#also you want to know something fucked up this album is not even available in my country i have to use a vpn to get it and idek know why

[yourfavouritemoondemon]

Hello friends, I barely know how to use this app but I know the magnus archives fans are here!!! Not sure how many people here are tma fans and also Aurora fans but I am being driven insane, absolutely berserk. Aurora just released an album and on it are two awesome songs, one called The blade and the other called My body is not mine. These songs have SUCH tma energy and I NEED someone else to know this and validate it. The blade to me is late TMA (like when everything goes to shit) and my body is not mine reminds me so much of Daisy!!!! So much!!! Honestly The blade also reminds me a lot of daisy, especially the ending. I have been artblocked for an ungodly amount of time but someone needs to make an Amv to these PLEASE

[therealcocoshady]

RED CARPET APPEARANCE 🎥

Eminem x Young Actress Reader

This is Part 2 of Daddy's Spaghetti 🥰

Synopsis : You argue with Em about a red carpet appearance at the Oscars.

The last thing you wanted was to argue with your boyfriend right before going to the Oscars, but there you were. Lately, the two of you had been arguing quite a bit. To be fair, both of you were working a lot and being in a long distance relationship didn’t help. Not only did you have to manage hectic schedules, you also had to deal with time difference and last minute changes in plans. You had been dating Marshall for a few months now and you weren’t too sure how long things would last. Sure, when you were together, things were great, but actually getting together seemed impossible, these days. Right when you thought you could both make time, there was always something coming up, like an unplanned studio session, a meeting, or God knows what else. It didn’t help either that Marshall was paranoid about the two of you being seen together. 

After more than a decade in the spotlight and living in Los Angeles, you were used to paparazzi and having your picture taken whenever you were running errands. Of course, sometimes, it was annoying, but you had learned to live with it. Marshall, on the other hand, in spite of having a career lasting over twenty-five years was as paranoid as one could get. It was one of the many reasons why he hated being in Los Angeles and always tried to get you to come to Detroit instead, along with the weather being too hot. In truth, you didn’t mind going to Michigan or spending a lot of time inside, just the two of you. This time, however, you wished he would be the one making an effort. You were nominated for an Oscar for the first time and it was a big night for you. You knew he wasn’t a big fan of public appearances but you wished he would agree to coming with you. After all, he was a nominee himself - for the same movie as you, mind you - and everyone pretty much knew about your relationship, even though none of you had officially confirmed it. To you, there was no reason not to walk the red carpet together. However, when you asked him if he would be your date to the Academy Awards, he wasn’t too enthusiast. In fact, all you got from him was a « erm, I don’t know. We’ll see. Let me think about it. ». And after giving it some thought, he decided not to go with you, breaking it to you over FaceTime, three days before the event. He brought up a bunch of reasons, like having a studio session with Dre that might run late and prevent him from making it in time, hating the red carpet anyway and not wanting to be paraded in a suit that made him look like a penguin. He did not seem to care that you having to take someone else as your date would mean you wouldn’t be sitting next to each other or that you would have wanted him to be by your side. You were mad. You had always known he didn’t really care about awards and public appearances, but you wished he would make an effort for you. Him being set in his ways made you feel like he wouldn’t put you first, just for once. 

Do you even want to be with me ? You blurted out after he told you to find another date. 

What the fuck ? He asked with disbelief all over his face. What does that have to do with that damn red carpet, Y/N ? 

You cancelled the last time you were supposed to come to LA, you’re never available and now you won’t even make an effort for me, you explained. If you don’t want to be with me anymore, just say so… 

You’re so dramatic, they better give you that Oscar, he groaned. Not everything is about you, you know ? I’m working my ass off to get the album done in time, I don’t need you complaining over a stupid red carpet appearance. 

Oh I’m being dramatic ? You asked as you stared at his face on the screen. I’ll give you drama : you can book a hotel room and forget about all the nasty things you were planning on doing to me in bed for next time we were supposed to see each other. 

Whatever, he said as he rolled his eyes. Just go and rehearse your acceptance speech. I have to go anyway. I have Dre calling on the other line. I’ll call you later. 

He did try to call you a couple of hours later, but you didn’t feel like picking up. You were still pissed off and, frankly, a little stressed out too. After all, he hadn’t answered your question about wanting to be with you. You knew you’d have to talk to him at some point - and get to the bottom of the situation, but you also didn’t want to break up over the phone merely three days before one of the most important events of your life. Whatever it was, it could wait until after the Oscars. 

You ended up walking the red carpet with your older brother as your date. The two of you were extremely close and he had always been your plus one to events. It sort of made sense to go to the Oscars with him, even though you would have loved to have Marshall by your side. Your big brother was all smiles as he watched you pose for the photographers in a stunning custom Alaïa dress. However, your attire or possible Best Actress win wasn’t exactly the main focus of the journalists, who were yelling questions about your boyfriend who was nowhere to be found. 

Where is Eminem, Y/N ? One asked. Is he coming tonight ? 

Are the two of you together ? Another yelled. 

You didn’t answer the questions about him, only the ones about your nomination, how you’d feel about winning, the movie and your outfit. You tried to focus on the positives and everything this night meant for your career, but you had a hard time focusing. All you wanted was Marshall���s hand in yours and him to be by your side. Hell, you had even picked the dress color because you thought he would like it. You knew that blue was his favorite color and had figured that, if the two of you were to walk the red carpet together, it would make his eyes pop. 

Breathe, your brother said. You look tense. Is this about Em ? 

Just call him by his name, you said as you rolled his eyes. You’ve met him. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be your date and enjoy the open bar, he continued, but you look… upset ? 

I think he wants to break up with me, you said nervously. 

No he doesn’t, your brother scoffed. Where did you get that from ? 

Well, he’s never available, he didn’t want to be here with me tonight, and he called me dramatic, and… 

First of all, you are dramatic, your brother chuckled. Also, you know he’s working a lot… 

I should have known better than to ask his biggest fan for support, you said as you rolled your eyes. 

Just shut up and focus on your big night, sis, he said with a smile. My baby sister might be getting the biggest award there is for being dramatic, tonight. Now, I think we should focus on that, as well as the fact that stylists managed to make you look presentable. 

Your brother’s weird encouragement was a good way to make you smile, and the glasses of champagne waiters kept on handing you did a great job when it came to taking the edge off. You were taken to your seats and the ceremony began. You kept nervously searching for Marshall in the crowd but you didn’t manage to spot him. Was he skipping the whole thing ? Your mind wandered as the ceremony unfolded and you were soon on autopilot. It was your first time attending the Academy Awards and this had to be the longest ceremony ever. The only entertaining things were the various performances. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard the music of Marshall’s song - the one he had written for the movie. He was not supposed to perform tonight - this had not been announced - but he was on stage, rapping the song that got him his second Oscars nomination exactly twenty years after winning Best Original Song for Lose Yourself. The crowd was wild and you were excited as well. Seeing him on stage made you forget how mad at him you were and you were back to being his number one fan, gushing over how good he looked and rapping the lyrics at the same time, like the groupie you very much were. His performance got him a standing ovation and, twenty minutes and a commercial break later, he was back on stage, accepting the award for Best Original Song. Only this time, he was conforming to the Academy’s dress code, looking dapper in a tux. He might hate this type of outfit, but no one could deny he looked absolutely incredible. One detail did catch your eye : the bow tie he was wearing was made of the same fabric as your dress. He was matching with you ! 

When you wouldn’t return his calls, he called me to ask who you were going to wear, your brother told you. 

He did ? You squeed. 

Yep. Not the kind of thing anyone who wants to break up with you would do, I think. I’m not supposed to tell you, but he’s got another one to match your second dress, too… 

You couldn’t help but smile. The fact that he would go out of his way to call your brother, as well as the dressmakers to have a bowtie matching your dress was absolutely adorable. You couldn’t keep your eyes off Marshall, who was giving a heartfelt speech about how great it felt to have the Academy acknowledge hip-hop and how grateful he was to have the opportunity to be on this stage, two decades after Lose Yourself won. His speech was just like him : elegant and understated. When he went back to his seat, you could see him search for you in the crowd and you waved quietly, sending him a kiss. You couldn’t wait to go and hug him. 

Can’t you behave ? Your brother chuckled. There’s cameras, Y/N. And try not to eye fuck him or drool, this time, will you ? 

I’ll try, you giggled. 

You were almost in agony the rest of the night and the two of you kept looking  and smiling at each other. As always when the two of you were in the same room, you were unable to take your eyes off him for a single second. You didn’t pay much attention to anything else that was going on, so much so that you almost missed your name being called for Best Actress. Everyone around you got up and cheered for you and you were lost. You had actually won an Oscar ?! You ? It didn’t feel right. Bit it was indeed, your name on the screen, and people kept on looking at you. Your brother had to help you get up as you came to your senses and realized that your childhood dream had come true. You made your way to the stage as tears of joy were welling in your eyes. You were almost shaking with nerves as you started your acceptance speech. You had one written and memorized but you couldn’t remember it for the life of you. You spotted Marshall in the crowd, who was smiling and looking at you with pride in his eyes, mouthing a silent « I love you ». 

I… Wow, you said nervously into the microphone. I can’t believe this is happening. I had something really heartfelt, clever and funny written but I can’t remember a single word so please bear with me. Hum… Standing here, on this stage, holding this award is a childhood dream come true. First, I want to thank my family who has always supported my passion, and I’d like to thank everyone in Hollywood that gave me a chance to act. And everyone who didn’t. In fact, I want to acknowledge every person who doubted me. And every boyfriend of mine who called me dramatic. There have been a few, and you best believe I’m creating a group chat tonight and telling them that I actually got an award for being dramatic and made it my full-time job. Um… What else ? Oh, uh, thank you to my manager, assistant, glam squad… Shout out to Alaïa for getting me into this dress tonight, and shout out to Marshall Mathers who will be taking it off me tonight. Dreams do come true, guys ! 

The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter and you could see Marshall laughing before you exited the stage. When you made it backstage, you took a moment to sit and realize what just happened. You had won an Oscar. Oh, and you had accidentally mentioned Marshall taking off your clothes. On stage. While million of people probably watched the ceremony on TV… Oops. A few people came to congratulate you, though you were quickly ushered back to your seat for the remainder of the ceremony. The movie you were in did not end up winning Best Picture, but you easily got over your disappointment. When the ceremony ended, you were swarmed by an army of people who came to congratulate you. You even got to hug Meryl Streep and tell her how she was the one who made you want to act in the first place, and this was definitely the highlight of your night. Your brother had gotten out of your sight and was enjoying the open bar, as he always did whenever he came with you to an event. When the crowd began to vacate, you had a moment to yourself. That’s when you spotted your boyfriend. 

Congratulations, he said as he pulled you into his arms. 

Congratulations to you too, you said giddily. You were amazing on stage ! 

As were you, he replied with a smile. Great speech, by the way… 

Oh my God, I am so sorry, you said. I forgot my speech, and I-I… Are you mad ? 

It’s fine, he chuckled. You’re way too adorable for me to be mad. 

Really ? You asked nervously. I know how you are about privacy… 

Really, he said reassuringly. And with you looking like this… ? I am glad everyone knows you’re spoken for. 

I think they got the idea when they saw you matching with me, you said with excitement. 

You like it ? He asked with a smile. I had to ask your brother and harass the dressmakers. They hate me. 

He told me, you said giddily. And I know you have another one to match my dress for the afterparty, too… 

If you still want me as your date, that is, he pointed out. 

I do, you giggled. But I’m going to need your help to get out of this dress and into the other… 

Let’s go, then. 

He grabbed your hand and you walked out of the theater, holding your awards, while an army of journalists were screaming to get your attention. You half-expected Marshall to let go of your hand, knowing how guarded he was when it came to the press, but he only squeezed it tighter before grabbing you by the waist as you made your way to a car. 

Em, how are you feeling tonight ? A journalist asked. 

Have you seen my date ? I’m great, man, he grinned as he looked at you lovingly. 

VIDEO : WATCH AS EMINEM GUSHES OVER Y/N AFTER THE OSCARS

Eminem & Y/N have officially confirmed their relationship ! The couple did not walk the red carpet together but they certainly made a memorable exit, as Eminem gushed over his date to journalists while not letting go of her. This happened after Y/N hinted at Em taking her Alaïa dress off her in her acceptance speech. While the Rap God did not mention his girlfriend in his own speech, he certainly appeared in love. While known for his stoic face, he was seen smiling all evening, especially when they made their way to the Vanity Fair afterparty (almost an hour late, mind you…)  in matching outfits. And if he does not seem like one to kiss and tell, no one missed Y/N’s lipstick all over his mouth, nor the hickies in his neck. 

That night was a big one for the rapper and the movie star, as they both took home statues, respectively for Best Original Song and Best Actress. And from the looks of it, they certainly celebrated. 

[aggieharkness]

Have i earned it, mother? Chp. 3

Pairing: Avis Amberg x reader

Summary: You had never thought you would get to have a date with Avis, much less that it would be on New Year's Eve. No matter if it wasn't entirely perfect it would still be wonderful because she was with you and you were with her.

Warnings: smut (+18), affair, swearing, oral (Avis receiving), fingering (Avis receiving), oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), tit play. Romance, fluff, confessions, lingerie... I don't know what else needs to be added.

Authors note: Merry Christmas!!! It has taken me a bit longer than anticipated to finish this, but it's fucking long and my poor little neuron has been working overtime, still I hope you like this new chapter. The song that plays in the car is "Time after time" by Frank Sinatra and the ones from the restaurant are from the album "Love me the way I love you" by Jerry Vale. Please, do tell me if I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking on something... you know I accept constructive criticism. If you want more, tell me. I am here for you, my dear people, I listen. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Avis Amberg.

This is my Christmas gift to you all, so I hope you like it!! 😊🎄 Thanks to @bravewithacapitalb for being my beta reader, you are a God send. Also shoutout to those who didn't make it, I still appreciate you @dont-blame-me-she-made-me-crazy @4theluvofsapphos @celestemoon-9 @renafisher27

Chp. 1 Chp. 2

Word count: 26K (I'm very sorry but also not that sorry. I am aware that it's long as fuck.)

You made me love you

The music from your old record player echoed throughout the house, bouncing off the walls and into every room of your tiny apartment. With no neighbours around you, there was no issue with the volume, or with the way you banged the doors of your wardrobe as you fretted around your bedroom. Swaying to the beat of the trumpet, your body glided barefoot from the bathroom over to the bed, your sweet voice harmonizing with Fats Waller’s vocals as he sang “Ain’t Misbehavin’”, your hair curled, brushed, and pinned on the back of your head. Tonight was special and you wanted to look and feel as glamorous as all those girls at the studio that would be going to private or big parties, even if your plans were much simpler. With a beautiful deep black lace strapless corselette hooked around your figure and a pair of nude stockings secured by the clips that hung from the garment hugging your frame you stood observing two dresses. They had both cost you a fortune but thanks to Avis’s raise in your salary you had not had to ask the cashier if you could pay for them in three different transactions, you had just wiped out the cash and paid them in full. You had felt so rich, even if it had been just for a moment. Observing the gown on the left you took in the off-shoulder shape of the top, the tight draped bodice and the lightly ruffled and puffed skirt, a beautiful translucent lilac tulle around it complimenting the darker purple shade of the dress itself.

 It was more of a ballgown than anything else and you had nowhere to wear it, but it had been too beautiful, and back at the store you had thought that one Christmas gift to yourself wasn’t so bad, not when you hadn’t bought yourself something just for the fun of it in years. Moving onto the gown on the right you felt a smile creep up on your lips. It really was smashing, strapless, with a tight bodice and skirt that would certainly hug every single curve in your body, a slit on the right side that reached about mid-thigh. Touching the fabric with your fingertips you could not help the shiver of happiness you felt at the feeling of the midnight blue velvet. It had to be this one, since the first instants you had laid eyes on it, on that faceless mannequin back at the boutique, you had known it would be the dress you would wear to take Avis out on New Years Eve. Without giving it another thought you opened the back zipper and pulled it over your legs, around your hips until it finally covered your body, your arms and hands battling to get hold of the zipper to close it up. After a two-minute struggle that included jumping senselessly around your bedroom, you finally managed to zip it, smoothing the fabric and rushing to look at your reflection in the mirror. You could knock anyone’s socks off with the way your breasts practically spilled out and your leg peeked out from under the sea of velvet.

Giving your back to the mirror, in your tiny room where there wasn’t a place for a vanity, makeup pilled on your nightstand and over the bathroom sink, you made your way to the jewellery box that laid open over the covers of your bed, hands rummaging among the few pieces you owned. There was a pair of pearl earrings that you were not going to wear, Avis was a pearl sort of gal and you didn’t want to clash with her, two pairs of golden rings, a matching necklace, and a lovely sapphire set that you had been given years ago by a an aunt that you could not remember anymore but that your parents had said did questionable things for a living. Who didn’t at the end of the day? That set matched your outfit perfectly, the golden chain that wrapped along a string of rounded sapphires and crystals feeling terribly cold as you placed it over your collarbone, clasping it in the back. The earrings were small and didn’t seem to be heavy as you put them on, the final piece left being a simple ring that you slid on the middle finger of your right hand; somehow it didn’t feel right to place it on either of your ring fingers. The last touch that you needed to complete it all was your shoes, that you searched for all over the room, panicking for a second when you couldn’t find the box before taking a relieved breath, hand on your chest, as they had been under the bed. You must have accidentally kicked them while jumping to get the dress on. In that box, wrapped in a beautiful silk tissue, in all their glory, were a pair of black Balenciaga stilettos that had swallowed the last bits of your salary once all bills and amenities had been paid, of course. They were gorgeous, you were in love with them and once you put them on, fitting your feet like gloves, you took one last look in the mirror, the dark cherry red lipstick shade you wore complimenting the palette beautifully.

Checking the clock that rested on your nightstand, between the bottle of lotion and translucent powder, it read a quarter past ten. To you, it wasn’t that late, but Avis was probably absolutely famished by now, and you still needed to drive for over ten minutes to get to her place. You practically skated from one side of the bedroom to the other, spraying some perfume and grabbing the lipstick from the bathroom before rushing into the hallway, putting keys and other essentials in your purse, and yanking your old coat off the rack. Getting yourself a fancy one would have been pushing it a bit too much. Out of the apartment you stopped midway to the stairs when you realised you had not turned the music off, huffing in frustration and running back to your door, unlocking it and unplugging the record player. Rushing wasn’t going to get you anywhere if you had to come back every five seconds to turn shit off, so you made a leap through your apartment turning off lights and other appliances before locking the front door and heading down into the street. The sky was clear, full of stars that the streetlights would cover up as soon as you began to drive through the main avenues, the temperature cold but thankfully not as freezing as it had been that night, still you took a moment to breath in the crispy air and gaze at the universe above your head. Nature was beautiful every day of the year.

Returning your gaze to the street, right in front of your building was your beautiful burgundy car, waiting, a smile painting your lips. You could still hardly believe Avis had got it for you, sure after three hours of fucking each other at her place and after she had assured you she would, her frame relaxed and utterly satisfied as she signed the check without thinking about it twice and handing it to Mr. Russell, but it still thrilled you to no end. The memory of the both of you walking into the dealership with two completely different outfits, the men glaring and Mr. Russell rushing to greet you both made your smile even bigger, wondering if he had noticed the change of clothes and had simply decided not to mention it.

Unlocking the vehicle, it still thrilled you whenever your fingers touched the leather, that smell of new car lingering alongside Avis’s perfume in every crevice and stitch. It was the perfect combination. With your old one it would have taken you about three tries to get the engine up and running, this one was ready to go on the first try, moving smoothly onto the road and down towards the Amberg residence. When you had suggested to Miss Kincaid during a coffee break the possibility of going to the studio’s New Year’s Eve party, you had been excited, after all, it had taken you a whole morning to finally bring yourself to make the decision. But that little bubble of happiness had been burst upon hearing her say that it would not happen this year, at least not the way it always had been, at Mr. Amberg’s residence with every actor and actress in existence, but mainly with a very drunk Avis trying to be pleasant to all those idiots she had told you a thousand times she didn’t give a shit about. Mr. Samuels was hosting it instead because Mr. Amberg was going to some party at his Gentleman’s Club or something. You hadn’t wanted to press the matter too much as not to draw much attention to yourself and have Miss Kincaid asking questions. The initial disappointment had melted into nothing when you had come across Avis at the studio barely fifteen minutes after your conversation with Miss Kincaid and had blurted out if she wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with you, expecting her to smile politely and decline the offer by saying that she had to attend the party with her husband. Your knickers dropped though, metaphorically that time, when she agreed, sounding almost excited at the prospect of spending time with you and only you. That same evening you had found yourself looking for the perfect outfit in every store you could find, except the really expensive ones, you didn’t fancy the idea of selling a kidney for a dress if you could find a stunning one somewhere cheaper.

Dinners all over Hollywood had ended hours ago, people singing and dancing out in the streets as they headed to bars or private celebrations, drinks in their hands or in flasks deep within their purses and pockets. Your eyes observed it all, the bright lights, the sounds that the New Year was bringing as they mixed with the song playing on the radio. It sounded like Frank Sinatra, perhaps it was a new release or something, either way, it blended quite nicely with the world around you as Sunset Boulevard wrapped its atmosphere around your car. Taking a side street, you drove up a road filled with palm trees on either side before coming to a stop in front of the Ambergs’ gates. You didn’t have to wait this time, the old gentleman had seen you arrive and was already unlocking them, waiving to you excitedly as you drove the vehicle in and parked it on the side. He was wearing a bright red bowtie you noticed as you stepped out of the car, pulling your coat tighter around you, and had tinsel on his uniform hat. You made a mental note to ask him his name the next time you came over, he was far too kind not to engage him in conversation at some point. Locking your car, you flashed him with a genuine smile and an energetic wave before making your way to the front doors and ringing the bell. There was a wave of sounds on the other side, Gertie’s muffled voice saying that there was someone at the door, almost as if it was a code, and Avis’s panicked voice answering with something you did not quite catch. A few moments later the doors creaked open, the maid showing you into the entrance hallway, your eyes noticing that she was wearing a pretty dress instead of her usual uniform, a touch of rouge and lipstick on her face that suited her quite well.

-She will be right down miss. Would you like a drink while you wait?

-Oh, I’m fine, no need to go to all that trouble Gertie. You look very fancy, going somewhere?

-Welcoming the year with some of the ladies of my Bridge Club, miss.

-Well, I hope you have fun. I know I will.

She chuckled at the comment but didn’t say anything else, simply smiled knowingly before heading for the kitchen. Before you could begin to observe the room around you the sound of someone clearing their throat made you whip your head towards the stairs. You choked on the air you were breathing, sputtering quietly for a second. Holy shit. Angels could not shine brighter nor be more beautiful than the image your eyes were taking in.

The sight at the top of the stairs was right out of a fantasy novel where ethereal beings walked among simple mortals, mixed with those movies that captivated your heart with all the romance and glamour. Waves of red cascaded over her shoulders and framed her perfect face with such volume and shine that not even Rita Hayworth would be able to make your eyes stray. Those gorgeous deep brown eyes staring back at you through thick black eyelashes that seemed to be longer and more sensual tonight, her magnificent cheekbones adorned in gentle hues of pink and peach rouge. You could not help it, your eyes travelled down to her mouth, her usual shade of Victory Red perfectly applied. They seemed fuller and plumper tonight, sending a shiver of desire down your spine. Her long neck and enticing collarbones were exposed by a plunging square neckline that defined the top of her breasts exquisitely, her arms wrapped in translucent satin the same shade as her dress, an absolutely pristine white. Her curves, as hypnotising as river bends, were hidden under gentle drapes of silk that met at her waist, her legs peeking through the skirt as if folded on the side of her body, her hand holding the fabric to make sure you would be able to see the nude stockings that she was wearing underneath, her right foot resting on the edge of the first stair. Your eyes racked and ate at her long shapely leg, tongue running over your lips, her dainty feet dressed in matching pristine white heels that peeked from under the hem of her gown.

Avis was beautiful every day of the week, every second of every minute all year long, but the Avis that stood at the top of the stairs was a vision so divine, so sublime in every single aspect that you had to put your hand on the doorframe, your knees having grown weak. Licking her neck with your eyes you were glad you had forgone the pearl earrings, as she was wearing her own pair, much more expensive and beautiful than yours, and a matching necklace that rested gently over her collarbone, right under the hollow of her neck. With each breath she took her breasts rose and fell, drawing your body towards her as your eyes went back up to her face, locking with hers. For a moment you tasted chocolate on your palate. She took one step forward letting the skirt fall back into place, walking down the staircase slowly, absolutely delighted in the way your pupils had dilated and practically undressed her while also simply adoring her. Her hips swayed from right to left with each step, her right hand on the railing, tracing the banister with her fingertips. Even in the few feet that still separated you, you could already smell her positively elegant and rich perfume, dizzying your mind as you stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for the moment when she would reach your arms, allowing you to sweep her off her feet. One more step and she stood half a foot above you, your head lulled back slightly to keep on staring. Had you blinked since hearing her? Her index finger traced your jawline until it rested under your chin.

-Hello, dear.

-Hi… Hello.

-You seem a bit flustered. Do you need a glass of water? – she was teasing, of course, her voice low and sultry but sounding delighted to see you, and well, she was not entirely wrong; you were cursing yourself and wished you had asked Gertie for a drink after all, your throat suddenly dry.

-No, no. Just… Wow.

-I take you like it then. I got it tailored and ready for the festivities yesterday.

-It’s beautiful, but it’s you, as a whole, that makes it absolutely extraordinary. – she blushed a deep red at your compliment, her finger moving to toy with your necklace as she dropped her gaze, an embarrassed smile on her red lips. – You’ve even let your hair down.

-That was Gertie’s suggestion. Said that you would appreciate it. – she pushed the perfect waves over her shoulder. The initial idea had been to wear a different updo to her usual ones and call it a day, but that blessed maid of hers had mentioned how the style nowadays was more along the lines of letting the hair free. Avis had thought about it for a moment, wondering if you would actually like it or not. By the way you were practically eating her with your eyes she was glad she had followed Gertie’s suggestion.

-So she knows?

-We fucked for three hours the other day, honey. There was no way in hell I was going to come up with something to cover that up.  Don’t worry, she’s alright with this, us.

-I hope it’s due to the fact that I make you happy and not because you could fire her.

-Fire Gertie? Never, the house would fall apart. She’s simply happy that I’m happy because you make me happy.

-The word happy just lost its entire meaning after repeating it so much. – it took you a moment to build up the courage to touch her as you didn’t want to stain the gorgeous gown; she was a vision in white that you wanted to keep in your mind forever. Your hand went straight to her shoulder, caressing the side of her neck while twirling a lock of her hair. It was so soft, and it smelled like orange blossoms, an aroma you had mentioned you adored as it reminded you of home. She had taken notes. - But it’s okay, I think I can come up with a whole new meaning for it.

-What would it be?

-What I feel when I see you, when I’m with you. – you were enthralled by the way the lock of hair in between your fingers glided effortlessly, speaking in hushed tones while breathing her essence into your lungs, never wanting to stop. - One can be happy about a book or a dish, but what goes through my mind and heart when I lay my eyes on you cannot be simply referred to as happy, one must give the word a brand-new meaning to understand, to express.

-Could you… - her lips were hovering over yours, her right hand resting on the banister while her left one travelled to the back of your neck, but she didn’t take the next step to close the gap between you, she wanted to hear you. -Could you tell me? Make me see what you see?

-The night is young Avis, and I don’t want to spill all my secrets so soon. I promise that I’ll tell you, tonight, but if you need a little bit of help figuring it out on your own, just think about how your heart races when I’m with you, of all the little details you’ve left for me around my office, like little breadcrumbs that take me directly to you. No one has ever left me flowers or a sandwich with a note simply saying “Eat”. You take care of me even when you are not there, so I know you know the true meaning of the word, even if I never told you, even if I carried that secret to my grave. – your voice dropped into a whisper, eyes locked with hers now, your lips nearly touching. - You’ve even made yourself smell like home for me.

Is this how she had felt when she had married Ace? She could not remember her heart ever leaping in her chest at the sight of him, nor her breath hitching in her lungs when he smiled. She might be married to that man, but he made her feel like she was nothing, fuelling only hate and hurt in her heart. Your breath tickled her nose, your hand drawing out goosebumps all over as it continued twirling beneath her ear. Everything about you made her feel alive, not even the boys at the gas station could draw out the pleasure into care; they came, fucked her and left with a hundred dollars in their pocket, but you had come into her life without her having asked and you had stayed out of your own accord. You wanted her in your life as much as she wanted you in hers. None of the things you did to or for her were to earn a promotion or for Avis to connect you with higher ups in the industry like she had had happen with others before, you did all those things for her without expecting anything in return because you wanted to make her happy, as simple as that. Hearing you speak to her with such emotion, your eyes shining with a feeling she had not seen in such a long time drove her chest to constrict under her corselette, the prospect of hearing you say what she wanted you to say making her heart race, her eyes glistening with unexpected tears that your thumb wiped gently as they fell, not wishing to smudge her makeup. No, you are the only one who could make her feel like this, utterly desired and cared for. So loved.

-Why are you crying? Have I said something to upset you?

-No, darling, you haven’t done anything wrong, I’m just… happy.

-Just the way I like you then.

Finally, she pressed her lips onto yours, softly, treading carefully into your space while moving her left arm around your neck fully. It felt like coming home. She did not make an attempt to enter your mouth even when you parted your lips slightly to grant her access, she basked in the feeling of your mouth simply being pressed against hers, the taste of your carmine on her tongue when she traced it. You didn’t need to ask her what she was feeling after your conversation, her lips were giving you enough information with the way she pecked and gently nibbled, pouring everything into the kiss. Parting after a minute to fill both your lungs she pressed her forehead against yours, her soft red curls falling around and over her face, caressing and slightly tickling your cheeks. She gave you a few more pecks before pulling back needing to feel the skin of your face, your warmth, needing to know that this was not a dream and that you were indeed solid and real under the palm of her right hand. There was desire in everything the two of you did, but there were too many things to do tonight, people expecting you both and you had gone to all the trouble to do this for her, so Avis pushed the need to take you upstairs to the back of her head for the time being. Ace had dumped her to go partying with his friends, and probably a hooker or two, thinking she would be moping around the house like a sad drunk housewife, not thinking that Avis was resourceful and had a beautiful lady in her arms who had planned the perfect night. She was dressed to kill, and she would have the best fucking New Year of her life. About to give you another peck, Gertie accidentally broke the spell by crossing the threshold, coming from the kitchen. Both of your heads turned to look at the woman.

-I’m sorry to interrupt Mrs. Amberg, but Miss Kincaid has phoned in quite a state asking if you would be so kind as to go to Mr. Samuel’s house.

-Is she alright? – Avis pecked your cheek before setting foot on the entrance hallway, the silk flowing like water around her body with each step she took towards Gertie, her voice dressed with concern.

-She seemed… worried, perhaps angry as well ma’am and she was adamant that I tell you that she needs you to go to Mr. Samuel’s house.

-But she didn’t explain to you why?

-I’m afraid not ma’am.

-It’s okay Avis, there’s plenty of time until twelve. – the relationship Avis shared with Ellen Kincaid was long and comforting, but also frustrating and caring, and anything that woman said to Avis always helped her somehow, without fail. You had seen the Kincaid magic at work a few times since you had begun working as her secretary, calming shouting spells or angry huffs. You also knew Avis would do anything for her and had given Ellen plenty of advice about various topics throughout the years, so having her call reinforcements like this meant that someone or something was going on that only the mighty Avis could handle. You walked over to her, placing both hands on her arms, rubbing the soft fabric and the skin underneath in a comforting motion. - We won’t lose our reservations just because we are little bit late, and Miss Kincaid needs your help

-As long as you are sure about this and don’t mind driving to Dick’s house, I guess it’s alright. I can give Ellen a call though and see what she wants, save us having to go at all.

-I swear I’m fine with it, Avis. If you are worried about people seeing me with you, I’ll just stay in the car.

-What? No! I don’t give a shit about what they think, I just don’t want your plans to go down the drain.

-They won’t, I promise. We go, see what the problem is, fix it if we can and then leave. Easy plan.

-You say that now, when you are not amongst drunk actors and producers. We’ll go in but we don’t know when we might come out.

-I’ve survived shopping on Thanksgiving and Christmas. I can take a few drunks just fine. Come on, the sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll leave. - She groaned a little but followed your cue, grabbing her black stole from where it laid over the railing, throwing it over her shoulder, and picking up her purse from the little table next to the front doors. Gertie wished you both a good night, winking discreetly in your direction as you opened those big wooden gates for Avis, letting her walk into the night. You rushed over to her when you heard the click of the doors behind you, watching the lady as she stomped towards your car. – Hey, hey. Avis, wait, stop. – she halted her motions, turning around with a questioning look in her big eyes. You took her free hand in yours as soon as you reached her. – Don’t be mad, Ellen is your friend, and she might be in real trouble.

