thoughts and frivolities

The What Ifs

Description:  You would be able to handle the relationship between Namjoon and your best friend if it weren’t for all those damned “what ifs”

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader x OC

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2,149

A/N: This was just supposed to be a quick drabble created because I was deep in some angsty readings but instead it kind of grew…?  Anyways, there’s not really a point to it, I suppose.

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Hello! I was reading the part of War and Peace that Great Comet was based on and decided to make a list of all the phrases/sentences in the novel that I found while listening along to the cast recording while reading that are either directly put into the lyrics of the musical, or are heavily referenced with a few changes. I have separated these findings by song, not in the order of which they appear in the novel. For some of the lines that are less directly from the novel I have put the lyrics that are connected to them in parentheses and italics next to the book quotes. It’s really really really fun to see which lyrics have a match so I hope you enjoy!

Also sorry for any formatting issues: in some songs there are huge chunks that are almost directly lifted from the book so some placement of bullet points might be wonky. And if you know of any that I missed, please reblog and add! 

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How To Make A Writer Cry

TITLE OF STORY: How To Make A Writer Cry

CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: A series of one-shots

AUTHOR: winterheart17


STORY GENRE: Romance, Drama, Erotica

STORY SUMMARY: This is a one shot for my series called ‘How To Love A Writer’ starting with ‘How To Seduce A Writer’. What happens when a struggling virginal historical romance writer and the God of Mischief are thrown together, locked in a mansion and agree to a game of love and seduction? After almost 2 months of being lovers, what happens when a past secret comes out?


STORY WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: Picking off where the last one stopped, what happens when our little writer has to come to terms with just how much she’s grown to care for our roguish Prince? 

FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Hope you enjoy this next addition - and please do let me know what you think! I would so love to hear from you <3 Tagging @devikafernando @nuggsmum @queen-sands

Masterpost of How To Love A Writer

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Kids - John Shelby

Request: Can you plz do an john shelby imagine where he is mad at you only to feel bad later?

Request: Can you please do a John Shelby imagine on meeting his kids - @theaqueenakaspeedy

Kids - John Shelby || prequel to Stay

It had been a few months ago that you’d first met John Shelby. He had never mentioned his kids up front to you but you had grown up in Small Heath. You had heard the gossip from your mother and her friends when Martha had gotten pregnant. There had been a quick wedding but everyone in Small Heath knew the marriage was because of the baby. They had three more, Martha dying during the birth of the last one. Your parents went to the funeral but you didn’t. You were in Cambridge at university getting a fancy degree. Your mother thought it was frivolous, women were supposed to get married and have children, not get educations like men did. The war came and went and you stayed in Cambridge. You had gotten a job at a library there. You didn’t hear anymore about the Shelby family.  

In 1919 you returned home because your father had passed away. Your father, who had known everyone and was affectionately referred to as ‘the Mayor of Small Heath’, had a large gathering at his grave. You stood by your mother and, even at 25, found yourself looking around the yard at the attendees. All three of the elder Shelby boys had come along with their aunt. You found yourself watching John Shelby. He’d grown up well and had a look about him that you were sure betrayed the nature of his job.  

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captainbatbrain  asked:

I think ive read every single thing on this blog i love it so much!! Lol i was hoping i could get some senerios of the phantom thieves + mishima with a gamer s/o and trying to get there attention? Thank you!

I can’t believe you enjoy my blog so much, thank you! <3 This is such a cute and fun request, so I hope you don’t if I make it a little silly lol. Enjoy!


The tapping of game controller buttons wafted throughout Leblanc’s rustic attic like the beat of a drum, with S/O as the fervent instrumentalist, their brows furrowed with a determination and concentration that was to be aspired to, particularly when performing mundane tasks, those of which Akira was currently preoccupied with. He had been fumbling with lockpicks for hours now, and one can only reiterate the same assignment until ennui begins to creep its way into the consciousness, plaguing it like a thick fog. He geared his attention toward the single person whose very presence prevented his sanity from thoroughly dilapidating.

S/O was inhabiting a universe of their own, ignorant and blissfully unaware of their current surroundings. 

“You seem to be having fun.” Akira rested his cheek upon his pal, with his elbow perched on his work-desk. As expected, he received no response, only the incessant sound of tapping buttons permeating his eardrums. His glistening onyx eyes softened at the sight of S/O tensed with such vigor. How adorable they appeared to him… truly, an exemplary target for the myriad of devious antics brewing in his mind. His lips curled in a smirk, the compulsion of teasing them too tempting to refuse.

“S/O…” Akira began, a solemn undertone in his baritone voice, “I need to tell you something.” Their subsequent grunt was likened to a neanderthal, and Akira firmly bit his lower lip to prevent himself from laughing. “I… think I’m pregnant.” He waited for their reaction with bated breath, but all that greeted his ears was another primal sound.

Shot down?! Akira thought, despondence slightly dampening his frivolous mood. Th-this is nothing… I welcome the challenge!

With a resolve that blazed like a wildfire in a parched wood, Akira sauntered to the couch that S/O was seated at and plopped down beside them, snaking his arms around their waist as he nestled his keen chin on their shoulder, his balmy breath fragrant with Arabica. His gaze was plastered on the luminescent TV screen, observing S/O’s gaming ability as he whispered commentary in a low, sensual cadence meant to imply suggestiveness. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Akira couldn’t possibly have anticipated S/O tensing even further; alas, that is precisely what occurred, much to his satisfaction, and although they neglected to reply verbally, their body language had spoken volumes. He proceeded with his mischievous jesting after a pause, “You’re doing so good, babe…" 

S/O was exceedingly conscious of his presence now, their sudden death streak and scathing scarlet cheeks serving as irrefutable evidence. Akira’s lips brushed their ear, his balmy sigh tickling it as his arms subtly constricted their waist, tugging them closer. “Your hands are almost as good as mi-”

In a foray of embarrassment, S/O promptly mashed their lips onto his conniving pair, thereby silencing his coquettish banter and causing his ebony orbs to widen with astonishment. When S/O reared back to survey his expression, an impressive ruby was painted over his once-pallid face, his mouth failing to provide a sufficient retort as it hung open.

This in turn provoked S/O’s cheeks to ignite like candle-flame as they exasperatedly exclaimed, “W-why are you embarrassed?! I guess you can dish it but you can’t it… anyway, what did you need?”

Akira feebly adjusted his glasses in an attempt to recover. “You’re pregnant.”


“I-I mean, I’m pregnant…!”

“That’s no possible! …Wh-who’s the parent?” The couple continued riffing off of one another, both exceptionally dedicated to their roles as they snuggled among their warmth, the video game long forgotten.


“Babe! Wouldja please tell me where my sweater is? I know you were wearin’ it the other day!”

Ryuji had scrutinized every nook and cranny of the bedroom in a flimsy endeavor to reunite with his favorite sweater; however, its existence had regrettably vanished, along with the blonde’s thinning patience as he redundantly called for S/O to no avail.

“Guess I’m not the only thief in this house,” Ryuji muttered, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, his leg bouncing with suppressed frustration. The only solution to this predicament was to confront S/O directly, so he trudged off to commence his search for the notorious sweater burglar. 

