#like name one lyric in that song that isn’t out of pocket

[storiesabouteli]

Do The Damage. Part 2 // Dilf! Noel Gallagher X f!Reader (Smut).

prompt: Noel falling for a younger singer who isn’t famous yet and is just starting out, so he guides her like a tutor to boost her career and help her gain more attention. But would this bond remain purely professional? (Involves smut, with the potential to escalate over time and features an age gap.)

Here's Part 1!!!

words: 5,7k.

a/n: It's supposed to be 4 parts, it doesn't have a grand plot, I just wanted to write about this topic. I hope you like it! (and pls use a condom, this is just a fanfic)

Your curious eyes wandered around the vast studio.

“For now, yes, but later there’ll be more people,” Noel replied, noticing your curiosity.

You nodded, hands tucked into the pockets of your dress. LA was unbearably hot, and he was practically freezing you with the air conditioning. He had shown you every corner of the studio, and by now, you felt fairly comfortable. Guitars adorned the walls, along with basses and a drum set from one of those impossibly expensive brands. You stood in front of him, looking a bit like a lost child, genuinely waiting to be told what to do next.

It took him a moment, but he realized your discomfort.

“Alright, I probably didn’t plan this out too well,” he admitted with a soft laugh. Noel had this way of laughing—never showing his teeth, always restrained—yet it still carried an effort to make you feel welcome. He mentioned having read through the songs you sent, even though he had already listened to them before. Now, he said, he knew the exact lyrics. You were both eager and terrified to know his exact thoughts about your work.

“Is it okay if I use the equipment?” you asked, your fingers lightly brushing one of the microphones as you picked up the headphones, waiting for his approval. Everything about this was new, and you wanted to immerse yourself in every detail.

“Feel free to use whatever you want, little’un.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you bit the inside of your lip to ground yourself. You glanced at the buttons; they were a mystery to you—just rows of switches without any labels that made sense. Noel seemed to forget that all of this was second nature only to him.

“Alright, let’s start by getting you familiar with everything. Once you’re comfortable, we’ll figure out what to do next.”

It sounded like a good idea.

Time flew by. What felt like mere minutes had actually been hours. Occasionally, the two of you would lapse into silence, but it was never awkward. He had a soothing voice, explaining things as if they weren’t obvious, allowing you to visualize every step. You liked the way he talked.

His hair was longer than the last time you had seen him, the dark strands now interspersed with gray and brushing the tops of his ears. The piercing blue of his eyes shone brightly as he spoke and gestured. He wore a dark button-up shirt, which made little sense given the LA heat, but he looked undeniably good in darker colors. The shirt failed to fully conceal the hair on his chest, which peeked out just enough to be distracting.

“This is pretty heavy, Noel,” you said as he handed you a red guitar with his last name etched into its side. It was clearly well-used, with the wear and tear of countless gigs, but it was still beautiful. Noel seemed amused by the way you pronounced his name, your accent stretching the vowels slightly, like it was meant for you to say it that way. That could be your thing, he wouldn't dare to correct it, he even hoped to hear it again.

The guitars you had played before were lighter, simpler, and less durable.

“You can play it if you want. It’s good to get used to a specific guitar early on.”

You listened, feeling an odd warmth in your chest as you wished he would call you “little one” again. You adjusted the strap, your gaze falling to the floor.

“I don’t know how to play,” you admitted softly, your fingers pressing down on the strings without producing any sound.

He nodded, as if he actually understood.

“What don’t you know, little’un?” he asked softly, his expression calm, as though it never crossed his mind that you could be anything less than genuine. His body was behind yours, close enough that you could feel your heart pounding, and you were sure he could hear it. He reached over, placing his hand on the guitar’s neck and gently adjusting a few strings.

The truth was simple: you hummed melodies, your friends figured out the notes, and then you carried them with you.

“I only know my songs,” you admitted, hesitating. “There aren’t many, and I memorized them with the help of some friends at the pub.” The words felt clumsy as they left your mouth. Without realizing it, you took a step back, bumping into Noel’s solid chest. His hands found your waist instinctively, steadying you. He smelled familiar, and his touch was just as cool and soft as you remembered.

"There’s nowt wrong wi' that. No one’s born knowin’.” he said, his voice low and sure, as though speaking directly into your ear. “I’ve learned a lot since the first album; we can work on this if you’d like.”

His breath brushed your skin as he spoke, dangerously close. “Want to try something?” he asked, strumming a short segment of one of your songs. He had memorized the chords—he’d listened to it that much. It felt odd, but you let it go, too focused on steadying your own breathing.

“I’m not sure...” Your voice faltered, and he laughed softly—a nasal, warm sound. His shirt brushed against your bare arms as he shifted closer.

Taking your hands in his, he guided your fingers, demonstrating each press of the strings and the sounds they produced. The simplicity of the act caught you off guard; your mind felt blank as you followed his movements. His hands were strong yet gentle, his fingers adorned with rings that you couldn’t help but notice. You fixated on the way his skin moved against yours, completely distracted.

“This isn’t sounding right,” you said impulsively, turning your face toward him. His eyes, which had been focused on your hands, now met yours, and the proximity was overwhelming. You immediately looked down, feeling vulnerable, and he noticed your hesitance.

“But it will. Trust me, yeah?” His smile was reassuring, revealing slightly crooked lower teeth and the faint lines of age around his eyes. His thumb grazed the bridge of your nose absentmindedly, a fleeting moment of intimacy that made his cheeks flush. He quickly pulled back, brushing his hand over his own face as if the action had been too much.

God, he was something.

“You’re doing well, tiny one,” he murmured, his tone encouraging. “You just need to relax and give it more time.”

Your fingers ached, and you instinctively pulled your hands back. “You trust me a lot,” you said softly.

He noticed the faint bruising on the tips of your fingers, the start of a superficial cut—nothing unusual for someone unused to playing. His gaze softened as he pressed the edge of his shirt to your hand, stopping the bleeding.

“Shouldn’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “Trust yourself, I mean. So far, I haven’t seen anything in you that doesn’t show how good you are at this...” His words trailed off, slightly disjointed, but you found yourself wishing he’d talk about you like that more often.

Noel made a mental note of your cold hands and the way your short, thin clothing seemed to betray the studio’s chill. He pressed your hand one last time as if silently resolving to make sure you were warm and comfortable next time.

…

In the days that followed, before heading back to the hotel, Noel suggested the two of you go out to eat—a way to spend more time talking. His suggestion seemed casual, but beneath it was a genuine effort to do something meaningful for you. He worried about repeating the mistakes he’d made early in Oasis, afraid of being a bad influence or overwhelming you. At the same time, he simply wanted to be around you. Both feelings were true.

Since you’d spent hours at the studio, and he hadn’t thought to offer you a proper meal, he picked a relaxed spot. It had the feel of the pubs you performed in—live music and warm, dim lighting.

When you arrived, a chill brushed against your arms. Noel chuckled, noticing. You hadn’t seen him carrying a jacket, but he swiftly draped one over your shoulders, his gaze thoughtful over you. The weight of it was reassuring.

“I can control the studio’s temperature, but most places here are air-conditioned. You’ll end up freezing,” he said. You didn’t respond, too preoccupied with wondering whether he’d always have a jacket for you—these oversized, cozy layers that swallowed you whole. You liked the way his scent clung to the fabric and hated that your thoughts weren’t as innocent as they should have been.

Sitting across from him, there was nothing to distract you. The moment felt unguarded, almost daunting. He had loosened a few buttons because of the heat, and the soft collar rested against his rosy skin, his neck chain catching faintly in the light. His eyes, unwavering, were on you, and you felt your stomach flutter.

Your foot brushed against his under the table. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but neither of you moved. His posture was relaxed as always, his deep, nasal breaths calming despite the quiet tension in the air. Eventually, your foot settled against his calf, taking in the warmth of him.

“What’s that smell?” he asked, breaking the silence, motioning toward the pink tube of moisturizer in your hand.

“Peach,” you said, your voice betraying a small note of excitement. You wanted to talk more but worried that beyond music, you might not be interesting enough for him.

“It’s nice. It makes me feel less tense,” you admitted. He let you take his hand in yours.

His hands were larger, rougher—calloused in a way yours should have been. You applied a small drop of cream, carefully massaging the hardened patches and tracing the prominent veins. Your nails grazed his wrist lightly, eliciting a pleasant tickle. It felt like an eternity, but neither of you rushed the moment.

You smoothed out the creases in his shirt next, your hands brushing against his wrist as you rebuttoned it. You folded the cuffs to what you assumed he’d consider the perfect height. When you looked up, his jacket was still draped over your shoulders, your smile faint but content. He noticed how the strap of your dress sat slightly askew but didn’t say anything. Instead, you adjusted it yourself, catching his gaze in the process.

Noel shifted uncomfortably, silently berating himself for the thoughts creeping into his mind. But as much as he resented the pull he felt, he couldn’t ignore how real it all seemed.

When you finished, you noticed he was watching you intently. You smiled a bit more openly this time, and his eyes softened, as though they were smiling back. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty—it was full of things neither of you dared to say aloud.

The food arrived shortly after. Noel whispered a quiet “thank you” as you pulled his jacket closer around yourself. He hoped it would carry your scent by the end of the night.

The atmosphere remained easy, the unspoken comfort between you palpable. Noel wasn’t particularly hungry, but watching the way your eyes lit up with every bite and how your smile widened unknowingly made him savor his meal. You made him feel good—better than he had in a long time. Everything else in his life was chaos, except for you.

It had only been a week, but he already felt like he did back in school when he had a crush—looking forward to seeing someone so much it made the days worthwhile. He found himself wanting to avoid trouble, if only to be in a better place whenever he saw you.

At one point, he gently wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb, clearing away a small smudge. You watched him, reflexively brushing the same spot with your hand afterward. For a fleeting moment, Noel considered bringing his thumb to his lips, but he stopped himself, knowing it would feel too weighted. Instead, he wiped it with a napkin, hesitating to apologize lest it make things awkward.

You didn’t seem to mind. Your cheeks were flushed, and the tingling sensation of his touch stayed on your skin. It wasn’t a mistake—you liked it. And as he sat there across from you, watching your expression under the dim light, Noel knew he did too.

…

"Do you need sunscreen? I didn’t see you apply any yet," you asked, preparing your second layer while Noel hadn’t bothered with any. "How disgraceful, Noel. You hardly seem like an older man." He rolled his eyes at your teasing. Until the rest of the team arrived to record your songs, he kept you busy like that, and also by repeating vocal exercises and practicing breathing. It was embarrassing, but hearing him say, "You're doing great, darling. Let’s try one more time, but you’re getting it right," never failed to make you feel both comforted and eager to hug him.

In the coming weeks, you’d be performing together, singing some of his songs as a guest. Nothing had been rehearsed yet, but the thought alone tied a knot of anxiety in your throat. Sharing the stage with him felt unimaginable, especially since you weren’t used to large audiences.

The wind tousled his hair, and his carefree expression was oddly reassuring. You handed him a bit of sunscreen, but his clumsy attempts to apply it made you laugh. "Alright, Noely, let me handle this." Your cool fingertips touched his face as you removed his sunglasses. The scent of peach lingered in the air as you smoothed the cream over his skin, feeling the roughness of his beard under your hands. Noel closed his eyes, letting himself relax–not that he could much.

Tracing the bridge of his nose with your thumb, you made him sigh, his lips parting slightly. For a fleeting moment, time seemed to slow. Stepping back, you finished applying the sunscreen to his shoulders. Even though you wanted to, you didn't go any lower than that, letting him continue on his own.

When his hands moved across your back in return, his warm touch calmed you. Noel’s thoughts wandered, struggling against the pull of desires he knew he shouldn’t entertain. But something about the peaceful way you smiled, eyes closed, made every barrier he’d built feel meaningless.

Gently moving the strap of your bikini aside to cover your skin, he found himself tempted to press his lips to the curve of your neck, imagining how your breath would hitch at the touch. He shouldn’t want this—he knew it. But in that quiet moment, with you so serene and trusting, resisting felt impossible. You were there, unguarded, as though he was your safe haven. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to be.

“Wait a min," you murmured, your voice soft and drawn out, a lazy whisper. Your fingers, light and unsure, fumbled with his as you untied the bikini string, letting it fall away to expose more of your skin–not in a provocative way, but enough to stir something unspoken. His gaze lingered, heavy and unreadable, though he kept his expression neutral.

Careful not to overstep, Noel began rubbing sunscreen over the newly revealed area, his touch slow and deliberate as he worked down toward your waist, barely brushing your hips. Your skin felt impossibly soft beneath his hands, as if it might break with the slightest misstep. With a final, almost reverent squeeze, he let his hand fall away, your body responding with a subtle shiver at the loss of contact and a faint murmur escaping your lips.

Sitting back, Noel noticed how still you were, your head nestled closer to the makeshift pillow of your towel. A quiet chuckle slipped from him as he realized why–you had drifted off, the process taking longer than either of you had anticipated. For a moment, he allowed himself to watch you, his heart caught between tenderness and restraint.

…

The unfolding of the night felt like the complete opposite of the calm that had settled in you earlier. Your chest was heavy, overwhelmed by a sudden realization of just how famous he was. His button-down shirt still smelled like him, and all you could recall was being pressed against his chest as he carefully guided you to a quieter spot. His fingers had gripped your skin, his gaze grounding, and the relieved words, "I think no one saw us," still echoed in your mind, leaving you shaken.

He hadn’t acted on impulse—there were groups of men looking for him, girls with cameras, and he had made it clear that it was important not to be seen with you. It was terrifying in every sense, but what struck you most was the new ache in your chest, knowing he didn’t want to be seen with you.

"I know this happened because you’re well-known," you said, swallowing hard as you struggled to find the right words. Noel knelt in front of you, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. He wasn’t entirely sure how to fix this, but he hoped his presence was enough to offer some comfort. His touch felt right; an unspoken attempt to reassure you, though the proximity unsettled him in ways he couldn’t quite name. Still, given the circumstances, it felt like the right thing to do.

“I’m really sorry, truly. This was careless of me," he apologized, his voice soft but genuine.

You shook your head, your hands gently cupping his face as you pushed his hair back. His deep blue eyes met yours, filled with concern. You were on the verge of tears, and the weight of it all made him uneasy. He wasn’t sure he fully understood your feelings, but they pierced him nonetheless.

"Noel, I might sound stupid, but—" you hesitated. Before you could finish, he pulled you in, his arms wrapping around you with tenderness. Your legs circled his waist as you held onto him tightly. He stroked your hair, surrendering to the closeness, knowing he had never been this intimate with you before—and it was better than he’d ever imagined.

"If they like me, which I really hope they do—you know, with the songs, working with you, and all the pre-album promotion as an artist..." you trailed off, pausing to gather your thoughts. "I don’t want to sound ungrateful. This whole journey with you has been incredible, but... will it be normal?"

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, which made it easier to speak freely without the weight of embarrassment. Noel listened, his mind racing. He hadn’t thought about it like this before—how exposed you’d become to a part of his world he disliked himself. And the truth was, simply avoiding being seen together wouldn’t fix it. Soon, you would be just as much in the public eye as he was.

His tongue rested against the roof of his mouth as your fingers found their place at the nape of his neck, gently tugging at the fine hairs there–much like the way you fidget with the hem of your shirt when you're anxious. It soothed you. Your gaze dropped to his chest, and it hit you that this was the first time you'd held him for so long. He wore a light shirt, but after having seen him without it, the fabric somehow felt far less concealing. You liked everything about this–the warmth radiating from him and the unobstructed view of him in this moment.

He tugged gently at the collar of your shirt, pulling your face closer until his breath danced across your skin. When your eyes met his, you saw no attempt to mask his intent–he was staring straight into your soul. You were beautiful, even now, with red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Understanding the turmoil inside you, he let you whisper through the haze of your emotions, "I can't mess this up.”

His focus didn't waver. Though every part of him wanted to pull you closer, he held back, patiently waiting for you to continue. "I want this too. I just... I don't want you to think less of me, okay?" Tears threatened to spill again. As you instinctively tried to lower your head, he gently tilted your chin back up, fully grasping the weight of what you were trying to express.

