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arieslost · 2 months

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sky full of stars | ln4

summary: dj!lando always plays your song when you’re at the club.

word count: 3,615

warnings: drinking

masterlist — join my tag list here!

2021

You did not want to be in this club. You would need another pair of hands and feet to count off all the places you’d rather be, the very first one being asleep in your bed.

But here you were, not only in the club, but within a throng of people at varying levels of fucked up, jumping around and dancing to the song pounding through the speakers. Your comforts were twofold: the first was knowing that you could handle the two shots in your system, and the second was that your best friend was the designated driver tonight, so there was no way in hell she was going to leave without you.

Frankly, you’d been ready to leave an hour ago. In fact, you’d started saying the words, “I want to go home” when you caught a glimpse of the DJ in charge of tonight’s music. Granted, it was hard to really look at him considering the fact that the lights were low and you were on the other end of the club, but you’d seen just enough to know that he was attractive and any thought of leaving had gone right out the window. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t said anything when he started his set, so you didn’t even know what his voice sounded like.

You needed a closer look.

So here you were, surprisingly enjoying yourself on the dance floor while you tried to check him out without being overly conspicuous. You were only able to make out a head of curly hair and the large hand that lifted a shot glass to his lips when your phone started ringing, the buzz in your pocket the only indication thanks to the blaring music. You squinted at the screen, thinking it might be your friend trying to find you, but the caller ID read “Potential Spam,” so your phone went right back into your pocket. You were on a mission.

When you looked up, you made direct eye contact with the man of the hour– the DJ you found nothing short of infatuating. You were rather close to his setup, maybe ten people away, but you could feel his gaze on you as he picked up a microphone.

“This next song is dedicated to the gorgeous woman I’m looking at right now,” he announced to the whole room, sending a wink in your direction before getting to work on fading the current song into the new one– “A Sky Full of Stars” by Coldplay.

You felt goosebumps rising on your arms as the first few notes filled the room, suddenly glad that you were here and not at home, asleep. The lights moved in tandem to the beat of the song, and you finally got a proper look at his face. It’s then that you knew you were screwed, because if he wasn’t the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life, you’d be lying.

You barely had any time to pull yourself together before he was motioning for one of his friends to take over for him and stepping down from the booth into the crowd, making a beeline right for where you stood in the middle of it all.

“You’re awfully bold,” you said when he was close enough to hear you, a bit taken aback by how quickly he’d closed the distance between the two of you. “What makes you think I like this song?”

He didn’t answer at first, instead choosing to slowly run his hand down your arm until his fingers tangled with yours. “You have goosebumps, and I’d be shocked if you didn’t like it. When I played it last time, you came up to me and tried to take the mic so you could sing it to everyone.”

That’s another reason why you never made a habit out of going to the club. Somehow, it always got to the point where you lost your mind a little bit and somehow managed to find new ways to make an idiot out of yourself. But tonight was different– you were managing your alcohol intake, and the hot DJ was calling you out on something you’d been too drunk to remember the next morning.

Your friends hadn’t though; in fact, they’d been gracious enough to provide video proof of them dragging you away from the DJ booth. You’d never felt such shame as you did watching that back.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, his free hand tilting your chin up so he could look right at you as he spoke. “It’s how I noticed you in the first place. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you since.”

At least one good thing came out of my foolishness, you thought to yourself as he took your other hand and put both of your arms around his neck. It made sense, anyway– you definitely would’ve remembered seeing him before had you been sober.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” you warned him as he began to sway to the music, taking you along with him as his hands went down to your hips.

“Neither am I,” he confided, lips close to your ear.

The chorus began, the song’s beat drop making the lights change from red to blue, and you decided that you would let this happen, even if it turned into another embarrassing memory. At least you would remember this time, and you’d never forget swaying back and forth with the handsome DJ as the rest of the crowd danced around you both.

2022

You were in the club again, and you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Spending so much time with your favorite DJ, Lando Norris, will do that to you. After that first dance, he bought you a couple drinks and didn’t go back to the DJ booth for the rest of the night due to you dragging him right back out into the crowd and dancing with him until your feet hurt too much to stand. Eventually, your best friend had found you and told you it was time to go, and in your tipsy state you’d kept your arms firmly around Lando, said something about “holding him hostage,” and vehemently refused to go anywhere. It wasn’t until he gave you his number that you allowed your best friend to take you home.

He texted you right away when he woke up that morning, and the day after the two of you went on your first date. He surprised you by taking you to a rather high-end restaurant; you’d pegged him for a more low-key guy when it came to dates, despite the fact that he’d dedicated a song to you in front of a club full of people, and you were proved correct when you were on the phone with him later that night.

“I don’t even like going out that much,” he confessed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. “I just thought you deserved something special for a first date so I didn’t look like a loser.”

“You could have just told me that,” you giggled. “The dress code for our next date can be sweats.”

You still remembered the way his eyes lit up when you said “our next date.” That next date, a movie marathon at your apartment, had turned into countless dates, and you never went back to that restaurant.

Now, you were in the club where the two of you first met to celebrate your one year anniversary. Lando was wearing a white button up, and had just unbuttoned the top two buttons to reveal more of his tan skin and the gold chain around his neck. You’d given him a look, and he’d complained that “it’s just so hot in here,” but the both of you knew he was just doing it to rile you up.

It was working.

Your hands gravitated to the newly exposed skin, palms running up along his shoulders and fingers dipping beneath his collar to gently scratch at his back. You could spend all night running your hands over his skin, and he’d be happy to let you do it. He leaned closer to you, nearly stepping on your toes as his arms looped around your waist.

“You really weren’t lying last year when you said you were a bad dancer.” You laughed at the affronted look on his face.

“I think I’ve gotten better, thank you very much.” He said, and promptly stepped directly on your foot. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry!”

You only laughed harder, pulling him into a kiss. You could feel the vibrations of his own laughter against your lips.

“Wait right here,” he instructed, breaking the kiss. “I’ve got something for you.”

He kissed your cheek and disappeared into the crowd.

The song playing began fading out, which caught your attention because it was in the middle of the chorus. You didn’t need Lando’s DJ knowledge to know that it was a strange decision to fade a song out long before it was over.

“Attention, everyone. We had a special request tonight from a familiar face,” the DJ announced before passing the microphone to none other than your boyfriend.

“This next song goes out to my beautiful girlfriend,” Lando said, pointing directly at you and causing your face to get hot when half the room looked in the direction of his finger. “Happy one year, baby. I love you.”

Your jaw dropped as the familiar opening notes of “A Sky Full of Stars” started playing. Not just because of the song, but because of those three special words. I love you. You’d only said it to each other a handful of times, and Lando had just said it to you in front of hundreds of people.

You met him in the middle of the floor, too impatient to wait until he got back to you.

“I love you, I love you so much!” You yelled over the music, kissing him again.

“One year is just the beginning, yeah?” He asked, and you nodded enthusiastically, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide.

2023

You were wrapped up in Lando’s arms as you stood before his setup. In the past year, he had been promoted to be the main talent for the club and had three sets every weekend. He had insisted that the only gift he wanted from you for your two year anniversary was that you help him DJ his next set, and you’d obviously agreed. You got him a necklace anyway, but kept your promise so long as he promised to help you gain at least some skills beforehand so the audience wouldn’t kick you out for being shit. After a week or so, you felt confident enough with the buffer of the knowledge you’d picked up over the past two years to be where you were now– fading one song into another almost seamlessly.

Lando would take his hands off of you for only seconds at a time to adjust something here or there and make the music flow as smoothly as possible. Otherwise, he was all over you for the whole club to see, and you were kind of obsessed with it. He was hardly paying attention to anything else; only moving on autopilot to fiddle with the knobs or whatever it was he was doing to make you look like an adequate DJ.

“Did I do okay?” You asked towards the end of the set, looking over your shoulder at your boyfriend who hadn’t stopped smiling at you since you left the apartment and arrived at the club early to set up.

“Are you kidding? I think I might be out of a job after tonight,” he said, threading his fingers into your hair to pull you into a long kiss. “At least I would be, if I didn’t have this party trick under my sleeve.”

Slightly dazed from the passion of his kiss, you let him lean around you and queue up a song that wasn’t originally in the mix for that evening’s set.

At this point, you should have expected it, and maybe you did a little bit, but that didn’t stop the tears from pricking your eyes and the goosebumps rising on your arms when “A Sky Full of Stars” began, sending the crowd into a chorus of cheers.

“It works every time,” he said cheekily, reaching up to wipe away the tears that had escaped.

“You are unbelievable.” It was meant to be said in jest, but you were just so filled with love and adoration for him that it sounded like a compliment.

“Dance to our song with me,” he said, spinning you and tugging you forward so you bumped right into his chest.

“Here?” You looked behind you, at the set up, at the hundreds of people, and he took your chin in his hand and turned your face back to him.

“Here. Now. I want them all to see how much I love you.” He said it so sweetly that, in that moment, you were willing to give him just about whatever he wanted.

He started singing the song to you, “‘Cause in a sky, ‘cause in a sky full of stars, I think I saw you,” and it felt like you were the only two people in the room when the beat dropped and you kissed him with everything you had, letting him sway you back and forth and spin you around one too many times just to see his smile and hear his giddy laugh.

2024

You’re surprised when Lando tells you that he’s made different plans for your three year anniversary. The club has become a second home of some sorts; you’re there more often than not to watch his sets, and you’ve always gone there for your anniversaries. Not just the years, but the six month, year and a half, and two and a half year anniversaries as well. Thus, the sudden deviation from tradition raises a few alarm bells in your head. If anything, you’d expect a change for your four years next year since 4 is your boyfriend’s lucky number.

You don’t have time to dwell on it that much. You have to be out the door in ten minutes, and you still have to finish applying your lipstick, not to mention strap yourself into the sparkling silver heels Lando had gotten you for Christmas.

“Almost ready, baby?” He asks, peeking into the bathroom and watching as you add one last swipe of lipstick.

“Yup! Just need my—” you’re cut off when he holds up the heels. “—shoes. Thanks, Lan.”

“Here, sit. I’ll put them on for you.” He gestures to the edge of the tub.

You take him up on his offer happily, and your heart jumps up into your throat when he stares right into your eyes and slowly gets down on one knee before you.

You’d overheard him talking about possibly proposing to you with your parents over the holiday break, and you hadn’t been stealthy about it at all, so he knows that you heard. Since then, he’s made a game out of getting on one knee in front of you every now and then. He already did it once this morning when he woke you up only to tell you that he made you breakfast. You know he’s joking, but now that you’re celebrating a significant milestone in your relationship you can’t help but have a slight inkling that his joking around is less of a joke and more of a hint.

So when he holds your gaze long enough to make you start thinking that it might actually happen before going about putting your shoes on, you’re not at all fazed and ruffle his hair.

“Hey! Easy, I spent a lot of time making my hair look good for you.” He yelps, jumping up to look in the mirror and patting it down meticulously.

“I like it when it’s messy,” you reply, giving him a look that you know drives him crazy.

“You can’t say that and look at me that way when we’re trying to leave the house, babe.” He whines.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You make sure the straps on your heels are tight enough before you stand up, pleased that your retaliation to his down-on-one-knee joke worked better than you thought it would. “Come on, I don’t want to be late!”

He wastes no time in getting his payback for your antics when you arrive at the restaurant he took you to for your very first date. He opens the car door for you, and takes your hand to help you step out. The moment you’re on the sidewalk and the door is closed behind you, he gets down on one knee again, making a point to look at you the entire time. Your heart jumps again. Certainly he wouldn’t do it on the sidewalk? Or maybe he would, to add to the element of surprise?

He doesn’t. He simply ties his shoelace, the picture of innocence all the while.

“Shall we?” He says as he straightens up, offering his arm with a smile.

You retain your own picture of innocence, wrapping your hand around his bicep. “We shall.”

Seeing that he had booked the private dining room has more alarm bells going off in your head, not to mention the fact that you thought you’d never see the inside of this restaurant again. Regardless, you were actually kind of happy to be somewhere quieter to celebrate your anniversary, as much as you’ve fallen in love with being at the club.

Lando clears his throat loudly towards the end of your meal as the waiter pours two glasses of champagne. “Three years,” he begins, sounding somewhat awestruck.

You nod in agreement. “Three years. Sick of me yet?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” He passes you a glass, and you clink them together before you each take a sip. “Actually, I’d really love to just spend my entire life with you.”

Now he’s not even trying to hide it, so you laugh a little bit. “That’s sweet, Lan.”

“I’m serious,” he pouts, and you try to contain yourself, painting a serious expression on your face and nodding as you press your lips together. “Fine, I admit it. I went a little too far with the joke.”

“Which time? Are we talking about just today or the past few weeks?” You ask pointedly, taking another sip of your champagne.

“Okay, a lot too far.” He huffs, getting out of his chair and pushing it in before walking to your side of the table. “I want to make up for it right now though, if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh my God. You’re actually serious?” You ask, feeling your insides beginning to shake a little with giddiness as he gets down on one knee before you for the fourth time today.

“I have never been more serious about anything in my life.” He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a small box.

It looks a bit different than ring boxes normally look, and the moment he opens it you understand why. The notes of “A Sky Full of Stars” emit from within the box where the ring sits, the dazzling diamond sparkling when it catches the light.

“Fuck’s sake, Lando, I wouldn’t have spent so much time on my makeup if I knew you were gonna do this,” you sniffle, putting a hand over your mouth.

“I’ll keep it short because I don’t want to cry too much and ruin it,” he promises, taking your free hand in his own, the other holding the box out to you. “I’ve never been happier to be borderline assaulted by a drunk girl in the middle of a set, because if that never happened I don’t know if we would’ve met.”

You start laughing hysterically, tears most definitely ruining your makeup, and he laughs through his own tears.

“I just love you so much, every little thing about you. It would take me eternity to tell you how much I love you, and that wouldn’t even be enough time with you. So, that’s why I want to ask you to be with me beyond eternity and do me the honor of being my wife.” He says your name like he’s saying it for the first time, taking his time to savor the way it rolls off his tongue. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Hand shaking, he slips the ring onto your finger. The moment it’s in place, he puts his other knee down and pulls you into the tightest hug as the song continues playing from the box.

“I love you,” you whisper in his ear, feeling his shoulders shake slightly as he cries. “But did you have to give me a heart attack so many times today?”

