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anotherkindofmindpod · 1 year ago

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Mocking Paul

Tune In’s take on Paul’s “Uncool” Musical Tastes

NOTE: The purpose of this analysis is not to exaggerate the severity of John’s onstage behavior which could have (at least occasionally) been conducted in good fun and camaraderie. The object is to determine whether or not Tune In is capable of presenting John’s disruptive and/or undermining behavior objectively in a way that allows the reader to judge the appropriateness of such behavior.

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Multiple times throughout the book, Lewisohn writes with seeming approval about John undercutting Paul’s “soft” songs or musical tastes.

Here are five examples of this happening live, onstage:

On page 614, Lewisohn tells us how “Paul would flutter his eyelashes when he sang certain songs,” and calls "Somewhere Over the Rainbow” “one of [Paul’s] flutter numbers, guaranteed to go down a storm with the girls.”

Tune In describes John teasing Paul onstage: “John pointed to Paul, burst into raucous laughter and shouted, ‘God, he’s doing Judy Garland!’ Paul had to keep singing in the knowledge that John was pulling crips and Quasis behind his back or making strange sounds on his guitar to interrupt him.”

Of this, Lewisohn writes, “There were always several simultaneous reasons why an audience couldn’t take their eyes off the Beatles.”

About “Besame Mucho,” we get a quote from Lindy Ness: “When Paul sang ‘Besame Mucho,’ John used to stand behind him and make cripple faces. He had to: Paul was asking for it.” (p761).

During “A Taste of Honey,” John interrupts Paul’s performance by yelling at the audience. Lewisohn calls this behavior an example of “the Nerk Twins’ chemistry” (p1178).

When Paul sings “Till There Was You,” “[John] speaks most of the lines in a persistent piss-taking echo: ‘No, I never heard them at all’ (‘No, he never heard them’)” and Lewisohn writes, “[Paul’s] not even necessarily cross about it—he knows it’ll happen because this is John, and John is his fairground hero.” He also writes, “It’s part of the double-act, one among so many reasons they're special together” (p1178).

Also about “Till There Was You”: “John really had a go at Paul for singing this—but didn’t try to stop him doing it, recognizing there was scope for all kinds of music in this group, to please all kinds of audiences” (p615).

Does it sound like John is preoccupied with projecting a “cool” image? We think so. Perhaps his undermining behavior garnered the praise and approval of a few (like Lindy Ness), but it could hardly be described as supportive of his partner (or reflective of good “leadership”).

And yet, Tune In always assures us that John is being awesome. Sometimes even a "hero."

Instead of dispassionately framing John’s behavior as immature or insecure upstaging, Lewisohn calls John’s attention-seeking antics a part of John and Paul’s “chemistry,” which is “special” and a “[reason] why an audience couldn’t take their eyes oﬀ the Beatles.”

And, of course, we hear once again that John is Paul’s “fairground hero.”

Somehow, by mocking Paul doing his “flutter numbers” John is “recognizing there’s scope for all kinds of music.”

Note that, according to Tune In, Paul himself isn’t recognizing scope by choosing and singing the songs (even in the face of mockery); John is recognizing scope by allowing him to do it (while simultaneously making fun of him for it).

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Our final example is one where John doesn’t even allow Paul to finish his performance, and Tune In uses this to pay John the biggest compliment yet.

Regarding the Beatles’ live performance of Elvis’s hit single “Are You Lonesome Tonight”, only days after its release:

“Paul set down his guitar, clasped the microphone and did his Elvis act, the great solo star crooning his new slow one. It was already going to pot when he went into the long spoken-word middle section about ‘all the world’s a stage,’ which he’d crammed into his brain inside a few hours … and then John just stopped the group dead.

Refusing to be involved in anything so corny, John completely took the piss out of Paul, ripping his close mate and bandmate to shreds in front of everyone. ‘They sent me up rotten,’ Paul says, ‘especially John. They all but laughed me off the stage.’”

So from this description and Paul’s quote, we can surmise that the Beatles had rehearsed and prepared the number, “spoken-word middle section” and all. Why then, did John not object to the corny, spoken-word interlude during rehearsal? Assuming John’s mid-performance "piss-take" was not a comedy routine pre-planned by all the Beatles, this anecdote suggests that John knowingly set Paul up for public ridicule and relished the opportunity to pull the rug out from under him onstage.

To be clear, this would be a perfectly fine choice if Paul was in on the joke and consented to the bit. But deliberately setting Paul up to fail is unambiguously un-cool.

Nevertheless, here’s how Lewisohn justifies John’s behavior:

“This was the way John dealt with things, and he also knew the Beatles must have a solid front line, not back a soloist. As he said, ‘Every group had a lead singer in a pink jacket singing Cliﬀ Richard-type songs. We were the only group that didn’t … and that was how we broke through, by being different'” (586).

There’s no reason to connect John’s quote about “being different” to this anecdote (the footnote indicates his quote is taken from a December 1969 interview called “Pop Goes the Bulldog”) except to spin John’s behavior in the noblest way possible.

Paul wasn’t trying to be “a lead singer in a pink jacket”—he was merely taking the lead vocal just as John and George did in their turn. Did John also stop the band dead in the middle of his own solo spots, in order to ensure they kept a “solid front line” that would allow them to “[break] through by being different"? Of course not. John is simply covering his embarrassment here, insecure about perceived softness, and seeking negative attention.

(For readers who may think we're overblowing this topic, imagine for a moment if Paul was doing this to George Harrison onstage. Would Paul’s behavior be praised?)

It’s outrageous for Lewisohn to spin John's every behavior into something awesome (“audiences couldn’t take their eyes off”; “fairground hero”), visionary (“we broke through by being different”), egalitarian (“solid front line”) broad-minded (“recognizing there was scope for all kinds of music”), and indicative of a GOOD PARTNER, actually (“part of the double-act”; “Nerk Twins’ chemistry”; “special together”).

Meanwhile, Paul is “asking for it” by doing “flutter numbers” “guaranteed to go down a storm with the girls,” “making his eyes big,” being “so corny,” and trying to be “the great solo star,” like a Cliff Richard knockoff “in a pink jacket.” Does this portrayal look even-handed?

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FULL EXCERPTS:

“[‘Are You Lonesome Tonight’] came out in Britain on Friday, January 13, and they did it the next night at Aintree Institute. Paul set down his guitar, clasped the microphone and did his Elvis act, the great solo star crooning his new slow one. It was already going to pot when he went into the long spoken-word middle section about ‘all the world’s a stage,’ which he’d crammed into his brain inside a few hours … and then John just stopped the group dead.

Refusing to be involved in anything so corny, he completely took the piss out of Paul, ripping his close mate and bandmate to shreds in front of everyone. ‘They sent me up rotten,’ Paul says, ‘especially John. They all but laughed me off the stage.’ This was the way John dealt with things, and he also knew the Beatles must have a solid front line, not back a soloist. As he said, ‘Every group had a lead singer in a pink jacket singing Cliff Richard-type songs. We were the only group that didn’t … and that was how we broke through, by being different’” (586).

—//—

“We always requested Paul to sing ‘Long Tall Sally.’ He used to say, ‘I can’t do it because it kills me throat,’ but then he would. He’d announce, ‘I’m doing this one for these two ﬂossies over here,’ or something like that. Girls used to say his eyes were like mince pies. He had long eyelashes and would deliberately ﬂutter them, and though you knew he was always aware of himself, he was so friendly to everybody that you couldn’t help but like him.’ —BERNADETTE FARRELL

One of the ﬂutter numbers was ‘Over the Rainbow,’ guaranteed to go down a storm with the girls. The song from The Wizard of Oz seemed a strange choice, but the Beatles considered it valid because Gene Vincent did it. Paul sang it somewhere between the two versions, pausing impressively after the heightened ‘Somewhere’ and then sweetly rolling down. Cavern girls would get used to the sight: he made his eyes big, turned his face up and slightly at an angle and ﬁxed his gaze above their heads on a brick at the far end of the center tunnel.

Sometimes John joined in with ﬁne harmonies, but mostly he took the piss. Pete says that during one Cavern performance of ‘Over the Rainbow,’ John leaned back on the piano, pointed to Paul, burst into raucous laughter and shouted, ‘God, he’s doing Judy Garland!’ Paul had to keep singing in the knowledge that John was pulling crips and Quasis behind his back or making strange sounds on his guitar to interrupt him. Yet, if Paul stopped in the middle of the number, John would stare around the stage, the essence of innocence. There were always several simultaneous reasons why an audience couldn’t take their eyes oﬀ the Beatles.

Paul took such behavior from no one but John, but also he gave it back and was strong-minded enough to carry on doing what he wanted, knowing how much the audience liked it. He sang these songs well, and added one more to the portfolio at this time, the Broadway show number ‘Till There Was You,’ as covered in a new version by Peggy Lee—or Peggy Leg, as Paul called her. (He was given her record by his cousin Bett Robbins.) John really had a go at Paul for singing this—but didn’t try to stop him doing it, recognizing there was scope for all kinds of music in this group, to please all kinds of audiences … just so long as no one went near jazz” (614-15).

—//—

“LINDY NESS: ‘When Paul sang “Besame Mucho,” John used to stand behind him and make cripple faces. He had to: Paul was asking for it. But John wasn’t particular—he also took the piss out of George and Pete, mostly by imitations of some kind’” (761).

—//—

The tape throws great light on the Nerk Twins’ chemistry. While Paul is singing ‘A Taste of Honey,’ John suddenly shouts ‘SHUT UP TALKING!’ to someone in the audience, interrupting Paul much more than the chatterbox. Paul knows this, and is pitched into laughter. When he sings ‘Till There Was You,’ John—just a beat behind—speaks most of the lines in a persistent piss-taking echo: ‘No, I never heard them at all’ (‘No, he never heard them’). Paul chuckles and plows on; he can’t stop it, and he’s not even necessarily cross about it—he knows it’ll happen because this is John, and John is his fairground hero. It’s part of the double-act: the audience try to watch the singer but can’t tear their eyes oﬀ his mate, who’s probably also pulling crips. John couldn’t do this to anyone else without risking a thump, Paul wouldn’t accept it from anyone else; Paul gets to sing his song, John gets to undermine him. It’s just one facet of the complex sibling relationship they’ve always had, one among so many reasons they’re special together” (1178).

#fine tuning #akom #we have so much more stuff #that we couldn't even include in 10 episodes

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rachthepoet · 7 months ago

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Cherry Analysis 🍒

Chérry, the catalyst. Harry's prettiest baby she is, but concurrently catalytic — for the backing voice peppers the track like the low-hanging fruit of a cherry tree, and the harvested details amp the appetite to indulge in the Fine Line album. And, we've only hit the surface of this piece's mastery, too often overlooked due to its divisive ending, which is tragic. The song's title not only builds on the artist's evergrowing fruit charcuterie but is ridiculously close to the French translation for my dearest and/or my baby, ma Chérie — connecting the plea we hear him beg perpetually.

Harry's prettiest baby. A painting of vulnerability, humanity, and storytelling. It's that tapestry of memories — though messy and imperfect from certain corners of the exhibit hall — that one can't stop themselves from luxuriating in. Even as it causes nothing but agony to experience devastating heartbreak all over again. It's a heart song, the type of song that people feel in their hearts before even making it to the end. The pain of still being in love with someone who's already moved on, and stuck watching them be their best with another. Masking the pain in feeble attempts, but unraveling as it comes out in bursts unwarned.

Here's a deep dive into Harry Styles' Cherry, from a poet. And one of my favorites to praise. Below Sunflower, though. Of course.🍒

Rhymes, Patsy Cline, & Word to the Wise

Oh boy, you get to have fun with the poet today! Because first things first, let's talk rhyme schemes — such an essential pillar in the structure of this piece, that far too many don't appreciate. Or, maybe they just don't see it like the poets do — but, that's why I'll explain it all, detail by little detail. Further down, in the ever-notable LYRIC PULL APART section, there's some color coding going on. I personally have always found it easier to understand and identify rhymes visually — and making it clear and visible to you is so important. It seems like something relatively simple to an untrained eye, but, you see, that's the catch in it all — it's a way of speaking without directly speaking, as in the piece he tries to suppress feelings while pain, jealousy, and heartbreak bubble under the surface.

Note that the chorus' rhyme scheme remains consistent, like a control group, an anchor to keep him stable on the ground. This coincides with the language in the chorus being straightforward, while the verses can be less cohesive, allowing room for the writer to play around in his storytelling. This is where the consuming emotions are bubbling under his surface, which mirrors how, as the verses move along, the rhyme scheme gets weaker (more conversational, more casual, more messy) in contrast. Naturally, as we hit each part of the song, I'll give you greater detail, but I wanted to offer some summarization to warm you up to the idea. Yeah?

For a long while, Cherry has had this association in my mind with Patsy Cline's She's Got You. Cline's song is about a woman yearning and mourning over a lost love by looking back through old photographs and possessions that remind her of what's been lost. The drastically too short piece is a lament about how someone else has the love she lost or the love she let go, and all that remains are these small things and small memories. I believe Harry's piece — especially amplified in the chorus — holds a similar sentiment and story. However, Cherry seems adamant about focusing on just one little thing that meant so much to him — the nickname: dearest, baby, chérie. He selfishly wants to keep this exclusive to himself all while watching the other give their love to someone else. He doesn't want to lose it like he lost them. Both of these pieces are framed and executed eloquently, and I adore them both, so maybe it's only natural for me to draw a connecting line — but I wanted to mention it anyhow.

And, lastly, a word to the wise. I know this piece to be one of Harry's that gets caught in discourse routinely, whether there's those name-dropping or others' encroaching nature with theorizations. Here's a gentle reminder that we will not engage in that nature here. Given, that the principle I'm about to discuss applies to every song I analyze from Harry's collection and beyond, but, for some reason, it felt extra fitting to say it here especially.

A fundamental rule of songs and their accompanying analyses is that songs are practically never about anyone other than the songwriter and/or the speaker. Sure, other people might be included as a vehicle to conceptualize feelings, ideas, or experiences to add more detail — but it's never solely about the other. Think about it this way — when one's watching musical theater, a character onstage will be singing about a character offstage, but the audience's focus is on the character onstage amid their monologue. Even though the character is singing about someone else, the subject is not in view, so your focus shouldn't be on the other.

Once one comes to this realization, seeing this song without a clouded lens, the experience becomes much more nuanced. Bringing it back in, the big picture of Cherry is an internal struggle — and the storyline just supports the big picture, all the little details that inject life into it. Little supportive pillows uplift the core idea. It's not about the ex-lover in question, and not about the action, but, rather, it's about the writer's reaction! Get it? Good! :)

Lyric Pull Apart

[INTRO] Coucou

A hello to the listeners — looking into the translation, multiple possibilities come up, but given the context, I'm sticking to the intention of a greeting. Coucou leans more toward an informal greeting, between those familiar, which helps solidify an existing relationship between our speaker and the haunting voice present behind him. This voice is intrusive, following him throughout, as he's using the song as a processing stage. Attempting to push down and drown his feelings about the situation. This conclusion can also be discovered in how Cherry has a conflicting feel to its instrumentals — happy and sad together, at once. Could even go forth and say "balancing on a fine line", eh? Representative of the conflict present in the speaker himself, but gosh, I'm just getting too ahead of myself now. Gotta leave you something to discover, don't I?