"I don't want you to think I'm doing this just because I'm interested in you. I don't want you to see me as..." You hesitated, searching for the right words. Instead of pressuring you, he pressed his forehead lightly against yours, cradling your face in his hands with a tenderness that disarmed you.

"I don't think anything bad about you, uh?" he said softly, unwavering but gentle. "I've never thought that way. These are just your worries, you got me? Nothing's gonna change the fact that I think you're talented and competent. That has nothing to do with how I see you as a professional. You don't have to be afraid of that."

His voice was firm, louder than usual, the roughness in his tone just right. Each word sank in, steadying you as you listened. He swallowed hard, his lips slightly parted, and you couldn't help but notice how patient he was, how perfectly he seemed to understand that you needed this moment to gather yourself. Your fingers tightened around his, and then, finally, your lips found his.

The kiss was slow, tentative. Though you felt self-conscious, unsure of yourself, it was warm, grounding. He pulled you closer, your body naturally molding against his as if you belonged there.

When you began to pull back, a flicker of doubt creeping in, his hand caught the collar of your shirt again, pulling you back into a deeper, more urgent kiss. The gesture made it clear–he had been waiting for this far too long to let you retreat now. As you leaned back slightly, he held you firmly, sensing how you were beginning to soften against him.

He chuckled into the kiss, his breath against your skin. His tongue brushed yours, the movements slow and deliberate, every kiss lingering as if he wanted to savor each second. The taste was salty–a mix of your tears and the sea–and you couldn't help but laugh softly at the thought of him being "seasoned.”

Your hand reached up to brush the hair from his face, and you took in the sight of him. His cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen, and his beard scratched gently against your skin, a sensation you hadn't fully processed until now. You wanted more, and for the first time, you didn't feel the need to hold back.

"You're beautiful," he said softly. You nodded, your lashes fluttering in a way that made him wonder if it was his words or his voice causing it. Either way, he was determined to keep seeing that reaction.

He ran his calloused fingers along up the curve of your thigh, stopping just at the edge, giving your hips a firm squeeze. Your nails dug into his shoulders in anticipation as your legs parted briefly, giving him better access and also making the fabric of your shirt give him a better view. The bottom of your bikini clung tightly to your skin, leaving faint indentations where the fabric pressed. His lungs filled with heavy air, as did his mouth with saliva, and he kissed the spot with a light bite.

He didn't need to ask, soon your back was against the sheets. You weren't scandalous to his ears, but something about it made you more noticeable, your breathing loud and prolonged. He undid the ties, brushing the rings on the sides, and revealing your flesh little by little. He moved one of your hands that were on your belly away and kissed the spot before looking at you. He wanted so much for this to be comfortable for you.

"Y’alright there, little’un?” Your eyes were teary, and he had barely touched you. You nodded, a simple noise of agreement. Your attention was his, your fingers entering his hair in a caress that made him close his eyes, resting his chin on your skin.

He dragged his face, soaking in your sounds, as the texture of his newly grown beard took hold of your exposure.

He chuckled, his nose touching your center, just enjoying how your fingers tightened in his hair to get him closer. This would take time, he was in no rush. He kissed your skin, groaning as he felt your taste on his tongue and realized how wet you were. His hands tightened around you, holding your hips and dragging them so that it would be better for him.

His body was warm, he pulled away slightly, touching his fingers to you and pushing them in just a little. Your legs moved back, but your only vision was of him leaning his head closer and sucking on his fingers right after, licking his red lips and swallowing cautiously.

"Yer proper good, yeah?" Your lips were a bit open, not knowing if that needed to be answered. It was a short pause, which felt like hours, but soon his eyes were closed and his tongue was firmly inside you.

When his fingers took their place inside you, the wet kisses started to be on your clit. His coordination was remarkable, worthy of what he did for a living. He pushed his fingers until they disappeared inside you, pulsated them in the right place thanks to your whimpering, until your legs tightened a little, and then he pulled them out completely wet and repeated it all over again. His tongue followed this rhythm, unerring, saliva joining with his fingers, your clit pulsating on his lips and he grunted with it as if giving you pleasure was something pleasurable for him.

"Noel," his name sounded like a plea. He had other plans, but your elongated vocals and honeyed voice made him lose himself there, his free hand caressing your belly and your hips trembling shyly against his face. He felt your cum build up on his fingertips and dripping down the corners of his mouth, with each gasp of yours, the more impossible it was to stop.

Your voice was more broken, it was possible to hear your throat scratching. Your eyes were closed, his fingers stuck in his hair, in a way that would certainly make him sore later, your thigh gradually stopped shaking and his muscles relaxed. Noel didn't leave, he just stayed close, with light kisses until it was over, even though your reaction was to rub yourself against him more, his nose brushing against you and his beard hurting you. When your eyes opened, meeting his, it still lasted a little longer until you had no other option but to stop because you felt too sensitive.

Nothing was said, it wasn't necessary. The crossed line already made things more tangible. He kissed your cheek, the salty taste leaving his chest warm. The corners of your eyes still overflowed, and he gently wiped them away. Your gaze followed him, his subtle smile still shining for you. There was a distinct difference from the other relationships you'd had before; you felt cherished there. He could have other relationships that weren't with you, but you were there.

"Do you want me to do something?" Your lack of action irritated you, but the awareness that he was older, had been through this countless times, and that everything had worked out so well from what you'd just seen, left you feeling insecure. You certainly didn't have many people to compare him to, and he did with you—though he wouldn't act on it…

He laughed, in a more sincere way, different from before. He was taking off his clothes, your attention distant yet present on him. His body was mature, the hair filling his chest fully and running down his stomach, he had a well-defined V of his abdomen, although he was not a muscular man. "God," he shook his head, kissing the side of your face.

He pulled the fabric of your shirt away, pressing his lips to your clavicle. Instinctively, you turned your face, giving him more space, allowing the kisses to trail upwards. Your fingers traced along his shoulders, then down his arm, only to rise again, lingering on his forearm before tightening around his neck in a hug.

"You’re proper tasty.” Your face nestled against his neck as he nibbled on your skin, making you laugh softly against him. He pulled you tighter, and you could feel every part of him–his warm body, the hairs sticking to your chest, mingling with the sweat between you and the weight between the legs touching you.

"You alright, love?” He pushed your hair away from your face, searching for an answer in your eyes, beyond just words. You nodded, letting his body fall onto yours, the comforting and precise weight settling perfectly.

Your button-down shirt was slightly open, still leaving room for imagination. He could see little of your cleavage, but that wasn't important, even so he sucked the exposed skin in a bite and released it slightly until a subtle mark was left. He adjusted himself, his forehead nearly touching yours, and your half-lidded eyes stayed fixed on him.

The wait was intentional, Noel didn't want to overwhelm you. Your gaze on him was as sensitive as your legs had been minutes ago, his patience more about not hurting you and making this more bearable. He watched your breathing return to normal, only for him to destroy it all over again. He felt sore, craving it so badly, but the whole vision was worth it.

Your nails dug into his back, and in total control, he filled you up. The air left his lungs in a rough grunt as your body was thrust forward by the impact, your hips meeting, and your eyes softly closing as everything fell into place. Your thighs tightened around him, but not so much that he couldn't move. The edges of your eyes started to water again, and he found this to be a new addiction of his.

"Yer can handle it.” The still bodies, the sweat and his voice working on you like anesthetics. He was waiting for you to get used to having him inside and you really needed it, you still felt sensitive, but you liked the sensation. “You're a big girl, right? You can handle it.” The crease between his brows deepened with every word, and there was something so satisfying about it.

Tears streamed down your face and he was attentive to your movements, being careful with you. The effect of his voice on you was very clear, with each syllable or compliment attributed. Your bodies dissolved into the sheets and soon the room was filled with wet noises and your pitiful grumbling.

"I’m ‘ere, ain’t I?” His hands on you, squeezing and pulling your body towards him were very firm, and although good, they would leave marks to be appreciated later. His face above yours was sweating a lot, in a way that made you want to lick it, the corners of his hair were damp and his cheeks and lips were red and you could feel him in your stomach. “I'm all yours, little’un.” His nose pressed against yours, and then his lips, the delicious sweat on your tongue, taking all your remaining breath.

His voice began to sound more distant, his sighs heavier as he went deeper into you following your fingers digging into his skin. You were so delicate beneath him, your movements moderate yet painful, so as not to disturb him, as if you expected to be punished otherwise.

He moved his hand down to your clit, pressing just enough to add to your desperation. His abdomen ached in a good way, your stomach clenching as your entire body wrapped tightly around his. His mouth went dry, and he watched you squirm, your legs suffocating him and your whimpering increasing.

He licked his lips, your body fragile and trembling before him, your little nod indicating for him to continue, not that you could take much. He didn't need much either, the wet noises were more intense, his hips more precise as you writhed and it wasn't long before you were being filled with warmth.

Still you moaned in disapproval as soon as he pulled out of you, he was careful, and you felt him slip out of you between your legs. Nothing was strange anymore, just intimate, in a way it shouldn't be. He then lay down next to you and you didn't know where you belonged or what to do.

Noticing your expression, he draped the sheet over your body. You nestled into his chest, burying your face there as if what had just happened was something insignificant. "I’m the one who should be hiding like this; I’m the old one ‘ere," he said, his tone light and teasing, trying to ease your shoulders. He could tell you were feeling shy.

"You’re good," you murmured, exhaustion settling in as his fingers lazily traced patterns along your back, grounding you to him.

"You’re good too, love," he replied, his eyes fixed on you—calm, unguarded, and without fear. You began to feel a chill crawl up your spine. Was this going to be a problem? He didn’t want to be seen with you, there was a noticeable age gap between you, and though you felt understood by him, you were convinced this was nothing more than a fleeting amusement for him. You told yourself you could handle it, enjoy the moment, but how would it feel to see him again in the coming days?

"I need to take this," he said, grabbing his phone, which you hadn’t even heard ring. Still, he stayed beside you, his calloused fingers exploring your skin with reverence, each touch gentle, as though memorizing you. He mentioned needing to meet someone—Gem, apparently, who had just arrived. Leaning in, he kissed your forehead, then the crown of your head, with tenderness that almost undid you.

"You can stay ‘ere if you want," he offered. "I just need to hand over the studio key to a friend. I’ll be back before you know it."

It was clear from the hesitation in his voice, even in the words he spoke on the phone, that he didn’t want to leave the bed. You nodded with a soft smile, and he kissed your shoulder one last time before reluctantly slipping away.

The question lingered: could you get used to this? Perhaps. But deep down, you knew he had no reason to nurture this.

[lncomfortable]

i LOVE hits different but lyrically that song is so unhinged

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

The Wisdom Saga: My Thoughts

Hey all!!!! Here are my thoughts on the Wisdom Saga from EPIC: The Musical!

Overall it isn’t my favorite (Circe/Thunder my beloveds), but it’s still pretty good imho!

Legendary

Love how upbeat this one is. MICO as Telemachus is VERY good, and I especially liked the little trembles/voice cracks (?) as he sang! Gave Tem a “young” vibe.

also loved that “L-L-L-L-Legendary” lol

ITS THE ANIMATIC FROM THE REFERENCE VIDEO :D

The Suitors’ voices 👌 also ANTINUOUS JUMPSCARE. HOW DARE YOU CALL PENELOPE A TRAMP WHEN YOU’RE THE ONE TRYING TO GET INTO HER BED.

Antinuous’s lines are the perfect ick. The ToA Discord and I were all typing out various amounts of EW, ICKY, GET OUT at his parts.

Fight Little Wolf

This is possibly my favorite from this saga! I’ve been looking forward to this one for a while, and I was really excited for it! Athena coming in was brilliant and I love it :3

We’ll Be Fine

ATHENA CALLED ODYSSEUS FRIEND. OWIE.

Anybody else pick up on a similar melody to Open Arms? Because ow.

Love In Paradise

LOVED the flashbacks at the beginning!

The unhingedness Gigi gave Calypso LMAO Zero social interaction does that to you lol

“Last I checked goddesses can’t die!” Stream gets censored

I PANICKED AT THAT LMAO

all I hear are screams…the ptsd is real

“Stay in my open arms” and then IMMEDIATELY triggering an Open Arms reprise. HOW DARE YOU JAY.

NOT ONLY THAT. BUT ALSO EURYLOCUS REPRISING LUCK RUNS OUT AND ANTICLEA’S WAITING. OUCH.

God Games

This is in battle with Little Wolf for favorite Wisdom Saga song lol

THE INTRODUCTION TO THE GODS SLAPPED. WOLFY YOU WONDERFUL WOLF THAT WAS AWESOME.

APOLLO GIVING A LIL BOW AND CASUALLY WAVING TO (us) HIS ADORING FANS (also us)

don’t mind me fangirling he’s my favorite and he was GORGEOUS

Hephaestus being voiced by Jorge’s dad!!!!

I really liked how Luke Holt delivered Ares’s name. Very gritty and perfect I love <3

APOLLO’S LITTLE SMIRK WHEN HE SAYS “GREAT.” I’M DEAD I’VE DIED RIP ALDER

APOLLOOOOOOOOO

his part was sadly short, but honestly? It makes sense why it would be! Apollo really has no beef with Odysseus, and the Sirens are a little out of pocket, like he was assigned to play the game but is throwing Athena an easy thing to counter so he can get back to Orestes and also Athena owes him a solid so EPIC’s explanation for Athena helping Apollo in the Oresteia? 👀 I’m a nerd connecting the dots leave me be

“If that’s true then release him 🙄💅” Apollo has no time for this bullshit he’s like “come on dad why did you pull ME into this?” Lmaoooo

Hephaestus’s part about trust!! I love. Also the lyricism here and in Apollo’s is very very good <3

APHRODITE. Unlike Apollo and Hephaestus, who were rather quick to support Athena, she’s moments away from going “no ♥️💋”

ARES’S ENTRANCE WAS SPETACULAR NO NOTES I LOVE

DISCO HERA!! ANNIFLAMMA THAT WAS SO GOOD AHHHHHHH THE STYLE THE SWAG THE SASS 100/10

THUNDER BRINGER REPRISE AHHHHHH WITH BEAST MODE ZEUS

Also Athena ain’t dead lol she comes back in King isn’t it? Also she’s a GOD. Who CAN’T DIE.

I’ve seen criticism about Zeus attacking Athena, and about how he wouldn’t do that because she’s a favorite…but the thing is, in The Iliad, he does threaten to blast her and Hera off their chariots at one point…plus Apollo’s a favorite too, and he was nearly thrown into Tartarus by Zeus! Being the favorite doesn’t automatically mean you can get away with anything and everything, so I headcanon that Zeus got a bit more peeved than usual because of just how quickly Athena swayed the others (this can connect to the Odyssey then too, because the majority of the gods already agreed that Odysseus had suffered enough and were quite willing to let him go).

I have additional thoughts on God Games, but that’s for another post since it detracts from the actual livestream, but overall I really enjoyed this one! It’s the first livestream I’ve seen in full, though I do think Thunder Saga was more impactful to watch (I watched that livestream too, but came in at the end of No Longer You).

Two sagas to go!! I’ll be updating my tier list sometime soon as well, so stay tuned for that!!

[deans-queen]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Y/N (Female Reader)

Summary: Russell and Reader's relationship is slowly dying.

Warnings: angst, arguing, relationship problems, smut, emotional topics.

Pre-AN: This fills the "The Last Time by Taylor Swift" square for @jacklesversebingo. Bold/italic text -> song lyrics

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I never thought we’d become strangers in the same room. It’s what people always warned me about—how love can fade, how fire turns to ash, how two people who once couldn’t keep their hands off each other end up avoiding eye contact across the dinner table.

But here we are….

Russell Shaw—my Russell—used to look at me like I was the only thing that mattered. Now, his eyes dart to his phone, to the TV, anywhere but me. It’s been weeks, months even, of silence so loud it’s deafening. When we speak, the words are barbed, sharpened by frustration.

The night everything shattered, it started small, like most fights do. He came home late again. I sat on the couch, my legs curled under me, wearing one of his sweatshirts that no longer smelled like him.