By no means was this the first instance of S/O pilfering his wardrobe - and to be fair, he often reciprocated the gesture, as he adored the familiar, pleasant fragrance that stained their clothes; he could only conjecture they felt the same as he - however, Ryuji had to draw the line, as the harsh bite of winter succeeded in permeating the air of the couple’s residence, and he certainly wasn’t about to tolerate it without the comfort of his favorite sweater. 

Ryuji finally found them in the living room, intently engaged in a video game via TV, adorned with… the very sweater he had so thoroughly searched for. “You little…! I knew it.” Ryuji murmured, a trace of vexation in his voice. 

Indeed, S/O seemed to be so devoted to their game that they had neglected to hear Ryuji boisterously speak next to their ear. “Hey, thief. Gimme my sweater back.” He tapped their ear as though it were a microphone. “Helloooo?”

“Quit it, I’m fighting an important boss and I’m so close to killing it,” they responded urgently, not even sparing a glance in his direction.

“Oh, I getcha…” With pure spitefulness driving his forthcoming action, he obstructed the view of the TV with his form, arms crossed as if he were a vitriolic parent. “You ready to pay attention now?”

The prominent flush that now dusted S/O’s cheeks was not the reaction he anticipated, and he stared at them with a questioning expression until they stuttered his name, their sight flitting to various areas of his body. The blonde glanced down and promptly noticed he overlooked the rationality of equipping himself with a shirt; as a result, the protruding muscles of his biceps and abdomen were fully exposed, with a keen V-shape peeking over his sweatpants.

“Oh shit, so that’s why it was so damn freezin’.” He glimpsed at S/O before pointedly reiterating, “I still want my sweater back, though. Give it.”

S/O swallowed the flustered lump in their throat as they broke out into a cold sweat, despite the crisp air around them. “W-wow, you’re so bold today, Ryuji.”

“…What are you thinkin’ in that messed up head of yours?” he sighed, stuffing his hands into his warm pockets once more prior to approaching S/O, bending at the waist to meet their gaze, the duo’s faces mere inches apart. “Are ya gonna give me my sweater, or am I gonna have to take it from ya?”

S/O began fanning their rosy face, their mind now set on teasing him as revenge for his interruption. “O-oh my, you have such a way with words…”

“Ugh, that’s it, I’m just gonna take it.” Ryuji knew better than to take their bait, as he had fallen victim to their shenanigans far too many instances throughout the years, and he had long since grown out of the bashfulness that took precedence at the start of his relationship with S/O. His hands dashed to the back of the sweater, feebly attempting to tug it up as S/O circled their arms around his bare waist, jerking him onto the couch as they cried, “Be gentle!”

“It ain’t like that, dammit…!” Ryuji quickly accepted his fate once S/O had wrapped their legs around his hips and began showering his face with playful kisses, giggling with child-like levity as they did so. 

His body was completely still, compressed against theirs as they embraced him and spoke softly in his ear. “I can see why this is your favorite sweater, it’s warm and cozy, like you… sorry for taking it. You can have it back.”

The embarrassment that Ryuji thought he had rid himself of returned posthaste, heating the majority of his body as he begrudgingly lied, “Th-that ain’t gonna work on me… but I guess you can wear it, I-I’m not really cold anymore.”

“Yeah, you’ve always been pretty hot,” S/O agreed with an inflection of mischief.

“Why am I in love with such a freakin’ weirdo…? Must be cursed or somethin’.”

Despite his words, he uplifted himself to delicately press a kiss onto their forehead before snatching the nearby blanket and covering the two of them with it. The couple shortly dozed off while they whispered sweet nothings, and S/O happening upon the sudden realization that the sought-after sweater was actually theirs.


Yusuke was able to greatly empathize with S/O’s one-track mind as they indulged in their favorite pastime, as he does the same when he’s occupied with painting or sketching. As it so happened, he was actually engaged with painting for hours on end until he had just now concluded it, thus the fault rests partially on him pertaining to S/O’s blatant disregard for his presence as they wholly absorbed themself in their portable game console as a means of distracting themself as the artist worked; their lack of acknowledgment was even more understandable when he had considered the fact that he shooed them away rather dismissively while he was busy.

“S/O, I apologize for keeping you waiting for so long. Shall I begin the movie?”
S/O ignored him almost entirely, save for the subtle pout that danced on their lips as they sunk further into their bean bag; although the couple had been monogamous for almost two years, that endearing pout never failed to stutter his swelling heart. As much as he’d love to admire them and ponder their splendor, he was well aware that he must rectify his earlier insensitivity. Therefore, he silently glided to S/O…

…and plopped right onto their lap.

“H-hey, what are you doing?!”

“Ah, it seems I’ve gotten your attention. To be honest, when Akira had instructed me to do this should I ever anger you, I was rather skeptical at first-”

“Y-Yusuke… your butt is digging into my thigh.” S/O uncomfortably wriggled underneath Yusuke, and he almost toppled off the bean bag chair had S/O not caught him at the last second, discarding their game system in order to do so. “Sorry!”

“Here, I’ll adjust my position a bit for your convenience.”

S/O shook their head in refusal. “It’s okay, I’ll spread my legs a little so you can sit too.”

Yusuke kissed their cheek with a fondness that could rival his adoration for art as snaked his lithe arms around their waist. “Your generosity knows no bounds, kitten.”

“It’s nothing… w-wait, I’m supposed to be ignoring you…!”

Yusuke chuckled triumphantly, his cadence registering in S/O’s ears like a euphoric melody as he explained, “Yes, it seems Akira was correct after all. Although next time I’ll be sure to wear a few more pairs of underwear for your comfort.”

S/O suppressed the loving smile that dared to threaten their lips and mustered their best neutral inflection as they offered, “I think you’ll need a few pillows.”
The artist’s eyes widened at such a far-fetched idea, which was clearly intended to be taken sarcastically. And yet: “H-how innovative…! Yes, I shall strap all the pillows I can find to my rear if I must do this again. Well done, my dear.”

S/O couldn’t take it anymore; how could they possibly maintain a disdainful countenance when their beloved was vastly more precious than all the iridescent gems in the world? They abruptly lurched at him, ensnaring his shoulders with their arms as the duo plummeted on the carpeted floor, with S/O on top of Yusuke, pasting a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. His arms were still wrapped around their waist, and his cheeks were kissed with a rosy-pink hue.


“…I forgive you.”

“No, that will not do, not without a proper apology. I’m sorry for my earlier impudence, and I will strive to be more attentive when you require it.”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s work on it it together, okay?” S/O’s subsequent smile was as brilliantly radiant as the morning sun, and the mirthful wink that followed their final word further twisted the arrow burrowed deep into his love-struck heart. His body moved of its own volition as he placed his palms on both of their cheeks for the purpose of descending their lips to his. After they parted, the couple flushed and averted their gazes as though they had just exchanged their first kiss, although neither of them were in any rush to alter their positions. The only commodity that motivated the two to stir was Sweeney Todd, which was the aforementioned movie Yusuke had borrowed from Haru. 