-I know. I’m not mad at her, nor you, I’m fucking pissed at Ace for not giving a shit about traditions and dumping the party on Dick. His house is not as big as ours and some of the people that get invited turn into fucking monsters when they’ve got a couple of vodkas in their system. I’m worried about Ellen, sure, but I don’t want to subject you to any of that. I don’t want you to be in harm’s way.

-I love that you want to protect me, Avis, honestly, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Ellen is our priority, and if something does happen to me while we are there, I’ll scream the house down or stab people with my heels, whatever it takes to ease your mind. But we will cross that bridge if get to it, okay?

-If someone lays a single finger on you, I’ll destroy them. Their lives, their careers, maybe even their bodies. – her eyes were dark as she stepped back into your personal space, pulling you against her frame with the hand that you were still holding, feeling the way her breasts brushed against your coat through her gown with each breath. The rush of desire that you had first felt when she had stood at the top of the stairs returned full force, the air around you both charged and hot. - They’ll remember who Avis fucking Amberg is and that she will take drastic measures when it comes to you.

-Holy fuck, Avis.

-I very much intend to do so to you, honey, but after we rescue Ellen. You’ve made a good case in her name, and you promised me a date, so get your ass in that car.

-Yes, ma’am.

-No ma’am tonight, Y/N. Until dawn, I’m simply Avis.

-Avis. – it was as if you were rolling her name in your mouth, seeing how it sounded, how it tasted on your lips and tongue, her eyes darting to the way you traced your own lipstick at the sound of it. – A most beautiful name. I can’t wait for it to be the first word I say when the New Year arrives, a name I won’t stop uttering until the very first rays of sunlight break through the sky, hopefully.

Two could play her game, you thought. She was so close to your mouth, she only needed to end the few inches gap that separated you and you would be hers to do as she pleased with, and yet she pulled away, dropping your hand and beginning to walk towards your car, hips swaying in the night. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts and calm your horny self down a little, pulling the keys from your pocket and unlocking the vehicle with shaky fingers. Avis stood on your side of the car, tracing the white top with her hand before walking behind you to round the vehicle and sit in the passenger’s seat. She took the chance though and spanked you as you bent to step inside the vehicle, a surprised yelp escaping your lips as your head wiped to look at her, an innocent expression on her face but a naughty smirk overtaking her eyes. How could you not freaking adore her when she tempted you like this! The action left a delicious sting on your ass that sent a shiver to your core as you sat down and waited for her to settle beside you. If she started behaving like his you would have to end the date earlier than anticipated so you could have your way with her. Engine on and with the car back on the road you followed Avis’s directions, her hand signalling when to turn and what exits to take. You had never been to Mr. Samuel’s residence, not that you could recall anyway and to be honest you wished that the trip wouldn’t have to be under these terms, you would have simply loved to accompany Avis and have a quiet dinner with friends, holding her hand and pecking her cheek as a thank you when she handed you a drink while engaging her friends in conversation. Things that Ace didn’t do with her because he was a fucking idiot.

Through the corner of your eyes, you saw Avis’s knee bouncing up and down, a sign that she was nervous, your right hand shooting to rest over it gently, tapping and rubbing it over her dress in calming motions. You could not take all that nervousness out of her chest, but you could try and make her feel a little bit happier and little bit less stressed. Feeling her hand on top of yours, her warmth seeping under your skin, was a delightful and quiet moment just for the two of you, her fingers playing with your ring, her free hand turning the knob of the radio up a little to hear the music better, humming to the tune. The lyrics were unfamiliar to you, but she seemed to be enjoying herself even if her leg would bounce every once in a while; you weren’t expecting her anxiety to vanish just because. And upon being pointed towards a house, cars parked everywhere with hardly any room to drive or manoeuvre your vehicle into a safe spot, you realised she had not been kidding. Mr. Samuel’s house was by no means small, compared to your tiny ass apartment, but it was small if you took Avis’s place as the standard size for a mansion. People were also everywhere, out on the street, in the garden, on balconies, literally everywhere. You were sure that if you waited for a minute someone would go up on the roof. Turning the car off Avis pulled out a cigarette from her purse, taking a deep drag before puffing the smoke into the cabin, the nicotine in her system calming her nerves a bit more. You waited though, until she was ready to step out, after all, you were doing this at her own pace, throughout the entire night you would be following her cues, never pressing, never asking or doing things she would not enjoy. A minute passed before she stepped out of the car with you in tow, flicking the butt of her cigarette onto the floor, her hand grabbing yours and pulling your body close as she made her way to the front door, smiling at people as they greeted her but never slowing her steps.

If you dropped a pin in that house, over a dozen people would get stabbed before it reached the floor, if it reached the floor. The music was blasting from the record player, people were screaming and laughing loudly, and the filters they would usually have when sober absolutely gone, the smell of alcohol floating in the air along with overwhelming perfumes that made you scrunch your nose. And Avis had to attend this sort of parties all the time? No wonder she drank, there was no way in hell a sober person could stand more than two minutes in there before going nuts. Trying to move in between all these people was a sport in itself, and trying not to bump into people’s drinks or elbows was something impossible to achieve, as you very well realised when you tried to squeeze past two men with Avis pulling on your hand and a random sharp pain had rushed up your back, making you hiss. Avis’s eyes were searching furiously for a head of blond hair belonging to Ellen, but all she could see were fake brunettes and red heads and many bald spots as she walked up a couple of stairs to get a better view and a wider range of heads. This was definitely worse than shopping at Christmas or Thanksgiving, at least you could make it to the door then. A group of over five men walked past you from upstairs, whiskeys in their hands, eyeing you both as if you were dishes on a menu. You glared, not because they were looking at you, you still had your coat on, but because they were looking at Avis, and they were not being discreet or gentlemanly about it. One of them lifted a hand, your eyes watching in slow motion how it rose up in the air and turned, fingers extended, as it went straight for Avis’s ass, though you were quick and grabbed his wrist before it collided.

-Touch her and I’ll rip your fucking hands off.

-Wow, wow, calm down sweetheart. We were just having some fun. – upon the sound of your voice, venom spewing from each word, Avis turned her head to look at you and the men she had not even taken notice of, her eyes on your hand as it still held his wrist right above her buttocks before lifting her gaze to your face. If glares could kill, they would already be dead by the way you were murdering them with your eyes.

-How much fun do you think you could have if I rip your limbs off, eh? Sweetheart.

His smile dropped, muttering “bitch” as he freed his hand from your grip and walked down the stairs with the other four twats following him. What the fuck was wrong with men thinking they could do whatever they pleased with women? It was a tale as old as time, getting catcalled, pushed away from jobs because one happened to have something that wasn’t a dick in between one’s legs, getting called emotional or hysterical when you were just fucking done with all their bullshit. No wonder ladies preferred the company of other ladies, at least if one was being a bitch, there was a good reason for it and not because a man was trying to get his hands under your skirt and you just wanted him to stop. The surprised and yet loving look that Avis was throwing your way caught you off guard, her lips mouthing a “thank you” under all the noise around you, the hand that was still holding onto yours giving a gentle squeeze. Did she think you were going to let anyone, be it a man, a woman or a fucking alien touch her without her consent? No fucking way. You reciprocated and returned the squeeze. A woman’s voice called out Avis’s name, forcing you both to break your gaze and turn to look at the foot of the stairs, Ellen standing there, wringing her hands on her chest. Avis pulled you down with her to meet the other woman, noticing a big red stain in her usual pristine blue suit.

-Thank God you are here. This is madness Avis

-What’s wrong?

-Just look around! I don’t know who half of these people are, and you know I usually don’t mind, but there was a fight not twenty minutes ago and Dick got a bottle smashed on his head! – the usually collected woman was two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack, and maybe, just maybe, you thought, the stain on her jacket might not actually be wine. A shiver of fear ran down your spine, all the anger and lust you had been feeling in the past five minutes jumping out the window. Maybe these sorts of celebrations weren’t you cup of tea after all. -Doesn’t Ace usually hire security for this sort of parties?

-Of course, I gave Dick the list with all the phone numbers.

-Well, either they got murdered in the back and we just haven’t found them, or he did not hire them.

-Alright, alright, calm down Ellen. Where’s Dick?

-In the living room. He’s got a nasty cut on his forehead, but I cleaned it up and bandaged it. Henry was with him the last time I checked, keeping an eye on him.

-Okay, let me talk with him. Y/N, you stay put. Don’t move from here at all, I’ll be back in a few minutes, I promise.

Before you could protest, she had let go of your hand, the crowded room swallowing both her and Ellen. And there you were, alone, standing at the foot of the stairs looking like an idiot with your hands in your coat pockets without knowing a single person around you. They were all glammed up, with expensive suits and gorgeous dresses that you had only seen in magazines everywhere, blinding in the lights of the chandeliers, the ceiling fuzzy under a cloud of smoke from pipes, cigars and cigarettes. Even with the doors wide open the atmosphere inside Mr. Samuel’s house was stifling, almost choking with all the heat and the smells. Without thinking twice, you untied your coat and pushed it off your shoulders, folding it over your left forearm, the relief of not cooking in your sweat a welcome feeling, resting your back against the railing. Whatever song was playing now you could not make it out over the loud conversations, not that you had much chance of trying to as you felt the touch of a hand on your waist and a glass of something transparent right on your face. The drink was being held by a manly hand, so obviously this wasn’t Avis tempting you, and following the arm attached to it you found yourself looking up at Mr. Amberg’s lawyer, Lon Silver. You had never talked with him except for perhaps a few times as you directed him into your boss’s office and the formal greetings that one was supposed to give, but it did not go unnoticed by you how his eyes remained on your chest for a few seconds too long.

-Well, Miss Y/L/N, I wouldn’t have taken you for a party girl. Here, have a drink.

-Good evening, Mr. Silver. I have only accompanied someone, so I will be leaving shortly. Parties are not my thing, sir.

-Drop the formalities, please, it’s New Year’s Eve. Go on, drink, you feel rather tense.

The grip on your waist became uncomfortably hard and rough, the strength he was applying close to being painful, his hand pushing the drink onto yours. People inside your personal bubble was always a big no-no for you, except for Avis, she could do whatever she desired, so having Lon that close to you, his strong aftershave mixing with the alcohol of his breath made all sorts of alerts just go off in your head. Your eyes moved from the glass to his face observing how dark his eyes were along with the smirk on his thin lips, your body taking a step back. That seemed to both anger him and excite him because his smile dropped completely, the glass being pushed into your arms all while his grip on your waist became nearly bruising, still you did not grab the bloody drink. The sound of glass shattering was hardly heard in the crowded hall, but it seemed to echo in your head, reverberating as the drink crashed against the tiles and Lon pushed his body closer, his other hand now holding onto your wrist. It was as if your mind was frozen in place. This was Mr. Amberg’s lawyer, he could destroy you in the blink of an eye, but you did not want him, at all. That fear that had overtaken you not that long ago after hearing Ellen’s words was reaching the panicking peak now, heart racing, blood pumping in your ears.

-Sir, please, let go.

-It’s always the same with you young girls, isn’t it? You dress like this, to draw the eye but when a man looks at you, you all become frigid bitches.

-Mr. Silver, please, you are drunk.

-So what? That hasn’t stopped me from fucking others before.

-Please, stop, let go of me. I’m sure you would not do this sober.

-Wouldn’t I? I would have done unspeakable things to you already if I had had the chance. Which I do now, so don’t be a bitch. We’ll both enjoy it. – his head was in the crook of your neck, smelling you in. You only had two options, you thought, pray that someone would come to the rescue or step on his foot with your stiletto hoping that he would let go and you could run for your life.

-LON! – fate had chosen for you, thank God.

Avis’s voice carried from under the living room threshold with such ease, the redhead having screamed practically at the top of her lungs, startling everyone in the hallway. The man she addressed in particular jumped in his spot, letting your wrist go but not your waist, turning to face the woman. His face was contorted in a fake smile and a sweet greeting.

-Why Avis! Aren’t you supposed to be with Ace? Oh, right, he’d rather spend his time with someone else.

-Oh, Lon, still behaving like a fucking pervert, I see.

Her steps were so hard against the floor that you thought one of her heels could snap at any moment, but you did not care much right now. Your body had sighed with relief upon hearing her, even if you were still in Mr. Silver’s grip and could not wait for her to say something so he would let you go. She was beyond angry, you could see it in the way her body moved, her fists closed, her eyes hard and cold under her eyelashes. Reaching you both she did not hesitate, everyone staring at them, the noise having died down a little, thankfully, and grabbed his crotch with her right hand, nails digging hard into his flesh. He screamed loudly and painfully and dropped both his hands to hold her arm, freeing you, almost as if he thought her capable of ripping his junk off with one quick motion. Thinking about it for a second you thought she could actually do it by how furious she was. Pushing yourself off the railing you rushed her way, standing behind her while rubbing your wrist a bit trying to soothe the red spot that had covered your sensitive skin, body shaking as the adrenaline released into your bloodstream.

-Who the fuck do you think you are?

-Avis, let go!

-Why should I? You did not let go of her, did you? Did you?!

-No! No! Jesus, Avis, let go!

-I’m saying this one time and one time only. – her grip became harder, her knuckles white with the effort, Lon turned into a ball of whimpers and whines of pain as his eyes filled with tears. – If you touch her again, even so much as breath near her again, I’ll blow your dick and balls off with a shotgun.

-Alright! Alright!

-No, I don’t think you get the message. Would you like a demonstration, cause I’m sure I can get my hands on a gun.

-NO! FOR FUCK’S SAKES AVIS, LET GO! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!

Satisfied with the tears that ran down his cheeks she finally let him go, the man dropping to his knees with his hands covering his crotch, whimpering pathetically. He was like a little baby, curled on the floor. Neither you nor Avis felt a touch of sympathy for him and his pain though; he was lucky in fact, she could have done horrible things to him in that hallway if she had had the weapons, and no one would have known what had happened as they were all too drunk to even stand straight. Her hands shot to your cheeks as she turned around, her eyes roaming like crazy all over your body to make sure you were alright, the hatred and fury that had glazed them now completely changed over to concern and worry. It did not go unnoticed the way her eyes lingered on your dress, but she was quick to shake herself out of looking at you with lust, she still needed to assess that that man had not harmed you in any way. This was what she had feared, not him in particular, but anyone who could have seen your pretty face and decided they wanted you for themselves. This time she had got lucky and had intervened right on time before he could have done anything truly horrid to you, but that did not shake the feeling that she had failed you, out of her chest. In your head the only thought that was going around and around was that she had saved you, that the entire ordeal was over and she had saved you, which overtook every feeling of fear that man had imposed on you. After all nothing had happened to you, he didn’t get the chance, and you were not going to let him ruin your and Avis’s night.

-Are you okay? Has he hurt you? You are rubbing your wrist; did he twist it? Do you need a doctor?

-I’m fine, Avis.

-But its red, it probably hurts. – her warm hands moved from your cheeks to your arm, holding your hand gently to inspect the redness that was already vanishing.

-I’m fine, Avis.

-I’m sure there’s a doctor somewhere in here. Let me ask Ellen sh-

-Avis! – she stopped her rambling at the sound of your voice, her eyes locking with yours, her movements still at last. – I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me, my lady in shining armour came to my rescue and made sure of that. I’m fine.

-You are fine?

-I’m fine.

-Alright, I believe you. But at the slightest thing I’m taking you to a doctor.

-If it leaves your mind at ease, I’ll let you drag me all throughout Hollywood.

It was lucky Lon was already on the floor because Dick had stepped out into the hallway searching for Avis, her voice having carried well into the street, and he would have flipped at the sight of her with her hand on Lon’s crotch making him cry. Ellen stopped him from approaching either of you, whispering in his ear while pointing at the ball of flesh on the floor and you two, chuckling silently at the socked expression on his face. What a party, he thought. Avis’s hand was back in yours, fingers intertwined, pulling your body towards the front door all while asking Ellen if there was anything else she needed to do, to which the blond woman answered with a no. She blew a kiss at both of her friends while wishing them a good night and a happy New Year, still walking towards the street, only to stop for an instant when she heard Lon yelling that he was going to end her by telling Ace, at which she did not even bother to turn around. She didn’t need to see his face to answer him.

-Fuck off, Lon.

With Avis beside you now, it was easier to move on from the fear and craziness of the entire situation, laughing after a moment or two, your hot breath turning into translucent steam in the cold air of the night as you let Avis carry on pulling you. Only a few handful of people would remember this party, and it was both a good and a sad thing, but at least you could enjoy the hilarious points of tonight right there and then as you unlocked the door of your car, stepping inside it after throwing your coat on the back seats. God, the look on his face… you should have taken a picture. Avis was surprised at your response, thinking that maybe the adrenaline had overtaken you, and this was your body’s reaction to such a crazy thing. Still, she chuckled lightly before beginning to laugh alongside you as if she had been infected by it, her forehead on your shoulder, both bodies shaking uncontrollably. It was always joyous to hear her laugh, her body relaxed against yours, her voice loud and melodious echoing against the car top in absolute glee. You thought she didn’t get to enjoy herself like this often and she deserved it, even if the motive right now was less than pleasant. Wiping a tear that had gathered at the corner of your eye, you took a few calming breaths trying to stop the nearly continuous chuckles that melted along with Avis’s as she pushed herself against the door. When you finally caught your breath, it was impossible not to smile at the reddish blush that had spread over Avis’s cheeks, neck, and chest, her hair framing her face, complementing it beautifully. Even the light from the streetlamps seemed to be working in her favour tonight, making her eyes shine like rich molten chocolate and her hair like fire against her olive kissed skin skin.

She was doing nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet your body was on fire once more, the last few minutes forgotten in the back of your head. Perhaps it had been the entire act of saving you and the consequences that it had brought upon Lon, maybe it had been the way she had thanked you for protecting her from those jerks. Maybe it was the balance, the union of making sure you were both safe, you could not be sure, but you did know that you wanted her, here and now, and by the way her smile moved from simple relaxation and fun to desire, she had thought the exact same thing. It was not as if the car was a stranger to the two of you fucking in it. But this time it didn’t feel like you were simply lusting after her as you knelt on the seats, crawling towards her until her back was pressed firmly against the car door, your hands resting beside her hips but without touching, you face inches from hers, it was love. Her dress had fallen open as her legs parted to accommodate you, those firm and shapely legs dressed in nude silk that could drive you insane. Your tongue traced and licked her half-ajar lips, feeling her hot breath on your mouth, the carmine like a drug that could drive you wild. Pupils were blown wide, breaths rapid, nearly coming in pants when your hands moved onto her legs, fingering the fabric of the clip on her left thigh, feeling the way her skin rose in goosebumps, a quiet moan escaping Avis’s lips, those utterly desirable lips that were brushing against yours, those lips that had fought for you, threatened for you, pleased you and taken you to the heavens. Those lips that you claimed against yours.

It was rough and messy, but it also held a loving nature that made Avis sigh against your mouth, both your tongues battling for dominance, her teeth scrapping your upper lip. Both her hands had shot to the back of your head to keep you firmly pressed against her, chest against chest. Your hands moved from her stockings to her inner thighs as slowly as you could, drawing out whimpers and whines that were muffled by your kisses, teasing the edge of her knickers. That simple motion made her gasp loudly, one of her hands holding onto your wrist to prevent it from moving away from where she needed it the most. You let her guide you, fingers swiping against the lace feeling how wet she already was. Had her playing saviour turned her on?

Her head fell back against the window as your fingers worked on her through the fabric, whimpering when you removed them completely only to scream an instant later when you pushed the offending garment aside and plunged two fingers deep inside her. As much as you wanted to trail kisses down her exposed neck you did not want to risk staining the dress cherry red, so your lips remained upon hers as your fingers pumped in and out of her, curling to hit that spot. Avis had not had this in mind at all when you had both left the house, but she was not going to complain when you were working her into an orgasm that she could feel building in her core, like a fire that had begun to sparkle and was rapidly growing and blazing. Her hips thrust to meet your movements, your free hand using one of those moments when her hips were up in the air to remove the dress from underneath her, the feeling of the leather under her ass enticing her even further.

The whines and whimpers were growing into pants and moaning gasps. With your thumb you rubbed her clit, the surprised yelp that escaped her throat swallowed by your lips, the speed of your fingers never faltering. She was mumbling in your mouth, but you could not make out her words, not that you needed to, her body was signalling that she was close with the way her walls were clenching around your fingers. After giving her clit a hard rub her orgasm overtook her, catching you both off guard, her head lulled back as her back arched off the door forcing your kiss to end as her voice rose in high pitched gasps. Even in this cloud of pleasure, she was trying so hard not to scream your name at the top of her lungs, there were too many people that would be able to hear her, her juices all over your fingers, walls and thighs trembling, her hands grabbing onto your shoulders for dear life. You slowed the pace of your fingers, rubbing her calf with your other hand to bring her gently down from her high, her body slumping against the car door after a moment, her breasts nearly spilling out of her dress as her breaths returned slowly to normal. Her eyes were closed as if she could savour the pleasure you had given her for a bit longer like that, opening them when she felt you pull your fingers out. She watched mesmerized how you took a handkerchief out of your purse to clean her up as gently as you could, her body twitching whenever you brushed her swollen clit, returning her underwear to its initial position once you were satisfied with your work. Bending forward you gave her inner thighs a gentle peck before sitting back on your knees.

-What was that for? – her voice was quiet, a lazy smile on her lips, fingers playing with the chain around your neck basking in the afterglow.

-For saving me, for being my lady in shining armour, for nearly ripping Mr. Silver’s balls off… For simply being you, Avis.

-For being me? You know you don’t have to do this every time I do something for you.

-Trust me, it was no effort on my part besides, it is my most sincere opinion that you should always be shown just how wonderful and perfect you are.

-I like that you seem to not be bothered by my many faults. Ace would have gone insane had he seen what I did to his precious lawyer.

-Good thing I’m not Ace. I know when I have the most extraordinary woman in front of me, and instead of taking her for granted, I take her to dinner. If you still want to.

-Of course! You worked too hard for this; I won’t let my own lust and desire ruin your plans. This orgasm can last me until midnight, so surprise me Y/N, take me wherever you want.

-To the Heavens then.

-Oh, you soppy girl.

-No, the restaurant is called the Heavens, I swear.

It was stupid, an absolute nonsense that made you both laugh, a little quieter this time. This is how you wanted to spend every minute of your life, with her, not a worry in the world. Avis moved to sit properly on the passenger seat, draping her skirt back over her legs and pulling a cigarette out as you settled yourself behind the wheel. The ride was completely different this time. The air around you was calm, relaxed, and contented, the tune on the radio suddenly a song you knew like the back of your hand, humming quietly as Avis began to sing. You had never known she possessed such a beautiful voice, sweet as honey, gentle like a breeze with a pitch so perfect you wondered if she had ever done anything that wasn’t simply perfect in her entire life. It was outstanding, to say the least. 

Your breath hitched in your lungs at her words, stunned by the emotion that dripped in between the music, her hand searching for yours where it laid beside you on your seat, intertwining your fingers. She didn’t need you to tell her how you felt, she knew, in everything you did, in every glance, every smile, every kiss, and every word that left your lips. Singing her feelings to you was the best way for her to let you know how she felt, that in her life Ace was the other woman. This was what the meaning of the word happy meant to you, what it had brought to your bleak and monotone life, and dressed it in colourful clothes and astonishing sunsets.

Time after time

I tell myself that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

Many nights you had dreamt of that, opening the door to your apartment to find her curled up on the couch, waiting for you. You hadn’t wanted her to spend the evenings alone in that big house, you had wanted to be beside her, no matter what people thought. The lights of the side streets weren’t as bright as the main avenue, but that gentle hue seemed to agree with Avis, watching her sway her head at the beat of the music, her eyes closed. How could light play such games that with a full moon over your heads its glow always bathed her at the perfect angle making you melt in your seat. She looked like she belonged in a movie, her body gently bent over a balcony railing letting the moon wash over her as her love serenated her.

So lucky to be

The one you run to see in the evening

When the day is through

I only know what I know

The passing years will show

You've kept my love so young, so new

You had parked in front of a colourful restaurant, nearly hitting the trunk of a blue Lincoln that was stationed in front of you as your eyes had been bewitched by Avis, loud voices surrounding the car from the people that were either leaving or going into the restaurant, but they were nothing but background noise to you. Avis’s eyes locked with yours, you seemed to be doing that a lot tonight, singing the words directly at you, never blinking. Your heart fluttered in your chest, once more her mouth telling you that she was so lucky to be loving you, her voice dropping from singing to speaking the last line, stating a fact. And your greedy heart accepted it because to you the meaning of happy was Avis. The rest of the song went by in silence, both of you lost in each other so deep that the world could have vanished around you, and you wouldn’t have taken notice, your lips pecking hers, foreheads pressed together. If time could be stopped, you would have done so right there and then never wanting to move on from this. The next song on the radio was a cheerful Christmas song, but the change in tune did not break the spell, it only seemed to enhance the joy of the moment as you turned the engine off and stepped out, pulling her towards you into the street.

And time after time

You'll hear me say that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

The atmosphere was contagious, people singing off-key and dancing clumsily over the pavement. Pulling Avis against your chest you joined in the simple bliss of the moment, swaying from side to side with one hand on her waist while the other held onto hers, twirling among the people. It made her laugh, following your steps that seemed to be getting closer to the restaurant door, an older couple clapping as you twirled Avis under your arm before pressing her against you, dipping her. Her laughter only became louder, gleeful, with her body arched towards the floor, her precious red waves falling free. Returning her to her feet as she caught her breath, she let you guide her and open the door so she could go in first. What a lady you were. She was taken aback by how beautiful that place was, the entrance hall covered in frescos that reminded her of the Sistine Chapel, a gorgeous semicircular arch in white marble dividing the entryway from the dining room, the lights dim but not so much that one wouldn’t be able to see where they were going, adding to the mystical atmosphere. A young man approached her dressed in a black suit with a name tag on his lapel, greeting her kindly and asking if she had made a reservation. Avis nodded, turning her head in your direction as you let the door close, stepping inside the restaurant. The man’s eyes suddenly shone in recognition, greeting you excitedly, smiling down at Avis so she would not feel pushed aside or left out.

-Y/N! We were all worried you weren’t coming!

-Hello, Marco. We got caught up in something, but we are here now. How is your father?

-You know, in the kitchen. He’s been asking me for the last hour if you had arrived.

-You can tell him now that I’m here, and that I’ve said to leave you alone. – Avis watched the exchange with curiosity, the boy’s English good but with a very thick Italian accent, his hands gesturing as if they had strings and were being controlled by an external force. There was a comforting glow on your face at the sight of the boy, as if you had been lifelong friends, perhaps as if he were a brother. Your eyes drifted towards her, taking her hand and placing it in the crook of your arm, smiling sweetly at her. - Oh, Marco, this is Avis Amberg, my dinner guest for tonight.

-Pleased to meet you, Signoria Amberg. Y/N has spoken so much about you.

-Good things, I hope.

-Of course! She’s taken with you. Please, follow me.

She had never been to this restaurant before, but it had clearly been there for a while now, the dining room absolutely filled up with people. The walls were covered in stained glass windows, the ceiling decorated with gorgeous chandeliers, the floor made out of white marble as pictures and paintings of beautiful landscapes dressed the empty spots on the walls. It had a wonderful homely touch in every detail, names carved on the pillars that were disguised as columns, like something one would find inside temples, old photographs of people that were clearly simple folk from somewhere outside glamorous Hollywood in every corner. The conversations were loud and buzzing with excitement, children laughing and playing, old couples holding hands, smiling at each other. This place was so different from those fancy places that she frequented with Dick and Ellen or that she would take producers and actors to butter them up. This place was wholesome, it had a history seeping through every crack and corner, and Avis could not think of a better place for her to be than here with you. Marco guided you both through tables, speaking with some of the guests in Italian, switching to English as he addressed others, the gentle sound of music in the background in a mix of songs from both countries that pleased the guests. Coming to a hallway he opened a black door showing a spacious room with a table in the back, in front of a huge stained glass window.

-Here you are Signoria Amberg. Y/N – he bowed his head before closing the door, leaving you alone. Avis was shocked not only because the room was even more beautiful than she could have imagined, walls dressed in white wood, the ceiling filled with images of fields of lemons and olive trees painted al fresco, but because she knew how hard and how much this sort of rooms cost.

-A private booth? Y/N, this must have cost you a fortune, I would have been alright with a table in the main dining room.

-I know, but Marco’s father never gives me one. This room is my room whenever I come here, so he doesn’t actually make me pay for it. “It is yours until I die,” he says to me, so I’ve stopped fighting.

-How long have you known these people? You seem like part of the family. – she was looking around the room, her hands tracing the shapes of the columns, feeling the warmth of the tinted wood under her fingertips. She clearly liked the place, the lump that had formed in your throat when she had first stepped inside the restaurant vanishing. You had been worried there for a moment that she would not like it and would ask you to take her somewhere else, but her eyes shone with excitement and her frame relaxed, so there was nothing to worry about in the end.

-Well, when I came to Hollywood a few good years ago I came across Marco who needed help with the restaurant as they were building it, so I offered a helping hand. I’ve been a part of the family ever since. It’s not an exciting story I’m afraid.

-Not every story needs to be exciting to be good, don’t you think? You were alone and now you have them… and me. That’s the best story in my opinion.

-Bimba! – the doors practically flew off their hinges at the force the man standing under the threshold used, his frame tall and big frame, rounded stomach, and hairy face filling up the room, that deep rambling voice tainted with a thick Italian accent, just like his son, bouncing off the walls. It startled you both, Avis practically jumping on the spot, a graceful hand on her chest.

-Jesus, Giuseppe, you nearly killed me there.

-Ah, nonsense! It’s good to see you again, you have been away for too long.

-I came by three days ago!

-As I said, too long. Ah, who is this bellissima signoria? – in two big strides he was towering over Avis, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, a gentle blush spreading over her cheeks at the gesture. If this weren’t the two people you knew the most in the world, you would be jealous, but Avis would never leave you for him and he would never leave his wife for Avis, of that you were sure, still you glided to her side, placing your hands on her shoulder to look up at the big man.

-This is Avis Amberg.

-She is the woman you never shut up about?

-Giuseppe!

-What? It is you who talks about her, not me. So, Avis, may I call you Avis, nah, I will call you Avis, how do you like our Y/N?

-Giuseppe, please. – Avis thrived in the way you hid your face in the crook of her neck as if you could run away from the embarrassing conversation, both your bodies shaking lightly with Avis’s laughter. God, she wished she could see you, you would probably be the most delectable shade of red.

-Since you asked, I like her very much Mr…

-Call me Giuseppe. So, you like her, and she likes you… Ahhh, l’amore. So beautiful. When I met my Teresa, I thought she was horrible. She had a temper that could make her fight in a war, but when I talked with her, I knew I wanted her to be yelling at me forever. So, I married her. Now you have found your Teresa, Y/N, and I hope she yells at you exactly like you dreamed she would.

You didn’t quite want Avis to yell at you, more along the lines of you making her scream, but in a way he was right. You had found the woman of your dreams, you just had to make sure her husband never found out. Lifting your head from Avis’s shoulder, the orange blossom aroma of her hair filling your lungs, making you feel all warm and fuzzy, Giuseppe caressed your cheek with his big hand. He was a second father to you and his main project in life was to make sure all his kids were happy, including you, and although he did not understand in full why you would prefer a woman over a man, he could see the light in your eyes, the pink on your cheeks, how your days had moved from repetitive boring documents to finding a purpose. But what he could see most of all was that this older woman that you had in your arms shared that same light. Two perfect halves that had found each other, complementing the other, seeing the angles that the other person couldn’t, protecting and loving each other without a doubt, without expectations. He patted Avis’s hand gently before guiding you both to the table, pushing the chair to let the older woman sit first before moving on to yours, two menus already waiting on top of the table. He made his excuses to allow you to look at the dishes, closing the door and leaving you alone once more.

-He’s quite something.

-He’s passionate. He wanted to be a painter, a writer, an actor, anything and everything, so he feels things quite deeply. He did not offend you, did he?

-No, not at all. One would think that living surrounded by actors you should be used to this sort of thing, the passion, the art, but no. They are superficial boring people, most of them anyway. This Giuseppe has the heart of an artist, the emotions. It is a change from parrots that vomit scripts in front of a camera. – her eyes drifted onto the menus in her hands, looking at all the wonderful dishes that were written. - So why is he a chef?

-Because of his Teresa. She taught him all the things his mother could not, and he learnt, quite fast.

-Because he loves her.

-How could he not? She came into his life when he was down, broken, tired and bored of doing nothing with his life and she brought him spice, and sex, and happiness and how could anyone say no to the person that changes them for the better? How could he say no to his Teresa? How could I say no to you?