[CHORUS] Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't call him what you used to call me

As mentioned prior, the color indicates a rhyme scheme, and the chorus rhyme scheme will remain consistent. A control group, an anchor to keep him stable on the ground. But, now let's grant a deeper perspective into that. The repetition of the chorus, of this controlled rhyme scheme, is a way of the speaker trying to pull himself back from his own disaster. Trying to calm himself and keep a hold of his emotions as they bubble — the constant battle of these emotions to push to the frontlines is executed in the verses, and their differing rhyme schemes.

[VERSE 1] I, I confess I can tell that you are at your best I'm selfish so I'm hating it I noticed that There's a piece of you in how I dress Take it as a compliment

The first half of the verse holds strong to its rhyme structure, as listeners witness a moment more petty than pathetic through words. Sure, the speaker's not happy, far from it, but refuses to admit (directly) that he's missing them. The rhyme structure in the first half is stronger & more routine in comparison to the second half, resembling the speaker holding himself together more. Best and Confess (green) share the "es" sound, the main rhyme, with Tell That and Selfish (purple) sharing an "el" sound, the supporting rhyme. The purple emphasizes the green!

I, I confess / I can tell that you are at your best: The realization that someone you cared about so deeply is now at their best with someone who isn't you. A confession to oneself about the realization, and letting it hit right in the heart and the pit of the stomach. This line really hurts to me. Lyrically, a relatively simple line. But meaning? Surpasses. And this supports my notion that Cherry is focused on an internal battle rather than the person he's referencing.

I'm selfish so I'm hating it: This admittance is another piece in speaking to one's own internal structure and echoes 2017's Woman where he also admitted his jealous tendencies, and being selfish in said jealousy. Once more, we as listeners have found ourselves as spectators to the speaker's internal battle about the hurt he's experiencing time and time again.

The second half of the verse is when some unraveling occurs, coinciding with the admission of how much of an impact the other has had on him. The existing rhyme scheme continues with the "es" sound (green), with Noticed and Dress, creating a flow from one feeling to the next. Then, there's a playing rhyme that starts at the end of the second line, emphasizing the "et" sound in It and Compliment (blue) — but, the rhyme is interrupted subtly by the n. This mimics the speaker's feelings as both he and the rhyme begin to crack. In addition, the secondary rhyme (purple) is lost, creating a weaker structure than previously.

I noticed that / There's a piece of you in how I dress: There's an eloquence to this line, and I often struggle to put into words just how deep my admiration goes for it — guess I'll start with how I love when scenes are painted with lyrics. Like, you can picture so much within one singular line. Whether an accessory or piece of clothing they left at his house. Whether it's watching one's style soon melt into one's significant other's. Whether — delving into the more abstract — getting dressed in his normal routine and there are still pieces of them in every step. And, to take it further in the symbolic and abstract direction, one can even spark up a debate on how the way one dresses connects to identity — therefore, he's speaking of how there are still pieces of them left in himself.

Take it as a compliment: Naturally, this is a complimenting line to the lyric that precedes it. Take it as a compliment that I'm thinking of you still, which comes off sweet with a lingering tingle of that pettiness rooted in pain. Which — naturally, I'm going to keep reminding — coincides with the rhyme structure, with Compliment being the one to alter the rhyme (blue) [subtly]. And, with that being the case, the "I'm so happy you're so happy" façade is slipping down to reveal the truth as the internal struggle peaks to the exterior.

[CHORUS] Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't call him what you used to call me

A return to the chorus, the control rhyme scheme, the centering point. An anchor. With the first iteration of the chorus, I focused on the rhyme scheme, so in this second iteration, let's dive into the words said themselves.

Don't you call him baby: Lovers call each other baby. The realization hits now, how the other person is out and happy with someone else. The realization hits now, how deeply he doesn't want to share this one thing he can still grasp onto from what they had before. It's a moment of selfishness, childishness, and a moment of not wanting to share what meant the most to him. The intimacy. And, in addition, as mentioned previously, the French word for dearest and/or baby is chérie, which is artistically simplified into what we know as Cherry.

We're not talking lately: An admission to himself, within his internal struggle. A realization they haven't been connecting as they had once before, and they're both at fault for that. However, in the tone, it feels like the speaker is placing the blame on himself a little more, as I have interpreted it. In whatever way one hears it, the mentality of blame shifts as the listener travels deeper into the album, to To Be So Lonely, but that's just a little teaser there.

Don't call him what you used to call me: A lyric connected to the first line, emphasizing a plea, asking them not to bestow upon their new love the terms of endearment that were once reserved for him. And, there's a constant circle back to this, which indicates a central motif. And, further revealing — pulling back the façade — the speaker's difficulty in accepting his ex-lover finding comfort in someone else's arms.

[VERSE 2] I, I just miss I just miss your accent and your friends Did you know I still talk to them?

The second verse's shift is a dramatic one. Something in the air feels different after the second iteration of the chorus has rounded. There's no more beating around the bush, or hiding behind a fake happiness for this person who's moved on — things are now being laid out on the table. And, there's almost a little petulance to it that's very complementary to the song, with a taunting sound to it.

I, I just miss / I just miss your accent and your friends: Now he admits to missing them, and admits that there's something to miss in his life now that they've parted ways. But, it's always in the details, you know? The things you'll hold onto. Your accent. Friends they bonded with together, or your friends to which they introduced him. There are assumptions of carrying out the rhyme scheme that preceded it, with the "es" sound (green). In the first verse, we had Confessed, Best, Noticed, and Dress. Now, in the second verse, the expectation is for Miss and Friends to follow suit. However, that's not the case — the rhyme has drifted away from the "es" sound. Miss is overpowered by the vowel change, and Friends is interrupted by nd. Once more, we're met with rhyme structures falling apart subtly, which only supports the big picture of the song, as the speaker crumbles and loses his poker face.

Did you know I still talk to them?: I love how I've always heard this line, like a child taunting. Almost a bit like... hmm, how can I describe it? Like, you can't take them away from me. Like you took everything else. It's just another added aspect to what he's going through, the feelings experienced, and the overarching internal struggle present. Rather than continue to hold it all in, he wrote a song about it. A beautiful one, at that.

[BRIDGE] Does he take you walkin' round his parents' gallery?

Oh, this bridge. How I adore it.

In the bridge, stylistically, the taunting note is held tightly, but there's a return to the rhyme scheme of the chorus. The controlled structure, the anchoring point to bring the speaker back from an emotional overwhelm (as categorized by the rhyme scheme crumbling in the verses). On a surface level, the lyric seems so simplistic, and will frankly remain so if one refuses to look into the details. I believe it carries a lot of weight, especially within the context of Cherry's storytelling. Even though the line is directed at someone outside the speaker — and one can just picture it said in a heckling whine — it's more telling of that internal struggle over anything. That big picture of Cherry to keep returning to.

Throughout Cherry, as listeners and spectators, we are experiencing and investing in the emotions the speaker must work through in the song's duration (and continued throughout the album, naturally). He's not only admitting to that post-breakup stage that everybody goes through but pretends that they don't — the bitterness that lingers like a cherry that's turned — but he really wrote a whole fucking song about it. He's sinking into the turmoil of this, into the pettiness, admitting that he is not free from this overwhelming bitterness and envy of an ex-lover who could be happy without you. And, something that rings true in the FINE LINE album as a whole, it's a song where we witness the (coping) method of capturing such an unpleasant feeling and transforming it into something lovely through the love language of music. For himself more than anybody else.

[CHORUS] Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't call him what you used to call me Don't you call him baby (Coucou) We're not talking lately Don't call him what you used to call me (Coucou)

Here we find ourselves again, back to the stabilizing rhyme scheme of the chorus. With the bridge returning to this standard of rhyme, it flows beautifully in the ear, but there's a symbolic/metaphoric factor in play. He's not trying to hide it anymore, he's allowing himself to embrace his bitterness, his green face of envy at seeing someone he cared deeply about move on with their life without him in it. And, in companionship with the bridge, the direct address to his lover's new partner is poignant and continues the pattern of the chorus' language being more straightforward.

[OUTRO] "Coucou! Tu dors? Oh, j'suis désolée… Bah non… Non, c'est pas important… Ouais, on a été à la plage, et maintenant on— Parfait! Allez!"

Okay, here we go. The ever-controversial voice note. If you aren't going to indulge in this section of Cherry's analysis with an open mind and heart — no clouded lenses — you can feel free to skip over, but I really invite you, genuinely, to remain and hear me out. Personally, I like it, love it even, and don't understand the relentless arguing that seems to fester from it. It's most important to bring in the context for full appreciation. And, to me, we discover that in the screams preceding the addition.

The final choruses are interspersed with this voice, her voice, alongside his screams. Pay attention to the screams, and each one is a reaction to the sound of her voice, always in this intrusive manner. This inclusion of the voice from the very beginning of the song and throughout serves as a subtle foreshadowing of where we stand now, the voice note. But, I digress — this series of screams, and the final, most agonizing scream is in response to silence. This lover he's been hung up on, the one he's agonizing over for moving on without him, is gone from him. And that idea hurts more than all else. Through the pettiness and anger we witness, there's also an underlying sadness, and it pushes to the foreground in those screams.

Then, in comes the voice note, echoing, very neutral, can be from any day — it's the final memory he's holding onto. All he has left, even the music — representative of his Hail Mary coping attempt — fades. He can't bring himself to get rid of it, so much so that he decides that a song composed from this inner turmoil couldn't be complete without it included. My interpretation? It's like not wanting to delete/remove the few reminders you have left of a person, even if they bring you pain to see them. In that final scream — that scream to the void of silence where there used to be something — he scrambles for a single memory, to let himself wallow rather than be stagnant in silence he never heard so quiet before. But, his wallowing is now compromised with catharsis. And, in all this, that is the beauty of Cherry. Harry's prettiest baby.

Thank you for reading, you’re absolutely incredible! If there are any songs you’d like me to make an analysis of, please send your request to my inbox! along with any questions or insights you might have yourself!

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journodale · 1 month ago

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My other queer songs of 2024

A few weeks ago, I was asked by Xtra to choose my queer song of 2024, and after an agonizing decision, I arrived at VINCINT featuring Betty Who and “Love Me Tonight,” for the reasons in the Xtra piece.

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But in coming up with my list, I also realise that I was spoiled for choice, something that is probably unique at this moment in queer history. And with so much choice, here are my other contenders.

Olly Alexander “Cupid’s Bow”

Alexander was the lead of Years & Years, before the bandmates fell away and it was just him, and when he competed for the UK in Eurovision, he did it under his own name. With a new album on the way, “Cupid’s Bow” was one of the singles leading up to the release. It’s catchy and Alexander has an infectious energy that feels like it gets more intense as his confidence grows with every album.

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Bright Light Bright Light “Snap!”

One of my favourite tracks from his album Enjoy Youth, artist Rod Thomas relied less on guest collaborations on this album than his previous, this harkens back to an eighties electro sound that is relentlessly fun, but the lyrics are also about self-realisation and coming into your own.

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Ben Platt “Andrew”

Platt’s latest album, Honeymind, is very much an album about his being very much in love (as opposed to his debut being a definitive heartbreak album), but “Andrew” is also a chronicle of the rite of passage that pretty much every queer kid has gone through, with the crush on someone who will never reciprocate, and the line “It’s just a cruel joke that chemicals play” is life advice that every queer kid has to learn.

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Will Youn “Midnight”

Young has been a queer mainstay in the UK for my whole adult life, and we are similar in age which is why this song hit so hard, about being a single gay man of a certain age, and wondering how much of the old single life is worth it. Did I mention that this song hit hard? Glad that someone is talking about it, and can make a catchy tune out of it in any case.

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Lauv “Potential”

Lauv was an artist that always struck me as having something of a queer sensibility despite being ostensibly straight, so it was perhaps not a huge shock when he started talking about writing this song and that it was as he started to explore his sexuality, and developed feelings for a male friend, and this was essentially his first real exploration of those feelings. Nothing happened with that friend, but he still put this song out into the world, and it’s sweet and earnest.

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Linkin Park “Over Each Other”

Hold up. Linkin Park? Queer? With the release of From Zero, the band chose Emily Armstrong as the new lead vocalist following the death of Chester Bennington several years ago, and Armstrong is a queer woman who is bringing that energy to the band as it progresses and evolves in its new form. And it’s great that they can use videos where she has a female love interest rather than airbrushing over that like so many bands with queer members have in the past. This was actually my runner-up for my queer song of the year, because I also really appreciated that this was a song with an actual narrative progression—that your frustration and anger with the person you’re closest to can blind you to what’s going on, and that you have the ability to change your trajectory, to start listening and empathising rather than just dwelling in that anger, and it’s a message a lot of people need to hear.

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#Xtra #LGBTQ+#Vincint #Betty Who #Olly Alexander #Bright Light Bright Light #Ben Platt #Will Young #Lauv #Linkin Park #Youtube

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thesinglesjukebox · 10 months ago

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CARDI B - "ENOUGH (MIAMI)"

youtube

We can't get enough of Cardi, which is why you'll be seeing her again later today...

