#and then all this grammy talk got me deeper???? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beautifulpersonpeach · 1 year ago

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Sorry pls ignore my last ask BPP. Your point about Seven being the 'Dynamite' equivalent in solo era is a good one and explains the treatment it got. After the BB article I also now understand why BH dropped LC. If BB believed the LC record was 'tainted' with Chinese cash and BH never had that 'Dynamite' promotion plan for it, everything that's happened makes sense. But it still leaves a nasty taste in my mouth. I can't wash it out. Are we now at the mercy of BB's whims? Also don't you find the support for Seven excessive? Is the elimination of direct to consumer sales enough to explain that kind of support to keep it number 1? I'm just trying to understand how the company is thinking about things without victimizing the members. They all seem to be still working with purpose so I feel they don't feel shortchanged, but from the outside looking inside it doesn't feel fair.

Ask 2:

Hi BPP,

Re: bb article

1. Do you think there will be additional changes coming, making sales even less relevant for bb charts?

2. I absolutely hate that it is again Jimin that takes the brunt of all this bulshit, I really do. He doesnt deserve this at all. But he is strong, he will be OK. That being said, its making me really upset IRL, so I will have to do some me time.

3. I would be interested to know your outlook on BB as a whole when it comes to BTS and their future in US market (if you have talked about this pls refer me to the post)

My opinion is, that while BB is paramount when it comes to big awards season, eventually BB and the awards themselves serve as a kind of promotion, to validate the artist to their (potential) fanbase, keep them invested etc. BTS guys do all of that on their own, with their music, personalities and lyrics. So going forward, if they dont chart as much, dont win as much... It will not matter in the long run. Their fan base is so solid that I trully believe they will have no problem selling multiple stadium stops 25 years from now. Easily.

There will be a significant fandom fall off, when all the people who are here for bragging rights lose their interest. And that is a good thing... But the people who will stay, who love the guys for who they are and for their art, those whose love does not depend on how many grammy noms or BB H100 they recieve... These people will stay and buy the tickets. And their numbers will still be enourmous. Enviable. More than the majority of the western industry plants can only dream of.

Rant over. Have a good weekend

Ask 3:

The latest Billboard discussion is disheartening, but the NYT article description of U.S. conservatives aping the tactics of Swifties and BTS fans to get their nefarious messaging across is even more so. Have we opened the gate for the Trumpsters of the world?

I was struck by this partvof the original question to you"

'... figure out a way to truly determine which songs are most popular (whatever that even means anymore)....'

So, how can we ever know what is truly popular? Are fervent fans willing to devote time and resources to get their fave to the top really the best arbiters? Even if they number in the millions, we are still looking at support that is far deeper than it is wide.

I mean, better than the suits deciding, I guess? Or is it just another group--this one outside of the target country--imposing their agenda on the population? One has the goal of making money; the other of winning a fan war.

So, how do we ascertain what is truly popular with the much-vaunted GP? Or doesn't it matter?

***

I've said many times on this blog that I'm not a writer, and that English isn't my first language, so I suppose it's unsurprising that despite my efforts putting my thoughts to paper/Tumblr, I'm still unable to fully communicate it in a way people understand right away, to eliminate/answer a lot of questions that I believe should be clear to infer from what I've written before. So rather than write a massive post like before where my key points could get lost, I'll pick out key questions from your asks and give fairly brief answers to each one. I'll work my way from the top, down.

Hi Anon(s),

Select answers below:

"Also don't you find the support for Seven excessive? Is the elimination of direct to consumer sales enough to explain that kind of support to keep it number 1?"

I think the results speak for itself. Dynamite and the PET got what is easily the biggest support any BTS release had gotten to date at the time - all of it tailored to mirror how American labels promoted their tracks, *and* the fandom had D2C sales buttressing it as the primary support mechanism. Like, please read that sentence again and think about what it means. Sales are the easiest and most transparent way for the fandom to influence charts, and so was always preferred for ARMY. Even if you weren't in the fandom then, understand it's impossible to overstate how much D2C sales mattered. With that now out of the question, everything we're seeing for Seven for me feels like a given, especially after the Billboard article.

"Do you think there will be additional changes coming, making sales even less relevant for bb charts?"

Yes. But not 'less relevant' in a sense, more like differentiated and treated as its own thing, perhaps in a separate chart.

"I would be interested to know your outlook on BB as a whole when it comes to BTS and their future in US market (if you have talked about this pls refer me to the post)"

This probably requires its own post but the long-short of it is: just like Ticketmaster, Billboard is only one arm of one of the largest private monopolies in the US entertainment market - PMC, and as such they serve as gatekeepers of sorts. Their interest in BTS (and k-pop by extension) lies primarily in how they can profit off the group/fandom, which so far BigHit and ARMY have created very limited avenues for. BigHit's strategy until now has been to expand BTS's reach without relying on the PMC apparatus, using it only for select releases that are explicitly tailored for it e.g. Seven and PET. While I don't think this strategy will change dramatically, every change from BB is to force more compliance with their apparatus. BTS will continue facing handicaps from PMC so long as BigHit continues limiting how PMC can profit from BTS for each release. (This sentence makes sense in my head but if it's not clear, please let me know.)

"Have we opened the gate for the Trumpsters of the world?"

Well, yeah. But ARMYs can't take all the credit. After all, ARMYs are only doing what the Bey Hive and Swifties have been doing for almost a decade with none of the scrutiny. BTS, more than any other group, actually has the absolute numbers in demand and grassroots support to justify it as they're comparable to the afore-mentioned artists, proven by their concert showings not just in the US but worldwide, as far back as 2018. People only started paying attention to ARMYs' movements because BTS didn't look like the sorts of people they expected to see at the top of the charts. Everybody took notice, including a political faction in the US that in recent years has moved more aggressively into the entertainment sphere to influence culture, such as Ben Shapiro's entertainment empire, movies like Sound of Freedom topping box office charts, and conservative country singers pushing Reagan-esque talking points to the top of music charts. So it's basically the result of timing and opportunity.

"So, how can we ever know what is truly popular? Are fervent fans willing to devote time and resources to get their fave to the top really the best arbiters? ... how do we ascertain what is truly popular with the much-vaunted GP?"

I've talked about this before I think. You can find my views on it in my Masterlist, and I've linked the post here.

People sent in more asks on BB but I've since lost interest in this topic and will post my responses when I feel like it, much later, using the same format I've used to answer the asks above. The truth is that while I understand why many people feel like everything that's happened so far with Seven and Jimin is unfair, I think a lot of the discourse is awfully reductive, actually does a disservice to Jimin and BTS, and that there's a much bigger picture here that's more consistent with how BTS has operated for the last 10 years.

This is probably not the best analogy, but one way I think of BTS is like a Swiss army knife, with each member being a separate tool. And that at different points, in various markets, BigHit and BTS are testing various approaches to expand their reach while aiming to maintain the market share they've gotten so far. The group has always had projects they release that have more artistic merit and cache, versus projects made by all appearances to be purely for commercial purposes to expand the reach of the group. For example, consider how BigHit promoted Butter/Permission to Dance, compared to the BE album, or how Seven was created and promoted relative to Indigo. To go back in even further in previous years, I remember how BTS appeared to center Jimin in Blood, Sweat & Tears era to build out his and their presence in Korea, and Taehyung in DNA era where his and BTS's presence in China ballooned in 2017.

While in the solo era some people feel like every accomplishment remains solely with individual members, I feel everything serves only one purpose: to further establish the group. Because by BTS's own words, they all have their individual ambitions, they've always had that and each member is aggressively competitive on that note, but they've each all said that their priority remains the group. Not everybody likes that, not everybody believes them when they say it, but the good thing with BTS is that they plan in multi-year stints and time always reveals what the facts of the matter are. We're only one year into Chapter 2, and while certain parts of the fandom are treating their solo debut albums as the be all and end all, I don't think there's anything to suggest this perspective lines up with the reality of how BTS has behaved for the last 10 years. I could be wrong, but either way we're just going to have to wait and see. In the meantime, I believe there's significant artistic merit in what the guys are putting out in Chapter 2, that I hope isn't lost in the noise. The fandom should do a better job of bringing the attention back to this, rather than a tunnel-vision on performance metrics that only tell half of the story.

#bts #bts chapter 2 #bang pd #jimin #jungkook #jikook #namjoon #yoongi #hoseok #seokjin #taehyung #billboard #kpop #kpop industry #music industry #fandom behaviour

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years ago

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Midnight Blades {24}

Aemond Targaryen x princess!reader (Dark!themes) Summary: Your trip to the Temple takes a turn as the emotional turmoil triggers labour. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, gore, birth, death WC: 2860

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine || Part Ten || Part Eleven || Part Twelve || Part Thirteen || Part Fourteen || Part Fifteen || Part Sixteen || Part Seventeen || Part Eighteen || Part Nineteen || Part Twenty || Part Twenty-One || Part Twenty-Two || Part Twenty-Three || Part Twenty-Four || Epilogue

The Temple of the Blood Witches was closed when you arrived, the acolytes having all left for the evening, but you held the skeleton key that opened the heavy doors. Your steps echoed along the stone of the foyer before you descended the damp stairwell that led to the apothecary storage rooms in the cellar.

“Slow down,” Aemond warned as he followed you down after stopping first to light a torch. “I know you are in pain.”

“How do you know that?”

“You think I do not know my wife?” he scoffed, swapping the torch to his other hand so he could place one on the small of your back. “You have been flinching with every step. Wait here and I’ll find the medicine.”

“Stars forbid, you will probably find the water hemlock root instead.” He looked offended but you ignored it as you took another step. “I’m fi-” Your words died as you looked down in time to see the gush of water splatter at your feet.

“Shit,” Aemond cursed as he wrapped his arm around you and tried to turn you back up the stairs. “Let’s go.”

“No,” you spat as you fought against him. “Not without the pain relief. Unless you plan on knocking me out, I suggest we get moving.”

Aemond looked like he was ready to take you up on the offer but he sighed and pushed his fingers back through his long hair. “You are fucking infuriating.”

“Now is not the time for sweet talking, dear husband.”

The pain that had been growing steadily since you realised your fathers condition rapidly progressed after your waters broke. With each bend in the stairwell that led you deeper into the bowels of the Temple you could feel the contractions strengthening but you pushed it to the back of your mind and focused on what your father needed.

The doors that lined the hall were once darkhouses, the cold and damp environment perfect for growing all manner of flora that could not thrive in the warmer climate above the surface. Some were still used for things such as the hallucinogenic fungi that aided with prophetic visions and helped lift the spirits of those feeling pain in the heart but most were turned to cool storage rooms over the centuries.

“Here,” you said as you handed Aemond the key and pointed to a specific door before leaning against the wall and suppressing the deep groan that was building. “Can you grab a jar from the cedarwood box? Not the redwood.”

Aemond took the keys without a word and hurried to the door, quickly unlocking it and slipping inside with the torch. You doubled over in the dark as you gritted your teeth and more liquid ran warm down your thighs. Your tongue bled as you bit it to keep silent and the coppery scent hit you as you slid down the cold floor, your skirts bunching up over your bent knees.

“Got it,” Aemond called out, the torch filling the hall as he reappeared and found your hands between your legs.

“She’s crowning,” you whispered through tight lips as you felt her head breaching your canal. “Cloak.”

Aemond stabbed the torch into the wall sconce and shucked his cloak as he fell to his knees between your legs. Your fingers came away red in the fire light and they trembled as adrenaline flooded your entire body.

“Wha-what do I do?” Aemond stammered as he saw the blood slick along your thighs and feared the worst. Aemond had been witness to Selaena’s birth but Grammy had been the one to deliver her, just like Aedira. He had not paid too much attention to anything other than your comfort and then the feeling of holding his newborn in his arms.

“Feel…feel for the cord,” you panted as the pressure grew and Aemond gave a choked sound as her face appeared. “Unwind it if…it is around her…neck.”

Your head fell back against the stone wall with a thud but the pain was secondary as Aemond pushed your legs wider apart and checked for the umbilical cord. “I can’t see anything, there’s too much blood.”

“Aemond,” you murmured as your eyes started to drift shut.

“My dear daughter.” Your eyes flew open wide as you saw your father standing to your left, his hand resting on your shoulder though you did not feel it. “You cannot rest just yet.”

“My little witchling.” Your mother appeared at your right just as you remembered her, and she crouched by your side as she touched your clammy brow. “You have done so well but your journey is not over yet, Mother of Queens. Push, darling.”

“I’m tired,” you whimpered before another shade appeared, then another. Grammy and Nate stood beside your mother and father. Each pair was a leader and their rightful heir for the titles you held.

“I know, sweetheart,” your mother cooed gently, “but the living world needs you and that little girl.”

Grammy’s eyes faded to moonlight and her head tipped back as a hum of power filled the hall. “Three daughters, three Queens, the blessed trinity to unite the lands.”

Your mother patted your cheek as she said, “Remember, and live.” She slammed her palm into your chest and you felt as if you had been struck by lightning as the torch flared brightly and a gasp erupted from you.

“-kill you myself!” Aemond shouted as he shook your shoulders and fell back on his heels as you startled awake. “By the gods, you’re alive…”

The whisper of Grammy’s words echoed in your head as a fresh contraction tightened your abdomen and you screamed as your fingernails dug into your knees that you gripped as you pushed. Aemond launched forward with his cloak as the pressure released with the torrent of hind waters and a shrill cry broke the air.

You slumped against the wall as Aemond gathered the little girl wrapped in his cloak into his arms. He carefully shifted to your side so you could rest against him and look at the beautiful babe he held while you birthed the placenta.

“You scared me,” he whispered as he blinked a teary eye at you. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Guess the god of death spat me back out again,” you chuckled but it fell short at the glare he gave you. You reached out and caressed your babe’s soft cheek that was quickly gaining colour as you murmured, “I saw them all on the other side; Grammy, Nate, my mother…and my father. He’s gone, Aemond.”

Your husband pressed his lips to your forehead as he murmured his condolences, trusting the power in your blood to hold the innate knowledge despite being miles away from the palace.

“I need you to cut it,” you said weakly as you saw the umbilical cord pale and the pulsing stop as the nutrient rich blood passed to your daughter.

Aemond pulled the leather band from his hair with bloodied hands and tied it close to your daughter's stomach before he drew Midnight from your hip. He carefully folded the cord over the blade and sliced cleanly through it, letting the longer length fall to the floor between your legs.

“Megaera,” he said, breaking the silence as he wrapped the cloak back around her. “What do you think?”

“Megaera,” you tested the name on your tongue and smiled. “It’s perfect.”

You should have been resting but royal custom dictated the funeral procession begin as soon as possible. A week was all you were allowed to recover from the blood loss and childbirth before the people gathered at dawn.

The peak of Mount Vigor loomed ahead as you trailed the horse and wagon that carried the King, each step reviving the ache in your abdomen and between your legs. You would put your emotions aside, you would be unfeeling to the pain in your body and soul. You would hold your head high and make your father proud as you put one foot in front of the other and cradled your new babe in your arms.

Aemond already had his arms full as Selaena begged to be carried as her legs tired with the climb. The six year old had her daddy wrapped around her fingers and it took little convincing for him to agree to carry her up the mountain. Unsatisfied with the view over his shoulder, she climbed atop them instead and tugged his crown from his head, messing the long silver strands of his hair.

“Careful, sweetheart, that’s sharp,” Aemond warned gently.

Selaena ignored him and placed the Valyrian steel crown over her head, but it quickly slipped down to her shoulders. “I’m going to be King of Scythe one day, just like mother.”

You smiled and shook your head as Aemond corrected her, “Your mother is Queen.”

Selaena narrowed her eyes at the horse and wagon setting the pace of the procession before pointing a finger at the silk wrapped body of your father. “But Grandsire was King and now he’s dead so she’s the King.”

“Men are Kings, women are Queens,” Aedira said from where she followed, her arm looped through Viserys’ as the reserved teen silently offered his support.

“That’s stupid,” Selaena huffed as she tugged the crown off and dropped it back on Aemond’s head a little off kilter. “When I am Queen I will change that.”

“Have you not been paying attention to your tutors?” Aemond asked softly. “There’s a line of succession passed down through the firstborn child.”

“But…” Selaena looked at her sister with tears in her eyes.

Aedira dropped her hold on Viserys and reached up for her sister’s hand. “I find the prospect of ruling one nation frightful, let alone two. My first declaration as Queen would be to place you upon the sister throne to my own.”

“What about Megaera?” you asked, intrigued by the proposition Aedira was navigating. “She might get jealous that she is left out.”

“The Dornish King had a son just last Fall, perhaps they will be a love match like you and father.”

Aemond choked on a laugh that he hid behind his hand. “Goodluck with that.”

“I haven’t even had the crown placed upon my head and they are plotting their own ascensions,” you said with a smile to your husband. “We might have to sleep in shifts lest a dagger finds its target.”

“I am an honourable fighter,” Aedira gasped in offence. “Cloak and dagger is not my style, I would challenge you to a duel.”

“That’s my girl,” Aemond chuffed proudly. “But I am the only one allowed to threaten your mother.”

“I would rather not be Queen anyway,” Aedira admitted as she looped her arm back through Viserys’ and rested her head on his shoulder. “Not if it means you and father are dead.”

“They could always abdicate,” Viserys said with his soft-spoken tone. “It’s rare, the last one being almost two centuries ago, but it has been done.”

The boy jogged your memory and you did remember reading that in the history books as a child. Some great-great-great-grandsire had ceded the throne to his son and become his advisor instead. It had been a peaceful rule from what you could recall, not a single war waged for the 60 years his son reigned. “I see you have spent your time in the royal library.”

“I find solace there.”

“I’m glad,” you said as you saw Aedira’s hand squeeze his with a smile. “Perhaps you will join us on our journey back to King’s Landing? Aedira seems more intent on learning the skill of the blade than the history of our nations.”

Viserys returned to his quiet, thoughtful state without giving an answer but you saw he took the offer to heart as he looked up to the weyr of dragons flying overhead.

“Fighting is more practical,” Aedira commented. “What use is history, it’s all just stuff that's already happened.”

“It serves to avoid making the same mistakes as our predecessors,” Aegon said from behind the group where he carried his daughter in his arms. “That which we do not want to repeat. You should come home, little brother, you have been away too long.”

Night had fallen when you reached the royal bethel at the peak, the journey taking longer than usual with rest stops taken when the pain became too much to bear. Jaehaera had taken to carrying Megaera when your body had weakened and Aedira left Viserys’ side to offer her strength as she wrapped her arm around your waist.

As High Matron, you performed the Final Rites for your father just as you had for Grammy, only this time you could not complete them. “I cannot draw the bow string,” you said as you handed the bow and quiver of arrows to your eldest child.

She took them with a wavering hand but you nodded reassuringly and her grip tightened. You held the bowl of oil as she dipped the arrow head in and then Aemond was there with the torch to ignite it.

Aedira drew the arrow back in the string until the bow bent with her strength and she took aim at the pyre that the King had been laid upon. “Dracarys!” she ordered Kileyxs who circled above as she let the arrow fly.

The arrow flew straight and true, igniting the pyre as Kilexys craned her neck and filled the sky with flames for her rider’s grandsire.

“Dracarys!”

The dragonriders surrounding you each honoured your father with towering pillars of flame that could be seen from across the nation and you almost collapsed as a wave of emotion hit you.

“Be strong,” Aemond murmured in your ear as he held you up. “You are not finished yet.”

He set you on your unsteady feet and reached for the circlet resting on your head. “Twelve years we have been breaking traditions, but this is big even for you. Are you sure?”

“This feels right,” you said with a nod and he lifted the diadem from your head. “Selaena, come here, my dear.”

Aedira grinned as her little sister skipped across the temple and stopped in front of you.

“For the one who loves these lands above all else, I name you, Selaena Targaryen, Heir of Scythe.”

Her violet eyes widened and she looked to her sister. “I already have a crown, that one belongs to you,” Aedira reassured her.

The Lords and Ladies of court gasped as they realised what you were doing but none protested after they saw Aemond place his hand on his sword and the promise of violence on his smirk. The circlet was a little too big but with the braids styled around her white hair it draped elegantly across her head.

It was Ferra the Soothsayer, who you had chosen as your Second to lead the Blood Witches in your absence, that appeared with a velvet cushion in her hands and the crown your mother wore resting upon it. You dropped to your knees and you were glad to feel the sharp stones beneath you, knowing your legs were struggling to hold you afoot.

“Allow me the honour, my queen,” Aemond said quietly as his voice thickened in his throat and he held the large diamond encrusted crown above your head. “This crown changes nothing, you were always my equal.”

The heavy weight of the crown settled on your head and you felt it bear down on your shoulders as Ferra placed the empty cushion on the table that held two small clay pots. Her lithe fingers dipped into the first and the oil glistened in the firelight before she brushed it over your brow and blessed your reign with good health. She took the second bowl and dipped her fingers in, coming away black with the ash of an ancient oak tree, as she recited the words as old as the tree itself.

