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samusique-concrete · 3 months

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My favorite albums of 2023

This is not a list of the ‘best’ albums of the year. These are just my favorites. However, i need you to understand something: I don’t have the time and/or brain bandwidth to listen to and forge a bond with every single album i’d like to get to in any given year. Thus, my disclaimer is twofold — the following are my favorite records of the year, among the selection of records that i did have time to get to. I’m sure i would’ve loved many others, but i just don’t wanna be someone who’d listen to an album for the first time at the end of the year, decide it’s ‘great’, and rank it shoulder to shoulder with my favorites. It would be disingenuous.

I will now present my ten favorite records of the past year, but there’s another catch: i will only talk about four of them, and they won’t be precisely my top four either. Instead, i’m going to talk about my tenth most liked album, and then my third through to number one. It’ll make sense as the read goes on.

Let’s begin.

IN TIMES NEW ROMAN…

Queens of the Stone Age

I’ll just say this right now: there hasn’t been, to me, a better mainstream rock act than Queens of the Stone Age since at least 2002. They represent what i would say is ‘as good as it gets’ in the genre. Even now, in 2023, when frontman Josh Homme is older and naturally starting to slow down (although tracks like Paper Machete would suggest there's plenty of gas left in the tank,) he still manages to unabashedly follow his own musical compass, that which was forged decades ago by his own design.

In Times New Roman… is not one of the group’s best albums. In fact, i probably would prefer pretty much any other album in their catalog before this one, but therein lies the thing about this band: it doesn’t have to put out a mindblowing achievement of a record for it to be at least pretty good. Queens’ magic trick here is being consistent; if we were to buffoonishly rank their albums from worst to best, we’d find that the distance that separates the peak from the bottom is not at all Everest tall. That’s a hard trick to pull off.

Another point in favor of this album is its vulnerability. Infamously conceived as catharsis following a rough and tumultuous period in the frontman’s life, it was his interview on Neal Brennan’s The Blocks Podcast that really opened my eyes about this whole thing. In case it wasn’t made clear earlier, i’m a fan of the band, and as such it’s been always obvious to me that the guy’s had a complicated relationship with substances. You’d have to be deaf not to notice that. I’ve watched many interviews over the years, and i’d become accustomed to the certain type of way in which he carried himself. This is why his appearance on Blocks kind of stunned me. Here he was, nonchalantly going into a lot of detail about his drug abuse and how it has affected him and how he clearly sees how it has hurt others and also himself. Now, i don’t know the guy personally, i don’t know how he approaches these sorts of topics with people when the cameras are off, but what i do know is that that’s not the Josh Homme that he himself had constructed for years for the media to consume. The questionable performance seemed to be put to rest. This unceremoniously matured persona was refreshing to listen to: it made me appreciate the record a lot more, because he truly allowed himself to be vulnerable for once (although this feels like the next step in a process that began with 2013’s …Like Clockwork and continued with 2017’s Villains.) I’ll touch upon this a bit later, but that is, at least to me, very brave. The days of the emotionless tough guy are over, but that doesn’t mean that a very healthy dose of anti-establishment aggression has to be left by the wayside.

LIVE AT BUSH HALL

Black Country, New Road

Music isn’t movies. Therefore, it isn’t often that we get to say ‘you need to listen to the album that came before to understand this new one.’ This is the case for Live at Bush Hall.

Now, i would genuinely hate for this to add to the ongoing conversation in which the band’s past keeps taking center stage. I would much rather talk about the present and whatever the current work’s merits are. However, context is needed.

BC,NR quickly rose to indie fame thanks to the painful relatableness of their 2022 sophomore album, Ants from Up There; a beautiful, longing follow-up to their esoteric debut. The song’s lyrics were deeply personal and told what read as fictionalized autobiographical accounts of the band’s frontman’s love life. Shortly after releasing the record, however, he left the band. Paired with these news, the band announced that they’d keep making music without him, but that the old songs would not be played live in the future. This left fans and curious bystanders alike wondering about what they would sound like moving forward, who was going to sing now, how would the new lyrics meld with the pre-established themes of their past work, and so on. I think Live at Bush Hall is in equal parts a beautiful and thoughtful response to all of these propositions, which obviously the band worked towards answering first and foremostly for their own sake.

The fact that the group is a six piece ensemble containing piano, violin and saxophone on top of more conventional guitar music instrumentation notwithstanding, it is my opinion that Live at Bush Hall represents the present of all of rock music. What better way to capture this than with a live album? The idea is multilayered in its ingeniousness, since it wouldn’t be held to the audience’s expectations of what a studio album could bring in this new phase for the group. It’s also a gamble, though, since it’d be nearly fifty minutes of entirely new material played in front of a crowd, and also they’d have to nail the performances for the recording. Luckily, and to the surprise of no one who was already familiar with them, they proved to be excellent musicians who were very much up to the task and the gamble paid off in spades.

The fact that this is a live album also placed constraints on the compositions; these are the now canonized versions of new songs that couldn’t, by design, count on studio trickery or embellishments to stand out. It’s just the musicians, their instruments, and the arrangements. And it sounds amazing.

In a lovingly nodding manner, the opening track sees the band screaming “Look at what we did together / BCNR, friends forever”, in a way that seems to look back, but also look forward. Even more than in their already ambitious Ants From Up There, they take advantage of the instrumentation in very clever ways, adding to the performance and staging aspects of the album. Certain passages feel like they’re out of a play (with songs like The Boy explicitly being divided into chapters,) and it is obvious that this is very much the intended effect once you look at the video recording of the concerts that make up the the album: it was a whole mise-en-scène, purposefully directed, and well rehearsed. The band played three times at Bush Hall, and before each set they handed programmes to the attendees. They then hopped on stage dressed in deliberate costume design following a particular aesthetic. These ‘plays’, and their respective items (except for the setlist), were all different those three times. The movie intercalates takes of all of the three nights, so we get to see the band wearing all of their costumes, all of the sets, and all of the programmes.

This clear love of performance is evident in the songs themselves. Not to spoil the ending, but the album closes with a reprise of the first track (a real exposition-conflict-resolution move on their part,) and pretty much all of its themes are present and brought back, sometimes literally, in many of the songs. Even now distributing singing duties among several of their members, male and female voices alike, drama still emerges; not missing their vocal might after the departure of their lead singer, the band’s lyrics are still painful and their wails still resonant. Some of the performances are so good as to even elicit the sense that what they’re singing about isn’t just some story that somebody’s recounting; they’re happening to you. In performing arts that’s about the highest praise you can give.

PETRODRAGONIC APOCALYPSE; OR, DAWN OF ETERNAL NIGHT: AN ANNIHILATION OF PLANET EARTH AND THE BEGINNING OF MERCILESS DAMNATION

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard

King Gizz have many times before come very close to having what could’ve been my favorite album of the year. It’s ok, though; i’m glad they can occupy that Scottie Pippen spot in my heart.

Petrodragonic Apocalypse; or, Dawn of Eternal Night: An Annihilation of Planet Earth and the Beginning of Merciless Damnation is the band’s second full-fledged metal album, which is a genre that even before Infest the Rats’ Nest (its spiritual prequel) had popped up here and there amongst their numerous tracklists. Just in case you didn’t know already, the long story short is that KG has made a bajillion records and each of them has a unique concept and/or aesthetic. Sometimes some of those concepts reappear, making some of the records share a narrative and be in conversations with one another. 2019’s Infest the Rats’ Nest was the first time the band indulged completely in what was, inevitably at that point, a sound that needed to be explored comprehensively for the span of a whole record, after several songs in their discography having served as teasers of sorts. It proved to be a success (even being nominated for an ARIA Music Award for best metal album of the year, along with other, actual self-identified metal outfits,) pulling inspiration mainly from the thrash metal side of the spectrum and being always as vocal as they always have been in this particular common thread of theirs: we’re fucking up the planet. That's, like, their whole thing.

Petrodragonic Apocalypse feels like an evolution of Rats’ Nest in basically every regard. Its music is heavier, mathier, proggier, more dense, more environmentally minded, lengthier and, frankly, seemingly more difficult to perform. Being this not their first stab at heavier sounds, they complemented the album with one other area of expertise they possess: self-referencing musical passages.

Although their first record came out in 2012, it wasn’t until 2014 (which in retrospect isn’t that much time after) with I’m in your Mind Fuzz where they started to heavily introduce into their work the concept of melodies or refrains reappearing all throughout a single record. Maybe the first track would start out with a particular riff, which would later develop into a different melody for a couple of bars, which we soon would find would be used as the main riff for the following track, etcetera. This concept was then taken to its maximum exponent in 2016’s Nonagon Infinity, a record in which every track flows seamlessly into the next one (with even the last one looping back to the first one,) making it feel like one huge song. This would later culminate, at least narratively, in 2017’s space opera staging Murder of the Universe (that’s my favorite one!) but that way of making music, or albums specifically, seems to have become a habit of theirs, with fans now uploading countless videos on YouTube cross-referencing melodies from different albums to present as some kind of King Gizzard ‘lore’, regardless of what the main concept of each particular album ends up being. Petrodragonic Apocalypse harvests this skill and runs with it, adding some much needed cohesion to the madness. The drumming is insane, the guitar riffs are insane, the whole thing is insane! Yet, it is focused.

DESIRE, I WANT TO TURN INTO YOU

Caroline Polachek

Caroline Polachek made realize something very special: pop music is being vulnerable.

Now, we could dig into that statement with a hundred caveats, but that’d just suck the fun out of it. Here’s what i mean.

For many years i’ve thought of mainstream pop as something that didn’t, or couldn’t, contain me. It was very hard for me to relate to mainstream pop, probably because of its often rigid and spotless production and sound identity. Much of it sounded sterile to me, and i guess i sort of tagged that prejudice onto the entirety of the genre. I wanna be clear, though: i still think that about a lot of it — i just don’t think it’s all the same anymore. This type of change of mind would i’m sure seem inevitable to anyone that has simply sat down and listened to any given genre for long enough; pop music is simply an example in this case. It happens just like that; something unlocks inside your brain, and you get it. Heck, it’s happened to me with many other genres already.

I don’t feel any shame in admitting my teen-like stupidity. If you’re a teenager right now you won’t get this, but you have to be fifteen before you’re twenty-five. Any adult could tell you: it’s not that you have to go through adolescence — you have to live through stupidity. I didn’t say it, nor did i really think about it consciously in these terms, but when i was fifteen i took a certain kind of pride in not listening to pop music. I liked rougher, heavier stuff. That was my ‘whole thing.’ I would years later shift into the perspective that much of what i liked then was, actually, just as shallow, disingenuous, and, musically speaking, thought-murderingly conceived as the stuff i disdained and didn’t choose to listen to. However now i find that my favorite 2022 and 2023 albums have both been pop albums.

At some point i stumbled onto Queens of the Stone Age. Here, i found a band that, for lack of a better term, got it. Their "don't care if it hurts, just so long as it's real" attitude towards music, towards art, and by extension towards being a person in general, helped me. It’s not about the genre — it’s about what you make of it, and how you make it, and about it grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. Years later this same ethos would aid me in making my mother understand that it’s not that she disliked all westerns or musicals, it’s that she didn’t like shitty movies.

The opener to QotSA’s 2002 mainstream rock masterpiece Songs for the Deaf could, potentially (though it hasn’t been scientifically tested, i’m pretty sure,) blow your head right off. Though in it, amidst hellishly screamed vocals, then-bassist Nick Oliveri mellows down his voice just the right amount in order to sing the following sentence:

Metal heavy, soft at the core.

