#i would maybe put it in the top half of the album

[thomstrainers]

seeing “the bends” (song, not album) hate always confused me (i saw it even before i heard the song and then i listened to it and was like ???) but then i found out that it was written during the pablo honey era and i’m like OHHHHHH

[louisupdates]

By Ed Power | Sat Nov 30 2024 - 05:15

During the pandemic the songwriter and producer James Vincent McMorrow would rise early, go for a run and write songs for Louis Tomlinson, of One Direction.

“I actually made half of a record for him,” he says. Tomlinson’s team “had a lot of songs but maybe not a lot that he was as into as he wanted to be. I think they were maybe looking for a weirdo. So they reached out to me. I love him. He’s a fascinating human being. I absolutely loved making that album,” adds McMorrow, who is about to start a tour of Ireland.

When it comes to potential collaborators with a boy band megastar, McMorrow’s name is not the first that springs to mind. He’s an indie songwriter whose open-veined, falsetto-driven pop has been compared to that of folkies such as Bon Iver and Sufjan Stevens. But Tomlinson was a fan of the Dubliner’s beautifully wrought music. He wasn’t alone: Drake famously sampled McMorrow on his 2016 track Hype.

One of the tracks they wrote together, The Greatest, would serve as the opener to Tomlinson’s second LP, Faith in the Future. As is often the way with the music industry, the rest are in a vault somewhere. Still, for McMorrow the opportunity to work with a pop star was about more than simply putting his craft in front of a wider audience. The call from Tomlinson’s team had come at a low point for the Irishman, who had become mired in confusion and doubt after signing to a major label for the first time in his career.

Executives at Columbia Records had recognised potential in McMorrow as an artist who bridged the divide between folk and pop. The fruits of that get-together would see daylight in September 2021 as the excellent Grapefruit Season LP, on which McMorrow teamed up with Paul Epworth, who has also produced Adele and Florence Welch.

The album was a beautifully gauzy rumination on the birth of his daughter and the muggy roller coaster of first-time parenthood. It went top 10 in Ireland and breached the top 100 in the UK. Yet the experience of working within the major-label system was strange for McMorrow, who at that point had been performing and recording for more than a decade. He didn’t hate it. But he knew he didn’t ever want to do it again.

“It was a weird time. I stopped touring in 2017. My daughter was born in 2018. I signed with Columbia Records at the same time and made a record that ... There were moments within it I was proud of. But fundamentally, I think if I was being very honest, I would say that I definitely got lost in the weeds of what the music industry wanted for me rather than what I wanted for myself.”

[…]

McMorrow grew up in Malahide, the well-to-do town in north Co Dublin; as a secondary-school student he suffered debilitating shyness. In 2021 he revealed that he had struggled with an eating disorder at school, ending up in hospital (“Anorexia that progressed into bulimia”). He was naturally retiring, not the sort to crave the spotlight. But he was drawn to music. “It was definitely a difficult journey,” he says. He wasn’t alone in that. “The musicians that tend to cut through and make it ... A lot of my friends, musicians that are successful, they’re not desperate for the stage.”

The Tomlinson collaboration was part of his strange relationship with the mainstream music industry. It went back to McMorrow’s third LP, Rising Water, from 2016. A move away from his earlier folk-pop, the project had featured engineering from Ben Ash, aka Two Inch Punch, a producer who had worked with chart artists such as Jessie Ware, Sia and Wiz Khalifa.

That was followed by the Drake sample in 2016 and by McMorrow writing the song Gone, which was at one point set to be recorded by a huge pop star whom he’d rather not identify.

“Gone is the red herring of red herrings in my entire career. I wrote that song for other people. I didn’t write it for myself. The whole reason I signed to Columbia Records and I had all these deals was because of Gone. I was very happy tipping away in my weird little world. And then I wrote that song, and a lot of bigger artists came in to try to take it,” he says.

“I won’t name names. There were recordings of it done. It got very close to being a single for someone else. I would go in these meetings with all these labels, and I would play it for them – just to play. Not with any sense of ‘This is my song.’ And they were, like, ‘You’re out of your mind if you don’t take this song. This is the song that will make you the thing that is the thing.’ And I was, like, ‘You’re wrong.’ For a year I basically was, like, ‘I disagree.’ And if you go in a room with enough people enough times and they tell you that you’re crazy ... I loved the song, but I did not love it for me. I never felt I fit. There was a little part of me that wanted to believe.”

As he had predicted, Gone wasn’t a hit. He received a lot of other strange advice, including that he cash in on the mercifully short-lived craze for NFTs by putting out an LP as a watermarked internet file. All of that was swirling in his brain when Tomlinson got in touch. To be able to step outside his own career was exactly what McMorrow needed.

“With Louis it was like boot camp. I had a very limited time with him. I had to wake up every morning, go for a run, write a song in my head, go to the studio. We made songs all day long. It lit a fire in my head again. I loved the process. I like sitting and talking to someone like Louis, who’s had this unbelievably fascinating lifestyle – so much tragedy in his life,” he says. Tomlinson’s mother and sister died within three years of each other, and his 1D bandmate Liam Payne died in October. “So many things have happened to him. I chatted to him and then write constantly. That was a lovely process.”

Because life is strange and full of contrasts McMorrow ended up working with Tomlinson around the same time that he was producing the Dublin postpunk “folk-metal” band The Scratch, on their LP Mind Yourself. “Totally different animals,” he says. “The Scratch album was an intense period in the studio of that real old-school nature of making music. A lot of fights. A lot of pushing back against ideas. A lot of different opinions. And you have to respect everybody’s opinions and find the route through.”

During his brief time on a major label, McMorrow was reminded of the music industry’s weakness for short-term thinking. In 2019, the business was obsessed with streaming numbers and hot-wiring the Spotify algorithm so that your music posted the highest possible number of plays.

“Everyone was driven by stats. ‘This song has 200 million streams.’ ‘That song has 400 million streams.’ I went into my meetings with Columbia Records ... the day I had my first big marketing meeting was the day my catalogue passed a billion streams, which, for someone like me, who started where I started, was a day where I should be popping champagne corks. Instead they immediately started talking about how they have artists that have one song that has two billion streams. So by their rule of thumb I was half as successful as one song by one artist on their label.”

Five years later he believes things have changed. He points to Lankum, a group who will never set Spotify alight yet who have carved a career by doing their own thing and not chasing the short-term goal of a place on the playlist. They are an example to other musicians, McMorrow says.

“I was in Brooklyn, doing two nights, a week and a half ago. In the venue across the road from where we were, pretty much, Lankum were doing two nights and had [the Dublin folk artist] John Francis Flynn opening for them. Those are two artists that, if you were to look at their stats, you wouldn’t be, like, ‘These are world-beating musicians.’ You start aggregating to this stat-based norm and you miss bands like Lankum, bands like The Mary Wallopers, people like John Francis Flynn.”

McMorrow is looking forward to his forthcoming Irish tour, which he sees as another leg of his journey to be his best possible self.

“The last two, three years have been a process of building it back to a version of me that actually made me happy rather than making me cry at night-time – a version that was making music because I liked it. Within this industry there’s so much outside noise. It’s quite overwhelming. I was overwhelmed. It’s been nice to reset the clock.”

In November 2022, McMorrow posted this now deleted Instagram post:

Text: late 2021 I got a phone call asking me if I wanted to come to London to meet @louist91 and possibly write some songs. A few years ago he released a statement talking about changing his path musically, instead of the immediate search for hits, he’d start with music he genuinely loved and see where it got him. Seems like a simple and obvious thing to say, but considering the amount of people just chasing hits with little regard for vision or artistry, a statement like that struck me when I read it. So I was excited to meet him and see what he was about. First day we met we all wrote Common People, second day we wrote Lucky Again. In December of last year we went back in again, finished those ones, wrote and produced 3 others that are also on this album. It was the studio line-up of dreams, @mrfredball @jmoon1066, @riley_mac. Shouts to Louis for letting us do our thing, letting a dork like me come write some weird lyrics and weird melodies, trust us to shape the vision that he had. These last few years were dark at times, but it was moments like that where I remembered why I’m obsessed w music and why it’s all I’ve ever understood. incredibly proud of the work, Holding on to Heartache is genuinely one of my most favourite songs I’ve ever been a part of.

Also I was reading something about the album and it mentioned something about the gospel choir on the bridge of that song… nah man thats’s just 200 stacked of me singing super super high in the studio out back of Fred’s house😂]

[avatar-anna]

I feel like we haven’t seen much of youngmom reader super pregnant with her 7 babies??? Maybe I just don’t remember but I’d love to see y/n throughout her pregnancies! If not it’s okay I love ALL YOUR WORK!! ❤️

Baby Fever

Young Dad! Harry Styles x Young Mom! Reader Masterlist

i was too tired to include charlie. sorry!

Simone

Y/n sighed as she looked over her figure in the mirror, her shoulders slumping at the sight of her unbuttoned jeans and swollen belly. Looking down, she glared pointedly at the bump, saying, "Damn you, Harry."

She tried to button up her jeans one last time to no avail, then fell back on the bed behind her. It was Harry's, Y/n didn't feel comfortable enough to call it hers too, even though he insisted his home was hers now. The mattress was plush enough for her to sink into, and the sheets were softer than soft, she just felt like she was a guest staying in someone else's home.

It didn't help that she was alone most days. If Y/n had thought Harry had a busy schedule before all of this, she sorely underestimated the hectic schedule he had on a daily basis. The first half of her pregnancy, Harry was gone on tour promoting One Direction's latest album. When he came back to London, he was gone almost all day for interviews and late night talk shows and performances at radio stations. Work seemed neverending, and when Harry did eventually trudge through his front door, he was pretty much dead on his feet.

It was a weird situation that they were in, but nothing about their relationship had ever been typical.

Not really caring what kind of important meeting or interview he was having, Y/n pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she landed on the right person.

"Y/n! It's good to hear from you! How've you been?"

"Put him on the phone, Louis. I need to talk to him. Please," she said, adding please after realizing how harsh she sounded.

Louis was quick to do as she asked, though. Y/n could hear him rustling and calling out until he eventually found her boyfriend.

There was a time when Y/n didn't think she could call Harry that. She'd always liked him. Since the day they met, they were both absolutely smitten with each other, anyone could see that. But when she found out she was pregnant, things shifted. Y/n and Harry's relationship catapulted into chaos, and before they could even have the boyfriend-girlfriend conversation, they were suddenly nine months away from being parents.

Over time, they got to that place they'd been in before Y/n got pregnant. They had the boyfriend-girlfriend conversation, and now they were happy.

Well, for the most part.

"Hey, love, what's up? Everything okay?"

The sound of Harry's voice soothed and frustrated her all at once. Tears, which had been an unwelcome side effect of her pregnancy, began to well in her eyes.

"My jeans don't fit anymore."

There was silence between them, Y/n's words floating between them until it was eventually broken by Harry's laughter.

"It's not funny!" she insisted, even though she began to giggle alongside him.

"Baby," Harry said once his laughter subsided. "Why are you trying to put jeans on anyway? Are you going somewhere?"

"No, I've just gained so much weight. I feel like a blob, and you're partly to blame."

Y/n knew the baby bump was coming, she knew there would come a time when jeans and tops wouldn't fit and she'd have to buy clothes that were more accommodating to the baby growing in her belly. She just didn't expect to be this emotional about it. It was probably just the hormones.

"I'm sorry, baby," Harry said, a note of seriousness in his voice that Y/n appreciated even though she knew she was being slightly unreasonable. "I still think you're the prettiest girl I've ever laid eyes on."

Groans of protest and disgust erupted from Harry's side of the phone, followed by teasing at Harry's sappy words. "I came in here for privacy! Don't complain when you hear shit you didn't want to hear!" he told his bandmates. He mumbled something about never getting a moment alone anymore and nosy pricks, which made Y/n giggle as he presumably found a new place to talk to her privately.

In a hushed voice, he said, "I don't like it when you cry, baby."

"I wasn't planning on it," she sniffled. "I know I should've anticipated this, but now my belly sticks out and nothing fits me and I look horrible."

"No you don't," Harry said, not missing a beat. He didn't have to see her to know she looked just as gorgeous as she always did. Baby bump or no baby bump. "Put your sweats back on, love. I'll bring home dinner and we'll watch a movie."

"Really?" Y/n asked, and Harry could all but imagine her watery smile. "Because the baby's craving hot wings, and I know you don't like them."

Shaking his head, he promised, "Don't worry. Text me what you want. I'll be home soon."

"I—Thank you. B—Bye."

Harry's breath hitched, his phone still pressed to his ear even after she'd hung up. He knew what Y/n had been about to say, at least he was ninety percent sure he knew. He could only hope she was going to say, "I love you." Neither of them had said it to each other before, not wanting to get lost or caught up in the emotions of having to baby together. But Harry knew. He'd known for some time now. He just didn't want to scare her by just how deep his feelings went.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Harry went back into the green room where the rest of the boys were. He took the ribbing they gave him for being "smitten" and "whipped." But he didn't care. Y/n was waiting for him to bring her dinner, and that was really all he could think about as the minutes ticked by until he could go home.

*.*

Collette

Y/n couldn't help the slacking of her jaw as she watched her husband.

Sure, she'd seen him a number of different ways—working out, doing handiwork around the house, performing onstage, dressed for a red carpet—but here, as he wore a tiara and held a tiny teacup with pretend tea in it and sat across from his daughter, Y/n had never been more turned on in her life.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Yesterday it was the way her husband had offered to go to the grocery store for her, and just an hour ago it was how he hummed to himself while he made breakfast for her and Simone. Shirtless. By now, Y/n was fairly used to her attraction to Harry, but it was as if every little thing he did turned her on.

She'd read about this in a couple articles online and pregnancy books, that some pregnant people sometimes became extremely horny due to the hormonal changes happening in their bodies. When Y/n was pregnant with Simone, she never really...felt that way. Perhaps it was because she was so nervous and overwhelmed by the situation at hand, but now she was feeling it tenfold.

Needing to distract herself, Y/n went upstairs to the nursery to fold laundry. To nest, as Harry liked to tease. They'd been working on the nursery together for weeks in preparation for their second baby, and now it was nearly finished. Y/n and Harry let Simone pick out some of the decorations, like the fuzzy lion rug and Winnie the Pooh themed pillows and pick out toys she thought the baby might like. And now it was pretty much done, all that was needed was for the baby to be born.

Y/n had gone upstairs to distract herself, to keep Harry out of her line of sight so she wouldn't openly drool in front of Simone, but now she was alone with her imagination which was starting to run a little wild. She folded the baby clothes carefully as her mind stubbornly wandered. Harry's hands, his arms, his broad shoulders and sharp jaw. He was all she could think about, and the more she thought about him, the more she wanted him.

Would he want me?

They'd never really hooked up when Y/n was pregnant. Things were different then, more complicated, but Y/n didn't think Harry would be into her when she was significantly more round than usual. She didn't feel sexy or attractive, and she could only imagine Harry felt the same. They kissed and cuddled in bed, but since they found out she was pregnant, they didn't do much more than that. Y/n could only guess it was because she was showing now.

Later that afternoon, Y/n was in bed resting, the baby in her belly moving around a little too much to be comfortable. Simone was napping, and Harry was taking care of some things downstairs. Overall, it was a pretty relaxing day.

Minus the horniness, but Y/n tried to push that down.

She'd been doing a pretty good job of it until Harry burst into the room, sweaty and grimy and without a shirt, the article of clothing in question in his hands and covered in dirt and oil stains.

A flare of heat went straight to Y/n's cheeks as she subtly crossed one leg over the other, her stare zeroing in on her husband's chest. Before she could be caught, she blinked, meeting his gaze.

"What...What happened to you?"

"Your car needed an oil change," Harry said, as if that explained everything. "Might have run into some hiccups along the way, but it should be good to go."

It was enough to shake her from her lust-filled haze. "Why couldn't we just take it into the shop?"

Harry shrugged again as he headed for the bathroom, ditching his clothes as he went. Was he trying to kill me? you thought helplessly, your crossed legs doing nothing to soothe the ache between them.

"I did it. It's fine." Then the sound of the shower filled the bedroom, and steam slowly began to roll past the bathroom door. "The baby still kicking?"

His voice was echoey and faint, and Y/n didn't need much encouragement to imagine her husband all soapy and wet as he rinsed off. He didn't even invite her to join him. If this was what pregnancy did to her sex life, she was never getting pregnant again.

"Y—Yeah. A little."

"I'm sorry, Mama. You know, I read something about babies kicking at this stage. It..."

Y/n wanted to listen, but she just couldn't. She wanted him so bad she could barely think straight. And it frustrated her to no end that Harry probably didn't feel the same. He just breezed right past her when he came into their bedroom, barely even looked up as he shuffled into the bathroom for his shower. Every inch of her body was lined with need for him, and he...he just kept ignoring her.

Harry was still talking as he shuffled out of the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips. The man standing before her was one big walking, talking tease—rivulets of water running over ridiculously prominent muscles, tattoos that she just wanted to touch, or kiss, or maybe lick, skin slightly pink from the shower, and that towel that seemed to be hanging onto him by a thread. If only she could just—

"Mama? Everything okay?"

Blushing, Y/n tried to pretend it wasn't taking everything in her to not jump him. "Yep. Perfect."

"Are you sure?" he asked skeptically. "You look a little flushed. Should I get you a cold towel—"

Y/n couldn't take it anymore. Unhindered by her baby bump, she sat up and surged forward, planting her hands firmly on Harry's shoulders and kissing him. To her surprise, he didn't recoil and instead rested one hand on her waist and one in her hair, pulling her closer to him.

His skin, still warm and a little damp from his shower, had never felt so delicious against hers. She wanted him to rip her clothes off, she wanted him to use a little force and push her back onto the bed, she wanted him to be rough with her. Tightening her grip, Y/n sunk her teeth into Harry's lip, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him.