As such, they spent the duration of the night snuggled on the couch together with a bowl of freshly made popcorn warming their legs, the accompaniment of various musical numbers echoing throughout the living room.


Mishima was so incredibly centralized on his own video games - intermittently diverting his attention toward screenwriting his Phantom Thief of Hearts documentary - naturally, he had no indication that S/O was additionally participating in the activity until he finally emerged from his office, his joints popping like firecrackers from the effort. 

“Jeez, I’m not that old yet,” he murmured dejectedly, his mood already being soured due to the myriad defeats he had suffered while cooperating in a multiplayer online game.

Sometimes being a healer… is worse, he figured, his mind as gloomy as the dark circles shadowed under his bloodshot eyes. Mishima had really rather hoped S/O would be available, as he sought nothing more than the solace of their arms to nullify his ample rage and disappointment; alas, they were comfortably seated on a cushion in front of the TV, fully engrossed in their console game. He wordlessly sulked behind them and plummeted to the carpeted floor, lacing his arms around their waist as he pouted.

“I got my ass handed to me big time. Snipers show absolutely no mercy,” he mumbled to himself, since S/O certainly wasn’t listening. “Hey,” he complained, then promptly sighed. “Fine, ignore me… it doesn’t bother me one bit.”

Not even a minute passed when Mishima commenced rocking side-to-side like a metronome, chanting S/O’s name in a feeble attempt to draw their attention. “S/O, please love me. S/O, I’m an eighteen year old looking for a good time and I like long walks on the beach. S/O. Hey, S/O.” Mishima fragmented his sentences by plastering kisses on their neck, which certainly captured their attention as evidenced by their flustered countenance.

“Yuuki… you’re being ridiculous.”

“Sorry, I just need some comfort right now. Losing twenty-seven matches in a row really emasculates a guy.”

S/O shrugged as they pivoted their head away from him to conceal the playful smirk on their face. “Go take a long walk on the beach and have a good time.”

If it weren’t for his low spirits, Mishima would have laughed with the utmost amusement. “S/O… do you want me to die? Is this my punishment for taking the last yogurt cup you had?”

The entertainment in S/O’s eyes vanished entirely and was replaced by a cold, desolate void as they slowly turned toward their boyfriend. “…That was you?”

The sheer terror Mishima felt in his core nearly provoked the remainder of his spirits to astral project into another plane of existence. “C-crap…! Um, I-I’ll make it up to you, babe, promise.”

S/O narrowed their eyes at him before their emotionless facade shattered, reverting to their former levity as they proclaimed, “It’s okay, I was saving it for you anyway. I’ll get extra next time, in your favorite flavors.”

“…You’re an angel,” he commented softly, his eyes wet with bliss as he nuzzled S/O’s shoulder.

“Yuuki… are you crying?”

“That’s what happens when you look at the sun.”

“…Does that make you my moon?”

Mishima chuckled affectionately, fondly kissing their shoulder as he stated, “Yeah, I guess it does.”

Ok but I was reading the Shadowhunter codex, and Henry’s name is in there like 4 times with a huge paragraph explaining all his accomplishments and all I could think of was his face when he saw it like everyone in his life thought he and his frivolous inventions were going no where and told him that much, but there he was, outlasting them all in history. His eyes would get all wide and he’d turn to Charlotte and be like “Lottie, did you hear that?!” with this adorable awe inspired expression, even though she was standing right next to him. I’m done. Kill me now. Too much cute ashskflskalshdjska

charity-angel  asked:

Tiny Matchmakers is amazing. How frustrated/amused are Yoda and Ani going to get while Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan avoid each other?

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two were arguing.” Mace settled on, glancing between the padawan and the master.

Obi-Wan didn’t react with more then blinking at the Master of the Order while Qui-Gon raised his brows at Mace. “I was not aware that we were here to discuss personal relations, I thought were summoned to have more information given about Naboo and our actions for it?” He murmured.

“Hmm…” Mace frowned at them before nodding. “Yoda has decided that while unasked for by the Senate, further assistance to Naboo should be granted. Because of this, I am coming along. He has also agreed to take Skywalker as his padawan.”

The old troll looked at them with a small smirk.

Qui-Gon’s brows hit his hairline as he stared at the master of his master.

He then glanced at Obi-Wan who was staring at the Senate Dome and not looking at anyone else. ‘He can’t avoid me forever.’ He thought grouchily. ‘He’s going to be trapped on the ship with me to Naboo.’


“He’s avoiding him!” Anakin groaned, flopping down on the floor of the shared quarters he had with Yoda.

“Hmm, stubborn Obi-Wan has always been, a knight he now is, necessary for him to interact with Qui-Gon it is not.”

“But he loves Qui-Gon!”

“Know this we do. Hurting Obi-Wan is though. Easy for Qui-Gon this will not be.”

That got Anakin to sit up, staring at Yoda. “And it shouldn’t be easy for him, he hurt Obi-Wan a lot but I didn’t think he’d start avoiding Qui-Gon. I mean…”

“Before Obi-Wan had no choice. Now his emotions are known and a knight he is, leave Qui-Gon’s side he can.” Yoda floated a cup of tea off the table and to himself, winking at Anakin.

“…Never thought I’d see you do frivolous Force use.”

“Old I am, set in my ways, but occasionally derive from them even I do.” Yoda hummed, sipping. “Ideas for them you have?”

Anakin frowned, settling cross legged on the floor. “Well placing them on the same mission wont do. They’re professionals, they wont let their personal issues be mixed into their mission.” He hesitated. “But if they were stranded…” Anakin sighed.


“Or undercover. Forced to spend time together.”

Yoda stroked his chin at that, staring into the air before cackling and Anakin felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He had no idea Yoda could CACKLE.


“What…?” Qui-Gon stared at the council as if he couldn’t believe what was just said.

Obi-Wan outright rubbed his ears and checked for earwax. “Master Yoda, could you please repeat that?”

“Undercover as a recently married couple you will need to be for this mission.” Yoda offered serenly. “Lodgings already arranged has been. Need to reach the transport you need to, in an hour it leaves.”

Obi-Wan’s jaw dropped. “You have got to be k-”

“A problem it will be?” Yoda tilted his head.

Obi-Wan glanced to his side only to quickly look forward when blue eyes caught his. “No, no problem.” He bowed. “Excuse me, I need to go pack.”

They all watched him go and then Qui-Gon slowly turned back.

“…Master of my master, I’m saying this with all kinds of respect…but you are terrifying.”

“Helped me my padawan did. Picked out the hotel he did.” Yoda cackled, wiggling in his seat and Qui-Gon dropped his face in his hands.

“Oh dear Force…”

Fine Frenzy - Chapter 1

Pairing: Sirius Black x Marlene McKinnon
Rated: Mature (upcoming smut parts)

Fine Frenzy Masterlist

///gifs aren’t mine, credit for those who made them///

Red carpets and tapestries, golden blankets and pillows all looked muddy and black at this late hour in the common room, when even the fire went out and the only light source was as the bright moon beamed through the window. She sat on the soft couch with her legs folded under her, a half bottle of firewhisky in her lap, her fingers clutched around the bottle’s neck while she stared off and listened the loud ticking of the clock in the silent room.