[6.23]

Alfred Soto: A flex that tries to cow the feeble backing track, "Enough" is a demonstration of Cardi B's talent for a contempt that makes exceptions for consonants. No one human enough to mind sits on the receiving end of "Enough" -- this is pure brand extension and proud of it. [7]

Katherine St. Asaph: I think I just took physical damage. [7]

Leah Isobel: Cardi is truly Azealia's daughter. Just like her mother, she can do some truly phenomenal things with a consonant sound; the way she launches the word "sluts" off her tongue or pushes the plosives into her nose on "got 'em thick like peanut butter/bitches is jelly about it" is pure ear candy. The glee in her voice elevates "Enough" past its vaguely tacky brand management, but not past its slightness. [6]

Oliver Maier: Cardi virtually feels like an elder statesman at this point, and her aggressive, carpet-bomb style of rapping would feel quaint and outdated if it wasn't still so fun to hear her do it. There's a real tactility to her flow that it took me a while to appreciate, but the way that she doubles down on certain plosives and syllables while snubbing others entirely is so clearly a strength rather than a weakness. She regularly pronounces about half of the letters of the word "fuck" and it still feels ballistic. Comfortably her best song since "Up" with bonus points for the "How Many Licks?" reference. [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Less a Cardi B song than the outline of a Cardi B song – if I turn "Enough" around in my mind I can imagine where a more engaged Cardi could fill in more compelling material, lines that would hit harder if they had a more specific image or funnier joke. Instead, we've got this, which is not quite there in so many ways that the whole thing capsizes. Dayenu? Not this time. [4]

Jeffrey Brister: I’ve always enjoyed Cardi B a lot more in this stripped-down, straight-ahead context. It gives the spotlight to her technical skill and hilarious writing, laden with punchlines and laugh out loud moments (three shots an’ I’m ready to FUCK -- girl, same). This is the most satisfying kind of meat-and-potatoes rap. [9]

TA Inskeep: I want and expect more from Cardi at this point than just endless boasting. [5]

Nortey Dowuona: "Her" has four producers. "Enough" has three. Maybe it should've had a 4th to fix the chorus. Or the drums. Then again, "Sweetest Pie" had five producers, OG Parker and Romano amongst them, so maybe it's not just the number. Maybe it's OG Parker's fault... wait, he made "Thot Shit"? "Slippery"? "On It"? "Ur Best Friend"? "LIGER"? Was this youngblood Parker on the boards today? [0]

Dave Moore: Cardi B's charm is effortless, so even a track that seems like it was assembled on autopilot has something to recommend it, grimly "hard-edged" (read: dull) though it may sound. She sounds fantastic on the Shakira single; maybe she should make a harder artistic pivot. Pick any direction you like... how about Cowboy Cardi? [6]

Ian Mathers: Whereas some of Cardi's more notable rivals have, err, notably dropped off over time, this is her firmly succeeding in "Bodak Yellow" mode except... I think I like it a little better? The delivery and wordplay are even more confident (points for referencing "Just Say That" and "Knuck If You Buck" without just copying them), it's got a better chorus, and the production is simple but effective. You can get away with a lot when your core is this strong. [8]

Taylor Alatorre: Atlanta's cultural hegemony over 21st century hip-hop is such that a back-to-basics NYC drill track can use "Knuck if You Buck" as its central signifier for choosing violence, and no one bats an eyelash. Not that I'm the first person to observe this, of course, but Cardi isn't exactly giving me much to work with here. The beat is clean, suggesting danger without creating it; the flow is lean, snapping at haters without devouring them. One gets the sense that this was written as a comeback single, but for better or worse it doesn't take the kinds of risks that are traditionally associated with such mass-marketed stabs in the dark. It is the first-ever notable release in the history of popular music to use the term "regular-degular," though, and one figures that has to be worth something. [6]

Isabel Cole: Cardi always marries boastful menace with silliness so well. I hope this song kicks off a trend of don't-fuck-with-me rap songs expressing badassery through fun animal facts and Dr. Seuss homages. [7]

Mark Sinker: So this one has a little star, and this one has a little car Say! What a lot of bitch there are [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#cardi b #music #rap #hip hop #music writing #music reviews #music criticism #the singles jukebox #Youtube

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1d1195 · 7 months ago

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a couple years back i made a playlist called ‘songs i want played at my funeral’ and it was just songs i was really into at the moment but my mom somehow saw it and she was maaaaddddd😂 NO I GET IT THERE ARE JUST SOME SONGS THAT WHEN YOU HEAR THEM AT A WEDDING ITS LIKE YOUR HEART STOPS WORKING IDK WHAT THAT IS

went out with my oldest brother to run some errands today and i made us listen to 1D in the car nwbdjejwh it’s a hit with everyone, no matter who they are, he had the time of his life even if he would never admit it🤣

i’m glad you liked it !! i sat down and really listened to the lyrics and it was just so cute and sweet

hidden writer is so real of you lol. you’re literally changing lives out here and then living a normal life behind the screen, humble queen🙂‍↕️ you’re like our super hero (i laughed at u telling him u took a writing class when you didn’t just as an excuse, you’re so funny for that) i think it’s really therapeutic to have something just for yourself like this, idk but i really like to keep things to myself, as much as i love my family and friends and all that. even if it’s something small (or a hit tumblr blog in your case)

I LOVE NORMAL PEOPLE !!!!! i bought the book a couple of years ago when i was traveling and one time my sister picked it up and was like “i couldn’t even get past the first few pages, it was too confusing!” 😭😭 not for everyone i guess, but i really enjoyed both the book and the show.

SAW THAT YOU LIKE MADELINE MILLER AND GREEK MYTH STUFF ??? TWIN !!!! i read the song of achilles and jwhdidjwhaks i was in LOVE with it, ive been meaning to get to circe for soooo long but idk i just haven’t, gonna get that one on the next bookstore trip hopefully 🤞

i got Love & Other Words, The Book of Goose (saw something abt this online, super psyched for it), A Certain Hunger (cannibalism i think?? fun!!😃), and a Mary Oliver poetry book !! i have this obsession with reading deep, serious, (sometimes dark n sad) books because the writing is just sooooooo good !!! and i just always go back to them, they’re my favorites, but ive realized i have to balance that out with a cute, soft, easygoing romance afterwards cause i can only handle so much😭😭 even if it’s just a cute fic i need to remind myself there’s still happiness somewhere🤣🤣

HOPE YOUR HAVE THE GREATEST DAY EVER SAMMMM MWAHHH😚✨

~🎶

THAT'S SO FUNNY regarding the funeral playlist 😭😭

OF COURSE HE HAD THE TIME OF HIS LIFE. I do that to my bf all the time. I tell him "this song is a bop. Do you remember who wrote all the bops?" And he'll be like *sigh* "Louis..." it's my favorite thing in the world. He doesn't need to admit he had a good time, it's an internal thing that he needs to feel and nothing more 💕 ask him what his favorite song was and report back. I have my bf take 1D quizzes from Buzzfeed all the time 😂

I never thought about how much I keep from him and other people I love, but really it's just this blog. A HIT 😭😭 You're so sweet 💕

I LOVE Greek Myth stuff. I've read Elektra, Galatea (short story by Madeline Miller, didn't love it tbh, but anyway), Ariadne (Theseus is a D-BAG idk why I was surprised but still), I also have A Thousand Ships on my shelf as well as Pandora's Jar (which is actually looking more like a book describing all the greek myths in terms of why men suck and women get blamed for it anyway). I liked Circe more I think--been a while since I read it so I don't remember why, but I did. SO good.

PLEASE tell me what you think of Love & Other Words. I just got it back from my sister, I was rereading parts of it--it is my favorite of theirs so far 💕

I'm intrigued by The Book of Goose! Let me know what you think! I think I would skip A Certain Hunger personally, but I can't say it didn't reel me in a little. That's cool you picked up a poetry book. I'm not very into poetry--I think my brain is broken for higher order thinking. I can only do fluffy stories these days and historical fiction. But yeah. I think that's pretty cool you like the deep serious stuff! Nothing wrong with that! It's probably very thought provoking and I can't wait to hear your reviews! 💕

LOVE YOU SO MUCH!

xoxo

#🎶

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marcusoseman99 · 1 year ago

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songs of the isle pt.6

Debbie: *sighs* why do always wear these baggy clothes, you look homeless, I could raid my closet and get you a nice dress or a shirt

Vick: no, no I am fine like this.

Debbie: oh, come now.

*Debbie takes a seat next to Vick*

Debbie: come now sweetie you just haven’t seen what it’s like to be a woman yet

*Vick sighs and places his spoon in his bowl then sits back in his chair*

Debbie: I just don’t want you to make a mistake that you cannot take back.

Vick: *sighs*

*Vick picks up his bowl and starts walking to the kitchen*

Debbie: please talk with me I think you are making a mistake.

Vick: just, just *sigh* never mind

*Vick walks into the kitchen and places his dish in the sink before leaving the house, he starts walking away from the house but comes across Papa in the back garden with a cup of tea reading the news on one of the benches scattered across the garden, his legs are crossed and as Vick notices him, he pulls down the paper he is reading to see Vick*

Papa: how’s it going, son?

Vick: eeh not the best start with Debbie being Debbie.

Papa: I’m sorry, I tried to talk some sense into her, but I think some of us can’t change

Vick: can’t or don’t want to

Papa: fair enough, what are you doing out here anyway?

Vick: I was going to go for a walk through the plantation.

Papa: good way to spend your day but you will need

*Papa search through all the pockets of his massive green trench coat that is sitting next to him on the bench and pulls out something that is hidden in his hand*

Papa: ahh here it is

*Papa stands up and walks up to Vick taking his hand he places a compass into his hand*

Vick: Why are Papa’s hands so rough I can feel scars everywhere, how have I not noticed.

Papa: You should be fine if you stay on the paths and read the signs but just to be extra safe, if you get lost then follow the compass southwest you should end near enough the house that you can get home ok

Vick: Or hear me out I can just use my phone to see where I am.

Papa: That won’t do you any good

Vick: How?

Papa: The plantation you can’t get service in certain areas, so you will have to do without your phone if you get into trouble out there

Vick: Papa, I don’t think there is anything out there to worry about, but I appreciate the concern.

Papa: I mean your great grandfather hunted everything in there to the point I haven’t seen anything in there since his father build the house, but I am just looking out for my only grandson

*Papa ruffles Vicks hair then picks up his things and starts heading toward the house but stops about halfway there then turns to face Vick again*

Papa: Now be back before it gets dark, ill distracted Debbie while you have your fun

Vick: thanks, Papa

*The pair go their sperate ways, Vick starts walking through the plantation passing by moss covered rocks and giant green trees*

Vick: *deep breath in and out*

Vick: I haven’t thought I’d be so glad to be away from home, this place, when I am here, I feel so, so calm my mind feels clear, God I wish I did this sooner.

*Vick starts walking further into the plantation till he reaches a Lake connected to a river, he walks near the edge of the water then he starts wanders by the edge of the water*

Vick: man, the water is so clear here it’s almost sparkling and the light isn’t even hitting it right now, this whole place has a weird but mystical feeling I don’t if I want to leave.

*Vick looks at the water as he sits close to the edge of the lake, the water has a light blue colour like the water in the lake had been stolen from foreign waters, the glim from the water could almost blind you but Vick can’t look away from its beauty like the water was focusing him to look*

Vick: I have a bad idea but, I’m goanna do it anyway.

*Vick rushes to his feet and starts to take his shoes and socks off then he rolls up his jeans, after all of that he with a huge childlike giggle runs into the water, then his eyes widen as he is shin deep in water*

Vick: FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!

*Vick becomes completely still in the water*

Vick: cold, cold, cold fuck cold

*After Vick takes a few breathes he starts running his hands through the water*

Vick: This. Is. Perfect, I don’t think I’ll ever get out of this water

*Vick closes his eyes then disappears into the water, when he opens his eyes a small turtle like man has dug its claws into his ancles, it has the mouth of a turtle but the face of a man with black hair that looks like a bowl cut but with a hole on top of its head*

Vick: FUCK THAT!!!!!

#comics #gay #horror #lgbtqia #mythology and folklore #original character #script #webcomic #songs of the isle

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le-souriant · 2 years ago

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#MusicMonday Review - January 2023

#MusicMonday is the hashtag I've been using for quite a while to share music recommendations from up-and-coming artists. Always fresh, and always different, trying to look for trends before they become one. You can check December's review for more music.

Welcome to 2023! We begin the year with a collection of songs that are filled with the hope and desire to see revival in individual hearts across the world, with a word from the artists themselves. 🎧

Dynamite Shakers – Broken Space Spirit

I feel like I'm locked in I can't find a way out Everything seems to crush me

We begin the year in St-Hilaire-de-Riez, France with a band that makes Garage Rock so seriously fun that takes its vintage roots, and goes to a different level for a bass and guitar groove:

"We wanted to compose a song that could fit as an intro for our gigs, so we wanted it to be long and dynamic. We were very inspired by the song “Starfire 500” by Amyl and The Sniffers (an australian punk band that we adore)."

Socks In Bed – '75

Hot off the press in '75 Were you quick to write your name inside? How did it fall away from you?

Was it a gift from a lover With a certain verse in mind? Or was it fuel to feed a fire? To untwist words from a tongue so tied

This band from Leicester, England, brings us a mystery in pure Pop Punk form. To whom does this mysterious name belongs? And why and from where did this object came? Take a listen, and make a guess:

"The song is about an old book of poems that our lead singer James Deacon was gifted and decided to write a song about Lesley Matthews, the name written inside the book."

Smoking Alaska – Days With No End

Nothing to do but dust off all the memories Searching for clues to balance out the chemistry Playing it safe I don't wanna go back home To all my mistakes, growing tall while left alone

The days are getting longer and I wonder if I'm left behind It just keeps feeding time The distance is still growing it's not showing any end in sight It's still feeding time.

This band from Duiven, in the Netherlands, shows how Alt Rock can trace back time to an endless drive passing by all the warning signs:

"After ending a relationship I felt stranded and uneasy on what to do next. It's then when covid hit the Netherlands the hardest and strict lockdown policies began. The days after this felt long and blended together, each day feeling very similar to the next with a lot of time to dwell on the past. That's essentially how the song 'Days With No End' started."

DRAG – Let's Make Out

We’re bare to the bone in the moonlight But skeletons don’t fear the night A river of passion’s between us We’re just waiting for a raft so we can cross

Your whispered words are hard to hear But they feel great against my ear Your lips are softer than snow And we just melt into the pillows

From Bristol, England, comes a Synth Pop track with all the right 80s vibe that could easily be featured in a John Hughes film:

"It was actually inspired by meeting a new person and the first nights being intimate. It’s meant to be a really tender song and I hope it comes across that way :)"

Vigilantes – Tigerwall

If these walls could talk they'd say she's strange, He dropped a drink she spilled her change, He found the version of himself he liked, Now it's diffused in the flaccid light,

Oh Tigerwall, What's in your thoughts, What's in a kiss that won't repeat?

Last stop, Lincoln, England, for a Indie Rock song that can transport you with its intimate lyrics to those late nights drives with friends just looking for fun:

"Memories of a car park in the late evening and driving a friend’s car for the first time inspired it ❤️

Also it’s just inspired by that whole dusk in the winter vibe and being inside the bars we spent a lot of time in."

#MusicMonday 2022

We say goodbye to 2022 with this year's compilation. 99 titles from original artists covering plenty of different genres, all representing the multiple trends independent artists are proud to establish. Have a listen:

Stay up to date in 2023 with the complete Playlist

@osornios

#music #MusicMonday #review #january #2023

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mrs-luigi-vargas · 1 year ago

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(Sorry for hijacking your post with my own theories but also its cool to see others thinking about this!!!)

There's also a bit in the beginning of Origami King where you come across the edge of a cute little campground, with a cute little song playing out of a nearby speaker. If you hit the tree the speaker hangs in, the speaker falls to the ground and the music abruptly stops, leaving you to awkwardly walk away and pretend it wasn't you who did that. However! That cute little tune is actually the background music for the main part of the campground, as you find out when you walk towards it, and there are several speakers there, too! So that's a fun way to anchor that song into the world 🙂

And obviously there's the parades and celebratory dances and dance numbers and stuff in the Paper Mario/M&L games - that's kind of a low hanging fruit as far as diegetic music goes. (e.g. in Origami King, you can still hear the parade music in the distance as you leave the area and continue down the river, iirc)

But yeah this theory is fun and I think about it sometimes also, haha. I've personally always explained most of the level/town/character themes away with ambient magic resonating in a certain way that manifests as music. Because, like. Where is the music coming from otherwise, lmao. It would probably be something subtle, something you only really hear and latch onto if you really concentrate on it, because otherwise I dunno if people would want to make towns and settlements with the knowledge that they'd be stuck with some tune incessantly blaring in their ears for all the years they'd be living there XD

Maybe some of the music from SMB 1-1 stuck to Mario while he was there and that's his theme now! It's where his hero journey began, after all. And then he got famous enough that people started making songs based on it or something, lmao. And then it's a weird feedback loop where you hear it on the radio and stuff but also Mario brings the song with him wherever he goes by virtue of existing. And then it ends up as Wario's ringtone in Mario Power Tennis, somehow.

