#absolutely in love with the world building and art everything in it feels so organic hitting just the right spots in my brain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

broomsticks · 1 year

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I posted 5,998 times in 2022

That's 5,497 more posts than 2021!

101 posts created (2%)

5,897 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

akindplace

@billsfangearring

olderthannetfic

honeytuesday

infected

I tagged 5,968 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#hp art - 620 posts

#words - 560 posts

#on writing - 474 posts

#wolfstar - 338 posts

#lmfao - 331 posts

#keep - 311 posts

#misc art - 299 posts

#fandom meta - 297 posts

#self care tag - 292 posts

#about stories - 257 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#but you don't have to make any of these to belong here! all you need is to share the love we have for these characters and their stories!

My Top Posts in 2022:

my @cruelsummer-ficfest entry!

never in a million years could i imagine writing not only not-angst but straight-up meet-cute (meet-awkward) muggle university/coffeeshop au romantic fluff wolfstar but whew THE DEED! IS DONE!!!

1.8k, T (and also a fill for my @wolfstarbingo2022 prompt lily evans)

Wednesday — hump day — was Remus’ least favourite day of the week. At least today was a good pain day, though. He’d even woken up before his alarm — but the streak of wins had ended there — he’d forgotten he’d used the last of his coffee pods the other day. A good thing, then, that he had time to stand in line at the Hogwarts Expresso — albeit leaning increasingly more on his cane, book bag on his shoulder getting heavier by the minute.

thank you SO MUCH to @kenzlepuff, this fic would not have existed without your advice and reassurance and support and everything ❤️❤️❤️ also much love and gratitude to fest struggle buddy @billsfangearring, @allalrightagain @sleepstxtic and the @hpffwritersguild’s write-a-thon, and of course the fest mods for running this! @femme--de--lettres and @greyeyedmonster-18, you’re such blessings to this fandom.

also, have a bonus established wolfstar at jily’s wedding set to starlight —

Look at you, worrying so much about things you can't change, he chirps, coming up from behind to rest an arm on your shoulder, rather than take his seat beside you.

(1.6k, T, here on AO3)

42 notes - Posted August 13, 2022

my hp trans fest 2022 faves

canon-adherent--canon-plausible--fics are my thing in general -- ones in which writers take key canon events and details and use them as a jumping-off point around which to weave their own narratives. there's something about that that feels very satisfying, reclaiming almost, especially from the angle of trans fest. anyway -

Lay down your armour (be with me forever) by @bluesundaycake (E, 21k, severus snape/remus lupin) [rb the author's tumblr post!]. A story told over a decade of encounters, where a body feels like a graveyard and another like a battlefield, and names are whispered tenderly until they feel real.

a canon-compliant snupin from the hogwarts-era period through to first war. fantastic severus characterization, what a gorgeously bittersweet romance. an absolute masterclass in first-person POV, made me feel so many feelings.

Family Legacy by @thistlecatfics (T, 1.6k, tedromeda, remadora, teddy/victoire) [rb the author's tumblr post!]. Three generations of trans/nonbinary/gender questioning Tonks-Lupins.

canon-compliant, amazing HCs. whatever the opposite of generational trauma is -- generational healing? we do what we do in hopes of building a better world for the people that come after -- and this is sort-of a story of that.

Two-Way Mirror by luna_rapunzel (G, 4k, black family gen relationships). Narcissa and Sirius come out as trans together. Sirius's transition goes smoothly. Narcissa's doesn't. the story behind why they made the choices they did (Narcissa staying in the family but breaking their naming traditions, Sirius running away but picking a name that fit.)

beautiful side-by-side of two parallel trans journeys; intersectionality at its finest. superbly IC black family & black cousins relationship dynamics, even in this AU.

a few more recs and art under the cut! also, i didn't manage to read every fic from this fest, so i'd welcome recs too <3

Growing Pains by bigsadwolf/@remixloonylupin (T, 6k, wolfstar). a pregnant trans male & schizophrenic remus fic written by a trans & schizophrenic author. such a wonderfully sensitive look into his journey, lots of other amazing ND rep here too

wear your heart on your skin in this life by slanted-HP-knitting (SlantedKnitting) (T, 4k, wolfstar). remus is a tattoo artist who runs a studio with tonks, and one day sirius comes in looking to get a tattoo for his brother.

and finally, a bunch of G/T-rated art: - Absolution & Stars Out by Acid: snily, snape and his doe patronus - many wreaths of roses by @babooshkart: parvender's gorgeous wedding - transmasc tonks by rewriter: 😍😍😍

48 notes - Posted May 2, 2022

grey characters appreciation rec list!! (snape, bellatrix, and walburga)

not sure if it’s just me, but i feel like there’s been a lot of grey/dark characters written by people i’d not normally expect to write them recently — which i LOVE and am absolutely living for — so have a rec list! both new fics and old favorites.

note: none of this is character bashing imo, but it’s also not character apologia and may not exactly portray said characters in the best light, so, yk, tread with caution this is especially @ all of the, like, three snapedom people who follow me <;3

snape, bellatrix, and walburga fic recs below. cw for fic snippets containing mentions of violence, and also mentioned blackcest ships.

SNAPE

I. canon compliant, in letter and in spirit

two marauders era with initially close but deteriorating snily friendship, and snape-POV jily get-together:

Arborvitae by Patriceavril (5.6k, T) - snape and lily and their shared language of flowers. superbly written.

She Didn't by @ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey (10k, M). Snape remembers all of the moments through the years where he suspected Lily might have fancied James back. this was somehow one of the first things i read in HP fandom and i’m amazed how well i still like it every time i go back to it.

a chillingly compelling snape POV of Halloween '81: ch1 of Pieces by @tracingpatternswrites

a post war grieving snape: Pray You, Love, Remember by @nanneramma (1k, M). shakespeare references!!

The Least Enjoyable Task by OgdensOldFirewhiskey (3.2k, T) - a snape POV of the OOTP occlumency lessons. so true to character, genuinely made me feel for snape, and the last line is especially gutting.

Consequence for Cause by cambangst (1,6k, G) - an HBP missing moment, dumbledore & snape. two immensely complicated characters and i love the characterization takes in this!

The Portrait Hole by OgdensOldFirewhiskey (3.8k, G) Snape's version of "King's Cross" — a conversation with Lily, featuring angst, growth, and forgiveness. iconic fic. iconic fic. afterlife resolution, perfectly done, nail on head, wonderfully cathartic.

II. less tightly canon compliant (still reasonably canon setting!) -

may day, mayday! (or, the hazards of love) by @skiamachy (20k, E) - lily character study, lily is dark and fucked up (deliciously so) and so is snape. factually/technically canon compliant, endgame jily.

Where You Belong by @bluestringpudding (6k, T) canon setting, snape centric, horror.

BELLATRIX

this entire reclist was inspired by a bunch of recent bellatrix-centric fic:

And All I Loved by @nanneramma (5.5k, M)

Bellatrix knows how she looks, here in the forest. She has always preferred black, and here she melts into the darkness between the trees like a ghost, like she is bridging the gap between now and then, like she has always been and always will be. She wears the night like a cloak, wrapped in stars and sky and the scent of rain and she feels like eternity.

Born as a Blackthorn tree by @artemisia-black (1k, E)

She’d make his veins burn, and his arteries sear with agony. Every second of pain, penance for his sins. Every inch of his stinking flesh covered in white-hot needles, a baptism of flagellation that cleansed him of his transgressions.

Night Of The Dancing Flame by @only-that-but-that (5k, M)

His command, intoxicating and primordial, seemed to burn through her, heating her from the tips of her fingers to her core. She held out her arm, wrist turned upwards, head bent in supplication.

& some older delightful bella pieces:

Burning Inside by cambangst (3.6k, T)

Tears of joy welled in the corners of her eyes and she collapsed onto the floor of her cell, feeling the rough stone and grit scrape at her fragile flesh. The pain didn’t matter. The Dementors could come if they wished. Bellatrix was unbowed, unbroken.

ch3 Cankerous of Pluto by @bikelock28

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62 notes - Posted September 30, 2022

wolfstar autumn(ish) fic rec list 🐾🍂

*: i tried but not quite

gorgeous bingo created by @moonwalker94 for hpfc!

1 - JUMPER - An Enigma Wrapped in a Jumper by @squidgilator (5k, G) - mwpp-era fluffity fluff, featuring my FAVORITE pining idiot sirius:

He was an inscrutable enigma, Remus was. An enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a puzzle wrapped in a jumper. "Not that much of a mystery," muttered Remus, and Sirius wondered how many of his last few thoughts he'd said aloud. "Just the bit about being an enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a—something— wrapped in a jumper," said Remus, curiously. "Why?" "Er," said Sirius, and vowed to keep his thoughts inside his head from now on. "No reason."

bonus rec: The Sweater Bet by Deya (6k, T). silly (extended) marauders shenanigans: why is your boyfriend wearing a sweater at the beach and how do you get him to take it off??

-🍁-

2 - STORM - The Weather Inside by earlybloomingparentheses (43k, E)

The bright beam of sunshine that spilled into the compartment on the Hogwarts Express at the start of first year just as Sirius stepped through the sliding door (…) an accident of timing. The freak snowstorm the day after the Incident, when Remus was curled gut-punched on the floor of the Shrieking Shack (…) a trick of air currents and cold fronts. And now, Sirius at the window of his and James’ flat, the storm outside roaring and Sirius turned to face the rain lashing the pane, dressed in black and looking from this angle like a Sturm and Drang painting, all heroic isolation and inner turmoil—why think anything of it?

bonus rec: How to Suffer a Storm by gayagape (11.6k, T), lighthouse au from the 2016 r/s games.

-🍁-

3 - BIKE RIDE - This Is Not Your Year by montparnasse (17k, E). first war angst and pining, montparnasse - that’s it that’s the rec. so many quotes i wanted to pull.

“Holding onto your favorite bits?” “Remember there’s ice on the roads. Also we’re possibly being hunted.” “I’ll go slow.” “You’re so sweet,” said Remus, “always with all my extremities and orifices in mind.” On the seat he pressed very close to Sirius, hips first, the way he always did. “It’d be nice if someone around here ever thought of mine.”

bonus rec: There Is a Light That Never Goes Out by @wanderingbandurria (2.6k, T). a summer road trip (coughahem getaway car whomst?) leads to the Realization of Feelings.

-🍁-

4 - FIRESIDE CHATTER - Goetia by @biremus and @kember-writes (44k, T). regency au, monster/horror au, Not Your Everyday fireside chat 👀 (also, some incredible art!)

The red coals in the fireplace provided just enough illumination for Sirius to watch as Dorcas lifted the silver bell in her hand, and rang it once. “Lord of Hell, we call you forth.”

bonus rec: Your Little Head by @paulamcg (1k, G) for, appropriately, r/s fireside tales. such a fascinating outsider pov wolfstar. no fireside warmth to be found here 😈🔥

-🍁-

5 - BAKING - The Great Biscuit Calamity of 1978, and Other Such Disasters by @lunapwrites (8k, T). also hinny. post-second war, our favorite disasters being properly domestic.

"How did you even manage that, anyway? Like, I'm equal parts horrified and impressed, I am." "I was only trying to open the bag--" "With what? An Exploding Charm?"

bonus rec: A First Taste by LuminousGloom (3.8k, T) - a fluffy mwpp-era cooking at hogwarts!

-🍁-

6 - STAR GAZING - this ficlet for meee by @tahtahfornow, for the tumblr prompt game things you said under the stars and in the grass. your writing your writing 😍😍🥰🥰 (also thank you for putting this on ao3 and not making me have to ritually sacrifice something to tumblr search)

Damp grass scratches against the napes of their necks, presses into the backs of their Oxfords; the star-soaked night sky blankets them like a soft flannel. The moon is waning, a fat yellow grin pasted above them, and Remus thinks maybe, wildly, that for once it is not mocking him, that its smile is true, that tonight—just tonight—it is on his side.

bonus rec: star talking, atop the astronomy tower. The things that lurk in the dark by TheDivineComedian (4.7k, T). one of my absolute favorite mwpp era, incredible marauders characterizations and character-insights in a slice-of-life.

-🍁-

7 - HOT CHOCOLATE - Tight Spaces by @krethes (3.2k, T) - mwpp-era remus-trauma / remus’ werewolf childhood. lots of hurt but tons of lovely comfort after, and delightful marauders friendship.

Instead, he was jostled in a bone-crushing hug, sloshing hot-but-not-scalding cocoa on the blanket in the suddenness. Sirius buried his head into his shoulder and held him so tightly Remus thought he might snap in half. Remus's cheeks were wet and, embarrassed, he realized he was crying. He hadn't expected such a response from Sirius, who was usually joking or brooding, never something so gentle, so sincere.

bonus recs: naturally - Did You Miss Me? (600k, E) by @krethes and @fantismal, and Power the Dark Lord Knows Not (300k, E) by @fantismal and Jormandugr (nearly perfect chapter timing, too, hahaha)

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93 notes - Posted October 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

hi!! if its not a bother, i was wondering if you had any recommendations for older(second war or post war) wolfstar. i wanted to get into WS since its very popular and there are many fics but i dislike the idea that they dated at all pre PoA. you have such good taste in fics i thought i should ask!

hiii oh my gosh what a compliment, not a bother at all!!! gonna be brief because i really should not be doing this now want to get this answered timely-ish hahah:

some LLAL (lie low at lupin’s):

Like Tinder for Ghosts by montparnasse (8k, T)

Lie Low At Lupin's by shessocold (5k, unrated/i’d say M)

Come and Find Me—Lying in the Bed I Made by @femme--de--lettres (6k, T)

Hold On to Whatever You Find by fallovermelikestars (10k, E)

i can tell you the telling gets old by misandrywitch (6k, G)

AND other LLAL recs by the @wolfstarlibrarian! i get a ton of my recs from them honestly.

these are multi-era with a good amount of second war older wolfstar and so good i absolutely have to rec -

To Fill A Gap by berhanes (sqvalors) (8k, T)

watching stars collide by hydianway (17k, T)

Adagio by lupinely (6.5k, M)

I look at the world and I notice it's turning by kaydeefalls (10k, T) - wolfstar AND remadora, canon compliant, non linear vignettes, blended gorgeously.

have not read this one in its entirety, but i’m confident reccing @tracingpatternswrites’ OOTP canon compliant sirius POV fic The star and the moon (93k, M)

OOTP but canon divergence - if you’re open to it, @lunapwrites’ Louder Than Love absolutely sold me on remus/sirius/tonks. super obsessed with the worldbuilding and canon rewrites here - just cuz we’re Fixing or at least Addressing problematic canon elements doesn’t mean the characters have it easy! often the opposite!

post war everyone lives AU:

firstly @krethes’ Give Quarter to Old Men series - Fics that feature older Sirius and Remus, anywhere from late 30s to their 70s. - tons of incredible 🔥 smut, and lots of lovely growing-old-together HCs in the first two especially.

ALSO One to Speak, Another to Hear by seventymilestobabylon (60k, T) - one of my absolute top favorite wolfstar fics.

The Wizarding Wars are over, but the work of recovery has only begun. Remus Lupin is trying to find his place in an ever-changing world, and when he is invited to serve on a truth and reconciliation commission, he has to confront the truth that lives there—in the past and within himself.

in fact you know what, have a sneak peek of a totally self indulgent thing i might be working on hahahah

108 notes - Posted October 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#leftsidedown tag #o mg. a million people were tagged in this one #im so sorry #tumblr year in review

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corvidcrybaby · 1 year

Note

12, 22, 69 (lol) for the fanfic ask game 👀

SCREEEEEEEEE HERE WE GO

12. Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines? How far do you stray from them?

It's an even fifty-fifty. I outline my fics when I begin to have a lot of plot elements, narrative threads or allegorical references I want to work into it - if I don't, I'm liable to forget something relatively important and have to either shoehorn that thread in later, or do the Edit Of Shame where I go back and include something as a throwaway line. If you're curious as to what they look like, here's an example from when I was working on Formulas Fatal To the Flesh:

Some of these beats ended up in the final cut, while others didn't. I usually try to break it down based on "okay, what is The Moment I want Character X and Character Y to have together" and from there I build backwards and forwards. How they got there and where it takes them - I'll often keep a "scrap heap" of ideas or lines of dialogue (especially with Zemi since I entertain the fuck outta myself with writing her inane bullshit one-liners) on a spare sheet somewhere that I will pull from to weave into the story. This does look a bit like a mad scientist's scrawlings, and I like it that way! My trick is to outline and be thorough about it but not get too rigid. This is why I typically only plan fics in chunks at a time, with general ideas of where I want the story to go. Stories morph and evolve as one writes them, and I am the type who KNOWS that if I make the outline too demanding and rigid I'll get all up my own ass about it. Outlining too hard and trying too viciously to stick to it tends to shoot me in the foot so I avoid it.

Additionally, I particularly enjoy structuring stories based on conversations. Dialogue is often the first thing I write, and the rest comes after that. This comes from my background studying theatre - a thespian scholar bitch like me knows better than anybody that you can build a whole world around little more than a few words between two characters, so I like to let the rest of the work bloom from that organically. Not always, but these are common methods I use.

22. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

Fuck yeah so glad somebody asked this one. I develop titles for chapters after I'm done writing them. I make it a point to title pretty much EVERY CHAPTER I WRITE for everything I've written publicly so far based on the title of a death metal track or album. I'll branch out into other genres like black metal and whatnot but I try to stick to death metal specifically. This mostly comes from my personal annoyance that there's so little decent media content based on extreme metal. Part of why I love Hellsing so much is just based on the fact I think it gets the closest to the aesthetic of the deepest bowels of extreme metal in its art style, themes, visuals, and so on. So when I need a new title, I deadass will just leaf through my music catalogue and pick a title I think fits the themes of the chapter in some allegorical sense - ditto for the little lyrical blurbs I put at the front of each chapter. Is it corny? Fuck yeah, man, but so am I. Sometimes I just say "fuck it, I'll put TWO songs names in the title, who will stop me?" When it comes to the entire fic titles, I put more thought into it and play process of elimination until I settle on one I think rolls off the tongue best. See: Formulas Fatal to the Flesh (Morbid Angel), Lesions of A Different Kind (Undeath), etc.

69. What are your favorite fics at the moment?

Aw shit man, puttin' me on the spot as I've been off my fic reading game for a minute but I'll plug what I can remember!

First off, shout out to the homie @neet0 with their work Revelations. Absolutely love this piece, I reread chapters from it a lot and feel like I learn something new about writing every time.

I'm also really into this My Hero Academia fic, In The End (We Are Left Bereft). Only halfway through, and some of the elements may not be for me personally, but first of all, anything that examines Bakugo as a closeted trans woman is gonna make me come running because I just ADORE that as a concept. Second, the issues this take on Bakugo deals with regarding identity and belonging, being touch-starved and alienated, etc? A bitch relates, what can I say. Good MHA fics are so hard to find in my experience so this one has been a delight to read thus far.

I also eat up almost everything that BirdOfHermes ever does. Because, listen mate, sometimes a bitch just wants that sweet, sweet cheesy wish fulfillment with fictional men. That, and their writing is so easy to read for me that it hooks me into stories about characters from series I haven't even watched or read. Never thought Harry Dresden would be hot to me, but, oops, they made it happen. Also, forever awaiting the glorious day they decide to finish Tame. One of my favorite Alucard/Reader fics of all time, I've reread it probably a dozen times by now.

Beyond this, I've been in a bit of a fic rut as of late, so if you got recs, send them my way!

Thank you so much for the ask it made my day for real <3

#fanfic writing #writing quibbles #ask box

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reclaimingthewildsoul · 4 months

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The Creative Act: A Way of Being

This is the title of a book that I just finished reading. It was recommended to me by a good friend who I have always felt represented "Creativity". She constantly pursues new adventures with lustre and relish, and I would always joke that she would most definitely receive AAA+ in effort for everything she engaged in, right down to her almost trip to Mars!

This book is written by Rick Rubin, and he apparently is so at peace with himself that nowhere in the book is there even a mention of who he is or what he has accomplished in his life and his own multiple acts of Creativity.

Having been raised in a way which taught me that there was always a "Right Way" to do things or a "Best Way", I have not felt so free in expressing my Creative Acts. Doing things right, or well, was highly praised and linked to being loved and accepted in my world, so reading the words of Rick Rubin has been freeing and enlightening.

He speaks of how being Creative is just being absolutely connected to the Energy of Life that flows through everything, and expressing our own experience of that Connection. Such creativity can include, but not be exclusive to, anything from music, painting, architecture, writing, composing, singing, relationships with others, planning, cooking, organizing ...... and anything else that we feel free to express ourselves through.

This is a completely different take on creativity for me, and one that I can't wait to delve into.

How often are we limited and restrained in our expression of Self? Often due to earlier experiences of rejection or ridicule, we stop our free and total expression of Self. We see such open joy and carefree abandonment in young children, until such time as they become "socialized", or "mature", or "reasonable", or "good", or "successful". I've heard many stories of small children who still "See" things or "Hear" things that we no longer are aware of. Is it that we are born still aware of the constant and total connection to the "flow of energy" that connects all and everything? Then one day that small child often just stops being able to directly experience that connection and their "visions" and "insights" stop?

In Rick Rubin's book he describes the many ways in which we can begin once again to open to this flow of life energy and seek to be present and express our own creativity in anything and everything that we do.

I find this description to fit well with my own philosophical leanings and the teachings I have been exposed to in my life. I have always been interested in what I term "Eastern ways of thinking", and I have studied Marital Arts for over 20 years and learned and practiced Meditation and Mindfulness throughout. The phrase "Be and Artist of Life" was one I learned in these practices and it has always stuck with me. Nature and our connection to it has always been my sacred place and my solace.