He laughs, pulling away and grabbing a napkin to gently wipe your eyes. “Four’s my lucky number, I had to do it three other times today to make sure I got it right.”

The song comes to an end, and you pick up the box, observing the intricate design and the engraving on the outside– You get lighter the more it gets dark. I’m going to give you my heart. Forever.

“You know this has to be the song we dance to for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Norris, right?” You say to him, leaning in and kissing the tears off of his cheeks.

“Way ahead of you, baby. I already started making our playlist; it’s the first song on there.”

note: the fact that i’m posting this after lando confirmed he “retired” from dj-ing… call this my long-winded eulogy. special thanks to coldplay for making a song that inspired a whole story!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @thef1diary @clara760-blog @baby-moxley @positiveaspirations @xfuckoffx @hannahbrown2002 @cataalinababeyy @inejghafawifesblog @formulasportworld @meandjoemama @maddie-bell @mrsmaybank13 @hadids-world @havaneselover08 @aacherrylips @itsmoonia @universallyhoundbonkfestival @rery30 @paigeworlds @wassgood @itscrzy @ctrlyomomma @inlovewithdeadboys @multifandomfan1 @bwormie @megsmclaren @barackostea @enchantemirrorball @tiredallthetimex @cosmoscoffeee @mlilyb16 @ophcelia @idktbhhsworld @l-inas @kath8278 @formulaangel55 @y-nusername @sla123455ffh @dinodumbass @diaa-20 @alexmarie29 @lisoba13 @ftdtlovecore @clowngirlsstuff @jurelij @romanxffs @sadisticfries @loyalpuffofthehuffle @cherrue @itsprashimusic @danielmarie @dampcelery0294 @shasasthings @bringbacktim @lou-larcher5 @yunakynn @hanbinnneee

#full fic #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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bchan95 · 2 months

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Sincerely, Me (Bang Chan x Reader)

Chan dedicates a song to you publicly to announce your relationship.

You shuffled into the aisle right behind the V.I.P. section. As you sat down, you looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. The blaring overhead light slightly tinted in your big sunglasses, and your arms crossed your chest, holding yourself into place as yelling fans filtered in on both sides of you.

Seeing Chan live was always a hassle. He wanted you to be protected, to have bodyguards around you in the crowd to keep you safe, but since your relationship was still a bit more on the low, you didn't want to appear too out of place in a sea of his biggest admirers. The two of you settled for a guard strategically placed with you in sight and his stylist on speed dial.

"Baby, call me when you get to the car after the show okay?" Your boyfriend said hastily as he downed another glass of water while waiting for his turn in the makeup chair.

"Chan, I always call you. I'll remember," You said with a giggle, letting your hand fall into his as he rubbed small circles onto the top of it.

"I know baby, but... just make sure you do okay?" His smile beamed up at you, a flight of pearly white.

You nodded, leaning in and kissing his forehead and then his lips before letting go of his hand and walking out of the dressing room. You were quickly whisked into a side door and dropped right past security. You slyly flashed them your badge in your pocket before walking down the stairs to the floor seat your boyfriend purchased.

Even though you'd seen this show twice already this run, your nerves were through the roof. Suddenly you were taken back to the moments in your teens, waiting for your favorite celebrity to jump on stage. You felt your heartbeat quicken as the music boomed through the speakers, mixtures of squeals and singing ringing through the rows as the fans hyped themselves up for the upcoming performance.

You admired the rows of bracelets that lined their wrists, the way they linked arms and sang at the top of their lungs together, crying tears of joy as they waited for the boys you know so fondly moved around the stage in a hurricane of speed and sound.

You felt oddly comfortable in this moment. Able to blend in so seamlessly with everyone else. You knew better than to think it would always be this easy. You knew that if you and Chan lasted as long as you hoped you would that eventually he'd have to tell everyone.

Part of you yearned for public acknowledgment. The thought of being able to hang on his arm in clubs, at awards shows, and even on vacations without the fear of being seen was tempting.

Another part of you worried about what would come with confirmation. Your boyfriend gave up his whole life for this career, and you didn't want to be the one to tear it apart. You wanted him to be successful, to continue to be able to produce songs he loved with the people he cared about the most.

You must have been lost in thought for a while, as the only thing to bring your eyes back to center stage was the sudden dimming of the lights and the loud screams tearing through your eardrums. Your breath caught in your chest as you rose out of your seat and joined them in their screams.

The booming sounds of the song rang through the speakers and you heard the familiar howl of your boyfriend. You giggled, clapping with everyone as they cheered them on. Chan found his place in the center of the stage to greet the crowd.

"What's going on Sydneyyy?" He smiled as they met him with a big smile. He nodded at them, throwing up a thumbs up to show how impressed he was.

Your eyes met for a second and you swore he winked at you. You shook your head, thinking that he wouldn't be that careless tonight. Still, your heart warmed at the thought of his risk and you yelled out their names in time with the rest of the crowd.

The set moved quickly, and as they ran through their solo sets you could feel your feet wearing on you. You sat down as the stage flipped over to black for a moment. You cursed the moment you decided to quickly throw on your Converse instead of your Docs, feeling your toes throb through the thin material of the shoe. You rolled your ankle back and forth, pressing your thumb to the side to release some pressure. Your efforts were put on pause as you heard a voice from above.

"Ma'am, follow me."

You looked up to see the smile of a bodyguard that you know well. You looked up at him in confusion, a furrow in your brow. He didn't say anything more but just stretched out his hand to you. You took his hand hesitantly and let him guide you out of the aisle. You watched as fans eyed you down as you moved closer and closer to the stage. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat as you followed his lead to the front row in a center seat next to his parents.

Chan's mom smiled at you as you moved closer to her. You nodded and smiled back at her. Why were you moved to the front so suddenly? Surely fans took videos of this girl being taken directly by Stray Kids security to the front of VIP. Chan's dad's giggle shook you back to the present, him chuckling over your shell-shocked reaction.

You opened your mouth to speak, but you were quickly drowned out by screams as someone reentered the stage. You heard a familiar accent yell out to the crowd again.

"Ahhh so it's time for my solo stage..."

You looked up and watched your boyfriend take the center once again. He looked over at you with a wide smile, clear as day in the summer sun. You felt shivers take over your whole body as he maintained eye contact as he spoke.

"I have a special song that I wrote..."

The crowd screamed again and you could feel his parents' eyes on you. You could have sworn you felt the flash of his mom's camera on your cheek but you were too focused on his dark brown eyes to fully notice anything else anymore.

"I wrote it with someone special in mind," his eyes comb through the crowd before landing on yours again. He winked in your direction.

"This one's for my baby."

You could have sworn you felt your heart leap out of your chest as gasps and screams took over the crowd before the base kicked in. Your boyfriend places on his big sunglasses, a big smirk stretched across his lips. You felt frozen as you watched a performance you've seen several times before with a new perspective.

A song you thought your flirt of a boyfriend wrote just to make his fans go crazy, was about you? You caught him giggling on Bubble, and bringing the fantasy to life with fans every night... why wouldn't he tell you?

Despite your racing thoughts, you managed to bring a small smile to your face, clapping along to the familiar beat. Chan continued to put on his same charming choreography as he sang so sweetly. He pointed out in the crowd to several random fans before returning over to your side of the stage, beaming ear to ear.

"Baby I'll show that you’re the one," he sang, almost giggling through the lyrics. "Like a diamond ring such a pretty little thing you’re blinding everyone."

You felt yourself blushing as he winked at you before quickly moving back across the stage. Your nerves were swapped for a swelling amount of warmth in your chest as you sang along. You finally looked over at Chan's mom, her phone in hand as she filmed you. Your cheeks burn red as you shake your head and return your gaze to the stage.

Watching your rockstar of a boyfriend was always a treat, but something more bubbled to the surface when you knew he was singing directly to you. You have a lot of things you want to say, but you aren't really sure where to start. Ignoring the flight of what-ifs, you just allow yourself to enjoy the rest of the set.

As Chan ended his song, you quickly heard the sounds of disgust coming from the members reentering the stage. Filled with "oohs" and "ewws," they relentlessly teased Chan, shoving him back and forth like a ping pong ball.

Finally, they let him go, moving on to the next song with ease. You let yourself settle back onto your feet and simply just enjoyed the rest of the show. You sang with his mom, danced around with Hannah, and giggled at his dad's failed attempt at singing as you celebrated the boys.

As the final song ended the boys came back to the center of the stage to do their ments. You held back tears for everyone until it came to Chan. He came to the side of the stage and stood right in front of his family.

"...And I want to thank the ones I love the most for coming to the show tonight. Mom, Dad, Hannah... and my baby you know I love you. Thank you for making tonight even more special to me in one of my favorite places in the world," Your eyes widened as he continued. "I truly couldn't do it without you all."

He bit down on his lip as you stared at him. He had just done it. So casually in front of thousands of fans. He did what you never thought might not happen until you had announced an engagement. If even then. This acknowledgment brought tears to your eyes, as you smiled into the pink sky.

The set went dark and you hurried to grab your belongings and follow his family out of the venue doors and into the hallway below the stage. You finally let yourself fully take in the moment when away from all of the people and the cameras. Hannah's arm wrapped around you as you quietly wiped tears from your eyes. You look over at her to find her smiling.

"You guys are so sappy..." She joked, leaning into you as you two walked.

The family followed security to their car and you made your way to the tiny black car Chan called for you. As you felt the air conditioning hit your face, you brought the phone up to meet your gaze. You typed in the number you knew as well as your own and pressed it to your ear. It rang twice before you heard a familiar laugh.

"Baby, so what did you think?"

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fluff #bangchan x y/n #stray kids x y/n #bang chan x oc #bang chan

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abouttofillhisshoes · 17 days

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If you're all I need - M.H x Reader // pt.5

A/N: this is genuinely my first time writing anything let alone smut (if you can even call it that, it's just Matty being pathetic for about 4 thousand words) TW: for hard drugs, please take care of yourselves! Its angsty and sad, i had a hard time writing some of it. Ily @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading this monstrosity. I'm dedicating this fic to @sugar-coat-it for being an absolute legend and the sweetest person ever. Enjoy yourselves my loves ❤️

wc: 4.5k

part six

The Sound was like your second home. The flashing lights and too loud music enveloping you in a sort of warm, comforting hug. You were friendly with the staff, never rowdy or disturbing the peace. They knew about you and Mattys' habit, but then again, the whole club was on some substance or other.

Tobias, the bartender, had told you multiple times to “Please, be careful,” and to “Always check over it, make sure it's not laced,” you took his words to heart, and Matty always assured you his dealer was straight.

You trusted him with your life, so you took his words at face value.

Generic club music filled your ears, your drink was already sloshing in your hand, spilling onto the person in front of you. You apologize profusely, and are met with a scoff and an insult. Typical. Not caring, you turn around to dance with Matty. George was somewhere in the crowd, shouting song requests at the DJ like an absolute knobhead. Too many drinks turned him into a club music connoisseur, always knowing better. It was a miracle he hadn't been kicked out yet.

Matty stopped dancing, tapping your shoulder three times in a pattern. Bathroom. Nodding your head, you laugh giddily in anticipation, making your way towards the edge of the crowd. The neon sign glowed, illuminating your face as you walked past it, Matty following close behind.

Jess, one of the waitresses, saw you heading toward the bathroom.

She was your mate from school, being only two years older than you. You saw her mouth something along the lines of ‘be safe’. She nodded at you before going back to taking drink orders from the VIP tables.

The bathroom was always colder than the dance floor, more comfortable. As you turn the corner to go inside, you spot a familiar face. Ruby. The girl from that night. She looks different, exhausted.

You embrace, her hands shaking against your back. Offering her a line in return, she eagerly agrees. Matty takes out the baggie from the breast pocket of his suit jacket (yes, he had worn a suit jacket to the club), cutting three lines. Patrons walking in and out of the bathroom stopped to stare, eventually walking off muttering “fucking junkies,” under their breaths. You could care less, snorting your line first.

Time slowed as you lifted your head up in the direction of the entrance, to see a tall figure standing there. George. Fuck.

Matty was already doing his line when you tapped him on the back, gesturing to the door. You’d been caught. His eyes were wide, switching between you, Matty, and Ruby, who was still hunched over the sink.

“What the fuck are you lot doing,” He starts, storming toward the three of you. Ruby whispered into your ear, telling you she had to leave. You nod, as calm as possible, giving her a kiss farewell. She smiled her toothy smile, eye bags under her eyes prominent.

George had grabbed Mattys face, inspecting the faint traces of white powder under his nose, muttering some along the lines of “Jesus Christ mate, what are you doing?”

His eyes made their way to you, the expression on his face a look of pure disappointment.

“Oh fuck off! It's just a bit of blow, what's the big deal? Loads of people do it,” Matty laughs, avoiding George's gaze. You nod your head in agreement. At the end of the day, what was so wrong about wanting to feel good for a few hours? It's not like you were addicted.

“You cant say shit like that Matty, it fucking scares me,” his voice quivers, shaken up. “Youre fucking enabling each other, how can you not see that?” You roll your eyes, and Matty grabs your wrist, tugging you behind him. George tries to shout after you.

“Bugger off, George, you're not my mother,” you spit that last word at him, turning around to make eye contact before losing yourself in the crowd. Mattys hand grips yours with such an intensity you’d think he'd want to rip it off of you. You're both heading for the exit, the warm air of the summer night hitting your skin.

Matty looks at you, his pupils massive. He's sweating, the powder still sticking to his nose. You reach out, brushing it off. It clings to your fingers. You tap his lips, signaling for him to open his mouth, He obliges, parting his pink, rose lined lips. Your finger feels hot in his mouth as you rub it onto his gums. A whimper escapes him, and he looks down at you, eyes filled with one thing and one thing only. Lust.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. Your eyes narrow, and you bring your other hand up to stroke his face.

“What do you want, Matthew?” your voice is steady. You felt in control.

Another pathetic whine, his legs buckle beneath him as you trailed your hand down his jaw, stopping at his throat. Your fingers wrapped around it, and you could feel his erratic pulse thrumming in his neck. This felt wrong. Very, very wrong. But you don't stop, you never stop.

Your lips finally connect. The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue. His breathing quickens, and you tug off his jacket, revealing his bare chest. The faint light of the alley didn't do him justice, but he looked beautiful. Your breath hitches when he loses a hand in your hair, his fingers weaving through it.

You can hear faint sirens in the background, as well the sound of cars speeding down the highway.