Her heart did not leap, it somersaulted, in her chest upon hearing your words, unsure if the first part was how you had felt before she had walked into your life or if it was indeed how the man had felt. It was true on both accounts. Her eyes drifted to look at you over the menu, seeing that you were looking back at her, the moment still in time. Avis had cried for too long about her life, her marriage, about how alone she felt as if she were just an accessory to Ace’s life destined to do nothing, be nothing. But suddenly you were there, and all that pain and hurt from the past decade or so had vanished into nothing, care and love blooming, feeling like she mattered for the first time in her life, and all the credit was yours to take. You had picked up her pieces and instead of gluing them together temporarily like Ernie had been doing for years, you were actively fixing her. There was no transaction, no contract to be fulfilled, no promotions or brand-new careers to begin, it was just little you giving little Avis what her heart needed the most.

Marco came back a couple of minutes later to take note of your drinks, informing you that the kitchen would stop serving warm dishes thirty minutes before midnight. Checking the clock on the wall you saw that it was fifteen minutes away from eleven thirty, so hurriedly you took Avis’s menu and began pointing at dishes telling her which ones were good and which ones were a little bit less good, earning a chuckle from Marco, making mental notes whenever she said that she didn’t like an ingredient for future dates. In the end, you settled on a two-person parmigiana di melanzane, a side of ruschette, which Giuseppe knew you adored, Eggs in Purgatory, and a bowl of chicken pastina. It was a lot of food, you knew, but there were just so many things you wanted her to try, so perhaps you had gone a little bit overboard, not that whatever was left would go to waste, no, Teresa would wrap it for you so you could take it home, maybe even make some extra bits here and there so Avis could take them home as well. True that she was nearly their age, but Teresa was a mother to everyone, be it a three-year-old or a fifty-year-old, and leftovers were leftovers in Hollywood and Italy. Marco wrote it all down before excusing himself, the sounds of the main dining room seeping into your booth for a moment before it all turned silent again. An idea popped into your head. Standing from your chair you made your way to the left corner of the room, next to the door, where a record player rested on top of a small table along with a box filled with vinyls. Avis rested against the back of her chair, lower lip in between her teeth, one leg crossed over the other allowing her knees to peek through the opening of her dress as she observed you flick through the disks, your curvaceous body moving gently, pulling one out after a minute.

She did not quite catch the title of the album, not that she was paying much attention when there was so much of your skin exposed for her to feast on, her eyes raking and drinking in every inch of flesh, waiting for you to finish settling the disk, placing the needle on top and turning the machine on. There was only the sound of the needle scratching over the vinyl for a moment before the soft chords of an acoustic guitar began to play. Of course you would choose a love song, you just couldn’t help yourself, but she did not mind at all, she hadn’t felt like a lovesick teenager in far too long and how could she ever be mad at you when you were walking towards her with you palm extended asking her to dance. She took it without hesitation, letting her body be pulled towards yours, her hands resting over your shoulders while she felt the warmth of your palms around her waist. The song was quiet, gentle in its tones making the words the centre of attention, a confession that was so close to slipping out of your lips, right at the tip of your tongue. You began to sway slowly, your feet not moving from the spot in the middle of the room, a place just for the two of you, no Ace, no studio, no Ellen or Lon, just Avis and you. You had both danced many times in your life, but nothing could compare to this private moment.

-I have not told you yet, but you look beautiful. That dress looks exquisite on you.

-Did you forget to compliment me and are trying to fix it before midnight? It’s alright if you did, we’ve had a hectic night.

-I did not, I was too in awe of you that I could not find the words. Saying that you look beautiful feels like such a weak compliment, perhaps I should say that you look bewitching, stunning, divine… I could go on you know.

-I wouldn’t mind if you did. – you just couldn’t get enough of her, be it her perfume, her gorgeous red lips, the way she looked at you with those big brown eyes of hers that made your legs grow weak. You would never understand how her husband did not fall to his knees every time she set foot in a room, it was madness. - It would be a change from only complimenting me when I’m in my underwear.

-As if you don’t do the same.

-No, I compliment you when you are not in your underwear, it’s different.

-And would you want me in nothing but my pearls if we were somewhere else? A chance to make sure I’m not in my underwear?

In the light of the chandelier, you could see how her pupils were blown wide, nearly overtaking the brown of her irises, the grip she had on your shoulders harder than before, her short nails scraping the nape of your neck. A quiet groan slipped out of your lips at the feeling, goosebumps all over your skin, her lips brushing yours but never truly kissing, the music still guiding you both around the room. The grip on her waist was harder, fingering the fabric, surprised that you could actually feel the lace of her corselette through the silk of her gown. God, you wanted her so bad, but it would be far too inappropriate to take her on top of the table when anyone could come in and call you out on your behaviour, you would just need to wait. Not that this foreplay was a bad thing, your eyes counting all the freckles that were exposed on her chest, licking your lips as the swells of her breasts rose and fell. Avis’s head was spinning, your berries shower gel powerful enough that she could almost taste it on her tongue along with your cherry lipstick, your long neck so tempting. She could bend and leave her mark right on your collarbone, make sure everyone knew you were hers, but she could not subject you to a reprimand from these lovely people you had learnt to love as family. She would have to wait.

The next song came, filling the space with violins that echoed off the walls, allowing you to take her hands from your shoulders so you could actually twirl her around the room, her skirt swaying in fluid motions around both your legs. You were quite the dancer she realised, feeling her body follow your cues with such ease, not bothering to stop when the door opened and in came Marco with Avis’s martini and your French 75. If he had wanted to comment, he had thought better than to actually say whatever had crossed his mind, keeping his lips tight and slipping out of the room as quietly as he could, not before letting his eyes linger as you spun Avis around, pressing her back against your chest, her hair flying around her like the fire she could make you feel with just a look of her adoring eyes. It was utterly delightful to have this woman that you had never in a million years thought would even look your way, in your arms absolutely relaxed. A moment later Marco came back with the bowl of pastina and the Eggs in Purgatory, assuring you the main course would be out soon along with the bruschette, your eyes twinkling at the sound of that. You hadn’t realised how famished you were until the delicious smell of tomato sauce and chicken broth filled the room, Avis’s stomach growling right on cue. She chuckled, placing a hand on her abdomen as you guided her to the table, the music still playing in the background.

It looked delicious and tasted even better once you had both settled on your chairs, napkins on your laps, forks digging in the eggs. Avis moaned loudly as she took the first bite, her eyes closed and her head lulled back, triggering an utterly indecent response in your body, your knickers pooling at the sight. How could everything this woman did be so positively sexy, no matter what it was, it was an entire research you were willing to perform yourself, no help needed. You imagined a drop of sauce falling right on top of her breast, your tongue aiming to please as you licked it off her skin, several times, to make sure she was perfectly clean, pushing the top of her dress down to reveal that she was indeed wearing nothing, a dream to think she could ever do that. Your thighs pressed together, shaking your head to try and vanish the image so could enjoy the food before Avis had it all. And the eggs were indeed delicious, the acidity of the sauce and the sharp flavour of the garlic mixing with the softness of the egg. By George, Teresa was an angel in the kitchen. In only a few minutes both plates were cleared, though you did not eat much, Avis’s moans were far too distracting, perhaps it was all a ploy so she could actually eat the whole thing while also working you up, killing two birds with one stone. Breaking your gaze from how she was now cleaning up around her mouth with her middle finger, you glanced at the clock. Only twenty minutes until midnight. This time it was Giuseppe who came in around five minutes later with the parmigiana, placing a tray with several bruschette in front of you along with a big ball of mozzarella dressed in olive oil and some basil and salt, giving you a kiss on top of your head. His deep voice spoke to Avis -Buon appetite- before bowing his head, slipping back into the kitchen. You picked up your drink, tasting the gin on your tongue with your eyes on her as she took in the food.

-How was the pastina, Avis? I think I only got to smell it.

-Ha ha, very funny. Do you want us to divide this meal?

-And miss hearing you enjoy them because I’m too busy eating? I don’t think so. Here, try this, I’m sure you have never had anything this good in your life.

The mozzarella dripped beautifully on the plate as you sliced it open, the cream inside the perfect consistency. Picking up a bruschetta from your plate, returning a fallen tomato to the top, you picked some of the mozzarella with a spoon, draping it over the bread before bending over the table with one hand under it to catch any crumbs. Avis bend slightly to meet you in the middle, opening her mouth and taking a bite, her eyes never leaving yours, her lips touching your fingers before she pulled away tasting your creation. The moan that she produced was loud and sensual, like the ones she had made when you had been in the car, her finger picking up a fallen drop of the cheese over her lips, licking the tip without breaking eye contact. The room was stifling now, her hand grabbing your wrist so she could take another bite of the bread, her tongue wrapping around your fingers to lick them clean. She sat back against her chair basking in the way she had you wrapped around her little finger without having done so much as to use her mouth, something that she was very good at judging by your reactions. Picking up your drink you downed it in one go needing to lubricate your throat, the cracked ice cooling your body a little, but only a little.

As much as she was enjoying tempting and driving you mad like this, she wanted you to eat, so she picked up some of the Parmigiana and placed it on your plate before serving herself. Taking her cue, you dived in, the aubergines perfectly cooked, the melted cheese making a beautiful pull as you took a bite, needing to use the fork to break the string. Her exquisite palate had tasted the best champagne, the most expensive caviars, imported meats, and exotic fruits and yet the meal presented to her tonight was the best of them all. It was homemade with love, with care, and maybe the products didn’t cost a fortune, but they were still good, perhaps grown by Giuseppe and his wife. Next time she had to plan a lunch date with Ellen, she would bring her here. You ate calmly, engaging Avis in conversation every so often though the silence that sometimes filled the room was never deafening nor uncomfortable, the music still playing in the background. With the table now filled with empty plates and both your stomachs satisfied there was nothing else to do but wait; only five minutes left until midnight.

-So, what was wrong with Ellen? We got caught up and I never really asked.

-It was pure miscommunication. – she brought the martini to her lips, leaving a red mark on the rim. - Ace usually hires extra security when we do parties at the house, so when I gave Dick the list of phone numbers, the company we usually use was there. Well, Dick did phone them, but they got confused and ended up not writing the address, so when the time came to send the guys down there was nowhere for them to go.

-And didn’t they call to ask where the party was?

-They say that they did but I’m not sure. Dick says that the phone hasn’t rang all afternoon. Anyway, I gave them the address and told them to get their asses over to Dick’s place immediately or we would go without their services in the future.

-But why was Ellen so distraught?

-Didn’t you see the bandage on Dick’s head? The woman was a minute away from needing an ambulance after the fight happened. It’s a miracle she didn’t call the police.  But everything’s alright now, I hope.

-If it isn’t they will have to fend for themselves, because I didn’t tell anyone where I was taking you.

-I’ll drink to that.

The rest of the martini went down her throat, the glass on the table just as Marco came back with an empty tray. Avis was the one to talk with him this time, telling him that the food was magnificent, to give her most sincere congratulations to the cooks as he picked up plates, staking them along with the empty glasses, a gentle blush on his cheeks as he thanked the woman. It wasn’t as if Avis had any trouble communicating with people, her charisma and outgoing personality helped her in that department, but it warmed your heart to see that she was trying her best to connect with your adopted family. None of the boyfriends or girlfriends you had brought here had even bothered to talk with them, probably one of the main reasons you had sent them packing. You didn’t even get the chance to open your mouth though before Giuseppe burst in with a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and two bowls. He was talking a mile a minute, mixing Italian and English in a gibberish that neither of you understood, but he was excited and didn’t care, a short woman with deep emerald eyes and dark hair popping her head through the doors calling for him. She blew you a kiss before pulling her husband out the door, Avis observing with an amused expression how you laughed as you said hi to Teresa. She understood the reason behind the champagne, but she missed why there were two bowls of grapes on the table.

-Y/N, honey, what’s with the grapes? I thought the usual Italian dessert was tiramisu.

-It is, one of many, anyway. No, the grapes are a tradition from my home. – she sat a little bit straighter on the chair, resting her head on her hand while listening intensely to your explanation, her big eyes taking in every word that left your lips. – In the last twelve seconds of the years you are supposed to eat twelve grapes.

-Isn’t that a bit of a choking hazard?

-Yes, but it’s much more fun than it sounds. Eating them all before the New Year arrives its supposed to bring good luck, but now it’s more of a fun game. You just look around and see who’s laughing even before they’ve started eating, who goes hysterical with a mouthful of them, who’s like in a corner eating them without a single emotion in their system, you know, just have fun with your friends and family eating twelve grapes. Some people are pros and finish the bowl way before the twelve seconds are over and then there’s the people who watch that laugh after the New Year has arrived.

-I had never heard of such a thing. I’ve been to so many places and I’ve never bothered with anything that wasn’t boutiques or fancy restaurants. We really do have our heads up in our own asses, don’t we?

-I wouldn’t say that. You are a woman of the world, but I don’t expect you to know everything about every single place you’ve been to, and I know there’s so much I don’t know about your home, Avis but you don’t punish me for it. There’s plenty of time to learn. What I do hope is that you’ll share this tradition with me. I promise the grapes are small.

-Anything for you, honey. And if I do choke, I’ll have you to resuscitate me. Come over here, let me see if you know how to do mouth-to-mouth.

Who were you to deny her proof? Standing from your chair you rounded the table until your body was towering over hers, bending so that your hands were resting on the chair, your mouth inches from hers. Finally, she rose a little from her seat to meet your lips, relief washing over your body like a wave, allowing you to relax in her grip as her hands rested on your hips, drawing you to sit on her lap. Upon feeling her teeth nibbling on your lower lip you opened your mouth, granting her the access she desired. Both tongues battled against each other, yours more lazily than hers, after all, she was the one who thrived in having control over you. Slipping from the top of the chair your hands threaded in between her soft locks, pulling gently. She groaned in your mouth, the grip on your hips harder, pushing you closer to her. Parting after a moment, lungs screaming for air, you heard the commotion outside the room growing bigger, Avis’s eyes looking at the clock over your shoulder. A minute she whispered in your ear. Plenty of time for you to share another kiss you thought, drawing her face back to yours for a few more seconds, tracing her lips with your tongue, removing what little she had left of her carmine.

Not moving from your spot in her lap after breaking the kiss you handed her a bowl before picking up yours, eyes glued to the clock. Thirty seconds. Your heart was racing in your chest with excitement, just like when you had been a kid, waiting with trembling fingers. Twenty seconds. Avis could not help the smile that painted her swollen lips at your enthusiasm, watching as you did a quiet countdown. Fifteen seconds. You picked up the first grape, motioning for Avis to do the same. Fourteen, thirteen, twelve! You popped the first one in, then another, and another, all while chewing as fast as your jaw would allow, eyes focused on the bowl otherwise you would start laughing. Four more grapes went down the gullet but there were still a few seconds left; you could make it. Another one in, and another one and you were practically swallowing them whole, but you were almost there, just three grapes left. Just when you had finished chewing and swallowing the last one the clock struck twelve, howls filling the air around you. With the brightest smile in the world, you tilted your bowl to show Avis only to be made a fool when she showed you hers, lifting the hand that had been on your hip with four fingers stretched.

-Avis! Four seconds to spare?!

-What can I say, I’m a pro.

-Next time I’ll get the big ones.

-And you think I haven’t had anything bigger in my mouth? – God, she really knew what to say to turn you on even further, the fire that had been growing steadily all night practically blazing. - Now my turn for a tradition, American style. -Her lips crashed against yours, her hand on your back pressing you impossibly close to her body. The kiss was bruising but oh so erotic and delightful and you never wanted it to end, but there was a toast still waiting and in that joyous moment when everything was perfect you wondered what she would taste like after having had a glass of champagne.  After a few instants Avis broke the kiss, panting slightly. – Happy New Year Y/N.

-Happy New Year, Avis.

Hurriedly you stood from her lap, pulling her to her feet as you picked up the bottle Giuseppe had left, rubbing the cork before turning to look away from her, a loud pop reverberating along with the record player that was still working, foam and the sparkling liquid pouring out onto the floor due to the pressure of the gas. Avis had both glasses in her hand waiting for you to pour the drinks, watching the foam fill it up and spill slightly, handing you your glass once you had returned the bottle back to the table. Crystals clinked, bringing it up to taste the delicious liquid on your tongue, bubbling up your nose and down your throat. Now was the moment. Once Avis had swallowed her sip you grabbed her by the neck and pulled her down for another kiss, a surprised yelp that soon turned into a quiet moan muffled by your lips as you pushed your tongue inside her mouth without a fight. She was utterly delicious after drinking champagne. The spell was broken by the sound of fireworks, a gleeful look on Avis’s face as she broke the kiss, pulling you out of the room and into the street, the glasses still in your hands. It was beautiful. The night sky was filled with colourful forms and sparkly rainbows, flying over everyone’s heads every second. Both your gazes were glued to the firmament up above, but that did not stop you from taking her hand in yours, fingers interviewed as the sky filled up with golden glows. Nothing had ever been more perfect, nothing would ever be more special, her eyes travelling down to yours watching in the reflection the blue glittery traces that crossed the sky. She had waited enough, and dessert was due. She moved her head to the crook of your neck, her lungs filling up with the gentle traces of your floral perfume, whispering in your ear for only you to hear.

-Take me home and make me feel like a thousand stars. Fill my life with fireworks Y/N.

Her tone sounded almost as if she was pleading, a pang of sadness stabbing your heart, watching how her eyes were filled with both an imperious need for you and a softness that spoke to you in so many levels. Walking backwards into the restaurant, the sky still painted by the colourful display, you did not have to use any kind of force to guide her back to the private booth, the restaurant empty as everyone was out on the street. The record had ended by then, the only sound inside the room being the needle as it scratched over the vinyl, but that was superfluous to you, every ounce of your attention was on Avis. She took on last sip of her champagne, leaving it on the table next to yours, her stole draped over her shoulder and her purse in her empty hand. Your eyes were locked never wanting to break contact, never wanting to stray. You wished to lift her in your arms and leave everything behind, take her to the ends of the world and love her for all eternity, but life was nothing like one’s dreams and yet this moment felt just like one. You pulled out a fifty and left it on the table, thinking that you would not get to see Giuseppe or any of the others before leaving, but just as you were crossing the main dining room Teresa called your name. You turned, but the woman did not ask you to join them for drinks or to wait a bit longer before leaving, she simply approached you, kissed you on the cheek and wished you and Avis a happy New Year, handing the older woman a brown package. There was something in the way Teresa was looking at the two of you that made you think that perhaps it wasn’t so bad to take that leap of faith you had been so scared of, that it was worth taking this risk, to fall in love at last.

You promised to visit soon, telling her that the dinner was marvellous, like always and that it was paid before blowing her a kiss as you still pulled Avis out the door. Getting to the car was no effort, it was as if fate was guiding your every action and aiding you in reaching the final goal, slipping into the drivers sit. People were all around you, but you needed her to know that her every wish was your command and so you twisted your body to meet her lips, a hand resting on her cheek. She melted under your touch, under your kiss, feeling every emotion that you had promised to tell her passing from your lips to hers. She felt renewed with energy, love and lust and everything in between bursting from every pore of her body, not wanting to separate from you, but it had to happen, your body returning to its original position before you turned the engine on. You had considered for an instant taking her to your place, but you had left things everywhere and you did not want to have to tidy up before taking her to your bed, not unless you wanted her to grow cold on you, so you swerved into a side street and drove back to her place. She was confused at first, but upon seeing the determination that had glazed over your eyes, she sat back and relaxed letting you do what you had to do. The gates were closed but not locked, upon Avis’s order, but with a gentle jab from the hood of your car they shrieked and opened, not a soul in sight as you parked right next to Avis’s black Cadillac.

It felt quite familiar to step out of the car and meet over the stone path that led to her front door, but everything about this time was different. There was no hurry, no element of surprise that could interrupt and end it all, it was just you and Avis under the front porch, her hand in yours. The cold air of the night was raising goosebumps on your skin, a shiver shaking your frame, but you did not falter in your stand, taking her hand and placing it on your cheek, kissing her palm. Had this been twenty years ago Avis would have stood under the tiny porch light kissing you before you had to turn and leave her behind, thinking about how she would have had to go to bed alone in that big empty dark house, but it wasn’t the 20s and it wasn’t a random scenario in her head. She could kiss you still under the tiny porch light, gentle nibbles and pecks making her melt against your body, her hands snaking round your neck to keep you in place. She could moan in your mouth as your hands travelled from the shape of her waist down to her hips and then her firm ass to pull her closer to you. And after the kisses ended and you were left standing there panting and incensed, you wouldn’t have to go away, she opened those big doors and pulled you inside. The house was warm and quiet and so very dark, only a few rays on moonlight breaking through closed curtains. Avis knew her home like the back of her hand and she guided you slowly to the staircase, walking upstairs with her hand in yours.

She stopped in the middle of it though when she felt your hands around her waist. She trusted you to not let her fall as she let her weight press against your chest, your head in the crook of her neck. She smelled delicious and you could not help it, you run your tongue the length of her neck up until you meet her ear, kissing the spot behind, your teeth gracing her earlobe. With one hand on the railing for support the other went to the back of your head feeling the curls and pins under her palm, a quiet moan echoing in the dark room as you pulled gently on her ear. She tasted divine, that saltiness that was so her mixing with the champagne from your drink. Her eyes were closed taking in every sensation that you were giving her as your hands teased her breasts through the silk, finger on the hem of the neckline. The way every single peck and caress set her alight was beyond her comprehension, her heartbeats a little bit elevated against her ribcage, her knickers getting wetter by the minute, but there was no rush, she could take far more than what you were giving her; she wanted to burn in your arms. She moved her head to the side, scratching her nails on your scalp, to grant you a better access, a gasp falling from her lips when she felt you tongue licking down her neck and the junction with the shoulder, following the same path back up until your lips curled and sucked on her pulse point.

Her hips buckled to meet yours, her round firm ass pressed against your pelvis, earning a grunt that became muffled by her skin. As much as you were both loving this there was a growing need to reach the bedroom, so much to your dismay Avis pulled herself from your grip, not before turning and taking both your hands. Walking backwards was hard but walking up the stairs all while in the dark was ever more difficult and yet Avis pulled it off beautifully, reaching the landing without tripping not even once. Her eyes had never left yours even if among the shadows there was very little chance of her seeing just how dilated your pupils were, how they were burning with a fire that only she could put out.  The door to her bedroom was just there, not more than three feet from you, but it felt as if you had gone without feeling her for far too long and so you pressed her against the wall, claiming her lips in a bruising kiss. You sucked on her lower lip never growing tired of hearing the way her throat vibrated and her body shook ever so slightly as moans travelled through her open mouth for to swallow, chest pressed against chest, your right hand grabbing and pulling her leg upwards, free from her gown. The lacy hem of her stockings was an obstacle for you, that delectable skin of hers hidden underneath but that did not stop you from fingering the clip that kept it in place before grabbing the back of her thigh to grind against her pelvis. Her response was a curse, the fabric of her knickers drenched in between her legs, but you did not let up, watching as her head lulled back against the wall, her entire frame bobbing up and down as you moved.

She wanted you, needed you to fill her up, to touch her and eat her and love her and make her scream so loud she wouldn’t be able to speak for three days, but the movements that you were doing were just not fully cutting it for her, as sublime as they were. This time though she did not have to push you away, you lifted her off the floor, her legs wrapping around your waist as her arms did the same around your neck, giving a surprised yelp. She had not considered that you could be so strong, carrying her through the threshold of her bedroom, your foot closing the door, her lips pecking every inch of skin she could find around your face, avoiding your lips should she make you lose your grip on her. Your brain was telling you to throw her on the bed and take her, no time to remove clothes, but you let your heart guide you on this, gently placing her over the covers, pecking her lips before stepping back. All the air in your lung vanished as you took in the scene before you. The curtains weren’t drawn letting the silvery beams of moonlight bathe the woman before you with its pearly glows, her olive kissed skin seeming like porcelain under its touch, every freckle, wrinkle and beauty mark glowing like beacons that were calling you home. Her dark fiery locks were untamed, dishevelled from where you had threaded your fingers, framing her as they cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, her lips swollen and so very enticing even without her signature lipstick. That glamorous gown she was wearing had moved slightly around her body, glowing like pure platinum as the top of a black corselette peeked from under the neckline, her breasts practically spilling, bouncing with her rapid breaths. Her body, propped up on her elbows, was spread before you since the skirt of her dress had fallen to the sides, leaving her legs right there for you to feast on and oh Lord, were you going to. But there was another idea in your head that you wanted to do for her before you could satisfy your own needs.

In a slow twirl your back was presented to her, a hand grabbing onto the zipper of your dress, painstakingly pulling it down to let your underwear begin to seep through the garment. You could hear Avis’s breaths picking up at the way you swayed your hips to shimmy out of it, feeling the velvet brush your legs as it flowed to the floor. With graceful movements you stepped out of it, bending so that your ass was in perfect view for Avis, turning your head to look at her while picking up the dress from the floor. She groaned at the sight of your body, her mind racing as her mouth turned dry before it began to water, hypnotised by every little movement you made, from bending to standing back up after leaving your dress over the chair of her vanity. Her heart began to race with each step you took towards her, spreading her legs even further to accommodate you, your body bending over hers, face inches from hers. She rose to kiss you, but you were quick and pulled back, a naughty smirk on your lips when your fingers began to trace her jawline, neck, chest and swells of her breasts, your mouth following the same path though your fingers could not help exploring the skin underneath her corselette. She was plump and soft, and you had buried your head in between her tits many times before but could not get enough of them, feeling her stiff peak with your fingertips. Her noises were positively sublime, deep and rambling in her chest before they made their way out of her mouth in quiet gasps. You moved close to her ear, whispering huskily.

-I believe, my dear lady, that you are overdressed.

The fabric was so smooth under your palms, so undoing the knot on the side as well as the button next to her breasts was like slicing butter, pushing the gown open to free her gorgeous body. And God, what a body it was. It was maddening to have her like this right under your lips, tracing every wrinkle and crease her skin made, and you just simply could not get enough. The fireworks of Sunset Boulevard had ended some time ago, but now there was the booming sound again, in the background, lighting up the room with a soft golden glow. It did not stop you from sucking on her now exposed collarbone, scraping the skin hard, a hissing sound reaching your ears, but Avis prevented you from lifting your head by pressing a hand on your neck, her body falling onto the soft covers. A gentle lick of your tongue soothed the sting, sloppy kisses travelling down to her breasts but there wasn’t enough flesh before your eyes, fingers working on the first hook of the corselette. Her breasts bounced to free themselves and yet you did not continue, simply licked the valley in between them. How exquisite were her moans, echoing off the walls with each suck, leaving bruising marks behind that you knew her husband might find out about, but that didn’t stop you, wouldn’t stop you. If he could not appreciate the woman he was married to, you would take on such a task. Perhaps the sight of the marks would help make Avis understand that she didn’t have to settle for less than what she thought she deserved, which was everything.

Her breaths were so rapid that upon arching her back at the hand of your ministrations another hook came undone without anyone touching the garment, her breasts spilling out of the black lace freeing her pinkish nipples that were hard as rocks already. Hmmmm, your favourite appetizer at last had arrived. Kissing the ample left breast, you trailed down towards the stiff pick, taking it hungrily in your mouth, lapping up and down, twirling it around and around and around, basking in the high-pitched moans that Avis made when you scrapped the tip with your teeth, hips bucking upwards into your own pelvis. It drew out a groan from you, her pubic bone having brushed expertly, but without her actually knowing, against your clit. She knew the effects she had on you, but she had not expected such a reaction from simply sucking her tits, a naughty smirk on her lips as her eyes ogled your mouth with her nipple deep inside it. There was a whine in the air when you popped it out of your mouth, but how could you not give her right breast the same treatment when it was looking at you so readily. Deliciously it fitted in your mouth as if it was meant to be there, sucking so hard you were making Avis scream in hurried pants, her nails digging onto your scalp.

One hand kept your weight off her body but that didn’t mean you could not do several other things with the other, your nails leaving red trails over her inner thigh, massaging the soft flesh to sooth it before repeating the motion. Her legs twitched, trying to close around your frame out of seer instinct, a whimper slipping from her parted lips. It was tempting to tease her until she could not take it anymore, but tonight the plan wasn’t to see up until where the boundaries would collapse, it was to love her and care for her. Your index finger brushed over the lace of her knickers, Avis’s lower lip in between her teeth, feeling not just how wet she was; her underwear was absolutely ruined and drenched and you only wished to take it off and have your main course. It was a herculean effort to pull back, her nipple being released from your mouth in a quiet pop, but she was still quite overdressed in your most humble opinion. On your knees now, you took off her shoes, putting them on the side, massaging the tension on her arches and her ankles, settling on her left leg while carrying on with her calf, the back of her knee and then her thigh. Expert finger undid the clip pushing it out of the way, the silk stocking coming off her leg with your teeth, Avis’s eyes simply blown wide at the sight, the exact same actions taking place on her right leg instants after. Instead of climbing back on top of her though you placed her legs over your shoulders taking your sweet time to kiss trails from her ankles up to her inner thighs, back down and then back up again. She was going to go insane, of that she was certain, every single one of your kisses leaving fire on her skin, but she just could not stop you, she needed every ounce of attention you were giving her, your fingers digging over her thighs as you inched closer and closer to her centre. Just when your kisses had reached the side of her knickers did you move to her other side, sucking and biting hard, drawing out moans and whimpers all while Avis still laid on her back, her hands holding onto the bed covers. Without warning and without care you gave her one strong long lick over the lace, her salty juices on your tongue making you groan against her.

-Fuck!

Her hips buckled against your face trying desperately to get more friction, anything. You knew she needed you, but you were not going to take her like this, you wanted her to have the connection of skin to skin; raising from your knees you bent back over her body. Your hands finished unhooking the corselette, pulling it from under her and throwing it across the room. There were a few red marks left from the garment over her abdomen, and you were sure they probably bothered her, so after kissing her neck, sucking hard on her pulse point, you went all the way down to her sternum and even further, licking each red line making sure to peck the skin once you were contented with the way your saliva glistened under the moonlight, your fingers following the paths of her stretch marks with such a gentle touch you were raising goosebumps over her skin. They trailed down until your fingertips came in contact with the waistband of her knickers, removing them inch by inch all the way down her legs until she was utterly naked before you. The platinum beams that burst through the windows wrapped around her body, enticing, the fire that was burning within you mixing with the absolute adoration you felt for Avis. Her breasts were perky, rising and falling rapidly, her eyes staring hungrily at you. It just wasn’t fair, she thought, she was like a renaissance painting, naked before you with her hair down, dripping for you, and yet you were just standing there, hidden from her eyes. She had to do something about it.

With cat like grace Avis pulled herself off the bed, walking barefoot until she was right in front of you. Her hands ached to be rough, to play with you until you broke in between her fingers and then put you back together, but your eyes were looking at her with such a caring loving glow that she could not bring herself to do it. She put her hands on your shoulder and turned you until your back was pressed against her front, both your figures reflected on a tall mirror that you had not noticed before. Had she got it so she could dress herself for you? She did not give you time to think, her fingers trailing down from your shoulders over to your breasts, squeezing and kneading the flesh under your own corselette. She was delighted that you had dressed like that, not that seeing you in those see-through brassieres was something she would ever complain about, but there was just something so utterly erotic about this outfit that drove her wild. One hook came off, your breasts one step closer to freedom, her lips kissing softly the skin of your shoulder, one hand travelling underneath the black lace that cupped your breasts, the other one pulling on your hair until she had the access to you neck she desired. Your sweet skin was delicious under her tongue, and the bruises that had painted your skin not that long ago were nowhere to be found, so in that spot she decided she had to make sure those marks that had painted your entire body returned. Her teeth bit down on your neck, a yelp mixing with a moan reverberating inside the room, her tongue southing the sting before moving a little bit further down to do the same. The hand that was under you corselette was kneading on your left breast, her thumb brushing on your perky nipple. She was a pro, you knew, so it wasn’t a surprise when she pulled her hand out and with only two fingers did she undo a second hook. The garment was becoming loser around your frame, slipping down a bit more until your breasts were free, Avis’s eyes eyeing them with such desire that your utterly flooding underwear welcomed a brand-new wave of arousal.

-My very good girl is the one overdressed now, don’t you think?

You nodded at her words, her index finger following the line of your cheek down to your neck until she was painting lazy patterns over your left breast, her tongue licking the shell of your ear, biting and pulling on your earlobe. Her thumb passed over your nipple, the hand on your hair letting go to play with your right breast, the motions so tempting, so sultry that made your hips press against her pelvis just like Avis had done with you on the staircase. She played and twirled your nipples in between her fingers, pinching hard, your hands grabbing her naked hips to steady your legs, your throat slightly raw from how she was making you moan. Soon she grew restless of her own actions, unclasping each hook slowly to let your creamy skin come to light until it laid open in her hands. She could not let her eyes stop looking at every single detail of your skin, her hot breath drawing goosebumps, your stiff nipples getting even harder. The corselette fell to the floor, the weight of it pulling your stocking down with it, leaving you with all the fabric bunched up around your ankles. You were going to bend to remove them when a hand right in between your breasts stopped you, pressed you naked back against her naked chest feeling every inch of her ample tits. It was Avis who kneeled this time, the hand that had stopped you before resting right above your knickers now, her legs slightly open, lifting your leg and removing your shoe, pushing it aside, pulling the nylon stocking off.

