#i know the rom got leaked so people were still playing it early but

[hebezunet]

my copy of sonic frontiers is out for delivery NOW >:D

[muffindaddystyles]

Summary: Y/N's feeling icky about her body, but Harry loves her to bits and pieces, through thick and thin, in health and sick — and he always waits for her to come back to him.

TW: Body dysmorphia.

Y/N's healthy.

All she sucks in is having a sane sleeping schedule due to her UNI otherwise she eats natural goodies, cook and bake home because it comforts her more that way and she works out every evening to stay fit.

Sometimes though, she’s lazy and lacks behind which’s proper humane but deep down it effects her and her mental health more than she admits and she isn’t able to start over again – it mostly happens after her periods.

Harry loves her the way she’s.

Even if she’s clumsy, bumbling, procrastinating, overly enthusiastic to mend her life at 3 am, snotty and sloth-y in her periods, confident and positive around people, kind and loving whenever she comes to meet him, whiny and cuddly when she’s sick, jealous and grumpy with his attention not on her —- he loves her in every way possible, to rivers and to sea his love could never stutter for her ever.

He loves how she’s not overly toned, having soft squishy spots which Harry undeniably wants to admire and kiss shamelessly amount of times -- like -- her plummy pretty thighs that Harry likes to nestle his head in-between making her wriggle and squirm under his grasp, her overly cute tummy that Harry dies to pepper sweet adoring kisses and petal his lips round her belly button, everytime they’re cuddled up his bicep’s always looped her around her tummy to feel it rising up and down in calm rhythm, and oh! her tender titties, they’re actually his favourite babies and he loves to fondle them in his big calloused palms brushing his thumb over the sensitive perky nub and basks in the glittery whimpery mewls of hers.

He loves that she’s curvy and gives zero fucks if she’s skinny or not.

He thinks his baby’s perfect.

So perfect he actually feels the bubbling of devotion and affection filling to the brim of his heart’s chambers and leaking out and upon his ribs tickling him.

Y/N's his person and he worships her with his whole heart.

From some days though, she’s feeling devastatingly insecure about all her things Harry’s in love with and she has no-control over it how much she tries.

Harry’s observing that all with optimism (one of his great quality's that like a lion sly about his prey, he keeps an eye on everything but pretends otherwise). He has his intense gaze fixed on her when she’s taking a look of herself in the mirror for rather too long, running her hands down her body and practically shuddering.

He glances from over his laptop and drops everything he's doing watching her go monkies, sweating buckets and over exercising than her usual time.

He brings her closer and infront of him, pressing her to his chest and coiling his forearm around her shoulders whining a, “Baby..!” when they were brushing their teeth and despite of standing beside him and teasing him occasionally like she usually does she stuffs her face into the crest of his back and hides herself there to have minimal contact with her reflection in the mirror.

Her body dysmorphia spiking dangerously high.

“Deprived me of your cuddles. woke me up so early, granny.” She huffs lying through her teeth and how much his embrace was strong enough to keep her in place she still managed to wiggle out taking her previous cosy position, but he could feel her muscles tensing and an awkward silence falling over them.

He didn’t pry much. He wants to give her as much space as she requires to come back to him hale and hearty, as she always does and whatever happens he never forgets to remind her how much he loves her every night.

..

They were watching rom-coms on Netflix back to back with her curled up into his side with a spongy white wool knitted blanket thrown over them and his cheek was smashed atop her head popping in peanuts every now and then when out of certain she spoke pointing at the actress, “You know she got her ribs removed to get that shrinky waist.” Harry frowned at that. His face itching into disbelief and concern under the bouncing glow of telly.

He affixes his gaze down at her trying to read what’s cooking up in that genius brain of her's which isn’t being very rational and genius right now, they immediately turns soft and caring when she blinks up at him purely.

She squeaks, nose crashing against his collarbones when he scooches her up in his lap grabbing onto her knees to make her straddle his torso and he grumbles cutely when she tries not put all of her weight on him and doesn’t melts into him as his sweet lovie would used to do receiving a smack on her bum on his end.

He’s afraid that an evil version of her chomped onto his dear baby alive.

“Nothing else matters if all ye’ organs are packed safely and healthily inside you,” He tells her brushing loose frays of her hair behind her earlobe and rubs his thumb in gentle strokes over her treacly pulsing point, “Was just telling you ...” She mumbles, dotting touches on his knuckles and playing with his bare cold fingers.

It’s true, she was rambling out facts about the movie and cast out of habit because no-way she’d ever go through any surgeries to change herself to become someone she isn’t.

“Swear!” She yawps out in convincing high pitch when Harry squints down at her with his lips scrunched, one eye twitching in doing so.

“Alrighty. I believe you.” He cradles her cheeks in his palms and brings her mighty close to him to peck her cupid bow, then her bottom lip and the corners of her smiling mouth to suckle generous amount of whines from her and then kisses her lovingly – hands streaming down her spine and then resting atop her dip.

He thought she was ready to come back to him, to share her problem with him and Harry really wanted to bug in, to not let her fight her battle alone and take half of her hardships from her fretting self but guess not.

They were about to have sex when panic seeped in Y/N's eyes and her cheeks blazed up in that of embarrassment as she rushed to switch off the lamps that were the only source of light in their room.

“Moppet.” Harry sighed, knowing exactly what’s happening and she isn’t as foxy in covering it up as she’s thinking herself to be.

“Why wouldn’t y'want me t'see gorgeous self of yours?” His tone punctured and hurt, feeling useless for not knowing how to cheer her up and break her worries down. He smoothens his hands behind her to lock his arm around her waist, fingertips making grape sized indents into the flesh of her hip-bone as she streaks the tip of her nose up and down the crook of his neck, murmuring meekly against his salty skin while he hugs her warmly.

“’M just feelin’ shy.” He giggles at her response puckering his lips against her hairline to pet tiny, tiny kisses there as she fists her hands against his taught chest.

“Not somethin’ I haven’t seen before, love bug.” He blows raspberries against the underside of her jaw and their mouths meet into a messy, giggling, teeth clanking kiss when she sinks into pillows allowing him to cocoon her in his heat.

“I love you, Y/N. No matter what.”

.

The last dam breaker for them was this little get together at Sarah and Mitch's baby shower.

She matched her outfit with Harry. Cute lavender coloured little sweater blouse that was familiar to the baggy baby yarn cardigan Harry was wearing, it accentuated her curves and her bosom so prettily -- her midriff peeking from where the buttons weren’t closed and their jeans were painted (they did it themselves one Sunday when it was extra boring and inactive).