"Mama, maybe we should—"

"Fuck, nevermind," she huffed, pushing Harry away from her. Falling back onto the bed, Y/n tried to make herself comfortable. She would've put her back to him and rested on her side, but her belly wouldn't have made that very possible.

"Y/n?"

"Go away."

"Baby, what—what's wrong? I just—"

Y/n, who had been pointedly not looking at Harry, glared harshly at him. "I get it. You find me repulsive now that I'm pregnant, which, can I just say is despicable—"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, confusion furrowing his brow.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Y/n wrapped her arms around herself. "You won't—I mean you haven't—Okay, I'm just gonna say it. I'm horny all the fucking time, and you're—you barely even touch me!"

"That's not—" Harry sighed, running a hand over his face. "That's not even remotely true, Mama."

"Don't Mama me," Y/n said, not believing him entirely.

"Let's get one thing clear, Y/n. I don't find you repulsive," Harry said, inching closer to Y/n on the bed. "I—I don't even think that's possible."

"Then why won't you have sex with me?" Y/n asked, and when he began to laugh, she swatted at his arm. "Don't laugh at me! You don't get it!"

Before she could even think to protest, Harry hauled Y/n on his lap. She tried to stubbornly push him off, but he held her steady, on hand tilting her chin to look at him. "I've been worried about the baby."

"Huh?"

"The baby, darling. I didn't want to, like, hurt you or her or anything by, you know...going too hard." Harry's cheeks flushed, but he pressed on. "You really thought it was because I didn't want to be with you."

Y/n's nod was shame-filled at the hurt in his voice. "I can barely get you to wrap your arms around me, and these hormones are driving me absolutely insane, H."

Gently, Harry kissed the top of his wife's cheekbone. Smoothing back some of her hair, he said, "You honestly think I could resist you, Mama? It's been torture."

"Yeah?"

"Baby," he said, leaning Y/n back toward the bed. "You really think you're not an absolute dream right now? You think I don't want my mouth all over these gorgeous tits? You think I don't want my hands all over you? You think I'm not aching for you all the time?"

"I didn't think—"

"If you think for one second that I don't find you irresistible, then I'm a terrible husband." Harry made sure Y/n was comfortable against the pillows before kissing her once, then pushed the t-shirt she wore past her chest. "I'm sorry, Mama. I've just been looking out for the baby, I swear. Let me make it up to you?"

"H—How?"

"We'll be gentle. For now," he added at Y/n's squawk of protest. "I really don't want to do anything wrong, so let me just love on you, okay? Let me show you how fucking breathtaking you are."

Harry kissed a line down Y/n's entire body, and she struggled to keep it together when he made it to her thighs. Her breaths suddenly became unsteady, Harry's chuckle making her squirm when he finally moved her underwear aside.

Before he went any further, though, Y/n called his name, making him pause. "You really think I'm beautiful. Even with the belly?"

Eyes softening, Harry shimmied back up the bed to kiss Y/n on the lips. His mouth was soft against hers, but firm, a promise in them that she accepted happily. Harry's tongue was both familiar and reassuring against hers, warming her up from within.

"Believe me when I say that I've never seen anyone more beautiful than you, Y/n," he murmured. "I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise."

Blushing, Y/n beamed before kissing Harry repeatedly all over his face. "I love you, I love you, I love you," she said. "Now I really need you to fuck me."

Chuckling, Harry pushed his hair out of his face. "Let's start with make love, okay?"

Y/n wanted to pout, but she knew that was perhaps the safest option. It was sensible of Harry to look out for the baby, but now he had some making up to do. So she nodded and settled further into the pillows, kissing her husband once more before letting him worship her.

*.*

Maeve and Julian

"Just like that, Mama. That's perfect!"

Raising an eyebrow at her husband, she asked, "Are you even taking pictures of my face?"

Harry peeked his head from behind the camera. "Well...not right now, but this shot is perfect, I promise. Just a couple more seconds."

Y/n humored Harry just as he asked. He'd been really set on doing an at-home pregnancy photoshoot. Nothing extravagant, just her in a pair of jeans and a bouquet of flowers. Y/n of course said yes, but perhaps she was a tiny bit incentivized by a bubble bath and a back rub from her husband.

She tried to remain still, but then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. "Simone! Easy!"

Harry looked over to his daughter. Simone played on the lawn where Harry decided the photoshoot would take place, spinning around and around in circles until she fell down in a heap of giggles. The second time she'd done it made Y/n nervous Simone would make herself sick, but Harry put a hand up to keep her where he wanted her.

"Come here, peanut! Let's take a picture with mummy," he called out, beckoning Simone over.

Simone rushed over, face flushed and eyes bright. She looked so much like Harry in that moment—big, squinty eyes, cheeky smile, crinkled nose—that Y/n nearly did a double take.

Setting down the bouquet of flowers, Y/n quickly shrugged on the loose robe she'd worn before Harry insisted on her taking it off. It was light and airy, perfect for the hot flashes she got on occasion, and perfect for what she imagined Harry had in mind until he told her his idea.

"Just trust the vision, Mama, he'd said before offering to untie the strings himself.

Once it was on, she reached for Simone and hoisted her up. Y/n ignored her husband's warning, opting to kiss her daughter's cheek instead. It was so important to Y/n that Simone didn't feel left out or upset about a new sibling when Y/n and Harry found out they were pregnant with Collette.

So far Simone had been positive about having another baby sister in the house, but Y/n was still cautious, still conscious of her oldest daughter's feelings now that she was pregnant again. And baby bump seemed to be growing bigger by the day, and she wanted to hold and cuddle and play with her daughter as much as she could before she couldn't do much more than waddle around.

"I'm sitting on the babies!" Simone giggled, making Y/n laugh too. Harry had stopped his protests, which told Y/n that he was back to snapping his pictures.

"What do you think, little melon? Should we get baby Collette in the picture too?" Y/n asked after Harry had snapped photos from a few different angles.

"Will you at least sit down?" Harry asked, exasperated by Y/n trying to overexert herself.

"You worry too much," she told him, but did as he asked anyway after taking Simone from her bouncer.

Collette nestled against Y/n immediately, her little cheek squished and lips puffed out as she rested on her mother's chest. Simone stood over Y/n and Collette, peering down at her sister's face curiously.

"She's sleepy, Mommy," she said, reaching down to gently hold Collette's hand.

"Yeah, it's almost nap time," Y/n told Simone. Then, to Harry, "How are we doing, Daddy? Collette's going down and I have to pump."

"Go ahead and put her down. Simone and I will play for a little bit, won't we, peanut? Maybe take a couple more pictures?"

"Yeah!"

Simone was always game for anything Harry suggested, as if each word that came from her father's mouth was pure gold. Y/n admired how much she loved her dad, but sometimes they could be a troublesome duo, Simone asking for something and Harry giving in without a thought.

After Harry trotted over to help Y/n to her feet, she shuffled inside, heading up to the nursery to lay Collette down for a nap. She planned to set Collette down in her crib, but something made her head for the rocking chair in the opposite corner of the room instead. Settling herself down with the baby, Y/n began to rock back and forth, humming idly as she waited for Collette's eyes to close.

It didn't take long, but Y/n kept on holding her daughter anyway, content to rock back and forth and rest her legs after the trek up the stairs. She'd never admit it to Harry, but being pregnant with two babies instead of one this time around was taking a toll on her much sooner than her other pregnancies. Her husband was already a mother hen when Y/n was pregnant, she didn't need to add fuel to that well-kept fire.

"Isn't that a sight."

Looking up, Y/n found Harry at the foot of the nursery, looking at where Collette slept soundly against her bare chest. Y/n had undone her robe once more for skin-to-skin contact with the baby, something she liked to do when she was alone. It made her feel more connected to Collette somehow, and she found that Collette fell asleep easier that way. It was a lazy afternoon, there wasn't much Y/n needed to worry about—it honestly felt pretty perfect.

"She sleeps better this way," Y/n said by way of explanation.

"I believe it," Harry replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye that Y/n pointedly ignored.

"Where's Simone?" Y/n asked, still rocking.

Harry gestured behind him with his camera. "Downstairs watching a show. We agreed on two episodes before bathtime."

Y/n raised an amused brow at their daughter's negotiation tactics, but decided not to comment on it. "I'll come down in a bit. I still need to put her down and pump."

Grinning, Harry said, "You couldn't get out of that chair, could you?"

"It's a comfortable chair," Y/n said with a shrug, not wanting to let her husband know he was spot on.

"Oh, I know," he said. "I've fallen asleep in that thing more times than I care to admit."

Coming into the room, Harry carefully took Collette from Y/n, kissing her head before laying her down in the crib. Once she was settled and Y/n's clothes were righted once more, Harry reached a hand down to her. She let him help her up, even let him tie up her robe again, resigned to his fussing.

"You need to take it easy. The doctor said early labor is common with twins."

"I know, I am," Y/n reassured. "How can I do anything but take it easy when I have my own personal nurse?"

Harry looked at his wife flatly. "Ha. Ha. Now get your cute butt to our room so you can pump and then help me with bathtime."

"Simone's really quite reasonable—"

"She insists that I do it wrong," Harry said, genuinely confused by his daughter's antics.

Kissing his cheek, Y/n checked on the baby monitor once before leaving the nursery. "I'll be as quick as I can, then I'll show you how it's done."

Harry followed her out, heading for the stairs while Y/n went to their room. "Mum of the year!" he said before jogging down to Simone.

Too right, Y/n thought, a smile spreading across her face.

*.*

Geneva

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, babydoll?"

"How does baby sister get in your belly?"

Y/n's eyes widened as she looked down at where Maeve was pressed against her side. They were relaxing by the pool, watching from the shade as Harry tossed the other kids and splashed around in the shallow end. Maeve had joined in on the fun before, but she'd waded out of the pool a few minutes ago for a break from the sun. Her little cheeks were red, long brown hair stringy from the chlorine. Y/n brushed Maeve's hair away from her face as she tried to come up with an answer. Coming up short, she rested her hand on her protruding belly.

"Why are you asking Maevie?"

"Daddy said baby sister is in your belly," Maeve said, poking Y/n's baby bump with a sun-warmed finger. "But how did it get there?"

"You know...that's a great question," Y/n said, raising her hand to shade her eyes as she looked over to where Harry was waist-deep in the pool. His dark hair was plastered to his neck and shoulders in a curly tangle, water droplets glistening on his tan skin.

To this day, Harry was still the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on. Now that they were stuck at home, he took his brief moments of alone time in the form of working out, but only after baking had gained him a few pounds. Y/n never minded, she loved his body any which way it looked.

Eyes dipping down to his waist and below, she definitely couldn't hide how much she appreciated his body now.

"Mommy!"

Shaking herself out of her stupor, she looked down at Maeve, who was clearly determined to get to the bottom of the baby in her mom's belly.

"Right. Sorry babydoll." Y/n hoisted Maeve onto her lap. "Mommy and Daddy...love each other so much. So...when mommies and daddies love each other, they...make a wish on a shooting star...for a baby."

"Really?"

Y/n tried not to laugh at her own ridiculous response as she nodded. "Of course. And then our wish came true, and in a few months, we'll have baby sister."

"Oh." Maeve seemed to think about it for a moment, a small finger on Y/n's belly. "And you wished for me and JuJu too?"

Y/n nodded, holding Maeve's cheeks in her hands. "Absolutely. We wished so hard we got twins!"

Maeve scampered back to the pool a few minutes later, calling out to Harry to help her put on her water wings so she could jump in the pool. Content to watch all the fun from her lounge chair, Y/n stayed back, smiling faintly at all the giggles and squeals of joy as Harry repeatedly tossed one child after another into the pool.

Now alone, she thought about Maeve's question a little more in-depth. As far as she and Harry were concerned, they were done having kids after the twins. Four kids was just the right amount of chaos, and things were finally getting back to normal—or as normal as they could be amid a global lockdown—after the separation.

Not that anyone else in their family seemed to be, but Y/n and Harry were surprised to find out she was pregnant again. At the time. Of course, in hindsight, there was a night when Harry and Y/n couldn't keep off each other. It had been after the first night they'd really spent together as a couple again, and after that, it was as if a dam had broken and Y/n and Harry were reliving their honeymoon phase.

But surprised as they were, they took it in stride. Both of them were nervous about Y/n having a baby in such serious circumstances, but they would take the proper precautions to ensure her and the baby's safety. They were ready for this, ready to do it all again.

"You know Maeve asked me where babies come from today?" Y/n asked later in the evening.

Everyone except for her and Harry were fast asleep, tuckered out from a long day of playing in the sun. Harry had just come back from tucking the twins in and singing them a song like he always did, and now he and Y/n were side by side in their shared bathroom as they got ready for bed.

"Did she? Wait—Can you help me?" Harry asked, gesturing to his red shoulders and back.

Y/n picked up the aloe lotion she kept around just for this reason and squeezed some into her hand and began spreading it over her husband's back. "Not in those words, but she asked how her baby sister ended up in my belly."

"We've never gotten that question, have we?" he mused. "What did you say?"

"That we wished on a shooting star," Y/n shrugged, then explained her short conversation with their daughter about how babies ended up in bellies.

Harry became quiet for a moment. He'd been listening as she rubbed lotion onto his shoulders, but this was different. No one else would've been able to notice his subtle change in demeanor, but Y/n did. She'd known him long enough to read every shift of his posture and line of his body.

"What is it?" she asked, turning him around to face her.

"I just...I just barely stopped short of wishing on stars to have all this again."

Things didn't immediately go back to normal when Harry moved back in. Y/n put on a good front for the sake of the kids, but it was awkward. Neither of them knew how to act around each other, and it took a few weeks for Y/n to trust that Harry was back for good. Even when they had to quarantine, she worried he'd check out, turn to his music for peace of mind. Harry knew all of his wife's reservations, of course, and he didn't blame her for having them. He'd left, that was a choice he made. At the time, he'd done what he thought was best for his family, but he knew now that he only put more distance between himself and his kids, his wife, and he'd regret every minute they spent apart for a long time.

"I love you, H," Y/n said, cupping his cheek in her hand. It was scratchy under her palm, as Harry had taken to being more lax about shaving during lockdown. "I—We would not be...here if I didn't want this, all of this, with you. You know that, don't you?"

He nodded, eyes closing for just a moment. Harry knew he would've been spending his days in a guest bedroom if Y/n wanted that from him. But they worked past their issues, were still working on them, in some ways.

"I know," he promised. "It just hits me sometimes how lucky I am to have you. Not just as a wife and mother, but you, Y/n. I can't—I couldn't handle a single moment without you."

Looking away, Y/n fanned her face, blushing furiously at the tears that welled in her eyes. "You know I get emotional at the drop of a hat, you ass."

Harry merely smiled, letting the somber moment pass. Taking her hands in his, he led her out of the bathroom. "Doesn't make what I said any less true."

Rolling her eyes, Y/n said, "Whatever. Let's go back to talking about how you played mermaids for two whole hours with Simone and Collette."

"I still don't really get it," Harry said, pulling back the fluffy comforter of their bed back. "The girls changed the color of their tails every two minutes. And why does a mermaid need to control fire? Talking to animals I get, but what good is fire underwater?"

Harry looked genuinely perplexed, but Y/n could only laugh. Her husband indulged in almost every one of his daughters' whims, and games where he had to pretend to be a mythical creature was no different. She wouldn't be surprised if packages filled with mermaid paraphernalia arrived in the mail within the next few days so that everyone could really get into character.

She didn't think it often, but right then, Y/n wondered what people would make of the Harry Styles pondering the continuity of his daughters' favorite pool game.

*.*

Natalia

Harry: At the grocery store. Need anything?

Y/n: Your dick, please.

Harry: So...is that in the same aisle as the condoms or...?

Y/n: Don't be mean. I need you.

Harry: That's why I'm going to the store, baby. You asked me to pick up snacks for you this morning for your cravings.

Y/n: I changed my mind. The kids are napping and/or playing in their rooms and/or watching tv.

Y/n: Come fuck me.

Y/n: Please???

Harry: As soon as I get home I'm all yours, baby. I promise.

Y/n sent an image

Y/n: You're really saying no?

Harry: Mama...

Harry: That's from the pregnancy shoot we did.

Y/n: Ass. I'm putting my clothes back on.

Harry: Don't you dare.

Harry: You really want me to abandon the cart? I was just grabbing the pizza bagels you liked.

Y/n is typing...

Y/n: Get the pizza bagels. THEN come home and fuck me.

Harry: Got it. Get ready for me, Mama.

Y/n: !!!

[lovelybee666]

Hiii i wanted to ask you if you can make a yandere smiling critters x female smiling critter cat reader who loves sleep?

I love how you write,💗 good job! If you can't place the order, I will understand!

Sorry if I wrote something wrong, English is not my first language.😭

Autor's note: I'm going to say three things, the first is that English, just like you, is not my first language XD (that's why sometimes something is not understood what i write) second is that thanks to this request I finally have motivation =D and third is that I will divide this into three parts (because I am lazy and leave everything half done /hj)

YANDERE!SMILING CRITTERS X FEM!CAT SMILING CRITTER!READER WHO LOVES TO SLEEP HCS

(part 2 and 3 coming soon!)

DOGDAY

• Dogday sometimes thinks you're a distant relative of Catnap.

• I even imagine that sometimes he sees Catnap's back and thinks it's you painted purple.

• Anyway, he thinks that you are very adorable and from time to time he sleeps with you (he would do it all the time but he can't since he is the leader of the Smiling Critters)

• He likes to comb your hair when you sleep and sometimes he even tickles you a little.

• If you sleep on his shoulder or on top of him, he stays still as a rock (literally)

• he don't even breathe (I guess they breathe)

• He likes to watch you when you sleep (bro he already looks like Catnap wtf)

• If he have the opportunity, he takes photos when you sleep.

• He likes to listen to you purr and sometimes he puts his ear on your chest to listen to you purr (I hope no one thinks this in a weird way(I know they will, I KNOW The PEOPLE FROM THE INTERNET ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT👺)).