“George is a tosser, he doesn't know anything,” Matty murmurs against your mouth, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. His left hand rests on your waist, drawing endless circles onto your lower back.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I hope Ruby’s okay though, she looked proper rough.” Matty shakes his head, pushing your face into his chest. The two of you stand there like that, breathing in each other's essence. A strange sense of unease clouds your mind, interrupted by Mattys lips crashing against yours.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

“Can I pierce you?”

“No fucking chance you’re going near my body with a needle,” Matty laughs, taking a swig from the bottle of champagne in his hand. You wanted to practice, and Rome wouldn't let you do any more on him. You sigh, laying back on your elbows, staring at the ceiling.

“D’you even have the proper supplies or anything? Let me guess, Rome has converted you.” You nod, confirming his suspicion of Rome’s involvement. You plead with him further, and he inevitably gives in.

“If you fuck it up, i will never forgive you.” you laugh at him, slightly tipsy but still in control of yourself. “You have to chill, mate, it's just me shoving a needle into your body.”

“What do you wanna do? I was thinking maybe a second ear piercing or-” you cut him off

“I wanna pierce your nipples, that's the one i haven't done yet” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. Truthfully, your heart was racing at the thought of doing it. His was too.

“Are you sure? I don't want my nipples to disintegrate. It's quite a turn off, y’know? Not having any.” you roll your eyes at him, turning around to get the piercing kit Rome had given you as a late birthday present.

It contained various needles, disinfectant wipes and starter jewelry. Matty had already laid down onto the bed, unbuttoning his shirt.

Tearing the wipe open with your teeth, you turn around to face him. His breathing is unsteady, you can tell

“Calm down, it'll just be a pinch. I know what I'm doing,” he grins, brushing his hair out of his face. “We both know that's not true, but I trust you.” I trust you. The words reverberate through your skull, making you smile.

You wipe the needle first, then his chest. Using a pen, you mark where you want the jewelry to go. He had picked out a black, circular barbell. Fitting.

“Ok, just like, take a deep breath. You can't move” your voice is low, your hands trailing up his chest. It felt intimate, seeing him like this.

“Just do it, I'll be alright,” he shuffles slightly against the sheets of the bed, gripping them between his fingers. You know he thinks you won't notice, but he's nervous. You press a kiss next to his mouth, your eyes never leaving his.

Taking a breath to steady your hands, you push through the bud. You expect him to wince, maybe even cry. They were supposed to be quite painful.

Instead, he moans. Oh? You cock an eyebrow at him, noticing he’s beat red. The sight makes you giddy. He’s enjoying this.

A small tear rolls down his cheek as he twitches against the mattress. The look on his face is clear. Desperation.

His hands relax slightly, and you push the jewelry through.

“G-god dammit, fuck.” The noise is like music to your ears. He grew redder, if that was even possible. His eyes lock with yours. He's embarrassed. A grin spreads onto your face as you flick the jewelry, looking to elicit another reaction.

Your experiment proves correct, and he lets out a pathetic whimper, slapping his hand over his mouth to stifle it. Too late.

“Do you like it when I hurt you?” you ask, taking in the sight before you. Matty was sprawled across your bed, panting like a dog, skin flushed a light pinkish hue. His chest moved up and down rapidly, his hand covering half of his face.

His response is a slight nod, eyes searching yours for your reaction. You offer him a smile, your heart full of love. He trusted you that much. He trusted you enough to hurt him.

“We’ll do one today, save the other for later?” you suggest, your hand playing with his curls. He blinks back tears, nodding at you. His arms reach out for you, pulling you on top of him. Your chests press together, and he winces at the pressure on his piercing. Your lips move against each other, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. You moan at the intrusion, he props himself up on his elbows, looking for leverage. You don't give it to him, pushing him down.

He pulls away, eyes raking over your frame. Grinning, he bites his lip provocatively. Your fingers move to his eyes, smearing his eyeliner down his face. He laughs, the sound morphing into a moan as you grind down onto him. Only slightly, never giving him what he really wants.

He looks fucked out, raw. You still, getting off him with a wink. He looks at you puzzled, wondering if he did something wrong. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“I know what you want, and I'm not going to give it to you. Not until you earn it.” He sits up, eyes silently pleading with you. Pleasepleasepleaseplease. He begged, you could see it on his face.

“Let's go out, I'm bored,” he shuddered at your words, getting up from his position. Walking over to your wardrobe, he pulled out a shirt of yours to wear. He was going to play your game.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Let's do something fun! Lets go decorate plates or something,” you suggest, your words being met with an eye roll from Matty.

“You're taking the piss, I'd be torn apart if I was seen decorating plates” He laughs, pushing you off to the side. You were walking down an empty street, the sun shining slightly between the clouds. It was fairly warm.

You neared a hobby shop, dragging Matty in with you, filtering out his groans of protest “Oh for fucks sake, let me go!” he huffs, pulling his arm out of your grasp. You raise your eyebrows at him, a slight smile creeping into your face. He smiles back at you, reluctantly turning towards the large selection of rhinestones in front of him.

You picked out your favorite colors, giddily holding them as Matty selects a pack of white ones. On the way out, you grab a pack of lighters, one white, one a dark hue of grey. The cashier hands you your change, wishing you a nice rest of your day. With a wide grin on your face, you do the same.

Matty fidgets with the hem of his shirt as the both of you leave the shop. Walking aimlessly, you eventually settle on a park bench, spreading out your supplies. He groans, trying to pick the rhinestones off to glue them on, clearly struggling. You help him, your fingers ghosting over his as you take the plastic sheet out of his hands.

He had taken the black lighter out of the pack, and was now gluing stones onto it with laser-focus, not wanting to mess up. You took the grey one, paring it with pink rhinestones. Your initials brandished the side once you finished.

Matty had done the same, even if the letters were a bit crooked. M.H was glued hastily onto the side of his, some of the rhinestones barely hanging on. He smiled at you as you swapped lighters, now holding his.

It looked exactly like the one you had destroyed. A shiver crept up your spine, memories of that night flashing into your mind. The pure rage you had felt, watching the plastic splinter off onto the pavement. The images of Matty plaguing you.

But that was before. Before he had kissed you. You felt differently now, but still, a feeling of unease spread through your body as you flicked it on and off, watching the flame dissipate.

His hand was touching your, he was saying your name

You look up, your eyes meeting his. He smiles.

“Do you like it? I tried my best to make it not look like shit,” his voice was timid, a hint of insecurity could be heard. “I love it,” you assure him, putting the lighter into your pocket.

“Do you like yours? I know they are not the manliest of colors, but-”

“I love it because you made it, that's all that matters,” he cut you off, his thumb tracing the back of your hand.

You feel your heart flutter at his words, doing backflips in your chest.

He pulled out his red cigarette case, pulling out a baggie filled with weed. The two of you had promised to stay sober today, but you nodded as he asked you if you wanted to smoke. You get out your papes and filters, rolling it for him.

He had stopped making comments, instead watching you lick the spliff closed with such an intensity, you thought you would catch on fire. His eyes bore into you as you lit up, and you hand it to him to take the first drag. How the tables have turned

His lips wrap around the filter, breathing in deeply, letting the sensation take over his body. He hands it to you, his hands shaking slightly. Your lipstick rubs off on the spliff, painting the filter with a red rim.

You hold each other, sitting on the park bench, passing the joint back and forth for what felt like hours, until it dwindled out. The streetlamps had come on, one flickering on and off in the distance. The moon peaked out though the clouds, the blue light only making him look more beautiful.

You observed his face, his eyes drooping slightly as the high took over him. He let out deep breaths, his chest rising and falling slowly. Your fingers were intertwined, his hands felt warm against your skin. Every so often, he would twitch slightly against you.

The sun had almost set, barely even there as night took over the sky. The people in the park had gone home, only the occasional dog walker passing by you, quietly saying hello.

“What are we?” his voice pierced through your heart, making it bleed into your chest.

“I dont know.” you answer, pulling him closer. You stayed like that, your bodies melding together until you both fell asleep, his soft snores filling the empty park

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I just got off the phone with Ross, he wants to hang at their place.” you shout up the stairs. Matty was in the shower, the hot water steaming up the glass of the mirror.

“Sure, we haven't been over there in a while, innit? It’d be nice to have us all in one place again,” he answers, his voice amplified through the echo of the shower.

You were draped across his couch, watching the news. The TV spokesperson droned on, boring you half to death with stock market statistics. You switch it off, sighing as you got up. Opening the door to the bathroom, you see Matty standing in front of you. A grey towel hung low on his waist, barely hanging on. Your breath hitches at the sight.

“Yeah?” he asks, shaving cream covering his face and neck. Jesus Christ.

“I need to do my makeup, move.” you shove him out of the way, riffling through his bathroom drawer, looking for the makeup bag you had left there. Sure enough, you find it, the red material sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the towels and colognes filling the space.

You start doing your eyes, lining your waterline with a deep blue. Matty continues shaving next to you, nearly nicking his skin more than once. You make eye contact in the mirror multiple times, blushing as you look away. God, you're so pathetic.

He scoots past you and makes his way towards his room, presumably to go and change. The urge to follow him is strong, but you stay in your current position, looking at him as he walks away. You hear the bedroom door close, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Finishing up your routine, you go back downstairs and sit on the couch, waiting for Matty. He takes an oddly long time, and you can hear him shuffling around in his room. You wonder what he's doing, absentmindedly playing with the posh table decor his mother had set on the table.

Eventually, deciding he's taking too long, you walk over to the window located in his kitchen and crack it open. Lighting your cigarette, your eyes travel up and down the street. Children ride by on their bikes, their older siblings chasing after them. The occasional family walks by, waving hello at you before returning to their conversation. You ash into the sink.

A little girl makes eye contact with you. She reminds you of yourself, eyes full of innocence and naïveté, her rose colored dress blowing in the wind. You take a drag of your cigarette, watching as she walks by.

“You ready?” a voice says behind you, making you jump, almost banging your head against the wall you were leaning against. You turn around, seeing Matty in front of you. He has your jumper on, the red one. It's freshly washed and pressed, paired with a blue pair of loose fitting jeans. His hair is messy as always, the blonde highlights sticking out, framing his face.

“You need to start giving me my clothes back,” you say, gesturing to his top.

“Only if you cough up mine,” he says with a laugh, pointing at your pants. They were, in fact, his.

“Touché.” you shrug, walking past him, grabbing his wrist to pull him after you. Throwing your cigarette into the trash, the both of you put on your shoes.

It's sunny outside, and you can see Matty sweating in his your jumper, but you don't say anything. You stop by the corner shop on your way there, buying a pack of fags for Matty.

The cashier tucks her hair behind her ears as the both of you walk up to the counter to pay. He asks for parliaments, and she hands them to him

“That’ll be 6 quid,” leaving the sentence open “and your number?” she asks him, batting her eyelashes. The question makes you freeze, eyes on Matty. It seems to take him by surprise, he sucks in a deep breath before opening his mouth to speak:

“Nah, that's alright, this is my girl right here,” he takes your hand, lifting it up. His girl. You nod timidly, and the girl apologizes. “You're so cute together,” she comments, giving you the fakest smile you've ever seen. You shoot one back.

“Jesus, sorry mate, didn't want to let her down too hard. Soz for using you as a cover.” A cover? Was that what that was?

“No big thing, glad my gender could be of service,” you try to sound unbothered, grinning at him the best you can. Your heart deflated in your chest, a weight crushing down on it. You were his mate, not his girl. That was clear now.

The rest of the walk is spent with headphones in your ears. Micheal Jackson's “Bad” played, drowning out your thoughts.

The hallway leading to the flat is cold, the white marble almost too white, like it had been recently cleaned. Matty bangs on the door, yelling at Ross to open up. He does.

“Jesus Matty, there's this thing called a doorbell-” “Stop fucking me off and let us in,” Matty pushes past a very offended Ross, stalking into the livingroom. You trail behind him, seeing George come into your line of sight.

Your breath hitches. This is the first time you’ve seen him since that night. He looked uncomfortable, eyes darting around the room. It smells clean in the flat, and you assume Hann had had another one of his cleaning frenzies.

Adam’s sitting on the sofa, and so was george. They looked tense. Matty was in the kitchen making himself a cup of tea. You sit down next to Hann, watching Ross make himself comfortable on the giant sofa chair. The air is thick, full of something you can't recognise.

“Matty, can you maybe sit down?” Adam says, his voice deep and tired. He obliges, sitting down on the edge of the sofa chair next to Ross. Mattys hand holds the mug of tea, tapping his fingers against the ceramic. George is fidgety next to you, rolling and unrolling his sleeves, letting out uncomfortable coughs every few seconds. You narrow your eyes, cocking your eyebrow at him. He shakes his head.

“We know you’ve been using,” Hann’s voice cuts through the silence. Mattys head perks up.

“Blow? Seriously?”

“What about it?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. Fuck. Matty clears his throat before speaking.

“What she said– what does it matter? It's just blow, nothing special. Everyones on it, y’know.” His voice comes out rough, deep.

“Its fucking horrible, how can you do that to yourselves?” The question comes from George. He told them

“You fucking told them? Are you taking the absolute piss?” you sound harsh, he looks at you with wide eyes. Matty laughs maniacally, setting down his mug on the coffee table. The tea sloshes onto the glass, dirtying it.

“Ohh- I get what this is-” he looks at you, shaking his head. “This, my love,” he gestures to the three men sitting around you “Is their pathetic attempt at an intervention.” You scoff, looking at Ross, who confirms his statement.

“We’re worried about you two, just– “ Matty walks over to you, cutting him off. You get up, nodding at him in silent agreement. You needed to get the fuck out of here. Now.

“Youre all a bunch of fucking tossers, what do you care what we do? It doesn't affect you!”

George speaks up: “Of course it affects us, you're our best mates, for fucks sake.” His voice trails off, seeing you ignore him made his heart hurt. What did they know? They shouldn't fucking talk about things they had no clue about.

“Fuck you guys, honestly,” Matty spat, his eyes full of hatred “C’mon love, they probably don’t want two dirty junkies in their living room, hm?” You're already at the door, pushing it open. Hann yells after you, but you ignore him. Absolute asshole, staging an intervention like you were lost addicts. Fuck him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

You're back at Mattys place. You don't talk about what happened in the flat, you just hold each other. He had switched both of your phones off on the walk back. Adam was calling both of you like a crazy ex, begging you to come back and talk. You ignore him.