“Hey,” he mumbled, barely sparing me a glance as he kicked off his shoes.

“Hey,” I echoed, flat and lifeless. I watched him drop his keys on the table like this was just another day, like we hadn’t been drifting apart for what felt like an eternity.

“You could’ve called,” I said finally, my voice quiet but sharp.

Russell sighed, running a hand through his messy dark hair. “Don’t start, Y/N. It’s been a long day.”

The words scraped against me like nails on a chalkboard. “Don’t start?” I repeated, standing up. “I’ve been sitting here for hours, waiting for you, and I’m starting?”

“Yeah, you are,” he snapped, turning toward me now. “Jesus, can’t you just let it go for once? It’s like you’re always looking for a fight.”

The laugh that escaped me was bitter. “I’m looking for a fight? I’m looking for a fight? I’m looking for you to give a damn about this relationship, Russell. But I guess that’s too much to ask.”

And there it was—the crack, the rupture. It all came spilling out after that. Words we couldn’t take back.

“Maybe we should stop trying so hard,” he finally said, his voice quieter but no less deadly. “Because clearly, this isn’t working.”

The silence that followed was the longest pause of my life. I felt like the floor had dropped from beneath me.

“So that’s it?” I whispered. My voice broke. “You’re just gonna give up??”

He looked at me, and for the first time in months, I thought I saw pain in his eyes. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Then go,” I choked out, tears brimming. “If you don’t know how to fix this, if you don’t want to fix us—then go.”

He didn’t argue.

Russell grabbed his keys, his wallet, and the jacket I had bought him last Christmas. He didn’t look back as the door slammed shut behind him.

The days without him were quiet. The worst kind of quiet, where I’d hear phantom echoes of him in every corner of our home. His laugh. The way he’d say my name when he was teasing me. His voice rough and low when he’d whisper dirty things in my ear, pulling me close as his hands wandered. I’d lie in our bed at night, curling into his empty side, remembering the way his body would press against mine, the way he’d kiss me until I couldn’t breathe.

Now I couldn’t breathe for an entirely different reason.

This is the last time I’m asking you this

Put my name at the top of your list

This is the last time I’m asking you why

You break my heart in the blink of an eye.

I thought that this—us—was over for good… and it tore me apart.

And then, one evening, there was a knock on the door.

When I opened it, there he stood. Russell Shaw. His dark eyes were shadowed, his jaw tense, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hi,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to slam the door in his face. The other part wanted to throw myself into his arms and tell him I’d take him back in an instant.

“What do you want, Russell?” I whispered, my throat tight.

He stepped closer, closing the space between us. “You.”

Tears burned my eyes. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it,” he said firmly, reaching out to touch my face. His palm was warm against my skin, and I couldn’t help but lean into it. “Sweetheart… I’ve been a fucking idiot. I let us fall apart, and I didn’t fight for you like I should’ve. I can’t…” He exhaled sharply. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”

The tears I’d been holding back spilled over. “You broke my heart, Russell.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice thick. “Let me fix it. Please.”

I looked up into his eyes, searching for a lie, but all I saw was sincerity and desperation.

He didn’t wait for me to answer. His mouth was on mine before I could think, his lips rough and hungry, like he was trying to remind me what we still had. My body melted into his, the familiar strength of his arms wrapping around me, pulling me tight against him.

“I missed you,” he groaned against my mouth, his voice a low growl that sent shivers through me. His hands slid down to my hips, gripping them hard as he pressed me back against the door. “I need you, Y/N.”

“Russ…” I whispered, breathless, but my protests faded when his lips trailed to my neck. His teeth scraped lightly against my skin, and I let out a soft moan.

“I fucked up,” he muttered, kissing a path along my collarbone. “But I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Do you hear me?”

I couldn’t speak. I just nodded, clutching at his shirt, desperate to feel him closer, to remind myself he was real, that he was here.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice hoarse. “Say I’m yours.”

“You’re mine,” I whispered. “Always.”

He kissed me again, slower this time, like he was trying to memorize me.

And in that moment, as he held me like I was his whole world, I believed him.

I knew we still had a long way to go. I knew love alone wouldn’t fix us. But as Russell murmured my name against my lips, his hands tender and firm all at once, I let myself hope.

The weight of his words lingered in the air between us, heavy and warm. Russell pressed me against the door like he couldn’t bear even an inch of space. His lips hovered just above mine, our breaths mingling, both of us caught in the pull that had always been magnetic.

“Russell…” I breathed, his name soft but full of everything I hadn’t said these past weeks—hurt, longing, love.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. His hands slid up my sides, slow and deliberate, leaving fire in their wake. “I need to hear you, baby.”

“Russell.”

He groaned, his forehead dropping to mine for a brief second, as if to steady himself. Then he kissed me again, harder this time. It wasn’t careful or polite. It was desperate, hungry—like he was trying to pull me back to him, piece by piece. My arms wrapped around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair as I kissed him back just as fiercely.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered between kisses, his voice breaking. “God, Y/N… I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

The wall was cold against my back, but it only made the heat between us more unbearable. I gasped as his hands roamed, gripping my hips, pulling me flush against him. There was no mistaking the hardness pressing against me, and my body answered without hesitation—my legs wrapping around him, the ache in my core making me dizzy.

He carried me easily, his strength still so familiar, as if he’d never stopped holding me like this. We didn’t speak as he walked us into the living room, his lips never leaving mine. I felt the soft cushion of the couch against my back as he laid me down, hovering over me.

Russell’s dark eyes searched mine, his expression tender but still laced with that possessive fire I’d missed. “Tell me this is okay.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “It’s more than okay.”

His lips found mine again, and I lost myself in him. The way he kissed me was different—like he was afraid this really was the last time. His tongue teased mine, coaxing soft moans from me as his hands pushed the hem of my shirt up.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered, his voice thick as he looked down at me. He tugged my shirt over my head, tossing it aside before leaning down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along my chest. My skin tingled as he moved lower, his teeth grazing my skin, leaving faint marks that burned with pleasure.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his breath hot against my stomach as he unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them down my legs. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to touch you.”

“I’ve always been yours,” I replied, my voice breaking with need.

Russell growled softly at my words, his hands gripping my thighs as he spread them apart, his dark gaze devouring me. He trailed soft kisses up the inside of my legs, his stubble rough against my skin in the best way.

“You’re shaking, baby,” he whispered, his voice husky as he kissed higher. “What’s wrong? You know I’m going to take care of you.”

I bit my lip, my fingers curling into the cushions as he finally pressed his mouth to where I needed him most. My head fell back, a strangled moan escaping as his tongue moved slowly, teasing me just enough to drive me insane.

“Russell…”

“Hmm?” he hummed, his tone smug and full of heat as his lips moved against me. “You sound so pretty when you say my name like that.”

I whimpered, my body arching against him, and he tightened his grip on my thighs, holding me in place as he worked me to the edge. My body burned for him—every inch of me responding to his touch like it had been starved for it.

When I was trembling and breathless, he finally pulled back, his lips glistening as he looked up at me. “Not yet,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “I need you around me, Y/N. I need to feel you.”

I barely had time to process before he was shedding his clothes, the sharp lines of his body still as breathtaking as I remembered. Russell hovered over me again, his weight pressing me into the couch as he settled between my thighs.

He didn’t hesitate. He pushed into me with one slow, deep thrust, and I gasped, clutching at his back. Russell groaned into my ear, his breath ragged as he buried himself in me.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You feel so damn perfect.”

I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper as he moved��slow at first, savoring every second, as if he was trying to remember how we fit together so perfectly. My body arched into him, meeting each thrust, each roll of his hips.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, his lips trailing along my jaw. “Every inch of you is mine.”

“Yes,” I moaned, my voice breathless and needy.

He kissed me hard then, his rhythm quickening as the tension built between us. His name fell from my lips over and over, each word drowned out by the sound of our bodies meeting, the soft creak of the couch beneath us. Russell’s hands roamed my body like he was memorizing every curve, every reaction.

When I finally came undone, the world spun. I clung to him, crying out as my body trembled beneath him. He followed moments later, groaning my name like a man who’d just found salvation.

Russell collapsed against me, his chest rising and falling as we caught our breath together. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel alone.

After a moment, he shifted, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “I meant what I said,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I love you. I never stopped.”

Tears stung my eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from pain. I cupped his face in my hands, pulling him down to kiss me softly.

“I love you too,” I whispered.

This wasn’t the end for us.

Not yet.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞🤍

I realized the other day before writing this that I have not used Russell and he is SO underrated ! This was a sad one but of course you guys know I’m gonna make it a happy ending - with smut included 🤭🥰

Hope you enjoyed this story!

Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

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[gaarasfiance]

Cardigan

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem Reader (version of jason isn’t mentioned but i wrote it with his original storyline death from Batman: A Death In The Family, not a later, retconned version)

Warnings: angst but also fluff, reader is a famous singer, use of Y/N, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, lmk if i missed any), swearing, makes references to other songs (Lover by Taylor Swift, Lucky People by Waterparks, and Favorite Record by Fall Out Boy), i reread this like 8 times but i couldve missed things so don't flame me if theres any fuck ups in there lmao

Word Count: 4,175

A/N: (yes i know cardigan is part of the teenage love triangle songs, yes i made it into somewhat fluff because i fucking wanted to, whats it to you? I was just listening to cardigan (by taylor swift if you were unaware) in the shower and had this beautiful idea of like what if rather than it being about getting cheated on, i make it about the reader experiencing Jason’s death (and resurrection)? also i color coded the dialogue which is something i normally don't do soooo fun little touch i guess.) (originally posted may 22, 2023 on an alternate account)

IMPORTANT NOTE: Italics mean it’s a flashback, bold and bigger means it's a song lyric, regular text means it's happening in real time. (with very obvious exceptions) Cool? Cool. also, real quick, THE FLASHBACKS ARE NOT IN PERFECT CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER!!!!

“HELLO GOTHAM CITY!” The crowd roared in excitement. Y/N was excited too, it was her first show in Gotham in a long time. This was her first tour in a long time. Of course, she let the public think that it was just because she was a teenager focusing on school, not because when she was 16 her first love the love of her life had been brutally murdered…

“It’s really nice to be playing a hometown show, and since this is my first one in forever, how about I play you something brand new?” Screams erupted in the audience, people pulling out their phones to get the first recording of a brand new song. 

“This one means a lot to me, it’s about someone very special to me, and how he came back to me when I needed him most. This is a quieter one so I'm gonna need you all to listen, and please don’t judge me if I cry during this. Alright, this one’s called ‘cardigan’ everybody!” 

Rows and rows of people buzzed with excitement as the music began to play.

~

Vintage tee, brand new phone

Y/N and Jason walked in, strutting about as if they were models in the new vintage tees Y/N had bought for them at the thrift store just days before. They strolled about the mall, eventually making the stop to get Jason a new phone, he had dropped his from a rooftop on patrol the night before. Oops. 

“Jay, baby, you can’t just use Bruce’s credit card without asking all the time” Y/N smiled, knowing Jason wasn’t going to listen to her 

“Says who? Besides, I told him I was taking it. If he didn’t want to pay for me to get a new phone, he should’ve given me a secure pocket in the suit for it like I asked.” Jason shrugged. He wasn’t atrociously rebellious at all times, but he knew Bruce had more than enough money for him to get a new phone, and to treat his girlfriend, and best friend, when he wanted to. “Plus, if I didn’t take his card, I wouldn’t be able to spoil you, would I?” He wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her temple as they walked out of the store.

High heels on cobblestone

Y/N’s heels clicked loudly against the cobblestone walkway as she made her way to the entrance of the Wayne gala, arm linked with Jason’s. 

“Are you sure I look alright? I’ve never worn a dress this fancy Jason. Should I even be at a Wayne gala I mean–” Jason cut her off.

“Sweetheart you look perfect. And if anyone tells you otherwise I will personally ask Bruce to kick them out.”

“Jay, you can’t do that.”

“According to who? I have adopted Wayne privilege and you’re the one who’s Bruce’s favorite”

“I am not Bruce’s favorite!”

“Yes you are, princess.”

He dragged her into the gala, excited to spend a night with her, and after that, her first Wayne gala was nothing but history, as she attended every single one at her lover’s side.

When you are young they assume you know nothing

“That boy is a delinquent Y/N! I doubt you even know anything about him, has he even told you how he came to meet Mr Wayne?” Y/N’s father shouted. He’d never liked Jason, despite him being Y/N’s best friend for years before things ever became romantic. She used to be able to avoid it, but when her mom moved out of state for work and Y/N wanted to stay in Gotham… well this was her only option.

“Yes dad, I know how he met Bruce! You realize I knew him long before he was adopted by Bruce Wayne right? That I didn’t just go for him because he was rich? You assume because I’m young that I know nothing!”

“Clearly you don’t know anything if you would choose to be with a boy who is a thief! He tried to steal Mr. Wayne’s tires!”

“He was trying to steal them because he was living on the streets and needed money to fucking eat, Dad! Clearly you’re the one who knows nothing here!”

She stormed out of the house, furiously texting Jason and trying to will away the angry tears. 

Sequined smile, black lipstick

Y/N grinned at Jason, her black lipstick fresh as they prepared to go to a party. Bruce had cleared Jason of Robin duty for the weekend and they’d decided to take time to enjoy being normal teenagers. 

“What do you think?” She asked, still smiling

“I think… I’m really tempted to kiss that lipstick right off of you”

“Come do it then.”

Sensual politics

“Do you ever think about sensual politics?” Y/N looked up at Jason, her head in his lap as he read a book.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘sensual politics’?”

“Like the politics of being flirtatious or like building a relationship with someone, but like also kind of a play on sexual politics and people’s perception of the difference’s between men and women and the politics of it, you know? Like they’re both very different things but you can name them the same thing”

“And you’re calling that sensual politics?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“I wish I could understand what’s going on in that brain of yours. You’re such a nerd, princess”

When you are young they assume you know nothing

“Jaybird, if you hurt her, I hope you know I’ll have to break your legs” Dick shrugged as if this was common knowledge.

“I won’t hurt her, Dickwad. She’s the best thing to happen to me.”

“Okay, but you’re young and stupid, anything could happen.”

“Just because you knew nothing when you were young doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

But I knew you

Years ago, Y/n was 11 and Jason was 10. Y/N was on her way home from the school when she saw someone she recognized. 

“Hey! You’re the boy from the library! You showed me my favorite book!”

Jason flushed, unaware that she’d remember him, or that she’d take the recommendation he’d once given her seriously

“Yeah uh, hi. My names Jason, Jason Todd.” He stuck his hand out to shake.

She placed her hand in his and shook. "Y/N."

Dancin' in your Levi's

Y/N and Jason slow danced in her room, her record player spinning some old collection she’d snagged from Wayne manor.

“I was unaware that Levi’s were ballroom attire, Monsieur.”

“And I was unaware your bedroom counted as a ballroom, Mademoiselle”

Drunk under a streetlight, I

“Jason you’re drunk.”

“No I’m notttt. Please Y/N pleeeeaaassseee be my girlfriend.”

“You’re drunk Jay, if you weren’t then you’d remember I already am.” She laughed, watching her lover shoot up in excitement

“Really? That’s so cool!”

I knew you

"Y/N what do you think? Do you think he'd like this for his birthday?"

"Why are you asking me? You're his brother!"

"Yeah but you know him better than anyone else"

Hand under my sweatshirt

"Jason Peter Todd get your cold ass hands out from under my sweatshirt!"

"What do you mean princess?" He dragged his freezing cold hands further up her back

"Eek!"

Baby, kiss it better, I

Y/N carefully finished wrapping the bandages around Jason's waist.

"I can't believe you got stabbed!"

"Kiss it better?"

"Dork." She pressed a kiss to his bandages, before making her way up to his lips.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

“What’s got you down princess?” Jason quirked an eyebrow, the moment Y/N entered the manor there was an unhappy energy on her, like she was faking her smile. He knew her all too well. “Come here”. He opened his arms to her, gesturing that she should come lay with him on the excessively large couch (rich people bro) and she happily obliged, latching onto his side like a koala with her head on his chest.

