#lyrics are from between two worlds if anyone is curious!! it's a song that reminds me a lot of homura

[0rchidm4ntis]

If only we could be forever naive and pure / If only we could lead painless futures / If only there could be a forgiving world

[little-diable]

Bonnie and Clyde 2.0 - Biker! Bucky Barnes (smut)

Witten for @firefly-in-darkness movie challenge (I chose pulp fiction) and my own 9k challenge. @band--psycho created the moodboard. You’ll find some parallels to the movie and a few quotes. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Two fugitives on the run, two lovers that live out of a suitcase, leaving their hometown behind to strengthen their connection.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, robbery, guns (nobody gets hurt tho), some good ole’ angst, but a happy end (kind of) 

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (2.4k+)

“Are you ready?” His voice dropped with each syllable that spilled from his chapped lips, metallic arm shining in the bright Los Angeles sunlight. Her pupils slightly got wider behind the dark pair of sunglasses, gaze flickering between her lover and the waitress that tried to calm a pair of unsatisfied customers.

(Y/n) reached for her suitcase with one hand, while the other one tightened its grip on her gun. A slight nod of her head signaled him to rise from his seat, clearing his voice before he raised his own gun, metal just as shiny, just as mysterious as his arm.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky turned towards his girl, smirking as she blew him a kiss.

“I love you too, you crazy motherfucker,” she settled behind him, cocking her gun as Bucky’s voice echoed through the diner, speaking to the confused and scared customers.

“Everybody be cool, this is a robbery.”

--

The wind was blowing through her hair, arms tightly wrapped around his middle, squeezing him with each turn his machine took. Alpine was roaring through the night, rattling as the moon was standing high, guiding the two through the rough land, protecting them from the darkness that lingered behind thick clouds of rain.

Both trusted the road to take them where they would be safe, hidden from the cops that looked for the two that got called “Bonnie and Clyde 2.0” - a cheap nickname the newspapers came up with. Two fugitives on the run, two lovers that live out of a suitcase, leaving their hometown behind to strengthen their connection.

By now it almost felt too natural, too easy to rob one diner after another. It was always the same routine, he’d tell her how much he loves her before drowning his cup of coffee, rising from his seat with a gun in his hand, not planning to kill anyone but the register full of cash.

Not once would they doubt their motives, two lovers that needed money to survive, to make their way through the land, highs, and lows that kept them on their toes. At the end of the day, they’d just be themselves, a suitcase and a bike that swore to take them wherever they planned on driving to next.

Late at night, as they’d crash in a motel on the side of the road, he’d make love to her in the most intimate way. Caring, soft and sweet, kissing promises into her skin, silently apologising for the unstable and dangerous lifestyle he had pulled her into.

Bucky would fuck her on the bed, against the wall, or in the shower, sometimes - just sometimes - he’d pull Alpine over, would stop the engine to fuck her on his bike in the middle of nowhere. His cock would twitch deep inside of her, holding onto her as the burning heat would engulf them, sweaty bodies would meet, kisses would get pressed against their swollen lips.

He was addicted to her, urged on by the adrenaline that would rush through him while he’d speed through the streets, hiding from the cops that kept on looking for the two. They were careful enough, ready to lay low for days on end, parting ways for a day and a night, just to meet again at the end of the road.

They’d dance to Johnny Cash as the sun was setting, whispering tunes only the dead knew by heart. Where the gun is cocked as the bullet’s cold, where the miles are marked in the blood and gold - they’d always meet up further on up the road. 

“I’ll see if they have a phone,” (y/n)’s feet tingled, legs quivering from sitting on Alpine for way too long. His metal hand clamped down on her hand, pulling her against his front, not giving her a chance to leave the dark and dusty hotel room. Bucky’s cold breath met her neck, hairs rising, hyper-alert to her surroundings.

“We talked about this, you can’t.” Her heart ached, desperate to hear her mother’s voice again, to talk about the ones she had left behind, sick and poor, healthy and rich, caring or not about her sudden disappearance. She turned around in his embrace, ran her hand through his hair, scratching his burning scalp.

“I just miss her, you know?” A kiss got shared between the two, lips meeting hers to stop her from talking, not used to seeing her this fragile and confused, with waves of sadness crashing through her system. Impatient hands tugged on the zipper of her leather jacket, watching the heavy piece of fabric tumbling to the floor.

“Maybe we just need to distract you for a while,” Bucky’s rough voice sidetracked her from the loud thoughts that screamed at her to run, to rip herself out of his claws. His metallic fingers danced up and down her throat, softly squeezing the skin, a simple reminder of their arrangement, she was his, till handcuffs would tighten their grip on his wrists, ready to convict him for his wrongdoings.

Swiftly he had her pressed against the wall, forcing his hand into her trousers, rubbing her clit through her panties. She panted his name, (y/n) was fighting a war inside her head, holding onto the last strings of sanity that kept her focused, trying to ignore the silent whispers of the darkness, pulling her further into his trap, chaining her to the criminal.

Heavy breaths spilled from their lips, the temperature kept rising, begging them to finally undress themselves, to give into their cravings. Bucky watched her step out of her trousers, working on the dark belt of his, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his clothes. He slipped into her before she could say another word, roughly fucking her as the pictures on the wall began to shake, about to crash to the floor.

“You feel this?” His metallic hand disappeared beneath her shirt, pressed against her lower belly, feeling his cock deep inside of her. Bucky fucked her like it was their last night of freedom, facing the cops that were betting on the two lovers, watching them fall apart as the world was closing in on them. “I’ll always be right here with you, we belong together.”

Her teeth nibbled on his lower lip, hands tugging on the hairs at the nape of his neck, keeping him close. Their orgasms were creeping closer, ready to rock through them, to distract them from the life they were living, allowing them to take deep breaths without worrying about curious eyes.

“I love you,” were the last words she spoke before her walls began to clamp down on his cock, squeezing him, begging him to fuck her through her orgasm. Bucky seemed to understand the signals her body was sending out to him, he kept on snapping his hips against hers, cock covered in her arousal, the sweet drops of her release.

The moment his warmth began to spread through her (y/n)’s legs gave out, body tumbling against his, almost knocking him off his own feet.

Late at night when she was asleep he’d lay next to her with a racing heart. Bucky couldn’t help but feel guilty, hating himself for tainting a pure girl like her, she could live a life filled with love and success, no longer having to sleep on dirty mattresses, to eat cheap meals. She could live the life she deserves. A life without a criminal by her side, though with a man that would cherish and love her just like he should.

---

“You never can tell” played from the jukebox. A few people danced through the diner, moving to the song, singing the lyrics. (Y/n) watched them with a tight smile playing on her lips, sipping on the cocktail she had ordered an hour ago. Bucky was absorbed into the newspaper he had stolen from a gas station earlier that day.

(Y/n) studied him, he was biting down on his lip, eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out if they were in danger if the cops were truly as close to them as the newspapers kept on telling. Words were burning on her tongue, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed and jealous, of the ones that got twirled around by their lovers.

“Don’t you hate that?” A sigh left her, eyes still focused on Bucky, waiting for him to finally lift his gaze off the white paper.

“What?” Just for a second, he placed the newspaper down, waiting for her to speak, to explain her random choice of words. He couldn’t waste any time, had to figure out if they still had enough time to eat before having to cock their guns.

“Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?”

“I don't know. That's a good question.” Bucky tried to stop his eyes from rolling, slightly shaking his head, averting his gaze once again.

“That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, (y/n) was spitting each word, placing her glass down, finishing the way too expensive drink.

Her hands tugged on his, pulling him out of their booth, straight towards the dance floor. She felt her gun moving with each step she took, burning into her skin, preparing for their old routine, the one she could talk about as she was barely awake. In this very moment, it was just the two of them, dancing with one another, sharing kisses, not worrying about the road they’d have to take in a few minutes.

“You need to promise me something, doll.” Bucky’s hand found its way to her jaw, holding onto her as she danced to the beat. “Do you see the door back there?” He twirled her into the right direction, eyes focused on the barely alight door, the one where a lazy waitress had scribbled “exit” onto the wood.

She only nodded her head, didn’t reply to his question, wondering where he was going with this.

“The second I tell you to run, you’ll take off through that door, understood?” Her mouth opened and closed, thoughts racing, trying to figure out if he was coming up with a new routine, anything to set the cops onto the wrong track. But the dark eyes of his told a different story, the almost painful expression he wore explained everything she needed to know.

“I won’t leave you.” Tears welled up in her eyes, hands trembling, reaching for the collar of his leather jacket. Her lips found his, he could taste her tears on her skin, the drops that were as salty as the ocean, rocking his boat back and forth as the sun was setting, painting the dark water in a red shade.

His heart burned, trying to understand that this was the last time he’d see her, the last time he’d get to hold her. She had been like a dream, too good to be true, too colorful for his dark world, a splash of color he was about to wipe off his soul.

“Call your mom for me, tell her I said sorry.” Bucky dried her tears with his lips, kissing along her cheeks, anything to remember the feeling of her skin, the scent of hers he’d hold onto as life has lost its meaning.

Bile pooled in her mouth, insides churning, finally understanding that he was saying goodbye. He was waking her from the dream that had clouded her mind for months, pulling her back into the harsh reality of her life. She couldn’t live without him, couldn’t survive if she wouldn’t breathe the same air as Bucky.

“Take the suitcase and run.” A soft push ripped her off his chest, hands no longer holding onto him. (Y/n)’s vision was blurred, tears kept on streaming down her cheeks, dripping onto the dirty diner floor. Bucky disappeared in the crowd of dancing people, he didn’t spare her another glance, didn’t stick around for long enough to see if she’d make it to safety.

---

Rain was falling from the sky, pitter-pattering against her window. Different polaroid pictures were placed on her blanket, memories she had kept in her suitcase, hidden away for months. The reminders of him had been too painful for (y/n), she barely looked at the pictures she had taken of his handsome face, but she couldn’t make it through the day without touching the necklace he had gifted her, hoping that his scent was still sticking to the metal.

“What’s that?” Her chuckles rumbled through her, naked body placed in front of him, waiting for Bucky to finally give in. He had been teasing her for the past hours, keeping her at arm's length, barely touching her.

“A promise,” his voice dropped, hands finally reaching for hers, “a promise that no matter what, you’ll always have my heart.”

The silvery necklace he pulled out of his jacket got placed around her neck, twinkling in the faint light. (Y/n)’s fingers traced the pendant, smiling at the man her heart had chosen to love. The kiss she pressed against his lips grew raw and hungry, pulling him closer to her naked frame.

Bucky’s fingers ran through her folds, collecting drops of arousal that dripped from her heat, begging him to finally fuck her. She reached for his length, pumped him a few times, silently asking him if he was ready to make love to her all through the night.

Both moaned in unison, holding onto one another, settling for a calm rhythm, trying to get adjusted to one another’s body. Her walls fluttered, feeling the thin, velvety skin of his, exploring every inch of his glorious self, ready to burn her touch into his soul.

“Here, this came for you.” Her mother entered the room with a smile on her lips, placing a card down on (y/n)’s desk. She had left before her daughter could ask any questions, leaving her behind with her loud thoughts. Cautiously she neared her desk, fingers running along the slightly worn-out paper of the card.

“Greetings from Rome” had been printed onto the paper, next to a few pictures. Her hands trembled as she turned the card, a single chuckle left her lips, glassy eyes reading through the words that had been scribbled onto the paper. 

No matter what, he’d always have her heart, even oceans apart.

Marvel Taglist: @jensenackles512​ @princesspumpkiin​ @cuddle-stuff​ @mrs-salvawhore​ @thenightperson​ @jellybean-22 @writethelifeyouwant @band–psycho @23victoria @huntheimpossible @positionsfyou @missryerye @lowilaufeyson​ @gothicxbarbie@bluesclues-1234 @miraclesoflove @coldlilheart @pandaxnienke​ @cherieweasley @wittysunflower @your-hispanichufflepuff @angelusviate @savior-adriana​ @mbjackie @belladonnablackwood @abookishpineapple​ @doasyoudesireandlive​ @mbjackie​

Fallen Angels: @mgkbabygirl​ @shrekboobies​ @ivelveti @honiebee @itstaylorcale​ @mcira​ @megamieversole-blog​ @amelia-song-pond @bwbatta​ @damianoaf​ 

Add yourself to my taglist

[extremelyblackandwhite]

heiress - 3

pairing: bucky barnes x oc!reader

a/n: this is part three of a four part series based on a song lyrics sent to me by an amazing anon with a reader based on my favourite oc brought to you by me listening to turning page from sleeping at last so i decided to add a quote. hope you enjoy xx

“letters strewn across your bedroom floor. such beautiful words but you can’t remember who they’re for“

“if i had only felt the warmth within your touch. if i had only seen how you smile when you blush or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough i would have known what i was living for all along”

previous chapter

She entered her past as she stepped into the right wing room. She remembered this room, she remembered it way to well from the shelves on the walls and the book cabinets to the burning smell it still somehow held even after all these years. Her eyes gazed from side to side until they turned purple and ghosts of her memories started to take form. Her eyes widened as she stepped back, trying to run away from the room until two hands grabbed her arms into place forcing her towards the chair where he was, long hair hitting his jaw, strapped like a wild animal. She struggled against the two men, trying to free herself from their hold, yet it didn’t budge, they kept holding her into place as if she was being punished. 

     - Wipe him again. - one of the men in a lab coat said in a thick Russian accent as the chair lowered down towards an electric head lock. His screams inundated her mind like daggers. Her breath quickened as she started to move her arms to try and get freed for them, to try and help them.

     - STOP! PLEASE! - she yelled out, begged as she continued to try and free herself from the two men holding her arms until she fell on her knees. An agony filled scream passed through her lips, overpowering his own screams as a wave of white glow expanded from her to the corners of the room.

     - Y/N! - her head was tucked into her legs as someone held her shoulders. Her breathe came out into fast, short paced puffs as he lifted her head to see Bucky standing in front of her holding her arms. What scared her wasn’t him but what surrounded her as she looked around to see everything that laid across the room was gone, the walls itself interrupting from being walls into being made of white glow, her eyes completely white.

    - Get away from me. - she pushed away from Bucky, unsure of what she had done, unsure of what she had seen. - I don’t wanna hurt you, I don’t wanna hurt you again.

    - Look at me. - he ignored her pushing him away, walking up to her again and lowering himself down to her level. His blue eyes met her completely white ones as he wondered what to do. He didn’t know what to do. - Breathe, okay?

    - Okay. - she felt the air enter and exit her lungs slowly as she stared into his  blue eyes, so calm. 

    - GET AWAY FROM HER! - a red glow pushed him away from Y/N to reveal Wanda and Sam who had come to her rescue the moment they heard her scream. She rushed from the door to her friend, holding her hands in hers while Sam went to check on Bucky. - What’s wrong? What did he do? I can’t read his mind.

    - He didn’t do anything. I ... I lost control. - Y/N looked down at her hands and at the room which was slowly returning to its normality, with the objects slowly returning. - I don’t know what happened. I walked in and ... it just exploded. 

    - Guys, we found it. - Monica spoke over the intercom. Y/N’s eyes lingered over to where Wanda had effortlessly thrown Bucky too, an apologetic look, yet she couldn’t understand his look. It was curious almost too curious as if he was looking for clues in her face. Wanda protectively draped her arm over her back, pushing her away from the room which was still haunted by a white-like glow.

She knew that memory, the one she had been stuck in. It was a much too familiar memory of several times she had been punished by watching them ... by watching them hurt him. Madame B was many things but she was a smart woman, a smart woman who carefully plucked out every fear her girls had and used them against them if any stepped the line. Bucky had been one fear too easy to spot, having seen Y/N step up to a guard who had harmed him even after the much taller man had thrown her to a ground. It was a haunted memory for her. - they would always hold her and make her watch as they hurt him. She still remembered his screaming, blood curdling, pain filled screams. Seeing it again, being in that room and have him come to her was just too much. 

Yelena and the rest of the team had been left in the dark about everything that had happened. It was best that way; she did not need more people worrying about things she should’ve already figured out. However, Agatha was right and that she knew. Whatever the soul stone had given her was easily uncontrollable if she was in a messy state. If someone had answers it had to be Agatha yet she had learned that dealing with her was a monkey’s paw. 

Bucky on the other hand couldn’t stop looking at her. The more he did, the less foggy the memories became from the very time he had seen her to the last time he did. All he could fixate however was on a broken promise he had made her the last time he had seen her. I will find you, I promise. Such pretty words, such a beautiful promise, almost worthy of being in a poem but the truth is, he hadn’t been looking for her. He had memories of her in patches, memories of what he had felt for her and now she was there. He wondered if she remembered him, if she knew who he was. If she remembered ... maybe she didn’t. After all HYDRA and the Red Room had a particular talent at destroying memories with a swift ability. He watched as she listened to Monica explain what they had found and what not, her hair escaping the grip of her ponytail held up by a red piece of fabric tied in a small bow. 

     - Promise me you’ll remember I love you. - his own ghost voice melodised into his hearing along with the sound of rain against window panes. It wasn’t raining and he wasn’t speaking. - Because they’ll make me forget and you have to remember. You have to remember so you can remind me.

    - You won’t forget it. - he could hear her voice as he looked at her but Y/N wasn’t even looking at him. He wondered when she had told him that, he wondered if he had reassured her, he wondered if she remembered when he had told him that. There was so much he still didn’t know but it came in waves, it came in waves explaining what it was. Wanda, however, was staring at him, head slightly cocked to the side in a menacing manner. He looked at the Sokovian woman, trying to read her but he couldn’t. Her mood was a simple as someone keeping her eye on him.