This sentiment, purposefully or not, defines the band. It also crudely puts into words what i crave most about music, and the reason why they’ve been my favorite rock band ever since i listened to them for the first time: aesthetics are nothing if they’re not backed up by true emotion. You can tap into this true emotion by allowing your self to shine through whatever you’re doing, whatever that means to you. Façades are just that: 2D images that say nothing about who’s behind them, and it’s thanks to some real insecurity that you start depending on them, deploying them and taking cover. If you’re a teenager right now you probably won’t get this (or maybe you will and i got real old real fast and grew to misunderstand the youth,) but being yourself is the coolest thing in the universe because it requires of you a certain kind of vulnerability that is, more often than not, really hard to come by. You just have to be brave enough to do it. Motomami shares with Desire, I Want to Turn Into You that same vulnerability. I’m sure that had Sakura not been the closer to that album, it wouldn't have topped my last year’s list.

With Queens of the Stone Age’s refrain serving as my thesis statement, i will now use it to rephrase my opening statement: being yourself is being vulnerable, and being vulnerable is one of the coolest things you can be.

Caroline Polachek knows very well who she is.

During the brilliantly unorthodox set piece premiere performance of her single Dang, Caroline acted out screaming her lungs out at millions of americans watching live on a highly popular late night TV show. This isn’t regular ‘popstar’ stuff — she went and became a popstar at age 34 after already having recorded and released many different albums across many different projects, many of them not being really pop at all. She even dropped an entirely ambient album under the CEP moniker at some point. You might not get it right now, whatever age you are, but that’s fucking cool. I checked out Pang, the predecessor to Desire, I Want to Turn Into You (a sweetly elusive example of a punctuation mark deftly incorporated into an album title) right when it dropped, not really knowing who she was or what her ‘whole thing’ was. I figured she might as well have materialized right out of the pop aether. Well, i was wrong. Caroline has been very carefully crafting her musical presence since 2005, and i am as convinced that Desire represents the peak of her ‘herselfness’ just as i am, now knowing her, that whatever comes after will naturally surpass it in that regard.

Something interesting arises when thinking about her aforementioned premiere of Dang, or for example her NPR Tiny Desk Concert as well: she loves to perform. I can relate to this. There is a clear desire to display her art in striking ways, to set up these intricately rehearsed sequences that etch her everything into your brain with a tingling, instead of just letting the music stand on its own. It very much could, mind you, but by God, does she achieve the full effect. She’s a bespoke, partnerlessly designed whole package.

I could go on about how talented she is, but that’d be stating the obvious since it’s easily noticeable just from listening to any of her stuff. I particularly love how it’s evident in how she uses her voice that she’s not just a singer but also an instrument player (you will get this if you’ve played an instrument for more than a couple of years.) She even does all of the weird vocal stuff from her albums live, with her own vocal cords, instead of using effects or manipulation. That’s also so, so cool. But more than talent, i mainly wanna reflect on how Desire makes me feel. From its album cover (another example of her being on her own lane: the album clearly takes inspiration from early 2000s music, even bringing Dido on board for one of the tracks, yet the cover emphatically does not go with a generic Y2K aesthetic, even at the time of its release, when it seemed to be so in vogue,) it looks like there’s an unquenchable thirst powering her every movement. I interpret this as passion.

The music on the record is great, and i feel it's a step up from Pang. Each song has the right amount of space, and the harmony keeps the listener interested. There is more screaming (yay!) right from the beginning of the first track, Welcome To My Island, and i don’t know how to explain it, but the song itself does kind of sound like an island. I like how, as i alluded to earlier, it seems like the whole of the compositions are informed by her voice being thought of as the main instrument first, and how the songs are constructed around ideas that you could only have come up with after ‘noodling’ on your own vocal chords. The melodies become instantly super gratifying as she picks ear-pulling intervallic relationships to leap to or jump off from, or when she just makes interesting stepwise runs (some passages from the closer, Billions, remind me a bit of Morten Lauridsen’s Dirait-on, though i’m not necessarily inviting anyone to think she must’ve taken inspiration from it.) Her words can go from playful (like in the opener: “Welcome to my island / Hope you like me / You ain’t leaving”) to yearnful (from one of the slower numbers: “Starlight in a tunnel / Kind of familiar / Hopedrunk everasking / How does it feel to know / Your final form?”) But most of all, they are beautiful. Take the chorus of the single Sunset, for example:

No regrets

Cause you’re my sunset

Fiery red

Forever fearless

And in your arms

A warm horizon

Don’t look back

Let’s ride away

The words alone are gorgeous, but when you hear her singing them, it’s… Man, it’s something else. I’m lucky, and grateful, that a record as good and soulful and loving as this one could come along, reach out, and awaken something deep inside of me.

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silentsockfeet · 1 year

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tlou hbo s1 ep3 thoughts (spoilers)

honestly i don’t have much, this episode changed so much from the game that i don’t really have any thoughts to share in terms of their relation

don’t attack me for this but a small part of me is a little disappointed by how much this ep deviated from the game. there were so many iconic moments from bill’s town (the snare trap scene, bill and ellie’s banter, the bloater) that i would’ve loved to see translated to the screen, so a part of me is sad to have missed out on it

that being said, this episode really was beautiful. i’m so glad that of all the couples they could’ve shown, they chose a gay couple to get to grow old and live a life together as happily and peacefully as they could’ve. i knew going in that they were going to expand more on bill and frank’s relationship so my main worry was that they would still have frank turn on bill in some way, so i’m glad that’s not the route they went with. we very rarely get to see older gays in media, and in general practically never get to see them be happy in love, and growing older with each other, so it was beautiful to finally get that sort of story, especially in a show that’s otherwise so dark and grim.

in a weird way, i’m also glad they specifically chose to have bill and frank choose to end their lives rather than have one of them die violently or something. tlou (both the game and the show) doesn’t shy away from the more ugly or taboo parts of humanity so it’s cool to get to explore this kind of decision and why some people might come to it.

it reminds me of the scene in the game where joel and ellie find a dead body in a bathtub with someone clearly having killed themself, and ellie asked why some people would do that, and joel responded “for some people it wasn’t a choice.” in the same sort of sense, there wasn’t really much of a choice for bill and frank either. it was either watch someone you’ve grown old with choose to die (and also be the one to have to kill them, in a way) or choose to go with them and embrace death together. all in all a really beautiful way to bring up that kind of dark and difficult conversation

the strawberry scene is what really got me, what always drew me to tlou was its ability to show the beauty of the simple moments in life, ones that we often overlook. i can’t imagine how emotional i would be getting to taste strawberries again after living ten years in an apocalypse, and bill getting to share that moment with frank was so goddamn sweet

playing vanishing grace during the dinner scene 😭😭 like i said, i think the best moments in tlou are the ones that show how beautiful life can be when we stop and let ourselves experience the smaller, simpler moments, and imo vanishing grace has always been the motif for that. it plays in the giraffe scene in the game, so to play it during the dinner scene was heart wrenching. it really hammered home the point of appreciating the time we get with the world and our loved ones, and also starts setting up the running motif of ‘you keep finding something to fight for’

which brings me to bill’s note, i love that bill wrote it to joel specifically and not tess, they were the two that understood each other the most because they were of similar mindsets. i also liked how much it really highlights the fact that joel did love tess back but just in his own way, and bill knew that more than anyone else could’ve

i’m so excited by the way the note is setting up the relationship between joel and ellie too. right now joel is still on this mission because it’s what tess would’ve wanted but it’s fun to know that bill’s words in the note are going to shift into ellie being the person that joel seeks to protect. i also sort of love the juxtaposition of bill using the verb “protect your loved ones” versus joel saying “fight for your loved ones” by the end of the game, it’s the same concept with different connotations. i like the idea that bill starts off as a fight person but by the end becomes a protect person, and joel is now on roughly the same kind of journey.

one thing i kind of wish we’d seen is a scene were we explicitly see ellie realize the kind of relationship bill and frank had. it would have been nice to see her have that sort of Gay Recognition moment in them, the realization that there were people like her in this world. i think it also would’ve been helpful to set up the themes for pt2 down the line, ellie could have this sort of life to look up to where her and dina could grow old and live a life together.

i also find it really intriguing the subtle changes they’re making to ellie’s character. both the game and tv versions have their moments of innocence but i feel like in the game ellie’s moments centered around her naivety about the world, the fact that she hasn’t really been exposed to certain levels of violence before. meanwhile i feel like in the show her moments are more about not understanding how the world used to be, and she’s much more accepting of violence because that’s what the world she lives in now is founded on. she’s so much more comfortable and even open and intrigued by it now, as shown by that scene with the infected and with how keen she is to get a gun. i still feel like it’s in a bit of an aggrandizing way, like she wants to be the sort of gunfire cowboy type character, and that once the proper reality of violence hits her she’ll reach a sort of breaking point. but it also really helping fill in the gaps of how she becomes who she is in the second game, so i’m glad we’re seeing these moments.

also like. is it just me or are the parallels between bill/frank and ellie/dina kind of strong here? there’s the garden, the little homestead all on their own land, the fact that frank takes up painting, the serenading your lover scene,, it feels so stark to me. and ellie has always had slight parallels to bill (and by extension joel), she has the same sort of mindset of “i’d rather isolate than have to face losing the people i love” and dina has the more brighter outlook of life that frank has, the idea that by surrounding ourselves with people we love we become our best, strongest self. and don’t even get me started on the final shot with the window,, looking at joel and ellie leaving through the window was so reminiscent of the final shot in pt2 i can’t even put into words what exactly it means to me

in summary: sad to be missing some scenes from the game but the changes they made are so beautiful i really can’t be mad. glad we got to see a happy ending for bill and frank and i’m excited for all the ways they’re setting up the next steps

#tlou hbo #tlou spoilers #the last of us #my posts #tlou hbo notes #tlou 1x03

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wolfnanaki · 1 year

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Nanaki's Late Night Thoughts (2/11/2023)

Ramblings of a trans wolf girl late at night.

When it’s coming to an end, Then why hold back? Why save it for yourself When you have so much to tell?

What is it going to take for me to do the things I actually want to do in my life? I have this weird habit of trying to make everything “just right” before I do anything, and yet it never happens. I have so many story ideas floating around in my head, playing out in my thoughts like an endless movie, and yet I can’t bring these stories to the one format I’m good at producing. I’ll have all these ideas, go home, sit in front of my computer with Word open, and then do nothing. More cycling through YouTube, talking to friends on Discord, browsing Twitter, burning through my finite time in this world instead of following my dreams.

Mom keeps pushing me into getting a Human Resources position because she believes my experience and skills are perfect for the job. She even went as far as to enroll me in a HR certification course, which I succeeded at and got my certificate. But still, I don’t feel like it’s the right job for me, I can’t see myself doing it as a career in five, ten years. I promised myself as a kid I wouldn’t allow myself to waste away at a dull office desk job, that my life would have some fucking MEANING, that I’d reach for the stars and follow my dreams.

I’m enslaved by impulses. Even now as I type this, I had to stop myself from reaching for my phone to play a mobile game. I have to look away from Twitter and other social media platforms that hit my brain in just the right ways that ensure I’m always on them. Looking at and sharing other people’s thoughts is a hell of a lot easier than sharing your own. And there’s always a hot new topic for you to dabble in, just peeking out from the “Trending” tab on the side. Want to see how many people you thought you could trust and respect still follow J.K. Rowling? Want to watch another manmade horror happen live? Want to get swallowed up in stupid debates with loser bitches whose primary goal is to make you upset and haven’t evolved their worldview since they hit puberty? Welcome to Twitter, stay a while and suffer. I’m almost glad Elon Musk is burning it to the ground, though I wonder where all the worst people in the world will go once their stomping grounds are gone.