“With the ash of the First Oak that grew in the heart of Scythe, we remember that though what we loved has gone, the memory is ours to keep alive.” Your eyes closed as ash fell from your brow where she smeared it and you held your breath for the final declaration. “The King is dead, long live the Queen.”

The chant was echoed by the thousands down the mountainside and you felt the title settle deep in your bones.

“Rise, Queen Y/N, the First of Her Name, Queen of Scythe, and of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.”

The gems embedded in the silver and crown reflected in the firelight and sent a cascade of colour around the temple as you rose to your feet with Aemond’s help. Turning, you faced your people for the first time as their Queen and for the first time the reality no longer brought you dread. You would make your family proud, both the living and the dead. That was your promise as you touched the sapphire hanging around your neck and felt the edges cut your palm.

Click here for the Epilogue.

Taglist: @hopebaker , @xcharlottemikaelsonx , @eddiemunson17 , @ninjabritches , @solacestyles , @hideing , @missusnora , @marrianena , @jonsncws , @dudfahsn , @queenofterrasen418 , @naeviahope , @averagethottie , @evilcherries , @delusionsofnostalgia , @le-who-zer-her , @readsalot73 , @thewew , @m-indkiller , @blackundertaker , @insxgtt , @adoringanakin , @dark-night-sky-99 , @hiatuswhore

#aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond imagine #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic

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whereimfeminine · 7 years ago

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I’m a very mood-driven music listener, like I always think about how I’m feeling and decide what I want to listen to that day. This morning when I was trying to figure out what I wanted to listen to, I couldn’t quite figure out how I was feeling, so I just automatically went to put on Harry’s album. And it made me realize that I think that’s what’s so special about his album. He captures such a range of feelings and emotions and moods with it, you can’t quite pin it down to *one* thing. It’s just like a comfort album, it always feels right to listen to whatever I’m feeling like that day, like my favorite meal or something. And it’s rare to find something like that in music.

#im sRY THIS IS SO SAPPY #but i was rly deep in my feels on it this morign #and then all this grammy talk got me deeper????

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buckysimp101 · 2 years ago

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Love at First Grade (18+) - 10

Single Dad!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader; Teacher!Bucky x CEO!Reader

chapter warnings: fluff (it’s a warning okay!)

Series Masterlist

The rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful for Bucky and his family. Bex grilled him the second YN and Avery left and Becca was occupied with Winnie. “Okay first of all, fucking rude of you to make me find out your girlfriend is the hottest CEO in the nation!” Bex whisper yelled at Bucky and before Bucky could even correct her that you technically weren’t his girlfriend she added, “i had to find out from STEVE ROGERS when he showed up after mom couldn’t get a hold of you!” Steve. Of course it was fucking Steve.

“Punk really needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut,” Bucky grumbled, not looking at Bex because he knew those Barnes Blues would be glaring a hole into him.

“Look, nobody else knows. We haven’t had the ‘what are we’ conversation, Bex. We’re just dating, hooking up, there’s definitely more we just haven’t talked about it. And the girls don’t know and neither does mom so PLEASE I am begging you not to bring it up again,” Bucky responded to his sister’s wondering gaze. Her eyes softened and Bucky knew she was reading into the situation a lot deeper than what she’d heard.

Bex patted Bucky on the shoulder and said, “fine you have my word, Bucko. But I expect all the sordid…well…maybe not ALL the sordid details you are met brother, but I expect to hear all about the two of you and how you met and what led to you sneaking around whenever you’re ready to talk about this.” Bucky nodded at his sisters request and the two siblings rejoined Becca and their mom, where Becca was talking about how excited she was to give Avery her birthday present tomorrow and how she couldn’t wait to meet Avery’s Grammy and Grumps.

Saturday passed quicker than Bucky would’ve liked if he was being honest with himself and as Sunday dragged closer and closer to 5:00 he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. As Bucky and Becca pulled up to your complex he could hardly hear his six year old chattering about how she wore her favorite shirt today just for Avery and how Avery was going to love her gift.

“Daddyyyyyy, let’s gooooooo. I wanna see Avery!” Becca squealed as she struggled with her car seat buckles, feet kicking and squirming and Bucky knew if he didn’t help her out soon she’d be heading to the elevator herself.

“Alright, squirt calm down. Remember what I told you, you’re to be on your best behavior while we’re here for Ms. Y/N and for Avery’s Grammy and Grumps, okay?” Bucky questioned Becca seriously, her blue eyes growing wide with excitement as she nodded her head furiously. Those brown curls bouncing with every nod. Good enough, Bucky thought to himself, and helped Becca out of her seat. Becca loved coming to your place on her playdates with Avery, mainly because of all the new toys she got to play with that they didn’t have at home. The whole elevator ride Bucky was anxiously tapping his leg with his hand, still not doing a great job of paying attention to Becca’s chattering. When the elevator stopped at your floor, Bucky took in a deep breath and made the short walk to your door. He went to knock but stopped short of making contact with the wood. Another deep breath and Bucky was about to do it this time, but he was beat by Becca knocking excitedly on the door in his place. His eyes shot down at Becca, hers looking into his as if to say “you were taking too long.” He was about to talk to her when you opened the door.

You were gorgeous. Not that you weren’t always gorgeous, Bucky knew he had hit the jackpot with you, but seeing you in more casual clothing reminded him of that night at Obsidian. This time you were wearing a sweater that seemed to emphasize the color of your eyes and looked softer than anything else Bucky had ever seen, jeans that hugged you in all the right places, and chunky boots. Neither of you said anything, both of you making eye contact for about ten seconds, before Becca was flinging herself at your legs with a deep hug. The eye contact broke and you looked down at Becca was an amused look on your face. You swept the girl up into a hug and told her how excited you were to have her here for Avery’s birthday. Becca leaned into the hug and gave you a big kiss on the cheek, the affection startling both you and Bucky for a moment, before a soft look crossed your face, one that Bucky only every truly saw when you were with Avery.

That’s it, I’ve died and gone to Heaven. And Heaven suspiciously looks at lot like Y/N’s apartment.

The moment was broken soon after by Avery’s voice calling from deeper in the apartment asking where her mom was and another voice answering that you had gone to answer the door. Bucky finally stepped into your apartment, the coziness that he felt in this place always made him feel at home, and he took a deep breath as he closed the door behind him and the three of you made your way to family room with Becca on your hip and Bucky at your side.

The second Becca laid eyes on Avery playing with a woman who looked so much like you, she was squirming to get down while trying her best not to kick you in the process. You understood that signal and chuckled lightly as you let the squirming six year old go play with her best friend. Avery and Becca let out loud squeals as they hugged each other and you and Bucky took that chance to make eye contact with each other. Bucky wasn’t a mind reader, and he was fairly certain you weren’t either, but in that moment he knew what you both were thinking. You were both thinking about how lucky your girls were to know each other. Your gazing was cut off by a throat clearing from behind you. A man entered the room and if Bucky thought your mother looked like you then your father was your twin.

Maybe Y/N was right…the universe really did make girls look like their dads, Bucky thought to himself before your father was approaching him, hand outstretched, for an introduction.

“Dad, this is Bucky Barnes, Becca’s dad. Bucky, this is my dad F/N L/N,” you started the introductions, your mother soon joining the group.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. L/N,” Bucky stated as he moved Avery’s gift to his other hand and reached his hand out to shake your father’s hand but your dad just shrugged him off by saying, “Ah just F/N is fine. I haven’t been Mr. L/N since I retired.” The two dads laughed at the joke and shook on it. Your mother appraised Bucky with a raised eyebrow, almost as if she had seen the whole “gazing into each other’s eyes” situation that had just happened moments ago.

“And this is my mother, M/N L/N, mom this is Bucky, Becca’s dad and Avery’s teacher,” you continued, obviously ignoring the overview she was giving Bucky. Bucky gulped, he thought it was subtle but obviously your mother could read him like a book, because she merely raised an eyebrow with the corner of her mouth quirking into a small grin as the two introduced each other. You offered to take Avery’s gift from Bucky to free up his hands and the timing was perfect. Avery finally took notice of Bucky’s presence after peeling away from Becca’s koala grip and her face burst into a large smile as she took off, as fast as her little legs would take her, and jumped into Bucky’s arms.

“Hey kiddo, happy birthday! Seven years old, wow you’re getting old!” He joked with a tight squeeze that Avery was quick to return along with a little giggle. If Bucky had been facing you he would’ve seen that same soft look on your face that he’d seen earlier when you held Becca. If he’d been facing your mother he would’ve noticed her eyebrows disappearing into her hairline. Bucky was secretly glad his attention was on Avery at that moment and not the two of you.

“Is that for me, mommy!?” Avery squealed as she caught sight of the large birthday gift-wrapped box in your hands. You chuckled and nodded your head and of course the seven year old wanted to open her gift immediately but you put a stop to it and told her dinner first and then she could open all her gifts. Dinner went by smoothly, thought Bucky kept finding his glances lingering in your direction, occasionally he’d catch your stare on him with your lips upturned into a small grin. All this to say, his attention to you and your attention to him may have caught someone else’s eye.

When Avery finally opened her gifts, including the large stuffed pink and purple unicorn that Becca had begged him to let her get for Avery the second she saw it because, “it’s pink AND purple, daddy! That’s my favorite color AND Avery’s! And it’s a unicorn!!” All said as if it was the most obvious gift ever. Obviously Becca knew her best friend because Avery had engulfed her in a hug that had almost brought tears to Bucky’s eyes. He considered himself lucky that he had watched their friendship grow over the last couple of months and that he’d seen Avery grow out of her shell in that short period of time. When you finally called for cake the girls took off to the kitchen where the group began to sing Happy Birthday, Avery sat at the counter beaming as she waited to blow out her candles to everyone’s applause. You began to cut the cake, which Bucky offered to help with but you kindly stopped him and told him to grab a drink and sit down for once offering a wink and a slight shove to the family room as the girls went on and on about what flavor ice cream they wanted.

Bucky sat on the chair in the main room, your mother waiting on the couch across from him for your father to return and she gave Bucky a little nod of acknowledgment as he sat down. The silence was bordering on the territory of awkward and all Bucky could do was pay attention to the drink in his hand. That is before your mother questioned, “Becca really seems to enjoy vanilla ice cream, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor, James?”

“Oh I really like chocolate, but vanilla’s a classic,” Bucky answered the question almost automatically as he brought his drink to his lips before realizing what he’d just unintentionally given away. It took all Bucky had in him not to do a spit take as he realized what he’d done, His eyes grew wide as he made brief eye contact with your mother, a knowing smile appearing on her face and Bucky realized he was trapped.

“So is James your first name or has my daughter been lying to me about everything,” she questioned teasingly.

Bucky’s attention was firmly on his drink as he knew he couldn’t look at your mother as he attempted to not mumble but clearly state, “yes ma’am. Bucky’s my nickname, James is my given.”

Your mother nodded her head at Bucky’s answer before questioning him once more, “so what’s going on with you and my daughter that has her leaving out the fact that “James” is Bucky and also Avery’s teacher, hmm?” Bucky didn’t know how to answer that without throwing you under the bus.

Whatthefuck ohshitohshitohshit, how do I tell her mom “idk what we are, we haven’t talked about it”!?!?!?!

Your mother must have sensed his dilemma because her eyes softened at the grown man freaking out in front of her as if he were a teenage boy all over again. So she took in a breath and told him, “I know my daughter. I know when she is well and truly happy and I have only seen that since Avery came into her life. When that doorbell rang? She looked like a child on Christmas morning all over again.”

Bucky’s eyes flitted up to your mother’s, that knowing smirk on her face growing more as she continued, “I always joked that Avery was the best Christmas present my daughter could have ever received, since she always did love the holiday. Who knows, maybe this year she’ll receive another gift just as good.”

The approval that Bucky felt from your mother’s statement warmed his heart. He’d never felt this way over anyone else, not even Dot, and just hearing the way you had reacted when you knew it was him at the door made him realize he didn’t want to keep hiding. He wanted you and he wanted all your family and friends to know it. He was about to finally answer when you walked in the room, your mere presence causing Bucky to shut his agape mouth real fast. Your mother snickered at his reaction and stood up to grab another drink, leaving you and Bucky in the family room together as the girls played with your dad, who had gotten roped into playing horsey.

“Mmm, I smell trouble. It was suspiciously quiet in here with my mom, everything okay?” you questioned as you approached Bucky, looking around to see if you’d be caught, before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Bucky hummed into the kiss and wrapped his arms around you to pull you into a hug.

“If by okay you mean that your mom smelled a rat the second I walked in this apartment and managed to call me out immediately, then yeah sure everything’s peachy,” Bucky joked, your eyes growing comically as you took in what he was saying. He chuckled at your expression and just pulled you closer to him.

“What’d you say? What’d SHE say?” You questioned and Bucky knew you were freaking out so he recapped the entire, albeit mostly one-sided, conversation he’d just had with your mother. You let out a breath, obviously hoping to have kept this under wraps for a little while longer. But Bucky took his chance.

“You know, she mentioned how you lit up when you knew it was me at the door and how you’ve been more happy than she’s seen in a long time…but you’re not the only one that’s been affected by..whatever this is,” Bucky stated as he waved his hands around the pair of you for emphasis. You opened your mouth to argue but Bucky cut you off, “shh, honey I’ve got something I need to say. I swear every time I know you’re coming over…I could have a week’s notice but when I hear that ‘shave and a haircut’ knock on my door my day brightens instantly. When we started this we wanted to go slow, and figure it out while dating casually, and these last three, almost four, months have been some of the best that I’ve had.”

Your eyes glimmered with unshed tears as you looked at Bucky, you sniffled slightly to hold them back, so Bucky took that as his cue, “I don’t wanna hide anymore, sweetheart. I want our families and friends to know about his, hell I’d shout it from the rooftops if I could. What d’ya say, baby? Wanna be my girl?”

That was it. That must have shocked you into action because you whispered a breathy, “yes,” prior to seizing Bucky’s lips in a heated kiss, a surprised grunt falling from his lips before he let himself go into the kiss. It was cut off short by twin screams and a man’s throat clearing before the two of you remembered where you were…in the family room of your penthouse apartment…with both girls and your parents around.

“Guess the cat’s out of the bag now, huh?” you muttered against Bucky’s lips that were slowly turning into the largest grin he could muster. The girls took off away from your dad and ran up to you and Bucky, their voices melding together as they asked a million questions. The questions were endless and each one was equally as ridiculous as the last and it ended with you and Bucky laughing as each other girls attempted to crawl into your arms and get you to spill about your undying love, another topic that you hadn’t even talked about.

“Why were you kissing Mr. Bucky?” “Why were you kissing Ms. Y/N?” “Do you two love each other?” “Are you two going to get married like Cinderella and Prince Charming?” “Were you trying to turn him into a frog!?” “Boys have cooties, mommy!”

Your mom and dad stood in the corner, knowing smiles on both their mouths as your mother stuck out her hand in his direction, your father grumbling as he slipped a twenty into her hand.

As the night wound up, your parents left the four of you to talk with the girls about your relationship and how the two of you had gone on a couple dates and that you really liked each other and would all be hanging out a lot more now. Their excited squeals echoed over the room, neither truly understanding what it was you were telling them, but both of them equally excited. As the girls ran to say their final goodbyes, you and Bucky walked to the front door hand in hand. He wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled you to him in what was supposed to be another brief kiss, but as the girls voices sounded from Avery’s bedroom you pushed your luck and deepened the kiss briefly. When you broke apart you stated, “well…that went easier and better than expected.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh and cupped your cheek as he responded, “it really did…now all we have to do is tell my ma…but judging by the way your parents already seemed to know…I’m willing to bet mine is just waiting for me to tell her too.”

As a mother you knew what he was talking about. That parental sense of just knowing that something had changed in your child’s life. The idea that both of your parents had been able to pretend like they knew nothing about your relationship was amusing to you both.

“I’m regretting not getting you a Christmas present now, especially since I’ve just been made aware that it’s your favorite holiday,” Bucky whispered against your lips as he kissed you, swallowing your laugh.

“Mmm, I think this is a pretty good gift don’t you?” You questioned with one eyebrow raised, a teasing smirk taking over your lips as the girls returned for Becca and Bucky to leave.

Bucky couldn’t agree more.

taglist (to be added just let me know, if there’s an * next to a tag it’s because tumblr won’t let me tag):

@youlightmeupfinn

@la-undercover-latina

@jackiehollanderr

@fab-notfat

@galaxy-dusk

@asoftie4bucky

@fangirlvoice

@queenbeecandi

@babyevansblog

@stevihj

@sherlockstrangewolf

@notavintagecliche

@justsomebodyweird*

@katiecg

@wintasssoldier

@snufflet

@buckrecs

@missvelvetsstuff

@selluequestrian

@dhoruwolfie

@winters1917

#buckysimp101 #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #single dad bucky x single mom reader #teacher!bucky x ceo!reader #bucky as a teacher and a single dad? all i ever wanted #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes fanfiction #love at first grade fic

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sugar-petals · 3 years ago

Note

can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house.

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like.

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine.

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship.

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like.

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that.

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same.

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket.

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching.

#yoongi #yoongi hc #yoongi x reader #bts #bts x reader #bts hc #yoongi scenario

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caravelmp3 · 3 years ago

Text

UNDER THE CANYON MOON

pairing: josh kiszka x female!reader warning(s): mostly fluff, just brief mentions of alcohol and sex word(s): 2k note: hi hi hi !! this is just a little something i wrote up the last couple of days with the inspiration of light my love, canyon moon by harry styles, and the interview where josh talked about road-tripping the u.s. last summer <3 i don’t write one shots often but let me know what you all think bc i might shuffle some more out soon lol. hope you all enjoy !! :)

The Los Angeles sun was hot, beating down onto the city basking in its late-summer hues. You parked your car on the street in Silver Lake and carried a bag of food and drink tray to the door of a recording studio, more than prepared to be swarmed by hungry boys who had been cooped up in the studio since five a.m. on the dot that morning. They had a breakthrough the night before with a new song, and after getting home and going to bed for a few hours, the creative juices started flowing again and they were back in the booth.

A windchime on the door sang as you pulled the door open and walked inside, greeting their manager who was at a table by the door.

“The boys here?”

“Down the hall,” he nodded, pointing a finger in the direction of the hallway. “They’re more rowdy than usual so be prepared,”

You laughed and turned down the hall, walking towards the studio. The walls were decorated with memorabilia of rock and roll greats and record plaques, and among them, you spotted a picture of the four boys with their Grammy award. It seemed like time had passed so quickly. They won the award for the first album and they were already working on their third, shooting them further into stardom.

“Coffee’s here!” You shouted in a really bad New England accent when you noticed the recording light was flipped off above the door.

You stepped into the room to a chorus of cheers and “thank god you're here”’s that made you laugh while sitting the food and drinks down on the table and they all rushed over. You handed out the specific orders and pointed to which drinks was theirs when they got handsy and tried to grab everything from her out of both excitement and some desperation for caffeine.

“Our savior,” Jake said, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders to give them a gentle shake before taking the coffee you were holding out to him, and then you handed Danny’s to him, too.

“Just the coffee girl here,”

“Well, you’re a little bit more than that,” Josh said, walking over to the table to grab his full cup.

You pressed a hand against the table, leaning over to him. “Just a little?”

“A little bit,” he shot you a wink before swiftly pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You were more than just a “little more” than the coffee girl, you were typically their designated drunk driver, the one who took all of their candid photos, the mediator in times of need, and well, the girlfriend of the lead singer, too.

Everyone in the studio took their food and drinks and scattered among the seating area in a break from recording. Instead of one tiny room with all of them cramped together, they had a wide open space with booths for the different instruments and bean bag chairs and big comfy, velvet sofas, and there was dim lighting with deep toned rugs that gave off the vibe of a more relaxed feel rather than the fluorescent-light, tiled-floor feeling that made them feel rushed and confined by rules they didn’t set themselves.

You liked the studio, too, and often took naps on the sofa while listening to them play instruments individually in the recording booths and while they were writing. One night they had found you at two a.m., bundled up with a blanket on the bean bag chair after they spent the night writing in the front room on the piano, but it wasn’t the first time as you often napped in their Nashville recording offices, too.

“You guys been busy today?” You asked jokingly while lowering onto the sofa armrest, receiving nothing but glares shot in your direction. “Okay, okay, touchy subject,”

With a mouthful of bread, Sam pointed to Josh, “Josh finished a song, didn’t you?” He was grinning.

You hummed in joy and surprise, grabbing Josh’s knee as he sat next to you. “Really?”

It had been a rough few days for all of them as they tried to shuffle out a few more additions to the new album. It felt incomplete with something missing, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on what it was exactly, so they attempted to bring back and revamp old songs, write and record new ones, but nothing seemed to stick, until now.

“Yeah, wanted to wait and show you later, but someone can’t keep his trap shut.” Josh said, pretending to be serious before cracking a smile and taking a sip of his coffee. “Just wanted it to be a surprise,”

“Well it can still be a surprise, I’m surprised now,” you said. “Can I hear it? Or read what you got?”

