#and the songs/ballads are going to stuck in her head

[money-and-dandellions]

so um a headcanon of Lester singing ballads and ballad-like songs (like, eight minutes long) at camp half-blood campfire or while he and Meg were driving through the States.

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Track list for Fig and the Cig Figs independently published Junior Year album (officially named “Infaethable”)

Teenage Rebellion

Night Yorb (a heavy metal banger)

Summer Scaries

Devils Nectar

Time Quangle (a love song about Ayda)

Multiclass (Gorgug sings on this!)

The Ballad Of Lucy Frostblade (Kristen was the one who convinced Fig to write this)

So Late, So Tactical

Do You Have A Fucking Warrant

Cassandra (Can You Hear Me)

Hall Of Mirrors

President Applebees (written entirely in the night after Kristen gets elected by a drunk Fig with extremely drunk notes by Kristen)

Raging For Love (inspired by Gorgug, of course)

The Elven Oracle (Has A Day Job) (So Stop Bothering Her)

Maximum Legend

Fury Of The Ball

Cursed

Infaethable

The Bad Kids

[bluetimeombre]

: ̗̀➛ Call it what you want to

You're an up-coming star, staring in some hit movies like Hunger games Ballad of songbirds and snakes and now Wonka, along the Timothee Chalamet.

[i'm obsessed with my man and just need to ignore the fact he's dating someone that isn't me. anyway, you're an up-coming actress who stared in the new hunger games movie and now you're also staring in wonka, the people love you and maybe, so does a co-star of yours] not proof read. this was very fun to write so maybe i'll do more, if anyone likes it. or just for me

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... tayrussell, joshandresrivera, tomblyth, sadiesink_, tchalamet & others

yourusername: wonka press tour starts now!

809k likes. 304k comments

user: wait, you're in wonka?!

user: I LOVE YOU!!

user: mother giving us content, as always

tchalamet: now you've posted can you come up and help me

yourusername: no

tchalamet: pls!!!

user: omg she really said no to timothee chalamet, who does she thin she is?

user: slayyyy

user: isn't wonka supposed to suck

tomblyth: from one press tour to another, i see

yourusername: girls got to earn a living

tomblyth: she doesn't let the grass grow

user: say hi to timothee for me!!!!

user: omg how is she getting all the hottest guys in hollywood rn? gurl leave some for us

wonkamovie: 😍😍

balladofsongbirdsandsnakes: 😍😍😍

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you were flicking through comments by your friends when your phone started to ring, the familiar picture of your co-star flicking up on your phone. quickly, you dimissed yourself from your assistant and took the call. 'yes?'

'I need your help.'

'Timothee, you're old enough to zip up your own jacket,' you tease, leaning on the wall.

'I don't know what jumper to wear, what are you wearing? we'll coordinate.'

you'd opted for something of your own style. a jumper with pinks and blues and a white flowering skirt with a ring almost on every finger. this was only your second big press tour and sitting next to timothee chalamet every day for it was enough to make you nervous. so nervous you woke every morning wondering if you'd throw up. it didn't help you were also surrounded by others you'd looked up to, like olivia coleman and hugh grant. how were you supposed to keep your cool for months. even if now you were considered just as big a star.

'don't you have a stylist for this?' you ask, looking at the crew around, ready to go but waiting for him.

'there's three options and i don't know which one to go for. can't you just come up.'

you could, sure. go to timothee's hotel room and see him probably shirtless. once you'd have dreamt of it, but things were different, now you just didn't have a silly celebrity crush. now he was your co-star and very off limits.

'option two now come on, please.' quickly, you end the call and pick up your coffee, heading to the room where you'd be sat for the next eight hours answering questions with timothee.

you were there first, shaking hands with the interviewer and introducing yourself to her. you took your seat, making little chatter before timothee chalamet walked in, calm, cool and collected. completely different to your flushed and smiling expression.

you watched as he quickly said hello to everyone in the room and greeted the lady who'd be conducting the interview.

timothee turned to you, arms out wide and waiting. laughing, you put your coffee down and stood up, giving him a hug. you shared small pleasantries before he took his seat next to you, shuffling around and settling in. only then did you realise how much your jumpers looked the same, both smudges of similar colours. you blushed more as timothee watched, silently wondering what could make you so red. as if he had no idea what he did to you just by sitting down next to him.

'I have had scrub scrub stuck in my head since seeing the movie,' she- charline, said as you and timothee laugh. 'do you guys have a favourite song you got to perform?'

'I mean, pure imagination was quite a surreal experience. you know, getting to sing something that was so ... iconic, it was-it was a lot of fun. and a lot of pressure, but, in a good way,' said timothee.

'you killed it,' you assure, casually.

'thank you,' he smiled.

'i really enjoyed you've never had chocolate like this number. that was just so fun, the dancing and all,' you say, timothee nodding and agreeing.

'for a moment was fun to, i guess,' added timothee. 'we got to dance.'

you grin at the memory. 'we did.' you remembered the a million takes, timothee singing practically to you while prancing around. it was your favourite scene to shoot because it was such an easy and happy scene. you didn't have to think about it, just held timmy's hand as he twirled you around the place.

'and i know we're here to talk about wonka but i just have to say-' she gestured to you, 'congratulations on hunger games, biggest movie in the world.'

you wave her off, thanking her as timmy claps for you. 'thank you, thank you.'

'i was wondering what was your favourite song to film there on that set and how does it compare to singing on this one.'

ranting about yourself or your achievements was always hard for you. your stardom and come so quickly with hunger games and wonka, so much so you felt like you didn't deserve half of it.

'i mean, for hunger games it was all live. i sang them there and then so that's daunting in itself, um. i loved filming pure as the driven snow, just because i got to- essentially- sing it to tom. it was just him and me and the crew, like for those shots there was no extra's so that was great fun. a special moment. and singing it to him made it a whole lot easier. whereas on this movie, luckily it was all like pre-recorded so, not so daunting. didn't have to sing in front of timothee chalamet,' you say.

he listened carefully to you, seeing your smile at mentioning tom blyth, your co-star from the hunger games. he'd never met the guy, he was probably lovely- from the amount you talked about him. 'you've got a great singing voice.'

'thanks man.'

'this cast is just so insane and obviously you two got close during filming,' says charline, gesturing to the two of you.

timothee nudged you with his head, like he'd done a thousand times before knowing how much you secretly loved it. just like a horse, as had been quoted.

'who's more british, olivia or hugh?'

'hugh, easily,' you say. you loved all of hugh's movies, but you'd never say that to his face.

'you know, i'm gonna go and say you,' says timothee, turning to you.

you drop you jaw, pointing to yourself. yes, you were british, but more so than than the hugh grant seemed impossible. 'me?'

'yea, i mean, hugh grant is like a walking union jack- and i mean that in the best way possible, but you seem so much more like british. you know, wicked sense of humor and the charm and- you love london,' he pointed out.

'i do love london,' you agreed.

'did you have fun filming in england, timothee?' she asked.

they want on and on to talk about filming the movie, answering questions in depth and it was sure the two of you had great answers, listening intently together and everyone could tell. your chemistry was there, your smiles and answers together were almost so perfect it was like it was practiced and the fans ate it up!

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liked by... zendaya, mtv, kyliejenner, yourusername, wbpictures & others

tchamalmet: WONKA!!! coming soon

tagged: yourusername

1.1m likes, 609k comments

user: he posted! he posted!

user: we are getting FED

user: i just know this is all yourusername influence

user: not kylie liking...

user: statistics! statistics!

liked by yourusername

yourusername: bring back little timmy tim!

yourusername: out of all the pictures you chose that one

user: anyone else think her and timmy are getting too close

user: like fr she stealin my man

user: i love them!!!

user: i swear something is going on with her and tom blyth

user: she's just like us!

user: LOVE!!!!!

user: her and timmy >>> him and kylie

user: plssss, i love kylie

user: is wonka a musical

user: TIMMY I WANT TO HAVE YOUR CHILDREN!!!

user: fave bob dylan song?

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liked by... tomblyth, rachelzeglar, tchalamet, hunterschafer, zendaya & others

yourusername: ballad of song birds and snakes is number one movie? more like i'm the number one most grateful person out there for this chance and being trusted with my girl lucy-grey!!! thank you, thank you, thank you!!

tagged: tomblyth

1m likes 477k comments

tomblyth: lots of love my dear !

user: pls the second picture was so unncesary she just wanted to post it

user: MOTHER

user: parents are parenting

user: I LOVED THIS FILM

user: tom blyth is honestly so hot like wtf

rachelzeglar: my luv <3

yourusername: omg my gf everybody!!!!

joshandresrivera: funny how you don't post a picture of me

yourusername: it's funny because i don't like you

joshandresrivera: tomblyth you gonna let her talk to me like that??

tomblyth: she's the boss

user: how is she so amazing in everything

user: wonder how she got this job? she's literally as plain as a plank

user: hi!

user: the film was insane, i'm obsessed

user: i need this film injected into my veins

user: she's so good at singing, get her on broadway!!!

tchalamet: very proud

yourusername liked tchalamet's comment

user: why would you post the second pic unless they're clearly dating

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user: pls why do i ship them so hard!!

user: lol it looks like he's just refusing to answer questions without her

user: is nobody gonna talk about how they were basically wearing the same jumpers?

user: no because i thought the exact same thing

user: someone pointed it out in an interview and timothee said it was 100% planned, they're so cute

user: doesn't he have a girlfriend?

user: isn't she with tom blyth? they look like they're together?

user: they haven't confirmed it

user: they don't need to did you see her post on instagram?! it was all just him

user: no but the way she's just constantly blushing around him

user: so would you if you were sat next to the timothee chalamet

[punkshort]

Roommates | 9. hold onto each other

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You build up enough courage to finally talk things out with Joel and tell him how you feel before the wedding is over.

Chapter Warnings: language, food and alcohol consumption, lots of smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral (f!receiving), pussy pronouns, fluff, discussions of mental health, shower sex, mirror sex, having sex while on the phone (don't know what else to call it, also don't know if that requires a warning), thigh fucking?, dirty talk, idiots in love

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I will not apologize for what you're about to read. (It's filth. Pure, unadulterated filthy smut).

Series Masterlist

"That is the man you were roommates with?" your mother asked enviously as she gazed at Joel across the dance floor, who was standing with another groomsman while he held up his mom's pink sparkly phone to record her dancing with Tommy.

"Yep," you said longingly, tearing your eyes away from him to look back at your mom. She tilted her head to the side and her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

"He looks familiar."

Your eyes widened and you tried your best not to scream into the palms of your hands as images of your own mother stumbling across Joel's porn filled your head.

She snapped her fingers with a smile. "Mitch and I saw him at the bar the other night! He must have been helping Tommy, he was carrying boxes of alcohol."

You shook your head. "No, Mom, that couldn't have been him."

"No, I'm certain it was. I remember even telling Mitch at the time they looked alike. And I would never forget those arms. The way they practically burst out of his T-shirt-"

"Mom!" you whined, begging her to stop.

She chuckled and took a sip of her wine. "Oh, please, let me have my fun."

You groaned and drank the rest of your champagne. Well, at least she didn't recognize him from porn.

The song changed to another ballad and you watched as Mrs. Miller kissed Tommy on the cheek before breaking away and motioning towards Joel. A small smile tugged at your lips as he pocketed her phone and took her hand before leading her around the dance floor. His face was filled with such love and adoration that it made your heart melt.

As you continued to watch Joel and his mother move around the dance floor, you felt yourself growing nervous again. Now that the cake was cut and the first dances were done, most of the significant parts of the wedding were over. Which meant soon you would need to muster the courage to talk to Joel.

Fuck, maybe you should have one more drink.

No, you didn't want to be drunk when you told him. He needed to know you meant what you said. You've done enough to him in the past year, jerking him around and unintentionally hurting his feelings. If you had any shot in hell, you had to make sure you were somewhat clearheaded.

Your mother was just finishing up her cake when she looked over your shoulder. Her eyes lit up excitedly and she straightened up in her seat, smoothing down her dress. With a frown, you turned to see what she was looking at then felt your heart skip a beat when you saw Joel approaching.

"Evenin'," he said to your mother, his voice deep and syrupy. "I'm Joel, brother of the groom." He stuck out his hand and your mother giddily handed hers over while giving her name. He brought her knuckles to his lips and she giggled, making you roll your eyes.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she gushed, her cheeks tinting pink already.

"Pleasure's all mine, ma'am," he answered, dropping her hand with a smirk. She gave you a look and raised her eyebrows.

"Ma'am, did you hear that?" she loudly whispered to you.

"Yes, I am sitting right here," you said flatly.

Joel cleared his throat and you looked back up at him.

"Was wonderin' if I could have this dance," he said to you, then glanced at your mother. "If you could spare her, that is."

Your mother giggled again and waved him off. "Of course! You two have fun, I was getting ready to go home soon anyway."

You quickly said your goodbyes to your mom before allowing Joel to lead you out onto the dance floor. He took one of your hands and held it out to your side, the other sliding around your waist while you rested your hand on his shoulder with a smile.

"I'm so honored," you told him with a teasing lilt to your voice as he slowly lead you around the dance floor.

"Why?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"I haven't seen you dancing with anyone else except your mom."

He smirked and tilted his chin up to look somewhere over the top of your head. "You been watchin' me?"

Your cheeks warmed from embarrassment but you didn't really care. "Maybe."

He hummed, smirk still stretched across his lips as he looked around the banquet room, but he wasn't really looking at anyone or anything in particular.

"You look handsome."

His eyebrows shot up and he looked down at you once again. "Thank you?"

You giggled and felt his fingers grip your waist a little tighter. "Is that a question?"

He grinned and shook his head. "Tryin' to flatter me, what're you up to?"

The butterflies began to stir in your belly once again so you dropped your gaze. "Well, there is something I wanted to talk to you about."

The smile slowly slid from his face when he heard the serious tone to your voice. "Everythin' okay?"

"Y-yeah, everything's fine," you quickly assured him. Just then, Michael Bublé's voice faded out and the DJ picked a Black Eyed Peas song that instantly caused the dance floor to break out into cheers, completely ruining the atmosphere from a moment ago. "Nevermind," you said as you attempted to step away, but he tightened his grip. "I'll tell you some other time."

"Tell me now."

You winced when a handful of girls nearby began to drunkenly scream along to the lyrics. Joel looked frustrated when he finally dropped his hand from your waist but kept his other hand firmly wrapped around yours. "Follow me."

He lead you through the crowd and as you passed by your abandoned table, you grabbed your clutch. Shit. Were you really going to do this? Were you really going to pour your heart out to him in the middle of his brother's wedding? What if he shot you down? What if he got mad at you for trying to drag him into your messy life once again? What if you were about to ruin the fragile relationship you just rebuilt?

He pulled you into the lobby, which was relatively empty given the time of night, and found a small area with a few couches and chairs and a television airing the local news on mute with the closed captioning on.

"Alright," he urged when you sat down next to him on one of the couches. You could hear the bass thumping from the closed banquet room and people's laughter echoing over the music, but otherwise it was quiet. You fiddled with the hem of your dress, trying to give your nerves a chance to settle, but it was no use.

"So, I told you I've been in therapy," you began, staring down at your lap, pretending to find a loose thread in your dress.

"Mhm."

"Lately, I've been working on my insecurities and self destructive tendencies. Specifically, related to you."

His fingers that were once casually tapping on the back of the sofa suddenly stopped.

"Okay..." he said slowly.

You cleared your throat and kept your eyes pinned to your lap.

"... and your job," you added, biting the inside of your cheek. "I've been working on... learning to be okay with it. Focusing on the source of my insecurities and why I feel the way I feel about it and I think I've made some progress."

"That's... good," he told you, clearly confused. "But why are you tellin' me this?"