Marlene glanced at her watch: it was two o’clock in the morning. She gave a long, weary sigh and slammed the alcohol on the small, round table next to the sofa before she stood up. She just leaned back to pick up her jacket from the armrest when she heard a clear voice behind her back.


She quickly turned around, seeing as Sirius was just walking down on the stairs in his light grey sweatpants with a black hoodie. She’d thought it was daytime, as his hair looked completely clean, not somebody’s who just crawled out from the bed. Only when the silvery light illuminated his face she could tell he just woke up; the narrowed, sleepy eyes gave it away.

“Marlene. Marly. Marls. Literally anything else except Marle, please.” – She answered with a monotone voice while the boy walked closer. She could see the emerging lips on his lips.


She shrugged and stepped back where the moon couldn’t light her face. “Because it’s sound like and old lady.”

He gave a short, bark-like laugh. “It isn’t.” – He said before he pointed his wand at the fireplace. – “Incendio.”

The room brightened immediately, but the sudden warm light made her growls and closes her eyes for a second.

“What? It’s really cold here and I couldn’t see that pretty face of yours.”

With a roll of her eyes, she plopped down on the couch again. Even though she didn’t really want any company, she thought Sirius frivolity maybe would be good for her. “Can’t sleep?” – She asked, looking up at him.

Sirius watched the big, glistening blue eyes with the slightly smeared makeup. There was something in her tone that he couldn’t decide what caused yet. “Lily is up in our dorm, and unlike Remus and Peter, I can’t sleep that deep.” – He sat down next to the girl, who laughed.

“Sometimes I’m really glad boys can’t come up our rooms. But you see, I think it’s still better when they couldn’t stop talking about each other.”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Lucky you. James still can’t stop talking about Lily.”

“That’s so sweet.” – She said effusively. – “I’m so happy for them.”

“Me too.” – He said quickly. – “I just loved to sleep.”

Marlene chuckled again before she stood up to fold her legs under herself again, and Sirius realized what he heard in her voice earlier. “What have you got there?”

She followed his gaze while her eyes fell on the firewhisky. Grabbing the bottle, she turned back to him. “Happy juice. Want some?”

He accepted and took a sip, not taking his eyes off her, but he didn’t ask what was bothering her. After seven years knowing Marlene, Sirius learnt she doesn’t talk about her problems or there’s something wrong, and he could understand. He didn’t like to talk about them either.

He noticed she wore a pretty, short, dark blue dress under her leather jacket. “Had a date again?”

She only nodded.

“Was it so bad?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” – She muttered under her breath, snatching the bottle out from Sirius’ hand and taking a big sip. He fell silence and let her do what she wanted.

The two of them started became good friends only at the start of the seventh year, when after the first quidditch match Marlene showed a great muggle rock band to Sirius, and he quickly realized this girl maybe much more than he’d originally thought. Because she had her own, harsh style sometimes, and Sirius have had enough of harsh people. It wasn’t really a mask; she didn’t try to show herself something else that she truly was. She just never wanted to give her heart to anybody; what was the point if people could damage it so easily? Only those whom she trusted at least a bit could see her kind, big hearted and passionate side.

Sirius also noticed Marlene went on a lot of date lately. He didn’t know how far she went with them, but he could tell none of them lasted longer than a few hours. Usually, she laughed after these days, mocking about how awful every guy was, but now there were no jokes, nor complains; she was too quiet.

At least for a time being. Sirius made her laugh and lifted her mood quickly, thought the firewhisky definitely played a big role in it. After hours of talking, joking and playing truth or dare – which was only truth or truth with cheeky and embarrassing questions – Marlene was at the top of the table, singing a song from the Ramones when somebody stormed into the common room with dishevelled hair.

“Honestly, it’s four in the morning!” – Remus shouted. – “Can you two please shut up and go to sleep already?” – They looked back at him in silence with innocent faces, trying to choke back their laughs. – “Thanks.”

“Wow.” – She whispered after Remus left them. She stepped down from the low table, but landed in Sirius’ lap. – “He’s really moody.”

“No. It’s Moony.” – He laughed, wrapping his hands around her waist, pressing his forehead against her cheek before she could’ve stood up.

“Well, I don’t know who and why started to call him like this, but you should change it. Moody is fits for him better.” – She felt as Sirius smiled against her skin, but said nothing.

Out of nowhere, a sudden drowsiness overwhelmed the both of them, but no matter how nice would’ve felt to fall asleep in Sirius’ warm hug, Marlene shifted a yawn and crawled out from his lap. It felt cold without his arms around her, so she put on her jacket that she earlier dropped on the floor.

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the backrest of the sofa. It was the first time in long hours they haven’t said anything, and the silence brought the melancholy back again for Marlene.

“I think I give up.” – She said with a raspy voice. – “Dating, I mean.”

Sirius’ eyes fluttered open and turned his head towards her. “What are you talking about?”

She sighed. “I’ve had enough. Guys see I’m pretty and they don’t care about anything else.”

He let out a tiny, almost inaudible laugh, so she continued. “I know it sounds cocky, but that’s the truth. They ask me out but none of them really want more than one night. It would be nice, you know? Some to ask me what’s my favourite flower or something.”

“Do you want guys to ask what your favourite flower is?” – Sirius asked with an amused voice.

She huffed. “It was just an example! Whatever, I’m talking to the wrong person. You also need girls for only night.” – She folded her arms and turned her head away from Sirius, but he sat closer to her.

“Marlene, no offense, but it’s your fault.”

She quickly looked back at him with angry eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you built up walls around yourself and you don’t let anyone in. Like, I know you for seven years and I only had a chance to realize how awesome you are a couple months ago. How do you expect from somebody to know that after one date, then?”

She fell silent for a few long seconds. “Well, maybe they should at least try to know me better.”

“Do you feel lonely?” – Sirius asked, surprised at even himself as he dared to ask something so personal. It felt heavier and so much more intimate when they were talking about their sexual life whilst they played truth or dare.

But Marlene answered immediately. “No, I don’t. I have amazing friends, and that’s enough, really. It’s just… now I wanted more than a one night stand, but I couldn’t get a normal relationship and it makes me feel unlovable and worthless.” – The words left her lips too fast and she stopped instantly after the last ones. She never thought she’d talk about this to anyone.

“What’s that crap? You’re everything but unlovable and worthless.” – Sirius said almost angrily. Marlene just rolled her eyes, and he sat closer again. – “Listen, if they don’t want to know you, it’s their fault, not yours. Why would you let some blokes who don’t even want to know who you really are makes you feel like this?”

She looked into his grey eyes, thinking about what he said weren’t just comforting words; he meant them, and it actually made sense. Really, why would I?

“You’re right.” – She said firmly. – “I’m gonna have fun and I won’t care about any stupid boys ever again. It’s their loss.”

“Now, that’s the Marlene I know.” – He laughed and messed up her hair.

She giggled softly before she stood up slowly; as the alcohol still affected her limbs her moves wasn’t so steady yet. “We should go to sleep. There’s a quidditch match tomo – I mean, today.”

“I forgot.” – Sirius growled and followed the girl. – “See you at the after party, I guess?”