Y/N felt uncomfortable in her own clothes. A bitterness spreading inside her for herself and all she wanted was to escape away from her own skin.

She knows she’s loved and welcomed and cherished by her friends and family and the love of her life, most importantly. Then why was she feeling so icky about herself? Why everything's draining her and exhausting her?

Harry obviously could see through the gloomy tenebrous energy overshadowing her as he stood in the corner of the room grabbing the sorbet he poured in two glasses for them.

A sour guzzle of tears choking his throat and his limbs weakening letting the painful heartbreak seep into him when he watches her being fidgety and fiddling with the loops of her jeans, tugging her blouse every passing second and he’s sniffling a hiccup deep in his lungs when she shrinks into herself in dejection staring out of the window without any purpose.

Harry feels awful to startle her when he plops down beside her, coodling her closer to himself and tucks her head beneath his chin subtly and cups his palm under her jaw to make her look in eyes his eyes.

“Hi beautiful,” His tone had a saddening waver in it and his irises mossed bleak when Y/N remains unresponsive, zoning in and out of her own head feeling herself prisoned into her own invasive thoughts.

“You w'na go home darling?” He gives her a wet smile clearing his throat and blinking the stubborn moisture in his eyes away when Y/N nodded without any vivid expression.

All the way back home he denounced himself of not making her feel loved enough, to not to pest her soon about what she’s feeling and letting her slide deeper into the dark hole.

He thinks he’s a piece of shit.

.

Y/N wanted to dig the earth with her own nails and hide into it and never show her face again, she was overly ashamed of herself.

His hand was holding onto hers tightly, never letting it go as he led them through the hallway and his head perked up in confusion when she stopped them abruptly and lunged to wrap herself around him like he’s the last silver of her hope and the reason to live.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” There comes the first sob after ages of suffering and bottling it all in, not shocked at all he was expecting it to happen. Gently he picks her up and wraps her legs around him, keeping his support firm under her bum as she cried into his soft white t-shirt.

Carefully he sits them on the edge of the bed and tries to pry her soaky flushed face in his cradle but she refuses to show him, clutching onto his cardigan and whimpering brokenly.

“I just feel so disgusting,” Her sob scratches out of her throat and for a second he thought he heard her wrong, that her feeble crying’s playing some kind of a sick game with his heart.

“Harry do something I don’t want to feel disgusting.” But, when she pleaded helplessly a cold shiver settled in his bone marrow spreading an agonising burn in his stomach.

Gently he stirs her away from his chest to look at her, meeting their foreheads together while his thumb wiped her tears away and smoothed over her wabbly lips in profound tenderness.

“My beloved,” He whispers fondling his nose against hers and her eyes flutters into realm of calms, shaky breath falling over his lips as he brings her trembling fingertips towards them and pecks them feverishly.

“The love of me life, me heart.” He continues, “Shhh. Shh baby ‘s okay to cry but don’t tire y'self.” He hushes her when she whimpers loudly at his coy affirmation.

“I’m here with you, waiting f'you, watching y’goin’ through a stony path so I could be there to hold you whenever you trip –-,” He pets her hair, cupping the back of her neck to plant his lips bitten red from worry to her puffy damp eyelids and Y/N becomes a gooey lax of candle that’s been burning for tiring amount and finally her lover came to blew the agonising flame away putting her to peace as he coos snuggling her in his cordial embrace, “You’ve been so strong to yourself and ‘m so proud of me baby.”

“I’m always here. Never away from you, always right by y'side.” His palms bending around her ribs to smush her as intimately close as possible.

“How d'ya want your huggies babylove?” He simpers down at her darlingly, huffing out in relief seeing her relaxing -- her shoulders sinking from him massaging the knots in them.

“Tight.” She mumbles timidly. The gleam in her glossy eyes returning when Harry hugs her as she wished, squishing her in right places and not suffocating her at all – their breaths in sync chests flushed against eachother.

“I love you cuddly, and care f’you.” He kisses her on lips then goes to hug her right back.

“I love you too, Har. Thank you.” She sniffs in his woodsy scent grazing her touch up and down his back, smooching a soft kiss at his cheek.

[pbiskillingmehere]

Undone (Marc Antony x MC)

Fandom: A Courtesan of Rome

Pairing: Marc Antony x MC (Maeve)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut 

Word Count: ~3.5k

Rating: NSFW

Author’s Note: Okay so....yeah this fic is super angsty. My bad lol. For those of you who read my last fic, this fits into the Conquered storyline if you squint, but I also wanted to make something in the spirit of the latest chapter. If someone could tell me if the formatting is okay that would be fantastic bc it’s coming up different for me, and I have a huge pet peeve with bad formatting in fics. I believe I tagged everyone who specifically asked me to, but if I missed you/you want me to tag you in the future, don’t be afraid to let me know :)

Tag List: @claudevonstruke @bacchantony @choicesarehard @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @regina-and-happiness  

Antony couldn't stop staring at the woman in his bed. Even in sleep, Maeve was mesmerizing, with her wild hair splayed across his chest, a smooth cheek pressed against his heart, face upturned. Her body fit snuggly against his as she laid across him. He had chuckled when she threw a thigh across his hips in her sleep, trapping him between her and the bed, not that he would want to be anywhere else.

In the early morning light, Maeve was more ethereal and visionary than any worshipped statue or marble bust, her features the calmest he had ever seen them. As much as he liked her fire, seeing her at peace, not scheming, not worrisome, not full of anger, was a sight to beholden. Perhaps because it was such a rare thing, as she was.

He had met a number of strategists and conspirators in his time, but none quite like her.  She struck a balance between charming and commanding, diplomacy and stubbornness. With such contradictions, she weaved together multiple patterns in her plans, not just serving herself and her need for power and vengeance, but for those who she cared for, and she did so with as much skill as Minerva herself. Compassion was not a quality often found alongside cleverness, but as always, she had managed to surprise him. He just hoped that when she would need to choose between self-sacrifice and self-preservation, she would surprise him once more.

When he first realized she had ruined him for other women, Antony went through such a rapid succession of emotions, he felt he had gone mad. What struck him first was disbelief. He knew he liked Maeve, but he had liked plenty of women in his time, and none had compelled him to reject all other advances. He was not a man who did declarations of devotion and longevity in relationships. Then he was overcome with anger. Even if he did want her more than anyone else, she was too dangerous, and he was still unsure of her loyalty then. Who was she to do that to him anyway? A willful seductress with a tongue like a silver sword, apparently. What followed that was disappointment. Of course he would feel strongly for a woman that potentially conspired against him and whom he had rejected. If the gods did look upon man, they did so with a sick sense of irony. However, when she came to him, reminding him why she had this hold on him in the first place, he was overtaken with something that felt very close to adoration. Then he merely accepted his fate, gladly.