You sucked in a deep breath and forced yourself to look at him. He was staring at you softly with his perfect lips pouting so enticingly, giving you the final bit of courage you needed to say what you wanted to say.

"I'm telling you this because... because I want to be with you, Joel. If you'll give me another chance, I want to do this right." His expression remained unchanged so you barreled ahead. "I don't care about your job. Not anymore. I just want to be with you. You make me happy, you make me laugh, I think about you all the time." You were growing more nervous with every passing second where he didn't say anything, so you continued to fill the silence with your own rambling thoughts. "Any time something good happens, I want to call you. Any time something bad happens, I want to call you. It's always you. It's always been you. And I'm sorry for everything I put you through and I'm sorry it's taken me so long to fix myself, but I couldn't -"

"Stop."

Your words died in your throat at his harsh tone. Biting your lip, you closed your eyes and tried not to cry as you waited for the sting of his rejection, but to your surprise, it never came. Instead, you felt his fingers gently pinch your chin. You opened your eyes to find him leaning forward, his gaze seeming angry despite his soft touch.

"You don't need to fix yourself," he said bitterly. "You're fuckin' perfect."

You exhaled loudly, a dry chuckle slipping past your lips as you wiped away a tear or two. "I'm not."

"You are," he told you firmly before finally closing the distance between you and brushing his lips softly against yours. "You are," he whispered again and again, each sweet kiss becoming more urgent than the last. You grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands and held him close, pressing your mouth against his tightly before leaning back and pushing your foreheads together with a smile.

"Is that a yes?" you laughed.

"'Course it is, you kiddin' me?" he said quietly before sliding his hand up to grip the back of your neck, his nose gently nudging yours, the both of you taking a few tender moments to soak everything in with matching smiles. "I should probably tell you somethin', though."

One hand dropped from his collar and you tipped your head back a fraction so you could look him in the eye. "What?"

He grinned and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I quit my job."

Your eyes widened and you leaned all the way back in surprise. "What?!"

"Months ago, actually," he said with a laugh. You smacked him on the shoulder but you weren't mad. In fact, you were smiling so much it almost hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I didn't wanna pressure you. You said you were workin' on yourself and all that."

Your lower lip trembled and you smacked his shoulder again, but with less force. "I can't believe you," you whispered before tugging him forward and sliding your tongue past his lips with a moan. There was something so beautiful to be had in that moment. Each of you had done something monumental to try to make it work between you and it was so moving, so powerful that you found yourself getting carried away, completely forgetting where you were as you climbed into his lap, his hands immediately dropping to squeeze your ass. But who could blame you, when you've waited so long for that moment?

Joel pulled his head back with a sharp inhale, breaking the kiss when he heard a door across the lobby open and close. "Do you... we oughta... they're probably wonderin' where we are." He lifted one arm so he could check the time on his watch, then glanced back up at you. You were staring down at him, breathless and needy, your eyes already drifting back down to his mouth.

You didn't need to say anything.

"Fuck it, c'mon," he said, quickly lifting you off his lap so you could both stand. In your eagerness to race to the elevator, you almost forgot your purse. Doubling back as fast as your heels would carry you, you grabbed it from the couch and hurried back just as the elevator doors opened.

He jabbed the L4 button numerous times until the damn doors slid shut.

"Christ, wanted this for so long," he whispered, eyes squeezing shut when you pushed him up against the side of the elevator. "Wanted you for so long," he corrected himself after a moment. Your mouth found the exposed patch of chest at the top of his shirt and your tongue slipped out between your lips, flicking against his skin as you continued to leave wet kisses everywhere you could find. You made it to the hollow of his throat when the elevator dinged and you tore yourself away to drag him down the hall.

"Which room?"

"Don't care."

You picked yours. Your fingers were shaking as you raked through your small clutch, then tapped the hard plastic against the sensor, getting frustrated when you were going too quick and the door wouldn't open. Joel chuckled behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, digging his hips against your ass so you could feel his arousal through your clothes.

"Not helping," you muttered before forcing yourself to slow down and finally the door gave way and you stumbled inside.

His mouth was on you in an instant. Eager lips pressed against your own, champagne soaked tongues reunited, tangling together while you recklessly shoved his tuxedo coat over his shoulders, leaving it crumpled on the floor near the bathroom as you made your way to the bed.

Joel's hands slid up and down the back of your dress, fingers plucking at the fabric, trying to locate the zipper without having to pull away. You tugged one of his hands to your side without looking, blindly leading him to his target. He smiled against your lips and yanked the zipper down so fast, he nearly tore the fabric.

Leaving your dress in a pile at the foot of your bed, you pulled away from the kiss so you could fall back onto the mattress. Your chests were heaving in unison as you both fought for air, staring at one another, anticipation growing thick.

His eyes drifted down your almost naked body while his fingers worked the buttons on his dress shirt, lips parted to suck in more air as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Is this real?" he asked, eyes catching yours once again after he shrugged off his shirt.

"I think so," you replied quietly, sounding just as incredulous. "I hope so."

He loudly unbuckled his belt, then the fly of his pants as you laid before him, sprawled out over the plush comforter like an offering.

"Ain't ever lettin' you go after this," he warned as he stepped out of his pants. "Never again, hear me?"

You nodded. "Please don't."

He cupped his palms around the backs of your knees and tugged, pulling you to the edge of the bed with one rough motion.

"As pretty as these are, they gotta go," he murmured, hooking his fingers around the lace edge of your panties and sliding them down your legs. A little pained sound rumbled in the back of his throat when he spread your knees and saw the evidence of your arousal between your legs. He fell to his knees and rested the side of his face against your thigh as he gazed down at your aching center.

"Missed you," he whispered lovingly into your folds before dragging his tongue, slow and broad, through the entire length of your slit.

"Oh, my god," you whined when his lips puckered around your clit and gently sucked. "Were you talking to me or her?"

You felt his lips twitch against your sensitive skin and released your bundle of nerves with a little moan. "Was talkin' to her but I missed you, too."

Some sharp, sarcastic comment was on the verge of slipping past your lips but quickly got swallowed down and forgotten when he began to lick, his tongue probing into your cunt while his upper lip pressed against your clit. The friction from his beard on the most sensitive part of your body made you see stars. Your back arched and you cried out his name, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he continued to lick and suck with a deep groan.

"Joel," you whimpered, legs weakly stretching and kicking under his ministrations. He quickly put a stop to that by grabbing both and tossing them over his shoulders then using his hands to grip your thighs, but still you writhed in his hold.

"Y'got know idea what you do to me," he whispered under his breath before diving back in.

"Fuck... I-I can't..." you panted, fists grabbing the comforter, pulling and tugging, desperate to grab onto anything. His fingers dug into the crease of your thighs, holding your hips against his face, fucking you relentlessly with his tongue as if he were afraid he would never get a chance to do it again.

He slid one hand flat over your mound and pressed down on your clit with his thumb. You bucked off the bed, everything feeling too sensitive, too sharp. But still, he pinned you down, his tongue that was once lapping at your pussy suddenly more focused and calculated when his lips puckered together in favor of loudly kissing your sex with a deep groan.

With two quick and firm circles over your clit, you fell apart. He was saying something, you could feel the vibrations of his voice, but you had no idea what he said. Your throat had grown hoarse, fingers grabbing for his hair while your heart pounded in your ears.

"It ain't ever been like this," he said, and finally you were able to understand him. You slowly opened your eyes to find him hovering over you, his beard and mouth shiny with your slick and his eyes so wide and soft it made your chest ache.

"I know," you whispered, running a hand through his hair. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed when you pulled him close and pressed your mouth against his. He pushed you up the bed so your head rested on the pillows, never once breaking the deep kiss. It was slower, now. There was no rush, no need to hurry to keep what you had a secret.

"Shit, my condoms are 'cross the hall," he mumbled against your lips. The very last thing he wanted to do was leave you. Not now. Not ever.

"Just make sure you pull out," you told him, apparently also unwilling to let him leave, and reached down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his thick length.

"Y-yeah, okay... okay," he breathed when he felt you line him up with your entrance.

His brain went numb and his features went slack as he slowly eased inside you. He couldn't take his eyes off your face; the way your eyebrows pinched together and the sound you made when you gasped softly, your body being forced to adjust to his size after months without him.

"Fuck," you whispered, eyes welling with tears as you gazed up at him.

"I know, I know," he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over your nose.

"Joel, I love you," you whimpered in his ear when he finally buried himself fully inside you.

"What?" he asked breathlessly, certain he misunderstood.

"I love you," you repeated, your teeth nipping at his chin as you writhed underneath him, willing him to move. His eyes squeezed shut and he wrapped his arms around your middle, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"I love you, too," he choked out, voice thick with emotion that he tried to stifle with kisses to your throat and jaw. "Love you so fuckin' much. Always did, I think."

He clenched his jaw and flexed his hips, pulling a sweet moan from your lips as you tipped your head back and closed your eyes. He was so slow with it, making sure you felt every inch when he dragged his cock in and out, your arousal painting his inner thighs every time his hips made contact with your skin. You might have felt embarrassed if you both weren't so preoccupied with trading love bites and occasionally whispering you feel so good, I missed you, I love you, I love you, I love you, chests pressed together, desperate to get as close as possible.

You unhooked your ankles from his lower back and slid your legs up his sides so your knees were resting near his ribs. With his tongue still tangled with yours, he blindly reached down to grab one of your thighs and gently pressed forward, pushing your knee towards your chest. Your eyes flew open and you gasped at the intense angle, but still he kept up the same pace. Every thrust was slow and deep, every groan was low and soft, and every whisper sounded like a prayer.

"Just wanna feel you," he murmured against your neck, his beard scraping your skin, making it feel warmer than it already was. "Wanna fuck you like this always. Shit, baby," he moaned when he felt you clench around him. "Shit, that feels good. Such a soft pussy..." he trailed off and latched onto your lips for a fast and messy kiss. "Oh, fuck... best fuckin' pussy I've ever had."

And oh, did you love hearing that. You smiled and threaded your fingers through his hair, nails scraping gently over his scalp with a deep sigh.

"Yeah? You love her, too?"

He grinned. "Y'know I do."

He hitched your other leg over his arm, practically bending you in half while grinding into you, watching as your breath quickened and your tongue shot out to wet your lips. "Joel," you whined, the pressure mounting low in your belly, "I'm close, I'm... fuck, I'm gonna come. Please," you begged, not really sure what you were begging for in the first place. Maybe for him to keep going. Maybe for him to kiss you again. Maybe for him to fill the hole in your heart that's been destroying you for months.

When you came, you squeezed around his cock, his name getting caught in your throat when his mouth crashed over yours.

"So pretty," he mumbled, voice a little strained as he tried to keep it together long enough for you to come down. "Love watchin' you come. Who makes you feel good, baby?"

"You do," you whimpered, weak fingers grabbing at his shoulders.

"'S'right," he said, his breath growing ragged. He could feel his stomach tensing and he knew he only had a few more moments. "Only me. Tell me you're mine," he pleaded, his sweaty forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"I'm yours, Joel," you told him, voice a little clearer but still shaky. "And you're mine," you added softly, corner of your mouth lifting when you heard him groan.

He pulled out and grabbed his cock, giving it only a few quick strokes before he painted your stomach with his release, the both of you watching in a daze until he stopped with a shudder and collapsed onto the bed next to you, chest heaving with an arm draped tiredly over his eyes.

"I'll get somethin'," he told you, gesturing vaguely towards your stomach with his eyes still hidden. "Just... gimme a second."

"Mhmm," you mumbled, catching your breath with your arms stretched above your head. "I need a shower, anyway," you told him, all the hair products and makeup from the past twelve hours beginning to feel like paint.

"Oh?" he questioned, sounding disappointed when he turned his face to you. "Okay, sure."

"Will you stay?" you asked, hating how pathetic you sounded. But he smiled warmly and pinched your chin before planting a soft kiss against your lips.

"'Course I'll stay," he whispered, kissing you slowly once more before releasing you.

Joel watched with a lazy smirk as you stood with a quiet ow under your breath, your body no doubt already sore.

"Gonna have to get that pretty pussy used to me again," he teased, laughing and dodging the pillow you grabbed from the other bed that you chucked in his direction before entering the bathroom and shutting the door.

He laid in your bed, staring at the ceiling as he listened to the water turn on and the shower door close. He kept waiting to wake up, kept thinking the past hour was some crazy dream or fantasy, but it was real.

You loved him.

For years, he tried to find someone like you. Someone who would love him for him and not just use him. Sure, in the beginning he didn't mind being used. But the past few years he found to be painfully lonely. Especially once Tommy met Maria, that ache in his chest grew every time he saw them together, or every time he heard Tommy on the phone or talk about her with such fondness in his eyes. Selfishly, he always wondered why not me?

Now he had his answer. He was just waiting for you.

He heard you humming in the shower, your voice echoing off the glass walls and he smiled. He imagined you in there cleaning yourself up, your perfect body all soapy and wet and he felt his cock twitch.

"Shit," he muttered, lifting the thin sheet to see himself begin to swell once again. Would it always be like this? Would he always have an insatiable appetite for you?

A minute later and he was almost fully hard once more. He palmed it over the sheet and he looked longingly at the closed bathroom door. What was taking so long?

Then a smirk spread across his face and he jumped up from the bed, cock bobbing at attention between his legs as he walked to the bathroom and quietly opened the door.

The mirror was fogged up and so were the glass shower walls. He could hardly see you through all the steam, but he heard you. He heard the water cascading off your body and your fingers running through your wet hair.

Carefully, he opened the door and was pleased to find your back was to him as you rinsed out the last of your conditioner. When he wrapped his arms around your waist, you jumped and screamed a little before collapsing into a fit of laughter and turning around in his arms. Fuck, you looked so beautiful. All the makeup was down the drain but you looked more radiant than ever.

He leaned forward for a wet kiss, his hands sliding down to cup and squeeze your ass before pulling on your hips, tugging you closer so you could feel how hard he was for you.

"Need you," he murmured, but he meant more than just the obvious. He didn't want to be without you now that he had you, not even for a second.

"Already?" you breathed, but he just nodded, his lips dragging down your neck, your skin smelling like roses and vanilla.

"Too much?" he asked, mouth trailing slowly over your shoulder. Your nipples were pressed against his chest and his cock nearly hurt from how hard he was.

"No," you whispered, letting your eyes slide shut as you curled your arms around his neck. "Never too much."

Without hesitation, he crouched and grabbed the backs of your thighs, hauling you off the ground so he could press your back against the glass. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gasped when the tip of his cock nudged at your opening, the width surprising you, even still.

You let out a loud moan when he pressed forward, sinking himself back into your sore, aching heat, right where he belonged. One of his hands supported your ass and the other was flat against the glass next to your head, his fingers leaving wet smudges as he rocked his hips into you, swallowing down every whine and moan that tumbled from your mouth. That perfect fucking mouth he dreamed about for the past year. And now it was all his.

"God, Joel, yes... right there," you cried out, cunt already pulsing and gripping him so tight that he had half a mind not to pull out that time.

"Yeah?" he groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he nipped at your chin, watching as your head rolled listlessly against the foggy glass while he drove into you over and over. "There?"

"Yeah," you practically whined, hand shooting up to grab his hair, fingers slipping through his wet curls. "No one's ever... I can't... you're so-" you rambled half formed thoughts as your heart hammered in your chest, your orgasm steadily climbing, unable to tell him what you wanted to tell him.

"No one's what, baby?" he growled, thrusting himself impossibly deeper inside your cunt. "No one's ever fucked you this good? Huh?"

"No," you whimpered, biting down on your lower lip.

"What else? No one's ever made you come this much? Tell me, I wanna hear it," he groaned in your ear, his hot breath melting with the steam from the shower.

You shook your head then nodded, as if you didn't know how to answer. And you couldn't. Not when he was fucking you like it would be the last time.