The small plane landed just outside the hex; Yelena jumping from the harbour onto the wilderness the first, followed by Alexei and Monica who were excited enough to study the new notebook but Y/N lingered behind. Flashes of what had just happened rushing through her mind as she stared at the blank wall of the small plane and then back to her hands which were trembling.

    - Matter manipulation is messy, isn’t it, dear? - a voice shook her from her own mind. Looking around there was no one but her. She put her hand over her holster, ready to shoot at nowhere. 

    - What are you doing? - she turned around to see Wanda approaching the jet, having broken apart from the group to check on Y/N. - We need to talk. It’s about Bucky.

    - What about Bucky? - she climbed out of the jet to met Wanda.

    - I can’t read him anymore. - she sighed. - Did you maybe by accident expanded your “shield” to him too?

    - This is not Twilight, Wanda. I cannot expand whatever it is I have.

    - Well, I don’t trust him. - she shrugged. - What happened in the Red Room?

    - Oh, it was nothing. - she lied, it was something but she did not want to worry Wanda. She didn’t want to worry anyone, she just wanted to get into the hex and go to sleep and that’s just what she did.

She forwent the meeting, last thing she needed was to hear about the Winter Soldier. If there was someone who knew more about the Winter Soldier than the person himself was her and that knowledge was tainted with memories that she wished to relieve yet forget. Laying against her bed she starred at the white ceiling of her bedroom, raising her fingers to play around with the white mist that surrounded them at her will. Element manipulation, that’s what she did. That’s what her file said, that’s what SWORD told her yet element manipulation wouldn’t have made a full room’s objects disappear. Whatever it was, whatever HYDRA and her father had put in her she didn’t know. She always seemed to be the last to know of things that concerned her. Bringing her hand down, she rolled in bed to lay on her side, watching her door with sleepy eyes, hoping she could go to sleep. Of course the universe had different plans as once she felt herself waver between to conscious and unconscious world, she heard a knock against her door. Groaning, she got up from the warmth of her bed and padded towards the door, opening it to slightly to see Bucky standing there. 

   - Sergeant Barnes, everything okay? - she leaned against the side of her door, staring him up and down. 

   - Yes, I just wanted to give back the letters Monica Rambeau gave to me. I assume you and your team will be able to decode them better than me ... I guess. - he handed her the stack of letters worn out by time and his own hands. Her eyes moved up from the letters to his eyes, looking for any type of game he could be playing with her. - I guess with you being Pierce’s daughter and all ... maybe he commented with you.

   - Ah ... - she forced a smile upon her lips as she took the letters. - You know, I haven’t spoken with my father since I was 10.

   - I didn’t me ...

   - He didn’t really try to reach out to me either. - she interrupted him. - The only person he has reached out while in prison has been Fury. I don’t even think he would know what I look like. 

   - I didn’t mean to offend you.

   - You didn’t. - she sighed, hand pushing her own hair back. - I wish I could apologise better for what he did to you but I really wouldn’t know how I’d do it. 

   - I wouldn’t want you to apologise.

   - You don’t even know how many apologies I actually owe you. - she looked down to her feet before looking at him. - ... because of my father, I mean. 

    - Well... if anything there helps. - he put his hands on his pockets. - Or if you know who they’re for  ... let me know.

She stood against her door as he left right after that sentence, watching him disappear in the long hallway probably to return to his bedroom. It didn’t really matter, really, she told herself. Yet part of her knew Bucky was much more observant than she could ever be so if there was nothing she could find in those letters. Nevertheless, the most curious side of her nature only wanted to know what is, so she did. She sat down in her bed and grabbed the first letter, pushing it from the envelope onto the comforter. She recognised his handwriting, a bit more messy, probably rushed in ran out ink. He probably had stole one of the sign in sheets old pens which barely worked. 

Y/N faltered, refusing to focus on his writing, on his words to her. She knew they were dated after she had ran away from the Red Room and she didn’t want to read his words to her after she had abandoned him. It was too much yet the more her eyes read the date, the more courage she got. Might as well get her heart broken and move on with her life.

Dear Daisy,

today I remembered you and it is probably silly to be writing it down mostly because I don’t expect you to ever read it but if I write it down at least I can remember you again if they make me forget. I remembered the first time I ever saw you yet mentioning it now feels weird as I don’t even know if you knew I had seen you. You had a black bodysuit I am almost certain and black ballerina shoes dancing up to some monotonous music with your hair pushed back with some old red fabric in a small bow. It just came to me staring at that piano myself, maybe as long as that piano exists I won’t forget you yet I don’t know if it will hurt less to remember you or to forget you. All I know is, the moment they send me out I will find you. I promise I will find you.

Well, the two of them were good at broken promises, she thought to herself. Maybe he had reminded himself to find her and chose not to after assessing her actions, maybe he didn’t even remember she existed or what her voice was. She hoped the later was true. She wouldn’t know what to say, what to do if he remembered her. Years ago she used to picture it in her naive mind; running to him, hugging and kissing like in a picture perfect rom com. Now she just wouldn’t know what to say other than beg on her knees for his forgiveness. Not that she deserved it. At least she had that in common with her father, both owed James Barnes an apology which could never be accepted. 

Y/N shoved whatever was left of those letters under her bed, hoping to bury them in the same place she buried all her worries. What use was going back to the past? It hadn’t been kind to her then, it wouldn’t be kind now so there was really no use in dwelling in what could’ve been. In what she could’ve been. Childish whims. She let her thoughts simmer, lull her into sleep until she was back into that place, that room which had made her into what she was now. She looked down, dressed in the issued black shirt and leggings, small gun in hand. She looked to the side, Madam B. standing near her in her impecable blue suit with a wood board under her arm.

      - It’s just this one and you are gonna win. - she gave her a smile but it wasn’t warm, it was cold, too cold. - Just shot the target, darling. 

     - What if I fail? - she looked at the person tied to the chair, bag over the head. 

     - You can’t fail. - the assistant pulled the bag from over the target to reveal Bucky. She took a step behind, faltering as her grip loosened over the gun she was holding. - Shoot him.

     - I can’t.

     - Shoot him. 

     - I can’t ... I won’t.

     - Fine, then I’ll do it. - she grabbed the gun from her and rose it up to Bucky’s head. She tried to run, to try and put herself in front of her but she was stuck, she was stuck ... and then bang. 

She rose from her bed in terror, sweating, breathes coming in and out as fast as they could as she looked around to see the walls of her bedroom. She was safe, she was safe, she was not there. He was safe. Looking down at her hands, the shivering had become and this time it bothered her. She looked weak, frail ... just like her father had described her before, like SWORD and HYDRA described her. Y/N jumped off her bed, running away from her bed to try and find the bathroom or the kitchen ... somewhere she could wash her shivering hands, somewhere she could drown her face in cold water just somewhere. She rushed through the kitchen doors and to the sink, turning on the water before putting her hands under the running water.

     - Y/N? Are you okay? - she had rushed so fast into the kitchen she hadn’t even noticed someone else was already there. She turned her head from the sink to look at Bucky but what she saw made her put her hand in front her mouth. He was there, long hair ... with a wound shot on his forehead. She turned her head back to sink, watching her reflection in the sink, her eyes glowing white. - Y/N?

She looked over her should back to him, that look ... what he looked like was gone. He had short hair, healthy skin, no wounds but she had seen it, she had seen it. Bucky noticed the discomfort in her face, taking a step back once he noticed his arm was on full display along with its scars. Sometimes he forgot about how he looked, about how he could freak people out.

     - Sergeant Barnes, I’m so sorry ... I didn’t mean to scare you.

     - Are you okay?  - he wanted to reach out to her, be comforting but he barely looked like a comforting man. - You look shaken up.

     - Yeah, I just ... bad dream really. Quite childish.

     - It’s not childish. I get them all my time, my therapist say it’s normal.

     - I have no reason to have them. - she leaned against the counter. - Why are you here? Midnight snack?

     - Just had to think about some stuff and Sam snores. - he joked around, smiling once he saw her lip curl slightly upwards. - I have a question for you. You read those letters, right?

     - One of them. Why?

     - Do you think she might have loved me?

     - Pardon?

     - I will reword it. Did you love me?

taglist: @lookiamtrying​

[c-grace]

Since there are loads of [unnecessary] opinions on how Aloy looks, which I, frankly have nothing to complain about. I still believe she is very beautiful and her looks makes sense, not to mention the original model is stunning.

So lemme just take some time to write out this scenario I thought of that I found very cute and emotional, idk 'bout everyone else but it did make me cry when I thought of it.

_______________________________________

POV: You and Aloy are both outsiders, but you were cast out from being a "defect", the both of you only got to know each other during the last few years before the proving.

A little something I wanna mention, this is sorta a Y/N fanfic but without the Y/N, so wherever you feel like you need to add your name in the dialogue, you can do that but I did it so that there would be no need for the name. I hope you enjoy~

T.W: Slight mention of death and injury.

Aloy × F.reader/G.N

Also this has song lyrics in here, if that's not to your taste, I'm sorry but I couldn't think of anything else

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"Oh! I found something!"

"What? What did you find?"

"Tada! Another audio file!"

I lifted the device and showed it to Aloy and waved it with satisfaction. "And here I thought you found something useful." Aloy grumbled.

"It's important to me, you know how I love to study the old ones' musical pieces, especially the singing, they all sound.....I don't even have words to describe them." I held tightly onto the device. Using Aloy's focus I scanned the device and played the audio, and without a doubt, it was a musical piece.

"You sure love music, huh?" Aloy smiled and eyed me for a moment, "Yes, all the pieces from the metal world have a certain, essence to them, it feels like it's calling out to me." But that joy was cut short once I remembered of the proving.

"But then, with the proving coming along, the matriarchs might not let me visit any ruins and I won't be able to study them anymore." I huffed and kicked a rock away.

"Who cares? I'll take you to see more of the ruins, they didn't care for us for so long. What is it to them that we see who the old ones really were?" Aloy never understood, nor took high regard to any of the tribal laws and I do agree with her but I have no one other than her to accompany me to explore all these new wonders.

I believe Aloy can do whatever it is that she wants, no one, not even the matriarchs will be able to stop her from going to where she wishes to go. I only have her and if she were to be cast out once again just because of me, I don't think I would like that all that much.

"Thank you Aloy, oh that reminds me, I learned this song, I want you to hear it."

"Can't wait to hear it then. I can't believe it's tomorrow, how are you taking to it?" She looked at me worried and I could get where it was coming from. I get anxious quite often, taking down a watcher, without any preparation, will make me sick to the stomach. "Yeah, I've given myself a 'pep-talk and I think it's working, I don't feel too worried about it now."

"Thats good, alright, I think it's time we leave, Rost said he needs to meet with me." She stretched her hand over to me and I held on firmly, it was calloused yet warm, I felt safe by her side.

The both of us went on our ways and I made it back to the little tent that I called my study and home, I have journaled all the music I have found and dated every one of them. So far, I have recorded 12, 5 of which were addressed to someone else, it was as though they had sung while they mourned for them, wishing they could be with them and the rest were of random order but interesting nonetheless.

I set the recordings aside and tried to make myself fall asleep, the proving was not too far from now. I didn't train my whole life for it but rather, I just wanted to belong somewhere. Aloy is.....different, to her, the tribe means nothing but a means to know more of the world, she said it herself, she wishes to know why she was cast out and never once thought of the tribe in good light.

I had no sense of conflict in me, unlike Aloy, I liked to keep to myself and I ran away at the sight of the tribe members because I was afraid. I was afraid of how they would treat me but that sense of fear became a threat to me.

I learnt how to live on my own, I knew why it was that I was an outcast. My parents didn't want me, said that I would often act strange and I never understood why, till one day the matriarchs marked me an outcast and left me on my own. It was a little over 3 or 4 years ago, where I met Aloy, we grew close.

I never told Aloy, why I was cast away, I didn't want her to be burdened. I kept to myself but this time, with these songs I wanna let her know, all these withheld emotions are making me feel like I could rot from the inside. I am in a way excited for the proving.

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"Aloy! Watch out!"

'I didn't think it would come to this, no, please, stop this.'

"Stay where you are, I'll come to you, alright?!" She shouted but the sound of blasts had muffled all the sound around me. The proving was going well, with Aloy and I being named braves but the celebration was cut short when all of a sudden, intruders had marched in and openly attacked everyone on sight.

"Kill all of them, don't let anyone of them come out alive!" The invaders sounded.

I frantically grabbed my arrows and shot at a few of them, two had missed and the rest 4 had all landed a hit, killing them on contact.

"We can't hold them!"

Aloy had been covering for all the braves and took a stand at holding them down, I decided to let myself all out and help Aloy and guided the remaining to the exit but not many made it.

"I'll hold them down, go! Make it to the slip-wire! Vala! You go too, I'll cover!" I directed all of them, Vala looked reluctant but went on ahead. "There's more of them!" I heard Bast shout and I whipped my head and shot my arrows, this time, all of them landed.

Vala and Bast had got caught between the shots, I watched their bodies hit the floor and a look of dread had washed over Aloy but I could feel the anger that brewed within. She shot them down, all of them.

But it wasn't long before a man had grabbed her by the neck, and something in me snapped, all I saw was that Aloy was in danger. My body moved on its own and I had grabbed my dagger and drove it into the man's side, he screamed but he lifted his arm and thrust it to my gut, sending me straight to the ground.

Before I had lost my senses, I caught a glance at Aloy who had laid on the ground, at least, no longer choked by that man.

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"A-Aloy! You're awake! You're awake...Aloy..." It hadn't been too long since the attack but my injuries are far from okay but at that moment, all that mattered to me now was Aloy. She awoke but her face was pale and her breath, uneasy.

"No, no, no......ugh, I—I have to get out of here..." She clutched on to the side of her head. "Aloy, I'll gather your armour and Focus, just wait here, I'll co—"

She grabbed onto my hand locked her fingers around mine, her hands were shivering. "Aloy?"

"You're alive, I...I thought I lost you..too...." She whimpered, I crouched down and held on to her hands softly, "You can't take me out that easy." Slowly caressing the side of her face, I smiled meekly.

"Rost...he saved me...but."

"He didn't make it Aloy. I don't know what happened either, you'll have to talk to Teersa."

"Where are we?" Her feeble voice asked, "We're inside the sacred mountain, I'm not sure why, I was nursed outside the mountain, they didn't say much when I asked if I could see you." She nodded and slouched down. I went on ahead and brought in her focus, there was another focus with it but I just handed them all to her without questions.

I quietly left the mountains and waited outside for Aloy. It took a while but she came out with Teersa.

The two walked to the rest of the matriarchs, they were talking amongst themselves and it was then I heard that Aloy had been bestowed the mark of a seeker, Lansra did not take to highly of this decision and made some unwanted remarks to Aloy.

I glared at her, hoping that it would do something but she huffed and grunted, walking on just fine.

The rain had poured on harder with time, it felt like it was meant to weep but was choking instead, an odd feeling but that was how I had felt.

"Aloy, of the Nora? Or would you rather prefer, Aloy, a seeker from the Nora?" I tried to put a little lightness to the heavy air around. "I don't think I like either of them." She made a face at my names.

"Alright, then....Aha! Aloy.....despite the Nora?"

"That sounds better." She smiles wide. "Listen...I need to go, I need to find out who those killers were and why they came here, which means that I need to leave the sacred lands." Her smile drops and she looks at me apologetically.

"No no, you have more to worry about than me, it's alright, I can hold my own." I reassured her but her look of response was doubting all of it.

"Aloy, go, I know how much this means to you. I would only be a burden if you were to worry about me. I want you to go out of this place, I know you've always been curious about the lands beyond." There was so much I that I wanted to convey.

So much that I wanted to ask but I pinched myself to not do that.

"Before I go, I wanted to hear that song you wanted to let me listen to, at least let me hold on to that." She pleaded and held on to my clothes. "I-I don't know Aloy, right now, if I did that, I would appear more—"

"Here, you can just record it on my focus."

She removed her focus and placed it in my palm, I looked at the device and glanced back at her. I heaved a sigh and excused myself from the area.

'Am I seriously doing this now? Yes, c'mon me! You can do this!'

There goes my heart beating

'Cause you are the reason

I'm losing my sleep

Please come back now

There goes my mind racing

And you are the reason

That I'm still breathing

I'm hopeless now

I'd climb every mountain

And swim every ocean

Just to be with you

And fix what I've broken

Oh, 'cause I need you to see

That you are the reason

I started to cry at thought of having to let go of Aloy, she would be far off and I would be here, possibly just waiting. I wouldn't have the slightest clue where she would be, but I would hold strong, not only for her but for myself.

I won't have any more music files for me to explore so this was the last of all of them. Before I stopped recording, I quietly whispered, "I...I...love you, I love you Aloy and I hope you will be safe. I may or may not be here when you come back but if it weren't for you giving me a reason to be here, I would have never bothered going on with that life I had..."

"And I would have lost myself if it weren't for you."

At the familiar voice, that was none other than Aloy's, I had lost all reason and the shock had gotten me wailing silently.

"I'll be back, you are all that I look forward to when I return." She grabbed my face and pressed our foreheads together. "You sang well, I didn't know I meant that...much to you..." She whispered.