“Sure.” – She gushed, eyes widened in excitement, completely forgot about the hangover will definitely make her to do anything but going to a party. – “I still have another bottle of firewhisky in the depths of my trunk.”

They vanished the empty glasses and walked across the room together, saying good nights, but Sirius turned back before he stepped on the stairs. “So what is your favourite flower?”

She frowned but smiled. “Dandelions.”

He cocked an eyebrow and watched her disappearing behind the girl’s dorm’ door, not sure if she was joking or not.

Guardians of the Galaxy and Narrative Structure
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There’s a lot to love about Guardians of the Galaxy Vol.2, but what pulled me in was how intertwined all the character arcs were. Each character had room to shine and grow, as well as moving the plot forward. None of it felt bloated or needless.

But I want to talk about a few of my favourite aspects of the movie.

***Spoilers Below***


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Yondu is the core of GotG2. The entire plot revolves around him, although it might not seem like it.

The relationship between Peter Quill and Ego (his celestial dad) occupies a lot of this movie. But I think its real value is in how it builds up the relationship Peter had with Yondu. With Ego, Peter starts to fulfill all his idealizations of what a father/son relationship is like, and in that it is a manipulative relationship in its too-perfect-to-be-real nature.

Yondu, on the other hand, is the hardass that threatened to eat Peter. Their relationship is the complete opposite of what Peter experiences with Ego. But Yondu is the one that was trying to protect him, and is the one that ultimately sacrifices himself for Peter, whereas Ego wants Peter to be sacrificed for him.

Yondu loses something to protect Peter, his reputation. His treatment and ultimate betrayal by the Ravagers is all because of his initial instinct to do right by Star-Lord. Ego is again on the opposite end, he takes something away from Peter, his mother. Though Yondu is a curmudgeony hardass, he gives to Peter as best he can, while the charismatic Ego takes from Peter as much as he can.

It’s a story about father and son, but without Yondu it would’ve only been half a story. Star-Lord pines for the perfect father/son relationship, so much so that he overlooks the one he had with Yondu. Yondu is the real, messy version of parenthood (with a space pirate twist), Ego is the larger than life pile of bullshit.


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Rocket in GotG2 is starting to push his friends away, not because he wants them to leave him but because he’s falling into a defense mechanism. When he meets up with Yondu, this comes to a head. Yondu, being older, knows exactly what Rocket is doing and sees right through it. Rocket, after this, sees some of himself in Yondu. And there’s fear there, because Yondu has been cast aside by his Ravager crew, and that’s what Rocket is afraid his friends will do to him. It’s only when Yondu dies, and the Ravagers show up to his funeral to respect his memory, that Rocket realizes he doesn’t need to be afraid of dying alone in obscurity, because his friends won’t ditch him as long as he does the right thing, just like Yondu.

This is a great example of how the two character arcs are woven together. It comes off as though they’re just meeting up for some adventure, but heir meetup is necessary for their growth and the final moments in the memorial scene. It’s another reason I think Yondu is the heart of this movie, because his story intersects meaningfully with both Star-Lord’s and Rocket’s arcs.

“When in doubt, have a man come through a door with a gun in his hand.”

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The gold people (I can’t remember their name, but I like calling ‘em the “gold people”) just kept coming back. In any other movie, they would’ve been relegated to a ten minute goof at the movie’s beginning, and then forgotten. Here, they are a constant threat, moving the story forward with each appearance. Their repeated failures even have long lasting consequences for the Marvel cinematic universe. Some reviewers thought they were a frivolous addition, but I think they added a lot to the movie and were a good way of propelling the story forward.

Nebula, much like the gold people, just kept coming back. But in her case, she had a close tie to Gamora, and their family conflict is integrated into the action, so that not only does Nebula act as a man-with-a-gun, but as development for her and Gamora’s relationship—as well as insight into what an asshat Thanos is.

Drax and Mantis have a similar function, but from the other end of the spectrum. Instead of conflict, they get along and learn about each other through comradery. Mantis, in a way, mirrors Ego’s disarming nature. And as we’re getting to know Mantis, we’re also learning that she’s hiding something. It’s her building relationship with Drax that pushes her to tell the truth. She’s both being developed as a character, building upon Drax’s character, and providing a revelation to the overall plot. (Also, Mantis is just dang cool.)


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All of these threads come together to be about family and forgiveness. Forgiveness that’s earned through mutual respect (Ego doesn’t get a free pass for being a blood relative). Rocket, Yondu, Star-Lord, and Gamora and Nebula all fall into this theme. Each woven into separate threads that come together to a singular thematic point. Even when one of the plot threads has to go careening through warp space to get from one solar system to another.

No movie is perfect, and GotG2 has its flaws, but man, I really loved it.


“Please concentrate. I need you to be as precise as possible.”

Sakura tried to neaten her posture, but it was already perfect.

“I didn’t know she was following me until she spoke.” Sasuke was perfectly professional. His hands probably weren’t clammy at all. “I couldn’t visually follow the movement she made.”

“With Sharingan?”

The Sandaime might have been the slightest bit incredulous.

Sasuke’s jaw was a little tenser. “Yes, Sandaime-sama. With the Sharingan.” He adjusted his footing every so slightly. “The suspect collided with Gaara-san, and then as far as I could tell, both disappeared.”

“Indeed.” He tapped his fingers on the desk just once. “Please repeat once more her words, with tone and body language as you remember them.”

Sasuke dutifully repeated the conversation for the second time, though this time he neglected to mention that she had mussed his hair afterwards. That was a shame, because it was the best part, as far as she was concerned. Was his hair cute that way?

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Saxophone Boy- Taehyung(m)

Originally posted by kths

(m)- mature | word count: 4400 | BFF!Tae | <33

You don’t need a written label to read between the lines..

reqs: can you do one with taehyung where you’re taking a really long time in the shower, he comes in and you’re pleasuring yourself? (+) Smut/fluff with daddy v? (+) Hey I was wondering can request a taehyung X best friend smut pleaseeee

a/n: finally another tae smut!!! it’s been a long time cumming so please enjoy:)

One more minute. He thinks with growing agitation, just one more and I’m barging in to see what the hell is taking her so long. At this point it’d been a half hour since he walked through the door, and an extra fifteen since you said you were going to take a “quick” shower before he arrived. So forty five minutes, forty-five minutes is how long you’d been in there, forty five minutes of wasting water on that tiny little body of yours.

Taehyung paces the small expanse of your living room, already having queued up the anime and snacks for the moment you were ready. But as those moments turned into long minutes his mind had started to wander from itself, maybe you drowned. Maybe you hit your head or maybe a mermaid had swam up from the drain and kidnapped you. Maybe you just came up with other plans and didn’t want to see him…

But that couldn’t be true, the two of you were two peas in a pod, best friends, you always wanted to see him and he always wanted to see you. That’s just how things are even though they didn’t always feel that way.