"No one's ever - oh, fuck," you gasped, swallowing a mouthful of air, "no one's ever m-made me feel so good. I've never w-wanted anyone the way I want you." You squeezed your eyes shut but he quickly bit your jaw, forcing them back open.

"Keep your eyes on me."

You nodded, jaw half open as you did as you were told. His brows were furrowed deep, eyes wild and skin flushed as he pounded into you, forcing you over the edge for the third time in less than two hours.

"I got you," he murmured when your body sagged from the effort. He wrapped both arms around you now and fucked up into you recklessly, chasing his own high as quickly as possible so he could take you back to bed and rest.

Even though the voice inside his head was screaming at him to come inside you, he miraculously pulled out, spilling himself all over the shower wall between your legs.

"You okay?" he asked breathlessly, setting you down but still holding onto your shoulders. You nodded and slumped against his chest, legs visibly shaking. He chuckled and reached for the shower knob, turning the water off before walking you towards the door. Swinging it open, he reached out blindly for a towel. Finding one, he wrapped it around your shoulders, swaddling you and keeping you warm while he reached for another.

He messily knotted it around his waist and led you to bed. You didn't even bother to put any pajamas on or remove the towel, you just buried yourself under the covers with a contented sigh.

Joel was about to turn back to the bathroom and clean up a bit before you spoke.

"Come to bed."

His heart clenched in his chest and he smiled as he rounded the bed and slid under the sheets to join you, unable to resist.

Quickly, you scooted over to him, tossing a leg over his stomach and an arm over his chest and buried your face against his neck. He held you close, breathing in deep before you whispered, "I love you, Joel."

"I love you, too," he spoke into your hair, his chest ready to burst with happiness as you both fell into a deep sleep.

When you awoke the next morning, you smiled before you even opened your eyes. Joel's natural scent combined with the floral shampoo you used that the hotel had left out filled your nostrils. You breathed in deep and buried your face further into his warm, bare chest. He stretched underneath you, muscles pulling under his tanned skin, his fingers digging into your shoulders as he flexed.

"Morning," you whispered groggily, eyes still closed. You felt his arms wrap around you as he rolled onto his side, tugging you against him.

"Mornin'."

It can always be like this now, you thought. Waking up next to each other whenever you wanted. No sneaking around, no more hiding how you felt. It was perfect.

Until Joel's phone rang shrilly on his nightstand. He groaned and, keeping one arm securely around you, reached behind him to grab it.

"Hello?" he answered, voice thick and rough with sleep. Your body responded instantly, your core softening at his voice like it was a command, but what came with it was also a tight hint of soreness from the night before.

You could hear Tommy's voice through the phone, but you couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Nah, I'm hungover as shit, gonna order somethin'," Joel said.

You thought he had been joking the night before about getting your body used to him again, but you began to realize he was probably being serious the more you squirmed around and felt the stiffness in your muscles and hips.

"Yeah, alright. If I don't see ya later, I'll catch ya at the bar tomorrow."

He tapped his screen and tossed his phone haphazardly behind him with a smirk. "C'mere," he murmured, pressing his swollen lips against yours, his hand drifting to cup your face.

Christ, you were sore but you still wanted him so badly.

You flicked your tongue against the seam of his lips, deepening the kiss the second he dropped his jaw. Right when you were about to curl your leg around his hip and roll over to straddle him, your own phone began to vibrate loudly against your nightstand.

You both froze, lips still seared together, then slowly opened your eyes.

"Hold on," you grumbled, rolling over so your back was to Joel, then picked up your phone.

"It's Maria."

"Answer it," he said, inching closer. He pulled you back against his chest, cock hard and pressing between your bodies as you begrudgingly answered the phone.

"Hey! Have a fun night?" you asked cheerily. Your eyes snapped up to see movement in the full length mirror across from the bed. It was narrow, but you could see from your stomach down. Joel was pushing the sheets off himself and you watched as his hand drifted in front of you, tugging the sheet away from your chest, exposing yourself to the cool air. When he palmed one of your breasts from behind, you had to bite back a moan so Maria wouldn't hear.

"So much fun! I hardly got any sleep," she was saying, but you could barely hear her when his fingers slid down to pinch your nipple. You turned your face upwards to gasp softly, hoping it didn't get picked up by the receiver.

"Yeah?" you asked, hoping that would be enough to encourage her, and it was.

Maria kept babbling about things that happened the night before, things you missed after you and Joel snuck away. She was telling you something about a groomsman who attempted to do a split in the middle of the dance floor and ended up ripping his pants when you saw Joel lift your leg in the mirror, hooking it around his inner elbow and spreading your hips wide. Embarrassment flushed your face when you saw your pussy in the mirror, already glistening with arousal.

Then his cock slipped between your legs, nudging at your folds, his smooth tip coating itself in your slick before he pushed forward, parting your swollen cunt. The pain was brief, yet intense, but you were entirely distracted with the way it looked in the mirror. How fucking big he was and how you opened up and stretched so beautifully for him.

"Did the phone cut out?"

"Huh?" you squeaked, eyes transfixed on your reflection, hips rocking steadily in rhythm with his. You felt him chuckle behind you, his arm pulling your leg up even more so you could see everything.

"I asked if you wanted to join us for breakfast? The rest of the bridal party is meeting at the restaurant downstairs in twenty minutes."

Fuck, he felt so good. Combined with the visual, it was almost too much.

"Uh, I'm gonna pass. I already ate, I'm pretty full," you told her, eyes briefly fluttering shut when he began to move faster, his skin lightly slapping against your ass. You thought you heard him mumble yeah, you are, and you had to bite down hard on your lower lip.

"Well, okay. If you change your mind, we'll be down there at ten."

"Okay, thanks! I better go, my mom's beeping in. I'll call you later," you said hurriedly, hoping you weren't being too rude but if you stayed on the phone with her for one more minute, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide what you were really doing.

Mercifully, she hung up and you tossed your phone onto the floor, uncaring where it ended up, and reached behind you to curl your fingers around the back of Joel's head. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was messy and heated, and the way you had to twist your neck was awkward, but it didn't matter.

"Fuck yeah, baby. Look how good you take me," he groaned in your ear when he spotted you glancing towards the mirror again. "So pretty, ain't it?"

"Mhmm," you whined, still entranced by the way his thick cock split you open and you knew for sure in that moment no one else would ever come close to Joel. You were stupid to try to fight it.

Your hand dropped to clutch your pillow, your stomach drawing tighter the faster he snapped his hips, every devastating thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm gonna come," you whimpered, and he readjusted his grip on your leg, prying you open as wide as you would go.

You felt his teeth graze your shoulder, his breath hot and quick as his exhale puffed against your skin.

"That's right. Come all over my cock, baby. Give it t'me," he growled, hips slamming into you from behind so forcefully it almost pushed you off the bed, each thrust driving him deeper and deeper inside you.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you cried out when you came, your walls pulsing around his length, your body trying to suck him in and keep him there and fuck if he didn't want that, too.

At the last second he pulled out, watching in a daze as he dropped your leg, his cock now sandwiched between your thighs. With a deep groan, he watched in the mirror as he shot thick, white ropes of his seed all over your legs and the hotel sheets.

"I love you," he gasped, his sweaty forehead pressed against your upper back as he dragged in mouthfuls of air, waiting for his pulse to settle. "'M sorry, can't stop sayin' it."

You reached behind you and found his hand. Lacing your fingers together, you wrapped his arm around your middle, mumbling I love you, too, never tiring of it.

You waited a respectable amount of time for the bridal party to eat and leave the restaurant before venturing downstairs together, hand in hand. You contemplated just ordering room service but you weren't entirely certain you could keep your hands off each other long enough to eat, so forcing yourselves to leave the room felt like the best option.

The hostess led you to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, the room still buzzing with activity even though it was late in the morning. Your fingers linked together across the table as you sipped your coffees, exchanging little smirks whenever your eyes met.

"Can I ask you a question?" Joel asked, and you almost found yourself laughing at how serious he suddenly looked.

"Of course."

He glanced around the dining room quickly before leaning across the table. "You ain't on birth control anymore?"

You knocked the heel of your hand against your forehead. "I'm sorry, I should've told - no, I'm not. I took myself off the pill because I wasn't... y'know," you trailed off, embarrassment creeping up your neck.

Joel couldn't stop his smirk when he put it together so he pursed his lips and tilted his face toward the table, trying to hide it before saying, "so you're tellin' me you didn't have sex with anyone else since me?"

"Don't act so proud," you teased with a grin.

"I ain't," he said defensively, then thought about it for a moment before laughing. "Okay, maybe I am."

You giggled as you watched him take a sip of coffee, daydreaming about your future together and all the endless breakfasts you'll share. You imagined getting up early for work and showering, then coming into the kitchen to find Joel in just his pajama bottoms pouring you both coffees with unkept hair, asking if you saved him enough hot water because he still had to get ready for work.

Work. Suddenly, your smile fell when you remembered something. "Wait, you said you quit your job?" you asked, and he nodded, his thumb rubbing against the inside of your wrist. "So what do you do now?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "You ain't gonna believe it."

"Try me," you teased, knees bumping together under the table. You were close but still felt so far apart.

"I bought the bar," he said, sounding almost sheepish. Your eyes widened in surprise.

"Our bar? Tommy's bar?" you questioned, and he nodded. "H-how?"

He chuckled again and raked his fingers through his hair with his free hand. "What'dya mean how? With money."

"Yeah, I figured that," you said with a roll of your eyes, "but you just bought a house, too. How can you afford all that?"

He opened his mouth to reply when the server came to drop off your food. You finally unlinked your hands so you could pick up your silverware, and only once your waitress left did he respond to your question.

"Porn paid good," he said with a shrug. "I did it for a long time and I lived with my brother payin' next to nothin' in rent and utilities."

"Wow," you breathed in awe before shoveling some eggs in your mouth.

He watched you eat quietly for a few minutes before clearing his throat, drawing your attention from your breakfast.

"Why didn't you just ask me to quit? I woulda done it."

You paused your chewing and set your fork down on your plate.

"Because," you began, swallowing your food. "I couldn't ask you to do that for me. It wouldn't feel right and I was afraid if I did, you would grow to resent me."

His brows furrowed and he reached a hand across the table for you. "I woulda never resented you."

"You don't know that," you told him.

"I wasn't happy doin' it. Not like I used to be, anyway," he said. "Kept me from havin' certain things in my life. Could never make a relationship work and as I got older, it was somethin' I really wanted. I just didn't know how to get out. I mean, who can put somethin' like that on a resume?" he laughed softly. "Then Tommy mentioned his boss was lookin' to retire and I thought, hell... won't have to put shit on a resume if I'm my own boss."

You nodded and squeezed his hand, feeling guilty for never realizing he had his own internal struggles going on. Then you swallowed nervously before asking your next question, your curiosity unable to be ignored.

"Well, what about Sadie?" you asked, "she seemed really into you and she obviously wouldn't have had a problem with your career."

He gave you a small smile, eyes flashing with guilt when he thought back to his brief date with Sadie. The night he invited her over for board games and he ended up going down on you in the bathroom while she was left to talk to strangers in the living room.

"She was nice but there wasn't anythin' there. Not really. I was jealous of Sam and knew she liked me... I shouldn't've asked her over that night. It was wrong," he admitted, rubbing his chin. "She never stood a chance. She wasn't you, baby," he said softly.

You felt your chest clench from the tortured look in his eye, and for the millionth time you mentally berated yourself for spending so much time avoiding your feelings for him. Choosing not to deny yourself any longer, you stood up from your chair and closed the short distance between you. Cupping his face with both your hands, you leaned down and kissed him, trying your very best to put every ounce of love you had into it. It must have worked because you could feel his lips curving into a smile, then yours did the same.

It didn't matter how long it took, what mattered was what you had now.

Unfortunately, your bliss was short lived when you heard an all too familiar voice shriek excitedly behind you. You tore yourself away to swivel around in surprise, only to find Tommy and Maria standing a few tables away with their jaws hung open in shock, very clearly having witnessed your kiss.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, tugging on Tommy's arm to drag him over to your table. "I knew something was up when neither of you wanted to join us for food!"

Cheeks blazing hot with embarrassment, you were about to return to your chair but Joel's arm wrapped around you, pulling you to sit sideways in his lap. "No more hidin', yeah?" he murmured in your ear. You grinned and gave him one more quick peck.

"Yeah," you agreed right before they approached. "No more hiding."

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[darlingshane]

vicious circle

Michael Berzatto x Spanish/F!Reader

Summary: You're ready to put an end to your complicated relationship with Michael, but he's not ready to let you go.

CW: 18+, explicit, smut, angst, oral sex (f. receiving), workplace relationships, boss/employee relationship.

Word Count: 2.4k

— Links: AO3 // Michael Masterlist.

This is it.

You’re done with him.

You’ve said that way too many times, and each time you’ve gone back to Michael.

Today feels different.

You’ve reached your limit, and you’re not going to break or give in to his worn-out excuses. It’s time to put your foot down once and for all, or he’ll keep walking all over you.

It’s something you’ve been thinking of for a while, and you can’t keep putting it off. So, at the end of the night when he goes outside to have a smoke after closing, you take that further step and leave an envelope on his desk with your name on the back and a two weeks’ notice. You could have sent it in an email, but he hardly ever checks his account and having something physical makes it more official and imminent. You know he’s not going to miss it cause every day he sits at his desk to go over the pile of bills after closing. And it only takes him five minutes to give up and go find the closest place open to get drunk.

Michael is still in the alleyway when you return to the kitchen to finish cleaning your station along with Tina.

There’s a song playing on your phone that you propped on one of the shelves. Occasionally, you hum and mumble the lyrics that you know so well. It’s a powerful Spanish ballad from an album you grew up listening to that really rips your soul apart. It’s about his guy that’s stuck in this vicious circle with a girl that does nothing but lie to him. She’s constantly changing his mind, coming to be with him whenever she feels like it, disregarding his feelings. And he can’t do anything but take her back when she returns.

The lyrics roughly translate to – She combs and tangles my soul. She walks with me, but I don’t know where she’s going. My rival, my partner. She’s deep inside my life and at the same time she’s so out of it.

It’s the perfect song to describe your situationship with Michael. Your back and forth with Michael Berzatto is nothing but a constant headache, and you refuse to be like the guy in those lyrics and let him use you whenever he wants to.

The music changes to something more upbeat in your playlist when the song ends, and you can see Tina from the corner of your eye shyly swinging to the beat.

When Michael comes back into the kitchen, he picks up Tina’s hand and starts spinning her and dancing around with her animatedly with a big smile on his face, singing along, stirring a laugh out of her.

Every other day, he’s like a fucking black cloud sucking all the air out of the room with all his gloom and doom. But tonight, he’s in a really good mood, and you love it, cause you’re about to change that. He’s caused you so much pain that it’s only fair to take your stab at poking the bear for once.

“C’mon, that’s enough, Mikey. I gotta finish here and pick up the kid.”

He gives Tina one final spin to end the dance, and tells her to go home, that he’ll finish in the kitchen.

It wouldn’t be the first time he's done that.

The thing with Michael is that he never follows through with anything he says. He's just empty words and promises. When he says he’s going to do something for you, like cleaning your station, you’ll always return the next day to find it how you left it cause he really doesn’t give a fuck.

While she slips off his kiss-printed trademarked apron and goes to the lockers to pick up her stuff, Michael tells you that you can leave too. But you stubbornly shake your head without looking at him.

“Okay, have at it,” he scoffs and retires to the office.

You're scrubbing the surface of the stove imagining wiping that grin off his face when he opens the envelope.

“Don’t work yourself too hard, chula.” Tina says from the entrance to the kitchen.

“I won't. Buenas noches.” (Goodnight.)

“Buen-” she starts saying back but is quickly interrupted by Michael who comes out again, wearing the scowl you proudly put on his face.