It’s too late now anyway, So when you feel you have something to say, Why save it for yourself? Don't let those you love get away.

A few minutes before I started writing this, when I went downstairs to make myself a sandwich, I felt my foot bump into something on the floor in the darkness. It was my dog’s chew toy. It’s always in our walking path at night for some reason, and I always move it out of the way because I worry that one day, mom isn’t going to see it and will trip over it. When I started toasting my bread, the toaster started smoking, and I turned it off to look inside. My older brother has a habit of toasting a sandwich for himself every night, and he uses the toaster to reheat leftover pizza too. Whichever the case may be, there’s now a hardened black blob of cheese at the bottom part of the toaster that’s supposed to cook the food. I hope he recognizes his mistake and fixes it, otherwise I’ll have to do it for him.

Ever since I lost my job, I’ve noticed little things like that around the house, but especially in the kitchen. No matter how much you sweep, no matter how many hours you devote to cleaning the place, there’s always something dirty to it. You always feel crumbs under your toes. It makes the whole process feel pointless. I don’t get why mom puts so much effort into cleaning it when it’s always dirty anyway. Maybe one day it can be clean for real, probably the day we move out and spruce this place up.

Mom wants to move up to Jacksonville – or at least near it – since my youngest brother and his girlfriend just moved there. I’m surprised at the trajectory of my brother’s life. He traveled the world, taught English in China, started online businesses for selling tat and books, started dating a girl, and now they’ve moved in together. His girlfriend has a daughter who happily calls my brother her dad. He's 28. I’m 32 and I haven’t even been on a date. But it’s hard to compare myself with him in that way; he’s always been comfortable with who he is and how he presents himself, whereas I’m a trans woman trying to find her body, her comfort and her happiness. I don’t think I can truly open up with a romantic partner if I don’t know for sure how they’ll take me being trans, especially considering the way I look right now. I can’t “pass” the way I am, I haven’t done much vocal training, and I live in an anti-trans state. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep trying to live as my most authentic self.

Authenticity – my job, my gender identity, my dreams, my personality. It’s all exhausting but it’s a journey I must face head-on. If I don’t define myself for myself, it’ll be other people who define me for me. And I’ve given years of my life to other people who didn’t have my best interests at heart, who used and discarded me. That’s not who I want to be. Maybe that’s why I’m so hesitant to settle into a Human Resources career. I don’t want to live a life as another person’s lackey. And I don’t dream of labor. I just want to write my stories and life as my true self for the world to see.

And this time there won’t be another day, And now I know This is the only way. And when we go...

Back in December, I listened to a song. It’s called “Constellations,” performed by Dabu and sung by Brigitte Naggar, composed for the soundtrack for an upcoming indie game called Goodbye Volcano High. The game’s story is about anthropomorphic dinosaur teenagers in their senior year of high school having their lives being interrupted with the revelation that a comet is on its way to strike the planet and wipe out the dinosaurs. The player character is a nonbinary pterodactyl named Fang, who must figure out what they’re going to do with their remaining time. The game is billed as “the end of an era and the beginning of a love story.”

The song “Constellations” hit hard for me; its lyrics encapsulated so many of my feelings, trans and otherwise. It’s a beautiful and heartfelt song, but when I listened to it in full for the first time in full that cold night, I couldn’t handle all those feelings at once. I was overwhelmed. I was a sobbing mess for ten minutes. It hurt, but it was also cathartic in a way. I shared those feelings that night in posts, not for attention or anything, but because I desperately needed to share them in case they reach the eyes for someone else going through what I’m going through, and maybe it’ll help them knowing they’re not alone, that someone else has felt their feelings and is healing.

It was that night, influenced by the song’s lyrics, that I came up with a personal motto, one I have now posted on as many platforms that allows for it:

“When the world is ruled by hate, rebel with love.”

So many of our online interactions are defined by hate, outrage, disgust, contempt. No platform is truly safe from that influence because when we feel those feelings, they’re incredibly strong and we NEED to vent them. We spend our time arguing with each other over the most petty things, leave feeling miserable, and then prep ourselves for when we’ll do it all over again. And frankly, I realized that night that I don’t want to fall into that trap anymore. I want to live a life celebrating good, influenced by love and compassion. Because love is so much stronger than hate. Love yourself enough and you can overcome anything. Love strong enough and you can change the world. And when so much of our daily lives are defined by hate, showing true, honest love becomes a form of rebellion.

Right now, I have many parts of myself that paint me as a target for hate. I’m Jewish when antisemitism is on the rise, I’m a transgender woman when anti-trans bills are being passed across the USA, and being a furry, I’m part of a big, openly queer space that’s now also under attack by the political right. I am surrounded by hate, and if I’m not careful, hate will be my end. But that’s even more reason to love. I don’t plan on being a martyr or anything, but I let the hate and fear of other people control my life, then just like when I’m boymoding, I’m not living as my true self.

I’m a trans woman, I’m proud, I’m full of love, and I want to make the world a better place. Whatever dreams or achievements I accomplish before I’m gone, that’s one legacy I want to leave behind. And I hope my words reach people who need them, who find comfort in them, and who come to choose to live a life of compassion and love. We only get so much time in this world, let’s make it worthwhile.

You can see it in the constellations. It spells our legacy above. There was love, there will always be love.

#Nanaki's Thoughts

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talenlee · 1 year

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January Wrapup, 2023!

It’s not the end of the month just yet. I’m looking down the barrel of the end of the month, and seeing what’s coming in the last week or so, and phew. I better write this month’s wrapup now because at some point I’m going to be helping someone move house and that’s not fun at the best of times.

Let’s check out first of all, what I wrote this month about games in the Game Pile:

Keep The Heroes Out: This was a really fun cooperative board game that I enjoyed playing a lot. What’s more, playing it, I kept thinking about the way that the game used its particular structure of iconography and a rulebook to displace the game systems away from a lot of reading. It’s beautiful, it’s indulgent, there’s not a lot of time waste in the box on something that isn’t adding something cool to the game.

Speedrunning the Swindle: I wanted to make something that suited the theme of GDQ that was running at the time, and I decided to make a video about finally getting off my butt and making a speedrun archive page for The Swindle. As of right now? I’m still the world leader at The Swindle which means, odds are good, you can probably get the record off me.

Crystal Caves: There’s always space for something small and weird from gaming’s history, and it seems that if you ask me about the old games from the Apogee shareware catalogue, you’ll find me eventually bringing it back to assumptions about the world and what working class people look like. What’s acceptable? What’s normal? Turns out: working for huge piles of money and still always needing to do more work!

A 2023 Channel Trailer: With the dissolution of twitter’s importance in my life, I decided I wanted to redo my channel trailer. This meant using most of the existing audio, but redoing it to both refine it down to exactly 2 minutes long, and using it to present my new animated avatar. I got to do a lot of improvement from this video, like how to make it lip-sync to audio without needing to prop a microphone into my headphones!

And this month’s posting in the Story Pile:

Goncharov: I wrote an explainer on the giant consensual play experience of funning around with the gimmick fake movie, Goncharov from November 2022, and the strangely condescending way everyone who wasn’t enjoying it thought it should have been done.

The Rendezvous: There are a lot of pieces of media that relate to speedrunning of sorts, you know, almost anything built about a race, documentaries about speedrunning, all that good stuff. But I love finding ways to connect older things to current things, and this is one of my dad’s favourite movies that happens to be an IRL speedrun that just happens to have also been really illegal.

Megatokyo: This article is over four thousand words long. Read aloud, it’s over forty minutes. Do you want me to make a video version of this?

Children of Time: I loved this book about cat-sized spider culture! I don’t talk much about books I read (because a lot of the books I read are more academic than fictional) but this was a really cracking one that I read last year and actually kept putting off because I wanted to write about it when it would be fun to do so.

My Hero Academia, Season 1: Oh hey, you know those huge sprawling TV series that are hard to examine as a single, big chunk? I’ve decided to try breaking them up into separate articles so I can examine them in terms of the kinds of time commitment they ask of you!

This is a month for maintenance. I’m trying this year to do more with each post; fewer posts that are really brief and don’t feature a solid amount of words and images. Generally, a thousand words, or five minutes of audio, or an image made for the post (as is the exchange rate for words, I understand). I’m trying to make it so I don’t pad things out much, and use each potential space to say some stuff to do so – like the ‘welcome to 2023 post‘ this year was also a consideration of what it means to blog for ten years and why I started.

There are articles I hold off on writing until I can dedicate time to being sure I’m happy with them, comfortable with how they read and I can run them past people, spoken aloud — and for me, this month, the example is the article about ‘Losing’ Bridget. This grew out of considering the challenges of two different axes I know can feel really rough: Being a wrong kind of fan and being a guy in a space where it feels like people are celebrating something you didn’t think was hurting anyone. I thought this was a worthy topic to think about and talk about, and to try and serve as a guy, as a positive example to other guys about how to relate to this challenging space without hurting other people out of defiance or thoughtlessness.

If you like me talking about my D&D setting, and why I made the choices I did, I wound up telling the story of the founding of a goblin city and how it put the King’s Highway through the nation of Dal Raeda. This year I’m doing a big project with my Magic: The Gathering custom cards, creating a whole set with flavour and worldbuilding. It’s called the Usurper’s Palace and I wrote about it in a little more detail, and you can follow it now throughout the year. I wrote a bit about Josh Lyman (first time being here), the character from the West Wing, and one of the many instances in which he was a shitty dude who sucks. It’s pretty important since Josh Lyman is a fictional character who was able to will himself into an embarrassing real existence. Finally, during GDQ I wrote about The Grasshopper, a book I like a lot because I find its definition of games and how we play them interesting, and how that book relates to the idea of a speedrun.

This month’s shirt is a simple text-on-field kind of design about what it’s like to exist in my head at the right time and place, where the phrase I’m fine, and you? is something resting atop and keeping you safe from an extremely extensive kind of haranguing that wants to talk about specific, intriguing media events that excite and frustrate me. You can get it in white text and black text!

This month featured a return to PhD meetings, my niblings going on an international trip, one of my best friends being away from home, GDQ, Fox getting a vaccine booster and reacting to it poorly in the pharmacy, the build-up for Cancon, then the actual running of Cancon, Australia day, and a housemove. This is a month where two absolute bastard Catholics dropped dead, I fucked up pretty badly and then I spent weeks trying to unfuck the upfuck.

I am writing this a week out and I feel good about what I’m trying to do, but I’m also just feeling that constant low-key jostling watery stomach feeling. I find myself talking to the air around me like here’s why I made the mistake I did, which isn’t helpful and doesn’t do anything beyond get me dwelling on the mistake again, and that makes me feel stupid, and that’s not a good place. I try to respond to this feeling when I notice myself doing it by just getting to work on the thing I fucked up and trying to address it.

Right now I am looking at it in another tab and I want to make sure I don’t fuck it up while trying to unfuck it.

Also, funny thing? I was really interested in working on board games while I was at Cancon, but I didn’t have the time. Everything was way too bloody busy for me to sit down and spend time talking with people about game designs! And that’s normally a time when I have heaps of time to look at games, look at game designs and things in the library and ask myself ‘how would I approach that? How would I implement that?’

No chance.

I’m shocked at how busy this month has been but god damnit I am going to get this done.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Diary

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dloya74 · 2 years

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My Media Use

Social media has been a huge part of my life, but I have a sense it also is huge in other peoples lives as well. I use many different social media platforms throughout my day such as Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat. Truthfully, I have never thought about how I feel using these platforms or even why I was using them but after taking time to think about these questions, I finally have found the answers for which I was searching.