BOBBY BEARHUG

• YOU. ARE. SO. ADORABLE.

• she likes to watch you sleep and sometimes she even sleeps with you, obviously spooning style

• She likes to hug you while you sleep

• She loves it when you sleep on top of her or on her shoulder.

• Sometimes she wonders if when you sleep you dream about her (you probably don't and if you dream about Bobby, it would be a horrible nightmare that will leave you with lifelong traumas lol)

• she loves when you are sleeping and start purring, she definitely recorded those moments.

• just like Dogday, she comes to think from time to time that maybe you are related to Catnap since they both sleep and are cats.

• she has a hidden photo album where there are only photos of you sleeping.

• And yes, she makes pillow forts or other things for you to sleep on, she makes them as comfortable as possible.

Try to make this as fluff as possible—

Btw there is a 97% chance that the second part is Kickin and Catnap and the third part is Bubba and Crafty

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ it’s a love story ] t. zegras

pairing : Trevor Zegras x fem!reader

summary : Trevor goes with his girlfriend to Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour when it comes to LA, and he has a surprise in his pocket when “Love Story” is played

warning(s) : none

author’s note : i keep seeing tiktoks of proposals during love story and i couldn’t not write a lil fic featuring the nhl’s resident swiftie so enjoy this probably cliche filled story that i couldn’t resist writing anymore

༺═──────────────═༻

This show has been something she and Trevor have been looking forward to since they both sat on their respective Ticketmaster accounts for almost 24 hours in November. She basically went through war for the general admission tickets she somehow managed to get. It was worth the wait and the hundreds of dollars she spent.

She went all out for her outfit. A short pink dress that is covered in glitter with matching heels pairs well with the pink makeup look that she decided on while she was doing her makeup. Her hair is curled with pink gems scattered throughout her locks. Trevor wasn’t sure how he felt about it but the look as grown on him in the hour or so since he first saw it.

The two of them get to SoFi Stadium at two in the afternoon with multiple water bottles in hand since it’s early August in Los Angeles. She wasn’t going to get there super early but didn’t want to get there super late either.

Of course, she made a bunch of bracelets so she trades with people while waiting in line to get in. The VIPs go in early then they go in about an hour later. She runs as fast as she can to find a good spot on the floor. Trevor is right behind her.

They end up near at the point of the diamond part of the stage but about fifteen rows of people back. It’s still a good spot despite getting to the arena at two instead of six in the morning. She’s very happy with where they end up.

Trevor stands behind her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders while they wait for the show to start. Gayle opens for Taylor Swift and the set lasts about 45 minutes or so. She vibes with the music, but gets so excited when it’s between sets.

Her boyfriend kisses the top of her head and asks close to her ear, “Are you excited? Nervous? Both?”

“So so excited,” she tells him as she looks up at him. Despite the heels, she still has a disadvantage when it comes to height. Trevor is six foot, but she’s five-foot-six with two inch heels on. “Thank you for coming with me. It means a lot to me.”

Trevor smiles and says, “Wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.” She raises her eyebrows because she knows a handful of people that he would want to come to the Eras Tour with. “Okay, you and Jamie are the only people I’d want to be here with. And maybe Cole but I’m here with you and I’m happy to be here with you.”

She spins in his arms and wraps her arms around his torso. He’s wearing a button up but only half the buttons are actually buttoned. She gets makeup on the exposed part of his chest and feels his cool chain against her cheek until she pulls back.

The clock pops up on the screen and everyone, including her, loses their minds. Trevor lets her go so she can freely dance and sing as the Lover era begins. She gets very into “The Man” since it’s her favorite off of the Lover album.

As soon as the Fearless era begins, she pulls out her phone so she can make sure to get Trevor singing “You Belong With Me” when she plays it after “Fearless”. He tries to block the camera when she puts it on him but she does end up getting Trevor singing the song. She makes a mental note to send it to Jamie and Cole after the show.

“Love Story” plays next and she records Taylor singing it while Trevor drapes his arms around her waist. She sings along to the song.

The song slows for the bridge and she sways in Trevor’s arms. He presses a kiss to her temple as the bridge transitions to the chorus for the last time. She feels him let her go as Taylor sings “Is this in my head? I don’t know what to think”.

Only the crowd around her begins to scream and turn their recording phones toward her as “He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, and said” is sung. She turns around to find Trevor Zegras on one knee with a box in his hand.

In the box is a diamond ring.

Her hands fly to her mouth as Trevor sings along with Taylor on stage. She immediately begins to nod her head yes to accept the proposal as tears that she didn’t know were in her eyes roll down her cheeks.

Trevor stands up and takes the ring out of the box. He slides it into her left ring finger before she flings her arms around Trevor’s neck. He leans down and presses a deep but quick kiss to her lips. She cups his jaw as she kisses him back.

“I can’t believe you proposed to me during ‘Love Story’,” she comments without pulling back too far. “God, you’re such a romantic.”

He smiles. “You know you were thinking about it when we got tickets,” he replies. “I went out and got the ring the week after you secured the tickets. If I was ever going to propose to you, it was going to be at the Eras Tour.”

She leans up to press one more peck to his lips before she looks at the ring on her hand. It’s simple but it has enough sparkle to it. She never wanted a large diamond on her ring whenever she got engaged and Trevor knew it.

The rest of the show feels like an intense fever dream. It is probably the best day of her life. Well, it’s probably tied with Trevor getting drafted in 2019 but still. It’s one of the most important days of her life.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

yourusername

liked by jamie.drysdale, trevorzegras and 76,892 others

yourusername baby i said ‘yes’ 💍🤍

view all 1,989 comments

colecaufield THIS IS WHY I DIDNT GET INVITED ISNT IT

fan1 lmaooo cole

jamie.drysdale jesus cole

yourusername sorry coley

fan2 TREVOR IS ENGAGED ??? HOLY FUCK

fan3 he’s all grown up 😩

jackhughes the FUCK ???

yourusername hi jack

jamie.drysdale my favorite people. congratulations !! (it’s abt time @ trevor)

yourusername love you jimmy 🫶🏼

trevorzegras thanks for keeping my secret bud

trevorzegras you’re my entire heart. forever 🤍

yourusername and ever 🤍

_quinnhughes congrats !!

anaheimducks Congratulations to the future Mr. and Mrs. Zegras !! 🧡

fan4 mrs. zegras is insane

fan5 alexa play that should be me by justin beiber

fan6 LMAOO 💀💀

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

requests are currently CLOSED !!

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist : @fanboysfangirl @dasiysthings @axaslee @dancerbailey3 @goldihocksrocks @love4lando @stony1386 @mangoluver @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34 @bunbunbl0gs @marie7366 @aaliyah40606-blog @naughty-box @memandi @rybabob @this-ass-is-eikonic

[erisenyo]

“Oh fuck oh FUCK” + Zukka please!

For this prompt game! (And also this one!) (And this one too lol)

Zuko isn’t sure what posses him to actually say yes when the last hotel calls back to regretfully confirm that there will be no vacancies tonight and the cute mechanic lets up the truly over-the-top flirting to half-shyly offer Zuko a place to stay that night—

“Well, not my house,” Sokka—not Hakoda, going by the wince when Zuko had called him that, even though that’s what’s embroidered over his pocket—says, tugging on his wolf tail, “It’s my dad’s house. But he’s away!” Sokka says, excited and quickly tacking on when he seems to hear himself, “He’s helping out my Gran Gran! So I’m house-sitting! And keeping this place going—”

He waves a hand around the auto shop, making Zuko intensely curious about what Sokka does if not this all the time. He looks good in those overalls...

Not that Zuko has the chance to ask.

“—and so don’t worry, there’s plenty of space. I’m not suggesting you stay in my room—or, well, actually it is my room, but from when I was a kid, not you know, my room. I don’t live there anymore—”

Zuko wonders where he does live, if it’s close to the band’s recording studio, or any of their homes, and Ty Lee is always renting apartments all over the place maybe Zuko could—

“—but it’s still a totally good room still, like quiet but not creepily so, you know? And you can stay there. Or not! Absolutely no pressure, like obviously if you want to keep calling hotels or I mean I guess we could make up the couch in the office, though I wouldn’t recommend it," Sokka adds, frowning at the couch in question. "You end up with this really weird crick in your—”

“Yes,” Zuko interrupts, "Yes, a place to say would be great," he says, putting Sokka out of his misery. Even though he’s been enjoying the rambling train of Sokka’s thoughts all day, and he really shouldn’t impose, and Zuko might feel comfortable after so many hours of Sokka trying to figure out Zuko’s car but he doesn’t actually know the guy, and—

Sokka breaks into a grin, wide and pleased and clearly delighted and Zuko’s stomach flips the way it’s been doing all day and right. Right. That. That’s why Zuko said yes, even though he knows it’s stupid, even though it would be easier to just ask for the guy’s number even if as a rule Zuko doesn’t give out his own. Even though Mai would take one look at Sokka and give Zuko one of those knowing looks of hers and he hates being so predictable but shit, this guy is such his type.

Which means he’s not disappointed when Sokka says, “Awesome, dude! We can grab burritos on the way back!”

Dude.

And burritos.

But Zuko’s not disappointed, he’s not. He’s…relieved. To have a place to stay tonight that’s not a dubious-looking couch, or the back of his own barely-fits-two-people car. And to not be recognized—not that he ever is—because the last thing he needs on top of his car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, meaning he’s absolutely going to miss his flight—shit, Uncle is going to be so disappointed…—is to be dealing with fans.

Pestering him for info about the rest of the Dangerous Ladies, or trying to sniff out rumors about the relationships they’re all convinced are happening within the band, or hating him for breaking Mai’s heart as if it wasn’t mutual and years ago anyway. and they’re still in the band so clearly it’s fine, Mai didn’t even write that song, and—

And it’s fine. Zuko doesn’t even know what he was worried about in the first place. For someone with a massive facial scar, he's proven shockingly unrecognizable without a flaming guitar in his hands. Which is fine. Exactly how he likes it.

So what if he almost never gets his own posters of magazine covers? So what if he's tucked off to the side or in the back of all the official merch and the band has a running collection of all the albums and magazine covers and t-shirts that inexplicably end up with a price sticker over his and only his face?

It’s better than getting mobbed every time he leaves the house like Azula and getting pelted with rumors like Ty Lee and having his every expression scrutinized like Mai. It's better than having every outfit analyzed and every tilt of his head breathlessly redescribed and every photo and appearance and sighting on the street turned into screenshots and phone backgrounds and gif sets and spank bank material, better than everyone he meets tripping to fall into his bed and—

Really. It’s better.

“Here it is, the humble abode!” Sokka gives Zuko an uncertain flash of a smile as holds open the door, like he thinks someone who drives a Porsche so tricked out Sokka had had to psych himself up to actually touch it is going to judge a well-loved ranch house, which…well. Maybe isn’t such a bad assumption.

Zuko hastily makes sure his expression is set into something attentive and interested, his June is talking face, as Azula calls it.

“You’ve got your kitchen here,” Sokka says, flicking on a light to show the worn, comfortable-looking space. “Glasses are over the sink, snacks are in the fridge and in the tall cabinet if you need anything. There’s some leftovers in the freezer you can reheat, too, if you want. Oven, microwave, all the good stuff, you just, you know. Hit the buttons, and—”

And Sokka is clearly back to nervous rambling, because Zuko doesn’t think he’s going to need to eat for the rest of the week after finishing that burrito. A fucking burrito. Ugh, if there’s ever a less sexy food, and then to eat so much of it nervously pacing Sokka that Zuko actually contemplated whether he could subtly unbutton his jeans in the car…

“…and the bedrooms are this way, and the bathroom—it’s shared, sorry,” Sokka adds, glancing back to give Zuko an apologetic look. Zuko hastily jerks his eyes up off Sokka’s ass. “Probably not what you’re used to, I know. But it’s just you and me, so it won’t be too bad!”

“It’s perfect,” Zuko says, trying for a smile and blinking when Sokka just coughs, a blush staining his cheeks as he quickly gets back to his tour.

“Extra blankets and stuff are here,” Sokka says, rapping on a closed door. “Towels, pillows, the works. There should be some extra shampoo and soap and stuff in there too, if you need it.”

“Sounds like you have everything covered,” Zuko says, hearing the awkward edge of his words but still trying to reach for some of the joking, playful easiness of earlier today. “Quite the full-service auto shop you’re running.”

“Uh…yeah.” Sokka freezes a little, eyes wide, which…great. Zuko isn’t surprised he missed the mark, but still. He thought he’s at least better these days than when Azula firmly told him he was no longer allowed to speak in interviews until he could be sure he wasn’t going to end up in another bloopers reel.

“Anyway!” Sokka finally says, shaking himself, his voice coming out suddenly squeaky, which— “Here’s your room, have a good night, make yourself comfy I’ll seeyoutomorrow!”

Zuko blinks again, nonplussed. Did Sokka just...run away? In his own home?

"That's that then," Zuko sighs ruefully—the flirting had been so outrageous that Zuko couldn’t quite believe it was actually real, so—giving the closed door Sokka had disappeared behind one last look before slipping into his room.

Which is very much a teenager’s room, holy—Zuko nearly laughs as he realizes why Sokka was so quick to make that clear. And a well-lived in one, at that, LEGOs on the shelves and cheap trophies for science fairs lined up across the dresser, half-faded posters and clipped-out pictures tacked over the walls and old art supplies still scattered over the desk.

It's cluttered and eclectic and...cute. Cute in the same way Sokka is cute, and he’d probably hate being called that which just makes Zuko want to do it even more, Zuko’s lips curled again into the little smile he feels like he's been wearing all day as he sprawls back on the neatly-made twin bed and immediately makes eye contact with himself.

On the ceiling.

Shirtless.

Life-sized.

Zuko’s mind immediately supplies the details—that Rolling Stones cover shoot for their third album, right before Zuko had turned twenty, when he was still somehow managing to keep up his martial arts training because who needed sleep, definitely not him. He and Ty Lee had been goofing off while Mai and Azula got their makeup finished, flexing their muscles and trying to out-flexible each other and the photographer had loved it and had them run with it, who could pose the most creatively with the most outrageously flexed muscles and —

Zuko slowly closes his mouth and rapidly reconsiders that whole ‘not recognized’ thing...

--

Sokka is giving his teeth the most thorough, most frustrated brush of his life—ugh, burritos. Why did he suggest burritos—when he nearly chokes on his toothpaste as he suddenly realizes that he just put Zuko Hua in his— “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

Oh…fuck.

Katara is never going to let him live this down.

He is so, so fucked.

[diballydumbloo]

EVERYONE PLZ LOOK AT HER (people who made the fanart: shadow.cipher/instagram, @hannathenarc/twt, hattersarts/tumbler)

It’s like, her character design and personality we get to see in the whole 2 min of the video is more than enough for me to start making head cannons for her.

Plus all the things we see she can do/is/does in the music video?!!!

We first see she has a background as some sort of pirate esk character in a group and has beef with this entire vampire/monster league

We can tell she’s the muscle of the group because we see her demeanor handling one captured enemy, she is the first to jump out of the ship, she seems skilled at quick action and acrobatics, AND SHE DESTROYS A WHOLE BUILDING JUST BY LANDING ON IT, and the obvious fact that she’s bigger than the rest of the clown group.

And it’s like the rest of the group knows what she’s capable of, they know she doesn’t need a parachute to dive 100ft in the air, all of her actions just give us more clarification of why she was put in charge of handling the captured enemy in the start of the video and why it was probably planned for her to jump first out the ship

So much of her personality just shines through in the first min of this mv it’s insane, or maybe I’m just crazy :?

Her character design too?!??

The overalls makes her work feel more”heavy duty” if that makes sense, and the long hair just feels so fitting for her especially when it’s up. AND THE BIG SHARP TEETH W/ THE EYES. IAN YOU DIDNT HAVE TO GO SO CRAZY ON THIS CHARACTER AS YOU DID.<333 Being clown themed just brings her all the way to the top on the character design too.

I remember this one head cannon that I heard from someone, that in that clown universe all female born clowns tend to grow up to be bigger compared to male born clowns, this headconnon is awesome and now I say it’s true

But the eyes and teeth just make her more mysterious and stand out in the group, why do we see her with those features but no one else? Maybe she’s only half clown and those features come from a vampire or other creature?

AND THE VOICE

Maybe Ian’s singing in the mv wasn’t supposed to be the exact representation/voice of BigJ, but it’s too perfect not to be. I just imagine if Big J were to have the voice of anyone it would be Ian because of how well the raspy deep tone singing is done by him. Big J totally embodies his voice perfectly I think. In other things like Worthi’s 15 blows album you can hear more of that absolute monsterish singing that matches Big J perfectly

Anyway idk I just rlly like this character and hope to see more content/ head cannons for her, if ygs have any plz comment them or smth<33

[melodyreads]

Once you fix your face, I’m going in

hamzah x reader

description: a few months after breaking up, the reader is determined to get hamzah back. stubbornly she can’t help but find herself drawn back to him. despite acting as though she could care less about the situation; little does he know she’s been plotting their inevitable reconciliation.

took inspiration from this song (i love this album so much it does not deserve the hate)

enjoy <3

—

Y/n didn't know exactly how she got here, but she knew she sure as hell wasn't leaving.

At least not until he got there.

As she leaned against the bar, she felt wandering eyes on her but not the ones she wanted. She had just come back from the office dressed in her usual fitted slacks and button-up. She could see her colleagues socializing a few tables away. It was a special day for them, a birthday or something, but that didn't concern you. What concerned you was the boy in the navy-blue hat who had just walked in.

Y/n and Hamzah had dated for almost a year before their relationship wafted out like a flame in the dead of winter. This being said, the Christmas lights did not add any holiday cheer to the situation. It made sense, both were too stubborn for each other they fought like children over who was right and wrong. Was their relationship destined to end this way?

Y/n had always considered herself a low-maintenance girlfriend. In her past relationship, her boyfriends would even go as far as to say that she put them on the back burner. She always just claimed to not need a lot of attention. She was very self-efficient and liked spending time alone.

