a dash of overpriced modern art, just to spice things up.”

Roger growls theatrically in his high, raspy voice. Brian stands back and admires the tree as John loops a strand of multicolored Christmas lights around it.

“It’s actually very modest,” you assure Roger. “Not impressive at all. Chris helped.”

“You enabled this behavior?!” Freddie scolds Chrissie as he traverses the room with an overflowing plate of chocolate chip cookies.

She sips cheap red wine impishly and shrugs. “I know a girl in fashion school, I can get their extra yarn if I buy her a cup of tea and pretend to care about her disastrous love life.”

You smirk. “Disastrous love life? I’ve got one of those.”

“You knitted something for us?!” Roger shouts, delighted.

You wiggle your fingers in the air. “What can I say? I’m good with my hands.”

Roger groans. “Don’t tease me.”

“You certainly are,” Brian tells you. “That roadie who busted his forehead open got fixed up straightaway.”

“That was literally two stitches. Head wounds just bleed a lot, it looked way worse than it was.”

“Well,” Brian insists. “I was impressed.”

Freddie claps his hands, slick obsidian nail polish gleaming. “Ahhhh, I’m so excited! What have you made for me, love? Oh, I hope it’s a nice thong.”

“It’s probably not,” Chrissie says.  

Mary pours you a glass of wine and glances around the room. “Does everyone have enough cookies? Drinks? Veronica, dear?”

“I suppose I could use a refill.” She passes Mary her glass and smiles as John sits beside her on the couch. You’ve never quite been able to figure out Veronica; she’s cordial yet removed, kind yet wary, extremely dogmatic in her Catholicism and yet simultaneously socializing with rock stars who are unmistakably living in sin. Her most redeeming quality, as far as you’ve observed, is her steadfast devotion to John...or, perhaps, to the life she’s envisioned they could build together. She rests her hand on John’s thigh and glances coolly at you as you pretend not to notice.

Mary returns with a fresh glass of wine for Veronica. “Alright. Should we start with you, Y/N?”

“What, for the gift exchange we all promised wasn’t happening?” You grin. “Sure, I’ll start.”

You open your Christmasy bag and start doling out small boxes. It’s December 23rd, and Queen is enjoying three weeks off for the holidays before the Sheer Heart Attack Tour resumes. The next show is in Columbus, Ohio—not exactly a cultural mecca, it’s true—followed by a scattering of stops across the continental United States. Half of you is thrilled, especially for the night the band will spend in Boston; the other part of you is dreading it. You don’t talk to Roger about what he does with groupies on tour—or what Brian does, or what Freddie does—and Rog doesn’t mention it around you either. He asks you to join him after every show, for dinner or drinks or clubbing; and you tell him no (though it’s never easy to) and try not to think about the apparent eventualities of stardom. Then Roger goes one way, and you go another.  

“Let’s see, what do we have here...” Brian begins prying open his box with long careful fingers.

“You can’t judge me,” you plead. “I’ve only had the tour break to work on them, and I’m really not an expert knitter or anything, and I—”

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Freddie gushes, holding his black and white striped hat aloft for everyone to see. He pulls it on over his silky hair and turns to Mary. “What do you think? Am I dashing?”

She beams as she kisses him. “Overwhelmingly so.” And you think about how being on the road feels like one dimension, and being here in London another. Here, fidelity and domesticity; there, freedom from the familiar world and all its browbeating rules.

“Mittens!” Brian proclaims joyfully. They’re an olivey green, and just large enough for his hands. “They’re so comfy, feel these Chris...”

Roger whips his hat out of the box; it’s very fuzzy and a fiery red with flecks of burnt orange. “I’m obsessed! I adore it! I’ll never take it off!”

“I can’t believe you did all this,” John says. He’s sliding on his mittens, which are a soft greyish blue. “This must have taken you days.”

“It’s Christmas! You’re supposed to slave away for the people you love at Christmas. And you’ve all done so much for me, the scales will always be hopelessly lopsided, don’t you worry.”

“The color is beautiful,” Veronica observes as she touches John’s mittens, but perhaps guardedly.

“They match his eyes!” Freddie exclaims; and they do. “This is delightful, Nurse Nightingale. Truly. How can I ever repay you?”

A smile ripples across your face, full of serenity and relief. They really do like the presents. I didn’t stay up until 4 a.m. knitting for nothing. “The cookies and wine are more than sufficient. I’m so sorry I didn’t have time to make anything for the ladies, but hopefully your charming future husbands will share and there are chocolates in the bottom of the boxes for you—”

“Oh please,” Chrissie snaps. “You’ve already made the rest of us look thoughtless enough. Kindly shut up and drink your wine now. Thank you, obnoxious Bostonian.”

You laugh as Chrissie distributes her and Brian’s gifts for everyone. She decreed weeks ago that you’ll spend Christmas Eve and Day with her family in Dartford. You can help me keep Brian distracted and in good spirits, she’d told you. His father is livid about us living together without being married, and I’m petrified Bri will give himself another ulcer over it.

Inside the small boxes Chrissie passes out are fancy teabags that smell like pomegranate and peppermint. Freddie and Mary dispense pouches of little pink soaps shaped like dolphins and seashells. John and Veronica give everyone homemade candles, which are either ruby red or evergreen. Roger has picked out three novelty mugs: Led Zeppelin for Brian and Chrissie, cats for Freddie and Mary, and raining gold coins for John and Veronica.

“Well I hope that’s prophetic,” John jokes.

“I don’t get a mug?” You’re trying not to show it, but you are hurt that he forgot you.

“No, you don’t.” Roger rummages around under the tree and passes you the large square present wrapped in silver and blue paper. Chrissie and Mary whistle and clap.

“Oh, big spender!” Freddie chastises.

“Roger, no,” you breathe, horrified.

“Roger, yes!” He drums the coffee table eagerly. “Open it.”

“No real presents allowed! You don’t have the money—”

“Are we married?” Roger asks.

You blink at him. “What?”

“Are. We. Married?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Then you don’t get to tell me what to do with my very tiny sliver of earnings that the record company doesn’t steal.” He grins. “Now open it.”

Slowly, cautiously, you tear through the wrapping paper as the others hover on the edges of their seats. John is squinting suspiciously. Roger balls up his fists and presses them to his smiling lips. You open the top flaps of the box.

“No.”

“What is it?!” Mary begs. “The anticipation is agony!”

“Yeah, love of my life,” Roger taunts, his blue eyes luminous. “What is it?”

Carefully, you lift it out of the box. It’s brand new and shiny and perfect.

“A camera!” Freddie cries.

“A Canon F-1, to be precise,” Roger says. “And a manual too. For our aspiring wildlife photographer. Us feral musicians being the wildlife, of course.”

“Roger...” You reach for him instinctively, and he rushes over to wrap you in a hug. “Thank you so much. I don’t know why you would do this for me.”

He laughs. “Because you’re the best gift I ever got, Boston babe!”

“Let’s give it a try!” Freddie plucks the camera from your hands and begins loading film. “Alright, click this...press that...oh fuck, how do I do this?! Deaky, come over here. You can fix anything.”

“Sure thing, Fred.” John readies the camera in just a minute or two, no longer than it takes Mary to refill glasses and send around another plate of cookies. He looks a little ashen to you, a little stunned; but when you ask him if he’s okay, John just smiles and nods.