There was a part of him that wished they had met sooner so he could soak up even more of her, have even more time to explore her, but he thought back to his adolescence. His younger self, untamed as he was, couldn't handle such a woman, let alone know how to please her. He wouldn't have appreciated her wit and facetiousness, too distracted by how she filled out her dress and how her hair curled around her face. She would have put him on his ass in an instant.

Drawing him from his thoughts, his eyes traveled down the length of her body, her naked curves accentuated by the smooth fabric of his sheets. A sight indeed. He moved his hand down from her back to her rear, reveling in the satisfaction that no one else got to touch her like this.

Suddenly, she struck out and smacked his hand away, muttering something in Gallic as she settled back against him as if nothing happened.

Antony shook out his hand, surprised at the pain this woman could inflict half-asleep. "Care to repeat that?" he asked into her hairline.

"Let me sleep," she murmured, this time in Latin.

"Tired you out, did I?" His hand crept back down suggestively.

She moved to hit him again, face still buried in his chest, but this time he caught her hand, kissing it before tucking it against him.

She grumbled. "Don't bait me, Antony. You'll enjoy me more when I'm fully rested."

"You've slept half the morning away, my dear, and I enjoy you like this just fine." He drew a line along the length of her shoulder with a fingertip, eliciting a slight shiver from her.

Despite his actions, he did want her to sleep, but he also wanted to chase away whatever plagued her, with his touch if not his words, bring her back to some kind of normalcy.

He thought back to the night before. Antony was not a man that frightened easily, but he clutched Maeve a little tighter after what happened.

They had spent most of the afternoon and half the night entwined, him playing a little game with himself to see how many different flat surfaces he could fuck her on before she couldn't feel her legs anymore. When they finally made it to the bed, they were both sated and in need of a restful slumber, and for a few hours, that seemed attainable.

He had woken to her twitching in her sleep, her whole body convulsing against his. Her breathing was erratic, like she had been running for a long while rather than sleeping. Before he could get his bearings, whatever awful dream she was having came to a head. She gasped horrifically as she bolted up in bed, reaching frantically for a weapon that wasn't there.

He turned on his side to reach for her, but just when he thought it was over, she tilted her head, listening. A beat passed. Then she quickly slid down the bed and went to her discarded dress. She snatched a knife from its folds and flipped it in her hand to grip it as he had seen so many Gallic warriors do before.

She came up to a predatory stance and approached the entrance to his room one sliding step at a time, knife raised in front of her. She looked like a shadow in the darkness, the lines of her form soft but rigid at the same time. "Did you hear that?" she said quietly, her voice far away.

The sight of her, naked but poised to tear into any who came to the threshold, caught Antony by surprise so completely that he wasn't sure if he was dreaming. Her arm was firm, the knife unwavering, but he saw a slight shake in her legs. His strong, clever woman, undone and trembling.

As he sat up, he slowly said, "No, Maeve. I heard nothing." After so many years as a soldier, his senses were well-tuned to threats in the night, like a musician hearing the notes to a well-practiced song. And the only thing that his senses told him was that the most dangerous threat in his home was Maeve.

She shook her head, disbelieving, but silent and unmoving.

Antony rose and approached her carefully. He lightly brushed her shoulders as to not disturb her while she was still delirious. Even then, she still flinched at his touch, but did not pull away. Her skin was pebbled and almost feverish, as if she had fallen to a sudden illness.

He pulled a blanket from the bed, keeping a steadying hand on her. She was still shaking as he wrapped the blanket around her, her eyes staring into the darkness at the ghosts of her enemies no doubt. He tightened his arms around her, bringing her back to his front.

He peppered the side of her face and neck with kisses. "It's all right, lovely. You're all right," he whispered to her, stroking her hair. "Come back to me." He could feel the fast rhythm of her heart, slowing ever so slightly.

He grabbed her clenched fist, carefully prying her fingers from the knife, observing the crescent indents in her palm that looked so close to breaking skin. He threw the blade into the opposite corner of the room.

Like bad blood being drained from a wound, the terror slowly leaked out of her. She leaned her head back against him, somehow feeling even more fragile in his arms than before. "Forgive me," she said quietly, her voice almost timid.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said firmly, stroking a hand down her cheek.

She was silent for a long moment. "I woke up screaming every night for the first year at Lena's scholae," she said absently, her eyes closed. She swallowed. "Now it just happens every now and again."

He pressed his face into her neck. "Sometimes our most vicious torturers can be our own minds."

He tried guiding her back to bed, but she was settled in place like stone. "Aquila told me my brother is as good as dead," she said abruptly, voice thick with emotion. She turned to him but did not look up. "When I got the documents of his betrayal, I made him tell me what became of my family. I can only hope that my mother is still alive, but my brother is likely dead, and if he is, he died alone."

"Maeve--" Antony began.

"It cannot be undone." she cut him off. "None of it can. I know this, but in sleep some part of me forgets. And sometimes I'm still in Gaul."  She pressed her hand to her tattoo.

In the time he had known Maeve, she had left him speechless on countless occasions, the novelty of it delighting him to no end, but never before had he been at such a loss for words. This was beyond even his power. He was in no position to comfort her in the destruction of her people. He couldn't tell her that the men who attacked them were vile and evil. He couldn't tell her that one day her tribe would be restored and everything would be as it was for her. Least of all, he couldn't tell her that her pain was necessary. No one had such authority. When Caesar had told about the campaign in Gaul, he regarded it as a necessity, a nuisance that needed to be addressed. He had said it was the best course of action for Rome, but what was that to Maeve? He could pretend she was a solely a great Roman beauty, but he could not cut her history away from her no more than he could cut away his own, no matter how much they festered.

"And where are you now?" he asked, trying to tread lighting, something that he had never felt compelled to do before. He stroked a thumb across her lips.

"Adrift," she said. She did not speak for several heartbeats. "Antony?" she finally said.

"Yes?"

"Lie to me," she breathed, and his chest constricted at the brokenness of her voice.

He kissed her forehead. His next words contradicted every conviction he had on not giving false hope or empty promises. "One day, the dreams will leave you completely. Your thoughts will be at peace, and you'll never have to wake like this again," he said, so seriously that he himself almost believed it.