The curtains are drawn closed, painting the room in darkness. The only light is coming from the TV neither of you is paying attention to.

“D’you fancy a line?” he asks, grinning down at you. You agree, getting off of him. He cuts two lines, letting you snort yours as he watches. It hits you like a truck, the feeling of pure euphoria. How can something that was ‘bad for you’ be this good? It made no sense. You mentally curse at Adam for trying to act like your parent. He had no fucking right.

Matty started deeply into your eyes as you climbed back on top of him, straddling his lap. Once again, there's purple glitter around his eyes, shimmering in the light of the TV. He smirks at you provocatively, locking your lips with his. He kisses you with passion, moving his lips in sync with yours. He pulls away.

“You,” he starts, punctuating the word with a kiss to the edge of your mouth “are a work of art.”

You smile at his words, threading your hand into his hair, tugging hard. He whimpers into your mouth, twitching beneath you.

“You're hard.” you state, pressing a kiss to his jaw, biting down. He moans again, arching his back.

“I–,” he starts, interrupted by your hand reaching down and squeezing him through his pants. He pulses in your hand, begging. Another pathetic whine, his hips buck into your hand.

An idea pops into your head, and you slowly get off of him. He protests, his eyes watching you stand up next to him. He looks so beautiful like this, breathing heavily and painfully hard.

“I want you to touch yourself for me, Matthew." You can see him twitch as the words leave your lips.

"Go on, give me a show.”

#y'all weren't ready for this #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #tw:drugs #matty the 1975 #matty healy fluff #matty healy smut #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x you #matty x you

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bradshawsbaby · 1 year

Text

Letters to My Love // Part III

Blue Moon

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: I’m making a serious effort to be as historically accurate as possible in each of these letters, but I also realize that I may reference things that some people are unfamiliar with or confused about. I’d be happy to answer any questions about the time period if you have them!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

Song(s) referenced in this chapter: Chattanooga Choo Choo // Blue Moon

Dedication: As always, dedicated to my sweet friend, @luminousnotmatter, as well as everyone who has offered such lovely support for this series!

Warnings: Alternating POV, references to war and its impact, allusions to rationing, plenty of fluff.

July 6, 1942

Dear Peach,

Is it alright if I call you Peach? I suppose being in and around the Navy for as long as I have, I’ve become sort of used to the notion of nicknames. We’ve got one for everyone around here, and Peach just seems to suit you. I admit, it’s how I’ve come to think of you. But if you don’t like it—or if it seems too familiar for me to be calling you a silly nickname—you let me know right away and I’ll be sure not to do it again.

Gosh, I can’t tell you how happy it made me to receive your letter. Mail Call is always a good day—you should see the smiles around here when the fellas get letters from their sweethearts and families. But it felt a hundred times better the day I got your letter. Benny was about ready to tear it out of my hands and open it himself, and Tommy Boy wasn’t too far behind. Paul practically had to knock their heads together so that I could have a little peace. I kept it in my pocket and saved it to read until after dinner that night. Let me tell you, it was certainly sweeter than any dessert they could cook up in the mess (although, admittedly, their dessert could use some work, even on a good day).

I’m sorry that it took me so long to write back. You wouldn’t believe this, Peach, but they’ve really got us working hard over here. It’s almost like there’s a war on or something.

I’m sorry, was that a terrible thing to say? I don’t mean to make light of it. None of us do. But I think we’ve found that if we look for a little bit of levity every now and then, it makes this whole thing a bit easier to bear. We haven’t been here long, but we’ve already seen and heard things we’d rather not remember. So we look for the good where we can find it—like Mail Call, when we get special letters from lovely girls back home, just like you.

To answer your question, I’m doing just fine. I suppose I won’t try to get one past the Office of Censorship this time around, but we’re still in the same region of Europe and expect to be so for the foreseeable future. I wish that I could paint you a beautiful picture of what life is like here, but it’s rather bleak at the moment. You can still see the pockets of beauty though—I’m sure it was a wonderful place before this war. I hope that one day, it will be again.

But I’m sure you don’t want to hear me ramble on about the sad state of the world right now. Should we talk about something happier? How was your Fourth of July? I hope it was swell. I admit, my mouth was watering a bit the other day when I thought about all the things my mother always makes to celebrate. I’ll never know how she manages to get it all done, but she prepares a feast for us every year. My favorite part has to be her apple cobbler—drop a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top, and I swear, it’s heaven. All of us were missing home a little extra this Independence Day, so we ended up swapping stories of home and all the ways our families celebrate. I have to say, it did help to dull some of the homesickness. Tommy Boy had us all dreaming about parades marching through town, and Benny couldn’t stop talking about his mother’s berry icebox cake. We made him promise that when this is all over, he’ll have us as dinner guests so that we can sample it for ourselves. Do you have any special Fourth of July traditions?

Speaking of families and traditions, I’m so glad to hear that Paddy, Dottie, and little Frankie are doing well. Although I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting your sister, from everything you’ve told me, it does sound like Paddy has found his perfect match. She sounds like a woman who can certainly keep him on his toes. By the way, please let Paddy know that we all played a rousing game of Rummy in his honor. We look forward to getting to play with him again when we get home.

Gosh, there’s just so much I want to say. But it’s kind of hard, isn’t it? Knowing the right things to say, I mean. I’ve always been kind of amazed at how eloquent people’s letters can be. Mine sort of just end up coming out like a jumbled mess. It’s like I want to tell you everything that crosses my mind—as if we were sitting on that bench together on King Street—but I can’t think of a proper way to do it. So I apologize now if this letter is horribly scatter-brained and messy. I’ll try my very best to be more organized in the future.

What I do have to tell you—and I should have said it earlier—is how much I appreciated your lovely description of your day back in Charleston. Unfortunately, it was rainy and gray here the day I received your letter, but reading your words made it feel as though the warm southern sunshine had been delivered right to us. I hope you don’t mind, but I read that part of your letter to some of the other fellas. They really appreciated it. They’re also very grateful to know that you’re thinking of us and wishing us all the best. So am I. It gives us the boost we need when the days get hard.

Nothing would make me happier than the thought of you saving a dance for me. Maybe next time, I’ll even get to hear that pretty singing voice of yours. I know you said I couldn’t be certain that you were a good singer because you were just humming, but trust me—I know. We listen to music over here sometimes when we’re able, but I do admit it’d be much more fun to be listening to it at another USO dance. Sometimes I’ll hear a song that played that night, and it makes me smile.

Anyway, they’re calling us now, and I should probably stop running my mouth so much. It’s funny—I’ve never been much of a talker (just ask Paul), but with you, I feel like I could write pages and pages, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

I hope this letter hasn’t bored you to tears, and I do hope to hear from you again soon. Thanks for sending along the sunshine.

Sincerely Yours,

Bobby

July 22, 1942

Dear Bobby,

Peach is just fine! It’s lovely, in fact. I’ve never had a nickname just for me before, so that one makes me feel quite special. On top of that, it’s also officially Dottie-approved. She insists she only happened to glance over and “accidentally” catch sight of the beginning of your letter, but I think she may have just been snooping. See? I told you she’d get on wonderfully with Benny and Tommy Boy.

Mail Call sounds like a wonderful day for all of you. The USO has been reminding us how important letter writing can be. They’ve been saying how much it boosts morale for our boys overseas, and clearly they were right. I’m touched that my letter seemed to mean so much. If it really does brighten your day, then I’d be happy to write hundreds of letters. I’m not so sure my words are really sweeter than ice cream or pie, but I will try my hardest.

You don’t have to apologize! I can only begin to imagine what it must be like for you over there. As happy as I am to receive your letters and to know that you’re doing alright, I understand that it may take a while for you to be able to write me. And you most certainly don’t need to apologize for trying to do what you can to preserve your peace of mind. My heart breaks to think what you and your friends, and all the other men over there fighting, have already seen and experienced. They say war is hell, and I absolutely believe it. I could never dream of being even half as brave as you are, Bobby. I mean that. If your heart ever feels heavy with all the burdens you have to carry, please know that you can lay it down with me. I’m more than happy to listen. I know that I won’t have all the answers—who does?—but I’ll always try my hardest to help you carry the load as best I can.

I’ve never been to Europe before, but my parents went to Paris for their honeymoon back in 1916, and my mother still talks about how beautiful and magical it was. It makes me so sad to think that countries that were once so full of life and art and beauty and culture have been reduced to war-torn husks. Like you, I have hope that one day very soon, this horrible war will be behind us and all those wonderful places will be filled with magic once more. And maybe one day in the future, I’ll get to travel there. I’d like that very much.

My Fourth of July was very nice! I have to admit, reading about your mother’s apple cobbler and Benny’s mother’s icebox cake had MY mouth watering. There must just be something about mothers because my mama also LOVES baking up a storm to celebrate Independence Day. One of her favorite desserts to make is—can you believe it?—peach tarts! Maybe we can convince our mothers to swap recipes.

This is the first Fourth of July that I haven’t celebrated with my parents back home in Georgia, but Paddy, Dottie, Frankie, and I had a wonderful day. It was Frankie’s first, so we took him to the parade in town, though I think he would have been more than happy to stay home. Poor baby is teething, and he’s been downright miserable some days. I’m sure Paul knows what that’s like, and I’m sure Natasha is dealing with the same with Paul, Jr. right now. It’s hard to watch him suffer—I know it just about kills Dottie.

Speaking of Dottie, she was rather upset that her baking plans got a bit derailed by our ration cards. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but sugar is being rationed now. We pooled together as many ration cards as we could save, but there’s been such a demand for it that there was hardly any to be found. We settled on a simple pound cake with strawberries, which Dottie wasn’t happy about, but Paddy made sure to cheer her up by making a big show about how it was the best pound cake he’d ever tasted. Personally, I do think it could have used more sugar, but please don’t tell Dottie that I said that.

Thankfully, Frankie took a good nap that day, so he was in much better spirits by the time the fireworks went off. We went down by the water to watch them, and he was mesmerized. I enjoyed them, too, but it felt sort of strange to be having such a nice day when I thought of you and all the other men who have gone off to fight for us. It felt wrong somehow to be celebrating as though there wasn’t a terrible war waging halfway across the world, a war that’s been taking more and more of our men every day. But Paddy helped to put it into perspective for me slightly. He said that the men who are over there fighting—men like you, Bobby—are doing so precisely so that the rest of us can enjoy these freedoms. He said that, if it were him, he’d be happy to know that we were safe and still getting the chance to celebrate our independence. Was he right, Bobby? I hope it doesn’t feel like rubbing salt in a wound, me telling you about our Fourth of July.

Can I tell you something? I think Paddy’s been having a hard time wrestling with the fact that his job allows him to remain stateside during the war. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I heard him and Dottie sitting up in the kitchen one night, talking. I think he feels a bit guilty, being a part of the Navy, but not having to go fight the same way you all are. Dottie has been trying so hard to reassure him, but I noticed that he’s been working even longer hours now—he wants to do whatever he can for the war effort, and to help bring you boys home as quickly as he can. That’s what we’re all hoping for.

I have to admit, I giggled a little bit when I read the part of your letter about feeling like what you write is a jumbled mess. I feel the same. It’s a little tricky to have a conversation on paper, isn’t it? It’s much easier when you’re sitting face to face. Tell you what? I’ll forgive your messiness, if you forgive mine. Does that sound like a deal?

Oh, I’m so glad to hear that the talk of sunshine made you happy, even on a gray and rainy day. And I’m happy that your friends enjoyed it, too. Would you say hello to Paul for me? I’m not sure if he even remembers me, but I’m still so grateful for his kindness at the dance. Maybe say hi to Tommy Boy and Benny for me, too? Even though I haven’t met them officially, I feel like I know them so well through your stories about them.

I’m not sure about where you are, but it’s brutally hot here in Charleston now. Still sunny though, so I’m picturing scooping some of it up and sending it your way. Unless we have errands to run, Dottie and I have been staying mainly inside with the baby. I know we’re supposed to be conserving as much power as possible, but Dottie doesn’t care a fig if there’s a war on when it’s this hot—she’s got all the fans running on full blast. I hope wherever you are, you’re able to keep cool.

I have to say, Ensign Floyd, you really are going to give me a big head one of these days. I assure you that I am not as talented a singer as you seem to think I am, but perhaps I’d be willing to sing along to one song at the next dance we attend. But you have to promise not to laugh when you discover I’m terrible at it. Humming, I promise you, is very different from singing.

Now that I’m on the topic of music, however, I wanted to mention that every time Dottie puts on one of her Glenn Miller records, I think of you and your mother. I know you said she was a big Glenn Miller fan, and I like to think that maybe somewhere in Iowa, she’s listening to “Chattanooga Choo Choo,” same as us.

Just last night, while we were cleaning the kitchen, Dottie and I were listening to the radio and “Blue Moon” came on. Do you know that one? The Al Bowlly song? I think he has such a lovely voice. Anyway, I was listening to the song while I was washing the dishes and it got me thinking about the moon. Gosh, that sounds so silly now that I actually write it out. But it’s true. I was thinking about the moon, and it struck me that the moon that was shining down on me was the same moon that was shining down on you. Even though I don’t even know exactly where in the world you are, when I look up at the moon at night, I can be sure that it’s the very same moon that you’re looking at. I don’t know, maybe it’s silly, but it kind of brought me some comfort. Does that sound horribly hokey? I’m sorry if it does. Maybe if it doesn’t strike you as too terribly sentimental, you can share it with Paul the next time he’s feeling down about missing Natasha and the kids. This war might be keeping us all apart, but at night, when we look up at the moon, we can remember that we’re not so far apart as it seems.

Your letter certainly didn’t bore me to tears, Bobby. On the contrary, it made my day. Now I just hope that MY letter doesn’t bore YOU to tears. Maybe when all this is over, you and I will feel more confident in our letter-writing abilities. I certainly do hope that’s the case.

Stay safe, Bobby. Sending you all my very best.

Sincerely,

Peach

#robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman #WWII AU #1940s AU

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ellaelsinore · 7 months

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Corroded Coffin gets asked to be the house band for the local Hedwig production, clearly the only musicians skilled enough for a rock opera. Eddie didn’t think the show would be fun, but the music clearly rocks, the show is entertaining, it pays and it gives him more opportunities to perform. Costume even lets him wear mostly his own clothes, embellishing his battle vest further, not budging on the obscene amount of eyeliner they insist is “necessary to the plot”. Both Eddie and Steve kinda love it, even when Eddie looks like a raccoon the next morning. It takes all of his time for months, but by the end the boys are pretty proud of what they’ve accomplished and have learned a lot from the director and production staff about putting on a real show.