Freddie snaps photos of Brian and Chrissie as they snuggle on the couch, of John posing sheepishly in front of the Christmas tree, of Veronica waving as she nibbles a chocolate chip cookie, of Roger in his flame-colored hat. Then Roger makes sure you get your camera back, and it’s your turn to take the pictures. You sit beside the tree, the kaleidoscopic glow of Christmas lights speckling the walls like stars, and collect still frames of memories like catching lightning bugs in jars, like it’s July instead of December, like it’s the heart of a year instead of the end. After a while Freddie comes over to sit next to you, to toast wine glasses with you, to make fun of your flushed cheeks. Then he watches as you gaze at Roger from across the room. Rog is trying on Brian’s mittens and clapping his hands like a seal, grinning hugely, flashing his pointy little canine teeth. And despite all those oh-so-rational promises you’ve made to yourself, you begin to wonder.

“Don’t do it,” Freddie says quietly.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you sling back, pleasantly tipsy. And then: “Why not?”

“Because I like having you around. And if you do this, eventually you won’t be around anymore.”

When you’re finally exhausted enough to drag yourself away from them and catch a taxi, John follows you out into the hallway of the apartment building.

“I have one more gift for you.”

“John, no, absolutely not, I am thoroughly unworthy—”

“Stop.” He pulls a thin, rectangular item from behind his back. It takes you a moment to recognize it.

“Your notebook...?”

“I know it’s not wrapped.” He’s anxious, you realize, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I kept trying to work up the nerve, and I still wasn’t sure about it when we came over here, and now, well...here I am.” He gives the notebook to you, and you open it, and you gasp in awe.

Inside are sketches from Rome: the concert, the temples, the museum, the beach on that cool breezy afternoon, and, best of all, the people you shared the city with. You and Roger laughing in front of a statue of Perseus. Brian and Chrissie contemplating ruins. Freddie hunched over a piano, his dexterous hands stretched across the keys. And you sitting in that sweltering, fire-lit corner of the Italian restaurant, smiling from behind a glass bottle of Coke. You trace your fingertips over your own face; it’s blissful and peaceful and beautiful in a way that you’ve never seen yourself. “John...”

“Because, you know, you said that you wanted to document the tour so you could remember it all, and I figured...since you didn’t have a camera...maybe this would be better than nothing.”

“It’s a lot better than nothing, John. It’s incredible.”

“They’ll do for now. You won’t need drawings anymore,” he notes, somewhat mournfully. “You can put them on your refrigerator until you have photos to replace them with.”

You shake your head, still staring. “The way you captured my face...”

He shrugs, smiling crookedly. “I just borrowed it.”

“Thank you.” You climb onto your tiptoes and wrap your arms around the back of his neck. He’s warm and gentle; his fluffy hair tickles the sensitive undersides of your wrists.

“Happy Christmas,” he whispers to you; happy, not merry, like a true Englishman. And he’s right. You can’t remember a time you’ve been happier.

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings like a scream, like shattering glass. It wrenches you out of that fogged, heavy precursor to sleep and your hand fumbles from beneath the covers to grab the receiver. The cord bounces clumsily against your nightstand and nudges the blush-colored conch shell that lives there.

“Hello...?”

“Darling, there’s an emergency.”

You bolt upright in bed. “What happened? Are you okay? Is the band—?”

“There’s going to be a party on New Year’s Eve and you have to come.”

You groan and fall back into the embankment of pillows. “Fred, that’s not an emergency. Jesus christ. I thought someone died.”

“Then you should be overwhelmed with gratitude for your friends’ continued existence and delighted to join us!”

You glance at the calendar tacked to your wall. “That’s tomorrow, right?”

Freddie scoffs. “Of course it’s tomorrow! Some bloke from the record company is hosting and I need a date. Makes me more marketable or something. Mary can’t come, she’s got the flu. So you’ll have to take one for the team and play the adoring paramour. Shouldn’t be too heavy a lift. I’ve been informed that I’m very adorable.”

“Make Roger do it.”

There’s an edge to Freddie’s voice when he speaks. “They aren’t quite that progressive, dear.”

“I’m really more of a museums and restaurants person than a getting coerced into socializing with strangers person, if I’m being completely honest with you.”

“You’ll survive,” he replies brusquely. “Chrissie and Brian will be there. You’ll have fellow boring people to hide in a corner and eat biscuits with and discuss planetary movements or whatever the fuck.”

“Great. Roger and John are coming too?”

“Not Deaky. He already has plans with Veronica’s family and can’t weasel out of them. It’s not like he would schmooze anyone anyway.”

“Oh.” That disappoints you, more than you thought it could. “Maybe I have plans I can’t weasel out of, ever think of that?”

Now Freddie sounds amused. “You don’t.”

“How do you know?”

He laughs. “Because there’s no one you love in London more than us.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The paramour ruse doesn’t go very well; within twelve minutes Freddie has abandoned you and is guzzling martinis with Elton John and some record company guys you don’t recognize, pointy party hats on their heads and silver balloons bobbing against the ceiling. It’s not 1975 yet, but it will be soon. The mansion is decked with suits and ballgowns and expensive-looking vases perched precariously on end tables. Elegant white columns rim the vast living room. You, Brian, Chrissie, and Roger are chatting nervously by a massive punch bowl carved in ice, swiping appetizers off the waiters’ trays and trying not to break anything.

“I feel completely useless,” you say, nodding to Freddie.  

Chrissie chuckles. “I think he just wanted you to be here. He thinks you’re good luck, you know. All our fates turned around when you showed up.”

Roger points at you with his punch glass. “Your people specialize in witchcraft, don’t they?”

“Oh, so close. That’s Salem, about thirty minutes up the road. No witches in Boston.”

“Hmm. Sounds like something a secret witch would say.”

You brandish your hand through the air. “I summon more mini crab cakes.”

The others glance around. “It didn’t work,” Chrissie observes sadly.

Brian sips his punch, which is bubbling and a vivid red. “Maybe you have to invoke Satan first. I saw a toy poodle on the couch you could sacrifice.”

“Yes, yes,” Roger agrees. “Just toss it in the oven and see if anyone notices.”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Now that would make a fantastic impression.”

Roger grabs your empty glass, plops it on a passing waiter’s tray, and takes your hands in his. They’re rough and strong, and they feel a little too good. “Alright, are you going to dance with me now?”

“Roger...”

“Don’t harass her,” Chrissie warns. “She’s here, she’s working on conjuring more snacks, she’s under no obligation to dance with you on top of all that.”

He frowns at you, those intense blue eyes bright beneath shagging bangs. “Really?”

You smile, reaching up to straighten the collar of his sparking rainbow jacket. “If you’re still interested in 1975, you can ask me then.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grins triumphantly at Chrissie, and she smirks back. “Can someone kindly tell me what that clock over on the mantle says? Obviously I can’t see that far.”

“11:19,” Brian says.

“Fantastic. I’ll be back.” He winks at you, then looks to Brian. “Stay with her, will you?”

“Sure.”

Roger lights a cigarette and saunters away, smoke drifting around him. Several young women—escorts or daughters of producers or soon-to-be-ex-girlfriends of musicians—descend upon him and start asking about Killer Queen. Roger is radiant when he replies, enchanting, wearing charisma like a snake’s skin, climbing ever onwards up the rungs of the social ladder; and you think about how there’s Home Roger and Tour Roger—though he felt like home in Boston, and  though he feels so distant now—and how any woman who chooses him will have to spend her life watching him devour other people’s love from across the room, from across the world.

“Be careful,” Chrissie tells you softly.

“He won’t be back at midnight.” You pour yourself a fresh glass of punch, avoiding her eyes, hiding your disappointment...or, embarrassingly and infinitely worse, perhaps your hope. “They’ve been staring at him all night. And he’s noticed.”

“Oh, honey...” Chrissie rubs your bare shoulder, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s fine,” you tell her. And you plan to drink until it feels like it is.  