Sometimes, when your hand wandered a little too low when you were rubbing his stomach, or your shirt was a little too thin for the cold weather, the idea of more than friends would emerge from within his thoughts. But after being together, and only in one way for so long, how could he ever admit that he dreamt about the way you sounded late at night? Or that whenever he ate something sweet he thought about how you smelt… how you would taste…

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"You are too old, children," said Aslan, "and you must begin to come close to your own world now." – The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Ok let’s talk about the ending of the Chronicles of Narnia. Let’s talk about the all-round, screwed-up mess of a conclusion for the Pevensie children. A conclusion that actually had so much potential but was never given enough focus to even touch the surface of what the deaths of these children meant.

Let’s talk about how The Last Battle ends with the Pevensie’s returning to Narnia forever. They don’t care that they’ve died in our world because they get to stay in Narnia. Narnia. Forever. And from their happiness it’s clear that Narnia is all they’ve wanted. Narnia and home and their lives there. That’s all. That’s it.

Except…Except Aslan told them to return to this world. Hell, more than told them. He ripped them out of Narnia by force and thrust them back through the wardrobe, while their other grown-up lives fell away and they were left clinging to memories in their shaking hands because they had nothing else left.

So these shell-shocked, grieving children-who-were-not-children desperately reassembled the remains of their old lives. With crying. With swearing. With nightmares and loneliness and despair. Until Aslan yanked them back to Narnia again to show them their fallen, broken land. Show them hollowed pieces of their old palace. He didn’t even tell them what had happened to Narnia. He made them figure out alone – slowly and torturously – that the ruins they stood in were their old home. That every one of their friends was dead. That everything they’d built and fought for and bled for and achieved was gone.

Then Aslan exiles these children back to “That other place. England.” again and explicitly tells them they’re too old for Narnia now and they need to find him in their own world. He tells them not to cling to Narnia, not to remain lost in the past but make their own lives in our world. They’re staying here permanently, here’s where they belong and will grow up for good.

But a couple of years after Lucy and Edmund place that framed picture back on the wall, Aslan kills them and returns them to Narnia forever.

Imagine it. Just for a minute. Imagine these 4 children recovering from their loss. Years of acclimatizing to this world. Years of adjusting to being adults in children’s bodies. Years to figure out their place here. (If there’s a place for them here). Years to carve out these lives Aslan so blithely told them to build. Maybe they’d just reached the point where they were able to put down roots. When their peers were catching up with them. When their minds of adults, minds of twenty-something, almost, almost matched their bodies.

And then the lion took it all away, and took them back to the place they never asked to leave in the first place.

Screw you Aslan. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to shuttle them between worlds, rip away one life, order them to build another, then destroy that one too. If you really wanted the Pevensie children to live in our world –properly live – then you wouldn’t have destroyed those lives as they finally began.

And of course you have Susan. Susan the one Pevensie who truly completely builds a life in our world. Who goes to parties and makes friends and travels and dates and talks of this world as something permanent. In Narnia she was the queen who held court at Cair Paravel, seeing suitors from every land. In England she tries to find that. She wears nylon and lipstick because gowns and crowns aren’t sold in London shops. She flirts with young men because there are no princes for a normal girl. She goes to parties because there aren’t any balls in living rooms.

She has a life. The others may have thought it shallow and frivolous, but she built it. Unlike her siblings – talking of Narnia, remembering Narnia, dreaming of Narnia – she becomes part of this world again.

Just like Aslan told her to.

And yes Aslan didn’t just tell her to build a new life. He told her to find him again, seek him out in England as she knew him in Narnia. Susan Pevensie doesn’t do that.

But then, why should she? Aslan gave her a life and ripped it away. Then he showed her everything she lost. (That her kingdom had fallen, that her palace was rotting stone, that her friends were gone) He told her to make something new.

So she did.

But she won’t depend on him again. Why should she build her new life around a force that can never be trusted? Why should Aslan be the foundation of her world when he can pull out from under her at any hour?  Why should she make the same mistake twice?

(And she’s right, because her siblings build their lives around Aslan and look where it gets them – bodies broken across the train-tracks; skin mutilated beyond recognition, never allowed to live the lives Aslan told them to.)

And Susan suffers for that decision. Oh god does she suffer. Identifying the bodies of her brothers and sister and parents and cousin and friends? Living utterly alone in the world? That is suffering. It would have been easier not to build a new life. To be like her siblings and keep Aslan as the centre of her world. To have just waited to go return to Narnia.

But she didn’t. Because Aslan’s instructions never made sense and the best the Pevensies could do was guess. Do we rebuild or are we meant to mourn Narnia forever? Susan Pevensie did the best with what orders she had. And she chose wrong.

And because of that she didn’t fit into Aslan’s design. She didn’t return to her old world and obediently but half-heartedly rebuild a new life, always clinging to him and to Narnia so when she lost that new life too it didn’t matter because it wasn’t worth anything anyway. No. She rebuilt – properly, completely, without the great lion – and she couldn’t be dragged back anymore.

And she suffered for that but you know what? Susan Pevensie had a life. She had a world. She wasn’t cut short before she grew up. (Again.) She had the life her siblings never got. And the crappiest thing of all is Aslan was the one who told her to build that life in the first place.

Just my addition to the “Qrow being Ruby’s father” pot

He sees her hunching over herself, trying to make herself as small as possible- trying to will herself to be invisible. It’s so familiar, he thinks, as he watches her try to hide herself from Glynda’s gaze with her hair. The guilty, kicked-puppy look that he still finds incredibly endearing, and completely useless in its intentions. An atmosphere of confusion and innocent fear that brings Ozpin back to times long forgotten- simpler times.

Before Ozpin is Ruby Rose, and the sight of her conjures the image of someone who used to be no more than a child, troublesome and headstrong. Sometimes he wonders if that person, will ever find the chance to live so preciously again- in this world or the next.

As he takes his seat across from her, her gaze flicks up in surprise to him and he steels himself to meet the gaze of a ghost.

But instead, he falters.

“Ruby Rose…” She blinks up at him expectantly.

“You have silver eyes?” he confirms to himself.

Why yes, of course, silver eyes like her mother- the dearly departed Summer. Genetics perfectly explain why this child’s eyes shine like a finely sharpened sword. So why is he so stupefied by her curious gaze?

It is because he does not need to ask why Ruby Rose’s eyes are silver.

He asks himself why they are not red.

“Oh Qrow…” he mourns to himself as the young girl tells him naively of her talented “sister” and dusky “uncle”. “What have you done?”

You see, when Ozpin met Ruby Rose, he was not expecting a specter of her mother, the once gentle Summer Rose.

He was awaiting something much more startling: the image of her father, or at least what he used to be- confident and virtuous- happy.

Ozpin was hoping to once again see the lost smile of Qrow Branwen.

Of course she would be in just the right place at just the right time.
Qrow always had a knack for getting his nose into things he shouldn’t have.

Silently, Ozpin wishes Ruby was more like Summer. Perhaps then she would have stayed in the ballroom with her friends, laughing and enjoying the short time they all have together.

Perhaps then she would’ve been spared the confusion of this whole event.
But of course, she’s too much like her father, and craves the soft silence of solitude, even if only for just a moment. Sometimes the world grows much too loud for people like them. They must remind themselves that life is actually quite hushed in its tones.