That was until she met Hamzah.

This was the first time a man had completely captivated her attention. She loved everything about him. The way he carried himself. The way he laughed. The way the top of his shirts fit his chest and arms. The way his curls peaked out whenever he wore a hat. She couldn't get enough.

She thought he felt the same way, but after she got a new promotion at work and found herself tied back to the office, she noticed Hamzah starting to get weary. This led to Hamzah starting to be distant with you, which for the first time, caused you to side with all of your exes.

"I just don't understand why you're being so dry." Y/n started in a huff; she ran her hands through her hair. As he stood in front of her in a gray hoodie and his hands in his pockets, she wished it wouldn't be out of social standards to just jump his bones right then and there.

He shrugged, "I don't know, that's how I've always been. Why do you care anyway? It's not like you're here half the time."

This constant back and forth grew tiresome by the minute. Both of you decided to call it quits in the most rushed and blunt manner possible. After going months without any communication from the two of you, the truth hung in front of you like a thread waiting to be pulled.

You missed him.

Y/n was too proud to call him and definitely too proud to ask for forgiveness to take her back. So, she resulted in the only resolution she saw as reasonable. Ask Mandy to set up a party with some old friends and secretly invite her.

She swore she was low maintenance. Mandy laughed.

Her face became hot as she saw him enter the bar. She turned away so fast she swore she got whiplash. Fixing her eyes on her half-finished drink she thought of all the names he could call her after seeing her for the first time in months. Although she could do the same, she would much rather skip that part and throw him onto the couch of her apartment.

She needed to get out of her head. She turned back to see where her target had moved to but turns out he had gotten lost in the sea of head crowding the bar. It really was a busy night.

"Maybe Mandy should have picked a weekday to plan this scheduled pursuit." As she thought this she turned to her right and saw him.

He was leaning against the bar with his arms as he was ordering from the already busy bartender.

He was wearing baggy camo pants with a shirt that had a reference on it she probably didn't understand. He always had to explain his references to her. But he always took the time to make sure she understood every single one of them.

God, she missed him.

She must have been staring too hard because suddenly his deep brown eyes had made their way over to hers. They faltered for a moment almost unable to believe what they were seeing. His face hadn't changed from when she had last seen him the night they had left things. She was met with the words exchanged that night and all too fast came to her senses.

This was a mistake.

She turned around and hastily made her way through the crowd of people. Attempting to the door would be much harder now that she had started this war. Her wrist was suddenly caught by a much larger hand and an even greater grip.

She turned meekly to meet the eyes of the boy she once knew so well, the one whose voice still echoed in the quiet corners of her mind. His grip wasn’t forceful, but it was firm—unwilling to let her slip away as easily as she had intended.

“Wait,” he said, his voice rough with something she couldn’t quite place—anger, hurt, desperation? Maybe all three.

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. “I was just leaving” she said unable to meet his eyes, turning her head back to the door up front suddenly wishing teleportation wasn't a futuristic idea.

His eyes searched hers, and for a moment, the noise around them seemed to fade.

"I've been waiting for you" he finally said. This got her attention. She turned back to see his eyes soft and yearning. "It's been months, but I figured you would have called if you wanted to see me"

"Who says I want to see you now?" She said as she finally pulled her hand out of his grip.

Hamzah rolled his eyes, "I know you better than that Y/N, you set this up, didn't you?"

Y/n looked away crossing her arms "I don't know what you're talking about," she waited for a beat before saying anything more, "but if there was something you wanted to say to me, I would expect you to say it now."

He smiled down at her with a boyish grin, "You still haven't changed" he chuckled to himself.

Before y/n could come up with a response to this, Hamzah had reached out to cup her face in his hands. Her eyes grew wide as his mouth met hers once more.

It was familiar yet different, carrying the weight of all the words left unsaid and the time they had lost. Y/n’s breath hitched as a rush of emotions flooded through her. She had sworn she wouldn’t let this happen again, that she wouldn’t fall into the same cycle, but the warmth of his hands against her skin and the way he kissed her like she was something he had been without for too long made it impossible to say no.

After what felt like both a second and an eternity, she pulled away, her lips tingling, her mind spinning. Hamzah’s forehead rested lightly against hers, his breath fanning across her face.

Y/n looked into his dark eyes, unable to tell if this was a dream or not under all the strobe lights. It sure felt like one.

She looked up at him and grinned ear to ear, "I knew you would come to your senses".

He stared at her for a beat before pushing her away, "What is that supposed to mean?"

She closed the gap one more time pressing her body against his as she draped her arms around his neck, and she kissed his mouth with fever. "Don't ruin it".

He scoffed but didn't break the kiss, "What happened to where we left things before?"

She smirked against his mouth at this before pulling back just enough to whisper in his ear, "You were never not mine."

She pulled him back in.

[ghostofwriting]

Kildare Split Part One: Angel

Chapter One: Angel

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Note: Thank you all for commenting, liking, reblogging, and interacting with the KS smau's! I really appreciate you all and thought that I would give you a little treat for being so nice. I can't sleep so here is part one of Kildare Split's story, more specifically y/n and Rafe's. Hope you have fun getting to read about the behind-the-scenes. This is absolutely not edited.

Warnings: none, bad writing, Rafe being mean.

Word Count: 3,710

Synopsis: Everyone has noticed that there's been a shift in how Kildare Split acts around each other. Rafe and Y/N used to be so close, they were always pictured together, and always shared stories of each other and for the last few years, there has been nothing from them. A behind-the-scenes look at what went down between everyone's favorite band.

The audience claps as the interviewer closes out the interview. The four of them stand up and start shaking hands with the man. One of the Jimmys or Seth or maybe even Jack. She doesn’t know. She just wants to leave. She’s so tired. It’s been such a long day of pretending. 

Y/n’s the first one to make it backstage, she breathes deeply, her back against a wooden panel. 

“Hey, you okay?” a voice comes from behind her. She puts on a smile and nods her head. 

“Yeah, Top. Fine.” He nods and gives her a half smile. 

Things aren’t the same as they used to be. They haven’t been the same in so long. Two years? Maybe three. Everything is such a blur. Time mending together. Touring helps a lot. It helps time pass, and it helps distract her. Being on stage helps too, that’s the only moment that she can pretend that everything is okay and believe it. She can look at Rafe and smile at him and it feels like before. 

Topper leaves her alone, he goes back to the guys, hanging back with them as they talk to their manager. She walks into the dressing room, gathering her stuff and waiting for Sarah to text her that they’re ready to go. 

Rafe walks into the room, alone. 

“Good job tonight.” He doesn’t look at her. He just starts shoving his belongings into a tote, grabbing some extra snacks that the show provided them. 

She’s so angry. Even still. Even after all this time. She wants to scream at him, beg him to explain himself but she can’t. So she stays quiet. 

“This has to stop.” He says, pausing his actions, still not looking at her. 

She looks at the back of his head. His hair starting to grow out from when he buzzed it, bleached from his album shoot. 

She wants to speak but she can’t. It’s like the anger chokes her up, this ball of fire stuck in her throat and she can’t get a word out because all that will come out is lava. She wants to hurt him. Wants him to feel a fraction of what she felt. And even then, she doesn’t even know if she’s in the right. Two years later and she’s still mad at him, even if she shouldn’t be. 

Sarah tried telling her to talk to him, to work it all out for the sake of the band. From her perspective, the band hasn’t suffered. The band is doing better than ever and she thinks that she deserves an award for not killing Rafe on stage. 

Sometimes she wishes she could put everything behind her and just try and be his friend again. They may never be best friends again, but she could speak to him at least. She thinks she’s civil with him though. He’s not dead so that says something. 

Rafe just sighs and sits on the counter, pulling out his phone. He’s probably texting her. His girlfriend. No, the fiance. The one he cheated on her with. Or well, sort of.

+++

Rafe and y/n met when they were 10 years old. She was friends with Sarah and always went over to her house. She thought of Sarah as her best friend until she met Rafe. Maybe it was love at first sight or a little kid crush but she grew attached. She would not leave him alone. Luckily for her, Rafe was the same way. He always followed her around, asking her to play when he saw her on the beach, at school, or if their parents ran into each other at the grocery store. 

They became inseparable and soon they added two new faces to their duo. Topper and Barry. It was early on that they knew what they wanted to do with their lives. They would put on shows for whoever wanted to watch. They would sing at the top of their lungs and smash around on every surface they could find. 

Soon after, y/n had asked her mom to put her in guitar lessons. She picked it up quickly but she always enjoyed singing more. She had bragged to Rafe about how fun her vocal lessons were and he convinced his father that he wanted to join too. It was contagious because soon enough, Topper and Barry had each claimed an instrument that they practiced every day after school for hours. They drove their parents insane. 

Rafe said that they couldn’t have two guitar players in the band and Topper refused to drop lead guitar so y/n did. Rafe was mad at Topper first but y/n reassured him that she could pick up bass quickly. They became Kildare Split on a blisteringly hot summer day in Barry’s garage. Sarah, John B, and JJ watching their rehearsal. After that, they played shows whenever they could. Dive bars, small fairs around town, and busking outside venues where established bands were playing. 

It took them from the ages of 12 to 17 to get discovered but they never let up. When they finally got signed to their label, y/n remembers crying in Rafe’s arms. She was so happy, their dreams were coming true and she was doing it with her best friends. 

Little did she know that everything would fall apart so fast. 

Childhood is pretty much lost when you’re playing stingy bars full of drunk people and drugs at 12 years old. She thought that it would get better once they had protection from managers and label heads. She was wrong. It almost became worse. Drugs were everywhere. At 17 getting drugs offered to you by a 50-year-old man who controls your entire career is pretty terrifying. She didn’t think she could say no. The boys didn’t think they could say no. It was intense. Some of them made it out better than others, and the others, well, that’s the downfall of fame at such a young age. 

There was an entire year where she probably spent half of it high out of her mind. She went from doing it out of fear of losing her career to craving it, needing it. Rafe was the same way. Topper had tried to help them both but they were too far gone. She remembers going on talk shows, but not which talk shows or who they talked to or what they talked about. She looks back on those days and feels a pit in her stomach. Losing such a big chunk of her young adult life that she can’t relive hurts. 

That’s when it all started. She was high and drunk, and Rafe was high and drunk and one thing led to another. They had never crossed that line before. After her initial crush went away, she had never thought of Rafe that way. When it happened, it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her head. She woke up the next day and immediately regretted it. She apologized to Rafe, told him that it could never happen again and bolted. 

That’s when she cleaned her act up. She couldn’t risk their relationship, for their friendship and the band. 

One thing she should have known is that Rafe didn’t care. He wanted her and he was going to have her. And who was she to shove all her bottled-up feelings back in their little box? Who was she to deny him?

So they start their little song and dance. At first, they keep it hidden from everyone. If Topper and Barry were to find out, they would be so incredibly upset and they would tell them to stop. 

She can’t stop. She doesn’t want to stop. Not as long as Rafe wants her. 

She gets clean and she tries to help Rafe get clean too. He relapses time and time again, crawling back to her, asking for another chance. She’s been there, she knows how hard it is to get clean so of course she gives him all the chances he asks for. 

They hook up on and off for a year. They never become anything official because Rafe isn’t in the headspace to be in a relationship. He needs to focus on himself and she wants to help him and if he needs her to be his friend, that’s what she’ll be. 

“You’re friends with benefits with my brother,” Sarah says stunned. Topper and Barry had found out and ran to her to get her to talk some sense into Rafe and y/n. 

“It’s not like that.” Sarah looks at her incredulously. 

“Are you or are you not fucking my brother?” y/n doesn’t know how to respond so she stays quiet. Sarah is scary when she’s mad.

“It’s not because he’s my brother, y/n. It’s because of what he means to you.” y/n shakes her head, smiling softly. 

“Sarah, I promise you, it’s okay. Rafe and I have an agreement.” Sarah sighs and looks at her with concern.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” She should’ve taken Sarah’s advice. She should have put a stop to everything that minute everyone found out. She was too far gone for him though, she couldn’t leave him, not when he needed her. 

Everyone warned her. Everyone told her that it would end badly. 

“I just want you to know that if he does something, those boys will choose him. You’re the odd variable y/n, know that.” Cleo had said to her one night when they were in the tour bus, the boys off on a run. 

“I am just as important to them as Rafe is.” Or she had thought. 

On one stupid drunken night she tells Rafe that she loves him. He gapes at her not knowing what to say. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” She understands, of course, she does. It’s not like that between them. 

The doesn’t stop her from crying in Barry’s arms about it. She hiccups and sobs into his chest about how much she loves him and how he will never look at her that way. Barry just listens and holds her. She falls asleep in his arms. She feels so safe with him. Her best friend. 

Shit hits the fan all at once and so fast. 

Sarah sits her down one night after a show. Her adrenaline is still pumping, she wants to go jump around with the guys and run laps around the venue. 

“Sar, can we do this later?”

“This can’t wait.” The tone in her voice brings her back down to earth. It’s serious. 

“What’s wrong?” y/n knows it’s about Rafe before Sarah opens her mouth. She feels it, there’s a shift in whatever the hell universe she’s been living in. Her face feels hot, her ears are ringing, and she feels like she starts to shake. 

“Rafe is seeing someone.” Of course, he is. She’s y/n she’s just his friend.

A friend that he sleeps with. A friend that has stayed up all night with him as he detoxed. A friend who drove him to and from meetings, that drove him to rehab and told everyone that he was on vacation. She was the person that he would run to when any little thing went wrong, she held him as he cried about their career not going anywhere and having to go back to work for his dad. She let him sob in her arms about all the shit that they have been through during the lift-off of their career. She was there for him, always for him and he promised her. He promised that he would always be there for her that it was only her. That he only ever wanted her and when he got his shit together they could be together. He told her that he wasn’t sleeping around. He didn’t have time for girlfriends, he didn’t have time to put in the work on a relationship because he could barely put the work into himself. He told her that she was the only one he was ending his nights with and waking up in the mornings with. He promised her the world and it was all just a lie. 

Just as fast as her body starts shaking, it relaxes, she takes a deep breath and looks at Sarah, the look of concern still on her face. 

“Who?” she asks lowly. 

“This painter, named Sofia.” The name rings a bell. She thinks she’s seen her call Rafe a few times. 

“That’s okay. We weren’t dating.” Sarah’s concern grows so y/n smiles at her. 

“Let’s go back out there.”

“Do you want me to call Cleo?” Sarah asks. 

“I’m good, Sar.”

And she is. Or at least she’s trying to be good. She has no right to be angry. They weren’t dating. He doesn’t owe her anything. 

They walk into the room where the guys are playing video games. Waiting for the fans to leave the venue before it’s safe for them to leave. 

“Hey! Great show tonight angel!” Rafe says looking away from the screen at her. She gives him a short smile, her face pensive. 

Cleo’s words ring in her head, those boys will choose him those boys will choose him those boys will choose him.

She knows all three of them like the back of her hand. Topper's lip quivers when he lies. Barry doesn’t look you in the eyes. And Rafe, Rafe’s ears turn red. 

She has to know if the two boys, men, that she grew up with and calls her family, would keep that from her. 

“So who’s Sofia?” She watches as all three of them tense. She’s looking between Barry and Topper but she sees Rafe turn to look at Sarah with anger between his brows from her peripherals. 

She looks for the cues and hopes that she can’t find them. It’s hard to miss when Barry doesn’t look up from his controller but is frozen, quiet. She looks at Topper, his mouth open, trying to find something to say.

“I don’t know, some person we commissioned probably.” She can’t help the breathy sob that escapes her lips when she sees the quiver on Topper’s. 

She swallows hard, she turns to Rafe, shaking her head at him and backing away. 

“You’re a liar. You’re a fucking liar. All of you are.” She backs into the hallway, her eyes still floating from one to the other. 

“y/n-” Topper moves towards her but she holds her hand out and cuts him off.

“No. Stay away from me. I never- I-” she chokes on a sob. “ I never would have done this to you. Don’t talk to me, don’t follow me, just stay away from me.” She turns on her feet and books it out of the room and hallway, she hears Rafe chewing Sarah out but doesn’t stay long enough to hear what Sarah says. 

Things are awkward, to say the least from then on. She stayed in her bunk and silently cried herself to sleep. She wants to go to him, ask him what she could have done, ask him what happened and when he knew he wanted to stop things with her. He doesn’t come to see her that night, or the next night or the night after that. 

At first, she thought it was because he was giving her time to cool off but on the third night of complete silence from him, she walks into the dressing room of their show in Nashville and a pretty girl with short hair sits on the couch. 

“Hi, I’m Sofia. You must be y/n.” She extends her hand out and y/n takes it. 

“Nice to meet you.” y/n says. 

“You too, sorry about how things went down.” Y/n scrunches up her nose, her head tilting. 

“What?” She asks.

“I mean, I knew he had to choose eventually, he just didn’t get the chance to tell you.” She feels like she’s going to throw up. She wasn’t planning on hating Sofia, but she knew. Sofia knew that y/n existed and she still kept on seeing him. 

She walks out of the room. 

That same night, everything changed. If he had just apologized, if he had told her that he fucked up and he was too drugged up to think clearly, she would have forgiven him. That’s not what happened. 

She runs into Rafe in the lunch area and can’t hold in all her feelings. She needs to know what he’s thinking and wants to ask him to explain himself. 

“Rafe?” He doesn’t acknowledge her. 

“Can we please talk?”

“God Y/n, I don’t want to fucking talk. I’m so goddamn tired of you moping around this place like you have any right.” He explodes at her, his face red. 

“What?” She’s shocked, he’s never talked to her like this. 

“You’re just some girl I fucked okay? I needed to get off and you were always there. You were just a fuck. I don’t care about you like that.” He pauses. His words sank into her like knives. 

“I’m going to get clean for her. Sofia, she’s worth it.” He walks out of the room without saying anything else to her. She feels her eyes start to water, chills running up and down her body.