“Can I see you in my office?”

“Todavía no he terminado.” (I haven't finished yet.)

“I don’t give a shit about that. Office. Now.” He orders storming back into his little cluttered room.

You glance to the side to see Tina still standing there, throwing a most puzzled look at you.

“¿Pero qué le has hecho?” (What have you done to him?)

“¿Yo? Nada.” You shrug casually. (Me? Nothing.)

“Estaba el pobre de tan buen humor. De verdad que te gusta arruinarle el día al jefe.” She says with a humorous tone. (Poor guy was in such a good mood. You really enjoy ruining the boss’ day.)

“Puto cabrón likes ruining mine,” you scoff, cleaning your hands in the sink before taking off your apron and turning off the music on your phone.

“You two are more alike than you think. Don’t be too hard on him.”

“I’ll try.”

Tina finally bids you good night before leaving out the back door.

Taking in a fortifying breath, you pause for a second before crossing the doomed threshold into his office.

He's sitting on his chair, staring blankly at your notice letter.

“You're not quitting,” he says, swiveling in his seat as if you had no other choice.

You clutch your fist to keep yourself from giving up to his objection. Printing your nails on the heel of your hand reminds you to remain strong and firm in your decision.

“You're not my boss. Well, you are for a few more days, but you have no right to force me to stay.”

“You're a fucking piece of work. Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“Takes one to know one. I'm just so fed up with all this shit, with you, with this fucking place…”

“What? You found a better job than this?”

“No. But I will. Why? Don't you think I can't, motherfucker?”

“Didn't say you couldn’t. I'm sure with your experience you have many better options than this, sweetheart.”

“Then, what's the problem?”

“I can't just let you go.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you practically run this place. If you leave…”

“You'd have to hire someone else to fill my position, and would have to pay them more than you can't pay me.” You finish the sentence when he trails off. “You're so full of shit, Michael. You and I both know that the only reason you won't let me go is cause you can’t handle seeing me moving on. You could just say that instead of being a coward.”

“I’m the coward? That’s rich. How many times have you said you were leaving and backtracked?”

“This time is different. You've left me no choice. I'm busting my ass here and for what? For nothing. I pick up all the slack, I do everything you refuse to do and wait, you still never thank me for it, you never even considered giving me a raise.”

“Is this about money? You know I'd pay you more if I could.”

“I don't care anymore. I'm done bailing you out and trying to save something that doesn't wanna be saved.”

“Are we talking about me or the shop now?”

“Both. I can't be working here, and have you coming and going out of my life whenever you want to. I’m sick of your games. You can't say you won't let me go and then sit all day in the middle of the kitchen, so I can hear you yapping with Richie about this girl and this other girl you screwed. You're fucking toxic, and unprofessional. I doubt anyone will ever put up with your shit for as long as I have.”

Out of frustration, you dig your nails so hard into your skin it almost stings, but it helps you keep you from breaking in the middle of that sentence.

“I didn't fuck anyone. I was just messing with you.”

“Mira,” you sigh, defeated, “you're exhausting and incredibly immature for a forty-year-old. Get your shit together. I don't care what you do, or where you stick your dick in. I'm done. Let me be done, Michael.”

“I can't.” He finally stands up to level up with you, but leans on the desk instead. “Let's work on a solution. Tell me what do I have to do for you to stay?”

“Give me a raise. Stop being an asshole. And grow up.” You enumerate sharply.

You do have a few more in your list, but those are the main three.

“I can do two out of three.”

You can't stop the urge of rolling your eyes cause you know he's pathological.

“No deal.”

“Please, don't do this. I'm begging you here. Do I need to get down on my knees?”

That'd be a first.

“Look, I promise to stay away from you, or talk shit with Richie when you're around. You won't hear anything like that again. Just… please, this will fall apart without you, mi vida. If you really need a raise I'll think of something. But give me some time. I…”

The desperation in his voice cracks your armor, and you can't help but feel sorry for him. It's that familiar feeling that doesn't let you escape his hold on you, even when you’re well versed in his bullshit and know that always promises big, but never delivers.

It's weak and fucking pathetic to see how you fall for it every time he calls you mi vida. (my life)

Your fist unclenches, letting your defenses abandon you because you're just as bound to this place and his lies as much as he is.

His posture straightens, shortening the distance between you and him. One of his hands reaches to frame your chin, and you inevitably let him hold your face, leaning on his touch, as he inches closer to capture your lips.

“Lo siento, mi vida,” he mumbles while his mouth gently bounces against yours a couple of times. “I promise I'll do better.”

“Stop promising. Just show me, Michael.”

With his hand still holding your face, he glances at your eyes before focusing on your lips again, watching up close his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“Fuck, you look so hot when you're angry,” he deflects cause he can't cope with the fact that you're right— he’s fucked up.

“Fuck you,” your grit stirs a chuckle out of him as he pushes your back against the wall.

A second later, he’s seizing your mouth once more, tearing apart your invisible armor away as his tongue slides to break the last defense you’ve put up. You let him, cause at the end of the day you still love him. No matter how many times he’s wronged you, you can’t bear the thought of leaving him stranded.

The desperation burning at the tip of his tongue is intoxicating. The only thing you can do is give in and kiss him back with nothing but anger. Which he happily accepts. He has you where he wants to– pinned against the wall, his hands devouring your body, and letting you drown in the depths of his mouth while he steals every last breath until your lips hurt.

When he’s done with your mouth, he moves to your neck. His bearded face scratches your skin as he mouths his way all over the surface; carelessly nibbling and sucking your flesh raw between his teeth, leaving his mark.

“Dime, corazón… what do I have to do for you to believe that I’m for real this time?” His breath catches in your ear. (Say, sweetheart…)

You almost break into laughter. It seems like a joke. You won’t believe anything until you see it, but you play along.

“Eat my pussy.”

“You’ll believe me if I do that?”

“No, but it’d be a start. Hey, you say you wanted to get on your knees to beg… So beg me.”

Pegging you with a look, he doesn’t hesitate to follow your request.

You watch him gravitate toward the floor on one knee without taking his eyes off you. His fingers swiftly open your jeans, tugging them down to your ankles. He licks his lips, letting his fingers scratch the surface of your thighs before pulling down your panties too. Then he buries his face between your legs and works his tongue to tell the same lies to your clit. He laps around it like he does with your relationship, touching the edges without diving further into the core. He’s always known exactly how to give you enough to satisfy your cravings but always leaves you asking for more. You want his soul and body to be yours, only yours. Right now, the only thing you own it’s his mouth and fingers that work together in harmony with the tickling of his beard to coax your orgasm to the surface.

He’s two-knuckle deep, fingertips pressing directly on your g-spot, when his lips finally wrap around that swollen bud. You have to grip on his hair to keep your knees from buckling down as he drives you to the finish line.

Pulling hard on his locks makes him grunt sinfully against your folds. You tug again and again, earning yourself a string of groans and curse words printed directly on your cunt. A mild wave of bliss flows nicely all over your body as he slips his dripping fingers out of you. He brings them to his mouth and licks him clean as you regain your breathing.

“You taste as good as I remember.”

“Don’t forget about it when you’re eating out some other puta.” You grumble pulling your panties and jeans up.

“Hm,” he stands and lifts your chin with those same fingers that were inside you. “You know I’d never do that to you.”

“No, no lo sé.” You lightly shake your head. (No, I don’t know.)

“I’m telling you.”

“A lot of shit comes from your stupid mouth.”

“A lot of good things go in too… Like you,” he deliberately licks his lips, collecting the shining remains of you.

“Just remember, next time you won’t get a chance like this. I’ll simply leave. And no more pussy for you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

[grogusmum]

Please Mister Please

JOEL MILLER X F!READER (nicknamed)

SUMMARY: You can't seem to escape that one song even after the apocalypse. Joel and Ellies friendship brings you some comfort, and maybe Joel is interested in more.

WORD COUNT: 1700ish

WARNINGS: None to speak of. Unless you need one for soft Joel. As always, if you see something I've missed, let me know in my DMs, and I'll add it.

A/N: Just a little something inspired by the Olivia Newton-John's song of the same name. (She was in her country music era) It's hardly edited, written on my phone, and Imma just yeetin' it out there. Oops. It's just the usual fluffy hurt comfort. But it IS my first go round with Joel. I hope you enjoy it! 💚

The jukebox was found on a supply run at some honky tonk out Fort Collins way called Sundance something or other. You laughed at your first thought, which was it's wasn't one of those new ones with CDs, realizing "those new ones" were now 40 years old... but this one was truly an antique, with vinyl in it and everything.

A Wurlitzer in all its chrome, brightly colored bakelite, and satisfying push button glory.

You shake your head now, thinking you should have known the moment you heard. Everyone was so excited. Because, of course, they were! How fun is an old timey jukebox full of country-western ballads, anthems, and line dance classics?

It brought an energy into Jackson, the likes you hadn't seen before it. You'd gotten in early on, and watched its evolution from place where people were merely surviving to an industrious hive of busy bees, creating abundance but there wasn't much room for joy and then out of the clear blue sky - line dancing. At first they couldnt keep it plugged in all the time, it was turned on for a half an hour at the end of the day, until they had a good handle on the dam and the power plant was working consistently. You're sure it was the inspiration for Maria's attention to holidays and socials after seeing the excitement and morale lift from it. Suddenly, y'all were living, not just staying alive. So it seems silly, with so much real life and death shit to deal with, to get so hung up on one song, but it carried so much weight for you, you just couldn't shake it. If only it wasn't so sweet, if only it wasn't so catchy… Maybe people wouldn't have noticed it among all the other tracks. But it was sweet and it was catchy, and about making it after all the shit they'd been through...

So naturally, at five songs for a quarter, it ends up in the mix at some point. (It's the only reason the town has any coins. Paying it could have been bypassed, but dropping the 25¢ seemed to be part of the fun.) So when you least expected it, it would start to play, and so far, it continued to flip your stomach and make your eyes glass. And think about how he and you didn't actually make it.

Joel and Ellie have been in Jackson several months now. Ellie dove right in, school, taking care of the horses afterward, trying to socialize. She's a little guarded sure but mostly funny and eager. Joel started helping Tommy right away, but it seemed to you more to keep busy than to join the community. He's wary and taciturn. When they weren't in those organized work times, they stuck close. When Ellie ventured into social activities, Joel let her go, but he was ever watchful, with Ellie checking in often even just a look over her shoulder, just to see if he was still there. He always was. They reminded you of a bonded pair of strays.

You liked your place, Catnip's Apothecary. They'd come in twice so far, once when Joel brought Ellie in for a poison ivy rash and once when Ellie brought a very grumpy Joel for inflammation in his knees Ellie found all your jars of tinctures, teas, herbs, and powders fascinating. Asking what everything did, looking at drying plants hanging from rafters in wonder, pspspsing the cats.

“Are you a witch?”

“Ellie!” Joel admonished, but looking at you for a tell. Were you? You could see him wondering.

You only laughed. Sure you were, but what they were seeing here was hardly witchcraft, just herbalism, mostly. Joel and Ellie are both bright and observant - you're pretty sure they both noticed you didn't answer.

Tonight, Ellie is at the rec center, a movie theater for the evening, awaiting the start of none other than Star Wars.

Where did they find all these 70s flicks? Nevertheless, A New Hope's a great find. You can't resist going, even though you know it by heart, and you'll have to force yourself not to recite all the dialogue. Sitting smack dab in the middle, surrounded by all these kids and young adults, seeing it for the first time, you munch your popcorn and smile.

You don't see Joel, but it's not like you are actively looking for him… just curious, given their penchant to stay together and you figured he will know the movie too, maybe he's more of a Trekkie. When you catch Ellie's eye, she waves animatedly and moves to sit beside you.

“Sssoooo, you're like one of the only grown ups here.” there is a gremlin glint in Ellie’s eye.

“Yeah, I thought there'd be more nostalgia watchers-” you say a little sheepishly. “ But it's okay, I'll see it with a soon-to-be New Generation of Star Wars Fans. Bear Witness!”

“And what if it sucks?”

The noise you make is somewhere between an indignant scoff and a gasp of purest offense. But you rally.

“Oh just you wait padawan-”

"What's a pada-"

As quickly as the lights go down the attention commanding drums of the 20th Century Fox fanfare begin.

“Oop here we go! Buckle up, buttercup!!”

You live vicariously through the new audience for the next two hours, and it is a pure joy.

The young people of Jackson laugh at the Laurel and Hardy comedy stylings of Threepio and Artoo, they eat up the “though she be little she is fierce” snarky spirit of Princess Leia, gasp at Alderaan's fate and Obi Wan's sacrifice, cheer at Hans return, hold their collective breath when Luke turns off his targeting device to use the force, and burst into applause when he makes the one in a million shot, womp rats in Beggars Canyon take heed.

“Aw man I really hope we can see Empire some day,” you say as the credits roll.

Ellie is elated, peppering you with questions about the sequel and then Return of the Jedi as you walk out of the rec center, and everyone begins to head home. You do you best answering, not wanting to spoil too much if she actually gets to watch it.

“I'm this way,” she says suddenly, as she peels off from the town center, “see ya!”

You head toward the Tipsy Bison, to join the adults, most of which took advantage of the kids being off at the movie to do a little drinking and dancing.

The spring has brought high spirits, and with it bright chatter and the stomp of line dancing in progress. Grabbing a spot to watch, you order yourself a drink. When the song ends, there's hoots and applause, and the next one is slow and sweet, and it only takes the first note for you to feel the drop in your belly.

Joel saw you come in, he had seen you from the street actually, when the community center emptied after the film, he had his eye out for Ellie and saw her come out with you, talking animatedly and laughing. He smiled. You were his age, or close enough, he guesses, not only from both the smile and worry lines but your points of reference when talking, only missing references that are local to growing up in Texas. It's comforting, you remember Before. You also have a light he can't get enough of. You didn't confirm nor deny it, but he is sure you've enchanted him witch or not. He's just been too, 'shy' isn't the right word... he just hasn't been able to make any sort of move.

Then he does his best to saunter over to your little table, drink in hand. He's pretty sure his sauntering days are over.

Now you sit alone, a moment ago smiling, tapping to the music. He had been taking in some liquid courage, in the form of whiskey, to ask you to dance. But the light in your eyes is replaced with a shine, not in the way he loves. He's seen this a couple times, he realizes. Times when your eyes go far away and a sadness descends on you.

He gets up and checks the jukebox, taking note of the song. He's pretty sure he's right. He can't bypass a song on a jukebox, nor can he tell a DJ to change it. But he's gonna talk to Walt the barkeeper, first chance he gets.

“Hey Catnip, can I sit?”

You look up wiping your wide eyes.

“Oh, sure, Joel, please,” your smile tries to reach your eyes, but it flickers and can't stay.

“So," Joel starts, he's not good at this. He's gotten better but, “You're Still the One, huh? For me, it's Vince Gill- When I Call Your Name ”

You just look at him, and he starts to think maybe he hasn't improved at all.

“I don't know that one, it was kind of a fluke that our song, his song was a country song. It's not my usual genre.”

“Well it wasn't my lady and my song, it was the song that I listened to after she left. Sarah was so little. I felt so lost in those early days. Now I can't even hear the open-”

“Opening chords,” you finish with a chuckle, “yeah, I can't- and now of course it all wrapped up in the Before Times, too. But here it is, in a jukebox of less than 200 songs, the one song that represents my husband walking out on me before the shit hit the fan.”

“I can't even picture anyone leaving you with nothing but a song.”

“Yeah, well, I can picture it quite clearly. I can't imagine someone leaving you with a little baby girl to raise.”

“We are in the same boat, darlin’ until it happened I would have been with you on that. We were very young, 22, she panicked.”

“Aren't we a pair?”

“Why don't this pair go for a walk then?”

Joel holds his breath, looking into your lovely face.

“I'd like that.”