(I wonder if the magic can't figure out something for Luigi - which is why his theme music shifts as it does between games. He's too complex and multifaceted, heh)

(But meanwhile Peach and her castle are pretty consistent! And Bowser has a lot of different castles throughout the games so it makes sense for the music for those would vary.)

(Also sometimes Bowser and Junior's themes share a melody and that's fun. I just wanted to say that, hehe)

And then that's why everyone's musically on the same page in Luigi's Mansion. I'll bet E. Gadd is in tune with it too, which is why the Game Boy Horror ringtone is the Luigi's Mansion theme as well.

But then if the Mario music is diegetic, then in addition to the background music it would make sense for the timed powerups (e.g. Superstars, Mario Galaxy's Fire and Ice Flowers) and timed switches/challenges (e.g. P-switches, red coin challenges) to have noise playing out loud or in people's heads, too. As well as some minigame music too, like the Chuck Challenges from Mario + Rabbids: Sparks of Hope (that song is the same length as the minigame itself). Or maybe you can figure out that you're trapped underground, for instance, because you listen and hear that pattern of notes echoing in the caverns. Or there's people who like to go diving just so they can hear the underwater music (and then get into debates about which region's body of water has the better version of the tune, haha). And when you're in a level - if you're a native, the song's probably baked into you because you live there, and if you're stuck patrolling the same area for a long time, what else is there to do but listen to the music and dance a little? You're probably bored, after all.

Anyway yeah diegetic music's a fun concept, hehe~

Thesis: in the Mario universe, the characters can hear the background music

I firmly believe that the background music in the Mario games is diegetic, meaning that the characters can hear it. Here are four examples that support this.

EXAMPLE THE FIRST: in Mario x Rabbids Kingdom Battle, when you’re on the overworld as opposed to the tactical encounters, there are various musical things scattered around the world that appear to be playing the music. If you interact with them, you can turn them off and make them stop playing the music… and this causes the music heard by the player to be quieter.

EXAMPLE THE SECOND: in the New Super Mario Bros series, the Koopa Troopas, Goombas, and similar enemies famously dance, jump, or otherwise react to the little “ba-baaah!” musical cues, strongly implying that they can hear it. (And since this affects how they move, a player who doesn’t take this into account will misjudge where the enemies will be at any given moment, possibly causing Mario to get hurt or killed, and that’s somehow hilarious to me.)

EXAMPLE THE THIRD: this one is my favorite. In Super Mario RPG, in the special suite at the Marrymore inn, Mario can go into the bathroom and take a shower. While he does this, he loudly whistles the ground theme from Super Mario Bros. Now I ask you, reader, where could he have heard that song before? Exactly. It’s diegetic, I tell you.

EXAMPLE THE FOURTH: much like the third example, in Luigi’s Mansion, Luigi nervously hums along with the main theme. Where’d he learn the song? Why is he so on-beat? The music being audible in-universe is the simplest explanation.

This simply makes me happy in a geeky way.

#i'm sure that feedback loop happens often #free real estate for composers and the like - just hang out in a cave or on a beach for a while #though i wonder what copyright would be like...a nightmare maybe...#anyway i know handwaving things away as magic is probably boring #but its simple and i like simple haha #and obvs some diegetic music is presumably composed intentionally anyway #(e.g. amusement parks and festivals and sports stadium music and that one Paper Mario song from that sidequest chain)#ok i'll stop now 🙂#smb

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donutloverxo · 4 years ago

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His queen

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Note - An anon asked for an au sequel to first night with no stucky but this can be read as a one shot. Thanks to lizzygal(link to ao3) for her advice on this! This is written for @sweetlyscared's 1k angst challenge! Congrats boo! I used the prompt 'Do you love her?' Although this is hardly angsty but it's as angsty as someone as soft as me can get🥺 Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Summary - Married life with Steve was amazing (although with a few bumps in the way) until you discovered a heartbreaking secret.

Warnings - explicit sexual content, painful sex, innocent naive insecure reader, dub con/noncon, soft dark Steve, jealous Steve, ooc villain Sharon, like a little breeding kink, some angst.

Pairing - soft dark king!Steve x reader

Word count - 5.3k

Steve jolted when your palm hit him across his face, his hand circled around your wrist, ready to fight whatever it was that slapped him off, his grip loosening when he realised it was just you. You wiggled your hand away from his grip, mumbling incoherently before turning away from him, so that he could only see the silhouette of your nude back in the dim light.

Although he had been with a handful of women, he never had to share a bed with one. He didn’t think he’d ever have to, he was born in royalty, raised to be a king. While he liked having your soft warm body in his arms, he maybe could live without your hands slapping him, or both your legs over his thighs and hips.

It was customary for wives to have their own chambers after the honeymoon period was over. And with a heavy heart he had sent you to your own chambers, he made sure you were treated to the best luxuries possible.

But he found himself missing your presence soon enough. Your legs over his, you annoying him for attention whenever he was working, the way you hummed a song in your head, how you often clumsily bumped into things, your sweet beautiful voice, your scent, everything about you.

So he went to your room, told you that you were to live with him in his chambers from then on. You were hesitant at first, but didn’t say no to him.

You could never deny him anything. He loved that about you. How subservient you were despite being so fiery.

He was grateful to have made you move in, in times like these, when his cock was hard and achingly pressed against your thigh, he had you right where he wanted you.

He softly called out your name, he’d rather have you awake for this. He loved listening to the sweet sounds he could pull out of you. When you didn’t so much as stir he decided he would just have to wake you up another way.

Pushing your legs off his, spreading them apart to make room for him as he hovered over you, pressing soft kisses, rubbing his beard against your skin, he made his way down to his destination, he was parched for your nectar.

He kissed your petal, your cunt already oozing with need, your body would always want him even if you weren’t awake. He frowned when you didn’t move at all. He had been a bit too rough with you that night, exhausting you, making you pass out as soon as he was done, but he was growing more and more impatient.

Scraping his teeth over your clit, he bit it ever so lightly as you yelped awake.

“Oh!” you gasped when you looked down to find the king between your legs.

Swallowing a lump, because this was still so very strange to you. Your mother had told you how a man and woman make love before your wedding, but she never mentioned anything like this.

From your knowledge the king putting his mouth there wouldn’t result in you getting pregnant. But it did bring you great pleasure, to the point where it was maddening.

Sometimes it was the only thing on your mind.

It was as if you were addicted to it.

“My king...” you squirmed when you felt him push his fingers inside you, “I’m so tired... I have court tomorrow...” How he managed to do all his duties and still have you at least thrice everyday was beyond you.

“You don’t have to go. You’re the queen, the future mother of my children, you deserve a day off. Besides I do work you a bit too hard, don’t I?” he asked before plunging his tongue into your heat.

“Huh? No... I’m glad to be serving you...” And you had yet to give him any heirs.

It wasn’t long before you released all over his mouth, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard coated with your slick as he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“You can stay in bed all day tomorrow. That way you’ll be strong and ready by the time I’m back.” He told you before capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, as you tasted yourself on his mouth.

Turns out a day off was everything that you had needed. You were born a princess, albeit of a kingdom standing on its last legs, you were the youngest of six sisters, your prospects weren’t all that great.

Your mother told you that you’d be lucky to get a rich lord, let alone a Duke or a prince. A King was out of the question. She taught you how to handle a household, she never could’ve prepared you for court or to be a queen. You always dreamt of marrying for love. Of running away after falling for a stable boy and living far away and being free.

But you married the King of the most prestigious kingdom in the whole world. While you had grown to love Steven, you didn’t love all the responsibilities that were thrusted upon you so suddenly, you didn’t like how you were always under scrutiny. Every move you made was watched and judged by others. You still couldn’t believe your life sometimes.

So it was nice to have a day to yourself. You had slept in till late in the morning, having your breakfast in bed before taking a leisurely bath and then decided to go for a walk in the garden just before the sunset before you’d have to go back up and have dinner with your husband before having to perform your wifely duties.

“Your grace,” you smiled upon hearing the familiar voice, turning around to see Lady Sharon approaching you.

You hadn’t seen her in over a month. She had been so kind to assist you and help you get acclimated to your duties, you’d always be grateful to her.

“I thought you were under the weather,” she frowned. It was the excuse you had given to skip court with your ladies that day. Which wasn’t a complete lie. You were a little sore between your legs. But a warm bath had fixed that.

“I’m feeling quite better,” you said, standing upright, a dignified smile on your face--formal and curt.

Always be formal and curt with everyone. Your instinct was to hug her when you saw her after her month long trip, like you would to any of your sisters or friends, but you must always act like a queen since you were one.

“How was your trip?” you asked her as she hooked her arm in yours so you could both resume walking.

“It went alright. Mama wants to marry me off to the Duke Stark, the trip was some sort of matchmaking ploy,” she snorted.

“What’s wrong with Stark? He seems so charming.” You remember meeting him at your coronation ceremony. Where he had got you beautiful pearls from an exotic country.

“He maybe charming, but at the end of the day - he’s manwhore.”

You gasped incredulously, your hand over your mouth as you looked around to make sure your maids didn’t hear you, “Lady Sharon,” you chastised her, “We can’t use that sort of language.”

“Forgive me, your grace,” she apologized, “I often forget how naive you are.”

“What? Naive?” you huffed. “Not using such filthy language hardly makes me naive.”

“Live a little, all royals are debauched in one way or another. I’m surprised to see just how much of a square you are.”

“Is... is being a square a bad thing?” You wanted to know. You never thought of yourself as a conformist, in fact your mother used to tell you you’ll die an old maid if you didn’t start acting more like a lady and less like a spoilt brat.

“Sometimes it is...” she pondered. “Well, for instance, being a square in bed might be boring for some men.”

“What?” you gasped again. Tightening your grip on her arm and walking at a faster pace to put some distance between you and your maids, “Give us a minute,” you told them.

“Lady Sharon,” you looked into her blue eyes, much like your husbands but a little darker, “Have you ever been with a man?”

“I have,” she shrugged. “Just the one. He was my true love.”

“Bu – but you aren’t married.” You frowned.

“So?”

“So, how can you make love to anyone if you aren’t married...” Your mother had told you that making love only ever happened between a man and his wife.

“I... you do know what making love entails right? This is what I meant when I said you were too much of a square,” she chuckled.

“Don’t... don’t make fun of me...” you pouted.

“I’m sorry, your grace, it’s just,” she put a hand over her mouth as she cleared her throat, “Really funny. Two people, who aren’t married, can make love. Being married is good but not a requirement.”

“I suppose that makes sense, me and his majesty could do it even if we weren’t married...”

“Is he happy with you?” she wanted to know.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just, you don’t know much about physical relations, and there needs to be a certain level of knowledge and experience for it to be good at it.”

“Do you think he is unsatisfied with me?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she shrugged. “Does he seem unsatisfied?”

He was always asking for it. Which you preferred, because you’d die of embarrassment if you ever had to initiate it. You couldn’t go for too long without it either. He had went on a hunting trip for just a couple of days and you wanted to jump on him and keep him in your bed as soon as you saw him.

Why would he ask for it again and again if he was satisfied?

“I’m not sure... since you know so much about it would you give me some advice?”

“My, I would’ve thought you’d call me a harlot or a whore instead you’re asking for advice...” she smirked.

“Oh, I would never. That is what my mother would say, probably, but you’re my friend. Besides, I would want to make love to Steve even if we weren’t married, and if he was a stable boy.”

“A stable boy?” she quirked a blonde brow.

“Yes! And I would be me, a princess. It’s just a silly dream I used to have,” you shrugged. “What happened to your love? The one you lost?”

“He got married to someone else,” she stated. And although she was firm and sophisticated as always, you could hear his voice wavering and how much pain she was in.

“Oh my... I am so sorry, Sharon,” you said, engulfing her in a hug to comfort her, now that you do actually love someone, now that you know what loving someone deeply means, how overwhelming it can be, you couldn’t even imagine what losing that love would feel like. “You’ll find someone better.”

“There is no one better, your grace. But I’ll give you some advice,” she pulled away from you, putting some distance between you both, “You have to pay special attention to his balls. Many ladies tend to forget them.”

“Ball...? Like toys? I don’t believe he has any.”

“Your grace,” she rolled her eyes as she snickered, “He does have them. That is where your children will come from.”

“Um... what? Wouldn’t they come from...” you looked down, to the place between your legs. That’s where kids come from. That’s what you had been told.

“Well, yes, that is where they will pop out of. But the balls... the ones right behind his manhood, that’s where his seed comes from.”

“Oh...” you nodded as you realised what she was talking about. “So... what about the... balls?”

“Just pay special attention to them. He would like that. Suck on them, tug on them... but gently!” she chuckled as she realised she would have to talk down to you since you were so inexperienced.

“Oh... alright... anything else I can do?”

“Try to be more... active... instead of just sitting there and taking it you know?”

“Alright. I think I get the gist of it.”

“You ready for me, petal?” Steven asked as he looked down at you, naked and vulnerable, so beautiful and all his. He nudged his cock against your intimate lips, prodding at your entrance as he awaited your answer. He knew he could be too much for you sometimes, he was trying to do better. So he could make you love him at least half of as much as he loves you.

“Mm-hm... but um...” you trailed off. Not exactly knowing how you would go about asking to suck his balls.

“What?”

“I was just wondering if... I could... do that...” you fluttered your lashes, that usually got you whatever you wanted from him.

“And what is ‘that’?”

“You know... when you make me put my mouth on you...”

He didn’t usually make you use your mouth.

Most of the times Steven had a strict unofficial schedule he followed when it came to lovemaking. He wasn’t someone who liked or embraced change, he was always strategic, as a king and as your husband.

He’d kiss you till you were out of breath, then your neck, and then your breasts, he’d spend a long amount of time there, maybe because you liked that the most probably. And then he’d use his fingers to work you up, tasting you, eating you out and drinking your nectar.

That drove you mad, till you were on the brink of insanity.

You loved it as much as you hated it. You had never felt so out of control in your entire life. Not even when your parents told you they were going to marry you off to a kingdom far away, to a man you had never even met before.

Steven would complain that you thrashed and moved around too much, although he would encourage you to make all the noise that you wished. He pinned you down by your hips. Sometimes he’d make you make once, twice, thrice, it depended on how desperate he was to get his own release.

And then he’d have you on your back. Whispering the filthiest things to you as he fucked you, filled you up with his seed.

He’d hold you close to him, kissing your hair, kissing your cheeks and touching your ever so intimately. That was when you were the most clingy, you’d hold on so tightly to him. You were more vulnerable than usual. You would tell him about how, even though you love being the queen and his wife, it was so new and overwhelming, how you miss your family and your old life. How things had changed and so drastically. He’d always tell you that it would all be okay. That he would take care of you and never let anything bad ever happen to you.