How could he be so cruel? How could her best friend of so many years say he doesn’t care about her? How could he disregard her feelings and belittle her to be just someone he fucked? She thought they were friends. She believed that they would come out of this situation unscathed but he didn’t even see her as a person. 

The people she thought cared about her most in the world, didn’t care about her at all. They all chose someone else. They didn’t choose her. 

She had never felt so alone in her entire life. And for the first time since they started their journey as a band, she wondered if any of it had been worth it. 

+++

“I don’t think it can stop.” It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him directly and not on stage or in an interview in years. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to move out of LA, back home probably or New York with Cleo and Pope.”

“y/n.” It’s not Rafe’s voice saying her name, it’s Barry from behind her. She turns around and looks at him, looks past him and Topper, and then back at Rafe.”

“I think we all know this has been building up and it’s getting really hard to pretend all the time so um-yeah I’m going to go, I need a break after the tour’s over.” She gulps down the ball building in her throat. She needs to get through this. She hates putting the band on the back burner and hates that she’s to blame.

“What are you talking about?” Rafe asks her, getting off the counter.

“It’s just a break. I think we should announce a prolonged hiatus and just do our own thing for a bit.”

“We have an entire third album to record,” Rafe says incredulously.

“I’ll keep writing and you can send me the vocals you want me to lay down. It’ll be fine.”

“You’re breaking up the band over some stupid grudge?” Rafe asks. 

“That’s not what I’m saying. I just need some time.” It’s not a grudge.

“You have got to be kidding me, y/n, come on. I know how much you love touring and making music.”

“I do,” her voice breaks, “I just need time away from all of you.”

“You need a break from us? What did we do?” Barry pipes in.

“You left me alone. You let him,” she points at Rafe, “belittle me and make me feel like nothing. You isolated me for two years.” Rafe scoffs. 

“You did that yourself.” He sounds hurt more than he does angry. He’s different now. He’s better in a way. He hasn’t apologized to her but he’s good now. He’s clean. He got clean for Sofia. Because she was worth it and y/n wasn’t. 

“Because I was hurt, Rafe! You broke my heart. I fucking told you that I loved you, I was honest with my feelings for you and you never said anything back and then you told me you didn’t care about me!”

“I wasn’t in my right mind.” The tears are still gathering in her eyes but she refuses to let them fall. 

“If you had just apologized to me, this wouldn’t have happened but you said some nasty shit and never looked back and I was just so alone.”

“Do you know what it’s like to have no one to talk to on tour for months on end? That’s what I have had to go through for years because I don’t trust any of you! Because you hurt me and never apologized.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s late but I’m sorry.” Topper is the one that speaks up. 

“Thank you, but it’s too late. I need some time. I need to heal so that the band can continue because I don’t think I can do this for much longer if I stay.” Topper nods, agreeing with her. She gives him a thankful smile and breathes in deep. 

“Okay, so we finish the tour, and a week or so later we announce that we’re going on a break. We’ll still write and record and we can even release the album but I won’t be doing press for it.” She looks at all three of them and nods. There’s a finality to her words. No room for argument. 

“And you have your solo album to figure out and do press for, maybe you can even tour it. You’ll be fine.” She says to Rafe, more words than she had said to him directly in a long time.

“I’ll see you all soon.” With that, she walks out of the talk show’s dressing room, towards the exit of the building. She was going to finish up this tour. She could do that and then she could rest.

[argumentl]

Fan-translation

Phy.25 Kaoru Interview (April 2024)

(Interview by Hasegawa Yukinobu)

ーAlong with the new single 'The Devil In Me', you have also recorded self-covers of your songs 'Cage' and 'Yokan'. Had you already decided to do this at the time you were making your previous release '19990120'?

Yes, we had. The idea behind the last release was originally in part due to our 25th anniversary, but we also thought it would be a good chance to reconnent with those people who had been fans of Dir en grey in the old days, but who had since drifted away. But we couldn't just re-release the old songs and then be like, 'Ok, thats it'.

ーYou have to get those returned fans to listen to your new music too, right?

So, we made 19990120 and planned to release a new song straight after, but as for what to include for the coupling tracks on the new song, we decided self-covers of Cage and Yokan would be good.

ーYou re-recorded the 3 songs from your debut release for 19990120, but following this, you went for your 4th and 5th singles. By the way, I personally found it very emotional that the band chose to re-record Yokan.

Did you?

ーI think you know this, but I've loved Yokan since way back....You know that, right?

Uh, no. I didn't know that (lol)

ーDo you remember that whiteboard there used to be backstage at Studio Coast, you would use it to decide the setlist? There were magnets with song names taped onto them, and you would use them for deciding that day's setlist. I once even tried making some magnets for Yokan and Akuro no oka, and sticking them on the whiteboard myself. Thats how much I love those songs (lol)

Oh, yeah, I remember that. (lol)

ーAnyway, regardless of that, looking back at these songs from the time of your debut, I really felt the Dir en grey of 1998. How did you approach your next moves in terms of sound back then?

Back then? Well, for the first three songs, they needed to have a big impact. Then following this, the singles Cage and Yokan had the restraint of being tied to a major label. We had to figure out how to make melodious but also interesting songs.

ーMaking songs with a major label?

Thats how it always goes, right? And record companies want follow up singles to have just as much punch as the debut single. So thats the kind of situation we were in making Cage and Yokan. But within ourselves we were also making them with the album in mind.

ーNot as stand alone singles?

This was our first full album as a band, so I wanted to include a lot of songs. With 5 singles included they had to be songs that would fit well with the other songs on the album. I remember having this in mind while making Cage and Yokan.

ーA lot of visual kei came out in the second half of the 90s, but in 1999, with your first album Gauze, I really got the sense that the members didn't want to fit into that typical band mold.

At the time, we were just so driven we didn't mind being seen as unorthodox. To put it in an extreme way, it was kinda like, 'As long as we make an impact, who cares about the music!'.

ーDynamite Tommy's band 'Color' had a similar outlook. They would say in interviews, 'We are an unorthodox band!'. Maybe you were influenced by him? (lol)

No, I don't think that has anything to do with it (lol). But at the time, there were not a lot of bands with flashy visuals. I mean, there were in the following generations, but in our generation visual kei was mostly bands wearing fancy suits. With us, there was a part of us that just wanted to be different, I think thats reflected in the songs too. Whether it was the single, or the label, whatever...we just wanted to do something out of the ordinary (lol). Also, we knew that our producer at the time Yoshiki, would make it sound good for us in the end.

ー Were you aiming to get to the top by being out of the ordinary?

No, not really. I wasn't thinking about the songs selling to such an extent while I was making them. Of course, I still thought this band would sell records, but part of me also thought 'How weird for this kind of band to be big'. So instead of aiming for the top, I just aimed to make interesting work. But of course, being with a major label at the time, we would have requests come in regarding the lyrics and the music. And the more I hear this kind of thing, the more I just want to go in the complete opposite direction. These were the circumstances in which we created Gauze. So at the time, I thought to myself 'After this I'm never gonna make another album like Gauze'. (lol)

ーYou wanted to be more free to make it in your own way?

Well, actually its like this every time, but whatever I make, even if I put my all into it, I always look back with some regret wishing I had done parts of it slightly differently. So after Gauze, I did think that I always want to surpass my previous work each time. Nowadays, its less about surpassing, but more about finding something different to try.

ーTo surpass=to deny your former selves, so the band underwent some changes, didn't it? I think the turning point came in about 2005 when the band began overseas activities.

Yeah, we went overseas and I think thats when we realised the importance of just being ourselves. Foreign bands stand on stage unashamed of who they are and what they do. There is a purity to it. So for us to chase our goals, I realised it wasn't just about surpassing ourselves, but also being more defiantly ourselves.

ーWere you not as self-confident before that?

Before that there was a lot that we simply didn't understand. From making music, to playing lives, finding ourselves was like fumbling through fog, grasping at things bit by bit. Eventually I realised this was our way of trying to reach our goals. So even just standing on stage, I would still feel a bit unsteady in myself. But going over there and playing lives, I felt more grounded. I realised its ok to just stand there, even completely stripped bare, and just to be yourself.

ー That realisation, yeah.

It was the right time to realise it. Maybe thats why we discovered how to show what was truly within us at that time. Our heavy sound wasn't just a result of lowering the tuning or using a heavy amp.

ーYeah.

I can't really explain it well, but its not about searching for something that is missing, the important thing is using what you have inside you. Whatever comes out from inside the 5 of us is good enough. For example, if you look at Shinya drumming, he doesn't seem like he has a heavy sound in him, but its HIS sound, so its ok. I don't want to change or manipulate it, the band sounds the way it does because of that. Rather than wanting something more, we should be a band that uses each member's sound just as it is.

ーIts great to acknowledge each member like that.

That's all we can do.

ーThats how a band should be, but bands are also groups of people with strong egos. There are also times when too much self assertion leads to failure.

Well, we have had times like that, in the 25 plus years we have been together. But I feel like we are where we are now because of that. You could say that we are similar now to how we were at the time of our debut....because we didn't know how to make music then, but we were just being ourselves. So its kind of interesting for us to re-do these old songs now.

ーWhen you look at these songs which you made 25 years ago, did you feel like they were interesting songs?

I feel like I tried hard to make something interesting. I just had an idea of what I wanted. But the gap between that and the reality was huge, so I constantly felt bad about it. I was remembering this during the recording.

ーDid you feel nostalgia for your young self?

Well, I still worry about things like I did then. I still get stumped when something feels a bit off when writing songs, but now I prioritise discovering what I have in me.

ー 'What you have in you'.....could it be...'The Devil In Me'!? (lol)

Hahaha

ーAs for the new single, what kind of image did you have for it?

Well, I discussed it with the members, but even before that, I had a vision of what would be good for our next move. But if it turned out exactly as I had envisioned, it would be less fun. So the members' opinions are really important.

ーIts a song unlike any you've done before. Its less about developmets or structure, but it really establishes each member's presence. Does this song represent the band's style going forward?

Yeah, its a different style than we've previously had, but I think its ok to keep it simple. Its a chemical reaction between the members. That's what the band depends on. Its not about who does what, its what do these 5 members each make you feel. Even a song which I'm not playing in is ok, if you feel that I am.

ーThats impossible (lol)

No, its not (lol)

ー But I feel like this is the territory you have arrived in after 25 years.

I think thats the type of thing that will make the band more interesting. How can I say it, we don't even have to make it weird, it just has to sound like us. We have over 100 songs now, right? Before we would try to cram stuff into a song to make it sound like us, but now we don't have to intentionally do that. In other words, its something thats easy to convey. Something that you can feel the presence of the 5 of us when you hear it. This will feel different depening on each listener, but thats how we are doing it now. And its the same for our new song too.

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 10

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

---

The studio is silent when you enter, the door clicking softly shut behind you. Neither of its occupants stir, even though Chan had just called out for you to come in when you'd knocked; he's staring at his computer screen now, fingers hovering over a keyboard as he listens. Han is on the other side of the room, fast asleep on the sofa with him mouth hanging half-open. 

A coffee cup sits in the ground next to him and his phone dangles from relaxed fingers, dangerously close to falling. You lean over and grab it just as it starts to slide from his grasp; Han doesn't stir, not even when your shadow falls over his face. You catch a glimpse of his phone screen before your thumb locks it, long lines of lyrics set out in a basic notes app, the top bar lined with notifications; you put it down hurriedly on the armrest of the sofa, not wanting to pry.

When you look up, Chan is watching you, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Hi," you say, turning your back on Han. Your hands are awkward after touching his phone - you fold them in front of you, one hand twisting at the fingers of the other.

"Hi," he replies softly, and smiles - something that's meant to be encouraging, you think, but this is so far out of your normal routine that you don't think there's anything that would let you just relax, rather than standing here awkwardly in the middle of the room with nothing else around to draw his attention.

"There's another chair over there," he says, pointing to the corner behind you. "Come and listen to this."

A clear goal. An easy one to achieve too - the breath rushes from your chest as you drag the chair over to his desk, some of the tension in your limbs draining out with it. You sigh again as you sit down, this time as your tired body presses back into the seat and finally finds relief - you've been engrossed in practise all day, sliding right past lunch and nearly dinner too, barely stopping for a break. Not that you'd meant to, you knew better than that, but when you'd felt like you were actually getting somewhere-

"You look tired," Chan comments as he hands you a set of headphones, one hand idly untangling the wire as it stretches out to you. His voice is decidedly neutral, his tongue lazy as it lets the English syllables slide past one by one. He talks to you in English almost all the time recently, you've noticed; ever since the album released, or maybe a little before. Not that you mind. English is...comfortable, in a way that Korean sometimes isn't. It's always been easier for you to be Australian.

"Practise was good today, though," you reply. "I feel like I might actually be able to dance in the group without sticking out now."

"You've been doing that for a while," Chan says, bemused. "Lee Know didn't have anything to say at all the other day."

You can't help the derisive snort that escapes your mouth, swallowing the acerbic laugh that tries to follow it before you can make even more of a fool of yourself. It's so rude; maybe you are tired. You certainly aren't as careful as you usually are, even though you know that can preclude trouble. "I don't think he's being as hard now that I'm not debuting in two weeks," you blurt out, and then drop your eyes down to the headphones in your hands. 

"That doesn't mean he's lying," Chan insists. His hand pats your knee - just a brush of his fingers, there and there and gone again. "You don't really need all this practise anymore, you know."

A shrug works its way up to your shoulders, though it feels more like a defensive hunch than anything else. "I'd rather practise than waste my time sitting around," you answer, and at least the words are strong, even if your body is not. "Especially when there's still a chance I could end up sitting around in Australia by the end of the year."

Something flashes across Chan's face, twisting at the edges of his mouth for just a moment before disappearing - disappointment, or frustration? It twists at your gut twice as hard, whatever it is, upsetting the delicate balance you'd found for just a moment while sitting here. "Do you want to listen to this song?" he asks, changing the subject before you can say anything to defend yourself. "We recorded it roughly, but I need a real version of it, and I think you'll like it..."

His voice trails off as he turns to the computer, pulling up whatever he's been working on. You take that as a sign to pull the headphones over your ears, offsetting one side slightly so that you can still hear him. Music fills your ears - a slow, roundabout beat and a heavy bass, overstrung by lyrics about bravery and fear and the darkness of being alone. Beautiful, in a way you're not sure how to express, and artistic, winding its way into your chest where you won't easily forget it.

You really like this song, so much that you're almost afraid to admit it; because if you did, you'd have to admit too, how its spiralling beat brushes against that dark spiral of anxiety that always lives in your chest, and the cold memories that the words stir up-

"I like that," is all you say when the music ends, one final downbeat cutting through the instruments abruptly.

"Really?" Chan asks, like it's unexpected, or unbelieveable.

"Of course," you insist, headphones sliding down around your neck. "You really want me to sing that?"

"Well, if you're going to spend all of your time working anyway, you might as well do some of our work for us," he says, the tone of his voice and the way his head tilts to point at Han's sleeping form informing you that he is joking. "Listen to it a couple more times, I'll see if Han has the lyrics written down on his phone, and then we'll try it."

"Why wouldn't you be able to sleep?"

Chan's voice startles you, loud after a long period of silence. You hadn't even seen him turn to look at you, or even stop working to check the messages that are popping up in the group chat, his phone propped loosely between his hand and the table. "What?" you ask, one hand coming up to stifle a yawn as it tugs at your jaw.

Chan glances down at his phone screen as another message pops up, and then back at you. "Earlier, you said you wouldn't be able to sleep if you went home," he says, by way of explanation.

"Oh, right." You'd forgotten about that text. You hadn't really thought about it being something that might raise questions at the time; you'd been more focused on the sudden worry you'd had over him assuming that you were regularly here all day and all night. "My house is just too quiet sometimes, I guess. I'm not really used to living alone."

His head tilts, curiousity flaring in his eyes. "You know, I've never actually asked where you live," he says. "Are you still in the dorms?"

"They gave me an apartment," you answer. "I think we're in the same building, actually. That's what they told me, anyway."

"Really?" His eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. "And you've never come over for dinner? Changbin hasn't dragged you to the gym? No one's run into you in the hall?"

"Lee Know sat in my living room for like ten minutes once?" you offer weakly, though you know it's not nearly what he's looking for. You've got nothing to offer him - even Minseo hasn't been over in a few weeks, each of you too busy on your own trajectory to cross paths. You'd had lunch in the cafeteria twice, and that was all, far from the silent walls of your empty house and it's too-big rooms.

A smile ghosts across Chan's face, strangled by the constant turn of his thoughts back to the problem he thinks he has identified. "On his way back from the store?" he questions knowingly, and you nod.

"He said no one was home at your place."

"If he went into our house, why did he-" he starts, and then cuts himself off halfway, shaking his head. "You should come over for dinner or something. Watch one of Han's animes. If I'd known you were in the building, I would have invited you ages ago."

Apprehension rises in your chest at the openness of the invitation, the way he's able to simply pick it up and throw it out there without even a moment of hesitation. Not that you should feel dread over something as simple as an invitation to dinner, with a group of people you now see every day anyway...but you've never really seen them outside the studio, and you wouldn't know what to expect even if you sat here and tried to guess. 

And even this, sitting here in the dark talking to Chan, is something you've never done before, the reason why you'd sat here so quiet when you'd first come in; if your body wasn't so tired, if the night wasn't dragging on into morning as you spoke, you don't think you'd have been able to sit so still in this chair at all.

"Maybe," you say, acknowledging the invitation with a dip of your chin. "When there's time. I'm really busy practising for debut right now, and I don't want to miss anything."

You're surprised by the look that passes over his face, the tightening of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. "You spend a lot of time in that studio," he says - and you're not sure what to think about the tone of voice that he uses, switching back and forth between stern and...soft, like he's worried he'll say the wrong thing or something. As if he could do something wrong here, when he is the leader and you are-

Well, nothing. You're nothing. God knows what he sees when he looks at you, other than the trainee he was unwillingly saddled with.