She seemed to blink away the past at his words, eyes clearer than before and the strength returning to her limbs. By way of thanks, she kissed him, soft and gentle, desperate for comforts she was too proud to ask for. She had kept the shine in her eyes hidden from him, but he still felt the dampness of her face.

He had held her until she fell back to sleep, staring at the ceiling as unease pooled in his mind. Were he a better man, he would have been making plans to track down her mother, or find her some closure about her brother, but one thought was louder than the rest of it. He couldn't help but wonder how terribly different things would be if Caesar had ordered him to destroy her tribe instead of Aquila.

Now, as dawn crept in and she called him names in both Gallic and Latin, he was never more joyful to have her cross with him, for there was no trace of the events of the previous night. He didn't know if her mind had expelled the memories or if she just refused to acknowledge them aloud, but he would happily provide her distraction in any case.

"I suppose you want a quick fuck, then we can go back to sleep?" She looked at him blearily through the dark tangle of her hair. Her eyes were unfocused but still managed to convey blatant annoyance. She started to move her leg from atop him, but he palmed her thigh to keep her in place. She blew out a breath, sending stray curls flying around her face.

He couldn't help but grin like a fool at how ruffled she was. "Don't sound too overjoyed at the thought."  

"It's your fault for making me like you. You stop paying for my company and I can be as grumpy as I want--" She yelped as he gave her a quick slap to the rear. "What was that for?" she all but shouted.

"Getting you to behave, you cantankerous woman."

Her mouth pursed and shrank to a pretty little rosebud as she narrowed her eyes. Then she pounced.

He laughed harder than he had in a long time as she tried wrestling him, pushing petulantly at his face and trying to grab his arms to pin down. He dodged a flying elbow and chuffed when she dug her knee into his side. Catching both of her hands, he leaned up and stole a kiss.

She sat up, straddling him, and made an attempt to swat hair out of her face. She sighed her frustration. "Well, I'm awake. Happy now?"

Releasing her hands to cup one of her breasts, he took in every bit of bare skin on display for him. "Immensely," he teased before kissing her again. This time it was slow an languid, his tongue sliding into her mouth as she reciprocated. In an instant, she was as ready and eager as he was.

She turned her head, roughly changing the angle of their kiss as she devoured him. He loved it when she did that, taking control to best suit her pleasure, moving her body and sliding her mouth against his in such a way that demanded all of his attention.  

One hand on his chest, she pushed away, delicately flicking her tongue against his lips as he chased her mouth. Jupiter above, this woman would end him. He brought his hand up to her jaw to stay her, his fingers brushing the corner of her mouth. Without pretense, she drew the digits into her mouth, giving them a false nibbled before sliding her tongue against them, sucking on them wetly. He hissed through clenched teeth and pressed his hips against her at the sensation.

Releasing his fingers with an obscene pop, she smiled wickedly. "And here I thought you had gotten your fill. I'm surprised you want me when I looked much nicer last night," she murmured humorously, covering his hand to push it harder against her breast.

He drew her back to him. "I don't think I will ever not want you," he said into her mouth. His fingers traced a path up her spine and Maeve arched her back with a purr. She closed her eyes and lolled her head back as he sat up to suck a bruise into her collarbone next to the myriad of others he had given her the day before.

She clutched the back of his head when he soothed the spot he was working at with his tongue. Smiling into her skin, he gave her nipple a sudden pinch, and she writhed against him. "Bastard," she moaned, rubbing herself against his hard length beneath her.

"Viper," he breathed hotly onto her neck. "I want you like this," he declared. "So I can watch these beautiful hips moved as you ride me." He ran his hands over her hipbones to squeeze her backside before returning to grip her waist.

"Yes," she said, the word tumbling out breathlessly, pressing him back to lie down on the bed. She quickly positioned him at her entrance and sank down with a gasp.

Antony bared his teeth at the sensation of entering her. It didn't matter how many times he did it, being inside her always gave him a brief moment when he believed in gods and blessings. For if they existed at all, they did so in these moments. Clutching her hips, he guided her up and down his shaft.

She braced her hands on his abdomen and set a tortuous pace. She made every stroke long and deep, twisting her pelvis every so often to hit a different angle.

He groaned. His hands began painting her skin with his touch, brushing her sides, her breasts, her neck, then back down again. He could feel how high he was bringing her, in how her breathing turned to short little huffs, in how her lips curled and her movements became harsher.

In another act of surprise swiftness, she captured his jaw in her hand and leaned down to kiss him, tasting him once more. When she rose and looked into his face, he saw an openness and vulnerability that somehow filled her eyes and made them all the greener. He wanted to somehow possess the color and hide it from all the world.

"Tell me a lie," he said, his voice guttural.

Her movements slowed. Jade eyes stripping him bare, she ran her hand from his cheek to just over his heart. 'This," she whispered, breath stuttering, "will last forever." Then her fingers brushed his lips, as if to entreat him to say no more.

After that, they did not speak, both quickly finding their release in silent ecstasy.

                                                      ~~~

Maeve walked the halls of Antony's home in contemplation. He was inches from sleep when she made vague excuses to leave him, promising to only be a few moments. He smiled sleepily and gave her a sloppy kiss before she departed.

After some time, she came upon a room decorated floor to ceiling with what seemed to be every weapon of a violent imagination. Older and modern blades were littered throughout the display, along with several bows, shields, and javelins, all of varying sizes and designs. Not necessarily an armory, but the hint of one. She suspected a number of tenuous allies and potential renegades had been paraded through there as a reminder of what power looked like, and how easily it could be wielder as any one of the weapons on display.

A spear caught her eye, simple-looking to the soft-handed senators of Rome, she was sure, but the quality of the metal and the obvious lethality to its edge made it an exceptional weapon, far beyond the standard issue of the weapons given to the legions. It reminded her of her favored spear that she used when she was still with her tribe. She had not used it as often as she would have liked but she had wielded it expertly.

She had appreciated it for its versatility. It could be used to hunt, fish, and fight at both short and long distances. An adaptable weapon made for adaptable warriors. Her father had trained her in many weapons, but she felt the most capable with her spear. Her fingers itched to bring it down from the wall to see if her body remembered the feel of it. Maybe one day she would be bold enough to try. She wasn't sure if that would put Antony on edge or amuse him.