“It’s just… I don’t know, sometimes I feel like an old cardigan, under someone’s bed. Just… forgotten.”

“I could never forget you. Sometimes people lose things that are important to them. If you’re an old cardigan then I’m finding you and putting you on because the whole time you were my favorite.” He pressed a kiss to her hair.

“How poetic” She could feel his chest shake as he laughed.

“What can I say? I’m a man of literature. Speaking of which! Do you want to watch Pride and Prejudice?”

“Again?”

“Yes, AgAiN”

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend, beaming. “Always.”

A friend to all is a friend to none

“You can’t keep acting like nothing is going on Jason. You love her, so why are you friends with someone like the asshole who ruined her reputation?”

“Dammit Dick, I didn’t even know that he was the one who did that until a like week ago!”

“And you’ve hung out with him twice since then! A friend to all is a friend to none, Jaybird.”

Chase two girls, lose the one

Surely all of Gotham had heard them arguing from their favorite spot on the roof of the library.

“Jason I understand that you want to go meet your birth mother, but why does that mean you have to not be in touch for an undetermined amount of time? I don’t understand why finding her means leaving me!” Y/N hadn’t meant to shout. She wasn’t actually mad at him. She understood why he wanted to go, but that didn’t make him leaving hurt any less. Why should she have to lose contact with him, let him run off to another continent without any knowledge of if he was okay?

“Sweetheart I’m not leaving you, I’m just trying to find my mom…”

“Yeah, at the expense of me! Jay I will never prevent you from doing something this important to you but that will not change the fact that this hurts me. That I’ll be lying awake at night not knowing if you’re okay or if you’re even going to want me when you come home! Not even being able to ask Bruce if you’re okay because you plan on doing this without his knowledge! For fucks sake Jason do you realize how that would feel?”

“God dammit Y/N why can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because you’re LEAVING ME. You know what, go ahead and go Jason. You’re choosing to chase two girls and you’ve lost this one.” She made her way down, trying not to let her hands shake from all the emotional turmoil, at least not until she was on the ground again. There was no way she would know how much she’d regret saying that to him.

When you are young, they assume you know nothing

“It’s your first heartbreak Y/N, you’ll get over it. It was teenage puppy love, something was bound to happen.” Her father had no clue. It had been days and she hadn’t heard from Jason. Last she checked with Alfred, Bruce had followed him out to the middle east somewhere. 

“This was, this is so much more than that. You’re doing it again, assuming that because I’m young I must know nothing.”

“Clearly you don’t know anything.”

But I knew you

“When were you gonna tell me that you being a literature nerd was knowledge Dick wasn’t supposed to get his hands on?” Y/N gave him a look. The look that says ‘i didn't know this was a secret so you can't be upset i spilled’

“Shit, princess, please don’t tell me you told him… he’ll never let me live it down!”

“Oops?” She shrugged. He started to say something else but she kissed him before the words could escape. “It’s alright Jay, it makes you a romantic. And it means I know you better than him.”

Jason smiled. “I guess you’re right…”

Playing hide-and-seek and

“Do you wanna play hide and seek?”

“Sweetheart, aren’t we too old for that?”

“Who said that? Come onnn"

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“You know I can’t say no to you.”

Giving me your weekends, I

“You know we don’t have to spend every weekend together right? You can hang out with your friends or your family if you want.”

“Why would I do that when I could give you all my weekends?”

I knew you

"How did you know to tell Bruce I wanted adjustments on the Robin bike?"

"Because I'm just cool like that. And i know you. Now come on, let's take it for a spin!"

Your heartbeat on the High Line

Y/N pressed the side of her head to Jason's chest as a stranger took their photo on the High Line. The trip to New York had been spontaneous, something they'd decided to do for spring break.

After taking her phone back from the kind stranger and thanking them, Y/N turned to her dear boyfriend.

"I could hear your heartbeat you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you'd think it was our first date or something." Y/n grinned.

"Because you make me feel... I don't know, like Pip if Estella was actually good for him?"

"Did you just reference Great Expectations at me as a way of expressing your feelings?"

"Maybe?"

"Kiss me."

Once in twenty lifetimes, I

Y/N often thought of how her mother had once told her that true teenage love like the one she had with Jason only came once in 20 lifetimes. Although, in retrospect maybe it's twice in two lifetimes, or once in one, for the partner who didn't die.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

"Would I still be your favorite person if I was a worm?"

"Well no cause you wouldn't be a person anymore, but you'd be my favorite worm-"

"You know what? I'll take it."

"You'll always be my favorite."

To kiss in cars

"Jason Todd, you are a menace to society."

"What? How?"

"You brought me out to Bruce's Rolls-Royce to make out."

"So?"

and downtown bars

"Who would've thought the boy wonder had a fake ID?"

"Maybe his girlfriend who's cousin made it for him"

"What? Which one?"

Jason smirked at her, knowing it was going to eat her alive not knowing yes im projecting how nosy i am onto the y/n "Sorry princess, that stays a secret"

Was all we needed

You drew stars around my scars

"Jason, it's just an old scar from scraping my knee a little too deep, it's no big deal!"

He continued drawing small stars around any scars he found on her, gently dragging the red marker along her skin. "I didn't say it was!"

But now I'm bleedin'

When Jason hadn’t come back, Y/N had done one of the only things she promised him she would never do: taking up vigilantism. She told Bruce it was only temporary. She told herself it was only temporary. But the longer she was in the game the more attached to it she became.

"FUCK!" Y/N yelped as she sat on her bathroom counter, pressing a damp rag to her wound, carefully wiping it off. "God dammit, I used to be patching up Jason's stab wounds, not getting stabbed..." She picked up her phone, dialing the only number she cared to call anymore.

"Yeah, Dick? Can you come over real quick? Need you to make sure this stab wound doesn't kill me..."

The audible "WHAT" echoed throughout the bathroom, despite the phone not being on speaker.

'Cause I knew you

"How'd you know I'd be here?"

Y/N found Jason at their spot on the roof of the library after Dick informed her that he'd had a particularly rough argument with Bruce.

"Because I know you better than anyone else."

Steppin' on the last train

Jason dragged Y/N towards the last train of the night, what they never knew would be their final date before everything went astray.

"Come on! The last train is the best one!"

Marked me like a bloodstain, I

The image of Jason, dead, being carried away by Bruce was forever marked in Y/N's head. He was dead. There was nothing else to say.

I knew you

Speaking at Jason's small memorial was never something Y/N saw herself doing.

"I uh- I really don't know what to say. You all always said I knew him better than anyone else, and I just wish I could've known the way to prevent this."

Tried to change the ending

Y/N tried so hard to change the ending of her story. Make it so she wasn't just the girl who lost herself in grief. But until unless she saw Jason again, nothing was going to happen.

Peter losing Wendy, I

As she sat there writing 'Cardigan' it occurred to her that Peter losing Wendy was a choice, and her losing Jason never was, but it fit. Their love was a magic only to be found in Neverland.

I knew you

"Hey Red, do I know you from somewhere in civilian life? You seem familiar..."

"No way, too new in town, sorry."

She knew she knew him. She just couldn't place why...

Leavin' like a father

Even though she'd told him just to go, Jason still stopped by Y/N's house before he left to find his mother.

"Please don't leave me, Jay." She cupped his cheeks, pressing his forehead to hers as tears streamed down her face

"Don't cry, baby, I'll be back before you know it."

Running like water, I

Of course, Y/N hadn't known the identity of the Red Hood the first time she'd spotted him. All she had time to think was wondering why such a large man, with guns nonetheless, ran from her like she was out to get him.

And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

"Why do people love to assume that because I'm young I must know nothing about love or heartbreak?" Y/N had asked one day. No one answered. No one knew. They only knew that they were all too aware of just how much she truly knew about both of those things.

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

"I want a blue jay on my forearm. Full color. Can you do that?"

Y/N had walked into the tattoo parlor like she owned the place. She needed a way to let him permanently linger. The kiss of a needle in her skin the only way to physically represent him.

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

"What if I had made him stay?!"

"Y/N there's nothing you could've done that would change things."

"But what if—"

"There was nothing any of us could do."

The smell of smoke would hang around this long

"Thought you told me that you quit smoking years ago Red."

"Yeah, well, old habits die hard."

"Rough day huh?"

"Yeah. Girlfriend from before all this almost saw me in the library today. She doesn't know about me."

"About you being a vigilante?"

"She thinks I'm dead."

"You know, maybe I'll do this and be totally mistaken and realize i'm delusional, but I swear to whatever fucking god is listening if i tear off that domino mask and Jason Todd is under there I will be pushing you off this rooftop."

"If I've been hanging out with Y/N this whole time I'm throwing myself off."

'Cause I knew everything when I was young

Y/N was playing a show in Los Angeles, touring at age 15 was insane, but then again, she never thought anyone would listen to her music.

"Alright everyone, I may be young, but I also consider myself to be quite versed in romance, who knows, maybe it's my lovely boyfriend, or the fact that I'm a hopeless romantic, but either way, this one's called Favorite Record!"

Even at a young age, she'd known everything she needed to about love, because it encased her every moment she spent with her favorite person.

I knew I'd curse you for the longest time

She sat at Jason's grave in the Wayne family plot for more hours than she could count, swearing at his headstone

"God dammit! Why didn't you come home? Why didn't you come back to me?" Sobs wracked her body. "I was waiting for you to come home."

Chasin' shadows in the grocery line

Every once in a while Y/N would see someone and think someone was him. Maybe it was her brain's sick way of coping. She reached towards the stranger in front of her.

"Excuse me-"

But when he turned around Jason was gone. It was just another high school boy who had vaguely reminiscent hair.

I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired

A knock came on Y/N's bedroom window. She opened it warily before the Red Hood came clinking in.

"Thrill of letting me think you were dead over?"

"Y/N please-"

"Did you sit and watch as I grieved? Stand by while I lost my mind because I thought I'd lost you?"

"Sweetheart, just let me explain–"

"Don't fucking 'sweetheart' me. Get out. Get out of my fucking room."

And you'd be standin' in my front porch light

"Get off my damn porch Jason." He was standing in civilian clothes, shuffling his feet nervously as if he was a little kid again.

"Not until you let me explain!"

"Fine. You get to come in for five minutes. See if you can explain to me how there is any way you can justify this."

And I knew you'd come back to me

Y/N sat with her jaw slack in shock after hearing Jason's story. How saying he died wasn't even a lie, how he'd been brought back, the madness he'd experienced, the resentment for nobody killing the Joker. (she flat out told him she would've if she thought she could do it without getting herself killed in the process)

"i'm such a fucking asshole."

"No you aren't"

"No you went through this whole traumatic experience and I've just been a dick to you!"

"And it's been totally justified! You should've been the first person to find out I was back. Honestly I'm surprised Dick or Bruce didn't tell you..."

"I'm going to ignore the urge to castrate both of them and just be happy you came back to me."

You'd come back to me

"I'll always come back to you."

And you'd come back to me

"Make sure you come back in one piece?" They were on the same mission, much to Jason's dismay, but they had to be split up.

"When have I ever not come back to you?"

"...."

"Don't answer that."

And you'd come back

They'd made it out of that atrocious mission. It all worked out in the end but it certainly had taken longer than they planned.

"hey, you came back in one piece, just like I asked."

"I always do, just for you."

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

Y/N heard Jason coming in. His duffel bag clunked loudly against their closet floor, and she assumed he changed out of his gear at a safehouse before returning to their apartment. She flipped over the edge of the blanket, making room for him to crawl in bed with her. Once sufficiently comfortable behind her, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, Jason spoke.

"Hey Y/N?"

She turned around in his arms so she could face him. "Uh oh, you didn't call me any kind of pet name, just my name, whats up?"

"Nothing I just... I just wanted to let you know you're still my favorite."

~

The tears were flowing freely by then. The audience screamed, cheering at the sweet song. “My favorite person didn’t get to be around for a while, but… he came back to me, and that’s all that matters. Now that's enough crying, I’ve got some much more fun songs, ARE YOU READY GOTHAM CITY!?” And with that, the show went on.

Hours later, Y/N made her way backstage, where she was immediately enveloped by the arms of a mystery man. She wasn’t scared though, she knew who it was. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he spun her around. 

He sat her down gently, beaming. “You wrote a song about me?” “Jay… baby a lot of my songs are about you.” 

“What?”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you managed to not know that even though I’ve told you before.”

“I just assumed you weren’t serious!”

“... You really think that Lover or Lucky People or Favorite Record, could have possibly been about anyone else?”

“And if I just like hearing you say it?”

“Then I’ll tell you forever.” When their lips met, it was a promise, one that this, this feeling in this moment, was real, and that it wouldn’t ever go away, because they knew everything when they were young. 

[fiftyfiftyfinchy]

Static - Arthur Hill Fic

The café smelled like freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries, a comforting hum of conversation filling the air as Lily scrolled through the latest updates on her phone. Her manager’s emails were a minefield of deadlines and pitches, but Lily’s mind was firmly locked on the notebook in front of her. Scribbled lines of lyrics and scratched-out melodies littered the pages, proof of another restless night chasing inspiration.

She leaned back, letting her eyes drift to the bustling London street outside. It was one of those rare sunny mornings, and the city seemed to sparkle with possibility. Lily’s career was steady—producing tracks for up-and-coming artists while working on her own songs in the background. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills and kept her dream alive. Yet somehow, life felt...static. Too many hours in studios, not enough in the real world.

The little bell over the door jingled, and Lily glanced up out of habit. That’s when she saw him.

Arthur Hill.

The Arthur Hill. Indie music’s rising star, known for his soulful voice and lyrics that hit you right in the chest. He wasn’t a household name yet, but he had a dedicated following and a buzz that promised bigger things. He was hard to miss with his brown hair falling just so and an effortlessly stylish coat that made him look like he’d stepped out of a magazine spread.

Lily blinked, her mind racing through the improbability of it all. What was he doing here? This wasn’t the kind of discreet hideaway you’d expect a budding star to frequent. He ordered his coffee, his voice warm and melodic even in casual conversation, and Lily tried to remind herself to breathe.

To her horror, he turned in her direction, scanning the café as though looking for somewhere to sit. His gaze landed on her, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met. Lily’s stomach flipped. Then he smiled—a soft, genuine smile—and started walking toward her table.

“Excuse me,” he said, his accent wrapping around the words like a charm. “Would you mind if I joined you? Every other table’s taken.”

Lily’s brain short-circuited. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Arthur slid into the seat across from her, setting down his cup. “Bit of a madhouse in here, isn’t it?”

“It’s usually quieter,” Lily managed, cursing the slight quiver in her voice. “I guess everyone had the same idea today.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and disarming. “Lucky me, then.”

Lily’s cheeks heated, and she quickly dropped her gaze to her notebook, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But Arthur’s eyes followed the motion, and his brows lifted in interest.

“Songwriter?” he asked, nodding toward the pages.

“Yeah,” Lily said cautiously. She wasn’t about to start name-dropping her resume. “And producer.”

Arthur’s grin widened. “No kidding? That’s brilliant. You don’t meet many people who do both.”

“Thanks.” She couldn’t help but smile back. He seemed genuinely interested, not like he was fishing for an ego boost or making polite small talk.

“What kind of stuff do you work on?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his attention fully on her.

“All sorts, really,” Lily said, finding it surprisingly easy to talk to him. “Pop, indie, some experimental stuff. I like blending genres.”

“Sounds like my kind of vibe,” Arthur said. “You’ll have to play me something sometime.”

Lily’s heart skipped. “I’ll think about it.”

They talked for what felt like minutes but must have been longer. Arthur had an easy charm, the kind that made you forget the world around you. By the time they realized they’d finished their drinks, the café had quieted down considerably.

“Well,” Arthur said, standing and shrugging on his coat, “it was a pleasure meeting you, Lily.”

“You too,” she said, almost regretting that their encounter was ending.

But then Arthur paused, his hand halfway to his pocket. “You know, some friends of mine are meeting up later for drinks. You should come. It’d be nice to keep chatting—music’s always more fun to talk about over a pint.”

