#god i LOVE the slow burn i love TO SEE the subtle changes within their interactions SO MUCH ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

[usertoxicyaoi]

"Can I ask you a question?"

TWINS (2023). Episode 5.

[feyhunter78]

Final Chapter - You have wed and the guest have gone, but the Dragon Queen has stayed. Perhaps it is time to visit Dorne.

NSFW content below the cut

The Dragon Queen remains a guest of The Rock, moons after the other attendees have returned home. It is not unpleasant, but you find yourself on edge around her. She has been nothing but polite, kind even but Jon’s words ring in your head. How many times will he be asked to break his oath? How many times can House Lannister change sides until they are no longer trusted? King Stannis was stern yes, and dour, but he was not cruel, not like Joffrey or the stories you heard of the Mad King.

And Jon, gods above Jon distrusts her all the more. For it was her brother that stole his mother away, her father who burned his uncle and grandsire alive. He is polite as well, but avoids her. It is subtle, mostly, though there are times Jon will simply leave a room when Daenerys enters, Ghost trotting behind him. This leaves you torn between staying to make excuses on his behalf, or fleeing as well to soothe Jon’s storm of emotions.

You have yet to see the dragons, yet to hear them, and you are quite sure you would rather it stays that way, the tales you have been regaled with are terrifying enough. Though your father, who had loved dragons since he was a child, swore to you, they were in the vicinity, camped out on an island nearby. They could stay there, their mother could join them, you wanted no part in this, not when you had finally gotten all you desired.

You find Jon hunched over his writing desk, quill in hand, inkwell closed, the parchment blank before him. He has done this many times, and you are never quite sure what or who he is intending to write.

“You know, usually one must first wet the quill before attempting to write.” You say, as you lean against the desk, and remove the inkwell’s stopper.

He sets down his quill and sighs, pushing his chair away from the desk, his head falling back, his neck extended and exposed. “I was not truly going to write anything, I simply…” He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair.

“I know this has been difficult for you, perhaps we should visit your father in Starfell, put some distance between us and whatever fresh torture is brewing amongst the lords?” You suggest, replacing the stopper and putting away his quill.

Jon grabs your hand and brings it to his lips, his grown-out stubble tickles your skin. “Could we even do that? Would it be right?”

You slide between him and the desk to seat yourself in his lap, looping your arms around his neck. “What is right can be subjective at times.”

He gives you a confused look, his handsome face tanned from his time in the sun, his curls luxurious and scented with oils from Dorne. His broad chest well-fitted in fabrics you purposely did not tell him the price of, because you knew he would refuse to wear them on principle. He has thrived at The Rock, and satisfaction purrs within you at the sight.

“In the eyes of the realm it would not be right, you and I, together before your parentage was revealed, but it was right to us—or at least to me, I know you struggled with the idea.”

Jon’s hands settle on your waist as he listens intently, always so intently.

“If we had done what the realm thought was right, you and I would not be, and I cannot fathom a world where you and I apart is correct. So maybe it is wrong to leave, maybe it is not, all I care about is if I am with you, wrong or right.”

He kisses you gently, a brief fleeting thing, but no less filled with affection than his searing, lingering ones. “We could go, for a while, not too long, just a visit.”

You return the kiss, hands cradling his face, lifting it up towards you. “Not too long, not too short, we shall stay as long as you desire, Husband.”

He hums contentedly, pulling you closer, his lips against yours a slow languid movement, sweet and unhurried, caresses of unspoken affection and whispered promises.

Your head spins when you pull away for air, and Jon’s lips chase after yours, aching to recapture them as his hands begin to ghost over your sides, fingertips counting each inhale and exhale.

“Promise me we will do this in Starfell.” He says, his chest rising and falling as he catches his own breath.

“We shall do this and more if it pleases you.” You promise him, heart skipping a beat when his eyes darken.

A wolfish smile appears on his kiss swollen lips. “Aye, it would.”

Your back is cushioned by a mountain of pillows, all swathed in fabrics of red and orange, a golden stringed tassel caught in your grip as you dig your nails into a nearby pillow, desperately taking in air. “Jon, oh gods—”

He does not respond, his dark curls, his shoulders and strong arms are the only parts of him you can see. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you open and still, unable to squirm away as he devours you. His wondrous mouth on you, his tongue making you see stars, his fingers digging into your skin so tight you know there will be bruises, but you care not.

He nips at your inner thigh before wrapping his lips around your bud, his tongue moving in some nonsensical way that sends a bolt of lightning through you. Sparks of lust flying from your skin, a desperate yearning building within you again.

The sun is still high in the sky, streaming in through the large window, the scent of Orange Blossoms drifting on the breeze, accented voices and hurried footsteps come from below, but you pay no mind, and neither does Jon. His movements are unhurried, indulgent, groans of pleasure vibrating against your folds.

He is bare from the waist up, shoulders and back are marred with nail marks, your nail marks, reddened lines and half-moons. You tangle your free hand in his hair, yanking him impossibly closer, urging him to move faster, to release one of your thighs and coax your second release forward with his skilled fingers.

“So impatient.” He chuckles, lifting his head, his lips shiny with your arousal, as he does just what you desired, two long fingers slipping in with ease, stroking and curling until pleasure seizes you, driving all thought from your mind.

You whine in response, tugging harder on his curls. A flicker of pride going through you at the way Jon’s hips roll against the bed, a groan escaping him.

Jon returns to your core, tip of his tongue tracing shapes and symbols on your bud as his fingers coax you higher and higher. He slips in a third, and your walls clench around him, your breath catching in your throat.

Gods you want him to ravish you, to tear your flimsy Dornish gown from your body and pound into you until there is an imprint of your body in the pillows.

Then you shatter, coming undone into his strong grip, breathless and shaking, as you push up on your elbows to see Jon still desperate. His eyes meeting yours as he ruts against the bed, his head dropping forward, his forehead resting against your thigh, panting heavily as he finishes.

You lay there spent as he joins you on the bed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “We have dinner with my father soon.”

“I am sure he does not mind waiting.” You smile, pulling him back in with a leg hooked around his hips.

A cry from the chamber next to yours sends you both sitting up in bed, the night dark, the moon a mere sliver amongst the clouds.

You arise first, wrapping a robe around yourself and trudging sleepily into the nursery. Lyon, your son, with his thick dark curls and vibrant green eyes, is wide awake, kicking up a fuss in his bassinet. Leaning down, you scoop him up, and hold him close to your chest, shushing him gently.

Jon joins you soon, wrapping his arms around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder. “He is surely a lion with a cry like that.”

“I think he is more a wolf with all his howling.” You jest softly, stroking Lyon’s cheek.

He is beautiful, a perfect mixture of you and Jon, born in Starfell, while a third revolt took place in the rest of the kingdoms. Daenerys sat on the throne, your father, her hand. She had sent gifts, your father had come himself with them and dozens of his own gifts, with the contingency that you would receive the rest upon your return home. You would go soon, take your place within The Rock. To ensure your son would be as fine a Lannister as any could be, to begin to seek out an advantageous bride for him, and give him a sibling or three to play with. But for now, the realm could wait.

Jon TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain, @rebeccawinters, @taylorsfemalerage, @rax-raxus, @certainwonderlandperfection, @nymeriiiia, @burkgolden, @drewsivy

[femalehieronymusbosch]

how special friendship is so pure and so sinful at once, it feels like poison fr, you were right. it's like 1 season cesare and lucrezia, you know where it's going but it hasnt yet, and their love is as pure and all consuming as the love of god

i see you're a person of culture as well! i didn't see similarities before but now you mention it i can't unsee - their scenes together have this tunnel-vision on each other and slow honey-like quality as if the time stops when they're together. check! their desire to compare themselves to historical figures too. check! they have enchanting love theme that plays over their scenes too. check! however, notice how Georges and Alexandre's theme is quite sombre and reminds more of season 3 "Cesare and Lucrezia spend the night together" rather than season 1 "Cesare and Lucrezia's love theme (by the fountain)". and the whole vibe you describe so well, of course.

Georges is dreamlike romantic hero, Romeo, beautiful, elegant, noble, softspoken, with patrician bearing and quiet charm, Alexandre is cute and soft but lit from within with his unbreakable spirit, he truly has “not of this earth” charisma, fire burning too brightly is destined to went out quickly. Their first date is dreamy, sweet, cute… the way they instantly cling to each other! The moment when they exchange blood is subtle eros incarnate, Alexandre’s gaze is full of love and tenderness as he looks at Georges licking his blood, and Georges’s enigmatic and sensual flutter of eyelashes as he looks down… Humans are equally body and soul, true love is both heavenly and earthly, you know.

Alexandre’s unshakeable confidence in Georges’ feelings, he knew that “you love me and I love you” before they ever spoke to each other from glances alone, “glances that are like kisses, and words are like caresses” he’s sure of it and he won’t back down. Only in childhood we can ever be this devoted, without considering anything else. That’s why after Georges’ presumed betrayal he’s got nothing to live for anymore. Georges is older that’s why he can see the benefits of pretending to comply, to lay low, to play along with well-meaning holy fathers (and they do mean well and while being nosy and insistant, that’s their job, they’re teachers, parents entrusted these boys to them).

Georges no matter how much of a lovesick poet he is, lives in the real world, while Alexandre doesn’t, he’s uncompromising, it’s either love or death for him, and if Georges doesn’t love him… with Georges’ love Alexandre was willing to be against the whole world, but if Georges has forsaken him… As father Lauzon says “give me back his soul, it was yours for too long”. And gives Georges a photograph of Alexandre, taken before he was wounded and forever changed by love, “when his heart was untouched. when there was nothing, no one”. Love for Georges was his religion. One shouldn’t look for love and death, for they find one on their own. Georges was looking for love, he wanted to fall in love and tried it with Lucien first, when he was shot by Amour’s arrow at the sight of Alexandre, and Alexandre was looking for death when the love he thought was as strong as death failed him.

They properly meet on a train but even before they’re introduced to each other they already know they love each other and are connected by the string of fate. Are you acquainted? – No, but we are in love. they speak with their eyes, melting, basking in their shared feelings. They’re saying words, but they don’t need them, it’s just a lovers’ meaningless babytalk to enjoy hearing each other’s voices. You love me and I love you, we’ll be united forever, run away together and don’t care for anything else, I will never forsake you, I don’t care if we’ll be caught, as long as we are together and never separated… murmurs like an endless stream. There’s no internal torment, they instantly give themselves to each other. I like the way Georges always positions himself lower as if putting Alexandre on pedestal, sitting/standing on the stairs slightly below to look up at him with adoration. When father Lauzon catches a whiff of Georges’ lavender perfume on Alexandre’s hair... What implication is more damning, the gifts – exchange of perfume and perfumed locks of hair, or frolicking together in a haystack?..

Book’s moment when Alexandre confesses “I love you more than life itself” is omitted, but there is another equally important one added. When Alexander sneaks into Georges’ music lesson, he looks at him with eyes full of tenderness and sorrow, and touches his hair with gesture too familiar. It’s when “I love you more than life itself” is palpable, even if unspoken. The realization, the surrender to feelings. It’s unusual and unsettling to see such an expression on the face of young boy, this expression is kind of reserved for romance heroines in specific moments when her hero is weak (wounded in attempt to protect her for example) and she’s looking at him slowly realizing how much she loves him, caresses his hair with “now it’s my turn to be stronger one and protect you” notion. And it’s after they got caught! So Alexandre is doubling down on their love. Showing that he’s unafraid. He felt that he can lose Georges and it made him brave, made him feel that they have to seize every moment they get. It made him understand himself and acknowledge the fact that he’s found the meaning of life now. And that meaning is Georges. It’s as dramatic and life-changing and deadly as only first ever love can be.

Then Alexandre's demise is ambiguous on purpose. Georges is left with this eternal bleeding wound, guilt. Was it an accident? If it wasn't - did Alexandre repent in his last moments? Was he saved and forgiven? Where is his soul now? Georges cannot even follow him in death because what if Alexandre did repent and went to heaven? And if he didn’t? And Georges won’t meet him even if he drags through life till the natural end? There's no answer.

[alavestineneas]

King's will

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x OFC

summary: In the game of chess, the queen has more freedom on the chessboard. In that sense, the queen is the most powerful piece. On the other hand, the king has more value. Because if you lose the king, you lose the game. 

warnings: arranged marriage, medieval violence, slow burn

chapter 1 -> chapter 2 -> chapter 3 -> chapter 4 -> chapter 5

Fall of the year 123,

Bitterbridge

The neighing horses under Marcella's windows mixed with the voices of knights, making a familiar tune. The only routine thing in those small, dusty rooms. She is not sure why she is here; the bed looks like it is about to fall apart, and the only source of light is a half-burnt candle. Its dim light sways from the draft and the chilly nature of the first moon of Fall. Marcella wraps her shawl tighter around her shoulders, the fear of the unknown slowly creeping into her heart.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the almost silent knock and the hushed voice of the servant announcing a visitor. There are a few people who dared to disturb the lady at such a late hour: her sworn knight or

"Father!" Marcella exclaimed, standing up from the chair.

"Hello, my darling." Lord Fillis smiled. "Oh, how have you grown since the last time I saw you!"

Marcella rushed into her father's arms, feeling a sense of comfort and security wash over her. She had missed him dearly.

"Why are you not resting yet? We continue the road at dawn." Her father's voice was stern.

"I couldn't sleep, Father," Marcella replied, looking down at her hands. "I was too excited to see you." Lord Fillis chuckled softly, his eyes filled with warmth. "I understand, my dear. But remember, we have a long journey ahead of us. You must get some rest."

"Why are we in a rush?" Marcella asked, her curiosity piqued.

Lord Fillis sighed, his gaze turning distant. "Lord Hand assured me everything is ready," he explained cryptically. "We cannot afford to delay any longer."

Marcella nodded. She remembered the day she learned about the arrangement. That evening, she cried and cried until it made her sick. The poor servant thought she would jump off the cliff in the deep of the Sunset Sea, following her around day and night. She was young. Since then, Marcella has had enough time to accept her fate; it was her duty to her family and the gods.

"My darling," her father whispered, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "The gods have chosen you for this path. Do not let them down."

"I won't. I will honour our family and fulfil my duty," Marcella replied. If her father wants her to marry, she will. The time to repay his love and kindness has come. She couldn't bear to let him down.

-

Marcella was standing in an ancient white-walled hall, surrounded by a few guards. She could feel the weight of their gaze as they monitored her every move. The echo of her footsteps reverberated through the space, intensifying the sense of isolation. She heard people running around, mostly servants and cooks. Marcella wondered why they were made to wait in here and what they were waiting for, but her father stood silently, his brows furrowing in worry. He also seemed to not have the answers she longed for.

The Red Keep was truly massive, its towering walls and intricate architecture leaving Marcella in awe. She couldn't help but feel small and insignificant within its grandeur. Tyrell shivered, thinking about the endless possibilities of betrayal and dangers hiding in those large corridors. Her riding clothes were made of thick leather with subtle floral patterns, creating a beautiful ensemble. She didn't have time to change into a more appropriate gown, so she was left standing there, smelling of horses, sweat, and the road.

"Lord Filis?" A man appeared in one of the corridors. His voice echoed through the vast space, causing Marcella to jump slightly. She quickly composed herself, trying to hide her discomfort as she also turned towards the man, ready to face whatever news he had brought. "Queen Alicent awaits your daughter. You are advised to wait here."

Her father nods, visibly dissatisfied with the order. He places a hand on Marcella's back. Marcella could feel the tension in her father's touch, a mix of protectiveness and frustration. She knew he wanted to accompany her, but the protocol demanded otherwise. "Please her Majesty. Go."

Marcella nodded and took a shaky breath. She straightened her posture, determined to show strength in front of her father. Deep down, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. She followed a man to one of the doors, watching him knock and announce her arrival. As Marcella entered the room, she was met with a sea of unfamiliar faces, all eyes fixed on her. She sank into the deepest curtsy one could manage, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Arise," a tired voice commanded. Marcella slowly rose from her curtsy, her eyes scanning the woman in front of her. The Queen's piercing brown eyes seemed to hold a lifetime of wisdom and experience. Marcella couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and nervousness in the presence of such regal beauty. As she studied the Queen's expression, she detected a hint of curiosity and perhaps even a touch of warmth, giving her a glimmer of hope that her audience might go better than expected.

"How did you find the road, Lady Marcella?" The Queen's voice was soft yet commanding, drawing Marcella's attention back to the question at hand. It was a simple inquiry, but Marcella knew that her response held a lot of significance. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before answering, "Your Majesty, the road was long, but I am grateful for the opportunity to be in your presence today."

The noblewoman looked pleased with her answer. "Good. Maester Mellos", she gestures.

Only now does Marcella notice the old man standing behind the Queen. The Grand Maester comes closer to her, his steps heavy and slow. He scarcely lifted her chin with two fingers, his short nails scratching Marcella's skin. Marcella winced slightly at the touch but maintained her composure, not wanting to show any signs of discomfort in front of the Queen. The Grand Maester inspected her face, turning it from side to side to get a better view.

"Open your mouth, child,'' he mumbled. As Marcella obediently opened her mouth, the Grand Maester peered inside, examining her teeth and tongue. His expression remained impassive, giving no indication of his thoughts on her oral health. Satisfied with his inspection, he withdrew his hand and stepped back, allowing Marcella to close her mouth once again. "Take off your clothes."

"Pardon?" Marcella's voice trembled with confusion.

"Your clothes. Is your hearing bad?" the Maester asked.

"No, no, it isn't." Marcella shook her head, catching the eye of the Queen, who seemed more interested in the state of her ears than the indecent order. Tyrell hesitated for a moment before reluctantly starting to unbutton her top. It took her some time, but she managed to get the clothes off. Now, they pooled around her feet. Marcella stood there, feeling exposed and vulnerable. The Maester's gaze lingered on her, his expression unreadable. She fought the urge to cover herself, trying to maintain her composure in front of the Queen and the Maester's prying eyes.

She felt anger slowly creeping its way from her chest to her cheeks. She wasn't some servant girl, nor was she lowborn. She was a noblewoman from one of the Great Houses of Westeros, and those people judged her like a horse at the Fall festivities. Marcella's frustration grew as she realized that her status and noble lineage seemed to hold little weight at this moment.

Finally, the Maester stopped inspecting her body with his gaze and turned to the Queen, whispering something in her ear. The woman nodded and left the room, not even bothering to look at Marcella's shivering self twice. Maester Mellos curtseyed and followed Queen Alicent on her way out.

Marcella stood there, feeling a mix of confusion and humiliation. She couldn't help but wonder what had just transpired and why she was being dismissed so abruptly. The door opened again, now letting in two servants. Marcella didn't pay them much attention; she was deep in her thoughts. They picked up the clothes from the floor and folded them.

"Wait! Those are my gowns." Marcella exclaimed, finally snapping out of her daze and realizing what was happening.

"Apologies, my lady," the servant said softly. "These gowns are to be taken for cleaning and maintenance. They will be returned to you shortly."

"Well, am I to be naked then?" Marcella asked, a hint of frustration in her voice. The servants exchanged a glance before one of them spoke up, "Not to worry, my lady. Her Majesty was kind to gift you a gown."

Marcella felt her anger settle a little. At least she won't have to show the entire castle her bare form. "Well, show me the dress."

"My lady," one of the servants said, holding a green gown in her arms. The gown was made of rich velvet and adorned with intricate embroidery.

"Oh gods," Marcella said, feeling her unease returning. The dress looked like something her mother would wear, with the long sleeves and high neckline only showing a bit of shoulder. Her heart sank as she realized that the gown was not at all what she had in mind. Despite her disappointment, Marcella forced a smile and said, "Thank you." She will not disappoint her father by throwing a fit over a dress.

When the servants were done dressing her and putting her hair in place, they escorted her back to the hall she left her father in. There he was, in the company of Lord Hand and a few men Marcella had yet to meet. The talking and chatter stopped as soon as they noticed her. Lord Filllis's eyes lit up at the sight of the colours she was wearing—the colours of the Queen. The group of men bowed their heads in respect, and Marcella finally allowed herself to smile, oblivious to a few tears gathering in her eyes. She felt her father whisper "Good job" in her ear before continuing the previous discussion.

-

Alicent thought of herself as a good mother. She loved her children more than anyone in the world and was prepared to sacrifice her happiness for theirs. Though now she could not get her finger on the right thing to do. Even when the thought of Aegon's marriage to Helaena sent shivers down her spine, she said nothing. It was not her place to decide. But now, since Tyrell brought his daughter to court, everything has changed.

Mayhaps it was how similar the girl was to her. Surrounded by men who thought they knew better, bearing the duty of being the sacrificed lamb in the greater game. Young, naive, and scared. It was like looking into the best-polished mirror, the one Alicent tried so long to break into the smallest pieces and hide.

Mayhaps it was the way Helaena reminded The Queen of Rhaenyra. The same silver, almost white hair of Old Valirya and piercing violet eyes. Her daughter was youthful and delicate. Wed her to Aegon, and she will shatter.

Or the way those girls reminded her of a once strong friendship. Some evenings, Alicent wished she could return to those majestic times of her girlhood when she was free to do as she pleased. This memory fades away with each passing sun, and she holds onto it as tightly as she can. Still, it slowly vanishes.

All of her children had the features of her former friend. How ironic. Her sweet Helaena, brave Aemond, and Aegon. Her firstborn, her son. Once a cheerful babe. Now he drowned himself in wine and women, making mistakes, mistakes, and mistakes. Oh, how Alicent hated that. Her duty was her burden, but his was a blessing. Yet he refused to complete it.

''Why do we need their support anyway?'' she asked, turning her head to face her father.

''Pardon me?''

They were dining together after a long day in court. The table was breaking under the weight of various foods, but the Queen lost her hunger. She sighed, pushing her plate away. The weight of her son's irresponsibility hung heavy in the air, overshadowing any enjoyment she might have found in the lavish feast.

''The Tyrells. Why them over other noble houses?''