Some guitarist from Genesis appears to introduce himself to Brian, and Bri leaps into a fevered discussion of how much he admires the band’s work and how he built his Red Special and the merits of guitar techniques that sound like Russian or Japanese to you. Before you know it, the mysterious Genesis man is hauling Brian off to present him to someone equally important. Chrissie shoots a worried glimpse at you as she follows Bri away.

“Go!” you insist, forcing a smile. Just abandon me in this super intimidating mansion full of rich important strangers and breakable museum artifacts, that’s totally cool.

“We’ll be back in five minutes, I swear.”

You wave cheerfully. “Take your time!” You peer at the clock. Thirty minutes until midnight.

As you’re dishing yourself yet another glass of punch, a man in a posh white suit approaches from the other side of the table. “Are you hiding from people as well?”

“Not too successfully, apparently.”

He recoils and raises his eyebrows. “My apologies. Want me to disappear?”

You almost say yes—it wobbles on your lips like an unsteady toddler—then you reconsider. He’s tall and blond and polished; he looks a bit like Roger from an alternate universe where Rog went to boarding school and plays polo. More significantly, he could be someone important, someone the band needs, someone you don’t want to offend. “No, I’m sorry, that was so impolite. Please forgive me. My judgment is quite impaired, that’s my excuse, I blame the punch. Also I’m a New Englander and thus inclined to be uncooperative towards Brits.”

He laughs, a full genuine laugh; and it feels like a victory. See? I’m clever, I’m charming. Anyone would be lucky to have me. “I’m Eric.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s a resounding pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” He gestures towards the open area on the floor where buzzed men and giggling women are tripping over each other. “There’s no way I could interest you in that, is there?”

You ponder it, nursing your fourth punch. You aren’t much of a dancer, that’s true; and this handsome stranger of a man isn’t Roger. But he might be able to get your mind off him.

You sling back the rest of your punch and slam the glass down onto the table. “Okay. But only because there’s an Eagles record on.”

“Deal.”

He follows you to the dance floor, weaves his fingers through yours, sways easily with the music. Eric tells you that he’s from up north, in the Lake District; his family owns an estate that used to be the seat of an earldom or something. He describes endless emerald hills and castles and horse farms until your mind starts to swim, until the effects of the punch and scant appetizers roll over you like a wave.

“Okay,” you announce dreamily. “Thank you so much, Eric. This has been lovely. But I have to go sit down now.”

“Oh come on, one more song!”

“I’m flattered, but I have to pass. Maybe after midnight...” You move to pull your hands away, but he doesn’t let go. His fingers are locked with yours. You try again. Eric’s still smiling, but his eyes have gone flinty. Oh no. You look around for Freddie or Brian, both of whom have vanished.

“One more, come on,” he presses. “I insist.”

“Eric, I’m really dizzy—”

“Don’t be rude. We’re having such a nice time, aren’t we?”

“Please let go of me.” You try to keep your voice level, try not to offend him. Everyone around you on the dance floor is laughing and drinking and smoking, not paying any attention at all.

“Look, you said you’d dance, so that’s what we’re doing. Am I suddenly not good enough for you?”

“Seriously, you need to let go.” You try to tug your hands away. Your heart is racing, blood rushing in your ears. The room is listing to the right, now the left. You realize that Eric is gradually leading you away from the center of the room and towards a quiet hallway. I can’t let this guy get me alone. I’m weak and I’m drunk, and I don’t know what he’ll do to me. You struggle harder, more visibly. His grip on your hands tightens. “Let go, Eric, let go of me!”

“Calm down, bloody hell lady, I’m just trying to—”

And then Eric is ripped away from you and his face smashed with vicious force into the nearest column. You scream, your hands covering your gaping mouth; the room goes silent. Eric crumples to the floor, unconscious. Blood pours from his broken nose and litters his white suit with crimson blotches and smears. Droplets drip crawlingly down the column. Roger stands over Eric, shirt completely unbuttoned, jacket rumpled, shadows of lipstick peppering his neck and chest. He wipes his own palms on his rainbow jacket, scowling, disgusted. Then he turns to you.

“Ready to go?”

“Roger, I...” You gaze in shock down at Eric. I hope he’s not dead. That might make things awkward with the record company. “I-I-I’m so sorry,” you manage finally. “I’m sorry, Roger, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything—”

“No, I’m ready to go.” He lays his hand on the small of your back and guides you towards the front door, grabbing both of your coats off the rack. “Let’s go.”

“Okay.” And relief floods through you. Okay.

Brian pushes his way out of the stunned crowd as Roger swings the door open. Frigid air skates over your cheeks. “Rog, what happened?!”

Roger glares savagely. “When I tell you to stay with someone, you fucking stay with them.” And then he steps with you out into the bitterly cold, nearly-January night.

“It’s not his fault,” you explain as you and Roger hurry down the sidewalk, your words spinning mist into the air. “Some guy from Genesis showed up and you know how Bri is about them, and I told him and Chris to go, please don’t be mad—”

“Are you alright?” He’s scrutinizing you closely; you can still see the rosy lipstick stains on his skin as you pass beneath each streetlight.

“I’m fine, I’m completely fine. Please don’t be mad.”

He narrows his eyes. “Well obviously I’m not mad at you, babe.”

“Oh god, I hope this doesn’t hurt the band. I don’t know who that guy was with. You broke his nose, you know.”

“Good.”

You shake your head, trying to chase away those ghosts of lipstick and the girls who left them there. I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him. “I know you were busy, I know the party was important, I know I ruined midnight for you—”

“You didn’t ruin it. We still have a few more minutes. We’ll duck into a pub somewhere and have a pint to welcome in the new year, it’ll be grand. Maybe get you some food. You look like you could use it.”

“I just...” You bury your numb, shaking hands in your coat pockets and brace yourself against the cold. “You left the girls. Left the party. I just don’t understand why you would do that.”

“Are you serious? Obviously I’m going to drop everything if you need me. I’m always going to do that.” He pulls his fiery red, hand-knit hat out of his coat pocket and slips it over your wild, windswept hair. “You’re still on my list, you know.”

You sigh. “You’re a smart man, Roger Taylor, but that’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”

“What,” he says, a tad bitingly. “Because I can’t promise you a picket fence and precisely two well-mannered, unremarkable children and a golden retriever? You’re right, I’m not going to promise you that. Because that’s not who I am. That’s not who you are either, by the way. But I can promise you that your life will never feel like a cage. And isn’t that what this was all about for you anyway?”

And that stops you, here in the cold dark heart of London, here beneath a cascading streetlight on the opening page of 1975. Because Roger’s right.

He takes your left hand and lifts it to his lips, and you know exactly what he’s going to do even before he oh-so-feather-lightly bites your goosebumped knuckles. “Look, forget about it. Don’t worry. Don’t freak yourself out. We’ll get a drink, we’ll watch the fireworks, and then I’ll walk you home. No questions, no answers. You just let me know if you ever change your mind, okay?”

You watch Roger, his cheeks ruddy from the wind, halos of streetlights reflected in his eyes. And you echo: “Okay.”

[hardyshoe]

benefits- a roger Taylor series

part nine

warnings- language

taglist- @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @rogerrhqpsody​

a/n: okay loves, im so proud of this chapter so I hope you like it xx

  when roger woke up he didn't find you in bed with him like always and when he ran his hand across the sheets he found your side of the bed warm from where you'd been sleeping. he sighed and pulled himself out of his sleepy state,  eyes bleary with slumber. the floor was cold beneath his feet but the winter sunlight felt crisp on his pale skin.

 roger strolled into the living room of the flat clad only in his stripy pyjama bottoms, he found you there with that one tie die t-shirt impossibly stretched over your belly. at thirty eight weeks pregnant you felt like a beached whale, nothing fit over your stomach except roger largest t shirts and you could never get more than about three or four hours of sleep. you had one hand on your lower back and the other pitched on the swell of your belly while you paced around the kitchen with lightly shut eyes. the sight of you concerned him, you looked like you were in pain. 