Lily hesitated. Was this a casual invite or something more? Either way, the idea of spending more time with him—and maybe meeting the people who inspired his music—was too intriguing to pass up.

“Alright,” she said finally. “Where?”

Arthur’s smile was dazzling. He pulled a napkin from the table and scribbled down the name of a pub. “Eight o’clock. See you there?”

“See you there,” Lily echoed.

As he walked out, Lily stared at the napkin in her hand, the realization sinking in. She’d just agreed to drinks with Arthur Hill and his friends. Whatever static she’d felt in her life, it seemed ready to shift.

-

I am quite tempted to keep writing this...let me know if you think I should xx

[e-dubbc11]

Thank You for 400!!

Celebration Anyone?

Pic isn’t mine. Found it on Pinterest.

Greetings lovelies from my little blog!

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who follows me, comments and reblogs my fics, throws a ♥️ at anything I post/write or sends a tag game my way.

To my pocket friends that I chat with on the regular and sometimes not so regular, you always bring a smile to my face when I see your messages.

I know interaction has been down here in the Tumblr-verse lately but I’ve decided to do a celebration anyway. I hope you’ll come say hello and drop something in my inbox ♥️

I don’t really have a name or a theme for this celebration so I’ll just say thank you again and the rules will be under the cut.

This isn’t limited to my followers, although I would love it if you did.

My two muses I write for are Matt Murdock and Billy Russo, although there are a few characters that I wouldn’t mind trying to write for ( Dean Winchester, Donald Pierce, Quinn McKenna, Brock Rumlow, but I’m really scared to. Maybe I just need a nudge 🤣

Send in as many as you’d like

Fuck, Marry, Kiss (or Kill if you wanna make it interesting) I’ll do characters from the following��

MCU

Supernatural

Netflix Series ( DD, Punisher, Defenders)

Boyd Holbrook characters

Ben Barnes characters

Fall Activity Moodboard 🍁🍂🎃👻🍺

It’s getting to be my favorite time of the year in my neck of the woods. I love everything about autumn. This one is for mutuals only OR if you have ever reblogged and commented on any of my fics.

Send in any character with a fall activity (apple picking, Halloween related, cider tasting, etc.) and I’ll make a moodboard for you

Song Lyric Prompt

Full disclosure, I am not a new music girl. I probably stopped listening to newer music around 10 years ago. But I love anything from the 80’s thru early 2010’s. (I love older music too from the 60’s and 70’s)

Send me a character and a song lyric (from those time periods) and I’ll see what it inspires me to write

Miscellaneous

Send me a character plus a fluffy or smexy gif and I can try to write a drabble/fic based off of that gif

Pick a scene from a fic of mine and I’ll write it from the other person’s POV.

Prompt Lists

I’ll leave some prompt/dialogue lists below and if something strikes your fancy, send it on over with one of my muses (or challenge me with a new one from the above list) and I’ll see what I can do with it. Or if you have one in mind not on these lists, that’s absolutely fine also.

Confessions of Feelings

Kiss Prompts

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue/Prompts

Random Dialogue Prompts

Autumn/Fall Dialogue/Scenarios

I’ll keep this open until September 16 CLOSED

Again, thank you all for following me, for commenting on my fics, just all of the things! Nothing goes unnoticed, I promise you ♥️ Everyone’s support means a lot to me and I hope you continue to like the content I put out. ♥️

Tagging some of my lovelies that always cheer me on and hug me from afar whenever I need it, thank you again!

@mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @munsonownsmyass @ilovewhiteroses @ruflirtingwithme @russosafehaven @qu1etwolf @kayhi808 @k-marzolf @wheresthesunshinesblog @danzer8705 @snowkestrel @fictional-hooman @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @mattmurdocksscars @theradioactivespidergwen @skvatnavle @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @music-indie-tv @idaofinfinity @vaguekayla @pedrito-friskito @wint3r-h3art @freshabogados @gijos @nutmeg17 @jvanilly

[meringuecream7]

A Lovable Hummingbird in 100 Years || Chapter 10: The Day Brenda Went Away

Seven years later, Susie became George and Brenda’s most honorary and kind daughter. She was taught many things (like how to be kind to people, how to make friends, etc.), and she learned them by memory.

  Monday is the day that Brenda needs to dance all over the world. That was her biggest dream of all when she was a kid (that she told about to George and Poppy). She swiftly put her black top hat on her head and applied her lipstick.

  “Now I must be going,” she said to her husband as she grabbed his shirt. “Goodbye, honey.”

  “See you soon, darling,” said George. “I’ll let you know when you want something.”

  Brenda smiled and pressed her lips at George’s cheek and then removed them. She opens the door and shuts it behind her. George then feels his cheek and checks his hand to see a red lipstick stain. His wife had left a lipstick mark on his cheek!

  Darling, you don’t have to do that, he wanted to say to his wife, blushing deeply and smiling goofily.

  “Daddy!” George heard Susie say upstairs. “I need help with something.”

  George rolled his eyes with a smirk. What could possibly go wrong? he asked himself.

  He wiped the lipstick stain from his cheek and went upstairs to Susie’s room. “So,” he began, “what do you need? I’m here for you.”

  “Well, I finished my homework yesterday,” replied Susie, donning a white button-up with a dark gray skirt and black Mary Janes. “But now, I really need you to help me with packing my bag. It’s my first day of school.”

  George nodded and packed Susie’s stationery into her bag. He sees something off about his daughter: her hair bow isn’t straight. He adjusts it so that it is evenly straight.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” Susie smiled and hugged him. “I’ll get an apple before I can go to school. I’ll see you later!”

  With that, she rode out of her room and downstairs to get an apple and leave. George sighed and sat down on the floor.

  Is Brenda really coming back after performing lots of shows? he wanted to ask.

  Then, he saw the mailbox full. Looks like the mail is here, he thought to himself.

He went outside to check the letters. But there is a unique one: a letter from his sister! George opened the envelope and began to read. The letter read:

‘Dear George, I had a lot of fun at the Aviary Jazz Club! It was like a party in here! First, a woman named Julie Fiedler introduced me to her brother, Eric, who is a bassist. And the most all glory owner, like we had met before since we were children, Johnathan Aviary himself! I cannot wait to join them; please give me a call so that I can wink at you back! - Yours Truly, Poppy’

George hugged the letter and folded it in half. Then he sashed it in his vest pocket. She never lets me down! he would exclaim in joy.

He went back to his house and shut the door behind him. He then grabs a piece of paper and begins to write to his sister.

‘Dear Poppy,’ he wrote.

Then he stopped. Nah, he thought as he crumpled a piece of paper and put it in the trash can. I’m not supposed to write her a letter. I’m supposed to write a song! For them.

With that, he grabbed another piece of paper and his guitar and strummed some notes. Jazzy notes. Then, I jotted them down on a piece of paper.

Poppy is great at lyrics, he told himself. I’m a sucker for writing them like I cannot know ‘em, but let's go on.

He began writing down the lyrics. ‘Welcome to the Aviary Jazz Club, listen to the music glide along. We got cocktails, dancing, and most especially, our upbeat and jazzy songs.’

Mr. Amanzi, I just gotta say, you do have a knack for writing songs and rhyming each word, George complimented himself. Especially rhyming ‘time’ with ‘mind’. You can or cannot.

He heard the door open. It was his daughter Susie. She shut the door behind her and removed the bag away from her.

“How was school, honey?” asked George.

“It was wonderful, Daddy!” Susie replied excitedly. “First, I made some new friends, learned something new, and tasted the best school lunch ever!”

"I'm happy to hear that," George smiled.

He then heard Susie yawn. “I’m getting tired,” she mumbled groggily as she rubbed her eye.

George looked out the window. The moon is rising up. It’s almost past her bedtime, he told himself. And mine, too!

“Come on up, Susie,” George beckoned his daughter as they went upstairs. “It’s eight o’clock. You don’t wanna stay up late.”

George turned on the warm water in the bathtub and put Susie in. Susie waded a little bit in the bathtub, scooped up some water, and poured it on her hair. Then, she turned to her father.

"Daddy?" she began as she grabbed the soap and washed it all over her body. "What did you do when Momma and I left?"

“Oh, well,” George replied. “I kind of write some songs. Old and new. But I revise them to make sure it doesn't sound... horrible.”

“That’s new!” said Susie as she grabbed the shampoo and spread it on her hair. “I wanna listen to your songs whenever Momma is away.”

George nodded and moved his eyes to the floor. I can never say no to a child, he thought to himself.

When bath time is over, Susie puts on her pajamas, brushes her teeth, and goes straight to her bed. She squirmed her way on the mattress and hugged her stuffed rabbit.

“Daddy?” she asked as her father tucked her in with the blanket. “Will BunBun be here for me? Always and forever?”

“Always and forever,” George chuckled as he reached for the lamp and pulled on the chain. Then he kissed his daughter on her cheek. “Goodnight, Susie.”

“Goodnight, Daddy,” whispered Susie.

George chuckled and closed the door. Then, it was his turn to go to sleep. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, changed into his pajamas, and went to bed.

Tomorrow’s a good day to write a letter to Brenda, he thought as he shut his eyes tight and slept.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

[caltropspress]

RAPS + CRAFTS #15: Duncecap

1. Introduce yourself. Past projects? Current projects?

Hey, I’m Duncecap. I've been writing and producing hip hop music since I was 15. I've also been shooting and editing videos since I was a kid.

You may have heard some of my projects released via Backwoodz Studioz (miserable then, Go Climb a Tree). You may also know me from crazy performances in NYC with the group we are the karma kids. Some of my albums from that time are Human Error and Rapping is for Idiots. 

In terms of upcoming music - exciting new stuff is coming! One forthcoming album is chiefly self-produced, one of them produced entirely by Steel Tipped Dove.

Also I have a “secret” side project - experimental ambient music under the name Depression Naps. That will probably come out this year. I need to figure the release out ASAP though.

2. Where do you write? Do you have a routine time you write? Do you discipline yourself, or just let the words come when they will? Do you typically write on a daily basis?

I usually write on the move; I’m listening to music, I have thoughts, and need something to do - it goes together perfectly. I write on walks, taking the subway, in a car. Physically moving is definitely not a rule though. I also write while procrastinating at home on the couch, or sitting with a coffee outside, in a diner is fun, etc. 

No routine time per se - I’m ready to write on a moment's notice and usually do it that way randomly throughout the day, every day.

3. What’s your medium—pen and paper, laptop, on your phone? Or do you compose a verse in your head and keep it there until it’s time to record?

I used to write in a pocket-sized notebook all the time. Writing on paper really sets some immediate boundaries with space and even the speed which you can physically write. Lyrics get crossed out then circled or rewritten and crossed out again. Sometimes you can’t read what you wrote.

Now I write on my phone. It’s faster, more legible, and with infinite space - but it’s easier to get carried away with overwriting. I’ll drop anything to write an idea down. I’m somewhat of a compulsive idea hoarder, I don’t want to let a good idea pass. 

I would love to be able to be the type of person that could fully write songs in my head but I got a lot of other things going on in there too and I get distracted easily. Freestyling is fun but I’m gonna need to write down anything I want to remember.

4. Do you write in bars, or is it more disorganized than that?

For most of my life I would write bars in long sentences, but in the past couple years I’ve noticed I’ve been breaking up my lines into halves or down to single words rather than bars. I call it my 'poetic style' on account of how it looks on the page but also how my delivery changes when I write this way. It helps me get more granular conceptually and with the rhymes too. I enjoy the end result and my voicing in that style. Projects I’ve written in this way are Genuinely Sad Songs and miserable then and the new stuff. 

Writing can get pretty disorganized regardless of medium too, but I try to run a tight ship. Disorganized writing in a digital space might look like several versions of the same lyrics doc or alternative lyrics in the same space as the original one.

5. How long into writing a verse or a song do you know it’s not working out the way you had in mind? Do you trash the material forever, or do you keep the discarded material to be reworked later?

Depends on the strength of the original writing, the context, and how much time I want to spend editing it. 

Sometimes it’s 4 bars in or less I might know. Sometimes, there’s one line in an otherwise great verse that I’m unsure about and everything past that one line feels off. Sometimes I write a whole verse and return to it thinking, “Maybe this isn’t the angle.”

Digitally, I never throw anything away. At this point I’ve embraced it, although it does weigh me down a little bit. I would love to cull the “good stuff” and start fresh in my notes app, but at this point it might take longer than it’s worth. 

Occasionally, a verse gets lost in the ether or I cut a song and I can reuse the verse elsewhere or break it down for parts. Most of the time what I write is tailored to a special concept or nuanced emotional expression. It gets tricky to go back and plug old writing into those pieces and I tend to start over in that case.

That isn’t to say that I don’t find old verses I can match up to new songs - but it doesn’t always feel good. It shouldn’t matter honestly, but something in me says: start fresh.

Though looking through searchable results in my notes app can jog my brain and get the gears turning - it’s like a mood board but with elements I created.

6. Have you engaged with any other type of writing, whether presently or in the past? Fiction? Poetry? Playwriting? If so, how has that mode influenced your songwriting?

Poetry - yes. It very much influences it. This is where my writing started as a pre-teen and I still write poetry and infuse it into my music. 

Screenwriting - yes (I want to write more scripts). 

Fiction - as a child I did write stories pretty frequently and had a bunch of little one page stories with cover art and stuff. The last long form narrative prose I wrote was a kind of memoir in college while locked out of my dorm. I wrote it all on a Blackberry phone. 

I journal too when things are rough and want to reexamine something I know I will want to reflect on in my life. A lot of times in the moment I’m experiencing it, most likely in a way to detach. 

I’m trying to think how these different mediums might specifically affect my songwriting. Poetry and journaling, for sure. The only thing I can think about for screenwriting is sometimes I will write dialogue in my songs but I don’t really clarify it as such. It’s more like internal dialogue. Sometimes I dub or adlib those lines if it’s crucial to communicate that it's another character besides mine in a song. Those moments of pseudo dialogue reminds me of the flow you can enter when writing a scene in screenwriting software - so maybe that's the link.

7. How much editing do you do after initially writing a verse/song? Do you labor over verses, working on them over a long period of time, or do you start and finish a piece in a quick burst?

For me, it matters the song I’m writing. 

Sometimes I will write a verse about literally where I’m writing or I will write a song as a way to work myself through an emotional event. These kinds of writings I try to preserve for the integrity of that moment in time and where I was physically and/or emotionally. 

For more pre-conceived and intentional concepts I will painstakingly edit them until they feel right. “Did I structure this in the most elegant way possible?” “Am I communicating the concept clearly and cleverly?” Etc. 

Those same kinds of quality controlling conditions happen regardless of how I’m writing, but there’s a bit more forgiveness in favor of earnestness when I get more personal on tracks.

8. Do you write to a beat, or do you adjust and tweak lyrics to fit a beat?

Both, it depends on the situation and how I’m feeling. 

A lot of stuff on miserable then was written as poetry first and then fit to beats. Same goes for the Genuinely Sad Songs EP. I would also record freestyles to those beats and then decode the nonsense lyrics and tones or use the rhyme patterns I established.

Most other times I would say that I write to the beat while taking some breaks listening so it doesn’t get too repetitive.

9. What dictates the direction of your lyrics? Are you led by an idea or topic you have in mind beforehand? Is it stream-of-consciousness? Is what you come up with determined by the constraint of the rhymes?

Many times I write to sort myself out, so it’s stream of consciousness while I’m overanalyzing the very stream of consciousness I’m writing. This is where I get more introspective on songs. I’ll be led by trying to find an “answer” to what I’m feeling while making it structured and rhyme.

Sometimes I look around the notes app for thought starters and when navigating that labyrinth I’ll be reminded of concepts I meant to write about later. I'll match up themes to new production to see if I can make my life a little easier if a theme or lyric doesn’t come to mind inherently for a song. This ends up being very satisfying since the piece ends up being planned out a bit more but with minimal effort. 

Rhyming does force some rules on your writing but you get used to navigating that. I wouldn’t say that rhyming would constrain a song from being made but it does make creating a song more of a puzzle - which is a lot of the fun.