Perhaps that’s why his dear friend holds his liquor so closely. After all that he’s seen, all that he’s heard, it must be too easy for his thoughts to be overwhelmed by frivolous white noise. Ozpin knows all to well the burning liquid does wonders to shut out the rest of the world.

Ozpin considers purchasing Qrow some headphones.

She’s just like him, he ponders, as she interacts with her teammates. She’s so sure in their abilities, so ready to believe they’re unstoppable. Of course she’d choose a mission so dangerous. Glynda would surely scold him if he allowed them to travel to Mountain Glenn.

If she were like her mother, she would calmly tell her team it’s simply too dangerous, but perhaps they could try later- when they’re stronger. But he knows the truth.

He knows that Ruby would only find another way to the south if she were forbade to go, possibly more dangerous, just as Qrow would.

He allows them to take the mission.

The image before him breaks his heart more than it already was after all the years of hardship. He is suddenly overwhelmed with the tragedy that is the relationship laid in front of him.

He wonders, though, which half of the pair has the saddest role?

Is it Ruby, forever unaware of the blood she shares with her “Uncle”, even as she dangles excitedly from his arm, straining it with her weight? (Qrow, of course, using all his might to keep her aloft despite an injury)

Or is it Qrow, having to force himself to maintain a façade against his most precious creation, his own daughter? How hard it must be for him to look into those silver eyes and try to will him self to pretend they had never existed in a previous soul, one that he loved so preciously.

Or perhaps, the role belongs to Ozpin, the witness, who must wonder if he is the only that sees they have the same playful gleam in their eyes. Is he the only one that notices they both shrink just a bit when scolded? Or that they share identical dust-eating grins?

Perhaps he has just lived so long that he’s developed the ability to pinpoint the same wrinkles around the eyes, the duplicate crooked teeth, and the twin unkempt nests that is their obsidian-colored hair.

Indeed, Ozpin knows there are more similarities between them than just their weapons and their cloaks. And maybe, just maybe, if Ruby’s eyes were the same proud red that the Branwen family boasts, everyone else would see the precious tie between them as well.

But as he calls to Qrow, and the father and daughter look to him with near identical expressions of puzzlement, Ozpin wonders if Qrow prefers Ruby’s eyes to be their soft gunmetal coloring.

That way those who meet her are flooded with the memory of a gentle girl with a white hood- instead of the boy who left her behind to fight the monsters found in human nature rather then story books.

How Not to Learn Polish - A Love in Exile Drabble

This is a little drabble I wrote for @sheepskeleton as thanks for the wonderful art of Victor that she did, which was inspired by a conversation we had. 

Being fellow history nerds, she and I have talked a lot about the historical context of Love In Exile, and one of the things we talked about was Victor’s relationship with Ignacy Hryniewiecki, who is a real historical figure and something of a Polish national hero. She pointed out to me that Victor having learned Polish from Ignacy (which Victor tells Yuuri he did in Chapter 2) was actually something of a political statement, as at the time Polish culture and language was being actively and ferociously quashed by the Russian Empire. 

Intrigued by this idea I wrote this (rather smutty) drabble for her, which almost killed her due to how terrible the initial Polish was. She has corrected all of it and I now present it to you here as an amusing perk of following the LIE blog (though you are welcome to reblog and share it). 

Be warned this is NSFW and most will be under a cut. 

“Za naszą i waszą wolność.”

He says the words like a lover’s sigh in my ear, soft and low, as his fingertip caress over my hip. But these are not a lover’s words.

I crack one eye open. “Since when have words of revolution become acceptable pillow talk?”

“Since you climbed into bed with a revolutionary,” he says with a chuckle. He nips my ear.

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Fanfiction: Alone, But Not Lonely

Title:  Alone, But Not Lonely

Author:  MoustachioPenguin

Rating:  T+

Word Count:  14k

Pairing:  NijiAka

Summary:  Sometimes, Akashi wishes his father would pat his head and tell him, ‘I’m proud of you.’  All Akashi wants is to feel important; all he aspires to do is make his father proud.  It’s a shame Akashi falls short every time.

Warnings:  Obscure/Fragmented storytelling, open ending, abusive relationship between parent and child


Whenever Akashi hears an airplane overhead, he finds that he always looks up.  His steady steps still no matter where he is or where he’s going, and for some time he’ll just stare listlessly.

His father chides him for this pointless habit he’s developed.  Akashi apologizes, but never stops despite his efforts.  Oftentimes he’ll wonder what makes the distraction so attractive.  Akashi doesn’t particularly like the sound of planes’ engines, nor does he find any beauty in the contrails the planes leave behind. 

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Josh Dun x Reader : Dinner Date

A/N: a huge thanks to all of you guys for the response to both the josh dun chipotle fic and the brendon urie persicope predicament fic! it blew my mind when i saw how many people liked it! as you all probably know, i’m new to tumblr and i’m still figuring stuff out. this one’s a continuation of the josh dun chipotle fic, thanks to @totallybitchynerd on tumblr for the request of a second part to this fic, and also to @emoxxtrash on tumblr for teaching me what an ask box was. now you guys can request fics more easily! i love you all and a huge thanks! i’m going to shut up now and let you read the fic…

*this is a continuation of Josh Dun x Reader : First Day at Chipotle (link:

You tied off your apron and took off your hat, placing them on the nightstand in your room, taking a deep breath and checking your phone for the millionth time today. You’ve been waiting for a text or a call, anything really, from the boy you had just met earlier today. Josh Dun had changed your life, even if you had just met him. You couldn’t get him out of your mind, his smile, his voice, his laugh, his eyes, everything about that boy just drove you crazy. You started to wish that maybe he was the one who would’ve given you his number instead. You took the concert ticket he had given you out of your pocket, staring at it and grinning, reminiscing the couple minutes you had spent together earlier today. He had said that he liked you! Well, in a strange kind of way. Either way, he had given you a ticket to his concert and told you he had something for you later, which you were still curious about. That’s when your phone rang, and although it was a number you had never seen before, you picked up almost immediately, taking a deep breath and then greeting the caller happily. “Hi this is y/n,” you announced.

“Hey,” a voice responded. But it wasn’t just any voice. It was his voice. Josh Dun.

“Hello,” you replied, a goofy grin spread across your face.

“It’s Josh,” he explained. “You know? The Chipotle guy?’

"Who? I think you have the wrong person,” you joked.

“Haha, you’re funny,” he laughed. “So do you think you can make it to the show tonight?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded eagerly.

“That’s great. I really want you to introduce you to my friend, Tyler. I’ve been telling him all about you,” he answered. “And I want to take you out to eat maybe, after the show. To get to know you better.”

“That sounds amazing,” you gasped. “I’d love to.”

“Cool,” he remarked. “So I’ll see you then?”

“Definitely,” you reassured.

“I wish I could talk to you longer, but we’re starting sound check soon, so I got to go. Just after the show’s done, text me and I’ll come find you. Got it?” he decided.

“Sounds good. Thank you,” you tried your best not to giggle. Was this really happening?

“It’s my pleasure,” Josh replied, and he disconnected the call, you staring at your phone and smiling.