Standing, Joel holds out a hand to guide you up and out of the bar, it settles comfortably on your lower back, the song long over. His hand tingles and theres a flutter in his chest at being allowed to touch you this way.

It smells like petrichor, though the skies are clear. Joel's hand leaves your back to your chagrin, but he gently holds out his elbow, and with a crooked smile you slip your hand in the crux of it.

“Such a gentleman.”

He smiles and brings you to the newly constructed, yet to be painted, gazebo.

You climb the handful of steps and look at the town from this new vantage point.

Behind you, Joel comes close, his hand casually on your hip, like you did this everyday. His mouth close to the shell of your ear and a quiet hum floats in, the controlled breath tickling, you smile knowing the very apt song choice,

“Are you making fun of me Joel Miller?”

He chuckles, then the words over take the hum -

“Please mister, please, don't play B-17

It was our song, it was his song but it's over

Please Mr. please, if you know what I mean

I don't ever wanna hear that song again…”

Joel turns you, arm around your waist, his other hand sliding into yours -

" I'd sound a bit better with my guitar, but when we couldnt dance, so-"

He starts a simple box step, as he sings quiet and low, just for you, while turning you around the gazebo.

You join in singing, whispering in his ear the chorus when it comes again. It feels cathartic. Then you step back - who is this man? Not the guy who came in with a little girl, a gut wound that should have killed him, poorly healed knuckles, and the wary eye of someone who is always waiting for the other shoe to come down on him like it's made of lead. But looking at him now, those brown eyes wide but the little crease between his eyes holding his concern. His jaw soft, making you take more note of his natural pout and the salt and pepper scruff, the little spot that just won't fill in, it looks like a heart… you wonder if it's as soft and smooth as it looks and if he'd let you touch it to find out.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING 💚

Please consider commenting and reblogging. If you are interested in reading more of my writing, you can find my masterlist here. If you would like to be notified when i post more work, you can find my taglist form here.

[scuderiasundays]

a promise is a promise

summary: sliding into a stranger's dm's, nostalgia for your first date, and a promise sealed with a kiss + a little insta au at the end 💙

words: 1,071

a/n: my first time writing for mr. leclerc! thank you for the req, @headinthecloudssblog 🫶🏼 tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @formulaforza, @thatsdemko, and @diorleclerc because i trust you all deeply. feedback is much appreciated as always. hugs and kisses!

Charles loved Adele and he sure wasn't shy about it. While the other racing drivers were hyping themselves up with rock, EDM, or rap, the Monegasque’s AirPods (which he often lost) were blaring “Someone Like You.” You, yourself, wondered how the powerful yet melancholy ballad could put him in the right headspace to drive at breathtaking speeds of up to 362 km/h. 

You were nothing short of euphoric when it was announced that she would be extending her exclusive residency in Las Vegas. It would be a dream come true if you could see her live during the weekend of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. However, a bitter reality crept in when you discovered the final show was scheduled for November 4, a mere two weeks before the two of you would arrive stateside. Charles would be racing at Interlagos, while you would be stuck at a clinical genetics conference in St Andrews.

“I was going to get us tickets to thank you for your service in the Great War!” You huffed as you watched Charles tie the laces of his Puma running shoes, visibly let down by the news. All of your friends thought the racing driver had used his F1 connections to get you those coveted floor seats, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Your boyfriend had spent 18 hours in a virtual queue on one of his few days off, using multiple of his sim racing monitors to secure tickets to the Eras Tour. Arthur had mocked his older brother about how “whipped” he was, joking that he was relieved someone else’s screen time was as horrific as his own.

With a light kiss on your neck, Charles wrapped his arms around you from behind, his voice filled with affection. "It’s like this, ma chérie. I'm going for a run with Andrea," he whispered. As he headed towards the door, his shoulders slumped and his AirPods in, it became clear today's run would be more of a recovery run, a moment for him to recharge physically but more so emotionally.

Determined to bring Charles closer to his idol, you swiftly grabbed your phone from the kitchen island and opened Adele's Instagram profile. Sliding into someone's DMs had never been your style, let alone that of a Grammy-winning artist, but you figured there was nothing to lose.

"Hi, this is Y/N. I know it's unlikely that you'll ever see this, but I'm taking a leap of faith for my boyfriend Charles, who is undoubtedly your biggest fan. Our first date perfectly encapsulates his essence," you began typing, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. "He took me on the most gorgeous twilight yacht ride, accompanied by a meticulously curated playlist of his favorite songs. Upbeat songs like 'A Sky Full of Stars,' 'Pepas,' and 'Feel So Close' filled the air. But then, out of nowhere, a hauntingly beautiful piano melody began to play."

Pausing for a moment, a reminiscent smile graced your face as the memory came roaring back to life. "'Is this Adele?'" you had asked, a glass of rosé in your hand. Charles looked so at peace compared to the tense expression he sometimes wore during race weekends. He had offered you his blue Ferrari sweatshirt to ward off the evening chill and confirmed that it was indeed Adele. Charles shared that he, unlike most, found comfort in what he deemed “depressive music.”

Since that fateful evening, the British songstress' music had become an integral part of your relationship. It served as the soundtrack to your road trips, where you took turns belting ‘Rolling in the Deep.’ It sparked heated debates about whether Adele’s ‘Daydreamer’ or Sade’s ‘By Your Side’ should be your first dance song. It even led to late nights, downing espresso shots just so you could listen to her latest album the second it dropped.

You reached for your phone once again. "That night ended with Charles’ hand resting on my thigh as he drove me home to 'Make You Feel My Love.’ Your music has been the soundtrack to so many of our most intimate moments, and it would mean the world if you could find some time to perform for him," you typed, pouring your heart into the message. You added, "I know this is a long shot, but I..." before eagerly hitting the "Send" button. With a growing sense of accomplishment, you decided to run to the grocery store to pick up some fresh salmon for dinner.

Unable to keep a secret to save your life, you shared what you’d been up to with Charles. "You DM'd the queen? Je t'aime, ma belle, but I highly doubt she'll reply," he playfully teased, rolling his eyes as he wiped the dish you had just handed him.

"What if she does?" you retorted, a hint of hope in your voice. "You know how I treasure you so much I don’t even trust myself to take you on a hot lap? We’ll do it in Las Vegas if and only if Adele responds." His devilish Leclerc wink accompanied the mischievous remark, leaving you to wonder how this crazy turn of events would unfold.

Weeks passed, and with each passing day, the likelihood of a reply dwindled. Charles was away in Qatar when the doorbell unexpectedly rang. A courier stood before you, holding a grand bouquet of white roses along with a message card. Assuming it was from him, your hands trembled as you read the sign-off on the ivory white card. There it was, unmistakably etched in the most elegant script. Five letters. Adele.

You snatched the card eagerly and read it over countless times, overcome with disbelief. It turned out that Adele's devoted fan base had made her very much aware of Charles' fanboying. She expressed her delight and confirmed that she would be more than happy to sing a few songs for you over dinner so long as she could score some “cool mom points” and bring her son Angelo to the race.

Your hands trembled with sheer excitement as you shared the spectacular news with Charles. He blamed his nonexistent allergies as tears welled up in his eyes, but you saw right through his lies.

"So, you'll be taking me on that hot lap, Leclerc?" you grinned, blissed out seeing him so happy. "Bah oui, une promesse est une promesse," he replied, sealing his vow with a well-earned kiss.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, and 61,616 others

yourusername: weekends with adele (and charles) 🎰🍸❤️

fan1: “it’s true that, after a bad day, if you listen to that, you cry. you don’t feel any better. but i like it. i like the mood of depressive music.” - chuck leclerc

charles_leclerc: i have the best girlfriend in the world! tu est simplement la meilleure ❤️

adele: she’s one of a kind! thank you for letting me bear witness to your love x

yourusername: you, sir, are the love of my life. thanks for tolerating my impulsivity!

fan2: i need a charles and adele collab and i need it NOW 😤

joris_trouche: he’ll never shut up about this

charles_leclerc: prepare to be sick of me! wait, you and @andferrari007 already are 🫣

scuderiaferrari: c² music challenge but adele songs only?

carlossainz55: why play when i don’t even stand a chance 🤨

[thesinglesjukebox]

CHAPPELL ROAN - "HOT TO GO!"

2-4-6-8, who do we appreciate? You all! This wraps up this month's coverage -- see ya in November!

[7.00]

Alfred Soto: Chappell Roan's The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess is a sparkling collection of moods and passing desires, best when euphoric. The ballads might have been even stronger had she spelled out their choruses. [7]

Dave Moore: Spelling is fun! [3]

Grace Robins-Somerville: It's been too long since we've had a "spell the words out with your arms" song in the zeitgeist, and seeing people do the H-O-T-T-O-G-O dance at weddings has cemented its staying power. It's nice that lesbians have their "YMCA" now.  [8]

Katherine St. Asaph: "Hot to Go!" is a crowd chant-along that shouldn't work at all as one. The template is "YMCA," but the difference and the problem is that "YMCA" is instantly parseable when spelled out, while "H-O-T-T / O-G-O" takes a moment's reassembly. The other highlight line in "baby, don't you like this beat? I made it so you'd sleep with me" is endearingly blunt -- more musicians should be that honest -- but nevertheless cannot honestly be chanted by anyone but Dan Nigro or Chappell Roan. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that "Hot to Go!" is hugely effective at getting crowds to chant along. [7]

Aaron Bergstrom: Retroactively furious about the idea that one or more of the Village People potentially did or did not endorse Jimmy Carter in the 1980 Presidential election. [7]

Scott Mildenhall: Who or what is a hottogo? The chant falls short of total clarity by going two steps further than succinct, but therein lies the charm. Bursting at the seams of some slightly thin fabric, Chappell Roan carries this so far and fast that she might struggle to find her way back. [7]

Leah Isobel: There are about five perfect hooks on Chappell's debut album. "Baby don't you like this beat?/ I made it so you'd sleep with me" is one of them, precise and funny and melodically flawless. I think that was the moment that sold me on her whole project: the bluntness balanced by craft, the expertise made human by the raw and embarrassing vulnerability of wanting sex, wanting recognition, wanting anything at all. Also, have y'all heard the fanmade Rhythm Heaven edit for this? Banger! [8]

TA Inskeep: Every generation gets a new cheerleading-cheer anthem -- think Toni Basil's "Mickey" or Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" -- and here's the latest, with a bit of "Y.M.C.A." thrown in for good measure. It's hard to ignore Roan's joy on this chorus; this is also a rare pop single where its meme-ability actually draws me in (cf. "Call Me Maybe"). How can you not smile when you hear this? [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Of all the guises that Chappell Roan inhabited on her debut album, this always felt like the truest — she sounds like Devo if they slayed, still gawking and midwestern and not quite fitting a perfect archetype of pop stardom but still, nevertheless, a star. The weepy ballads (some of them great) fade away in the face of this, the goofy chant-a-longs and dance instructions wearing one's resistance down on the strength of pure charisma and craft. There are hooks upon hooks here — I think I've had just the synth chord on the prechorus stuck in my head before. [9]

Ian Mathers: I took the number of times I've caught myself humming this song since I first heard the record last year and divided it by a very large number and got this score. I am not currently interested in Discourse beyond that. [10]

Nortey Dowuona: You're trying to take out Chappell Roan the way you took out Amy Winehouse and I don't like it. Not one bit.  Also, the '80s actually kinda sucked -- let's not go back. (This song is great btw.) [8]

Jel Bugle: I know everyone loves Chappell, and I’ve not really bothered to get too excited. I like the Casio keyboard sounds, and spelling out words in songs is always a good trick (see "D I S C O," and I’m sure Olivia has a spelling words out song?). I can see why Sabrina is winning the chart battle here in the UK. I just feel like this song is okay, warm rather than hot -- a sort of personality over the strength of the song. Plus, I’m getting tired of this song constantly being pushed to me by Spotify -- if it happens again the [6] becomes a [5].  [6]

Taylor Alatorre: For all the talk of Chappell Roan hailing the return of “recession pop,” this strikes my ears as more of a grasping imitation of the real than most of what PC Music was accused of putting out. Maybe that’s unavoidable given the generation gap, as well as the decline of the universal pop star – Chappell covers “Bad Romance” on tour, but she doesn’t exude the belief that she can be a legitimate successor to Lady Gaga. She’s ambivalent about the compromises required for mass appeal, even on songs like this one which are structured, at least internally, toward that end. It’s all the external festooning and DIY-style pageantry which redirect the song’s course toward a cozier ideal of attainable imperfection, a glitzy and glammy take on self-sabotage. Which, in the end, is its own kind of earnestness. “HOT TO GO!” is confident enough in its own gangliness to bill itself as a coming-out party where everyone, even the normies, is invited, despite the singer’s doubts about the long-term viability of this promise. [6]

Tim de Reuse: The appeal of "Pink Pony Club" was immediately evident to me on first listen. But this one's a silly Chappell Roan song: The narrative here is buried under catchy turns of phrase and the hokey pokey-ass pre-chorus, leaving us to wring pathos out of a few scant lines in the verses. So, what's the draw? The simple build-and-release drama of a I-IV-I progression? The energy of a jittery, unkempt synthesizer-driven beat? Is the chant of "H-O-T-T-O-G-O" sugary enough to overcome my pop-pessimist cynicism and light up my long-calcified dopamine receptors for once? Eh, kinda. It's well-constructed, but it just isn't aiming all that high. [6]

Will Adams: Silly fun pop that doesn't require much thought -- just do the little dance and enjoy yourself! [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[cowgurrrl]

Dancing Barefoot

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: this was slightly self-indulgent because Patti Smith is my personal god also baby Miller should be arriving in the next fic but this idea was stuck in my head and I HAD to write it

Summary: “I’ll never finish falling in love with you.” - Nicole Williams, Collared aka Joel helps you and the baby sleep ~800 words

Warnings: a little bittersweet, talks of Janey girl and Sarah bear, brief brief brief mention of a strained parent/child relationship, pregnancy, tooth rotting fluff

The moonlight streams from the windows, and the birds chirp sleepily outside. Ellie is safe in her bed, and Joel is lying on his right side beside you, occasionally mumbling something you never quite catch. You should be asleep. The baby should be asleep; instead, they're using you as their punching bag. You've been tossing and turning for thirty minutes, making the baby toss and turn just as much. You sigh and rub your face like it will be enough to soothe you and the baby to sleep.

"Can't sleep?" Joel mumbles, and you look at his back. You didn't even know he was awake, but you nod at the ceiling. 

"Your kid is doing laps." 

"Why is it my kid when he's misbehaving?" He asks as he turns to face you. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are heavy with sleep, but his hand still manages to find your bump in the dark. "Let your mama sleep." He says, poking at your stomach. 

"I don't think poking our baby in the face is going to get them to sleep," you say, and he hums, half-asleep. You run your fingers through his curls and smile when he cuddles closer to you. "I think they want a song." 

"The baby wants a song, or you want a song?"

"Both." You say. You catch the pull of his lips in the moonlight before he kisses your temple. He sighs as he gets out of bed and grabs his guitar from the corner. He perches on the edge of your bed shirtless, his silver scars on display without shame, and you remember each story associated with them— ghosts of the people you were before baby bumps and shared last names.  

"What d'you want to hear?" He asks, strumming a few times to check the tuning.

"Do you know any Patti Smith?" You ask, and he turns to give you a look. "What? I had a life before you." He chuckles, and you lean against your headboard, hands resting on your swollen belly. He looks at the frets like they're an equation for a few slow moments before the familiar ballad fills the space. You smile as he quietly sings the words, mouthing them as he goes. 