Steve comes to multiple shows, in the audience and backstage. He prefers being backstage, watching from the wings. He alternates between stage right and stage left, either able to watch Eddie from afar as he plays and dances and sings harmony, or right next to him so he can tell him how pretty he looks every break for the whole show. Eddie basks in the attention he gets from the community, the snobby theater crowd impressed by the skill of four heathens with guitars and a drum kit. The actor playing Hedwig tells them that they’re by far the most talented pit band he has worked with and will keep them in mind the next time he does a rock musical.

Eddie plays Wicked Little Town (reprise) every night like it’s the last time he’s going to play it. He studied the music for weeks, pouring over that particular song, first, because it’s the climax of the musical and second, it reminds him of Steve. Steve who is so much more than the stuck-up, pretty-boy jock he saw in high school. Steve who kept the party and himself alive and safe in the Upside Down, who picked up the pieces of a life that broke around him and built a new family with them. Who changed so completely that anyone from his old life would never recognize the man he had become, who sometimes didn’t recognize himself. Eddie wanted to be the voice Steve could follow, to rebuild this new life together.

Next Corroded Coffin show, Eddie plays a viciously emotional rendition of Wicked Little Town (Reprise), shirtless, black jeans low on his hips, jewelry shining in the stage lights. Robin and Nance made sure that Steve was front and center, Eddie dedicates the song to “his cosmic lover,” and plays to Steve like he’s the only one in the bar. Steve cries into Robin’s shoulder until Eddie slings his guitar over his back and hops off the stage, taking Steve’s face in his hands, kissing away the tears on his cheeks.

“You make this wicked little town worth every minute, Stevie.” Eddie kisses his forehead. “And you will never be alone again, never be a stranger, not if I can help it.” He pulls the ring box out of his pocket, not caring that they’re still in the middle of the Hideout and some asshole (Gareth) got them to adjust the spotlight to where the two men are standing in the pit. Not caring that the whole club has pulled back and is watching two men in desperate love, sharing in a moment that they should be grateful to see.

Steve laughs wetly as Eddie presents the ring, a woven silver band set with three sunshine-yellow stones, nodding before Eddie can even ask the question. “Steve Harrington, will you..” Steve crushes Eddie into a hug, whispering “yes” against his neck over and over. “You didn’t let me finish, Stevie,” Eddie laughs. Steve pulls back to look at his boyfriend, fuck, fiancé, and sees Eddie’s doe eyes misty and rimmed with red, but he’s smiling at Steve and god, Steve could look at him for the rest of his life. “Steve,” Eddie takes a deep breath, takes Steve’s hands in his. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, a million times yes.” Steve lets Eddie put the ring on him, before finally kissing Eddie. However wicked this town was, Eddie was his home, and together they would pick up the pieces and make a beautiful life for themselves.

#steddie #steddie fluff #eddie munson #steve harrington #this is the first thing I've finished in literal years #i love these idiots so much

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gyusimp · 1 year

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°•I can't help falling in love with you•°

I'll post it now cause i want and i can (and probably i'll forget it tomorrow lol) this's my Valentine's day gift from me to you 💌 i don't give a shit about this date lol but enjoy reading! sorry if it's too short but it was made with all my love. I hope you all have a nice day with that special person ❤ Dedicated to: @gyutaro-shabana-upper6

💌 Song inspo: "The fall" - Half alive

There you were, in the middle of the backyard of the school. Your legs were shaking and your hands were starting to sweat, you just hoped that the envelope in your hands wouldn't get wet and ruined. You took your compact powder out of your pocket once more to check that your hair and makeup were in order. Every second seemed eternal, he did remember that you called him here, right?

You heard some footsteps behind you so you quickly turned around to see who it was.

It was Gyutaro.

He was shuffling as usual, with his neutral expression heading towards you. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at him and you felt your face turn red immediately causing your heartbeat to speed up dangerously.

He wasn't suspicious, you were one of the few people in the whole school who were genuinely nice to him so he didn't suspect anything bad about you. You put your hands behind you playing with the folds of your uniform skirt, trying to speak without him noticing how nervous you were.

"H-Hi Gyutaro...you came."

"What did you bring me here for?"

There was no one else besides you two, that was the purpose, that's why you told him to come with you after school.

"I...I-I want to talk w-with you."

"What the hell is wrong with your tongue? Are you okay?"

This was being embarrassing, but after taking a deep breath you plucked up the courage to start speaking.

"I've wanted to tell you something for a long time...you're an amazing guy even though you can't believe it but you're very important to me. T-thank you for...letting me get close to you and being your friend if you consider me that way, I know that sometimes I can be a little irritating but I would never do it to anger you or something like that...Gyutaro, I love being with you and I think it's time that I open my heart to you because I can't hide it anymore; Gyutaro...I love you. "

Gyutaro was in shock, he knew you were serious and that confused him even more. Why would you see any good in a strange ugly guy like him? A girl as cute and kind as you could be with the boy she wanted and you had chosen him?

You stretched out your hands towards him and handed him the letter you had written for him a few days before. Gyutaro couldn't say anything, he opened the envelope and began to read it. Your face flushed even more, you didn't think he was going to read it in front of you and remembering all the cheesy things you put up for him was a bit embarrassing.

Gyutaro smiled after reading the letter but you didn't know if it was because he liked what you wrote for him or if he was making fun of you. He folded the sheet and put it back in the envelope, putting it in his pants pocket.

He scratched the back of his neck and looked a little nervous. He sighed and then began to speak.

"Well I...I have no idea what to say...let's assume that's true-"

"It is, everything is real" you interrupted him. Your heart was beating at full speed.

"Ok...you flatter me. I never thought you would feel all that for me...why?

A silence was present.

"Why not?" you continued. "Gyutaro...I just don't have words to describe what I feel for you. What you read in that letter is the closest but it's so wonderful that it's incapable of describing...I just like you...I like you a lot."

Your hair and his moved slightly with the air, the sky was painted in a beautiful sunset and the petals of the trees floated through the environment.

"Thanks for your honesty, I guess..." he said, looking away, as you looked into his eyes.

Your heart rate was rocking, your legs were shaking, and your stomach and throat were in a knot.

"Well, it's late...I have to go get my sister. See you later."

After Gyutaro said this he just slung his bag on one shoulder and turned around to start walking.

You stood there, speechless, looking at nothing while you felt how your eyes flooded in a second, shedding several tears on your cheeks.

You wiped your eyes with your hand and started walking in the opposite direction towards Gyutaro to return home. All the people were holding hands through the streets, all that stupid Valentine's Day advertisement was everywhere but you didn't want to know anything about it.

What would he think of you now? Would you two still be friends or would he walk away from you? Would he make fun of you behind your back? You felt so, so stupid. When you got home you just left your things on the floor and threw yourself on the bed to cry. Gyutaro's face you couldn't get out of your mind, he was always so close to you more than anyone in school, you talked to him a lot and you had a nice "friendship", he is very insecure of himself so you thought that seeing everything you felt for him, would make him fall into your arms.

You had seemed obsessive? You tried not to be at any time, you didn't want to pressure him or force him to be with you but stupidly, you thought you had a chance with him.

You didn't have bad intentions with him. You've liked other guys before but this was the first time you really felt in love with someone. When you looked at Gyutaro, an immense need to hug him, cradle him in your arms and gently kiss his face grew inside your heart. You wanted to love him in every possible way, take care of him from all danger and give yourself to him to make him happy. You wanted to be his safe place just as he was yours, when you were with Gyutaro all your worries seemed to disappear and your head was focused only on him. You wanted to make Gyutaro happy, get rid of each of his insecurities and make him see how beautiful and important he was, show him affection every day and let him know that you would always be there for him. In good and bad.

Gyutaro picked Ume up from her classroom and they both walked back home as she showed him an unreal amount of chocolates and cards she had received today as well as several confessions she rejected.

The boy just listened to his little sister and made some comments.

"What about you, brother? Did a cute girl confess her love to you today?" Ume asked, happily anxious.

"Pff, of course not. Do you think anyone would like this?" he said, pointing to himself with contempt.

"Well, they're all idiots, those stupid girls don't know what they're missing." her sister encouraged.

If Gyutaro mentioned what happened with you today he wouldn't be able to get his pushy sister off his back. This was a secret for now and he still hadn't finished processing the information so he had to think about it slowly.

That night, Gyutaro read your letter more than 3 times. He tried to read between the lines looking for some sign, metaphor or word to find a hidden meaning but it all seemed very real. It was your handwriting so the idea that someone else had written it for you to fool him, came out of his head. Your handwriting was prettier than usual, it was hand-decorated with lots of details, which meant that you wrote the letter calmly, with dedication, and many days in advance, and the paper smelled of your sweet perfume. You were so romantic.

Gyutaro had no idea what he should do, he didn't have any friends either so he couldn't ask anyone for advice. The one who advised him in difficult moments was always you. He didn't have an answer for you, he didn't want to reject you but he wouldn't come to school tomorrow with a bouquet of flowers for you either, for now the best thing was to act as if nothing had happened and that destroyed you.

The confession that you made to Gyutaro was so sincere that you thought that because of the closeness that the two of you had, he would accept you and you would have a chance with him later, but it was not like that.

He came in the morning and greeted you as usual, fell asleep in class for a while and never brought it up again and since he didn't, you wouldn't either. It was something very difficult to accept but you had to do it.

He didn't feel the same way about you.

Your eyes clouded over just remembering it and you felt a horrible burning sensation in your chest. He was just your friend and that was what he would always be. No matter how much you wanted to hug him when you looked at him each morning, to hold his hand as he walked with you down the sidewalk after school, to kiss his face tenderly when he was going through something difficult, to take him into your arms and tell him that everything would be ok, ask him out for the weekend and have him kiss you on the lips after dropping you off at your house. No matter how much you longed for all of that, it would never happen.

You cried for many days, no matter how tender you were with him, Gyutaro seemed very nervous when he was with you and that led you to think that maybe you were starting to make him awkward so you tried to be more neutral with him even if you didn't want to but you would do it for him. You didn't want him to think you were intense and obsessive with him and that would drive him away from you.

Gyutaro had never fallen in love with anyone in his life. Ume was the "pretty sibling" of the two of them so he never had to deal with things like this until today. It was so fucking new to him that he didn't know what to do with you! He felt so comfortable next to you, you made him feel that he was worth it and although sometimes you could be a bit insistent, those things made him smile. You were pretty, smart, kind and always attentive to what he needed. Gyutaro liked the way you combed your hair every morning, the way you took your markers to write titles with too perfect lettering and when your voice spoke to him it was almost mesmerizing but...why is he thinking all this about you?

It had been almost 1 month since you confessed to Gyutaro and absolutely nothing had happened with him so you had already resigned yourself to the fact that no matter what you did and felt for him, he was simply too insecure to accept and believe that you truly loved him with all your heart.

He felt very nervous today particularly, he remembered all the things that Ume had said to him the night before between scolding. "Stupid Gyutaro!" he repeated himself in his head when he saw you.

The day passed normally until the bell indicating the end of today's classes rang and all the students began to leave the room. You took your things to put them inside your backpack and then you would start walking.

"See you tomorrow, Gyutaro. Rest well."

"Wait!!" he said, stopping you from leaving he took your wrist.

You looked at him a little surprised but confused at the same time, Gyutaro kept looking at you but didn't say anything. A fleeting idea made your heart race.

"Something happens?" You asked.

"I-I a-ahh..." his voice was more shaky and he slowly let go of your arm. "You almost forgot...your pencil." he said awkwardly, handing you a black pencil, embellished with a cat's paw. An emptiness was felt in your chest and some disappointment too.

"Uhh, thanks…see ya." you said, and left the room.

You were walking down the sidewalk, when your cell phone began to ring. You took it out of your pocket and saw that it was a call from Gyutaro. Would you forget anything else?

"All good?"

"Where are you!?" he asked. His voice was loud and agitated, as if he was running at full speed.

"A block from school, I'm almost home. Why? Do you need anything?"

"Don't you dare move! Just stay where you are!"

He hung up the call and you did as he asked. About 5 minutes passed and you heard footsteps behind you, you turned around and saw Gyutaro almost out of breath. His chest was heaving from top to bottom and his forehead was damp with sweat.

"I have…I have to talk to you about something…" he said and your eyes sparkled as your heart skipped a beat at the sight of your letter between his bony fingers.

#gyutaro x reader #gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #kny #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #valentines day #happyvalentinesday #willyoubemyvalentine #feb 14th

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starryyuken · 1 year

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the artist, the muse — j. satur x f!reader

pairing | jeff satur x f!reader

synopsis | jeff satur, and everything this guy is, amazing and absolutely *chef kiss*

author's note | fluff, language, social media au + excuse for any errors or mistakes. feel free to reblog, like, and request for anything xx

JEFF’S POV

The music store had been his frequent location to visit whenever he walked down the road that led to it.

Jeff had been walking the whole day, admiring the beauty Monte-Carlo had to offer, and being thankful of every moment and passing day spent there. He had breakfast with a view of the oceanside, walked down the streets with vendors selling fresh fruits and blooming flowers, had lunch in a nice and quiet restaurant recommended by Bible, which he would come back to tomorrow, and now here he was—inside his favorite music store that had all the artists he loved.

Jeff scanned the store, briefly thinking where to go first, before his feet was taking him to the left side of the store where it’s less crowded. Now, standing by a large shelf, his fingers tapped against the wood before he tipped one of the albums and scanning its price and title before tucking them under his arm before exploring more.

His eyes stopped at a bold lettering on a white and blue banner on a large white shelf. Jeff Satur: Exclusivités, sorties récentes, et faces B. (Exclusives, recent releases and B-sides.)

He eyed a group of friends crowding one of the shelves dedicated to his music, each one taking two or three albums for themselves, searching on their phones for the artist, and he smiled to himself seeing them walking together to the cashier and stacking his albums on the counter including a vinyl of his acoustics and magazines of him modelling on the front cover.