Her father leaned back in his chair, contemplating her question. ''Money, Alicent. They are the richest house in Westeros.''

Alicent raised an eyebrow, surprised by her father's response. ''Not Lannisters?''

''Lannisters have gold, sure, but Tyrells have people and an army. They handle harvests and have a lot of authority in court. It is risky to keep them uninvolved. Because then, they might change their mind. And we can't afford to have such a powerful house turn against us.''

''The girl does not own it, though. Her older sister does, and then her son. The girl's position is too low. Marrying her off to Aegon would not bring us any significant advantage. We need a stronger alliance to secure our position.''

''The girl's low position in the house hierarchy works in our favour. There is no power for her, just money and people. Her sister will support her and her forthcoming children, Aegon's children, but she will not be the trouble.''

''And what about Helaena? Who will she marry if Aegon is betrothed to Tyrell?"

Otto took a sip from the goblet of wine before responding, " Helaena is still too young to marry. We have time to consider all possibilities. Marrying Helaena off to a powerful ally could strengthen our position even further. Perhaps we should explore potential matches within the Dornish or Ironborn houses."

Alicent thought for a moment. She didn't want to send her only daughter so far away, but time is on her side. Mayhaps, there will be matches closer than Dorne. She pondered the possibility of arranging a marriage with a noble house in the Reach or the Stormlands, which would allow Helaena to remain closer to home. ''I guess it is true. Does Viserys know?''

''Not yet. I wanted to see the girl first, just to make sure. What does Mellos think of her?''

''Mellos believes she has potential. Her health is good, and most women in her house were known to bear many children,'' Alicent replied, considering her advisor's opinion.

''And what of her temper? Her father is not the most patient man alive.''

Alicent paused for a moment, carefully choosing her words. "Her temper is yet to be seen, but she has been raised in a noble house. Besides, she seemed complaisant enough to maintain a calm demeanour during our conversation. However, it is always wise to keep an eye on such matters.''

''We should arrange the meeting then. Have Aegon ready when the sun arises, and make sure he is not as drunk as a sailor. It would be prudent to have a few trusted guards nearby as well, just in case. We cannot afford any," Otto paused, ''any obscenities.''

Alicent sighed. ''May the Seven look upon us all.'' There was a lot to be done.

-

''Lord Hand! I did not expect you to visit me in the gardens.'' As Marcella closed her book and stood up, a smile played on her lips. She knew that Lord Hand's visits were never mere coincidences. Just as her father, who was now looking down at them from one of the balconies.

''I will not take too long, Lady Marcella. Should we take a walk?'' Lord Hand suggested, gesturing towards the winding paths of the garden.

''That sounds delightful, Lord Hand. The gardens are particularly beautiful this time of year."

''Yes. Not as beautiful as the Highgarden's one, but still pleasant, Otto replied, his eyes scanning the vibrant blooms that adorned the garden. ''Your father always had a keen eye for creating beauty,'' he added, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. ''Was your sleep pleasant?''

''Yes, Lord Hand. I am quite pleased with the new chambers; the view of the city is magnificent at dawn.''

''You wake up at sunrise?'' Otto questioned.

''It is hard not to, my Lord; once the city is awake, there is no luck to get a few beats of rest.''

A chuckle escaped the man's mouth. Tyrell's chambers were not the most pleasant in the Red Keep.

They walked in silence for a while until a few voices were heard behind the bushes. Marcella took a breath, careful not to look too nervous in front of Lord Hand. She straightened her gown as they approached the source of the voices, mindful not to stumble over the hem.

There he was, in the company of the Queen. Prince Aegon, the second of his name. The conquer of whores and wines, the great slayer of servants and bastards. His presence commanded attention, as his silver hair and violet eyes shone in the sunlight. The rumours of his reckless behaviour seemed to be true, as did the rumours about his unique beauty, which only Targaryens possessed.

''Your Majesty, my Prince,'' Marcella curtseyed. ''It is an honour to be in your presence.''

''As it is mine, lady,'' he trailed off, sending a pointing look at his grandsire.

''Lady Marcella of House Tyrell, my Prince.''

''Right.'' He wondered how he had not noticed her before, with that pretty face and a gown of some sort of forest green hugging her flesh. It is not his preferred look, it is true, but something about those eyes (and breasts) sparked interest in him. He quickly regained his composure and continued, "I must admit, Lady Marcella, your beauty is truly captivating. My grandsire sure has an eye for women."

Marcella felt heat travel to her face. ''Thank you, my Prince. House Tyrell takes great pride in our family's beauty and charm.'' She wanted to add how much she trusts his judgment since he is clearly an expert regarding women, but she held her tongue.

''Prince Aegon, why don't you show Lady Marcella more of our gardens? I am sure she would be more than glad to take a look at the fountains.''

"Me?", hesitated Aegon. Otto's eyes were now burning imaginary holes in his clothes. The Hand clearly showed that there was no backing away from this one.

''Yes. My duties await, I am afraid. Lady Marcella,'' Lord Otto nodded, ''I trust that Prince Aegon will be an excellent guide.''

Marcella was alone with him. Well, not alone; Ser Ywain was still holding guard near, eyeing Prince's every movement like a hawk.

"I guess I will," Aegon grumbled and dragged his feet down the stairs. ''There are quite a few of them, one near us. It's not the largest, although good enough.''

''I see.''

A silence settled between them.

''What do you think of Gransire's proposal?'' the Prince asked. ''To wed us, that is.''

Marcella hesitated, unsure of how to respond. She knew that her father worked hard to make this marriage possible, but the idea of marrying someone she barely knew made her sick. "You are a Prince, your Grace. Every woman in the Realm would be honoured to be your wife."

The Prince chuckled. ''Oh, yes. But I am asking you.''

Here. Her last chance of escape. Say no, and her father will have no choice but to accept defeat. Marcella looked at the windows above them. With a sigh, she replied, ''I would be more than content to marry you, my Prince.''

Her eyes met violet-purple ones for a mere second before the man turned away. ''Good.''

With that, her fate was sealed.

[sitp-recs]

like freedom by @softlystarstruck

Artwork by @babooshkart

Harry/Draco (2022, Mature, 4.3k) 🏳️‍⚧️

Harry doesn’t know the exact moment his life changed. Maybe it was the day Draco Malfoy unwillingly turned up at his front door, or the moment the plane’s landing gear went up and London-Heathrow fell away below them. Maybe it was in the dusty swirl of red rocks and motel rooms somewhere between Tennessee and California. Maybe it wasn't a single moment at all, but a whole series of them, captured with Harry's camera.

“How does it feel?” Harry asks. Draco blinks, just a flutter of his lashes, then smiles wide and slow.

“Like freedom,” he says. “Like something brand new.”

“Brand new,” Harry repeats softly. He can’t take his eyes off Draco’s barely-there freckles, his bright eyes, the pink blush of his bottom lip. The road rumbles underneath them, endless.

Did someone say ROAD TRIP but make it soft and contemplative?? *Liv has joined the chat* this fic was such a wonderful Wireless surprise and since I’ve been wanting to write a proper rec for Bee’s stuff for a while here’s my perfect excuse! This grabbed me by my heartstrings within the first few paragraphs with annoyed Harry and pitiful Draco being forcefully bonded together and boarding on a plane to god knows where, all part of a Ministry Reintegration program. Draco’s terror flying for the first time hit me in a very particular way, and so did Harry’s reaction; that first scene established both characters in such a brilliant way I knew right away this would be a personal favourite.

The slow burn is as quiet, lovely and assessing as our main characters, following their Muggle journey as they both relearn each other and make memories through photographs, the exquisite US desert landscape as a quite fitting background. Speaking of which, I am obsessed with the aesthetics here! All locations were perfectly chosen and evoke a constant feeling of discovery and isolation. I kept thinking about the desert symbolism in The Little Prince (one of my favourite books!) and how it magnifies the sense of loneliness, but “The house, the stars, the desert—what gives them their beauty is something that is invisible!” I was so moved by this parallel while reading this fic because instead of being a desolate thing, this is a desert journey full of peace and hope.

The narrative flows by through these short and enchanting vignettes, mixing gorgeous scenery, meaningful conversations and Harry’s camera creating memories of them both. I loved seeing the subtle change in their dynamics and in Harry’s behaviour (the way my heart melted at his “Baby’s first time driving” comment! 😳). And Draco learns so many things along the way! Paint spraying, driving and of course photographing. Bee chose not to show us everything but focus instead on these special shared moments where they grow closer and experience new things together. Peak romance! I love the quiet tenderness of it, the tentative intimacy and the certainty this is something good and lasting, with a minor sprinkle of soft angst of course, after all Bee always explores so well. Softness is their trademark! 💜

I am absolutely smitten with this sweet and atmospheric love story, the vivid imagery and the time skips capturing the progression of Harry and Draco’s relationship in such a deep, comprehensive and satisfying way for a 4k fic. This is about shared vulnerably and the ways anxiety, irritation and fragility can become something strong and confident and beautiful when you find someone worthy of it, who’s open and willing to take that leap with you.

Surprising absolutely no one, the incredibly talented Boo comes in with a bang, sharing incredible art pieces that translate the mood, the landscape and the softness of this journey so perfectly. I was mesmerized by the warm sense of pure joy that jumps from those photographs, it made the reading experience so much more real, immersive and heartfelt. There’s no better way to close this week than letting this gem inside your heart. Play paused parade and come treat yourself!

Read on AO3

[ukai-simp-services]

please can you write more nsfw kenma content? whatever you want omg and of course do it when u feel like it n u have time <3 love ur writing have a nice day

a/n: thanks for the request love!! i rlly hope this isn't too mediocre, i fr tried. enjoy <3

nasty

warnings: nsfw, cursing, humiliating, degrading, slight bdsm, name calling

  if there’s one thing you've learned about your boyfriend from the past year of dating him, it was that he tended to have a bit of a personality shift the moment he entered the ‘bedroom’. 

  many, including yourself, knew kenma as a more reserved individual. he didn't yell much, unless provoked - and he only really spoke up if he felt the situation called for it. to a normal acquaintance of kenma, he was just socially awkward and shy. 

  but those who truly knew him; being you and kuroo - you both knew kenma had a way of saying things. the guy simply had a lot on his mind, but he only chose to say the things that were relevant. he even seemed to have a bit of a temper at times, but he always meant well. 

  there’s one thing that only you got to know though, something that you'd like to think nobody else ever got to witness first hand. you saw a side to kenma that was reserved for you and only you. it was a feral; almost animalistic side. to put it more frankly, he was just straight up nasty. 

  lewd, vulgar, dirty - all words could be used to describe your ‘introverted’ boyfriend when he was in a sexual state of mind. he liked to own you in the bedroom, and sometimes even be owned. 

  three slow slaps were placed onto your clit, making your back arch in pleasure. kenma wouldn’t stop taunting you; wouldn't stop delaying your orgasm, and it almost had you in tears.

  “kenma, p-please. i need-”  

  “did i ask you what you needed? do you really think i fucking care?” a malicious look glistened in his eyes, eyes that were burning into yours. you knew by this look that it was his game and he would play however he wanted. 

  you bit your lip and nodded, submitting to his cruel game. he gave you a smirk in response, subtly letting you know he was proud of your obedience.

  without warning, kenma rutted two digits into your sloppy wet core; curling his fingers upwards to massage your insides. naturally, your back arched in response - tugging at the tight handcuffs that held you captive to the bed. kenma brought a hand to your cheeks, squishing them between his fingers.

  “hey, behave slut.” he spat down at you. 

  “s-sorry sir.” your cheeks flushed pink at the name kenma gave you.

  he chuckled at your state of submission, going to sit back on his knees as he continued his harsh pace inside your tight walls. his thumb found its home on your clit, rubbing hard circles into the flesh. you felt the familiar daze of an orgasm approaching you again - and you knew kenma felt it too. you weren't surprised when his two fingers left your core, but also disappointed in hopes that he would've just let you finish. yet, you kept your composure the best you could; no whining and no complaining. 

  your facade quickly fell when kenma stuck his two slick-covered fingers into his mouth, sticking out his tongue slightly to lap up the juices that had dripped down his palm. your eyes became hooded with lust, nipples hardening at the sight in front of you. kenma knew exactly what to do to make you weak and how to do it.

  “you taste amazing kitten, too bad it's not all about you tonight.” kenma teased in a low voice as his face inched closer to yours. 

  your cheeks heated up, cat-like yellow eyes bored into yours. you wanted nothing more than to reach your lips up to his and kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue - and you almost did, but he quickly pulled away. 

  the taunting man leaned back to pull off the remaining boxers and sweats he wore, cock bouncing up and pressing against his lower abdomen. your eyes trailed over his slim - yet toned body. you almost drooled at the sight of him. he was never very girthy but he had quite a few inches on him to make up for it. 

  a small part of kenma became self-conscious at your gaze on his body, but the feral part of him wanted to shove his cock right into your gaping mouth with no remorse. though, he decided he'd much rather feel your walls tonight. with a firm grip on your plush thighs, your legs were forcibly pulled apart; cold air brushed over your wet folds. kenma began his teasing by rubbing the base of his cock against your clit, the action alone had you nursing your bottom lip between your teeth. 

  kenma noticed your subtle gesture and knew right away that you were holding back your moans - and you were well aware that would only prolong kenma’s torturous game. 

  the boy’s lust-filled eyes locked with yours the second he began grinding his dick down on your clit with more force and pressure. you tried to maintain the  sensual gaze locked between you two as best as you could, but the sensation from the friction had you gasping for air and your head tossing back. a mocking laugh from your boyfriend pulled you out of your daze; your head shooting up immediately at the noise. 

  “you're so fucking sensitive, my dick isn't even inside you yet and you’re already squirming for me.” he leaned in closer to your face, brought a hand to your right breast and tugged at its perked nipple with his thumb and his pointer finger; making you yelp in response. 

  “please kenma. please, i've been so fucking good.” you begged; tears forming at the rims of your eyes. kenma refused to let go of your nipple and his rough grinding hadn't ceased either. 

  “good girls don't act this desperate, but cockwhores do. and you will be treated exactly how you act, get that?” he squeezed the bud that remained squished in-between his fingers for affirmation.

  “y-yes, sorry sir. i won't do it again.” you let out a shaky breath and blinked away the tears that had formed from a mixture of frustration and pleasure. you loved this kind of foreplay with your boyfriend, but that didn't make it any less agonizing each time you engaged in it.

  kenma removed the tight grip of his fingers from your nipple and slowed his harsh humping in a response to your cooperating words; also beginning to line up his length with your entrance. 

  a simple “good.” was all he needed to say before he was slamming his cock inside your tight entrance all at once. he didn't even need to have a huge dick to make your cunt throb in both pain and pleasure; the initial force of his member being plunged within you had you screaming at the top of your lungs. he had managed to push the tip of his head all the way up to meet your cervix in just one single thrust. 

  you choked out a “kenma” ending it with a loud moan and he knew to keep going. he controlled the pace of his thrusts to be quick and hard, bruising the inside of your pussy with each snap of his hips. 

  “you're so fucking tight. can barely fit this big cock inside of you, huh?” kenma shamed you through gritted teeth. 

  you struggled to form words; as his cock was slamming against you in such a way that your brain felt like it was melting. 

  “answer when you're being spoken to, bitch.” kenma ceased all movement; pulling his cock out of you almost fully, only the head remained inside of you.

  you felt your core clench around the small amount of cock kenma had left inside you, it made you almost want to scream in his face.

  “y-yes, i can barely fit you inside of me, sir.” you licked your lips; dry from heavy breathing. you hoped to god that he would continue. 

  “good, that's good.” kenma spoke breathlessly; all this fucking around was really getting to him too. oh well, maybe if you weren't so disobedient he could just continue on and fuck you properly. with those final words, he pushed his length back into you all at once, a lewd squelching noise sounded from the action.

  kenma leaned his body forward, some strands of hair fell out of his low bun and lightly tickled your collarbones - you always thought he looked so attractive in this position. he rested one hand next to your head and the other one came up to your face. you gave him a puzzled look, thinking he was moving to cup your cheek. your mind was quickly changed when he brought his ring and middle finger to your lips, pressing against them to force an entrance. you obliged his actions, parting your lips slightly to let his slender fingers into your mouth. he was quick to push his long digits further down your tongue, practically touching the back of your throat. 

  you gagged at the sudden feeling of his finger pads pressing down on the area between the end of your tongue and beginning of your throat; the sensation had your mouth filling with saliva. it took you a second to adjust to the feeling of your mouth being so full of his lean fingers  - all while your cunt was being slammed into by an equally as slender member. 

  you knew kenma was getting impatient for you to begin sucking on his digits, you could tell by the narrowing of his golden eyes - and the last thing you wanted to do was to tick him off when you felt yourself getting so close to an orgasm. you easily complied; letting your tongue circle around his fingers with a slow, sensual rhythm. your eyes never left his, keeping your best poker face on as he slammed into your guts and you salivated on his fingers. 

  the sadistic man found himself growing weak at the sight of your lust-filled eyes and the feeling of your mouth around his fingers - he felt you begin sucking them further into your mouth. he kept on his dominant persona as best as he could, despite the aching feeling of an orgasm building in his stomach. 

  “you’re so dirty, sucking on my fingers like they're my cock.” his breathing had become noticeably rigged, but his eyes kept the same hooded, dazed-out look that they had from the start. 

  you moaned around his fingers in response, drool was now dripping down your chin as well as his hand. kenma almost pulled his fingers out from their current spot so he could hear you as he fucked you through an orgasm - but he decided he'd rather see you cum with his fingers in your mouth. 

  your breathing became irregular, as kenma’s fingers were restricting you from being able to inhale and exhale regularly. it was when he began pumping the digits in and out of your throat that you felt the coil in your stomach begin to break. 

  the jangle from handcuffs being tugged at was heard as your body began writhing under your boyfriend. your muffled moans vibrating around kenma’s skilled fingers gave him the signal that he needed to hear to fuck your cunt harder and faster than he already was. 

  “you're gonna cum, yeah? you're gonna milk my dick?” kenma felt himself slowly losing his own composure, he was gonna cum any minute now. 

  “mmfm yesh...” the words leaving your mouth were far from coherent, courtesy of kenma’s fingers. you soon found yourself doing exactly what he said, velvety walls gripping at his lean cock like a vice. your orgasm was violent, it ripped through you with such a force that kenma had to gently use his body to hold down yours. it hit you like a fucking wave, you had been denied of it for so long that it came crashing into you with no mercy. 

  you screaming around his fingers and yanking at the cold metal handcuffs around your wrists practically threw kenma into an orgasm of his own. although not as violent, his body twitched above you as he moaned loudly into your ear; the way he knew you liked it. 

  both of you rode out your orgasms together, bodies twitching and chests rising and falling rapidly. before flopping his body onto yours, kenma removed his long fingers from your mouth slowly; thick strings of spit attached to your lips were following after them. 

  “so hot...you're so hot.” kenma mumbled breathlessly before letting his chest fall on top of yours and his head falling into the crook of your neck.

  you chuckled, “so are you, very hot actually.” you lifted your palm up to meet the top of his head; softly smoothing his disheveled hair down. kenma’s softer personality was rising to the surface again and his sadistic side was fading along with the intense aftermath of your orgasm. 

  he mumbled a “nuh-uh.” into your skin, you argued his statement. 

  “’m tired y/n. do you think we can rest for a little bit before cleaning up?” kenma nuzzled his face deeper into your skin to further convince you. you laughed at how his breath tickled your skin and unintentionally wiggled under him. the action made the handcuffs still attached to your limbs jingle, reminding you that they were still there. 

  “i’ll rest with you as much as you want, as long as you get these damn cuffs off me first.” 

  kenma peeked up at your arms, nodding before reaching over to his nightstand to grab the small keys to the handcuffs.

  “deal.” 

[cake-writes]

Earn It

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: filthy smut, ANAL (yes reader is 100% that bitch), kinda-sorta dubcon due to alcohol, praise kink, pain kink (yes reader is also 100% that bitch), safe word mention (not used), subtle D/s undertones, begging, degradation, count down, squirting, 18+

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: so you can blame my darlings @mandalorianspace​ and @buckybarnesplumwhore​​ for this one. THANKS A LOT. 💀 also I could not be fucked with the ending so lmao sorry but the smut is just more important here, okay???

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

You’re on your hands and knees in front of your boyfriend of two years, side of your face pressed into the sheets – and although you can’t see him, you can hear the roughness in his voice, feel his callused fingertips dig into the flesh of your ass as he spreads your cheeks apart. 

Despite how long you’ve been together, though, it’s unfamiliar.

“Bucky,” you gasp as his vibranium thumb smooths over your puckered hole. “Please fuck my ass, please—”

The tip of his thumb slides in, and you shiver.

“You’re so tight, honey,” Bucky warns, voice low, bordering on dangerous. “Sure you can handle it?”

You take his warning as a challenge, of course you do, but you don’t miss the slight note of concern in his tone. You’ve done anal before, just not with him because you’ve always been so intimidated by how thick he is. Even told him that once a long time ago. Funny story, that. 

Right now, however, you’re high on endorphins and drunk on too many shots of tequila to care.

“Yeah,” you respond breathily. “I need it. Baby, please.”

You’re eager, so much that you barely notice when he replaces his thumb with a finger until it sinks further inside than the former could ever reach. Just one finger leaves you gasping, never mind two as he stretches you open even more.

“Bucky,” you whine, wiggling your hips, impatient and needy. Two fingers isn’t nearly enough preparation considering how long it’s been since you had it last, but you want him. You want him so fucking badly, and he’s taking too long.

As if on cue, a third finger presses inside and you hiss at the burn. It’s a reminder that you shouldn’t rush, but you want it. You need it.

“Fuck me,” you plead, reaching back to spread your cheeks apart so he doesn’t have to. “If it won’t fit, then make it fit. I don’t care. Just fuck me.”

Bucky stops, three fingers buried knuckle-deep in your ass, to stare at you – not that you even notice, because you’re already so fucking gone for it. You do hear a hint of surprise in his voice when he asks after a too-long pause, slowly, teasingly pulling his fingers out, “What’s our safe word?”