Sickness rolled through her at the memory of how he held her after her dream, nearly crushing her to him as if such an embrace would drive the demons from her mind. Maeve had foolishly thought she would never need to touch the notion that she might have an episode in front Antony; She had gone nearly a year without one. In the darkness, coupled with the irrational fear of people and monsters that weren't there, was the panic at how Antony would react to seeing her like that. Nearly every word and movement around him was carefully calculated, nothing unchecked. But her traitorous mind had shown her soft underbelly, a weakness as ruinous as the ones of Homer's heroes. However, all he had done was comfort her and act as if it never happened. At first, she feared it was because he planned to use it at a later point, but one look into his eyes had told her it made him concerned for her, conflicted even.

Maeve's mind turned to Caesar's imminent arrival. Perhaps she could use this to her advantage. After all, who was the reason Antony's lover woke in the night with such brutality?

She suspected spying on Caesar would be hard enough if she wasn't overestimating his abilities, but reporting to Antony would be even more difficult. She wasn't sure if Caesar was the traitor that Antony expected him to be, but in any case, she would need to paint him as treacherous no matter what she found. She wasn't reckless enough to tell Antony anything that wasn’t at the very least technically true, but heavy implications and carefully constructed words were quite useful tools. She just wondered how many partial truths she would have to tell him for them equal a whole lie.

She would turn Antony against Caesar, and then turn Rome on itself.

At the thought, Maeve felt a twinge inside her that wasn't quite guilt but also wasn't the satisfaction she expected. Antony was already on his way to being favored over Caesar in the eyes of the public, and the seeds of suspicion were already planted in his mind. All she really needed to do was to give him confirmation and the subtle push he needed. Her role could even be considered minor from some perspectives.

Besides, she couldn't let herself wonder if she was betraying Antony or doing what was best for him, or both even. It wasn't as if it mattered. She needed to do it.

Maeve couldn't undo the past, but she could make a future that was retribution for it.

[weekendwarriorblog]

Weekend Warrior Home Edition – April 3, 2020 – Slay the Dragon, Tape and More

Well, things sure have gone to hell since I last wrote this weekly column that I’ve now been doing in some form or another at one place or other for over nineteen years! For the first time in those 19 years and probably a good 80 or 90 years before that, there were no movies in theaters. In fact, there were no movie theaters. Because of this, the last two weekends have been the first in history with ZERO BOX OFFICE. It’s kind of tough to write a column about the box office and theatrical releases when there are none, n’est ce pas?

So I’m going to try to evolve for the time being, and we’ll see how that goes. I’m not too thrilled about having to watch movies as screeners, let alone writing about movies that will probably never get a theatrical release, but I’ll try to make the best of it. (Oh, and Disney’s Onward, which opened in theaters less than a month ago will be available ON DISNEY+* tomorrow.) (*corrected)

This week’s “Featured Movie” that you absolutely must see, especially if you’re reading this from one of the “red states” and feel like government just isn’t doing things the way you’d like them to do, is Barak Goodman and Chris Durrance’s political documentary SLAY THE DRAGON (Magnolia).  It covers how gerrymandering is being used in census years (like this one) to maintain a Republican majority in local and state government.  Goodman’s doc begins in Michael Moore territory of Flint, Michigan and shows how gerrymandering was used to create a Republican majority that led to the town getting water from the nearby Flint River which contaminated the pipes and leaked lead into the system.

The film does a good job explaining gerrymandering in an easy to understand way by following a few specific cases of people fighting against the policies.  Counties and voting districts in different states aren’t just a straight grid on a map. Instead, the districts are drawn up to cause an unfair advantage to a party. This was especially true of the REDMAP program instituted in 2008 by the GOP after Barack Obama was elected President to make sure Republicans could dominate Congress as well as politics on a state level.  

Much of the film deals with Katie Fahey’s group Citizens United that has decided to take on the politicians with its grassroots campaign to allow the people’s voices and votes to start counting. (One of the programs that grew out of REDMAPping was that thousands of voters were not able to vote since a few states passed a law that ID was required to vote, thereby keeping black and brown voters from the polls.)

Yes, it’s a rather complicated situation but it’s one that people in the primarily liberal states like New York, California and others really need to know about, since it’s why we have a reality TV host as our President right now as well as why we have a Republican Senate that just prevented him from being impeached. All of the bigger politics goes back to the individual state politics and how gerrymandering and REDMAP unfairly sways the vote against those who win on the state level in census years (essentially every ten years including 2020). Originally, this was going to get a theatrical release in March but now it will only be available on digital and On Demand, so you can find out how to see it on the official site.

I also want to give a little extra attention to Deborah Kampmeier’s TAPE (Full Moon Films), which skipped its theatrical release instead to do an interesting “virtual theatrical run,” playing every night On Demand via CrowdCast. It’s available every night at 7pm eastern followed by discussions with the filmmakers and then will be on Digital and VOD on April 10. Again, these are changing times, but this is a haunting and powerful thriller based on true events, starring Anarosa Mudd as a woman trying to catch a sleezy casting agent (Tarek Bishara) who is preying on actresses and one in particular, played by Isabelle Fuhrman (Orphan). Both of their performances are pretty amazing, Mudd playing a shaven-head whistleblower and Fuhrman playing an ambitious young actress who think she’s finally gotten her much-needed break, but finding out there’s a lot darker side to the business than she expected. While a lot of people have raved about The Assistant as a response to #MeToo, this is a much starker and direct look at the abuse of power to take advantage of young women. The movie is not going to be for everybody, because it takes some time before you realize what Mudd’s character (who could just as easily be Rose MacGowan) is up to, but the way how things play out in the film makes it unforgettable. It’s a fantastic new movie from Kampmeier, who famously had an underage Dakota Fanning have a rape scene in her earlier movie, Hounddog.

A movie that was released last week that I didn’t get to write about (but it’s still available On Demand and Digitally, as many movies currently are) is Lorcan Finnegan’s VIVARIUM (Saban Films), starring Jesse Eisenberg and Imogen Poots. It’s a virtual two-hander in which they play a couple who look at a house in a suburban housing complex where every house looks the same. They soon learn that they can’t escape and things get weirder and weirder from there. I can’t say I loved the movie, because it just got weirder and weirder, almost to a fault at times.

Polish filmmaker Malgorzata Szumowska’s THE OTHER LAMB (IFC Midnight) is another movie about a religious cult, this one a group of women that live in a remote forest commune led by a man they call “Shepherd” (played by Michiel Huisman from Game of Thrones and The Haunting of Hill House). It follows a teenager named Selah (Raffey Cassidy) who begins to question her existence when she starts having nightmarish visions. This was okay, but I really have hit my limit in terms of movies about religious cults. They’ve just been overdone.