Jeff walked down the aisle to see his works for himself, and couldn’t help but feel proud and happy of himself. Deciding to share the good news with his friend, he fishes out his phone from his pocket and takes a picture of shelf with the background of the store’s window and the oceanside view. Furthering the camera’s view, he stopped to see a figure by the end of the shelf gently bopping her head which was wearing a pair of headphones.

Putting away his phone, he puts it away and walks to the person, whom clearly won’t take notice of his presence unless he makes himself known first, and sneaks a look to what the person was listening to.

Jeff Satur – Je veux être à toi (I wanna be yours)

A song he covered during his early years into the industry, and it’s still being listened to. To such a beauty, at that, Jeff thought to himself.

She was still immersed listening, but he just had to get her attention. He wanted to. Lifting a hand, he gently tapped her shoulder and she shuddered, turning her head to look at him in the face, then quickly sets down the headphones back to its place that was hooked onto the shelf.

“Excusez-moi de vous interrompre, mais je ne peux m’empêcher de voir que vous écoutez une de mes musiques.” (Excuse me for interrupting you, but I can’t help but see that you are listening to one of my songs.)

YOUR POV

He’s…the artist!

Feeling your blood rushing to your face, you avoided his gaze which was full of hope and intensity you couldn’t put to words.

“Oh, mon Dieu! Vous... vous êtes... vous êtes Jeff Satur! En chair et en os!” (Oh my God! You... you are... you are Jeff Satur! In the flesh!)

He covered a laugh by lifting a hand to cover his mouth, but you admired how his eyes crinkled and how he also flushed at the comment.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s actually me. You don’t mind if we speak just like this? Or do you want to switch it back to French?”

Shaking your head, you smiled at the musician whom scratching his neck, believing he’d attract attention seeing as your reaction raised a few heads from inside the store, “We can speak just like this. It’s fine.”

He exhaled and turned to see the small screen that’s been playing the song you were listening. “I completely forgot I covered this song. It’s just so long ago I just…didn’t look back to the things I did that got me here.”

“You sounded so lovely I just had to stop and give it a chance. Best decision ever, if I’d say so myself.” Then, as if a lightbulb had turned on atop your head, you reminded yourself of the album you’d put inside the basket left on a nearby table that contained other items you wished to buy.

“I’ve been looking for this one everywhere and I’m so grateful this one was available. I listen to you online all the time and this was just the perfect gift for myself for discovering such an artist that could capture such feeling into a song,”

Jeff Satur - Pourquoi ne restes-tu pas (Why Don’t You Stay)

“It’s so intimate and beautiful. You did a wonderful job with this, as does with others that you wrote but this one truly stands out for people like me.”

“How is that?”

“People come and go in my life, and I haven’t got the time to heal it all because it passes so quickly. Then, I come here to see if, by any chance, I’ll get something for staying strong through it all. I discovered you and everything just fit so well and so, so perfect,”

“Curiosity got the best of me when this was released and…I think I cried listening to it and then I left a comment online saying I wished so bad to hear it on a live performance. But meeting you here is more than what I could have asked.”

Jeff’s face flushed and, once again, he smiled and crinkled his eyes.

“You’re too generous with your words…If you don’t mind, I can sign it for you?”

By the looks of how his smile turned even wider, you could guess it in his expression how your eyes lit up in response to the offer, and you gave him the copy as he took out a marker that complimented the color of the album cover art. Very carefully, he wrote a message too long for you to read at the backward angle where it’s facing him, so you gave up doing so and let him finish signing.

“Here. And I just have to say, no one’s been so kind to me as you did. Your words really…moved me. Thank you…”

“(Y/N).”

He says your name again, and it felt euphoric hearing them pouring out his mouth, like they were meant to be.

“I’ll see you around?” You asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, “It’s a small world and place, but I’ll look for you!”

You turn around and grabbed your things to the cashier, and before leaving the store with the items bought and packed, your turn around one last time to see Jeff was still watching you as he leaned against the shelf.

He raised a hand and waved, and you waved back, your heart racing a million miles as every step that took you home wished you would run again into him.

---

ONE YEAR LATER

“I want us to be official—let the whole world know about us,”

You sighed, just as you were waking up hearing his soft snores against your ears as Jeff’s arms wrapped around your body, his raspy morning voice sent a shiver through you, like cold water washing over your body but it felt heavenly and could put you back to a slumber.

“What do you say, sweet thing?” He kissed behind your ear and cuddled his body closer to you, perhaps what’s left of closer was trying to curl you into his body as much as he could as an excuse to not let you get up and leave him alone in the shared bed.

“How are you planning to do that?”

“I wrote a song about you last night.”

That was very unexpected. It made you turn your whole body to face him, laying on the bed and his eyes still closed but fully awake.

“Why if I may ask you?”

“Just because. Last night was more than amazing and…I just want to tell you in more than the ways that I’ve told you before that I love you.”

He pursed his lips, rubbing his eyes and now fully opening them.

“You’re very lovely and I’m glad to be the one to get you all for myself.”

Jeff had always been good with his words and never fails to bring you down to your knees, falling head over heels for him more and more everyday.

“Morning kiss?”

“Yes, morning kiss, please,” His forefinger tapped against his lips as it motioned for the said kiss.

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jeffsatur getaway with lover

nnattawin been looking for you everywhere 🧐!

buildurlurve cute and romantic, traditional jeff

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Liked by milephakphum, biblesumett and 21,058 others

yourinstagram fill my heart with song and hear you sing forevermore...

milephakphum beautiful place for a beautiful couple

biblesumett hard launching boyfriend 💋 hard launching girlfriend

nnattawin can't believe you left me behind 😒

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804,102 likes

jeffsatur to make up the lost times, “curious” out tomorrow 11 pst.

tagged; kamikaze, warnermusic

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Liked by nnattawin, jeffsatur, and 60,032 others

yourinstagram moods of jeff during the release of “curious”

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#jeff satur x reader #jeff satur #imagines #x reader #social media au #fake social media #stream dum dum while you're at it #celebrity imagine #jeff satur x you #jeff satur imagines #my fic post

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biggerbetterbat · 1 month

Text

WITH YOU II | [3] A TRAP

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie Reed

Summary: When Rick, Daryl, and Noah leave to Atlanta, the rest of the group is left with Gabriel - who is still treated with distance. Charlie’s wounds are torn again. There’s accident in the church.

Warnings: language, walkers, killing walkers

Song: idk yet

Words: 2,818

A/N: I think I’m doing daily for Easter! I have chapters and it’s a bit boring season, so let’s speed up a little bit.

As Rick and Daryl prepare to leave Judith, Carl, Michonne, and Charlie at the church to keep them safe while they venture out to find Beth, the group springs into action. With makeshift barricades, they fortified every entrance to the church, stacking pews, furniture, and any heavy objects they could find. Each member worked in tandem, fueled by a collective determination to safeguard their haven from external threats. Michonne grabbed some heavy furniture while Carl and Charlie help moved it into place.

Rick and Daryl, tasked with a crucial mission, left behind explicit instructions for the remaining members: Judith, Carl, Michonne, and Charlie.

Charlie felt cautious or uncertain about Noah, as he was a newcomer to the group and trust was hard to come by in the post-apocalyptic world. However, as Noah proved himself invaluable in securing the church and aiding their cause, Charlie's heart warmed to the boy who was looking like a beaten dog. He was a lanky, hurt, and scared. She even felt a little sorry for him.

"Before I go," Daryl approached her. "I believe this is yours."

She furrowed her brows as she looked at the bag that looked awfully familiar. Charlie took it not looking what was inside.

"And this," he said, searching for something in his pocket. "I thought you would like to have it."

Daryl signed for her to show him her hand and she did that without a doubt. Then she felt something cold. She was looking at the silver chain and subtle charm that was connected to it. It was her necklace. He was in her apartment.

Realization hit her and she looked up, but once she did Daryl was already walking away. With shaky hands she looked in the bag and gasped.

Charlie's hands trembled with anticipation as she gingerly reached into the bag Dary had given her. Carefully, she withdrew a handful of memories, each one a significant piece of her past. Photographs, captured moments of laughter and joy with loved ones long gone. Among them, she found souvenirs: a keychain from a road trip, a ticket stub from a concert, a worn-out baseball cap that belonged to her brother. With each item she unearthed, Charlie's heart swelled with bittersweet nostalgia, transporting her back to a time when the world was still whole and her family was by her side.

A single tear was quickly wiped away.

In the dimly lit interior of the church, Charlie sat in a pew, meticulously cleaning their weapons. Her fingers moved with practiced precision, ensuring each firearm was primed and ready for whatever lay ahead. Near her, Michonne was sitting with Judith, her arms wrapped tightly around the young girl. In the warmth of their embrace, the worries of the world seemed to fade away, replaced by the simple joy of being together. Michonne pressed a tender kiss to Judith's forehead, silently vowing to shield her from the horrors of the outside world for as long as she could.

Across the aisle, Carl stood alone, his focus entirely on the empty space before him. With each fluid movement, he practiced his fighting techniques, the sound of his fists meeting the air echoing softly in the sacred space. Michonne was carefully observing Carl, the rhythmic sound of his movements filled the air, a testament to his dedication and determination. Michonne's gaze lingered on the boy, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as pride swelled within her.

"He's getting better every day," Michonne remarked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Charlie looked up and nodded in agreement, her gaze never leaving Carl's form. "He's got a natural talent for it. He's becoming a man."

A soft smile played across Michonne's lips as she watched Carl deliver a series of powerful strikes. "He has came a long way."

"He's going to be just fine," Charlie said, her voice tinged with pride. Charlie placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're looking out for him. He'll be more than alright."

Michonne's expression whenever her gaze wandered to Gabriel. He moved frantically on his knees, a cloth in hand as he scrubbed dry blood stains from the wooden floor. With each swipe, he muttered a quiet prayer, seeking solace.

"Seems like he's trying to scrub away more than just dirt," Michonne whispered.

Charlie got up from her place and approached the priest, dropping cleaned machetes in front of him. "Pick one," Charlie said, looking at him. "If you want to stay with us, you need to learn how to defend yourself."

"We can teach you," Carl said as he materialized next to her out of nowhere.

"Defend myself?" Gabriel looked up. "They said they'd go."

"They were liars and murderers."

"Just like us," the priest said.

Charlie's annoyance simmered beneath the surface as Gabriel continued to label them murderers. Gabriel's accusations cut deep, especially since they came from someone who killed many more people. Rick's decision to eliminate the threat had been a calculated one, made to protect their group.

"We protected ourselves," the boy tried to convince the man. "They wanted us dead."

"Rick did what he had to do to keep us safe. We're survivors, not murderers."

Gabriel's gaze hardened, his conviction unwavering. "There's always a choice, Charlie. Taking a life is never the answer."

Charlie clenched her fists, her patience wearing thin. "Maybe in your ideal world, but out here, in this reality, it's kill or be killed. You of all people should understand that by now."

The tension in the room thickened as their conflicting ideologies clashed.

"You're lucky your church has lasted this long," Carl said in a calm voice. "You can't stay in one place anymore. Not for too long. And once you're out there...You're gonna find trouble you can't hide from. You need to know how to fight."

Charlie couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration whenever Carl spoke. Despite his young age, his words were filled with wisdom beyond his years, earned through the harsh lessons of survival in their post-apocalyptic world. He was truly becoming a man.

"I need to lay down," Gabe said and stood up from his knees. But before walking away, he grabbed a machete and smiled slightly at the boy.

Charlie couldn't contain the surge of emotion that washed over her as she watched Carl. She enveloped Carl in a tight hug. For Charlie, the embrace was more than just a gesture of affection; it was a silent acknowledgment of their unspoken connection, bound, and admiration. As she held onto Carl, she felt a sense of nostalgia as he wasn't a little boy anymore, his experiences were slowly shaping him into a man.

"I tried," he said.

"I know."

The day was dragging mercifully, while they were being locked in the church. The air was heavy with the scent of dust and decay, a stark contrast to the tension that filled the room. Gabe was still gone and quiet behind the doors to his room. "You don't trust him."

"I don't."

"Do you think he is hiding something more?"

"I think that he doesn't trust us either," Charlie said.

"But what if we're wrong? What if Gabriel's just going through something, and we're misjudging him?" Michonne asked.

"Trust is earned, and we can't afford to gamble with it," she answered. "Just because he's a priest."

As Michonne's attention was engaged in her doubts, Charlie's attention was momentarily drawn away by a soft sound from the corner of the room. She turned to see Judith, rubbing her eyes sleepily. "Come on, baby," Charlie stood up and took a little girl in her arms, and cooed in her best baby voice. "It's a time for a nappie."

Charlie gently tucked the blanket around Judith, ensuring she was comfortable before quietly slipping away from her side. As she made her way back, she noticed Carl sitting alone, his gaze fixed on the floor, lost in thought. She sat down next to him and smiled as he looked at her."You're good at this," Carl snorted and got a hard smack on the back of his head.

"It's been a long day," Charlie sighed, leaning her head on the wooden bench.

"It seems like it," he nodded. "He is strange."

She followed his gaze, as it was resting on the closed doors. "Yeah."

"I think we should be careful today," he said. "Especially, if dad won't be back till night."

Charlie looked at him and nodded. "If you feel like it...we can't ignore our instincts. We'll figure it out together, like we always do."

With a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder, Carl nodded and it seemed he wanted to say something, but a loud scream cut through the air. "Help! Please don't leave me out there! Please!"

The dull thud of Michonne's boots echoed through the deserted corridor, her katana swaying gently at her side as she made her way toward the abandoned building's entrance. The air was thick with tension. "It's Gabriel."

"What is he doing out there?" Charlie furrowed her brows.

"I know now! Let me live with it!" Gabe screamed and soon enough they all heard familiar growling and snarling.

Charlie clenched her hands into fists, her frustration mounting with each passing moment. She didn't trust him, but she deeply believed that he could value the safety they had in the church. As the minutes stretched into hours, Charlie couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at her insides. Gabriel's decision to leave had put them all at risk, and she couldn't understand how he could be so reckless, so selfish.

Carl and Michonne started to break wooden barricades so Gabe could enter the danger that was coming closer.

Charlie's heart pounded in her chest as she watched Gabriel stumble through the church doors, his face pale and drawn, her fingers clenched on Judith's clothing. Worst fears were realized as she saw them – a horde of walkers, their rotting flesh illuminated by the pale moonlight, their empty eyes fixed hungrily on their prey.