I had first started using Twitter when I was a freshman in high school, at first, I was confused on how to use Twitter due to certain settings and the messages that were being brought to my attention on the app. I ended up deleting the app until I was a junior in high school, I had re downloaded it because I began seeing more of my friends using it, so I had decided to see what the hype was about. After getting to understand the app better, I truly began enjoying it, I was getting the latest sports information, political views, comedic skits, and even messages from different collegiate coaches across the United States. I would feel joy, sadness, empathy, and excitement all from what I would see on my page. I concluded that I love Twitter and all the distinct types of emotions that I would feel daily.

Instagram however is a different story. I had first started using the app when I was in middle school, eighth grade to be specific. Just like Twitter, I began using it because all my friends did and for the first few years using it, I enjoyed it. Then as the app began growing and growing, I started to see things change from not only the app but also people using it. My friends began putting on a different persona for the internet, I began seeing more hateful comments underneath posts, I saw more people bashing each other than encouraging others. Finally, I had enough, going into my freshman year of college I had deleted the app. Instagram had made me feel hateful, resentful, lost, no purpose because no matter what I did, I would always be criticized. It was only about five months ago to redownload the app, why you might ask? I am getting older and want to work somewhere in the marketing field, with more social media platforms I would be able to show future employers’ different type of styles a internet profile could have. It is my least used app; however, I tend not to use it as much because I still see people putting on fronts of who they are and what they do. It makes me feel sadness because I feel no one should have to hide their true selves from friends and family.

With Snapchat, it is different from other social media apps. With Snapchat there really is not much you can hide from your peers. Just like Instagram I have been using snapchat since the eighth grade, however I have never once deleted this app. I genuinely enjoy it, at first, I started using it because everyone else was but now I like it because I can keep up with friends that have moved to various parts of the world and still be able to communicate with them as if there right in front of me. I love Snapchat and although I am getting older, I have the sense that it will still be extremely popular five to ten years from now.

In conclusion, I have found that social media has always had an impact on my life but not because I wanted to use these platforms but because my friends and family were using them, and I always wanted to relate with them in some form. I have been able to find joy and happiness amongst these apps but also anger and sadness. I find that most social media platforms in today's day an age is starting to play on people’s emotions and finally try to connect one another rather than separate.

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studiojeon · 3 years

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use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | - Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee).

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed.

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish. “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes.

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better.

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you.

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face.

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly.

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips.

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way.

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were.

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion.

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on?

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week.

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker.

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way."

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while.

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either.

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out.

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside.

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you.

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know".

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right.

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?"

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though.

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t.

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years

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that makes four.

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PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

The Singer – Part Four

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 2,483

Warning: Smut, Semi Public Sex

***The Interview***

It’s been three weeks since Kurt’s stunt and things between you and Cillian couldn’t have been better. Whilst you struggled with comments from the press and the public initially, calling you a home wrecker and making an issue out of the age gap between you, it brought you and Cillian closer together and he even defended your relationship in a recent interview.

Whilst you still hadn’t talked about what you were and where you were at, it was clear to you that you were officially dating. But no one really took you seriously. You were seen as Cillian’s midlife crisis.

Cillian cared very little about the press, ignoring the bad rumours and assuring you that none of this mattered.

He was right. It didn’t matter. People were still buying your new album which, under contract, was unfortunately being produced by Kurt. Under the same contract, you were also obliged to engage in interviews and promotional events.

Whilst you were very eager to simply break your contract, Cillian reasoned with you. He was sensible and you were impulsive.

He assured you that breaking the contract would simply mean more bad press and you engaged Cillian’s agent to help you with media engagements. He seemed to take a sensible approach and asked interviewers to not ask you any personal questions.

But this didn’t always work out, especially when you had an interview scheduled with a London based program whose interviewer just loved to get under your skin.

This interviewer managed to ask you about your alleged affair by referring to some lyrics of one of your songs.

‘Look, my private life is private and I will not discuss my relationship on this show. But what I can assure you is that there was no affair. We both had separated from our partners when we got involved with each other. The song you are referring to was written over a year ago and doesn’t reflect any of my personal experiences. It was written for a movie and just like the movie, it’s fictional’ you explained in response of the interviewer’s intrusive question.

‘There are many other songs you’ve written which come to mind indicating that you do in fact prefer to be with men who are older than you. These songs were all well received but your relationship is not. How do you feel about this?’ the interviewer than asked, not giving up.

‘Again, the songs are fictional, but my private life is not. That might be the issue. It’s all good if it’s fictional but as soon as it’s not, people get curious. Perhaps there is a lack of understanding surrounding relationships that aren’t the norm. Maybe people’s perceptions will change over time. I certainly hope so. After all, there are so many relationships in the history of the world where people have large age gaps and I believe that every adult has the right to date whoever they want without being criticised about it’ you explained before taking a short pause. ‘Anyway, I would prefer if we could chat about my music now rather than my private life. That’s why I am here’ you said bluntly.

The interviewer finally backed off after your request and your agent had already called in, putting the producers of the show into their place.

Cillian had also listened to the interview and texted you, making sure that you were alright and telling you that he thought that your response was well placed.

Kurt, on the other hand, was once again annoyed with you and sent you a rude text message shortly after the interview and he couldn’t help but try to get under your and Cillian’s skin.

***The Function***

Later that day, the studio was hosting a release party to celebrate your new album which Kurt had organised at the theatre complex function rooms.

It was a beautiful venue but you knew that Kurt would be attending which could end up being a complete nightmare.

This was also the first official event which you were attending together with Cillian and you raised the question whether this meant that you are his girlfriend now.

‘I suppose….I don’t know…do you want me to be your boyfriend?’ Cillian chuckled as he buttoned up his shirt.

‘I would love you to be my boyfriend’ you giggled before giving him a kiss and asking him to zip up your dress.

‘Well, I suppose I am officially off the market again then’ Cillian chuckled before returning the kiss, which was also when you heard the taxi pull up in front of his house.

Your agent has taken the liberty to invite several producers to the party, much to the dislike of Kurt. Kurt was even more irritated when you finally arrived, together with Cillian who was holding your hand.

‘Y/N…Cillian’ Kurt said greeting you both, wanting to shake Cillian’s hand but all he got in return was Cillian raising his eyebrow.

‘Kurt’ you responded with an almost evil grin on your face and just before Kurt leaned in and kissed you on the cheek.

You didn’t stay to talk to him and it wasn’t long until you were inundated by other producers, wanting to talk to you.

‘I told you, she can be a real slut’ Kurt said to Cillian as Cillian gave you some space to mingle, unbothered by the attention you were receiving by several of the producers your agent had invited.

‘And you wonder why she left you?’ Cillian chuckled, thinking that Kurt is an absolute douche.

‘You know she sucked my cock just before I signed her’ Kurt said with a smug face and it was obvious to Cillian that he had been taking some coke again.

‘Nice talk’ Cillian laughed before walking away, getting himself a drink and talking to some of the other artists.

After about thirty minutes you sought out Cillian who was standing next to the buffet talking to two female artists and you decided to give him the same space he had given you. Jealousy wasn’t your thing and you knew there was no need for it.

Eventually, however, you received a text message from him which said nothing but ‘HELP’, making you giggle. He obviously didn’t enjoy himself talking to these women and was being polite, hanging out with them and engaging into some small talk.

Just as you were going to get Cillian away, Kurt approached you.

‘Found a new producer yet?’ he asked and you responded with a quick ‘maybe’.

‘You won’t get the same sweet deal you had with me Love…’ Kurt went on to say, causing you to laugh.

‘You remember that night in the record studio together?’ he asked sheepishly.

‘Yes, I do. You lasted a total of ten minutes which was quite something Kurt’ you chuckled.

‘And I bet these were the best ten minutes of your life’ Kurt said just as Cillian approached you, listening into the conversation and taking in a deep breath.

‘Would you please give us a minute’ Cillian asked somewhat angrily.

‘I will…because my date is here’ Kurt said sheepishly.

‘What, did you hire an escort?’ Cillian asked, looking over to the woman Kurt pointed at.

‘She’s a model’ Kurt explained, not realising that Cillian was being sarcastic.

‘Of course she is’ Cillian chuckled before saying bye to him and this is when you broke out laughing.

‘He’s got the IQ of an ape’ Cillian huffed as Kurt walked away, shaking his head in disbelieve.

‘You are being so polite sweetheart’ you giggled.

‘I am sorry, but he just makes me fucking angry. You know what he said earlier?’ Cillian said but, before he could tell you, you crashed his lips onto yours.

‘Are you angry?’ you asked as your lips drifted apart.

‘At Kurt? Yes’ Cillian said.

‘Good. Come with me’ you winked as you pulled him away from the function.

Without questions, Cillian followed you upstairs where the offices of the producers were located.

‘I saw you talking to these women earlier…tell me about them’ you said as you led Cillian towards the back of the office area.

‘Sorry Y/N, I don’t know much about them, they just…’ Cillian said but, before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him with a passionate kiss in front of the door leading to Kurt’s office.

‘Don’t apologise, just tell me. I think there is nothing more sexy than seeing other women want what I have’ you smirked, your hand moving to his crotch.

‘Seriously?’ Cillian asked, causing you to nod and bite your lips suggestively.

‘Well, unlike you, I don’t like seeing other men want what is mine now, especially not this smug bastard’ Cillian said before pressing his lips back onto yours for an urgent kiss.

‘Please tell me this makes you angry’ you giggled as you pulled a white card out of your handbag.

‘Of course it makes me angry and, if I wouldn’t be so fucking complacent, I would punch him’ Cillian chuckled just as he watched you swipe the card through the black machine on Kurt’s office door before putting in the PIN on the security keyboard.

‘I’ve got a better idea’ you smirked as you pulled Cillian into Kurt’s office.

‘What are you doing?’ Cillian asked and all you did in response was looking over to Kurt’s study desk.

Cillian’s eyes lid up and, before you knew it, you felt your lower back pushed against the desk while Cillian lifted up your dress and pushed aside your panties.

‘You are so wet’ Cillian growled with excitement as, without warning, he pushed two of his fingers deep inside you, causing you to moan loudly. He was so aroused and rock hard, ready to take you, but he wanted to play with you first.

‘You do this to me Cillian’ you moaned, throwing your head back and taking in the sensation of his fingers deep inside your tight entrance.

Cillian continued to slide his fingers back and forth within your wet folds, hearing you moan and gasp at the sensation. He then slipped his middle finger inside you. You cried in pleasure. He loved pleasing you like this and started to thrust his fingers inside you faster and faster, watching your body pulsate with his movements.

He hit your g-spot over and over again and you knew what this meant. He was doing this on purpose, making sure to mark what is his and, in the process of it, possibly also mark the carpet in Kurt’s office if he kept going like this.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you cried, your eyes closed as he was manoeuvring his fingers tilted up to get the pleasure spot over and over again until your legs began to shake.

‘You like that?’ Cillian asked softly as he continued thrusting his finger into you and you barely managed to nod.

You fluttered your eyes open and looked at him as he confidently smiled at you. His unabashed confidence was turning you on even more. He knew that no one else ever made you cum like this.

As he continued to finger you, sending waves of pleasure over your body, you could feel yourself getting close to your orgasm and just as you were about to scream in pleasure, Cillian pushed his other hand over your mouth firmly as you came over his fingers, a wet puddle immediately forming on the office floor.

While your head was still spinning and without allowing you to come down from your high, Cillian spun you around and pushed you down against the cold oak table.

He certainly was angry and you loved every moment of it.

With one swift movement, he lifted up your dress again and pushed down your panties.