“love?” no answer.

he raised his voice ever sol slightly and asked again, ``love, are you okay?”

 you hummed at him and shot him a week smile, only making roger more concerned. when your face turned sour and your eyes screwed up he jumped towards you.

 “sweetheart whats hurting you?” you didn't respond for a minute, holding a hand up to signal that you needed a minute.

“ ‘m fine rog, my back hurts is all” this wasn't uncommon your back had been aching almost constantly for the last couple weeks but this was different, the pain was deeper and isolated completely on your lower back. it had been there since you woke in the middle of the night and had persisted until now, at seven you got up to pace knowing you'd wake roger if you lay in bed much longer. so here you were, feet frozen from the cold floorboards and body all too hot.

“you sure? you don't look fine,” he was still worried and you were still pacing, the books didn't say anything about this.

“I swear I'm good, could you make me something to eat?” you were starved and you probably hadn't walked as much as you just had in about six months. 

“i’m not great at cooking, but I do make a mean burnt toast” he grinned at you and pulled out a chair at the table for you, you chuckled at him.

“sounds lovely.”

 “good because I can't make anything else,” he put two slices in the toaster and took a seat next to you, letting a comfortable silence fall between you. roger knew how uncomfortable you were and hated seeing you in pain but he knew you didn't mind it one bit when the outcome was so lovely.

another wave of pain washed over you and your breathing deepened to laboured sighs, rogers hands gripping yours through a worried look. it was getting worse you thought but really you couldn't be sure and once it was over you were just left with the heavy ache. you dropped rogers hands and opened your eyes again, emptying your lungs in a drawn out sigh.

“what was that?” his voice was laced with concern.

“just my back again” at this point you were a little worried too but at the moment you could handle it.

the toaster popped and you stood up, with a lot of effort.

“ill get it love, don't worry” he pulled his eyes away from you with a lot of effort and pushed his chair back.

“hold that thought Rog,” you looked down and no no surprise you couldn't see past your stomach but you knew what was happening.

roger turned on his heel and stared blankly at you, his eyes raking up and down your body until they stopped on your legs, “I think my waters just broke”

 his eyes shot wide and he darted into into the nursery, fumbling around for the hospital bag. you yelled after him but he was in his own world running from room to room trying to get everything he thought you would need as if he was on a race against the clock. he pulled a grey hoodie over his unbrushed hair and ran back out to you, mumbling something about his keys.

“Roger Taylor would you please calm down,” he stopped and looked at you, he tried to say something but it came out as a jumbled ‘what?’”

“love the babies aren't going to come in five minutes, you don't need to go mad” you chuckled.

“b-but your... don't we need to go?” he looked like a worried child who didn't know what was going on.

 “yes rog we do need to go but theres no need for such a hurry” you took the keys from the side and took the bag from rogers hands to double check it had everything. you started listing off items in your head while roger looked on, still not sure the situation wasn't dire.

 another, what could now be identified as a contraction, ripped through you and halted your movements. both your hand shot to your belly and a string of curses fell trough your lips, “bloody buggering hell that hurts”

roger was right by you, keys and bag in hand trying to comfort you. you gave him a thankful smile and cocked your head towards the door, leading the way out. once in the car roger sped off, definitely breaking the speed limit despite your protests. he kept racing down the streets until a siren started to follow the car.

“fuck, no no we don't have the time for this” he pulled the car over and beat his fists on the wheel.

“roger I told you to slow down! I don't know what you expected,” you were slightly annoyed and just hoped roger would play nice with the police officer.

“sir do you know how fast you were going back there?” the office looked down into the car and you tried to muster a little smile.

“n-no officer look my wife is in labour,” your eyes shot open, did he just say wife? “we really need to get to the hospital”

“right okay, go on then just slow down. congratulations” he looked like he didn't know what to say but wandered off nonetheless. roger started the car back up and ripped off at the same pace as before.

“roger what was that!?” you were stunned and confused.

“what was what love?” 

“roger you called me your wife” he didn't look at you when he next spoke, keeping his eyes on the roads.

“yeah well I was actually going to say something about that, um, look in the glovebox” you clicked the hatch open and rumadged with its contents.

“what am I looking for?” he leant over and pulled something out with one hand.

 you couldn't see what it was and you didn't think you'd ever been more confused. his hand flicked with whatever it was and he jerked the car into a lay-by. he held out the object towards you and raised a brow in your direction.

“I did have a speech but we’re a bit pressed for time,” he chuckled and look deep into your eyes, almost searching for something, “what do you say love? fancy marrying me?”

 you'd have pinched yourself to make sure this was real but at that moment a contraction ripped through you and left you unable to speak. however you nodded through the pain, hot tears in your eyes.

“of course ill marry you” your voice was weak with the ebb of pain but the smile in your eyes was brighter than roger had ever seen.

 he sighed a laugh and pulled your hand over to his, pushing the band of the ring down your finger and kissing where the diamond now sat. taking your into his arms as best he could he kissed you. one day you would have to write a book about the way he kissed you and the way that fireworks seemed to go of all around. the way he held you and the way his eyes never left yours. 

“I love you y/n” he pulled back and placed a hand on your cheek.

“I love you too roger but please for the love of god get me to a hospital, id rather not have these babies in a car.” as happy as you were you could feel the contractions coming on faster and harder.

 he nodded and gunned the car into action, a wild smile gracing his pretty, pink lips. you couldn't help but admire him, his golden hair falling shaggy around his shoulders and his piercing blue eyes focused so steadily on the road. he looked happier than ever before and knowing you caused this brought a warmth to your body. oh what love does a person.

 when you arrived at the hospital they put you in a wheelchair and pushed you to the maternity ward. the hospital was quiet from the private room they put you in and roger had finally stopped panicking, the ecstasy of love running through his veins.

 the pain was excruciating and you were begging for it to stop, it hurt roger more than he could say to see you like this. you were screaming through the contractions and your body was weak from weeks of little sleep. but he was proud of you, oh so very proud, the pain was ruining you but between each wave you look to him and smile or mutter something he couldn't hear. 

 in five hours you were ready to push, the pain so bad you couldn't think and you felt so weak that you didn't think you could do it. but rogers hand never left yours and when you heard a scream from the first baby the pain ceased to matter. baby number two came about two minutes later and both of them were placed on your chest after being cleaned up.

you cried and so did roger, he joined you on the tiny hospital bed and lifted one of the babies into his arms. holding its tiny hand and gazing deep into its eyes, he kissed its forehead and held it like it would break.

“which one is this love?”he looked at you and the two of you laughed, foreheads pressed together and tears running freely.

“thats our little Juliette.” he grinned and waved his fingers upfront of her precious eyes and watched her wriggle about. roger was in love.

 when his gaze drifted to you he found you looking down at the tiny baby boy in your arms with a muddled frown. he looked at the child and saw what you meant with your look, there was a little tuft of curly blonde hair on the top of his head and his eyes where an exact mix of yours and rogers and his mouth had a smile on it.

“y/n are you thinking what I'm thinking?” roger was looking at you now and watching you nod.

“god roger the kids not an Oliver,” you glanced back at the baby and laughed, “he's a freddie.”