"You are the reason I'm even here. Come back safe, Aloy-despite the Nora." I clutched on to her clothes.

She placed a gentle kiss on my forehead and went on her way, she didn't turn back and I looked at her back, fading off.

'I'll be here, Aloy.....my Aloy.'

•END•

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Alright! Phew, that was done. I have never written a one-shot ever, I don't even know the word count cause I was just writing without thinking too much.

Anyway, it was more emotional in my head so I did cry a little but it's pretty meh on paper 😂

Aight, this distracted me from all the bs of the world, I hope it distracted some of y'all too.

[whitecrowapothecary]

Like A Dream

Jaskier has had dreams for as long as he could remember- of monsters and magic and all the things that go bump in the night. He dreams of golden eyes and silver swords and honeyed ballads. 

AKA the modern immortal/reincarnation AU no one asked for but I’m writing

Read it on AO3 here!

There’s music around him. Coming from him, his throat warm and honeyed with the lyrics he sings. Not him- the bard, the unknown man who captures his mind at night when he closes his eyes. He- they- are playing for an audience. Jaskier is used to this, the wayward looks, captured attention, but it’s… new. There’s an instrument in his hand he’s never learned to play and lyrics on his lips he’s never written, clothes resplendent of another time, another world, and he drinks it in with abandon. Full, flowing skirts, jackets made of the richest silk brocade in all colors, though all are muted compared to the bright, rich amethyst ensemble he seems to have donned for the performance.

He’s deep into his set, if he should call it that, singing about a fishmongers daughter just to get a laugh out of the crowd when his eyes catch on a small, insignificant detail. Jaskier sings and sways among the royalty around him, but all he can see is gold with flecks of amber, curious cat eyes watching him from the shadows. He takes a step closer, then two, then three until he’s propelling through the crowd, and just as a jaw covered in a neat snow white beard is unearthed from the shadows, a blare sounds, and the image shatters.

He gasps awake, clutching at his chest and trying to quell the shaking of his hands. Sweat sticks his hair to the back of his neck and his forehead in small curls which Jaskier rakes a hand through. On the nightstand, next to the bed, his phone vibrates, clanking softly against the wood until Jaskier scoops it up and hits answer. There are only a handful of people who will actually ring through.

“What, Pris?”

“Ah, woke you up huh? Touchy touchy. You haven’t forgotten about our brunch date, have you?” The voice on the other end is perky, far too awake for Jaskier’s liking right now.

“No, no of course not. You aren’t here yet, are you?” He slips from bed, grimacing and rummaging through his closet for something to wear, phone pinched between his ear and his shoulder.

“Almost, a block away.”

“Shit, okay, let yourself in?” The woman on the other end hums, amused, and Jaskier hangs up. Leave it to him to fail to set an alarm for something like this. He drags his sorry carcass into the bathroom, intent on getting a shower. He feels cold and sticky for all the wrong reasons, and when he looks at himself in the mirror the blue in his eyes is offset by the purple bags underneath. It’s… not an attractive look for himself. The hot water pounds against his back when he hops under the spray and he groans, letting it wash over him. Praying it’ll wash away the dream that seems to cling to him, digging at his bones and refusing to leave.

He’d had the dreams for as long as he could remember- at first they were nothing more than terrors, dreams of hideous, foul smelling creatures with sharp claws. Claws that regularly tore into the soft flesh of his belly, or the tender meat of his thigh, leaving him to wake up screaming and thrashing in bed. His parents, bless them, had tried everything to help, from heavy medication to therapy to a stint in a mental facility, but nothing took the monsters away. Medication only trapped him within his dreams, unable to wake up until he was well and thoroughly taken apart, and therapists only insisted the monsters were representations of some trauma he’d sustained as a child. The stay at the mental facility, well, that was more a break for his parents than thirteen year old Jaskier.

He’d learned to hide them, since then, to hold people at arms length and keep them from seeing what he truly was. The monsters rarely followed him into real life, but on the occasion he saw mention of a kikimore on the news, or a striga cropped up in Germany somewhere, well, it was all too easy to flip the channel and pretend. Now though… it was becoming harder and harder to leave his dreams behind when the sun came up. The dreams had shifted when he was almost eighteen, from monsters hunting and maiming him to something else- instruments and performances and gaudy, awful clothing he had no name for. Days spent walking and walking and walking, sweating under the sun but grinning like it didn’t bother whoever was in his dreams. It was harder still, to pretend that the performer in his dreams didn’t have his hands, his wonderful, skillful fingers, or the voice he’d spent years fine tuning.

He’s knocked from his reverie by the sound of his front door opening and clicking shut and the smell of food drifting in. His stomach growls loudly, protesting it’s current situation, and Jaskier hurries to finish his shower and get dressed. He’s got a towel in hand, scrubbing at his hair when he pads out barefoot and spots the blonde currently tinkering with his tv remote. Her blue eyes are bright, friendly, and she motions to the spread of food currently piled on his coffee table.

“Got you coffee.”

“Thank Melitele.” He makes a beeline for it, not caring the way it burns his tongue as he gulps it down. That draws a laugh from his companion, and he throws himself onto the couch, settling his legs across her lap and tossing his towel onto the chair nearby. He’ll get it later. “You’re a godsend, you know that Priscilla?”

A small smile plays on the woman’s lips, colored by rouge lipstick, and she raises a brow. “I do, but it’s nice to hear. Did you not sleep at all last night, Jaskier?”

“Ah, I’m afraid my muse kept me up, as usual.” He grins at her, reaching out to snag a strawberry from her plate before bending to get at the french toast on the coffee table. It smells absolutely divine, and maybe some food will make him feel more like himself and less like a shell of someone else.

“You really need to learn how to prioritize sleep.” Priscilla says, shaking her head fondly and digging into her eggs. He hums, half paying attention to the news on the screen. It’s nothing new, stocks going up and down, the latest in sports, and something about him, actually. Talking about his newest single that’s put him up in the top ten- Her Sweet Kiss. Jaskier clicks away before they can play the music, drawing a laugh from Priscilla. “You know, you never told me where the song came from.”

“Didn’t I? A whirlwind affair in Europe, during my last tour. She was… incredible, shall I say? Truly someone never forgotten.” He’s bullshitting and Priscilla knows it. The song had come to him, as most do now, in his dreams. Ringing through his ears in a voice so close to his he can feel his throat burning when he wakes up. She doesn’t press though- she knows better than to push Jaskier too far. The glassy, far away look he got when thinking about whatever it was that inspired his songs was sad, old, and lingered on Jaskier’s face the rest of the day. Jaskier focuses on eating now, barely tasting bite after bite and only stopping when his stomach is full. Priscilla does much the same, but she chatters through the melancholy.

Jaskier stops himself on a random show, listening to Priscilla but staring at the screen. It’s something nonsense, talking about old instruments, but his hand stops mid bite, the french toast falling back onto his plate with a wet smack. He stares, wide eyed, at the wide, oval bowl of the instrument and the short, sturdy neck. The strings, there are more than a guitar but not nearly enough- no, his had more. Six pairs, one singular. His?

“-ier? Jaskier, what is it?”

“What is that?” His voice sounds strange, words twisted faintly by an accent he’s never had before, and he sets his plate down as Priscilla looks between him and the tv.

“An instrument? You put on the show.”

“But what kind?” At this Priscilla frowns. She doesn’t seem to know either, and she shrugs reluctantly.

“We could ask Essi, I’m sure she knows more. Why, do you recognize it?”

“No.” He says softly, switching the tv off. He ignores Priscilla’s worried look and goes instead to put on socks and shoes, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on. It’s big, engulfs his frame, but there’s something about it he couldn’t get out of his head when he’d seen it in a thrift shop off of 28th. It’s also entirely too hot outside to need it, but he feels naked without it, and the hood will give him a better chance at remaining hidden. Not that that happens much anymore. Priscilla has the food cleaned up when he steps out of his room, and she swings her keys around her finger, lingering near the door.

“Where are we going today, my famous friend?” Jaskier rolls his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Anywhere but here. I think I’ll go mad if I hide in bed anymore.”

“That’s the spirit! There’s this new music store on Madison we could check out, and then that little bistro for a late lunch-” Her words fade from his ears as they merge into the crowd outside of his apartment building. He slips on sunglasses, nondescript ones he’d gotten from a random gas station, and prays that today he looks like anyone else. With Priscilla at his side, arm looped through his, no one pays much attention to the couple wandering down the street, chattering away. Jaskier feels a rush of gratitude for his friend, for the unwavering presence she is in his life. He’s not sure how he would have managed his budding fame without her, or handled being recognized everywhere once his face and name and music became more common knowledge.

“You’re the one who wrote the songs.” A rough voice reminds him, teasing.

“Yes, well, I didn’t expect them to break into my HOUSE for an autograph!”

“Get better doors. And a guard.” He drowns in those eyes, an endless pool of gold, and he reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair away, a smile stretching his lips wide.

“Why would I need anyone other than you?”

Jaskier stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk, pitching forward, and it’s only Priscilla next to him that keeps him standing. He rights himself, cheeks pink, and laughs despite his heart pounding in his chest.

“Ah, rather clumsy today. I probably should have had more coffee.”

“Or more sleep.” She counters, Jaskier laughing again and nodding in agreement. More sleep is definitely what he needs. A nice, dreamless sleep. Maybe if he gets that, he’ll be able to function like a human being again, instead of walking through the world with half a mind stuck firmly in fiction. The music shop is a quaint, cute little building tucked in a strip of other quaint buildings, and Jaskier ducks into the dim light of the shop. There are rows and rows of cds, vinyls, movies and more, and his eyes track along them all, taking in the sights and colors. There are plenty of instruments on the wall, guitars, basses, a couple of keyboards and a few sets of bongos even. There seems to be little rhyme or reason besides the alphabetical arrangement of the displays, and Jaskier spends his time wandering while Priscilla goes straight for the vinyls.

He’s near the back of the shop, by the counter when he spots an instrument on display behind the glass display. The sight is enough to make him freeze, and he stares at the smooth wood, the graceful curve of the instrument, finding that his fingers have begun to twitch. This can’t be a coincidence.

“Do you play?” A voice breaks through to him, and he has to blink a few times before he can focus on the man standing before him. His dark hair curls rather attractively, falling around his face and framing rather striking hazel eyes. Jaskier’s countenance sours immediately, and he squints suspiciously. It takes the man a moment, but he grins wide when he recognizes Jaskier. “Dandelion! A pleasure to have you here.”

“Valdo. This is your shop?”

“It is indeed, opened it up after my last album.” He’s proud, almost annoyingly so, but Jaskier begrudgingly has to admit the shop is rather nice. His eyes wander back to the instrument behind Valdo, and Valdo raises his brows. “You never said if you played. Would you like to hold it?”

“You’d let me?”

“I’ve seen how you care for your guitar. I’d warn you it’s expensive, but I know you’re good for any damages.” Jaskier snorts as the other man goes to grab the instrument, and his fingers drum against his thighs. “Do you even know what this is?”

“Not a clue.” Jaskier’s hands are reaching for it as soon as Valdo holds it out, and he tucks the strap around his body. The neck settles into his hands, fingers resting on the strings, and a line of tension holding his body razor tight snaps.

“It’s a-” The soft sound of Jaskier plucking out a melody stops Valdo short, and Jaskier closes his eyes to ward off the dizziness.

A fire crackles merrily in front of him as he plays, tinkering away at a tune with his notebook close by. He isn’t sure about the harmony of the piece, the way the notes blend together. There’s something missing, and he can’t figure out what it is. He stops with a heavy sigh, scrubbing at his face and wracking his brain.

“You’re missing the lowest note in the harmony.”

“Pardon?” He looks up, sees the sensual curve of a small smirk on a very ruggedly handsome face, and those eyes, always those eyes staring back. The man comes over, reeking of pine and metal and home, and reaches to softly pluck at one of the strings. The note rings out and Jaskier latches on.

“Try.” The man whispers, and Jaskier does, drawing the note into his harmony and grinning at the fully bodied life it brings.

Jaskier’s head is spinning when he finally opens his eyes again, Valdo staring at him with unabashed surprise. Priscilla is at his side, hand on his elbow to hold him steady, and he glances down at the familiar way in which his hands hold the lute. Because that’s what it is- his favorite instrument, the thing that made him coin and granted him fame and found him a-

Jaskier’s heart cracks in his chest, and his breath punches out of him in one big whoosh. He lifts the lute over his head, pressing it back into Valdo’s hands before turning to bolt out the front door of the shop. He doesn’t know where he’s going, merely that he has to get away, to find somewhere safe. He feels a thousand eyes on him, whispers following his frantic fleeing, and he ducks into an alleyway, hiding behind a trash can and pressing his back to the brick wall. There’s a stitch in his side from his frantic running and his hands won’t stop shaking as he rakes his fingers through his hair. The song rings through him, as fresh as the day it was written, and the lyrics come to him unbidden.

He’s crazy. He’s well and truly crazy, because there’s no way what he’s seeing can be real, but it’s so vividly him, buried so deep in his heart that there’s no way it could be fake either. His breath comes from him faster and faster, and tears blur his vision as he folds his knees up to his chest and rocks. Priscilla finds him that way, huddled in a ball amongst the trash, sobbing and muttering to himself, and she uses the large hood of his jacket to hide his face as she gets him home. Jaskier has calmed enough to get himself up the stairs when they manage to stumble their way back, and his chest aches from the pounding of his heart.

The tremor in his hands hasn’t abated yet, but the mug that’s pressed into his hands doesn’t shake, so he just enjoys the warmth that it brings him. Priscilla seems at a loss for words, but Jaskier knows what she wants to ask. “Just say it, Pris.”

“What happened? You haven’t been yourself all morning- first with the tv, and then the lute in the shop? Jaskier, I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I have dreams.” He says, voice so soft it’s almost lost in the sound of his heartbeat. “And lately, I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.”

Priscilla reaches out, touching his shoulder lightly, and her face is soft, sad. “They’re just dreams. What you do here, the music you make, that’s what’s real.”

Jaskier nods, but his heart is plummeting in his chest and he doesn’t know why. Priscilla’s words should be a comfort, someone rooted in his reality telling him that his dreams are just that- dreams. The result of an overactive imagination. That’s all they are, all they’ve ever been. Jaskier tries not to let the thought suck him down somewhere he doesn’t want to go, but it’s near impossible to fight the tide rising in him. “They’re just dreams.”

He takes a sip of his lukewarm drink to find that it’s tea- the stuff he usually drinks as a last resort before bed time. It’s never worked before, but Jaskier downs the rest of it and hopes that this time, it will. Priscilla waits until he’s finished to take the cup, and when she comes back she’s holding a very large, very lute shaped object in her hands. Jaskier frowns, confused, but takes it from her anyway, tracing fingers over the lacquered wood. It’s smooth and warm under his touch, and he finds himself picking at the strings just to hear the sound. “Valdo said that it was yours.”

“I didn’t pay him.”

“He knew you’d say that. He said, and I quote ‘I’ve only been holding it for him.’ Whatever that might mean.” Jaskier schools his features into careful indifference, trying not to let his discomfort show. What in the hell does he mean by that? He’s going to have to go back to the shop and talk to him to find out, but he’s not inclined to leave his apartment for the foreseeable future. Priscilla, sensing the mood has gone down, ruffles Jaskier’s hair and gives his shoulders a squeeze. “Take some time, Dandy, get some sleep, then come back.”

Jaskier makes a soft noise in his throat at the silly nickname, but it’s sweet and Jaskier has never told her to stop. He watches her duck out of the apartment with one last look his way, and once the door clicks shut, locking behind her, he grips the lute tighter. He hasn’t ever played formally- has never been trained, and while a guitar is similar, there’s more strings than ever and he expects to fumble.

He doesn’t.

His fingers know what to do even without his brain, and he hums along to the melody from before. Here, in the safety of his apartment, he plays and plays until the song is firmly committed to memory and he’s written down the lyrics to go along with it. A song about the monster of the wood, a cruel, hungry creature with the head of a deer, stalking him in the night.

“You need to listen to me-”

“I’m your barker, for better or worse. How can I bark if I never see anything?”

“You stay alive for a day longer.” His hands shake with anger, chest burning with it, and the man in front of him, golden eyes fierce and animal, glares back just as hotly. They’re nose to nose practically, and his head pounds in time with his heartbeat as his hands come up, shoving the man away and watching in shock as he goes.

“Go then. I’ll be here, tending your fire and watching your horse, as that is all I am good for.” He turns then, but a hand grabs at his arm, turning him around on his heel. He pulls against it, fights to be released, but Geralt’s hand bunches in his shirt above his heart and holds him. “Geralt-”

“For better or worse, Jaskier.” His eyes meet gold, molten and scalding, and he’s speechless at the sincere intensity in Geralt’s gaze. “I would rather it be better.”

“You don’t get to decide that-” Geralt cuts him off with a kiss, lips hard against his own. It’s awkward, a bit painful, but Jaskier tilts his head, pulls back a bit and Geralt responds in kind. He kisses, Jaskier decides, like a man who has been kissed not nearly enough, and he commits himself to fixing that immediately. Geralt’s grip loosens in Jaskier’s shirt, but Jaskier’s hand comes up to bury in snow white locks, keeping him close as his heart rockets into his throat.