‘Spread your legs’ he instructed and you obliged, hearing his belt unbuckle and the zipper of his jeans opening.

‘That’s good’ he said as he was positioning his cock directly at your entrance, ready to push in.

Your heart started pounding with excitement and with one hard and powerful thrust and one loud groan Cillian buried himself deep inside you.

You shrieked at the sensation as he immediately and forcefully bottomed out inside of you. It took your breath away and he gave you no chance to adjust as he began to thrust in and out of you.

‘You are all mine’ Cillian moaned as he hit your cervix with the tip of his cock for what felt like the hundred’s time.

‘I am yours Cillian, oh god yes, fuck me hard’ you moaned.

Cillian grunted with each thrust, getting more aroused by the second as he was taking you over Kurt’s desk.

Each thrust was igniting a fire in you. It felt so good and you cried at the inexplicable pleasure consuming you, calling Cillian’s name multiple times.

Cillian was grabbing your thighs, prying them apart, and opening you up to him even more. He thrusted deeper and harder into you in this position.

You cried, your nails digging into the wood of Kurt’s desk while your pussy clapped against Cillian with each thrust.

‘I am coming Cillian, fuck’ you moaned and just, like that, another loud moan escaped you and your orgasm washed over you, your legs quivering and shaking as a result.

Cillian exhaled and groaned loudly, leaning in and filling you with his warm cum at the same time. You felt yourself fill up with his seed, exhaling at the sensation. He stayed inside you for a minute, then slowly pulled out. He watched his cum flow out of your opening ecstatically, running down your thighs.

You then turned around and grabbed one of the tissues from Kurt’s desk, wiping your legs clean before throwing the tissue into the bin.

His desk was covered with some of your sweat and juiced and Cillian looked at your flushed, glistening, beautiful face as you were still panting and kissed you softly on the lips.

‘Should we clean this up?’ Cillian chuckled as he closed up his belt.

‘Oh god no’ you smirked before collecting a good amount of Cillian’s cum that had pooled inside you and then licking your finger suggestively before pulling your panties back up.

‘Let’s get back to the party and say goodbye, shall we?’ you giggled.

Cillian followed you and the first person you chose to say goodbye to was Kurt, which surprised Cillian.

Giving Kurt a big kiss on his cheek, you wished him a pleasant evening and Cillian’s chin dropped immediately.

He couldn’t help it but laugh, shake Kurt’s hand, with the same hand that had pleasured you just minutes earlier, and wish him a pleasant night also.

‘You are so fucking bad, you know that?’ Cillian laughed later in the taxi on your way home.

‘He deserved it’ you giggled.

Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey janelongxox @uchihacumdump

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine

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softomi · 3 years

Text

crossing the threshold

prompt: our love is spread across years, even if for the majority was not spent together; I’ll make up for it forever

pairing: atsumu x reader

word count: 5.3k

general taglist: @graykageyama @tsume @thesorebae @micasaessakusa @alouphen

When Atsumu was sixteen, he met you. A little ten-year-old with cute chubby cheeks, it was during a time when he envied Suna for having a little sister. You had mistaken him for Osamu from behind and while thoroughly offended, he couldn’t dare to raise his voice to a young girl. Atsumu merely patted your head, he bent to your eye level and introduced himself sweetly.

“But you can call me Tsumu. Just remember.” Atsumu stood straight, striking a pose, “I’m the better looking twin okay?”

Innocently, you nodded, “Okay.”

You were absolutely starstruck by him from that point on. If you had to pick your first love, Miya Atsumu is the face that comes to your mind. Contrary to the childish antics that he may give off to his friends and onlookers, he was absolutely sweet to you.

He’d buy you ice cream, random trinkets, and even picked you up from school once when Rintarou got detention for sleeping in class. Atsumu was like a second older brother you wished Rintarou would be sometimes. Granted, you love your brother, but sometimes he lacked the certain caring aspect that Atsumu seemed to always give you.

“Do you like me better or your brother better?” Atsumu watched your childlike eyes light up.

The popsicle in your hand was melting and your legs swayed on the seat, the ringing of the convenience store’s door echoed into the air. You grinned, “Tsumu!” Your head falls forward into your popsicle, the hand that’s smacked the back of your head connected to your brother, “Rin! You’re so mean!”

“What did I tell you.” Rintarou looks down on you, “Don’t associate yourself with Atsumu. He’s a bad man.”

Atsumu grumbles, standing to his feet to point his popsicle at your brother, “Don’t brain wash her like that! Everyone knows I’m the better twin!” He screams into the night and you laugh.

At twelve years old, you’ve made a mental note in your head that one day you were going to marry Miya Atsumu. It was fate, you two were just meant to end up together; but at twelve years old, you experienced your first heart break. Miya Atsumu was eighteen and had a beautiful girl attached to his arm.

Unknowingly, you followed him when you saw him randomly on the street. When you entered the cafe, your heart broke upon seeing him embrace the pretty girl. He hadn’t even noticed you until he properly sat down next to her. His arm draped around her shoulder as he used his other hand to wave to you. As a heartbroken twelve-year-old, you ran out of the café shop.

“Do you know her?”

Atsumu’s arm falls slowly, “Yeah, she’s my friend’s sister. Not sure why she ran out like that. She absolutely adores me.”

All the way home, you ran, not even noticing that you had sprinted past your brother and Osamu. For the weekend you locked yourself in your room trying to quell the sadness of your heart. Atsumu was no longer the man you knew, he was no longer sweet or nice, he was a monster.

You stuck your tongue out at him, “Osamu is the better-looking twin. I want to take a picture with Osamu only!”

Osamu laughs, your hands wrapped around Osamu’s arm as you pull him to take a picture. Graduation day called for families to flood the school and once the ceremony ended, pictures were being taken by everyone. Your parents made you take over fifty pictures with your brother before the twins joined. Atsumu suggested a picture with his favorite little girl and you barked at him.

“You’ll take a picture with me right Samu?” You were practically hugging his arm, Atsumu glaring from behind the parents with cameras.

“Okay! My turn!” Atsumu squeezed through.

“No!” You clung to the grey-haired twin.

After much ruckus, it was concluded that you’d take a picture with all of the boys. Osamu to your right, Atsumu to your left and your brother standing tall behind you. While you leaned closer towards Osamu, your face was bright red, oddly aware of Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder as he poses with a smile.

Your mother hung the picture in the hallway. It stared at you for four years, you hadn’t seen him since he graduated.

Atsumu ran into you at his brother’s restaurant. His brother chatted with a young woman, the familiarity of the figure making him curious when he entered. In fact, when you finally turned to look at him, he almost choked on his own tongue.

“Look at you!” His hand falls on your head, “You’re so big now.”

You swat his hand away, “Don’t touch me, you’re going to ruin my hair.”

Atsumu laughs, pulling into the seat next to you, “How old are you now? Fourteen?”

“Sixteen!” You grit your teeth, “I see you still have the uglier hair.”

Atsumu leans his head back, “You’re still so mean!” He feigns a tear shed, “I remember when you used to adore me so much.”

“That was when you brain washed me.” You stuck your tongue out to him.

Atsumu stares, the amazed grin was glued to his face. It makes your cheeks tint and your heart picks up in pace, “So what are you doing here? Are you visiting me?!” Atsumu wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into an awkward hug, “Did you miss me?!”

Atsumu retracts his hands when someone smacks him from behind. You pull away with a deep hue on your cheeks, brushing your hand through your hair to refix the position. Rintarou stands behind Atsumu, effectively continuing to smack the man another time just for the fun of it.

“Bye Samu!” You’re waving to the male, turning to look at Atsumu briefly with a scowl, “Bye loser.”

Atsumu found you still adorable, attempting to pinch your cheeks and pulling away quickly when you try to bite him. Compared to when he had first met you, small and tiny in the kitchen of your home, now you were taller, hair grown out, and the school uniform fitted on you nicely. Even as you were leaving, Atsumu couldn’t help but turn and stare.

“Ow.” Atsumu rubs the back of his head, Osamu glaring down at him, “What.”

“She’s sixteen, you pervert.”

Atsumu groans, “I wasn’t thinking anything, you’re the pervert for even about thinking it.”

Another four years pass like that, at twenty for you, Atsumu is twenty-six. He finds it hard to believe that you were indeed you. The occasional social media post he saw of you from your brother’s feed definitely didn’t do you justice.

“Are you still as snarky?” Atsumu sits across from you.

The feel of the restaurant was one that he found oddly romantic, chandelier lights in a private room, he had specifically chosen a private area to not draw attention from fans. A table separated the two of you, the waitress hadn’t returned since bringing out the food, and there was the faint sound of classical music playing from the speakers above.

“I don’t know.” You slowly twirl the wine glass, not offering a glance to him, “Do you still have the ugly blonde hair.” You lift your eyes from the wine, a small grin on your lips, “Oh yeah, looks like you do. At least you learned what toner is.”

“Hey, be nice. I’m the one graciously paying for this meal.”

“You’re the one who begged me to come here and I was so close to getting treated to a meal by Kiyoomi.”

It hadn’t been long since you moved to the same city; ever since you visited his practice once with your brother, you had been contacting him non-stop to be invited to his practices and while your eyes were set on his teammate, he practically cock-blocked any chance he could get.

“You know he’s a clean freak.” Atsumu pokes at his food, “Omi doesn’t even accept gifts from his fans.”

Your eyes sparkled, a cheery grin on your lips, “That’s why he’s so perfect, so caring about his own health.” Atsumu frowned. You pulled out your phone, a giggle on your lips as you showcase your lock screen, “The last time I visited, he took a picture with me! Isn’t he so cute!”

Atsumu snatched your cell phone, causing a distressed sound to emit from your mouth, “Why would you put that as your background! What about the picture we took together?”

You grip your phone back, a sharp glare at him, “I like Omi!”

“My stats are better than his.” He randomly throws out into the air, but the way you stare at your phone has him irked, “You listening to me?”

You hum, “So what if your stats are better. Omi definitely has the better looks; do you think you could give me his number?”

Atsumu groans loudly, the knife in his hand nearly cracking the plate. His fork stabs the steak, before your mouth can spew any more about Kiyoomi, he’s shoving food into your mouth.

“Can you just eat now.” He grumbles.

Your hand covers your lips, slowly chewing the meat with a grin, “Sorry.”

Atsumu and you met more often than you had ever intended. There were many nights where he picked you up from work, many conversations over text, many times he would come over to your apartment to just hang out. He’d take over your couch, body sprawled out as he flipped through the television. You’d force him to stop at a volleyball match, opting to watch your brother play over any television series Atsumu could find.

It was quiet, the commentary from the game being the only sound of your apartment. You sat on the ground, back pressed against your couch, a bowl of popcorn sitting in your lap which you ate as though you were watching an action-packed movie. Atsumu laid on his side, an arm draped over your shoulder, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

His arm suddenly shifted and with a swift second, he withdrew. The sudden action caused you to jolt, looking over your shoulder at him questioningly. His face suddenly hit with a blush.

“What?”

Atsumu coughs, “it’s nothing.” Your eyes turn back to the screen but his mind races. Recalling the moment in which his hand accidentally brushed against your chest, while the fabric of your t-shirt concealed what was underneath, he knew well what it felt like when a woman lacked an undergarment.

He stared at his hand, his face growing redder the more he thought about the incident and he can only assume you were too engrossed into the game to notice. Atsumu feels as though he’s crossed a very awkward line.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” He excuses himself, locking himself into the room, hands aggressively trying to brush away the flush of his cheeks.