Little Miller seems to realize their dad is singing because you feel them move in time with the strums. If this kid loves music already, we're going to need more records, you think. You imagine little hands reaching for the guitar as Ellie or Joel play, adding their own dissonant sound to the song previously being played. Maybe you could hire someone in town to make tiny instruments for them to play with once they're big enough. The idea of a little jam circle with Ellie, Joel, and the baby makes your heart sing. As the song ends, Joel looks at you expectantly, his dark brown eyes meeting yours. The tiny heartbeat under your ribs has settled, only occasionally kicking to let you know they're still alive.

"Like clockwork," you say, and he smiles, gently placing the guitar back in its corner. "As judgy as you were with my request, you pulled that out pretty fast."

"I had a life before you," he echoes, and you roll your eyes as he slides back into bed with you. "Sarah didn't like most of the music I played in the truck, but she liked Patti."

"Smart girl." 

"What music did Jane like?" He asks, and the way he says her name makes you want to cry. He says it as if it were holy and sacred because it always will be to you. You smile and cuddle close to him. His arms envelop you in warmth, and his smell surrounds you, and you feel safe. 

"She was an old soul. She liked ABBA, Fleetwood Mac, and Janis Joplin. I'm convinced we played the Pearl album more than any other person on the planet," you say, kissing his shoulder. "Thank you for always asking about her."

"I like hearing about her," he says as if he were pointing out constellations— easy and undeniable. Her dad didn't even want to hear about her, and now this man who had never met her asks about her because you loved her. Because you still love her, and he loves you. This time, you do cry. You blame it on pregnancy hormones and a lack of sleep, but Joel knows it's something more. He kisses your tears away and rubs soothing circles into your back. "She'll always have a place in our home, d'you hear me?" He asks softly, and you nod. 

You fall asleep in his arms that night and almost every night, but this time you dream of little feet standing on your kitchen table, dancing along to Janis Joplin's crooning. You dream of teasing Jane's hair to match Stevie Nicks’ on the cover of her Bella Donna album. You dream of the day she came home, suddenly detesting ballet and wanting to take drum lessons instead. Something tells you she left some of her rockstar energy with you, and the new baby is taking it all in— pieces of her left in so much more than just your memory now. 

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Tag list: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts

[sunjaesol]

soljae | one shot, high school, one-sided pining | prompt: crush

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"Im Sol."

Sunjae strode towards the girl that stood a couple meters in front of him. His expression schooled into a cool and even look, he kept his eyes trained on the top of her head—even when she turned around and faced him.

He had no issue with eye contact… just with her, specifically.

"Sunjae-ah," she responded, mildly surprised.

A colourful knit sweater was thrown over her uniform, a little bulky and awkward as it clung to the edges of her blazer. The charms hanging on her backpack jingled when she turned around. Like most girls did, her fringe was still stuck in a little, pink roller.

She blinked, waiting for him to speak. When he didn't, she asked: "What's up?"

Yeah, what was up with him? He never approached her in the mornings. He usually waited until the afternoon, sometime after lunch, when he'd scrounged up enough courage to make an innocuous comment or ask a question. Sol kindly offered a response each time, even though he knew he was acting a bit weird. That was a thing he liked about her, he supposed; Im Sol didn't exclude people, even if said people acted aloof like him.

"I didn't know you also took the early bus," he found himself saying. It came out accusatory. Sunjae withheld a grimace. Why couldn't he just act normal around her?

Sol's brows raised. "Oh… um… yeah. The bake sale is today and me and my friends want to make sure that Taes—I mean, the students from our year get the best treats."

Sunjae kept staring at her. Tae-who? Was it Taesan? Taeyong? Taesung? His train of thought paused. If she liked Kim Taesung, he was going to drown himself in the pool this evening.

He bit his tongue. "Cool." Without another word, he continued his walk to the bus stop and quietly prayed that Sol would match his pace.

She did.

"Do you like desserts?" she asked conversationally.

He glanced at her from his peripheral vision. "Not really."

"Oh." Her lips pursed. "I guess that makes sense, with your dad's restaurant and all."

He hummed and kept his eyes on the sidewalk. He had to focus on not smiling, not grinning, not showing how much effect she had on him. Im Sol didn't need to know his heart had fallen to his feet the moment he laid eyes on her in the rain three full moons ago. Sunjae felt rather indifferent about movies, but he had a rental card from her mom's video store anyway. He liked ballads, but she listened to Girls' Generation so now he listened to Girls' Generation.

They arrived at the bus stop and waited with the other students on their ride. From the corner of his eye, he watched Sol take out her MP3-player and earphones from the front pocket of her backpack.

Stuffing his hands in his trousers, he uttered, "What're you listening to?"

"Huh?" Her hands stilled. "Oh. Um." She looked down at her MP3-player. "'Beginning' by Girls' Generation."

Before he could respond, she reached up, placed one earphone in his ear, and then she pressed play. Sunjae was frozen in shock at her bold move that he barely registered the electric guitar leading in the song.

She grinned. "My favourite is Yoona!"

Sunjae dumbly nodded. "Sure."

The bus rolled around the corner, forcing Sunjae to hand back the earphones. Their fingers brushed when he did, which only quickened the beat of his heart by threefold. In that briefest of moment, he felt the softness of her index finger and thumb.

Sunjae was going a bit crazy.

With the bus coming to a halt and opening its doors, that should indicate the end of their conversation (and the end of Sunjae's life, really, because a heart shouldn't be beating this fast), but something entirely different happened instead.

Sol offered him the space next to her on a two-seater.

Had Inhyuk been there, he would remind Sunjae to keep his cool and not fall to his knees in devotion to a girl he spoke all of ten words to, but Inhyuk wasn't here, so it took Sunjae's own willpower not to do all of the aforementioned right then and there.

And so, he nodded and sat next to Sol. He still didn't look her in the eye.

Sol kept quiet after that, too.

Turning his head fully away from her, a smile that had been simmering right under his cool frown broke to the surface, stretching his skin and aching his cheeks. A smile so dazzling the person at the other side of the aisle was likely confused. A thrill ran from the top of his head down to his gut. He was sitting next to Sol. He was sitting next to Sol!

For that twenty minute bus ride, Sunjae's mind dismissed all negative thoughts; swim practice, Kim Taesung's existence, his failing history grade. There was no evil in the universe when Sol's arm occasionally brushed his. If he could, he would turn back time and relive this singular moment over and over again.

He had it bad. He had it really, really bad for Im Sol.

The bus rolled into its drop-off lane at the school. All the students got off the bus and Sunjae made a point not to immediately run off to his friends. Looking over his shoulder, he watched Sol descend the steps of the bus.

For a split second, their eyes met.

Sol smiled. "See you around, Sunjae-ah!"

And then she ran off. Sunjae watched her go. For months, he knew, he would think about this. Rubbing a hand against his sternum, he collected his thoughts and looked around for Inhyuk.

Because if anyone knew who Sol was making baked goods for, it was his nosy gossip of a best friend.

[saedii-gilwraeth-simp]

Okay I'm back in my feels about tydii, so here have my list of headcannons that will never die;

Saedii's hair is uncontrollable when it's not braided, bc 7 braids that don't look stringy = thicc af hair and from experience, that shit is a nightmare regardless of texture. Tyler has made the mistake of undoing Saedii's hair for her before bed and waking up with both of them tangled in it many times.

Tyler likes older music and by that I mean he is 100% a swiftie. Saedii once threatens to break up with him bc if she has to hear the chorus of Shake it Off through their mind bond one more time while he's a galaxy away she's going to punch someone in the face (possibly herself).

Saedii's a biter and vastly enjoys watching Tyler try to look all official in his AL uniform with his neck covered in bruises. Even better if she knows he has to teach younger cadets who are all short enough to see them very clearly.

Tyler gets her back by being as obviously and publicly in love with her as he can. He will call her every ridiculous pet name that he can think of and holds her hand as much as possible. Saedii claims to hate it but no one misses that she's always the slightest bit more purple in the ears when he does it.

Saedii has the ship log footage of Tyler killing the drakkon saved on her personal uni. No one is really sure why. Except for Tyler, who knows exactly why she has it (bc long distance is a bitch and it gets her going lol)

Tyler keeps a list on his uni of all of the things he likes about Saedii. He sends her one every day if they have to be long distance. Saedii's not one for super open affection, but in return she sends him photos of things that made her think of him. They're not all winners (she sent him a photo of the Great Ultrasaur after they'd had a particularly nasty fight) but the good ones make up for the bad ones (and the one she once sent him of her in her favourite bra more than made up for plenty of bad ones).

Saedii sings their kids Syldrathi lullabies, but from memory, which means Tyler is unsure if they're actually lullabies or softened versions of some weird Syldrathi death metal (some of them are but Saedii won't tell him that). Ty's not much better, he goes between rock ballads and whatever hyperpop song Scar stuck in his head last. And Taylor Swift, because he's on a mission to get his kids to annoy their mother with it.

Tyler has pretty regular nightmares after all the shit he's seen and doesn't like to talk about it with the others because he wants everyone to think he's fine. Saedii always knows and will call him in the early hours of his day so he can get everything out of his system before he has to appear all perfect.

Saedii's lieutenants are more scared of her after she gets a Be'shmai than they were before. None of them are really sure what about it makes her seem scarier, but she is. And don't even get them started on how terrifying she was when pregnant (Tyler's not sure what they're on about, according to him, she was basically a teddy bear while pregnant).

The pair of them are complete horndogs. It's actually so stupid how often they get caught doing stuff in places they shouldn't be. Scarlett is fully ready to bleach her eyeballs just so she never has to walk in on them again.

They adopt many many animals over the years they're together. A couple were pets for their kids (Tyler vetoed a drakkon for either of them, so Lae had a snake and Kal had a husky) but after the kids moved out, Saedii got a couple of drakkon and Tyler got a couple of dogs. They also have a cat, but neither are really sure how, the cat just appeared one day.

Saedii is the favourite grandmother of all of her grandkids and she's definitely not emotional and totally normal about it. To be fair, Kal and Shae's kids don't have another option, but that's cancelled out by the fact that Lae and Flora's kids have about 6 other grandmothers.

Tyler gets so hot-and-bothered when Saedii's being bossy. And he plays it off for the most part, but if she asks he'll happily admit to her that she could step on him and he wouldn't complain. Saedii also gets hot-and-bothered when Tyler's being bossy. But only when he's bossy to other people.

Anyway, add more if you want

[verdemoun]

for once I’m not asking for angst 🤞 what kind of music would the modern au characters like? Like genres and bands :)

completely biased because i listen exclusively to musicals and late 00s teenage angst black parade is forever BUT

arthur: country music. including white girl country-pop music. can be caught doing little shuffle steps as he discreetly tries to dance along to a song stuck in his head while mumbling the lyrics under his breath. has main character moments smoking outside at night listening to need you now by lady a.

lenny: really into remixes. likes the extra pep it puts in his step, will accidentally walk to the beat and look like a dork. surprising amount of rock. but anything that's super lyrical, songs that tell a story, he will add to his playlist. duets what you own from rent with sean on karaoke nights.

sean: could not name a single band or genre he listens to because it's just anything with a high enough bpm to make his brain buzz. honorable mention to the cranberries and flogging molly but will do a fully choreographed routine to jailhouse rock without a single drink in his system.

hosea+bessie: any old timey easy listening ballads, occasional swing. hosea can't sing to save his life bless him but will still sing the really cheesy romantic lines to bessie as they slow dance in the living room after a few glasses of wine they're so in love please. anything that would be a first dance song at a wedding they have in their playlist

dutch: opera and orchestra forever. exact same music he listened to at camp will go on about kids these days and the hippity hop they dare call music. it takes him exactly 3 seconds after being introduced to cds and digital downloads to become a vinyl purist even complains about record players over gramophone.

annabelle+susan: annabelle is probably the most adapted to modern era she will listen to anything radio popular and susan is the same way inclined thanks to her job at at the local pub. but they both particularly enjoy bonnie tyler, kate bush and a sneaky bit of abba. think mamma mia is a cinematic masterpiece.

molly: mitski. boygenius. phoebe bridgers. aurora. any indie female lead who sings about broken hearts/betrayal/angry break up songs. listens to a suspicious amount of queer artists too.

kieran: the definition of 'i'll just be here listening to my tunes' only for the speakers to immediately cut to screamo. occasionally they can hear the bass through his headphones and gently remind him to turn it down to protect his hearing. despite this he will always get the mlp theme song stuck in arthur's head at the worst times.

javier: disgusted that disco was dead by the time he timewarped. just wants to boogie to that 70s funky beats. definitely has a playlist dedicated to john marston that is just any song with a reference to wolves. thinks he's hilarious. is the reason john can identity hungry like the wolf within two seconds of it starting (he walks out) (javier learned it on guitar. and both in english and spanish)

jack+isaac: mcr, panic, fallout boy. they will forever be on that angsty teenage bullshit. isaac may have designed them fabulous killjoy ocs and jack proceeded to write a 100k word self-insert fanfic about them. and they have matching mcr lyric tattoos. and mutually agree the kids from yesterday was actually written about them. play that g note and they both collapse with sorrow.

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

ℜ𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔏𝔬𝔰𝔱

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 2

𝓐𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔫

Astarion x Dark Urge Aristen poetry · commission for @aristenfromwarsaw

��Redemption Lost” song listening while reading – Aristen's song · Part 1 Astarion

✨️🥀✨️🥀✨️🥀✨️🥀✨️🥀✨️🥀✨️🥀✨️

My love that goes by the name of Astarion Will our love survive the night? The day, the light? Or was it just an illusion born from the darkness? Will you see me for what I am in the morning light and run? Created in an abyss of dark urgings I was not made good enough, to be loved What is a tree, with roots of evil? Bears only crimson buds of suffering Rise to the sky My soul cry out at night A flower, rotting and decaying without light Screaming for blood Touched by your gentle hands, bonding us with a red tie My darkness ignites by your stars’ light I try to be good, but the dark drags me down Blood and emptiness devour my hands Teeth ripping out my flesh The light nowhere to be seen Doomed to rot Or the mercy of fate? Deserved in all eternity Cut me out, run away Monsters of mine should eat me form inside, but never ever touch you Creatures, the monster with my face looking at me every day Clawing, screaming, drowning my head I should be banned and dead and not held in your lover’s arms Twisted mirror Deadly reflection I see a face myself unlovable, not worth your acceptance But your pale hand reaching out for me You never judge, forgive what I did How could I deserve someone not looking at me in disgust, but with compassion? You have seen my darkest nightmares and loved me anyway You feel it too, you see it too Smile without joy Death within life A crack in the empty mirror Burning in blood, drowning on air Hurting you is hurting me So my tears do pray and my heart will ask Screaming at the night’s sky I want to crawl inside your chest and die I want to be the secret inside your heart, maybe than my demons cannot find us Our story will be a love song and not a blood-stained ballad Astarion, the name of my love forevermore You’ve seen troubles and blue like me Your heart beating, making mine racing fast You survived torture, bigger, stronger men and kings would fall to Still able to love, still able to hope For me your heart and soul are dauntless With you the night is an endless dream If I go, If I die I would die with your name on my lips Your past carved into your soul like mine Compare our scars Erase them forever Overwrite them with the poem of our love psalm Sins and heart open – devotion fears nothing to hide Your hand on my cheek, keeps my head up high Above the bloody water You saved me from my darkness Let us make it out alive Escape the circles of damnation Can we be more, we were made to be? More than what we were condemned to be

✨️🥀✨️🥀✨️🥀✨️🥀✨️🥀✨️🥀✨️🥀✨️

a/n: second part of my commission for @aristenfromwarsaw

Astarion x Dark Urge Aristen poetry

She wanted a poem about how Astarion feels not good enough to be with her Durge Aristen, not worthy of her love. While Aristen sees Astarion as her true savior, despite she is desperate about her crimes as bhaal spawn and struggling with her past, that should forbid her being happy with a wonderful elf like Astarion, the only one that seem to understand her truly. All the more the irony of their thoughts and doubts. All your wonderful stories about your Aristen and Astarion, inspired me. And you know me, I love a dramatic, angsty, tragic love story the most. I hope I made it not to dramatic – but believe me, the first draft was even way more drama. For two weeks now I've been working on it and I have to say I'm very happy with it and I really like it. I hope you enjoy it, that it inspires you too and that it meets your expectations and gets the message across well. (If the song to this did not get stuck in your head, I'll be offended 😉😆😂) Maybe someone else will take a liking to it too as well. I would be delighted. I wish I could be so focused on working on things for my OCs. I've been writing a short fanfic about Astarion and Saulus since September and well...a stagnating WIP it is since then. This time it really should be like a conversation between Astarion and the Bhaalspawn. Or more like writing letters to each other. I got inspired to this writing style, of a music album from a band, where the first song on the CD was sung by a woman and told of a love story. The last song on the album was sung by a man and was the exact answer to her song. (Or the other way around) I thought that was great at the time. Unfortunately, I can't remember what kind of band it was. Not at all. I can't seem to remember anything these days. Maybe someone knows better than me which album I mean and can enlighten me. (I've noticed that I write differently when I'm composing on a laptop or starting in my bard/poetry book (obviously). Do you prefer the shorter stuff, poems/ballads with fewer/shorter lines? What do you say?)