Then he’d have you on your hands and knees. He told you he liked looking at your behind and spanking it.

After that you’d both fall asleep. Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and nudge you awake to love you some more. But he rarely ever made you suck him off.

“You wanna suck my cock?” he smirked as you meekly nodded. “Go right ahead then, petal. It’s all yours now, you don’t have to ask,” he told you as he sat up on his knees.

You looked at his cock. Hard and standing tall and proud up against his stomach. You now knew that being aroused made him hard and much much bigger. Maybe that’s why it’s often such a tasking job to take him--often leaving your cunt so sore.

Soft dark golden hair, much like that of his beard, and then you noticed them. His twin balls.

You took a deep breath as you took him in your mouth, suckling on his head, following your instincts and what he had taught you.

Your hand coming up and cupping his balls, massaging them gently in your hand. You stopped when you felt him go stiff.

Pulling his cock out of your mouth you looked up at him. “Did I do something wrong?” as you wiped your spittle and his preejaculate off your mouth.

“No,” he shook his head. It wasn’t often that he was stunned. Not ever really. But you, taking that kind of initiative, to touch him without him asking for you to, did shock him just a little.

He held onto the back of your head, bringing his balls just next to your mouth, against your soft lips, “Suck on them,” he told you.

You suckled at one, working the other one with your hand as he pulled at the roots of your head.

“Fuck! Stop!” he heaved, pulling you away, “I have to save it for your beautiful cunt, my queen,” he told you as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before he pushed you back down on the mattress.

Swiftly entering you, you were still as tight as the night of your wedding, which meant he had to be patient while fucking you, and he tried. He really did. But he was not a patient man. Especially not when you had just put your mouth on him and worked your magic in mere seconds.

He put most of his weight on you as he slowly pushed in and out of you, your face scrunched up in pleasure as you dug your nails into his shoulders.

With your pussy hugging him so well, almost as if it was made for him, as if you were made by the gods just for him.

“What have you done to me?” he rasped, touching his damp forehead to yours. You had weaved some sort of magic on him, making him crazy for you. Now it was hard to tell where he ended and you began.

You pressed a hand against your mouth to stop from giggling or making any sort of noise. Resting your back against the cool surface of the throne. You chose the back of the throne in the court as your place of hiding. Maybe it wasn’t the most strategic ploy but you were playing against a six year old.

Lila Barton had asked to play hide and seek with you. Only to receive a scolding from her nanny--to not bother the queen with such trivial matters.

It was as if you were reliving your childhood. You always felt you were made to grow up and be a lady too fast. With your mother and sisters telling you how important it was to act mature and be a lady, or you wouldn’t be able to marry well. Or marry at all.

So you jumped at the first opportunity to play with the kid. Making her count to twenty before looking for a place to hide. You had to go get your lessons for sewing so you didn’t have a lot of time, you hoped she would find you soon.

“But you’re not even considering it!”

You perked up when you heard the familiar voice, it was Lady Sharon! You had to thank her for all her advice, things had been going great with Steven ever since you listened to her. He had been opening up to you as well, although he was still as voracious in his love making. If anything... he wanted you even more now. Which you didn’t think could even be possible.

But some part of you absolutely loved it. And you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You peaked out to see her, to maybe call her to join you on the floor, hiding behind the large throne. You frowned when you saw that she was holding onto Steven’s arm, looking up at him with a certain desperation in her eyes.

“There is nothing to consider. I’m a married man. It would be adultery – a crime,” he stated.

“Bu – but you promised, you told me you didn’t love her. You said you didn’t have any other choice. I’m not asking you to leave her for me, I know that’s not possible. I’m not a fucking idiot like her.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth again to keep your sobs in, tears streaming down your face as you watched your husband, and his lover, have a lovers quarrel.

You couldn’t hear any more of it. Couldn’t bear it breaking your heart anymore than it already had. You quickly got up, fleeing out of the room by the back entrance - which the servants often used.

“You watch your mouth when you speak of the queen,” he yanked his arm free of her, putting some distance between himself and her, “I didn’t make any promises like that. I told you I intended to be faithful to her even if I didn’t love her.”

He knew it was a mistake to ever get involved with Sharon. He never wanted to be a womanizer. But he had his needs. He didn’t think she would become so obsessed with him. He had broken off their short fling as soon as he became betrothed to you.

He felt responsible for all the rumours about him and her and her ruined reputation. So he had arranged for her to marry his good friend Stark but she had her mind set on him.

“I like the queen. She’s a good friend of mine. I don’t intend to replace her,” she explained. She had no interest in being a queen and having such tedious and boring responsibilities anyway—the power and the status that came along with it just wasn’t worth the hassle. She pitied you and how you just weren’t made for the job.

“But she can’t satisfy you, she can’t give you what you need-- What I can give you,” Being the Kings mistress would probably be better than being a Duchess and marrying some boring old man.

“Won’t you even think about it?”

“No I won’t. And you are to never speak of this again,” he warned her.

“Your grace...” Lydia was completely confused. Standing there with your dress in her hands as you frantically stuffed your clothes in a chest.

She had never seen two people as in love as you and the king. When she first met you, it didn’t seem as if you and Steven would make a good couple. She assumed your marriage would be like any other she had seen. Cold and distant.

Steve had never been smitten with a woman, she always felt there maybe something wrong with him. But he had grown so fond of you in such a short time. Even going as far as asking you to live with him in his chambers. Having the king around often made her duties to you challenging. But she was happy for you.

“I don’t understand. What wrong? Why do you want to leave so suddenly.” Does the king approve of your sudden departure? If not would she get in trouble for it?

“He lied to me,” you sobbed. “I thought--” you let out a hiccup.

“Calm down,” she said as she rubbed your forearms. She wasn’t afraid to touch you in such friendly ways, you weren’t as stuck up as most royals.

You took a deep breath as you tried to explain to your handmaiden why you both had to leave as soon as possible. Before Steven gets back. You’ll move all your things to the room you were supposed to live in and just lock him out of your chambers.

“I would’ve been fine living on my own. Just being a wife and a queen. But he made me believe... that we could be more. That he loved me. It’s not true,” you shook your head. “He lied. He has another lover.”

“Oh,” she let out. She was disappointed on your behalf but not surprised. It would be strange if the king didn’t have any other lovers. “I’m sorry, your grace.”

“I’ll be fine,” you sniffled. “This'll be a good lesson for me. My mother always told me I have my head in the clouds and should live in reality. That’ll teach me to dream.”

It was almost funny for her to watch you babble nonsense, stable boys, princesses and backstabbing friends, take a break to cry your heart out and then resume packing and trying to order all the other servants.

“What’s going on here?”

Everyone stopped moving as soon as they heard the kings voice. He of course looked at the Lydia for an explanation.

“The queen wants us to...”

“I’m moving back to my old chambers,” you briskly walked to him, standing right in front of him, looking him in the eye. He was much taller than you, making you crane your neck to actually get a good look at him, but you still tried to look intimidating and confrontational.

“Why?” he frowned. “Put everything back just as it was,” he ordered everyone.

“No!” you stomped your foot, looking very much like an indignant child who had his toy taken away, than a queen, “Don’t! We’re moving!” But of course nobody would listen to you over Steven. Not just because he was their king, but also because he was much more intimidating than you.

“Stop it!” he reprimanded you. “Whatever troubles you may have, we can sort them out together, but you are not moving back. And that’s the end of that.”

“No! I’m leaving! I’d like to see you try to stop me!” You hmphed. Pushing past him and making way for the door. You didn’t need to take your things with you now, you could just send for them later.

You screamed bloody murder when you felt Stevens arm around your stomach, as he threw you over his shoulder in the blink of an eye, “HELP!!” You yelled at the guards and your maids, who didn’t want to get involved, quickly scurrying out of the room.

“Ring the bell if you need anything, your grace,” Lydia said on her way out to you before she closed the door. It didn’t seem as if the king intended to do any real harm to you so she wasn’t that worried about you.

You kept on hitting his back, thrashing around his hold to break free, “Put me down!”

He threw you on your marital bed, his fingers making quick work of ridding him of his clothes so he could show you how he was just never going to let you go.

“Why do you even care? If I leave or not? You can just call for your lover!”

“My lover?” he frowned as he tried to push your skirts up your legs, which was proving to be a difficult task. Maybe he should’ve asked the maids to undress you before making them leave.

“Do you love her?” you asked, looking up at him and stopping your futile resistance for a few moments, your lips wobbly as you felt your vision blue with tears. You were born a princess, living a relatively sheltered life, never knowing pain so unbearable. As if you would never recover from this, you would never be the same.

You would never believe in love again.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, petal,” he said, getting frustrated with all the buttons and ties on your dress and ripping your skirt apart. Which he regretted, just a little because you started crying again.

“No! I like this dress.”

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you a hundred more.” He said as he hovered over you, diving in to kiss your beautiful lips and make you stop saying such preposterous things.

You sniffled as you tried to push him away, making him gather your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.

“Stop it,” he told you. “When will you understand that you belong to me now? If I say you have to live with me, here, then that’s what you’ll do.”

“I’m not your slave,” you retorted as you tried to wiggle your hands out of his grip.

“Stop listening to rumors! There are plenty going around. I do not have a lover.”

“No. I saw it with my own eyes. You and Lady Sharon. Just this afternoon.”

“What did you see?”

“I... she said she was your lover...?” You tried to think of what exactly had been said between them. But you couldn’t remember. You were blinded by your fury and your sorrow.

“We used to be lovers, before you and I ever met, but not anymore. I could never think of another, I could never love anyone else,” he said softly as he touched your cheek with his other hand, “You want to know why?”

“Why?” you pouted, feeling a little stupid now.

“Because you’ve ruined me, my queen. You’ve made me a lovesick fool. I could never love anyone else the way I love you. Do you want to know how much I love you?” he asked as you meekly nodded.

Pulling his cock out of breaches, he pushed your skirts up, exposing your thighs to him, he rubbed his cock along the slick of your pussy.

“Did fighting with me make you wet, my queen?” he asked, making you avert your gaze.

“I...” it was the way he had simply thrown you around, how he just wouldn’t let you leave, “Maybe...”

“Hm, don’t start picking fights with me for no reason though. My poor heart won’t be able to bear it,” he cooed as he kissed your cheeks, wet from your tears. “You look beautiful when you cry, love, but I only want you crying when I’m fucking you, you understand?”

“Yes...”

He pushed inside you, you were tighter than usual, it was difficult to even properly enter you. The pain of it of course made you cry again. You sobbed into the crook of his neck as he shushed you.

“You feel my love, darling,” he asked as he was buried to the hilt inside you, “I’ll give you a child soon enough. Then you’ll have a living breathing proof of it,” he whispered in your ear as he started steadily moving, making sure that he won’t hurt you.

“I wish... I was your one and only... like you are mine,” you sniffled as you held on to him, soon it is wasn’t hurting as much, it was a little uncomfortable but you could bear through it.

“You are my one and only. You’re the only woman I have ever loved. Do you love me, petal?”

He looked down at you, wanting you to say it. He needed you to love him, for you to say it to him, he needed to know you weren’t here just because you were scared of him.

“I love you, Steve,” you sniffled, rubbing your runny nose with the back of your hand.

He smiled at you, his hand trailing down both your bodies as he twisted your pearl between his fingers.

“It’s okay... it’s okay...” He kept telling you as you screamed at the top of your lungs, your climax making your mind and your vision fuzzy.

“I’m going to fill you up, petal,” he told you as he finished inside you, staying inside you for a long while after he was done just to make sure you knew how he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him.

#sweetlysad1kchallenge #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers

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waiting-for-what-again · 2 years ago

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My Own Worst Enemy

Atsumu x reader; College au

TW: Mentions of alcohol, angst, breakup

A/N: Idk why but whenever I hear the song “My Own Worst Enemy” by Lit I think of this man so I thought it best to try and write it out. Hope you enjoy!

11:39am

It was supposed to be a fun night out. He wanted to show you a good time, what a real party should be like. He can’t count the number he’s gotten around to, nor the number he’s thrown, nor the number of hangovers he’s had, but one thing’s for certain, he never fucked up this badly in his life. A pounding in his head blurred his vision in the early rays of sun peaking through the blinds. The bed was… above him? No, he was on the floor. With his clothes on. That’s one positive – right? Maybe. A groan escaped him as he slowly rose to a sit, his mind swimming in a desperate attempt to piece together the previous night. A stream of cool air ruffled his hair and hit his face. I did not come through the window last night. The window squeaked as it was slammed shut.

Slowly, he managed to trudge to the bathroom. It might just be the pounding in his head and the intense temptation to vomit, but something was off. Splashing cool water on his face in an attempt for clarity, it hit him. Your facewash you always left here wasn’t on the counter. Your teal toothbrush was missing. You can’t be gone after one bad night, can you?

Shit, shit, shit

Atsumu whispered to himself. His hands patted himself down for his phone. He needed to call someone, anyone who was at that party. He went back to the bathroom – he might actually throw up now.

Suna was probably there. There’s no way he wasn’t and if one person recorded anything last night, it was Suna. First he needed his phone. Probably left it in the car. At least he didn’t have to walk very far to search his vehicle since it happened to be right outside his door. On the lawn. In front of his apartment complex. A groan left him as his hand dragged down his face. To his much needed luck, the phone was indeed in the car and still had a little juice left in the battery.

83 notifications.

That can’t be good…

“I can’t believe you said that to her!!”

“Atsumu you fucking pig.”

“What did you do man…”

He couldn’t bring himself to read the rest, except when he saw a video from Suna accompanied by the words “Bro you really fucked up this time”. He didn’t know if he was prepared to watch it. He couldn’t bear to think of what he could have possibly said to you. You were everything to him. You brought him so much peace, so many laughs, so much comfort. He never met anyone he was so sure he wanted by his side as he ventured through the rest of college, the rest of his career, the rest of his life. But now he wasn’t so sure. You were gone. Quite possibly for good.

The video quality was poor along with its audio. He could make out some yelling from both of you. Then he remembered. Not everything, but pieces. You were hanging around that Meian guy. A little too close for being “just friends”. He tried to kiss you. Yes that’s what it was. You got upset and came to him, but he, he was drunk off his ass to say the least and he…

He blamed you.

And called you shallow.

And nothing but good looks.

And wanting to ride his coattails of inevitable success.

On the video he made out you throwing something at him. Maybe a bottle? Who knows.

Why, how? He didn’t mean any of that. Hell, he never even thought any of that. So where did it come from? He knew those words cut deep, things you yourself admitted to being insecure of others thinking when they saw the two of you as a couple. Oh but you were so much more. You were so smart and good at what you wanted to do. You were one of the top students in your manger and were destined for success especially after that internship you won over the summer. Not only were you that, but you were funny, you could keep up with his sense of humor and managed to keep him on his toes. You kept him in line and he kept you adventurous. You stayed friends your freshman year of school, but half way through the next, you both slowly came to terms with your feelings and got together. Now in the winter of you senior year, he was on the verge of losing you – if he hadn’t already.