10. Do you like to experiment with different forms and rhyme schemes, or do you keep your bars free and flexible?

I like to experiment with rhyming. I get bored with keeping the same rhyme scheme for a whole verse while other times it’s the thing that drives me. When you have the same scheme for a whole verse you get to play with the audience's expectations. If you're rhyming and the person you're with finishes the line for you - for me, it can be a sign that you're too predictable of a rhymer.  But if you want to be optimistic, you can see that as a sign that you are a good songwriter. It really depends on what you are trying to accomplish at the time.

Sometimes rhyming doesn’t cross my mind at all and other times I’m trying to rhyme each word in a sentence to its parallel word in the subsequent line. Other times my lyrics are more melody driven and that takes a burden off of rhyme all together, or at least modifies expectation.  

I have always been fascinated by rhyme and its predictability. I love hearing wild tongue twisters that I still can’t guess the ending rhymes for. Rhyming is such a unique tool that you can subvert expectations very easily with. I find myself using an A B A B rhyme pattern pretty frequently. It’s a nice way to balance the “shock value” of non-rhyming but also getting rewarded with a rhyme. It’s also a good fall back if you are freestyling and forget to rhyme.

11. What’s a verse you’re particularly proud of, one where you met the vision for what you desire to do with your lyrics?

Here’s a couple songs where the concepts were pre-determined and I’m proud of how the final product met that initial vision:

“Under the Hood” (feat. Fielded) || Go Climb a Tree 

I had the title and knew I wanted to write about how things in life are many times antagonistically assembled or precariously produced - and then presented as clean, polished or well-thought out products. And how fragile it all is even after it’s released. 

“Well oiled machine in the shippiest shape, / One domino is all the difference it takes.” 

“Definitely” (feat. E L U C I D & Quelle Chris) || Rapping is for Idiots

I asked them to write as busy/unreachable rappers and I was supposed to be the desperate collaborator. Everybody nailed it and the video came out great as well. It’s extra gratifying to piece together a concept track with multiple folks on a record. 

In terms of one verse to point to -  there’s this verse I’m especially proud of from this upcoming Dove album. It hits hard but is also very on-point conceptually. It’s an example of one of those titles or concepts I’ve had floating around in my notes app for years and then it finally fell into place when I heard the right beat at the right time. The song is about the over-abundance of, well, everything and how overwhelming life can be in the current zeitgeist.

12. Can you pick a favorite bar of yours and describe the genesis of it?

I always used to have this question answered but the answer would change every year or so when I wrote a new project. I use writing as a means of self-discovery and the growth is never over. I don't think it'll ever be easy for me to settle on a favorite lyric because as soon as one is out of my system, I potentially don't relate to it anymore if it’s married to a specific emotional incident. Instead I go, “Oh, yeah I did a good job explaining how I felt at the time,” but it doesn’t feel as electric anymore to me in the present.

Despite that, I’ll answer the question. Here are some old standouts, I wouldn’t say I have a favorite though:

“Being self aware is not the same as trying to do something [about it]” (Bad Breath [’Toid Up])

The genesis being to have a way to remind myself and others that just because you know you are a little fucked up doesn’t mean you are actually being productive or healthy about it. Worst-case scenario it’s a negligible position to be enabling yourself but with a false sense of security.

The song “Rocks in Your Shoes” is mostly a free-write but has bars I’m proud of that satisfy both an introspective/punchy appetite:

“I talk like a parrot with a TV in the room”

“I like the way my mouth dances when I spit a tune, / My bars are choreography for my lips to move”

I dunno!

13. Do you feel strongly one way or another about punch-ins? Will you whittle a bar down in order to account for breath control, or are you comfortable punching-in so you don’t have to sacrifice any words?

Do I whittle a bar down for breath control? Yes. That usually comes in the initial writing phase but doesn’t stop there.

A lot of people, including myself, will practice their flows under their breath if they are in public or a room full of people. It’s a little odd to go full volume in those situations. Personally, I’ve found that practicing quietly like that can be misleading when it comes time to record.

Recording a demo is important. Most of the time I will face the reality of my breath control in these recordings then listen back and whittle down some more or change phrasings. Or I learn I hate a lyric the instant I’m forced to say it out loud or in front of people. The actual recording after the demo is always much more confident and polished. I either try to demo first or perform it live first before I record. Sometimes you write the verse and immediately record and land the first take, punching those always feels sacrilegious but you gotta do what you gotta do. 

I usually try to deliver verses in one take when I record. In my head, if you are planning to perform your material live anyway, it makes sense to learn it as you will perform it live. 

That being said - sometimes stylistically you might want to punch a lot or the take was perfect except for one moment. I’m more than happy to punch in those instances. I used to be more stubborn about not punching-in but when you are working with other people’s time it doesn't always make sense to deliver things in one take but it’s usually very satisfying.

14. What non-hiphop material do you turn to for inspiration? What non-music has influenced your work recently?

Musically - ambient music! I have always listened to “relaxing music” since I was a kid because I have always had anxiety. As I’ve gotten older that expanded to more experimental music, noisy music. Field recordings and ambient tones have been very inspiring to me the past couple of years.

I've been working towards bridging the gap of my “beats” and sonic experimentations for a little while and will be releasing a new ambient project this year (2023). I also recently produced an EP for someone while practicing this same type of experimental production processes. 

Outside of music I would say film! I use a lot of filmmaking language in my writing because that's just how my brain works. It’s also a clinical way to describe things visually.  

Also, I’m inspired a lot from my surroundings and experiences. I try to pull songs from my life and the characters I see or interact with. You can turn anything into poetry and I try to.

15. Writers are often saddled with self-doubt. Do you struggle to like your own shit, or does it all sound dope to you?

Dude. Self-doubt all day. Imposter syndrome all day. “I suck.” etc. I usually briefly fall in love with whatever new music I’m making and then get more distant to it when I begin something new. Recently, I was head over heels with a new song, then a day later my certainty of its quality was subverted by my silly brain. 

As I get older I’m learning to appreciate my music more. I used to be the guy to delete music after publishing it but that isn’t sustainable nor fair to listeners.  Combating self-doubt will always be a journey.

16. Who’s a rapper you listen to with such a distinguishable style that you need to resist the urge to imitate them?

All of them? Sometimes I hear a beat and think of people I know that could potentially feature on the track with me - or even famous rappers - but then I decide to have no features on the song. In those cases I worry that I might sound like whoever I thought of initially. When that happens I share a demo with friends and it’s usually just in my head.

I’m not sure this has happened to you, but there’s those moments where you strike gold while writing and realize, “Oh…this is just [famous song]”. I’m paranoid of that happening. Sometimes I won’t listen to new projects immediately if I'm already in the middle of writing something - that way it doesn’t rub off on me subconsciously. 

Funny enough though, I think hip-hop is pretty forgiving of that kind of thing in the right context. So many artists pay tribute by flipping famous lines or flows and putting them in their own songs.You don't see nearly as many cover songs in the genre as in others but see more reworkings, references, and shout-outs. 

I mean if you are biting someone's style completely that’s a no-no, but I’m not concerned about that happening.

17. Do you have an agenda as an artist? Are there overarching concerns you want to communicate to the listener?

My goal is to be financially stable off of video and music alone. 

In terms of projects, collaborations, etc. - I will always want to work with talented people and especially ones that have vision or challenge me to think outside the box. Connecting with other artists will always be a big part of music for me. 

Content-wise, I want to keep experimenting but also take myself more seriously and write less about emotional/personal issues as my default. Mental health issues are important for me and listeners tell me my words have helped them. That’s why I still do write this way and partly why I started writing that way too. If any of my experiences and learnings can help people in the same spot it’s a win and very rewarding. It’s just as validating for me to hear people relate to my writing as I’m sure it might be for a listener to hear someone describe how they feel. 

I have always been an impulsive writer and I imagine that won’t change. I can say, though, that the more I work on myself the more my growth will reflect in my writing.

RAPS + CRAFTS is a series of questions posed to rappers about their craft and process. It is designed to give respect and credit to their engagement with the art of songwriting. The format is inspired, in part, by Rob McLennan’s 12 or 20 interview series.

Photo credit: P Squared

[yaldev]

Bruzek's Flags

Living in the Oracle’s consciousness came with certain inconveniences. Decadin had no sensory inputs but those shared by his host. His eyes were not closed, but removed—he could not see the darkness. Maybe the gods in here could handle it, but Decadin was only ever a man.

He distracted himself with what faculties were available. He recreated old songs and cursed when he forgot a lyric. He trawled his imagination and dug up an old idea of a Terminus office building, which he modeled in three dimensions and rotated at ludicrous speeds. When the entertainment value ran dry, he fixated on old memories. He handled crystal bugs, ate soup in a sunrise and argued with titans of industry and military, struck now by the wiser things he could have said. Most of all he replayed his first meeting with the Oracle, telling himself this was the most important memory to keep alive, as it came closest to explaining how he, or whatever was left to call “he,” was now here, whatever “here” could mean.

The Oracle could see it all. “Anything to never think of Lhusel,” she thought, and it intruded on Decadin’s mind.

Decadin shoved that thought away.

“You think so much of one broken friendship, and not the families slain in your Empire’s name.”

He was not getting away from this. “Why would you even ask that? You know that bothers me too, but they weren’t part of me and my story like Lhusel was. That’s just how humans work.”

“Want to see something? You’ll go mad if I don’t feed you.”

“I’ll take anything.”

“Perhaps you can make better sense of this than I,” she said, and she poured a vision into Decadin’s mind. His eyes faded back in, and his ears and nose and skin. He was a ghost at a ceremony.

Bruzek unraveled a scroll, read its magic nonsense aloud, and shoved it back in his pocket. “Test,” he said, and all could hear him as clear as if he were standing right before them.

Decadin tried to frown, but he had no mouth. “When was this? Or when will it be?”

“Now,” thought the Oracle, “but far away.”

Bruzek started talking, and the acolyte ignored what he said to focus on how he said it.

“He’s bad at this,” Decadin thought, “can’t imagine he wrote this himself, but he memorized it word for word.”

“You’re so sure,” the Oracle thought.

“Debate society kids like me did the same thing. If he hasn’t fixed it by now it’s because he hasn’t had to. You don’t need to say anything interesting in the military, you just stick to the script. What are those banners?”

“Battle flags, Bruzek’s own. Now that he’s High Commander, he can institute them—”

“He got to High Commander talking like that?!”

“Don’t be so harsh.” The Oracle smirked. “He’s just trying to copy you.”

“...never seen before,” droned Bruzek, “but the vision you have demonstrated in your studies and training has given your Empire confidence that you can face those threats and do what needs to be done.”

Decadin wished his ears would fade back out. “Getting millions killed? Is that how he copies me? You can mock my style but I was never this… generic.”

Bruzek was not worth Decadin’s attention. The acolyte turned his gaze to the audience, the commissioned commanders in shirts and ties. They looked more like desk workers than warriors. At least that was honest. There was no life in their eyes. Whatever the speech was trying to do, it…

Decadin’s attention went back. “Maybe genericism is the point.”

He felt the Oracle’s interest pique. “Go on.”

“Ideas aren’t the reason he leads, but it’s not about following a script either, because then the words would matter. No, this isn’t about what he says to them. The point is, he’s at the front and they have to listen. This is a graduation speech?”

He felt the Oracle nod.

“So this is what the Army is about now. What learning is about, if you’re Ascended.”

Bruzek’s tone changed. “Okay, I could go on another five pages or we could skip to the important part. You’re adults, your time is valuable, you get it. What do you say?”

Decadin saw consciousness return to the soldiers’ eyes. They answered with mild laughter here and there, but no objections.

“Alright! Ascended commanders, you have come this far!”

Violence shone in Bruzek’s eyes. His words pulled memories from the Oracle’s mind, and they polluted this vision. Illusory steelflakes descended on the scene.

“Your power is the Empire’s, and the Empire’s power is yours. What can stop you?”

“Nothing,” was their resounding answer. Lightning mines erupted all around.

“Tell me, in all you have learned: what is it to win?”

“It is love.”

Conversion cities assembled in the distance.

“And what is it to lose?”

“Growth.”

Suppression towers sprouted from the concrete.

“And what is it to reach?”

“Life.”

An Orb of Darkness loomed over them all.

“And what is it to relent?”

“DEATH.”

Decadin’s thoughts were racing. “So they knew this part. They had gut answers. He made the speech bad on purpose, because that was the Army, but the chant was Bruzek. He gave them a part in the script, and sidestepped the formalities to involve them.”

“The Army belongs to him,” the Oracle added, “he could change anything with an order.”

“But he doesn’t. He’s drawing a line between himself and the institution. He’s building a cult to himself, something separate. He’s planning something, what’s he planning?”

“Yes, you are right,” thought the Oracle, “thank you.”

Decadin’s eyes began to fade, and ears and nose and skin, as though the Orb of Darkness were consuming it all.

“Oracle, what’s he planning?” He asked again, but she had sectioned him off again, cast him back to his songs, buildings and obsessions. He pouted and thought of all those men, the true killers in all the Conquests, petty tyrants with computers and annual reviews, Bruzeks in the making. Decadin dreamed up a bomb that could’ve killed them all where they stood, and rotated it at ludicrous speeds.

———

Yaldev is a sci-fantasy worldbuilding project by Ulysses Maurer, with art by Beeple. By looking at narratives, stylized loredumps, bad poetry and little details, we'll witness the story of a planet filled with magical power, the nation which tried to conquer it, this empire’s dramatic collapse and the new world which emerged in its wake. Along the way we'll meet the characters who live here, and we'll explore questions about nationalism, rationalism, the natural world and the quest to master it. For all stories in chronological order, check out the pinned posts at r/Yaldev!

[themainspoon]

Get that fish outta here we need to finish the songs lyrics! (1:10 for the hysterically dogshit vocals):

Check it out

I'm in the house like carpet

And if there's too many heads in my blunt I won't spark it

I'll put it in my pocket and save it like rocket fuel

'Til everybody's gone and it's cool

Then I spark it up with my brother

His momma named him Mo, but I call him Mo' Lover

And he's more than a cover, he's a quilt

We're putting shit together like that house that John built

On the hill, 'cause this shit's gonna feel like velvet, turtle

My style fits tighter than a girdle

If ya hate it then you can just leavе it, like Beaver

But in a day or two I'll makе you a true believer in me

'Cause like the alphabet you'll see

That 'ism kicks a rhyme, not your everyday soliloquy

Like Chef Boyardee, my rhyme is truly cookin'

Peace to Matty Rich 'cause he's straight out of Brooklyn, New York

I don't eat pork or swine when I dine

I drink a cup of Kool-Aid, not a big glass of wine

Or a Henn', Heine', if you have time I'll drop rhyme again

Some fun facts because I love this shit:

Velvet Turtle was a real thing! It was a restaurant chain in the US that isn’t around anymore. And yet despite knowing that now, it still sounds like the word “turtle” was inserted to force a rhyme.

These vocals are from a sample pack, the original track as it appears on the disk is called Swiny House, to my knowledge because it’s from a sample CD we have no idea who the performer is. Below is the OG track that was sampled:

They actually made it even worse by changing one of the last lines from “Or a Heineken” to “or a Henn,Hein” this not only makes the lyric nonsensical, it also breaks the rhyming scheme. It was likely done to avoid possible legal trouble from the brand itself, but then that raises the question of why they didn’t need to do the same with “Kool-Aid” (Velvet Turtle may have already been defunct at this time).