Mike Doyle’s rom-com ALMOST LOVE (Vertical) is about a group of middle-aged friends trying to navigate love and relationships with a cast that includes Scott Evans, Kate Walsh, Patricia Clarkson, Augustus Prew and more. Some of the characters are having marital issues, others are dating or getting into early feelings of possible love. It’s a nice distraction from all the serious stuff going on in the world today.

A great music doc now On Demand, digital and other formats (Blu-ray/DVD) is Brent Wilson’s STREETLIGHT HARMONIES (Gravitas), which takes a look at the early doo-wop vocal groups of the ‘50s and ‘60s that predated and formed the basis for Rock & Roll, Rhythm & Blues and other music genres as we know them today. It deals with acts like The Drifters, Little Antony and the Imperials, The Platters, and Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers. It includes interviews with some of the more recent acts influenced by it including En Vogue and N’Sync as well as Brians Wilson and McKnight. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed this despite doo-wop not being my preferred music style. (For the sake of transparency, I helped out with a little bit of publicity on this film.)

Also, Olivier Meyrou’s fly-on-the-wall doc Celebration (1091) is a movie that was commissioned by Yves Saint Laurent’s former lover and business partner, Pierre Bergé, more than ten years ago but was shelved for being too revealing. It was filmed over the course of three years where Laurent was at his most frail and mostly separated from the world as we get a look inside one of the last great haute couture houses. It’s now available On Demand and digitally.

Jon Abrahams directs and co-stars in Clover (Freestyle Digital Media) opposite the great Mark Webber, playing bumbling Irish twins trying to pay off their father’s debt to local mob boss Tony Davolo, played by Chazz Palminteri. Things get more complicated when a teen girl named Clover (Nicole Elizabeth Berger) shows up and the brothers need to protect her from Tony’s “hit-women.” Looks like a fun dark comedy.

Unfortunately, Saban Films didn’t offer advance review screeners of the action sequel, Rogue Warrior: The Hunt (Saban Films), directed by Mike Gunther, but it stars Will Yun Lee.  I’m not sure if this is a sequel to 2017’s Rogue Warrior: The Hunt, but I haven’t seen that either. It involves the leader of an elite team of soldiers being captured by terrorists, so his team needs rescue him. Oh, and Stephen Lang (Avatar, Don’t Breathe) is in it, too.

STREAMING AND CABLE

This week’s Netflix offerings include the streaming network’s latest true-crime documentary series, HOW TO FIX A DRUG SCANDAL, directed by Erin Lee Carr (Dirty Money), which covers the 2013 case of Sonja Farak, a crime drug lab specialist who was arrested for tampering with evidence but also accused of using the drugs she was supposed to be testing.  (It’s on the service as of this writing.)

Stuber and Good director Michael Dowse helms the action-comedy COFFEE & KAREEM, starring Ed Helms as police officer James Coffee, who begins dating Taraji P. Henson’s Vanessa Manning while her 12-year-old son Kareem (Terrence Little Gardenhigh) plots their break-up. Kareem hires criminal fugitives to kill Coffee but instead ends up getting his whole family targeted, so the two must team up. Also starring Betty Gilpin, RonReaco Lee, Andrew Bachelor and David Alan Grier.

Also on Friday, Disney Plus will stream two Disneynature docs, Dolphin Reef and Elephant, in honor of Earth Day taking place later this month. Previously, one or both of these movies might have been released theatrically but hey, earth is going to hell right now.

Now playing on Hulu is the latest installment of Blumhouse’s “Into the Dark,” Alejandro Brugué’s Pooka Lives, which ties in with “Pooka Day” (no idea what that is) but apparently, Pooka is a fictional creature like “Slender Man” that was created on Creepypasta  by a group of friends that goes viral but then manifests into creatures that become real. It stars fan faves Felicia Day, Will Wheaton, Rachel Bloom and more.

Next week, more movies not in theaters!

By the way, if you read this week’s column and have read this far down, feel free to drop me some thoughts at Edward dot Douglas at Gmail dot Com or send me a note on Twitter. I love hearing from readers!

[jintheawkward]

as we hum along | one-shots

1) the one where seokjin and jungkook can't take a break (jinkook) 2) the one where hoseok is a total ass (yoonjin) 3) the one where taehyung finds pasta romantic (taejin) 4) the one where seokjin and jimin don’t feel like themselves (jinmin) 5) the one where seokjin has never forgotten the promise (namjin)

ao3

1)      the one where seokjin and jungkook cannot take a break (jinkook)

“is that mayo on your tie?” jungkook asks, squinting his eyes.

“where?” seokjin lowers his head to see the damage. „oh, dammit.”

“for real, hyung?”

“you know that whenever i’m nervous i can’t stop eating!”

“you eat all the time, no matter what,” jungkook says as he rolls his eyes and approaches seokjin. “if you weren’t exercising, you would probably need a two sizes bigger suit.”

a pout forms on seokjin’s lips, one that looks offended and angry. „not everyone is that lucky to have a fast metabolism.”

“must be the young blood,” jungkook chuckles in response.

to get a better access to seokjin‘s silky tie tucked into his vest, jungkook pulls it up a little bit. fortunately, the mayonnaise stain seems tiny, hardly visible.

“whoa, it must be great to be young! good for you!” seokjin exclaims, sounding like an old man who swears at neighbourhood kids all the time, so jungkook pats seokjin‘s mouth to shut him up.

“well, thank you, i’m glad!” he answers in the same loud voice as he teasingly imitates the other.

seokjin gasps dramatically when jungkook licks his finger and gently rubs at the smudge.

“did you just basically spit on my tie?”

“better wet than dirty,” jungkook mumbles absent-mindedly since there’s a tie that needs to be taken care of first. “jeez, you’re such a messy eater, like a kid!”

“are you coming down on me right now? seriously, how dare you, brat?”

“you’re nagging me all the time! just because you’re old it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a scolding sometimes!”

“is this how you are repaying me for raising you?” seokjin’s mouth hangs open in disbelief while he tries to swat away the younger’s hands. “you’re lucky our mothers are best friends.”

the door creaks open as namjoon’s head peeks inside, his brows knitted together in both worry and restlessness.

“cut it you two!” he hisses after glancing over his shoulder. “what is taking you so long? people are getting nervous and yoongi-hyung is already annoyed, saying that you should get your asses inside or find someone else to wed you.”

“sorry, hyung, we’re just sorting some things out.”

“now?!” namjoon squeaks out in shock, then quickly clasps his hand over his mouth, whispering. “i can’t believe you’re bickering on your own wedding, just seconds before the ceremony. on the other hand, why am i even surprised?”

seokjin rolls his eyes in response.

“give us a break, namjoon.”