He didn’t know what to do. He sunk to the floor and next thing he knew hot tears rolled down his cheeks and he began to sob.

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2:09am

You left the party alone despite your friend’s insisting to follow you. You needed space. The walk to your apartment would hopefully assist in clearing your mind as well. About half-way back, the goosebumps began to appear. You didn’t bring a jacket because you didn’t think you needed one. If anything you would just borrow… his. You were about to pass his apartment actually. You always left a change of clothes there and usually a jacket. You had a key on you so might as well take advantage.

The familiar scent of the apartment hit you as soon as the door opened. He wouldn’t be back for at least another hour or two if he even managed to leave that is. You went to his closet and picked up the small neatly folded stack of clothes. That was all you really needed. But you knew you wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. Might as well grab the other couple things you left there too. That would be sure to send a message to Miya. You wondered if he would even remember what he said. He was the lightest weight you had ever met, which definitely did not suit him.

After collecting your toothbrush, facewash, clothes, and the few other necessities you kept there, you took a seat on the edge of his bed. All of your memories there waltz through your mind. The late night talks, long days studying, exciting nights filled with, well you know what. The past few years spent with Atsumu would certainly not be described as easy, but they were worth it. You dealt with his flaws as you dealt with his as all couples do. This time he just took it a bit too far.

He hit the major insecurities you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of all together. You came to him for protection, but instead, you ended up wanting protection from him. From his words. He always had your back and was always there. You trusted him and he trusted you. So where did this come from? Was he thinking those things this whole time? Were you really so pathetic to… No, you needed to stop and leave. You couldn’t do this right now. Going home to your own bed never sounded so good.

You almost called him the next morning. Then the next day. Then the day after. You wanted to know why he said what he said if anything. You never saw him act so out of character. You had to know. You wanted to go back to the happy relationship you had not even four days ago. You weren’t sure where things would go from here now though. It might be a sign that things aren’t always as they seem.

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#atsumu x reader #college au #atsumu miya #atsumu angst #First writing post so hopefully it went okay

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subwaysurf45 · 4 years ago

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Code Star

Summary: a code word you and Bucky share is used; but it’s not in a good way.

Warning: panic attack, ripping out hair, addiction(little bit)

Words: 2030

Masterlist!

"Agent. Agent. Copy agent?" Friday spoke through the speakers in your room, it was louder than normal and also in the middle of the night which was the reason you woke up with a gasp.

"C-copy," you spat out, you typically sleep with your mouth open, so it gets dry when you first wake.

"Mr. Barns is calling you, he says it's 'code star'." Your stomach dropped, from all the adrenaline from waking up with a scare and the code, you sprinted down the hall way.

It was late and you were in the kitchen, you were trying to separate from your sleeping pills because during your last mission you couldn't sleep because you forgot them, you were addicted to them. So you needed to take a step back, learn to fall asleep on your own.

After asking around there was a tea Wanda recommended, it was lavender tea and she said it's the best with honey. You were currently steeping your bag and had honey beside you.

You took the soggy bag out and turned to the compost bin, after dropping it in and turned around you almost slipped because Bucky was right there.

Standing frozen. Dead face. Staring at you.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You yelled, not caring if it woke someone up, "what's wrong with you?" You realized you clutched at your heart through your sweater.

He was on the other side of the island, but he seemed to be leaning over a bit, he looked down at your steaming mug and then back at you.

"I- I was going to say hi and then I liked the smell of your tea and then when you turned I looked up at you, I-I didn't mean to freak you out, that must have been really scary, sorry." He looked down into the cup again. "What is it?" He finally asked.

You let your guard down a bit, "lavender," you never looked away from him, "and honey." That was the most he'd ever said to you since he showed up two months ago, he stayed in his room the first month.

"Nice," he nodded, his metal arm coming up and rubbing the back of his neck.

"There's extra water, I can make you one." You knew he was going to ask for your cup, but you really need to hit the sack.

His face lit up in the dark, "perfect!" He half smiled.

You poured the other cup and steeped the another bag, then added honey as well. You both stayed where you were on either side of the island.

"Why are you up?" He asked while blowing on the tea, his voice was below normal level.

"Just can't sleep," you sigh and look over to the common room, no one was there but you really didn't want to meet his eyes.

"I get that," he spoke awkwardly and looked over as well, thinking you were studying something.

"I'm-...I'm trying to get if sleeping pills my shit therapist prescribed for me," you looked back at him, his eye brows raised and his head tilted forty-five degrees.

"Sleeping pills?"

"Insomnia."

"Oh..." he spoke to himself and looked down again, his thumb rubbing the smooth ceramic handle of the blue mug that wasn't his. "I get nightmares." He stated blankly, but he didn't look up at his statement.

"Is it..." you tried to find the right words to not trigger him, "before the war, like America...or later on…in life...?" You danced around the question, Steve had told you mentioning certain things can get Bucky really freaked out.

"My mind," he laughed sarcastically, "it likes to mix the two," he pulled one side of his mouth tight.

"Double-whammy," you whispered, then froze at the sound of a giggle, Bucky chuckled. "What?"

"No-I-I just...I get that reference," he seemed proud, his face seemed to fall quickly though, circling back, "my arm is weird, it's like my human arm but the star," he points to the red, "is like sewn in, I don't know what it means but..." he trialed off.

"Well, if you need help, just call a code star, I'll come to your room and bring you some tea, how about that?" You smile.

"What? Like a friend?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Okay," he smiled and nodded, "alright," his fingers drummed on the counter, "I'm gonna take this back to my room, but I'll remember that." He nodded and left, but caught himself at the corner to the rooms, "hey, agent," he spoke normal, you looked, "if you're gonna be my friend, don't ask 'what's wrong with me?', because trust me...I’ll talk you to your grave." He smirked.

“Noted, Sargent.” You’ve never seen him joke with you before, it felt comforting.

'Code star' had never been used for its newer purpose before, as the friendship and relationship grew 'code star' became 'code lavender', it happened after Bucky called 'code star' once while he was having a panic attack, you took so long to make the tea he was passed out by the time you showed up.

'Code lavender': make a tea, meet in the kitchen.

'Code star': panic attack, drop everything a come.

You sprinted down the hallway to the very last room, you could hear laboured breathing as you got closer. Typically you'd knock softly and come in quietly, not this time.

You whipped open the door to see Bucky staring slightly down on the edge of his bed, he was rocking back and forth as his fingers ripped and pulled on his long hair. His pupils blew wide and his lips curled causing his teeth to flash, he didn't even look up at you.

A loud bang from your knees hitting the hardwood didn't phase him either, you tired to duck down to meet his line of eye sight but you couldn't get down enough.

"Bucky, look at me!" You pulled his hands out of his hair, as you made him drop them to his side you found a pile of hair outside his thighs, "oh god," you whispered, your hand unlacing with his to pick up the locks, the free hand of his went straight back to tugging. "Don't do that, don't do that." You hushed and took it out again, a tuff came with it. "Bucky, look at me," you said calmer now, you needed to be the example. "Bucky, nod if you can hear me."

He didn't nod, his eyes stayed locked on your chest. They didn't move there, he was already looking there, it was like he was looking through you.

You kept his hands clumped in your right hand and your left hand began to trace around his face, starting at his cheeks that were dry, little circles led to cross the bridge the nose a couple times. You also started humming, a song you heard Bucky and Steve sing once while drunk and having fun.

His eye brows seemed to raise for a second at the tune, but he quickly fell back into his short shallow breathes. You kept going, your finger gently tracing his cleft chin, it was always something you pinched when joking around with him.

"Wake up, Bucky," you whispered after finishing the song, you started the tune again. His breathing seemed to slow a little and his almost black eyes moved around a bit, "there you go," you cupped his cheek, now just shifting your thumb back and forth. You didn't know if he'd start to pull his hair out again so you kept both the metal and flesh hand covered with your left.

His breathing went to normal, his rib cage expanding wide as he took voluntary breathes. His eyes were shut tight but you felt him lean into your hand that was still holding his cheek.

"Are you with me?" You asked softly, he leaned into your hand again, his hand slowly made it up to his face and he placed his hand over yours, gently guiding it down to his lips; his kisses to your palm were long and filled with their own language.

"I'm here," his voice cut out and became a breath, but you heard him. His eyes looked up before his head moved, he locked eyes with you and something changed.

It was like he was seeing you for the first time, eyes a little wide and confused; but knowing at the same time. They became misty the more he looked, he was never one to cry so he dropped his head to cover the tears.

"It's okay," you hushed, he dropped your hand and leaned forward, basically throwing his entire body weight onto you. You fell back to the floor and he cried in your chest, you saw some of his hair fall with him. "Let it out," your arms wrapped around him and began to rub all along his back, huge, gentle, soothing rubs.

"I-I killed you all," his voice sounded like a dog panting from his short breathes that came when he talked, "I- couldn't s-stop," his 's' slithered like snakes as he tries get sufficient air and talk.

"We're all here, just a dream." It was the same mantra, "we're all here, you're safe, it was a nightmare, you're out of it now. There you go, big breathes, you're doing great, you're a pro at this, keep breathing." You let the broken record play, he seemed to get smaller at every praise.

He sat up and leaned against the bed, Bucky pulled his sleeve around his fist to hold it tight. When he wiped his face it was aggressive, like he was mad at himself. He just stared at you like he always did, you were alway involved in his dreams so he needed to look at you to stay grounded.

"Sorry," his 's' still slurred, "I-...I'm sorry," he wanted to say something else, you could hear it in his tone. His head dropped, Bucky almost fell over at the sight of his hair, "did I do that?" He asked, his nose turned up.

All you did was nod, any verbal answer would've sounded almost grossed out or accusatory. He sighed and looked between the hair and you, he wanted to say something, he'd already stopped himself once.

"Tell me," you whispered.

"I want to cut my hair," Bucky responded softly, "I-I also want to sleep on the floor from now own." He seemed ashamed of the second ask.

"You like the cold?" You tried to figure him out.

"That and it's...comforting...I think," Bucky scratched his head, his metal hand slowing at the thin spot from tugging, "it just grounds me, I'm not used to fluffy things- nicer things."

"How about a mattress pad, you're back will scream at you in the morning." You tried to lighten the mood, he smiled a bit and then nodded. "How about you come sleep in my room tonight, just so I can keep an eye on you and if you want to sleep on my firm mattress you can hop on, how's that?" You stood and held your hand out, Bucky nodded and clapped his metal hand to yours.

You led him down the hallway and to your room, it was really quiet and almost off putting. You slept barefoot so the sound of soft footsteps from your feet was the only thing you heard, Bucky wore socks.

He went straight to your bed and felt the mattress, both hands pressing down on it to see the give it has. You felt a little happy when he was nodding in a positive way; his bottom lip also pouted out.

Bucky slipped in and you joined as well, he stayed still for a while, on his back and staring at the ceiling.

"Y'know, you can cuddle," you whispered, without another second to blink Bucky's face rested on your chest, his arm circled your body completely in a tight hug. Your hands found their way to his back and to his hair, softly lulling him to sleep, "I'll cut your hair in the morning."

"Love you," he murmured.

#bucky barns fluff #bucky oneshot #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #fatws bucky #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky barns

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magickfromscratch · 2 years ago

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Let's start with issues of consent, re: the gods asking to help.

If an unconscious person washes up in your ER, you help them.

If, however, someone has a "Do Not Resuscitate" tag, health care providers do not have the right to revive them, and if they do, they can be held liable and sued. And a doctor may want to scream, "PLEASE LET ME HELP." But that doesn't change what the patient's rights are.

I think the nature of equality and freedom are often grievously misunderstood. I can be smarter than someone, stronger than someone, healthier than someone, better educated than someone, and that cannot and does not make me their superior, or they my inferior. It must be assumed, for me and any other fully conscious individual, that we know what we want for ourselves, and in this capacity, we are equal. To suggest that access to better information and greater wisdom gives a being the right to non-consensually intervene is a slippery slope.

No one ever has full information about anything, ever. "Relatively informed" or "adequately informed" is a given. That's why BDSM invented safewords. That's why consent needs to always be fully revokeable. Because even discussing a scene six ways from Sunday, you can't always know how things will feel in the moment.

Let's talk about immediate threat of physical harm. I wouldn't just pull either of my children away from oncoming traffic; I'd push or pull anyone in immediate danger of being hit by a car if they appeared unaware of the threat. That's possible imminent death that they did not plan for that particular Thursday.

The VAST majority of all other cases we could think up involve "spiritual well being."

If you are working on becoming a person who does less harm to your neighbors, and you are nice to your friends and family, if you are, through some arrangement, adequately housed, fed, watered, cleaned, and up to date on your medical needs, you are doing GREAT. There is no equivalent of on-coming traffic.

Might you die soon, through disease or accident? Sure, but that's everyone. Kids get cancer. Babies die. People have strokes. It's tragic, it doesn't make sense, and we should not TRY to make it make sense, because most of those avenues are just ways to reduce the empathy we feel for those who suffer, and a lot of them lead to the New-Age to Alt-Right pipeline. We can't let natural deaths, even senseless ones, become opportunities for supremacy culture to get its foot in the door. In this country in particular, we need to be vigilant against it.

RE: how to structure a religion so that it doesn't all boil down to who can accurately hear the gods? I have only half an answer, because we're all standing waist deep in authoritarian sewage, reasoning through the haze of our collective trauma.

But imagine a world where it never occurred to you that anyone should ever have control or power over anyone else. Imagine you were never introduced to that idea. You gathered with people because you like people, and it's cool when you have people to share resources with. You like sharing. It's fun to give people cookies you made, or sing a song for them. Some people are good at certain things, and others excel elsewhere, and that's GREAT because it diversifies your resources. There are non-physical people, too. They have powers you don't. But also, you have powers they don't. Imagine that, in the same way that you don't see the awesome, super-diligent cleaner who can't read anymore after a head-injury last season "inferior," or feel any need to measure him against yourself, it doesn't occur to you to measure yourself against these non-physical community members, either. You just know that, like Bina is great at writing poetry, these people can do the occasional miracle, and those who commune with them get better at stuff, or get great advice.

Different people relate to them in different ways. Stonn here has bones he rolls, Xor uses a pendulum, Tina uses automatic writing, John relies exclusively on omens, but everyone recognizes that certain feeling of suddenly being ON, being inspired, being suddenly blessed with an insight. So when you pray to a god, you all sit in a circle, and when you feel called to, you share an idea you have. And people discuss the merit of the idea, not the merit of the person who had it.

That's how Quakers do it.

As a training tool, you might need to initially give people participation tokens to spend, as people are learning to share the air.

I think a paradigm of, "what does our community need, and how can we think and work together to meet those needs" is healthier than one where we occupy ourselves with questions of who is worthy of wearing the big hat. At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter where an idea comes from, as long as everyone agrees that it solves the problem in question.