"Yeah," you acknowledge, because there's no use in denying it when you know they know the kind of hours you've been pulling. There being eight of them just means it's impossible to avoid running into one of them at every strange hour of the day. "If these are the last three months I have here, I don't want to waste any of it."

"You said that at the concert," Chan recalls. "You still feel like you're not going to debut?"

The memory sits awkwardly in the air of the room; you shift in your seat, shrugging as lightly as you can pull down the movement of your shoulders, trying to play it off. "Do you still think I'm scared of you too?" you question, trying to play it off easily rather than having the words slide heavy from your tongue.

Amusement dances in his eyes. "Maybe not so much," he answers. "You made a joke earlier."

You frown. "Is that...weird? I make jokes all the time, don't I?"

"Not as often as I'd like," he says, and then his face softens. "It was nice, though. So is this - us, talking."

"Mm," you hum, your mouth closed around several sentences that spring immediately to mind. The instinct to measure everything you say and watch your mouth is burnt into you, caution wrapping its cold little hands around your throat every time you start to relax. And now you don't know what to say, when it feels too pointed to make a joke after he's just pointed it out, and too crass to pull out excuses for why this sort of one-on-one rarely happens - and then silence stretches too thin, and time ticks too far onwards, and you've missed-

"Can I tell you what I think?" Chan says and leans back, his arms reaching towards the ceiling as he stretches.

A breath hitches in your chest, apprehension freezing it still. "Okay," you say, your hands twisting together.

His gaze is steady when it returns to you, his hand still where it comes to lie flat on the surface of his desk. In the background, Han shifts in his sleep, the couch cushions shifting underneath him. "I think you're scared to be one of us," he says, every word carefully measured against some weight you cannot see. "And you're scared to trust us. Maybe just me, specifically."

Your heart leaps into your throat in surprise, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. "I'm not-" you begin, but his hand lifts in the air, stopping you short.

"I don't mean in a bad way," he hurries to add, before you can go on. "I understand why; I wouldn't trust anyone either after what happened to you with Midnight. And I've been there before, you know, so...so I know why, I promise. But...I wish you would let me help you. I really want to help you."

You swallow hard, but the lump in your throat remains, the tears threatening to gather in the corners of your stinging eyes. Your stomach feels like its been turned upside down, your equilibrium shaken and turned around. "I..." you begin, as if you have a response, but nothing follows it, your mind racing to catch up in a conversation you hadn't expected to have and didn't plan for. "I...this is my last chance. If I stop, if I..."

"Hey," Chan says. "I understand, okay? And I'm not going to kick you out, or yell at you, or whatever it is you think a leader does. I like having you around, it's too late for all of that now, okay?"

The joke is light, struggling to lift itself in the oppressive air of the studio, but it makes its way to you anyway, lifting a little of the weight off of your shoulders. "I really like your music," you tell him, and push a deep breath down into the bottom of your lungs. "I want to be one of you, really, and I don't - I don't think you would do that, I swear, I just...I know that it's not always up to you. The company can do what they like, and if they think I don't look like I fit in, or I'm not working as hard as you do, or they just don't like how-"

"You shouldn't worry about that," Chan says over the top of you, his face changing. "That's my job - you leave that to me, and focus on the things your working on."

You look down at your hands, then over at Han - anywhere but his gaze, when you say, "I can't trust them to listen to you. Not until I make it to debut."

Chan falls silent, long enough that your eyes stray back to him, unable to look away for any longer. You find a mess of emotions written across his face, lit by the illumination of his computer screen as he messes with the mouse, his attention far away from the track he's idly playing with. 

"Okay," he says when he's done, forcing his hand to move away from the keyboard. "I meant to talk you out of burning yourself out, but I don't think that's going to work."

"Sorry," you say mutely, and feel your shoulders hunch.

"It's okay," he says, before you can retract into yourself completely. "It's okay to be scared. It is scary. So, let's come to an agreement."

There's an unintended challenge in his voice, a way that his eyes watch you that incentivises you to sit up straighter and swallow down all that cold anxiety that freezes in your veins. "Okay," you say willingly. "Like what?"

You like the silent approval you see in his face, the way his mouth relaxes and starts to untwist from the frown it had turned itself into several minutes ago. "You promise me that you know how to take care of yourself, and you can practise as much as you feel like you need to until debut and we won't stop you," he says, "but after debut, you promise you're going to slow down. And you're going to trust me."

It's funny - you hadn't thought anything but the result at the end of these three months would make you feel better, but somehow, he strings together the exact right words to lift that weight off your chest and shine a light down the tunnel. You hadn't thought anyone would be able to do that. Maybe that's why you'd been locked away in the dance rooms, all alone; maybe he was right that you didn't trust anyone, and that maybe you should start.

"I can do that," you say, nodding in agreement. "And I can take care of myself. I won't debut if I'm injured, or I collapse or something."

"Good," he says, satisfied, and then adds, "And you come over for dinner, whenever we invite you. And you go out with your friends again. One of the girls from Midnight chased me down the other day to ask about you, and honestly I'm kind of scared of ignoring her."

"Minseo," you say and, inexplicably, you smile. "Sorry. She's...an extrovert."

"Two jokes," Chan points out, and then laughs at the look on your face, turning away to shut down his computer. "It was fine. She was cool. You have good taste in friends."

"We've been here together for a long time," you say, your eyes idly tracking the movement of his mouse. You glance at the clock in the corner of his screen just by chance - and then do a double take when you see the number there, squinting as if you've misread it. "Is it four AM?"

"It is, actually," Chan sighs as the screen goes dark, closing the laptop and pushing his chair back towards the couch. "Time to go home, I think. Do you want to walk with us?" 

His hand reaches out to rouse Han, the other reaching for the boy's phone, left abandoned on his desk. His coffee still sits abandoned on the ground, long gone cold since that first conversation in the group chat that had led to all of this. Funny, how that one little thing, left forgotten on the floor, had led to a night you wouldn't soon forget. 

"I'd love to," you reply, and reach for the coffee before anyone can knock it over, throwing it in the trash. 

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit @jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @slutfortits @duhgurl @cheshireshiya @worcesheshestershiresauce @defnotfertilizedtoesw

[fullsunised]

nct dream reaction when you get drunk (i’m drunk rn watching a movie and giggling) i thought this would be cute

𝗔𝗠𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞!

❝ 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 ❞

𝖭𝖢𝖳 𝖣𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖬²³: 𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖭 𝖸𝖮𝖴'𝖱𝖤 𝖣𝖱𝖴𝖭𝖪

genre: fluff

trigger warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

a/n: welp inspiration randomly struck me yesterday and here it is. apologies for the inactivity, hope yall doing well!

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊  ❝ 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗟𝗘𝗘 ❞

he's laughing his ass off the whole time. the infamous giggles never leave him, all while he's taking care of you. he always complains about you drinking over thr limit but bro does he adore this side of you.

honestly I only see him do the laughing his ass off part more than the taking care of you and putting you to bed part. is sending videos of you being stupid to his family.

during your hangover tho, you're basically defending yourself in the family groupchat while mark is yet again laughing at your cute ass.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊  ❝ 𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗨𝗡 𝗛𝗨𝗔𝗡𝗚 ❞

sighs and sighs. bro is frustrated icl. he's always telling you to not drink more than what you can take but obviously when did you ever listen to him. is complaining under his breathe, while taking care of you.

makes sure to remove your makeup off, your shoes off, your clothes off and change you into something comfortable. but at a point he'd grow so tired of it, he just let's you figure your shit out the next morning.

which is basically you sitting on the kitchen stools groaning due to the pain in your head, while he watches you suffer (makes you hangover soup)

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊  ❝ 𝗝𝗘𝗡𝗢 𝗟𝗘𝗘 ❞

he most likely would stop you from drinking before you get worse, but on those days where he thinks you deserve to get drunk asf, he's a sweetie.

does every single thing for you and honestly doesn't say no to anything your drunk self asks him.icecream? yes. shower? yes. sex? yes. kisses and cuddles? yes. literally anything. bro just let's you live while he's there taking care of you, making sure you don't hurt yourself. puts you to bed, and admires your passed out self.

morning would be waking up to his kisses, going to get breakfast together or maybe going on a run to wake your brain up.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊  ❝ 𝗛𝗔𝗘𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡 𝗟𝗘𝗘 ❞

bro is drinking with you man. he thinks it's unfair only one of you gets drunk, and the other stuck taking care of the other. both of you would be long gone messes, messing about on the streets- but there are times you come home drunk from work.

then he's honestly just letting you pass out. of course, he let's you wrap your arms around him like a koala, and snore to death. also, he's gonna click funny asf pictures, like from every angle, legit makes an album as well.

morning comes and both of you are groaning, him because his hand is sore and you because your head. you take your pills and go on about your day, except his teasing is increased.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊  ❝ 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗡 𝗡𝗔 ❞

absolute sweetheart </3 literally picks you up from the door, drops you onto the bed, brings hot water to clean you up, gives you water to drink, listens to you rant about everything and anything. is like prepared for it because you warn him first hand lol.

just like jeno, he too would agree to anything. movie watching, game playing, cooking- anything literally. coos at you the whole time, mentally saves this image of you in his head because no matter how many sides of you he's seen, this would be his favourite.

breakfast in bed, princess ;)) would get you pills, some soup, some good food all at your service. bro get me a jaemin :(

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊  ❝ 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗡𝗟𝗘 𝗭𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗚 ❞

literal menace. all he does half of the time is record. atp his phone doesn't have enough storage due to the shit ton of video and photo content he has on you. his top priority would be to laugh at your stupidity and maybe post it online.

his second poa probably would be to put you to sleep. he legit finds you so adorable and so annoying both at the same time. literally shoves your face onto the pillow and forces you to sleep. has his airpods on, scrolling and you're next to him snoring. comfort fr.

boy doesn't do shit in the morning, or so he complains but still does it for you anyways cause he loves you too much.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ✧. ┊  ❝ 𝗝𝗜𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 ❞

literally looses his mind. didn't know you had this side in you, and honestly he loves it, but the stress dominates the love- the stress of taking care of you perfectly. literally googles shit every single time even if he has done that before.

follows every step, does everything you ask and when you finally fall asleep blud just releases the longest sigh of his life. falls next to you his arm draped over figure. kisses your forehead, and drifts off to sleep himself.

bro googles how to make hangover soup, but gives up and orders it. literally does his best every time.

©️FULLSUNISED.

[justanamesstuff]

Chapter 1

Seasons

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: Hiii guys, I'm so nervous for this BUT very excited too!! I hope you like it <3

Warnings: swearing a bit?, typos maybe.

Word count: 3 K

MASTERLIST TAGLIST

Every season has its colours, has its smells, has its traditions. Like every season, this love has its particularities…

Around November of 2020, England

“Matty- Oh my god!!“ 

The constant banging on her wall and the high-pitched moaning at the other side woke Y/n up. Quickly, she took her pillow and placed it on top of her face, trying to muffle the horrible sounds reaching her ears. ‘God, is she having a good time? Or he’s killing her?’, the thought crossed the girl's mind. 

Most of the time they weren’t that loud, but during that morning they just seemed to not care.

It was useless, the sounds were getting louder and louder. Y/n couldn’t bear with it any more and knowing that even if they –luckily– stopped she wouldn’t come back to sleep. So, Y/n decided to go downstairs. Maybe one of the guys was making breakfast, which would help with the awful start of her day.

Her prayers weren’t heard. The kitchen was empty and no breakfast was made. She tried to cheer up a little, because Y/n needed to survive the day. To be honest, every day and morning it was getting harder and harder.

After a quiet but long sigh, Y/n started cooking for everyone. Nothing unusual since she tried to do it most of the mornings in exchange for their generosity letting her stay at the boys' studio –which was half Matty’s house as well. Spending the quarantine rent-free with them, listening how they recorded the new album and messing around was a true blessing if she tried to focus on the bright side of everything. 

Well, they kind of forced her because they were very against Y/n spending those months alone in her flat. The boys cared about the girl as a best friend and as a sister too. They were a bunch of drama queens most of the time, but deep down Y/n was enormously grateful with/for them.

Thinking about the first months, Y/n couldn’t deny those were amazing. The entire group spent a lot of quality time, doing the stupidest challenges, doing Instagram lives for the fans, watching a lot of movies, etc. Although everything took a turn when another person joined the party. When Nadia arrived.

It wasn’t like Y/n hated her, in fact, it was the opposite which created a big dilemma for her. Matty’s girlfriend was nice and the idea of having another girl was actually  comforting during the tough times. But Y/n wasn’t so fond of the situation for other reasons.

For a period –a very long one– if you asked her, she endured with it and put on her best –fake– happy face. Y/n’s acting talents were very handy at times. Although, her true feelings were still there, underneath the surface, where no one can notice them. Specially Matty.

 Time went by and the whole thing was making her more anxious, and although the idea of leaving crippled into her mind at every minute, she couldn’t really decide. Y/n didn’t want to leave but watching Matty 24/7 attached to the other girl’s side was taking the best of her mental health.

Y/n’s mind was running fast with thoughts while she cooked, which made her subconsciously ignore the tall man coming down after he heard movement downstairs. George watched his friend move around, knowing more than anyone in the house about her sorrows. George was probably the closest to her out of the four guys. He was the only one who knew all of her secrets and kept it secured as if it was his own.

The drummer stared at her, expecting for Y/n to notice him, but he acknowledged that the girl was in another dimension. She used to do that more than she liked to admit. George could bet ‘the morning moaning festival’ taking place half an hour prior was the main reason.

Y/n finished cooking a big amount of scrambled eggs and turned searching for a plate when she saw George standing in the partially lighted corridor. “Fuck G! You scared the shit out of me!” she exclaimed while resting a hand on her chest.

“Sorry!” the big man shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t mean to scare you, love.” he apologized, approaching his best friend. “Good morning.” he greeted her properly, and she huffed.

“Good morning to you.” Y/n answered sarcastically after G placed a kiss on top of her head. 

“So, you heard, huh?”

“I can’t stand it any more, G.” she let him know. “It’s just a lot.” she continued, lowering her voice scared another of the boys could hear her.

“I know, love.” the drummer said with an apologetic expression. “But the lockdown is nearly over, and y’know none of us would like you to go.” G said as he searched for mugs.

“Why not? It’s my life, my freedom!” Y/n protested, starting to get annoyed. “It’s getting worse every day…” Y/n desperately moved her hands in the air trying to prove her point.

“Believe me… I know!” George searched for her eyes, keeping eye contact when Y/n looked back at him, waiting for his next words. “I’m not in your…situation, but I’m getting a little annoyed too.” G agreed with her.

“Yes, but it’s his house. He can do whatever he wants…”

“I half agree.” G nodded. “This might be his house, but it’s the place we choose as a studio, so for the time being its our place too…yours too!” George continued rambling, filling the mugs with hot water. “So, they need to stop with the noises.”

A comfortable silence fell between them until Y/n broke it again thinking out loud.

“What the hell can I do?” 

“About what?” A third voice came from the hallway. Matty made his entrance wearing a tired expression matching his gray sweatpants and plain shirt. He approached Y/n, leaving her a kiss on her right cheek. “What can you do about what, love?” he rephrased his question. 

“I- It’s nothing — Morning” she said without looking at him, instead walking towards the table bringing a mug with her.

“There must be something. You sounded worried.” Matty insisted.

“It’s something between Y/n and I, mate.” George said in a joking way, trying to distract him. “Something between best pals, you wouldn’t understand it.” he stated, rounding Y/n with his left arm meanwhile he winked at Matty taking a sip of his morning tea.

“Fuck off!” Matty protested. They usually have a competition about the title which Y/n find equally lame and cute. She easily felt the tension leaving her shoulders, relaxing thanks to their stupid discussion, knowing that for now Matty dropped his interrogation.

“Tell him, darling!” G urged her.

“It’s too early for this fight. Shut up and sit. I’ll bring the cutlery.” Y/n said, detaching herself from George. 

“Y/n is just too nice to tell ya, mate. She loves me more.” the singer continued joking, obviously unaware of the real implication of his words.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Matty.” George answered, sitting at his usual spot at the table.

“Who was the beautiful soul that made breakfast?” Ross entered the kitchen and stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and inhaling dramatically.

“You know the answer.” John teased as he appeared from behind Ross. “You know you don’t have to, Y/n.” the musician approached her and helped with the forks and knives.

“Yes, for the hundred times…I know, John.” she looked at him. “But we all know that I would feel guilty since you all never let me pay for anything.”

“Because you don’t have to pay us, love.” Matty said from his place at the table with his sight fixed on his phone. He and the damn nicknames.

“But- “

“No but’s, Y/n. We’re happy to have you here!” Ross said as they all sat around the table.

They were serving breakfast when the conversation took another direction -something about the coronavirus and all of that. At the same time, the last resident of the house made her entrance.

Y/n sometimes envied her. Matty’s girlfriend always looked immaculate to a point that you could never think she just woke up. Y/n knew comparisons were wrong, but it was hard to avoid them. The girl felt awful: her hair was all tangled in a messy bun on the top of her head; only wearing an old t-shirt -from a not so famous band--and a pair of pyjamas short; and she was not wearing any makeup meanwhile she stuffed her breakfast on her face.

Nadia was all classy and perfect, the opposite of Y/n. Maybe that’s why he chose her and not his best friend. Y/n knew thinking like that was also wrong, yet again she couldn’t help it.

Y/n witnessed how Nadia greeted everyone and sat beside Matty, flashing him a cute smile he returned. They were in love, and it was obvious to everyone. Y/n was so happy for her best friend to find someone who loved him, although for many years she hoped that person would be her. For years, Y/n hoped Matty noticed her more than a mate.

When they first met, Y/n thought she felt a connection different from with anyone else in her life, although that changed quickly. Matty proved to her time and time again he didn’t want a relationship with her or nothing similar no matter how flirty he was during that first night. And Y/n forced herself her mind and heart to believe it.