The strings of the lute dig painfully into his fingers when he comes to, and he shakes himself, releasing his tight hold and groaning when blood rushes back into the pads of his fingers. He tucks the lute back away in its case, not wanting to look at the flowers painted onto the wood along its wide belly. He tells himself not to touch the lute, to leave it alone so that all this will go away, but the longer he sits on his couch, leg bouncing and tv on some awful movie the more his fingers itch to play.

Instead, he forces himself to get up, to pull out his vacuum and mop and cleaning supplies. He spends the afternoon scrubbing down every inch of the apartment, puts away his laundry, and even tidies up his desk, which is a rather artful disarray of papers. Some, like Priscilla, call it a mess, but Jaskier knows where each piece of paper goes, and he prefers it stays that way. Cleaning can only distract him for so long, and once the smell of lemon cleaner becomes too much he caves, grabbing the lute and ducking out onto his balcony.

The sun is beginning to descend on the city, and he allows it to warm his bones and loosen his muscles as he plays. Each song that comes from him is new and old and entirely his, each rich, resounding note a piece of him. The instrument is no more a stranger to him than his guitar, or his flute, or any of the other instruments he’s picked up and enjoyed along the way. Its weight, the feeling of the double strings pressing under his fingers is home to him, and he plays long after the sun is set. There’s a reckoning, a righteousness within this instrument that calls to the deepest parts of Jaskier’s soul, and he finds himself crying with no real reason as to why.

He cries silently, holding the lute close to him and staring out over the city. Cars rush past his building, far below, and somewhere nearby a dog barks. But it’s all background noise- it’s nothing compared to the harsh intake of his breath or the way that it shudders out of him. When he can’t stand it anymore he retreats back inside, leaving his lute on his dresser before stripping down and crawling into bed. There, buried under blankets and utterly, terribly alone, Jaskier closes his eyes and dreams.

“You’re alive.” A low, rough voice breathes behind him. He turns, but he already knows what will be waiting for him, and he can feel his face lighting up in a grin.

“Geralt! Of course I’m alive, how could the world bear to part with me just yet?” His heart jackrabbits in his chest at the sight of the man before him, clad as always, in dark armor and a stormy, conflicted expression. Well, the expression is new. The armor, not so much. He finds himself smiling for no real reason as to why, but Geralt’s face is open and honest and terrified, and he can’t keep from reaching out to gently touch his cheek.

“There were rumors- about a bard, having been murdered by a beast.”

“As if I could be harmed by a beast with you protecting me.”

“But I wasn’t.” Jaskier takes a step forward, cupping his witcher’s cheek and smiling when Geralt leans into the touch.

The dream dissolves as Jaskier shifts, drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness. The latter wins out, and his body drifts away while his mind slips again.

Blue eyes stare at him through the mirror. It isn’t a great mirror, small and cracked and woven with imperfections, but he won’t need it for long. He only needs to make sure his hair is presentable, his golden doublet unmarred by any stains, and that his smile, when shown just so, is as charming and delightful as always.

“You’re fussing.” Geralt says, and Jaskier knows, his heart knows that voice and the hand that slides over his hip better than anything. He finds himself leaning back against a strong chest, laughing and tipping his head back.

“Some of us care for our appearance before a performance.” An amused hum, and then lips on his neck, gentle and sweet, kissing a trail up toward Jaskier’s waiting lips. He sinks into the kiss, turning as Geralt’s arms come up and around him, careful not to crease Jaskier’s clothes.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Most of the night. You’re free to come, love. I’m sure they’d love to pester the White Wolf himself.”

“Mmm, pester is right.” The warmth in his chest is softer now, with no edges of anger, and he knows what this is. It’s love. Pure and unfettered by doubt.

That same warmth burns in his chest when he jerks up in bed, leaping from under the covers to run into his bathroom. The mirror he has now is perfect- gleaming with the fresh cleaning he’d done just today and showing his reflection without any defects. The same blue eyes stare back, sweeping over the same lips, the same cheekbones and nicely shaped jawbone. The same messy, tousled brown hair as the bard in the dream. As him . Whoever he was- is- is long gone- left behind in another life completely. That isn’t him anymore, it can’t be, but when he thinks, and thinks hard, they’re there. All the memories, the times in between his dreams. The first time he’d seen Geralt, sitting in the back of a tavern refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, to draw any unwanted attention to him. The feeling of his hair, so devoid of color, twisting around his fingers as he washed blood and viscera from them. His friends- Priscilla, in her blue and red ensemble with the poofy shorts, Essi, a near twin to Priscilla, only shorter and plumper. Valdo, his rival, the troubadour who writes songs without any meaning but somehow comes out on top.

Valdo.

Jaskier scrambles for his phone, dropping it twice before finally swiping open the screen. He has his number, more to make sure he never answers than anything, but now, now he needs it more than anything else. He hits dial without letting himself think, holding his phone to his ear and shifting nervously from foot to foot. The line rings and rings, and just as he thinks it'll go to voicemail he hears a soft click.

"Dandelion? It's nearly three in the morning, what could you-"

"I'm not crazy."

"Debatable." Valdo's voice is amused, but when Jaskier doesn't respond he quickly grows serious.

"You said you were keeping the lute for me." His words are rolling in his mouth, voice mangled by an accent that he can't seem to keep away or bring back. He hears a sharp intake of breath, and then a long, shuddering sigh.

"I was, Julian. For far, far too long. Meet me at the diner on Broadmoor." The line goes dead and Jaskier is left to get ready, a long, long dead name ringing in his ears.

                                                             -*-

There are three diners on Broadmoor. Jaskier curses his luck, but only one seems to have the lights on and so Jaskier heads that way first. He pulls on the door and is hit in the face by the smell of stale coffee and hash browns. He glances around, searching, and spots Valdo in a booth back in the corner. His face is drawn, hair a mess, but he has a cup of coffee waiting For Jaskier when he slides into the cheap plastic booth. Valdo slides the mug toward him and he clasps it in his hands, sniffing lightly. He debates putting sugar or cream in it, but he needs the caffeine too badly right now to care much about the bitter taste. Valdo watches his internal debate with a raised brow, leaning back in the booth and sighing.

“You remember.” Jaskier accuses, wincing at the way his tone sounds. Valdo takes it in stride, tilting his head in a small nod and sipping at his coffee.

“I always have. I didn’t know if you would this time around.”

“This time?” Valdo nods again, and Jaskier is quickly becoming frustrated by the non answers. “Valdo, what the fuck is going on?”

“Reincarnation. You’ve heard of it before, yes?” Jaskier nods, and Valdo continues on. “There are some of us who keep coming back. Not always with memories, not always whole. I seem to have no problem keeping them, but others like Priscilla, or Essi, or-”

“Are they really reincarnations?” Jaskier frowns- how much is it reincarnation if you’re just the same body without knowing if your consciousness is the same?

“I said that, didn’t I?” His glare is enough to set a house on fire, but Valdo doesn’t fold under the pressure, instead waving for menus to be brought over. “For decades I was unsure why. Why us? Nothing seemed to connect us together, just random strangers being brought through life. Until I found out you came along as well.”

“You’re saying that I’m the link?”

“You know us all, have some kind of connection. You are the one constant in each of our lives.”

“But the others, they don’t remember?”

“They never have.” Valdo orders something for the two of them, waving away Jaskier’s protest, and plows forward in his conversation. “You don’t always either. I’ve held that lute for the past two reincarnations, neither of which you retained memories for. But you remember now, or are beginning to.”

“Yes.” Jaskier’s voice is a whisper, and admitting it, saying that it’s real takes a weight off his shoulders he didn’t know he was carrying.

“Tell me how?” It’s phrased as a request, and Jaskier nods, staring at his coffee to try and ward off his tears.

“I was seventeen when my dreams started feeling real- performances or days on the road, nights spent stitching wounds or bandaging cuts. Lately they’ve-”

“Been bleeding into your waking hours. Like when you played in the shop.” Valdo’s interrupting makes irritation flare in the back of his mind, but he tamps it down. He’s only trying to help, and is filling in more details than Jaskier would have gotten on his own. Their food comes then, and Jaskier watches as some kind of breakfast scramble is placed in front of him. It’s heavy with hashbrowns, eggs, bacon and cheese. It looks awful. Jaskier digs in hungrily, groaning at the heavenly taste- shitty overnight diners always have the best food. They eat their food in relative silence, too hungry and tired to care much to continue with something else in front of them.

This all seems fake, too good to be real. Valdo’s instant reassurance of what he’s feeling, what he’s dreaming, it has to be some kind of con, some way to get dirt on him. He expects the other man to laugh any minute, to call him crazy and tell him he needs serious help. He’s waiting for a punchline that isn’t coming, and it makes him anstier and anstier by the second. It explains so much- the old, old memories he has of a time before electricity, or running water, of nobles and peasants and monsters. Of witchers and sorceresses and bards. There are newer memories too- of him in a diner much like this, sitting across from a man with white hair and shining golden eyes. Of dancing in a club to his own music, standing alongside all the others in a rally, holding a sign protesting the inequality that ruins his life while cameras show his face. Through it all, his companion is there- a silent, steady presence.

“There’s- a man. Who I am desperately in love with, no matter who I am.”

“Your witcher. White hair, cat eyes?” He doesn’t need to nod for Valdo to know the answer, and he grins. “His name is Geralt of Rivia, though Rivia is long gone now.”

“Is he…”

“Alive? Of course. They, unlike us, do not die.”

“They?” He doesn’t even get a chance to let Valdo talk, his vision going blurry and ears ringing.

“C’mere asshole!” Jaskier laughs, darting away from the witcher intent on catching him. It isn’t Geralt- his hair is dark and cropped short, voice smoother, less gravelly. He’s also much, much more expressive.

“Catch me if you can!” His lungs hurt from running and laughing so much, and he squeaks as hands grab the back of his doublet and yank him to a stop. Jaskier squirms as arms wrap around him, and he pouts, letting himself go deadweight. “You aren’t supposed to use your witchery powers, you know.”

“Oops.” He’s let go then, and Jaskier shoves the other man lightly, grinning.

“Ass. Maybe I’ll go find Eskel, at least he follows the rules of the game.”

“Rules are for peasants.”

“Then you should fit right in, Lambert.” He dodges a swat to the back of the head, laughing and disappearing further into the keep.

Valdo is staring at him expectantly when he blinks, the stone walls and cold breeze fading away from his mind. His food is lukewarm in front of him, and he takes a big bite just to avoid having to say anything yet. Valdo is too smug for his own good though, and he sits forward, grinning.

“Jogged your memory, eh?”

“Shut up.” His insufferable grin only grows bigger, and Jaskier wants to smack it off his face or strangle him. Either would work, honestly. “Is there some way to contact him, or any of them?”

“Not unless you’re a government official, or happen to know someone who had a pest problem. But, there is something that might work.”

“What?”

“Your songs. I'm sure you've already written new ones with the lute- release them in an album. If they’re listening, which is near impossible not to with your reputation, they’ll find you .”

“What if they don’t?”

“Then I suppose you’ll have to bed a government agent.” Jaskier scoffs, wrinkling his nose, but Valdo wags his eyebrows and he can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from his chest. He falls into silence then, staring down at the rest of his food, and his voice is soft when he finally finds the courage to speak.

“Thank you. For keeping it safe.” When he glances up, Valdo’s eyes are bright, shining with relief.

                                                             -*-

Jaskier does what he does best- he writes a few songs, then writes a few more, until he’s bursting with music and lyrics and ideas. He gets himself into his studio and doesn’t leave until he’s recorded an entire album, with his lute being the main focus. It brings with it a new, exciting kind of charm that his producers eat right up, a kind of mystical energy that isn’t present in any of Jaskier’s other songs.

It’s also a release- he lets go of the monsters that haunted him, bringing them roaring into his music instead and letting them run wild. His dreams are still plagued by memories, but the more he plays, the more he tries to remember, the easier it gets. Turns out when you stop fighting against a piece of yourself, letting it in is much, much easier. The music videos are his favorite part of the whole process- he crafts one specific to each song, embedding as much of a message as he can in the hopes that one of the witcher’s will see. Will see him and know him, and extend a hand.

He tries to look up the witchers, to see if there’s any kind of way to find them online, but Lambert is too common a name and he has no clue what last name he would use, if any. Eskel’s name yields less results, but still too many for him to narrow down, and he’s left back at square one for them. Geralt’s name? Now that pulls up results.

‘ The witcher, most formally known as Geralt of Rivia, is one of the world’s only practicing monster slayers, and a bit of a recluse. He was last spotted hunting some kind of sea serpent along the mediterranean, and then boarded a plane bound for America.’

‘Geralt of Rivia, White Wolf, was allegedly seen decapitating a local woman at a train station in France. When questioned by police, they were informed that the woman was a bruxa who had been preying on locals. Mr. Rivia was released without further incident.’

That article makes Jaskier laugh, and he prints it out to tack above his desk on his cork board. Leave it to Geralt to scare everyone around him while doing his job. Any article related to Geralt gets its spot on the board, actually and he’s fairly certain he looks like a stalker, but they’re his only glimpse into what Geralt has been up to. It makes the pain easier to handle, knowing he’s just been too busy to seek Jaskier out, and certainly not ignoring the neon signs that are his music. Half of them are Geralt’s exploits, after all, and if he doesn’t recognize them then Jaskier has failed to faithfully recreate them.

But the songs work- somewhat. In a small town somewhere in the midwest, a witcher hears Jaskier’s music, and begins to hunt for his white haired brother.

Jaskier, in the meantime goes about his life, bouncing from interview to interview, one of which he’s in now. The chair is somewhat uncomfortable and the lights are a little too bright, but the woman interviewing him is new, nervous, and he does his best to put her at ease.

“You’re doing great, love. What were you saying?”

The woman blushes, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before asking again. “Your newest album, it pulls away from the bouncier, lighter tone of your second album. Why?”

“Good question. Writing fun music is wonderful, lovely, but I, and I’m sure you’ll be surprised, have my own fears. Monsters that haunt my dreams, who begged to be put into song.”

“So the songs are based on dreams?”

“Now you’re catching on.” Jaskier winks, drawing another giggle from her, and he leans back in his chair, tilting his head. “No one can tell me they don’t dream of dark and twisted things sometimes. Of wanting a knight in shining armor to come save them.”

“That’s an incredible way to put it. Are any of the monsters in your songs real?”

“Oh yes. The leshy, or leshen is a forest spirit that is said to roam the deepest parts of a forest. There are also ghouls, terrible hunchback creatures who stalk battlefields, and basilisks, large winged creatures with iridescent scales and scalding breath.”

He sees his interviewer shudder, and his gaze goes soft, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “Where did you hear about these monsters?”

“From a friend, years ago.”

"Do you still talk to them?"

Jaskier's eyes find the camera, and it's a terrible cliche to spike the lens, but he does it anyway. "We lost contact a while back. I'm hoping that… through my music, I can find him again."

"Well, I'm sure your fanbase can help!"

"That they can." Jaskier grins, glancing back at the interviewer, and he hears someone yell cut behind them. He stands, shaking her hand and giving her a quick hug. He murmurs a few words of encouragement, and when he ducks into the room they've designated for him he tells his producer to send her something. Flowers or a gift or anything. She handled him like a champ. It's thankfully his last interview of the day, and he grabs his lute, which he brought just in case before ducking out the door. He makes his escape from the building out onto the street with relative ease, slinging his lute across his back to navigate the crowds easier. The amount of times he’s had to refuse security before they learned was more than he could count. He's stopped a few times by fans, asking to take pictures, and he glances at them on his phone once his Twitter dings.

@dandelion stopped and took a picture! Best day ever!

The rest of the post is filled with heart eye emojis and hashtags, but Jaskier stares at the photo. The awful stripes and swirls on his button up are reminiscent of a bowling alley floor, but his jeans are cute and his boots top the whole outfit off. He thought it'd looked cute when he put it on, and is pleased to see that others agree. He looks better in general- the bags under his eyes are all but gone and there's a confidence in the set of his shoulders he hadn't noticed before. Like knowing who he is has completed a puzzle he didn't know he'd lost a piece to.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket as he skips down the steps to the subway, whistling merrily the whole time. The public transportation in the city had to be his favorite thing in the world, aside from jelly donuts and Geralt's eyes. It makes going from place to place a snap, and he doesn't have to constantly tell people he can't drive when they ask where his car is. The train is running a minute behind, as usual, but Jaskier books it down the rest of the stairs and through the turnstile, jogging up just as the doors slide open. People file on quickly, taking their seats, and Jaskier moves to step on when he spots snow white hair.

That in itself isn't unusual- plenty of old people ride the subway, but it's a man who looks no older than his mid thirties. He's dressed in all black, jeans and a heavy sweater, and strapped to his back are twin swords, their pommels shining dully in the fluorescent lights of the train. A duffle bag hangs from one shoulder, nondescript, but a pale, scarred hand hovers over it protectively. Jaskier is aware he's staring, holding up the train, but his feet are rooted firmly in place as his head begins to pound. The man- Geralt- irritated by the lack of movement turns to see what's going on, golden cat eyes cold and hard. The sight sends vertigo crashing through Jaskier so wildly that he feels his knees give out, and his vision blurs as he collapses onto the ground.

                                                      -*-

"No, no. He's fine. Don't hold the train for us." A voice, rough and low and heavenly drifts through his consciousness and he groans, burying his face in a warm, nicely toned chest. Strong arms wrap around him, holding him, and he sinks into the embrace without really thinking. When he moves the arms tighten around him, holding him closer, and he finally rouses.