My Shangri-la, my safe place of refuge, has always been the property and cottage that my family has owned since I was 13 years old. It was first just a wonderful piece of peaceful northern land on a lake all by itself. It has always been "off the grid", and is only accessible by boat, though not an island. It is 187 acres of untouched beauty in the Parry Sound District and it has always been my place to get away from it all. It was purchased in 1967 by my parents for $3,000 and for the first 3 years we camped there. Then in 1970 while my family was in Australia for my father's Sabbatical from teaching at McMaster University, he hired someone to build a 4 bedroom cedar Pan Abode cottage on the land, on a granite hill overlooking the beautiful lake.

In 2013 this magical cottage somehow, unknown to any of us, burned to the ground, leaving only the stone fireplace standing like a monument to survival. We spent the next two summers rebuilding it ourselves and my connection to the land and the cottage only increased.

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sinner-as-saint · 3 years

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I Am Your Fall.

Mob!Bucky x Ex-Spy!Reader

Run-through: You’re hiding from your past, in Madripoor. You did nothing wrong, other than mix dangerous business with a lot of pleasure. You couldn’t go home because... he would find you and Madripoor was the only place he didn’t do business, or had any allies or friends. But little did you know that the mob boss had finally found you after obsessively looking for you ever since you left, and left him in pieces. He didn’t want revenge, he just wanted the one thing he had hopelessly fallen in love with; who also happened to be the one who had betrayed him and hurt him more than anyone or any bullet ever did before - you.

Themes: mob!bucky, smut, angst, fluff, Ex-Spy!Reader, slight daddy kink, guns

“The usual?”

You nodded at the man in front of you with a faint smile as you took a seat at the bar. You kept the hood of your jacket up as you let out a quiet sigh. Moments later the bartender placed a glass half filled with whiskey and ice in front of you.

You whispered a ‘thank you’ and swirled the drink around in the glass before lifting it up to your lips and taking just the tiniest sip. You often came into this bar after work, just to feel normal again. You worked at a diner right around the corner; it was lowkey and shabby and didn’t attract many customers, neither did it pay well but you weren’t there for the money.

Your last job, the one you had before ending up in Lowtown Madripoor, paid really well. So much so that you wouldn’t have to worry about money for a long, long time but you still had to blend in and pretend to be as normal as you could; hence the job at the diner.

You thought of home as you took your second sip. You grew up in a nice family before joining the organization you worked for, as a spy. You let out a quiet little chuckle as you thought of how ever since you were a kid you wanted to grow up and catch bad guys. Which is exactly what you did as a spy. And you were great at your job, your organization couldn’t be prouder of your work.

You took another sip. Everything was going great for you, until the day you were assigned to infiltrate the life of and take down the infamous mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. The day you heard that you were being sent to him, you were excited because James was notorious for a lot of bad things. You couldn’t wait to step inside his evil lair and take him down. What you didn’t know was that you would end up finding love right where it wasn’t supposed to be.

You felt a strange knot in your gut as you thought of him. Bucky…

Oh you had loved him despite his mean, dark demeanor. He was a cold-hearted man to the rest of the world, but only you got to see the warmer side of him. And you fell in love, harder, faster and deeper than you ever thought you could. It got to a point where you had to choose between either betraying your organization or betraying the man who shouldn’t have fallen in love with. That’s when you ran away, far from home. Far from your work which you loved so much, and far from him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to betray him, nor did you have the courage to tell your people that you failed in an important mission all because you fell in love with the enemy. You knew what happened to people who betrayed Bucky, you had seen it. And you also knew what happened to spies and agents who betrayed the organization you worked for. Both of those situations weren’t ones you wished to find yourself in, so in order to save yourself, you ran.

And now here you were.

As you took another sip of your drink, you felt the hair at the back of your neck stand up out of nowhere as a shiver ran down your spine. You were being watched. During your training you were taught to absolutely trust your gut, and if you ever got the feeling that you were being watched it meant that there was a high chance that you actually were.

Shit.

You set your glass down and placed the money down beside it before slowly sliding off the stool and casually walking out of the bar. You made sure your hood was still up, and you tucked your hands in your pockets. Your fingertips gently felt the hand gun you always kept with you, just in case, secured at your waist under your jacket.

You looked around, and so far no one was following you. The streets were busy given that it was a Friday night and you were sure that you could make it home safe because no one would attack you or anything in a crowd like this.

You lived in a modest, 2-bedroom apartment. And you always took the fire escape at the back to get into your apartment because you didn’t trust the rusty elevator at the front, nor did you ever want to run into a neighbor or anyone by taking the stairs inside the building. The fire escape was discreet and lowkey.

You entered your living room shortly and sensed that something was off. The air was colder somehow, and you never left any windows open. Ever. You shut the door behind you, not locking it. You gently took out your gun and held it out in front of you, at the ready. You moved stealthily, quietly. You knew which spots on the wooden flooring made the most noise so you avoided those.

Someone was in here, you could tell. The air… it smelt different the further you walked into your apartment. You didn’t switch on any lights, you checked the kitchen first. Clear. The living room. Clear. The spare room. Clear. And your heart raced as you went into your bedroom. The door which normally always remained closed, was wide open.

You couldn’t even run. Whatever it was, whoever it was you were gonna have to face it. You stepped into your room and with whatever little light was coming through the windows, you tried to scan the room.

“Lower your gun, babygirl. You don’t need it. I’m not gonna hurt you, and I know you don’t wanna hurt me.”

The sound of his voice had you frozen in the spot where you stood, a few feet away from your bed. The voice came from behind you. You slowly turned around, not lowering your gun and keeping it aimed right at him. It took you a few seconds to process everything.

You could make out his silhouette as he stood in front of one of your bedroom windows. Tall, built, his metal arm glistening. He was here. You let out a shaky breath. He was here, he found you.

You didn’t move from the spot that you were standing on. There was a time when whenever you saw him you’d run into his arms, and despite wanting to do just that even now, you knew you couldn’t. That was back then, this was different, wasn’t it?

He sighed before moving, walking to the other side of the room to light a table lamp. The soft, golden light illuminated the room just enough. Your heart burned as you took in his appearance; dark suit as always, shorter hair, his metal arm just as intimidating and mean as always and his pretty blue eyes - the same ones you loved, belonging to a man who eventually became the reason why you had to leave your old life behind.

Bucky was still; calm and composed as always. He was the kind of man who had mastered the art of looking completely steady even when he wasn’t. He could have a storm inside of him, or raging flames of anger but on the outside it would never show. He was as devious and subtle as a predator, moving with the grace and elegance of a ferocious but calculated animal.

“You seriously thought that moving across the globe and changing your hair color would keep me away from you?” He sounded like he was mocking you. “Took me about almost a year, but I found you.” He walked towards you, making you envy the way he could move so effortlessly. You couldn’t read him. His face was… blank. Void of any emotion.

He spoke again once he stood right in front of you. “Now, you’re gonna tell me why you ran away.”

You remained quiet. He could tell you were thinking. He could always tell, he knew you too well. You made a makeshift plan in your head. If you were to shoot him in his arm, just to injure him enough to make him lose his focus, you could grab the emergency bag you always kept under your bed and run. But you didn’t want to hurt him.

Also, how far would you go? Knowing Bucky, if he had made it to Madripoor he probably had his men surrounding this apartment building right now; all armed and ready to fight. He probably even had people from here all the way to Hightown; which meant that even if you ran from here right now you wouldn’t be able to make it out of Madripoor.

Like you said earlier, he had found you. There was no way to run anymore.

“I know you’re thinking about running again.” He teased, shoving his hands in his pockets, letting you know that he had his guard down; which meant that he had thought this through. “Maybe you have an emergency bag somewhere, or you plan on shooting at me to distract me and make a run for it.” He chuckled. “Trust me, you wouldn’t make it out of this apartment, babygirl. And even if by some miracle you did, I will burn this island to the ground to find you again.”

Despite his tone being all calm, and almost monotonous you could hear the bitterness and the evil promise in his words. He was probably angry, he felt betrayed for sure, he was also frustrated given that he mentioned having searched for you for a year, he was also probably hungry for answers.

You still remembered that night you left. Your people at work had been pestering you to hand over information and sending you all sorts of threats if you didn’t, but you also could no longer lie and manipulate Bucky, because you loved him. So you left in the middle of the night, leaving your old life, your job, the man you loved, your family, everything behind.

No notes, no messages, nothing. You and him had been together for a little over a year at that point. And you just snuck out of a one year relationship with no explanation. It was wrong you’d admit, and Bucky had every right to be hurt and angry.

“Answer me. Why did you run? Why did you leave out of nowhere? And didn’t you go back to your people like the good little spy you are? Why Madripoor?”

So he knew about your past. You could only imagine what he did to the organization you used to work for when he found them.

“How did you find me?” You knew how much he hated it when people answered a question with another question. You were surprised when he answered instead of being even more pissed off.

“It took a lot of people, a lot of bullets and a lot of patience to track you down.” He chuckled. “I must say, you’re good at whatever games you play. But I’m gonna need you to stop for a moment, and give me the answers I need.” He took a small step forward, reducing the distance between you and him. “Why?”

Such a broad question, why.

“I had to.” You gave him the most vague answer ever.

He scoffed. “Okay, let me make this easier for you. Let’s start with, what’s your real name?”

You almost rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t afford to let your guard down at the moment. Not when you couldn’t even figure out what he was here for.

“You know my name.”

Of course he did, he had moaned it so many times in bed.

He gave you his signature smirk, the one who captured the hearts of many including yours. “I’m assuming that since you’re a spy everything which comes out of your pretty mouth is a lie. So what is your name?”

You corrected him. “I used to be a spy. I don’t do that anymore. And I didn’t lie about my name. I didn’t lie about many things.” You looked him dead in the eyes when you said so. You wondered if he thought that you lied when you said you loved him. That was real.

He scoffed. “I’d beg to differ.”

“You plan on killing me?” You asked, thinking that now would be a good time to know whether or not you would be dying tonight.

“No.”

“Then why are you here, Bucky? Why did you look for me for a year, why are you halfway across the globe right now if you don’t plan on killing me for betraying you? What do you want?”

“You.”

You rolled your eyes, finally lowering your weapon. You still couldn’t read him.

He spoke up again, “Why didn’t you lead your people to me? Why didn’t you finish your job?”

“You might have actually done just that yourself. If you were able to find me, so could they. They probably have eyes on right now. By coming here you just-,”

He cut you off. “They don’t have eyes on you. No one does.” He answered confidently.

“You don’t know that. You-,”

He cut you off yet again, he smirked, “Oh I do know, babygirl. I know because I… dealt with each and every last one of them. The people you used to work for, the whole organization, it doesn’t exist anymore I made sure of that. You see, I’ve been quite busy this past year. Between dealing with your people, dealing with my own and playing hide and seek with you.”

You froze again. Dealt with? “And how exactly did you deal with the organization?”

“I watched it burn.” He answered, proudly.

Oh. “You plan on doing the same with me? After your little Q and A, you’re gonna just… deal with me?”

He fake gasped and placed his metal hand over his chest as though surprised. “I would never do that to you. You see, unlike you I didn’t lie when I said I loved you.”

That caught you by surprise. You said nothing, pretending like that confession didn’t make your heart race.

“I’m gonna ask one more time, why did you run?” His tone was cold.

You scoffed. “I didn’t think you’d be understanding regarding the whole situation. If you ever found out who I was, let’s be real, you’d kill me right where I stood. And I could no longer go back to my people because they would force me to lead them to you.”

He raised his eyebrows, then chuckled. “You protected me? What for?”

I didn’t lie when I said I loved you either. “I didn’t want to manipulate or lie. I didn’t want to infiltrate lives and be dishonest. I didn’t want to have to live a double life any longer. I needed freedom, I needed a way out. So I came here.” You paused. “I’m not proud of what I did to you.” You added.

You lowered your eyes once you finished talking. Bucky moved closer to you, he reached out and grabbed your chin with his metal hand, tilting your head back gently until you looked into his stormy, ocean blue eyes. You hated how you still couldn’t read him. Was he angry or no?

“Are you lying right now?” He whispered, and smirked knowing it would piss you off. You pushed his hand away. He chuckled, leaning into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke and it sent shivers down your spine, “Let’s play a game.” He pulled away and took a few steps back. “You love games, don’t you babygirl?”

Your heart raced. Oh this can’t be good…

He took some more steps back and then pulled out his gun; the shiny golden one he loved the most out of the arsenal he owned. He aimed it at you, smirking. “I’m gonna ask you some questions and as long as you answer truthfully, I won’t shoot.”

You remained very still. You hated to admit it, but there was something so immorally powerful about him when he handled his guns. You remember back when you two were together, you could spend hours watching him clean his guns; his favorite toys he called them. Bucky always told you that he believed that weapons shouldn’t be intimidating, but the person handling them should.

In his case, it was true. Just looking at him made your body throb for a moment. You tried not to let it show but judging by the smug look on his face you could tell that he knew exactly how you felt.

You knew he would never shoot you.

Bucky Barnes was, afterall, a cunning man who knew how to toy with one’s head. He could have easily taken your gun away from you, could have tied you down on a chair and interrogated you until you gave in. But no, by doing this he was letting you think that you still had some control over this. He knew he had given you the chance, you could’ve easily shot him the moment you walked into the room. But you didn’t. You chose not to. And he knew that.

You almost smirked when you put it all together. He wasn’t here for answers, because he already had them. He just wanted to hear it from you. He wanted you to verbally say it. He was here for this dark, twisted game of his.

“Fine.” You agreed.

He cocked his gun, the sound rang in your ears and it reminded you of the times you pretended not to know shit about guns and had him teach you how to aim. He had done so with a lot of patience and a lot of kisses.

“How much did you tell your people about me?” He asked.

You could tell he was easing into it. “I stopped feeding them information after the first six months. I told them it would be risky to keep meeting up with them in secrecy, and that I would soon come back with everything I can gather about you. But I never did.”

He seemed pleased with that answer. “Of course you didn’t. Instead you ran away.” He watched you cautiously, “How many people know you’re here?”

“No one does, except for you.”

That was true. You couldn’t risk going back to your family, not when you were certain that the moment you stepped foot outside of Madripoor your people would find you.

“Why Madripoor?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. “You could’ve easily hid in the country itself given your… skills.” He knew just where to poke you to make it hurt. “Then why here?”

“Anonymity. No one knows or cares about who you are or where you come from here. Also because I knew that neither the organization nor you had any connections here whatsoever.” You paused. “Clearly I was wrong.”

He got really serious, clenching and unclenching his jaw. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth then? If you couldn’t trust your people at the time, why not turn to me?”

His question made you chuckle. “I already told you, you would’ve killed me.”

“And I already told you that I-,” he cut himself off and took a breath. “Why didn’t you trust me?”

You stared into his eyes, looking. Searching for something you once saw in them. Love, for you. There was a time when he would look at you with nothing but adoration and love. Now he was angry, hurt, frustrated, his power challenged.

“Because I’ve seen what you do to people who betray you. I knew how much loyalty mattered to you. And I… I couldn’t have possibly looked you in the eyes and tell you that I’ve been lying and manipulating you for a whole year, and that I was sent to take you down.”

It hurt to say it out loud.

“You ran because you were scared of me? Of what I would do to you if I found out?” He didn’t bother hiding the hurt. He wasn’t calm and composed anymore, he was visibly troubled. Jaws clenched, fingers tightening around his gun, eyes shooting daggers at you. “Answer me!” He raised his voice out of nowhere and you jumped.

You lowered your gaze to the floor. In all those years, be it during training or even while on missions, you had never succumbed in any way when a weapon, no matter the size, was aimed at you. Yet now, you could feel your hands starting to shake just a little.

“Yes. I ran because I was scared of you.” You answered, not having the courage to look up at him.

He was quiet for four seconds - you know because you counted them - before he lowered his gun and shot at the wooden floor, several feet away from your legs. The sound made you flinch and groan, not in fear but in annoyance. He was breaking you, he was getting everything he wanted out of you. You were giving in, too easily. You hated it.

“Liar!” He growled and walked right over to you, quickly. His eyes reflected the anger and frustration he felt inside. He placed the barrel of his gun right under your chin. The cold metal made you shiver, mainly because you still remembered that his metal arm felt the same way against your warm skin. “I said no lies.”

He used the gun to tilt your head back, making you look up into his eyes. He spoke up again, “You ran because you love me, and you couldn’t live with yourself after betraying me. You chose not to lead your people to me, because how could you? How could you do that when you fell in love with the enemy?” Bucky chuckled, removing his gun from your chin and replacing it with his metal hand.

He leaned in so close that when he spoke next, his lips brushed against yours. “You chose to run away rather than give them what they wanted, because they wanted my fall. You ran from me because you couldn’t admit, nor accept that you cared too much about me.” He chuckled. “You did all of this not because you were scared of me, but because you were scared of them since you had failed in a mission.” He shrugged. “That’s understandable, given you fell in love with the one they sent you to ruin.”

Your eyes watered. He broke you, finally. He said everything you’ve been avoiding to tell yourself over this past year. And he was right about everything. You were quiet. You didn’t have anything to say to him.

He spoke up again. “I know for a fact that you knew I would never, ever hurt you. Betrayal or no betrayal.”

“Buck…” You whispered, your voice cracked as you held back a sob. You felt a single tear slide down your cheek.

His hand moved from your chin, down to your waist. He pulled you closer, pressing his body to yours. The feeling of his built, taut body against yours brought back memories you weren’t sure you could ever forget.

“Say it.” He demanded, looking down at your lips, then back into your eyes. His scent filled your senses. He was all you could, and wanted, to focus on. “Tell me I’m right. Tell me the truth you’ve been running from.” He leaned in, as though he was going for a kiss. “Tell me you love me.”

“Bucky, I…” you almost choked on another sob you couldn’t let out. You wanted to tell that you loved him. But the words wouldn’t come out. Something was stopping you; worry or fear or just guilt.

It was guilt.

He scoffed. “Too proud? Too self-righteous to admit that the good little spy fell in love with the bad guy?” He pressed his forehead to yours as he walked the two of you back, towards your bed. You knew what he was doing, and you didn’t stop him. “Admit it, babygirl,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear and you felt goosebumps all over your body, “Or maybe I should remind you…”

Bucky pushed you down on your bed, and he hovered over you supporting himself with one hand while the metal one held his gun right above your face. “You’ve been a bad, bad girl lately.” He murmured, gently lowering his gun and brushing the barrel against your lips, then slowly dragged it down your skin. “Did you think you could hide from me forever?”

He dragged the tip of his gun all the way down till your thighs, making you tremble. His eyes stared down into yours as he carelessly tossed his gun aside and brought his metal hand over to your mouth again.

“Do you know how bad I’ve missed you?” He mumbled, tracing your mouth with his cold fingers. For a moment he forgot why he was here in the first place.

You shivered under his touch. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I never meant to-,”

He scoffed, cutting you off. “Shut up, babygirl.” He had a mean smirk on his face. “You’ve been bad. And what did daddy tell you about babygirls who misbehave?” His calm demeanor could fool anyone. Anyone but you.

You knew him too well. You could tell he was burning inside, agitated. Like a wounded predator, planning his next attack. There was no escaping him now. Not that you truly wanted to.

“They get punished.” You whispered quietly as he tugged on your bottom lip with his thumb. The simple gesture reminded you of all those times spent with him; the nights you spent in his bed, in his arms…

He chuckled. “Exactly. Now come on, you have a lot to make up for.” He pulled away, and stood up straight at the end of your bed. “Take your clothes off. All of it.”

The sound of his authoritative voice had your thighs clenching together to try and alleviate the sweet pain in between your legs. That tone of his was a weakness of yours, and he knew it.

You hesitated only for a moment, but the longer he stared into your eyes the warmer your body felt, and all you wanted to do was to get rid of all that you were wearing. You took your jacket off first, followed by the long sleeved shirt underneath it. You scooted forward, sitting on the edge of the bed to take the rest of your clothes off; shoes, skirt, stockings which left you in your matching set of black underwear.

You looked up at him, waiting for further instructions.

“I said, all of it.” He let his eyes roam your body for a moment and then he spoke up again, “Don’t be shy baby, I’ve seen it all before, haven’t I?”

He had done so much more than just seeing it all. You held his stare as you took your underwear off and had to fight the urge to throw it at his face just for the hell of it.

“Good girl.” He whispered. “Now lie down, spread those legs for me. Show me what’s mine.”

The crudeness of his words would’ve surely made you blush if you didn’t know just how vulgar and dirty he could really get, this was nothing.

You did just as he asked. You held yourself up on your elbows, still holding his stare. Bucky eyed you like you were a warm meal and he was a starving man. There was nothing but lust and mischief in his eyes.

“Touch yourself for me.”

You felt your face get really hot for a moment as your heartbeats rang in your ears. “What?” The question just slipped out before you could stop yourself.

Bucky smirked. “You heard me. Use your pretty fingers and touch yourself. I assume you thought of me each time you… tended to your needs over these past many, many months. I’m sure you missed me,” he chuckled, just as cocky as you expected him to be, “Or at least you missed having my cock buried deep inside of you. Hmm?”

You studied his face for a moment. Your emotions were shifting; from guilt to annoyance to shame to lust. And you hated how well he had you figured out. “How do you know I haven’t had someone else tending to my needs instead?” You asked, quickly realizing that this wasn’t an ideal situation to be the brat you used to be back then.

Bucky let out a little laugh; a hot and evil laugh. “No one will ever satisfy you like I do.” He shoved both of his hands in his pockets. “Even if you did, for some reason, fool around with someone here I assure you they won't be breathing for long.” He responded with a straight face. “You are mine. Nobody touches what’s mine and lives.”

That speech shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did.

“Now come on, be a good girl and do as you’re told.” He spoke softly. “Show me how you touched yourself when I wasn’t here to take care of you.”

Your hands moved on their own; caressing your inner thighs before placing your fingers right over your clit. The look in his eyes made your walls clench around nothing. Your lips parted and you let out a shaky breath as you toyed with your clit, smearing your wetness around before slowly rubbing down your folds and slipping past your entrance with ease given that you were dripping already. Your other hand toyed with your nipple, twisting and tugging.

Needless to say, Bucky was hard just looking at you.