[musicarenagh]

Super Saiyan Jay's New Single: What's Behind "Can I"? Today we had the chance of having a chat with Super Saiyan Jay, he is one artist who speaks apart from others; his songs are like poems with the smooth flows and inspiring lyrics. Super Saiyan Jay is a new artist and his newest single "Can I", shows us the space where he plays music and talks about his feelings. "Can I" isn't only a rap tune; it actually an artist's way of breaking free from the bounds of genres. The fast syllable-based style of Super Saiyan Jay with which he rhymes like the old legends brings vigor into the track and captivates listeners from the beginning to the end. Not only does the rap mode make “Can I” stand out, but also the fact that every minute detail of the song is taken care of. From the stunning beat of those synth and bell pads to the enchanting tune that you just simply cannot ignore, no element of this song is left ignored. The music journey by Super Saiyan Jay is like an evolving process of self discovery. He has been on a search for his sound and message since the times when he released the "Staying In" songs to now when he has come out with a new album.��"Can I" marks a mellow, laid-back beat with a dash of self-confidence that is absolutely refreshing. This helps the listeners move towards self-empowerment. So, what's the verdict on "Can I"? Well, it's a banger, plain and simple. Super Saiyan Jay has crafted a track that's equal parts chill and hype, with a vibe that's all his own. So, if you're looking for something fresh to add to your playlist, give "Can I" a spin. You won't be disappointed! Listen to Can I https://open.spotify.com/album/5e5CUn6z5aeWdlWJCSAVly Follow Super Saiyan Jay on Facebook Twitter Spotify Soundcloud Bandcamp Youtube Instagram What is your stage name My stage name is Super Saiyan Jay. Is there a story behind your name There's no specific story behind my rap name, but It's what I'm known for and what I'm rocking with. Where do you find inspiration I find inspiration from all forms within music. From the artist and the way they create, all the way down to the breakdown and structure of a beat. The science behind music gets really deep once you get into it. Are you from a musical or artistic family Music was instilled in me from my parents, to my grandparents at an early age. I can't think of a time when I wasn't involved with music. Absolutely. Everyone in my family has inspired me in many ways with their own musical influences. Who inspired you to be a part of the music industry I don't have a specific inspiration for who inspired me to be in the music industry. But the music I'm making feels right and it makes sense when I create. How did you learn to song/write/to play I just had a natural feel for writing my own music. As time goes by in life, you experience different things so that can spark plug the ideas that follow when it comes to writing music. What was the first concert you went to and who did you see perform The concert that I atleast remember going to first was a Snoop and Wiz concert back in 2016. The energy from those two legends was contagious and captivating. How would you describe your music My music is a variety of things. I'm inspired by the old school rap era. But I can fit into many different pockets of rap. If you like laid back and chill music, I can provide that. But if you want the bang your head and turn up to have a good time music, I for sure have that. Describe your creative process My process comes in many ways, I look for the beat and once my mind starts going I gotta write to it. I can write music for days. But I'm a firm believer of not forcing your pen. Let the music come naturally. What is your main inspiration My parents are my biggest inspiration, hard work doesn't come easy for no one. [caption id="attachment_54717" align="alignnone" width="2000"] My parents are my biggest inspiration,[/caption] What musician do you admire most and why I have too many inspirations from musicians. There are too many dope artists to choose just one.

Did your style evolve since the beginning of your career My style has grown a lot since the beginning. I've learned to not rush to release music when it gets finished. Focus and have a plan. Use preparation to the best of my ability to catapult my brand and music as a whole. Who do you see as your main competitor I'm my biggest competitor. I'm a huge perfectionist so if it's not to my liking, then I have to keep working on it until it's right. What are your interests outside of music I love to create cover art, make videos and edit. If you could change one thing in the music industry, what would it be I'd be behind the camera directing and producing. What is the biggest problem you have encountered in the journey of music? The biggest problem is finding a good reach to expand but that's all a part of the growth and the journey. If you could change one thing in the music industry, what would it be I'd change the way people got paid for making their music. The streaming doesn't make sense to the revenue that comes in return. https://open.spotify.com/artist/4ojdxqwTW9p8eNUCAyOsGy?si=RJP7fpL-TY2v_Wyh68EfhQ&dl_branch=1 Why did you choose this as the title of this project I choose the title because it makes the most sense. What are your plans for the coming months I have a lot of music coming out. I'm currently working on three projects at the moment. Do you have any artistic collaboration plans Most definitely, I got some music coming out with some real dope artists. What message would you like to give to your fans To my fans, thank you for rocking with me up until this point. I have a long way to go, so stay on this journey with me. I got a lot in store for y'all.

[existentialmagazine]

Review: Austin Willacy’s new EP ‘Gonna Be Alright’ channels feel-good pop, intimate reflections, gritty rock and soulful retreats

As a veteran member of The House Jacks, the emerging artist Austin Willacy has long proven he can sing, but with multiple worldwide tours and full-length albums in the back of his pocket as a group, Austin now looks to cement why he’s a star in his own right. Taking influence from greats that range from The Police to Maroon 5 to Taylor Swift, Austin isn’t just a powerhouse for modern music lovers, but his work equally resonates with those of all ages and walks of life.

With plenty albums already to his name, both independently and as a group, Austin now looks to truly hone his sound to perfection with a new record: ‘Gonna Be Alright.’ Embracing hope in the face of hardship, as well as themes of perseverance, dedication to dignity and the beauty of lessons learned through loss, this 5-track project covers from start to finish an authentic and deeply personal journey that’ll find itself healing many that choose to listen. Collaborating with Grammy-winning producer and songwriter Rich Jacques for the singles, it’s clear that the songs are not just thoughtful but intricately created to a tee.

The lead single ‘See You In The Light’ finds itself immediately to be one of the album favourites, connecting with anyone that’s lost someone as Austin sings an ode to a close childhood friend. With this upbeat but soft soundscape pushing through, Austin carries flavours of both appreciation and grief within the instrumental synth whirs, gentle guitar strums and steady beats, an almost timeless, coming-of-age type atmosphere that longs for what once was. Through the healing that comes with reflecting on the incredible elements of his friend Pete’s life, there’s an equal amount of wistful aches, seeking one more conversation or moment to share gratitude that he simply cannot have: ‘I know you’re not at home, but it helps me to remember, so I don’t feel alone.’ Through a drum loop and a chord progression that felt familiar, Austin and Rich found themselves penning a sound that’s just as warm as a good friend you haven’t seen for a while, driving ‘See You In The Light’ home for anyone seeking solace in their grief. The melody and lyrics lean instead towards retrospective reflection, with a positive, appreciative acknowledgement of who he was, how they grew up together, and how he’s still carried along with him to this day, all for the ears of a world that never got to know him and greatly missed out for it.

There’s much more to the 5 song EP ‘Gonna Be Alright’ though, championed just as much by its title single that looks to find healing in even the greatest of pains. Highlighting that often a person's experience in any kind of relationship is like an iceberg— only 10% visible above the water line — ‘Gonna Be Alright’ finds peace and acceptance on the other side of disconnection. Through easy-going piano keys and soulful vocals, the sound is just as thought-provoking and yet continual in its comforting presence, carrying intimacy through everything he does and never for a second making it weighty or too much to bear.

Other tracks like ‘Not Gonna Stop’ dive into harsher rock leans, driving in gritty electric guitar strums and charismatic vocals that completely shift from everything Austin has created to date. The catchy opening ‘No Apologies’ is on the other side of things a complete pop anthem, bright and feel-good. The final missing piece ‘Better Days To Come’ is just as distinct too, a gospel-like serenade that’ll send chills down your spine. Whether Austin’s music is right up your street or a world away from anything you’d usually hear, there’s something that just can’t help but connect you to everything he has to say - or sing.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[bexstevie]

“you think so?” stevie asks, tilting his head up curiously with a smile still tugging endlessly at the corners of his mouth. he’s not sure if he’d call them strong– wait, are they strong? maybe stevie should re-listen to them later. he can think back to some of the lyrics and melody, but his mind is a little blank on it. 

stevie’s brow furrows as he considers those songs. he likes ballads, but he isn’t as familiar with them as everything else. he does recognize the name of one– “yang da il? i think i know something by them.” it’s an artist he’s heard his mom utter once or twice. then he focuses on the name. “darling? oh, that sounds romantic. pretty fitting then!” the scene around them is romantic in theory. he thinks nothing of it. “you have so many options,” stevie says, a little awed. “i’m so bad with song titles. maybe? i’ll definitely check them out though. i’m always happy to find new artists. maybe you could make me a playlist,” his grin turns cheeky. 

he sniffles. a chill runs down his spine from the cold, and jindallae tugs him tighter, stevie melts into it. body heat and affection always something he would never turn away from. “my own personal furnace? wow, fancy.” he knocks his shoulder into the taller, though it doesn’t do much due to the proximity– only managing to push him slightly. 

stevie likes being happy. he’s bright and optimistic because it always feels better to do so. he likes being the mood maker and trying to keep the vibe and attitude up— he also thinks he’s pretty good at it. “i’d also be so upset if you went without me.” stevie confesses, a pout crossing his face at the mere thought of it. “that’s like…sacrilegious or something.” not that he thinks jindallae would. 

stevie grins at hearing jindallae likes hanging out with him. then he continues on and for a moment— stevie doesn’t process what he’s hearing. i think  you’re really fuckin’ cute too. the compliment makes him smile, pleased as a shy laugh leaves him. his cheeks turn even redder. he meets jindallae’s eyes briefly and ducks away. “i am pretty cute,” he agrees. cute and silly, adorable and dumb, stevie is a lot of things.

but he isn’t all knowing. he’s also oblivious, most of the time— so he certainly doesn’t see jindallaes next set of words coming. and it takes him several moments, seconds pass by, and his mouth is already moving to form the words, yeah, sure! before his brain catches up. proper date. wait, what?

“huh?” stevie asks, blinking rapidly as his head swivels to stare up at jindallae. surprise etches over his features, and if his cheeks weren’t red before, they’re certainly turning it now. “a proper– wooing? me?” his voice sounds incredulous, as if he can’t really believe it. though if he thinks about it, everything leading up to this point– it makes sense. pieces falling into place in his brain far too late. 

embarrassingly enough, stevie hasn’t been asked out on many dates. well– this direct, at least. usually it’s plans to hang out that if he used context clues would shout this is a date!!! at him in big bold letters. always paired with him showing up and completely missing the vibe– and ending up confused when the person ghosts him and stops answering his texts. 

needless to say, he’s a bit floored. certainly flattered– because he hadn’t expected that jindallae of all people was interested in him. stevie likes to say he himself is cool, but jindallae’s vibe is far more like that than his. compared to the taller, stevie’s just kinda…y'know, stevie. “like…for real?” for the first time, there’s uncertainly in his tone. stevie doesn’t move away from the other, but he stares up at him, confusion coloring his features– but he doesn’t look displeased by the idea. “not that i’m not like, flattered or anything! i just wasn’t really..uh, expecting it? haha…” his voice trails off nervously, free hand leaving the warm clutches of his pocket to fiddle with his earring nervously. “i don’t think i’ve ever been wooed before.”

his heartstrings are repeatedly being tugged on, as if he's the stallion hauling a chariot, and stevie is the one guiding him through the park. he feels out of control, and it perturbs him, but jindallae's doing his best to remain composed. in truth, he has no idea how someone can be, and feel, so innocent—so pure of heart, so full of sunbeams and rainbow hues, as if he's the human embodiment of a prism, refracting his chromatic beams upon every person he encounters.

a big part of jindallae feels like being greedy, like he wants to scoop stevie up and keep his illuminating adorability all to himself, even though jin knows that expressing that right in this moment would make him look completely insane. he's doing his best to behave, especially since the vibe that swathes them is much too good to eradicate with hasty comments and rose-coded aggression.

instead, he chooses to sit back and continue letting his cohort take the wheel; even if it makes him minimally uncomfortable.

the discomfort he feels is amplified, yet again, when stevie tells him the songs he's thinking of; the ones that capture the moment. both tracks lean romantic in tone, even if their lyrical content differs. his cheeks are still ticked pink with the blush from earlier, and it deepens now, but if he's got caught, he's decided that he'll blame the frigid chill in the air. "mmm," he hums in approval, nodding his head.

"those are some pretty strong choices, i'll give you that." pausing, he scans his brain for music that he thinks would capture the energy they're exchanging right now. "hmm, if we're talkin' ballads, i'll throw out 'here' by ji jin seok, or 'darling' yang da il..." he has no idea if stevie's ever listened to those songs before, but it may be better if he hasn't. that means after this he can go home, look them up at his leisure, and interpret them however he wants to.

"if we're talkin' other genres, too, 'never knew' by jimmy brown fits for me, too. you heard any of those before?" almost by instinct at this point, he squeezes onto stevie tighter; ensuring that he's close enough to be blanketed by body heat. "don't worry, i've got you. i've got enough heat to spare for the both of us—trust. if you ever need your own personal furnace, you know where to find me."

hopefully stevie knows that that's an open invitation; any day, any time. "you definitely brighten my day, though, and you're right—gotta have the sun in order to hit the waves. real talk, not bringing you along would fuck up the whole experience for me." jindallae admits, pausing on the trail they've been walking on; looking around to make sure that no one else is around them. "i like hangin' out with you, and bein' close to you. not gonna lie, i think you're really fuckin' cute, too." he asserts, looking down and into the other's eyes; grinning.

now's the moment—he can feel it.

"can i take you out on a proper date sometime?" the question is bold, spoken with confidence, and jindallae hopes that his more direct approach isn't off-putting. he just feels like stevie may need for his intentions to be obvious. "yeah, we hang out sometimes, but i wanna try my hand at wooing you. will you give me a chance to?"

[fairytheo]

enhypen as your boyfriend.

boyfriend!enhypen x gen!reader. fluff. 1.9k. curse words. mention of bugs, food. not requested.

🐈 ⸝⸝ HEESEUNG ˙𐃷˙

super-duper caring !!

he’s so whipped for you — he smiles just by thinking about you

also very giggly around you

LOVES lending you his beanies

(aka. you stealing them..)

+ you steal his earrings as well ! not that he minds

absolutely adores singing for you / he loves singing you to sleep :D

hold up, is being heeseung’s s/o just being his personal ramen cook 🤨🤨

he aaalwaays bugs you to play games with him (especially wii and nintendo switch lmao)

either that or you’re playing animal crossing while eating takeout at your dinner table

you’re the only person in the world who he’ll ever do aegyo for. 

he secretly enjoys it, but shhh you didn’t hear that from me

i think he likes calling you names like cutie, cutiepie or just a shorter version of your name <3 (if there is one !)

booping your nose is on his everyday to do list ☝️

lowkey therapist & boyfriend in one ngl

WAIT he loves making playlists for you two,, 

“y/n! i made another playlist, do you wanna listen to it? i made it while thinking of you.” <//3 

the type to write cheesy lyrics about you, then later cringes at his own writing bUT then leaves it like that because you like it !

you have his cover of lauv’s “i’m so tired” either set as your alarm or play it on loop everyday 

(random but for some reason i can picture him giving you a cassette with his cover on it just for the vintage vibes)

🐈 ⸝⸝ JAY ˙𐃷˙

the mom-and-boyfriend in one ;] 

f a s h i o n  c o u p l e 

you are literally fashion icons. no disagreements. 

you have matching clothes or accessories ! even if it’s really subtle, the gesture behind it is super adorable <//3

cooking pt. 2 :D but this time there’s a gorden ramsay in your relationship

i can just SEE how you both two impersonate gorden ramsay while cooking which makes everything 10 times funnier !! checks every 5 seconds if the food is ready tho because he doesn’t wanna risk anything

never cleans up afterwards, either you do or no one does

since you’re both fashion icons your social media followers are going 📈📈📈

literally couple goals.

he loves taking pictures of you,, but also wants you to take pictures of him 

jay gets flustered easily so please make him flustered with sudden compliments, hugs, kisses, etc. !!

he’s also the only member i can really see calling you babe

confident but shy about pda at the same time ??? he’s both LOL 

you always tease him with his RAS moments and randomly quote them when you’re in the middle of a conversation with him lmao

random and idk if this fits here, but he likes making your lunch — leaves you encouraging notes too <3

last but not least: jokingly gets angry at you when he wants something from you, and you do the same thing back ♡

🐈 ⸝⸝ JAKE ˙𐃷˙

sweetest and softest boyfriend to ever exist. i’m so soft for him JSHSHS

definitely calls you sweetie and darling. 100%. fight me if you think otherwise. 

shows you pics of layla everyday (it’s become routine for him >_<)

a tiny bit cliché BUT lends you his jacket whenever you’re cold (even when you’re inside !!)

random thought: jake puts his hands in your hoodie pockets...