This isn’t the first time you’ve done a scene, and you breathe, “Peaches.”

“Good girl.”

After a playful smack to your ass, Bucky releases you to retrieve the bottle of lube from your nightstand. You pull your head up off the sheets to peer back at him, heartbeat pounding in your ears as he pops open the bottle. 

There’s something about the way his skin seems to glow in the warm lamplight, or maybe it’s the way his hair falls so perfectly into that pretty face of his; or how, when his eyes meet yours, dark and teasing, you feel yourself get even wetter at his approach.

Anticipation.

The lube is cold and wet as it drips down the crack of your ass and onto the bed. Some small part of you is thankful that he had the foresight to lay down a towel, but the thought is quickly forgotten when he holds the tip of his cock against your hole. 

You think you’re ready. You’re beyond ready. 

It's slick, ridiculously so, the way the head pops in without a hitch – but it’s a beautiful stretch, one that stings just enough to make your legs quake. You bite down on your lower lip because it feels good, too. Too good. Too right.

A whimper escapes your throat when Bucky presses in further, because that’s when it starts to hurt a little bit more – but you don’t use your safe word, because maybe you want it to hurt. Or maybe you just want him balls-deep inside you so badly that you don’t care. Or maybe that’s the tequila talking. 

You assume he’s about halfway in when he withdraws almost all of the way to spread the slickness further. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I—”

Your affirmation is promptly cut off with a moan when he slides back inside, a little further than before, but that’s where he seems to get stuck. Not in the literal sense of the word, but your channel just can’t seem to take any more of him no matter how gently he tries to ease inside. You’re just too tight.

“Hurry, baby,” you whine. “Please.”

You’re already being stretched to the limit, and it burns in the best of ways, but you want him inside. You need it.

The warmth of his palm on your ass cheek is a balm as Bucky mutters to himself, “Make it fit, huh.”

And that’s when you know you’ve made a mistake, because he lets go of your hair to grab your hips – but before you can stammer out your concerns, he slams all the way inside, punching the breath from your lungs. You swear you actually see stars because it hurts, fuck, it hurts, but hell if you don’t love it all the same. You swear aloud, too; a string of filthy curses escapes your lips as your back arches, hands balling in the sheets below.

With Bucky so fully seated inside of your ass, you quickly realize that he couldn’t have been anywhere close to halfway before. He’s just too big, too thick, you’re not ready—

But no safe word. Not yet. It hurts too good.

His body cages yours in from behind, but all you can focus on is the searing stretch of his cock deep inside of you. He’s pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder and whispering sweet nothings against your skin, perhaps meant to be a distraction, and it helps a little.

“Fuck me,” you rasp. Your pussy is drenched and he hasn’t even started moving yet. “Baby, please, I can’t—”

You can’t even think, let alone form a coherent sentence, but he understands just fine. His withdrawal is almost as bad as the entry – but that perfect pain twists and warps into some semblance of pleasure within your masochistic brain as he starts a slow, gentle rhythm, one that has your eyes rolling back.

“Look at you, honey,” Bucky whispers, one hand smoothing down your back, cool vibranium meant to soothe, “Taking every fucking inch.” His praise has your core clenching around nothing, but it makes your ass tighten up, too, makes him groan out, “Good girl. God, you’re so good for me.”

“Y–Yeah,” is all you can manage to respond with, because your mind is blissfully blank. 

There’s another pause as Bucky adds a little more lube, and then he’s pulling your arms back, dropping your face back onto the sheets – but that’s fine by you because you’re practically drooling anyway, and when he picks up the pace, you actually do drool. He stops being gentle because he knows you can take it, knows you’ll use your safe word if you have to, and the feeling of him pounding your poor abused ass into oblivion only sends you higher.

Mindless babbles and pleas leave your mouth on an endless loop; you don’t know what you’re even saying anymore, other than yes, yes, yes. Your knees slide further apart from his onslaught, which changes the angle just enough for him to slam into your sweet spot.

“I’m— Bucky, I’m gonna—”

You’re teetering on the edge, ready to implode, ready for him to put you out of your misery.

“Not yet,” he orders. “Wait for me.”

The sheer command in his voice makes you clench up again, because it’s near-impossible to stave off the inevitable. The pain’s given way to pure, unbridled pleasure at this point, and it teases your undoing, makes you so fucking desperate to come that tears start rolling down your cheeks. It’s adrenaline. It’s delirium. Your voice goes hoarse begging him to fill you up, to give it to you, to let you come, please, baby, please—

“Oh, honey,” Bucky coos, tone patronizing, smoothing your hair from your face. “You wanna come so bad, don’t you?”

“Please let me come,” you beg, not even caring anymore what a state you must look: face hot, flushed, tears staining your cheeks, saliva smeared down your chin and on the sheets. “Please, please, please—”

Each ‘please’ is punctuated with another slam of his hips until two of his fingers are in your mouth, digging into your cheek, stifling any further pleas; not that you don’t continue to try. Muffled, incomprehensible moans are all that come out.

“Too bad. You’ve gotta earn it.”

That’s when he finally lets go and buries his hand in your hair instead, to push and pull you as he pleases, use you however he likes.

“So fucking desperate—” Bucky slaps your ass hard with his vibranium hand and you jerk in surprise – not that you mind, because it feels so fucking good. “Had to shove it in ‘cause you’re such a needy little slut, isn’t that right, honey? So now you’re gonna take it, just like you asked for.”

As if it’s not hard enough to hold back, now he wants to talk to you like that?

“Bucky, please—” You’re sobbing with desperation as he pulls your hair back by the roots. “Please, I can’t, I can’t—”

You’re like a broken record, but you’re pretty sure it’s your brain that’s broken because you just can’t comprehend anything anymore. You feel like you’re floating, almost, ready to combust but you’re just not allowed to, yet.

“I’m gonna count down,” Bucky tells you, voice strained, and you know then that he must be close. “Three.”

Vibranium fingertips dig into your hipbone, hard enough to leave bruises, and he uses the tighter grip to pull you back harder onto his cock.

“Two.”

Sloppy wet sounds echo through the room as he slams into you with a more frenzied, albeit uneven pace.

“One.”

And then he angles his hips just so, aiming for your sweet spot once again which he successfully hits, over and over and over until finally, finally—

“Let go. Let me feel you.”

In an instant, your body tenses up like a live wire as you reach your peak with a strangled cry, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids in what’s probably one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had. He’s never made you hold out for so long, never made you beg this much before, but it’s certainly done something for you if the sudden gush of wetness between your legs is any indication.

“Christ, sweetheart—”

Bucky shoves in as far as he can go, and you feel a sudden burst of warmth deep inside as he fills up your ass just like you begged for. Aftershocks have your body spasming as his cock pulses inside of you, once, twice, three times, four—

And then his grip goes lax, on both your hair and your hip, and your scalp aches painfully but not nearly as much as your backside. It stings and burns as he slowly pulls out, gently massaging your lower back as he does: another welcome distraction.

The head of his dick slips out with a distinct pop, and you whimper. If it’s because of the loss or because of the pain, you’re not sure but either way you’re definitely going to feel it in the morning.

Pulling some wet wipes from your bedside table, Bucky attempts to carefully clean you up, but you’re already so sore so you take it from him and do it yourself.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, continuing to rub your back. “Did I hurt you? Was it too much?”

You give him a dopey smile. “Yeah. But it was worth it.”

Bucky snorts. “Sometimes I think you like the pain a little too much.”

Then he presses a kiss to your forehead, to which you let out a sleepy hum of approval. You love his aftercare, you really do, but today a cuddle is more than enough. The two of you lay together on the bed as he strokes your hair, and when you fall asleep, Bucky thinks to himself, well, you definitely earned it.

[lillupon]

AEV Deleted scene(s) immediately following the events of chapter 21 + commentary

I fiddled with the idea of giving AEV minwon a long talk followed by a smutty ending, but I ultimately decided to scrap it. Their relationship is too complex to neatly tie up all the loose ends within a chapter, or even two. Attempting to do so would just needlessly drag out the fic; it’s really material for a sequel. Mingyu and Wonwoo have been apart for many years. During their separation, they’ve grown and changed as individuals, and they will need time to re-learn each other. There are many insecurities regarding age and experience to address, and they will have to reconcile who they were with who they have become. There’s a lot they need to unpack before they get back together and I don’t want to write that lmao (ah… the real reason appears… it’s too much work and I’m tired ;w; writing longfic is hard). Anyway, I think the end of chapter 21 was an appropriate place to close.

In the bonus below, they fall quickly in to bed together because I was being self-indulgent. But I’m not really sure if it makes sense for them to pick up right where they left off and bang in the car. At the same time, they’ve never been able to keep their hands off each other, so… I dunno! If you like the idea of them fucking, you can accept it as canon. If you like the idea of them taking their time, talking things through, that works too.

I will leave it up to your imagination <:

What happens next...

They kiss! Right there, in public, where anyone could walk by and see them. Because it doesn't matter now—they're both adults. Mingyu is no longer his student, hasn’t been for five years.

The kiss starts chaste at first: two people who have been separated for years, unsure of how they will fit together. Their mouths meet, Wonwoo's lower lip slotting between Mingyu's. For a brief moment, they part. And then they're kissing again, and each time, their kisses grow longer and deeper. Mingyu cups Wonwoo's neck in his palms, hands sliding back to tangle into short locks. A firm yet gentle grip tilts Wonwoo's head. Wonwoo moans, and it flips the switch on everything. 

Mingyu's tongue delves into his mouth. His body awakens under Mingyu's touch, fire surging in his veins and arousal roiling between his legs. They're in public, but Wonwoo can't help himself: the first dribble of slick leaks free. He can tell the exact moment Mingyu catches scent of it. A growl rips through Mingyu's chest; Wonwoo can feel the vibrations of it. 

They don't even make it as far as his apartment. Mingyu slides into the backseat of his car, Wonwoo slipping in after him. It's reminiscent of all those years they had sex in a Walmart parking lot. Except this time, Wonwoo is the one who initiates. He's the one who presses Mingyu against the angle of the seat and door. He makes himself at home between Mingyu's legs and kisses him with all the hunger and passion that he has tamped down for years. 

Meanwhile, he's fumbling with Mingyu's belt. The heel of his palm bumps against Mingyu's straining erection. Finally, he works the belt free. Pops open the button. Yanks down the zipper. He jams his hand down the front of Mingyu's pants, both of them breaking the kiss to moan. The burning hot and solid heft of Mingyu's cock feels so good in his hands. It's even better in his mouth. 

Wonwoo wastes no time closing his lips around the head of Mingyu's cock, moaning as the salty taste of precum bursts across his palate. He kisses and licks and slurps, drinking up the ambrosial liquid bubbling up at the slit. And then he swallows as much of Mingyu's cock as he can down his throat. Above him, Mingyu groans, hands flying to Wonwoo's hair and hips jerking. There's a thunk as his head falls back against the window. What Wonwoo can't fit into his mouth, he curls his fingers around. Sheathing his teeth, Wonwoo begins to bob his head up and down. Every time he rises, he swirls his tongue around the head of Mingyu's cock. 

Mingyu is barely restrained energy beneath him: his stomach is taut as a drum. The muscles of his thighs flex and release and shake with tension. Mingyu plays with the short hairs at the nape of Wonwoo's neck, low murmurs of praise punctuated by groans when Wonwoo sucks and licks him just right. 

Wonwoo is high with the knowledge that he is bringing his alpha this much pleasure. His head is blissfully empty of everything except for the sound of Mingyu's moans and the stretch of his mouth around Mingyu's cock. 

"Fuck, I'm close," Mingyu grits out. Wonwoo responds by stuffing Mingyu's cock down his throat. Mingyu's hand on his hair tightens, keeping him in place. Tears spring to Wonwoo's eyes. Mingyu's shaft goes rigid on his tongue and then begins to pulse hot and thick spurts of come down his throat. 

Wonwoo, moaning, swallows and swallows. There's so much of it. It spills out the corners of his mouth. Under his hands, Mingyu's hips spasm, and all of it is so hot that Wonwoo can't help himself. Without a single touch to his cock or hole, he begins to come, making a mess of his briefs. Wonwoo pulls off Mingyu's cock with a wet pop, cleans it up with laps of his tongue. Doesn't let a drop of come go to waste. 

Mingyu groans. “God, how are you this fucking per—" He cuts himself off and hauls Wonwoo up by the collar and kisses him, hard. 

They make it back to Wonwoo's apartment, the edge of their hunger slaked just enough to make the commute. Mingyu can't keep his hands off him. Kissing and mouthing at Wonwoo's neck and jawline and generally being very distracting, as Wonwoo fumbles for his keys. He's not in heat, but it sure as hell feels like it. At this point, his hole is so ready to be filled that it hurts. Slick drips down his inner thighs. Wonwoo wants to cry, he's so frustrated by his stupid door. Mingyu's making the task even harder by setting a proprietary on his ass, finger slipping between his asscheeks to rub at his clothed hole. Mingyu's grinding softly on him; Wonwoo can feel the hard ridge of Mingyu's erection on his hip.

Mingyu lays him down on bed and undresses him. Tugs down his trousers and finds out that Wonwoo has soiled his pants. "When did this happen, hm?" 

Wonwoo, embarrassed, throws a forearm across his eyes. “While I was sucking you," he mumbles. 

It isn’t long before Mingyu is pumping three fingers in and out of Wonwoo's ass. His other hand plays carelessly with Wonwoo's cock.

Mingyu still knows exactly how to touch him, how to make him squirm. His hips swivel of their own accord, bearing down on the fingers inside him. 

Wonwoo is lying on his stomach, a pillow beneath his hips, when Mingyu slides into him. Wonwoo reaches behind him to grab Mingyu’s ass, forcing him closer, urging him to go deeper. 

"So good," Wonwoo moans, voice thick with pleasure. He needs to know: "Is it good for you too?" The words are stuttered, punched out of him with each thrust.

Mingyu drapes himself over Wonwoo's back, planting a forearm by his head so he doesn't completely smother Wonwoo beneath his weight, but Wonwoo wants to be smothered. Mingyu drops a kiss on his shoulder. "Yeah," Mingyu breathes. "S'good for me too. You feel so good."

Their first fuck is hard and fast and exactly what Wonwoo needs. Mingyu ends up hauling Wonwoo up onto his hands and knees to better pound him. He digs his fingers into Wonwoo’s waist, pulling Wonwoo onto his cock every time he plunges inside.

It isn’t until their next round that they slow down. Mingyu lies atop him like a heavy blanket, his groans and ragged breathing hot against Wonwoo’s ear. He fucks Wonwoo with slow and deep rolls of the hips. Under him, Wonwoo has fallen apart into a moaning mess. 

His whole world narrows down to the place where they are connected. He swears he can feel it, the pounding of Mingyu’s heart against his back, the way his own heart beats in resonance. He can’t believe how good it feels to have Mingyu inside him, around him. It’s overwhelming. Wonwoo’s eyes go hot with tears. He buries his face into the sheets below. The next moan that leaves him almost sounds like a sob. 

Mingyu stops moving. Nuzzles against the nape of Wonwoo’s neck. “Hey, are you okay?”

Wonwoo nods. Doesn’t trust his voice. 

“Wonwoo?” Mingyu tries again. 

Wonwoo exhales shakily. “I’m okay. It’s just a lot. But in a good way.”

Mingyu hums an unconvinced noise.

“It’s good, I promise. Oh, god—please don’t stop…” 

Afterwards, they lie curled on their sides, pressed chest-to-back. Mingyu’s knot is lodged inside him. 

“I swear,” Mingyu says, nuzzling his neck, “I just wanted to talk to you, but you are irresistible.”

Everyone can smell it on Wonwoo when he goes to work the next day: an alpha's claim. No one mentions it because as teachers, they are nothing if not tactful. But Wonwoo catches the subtle flaring of their nostrils as they detect a new scent on him. Some of the nosier teachers even watch him as he limps down the hallways, wrecked by Mingyu's knot. 

They get their honeymoon. Mingyu fucks him over every available surface in his apartment: in the shower, over kitchen counters, up against a wall, over the back of a couch. Mingyu even holds Wonwoo suspended in the air as he fucks him, Wonwoo's legs wrapped around his waist. The position has Mingyu's cock reaching deep, and the display of alpha strength has an orgasm shaking out of Wonwoo within minutes. 

But as amazing as the sex is, what Wonwoo loves the most is the aftermath: Mingyu holding him and kissing him softly. Wiping him down with a washcloth and then carrying him to the bathroom. Mingyu prepares for them a post-sex meal. Even feeds him.

They spend a lazy Sunday afternoon together. Wonwoo's belly is pleasantly full from the lunch Mingyu had made: soy-glazed pork belly and stir-fried vegetables on rice. 

They're lounging on the couch, Wonwoo curled up against the arm of the sofa with a book in hand. Mingyu has fallen into a food coma and is using Wonwoo's lap as a pillow. Mingyu isn't even doing anything—blissfully asleep—and he is still distracting. Wonwoo has read the same sentence in his novel twenty times. 

With a sigh, he tucks a bookmark between the pages and lightly tosses the book onto the coffee table. He gazes at Mingyu, eyes following the straight slope of Mingyu's nose down to his lips. The years have been kind to Mingyu, turning him from a boyishly charming kid to a devastatingly handsome man. He is truly the alpha of Wonwoo's dreams, and Wonwoo thinks, with a thrill of excitement-fear-anticipation, that he might be able to fall in love with Mingyu, if he hasn't already.

[am-imagines]

I see you. - Alex Morgan Imagine.

Request: “ Can I request this: Alex and r are together and the team knows and then they come out to the public in some really cute or funny way and maybe you can also incorporate some supportive reactions from the team? ”

I hope I did it justice, guys. Thank you for the patience to those that are still around. I love y’all. <3

No Beta, so you know the drill here, but I tried my best.

Sharing a room with Alex during the World Cup was somewhat rough when you were barely able to look at her without blushing. You were crushing on her since the day you met, but it was never that bad until you were on the bed next to hers.

The awkwardness that overcame you around her was odd, considering you texted practically nonstop. You became good friends like that, and there was an ease on your conversations that you’d never experienced with anyone else.

You shared so many interests, even had a similar lookout in life. You aimed for the same goals and put in equal amounts of effort to achieve them.

None of that changed the fact that Alex was stupidly handsome. Her beauty smacked you on the face whenever you looked at her and that was your downfall. It didn’t matter what you did, your cheeks would end up flushed with color and you’d stammer total nonsense that would make her chuckle. Alex would inevitably get closer to make sure you were okay, and just like that you were a gay mess.

A thing you learned quickly about Alex is that she never quit.

When you were too nervous to talk, she filled in the silence with a funny story or a new song to listen together. Free nights became movie marathons or just quiet moments where you’d work the nerves away before a match.

Halfway through the World Cup it wasn’t a rare occurrence for you to fall asleep in her bed and wake up cuddled on her side come morning.

Pointing the exact moment when your relationship became more than a friendship was near impossible. It was slow, steady and swift. One day you looked at her and realized that she was more than your friend, and when you leaned down to kiss her, she met you halfway.

This was a new side of yourself and Alex; one that you wanted to enjoy without rush or pressure. No one really knew you were into girls to start with although your crush on her wasn’t exactly subtle. Then again, everyone had to be a little starstruck by Alex Morgan when they joined the USWNT.

Once you were World Champions, you had time to explore that relationship and everything it meant to you. It was both exhilarating and terrifying with all the media swarming you, and yet no one noticed the slight changes in your demeanor.

No one really asked, and you never told.

Perhaps you just weren’t ready to come out to the rest of the world. Maybe wrapping your head around some of the details was harder than you thought. After all, you were dating Alex Morgan, for fuck’s sake!

Maybe the longing looks, the lingering touches and the secretive smiles were a few clues for the team, but if they knew or suspected something, you couldn’t tell. They were a part of your family, and in the end, they wanted you to be happy above everything else.

They would wait for you to be ready, and once things went back to normal after the victory tour, you finally were.

“How are we doing this?” Alex asked as she played with your hair. “Livestream?”

You look up at her, your head resting on her lap as you scroll through social media wondering what the fuck you’re about to do. But a second later all your attention is on her, and you find yourself breathless once again.

She’s stunning in a million different ways but you preferred this one; soft and relaxed. That was one of the perks of enjoying a quiet weekend at her place in L.A. before you went back to your respective clubs.

It seems like the National team is fond of Live Streams but it isn't how you want to come out. First because you’d become a nerve mess before actually sharing the news, and second because it isn’t original at all.

If you are about to come out to the fans and sponsors out there, you want to do so in a way they’d remember.

“I don’t think I could do it even if I tried,” you finally say.

Then it dawns on you: humor is the way you handle most of the things that would make you uncomfortable otherwise. That’s not to say you want the world to believe your relationship with Alex is a joke, but there has to be a way to come out in a funny, quirky and clever way.

“We’ll see each other in a couple of weeks, right?” You ask trying to remember the exact date when your clubs will face each other.

“Yeah,” she pauses for a second and you look up at her curiously. “Speaking of, any chance I can steal you for a night while you’re in Orlando?”

“Well, Ms. Morgan, I’m pretty sure that can be arranged,” you tell her with a coy smile. “For now, there’s some online shopping to do.”

With a kiss on her cheek and all the hesitation on the world to leave her side, you finally go to the other side of the room to retrieve your laptop. After all, you’re in a very important mission. And NWSL is the kind of merchandise you’re looking for.

For some miracle of the Gods above, you find both your jerseys in stock available for shipping within 24 hours with an extra fee. You don’t mind paying a bit more to stay on schedule, and even when you technically still have time, you like to be prepared.

It’d be nice to get your items before you and Alex go your separate ways.

You’d be lying if you say having her autograph wouldn’t be nice too.

“What’s the big idea here?” Alex asks while you finalize the purchase.