You stared into his eyes as you gasped in pleasure as your fingers effortlessly slipped in and out of you. You whined as you fingered yourself, thinking about the last time he touched you – all those months back, on the same night that you left him. And how lovely his mouth felt against your body. Whining in need and frustration, the palm of your hands rubbed against your sensitive clit over and over again as your middle finger slipped in and out of you.

“Bucky…” you whimpered.

He just stood there and smirked. “Faster. And don’t you dare cum.”

You whined, slipping your finger in and out of your wet hole rapidly. “Fuck…” Your own touch took you higher, and higher, and you were on the edge.

“Stop.” He ordered, moving closer to you but not touching you yet. “Add another finger.” He waited until you did, whimpering as you pushed another finger in. “Good girl, now fuck your little cunt faster for me.” He leaned over and traced your lips with his cold, metal finger, his touch was agonizingly slow. He was so close, but he still wasn’t touching you like you desperately needed him to.

You took your bottom lip in between your teeth to keep yourself from moaning too loudly. Bucky smirked when he saw how you were struggling to keep quiet. He noticed the way your body squirmed, and he knew you too well so he could tell that you were so close to coming undone.

“Poor baby,” he cooed, “Is it hard?” he taunted, his fake concern morphing into an evil, handsome and sly smile. “Is it frustrating to not be allowed to have something you so desperately want? Hmm?”

“Buck… please,” you whined, releasing your swollen lip from your teeth. Your body felt hot, and you needed to just let go and come undone.

“Stop.” He ordered, shamelessly ignoring your pleas. You stopped, and pulled your hand away from in between your legs. He knelt on your bed, in between your legs. You tried to look away but he grabbed your chin before you could turn your face to the side. He stared into your eyes for a few seconds, not saying anything. Eventually he spoke up, “What do I do with you?”

You stared at him, a thousand thoughts in your head. “You’re crazy.” You spat, hoping to rile him up.

He just chuckled softly. “You did this to me.” He sounded bitter, and hurt. He leaned in to brush his lips against yours, making your heart race, “Thoughts of you were messing with my head for the past year.” He confessed, and you felt your heart hurt. “People think I’m cruel, clearly they haven’t had their heart broken by you.”

You opened your mouth to say something, or maybe apologize, or perhaps you’d say something which would piss him off even more but before you could, his mouth was on yours. He kissed you with passion, but also pent up anger and frustration. He was conflicted, so were you. Both of your pride were hurt, egos bruised but your hearts still yearned for each other. Nothing could change that.

Before you could process anything, Bucky was kissing down your body; you were a whimpering mess by the time he kissed along your inner thighs. He chuckled darkly when you let out a loud moan as he kissed your throbbing clit ever so gently. Like he used to when he was madly in love with you.

“Your body remembers me, babygirl.” He seemed proud of that.

You hated how you couldn’t resist him. You hated how you didn’t even try to. You melted right under his touch as his tongue gently licked down your folds. His hand found yours and he laced his metal fingers with yours while his other hand rubbed up and down your thigh as he pushed his face further into your wet core.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look down at him, but you were sure he looked enticing with his plump, pink lips on your wet heat; your arousal dripping down his chin and coating his lips as he devoured you. You heard him growl before he bit down on the soft skin at your inner thighs to get your attention.

“Look at me.” He mumbled. And when you didn’t obey him right away, you earned yourself a gentle smack on your thigh, which only made you squirm even more; causing you to accidentally grind against his mouth. He chuckled again. “Impatient, are we?”

You supported yourself up on your elbows finally, and looked down at him. His handsome face in between your thighs was a sight you weren’t sure you would ever get used to. You could feel his warm breath fanning your wet skin occasionally as he stared into your eyes until you couldn’t handle the intensity of his stare.

Bucky held your stare as he attached his lips to your core again, making you whimper in pleasure. He wasn’t planning on stopping until you beg him to. He had missed you, your taste. He had missed this; your warmth and your soft whimpers as he teased you with his tongue.

“Do you wanna cum for me, babygirl?” He asked, before pressing his lips back against your wet folds.

You nodded, quickly. “Yes, please…” your legs had begun shaking just a little as he took his time and dragged his tongue up and down your slit. But the way his lips lifted into a smirk gave away that his answer would only disappoint you.

“No, you’re not allowed to cum.” He cooed, playfully. “Not so easily.” He whispered before he got back to teasing your sensitive spot with his warm and wet tongue; relishing your taste and humming in pleasure as he ate you out. He let out a little laugh, “I forgot how good you taste.”

You moaned out loud as your back arched off the bed for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you. You weren’t sure how long you could take this sweet torture. Your fingers tightened around his and he chuckled against your skin.

“What is it baby, you can’t take it? Hmm? All that sass, all those mind games and now you can’t even handle my tongue?”

He taunted you before getting back to teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. Your body tingled and you felt a sweet pressure forming in between your legs. You were sure he could see the tears of frustration escaping your eyes, falling down your warm cheeks.

“Please…” you moaned pathetically.

He licked around your clit one last time before pulling away and kissing his way up your body again. The twisted side of him loved the way you whined when you realized he wasn’t gonna let you cum so easily. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth eventually, making you gasp and moan and forget how to breathe with just one kiss.

When he pulled away to look at you he smiled at the mess you were. Lips swollen, and bruised with how many times you or him bit down on it. Red marks all over your neck, bite marks along your inner thigh, and your arousal dripping out of you. He quickly placed his fingers where his mouth had been earlier, teasing your clit before shoving two fingers inside of you and stroking your walls so slowly that you were losing your mind.

“Why won’t you admit it?” he kissed along your cheek and reached your ear where he whispered, “Are you that proud? That heartless?” Judging by his tone you could tell that his emotions were wavering as well. “I searched the whole world to find you.” His fingers sped up as he spoke, your moans got more frequent and holding them back became much more difficult. “And now you’re still gonna be a stubborn, disrespectful brat?”

The bitterness in his tone woke something inside of you. Did he not realize that you’re not exactly pleased with what you had to do? Did he not understand? Pissed, your annoyance mirroring his, you pushed his hand away and pushed him down on the bed. He wasn’t expecting it so he went down rather easily. You got on top of him, straddling his waist, ignoring the nudity, and stared down at him.

“Enough! You can’t just walk in here and do or say whatever the fuck you want.” Your sudden outburst took him by surprise. Part of him had always loved it when you got a little aggressive. “I’m not proud of what I did. That’s why I left, the guilt was killing me. It still kills me, every single day. I haven’t had the best year of my life since I left you either. I had to leave my homeland, my family, and I… I had to leave you.”

He remained quiet.

“I moved to a place where I knew no one. I’ve been alone for the past year, living amongst strangers, no friends, no family, nothing! All because I couldn’t let them get to me. You were right, because if my people found me they would somehow find a way to get the information they needed and they would’ve surely taken you down. You would’ve never seen it coming.” You sniffled, realizing that you were tearing up again.

Bucky had, surprisingly, nothing to say. You went on.

“You want answers? There you have it then. I couldn’t just stay and watch myself become that reason for your fall. I couldn’t let that happen to you, because I love you too much. When I realized I loved you, I panicked. I ran because I didn’t know what else to do, or how to keep them away from you. And I am so sorry for what I did. I understand if you-,”

He cut your long speech off by sitting up and grabbing you just in time before you lost your balance, pressing his lips to yours. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and let him hold you, kiss you like he wanted to for so long. His kiss was gentle this time, careful, loving. His metal hand ran up and down your spine slowly as his other hand grabbed you and pulled you close to him by your butt.

He slowly pulled away and his heart felt like it tore in half at the sight of your teary face. He had been so busy being heartbroken after you left that he didn’t even take a minute to consider this perspective. He was too hurt to even think properly.

“You could’ve just told me the truth. I would’ve handled them. I would’ve done anything for you, I… I would’ve done whatever it took to keep you safe. You know that, right?” Bucky finally spoke up, sounding much more emotional than he thought he ever could.

Truth is, before meeting you he always thought that he was incapable of love. But then you walked into his life and everything changed for the better. So when he lost you, without any explanation, he went insane.

You sighed. “I was scared. I didn’t understand, I thought I was doing the right thing. I was hurting too. You think disappearing out of your life and leaving you behind without saying a proper goodbye was easy?” Your voice cracked as you fought back a sob. “How many times do I have to-,”

He cut you off. Once he saw the tears accumulating along your water line again. “Okay, okay shh. I just got you back, I don’t wanna fight.” He mumbled, pressing his forehead to yours.

You sniffled, your heart skipping a beat as his body heat wrapped around you. “I’ve missed you. Every day. I missed you so much. I couldn’t risk reaching out to you to even apologize, I was so scared. I… I didn’t…,” your sentence ended in a whisper, you didn’t know how to articulate your thoughts too well.

He tightened his arms around you. “It’s okay, baby. Everything is fine now, I found you.”

You were quiet for a while, enjoying his calming touch and processing all that happened since you stepped inside your apartment tonight. “Are you mad at me?” you asked, seeking to find some sort of sense in all that just happened.

He sighed, and kissed your forehead. “I was. When I woke up the next morning after you left, I was confused, hurt. Then you didn’t show up for a couple more days and I had my people look you up, and I was told that you were a spy.” His words made you feel uneasy and ashamed of your past. “I was broken, but I never knew what a heartbreak feels like so instead all I felt was anger. But despite all of it, all I wanted was to have you back. Then I found the organization you worked for, and I made sure to destroy it. Since then I’ve been looking for you like a madman.”

He pulled away to look at you. You managed to look up into his eyes without tearing up again. “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

He pulled you closer. “I’m sorry too.”

“I love you.”

Bucky smiled at you. “Say it again.”

You reached up and cupped his face in your hands. “I love you. I love you so much and I’m sorry. For everything. I just… I just want you back, please.”

He leaned in for a kiss, whispering against your lips, “I’m right here, babygirl.” He gently turned to the side and laid you back down on the bed. “I’ve got you now,” he mumbled, pulling away to take his suit jacket off, then his shirt. He tossed both somewhere on the floor and bent down to kiss you again. He kissed down your neck, leisurely; taking his time on you as he unzipped his pants.

“Buck…” you groaned as he teased you with the soft, feathery touch of his lips. He had been teasing you for so long now, you couldn’t take anymore. Your body felt burning hot again, you needed him. Bad. You needed him like you needed air.

“Yes, baby?” He asked, kissing down your cleavage; pretending he doesn’t know that you were practically shaking in need.

You whined, sliding your finger into his dark, soft hair. “I need you. Please, I need you. Now.” You spoke through gritted teeth by the end, tugging at the roots of his hair.

He chuckled. “So aggressive.” He murmured, kissing up your neck until he reached your mouth. He noticed the way you had unintentionally, gradually parted your legs to accommodate him; your naked body squirming under him, your bare chest pressing up against his, your body heat mixing with his. “I’m gonna take care of you, baby…” he whispered as he lowered his underwear just enough to free his cock. He was rock hard.

You were a whimpering mess by the time he aligned his erected cock to your entrance. You instinctively spread your legs further apart to give him more room. With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered, moaning as you felt all of him filling you up. You heard his ragged breaths as he seated himself completely inside you and waited, giving your body time to adjust to him.

He could still make you tremble in pleasure just like the first time he touched you. Bucky held back his moans and growls as he felt your warmth wrap around him so perfectly. He clenched his jaw as he relished the feeling of being inside of you, finally.

“Is this what you needed, babygirl?” he asked, looking down at you, and gently grabbing your face, causing you to look up at him.

You couldn’t talk given how full you were. You just stared at him with parted lips, breathing heavily. Bucky smirked, pulling out just a little before pushing back into you again. You closed your eyes and moaned, arching your back off the surface of the bed again.

He smirked as he looked down at you. “You waited, didn’t you? You waited only for daddy to stretch you out like this. I know you didn’t let anyone touch you while I wasn’t here.” He remained still as he leaned into your ear, whispering, “The way you’re clenching around my cock right now gives it away.” He chuckled, proud.

Your face burned. He knew you too well.

Bucky leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth while he began moving in and out of you. He sped up gradually, rocking his hips against yours; his hand reached up to grab your chin gently. He stared into your eyes, speeding up into you again. You gripped the bed sheets as he pounded into you.

He stretched you out deliciously, perfectly. Filling you up and reaching all the right places as he went. He couldn’t hold back any longer, so he moaned and growled right against your mouth, clenching his jaw or occasionally biting down on your lip as he pounded into you relentlessly.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He spoke as he sped up into you again. You could whine senselessly, overwhelmed by how good he felt deep inside you.

He leaned down to push his face into your neck as he lifted one of your legs and hooked it to his waist, pushing himself deeper inside you. “Fuck…” he moaned as you clenched hard around him. He down for a moment just to hear you moan wantonly before he sped up again, fucking you relentlessly. “You’re mine. Only mine, you hear me?”

You nodded, or at least tried to.

The louder you got, the closer he felt his release coming and the filthier his mouth got. “Your little cunt is mine. Only mine.” He spoke through messy kisses; growling and causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. “Only I can fuck you like this, you hear me?” Bucky quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the modest room.

Bucky was all you could focus on. The sound of his voice. His body pressing down on yours. His cock inside you. Your walls began to clench tighter around him. His moans, his hot breath against your cheek, his messy kisses. Just him. You had missed him so terribly, and only now did you wonder how in the world did you survive so long without him?

He took you higher, and higher, and higher until you felt more tears escape your eyes. “Please, Buck…” you whined, begging pathetically and unable to arrange your words or your thoughts any better. “Please…”

Your eyes were droopy in lust. His eyes were too as he stared down at you with a handsome and arrogant smirk on his face. “Please what, babygirl?”

His pretty blue eyes put you under a trance. “Please, can I cum?”

Bucky caressed your cheek with his knuckles, his metal hand holding him up above you. He didn’t know how he managed to survive without you all these months. He was barely living without you. He looked down at you with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes.

“Go on, baby. Cum for me.”

You let the pressure build inside you, before simply letting go. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, Bucky kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came. You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even as you came, and your face burned as you felt a familiar knot forming again right at your core.

He fucked into you relentlessly. “Fuck…” He panted and groaned at how good you felt around him; wet and warm all for him. Your walls clenched around him violently and your body arched off the bed.

You felt your second release approaching even before you could recover from the first one. Your leg around his waist was numb but you still wanted more of what he had to give. You would take whatever he gave you in that moment, given you had gone so long without him.

You felt your mind getting foggy again. His large frame hovering above you as he fucked deeper into you, just a little more. “Cum for me again, baby.” He growled, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him. Your body trembled as you came for the second time, walls tightening around his length, gushing out around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you until he came as well.

You felt his thrust getting sloppy and irregular until he came to a stop and just groaned as he came violently. His warm cum filled you up and some of it trickled out of you when he carefully removed his cock from your entrance.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, catching his breath before pulling you into him. You were slightly shaking as he wrapped his arms around you, kissing your skin wherever he could, murmuring sweet nothings.

“You okay, babe?” he asked after a few minutes of just holding you in his arms, in silence; both of you just enjoying each other’s warmth and presence.

You nodded, placing your arm over his chest and scooting closer to him, pressing up against his side.

You both remained quiet for a while longer. Thinking about the past, and the future.

“Are you sure you’re not mad at me?” You asked, your brain starting to overthink again.

Bucky sighed. “Baby I couldn’t stay mad at you even if you intentionally stabbed me through the heart and watched me bleed to death.”

You took a second to process what he just spoke of, and you made a face at him, showing your horror and concern, which then made him laugh out loud. “You’re sick.” You muttered, placing a gentle kiss to his metal arm. The cold metal against your lips reminded of somewhere you desperately wanted to be - home.

He shrugged, pulling you closer. “Yeah. Also cruel, devious and pure evil. But you love me nonetheless.” He teased.

You smiled, your worn out body snuggled up against him. You felt your eyelids drooping as sleep slowly took over you. Today has been a lot. “I do.” You spoke softly.

Bucky looked down and saw that you were slowly drifting off to sleep. He adjusted the covers so that you were well covered with the warm blankets. He tucked you in and wrapped his arms around you protectively, as though you might slip away from his grasp again.

“I love you, babygirl. Sleep tight, we’re going home soon.”

You didn’t respond so he figured you must have fallen asleep. While he hugged your sleeping figure, he thought back on everything you said tonight. Your biggest fear was that you might end up being the reason for his fall. But little did you know that ultimately, you had been the only reason he knew what truly falling in love was like.

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #tfatws #marvel au #bucky barnes x reader

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juleswolverton-hyde · 3 years

Text

Not by the Moon | 07

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A philosophical slant, (heavy) angst, Werewolf!Jaebeom being absolute hubby material, Werewolf!Jaebeom being awkward and (a bit of a) pervert, domestic fluff, talk of medication, apparently werewolves don’t like to wear clothes (what is my canon...), talk of life and death, mention of blood, mild swearing

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Jaebeom’s POV.

Well, here it is, earlier and much longer than originally planned. It’s also a lot more tragic and philosophical than I intended it to be, but then again, what else can you expect from a tragedian fascinated by the human condition even as it is translated into the realm of the magical?

I think I just thought of the modern literary movement I might belong to: magic realism.

It’s a crying shame the Decadent Movement isn’t active anymore, though, because that one truly feels like a good fit for me both as an author and an individual. Ah well, c’est la vie.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

There is nothing better for a wolf than being with its mate.

Well, there is one thing.

Having them completely at your mercy as you’re inside them.

I still don’t understand what the plastic wrapping is good for, but Jinyoung was very insistent on using it while we drove to the airport. And Y/N seemed glad I had whatever it is, her scent even betraying a hint of relief. However, one day, I hope she’ll tell me not to use it.

No, that’s not right. There’s a word for the… whatever it is.

A condom.

That’s the word.

I hope she’ll tell me not to use a condom. It doesn’t matter whether I’m in season or not, although the chances she’ll pup are higher if I am. I want pups with her, a little pack of our own. I want it to be our toddler running around the park, chasing its sibling. Then again, will I remain human long enough to see them grow up?

Will I even remember their birth on the day they’re born?

Will I still be here?

Or remain without a family, a proud bloodline?

I slowly open my eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the sunlight bathing the room in a warm golden hue, swallow hard and force myself to calm down. There is no use in contemplating this now, not this early in the day nor in our time together. What counts is that I’m here now with Y/N in my arms and we’re in her apartment somewhere.

A faint whiff of brine seeps in through the air cleaner filter above the window overlooking the city. A gull flies by and lands on the roof of the building opposite ours.

Sea. Rusted metal. Right, the old harbour.

A high-pitched noise, a disquiet hum followed by a sigh, makes my ears perk up. I look down at the lady sleeping on my chest, curled up and fingers balled into small fists similar to a bunny’s paws. More importantly, however, she’s perfectly alright and was only unconsciously trying to get more comfortable.

A breathless chuckle rises in my throat at the display. Y/N’s adorable even when she’s fast asleep, her lips parted yet not enough to allow drooling.

I, on the other hand, am another story. I don’t do it often, but I must have been so tired last night I triggered the habit. The finger I swipe over the corners of my mouth comes away wet both times.

Oh no, I didn’t drool on her, did I? Would she mind, though, if I explained it’s a sign I’m comfortable with her?

It isn’t hard to guess the answer to the question. She would beat me over the head, likely with a shoe, and say I’m not allowed to bite her at all anymore. Not even in the future.

In a hurry to discover whether I made the fatal mistake, I check her messy hair but keeping my movements controlled to not wake her up. Fortunately, there are no locks sticking together nor a trail running down over the side of her face.

With a deep sigh, I slump further down into the bed again and kiss her crown. However, I don’t go back to sleep despite the comfort of the sheets. Instead, I lift the lady’s head and gently put her down on the pillow as I get up, carefully calculating every movement like I do when hunting to make sure she won’t wake up or notice my absence in her unconscious state.

The faint smell of burned iron comes from somewhere when I rearrange the sheets to bundle Y/N up. My mouth dries up, throat blocked by something I can’t swallow as a familiar stench disturbs the morning happiness. Former intentions abandoned, I claw through the sheets to try and discover where the rank odour comes from.

Did I hurt her? Is she bleeding? Why is she bleeding? Where is it? Where’s the blood?

As suspected, the frantic search wakes the pretty lady. Propped up on an elbow, eyes half-closed and brows furrowed, she turns to me. “Jae, what-’’ she yawns, “What’re you doing?”

Barely has she asked the question or I find what I’ve been looking for.

On her side of the bed, between her thighs, is a puddle of dried blood.

Where did it come from? Did I… Did I do this?

I grab her by the shoulders and pull her close to check her condition, turning her this way and that as each thought grows more troubled. “Are you okay?” There’s nothing to see on the bare skin of her upper body. “Are you hurt?”

Maybe the wound is somewhere lower, on her hip or leg. I didn’t bite her last night. Right? I didn’t hurt her. At least, I don’t think I did. No. Surely the wolf- I wouldn’t harm her. I had enough control to prevent that from happening. Yes, that’s the case.

But then, with a fading mind, how much can I trust myself?

“Jaebeom, I’m fine. What are you- ah.” Y/N notices the spot of dark crimson when I pull the sheets completely off the bed and toss them aside. She lets out an incomprehensibly careless chuckle, evidently oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

“What are you giggling about? Y/N, you’re bleeding!” I bark, lost.

A small paw cups my cheek, her thumb caressing the skin in an attempt to calm me down. “You took my virginity. It’s natural to bleed a little when that happens.”

“Are you still in pain?” Even though it’s natural, surely it’s not without repercussions. Otherwise, the stain wouldn’t be there.

“No, I’m not, silly. I’m okay.” She kisses the tip of my nose when I let out a whine, unhappy with the response. Withal, a curious tone in her voice overtakes my own displeasure. “Are you?”

Why do you say it like that?

She sounds weird, hinting at something I’m supposed to find as obvious as she. Yet, I have no clue about what it can be. So, I tilt my head and stare blankly at her, waiting for an explanation. “I’m fine.”