He cracks an eye open to see an officer in front of them, debating with Geralt about getting him medical care, and he groans, sitting up and plastering his best smile on his face.

"Sorry love, my sugar dropped again. Was I out long?" The officer stops when he speaks, and Jaskier tilts his head curiously. "Tell me you didn't call them, you know I don't want the attention."

He looks up at Geralt, false frown on his face, and Geralt shakes his head. "Another passenger. I told them you were fine."

"That I am! I'm very sorry for the confusion, I just got off of a rather long interview and was a bit hungrier than I expected." The officer looks between them, brows furrowed, but tucks his notepad away and nods reluctantly.

"If you're sure you'll be alright."

"Feeling loads better already! Sorry again Officer!" Jaskier watches until the officer leaves the platform, and then shoves his way out of Geralt's arms. Geralt lets him go without a fight, sitting on the bench and watching as Jaskier paces the length of the platform, ranting. He's speaking in a language he knows but doesn't know, but it's better than letting everyone else hear him.

" I dreamt about you for years! Years, and the first thing I do is pass out when I see your goddamn face. Son of a bitch." Jaskier glares accusingly at him, but the corners of Geralt's mouth tug up in a smirk and Jaskier can feel his heart going a mile a minute. " I could have broken my lute, or-or been cut in half by the doors all because you were on the subway you big old insufferable-"

" You dreamt about me." Geralt's voice is soft, fond, and Jaskier loves and hates the way his voice curls around elder speech. " Jask, I didn't know you'd come back."

" Didn't- didn't KNOW? I am, and I am going to brag here, insanely famous, Geralt. Like on the news famous. How in the WORLD did you not know?"

" I don't watch the news."

"Of course you don't- of course I would get the one witcher in the whole wide world who doesn't watch the news ." He's cut back into English at some point, and he stops, fists clenched as Geralt stands up with his palms out. It's something he's seen Geralt do with Roach a thousand times when she's being antsy, and it drives him up the wall. "I am not a horse , Geralt, I am your fucking barker."

"You're acting more like my horse right now." Geralt is close enough now Jaskier can smell the soft cologne he's wearing, and his knees go weak again with the fact that he's actually here.

"You jackass -" Jaskier launches forward, throwing his arms around Geralt's neck and pulling him down to kiss him senseless. Geralt takes it in stride, scooping Jaskier off his feet and spinning with the momentum. He's careful of Jaskier's lute, but his hands are strong and firm as Jaskier is thoroughly crushed to his chest, held so tight that neither of them seem to be breathing. Jaskier doesn't care- his feet are off the ground completely, a fistful of white hair in his hands again and Geralt's lips on his. He has a beard, neat and taken care of, and Jaskier's other hand slips down to cup the side of Geralt's neck, thumb brushing through the coarse fibers.

Geralt is the first to pull away, Jaskier tipping forward blindly to kiss him again, huffing when Geralt smiles and bumps their noses together.

"Train is coming. As much as I've missed this, I'd rather not miss the next one."

"Tell me you aren't leaving me." Jaskier presses their foreheads together, eyes closed to keep any potential tears at bay. “Please.”

“I have to check into my hotel.”

“Geralt of Rivia, if you think for one minute you aren’t coming home to sleep in my bed you’re a fool. Fuck your hotel room.”

“It has a jacuzzi.” Geralt laughs when Jaskier pulls back to glare, and Geralt holds onto Jaskier’s  hand, guiding them through the throng of people and onto the train. Geralt motions towards a seat, but Jaskier stays plastered resolutely to his side and just rests his head against Geralt's shoulder. He sways with the movement of the train, but Geralt’s arm is around his hip, holding him steady as the train goes around a curve and slows a bit. He feels more at peace with Geralt next to him than he has in years, and he’s drifted off to sleep when Geralt moves just a bit, dipping down to whisper in his ear. Elder speech brushes against him, trailing down his spine, and his eyelids flutter as he leans in to hear him better.

“What stop do we get off at, Jaskier?”

And oh, if hearing his name from Geralt’s lips isn’t sublime. “Two more.”

“ You were asleep.” Jaskier chuckles softly, turning his head and kissing him lightly.

“ I’ve lived here for years. I know how long I have.”   His elder isn’t nearly as pretty or fluid as Geralt’s but he seems to enjoy it all the same, pupils widening at the sound, the sight of Jaskier’s lips moving. He feels like prey being hunted and he loves it. True to his words, two stops later Jaskier is the one to lead them off the train and up the many, many stairs to the street above. His hand never leaves Geralt’s, afraid that if he lets go the man will disappear into the crowd and leave him alone again. His apartment building isn’t far from the station, and he has to pass through three different checkpoints before he’s even flagged into the building. All of the security guards eye Geralt with barely hidden suspicion, but Jaskier is either oblivious or doesn’t care. The hot, possessive kiss that Jaskier pulls Geralt into while waiting for the elevator is answer enough.

Jaskier’s head is spinning again by the time they make it to his door, and he sags against it, panting lightly and trying to get his key in the lock. Geralt’s hand comes up, guiding the key in as he stands just close enough for Jaskier to be intimately aware of every inch of him. Jaskier gasps, shakes against the door and finally manages to shove it open. He hurries into the room, past the kitchen and into the living room. His lute is slung onto the cushions gently just as his knees give out again, and he catches himself on the arm of the couch, Geralt at his side a moment later.

He can’t feel his legs- he really, really can’t feel his legs, and he isn’t sure that it should seem like such a good thing. Geralt is a hard, hot presence between his thighs, and he arches up into Geralt’s touch, whimpering his name. He wants, he wants so desperately and he feels like he could fall apart at any moment, his breaths coming faster and faster as Geralt grins down, at him teeth sharp and glistening and begging to be buried in flesh. He reaches up, brings him down and kisses him, lapping into his mouth just to taste and let a fang scrape against his tongue.

His chest is heaving when he blinks from his memory, and oh, oh he’s embarrassingly, frustratingly hard. How in the hell does he explain something like this? His knees smart from where they’ve hit the floor and he pitches himself forward, out of Geralt’s surprised hands, his palms slapping against the wood of his floor as he pants. It’s better than letting Geralt see him, worked up over nothing. But he doesn’t get the chance to even think of a lie- he hears Geralt’s sharp intake of breath, the soft huff of a stunned laugh. Geralt is on his knees next to him before he can move, lips on his neck and teeth digging just so into the pale, unmarked flesh. Jaskier keens without meaning to, the noise spilling from his lips, and his cheeks flush when Geralt makes a triumphant noise, pulling back and using a hand on the small of Jaskier’s back make him sit back.

“If you say anything smart, Geralt, I will throw you off my balcony.”

“You don’t have to hide from me.” Is all he says instead, and he takes Jaskier’s hands, guiding him to sit on the couch while he takes care of Jaskier’s lute. Jaskier watches, knees pressed to his chest to hide his slowly dwindling erection as Geralt hunts around his apartment, breathing deep and seeming pleased at what he finds. He lingers briefly by the bedroom door, but seems to think better about exploring there just yet. Instead he reaches up, undoing the clasp across his chest and letting his swords slide from his back. He places them on the coffee table and pulls his sweater up and over his head. Jaskier watches it all, eyes wide, and he jumps as the sweater is tossed at him. He catches it with only a minor fumble, pressing it to his face and breathing deep.

He can almost feel the growl that rumbles through Geralt at the sight, and he grins, toothy and bright, sniffing again. It’s easy to lose his train of thought at the sight of Geralt- Modern clothes suit him well, from the cut of his jeans to the way his t-shirt shows off the rather lovely shoulder to hip ratio he has. Practically perfect. What really arouses him, and this shouldn’t ever be admitted out loud, is the amount of weapons Geralt has on him. There are two pistols tucked into sheathes under his arms against his sides, at least two knives tucked into each boot, not to mention the swords he’s already discarded.

“How do you draw the pistols with your sweater on?”

“I don’t.” Geralt’s voice is amused, and he reaches to unbuckle the leather harness, silver rings glittering along his fingers. There are no fingers that are bare of rings, whether they’re smooth, simple bands or ones studded in small spikes. It’s… ridiculously attractive and Jaskier fears for his heart at this rate. The holsters slip off of his shoulders and they too are left on the table with his swords, though he doesn’t go for the daggers in his boots at all. “You’re staring.”

“I’m allowed to.” He breathes out, reaching a hand out as Geralt pads over. His fingers splay against Geralt’s chest as the older man leans down, kissing him slowly, the warm metal of his rings sliding across Jaskier's cheek. Jaskier shivers at the sensation, making a soft noise as he stretches up further to try and get closer. Geralt pulls back too soon, always too soon, and Jaskier groans with disappointment.

“Tell me what happened when we came in.”

“Do we really have to talk about that now?” Geralt leans back, eyes searching his face, and Jaskier sighs dramatically, tugging Geralt to sit next to him on the couch so he can lean against his chest. "I wasn't born with my memories. I had- it feels stupid to repeat this all- I had night terrors as a child."

"Of monsters." Jaskier nods, pressing Geralt's sweater to his face and speaking through the fabric.

"Particularly of me being eaten by them. When I got older, graduated high school, they shifted focus. They showed me, or the bard I thought was haunting my dreams, following you, performing at a banquet, being chased by a farmer's husband. Within the past few months they got worse. They slipped into my daydreams, took them over, until I could hardly go outside without seeing something that would set them off."

"Is that what happened on the platform?" Jaskier shakes his head, sighing.

"I don't know what that was- a reaction to seeing you again, after only seeing you in dreams maybe? All I remember is getting hit by the worst vertigo I've ever felt, and then I was waking up in your arms. This last time- I'm not sure. I really don't want to keep collapsing though, my knees won't be able to take it."

His joke is weak but Geralt chuckles anyway, pressing his nose into Jaskier's hair. "I'll get you kneepads."

"My hero." He feels a rumble go through Geralt's chest and that brings a smile to his face. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Tell me about you, what you've been doing. I, for one, have been struggling with my memories and made it as a musician. But you, last of the witchers, are impossible to find info on."

"How do you know I'm the last?"

"Internet speculation. Don't worm your way out of this." Geralt sighs heavily, shaking his head and muttering to himself before Jaskier turns and plops himself into Geralt's lap so Geralt has to look at him.

"Eskel and Lambert retired a few years ago. Contracts are few and far between."

"What do you do then when you aren't fighting monsters?"

"I… Translate." Jaskier doesn't think he's heard right, and he tilts his head.

"Pardon? Was my very sexy boyfriend about to tell me something even sexier?" Geralt raises a brow at the word boyfriend, but Jaskier can see that he's pleased by the automatic assumption that they're together. Like they were never apart at all.

"I interpret. Mostly for doctors offices or business meetings. I'm occasionally called to the field when researchers need help."

"What languages?" Geralt doesn't say anything, cheeks flushing a faint pink instead. Jaskier grins then, pleased as all get out, and he leans forward, bumping their noses together and watching the way Geralt's pupils open wider at the contact. "What languages, Geralt?"

"There- aren't many I don't know."

"Someone's been busy."

"I had time. And language barriers make hunting harder." Jaskier laughs at the defensive tone to Geralt's voice, leaning their foreheads together and laughing until Geralt kisses him to shut him up. And even then he giggles against Geralt's lips, wiggling when Geralt tickles at his ribs.

"No wonder your elder is good." Geralt huffs out a laugh, shaking his head and leaning back so he can look at Jaskier, gaze sweeping over Jaskier's face slowly.

"My brothers and I are the only ones fluent."

"In the world?"

"There are small elven communities hidden around, but other than that, yes."

"Where are your brothers?"

"Somewhere in the midwest." Geralt says it with a shrug, as if it isn't a big deal. "They move frequently."

"Too used to being on the Path." Jaskier muses, though it's truer than he might realize. “What about you, where do you settle?”

“I don’t.” Jaskier tilts his head, thinking about that. He isn’t sure why Geralt would ever settle down, since he’s the last witcher active apparently. It would make sense for him not to have any place to call home, but the thought bothers him. A lot more than it should.

“You have a home here, if you want it.” He whispers, heart in his throat, and Geralt’s whole demeanor softens. His eyes look more amber in the setting sun coming through his balcony, and Jaskier leans forward, lips brushing Geralt’s at the same time his phone rings. He groans, intent to ignore it, but Geralt’s fingers dip into Jaskier’s back pocket to pull it out. He hits answer, holding the phone up to Jaskier’s ear as he glares.

“Jaskier, who the fuck are you kissing?”

“Hello Priscilla, nice to see you again, I’ve been just dandy since we last saw each other.” Jaskier takes the phone from Geralt, pressing it to his ear on his own.

“Jaskier, Twitter is in an uproar, there are pictures everywhere.”

“Naughty pictures?” Jaskier puts the phone on speaker while he moves over to Twitter, scrolling through the thousands of tags he’s gotten in the past two hours alone. They’re all the same picture, which Jaskier saves immediately, some better quality than others. There’s him in his bowling alley button up, held aloft in Geralt’s arms, kissing him senseless. It’s a rather artistic photo, the contrast between his bright colors and lute and Geralt’s stiff black clothing and threatening swords. “Ah.”

“That’s all you have to say? You haven’t seriously dated anyone since high school and that's what you say?” Priscilla is pissed, rightfully so, and Jaskier winces.

“Look it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, I just-”

“I asked him not to.” Jaskier can hear the sharp intake of breath over the phone from Priscilla when Geralt talks, and she’s much more pleasant this time when she speaks. Traitor.

“Oh. And you are?”

“Geralt.”

“And where are you from, Geralt? How long have you been dating my best friend?” He sees Geralt’s lips quirk in a smile, and he rolls his eyes, letting Geralt do the talking. At least that way he isn’t getting yelled at.

“Rivia. We’ve been seeing each other for a few years now, I would say.” Jaskier snorts at the lie, except well- it isn’t really a lie. They’ve been together for years and years over entire lifetimes.

“Rivia?” A distant quality overtakes her voice, and Jaskier winces, clapping a hand over his ear as Priscilla squeals. “Jaskier, please tell me you aren’t dating Geralt of Rivia.”

“Uh.” Geralt’s lips twitch upward as he raises a brow at Jaskier’s hesitation, but Priscilla is laughing, wheezing out little breaths, and Jaskier waits for her to calm down before he answers. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no it’s just unbelievable.”

“Hey!” There’s offense in Jaskier’s tone, and Geralt’s hand rests on his hip, squeezing lightly. Jaskier shudders at the touch, scowling, but his witcher is the picture of innocence. “I guess the cats out of the bag, eh love?”

“Mhm.” Gods Jaskier has missed those little sounds, the answers but not answers.

“You have to say something on Twitter before your fans break the site. And introduce us properly.”  

“Right, right. Dinner okay?”

“Only if I get to pick the place.”

“Deal. I’ll call you later, okay?” Priscilla gives an affirmative and hangs up, Jaskier tilting his head at Geralt with his brows raised. “So, Geralt of Rivia, ready to be official with a popstar?”

“Not really. But with you? I’ll manage.” Jaskier rolls his eyes, moving to tuck himself against Geralt’s side. Geralt’s arm snakes around him, hugging him a bit closer as Jaskier raises his phone.

“Say cheese!” He grins wide, waiting until Geralt isn’t glaring to snap the photo. It’s a good one, Geralt’s eyes liquid and warm, the corners of his mouth tilted up in the smallest of smiles. It’s definitely going to be his wallpaper. Jaskier posts it onto Twitter with a simple caption.

My knight in shining armor.

[goodbysunball]

Bring it on home

Comparatively easy listening from the set of records showcased this time around, but there's a world of grief settin' your jaw to grind. You deserve a neck massage and a cocktail; lean into these after you put your misery rectangle aside for a spell.

Astute Palate, s/t (Petty Bunco)

Emily Robb, David Nance, Daniel Provenzano, and Richie Charles got together and hammered out this LP during "48 sleepless hours" in Philadelphia. It's definitely a fairly rough documentation, but if you know the players, that's generally what you'd be gettin' into with 'em anyway. Gotta admit that I'm not a huge fan of what I've heard by David Nance - respect his hustle, though - and the same goes for the tracks he leads here; in particular, the studied classic rock caterwaul employed on "Stall Out" basically rolls my eyes for me. I am, however, fond of David Nance the Guitarist and his heroics on "Stall Out," and "A Little Proof" definitely has me more curious about his recent solo work I've skipped. These are pithy grievances, though: the album rules, as a whole, but it's just hard to stomach some of Nance's lyrics when they're side-by-side with bonafide jammers like "Bring It On Home" and "Treadin' Schuylkill." "Bring It On Home," in particular, with its Velvets-inspired chug and Robb's bleary vocals coolly beckoning you to do as the title says, heats to a boil with the blustery, fried guitar interplay. For me it wipes the floor with anything else on the album, and pretty much anything else I'll hear this year, so let's put all my petty complaints aside and declare this the Summer of Astute Palate, OK? Looks like the secret's out - the LP's sold out from the source, but can be found hiding in various distros and shops. Hunt it down, crack a tallboy, and embrace the sweltering heat of our melting planet with Astute Palate.