Her arms found their place around your waist and she rests her chin on your shoulder so she can see what you’re doing. Your plan is still a secret, and you want to keep it like that for a little longer.

“You’re gonna have to wait and trust me for a while.”

The smirk never leaves your face even when you can feel her little pout. It doesn’t last long, the laptop is forgotten on the coffee table and you turn on her arms to face her. A moment later you’re straddling her lap, your fingers undoing her ponytail and combing her hair until she closes her eyes.

“For now, what do you say we stop worrying about the rest of the world?”

“What should we do then?” She asks, already leaning in for a kiss.

“I think you got the right idea.”

*****

“All set?”

You scan the place one last time to make sure nothing’s missing from your bag. Nothing important since Alex has already claimed half your clothes.

Cellphone and wallet already in your pocket, and keys right on your hand, everything seems to be where it should. The rest of your things are packed and ready to go for the last flight home.

The Victory Tour ended on a good note, so now all you have to do is say goodbye to Alex.

Sharing a room with her was hard at the beginning, and you never expected that not sharing it anymore would be exponentially harder.

“Yeah,” you finally answer after patting your pockets once again. “I think-, I think I’m ready.”

“Okay.”

But just like you, Alex doesn’t really move and when she does, it’s towards you.

You’ve never seen her move as fast as she does while crossing the distance between you. But you don’t comment on it, really can’t when her arms are around you in a second and her lips are on yours.

It’s soft and yet firm. The kind of kiss that makes you weak at the knees and all you can do is hold onto her shoulders. You move with her, allow her to take control of it all as you try to burn her into your memory.

You try to memorize the softness of her lips, the silkiness of her hair between your fingers and even that scent that is purely Alex. You try to take all of it in, but you only have a moment that is over far too soon.

Technology is your saving grace, and you’re not sure what you’d do otherwise. And yet there are things you can’t convey through the Internet.

“I should go,” you whisper against her lips.

“Yeah.”

It’s hard -almost impossible-, to resist Alex. So despite the pressing matter of time, you indulge in another kiss.

Just like last time, you melt into her embrace and you consider staying there forever. It’s almost as if time stopped around you. Almost. Your alarm goes off startling you out of the daze, and you can help the little jump that makes Alex chuckle.

A step back creates just enough distance to clear your mind, the action making Alex raise an eyebrow in amusement but it’s really not your fault. She has that effect on you, has been that way for a long time, and yet she still finds it amusing.

With a tap on the screen you take care of the alarm. And there you are, right where you were ten minutes ago.

Time to go.

“Right. So...here I go then.”

“And-,” Alex adds with an excited smile, “-we have a game plan for next week.”

“That we do.”

Next week you’re playing against different teams on different days which gives you the opportunity to watch each other’s match. It’s the first step on your plan. Coming out seems like a big deal, and bit by bit the pieces get in motion.

“No regrets, right?” You ask.

This is not just about you. As big as coming out can be, this is also the reveal of your relationship with the biggest face of the USWNT. Whatever backlash you can get from this, it’ll be worse for her due to her massive following.

So you have to ask her again if she’s sure about this, if she’s as ready as you are.

“Y/n,” she calls softly as she cups your face. “No regrets at all.”

“Good,” you said with a small voice, barely believing this. “That’s...that’s good.”

You’re on this together, and yet, it’s incredible.

*****

Her match is about to start when you pull out your phone to take a selfie.

The pride colors look kinda odd on you. Maybe it’s because you spent the last few months only wearing the National Team kit, or maybe it’s because you don’t wear purple that often. But well, you’re not requesting a team trade, and it was your idea, so you can’t complain.

One of your friends already helped you take one picture of the back where Alex’s name and number are perfectly visible.

You’re practically shaking, but manage to smile as you snap the picture.

It’s something simple, really. Something that shouldn’t mean too much and yet, it does.

Pulling up your social media, you add both pictures.

  |Cheering for the Pride today. #13 show me what you’ve got. ;)

The wink is cheeky; it’s a reason for people to read into it and wonder if there’s something else going on. Which is…well, totally the point.

It’s funny to see the diverse reactions to your post. Some are confused about what you mean, some jump to call a trade that simply won’t happen; at least not that you know. But the press, oh they are ready to call it a rivalry.

It doesn’t matter how many times you two were caught on camera during the world cup being friendly. It didn’t matter if you two worked like a well oiled machine on the field during every match; Victory Tour included. They wanted to push the rivalry angle; fueled by the lack of a rebuttal from either of you.

You can’t help but laugh later when you call Alex to congratulate her. She truly showed you what she got with a couple of goals and the victory for the Orlando Pride. Those have been rare for her team lately, although you can’t blame them with so many key players also going to the World Cup.

However, the rivalry angle is fun to play with and in the end it’s the one you decide to push a little more the next day when it’s you on the field while Alex watches.

You’re already done with warm-ups and head out to the locker room to change into the kit when you hear your phone pinging with a new post. As expected, you find Alex’s post already blowing up despite it has been up for a grand total of two minutes.

   |I already showed you what I’m capable of. Now it’s your turn, Y/n.

Attached it’s a picture of Alex wearing your club jersey and although the number isn’t really showing, it’s more than obvious she’s wearing yours.

A chuckle escapes your lips while you shake your head. A question running through your head as you prepare for the starting whistle.

What the fuck am I doing?

***

A week later the press is going wild with theories about you and Alex. They aren’t sure what to make of it, but everyone has been talking about it for days. The upcoming match up between your clubs has served to add fuel to the fire, but you ignore all the fuzz of it as you prepare.

Last week you obtained the victory with a last minute goal to earn the three points. And unable to resist temptation, you had to make another post about it.

   |I’d say I’m pretty good at delivering. What do you say, Morgan?

   |TBD. See you next week.

The last part was a clue that no one seemed to catch on considering you were staying at her place instead of sticking with your club in a hotel. Of course, you didn’t share that bit of information and instead let the tension grow outside of your happy bubble.

This match is the moment of culmination if everything goes the right way. But playing against Alex doesn’t mean you’re going easy on her. If anything, being on the same field always pushes you to play the best soccer and be the best player you can be out there. It doesn’t matter if you’re wearing the same colors or not.

Being lenient with her as a rival is the kind of mistake that could and would cost you a game. You just don’t underestimate Alex Morgan. And she better not do so to you or you’ll make her pay.

Adjusting the captain armband once more, you follow your team into the field and take your place just a few feet away from your girlfriend.

“Good luck, Morgan.”

“May the best team win.”

You play your hardest on that field; push to your limits and beyond, but in the end it’s a draw. Two a piece. Of course it had to be a draw. But you left everything there.

The game became physical and you tackled Alex as much as she tackled you in order to get back a lost ball. That’s part of your motto, not giving up even if it seems like a lost cause. And considering Alex decided to date you even when you couldn’t look at her four months ago, you’d say Alex doesn’t give up either.

Well that and the couple of new bruises you have after the match.

You’re a bit disappointed with the final score; you always want to win and carry that inertia into the next game. But it’s a fair result considering how close the game actually was. You two put on a show and the fans of both teams can see that.

“Y/n! Y/n! Can you give us one moment of your time?”

Looking at the person calling for you, you have to fight the smirk as you see it’s a reporter. It’s not hard to imagine they’ve been waiting for this moment since the first post you made a week ago.

“Sure.”

“What a great game you gave us today. Are you disappointed with the result?”

You can see this is not really what they want to ask, but you don’t mind playing along giving your commentary to this question and a couple of others.

“One last question, the fans and everyone really, are wondering about this new rivalry between you and Alex Morgan. What can you tell us about that?”

Bingo.

“Oh, there’s absolutely no-”

You could feel Alex lingering around, listening into this interview while being interviewed herself by another reporter for a quote after the game. But it’s only when you’re in the middle of your answer that she takes the few steps to wrap her arms around you from behind.

“We’re dating,” she announces proudly and straight to the point.

“-rivalry.” You finish your sentence before shaking your head. “Babe, I was going to say it!”

“What’s stopping you?” Alex challenges with that smirk you absolutely adore.

“You’re impossible.“

“Yeah, and…?”

“And Alex Morgan is my girlfriend,” you answer with just a little grumble as you look back at the camera. “But we’re definitely winning the next game.”

“Not on my watch,” she counters before turning your face towards her to kiss you softly.

Whatever argument you had is gone just like that. But it’s hard to keep track of your thoughts when she kisses you. Hell, it’s impossible to think straight when she’s too close to you. That’s why it took you so long to actually talk to her.

Your relationship is still so new, and yet you can’t help but feel like you’ve known her for decades. The connection between the two of you is meant to last, and you’ve never felt your heart skip a beat as it does when you look at her.

You’ve never felt your heart hammer against your chest so madly; and that’s something considering you played -and conquered-, a World Cup. You’ve never felt so in peace as you do when you look into her eyes. You’ve never felt so happy, or so whole, or so seen...or so you.

Alex has the ability to understand everything you say, but words aren’t needed for her to understand you. In a short amount of time, Alex knows you better than anyone else in the world, and as scary as that might seem, it’s also the best thing in the world.

“If you’ll excuse us now...”

Surely there are a thousand other questions the press wants to ask. However, you have no need to stay on the field as you guide Alex back to the tunnel. The fans will be all over that interview in no time, and it’s bound to appear in every social media and every news channel.

Even with the anxiety starting to creep in, the doubts nagging at the back of your mind, you don’t let go of her hand until you have to. After all, you belong to two different clubs. But your goodbye will be short lived as you’re going to her place for the night.

Still, the time apart is a bit scary when you’re about to face the backlash of many, and perhaps the support of most. After all, you’re not the first couple -or the only one-, in the USWNT, NWSL or even women’s soccer around the world.

After another gentle kiss, you part ways to reunite with your team.

You’re hesitant for a moment; taking a deep breath to steel yourself before facing them.

As soon as they see you, the room erupts in cheers and whistles of approval. Then again, your crush on Alex Morgan wasn’t exactly a secret. And after the World Cup, they could see something had changed within you.

Of all the people out there to get you, your club got your back. And after you get a chance to check your phone, you notice they ain’t the only ones.

   |Rivalry, that’s what they call it now, uh?

Megan’s post goes along with a picture of you smiling at Alex at the end of a World Cup match. It’s obvious you were smitten with each other back then, and nothing has really changed.

  |We all know how Rivalries work. One of them has to end on top. If you ask me, my money is on Y/n.

Your blush is impossible to hide when you read Ash’s words, and that’s something that you won’t ever reply to. There are things that you simply won’t share with the world.

  |Wait, hold on. Did you guys seriously not know?

Sonnett asks in her post with several pictures taken during camp. Some of them are during team bonding or well...movie nights. It wasn’t unusual for either of you to feel particularly tired and ended up falling asleep in the same bed.

But you’re surprised to see that you cuddled before you were together.

Then, there’s the evidence of you sitting next to each other whenever you could. During breakfast, on the bus, on the bench, on the plane. At some there was hand-holding added, and you wonder, truly wonder, how you called that subtle.

  |Hottest couple out there. Sorry, Krashlyn.

Bit by bit, every single player of the USWNT has shown their support, and it acts as a wave to generate more support from the fans, and it’s so overwhelming that the few people brave enough to try and drag your name on the mud are immediately silenced.

The world is still far away from being perfect, but your friends, your teammates, your family, they sure make it better.

“Ready to go?” Alex asks when you meet her outside.

“Sure, as long as I end on top tonight,” you say with a playful wink that earns you an eye roll.

“You wish.”

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

The Struggle of Loving You - Chapter 24

Chapter Selection 

Directly after everything was over we took pictures outside with our degrees. Chloe took a picture with Aaron and I, it was one of my favorites of us.

"I'm framing this one." He glanced down and raised his eyebrows, "Better send me a copy." I smiled and we got ready to leave. 

Taking all of our gowns off we tossed them into the trunk of our cars. "Are we meeting you there?", Anthony said from his car pulling out of the parking lot. 

"Yeah." They drove off and I got into the car with Aaron. He started following them to the club. As he drove I stared at the sun as it slowly made its way behind the buildings and trees. The moon rose on the other side of the sky. 

Aaron looked out the window muttering, "It's beautiful." I turned my head, not hearing what he said. 

"What was that?" 

He nodded off, "The sky... it's beautiful." I agreed and looked at it with him.

"What now?"

"What do you mean?", I assumed he meant now that I had my bachelors... I could finally apply to the academy. I knew the wait time and I was definitely going to need a job in the mean time. Needing to have some amount of money.

"Now... I apply. I've wanted this for so long, I can't believe it's actually happening."

 "That's how I felt too, and now that I'm back at work maybe you can unofficially help me on some of my cases." I held his hand, leaning my head back against the seat. The light turned green and he continued to drive. 

Meeting my friends we walked inside... they were already there. In the corner booth enjoying themselves to some shots. "Y/n get your ass over here!" I held Aarons hand and dragged him over with me. 

"Loosen up", Anthony gave Aaron and I two shots. Letting go of his hand I tossed back the liquor. It burned on the way down my throat but in the end it was worth it. 

My whole goal was to just get drunk, be happy that my years of work might actually be worth it. 

Aaron was holding back a bit ordering whisky. He would probably be the one drinking home and ultimately was the one with a higher tolerance. 

I had got all of us some food so we weren't drinking on an empty stomach. As my friends and I were talking Aaron was sitting next to me somewhat silently, only talking after I had said something. His gaze was fixated on me and the glass of whisky in front of him. 

I leaned back and put my chin on his shoulder, "Are you okay?" He nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine." 

I brought my hand to his bicep, holding onto him. "Come on... tell me."

He glanced down at me, "I know you want me here, and I wanna be here for you. Y/n I don't know them." He was referring to the people sitting in front of him. "I'm just-- feeling out of place", I gripped him tighter. "Then let's go."

He furrowed his brows, "What?"

I slowly pushed him out of the booth, taking one final drink and Aaron finished the last sip of his glass. I brought him over to the center of the floor. 

Feeling all of the body heat around me from the people dancing everywhere. My hands went around his neck, "Then let it just be us... I'll have time with them later." He gripped my hips and he followed my lead, swaying my hips back and forth. 

Both of us getting into it... the beat dropped and Aaron turned me around so my back was flush against his chest. I could feel his breath on my neck when he dipped his head down. My ass pressed into his front. 

Getting a little fiction, I knew the effect I was having on him. I could feel him against my lower back. My breathing wavered and my arms went around his neck, pulling him closer than he was before. Aaron nipped at my neck, placing subtle kisses up and down.  

A small romantic gesture but my body was reacting more and more. I let out a soft moan and I slid my hand from the nape of his neck to the side. Bringing his lips to mine, his hands dragged up my sides from my hips to my stomach.

Going lower, I knew what he was about to do... and I didn't want an audience for that. I smiled and I grabbed his hand spinning myself around and faced him. 

Turning to the side, I started walking to the back of the club, "A storage closet? Okay." Within seconds my chest was against the cold wall in front of me and the door was shut. 

He flipped me around and brought his hands to the back of my thighs picking me up and pinning me to the wall. I squeezed my legs around his waist and held onto his neck and shoulders, pushing his face to mine. 

I pulled away and looked at him and then around the room. I saw his blush face and dilated pupils. 

"This is cozy." The room was only big enough for a few boxes, we were definitely going to need to be more flexible.

I could feel the arousal in my underwear starting to dip onto my inner thighs. The dress allowed Aaron to move a hand in between the both of us and tease me. "Already... I'm just that good aren't I?" He chuckled. 

"Don't get too cocky sir." 

He audibly groaned and he closed his eyes and captured my lips in his. Bucking my hips trying to get him to notice he finally dipped one finger inside, his mouth muffled my moans. 

Curling his finger with a come hither motion my legs stiffed.

"Come here", he lifted me up even more, I didn't know what he was doing until his head was between my thighs. I could feel the scratch of his stubble on my skin. 

Settling on his shoulders I placed my hand flat on ceiling and one hand carding through his hand.

I hissed through my teeth as his tongue circled my clit. Constantly flicking his tongue, over and over again. 

Clenching around nothing my grip tightened and he groaned into me. Feeling a faint smile he knew what I needed.

Walking backwards his back hit the wall, it allowed me to slightly bend. Trying to chase my orgasm as he assaulted my clit. 

"Aaron", I was breathless, holding onto the door frame. I was getting closer, and he knew that. Feeling the tension in my legs as I was wrapped around him. Everything went white, I deeply exhaled and Aaron slowly brought me down to the floor. Laying me on the cold tile. 

I opened my eyes and Aaron stared back at me, "I'm not done yet." I brought my hand up and pulled him down to my level. 

His mouth on mine I tasted the bitter sweetness that was on his tongue. His hand landed behind my back and I was standing. Backed into a corner, he tugged at the hem of my dress. Pulling it to revel the wetness that pooled there. 

Before he hadn't bothered to take off my underwear and that didn't change. Bringing it to the side, I unbuckled his belt and exposed his hard cock from his restricting clothing. 

Aarons released a deep moan when I wrapped my hand around his dick. Lazily pumping him, warming him up knowing it wasn't going to take very long for us to cum. 

"Please...", he inched forwards and slowly slid into me, bottoming out. My body was coated in endorphins. 

I was still calming down from my first orgasm and I knew I was about to have another in a few minutes. 

His thrusts quickened, and he took my right leg and wrapped on his hip. My hands were on his chest slowing moving down. Sliding under his shirt he almost did the same with me. 

Taking the strap off my shoulder and taking my breast out of my bra. His hand cupped it and his lips ghosted it. 

"Uh-- fuck", his teeth grazed over my hardened nipple. Clenching my walls, his fingers snaked down to my clit. 

Knowing I need the extra effort even though what he had to offer was more than plenty. He knew every inch of my body like he wrote it. Every dip, curve... everything I liked. 

"Oh god", moving to covering my mouth. The loud words left my lips, he didn't want me to be too loud. "Baby you need to be quiet. Wouldn't want anyone else coming in here." His head leaned down and nipped my neck. 

His hand traveled to my throat, pressing my head up to the wall. My breathing slightly restricted but not to the point that I couldn't breathe. 

"Harder", I whispered and I felt the pressure on my neck and between my legs increased. 

I felt like I was floating. He slammed into me, groaning into my ear and it sent a shiver down my spine. His head rested in the crook of my neck and mine was on his shoulder. "Y/n", I knew he was closer, clenching around wanting him to finish. And he did a few seconds after the action. 

I felt him twitching and I knew, finishing with him we said each others name like a curse word under our breath. Staying inside waiting for me to regain an ounce of composure. 

Letting my leg hit the floor, I was stable enough to stand on my own. 

He kneeled down in front of me, "Wha--", his tongue pushed into me. Collecting the evidence. Not wanting our mess to drip onto the floor. 

The closet wasn't the cleanest, with nothing for me to wipe my body with. Aaron obviously noticed and decided to do it himself. Not being bothered. When he was down he stood back in front of me, "Thank you." 

"You don't need to thank me sweetheart." I pulled him towards me for one final kiss before we left the closet. Not seeing anyone we left, going back into the crowd. 

"I'll be back, I'm going to get us some water." I said okay and walked back to my table. 

"How was your dance?", I nodded and they smirked at me. They took in my appearance connecting the dots. 

I looked back at the bar and saw Aaron talking to a man. They had to have known each other because they were making jokes. He held up a finger at him asking for a moment then came over to me. 

"My teams here, they want me over there." 

"Oh... that's fine." 

"My place?" I agreed and he went to his team. I didn't mind, knowing eventually he'd introduce me to the people he spoke highly of.

_____________

Permeant taglist : @errorcosplay67 @wanniiieeee @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @filthyq-tip-blog @aberrant-annie @oreogutz 

[baekhyyun]

Be My Girl?

» pairing: lee donghyuck x reader

» genre: sfw, fluff, slow burn(?)

» word count: 911

» warnings: talk of fwb relationship, reader being obivious to hyuck’s feelings, feelings

You had a strange relationship with Donghyuck, there wasn’t a clear indication that you were both exclusive to each other. It was never discussed, in all honesty. If you were to explain it to someone, they would automatically say you have a friends with benefits type of relationship but that crossed the line in more ways than one. You knew that lingering after meant some type of attachment to one another, but it was never spoken of. 

Many questions built up as months passed between the two of you, there have been many incidents that strangers would confuse you as a couple. It never phased Donghyuck whenever strangers came up and said that, he felt this pride deep within his chest and played it off, while it left you a flustered mess next to him. 

Slowly your relationship grew more, both of you finding yourselves more involved in each other’s regular routine. It felt natural to the both of you, there was no push back from him or you. It just felt right. Yet the questions you had were never answered, the only reason it dragged on like this was mostly your fault. You kept quiet over the whole thing. Your desire to call Donghyuck your boyfriend, lover, significant other, was a goal you wanted to achieve and make reality. 

 Little did you know that those feelings were being reciprocated by the person you desired the most. Sadly you weren’t aware of the subtle loving glaces and gestures that Donghyuck would throw your way. 

“I’ve tried so many times to tell you how I feel, but I could never muster the confidence to tell you.”, Donghyuck's voice broke the silence between the both of you. 

You were finally registering your surroundings after being pulled out of your mind, sitting across from one another in a small diner with full bellies. Your mind was racing at the mere confession coming from him. 

“You don’t have to say anything, but I just want to let you know how I feel about you.”, he nervously expresses, “I just want something more with you and no one else.”

Donghyuck tried reading your face in order to get a feel on how you felt, but he could see the utter shock laced on your face from his confession. The more you kept quiet, he slowly started to regret opening his mouth. Donghyuck wanted the ground under his chair to swallow him whole to avoid your rejection if it came. Sinking into his seat to hide from the embarrassment, he was close to not hearing your response which quickly changed his mood.

“You feel the same as I.”, you whispered.

This was music to Donghyuck’s ears, his feelings were reciprocated and wasn’t feeling like some loser for wanting more. 

“Why me?”, you questioned.

“Why not you? You are the most beautiful woman that I’ve laid my eyes on and who has left me speechless with the smallest things you do.”, he confessed.