My choice of words makes her visibly flinch despite the effort to hide it. The sleepiness which glazed her eyes evaporated, leaving them devoid of the amusement at my failure as a human. The recognizable sour note of anxiety creeps back into her scent, setting off alarm bells in my mind. “I’m alright. No pain. Happy to be here. Happy to wake up next to you.”

I rub her arms in a poor attempt to make her calm down, have her scent return to its spring-like fruitiness. She is supposed to smell like fresh fruit still hanging from the trees, yet to ripen. Not like fallen fruit beginning to decay in the summer sun.

“Okay,” is all she says in response before she pulls away, the absence of the warmth of her palm sending a cold shiver throughout my body.

The world always seems a little colder without her.

“Want breakfast?” A low grumble pierces the silence following the question, giving me enough of a response. And a reason to get my head, no, that’s not the idiom. To get my thoughts ordered. Organized. To get my thoughts in order? To think about… stuff. Last night. This. Everything. “Never mind. I’m making you breakfast. You have to eat.”

I stand up and head for the bathroom to first get rid of the weird plastic wrapping she put on me last night. Having thrown it in the bin there after a bit of an awkward struggle removing it, I move to the kitchen. Nevertheless, I don’t start preparing food right away. Instead, I pick up the grey hoodie I gave her from the bag between the sofa and chair facing the kitchen. I remember how she held it up to her nose, breathed in and basked in the scent.

My scent.

A fragment of last night’s memory.

I remember we had sex and that she told me I’m her first, but afterwards things are blurry.

Smell. I said something about how nicely she smells. Not really an original compliment since I’ve said it a lot already, but I can’t help but focus on it.

And then…

Then…

Then instinct took over because I let it, thinking I’d remain in control even though I let go a little. After all, I’ve learned enough to know how to deal with the wolf inside thanks to the rehabilitation procedure Jinyoung put me through and supervised. Since then, there’s been a healthy balance between human and beast in my mind.

Or, rather, there was one.

I think.

Another boundary to watch out for. I have to keep myself in check. No more experimenting.

Because to do so is to forget.

And I want to remember.

I stop absent-mindedly thumbing the piece of clothing, drape it over the armrest of the sofa and head into the kitchen to make breakfast. Unfortunately, the fridge quickly brings my plan to a halt, empty except for a pack of soy milk and a tray of eggs. The groceries Jinyoung and I got were only enough for dinner last night and there are no leftovers.

To be fair, she did just come back from a trip abroad. But still, is there really nothing to work with?

I sigh in defeat and grab the plant-based milk to pour it over the apple and cinnamon granola I find in the cupboard above the sink. At least it’s food and drink in one meal.

From the drawer next to the oven, I grab two spoons which I put into the bowls, grab the hoodie from the couch and return to the bedroom.

Y/N sits with her back turned to me, but flips around a little too fast for my liking once she hears my paws approaching. “Jaebeom?”

The terrible mixture of barely suppressed horror and genuine concern in her gaze has translated into her voice, which is cold and calculating. The sour note of anxiety hasn’t faded from her scent, creating a stone to sink to the bottom of my stomach because there’s only one thing that can be a distressing factor this early in the day.

Me.

Withal, the reason why she’s scared puzzles me since I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary. I’ve simply been me since I woke up.

Human.

Although, that’s me now.

Last night, I don’t know who or what I was though it isn’t hard to guess.

The pretty lady traces the deep indentation in the headboard of the bed with her fingers bent to resemble a claw. “Did you do this?”

Did- Did I? No. I- I don’t know. I was less strict with myself last night and don’t remember much, but surely I wasn’t gone enough to do this.

I hope.

I think.

I’m not sure.

But the reality provides the necessary evidence to repute any kind of denial I can offer.

I set the bowls down on the nightstand and crawl back on the bed to sit next to her. Gently, I nudge her hand aside to mimic her action, my own fingers perfectly fitting into the large gash. “I don’t know.”

A surge of violence shoots throughout my body, triggering the nagging feeling of a forgotten memory strong enough to knock the air out the lungs and split my skull with flashes of a memory. Nevertheless, the fragments pass by too fast to make sense of them and the mere attempt to do so worsens the headache. I flinch and scramble backwards with a paw- a hand pressed to my head as if I can thus suppress the pain. Yet, I remain unable to look at anything but the damage.

“I don’t know,” I repeat, my voice hardly louder than a scared whisper.

“I felt your skin move beneath my fingers last night,” Y/N starts, catching my attention with the timid response suggestive of requiring more explanation.

Exactly what I don’t have since I can’t even explain it myself.

This shouldn’t be happening.

“I think I did, at least,” she adds doubtfully on a shivery breath. The sourness sweetens to doubt instead of anxiety. Nonetheless, it’s still worrying she’s ill… uncomfortable.

“Did I-“ I swallow hard, forcing out the words describing my worst nightmare. “Did I transform?”

“Transform?’’ She briefly turns her gaze from me to the indentation, lips parted in an attempt to articulate a thought that’s dismissed with a headshake the second thereafter. Her attention returns to me, her expression slackened. ‘’What are you- What… No, you didn’t, but you looked far away. Retreated further into your own world, more so than you normally are.”

“That’s good,” I mumble, nodding as I, too, briefly return my attention to the claw mark. “Was human. Good.”

Still, need to talk to the weird-smelling intruder. Doctor. Friend. Name, his name. Jinyoung. Jesus, man, get yourself together. Your name is Im Jaebeom. You’re a twenty-eight old werewolf that- no, who runs a bookshop called Paper Souls. Jinyoung is your friend, doctor and supervisor appointed to you by... by... some organization.

“Jaebeom,” the pretty lady puts her hand on my shoulder, features softened instead of frozen and marred by fear, “have you taken your medication yet?”

The natural fruity undertone seems forced to be stronger.

You should be scared. I might have- I made that claw mark. Why treat me like a human? I’m a wolf.

“Me- Med-“ The strange word barely registers until a spark of humanity recalls its definition. “Medication. Pills. No, I- I haven’t.”

“Let me grab a glass of water and get them.”

She ruffles my hair, jumps off the bed and rushes out of the room. I listen to her bare feet lightly treading the floor as she moves on the other side of the wall, hurried steps going from the hallway, where she rummages in my coat for the rattling bottle of pills, to the kitchen. There, she opens a cupboard to grab a glass. The loud clinking of glass alongside the sour undertone in her scent indicates she almost accidentally caused several to fall out and break on the tiles. Fortunately, judging by the deep sigh of relief, Y/N could prevent it from happening.

She turns on the tab, fills the glass with water, turns the tab off and walks back into the room.

“There you go,” she says, handing me the small brown bottle and water.

The mattress dips a bit when she sits down next to me with one of the bowls filled with cereal in her hands. After stirring the spoon around like she is trying to evade something, Y/N finally takes a first careful bite. Nevertheless, she starts eating properly after I kiss her temple, which is an apparently effective form of encouragement. I have to remember that.

Quietly seated in the golden sunlight, we have our first breakfast together. I don’t mind her watching me as I’m taking my medication, measuring out the amount Jinyoung told me to take. Or, rather, as much as the label notes I should. Immediately my gag reflex is triggered when I put them in my mouth, the taste of bitter metal extremer than before so it’s like licking one of the rusted over buoys drifting in the harbour.

He’s increased the nightshade and silver. Damn, I think even the worst coffee tastes better than this.

“That bad?”

“Yep.” I open and close my mouth, nauseous due to the sickening taste lingering on my tongue. To prevent the bile rising in my throat from escaping, I gulp down the water. Unfortunately, it only washes down part of the bitterness.

She holds up a spoon with milk-soaked granola to feed to me, but I turn it down and shake my head. I might actually throw up if I eat anything right now.

Disappointment flashes across her face, though it’s gone in an instant as she puts her bowl down and stands up. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

“But... food,” I meekly offer and point at the half-empty bowl on the nightstand. She should put herself before me.

Because I’ll be fine.

“We’re missing something important. Coffee,” the bunny-like lady playfully responds before she bounces off again to the kitchen.

The pleasant and slightly sweet scent of instant cappuccino warms the apartment, replacing the sharp scent of frozen water alluding to hail later on in the day. It’s a little early in the year, but soon the first snows will fall.

Hopefully, she’ll move before then so we can spend Christmas in her cottage. Although, it doesn’t even have to be the holidays. I’d light a fire, drape a blanket over our shoulders and keep Y/N close to warm her with mine as we read and look at the snowfall.

Like a snowflake falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling before our eyes, so we pass through life. At this rate, I think the next snowfall might be the last I’ll see.

Consciously.

Meaningfully.

Like a human.

The snowflake will faintly fall on the man I am, descend on the husk I’m becoming, while she will continue living.

Without me.

The living and the dead.

I smile wistfully until the same shot of pain treks through me as when I tried to fill in the gaps of the fragmented memory. Folded in on myself, cold sweat on my skin and short of breath, I press my palms against my snout to push the agony away.

The pained groaning must have alarmed the pretty lady because she rushes to my side and pushes one of the mugs in her little paws… hands in mine. “Here, take a sip. The caffeine will help.”

As told, I nip at the hot beverage. Indeed, the cappuccino lessens the headache and cold shivers that ran down my spine and threatened to spread. Though I dislike instant coffee, it actually tastes good when she prepares it. I sigh in relief, blow on the coffee to cool it down, and slowly drink it while Y/N caresses my jaw and ear just the way I like it. At the same time, she comforts me with her soothing voice, murmuring words of solace and assurance as she sits down next to me again.

I could listen to you all day. Maybe I should ask you to read to me sometime. Although, not maybe. I’ll ask it later. Note to self, write a note on your phone to ask her to read to you. Also, make note of kissing her temple.

My reverie is broken up by a comment which rubs me the wrong way. “I have to go to the office later today-’’

“Already? You just got home.”

“They’re counting on me, Jae. Besides, I’m not that jet-lagged.”

“It’s not healthy. You should stay home. Rest,” I bark. Her eyes widen, taken aback by my bluntness.

She opens and closes her mouth, planning to say something yet deciding against it. Instead, she tugs my ear. “I’ll be fine. And you have your shop to look after, so let’s both work hard today.”

“Still,” I take another sip, “I don’t think you should go.”

“As long as I have caffeine, I should be able to manage. How about this? I’ll come to your shop as soon as I’m done with work and cook for us. We’ll have a cosy night in like we had last night.”

“Last night was ‘cosy’ indeed,” I murmur, hoping she catches on to what I’m alluding to.

“It was. I really liked it.” Her lashes flutter with the memories of last night, cheeks tinged pink. Unfortunately, the heartstopping girlish giggle is short-lived and becomes serious too soon. “But while I did, I think we shouldn’t do it again so soon.”

“Agreed,” I respond, mind occupied by the ripples of transformation and the splashes of pain wanting to remember something significant only communicated in incomprehensible flashes.

Distorted.

Like the memories of the forest.

I need to call Jinyoung. He needs to know.

“What shall we eat tonight?”

The change in subject is welcome, but also a confusing bridge to cross. How can humans go from severe to casual without a care? The aspect of communication has me furrow my brows as I try to work out the mech… work… nuts and bolts behind it. Nevertheless, I answer the question. “I thought you had a plan already.”

The corners of her mouth curl up into a cat-like grin. “I have no idea, so that’s why I’m asking you. You’re a better chef than I am.”

“I’m not that good,” I murmur, my ears lowered like a shy pup. “But I’d like something we can make together.”

“Pancakes?”

“Yes!’’ I bark, leaning in and grabbing the sheets to contain the excitement at cooking together. ‘’Yes, I’d like that!”

A flicker of doubt passes over her face, hesitant in the way she tends to be when it concerns food. However, a second later, she taps me on the nose with a content hum. “Pancakes it is.”

While Y/N showers, I clean the dishes and pull the sheets off of the bed so she can bring them to the laundry. Although, maybe I could do it myself. I’d have to text Jinyoung for instructions since he always does mine, but even then it shouldn’t be too difficult. Humans do laundry all the time. It’s part of their routine and if they can do it, so can I.

I hope.

As I’m making the bed and contemplating the process to get at least the blood stain out of the fabric, my mate walks back into the room. Her wet hair is bundled up in a towel that’s smaller than the one wrapped around her body. The addition of the scents of cherry blossoms and matcha to the blend of summer fruits drives me dizzy as she moves to the wardrobe.

I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help looking as the towel falls to the floor to reveal her naked body. An appreciative growl unconsciously rises from my throat, a surge of heat culminating between my legs.

Just one more time. I’ll keep myself in check. Behave. I’ll behave.

“Jaebeom,” cheeks flushed, Y/N glances over her shoulder, “don’t even think about it.”

“Sorry,” I mumble as I shuffle to her side to help her put on her bra by closing the clasps. When they click in place, I place a kiss between her shoulder blades, feeling her shiver against my lips. “I know what we agreed on.”

I wrap my arms around her waist and let my head rest on her shoulder. Eyes closed, I try to keep a clear mind as she scratches me behind the ear.

“It’s not necessarily... that.” Her voice is light, wanting to move past the concerns of last night with humour. “It’s rather the thought I wouldn’t get to leave for the office at all if we go back to bed.”

“You’re right.” I decide to play along, if only to give us both some peace of mind. So, I bury my nose in the side of her neck, nuzzling her and earning myself a bird-like giggle that spreads a nice fuzzy feeling inside. “I wouldn’t let you go. We’d read the day away with coffee.”

“Tea, in your case. Doctor’s orders. I don’t want you bouncing around the place. You’re my calm, well, sort of calm bookish wolf. Not a supercharged husky.”

It’s a lame joke, but nevertheless makes me laugh.

“What will you wear today?” I ask, glancing at the clothes on the hangers.

Here and there, there’s a colourful item in the collection. Withal, the majority of the items are mono… one-toned... black and white items to be switched up with a dark-shaded checkered blouse.

My attention drifts to the long white dress with lemons. The fabric is on the thin side, which makes it suitable for summer or a warm spring.

I’d love to see you in that dress, if only just once.

She pouts her lips. “I was thinking about grey high-waisted jeans with a black button-up shirt and ankle boots.”

“Wear my hoodie,” I whine, upset my… my girlfriend. That sounds nice. My girlfriend. It makes me upset that my girlfriend doesn’t plan on wearing one of the things I gave her. “You like the grey one, right?”

“I do, but-’’

“Then wear it.”

She sighs, shakes her head and turns around to look up at me. “There’s something like a dress code at the office.”

“Don’t care.” I nudge her nose with mine, bark lowered to a woof to persuade her to go with my choice. “You’ll look better. More pretty.”

“If you put a pair of boxers on, I’ll wear the hoodie. Deal?”

“But they’re uncomfortable. I only wore them because Jinyoung told me to.”

“Then I won’t wear the hoodie.” Little devilish will-o’-the-wisps light up her eyes as the corners of her mouth curl up into a taunting grin. “Shame. Now my colleagues won’t get to see I have a boyfriend.”

The tables have flipped since I’m apparently not the only one who’s good at using their charms.

Nevertheless, reluctant to start a fight over this, I let out a compromising chuff. “Okay, fine.”

Humans and their clothes. I like yours, but you’d look even better in mine. Still, I’m only doing this because I want every male at your office and in the city to know you’re mine.

No matter what size they are, clothing is a thing I absolutely haven’t missed. Notwithstanding, to please my mate, I wriggle myself back into the tight short trousers and the loose pants to wear over them. Y/N gives me a warning look when she sees me fumbling with my shirt, hopefully missing out on the obvious clue I secretly hope she’ll let me off easy.

Of course she doesn’t.

“Yes, Jae, also the shirt,” she chastises me like a mother disciplines a rebellious pup. “And the shoes. You don’t want other people to call the cops after seeing a naked man in the streets.” Unaware of the fact I can hear her perfectly even as she mutters under her breath, she adds. ‘’Or me to pick you up at the police station because of it.’’

Amused by the funny image the fantastical scenario creates in my mind, I relent. “Yes, ma’am.”

Once we’re both dressed, Y/N makes way for the bathroom to do her makeup. Ignoring my protests it’s unnecessary since there’s nothing to hide or improve to make me love her more, she closes the door behind her and locks it.

There goes the plan of dragging her out of there by the collar to have her scratch my jaw and ear again instead. A much better way to pass the time, if you ask me.

In the meanwhile, I return to the bedroom to take a picture of the damage with my phone and send it to Jinyoung.

Jaebeom: We need to talk.

Immediately, I get a response.

Jinyoung: Yes, we absolutely do. Everything OK?

Jaebeom: Yes, Y/N is fine. Alive. A little shaken, but so am I. Well, we’re more than a little shaken. Fuck, Jinyoung, I don’t know what happened.

Jinyoung: I’ll drop by later today. I have to give a lecture in a bit and have to see a new patient afterwards. He’s going through the reintegration program right now and needs a little extra help.

Jaebeom: Help with what? What is he?

Jinyoung: A wolf. Not a standard case.

Jaebeom: Anything I can help with?

Jinyoung: I think you need to focus on yourself right now. I’ll be at the shop around two.

Footsteps disturb the silence, going from the bathroom to the hallway.

That was quick. Are females always this fast with applying their face?

It’s a funny phrase, ‘applying my face’. Also, it’s the argument the pretty lady used as the final word on the matter. But she already has a face so there’s no need to apply a second like some Greek god.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Ears perked, I glance around the corner into the living room and in Y/N’s direction.

“Work?” she answers sheepishly, looking back at me with her head slightly tilted to the side. In her hands is the black trench coat she was about to put on.

Fortunately, she’s kept her makeup natural with a golden brown eyeshadow, a bit of a black line to accentuate her eyes and something to enhance her lashes. It’s a natural look which some of the female customers could learn from with their fake lips or chest that makes them reek of silicone and plastic. Their makeup, often overemphasizing their fake features, doesn’t add to their supposed charm. In fact, it makes me turn my snout away even faster if their attitude already hasn’t.

I’d never offer them coffee or want them around more than once.

But not her.

Not Y/N.

I can’t remember if she wore the same makeup when we met, but I vaguely recall a sense of calm and need for protection alongside a strange recognition. A connection that would make all the puzzle pieces of my life fit together.

The missing last piece.

“Not so fast.” I swiftly move to her side to kiss her forehead. No way I’m letting her go without giving her at least one more.

“There,” I pet her head, griggling and sweeping my tail triumphantly, “now you’re free to go.”

“I wouldn’t have gone without telling you, you know?” She stands on the tip of her toes to peck me on the lips, slightly swaying side to side to keep her balance.

So I lean forward to make it easier for her and chuckle against her lips. “Have a good day at work, Y/N.”

“You too, Jae.”

And with that, she puts on her coat, grabs her bag and opens the front door. She lingers in the doorway, waving half-heartedly as a final word of goodbye.

I wave back, faking a smile to see her off without worry.

Being human again isn’t so bad.

However, the deadline is another story.

The shop is as tranquil as it is on any other day. The quietness of unread words hangs between the shelves, the only noise to disrupt the silence being the rustle of a page being turned. Seated by the window as per usual, listening to the hail in the dim light, I read the time away, but whereas it’s normally a form of amusement and pleasure, it now functions in part to forget this morning’s discovery.

I didn’t mean to pry, but I inspected Y/N’s bookshelves before I left her apartment. There was the usual assortment of classics, but also a lot of Asian fiction, a genre I haven’t delved into too much yet. So, of course with the intention of returning it, I took Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami with me.

She must have read it recently because her fruity scent still lingers on the paper. The summer blend distracts me to the point that the movement of the hands of the clock pass unnoticed in the background.

Regardless of the appointed time, it’s half past two instead of two o’clock that Jinyoung comes in. In his one hand he holds a carrier with two paper cups, the sleeves on them decorated with the silhouette of a black wolf and the name of the café printed in vintage letters beneath the design, the letters spelling out Wolf’s. Judging by the scent, it’s tea the doctor has brought with him. Apple cinnamon for me, since that’s the only one I like, and rooibos for himself.

In his other hand, he holds his bag. One of the claps has either not been fastened before he left or came undone along the way. Whatever the reason, it’s clear he came here in a hurry.

“Sorry I’m late. Christian and I had a lot more to discuss than we thought.” Jinyoung stumbles inside, puts the tea and his bag on the counter, and turns around to lock the door and flip the sign so we can talk in private.

A hint of leather mixed with coffee and wood is mixed in with his own.

Male.

Threat.

Teeth gritted and jaw clenched, I make a mental note to myself to keep this scent away from Y/N. To keep this Christian away from her.

“Jaebeom,” the other male sighs. His tone holds a silent warning of being close to breaking some kind of boundary.

“What?” The answer rolls off the tongue as a growl rather than an actual question. Not that it matters since he must have had a lot worse to endure from me. Besides, it’s not him I’m pissed at so he’s safe.

Although, the wild undertone in his already peculiar personal blend alludes to the opposite.

Has he always smelled like this or is this new? He is human, but then why does my instinct tell me to watch out for him, that there’s more than to him? Strange.

“He’s no competition. I think he might have imprinted with my colleague, although neither he nor she might be aware of it.” He rolls his eyes. “The gods know whether Gráinne will do anything with it. I wonder if... no, I don’t think either of them told her anything.”

A grim wistfulness stains his voice, which ignites a curiosity about his colleague’s circumstances. Notwithstanding, that story will have to wait until another day and his willingness to tell me.

Still, I quickly fish my phone out of my pocket, open the notes app, and jot down a short reminder to ask about it at a later date.

“Anyway,” Jinyoung steps away from the door, hands me the cup with apple cinnamon tea, and gestures at the worn couch by the window overlooking the west side of the neighbourhood, “we’re here to talk about you. About the picture you sent.”

We move away from the counter to the sofa. A burst of hail spatters against the glass as we sit down.

I’m glad to have something to hold to conceal the shivers running through my body at the image of the claw mark mixed with the memory of what Y/N told me she felt. Or, rather, thought she felt although I’m certain she actually did feel the first ripples of transformation.

For a moment, we sit in silence as I mentally prepare myself for the conversation. Nipping on the tea with my shoulders curled over my chest, I try to reconstruct last night as best I can.