Josh nodded and stood, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him. There was a little recording room fit with a piano inside, his writing journal placed on the music stand where he had scribbled notes and keys and melodies in pen. He picked it up and handed it to you.

“Nothing seemed to click until last night, when I started putting it together.” He said.

“Is that why you wouldn’t tell me what it was when you all got back to the house?”

Josh shrugged, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, yeah, I wanted it to be special when you first heard it.”

You sat the coffee cup down onto the floor while lowering into the small chair in the corner, holding the journal like it was the most delicate piece of art in the world. In silence, while Josh watched on anxiously, you read the words he had splayed across the blank page.

Can you light my love? Flames glowing bright as the sun Deeper than oceans you run Watch as our world has begun

Your mind is a stream of colors Extending beyond our sky A land of infinite wonders A billion lightyears from here now

You felt your throat tighten, tears tempted your eyes.

It was a love song.

“Josh-”

“Oh god you hate it don’t you, you dread it, despise it,”

“Oh shut up, I’m in tears right now, you know I love it.” You looked up at him with a smile and a sniffle.

His words across the page were sloppy, some cursive, written in different pens of different colors, some lines crossed and scribbled out, others underlined.

“Your mind is something I will never fully understand.” You told him as he sat down on the chair next to you. “How the fuck did you come up with this-”

“I was thinking about our trip out here, the week we spent driving out and all of the stuff we did… and how I think I fell more in love with you.” His voice softened.

You reached out, placing your arm on his shoulder, fingers playing with his curls. “I can’t put it into words how much I love it, how much I love you,” you said, “and you make me sound so lovely when in reality I know I was a pain in the ass that entire trip.”

“Yeah, but my pain in the ass,” he kissed the inside of your arm.

Two weeks before the boys left Nashville to head to Los Angeles, Josh called you at midnight with an idea in mind – the two of you renting a camper to drive out to L.A., falling into all of the tourist traps along the way and stopping in random small towns to sleep while exploring the in between, which would definitely beat the boring four-hour flight. And you, half asleep and across the country, agreed.

It would be fun. Right?

And it was. Every time someone asked how it went, you called it “the most magical week of my life.”

While the others waited behind for their flights the next week, you and Josh set off from Nashville, heading west with only the destination in mind and a trusty map in hand. Everything else just came to you both.

The first stop was three hours in the trip, in Memphis. You and Josh roamed Graceland on Elvis Presley Boulevard and had lunch near Sun Studio before taking in the mementos and relics at the Blues Hall of Fame where Josh talked your ear off, rattling off more details about each band and singer than was on the info-cards on the wall.

Then it was two hours to Little Rock, falling asleep in the back of the camper after a take-out dinner outside of a random supermarket. Sitting in lawn chairs in the middle of a parking lot, you held Josh’s hand under a blanket and watched the pink sunrise over the hills, and then it was back on the road again.

From Oklahoma City to Amarillo, you fiddled with the map when Josh got lost after a wrong turn in a small town where he insisted on seeing the giant 66-foot LED soda bottle sculpture, and in the middle of northern Texas, he made it up to you by cooking your favorite dinner. You thanked him in a quiet whisper as you crawled into the bed with him that night, sliding under the covers where he greeted you with warm hands and kisses against your neck that made you squeal with the tickle of his mustache and he grinned against your lips.

Josh got to choose the music all the way through New Mexico – Neil Young and Crazy Horse to John Denver’s Thank God I’m A Country Boy, and you were only able to squeeze in Joan Baez every hour when you stopped to stretch your legs on the side of the road, belting the words to him while he laughed at your voice cracks.

And after you both pitched the tent in the Petrified Forest in Arizona, Josh hummed the tune to some new song while you two sat under the midnight stars in the canyon with a roaring fire, his arm around you, his sweatshirt draped over your shoulders. When he tried to start telling you a scary story after you heard a weird noise outside the tent, you blindly hit him in the dark and accidentally hit his nose, causing you both to burst into laughter after the initial panic left. He laughed loudly into your shoulder as you held his face in shock, catching the scent of your lavender lotion, and his body relaxed when the laughter died down, feeling so at peace in his life with you there.

It was the tail end of the trip, but the excitement hadn’t died down yet. After showers in the camper in the middle-of-nowhere-Arizona and five hours west, you and Josh found a bar outside of Las Vegas that resembled Coyote Ugly, so you both had a round of tequila sodas and margaritas before walking around the small town that evening and sleeping off the tipsy-headaches in the air conditioning. On top of the covers, you looked at Josh napping in the sunshine, cheeks flushed red, curls poofy from the wind, and you felt your heart grow in your chest before falling asleep next to him.

And then came Los Angeles, the final stop, the dreaded one. But you and Josh didn’t tell anyone that either of you were sad to be back with them in L.A. when they asked, and instead, you two smiled and hugged everyone after piling out of the camper in the drive-way of the Silver Lake house.

Cleaning out the camper, tossing cheesy novelty t-shirts at each other and laughing at how many socks you two managed to lose along the way and how many bug bites were added, watching the developed clips Josh had filmed of scenes in the desert and you asleep in the passenger seat, you both were nostalgic about a trip that just ended.

It was so easy, so freeing to just be together on the road, with only the destination in mind. It revealed a part of them that the other didn’t see often, like your tendencies to get your lefts and rights mixed up while giving directions, and Josh’s equally awful sense of direction didn’t exactly pair with the fact that he was a maniac while driving in the first place.

But those parts were just added to the long list of why you and him loved each other in the first place. So you became the designated driver after Amarillo and Josh stuck to telling you “left or right” for the rest of the time. It was a compromise, another reason why you two worked so well together.

It was a form of love in itself.

“We’ll have to drive all the way back to Nashville then, so you can write more songs about me.” You teased.

Josh rolled his eyes but cracked into a grin a second later. “Let’s not get too carried away,” but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t always mentally reliving the night under the canyon moon.

#gvf imagine #greta van fleet imagine #gvf #gvf one shot #greta van fleet one shot #gvf fanfic #greta van fleet fanfic #josh kiszka imagine #josh kiszka one shot #josh kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet

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bluewhale52 · 4 years ago

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Little Black Book: The One You Had a Crush On

Summary: There are a few names in your Little Black Book, and these seven hold a special place in your heart. Now that you are closing that chapter in your life, you reminisce the time and experience you have had with your seven favourite men, especially with Kim Taehyung, the one you had a crush on.

Pairing: Taehyung x female reader

Rating: EXPLICIT. No minors allowed.

Genre: nonidol!au, strangers to lovers, friends with benefit

WC: 6.4k

Warning: big dick Tae, oral (m & f), fingering, protected sex, ass slapping, hair pulling, a bit of exhibitionist kink, OC is greedy for Tae’s third leg, 69, facial, talk about threesome but no threesome act, a bit of begging, Grammy 2020 Tae for reference.

A/N: Cameo from the Wooga squad, though only Seojoon has speaking line in this one, we see Yoongi again briefly, mystery boyfriend finally makes an appearance (though we all know who he is by now). I can’t believe I wrote so much smut for Tae in this one. Hope you enjoy this chapter! And always, likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 💜

Series Masterlist: Little Black Book

You should be embarrassed at how loud your stomach growled but you were too exhausted to care. You murmured a ‘thank you’ as your order of Katsu Kimchi Nabe was placed on your table. You immediately dug in, closing your eyes in satisfaction at the first bite.

With your stomach in a better condition, you looked around. The small cramped space was half full, it was way past lunch time anyway. The little katsu place was a hole in the wall, but the food was homely and delicious. And its location, just a block away from your office, hidden in an alley, was perfect. It was a good getaway place when things got a bit too much.

Your eyes caught a couple of men sitting just next to your table. You noticed the EMS uniform first, and when your eyes travelled up to their faces, you had to look away. You had encountered handsome men- Seokjin for one, Hoseok another- but these two took your breath away.

Perhaps feeling your eyes on them, the one with the curly hair turned to you and smiled. “Came here often?” He asked.

His partner burst out laughing. “That is such a cheesy line. I apologise for him.”

Curly hair pouted playfully. “I’m just making conversations, hyung. And we all should come here often because the food is so good!”

You laughed and gestured to your meal. “It is good. Can never go wrong with this. Are you both paramedics?”

The two men smiled. “Yes,” curly haired answered, “we’re on our lunch break. And yourself? What do you do? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

You shook your head. “Not at all. I’m an attorney. My office is just around the block.” You took out your business card and handed it to Curly Hair. “In case you need legal advice.”

Curly Hair took your card. “Miss ______, very nice to meet you. I’m Kim Taehyung, and this is Park Seojoon.” Curly Hair- Taehyung- looked playfully at you. “You know, you can just ask me for my number and I’ll gladly give it to you.”

You scoffed at his remark, and his partner chided him in mock annoyance. “You’re such a shameless flirt.”

Taehyung winked at you. “I’ll give you my card in return. Hang on.” He reached into his pocket and took out a scrap of paper. He scribbled on it and gave it to you.

“Wooga Band. Wednesday 7pm.” You raised an eyebrow at the name of the club and the address he had written underneath. It was a little bar near your university. You wondered if Taehyung was a fellow alumnus.

“That’s us. And a couple more of my hyungs. Come see us play.” Taehyung invited. “We play till 9, then maybe I can take you to my favorite katsu place.”

You snickered at his flirting. The older paramedic piped in, “We’re not that bad, seriously. Come check us out.”

You folded the piece of paper and slid it into a slot on your phone cover. “Well, let’s hope work won’t hold me back from seeing you guys play.” You had checked your built-in calendar in your brain, you were free on Wednesday. But there was no need for them to know that.

The two men finished their meals and were preparing to leave. You looked questioningly at Taehyung. “You’re not going to give me your number?”

He grinned. “Nope. Come see us on Wednesday and I’ll give it to you.”

~~~

You actually enjoyed Wooga Band’s performance. You were pleasantly surprised at Taehyung’s husky voice, and how well it fit the jazz melody. You also did not expect the effect his voice had on you. When you turned down his invitation for supper, he frowned a little. But he quickly brightened up when you offered a better alternative- his or your place.

“Let’s go to yours.” He chose. “I’m still off tomorrow but you have to work. I can just take a taxi home.”

You felt warm at his consideration. Even warmer when he stole kisses in the cab ride to your place. And more so when he cornered you in the elevator, his lips all over your jawline and his hands roaming across your middle. Arriving at your floor, you pulled him towards your apartment, and once inside, you slammed him against your door.

He moaned as you attacked his lips with yours, and pressing your body close to his, you felt his erection on your belly. Your hands went down to cup him, and he groaned into your mouth,

“So impatient, darling.” He tilted your head to gain access to your neck. You gasped when his tongue slid along your skin, but he was right, you were impatient. You knelt before him, your hands working to undo his pants, pulling them down, followed by his boxers.

You gulped when his cock sprung free. He was big and long, and your sex began throbbing at the sight. You tried wrapping your fingers around his shaft. Oh boy, you swallowed hard, you hoped you could wake up the next day.

You started with kisses on the head and along his length, then you gave shallow sucks, slowly but surely taking him in centimetre by centimetre. Your hand stroked the length that your mouth could not reach, with your saliva acting as a lubricant. You shifted on your knees, finding a more comfortable position, knowing you would need to take your time to take all of him in.

His fingers were in your hair, tugging and pulling it in sync with the groans escaping his mouth. You looked up at him as his cocked entered deeper and deeper, until it hit the back of your throat. You controlled your gag reflex, then prepared to pull out but his hand was holding your head in place.

“Can I fuck your mouth, darling?”

You nodded as much as you could. He moved lazily at first, but soon he got greedy. The grip in your hair was tighter, and you had to close your eyes when his hips picked up the pace. Your mouth ached, you were drooling all over the cock pistoning your mouth, but you felt delirious having given control to the man before you. Your pussy was leaking too, eager to be stretched.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Taehyung fucked your throat faster. “Open your eyes, darling.”

You mewled around his cock as you forced yourself to look up at him. He cursed again, and slammed his hips forward one last time and made your mouth cockwarm him. You gargled around him, fighting the intrusion.

“Relax, darling. You can take it, can’t you?” You pressed your tongue up against his shaft. “Good girl.”

He let go of your hair, and his fingers gently caressed your cheeks. “Such a good girl for my cock.” You whined desperately.

Chuckling, he pulled himself out, and you panted for air. He helped you up, but as soon as you were on your feet, he turned you around so it was your back against the door. He hiked your skirt up and licked his lips at the sight of your thigh-high stockings.

“I want to eat you out, but I think I’ll explode if I don’t fuck you now.”

“Then fuck me.”

He chuckled. “You want me to fuck you here? Where your passing neighbors can hear?” He tugged your panties down, tutting at the arousal that had already pooled there. He brought the fabric to his mouth and sucked greedily. You keened at the sight.

He tossed your soiled underwear over his shoulder. “You taste so fucking good. And so fucking wet.” His fingers were prodding your pussy lips. Watching you, he inserted a finger in, and then another. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“Want your cock, Taehyung.”

“Gotta stretch you, darling.” He smiled as the pout on your face changed when he added a third finger.

You writhed your hips, wanting more. “Please, fuck me.”

He spread his fingers in you, wincing at how tight you were. He fingered you a bit more, then he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty.

“Tae…”

“Finger yourself, darling.” He instructed as he dug around the pocket of his pants for a condom. “Get yourself ready for me.” You did as he asked. Your two fingers felt like nothing compared to his thick long digits, and you made your complaint clear to him. He chuckled again as he rolled the rubber over himself. Then he grabbed your hand and brought your fingers to his mouth. Your breath hitched as he sucked them clean.

“I’m going to eat you out before I leave.” He promised.

He turned you around, so you faced the door. When one of his large hands held your hip, you held your breath. You felt the head of his cock entering you, and it felt so tight already. You moaned out as the head was finally in, and you yelped when he thrusted himself into you without warning.

He rubbed your hips and your back, soothing you, giving you time to adjust. But goddamn- how could you adjust? You felt too full, you did not think you had ever been stretched this much before. You controlled your breathing, relaxing yourself and the pain quickly turned to pleasure. Your walls were not fighting the intrusion anymore, they were clenching almost rhythmically now around his cock. So you wiggled your hips, encouraging him to move.

He obliged immediately. He pulled himself out slowly, before ramming back into you hard. Your moans got louder and your body was jerked forward with every thrust that soon your cheek was pressed against the door as Taehyung continued to fuck you hard.

“Come on, darling, you want your neighbours to hear, don’t you?” he egged you on, his hand travelled to the back of your neck. He fucked you harder now, holding your neck so you did not hit your face on the door. You mewled stupidly, and at a particular rough thrust, you screamed his name.

“That’s it. Let your neighbours know who’s fucking you.”

“Oh God, yes, Tae! Oh!” Your vocabulary was reduced to four words. He was going even faster and more roughly now, encouraging you to be louder too. Your thighs were starting to shake, and you tried to hold on to the door, your fingernails clawing at the laminated wood.

“Close, close…” you whimpered.

“I know darling, I can feel you tightening on me.” The fingers on your neck moved upwards to your hair. He yanked your head back, and his other hand smacked your ass again and again. You finally reached your peak. Screaming out his name, your body shook and you swore you saw white stars behind your closed lids.

Your pussy walls pulsated erratically around Taehyung’s cock, and he growled as he got nearer to his orgasm too. Once you had recovered from yours, you moved your hips backwards, meeting his halfway, and soon he came undone.You felt his cock twitch inside you, as he shot his seeds into the rubber. A few more sloppy thrusts followed, then he let go of your hair.

“Fuck, that was so hot.” He gasped. He pulled out gently, then took the condom off and tied it. He discarded it carelessly on the floor.

“God, I feel like such a groupie.” You felt like jelly splattered on the door.

He laughed as he helped you straighten up, massaging your hips and back gently. “Nah, you’re the first fan I fucked. You’re okay? I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He hugged you from behind.

You shook your head. “I’m OK. It was… hot. And really? You never hooked up with any of your fans?”

“Nope.” He rubbed your shoulders. “Just you. I like your vibe right from the beginning.”

“Wow, I’m so honoured. Though it is likely I’d have to move out after tonight.” You rested your head on his chest.

“Well, this place is a dump anyway.” You laughed at his comment, then squealed when he moved to carry you fireman style. “Where’s your bedroom? I promised to eat you out and I’d rather do it lying down.”

You did not think it possible, but your battered pussy instantly became wet again. He figured out anyway where your room was, and hurriedly took you there, leaving his and your clothes piled up by your apartment’s door.

~~~

You were entering dangerous territory. You did not like how you immediately smiled whenever you got a message from Taehyung, and how your smile widened when it was silly selcas he sent. You did not like how your heart beat faster when he said he wanted to meet up and how you took extra time choosing what to wear. The man was drop dead gorgeous and you were definitely flattered by the attention, but you were starting to feel this could very well become a one sided crush.

He never asked you out on a date. It was either ‘hey I just finished my shift, wanna hang out?’ or ‘Didn’t see you at the club tonight, are you free now?’. There were times you wished his questions were less of the Netflix-and-chill type. You supposed you could ask him out yourself, but you feared that possibility of rejection so much that you would rather settle for whatever it was you had with him. You could deal with it- it was simply controlling your emotions, and you could do that, you were trained to do that. You were safe as long as you did not let yourself lose control.

It was hard however, especially when he was cuddling you, with his lower half practically over your lap. It was one of the times when he wanted to just hangout, but you both knew where that would end up.

“You’re a clingy one, aren’t you?” You massaged Taehyung’s calves.

“Is it bad?” He settled himself further on your shoulder.

“No, just wondering how many other people you’re doing this with.”

He hummed. “I told you, it’s just you. I don’t do this with anyone else. I like spending time with you.”

“You mean you like having sex with me.”

“Well, the sex is great, but this is nice too.” He gestured at the TV and the snacks on the table.

“Because it always leads to sex.”

“Mind blowing sex.” He corrected.

There was no point torturing yourself, it was just sex. It was what you wanted, wasn’t it? Ms Workaholic Climbing up the Ladder had no time for relationships. That was your number one rule with your men, that was the very first thing you declared to them to avoid any misunderstanding. So, stick with it, you scolded yourself.

Taehyung frowned at your silence. “What’s wrong, darling?” He tilted your chin so you would face him.

You shook your head gently. “Nothing.” You whispered.

He nuzzled your neck. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.” You could not help yourself but shudder when his breath fanned against your sensitive spots.

“What do you want, darling?” He prodded.

I want a lot of things from you, you wanted to say, but instead, you simply answered, “I want you.”

“How do you want me?” His hand moved to cup your breast, thumb rubbing over your clothes until your nipple stiffened from his touch. You bit your lower lip to hold back your moan. “How does my darling girl like it?”

“Oh.” you gasped when his mouth tugged your earlobe, at the same time he pinched your nipple. He chuckled, the low voice sent shivers down your spine and straight to your pussy.

He pinched your nipple again as he peppered your jawline with little kisses. “You like this?”

“Yeah.” You breathed out. Your body had gone numb. His legs were still across your lap, pinning you down on your sofa, as his large hand pressed against your breast, holding your body under his control.

“Taehyung…” you called out to him, your legs squirming, your pussy desperate for some friction.

He lifted his head to look at you. “Fuck, you look so desperate.” He smiled. “You want more?”

You nodded. “Yes, Tae, please.” You mewled shamelessly.

He leaned towards your ear, kissing and licking your earlobe, making you writhe further. “I’m going to fuck you on this couch, darling. I’m going to fuck you so good you’re gonna beg to cum. Would you like that?”

“Yes, yes…” You were starting to blatantly grind your hips under his legs. He chuckled.

“You’re gonna take my cock good, darling?” He tugged your nipple.

“Yes,” you whimpered, “I want it, Tae. Please.”

He moved slightly away from you and you nearly protested, until he pulled your top off. He stared at your lace- clad breasts hungrily. Licking his lips, he cupped them both.

“Tae, please. I want you to fuck me.” You arched your back to push your tits against his hands.

“I will, darling. You gonna take everything I give you?”

His voice had gone down several octaves, the baritone went straight to your center. You spread your legs unconsciously, you were getting more and more desperate for him.

“Yes, I’ll take it, Tae. I’ll take it all.”