It took your almost two hours just to decide which outfit to wear, and then about another fifteen minutes trying to rearrange your hair, and then you had to figure out which shoes to put on also. Almost every decision you contemplated for a long period of time, unsure and doubting whether or not Josh would like it. You finally decided on something simple, letting your hair down, wearing your favorite shoes. Maybe the saying was right, you thought as you looked in the mirror, less is more. You drove in your car, the ticket in your pocket, nervously tapping your thumbs on the steering wheel, anxious to go see him. You hadn’t been to a lot of concerts before, and you weren’t the party or crowd type, but it seemed like fun and you were excited to see Josh, so you didn’t hesitate going. When you got there, you passed security, showed them your ticket, and that’s when you realized what seat you had gotten. It was front row, right by the barricade, directly in front of Josh’s drum set. You smiled to yourself, thinking what a lucky girl you were, how this was probably not just a coincidence.

When the boys got on stage, you could see Josh scanning the crowd for your face, and they started playing music, but you could tell Josh was sort of distracted. Was he looking for you? You shook your head, trying to focus on the music, and mostly Josh, instead of frivolous thoughts and concerns. They played some really good songs, and you almost cried during some really emotional parts, but it was during your favorite song that Josh finally locked eyes with you, his face breaking out into a huge grin, and you knew he saw you. You waved, and he nodded back, and you were sure he had seen your face. You had a good time, even finding yourself chanting for an encore when they were off stage, and when they came back, your eyes were fixed on Josh the entire time, watching him play the drums with a passion and energy that you had never seen before. You really did like him, even if you had just met him today. There was something very special and magical about that boy that made him stand out, different, almost better than all the rest.

The show finished, and you frowned, knowing that it was over, but that’s when you felt something buzz in your pocket, and you remembered that you still had to go see Josh. You pulled out your phone, and he had sent you a text saying that it would be a couple minutes before he could get you, but to wait by a certain door. You sent back an okay, and then waited where he had told you to go, nervously biting your fingernails and trying not to get too frazzled. Was what you were wearing okay to go out to dinner? Did you go too crazy during the show? Was he going to not like you? That’s when a security guy came towards you, and you almost walked away, scared you were going to get in trouble, but he just smiled and waved. “Hey, are you y/n?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” you responded.

“Cool. Josh told me I was supposed to take you to the dressing room,” he explained. “I’m a security guard, don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” you smiled. You didn’t expect this to happen. You followed the security guard down a couple of hallways, and then finally to a room.

“Here you go, stay out of trouble, keep the boys in line,” the security guard teased.

“I will,” you chuckled.

You knocked on the door, and when it opened, Tyler came face to face with you. “Hey Josh!” he smirked. “Your girlfriend is here to see you.”

“Y/n!” you heard Josh shout from afar, and he raced to the door, and hugged you tight, his arms wrapped around you and catching you by surprise. You hadn’t expected a hug, but he felt so strong and you felt so safe and comfortable in his arms, as if nothing could go wrong. He released the embrace, and then stepped back, grinning at you. You smiled back. You had to stop from staring at him. He was now wearing a gray sweatshirt, black ripped jeans, sneakers, and he looked really handsome. Sure, he looked amazing on stage too, and at Chipotle. Well, he always looks amazing, no matter what he’s wearing, no matter where he is.

“Hey Josh,” you laughed. “I missed you.”

“He missed you too,” Tyler told you.

“Shut up,” Josh rolled his eyes. “Come in, there’s a couch over there. You want a Red Bull?”

“Sure,” you nodded. He handed you one, and you popped open the tab, taking a long sip.

“What did you think of the show?” he wondered.

“It was great! I loved it!” you responded. “Especially the drummer, what was his name again? Joe? James? Jake?”

“I think it was Josh,” Tyler corrected.

“I was joking,” you explained.

“Oh,” Tyler sighed. “Well, I’m going to leave Romeo alone with Juliet for a couple minutes. Don’t do anything when I’m gone. I’ll keep my eye on you two.” Tyler squinted his eyes at both of us, and we laughed. “Josh is mine.”

“Okay, don’t worry,” you sighed. “He’s all yours.”

“Good,” Tyler crossed his arms. “Don’t forget that.”

“Go run along and find Jenna or something,” Josh shooed him out the door. “You have better things to do than tease y/n.”

“Maybe I will,” Tyler shrugged, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him, and Josh turned to you, a smile on his face.

“Hey, I forgot to thank you for the Chipotle earlier today, it was great. For your first day on the job, I think you did superb,” he complimented.

“Thanks,” you blushed.

“So? What do you say? Dinner?” he asked.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you nodded. “But I do believe you’re forgetting something?”

“Am I?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yup. You told me you had something for me after the show,” you reminded.

“Oh, how could I forget?” Josh shook his head. “I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” you defended.

“Yeah, I almost forgot!” Josh groaned.

“Forgot what?” you inquired.

“I forgot to give you this,” Josh explained. He put a hand behind your head, bringing your close, and kissed you softly on your lips, quick but just long enough to be perfect. He moved away, a grin on his face, and you were almost sure you had turned completely red.

“That, um, that was…” you stammered. “Wow.”

“You liked that?” he raised his eyebrows.

“I loved it,” you smiled.

“Well there’s more in store if you stick around a little longer,” he tilted his head to the side.

“Then I’m a fool not to stay,” you laughed.

“So… Dinner?” Josh wondered.

“Dinner it is,” you nodded. You stood up, drinking the rest of your Red Bull, and then tossing it in the trash. Josh’s hand found yours, and you were holding hands as you walked out of the dressing room, down the hallway, to whatever fancy place Josh had picked out.

“Where are you two going?” Tyler interrogated when he caught you two trying to sneak out of the arena.

“We’ll be back soon, I promise,” Josh explained. “Give us about an hour or two.”

“Don’t forget,” Tyler whispered. “I’m watching you two.”

“We know, we know,” you rolled your eyes. Tyler winked at Josh and then walked away, leaving you and Josh there, walking out the door and underneath the night sky. You looked up at them in awe, gazing at the constellations. “The stars are beautiful tonight.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Josh quickly added.

“You’re amazing Josh,” you sighed, walking to his car.

“You too, y/n,” he smiled. You gave him a kiss on the cheek and then he opened the door for you, ushering you in. You sat down, leaning back, thinking how lucky you were to be here, with Josh Dun, just the two of you and nobody else holding you back. Josh opened his door, sliding in the driver’s seat, sliding the keys in the ignition.

“I like your car,” you told him. “Especially the stereo.” You gazed at the set up he had installed, almost begging for him to play something, anything, just so you could hear how it worked.

“How about we listen to some music?” he suggested, reaching his hand into the glove box and happening to pull out your favorite album of all time.

“Absolutely,” you agreed. He popped the disc in and the first track played, both of your faces breaking out into huge smiles. You started to think that you and Josh would be together for a very long time, and there was a certain feeling in the atmosphere that confirmed that what you were thinking was very right. Maybe it was the way he had one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your knee, the way you both belted out the words at the top of your lungs, how you would gaze into each other’s eyes when you were stopped at the red light. Everything he did made you fall in love with him, and you couldn’t wait for more nights like this.