As much as my memory lets me.

To break the... something. There’s an idiom, no, a phrase? A saying.

I don’t know.

Not anymore.

To make it easier, likely noticing the struggle to say anything, Jinyoung speaks up. “There’s more than the photo. You’re leaving things out, things I need to know to help. What aren’t you telling me, Jaebeom?”

“Y/N-” I begin, my breath unsteady as I restart the sentence, “Y/N said she felt my skin move and if I try to remember last night, I can only recall fragments that give me a headache when I try to string them together. Which I can’t.”

He pales, frozen in place as the weird briny scent sours. “That shouldn’t-’’

“Shouldn’t happen,” I finish the remark.

A horrifying idea arises that sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end and has me nervously tapping my thumbs together as I try not to squeeze the cup in my paws. Nonetheless, voice a low woof bordering on a melancholic whine, I tell the doctor what’s on my mind. “I think the pills stopped working. Completely. I- I don’t think-’’

The world stops, shrinks, and strings my chest as tight as a string as I shrink within myself. Each thought evaporates as fast as the flashes in the wolf’s memory, incoherent if meant to be sensible at all.

The snow hasn’t even come.

I can’t leave her alone.

I don’t want to leave this life.

I don’t want to go just when being human again starts to get good.

I don’t want to be the old me again.

“I think so too,” Jinyoung agrees grimly. “If I increase the silver and nightshade or the doses it will kill you.”

He tilts his head to the side, eyes sharp with focus as he poses the question I’ve been wondering about myself. “Does she know what you are?”

I shake my head. I might be her weirdo wolf guy, but she’d never believe me if I told her what I really am. Besides, werewolves are the stuff of fiction these days.

We’re no longer seen as a real threat nor have the power and status we used to have in the days of yore. We are devoid of an identity acknowledged by humans.

But, if I don’t possess an identity, am I really here?

Alive?

Or dead like the wolf inside?

Paradise is calling, the song of the forest playing like a red thread through my broken memory.

Beckoning me home.

The woods are calling.

And I must not go.

Jinyoung’s new question pulls me out of my reverie, just in time before the train of thought would crash and burn. “Are you going to tell her?”

“No.” I take a sip of the sweet tea, to have a second of bliss and enjoy a new human pleasure.

Another happiness I discovered a little too late.

“Will you at least tell her about your meds?” Even though she’s seen me take them, Y/N doesn’t know what they’re for. But, then again, did she look at the label?

Regardless of whether she did or not, she’s perhaps not truly ignorant to the reason I have to take them. After all, she thinks they combat my amnesia, which is partially true. It’s a half-truth.

But the real reason is a secret I intend to keep.

“No,” I repeat, determined in my answer regardless of the world spinning out of control. “I won’t tell her.”

“She deserves that much, doesn’t she? She’s your girlfriend, Jay.’’ Although his features have softened, the doctor’s voice rises to a fierce bark as he reinforces his point. ‘’Your mate.”

“I can’t tell her,’’ I retort, my bark closer to a growl than a civilized answer. Tears brim on the edge of my lashes, obscuring my vision in spite of my attempts to blink them away. The vision of Y/N by herself in the snow, on her knees in the middle of the orchard, blocks my throat and makes breathing harder than it already was.

The vision changes to the image of a spring day close to summer, warm enough for her to wear the dress with the lemons. She’s seated in the same position between the trees which are now white and pink with blossom. However, whereas her belly was flat before, it’s now swollen, pregnant with pups.

My pups?

No, I have to stay here.

I have to survive the winter.

I have to be here if I ever change my mind and want to start a pack with her.

I must be here.

But the question is whether I actually can.

At this rate, I’m not sure.

I don’t know.

But I know enough to explain why I’m reluctant to tell my pretty lady anything. ‘’I can’t tell her, because the news will hurt her and I don’t want that. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Plus, what am I supposed to say? I’m a wolf that turned into a man and is slowly dying, going back to his old form in which it... he. Am human. In which he’ll be stuck until it- He! Am human! Until he dies?

“Y/N has to know about this, Jaebeom.’’ A hand on my shoulder makes me look up from the floor to the man next to me. ‘’How about I talk to her, tell her what you told me and discuss what our options are as well as a plan for the future?”

“You’re right.” I let out a mirthless griggle. “Fuck, I hate it when you are. But… But how will you… explain, uhm, explain… this- me! How will you explain me? What I am? For all she cares, werewolves are my- myth- fic-’’ I throw my head back, frustrated I can’t find the right word or properly speak.

Jinyoung gives me an encouraging squeeze, kindheartedly chuckling at my failure. “I know what you mean. Nobody comes into our world willingly or at least without a good reason. I think your... situation is enough of the latter for her to get involved too. She doesn’t have to join the branch, I’ll leave that up to her. But, if Y/N decides to believe me, or us for that matter, she’ll at least have a community to rely on when you, you know, you’re...”

“When I’m gone.’’ The hesitance to state the facts makes me grimace and my tone sharper than intended. ‘’We both know where this is heading so just say it.”

“Fine,’’ the doctor puts his hands up as if he’s at the risk of being shot ‘’when you’re gone.”

“What’ll happen to the shop?” I gesture around the paper paradise, changing the topic slightly. Books have been another treasure of humanity I will forever be grateful for, especially since I hopefully have created a legacy with them that’s worth keeping.

The doctor glances around, a somber expression on his face. “Either the university will keep it and maintain it as a potential workplace in the reintegration program or sell it off. I don’t know, real estate doesn’t fall within my jurisdiction.”

“Ah, I see.” I lower my head, gaze averted to the half-empty cup in my paws.

Funny how I once thought of making this a family business or to have at least my pup’s name on the spine of one of these books. If I ever had them, would they like to be a writer? Would Y/N tell them their absent father, I... I love... loved to read?

I force myself to forget the thought, swallow despite having a dry mouth, and shake my head. “Thank you. For wanting to tell her. She’ll come over tonight, so-’’

He holds up his hand to stop me. “I’ll text her so we can meet at a later date. She just returned from a business trip and had quite the evening with you. You two deserve a bit of rest.”

“But what if...”

It’s unlikely, but what if it happens again? What if I spin out of control tonight?

“Keep your temper in check and try to suppress your instinct,” Jinyoung answers matter-of-factly.

So, no sex.

Although the unspoken implication doesn’t come as a surprise, I can’t help but feel disappointed even though Y/N and I agreed on not doing it again so soon. Notwithstanding, it would be a lie to say I didn’t want to do it again this morning. But then there was the pool of blood and the amnesia that ruined our morning bliss.

All the same, flashes of what I do remember from last night replay in my mind.

They say once you’ve had a wolf, you never go back. Maybe because I won’t let you.

She looked beautiful, tears glistening in her eyes, equally as beautiful as her meek whimpers. She’s so small and fragile, easy to overpower.

To conquer.

“Your mind’s…. gutter again, isn’t it?” A groan sounds from somewhere on the side, distant like a faint echo

I was inside her.

In spite of the weird plastic, she felt nice.

Warm.

Wet.

I replay the image of her whimpering on the sheets as I looked down at her over and over. My hand on her cheek and Y/N keeping it in place. I should have used that second to dive down and worship her soft breasts more.

I could have bitten her there. Just a small bite on the side.

The snapping of a pair of fingers before my eyes interrupts the pleasant reverie. A bit offended, I snap around to growl at whoever took the pleasure of a cherished memory away.

Only to face Jinyoung, who sighs and looks down at the bulge in my pants before pursing his lips with an exasperated knowing expression as he looks up.

Scrambling to regain my composure and hardly remembering what he said, I answer as best I can. “No!”

“Then why are you drooling?”

#JB #Jaebeom #GOT7 #GOT7 smut #JB smut #GOT7 x Reader #Jaebeom x Reader #Jaebeom fanfiction #Jaebeom smut #GOT7 Werewolf AU #Werewolf AU #Werewolf!Jaebeom #Werewolf!JB

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lovenona · 3 years

Note

I just haad to say thank you for the free serotonin that you have provided me with through the last artist sukuna post

it's just... ✨beautifull✨ we are slowly building up this au

BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE HIM GETTING MORE AND MORE FRUSTRATED WITH THE LACK OF ATTENTION WERE HE'S KIND OF POUTING

and then there need to be a project done in which you have the option to work in groups and NO MATTER WHAT this proud cherry haired idiot WILL work alone but geto won't he came to y/n and they really need to work in a group if they want to get this done so of course y/n is happily gonna agree to the offer of geto to work together they do be viben after all which ultimately leads to the fact that y/n is gonna give sukuna even less attention (it probably doesn't even get on his nerves that much that y/n works with geto its just the lack of attention and ultimately time spending with you that result from it)

ah i am sorry I was rambling again😂

anyways hope you have a nice day and don't stress yourself too much with answering always happy to see you post❤️

babe let me just say ur brain is massive and i thank u from the bottom of my heart – anyway here’s the original post for everyone about to embark on this godforsaken journey with art student sukuna and our new friend pretentious fuck geto suguru

if you thought you were pitiful at drawing, your sculptural skills are on another level of true and utter shit. you cannot, for the life of you, create things out of clay. you despise carving anything into wood. your pottery faithfully collapses on you whenever you try. you hate working with glass. you would have dropped the class, honest, if you didn’t desperately need it in order to fulfill your major requirements and graduate on time.

all in all, it’s an awful class created solely to tank your gpa – you don’t understand what you’re doing, you don’t understand what anything is supposed to look like, and you sure as fuck don’t understand how anyone else seems to have their shit together all the time. when you glance around the room, no one, not even the famous ryomen sukuna, has trouble making their materials turn into something recognizable.

(and, in true sukuna fashion, he loves to make sure you know how fucking untalented you are.)

so when anthropology-and-ceramics king geto suguru asks if you want to be partners for the next big art project, you agree without a second thought. you’ve been talking to him recently, small talk before class, and for all his pretentious faults, you think he’s delightfully hot as fuck with a smooth voice to match. he wears those crisp, expensive button-downs that he bought at overpriced local craft markets. he always smells like cedar and eucalyptus; he brings a different tote bag to every class, his favorite being one he got as a gift for subscribing to the new yorker. he shops organic only and throws around the words “fair trade” and “bourgeoisie” and “means of production” with the ease that sukuna throws around the words “fuck” and “shit.”

you think geto is fascinating. and maybe he talks down to you when explaining his anthropology knowledge, he absolutely does, but when he gazes at you with those warm eyes and offers to help you learn how to sculpt and raise your grades, you can’t help but agree with a pair of big pathetic doe eyes.

why wouldn’t you? you’re just here for a good time, after all.

so when you giggle as geto places his sinfully smooth, manicured hands over yours while teaching you how to use the pottery wheel, you don’t think much of it. you think he’s cute and warm. you’d be a fool to notice the dark annoyance radiating from the other corner of the room.

ryomen sukuna always works alone. but what he didn’t count on was that you wouldn’t be working alone with him.

it’s not that you’re working with geto, he swears. it’s that you’re not working with him. his ears feel strangely empty without your argumentative quips, without the way you tell him he’s infuriating and annoying every time he tells you something lewd just to fluster you. it’s strangely empty without you both arguing about the difference between great artists and sell-outs – were you here, in his corner of the room, maybe sukuna would have tried to tell you michelangelo was a loser just to see what you would say.

but you’re not with him. you’re listening to geto tell you about the time he went to study abroad in germany and how he took a trip to morocco where he tried some amazing food you’ve never heard of. he’s telling you about the time he helped make tampons in botswana after his senior year of high school and all of the other deliciously precocious things he has done for the sake of human rights and anti-capitalism.

(you’re killing the environment, you know, geto often admonishes you when you stumble into class with your cup of coffee. that cup is going to end up in a landfill. he always taks a sip from his hydroflask for emphasis. it’s sleek and black with an oxfam sticker on it.

and sure, you know that your cup is going to become trash. geto doesn’t have to be an annoying fuck and tell you when it’s only eleven in the morning and he drove a literal moped to campus. but still, with that silky man-bun, everything he does is okay.)

but understand that sukuna doesn’t hate geto. sukuna craves attention, and he absolutely cannot stand being ignored. he’ll pout without realizing it, pursing his lips and wondering what kind of circus act he needs to perform to win back your presence. should he get another tattoo? cuss out the professor? offer to fuck you senseless in the third-floor bathroom? he’s not sure – he’s never not been seen before. ryomen sukuna doesn’t know what it’s like to come in second.

so he intercepts you after class; in a manner that is both sukuna-and-not-sukuna, he’ll casually throw one of his heavy arms over your shoulders, subtly pulling you away from geto’s aura, wrapping you in his scent of earth and leather and sex appeal. “come on, puppy,” he says, sultry and annoying and condescending all wrapped in one, tapping his ring-clad fingers against your arm. “you’re supposed to help me write my paper, aren’t you?” it’s not a question, it’s a demand, one you know deep down that you would rather die than shy away from.

you might not like sukuna, you tell yourself, but there’s something about him, the way he talks and moves and exists in the world, that makes you unable to shy away. there’s something about him that always makes you want more without you quite knowing why.

(he kissed you, once. sometimes you wonder if you would like it to happen again.)

and you’re still nestled under sukuna’s arm, trapped in his orbit and following him to his favorite empty classrooms, when geto calls back to you, wondering if you’re still interested in going to the avant-garde poetry reading with him tomorrow night.

he’s going to present a poem he wrote on the terrors inflicted on south america by the united states, geto had explained earlier when his hands were on yours. it was going to be some real, hard-hitting poetry, none of that “rupi kaur bullshit.” he thought it might enlighten you to join him, perhaps in more ways than one.

you pretend you don’t notice the way sukuna’s arm tightens around your shoulders when you tell geto with a flirtatious smile that you can’t wait.

#welcome to my blog where we just thirst all day long #geto and sukuna fighting over me? it's more likely than u think #pretentious fuck geto is my favorite thing ever #sukuna #sukuna x reader #geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #adele writes #artist!jjk #letters to adele #geto.seguru #ryomen.sukuna

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trainwiz · 3 years

Note

Can I get an overview of the Underspace races again?

For sure my compatrionion.

So first we've got the Vauldwin. Elongated floating rubbery humanoids, they might look human but oh my friend they are not.

They've over fifty different sexes and their reproductive rituals are so utterly inanely complicated that it's lead to a culture that doesn't like to take risks and has a deep focus on family, nobility, and lineage. They think of themselves as artisans, diplomats, writers, and princes, not starchasers and traders. Theirs is a society of circumstance and tradition, and though superficially ruled by a senate, the real power lies in the Thirteen High Houses, old families descended from their last real king. The Vauldwin like to think of themselves as the most civilized of races, having invented swords, sunglasses, and chairs. Look deeper into their history though, and you'll find a race that, despite their claims of abhorring risking their own lives, have a very violent penchant for taking the lives of others.

Across the galaxy are the Ijuni. I'll sum it up for you: Scottish capitalist space lobsters.

The Ijuni are... strange. They possess a form of opt-in racewide telepathy that has no filter, acting more as a public forum and announcement system where everyone in the network can hear everyone else. In a culture where everyone is struggling to get their voices heard, they've become a weirdly unified and spiritual but highly individualistic race whose lives revolve around the practice of "Hiano", literally meaning "to covet". Ijuni are raised communally (families are fraternal) and instead spend their lives achieving some sort of materialistic goal, with no real qualms about doing anything to achieve that. They're mercenaries, traders, and soldiers of the galaxy, and the greatest and riches of them never stop growing, eventually becoming city-sized monsters that live deep beneath the oceans of their homeworld. These are the Largeboys, the great oligarchs that rule and direct Ijuni society.

Head deep in the icy nebula known as the Marren and you'll find the Macrovari. They're not robots, in truth they're a race of hyper intelligent, hyper individualistic single-celled organisms who use robotic suits to interact with the larger world.

Incredibly and naturally skilled at just about anything they put their minds too, the same magic that gives them their intelligence also makes them fly into a homicidal rage when in close proximity to one another. Even distantly, they're cold and hateful towards each other, and Macrovari are utterly incapable of working together (two Macrovari are called an argument, four Macrovari are called a war). Macrovari tend to leave their home systems as soon as they can, while the remaining Macrovari struggle to keep themselves from fighting each other, as well as trying to direct their race towards common interests (which despite their protests, they DO have). Most of the time, they're off serving as the craftsmen and weaponsmiths of the galaxy.

A key factor with the Macrovari is that, provided they don't die, they'll eventually undergo mitosis, splitting off into two new Macrovari that inherit their talents, but not their memories. Squabbles over inheritance happen often in Macrovari space.

And on the last corner of the galaxy are the Ballden. Goofy and highly religious, they are a race of hiveminds. That is to say, each Ballden individual is made up of thousands of beings that contribute to their greater whole.

Each Ballden hivemind initially swells to a population of thousands, before they're loaded into cryogenic caskets to prevent their uncontrollable individuals from further expanding and draining resources. They're skilled at working en masse, and as such Ballden are master shipbuilders, terraformers, and architects.

As mentioned, the Ballden are deeply religious, and their faith revolves around the glorification and reverence of beings known as Denmenvani, a race of sentient suns whom they claim created them. Of course, they're absolutely right about this, and the Denmenvani have both a political and social media presence in the galaxy, and the star that their homeworlds orbit is in fact, the chief architect of their existence. She also runs an advice column.

These four races make up what we call the Union, a vast interstellar military alliance that serves to keep civilization surviving and thriving. They build highways, jumpgates, and most importantly, commission Starchasers to fight back against storms.

Outside of the Union there are a few races though.

Deep within the hellish, permanently enstormed nebula known as the Veil are the Veilers. They're an organic race, but their hellish home has lead them to live their entire lives in nine foot tall, pollution spewing hellish mechanical suits.

Living in what is basically space hell for so long left their society a militarized mess. Everyone serves, everything serves, and everyone survives. Culture, art, and diplomacy are stagnant, consumed by their vast military machine.

But don't assume they're evil. Their situation was one of survival, and upon learning that the Veil was not infinite and that they were not alone in the galaxy, the Veilers became desperate for alliances, friendships, romance. Their vast resources let them construct a tollway through the previously impassable Veil, which has made them very rich, and contact with other races has led them to realize there's more to life than surviving, as they're discovering things like music, love, and cheese.

Of unrelated note is that Veiler females outnumber their males 10-1. And they all have cute British accents.

Contrasting the Veilers are the majestic, graceful, and utterly foul-mouthed crystalline aliens known as the Ast.

Initially the Union mistook them for a race of rogue robots, and firebombed their planet. The Ast were not happy about this. But the Ast are never happy, or sad. In fact, the only emotion the Ast can feel is endless righteous fury. Their race is a highly philosophical one, with an emphasis on choice and freedom. Swear-laden, screaming freedom. Majestic cities, grandiose oceans, and beautiful ships contrast the fact that their national anthem contains the word "motherfucker" fifty one times in the first stanza alone. They don't sleep, eat, reproduce (Ast form naturally in remote glacial beaches on their homeworld), and the only thing they can do is drink copious amounts of alcohol. Despite this, many claim that while Ast might be angry, they are not violent, and often stick up for and use their resources to defend the downtrodden and hopeless.

Finally, the race we don't have a model for are the Us (rhymes with Foos, like foosball table).

A race of sentient fungi, they require corpses to move, exist, and reproduce. They tend to make their lives as the morticians and scavengers of the galaxy, collecting the dead of other races and preserving them. Though pacifist and amiable by nature, other races regard them with suspicion, a fact that hasn't prevented them from establishing the Deadstation, neutral meeting areas that also serve as galactic necropolises and trade centers.

#Underspace #game development #LORE #video games

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whatgaviiformes · 3 years

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Interview with Fic Writer Meme

Thanks for the tag, @burningcowboyhoagietaco! Splitting off just because the post was getting a bit long.

1. Your favorite fic that you’ve written (or the one you want to give a shout out to)

Favorite is difficult because it’s like choosing children. I have ones that hold a special place, and other I love for completely different reasons, so for a fic I want to give a shout out to? Let’s do Oak & Ivory today - Privateers AU with some FishTank, Scott playing the cello, and John cooking. Also it’s Virgil’s birthday and he doesn’t remember

Oak and Ivory FF | Ao3 Summary: [Completed] It’s a Thursday in the summer of 1776, and the USS Thunderbird is docked in port in New England. For Virgil, it brings him the gift of inspiration, starting with a rare morning off and a warbler…

2. Your favorite fic title that you’ve come up with I’m quite fond of Firefly’s Glow (FF | Ao3) as far as titles go. It started with a scene of Scott and Gordon catching fireflies in chapter 1, and as I wrote it I started to weave in the major theme that I am continuing to explore in the story (or at least trying) - basically the same thing said two ways 1) there’s a value to all life no matter how small and 2) even the small can shine bright. Gordon may be pocket!sized in the fic, but he is still has the same brightness about him.

3. How do you get inspiration to write?

I don’t. I can’t force it, and writing needs to be an outlet of creative expression for me or I will burn out. I am pulled in many different directions at the moment, and so writing is actually a struggle. I am still doing my best because then if I feel if I am not posting, I’ll become irrelevant. It’s a constant struggle and I know that latter part is me making it up in my head. At the end of the day, it needs to be fun and not a job. Perfectionist Gavii is still trying to learn this.

When I do have inspiration, music helps me to build the tone and craft the visuals. The words start to come easier with the right background sounds. Lack of distraction helps, and that is also currently hard to come by in my world.

4. Your favorite genre/subgenre of fic to write

Angst. Make ‘em cry.