And you meant every single word.

~~~

You had thought a few times to invite Yoongi to see Taehyung and his band perform. You had little musical knowledge- you had been listening to the same bands for the last five years- but you figured it was no harm to get the Wooga Band some exposure. You were hoping the music producer would find them good enough; you wanted to give that little hope to Taehyung and his friends.

The only reason you had not invited Yoongi so far was because you didn’t know what to do with two fuck buddies in one place at the same time. You knew if you showed up at the jazz club, Taehyung would want to go back to your place. You and Yoongi both knew where you stood, so you did not need to worry about any jealousy from his side if you went with Taehyung. But it still would be weird, you would be introducing one to the other and you had no idea what to expect.

You actually took extra care in your appearance that night. You wore your courtroom suit to work (which prompted everyone in the office to wish you luck for your court case when actually you had none), your heels (which you regretted slightly because your feet were aching), and most importantly, thigh high stockings and lacy bra and panties set (which Taehyung LOVED). You sighed. You kept telling yourself you did not wear this for anyone, it was for you, the combination made you feel confident and sexy. But who were you kidding?

Yoongi ended up cancelling on you, to your relief. You could barely focus on anything else but Taehyung. Taehyung, who took the stage in a loose black and white print shirt with matching bandana, paired with tight black pants. Taehyung, who smiled and winked at you as he sang about two ships passing in the night. Taehyung, who rushed to you once his band was done, as if he had not seen you in ages. You breathed in as he hugged you, the smell of lavender combined with his musky natural scent invaded you.

And Taehyung continued to fill all your senses that night, as you were riding him vigorously while sucking on his fingers sloppily. His hips rose up to meet you on every thrust, sending his cock deeper and deeper into you.

“Fuck, darling.” He smiled teasingly. “Look how good you are sucking my fingers.”

You answered by moaning against his digits and clenching your cunt around him.

“Ah, that’s right, keep sucking, darling.”

You grabbed his wrist to keep his hand in place. You kept taking his long fingers in, bobbing your head back and forth, eager to have your mouth filled. Your saliva dripped to his hand and down your chin. He hissed at the sight of you drooling.

Your hips were starting to lose your rhythm. Your thighs were getting tired, but you were getting closer to orgasm too. Your free hand snaked down to rub your clit, but Taehyung pushed it away.

“You’re gonna cum on my mouth.” He declared, yanking his fingers out which made you moan wantonly at the sudden emptiness in your mouth.

“God, you really love being filled, don’t you?” He rose up to kiss you, thrusting his hips up, impaling you as deep as he could. You grabbed onto his shoulders as your pussy walls clenched wildly around his cock.

“Tae,” you panted, “fuck, you feel so good in me.”

“I love stretching you, darling.” He whispered, his hands wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him. “69 with me?”

You whined.

“Hmm? You don’t want to suck my cock, darling?”

“I do, but then I’ll feel so empty.”

“So whiny and so needy.” He slapped your ass. “I’ll put four fingers in you, don’t worry.”

He pulled out and discarded his condom, chuckling as you continued to pout, then positioned himself in the middle of your bed. You moved to hover over his face, and his large hands gripped your hips to pull you down to his mouth. You moaned loudly as you felt his tongue swept over your puffy lips. He growled as he continued to lick you, collecting your arousal with every swipe.

You leaned down to take his cock in. Despite having a regular hook up with him, you still had to really work to get his cock in your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his girth, your tongue pressing and flicking at the skin.

You felt the tip of his tongue poked into your hole then, stabbing into it, juicing you further. You moaned against his shaft, your saliva rolled down the length that you could not fit in your mouth (yet). Wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock, you squeezed lightly and started to stroke him. With more lubrication, and your mouth relaxing, you slowly took more in, until the head hit the back of your throat.

He rewarded you by pushing two fingers in. You moaned, and clenched when he added another finger. “You’re still so tight, what the fuck.” He mumbled against your cunt.

He pumped his fingers slowly, while his mouth focused on your clit. Everything in you tensed up as your sensitive nub was stimulated, but you forced your throat to stay relaxed. You knew if you could get more of him in your mouth, he would give you that fourth finger. You closed your eyes and inhaled sharply through your nose as you pushed yourself. You felt the head slid slightly further in, and you immediately controlled your gag reflex.

“Oh darling, you’re so good to me.” Taehyung’s mouth left your clit to praise you. “You’re so good.”

You tightened your lips around his shaft then slowly pulled out, your saliva leaving a glistening trail. His mouth was back to tease your clit as he inserted a fourth finger. You were so stretched at both ends, and it felt so, so delicious. His tongue was flicking your button furiously, encouraged by the shaking of your legs and your moans around his cock.

He growled when your fingers instinctively dug into the flesh of his thighs. “You’re clenching so tight baby.” He said between flicks. “Gonna cum on my fingers? While you suck my cock?”

You garbled a yes, which only sent more drool down to coat his testicles. It made him piston his fingers faster and more roughly and his tongue pressed harder against your clit. You could feel your juices flow more and more into his waiting mouth, the slurping sounds pushed you closer towards your bliss.

The string in your body finally snapped. You came, and you came hard, your pussy seized his fingers in a deadly grip, your eyes squeezed shut as your screams were muffled by his cock. He continued fucking you through your orgasm, and when he felt your body starting to relax, he pulled his fingers our of your cunt and his cock out of your mouth, then flipped you over to lie your back.

“Taehyung, what- ” you sounded your objection, but he quickly cut you off by inserting the same four fingers back into your sensitive hole. You arched your back, your hands moving down to weakly swat away his, but at the same time, you spread your legs wider to accommodate him.

“One more, darling, please.” He asked sweetly. “Wanna see your face when you cum.”

His body was hovering above yours, his eyes wild with lust. He pumped his fingers almost desperately, his palm rubbing over your hooded clit. Oversensitivity quickly gave way to pleasure again, and he leaned down, supported by his free hand, his curly hair swinging around his handsome face.

“Look at me, darling, open your eyes. That’s it.”

You forced yourself to keep your eyes on Taehyung’s, even when it was getting so fucking difficult to. The more he moved his palm and his fingers, the more your eyes lost their focus, and before you knew it, your whole body became taut, and this time, with no intrusion in your mouth, you screamed his name over and over as you felt your body exploding. Your hands reached out and gripped his hair as you came, and he hissed at the stinging pain on his roots. But his fingers did not stop, they kept going, until you loosened your hold on his locks and you opened your eyes.

“So fucking sexy, darling.” He praised you. “You look so damn sexy cumming for me.”

“Taehyung.” You weakly caressed his face. He turned his face so he could kiss your palm.

He then removed his fingers and brought it towards you to look. “So wet.” He spread his fingers lightly to show you the sticky sheen he had collected. He shuffled to get his knees on either side of your waist, his soaked digits wrapping around his still hard cock. You whimpered as you watched him stroke himself.

“Cum on my face, Tae.”

“Fuck, you sure?”

You looked him in the eyes and nodded. “Paint my face white.”

He growled again in that baritone voice of his, and jerked himself intensely. You eagerly waited for his seed spraying onto your face, your eyes flicking between his eyes and the head of his cock. Your pussy was still throbbing from your last orgasm, and you snaked your hand down to rub on your battered clit.

Taehyung saw your hand move to the spot between your legs. “Gonna cum again, darling?”

You could only nod, as your mind went hazy one more time. You felt your thighs and your lower abdomen tensing up, and you rubbed your clit in tight circles, urging yourself to come for the third time that night. You ignored the oversensitivity, you knew it would soon go away. And you were right, before long, your body started shaking again. Keeping your eyes on him, you welcomed another orgasm, albeit weaker than before. You heard him curse, then you felt a splatter of warm liquid hitting your cheek. You quickly opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, hungry for a taste of him. You kept your finger pressed on your clit as he decorated your face with his cum.

You closed your mouth, swallowing the cum that had made it there, and you licked around your lips for more. He squeezed the last drop of cum out of his cock, then collapsing next to you. You lay side by side, recovering from your intense session.

After a few minutes, he got up from the bed, murmuring that he needed to clean you up. You grunted your response inelegantly, and he chuckled. Coming back with a wet towel, he started to gently wipe your face, then your sex, taking extra care knowing how sore you were. Then he plopped back down next to you.

You liked this best, when he turned to you to lay his head on your chest, his long arm and leg sprawled over your body. He was such a cuddler. You absentmindedly played with his hair, while his thumb rubbed circles on your ribs. You took a deep breath. You savoured moments like this with him, the intimacy allowed you to stupidly hope even though you knew it was useless. But you’d take it. This was good enough.

“That wasn’t too dirty, was it?” He asked.

You frowned at his question. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I think it was the wildest sex we’ve had, but, I don’t know,” he shrugged, “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

You cooed at his attention. “Tae, I enjoyed every second of it.”

He looked up at you, eyes twinkling. “You were so hot, you know. And loud.”

You laughed. “You have that effect on me.” He smiled, then put his head back on your chest.

“Can I ask you something?” Taehyung moved to lie on his side, facing you. You turned to look at him. “When, uh, when you rode me and sucked my fingers, did you like it?”

You giggled nervously. “Um…” you felt your cheeks blush, “yeah, it was a big turn on? I just like how you made me feel full. At both ends.”

He hummed. “And when we 69? Like when I fingered you and you were sucking me.”

You nodded. “Yeah, it was fucking hot.”

He nodded at your answer. He looked away then back at you. He opened his mouth to ask the next question, only to quickly shut it before he could get a word out.

“Is everything okay?” You prodded.

He cleared his throat. “Well,” he started, “I really don’t know how to say this.”

“Just say it then.”

“Don’t get mad at me, okay?” He swallowed when you looked at him curiously. “Uh… would you be interested in a threesome? Maybe?”

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“You don’t have to answer!” He said hurriedly. “It just came across my mind, and I was just curious, and if you feel uncomfortable answering, you don’t have to say anything. God, just forget I ask!” He rolled onto his back and covered his face with his arm.

You stared at him. He wanted to have a threesome with you? Did you want to have a threesome with him? “Tae, have you ever had a threesome before?”

“Uh, yeah, once in university.” He was still covering his face.

“With a girl and another guy or with two girls?”

“A girl and another guy. The girl was someone I knew who wanted to try it. The guy was my best friend in university, well he’s still my best friend now.”

“Okay, so that threesome you asked,” You couldn’t believe you were having this conversation with your crush. “if I said yes, who would it be with?”

“Uh, I’d ask my best friend.” He answered sheepishly. “I mean, I trust him, you know? With my life. I know he would be discreet and respectful, he would treat your right, and he would never ever breathe a word about it to anyone ever, and-“

“Why do you want to have a threesome with me?” you interrupted him.

“Because,” he took a deep breath, “the way you looked and sounded just now, fuck, it was just so insanely sexy! And I- for some reason- kept seeing you with another cock rather than my fingers. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You thought about what he said. Riding Taehyung while having another cock in your mouth. Sucking Taehyung while another cock pounded your pussy. Your body felt hot, you could not even tell if it was from embarrassment or arousal, until you pressed your legs together. Yup, it was arousal.

“Taehyung,” you pulled his arms away. He glanced at you. “I want to. Let’s do it.”

He sat up, shocked. “Fuck, really? You don’t think I’m a pervert?”

You laughed as you sat up too. “Yes, really. And no, I don’t. Like I said, I like feeling full. From both ends.” You were sure your cheeks were red as a beet as you convinced him. You were sure, 100% sure. You wanted to experience this with Taehyung. Fuck, you had made a sex tape with Yoongi, you definitely could do a threesome with Taehyung. Yes, you wanted this.

“Wow. I hated myself for asking you, but now I’m super… excited.” You glanced down at his member. Oh he was excited, all right.

You scooted closer to him, maybe you both could have one more go before he had to leave. “So, who is this best friend?” You asked, rubbing his pecs.

“Actually, you may know him. He’s an attorney too.” He pulled you onto his lap. “His name is Park Jimin.”

You felt blood draining from your body.

FUCK.

~~~

Today

The band finishes their last song, and as last applause dies down, you turn to your friend. “So, what do you think? They’re good, right?”

“Hmm. They’re not bad.”

“You like them!” You clap. “I’m a pretty good talent scout, aren’t I?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Don’t give up your day job.”

You scrunch your face at him then grab his hand. “Come, I’ll introduce you to them.”

You pull Yoongi closer to the stage, then wave energetically at Taehyung, who is helping out his hyungs clearing their instruments. His eyes widen when he sees you, mouth breaking into that boxy smile you’re so fond of.

“Hey! Long time no see!” He hops off the stage and rushes to hug you. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good. Oh it’s so good to see you.” You give him one last squeeze before letting him go. “Tae, this is Min Yoongi, a music producer.”

Taehyung’s jaw drops. “Oh my god. Min Yoongi. THE music producer.”

Yoongi rubs his neck uneasily.

“He’s shy.” You wink at Taehyung as his band mates join him. You make the introduction all over again, and laugh cheekily at Yoongi’s increasing discomfort as the band members fanboy over him. Seojoon, the oldest member of the band, shepherds the whole group to a table, where he promptly orders drinks for everyone.

Soon, Yoongi and the band get into a deep conversation about music, and you sit back, watching them while you nurse your beer. You love watching Yoongi in his element, his passion shines through, just like your boyfriend does when he talks about poetry and arts. You are about to text him, to update him on Yoongi’s positive reaction to the Wooga Band, when Taehyung slides to sit next to you.

“I can’t believe Min Yoongi is here. And he actually likes our stuff.” He whispers excitedly, as if saying it any louder would make Yoongi disappear into thin air.

You giggle. “Of course he likes your stuff. You guys are seriously good.”

Taehyung rubs his face. “Best day ever.” He exhales slowly, then turns to look at you, to really look at you. “How have you been?”

“I’m good.”

“Good.” He clears his throat. “I haven’t seen you much since…. well since that night, so I was worried…”

“I told you I was busy.”

“Yeah I know, I know.” He sighs wistfully. “Still, I was worried.”

“Taehyung, that night,” you lower your voice, “is one of the best nights of my life.”

He smiles smugly as he leans in. “It is pretty mind blowing for me too.”

“Honestly, I was extremely nervous about it, but once we started, oh my god, Tae, it was so fucking hot. I still think about it a lot.”

Taehyung smirks. “Don’t you have a boyfriend now? Should you not be this obvious about that night?” He teases.

You take a swig off your beer. “Well, he doesn’t need to know everything I did in the past, does he?”

You both giggle giddily. God, you really miss him.

“So, we’re good?” He asks.

“Of course, we always are.” You clink your beer with his cola, your crush long forgotten but your friendship remains intact. “Wooga Band is getting more fans, I see.” You look around to see a considerably larger crowd than when you first saw them play many months ago.

“Yeah, it’s great. The club keeps asking us to play more nights, you know.“

“Wow, that is amazing! Once you record a song with Yoongi, you’ll be a household name!”

Taehyung waves your comment away shyly. “Ah, we’ll see. It’s nice to think that, but… we’ll see.”

You hum. “Are you still working as a paramedic?”

He nods. “Yeah, but this month would be my last.” He chuckles at your shocked expression. “I’m going back to get my Master’s. I want to be a counselor.”

“Taehyung, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy to hear that.” You truly are happy for him. He has mentioned before that he wanted to do more to help people. You hug him. “You will make such amazing difference in people’s lives.”

He hugs you back then lets you go. “You’ve always been my biggest cheerleader. Thank you.”

You look at him fondly, then hug him again. “I’ll always support you, Tae.”

Your boyfriend joins you later that night, work having kept him longer than usual. You introduce him to Taehyung and the band (he has met Yoongi before), and you wonder at Taehyung’s tone towards your boyfriend when the former says, “Good to know she’s in good hands.”

You don’t spend too much time pondering that, however, as your boyfriend pulls you to the side, a little away from the group so he can kiss you properly. You smile at him lovingly, content to be in his embrace.

“Yoongi seems to like Taehyung and his band a lot.” He comments.

You nod as you snuggle him. “I bet he already has a song in mind for them.”

Another band is on the stage, playing something sensual. The alcohol you have consumed, combined with your conversation with Taehyung about THAT night, is stirring something inside you. You wrap your arms tighter around your boyfriend’s middle, resting your head on his chest. You swear his pecs get bigger after every trip to the gym.

“You’re clingy tonight.” He teases. You look up at him and pout. He smiles before leaning down to kiss you.

“Daddy,” you call him sweetly.

“See, clingy.” He kisses the tip of your nose.

“Daddy,” you whisper, “would you ever want to do a threesome?”

A/N : Tada! I hope you enjoy reading this, and have I teased you enough about the Jimin chapter?? :D

Published on 06052021

#btscreatorscorner #thebtswritersclub #noonasinnetwork #thetruthuntoldnet #purplearmynet #bts smut #bts fanclub #taehyung smut #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #LittleBlackBook

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spenciegoob · 4 years ago

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The 4 Types of Manipulation

A/N: hey hey hey cuties... just thought I’d drop in to tell you I love you and Harry Styles at the Grammy’s, oh and Miley Cyrus in general. Okay that’s it.

Summary: Spencer has to interrogate an unsub, but she has a few tricks up her sleeve.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Unsub!Reader

Category: Not fluff, but not angst... angsty fluff? fluffy angst?

Content Warning: mentions of murder, manipulation, mentions of sex in the form of flirting, mentions of drug use, mentions of emotional abuse

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.8K

____

Nobody dared to take a breath out of place, every profiler was packed into the room watching with careful eyes at the sobbing girl in the interrogation room through the glass. No one knew what their first step should be, but I guess there’s a first time for everything, right? Winging it was not something anyone in the BAU enjoyed doing, each case needed a thought out plan.

But they’ve seen this unsub before, they know the profile, the history, they know her. So why was she crying so hard that the weight of her head became unbearable, leaving her only option to sob into the crooks of her elbows as best as she could with wrists cuffed to the table?

Nobody knew, except for Spencer Reid.

Emily was hesitant, as expected, to blindly send in one of the best agents she’s ever seen into the room that with each tear shed slowly morphed into a lion’s den. Reid deserved better, she knew that, especially since the last time they dealt with an unsub like this one, Spencer had to be so far out of the loop that the case almost broke him.

He put up a good fight though, and if the determination set in his eyes wasn’t enough to inform the unit chief that she was not winning this argument, his deviance to storm through the door, startling the young woman chained down definitely did.

Why was it always Spencer?

Tears:

“P-please, I didn’t do anything.” Those were the first words anyone’s heard her say since the arrest, even if they were separated by sniffles and choked out sobs.

Spencer just stared down at her, not taking the risk to further entertain the stuttering girl with wet cheeks and tired eyes.

“I promise I’m not a murderer. You have to believe me, please.” That promise whispered so quietly made with unbreakable eye contact urged him to take a second to reevaluate the situation.

She was apprehended in place of Jacob Hughes, the man they had originally been looking for. There was a chance she wasn’t complicit, a chance she was innocent. Maybe Jacob placed a hair of hers at the latest crime scene because he knew they were closing in.

Or maybe she is just as sick as he is.

“Prove it,” Spencer said, his tone loud and assertive, leaving no room for argument. She didn’t plan on fighting his demand anyway.

“I- I haven’t seen Jacob for days. He drugged those men, and did h-horrible things. Those poor men.” This struck a nerve, everybody could tell, even the one person in this interaction that wasn’t a profiler.

Spencer’s shoulders tensed for a millisecond, but she saw it. She saw what her words were doing to him, after all, he used to be one of those poor men she felt so sorry for.

Another loud sob echoed off the concrete walls before she bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath.

“I can’t believe he mur... did that to them. H-how could he?” Spencer watched as the young girl looked up to him like he held the answer to the million dollar question. He studied the way her eyes bounced around his face, looking for something, anything to relieve some confusion when it came to her fiancé.

“Jacob Hughes is what we call a vindictive narcissist and a sadist. He receives pleasure from hurting others, and in this case, drugging and torturing men because he feels he’s been wronged his whole life. The question, however, is why. I know you know, just like how I know you’re aware of his crimes.”

It was a blow so low it could’ve come from hell itself. Spencer regretted it immediately when he watched the way her whole body stiffened at the mention of her knowledge, but he had to be certain no matter the fallout.

“I-I still don’t understand. I’ve never seen him hurt anyone.” Denial, guilt and fear all jam packed into 3 little words that had his heart dangerously close to breaking. The sorrow in her eyes believable enough that Spencer left his standing position between the suspect and the door to sit directly across from her.

She watched his movements with careful eyes, only stealing glances from her peripherals before returning to her cuffed wrists.

“Maybe you’ve never seen him physically hurt anyone, but we know what he does to you.” It was the first and only time Spencer let any emotion, as fake as it was, show in his responses. How could he not try when the girl resumed her sobbing at the implication of her past deception from the man she loves?

“You know nothing,” she whispered back, her tone laced with defensive anger.

“I know everything.” Was he challenging her?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Was she challenging him?

“You know what it means.” Yes, he was.

“Do I?” Yes, she was.

The two stared at each other for the entire tone shift in the stuffy interrogation room. The other profilers on the other side of the mirror had no knowledge of how thick the tension had just become because unlike Spencer, they weren’t standing in the middle of it.

Small sniffles were the only noise breaking through the quiet until suddenly, they just stopped.

“Ugh, fine! You win this round. My eyes are starting to hurt from all this goddamn crying. Do people actually cry this much when you arrest them?”

Spencer leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms to clearly convey just how unamused he was with the girl’s antics. She watched him intently, picking apart every move down to the muscle trying to search for any indicators that her little performance worked even a fraction of what she was hoping for.

And she got her wish in the form of the agent’s fingers tapping lightly at his sides under perfectly muscular, if she may add, arms, because any other movement would have been too obvious.

Spencer Reid was getting nervous, because the second her facade faded, he lost the upper hand. She just had to get him trapped in here.