“how does that miraculously talented bastard always get his way” you laughed with him and cooed at the babies, feeling more love in that room that you ever would have thought possible.

 you nursed the babies into soft slumber and after a while of watching them you too dozed off. when you were out roger went and made some phone calls, everyone had given a congratulations and a promise of a visit later on. all except Freddie who squealed down the line and said he would come down as soon as he could ‘whether or or not the hospital lets me in in darling’”

 roger returned to the room and took a seat by your bed. he felt numb, numb with the emotions that were coursing through him. he was completely overcome with love and he was a bit overwhelmed. so when baby girl Juliette started fussing he didn't mind her crying, he just started to rock her gently in his arms. she looked so much like you, her eyes and nose where the spitting image of yours but the most striking thing was the way she sounded. when she stopped crying she mumbled away in his arms with a voice that mirrored yours perfectly. he smiled at her and felt a hot tear role down his cheek. 

 Freddie arrived on his own about two hours later with an armful of gifts and a shining grin, he waltzed through the reception and knocked on every door in the maternity ward until he found you. you had woken up and showered while rog fawned over the babies and by the time Freddie arrived you were sat on the old sofa by the hospital window with roger.

 “darlings am I in the right room?” Freddie poked his head round the door and smiled in relief, “you wouldn't believe how many rooms I've been into to find yours”

“Fred why didn't you ask where we were?” roger asked, holding Juliette close to his chest.

“because its not visiting hours, they'd throw me out if they knew I was here,” you laughed and he dropped all his gifts on the bed, “right I want to meet my niece and nephew.”

you ushered him over and had him sit next to you, “that’s baby Juliette.” you nodded over to the baby in rogers arms and saw as Freddie cooed at her, giggling when she squirmed.

 you then held baby boy out to him and placed him in Fred’s arms. “ ...and that is Freddie”

 his whole face lit up, eyes glossing over. “a-are you serious, you named him after me?”

“’course we did, you told us to” he laughed, tears threatening to spill, “and theres no one we would rather our child share a name with than you.”

“god you really do know how to make a man cry don't you?” he laughed and wiped his tears with the hand that wasn't holding the tiny baby, “I am going to spoil this little prince rotten”

 for the rest of the afternoon Freddie never let go of his ‘little prince’, he gave the babies his presents which were mostly baby grows and stuffed animals and doted on the twins like he'd never see them again. the man was a miracle, while he and rog looked after the babies you got in about three hours of sleep before everyone else arrived.

“what do you think they're called?”

“would you please stop shouting”

“i’m not shouting I'm just exited”

 the voices in the corridor were easily identified as your friends, they burst into the room with all the grace of a stampeding elephant. when they noticed the silence they all froze and just looked on at Freddie and Freddie and rog with his darling Juliette.

“hel-” you were quickly cut off by Mary engulfing you in her arms.

“i’m so proud of you y/n!” she pinched your cheek and pulled away with a clap of her hands, “right introduce us”

 you laughed and roger came over to you handing over Juliette and taking the ‘little prince’ from freddie’s arms.

“well my beautiful fiancee an-” roger tried to speak but Mary once again piped up before he could finish.

“fiancee! you're getting married?”

“yes now shut up I wasn’t finished.” he held the baby boy in his arms out towards everyone, “this is Freddie jack Taylor”

 “...and this is Juliette Mary Taylor”

 Mary pointed to herself and gave you a speechless, questioning look.

“yes after you silly. who else?” she squealed and gave you another tight hug, careful of the fragile human in you grasp.

“why jack?” brian asked, flittering his long fingers in front of baby freddie’s face.

“jack Kerouac, rog was reading him when I first met him. its the reason we’re friends” you smiled over at him and he gazed back at you with those beautiful blue eyes. 

 in that moment roger Taylor was happy, and not just joyous. he was utterly and truly, incandescently happy. you could have told him the world was ending and he wouldn't have batted and eyelash, because he had you.

[babywarg]

A drpepperony proposal/wedding please? im thinking if you go with the wedding that would be more symbolic since u legally can't have 3 but it would be cute to see them exchanging their own vows and ring/other jewelry privately with their closest friends and family and 'making it official' ofc stephen would get overwhelmed by the love from his partners and his new family 💖

Hi, anon! I’m sorry this didn’t turn out to be a traditional serious “official” ceremony, with friends and family and vows, etc…but I still hope you enjoy reading!

I have no idea how to describe wedding dresses, feel free to come up with your own design 😆 Feel free to think up the music they used for the dance, too, because otherwise the whole montage plays out in my head to this song.

[obnoxious note, 8/24/2019: NOT ACCEPTING NEW PROMPTS AT THE MOMENT. Thank you for understanding 💕]

Let’s Get Married

Tony had wanted to go to Vegas.

Pepper had no specific ideas, but made it clear she thought Vegas was a shitty idea.

As the two of them argued, Stephen realized it was best that he decide for the three of them. But when they were all relatively mellow and fuzzy from what Tony simply called “alien juice,” Stephen included, getting one’s thoughts together wasn’t easy.

(Tony’s fault: he’d been wanting to celebrate their third year of being together as a trio. “Three’s our lucky number, right?” And he really, really wanted to do it with alcohol.

(Stephen, being the doctor, and Pepper, being the most sensible of them all, put their feet down and told him alcohol was off the table.

(Still, Tony insisted on having something. So it was up to Stephen to get creative. And bum some “alien juice” off an absolutely-legal-you-can’t-prove-it’s-not apothecary he met in another dimension.

(It was a liquid that mimicked the effects of alcohol - including, at times, memory loss the morning after - but did not damage the human liver or caused hangovers.

(Stephen had to get creative more than once that night, it seemed...)

Fortunately, one side effect of the liquid they’d imbibed was a freer mental state, so he was able to access the necessary information from his mind palace without trouble.

There was a dimension where there were no fauna at all - only flora, of different hues and shapes.

Some of the plant life took on the form and behaviors of animals; there would be butterflies made of translucent leaves. Birds made of tiny flowerheads that fluttered in the perpetual breeze.

And there was color. So much color. It was always daytime in that dimension, and soft light always shone, casting rainbows as shadows and making everything shimmer.

There was a large cavern the size of a concert hall. Instead of a roof, what it had was a long, wide tunnel opening up to ground level, lined with vines and a magnificent, pleasantly fragrant assortment of living flowers.

For a while now, Stephen had been planning to take Pepper and Tony there.

It was the perfect place for a wedding.

***

“Oh, Stephen,” Pepper gasped, “this is beautiful.”

While Pepper was busy taking in the new environment, Tony glared at his boyfriend. “And you never took us here before why?”

“I was saving it,” Stephen huffed. “For a special occasion or something, Iunno.” He was still rather tipsy. Though, he liked to tell himself, not as tipsy as the other two.

“This occasion is plenty special, isn’t it?” Tony argued. “So can you, like…magic up some nice clothes for us? I suddenly feel a little underdressed, with my jeans and my Hello Kitty shirt.”

They were a bit underdressed, Stephen acknowledged. They were all in casual wear, for a simple night out on the town, armed with a formidable supply of “alien juice” and the intent to have fun.

Getting married was a spur of the moment thing. And they were laughing as they all agreed to it, so Stephen wasn’t all that sure they were serious.

But damned if he wasn’t going to milk this moment for all it had.

“Okay, okay.” He cleared his throat. Made a few hand motions that he knew to be a bit overdramatic…

And in the blink of an eye, Tony was in a posh, classic tuxedo. So was Stephen.

The latter’s outfit was just a little flashier, with the Cloak of Levitation hanging down the back of his shoulders, disguised as a red cape (it had been disguised as a red scarf earlier that evening. Stylish either way).

But Pepper…Pepper was in something that made her look like a dream.

It was a proper white wedding dress, sans the traditional veil. It seemed to be made of diamonds and lace, but on closer inspection was made of satin petals and frozen dew: a perfect blend with the delicate scenery.

Stephen was fascinated. He hadn’t had a specific kind of dress in mind, but he figured his altered mental state had something to do with how it turned out.

That is, some part of him must have always wanted to see Pepper dressed like this.