5. Do you have other hobbies? Crochet, Gaming. D&D.

6. A fun fact about you that a lot of people may not know I don’t eat any seafood because I don’t like the texture or taste. I’ve tried different things a few times as an adult to see if my tastes have changed, but nah. FIsh are friends not food :)

7. Pick one character to self project onto Hmm. It’s probably Virgil if I had to really thing about it, but there are aspects of the Tracys in general that I tend to gravitate towards. Scott, I can identify with his dedication to work and family, his being spread to thin between his many hats, and juggling IR, family, and TI. Anything space-related makes me happy, so John’s solitary joy speaks to me. I am an introvert so I find it incredibly romantic to think of him reading and studying among the stars, and he’s probably the brother that I am most like in my natural state. Alone does not mean lonely. And in comparison, Gordon is everything I think I need in a friend - someone who lives life to its absolute fullest, sees a light in everything, always there for a smile. And it’s why I love to write (and read) when Gordon is thrown at John for all the chaos and underlying support love there is there. Alan is a bit more difficult for me since he is the youngest and I’m definitely past where I would self-project on to him - but I can identify with his desire to be his own man amidst his brothers’ successes. And that age is hard. I feel for the kid.

So then Virgil - I can’t paint, I can’t really play music, but I gravitate towards the arts - always have in my studies. What I love about writing Virgil is that he helps me look at the world differently and makes me challenge my own perceptions. I intentionally take a moment to focus on what I hear and see when I write him, and it creates a different type of imagery that I think has become Virgil’s voice in my head. He feels, and I can sense his emotions the most organically when I write. He’s loyal, steadfast, and comforting. He’s my art heart, and often when I am writing it’s Virgil’s “support” that I can kind of feel helping me out. If that makes sense? So there’s my explanation for why I can’t choose. I pull from different brothers when I need to. This is absolutely the cheesiest, but they are like family to me and I’ll pull from who I need to based on how I am feeling.

FishTank still makes the world go round though. Those two. *heart eyes*

8. Favorite genre of music

I am going to steal this almost quote from @katblu42 who I will also tag, because it’s really the only answer: the genres I like are my favorite.

I listen to a lot of music. like A LOT. If going through likes, you’ll jump from Sinatra to Metallica to Beethoven’s 7th to swing to Linkin Park, and back. Musical whiplash aside, I have a lot of playlists for different things and would love to incorporate one day somehow for fic writing.

9. Your favorite singer/band

Band: I am really into Walk the Moon, fun fact - the first time I heard Shut Up and Dance was live before it was released

Singer: I like my crooners.

10. How have your experience in fandom been? This time? Amazing, I feel so lucky to be so supported in life and in creativity.

Tagging Kat, @godsliltippy, @womble1, and whoever may be interested :)

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carriagelamp · 3 years

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Weirdly enough, I often find myself reading less in the summer, since I have more time than I do during the rest of the year to do other things. Also artfight has been eating up more than a bit of my free time! But here’s a collection a graphic novels I sat around on the hammock reading, and some novels I finished up...

(Everyone go read All Systems Red, holy crow guys)

A Whale of the Wild

The “sequel” to A Wolf Called Wander, though it doesn’t actually connect to the previous novel except in the stylistic/thematic sense. A Whale of the Wild is very much a standalone novel. And a pretty decent one! Personally, I think I liked Wolf more, but this one was a pleasant, informative read, with just the right amount of crushing dread sprinkled in. It’s about a young orca called Vega who is learning to become a new wayfinder for her pod but who still has a lot to learn, especially in an ocean that is becoming increasingly hostile to orcas and the other sealife that live alongside humans. When a devastating earthquake hits, Vega and her little brother find themselves separated from their family, lost in a now horrifyingly unfamiliar environment, and fighting starvation as the salmon that sustain them become more and more unreliable. It’s a desperate fight for survival as they search for food and their missing family. This book is written for a middle grade level, and does a really good job of putting the current environmental crisis into an animal’s perspective while giving the readers something to hope for.

The Adventure Zone: The Crystal Kingdom

Every July I eagerly anticipate the next Adventure Zone graphic novel. This one is for their fourth arc, The Crystal Kingdom, in which Magnus, Taako, and Merle respond to a SOS from a floating laboratory that is gradually being consumed by crystals and which threatens the entire world should it fall into the ocean. Carey Pietsch’s art continues to be absolutely fantastic, so beautifully and hilariously expressive, and this one delivers some great Merle moments, lots of Carey Fangbattle, and, of course, Kravtiz. Kravitz, my beloved…

Anyway, I obviously always recommend these. If you’ve never gotten into The Adventure Zone, I totally recommend either trying these graphic novels — or even better, just go listen to the podcast because it really is both hilarious and creates a shockingly good and heart-wrenching story by the end.

All Systems Red

I’ve seen The Murderbot Diaries on my dash occasionally, and it always looked interesting, but a friend’s recommendation finally compelled me to read the first novella of the series. And holy shit y’all. Absolutely the best book I’ve read this month, it’s amazing. Mind-blowingly good. Also, if you’re like me and want a good audiobook, it’s a nice three-hour listen, very chill!

Anyway, All Systems Red is about a Security Unit, an artificially created being that’s part-organic part-mechanical and all-company-owned-and-controlled. However, self-named “Murderbot” has managed to hack into the system that suppresses its own will, and is now coasting along, doing the least amount of work its job requires not to be noticed, while preferring to spend all its time watching the hours and hours of soap operas it has downloaded into its brain. And it’s a tolerable if somewhat dull life, until the science team that it's currently rented to is attacked and the whole mission goes pear-shaped. Suddenly Murderbot has to scramble to keep its humans alive… while its humans scramble with the realization that their “SecUnit” isn’t actually a mindless robot like they had all believed...

This story is both gripping and hilariously funny. Murderbot has such a unique voice and perspective and it’s an absolute pleasure to follow its story. I reallly need to read the next book...

Asterix and the Banquet

A classic. I was startled when I realized I hadn’t actually read this Asterix story… but hell I’m not gonna complain, it lets me read one of the originals for the first time again! In this Asterix volume, the Indomitable Gauls and the Romans end up arranging a bet — the Romans intend to keep them under siege, trapped in their village, while Asterix is confident that he can easily evade them… and will prove it by going on a tour around all of Gaul, collecting iconic foods from each region in order to return and put on a fine banquet. So we get a fantastic adventure in which Asterix and Obelix run all over the country, pursued the whole way, while making cheerful stops at the various eateries along the way. Also the first book Dogmatix shows up in! All around, a wonderful read, fun like all the best Asterix comics are.

Beauty Pop v4

A less impressive graphic novel. The first Beauty Pop is one of my guilty pleasure manga because… it really is pretty stupid but in the best possible ways. I mean, the whole thing is framed around hairstyling battles, like a shojo sports manga without the sports. It’s bonkers. Unfortunately, the series does not really manage to hold up, and it really begins to feel repetitive and dragging as it continues… as a lot of series like this do. *shrug* Unsurprising but still kinda disappointing I suppose. The building three-way romantic tension is mildly interesting if for no other reason than the main character Does Not Notice and Does Not Care about any of it, which is amusing and refreshing.

FRNCK v5

Now this series only gets better and better as it goes. This is the first book of the second arc, and somehow the danger just seems to be ramping up and up and up. The cavefamily have lost their home… as well as Léonard and Gargouille. Heartbroken, shocked, and angry, Franck is the one who ends up shouldering the blame for their presumed deaths as the others mourn. Things only get worse when Franck finds himself separated from the family, and in the territory of another tribe, this one hostile and cannibalistic...

Haikyuu v5

I continue to read this series because it continues to be charming… though it is beginning to feel, maybe, just a little repetitive. Kind of an inevitability with sports manga. But so far it continues to be good enough to overcome that. I’m not sure what I can say about this series that I haven’t already, so I’ll simply say it continues to be one of the most impressive sports manga I’ve read, and the author does a fantastic job of creating engaging characters, fleshed out teams, and really compelling relationships. I do genuinely adore all the main members of Crows, along with a number of characters from the rival teams as well. And of course it has some kickass volleyball scenes that are just drawn so dramatically they can’t help but take your breath away a little.

M*A*S*H Goes To Maine

Meh. The original book of the series was actually quite good in my opinion. This one… considerably less so. The first part I enjoyed more, since it was about Hawkeye, Trapper, Duke, and Oliver Jones trying to set up the FinestKind Clinic and Fishmarket in Crabapple Cove (which… is just the best premise I could have ever asked for). However, the book spends most of its time describing the quirky lives and times of other people living in the area and I… just… don’t care. It was funny at times but… I just don’t care. I wanted to hear more about the main cast. Also I found this book felt more racist and misogynistic than the first which also put me off :/ Wouldn’t bother if I were you. Go read the first book instead, or better yet just watch the TV show which is an obvious banger.

My Heart’s in the Highlands

I have had this on my “currently reading” list for so long but I’m officially giving up. It’s a really good book in theory but my god I can’t get over the pacing.

It’s about Lady Jane, a woman studying medicine in Edinburgh in 1888, and who suddenly finds herself back in the Highlands in the 13th century. Lost and confused, Jane is now at the mercy Clan Donald’s hospitality while she tries to adjust to this new world and hunts for her broken time machine. Fortunately, this hospitality include a burgeoning friendship with a red-haired warrior woman, Ainslie nic Dòmhnaill, who opens Jane’s eyes to the way the world could be.

Listen. It drives me nuts. This book should be completely up my alley, it has everything I like — IT HAS ALL OF ITS HISTORICAL FOOTNOTES CITED AT THE BACK, LITTLE EXTRA DETAILS ABOUT EVERY CHAPTER. THAT’S MY SHIT RIGHT THERE. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LIKE BEING ABLE TO GO OVER HISTORICAL DETAILS?? AND WELL RESEARCHED FOOTNOTES?? And yet it doesn’t. Fucking. Work for me. It has a kickass Scottish warrior lady as a love interest! It has a badass lady doctor! It has fish-out-of-water culture shock! But it also has a completely meandering plot, no sense of building tension, and a romance that just happens out of nowhere and feels completely unearned and uninteresting.

I would genuinely just rather read Outlander again, which I know has its own host of problems, but at least Outlander felt exciting and interesting and tense and funny. The romance built in fits and starts, it was complicated, and kept me interested. That book had me hooked (and has me hooked every time I reread it) whereas this book I’ve been sadly picking at for months like its a plate of overcooked spinach. This felt like an attempt at a queer, historically accurate knockoff which I would normally be super into but which just could not stick the landing.

Moomin on the Riviera

My first time actually reading anything from the Moomin canon. I have zero idea how to feel about it! It certainly is as feral as I’ve heard described! Overall, I think I enjoyed it but it sure made me feel strange emotions I didn’t know existed. I’m not even going to try to describe it. Read it if you want a batshit insane anti-capitalist comic.

Surviving the City

This was good in some areas, less good in others. It had a very interesting indigenous perspective on life in the modern city, the foster system, and The Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women issue, which I’ve never seen handled in a book before. Something about the pacing did not completely click with me and I found myself getting easily distracted, but it’s definitely worth the read just to experience it and look at the issues it deals with through the characters’ (and author’s) eyes. It did give me a lot to think about and wrestle with, which is sometimes the best thing a book can give you.

Torchwood: Pack Animals

A really fun read, more so than I had ever expected! If you like Torchwood and want more stories about the team before everything goes to shit, this is perfect for that. It includes the entire cast, an interest mystery to be unravelled, lots of slavering monsters, Rhys being really wonderful and sweet (which I didn’t know I wanted until I read this book), and all the humour I expect from Torchwood. I had to send a lot of quotes to my long-suffering girlfriend who a) does not watch this show but b) needs to tolerate it because I find it too funny to keep to myself. It was good enough to make me go out another book of the series since this was the only one my library carried.

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cianishere · 3 years

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why richard robbins is a king among men, or an analysis of the maurice (1987) soundtrack

hello, i am gay, a former band kid, and a slut for classical music analysis…… so i’ve been wanting to do an in-depth analysis of Richard Robbins’ absolutely breathtaking soundtrack for Maurice (1987) for some time. it’s an incredibly emotionally moving work of art, but i also feel like there’s so much care and thought and soul put into the pieces of the soundtrack, and Robbins absolutely deserves all the credit in the world for writing the perfect accompaniment to the film. the songs have lives of their own, outside of the film, but they also breathe a certain life into the scenes when paired with the performances of the actors and the cinematography and camera work. the soundtrack means so much to me, so i wanted to take a moment (or a few thousand words or so) to expand on all of its intricacies. i’m not a professional musician or a music student, i’ve j been playing woodwinds for over a decade and can find my way around a guitar and piano, so these are my thoughts and interpretations as a musician. feel free to share yours! this was a bit of an undertaking, so i recommend reading while listening, and i hope u enjoy!

(the pieces are listed in order of their appearance in the film, not the album)

PROLOGUE - THE LESSON

The opening piece is a very traditional overture, setting the mood for the film and foreshadowing the (musical) events to come. It begins with a mysterious, almost eerie sound with pizzicato in the low strings and high woodwind and harp lines before opening into the dominating melody in the high strings. Though the melody is grand and moving, it also has an air of hesitancy, almost melancholy, and in this moment, we’re introduced to Maurice’s musical signature, the clarinet (specifically, the low clarinet line). The low clarinet triplets and the sets of five recurring notes in the low flute and violin create a sense of impatience and forward motion, as we can sense young Maurice’s uncertainty in his conversation with his headmaster. This section transitions into a solo in the English horn, which Robbins uses to represent the idyllic, pastoral English countryside. Here, it seems to signal both the natural surroundings that the scene takes place in, as well as the pastoral beauty of childlike innocence. This solo honestly gets me EVERY TIME, it’s so gorgeous and the gradual layering of other instruments underneath is mesmerizing. The piece ends with shrieking upward woodwind scales, capturing the sense of impending fear that we can sense in young Maurice.

AT THE PIANOLA

This piece is a bit strange to listen to outside of the film, as it plays in the scene as Clive and Maurice play Featherstonehaugh’s pianola in his Cambridge dorm room. The piece captures Clive and Maurice’s pianola playing, which echoes the thematic melody introduced in the opening composition, but the single piano line is quickly swept away by a traditional string orchestra before moving into a call-and-response between the high strings and high woodwinds. I always thought this piece was so beautiful in its development, growing from a simple piano melody into a fully orchestrated concerto. The melody, particularly in its piano form, always struck me as very French, reminiscent of the French Romantic pianists with some impressionist elements as well. The transition from piano melody into the full orchestra is welcome, but overwhelming—it evokes the excitement and intensity of falling in love, as the film reaches the precipice of Clive’s confession. The instrumentation is also fascinating here: as I mentioned previously, Maurice is musically represented by the clarinet and/or woodwind melodies, but Clive usually comes through as high strings. This piece is pushed forward by the strings, as the violin and viola take on the melody under the piano and are followed by the woodwinds. The woodwinds follow the strings in a call-and-response pattern, musically establishing Clive’s lead in their romance, with Maurice following along with his advances, especially at first.

MISERERE (GREGORIO ALLEGRI)

UGH I have so much to say about this piece. I want to start with its origins, which is a setting of Psalm 51 to music, at first for the exclusive use in the Sistine Chapel during Holy Week (a nod to this scene taking place in the spring, around Easter). We all know this piece and the scene it accompanies, as those shots of Cambridge (and that wicker chair) are forever immortalized in my heart (<333) The lyrics are incredibly significant, as Psalm 51 is a confession of sin by David—specifically, of his feelings of lust for Bathsheba.

Have mercy upon me, O God: after Thy great goodness. According to the multitude of Thy mercies, do away mine offences. Wash me thoroughly from my wickedness: and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my faults: and my sin is ever before me. Against Thee only have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that Thou mightest be justified in Thy saying, and clear when Thou art judged.

David is asking for mercy for his act of sin, and to be “cleansed” from his lustful act by God.

Make me a clean heart, O God: and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from Thy presence: and take not Thy Holy Spirit from me. O give me the comfort of Thy help again: and stablish me with Thy free Spirit.

He prays for God to return to his life, and to give him salvation again.

I think this choice of psalm is SO fascinating, as it can take on two meanings. On one hand, it represents the feelings of guilt that both Maurice and Clive feel for their attraction to each other, knowing that their feelings are considered to be sinful in their (and the societal) understanding of Christianity. In a way, this piece can signify both Clive and Maurice asking for that salvation and asking to be saved from their desire. On the other hand, however, I think the choice to overlay this particular piece with Maurice and Clive’s first moment of physical intimacy is critical in interpreting its meaning. Rather than asking for salvation from God, the psalm’s lyrics could also represent Maurice and Clive asking for salvation from each other through their desire. There are a few points in the psalm that could be read in a rather different light in this context, particularly “Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord: and my mouth shall shew [show] Thy praise.” The “high spirit” that they are searching for, in this case, is not the forgiveness of sin by God, but rather the intimacy and physical affection of a lover. (As Forster points out in a later section of the book, one’s God and one’s lover can be equal “incentives to virtue.”) I feel like this psalm is being used in both ways: as a reminder of the internal and external pressure that Maurice and Clive face, but also to musically express the reciprocal desire they are seeking from each other as they begin to explore the physical side of their relationship. This piece is also just so damn beautiful, the high C just gets me every fucking time. The specific vocal arrangement—and the excerpt of that arrangement—that Robbins decided to use highlights a solo female soprano, sounding almost like a Greek siren. As her voice emerges from the varying vocal textures, there is a sense of seductiveness, but there is also a loneliness there, as she stands alone among the choir. The choice to center the soloist was a beautiful way to show the loneliness that Maurice and Clive feel as they both continue to hold that fear and hesitancy about their feelings and desire.

THE CAFE ROYAL

This piece plays during the infamous “to the ladies!” scene, during which the Halls and the Durhams are dining together, and Clive announces his decision to become a barrister and enter politics. This piece begins as a classic, grandiose waltz, representing the glamor and high society lifestyle that the two wealthy families live within. At the beginning especially, it seems almost overstated, hinting at the façade of British upper-class life that Maurice desperately despises. As the piece continues, a duet of low clarinet and oboe emerge with a woeful melody that is built upon on its repetition by a dark solo cello line. (I don’t play double reeds or cello but they’re two of my favorites, and all I can say is that Richard Robbins knew how to pick instruments that fuck, plain and simple.) The contrast in mood created between this grand waltz sound and the individual instruments emphasizes the trapped, isolated feeling that both Maurice and Clive feel as upper-class British men, expected to have careers, marry, and build families. Stuck in the middle of their constructed lives, Maurice and Clive are represented by the duet and solo lines, standing out among society and desperate for an escape.

IN GREECE / THE WEDDING

This piece opens with a haunting melody that sounds almost like a chorus—I’m still not entirely sure what the instrumentation of this section is, but it sounds like high woodwinds and strings layered together and/or an echoey, chime-like percussion instrument. The lone melodic line overlaid with harp runs (again, Robbins said I will exclusively highlight instruments that fuck hard, and ignore everything else) in the beginning brings the same sort of haunting loneliness as in “Miserere,” evoking the duality of the Greek siren as well as the hymnal church choir. Gradually, the piece builds into a waltz through the development of a pizzicato bass line as well as running woodwind and string harmonic lines. I think the use of a waltz in this section of the piece is a symbol of the bitter end of Maurice and Clive’s relationship, as the minor key and legato melody in the high woodwinds gives the waltz a mournful quality.

The opening section of the piece is quickly interrupted by the abrupt and angry sound of an organ. Rather than romantic, this interlude is loud and overwhelming, representing Clive’s overzealous transition into heterosexual marriage and family life. The interlude then transitions into a beautiful but incredibly sad melody, reminiscent of the music that might accompany a funeral service. This short but emotive section is probably one of my favorites in the entire soundtrack—as it plays, we can see Maurice exiting the wedding chapel after Clive and Anne, and that hidden pain and fear and loneliness is brought to life by this melody.

PENDERSLEIGH IN GLOOM

Simultaneously romantic and melancholy, this short piano interlude demonstrates the inspiration that Robbins took from classical French pianists. This composition reminds me of a transition section within a Debussy piece as the uneven tempo and dynamics exude emotion, conflict, and hesitation. In this moment in the narrative, between Clive’s marriage and Maurice’s meeting of Alec, Maurice is in a state of contemplation and uncertainty, and Robbins has reflected that perfectly.

MISS EDNA MAY’S SURPRISE / THE TRAIN

Though this piece is definitely not the most sonically appealing, I think it is the most texturally interesting on the soundtrack. The piano melody in “Miss Edna Mae’s Surprise” begins as a playful, jaunty, idyllic piece, but quickly builds drama and transitions into the surreal and eerie. The melody wavers between fun and nightmarish, never fully settling into one, but establishing tension through the contrast between the two. As the piece builds layers of woodwinds and strings, it continues this contrast between the expected, playful melody and something more sinister before suddenly merging into a screeching, forceful ending with high woodwinds and piano. Similar to “The Café Royal,” this piece represents the internal conflict that Maurice faces and his fear of settling down into the heterosexual family structure. While there is a sense of joy and happiness on the surface level, as Maurice acts the part to uphold societal norms, internally he is incredibly afraid of being trapped in a cycle of marriage and family that would be unfulfilling and dishonest to his selfhood.

The next section of this piece, “The Train,” is one of the most creative compositions I’ve heard in a long time, and I was honestly blown away when I listened to it closely (and LOUDLY). Rather than using train sound effects, Robbins uses the sounds of the orchestra to emulate the different sounds one might hear on a steam engine train. The rhythmic beat of the railway tracks underneath the train car are created by repetitive staccato notes in the strings and percussion. The airy, legato sound of the steam engine is actually created by single reed woodwind instruments played in a particular way. The woodwind players are blowing air into their instruments with a very loose embouchure, which is the muscle tension created by the lips around the mouthpiece that forces the wooden reed to vibrate and create sound. By loosening their embouchure, the players are blowing air into their instruments without the reed vibrating, resulting in a sound resembling air or stream escaping from engine pipes (can u tell im a clarinet player :-)). The melody of this piece emerges in the high woodwinds, including upper clarinets, flutes, and oboe. The melody line is eerie and tense, much like the mood of the train scene in the film, and the blended lines are erratic and dissonant. They seem to echo and fade in strange ways, mimicking the sound of an approaching or departing train whistle. Robbins is able to capture the sounds of a steam engine locomotive while also establishing the tension and conflict in Maurice’s character in this scene. As a woodwind player, I am in complete awe at Robbins’ creativity in building this composition, and I honestly think his ability to layer these sounds to create such a complex, textured sonic landscape is nothing short of genius.