His words made you flustered, you felt your body become hot from the compliments given by the man. You hoped this wasn’t some cruel dream that your mind created, kissing Donghyuck was the only option you believed to make you feel at ease.

His lips were soft and plump, he tasted like the vanilla milkshake he’s been drinking for the past twenty minutes which was intoxicating. If your lungs could stand without breathing air, you would kiss him forever. Blood slowly rushed into your ears, you could hear your own heartbeat within your ears from just kissing, he had this effect on you and it sent you to overdrive.

Breaking the kiss to catch your breath and to calm down your racing heart was needed desperately. If you continued you would explode from the sheer emotions circling within you. Looking up at the man across from you noticed he was in a similar state but with a smile plastered on his face from your boldness. 

Donghyuck felt like he won the lottery just by that kiss, he knew how you felt by that simple gesture without you having to form a sentence. This moment made his night, no month, maybe even all the months he chickened out on admitting his feelings towards you.

“Please be my girl?”, he blurted out.

His excitement was something no one, not even you could miss. All you had to do was say one word and it would be the start of a beautiful relationship, but sadly the world had other plans. The owner of the diner interrupted the moment which brought you both back to reality. Both of you not realizing that it was closing time and being the last two people in the diner was embarrassing. You both quickly apologized and made your way to the door bidding the owner another apology and a good night. 

Walking side by side, you both laughed at the incident that occured mere minutes ago. Once your laughter dies down a comfortable silence makes itself present, you stop dead in your tracks as you grab Donghyuck by the forearm. Confused with your actions, he was ready to ask what was wrong, but you cut him off with another soft kiss.

“I would gladly be your girl.”, you grinned. 

Donghyuck pulled you back into his arms locking his lips with you thanking the gods above for you agreeing to be his. Slowly pulling away from your lips, “You’re stuck with me now beautiful.”

Copyright © 2021 baekhyyun. All rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

[diyeoracha]

fanfic recommendations

for @kittensocute bc i heard “atsukita” and “iwaoi” in reference to fanfiction and i am There

i took your “i love slow burn or slow build fics... so i like relatively shorter burn fics (20-30k). If its a 10k oneshot slow burn hELL SIGN ME UP” and absolutely ran with it.

i listed my fav iwaoi fics (17) with a longer word count (longest is 80k) that are all mostly either canon compliant or divergent with only two straight up AUs. none of them feature heavy nsfw content and most if not all are tagged as friends to lovers lmao. feel free to read the my thoughts or just go into them blind!! and they’re all in order of how much I absolutely adore them :^)

now atsukita is not a big ship *sobs* but here are some of my favorite fics (7) of them! a lot of them are shorter bc i guess that’s just. what happens when it’s a small ship LOL. 

the formatting in this is fucked if you open it from ur dash but if it’s on my actual blog it should be fine!

Iwaoi

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle

Word count: 66k

thoughts: my absolute absolute absolute favorite iwaoi fic. the characterization, the fact that oikawa’s a bastard but because he and iwaizumi are older (late 20s i believe), it feels more realistic and sad rather than oikawa being a bitch for the sake of it. spoiler alert it’s slow burn and pining and mostly oikawa not realizing his feelings. this world building is pretty cool bc iwaizumi is the professional player while oikawa is an entomology professor! also i love non-linear narratives bc of This fic. there’s mutual pining in this fic but it’s really really really subtle to the point where you dont even know if oikawa likes iwa. this made me cry like twice.

sunset towns

Word count: 33k

Summary: In the summer of 2020, Oikawa Tooru returns home from his first successful stint as captain of Japan’s national volleyball team. In one hand, he holds the undisputed weight of an Olympic medal, and in the other, his unresolved feelings for a childhood best friend.

thoughts: the tone in this is So similar to the courtship ritual that I liken this as an alternate story even though it’s still oikawa’s pov. professional player oikawa and regular guy iwaizumi and oikawa is just. bumming around at iwaizumi’s place and naturally he messes up but things happen.

told before and told again

word count: 4k

thoughts: i looked through literally all the tags i could’ve thought of for this and nearly cried when i found it agian. outsider POV!!

In damp earth my body

Word count: 15k

Summary: Onscreen, the nation’s favorite setter has arranged himself so that he’s bowing, forehead pressed to the court, like he’s thanking everyone for their kindness thus far, like he’s asking for forgiveness. Hajime thinks: shit, it’s really happening

thoughts: oikawa retires and moves in with iwaizumi and they blur the line between roommates/best friends and being fwb. this is an iwaizumi pov and the pining is obvious on his end. as a iwa stan the tone made me feel weird bc it makes it seem like iwa cares more abt oikawa than he cares abt himself but. its a good fic

i grew up, you grew down

word count: 19k

thoughts: this is also SO funny bc basically oikawa retires and moves in with iwaizumi and becomes his stay at home wife and a bunch of shit happens like people think that oikawa is dating ushijima and oikawa basically loses it every time. here’s one of my favorite quotes:

“Oikawa also bought a new ultra-strength vacuum cleaner he’d decided to name Ushiwaka out of sheer spite, because it sucked all the air right out of the room. Iwa-chan didn’t think the joke was that funny when Tooru told him, which was frankly very hurtful and insensitive.”

Mint

Word count: 19k

thoughts: iwaizumi is moving and oikawa planned a perfect last hangout and it goes to shit featuring matsuhana. oikawa pov where he pines more than iwa which is something i can get behind!! and this was written in 2015 and iwa’s moving bc of a sports medicine program so iwaizumi stans know and love him sm ;;

Almost a Stranger

Word count: 16k

thoughts: same premise as mint LOL except they’re on a trip together and there’s more non-linear narrative!! this one is a little more mature in tone than mint i would say (funny how people just like splitting them up and throwing them in different countries huh)

with every second that you could give

Word count: 9k

Summary: The journey of Iwaizumi and Oikawa going for gold.

Quote: He knows they’re too close. Iwaizumi knows it too, and they both decided to move in together anyway.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates and they’re both obviously and really pine-y for each other and everyone sees it but them. srsly. they’re sleeping in the same bed. like my god

Lost in Translation

Word count: 9k

Summary: Because misfortune come in threes, Iwaizumi Hajime starts his Thursday having a screaming fight with Shittykawa, spends his lunch break listening to the UCI women’s volleyball team gossiping about how Ushijima Wakatoshi had gone public about his longtime love affair with Oikawa Tooru, and closes out the day by drunkenly dropping his phone into a sewer grate.

thoughts: so funny. so sososoosso genuinely funny. the tone is so snappy and iwaizumi honestly just sounds like a confused teenager (which he is in this) and it gets extra points for including a lot of american culture that a lot of the other iwaoi college au ones don’t include for like. obvious reasons lol.

Something Borrowed

Word count: 16k

Summary: In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi have always been a foregone conclusion to everyone else, but a massive, unanswered question to one another.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates thats abo but it’s like. mentioned twice. whiny and possessive oikawa makes an appearance in this but it’s done really well

things that change, things that stay the same

Word count: 8k

Summary: Oikawa realizes he’s in love with his best friend; it sucks for a while. (But only for a little while.)

thoughts: high school getting together!! my second iwaoi fic ever and this one is just. so sweet. just an unsure oikawa realizing iwaizumi might be more than someone he wants as a best friend. this fic is honestly really really lovely.

galaxies, within you

Word count: 21k

Summary: Hajime and Tooru move in together at the start of university. Too bad they’re stuck with the two gremlins that haunt their apartment.

thoughts: ok this fic was so funny. theyre uni roommates and matsuhana just come fuck shit up and they all act like idiots together even though they go to different schools. and this really throws me back to university days.

Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad)

Word count: 19k

thoughts: pro! oikawa and iwaizumi haven’t been close for a while until oikawa invites iwaizumi to go to the games with him. there’s a lot of frustration and pining and actually talking about feelings (aka iwaizumi losing his mind and getting advice from people like akaashi)

when it starts to rain, they go inside

Word count: 33k

Summary: “Where?” starts Iwaizumi.“ My parent’s old lakehouse, silly, didn’t you hear me the first time?” OR: Oikawa takes Iwaizumi to his lakehouse for two weeks, post-graduation.

thoughts: this was actually my first iwaoi fic which is funny bc the author doesn’t even like oikawa much and i didnt even ship anything in haikyuu before i read this fic and now im in iwaoi hell. oikawa is really frustrating in this in that it’s basically a really good character analysis on how oikawa comes off as a Mean person all the time bc he’s manipulative and there’s some explicit content

shiver

Word count: 16k

Summary: Oikawa was always the brave one. Hajime just followed two paces behind.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates with oikawa admitting his feelings first back when they were in middle school and iwaizumi putting that thought on the backburner until. obviously. things happen.

Desperado

word count: 80k

thoughts: one of my favorite aus. it’s all from kyoutani’s perspective and it’s almost so au that they’re original characters (if that makes sense). basically iwaoi matsuhana are ex-grifters except iwaoi are estranged and daishou somehow brings everyone back together. excellent world building and reading the pov from someone not involved with the iwaoi drama was refreshing

sing with me a song of conquest and fate

word count: 26k

thoughts: a mythical kings au that’s just. so pretty. iwaizumi ends up becoming oikawa’s servant for some reason and the world building is a+ because you can feel the trust and frustration from both of them build

Atsukita

dreams of me and you

word count: 10k (incomplete)

my second atsukita fic that rly sent me down atskt hell ;; what is essentially post-break up when atsumu gets signed to msby and he’s just Pining and sad for the most part. but the established relationship pre-break up was written really nicely because it just fits my hc of them just being domestic and atsumu being blatantly head over heels

take me home

word count: 4k

i read this this morning and it wrecked me. domestic relationship atsukita?? sign me up

No time like the rest of my life

word count: 19k

mythology au with kita as a regular person and rest of inarizaki as fox spirits! it’s cute and the world building is absolutely lovely but it is an au so they might seem ooc but their core character values are still there

wild blue yonder

word count: 6k

literally full of similes and metaphors and it’s more of an abstract read i guess? but it’s so beautiful and soft and this is exactly how i imagine their relationship

reap and sow

word count: 8k

atsumu confesses and kita ignores him and it’s a couple years after the fact and it’s mostly just weirdly domestic almost roommate like except for the fact that atsumu makes it clear he likes kita LOL. they’re really in character for this!

weightless souls

word count: 2k

pillow talk before atsumu’s first game! the atsumu pov and voice is amazing

if we were both alone

word count: 7k

now this was actually my first atskt fic that sent me down this rare pair hell. it’s an explicit chat fic (both tropes i usually try to avoid) but atsumu types like me (except for the nsfw parts alksfjd) so i guess i like. feel appreciation LMAO.

if you do read like any of these fics pls let me know so we can discuss

♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

[ieattaperecorders]

Something's Different About You Lately - Epilogue: Borrowed Time

Life goes on, impossibly.

Read on Ao3

---

Martin shifted the bag of groceries in his arms as he climbed the stairs, still feeling a bit nervous.

The dinner had been Jon's idea – his O&M instructor was covering kitchen skills, and he'd thought it would be fun for the two of them to try making something together. The recipe had sounded a little elaborate to Martin, who'd protested that he didn't cook much, but Jon promised that it wasn't beyond them. He added that Martin was ‘perfectly capable' in the kitchen anyway, and said it with such prim, knowing confidence that Martin hadn't even bothered to ask. Before he knew it, he was writing down a list of ingredients to bring over.

He supposed that was just going to keep happening, Jon telling him things about himself. It was . . . strange. Sometimes it was endearing, sometimes just annoying. Occasionally it made him feel sentimental and a little bit sad in a way he couldn't put his finger on.

The door to the flat opened after a moment of knocking, and he smiled as Jon appeared.

"Hi Jon, it's Martin," he said. He'd read online it was polite to say your name, to not assume the other person will recognize your voice. "I've got the groceries."

"I know it's you, Martin." His tone was light and a little condescending, and Martin felt heat rise to his ears. "Come on inside. You know where the kitchen is."

Martin slipped past him and set down the bag, pulling things out and arranging them on the counter as Jon followed him to the kitchen.

"The store was out of chili paste," he mentioned.

Jon shrugged. "We'll improvise, then."

"If you say so."

Jon began taking out cookware, placing things down wherever he found counter space. "Do anything interesting today?" he asked, over the clatter of pans.

"Not especially. Filled out a few applications, then took a walk," he said. "Met a really friendly dog in the park."

"Flattered that you tore yourself away to come here."

"Wasn't by choice, her owner wouldn't let me keep her."

"How unreasonable."

It was weird, not having to worry so much about money. Not that Martin was complaining of course, but there was still a voice in his head telling him he was being too slow and selective in his job search, that it was lazy of him. And he felt anxious dipping into the new funds too much.

He'd just about gone into conniptions when Sasha told him what she'd done while she'd been fiddling with Elias's computer. Embezzlement might not have been an escalation when they were already committing arson, but they could still get caught, and wouldn't a financial windfall point a lot of suspicion towards them? But she kept assuring him that it was untraceable, some hidden fund Elias had, ready to be drawn on by anyone with the account information. The running theory was that he'd been keeping it for his next identity, which . . . yeah, the less Martin thought about that, the better.

Fear of discovery aside, he couldn't deny it was nice having a buffer like this. There was space he'd never had before to think about where he wanted to be, what he wanted to do with himself. And with the bills taken care of, Jon could focus his time on recovering. At the urging of his O&M teacher (and some amount of prodding on Martin's end) he'd even started talking to a counselor every few weeks. It was ostensibly just about handling the emotions that come up with sudden, traumatic vision loss, and he doubted Jon would be discussing the more exotic traumas he'd been through. Still. It was probably good he had something like that.

They went about the business of prepping ingredients, talking idly about food, things they'd done in the past few days, updates from Tim and Sasha. Martin's initial nerves already dissolving into the steady flow of conversation. There was something comfortable, he reflected, in being around someone who was so comfortable with him.

"Would you mind--" Jon frowned, fiddling with the hob on the stove. "I've got this, I'm fairly sure. Just . . . make sure I keep the pan centered?"

"Sure."

He came to stand behind Jon, watching over his shoulder as he set the carefully oiled pan on the stove and turned on the heat. Martin was a terribly distracted spotter, his attention frequently straying from the pan to look at Jon's face, pinched slightly in concentration. There was a single bead of sesame oil on his cheek, and it made his intensely serious expression that much more charming.

Despite his concerns, Jon had the pan well handled as he heated the oil and added in the aromatics. Martin only noticed him drifting once, the flames going high on one side of the pan.

"A little left," he advised.

In a moment of impulse and bravery, Martin curved an arm around him – placing a hand on his elbow, then running it down his arm to cover Jon's hand with his own, guiding the pan carefully into place. Jon leaned back, fitting the curve of his body into Martin's and sighing deeply.

"God, I've missed this," Jon exhaled. "Just . . . cooking dinner with you. All these little domestic things."

His voice was so unselfconsciously fond. It made Martin dizzy, just how easily affection poured out of him.

In hindsight, at least part of Jon's strange, awkward behavior around Martin had been a result of him holding back, wary of letting his feelings show. He never held anything back now -- his demeanor going from nonchalant or haughty to unbelievably soft and loving at the slightest prompting. It still took Martin by surprise, inspiring so much unreserved affection in someone. It wasn't anything he'd usually associate with himself. It was strange, and lovely, and at times made him feel almost frighteningly powerful.

He leaned forward, kissing the soft skin just beside Jon's ear. Jon smiled, holding his pose for a moment before gradually returning his attention to the pan, shaking it gently to move the vegetables around. Martin kept a hand on his, now fully for the sake of touch rather than any pretense of assistance, letting Jon's movements guide them both.

"Did we cook together in that cabin a lot?" he asked.

Jon nodded. "It was one of a handful of things we could do that felt . . . well, like a date, I suppose. We couldn't really go anywhere since we were lying low. I mean, we could walk around the area, isolated as it was, but trips to the village were all short and functional. So preparing something elaborate together made an evening feel special," he smirked. "You used to get defensive, too, just like today . . . saying you didn't really cook, like you were trying to lower my expectations."

"In my defense, I never said I didn't cook, just . . . ." Not since mum left , he thought. "Not for a while."

"To be honest, we were both at a disadvantage in that kitchen," Jon continued. "There weren't a lot of modern conveniences there. The power came from a generator, and the stove was an ancient, wood-burning thing that neither of us quite knew what to do with at first. Took a lot of trial and error before we really managed."

"Sounds cozy."

"Oh yes. So cozy we almost suffocated ourselves before we figured out how to adjust the vents."

Martin smiled, listening to Jon describe the little kitchen in that place. The cabin in Scotland had supposedly been a remote safehouse the two of them laid low in, but the way Jon talked about it sometimes it might as well have been a romantic holiday retreat. He made it sound so nice that Martin once idly suggested they go see it someday. Jon had gone tense and quiet at that, had shaken his head and said softly that they had to stay far, far away from that place. That there was nothing good that happened there now.

Jon was mostly open about the things he remembered. But sometimes "open" meant he'd easily speak at length about something, and other times "open" meant he'd answer your questions with short, one-sentence explanations, volunteering nothing unless pushed. And anything about the police officers he'd apparently worked with fell solidly into the second category.

Sometimes it seemed like they might have been friends, but Jon was always adamant that no one ever try to contact them. Daisy in particular seemed hard to talk about. Martin did know about the coffin. Jon had told him in a soft, emotional voice how another Martin had stepped from his cloud of isolation to set out tape recorders calling him home, how it had been one of very few things that let Jon believe he hadn't given up on him yet. And he knew something had been different about Daisy after the coffin, some sinister force like the one that had kept them at the Institute had loosened its hold on her.

He also knew that Jon was terrified of her, that he said again and again she was too dangerous to go near. That something about her made him sad -- and, Martin suspected, guilty, though he wasn't sure why. It was a topic he'd decided not to push . . . if Jon ever wanted to talk more about it, he would in his own time.

There were other things, things closer to home for Martin that Jon had hesitated over. Once while he was recounting the events of those years he'd paused mid-sentence. Stammered that it wasn't all supernatural in nature and some of it may still happen, and was he sure he wanted to know everything? Martin imagined Jon thought he was being subtle, but it wasn't a hard guess.

He told Jon not to give him the date. It was obviously going to be within the next couple of years, there was no spitting out that apple of knowledge. But he didn't want to be able to mark it on his calendar.

It shouldn't have felt like news, that his mum was going to die soon. Shouldn't have been the uncomfortable weight in his chest that it was. She was ill, of course it was coming, it had been coming for a while, hadn't it? But maybe that was the problem. It had been ‘any day now' for such a long time, ‘any day' had stopped feeling like a reality. And he still wasn't sure what to do with this information, if it really changed anything. Should he try to get some sort of closure? How did you make the most of the time you had left with a person who refuses to see you?

Martin hadn't asked Jon how much he knew about his mum, that just wasn't a conversation he was eager to have. But the careful, hesitant way Jon talked around the subject suggested . . . something, at least. Just like how the gentle, quiet tone he got when he talked about the Lonely told Martin more than he really wanted to have explained.

There was only one thing Jon flatly refused to tell him about, and that was whatever Elias had done to him on the day of the Unknowing. When pushed, Jon had gone quiet for a while, then said he didn't remember. It had been a lie, and a bad one, and both of them knew it. But it was clear there was no point in asking for more.

"You like pizzelles, don't you?"

Jon's voice snapped Martin to the present. With a last squeeze of Martin's hand, he turned off the flame, moved away from the stove and over to the pantry.

"Um, dunno?" Martin said, pulling his thoughts back together. "Never tried them."

"Really?" Jon frowned, pausing halfway to the cabinet door. Then he shrugged. "Well, no matter. You will."

Martin rolled his eyes. Jon spoke with so much more authority than anyone deserved to hold over another person's cookie preferences, and he couldn't help feeling contrary.

"No. You stepped on a butterfly last week and set off a chain of events that forever changed my feelings on pizzelles, I hate them now."

"That's all right," Jon said, popping open the plastic package and arranging the cookies on a plate. "If you don't want these, there's also canned peaches for dessert."

"Oh, don't you dare --"

Jon snickered, picking out a broken piece of one of the large, thin cookies and holding it out, just short of passing it into Martin's mouth. With an annoyed grunt, Martin leaned forward, taking a bite.

Damn it. It was really, really good.

---

Jon sank into the couch, pleasantly full and a little bit tired. He leaned back and listened to the sound of running water coming from the next room.

Martin had insisted on doing the dishes, on the basis that Jon had done "all the real work" of cooking. He wasn't sure that was true, but didn't argue. Just asked that he leave everything in the drainboard when he was finished so Jon could put it away later. He knew he'd be frustrated for hours if the dishes weren't where he expected them to be.

There were so many frustrations in his life now. His O&M instructor had promised he'd learn new ways to move through the world, that in time the frustrations would be fewer and fewer, and he'd find himself capable of nearly everything he'd done before the loss of his sight. Jon believed her, but it didn't make the prospect of getting there any less daunting. Nor did it make the learning process any easier.

The worst were the things his instructor would never understand, that no resource or guidebook would mention. The dread that gripped him when he became disoriented and found a door where he wasn't expecting one. The phantom tickles on his body that prompted him to pat himself down for spiders again and again.

Still. He was alive. The others were freed from the institute, and he was there with them, to struggle and to mourn and to continue on.

A part of him would always fear it had been a mistake. That the Web, or the Eye, or some other power still had plans for him that would reach apotheosis someday. Maybe he saw the fear as vigilance, as though something was waiting for him to feel safe so that it could rip that security from him. And as long as he never allowed himself to be truly, entirely at ease, that day would never come.

Irrational, perhaps. But it was so hard to tell anymore which irrational fears were truly irrational, and which would one day manifest with teeth and claws.

Even if nothing ever came for him, they had only bought the world some time. One day, maybe soon, someone would figure it out and attempt a ritual again. Maybe there would be others out there who would catch it in time, postponing the end over and over, forever. Or maybe someone would do it next week, and Jon would be plunged along with everyone else into unspeakable suffering until Terminus claimed them all. He could follow Gertrude's path if he chose, devote his life to stopping rituals at the cost of everything he cared for. Even then one could slip past him, come from someplace he hadn't been watching, or had been made not to notice. At some point he was going to have to find a way to live with that knowledge.