She was spread for you to see in the mirror, those pink folds glistening in the gentle light of the moon, your arousal through the roof wishing you were already in between her legs. She was not done though; she lifted your other leg removing the stiletto and pulling the stocking off. The offending bundle of garments was thrown across the room, forgotten already as her eyes went for the next step. Her fingers were running up and down your thighs at a teasing pace, kissing the back of your legs, moving over your hamstring until her lips made contact with the skin of your ass, biting down, sucking hard. A gasp left your lips, the feeling utterly salacious and carnal, her fingers kneading the flesh, treading underneath the fabric of your underwear. No one except Avis had ever played with your ass before, this was her thing the same way that playing with her tits was yours. They stopped their motion after a moment, following the shape of your hips until the met at your pubic bone, grabbing and yanking your knickers down your legs. They rested around your knees, her hands busy parting your legs so she could feel just how much you really wanted her, humming in approval when her fingers touched your folds, coating them with your juices. The underwear fell on its own, pooling at your feet as Avis rose to look at you through the mirror, eyes following her hand, watching her lick her fingers clean, groaning at your salty essence.

Turning around to face her you stopped her movement, pulling her hand out of her mouth and taking it inside yours instead. She had not cleaned herself completely yet, the state of her saliva and your arousal the perfect mix around her fingers, tongue twirling and sucking. Fuck being gentle, fuck waiting. You pulled her fingers out with a pop and yanked her arm towards you to capture her mouth once again, your hand on her bare ass cheek kneading and spanking the bouncy flesh, her leg wrapping around your thigh and calf. Kissing her was always an experience but doing it fully naked was just beyond arousing, your need to bite and lick and suck making you draw a little bit of blood from her lower lip, the metallic taste intoxicating, your hands grabbing her other ass fully and lifting her in the air, the bruising kiss never breaking, her hands on the back of your head pulling hairpins out and letting them fall on the floor. You would worry about picking them up in the morning.

You placed her back on the bed, crawling on top of the covers but she broke from your embrace to pull them off the mattress and onto the floor, leaving the Egyptian cotton bedsheets free for her to lay upon. Her hair was fanned out on her pillow as her eyes raked over your body, sitting on your knees, waiting, like the good girl you were. There was a painting that came to mind as you took her in, watching her move one hand to rest above her head, fingers brushing the headboard while the other motioned for you to crawl over to her, a beautiful masterpiece from the 1800s that had transcended time into the 1940s, and space, to lay on this bed. You could not recall where it was displayed, but at the end of the day it was just that, a work on a canvas that you could not touch. The woman before you was real though, solid and positively divine with the way each curve of her soft flesh seemed to have been carved by the hands of angels, her eyes the doors to the Heavens, her lips the gates to Hell. There was no corner of her body that you would not paint, no freckle that you would not kiss and if her body was a forest, you would gladly get lost in it for all eternity. Avis looked like a Venus, like a goddess that you would pray to every day and night and she deserved to be painted and displayed just as much as those priceless works of art, even if there was a part of you that only wanted to keep her to yourself, like a secret that no one could see except for you, every spot in her body only for you to kiss and taste, her sounds only for you to hear. You crawled on top of her, taking her hand to kiss her finger before placing it above her head next to the other, lowering your mouth to peck her gently. The road that your lips travelled was well known to you, every curve and hill memorised; her collarbone, the hollow of her neck, her maddening breasts that you could not help but kiss one more time, and in between every stretch mark in her abdomen and upper thighs.

Her legs parted, granting you access to that part of her body that you desired the most, bending until your chest was practically resting over the mattress, ass up in the air, kissing and licking the soft skin of her inner thighs. There were still a few remnants of the bruises you had inflicted upon her that first night, but there was still plenty of untouched flesh for you to paint. She moaned when she felt you suck, knowing that in the morning her body could be covered in hickeys, not that she cared, not anymore, her back arching off the bed a little, hips moving almost as if they were trying to tempt you. She needed to be patient, just for a bit longer you thought, still giving your full attention to the bruise that was already forming, licking to sooth it before turning to her other thigh, sucking and biting, a hiss mixing with her loud moans. She was always so very vocal, which you adored, and when you came face to face with her dripping folds you couldn’t help but smile. Dinner was served. You preferred something sweet as dessert, but the saltiness of Avis’s juices was the perfect cherry on top of a wonderful night, your tongue lapping the whole length of her cunt with one long swipe. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head at the feeling of your mouth on her, hips moving against your face.

-God, fuck, Y/N.

The moans that were breaking from her parted lips filled your head, loud and sensual, because how could Avis make any sound that wasn’t absolutely indecent and salacious, your own juices coating the top of your inner thighs. Your nose brushed gently against her clit, a hand shooting to keep you in place as a scream slid out her throat, her nails digging into your scalp, but your movement never stopped, her pleasure building higher and higher. She had had your tongue on her before, and had adored every second of it, but the things you were doing to her this time, the soft licks, nudging her swollen bud prolonging it all, driving her insane with such a caring touch, oh God, it was something else. Every touch sent her a message that she mattered to you, that her pleasure was your main goal, to see her unravelling before your eyes, to drink in her relaxed and satisfied body as if she could be the last thing your eyes ever saw. It made the way your tongue moved a thousand times more powerful, the coil in her lower abdomen burning bright, threatening to set her on fire. With one hand you opened up her folds to grant your tongue access to her entrance, darting in and out slowly at first. The grip on your hair never lessened and the way her hips were moving told you that she needed more, so you gave it to her without a second thought taking her clit in your mouth, sucking so hard that her back arched off the bed, the hand that had been resting and toying with the fabric of her pillowcase, holding hard onto the headboard.

You had never wished you had been born with a cock before, but the sight of her as you gave her one long lick before sitting back on your knees, her dark eyes watching you confused wondering why you had stopped, made you long for one to pound deep into her, to fill her up and feel every inch of her insides around you, warm and velvety. The best you could do was to move your fingers up and down, her head falling back over her pillow, coating them in her juices before plunging them in. She screamed at the feeling of her cunt stretching to accommodate you as you travelled in kisses back up her body, taking her nipples in your mouth. They were your weakness, an imperious need to always play with them forcing you to twirl them and suck hard. Slowly you pulled your hand back giving her a moment before pushing back in, hard, curling to touch that sweet spot with your fingertips, another scream escaping her open mouth, your lips kissing the skin under her ribcage. The taste of her skin along with that of her juices was intoxicating, driving you to move your hand faster and harder against her as your mouth trailed and bit at her collarbones and her neck finally reaching her lips, drawing her into a deep kiss that made Avis’s already fuzzy head grow dizzy. There were so many sensations that she just couldn’t focus, both her legs bending over your hips, the heels of her feet digging onto your lower back. In this new position you could push your hand harder into her by using the power of your pelvis, thrusting once to see if it was any good.

-FUCK! YES! YES!

If it had been Summer the entire neighbourhood would have been able to hear her screams, but with the windows closed her words and sounds were for your ears only. Your hips thrust against your hand once more, her hips moving downwards to meet you, her head thrown back against the pillow as a thin layer of sweat begun to cover her body, your greedy tongue licking if off the side of her neck before biting and sucking hard, leaving a most wonderous hickey right where everyone would be able to see, but Avis was too lost to notice. With each movement of your hips her body bobbed up and down on the mattress, her gorgeous and ample tits swaying with the sinful motions, her moans higher and higher in pitch as she felt her orgasm building, nearly reaching the delicious peak she desired. There was no warning, just you adding another finger, practically slamming your hips against her pelvis, the rhythm you had previously had a bit more erratic, losing yourself in the way she was screaming in your ear, clenching around your fingers so hard, her skin so delicious in your mouth. Your hand would be useless for a day or two with the way you were pushing it knuckle deep inside her, slamming it against her pubic bone, but it was a prize you were willing to pay. With your thumb you circled her clit, playing a game of pressure that could send her over the edge any minute and yet it seemed as if there was something preventing her from doing so. Your mouth kissed behind her ear, licking its shell before you whispered.

-Come for me Avis, see the stars that you begged me to show you.

A shiver run all over her body, like a wave, before the coil in her lower abdomen exploded, an intense white fire spreading through every limb, her back arching of the bed as your name left her lips in a loud scream, her legs trembling and shaking all while the grip on your hair pulled painfully and the heels of her feet dug against your lower back. But there was no real pain, nothing truly hurt, her pleasure the only thing that mattered to you as her hips slammed onto yours, your hand in between them, as she rode out her orgasm. Her vision was blurred, white stars dancing through them, her eyes rolling back with each wave and twitch that coursed through her spasming walls.

-Y/N! YES! YES! YES! GOD, I LOVE YOU!  

Every cell in your body froze for an instant, her body collapsing on the mattress her chest rising and falling in hurried loud pants, arms like jelly as they let go of your hair and the headboard, her legs unwrapping from around your back, though you did not move, hands caressing the skin of her thighs to bring her gently down. Part of you wanted those words to be real, to believe her even if she had spoken them in the throws of passion, but the other half believed they were just that, words, no real meaning behind them, a turmoil of confused thoughts rushing through your mind. Until her eyes opened behind heavy lids and everything turned quiet. Her eyes were so very deep and beautiful, expressing everything so clearly that to you there was no doubt that she had meant it. Her shaky hand caressed your cheek, your body having not moved from being on top of hers, that bright smile shinning all over the room but right now only for your eyes to see. In that sweet afterglow that always left her so very relaxed, so raw with her emotions and realizations, did she allow herself to acknowledge what she felt because this had been the last step she had needed to see that what you two had went beyond mere care and lust. Her heart had been alone in a dark room for years but then you came, with an entire array of Christmas lights and chandeliers and filled it all with light, your heart sitting beside hers, never letting it go from your embrace. This is what love was supposed to feel like, and she would never ever let it slip through her fingers. She brought you down for a kiss, a gentle pressing of lips, and even if it was the simplest one you two had shared, it was the best of them. Upon parting you laid beside her, your head sharing her big pillow.

-Avis.

-Don’t overthink it Y/N. I said what I said, and you know me; I don’t take words back.

-But there’s so much you don’t know about me.

-I don’t care. – in between her thumb and index finger she twirled and played with a lock of your hair, her gaze never parting from yours. They were filled with love, shinning like never before, making you lose yourself in their depth, her warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. It made your chest burst with happiness. -You could be a Russian spy, and I would still love you. You make me feel like a human being and trust me, that’s fucking fantastic; you give my life a purpose, a brand-new perspective. Life is so full of possibilities now that you are here, with me, so many adventures that had never crossed my mind before. All the money, jewels and mink coats that I own could never compare to you making me feel like I’m someone, like I matter.

-It’s so easy to be around you, to care.

-Even though I’m a very faulted woman?

-Everyone is, you just know how to cope with it. You are temperamental but also passionate, you don’t apologise but you make it up to people, you have sat in the back letting others take your spotlight, and it doesn’t seem fair, Avis. I want to give you that, I want you to be up on stage and reclaim it; let everyone adore you. The world is yours and you must walk like you own it.

-I could have sworn I already did that. – her lips pecked your cheeks and jaw bit never pushed further than that, she knew you both needed to talk this out. You felt her teasing smile against your skin.

-Indeed, but what I mean is that you must stop letting Ace treat you like this. Break free from him and his lies and be yourself and if he doesn’t like it, he can go and fuck himself. You have a beautiful soul; you can’t let him crush it and turn you into a bitter woman.      

-I wanted him to love me, to care for Claire, but its as if I’m just an addition to his life, like an object. We’ve been through this shit so many times, but he never changes. – the hurt run deep, her eyes glancing down to your necklace that she had not removed, toying with the metal chain to keep her eyes from locking with yours. That man had broken her so much and so many times, and you could see why she would practically throw herself at the first person that showed her a bit of love and affection. She was emotionally starved. - I had spent so long wanting to be his wife so when I realised that I wasn’t wanted and that I never will be, my eyes finally opened, and I saw the truth. I had confused my wishes, my dreams, for the real thing and seeing that… - she had to stop for a moment, tears threatening to fall, her words choking her up with the overwhelming feelings of shame and sadness. You hated seeing her like this, hiding herself and her pain from you, so your finger moved under her chin forcing her to look up, watching as those crystal drops ran down her cheeks and towards the tip of her nose. Her voice wavered but she still carried on needing to let it all out. - that I had been tricked by life, well, it hurt. It took time to see that this marriage was never going to work, we don’t care enough about each other to bother fixing it. Should you fix something that has been broken since day one?

-No, you shouldn’t. You must let it wither and die, Avis, as much as it may hurt at first. You don’t need him. I will be your husband, your wife, your partner, your friend, your therapist and your doctor. I will hold you and wipe your tears, - your thumbs slid over her cheeks capturing the drops, kissing the soft, warm flesh and removing the saltiness off her nose. The grip she had on your forearms now was bruising, like she was grounding herself on your skin. - laugh at your jokes and tell you everyday of my life that there is not a soul in this world, in this universe, that… I love more than yours.

-You… love me? – her voice held a note of doubt, as if she had heard those words before dressed in deceit, but there was such a deep hope in those glistening eyes that elated you, your face inches from hers, foreheads touching.

-Since the very first time I saw you. All that we’ve shared has only made my feelings stronger, and I’m sure of them. Learning about you, finding out all the little things that no one has bothered to listen to, like you not liking mustard, or that you love going on walks down at the beach when the sun has already set, when the night hides you from prying eyes and you can let your mask fall, simply brings me joy. You are such a wonderful woman, and you have lived things that I could have never even imagined, and I want to know it all. Every single second of your life.

-Please Y/N, tell me what you promised me. What’s the meaning?

-That’s simple. You. – her breath hitched in her lungs, the biggest most sincere smile painting her lips as a brand-new batch of tears fell down her cheeks. This time you let them fall as they held a completely different air around them, a voice in the back of your mind telling you that you had to let Avis guide you on this. With your left hand you pushed her hair back, caressing her cheek with your fingers while rubbing gently on her jaw with your thumb. -People have come and gone in my life and I have learnt good and bad things from them, but they all shared the same trait. They took and took and took so when I was ready to receive, they would go. You take Avis, but you also give so much in return. I have never met anyone who could care this much, who could give like this. It doesn’t matter if it’s a car, or flowers, the things that mean the most to me are the ones that no one would consider, like a bag of food with a note reminding me to eat or you taking the time to talk with Giuseppe and his family. You listen when I speak and remember the tiny little details that no one had bothered with before, like your new shampoo that smells like home. That’s the meaning of happy, simply you.

You tasted the salt of her tears as she pressed her lips to yours, her body pushing you to your back over the cotton bedsheets. With Avis now on top you could stare unabashedly up at her wonderous body, and yet your eyes could only look at hers, pupils blow wide again, lust overtaking all the sadness she had felt, but never the love and joy you had caused to bloom in her chest. The conversation was over, the time for words had passed, but she still bent until her mouth was resting over yours, brushing, tempting, whispering one final question.

-What do you want Y/N?

-Make love to me, Avis.

She could most certainly fulfil such a lovely request, her lips pressing, lingering over yours, the kiss deepening after a few moments of her simply pecking, her legs straddling you with your hands on her hips painting lazy patterns. Biting down on your lower lip she was granted access, her tongue tracing your teeth, sucking and pulling, battling your tongue, earning a groan of pleasure from deep within your throat. Her kisses went down your chin towards your neck. She already knew all the sweet spots that drove you crazy, licking, gracing the soft skin with her teeth until she left you trembling and whimpering, moving on to your pulse point. She was a pro, sucking down hard until there was a bruise identical to the one you had given her, her tongue lapping over the mark to soothe it, although there was a throb in between your legs that she could not soothe, not yet. What a wonderful journey she was taking down your body, her sloppy kisses now in the valley of your breasts, her hands kneading at the plump flesh. You gasped at the feeling, your hips buckling lightly under the weight of her pelvis, Avis groaning when you touched her still sensitive cunt, wet once more. The way her hands played and teased your breasts was maddening, thumbs brushing your stiff nipples, her mouth playing with the sensitive skin around them before finally popping one of them in her mouth. The sigh that you gave quickly turned into moans as she twirled it and sucked, screaming in surprise when she bit down, your back arching, hands holding onto her hips harder all while pressing her down onto you, aching.

Her attention moved to your other nipple, brushing it with her thumb before taking it in her mouth, twirling and biting. The way she took you and played with you was just divine, her fiery lock brushing and tickling, enhancing the thousand emotions and sensations that were overtaking your body, but she still did not stop, although her mouth was now kissing down your abdomen, licking every little stretch mark that you possessed. When she had first seen her own, years ago, she had thought no one would ever want to see her naked ever again, but your body was beautiful, a work of art, and it was also painted with them, and you never recoiled from hers, only made her feel good about them. How could she ever think that they were not sexy when you had them, and she was crazy about you? Her body had moved lower on the bed, your legs spreading to let her sit in between them, her hands rubbing circles on your hip bone as her kisses trailed lower and lower until your pubic bone was under her lips. You were not one to push or beg, you had a certain level of patience, one of the traits she loved most about you as she was an explosive force of nature, so she knew you were enjoying it how much she was making you wait even if she could feel how hot your skin was under her palms.

Her fingers played and walked all the way from your upper thigh to the ankle of your left leg, her hand wrapping around it and lifting, her lips kissing the arch of your foot, pecking the skin of your calf and sucking behind your knee, placing your leg over her shoulder. Her hot breath ghosted over your inner thigh raising goosebumps, making you whimper and close your eyes when her teeth nibbled and kissed up until the joint in between your cunt and leg, your breath hitched in your lungs. She gave you a gentle kiss over your dripping folds, a reward of sorts or perhaps a gentle torture, you were unsure, before moving to your right leg, placing it over her shoulder once she had kissed behind your knee. It was a wonderful contrast how she could taste your sweet skin and the salty tears she had just cried, the happiest tears she had ever shed in her life. She would happily stay like this forever with you in her bed, being loved, receiving every ounce of what she could give, just like she wanted, like you needed. Her kisses on your inner thigh were sweet and gentle, a far cry from the roughness she had showed you that first night, her lips inches from your centre, her breathing tickling you, cooling the juices that were coating your folds. The anticipation was staggering, your breath shaky, your hands holding onto the bedsheets on either side of you for dear life until finally her mouth made contact, and your eyes rolled back.

Her tongue was magical, moving up and down slowly, tasting, drinking in the sweetness of you while her hands pressed against your hips gently to keep you in place. The moans that were filling up the room were loud, great indication for Avis that she was doing perfectly in between your legs, taking one of your folds and sucking hard. Stars were not that far from your vision if she carried on like that, her movements faster now, her fingers accompanying her mouth as she opened you up to her, pushing one finger inside you as her lips wrapped around your clit, twirling it, sending jolts of pleasure all throughout your body. You really did not know how much you could take; you were so worked up that anything she did made your head roll back and your body arch and buckle against her face, but she still pushed your limits a little by adding a second finger, pumping in and out as fast as she could, curling her fingers. When your walls began to clench hard around her, your moans turning to incoherent screams muffled by the pillow as you thrashed your head from side to side, her licks became more applied, harder and more focused around your swollen bud, adding a third finger that stretched you up so divinely that upon feeling her thrust deep inside you hitting that spot, her lips sucking, teeth scraping you became quiet.

Everything was numb and then explosive, white fire and electricity through every limb, hips buckling erratically against Avis’s face. Your body was shaking and trembling, screaming her name until your throat became raw, nearly suffocating her as your thighs closed up around her. You rode your orgasm hard, so hard that Avis nearly had the temptation of carrying on until you were coming around her fingers a second time but decided against it, after all, the night was young. There was plenty of time for her to take you again and again until you became one with her. Your juices coated her face and hand as her pace slowed, her tongue taking it all while being careful not to touch your overstimulated clit. After a few moments you collapsed underneath her, legs releasing her and allowing her to take a deep breath, but she was not mad, she kissed your knees, her hands rubbing soothing circles on the skin of your hip bone as you came down. She wanted to check that you were okay, crawling up your body, your breasts bouncing as your body panted trying to return to a semblance of normality, her lips pecking the line of your jaw and cheeks. Still with your eyes closed you smiled and although you could not see her you were sure she was smiling as well. You hadn’t realised you were still grabbing the bedsheets, releasing them, your hands slightly numb from the strength with which you had been holding onto them, but you still brought them to the back of her neck, lazily playing with her hair.

-You are going to be hoarse tomorrow, darling.

-Hmmmm, words are overrated.

-Not after what you just told me. I think those ones are the most precious ones I will ever hear. – the way her voice laced with care and honesty made you open your eyes, her face a foot above yours, her hair framing her face just beautifully, waves tussled and dishevelled and sightly matted. – I could spend all night hearing you talk about all the things that you love about me, but I would love it even more if I could hear everything about you.

-I would like that. Over dessert?

-I thought I was your dessert. Was I not sweet enough on your tongue?

-Oh, Avis, you were delicious. – you both chuckled quietly before meeting your lips for a gentle loving kiss, her arms snaking around your neck as she dropped on her side moving you so you were still face to face. – But Teresa did give you a package

-Shit, I left in the car! I had other things in my mind.

She pecked your lips before stepping off the bed. God, she was gorgeous. Every curve was just utter temptation under the moonlight, but much to your dismay she covered them with a pink feathered robe, making her way to the door and telling you that she would be back in a minute, leaving it ajar. Your body was still tingling, and you basked in the wonderful feeling for a bit before sitting in bed observing how her dress was bunched up on the floor in between the covers, her underwear everywhere while yours rested a few feet from the full-size mirror. One of these days you would take her while standing in front of it, watch her face contort in pleasure, meeting her eyes through the reflection. You were shaken from your thoughts when Avis returned with the brown package in her hands, closing the door and climbing back on top of the mattress. Her hands were busy undoing the string, yours undoing the knot of her robe, she was far too overdress for all the things you had planned for her, placing tender kisses on her neck and shoulders as you slipped the garment off her body and onto the floor. Avis had stilled her movements, her fingers resting over the cardboard until she felt your hands wrap around her waist, pressing her back against you, finally letting her pull the top open.

-Oh, tiramisu!

-Just like Teresa to give you her favourite dessert. Uh, she likes you, she’s even given us cutlery. – your hand picked up the metal spoon, slicing through the mascarpone and biscuits before lifting it to Avis’s face. – Here, taste the most delicious thing in the planet. - She took it greedily, wrapping her lips around the scoop, lulling her head back slightly, her ear resting against your cheek, moaning loudly as she chewed.

-My God, this is marvellous. I’m going to have to hire her to cater future parties.

-Oh yeah? Am I going to have to worry about you trying to seduce her?

-It would only be for the food dear, only for the food. I would never change you for anyone, and I’ve seen gorgeous actress and actors. None of them hold a candle to you.

-Good, because I would be very upset since… - you pushed her face to the side with your fingers on her chin to meet your eyes, your lips hovering over hers. – I very much love you.

-What? I’m afraid I’m a bit hard of hearing, could you repeat it?

-I… love… you – each word was emphasized by a kiss, the remnants of coffee and mascarpone mixing with her own essence deliciously.

-Again.

-I love you.

-Again.

-Avis, I love you.

Her body turned completely, chest pressed against chest, slipping easily in your arms to kiss you properly, the dessert forgotten at the foot of the bed as she pushed you back over the mattress.

[hyun-xxe]

You're Mine, Silly! (Yandere!Jungkook x F!Reader) PART 1

Summary: You've only met him once at a fan meet. You were excited and happy since he was your bias. Thats how you saw him. However, Jungkook saw things differently.

warnings: none

PART 1

There he was, sitting down right in front of you. A part of you still couldn't believe that he was literally a foot away, smiling at you. The sparkle in his eyes bright and shiny, just like his smile.

You swore everything inside you melted away and no thought was left except for Jungkook.

"Hey there!" he waves, grabbing your hand in his, "What's your name beautiful?" he asks, rubbing your palm with his thumb.

It took everything in you not to pass out right in front of you so you mustered up the courage to speak. "Hi!! My name is Y/N! I'm so excited to finally meet you!" you smile brightly, jumping up and down.

"Excited you say?" he smirks, leaning closer, his cologne spreading up toward you, giving you a whiff of his scent. "What makes me so exciting to you?" he questions.

You pretend to think on it real hard when in reality it was so fucking obvious why. "Hmmmm well, I can't deny that you are my bias. You're such a talented singer, song writer, are funny, and so adorable."

His eyes softened as you rambled about things you like about him. With every word you said and the way you seemed so passionate about how you feel made him feel a certain way.

When you realized you were rambling, you felt your face become hot and you removed your hand from his hold. Embarrassment filled you as you scratched the back of your neck, "I'm sorry," you apologize, "I didn't mean to ramble off your ear." you laugh.

Your laugh was cute, something he would love to hear often.

"No, don't apologize." he says and reached over to, once again, hold your hand in his. "Please, don't feel embarrassed. It was cute."

With his free hand, he reached over and grabbed your album to sign. Jungkook did not want to let go of your soft hand. It felt nice in his, like it belonged there.

When you saw him sign it with a message to your name, you opened your mouth. "Can you also put Elijah?" you ask.

he quirked his eyebrow up, confused at your request but nevertheless wrote down the name, "Is he your brother?" Jungkook asked.

You shake your head, "He's my boyfriend! He was the one who bought my ticket actually!" you smiled, "He really wanted to come today, but there was an emergency at work."

Jungkook felt himself freeze. You have a boyfriend? What?

It didn't make any sense. How could you ramble on about how perfect Jungkook is and how adorable he is, only to now say you're in a relationship?

"Oh really?" he mumbled under his breath, trying to contain his cool. "You didn't mention him before."

"it slipped my mind because I was so excited to meet you guys. You and Jimin are his biases."

He didn't know how to feel. Certainly you were flirting with him, there was no doubt, but now you're saying you're with someone. It just didn't make any sense.

"I wish he could've made it." Jungkook says, knowing damn well he didn't mean it.

The bell rung, signaling that it was time to rotate. He didn't want you to go and hated how he only had five minutes to talk to you.

You picked up your album to move on, hoping he would let go of your other hand, but he didn't. In fact, it was as if he held it tighter. You tried releasing your hand, but it was firmly held in his.

Was this by mistake?

Looking to your right, you saw the others behind grow impatient as they looked your way. A lot of the other fans caught glimpse of Jungkook still holding your hand and looking at you with full eyes.

He wasn't letting go and it made you scared because you didn't want to get yelled at by staff and even get kicked out.

In the corner of your eye, you saw a staff make their way toward you and you tried your best to get your hand out, but to no avail. However, there was a savior that stepped in.

Jin placed his hand on Jungkook's shoulder, gaining the youngest's attention. "Uhm, are you okay, Jungkook?" he asked, looking between you both. "The bell rang almost a minute ago, let go of the poor ladies hand."

It took everything in Jungkook to not yell at his hyung, but he obeyed his orders.

"I'm sorry Y/N!" he said, eyes pleading with you, "I got lost in thought and didn't mean for this to happen!"

He was loud and everyone was looking, it made you feel hot with embarrassment, but seeing how he is right now made you feel bad for some reason. As if it was your fault.

"it's ok!" you say, moving in front of Jin, "No need to apologize."

After that, everything felt quick for you. Seeing other members made you happy and it was something you would never forget, especially with Jungkook. He didn't mean to hold your hand that long, so you didn't really think much of it. Besides, you mentioned your boyfriend and your love for Elijah will triumph over Jungkook any day.

However, it was the next day that made things go downhill. You woke up to your phone going off every second. it scared you, made you think a relative died and that your siblings or parents were trying to get ahold of you.

But when you opened your sister's messages, your eyes popped out.

sister: Go check Twitter right now!!

sister: Y/N, WAKE UP!!! THIS IS IMPORTANT!!

sister: if u dont wake up rn ill fucking drive over to your apartment and nuke your door down

You message her quickly, telling her that you're checking right now. Opening the app, it was the first thing that popped up.

WHO IS THE GIRL THAT CAPTURED JK'S HEART?

Was the first headline you saw. You prayed hard and deep that it was something totally different and did not involve you at all.

You clicked on the tweet and your heart dropped. It was clearly a picture of you at the fan meet. it was the moment when Jungkook held onto your hand tightly and didn't let go. Even now you can clearly see the soft look in his face as he stared at you.

How stupid were you for not realizing that fans could take things the wrong way and make it to what it really isn't!

You read the tweet and it made your blood boil.

I was at BTS' fan meet last night and what I saw made me gasp! When the bell rung for the fans to move onto the next member, there was a moment that made everyone shocked. Jungkook wouldn't let go of this girls hand! I don't know her name or who she is, but when I zoomed in, you can see the look in his eyes that he had for her! It was adorable and sweet! The way he held her hand made me swoon!

#BTS #whoIsTheGirl #Jungkook

You scrolled through other tweets, some of them confused, others shocked, a few of them were hate, but a lot of them were excited. It pissed you off. This wasn't Wattpad, this only should happen in cringe stories. You were dating the love of your life and this could seriously ruin things.

Going to Elijah's contact, you tried calling him twice, but he didn't pick up. You texted him asking if he was ok, but he just read your message.

Everything was going downhill so you grabbed your stuff and headed over to your boyfriends apartment.

Upon arriving, you knocked several times for him to answer because there was no way in hell you were leaving without explaining things. When he opened the door, you invited yourself in without asking.

"What are you doing?" he asks, closing and locking the door behind him, "whats wrong?"

You tilted your head, confused by his actions. Is he this mad that he looks so calm?

"I'm here to talk about whats happening on twitter and want to give you my side." you say.

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Something on twitter? Care to elaborate?"

"Why are you acting confused? Aren't you angry? I tried texting and calling but you ignored them."

He laughed and walked up to you, giving your forehead and kiss, "I am sorry, honey. I was on the phone with my sister and was trying to calm her down from her first heartbreak. When I saw your text, my phone died."

Elijah then walked to the counter and showed his phone with the screen showing the black background and white apple icon, signifying that it was just turning on from it being dead.

You felt the worry ease just a little as you finally calmed down. "oh thank god." you whisper, placing your hand over your chest. "You scared me so much."

he chuckles and stands in front of you, "Whats happening though? Tell me."

So you told him everything, about how Jungkook kept holding your hand, fans took pictures, thought of something else, and now you're trending on Twitter. You showed him the tweets, pictures, and tags.

His eyes scanned each and every one of them, and after he smiled and chuckled. "Oh Y/N." he gives you a tight hug, "Did you think I was angry about this? That I believed it?"

You nodded your head in his chest.

"You're such a dork." he ruffles your hair, "I would've called your if anything, and besides this is not something you would do. You're loyal, and kind, and I trust you. It was a mistake and the fans fault for taking things the wrong way."

You felt like there was a heavy weight that was lifted from your shoulder. He understood and listened carefully to your words and it made you realize how lucky you are to have him as your boyfriend.

He tried his best to cheer you up, making you food and putting on your favorite show.

When you got the notification that Jungkook was live on Weverse, you and your boyfriend stopped what you were doing to watch it, hoping he would clear up any rumor.

"Hello," he says, waving at the camera. He waited for more people to come on and just kept staring at the lense. When enough people joined, he started talking more.

"'did you see what is trending on twitter?' Yeah, I have actually. She looks pretty in that picture." he says, smiling to himself.

You tilted your head, confused by his words. Shouldn't he shoot down the rumor now instead of fueling it by saying how pretty you are?

"You guys should know that she is just has pretty as her name. Everything about her is flawless." he laughs to himself and reads another comment "'are you guys dating?' I guess this is where I have to be honest and upfront with you guys."

You felt relieved that he was finally going to dispell the rumors between you both and you can finally be at peace from all of this.

"Yes, we are dating. We wanted to keep it on the down low and she wanted to surprise me at the event, but I guess my love for her got the best of me."

Your blood ran cold and your eyes widened. Did you hear him correctly? Was he being serious? You were hoping he said something else and you just needed to check your hearing?

You turned to your boyfriend and see that hes also wide eye, frozen in his place, and even shaking just a little.

"Please, army, im asking you guys to refrain from getting into her privacy. She is human after all, my love and my girl. It would mean the world to me if you showed kindness and love to our relationship."

Why is he doing this? You didn't understand why he was saying these things and what made him attached to you. "What the actual fuck!" you screamed out, throwing your phone.

"How long have we been dating?" he reads aloud, "Since five months already." Jungkook smiles, "I cant believe time has flown by so fast!" he chuckles. "Do the members like her? Of course they do! They're so protective over her, but not too much. After all, shes my girl."

You were sick to your stomach hearing him speak more. The realization dawned on you from last night and why he kept on holding your hand tight, even when you had to move on. Him being your bias sickened you as you realized who this man truly is.

To his fans, he was the kindest and sweetest person ever, his eyes fooled everyone, even you. But now this?