Maraudeur, Puissance 4 (self-released)

New and best LP yet from Leipzig's Maraudeur, self-released with some of the best packaging/artwork I've seen in a minute. My memory's usually a bit faulty, but I recall the band being a three-piece on their last, still very good LP from Bruit Direct Disques. I'm inclined to think that the group's ranks have swelled to five anyway, since the sound here is a bit more bright and full, lots of different moving parts zipping and moving around, giving the crisp recording some effervescence. Compared to older songs like "Computer Dreams," Maraudeur sounds sharper, capable of backing up any threats rather than coming across as deflated and listless. Even the slower songs on Puissance 4, such as "Slow Dress," thrive on tension, guitar strings set to snap amidst the robotic/hypnotic vocals. The band seems to have located a sweet spot between the simmering minimalism of Household and the technologically damaged vision of Chrome, and "TWYWYS" basically sounds like a collaboration between the two groups. Guitars are used as window dressing, favoring instead synths and showcasing the chops of the rhythm section. "Face/Figure" and my favorite track "C'est Caché" are the best examples of Maraudeur's rhythmic foundation, but nearly every track causes inadvertent head bobbing. While accessible and familiar on the surface, Maraudeur's dry humor, the carefully camouflaged layers of sound, and whatever is going on in "I Am Here" keep boilerplate post-punk comparisons at bay. Puissance 4 is a refreshing, addictive brew from the not-too distant future, and probably a blast to experience live.

Astrid Øster Mortensen, Gro Mig En Blomst (Förlag För Fri Musik)

New Gothenburg talent alert! Mortensen is apparently a newcomer to the scene, and her debut LP fits in nicely amongst the Förlag För Fri Musik discography. Gro Mig En Blomst features lonely and debased late-night solo explorations with guitar, piano and what sounds like an accordion, accented by electronic manipulations and the found sound that accompanies most FFFM records. It's dreary and stark, and can quickly bring the mood down when it's on. For me the most obvious reference point is Grouper's Ruins, in that both are recordings so intimate that it feels like an interruption to move while it's on. But I also get bits of Picastro's Whore Luck ("Hvor Kommer Mørket Fra?" sounds like it was plucked directly from that album), and there are similarities to Chloe Alison Escott's solo work, on the title track and "Piano i" and "Piano ii." Gro Mig En Blomst is a far cry from more traditional singer-songwriter music, dabbling in Stars of the Lid-like drone on "Brud ii" and jumping into the "Is there a record on or...?" genre on "Solen Er Et Lille Hus" and "Brud i." I can't say I go out looking for records this fragile and surface-level bleak anymore, but Mortensen's work is more often beautiful and calming than hopelessly gray. Another keeper from FFFM, sure to be one of the most sought-after records from the label, and for good reason.

Nightshift, Zöe (Trouble In Mind)

Travel back in time with me, if you will, to a time when "indie rock" was a genre label that had some meaning. After getting rid of the bad taste in my mouth and shaking off the embarrassment at who I was when I largely listened to stuff that'd broadly fall under that label, I'll allow that Nightshift is making a strong argument for some of the music released during the comparative naiveté of the late '00s/early '10s. Across Zöe, you get shades of Broadcast, Lower Dens' Twin-Hand Movement, the UV Race ("Spray Paint the Bridge"), Belle & Sebastian and A Sunny Day In Glasgow ("Power Cut" and "Romantic Mud"). The trick to Zöe is that it folds all these reference points in neatly and places it on a sturdy percussive base. I won't argue that every song here is memorable, but they're all enjoyable, and the songs that hit - "Outta Space," the title track, "Infinity Winner" - send chills down my spine every time. Guitars are plucked and scraped for leading beats, accentuating shuffling drums and giving the bass the spotlight. The vocals are dreamy and lyrics direct, and for the duration of Zöe you're relieved of the pessimistic present and allowed to rigidly dance to Nightshift's hesitant groove. They've charmed their way through my cynicism, and Zöe's been on heavy rotation despite my reluctance. Take it for a spin, and fall under Nightshift's spell.

Hugo Randulv, Radio Arktis: Samlade Ljud Från Den Norra Polcirkeln (Förlag För Fri Musik)

First solo LP from Hugo Randulv, an active presence in the Gothenburg scene with his involvement in Enhet För Fri Musik, Skiftande Enheter and Amateur Hour, among others. Though typically a guitarist, on Radio Arktis, he drops the guitar and instead fills both sides with glacial synths and dusty samples. The label's original write-up for this record called it "grand ambient," though to me it sounds and feels much more personal than something that would soundtrack the Olympics. His use of samples, most notably on "Radio Reykjavik," sounds intimately tied with some fleeting memory, the music serving to enhance or exorcise the feeling tied to it all. It reminds me most of the Fun Years' "God Was Like, No" in that both records used the tools common to ambient/drone music but applied a much more personal touch, that certain nameless attribute that keeps drawing a listener back in. Can't put my finger on it, but both records just sound like they had to be made, rather than serving as a genre exercise or one-off exploration. I don't know that Radio Arktis is going to change anyone's life, but it could, and I've been hypnotized by its wordless, sparkling gray tones for weeks. Even though the "solo musician embraces synths" thing is usually pretty tired and pointless, Hugo Randulv's contribution shows why it's an alluring proposition at all.

Sunhiilow, Beyond the Cycle (Ikuisuus)

More solo synth, this time coming from Valerie Magisson and her Moog Mother-32. Magisson's Sunhiilow project veers into new age/ambient with its bite-sized kosmische explorations. There's something about the combination of the short length of these tracks and the sense of movement present within each that allows Beyond the Cycle to transcend the lifeless drivel that's usually tagged "new age" and "synth." It seems intentional that Magisson was trying to capture the mood of each track title in its corresponding music, and she is largely successful, though its unclear if the title provided direction or was applied afterward. The somewhat jarring introduction of "Wilderness Bloom" and the stoned growth of "Circle Motion" are my top picks, but the album works best as a whole and played very loudly, the overall effect immersing the listener into heady zones traversed by the Nightcrawlers. Leave it to Ikuisuus to release an "ethereal ambient music" record that satisfies, and sounds and looks great to boot. Sunhiilow's a lot more tame than most of what Ikuisuus releases, but it's an accessible, recommended starting point to one of the best active labels. HOWDY.

[fmdtaeyong]

— (he loved you).

date: early 2021. word count: 1,387 words, without lyrics. summary: after months of struggling to write music after finishing lovesick, ash finds inspiration where he doesn’t mean to — the very place he’d left behind. notes: writing verification.

he sits at the island in his kitchen, the light of his phone screen the only thing illuminating the darkness around him as he uses it to provide enough light to watch his own fingers slide across the fretboard of his guitar. the moon hangs somewhere overhead beyond his windows, past the lonely lights of seoul at night.

a guitar riff is playing in his mind and he toys with it, the same three chords over and over in different ways until he likes the way they sound. there’s no words to it, but he hums a soft melody that changes each time he loops back around, his ear refusing to commit to any one series of notes right away.

there’s nothing much on his mind these days. work is scarce, and when he’s done, he comes home, pumps out melodies and chords and then abandons them to be found years later when he feels something other than emptiness when he tries to think of what he wants to say.

lyrics have never eluded him the way they do lately. for as long as he can remember, there have been strings of words in his mind, piecing themselves together like a puzzle he didn’t know his own mind had crafted a mold of. they’ve come to him even when he has no use for them, but now, he’s lucky if he finishes a verse with more than a basic melodic direction to it.

some artists, kurt cobain occurs to ash immediately, had been proud advocates for melodies over lyrics. it’s something that ash had found curious for more than a decade of his life, but as of late, he’s been thinking cobain might have had a point. where words fail, melodies speak. when the mind is too exhausted or distracted to string together phrases, it can still run on autopilot, placing notes one after the other. a song without lyrics is still music. there’s another name entirely for lyrics without a melody: poetry, and ash has never considered himself a poet. he couldn’t proudly hold that flame if he wanted to.

he hums along a bare bones melody on meaningless syllables, trying to navigate a course over the chords he’s toying with with the aimless pattern of his fingers from one spot to another. instead of love ballad or glittery and coy pop tune, the melody rings more with the high-tension attempted detachment of emotion of rock. it’d sound good with some drums and electric guitar, he notes mentally, but it’s nothing solid enough to take him from his seat into the safety of his studio. it’s not like anything will come of it anyway. a half-baked melody isn’t exactly a home run for a hit song, even if it feels like it in comparison to the shit luck he’s been having scrounging up that much to show for himself.

the melody in progress stagnates before long, as they all have been lately, and he grows frustrated with his own creative block.

frustration leads to distraction and distraction leads to the aura of his phone’s screen illuminating the dim kitchen.

he rarely finds himself on the naver front page in the late hours of the night, but how he’d even ended up there is the last thing on his mind when he sees her face, unprepared to be confronted with his memories of her without warning.

it’s a picture of her at some award show that must have happened since he’d last seen her, hair chopped short at her shoulder and that cherry red smile on her lips that could bring the strongest to their knees if she was the type to use her powers for evil. his stomach twists at the mere sight of her, nothing new for him, but for the first time it’s more pained than lovestruck.

nam yeseo cast in hollywood film, expresses excitement about moving to u.s.

he stares at the headline through the darkness, shock coming with a delayed onset. he has to be dreaming. only his mind could play such a cruel trick on him.

he hasn’t read a word of the article yet, but his mind brings screeching forth the memory of that night he’d brought up visiting the u.s. together. it’s not for me, she’d said.

so what had changed?

more likely, nothing had changed at all, and it’d all been some polite rejection of the deeper parts of him. it’d been a hypothetical, purely hazy daydreaming in the aftermath of intimacy, but had it been her drawing the line before he’d cut an unfixable crack through the ground between them himself? should he have known then?

he can’t help it, and without thought, his fingers type out her name in the search bar, like naver will be able to give him the answer to his questions.

nam yeseo to work in u.s. under name julia nam

the universe is cruel with its pranks.

he has no ownership over her name. he knows that. it’s her identity, not his, but for all the years he’d known her, ‘julia’ had never been anything more than the once-used english name he teased her with in the private walls of their homes. when she’d confided in him about her parents pressuring her to settle down and marry because she was past thirty now and to them that meant it was time to abandon her silly acting dreams, he’d whispered in a voice that was only half-pained with memories of their own that the julia kim would never let anyone steer her off-course with humor in his voice that only existed for the two of them, ignoring the knife blade in his stomach at the reminder of what could have been. when he’d spent the night at her place for the first time, the letter left on the pillow when he’d had to sneak out early to get to a schedule had been inked with the inside joke of her english name she only told him after his playful prying.

it’s always felt something like kinship, ‘julia’ being some distant, separate entity the way ‘taeyong’ is for ash in a sense that had haunted his thoughts as a little too dark to compare on entirely equal footing.

now, without him by her side when the lights go down, she’s stepping into the spotlight as julia, ash is floundering more than ever trying to swim in the sea taeyong has shipwrecked him in.

he’s happy for her. he is. hopefully she’s getting that role she always wanted of someone more of a woman than a want.

but the ache that comes from knowing he won’t ever be able to congratulate her sits deeper inside of him. heavier.

nam yeseo in the search bar becomes yeseo in his contacts and the screen seems brighter than ever.

i heard you’re leaving town.

no. there’s no way she’s looking him up. he has no right to admit to looking her up. what does he expect? he can’t change her mind. he wouldn’t want to.

he deletes it.

it might not matter now

he clears the message box again before he can even finish the thought.

his grip on his phone strengthens just enough for the edge to dig into his palm and sober him with the pain. the next moment, his phone goes sliding down to the edge of the kitchen island, saved from falling off by little more than chance.

there’s so much he’d say to her if he could, but they’re worlds apart now.

it’s the middle of the night and he’s on his own. the realization knocks the breath out of him and numbness thaws away for something more raw. he’s not sure he wants to be spending his night with her, not when that would mean confronting his own demons that had gotten them here, but being alone isn’t much easier a task.

by force, ash is reminded why he writes.

not because it’s his job or because of the expectation he will.

he writes when reality strips him of the opportunity to say what he wants to.

stripped raw in the kitchen of his apartment, without anyone to call for the first time in years, he writes to run from his own hollowness.

he runs, like he had from her last fall, from one shoddily constructed safety net to another, and repeats the words that have become inked on his tongue from their permanent residency there the past few months.

i'm doing fine, i swear it's not a lie

[illshowyourhurricanes]

A Familiar Face (Part 7)

How about a chapter instead of a Sunday snippet? I love this story, and an update is far overdue!  As a short refresher since I took so long (apologies!), your apartment has been broken into and ransacked. Ryan is with you and helps you sift through the wreckage as much as he is able. But you have a confession to make: you know who is the culprit, and you can’t hide the truth anymore.  (Parts 1-6 can be found on my masterlist!

Rating: PG for a little steaminess

Word count: 3390 (Because Ryan gets to me and I lose any and all self-control.)

Tag list: @obscurilicious​ @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @logan-deloss @lexxierave @madamrogers​ @yannii04​ @gollyderek​ @carlaangel86​ @maydayfigment​ @vetseras​ @thisisparadisemylove​ @malionnes​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @crushed-pink-petals-writes​ @delos-destinations​ @luminex3​ @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes​ @tenhargreeves​ @witchygagirl​ @fific7​ @pheedraws​

If you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list, please just send me an ask or shoot me a DM.

Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Ryan’s eyes crinkled up at the edges when he smiled. It was something you hadn’t discovered early on, like the pensive look that darkened his eyes sometimes or the way their color seemed to dance when he talked about music and places he’d been, things he’d seen. He was always wearing that tattered khaki hat, and the bill cast a shadow over his eyes, shrouding little things from view.

But that night, between guitar picking with calloused fingertips and singing that bursted from his soul, you and Ryan talked; you joked and laughed and the back-and-forth you both indulged in lasted longer than any of your previous conversations had. With Ryan’s overgrown hair brushed back, the only thing obstructing his eyes at times was a chunk of long bangs falling over his forehead. It wasn’t enough, however, to hide those eye crinkles when he laughed, framed by long, dark eyelashes. It was a small feature of his that was only showcased in certain instances, and one that most people wouldn’t notice. But, every time it happened, you felt your heart flip, the way it had just before the cozy house set back deep in the woods had been filled with music.

Your mind kept replaying the melody of the original song he’d played for you. It had stirred something deep inside of you, ignited a place within yourself that you’d never known existed. 

“When did you write Southbound?” Your questions were becoming more personal, and the startling part, the part that made you the happiest, was that Ryan didn’t seem to mind answering them, nor did he seem hesitant to ask questions of his own. “What sparked that melody, those words?”

Ryan set his guitar down gently, leaning the front of the old acoustic against the wall, neck and peg board supporting the instrument. He regarded your face, the glint of genuine curiosity shining in your eyes. He was attentive to the way you were sitting, leaning forward and eager to hear more of his story. 

He’d met many people over the time he’d spent on the roads, living life the way he saw fit. Some of them had been curious about his lifestyle, how long he’d been playing, that sort of thing. He’d met people who had pried for details, almost as if a disguised predator hunting for prey. But you… you were the first person he’d encountered that was interested in more than why he didn’t use plastic guitar picks, but chose thumb and finger picks instead. Ryan wasn’t used to people being interested in him as a person. He was conditioned to keeping to himself, allowing lips curled in disgust at his clothes, rust-stained or dirtied in places from hopping trains,  to roll off his back. He smiled, one of those crooked, small quirks of his lips that he tended to lean toward when he was feeling shy. But it didn’t keep him from answering, and truthfully.

“Just keepin’ myself occupied on trains.  Some’a those rides are long and I use the time to practice, to play.” He flexed his fingers, and you looked down to see the ink decorating his knuckles. That was another story you’d love to hear, what those tattoos meant to him, what they stood for. “I found a melody I liked, kept playin’ around with it, the tuning, the speed, the pickin’. It was a while before the words came. My old notebook is more scratched through words than anythin’ else.”

He looked at you, perched on the edge of the old vintage couch, some of the fabric beginning to wear. He caught your eyes and held your gaze for a lingering moment, andl his focus was drawn downward to your lips. He forced himself to not stare, to continue with his story. 

“But the words came, and I liked ‘em alright. They fit when I paired the lyrics with the music. For a long time, I had two verses, the strumming in the middle, and that was it. Wasn’t until the thick of the winter when I was inspired to finish.”

Ryan stopped there. You wanted to ask him what had inspired him to turn the song in the specific direction it had gone. You wanted to ask him how autobiographical the song was, the parts about leaving home— where home had been, if he’d ever tried to find a permanent place he could be content in. He’d sung a line or so nodding to drinking, and you couldn’t help but feel a strong pull at your heartstrings, and the solemn weight that settled in your chest. Ryan hadn’t had an easy life. 

Instead of responding with words, you surveyed Ryan’s face. He was still just across from you, the fire he’d built still crackling in the fireplace. You felt a chill and lifted your sock-clad feet to the bottom cushion of the sofa you’d been occupying for the evening, hugging your knees to your chest. 

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, You became lost in thought, with the knowledge that tomorrow would be another very long day. You were making a mental list of things to take care of when Ryan’s voice brought you back to the present. It was such a welcome distraction.  

“Tell me about the diner.” He spoke softly, not much louder than the crackling of the blazing fire he’d built. Standing from where you’d been lounging, you moved to the heart again to toast before the fire. It was difficult to stay still, difficult to focus on anything other than the questions making endless rounds through your head, overwhelming your mind. You could focus on Ryan, though. The diner. You smiled genuinely. My comfort. My home.  It felt like, somehow, Ryan knew how much the diner meant to you… and he did. It was impossible to miss when you were there, working non-stop but never without a smile, never too busy to indulge a patron in warm conversation. It was your safe haven.