Pepper could hardly believe it, herself. She turned this way and that, admiring how smoothly the dress flowed around and against her.

“Look at this!” she cried, when she’d caught her breath. “I’m fricking gorgeous!”

“Yes, you fricking are,” Tony immediately agreed, stepping up to her and taking her by the hand.

Beaming, she held out her other hand to Stephen, who took it without hesitation.

“So, we getting married now?” she asked.

Stephen tipsily stammered, “I forgot to ask what demoni–dinom–dinimation–”

“The fastest,” Tony snapped. “C’mon, can’t keep the nuptial bed waiting!”

Stephen had to laugh at that first. Then he took Tony’s hand so the three of them formed a circle.

He closed his eyes. Their hands started to glow. When he opened his eyes again the glow disappeared, and there were simple gold bands on their left ring fingers.

Tony and Pepper held their hands up to the light, marveling at how the low light struck off the magic metal and seemed to make it glow.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Tony exclaimed. He turned to Stephen, then to Pepper. “I do, I do, now we’re married, let’s go home.”

“Wait,” Pepper interrupted. “Can’t we stay here just a little bit longer? I really like this place.”

“We should at least stick around for a bridal dance,” Stephen suggested. “If you guys are up for that.”

Tony grinned. He really wasn’t as eager to go home as he had been saying, and Stephen could tell the romantic setting was getting under his skin, too.

“Fine,” he declared, “one dance. Each. Cue the Iron Maiden, if you please.”

Stephen grunted. Indeed. He had other music in mind.

From nowhere, the sound of string instruments drifted in, echoed softly in the cavern. It seemed to disturb some of the butterflies and birds that nested in the vines; they fluttered about listlessly.

Tony laid his hands on Pepper’s waist. Pepper threw her arms around his neck.

And they danced.

So lost in each other’s eyes they were, that they didn’t notice until several steps in: they had been dancing upwards.

Rising up the tunnel that ended in a majestic view of the sapphire sky.

Soon, buoyed up by the Cloak, Stephen joined them in the air, a self-satisfied twinkle in his eyes. Tony gently broke away from Pepper and grabbed him by the waist, pulled him close.

“My beautiful madman,” he said softly.

They managed to waltz a few steps, then Tony leaned up for a kiss, and Stephen promptly melted into it.

After a while he felt Pepper’s hands on his own, where they lay on Tony’s shoulders. At this signal, Tony pulled away, and Stephen drifted into Pepper’s arms.

They laughed, they fell into thoughtful silences, they kissed, they changed partners, they somehow managed to find a way to dance together, all three at once, and they kissed even more. Song after song after song played, with the flowers they were surrounded with swaying in the endless wind, and sunlight making everything around them shine.

***

Floating in a glimmering cavern, holding both his loved ones close, Stephen had never been more in love than he was then.

This whole affair might have been done on a whim. For the rush. For the pure joy of living in the moment.

The after-effects of the “alien juice” were harmless, but upredictable. In the morning, one or two or all three of them might wake up in their shared bed wondering why they had rings on, what the heck happened the night prior.

But Stephen didn’t care. And he was quite sure Tony and Pepper didn’t, either. They would keep the rings. Cherish whatever memories would remain of the evening.

And maybe someday, they would come back to this place, with friends and family to witness a more formal event.

This was, as far as Stephen was concerned, a long time coming…

And definitely a much better idea than Vegas.

[songofadaydream]

my real-time thoughts on rocketman the 4th time I’ve seen it in total and 2nd time this week, let’s go bois *very long post warning*

fair warning I just finished jojo rabbit less than an hour ago and it was way more emotional than I expected, so she’s probably going to be an emotional wreck tonight ladies!! :)) also, I will be pausing the movie throughout! just wanted to let you know

starting the night out right with some lay’s salt and vinegar chips and a lush face mask

not even a part of the movie but when the studio logos come on a version of goodbye yellow brick road and just *french kiss*

it’s starting and I am here for it!!

taron comes looking like an icon and a snack. actually, a whole meal. the heart glasses omggg

“how long’s this gonna take.” “that’s really up to you.”

i never noticed this before but taron stares right into the camera as he introduces himself

“my name is elton hercules john. and I’m an alcoholic. and a cocaine addict. and a sex addict. and a bulimic. i’m also a shopaholic who was problems with weed, prescription drugs, and anger management.”

“well my dealer was out of town I thought this seemed like a good alternative,”

“and I wanted to get better.”

um the transition into the full on musical number of the bitch is back.

this tiny little child actor playing elton saying bitch 10 million times. props to his parents for letting him do that.

um also his riffs??

just the way his mom says, “love to.”

god his dad is a DOUCHE

“when are you going to hug me”🥺🥺

the flashlight conducting scene!! they’re playing rocketman and it’s so beautiful and cute!! whe lil reggie/elton gets on the mini piano oh my god

when he looks at his mom’s fashion magazines...gay fashion icon beginnings...

*looks up* “can we go home,”

he starts playing his teacher’s song and she’s just like 😦😦

idk if this is an unpopular opinion but I don’t really like the I want love scene. I just don’t really like the switching of singer, the arrangement, and tempo. just my opinion though :/ also that’s the only weak scene of this movie I think

elton’s grandmother appreciation post send tweet

that last I want love though.

when his mom is clearly getting it on in a car and her date is like, “I’m..,,..a friend of.,.,,..your mum’s,.,,”

his dad leaves. heartbreaking!

when he wipes the tear away...

“i discovered records. and rock and roll :)”

playing classical music with an elvis presley haircut is an aesthetic no I don’t take criticism

“excuse me. you can’t put that there,” “why not,” “it’ll get knocked off.”

when he transforms into teenage elton and an amazing musical/dance number starts

that face taron makes when the door shuts on the car

“it’s not just your name. you gotta kill the person you were born to be in order to become the person you wanna be.”

that kiss with one of the band members is so hot.

peeing in a bottle in disgusting I’m sorry.

“what’d you say your name was again?” “elton.” “elton. elton what.” “john. elton john.”

ray is cute af. also the transcendental moment when he hands elton the envelope with bernie’s lyrics in it.

“one frothy coffee, no froth.”

jamie is so cute what the heckkkk

singing streets of loredo in a cafe is so wholesome and adorable

holy sHIT BORDER SONG IS STARTING

bernie and elton are literally so cute together as friends omg

also completely digging these like early 70s silk scarf things.

“yeah I could just take those songs and leave if you like,”

“what about the fact that you’re a f*g...your little friend here...is a homosexual.”

bernie not caring whether or not elton is is gay is Peak Pure ���

“oH fUcK”

when they stumble home drunk. the cuteness I can’t.

“you are a ssshhHHITT hot piano player, you have an aMAZING voice, and I’m telling you there is something special that happens...when you sing our songs.”

the way the two handle elton’s leaning in for a kiss is SO GOOD and I could write an entire essay on it. “we became inseparable after that. the brother I never had.”

“anyway I took his advice. told arabella. she took it quite well actually,” *cut to her throwing his piano out the window* “sHe KiLlEd mY pIaNo”

your song and everything about that scene is perfection. that’s all I have to say.

“you can’t just sPRING the troubadour on me.”

“put on a great

fucking

show. and just don’t kill yourself with drugs?”

amoreena is so good how didn’t I realize this until now!

doug flirting w/bernie kills me every time.

“ooh dude. what the hell’re you wearing?”

“my stage gear.”

*bernie stumbles in drunk* “reggie! reggie reggie. neil diamond is at the bar he’s talkin to leon russell and half the fuckin beach boys eh??”

“jesus sHIT bernie,”

that little, “well come on then,” after being yelled by bernie & ray

“please welcome all the way from london, england...”