“Oh come on. Not even a ‘good job’? I wasn’t expecting full blown applause, but some appreciation for that show would be nice.” Still, Spencer gave her nothing. He needed her to keep talking, and filling silence was a sure way to make certain she did just that.

“I’ll tell you what you need to know, but first you have to admit that I had you fooled for a second there.”

Lies:

“No.” Unexpectedly, instead of getting frustrated with Spencer’s refusal to play along, she just smiled brighter. This was exciting to her, and it was getting on his nerves.

“What gave it away? Did I look to the left before I spoke or something?” Spencer kept his mouth shut. “Come on, what’s my tell? Enlighten me.”

She copied his movements as Spencer leaned over the cool, metal table slightly, eyes racking over her face, lingering on certain parts for longer than others.

“No.” At this, she huffed back in her seat, leaving the close proximity that would later be used as a secret tool against the doctor before he had the chance to catch on.

“If you’re just going to shut down every single one of my proposals, then why am I here?”

“You’re here because you’re a suspect in a series of 7 murders in the past 5 weeks.” She perked up at his words, amusement dripping from her features.

“Finally, Doc has something more to say than just ‘no.’ Tell me, was that so hard?”

“No.”

“Ugh!” Rolling her eyes would be giving ammo to the enemy, but the urge to do so was quite strong. In fact, she almost did until she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the one way mirror.

“I’m serious when I say this,” she said, looking directly into Spencer’s eyes so he couldn’t accuse her of lying. “If you take the cuffs off, I’ll answer everything.”

“No.”

“Please! They’re seriously starting to hurt. I put 100% into that performance, and now it’s coming back to bite me in the-”

“Fine!” Spencer stood up carefully, not walking around the table until he was certain the girl wasn’t a flight risk, or worse. When he did finally make his way over, she sat completely still, not taking her eyes off where his fingers grazed hers as the handcuffs unlocked.

A breath of relief escaped her as she rubbed her wrists with the opposite hands, eventually feeling the blood fully return to all 10 fingers.

“Thank you.” It was so vulnerable and raw that it knocked Spencer back for a second. They locked eyes, and something deeper than he was ready for passed between them.

He didn’t know what it was, all he knew was that he hated it so much that he tore his eyes away immediately to return back to his original spot seated across from her.

“Answer me this-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Neither of them spoke for far too much time, and Spencer was growing more annoyed by the second.

“What?” It came out harsh, and mean, and downright cruel, but he couldn’t care less.

“Oh nothing, I just wasn’t going to answer anything. I really just wanted to fix my hair.” And, in being true to her words this time, she secured her hair into a messy bun using the elastic Spencer didn’t even realize was missing from his wrist.

“I’m putting the cuffs back on.”

“No wait,” she pleaded, halting Spencer’s move to get up. “They really did hurt, I wasn’t lying about that.”

“I don’t care.” He made his way over, forcefully grabbing both of her wrists before securing the handcuffs back on. Spencer only regretted his actions slightly when she winced at the metal now back to pressing into her skin.

“Yes you do. It’s your biggest flaw.” Instead of answering, Spencer just returned to his seat, leaning back with crossed arms. He didn’t need to listen to a psychopath tell him his flaws.

“You care too much,” she continued, not minding if he was listening or not. “It gets you hurt, other people hurt. I wish that wasn’t the case. You deserve better, Doc.”

Spencer didn’t engage, opting to gawk tiredly at the suspect, and watch the way her eyes flicker across his features, gauging for a reaction. She wasn’t done.

“Hey, okay, fine. I’m just messing with you,” she laughed, finally breaking her serious facade. “What? A girl can’t joke around while she’s being accused of murder?”

“Accused? Or caught?”

“Accused.” It was final, her tone immediately dropping to a fiery rage. Her defenses were up, and Spencer was never really good at playing on the offensive team.

This time, it was Spencer’s turn to analyze, watching the way the blood rushed to her cheeks with her rising anger level. How all of a sudden her eyes lost their playful glint, giving him the chance to fully see the soul buried deep in them. For a split second, she was completely unveiled right before his eyes.

Spencer, clearly not anticipating just how long the girl in front of him could hold her own, used his last bullet.

He placed the crime scene photos in front of her.

“You know who did this.” It wasn’t a question, he saw it in her eyes. Spencer watched the way they remained stoic even after looking at the bloody walls, and vacant eyes of the deceased.

“No.” Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Who are you protecting?” Her head shot up at his question, eyes flashing red before she blinked it away again. Subconsciously, she started to pick at her fingernails.

“No one.” It was a lie if he’s ever heard one.

Fear:

“You’re lying. Who is it?”

“I’m not lying.” She wouldn’t even make eye contact with him. Instead, she gave her undivided attention to her shaky hands confined to the table.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Enough! Who are you protecting?!” At this, Spencer stood up and slammed his hands against the table with a strong amount of force that she flinched hard enough to further irritate her wrists.

He felt awful, the bouncing back and forth between them should have given him enough indicators that she wasn’t lying out of spite. But he couldn’t back down, he had her cornered and her only way out was to tell the truth.

“No one.” She wouldn’t look at him, even as she whispered. “Please stop.”

Spencer truly believed that he had her in a bind, an inescapable one at that, but it wasn’t the truth. Oh no, what the profiler failed to realize was she had him where she needed him.

“I have no information to give you,” she whispered before tagging along. “I’m sorry.” It was the first time she apologized for something Spencer could have seen as an inconvenience.

He believed her, too.

“I shouldn’t have yelled.” That was his form of an apology. Spencer wasn’t going to go any further with it, even if she was coerced into lying by whoever the true unsub is, she was still getting on his nerves.

Her hands were still shaking at this point, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Spencer just slumped back into his seat, settling into the silence between them until ultimately he was either called out of the room, or she gave him another indication that her game hasn’t ended.

A loud sigh bounced off the walls. “I don’t care that you yelled in my face. You think it’s the first time a man’s done that? You’re not special, Doctor.”

“I never said I was.” So the game carries on, but this time, she didn’t smile at his sarcastic response. Leaning back in her chair, she huffed a breath before continuing.

“You really want to be though, don't you?”

Lust:

She was pushing his buttons, trying so hard to dig under his skin till she was unremovable. She wanted Spencer to leave this room with her on his mind for the rest of his days.

She was close too.

“No, I don’t,” Spencer deadpanned, trying to keep a cool tone. If he continued to hand her the ammunition she needed, he would be left defenseless.

“Oh come on, loosen up. I was just joking.” A smirk grew across her features, a thought crossing her eyes. One Spencer knew would not be in favor of his win tonight. “I could help you with that, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” He did. Spencer wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that the woman sitting across the table wasn’t extremely attractive; she was. He just would never admit it aloud.

“I have a feeling you like to get rough, don’t you, Doctor?” She asked, sitting up and crossing her legs. The stare shared between the two of them was a mix between passion and anger, meeting in the middle to create a new kind of emotion.

“Is this fun for you?” She left out bait, and Spencer was stupid enough to fall for it. Emily once said that a pretty face slashed his IQ in half.

He couldn’t help but agree.

“Undo these cuffs, and I’ll show you what fun is.” She was toying with him now, and they weren’t going to get anywhere, but Spencer couldn’t find it within himself to get up and leave. She had him by the...

“I’m going to get that confession.” It was like he was five years old again, arguing on the playground with the older kids about how their insults didn’t make sense.

“What’re you going to do, punish me?” She asked, the last words in a hushed whisper. When Spencer’s cheeks grew hotter, and his eyes darker, she knew she had him.

“You do like to get rough! My, my, Doctor, you're keeping me at the edge of my seat here.” She let out a boisterous laugh before really digging the knife deeper. “Is that why you kept the cuffs on?”

Before he could snap back, the door flew open and Emily stood there with a tablet in her hand. “You need to see this.”

Spencer got up to leave, thankful for the reprieve even if he did have to return to the interrogation after speaking with Emily. He almost made it to the door before a voice called out behind him.

“Wait!” She called after him, the cuffs rattled when she instinctively went to reach for Spencer. “Aren’t you going to answer my question, Doctor.”

Playing chess his whole life, Spencer had never once played a game where Checkmate presented itself unexpectedly. He was always at least three moves ahead in his mind, seeing the inevitable end before he even began his gameplay. There was a first for everything, because his last move suddenly arose.

“No.”

_____

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qiqi-media · 3 years ago

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Descendants fanfiction Audrey turns back time: Audrey gifts Ben the anti Magic blue bird necklace

This scene is post family day

Audrey was on edge, she knew family day was what set the plan back in action for the VKs and yet she still couldn’t stop it. Since Mal didn’t have Ben by her side this time she didn’t what move she was going to make next. She decided it was time to gift Ben with some protection before things could go any further.

“You wanted to see me?” Ben walked onto the bench at their usual spot. He looked exhausted, his collarbones were visible, and his former rounded cheeks were sunken in. The king was never constantly smiling yet, he now had a permeant deep frown on his face. What happened at family day really took a toll on him, especially with how his parents reacted.

“Yeah I wanted to give you this.” Audrey replied unhooking the necklace with twin blue birds on it. She leaned over as Ben frowned deeper in confusion while she clasped it around his neck. “It’s has anti-magic on it as King, I felt you shouldn’t walk around absolutely unprotected. You’ll never know what will happen.” She tried to explain to him as the rarely angry king filled with rage. “Mal? You’re trying to protect me from Mal, aren’t you? What is it with you about the VKs? They haven’t done anything wrong they’re good people. You and everyone else keep judging them when all they’re tryin-”

Audrey interrupts him getting angry herself “Trying to do what Ben? You don’t know those kids, for fucks sake you barely even know me! The younger generation is one thing but come on now, you knew the elders weren’t going to welcome them with open arms. I don’t think your dream is stupid but it would be nice if you used a little common sense for once.” She yells back at him before angrily snatching up her bag. Ben was left hurt and shocked at the fact that his usually upbeat girlfriend was angry enough to curse at him when he was in need. As she was turning to walk away she stops in her tracks before looking back at him with tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

“This is your kingdom, your country, you’re the king. So I’ll respect every decision you make for Auradon. You want to bring the VKs over, go ahead dump the whole lot over here. Is it really too much to ask as your lady that you maybe think of anything that could backfire on us?” She asks

“Making them feel like we don’t trust them won’t solve anything. Your grandmother was the one who started that argument. I appreciate your gift, I really do I just don’t like the message behind it.” Ben tried to explain to her running his hand over his forehead.

“You misunderstood the message, this is to protect you from anything now. You’re going to be King in a number of days and you don’t even have anything to defend yourself with.”

“Audrey look, I don’t have time for this could we please talk about this another time. I’ll wear it if it makes you feel better but as my lady I’d really appreciate it, if you’d help make the Vks feel more welcomed here.” Ben sighed, he was truly trying to do his best for the future of the kingdom. He didn’t want anybody to be hurt or locked away for crimes they didn’t commit.

“Thanks, you can think of it as a parting gift.” She muttered fixing the hair that stood up during her rage. Ben looked confused at her words and tried to ask before Audrey’s next words beat him to it.

“I’m breaking up with you, I can’t do this anymore. I can support your decisions as a citizen of Auradon who respects her King but I will not be disrespected. How you expect me to break bread with the girl who’s mother traumatized my entire family. Then when she gets here tries to steal my boyfriend.” She adds in the last sentence when Ben tries to interject to say that Mal was innocent of her mother’s crimes. “I won’t sit and deal with this anymore, grammy wants me to be the perfect girlfriend who sits and smiles at anything for you, while you want me to be buddy buddy with the Vks. I got other things I could be doing, this is over.” As she walks away from Ben who was hurt and stunned by the unexpected breakup Audrey turns back to the unhealthily skinny King

“Please take care of yourself Ben, your people need you.”

#disney descendants #descendants #ben descendants #audrey descendants #ben florian #ben x audrey #descendants fanfiction #descendants fanfic #baudrey #mal #mal bertha

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

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Say You’ll Remember Me (Songbird Chapter 1)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary: After performing at open mic night at a bar downtown, Reader meets someone that could change everything for her. Rating: 18+ Warnings: Smut (oral sex - male and female receiving, fingering, male masturbation, cockwarming, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie), Language Word Count: 7.1k

SERIES MASTERLIST SERIES PLAYLIST (new songs added with the release of each chapter)

***

Love never came easy to me. Truth be told, a lot of things never came easy to me, and I was okay with that, but love was probably the one thing I wish I could just let myself feel with no problem.

For as long as I could remember, I've wanted to be in love with someone as much as I'd seen my parents love each other. My older sister got a boyfriend when she was 17 and I was 11, and they've been together ever since. They're married with two children now, and just as in love now as they'd been when they met.

I've never seen anyone love the way I've seen my family love, but for some reason I was never able to give as much as them. I mean, I felt love obviously, but it was never that all-consuming, life-changing love that was supposed to make your head spin and your soul ache.

Maybe I just never found the right person, but every relationship I've ever been in ended because of my inability to give out as much love as I was given. And that's not to say that I didn't care about the people I've dated, they were all really great people in fact... But I could never fully be in it, you know? Some people give their all to another person, would do anything and everything for them if it meant they got to spend the rest of their lives together, but I never felt that. Sure, I could have settled in any of my relationships, but if I was going to actually spend my time building a life with another person, I was going to really feel like I needed it to survive. Or, like I deserved it, if I was going to go that far.

For the past few years I've pretty much given up on relationships. I've been on a few dates, had a few hookups here and there, but at this point I was almost certain that love wouldn't find me any time soon.

However, the one thing that filled that love-shaped void in my soul was music. Words, melodies, stories... It all made me feel the way I was convinced love was supposed to make you feel. Even if I never wrote songs about my (positive) experiences with love, I loved love songs, and most music in general. That was the one thing I was sure of. Music was the one and only love I knew I could count on. It kept me safe, it ensured that I wasn't alone, and it hugged me in a way where I've never felt more at home.

Which would explain why I was here on a Friday night, singing in front of an entire crowded bar. Performing and sharing my music with people was the best way I knew how to outwardly show... well, anything about myself, really. I didn't go to open mic nights often, but when I did it felt better than anything in the world.

Tonight was... different, though. Not in a bad way, of course, but there was something in the air that made me feel like something great was going to happen.

It was the same feeling I got whenever I knew I was about to get laid.

Now, say what you want about it, about me, but even if I sucked at finding love I sure knew how to have one-night stands. I loved sex. It was another way I was able to get that happy rush of feelings while being with another person without actually having to be in love with them. Truly, sex was the perfect outlet for me, and my music was a great tool that helped me get it. Not that I needed help—if I wanted sex bad enough I could easily look for it—but the fact that I could play several instruments and sing well definitely made things easier.

And tonight I wanted it bad.

I hadn't realized it until I tried to figure out what song to sing for open mic night, and in turn came to the conclusion that I hadn't had sex with another human being in about a month. Which wasn't a bad thing by any means, but it didn't change the fact that I wanted someone else to help me out in chasing that high this time.

So I opted to go with a cover of a song I knew would do the job no matter what. I brought my electric guitar with me and mirrored the Wildest Dreams performance that Taylor Swift did from the GRAMMY Museum. The song itself was sexy and sweet, but with the electric guitar and the electric guitar only, it made for less sweet and more sexy. I'd always loved that performance from the second I saw it, so as soon as I was able, I bought an electric guitar and taught myself to play it. It was a hit every time I performed it.

I was wearing a maroon, long sleeved turtle-neck crop top that exposed my belly-button ring (which was sparkling silver and caught the light in the bar beautifully, if I were to say so myself), a pair of tight jeans, and black glittery heels that I only ever pulled out when I was feeling brave. My hair was half-up and half-down, leaving a good amount of my face exposed which donned silver eyeliner, sheer lip gloss, and my eyebrow ring. Paired all together with my black and white guitar and shiny nail polish that matched the deep maroon of my shirt, I felt hot as hell. Better than I'd felt in a while if I was being honest.

It felt even better when I was performing. I was confident in my abilities as a musician, to which I considered myself fortunate. If only I could have been that confident in other departments, I feel like I would have been dead-set for life.

But tonight I didn't want to think about that.

I played the song just as well as I had every other time. Probably even better, if only for the fact that I was working to get myself a lay. But whatever the scenario, I was feeling good and that's all I'd ever wanted to accomplish.

I saw him immediately after I sang the last note and the final chord of my guitar faded out into the applause.

He's just... where my eyes decided to wander, I guess. I don't know exactly what it was, but I was thankful for it, even though I almost forgot to breathe with the way he looked back at me. I couldn't tell what color his eyes were because of how far away he was, but I'd have bet on my life that they were some shade of brown. He bit his lip rather nervously when he noticed me staring at him, unable to tear my eyes way, but nevertheless he kept his gaze trained on me. It was so strong I could have sworn they burned holes into my soul.

Or, more likely, my libido.

Either way, I knew it then, when I packed up my guitar and walked through the crowd to find him, that I wasn't going home alone for the first night in weeks.

That was a good feeling.

So good, in fact, that I allowed myself to be a little more vulnerable than normal. It wasn't anything huge, but it also wasn't like me at all.

While generally, guys are more notorious to be the ones kicking out the women after a one-night stand, I always found it the opposite. I hated waking up in the morning and having to kick some dude out of my apartment. They always put up some sort of fight when it came time to leave, and I didn't get why. All the women I've hooked up with were easier to communicate with on that front, so I didn't mind as much, but still made it a point to be the one coming and going no matter who I slept with.

There was something different about this guy, though. Again, my sex drive was probably getting the better of me, so it maybe wasn't the best idea to let him come to my apartment, but I truly believe that a part of me wanted this man to see where I lived. I... don't know what it was, or why it happened, but it felt exciting. It felt new. It sparked some newfound adventure in me that I didn't really know I craved until I had it.

That being said, I could almost tell immediately within minutes of talking to him that he was going to be a hard one to get to leave. But the thing is...

I didn't mind that.

Something deep inside me wanted to feel what it was like to wrap this man around my finger, to have him so invested in me that he didn't want to leave me, and it was a weird feeling. I didn't know what to do with it, exactly, other than test the waters and see what was going to come of it.

He was about to tell me his name. That's when I started to realize it was a bad idea, and I was already in a vulnerable position. So I held my hand out to his face, pressing my pointer finger to his lips and seductively licking my own.

"No names. Is that okay?"

Something in those brown eyes (I was right) practically begged me to let him say his name, and a part of me wanted to know what it was just so I could scream it. But I knew that if I knew his name, I was ultimately going to be in trouble.

Like I said, there was something different about him. I didn't know what it was, and I didn't want to know because if I did, then I was going to be even deeper in uncharted territory. Besides, if anything the mystery of having no names would make this even sexier. Right?

Reluctantly he nodded, and I slid my finger down his lips and under his chin, then over his throat. I saw the goosebumps form on his skin as I went lower, lightly over the navy blue sweater he was wearing and stopping at his lower stomach. I grabbed one of his belt loops and pulled him close to me, smiling softly as his eyes never stopped searching mine.

"You ready to show me a good time, Pretty Boy?"

He exhaled at the nickname , but I couldn't tell if it was from nerves or what... Either way, he said, "Yes," and I twisted his belt loop tighter with a wink.

***

She was the most captivating woman I think I'd ever seen.

She commanded every room she was in, made everyone pay attention to her, and even if she couldn't sing or play the guitar the effect would have been the same. Granted, I only ever saw her in the bar. So, technically only one room.

But it was about to be two.

I didn't even want to be in the bar, and I was going to leave since Derek, Emily, and Penelope ditched me for their own endeavors, but at the very last second a voice in the speakers cut through the radio-generated music announced that someone would be performing, officially kicking off open mic night.

It wasn't that that stopped me. But it was her name.

Y/N.

I had to wonder if, when she said, 'No names," she remembered or even knew that I'd already known it. Or maybe she just didn't want to know my name. Whatever that meant, it didn't deter me in any way from trying to take up any space or time that she had. After she locked eyes with me on stage, I sent out so many signals, hoping to whatever higher power was up there, if any, that she would come to me. I just... needed to know her. To see her up close.

Truthfully I don't know what made me think I had the right amount of confidence or skill to do anything other than babble incoherently or just stare in her presence, but thankfully she didn't have much of a knack for talking.

When she finally stood in front of me, I didn't know where to look. I knew ultimately that I should look at her face, but damn it if I couldn't help but look at all of her, my stomach naturally doing flips when I caught sight of her belly-button ring, and... Her hands... Good God, I couldn't stop staring at her hands. I realized once she was closer that that's mainly what I looked at while she was on stage. The way her fingers worked the guitar, making it look like it was the easiest thing in the world, it was enough to send me into a tailspin.

Truthfully I don't think there was one single flaw about her. Naturally all human beings have flaws, but as far as I could tell, from this first meeting, this woman was nothing but an angel sent from Heaven, specifically to destroy me.

My favorite part about her, though, was by far her voice. I didn't listen to much mainstream music, but if it sounded anything like that, then I wanted to hear all of it.

Forget angel... She was a siren.

Yeah. That was the perfect way to describe her.