As he’s in the bathroom, he takes his time in trying to cool down. He’s trying to find some lotion, hands rummaging through the drawers until as he opens one, he spots the familiar brand of condoms, it’s ones that he’s used before. He blinks three times, an image of you tucked between bedsheets flashes in his mind, before harshly slamming the drawer. Hands flying to his face, and he couldn’t help but think how his luck had run out so fast.

“Tsumu?” You call from the living room, “Everything good in there?”

“Yep!” He answers, “Just looking for some lotion.”

“It’s in the last drawer.”

As he exits the bathroom, he watches you; everything suddenly was different. No longer were you the cute, innocent girl that was his friend’s sister. Perhaps there was another side of you that he just lost track of. Atsumu finds himself seated on the other end of you, legs tucked close to him while continuously eyeing you from the corner of his eyes. A blush creeps onto his face when you look back at him with a smile.

“Congratulations on your win!” You scream into your cell, completely unfazed at the way people in the convenience store looked at you, “See! I told you that you’d win! Tsumu you were so cool with your last serve.”

Atsumu chuckles, a sudden boastful feeling in his throat, “Even better than Omi right?!”

Your voice falls silent, “Your serve was alright.”

“You’re supposed to be supporting me!” Atsumu whines, “Where are you right now?”

“Right now?” You exit the convenience store, staring up at the neon sign, “I’m leaving the store right now.”

“The one by the post office or the one by the chicken restaurant?”

You continue to walk, “The chicken restaurant. Why?”

Arms wrap around your waist, a shriek comes from your mouth as your lifted into the air, spun around excitedly as you hear his laugh. When he sets you down, you turn, hand slapping against his chest. The dim streetlight focusing on you both.

“You should be celebrating with your team.” You look up at him, the excitement in his expression has him practically wanting to jump all over the place.

The grin plastered on him is the brightest you had ever seen. He wraps his arm around your neck, pulling you along the pathway to your home, “I already did, now we need to celebrate!”

He presses a harsh kiss on your cheek, your hand automatically wipes the sloppy kiss, “Disgusting. I’m letting you get away with that because you won your game today.”

Foolishness on his lips, he takes the bag from your hands, carrying it the rest of the way to your place where he promptly raids your kitchen of food and drinks.

In the middle of the night he remains the only one awake, your head fallen on his shoulder as you drifted to slumber. Atsumu feels a lump in his throat, the alcohol in his system tells him to hold you close. He takes in the scent of your hair, his fingers lifted to push aside the strands from your face, he quickly pulls back when you stir. He’s wide awake that night, staring at the ceiling while you slept soundly in your bedroom and he on your couch. Atsumu raises a hand to peer at his fingertips, the warmth of your hair still hot against his skin.

There was a fine line with how Atsumu was feeling and it felt uncomfortable for him to be staring at the line. If he moved passed that line, it could jeopardize his friendship with you, his friendship with your brother, and it was absolutley agonizing. But it was just as terrible being on the safe side pining over you.

“Seriously?” Osamu quirks a brow to him, he laughs, “No way.”

Atsumu groans, forehead pressed against the counter of his brother’s restaurant, “I’m serious. Is it wrong?”

Osamu nods, “Very.”

Atsumu frowns, a defeat on his face when he looks at Osamu, “You’re supposed to be helping me.”

Osamu perks, “Oh I’m sorry. Please, I’m sure Rintarou would love you to date his sister who’s six years younger than us and who we practically watched grow.”

Atsumu slumps back to his position face down on the counter, “I’m a terrible person.” Atsumu moans, “She’s so pretty, and funny, and she gets me.” Atsumu sits straight up, “Like yesterday, she came by my practice and brought me lunch!”

Osamu crosses his arms, “Didn’t she bring that for her precious Omi. I saw her instagram post.”

“But she gave me mine first!” Atsumu pulls his fingers into a fist, “So because I’m first, she likes me more!” Atsumu’s lips fall to a scowl, “Right?”

Atsumu declared that his main problem; all other problems aside, such as your brother. How could he know if you liked him if all you ever looked at was Sakusa Kiyoomi.

It wasn’t easy but he managed to get you a priority pass into the venue of his game. It wasn’t your first time in the arena but it would be the first you actually watched him play in person and not behind a screen. You were quick to find Osamu setting up his onigiri stand, a chuckle on his lips when he saw you.

“Weren’t you invited by Atsumu?”

You tug your hat, a blank expression in your eyes, “Yeah, why?”

Osamu whips out his phone, you strike a quick pose at the shutter of his camera. The pictures were sent in a quick text to his brother. And just to clickbait him, Osamu sends a sweet and short text to make sure his brother would open the images.

She looks so adorable in the MSBY Black Jackals merch.

Atsumu never opened a text so quick, and he’s never felt betrayal so fast before. The jersey you wore while identical to his from the front, the back displayed Sakusa’s name and jersey number. The hat you adorned was knitted with Sakusa’s number and the side of the hat you’ve written his name in white marker against the black cap, hearts drawn cutely before and after his name. To add salt to the wound, there was a clear picture of your phone case, you’ve switched it out from the cute peach phone case he got you to a Sakusa Kiyoomi phone case.

“I hate you so much.” Atsumu holds his phone with a harsh grip, staring at his teammate.

“What?” Sakusa answers.

The game ended in a roar, Atsumu’s heated head channeled into the ball caused quite a few victory points. At one point, he was thinking about accidentally serving a ball to the back of Sakusa’s head but that would only result in you caring for the man more. He could imagine you pushing him aside to tend to your precious Omi.

Many fans lingered once the game was over, Atsumu found himself surrounded by reporters but the corner of his eyes caught your figure walking past security and onto the main ground. His words drawing out as you skipped your way to Sakusa; the hat on your head pulled off as you asked him for an autograph on your hat.

“Hey!” Atsumu jogs to the two of you, his arm finding themselves on your shoulders.

“You did absolutely amazing Omi!” You brush Atsumu’s arm off and he frowns.

Sakusa puts a mask on, “Thank you.”

When he walks away, you’re still starstruck, the hat in your hand held tightly. Atsumu glares daggers into the back of his teammate’s head. The moment you turn to him, Atsumu is smiling.

“Look!” You’re shoving the hat into his face, “He signed my hat!”

Atsumu pretends to be excited, “Next thing you know, he’ll sign your shirt!”

You gasp, “Do you think he would? Wait.” You turn, attempting to run away from him, “I must go find him again.” You giggle when Atsumu catches your arm, pulling you back to him, “I guess the Miya Atsumu would do.”

He takes in your playful eyes, mischievousness on your lips, and the way your cheeks grow when you look at him. If he wasn’t so hopelessly in love, maybe he would have already kissed your lips.

“Want to take a picture?” Atsumu slips his hand to take your phone from your back pocket, a gesture making you smack his arm.

A small pout on his lips when he notices that your wallpaper is still one with Sakusa; but he recruits one of his other teammates to take a picture. Atsumu’s hands dance on your waist, pulling you into him, pressing his cheek against yours, practically trying to crush you into him, you’re laughing. He finds it adorable.

“I’ll wait for you.” You tell him as he leaves to the locker rooms.

You’re scrolling through your cell phone, the pictures on your phone grinning back at you. A slow smile emerges on your lips, Atsumu’s hands on your waist trying to hold you still even though you know he’s trying to tickle you. Your finger holds onto the photo, what follows is a short video of yours and his smile growing larger. Out of impulse, you set the image as your lock screen.

“Gotcha!”

You jump, head whipping back to find your brother staring down at you, “Gosh!” You hit him, “You’re so annoying. Go away!” You attempt to smack his leg but he retracts quickly.

Rintarou pokes the hat on your head, “Did your boyfriend sign the hat for you, is that why you’re so happy?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You speak up, “he’s the best player on the Black Jackals!” You stick your tongue out to him, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at practice or something.”

He points behind him, “Samu and I are going out to eat, thought I’d watch the end of the game. What are you doing?”

“I’m waiting for Tsumu. We were going to go out to eat too.”

“Great.” He narrows his eyes, “Let’s all go together then.”

For some reason, it was painfully awkward for Atsumu. Osamu found it painfully amusing and the Suna siblings shared one brain cell, focusing their attention on the food. The moment all four of you walked into the restaurant, Atsumu almost instinctively chose the seat next to you; the sudden awareness of your brother in the room had him switching seats rapidly.

“So.” Osamu began, “How come you don’t have a boyfriend yet?”

Atsumu begins to cough, a sheepish grin on your lips, Rintarou doesn’t pay attention to the question.

“I guess no guy has piqued my interest yet.” Your hand covers your mouth, attempting to chew and talk at the same time, “I’ve dated here and there but nothing serious yet.”

Osamu nods, “You’re still young, how old are you now?”

You swallow, “Twenty-one.”

Osamu puts a hand onto his brother’s shoulder, “Did you hear that Tsumu, twenty-one.” Atsumu tries drinking water to cease his coughing, “That means that we’re six years apart, right?”

Rintarou finally looks up, “Why are you so suddenly interested in our age difference?”

Atsumu coughs once more, “It’s not like age differences matter.”

Your brother’s actions stop, “Why would the age difference matter in this situation?”

Atsumu and Osamu cough, their food going down the wrong pipe at the same time. In that moment, you steal food from your brother’s plate, the action diverting his attention from the twins. Like siblings, you bicker with your brother as he steals from your plate this time.

The ride home was just as painful. You sat in the back seat, Osamu driving, Atsumu in the passenger side, and your brother with you in the back. The only sound coming from the radio and you kept yourself occupied with your cell phone; not a care in the world that there was some tension in the car.

“I’ll see you guys. Rin, make sure you remember next month is mom’s birthday. Let’s spit a gift.” You wave to the three boys before running off into your apartment building.

The air in the car suddenly thick. Rintarou sits up, hands placed on the shoulders of Atsumu’s seat, “The age difference joke.” Atsumu feels his soul leaving his body, “I’d prefer it if you lay off.” Rintarou slumps back into his seat, “But I don’t care, do as you see fit.” Atsumu looks at him through the passenger side mirror, “I don’t control your lives.”

Atsumu wonders if that was his friend’s way of giving his blessing.

“You still like me better than your brother, right?” Atsumu pokes at you from the seat on your couch.

You roll your eyes, “Will you be quiet if I say yes?” Atsumu nods, “Then yes mister clingy, I like you so much more than my brother.”

Atsumu grins, “How about Omi?”

You shoot him a glare, “You’re stretching it pretty far there.”

There’s a moment of silence before he lets out a deep sigh, one that you’ve suddenly grown accustomed to understanding that he wanted attention.

“You know what we never do?” Atsumu shuffles in his seat.

You look at him, “Is it be quiet?”

Atsumu pokes your cheek, “Nope.” He pulls away when you try to bite his finger, “We never talk about our past. We literally grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same school, knew the same people.”

“First off.” You’ve turned to fully look at him now, “We went to the same school but never attended at the same time and second, we know the same people because you’re friends with my brother.” Your shoulders shrugged, “You gotta admit, we didn’t get close until almost two years ago when you inserted yourself into my life.”

Atsumu grins happily, “Now you’re blessed with me.”

“More like cursed.” You swat his hand away when he tries to touch your nose.

“What about your first crush or love?” Atsumu tilts his head to you, “Mine was this girl I was dating when I was eighteen. Boy, I thought she was the cutest girl ever until she got extra clingy and jealous. I thought she was going to claw my eyes out.” Atsumu laughs, when he notices that you lack laughter, he pokes your sides, “You?”

“Mine?” Your eyes can’t meet his gaze, “It was you.” Atsumu freezes, perhaps his ears played a joke on him. Suddenly when you look into his eyes, your lips smile, “Yeah, I had the biggest crush on you when I was ten. Isn’t that funny?”