Seeing your boyfriend on the couch, not saying a word broke your heart.

"Please, tell me you don't believe him babe," your eyes started to get watered, "I never met him before last night."

He finally looked at you, swallowing his spit and shaking his head, "Babe, its ok, I believe you." he answeres, "But t-that man," he points at your phone, "Hes fucking crazy. Sick in the head for thinking that. What the hell!?"

You walked up to your boyfriend, giving him a tight hug. "Don't worry babe, I'm going to fix this. I promise."

You left later that night and when you got home, you emptied your purse and thats when you noticed the album you brought with you to the fan meet.

Opening it up, your eyes almost bulged out of your head when seeing his sick note you left you.

You're the most prettiest girl I've ever met with the prettiest name. Please, I want to see you soon. Take care!

Below that had a phone number on it with the words next to it being "Contact me anytime."

You were stupid and dumb, but this needed to be fixed once and for all. Picking up your phone and putting in that number, you waited for the caller to pick up.

It went to voicemail.

You knew this was stupid and it wouldn't work, so you placed down your phone and screamed into your pillow. He's messing up the relationship between you and your man for no reason.

How could a lovely time turn into your worse? Were you actually curs-

*RING!*

Suddenly, your phone lights up with the number you put in and you almost chocked on your spit.

Slowly reaching out, you picked it up and answered, waiting for the person to speak.

"Who is th-this?" you ask, swallowing a nervous spit.

"You called me, shouldn't I be the one asking?"

The voice sounded familiar, but you didn't want to assume that it was him, however you were built on frustration and you let it all out.

"I know this is you, Jungkook. I found the number you left in my album. You are a sick bastard for what you're doing!" You yelled, "What the fuck gave you the idea that we are dating? Why the fuck are you saying this when I've never met you in my entire life.

"Do you not understand that you're ruining my relationship that I have with my boyfriend!?" You yelled into the phone, a tear slipping down.

The line stayed quiet and it pissed you off even more. Even if it wasn't Jungkook on the line, it had to be someone close to him since he wrote this number down by heart.

"Oh, its nice hearing from you finally!" his voice rung out, almost too happy, "How have you been, love?"

You felt the anger rushing in all over again as you laughed, "Are you fucking kidding me!? Did you not hear what I said??"

"I did, yes. But why should that concern me?" he asks, seemingly not caring about the situation he created.

"Did you not care to consider the fact that you're ruining my life? People around me are calling me a whore, they think I left my boyfriend because I met you! Do you not get it?!"

He chuckles a bit, "Don't listen to them, their words should mean nothing. Besides, what do you want me to do about it?"

You froze in place as you were left dumb founded. Is this man serious? "Are you fucking kidding me!? I want you to fix this! We aren't dating and I have a boyfriend, Elijah is his name. Not Jungkook."

Jungkook was quiet for a few seconds before speaking up, "You know, I don't think your boyfriend would be happy with how you were fliritng with me at the event."

You laughed at his stupidity, almost close to hanging up and calling the cops even. "Flirting with you? How was I flirting with you!?"

"The things you said about me being adorbale, funny and all of that. Don't play stupid, its not cute. What would your boyfriend do when he hears the things you said about me?"

"You cannot be serious." you say, angry and confused, "That wasn't fliritng, Jungkook! I was genuonely complimenting you since you were my bias! You need to get out of delusional land!"

"Love, you expect me to go back online and tell the world that what I said isn't true?" he asked.

"Well, fucking obviously!" you screamed.

"Yeah, I can't do that. Besides, what would the fans think of me when I tell them that all that I said was a lie?" he says.

"Well everything was a lie! You created this mess!"

He sighs, "Y/N," you forgot he knew your name, "I'm not taking back my words. I genuinely like you and want something."

You pulled your hair in disbelief, "Jungkook, did you not hear me say that I have a boyfriend 50 times!? There is no us and will never be an us."

He was quiet and all you could hear was tapping. "If you're not going to say anything, I will."

"Love, do you know the power I have?" He asks, "I am a rich man, me and my members bring in 5 BILLION dollars every year. That being said, I have the power to do anything and that anything involves you. Army listens to what I say and eat it up, if I go online with tears in my eyes talking about how hear broken I am.... you can kiss your life and privacy goodbye."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "J-Jungkook, are you threatening me?" you asked, so shocked that you swear your heart stopped pounding.

"No, I would never. I'm just letting you know the consequences of what might happen." he says in a soft, degrading tone, "Listen, why don't we meet up and talk about this? Yeah? I'll send you an address first thing tomorrow. How does that sound?"

"No! I'm not going to meet you, are you crazy!?" you yell, gripping your phone tighter in your hands.

"I wonder how army will feel when they hear you say how 'fucking stupid' I am, and how delusional I am for simply being in love." he sighs, "I would hate for your reputation to plummet."

The feeling of your heart sinking is the worse feeling in the entire world. You were helpless and you didn't know what to do, this was completely out of your hands, he was in charge.

"W-why are you doing this to me?" you whisper, tears falling down, "what did I do?"

"Don't cry, my love." he whispers in a soothing tone, "Seeing you for the first time has made me helpless. I knew I needed you in my life. You are the most beautiful human I've ever laid eyes on. Lets talk more about this tomorrow, ok love?"

You didn't feel like talking more, so you stuttered out a yes before hanging up. This man is insane and you knew that if you made the smallest mistake, he has the power to ruin you and your family. What did you do to deserve this?

*PART 2 COMING UP SOON!*

[ghulah]

Papa Emeritus, Terzo and the weight of the Mitre.

Due to popular demand, here is my Terzo analysis. It has been significantly cut down(if you do want the uncut analysis, here) because most of it was bullet points and unhinged notes I made. To be completely transparent, this was inspired by @cityofmeliora's own Terzo analysis post as well as several other analyses which I will be linking (also some headcanon stuff the wifecule had cooked up together lol).

These are all the posts (1 2 3 4 5 ) I used as resources and this compilation of Ghost interviews, as well as the Metal Myths part 2, because that's sort of required viewing at this point, isn't it?

I'll be splitting this analysis up into sections, first are brief descriptions and explanations of my understanding of the different aspects of Terzo - as Papa, as a Cardinal and as himself.

As for my sources, I won't be inserting the direct quotes here(because this post would be the longest ever) and they are all available in the aforementioned links.

Anyway, onwards, Ghesties!

First of all, What is Papa?

This is in reference to Papa, the entity, the image - not the person. Papa is a character, he's a mask, he's a façade. He is an image and an idea and the face of the Clergy. He is everything and he is above all yet he is not. According to mister Ghost-man himself, he is a stereotype, he is someone you know from somewhere and often than not he's old, charismatic, maybe a little bit bitter. He is sort of nebulous, he is a concept.

All whom take up the mantle, the Mitre, live up to this to a certain degree, it's part of the job! It also might be part of the bloodline, but y'know.

In that case, who is Papa Emeritus III?

The character of Papa III, the performer, the leader, the one to show us the way. Papa III is the face of the Ministry, he is a showman, a diva who is perfect for the role of the Satanic Pope who is not only theatrical, but also charismatic and fun and ambitious! He is artistic and outspoken. He knows what he's doing, he loves having a good time - drinks, partying, sex! He encourages it, as long as everyone is safe. He wants to bring about a new age, something to thrive. He will lead us all to damnation!

Papa III cares for his people, he makes sure they are safe and sound even in the midst of the chaos of the Rituals. He is, after all, the messenger that leads the audience through the hero's journey - a guide.

Cardinal Terzo

Let me be clear, this is all derived from Bishop Necropolitus Cracoviensis (who is representative of the album artist Zbigniew Biela) testimonial on Terzo when they were buddies back in Poland.

Cardinal Terzo was a slutty slutty, party man with a revolution in mind. He actually had a lot of visions and ideas to keep the Ministry going and modernizing it. He seemed super, well, locked in. He also likes Futurism, which aligns with his Art Deco and German Expressionism in his box of early 20th century art movements. He saw a future and he wanted to bring it to life, he held the same sins as his brother, Vice, Lust, Greed - but he had Ambition (credit to user cityofmeliora for this epiphany). That's what set it all off. Cardinal Terzo had that joie de vivre.

But who is Terzo?

Terzo Emeritus is a man of many pleasures - it's just those pleasures don't often involve people. He likes early 20th century fashion, he likes early 20th century art movements, he likes theater, he participates in it. He does have a pleasant personality, perfectly charming and joyful and teasing - but, he's not 'on' all the time. Or rather, he might not genuinely feel that way unless something or someone actually interests him. He might not be as slutty as everyone thinks he is. He moves like a fucking cryptid when he isn't performing, which is even funnier considering how open he seems to act. He wanted to do so much as Papa, he cared a lot. He had so many ideas, he wanted to take care of his flock and wanted to spread his ideas and cement the Ministry as a real power by opposing all those mindsets that keep holding society back. He was a revolutionary taken out too soon for another agenda at play, which is his true tragedy.

If anything, his charming Papa persona is what draws people in - but it's untouchable, because it's an idea, a face he puts on. Terzo is most likely the mellow, a toned down version of that face. Secondo influenced him, not enough for him to be exactly like him, though, so.

On a very real level - he's sort of like that 'when your circle small but y'all are crazy' meme. He has only a few people who are truly close to him and know what he wants and who he is while everyone else is on the outside looking in. He seems to keep people at bay, even the ones he approaches first. It's the people who either stick around and play along long enough to catch all his little ticks or the ones who saw through it all in the first place who get close to him.

That self hatred and hatred of everyone came a little later, when everything started to not fit into place anymore. He had restrictions on him, he couldn't bring his vision to life - he began to resent that idea. He knew that he was expendable, it was inevitable that he would be gone soon. He was still Papa, he cared, he wanted better for the Ministry. But it was, to a point, all for nothing if he was going to be stifled.

Ambition and hubris being his downfall is just a repetition of every Greek Tragedy we've been told. And much like the Bringer of Light, Terzo was brought down to Hell. Thanks Sister Imperator.

Sorry if some of this sounds a bit silly, it is quite self indulgent and made when I was sleep deprived. But also, I love character analysis and I love Ghost so!

Bonus tidbit: All that talk of separate travel made me think that Terzo might like sightseeing as a fun headcanon. So in my mind he might have a film camera stashed somewhere to take with him. It fits with the idea that he is quite a recluse and takes time to himself, he doesn't need to socialize to go out and see things and take pictures. Of course this is also extrapolated from his nerdy film and art interests. (this part was inspired by a convo with @3hroo)

[morganbritton132]

Eddie goes live two days before he is supposed to leave for his Vegas shows, mainly to remind his fans that they added another night so tickets were available but also to talk about his favorite subject, Steve. He’s all smiles and giddy, sitting in his car.

He looks into the camera and says, “Do you hear that? I don’t know if the speakers are picking up the frankly ear-shattering volume of Tears for Fears emitting from my house right now, but I can hear it in the driveway. I fucking hate this band and Stevie knows it.”

“We are two days out from Vegas and he’s stepped up his passive-aggressive bullshit, so you know what?” Eddie grins. “I’m going to romance him so hard that he can’t keep up the act. So, come along. We’re planning a date.”

Eddie goes to four places – a flower shop, a fancy chocolate store, the grocery store, and Steve’s favorite restaurant for take-out. He gets a big bouquet of flowers. He gets a ridiculous amount of chocolate. He gets the cheesiest romcom he can find on Blu-Ray, a bottle of cheap wine they got when they moved into their first apartment together, and ice cream.

“I know, I know,” He says to camera as he’s walking through the store. “I can see the comments now – Eddie Munson’s idea of romance is the same as your broke ex-boyfriend, or whatever. Steve and I have been together since the eighties, we’ve done all the big grand gestures, and what you learn is that being together is the only thing that matters.”

Eddie drives home and walks into the kitchen where Steve is baking – something he only ever does for school functions and when he’s really pissed off – and he turns off the Tears for Fears album. Steve looks up at Eddie with his chocolate and flowers and says in a voice that is full of barely-concealed anger, “Are those for your best friend, Diane?”

There’s a pause and then Eddie says in a voice that completely drops the Eddie Munson larger-than-life persona that he adopts for online into something instantly annoyed when he says, “Are you fucking kidding me?“

“I don’t know, Ed. Why don’t you text Diane and ask her since you want her to know all of our fucking business.”

You can only see the pattern on Eddie’s reusable grocery bag when he drops everything on the counter, but you can hear how tense it is in the room when Eddie laughs, “You are so fucking unbelievable sometimes. You’re pissed at me because I asked our neighbor for her number that you wouldn’t give to me. I’m taking precautions because I’m leaving town, Steve.”

“Why’d we get a fucking dog then, Eddie?” Steve asked, snapped at him. “I didn’t want a dog but we got one to reassure you. To put your mind at ease and – and it doesn’t fucking matter? You’re still going to go behind my back and talk about my shit to – to fucking Diane like I’m not even a part of the conversation? If Ozzy’s not enough why do we have him? Why not hire a fucking nurse if you think I’m so incapable-“

“I don’t think-“

“You’re treating me like a baby that you need to find a babysitter for.”

“You cracked your skull open and laid on the ground for days the last time I went out of town! You were non-responsive. I thought you were dead. I trust Ozzy. I think he’s enough but what if he’s not? I’m sorry that our neighbors hate you and I had to ask the one you don’t like, but I’m not apologizing for worrying.”

Steve starts to respond but that seems to be the moment that Eddie realizes that he’s still live streaming because it cuts abruptly. He does not post anything for the rest of the day.

When he does post again, it’s a short slideshow of him and Steve having the date night he’d planned and a short little apology for ‘Mom and Dad’ fighting. The video is captioned ‘All good.’

<- Last Post | Next Post ->

[auras-moonstone]

hello there! this is my first time requesting anything so i’m sorry if it comes out too long or i don’t really request it properly hwhshwhsjssh, i just stumbled across your blog and saw you’re a swiftie AND a jack stan too!!! (i already love u for this!!). could we get jack/ethan with a swiftie girlfriend? maybe he got her tickets to see taylor (and if it’s jack, maybe he knows taylor and got into the little celebrity area at the eras tour?) and he tells her he loves her for the first time during “daylight”, because ever since they got together he learnt love is golden 🥺<3 if you’re not up for it, it’s totally cool!! your work is so good :)

hi!! the way i SCREAMED in excitement when i saw this request omg! thank you so much! writing this was honestly heartwarming. i always include some taylor references on my writings because she’s the one that inspires me to write. so, i’m actually really proud and happy of what i did with this little one shot🥺 hope you enjoy it!

it’s golden, like daylight — jack champion

words: 1,307

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: taylor invites jack and y/n to her show, and during one of the surprise songs, jack gets the courage to tell her the three words.

THE FIRST THING JACK THINKS WHEN HE HEARS THE NAME TAYLOR SWIFT IS Y/N. When they met, one of the first thing he noticed about her was that she was a huge swiftie. He took interest in her interests, so now his timeline and his search page was filled with things about the american singer. He even added tons of her songs to his playlist. And if you were to ask him what his favorite album was, he would say Lover. But maybe that’s because—as his girlfriend said—he was in his “Lover Era”.

When Taylor announced she was going on tour, he knew he would do anything to make his girlfriend’s dream come true. Maybe the stars had aligned, maybe it was a coincidence or maybe it was faith, but Taylor Swift knew him, and she also knew that Y/N was a big fan and Jack almost fainted when he saw his Instagram notification. He had kept it from Y/N for a couple of weeks, and it was finally time to reveal it.

Y/N was sitting on the couch, laptop on her lap and you could see the stress and anguish painted on her face. It was clearly someone who was having an awful time on queue.

Jack walked towards her with a smile, and closed her laptop. She started at the device with an expression of shock before setting her eyes on him—if looks could kill, Jack would’ve died on the spot.

“Jack! What the fuck!” she said in a loud angry tone. “You better pray to all the gods that I didn’t lose my queue number, cause I’m going to strangle you” she gritted her teeth as she opened her laptop again.

“You don’t need the queue” Jack simply said, taking her laptop away.

“Jack, please, it’s not the time for your cuddling needs” Y/N said frustrated.

“It’s not that” he laugh, as he took his phone and opened his DMs. He handed the phone to her. “Read it”.

Y/N’s curious eyes took notice of the user on top—Taylor Nation. Her heart skipped a bit, and read the message.

Hey, Jack!

Hope you’re doing well!

Taylor Swift knows your girlfriend, Y/N, is a big fan and she would like to invite you both to her show on Minneapolis, night two!

Please, answer us if you’re available and gives us the address so we can send you the tickets.

The girl stared at the phone in pure shock, not even noticing the tears leaking from her eyes or her shaking hands. She re-read the message hundreds of times, but still felt surreal. Taylor fucking Swift invited HER to her show. Taylor Swift knew who SHE was. Y/N never imagined something like this would ever happen, not even in her wildest dreams.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I wanted it to be a surprise. Also, sorry for making you angry and scaring you with the laptop thing” Jack spoke up.

Y/N grabbed his hand and pull him in, his body landing on top of hers. She hugged his boyfriend tightly. “Is this really happening?” she asked with a broken voice.

“Yes, babe. We are seeing Taylor in a couple of months!”

Y/N sobbed as she hid her face on her boyfriend’s neck. Her wishes became true—she was seeing her favourite artist with her favourite person.

JACK DIDN’T KNOW THAT THE TOUR WOULD BE SUCH AN EXPERIENCE. The concert was still months away, but the excitement was present every single day. Y/N even had a folder on her pinterest called “the eras tour”; in where she had outfits ideas and inspo for friendship bracelets. She also had a list on her phone notes with the surprise songs she would love to get.

“So, what costume are we getting?” Jack asked her while they made friendship bracelets.

“You are getting one too?” Y/N asked surprised.

Jack smiled “Of course! I was thinking of doing couple costumes”

“Yes! Let’s go on pinterest” she said with eagerness.

They spent a couple of minutes searching for a costume they both liked, until they found the perfect one.

“I’m so happy, you don’t even know” she beamed, head on his lap.

“I love seeing you like this. It makes me happy too” Jack grinned, tracing her cheekbones with his fingers.

Y/N lifted her head to kiss him softly “Thanks for putting up with my annoying fan girl ass”.

“Shut up” he laughed against her lips “You say it as if it was something bad. And it isn’t. Like I said, seeing you like this makes me happy too. Besides, I’m actually enjoying this whole ‘the eras’ experience”.

“Well then, I’m glad. What song would you love to hear live?” she wondered.

Jack knew the answer instantly. “Daylight”.

“Jack, oh my god, you have great taste. Why did you choose it?”

“I just like the lyrics” he shrugged.

Lies. Well, of course he liked the lyrics—but more importantly, he understood and felt them. Jack didn’t really know how Taylor came up with the concept that love was golden, but it just made sense to him. Maybe it’s because he had Y/N in his life that he could see why the color fitted just right.

His girlfriend was a literal ray of sunshine, there was no chance of feeling blue whenever she was around. How could he not fall for her? How could he not love her when everything was brighter and shiner—like daylight—ever since she barged into his life with her dazzling smile and heart of gold? She was golden and so was their love.

Love… that was a word they hadn’t say to each other yet. They had been together for almost six months, and he had known he loved her two months ago. But she was his first girlfriend, and he was scared he was going too fast for her liking, so he decided to wait.

Ironic enough, the same thoughts were on Y/N’s mind constantly. Falling in love with him had been as easy as knowing all of the words to her old favourite songs, pun intended. He was sweet, funny, caring, the representation of a golden retriever.

Both had the other completely bewitched, and they didn’t even notice.

THE DAY HAD FINALLY ARRIVED AND Y/N ENTERED THE VENUE WITH SHAKY LEGS. A security guard guided them towards Taylor’s guests area and on their way, a couple of fans waved at them excitingly.

Once they were settled there, the fans started to come their way to say hi and exchange bracelets with them, also receiving a lot of praise for their outfits. They chose the costumes Brandon Urie and Taylor used for the ME! music video. Jack had a dark pink checkered suit and Y/N the glittery pink dress with the big red heart on the middle.

The countdown began and Y/N and Jack screamed her lungs out singing the intro of Miss Americana and Cruel Summer’s bridge. They got all lovey during Lover and Enchanted and danced their heart out to the rest of the set list that was filled with Taylor’s most iconic songs.

Before they knew it, surprise song time came, and Jack’s mouth fell open when he heard the words.

My love was as cruel as the cities I’ve lived in…

“Jack, what the fuck! You literally manifested it!” Y/N laughed. Jack laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist, her back pressed against his front and Jack’s chin rested on the top of her head.

I once believed love would be black and white… but it’s golden, like daylight.

If that wasn’t a sign, then Jack didn’t know what else it could be. But he was going to tell her, he felt a little more brave…fearless.

“I love you, Y/N” he whispered on her ear, as Taylor continued to sing the song that, in that moment, became theirs.

Y/N turned her head to the side, their lips brushing. The corners of her mouth lifted and she looked at him with eyes filled with love and adoration. “I love you too, Jack”.

liked by taylorswift, taylornation, jackchampion, and 16,987 others.

y/n.y/l/n i once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden like daylight 💓 i love you forever and ever jackchampion

jackchampion that’s our song, love. i love you to the moon and to saturn 💕

jennaortega best couple ever

masonthegooding you two are disgustingly cute

baileybass omg you finally said the l-word!!!

y/n.y/l/n baileybass yes!! he said it during daylight😫💕

jackslover SO THATS WHY JACK SAID “THAT’S OUR SONG” OH GOD THIS IS CUTE

jamieflatters and they say romance is dead

misstrinitybliss i love you both 🥺🫶🏻

taylornation that’s a real fucking legacy

[theygotlost]

come play venture bros postcanon tuoys with me? :)

hank isnt interested in higher education or a full time career and he literally wrote down his dream job as "drifter". I see him taking up a lot of odd jobs and sporadic minimum wage stuff but really i believe he was meant for the stage. shallow gravy never makes it big time but they get like the weirdest most random gigs ever and eventually they release a full album and everyone fucking hates it and hank gets called a nepo baby. which is true. but going beyond the music hank is always dressing up and playing characters and ofc there was the time he called himself destiny and refused to take off the strength suit you see where im going with this YEP Destiny is his drag name. and im imagining destiny playing shallow gravy gigs so she'd have a kinda gothy alternative amy lee aesthetic going on and she would slay.

in case you havent noticed I hateee that dermott joined OSI it just feels forced and his buzzcut is ugly. dont worry though I can fix this. the thing about dermott is that he talks a big game but in reality is a pathetic loser. it's like that episode of malcolm in the middle where reese joins the army but crumbles as soon as he's faced with combat training. dermott either drops out or gets kicked out for doing something stupid but either way they probably have to wipe his memory and its like it never happened. outside of shallow gravy i see him doing random blue collar stuff and like... riding dirtbikes and shit. also he was probably lying about having a pilots license but idk maybe he does have one. i think he should have one

dean says he doesnt know what he wants to do with his future so his major at stuyvesant is probably still undeclared rn... but remember that for a while his dream job was "boy reporter" and he even printed that adorable little home newspaper so that points to a career in journalism. in the second half of the show dean's vibe is "im probably transgender but there are supervillains trying to kill me so i don't have time to worry about that right now" and being able to have a (relatively) normal college experience away from home around people her own age would be the final push she needs to start transitioning. also i have this vivid image in my mind of dawn becoming a photographer and i have no idea where it came from but that would fit well with the reporter stuff and she could be a photojournalist! but I also see her being interested in fashion photography and doing all of destiny's glamour shots and stuff so that's her hobby that does outside of work .and she NEEEDS to be an obnoxious twee amateur photographer living in NYC she deserves it she's earned it !!!!!

triana's probably an accomplished sorceress by now!! goddd i miss triana i just want her back. idk if she would move to new york permanently but she would come visit her dad and get to hang out with dawn again. and she's realized shes a lebian and they get back together PLEASEE? :3 im not really sure what she would do with her sorcery powers but I guess she could be a low level superhero? she wouldn't be interested in anything crazy like saving the world but she would have fun busting up low level bank robbers and classic stuff like that and she and jared could hang out. or perhaps she's available for hire and will do magic stuff for whoever

[ficjoelispunk]

Ch 09 - INFORMATION

You can find all the available chapters here

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You wake up in the morning, feeling Javier's hands pull your body closer to his, feeling his warm chest warm your bare back, while his lips dance over the skin of your back. You press yourself against him already hard, sliding over your already wet middle, with parts of him in you from last night.

Javier loves the idea of having parts of him in you. You're his.

"Good morning" Javi whisper in your ear.

"Hmmm, what time is it?" You still ask with your eyes closed, hoarse.

"Early" his voice in the morning could become your favorite sound.

You bite your lips. Javier slides inside you easily. He moans. Passing your hand over your abdomen, your hand meets his, you intertwine your fingers.

"I can get used to it"

"You'd better get used to it"

Javier fucks you slowly, different this time. It's calm, attentive, intense. You feel him fill you and linger inside you as if he belonged to you. As if he needed to be inside you, not wanting to separate from you.

You go back to the base together. And you follow different paths.

You go to your room, change your clothes, get better. And then you goes back to your desk, where you finds an accumulation of service.

Spend the morning distracted trying to put everything in order, while some people, co-workers, pass by to greet you and ask how you are.

Javier is not at his table. You focus on your work. You didn't talk about what you have, how you look, or what that meant. You assumed it would be a very big step for Agent Peña.

And you weren't too worried. You had a lot of reports to do. You needed to know about the matter. It was all a mess.

***

After leaving you in the hallway of the dorms, with a kiss on your temple. Javier begins to rethink whether this proximity to you is something he should really keep. He didn't want something serious. But it seems that he felt the duty to be with you after you were rescued. Something like, him being responsible and wanting to reward you for what you went through.

But there was also something he didn't identify, and tried to repress. Something he didn't want to name. He liked you. He always wanted you. But he didn't want you in the middle of this mess that was his life. You would be at risk. You were already at risk. He had a lot of things to think about instead of focusing on your safety.

Javier secretly left the base, without warning Murphy or anyone, going to the cafeteria where he met Don Berna that day he found out he was with you.

He needed to get things right. And he would know that being there, at one time or another he would show up. And he wasn't wrong. Even before Javier finish the first cigarette. Don Berna showed up.

"You found your girl"

Javier was leaning against the counter, he didn't turn to see him.

"No thanks to your help"

"Is she okay?"

Javier laughed sarcastically.

"What do you want? What do you mean by that?" Javier stared at him.

"I want to help you"

"Is it really?" He pretended to surprise "kidnapped the ambassador's assistant?"

"Is that all she is to you?"

Javier didn't answer.

"Come with me, I'll show you"

Javier reflected. You should again trust a man who had deceived him, in parts. But he had nothing to lose. So, it was.

They followed a noble side of Medellin, a large and chic house, a mansion. Full, full of heavily armed men. There were about 20 or more men.

"Feel at home"

Don Berna indicated a staircase to an underground floor.

Javier didn't believe what he saw when he saw it.

There were only the Castaño brothers.

Javier couldn't keep his mouth shut. He was shocked. Seeing in front of him criminals he was chasing.

Judy Moncada showed up.

"Agent Peña, welcome to Montecassino"

Javier accompanied Mrs. Moncada on a table, where there were many photos scattered.

"Some of your acquaintances?"

"It looks like you opened a family album"

"Let me tell you something. Before this son of a bitch" she indicated Pablo in one of the photos "kill my husband, we were all friends, what do you think of that?"

"I think you made new friends" Javier tilted his chin out indicating the Castaño brothers

"Let's say we have a common goal, which is the same as your Agent Peña"

"Really?" Javier was ironic.

"Yes"

He smiles sarcastically.

"You must be kidding me" he turns walking towards the stairs.

Don Berna comes in front him.

“Just listen to what she has to say," he stops Javier.

"Or we can get your girlfriend to encourage your to listen" Judy exceeded a limit.

Javier's nerves pull in his face.

So that's why they kept you. They wanted to use you to blackmail him.

He turned around pointing his finger at Mrs. Moncada.

"If you pull over..."

"Cálmate" Judy smiled interrupting.

Carlos Castaño got up from the chair where he was sitting, and walked calmly towards Javier as he spoke.

“I met your girlfriend, I learned that she has a hard temper, it caused damage to the face of the heir of the Cali Cartel...”

Javier just tried to absorb the information. So it means that the three men you didn’t know how to identify were part of the Cali cartel, and one of them was either the son of Gilberto, or Miguel.

Carlos Castaño again caught Javier’s attention, after realizing that Javier had been lost in his thoughts.

"You want to catch Escobar as much as we do, but we're not going to lie, you couldn't even get close to him" the man rises walking towards Javier "your girlfriend got closer to him than you" mocked. "And the only asset you had for this was Carrillo who is dead," challenged Carlos Castaño.

"So… you're taking the time to set the villages on fire?"

"We compensate for the absence of the government," Castaño explained.

"We will kill everyone who is next to Escobar until he is alone. There's only one small problem," Judy said.

Javier arches his eyebrows pretending to be surprised.

"Just one?" Javier is ironic.

"To catch it we need the satellite technology that you have, and that your girl authorizes"

He smiles sarcastically.

"And do you think she would give that to you?"

"You can convince her" Judy looks down at Javier's body.

For the first time he feels the same as maybe one day you felt when he provoked you. Javier's jaw was locked.

"Leave her out of it, she has nothing to do with it"

"She has everything to do with it. We have already worked together, Agent Peña. Have you never stopped to think about what your girlfriend would look like when she knew you were involved with the same people who took her for a walk?"

Javier's breathing became irregular.

"All the information he gave you" she pointed to Don Berna "came from me"

Javier looked over his shoulders.

"Let's just make a small adjustment. If you don't tell me, I won't tell you either"

Javier took a step towards Judy, facing her, reaching for the whiskey glass behind her. As a provocation. He danced him eyes for her, so close to her.

"Gacias por la bebida" Javier said.

And he left, going up the stairs.

Don Berna came out behind.

"That's very stupid," Javier said while pulling a drink of his cigarette, already in the courtyard where the cars were parked.

"The Castaño brothers serve us for a purpose"

"I was talking about you"

"Javier, I'm a drug trafficker. And I work with loyalty, just like you. Not Pablo. If I were you, I'd be smart. If your girl is back. When Pablo picks her up, she won't come back. Wouldn't it be better if he was dead once and for all?"

Don Berna was correct, and Javier knew. If you had been taken by Pablo, Javier would never see you again.

“Why was she with the Cali cartel?”

“She wasn’t, sorry about that, but that’s not the case, it’s business Javier, just business”

Javier stared at Don Berna as he left to pick up the car to take Javier away.

Judy opened the door behind him.

"¿No me ofreces un cigarrillo?"

Javier stood still for a moment. Serving indifference. But he reached the pack, and lit the woman's cigarette.

"Well, we want you to understand Agent Peña, the potential of the proposal we are making to you. Because with all the information in the world you need to act like a policeman, right? Especially now that your girlfriend can find out about your involvement with the Cartel. I know what it's like when Pablo kills someone close to you. I wouldn't want you to feel that way too, once again..."

Peña faces Judy. It was the end for him. These people wouldn't think twice if they had to deliver your head on a tray. Peña has never felt so cornered.

Judy held a paper for Javier.

"¿Qué es eso?" He asked.

"Very valuable information for you, get it"

He takes the paper.

An address that indicates the place where the girl Gabriela made Javier listen to, and provided Pablo's address, on the day you were rescued and the ambush happened.

"The girl who cheated on you and caused Carrillo's death"

Javier got in the car back to the city.

Not knowing what to think. Not knowing what to do with the information he obtained. Not knowing what to do to protect you. Not knowing if he should once and for all tell you everything that happened. Not knowing if he could share this kind of thing with you. Not knowing if it was safe.

***

After basically a week focused on organizing as much work as you could.

Your mind was reassuring, you don't leave the base for absolutely nothing. Your co-workers always offered to buy some things when they left, and you took advantage of the help. You was too afraid to leave where you clung to being a safe place.

The focus on work was so great that you met Javier only during work. And he didn't say anything to you other than what was necessary and about the work. Sometimes you thought it was because he were really very busy, but sometimes you felt like a burden where he felt obliged to perhaps have shown a responsibility for you, which now he no longer wanted to support. Because it was hard to believe that he would simply pretend that nothing happened, between you and him, or just with you.

It was hard to believe he was that cold. Or that he really didn’t feel anything.

So you didn't go after Javier. You didn't want him to think you were in need. That after what happened you would need care. You didn't want to look weak. So you swallowed everything inside you. The fears. The memories. And it sank into the deepest hole inside you. And you pretended. You pretended everything was fine.

Anyway, Pablo was still on the loose. Protected by the army of sicarians. In a city that refused to deliver it. He was free. And the trafficking continued. Life went on.

Nothing new under the sun.

With some free time, you began to analyze the records of the ambush in which you were fatally present, reading the paperwork, analyzing requirements, trying to build a timeline. And it became increasingly clear that it had been a coup.