“fine, but hurry.”

when namjoon gently shuts the door, jungkook seems almost done.

“there, i think nobody will notice,” jungkook says as he tucks the tie back in place, taking one last look. “next time, don’t stuff your mouth so much!”

“but i like to have my mouth full!”

“yeah, i know that pretty well.” jungkook says with a smirk.

“jungkook!”

“ok, let’s get married before you get even older.”

this time, seokjin makes sure to emphasize his words by punching jungkook’s shoulder.

“you’ll regret saying that.”

with a grin not leaving his face, jungkook takes seokjin’s chin and pulls him closer. he kisses him deeply, a promise lingering on his lips once he moves away.

“oh, i hope i will.”

 2)      the one where hoseok is a total ass (yoonjin)

“i want you. i want you now.”

the lower tone of his voice makes yoongi feel a tingling sensation that is dangerously traveling south, as if seokjin whispered the words between sweaty and wrinkled sheets, pressed against yoongi’s burning body.

which he didn’t, obviously. seokjin’s just god damn good in voice acting.

they are working, so yoongi needs to act professionally – and that definitely does not include popping a boner to his co-worker’s voice in the middle of a recording while the other sound engineer and his so-called friend is wheezing with laughter at his suffering.

clearing his throat, yoongi flips a switch and pushes a button. “hyung, take a short break.”

“is something wrong?” seokjin looks up from his script, wide-eyed and innocent like a kid from margaret keane’s paintings. one could hardly believe he has been dubbing quite steamy scenes for two hours already.

two most torturous and challenging hours in yoongi’s life, by the way.

he has no idea what kind of rom-com the movie is supposed to be, but the age rating should be changed to at least 30+.

“no, you were great, hyung!” hoseok chuckles as he chimes in and yoongi is this close to breaking his neck. “but yoongi-hyung is right, go refresh yourself. after all, there’s still so much moaning ahead of you!”

“okay,” seokjin shrugs in reply, taking off his headphones and reaching for a bottle of water.

yoongi has the presence of mind to turn off the mic before pushing hoseok with his shit-eating grin off the chair.

“oh, come on! there’s nothing wrong about your cute little crush,” hoseok laughs once he sprawls out on his chair again.

“i’m so glad you’re enjoying this,” yoongi growls, “i thought taehyung was supposed to be recording his part today?” he checked, twice, to make sure that he wouldn’t be here for seokjin’s bed scenes.

“yeah, change of plans.”

“and why nobody informed me?”

“i wanted it to be a surprise!” hoseok chirps as he pinches yoongi’s cheeks. “take it as my early birthday gift for you.”

seokjin is stretching his body now. yoongi tries hard not think about how flexible it looks.

“what an amazing friend you are,” he says, his lips curved into an ironic smile.

“so, do you want some privacy to jerk off or-“

“i hate you, hoseok, like, you have no idea how much.”

“no, you love me, i know you do.” unfazed, hoseok pats his knee as he plays with some buttons and leans over to the microphone. “ok, hyung, let’s get back to work! we have some sex to dub!”

 3)      the one where taehyung finds pasta romantic (taejin)

it was supposed to be a quick trip to the supermarket, but somebody didn’t get the memo to let others do their grocery shopping in peace, especially on saturday morning.

“i'm sorry but i’ve already told you that i'm taken, thus really not interested,” seokjin utters with an edge of annoyance in his voice. despite determination being the key ingredient in his own life, he sometimes wishes people could take no for an answer.

“well, i don't see him anywhere,” says the man as he squeezes seokjin’s shoulder, his hand casually sliding down his arm. “come on, we're just talking. i'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't mind this little chit-chat."

just when seokjin is about to make his rejection more obvious and less polite, a deep voice beats him to it.

“actually, the boyfriend does mind.”

the grip on seokjin’s elbow loosens as the hand there gets pushed away and taehyung steps in front of him as a shield.

his usually boyish features have darkened and, strangely, he seems taller and broader. taehyung might be pure-hearted like a kid, but even he doesn’t like sharing his toys.

with his lips pressed together in a thin line, he tilts his chin up daringly.

“and if you don't want this leek down your throat or up your ass, you will take ten steps back and go to hell.”

be it any other time, seokjin would laugh his ass off at the sight of taehyung defending his honor while wielding the vegetable.

however, the man has probably found taehyung pretty convincing because he starts to raise his hands as if to calm him down.

“okay, dude, no need to get excited,” he mumbles before swiftly retreating.

“tae, everything’s fine,” seokjin sighs, tugging at the long sleeve of taehyung’s enormous t-shirt that could fit two people in it. “i swear, nothing happened."

“what an ass, picking someone up while surrounded by kitchen towels and toilet paper. such a turn off."

“really? says a guy who asked me out in the pasta aisle?"

“hyung, toilet paper is a toilet paper,” taehyung says patiently as he throws his arm around seokjin’s neck to bring him closer, which makes it a bit harder for seokjin to maneuver the cart around.  “by contrast, there isn't anything more poetic than pasta - you have spaghetti, fusilli, vermicelli. imagination and variety - that's art, you know.”

seokjin stops in his tracks.

“can you say vermicelli again?”

“vermicelli?” taehyung asks confusedly and seokjin watches how his tongue rolls around the word. when taehyung notices, a grin sweeps across his face as he smiles with the tongue between his teeth.

“let's go home,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss on seokjin’s cheek, and then pets his head, “i can tell you all about the pasta there.”

“yeah, let’s go home.”

still beaming, taehyung takes over the cart. he begins running and pushing it to the checkout.

“look, hyung, how fast i can go with this thing!”

 4)      the one where seokjin and jimin don’t feel like themselves (jinmin)

“you’re so tiny,” seokjin muses as he observes the pair of small hands, putting them in front of his face with open fascination. “makes me wonder if everything of yours is like that.”

“don’t you even dare to think about that,” jimin warns when he catches his creepy smile, however, the familiar expression looks so out of place on his own face.

actually, staring at himself, while not being himself, has turned out to be an altogether odd experience. he makes a mental note to get a new haircut.

it has been almost three hours since jimin woke up not only in seokjin’s apartment and his bed, but in seokjin’s huge body as well.

suspiciously, he stares at seokjin when the older boy stands up. “where are you going?”

“well, between the time you banged the shit out of the door, rushed in here and pulled me out of bed, i haven’t really got a chance to go to the bathroom.”

“seriously, hyung?”

“what? not my fault that somebody forgot to take a leak before their bedtime. and your bladder the size of a peanut is not helping either.”