[misc-obeyme]

unchained - chapter fifteen

masterpost read the chapter on ao3

recommended music: Don't Go Dark by DREAMERS word count: 2799

GN!MC x Arsenios [demon OC] a/n: I consider this to be the most cringe of chapters because of the lyrics that I made up. I described the song as well as I could, too, but it isn't really important as long as the message of it is clear. Anyway, Arrie's on his way to fuck some shit up at the end though lol. Warnings: none

Every time you saw Arsenios's empty seat in the classroom at RAD, your gut twisted as you remembered the way his door closed with such finality. You were convinced it was a temporary situation, that he was only trying to keep you away for your own safety. You weren't sure what he was doing now. You wanted to be there when he confronted Caligo, but you hadn't been able to convince him that you could handle it.

So when you saw a flyer on the bulletin board for a show by Angel's Temptation, you were surprised. The band wouldn't play without Arsenios. You looked around the hallway and quickly tore the flyer off the board. The band was scheduled to play at a small local venue that evening. Was Arsenios still working while he was trying to lure the reaper to him? Or was the band somehow playing without him?

You stuffed the flyer in your bag, where it stayed crumpled until after your student council duties. When everyone else had gone home, you waited until it was almost time for the concert. Then you took out the flyer and headed to the address printed on it.

You tried to tell yourself that you were only going for the music. You were a fan of the band now, it was only normal for you to support them by showing up. It was definitely not because you were desperate for a glimpse of him. Not at all because you were worried about the state he had been in when you saw him last.

You knew you couldn't go with any of the others. Arsenios would spot you with any of them instantly. Even so, you also knew that he had an uncanny knack of knowing whenever you were in the same room with him.

The venue was a small bar with a tiny stage lit by a set of dim lights. You lingered at the back, behind the crowd and against the wall. There were plenty of demons in attendance. Maybe you would be unnoticed.

You first saw the other band members, easily bantering with each other as they did their sound check. And then you saw Arsenios. His usual calm and confident demeanor had a heaviness to it that you didn't like.

You could see the dark circles of the tattoos on his hands. They were working on setting up a mic, but you thought about the way he clenched them when he was feeling especially serious or anxious. You knew just enough to understand what that meant. The story of how they had been mangled and then healed.

The set was a mixture of rock songs and slower ballads. It was more intense than the acoustic set they had played at Crimson Street, but quieter than the grand theatrical performances they put on at The Fall.

Arsenios had stuck to the electric guitar the whole time, singing with his usual deep baritone. You couldn't know if he was aware of your presence. His eyes scanned the crowd, but didn't focus on any one spot in particular. He was just as present as he normally was, clearly putting his soul into his performance.

After several songs, there was a brief pause. You watched as Arsenios seemed to be arguing with Chymion and Lael. Even Liviana left her drums to join them and say a few words.

Whatever Liviana had said, Arsenios calmed down. He waved at them, clearly exasperated, but not willing to argue further.

The lights dimmed and a spotlight illuminated a piano that you hadn't noticed at the back of the stage. Arsenios sat down at the piano and began to play without first introducing the song.

It began simply, a soft repetition of chords and a small scale in the melody.

And then Arsenios began to sing.

The piano became even simpler, reverting back to only chords as his voice soared over them, delicate and melancholy.

You listened to the first and second verses, enraptured. From the first lines of the lyrics, you knew they were about you. The reality of this only vaguely registered as a squeezing in your heart.

in the darkness I could hear you your heartbeat in my song

You held your breath as the accompaniment became a little more rapid and Arsenios's voice lifted into the chorus. It was like every note was full of something that only you could see. It was as though everyone else had disappeared. It was as though you were in the dark dance hall again, just the two of you. He was singing this song to you.

these hands are bloodstained but now I am unchained

The chords slowed down again for the third verse and you nearly jumped when you heard him sing words that you had spoken to him not that long ago. In the Devildom Botanical Garden, when he had finally told you more than he ever had about his past.

you said you don't care what I've done or what I've had to do

The chorus came in again and your mind was whirling. You weren't sure what this meant. This song he had written about you. What was he trying to say? It seemed like you should know, like it should be obvious. But there was so much pain in it still. Like he was desperate, like he didn't know what to do with his own feelings.

A brief musical interlude that involved some unexpected scales and fingerwork caught your attention as it descended into the loud and dramatic chords of the bridge.

I used to sing about heartache now all I can sing about is you

You listened to the chorus as he went through it twice more. But you were only barely hearing it. The way he varied the melody as he let the chords and his voice become loud before everything softened in a diminuendo. The last chorus was quiet, almost pleading. The final chord, a single scale, until all that was left was the distant ringing of the D minor in the bass clef and a single D in the treble. The echo that it seemed to produce as he let the sustain pedal carry the sound. The way it cut off abruptly as he sat back.

It was too much, wasn't it? Was this song really about you?

You wanted to know about Arsenios's past. You wanted to know what had happened to him and why he was still suffering from those events now.

But with this song, he had given you something else. You remembered two lines from the third verse.

but I would die a thousand times just to end up here with you

And suddenly everything made sense. This song was a confession. When you saw Arsenios at his apartment, he looked like he hadn't slept in days. He could barely look at you. And then he told you to stay away.

Arsenios was in love with you. And that was more frightening to him than any reaper could ever hope to be.

Your gut twisted because the truth of this hit you hard. The band began to play a new song, but you didn't hear it. You turned abruptly and nearly ran out of the venue.

As you rushed down the street, making your way back to the House of Lamentation blindly, your mind was focused on only one thing.

Did Arsenios know you were there? Did he know you were listening?

You still hadn't been able to tell. But he always knew when you listened to him at RAD. Why would this setting be any different?

If he had known, then he had performed that song on purpose. Was this his way of telling you how he felt? Was it because he couldn't actually say it to you directly?

And even if all of that was true, even if this was a real confession of love, did it matter?

Arsenios had told you it would be better for you to stay apart. He said it was too dangerous. He might love you, but did he trust you?

-

That night, Arsenios lay sprawled on his back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights, only trudged up the stairs of the loft and collapsed fully clothed on the blankets.

Of course Arsenios knew you were there. He could sense you the moment you walked into that small venue. You didn't come forward, only stayed against the back wall, but he didn't need you close to hear you.

Arsenios had memorized the rhythm of your heartbeat and the way it synced up with your breathing. He recognized the beat in your tread, every footstep, every motion. He could sense the song that accompanied you no matter where you went.

It was something he first came to know at RAD, simply because your humanity made it stand out among the cacophony of so many demons. Now it was like you were a radio turned to full volume. Any time you were anywhere near him, your sounds flooded his senses.

He hadn't had any intention of playing the song he wrote about you. But soon enough, Chymion had spotted you in the crowd and informed Lael and Liviana of your presence. Then it was three against one in the argument about whether or not he should play your song. He had lost.

Arsenios knew that was a lie. He could have argued harder.

But for some reason, he wanted you to hear it. He needed you to. His confession, though full of fear and uncertainty, was holding the only hope of healing he'd had in centuries.

And it might end up being the last thing he ever sang to you.

It wasn't that Arsenios believed he couldn't find a way to defeat Caligo if it came down to a fight. It was more that Arsenios knew he would sacrifice his life for you if he had to. You were never supposed to be part of this situation. The only reason Caligo was targeting you was because of him and your closeness to him.

Arsenios felt that the only way to keep you safe was to bring this situation to an end once and for all. He had thought it was over long ago, but now that it was back he wasn't going to just wait around. He wasn't going to put it off until it was too late to protect you.

Arsenios sighed and closed his eyes.

Lucifer had been right.

If you were at all competent-

If he was at all competent, none of this would even be happening.

If he hadn't trusted Caligo to begin with, all those years ago, this wouldn't be happening now.

Abby chose that moment to jump up onto the bed, landing directly on Arsenios's stomach.

"Oof!" He flung his hands out to catch her, sitting up with her in his lap.

"All right, I get it," he said to her. "I'll stop feeling sorry for myself, okay?"

Abby purred and pushed her head into his hand.

"I know what I have to do," he said. "I've never met anyone like MC, Abby. Their sound is so intimately human, so much happening and yet all working together perfectly. It's soothing. It… merges somehow with that hole in my heart. I'll do anything to keep them safe."

Abby meowed.

Arsenios felt the heaviness of guilt press down on him. There was one important detail about reapers that he simply hadn't told you. He was sure if you knew, you would be more insistent about accompanying him. It was only his good luck that kept you from finding out from someone else. He wasn't sure how long that luck would hold out. But he only needed one more day.

Arsenios knew it would be a simple matter to get to Caligo. He was ready and tomorrow, he would go find Barbatos.

-

Arsenios picked up Little D No 2 who had been scampering conveniently through the gardens at the Demon Lord's Castle. He kicked his little legs and gnashed his teeth, clearly unhappy to have been caught.

"Hey," Arsenios said. "Calm down, it's just me."

No 2 stopped mid-thrash and looked at Arsenios for a moment before smiling. "Arrie!"

"Yeah," Arsenios said. "Can you get Barbatos for me? I don't want anyone else in the castle to know that I've talked to him."

No 2 kicked his feet slightly. "You mean you don't want Lord Diavolo to know!"

Arsenios huffed. "Yeah, you got me."

"Is it 'cause he'll tell Lucifer?" No 2 asked.

"Stop asking questions and go get Barbatos, please," Arsenios said.

"Okay!" No 2 exclaimed.

Arsenios put him back down and watched him scramble off into the castle.

Moments later, Barbatos came out where Little D No 2 had gone in. He saw Arsenios instantly.

"Sorry," Arsenios said when Barbatos stopped beside him. "But can you send me to the Underworld? You know where I need to go. I don't have time to walk there myself."

Barbatos regarded Arsenios for a long moment. This wasn't unusual, necessarily, but there was a tension in the air. Arsenios folded his arms and waited.

"Is it wise for you to go alone?" Barbatos asked.

Arsenios frowned. "This is my problem. And I'm going to take care of it."

Barbatos actually chuckled, which made Arsenios glare at him. "How exactly do you plan on taking care of a reaper?"

"You think I can't handle it?" Arsenios asked.

Barbatos shook his head. "I simply wish for you to consider what you will do once you find him."

Arsenios paused. He had considered it, of course. "I'm… going to talk to him."

The fondness in Barbatos's eyes was both endearing and infuriating. "Do you think he will listen?"

Arsenios huffed. "Maybe not, but it isn't like I have a choice. Look, you can't talk me out of this. If you don't help me get there, I'll walk instead. I'm going to talk to him, try to get my grimoire back, try to end this peacefully. This has gone on too long and I'm not about to put MC's life in any more danger."

"And what about your life, Arsenios?" Barbatos asked.

"What's my life compared to MC's?" Arsenios shot back. He knew he was getting worked up. He took a breath in an attempt to calm himself.

Barbatos shook his head. "This is exactly why I am hesitant to send you."

Arsenios sighed. "Listen, Barb. You know me. I thought I was broken beyond repair. I didn't know I was searching until I found them. I don't plan to die tonight, but if I sacrifice my life to protect them then I'll be doing it knowing I'm saving the one thing that matters to me."

Barbatos closed his eyes in a long suffering expression. "Have you truly found what you think you have, I wonder? Or do you perhaps still fail to understand exactly what it is you have always been seeking?"

"Please, Barb, I don't have time for your all powerful demon riddles," Arsenios said.

Barbatos considered him for a moment. "Very well. I can see that there is nothing I can say to dissuade you. I will open the portal for you."

Arsenios looked suspiciously at this sudden reversal. "Is that right?"

Barbatos chuckled. "Have you changed your mind after all?"

Arsenios knew he didn't have the luxury to question it. "No. Send me, please."

Barbatos opened a portal. Just before Arsenios stepped through it, he said, "Please be careful."

Arsenios picked up his guitar, which he had left on a nearby bench, and stepped through the portal. He found himself in the Underworld - a dark and ominous corner of it, somewhat near to the reaper prison. Barbatos had known that Arsenios would need to be at a crossroads and that was exactly where he now found himself. The jagged dirt paths that connected beneath his feet were in the center of a forest full of black and leafless trees.

It was dark and empty. The sky was grey. Arsenios strummed a chord on his guitar and it fell dully into the air around him. He didn't let that stop him. He played another chord, letting his fingers get used to the feel of the strings in this strange place. Soon he began some elaborate finger work, soft but complicated. The notes whispered around him like hushed prayers.

Arsenios played the guitar this way for hours. He never stopped, never once faltered. And finally he was rewarded with a flash of silver, letting him know he had finally succeeded. The reaper he sought was not far off, his yellow eyes gleaming from the depths of the trees.

masterpost | chapter fourteen | chapter sixteen [coming soon]

taglist: @avalordream @lonely-north-star @expressionless-fr @featheredcrowbones @pumpkinsareamazing

@szired @bagofwetmice @ashley675901

as always, please comment or dm me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[snowfolly]

So I got to the Daylight Inn in BG3 today and I had Astarion in my squad, and as we were hanging out and chatting up Isobel after rescuing her from Marcus, I started hearing a male character singing really softly. I switch characters around to see if I can find them and BOOM I find out ot's Astarion singing softly to himself while idle. I couldn't quite make the lyrics out but he sounded a bit distant and sad...made me want to hug him again.

OH NO… little guy, that’s so cute ;A; I absolutely love this and really, really hope this triggers for me in (one of) my current pts!

I have heard audio of him humming before (and it was so flat- which is super endearing to me lol), BUT this ask made me have some big hcs and I had to write and draw some boys about it lol

-

I imagine that Astarion really, truly loves to sing, that he gets catchy tavern songs stuck in his head for days and goes about his business singing to himself. However, the other spawn would continuously tell him to never to do so in their presence because he can't hold a tune, what kind of elf can’t sing? And what in the names of all the gods did he have to sing about anyway? Besides the song of agony that Cazador made him sing…

By the time he ends up a tadfool in our favorite merry band of misfits he’s learned well not to dare let his discordant voice slip in front of other people. He has to be charming, he has to be pleasant so that they keep him around. And his song is not a pleasant one.

He can’t help himself though, he still hums and sings quietly as he strolls through the woods, when he’s reading or sewing, in times when he thinks he’s entirely by himself. But Tav, godsdamnit, Tav takes notice. 

Tav startles him one night, telling him that they recognize the tune that he’s humming and that it’s one of their favorites. Astarion’s pissed that they were listening in on him, but he’s more surprised that he isn’t shot down immediately, that he’s not met with expected snark for not being able to carry a tune in a bucket, but Tav doesn’t belittle him… which is odd.