But unlike Pablo, life wasn't going on for you. Something didn't fit for you. Why did they kidnap you? You weren't an important one. It didn't make sense.

You analyzed Centra Spike's information collections, cataloged and sent the possible approvals to Bogotá. But you still had a flea behind your ear.

"Steve" you ran after the tall, blond white man for the first time down the hallway.

"Hey" he didn't stop to answer you "everything okay?"

You sighed, pressing the step to be able to accompany him.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." You ran after him.

He smiled but didn't say anything to you.

"Actually, there are some reports missing that you should have given me for me to evaluate," you smiled amicably.

"Really?" He didn't look at you.

"Really." You answered half-closing your eyes.

He looked at you quickly.

"Must be with Javi"

Javier to people who were avoiding you, and you who were just trying not to look like a neurotic in the head. You didn't want to talk to him.

"Right, could you please..."

"Here, why you don't talk directly to him"

Wonderful.

You bumped into Javier, walking too fast to catch up with Steve, and stop in time not to run over Javier.

He holds your body, inside his firm arms. And he closes a straight line with his lips, looking at Steve with disapproval, moving away from you in the hallway.

"All yours" you hear Steve speak with his voice far away.

"Sorry" you straighten up, adjusting your skirt.

There was no denying that you were really nervous about this meeting. Nervous, embarrassed, uncomfortable. It seemed like Javier was making a great effort being there in front of him.

Javi pulls you to the side of the corridor, leaning one arm on the wall, and the other on the waist, nodding to you, as he ran his eyes to people, without looking at you.

It didn't look like the same Javier who said goodbye to you that morning with a kiss. The change of treatment was very confusing.

"I need the reports that are with you”

He looks at you.

"What reports?"

"I think some reports on Carrillo's latest operations and my search are missing"

Javier turns your shoulder to the corridor slowly pushing you for you to walk.

You look at him over your shoulders, frowning, confused.

He takes his hand down to your back.

"They are not missing"

"What do you mean?"

"The case is closed, we file"

You couldn't contain a surprised laugh.

"The case is not closed"

Javi looks at you.

And you stop.

He closes his eyes. And it turns to you.

"I need to analyze them. And send it to Bogotá"

"They're already there"

"But I..."

"Don't worry about it" he looks over your head "I need to go" and leaves, going the opposite way from yours.

"Agent Peña" you raise a tone.

And he ignores it.

You sigh and hit your foot on the ground.

That wasn't right. Not even here. Not even in Bogotá.

Shit.

***

Peña didn't know how much longer he would have avoided this from you. He knew what you were like. And you were getting close. You would discover the information hole.

The pile of files on Carillo's desk only increased. He was accumulating information in his hand, without being able to use it.

So he was going to act.

He used Judy's information. And it was even the girl who cheated on him.

"I didn't know. I didn't know. They lied to me. Please."

"It's breaking my fucking heart, baby" he said while handcuffing the girl.

"No. No. They're going to kill me. No"

"Quiet!" He screams.

Dragging the girl out of the apartment taken by an anger he can't control. He thought that finding her would have a relief for getting revenge. But no.

The girl argued.

"What are we going to do with her?" Trujillo questioned.

Javier thought. And with her help, he was able to locate Limón. Which took him to one of Pablo's distribution points. Who took him to Velasco.

Peña called the base.

Your extension rang.

"It's me" the voice that wouldn't need to be announced "I need you to authorize a request"

"What request?"

"I need reinforcements"

Your heart stopped.

"Where are you? Are you hurt? What's going on?"

"I'm with Trujillo on 38th street with 24"

"What's going on? Are you in confrontation?"

"No. Listen to me."

"I'm listening to you"

"I need support"

"For what reason if you're not in confrontation?"

"A trusted person from Escobar has just entered a building"

"Peña..."

You hear him sigh.

"Come back. Let me know the location. I'm going to make the request for Bogotá"

"I'm here now"

You shake your head.

"Sorry, I can't authorize sending the patrols"

"Of course"

He hung up.

Peña and Trujillo stood guard watching. That's when he saw Velasco and Limón outside.

"Fuck, it's Velasco!"

"What are we going to do, Peña? How many men do you think are in there?"

"I don't know, I think too many for both of us"

"We would be screwed"

Peña is silent.

"Son of a bitch, we should go back and ask for reinforcements"

Javier dials the number he spent days looking at. Fuck. He wouldn't miss this opportunity. You were already safe. He would use the cards he had.

"Who are you calling?" Trujillo asks.

The brothers Castaño and Don Berna, along with a small team from the paramilitary army, invaded the address, and managed to capture Velasco.

But none of this went to the records.

"Is this how we're going to act now, Peña?"

"Don't worry. It won't happen anymore" what was another lie in the midst of many?!

"I'm not worried"

But Trujillo was. Javier knew he could trust him. Anyway, he wasn’t sure what had happened there.

Velasco's capture did not go to DEA, it went to Montecassino. The information that Velasco presented was from Pablo's accountants, which they would have access to.

Don Berna didn't give any such information to Javier.

At Javier's next meeting with Don Berna, he made it clear.

"There are the rules of the game, we will only kill armed people, the sicarians. I will not give you any information about the shipments or laboratories. It's not about helping Judy, it's about killing Pablo. And you’re not going to involve the Assistant in this, do you understand?"

Peña knew that the information he gave to Don Berna was already bearing fruit. The Castaño brothers were efficient. But they weren't discreet. Javier didn't care about that.

After all, who would pay attention to some sicaários being killed in the homicide capital of the world?

You.

You would be good.

***

Javier ignored you for days. Always showing too busy. And honestly you weren't willing to beg for affection. That actually only distanced you. It sank you even deeper into the emptiness that what happened to you had thrown you.

Did you sleep at night? No. Was there a growing fear that at any moment someone would enter your dorm and drag you out? Yes. Did you wake up sweaty scared always tormented by nightmares? Yes. Could you eat quietly? No. You danced the cutlery in the middle of the food, always remembering the exotic dishes that were distributed to you. Sometimes in the bath, you rubbed yourself so much that your skin was hurt with the force you played in a failed attempt to clean something from you that you didn't even know exactly what it was.

All you needed was a care. A comfort. Something that could bring you back to normal life. Something that would make you forget that you went through what you went through. And you only found that at work. It was something automatic. It was as if an emptiness was swallowing you little by little.

You were alone. She felt alone even when she was surrounded by people.

***

You were aware that the new colonel who would take Carrillo's place was Martinez.

You participated in some meetings. And he knew what would be the attempts that Martinez would make to give a new direction in operations. He would not trust any information received after what happened to Carrillo. And you were aware that this would make the work of Agents Murphy and Peña even more difficult.

You were hardly wrong. You witnessed an episode of barbs exchanged by Murphy and Peña, as soon as Colonel Martinez reported that the search group would act by quadrant.

"This is outdated"

"We acted the other way around and you saw what happened"

Peña closed his jaw.

"Do you think he might be able to catch Pablo?"

You listened to both of them talking from their tables.

"I don't know, maybe he won't surprise us"

"Okay. Searches by quadrant then"

Javier marched hard.

And you went after it.

You followed some news of murders that took place in the mouths of the cartels. But what drew attention was one in particular.

The address was the same that Peña gave you on the phone that day he called asking for reinforcements.

Coincidence?

You didn't believe that. So it went deeper. You Followed all the news. And just out of curiosity, you decided to check the records you had about possible points that were centers of the cartels.

And oddly enough. All the points were attacked.

You grabbed the lapel of Javier's jacket as soon as he passed through the hallway.

"Wow! Is this all longing?"

"Shut up. Come with me."

"Yes, ma'am"

There was no way Javier could deny that you were out of your mind these last few days. He knew you were suffering. You were traumatized. But he couldn't be close to you. What if something happened to you again? He needed to untie the idea that you were eventually a weak point of his. Or that you would participate in anything that involved Montecassino.

He also didn't want to have the responsibility of being the reason if something happened to you. He couldn't have the luxury of being with you and losing you again. He's already had that. And he wouldn't go through that again. The distance was something safe. For you and for him.

But even so, Javier followed you to the file room, with other intentions. And apparently by your attitudes, Javier understood that you wanted something casual since you didn't talk to him at any other time, you didn't look for him. After all, if you had looked for him, after all these days, it should be for a reason. And as much as he wanted to keep you safe, away from him, you call him to the file room, it could only be for that reason.

As soon as you passed through the door, he pushed you on the wall, holding your arms above your head, sliding a hand down the side of your body, sliding his fingers on your breasts, while running his lips through your neck.

You felt uncomfortable. Flashbacks came to your mind. You froze.

"Agent Peña"

"Hermosa"

Your breathing got heavy. Your head couldn't stop thinking about the information you had collected. And now at that moment, Javier was causing you a certain repulsion.

"Peña"

He kissed your jaw, pressing his hand on your chest. Even though you were not comfortable at all, it was amazing how your body reacted involuntarily to it.

But your brain was about to explode with so much contradiction.

"Peña!"

"What?" He walked away from you, looking at you.

Seeing your expression. Your face with an uncomfortable expression. He slowly let go of your arms, and moved away from you.

You fixed your skirt and your shirt.

"What?"

You wouldn't waste time. Being in his presence was a little painful now. When he just ignored you for days, when you just needed a friend, or a distraction, or anything.

"Do you have anything to do with the attacks that are happening with the sicists?"

Javier stood motionless for a minute looking at you. Allowing yourself some time to understand who he was dealing with. Oh, yeah, you!

Your intelligent and detailed, observant and curious mind. He should know that nothing would be beaten by you, not if you wanted to. And he should be prepared for this moment, if he was not too busy, acting behind the back of the American Government, and behind your back.

"No."

"No?" You were sinic.

"No." Javier didn't sketch any emotion.

You walked from one side to the other, with one arm crossed in front of your body, and the other leaning on it, with your hands thoughtful on your face.

Javier put his hands on his waist while watching your theater.

"Curious... because the address you gave me asking for reinforcements was attacked on the same day"

Javier shrugged.

"That's why we must act fast, before another interested party finds the point, and it's a file"

He took a step up to you, hitting his hand on your back.

"Maybe now you will learn that when I ask for reinforcements I need at that moment"

He was going to leave the room.

You held the latch.

“I've not finished yet”

He snorted, throwing his head back.

"What do you want?"

"May you tell me the truth"

"Don't be so naive"

"All the points we had recorded in the inventory are being attacked one by one. In a very curious order of the list, being the same as the registration"

Javier arched his eyebrows and twisted his lips. Throwing his arms up, dropping next to his body.

"And?"

You smile sarcastically.

"Javi, listen to me" you stepped in his direction, and spoke carefully, with concern "I know you want Pablo's head, we all want it. But that's not how we're going to get it, if you're passing on information from within the..."

Javier grabs your arm. You get scared by the aggressive movement.

"Listen to me!" He sounds aggressive too, leaning over you "Why don't you take care of your service and let me take care of my? Huh? How about that?"

Your eyes analyze his face. You were frightened by the way he held your arm. The way he talked to you. Your body was shaking. He lets you go abruptly. You were stiff. Scared. Your irregular breathing.

Your arm goes up to the place where his fingers squeezed you.

Javier realized that he acted aggressively with you. He had a lot on his mind. He couldn't think straight for weeks.

"I know what you're doing, Agent Peña, and you'd better stop now, before these lunatics lose control and something worse happens. You know what Pablo does when we act impulsively and give him room for him to retaliation. And I really" you emphasized the last word and repeated it "really, I would hate for something to happen."

Javier looked at you from top to bottom.

"You don't know anything" he left the room, slamming the door as if he wanted to close it forever.

You closed your eyes. And you sighed. The silence echoed in the emptiness that existed inside you.

Javier needed air. Air. He would never be able to hide anything from you. And it was more than clear. The only way out of this he could think of. It was attacking you. He saw the fear in your eyes when he acted aggressively. This path he was choosing would possibly have no return. It was the fastest and easiest way he knew and was used to pushing someone away. Use your own fears against them. But listening to you being frank and patient with him even after he was purposely aggressive with you burned his heart.

And then what you predicted happened.

Velasco appeared hanged in a square in some neighborhood of Medellin, with a message tied to his body.

“Estás con los días contactos Pablo. Nadie estará a salvo de su lado. Ass. Los Pepes"

[terrainofheartfelt]

Gossip Girl Appreciation Week | Day 6: AU

The Grossly Indulgent Pop Music AU I will never write:

Inspired by one of the only Jonerys fics I like. 

Not quite a fic, but not not a fic, here’s an unhinged idea that grabbed hold and wouldn’t let me go. The music is a loose jumping off point of inspiration, in that all the characters have one or two artist equivalents. I use their music as the characters’ work in this universe. So it’s like an AU of pop musicians’ lives, but not really, since I don’t know their biographies, just their music. It’s fanfic, you know how it is.

Enclosed beneath the cut you shall find: dairfair, negatively painted jenny/damien & chair, some positive jenate, and a inkling at my newest ot3 vanessa/aaron/serena. And lots of opaque music references.

image sources: (x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

Blair and Serena come up in a lab-grown pop girl group in their teens (sample track here), but break off for their own solo acts after a few years. They have a friend breakup after that. Diss tracks are written. (Inspo: Honey & Bad Blood) the final (supposedly) proverbial nail in the coffin of their friendship is when Blair marries record label exec Chuck Bass.

(Needless to say, Chuck is a piece of shit. Living off family money and power, using his title to back young women artists into a corner. Blair thinks she conquered the beast by putting a ring on it but, well, you know.) (While Jenny Humphrey is coming up she’s one of the artists Chuck harasses. She refuses to sign with his label and tells him to fuck off.)

The rumors as to why their girl group break up run wild, and they mutate with each tabloid run, growing more and more ridiculous, but, like many rumors, they did spring from a small seed of truth. 

Blair was ambitious, and always used the act as an opportunity to set herself up for a solo career. Serena was her best friend, but whereas Blair had to work hard at everything that came with this job, it was like Serena didn’t have to try at all. She was the darling of the interviews, of the fans. The favorite on the covers of magazines and music videos. Serena was getting solo offers since their debut, but turned them down, until she didn’t. 

Their group toured with a team of dancers, also all carefully selected by the label. Nate Archibald was one of the fan favorites, and the label quickly paired him and Blair together for publicity. Blair was always just a little more invested than Nate was. He wasn’t even sure if this career, this lifestyle was what he wanted, but Blair was more than sure, was constantly working to get ahead. But the label kept them together, until they figured they could pair Nate with Serena instead. (And Nate didn’t fight it, because he’d always carried a torch for Serena anyway).

It wasn’t the first fight between the friends, nor the last, but it was the big frisson that they couldn’t come back from. The group held on for another album, but it was clear that they couldn’t go on. Blair and Serena signed solo contracts, and Blair got close with Chuck Bass, and that was the final straw for Serena. 

Nate tried to stay friends with both of them through it, but he was also coming to the conclusion that he didn’t want to keep up this lifestyle. He quit performing to go to school, and he found his niche teaching dance to kids—not at a university level, not with the intention to make future professionals, but just to young people looking for something to love. It suits him, and he becomes a reality check for his two high profile best friends. Or he tries to be, but their lives keep pulling them away from New York, so he sees them less and less.

(The other two members of the group move on to other adjacent things. Kati founds her own fashion label—available in Targets everywhere!—and Iz becomes a judge on one of those America’s Got It Factor Talent Shows).

Post girlgroup, Serena runs a Kesha-like life, pop hits made for club dancing. Her character is much more glittering and reckless than Serena might prefer to be, but she’s in the game so long that it sort of – becomes her from time to time.

Serena works tirelessly, keeps trying to break out of her brand of the out of control party girl, but her label, the one she was brought up on, founded by her maternal grandfather, wants her to keep making what sells. Her brother Eric tries to fight her corner, but he’s only a junior employee. After a handful of solo albums and years of endless touring, she burns out. Eric gives her a place to be and rest, and she tries to figure out what the hell she’s going to do. She wants to make more music, but of what?

Blair is taylor-esque, clinging to her brand of The Good Girl from her teen career into adulthood. The reputation and her general effervescence add sparkle to the Bass brand, clean it up a little. It’s a symbiotic business relationship, until it isn’t. 

Chuck progressively tries to exercise more control over the music she puts out, to the point that Blair just…doesn’t. Her last album under the Bass label is the one she released with tracks that allude to their relationship, her victory lap for landing the billionaire bachelor whale, as it were (Style, Wildest Dreams, Wonderland, I Know Places). She’s more clever than some give her credit. For example, the tongue-in-cheek “Blank Space” belies an artistic self-awareness. Which is why, even though they aren’t in the same genres, Jenny Humphrey respects her. 

Speaking of Jenny: the Humphreys!

Rufus Humphrey, frontrunner of the early 90s outfit Lincoln Hawk, enjoyed a good run when his kids were little, then a less lucrative run as a solo artist, before he finally settled into producing. He runs a small, proud independent label with his old bandmate, and they pride themselves on supporting talent that the bigger corporate labels pass over. Both his kids, Dan and Jenny, make music with him. 

They grew up playing piano, then graduated to guitar, then spiraled on from there. Dan joins his first band when he’s sixteen, playing keys for his best friend’s big sister’s band. Ruby Abrams and her bandmates affectionately call him an honorary lesbian, and after gigging with them for about a year, Dan comes out as bi. (his three sisters: Jenny, Vanessa, and Ruby, are already out)

His best friend Vanessa is also a musician. She tries to go the classical route, wanting to usurp her parents’ and her sister’s expectations, but ultimately finds her happy in the indie folk niche that Rufus curates. (Think Lucy Daucus & Maya Hawke) Vanessa’s favorite instrument is bass, but she can find her way around a keyboard or guitar. 

Jenny is the real prodigy, though. She has her guitars and piano and even a mandolin, but she’s restless at sticking to just one sound, so she experiments with them all. Fulfilling, absolutely, but it’s a long time before she puts out a full length record. 

Dan and Jenny’s parents break up while the kids are in college. With Rufus touring as much as he was when they were young, Alison did the heavy lifting raising them, and now that they’re grown she kind of – has a Mom Drop. She moves back home to the Bay Area, and Dan ends up following her to California, needing to get out of New York and get some distance from his dad. 

Jenny stays in New York, taking classes, making music. She starts dating a much older artist—he’s not on her dad’s label (which is part of the appeal) —but he has a complimentary sound. After the mess that was her model gf Agnes, Jenny is hoping for something steadier, but that’s not what it becomes. Being with Damien Dalgaard, darling of the Guy with Guitar genre, ends up being more of a mindfuck. (John Mayer. Damien’s basically John Mayer.)

Rufus tries to put his foot down (even though Jenny’s an adult) and Vanessa tries to help, but it’s one of those things where the toxic relationship just has to run its course, even if it puts Jenny into major spotlight for the first time. It’s rough on her, but she makes it through and out of the relationship. And, at least she comes out of it with enough material to graduate from EPs and make for her first full length album: Badlands.

Jenny starts out this au Halsey-like, but evolves her sound back to her rock folk indie origins, a sound like Julien Baker. 

Meanwhile, Dan tries his luck as a musician on the West Coast, immersing himself in the scene there. He joins the roster of another band, and has enough skill to make income as a session musician to cover the difference, which leads him to another band. He still tries writing, but he’s so busy making other people’s music come alive that he doesn’t get far. 

At one concert or another he bumps into Serena van der Woodsen. She’s fun, and smart, and stupid hot, and more miraculously, she is into him. They date for a while, but her life in the spotlight as a partying popstar gets more and more chaotic, and Dan can’t keep up, and he’s not really sure he wants to. The break up amicably, but it still stings enough to generate some songs, ones he doesn’t have time to record. 

He keeps dating around. Serena sets him up with one of her friends, an actor, Carter Baizen, but he works so much too that it doesn’t go anywhere at the time. And then, there’s Georgina,

At the beginning, Georgina the heiress from Bel-Air just seems like another in a line of innocuous bad decisions Dan’s made since moving to LA. She’s crazy, but she’s hot, and fun, and it’s a good time until it fizzles out. 

Then, months later, when Dan’s offered a spot in a backup band for someone, Georgina shows up at his door, pregnant. 

The Milo plot unfolds, Dan steps away from his music, works only on what will pay bills and keep life stable for the baby. Georgina flakes, and flakes, until she doesn’t, until she decides to tell Dan the truth about Milo’s paternity and take him with her, all the way back to her parent’s mansion in Connecticut. 

After everything, his parents, Serena, Georgina, everything going on with Jenny, Dan just kind of…breaks. He deflates, struggles, holes up in his crummy apartment on the eastside of Los Angeles until Vanessa bullies him into coming back to New York. 

Being around each other again helps the Humphrey siblings reset. Jenny is already promoting Badlands, and Dan becomes her roadie, proudly cheering her on from the sidelines, even while the contents of her lyrics are absolutely gutting. 

He keeps trying and failing to write, until both V and Jen tell him that he’s trying too hard to “make it into something.” Jenny just tells him to write and see what comes out, and however it sounds, it sounds. 

 So he does. It’s not quite the folk his mother raised them on, or the 90s rock of their dad, or the punk that Dan’s been a support player in all these years. It’s softer than that, but more jagged too. But he plays a demo for Jenny and Vanessa and keeps on going. 

Jenny is a big believer in using songwriting as some sort of “exorcist.” Spit out all the bad shit, pour it into a song, put it into a vessel that doesn’t hurt you anymore. Dan’s style is a little bit different from his sister’s. She’s braver than he is – is okay to take her emotion and throw it out into her singing, but Dan thinks he might not be that tough. 

For example, the stuff about Milo, Dan can’t even say it directly. He writes about it sure, but it comes out a mess, until he’s not sure if he’s talking about himself, or Milo, or even Georgina. He can’t even bring himself to mention either of them by name, just names a song after an approximation. Georgia. He also writes his first of many storytelling songs: You Missed My Heart.

He gets enough positivity from the demo for a record deal, and the leading single, Motion Sickness, does better than Dan thought it would. He says it has to be because there’s more residual interest in one of Serena van der Woodsen’s exes than he thought. Jenny and Vanessa share a look, because he really is that good though. 

And after years of work behind the curtain, Dan Humphrey is getting vested interest in his own songs, and what’s more, he’s written something worth singing. Stranger in the Alps launches an entirely new phase of his career, and, as it turns out, his personal life. 

Blair doesn’t travel in the circles of the mid-level artist, but at a festival, purely by chance, she ends up in Dan Humphrey’s car. 

It’s not Dan’s first festival gig, but this is definitely the biggest, and the best spot he’s ever gotten in a lineup. The true sign that he’s on the up and up, though, is that he’s provided transportation. 

After sound check before his gig, he’s herded back to his car, to go back to his hotel before he goes on later tonight.

But then this girl gets in with him. 

Blair had had it with her handler (her husband’s goon), and paparazzi were starting to catch the scent—as far as the public knew, she still had the perfect fairytale dream marriage—so she co-opted this nobody indie guy’s ride as her getaway car. 

Dan’s bewildered, and irritated, but also kind of charmed. It’s a nice break in the routine, accidentally kidnapping a princess of pop. 

He invites her to see his set, which she scoffs at, but she googles him as soon as she’s back in her hotel room. And then, she pulls strings so she can watch his set from backstage. (He covers “I’m on Fire,” and she absolutely does not think that it’s hot). 

They have a drink in the green room after, and don’t stop talking until a festival staff person kicks them out because the venue’s shutting down for the night. 

AND SO IT BEGINS. 

She arranges for him to see her headlining set, and then after, she asks him what he thought, and he tells her. Like, actually tells her. She’s a good artist, with talent, but she keeps dumbing it down, and why? 

He essentially says she’s better than this, and she tells him to fuck off, and tells him that just because not every single one of my songs is about angsting alone on the bedroom floor doesn’t make me shallow, Humphrey. (and that’s his Moment.)

She’d been after compliments, some vague idea that he’d be blown away by how good she is, and she’d get a positive review for once. Which is so stupid, why should she even care what a nobody like Dan Humphrey thinks?

But he is not a nobody, not anymore.

She looks him up after the festival. His star is definitely rising. A child of nepotism, his father was in a popular band in the late 80s and early 90s, and so Dan and his little sister grew up close to the business. Humphrey’s been in a couple bands since he was sixteen (started young like her), but after those broke up, and a couple lost years that google can’t account for, he released a solo album and just like that, people are paying attention, beyond just the indie bubble. 

Blair recognizes his sister, Jenny Humphrey, and even has one of her albums saved in her library. Not something Blair would make, but it’s decent. 

She digs a little more, trying to figure out those lost years, but comes up empty. She does find, however, that Humphrey famously dated Serena a few years back, Google is rife with paparazzi photos of them in LA. And he accused her of making shallow music? Serena’s solo work is nothing but her belting about parties and drugs and sex to heavy beats. Club music. Music to have parties, drugs, and sex, too. 

Finding out his history with Serena is enough for Blair to write off Dan Humphrey as a hack, an aberration. A way to pass the time at a festival gig and distract herself from her own life. 

But, Blair finds Dan Humphrey is becoming increasingly unavoidable. He’s doing one talk show appearance while she’s at another studio a few floors up. He’s moved back to New York, he tells her, just until he goes on tour again. He invites her to a show, at some dive in Brooklyn she’s never heard of. For that, she nearly doesn’t even go. 

But then, she does. 

For security reasons, she sneaks in the back, aided by her assistant Epperly, and watches from the closet that counts as a backstage. It’s an acoustic set, and Dan plays arrangements of his solo album (that she absolutely did NOT listen to), plus some covers. In fact, he covers one of her songs. “Blank Space,” mashed up with “Stand by Me.” He introduces it by saying, “I really love the melodies in this song, I think it’s just really good melody writing.” And it feels like…an apology. 

They keep meeting up, but now, it’s on purpose, not accidental. They’re both in New York for the time being anyways, Dan is getting some rest before the European leg of his album tour, and Blair is supposed to be working on a new album before her own, but she’s got…nothing. Less than nothing. And Chuck knows that, which means it’s harder and harder to have him around. 

Besides, there’s no rule that she can’t have friends. Honestly, with how her career is, she doesn’t really have any. There’s Epperly, and Dorota, maybe Nate. She’s married, but she’s not sure she would call Chuck her friend. 

She and Dan though, they have a real connection. And they can be just friends. 

Since she has absolutely no new songs to record, she leaves for Europe a couple weeks early, she tells Chuck it’s to visit her parents in Paris and get inspired, but then, at the last minute, she changes her itinerary, and goes to Dublin instead, where Dan’s first gig is. 

Blair’s been letting herself and this friendship live in plausible deniability, but as she’s learned more about Dan, about the kind of person and artist that he is, she knows that isn’t really his thing, and when she appears at his show in Dublin, he refuses to let it go, and Blair, worn thin by…literally everything else, can’t keep up the denial anymore, and tells him to bring her back to his hotel. 

It’s a mistake, it’s such a mistake. Blair’s life is already precarious enough as it is. Chuck’s label owns her contracts, her catalog, and basically her. She’s been over and over it, and can’t see a way out. She wanted to be on top, and that was the price. 

But, Dan. 

Being with him feels like waking up after spending her entire adult life asleep. She’s excited about music again, about making something. She writes, then hides it all away, because she can’t record songs about being in love with someone else on her husband’s dime. 

She has her tour, and Dan has his, but they meet on every overlapping date. Sometimes she’s so tired after a concert all she has energy to do is sleep in his arms, but even that stolen time feels sacred. 

When their tour legs end, Dan tentatively asks if it’s the end, but she really doesn’t want it to be. 

He’s back in New York City at first, so that’s easier, and harder, because Chuck is there too. Thankfully, Blair’s sales were high enough that she’s in his good graces, and when she slips away it’s easy enough to say she’s working on something new. She practically sees cartoon dollar signs flash in Chuck’s eyes when she does. How she ever thought that this could be her happily ever after, she’ll never know. 

She and Dan talk about that, about living in stories and wanting fairytales but being smacked down by real life. She tells him that she doesn’t feel like she belongs to herself anymore, how she doesn’t want to write anymore if it means that Chuck will profit off it, but if she walks away, all those things she believed, promised, sung, was all of it for nothing? 

She wrote love songs about Chuck, for Chuck. Her life’s work is tangled up in him, and she’s not sure she wants to pull away from all of that, much less if she even could. 

Dan tells her about Milo, about loss, about the shadow his father cast and how hiding in it was safe so he didn’t try to break out of it, but now he’s out. He talks about loving his parents but resenting them for not staying in love, and resents himself for falling out of love in the past. 

“What did you do about it?” she asks him. 

He waggles his eyebrows at her, and reaches behind him to grab his guitar. 

It’s unfair, she knows it’s unfair. Blair comes to rely on Dan too much, to center her, to hold her, to love her even when it’s not his place. But she keeps going to him, and he’s always there, arms open. 

He’s writing about her. She knows before he even tells her. She can sense it sometimes, when he’s looking at her, and she just knows he has lyrics running in his head. 

But it’s unfair. He’s bicoastal, going to and from LA for gigs and appearances. When he’s gone, Blair does her own, always beginning and ending with paparazzi shots of her on Chuck’s arm, smiling like she’s still in love with him. Her heart belongs to someone else now, but she’s afraid she’s in too deep to break away. 

In the meantime, Dan, Jenny, and Vanessa come back to their roots: each other, and decide to do a project together, write an EP (boygenius. It’s boygenius). They have a fair mix of songs, and all of Dan’s lyrics are fed by his relationship to BLair, that he’s told no one about, but it bleeds out of everything he writes. They’re approaching an impasse, he can feel it, but selfishly, he wants to avoid it as long as possible, to keep her as long as possible. 

In addition to his EP with Jenny and Vanessa, Dan has a deal for a next record, and a handful of songs to put on it already. When he’s in LA, he’s working on his own music, and when he’s in New York, he’s either working with Jen and Vanessa, or he’s with Blair. 

But it can’t last. Blair is feeling the pressure from Bass Records, and if she were to get caught in an affair, or separate from Chuck, Chuck would hold her catalog hostage. Her entire life’s work wouldn’t be hers anymore. And maybe Dan’s right when he says that she can’t stay with her husband, but she’s right when she says she can’t leave him either. 

She can’t even record new music for the label either, because everything new she’s written is covered in Dan. She even wrote a song about that. She is covered in him. 

But Dan has his own wounds, and they make him push, and push, and self sabotage, and after one gruesome, draining fight, Blair calls it off. 

In the meantime, Jenny and Vanessa are doing work of their own, on their music and on themselves. 

Vanessa plays her solos up and down the east coast, through the Midwest, and back in New York. Through Rufus, she meets Aaron Rose, a jack-of-all-trades of sorts. Like Rufus, he was a musician first, but mostly works now as a producer. They hit it off, and after working on a thing or two, they start dating, but only casually. After several years and multiple musical acts, Aaron’s star as a producer is rising, and he’s working with bigger and bigger names. 

Jenny is still healing from all her garbage (Agnes, Damien, etc.), and the music helps, and the project with Dan and Vanessa does too—it’s an excuse to reconnect with each other, and she becomes close to two of her favorite people again. It helps. As does the therapy, and all the other things she does. 

One such thing, recommended by her therapist and her parents, is to do creative things that are outside of her purview as a musician. She’s always sort of been into fashion, so she gets into sewing, into designing her own looks. And when that’s not active enough, she puts in time at the dance studio in Brooklyn where her mom used to teach, where she took classes once upon a time. 

She isn’t interested in lessons, or classes with other people, but the owners still know her, and love Alison, so they’ll give her solo studio time when she asks for it, and one afternoon, one of their new staff walks into the wrong studio. 

Jenny kind of bites his head off, but he kind of likes that. He says his name is Nate, he’s the new hire to take over the beginner classes. And — he’s hot, obviously, but Jenny is on permanent hiatus in that department. Not that that stops her from looking. 

But after that first meeting, Nate is just always around, and Jenny doesn’t really want to deal with all the shit that having him around kicks up within her, but she likes hanging out with him, so she tells him – firmly – that she only wants to be friends, and he respects that. What a thing, to have a guy respect her boundaries. 

She keeps putting it all in her music, Turn Out the Lights doesn’t make the same splash as Badlands, apparently people care less the more distance she puts between herself and Damien, but Jen decides she’s okay with that. 

Reeling from another heartbreak that Dan can’t really talk about, he puts it into his music, in the EP with Jen and V and in his new album. His sophomore solo album, Punisher, comes out to a great reception. Well, great within the small circle of people who actually know who he is. 

The gigs that began with his debut keep rolling in, late night shows, radio appearances, festivals, and now mixed in with those are engagements for his act with Jen and Vanessa. To his surprise, people are interested in that music because of him. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. If you ask him, Jenny and Vanessa are way better at what they do than he is. 

Dan’s public profile grows bigger and bigger, but Blair can’t be happy for him, because it makes him increasingly unavoidable. She refuses to listen to the new music he releases, she’s afraid it’s too cruel towards her, or worse, it’s too kind. 