THE MOONLIT NIGHT (a tiny bit nsfw, feel free to skip!)

Maurice’s nightmare of the “sinking ship” of heterosexuality is brought to life through an eerie, isolated English horn solo over tense string chords, eventually transitioning into a low clarinet melody, Maurice’s musical signature. Slowly, as Maurice’s nightmare fades away and he wakes up from his sleep, the low clarinet melody diminishes and is overtaken by low, warm chords in the lower woodwinds (bass clarinet, my beloved <3). These low sounds are interrupted by hesitant but curious flute runs, through which Robbins introduces Alec’s musical manifestation. The flute sounds grow faster in tempo and more intense in sound as Alec watches Maurice from outside his room but reduce to a single line of low strings, woodwinds, and percussion as he climbs through Maurice’s window. This ominous and minimal sound is gradually layered with sudden high strings, led by Maurice’s low clarinet, before fading away into near silence until the first touch suddenly takes the piece into swift motion. It develops into a beautiful and intricate waltz as Maurice and Alec embrace, representing their intimacy through the style of a partnered ballroom dance. The melody of the waltz, layered over staccato strings, is an ascending, fluttering scale that begins in the clarinet before finishing in the flute. Robbins’ choice to compose the melody as a shared scale between Maurice and Alec’s respective instrumental representation is a perfect way to express their first night together, and the airy, light, understated flute is a brilliant way to embody the spirit of Alec’s character. In the final section of the piece, as the melody grows irregular and begins to fade away, the ascending lines and rhythmic pizzicato strings begin to mirror the gasping breaths and soft moans of intimacy, constructing a gorgeously imaginative musical landscape for this critical scene.

ALEC’S FAREWELL

This short but expressive piece captures Maurice’s transition from dejected acceptance of Alec’s departure to a tentative hope as he realizes that Alec has missed his boat to Buenos Aires. Plucked bass and a fragmentary string melody overlay a tense, oscillating clarinet line, representing Maurice’s internal anticipation as he anxiously fidgets in the taxi ride back to Pendersleigh. At this point, Maurice does not have confirmation that Alec has purposefully missed his boat to reunite with him, but the suspense created by Robbins’ minimalistic composition leaves room for such a possibility, without completely revealing its certainty.

THE BOATHOUSE

This piece begins as Maurice makes his way towards the boathouse on the evening of Alec’s expected departure. He has just spoken to Clive, confessing his love for Alec, and now hopes to be reunited with his lover in the boathouse, the safe haven that Alec had promised Maurice after their first night together. Continuing where “Alec’s Farewell” left off with an oscillating clarinet line and minimal strings, the piece quickly erupts into motion as a solo clarinet begins a low triplet melody, accompanied by strings and a solo oboe harmony (the clarinet line is fucking FIRE and I would pay so much goddamn money for the sheet music). The clarinet solo moves swiftly, desperately, shifting between major and minor keys to represent Maurice’s restless search for Alec. As he enters the boathouse, the clarinet ascends a scale before lingering on a high A, as if he is calling for Alec. When the call is not answered, the clarinet line repeats, bringing Maurice’s anticipation to its height until he opens a second door and finds Alec resting within the room behind it. As the two meet and share a moment of reconciliation (“So, you got the wire, then?”), a lingering bass note (another one of Alec’s musical representations) swells into serene, legato woodwind chords that echo until their final kiss, and Alec’s “Now we shan’t ever be parted, and that’s finished.”

While listening to this song more closely, I was completely struck by its similarities to Leonard Bernstein’s “Somewhere” from the 1957 musical West Side Story. The final chords in “The Boathouse” are strikingly similar to the final high woodwind chords echoed by a low bass line in “Somewhere.” Bernstein also highlights clarinets throughout the musical, particularly to emphasize the vocals of the protagonist, Tony, while using flutes to underscore the voice of María, Tony’s love interest. Aside from the musical similarities, I think the thematic parallels between the story of Tony and María are worth mentioning as a source of musical inspiration for Robbins. A retelling of Romeo and Juliet set in 1950s New York, Bernstein’s West Side Story is a classic tragedy of an unconventional relationship that is unaccepted by society. Although not sharing in its tragic ending, Maurice definitely builds on the cultural trope of two star-crossed lovers desperate for an escape from a prejudiced society. Bernstein himself was gay, although he spent much of his career closeted, and West Side Story (particularly “Somewhere,” but also “One Hand, One Heart,” “Tonight,” and “Finale”) became emblematic of the struggles that gay couples face, especially with the popularity of musical theatre among American gay men. The lyrics (copied below, but I highly recommend finding the 1957 ballet version or the 1961 film version!) represent Maurice and Alec’s story beautifully, and the fact that Robbins was inspired by this piece of media that holds so much significance for queer people when composing the soundtrack for Maurice makes my gay little heart grow three sizes <3

There's a place for us, Somewhere a place for us. Peace and quiet and open air Wait for us, somewhere.

There's a time for us, Some day a time for us, Time together with time spare, Time to learn, time to care. Some day, Somewhere, We'll find a new way of living, We'll find a way of forgiving. Somewhere, Somewhere . . . There's a place for us, A time and place for us. Hold my hand and we're halfway there. Hold my hand and I'll take you there Somehow, Some day, Somewhere!

CLIVE AND ANNE

For Clive’s final scene, Robbins returns to piano and string instrumentation in the melody, representing a return to the traditional life that Clive now finds himself living with Anne. This variation on Clive’s signature melody, however, is significantly slowed down, almost to the tempo of a funeral march or dirge. As he shuts each of the windows, eventually stopping for a brief moment to reminisce on his time with Maurice, the melody grows increasingly loud and desperate as the high woodwinds are layered in. The sudden and dramatic development of this piece sound like a futile cry out for help, as Clive remains trapped in a prison of his own creation. The composition ends without a concluding chord, tense and unresolved. It’s fascinating to me that we can hear Robbins’ simultaneous resentment and pity for Clive—though the piece is deeply sorrowful, Robbins does not leave Clive with a satisfying ending, choosing to keep him suspended in the societal purgatory that he chose for himself.

END TITLES

Are you crying yet? No? I don’t believe you. Robbins establishes the ending to the story by building the piece off of a gentle, pastoral variation of Maurice’s low clarinet melody. The legato chords and balance of high and low instrumentation recall Robbins’ musical sampling of “Somewhere” before the melody shifts into a call-and-answer duet between the clarinet (alongside an oboe) and flute. Much like the clarinet and flute duet in “The Moonlit Night,” the two lines blend together—but in this final composition, Robbins has written the two parts as complementary, yet distinctly different, rather than imitations of one another or two segments of a single line. The melody becomes a conversation between two harmonizing entities who are sharing in the creation of something wholly new. The duet tapers off into an English horn solo over a harp line, bringing back the idyllic English countryside that we first saw young Maurice exploring in “Prologue – The Lesson.” In this final piece, Robbins adds on to this solo with the clarinet and flute before the melody spreads throughout the full orchestra and builds to a grandiose and rousing finale. I think the English horn solo is the part that breaks me every time because of its introduction in the very beginning of the story— through this understated melody, Robbins is assuring us that Maurice did stay true to himself, and he did find his happiness, though it may not be what Ducie or anyone else wanted for him. Maurice and Alec in the clarinet and flute, alongside the English horn, managed to find harmony in each other and peace in a life built on a love they shared, and nothing more.

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welcome-to-the-cafe · 3 years

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SHANG-CHI AND THE LEGEND OF THE TEN RINGS (2021)

shang-chi and the legend of the ten rings is an american superhero film directed by destin daniel cretton, starring simu liu, awkwafina, meng'er zhang, fala chen, michelle yeoh, tony leung, and like...a ton of other large-named individuals...

jk this is not a review this is just a loose collection of comments on the movie, which i watched this weekend, in a theater.

actually no spoilers below.

disclaimers:

i have very limited context re: marvel and other superhero franchises

also even though i watched this movie a day ago, i remember basically nothing

comments:

ah yes, yet another evil organization manipulating the world from the shadows

shocked by how romantic that fight scene between xu wenwu and ying li was

i appreciate when a superhero movie has the hero hail from SF or LA or literally anywhere that isn't NYC; west coast represent

also appreciate all the kung-fu movie posters in shaun's place. i love when american movies do shoutouts to asian martial arts movies.

re: "shaun" - ah yes, bland-name anglicization

whenever i saw awkwafina on screen, i kept thinking "oh it's awkwafina" instead of "oh it's katy"

i feel like the character katy was made for this movie, like they wanted to put awkwafina in the movie so they just made up a character for her to play.

absolutely loved that oldboy-homage from-the-side baddie mowdown in the bus

i really love the whole "best friend throws aside everything to help out their friend" trope. i mean. it's kind of bad. but it's heartwarming whenever it happens. (e.g. in vol. 1 of ajin with kaito and kei nagai, in the lord of the rings with samwise gamgee and frodo baggins)

also i like that shang-chi and katy are actually just friends. they are just pals. nothing straight is happening over here.

i did like that scene with katy's family, where people are speaking in both english and chinese. i liked katy's grandma and the whole qingming festival grave gifts thing

i love xu xialing (shang-chi's sister), but... why do badass asian women almost always have bob cuts? i'm having flashbacks to rinko kikuchi as mako mori in pacific rim. brb, looking up "asian women in action movies with bob cuts" ...yes, note also: faye valentine in cowboy bebop, motoko kusanagi in ghost in the shell, and sun bak in sense8

i wish i had more context re: marvel bc i want to know who the asian portal guy is... (he shows up a few times)

that whole scaffolding fight scene - cover your eyes if you're afraid of heights, i guess - i don't think it was a good idea for them to leave the inside of the building for the scaffolding, but, well. it made for a good fight scene.

morris the dijiang/hundun was really cute! usually i associate chinese mythological creatures with words like "majestic," "beautiful," and "terrifying"...but wow! cute!

i'm kind of losing steam here i don't know what else to say

oh yeah, i almost cheered when i saw michelle yeoh on screen. sorry, i love her.

idk how chinese the clothing is. it seems really colorful. does it look like it's from a particular part of china? if someone has like, an article on that, i would be interested.

also i was surprised to not hear any cantonese despite this movie being partially set in macau.

oh i should probably talk about tony leung as wenwu. idk what to say. sensitive and powerful portrayal of a villain as just an old man consumed by grief.

i appreciate that bit where wenwu (who is really old) says to an old white-hared dude, "i've eaten more salt than you've eaten rice." i think that might have been lost in translation.

weird thought: ying li and wenwu have maybe a thousand-year age difference. mayfly-december romance.

if any analyses come out about like, what kung fu styles the martial arts are based on, i would be into that. send them my way. my only uneducated comment is that the fight styles of ta lo seem kind of airbendy. like the way the foot sweeps out in a circle. also the swirling leaves effects.

i'm also curious about xialing's style. with and without the rope dart. oh man, the rope dart...i feel like it was used in super unrealistic ways...but it looks really cool.

i really like how the rings are used in fight scenes. honestly they actually seem pretty...authentic? like there's something genuinely chinese kung-fu about them. like southern chinese maybe?

also liked the hook swords the ten rings mooks use. i don't think i've seen them very much (i think jet from avatar: the last airbender uses them?). they're not used in very cool ways though (the hook-ness of the swords is used a lot less than the sword-ness)

this isn't an asian film, but most of the cast is east asian. i wonder how china feels about this film. like how do chinese people feel about the casting etc.?

the water vfx were very impressive. fun fact: shang-chi had no less than 11 vfx companies involved in its production

also there are mid-credit and post-credit scenes that i thought were worth watching

i feel like this movie could have been better, but also i didn't expect better. i don't really know what to expect from superhero movies in general. i wasn't paying much attention to how good the movie actually was because i was just busy being dazzled by the visual effects and the fight scenes and so on.

bonus xu xialing because i couldn’t resist

and a few other asian action babes with bob cuts for comparison

hey, it’s a thing.

#joy watches #shang chi #media review #media commentary

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cristalconnors · 3 years

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TOP 20 SONGS OF 2020

20. “BELOW THE CLAVICLE”- EARTHEATER

“The meaning hasn’t come up yet. It’s still under the surface below the clavicle.”

It isn’t just Alexandra Drewchin’s ear splitting soprano when she hits that impossibly high B, practically shrieking out the “cle” syllable of clavicle, though that’s undoubtedly when I first knew that Eartheater’s avant folk was for me- it’s also the cinematic, lush strings, both bowed and plucked (is that acoustic guitar or harp? I genuinely can’t tell), deepening and complicating the sonic texture of Drewchin’s study of parsing through emotions you aren’t ready to make sense of yet.

19. “PUSSY TALK”- CITY GIRLS, FT. DOJA CAT

“This pussy so ghetto, this pussy speak ebonics”

“WAP”’s funnier, classless Irish twin, though it’s important to note “Pussy Talk” came first. Yung Miami and JT enlist Doja Cat to expound on everything their pussies deserve and will absolutely settle for nothing less than. And why should they when they’re spitting out verses this inspiredly hilarious with such confidence and flow?

18. “LICK IN HEAVEN”- JESSY LANZA

“Once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning...”

Jessy Lanza is talking about losing your cool, letting your emotions get the best of you and lashing out instead of letting cooler heads prevail, but when that earworm of a chorus hits- “once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning” - I can’t stop spinning. I’m that woman on the single art, a wine mom lost in the delirium of the dance floor and in Lanza’s hypnotic, fragmented rhythms.

17. “GASLIGHTER”- THE CHICKS

“Boy, you know exactly what you did on my boat!”

“Gaslighter” finds Natalie Ames and her Chicks at their most simultaneously ruthless and ebullient, ripping Ames’s ex-husband Adrian Pasdar a new asshole and ratcheting up the righteous anger of “Goodbye Earl” tenfold, channeling it into a glorious wall of sound in what might be their most rousing, emotionally resonant chorus in their storied career.

16. “HANNAH SUN”- LOMELDA

“Hannah do no harm...”

While “Hannah Sun” begins as an exquisitely observed rumination on grappling with long-distance, pining for someone who’s a continent away, it gradually becomes clear that Hannah Read blames herself for putting the distance between her and the subject of her longing, and that the distance isn’t strictly literal. Skittering synths (or is that distorted flute?) complicate and enrich the texture of the song, allowing it to build organically and stunningly towards a heartbreaking plea to herself- “Hannah, do no harm.”

15. “FIRE”- WAXAHATCHEE

“And when I turn back around will you drain me back out? Will you let me believe that I broke through?”

When I’d drive back and forth between Dallas and Austin over and over again when I was in college, I’d often get off I-35 past Waco and take the back roads through towns I’d never heard of, the sun setting spectacularly behind the titular hills of Hill Country that were beginning to roll out in earnest. I think about that a lot when listening to “Fire,” a song dripping in rural Americana that was, unsurprisingly, inspired by a road trip. We’ve probably all been Katie Crutchfield as she crossed the bridge into West Memphis- alone in the car, awed by the simple beauty of the American countryside, making speeches to ourselves about our past mistakes and figuring out a way forward.

14. “3AM”- HAIM

“On the screen and in my jeans, just make me feel good.”

On an album full of genre departures and decidedly darker themes than we’ve typically heard from Haim in their near decade of syncopated bubblegum pop rock, “3AM” stands out not only as their most effective stab at pastiche, slipping into the trappings of contemporary R&B with shocking ease and gusto, but also as their most unabashedly fun track in their entire oeuvre. “I think you can hear the amount of joy and laughs we had making this song” Alana Haim tells Apple Music, and you absolutely can.

13. “QADIR”- NICK HAKIM

“We’re sinking down a hole without thinking about our loved ones who might be shrinking...”

I often wonder if I’m putting enough effort into maintaining my relationships with friends I don’t see regularly, who live several time zones away, living their own lives while I live mine. When the thought of sustaining simple correspondence becomes overwhelming, it’s easy for months to go by before you realize you haven’t spoken to one of your closest friends. “QADIR” plays less like a eulogy for a friend gone too soon (though of course it is that) than a plea to the listener to put in the work. It’s worth it. You never know when it’ll be too late.

12. “LEVITATING”- DUA LIPA

“Glitter in the sky, glitter in our eyes shining just the way we are.”

Just a few bars of that delightfully bouncy, extra-terrestrial beat is enough to launch me into space. It’s so refreshing to hear a song that remembers that pop is supposed to be joyful and is best when it’s a bit silly. When discussing this track with Apple Music, Dua Lipa cites Austin Powers as inspiration, elaborating that “if I do a video for this, Mike Meyers has to be in it.” Can’t you just see them together, performing a farcical pas de deux of seduction like the spiritual successor to “Beautiful Stranger?”

11. “RIQUIQUI”- ARCA

“Love in the face of fear! Fear in the face of God!”

Arca’s made a career of harnessing chaos and somehow making sense of it. On an album that finds her embracing more traditional, accessible song structures, “Riquiqui” is a reminder that even when working within an AB structure, she’s still breaking rules left and right and having a blast doing it. She’s also never sounded so ferociously empowered in either her femininity or in her Venezuelan identity, rattling off local colloquialisms with affection and verve without a second thought as to who’s going to understand it.

10. “FANTASY”- AGAINST ALL LOGIC

“I think about you all the time...”

Or, the musical embodiment of this gif:

When Nicolas Jaar’s tormented synths and crunching beats give way to Beyoncé’s unmistakable alto, it is indeed quite the shock. But should it be? Even if 2017-2019 finds him ditching the dancefloor in favor of more severe, unforgiving soundscapes, his already varied career has shown us nothing’s off limits to him. So why not reinvent Beyoncé’s iconic “Baby Boy” into an industrial, vaguely sinister certified bop that arguably surpasses the original?

9. “PEOPLE, I’VE BEEN SAD”- CHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS

“If you disappear, then I’m disappearing, too.”

“People, I’ve been sad” plays out with the vulnerability and intimacy of a tumblr text post you put out in the middle of the night, only to hastily delete later when it gets no notes. It forgoes flowery language in favor of just getting to the point. “I’ve been sad.” Héloïse Adelaïde Letissier blows up this deceptively simple sentiment with richly layered textures and a big screen gloss not to offer any remedies but instead to offer solidarity. We’re all in this hell together.

8. “DESCRIBE”- PERFUME GENIUS

“Can you just find him for me?”

Mike Hadreas has never sounded so hopeless. Utilizing harsh, rattling guitar that would make Kevin Shields swoon, he conveys the experience of being so estranged from happiness and joy that you need to rely on others to describe the sensation to you. But how, when exploring darker textures than he ever has before, does he make despondency sound so divine?

7. “4 AMERICAN DOLLARS”- U.S. GIRLS

“No matter how much you get to have, you will still die and that’s the only thing.”

Meg Remy picks up where she left off on “4 American Dollars,” reviving the subversive pastiche she mastered on In a Poem Unlimited, this time harnessing the power of funk to dismantle the fallacies we’re taught about the virtues of capitalism. Heavy stuff, but Remy makes it less didactic than joyous, ensuring the listener will be singing “I don’t believe in pennies and nickels and dimes and dollars and pesos and pounds and rupees and yen and rubles” until they start to wonder if maybe they shouldn’t, either.

6. “STUPID LOVE”- LADY GAGA

“I freak out, I freak out, I freak out, I freak out!”

Due to a healthy spirit of contrarianism mixed with a touch of internalized homophobia and genuine bafflement at her universal appeal and praise, I was a proud Lady Gaga hater for as long as she’d been a cultural entity. I just didn’t get her at all and loved that about myself. Annoying, I know. 2020 was the year I was finally ready to let that all go. Just before the world fell apart in March, I was out at Flaming Saddles (RIP) with friends the night this song came out and by the sixteenth time it played, I understood why it was inducing such hysteria. This was a cultural shift. After a frustrating near-decade of Gaga subverting expectations so thoroughly that she was actively working against her strengths and sabotaging her cultural ubiquity in the process, coupled with the most frightening era of political upheaval in our lifetimes, she was finally ready to save us and be Lady Gaga again. Booming synth, drag sensibilities, absurd thematic conceits- all was right in the world. For the first time in a long time, people had something to be hopeful about, and as I danced that night, I felt that hope, too.

5. “SHELLFISH MADEMOISELLE”- RÓISÍN MURPHY

“How dare you sentence me to a lifetime without dancing?”

As soon as that bass starts (the funkiest bassline in the history of music?) it’s like Róisín Murphy’s snake charming oboe, coaxing even the most stalwart curmudgeon onto the dancefloor and keeping them there, dancing frantically and involuntarily like the citizens of Strasbourg in 1518, trying their best to keep up with Murphy who isn’t even breaking a sweat, commanding the masses with a sultry remove, beckoning you closer, pulling you inexorably deeper into the mass of gyrating bodies and whispering in your ear “come and have a dance with yer mum.”

4. “PARTY 4 U”- CHARLI XCX

“I only threw this party for you...”

As PC Music / Bubblegum Bass / whatever you want to call it enters its second decade, Charli XCX proves not only that there’s still new textures to explore within it, but also that no one can exploit its artifice to get down to emotional truths like she can. How can she make something this slick sound so vulnerable? “I only threw this party for you” she croons over and over again over glorious syncopated synths that build exquisitely, reaching their climax only to immediately fall away, until it’s just her and her trusty autotune, pleading with the subject of the song to just come to the damn party. But they won’t, of course. They never do, do they?

3. “WAP”- CARDI B, FT. MEGAN THEE STALLION

“I want you to touch that lil’ dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat!”

Sometimes you just immediately know you’re living through a significant cultural moment. No, not COVID. I’m talking about the experience of hearing Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s instant classic “WAP” for the first time, a titanic meeting of the minds that finds both of them at the apex of their cultural influence and at their most undeniable. Can the argument be made that these two aren’t the two best rappers in the game right now? How could you hear this inspiredly filthy sex positive juggernaut, where Cardi and Megan are trading the sickest verses of their careers, and not think these two deserve the world?