In time Astarion still keeps his songs to himself around the rest of the party, but as he begins to trust Tav he finds himself becoming more and more relaxed with them. He realizes that he can be himself around them, well, whatever parts of himself still left to him at this point anyway.

But it was a novel concept, this acceptance, a concept he learned to greatly appreciate. And Tav seems pleased to see (and hear) him being comfortable with them, being happy. Tav cares for him.

Tav cares for him after no one had given a rats ass about him for two centuries. What a concept indeed.

So Astarion continues humming flatly and singing badly,  Tav joins him often and they belt out old folk songs or bawdy tavern numbers together on their long journey, making up colorful (and hilariously crass) new verses as they go. 

And he comes to realize that this, this time with Tav is what being close to a person is supposed to feel like.

That being put down and belittled for something that a person enjoys is not universal. 

That constantly being on guard is not normal.

That another person can actually bring him joy, and that caring for someone is... possible.

Tav says that they enjoy singing with him, that they could go on singing with him forever, that they love his song.

And would it be so bad to sing of love instead of sorrow? Would it be so bad to share his song with them for as long as time would allow? He wasn’t quite sure yet, it was all so new.

But as he walks with Tav, arm in arm, belting out a bawdy old ballad to the heavens and all unfortunate ears within a mile, he had to admit that the thought of forever was enticing.

-

Thank you so much for the ask! And sorry it took 5ever bc it inspired me to make a little Drabble and doodle :>

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Ballad of the High Lady of Spring

Part 1 - The Mate

“Get your shit together or abdicate.”

Inspired by the song “Innocent” by Taylor Swift

Set post-ACOSF: Over 50 years after leaving him, Tamlin’s former lover returns to the Spring Court. Can the warrior help him fight his inner-demons, reflect on his wrongs, and bring his court back to life, or will this be the one battle she can’t win?

A/N: This fic is not a love story. It’s an attempt at healing with angst, a bit of humor, and a little fluff sprinkled throughout. You will see some of your favorite characters later on.

Warning: suicidal ideation, some suggestiveness, language

PART 1 - THE MATE

Rolling away from the sudden burst of sunlight, he let out a rasp… or was that supposed to be a growl?

Pathetic.

“It reeks to high hells in here. When did the manor become a stable, Tamlin? Do you let your horses wander the corridors as well?”

Finally a gravelly roar escaped his maul. “Amal, get the HELL out!!!”

She did no such thing. Maintaining a warriors gait, she marched toward his bed and leaned down, glaring the beast before her directly in the eyes. “You can get out of bed for me, NOW. Or I can make this very unpleasant for you. Choose wisely.”

The bastard roared, giving a warning snap toward her face. A snap that at one point would have sent his bravest soldiers stumbling back, reduced to nothing but the nip of an overgrown puppy.

“Wow.” She pursed her lips, arms crossing in front of her chest for emphasis. “Very well then.”

She snapped her fingers as litres of frigid water rained down upon him.

He jolted, the freezing temperature jarring enough to shift him back into his fae form. She was taken aback by the male before her. Gone was the gorgeous toned body of a feared warrior, the near-glowing complexion, and lustrous golden locks. Before her was a broken male, wallowing in a bed of his own making. Deep purple circles hallowed his under eyes. His muscle definition soft in terms of a High Lord. Matted dull hair clung to his head. And gods, there were burrs stuck in it.

Ah, but the flared nostril, curled lipped snarl of a temper-ridden male, that remained. At least it was a sign of life she supposed.

“Get. The. Hell. Out!!!!” he roared again.

“No, I don’t think I will.” She sternly remarked.

And that was that. The male slowly sat up grumbling, “Can you allow me the privacy to dress?”

She waved him off, turning away from his naked form. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. You will need to bathe before you dress. I’m not dining with you in your current state.”

He growled lowly, mumbling under his breath that he hadn’t requested HER presence in the first place, before reluctantly padding past her toward the bathing room.

She didn’t know whether to be pleased or saddened by the lack of resistance he met her with. Enough resistance that had he been one of her troops, she would have knocked him on his ass within a minute. Much less, however, than she’d expected from her former lover.

Good gods, this male was no better than a petulant child. After a far-too-quickly-to-have been-thorough few minutes, he emerged from the bathroom, towel slung low on his waist, burrs and mats still intact.

“Burrs, Tamlin. You have burrs in your hair.” She huffed, pushing past him into the bathing chamber. How long had it been? Over 50 years now? She still knew this room like it was second nature, digging through the various cabinets for the soaps and oils she’d need to groom the beast.

“Back in you go.” She demanded. Placing a hand over her eyes in emphasis that she indeed was NOT looking.

“Bubbles?” he asked roughly as he sunk back into the water.

“What - Do you find them emasculating? They make for an excellent modesty barrier.” She placed her hands in his hair. “Tilt your head back.”

Saying nothing, he obeyed. It took nearly an hour to detangle, wash, lather, and rinse his hair - working in silence the entire time. Though she’d never admit it out loud, a pang of sadness went through her at this grave of his own making. A deep pit of unwillingness to accept his own faults, trapped by his refusal to accept the hands that reached to pull him out.

Lucien put in more effort than Tamlin deserved. Even Rhys made an effort, though it served his own self-interests. She assumed his self-interests aligned with her own, which really weren’t all that selfish. A court falling apart weakened Prythian as a whole, especially given the Spring Courts proximity to the vulnerable mortal realm.

With a sigh, she signaled that her work was complete, gesturing toward the door. “I found a clean outfit and laid it on the dresser for you. Please join me in the garden for a meal once you’ve dressed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gardens were in terrible shape. Overgrown vines wound around the various statues. Once vibrant flowers wilted all around, thorns overgrowing into the the walkways. It was a cold tactic to ask Tamlin to join her here. While he could use the sun and fresh air, the bistro table was strategically set up next to his mother’s prized rose garden, no longer meticulously attended in honor the late Lady of Spring.

Tamlin reluctantly made his way to the table. No confidence or strength in his stride, a shell of the powerful male he once was. Was he still in there? Doubts echoed through her mind. She took a breath, pushing the thoughts out.

He slunk down before her, pushing the plate of roast lamb, asparagus, and boiled potatoes away, crossing his hands in front of him. “What do you want, Amal?”

“I’d like for you to eat.” she stated plainly, pushing the plate back toward him.

The male complied. Not without including his own charming brand of obstinance, unsheathing his claws to use as cutlery.

Once satisfied with the amount cleared from his plate, she continued. “Tamlin, look at this place.” She flung an arm toward the wilted garden around them. “Your mother’s rose garden is a mess, the property is overrun with vines and thorns, your entire court is in shambles. Your citizens are exhausted. They’ve worked tirelessly to reap what they can given their current resources. There’s only so much to be cultivated from a land that isn’t giving back.”

“And?” he leaned back, mirroring her now crossed arms.

“And? You know exactly what. Your people do not deserve a leader who cannot even care for himself. You’ve neglected them entirely. They’re hurting. It’s time to get your shit together or abdicate.”

Oh, Tamlin did not appreciate that. Good.

Let it light a fire under his ass. She could handle the aftermath of his temper.

His face reddened, a small ripple of power emanating off of him. “You have some nerve coming here and commanding a HIGH LORD to abdicate his throne.”

“Do I, Tamlin?” She scoffed. “If I remember correctly, mates are equals. I’d assume I have every right to discuss such matters with you, High Lord.”

His jaw slackened, fists unclenching as he opened his mouth to say something, anything. Yet words completely failed him.

“Oh don’t look at me like that.” She leaned forward, interlacing her hands on the table. “You knew exactly what I was to you - why I left. In the same way that you knew you couldn’t remain close to your mate and break Amarantha’s curse. Whether it be by warming her bed, or finding a fae-hating human to fall in love with you. I would have always gotten in the way of Prythian’s shot at freedom. YOUR shot at freedom.”

Tamlin scoffed. “It still doesn’t explain why you’re here. Why now?”

“Because, Tamlin, I’m growing tired of the unsolicited feelings of guilt and rage that intrude upon my days. It’s rather inconvenient to be in the throes of passion and moments away from climax just for a sudden wave of self-loathing hatred instead of pleasure to wash over me.”

Tamlin sneered at the brazen confession before self-righteously questioning, “What of my court? Or could it be that your efforts are not so selfless?”

She brushed off his attempt to goad her. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I am selfish and here for my own personal motives.” Her voice softened before continuing, “Tell me, those nights when you’ve spiraled into a pit of desperation so deep that the only way out was completely ending your existence - where do you think the spark, that little piece inside of your soul telling you to hold on a little bit longer came from?”

Tamlin cast his gaze downward, brows drawing inward at the realization of what, who had been his last bit of restraint in those moments.

She knew she could have put those words more eloquently. She also knew the male she was dealing with and getting through to him did not come through subtlety.

Amal continued, “I am here because Calanmai is coming up and your court needs you. Their livelihoods depend on the magic.”

He cut her off - “So you’re here to seduce me.”

A sarcastic laugh escaped her lips. “However fun that may be, I am not. You need to make an elaborate event out of this. For your people, Tam. If you’re not ready to move on in an intimate manner, it is your right and nobody can take that away from you. But your people, they need to at least see you.”

“Lu-“ He started but she cut him off.

“Lucien… is not able to complete the right and he never should have been coerced into doing so in the first place. He stays out of this. I will complete the rite. I have no qualms with finding companionship for the night, and as your cauldron chosen mate - the power can flow through me in your stead. You, however, will need to make an appearance. Not for the sake of the land, but for your people.”

“My people do not wish to see me.” his voice edged with a note of sorrow.

“You have not made an effort with your people in some time, Tam. Regaining their trust will not come easily, however, this is not a lost cause. You are not a lost cause. The tightrope you’ve balanced on for decades finally snapped - let me help you find your way out - starting with Calanmai.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was hard. Hard knowing the male he once was versus the male he’d reduced himself to. Tamlin had never been perfect and given the horrid males he grew up with, she’d never expected that from him. But he tried, and he was better than them.

Throughout their courtship, Amal and Tamlin had countless fights over the bigoted views rooted deeply within his mindset. Unlike his family before him, he made an effort to unlearn his biased views. He was still terribly stubborn and slow to change but she couldn’t help the pride that swelled in her chest at his progress. She had even started to see a future with him, began falling in love with him.

Everything changed once Amarantha’s reign became imminent. Tamlin became fearful, that fear driving a wedge deeper and deeper into the foundation of their relationship. The final blow being that damned curse - leaving was one of the hardest decisions she’d ever made but it was necessary.

She didn’t know all of the details regarding what happened with the High Lady of the Night Court and Tamlin, but from bits and pieces she’d picked up from her cousin and High Lord, Helion - it came as no surprise that fear played such a role in the demise of their engagement. His treatment of the High Lady absolutely inexcusable.

Their return from Under the Mountain had been when the fits of rage and corresponding guilt began flooding Amal through the bond. The first time, she thought she’d fallen ill but as the bouts continued, the waves began crashing harder and harder. The further down he spiraled, the more the dam gates released. She allowed him time, hoping after the war with Hybern that he’d begin to pull himself out, but his anguish only grew.

After a recent run-in with Lucien, he’d caught Amal up on his own personal situation with the mating bond and the Calanmai where Ianthe weaseled her way into the cave with him. Evil, conniving bitch. Ianthe’s death aside, there was no way Amal would subject Lucien to the Great Rite again. He’d sacrificed enough for Tamlin and the Spring Court, which is what brought her back here now.

After her lunch with Tamlin, he’d reluctantly agreed to her plan for Calanmai. They had two weeks to prepare whatever they could.

Later that afternoon she’d found herself back in Tamlin’s chamber huffing at the state of the room. “I’m not your maid. I am a head of armies, not homes. Do not expect me to do any housekeeping beyond this for you. Tomorrow you will hire proper staff to maintain both the grounds and the manor itself.”

She spent the rest of the day preparing her own chamber and surveying the manor for its most pressing needs. Filling lists categorized from most essential to least for the staff that Tamlin would hire. There was still the matter of the field and roads that would need cleared in order to access the festivities, wood for fires, food for attendees, and entertainment.

The humor wasn’t lost on her that the future of the Spring Court relied on the success of what was essentially a giant sex party.

The boost in employment leading up to the night would benefit the local economy, the magic generated during Calanmai further boosting the economy by way of crops. In addition to the increase in fruits and vegetables, animal populations thriving off of the flora would go further in feeding families.

Although he wouldn’t be partaking in the joining itself - Tamlin agreed to make an appearance at Calanmai - serving as a first step in mending the relationship with his people. Amal even suggested that once he return to the manor that night, he “gratify” himself in an effort to boost the magic further. He rolled his eyes in dismissal of such a recommendation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tamlin

How long it had been since Amal had left, since under the mountain, since Feyre left, even Lucien’s last visit? He didn’t know. Day and night, months and years, they all melded together in a haze of alcohol induced sedation. Anything to numb the sorrow, rage, guilt, and fury that consumed him, eating away at his mind and soul. Those feelings had always been there, since his childhood, laying in semi-stagnant layers underneath his skin, rising higher with every trauma. His father’s abusive tendencies, the death of Rhysand’s sister and mother, his own mother’s death, losing Amal, Amarantha’s curse, Andras and all of the other sentries lost over the wall, the pain he’d caused Lucien, but Feyre… losing Feyre is where he’d lost any semblance of control. Before she’d physically left even. He lost her under the mountain and deserved it.

He’d always been able to keep those emotions reasonably at bay, justifying his fearful tendencies under the guise of “protecting.”

When Amal left, he waived off the heartache. He protected her in saying “goodbye”. In truth, it was her choice to leave. He was so afraid to lose her yet never once considered the idea of sending her away to avoid further repercussions from Amarantha. She would have died from his lack of inaction had she not made the choice herself.

When Tamlin went along with his father and brothers to kill Rhysand’s family, he told himself he was going in an effort to stop the bloodshed from happening - to protect them. Somewhere deep within, he knew it was fear driving him - fear of the repercussions from his father had he refused inform him of their whereabouts.

When he’d punished Lucien under the mountain, fear once again motivated him. Yet it was “protection” he told himself, from further harm falling upon Lucien.

And Feyre, oh, Feyre. His beautiful Feyre who made his stone heart beat again. His fearless Cursebreaker. Everything he wasn’t. His fear kept him placated while she risked her life for him, for his people. While she DIED for his people. A treasure, a precious gem, the one he most feared losing. Ironic that the curse of his stone heart had been broken just for fear to take its place. Those stagnant emotions festered, bubbling to the surface, became a living thing inside of him. His mask of gold, traded for a mask called “protection” - hiding the coward underneath. When she left, that mask left with her, ripping off flesh and bone, revealing what lay beneath. And she saw him, truly saw him. Every pathetic ounce. Not the heart of a lion but a coward. A stupid fool. He deserved every bit of retribution she threw at him.

He was never mad at Amal for leaving, ever the martyr who “let” his mate leave for safety. But Feyre, he thought himself angry with her. When she left the Spring Court with Lucien, he convinced himself she was the enemy. Going as far as to blame her for the downfall of his court. The court he single handedly destroyed. He knew the truth, had refused to accept it. Going as far as to imply she were a whore. A pathetic male. Unworthy of his power, his position, and more than anything - Feyre.

He wasn’t worth the air he breathed - didn’t wish to breathe it any longer.

Yet something kept him in bed. Kept him breathing.

“Tomorrow.” It whispered. A promise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amal lay in bed, desperate for sleep. The close proximity to Tamlin was too much. His emotions absolutely drowning her. It took everything in her not to rush to his room and soothe him. No, he needed to feel this. A bandage being ripped off after years of bleeding. If he were to change, to heal, this had to happen.

Tomorrow was a new page. Tomorrow would be a drop of water toward an ocean of change.

“Tomorrow.” She whispered into the night.

—————————

Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for part 2.