Moreover, and only slightly relatedly, even if you have leaders, psychic mediumship is the worst possible criteria for leadership. It would be like if we chose our leaders based on visual or auditory acuity. To add to that, I am not certain I've met anyone who is fully satisfied with the mediumship of other people. You can say it's jealousy, or whatever, but I prefer to think that a person's inner light is trying to speak, and we too often encourage them to listen externally. In that we know what we want for ourselves, all fully conscious beings are equal.

I think we need to ask the question, "what role do we want the gods serve in a our community, and how much of that actually has to do with establishing systems of controlling other people?"

And think really carefully about the answers you hear from within or without. And maybe slowly walk away from anyone going on about the gods solving disputes over differences of belief and/or practice. Because they're trying to use the gods as a tool to prove themselves right and that's sketch as hell.

Seen some people floating the idea that “the gods” (all deities? Maybe just Greek Deities?) don’t require our consent because they have big important stuff to do that we couldn’t possibly understand and they might need to do things to us or through us because of their job.

To break that down:

1. They have important things to do

And

2. They cannot do it without us

Therefore

3. They do not need to maintain good will with us. Trashing our households and violating our consent is a smart thing to do.

I’m going to start here: the gods can do whatever they like and no one can stop them. But that doesn’t mean that they’re going to do things that run contrary to their aims. Their actions still have natural consequences.

I am dead sure these people had authoritarian parents and believe that, without someone to punish us, we’d all go completely nuts. Maybe they’ve been on such a tight leash their entire lives that they haven’t gotten as far as imagining the consequences of being All Powerful and also a dickhead.

Consider college students who have never previously been left without adult supervision, and who, given that taste of freedom, immediately proceed to get alcohol poisoning, flunk out of school, or any number of other idiotic things. They go utterly wild like that because the only reason anyone ever gave them was “or else.” And now that there is no one with a stick threatening them, they must encounter, for the very first time, the idea that bad things happen when you make stupid decisions, even if no external being is there to punish you.

If deities need humans for their plans (which the Big Important Thing theory states that they do) then they shouldn’t mistreat them. Theologians come up with notions of why deities can or do behave badly. Theologians try to come up with complex explanations. Normal people wander off and convert to another religion. In the past, maybe clergy could solve this by working with the local government and instituting laws forcing people to follow that religion. But did this, historically, solve the problem? No. And we have the ruins to prove it.

If you try to modify a child’s behavior through violence, the child will escalate, becoming increasingly rebellious. Eventually, they’ll move out, and bit by bit, you’ll lose contact with them, BECAUSE YOU ABUSED THEM. Adults are not different.

Christianity is declining. Even now, the word, “sinful” has positive connotations for most people, and the word “heretic” is something people proudly apply to themselves. Years of portraying the deity as a malignant narcissist have taken their toll. Hell has taken its toll.

Being perceived as cruel has negative consequences for the deity’s cultus. And that’s fine, so long as you don’t need humans for anything.

But if you need humans, how they see you, and how they feel about you, matters.

So in reality, either

A. You need humans and should maintain a good relationship with them through open lines of communication and building good will or

B. You don’t need humans, and have no real excuse for mistreating them.

Why do people experience deities in that way?

Deities, I think, are sublime in nature, and they get translated to us through our own symbolic language. If the recipient of the message has a maladaptive understanding of power, that will taint how they hear the deity.

In conclusion: people need therapy before they need mystical training. Yikes.

#saving us is not a one person job #gods #goddesses #magic #magick #spirituality #polytheism

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azaleavi · 4 years ago

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Baby, show me what it's like - Y.B.

Summary: Dancing with a stranger at a party doesn’t seem like a bad idea. That is until it turns out she is the leader of a motorcycle club.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, kissing, dancing with a stranger

Author’s note: I don’t really have anything to say lol please let me know what you think about this!

Feedback is always appreciated and don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

The music blasting in the small space shook your whole body as you walked through the crowd following your friends. They dragged you out to party because - in their words - you needed to find someone to take the stress out of your body. College has been hard on you in the last couple of weeks as you had exams after assignments. You were stressed at the time, but since everything has been done you felt fine.

But now you are here at a club that is overstuffed with people. You reach the bar where your friends are already waiting for you. They already ordered way too many shots for you and you feel your stomach turn at the thought of all the alcohol they will make you drink. You want to have fun so you grab the shot glass closest to you and drown it in one shot. They all cheer at your action so you raise the now empty glass to the air before slamming it down the countertop. Another full glass is shoved into your hands and you drink it without hesitation. The alcohol burns as it travels through your body, making you shiver and grimace. You are so going to regret this.

After a few minutes of drinking, they grab your hands and lead you to the dance floor. You roll your eyes as they find a space big enough for you all to fit. You feel the beat course through your body making your hips move. The music and the alcohol combined allow you to let loose. You raise your hands to the air above your head as you sway your hips to the beat.

A few songs come and go and you feel yourself get progressively more carefree and you feel a pair of eyes on your body. If you were sober you might find it creepy but right now you just love the attention. You circle your hips harder and more seductively, hoping that the person staring at you takes his chance. You drag your hands down your body as you lean your head back, baring your neck. Slowly spinning around you show them your full body from every angle, your heart beating rapidly. You have never done this before, but you find it exhilarating.

Biting your lip you close your eyes just as a pair of arms wrap around your waist. A smirk makes its way into your lips as you feel the stranger’s body flush against you. Your eyes are still closed and you don’t want to open them. You want to live in this moment without worrying about who is behind you. The hands splay on your stomach as you lean your head back onto his shoulder. The person behind you is around the same height as you, maybe a little taller. Perfect.

One of the hands leaves your front and it sweeps your hair away from your neck that is closer to his face. Your heart beats at the same time as a soft kiss is left on the skin of your neck. The other hand leads your hips along with his, your mouth opening in a silent moan. The kisses keep being placed on your neck and you turn your head to give him more space. They turn open-mouthed and it makes you grab his hands that are on your stomach. His lips travel up to under your ear and he nips at the skin there. Your hands squeeze his and you hear a low chuckle in your ear, his breath hitting the shell of your ear, making you shiver. You push out your behind to his front which makes his hands squeeze your hips. Two fingers tap on your jaw on the other side of your head and they push you to turn your head towards the person's face whom you still haven't seen.

Your eyes stay closed as you feel him lean over to your lips, but before they can press onto yours, you open your eyes. Your whole body freezes as you realize who is in front of you. A woman. You push her away frantically as you stumble backward, colliding with other people who are unaware of what's happening. You mumble out a sorry which you are sure they don't hear, but you don't care. You almost kissed a woman. And not just any woman. The stranger in front of you is Yelena Belova. The Yelena Belova. Everyone in the city knows her and avoids her as much as they can. She is the leader of the Widow Club. One of the most dangerous people in the area. They all carry guns around, ride motorcycles and wear as much leather as they can. Like she is doing now, as she has a black leather jacket on with leather pants and a simple white t-shirt. It's hot. No, you can't think like that. She is dangerous. And she is looking right at you now.

You gulp as she keeps staring with her eyebrows raised expectantly. She takes a step closer to you and you try to stand your ground on shaky legs. She raises her hand and your eyes warily follow all her movements. The music is still blasting around you, but your ears are ringing as she sweeps your hair out of your face. Your mouth opens slightly and her eyes move down to it from your eyes. You close it quickly when you notice where her attention has shifted.

"What's wrong darling?" her accent surprises you and your body doesn't move as she steps even closer. Her face is a few inches from yours and you can't think of anything else but how gorgeous she is "Hmm?" she makes you feel small even though she is only a few inches taller than you.

"I don't- I can't- I'm not-" you stumble over your words making her smile at your cuteness. You are adorable.

"What is it?" she tilts her head to the side. You know she is talking to you like a baby, but somehow you find yourself liking it.

"I like men" the words fall out of your lips messily and your eyes widen at your own confession. Will she be mad?

"Are you sure?" she squints at you, not quite believing your words. Maybe you don't know yet "Because it seemed to me that you enjoyed yourself a few seconds prior" her smile is kind, but you are having a hard time believing she is being sincere.

"I thought you were a man" you avert your eyes and instead look at the people around you.

"Okay" she swiftly steps back with her hands up in surrender. You look at her in confusion "I don't know how badly you think of me" she begins and you look down on the ground in shame "but I won't push you to do anything" she gives you a small smile and then she is out of your sight, the crowd swallowing her. She is gone just like that. You stand there in shock as you try to process what happened. You spoke to one of the most feared people in the city. What is more, you danced with her and almost kissed her. And it was hot. Wait, no. It wasn't. It's just the alcohol in your system that makes you think like this.

You shake your head to clear your head, but it doesn't help much. Looking around you find your friends a few feet away from you, clearly not knowing what just happened. You walk over to them and tell them that you don't feel too good and you want to go home. You say your goodbyes and leave the place to flag down a taxi to finally go home and spend a sleepless night tossing and turning in your bed with a certain woman on your mind.

A whole week passes by and you still haven't forgotten about your almost kiss with Yelena. It's been on your mind every day since it happened and you found yourself fantasizing about what would have happened if you didn't stop. It's been annoying you the whole time, but you refused to dwell on it for too long. Until now.

You can't think of anyone else but her, even when a man is right in front of you. You can't kiss anyone without her face being the one that pops up in your mind. You don't understand what she did to you, but something is not right and you know how you can make it go away. You just have to kiss her and you are good. You don't know what it would be like and that's why you can't think about it. That has to be it. It's the only explanation.

Thus you decided to go to the place normal people wouldn't think of going. The Widow Club's place.

As you reach the old building your stomach contracts, your heart beating rapidly. Sweat coats your palms as you walk through the gate and into the yard that stretches in front of the building. Every head turns to you which makes you stop in your tracks, your fake confidence faltering.

"What do you want?" one of the women shouts at you which makes you slightly vince. They all laugh at your reaction.

"I'm looking for Yelena Belova" you speak back loud enough for them to hear. The woman who spoke to you raises her eyebrows and stands up from where she was sitting fixing her bike. She opens her mouth to speak but a door to her right opens and out walks the woman you are looking for. You unconsciously straighten your spine as she looks you up and down and you see recognition in her eyes. She remembers you.

"Come in" she looks into your eyes and you quickly walk toward her. She lets you walk through the open door first and you find yourself in a small office. Shelves line the wall to your right and a table with two chairs on either side of it is in the middle of the room.

Turning around you find Yelena flipping someone off outside the room before turning to you and closing the door behind her.

"So what do you want?" she sits down on her chair and motions for you to do the same across the table. You follow her and sit down. You inhale deeply and the air leaves your lungs in a long sigh.

"What did you do to me?" you look into her striking eyes and you almost lose yourself in it.

"What?" she leans forward to rest her elbows on the table.

"What did you do to me?" you repeat yourself a little slower.

"No I understood what you said, I just don't know what you mean" she shakes her head with a small smile on her lips. The lips you couldn't stop thinking about the past week. You clear your throat and look away from her face.

"Why can't I stop thinking about you and our almost kiss?" you steel yourself as you let the words fall from your lips. Maybe she has the answer to the question that has been burning you. She stares at you for a few seconds without moving at all and you start to feel uncomfortable.

"Are you serious?" she bursts out laughing out of nowhere. She falls back into her chair and now it's your turn to stare at her. Her laugh. Oh god her laugh is the most wonderful sound you have ever heard. When she quiets down a little she stands up and walks around the table to your side. You lean back as she places her hands on either side of you on the chair. Your gulp is visible to her and she tilts her head to the side in wonder.

"Are you scared of me?" she looks into your wide eyes, her voice is soft.

"No" your answer is quick and it comes out without thinking. Without knowing you ease her worries with just that one word.

"Does your heart beat faster when I'm this close?" she leans in closer and you suck in a breath which answers enough for her "You said you keep thinking about me" she grabs your arms to pull you up into a standing position "Well, I keep thinking about you too" she guides you to lean your back against the table and you let her move you however she wants. Her words leave you speechless, your heart drumming against your ribs in anticipation. She places her hands on either side of you on the table, caging you in.

"What do you want me to do about it?" her face comes closer to yours, her eyes not leaving your lips, and all of your resolves disappear.

"Kiss me" these two words are all she needs before her lips crash into yours. Your arms wrap around her neck to pull her closer as her tongue swipes across your bottom lip and your mouth opens to give her access. She explores your mouth making both of you moan into the fervent kiss. You know she is experienced from the way she moves her lips against yours and it only makes you even more frustrated in the best way.

She pulls away from you after a few seconds, eliciting a groan from you. Your eyes stay closed as you relish the feeling of being kissed by her for the first time. She places her thumb on your lips which makes you open your eyes. Her orbs are full of emotions you can't quite grasp yet, but you want to learn all of them. You lean toward her, but stop before you could kiss her again. Your mind is a mess and you can only think about her and her soft lips right now.

"Again?" the cheeky smile on her face leaves you breathless and you can only nod in response. She lets out a small chuckle before pressing her lips to yours again. Your noses bump against each other as her hands grasp your waist. Your fingers tangle in her blonde hair as she shifts her body flush against yours. Her hands find the back of your thighs to help you sit up onto the desk, knocking over everything in your way. Pencils fall on the ground along with their holder amidst loud clangs, but neither of you cares. She stands between your open legs, her lips not leaving yours for a second. You feel her palms brush the skin of your thighs and your mind goes into a frenzy.

A knock sounds from the door and you immediately pull away from her startled by the sudden interruption. Leaning her forehead against your shoulder she groans which makes you giggle. Pressing one last kiss on your lips she walks to the door and opens it.

"This better be important" her voice is authoritative and you are glad she doesn't see you as you bite your lip and clench your thighs together. God, she is so hot.

"Sorry boss we just heard some loud noises and we wanted to check on you to see if you were okay" you can hear the voice of the woman who spoke to you before, now it's laced with a smile as if she can barely hold back from bursting out laughing. They must be close.

"Fuck off" Yelena scoffs at her and she finally lets out the laugh she has been holding back. She slams the door in the woman's face and she turns back to you while shaking her head with a smile on her face. You lean back onto your hands on the table and tilt your head to the side as you watch her mumble under her breath. You catch a few idiots and I should be more strict which makes you smile. Is this the big, feared leader of the Widow Club? People don't know the real her it seems.

Her eyes find yours and she just looks at you for a few seconds. She has stunning eyes. In a few long strides, she is in front of you again, her hands on your legs.

"So how was that pretty girl?" her nose brushes yours which makes a small whine escape the confines of your lips. You avert your eyes bashfully after the sound you make. You seem way too needy.

"Did you like it?" her thumb brushes your cheek and your heartbeat speeds up at the tender touch "Did it answer your question?"

"Yes" the word comes out breathy "to both of them" your answer makes her chuckle.

"And what is the answer?" she pushes you.

"I want more" you confess while closing your eyes. You are too scared to see her reaction and it seems too real now that you said it out loud. You've never thought of any woman like this before.

"More of what?" her thumb keeps stroking your cheek making it hard to think straight.

"You" you keep your eyes closed because you know you would get lost in her orbs if you freed yours.

"Me?" the surprise in her voice is unmistakable and it makes you open your eyes.