“fine,” jimin groans loudly, rolling his eyes in defeat. “try not to peek much.”

passing him on the way out, seokjin pats him on the shoulder. “chill, i’ll just quickly take care of the business. in all honesty and innocence, of course.”

“oh my god,” jimin sighs and buries his face in hands, suddenly feeling the stubble that must have grown there just overnight. “is he a grizzly or what.”

a low whistle comes from the bathroom, immediately catching jimin’s attention.

“what’s going on?”

seokjin later appears in the door with a leer.

“pretty impressive, you know, for your small frame,” he says, the smirk not leaving his face, “guess it’s not true what they say about the size of your palm and- “

“hyung, can you goddamn focus?” jimin slams his hands on the table as he finally loses his patience. he’s getting frustrated because it’s too early, he’s stuck in this freakishly big body so he keeps hitting himself and seokjin still thinks it’s a joke. “sometime during the night, weird shit happened, and we swept bodies. how come you’re not freaking out?”

“part of me still believes that there was something wrong with the leftovers i had yesterday for dinner and this is just a fucking dream,” seokjin replies with a sigh, head propped on his hands. “anyway, i can’t think when i’m hungry.”

“fine, serve yourself!” tired, jimin motions towards his fridge and he almost finds the little skip in seokjin’s step cute. almost.

“why is there no food? what am i supposed to have for breakfast?” he whines as soon as he opens the fridge.

“there still should be a bottle of juice smoothie. see that green thing?”

“that’s not food,” seokjin deadpans, then almost chokes on his own spit when he sees the price tag. “what? this is ridiculous. if you want to eat mud just go outside. it would taste the same and cost you nothing.”

“it’s healthy and full of protein.”

“again, it’s not food. why are you torturing your body?”

nonetheless, seokjin tries to open the bottle of the ugly green mush, all in vain.

“what’s the point of having all these,” with every word, seokjin jabs each one of his, jimin’s, abs, “when there’s literally no strength in your arms?”

jimin takes the smoothie from him and doesn’t hide his surprise when the stubborn bottle gives in at his first try.

“not only does it look disgusting, but it tastes like dirt too,” seokjin splutters, making a grimace as soon as he takes a sip. he immediately shoves the bottle back into the fridge and pours himself a glass of water.

“what now?” jimin growls when he catches seokjin staring.

“nothing. i’ve just never realized how broad my shoulders look. they are huge. like the east sea or something,” seokjin says and gives him the once-over, making jimin feel awkward even though, technically, it wasn’t his body that seokjin was checking out. “man, i really am handsome. seriously, how can you even function normally around me?”

the kick that comes from jimin is strong enough to leave a bruise as he can tell by the way seokjin curses. it makes him happy for a moment before he realizes that it will hurt him as hell once he gets his body back.

 5)      the one where seokjin has never forgotten the promise (namjin)

namjoon hides behind his hands when seokjin breaks into an embarrassing rendition of ‘happy birthday’. fortunately, he isn’t drunk yet so there’s no off-key singing, no screaming, no attempts at hitting the high notes, and, thank goodness, no uncoordinated bodyrolls.

“happy birthday, namjoonie!” seokjin says with a little smile that makes people all warm and stupid inside. he then clinks their glasses together carefully, not spilling a drop of the cheer liquid, and downs it in one go.

“thank you, hyung,” he murmurs, the corners of his own mouth stretching slightly, before the soju burns its way down his throat.

seokjin spares him a glance as he looks up from the food, his brow raised in a question.

“what’s with that face?” he asks while piercing the pieces of tteokbokki and popping them into his mouth.

“what face?”

“you know, the sad and pensive one,” seokjin answers around a mouthful, “the twenty-penguins-die-each-minute look.”

“first, that’s not even true, second, i don’t have-“

“oh, you do, joonie, and it’s up now.”

“fine.” namjoon can’t really help the eyeroll since there’s no point in arguing with seokjin. only a fool fights a battle he cannot win. so he rather starts picking at the plate of fried octopus, which only results in seokjin hitting him with his chopsticks.

“okay, tell me what’s wrong before i lose my appetite because of you.”

“i’m already thirty-three today and here i am, spending my birthday with you again.” namjoon heaves a sigh, ignoring seokjin’s incredulous scoff accompanied by his offended excuse me. “i mean, i’ve always thought that by now, i would be in a long and boring but happy relationship.”

seokjin stays quiet, chewing thoroughly, and namjoon is glad that he doesn’t comment on his pathetic love life. the thing is that namjoon has had his fair share of girlfriends and boyfriends, but somehow none of them lasted long.

“i don’t want to be alone anymore. being lonely is so tiring and depressing.”

“so, do you want to get married?” seokjin asks once he swallows, nibbling at the greasy ends of his chopsticks.

“i do, you know that.”

“no, i mean, now. to me.”

namjoon’s hand, lifting a glass to his lips, stops mid-air as he blinks at his friend in confusion, however, the beautiful face holds no traces of joking.

“your twenty-fourth birthday. remember our little pact?” pouring himself a drink, seokjin breaks into a grin as if recalling the memory.

they went for drinks after classes to celebrate namjoon’s birthday then, but spent most of the night washing down namjoon’s recent and sour breakup.

(“hyung, let’s marry each other if we’re both single in our 30s.”

“cool, i’ll be your plan b,” seokjin said to his slurred suggestion, amused and not as drunk as namjoon.

“and i’ll be yours.”)

“yeah, what a night.” namjoon shovels meat into his mouth and forces himself to chew, feeling the embarrassment settling on his cheeks. “don’t tell me you would actually do it?”

“why not? it’s not like i’m saving myself for someone special.” seokjin shrugs nonchalantly and takes a sip of his soju. “with a perfect  and one-in-a-million face like mine, one has no choice but to lower his standards.”

“wow, thanks, hyung.”

“thank me later for the benefits of marriage with me.”

honestly, marrying seokjin does actually have some pretty neat advantages. not only is he rich and handsome, but seokjin is kind, funny in his own way and somehow always says or does the right thing to make namjoon feel better. and unlike namjoon, seokjin knows his way around kitchen.

“you’re thinking about my bank account right now, aren’t you?” seokjin teases with a grin as he pops another piece of meat into his mouth. “so? wanna get married or not?”

“is this a proposal?”

“jeez, i forgot you’re a hopeless romantic,” seokjin sneers, then picks up a squid ring from a plate.  “what about me putting this on your finger? would that be chic-flick enough for you?”

despite knowing each other since forever, namjoon predicts his future with seokjin will involve all kinds of blushing.