Y/n was very unaware that, at the time she met the boys, Matty felt the same way she felt, but the old Matty didn’t want to lose the new friend he encountered. As another way to self sabotage himself, the young Matty did almost the impossible to show Y/n they were friends and just friends. A decision he took while being drunk became a life rule.

Since that moment, since that night, their relationship was kind of determinate. They were friends, the best friends. Not that night, but after a while, Y/n became part of the family and even Matty’s family –both sides– loved her as another member of their family. Y/n felt safe and loved, something she cherished so much since she hadn’t had that kind of love back home. Her family wasn’t like them, the opposite in fact.

For the longest time, Y/n tried to ditch her feeling for Matty. Every time a new girl showed up, tugged under his arm, Y/n decided it was the time to stop getting hurt and move on. Even though, her heart couldn’t do it. It hurt her. And with Nadia was the hardest since all of them could notice it was different, more mature…more serious. Nadia was more than a random girl for Matty and everyone was sure of that.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Matty interrupted Y/n’s inner monologue, staring at her, while his right arm was around Nadia.

“What?” Y/n answered, coming down to earth, with a question. 

“You were gone.” everyone was strangely in silence while they looked at each other.

“I was just thinking about the government lifting the restrictions. Meaning, now I can go home.” she half lied, while messing with the leftovers of her breakfast. Y/n did chat about it with G that morning anyway, and it was a reality Y/n needed to get away from the lovers for a time.

“I told her, none of us want that.” George interrupted their conversation.

“Of course not.” Jaime, who joined the breakfast table, said to her.

“I know, guys. But it’s been almost four months and I- This is not my- “

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Matty warned her, and she looked him directly in the eyes.

“It’s the truth, Matty.” she said, dropping her fork on the plate.

“It’s not, this is your house too, Y/n/n.” Ross, sweet Ross, reminded her. “At the same time, if you want to go back to your flat, I understand. We’ll miss your meals.” his comment made everyone chucked, except Matty who was studying every one of her movements. 

A weak smile was plastered on her face while she stared down towards her plate unable to make eye contact with Matty. “Don’t get me wrong. I love being here with you guys, but I need my space.”

“If this is about some couple…” Jaime looked at Matty and Nadia “Waking up the whole house.” he finished the sentenced winking like a cartoon.

“For fuck's sake.” Matty swore under his breath. “Is it about that?” he looked at Y/n.

“‘Course not!” she looked at him trying her hardest to hide her feelings.

“I wouldn’t blame you if that’s the reason. I’m sleeping on the other side of the house and I can listen to them. You’re right beside Matty’s room!” John emphatically said.

Before Matty could say a word, Y/n exclaimed, “It’s not about that, okay?” she simply lied. 

Y/n could sense George staring at her. “It’s what I said, I need my space, and it’s not like I’m going to disappear.” another white lie. Y/n was planning to do exactly that for a while until her wounds healed again. “You’ll still have to bear with me.” she finished her little speech.

“We can simply send the couple to your flat, and you can stay here in peace” Ross joked this time. All of them except for Matty laughed again.

“Stop with that, he will get angry.” Y/n defended Matty.

“I know it’s not my house either,” Nadia started saying. “If I can say something, I would like you to stay, Y/n.” she continued rather shyly. “It’s nice to have a girl around.” Of course, she was so nice. “I promised we’ll keep it down.” she looked quickly at Matty for reassurance and then again at her.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry you’ll have to survive with these boys, but I really need to go.” Y/n explained. “Another reason is the fact that I have to prepare to get back to work soon.”

“So, when did you start thinking about leaving? Since you apparently have a lot of reasons to leave.” Matty said with a strange expression on his face.

“Matty-”

“Are you that eager to leave?” ‘He was pissed?’, Y/n thought. 

“Matty- “she protested, not knowing what else to say.  

“No, it’s okay. I get it! You want to leave, it’s okay.” he stood up from his seat gathering the plates to wash them.

“Matty!” Y/n said again.

“It’s fine, Y/n!” he said more sternly, obviously not fine with the situation. 

The rest of the group –included Nadia–, took that as a cue to leave the friends so they could talk. They made stupid excuses, leaving Matty and Y/n alone in the kitchen.

Matty went to the sink, beginning to wash the dishes. After letting a big breath out, Y/n stood up approaching where he was standing.

“Why are you so angry?” she asked him, folding her arms, standing beside Matty looking at his profile. Matty was stroking the plates with more force than needed for the task in hand.

“I’m not. I said that I got it, and it’s fine.” he answered.

“You’re obviously not fine, Matthew.”

“Do you want to know how am I? Perfect.” he stated, turning the water off and drying his hand with a cloth while he turned to look at her. “I really don’t get it why you want to leave so suddenly.”

“It’s not that I want to- “another big lie. She wanted to, she needed to.

“Bullshit!”

Y/n tried to defend herself, “I’m not going to disappear…”

“Bullshit!”

“Can you stop that?” Y/n stood directly in front of Matty. 

“I know you’re going to disappear. I know you. We’re best friends and something is bothering you, I can tell. It hurts that you’re not telling me anything and I fucking bet you told George already.” She couldn’t tell him the truth.

“Is this more about that competition?” Y/n tried to distract him.

“Yes- No- Of course, not- This is about you and me.” Matty said, melting her heart a little. He was obviously troubled with the idea of Y/n leaving.

“Matty, there is nothing…mayor going on. Trust me. I need silence. You said it, you know me. I crave my space…alone.” she told him sweeter this time.

“Yes, I know. But you can find somewhere here-“

“You know that’s a lie.” ‘What a hypocrite I am’, Y/n thought. 

“I know.”

“You aren’t gonna miss me. You have the boy and Nadia- “she moved uncomfortably in her place.

“It’s not the same, you’re my best friend. I’ll miss you, darling.” Matty looked at her with his best doggy eyes.

“Don’t!” Y/n pointed a finger at him.

“What?” he played dumb.

“Don’t give me puppy eyes, it won’t work.” she smiled this time.

“Shit, are you so certain about it?” he looked down, defeated.

“Yes.” Y/n simply said.

“Okay, I understand. You can go.”

“Thanks for your permission that I didn’t ask for.” Y/n tried to joke.

“But- “ he ignored her.

“But?”

“But promise me that you are not going to disappear for too long.” he said, staring directly into her eyes.

“I promise.” Y/n said way too quickly. After a couple of seconds, she had to look elsewhere.

“Can we hug?” he said very slowly. 

Y/n chuckled, placing her arms around his shoulders, at the same time Matty placed his on her waist.

“I love you.” Matty mumbled on her left shoulder.

“I love you too, Matty.” Y/n said, feeling it from the deepest of her heart. There lied the difference. 

Maybe, she couldn’t love anyone like she loved Matty, even though she had to try for the good of their relationship. 

-------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @hollybrislen

[nhl-stories]

midnight love – Anthony Beauvillier

Summary: Hannah was ready to accept her fate as second choice, but a newcomer just entered the picture

Author’s Note: Oh my god I've been working through this for so long and then bam that trade happens. And changed how I was going to end this so I'm a bit distraught.

Word Count: 3.9k

Album Series Masterlist

I can't be your midnight love When your silver is my gold

She wishes she had enough of a backbone to disappoint people, if only in self-preservation. But no, instead Hannah is spending another night as a stand in.

It’s not like these people aren’t her friends, but there’s a hierarchy; they’re Brock’s friends and teammates first, then Cora’s friends and fellow significant others, then at the bottom of the list is Hannah.

At least it’s just a team dinner, not some event where she has to explain over and over again that no, she is not Brock’s girlfriend, just a friend. Usually throw in a joke about taking advantage of an open bar or nice dinner.

His real girlfriend is prettier and more talented, just busy with her emergency medicine residency. Hannah is just a placeholder so he doesn’t have to go somewhere alone.

Don’t worry, Brock isn’t slumming it with the plain-looking girl who works in a fish market.

He’s with Cora: head cheerleader and prom queen in high school, first in her class in college and med school, Miss British Columbia who probably would have been Miss Canada if she wasn’t too busy studying to be a fucking doctor.

Hannah’s only a little bitter.

To be fair, she did it to herself. She spent her whole life as Cora’s less-than-impressive sidekick, she should have seen it coming.

Hannah should have thought twice before introducing Cora to Brock, should have known Cora would charm him and ask him out before Hannah could even tell her how she felt about him. And then it was a year and a half of worming her way into Brock’s heart down the drain.

Brock and Cora are good match. They look like a Barbie and Ken set and then they’re personable and kind on top of it.

Still, Brock can’t seem to take Hannah off a pedestal. It’s a little lower than Cora’s, but a pedestal nonetheless. Maybe if she jumps off, it will put her out of her misery.

“You’re Brock’s girlfriend? The doctor?”

Hannah’s head snaps up from stabbing the cherry in her drink, to see a new face. Anthony Beauvillier, her brain supplies.

“Oh no, just a friend filling in,” she bites back her initial reaction of a barking laugh, “You’re Anthony, welcome to Vancouver.”

“Thanks, so just a friend, what’s your name?”

“Oh, right, Hannah.”

“Hannah since you’re here and not a significant other, I can assume you know all the dirt.”

Hannah blushes under his gaze. His eyes are so blue she can’t seem to keep direct eye contact. So, they keep drifting to his hair, she hadn’t realized he had such soft looking locks since she mostly had seen him on TV with a helmet.

“I guess, what do you want to know?”

She tries to be coy; she definitely knows more than most. She’s so present but so unassuming she guesses she must be easy to open up to.

“Is it really a big deal that Petey brought around a girl?”

“There hasn’t been a lot of exciting off-ice news this season. But I’ve known him for almost 4 years and I’ve barely seen him flirt with a girl, so to bring a girlfriend is kind of big deal. Although between you and me I think he’s been hung up on her for a while.”

Anthony nods.

“The only thing before this was Quinn broke up with his girlfriend from back home and then just started showing up with a new girlfriend like a month later. But Samantha has been accepted into the fold so it’s not really gossip anymore.”

“You really do know the low down.”

“I can’t give you much on-ice info, but off-ice dynamics, I’m your woman.”

He gives her a crooked smile and starts to say something, when a hand grabs her elbow a bit too tight.

“Dinner is starting, I got us seats,” Brock tugs her towards the table that’s filling up.

“Nice talking to you Anthony,” she gently pulls her arm out of Brocks grip.

“Yeah, let’s do it again sometime.”

∫∫∫

“You smell like fish,” Cora says as Hannah sits down next her in the stands.

She pulls up her collar and gives it a sniff, she doesn’t smell anything, “I changed before I came here.”

“I think it’s just embedded itself into your skin at this point.”

“You smelled like a barn when we met and I still became your friend, even though everyone said you smelled like horse butt.”

“Well, the tables have turned and now you’re the stinky friend.”

“Fuck off,” Hannah laughs and flips her friend off.

Cora reaches in her purse for a tiny spray bottle of perfume, “I got you covered my fishy friend,” she gives her a spritz.

“Did I miss anything interesting?”

“I just got here, like 10 minutes before you. Had a last-minute surgery.”

“So, we were both working with guts before we came.”

“Yeah, and hopefully after this, number six will be rearranging my guts.”

Hannah laughs, but it’s hollow. They’ve been together long enough it shouldn’t still sting, but somehow it does.

Thankfully, there’s a big hit on the ice to shift their focus.

“The new guy is pretty cute,” Cora says when play settles.

“Anthony?”

“Yeah, you met him at that dinner thing, right?”

The tone in Cora’s voice makes it clear that she knows something Hannah doesn’t. That she’s toying with her food.

“Mm-hmm, he seems nice.”

“Brock said he was flirting with you. He was all worked up about it too, like ‘this new guy comes in and just charms the first girl he sees, what if Hannah was my girlfriend?’”

Hannah forces herself to focus on the puck traveling down the ice. She can’t look at Cora, let her see something she might jump on

The puck is blown dead, icing, and Hannah tries to keep her face blank when she turns, “He was just trying to meet the group and be friendly.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him. Why would he be trying to flirt with you?”

Hannah bites her tongue, she knows Cora means why would he be flirting with someone at a team dinner, when most women there would be taken. It doesn’t mean it’s any less hurtful. Like Cora isn’t digging her finger into the soft flesh of her biggest insecurities. 

“Brock’s just protective of what’s his,” Cora adds like that’s not another sharp jab.

A wave of nausea rolls over Hannah.

The boys win by one in a mostly winless season, which is good reason to go out and celebrate. Hannah is wrangled into one of Cora’s dresses, and doused in her perfume, and dragged to a club.

One out of three of those things is Hannah’s choice.

“You smell nice,” Brock leans over to whisper in her ear, reaching across her body to steal a gulp from her drink.

Her body involuntarily flushes, like it always does when Brock casually invades her space. So completely unaware of the effect he has on her.

“I smell like your girlfriend,” she hates the way her voice wavers.

“Where is she anyway?” He stares out into the crowd, arm casually thrown over Hannah’s shoulder.

“Dancing with some of the girlfriends,” she waves in the direction the group went.

“Not like you to not join in,” he gives her a smile that used to be reserved for her only.

“It’s been a long day,” she shrugs, “which reminds me, Cora said certain things that mean if I want a good night’s sleep, bring her back to your place.”

“So, I’m scoring off the ice too?”

Hannah gags, “second star on and off the ice.”

Brock laughs and gives her gentle shove.

“I’m gonna get a drink, need a refill?”

Hannah gives him a thumbs up.

She watches him walk towards the bar and Cora appear out of thin air to wrap herself around him. Hannah knows she’ll be waiting on that drink forever.

“Looked like you could use a refill,” a solid wall of warmth slides up next to her, a drink placed in front of her.

She should have been expecting it to be Anthony, but she’s surprised. A warm feeling rolling over her thinking about how Brock thought he was flirting.

“Thanks, Brock’s useless,” she holds up the glass in cheers and takes a sip.

Over the rim of the glass, she catches two blondes sucking face, having their foreplay in front of everyone.

“Do you want to get out of here?” She blurts without thinking of the implication, maybe not caring.

Anthony gapes at her forwardness before Hannah’s brain catches up, “Like to a quieter bar?”

“Sure.”

Hannah takes him to a dive bar, where they drink crappy beer in tall boys and play darts. She’s too dressed up for the location but it doesn’t matter, they only have eyes for each other.

“You worked on a crabbing boat?” Anthony asks incredulously.

The alcohol is already having her run hot, but the focus from Anthony- or Tito or Beau as he said people call him- feels like a direct sunray. She’s the listener not the talker. Yet, there’s something disarming about Anthony, makes her walls fall away, makes her want to talk as much as she listens.

“Yeah, it was a quick way to make a lot of money in a few months, and it was exciting. There aren’t a lot of crabs the past few years so I haven’t had a chance to go back. And I’m not very smart so I have limited options.”

“You’re talking to a hockey player, I’m also not very smart and have limited options.”

“That’s probably explains why Brock and I became such good friends, although he did go to some college,” she grins and throws her last dart.

Anthony doesn’t make a move to start his turn, “so you and Brock were never–“ he cuts himself off with a throw.

“More than friends?” Hannah supplies.

“Yeah,” Anthony visibly tinges pink even in the darkened bar.

Hannah can’t quite vocalize her answer, worried the timbre of her voice will give away all the thoughts and feelings she’s been hiding. She shakes her head instead.

“If Brock was being weird, I think he was just vetting you. As a teammate and if you were worth my affections or something. Not that you were actually flirting with me.”

“I was,” Anthony looks her straight on, no doubt on his face or in his voice.

Something snaps inside Hannah, bursting red-hot in her veins. She’s not going to sit back and wait this time; she’s going to lean into what she’s feeling and grab it tight.

She drags Anthony towards to the back of the bar, pushing him into the bathroom and pushing him against the door once inside. She feels a little depraved, but she drives through the feeling and kisses Anthony.

He’s quick to kiss back, tongue slipping past her lips, gentling her erratic movements. He grabs her hips gently, but firm. He’s a wave of cold water crashing into her molten lava body. Nature in symbiosis.

“I don’t normally do this,” she says between kisses.

He moves his hands up to her waist, he doesn’t stop kissing her, just moves down her jaw closer to her ear, “and this is what you want?”

He sinks in his teeth into the hinge of her jaw, she gasps.

“I want–“ her voice is shaky.

She doesn’t know how to say it or ask for it. She just wants the light of his attention, on her, his whole-hearted focus directed at only her, like no one else exists.

“Cause I want more than a bathroom hookup, but I’ll take what I can get,” she can feel his smile against her skin.

There’s a bang on the door then someone yells, “You don’t have to go, but you can’t stay here!”

It’s like being dunked in the ice-cold Pacific.

She gives him one more peck, “Another time?”

∫∫∫

They find themselves in another bathroom, this time in Demko’s house while the team has a party. Hannah on the counter and Anthony in a vice grip between her knees.

“Sorry, couldn’t wait until after the party.”

Hannah can’t hold back her smile. Hasn’t been for almost two weeks now. They hadn’t seen each other again, but had been texting. If Cora asks, she says it’s Brock being stupid. If Brock asks, she says it’s Cora being dramatic.

“I like it,” digging her fingers into his hair, it’s as soft as it looks.

 “But we can’t take too long,” she adds, though she doesn’t kiss like someone with an exit plan.

“I’ll take my time tonight,” he whispers against her lips.

Voices drift closer to the door when they finally decide to peel apart. Hannah fixes where she mussed his hair as best she can, before peeking to see if the coast is clear.

She makes her way through the kitchen to casually grab a drink and slides up next to Cora and her conversation with the other better halves.

She’s trying to ease herself into the conversation but her mind is elsewhere. In the future and whatever tonight is going to be and in the present glancing over to see Anthony trying to do the same.

Cora elbows her before leaning in, “Classic hot mess Hannah.”

“What?”

“Your very dumb, signature move,” Cora grins, “you forgot to wipe your lipstick off his mouth before you reintegrated back into society.”