2. “KEROSENE!”- YVES TUMOR

“I can be your baby in real life, sugar. I can live in your dreams.”

If the 2010′s were all about the pop-ification of all music, trading in live instrumentation in favor of polished synths, 2020 forcefully announced the return of the electric guitar when Yves Tumor and Diana Gordon’s back and forth lustfully submissive declarations of desire suddenly gave way to that nasty guitar rip lifted from Uriah Heep’s “Weep in Silence” to announce yet another cultural shift in a year chock full of them- rock and roll was, indeed, here to stay.

1. “I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME”- FIONA APPLE

“I move with the trees in the breeze, I know that time is elastic.”

We live and we learn. Years spent soul searching and on self-discovery shape us into better, smarter people, progressively knowing and understanding ourselves and the world around us more and more clearly, but Fiona Apple knows that none of that can quell the ferocious desire to be loved by someone. By anyone. By you, whoever that is. We can know that time is elastic and that when we’re gone all our particles will disband and disperse and then we’ll be back in the pulse, and we can know that none of this stuff actually matters, but still- we want, we want, we want.

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snelbz · 4 years

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What Happens In Vegas... {9}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.

@snelbz / @tacmc collab

What Happens In Vegas Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

We spent the afternoon back down in the recording studio with Drakon, Azriel and Cassian. When Rhys wasn’t playing, he’d pull me onto his lap. When he was busy on guitar, I listened in awe of his talent. He didn’t sing, so I remained in the dark about the lyrics. But the music was beautiful in a raw, rock ’n’ roll sort of way. Cass seemed pleased with the new material, bopping his head along in time. Even Azriel was more vocal in general, speaking up with ideas, criticisms, and praises.

Drakon beamed behind the splendid board of buttons and dials. “Play that lick again, Rhys.” My husband nodded and his fingers moved over the fretboard, making magic.

Miryam had been busy while we’d been upstairs, starting on unpacking the collection of boxes. When she made a move to return to the job in the early evening I went with her. Unasked or not, it wasn’t fair that she got lumped with the task on her own. Plus, it pleased my inner need to organize. I snuck back downstairs now and then as the hours passed, stealing kisses, before heading back up to help Miryam again. Rhysand and co remained immersed in the music. They’d come up seeking food or drink but returned immediately to the studio.

“This is what it’s like when they’re recording. They lose track of time, get caught up in the music. The number of dinners Drakon has missed because he simply didn’t realize what time it was;” said Miryam, hands busy unpacking the latest box.

“It’s their job, but it’s also their first love,” she continued, dusting off an Asian-style bowl. “You know that one old girlfriend that’s always hanging around the fringes, drunk dialing them at all hours and asking them to come over?”

I laughed. “How do you deal with never getting to come first?”

She smiled as she looked over at me. “You have to strike a balance. Music’s a part of them that you have to accept, hon. Fighting it won’t work. Have you ever been really passionate about something?”

“Yes,” I breathed, answering honestly, eyeing up another stringed instrument I’d never seen the likes of. It had intricate carving encircling the sound hole. “I love to paint. Life is easier to understand when I have a paintbrush in my hand. But responsible adults don’t paint for a living. There’s no way I can guarantee that I’ll pay the bills selling my art.” I stopped, grimaced. “God, I sound like my father.”

“You can totally, absolutely paint for a living, if you so choose,” she said, like it was the absurd thing to say I couldn’t. “If it’s your passion, then you owe it to yourself to give it a shot. But sometimes, it takes time to build it up for a living. Honing your craft and keeping the dedication, until that’s a possibility, that’s being a responsible adult.”

I smiled, understanding what she meant. I wish my father could have seen it that way. Instead, he saw painting as a waste of time, money and effort. “What about you? What’s your passion?”

“I was a born and bred photographer.”

“That’s great.” I meant it, those who could see the world through a lens were amazing to me.

Miryam smiled, her gaze going distant. “That’s how Drakon and I met. I went on tour for a couple of days with the band he was in at the time. I ended up going right around Europe with them. We got married in Rome at the end of the tour and we’ve been together ever since.”

“That’s a wonderful story,” I replied.

“Yeah,” Miryam sighed. “It was a wonderful time.”

I asked, “Did you study photography in college?”

“No, my father taught me everything I know. He worked for National Geographic. He put a camera in my hand at age six and I refused to give it back. The next day he brought me an old second-hand one. I carried it everywhere I went. Everything I saw was through its viewfinder. Well, you know what I mean… The world made sense when I looked at it that way. Better than that, it made everything beautiful, special.” She pulled a couple of books out of a box, adding them to the shelves built into one wall. We’d already managed to half fill them with various books and mementoes.

“You know, Rhys has dated a lot of women over the years. But he’s different with you. I don’t know…” She paused and turned back to me. “The way he watches you, I think it’s adorable. It’s the first time he’s brought anyone here in six years.”

That surprised me. “Why was the place empty so long?”

Miryam’s smile faded and she avoided my eyes. “He wanted it to be his place to come home to, but then things changed. The band was just hitting it big. I guess things got complicated. He could explain it to you best.”

“Right,” I said, intrigued, but knowing it wasn’t a conversation I needed to have with her. I needed to have it with Rhys.

Miryam sat back on her haunches, looking around the room. “Listen to me rambling on. We’ve been at this all day. I think we deserve a break.”

With a relieved sigh, I fell back onto my ass and said, “I second that.”

Nearly half the boxes were open. The contents we couldn’t think of an immediate home for were lined up along one wall. A big plush black couch had been delivered. It fit the house and its owner perfectly. With various rugs, pictures and instruments strewn about, the place had almost begun to look like a home. I wondered if Rhysand would approve. Easily, I could picture us spending time here when I wasn’t in classes. Or maybe holidays would be spent touring. Our future was a beautiful, dazzling thing, filled with promise.

In the here and now, however, I still hadn’t caught up with Joey. A fact that caused me great guilt. Explaining this situation didn’t appeal and nor did confessing my fast-growing feelings for Rhys.

“Come on, let’s go grab some food from down the road. The bar does the best ribs you’ve ever tasted. Drakon goes crazy for them,” said Miryam.

“Let me run downstairs, I’ll let them know we’re going. Do I need to change?” I had on the black jeans and tank top, a pair of Converse. They were the only shoes I’d been able to find among Amarantha’s buys that didn’t feature four-inch-plus heels. Miryam wore jeans and a white shirt, with a heavy turquoise necklace around her throat. It was casual in theory, but Miryam was a striking woman.

“You’re dressed fine,” she said. “Don’t worry. It’s very relaxed.”

The sound of music still drifted up from downstairs. When I went down there, the door was shut and the red light was on. I could see Drakon with headphones on, busy at the console. I’d forgotten to charge my phone with all the recent excitement, but I didn’t have Rhys’s phone number so I couldn’t have texted him anyway. I didn’t want to interrupt. In the end, I left a note on the kitchen bench. We wouldn’t be gone long. Rhys probably wouldn’t even notice.

The bar was a traditional wooden wonderland with a big jukebox and three pool tables. Staff called out “hello”s to Miryam as we walked in. No one even blinked at me, which was a relief. The place was packed. It felt good to be back out among people, just part of the crowd. Miryam had phoned ahead but the order wasn’t ready yet. Apparently the kitchen was every bit as busy as the bar. We grabbed a couple of drinks and settled in to wait. It was a nice place, very relaxed. There was lots of laughter and country music blared from the jukebox. My fingers tapped along in time.

“Let’s dance,” said Miryam, grabbing my hand and tugging me out of my chair. She bopped and swayed as I followed her onto the crowded dance floor.

It felt good to let loose. Lady Antebellum turned into Kane Brown and I raised my arms, moving to the music. A guy came up behind me and grabbed my hips but he backed up a step when I shook my head with a smile. He grinned back at me and kept dancing, not moving away. A man spun Miryam and she whooped, letting him draw her into a loose hold. They seemed to know each other.

When the guy beside me moved a little closer I didn’t object. He kept his hands to himself and it was all friendly enough. I didn’t know the next song but it had a good beat and we kept right on moving. My skin grew damp with sweat, my hair clinging to my face.

Dude One moved away and another took his place, slipping an arm around my waist and trying to pull me in against him. I planted my hands on his chest and pushed back, giving him the same smile and head shake that had worked on the last. He might have been only about my height, despite the huge hat, but he was built solid. He had a big barrel of a chest and he stank of cigarette smoke

“No,” I said, still trying to push him off me. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, darlin’,” he yelled in my ear, knocking me in the forehead with the brim of his hat. Ow. “Dance with me.”

A little more forcefully, I said, “Let go.”

He grinned and both of his hands slapped down hard on my ass. The jerkoff started grinding himself against me.

“Hey!” I pushed against him, getting nowhere. “Get off me.”

“Darlin’.” The letch leaned in to kiss me, smacking me in the nose with the brim of his hat again. It hurt. Also, I hated him. If I could just wiggle my leg between his and knee the asswipe in the groin, I’d be able to even the playing field. Or leave him writhing on the floor crying for his mommy. An outcome I was fine with.

I shoved my foot between the two of his, getting closer to my objective. Closer…

“Let her go.” Rhys miraculously appeared out of the crowd beside us, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Oh, shit. He looked ready to kill.

“Wait your turn,” the cowboy yelled back, pushing his pelvis into me. God, it was disgusting. Puking could happen. It would be no less than he deserved.

Rhysand snarled. Then he grabbed the man’s hat and sent it flying off into the crowd. The man’s eyes went round as plates and his hands dropped away from me.

I skipped back a step, free at last. “Rhys—.”

He looked at me and in that moment, the cowboy swung. His fist clipped Rhys’s jaw. His head snapped back and he stumbled. The cowboy dove at him. They landed hard, sprawled across the dance floor. Fists flew. Feet kicked. I could barely see who did what. People formed a circle around them, watching. No one was doing anything to stop it. Blood spurted, spraying the floor. The pair rolled and pushed and Rhys came out on top. Then just as fast he fell aside. My pulse pounded behind my ears. The violence was startling. I hated it. The blood and the dirt, the mindless rage.

But I couldn’t just stand by, caught in a cold stupor. I wouldn’t.

A strong hand grabbed my arm, halting my forward momentum.

“No,” said Cass.

Then he and another couple of guys stepped in. Relief poured through me. Cass and Az wrestled Rhysand off the cowboy. Another pair restrained the bloody-faced fool who bellowed on and on about his hat. Goddamn idiot.

They hustled Rhys out of the bar, dragging him backward. Through the front doors and down the steps they went while his feet kicked out, trying to get back into it. And he kept right on fighting until they threw him up against Cassian’s big black truck.

“Knock it off!” Cass yelled in his face. “It’s over.”

Rhys slumped against the vehicle. Blood seeped from one nostril. His dark hair hung in his face. Even in the shadows he looked swollen, misshapen. Not half as bad as the other guy, but still.

“Are you okay?” I stepped closer to check the extent of his wounds.

“I’m fine,” he said, shoulders still heaving as he stared at the ground. “Let’s go.”

Moving in slow motion, he turned and opened the passenger side door, climbing in. With a mumbled goodbye, Miryam and Drakon headed for their own car. A couple of people stood on the steps leading into the bar, watching. One guy held a baseball bat as if he expected further trouble.

“Feyre. Get in the car.” Azriel opened the door to the back seat and ushered me in. “Come on. Cops could be coming. Or worse.”

Worse was the press. I knew that now. They’d be all over this in no time.

I got in the truck.

*******************

Cassian and Azriel disappeared as soon as we got home. Rhys stomped up the stairs to our bedroom. Was it really ours? I didn’t have a clue. But I followed. He turned and faced me as soon as I entered the room. His expression was fierce, dark brows down and his mouth a hard line. “You call that giving us a chance?”

Whoa.

I licked my lips, giving myself a moment. “I call it going out to pick up some food. The kitchen was running late so we got a beer. We liked the music so we decided to get up to dance for a couple of songs. Nothing more.”

“He was all over you,” he snapped.

I blinked, surprised by his sudden anger. “I was about to knee him in the balls.”

“You left without a fucking word!” he shouted.

“Don’t yell at me,” I said, searching for a calm I didn’t have in me just then. “I left you a note in the kitchen.”

He shoved his hands through his hair, visibly fighting for calm. “I didn’t see it. Why didn’t you come talk to me?”

“The red light was on. You were recording and I didn’t want to disturb you.” I could understand his frustration with the dude at the bar, but I didn’t know where this was coming from. “We weren’t supposed to be gone for long.”

Bruised face furious, he walked a few steps away then turned and marched back. No calmer from what I could tell despite the pacing. But at least he seemed to be trying. His temper was the third person in the room and it took up all the damn space. “I was worried. You didn’t even have your phone on you, I found it on the fucking table. Miryam’s phone kept going to voicemail.”

“I’m sorry you were worried.” I held out my hands, out of excuses for both of us. “I forgot to charge my phone. It never happens, but things have been a little crazy the past few days, you know that. I’ll try to be more careful from now on. But Rhys, nothing was going on. I’m allowed to leave the house.”

He ran a hand through his hair and said, “Fuck. I know that. I just…”

“You’re doing your thing, and that’s great—.”

“This was some sort of fucking punishment?” He forced the hard words out through gritted teeth. “Is that it?”

“No, of course not,” I sighed. Quietly.

“So you weren’t trying to get picked up?”

I blinked. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Slapping him upside the head wasn’t out of the question. I kept my clenched fists safely at my side, resisting the urge.

He asked, “Why’d you let him touch you?”

“I didn’t. I asked him to move back and he refused. That’s when you arrived.” I rubbed at my mouth with my fingers, fast running out of patience. “We’re just going around in circles here. Maybe we should talk about this later when you’ve had a chance to calm down.” Hands shaking, I turned toward the door.

“You’re leaving? Fucking perfect.” He threw himself back onto the bed. Laughter wholly lacking in humor came out of his mouth. “So much for us sticking together.”

I didn’t understand what was happening. “What? No. I don’t want to fight with you, Rhys. I’m going downstairs before we start saying shit we don’t mean. That’s all.”

“Go,” he said, his voice harsh. “I fucking knew you would.”

“Gods,” I growled, turning back to face him. The desire to scream and shout at him, to try to make some sense of this, boiled over inside of me. “Are you even listening to me? Are you hearing me at all? I’m not leaving you. Where is this coming from?”

He didn’t answer, just stared at me, eyes accusing. It made no sense.

I almost tripped getting back to him, my feet fumbling. Landing on my face would be perfect. It was exactly where this was heading. I didn’t even understand what we were fighting about anymore, if I ever had.

“Who are you comparing me to here?” I asked, every bit as angry as him now. “Because I am not her.”

He kept right on glaring at me.

“Well?” I asked.

His lips stayed shut and my frustration and fury skyrocketed. I wanted to grab him and shake him. Make him admit to something, anything. Make him tell me what the hell was really going on.

I crawled onto the bed, getting in his face. “Rhys, talk to me!”

Nothing.

Fine.

I pushed back with trembling legs and tried to crawl off the mattress. He grabbed at my arms, trying to hold on. And like fuck he was. I pushed back hard. All brawling limbs, we tumbled off the bed and rolled onto the floor. His back hit the hardwood floor. Immediately, he rolled us again, putting me on the bottom. My blood pounded behind my ears. I kicked and pushed and wrestled him with all the angst he’d inspired in me. Before he could get his bearings I rolled us again, regaining the uppermost position. He couldn’t stop me, the bastard. Escape was imminent.

But it didn’t happen.

Rhys grabbed my face in both hands and mashed his lips to mine, kissing me with everything he had. I opened my mouth and his tongue slipped in. The kiss was rough and wet. Breathing was an issue. It seemed we both had some anger management issues and neither of us entirely refrained from biting. With his bruised mouth, he definitely had the most to lose. It wasn’t long before the metallic taste of blood hit my tongue.

He pulled back with a hiss, fresh blood on his swollen top lip. “Fuck.”

He grabbed my hands. I didn’t make it easy on him, struggling for all I was worth. But he was stronger. He pinned them to the floor above my head with relative ease. The press of his hard-on between my legs felt exquisite, it drove me insane. And the more I bucked against him, the better it got. Adrenaline had already been pouring through me, amping me up. The need to have him sat just below the surface, prickling my skin, making me hyper aware of everything.

So this was angry sex. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt him, not really. But there were other ways to assert myself in this situation. He came back to my mouth and I nipped him again in warning.

A mad smile appeared on his face. It probably matched my own. We were both panting, fighting for air. Both stubborn as hell. Without another word he released my wrists and drew back. Quickly, he grabbed my waist and turned me over, pulling me up onto my elbows and knees. Arranging me how he wanted me. Rough hands tore at the button and zip on my jeans. He yanked down my pants and crazily overpriced thong, body poised over mine.

His hands smoothed over my ass. Teeth dragged over the sensitive skin of one cheek, just above the tattoo of his name. A hand slipped beneath to cup my sex. The press of his fingers against me had me seeing stars. When they started stroking me, working me higher, I couldn’t hold back my moan. He nipped me on the ass again, a sharp sting of sensation. Then he pressed kisses up my spine. Stubble from his chin scratched my shoulder.

The lack of words, the absolute silence apart from our heavy breathing made it more. It made it different.

One finger slid inside me. Not nearly enough, damn it. He slid in a second finger, stretching me a little. Once, twice, he slowly pumped it into me. I pushed back against his hand, needing more. Next came the sound of the bedside drawer sliding open as he searched for a condom. His fingers slid out of me and the loss was excruciating. I heard his zipper being lowered, the rustle of clothes and the crinkle of a condom wrapper. Then his cock pressed against me, rubbing over my opening. He pushed in slow and steady, filling me up until there was nothing left that wasn’t me and him. For a moment he stopped, letting me adjust.

But not for long.

Hands gripped my hips and he began to move. Each thrust was a little faster and harder than the last. Labored breathing and the slap of skin against skin swallowed the silence. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air. I pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, spurring him on. It was nothing like the sweet and slow of this morning. Neither of us was tender. My jeans shackled me at the knees, making me slip forward a little with each thrust. His fingers dug into my hips, holding me in place. He stroked over something inside me and I gave a startled gasp. Again and again, he concentrated on that spot, making me mindless. I felt superheated. Like fire burned through me. Sweat dripped off my skin. I hung my head, closed my eyes and held onto the floor with all my might. My voice called out without my consent, saying his name. Damn it. My body wasn’t my own. I came hard, overwhelmed with sensation. My back bowed and I threw my head back, every muscle drawn tight.

Rhys pounded into me, hands slipping over my slick skin, reaching forward and grabbing my hair in his fist. I continued to come, the orgasm seeming to go on forever and ever, the tug on my roots only adding fuel to the fire. He came a moment later, releasing his hold on my hair, groaning my name in the most erotic way, holding himself deep. His face rested against my back, one arm wrapped around my body, which was lucky. I’d lost all traction. Slowly I slid to the floor.

In silence, he picked me up and carried me into the bathroom, sat me on the sink. Without fuss he dealt with the condom, started running a bath, holding a hand beneath the faucet to check the temperature. He undressed me like I was a child, pulling off my sneakers and socks, my jeans and panties. He tugged off my shirt and unclasped my bra. His own clothes were ripped off with far less care. I felt curiously naked with him now, the way he was treating me. Being so careful with me despite my biting and inexperience. He treated me like I was precious. Like I was a china doll. One he could apparently have rough sex with upon occasion. Once more, he checked the water, then he picked me up again and into the bath we went.

I huddled against him, my skin cooling off fast. He held me tighter, resting his cheek against the top of my head.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough,” he said finally. “I didn’t mean it, accusing you of shit like that. I just… Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Rough wasn’t a problem, but the trust issue… We’re going to need to talk about it sometime.” I rested my head against his shoulder, staring up into his troubled eyes.

His chin jerked as he gave me a tight nod.

I quietly said, “But right now, I’d like to talk about Vegas.”

The arms around me tensed. “What about Vegas?”

I stared back at him, still trying to think everything through. Not wanting to get this wrong, whatever this was.

Marriage, that’s what it was.

Shit.

“We’ve covered a lot of ground in the last twenty-four hours,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess we have,” he replied, looking down at me.

I held up my hand, my sparkly ring. The size of the diamond didn’t matter. That Rhysand had put it on me was what made it important. “We talked about lots of things. We slept together, and we made promises to each other, important ones.”

He nodded. “You regretting any of it?”

My hand slid around the back of his neck. “No. Absolutely not. But if you woke up tomorrow, and you’d somehow forgotten all of this. If it was all gone for you, like it had never happened, I would be furious at you.”

His forehead wrinkled and he looked away.

I added, “I’d hate you for forgetting all this when it’s meant everything to me.”

He licked his lips and turned off the tap with a foot. Without the water gushing out, the room quieted instantly.

“Yeah,” he said. “I was angry.”

“I’m not going to let you down like that again.”

Beneath me his chest rose and fell heavily. “Okay.”

“I know it takes time to learn to trust someone.” I carefully turned his face back to mine. “But in the meantime, I need you to at least give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“I know.” Wary, violet eyes watched me.

I sat up and reached for the washcloth on the edge of the bath. “Let me clean you up a little.”

A dark lump sat on his jaw. Blood lingered beneath his nose and near his mouth. He was a mess. A big red mark was on his ribs.

“You should see a doctor,” I said.

He shook his head. “Nothing’s broken.”

Carefully, I wiped the blood from the side of his mouth and beneath his nose. Seeing him in pain was horrible. Knowing I was the cause made my stomach twist and turn. “Tell me if I press too hard.”

“You’re fine.”

“I’m sorry you got hurt. In the bar tonight, and in Vegas. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

His eyes softened and his hands slid over me. “I want you to come back to LA with me. I want you with me. I know school will start back eventually and we’re gonna have to work something out. But whatever happens, I don’t want us apart.”

I shook my head. “We’re not going to be.”

“Promise?” He breathed, leaning down to kiss me.

“Promise.”

#what happens in vegas #snelbz whiv #feysand #snelbz tacmc collab #snacmc #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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