“My grandparents opened up the place decades ago,” you started. You paused for a moment and relished the warmth radiating over your back. “They snatched it up with a down payment and a lump sum  of pre-payment of the lease before the building had an interior, when it was just a shell of brick. They knew it would be the perfect location for the business they’d dreamt of opening.” You caught Ryan’s eyes, and there was a smile there, matching the one on his lips as well as your own. “It’s like the American Dream,” you laughed, and continued. “My parents took over…” 

And just as quickly as your grin had come, it vanished with a darkening of your eyes. The shock and bewilderment you’d felt in discovering the state of your apartment was transitioning into outright anger. You could kill your brother. And the thought of him intruding your mind-- just like the way he’d intruded your apartment, your life once again-- reminded you that Ryan still had no idea about what you knew. What had actually happened. 

“And that brings us here,” you finally continued. “I had money saved up, a nice amount. Cash, mostly from tips, so I could buy that building outright when it’s time, take over when my parents grew tired.” You swallowed hard, shoving down the lump in your throat that had been returning unwelcome throughout the evening and night. A slight look of contempt twisted your features, and your eyes began to prickle. You knew what was coming; it was inevitable. “For years, I’ve measured my life in coffee spoons, packs of sweetener and powdered creamer. Working toward that goal is my whole life, and I wouldn’t trade the double shifts or overtime for the world, but right now? I have nothing to show for it.” Hot tears stung your face, and you wiped them away angrily as you gathered the courage to look at Ryan. His gaze was centered on you already, stunningly intense. And you were hit with a realization then:  that if anyone could understand what it was like to have nothing—  next to no money, no home, a sparse amount of belongings— it was Ryan. 

He had no permanent home. You were fairly positive he’d had his fair share of days with little to no money, and everything he owned fit in his pack, with the exception of his guitar. The peace you felt from your epiphany thawed your anger. Your tears were tapering. Sniffing quietly, you moved to the side as Ryan came to tend to the fire. A feeling of understanding hung in the air between the two of you as Ryan added some more kindling to the flames. Your eyes alternated between his movements and the dance of dark shadow with orange firelight moving over his features. You were mesmerized. 

“I know who did it.” Your voice was barely more than a whisper and you were hyper-aware of your heart beating wildly beneath the safety of your rib cage. Ryan brushed his hands together and stood upright, his eyes regarding as he did so. He didn’t seem to be angry at all, but his curiosity was apparent. He was quiet for a moment, but finally answered with a slight nod, the silence remaining. You opened your mouth to apologize again, your self-loathing over lying by omission rising by the minute, but Ryan beat you to the punch.

“ ‘S’not much of my business, I reckon, but you…” He looked at you with a seriousness you’d never expect from him, and your eyes widened with anticipation and dread. “Are you safe, Y/N?” Ryan’s warm, dark eyes were round with concern, and not a touch of anger was present. All you saw was worry and care.

You nodded in response and cast your eyes downward. “It is your business,” you assured him. It’s your business. You were there and you… you helped me bear the brunt of it all. “And I’m sorry, Ryan. Feeling shame isn’t an excuse to lie. Nothing is.” For the first time, you were nervous in front of him, not because of how he made you feel, but because you’d deceived him. If he’d had any trust in you-- which you thought he might-- you’d taken advantage of that.  “I don’t want you to get involved in my mess.” Looking up at him, you locked your eyes with his. He had no further reason to trust you, not in your opinion, but you hoped he’d be able to see the honesty that you were finally giving him, and that he deserved. “You’ve been a light in my life since you’ve been around, and I don’t want to dim that, not while you’re still here casting that glow.” Your cheeks burned at the realization of how corny your words sounded, but corny or not, they were absolute truth.

Closing the short distance between you, Ryan gently took one of your hands in his, tangling his long fingers with yours. He just looked at you for a few seconds, and then, he kissed you with care. His lips were soft against yours, his kiss light, lingering, laced with an air of urgency. One hand cupped your cheek and the other wrapped around your hand just a bit tighter, your fingers lacing with his. He kissed you again, this time with an added tenacity, yet somehow still chaste. When he pulled back to look at you, both for a reaction and to marvel at your beauty, you noticed his chestnut eyes had darkened a shade or two. Your hands were still locked together and you couldn’t seem to draw in a full, steady breath. You got lost in the warmth of his eyes for a moment before your gaze fell to his lips, already craving another taste. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I shouldn’t ‘ve—“ You shook your head once and leaned in again, interrupting his very unnecessary apology. The way Ryan kissed was something you’d never experienced before. It was all the evidence you needed to achor the idea that Ryan didn’t need words. His soul was naked when he strummed the steel strings of his guitar, his emotions were on full display in his eyes, and his heart was unmistakably felt in his kiss. It was extraordinary and spellbinding. It was absolute and genuine and something that you wanted to take hold of, grasp tightly, and keep with you. But you knew, instead, eventually, you’ d have to let go. And much sooner, you suspected, than you’d like.

It had been foolish to allow yourself to grow attached to a stranger you may never see again, but you allowed yourself the effort to attempt rationalizing what was serendipitous. It wasn’t lost on you that doing so was a glaring paradox, but what were the chances of Ryan returning to your small town in the first place? You knew now that the reason was Georgie, but that posed another question: what were the chances of you remembering Ryan specifically? Buskers passed through all the time, on their way to or coming from the city. You were accustomed to music floating through the air on your way to the diner when you didn’t have the opening shift, but Ryan’s music wasn’t just a nice tune you’d enjoyed on your way to work. Ryan’s music, his style and way of playing, his voice smooth as honey but rough with passion, wasn’t just music-- it was a force. Ryan in himself was a force, and in the most gentle, remarkable way. 

You pulled back reluctantly, your lips on fire and cheeks ablaze. You’d had one hell of a day, and your emotions were anything but regulated. The last thing you wanted to do was something out of your character, to tarnish your time with Ryan by doing something that, in hindsight, wouldn’t hold a meaning. You opened your eyes to see Ryan studying your face, and he smiled that boyish, crooked quirk of his lips— his incredible lips— that made your heart do somersaults. 

“I’ve been wantin’ to do that for awhile,” he admitted, a slight chuckle accompanying his confession. You laughed, shaking your head more in disbelief than anything else  Ryan brushed his calloused fingertips softly over your forehead, gently curling a few wayward strands of your hair behind your ear. 

“How did you wait so long? I’m irresistible.” You dissolved into laughter and rolled your eyes dramatically, taking him by the hand and leading him the few steps back to the old loveseat you’d claimed as yours earlier in the evening. He followed suit easily, pulling you down to sit on one cushion as he sat on the other. 

“You are,” he told you, but there was no trace of laughter in his voice. His shadow of a smile held affection instead of humor. “You’ve made my time here more’n just playing a couple songs with Georgie. He’s off somewhere now, an’ me? I’m still here.”

It was a simple thing to say, obvious in nature but not in the way Ryan had said it. The connotation in his voice and what he meant was stunning. For a moment, you were quiet, turning his words over in your head. Then, you grinned shyly. 

“You’re something else, Ryan Brenner.” It was something he’d said to you many times, and it had grown into a habit, an inside joke. Turning toward him, you took both of his hands and your expression grew serious. “I owe you an explanation,” you started carefully, “But first I want to thank you for bringing such sunshine into my life since you’ve been here. I always look forward to work, but I found myself not dreading the walk there in the cold. I wanted to make sure to bring you some sort of warmth as thanks, even if it was just a cup of coffee during the day… something pulled me toward you, Ryan, And not for any reason other than how genuine you are. You’re unapologetic in who you are, and there’s no pretense you carry around with you. People like you are all but impossible to come by.”

Now that you were talking, really talking and free of anxiety, you couldn’t stop. Words just came pouring out in bursts with barely a moment between. You could talk to Ryan about how you felt about him for an hour, but you needed to get back to the truth and finish the conversation you’d started earlier. In your moment’s pause,Ryan took advantage of your silence and leaned toward you, pressing his lips to yours again softly, almost as if asking permission.

You hummed slightly against his lips, and you felt the warmth of his palm radiating through the material of your shirt. He pressed his hand to the small of your back, drawing you closer. Again, he gifted you with his mouth against yours, gently coaxing your lips open with his tongue, deepening the kiss. Your arm found its way over his shoulder, your hand curling around his neck and fingers getting lost in the long, dark hair there. You’d easily gotten yourself lost in Ryan, and consciously so. Kissing Ryan felt like home. 

When he broke away, his eyes were dark with desire, yet he simply rested his forehead against yours, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes briefly. You slowly withdrew your fingers from his hair, your arm from his neck and shoulder, but Ryan’s hand remained on your back. The pressure was light, however, and he was gently running his fingertips up and down the middle of your back, straight over the line of your spine. You closed your eyes at first, relishing in his touch, feeling goosebumps pop up atop your skin. You opened your eyes as you felt him remove his forehead from yours, and you focused your gaze downward. Turning over his hand, you traced your index fingers over the tattoos, vertical lines between his middle and lower knuckles.

“It was my brother.” Finally confessing your truth, your voice was tiny, barely audible, and you felt the fall of your heart into the pit of your stomach. Nerves and shame burrowed there as well and spread like venom throughout your body. Your posture changed, your shoulders tense as you hunched into yourself unconsciously. A bitter taste was on your tongue, and that lump had lodged itself in your throat again, rendering your voice useless. You swallowed past it again, and you looked up at Ryan, knowing a simple glance could give you the courage you needed. His eyes were full of warmth and gentle encouragement, and his palm flattened over your back, rubbing gentle circles in effort to soothe you. 

Noel was at rock bottom. Because you’d been forced to change your locks and not give him a key, he’d resorted to breaking down your door and destroying your apartment searching for money that he either owed or needed to sustain his habit. That strength and effort, that apparent absence of remorse in someone who you’d trusted implicitly for years cut you like a knife, but more than that, it terrified you. Your brother had turned into a stranger. 

“I don’t know if I’m safe anymore, Ryan.” You looked up at him in a loss. “I don’t know where to go from here.”

Ryan was not a violent man, but at that moment, he felt a white hot anger for the man who had done this to you, your brother, a man he didn’t even know and had never laid eyes on. A man he hadn’t known existed until two minutes ago. But he was concentrating on what didn’t matter, and he needed to reroute that. You mattered. You were all that mattered to him in that moment, your peace of mind and your safety. Dipping his head, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and indulged in inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

“We’re gonna figure it, okay? I promise you. I’mma be right here ‘till we do.” He paused and placed his index finger under your chin, drawing your face upward gently and catching your eye. Ryan needed you to see his sincerity. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, Y/N. We’re in this together, you and me.”

[sheikah]

Folklore is a literally perfect album and I love it for a million reasons. But here is a compilation of my thoughts on my favorite lyrics that make it a Darklina anthem </3

I wouldn’t call myself a Swiftie and I don’t really blog about Taylor but I love this album so much. Bon Iver is one of my favorite artists of all time and I always listen to his music while writing. To me folklore has big Bon Iver energy haha (obviously, he collaborated on “exile”). Maybe it’s because I was finishing up my Darklina fic when folklore dropped but I just connected so many of Taylor’s lyrics and stories with them. I feel a lot of bitterness in this album that’s balanced, precariously, with hope. I’d say the same thing about canon!Darklina. You know, until Alina killed him :X

Anyway, here are my favorite bits!

If my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

-”the 1″

This is textbook Alina to me. It reminds me of, “ Why don't you just admit that you wanted to belong to him? Why don't you admit that part of you still does?” The lyrics are like her bitter admission, an acceptance of her own feelings, but too late.

You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding.

-”cardigan”

I often see the fanon version of Aleksander as pure seduction and arrogance. I see those parts of him and they’re a huge part of his appeal, but I’m more interested in his vulnerability. We only get glimpses, but it’s definitely there. His long life has included a lot of misery, and he tells Alina in S&B that she’s “the first glimmer of hope that [he’s] had in a long time.” I think their relationship was helping to heal him, that he was starting to let go of some of his anger and bitterness. But when she left that all fell apart. Also, there’s so much star imagery in descriptions of and about Aleksander. 

You didn’t even hear me out. 

You never gave a warning sign. 

All this time, I never learned to read your mind.

-”exile”

“Exile” is a duet so it’s fitting that I feel like these lines apply equally to both Alina and Aleksander :( So much of the central conflict of the trilogy could have been avoided if they’d actually had a candid conversation about Aleksander’s plans and intentions. But Alina (understandably) leaves immediately after Baghra’s warning, and for most of the trilogy they’re just trading out who is deceiving who. Tbh this whole song works so well for them. There’s a lot of jealousy and betrayal laced through the words but I just picked my favorite bit.

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe

All the hell you gave me?

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you

'Til my dying day

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And you're the hero flying around, saving face

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean

Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you

But what a ghostly scene

You wear the same jewels that I gave you

As you bury me

And I can go anywhere I want

Anywhere I want, just not home

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood

But you would still miss me in your bones

And I still talk to you (When I'm screaming at the sky)

And when you can't sleep at night (You hear my stolen lullabies)

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

You turned into your worst fears

And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain

Crossing out the good years

And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

-”my tears ricochet”

I’m pretty sure the whole fandom already connected this song to Aleksander. It’s just too easy, and too heartbreaking. I can’t even... It’s just so fitting? The bit about wearing the jewels (amplifiers???), cursing his name (”no one knew his name to curse or extol”). The whole thing, really. I’m in PAIN.

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else

Look at this idiotic fool that you made me

You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

And you know damn well

For you, I would ruin myself

-”illicit affairs”

Alina and Aleksander’s connection was something unique that she always remarked upon every time they reunited, and it wasn’t something that could be replicated (not even when Leigh randomly made Mal an amplifier too :|). Alina also constantly blames herself for not seeing through Aleksander sooner in S&B, like he made a fool of her. The “ruin myself” line is so similar to the, “You could make me a better man,” “And you could make me a monster,” exchange. Alina can see the darkness that would come with loving him. In S&S she willingly faces death with him just to stop him, thinking they’ll die together. THE ANGST OF IT IS JUST *chef’s kiss* 

Time, curious time

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons

Wool to brave the seasons

One single thread of gold

Tied me to you

-”invisible string”

This just screams Aleksander and his belief that he and Alina were destined to meet, that his long life was going to turn around when she came around :(

It's obvious that wanting me dead

Has really brought you two together

-”mad woman”

If this isn’t scorned Aleksander after finding Mal and Alina kissing in the forest near the stag in S&B then I don’t know what is.

But I’m a fire and I’ll keep your brittle heart warm

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best

But the rain is always gonna come if you're standin' with me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

-”peace”

Alina knowing deep down she loves Aleksander but that it would never really work between them :(

My only one

My smoking gun

My eclipsed sun

This has broken me down

My twisted knife

My sleepless night

My winless fight

This has frozen my ground

Stood on the cliffside screaming, "Give me a reason"

Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in

Don't want no other shade of blue but you

No other sadness in the world would do

My best laid plan

Your sleight of hand

My barren land

I am ash from your fire

My only one

My kingdom come undone

My broken drum

You have beaten my heart

-”hoax”

This one seriously just speaks for itself. I mean, “eclipsed sun?!” Taylor is a Darklina stan CONFIRMED.