ELTON JOHN

when he starts singing it’s like the smoothest molasses ever and I am HERE for it.

there’s an interview where taron says, and I quote, “those dungarees made my ass look massive” wholeheartedly agree my guy. but in best way possible

when they start floating

elton’s jacket and the magic that is the entirety of tiny dancer <3 <3

there’s a whole ass bed in a tipi?? what the hell

“so you like the songs then?” “not quite as much as the singer,” OH SHIT THE GAY TENSION

“there are moments in a rockstar’s life that defines who he is...and it’s going to be a wild ride,”

it’s a weird scene to like but I really love the take me to the pilot love scene. the song is so good and perfect for that moment, and they seem genuinely attracted to each other (even though john ends up being a huge dick later)

the way he takes the glasses off

the lil race to get their pants off is weird but it works

elton just seems so happy and content at the end and it’s so refreshing.

when he gets the shoes and the glasses <3

he looks so happy and fulfilled my little boy

why is it so cute when he and Kiki record don’t go breaking my heart

elton stops it the SECOND he sees John oh my goddd

kiki’s little “ough” when she sees john

“elton what’s going on are we going again or should we go for a pint,” *sees john walk into the closet* “yeah no yeah you should go for a pint”

HONKY CAT IS ONE OF IF NOT THE BEST SCENES/SONGS IN THE ENTIRE FILM THERE I SAID IT

cocaine induced head butt of a soccer ball is iconic

why did they have to get rid of rayyyy

the, “best of luck to you elton,” is so bitter yet genuinely well-wishing??

“welp...that was *absolutely* horrible,” is such a mood

the scene where he goes to come out to his dad is so incredibly heartbreaking, especially when it cuts to him in rehab.

taron deserves an oscar just for throwing that chair alone.

“what have you got to do the get a fucking drink around here, eh?” and then he takes a swig from a bottle in the car with john

when he calls his mom to come out. that shit hurts.

“i just hope you realize you’re choosing a life of being alone forever...you’ll never be loved properly.” he opens his mouth. it’s so awful guys. and then he fucking gets punched by john what an absolute dick.

“real love’s hard to come by. so you find a way to cope without it.”

the scene that comes right after that when he’s getting ready for his show and snorts cocaine and takes a swig of a drink really shows how far off the deep end he had gone. it’s heartbreaking, really.

“PEOPLE DON’T PAY TO SEE rEgInALd dWiGhT THEY PAY TO SEE ELTON JOHN. DON’T EVER TELL ME HOW TO DO MY FUCKING JOB.” “WRITE THE FUCKING LYRICS, BERNIE. LET ME DEAL WITH THE REST,” “i’m sorry,” “i know.”

that headdress tho

ok but pinball wizard absolutely slaps and so does the montage with all of his changing outfits

oh my god the drag queen in his room though

NONONONO JOHN IS LITERALLY RIGHT THERE FUCKING CHEATING ON HIM IT IS NOT OKAY.

what an inconvenient time for his mom to waltz in

“and what a shy little boy you were! look at you now.”

“mum you’re ON my GOWN,”

i wish i were as cool as bernie getting out of that car and coming inside

“yEaGhHhH...go get a lil drink. yehyeh,”

get ready for one of the most impactful scenes of 2019 if not the 2010s ladies

“FOR MY NEXT TRICK i’m gonna fucking kill myself.”

again, I could write an entire essay on this but the fact that he is literally hitting rock bottom with his childhood self down there is so impactful and powerful and one of the greatest artistic choices they made in this film. also the cinematography is gorgeous.

and oh, by the way, taron actually performed this underwater. no cgi or special effects. where is his oscar.

john is a dick to him on the stretcher but bernie looks so genuinely concerned for his friend and I love that.

it is absolutely gut wrenching when they pump his stomach.

THE CINEMATOGRAPHY AND ANGLES AND SILHOUETTES WHEN IT GETS TO THE BIG CHORUS PART IS SO SO SO INCREDIBLY GOOD AND AMAZING AND I WILL NEVER, EVER GET OVER IT.

the nurses getting him ready for what was probably his biggest/most iconic performance to date is something so incredible, and such a great choice cinematically, story wise, and really emotion wise too. he was at his absolute rock bottom and did one of if not the most iconic performance a little over 24hrs later, and I think this little part really helps to illustrate that.

taron actually hit that baseball and I’m so proud of him for it.

the liftoff is so great. and then it cuts to him in a plane with smoke on his head which just. ugh.

hot take: elton’s addiction wouldn’t have gotten so bad if he had just gone to bernie’s fucking ranch with him

THE QUEEN OUTFIT IS SO ICONIC IM SORRY

also if this movie doesn’t win the goddamn best costume design I swear to god.

YES BENNIE AND THE JETSSSSS

this is also such a great scene as well omg.

when he flashbacks to his childhood and difficult and also great moments in his life during this sequence. that hit hard.

i feel like no one talks about taron’s arms enough? they as thiccc as his thighs why y’all sleeping on them

“You signed a contract with me years ago, so I’ll still be collecting my 20% long after you’ve killed yourself.” that’s cold as hell.

when he throws that glass at the door. and then victim of love starts playing straight afterwards UGH dexter fletcher you need to STOP and CALM DOWN

listen I don’t know elton was thinking and/or feeling in terms of life and his sexuality when he decided to marry renata but can we talk about his wedding outfit?? wtffff it’s so gay and if you don’t see it you’re blind.

the look his mom gives him I’m DEAD

they literally had separate rooms this was not a normal marriage. the breakfast scene is so sad though.

“did being married make you happy?” “not really, I’m gay.” hands down one of the most iconic lines in the entire movie.

why does he have sperm on this firework suit coat.

“you know I am so sick of running away from who I am.”

the way his voice wavers and cracks is not okay. and neither is his mom twisting everything around so that she’s made out to be the victim. and don’t cry in the bathroom elton please buddy. you’ll be okay.

“campaign to kill yourself is going well, eh?”

“when did you give up? if you don’t care about yourself how can you expect anyone else to...it’s not weak to ask for help.”

goodbye yellow brick road is such a beautiful song and scene and why didn’t we get Jamie to sing more I mean come on he does so incredibly well in this scene.

also I didn’t really realize that they flipped a few verses around for the movie. and elton yelling and screaming at bernie as he leaves is so powerful.

elton yelling at himself.

this is also when he has a heart attack?? chest infection?? I don’t really know but he falls down the stairs and Mr. Dick Manager John makes him continue to perform.

and there he is in the first scene’s costume. singing the rest of yellow brick road.

and there he goes. off to rehab. a full circle moment. good for him for finally taking control of his life and addictions.

“yeah but I started acting like a c*nt in 1975. I just forgot to stop.”

“maybe I should’ve tried to be more ordinary.” his grandmother walks in. “he was never ordinary.” my. heart. can. not. take. this.

this next scene where he talks to everyone in his mind is incredibly powerful and I will shout it from the rooftops until the end of time.

“my problem is that I believed you loved me. and you’re incapable of it.” the SHADE

“actually I think I’m okay with strange.”

BERNIE COMES IN MY LOVE

“bernie...I never told you how much I need you.” shit fam here comes the waterworks

“you just need to remember who you are. and be okay with it.”

and then his childhood self comes in. “I haven’t been reggie Dwight for years.” “when are you going to hug me.” he engulfs his young self in a hug. this is one of the best moments of the film and I am now full on crying.

I can’t get over how wholesome bernie’s visit is with Elton. the sweetest thing ever.

“you’re not scared you’re not good without it, you’re scared to feel again...this is the part you gotta do on your own. these...need music”

“thank you bernie.” “you’re my brother.” <3

and then he finally sits down to write again. and it’s pure magic.