He'd work on it. But for the moment . . . .

The sound of running water stopped. Jon smiled, scooting to make room on the couch, feeling the cushions sink and shift as they took the weight of another person. With a hmm that came out with more whine to it than he'd wanted, Jon found Martin's arm and tugged it towards him. With a quiet laugh, Martin obliged, leaning into him and resting his head against his chest.

"Better," Jon arranged their limbs more comfortably. Martin's hands were still cold, and he smelled faintly of dish soap.

"Glad to hear it."

Jon knew Martin found it amusing, how clingy he was. The first time he'd commented on it had been profoundly embarrassing. Part of it was just the way Jon was, but he also remembered the days after the Lonely. The skittish, uncertain moments of contact, the times when Martin stiffened at his touch but whimpered when he pulled away. The other days, when they could barely let go of one another, when Jon would plant himself beside Martin or wrap his arms over his shoulders, and he would relax into it, sighing with release. Both of them too grateful for the fragile miracle of each other's touch to consider breaking contact.

This Martin didn't remember those days, and if he ever sensed anything desperate or reverent in the way Jon clung, he didn't comment on it. Still, even if he found it funny, he didn't seem to mind how ardently Jon held on to him.

Jon moved a hand into the space between Martin's shoulder blades and scratched down his spine, the particular way he used to like. Jon felt him shiver with pleasure under the soothing contact, and a powerful warmth spread through him.

"God . . ." Martin whispered, "you really know everything about me, don't you?"

Jon snorted. "Hardly. In a very real way, we barely had time to get to know each other. And when we did, well . . . it was close by necessity. It was intimate, and intense. But there's still a great deal I've no idea about."

"You were never tempted to use those powers of omniscience to look inside my head?"

"Constantly," Jon said, with great seriousness. "But I never did. I promised."

Martin went quiet at that. Maybe Jon's reply had been a little intense, or maybe Martin hadn't actually realized that looking inside his head had been a possibility when he'd asked the question as a joke.

"Oh," he said eventually. "Um . . . good?"

"I have picked up a few things," Jon continued, speaking with quiet and fond admiration. "For example . . . I know you'd like a pet, but your landlord won't allow them so you keep plants instead. You can't say no to panhandlers. You have a favorite hoodie that you only wear when you're sad and need the comfort. You like old, careworn furniture, and rainy days, and sitcoms that were made before you were born. You're kind to people who aren't kind to you, but you never forget the unkindness."

"Wow. Okay," Martin made a soft noise, shifting in his arms, voice tight and quiet. "Okay. Y-You're, uh, probably going to kill me if you keep that up, you know."

"Trust me, you've survived worse."

He felt Martin move a little higher, slotting himself beside Jon and giving him a tight squeeze. Jon grinned as the breath was pushed out of him, all twenty-four of his ribs contracting at the assault.

That was another difference, one of dozens of subtle changes Jon couldn't keep his mind from analyzing. Martin wasn't ungentle, exactly. But he hugged Jon more tightly, shoved or poked him when he was annoyed, whereas the Martin in his memories had held back a little. Been more mindful of his strength, as if wary he might handle him too roughly. It had been subtle, a thing Jon hadn't even noticed until he had something to contrast it against.

It made sense, he supposed. The other Martin had seen Jon limp back to the institute with fresh wounds and new scars one too many times. This one didn't have to have those images in his head.

There were some things that were lost between them, Jon knew that. Memories too small and simple to explain, questions he couldn't ask anymore. Moments they would never share, both good and bad. But there was also so much they had gained. This Martin hadn't had an easy life, not by any measure. But he hadn't had to watch helplessly as the people around him died or disappeared or became monstrous. Hadn't been lost in grinning corridors, or attacked by Hopworth's hooligans, or made to feel the heat of the endless tenement fire. And for that, Jon was so, so grateful.

"You look thoughtful," Martin commented.

"Mmm," Jon sat quietly for a while sifting through his thoughts before speaking. "We should go to a movie sometime. When I'm up for going out out."

"That sounds less fun for you than me . . . ."

"Depends on the movie. I could listen, even without description. And I'd enjoy being with you," he said. "Or maybe a concert? Though I don't really know what sort of music you like . . . ."

"Really? There's actually a blank spot in your catalogue of Martin trivia?" he said sarcastically. "Surprised it never came up."

"You only ever used headphones at work," Jon bristled, feeling oddly defensive about it, "and we obviously couldn't bring our devices to the cabin. Too traceable."

"Hmm," there was a teasing smile in Martin's voice. "Don't know if I want to tell, now. Feels like I've got a secret."

"Oh, except . . . there was one song? I don't know the lyrics, but you used to hum it all the time in the cabin."

"What was it called?"

"I didn't actually ask. It sounded nice, though. Maybe we could listen to it together. . . "

"How'd it go, then?"

He hummed the tune from memory. It came easily to mind, connected as it was with images of Martin sipping tea or wiping down a countertop, a bright, easy smile on his face. After a moment, Martin burst out laughing.

"That's -- that's from a soap commercial!"

". . . What?"

"Floors and doors, walls and halls, Liquid Lather cleans them all," he spoke-sang along with the tune. "It was probably just stuck in my head."

Jon frowned, mildly disappointed. "Well. It sounded nice when you were humming it, anyway."

"God. If you want I can serenade you with an insurance advert sometime."

"No thank you."

"Or we could listen to your album from uni," he pushed, the satisfied smile in his voice growing.

"Thankfully we never recorded anything," Jon grinned ruefully, "so that's lost to time."

"Bet you could still sing some of it."

"Try me the next time I'm not expecting to live through the night."

Martin made a displeased sound at that, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry that you always have to come over here," Jon said. "I should probably be making more of an effort to get out of the flat. But it's so much still, even with a guide. I can do it if I have to, but I can't relax."

"C'mon . . . you know I don't mind, and even if I did it wouldn't be something to apologize for. You're going at your own pace."

"Suppose I'm just impatient with myself. It feels absurd, I've walked through a London warped by unfathomable terror, but now ordinary city life is overwhelming. I think I never understood how many people there are on every block until each one became another unpredictable factor to be aware of on my way to the damn corner store," he sighed. "It may be a while before I'm up for anything like a concert."

"It's alright," Martin gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "I'm good at waiting."

For a moment Jon's mind went to a dark, creaking bedroom, air heavy with dust and thick with terror. It's all right. I'm good at waiting. The same phrasing, almost the same tone. Maybe it was to be expected, little parallels like this. Given a person's linguistic habits and enough time it was probably inevitable, but every time something like it happened it floored Jon in the most wonderful way. Some small but meaningful part of the man he loved reflecting and echoing back at him.

If the world didn't end, if he didn't dissolve into spiders or die at the hands of some unfathomable terror, Jon swore someday he'd find the words for how moments like that made him feel. And if he had any courage left in him, he'd tell Martin about it.

"Though, as long as we're talking about that," Martin said, "I've been thinking . . . ."

"In general?" Jon teased.

"Sort of. I've been reading some stuff about adjusting to vision loss? And I know this is fast – well, maybe not fast to you – but it seems to me like it's probably easier, especially at first, if you've got a sighted person staying with you . . ."

He felt himself breathe in sharply, and Martin's words came faster, his tone careful.

"Not - not to do everything for you, of course! I know you can do things yourself. Just to make little things easier, and – you know, that aspect aside it – it might just be nice –"

"Yes," Jon said decisively.

"Because it isn't really just the vision thing – I mean, it's alright if you do need help but it's also alright if you don't – but there's other reasons – "

"My answer is yes."

A faint laugh came out of Martin and he slapped Jon's chest lightly. "Stop agreeing and let me finish."

"Sorry."

"I'm not suggesting moving in. That would be too fast, at least for me," he said. "I'd want to keep my own place, and I'd probably still spend some time there."

"Of course," Jon nodded solemnly. "Perfectly reasonable to want some space of your own."

"Yeah. But if it works for you, I thought I might get a bag together, y'know, just sort of stay for a while? I – hell, I wouldn't, uh, mind the excuse to cook more dinners with you? And I slept better than I had in a while the night I stayed over here."

"So did I."

"I just think it might be nice. If you think so too, of course."

There was a pause as Jon waited, not sure if Martin had more to say. After the silence had dragged on for a while, he spoke up. "Am I allowed to say yes now?"

Martin laughed, nodding against Jon's chest.

"Then yes. I'd be very happy to have you stay here with me."

"Cool. Cool . . . " Martin exhaled. " . . . I love you."

"And I love you."

"More than I'll ever know?"

There was a teasing smile in Martin as he echoed the words Jon had said to him back in the tunnel. Jon was quiet for a moment.

He'd meant those words when he'd said them. It hadn't been a romantic turn of phrase. He'd confessed his feelings in that moment with the understanding that Martin would never be able to see how deep they ran. That he could tell Martin he loved him, but he'd never be able to show him that. He wouldn't have the chance. He found Martin's cheek with a hand, turned his face towards him, then bent down and kissed him, once.

"No," he said. "Not if I can help it."

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 15

(Beta version)

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 3,100

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Updated regularly; will have about 20 parts total.

Violence at the final paragraph in this chapter.

---

The flames coiled around every fiber of her being. She was completely consumed in the blue blaze as each lick seared into her. It was as if her skin was absorbing them, and she felt them roaring through her veins, engulfing her in agony. She screamed, but her voice was completely drowned out by the sound of the fire. One moment was torture; two moments became hell.

Then, as quickly as it had immersed her, the fire dissipated, withering to down to tiny blue embers. Dynamene staggered to her feet in the now-empty cauldron. The pain was not only gone, but it was as if she had never suffered it in the first place. Her skin felt abuzz with new energy.

The witch beamed at her. "Come on out, dear. Take a look at your new self." She pulled a dusty full-length mirror out from behind one armoire.

Dynamene carefully stepped out and stood before the glass. Someone that she'd known only in her dreams stared back at her.

She was still herself, but in the best way; she had no other words to describe it. Her skin was radiant and free of any tiny flaw, though her speckling of freckles remained. The long locks of dark hair that flowed down past her shoulders were busy rearranging themselves back into smooth braids; not a split-end or loose hair to be found. Her curved eyelashes feathered out like the fine hairs of a paintbrush. And the contours of her body had changed as well - her waist slightly tucked in, and the burgeoning curves above and below more defined.

"This is... I'm beautiful," she whispered in awe. She wiped away the dust to get a better look at herself. Only in her fantasies had she ever looked this way... So familiar, and yet so perfect.

"Aren't you? So gorgeous, but still yourself. Subtle, intricate magic. Of course, before you get carried away..." The witch held up a finger. "This effect does not last forever. You have 24 hours before it begins to fade; after that, it will be completely gone within minutes."

Dynamene frowned in disappointment, gently tugging at one of her braids. "I see..."

"You'll have to work quickly, then. Use all of your resources." The witch chuckled at a sudden thought. "A little womanly charm will work well to your advantage. Oh, to see the look on his face..."

Dynamene finally pulled her gaze away from the mirror. "Womanly charm?"

"Flatter him, kiss him, seduce him, anything goes. Surely your sisters taught you about the weakness of men?" The witch jeered. "Whatever you do, make sure you do it within the time limit. I don't offer refunds if you can't manage the success on your own."

Although the thought of batting her eyelashes at Poseidon made her cringe, Dynamene pursed her lips with a steadfast gaze. Whatever it takes, right? "I understand. With your spell, I won't fail. I... I'll think of something." Could I really seduce him, though? That's...

"Good, good." The witch opened a closet and threw a rumpled chiton at her. "Now, here's something to cover yourself up. Those flames are merciless against fabric."

Dynamene gasped as she realized that she was completely bare, quickly clutching the offered chiton to her front. At least the bracelet remained on her wrist, if nothing else.

"You're good to go now. And once the wedding date is set, do remember to drop me a line. I love networking." The witch said something unintelligible, and the mirror before Dynamene had its glass replaced with a swirling portal. "Chop, chop."

Dynamene clumsily tied the straps of the chiton and straightened herself out. Before she went through the portal, she looked back at the witch with her gleaming white eyes and hag-like grin. "Thank you for all you've done. I won't forget it."

"I know, dearest," the witch cooed, watching intently as Dynamene disappeared through. "I know."

---

The portal had sent her several feet before the surface of the water in a familiar backdrop. The colorful corals and schools of fish were a welcome sight, indeed, after her adventure. She was just off the beach of Poseidon's palace.

Grinning with newfound anticipation, she broke through the surface and let the sun shine on her face. Things will go my way now.

Too impatient to swim, she hoisted herself up on the water's edge and ran across the gently sloping waves. The palace gleamed brilliant white in the late afternoon sunlight, a magnificent sight she'd never thought she'd so long to see. Fish began to gather under the surface of her steps, keeping pace with her sprint. They realized who she was, and she heard their voices echo up from under the water. The Nereid has been found; Dynamene has returned!

She felt a familiar presence surfacing fast ahead in response to the voice of the sea creatures, and she sprinted faster. That presence could only belong to...

Then he was before her, outfit dripping with seawater, his blond hair almost white in the light. "Dynamene?" His ever-so-stoic face was finally made mobile with surprise.

"Poseidon!" Dynamene cried, her steps splashing in the shallow waves. "Poseidon!"

He stared at her in disbelief, barely lifting his arms in time to catch her as she threw herself against him. He was so strong, the force didn't budge him an inch, but he leaned back a bit so it didn't feel like she was colliding with a statue.

"I'm so glad to see you again," she cried, burying her face against his chest. "I... I'm so glad to see you! It's really you!" I didn't know if I would get to be this close to you again.

His hands gripped her against him for a moment, as if he'd momentarily lost the battle against his emotions, before he moved her back to look at her face. "Do you know the mayhem you've caused?"

Her heart sank as she took in the rage in his eyes. He was upset enough that there was a certain tension about his lips, almost pursed together. "I'm sorry, my lord. I have no excuse. I let my emotions get the better of me, and..." She hung her head guiltily. "I know I've caused all of you pain and worry. It won't happen again."

"Worry?" He scoffed. "Don't think so highly of yourself." But his grip on her shoulders fell away, and one of his arms moved to wrap around her shoulders. "You feel colder than usual. Are you hurt?"

"I feel cold?" Dynamene blushed. "No, I'm fine, really!" She remembered the witch's advice, and braced herself. "I... I was fine the moment I saw you again." She resisted the strong urge to cover her face with her trembling hands.

He unexpectedly took her waist in his firm hands and lifted her up. Dynamene gasped in surprise. "Poseidon?"

Poseidon stared up at her with a scrutinizing gaze. He looked her over from head to toe, searching for anything out of place. "Do not ever do something like that again. Are we clear?"

Dynamene was surprised her heartbeat wasn't roaring in her ears. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out; not even a squeak. Can he tell that something's changed?

 "I'm glad we have an understanding." He set her down, keeping an arm about her shoulders. "There's no reason to keep standing out here. Come along; we should return to the palace."

Dynamene bit her lower lip in joy as they stepped onto the beach together. Her sisters, who had begun to clamor around in confusion, broke into screams when they saw her.

"Dynamene! Dynamene!" They rushed around the two of them as the foam swept about their feet.

"Take her to her room and tend to her," Poseidon said shortly, almost pushing her into the arms of her sisters. "I must go. Word must be sent to Nereus and Doris immediately."

Dynamene turned back desperately to look at him as he swept away. "My lord-!"

"We will speak later, Dynamene," he said with a tone of finality. Dynamene bit her lower lip in confusion before allowing her siblings to rush her away into the palace.

Once he was out of earshot, the scolding began. "How could you do such a thing, Dynamene?!" One familiar voice accused.

Dynamene jumped. "Actaea?"

Actaea pushed to the forefront of the throng, her face lined with indignation. "Running off like that! How could you?! Ianeira was beside herself with despair!"

"I'm sorry, I really am!" Dynamene pleaded. "I just-" She froze momentarily. I can't tell them about where I went or what I did. I'll have to pretend that I was just fuming around the ocean somewhere. "I needed space to clear my head and consider what she'd said."

"Ah, yes. You were eavesdropping and overheard her discussion with Mother, I understand." Actaea shook her head in disbelief as she pulled Dynamene into her room away from the others and closed the door. "Which, as I was told, is not the first time you've done such a thing. Silly girl. Why?"

"I was letting my feelings get ahead of me." The words slipped out easier than Dynamene would've guessed. "But I took my time to stew, and I feel a lot better. Ianeira was right about what she said."

"Said... About what?" Actaea prodded her on, crossing her arms impatiently.

"What she said about pursuing Poseidon. That it's a horrible idea. And I came to the realization that she was right." The bare lie came off her tongue like hot butter. "I don't want to end up like Adamas. And who wants to put up with Poseidon's icy demeanor for eternity?"

Actaea sighed, her tense shoulders relaxing just a titch. "Well... If anyone was going to get through to you, I suppose Ianeira would. The position of eldest has always suited her." Actaea pushed back a lock of Dynamene's hair with a curious look. "How did you keep your hair so smooth this whole time?"

Dynamene smiled coolly. "I found a comb in a shipwreck." Maybe I can get used to these lies.

Actaea shook her head again, this time in amazement. "Taking care of your hair, too? And I could've sworn you were shorter before. Has our youngest sister become a true woman overnight?" She teased Dynamene playfully.

Dynamene exhaled with silent relief. "At long last," she replied, shrugging casually.

---

The rest of her sisters at the palace took turns throughout the day alternatively yelling at and fussing over her. Actaea was the only one who had returned from home to join the search here. The rest of the sisters, along with their parents, given the situation, would be coming to Poseidon's palace as soon as they received word that Dynamene was there. Upon learning this, she couldn't help but squirm. It was one thing to deceive her sisters, but her parents would be an entirely different matter. Once the message had reached them, they would surely be on their way at once. Given the timeframe, she would only have until morning to get Poseidon to make a decision.

She preened nervously in front of her mirror. She was beautiful now, yes, but would it be enough? Maybe he'll finally see me as a woman, instead of his childish servant, she prayed. Poseidon hadn't come to speak with her since they'd reunited on the shore. Dynamene was growing impatient. Perhaps she should look for him herself.

A knock sounded on her door, and she jumped up in a haste to open it. Her sisters usually didn't knock; only Poseidon did.

"I hear you've had quite the day," he said stoically as soon as she opened the door.

"Yes, to say the least," she smiled tentatively. "I suppose I'll have even more lectures to hear once the rest of my family comes."

"Come with me." He began to walk back down the hall. "You're going to join me for dinner."

She gasped before she could stop herself. Had the magic had such an effect on him already?! Regathering her wits, she rushed after him. "Dinner? That's... unexpected."

He looked down at her. "Do you find fault with it? I thought it might give us some privacy to speak in confidence."

This really is a dream come true! Dynamene didn't even bother trying to hold back her bright grin. "Oh, of course not, my lord. I'm happy with whatever you decide."

Poseidon blinked for a moment, then faced forward once more. "As expected."

She rose one eyebrow. As enigmatic as ever, but what do I care? A meal with just us two is the opportunity I need. She closed her eyes for a moment. I hope I don't mess this up. With the spell on my side, hopefully everything will work out.

---

In Poseidon's sitting room, the small table was made up for two people. Dynamene took her seat across from him, wiping her sweaty palms on her peplos as subtly as she could.

The moonlight that entered from the open balcony across the way highlighted the angles and curves of Poseidon's muscular body, and she suppressed a sigh of longing. It was easy to see how the rest of the pantheon held him in such high regard, despite their fear. Her eyes trailed up his bare chest to his face. Such cold eyes underneath those long eyelashes... I want them to thaw for me. I'm so close. Who else but her could get so close to him this way? This side of Poseidon was one only she knew.

"Let's get the trivial matters out of the way first. Your parents are of no concern," he began bluntly. "I hold superiority over them. You will not leave this palace without my permission, so their feelings hold no weight."

Dynamene stared in shock. She hadn't expected him to lead off with something so... Then again, it was in character for him. "I see." It was strange to hear her parents, so respected by the rest of the gods, labelled as insignificant.

"My opinion is the only one that matters." He rested his cheek on one hand, examining her face. "But things have gone unsaid for long enough, and it's causing more trouble than I care for." His gaze sharpened. "Tell me, then, Dynamene. What is that you feel?"

Dynamene stiffened, her eyes wide like the moon. "What I feel?! Um..."

"I know why you fled your parents' palace. I know why they brought you there to begin with." His gaze slid to the side in annoyance. "It was a futile gesture. Clearly they failed to stop whatever it was that they found so reproachable."

Her hands began to shake again where they were folded in her lap. "Poseidon..." She felt detached from herself, as if she was watching from some place far away. "I want..." Don't forget the witch's words.

Dynamene mashed her lips for one brief moment before telling him what he expected to hear. "I want to be your consort."

It was as if time had stopped. His gaze snapped back to her. Was it just her imagination, or had his eyes grown wider? Perhaps he hadn't expected to hear this after all.

Strengthened by the hint of vulnerability, she pressed her point once more. "I want to be your consort, Poseidon. I... I want to stay by your side always. I don't care what my family wants. They only desire to drive us apart, anyway. I can't bear the thought of that. Please..."

His free hand on the table curled into a fist. His voice remained cool as he answered. "You wish to be my consort? Do you understand what you're asking?"

Dynamene felt her body growing weak under his stare. "Yes, I do. I... I have fallen in love with you." Her voice cracked as her lips trembled. "I love you. I don't want to be away from you ever again. I love you so much."

The air around them hung heavy with her raw confession, yet her body felt strangely lightened. I finally said what I needed to. At long last, I was able to tell him. I can't believe it. Her cheeks shimmered with hopeful tears. "Please consider it, my lord-"

The table cracked in half under Poseidon's fist, and she gasped in shock. The stone pieces fell to the ground with a loud boom. She looked up at his face, and for the first time since she'd met him, she truly felt terror.