Michonne drew her katana, her grip steady as she prepared to face the onslaught head-on. As the first of the walkers reached the entrance of the church, Michonne sprang into action, her blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Carl and Charlie fought at her side.

But for every walker they felled, two more seemed to take its place, their numbers swelling with each passing moment. With a grunt of frustration, Michonne redoubled her efforts, her muscles burning with exertion as she fought to keep the creatures at bay.

"The rectory! Come on!"

Gabriel held the heavy wooden doors shut with all his might, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he strained against the weight of the undead horde pressing against them. Outside, the relentless moans of the walkers echoed through the night, a constant reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond their fragile sanctuary.

Inside the dimly lit room, Charlie's heart pounded in her chest as she watched Gabriel struggle to keep the doors closed. Fear gnawed at her insides, threatening to consume her with every passing moment. She had faced death before, but never like this, never with the knowledge that it was waiting just outside, ready to devour them all. Charlie realized that their time was running out, that soon the creatures would break through and all hope would be lost.

"That's how I got out," Gabriel said, gesturing towards the floor. "Crawl under to the back. Take the little one and go."

Charlie gave the baby to Carl, pushing him towards the opening in the floor. She was watching the boy disappearing under the building, praying that there's no danger waiting for them there.

Shortly after, Charlie was pushed by Michonne into the opening and without question she obediently rushed to join Carl. As Charlie crawled under the church, the darkness enveloped her, broken only by dim shafts of light filtering through the dusty air. The scent of damp earth mingled with the musty odor of old wood, and the echoes of her hurried breaths echoing against the ancient walls. With each cautious movement, she could feel the weight of the world pressing down upon her, as if the very earth itself were closing in, threatening to swallow her whole. Charlie wanted to cry from fear, imagining that something was right behind her, ready to kill her. Yet, driven by desperation and the primal instinct to survive, she pressed on, her heart pounding in her chest like a drumbeat.

As Charlie embraced Judith, a sense of relief washed over her, finding solace in the warmth of her embrace amidst the chaos. Meanwhile, Carl's swift movements dispatched the remaining walkers outside, his steady hand and determined gaze a testament to his resolve. With Gabe and Michonne at the helm, the heavy church door groaned shut, sealing off the horde of walkers inside their sanctuary.

She placed the baby in Carl's safe hands and rushed towards Gabriel. "What the hell was that?! You wanted to kill us?!" she yelled and pushed him. "What were you thinking?! Were you thinking at all?!"

"Woah, Charlie."

"Calm down!" Michonne yelled at her, gripping her arm tightly. Charlie was boiling with fury, she was ready to just push the priest into arms of death as she was sick and tired of him. She pushed Michonne lightly and turned to walk away, back to Carl and Judith. The woman with katana looked at Gabe. "Where did you go?"

"The school," he admitted. "I had to see. I had to know."

Charlie furrowed her eyebrows. Gabriel went to school to check if they were saying the truth. He wanted to check if those guys they killed were bad. "See what? Bob's leg for God's sake?"

"Charlie, shut up," Michonne barked as the Walkers in the church were trying to get out as the doors were too damaged.

"Where do we go?" Carl asked in fear, seeing the doors almost breaking from the strength of the walkers.

The distant rumble of an approaching vehicle sliced through the air in a mix of relieve and fear of new danger approaching. Soon, the unmistakable silhouette of a fire truck emerged from the swirling mists outside, its red paint gleaming dimly in the fading light of dusk. With a shudder and a hiss, the fire truck came to a halt in front of the church doors, its engine growling like a caged beast eager to break free. As the dust settled and the engine fell silent, the heavy doors creaked open, revealing the familiar faces of Abraham, Glenn, Rosita, Maggie, and Tara stepping out.

Charlie's breath caught in her throat as she laid eyes upon them, a flood of emotions washing over her like a wave crashing against the shores. Relief surged through his veins like a wildfire, igniting a spark of hope in the depths of her weary soul. Charlie stepped forward to greet her friends, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Without a word, she threw herself into Glenn's arms, her embrace tight and desperate, as if clinging to him for dear life. In that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, the weight of their shared struggles melted away, replaced by a sense of comfort and security found in the familiarity of Glenn's embrace.

"Eugene lied," he said to her, but everyone heard.

"What?" Charlie furrowed her brows, pushing away slightly.

"He can't stop it," Glenn explained. "Washington isn't the end."

Charlie's heart sank like a stone into the depths of despair. The weight of disappointment bore down upon him, crushing his hopes and dreams. With a heavy heart hidden beneath a facade of composure, Charlie forced a small smile as she greeted Tara, Maggie, and Rosita. Though she knew that Eugene's theory was too perfect to be true, she decided not to show it.

"Glad to see you all safe," she said, approaching three girls, expressing her relief.

As Charlie made her way towards Abraham, a knot formed in her stomach, a tangible reminder of the unresolved tension that lingered between. They had parted ways in anger, their words sharp and cutting, leaving wounds that had yet to heal.

Abraham's gaze met hers, a flicker of uncertainty dancing in his eyes as he struggled to find the right words to say. "Say it," he said. "Say that you were right."

Charlie looked at the ginger man. "I'm glad you're back."

Her words hung in the air between them. For a moment, the silence stretched on, the weight of their unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air.

Finally, Abraham's features softened, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, me too," he replied, his voice gruff yet tinged with a hint of warmth. And then he turned to Maggie. "Let's blow this joint, go save your sister."

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon series #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl the walking dead #daryl twd #daryl x reader

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ynit-a · 1 year

Text

Love Song - Choi Jongho

LOVE SONG - C. JONGHO

SHORT STORY!

Pairing: Idol! Jongho x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none. Just perfect you.

Something you liked to do was write, from short poems to stories or novels. When you met your lover, your emotion stood out from your body knowing that he could sing those notes that you so hoped to make known, you never thought of asking him for such an action, because you would not know if he would take it in a bad way, so you only dedicated yourself to write in a small notebook those thoughts that he provoked you.

Over time, your way of showing your love to him was with your words, you weren’t good at physical affection, so you showed him this way. You got into the habit of writing him short poems on a small piece of coloured paper and keeping them in his pockets every time he left, always making him smile and blush with your words when he felt that little bulge in his pockets.

Whether it was out of the country or at his job, you always had new words for him, and he loved it.

This time it was not different, when he left to give concerts abroad, you usually put your notes in his suitcase, under all his clothes where you would know he would find them when he was almost done. But instead of poems in various notes, he found a letter where you had written those words that you ever expected to be accompanied by the sweet voice he had.

You had finally worked up the courage to ask him to sing those thoughts that he had inspired.

I wrote another love song baby about you.

Another line for every second without you.

And it goes like this oh oh.

Your handwriting in that fine point ink was something Jongho loved, it looked elegant and beautiful, just like you. That ink that he managed to take his breath away with every word she created, those that made even his ears blush.

Pure love, that was it.

You came out of nowhere like a hurricane

You pulled me and you kissed me in the rain, and I fell in love with you.

And my whole life changed.

Something in him was being crushed, each of his feelings seemed to come out of his skin and dance in the air, that atmosphere that forms when someone is in love, the one that suffocates and calms at the same time.

That provoked each of your words; that love that is like a constant explosion in the chest, and at the same time, a sunset of those tender ones in which you cry without wanting to. And that's right, the most absurd and precious mix in the world. Of the one who makes you think, it's all or nothing. Of the one who is risking his life that only makes sense, if you are ahead.

Oh, I find all my inspiration thinking of you

I want to see the whole world with you, baby you might be the one, because you're driving me crazy.

His eyes clouded over some tears that were beginning to form, his heart was beating like crazy, and his stomach was doing pirouettes with emotion. There he understood how much you were to him, that perfection that was unmatched in his eyes, the one that only you possessed.

With a smile, he took the cell phone and dialled your number, and there in that call, the line realised what two people in love are like, two people who experience that pure love that only some find.

I love you, that's what they said when they hung up.

#ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez #ateez jongho #ateez choi jongho #ateez oneshot #ateez x reader

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throwaway-yandere · 1 year

Note

(Nutjob anon!)

I FINALLY could sit down and finish reading the chapter 😭 It was sooo good! When I saw that you could leave a comment for Tighnari, for some reason it never crossed my mind that it will be used for the next chapter! That it was just for you to know how people felt about him... Alas, I had a shocked expression when I saw my comment there (the fur one) DKFICKFRUW If I knew, I would have said something softer just to help with Capo's mental health... if it would have done something, so much vitriol but for what? At least capo was in character the whole time, or else Tighnari would have suspected something because... he burned an entire mansion and capo's underboss, yet this is how you are treating him? Completely suspicious.

Not an inch of sadness in me about the lost Venti route; the man have been avoiding me for a year and I choose Cyno over him, so it is obvious which loss affected me more 💀 but... I'm starting to realise that Cyno is, probably, the most dangerous one out of the three main LI. If he ever gets his hand on the Gnosis (probably think he is the right one to use it. Being a man dedicated to the gods, who but him is the best candidate to appreciate a divine mechanism?), that will solidify his spot. I wonder if by making him tag along would have prevent Haitham from almost dying, as funny as it is. But the chance of still having Rosaria do the job while he kept Capo company is quite high, so poor Haitham, destined to always suffer OFJFIEIE And, while talking about Cyno, his % raised quite fast, even after just one interaction... which makes me wonder: what will happen if, let's say, his meter reaches 100% before the end of the common route? Will we immediately pass to his route, or do we have to wait until reaching point of divergences and the higher % will be the route that will take place?

Haitham being the less problematic of the three was something that I wasn't expecting (at least for now). We don't know how high Tighnari's meter is, but something tells me that it will be somewhat difficult to lower it. He is aware he is dealing with a "cold blood murderer", has seen how Capo work and behave... anything that was told to him this chapter, was something he probably expected (yet, it still hurts him to hear). The only thing I belive would decrease or even change his goal, is killing both Cyno and Collei.

AND HOW DARE YOU??? KILLING LINDHART LIKE THAT?

Ansy: *shots Lindhart* Why would Tighnari do this?

On top of that, that siesta better be the mortal equivalent of a God's slumber, given the options you presented for Dottore 🙃

(Also... may I raise the possibility of Capo addressing Scaramouche as Polly Pocket? Or just Dolly 😂 any doll of that era will do)

I think that's all I have to say for now, probably forgot something but oh well AIFJJFKF I saw that Dottore fic on your writting list, so I'll like to recommend this song I found a week ago! It's...something haha.

MAJOR OCMC CHAPTER 3 SPOILERS:

I LOVE how you brought Cyno up.

It's funny how the most "holiest" love interest from the main three four is the one who is the most willing to spill blood. But are you sure him obtaining a gnosis will solidify his spot? A man who constantly speaks of justice and morals must be compensating for something, wouldn't you agree?

These three are creepy in their own right.

Tighnari has a tendency to "infantilize" and thinks he knows what's best for you. He thinks that as your friend, he knows what's best. He can be a hypocrite when he wants to be. "Life is not an expendable commodity and knowledge should not be wielded like a scepter" but the moment YOU'RE the one in danger these type of righteousness mutterings are out the window. Tighnari is fully aware of what he says and does. It's his way of masking his own guilt. If Tighnari can wield a hydro gnosis just fine, then he must be doing the right thing... Right?

Alhaitham has a crazy hyperfixation that would be seen as "romantic" but honestly if I wrote that segment as what it honestly is in a general perspective and not his: a creep who can't get over his first crush for 6 years and would break into people's (kaveh and cyno's) houses to eavesdrop & gain information– then you'd probably think twice if he's the least problematic LI. A horror story can be worded into an unrequited romance with just a few tweaks.

And then there's Cyno, who can easily hide behind the excuse that all he's doing is for work. It's technically half of the truth. It is work. He's been watching your career ever since you became a Capo and he's so good at his job that you never once met him before the Innamorati Familia Manor Incident. Imagine how difficult it would've been if he never showed his face– the possibility that Capo can pin the crime on him would be slim to none. He's too competent, really. Compared to these three four, you'd have the hardest time defeating Cyno in a fight. You lack physical strength but excel in speed– the inquisitor has both. Just let him handle everything. It's what Lesser Lord Kusanali would've wanted.

Kaveh on the other hand, is a different story. He's certainly a "fun" LI. The architect has known you for quite a while but fate is literally against him whenever he wants to meet you. Kaveh's a breath of fresh air compared to these three. Just make sure Alhaitham is taken care of.

As for your other comments...

I fricking love the short answer segment it makes me feel like I know my readers more afterwards. Still wish there was a way for me to include the "Hatsune Miku would never" line lmao. Your fur line was pretty dope I liked it!!!

I have a second account (that I don't really use. I just open it whenever there are codes and wish–) and I think venti hates me. He was guaranteed and yet I still have to hit exact 90 to get him... Yeah so anyways he's still level 40 lmao. Better than my main account where all the archons hate me and Nahida dropped C2 Diluc on me–

BTW: If Cyno tagged along Alhaitham will DIE. Rosaria is hesitant to kill Alhaitham out of respect for you but Cyno? He's gone immediately, and he could make it seem like an accident. You would be suspicious of him yes– but at least one of the major competition is out of the way.

Routes mostly depends on the story progression BUT if an LI reaches 50% then it's automatically THEIR route. This is why if you really want the main three four I suggest avoiding secret routes because their points are the easiest to obtain but the hardest to find. (Diluc is literally around half of 50% over one interaction. If you don't want him leave him alone.)

"the only thing that would decrease his chance is killing both Cyno and Collei" which is why Cyno us hard to get rid off. He has the church's support + Tighnari's friendship and Tighnari can hide behind his cure. And Alhaitham? Ha. He has absolutely nothing. He's the real definition of "replaceable."

... and haha whoops my bad?– hAHAHHA I JUST THOUGHT YEAH LINDHART PROBABLY WOULDN'T SIDE WITH THE FASCISTS, TOO MUCH WORK, HE'D PROBABLY AGREE TO DIE INSTEAD–

Dottore is so fricking fun lololol, I'm taking Webttore instead of in game!dottore here because I like feral men.

Stan webttore– also, interesting song choice for dottore... Ehehe....

#ansytea-talks #tag: ocmc - cta #yandere cyno #yandere alhaitham #yandere tighnari #nutjob anon

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meissashush · 10 months

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Rosea, Part the Third: 📸✂️🎁👑🎵

📸 CAMERA - do they enjoy having their picture taken? what's their go-to pose? do they like taking photos? what do they take photos of?