I’m still standing is a a feat of what he’s been through the entire movie. finally, he’s sober, he’s accepting of himself/his sexuality, and is getting to a better place. plus, it mirrors the original music video, and is everything I’ve ever needed and more. *the* perfect scene and song to end upon.

he’s so happy at the end. and then the epilogue starts and says he’s been sober for 28 years and counting, set up an aids charity, still writes with bernie, met his husband David 25 years ago and is finally loved properly (rip my heart out of my chest, why don’t you), has two sons and is retiring from touring. and and the I’m gonna love me again plays with him and taron and it’s just such a perfect song to end, and I can’t.

so. those are my thought while watching rocketman for the 4th time in total, 2nd time this week. sorry that’s it’s so long. I just love this film so much. anyways, it’s almost 2am and I’m an emotional wreck. I’m gonna go cry and go to bed now. thanks for making it this far. :) <3

[glados-kisser]

Tag meme

I was tagged by @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond ! tysm ;;

Nickname: Nova most commonly!

Zodiac: Gemini

Height: 5′5.5 because middle of the road is how it be

Time: 19:58 as of now! I think the zone is “ UTC -5:00 / -4:00″? It’s eastern US ^^;

Favorite band/artist: OOOOooooh hmm.... I really like a lot of artists, but I’ve been on a bit of a sleeping at last kick lately?? Ofc I also really like all the popular / common alt rock artists (like imagine dragons, fob, etc etc!)

Song stuck in my head: Oh none rn actually! partially bc I’m listening to music rn gbdfhdfhfd  but most recently I’ve had a few songs cycling through my head? Cups by Anna Kendrick, Stronger by The Score, and andy you’re a star by uhhhh....the killers maybe??

Last movie I saw: Captain Marvel! I loved it sm...

Last thing I googled: Oh no...this is a little shameful- “what is my timezone“. I KNOW MY TIMEZONE I SWEAR I JUST WASNT SURE IF THERE WAS A DIFFERENT NAME FOR IT

Other blogs:  oh uhhhh yea, a couple! @oceanic-year was a blog i made to document my trip through the carribbean, but i ended up abandoning it- i havent deleted it because :( memories... @clipped-warboy was my mad max blog for awhile! i had a character and everything - a friend of mine used to RP with me :> @wardgrave is my oc blog for my undead priest on wow! i still adore him tbh @coal-and-claws was an oc blog i was making for a worgen character on wow, but I never ended up doing anything with him ;; @thordude which ALSO doesnt have any content! i made that one bc i wanted the url becos thor is my...brother.....my best boy.... @mayal-ama-legacy is my swtor blog! @corvus-dnd is my Top Secret DM Inspiration Blog that I reblog art / stuff to that I want to look at later for inspiration for any campaigns I’m running! Do I get asks:   Not usually! Sometimes I’ll get the “send this to ten people you like seeing on your dash” asks, and those are lovely to see! 

Why did I choose this username:  So for YEARS I’d been rainbowbuttocks, but that was the url I chose when I was 14 and a young bastard, so I actually just recently changed it! I’ve been playing around in latin with a friend for RP purposes, and I ADORE crows! I chose sanctus bc....aesthetic but it’s holy-crow which is also a pun on holy-cow!

Following:  oh gosh, uhhhh 1,120 ! I like seeing Frequent Content

Average amount of sleep: I’ve been trying to get at least 8 hours! If I’m gonna be unemployed i might as well soak all the sleep i want from it

Lucky number: hmm....26 was always one i went for when i was 13? but that was because it was my age doubled, so now I suppose that’d be 38 :p

What I am wearing:  a dishonored t shirt (a fancy one with the heart n stuff on it!) and a pair of shorts that are missing their button lol

Dream job:  tv show writer!! but im a bastard who doesnt know how to do anything so!

Dream trip:   I’d love to go to bolivia to see salar de uyuni, but idk about that so i suppose i’d love to go back to the carribbean someday??

Favorite food:  salad rolls (or spring rolls?? the rice wrapper ones that arent fried) and pad thai are both BIG comfort foods <3

Instruments you play: I used to play the piano a little, but I don’t anymore :’)

Eye color:  Grey-green !

Hair color:  bbbbbrown babeyyyyyy! growing it out again though and might go for that sweet sweet red :o

Describe your aesthetics: Overgrown ruins, untouched by civilization for untold years and left to be reclaimed. Also, bones!  

Languages you speak: just english because im bad :( I know a TINY AMOUNT of german and EVEN LESS spanish. I’d love to learn arabic someday though!

Most iconic song: Okay, it took me a moment, but Sober Up by AJR is my THEME!  I moved to the East Coast with my sister recently, and I left...I left everyone behind. I’ve been in a rut, because I haven’t known how to make new friends- or how to connect with my old ones.  “Goodbye, goodbye, I said to my bestest buds. We said that we’d keep in touch, and we did our best.” Idk, it’s Big Mood for me and makes my chest hurt a little- but in a good way I think.

Random fact:  ah, hmm.. I’ve got a pet tarantula named Chimera! She’s a chilean rose hair and is aboutttttt 7 years old at this point ! I also have a plant in my windowsill named Daud, and he’s doing...ok. I’m a little worried that I’ve fucked up with him somehow, and don’t know how to help him get better ;;

Tagging: @mizushimo @kanine @didi-is-a-lamer @floofytrainnerd ! I...am Sure that there are other folks I’d like to tag & just forgot, so if you see this and think “wait, I would like to do this!” absolutely feel free to be tagged by me fgdngfdg also @ the guys I tagged there’s no pressure to do this if you arent comfy ! anyway!

[babyprime]

I got tagged by @drewcareymore thx bruv!!

A song you like with a color in the title: Blue by The Birthday Massacre

A song you like with a number in the title: Year 3 Class C-14, Chiyoko Kubozono's Joining of the Cabinet by PowaPowa P feat. Rin

A song that reminds you of summertime: Crooked Teeth by Death Cab for Cutie

A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about: n/a 

A song that needs to be played LOUD: Ring of Fire by Social Distortion

A song that makes you want to dance: Welcome to the Party by Diplo

A song to drive to: Purple Lamborghini by Skrillex and Rick Ross

A song about drugs or alcohol: An Idiot’s Drug by Nashimoto feat. Miku

A song that makes you happy: A Certain Romance by Arctic Monkeys

A song that makes you sad: Rockbell by Honeyworks (seriously FUCK this song?? its so cute but i cry every time)

A song that you never get tired of: Primadonna Girl by Marina and the Diamonds

A song from your preteen years: Imaginary by Evanescence (i loved this song so much wtf)

One of your favorite 80s songs: Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler

A song that you would love played at your wedding: Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Iron & Wine 

A song that is a cover by another artist: Love Yourself, Halsey version

One of your favorite classical songs: i dont really like instrumentals sorry

A song that you would sing a duet on karaoke: PLEASE sing Islands in the Stream with me im like 70 years old

A song from the year that you were born: Cotton Eyed Joe 

A song that makes you think about life: Jishou Mushoku by Miku

A song that has many meanings to you: Love Like You like Rebecca Sugar

A favorite song with a person’s name in the title: Sayoko by MikitoP feat. Miku

A song that you think everybody should listen to: Gods and Monsters by Lana del Rey

A song by a band you wish were still together: Planetary GO! by MCR

A song by an artist no longer living: Swinging on a Star by Fran Sinatra

A song that makes you want to fall in love: Closer by The Tiny 

A song that breaks your heart: Proof of Life by Rin but especially the covers where they get super emotional.... im dying squirtle

A song by an artist with a voice you love: Girl With One Eye by Florence and the Machine

A song that you remember from your childhood: All The Small Things by Blink 182

A song that reminds you of yourself: Big Houses by Squalloscope

i tag @therealnotrealtaako