But, just like their accidental first meeting, she stumbles across a single he put out after the new album. Typical Humphrey. A goddamn overachiever, kept on writing even after the album was done. She didn’t mean to see it, but she was scrolling through All Songs Considered, and there he was, talking about Audrey Hepburn, of all things. 

There’s this line in the movie Sabrina, where she says “I have learned to be in the world and of the world, and not just stand aside and watch.” And that’s really what this song’s about, about falling in love with a person because they’ve taught you how to live, how to appreciate everything the world has to offer. And there’s – there’s a tremendous amount of joy in that, but there’s also fear, because gaining that now means that it’s possible to lose it too. So – I guess this is sort of trying to reconcile those ideas within a song. 

Blair listens to “Sidelines,” and it makes her so angry that she scribbles off a song idea of her own, because he still doesn’t get it. He meant her while she was in the middle of running away, so why won’t he just let her run?

She worries fleetingly about getting caught, because Audrey is her thing, and Dan knows that, but Audrey is a ubiquitous enough icon that no one but she would ever make the connection. He’s good at that, Dan is, of coding a message to her that only she could understand. It’s the same skill that makes him such a good writer. 

Blair writes songs because she can’t help it, but she won’t record them. A new album would mean adding to Chuck’s empire, and the thought of Chuck owning these songs too, the only things of Dan she’s allowed herself to keep…she can’t stomach the thought of it. 

She’s stayed with him to protect her work, but now her work is dead on arrival because of him, and that’s really what drives her decision to divorce Chuck. 

She has to do it carefully, of course. She sets up a place of her own to go to in New York, moves in all the things that mean the most to her. Puts her notebooks in a safety deposit box—just to be sure. And, finally, she reaches out to her mother, to get a recommendation for a divorce attorney familiar with entertainment law. 

On a first impression, Cyrus Rose doesn’t look like much beyond a short, ebullient, overly cheery middle-aged man, but Blair quickly learns that when he’s practicing law, he turns into a bulldog. He fights for her and for her work so fiercely that for a little while, Blair lets herself believe that it will all come out her way. 

But there’s all the media coverage, and it paints her out as a bitter, gold-digging, ungrateful woman, villainizing a man who doesn’t deserve it. It pisses her off to no end, but Cyrus tells her to hold her silence, and she trusts him, so she does.

In the end, Cyrus is able to get her out of her marriage and most of her contract with Bass Records. She’s not destitute, she still has her family money, and a comfortable settlement, but Cyrus is ultimately unable to save her music. Bass will still own her masters, and the residuals from those masters. It’s that that breaks her heart the most—more than how quickly Chuck turned the media cycle against her, more than how many people followed his lead, more than the evidence Cyrus discovered of his multiple affairs, of his mismanagement of the company—but that her work cannot belong to her, that hurts the most. 

But, bulldog that he is, Cyrus digs out a loophole. Since going solo, Blair has been the prime writer of all her songs, which gives her the legal right to rerecord her masters. So while she can’t stop Chuck from doing whatever he wants with her old work, anything she makes now can be entirely within her control. 

She just has to find someone willing to work with her. And who she trusts enough to work with. 

Worn out, Blair retreats from the public eye, it’s lonely, but thankfully, not too lonely. 

The divorce process set Blair to looking back at lots of her life, at things and people she wishes she had handled differently. After she privately filed her petition, she reached out to Serena, and, miraculously, Serena answered. 

Before anything else is fixed, Blair and Serena’s friendship is fixed. They reconnect, because everything they’ve been through, together and apart, has made them want to focus on what matters, and what matters is each other. 

They talk all the shit through, Blair’s marriage, Serena’s struggles, their respective creative blocks. They start appearing in public together, and the tabloids gobble that shit UP.

Serena is working on a comeback record of her own, her first since burning out with her grandfather’s label. It’s zany, and bright, but doesn’t shy away from the heartache she’s been through. It’s so incredibly her, that Blair can’t help but love it. She loves it, no matter that the liner notes give credit to a Dan Humphrey on a few tracks

Free from Bass Records, Blair wants to work on a new album, but she’s unsure of where to begin. Serena offers to introduce her to this producer she’s been dating (out of the public eye for a change), Aaron Rose. 

Blair doesn’t quite know what to make of Aaron, of his music, of his open relationship with her newly restored best friend, but she looks up his previous acts and thinks…maybe working with him could be the change her sound needs. 

Dan is moving in—if not the same—adjacent circles to her. Enough so that she can’t get him out of her head, can’t get over wanting him. She spills the whole thing to Serena, who she knew was also Dan’s ex, but didn’t know that they were still friends. Serena tells her to stay optimistic, Blair says Serena just thinks that because she’s okay sharing a boyfriend. 

Her engagements have been sparse, she’s not wanted many, and not many have wanted her, but Austin City Limits is still on her calendar. In the promotional materials, they highlight her on one stage, and Dan’s band with Jenny and Vanessa on another. 

She doesn’t intend to seek him out, but fate conspires against her, and they end up thrown into the same green room. Again. 

Dan doesn’t want to want her anymore. His career has forward movement and even if the music he makes is about her, the people who like it don’t know that, nor do they care. They care that it’s good. His career is good, he’s been dating Netflix Original darling Carter Baizen for months now, happily and uncomplicatedly. (Serena put them in touch, then one dm led to another, and it’s nice). Not that Carter doesn’t have his own damage—no one in LA is without damage, but they can forget about their damage with each other. It’s not love, but it’s not not love. 

Dan doesn’t want to want her anymore, But, oh, he does. 

They nearly miss their calls—his set, her soundcheck—while talking (well, talking, fighting, kissing, then talking some more). But they fulfill their contracts, and just like it started three years ago, they end up backstage after their shows, drinking, and talking, and talking until a harrowed stage manager is begging them to leave. 

Dan sets a limit, makes himself go back to Jen and Vanessa, instead of going home with her, but he says he’s going straight to New York after this, and asks if she’ll be around. 

Blair says yes. 

After the divorce, Blair sold off the real estate she’d kept from her marriage. It was all too haunted, too high up, too far from reality. While looking for a new place, Epperly showed her a listing for a remodeled carriage house in the West Village; Blair would have bought it sight unseen if anyone but Epperly had been there. 

Back in New York, Dan invites her to a secret acoustic show he’s playing near NYU. She goes, of course, and this time, when she asks him to come home with her, he says yes. 

It takes time. For them to trust each other, and reconnect. But they do, and Blair feels like her life is finally making sense. 

She and Dan take one day, one step at a time, in secret, for both their sakes, and meanwhile, she, Epperly, Cyrus, and Aaron negotiate a new contract with Rose Records.

Her best-friendship, record deal, and love life all fall into place, and then Blair is writing like never before.

Aaron is….unconventional, and doesn’t let her push him around, which she finds infuriating, not for least of which is the direction he wants to take this album. She fights it at first, but if she really does want to make a departure from the pop princess songs she was generating, maybe following down his path is not the worst idea. And if she hates it, then she can just walk. 

It’s still pop, but it’s bigger, less bubbly and more….glittering. It’s….darker isn’t exactly the right word, but like she’s not trying to be the Good Girl anymore. It’s just crafting a record that’s hers, one song at a time. 

She offers Dan the option to co-write, more than once, but he turns her down. Not because he doesn’t care, but because this is the first time the music she’s making entirely belongs to her, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of that. 

“Church and state,” he says one late night in her cozy house on Cornelia Street. 

“And which one’s this?” 

“Church,” he answers immediately before kissing her. “Obviously.”

Speaking of church and state, and despite their expectations, they’re able to keep them out of the public eye. Blair’s friends know, and Dan’s family knows, but no one else does. By some miracle, they keep out of the tabloids. Blair keeps working on her album, Dan keeps working with his sister and best friend. They go out into the world and make music and go home to each other at the end of the night. 

Blair and Aaron Rose make a surprisingly good time. They finish the album fast, and nine months after Blair’s divorce from Chuck and Bass Records, reputation drops. 

She has a whole slew of promotions to do for the release, but that midnight, she and Dan open a bottle of wine and listen to the whole thing start to finish. (“Church and State, honey, I’ll listen when it’s done,” he’d said). He’s a fan. 

She and Aaron were both intent on it not being a “divorce record,” but it is about her, exploring who she is as a person and an artist after her carefully constructed life fell apart, and about the love and truth she found in the wreckage. It's not a divorce record; she never point blank references Chuck, or their marriage, but the argument could be made that there’s a rebuke against him in every track. Even in the love songs she wrote about Dan, her writing of him is an antithesis of who Chuck was as a partner. The most pointed tracks are even able to claim plausible deniability. There are some people on the internet, though, who criticize the single “Look What You Made Me Do,” as a phrase habitually used by abusers, to which Blair says (in private, of course): “Yeah, that was the whole fucking point.”

The album doesn’t out perform her Bass releases immediately, but no one denies that the Queen B is back, she charms on late night shows, radio spots, and a months-long tour kicks off with high sales. There’s another legal fight about her having to pay for the right to perform her own songs on the tour, and as infuriating as that is, Blair is restored at having herself as an artist back. 

Of course, to the public, the addressee in many of the songs is a mystery. Who is “Gorgeous” about? Or “Dress”? Or “Call It What You Want”? Many a pop culture think-piece is written on the topic, but no one guesses right. The most popular theory though, since they appear in public so often nowadays, is that Blair is dating Serena. It turns out to be a pretty good cover for keeping their real relationships private, so they play it up. 

(sidebar: in the effort to hold of the Divorce Record allegations, Aaron had her tweak the bridge in Gorgeous, the original lines she demo’ed for him were: you make me so happy it turns back to sad / there’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have / guess I’ll just stumble on back to my man / unless you want to take me home)

(It’s actually a testament to the loyalty and restraint of the people around them, because Blair and Dan are shit at being subtle while they’re together. )

Speaking of the people around them, it’s a bit hilarious how their lives all intertwine and overlap. There’s Dan’s sister, who’s hated Blair’s ex-husband for years, and who’s now decidedly not dating Blair’s ex-boyfriend. (“Just friends,” she and Nate insist to anyone who even comes close to asking, but Blair thinks they doth protest too much). And there’s Blair's best friend who was her former nemesis and Dan’s ex but is now dating Blair’s colleague and producer. Speaking of her colleague and producer, Aaron—who just so happens to be her lawyer’s son—he’s also in a poly-relationship with Dan’s best friend and bandmate, Vanessa Abrams. Vanessa who, on more than one occasion, Blair has caught giving Serena the eye, and vice versa.

They are all kind of a mess, but Blair finds she loves it that way. Her supposedly pristine life had been fake anyway. She much prefers this. 

She and Dan keep their relationship a secret through her stadium tour and into awards season, when they decide to finally come out of the shadows. 

“I’ve never really come out before,” Dan jokes, “everybody just already kinda knew.”

They pick the American Music Awards as the event. Blair gives him one last out in the limo ride over, but he doesn’t want to take it. He’s not ignorant of the public attention and pressure she lives with, but he loves her more than he’s afraid of that. 

He gets out of the car first on his side, then comes around to open her door and help her out onto the red carpet. She kisses him as soon as she’s on her feet, limo door still open, cameras flashing in front of them. 

The internet loses its collective mind. Intrigue suddenly sprouts up around this unassuming sad boi indie artist. Streams of Punisher and Strangers in the Alps hit all time highs. Dan’s been represented by his dad this whole time, but now Rufus jokes, “I think I can’t afford you.”

To ask him if his life has changed is stupid, of course it has, but his focus doesn’t. Dan’s attention is always only on the music. On the music, and on Blair. 

Every year, Vanessa orchestrates a benefit show at one of their old favorite clubs in Brooklyn. It’s usually just Vanessa, Jenny, and Dan, but once she’s earned the trust of Dan’s sisters, Blair appears too. People go feral for a bootleg when they hear through the grapevine that she covered “A Case of You,” with Dan on the dulcimer. 

For two people who love playing music, and love playing music together, they don’t do it in public very often. It becomes something that they save for just each other, and only occasionally will they perform together in public. Dan plays on Blair’s NPR TIny Desk once, and once for WFUV, they do a cover of “Dust to Dust.” it’s OBSCENE. sex in the studio amirite

The dark corners of the internet (fangirls) start looking a little too closely at their lyrics, and it’s only a matter of time before a fan tweet theorizes that Blair Waldorf had an affair with sad boi indie guy while she was married.

Chuck jumps on the rumor, plays it up in an attempt to smack Blair down after the success of her latest record. He calls her a cheater, a gold-digger, all the accusations he floated during the divorce and more. 

In response, Blair releases a single. She wrote it while she and Dan were first together all those years ago, and kept it for her. At the time, she never planned on letting it see the light of day, she wasn’t even sure she would share it with Dan. But where she is now, she feels happy and safe in sharing this piece of her soul. 

When she drops “ivy,” it's a confirmation of the rumors, but unapologetic. Comedians applaud her gall on late night shows. She was accused of having an affair, and she said, yeah I fucked him, and I wrote this ballad about it. 

It isn’t pristine, or the most graceful thing to admit, but Blair is happy, and she won’t pretend to be sorry for being happy. She releases another album (Loneliest Time), then another (Lover), as does Dan (the more rockabilly Sleepwalkers). And three years after her divorce, they marry in a private ceremony with only their nearest and dearest in attendance. They keep the marriage quiet for six months after the fact. And, in the meantime, Blair sits down with Aaron to strategize re-recording her masters. 

She starts with a single from her last record under the Bass umbrella. She’d written “This Love” about her and Chuck’s on-again, off-again relationship before he finally gave in and married her. On touring, she’d grown increasingly tired of it, she’d hated it for a while there. But her life and heart have come full circle, and now she can sing it with a new perspective. 

When “This Love (B’s Version)” drops, she posts a set of photos on instagram: 

The cover of the new single, which is a close up of her face, eyes closed, lips red, another set of lips kissing her cheek

The original photo used for the cover, zoomed out to see Dan kissing Blair’s cheek.

Another photo of Blair and Dan in their home at the West Village, forehead to forehead, facing each other. 

A candid shot of Blair in the studio, wiping her eyes after tearing up while recording vocals. 

Another candid of Blair and Aaron hugging once they wrapped. 

Blair writes the caption of the post herself, which reads:

It’s funny how the meanings of songs can change as you change. When I first recorded “This Love,” I hadn’t even met the love of my life yet. I thought my big, magical, cyclical love story was done. Then, when I learned it wasn’t that magical at all, I couldn’t bring myself to sing the song anymore, its meaning had become tainted, hurtful. But then, after enough time, and with the right person, something amazing happened. I found a new meaning in it, deeper, happier, and it was like my life had finally caught up to what I had written all those years ago. These hands had to let it go free, but “This Love” has finally come back to me, and now I share it with you. xoxo, B

And CURTAIN

PS: this is how they announce Blair’s pregnancy when it happens

[caltropspress]

RAPS + CRAFTS #33: Gabe 'Nandez

1. Introduce yourself. Past projects? Current projects?

Gabriel Matias Fernandez Traoré aka Gabe ‘Nandez. Past projects in chronological order - H.T., Sifu, Disconnected, Plaques (a compilation), Cliquetape, Diplomacy, Grove, Ox, Seven, Strife, Canis Cascus, Pangea, H.T. III, H.T. III (Deluxe), Object Permanence. Upcoming projects - False Profit produced by Thomas Maggart, a collaborative album with U.K. rapper Louis Jack, and more.

2. Where do you write? Do you have a routine time you write? Do you discipline yourself, or just let the words come when they will? Do you typically write on a daily basis?

My desk, at home. If I’m not at home, then any desk. Or something desk like, if available. I tend to write at night and during twilight, generally speaking.

And yeah I try to write every day, and usually do. That being said, I ultimately need a few days off after writing every day for an extended period of time. But that in itself is also part of my writing process, it’s holistic.

3. What’s your medium—pen and paper, laptop, on your phone? Or do you compose a verse in your head and keep it there until it’s time to record?

Pen and paper always. I’ll take walks and write bars in my head but it all comes together when I pull the pen and notebook out.

4. Do you write in bars, or is it more disorganized than that?

I write in bars, it’s all organized. Scientific. 

5. How long into writing a verse or a song do you know it’s not working out the way you had in mind? Do you trash the material forever, or do you keep the discarded material to be reworked later?

Depends. Sometimes I’ll write 32 bars and decide I don’t want to use them after all, but that doesn’t happen often. I haven’t trashed an entire verse in a minute, there’s usually always a few gems in there that I can re-purpose. If I do trash something forever, it’s usually like…four bars in. Might read it back later and go “What the fuck was I on here?”

The first two lines tend to dictate everything. The first two bars cannot be trash. That’s the headline, it has to be strong because it sets the tone for the entire verse. I make sure the first two work and then it usually stays good from there.

6. Have you engaged with any other type of writing, whether presently or in the past? Fiction? Poetry? Playwriting? If so, how has that mode influenced your songwriting?

Honestly, the text messages I’ve sent women read like straight poetry sometimes. Like I’ll structure them like a poem, stanzas and shit like that, with rhythm and shit. I’m not even trynna come off like Casanova right now, I’m just being honest. Those texts are romantic as fuck and I’m proud of them. 

I’ve had to mess around with other mediums during academia but haven’t done so since I left. 

And ultimately I consider what I do with this rap shit poetry. Not crazy about labels but I’d still classify my writing as that.

7. How much editing do you do after initially writing a verse/song? Do you labor over verses, working on them over a long period of time, or do you start and finish a piece in a quick burst?

There usually isn’t much editing involved and I rarely trip over finishing stuff once I start it. I might take a long time to actually start the verse though, the first two bars. So I’ll just listen to the music for as long as I need to until the first two bars come to me, and then it’s pretty much smooth sailing from there. Usually. Every song is different though.

8. Do you write to a beat, or do you adjust and tweak lyrics to fit a beat?

Ideally, I tailor the writing to a specific piece of music, but I’ve transplanted verses to other beats before, definitely.

9. What dictates the direction of your lyrics? Are you led by an idea or topic you have in mind beforehand? Is it stream-of-consciousness? Is what you come up with determined by the constraint of the rhymes?

It really depends. There are general themes in my life that dictate the themes in my art, and I can just go stream-of-consciousness while sounding topical in my creative universe on any song. Sometimes a specific thing will inspire me, like my song “Commerce God” for example, which was inspired by the god Hermes/Mercury, and riffs around the statue of Mercury on top of Grand Central Station.

10. Do you like to experiment with different forms and rhyme schemes, or do you keep your bars free and flexible?

I would say both.

11. What’s a verse you’re particularly proud of, one where you met the vision for what you desire to do with your lyrics?

Good question, and a hard one. I’ll say “Ox” 'cause it’s the song of mine that’s reached the most people so far. I think it’s cause it has a balanced amount of depth and flexing. That beat goes crazy too. Stars just aligned on that one.

12. Can you pick a favorite bar of yours and describe the genesis of it?

“Self emancipated from a place of permanent ruin” is one that comes to mind. It’s a comment on how I kicked narcotics and alcohol but also sounds real fly and rolls of the tongue well. 

It’s from a track called “Semtex.” Wrote that one in like half an hour off of no sleep at 5:00AM type shit . Always fond of those type of sessions.

13. Do you feel strongly one way or another about punch-ins? Will you whittle a bar down in order to account for breath control, or are you comfortable punching-in so you don’t have to sacrifice any words?

I’m cool with punching in 'cause I’m good at it and can make it seamless. Or at least seamless enough where I’m cool with it. But there are times where I know I can just one-take a section of a song, so I’ll do that.  I’m with whatever needs to get done to get the song recorded, and the procedure is never exactly the same. It’s all very instinctive when I’m in the booth.

I’ve one-taked an entire song before, my song “Up Top.” First take, one take. That was crazy. But I don’t go in there planning on doing that. That just happened organically.

14. What non-hiphop material do you turn to for inspiration? What non-music has influenced your work recently?

Old books and stories. Theology, mythology, some philosophy. From different cultures. 

Otherwise life. People, the interactions I have or have had with them. Dreams sometimes.

15. Writers are often saddled with self-doubt. Do you struggle to like your own shit, or does it all sound dope to you?

Self-doubt isn’t something I struggle with in general. All of my music is objectively great because it’s tediously well made. I might cringe at some of my old stuff, but I don’t at most of it.

16. Who’s a rapper you listen to with such a distinguishable style that you need to resist the urge to imitate them?

Off top, Prodigy. But, to be honest, I’m at the stage where I’ve found my voice, so I don’t really run into situations where I’m writing and go, “Nah, that’s his shit.” It does happen sometimes, but it’s rare. 

Sometimes I’ll throw a dart in someone else’s style on purpose as an homage.

17. Do you have an agenda as an artist? Are there overarching concerns you want to communicate to the listener?

I’m here to express myself through art. By doing so, my viewpoints are shared, my energy is felt. This action, in turn, communicates the essence of my being and my spirit, which does what it’s intended to do, according to or regardless of my intention. 

I can’t control how someone is going to react to an action I take, let alone how my art is going to make them feel. I’m confident that I can direct and influence accurately - I’m confident that we all can. But, ultimately, I don’t have a desire to sway people in a particular direction, through art or in everyday life. That’s up to people.

RAPS + CRAFTS is a series of questions posed to rappers about their craft and process. It is designed to give respect and credit to their engagement with the art of songwriting. The format is inspired, in part, by Rob McLennan’s 12 or 20 interview series.

Photo credit: Sebastian Thompson

[bmodiwrites]

I'll Dial Drunk

Hi friends! I'm back with something that's been brewing since Noah Kahan released the extended version of his newest album. Dial Drunk is the motivation for this one - I hope you like what my mind cooked up! There will be a second part, so be on the lookout for that. You can read I'll Dial Drunk below or over on AO3. Please like, reblog, and let me know what you think!

The mahogany under Steve’s arm is slippery like grease, covered in both sweat from the bar’s patrons and slick from the coating used to keep its shine. He tries not to look down at the reflective surface – his mirror image is just as bad as the one Steve projects out into the world and he’s already depressed. Seeing examples of his downfall never helps.  

For the fourth night in a row, Steve sits at the far corner of The Hideout, sipping a drink. There aren’t many lights that surround him so Steve is usually unbothered and undisturbed while he drowns his sorrows in whiskey and rum. After so many years of isolation, that’s how Steve likes it. He doesn’t know how to converse with strangers anymore – his allotted charm hit it’s peak so long ago that Steve can’t even remember what normal interaction is actually like.

Tonight is somehow different. There’s a charge in the air that Steve can’t seem to push past or ignore. He takes a deep breath, testing out the oxygen level in the room. Though it supplies him with what his body needs, Steve can smell the lingering anticipation.

Or maybe, he’s just really fucking drunk.

The whiskey in his hands is warm by now, the ice he ordered in it all but melted and watering down the drink. Steve throws it back anyway, well aware of the waste it would be if he doesn’t. His money isn’t something he can just throw away now. With so much agony following him around, disappearing into his mind isn’t beneficial. These days, it’s easier to live in the back of his head than exist in the real world – working a job included. It’s lonelier there, sad in so many ways that a lack of steady income doesn’t even break into the top five.

At least in his head, Steve is surrounded by the family he once had. Dustin and the kids aren’t gone yet, the sleepy little town they all grew up in hasn’t chased them away. They’re available for him outside of the holidays that blow by in a haze of too little time and so much to do every time his surrogate kids come back to see their families. His mind perfectly preserved the happy moments where Steve is at his best and not lonelier than any man should be.

What’s lacking in his real life, Steve clings to in his thoughts.

Unsurprisingly, Steve also keeps a perfectly rendered picture of the one that got away tucked back there, mingling with all of his other good memories. In his head, Eddie Munson is bright eyed and 21 years old. There are scars that mark him but beauty radiates from him all the same. In the handful of years since Eddie turned him away, Steve’s mental picture and it’s clarity hasn’t changed a single bit. He can’t forget dimpled smiles and chocolate button eyes that were so easy to love – no matter what drawing up that vision costs him.

And the toll of clinging onto such memories is so very high. Steve struggles to make it from day to day after nights where Eddie and the kids live in the forefront of his mind. When they’re tucked away and out of sight, Steve can almost forget the pain that radiates from his chest and magnifies as it goes down. He can do his job and wake up in the morning without too much heartache. For some of the long days, Steve manages with barely a passing thought for those who left him behind.

Days like today are impossible, however. Hell, the last few days haven’t been all that good. After hearing about Eddie on the radio, Steve is stuck in the moments where that brilliant man was his - even if they are few and far between. The alcohol numbs the need to desperately seek Eddie out, to run across Hawkins and demand to be taken back. Yet, it enhances the want for him, for the life they should’ve had even more. The impossible conundrum is neither solved nor soothed by whiskey on the rocks, though Steve keeps drinking all the same.

How can he not when thirty came and went last fall and Steve’s not any closer to being where he wants in life or with the people he needs so very desperately? As the world turned on around him, Steve dug his heels in and tried to stop it from spinning him off his axis. This place, this town - it’s all he’s ever known. After all the trauma, Steve is certain he made the right decision to stay right where he is, consequences be damned.

A loud bang a few feet down the bar draws Steve away from his melancholy, all sad thoughts halting. A new group is starting to get passed the point of socially drunk – the ruckus they’re going to cause is a little more than Steve can take at the moment. Instead of asking for one more like most nights, Steve signals to the bar tender, requesting the check.

“All done for the night, Harrington?” Gareth asks, a worried look on his face. Steve watches him glance between the rowdy group and himself. There’s a tension there that Steve can’t quite place. Despite being one of the bars best customers, Gareth seems eager to have Steve gone.

Instead of wondering why, Steve’s drunk brain grasps onto the question the bartender asked. “Sure am. Gotta save a little of that liquor for the next time I’m here.” Steve tries to smile but it falls flat - there’s nothing nice about being a drunk and knowing it. The hilarity of the situation is long gone now that Steve is stuck in this rut and can’t seem to get out.

After making quick work of his change, Gareth nods at Steve and turns back to help the other group demanding his attention. Steve shakes his head to clear it, then starts his trek over to the main entrance. He’s wobbling and a bit tipsy on his feet but they eventually start to work and clumsily carry him across the room. Of course, they can’t whisk him away fast enough to avoid hearing something that is guaranteed to set him off.

“Did you hear the freak is back in town?”

“Yeah, man. I saw him at the coffee shop with his uncle. Still as freaky as ever.”

“I don’t know why that Munson kid ever comes back. He’s never been welcome here.”

With each new scathing remark, Steve forgets himself a little more. Despite not being Eddie’s for a long time now, Steve can’t help the way his heart lurches anytime someone speaks badly of him. There’s so much this stupid town doesn’t know; Eddie is a savior and part of the reason Hawkins is still standing. He wonders briefly if they would think differently of him if the truth were to come out. Though, that’s quickly brushed away in favor of the rising anger Steve isn’t even trying to control. Why should he when there’s nothing to lose?

Turning around, Steve makes quick work of stumbling back over to the group who’s now cackling madly. There’s a moment where Gareth looks at him, even shakes his head, but Steve ignores him. It’s already too late to turn back now. How can he, anyway? Eddie’s never deserved the hand he was dealt. After a decade, the trash talk needs to go away for good.

“I’ve never liked that word – freak. Especially when it’s coming from boys like you,” Steve says, squaring up his shoulders to bring himself to full height. He’s surrounded on all sides by assholes but he’s not afraid. For the first time in a long time, Steve feels alive.

The leader of the group, some Jason Carver wannabe, turns to Steve, looking him up and down. There’s recognition that’s quickly diminished into a hatred only people in Hawkins can understand.

“What makes you think I give a shit what the town drunk has to say?”

There are snickers following the attempted insult; this ring leader has all of his flunkies trained well. Steve ignores them, however, setting his sights on the guy dumb enough to step up and take the bait. Despite not being athletic anymore and a little older than he was, Steve knows he can win a fight. There’s been more than a few in this very spot that ended in victory for Steve. He’s not afraid nor cowed by a jackass who talks about something he’s got no business even bringing up.

“You care enough to turn around and clap back. I’d say you’re pretty invested.” Steve smirks at that, knowing he’s got this guy right where he wants him.

As expected, the man takes a step towards Steve, his fingers clenching. “I would watch yourself if I were you. 7 to 1 isn’t much of a fight.”

Without thinking or even trying to act rationally, Steve smiles wider – his eyes darkening. “I like those odds,” he mutters a second before drawing back his right arm and swinging.

The punch lands right where he wants it. Steve is happy to see that the guy is all talk and no action. He blows back against the bar like he’s been hit by a truck, not a simple thing like Steve’s fist. His face is pinched into a grimace that gets worse when he sees the rest of the group just standing there staring.

“You’re just going to let him do that to me?” Steve’s victim roars, his hands that are covering his nose muffling the sound. A few of the guys jump into action while the rest take a step back. They’re smart not to take on a crazy person without anything to lose.

For what seems like hours, Steve fights them off. He throws punches and lets a few glance off him to get the advantage. By the time there’s blue and red flashing lights in the window, everyone is sporting at least one black eye and Steve’s knuckles are torn open, each one of them bleeding enough to leave track marks down the side of Steve’s shirt and jeans. He looks murderous and Hop says so as he’s putting him into cuffs.

“You look fucking rabid, Harrington. Ain’t nothing worth this.” Hop’s words are harsh but his hands are gentle on Steve’s wrists. They’ve been through this song and dance a few times before. All because of Eddie – always because of that damn boy.

“You don’t even know him anymore, Steve. Why do you do this to yourself?”

Steve contemplates that answer all the way to the station while he sits in the back of Hop’s squad car. The fifteen minute drive is enough to sober him somewhat, though there’s still a long way to go before clarity sets in. His mind is addled but one thing is clear, Eddie is always worth the punches Steve throws. Always.

After getting dragged into the station, Hop throws Steve into a chair in front of his desk. He sits down heavily, the tiredness of getting his ass kicked starting to set in. They both know exactly who Steve wants to call but Hop makes him wait. They toil in silence for ages, staring at each other but not seeing. Glancing but never quite making eye contact.

When this first happened, Hop tried his best to guide Steve. To this day the man feels like a father figure that Steve never had in his own daddy. Yet, Steve is and always has been too stubborn to do what’s best for himself. He’s ruled by emotion that weighs him down and forces him to remain stagnant. He’s stuck in the past where genuine happiness exists - even if it’s just for those handful of months. Steve doesn’t want to forget the way his heart pounded or the shape of Eddie’s lips against his own. Every trip to the police station is worth it. It has to be when Steve has nothing left.

It’s obvious that neither of them are going to talk so Hop huffs out an impatient breath before reaching for the phone on his desk. Steve usually dials the number but Hop doesn’t let him this time. His fingers glide over the buttons, the rhythm of it like music to Steve’s ears.

There’s a singular moment where Steve thinks Hop isn’t going to hand over the phone – a look in his eyes that Steve can’t quite decipher. Though, it’s gone as fast as it came; the receiver is in Steve’s hands before the slightest idea of what Hop is thinking comes to the surface of Steve’s drunken mind. Everyone has their problems, that much is obvious.

Like every time before, Hop leaves him to his own devices. After the call went unanswered the second time and Steve flipped out, Hop’s taken to giving him some privacy. Despite his misconduct, the town’s sheriff doesn’t actually want to arrest Steve. There’s too much history to allow a small misdemeanor to truly ruin Steve’s life. This, the handcuffs, the time spent in the station – it’s all a familiar procedure now. The choreography is soothing in a world where Steve knows there aren’t guarantees. At least some things never change.

The continual ringing of the phone in his hand pulls Steve back to the present. Usually, there’s a couple of half assed rings and then a long dial tone before the operator hops on to say the number has been disconnected. After Eddie pushed him out the door a decade ago, the trailer’s number never worked again, despite the millions of times Steve dialed it time and time again. The disconnection of that bond still stings, so Steve is perplexed to hear the ringing continue. It goes and goes until there’s a click and a miracle truly happens.

“Munson residence, this is Eddie.”

Steve’s breath catches and for a second, he forgets himself. He forgets that he’s been trying to get through for years and years. Steve is suddenly back in his bedroom with that voice whispering in his ear. It’s like 10 years of hurt and pain no longer exist.

Then, reality comes crashing back.

“If you’re one of those fuckers calling to yell about damnation, you can save it!”

Gasping, Steve clings to the here and now to reply before the call is hung up.

“Wait, wait. Don’t go, Eddie!”

There’s silence.

Then –

“Steve? Is that really you?”

“Yeah, Eddie. It’s me. I can’t – I can’t believe you finally picked up. 10 years later.”

“How did you – never mind. Where are you? And why are you calling?”

Steve scoffs, his emotions all over the place. “I’ve been calling for years – just to maybe hear your voice. Of course you finally answer when I’m stuck in handcuffs at the police station. How fucked is that?”

A chuckle sounds down the line, the vibration of it genuine and true in Steve’s ears. He wants to cry from the relief of finally hearing such a happy noise again. It’s insane knowing how much better he feels just from that one second of joyful sound.