His face was stone, his eyes devoid of all feeling except for rage. He stood slowly, his muscles rippling with the threat of his anger. "You sit there, you miserable bottom feeder, and tell me those words with such feigned sincerity. What a well-done act."

Dynamene's lips moved fast, but no sound came out.

"You enter my estate, clinging to my arm, reeking of foul magic. And now you sit, comfortable as can be, wearing her face, and telling me these lies. What a skilled seductress," sarcasm dripped from his words. Malice emanated from his body, and she clamored out of her chair.

"I... My lord, I don't know what you're talking about..." She squeaked.

He stalked towards her, and she rushed away to the other corner of the room, cowering. I don't understand! What did I do?!

"You have no pulse, you waste of false flesh," he hissed, grabbing her wrist roughly.

Tears fell hot and fast down her face as she pleaded with him, shaking. "I don't understand, I don't-"

Then it hit her. The deal she had made with the witch...

Something the size of a fist.

She took my heart.

The trident in its wall rack began to glow an angry blue, and Poseidon held out his hand. The trident was pulled by some unseen force into his grip, and he held it level with her chest with no hesitation.

"I'll ask once, then you can plead with the gatekeepers of Helheim," he said softly. There was no warmth from him, no recognition; only lethal intent. "Where is Dynamene?"

The silence ringing in her ears in place of her heartbeat made Dynamene's final moments all the more terrifying. "I am Dynamene! Poseidon, please-"

"Enough lies," he hissed. It was at that moment that Dynamene truly understood the terror Poseidon brought wherever he went. The hatred in his eyes... Was this what Adamas had seen in his final moments? Was this disbelief the same, the disbelief that he would hurt her after feigning care for so long?

She stared at him in anguish. I loved you.

The trident plunged into her chest.

---

Author’s Notes: Violence will continue a bit into the next chapter; I will give a warning then too so you know when to skip ahead.

Hush, hush, darling,

Hush, hush,

Don't tell me cause it hurts.

[demenior]

Dem’s Big Post About The Spn Fics Part 1/2

aka The Wrap Up to celebrate To Exist Again and To Become a Man now being finished!

(This will be a long post. This is your only warning.)

Admittedly this is a bit of a weird thing to be doing, but I wanted to try it out for 3 reasons: 

I love talking about my own work and 

It functions really well as a self-reflective tool for me to improve on, and 

I can answer some big questions people might have because there was a LOT of worldbuilding in these stories. 

We’ll start off with reflective stuff, and move into the juicier world-building focused stuff later into the post. There will be major spoilers for both fics to come!

To begin with a funny anecdote, Why Did I Write These Stories?

I was beginning to write and work out the story that I wanted to write for Spn (what will now be To Destroy a Man. As I was writing the scene, I realized I had a LOT of ideas and while I was trying to avoid as much exposition as I could, it became quickly apparent that I was needing to create my own au (this scene eventually became chapter 34 of To Become a Man). A short prequel seemed like a good idea, to quickly hash out the ‘prior’ events that I needed to go through so all the readers could be on the same page. While plotting out prequel points, I realized Sam and Dean were going to have drastically different experiences during the same time period, and I was trying to figure out who’s pov would be better for which scenes, and how to keep momentum when they’re going through such radically different types of changes. Ultimately I decided to split their povs, which I also thought would be a fun project! And I naively assumed each pov would take about 2 chapters each, rounding out to maybe 15k total.

I had my ending points: Dean n Cas soul-merged and (basically) married, Cas on the lam from heaven and a complete anomaly, and Sam juiced up full of powers and a weird mix of archangel and antichrist but still 100% human and ready to fight God. 

Now I needed to add weight to these changes, so I wrote 200k of build-up.

Am I proud of these fics?

OF COURSE I AM!!! These are the longest fics I’ve ever written AND finished AND in the fastest freakin turnaround ever (both were finished writing, barring edits, in like 6 months holy shit)

I didn’t write a single scene that I “didn’t” want to write. If I had trouble writing it, as in it was fighting me, I scrapped it. Most obviously was the scene in Dean’s pov where he and Sam were intended to meet some other hunters and Dean declines working with them because he’s nervous about being outed as queer. It was meant to be a good scene! I wanted to introduce some new characters! But it just wasn’t working so I said ‘thank you, next!’. 

But it means this story was an absolute joy to write. Because for a while all I was doing was ‘if I wanted to write one scene into supernatural, what would I write?’ and then just DID that!! It’s why there’s a lot of ‘Salmondean do dumb shit or have really dumb heartfelt conversations’ scenes.

Would I change anything?

If I’d been less eager to start sharing, I might have planned out the story beats a little tighter so there were less ‘soft’ chapters and a draw/pull for people to come back and keep reading. I felt Dean’s story specifically lagged at points and could have used some tighter editing (there was a noticeable lull in directed movement between Dean n Cas getting together, until Sam corrupts Amy).

I also probably would have held Sam’s story until I’d finished Dean’s so I could make the two line up better! Probably could have inserted more scenes into Sam’s fic that way, and made sure things were a little more consistent. In an ideal world one concept I had was to release 1 chapter from each pov every week that would correspond to the same time frame so we’d be getting real-time SalmonDean pov narrative. Unfortunately that didn’t work!

The biggest takeaway overall is for me to focus more on what moves the plot, and to make my scenes do more than 1 thing so I can cut down on wordcount and increase my efficiency. 

Of course every writer will find things they want to fix in anything they’ve ever written, so these are minor “mistakes” at best. I’m so dang proud of these fics. 

Onto more interesting things!

How Did I Put These Fics Together (because it’s different than anything I’ve ever done before)

Normally when I write a story, I plan out the beats I need to hit, see where I need to insert any kind of foreshadowing/buildup, and then write from A to B to C and so on and so forth. Hence, this is why I can normally post things as I complete chapters, because it’s all a linear progression. 

For these two stories, rather than linear plot/a normal story structure, I just sat and free-wrote any and every scene that came to mind and then pieced them into a kinda-linear form like putting a quilt together. You’ll note that this is why there’s not a lot of internal callback or a feeling of sense of time flowing within the fic (save for points where I went back and specifically edited it in). How long does the story take place over? Hard to say! Your author has the barest grasp on linear time even on a good day (how many times did I say ‘see you on [wrong day]’ at the end of chapters lmaaoooo)

This also meant EXTENSIVE editing on the back end once I decided in what order I wanted my ‘quilt pieces’ to be. Hard to say if this is a bonus or a negative!

But I did want to try and capture the vibe of the lives they lead, as a bit of a ‘slice of life’-style story, when the slice of life is the profound weirdness of the Winchester roaming life, and how things are status quo- until everyone almost dies oh shit!! And then they have to keep living because no therapy we die/undie like Winchesters. Do I think I captured this effectively? Hmm. Good question. 

Dem where the FUCK did the inspiration for a lot of the magic and creature weirdness even come from?

Honestly? Music, primarily. And completely mishearing lyrics!

Nightwish ‘Ever Dream’: the line is ‘my song can but borrow you grace’ and because my brain is scrambled eggs on a good day, I heard ‘grace’ ‘song’ and ‘borrow’ in that order and have had, for YEARS, the mental image of Cas borrowing Dean’s soul to power himself up for battle.

From there I’ve always been enamored with the ‘wavelength of celestial intent’ descriptor that Cas drops in s6 for “what he is”. 

I also really like ocean metaphors mostly because I’ve been obsessed with the ocean and things in it since I was like… 5??? So really this was me just rolling with what I know lmao. I love using (somewhat) accurate scientific metaphors for very intangible things!

I was also finishing my degree in biology/ecology while writing these fics and I think it shows

Stars ‘The Night Starts Here’ gives us the series title and the fic titles. Except for ‘To Exist Again’. TEA was almost titled ‘The Upwards Fall’ because I wanted all 3 of the Main Stories to have titles from this song, but I couldn’t make anything else work in tandem with the series name ‘The Love It Takes’ while also working for Sam’s personal story. So Sam, as always, is the rebel <3

Stars ‘Up In Our Bedroom, After The War’ is basically the vibes of the whole story. TFW has been, literally, to hell and back!!! There’s a bit of melancholy and sadness, a lingering dark, but the chance of a bright new tomorrow and a soft start.

Let’s Talk About Themes in The Story! What were you looking to accomplish? 

My earliest notes for TFW are, as follows:

Dean’s journey of self-discovery (who am I when I’m not trying to be Dad?)

Dean wants to settle down! He wants a big family! He wants to be domestic!

Basically: Dean doesn’t want to have a short life of hunting. He wants to live!

Dean’s journey of realizing he’s bi, and him accepting that

Dean’s relationship to Sam is both older brother/parent 

And continuing Dean balancing these roles while also letting Sam be an adult 

Dean’s Big Issues/Fears about never being good enough for people to want to stay with him (these are effectively highlighted in that Cas thinks he’s not useful enough to be wanted)

Sub Plot:

Castiel’s autonomy

Cas’ fall from grace, to trying to restore Heaven, to wrecking it further

He’s majorly depressed by the end of s7 (before purgatory)

Wants to stay in Purgatory but doesn’t tell Dean

Remains depressed after leaving, but resolved to keep living on because he’s clearly meant for something

After the seraphim reveal: does he have free will?! How does he grapple with this? How does he live in a way he can be proud of?

And lastly

Sam gets his powers back CAUSE THATS HOT

where tf did they go????

he got them from Lucifer?????

sleeper agent??????

Sam is The Chosen One

Accepts that he is More Than Human and to celebrate all parts of him

Lucifer and Sam friends?? Work together????

Sam needs autonomy in his choices/his life

If you compare these to the overall arc of TFW within the two stories, I think I got a lot of them! But you’ll also note a lot of these things aren’t concrete goals that are easily measurable (ex: Dean wants to learn to bake pie. In chapter 1 he starts a fire in the kitchen. By the end of the story he finally makes A Good Pie.) part of the lack of concrete milestones was why I felt it was important to tell Dean (and Cas’) story by going back to the point they meet, in s4! Dean’s gradual change towards his feelings for Cas, his relationship to Sam (heavily influenced by the s7 events of this fic) and then his own relationship with himself were such slow burns that I felt it would be a disservice to try and cram a change like that into a timeline like “1 year”.

I felt like these subtle changes and adjustments actually felt a lot truer to life-- people often change in very small, gradual ways over time, even without realizing it and often times not consistently! If only we could all gain skills like the sims, where we can easily level up and remain at that high level of performance! 

So the Guy Who Ate Satan, A Celestial Nuke that Developed Sentience, and Dean walk into a bar…

Sam’s story in Spn The Show has always been a ‘chosen one’ kind of narrative. Sam is living with one foot in the realm of the monsters, and I wanted to bring that back full force! It really makes sense for him that he should only continue to grow in power, might, and magic!! As the story progresses.

Cas also got a power up! I do desperately love in the show that he was kind of a grunt/nothing angel, and so even when he defected to TFW he was a huge help for them, but in the scale of things he was an annoying fly to most other angels. It really worked for the underdog story of s4/5. In this I wanted to give him a power up, and originally it was actually going to be close contact with Sam that eventually changed Cas into something unknown (you can still see traces of this in ch34 of TBAM, where Death remarks ‘Castiel could be [Sam’s] first creation’. But for a combo of reasons: how Sam’s magic needed to have intent, the entire concept of free will and consent, and how much I wanted Dean and Cas to have their effect on each other, I decided to go with the route that Cas has actually always been something angel-adjacent rather than becoming something new. TFW/Supernatural has always been about free will and making your own story, so I amplified that with Cas.

Dean has always been A Normal Guy, which is part of the appeal of him and Sam (2 normal dudes!) taking on the Very Not Normal. As explained above, Sam’s story is ‘normal guy finds out he’s the chosen one’ and so, in a story about very large concepts and huge monsters and acts of magic, I felt it was very important to keep Dean as normal as possible. To the point it became a running gag to me, personally, in that ‘no matter what cool shit happens around him, Dean has to stay as Just A Guy’. And it’s a very humanizing role that allows the story to have the scale it does!

What were the most important themes in your story?

Sam’s Autonomy

I wasn’t even going to include the plot about Lucifer’s death in this story— that was going to come up in a later story, actually! And rather than Sam having ate Lucifer, the original idea was that they’d become a SamandLucifer entity (this harkens back to a concept I wanted to write when Swan Song first aired). 

That storyline would have involved a lot of mental ‘Sam and Lucifer discuss what it means to live, which one of them is more worthy of life and if they do deserve to destroy the world for the pain they’ve been forced to go through, just to create the dichotomy of good and evil for everyone else’ discussions. There would be a lot of talk about how Sam hates and fears Lucifer for the pain Lucifer put on Sam, how Lucifer hates Sam because he and Sam are the same but Sam’s brother loves him anyways, etc. 

Ultimately that was scrapped because Sam’s entire story in the show is always about how the world and everyone around him manipulates him and that he never actually gets to make choices about his own life or body that aren’t influenced or part of someone elses’ design. And that always bothered me that Sam was never allowed to be himself without having to be ashamed of it, and I wanted to make sure that Sam’s triumph of being proud of himself/proudly choosing to exist (again) was evident in his story

In the end I needed Sam to have this visceral win over his tormentor. As the story shows, in this case Lucifer was abused and put into a position where he was incapable of empathy and could only express himself in violence. Sam even understands this! But it doesn’t change the fact that Lucifer tortured Sam in unimaginable ways for thousands of years. 

With that in mind I didn’t like the idea of Lucifer and Sam having “co-ownership” of their new identity, so I made the choice that Sam had to be the survivor. This tied in well with Sam’s new crusade to restore free will to the universe, because he’s breaking the narrative of his own story!

While Castiel wasn’t a pov character, his own autonomy and free will was equally as important. You’ll note that many, many paragraphs and conversations revolved around that theme and that in the end Cas followed himself (and love!) which ensured his freedom of self <3

The Brothers are WEIRD PEOPLE!!!! And Codependent to a Worrying Degree, but It’s Also How They Survive

It’s very hard to show “unusual” relationships when you’re writing from the pov of the two people who don’t think there’s anything weird about their relationship. Sure, they say ‘yeah it’s probably weird that we still share a bed’ but that’s kinda more in line with ‘I had a nightmare and I want to be close to the person who makes me feel safe’. Hashtag normalize co-sleeping when you need it!!!

From there I did try to point out how the boys have a weird perception of lifestyle in the little things they did. 

From thrifting everything from clothes to appliances to books (thrifting is a valid lifestyle! It’s incredibly handy when you’re on a budget.) 

To never actually having condiments or knowing how to use a dishwasher cause they’ve lived in a car, a motel room, or squatted in old houses their whole life.

I tried to have them wear each others’ clothes or casually swap things as much as possible. They live out of each others’ pockets!

Also the brothers are just weird people!! It’s hard to show from their pov, cause they don’t know how far off from normal they are, but like…

Everything about Sam and Amelia was NOT right like holy shit those two were wilding in their grief. They are very lucky things worked out for them and that they got to be hashtag Weird Girls together

Dean explicitly, in the story, gets horny after killing stuff!! Violence has done a number on his psyche and he’s gotten some wires crossed that maybe shouldn’t have been, or maybe could be worked out in a safe space but… uh… how likely do we think Dean is gonna go find a safe space to deal with any of his shit???

LOVE!!! Love is truly what this whole story is all about

If you’ve read the stories, you know how much emphasis I put on love. Love is the strongest force in the Spn Universe! It’s what averted the apocalypse and saved the world (Swan Song), it’s what created free will (Cas’ entire arc!) I love love!!!!

I went out of my way to not put any definitions on platonic love vs romantic love because I think love is love is love and how you express that is the difference. Neither is more powerful than the other because LOVE is powerful!! Sam and Cas are the most important people in Dean’s life and he loves them equally! He shows this by giving Cas kisses and stealing Sam’s socks.

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine when I have to hear explanations like ‘I love you, like a brother’ or ‘I love you, but like, as a friend because I’m a lesbian and you’re a man’ etc etc in media. If you have to continuously define how your characters love each other, then I don’t think you’re doing a good job of portraying their relationship. So you’ll see that I never put those parameters in any conversation. Dean DOES muse that he loves Cas differently than he loves Sam or Bobby, specifically because there is a romantic and sexual tone that his feelings for Cas takes, but not because he loves Cas more or less than he loves Sam or Bobby.

Which means, if you haven’t realized it yet, the Series + Fic Titles are meant to be a complete sentence because the power of love IS the thesis of this series:

The Love It Takes To Exist Again (Sam’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Become a Man (Dean’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Destroy a Man (TBA)

And now for fun stuff. Behind the scenes!!

What’s Something People Probably Don’t Know?

The demonic fungal/hydrothermal vent growth on Sam’s arm was thrown in literally as I was posting the chapter because I had just finished a 48 hour cram session of writing a report on tube worms for an ecology class (I was chanting my tube worm song as I wrote it) and it ended up being a HUGE hit with both readers and myself. But it was so last minute I had trouble fitting it in more throughout the rest of Sam’s story!

Cas’ orders? That may or may not have bound him to Dean and removed his free will? Were written into Sam’s story and I went ‘oh SHIT that’s compelling’ and then left them there as a ‘guess I’ll figure that out when I get to Dean’s story lol’

Originally Dean and Cas were supposed to get together after having their souls bonded, and have been in a UST limbo the entire time before that. Mostly because I think the entire concept of ‘we just got married of the soul I guess we should try dating?’ is very funny. CLEARLY the two of them were way more eager to fall in love than I anticipated (thank you Cas for your honesty) but you can still see shades of this original idea here and there (especially in ch35 of TBAM)

I never intended Dean and Benny to connect so well!! Benny was going to reunite with Andrea, she was going to live, and they were going to go off into the world and leave the story. And, uh, here we are. I’m still debating if I need to adjust the relationship tag or not haha. Polyamory is fun, especially when I was planning for Sam to be the polyamorous brother...

Speaking of, I can’t believe I forgot about Sam and his sexuality! If I rewrote TEA I would have had Sam contemplate more on his lack of sexual appetite due to trauma, up until he meets Benny and he gets to rediscover how he wants to be a sexual person

Many of Sam and Dean’s absolutely stupid sibling conversations were lifted near-verbatim from conversations I’ve had with my siblings

And lastly...

Dem where’s Kevin????????????? Where is our sweet baby boy????????

He’s SAFE!! He’s in the Hunter pipeline somewhere cause Sam handed him off to Bobby’s people. He and his mom are safe and at some point they probably got rib sigils like SalmonDean did against angels, but for demons. I didn’t have room in this story for him!!! But my baby boy is SAFE and I want to get him back to university because it’s WHAT HE DESERVES!!!!

To that point: god there were/are SO many characters that I just didn’t include in the story so far because I didn’t feel comfortable including them without stalling the story for them. To that point: pretty much everyone who is alive/dead in s8 is that way in this story, except Bobby who gets to live.

[Check Out Part 2 for reader questions!]

[cherry-interlude]

Lana Del Rey Album Songs Ranking (Remade)

It’s been a few years since I ranked all of Lana’s (album) songs so I wanted to do it again. This is all my OPINION, which I’m sure some people might disagree with, but you don’t have to agree with it. This is also a very long post.

Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood

This cover song is just a little too drab and uninteresting to me, and I never listen to it. After the brilliant, sprawling, sexy, heart-breaking tracks on Honeymoon, this feels like a tacked-on track just to plump up the album. It feels simply like a cover.

For Free

Though this is a well-made song, with three brilliant women owning the track, it again just feels like a cover. It fits in well with Chemtrails, but by the time I get to this song I’ve had my fill.

Breaking Up Slowly

It just feels repetitive and simple, something only to have on in the background while my attention is diverted. It’s a good song and a nice attempt at bringing Lana’s country music in, but it does little to keep me interested.

God Knows I Tried

This song is filler. Jammed between the jazzy softness of Terrence Loves You and the pop favourite High By The Beach, this track just feels like it was sort of shoved in. It doesn’t even feel completely right on Honeymoon, instead a throwaway song that bridges Ultraviolence and Honeymoon whilst not fitting in with either album.

24

Though perfect for the credits of a Hollywood movie, 24 has plenty of flair but nothing of substance. The lyrics aren’t as imaginative as most of Lana’s music and I’m not surprised this song found itself near the end of the album.

Lucky Ones

Personally, this song irritates me. It's sickly in its lyrics, sugary in the romance and classic Lana tropes of dangerous men and Lana starstruck by them no matter if they’re ‘careless cons and crazy liars’. The little flair of the verses and the overtly sweet chorus really irks me, especially following the brilliance that is Lana’s first ‘Del Rey’ album.

Coachella

It is a rushed track, sounding completely unfinished and hurried with an unconvincing track beat. Polished, it would be brilliant – but it sounds like Lana thought of the song (which sounds promising in the video where she sits in the forest and sings) and had to force it to ‘fit in’ with the trap-pop tracks on Lust For Life. The lyrics are thoughtful, if not cliché, but it could have been done better.

This Is What Makes Us Girls

It just doesn’t appeal to me. Maybe because I can’t connect to the lyrics in any way, I just don’t feel anything when I hear this song and choose to skip it. That being said, the demos are pretty fun.

God Bless America

As much as it’s a song honouring women during a period of time when feminism was being shaken, it doesn’t quite feel like Lana’s heart is in it. The patriotism is uneasy considering she was removing herself from the American flag and its associations, and the anthemic feel never lifts. It’s a sweet song, but never goes deeper than surface level.

Religion

Though fairly sexy and haunting – her unshaken faith to her man, her drawling voice – this delicate track is too simple and sombre for me to get completely into it. I always want to skip and get to my favourites.

In My Feelings

It’s great Lana has a bad-girl, bad-bitch, fuck-you pop track but this, like Coachella, feels unfinished. It has the vibe of work in progress, and the vocals are still messy (surely intentionally, though it doesn’t always come across that way) as well as trying slightly too hard. It doesn’t compare to Fucked My Way Up To The Top.