But he doesn’t laugh, his hands cover his face to hide the blush, “That’s so cute.” Atsumu pinches your cheek, “Little you had a crush on me?” You smother a pillow into his face, but it doesn’t drown out his sounds, “It’s absolutely precious!”

“Shut up!” You screech.

He pulls the pillow away, he’s laid out on the couch now, your legs positioned on either side of his hips and with the removal of the pillow in his face, his hands grasp your wrists, the sudden realization that you were straddling him had heat coming out of his ears.

“Sorry.” You pull away. Atsumu shrinks to the opposite side of the couch, face hot as you get up, “I’m gonna order us some food.” Your arm covers your face, trying to hide the heat that’s rushed to your cheeks.

“That’s different.” Osamu notices your phone case, “Wasn’t it a Sakusa one before?”

You lift your phone, “Yeah, my other phone case got dirty and I saw an Atsumu one. The Sakusa ones were sold out so I just thought why not.”

“Interesting.” When he states that you shrug, moving along to find your seat in the arena. Osamu peers over the side of his cart, staring at the overabundance of Sakusa Kiyoomi phone cases in the stall next to him. Osamu merely laughs, “They’re so stupid.”

Atsumu finds himself once again surrounded by reporters, his hands wave signaling that they could talk to anyone else but him, even pushing his other teammate to the reporters.

“Excuse me, can I have your autograph?”

Atsumu tries to smile politely, “Sorry, maybe next time.”

“Alright, I guess I’ll just go find Omi.” Atsumu does a doubletake, his lips spread into a fine grin.

His arms pulling you into a hug, you repress trying to let out a sound of disgust when you realize he’s all sweaty, “What are you doing here?” Atsumu’s fingers run through a strand of your hair, “I thought you were working?”

“I was and then suddenly.” You folded your hands into a fist, coughing into it slowly with a mischievous smile, “I got sick.”

Atsumu uses a finger to push your head back, “You shouldn’t be lying at work.”

Your eyes quickly dart to behind him, “Quick! There’s Omi!” You grab Atsumu’s arm, “Can you take a picture of me and him please!”

It took a little convincing and some rules, but Sakusa complied to the photo. Atsumu grips your phone, an eerie grin on him as he sees that Sakusa places a hand onto the small of your back. But as Atsumu turns on your phone, the happy picture of the two of you washes over him. As he tries to swipe to go to the camera, the picture plays into a short video and for a second, he feels love wash over him.

“Tsumu!” Your voice wakes him from his thought. He’s quick to take pictures and you skip to him after thanking Sakusa for the pictures. Your lips fall into a scowl, “Tsumu! They’re all blurry!”

Atsumu is walking away from you, he shrugs his shoulders as he heads to the locker rooms, “I guess I don’t have a steady hand.” He’s laughing as you yell at him.

Atsumu finds himself slowly walking, he sees you leaning against a pillar, cell phone in your hand, just waiting for him. He finds himself wanting to admire you for a little bit longer, he wants to run his fingers through your hair and most importantly, he wants to feel what it would be like to kiss you.

“Were you slow motion walking here or something?” You laugh.

But Atsumu doesn’t feel like laughing right now, he feels like he wants you; more than anything he’s ever wanted before. The look in his eyes change as he’s suddenly rubbing a thumb over your cheek.

“If I’m crossing a line.” Atsumu’s eyes dart to your lips, “Just tell me to stop.”

He’s leaning down, your back pressed against the pillar. One of his hands rests on your hip the other still a caressing your cheek. He lets himself pause before your lips; eyes deeply lost in yours before he takes the dive. He’s absolutely immersed in you, your arms bring him deeper in and he’s euphoric. He dips in, pushing your head back to bump against the pillar. You let out a groan, pushing his arms away as your hand flies to the back of your head.

You chuckle, “A little too eager there.”

“Sorry.” Atsumu bites his lower lip, the seconds ago just barely registering in his head, “Was that alright?”

“Do you want some kind of grade?” You purse your lips, “Maybe a B+.” You tease but Atsumu pouts. Your fingers tug on his jacket, palms against his cheeks to pull him down, pressing a quick peck to his lips, “Does that answer your question?”

Your footsteps begin to walk away from him. You look at him from over your shoulder; he still seemed stunned, but the way you moved drew him in.

“If you’re going to just stand there, I might just go ahead and find Omi.”

Like a puppy, he runs to you; hands reaching out to you as you begin to scamper through the hall. A delighted squeal leaves your mouth when he catches up, arms encasing you in a hug; he’s pressing a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“So, we’re just supposed to get used to this now?” Osamu watches Atsumu throw an arm around your shoulders, his brother sticking his tongue out childishly, “What are you so smug about, you spent practically two years pining over her.”

Rintarou sighs, suddenly feeling uneasy about the situation, “I thought you knew better. I told you to not associate yourself with Atsumu.”

Your fingers interlock with Atsumu’s, the siblings in front of the two of you continue to yammer but their voices are drowned out with Atsumu pressing his lips against your hair. He feels the need to draw his seat closer to you, and your brother scowls.

Atsumu lets go of you with a shriek, the hot soup spilled onto his pants.

“Rin!” You shout.

“He crossed the line.”

Your brother hogs the napkins, Osamu laughs loudly, and you watch your boyfriend scream in agony. You roll your eyes at your brother, after all, you were still his little sister and he can’t just have anyone trying to make a move on you.

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #atsumu #atsumu miya

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jadelynlace · 3 years

Text

ink drinker / modern vikings au, Ivar x F!Reader

author’s note: long story short, I wrote this series but used an OFC that I use for most of my longer series. many thanks to @victoria-styles for her suggestion of making it a reader / Y/N story. major plot tweaks as well.

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend: you.

pairing: Ivar x Reader

✎

“Not into the million dollar bullshit?” You heard a voice beckon from behind you, stepping forwards with a light to start the cigarette that hung between your Oxford red stained lips.

“Crawling through the depths of hell sounds more pleasant than being here,” You grumbled back through the cloud of grey smoke slipping past your lips. You watched the figure next to you light up his own cigarette, taking note at how his fingers curled around the stick as he laughed with your words. “I’m only here to calm Hvitserk,”

“And he’s not even here,” He said back with a laugh, blue eyes peeking to grab at yours.

“Structure fire across town,” You tell him. “Told him that if he’s so inclined he can bring the truck over here and spray the party with the water,” Ivar laughed at that.

“Fuck, you clean up nice. And I love a woman in uniform,” He teases, smirking as you do too. It went silent for a second between you two, sticks of chemicals on your lips as his eyes did not miss the way your dress hugged at your body, how your stilettos were secured around your ankles. He couldn’t pull his mind back quickly enough before he was imagining them over his shoulders, your lips that curled around the filter and how they might look around his cock. How you were the first person who gave him complete reign over the ink he was going to forever mark your body with.

“Let’s just say I’d rather slice my own tongue off and choke on it than admit to that, actually wearing something other than the blues, and enjoying it,” You groan as the man next to you laughs, a sick snicker coming from his lips and you find yourself smiling too. “But you don’t clean up half bad yourself, Ivar,” You tease back as your eyes catch sight of the roll of his sleeves, how he maneuvers the buttons and pulls the white fabric back to show the first indications of sleeved out arms.

“Where do you want to go?” Ivar asks, taking the cigarette from his mouth to stub.

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t think I fucking stuttered,” He started in challenge. “You said you didn’t want to be here, so where would you like to go?” He asks a quick swipe of his tongue over his lips as he cocks his head to the side awaiting your answer.

“Alright, Ragnarsson, you’re fucking on,” You laugh back, crushing your own stick with the spike of your heel as you follow him.

Hvitserk was a man who took most things with a grain of salt, others came with a few shots of whiskey. He had seen the darker side of humanity, and you were right there with him when he did. Your interest in becoming certified for emergency medicine had followed you since your high school graduation, and you were right on the top of the sign up sheet when class enrolled. And you stayed on top when your graduated. Company firings and how it lead to short staffing, moving of some onto better things lead to an opening you leapt on and found yourself paired with a paramedic with blonde hair and a smile that could cause most of the human population to smile back. It did not take long for a friendship to strike up, even outside of the station and the blazing sirens. His humor, his companionship kept you sane, kept the darkness of the horrid calls at bay, you two grew close, quickly.

Even if company policy allowed the romantic attachments between co-workers, you still couldn’t find yourself catching some sort of feeling to Hvitserk. He was a friend, your best, and it was left at that. You trusted him with your life, you’d gladly lay on the stretcher and head into the emergency room as long as he was the paramedic who was treating you.

Sigurd came next in the line of his brothers, an obsession with music, and nothing but the best that world could offer. He had an artistic hand, Hvitserk drove you towards his place of employment for permanent artwork to your liking and that was how you met Ivar. He watched you tip toe through his portfolio, but if Sigurd had talent, then Ivar was a God. You had never seen such movement on skin where he would trace his ink. You didn’t want to pull a design off of the internet and ask Ivar to put in on you, it seemed almost rude, instead you told him where you wanted it, and told him to go crazy. He looked at you in such a way, thinking you were joking. Perhaps too un-educated in the world of tattoos, but you held your ground and he was proud of such a feat.

Work was all too consuming, trying to leave space for time other than the blood pressure cuffs and patient history. You’d spend time out on town with Hvitserk, his brothers soon in tow, a party of their own that they could become. You were shocked Hvitserk hadn’t caught on, that none of them had, how long you had been spreading your legs for Ivar in secret. Petty bantering between the two of you, the others making bets to see whom would kill whom first, but that chatter went towards the foreplay that would follow you two into the bedroom. The most shock you came to realize was how Ivar was always there in the morning—it took a lot of you to convince him to leave, but he always mumbled something about five more minutes just for holding you.

Perhaps it was how your days were spent doused in testosterone, one of the three women of the entire station, entire company, leaving you to be able to handle yourself around men with egos far bigger than the dicks they would carry. That was how you were so seamlessly integrated into the Ragnarsson brother’s, struck up like the sister they never got. That was how Ivar found himself thinking about you far more than a friend with or without benefits would, how tightly you snug around his cock, how you look and sounded when you came for him, how you had pulled more from him than any other woman he had slept with. How you made him feel appreciated and not like a man who needed to navigate himself with his dick to get what women he wanted. How you didn’t toss him to the side after the first fuck. You drove him crazy and he didn’t have the words to admit to it.

“If I hear a grumble from you one more time Ivar, I am going to kick you out of the shop,” Sigurd spoke from his spot at the front desk, thumbing through a magazine of industry products as Ivar hissed a curse at him in reply. “What the fuck is you problem?”

“Y/N,” Ivar answered all too quickly.

“What? She hurt your ego too bad last time we were out? Didn’t stroke it enough to your liking?” Sigurd teased.

“No,” Ivar said. “She didn’t stroke me enough to my liking,” But Ivar said the words far too quickly before he could catch them.

“Are you fucking her?” Sigurd said, sitting up in his chair. “You two are fucking?” He laughed.

“Shut up,” Ivar grumbled, a toss of his pencil flying to grace the space Sigurd was at.

“She cut your dick off? That the issue?” He teased. “Hvitserk’s going to go ape-shit, dude,”

“That’s why we’re not telling him yet, right Sigurd?” Ivar said “Right, Sigurd?” He repeated with an extended finger at his brother.

“How long have you two been fucking—I need to know that, for science, and because I am still in shock. How did you—her? She’s too good for you Ivar, you have to be careful there,”

“Two years,” Ivar remarked and Sigurd nearly fell out of his chair.

“Fuck! You ask her out yet?”

“We’re not talking about this—or telling anyone else, right?” Ivar said again.