And when she touched me...

I'm pretty sure I blacked out.

I say pretty sure, because I distinctly remember telling her, "Yes," when she'd asked me indirectly to leave with her, but everything else only came in one-second flashes. A moment where I was in her car, and more clearly a moment when she pulled me out of it and shoved me against the door after she closed it, running her glorious hands through my hair and attacking my neck with harsh, sloppy, butterfly-inducing kisses.

But I made myself remember when we were actually in the apartment, because there was no way I was going to let myself forget that moment.

So I was completely well-aware of everything around me when she unlocked the door, pulled me inside, and shoved me against another door for a second time that night. This time she kissed my lips, and I all but melted into her. Her tongue didn't waste any time slipping into my mouth, but I didn't waste any time trying to fight it. I would have given her anything she wanted, she didn't even have to ask for it.

That being said, she broke away from me, looked me dead in the eye, and asked, "Can I take your pants off?"

I nodded eagerly, choking out a breathy, "God, yes," as best as I could.

That seemed to be what she was looking for, because she all but groaned as she squatted on the floor and worked at my belt. I didn't know what to do with myself, my hands seeming to wander aimlessly before settling behind me on the door. Once she got my pants down, she looked up at me through those silver-painted eyelids and leaned forward, pressing a hot, wet kiss to my dick through my underwear.

Any other time in this sort of situation, I most likely would have felt embarrassed by whimpering the way I did, but seeing the primal lust widen her eyes as I did it completely erased any doubt I ever had. By the time she pulled my boxers down and licked a large, slow line up the underside of my dick, those doubts were completely wiped off the board, no evidence of them ever having been there.

I wanted to look at her more than anything, to memorize the way she looked wrapped around me, but my eyes wouldn't stay open. Everything I was feeling, every sensation that ran through my veins, every hot lick of her tongue as it swirled around my tip, every small stroke of her hand when she took a break to whisper filthy things to me... It all rendered me completely unable to think straight.

At one point I was almost at the breaking point, and she knew it, too, because she pulled away from me completely and stood straight, running one of her hands along the inside of my thigh as she went up. I opened my eyes to meet her, her mouth slick with a smear of her lip gloss and her saliva. She looked like she was on the brink of tears, but none of them had fallen. But the gleam in her eye, that's what stood out to me. She was so utterly consumed with burning desire that I would have done anything to satiate every need she had.

She waited a beat, studying my face and the way my lips were no doubt still smeared with her lip gloss. And then she grabbed one of my hands and brought it to cup her crotch, tilting her head to the side and practically sighing at the touch.

"Aren't you going to return the favor, Pretty Boy?"

My first instinct was to tell her I needed a second to breathe. But somehow I knew I wouldn't be breathing well regardless of what happened. I stumbled out of my shoes and pants as quickly as I could, using my hand to lightly rub along the seam of her jeans. As soon as I was free of constraints, I made a point to turn us around so she was the one with her back against the door. I helped her pull her pants off, and once they were, along with her heels, I draped one of her legs around my shoulder so the process would be easier for the both of us.

I've only ever gone down on a woman a few times, so it was safe to say I was a little nervous that I wouldn't be able to satisfy her. But even if I hadn't had much practice, I knew I was a good listener. I practically read people for a living, and I knew how to read behavior and body language. So I knew that that would be my strong suit here.

That being said, I did have some idea of where to start. So I looked up at her while I brought my tongue out to her panties, lightly dragging the tip of it along the seam that met the corner of her thigh. On my way to the other side I pressed the lightest of kisses to where her clit would be through the fabric, and then repeated the process a few times, feeling her squirm beneath me. Once I could tell she was getting close to frustrated, I made it a point to drag my tongue upwards in a long swipe until I reached her clit. I kissed it again before using one of my fingers to come up and slide under the fabric, though not pushing it entirely aside.

She sighed out as my finger ran along the very tops of her lips. When I pushed it in just the slightest, gathering her wetness as my tongue still gently worked at her clit through her panties, I took the moment to look up at her.

If she wasn't already the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, and in that moment she was even more perfect, her lip bit and her eyes on the verge of fluttering closed, I could only imagine what she would look like when I was inside of her.

I almost collapsed thinking about it, but went back to my task quickly, knowing that if I stopped thinking for once in my life then I wouldn't have to imagine it, and I could experience it instead.

So I finally pulled her panties aside and used the tip of my tongue again to taste her, just as lightly as I'd done it before. Only rather than fabric I was met with the smooth, slick taste of her pussy. I think I could actually hear her tremble under me as I flicked my tongue over her clit a few times, though everything I was feeling in that moment was so strong that it was more likely that I was losing every ability to think straight.

As time progressed I deepened my every movement, bringing my tongue deeper and harder through her gradually until the point where I was practically eating her out like a man starved. You could argue that I was starved for her in every sense of the word, but that moment wasn't about me. I was focused solely on making her feel good, paying attention to how tightly she gripped my hair when I briefly sucked on her clit, or the way she bucked her hips forward whenever I pushed my tongue inside of her as far as I could will it.

She seemed to like it best, though, when my fingers pumped slowly in and out of her in tandem with each swirl of my tongue around her clit. I took my time, savoring every second I could as my eyes stayed shut. I could barely keep them open.

When I finally did look up her, that seemed to finally be the thing that pushed her over the edge. Well, started to, anyway.

"Wait," she breathed, and for a second I thought maybe I'd done something wrong. I pulled away from her and raised an eyebrow, and all she did was look down at me, her eyes just as lust blown as they'd been before, if not even more. "I want you to edge me, can you do that? Just... keep bringing me there, but don't give me what I want. Not until I tell you to."

"Anything," I told her truthfully, keeping my eyes locked with hers as I brought my tongue to her once more. She shuddered under my touch as I worked at her clit again, quickly flicking over it as my fingers came up to hold her hips. It wasn't long before I brought her to the edge for the second time that night, and this time when I pulled away, I leaned my head into her thigh, pressing soft kisses to the inside. She was so focused on watching my face that she must not have noticed my fingers coming to slide into her again. She fluttered her eyes closed and leaned her head against the door with a soft thud as I fingered her, quickly picking up the pace as my tongue came out to lick at her thigh before I bit into it softly.

"Fuck, you're so fucking good with your hands," she managed to say through a moan.

I laughed a little, glancing over at her hands briefly and just letting the words fly from my mouth. "You're one to talk. The way you played that guitar? The way you touch me? Good God..."

She hummed hungrily, opening her eyes and pulling me up by my hair to pull me away from her. Her leg dropped from my shoulder and I stood up to meet her, towering over her by a good four to five inches.

For a moment we just stood there and stared at each other, both pants-less and desperate for each other but unwilling to do anything about it.

Until she pulled at my hair, craning my head to the side so she had access to my neck before running one of her hands down the side of my face, neck, and finding purchase gripping my shoulder. Her nails lightly scratched at my skin, sending a mess of goosebumps down my whole body, right before she took the other one and grabbed my bare ass.

"Baby, I've barely even touched you, yet."

I don't know what it was that made me so bold, but I smirked as both of her hands squeezed, causing her fingernails to leave indents into the skin on my right shoulder and my left ass cheek. "Touch me, then."

She was more than happy to oblige. Within seconds, both of her hands were slipping up my sweater and roaming my back and stomach as she leaned up and kissed me again. I met her lips happily, allowing her all the access she wanted to my tongue. At this point I was growing restless, wanting more than anything in the world to have her push me onto the bed, or the couch, or even the floor, and do to me whatever she saw fit.

My desperation must have broke the surface somehow, manifested in a way I hadn't noticed, because she laughed against my mouth, pushing me away and ripping off her shirt in one fluid motion. Which left her in only a grey bra that matched her panties.

"Take off your shirt," she said.

I didn't hesitate, doing as I was told and tossing it on the floor with our other clothes.

"Go sit on the couch."

I went there as quickly as I could, only feeling slightly embarrassed being the only one completely naked. But almost as soon as I sat down on her couch—truthfully one of the most comfortable ones I'd ever been on—she'd come up behind me and started massaging my scalp. I closed my eyes at the way it almost lolled me to sleep. If she did that any longer, I'm sure I would have.

Eventually, though, she slid her fingers down my neck and over my shoulders, resting them finally on my bare chest and drawing circles. She brought her lips down to my right ear and grazed it with her teeth before whispering, "Touch yourself for me? Go slow."

I didn't have to be told twice. As I'd quickly learned, I was pretty sure this woman could have done anything she wanted to me and I wouldn't have rejected her.

My hand firmly gripped my dick and went slow, just like she'd asked. With every long, meaningful stroke, she mirrored it with a swipe of her tongue along my neck. Her hands remained at my chest, reaching down to circle my nipples in very light, goosebump-inducing motions.

"Faster," she told me, and I listened. Each stroke of my hand was met with even faster, sloppier kisses along my neck and jawline, and I could have sworn I felt her fingernails digging themselves harshly into my chest.

"Faster."

By this point I was occasionally bucking my hips forward to meet my hand, and Y/N laughed lowly against my jaw, mumbling against it. "You wanna cum, Pretty Boy?"

"Not... Not yet," I stuttered truthfully.

"Aww," she cooed, tilting my head to the side and giving me a kiss on the mouth. It was probably the sweetest kiss we shared that night. "You want to cum inside me, don't you?"

She kissed me again immediately after she said it, and I moaned into her mouth, my hand working faster. If she didn't stop me, I was going to be done for, and I knew I wouldn't be able to go again. Not for a few hours at least. And I didn't know how long she'd want me to stay, or what we would even do while we waited.

Thankfully she seemed to take some semblance of pity on me, because she brought her hands away from my body, pulling back completely and telling me to stop.

I removed my hand and practically sighed in relief. I waited for further instruction, a sound, a touch, anything... But I almost had the wind knocked out of me when she appeared in front of me, having taken off her bra and underwear. What I found shouldn't have surprised me, but somehow it did. This woman was just full of surprises.

She had nipple piercings that matched the silver color of her eyebrow ring, not sparkly like the belly-button ring, but it was the cherry on top to what I'd already found practically perfect in every way.

As she sauntered to me, I couldn't decide where to look. Much like before. So I started from the bottom and worked my way up, eventually meeting her eyes when she straddled me on the couch and took my face in her hands.

"You clean?"

"Yes," I stated clearly, not wanting any signals to get crossed. I even nodded to accentuate my point.

"Good. Me, too. And I happen to be on birth control, so..." She leaned into my ear again and ground her hips into mine, the hot wetness of her pussy slightly grazing my dick. I almost fainted right there. "You can cum inside me all you want..."

She bit down on my shoulder then, and I groaned, bringing my hands to rest at her hips.

Then she pulled back and looked me in the eye again, grabbing my dick and lifting her hips to hover above it. She sunk down completely and quickly, letting me adjust to the feeling for all of two seconds before she gripped my chin in her right hand and smiled, batting her eyelashes. "But only when I tell you. You can't cum without my permission, got it?"

I breathed out a weak, "Yes," and then she got up and sank right back down, setting a quick and steady pace right away.

Both of her hands gripped my shoulders while mine stayed planted firmly around her waist, and if they were too tight she didn't say. In fact, by the look on her face I judged she probably enjoyed how tightly I was gripping her. So I decided to test it out. And sure enough, every time I let up my grip on her waist she would clench around me and move a little faster, making my grip tighten, and then she hummed, digging her nails into my shoulders.

Every high moan and whimper she let out as she rode me was just as melodic and beautiful as her voice when she sang. Added to the way she moved and the way she worked her hands, she was a rhythm all her own, constantly creating some sort of song, some piece of art that begged to be heard, to be felt in the deepest part of any soul that would embrace it...

I wanted it to last forever. I wanted to drown in her song forever.

Maybe that was a little dramatic. I mean, I only just met this woman under two hours ago at least (I wasn't sure how much time had passed truthfully), didn't know a single thing about her other than her first name, her musical ability, and her body. And all she knew about me was... well, my body.

Regardless, I was determined to make this last as long as I could, so I let go of her hips and brought my fingers to comb lightly through her hair, bringing her head up from the crook of my neck to meet mine, our foreheads touched together.

As if she knew what I was thinking, she slowed her hips, and then pressed her lips to mine gently. I'm pretty sure I felt my heart melt.

"What's wrong? Not gonna last much longer?"

I couldn't tell if it was a taunt or a genuine question. Either way, I shook my head and cradled her face. "I don't think so... But I want this to last."

"Hmm," she contemplated, but not for long, because seconds later she stopped moving her hips altogether and stayed sitting on my dick. She leaned back a little, bringing her hands to rest on her thighs as she took me in. "Well, then I guess I'll have to get creative."

I genuinely had no clue what she was about to do, but when she moved one of her hands to her breast and pinched at her nipple, I didn't care one way or the other. I was curious, sure, but ultimately I knew I would welcome whatever she did.

"I noticed you've been eyeing my piercings all night," she said sweetly, continuing to play with her nipples. She bit her lip softly before grinding down onto me and making me suck in a breath. "But I have to say, these two are my favorites... Aren't they pretty?"

"Fuck, they're beautiful," I breathed, splaying my hands over her stomach. "You're beautiful..."

"Aww,” she drawled. “Thanks."

Then she promptly removed her hands from herself, grabbed my wrists, and brought them to her breasts. My hands instinctively squeezed, feeling the contrast of soft skin and cold metal in my palms. I licked my lips before flicking my eyes up to meet hers. "Can I?"

"You can do whatever you want, baby," she purred, grinding her hips once more. A groan ripped from my throat before I leaned forward and brought her right nipple into my mouth, immediately swirling my tongue around the metal of her piercing. I think she might have groaned also, but I was so caught up in the way she grinded onto me and the feel of her skin on my tongue that I couldn't tell you for sure.

I kissed across her chest until I reached her other nipple, and gave it the same careful attention. Meanwhile I suddenly felt her hand slip down between our bodies so she could touch her clit. I brought my head up and peppered kisses up her neck.

"Let me help," I whispered against her skin, bringing one of my hands to replace hers.

She grabbed my wrist before I could get there. "No, keep doing what you're doing. Please..."

And that was that. I moved my mouth back down her neck, down the slope of her breast, and went back to flicking and swirling my tongue over her nipples. Eventually I took one and just slightly tugged at it with my teeth, causing her to buck her hips forward and send a shockwave of energy through me. At that point I was pretty sure I was almost feral with need, not caring how long it took anymore.

So right after she brought herself to orgasm, the movements on her clit slowing to a stop, I shifted our weight and pinned her to the couch so that her back was arched off the armrest. With an amused laugh, she wrapped her legs around my waist as I held one of my hands to the back of her head, the other on her waist, and pushed into her with one, long, fluid thrust forward.

I didn't waste any time with adjustments. I didn't care that my knee was only slightly hurting at the angle it was placed in. The only thing I cared about right then was fucking this woman so good she'd have to remember me. Which wasn't like me at all, but I didn't care.

So that's what I did. My hips set a ruthless, quick pace that had her sliding back until she was almost off the couch, the only thing keeping her anchored being my arm cradling her neck and head and her legs wrapping around my waist. Her heels dug brutally into my lower back, and if I had to guess, they were probably going to leave bruises. Not to mention her hands were clawing desperately at my shoulders to hold on, grabbing any skin she could as I pounded her into the arm of the couch.

I tried to keep my head up, but I was falling into oblivion. And I think she knew it, too, because she used her hands to keep me upwards, even doing so much as looking down between our bodies as best as she could to see me drilling my hips forward. The sight seemed to send her into a tailspin, because she bit her lip and groaned out.

"Fuuuuck, baby, just like that, don't stop, don't stopdon'tstopdon'tst—"

She came hard and fast, trying her best to keep her eyes open, right before looking up at my face. She clenched around me, and I knew I was done for. Any second now and I would finish. Just before it happened, she slid her hands up my neck, brushed the hair from my face, and brought me down to kiss her.

I moaned in her mouth as I came, keeping my hips pressed flush to hers and holding myself deep inside her. She moaned right back, swiping her tongue against mine as she squeezed her whole body around me and pulled me impossibly closer to her. In that moment, I didn't feel like it was just an orgasm... Which might sound cheesy and kind of stupid in retrospect, but it really felt that way. Right then, with her whole body holding mine and daring itself not to let go, it felt like every sense I had was stripped away and all that was left of me was her. As good as it felt to cum, it felt even better just being wrapped up in her in every capacity.

And that was why—even after we were finished and exhausted—we stayed just like that, wrapped up together on the couch with our lips moving lazily together until I felt myself start to drift off.

At that point, she'd somehow managed to pull me off of her and lean me back into the position I'd been in before, and my eyes struggled to stay open.

"I'm gonna go clean up," I thought I heard her say, and I wondered how she had the energy and stamina to stand up and walk around. But then again, I was so exhausted that I wasn't sure if anything that happened after we came down from our highs was even a coherent experience.

That being said, I managed to mutter an "Okay," while she disappeared and I tried to catch my breath. It only took about a minute before I realized that I was alone, and that she'd left to clean up the mess that I made. That seemed to snap me out of it, though not by much; I was still a little light-headed when I got up from the couch and started to collect my clothes from the floor.

I almost had my pants all the way on when I heard her voice from behind me.

"You don't have to leave... if you don't want."

I turned to face her, noticing that she was wearing a large nightshirt and probably nothing else. Even after she'd just gotten obliterated on the couch she still managed to look like the most angelic thing I'd ever seen. Or maybe I hadn't actually done as well as I thought, and she was the one who'd obliterated me... Either way, I felt bad for staying, especially knowing that she didn't even want to know my name.

So I shrugged, stifling a yawn. "No, it's fine, I... I should go. I don't want to intrude or anything, I—"

"Oh, please," she scoffed, walking up to me and placing a soft hand on my forearm. "As far as intrusion goes, I think we're way past apologies, don't you think?"

I smiled at that, admittedly leaning into her touch as her hand drifted up and to my cheek. "Okay. But only if you let me sleep on the couch."

"Don't be silly. You just fucked me on said couch, it's okay if you sleep in my bed with me."

I only shook my head, placing my hand on top of hers. "You didn't even want to know my name, which tells me that you probably aren't the type of woman to let men sleep in your bed with you after sex. Which is fine, don't get me wrong, but... I don't want to make you uncomfortable. And, I... I feel bad enough, I didn't help you clean up, I should have—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," she said, removing her hand from my cheek and placing it on my bare chest instead. "That right there is why I don't mind if you sleep in my bed. Plus, it's late, you don't have a ride, and I can tell you're sleepy because you've been nodding off as we've been standing here. You can barely stand straight."

I didn't know what to say. Probably because she was right and I was nodding off right now.

She spoke again. "At least stay and rest for a few hours before you leave. And if it'll convince you to stay... You can have the couch."

I smiled lazily, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. "I'll be gone before you wake up."

"Well... In that case, can... Can I kiss you one more time?"

"You can do anything you want to me," I told her truthfully, and not even a second passed before she pressed her lips to mine.

Despite everything we'd just done and the fact that I was almost asleep, it was the hottest kiss we shared that night. I was sure of it. It was lazy and wet, and so filled with the aftermath of all that we'd experienced together that I almost fell to my knees, and not because I was tired. Her tongue grazed mine in the most purposeful way I'd ever felt in a kiss my entire life. The way she held me to her, her hands weaved in my hair and mine pressed firmly to the small of her back, had me tingling from head to toe.

To this day, it's still the best kiss I've ever had.

I swore to myself I would never forget that kiss, and I never have. I couldn't have, even if I tried.

When she pulled away, I almost chased her, but I let her go, opening my eyes to stare deeply into hers. She didn't move for the longest time before clearing her throat and taking a small step back.

"Goodnight," she whispered softly. She looked almost as dazed as I felt.

"Goodnight," I whispered back as she turned around and padded into the darkness.

***

As I stood at her kitchen counter four hours later, a pen in hand and hovering over the back of a receipt she'd had crumpled on it, I tried to think of what to write, even though I knew it probably didn't matter to her one way or another if I said anything at all...

At the very least I wanted her to know just how much that night meant to me, even if she didn't feel the same way. Even if she didn't want to remember my name, I needed her to at least remember my face, remember what we did... Remember me...

I recalled the song she sang. And then I wrote it down.

I had the best night, thank you. Say you'll remember me... —S.

***

"Nothing lasts forever But this is gonna take me down."

—Taylor Swift, Wildest Dreams

***

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trentsleatherboots · 4 years ago

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Carach Angren, interview translation Dutch > English

Published in the magazine Rock Tribune, edition June 2020, nr. 192.

Text by Morbid Geert. Fotos: Stefan Heileman.

WILL THE REAL FRANKENSTEIN STAND UP NOW?

At the end of last year you could already read about how we kept close watch on Carach Angren. Back when they were still heavy in the production process, on Halloween Day we went over to Ardeks homebase and studio to see the first glimpse of their new work and later Rock Tribune got invited to listen to the album in Germany. Now it's almost time for 'Franckensteina Strataemontanus' to be shown to the world and that's why we wanted to take an even deeper look. Weaponed with an oil lamp and shovel we went onwards towards the graveyard to uncover the soul stirrings of Ardek. (Text: Morbid Geert)

---

Ardek, the last time I talked to you the songs were still in a very early stage and what we heard was more of a pre production. Did you tinker more afterwards to come to an end result or did you purposely keep your hands off to avoid overproduction?