"Yes, you" you nod confidently "I want to get to know you" you decide to tell her how you feel, and the smile that lights up her face is worth embarrassing yourself. She slams her lips onto yours making you grab her arm so you don't fall backward. Her kiss is hurried as she pours all her emotions into it and you feel like the whole room is spinning around you.

Pulling away the adorable smile makes its way back to her face and you feel your insides turn into mush at how endearing she is.

"I can't wait to get to know you" you laugh as she holds out her hand for you to shake.

"Yelena Belova" she introduces herself and you tell her your name in return.

"I think we will have a lot of fun together" her smile turns cheeky and you feel your face heat up at the implication of her words.

You can't wait to learn everything about the person most people know by reputation and you are glad you get the opportunity to be close to her. Who needs men when you have a woman like this next to you?

#yelena belova #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x fem reader #yelena belova x female reader #yelena belova drabble #yelena belova one shot #yelena belova fic #yelena belova reader insert

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pupiiaye · 4 years ago

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Reminiscence of Violence //. A yandere Diluc x GN reader.

They were a virus, a disease that needed curing, a simple tune that needed listening. They were a pill, an addiction if you will. He had to have it, he craved it more than the bloodlust that trickled through his veins and caused up a storm. What exactly was this feeling? Why did he feel it? Why was it more intense than the deaths and bloodshed he's seen a thousand times over? And why… why did he want it so badly? Why did he want to rip it from its core and feast upon it like a starving man? Tonight, he will have his answer.

Fair warnings: knife play, character death / threat implied, possessiveness, spankings, dirty talk, a rather dark Diluc, markings.

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The stars in the sky glistened above them, whispering secrets told from different lands, different stories. The clear wind danced through trees, kissed against skin, leaving their invisible mark against the bare flesh. It was not odd to be seen wandering around the grassy plains of Mondstadt, travelers and knights had duties to attend to, commissions to complete and bounties to conquer. Moonlight blessed those who decided to wander without any real reason, the wanderer in question being a simple soul. One who had found themselves living amongst the city of freedom for quite some time. Not a knight, but a fair citizen who took the pleasure in helping others. They didn't consider themselves to be a savior, nor did they consider themselves to be someone without any purpose. This was the main reason as to why they've managed to catch the eye of /the/ the richest man in Mondstadt.

It goes without saying that this was rather impressive, everyone can see the clear hook they had on him. The addiction they provided without even doing as much as lifting a finger. Their eyes screamed of excitement, and in return the ex knight's heart would scream with desire. Diluc, quiet noble man who had his morals, his regrets, and his fancies. Diluc, the man who didn't take pleasure in affairs or hit offs, the man who cared not of looks but of trust and genuine emotions.

This drove a man crazy, off the walls even. It was not of hate, but confusion as to why or how one person could pull the heaviest of beats out of his once dying heart. Frowns that once covered his features turned into ones of admiring grins, turned into little smirks whenever they would ramble and rant about their passions. Beauty, they were littered with it, from the very gleam of irises to the movement of plush lips. Archon's, he wanted to taste them, wanted to nibble and bite into those moving pillows they called lips. He wanted to make them bleed and bruise after getting done with kissing them, and would he stop there? Absolutely not.

His daydreams were becoming worse, and the only thing that could snap him out of them were the blissful sounds of laughter. The symphony of little chuckles mixed in with a breathy hiccup of air. Oh, he knew this sound like he knew the scriptures of poetry, this sound was one he got drunk on. Instead of wine, he could listen to his baby's sweet giggles until death slayed him where he stood.

The reason as to why it was happening, however, was enough to make a man see red. How dare he? How dare that betraying drunk prick, the simple audacity of this … Fool. Was he asking for another death wish, perhaps? Did he wish to watch the flames of hell rise once more? Did he want Diluc to throw him out in the coldness of oceans and watch him choke and gasp and cling on to whatever breath of fucking air he could get? So many questions, not enough action. The solid glass in his hand could shatter from how tight he was gripping it, however Diluc was a man with pride, a man with patience and logic on his side. He would not yell, he would not allow his nerves to get the best of him. What he will do, is way worse than a simple “get the hell out” will do.

“Sir Kaeya, last time I checked, that was your fifth drink as of tonight. I suggest you wrap it up quickly before it gets too dark.”

The words were not of an option, but rather one of a demand. Those blazing embers Diluc called eyes were boring into a crystal one. He did not care where Kaeya went, how he got there, or where he will end up. All he knows is that he best make his decision quick before patience thinned out. The look he got in return did nothing to calm his raging pulses of blood either, he could kill this man given that chance again. This time, Diluc wouldn't forget it.

“My, what a rush… Pardon me, Master Diluc. I was not aware you had other things to tend to, throwing me out so soon. Or do you wish to have them to yourself, hm? Very well, I mustn't interrupt your … Desires. Just do not have too much fun whilst everyone are away, it would only make me jealous. Ain't that right, sweetheart?”

This chattering baboon talked too much, he was too touchy with what clearly belonged to Diluc. He did things too much, talked too smoothly, acted as if they had any interest in him when Diluc knew for a fact who the real winner was. As expected, Kaeya always thought certain things belonged to him, and for once in his life Diluc had the urge to be as competitive as his brother.

“Are you quite done? Hurry up and take your leave, or do I have to throw you out myself?”

Venom laced with every word, hands turning white from how hard he gripped onto the table. Mark his words, when he's done laying claim, this man was next on his overdue hit list. His thoughts were so loud that he didn't even hear his brother mocking him before the tavern doors closed with a squeak. So loud that he didn't even hear his soon-to-be — no, that's not right. They are his dearest, his love, his desires, and everything more. Right? Why would they look at him with such concern if not were true? Why would they touch his arm and smile so sweetly if not for him? Did they not come to him, and only him when scared, if not because they held dear feelings that he too reciprocated? They loved him, it was plain as can be. They adored him even, yet they were too shy to admit it to his face. Figures, Diluc knew this, he knew them more than the back of his hand. They just need a little help expressing It, right? Especially with the way they were chatting and laughing up a storm with his dearest, soon to be dead, brother.

Clouded eyes came back down to heaven, that heaven being the warm smile of his love. That's so much better, he didn't want to see that smile directed towards anyone else but him, it wasn't their fault. They didn't know that they belonged to Diluc yet, and that was okay. This is why he must teach a very simple lesson. One that will engrain itself in their memories until death.

“I find it funny…” eyes hands smooth over the wooden surface of the bar stand. He took in the smoothness, the patterns that followed along his fingers. “I find it hilarious even, how he thinks you belong to him when we both know that isn't true, right?”

What was that expression they wore? Confusion? Oh, how Diluc loved it when they played stupid, they were nothing of the sort. Perhaps they wanted to entice Diluc further, pull him in deeper, so he could ravish them against this here bar stand. Yeah, that's exactly what it was, Diluc could tell, he knew the signs all well. Being the observant man he was, he would not allow this one to wiggle free from his dangerous palms.

Slowly, gloves slowly began their journey off of slender fingers. Those red eyes burning into ones of a pretty little thing, just waiting to be taken. Their body screamed to be claimed and taken over by, but not just for anyone — no. He danced those same eyes up and down, taking their time to design the way they'll look, shivering and begging for more of him. He took his time imprinting the thought of them choking on air as he drew breaths and sweet words out of them. Bare hands reached for the blade tucked away in the waist band of his pants. Hands gliding over the wooden surface as long legs carried him out to where they sat. Confusion on their face turned into one of interest, and oh Diluc could not wait until that face of theirs turned into one of pleasure, pain, and agony. He wanted to make them beg, scream, chant his name like a god-damn song. It will happen, he's sure of it. They had nowhere to run, nowhere to escape. The only thing saving them from Diluc's hands was Diluc alone.

“Now, I hate to be the giver of bad news, but he doesn't own you. You do not beckon to his every call, and you certainly do not belong to him. Your thoughts, your words, your actions, even the way you move…”

A small sigh, eyes casting down on sweet thighs that were soon to be marked with the carvings of his name

“You know it all belongs to me, correct? When you lay in bed, and you drift your pretty head to sleep, you are aware you dream of me, yes? When you bat those eyes and look up … At me, you know I am the one who controls that seemingly empty head of yours, right?”

There's so much silence, but Diluc has enough patience to see the way their legs clench at every word, could hear the way their breathing thickens and stutters in the back of their throat. That's all he needed to see to know what he was saying was nothing far from true. Finally, hands are reaching forward, moving to caress and then cup at warm cheeks. Blushing, he can tell just from how abnormally hot they were. Their temperature is never this warm, he should know since he memorized their normal body heat.

“So you do know that. Then why is it, why my pretty flaming flower…”

Remember back when he thought he had patience? Apparently he had thought wrong of himself. He found his hands gripping tightly to their jaw, the free hand coming down to cup at smooth thighs. Oh, oh how they flinched so beautifully in his grasp, oh the hopeless look in their eye made his dick sing. They way they didn't resist, the way their thighs rubbed together. Their body was so damn honest, what was he to do? How could he not take them when they were basically asking for it?

"Why is it you let him touch you? Why did you allow him to touch and flirt with something that clearly belongs to me? Answer me, quickly."

He saw their mouth open to talk, and for a moment he had nothing but the thought of making them choke on his cock. Soon, not tonight, but soon enough.

"I'm sure he wasn't flirting, Diluc. You know Kaeya, he talks with charm, theres nothing I can do about that."

Wrong move.

A deep breath was taken before a hot hand reached up to grab at their arms, pulling them up just to twist them around and push them against the edges of his very own bar.

"Give me a good reason why I should not mark this body with my name at this moment."

He didn't give them time to answer, too busy trailing the edges of a blade down their clothed back. No matter, they do not need to talk all too much. Diluc only wanted to hear their cries and begs, nothing more nothing less. "Tell me that you desire me. I need to hear you speak your truth before I continue, I already know that you do so do not try to lie to me, dear flower."

His words spoke deep into their ear, tone clear and free from hesitation. And when their lips opened to plead for him, oh it made it all the much better. His pride hit the ceiling, he knew it. All those signs from before were so true, and now he was able to hear it for himself, soak in those desperate words of, "yes Diluc, please take me. Make me yours, please." oh how polite they were, always so obedient, always listening out for any command. What a good pet they were, what a good flower they were.

The sounds of material being cut open filled the thick air, along with those rough fingers feeling up the smooth of their back, enjoying the way his canvas felt right under his flaming tips. Diluc could not wait to sink his teeth in and taste their sweet necture himself. Those eyes drunk up their topless form once more before trailing the knife further down, he had other days to take his time with them. Tonight they were his to destroy and break down.

Lips and teeth ran free on their body. Leaving purplish marks against sweet tender skin, his knife work not being cut short. He made sure to tear at their bottoms leaving them in nothing but the bruises he had gifted them. Their sweet moans and whimpers filling his ears, filling his desire to ruin them even further. He wasted no time in running possesive hands down their waist, grabbing at thighs just to pull them apart. The squirming under his palms not going unnoticed, infact he laughed something dark at the way their body twitched and pathetically squealed under his touch.

'Look at you. Isn't this just pathetic, if it were any other day I would give you the honor of laying under my damn boot just to watch your body squirm for me. Just to watch it beg for me to continue, Archons look at how you move, and you expect me to just stand idle while others try and get of piece of you? No, I refuse."

It didn't end there, his touches only got more intense. Grabbing a handful of their ass, manhandling it under a rough smack was placed upon them. Oh he hoped that left a bruise, he hoped that with another smack they would cry out /louder/ for him. He deserved to hear. After nights and endless nights of not being able to see them under him, Diluc deserved to watch them grow more desperate for him.

"Look at that, look at you squirm for me and not him. Listen to the way you call my name and not his. Do you know what that is? It's the signs of you belonging to me, nobody else but me. And if I catch anyone, and I mean /anyone/ putting their damn hands on you I will make sure to take you in front of them. That is a promise, my flower."

He made sure they could feel his now slicked up warm fingers prodding at their entrance, the dark chuckle exiting from his lips and into their burning ears. The warmth of their gates of heaven fans against his fingers and diluc can't help but groan out in pure need. Oh how crazy they make him. With caution diluc moves his fingers in, one and then the next and then the next after that. Each finger slipping inside once pained gasps turned into ones of satisfaction and greed. They were so good for him, taking him like he was no damn problem. As expected of course, it were only his fingers after all, but soon...

Sounds of metal and then thick clothing could be heard hitting the ground. Their ears can pick up the way diluc's breathing deepened, showing signs of how badly he needed this just as much as they did. Hot hands suddenly slam on either side of them, their skin touching so they can feel how hot Diluc was at the moment. No words were spoken while a hand came behind them, caressing that sweet throat just to pull their head back. Lips coming in contact with their own, connecting in this brutal dance of love, crazy untammed and dangerous love.

This was a great time for him to distract them, leading his aching cock with the other free hand he had. Poking at their entrance with the demand to be let in, eyes glowing with determination. Inch by inch walls wrapped tight around him loosened up the more they took him in. Archons the way they arched against his chest and lips trembled against his own, the way they whimpered and furrowed their eyebrows, gods help him for he is a man weakened by the simple sight of them breaking down.

"That's it... There we go, you take it. You take it like the good bitch you are, yeah? Look at you, god damn look at you. Do you think kaeya could make you react like that? Here allow me to help you answer that."

Hips finally got sent flying home. Making contact with their skin, kissing at the thin layer of sweat, evidence of how much work was put in. Diluc felt his grin widen, something so foreign to his features, yet he invited it in whenever they were involved. One hand came down to grip at those hips, pulling them back home to the base of his cock every single time. They cries, oh their sweet cries encouraged diluc to destroy that willing hole of theirs. The tears that began to bubble up brought him nothing but satisfaction, the gush and mess made was art against his now squirming canvas.

"Harder. Cry harder for me if you wish to cum, I promise you I'm not allowing you out of this damn tavern until your tears beg me to. You can squirm and gush all over my fucking cock as much as you please, but until I start seeing some real tears... Well, baby love, you can kiss Kaeya goodbye, would be a shame for him to lose a friend, hm?"

This was followed by harsher thrust, his dick swelling up to the brim, damn near ready to explode and unload deep inside of their aching fuckhole. Oh but the harder they teared up and rushed out with tears, the more diluc couldn't help but wish to fill them up with his thickening seed. His hand on their throat growing tighter and tighter until one more thrust sent them jerking against the edge. Hand now moving to their head, pushing them down until their faces squished against the wooden table. He kept them there while hips rolled his name out against their ass, unloading his cum inside of their shivering walls. Feeling them clench and gush with their own orgasm, oh how proud he was to know they knew when to cum. How proud he was to know that his flower could milk him for everythiing he had.

"That's it.. There we go, you are so good for me, sweet flower. Unfortunately I am not finished with you."

Diluc, a man who will never be satisfied until things were perfect. Diluc , a gentlemen , a man who only believed in trust and hard work. Diluc, the man who could go more than one or two rounds. Diluc , the man who made them scream until their throat went dry and their vision went blurry.

Tonight he laid his claim, and much like many other nights, he will make sure the entire city of Mondtstadt knew who they belonged to.

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