“Yes, sir,” Sigurd nodded, a fake salute from his hand as his mind was still scrambled.

“Don’t call me sir,” Ivar snapped.

“Yes ma’am,”

You’d never forget the call that came through dispatch a month after you and Ivar had started to screw around more often than fuck buddies would. The address sounded familiar, but Hvitserk was the one who made the connection it was the shop. Ink Drinker was a parlor bathed in black; walls and dark floors that made the rooms look like they never ended. The art displayed belonged to that of Ivar, of Sigurd, of the few others who came and went for their tattoo work. The owner had wooden sculptures of his own to line the spaces, but you had only ever seen the man through his social media.

You feared suddenly something happening to Ivar, or Sigurd, readying yourself for the sight that may hold them there, but it wasn’t them. A patron had passed out to the sight of the needles, sending Ivar to sour his entire mood at the weakness for something he found so simple. His flash of anger changed suddenly when you and his brother showed up, jumping from the rig in full expectance to see either sibling in a bloody mess after fighting to their death.

“I called and specifically asked for Hvitserk Ragnarsson and his partner,” Sigurd teased as the teenager came too, apologizing and still paying Ivar for the appointment he was too scared to cancel.

“I was hoping it would be a trauma call, you finally snapping and kicking Ivar’s ass,” You answered back, smirking at Ivar as he rolled his eyes in distaste. Ivar’s eyes climbed your whole body as you worked, the uniform marking your hierarchy and importance as you took the patient to the hospital. His text message not ten minutes later almost made you head back just to smack him.

“You’re keeping the uniform on next time we fuck.”

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

If the requests are still open, I watched the try guys trying sexy alcohol video recently (The Try Guys Sexy Alcohol Taste Test is the name of the video) and I was laughing the whole time. I was thinking it would be really fun to have the team do it for a social media video if you wanted to write it! :)

I absolutely love the Try Guys and I’ve been watching their videos for years--thank you so much for suggesting this! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove and the link to the original video is here

TW for alcohol and lots of sexual references

“I’m so fucking excited for this video,” Finn said, drumming his hands on the table.

Remus gave him a disbelieving look. “You have the lowest alcohol tolerance on the entire team, Harzy. I’d be shocked if you were still awake by the end of this.”

“We’ll find out soon enough!” Marlene announced offscreen. “Do the intro and then we’ll get started.”

“Welcome back to Lion Pride, folks! I’m Finn O’Hara—”

“—and I’m Remus Lupin.”

“Dude, you said I could do the intro.”

“I can’t even say my own name?”

“Boys,” Marlene warned.

Finn cleared his throat and turned back to the camera with a bright smile. “Today we’re tasting sexy alcohol, even though I have no idea what that means!”

The video cut to a different table and James waved to the camera. “Hey, everyone! I’m James Potter, and I’m here today with our wonderful captain Sirius Black to taste test sexy alcohol!”

“What qualifies alcohol as sexy?” Sirius asked. “Is it supposed to turn you on, or something?”

“The names are sexy,” Marlene clarified. “Ready for the first one?”

A title card appeared with Drink 1: Sex on the Beach written in cursive letters.

“Sex on the beach!” Remus and Finn chorused, clinking their glasses together and taking a sip. Remus made a face, while Finn looked thoughtful as he smacked his lips.

“Why is it so sour?” Remus coughed, setting the drink down.

“You’re not a fan of sex on the beach?” Finn teased. “This is always the classy lady drink in movies. It’s not bad, actually.”

James’ face scrunched up as he drank and Sirius went through a whole range of emotions, then tried it again. “It’s not better the second time,” he said. “Just…weird.”

“Much like actual sex on the beach, it’s flat out uncomfortable.” James slid the glass out of reach.

“You’ve had sex on a beach?”

“Haven’t you?”

“No, sand gets everywhere even when I don’t strip down.”

“Ha! Loser.” The video transitioned right as Sirius reached over to smack the back of his head.

Drink 2: Buttery Nipple

“A fucking what?” Remus laughed, leaning toward the camera crew. Marlene repeated the name and he nodded slowly. “Okay, that’s what I thought you said.”

Finn sniffed the shot. “Is that butterscotch?”

“It is,” Marlene said.

“Rad. On three. One, two, three!”

They knocked their shots back at the same time and Remus raised his eyebrows as he swallowed. “That’s really not that bad. Best nipple I’ve ever tasted.”

“Very sweet, I like it,” Finn agreed around his grin.

A smile twitched at the corners of Remus’ mouth. “You like the buttery nipple?”

“I do like the buttery nipple,” Finn snorted, sending them both into peals of laughter.

James stared down at his shot glass, then turned to Sirius and opened his mouth; Sirius reached over and covered it with his palm. “Don’t say it.”

“But it really looks like—”

“I know.” Sirius bit his lip, sighed, and downed the shot. “Y’know, that’s actually pretty good.”

James rolled the empty glass between his fingers. “That would give me a wicked headache in the morning.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure.”

Drink 3: Suck, Bang, Blow

There was a brief pause as Remus and Finn shared a look. “I think that’s the wrong order,” Finn said after a moment.

Remus nodded. “Bang is generally last on the list if you’re doing it right.”

“It also implies that you’re not sucking on the last part, which is just bad blowjob etiquette.”

“Bottoms up.” Remus tapped the rim of their glasses together and took a sip—almost immediately, he spat it back out. “What in the unholy fuck is that?”

“My whole face is itching,” Finn coughed. “Holy shit, there’s so many different types of alcohol in there that is just tastes like straight-up sugar. I would order this at a bar if I was horny and sad and didn’t care who I went home with.”

“Yeah, this is what you get if you want something that’ll fuck you up.” Remus paused for a second, then covered his mouth with his hand. “You know who would drink this?”

“Who?”

“People who live in Florida.”

Finn’s whole face lit up and he dug around in his back pocket, dialing a quick number on his phone before putting it on speaker; it rang twice before connecting. “ ‘Sup, Finner Finner Chicken Dinner?”

Remus’ jaw dropped and Finn rested his forehead on the table. “Thanks for that,” he sighed. “We’re filming a video for Lion Pride right now.”

“Oh, sick!” the voice on the other end said. “Hey Lions!”

“Hi, Alex!” Marlene called.

“I just have a quick question,” Finn continued. “Have you ever heard of a drink called Suck, Bang, Blow?”

“Hell yeah, they’re super popular down here.”

“Called it!” Remus grinned and high-fived Finn. “Thanks, Hazard.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because if anyone is going to have shitty alcohol, it’s you and your bouncy ice.”

“Hey—”

Finn ended the call and put his phone away once again with a gleeful smile. “He’s never going to hear the end of that.”

Drink 4: Amber Moon

“That’s a lot of whiskey,” James said as a crewman handed them their drinks; Sirius whistled lowly and held it up to the light.

“Why are there red flakes in it?”

“Tabasco sauce,” Marlene said off screen.

James nudged Sirius with his elbow. “I bet I can drink this is ten seconds.”

“Do it in five or you’re a coward.”

“You’re on.” He cleared his throat, then tipped the glass back.

“One, two, three, four, five, six!” Sirius pumped his fists in the air with a whoop.

“You counted too fast!” James protested, giving the camera crew a desperate look. “Marley, he counted way too fast!”

“Looks like…” There was a brief moment of silence. “Five point three four seconds, Pots.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, setting the glass down. “It tasted horrible, by the way.”

The video cut to Remus and Finn, who were eyeing the drink suspiciously. “I’ll bite,” Remus said. “What’s the sexy name for a hot sauce and whiskey monstrosity?”

“Amber Moon.”

“That would be my stripper name,” the two said in unison, then turned to each other with identical gasps.

Drink 5: Blowjob Shot

Sirius looked deeply uncomfortable as he set the shot glass on his lap. “Don’t make this weird.”

“What? The part where I’m putting my face in your lap?” James asked with false innocence as a smile spread over his face.

“Merde,” Sirius muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just get it over with.”

“That’s a rude thing to say to someone who’s about to give you a blowjob.”

“You’re not giving me a blowjob.”

James raised his eyebrows and Sirius rolled his eyes, kicking him lightly. “Alright, alright. Do you want to go first?”

Sirius leaned forward, paused halfway down, then cursed under his breath and took the shot glass between his lips, knocking it back in a quick motion. James opened his mouth and the first bit of a fake moan slipped through before Sirius tackled him to the ground.

The video cut for a moment—when it returned, they were sitting in their chairs once again, and James looked incredibly smug as he rested his elbows on his thighs. “Ready, hot stuff?”

“You’re the worst person to have as a best friend.”

James didn’t hesitate before wrapping his mouth around the rim of the glass, then made a noise of panic when it didn’t go down his throat right away. His eyes went wide and he cupped his hand under his face, slapping Sirius’ knee with the other.

“Are you okay?” Sirius laughed. “Just—just knock it back, buddy, you can do it.”

James made a muffled sound and the camera crew started snickering off screen as the whipped cream smudged over his nose.

“His eyes are watering,” Sirius cackled. “Oh, this is karma in action. Is it too much? Spitters are quitters, Pots, you can—"

James glared at him, then choked slightly and spat the shot glass and all its contents onto Sirius’ chest. Dead silence fell over the studio, broken only by the steady drip of the liqueur on the paper below their table.

“Does anyone have a napkin?” Sirius asked after a moment, shaking his hands out.

“I am…so sorry,” James said as he wiped his lower lip.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know! It was doomed from the outset, I guess.” He wrinkled his nose. “I can feel it in my sinuses.”

Remus and Finn both downed their shots easily; neither struggled for more than half a second. They were both a little flushed from the alcohol and Finn hiccupped as they turned back to the camera.

“How did you do that so well?” Marlene asked, clearly amused.

“Frat,” Finn said at the same time Remus shrugged and said, “college.”

“Pots spat his all over Sirius.”

“It’s because he’s straight.” Finn hiccupped again and Remus burst out laughing.

Drink 6: Body Shot

“Who are we doing this off of?” James asked. All four men sat at the same table; Sirius had removed his flannel and James’ cheeks were pink from five—well, four and a half—drinks.

“Guess who, bitches!” Kasey grinned as he walked out from behind the backdrop, clad only in his Lions sweatpants. James, Finn, and Remus cheered while Sirius put his head in his hands. “Shit, Cap, you’re doing wonders for my self-esteem.”

“Is this a power imbalance?”

“I’m older than you, now move your elbows so I can lay down.”

The folding table creaked as Kasey laid on his back and all five of them froze for a second until Marlene emerged with salt, lime slices, and a bottle of clear alcohol under her arm. “Do you know how this works?”

Four nods answered her and she carefully poured the tequila into Kasey’s bellybutton—he jolted at the cold and some of it spilled down his sides. “Aw, man, now my pants are damp.”

“Where—” Remus cut himself off with a laugh as he took the salt. “Where do you want us to salt you, Bliz?”

“Wherever your heart desires.” They passed the container down the line, each sprinkling a pinch somewhere on Kasey’s bare chest. “Ready?”

Finn wrinkled his nose as he licked the salt, sipped some tequila, and quickly put the lime wedge in his mouth with a distressed sound. Remus was next, and he barely skimmed his mouth over Kasey’s belly button before shoving the lime between his teeth; James missed his mark completely because Kasey was still laughing, and Sirius got some of it up his nose on accident.

“You guys suck at this,” Kasey managed as he sat up, brushing the leftover salt off his front. “Jesus Christ, have any of you been to a party in your lives?”

All four exploded into indignant protesting and the video transitioned to a final slide. “Thanks for joking us today, Lions!” Marlene said in a voiceover. “Make sure to like and subscribe for more content.”

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