"In terms of song structures and lyrics not much changed on the premature songs that you heard. What followed however was another production-finish, where especially the mix and mastering made a big change. That last stadia really lifted it all to another plane and you can really hear that."

A FRESH LOOK.

As far as I knew, Patrick Damiani was still fully onboard working on the songs at Tidal Wave Studio in Germany. How important was it for you to pull an extra producer into the process? After all, you are very much at home with that as well? Or maybe not as much as you'd like?

"Back then he worked on drumediting and played the basslines, but his role is way bigger than that. We've worked together a lot and now we're doing something for L'Âme Immortelle, where we vibe together perfectly and know exactly how to handle such a project. When he takes on production for Carach Angren however, I notice how much better he controls it. He has so much knowledge about drum sounds, mixing,... and he's really specialised in it. It is nice to add that knowledge, it brings a lot of added value. These days a lot of bands record at home and that all makes it a lot cheaper, but a good producer brings a lot of experience and equipment, it ends up with a whole different result. Besides, we left the mix and mastering to Robert Carranza."

That last one is a pretty big name, who among others worked with Marilyn Manson. I can imagine that has a big impact on your budget, but was it worth it?

"I think so. When I listened to 'Killing Strangers' by Marilyn Manson on headphones and heard the bassline, it went so deep that it turned me upside down. Apparently Robert Carranza mixed that album. Furthermore he does a lot of different things such as make latin music and win grammy's, but in the extreme metal scene he is totally unknown. However, he wanted to help himself to our record and yes, the price was steep, but I managed to convince both the band and the label… even though that wasn't without some doubts, since all eyes were on me for a bit. I had a good feeling about it and shared it, with the result being having a record now that doesn't sound like the others. He had a fresh look on our work and thus we could avoid the recognisability of the average metal producer. There are too many records that when you hear them you know exactly who had their hands on them and in which studio they were recorded. Contrary to what you might think, there was constant contact with him (Robert) and a lot of talking about how we wanted it to sound. In particular the clarity of the sound is massive and gives it a bit more of a cinematic effect. There was no compression applied where everything sounds constantly loud and where as a listener you'd get easily tired, but the dynamics were preserved."

DIDN'T FEEL LIKE IT ANYMORE.

To refer back to Patrick Damiani: if he does so much and even plays the basslines, do you see him as sort of a 4th band member or is that just a bit too much credit?

"That's not how we see him. He's an amazing producer and musician, who gives us his opinion and helps us out. On the other hand he is not part of the creative process and he isn't on stage with us… but it is a relationship that's been going on for 12 years and something we get a lot out of."

Now I'm saying '4th band member', but after the recordings of your new record ended, your brother and drummer Namtar left the band. Can I ask what happened and if you saw this coming, or whether it was a bolt from the blue?

“In November he recorded his drum tracks and back then everything went fine, but then there came an offer to play at '70000TONS OF METAL'. Since we always looked at the financial side of the band together, we talked about the offer and he was immediately against it. I thought that was strange and to me it seemed better to sit around the table with three to talk about it. Then it became apparent that he'd been wrestling with it for sometime and in brief didn't feel like it anymore. We offered him to take a break of a few months instead of just throwing away what we've worked for the last 20 years, but that wasn't a solution. It wasn't an easy decision, but afterwards we saw it had been an issue for a long time and at that point you rather put a stop to it. That hit us hard, but you can never force somebody to stay in a band. To keep our motivation high we played '70000TONS OF METAL' after all with Michiel van der Plicht of God Dethroned as replacement. That pleased us all and he's willing to help us out in the future."

Michiel van der Plicht in indeed an amazing drummer. Are there any plans to keep him in the band permanently or is this an emergency solution and is there an offer still standing?

"I discussed that extensively with Seregor, but together the two of us stay the core of the band. We already have an extra guitarist live and in the studio we will definitely have those people join again, but all decisions will be made by us two in the end. We want to avoid that other people leave a mark on the band, causing us to lose our individuality (personality). It's about so much more than just making music: the stage decor, our own stage outfits,... for us it is very clear and it's going well, so we only need help to fill in with the music in the studio and during lives."

MILKED OUT?

Let's get to the core of business. At the end of this month is the release of your 6th album, 'Franckensteina Strataemontanus'. Now lends the Frankenstein story itself perfectly for a horror metal band, but I wondered if the story isn't too milked out by other bands… unless you do it with a completely new vision. After all, that's what you did with 'This Is No Fairytale', where Hans and Gretel were transported to the now and the horror became bigger than ever.

"When we started, I had the same feelings about the Frankenstein story, but there's a twist to it. Everything started for me as a dream, where I flew through an old house. There, I heard dissonant piano tunes and I got sucked into a room where a portrait of an old man hung on the wall. Later I made a drawing of that portrait and it got stuck in my head. When I began doing research for the album months later and even read Mary Shelley's amazing book 'Frankenstein', I found out that there is a theory that when she wrote her book she was influenced by Johann Konrad Dippel, an 18th century alchemist. Then when I looked him up, he turned out to look like what I had seen in my dream, which personally motivated me to dig deeper. Dippel is an unknown figure for the masses and that's why it seemed fascinating to us to do something with it. There is fiction and truth mixed in our story. By the way, Dippel lived in Frankenstein Castle near Darmstadt, where he was looking for the elixir to eternal life. He was also a theologist, but he clashed with the church and was therefore cast away. Because he also did experiments on cadavers and sought life extending resources, he would've inspired Mary Shelley for her story. What we did was make a concept around the source of her story instead of following the clichés. That monster with screws in his head, we've seen it already before…"

Yet it doesn't seem like a concept album, because I notice that you address very diverse subjects.

"It is definitely a concept, since all stories are connected to one another, even if it's not noticeable. 'Operation Compass' is about the North-African desert war between the Brits and Italians. In official documents the Brits were ordered that if there were to be a fallback, to make all sources unusable for the enemy with 'Dippel's oil' (a nasty substance that made water undrinkable but did not poison it, so it was in battle with the Geneva protocols). In our story it leads to a demonic outburst that went towards the soldiers. So you see, Dippel comes back throughout different moments in history. 'Der Vampir von Nürnberg' is about a real figure that is still alive. He committed necrophilia, killed people and drank their blood, … but is now at large. In our story he lost his ways after reading Dippel's books, which once again links it with the core story. 'Here In German Woodland.', the opening song, is about a boy that gets lost and dies in the forest surrounding Darmstadt, but later comes back and eats his parents. In the closing song 'Like A Conscious Parasite I Roam' it all comes full circle: Dippels life elixir only works for his soul, and his body rots away, so he searches for a guest body and his spirit creeps into that little boy."

In a few songs, some German lyrics show up. Is that besides the concept also because of the grim sound of the language or is it simply because you live so close to Germany and it has a certain impact?

"The subject lends itself to it of course and Seregor speaks German very well, which made things easier. And yes, the sound does play a certain role. 'Der Vampir von Nürnberg' sounds way better than the English translation, it immediately sets the right tone."

Some of these stories are the result of reality, but are often at least as gruesome as many fantasy stories: such is the bonus song 'Frederick's Experiments' about the sick science experiments of emperor Frederick II, a man who apparently was not inferior to the Nazi doctors?

"Yes, you can say that he set a good example! Seregor came with the idea and somewhere the story did fit within the total picture, even though we couldn't fit it into the big story. Our label Season Of Mist however asked for a bonus track and that's how we managed to include the song after all."

CROSS-POLLINATION.

What I noticed with the first sneak preview, but what has become clear now, is that Carach Angren this time worked very innovative musically. Watch out, it is immediately clear that it is from Carach Angren, since you already have your own sound, but at the same time there are noticable things we haven't heard from you before. The title track has a considerable industrial touch and we also hear something from Laibach in it, just like 'Monster'. Is that something you've only recently been getting into or have you maybe secretly been an industrial fan for years?

"It is more recent, even though I've always been appreciative of it. By also collaborating with Till Lindemann for his project Lindemann, I also came into contact with it more and started taking it up unconsciously. Afterwards I got to experiment with it for my solo project and that's how I came up with the song 'Monster'. Seregor tested some things out for singing for that song and it just made sense. It was very cool to experiment like that, which you should when you're making a record based on Frankenstein…"

It became a musical experiment instead of scientific experiment, but you do create a parallel, yes.

"Inside Carach Angren we like to put a lot of variety in the songs and if you can also give that a different look, then that is something you should try. We ourselves are absolutely crazy about it! Some fans will have to swallow when they hear those songs, but for them there are plenty of old school songs on it."

To come back to Lindemann: he and Peter Tägtgren got you involved since you are so good with classical orchestras and arrangements, but in the end it seems to have become two-way traffic, doesn't it? Have you learned a lot from it and developed other visions?

"We worked together in a very awesome way and you do learn a lot from that. You grow as a componist, as musician and as producer. It made me compose more compactly and I sometimes pursue slightly less complex songs, like the two more industrial based songs. Always great to be able to take a different approach."

Both those songs have an easier buildup, but in the other songs you go back to the complexity that you left out purposefully 'Dance And Laugh Amongst The Rotten'. Is it a way to generate more contrast?

"In some ways yes, but it depends on how it works out in a song. We tried to make the title track a bit longer, but then the effect fell away and it didn't feel right anymore. But strangely enough I write a complex song like 'Der Vampir von Nürnberg' easier than a less complex piece like 'Monster'. With less arrangements it quickly becomes hard to keep it exciting(engaging), but seeing as you want to keep the concept to level, you need to have enough variation. The industrial songs sound a bit less complex, but there is a lot happening in the background and they are full of tiny details that make the difference."

MIXING COLOURS.

With the new approach you have opened some doors to maybe do more experimenting in the future. Is that actually your goal or is there nothing reasoned behind it and do such new influences pop up sooner when they seem to be able to improve the song?

"It all almost comes down to what the concept of the album requires. Back when we wrote 'Death Came Through A Phantom Ship' we added swirling waves and custom/adapted sounds to it. With the new record the 'marching' of the pulsing industrial beat seemed to work the best with our Frankenstein theme. You have to see it like a painter who is mixing colours to make a new colour to fit his vision. We don't do any different and we would love to experiment more in the future. If we see what we've already tried with singing now … in the long run we were completely out of control trying to do crazy things."

The singing is indeed a very remarkable part of 'Franckensteina Strataemontanus'. We always thought Seregor had a good black metal voice, but we were very impressed by the way he twisted his voice this time around and helped set the mood.

"We are very happy about that ourselves. He delivered an excellent job and we really pushed everything to get to that point. We actually took several weeks to make sure my home studio was in perfect condition and sometimes Seregor had to redo a certain part up to 10 times to get the result we wanted, but he did it without struggling. A lot of singers that ask so much from their vocal chords are dead on their feet after an hour, but then there is Seregor who gets through the day without complaining, even while screaming his lungs out. While recording 'Operation Compass' we did however find out it is better to record a deep grunt in the early morning, since your voice is still a bit slow and heavier from sleep.”

MUSIC AS A BOOST.

The whole corona crisis made it so that as a band it is way more difficult to promote an album now, since all concerts got cancelled. Did that have a big impact on Carach Angren or can you make it?

"I myself am very concerned with the people who are really affected by the disease and that is why I can partially ignore the inconveniences for ourselves. Nevertheless, it has a serious effect on the music industry, although that is secondary to me. We are dealing with a pandemic, people are dying and we all have to work to keep everything under control. In addition, it is strange to release an album in a full crisis, but we decided to go for it anyway. It's a cool record and we already started the promotion, so we just keep going. For now, tours are not planned, but that does not mean that we will now stream all kinds of performances to attract attention. We are not that type of band… what is a shame is that our plans for a very cool video clip are now also being abandoned. We had to go to Germany and there are also the social distancing rules, which make such a recording impossible. But should we really want that and turn it into drama? Of course it sucks to have to promote the release like this, but the whole world is just not what it was a few months ago."

Do you have any alternative ideas to bridge that gap? I know that you guys always have enough visual ideas and there already is a lyric video for 'Monster', but I can imagine that there is more to come.

"We are working on that yes, because last month we made one for 'Der Vampir von Nürnberg' and next month we might take another song in hand. We will keep doing those sorts of things together with some 'making of-' videos that we recorded in the studio, that way we can give the album some extra promotion. Nothing for us to worry about so… by the way, there is something about releasing a record in times like these. The people have been stuck at home for months and have nothing to do, so if we can give them a new piece of music to listen to to get through the day, then that is awesome too. It would be disappointing for the fans if we just put our new work on the shelf because of this pandemic. Every band should do what they think is best, but we had already started our press campaign anyway and we would also be a lot less driven if we only had to arrive 'with old stuff' within six months or later."

Carach Angren already has a few beautiful video clips which are build up with a real story and don't only have something musical to offer. In addition, there are also the lyric videos, where certainly those for the complete album 'This Is No Fairytale' with comic images by Costin Chioreanu stand out from the crowd. Have you never thought of bundling everything on a DVD?

"We've honestly never thought about that, but that's actually a really great idea! I think it would be nice to bundle everything together and that way we immediately remove some (away) from youtube. That can always be a good idea for the future."

LEARNING SCHOOL.

As songwriter of Carach Angren you may have previously absorbed a lot of influences that shaped you into the musician and songwriter you are today. Can you list the five most essential records or artists that shaped you personally and what exactly were their interests?

"That is a good question that doesn't let itself be answered very easily. In the classical field and orchestras I think Tchaikovsky and Stravinski are very important. They both had a lot of influence on me as a componist. Another important inspiration to me in that respect is John Williams (modern componist famous for his film scores for Star Wars, Jaws, Jurassic Park..) They helped shape me even more when it comes to layered composing, although I don't come close to what they do. As a child I followed keyboard lessons for 8 years, I did a year of conservatory and studied a year of music and media, as well as cinematic orchestration. Those last two were online, but on a serious level and you really had to write pieces for an orchestra. I learned a lot there, but ever since then I kept learning by actually doing it myself, looking through books and analyzing musical pieces. But if I hadn't gotten the theoretical basis I had as a child, I would've never been able to do this today. On production level I have to mention Nine Inch Nails and, something you'd might find strange, Michael Jackson! If you see how well their albums are produced, and how many layers are incorporated, it's amazingly well done! You can say about Michael Jackson's music what you want, but the way the songs are built up and how much dynamics are in there thanks to the arrangements by Quincy Jones, it is absolutely astounding. There is no lack of bells and whistles and sometimes, for example, the snare drum comes in in four layers, something you don't hear so loudly even in extreme metal. I mainly listen to those albums as an audiophile to analyze them and see what I can get out of it as a producer. Last week I checked the solo record of Roger Waters, in which I heard effects that seemed to be situated outside the loudspeaker field. Then I want to know how that is done and whether I can integrate it with Carach Angren. That kind of thing is the reverse of the compression they use too often today and you wonder why we don't all go in that direction anymore."

---

Translated by Jeordie/Trentsfishnets.

(For the record, if this interview already exists in English, I will just see this as translating practice C:)

#carach angren #metal #death metal #black metal #european metal #carach angren interview #carach angren 2020 #corpse paint #new black metal #Dennis Droomers #Dennis Seregor Droomers #Clemens Ardek Wijers #Clemens Wijers #Seregor #Ardek #Ivo Namtar Wijers #Ivo Wijers

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cantquitu · 4 years ago

Text

Music Week, 15 December 2020

Tom Hull began writing as Kid Harpoon during the noughties indie boom, and is now surfing the crest of a wave, as the songs he helped shape on Harry Styles’ Fine Line smash have defined 2020. Joined by Universal Music Publishing Group’s Mike McCormack and manager Jeffrey Azoff, our Songwriter Of The Year reveals how he became a unique modern hitmaker...

I remember eating cold baked beans in Nambucca a few times,” says Tom Hull, shuddering at his music industry past. “I really didn’t have much money.”

In fact, says the songwriter and producer who goes by Kid Harpoon, “I was definitely skint.”

Music Week congratulates Hull on all this at the start of a conversation to celebrate his Songwriter Of The Year honour, immediately prompting him to remember Nambucca and his days scrabbling to launch his Kid Harpoon songs, a lively mix of folk, punk and pop.

“If someone had told me then that I’d be doing this, I’d have been fucking over the moon,” he says. “I was talking to someone the other day about when I got nominated for an Ivor Novello for [Florence & The Machine’s] Shake It Out. I was doing sessions for Dizzee Rascal and I remember telling Cage, his manager, that it was the first thing I’d been nominated for. He said, ‘You’ve got to be nominated for fucking loads, mate, before you win, don’t get too excited’.” I remember thinking, ‘What?’ And since then, I’ve been nominated for this and that and never won. The day after I had that conversation, Mike McCormack from Universal Publishing phoned me and said, ‘Music Week called, you’ve won Songwriter Of The Year’. I was like, ‘Fucking yes! I’ve won something. It’s taken eight years, but I’m stoked.”

Adele was emerging at the same time as Kid Harpoon, and Hull says that her manager, Jonathan Dickins, once told him, “You never learn from your successes, you only learn from your failures.” He also says that he and Caius Pawson at Young Turks have spoken about how they “made every mistake” with his record. But that often brutal experience – he was acclaimed and popular among his peers but never quite cut through – means he can relate to the artists he works with on a deeper level. He’s in tune with their anxieties. All of which makes his delight at hitting the big leagues all the more intense. Some of the Kid Harpoon classics have been dusted off, too: Stealing Cars made it onto a Gucci playlist, while Styles would play Riverside to arena crowds on tour before going on stage. “Harry thought it was funny,” Hull says, smiling.

Universal Music Publishing Group’s UK MD is equally made up that the spotlight is shining on a writer signed by A&R consultant Frank Tope in 2010. Mike McCormack helped renew the deal in 2017, and praises Tope along with Darryl Watts and Taylor Tester in the US for their part in what is now a worldwide success story.

“Tom is a brilliant bloke, I’m telling you, he was over the moon when I told him,” McCormack says. “In the scene he came from, his best mates were Adele and Florence, he watched them go off to stratospheric success and stuck to it, ground it out and believed in himself. Finally, 10 years later, he’s getting the recognition.”

In fact, McCormack likens Hull to Steve Mac – recipient of this honour in 2018 – saying, “The best guys never really get the recognition, they’re not self-publicists.”

Now, the time has come for Tom Hull to self-publicise the bejesus out of himself, and we have a riotous time as he does so. He’s on such a roll during a long, meandering conversation that he steps in something nasty outside partway through. Hull is up in Scotland with his wife and two children, and he’s having a wander while he takes Music Week through his story so far, and unravels his special bond with Harry Styles.

Hull has spent much of the past three years working with Styles, and went into the relationship with some serious experience behind him. Grammy-nominated in 2016 for Florence + The Machine’s What Kind Of Man, he has worked with a range of acts including (deep breath) Jessie Ware, Calvin Harris, Haim, Shakira, Skrillex, Lily Allen, Years & Years, James Bay, Mabel and Shawn Mendes. Indeed, Mendes’ Wonder album was one of Hull’s primary 2020 projects. Like Fine Line, Wonder was completed with Hull at the epicentre of a small, secluded team. Clearly, Fine Line, recorded primarily in Rick Rubin’s Shangri-La in Malibu and Real World in Bath by Styles, Hull, Tyler Johnson and Mitch Rowland, has become a blueprint, a crystallisation of everything he thought he knew, backed by millions of record sales.

“It’s huge, it’s a defining moment for me,” he says. “I’ve always known that writing as part of a project is a big thing in what I do because it gets the most out of the artist and out of me. It’s digging in with the artist and discovering things. I don’t like to think that I’m very dominant in the studio like, ‘Do this, do that, do this’. I work with people and find what makes them special and unique.”

Hull worked on Styles’ debut, but Fine Line was his first full album project since his own. And now he’s done a similar thing with Mendes, more will follow.

“In the past, I’d found that you’d write songs and, if someone else was producing them, they might not quite get the vision you had with the artist and things could take a wrong turn quite easily,” he says. “It was big for me to bring everything that I’d learned to work with Harry on helping his project come together in a way that was like, ‘Right, we’ve got this, it’s something exciting.’ It feels like a bit of a watershed moment, I’ve found what gets the most out of me and it feels quite seamless.”

Seamless is a nice fit for Hull’s style. Earlier this year, pre-lockdown, he went for a coffee with Mendes, “Just to see what happened”, and before he knew it they were in his home studio. He’d barely blinked and they were in New York, writing more songs, and then, after lockdown hit, they were isolated together working on Wonder in Carmel, California.

This, says Hull’s manager Jeffrey Azoff, illustrates his magic. “Part of what makes him such a good songwriter and producer is that he’s such a good person that you’re immediately disarmed, no matter who you are,” he says. “You get a sense of comfort and respect right away. It’s more than nice, he has a calming effect on anybody he’s around.