Absolutely not! She hates it, really, since the only people who tend to stick a camera in her face are paparazzi and Prompto. Her go-to pose if flipping the latter off. She's pretty ambivalent about taking photos, much more likely to let Prompto do it, but if she does, it's usually of something odd like a neat bug or stupid face Gladio made when he sneezed.

✂️ SCISSORS - what is the "last straw" for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people?

Rosea has both a disturbingly high and frustratingly low tolerance for people, depending on who they are. For most people, she's liable to cut them out of her life just for being annoying at the wrong time. Not so much cut, mind you, but more or less simply write them out of her mind. For people she is close to, like Noct, there's a lot more tolerance than there really should be. She's most likely to cut someone like that off if she decides they no longer want her around. Whether or not said person feels that way is hardly consequential once she decides to up and fuck off.

But once she lets go? She lets go. You'll be hard pressed to find yourself in her good graces again.

🎁 PRESENT - what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving?

If Rosea never had to receive or give another present in her life, it would be too soon. For the most part, she likes practical gifts. A decent shirt, a pocket knife, grocery money. She's alright at gift giving, so long as the giftee is the sort of person to forget to buy themself something important, like a new camera lens cover or extra fishing line. People who remember to get anything they need the second they need it? Those people are the worst for her to buy for. Ignis.

👑 CROWN - what does your oc want to be remembered as? why?

She really doesn't want to be remembered, honestly. There's something so sad about growing up with all the people around her already having their legacies stretching out beyond them. She's seen her friends and her father struggle under the weight of expectation, and knows well that what the people remember is not always a reflection of the truth.

If she had to be remembered, she'd want to just be another name in a list of people. Nothing too personal, nothing too grand. Let those ones who loved her remember her, and let the rest of the world forget.

🎵 MUSIC NOTE - what is their playlist like? their favourite artists? do you associate a particular song with them?

Alt-rock. The music Rosea listens too is usually relatively underground rock from all about the Insomnia music scene. It was never really on purpose, it just so happened that the first CD she ever owned was given to her in the subway station by a group of musicians trying to get their name around. She liked it enough to make a point of snagging a CD from the next group she saw, and so on and so forth. She got more picky about it as time went on, but needless to say most of her music taste is 'under the radar'.

That said, in the real world, I associate her heavily with quite a few songs. I actually have a whole playlist dedicated to her. That said, right now I'd say Terrible Things by Brick + Mortar.

#ffxv #rosea leonis #my stuff #ask game fill #awlwren

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theswarmanthology · 1 year

Text

River, 17

"Most of my experience in the fandom has been on tumblr. It's really hard to find diehard fans in person. The online community is so positive and welcoming, and people are so dedicated to this band! The shows that I didn't go to, I watched livestreams with most if not all of my tumblr mutuals, and we all get SO EXCITED whenever new pictures drop etc etc."

Fast Facts: How long have you been a fan?: 3-5 years Did you get to see MCR live before this tour?: No, this tour was my first time seeing MCR How many shows on this tour did you attend in total?: 1 Favorite album: Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge Show experience out of 10: 10 Did you cry at your show?: Yes

Which date of the tour did you attend? 09/15/22, Xcel Energy Center, St. Paul, MN

When did you get your tickets for your show? Was it a struggle, or were they easy to grab? I got them about two weeks prior on stubhub. Fairly easy to grab but most of the seats were sold out already.

Did you attend with anyone else? my dad

What did you wear? I wore my revenge shirt with jeans and a leather jacket and a choker! And a couple necklaces. (I ended up having to hold my phone the entire time because my pockets were too shallow. Women's pants, you know how it is)

Where were your seats? I had a seat about 2/3 od the way down the arena, 7 or 8 rows up on frank's side

What was your favorite song(s) from the setlist they played at your show? Helena was honestly a whole spiritual experience

What song were you most hoping to hear? Did you get to hear it? Well. I was a demo lovers truther before they played it in NJ, and they didn't play it at my show, but they did close with desert song and. That was an experience to say the least.

What was your favorite moment from the show? Oh god I have a couple. MCR lets the audience sing the into to FLW on their own. Being in the same room with 10,000 other people singing their hearts out to that and the chorus of Helena easily as loud as the band itself... that is a life-changing experience. I'm not exaggerating. I've never felt such a deep connection with so many strangers. There were a couple moments in the show where I looked to my left at the person in the next row, and they looked at me, and we smiled at each other we were both so emotional. That happened when they started desert song too, I looked back at them and they looked at me and we both immediately started crying. After the show was over and everyone was leaving I turned to them and said "I DONT KNOW WHO YOU ARE BUT I LOVE YOU" and they said "I LOVE YOU TOO"

What was the most unexpected moment from the show? Desert song! They had played it once two shows before mine so I was thinking they won't play it twice. That's a one time deal. and then.

Many fans describe seeing MCR live as feeling like coming home. Did you experience anything like that at your show? oh yes. oh yes yes yes. I have never felt a stronger sense of belonging in my entire life.

If you could change one thing about your show experience, what would it be? i wish i got pit tickets but they were all SOLD OUT

Has your perspective or opinion about the band changed since seeing them on this tour? If so, in what way? I got SO much deeper into storylines. Everything that had to come together for all of this to happen, everything that happened for it all to have the depth of meaning it does now.

What advice would you give to people seeing My Chemical Romance in the future? If you ever get the chance, absolutely take it. It's worth every penny. Also make sure you have a water at the show, screaming blows your throat out hella fast

Thanks, River! She can be found on Tumblr at @your-icy-blues and on Discord at Persephone 🦋#3401.

#story #09/15/22 #mcrstpaul

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this-is-an-open-letter · 2 years

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What is your hot take on Taylor submitted ATW10 Short Film for an Oscar and wiring a campaign manager? Do you think its something she could actually win?

I don't know that its necessarily an Oscar worthy Short Film but I don't not necessarily think that either lol

I think she has every right to submit and its as warranted that she receives a nomination, which is the step she's at now - just trying to get the nomination. (I am curious to see if when the time comes she actually does press and puts together a Campaign to get the nomination.)

I am new to the Taylor Swift Fandom so I'll likely step on toes- but from what I've seen from other fans, there seems to be a level of embarrassment that she would even attempt to submit the Short Film for consideration and I am truthfully surprised by that.

I am not surprised that this fandom, like ALL fandoms, splits themselves into two very distinct parts - those that believe that everything Taylor does, says, sings, wears, expresses is perfect and she should be awarded for literally just breathing (I respect the dedication) and the other half that loves her just as much but are also not afraid to call her out on her shit (this list is long because how we perceive someone to be and who they actually are (when its someone you don't actually know) means expectations don't get met and she becomes the target of that disappointment/disapproval), but there is a very clear line in TS Fandom which is that everything Taylor creates should be respected to varying degrees, so for the discourse around her wanting this Nomination to be seen as embarrassing is a bit of a head scratcher for me.

In all that I've deep dived about Taylor in the past 2 months via YouTube and Podcasts and written articles, Taylor biggest push for anything is just to be taken seriously. Period. Whether its her songs, her writing and now her directing - she just wants people to take her work and her dedication seriously. For the past 2 decades of her career she's had to fight every step of the way for people to not just take her seriously but believe that she is the artist she perceives herself to be. The lack of belief, even to this day, that she doesn't write her own music. The fight for her masters that somehow painted her as money hungry but not the small man child with deep pockets who literally bragged about 'owning' Taylor Swift. The list is endless everyone knows that. But I think when it comes to her career specifically, she's going to grab at any chance that means people are regarding her as a smart in charge business woman because for some reason she still needs to convince people she can be all of that and still write her own music.

Maybe there is a level of that desire that means she spends too much time on something that may seem unrealistic to us but very plausible to her but its always going to be this way because that desire to be taken seriously seems to outweigh all else...which honestly? Why not? She's not untalented in this department. ATW is a mostly biographical look at a failed relationship off a mostly biographical song...a song that has been listed in the top three of best break up songs of all time, the film is an extension of that. Beautifully shot, beautifully acted - impactful in its own way (this has to be self reflected as everyone views music differently).

Her likelihood of winning is a whole other conversation that not a single person can truthfully explain because the voting process for the Academy is different than most other awards.

But winning? that a pretty solid form of being taken seriously and who wouldn't want that?

#taylor swift #listening to Tolerate It which is fueling me to just keep writing and writing #i mean I get it but give the woman some slack - let her fight for this #its deserved in its own way #also All Too Well - everyone's waiting a decade for this - what we got was beyond just the song...so lets celebrate #asks

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thepermanentrainpress · 2 years

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CONCERT REVIEW: ALANIS MORISSETTE W/ GARBAGE AT ROGERS ARENA - JULY 31ST, 2022

Few Canadian solo artists have had the impact and influence Alanis Morissette does. Performing from a very young age, she released Jagged Little Pill when she was only 21. It won multiple Grammys including Album of the Year, has sold over 30 million copies, and influenced many subsequent artists. It is generally acclaimed as one of the greatest international debuts ever – and it’s no surprise a tour celebrating its 25th anniversary was just as amazing.

Opening the show were alt 90s rockers Garbage. Formed and based in the US with Scottish singer Shirley Manson, this band shares status with Alanis in being huge icons of their era. They played in front of a giant backdrop of two stone angels, with strobe lights, flashing colours, and energy just as, if not more intense than many newer bands I’ve seen.

Garbage played for almost a full hour, with stage presence that really brought the house down. In the early evening just after 7pm as they came on, most of the audience was sitting. But a few songs in, almost everyone was standing, dancing, and pumped. You could really feel the mood in the room as the crowd began to warm up and rock out.

They circled through 12 songs, including their most recognizable hits “Stupid Girl” and “Only Happy When It Rains.” Shirley commanded the stage in a sparkling, dazzling black onesie. She ran around lots, shaking back and forth as only a seasoned cool rock star can do. She interacted with the audience a lot – in fact much more than Alanis ever did. She told a story about how, on tour in Edmonton, Alanis left the band an unexpected gift in the dressing room – a broom. “This is where gender divides us, because all the men in the audience are confused, and all the women are saying hell yeah, a broom!”

She wished Vancouver a very happy Pride (as our festivities were happening that weekend), asserting that Garbage would always be allies to the LGBTQ – which received massive applause. She referred to today’s “weird conservatism” and gave a passionate and fiery speech about women’s rights and bodily autonomy relating to abortion, complete with curse words, emphasizing “my body, my choice.” Dedicating a song to the young women in the audience, it was clear Garbage is just as cool and compassionate as ever.

Garbage really got everyone excited for the main event. Just 25 minutes or so later around 8:30 the lights dimmed. It started with a video retrospective detailing Alanis’ life and career over the years. Snippets of interviews, movies, and parodies of her music throughout the 90s were shown. It was a reminder of her past and current impact, with some truly hilarious sketches laughing at herself. She came on stage alongside her full band and immediately launched into the upbeat, empowering anthem “All I Really Want.”

This tour was featuring Jagged Little Pill played in its entirety. I wasn’t sure if she would be performing the album in order or mixing the setlist up. I wasn’t even sure if she would be playing any songs off her other records. In the end, she performed the thirteen tracks out of order and played between five to ten other songs. Some of these were just snippets/transitions between more familiar tracks, and the focus was definitely on JLP. As a longtime fan very familiar with the album and her other eras, I thought this was a great decision. It ensured a better mix between faster and slower songs, saving some of the best for last while diversifying the whole set.

Jagged Little Pill is an album that’s honest, heartfelt, and empowering. It’s sarcastic and sad, yet also encouraging and optimistic. The lyrics are poetic yet catchy and personal yet universal. So many of the choruses and even verses had us all singing along. “Hand in My Pocket” had us going on about being poor but happy. “Head Over Feet,” a personal favourite of mine, had me almost in tears humming along about not being surprised if someone loves you for all that you are. There was the classic hit “Ironic” that had everyone chanting about rain on your wedding day. (Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?) And of course, she closed the main set with her most heated and arguably recognizable hit – one of the most angsty and exciting breakup songs of all time. In that moment, we were ALL here to remind you of the mess you left when you went away. (You, you, you oughta know.)

What struck me most about the performance was just how youthful and similar to the studio recordings Alanis sounded. She’s been in the industry for three decades, consistently touring and recording. She’s had three children and gone from being barely out of her teens to middle-aged. Nevertheless, with the notes and pitch hit, you’d swear she hadn’t aged a day. Her music is both pop and alt-rock and involves lots of screaming, stretching, and wailing. I think it really speaks to her talent and stamina that the live sound is so clear and present.

In addition to the music, a striking feature of the show was the imagery. Almost every song had an interesting visual accompaniment. Videos of dancing teens, scheming men, and fiery flames amongst others backdropped Alanis at fifty feet tall. There were psychedelic and cosmic backgrounds, dishes being broken, peace signs for “Hand in My Pocket,” and stained glass church windows for “Forgiven.” (You know how us Catholic girls can be...)

The non-JLP tracks were a solid mix of her later years. A standout was one of her latest singles, “Reasons I Drink” – a rather funny yet emotional and probably all-too-relatable tune. I wasn’t sure if the set would be intimate and solo or upbeat and detailed. In the end it was the latter; not once did Alanis perform solo or on the piano. This never took away from the experience, and she still played the harmonica and guitar at times.

The encore was beautiful, touching and emotional. She began with “Your House” – a hidden track on the original album – and comedically restarted the song three or four times to a different tempo and musical style. (“No, that’s not it…”) Alanis circled through her 1998 track “Uninvited,” which included a few candid family photos of her, her husband, and three young children, to lots of applause. Finally, we finished with the cheerful and sweet hit “Thank U.” This was accompanied by the stage backdrop showing dozens of tweets from fans with the hashtag #ThankYouJLP25. These tweets had messages stating what these people were thankful for—everything from comic books and live music to family, friends, and life itself. It was touching and personal, and a great way to include fans from around the world.

Rogers Arena holds over 18,000 people, and the show was sold out. I think it’s amazing that two women who peaked in the 90s can not only sell out an arena in 2022, but rock a crowd of all ages delivering the highest quality show possible. Being in that arena was like stepping back in time, reliving and experiencing glory days with the young and old. This was my first arena concert since 2019 in what was a different world, as I’m sure it was for many in the audience. It’s really great to be back sharing and experiencing live music again. I couldn’t have asked for a better return to large shows.

Written by: Cazzy Lewchuk

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