💔💔💔

it’s his personal goal to peck your cheek and forehead at least twice a day — gets pouty if he wasn’t able to do that ))):::

talks in english a lot because you love his accent !!

if you’re an english speaker, you’ll have conversations in english all. the. time.

if you’re not an english speaker, no worries, he’ll teach you !

+ reads you bedtime stories in english (jake’s australian accent >>>) 

dreams of travelling with you to australia <33  

if there’s a bug in the house you better know that jake will NOT be removing them and runs out of the house

WILL stay over at one of the other member’s houses untill that bug is REMOVED . 

so if you’re afraid of bugs as well,,, i’m sorry bae, but it’ll be your task to remove these little... creatures 😐

ngl you have more photos of layla than of him on your phone lol

(spams you with her pictures and captions them with “y/n!!! look!!! layla with a flower!!!! layla with a butterfly!!!!” it’s just so sweet aaa)

we need some “””drama””” so you make jokes about him being a “🥶💸🔥💪” boy a lot in your relationship LMAO

🐈 ⸝⸝ SUNGHOON ˙𐃷˙

ice skating dates.

this has been mentioned in other headcanons a lot already but i just HAD to include it,,

convinces you to eat ice cream after your date LOL even if it IS winter

btw. fashion couple nr. 2 !!! 

MIRROR SELCAS

MIRROR SELCAS 

ugh the visuals and the power you two hold,,,, i can’t,,,,,

has better clothes than you ngl so you share clothes lmao

it started with him lending you his sweatpants, but then you didn’t want to return them forgot to return them and BOOM 💥 here we are

extremely awkward and shy at first — don’t worry though, he becomes much more chaotic in the later phases of your relationship

he teases you SO MUCH. LIKE. SO MUCH.

always has small smile (smirk?) on his face when he’s about to make a cocky remark (so beware)

you tease him back just twice as hard which 1.) results in him in becoming flustered 2.) fails LOL

off-topic but he’d love a s/o that has a similar style to him ??? a more elegant, classy, dark style perhaps

when he’s away / busy he’ll send you some selcas and captions them with “how r u doing??” “did you eat yet?” “cheer up :P” 

kinda shy about pda but likes showing off too ???

i mean,, men... 🙄🙄 /lh

whenever someone mentions your name near him, he’ll just try to hide his smile while biting his lip (yk what i’m talking about???) and you’ll see his dimples and the affectionate look in his eyes and just AAAAA

the type of boyfriend that calls you love~

🐈 ⸝⸝ SUNOO ˙𐃷˙

skin care routines with sunoo 24/7 🤝

he does your hair (if your hair is long enough to do different hairstyles with it ofc !!) 

send you daily weekly skin care products he thinks you two should try out / that’d be good for your skin <3

spa nights every friday at 9pm — he only lets you in if you wear a stylish pyjama LOL

you buy him peach items because they just remind you so much of him (｡•́︿•̀｡)

SELCA TIME !!! his phone is always ready !!! (apart from his storage maybe?)

PARTICIPATES IN SELCA DAYS OF YOUR FAVOURITE IDOLS AAA

loves to go on walks w u

does A LOT of aegyo,, 

and i know that you knew that this point will be in this headcanon.

for eg. instead of saying goodnight or bye he’ll just do aegyo for you not that anyone minds tbh

stages of sunoo flirting (?):

a — tries to compliment you (it sounds more like a flirty remark tbh)

b — realizes then blushes

c — cringes and runs away LMAO

playfully acts jealous, so you know it’s a joke but deep down he’s actually jealous

you two match each others vibes a lot — if one is sad, the other is sad as well

+ tells you your posture is bad when you sit like a banana or tells you to go to sleep early and when you don’t listen to him, he’ll show you an article that proves that (abc) and (xyz) is bad for you and says “i told you so.” 💀

🐈 ⸝⸝ JUNGWON ˙𐃷˙

impresses you by doing kicks (does the kick cap challenge on tiktok and/or you play kick it by nct 127 for the funzies) 

poking his dimple is a MUST . 😩😩

though gets super shy when you kiss him and also if you buy him gifts !!

cheers you up whenever you feel down or are upset

compliments you a ton ))): will randomly come up to you and tell you that your fit is cute or that you look brighter today,,, little does he know it's because of him ;]

HUGS!HUGS!HUGS

poking his dimple comes first, then hugging

the other members tease you two everytime you’re over LOL it’s like there are two koalas clinging onto each other

our yang garden gained another sheep +1

you two randomly play sheep,,,, like,,, everyday ???? sheep cosplays 👍

idk why ig it’s just fun to imitate sheep and go “mmmeEeEeeEhh” to annoy others

talking of that, even THOUGH he is a responsible leader he will not hesitate to do stupid shit with you

“hey how about we ring on that house there and yell “sheep for sale!” do you think they’ll open the door?”

“i don’t know... let’s find out!” 🤝

let’s just say that this didn’t end well..

also kinda bullies you (in a loving way ofc !!) pand teases you nonstop

either calls you asshole or love aHA

in conclusion: a very unpredictable relationship,, would 10/10 recommend.

very random but i feel like his love language is acts of service

🐈 ⸝⸝ NI-KI ˙𐃷˙

oh look it’s our tsundere 😼

can’t go a day without dancing so you two have vibing sessions at 2am everyday ft. the others telling you to go to bed

you’re the only one that can make him soft lol

if you’re older than him, you would definitely take care of him like your own baby !! 

if you are the same age as him or younger it’d be awkward for him at first, because he isn’t used to taking care of someone younger, so he’d treat you as if you were his best friend at the beginning

you love to watch him dance !! it’s so satisfying,, LITERAL asmr.

pranks you 24/7. boy has NO mercy. will not care if the others will scold him later. he will do the prank smoothly (?) — doesn’t care about the consequences LMAO

probably sets your alarm to someone screaming or a cringy aegyo song <//3

wants to film dance covers with you !! you don’t have to be the best dancer either !! as long as you have fun ^__^ 

the other members find you really cute but are also vERY TIRED OF YOU,, two energized teens in a relationship was not a good idea ☝️

likes to randomly hold your hand and swing it around 

probably distant at the beginning of the relationship because a.) he doesn’t want to pressure you/make things awkward b.) he doesn’t really know what to do either ???

(if you’re not japanese or don’t know how to speak japanese) he’ll definitely teach you some japanese phrases and words !! introduce you to his culture as well :DD and he really wants to know more about your culture too <3

teaches you phrases like “sunoo is a dumbass” for the funzies LOL

randomly makes micheal jackson impressions,,, it’s hilarious LMFAO

[ohbuckie]

FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT II

college!bucky x fem!reader (first part isn’t a necessary read prior to this one) summary: bucky fucks you in the back of his car at a drive-in. warnings: smut, semi public sex, implication that reader has hair long enough to pull word count: 2k masterlist

(pls dm me for credit or removal of this gif)

Your hand is on Bucky’s thigh.

It’s customary for the boyfriend’s right hand to be on the girlfriend’s left thigh, but his only real hand is occupied by the steering wheel, and he can’t hold the wheel with only his prosthetic. So, you fill the role, fingers tapping against the inside of his muscular right leg.

He looks pretty when he drives—with his arm outstretched to display his sculpted muscles. His hair is fluffy and shiny and soft, and his lips confidently mouth the lyrics to the songs that play through the car. He was wearing sunglasses before the sun disappeared below the horizon, and they’re now atop his head, holding his hair away from his forehead, with the exception of a stubborn strand that dangles between his eyebrows.

You stare down at Bucky’s phone, held by your free hand, adding music to his Spotify queue. Just enough to bring you to where you’re going. “How much longer?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe ten minutes.”

It takes twelve.

He pulls the car between two posts in the very center of the dirt lot, parking it and unlocking the doors so that you can hop out. While he sits in the front and tunes the radio to the channel indicated on the slip of paper that the teenage girl at the front booth gave you, you spread out the plush blankets and soft pillows, making the trunk—and backseat, with all of the seats down—mostly habitable, at least for a few hours. Pillows are pushed against the backs of the front seats, a small blanket covering the area beneath you, leaving the comforter that he brought from his bed against the side to be put over your laps once you’re both ready to sit.

It’s already dark, and the cold air bites at your nose, nips at your fingertips. Bucky turns the headlights off and climbs over the center console, laying over the setup you’ve created. You lift yourself into the trunk, kicking off your shoes onto the ground beside the car, settling beside him. He looks at his phone for the time, and announces that the movie won’t start for another ten minutes.

He says it with a suggestive smirk and a hand on your waist, and you roll your eyes playfully just before he captures your lips with his. You lay on your back with your arms around his neck as he hovers over you, leaning on one elbow and using his other arm to hold you close to himself. Your fingers twirl around the thick hair at the back of his head, dark brown and intentionally unkempt.

“I’m not doing this during the movie, you know.” You breathe against him, and he pulls away.

“Why not?”

“We paid thirty dollars to get in here. We can shove our tongues down each others’ throats at home.”

“Then we should probably get it all out now.” He doesn’t wait for a response before kissing you again, hand slowly trailing down your back to grab your ass. The old-timey drive-in commercials play in the background of the hot, wet kisses that he delivers to your mouth, and your jaw, and your throat. He sucks a mark into the side of your neck, most definitely too high to cover with the collars on any of the shirts that you own.

The screen goes black suddenly and the opening sequence starts; a rumbling storm, birds chirping, Echo and the Bunnymen. He sighs, pecking your lips a last time and letting you shift to get more comfortable. For you, that means pushing your back against his chest and pulling the thick blanket over the two of you, putting your hand over his, which rests on your waist.

“All good?”

“Mm-hmm.” You put your arm under your head for a better angle of the big screen. He kisses the crown of your head sweetly.

It doesn’t take long for him to start fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. He pulls at the fabric, twists it, inches his fingers beneath it. You squirm in response to his cold touch, and feel him smile against your shoulder, soon finding your neck with his lips.

His fingers trail down your stomach and nestle underneath the waistband of your sweatpants—his sweatpants, actually—stopping to ask for permission.

You nod, but he makes a gentle demand. “Words, sweetheart.” “Do whatever you want.” You say softly, almost shyly.

His hand slides down your pants, teasing you over your panties. He presses his middle finger against your core, making you grind against him for more friction. With pressure on your clothed clit, he kisses down your neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His lips are dry from the chilly air, but his kisses are delicate.

He removes his hand and taps your lower lip with two of his thick fingers. You take them in your mouth, tongue slithering around them, coating them with saliva to help him out. They nearly touch the back of your throat when your lips reach the knuckle, and you pull off slowly when they’ve been properly lubricated.

He pushes his hand down the front of your underwear, finally making contact with your skin. His fingers are warm now, from being between your legs as well as in your mouth, and you’re grateful not to be shivering anymore. He rolls your clit between his fingers, moving down to your entrance to spread around your wetness, which is already abundant.

You inhale sharply when a fingertip probes you, slipping in carefully and letting you accommodate. “Bucky.”

“Gotta be quiet.” He reminds you, mouth against the shell of your ear.

“I know.” You squeak.

“Shut up, then.”

The words go straight to your center, making you tighten around him and swallow hard. He gives a couple of slow pumps. “Another?”

“Mm-hmm.” You whine, and he takes his hand out for a moment, pulling it from your pants. He shoves it in again, down the back this time, and stretches you around two of his fingers. You bring your hand to your mouth, biting on your sleeve to keep quiet. “Fuck.”

He moves his hand with purpose—which is, of course, to make you cum—while the giant screen in front of you plays a movie you’ve both seen before. You can hear the words in your head before the actors even say them: Oh, please, tell me, Elizabeth, how exactly does one suck a fuck? You want me to tell you? Please, tell me.

It takes your mind off of the fingers breaching your entrance; helps you last at least a little bit longer. He pushes and pulls, twists and curls, while you writhe beside him, trying desperately not to make any noise.

It makes an obscene noise—a wet slurp that serves as evidence of how quickly he can drive you crazy. “You’re so fucking wet.” He mutters against your cheek.

You swallow a moan, whining somewhat loudly. “Bucky.”

“Yeah?”

“Please fuck me.”

“You don’t wanna cum first?”

You shake your head. “I need you.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly, making sure you’re looking behind your shoulder at him when he sucks your taste off of them, releasing them from his mouth with a pop. He gets up on his knees, reaching to close the trunk for at least a little bit of privacy.

He tells you to get on your stomach in front of him, and he shoves a pillow beneath your pelvis to prop your hips up. With two hands, he yanks your pants and underwear down and over your ass, exposing you to him. You point your ass upwards, giving him a view of your wetness.

You hear rustling, and assume it’s him shoving his pants down his thighs. A crinkle and a rip alert you to the opening of a condom.

“You seriously had a condom in your pocket this whole time?”

“Of course I did.”

“You’re such a tool.”

“Yup.”

He spreads your ass and spits on your pussy, putting his painfully hard cock against your entrance. He pushes into you, bottoming out quickly and holding onto the driver’s seat for leverage.

“Fuck.” He whispers.

“Shit, Buck.”

He pulls his hips back, far enough so the head of his cock threatens to slip out, before slamming forward again. You slap a hand over your own mouth, feeling him find his rhythm.

It’s safe to assume that everyone around you knows what you’re doing. With the trunk closed and the inside lights off, they can’t see anything, but the SUV wobbles on its suspension in the loose dirt and alerts everyone of your activities. You try to keep quiet, because nobody needs further confirmation that you’re being had in the trunk.

This position makes it easier for him to hit all the right spots—more specifically, the one deep inside of you that makes your legs shake and your toes curl. The stretch you feel with every thrust stings only a little bit, but doesn’t hurt. You always need a minute to get used to him, anyway.

You moan quietly, lips sealed, and arch your back so that you’re pushing back into him.

“You’re so tight like this.” He says, and rests his metal hand on your lower back.

“Bucky-y.” You whine, unable to conceptualize any other words.

“Lift up your hips up for me.” He requests. “On your knees.”

You do as he asks, bracing your hands on the floor in front of you when you rise to your knees. He puts a foot up to balance himself after he removes his hand from the seat and grabs hold of you, using your hips like handles to hold onto while he slams into you barbarically.

He pulls you backwards with every thrust, but your clothes—still covering as much as possible, since it’s cold and this was meant to be a quickie—muffle the sound of you hitting against each other. It’s only a soft clapping; much more innocent than the usual slapping of damp skin that’s shared between you.

You hear his necklace jingle with every movement—a ball chain with a pendant on it that reads your first name, hammered crookedly into a circle of aluminum, letter by letter, with a small mallet and metal stamps. It hits his clothed chest and rings like a bell as a sort of reminder to you that it’s him who’s making you feel this good.

You feel him tangle his flesh fingers in the hair close to your scalp, balling up his fist and tugging. You moan, and he allows himself to do the same, all the while holding your head back at an uncomfortable angle.

“I’m close.” He mumbles, releasing your hair suddenly and quickly finding your clit. He briefly pulls away and spits on his fingers, pressing against you again, this time letting his saliva cover you. He rolls the sensitive part between his fingers, and soon starts tracing circles. They’re small, and fairly gentle, at first, but he quickly heats things up. He adds more pressure, and increases the size of the circles that he draws like his life depends on it.

Your breathy moans that you try hopelessly to conceal grow louder with every passing second, and you’re soon being dropped over the edge. Your head drops between your shoulder while you cum, and you clench around him unwillingly, triggering his own release. His hips falter and he spills into the condom, staying inside of you until he’s milked dry.

When he’s ready, he pulls out, ties up the condom, tosses it in the bag of trash that he keeps dangling from the shifter in the front seat. He pulls your pants back over your ass, and does the same to his own, waiting for you to maneuver yourself around to face him so he can kiss you.

It’s much gentler than the sex was, and his pink mouth seems to melt against yours while he holds your face, breath fanning over your cheek. You pull away, glancing at the foggy windows, dripping with evidence of your actions.

“Let’s get outta here.”

“Is that you asking for round two?”

“Uh-huh.” He smiles. “Just not in the car. My knees hurt.”

“Tell me about it.”