“I’m telling you, that’s his secret sauce,” Azoff continues. “His ability to disarm and make you fall in love immediately has carried him a long way. When you combine that with his talent, I’m not surprised to see him doing so well.”

Azoff, who took Hull on as his second client after Styles and keeps the songwriter’s diary calm to give him time and space to focus, also makes a point of praising his talent. “I’m never in the room, but everyone tells me he’s a virtuoso,” he says. “I’ll ask who played guitar on a certain track or who played drums on a different one, and it’s funny how often I’ve cited a different instrument and Tom’s been the one playing it.”

Hull’s success is no surprise to anyone who knows him, but events in 2020 have conspired to make it feel pre-ordained. He, Styles and their team have shown that a record made in isolation can be a smash hit, and its singles went on to fly in a year when isolation became a theme for the whole world. This year, too, Music Week research showed that the number of songwriters behind the Top 100 UK hits had decreased from 5.34 in 2018, to 4.77 in 2019. All of which reflects a move towards more thought, more time and fewer collaborators – cornerstones of Hull’s approach. His work this year has also borne that out. We can’t reveal who else he’s been working with (the names are massive), but we can tell you that Hull has been ‘bubbling’ in a safe way with different artists all year.

“I’ve found a real stride in doing projects as opposed to jumping around doing lots of little things,” he says. “The thing that gets the most out of me and people I work with is when you take the anxiety out of having to deliver something in two days and you commit to a week or longer. Then you can experiment, you can be cynical and try something more commercial if you want, or you can go really left. It’s lots more fluid. For me, 2020 has been more conducive to that. Normally, everyone’s got a million things going on. As much as I love working like that, it doesn’t always pan out.”

Hull’s sensitivity meant that he didn’t get involved in the rush for remote sessions earlier this year. “To me, there’s a lot of emotion involved and artists have a lot of anxiety, maybe something to get off their chest or something they’re insecure about, I find that hard to figure out via Zoom,” he reasons.

He has a group of close friends in the game, songwriters of all levels, and their group chats this year have revolved around the idea of artists, songwriters and producers reconnecting with their roots. “At the beginning of Covid, I was working on some production stuff, but I was also re-learning songs, on piano and guitar,” he says. “There’s been a lot of that going on and it’s sparking a more music-centric writing process, as opposed to listening to the radio and reacting to what’s happening right now.”

Hull says that, instead of rushing around obsessing over the latest chart smash, songwriters are starting to take their time. “I’ve had artists this year coming in saying, ‘I’ve just learned this…’ And you’re like, ‘Woah’,” he says. “It’s easy to get reactive to the current music, but because the world slowed down, people looked backwards at things they grew up with and worked on their skills. The real exciting stuff will be when the world resumes, people will get back into that busy thing, but they will have reconnected.”

Harry Styles understands how to connect with Kid Harpoon better than anyone. Last year, during rehearsals with his band, Styles spoke to Music Week for our cover interview and his comments about Hull and the musicians who made Fine Line hit home all the more now. “There’s a language where if I describe what I want something to sound like, they know how to make it happen, which I think is really priceless,” he said. “It’s pretty rare these days to have a producer or writer who cares about your album as much as you do. It creates a thing where it’s about the album being the best it can be, rather than songwriters’ cuts.”

Once again, we circle back to the idea of Tom Hull’s methods and values standing apart. More than just a watershed for him, Fine Line is giving writers everywhere plenty to think about.

“It’s a hard market [for pop] at the moment, you have a lot of hip-hop on the radio and it’s changed with Covid,” says Hull. “If you look at records like Taylor Swift [Folklore] and Shawn, it feels to me like more of those big pop artists are looking to explore where they came from and what got them excited about music. I definitely saw that with Shawn and you can hear it with the Taylor record. Artists are going back to their roots and working with fewer people.”

For McCormack, the story is quite simple. “Sometimes there’s a bit of a demarcation between songwriter and artist, a career songwriter can sometimes not just have that empathy that someone who’s been an artist has,” he says. “Because Tom tried very hard for a very long time to be a success on his own terms, he can completely understand what an artist is going through. Harry was really brave to go down that road and Tom was brave to commit his last three years to making it work. Most publishers and songwriters work on the basis of, ‘If I work on a load of projects, I’ve got a lot more chance of success’. He’s decided to put all of his eggs in one basket, and look at the result. It’s been an extraordinary success.”

For Hull, his favourite Fine Line moments are those that chime with the very reason he ever picked up an instrument or wrote lyrics in the first place (plus the “glorified lads’ trip” he and Styles took to Japan to write songs, one of which he says may yet see the light of day). He takes us back to the kitchen in Shangri-La, sunshine streaming in and Styles on an acoustic guitar, strumming the three chords of Golden.

“We were just singing the main, ‘Da, da, da’ melody doing harmonies,” he says. “For everyone that’s around music, sometimes when you play, you can’t help but grin because it just feels so good. We were all smiling, drinking tequila and singing Golden. It was one of those moments where, you think, ‘If all else fails, this is worth it because this is fun, this is what music should be about and this is how records should be made’. That’s how you make records. You can arrive at one, finish at six, hammer it out and get great songs that way, but for me, those memories and the culture we had was the special thing about it. I don’t know if that made it stand out, but that’s how we did it and I think it translated.”

Given the all-encompassing level on which Fine Line has resonated, it’s surprising to hear what Hull says next. “Harry’s like a brother to me, he’s been such a big part of what I do, behind the scenes as well,” he explains. “I learned so much from him about how to be brave. Our big thing was, if it fails and everything tanks, if you make a record that you absolutely love, then you still have something you will stand by. The danger is if you try and make one that pleases some people, and it tanks, then you don’t like that record.”

The fact that the album turned platinum ahead of its first birthday in a year that saw the campaign soar without the boost of a world tour shows their instincts were right. Crucially, it also leaves Hull with the world at his feet.

“The first time I met him, you could see the determination and the charisma,” says McCormack. “He’s so likeable. Artists just love him. This is the beginning of him being a proper global, premier league writer and producer.”

“I couldn’t be more proud of Tom,” says Azoff. “He’s gaining confidence and he’s getting even better, which is scary.”

Our story finishes back in Nambucca, where Hull first started. He’s come rather a long way since. “It’s a totally different ball game,” he smiles. “Now, I’m trying to pull something out of someone and using all my experience to help a vision come together. I get to do things I like, I’ve done things with Skrillex, Calvin Harris, Florence, and written pop songs with Harry that have gone massive. It’s that fulfillment of jumping into new things. It’s a journey of figuring out what you’re good at, and I feel I’m getting closer to that now. It seems to be kicking in… And it definitely pays a lot better!”

#tom hull #kid harpoon #songwriter of the year #music week

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shelovescontrol91 · 3 years ago

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Between a starring role in Cinderella, live performances, and a forthcoming album, it would appear things are business as usual for Camila Cabello. But there’s a difference: Before the pandemic her work was leaving her drained, anxious, and insecure. Now she’s found a way to be a pop star on her own terms, and everything—from the music to her relationship with her body—has fallen into place.

By mid-September, Camila Cabello was feeling burnt out. In the span of three days she had performed at the MTV Video Music Awards, attended the Met gala with boyfriend Shawn Mendes, and shot the first-ever global cover for Glamour. So when she finally returned home to Miami, rest wasn’t just desired—it was essential.

But rehearsals for New York’s Global Citizen Festival loomed. Before jumping back into pop star mode, Cabello put on a yellow bikini and headed to the beach for two hours of blissfully uninterrupted downtime. She sank into a chair and cracked open a book, her favorite pastime. The salty air enveloped her; waves crashed in the distance. This is why she lives in Miami, her hometown, as opposed to a showbiz hub like Los Angeles: more privacy.

Or so she thought. Somehow the paparazzi found out where she was for those 120 minutes. She didn’t see them at first, but there they were, snapping away.

“I didn’t consent to those pictures,” she tells me over Zoom, camera off as she drives in Miami. (At one point she says to someone on the road, “Why are you honking at me, bro?”) “I got my period on the beach. I’m in a bikini and on my period, so I don’t know if I have a fucking period stain and that’s going to be everywhere. I didn’t sign up for anybody to be taking pictures of me in a bikini.”

Cabello has developed methods for dealing with invasive situations like this. She’s had to. The 24-year-old—born in Cuba, raised in Miami—has been in the public eye since 2012, when she competed on The X-Factor. She auditioned as a solo artist but was later matched with four other girls to form the pop group Fifth Harmony. They released two albums before Cabello embarked on her own—and achieved mind-boggling fame. Her singles “Havana” and “Señorita” (with Mendes) topped the charts worldwide. She’s earned three Grammy nominations, become a face of L’Oréal, and tried her hand at not just acting but starring in a feature film: this year’s Cinderella remake on Amazon Prime. Her third studio album, Familia, is due out later this year.

By all accounts it’s a lot. Careerwise it’s the closest things have felt to prepandemic times, when she was working constantly, arguably to an exhausting degree. As COVID-19 shutdowns went into effect last March, Cabello was able to realize just how tired she was.

“I by no means am trying to complain,” she says, “but it was such a thing of, ‘I have to get onstage tomorrow and I’m performing at this big thing,’ or whatever. ‘I want to do a good job. How do I do that when I feel nervous?’ I did this without being like, ‘Am I even happy right now? Do I even feel healthy?’ I didn’t have the space to ask myself those questions. I’m still working a ton now, but after quarantine I’m able to be like, ‘You know what? Right now I’m just not happy. I need to change something.’”

Therapy helped her see the changes she needed to make. Cabello tells me she’d experimented with therapy before the pandemic, but it was always situation focused—quick fixes to help her tackle the next performance or songwriting session. But with time at home, she dug deeper: “Because I wasn’t stressed about all the things I needed to do the next day, I was able to slow down and have enough stability to look at my stuff.”

Cabello doesn’t expand on what that “stuff” is. She does, however, explain why she decided to switch therapists as her internal work continued. “I wasn’t feeling like I was progressing in the areas I wanted to progress,” she says. “But when I switched, I found I was able to apply what they said in a way that benefited my mental health.”

One lesson she’s learned is the power of saying no. Two hit albums under her belt give Cabello the freedom to do things her way. Now she always has one day off a week, minimum. And when time came to start work on Familia, she forwent the standard pop music factory for a more intimate approach. The new album was made with just a handful of collaborators she could be open with. If Cabello was feeling anxious or nervous in a session, she had the space to address it. As a result, she says, it’s her best work yet.

“It’s the most grounded and calm I’ve ever been making an album,” she says. “I worked with people I wanted to have dinner with, and I was like, ‘I’m not going to write every single day for months, but write a few days a week and have time to gather experiences and be a human being.’”

Shawn Mendes is one of the people she’s gathering experiences with. The two singers confirmed their relationship in September 2019, and they’ve been tabloid magnets ever since. Everything from their laughably slow pandemic walks to their kissing style is dissected with a fine-tooth comb. A clip of them getting ready for the Met gala went instantly viral.

Cabello tells me she and Mendes try to avoid the social media chatter about their relationship, but it inevitably seeps in. “When stuff that’s negative is out there, it’s going to get to you,” she says. “So yeah, that’s very, very challenging. I feel like it’s another thing therapy has been really helpful for.”

Mendes goes to therapy too. While Cabello says she and Mendes haven’t done couples therapy—though she’d be open to it—they very much work on their mental health together.

“For better, for worse, we’re very transparent with each other. I think that’s why we can trust each other so much, because it’s a very 3D human relationship,” she says. “I’ll be venting or ranting about something, and he’ll be like, ‘Have you talked to X about it?’ And I’ll be like, ‘No. I’ve got to do a session.’ And he’ll do the same thing to me. I think even just the language of being like, ‘Hey, I’m sorry that I’ve been distant with you or snappy with you. I’m just struggling and I’m feeling kind of anxious.’ That level of transparency really helps a lot.”

Mendes echoes Cabello’s thoughts. “Camila and I give each other an extreme amount of patience and understanding,” he tells me via email. “I think the truth is that when you’re struggling with mental health, it turns you sometimes into the version of yourself that you don’t like to be—and kind of loving and accepting your person through that, and being there for them through that, is life-changing. We give each other so much space and understanding and patience.”

A behind-the-scenes VMAs story perfectly illustrates this. When Cabello was nervous meeting new people at an after-party, she caught herself leaning on a habit she’s trying to break. Mendes helped her through it.

“I have this pattern of eating a lot when I’m anxious or uncomfortable,” she says. “It’s a comfort thing for me. I’ll just kind of become unconscious and zombie-eat a lot, and then I’ll feel sick. I’ve told Shawn about that. So at the VMAs party, I was like, ‘I’m doing it.’ And he was like, ‘It’s okay. You’re doing it. That’s okay. Let’s just take a breath and not do that.’ It’s really good for me to be able to talk about my patterns with someone.”

Food and body image are two things that have really been on Cabello’s mind this year. A July TikTok she posted shutting down body-shamers racked up 4.8 million likes. “Being at war with your body is so last season,” she says in the video, which she posted after photos of her running in Los Angeles made the rounds online.

That mantra is true, sure, but it’s easier said than done. Even Cabello has difficulty following it. She braced herself for what she might feel when those aforementioned bikini pics went live: “I need to work out. I need to eat better.” “Not that those things are bad,” she says. “But maybe I wouldn’t think about them as much if there weren’t people taking pictures of me.”

It’s not just the paparazzi who ignite moments of self-doubt. Cabello tells me about a time she was exercising with her trainer, Jenna Willis—who’s great, she says—and feeling insecure. “She’s the same height as me, and I was kind of comparing myself to her, because she is a lot skinnier than I am,” she recalls. “I was just like, ‘Yeah, but I’ve been working out and I look better, right? I look better, right?’”

It’s Willis who helped silence those voices in Cabello’s head, reminding her that how she feels is more important than appearances; that life is about balance and enjoying food. These are health philosophies we’ve all heard—but when you’re Camila Cabello and millions are picking apart your beach photos, it’s hard to tune out the noise. Now when she’s feeling down on herself, she just turns her phone off and goes outside.

“When I’m having negative thoughts about my body, that’s actually when I’ll want to binge-eat cookies, and then I have a stomachache,” she says. “It’s this weird psychology: The more I love my body, the more I actually want to take care of it…. As long as I’m healthy and working out and feel good, that’s the best I can do. There’s no point in trying to have another kind of body.”

By this point in our conversation, Cabello’s made it to her destination. When I ask if she’ll have time to chill and decompress, she says, “To be honest, not yet, but I will after this weekend.” There’s a calmness in her voice when she says this—a stillness, a readiness. She seems perfectly prepared for what lies ahead: album promo, performances, and undoubtedly more scrutiny about her body, her relationship, her everything. But she’ll be fine, because just around the corner is a day off. That’s nonnegotiable.

“It’s important to be on top of not just what’s making you sad or anxious, but also what’s giving you joy,” she says. “I want to be happy and enjoy my life. That’s kind of it.”

#camila cabello #shawn mendes #shawmila

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iwanthermidnightz · 4 years ago

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*As usual, below I’m sharing excerpts from this article that are noteworthy*

What may come as a surprise to the band’s fans is the news that T.J., 36, is gay. This isn’t a recent revelation for him; he’s known since he was young, and he’s been out to family and friends in his tight-knit Nashville community for years. In some respects, he says, coming out publicly is no big deal. “I’m very comfortable being gay,” he says later, in a quiet room at the office of his management company. “I find myself being guarded for not wanting to talk about something that I personally don’t have a problem with. That feels so strange.”

But his reservations are understandable, given that country music remains a bastion of mainstream conservatism in American arts and culture. If liberal Hollywood is notorious for pushing a progressive agenda, country has historically been its counterpoint—a safe haven for traditional “family values.” Never mind that many country artists, like Nashville as a city, lean blue: They know that their primary market, like the state of Tennessee itself, skews red. The country music business is lucrative, generating $5.5 billion to Nashville’s economy alone, according to RIAA; if artists speak out, they run the risk of alienating listeners, particularly in an era when even anodyne statements of support for a cause can be misconstrued. The tale of the Chicks, formerly the Dixie Chicks, who were exiled after criticizing the Iraq War, looms large over country music. Taylor Swift even cited the band’s ouster as a reason she remained publicly apolitical for so long: “You’re always one comment away from being done,” she told Variety in a 2020 interview.

With this news, T.J. becomes the only openly gay artist signed to a major country label—a historic moment for the genre. He’s had predecessors, of course: Other openly queer artists, from Grammy-winning singer-songwriter Brandi Carlile to masked cowboy Orville Peck to viral hitmaker Lil Nas X, have found success by integrating country influences into their genre-defying music, and country artists including Chely Wright and Billy Gilman have passionate fanbases. But T.J. may be the first to come out with his feet so firmly planted in both the sound and machinery of mainstream country, in the full bloom of his career.

He is worried that coming out will look opportunistic, or attention-seeking. “People will ask, ‘Why does this even need to be talked about?’ and personally, I agree with that,” he says. “But for me to show up at an awards show with a man would be jaw-dropping to people. It wouldn’t be like, ‘Oh, cool!”

What happens next remains to be seen. “I don’t think I’m going to get run off the stage in Chicago,” he says. “But in a rural town playing a county fair? I’m curious how this will go.” The professional risks he’s taking in coming out feel worth it, both for his own happiness and because, well, it’s time. Country music is about storytelling, and that means T.J.’s identity is inextricable from his music. Maybe, T.J. says, country isn’t the most popular genre among gay people. “But is that just because they’ve never had the opportunity to relate to it?”

But being closeted was painful. “It was so lonely and isolating,” T.J. says. “It made me resent people.” A first heartbreak in his early twenties crushed him all the more because he felt like he couldn’t tell anyone. “I was mad that no one knew why I was hurting,” he says. He channeled that anguish into his music. One song he wrote about that relationship, called “21 Summer,” has become a fan favorite, and you can see why: It’s a big, nostalgic singalong with lyrics about cutoff jeans and hair blowing in the breeze. It’s still tender for him—not just heartbreak, but how alone he was going through it. “There are so many times I’ve sung that song and wanted to cry,” he says. “People love that song, but the emotion of it is deeper than they even realize.”

As Brothers Osborne’s career grew, they made gestures toward inclusion, starting with the video for single “Stay a Little Longer,” which featured gay and interracial couples. For the most part, the response was overwhelmingly positive. “And then,” T.J. says, “there were people who were like, ‘Faggot lovers!’” This kind of reaction was especially discouraging for T.J., even amid the affirmation he had received from his family and friends. But staying publicly closeted was suffocating too—not only for him, but for the guys he dated. “Saying, ‘Hey, don’t hold my hand. Someone I know is in here, so can you wait in the car?’” he says. “Rightfully, they would feel unwanted by me.”

The months spent in lockdown due to the pandemic forced some introspection, and he realized the perfect moment to come out would never arrive; he had to create it for himself. “I want to get to the height of my career being completely who I am,” he says, then stops. “I mean, I am who I am, but I’ve kept a part of me muted, and it’s been stifling.”

But there’s also a chance that T.J.’s openness will widen the field for new fans to feel welcome. “Others will now feel invited to the country music party for the first time,” says T.J.’s close friend Kacey Musgraves, the singer-songwriter whose progressive-minded storytelling has helped earn her a mainstream fanbase. “Country music deserves a future even more honest than its past.”

When Ellen DeGeneres came out on the cover of this magazine in 1997, it was shocking to many—both the act of coming out, and how visible she made herself with it. Now, the tides have turned toward quieter declarations of identity, particularly as young people embrace more fluid expressions of sexuality and gender. For high-profile people, a high-profile coming-out has mostly fallen out of favor; a public figure might be as likely now to mention their queerness offhandedly on social media as they are to make a formal announcement. It’s a way of both controlling the message, and also, maybe, of minimizing it.

Even amid calls for greater inclusion, the homogeneity of the top artists in the genre is still striking. “Any steps that have been taken have been purposefully kept small enough to not ruffle feathers at country radio,” says Musgraves.

So I ask T.J. a question, which is: What if there is nothing to move on from? What if being gay is a gift, and your gayness is not something to be tolerated but something to be celebrated, and even if untangling the shame and confusion of growing up gay in a straight world takes a long time, it’s worth doing so you can use your voice, not only to sing songs about cutoff jeans and hair blowing in the breeze but to say, clearly and unapologetically, that this is who you are? What if there are a lot of gay boys in small towns who haven’t figured it out yet and feel overwhelmed by snarky TV sidekicks and glittery pop stars bellowing self-empowerment anthems, and what if those gay boys in small towns got to have an avatar of their own—if they knew that someone like them was singing that song about cutoff jeans and hair blowing in the breeze on the radio? Isn’t that why we spend so much time talking about representation, because as much as it’s a burden, it’s also the only antidote to the loneliness of being different? And—not to tell him how to feel, which is, of course, exactly what I’m doing—but isn’t this occasion, of owning who he is in a place where some people might prefer he didn’t exist, something to embrace instead of something to endure?

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