Hannah tries to casually glance back at Anthony, he looks towards her at the same time and grins. His lips a shade too pink to be natural. Hannah mimes wiping her lips with the back of her hand, hoping he’ll get the message.

“You dirty girl, I’d recognize that nude berry on any boy’s lips, which honestly let me find you a new color, you’ve been using that for like a decade now.”

Hannah tries to smile through her worry, but Cora knows her well enough to see through it.

“I’m very proud of you for getting him while the getting’s hot, but if you’re worried about me telling Brocky babe or something, don’t worry, secret’s safe with me,” she zips her lips and throws the key over her shoulder.

The giddy nerves in her stomach start fighting the anxious nerves in her stomach.

A heavy arm drapes over Hannah’s shoulder, “There you are, Cora said she saw you but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

That’s the thing, Hannah trusts Cora to keep a secret, she doesn’t quite trust herself.

“Almost feels like you’ve been hiding from me,” Brock laughs at the thought.

Cora joins in and gives Hannah a desperate look to join in as well, Hannah can feel her own laugh is too erratic, but Brock doesn’t seem phased.

“Babe, she’s allowed to have her own life, she’s not just our personal third wheel,” Cora pulls him into her own side.

“Technically Cora, you’re the third wheel to our friendship,” he grins and gives her a peck.

Hannah feels nauseous.

“Oh honey, you’re the third wheel to Hannah and I’s friendship, it’s been around the longest.”

They’re not even acting like Hannah is involved in this conversation, she takes the opportunity to duck out. She grabs another a drink and goes out to the unused balcony. It’s still too cold to hang out there at night, the air is the kind of wet-cold that you can feel in every breath.

“How long have you been in love with Brock?”

Hannah jumps at his voice, barely managing to keep a hold on her bottle of beer.

“I’m not really in love with him anymore,” there’s no use in lying if she’s that transparent.

“Is that why this all secretive?”

Anthony’s eyes are so big, endless blue that Hannah isn’t sure how to read. She wants to learn.

She has reasons lined up: she doesn’t want to effect team chemistry, doesn’t want to ruin her friendships if this goes south, doesn’t want to fall in love with another hockey player.

But all those reasons are logical and rational. And this is emotional in a way she’s not sure she can find room for in her body.

“It’s nice to have something that’s just mine,” she furrows her brow, feels like it’s not quite what she means.

“I’m not the smartest or the prettiest or the most anything, I’m just Hannah. But you act like that’s enough. I’m not just a consolation prize or silver you’re settling for because you can’t have gold.”

Anthony doesn’t say anything for a long time, Hannah feels like maybe they froze outside.

Then he takes a step forward, cupping her face with hands so warm they burn her cheeks. He kisses her slowly; Hannah doesn’t think anyone has ever kissed her like this. Like she’s something precious, worth savoring.

He pulls away and smirks, “I’ve kind of been wishing for silver my whole life.”

“Jesus Christ, is that a Stanley Cup joke?” her smile grows so big it swallows her face.

“Like I’ve said I’m not that smart or that clever either.”

Hannah just has to kiss that stupid smile off his face, not caring who can see them through the windows.

∫∫∫

Brock is pissed.

He acts like everyone doesn’t know what it’s about. Like they don’t notice the glares he sends Beau when he walks into the locker room or how his knuckles go white around a beer bottle when he sees Hannah dance with Anthony at club.

They all let him sulk for a week, without saying anything.

Teammates start to chirp him when it lasts longer.

It comes to a head when Brock goes to a team event alone and brings his mood home to Cora.

“You’re not even his ex or something,” Cora is pretending to be the slowest customer of all time at the fish counter while she complains.

Hannah sort of wishes it was a rush so she could usher her friend away, she’s so over dealing with Brock. The jealousy that she would have killed for a few months ago is starting to become overkill and Hannah kind find it in her to be bothered.

It’s funny that the first time she’s all Brock can think about, is also the first time she doesn’t give a shit about it.

“He’s never had to share you with someone else and now I’m like invisible or something.”

That make Hannah pause.

In all the years she’s known Cora she’s the never been self-conscious, never had a reason to be.

She has to bite back the spiteful smile, it’s nice to be reminded that Cora is a mere mortal too.

“I’ll talk to him, can’t have you feeling lesser than me.”

Cora scoffs, “Hey, don’t talk about my best friend like that.”

Hannah rolls her eyes.

“I’m serious bitch, I don’t know why it took so long for it to get through your head, but I’m glad someone finally makes you feel on top of the world.”

The next night Hannah and Anthony are at Brock’s door.

He opens the door and almost shuts it in their face, but Hannah catches the door with her foot and shoves Anthony through the door.

“It’s an ambush babe,” Cora squeezes Brock shoulders, trying to make him unclench an iota.

“I come bearing the traditional British Columbian peace offering, a fillet of fish,” she nobly holds out the wrapped package in her arms.

Brock almost cracks smile.

“Brocky babe, why don’t you help her prep the fish and I will fix Beau here a drink.”

Hannah drags him into the kitchen before he can argue or pout.

She doesn’t really need prep; she knows her way around the kitchen already and the recipe like the back of her hand.

She pulls out a knife and points it at Brock.

“I’ll let you be upset for the time it takes me to cook this fish, and then you’re going to snap out of it.”

She gets to work, “You love Cora, you love that she loves hiking and boating and your dogs. You love that she’s as passionate about her job as you are. You love that she moved the fucking earth to make your dad passing as easy as possible for you.”

Brock’s face is set in stone.

“So why the fuck are you so bent out of shape about me dating someone, to the point where your perfect girlfriend is jealous of me?”

“Of all the people in the world you had to go for one of my teammates? What if something happens and I can’t even think of passing to him or it makes things weird with my teammates.” Brock snaps.

“Cause you’re doing a great job of that right now, Petey says he’s worried you’ll throw a punch soon.”

“Were you just using me until you could land the right hockey player?”

“Not everything I do is about you Brock. Sorry I let you think that for so long.”

She throws some of the fish in the hot pan, it sizzles like her nerves.

“I’m sorry it happened this way, it’s the last thing I would purposely try to do. But can’t you tell how happy he makes me?”

She feels her tears start to fall, hot and heavy. They’ve been locked and loaded for years.

“You didn’t want me when we met all those years ago, and that hurt. And then you fell for my best friend like instantly, and that hurt worse.  You don’t want me that way, so you don’t get to be mad that someone else does.”

Brock looks like he might cry, too.

“I love being your best friend. I love your dumb jokes and you’re stupid fucking laugh. But I can find that somewhere else if you can’t accept this.”

Brock squeezes her tight, she can feel his tears on the crown of her head.

“I want what’s best for you,” he pulls away, “sorry I have a dumb way of showing it, is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Pay my rent when you ask Cora to move in?”

Brock lets out one of his stupid fucking laughs, “maybe by next season you’ll also have a new place to live.”

Hannah shoves him away and plates the last of the fish, “the instant acceptance is appreciated, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

She goes to the dining room where the others are waiting with bated breath, pretending like they weren’t eavesdroping on the whole conversation.

“Hope you guys are ready for some tear-brined salmon for this very emotional and awkward double date.”

Anthony takes her hand when she sits down, she can’t help but kiss him. She likes the view off her pedestal.

[dailytomlinson]

During the pandemic the songwriter and producer James Vincent McMorrow would rise early, go for a run and write songs for Louis Tomlinson, of One Direction.

“I actually made half of a record for him,” he says. Tomlinson’s team “had a lot of songs but maybe not a lot that he was as into as he wanted to be. I think they were maybe looking for a weirdo. So they reached out to me. I love him. He’s a fascinating human being. I absolutely loved making that album,” adds McMorrow, who is about to start a tour of Ireland.

When it comes to potential collaborators with a boy band megastar, McMorrow’s name is not the first that springs to mind. He’s an indie songwriter whose open-veined, falsetto-driven pop has been compared to that of folkies such as Bon Iver and Sufjan Stevens. But Tomlinson was a fan of the Dubliner’s beautifully wrought music. He wasn’t alone: Drake famously sampled McMorrow on his 2016 track Hype.

One of the tracks they wrote together, The Greatest, would serve as the opener to Tomlinson’s second LP, Faith in the Future. As is often the way with the music industry, the rest are in a vault somewhere. Still, for McMorrow the opportunity to work with a pop star was about more than simply putting his craft in front of a wider audience. The call from Tomlinson’s team had come at a low point for the Irishman, who had become mired in confusion and doubt after signing to a major label for the first time in his career.

Executives at Columbia Records had recognised potential in McMorrow as an artist who bridged the divide between folk and pop. The fruits of that get-together would see daylight in September 2021 as the excellent Grapefruit Season LP, on which McMorrow teamed up with Paul Epworth, who has also produced Adele and Florence Welch.

The album was a beautifully gauzy rumination on the birth of his daughter and the muggy roller coaster of first-time parenthood. It went top 10 in Ireland and breached the top 100 in the UK. Yet the experience of working within the major-label system was strange for McMorrow, who at that point had been performing and recording for more than a decade. He didn’t hate it. But he knew he didn’t ever want to do it again.

“It was a weird time. I stopped touring in 2017. My daughter was born in 2018. I signed with Columbia Records at the same time and made a record that ... There were moments within it I was proud of. But fundamentally, I think if I was being very honest, I would say that I definitely got lost in the weeds of what the music industry wanted for me rather than what I wanted for myself.”

Finding his way out of the weeds involved putting out The Less I Knew, a mixtape of tracks, in 2022, and, in June 2024, Wide Open, Horses, the official follow-up to Grapefruit Season. It’s a fantastic reboot from an artist who has found his way into the light once again. The album showcases McMorrow’s propulsive voice – imagine a goth Bee Gees – and his ability to turn a diaristic observation about a tough day into musical quicksilver, as he does on White Out, a blistering ballad that draws on his experience of suffering a panic attack while out at the shops (“white out on the city street ... pain comes from strangest places”).

He workshopped the project with two concerts at the National Concert Hall in Dublin in March 2023, performing the as-yet-unfinished record all the way through. The risk of something going amiss was significant – which was why he did it in the first place.

“Those shows, that process was me very much back on my bullshit,” he says, meaning that, having tried to fit into a corporate structure, he was embracing his old idiosyncratic methods once again.

“I’m the worst sort of career musician in a lot of ways. I do the weird thing. I like doing things that make me interested selfishly. ‘I’m engaged with this process.’ ‘The stress of this is making me feel the way that I want to feel.’ And I’d lost that. Doing those two shows was me doing something where I was, like, ‘There’s stakes to this’ ... ‘If I f**k this up, people are going to see it.’ That brings out the best in me.”

McMorrow grew up in Malahide, the well-to-do town in north Co Dublin; as a secondary-school student he suffered debilitating shyness. In 2021 he revealed that he had struggled with an eating disorder at school, ending up in hospital (“Anorexia that progressed into bulimia”). He was naturally retiring, not the sort to crave the spotlight. But he was drawn to music. “It was definitely a difficult journey,” he says. He wasn’t alone in that. “The musicians that tend to cut through and make it ... A lot of my friends, musicians that are successful, they’re not desperate for the stage.”

The Tomlinson collaboration was part of his strange relationship with the mainstream music industry. It went back to McMorrow’s third LP, Rising Water, from 2016. A move away from his earlier folk-pop, the project had featured engineering from Ben Ash, aka Two Inch Punch, a producer who had worked with chart artists such as Jessie Ware, Sia and Wiz Khalifa.

That was followed by the Drake sample in 2016 and by McMorrow writing the song Gone, which was at one point set to be recorded by a huge pop star whom he’d rather not identify.

“Gone is the red herring of red herrings in my entire career. I wrote that song for other people. I didn’t write it for myself. The whole reason I signed to Columbia Records and I had all these deals was because of Gone. I was very happy tipping away in my weird little world. And then I wrote that song, and a lot of bigger artists came in to try to take it,” he says.

“I won’t name names. There were recordings of it done. It got very close to being a single for someone else. I would go in these meetings with all these labels, and I would play it for them – just to play. Not with any sense of ‘This is my song.’ And they were, like, ‘You’re out of your mind if you don’t take this song. This is the song that will make you the thing that is the thing.’ And I was, like, ‘You’re wrong.’ For a year I basically was, like, ‘I disagree.’ And if you go in a room with enough people enough times and they tell you that you’re crazy ... I loved the song, but I did not love it for me. I never felt I fit. There was a little part of me that wanted to believe.”

As he had predicted, Gone wasn’t a hit. He received a lot of other strange advice, including that he cash in on the mercifully short-lived craze for NFTs by putting out an LP as a watermarked internet file. All of that was swirling in his brain when Tomlinson got in touch. To be able to step outside his own career was exactly what McMorrow needed.

“With Louis it was like boot camp. I had a very limited time with him. I had to wake up every morning, go for a run, write a song in my head, go to the studio. We made songs all day long. It lit a fire in my head again. I loved the process. I like sitting and talking to someone like Louis, who’s had this unbelievably fascinating lifestyle – so much tragedy in his life,” he says. Tomlinson’s mother and sister died within three years of each other, and his 1D bandmate Liam Payne died in October. “So many things have happened to him. I chatted to him and then write constantly. That was a lovely process.”

Because life is strange and full of contrasts McMorrow ended up working with Tomlinson around the same time that he was producing the Dublin postpunk “folk-metal” band The Scratch, on their LP Mind Yourself. “Totally different animals,” he says. “The Scratch album was an intense period in the studio of that real old-school nature of making music. A lot of fights. A lot of pushing back against ideas. A lot of different opinions. And you have to respect everybody’s opinions and find the route through.”

During his brief time on a major label, McMorrow was reminded of the music industry’s weakness for short-term thinking. In 2019, the business was obsessed with streaming numbers and hot-wiring the Spotify algorithm so that your music posted the highest possible number of plays.

“Everyone was driven by stats. ‘This song has 200 million streams.’ ‘That song has 400 million streams.’ I went into my meetings with Columbia Records ... the day I had my first big marketing meeting was the day my catalogue passed a billion streams, which, for someone like me, who started where I started, was a day where I should be popping champagne corks. Instead they immediately started talking about how they have artists that have one song that has two billion streams. So by their rule of thumb I was half as successful as one song by one artist on their label.”

Five years later he believes things have changed. He points to Lankum, a group who will never set Spotify alight yet who have carved a career by doing their own thing and not chasing the short-term goal of a place on the playlist. They are an example to other musicians, McMorrow says.

“I was in Brooklyn, doing two nights, a week and a half ago. In the venue across the road from where we were, pretty much, Lankum were doing two nights and had [the Dublin folk artist] John Francis Flynn opening for them. Those are two artists that, if you were to look at their stats, you wouldn’t be, like, ‘These are world-beating musicians.’ You start aggregating to this stat-based norm and you miss bands like Lankum, bands like The Mary Wallopers, people like John Francis Flynn.”

McMorrow is looking forward to his forthcoming Irish tour, which he sees as another leg of his journey to be his best possible self.

“The last two, three years have been a process of building it back to a version of me that actually made me happy rather than making me cry at night-time – a version that was making music because I liked it. Within this industry there’s so much outside noise. It’s quite overwhelming. I was overwhelmed. It’s been nice to reset the clock.”

[peachjagiya]

It doesn't matter how detailed your spreadsheet is. We will never know all the times any of them spend together -- and we shouldn't. So picking the ones we know, or think we know, and saying that's 1) comprehensive or 2) that we know the significance is dumb.

People are allowed to have friends. I will never understand this argument that in order for one ship to be true, the other dynamics must be negative. There are several reasons why these are the two top ships, but one is that there is a genuine closeness. Jk and JM stayed up and played video games. Ok. So? If either was dating a woman, would this late night game sesh make you question it? It's weird. It also ignores a prominent third dynamic (which I think should get more shine): vmin - who are clearly close and love each other and have done for over a decade. JM is one of both of their best friends. Spending time with him isn't a gotcha. There is no villain here (unless it's BH/BPD, then cool, I'm fine with that).

But ok, if birthdays are your thing...none of them have said it's actually their thing. In fact, hasn't it been said that JM is the only one who is really into birthdays? JM and Hobi are regularly the only ones doing postings for everyone. The rest are pretty inconsistent. Tae who has said him and his siblings don't even recognize each other's birthdays. The same way people hype that video of JK wishing JM happy birthday -- would make sense if your close friend really prioritizes birthdays. This sounds more like a difference of personal preference.

And of course there is just the blinding inconsistency. They are closeted and need to hide their love; no they are filming their honeymoon! They are hanging out (from what we, the anonymous strangers of the internet know) and that is the measure of romance; nope, psych, they are tooo busy and it's actually kinda suspicious if you hang out publicly like that, clearly bro behavior. You can't only point at a specific period of time (that time being the present) to prove a relationship; see, it all comes down to a few nights in 2018.

You've got 8 weeks of content coming up (and merch!). Half your ship as an album coming out. Just put the spreadsheet away and relax.

Not much more I can add to this! 👏👏👏

Especially the bit about Vmin.

I don't want to seem superior but I feel like if we had 8 weeks of Taekook coming, we'd be having so much fun with it. Remember when Friends came out, and Inkigayo and type 1 and all these things this year... Maybe it's because I'm not hugely on twitter but we seemed to have so much fun with theorising and joking about and whatnot. But even if that's just my inaccurate reading of events, I know personally that my first thought upon getting a TKK moment isn't to go find the nearest JKKr and throw it at them. I tend to want to seek out other TKKrs to be silly and happy about it with. That's why I started a tumblr! I wanted to share my excitement.

So I don't know why 8 weeks of the travel show they've been talking about since Suchwita has brought out such bitterness when they call it a win (But then to be honest I never saw a jikooker talk about it with excitement, only in the context of how it was a victory over tkkrs or hypersexualised)

I wish they would just have fun with it and enjoy it. At this point, I genuinely feel like there are TKKrs more excited to see JK&JM interacting than the JKKrs are?!

Thanks anon! 💜