“You called me as your one phone call? What would’ve happened if I didn’t pick up?”

“Well, you never have before. Hop usually throws me in the holding cell and lets me sleep it off. I cry for a bit and then drop into an exhausted slumber where I dream about you. Pretty standard stuff.”

“Oh, Steve – “  

The tone of Eddie’s voice is raw and pitying – any other time, Steve would’ve lashed out in order to protect himself and his pride. Yet, he’s too weak and relieved to hear Eddie at all that Steve let’s it slide. He clings to it, even – the dulcet tones of worry are better than the silence that usually follows him around.

“I’m okay, Eddie. Drunk and bruised up but okay. Better than ever now.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but sit tight, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

Steve can’t process the words so he hums and holds the phone tightly to his ear, keeping it there even after Eddie hangs up and the dial tone is all that’s left. Steve clings and clings until Hop walks back into the room and takes the receiver from him.

“He picked up this time, Hop. Must be my lucky day.”

Hop looks at him for a moment, contemplating whether Steve needs to know that he dialed the right number instead of the one Steve always uses before deciding against it. He simply smiles in Steve’s direction, placating the drunken boy who still feels like a son. For so many years, Hop watched Steve drag himself down. Tonight, putting him in the car was just too much. Hop isn’t all that certain Wayne won’t hate him later but Steve’s happiness is worth whatever backlash he may get. This thing, the isolation between two kids obviously still gone for each other, has gone on long enough.

Steve and Hop wait at the desk until the station’s front door opens. For Steve, the entire world stops – there’s no spinning on an axis or time passing him by. There’s only Eddie.

Despite 10 years continuing on, Eddie isn’t much different. There are a few laugh lines around his eyes and a new scar over his right eyebrow. He’s a little heavier because exercising is for the weak but that’s about it. Steve is transported back to the easy days when summer vacation and what’s for lunch were his only worries. His fingers itch to bury themselves in the thick strands of curly hair still hanging past Eddie’s shoulders, kinky and long as always. Steve wants so much that he’s overwhelmed and completely mute the entire time Eddie and Hop discuss the situation.

By the time Hop is taking him out of the cuffs, Steve’s drunkenness has reached a critical level. It’s difficult to hobble out to the car, even with the warm press of Eddie against his side. Steve is so intoxicated that he can’t even enjoy the rare gift that being next to Eddie is. He’s happy to simply be there with him, to sit in the passenger seat of a new car that smells like Eddie and the burn of Marbolo Reds. Steve can only smile and nod when Eddie asks him questions. There’s no cognition of what he’s being asked to do or say but Steve is happy all the same. For the first time in a decade, he drifts off to sleep without a semblance of tightness or misery sitting in his belly.

——

“Hey there, Stevie – “

The all too familiar voice has Steve turning over, a soft smile on his face. He can tell it’s Eddie talking to him, there’s no mistaking the affection that sounds in his ears, yet the outline of his body is hazy and unfocused. Steve reaches up to rub at his eyes but it’s no use. The achingly familiar tease of Eddie just barely out of his reach is so familiar, Steve knows he’s dreaming.

Despite that, he extends his arm in Eddie’s direction. Steve’s fingers throb with a desperate need to touch, the ache so very familiar. Like usual, Steve gets so close that the feeling of Eddie’s leather jacket under his skin is almost tangible. While the memory of that touch lingers, the real thing hovers away for no justifiable reason. Steve’s come to the conclusion that he’s not allowed happiness. After so long, he’s used to never getting what he wants.

The sound of a coffee maker beeping draws Steve out of his restless dream. He blinks awake with a heavy sigh, both frustrated and glad to be free of that glorious torture – at least until he manages to try and rest again later. Stretching in hopes of forgetting the turmoil already setting in, Steve leans into the feeling of his muscles loosening. He’s sore enough to know a fight occurred without the memories having to resurface. A quick flex of his hand drives that reality home tenfold. There are cracks and cuts across the skin, though they’re lacking the caked on dry blood that’s usually looking back at him. In fact, all of his injuries have been taken care of.

With this newfound knowledge, Steve finally takes in the rest of his surroundings. Instead of the corner of a jail cell, Steve is reclined on a decently comfortable couch. There is a pillow under his head and a handmade blanket over top of him. Everything smells familiar, like Eddie’s cologne and the natural musk of a well-loved home. He’s startled to realize that whatever happened last night isn’t a dream his hopeful heart concocted.

That’s further proven by a cup of coffee being pushed into his hands a couple of minutes later. Steve is so dumbstruck that it takes a second for his body to cooperate. Eddie patiently waits in front of him until there’s no risk of spilling hot liquid. Despite the warmth of the drink, Steve takes a handful of desperate sips before even thinking about taking on whatever’s coming next.

Surprisingly, it’s silence that follows. Steve watches Eddie drink his coffee. In return, those brown eyes stay on Steve, too. There’s some sort of stalemate happening that’s not going to be broken by Steve. He’s too busy soaking Eddie in while the caffeine of the coffee is absorbed into his blood stream. Little by little, Steve gets a better grip on himself – his heart starts beating fast, it’s normal reaction to Eddie so close. Instead of the sluggish drunk of last night, Steve becomes the person he truly is.

A lost soul with a lot of unresolved feelings.

Eddie must see that because he finally breaks the ice developing up between them.

“You look like shit, man.”

Forgetting himself for a second, Steve can’t help but laugh. His chest heaves with the unexpected intensity of such an emotion. For a minute at least, Steve chuckles until there are tears streaming down his face.

“Fuck – I forgot how much you make me feel.” Steve takes a second, let’s himself calm down. Then, he trucks on. “I am shit, Eddie. Have been for years now. I can’t believe you’re actually here. I thought I dreamed last night up.”

“Trust me, I’m very real.” Eddie stops for a second, inelegantly staring Steve down. “It’s crazy to think my first adventure back home is with you. After all this time, it’s like nothing’s changed.”

“You’re shitting me, right? Nothing’s changed? I called you from jail last night, Eddie. Like I’ve done at least a dozen times before. Everything has changed.”

Eddie has the decency to look embarrassed, his big brown eyes watering up before he blinks the moisture away. Steve can’t help but want those tears to fall, to see some sort of emotion that comes close to Steve’s own. After a decade of thinking about this moment, Steve is lost in a sea of overwhelm, unable to doggy paddle effectively. He wants so much, it’s hard to process what’s actually happening.

Though, he eventually gets himself together enough to ask the question burning up his mind. “Why did you pick up now? I’ve called plenty of times when you were in town before. The phone just rang and rang until the operator popped on to tell me I’m an idiot for calling a disconnected number. I’ve been listening to that recorded message so long it’s a comfort to hear.”

Steve isn’t ready for the sudden infiltration of his space but deals with it when Eddie takes up the couch cushion next to him. Their thighs are inches from touching, the heat between them tangible. Steve so desperately wants to lash out and push Eddie away, to return the treatment he himself received. Yet, the comfort of a familiar body next to him is too much to handle. The fight leaves Steve within seconds.

“Hop dialed for you last night. He put in Wayne’s new number and you finally got through. I don’t know why he waited so long to share it with you, Steve. I’m suddenly aware of a lot of things I didn’t know.”

The bubbling pit of sadness Steve deals with on a daily basis drops a little further into his stomach. The realization that Hop could have helped him long ago settles in, making Steve feel heavy. It takes a second or two to come to the understanding that though it hurt him, Hop was trying to protect Steve, too.

“He was trying to save me, I’m sure. From this,” Steve says, waving his hands back and forth between them. “I’m a very weak man but that’s nothing compared to the fall out that’s about to come. Now that you’re here, I see very clearly that I’m going to have to give you up again.”

Tears are falling down Steve’s cheeks long before he realizes it. His shirt, or maybe Eddie’s because it’s a touch too tight across the chest, is getting wet, the collar collecting his sadness by the second. Steve is too tired and wrung out to reach up and swipe at each traitorous one. Instead, he lets them flow.

A soft hand on his chin stops Steve’s spiral. Guitar calloused fingers are so recognizable it’s like they’re 20 again, touching for the first time. Though, that thought jolts Steve back to reality and he shifts away. Little tastes of things he’s never going to be able to keep aren’t good for him. He’s an addict that isn’t anywhere near following the path to recovery. This bump, this small little hit, it’s going to put him back years.

“Don’t do that, Eddie. Don’t touch me like it’s not going to kill me. Don’t pretend that you care.”

“I do care. I’ve cared since before Vecna came in and destroyed our lives. I left because I care, Steve. Why can’t you see that?”

A red flash of rage swims in Steve’s vision. He’s much to hungover to be having this conversation but it’s happening, nonetheless. Steeling himself, Steve says the things he’s wanted to since the separation occurred.  

“That’s bull shit. If you cared, you never would have left. You never would have turned your back on me.”

“Steve, you shut me out. I told you I needed to leave for your safety and mine. I said I had to go because this town doesn’t forgive or forget. We were getting death threats every day. You, me, my uncle – even the kids. I couldn’t put you guys through that anymore.” Eddie’s voice rises, his anger peaking. “You decided you weren’t going to talk to me anymore. That the distance between us was too big to handle.”

“Because I needed you! I needed you to be there for me. You left right after my parents did, abandoning me like them. You took off without asking me how I felt about it. I would’ve braved every single person in town who thought they had the right to say something to or about you. Hell, I punched that guy last night in the face because he let your name fall from his lips. You’re worth the fight, Eddie. Even now.”

Steve’s so lost in his anger and resentment that it’s impossible to continue. If he says another word or thinks another thought, Steve’s positive he’s going to explode. There’s so much he wants to scream in Eddie’s face but none of it matters. Eddie is crying and Steve, despite the time and baggage between them, can’t stand to see the sight. No matter how often he wished to cause Eddie the same pain Steve deals with daily, he can’t deal with the reality of it. Without thought, both of his arms wrap around Eddie’s shoulders and pull until they’re chest to chest, hugging each other tightly.

For now, it’s the only thing they can give to each other, unresolved issues be damned. Steve knows that by the way all the fight leaves Eddie’s body. He feels it in the squeeze Eddie gives him back. There is no resolution or simple answers in sight. After so long, there might never be.

Leaning into Eddie’s touch, Steve comes to the conclusion that this right here, coming back together after years of miscommunication and anger, is everything and nothing, the perfectly imperfect way things work out following desperate hurt and sadness that separated entities meant to exist as one. There’s no way of knowing what happens next but Steve is content to rest in Eddie’s arms.

There, he is safe.

There, Steve can feel whole again.

In the moment, that’s all Steve really needs.

tag list (message if you’d like to be added): @infinite-orangepeel, @thefreakandthehair, @corrodedcoughin, @prettyboisteveharrington, 

[mrsfezziwig]

KQ - The Reason Ateez Don't Win Awards: (Pt 1)

n.b.(Good God I am actually scared of what reaction this may get from other Atiny but I feel like it is something I really need to address!)

Ateez are incredible;

as humans, as a group, as vocalists and as rappers, but their stand out ability comes in the way they perform and dance. I have never seen a group like these eight men when it comes to their star power; all of them could probably be in The Demon Line now they have matured, especially Yunho, who feels more relaxed on stage, more intense and he is most definitely not holding himself back anymore (That YunGi clothes grab in the Wonderland tour version, anyone? This Mrs Fezziwig was fanning herself like a Georgian Regency lady with a hand fan and blaming it on her age - hot flushes, you know... Oof! ). But anyone with a braincell can look at the lack of acknowledgement of their talents in terms of end of year award show nominations and wonder what the hell is going on?! It is incredibly irritating when people who deserve to have their hard work and talents celebrated are passed over again and again.

Now, this is where I just know I am going to be side-eyed, possibly bombastically, because I need to make comparisons in order to make my points as this is only about my opinion, and things I see other Atiny discussing on socials. In addition everyone knows how close the members of these two groups are as friends, hence why I am risking my sanity to say it:

The Comparison - Stray Kids

What makes Stray Kids so well awarded isn't just their agency, which has absolutely helped, with their money, organisation and longevity in the idol industry, but there's also the fact that they have practically carte blanche when it comes to the music they make. No body on this good, green Earth can ignore the sheer genius that is 3RACHA and their most common producer, Versachoi, when it comes to their abilities to write, compose and produce their songs.

Every emotion in the human pantheon of feeling is out there in a song available for fans to discover from their catalogue. Their forte is the musical freedom all the members contribute to the group.

SKZ hits harder because they are performing their own emotion out in song and dance, having three geniuses in one group is fated, no one can ever tell me otherwise... However, Ateez doesn't have that extra layer of connection even though the boys are still insanely versatile and make it work.

That's not the fault of the members, BBTrippin or even on some level the collective Edenary, they're all being told the same thing by the agency. It lies in the fact that those at the top want it to be this way.

I don't say this as a diss against Edenary, and I have yet to find a skip song on their albums. It is all impactful, musically, there is nothing but hit after hit on those but the lyrics just aren't up to par. Guerilla was about a fictional revolution, Halazia was about a fictional revolution from the outsider perspective, Bouncy was about an, um... fictional revolution and Crazy For-... Yeah, I am going to stop here.

KQ CEO-nim, I respectfully say:

Holy Fuck... Drop the fucking storyline into the b-side! Yep, you heard me right - Drop. The. Fucking. Storyline. From. The. Title. Tracks! Plllleeeeaaaaasssseee?

I am pretty sure all the inhabitants of Dimensions A and Z, and how ever many other of these buggers are hiding in the mind of the planners, shall collectively gasp dramatically 'Blasphemy!'

What a cardinal sin to suggest such a thing!!! Pre-debut Atiny are clutching their pearls and Diary Version albums as I speak such foul utterances, wondering how I could possibly have the very cheek of it to say such a thing! Do you think the boys will be proud of the dramatic delivery here? 😂

Yes, there are some moving and heart-wrenching b-sides on Ateez albums that are ignored for the scale of interdimensional time Pirates, which makes it increasingly, painfully obvious that those emotions are rare in their title tracks. So, I will make the point I've been moving up to with the comparison:

KQ need to let loose the reins

I first encountered Ateez in my initial journey with kpop in 2021 and I was in my 'BTS got me hooked, Stray Kids toppled them with Hellevator from my focus, and Ateez seems interesting...' era

Being 38 I felt kinda like some sort of sicko for finding guys I could have birthed attractive and I still have twinges of this feeling occasionally. Thankfully, none of the 5th Gen children are anything other than cute little babies to me, ones that I want to tut at, throwing appropriate clothing their way and ground them for going out in such tiny skirts and dresses. As you can imagine, finding Deja Vu as my first Ateez song sent me screeching dramatically away from the group, hands flapping and looking for a man my age to hide behind [thank you, Rain; you were extremely helpful during my mid-life-ish crisis].

So I continued on my way along up the endurance hike that is the Stray Kids path, again feeling slightly creeped out at myself for buying Oddinary, but also in absolute awe at the music these eight guys made. I still don't have a fucking clue what their storyline is, although it is coming more into focus thanks to the most recent SKZFLIX but that's kinda positive as it allows for their flexibility in terms of what they say and how it's performed and perceived.

At the core, I like their lyrical content better than Ateez, purely due to the fact it's visceral in its emotional impact. With a leader like Bang Chan, I haven't been surprised to find so many amazing fans out there too. Older STAYs I chat with on Discord have been my rock and support as I admitted my feelings of discomfort at the age thing and we figured out it was my STBX husband and his reaction to my new found hobby and likes that left me feeling so icky.

With their help, I finally got the courage up to accept that we were done after 20 years and I haven't missed him except for one occasion [I was facing a general anaesthetic to have a massive abscess on my jaw drained, all alone in a hospital about an hour from home with nobody at all to hold my hand] since he left in March. Every time I faced a backwards step emotionally because of my Ehler-Danlos Syndrome and my limitations, they were there to check on me.

This community is what makes Kpop the best rabbit hole I ever plunged into - stay away from Twitter (No, Elon, it isn't called 'X', it's called Twitter!) and the fans are such magnificently, genuine hearted people who just get me! For the first time in my life my sense of humour wasn't misinterpreted and rather slotted into place like this was where I was meant to be all along. When I found this tribe I was so lonely it was frightful, and it's only by being who I am today with their love and support I can look back at that version of myself and cry for her desperation and black-fog draped soul.

99% of the people in that chat are actually StayTiny, and they were discussing Halazia, insisting I really need to watch the MV. So I did, and as thankful I am for BTS getting me into Kpop and Stray Kids for finding me at my lowest then giving me my coping song in Voices, Ateez overtook them all in one MV. There is something about these guys that I connected with. That began my twisted path in April 2023 in learning names, songs and personality types that lead me to December and the drop of Crazy Form. Yet they may now be my Ult group, Stray Kids are my foundation in the world of idols. And no, I still can't handle Deja Vu no matter how many times I have tried to make it happen. So far I can get to the end of Yunho's opening but I can't take San with that haircut and eyebrows without cringing and backing out, which means I've progressed beyond the sexual feel of the song and am now firmly entrenched in 'Second-hand Embarrassment Station'.

Ateez could be much bigger if...

Despite the connection I found with these seven crackheads plus Jongho, instantly was thrown off by the incessant focus on the story of Ateez and dimension hopping, wondering where they were, as in where were the personal stories; the freedom of expression and grounding focus of reliving your experience in music?

If the story came in the form of a novel, I would be pre-ordering that shit off Amazon faster than I pre-order SKZ and Ateez albums. And I am not alone in this sentiment. After five years in the industry, these guys aren't newbies, they have the experience to handle the responsibilities of writing their own songs with guidance from Edenary and creating their own choreo alongside BBTrippin.

Hearing how the agency weaves the lore into every single MV and title track, I felt angry. I still am and am likely to always be, because if they let up and allowed the boys to display their joy, sorrow, happiness and agony in their songs and choreo, Ateez would be even greater, they'd be a force to be reckoned with particularly in the international market where they just work already. This is where BTS and Stray Kids have Ateez beat.

international fans have come to expect that the music is written and produced by the members of a group. Sure this could be argued as being a side effect of BTS getting so big, it's also a factor no one should discount.

Now, I shall move onto the part I love most: 'saying shit 'people who don't have a genetic pain disorder and who still have two flying fucks to give' won't...

The agency is responsible for the lack of mainstream recognition in terms of awards and fans because that oomph 3RACHA pour into their music is where the disparity lies.

With performers like the eight men in Ateez imagine them being up there on the VMAs stage getting all the praise... And the viral Taylor Swift reaction to match... Her reaction to Chan was just so relatable after all (be still my Swiftie/STAY/Atiny manic heart). I can't lie, the thought of them never being recognised in the mainstream before it's too late and they disband to focus on solo careers makes me tear up. Oh, that's so dramatic of me is what people who don't know Ateez will think,

'Ewwww... it's not that deep 🙄! Go touch some fucking grass and stop being so saesang coded' { Bitch, if I could go outside without dislocating my hip, I'd still be an Archaeologist! Is that enough grass and mud for you all?}

With a massive 'Wooyoung-thicc, baby-girl-twerking' ass BUT(t):

The thing is, it actually is that deep.

I am sick of spending comeback day piecing together the story point instead of looking at the video and lyrics and it's meaning. Which invariably is about the destruction of the dystopian universe. Don't Stop did the story telling in a way that made sense for what the video portrays and it works real fucking well (plus Mingi? Oooh, damn boyyy!). We understood it because it was all there to be found!

Imagine having that every comeback day, the 'falling out of bed at 5am to match KST' would be so much more enjoyable because there isn't any depth to plunder, it would be a {most definitely not} straight shooting banger or bopper or tear-mopper of a track, ALMOST ENTIRELY written and produced by the members for us to enjoy on repeat. Then a few days later the Edenary b-side/s with all the storyline desired would drop and we would be mentally prepared to disect every second of it because our thirst would have diminished to the 'reasonably manageable when those eight beautiful men plus San's chocolate bar abs are in the world' level.

Whilst I intended to make all my points in one post, I will split it up because of the length it's going to be... To be continued...

[nineofmeee]

Responsibility, Arrogance, Tolerance. A Dresden Dolls essay from a black girl.

On July 20th, 2022, I was confronted with the shocking consequence of my actions. That day I left a comment below one of the Dresden Dolls posts. The post was a poster for one of their upcoming return tours and in response, I commented a hilarious and creative comment that showed my excitement for this announcement and the love I had for the duo.

Nineofmee: "Big day for racists!

In a SHOCKING turn of events, I was banned from their Instagram account, and still feel this sting to this day....."Why did I do that?" I thought. "What did I learn from this experience?" I questioned...

"How should I feel about the Dresden Dolls?"

The Dresden Dolls, Pioneers of the dark cabaret/punk-cabaret scene in the early 2000s, were represented by Amanda (fucking) Palmer and Brian Viglione. The two of them performed for many years and released two full-length LPs an EP and live albums galore. The duo frequented hiatus for personal and career purposes causing their activity as the Dresden Dolls to be far and in between, but in 2020 when they officially announced their reunion and are currently playing shows all around. The social climate they left in the 2010s would not be one they'd return to in the 2020s because something shifted when it came to the Dresden Dolls name; something they didn't have an abundance of before that they now have.

A spotlight.

"Plus my only natural talents wasted on my alcoholic friends.."-The Dresden Dolls.

TikTok is a double-edged sword. Through all the corruption and bad media overstimulation that the brains of millions around the world experience, the app allows once unheard-of artists to be readily available and gain some traction, boosting their careers. This is exactly what Amanda and Brian found themselves benefiting from. My Alcoholic Friends spread like wildfire on a specific side of the app and introduced many people to the Dresden Dolls.

Not far after, another Amanda Palmer project gained traction around TikTok to...let's call it "mixed reviews", and from this many people got more interested in the question of who Amanda Palmer was outside of the Dresden Dolls, and up from the depths of the internet came;

WARNING! I WILL BE GOING INTO OLD AND ACKNOWLAGED CONTROVERSIES HERE! GIVE ME A SECOND TO EXPLAIN WHY I BRING THIS UP!

"Fuck the police comin' straight from the underground A Young n**** got it bad 'cause I'm brown And not the other color so police think..."-N.W.A

N.W.A, a hip-hop group from Compton, California sings about police brutality from the perspective of being African-American men in America...and Amanda Palmer also sings along for some fucking reason. It was in 2009 when Amanda Palmer started to perform these ukelele covers and at the time apparently; she was not aware she should probably not say the N-word as a white woman? Amanda Palmer has a long statement on her blog apologizing for her arrogance surrounding the use of this racial slur, but here's where I want to flip this post to be a little less of an essay and more of a personal statement.

As a black woman, I do not forgive her arrogance.

Amanda Palmer has apologized and I'm not asking for anything with this post here, I'm just simply conceptualizing my feelings. Amanda Palmer in a video interview talks about her feelings about being flamed on the internet and her feelings on "Radical Compassion" What is Radical Compassion? Well, it is the idea that "even in the moment when you strongly disagree with someone (ect...) you have to approach every last motherfucker with a massive dose of compassion knowing that they're just as human as you..." Kindly, I think this excuse to deflect full responsibility. Even in her blog she says and "this is to remind you that nothing progresses within a vacuum, that we are in a relationship. we are a unit, you and me.." If this isn't to shame her audience or deflect blame then, why bring up other people in your apology? Also, Amanda Palmer is notorious for not hearing people out in her career, standing on her opinions as strong as a cement pole. I will forever continue to acknowledge their music, their history, their impact on my life, but I don't think it is fair to be asked to not be angry about this. If Amanda Palmer didn't understand it's impact then why did she add it to her song Guitar Hero where she uses it in a derogatory to prove a point about how much the word weighs? If Amanda Palmer didn't understand it's impact why would she change the inflection of the word from an "a" suffix to an "er" suffix? How punk and non-racist are you if you don't think and reflect on that maybe a little bit. Black people aren't here to educate you on what you should and shouldn't be saying, google it. Lear history. Use your privilege. Don't be arrogant.

What does this have to do with The Dresden Dolls?

Amanda Palmer is half of the band, I support the band I support Amanda. I don't want to directly finance her, but i struggle to ignore her importance to me. She was someone really important to me but, i am so sick of being told by people to forgive them for mistakes surrounding my race, my person, she's aware of her actions, she isn't a child. 2015 was the last time she performed this cover and embarrassed herself in front of her fans. It isn't OUR JOB to educate you. That, in a whole is where I stand.

Thanks for reading this and, please comment any comments that pop in to your mind! I love to further conversations and challenge my own opinions! In the words of Amanda Palmer; "I talk, you listen. We're a unit," except I'm not saying slurs I shouldn't say and trying to deflect the blame.

Cited Sorces: “Amanda Palmer on Abortion, Cancel Culture, and Australia’s Bushfires | Junkee.” YouTube, YouTube, 5 Feb. 2020, www.youtube.com/watch?v=fN9JtncxF5o&t=1s. “On Racism, Words, Art, Time and Progress.” Amanda Palmer Blog, 22 June 2020, blog.amandapalmer.net/racism-words-art-time-progress/.

[taesenigma]

illicit affairs | taekook

pairing : top!taehyung x bottom!jungkook (ft. jimin)

genre : idol au, infidelity au, acquaintances to lovers, cheating au, taehyung having a daddy kink, usually shy jungkook is a sassy bottom, oral (both receiving), smut (a little bit), anal (both receiving), angst, fluff, messy breakup au, 18+🔞

trigger warnings : infidelity, same sex smut, mentions of abuse and r@pe

summary : it began in beautiful rooms...but will they let it end up in parking lots? it was just illicit affairs and clandestine meetings and longing stares. he made him reach his ecstasy, showed him the different colours through his kaleidoscope and taught him a language only they understood. but, could it ever be more? could it be real?

a/n : i have been hearing too much of t.swift's folklore album and i'm obsessed with this song. so, i recommend listening to the song illicit affairs and also, high infidelity (midnights) by taylor swift while reading this.

note : this is all fiction. i don't support cheating or infidelity in real life. also, taehyung and jungkook are actual people and i do not claim to know them personally. so, their personalities might be totally different in here from what they are in real life. if you're new to this fandom, please don't think that this is how they really are. get to know them before you read it.

PROLOGUE - COCKTAIL PARTY

"Fancy seeing you here, Kim Taehyung. I thought you hated anything bitter.", Jungkook approached him at the bar. "This was unavoidable. You must be well aware why." Jungkook chuckled as he seated himself at the bar, ordering another drink. Unless you had a wish to terminate your career in the kpop industry, you attended Rain sunbaenim's cocktail parties. The two men didn't talk much the entire evening. But no matter how much Jungkook tried to ignore the gorgeous man sitting beside him the entire evening, he felt himself sneaking furtive glances at the composed individual sipping his drink gracefully.

"Jeon Jungkook, you're a difficult man to find these days. Seeing as to how you're our rising star, the industry's very own Golden Boy.", Rain himself came over to the bar to address the shy man. "Sunbaenim, I love the party. And I'm always available to attend your parties, you know that.", Jungkook said effortlessly with a young boyish smile. Rain seemed to be pleased with the answer as he moved on to Taehyung.

"I thought you'd be a no-show at this party too. After all, you couldn't be bothered to show up at the rest of them.", he accused Taehyung as he signalled the bartender for a drink. Taehyung merely sipped on his drink casually while Jungkook watched in gross fascination as to how he had the nerve to make their sunbae wait for an answer. "I simply know where my best interests lie at." "You never change, Kim Tae. The same cunning.", Rain chuckled, not offended at all by the blunt answer as he began talking about the stock market economics which Jungkook decided to tune out.

Perhaps, that was the exact moment he'd pinpoint when he had felt a sort of fascination – no, attraction – for Kim Taehyung, the man two years older than him, known for his voice from which honey notes dripped, literally. But, he also had the notorious reputation of being a player which caused Jungkook to be a bit weary of him. "Earth to, Jeon. Sunbae's been calling on you for the past 5 minutes.", Taehyung's voice invaded his personal thoughts as his eyes shot up to his questioning sunbae's gaze.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's been a stressful week.", Jungkook apologised softly as he immersed himself into a conversation with Rain. Now, it was Taehyung's turn to admire the youngest star in the industry. He felt himself wanting to capture those perfectly shaped gorgeous lips within his teeth. To make those doe eyes stare up at him in fascination and have sinful moans fall from those lips as he fucked his pert little hole...

At that moment, he felt something twitch between his legs as such sinful thoughts erupted in his mind. Feeling his cheeks turning maroon and blood rushing to his crotch, he felt it best to excuse himself and take care of his little situation in the restroom. "Excuse me, sunbae. I have to leave early tonight.", he said in a composed voice even though his heart was racing and his dick pulsating painfully.

"Oh boy! You haven't even seen my grand finale for the evening yet!", he grumbled. "Perhaps next time, hyung. I have a situation at present.", he said with a shrug although he fixed his dark gaze on the boy sitting beside his sunbae, as if it was his fault that he was going through this predicament.

"Well, it can't be helped now, can it?", Rain said with a small frown on his crestfallen face to which Taehyung merely shrugged and gave Jungkook another pointed look to which Jungkook bit his bottom lip, making Taehyung's head spin imagining himself to be the one biting down on Jungkook's luscious lips.

Mumbling something, he left the bar and almost sprinted towards the restroom and unbuckling his jeans, pulled out his red pulsating dick and tried stroking it to the image of the blonde guy he was dating. "Um.....Taehyung?", a meek voice sounded at the entrance of the doorway. Taehyung's eyes shot up to encounter a shy and timid Jungkook standing at the doorway.

Taehyung's smirk returned to his face as he began stroking himself in front of the boy. "Having fun seeing the crime you've committed, huh? Pretty boy likes looking at dick, doesn't he?", Taehyung shot the words at Jungkook who looked utterly taken aback. "I-I'm sorry...", Jungkook muttered as he averted his gaze from Taehyung's dick.

"Want to help solve the problem, pretty boy?", Taehyung questioned as Jungkook's shocked gaze met Taehyung's teasing and manipulative one. "I-I....do you want me to?", he asked instead. Taehyung shrugged and gave him a knowing smile.

A smile he had seen endless number of people falling prey to. And Jungkook was no different.

[luxpenumbra]

ugh ohmygod so I saw this post and it made me so mad that I simultaneously wanted to reblog it just to rant in the tags and to not reblog it so that I could avoid sharing it with /more/ people

listen. music is universal. when a singer, songwriter, producer, lyricist, musician, team puts something out into the world, there may be emotions that they are trying to put into it. They will draw on these emotions as they perform and edit and refine this thing they are making. There may be a story they are trying to tell, an experience they are trying to communicate, and this may not be straightforward; there is a level of abstraction between conceptualization and realization that I am convinced exists to some level in all pieces of art like this. This is not a flaw; this is marvellous. When I the listener interact with a song, or an album, or an artist's entire body of work - the emotions that I feel and the story that is conveyed to me may be just. absolutely different from the artist's intentions and their own experience. It may resonate with me in an entirely different way than intended; it may resonate with someone else in a separate, distinct, discrete way. My and others' awareness of the artist and any context they have made clear may play a part in this or it may not; it depends on how I interact with music and how readily available this information is.

All this is to say: the only fucked up thing with this whole gaylor shit is the part where people are convinced that their interpretation of her music and the way it resonates with them indicates some fundamental truth about her identity. The only person who knows that is her and frankly it's none of anyone else's business and it's probably not that interesting anyway. But!!! this does not mean that her music cannot resonate with someone's experience of queerness!!!! It is story and song and a vehicle for emotion, and the details that make something sing true to someone's life and values are not pinned to the artist's "true identity" like a fuckin. butterfly to a corkboard. there is VALUE and DELIGHT in being aware of some additional dimension of queerness by virtue of the singers intentions or identity or whatever but that's a fucking BONUS you NIMRODS the only thing you need is a heart to feel things and a song to feel them about it's about YOU and how you interpret things. you change things just by existing!!! the only person to experience a song the way you do is YOU!!! "if I wanna listen to gay music I'll listen to gay ppl singing about gay sex" good for you!! but what a sad and limited life you must lead to need the significance and meaning of art spoonfed to you by author bios.

AND THEN. fucking condescending ass AAAAAAAH listen. christian rock can slap. i say this as someone who is markedly not christian. and even if you don't think it slaps that's fine. but the fact that someone's out here going "oh poor limited babies who've never listened to real proper good music before projecting sasanaru onto christian rock because they've never known anything else" grow uppppp!!! first of all!!! nobody. NOBODY. is out here saying 10,000 reasons by matt whatever is about sasuke and naruto kissing. you know this in your heart of hearts, just like you know deep down that there is VALUE in eking out meaning in places where you don't expect to find it, and in places that have some connection to the earliest parts of you. (and even if you aren't doing this, aren't interacting with the context of the music and its genre, see above re:universal fucking language). you've probably done it before. it's tumblr, land of transformative works and webweaving of course you have. how limited in scope must you be to think that people who listen to a genre you don't value but who are also queer or something must be just poor deprived children, limited in resource, waiting for that next evolution i'm gonna weep. anyway listen to relient k cowards