Beautiful People Beautiful Problems

The verses don’t match up to the choruses and I feel nothing – not empowered or emotional – when listening to this song, but it is a beautiful duet between Lana and Stevie. Their voices really are divine together and though I don’t listen to this song much, the demos are even better.

Change

Mostly because it freaks me out, this is a song I don’t often listen to. With a basic structure yet long, meandering lyrics, Lana broods over the state of America at the time, which can make for depressive listening. Though it’s a pretty enough song, it’s seriousness is too much to bear sometimes.

Blue Velvet

Sometimes too slow, Blue Velvet doesn’t inspire multiple listens in me, but it is a gorgeous cover and absolutely a showcase of Lana’s vocals.

Diet Mountain Dew

A cheeky little track that won many over, it still is hard for me to fully get into it. However, it ages like fine wine and is a wonderful step into the Lizzy Grant unreleased tracks (especially with the many, sometimes even better demos).  

Burning Desire

It’s a messy song, with Lana’s vocals shaky and the instrumental not quite up to scratch, but this song is certainly a guilty pleasure and great for getting into the sexy mood. The car metaphors are a bit much, especially considering it’s for a car advert, but if you get past that it’s a song to add to your freaky playlist.

Money Power Glory

As powerful and dark as this song is, with incredible instrumentals and Lana at her most dynamic, I barely remember the lyrics of the verses, instead waiting for the rich choruses.

Swan Song

A gentle track that has a lot of untapped power behind it, this is a quiet stormer of a song that has a lot of heart and grace. It may be a filler track, but it is definitely better than some.

Bartender

Even more gentle is the confessional, piano-led Bartender, which is a sweet little love song stripped back much like Lana’s simple romance where she sneaks out to see her lover. The main (and probably ridiculous) thing that keeps me from falling in love with this song more – though I’m already pretty amazed by it – is the very quiet sound of feedback that comes and goes, a fuzzy noise that is very subtle but distracting enough for me.

The Next Best American Record

This song would be higher if it was Architecture – the gorgeous, well-thought stunner that wowed us all when it was leaked. The lyrics are less fractured relationship and more wishy washy, wiping away the gritty sadness that made Architecture so beloved (at least to me). Now it’s been made ‘happier’, it’s hard to tell what the song is – is Lana happy with her lover or is she sad like in the unreleased version? Is this a break up song or a celebration of the romance? What does it mean now that it is both of them that are obsessed with writing? It’s something for me to certainly explore more, but it is paled in comparison to the original.

When The World Was At War

This track grew on me, with the hidden lyrics, fun vocals and hopeful message. Lana knows how to make a song that lifts your mood and this is certainly one of them.

Guns and Roses

I used to despise this song – finding it boring and dull. However, after giving it a listen years later, it is in fact a beautiful song with a gritty feel that is perfect for Ultraviolence. It fits in perfectly with the album and the extended tracks, and though it isn’t the strongest lyrically, the vocals and dreamy feel is thrilling.

Lolita

I choose to listen to this song without the underage character – or romantic connotations of her – in mind, instead seeing this song as a grown woman trying to charm an older man. However, as I have grown older – and read (and loved) the book several times more – I feel more inclined to distance myself from this song. It’s a fun, perky pop track but it definitely feels dated.

Dance Till We Die

Lana sings of her connection to other famous female singers and her daughter’s chosen name, making this a very personal pop song that also reminds of When The World Was At War for its hopeful and ultimately positive edge. It is a little slow but incredible touching, and the bridge is so kickass you can’t help but dance along.

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

This is a very sweet little song that again showcases the more positive side of Lana’s music, rather than the heartbroken and distressed women she tends to play. Though it is a filler song it’s a very pretty one and so catchy.

Wild At Heart

Wild At Heart is similar to Not All Who Wander Are Lost in that it’s a departure from a tragic femme fatale, instead a love song that also mimics Swan Song in that she considers leaving fame for her lover. What makes it even better is how Lana samples How To Disappear, a much sadder track, and twists it into something happy with this ultimately more upbeat album.

Radio

Like Diet Mountain Dew, Radio is another perky tune that is more than just a catchy filler. It’s a little bit sassy and has an edge to it (with the expletives and how her life is sweet not like sugar but cinnamon) that keeps it from being too frothy. Speaking of Lana’s newfound fame, it’s a nice break from the love ballads and tragedies peppered throughout Born To Die.

Without You

Shockingly dramatic, Without You is the ultimate symbol of Lana’s older music – a woman who could only feel happy unless her man was in her life. She has definitely moved on for the most part from wailing her demise at losing her lover but Without You is still glamorous, catchy and perfect to singalong to.

The Other Woman

This is one of Lana’s best covers – Nina Simone’s song about being the other woman and how it is in fact lonely and heart-breaking. Lana makes the song her own, her vocals stunning and lo-fi with instrumentals that are perfect for Ultraviolence.

How To Disappear

I feel that the live version of How To Disappear, where she sung it on stage before it was released with its real instrumental, is the superior version. It’s stripped back and tender enough to feel the emotion thoroughly, but the album version doesn’t disappoint. It’s one of many great tracks from (what I think is) her best album, and has a great story within it.

Fucked My Way Up To The Top

Lana’s satirical, sexy and stirring Fucked My Way Up To The Top was just tongue-in-cheek enough to keep from being too much of a cliché. Perhaps based on her real experiences but definitely a fuck-you to anyone who critiques her for owning her sexuality, it’s a little bit controversial but an incredible song.

Tomorrow Never Came

This song, which is a gorgeous duet with Sean Ono Lennon and a nice nod to 20th century music, subverts expectations that it is a sad song by in fact including a happy ending. I love how it can make you cry with both sadness and happiness, and tells a sweet story that paints pictures of parks and country houses.

Yosemite

The long-awaited Yosemite didn’t disappoint, and though it took a while to grow on me it became a classic and somehow familiar track. It’s impossible to not sing or dance to it and wouldn’t be out of place in Lust For Life.

Hope Is A Dangerous Thing

It’s quite slow – the Change/24/Old Money of Norman Fucking Rockwell – but it is clearly a personal and well-thought song that references Lana’s great inspiration Sylvia Plath. Lana’s deft at getting her thoughts out in song and I think though it’s not a song I often listen to, it is beautiful.

Honeymoon

The sweeping violins, dramatic vocals and the dangerous undercurrent makes Honeymoon crackle with electricity. It’s an amazing introduction to an album that once again has dangerous men, bad girls who get hurt but are strong again and amazing instrumentals. Though it’s not the best song from the album, it sets the tone perfectly.

Million Dollar Man

Like Without You, it’s another song of complete devastation, which Lana has grown from in her music. Million Dollar Man shows some great vocals and lyrics, and gets the emotion out perfectly whilst honouring the music that inspired her.

Old Money

The verses are pretty enough but they don’t catch my attention the way the choruses do. The slow, steady song took a long time for me to really appreciate but it’s impossible not to feel some kind of emotion when Lana lets her lover know she will be with them whenever they need her.

Sad Girl

Like The Other Woman, Sad Girl shows how being the other woman has it’s downfalls but appreciates the sexy, exciting side of it – how alluring her man is and how much of a bad bitch she may be. Once again, it’s a pure Ultraviolence song that shows Lana’s vocals and music in the best way whilst showcasing the classic caricature of the femme fatale.

Dark Paradise

Strangely upbeat for such a sad song, Dark Paradise is great to dance to but also something that makes you want to cry. Lana’s vocalisations and dramatic lyrics don’t quite compare to some of her other songs but Dark Paradise is iconic.

Summertime Sadness

The slow-burn, emotional gut punch that is Summertime Sadness is always a classic and one of Lana’s best. Though it is far from my personal favourite it is absolutely an outstanding song and the perfect example of Lana’s most well-made and well-delivered songs.

Gods and Monsters

The strained Gods and Monsters is a great tale about the evil side of fame, which Lana never quite delves too deeply into but gives a metaphorical and mildly personal nod to. Gods and Monsters is one of those songs that has you singing along and feeling strong.

Carmen

Carmen is a beautiful, sad story that feels rich and luxurious despite its harrowing lyrics of an alcoholic star. The French bridge adds to the decadence and it feels like a dirty alcohol bottle wrapped in silk, from the tentative verses to the unnerving chorus.

Born To Die

One of Lana’s original pop chart tracks, this is a song that never grows old. It’s one of the blueprints of the Lana Del Rey era and deftly shows her vocals whilst setting the tone for the pessimistic, romantic star in the early 2010s.

Salvatore

Opening with laughing – or crying – Salvatore has an eerie feel to it, though it is completely erotic in feel (enough to ignore some of the simpler lyrics). It is a song that feels dreamy, much like the rest of Honeymoon, but passionate and reminding of some of her older music (from the vocals in the bridge that have a Lolita/Fucked My Way Up To The Top feel to them to the continued trope of bad boys and glamour).

Flipside

Dirty, gritty and quite contained, Flipside is a song that I wished had more attention. It’s not her most imaginative song but there’s something about it, from the gloomy guitars to the hushed vocals, that have me wanting to sing it over and over. It also is one of her great fuck-off songs, as sympathetic as it is resilient.

Doin’ Time

Lana really turns this song into her own with the summery instrumentals and the pop edge she is so good at. It’s surprisingly one of her best covers and a fresh-feeling track that isn’t bogged down by emotion or maudlin music.

Lust For Life

Breathless and oh-so-romantic, Lust For Life is one of those songs that was perfect for the charts, and a key piece in Lana’s turn into becoming more positive. However, as fun and lovely as this song is, the demos are a whole other ball game. A little more ethereal, they fit Lana much more perfectly and it’s sad she dismissed the witchy feel for a song that is brilliant but generic.

Love

One of Lana’s warmest and most refreshing songs, she looks at love with fondness and dedicates this track to her ‘kids’. She knows her fans well and to make a song that references them (much like Happiness Is A Butterfly’s nod to her ‘babies’) makes this song all the more pleasant.

The Greatest

Lana’s vocals are put to good use in this intimately-written song. She speaks her mind in her reminiscence of the past and the worries for the future, all with a storming chorus that is certainly one of her best.

Love Song

Tender and almost tentative, Love Song is one of those tracks that is romantic through-and-through. It’s stripped back enough to feel like it really is a private song for only her lover’s ears, just as confessional as Cinnamon Girl and Bartender.

White Mustang

Short but sweet, this song has all the makings of a Lana Del Rey song, harking back to the Born To Die days with her imagery and fallen love affair, but it is spiky enough to be part of her later music where she starts giving less shits. The whistling and race cars are a nice touch, displaying her play on words snugly.

Dark But Just A Game

Sort of jazzy, Dark But Just A Game is ever-shifting and never quite settles on a particular sound. It’s cohesive, however, and clearly states what Lana is thinking in a way that works with the rest of Chemtrails. It’s pretty sexy as well, which doesn’t hurt the enjoyability factor.

High By The Beach

The wooziness, the carelessness and the growth from a woman begging to be put in a movie to a woman who is able to do as she pleases. Lana stumbles and swears through the song but knows exactly what she wants – and it isn’t disappointing men or stalking paparazzi.

Let Me Love You Like A Woman

Some may think it much slower and more boring than a lot of her tracks, but I think it’s a tidy, sweet track. Lana plainly states her love, urges her man to run away with her and lets her emotions (and voice) do the talking.

Summer Bummer

Lana is as restless as a hot summer in this song and it works. Her brisk-paced yet soft-voiced lyrics and gorgeous imagery gets my pulse racing, and ASAP Rocky’s verse works well for it. Though it would have been interesting to get a full, solo Summer Bummer, Rocky adds an edge to this song and compliments his ‘lover’ well.

Groupie Love

Much more flowery and wide-eyed, Groupie Love is like a contradiction. Lana’s passionate dalliance with Rocky’s god-like star opposes the relationship in Summer Bummer (uncertain) but both are just as secret. Groupie Love has the edge of being ultra-dreamy and demonstrating pure love – and lust – without the messiness.

American

It’s a filler track that has potential for much more. It’s an adorable song, almost cautious in its lead-up to the satisfying chorus, and is filled with Lana tropes galore. Following Lana’s stressed Ride and coming before the darkly sensual Cola, American is a breath of fresh air.

National Anthem

What an anthem it is. It’s simply provocative and one of her most classic tracks. Mixing love, money and fame together with a bit of sex thrown in, National Anthem is precisely what Lana’s America seems to be.

Is This Happiness?

It’s muted, mournful and resentful, questioning a relationship that Lana wants to keep but at the same time doesn’t. This is one of Lana’s best sad songs, tearful as it is still adoring beneath the exasperation.

Art Deco

Art Deco is purely dreamy, a song to bathe in. The lyrics are a little bit simple but Lana’s vocals and the flowing, aquatic music is the perfect hook.

Terrence Loves You

Lana’s jazzy song is delicate, letting only her voice and the saxophone dominate. With references to David Bowie, Lana pines for someone who hurt her badly, but she soothes herself with music the way plenty of her fans do when listening to her records.

White Dress

The vocals were a surprise at first – high, strained whispers – but they definitely grew on me. Painting a picture of young Lana loving life and dreaming of bigger things, it’s nostalgic in lyrics but also reminds of some of Lana’s old work – her unreleased tracks where she would serve coke and fries.

Chemtrails

It gets better as it goes on, growing and twisting from a song to sunbathe to into a restless, darkening track. It has the best vibe for an idealised world with something a bit off, and the imagery of pools, jewels and schools grounds Lana into a (very, very rich) normality rather than the glamorous star she always liked to portray.

13 Beaches

Opening with a quote from Carnival of Souls, Lana takes High By The Beach to the next level. She goes from sticking her middle finger up to the paparazzi to simply wishing she would be allowed to live her life without them hounding her. It’s a matured approach that uses sound interestingly, with beeps and whines adding a strange texture to the song.

Cola

The controversial line was intended as humour, but strangely it works. Even if Cola is satire like Fucked My Way Up To The Top, Lana owns the ‘other woman’, the patriotic singer, the sexy and unashamed woman who says what she thinks without caring of the consequences. It’s an iconic song, even if you have to turn the volume down to not offend.

Black Beauty

The unreleased version is ten times more emotive, with its stripped back and lonesome feel, but the album version is just as good. The ultimately loving but unhappy lyrics are full of stunning imagery, and this is a song that would have been perfect with a music video.

Body Electric

Blasphemous as much as it honours icons, Lana sinfully owns Body Electric. The bridge is a bit out of place but Lana’s eyebrow-raising approach to religion and sexuality is genius.

Off To The Races

The best demonstration of Lana’s vocals, Lana plays the glam girl without a care just as well as the Lolita-type, needy lover in this ode to money and her man. The soaring bridge is stunning, and the swirling violins add an air of Hollywood to it.

Bel Air

Completely overlooked (in my opinion), Bel Air is an apologetic song of redemption, a shining and honest track that is as touching as much as it is hazy and tranquil. With soft piano and the sound of children opening and closing the song respectively, it’s set apart from Paradise with a pureness that Lana pulls off well.

Ultraviolence

Controversial at the time and still controversial now, Ultraviolence is about being weak, about giving in to love no matter how toxic. I don’t entirely support the lyrics but it’s a stunning song, lo-fi enough to feel uneasy and haunting. When you shut off from the lyrics, you get a simply beautiful track.

Pretty When You Cry

Lana’s imperfect, close-to-tears vocals are wonderful in this song, and she really lets her emotion shine through. The pained guitar and Lana’s increasingly distressed singing are enough to get you feeling exactly as she does.

Florida Kilos

Fun. Fresh. Freeing. Lana’s ode to drugs is simply something to dance to and sing, and she somehow manages to get the sunny feeling across even with the Ulraviolence-esque grunginess. It’s one of my favourite songs of Lana’s because it’s just so happy, which is a nice departure from some of her heavier tracks.

Cherry

Many people’s favourite – Cherry. It was my favourite of Lana’s for a long time, dripping with sex appeal and sadness but with a cute dance to compliment it. It had all the right stuff wrapped up in a tidy, compact box and the imagery is lush. I still love this song but since then we’ve had the ‘Cherries’ of her next few albums, Cinnamon Girl and Tulsa Jesus Freak. Like these, Cherry was a song that seemed set apart from the rest of the album and was a novel take on her typical music.

California

Simply for It's meaningful, raw lyrics – promising to be there as soon as he wants her, much like in Old Money – California is a sun-soaked dream with a very honest approach. Lana isn’t completely devastated, or begging for her lover to return. She is sad but realistic, and only wants the best for him. It’s beautiful and sad with a crazily addictive chorus.

West Coast

The shift from fast-paced, grungey, whispered verses to sprawling, drawling choruses – complete with weirdly sexy beeps towards the end of the song – shook us all, and it’s one of Lana’s most interesting songs. Lana honours the West Coast but also her man, in love with the music scene as much as she is with him.

Shades of Cool

The snide verses. The gradually growing music. The guitars. The explosive chorus. The nuclear bridge. The absolutely perfect timing and pacing. Shades of Cool is flawless, another Sad Girl but with much more power, emotion and music.

The Blackest Day

The Blackest Day needs more attention. Cold in places, almost lost, but then wounded in the chorus, The Blackest Day rolls with the emotions and is the kind of song that makes you want to fall apart and sob. Which is good, in a way, as it shows how brilliantly Lana conveys emotion.

Freak

Cult-like and haunting, this is the sexy predecessor of California. Lana swoons and tempts in this track, from her harmonising to her pouting “take it to the back if you really wanna talk” - not to mention the rest of the song in its entirely, all elements married together to create the perfect seductive track.

Music To Watch Boys To

Like Art Deco, Music To Watch Boys To is fairly aquatic and dreamy. Like Freak, it has that cult vibe (the chanting of the bridge). However, this song is perfectly its own, from the mix-up of vocal styles to the shifting tone (sad to smug to obsessively in love).

Norman Fucking Rockwell

What an opener. Norman Fucking Rockwell lets the actual singing and lyrics do the talking, the instrumentals pushed back enough to let Lana’s gut-punching first line (“God damn, man child, you fucked me so good that I almost said I love you”) and her blue yet annoyed insults to her Norman Rockwell do the talking.

Mariner’s Apartment Complex

It’s a song for yourself and for the people you love. Lana is strong enough to take care of herself, to be her own guidance – and to take on her lover’s problems too. It’s an empowering song, so distant from a lot of her discography, and I adore the nautical references and the hopeful message.

Brooklyn Baby

Satire again, but it still works. Lana plays a (fairly cringey) and somewhat self-absorbed, over-confident singer who is too cool for her own boyfriend, but she does it well. From saying how she wished people didn’t judge her, to the freedom the seventies gives her, to the warm guitars and upbeat tone, to the backup vocals of Seth Kaufman, Brooklyn Baby is a song to remember for all the right reasons.

Ride

Ride is one of Lana’s best, if not the best. With her devotion to America and her open thoughts about needing other people to make her feel good and happy, Lana knocks it out of the park with the superb step up from Born To Die.

Video Games

Video Games is just beautiful, plain and simple. Lana’s low voice, telling a flowing story of the simplicities of true love, are removed from her ‘famous singer’ image she constantly tried to portray and instead open up to the heart of what she has always sung about: love and its many forms, good or bad.

Get Free

The new take on Ride was a pleasant surprise. From changing the lyrics to show she wants to move on and be happy to (silently) name-dropping her influences, Lana’s manifesto was a personal song that we could all resonate with. The outro of the beach was the perfect closer to Lust For Life, and Get Free summarised the album which took her from sad girl to someone who could let herself move on.

Heroin

Heroin is no doubt one of her best. It’s tense and dark, referencing Manson and (allegedly) a friend she lost years ago. Lana lets herself dive into her worst thoughts headfirst, not so much dreamy as it is nightmarish, but still comes out the other side dreaming of marzipan and ready to move on.

Tulsa Jesus Freak

The third of the ‘Cherries’, Tulsa Jesus Freak goes straight to a happy place. Where Cherry was angry and Cinnamon Girl was cautious, this track dives into being comfortable with her man. It was just as passionate as the other two songs but about religion, sex and self-satisfaction.

Blue Jeans

Plucking guitars, crying violins and Lana weaving a tale about a gangsta who left her, without explanation, and the hurt that follows. Similarly tied to Dark Paradise, Blue Jeans is the next level of that, her tough-girl spoken verses dismissed as the choruses open up and she pours her heart out.

Cruel World

Lana is on top-form on this song, furious, maddened, sad, taunting – she hits every emotion with style. Lana grows more and more unstable as the song goes on, invoking images of a woman scorned and no longer taking that shit, but she still has a fragility about her as she comes undone that is tied directly to her Ultraviolence era.

Happiness Is A Butterfly

This song goes through many stages. She is unsure, not knowing how her lover feels. She is optimistic, elated as she tries to capture the butterfly. She is dismissive, no longer caring if she might get hurt – she loves too much. She is pissed off, sick of being treated badly. She gives in, simply wanting to dance and just be happy. The flow of this song is constant, a little messy, but it has the beautiful message pinned to it: to keep trying to be happy and do what you love.

Fuck It I Love You

I love the music video version more than the album version, the latter being more stripped back. Fuck It I Love You just gives in to emotion, acknowledging Lana is hurt, her lover is hurt, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him. She simply lets that feeling take over.

Cinnamon Girl

Cinnamon Girl touched me like no other Lana song has. Where Cherry was a mixture of emotions, good and bad, angry and loving, devastated and thrilled, Cinnamon Girl was about cautious optimism. Lana urges her lover to give in, and she knows – smiling as she sings it – she wins.

Venice Bitch

Venice Bitch just has that soothing, unhindered feel to it – and not just from the nine minutes of pure music and vibe. Lana dedicates this song to the kind of love that is just wholesome and homely, all whilst touching on her insanity, her ever-lasting love for America and the modern world (her live streams). It feels nostalgic yet contemporary, and adding the “fucks” and “bitch[es]” helps keep this song from being to sugary sweet but instead what it is – an honest love song rooted in the idealised and the realistic.