Anyway absolutely no one asked for this and I’ve made myself sad typing it up but damn if I don’t absolutely love this pairing and love this album. I love pain D:

[jimlingss]

For a request, how about Tae and the reader where hs sweethearts and really loved each other, but then the reader had to move far away for some reason and they lost contact. Then years later when they’re both adults they meet again because they end up working at the same place. Maybe Tae wants to try things again because he really felt they were real but the reader is unsure and thinks they were too young before. You can decide the ending. It’s a story idea I’ve had for a while now 😅 Thanks! 💜

↳ Sixteen Over Thirty

1.5k words || 100% Fluff || Kim Taehyung

Everyone has a period of time in their life that they want to hide.  For you and many others, that time is high school. When you were awkward and gawky, limbs suddenly longer than they’ve ever been before, acne cursing you as you tried to fit in the cesspool of superficial teenagers. You still cringe remembering just how unbearable you were. On your worst days, you’re reminded that you used to write lyrics of romance songs on the margins of your notes and that you wanted to someday get a tattoo of them. You wrote romantic poems, daydreamed scenes from chick flicks and thought it was your own life. Worse of all — you thought you found your soulmate. You used to scribble ‘Kim Y/N’ all over your journal, and you’re sure your teenage self would’ve gotten married had it been legal at sixteen. You would’ve said yes the second he popped the question. It’s a horrifying thought. “Why’s it horrifying?” A mirage of your teenage self confronts you with her arms crossed. She has that glare on — the one she thinks is scary, but comes off more as bratty. “You’re too young to get married.” “But I love him!” “You don’t love him,” you spit at her in distaste. “God, you don’t even know how to do taxes, don’t talk about love with me, you child.” “Ugh, you’re just like mom and dad!” She dramatically rolls her eyes. “What happened to you?!” “Life,” you tell her in disgust. Why she was wearing neon pink eyeshadow was beyond you. “I wish you’d become me sooner.” “You can’t tell me what to do!” She shouts at the top of her lungs. “I hate you!” The hallucination stomps off and slams the door shut, leaving you with a sigh. Everyone has a dark past of embarrassment and shame that makes you kick your blanket at night. But sometimes, it returns to truly haunt you, materializing right in front of you with no escape. And this time, it’s not a mirage of your past self formed from your active imagination. It’s someone real and tangible. “Y/N!” Your colleague waves you over in the lobby with a smile. “You got a lot of energy for a Monday morning.” “‘Course, I’m just showing the new recruit around. Kim Taehyung, this is L/N Y/N. She’s the senior director of the marketing department.” Your ears are ringing. It couldn’t be…. But the minute he steps aside, you come face to face with a tall individual with blonde hair. He has a bright smile, holding a curious stare, his brown eyes peering into yours. “Y/N…?” “T-Taehyung?” “Do you two know each other?” Your colleague looks between the both of you and your expressions of wonderment. “Yeah. We...went to high school together.” “Oh, really? Wow. What a small word!” It’s a small world indeed. It’s way too small. You should move to another fucking planet — NASA should make it to Mars faster so you can migrate. But alas, there’s no escape. Not today, not in the next few months. Taehyung works right in your department by your side. The pair of you see each other day in and day out, and he never hesitates to make small talk with you, catching up on the years you've missed of each other's life. Just like before, he places himself too close to you. Kim Taehyung is talented in how he worms his way into people’s lives and bring their guard down. And one night, you find yourself realizing this at a bar during happy hour with all your colleagues. You’ve taken your place alone at the counter on a stool, and he slides right up next to you. “Drink’s here are good.” “Yeah, I know.” You keep your speech polite, distant. “Not bad for the price.” He hits you with a memory. “We used to pass here all the time, remember? Always wanted to go in together when we were old enough.” Stiff laughter leaves your mouth and you click your drink with his beer bottle. “Guess we made it.” The man hums, his elbow propped on the counter. He rests his cheek in his hand and stares at you, a little too intensely, but you don’t comment. He shouldn’t look this good in a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and fitted trousers. Damn him.  “We had a lot of things we wanted to do when we became of age. Didn’t you want to get matching tattoos?” He snaps his fingers, eyes lighting up. “You even had drawings of them!” “Oh god.” You groan. “Don’t talk about it.” Taehyung gives a cheesy smile. “Why not?” “It’s embarrassing.” “I don’t think so,” he muses. “It’s cute.” “We were young.” “Still are,” he says and takes a long sip of his drink. The oncoming intoxication makes it easier to speak sober thoughts, and he must find it simpler too because he asks— “I heard you’re not seeing anyone. What’s up with that?” The bomb is dropped. You’re caught off guard. “What do you mean?” Taehyung shrugs. “I just thought you’d be married by now. You always talked about wanting to be married and having kids before turning twenty five.” “Well, I was a dumb teenager, Taehyung.” It’s nostalgic to sit next to him like this, to talk this quietly as if it’s just the both of you in this busy place, and you’re not sure if you welcome the feeling. “We all were.” “Do you ever think about how we could’ve been?” he asks, looking at you carefully. “I mean, if you never had to move away for college.” “I don’t know.” There’s a long silence as your mind travels. Maybe you would’ve gotten married to him by now, have kids, working mediocre jobs and coming home to the family. A white-picket fenced life. Then again, people don’t often end up with their high school sweethearts, not when their innocence sooner or later becomes ruined, when their immaturity sheds, when they realize the horizon’s so big…. Yet somehow, your teenage self would like to disagree with your cynical view. “Why’d you never call me when you came back?” “I didn’t know you were still here and I didn’t want to bother you. I thought you’d be married by now.” “Same here. Guess I just never found the person I wanted to marry.” Taehyung gaze is deep and imploring. “At least there was no one like you.” You laugh, lolling your head to one side. “Are you trying to flirt with me, Kim Taehyung?” “Is it working?” he chuckles, sipping on his drink as you roll your eyes playfully. “It’s inappropriate.” “Well we’re not at work,” he counters. “Everything’s fair game, right?” A noise comes from your mouth that he relishes in, a half-scoff and half-laugh. “Some things don’t change, do they, Taehyung?” “Some don’t.” The corners of his mouth draw upwards. “So you should let me take you on a date.” You blink hard, not sure if you misheard or not. “Pardon?” “I think….I might still be in love with you,” he admits over another tentative sip of his drink. Your face feels hot. Your stomach flutters as if you were still a teenager and not a grown woman. And your heart stutters against its will. Your composed exterior is vulnerable but you laugh it off. “Don’t be ridiculous, Taehyung. We were like five.” “We were sixteen,” he corrects. “Yeah, well, I’m thirty now and that feels like eons ago. I have to go get my cane.” He laughs noisily and it’s nice to see him be so unabashedly himself. “That’s not old. You’re not a grandma and even then there’s nothing wrong with that — I’d still want to take you out to dinner and a movie.” Your flustered, swallowing hard. “Sure. Good luck with that.” “Why, you don’t believe me?” Taehyung leans in closer, his breath skimming on your cheek and making you feel a kind of nervousness you haven’t felt since you were an adolescent. “Is it so crazy for you to believe that I like you?” “I think you’re hanging onto a fantasy.” “And what fantasy is that?” he asks.  “I..I don’t know. The whole fantasy that we’d work out. That everything will be perfect. The whole seeing the world through rose-coloured lenses.” “I don’t think so.” Taehyung pouts and thinks about it. “I don’t think everything will be perfect. I don’t know if things will work out — we’ll have to see. And I’m pretty sure I see you how you actually are.” The distance has closed. He’s still smiling in that way that pisses you off, but makes your palms sweaty. God, he always knew how to soften you right up. You feel like melted butter. There’s a moment of quiet and you finish your drink, slamming it down on the counter. “Where would we have dinner?” The man has a shit-eating grin, one of delight, excitement and victory. “At that breakfast diner we used to go to.” “Walking down memory lane, aren’t we, Kim Taehyung?” You grab your purse quickly and muster a nonchalant shrug as you hop off the stool. “Fine, I like their pancakes anyways.” Kim Taehyung laughs, following closely behind. You embrace your teenage self instead of shaming her, and she stays right by your side, singing love songs already.

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

When the Party's Over

Author's Note:

Welp. This happened? It's a Bucky x Reader oneshot inspired by the song "when the party's over" by Billie Eilish. It's my first attempt at writing for Bucky, and also my first attempt at angst? Please let me know what y'all think!

Once again a big THANK YOU to @twentytwohearts for beta-ing this fic for me!

TW: injuries, death, mentions of anxiety/grief/PTSD

Lyrics are BOLD

Don't you know I'm no good for you?

I've learned to lose you, can't afford to

Tore my shirt to stop you bleedin'

But nothin' ever stops you leavin'

    It was supposed to be a routine mission -- in and out in an hour or two. The whole team had come along, but that was more a formality than anything else. The ride over on the Quinjet had been almost jovial; jokes and cheerful conversation clashing harshly with the reality of what we were going to do. It was a sad reality of our line of work, but the compartmentalization helped all of us get through the day without going too insane. 

Y/N had been sitting in her usual place by my side, head resting comfortably atop my shoulder and fingers entangled with mine. Her thumb rubbed soft circles into the palm of my flesh hand as we quietly spoke. She knew better than anyone that I craved gentle touch -- especially before a mission -- that it helped keep the Soldier from making an unwelcome return. She was smart like that, sensing when I needed her the most without my ever having to say a word. It was one of the things that had drawn me to her when we first met. I was distracted by the intoxicating feel of her skin against mine and mind racing with thoughts of her and I as we soared through the sky together. If I had it my way, I'd never detangle myself from her loving touch and our hands would stay locked together like puzzle pieces forever. 

Even as I knelt beside her in the middle of a makeshift battlefield hours later her fingers were still entangled with mine, but this time both our hands were painted with a warm, sticky coat of blood.

Her blood.

She'd been struck from behind, a stray bullet taking the both of us by complete surprise. It was one of Hydra's, a massive chunk of metal designed to implode upon impact to inflict the maximum amount of damage. And damage it did. 

As soon as she'd felt the sharp pain in her back, her eyes had instantly found mine, the connection between us drawing my gaze to her. I didn't remember much else from that moment apart from the roar of fury and fear that'd ripped from my throat as my mind went blank with panic. I don't even know how I'd made my way to her through all the people in the way, all I remember is the sheer horror that encased me as I sprinted to her fast crumpling form.

I managed to catch her just before she hit the hard ground, my arms wrapping her securely against my chest as her hands blindly hunted for mine. I cradled her gently with my metal arm as my flesh hand gave her blood covered fingers the hold she'd been searching for. She smiled slightly at the feel of my flesh against hers as I scanned her wildly, looking for the source of her bleeding. 

The bullet had entered through her back, the impact opening the area around her stomach and exposing most of her internal organs to the outside of her body. Her once round, healthy face was turning sickly pale at an alarming rate -- her chest heaving with the effort it took her to breathe. She shivered against my chest, mumbling almost inaudibly.

"I'm cold."

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

Unlike most of the team, Y/N was quiet; she didn't speak much, but when she did her words always made an impact. She seemed to hang back from the group -- preferring to assess those around her with her sharp eyes rather than fill the space with meaningless chatter. I too preferred to stay on the outskirts of a crowd, and it was there that I first found her clear, Y/E/C orbs studying me with a look of curious innocence on her face. It didn't take long after that day for me to realize that she'd been unconsciously moving closer and closer to me as she stared. 

Back then I was still struggling daily with flashbacks and moments when the Soldier took control of my mind, but I never seemed to lose control when Y/N was around. A fact which baffled me to no end, I couldn't come up with a rational explanation for the wave of calm that overtook me whenever she was near. She'd never spoken a word to me, nor I to her, and yet I found myself impossibly drawn to her -- like a moth to a flame. I was so perplexed I'd even asked Steve if that was part of her abilities, mood or mental manipulation of some kind. Steve had just chuckled and explained that Y/N didn't in fact have any special abilities. She was just another master assassin, her skills on par with Natasha's or Clint's. 

Though the information wasn't exactly useful to me in terms of figuring out the strange connection I felt towards her, I found myself gravitating towards Y/N whenever she was present. Eventually we began exchanging small pleasantries; mine awkward and uncomfortable and hers quiet and sweet. The pleasantries soon turned to long, drawn out conversations about anything and everything. We spent hours just talking well into the night; I found myself opening up to her like I'd never been able to do with anyone else. There was just something about her presence that made me feel calm and secure. I told her things I'd never shared with anyone, not even Steve. Things about the Soldier, about Hydra. At first, I worried that she would judge me or run away screaming at the horrible things I'd seen and done. 

But she didn't. 

She'd never even flinched as I recounted the atrocities I'd been a part of. What's more, she firmly reminded me over and over that I wasn't in control back then, and reassured me in ways no one had before. She made me feel safe, calm without seeming like she was even trying. I felt like I was locked in some kind of trance whenever she was around -- like I was wrapped in a cocoon of safety, finally free from the memories and guilt from my past. 

Incredibly, she seemed to feel just as safe around me as I did her. It was impossible for me to fathom any reason that someone as pure and kind as her would want anything to do with someone like me -- a monster. But whenever I said anything to that effect she just giggled and waved my concerns off. She always made sure to tell me how safe she felt with me around, how drawn she felt to me. 

Before too long we'd fallen into a relationship the likes of which I could never have dreamed of. We fit into one another's lives like pieces of a puzzle, and after a while I wondered how I'd ever made it through a single day without her by my side. She was my rock, my whole world, and I would do anything to protect her. 

Don't you know too much already?

I'll only hurt you if you let me

Call me friend, but keep me closer (Call me back)

And I'll call you when the party's over

Some protector I was. 

Emotions flew through my body like hurricane winds -- each cutting through me as they passed. Fear, panic, sadness, guilt: none settling for long enough to take precedent over the others. My breathing was erratic, my entire body practically vibrating with the need to do something, anything. 

She laid in my arms, looking more like a small child than any assassin should have the right to. Her breathing was slowing by the minute, and there was a look of fear in her Y/E/C eyes that made the panic bubble back up in my chest. She looked terrified and her hand gripped mine tighter as she gasped for breath. Her lips moved wordlessly for a few moments and I shook my head. 

"It's okay doll, don't try and speak now," I cooed softly. My hand briefly left hers to move delicately through her knotted curls. The familiar, comforting act happened naturally -- my arm had no need to consult with my brain before it began soothing it's way through her hair. Which was good because my brain wasn't good for much at the moment. The effect on Y/N was immediate, and her eyelids fluttered shut with the small action. Though I normally revelled in the effects my touch could have on her, I was overcome with a surge of panic at my inability to see her eyes. 

"Y/N, doll, please. I need you to open up those pretty eyes okay? Keep them right on me sweetheart," I practically begged, sobs threatening to break through at any time and voice cracking. I needed to see her eyes. Needed to know she was still with me.

She complied with my request, though I could tell it took a lot of effort on her part. Her normally clear eyes tracked along my body with difficulty and I could tell she was struggling to focus. Finally her eyes met mine and I could see the tears that'd pooled within her lids begin to fall as she gazed at me. Her hand moved weakly around my chest, seemingly searching for something, until her soft flesh met with the side of my face. I felt the wet trail of blood her fingers left behind as they caressed my cheek. I couldn't be bothered to care about the blood, too focused on the feel of her gentle hand and the love-struck expression on her face. 

"Bucky." her voice was broken, softer than I'd ever heard. 

My mind was racing with all the possible outcomes, every bit of the first aid and battle wound training escaping me. I was so immersed in my attempts to shift through the torrent of thoughts and emotions in my mind that I hardly noticed the team as they gathered around me. Evidently the battle was pretty much over, and everyone was slowly filtering over to the spot where Y/N and I were hunched over. For the first time since I'd locked eyes with her this afternoon I felt a small flutter of hope worm it's way into my chest. 

Tony was here. Banner was here. Surely they'd know how to help, what to do. They'd save her. 

I turned from Y/N's shivering form long enough to glance at Steve where he stood next to Tony. Their expressions were grim, mouths set in a thin line and eyes fixed on her injuries.

Neither would quite meet my desperate gaze. Natasha's eyes were glossed over with unshed tears as she stared at Y/N. She padded over, kneeling down beside us gently. She surveyed the wounds marring Y/N with the eyes of a trained soldier. I held my breath as she assessed her, unable to think or do anything until I was given more information. 

Clint stood just behind her with a hand on Peter's shoulder, his face stoic and eyes looking as if he was a million miles away. Peter had never looked more his age. His young face was contorted into an expression that was a mix of fear, sadness, and shock. If I had to bet on it, I don't think he'd be standing upright if it weren't for Clint's grip on him. Bruce hung back from the group and looked as if he was teetering between going green or getting sick. Thor's massive frame towered behind all the rest, his head bowed in respect as he looked sadly over the two of us. 

"Tash…" Y/N croaked. Natasha gazed down at her with a tiny, sorrowful smile. She stroked her matted and bloody hair fondly with one hand as her other quickly injected her with a small syringe. 

"Я здесь, моя милая девушка. Я здесь." the redhead cooed soothingly. "It won't hurt anymore."

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. She couldn't mean what I thought she did. It couldn't happen. 

She stood slowly from her place, walking away slowly before ending up next to Peter. Her hand raised to his other shoulder and her head bowed as her tears began to fall. 

 My head snapped desperately between the faces of the team, needing someone to do something. 

"Stark, Banner, someone please help!" I shouted, angry at their lack of urgency. This was Y/N's life we were talking about. Someone needed to do something, needed to take her somewhere, fast. But no one moved. 

"Buck…" Steve murmured. He shook his head, defeated as tears sprang to fill his lids as well. He swallowed thickly, as if he was unsure of what to say next, the small action solidifying the twinge of doubt that lingered in the back of my mind. 

"No…" I choked out, sobs escaping my chest without permission. I gripped Y/N tighter against my body as I cried -- my tears landing on her near-motionless body and mingling with the fresh blood that covered her frame. 

The one small flame of hope I had left was extinguishing rapidly at the realization of what their lack of action meant. Y/N was going to die -- here -- in my arms, and I was powerless to stop it. Guilt and despair overtook my body as I wept in ugly choking gasps, the feelings making each limb feel as if it weighed thousands of pounds.

I was only brought out of my own head by the familiar feeling of gentle fingers dancing across my face. Y/N stared up at me as she caressed the stubble of my chin, eyes devoid of the fear and panic they once held. The feelings had simply vanished -- her irises now holding nothing but sheer love and determination. I was overwhelmed by just how beautiful she was. How much I loved her. I steadied myself, trying desperately to think of something to say. It was baffling really, to simultaneously have so much I yearned to tell her, and yet my brain couldn't muster even a single word at the moment. 

"Hey there handsome, why the long face?" she chuckled weakly. I laughed humorously at the phrase, my mind briefly drifting to a different time. A different place. 

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

"Bucky?" a call came from down the hall. Even from a distance I could instantly recognize the owner of melodic voice. Y/N. Her feet padded so softly down the hall, someone with normal hearing wouldn't have been able to detect her steps. Though I recognized the familiar sounds of both her voice and her footsteps approaching me, I didn't bother to move. 

I was currently sitting upright on the armchair located in the furthest corner of my room, hands gripping the arms tightly and eyes trained on the floor beneath my boots. The lights were all off and I was waging a silent war within myself. I'd just returned from a particularly grueling mission -- as if the fight wasn't gritty and difficult enough to start, the target was a Hydra base. A base packed to the brim with the idolizing scum, all bristling for a fight. Lately, I'd been more in control after these types of raids; I was able to separate myself from what I was seeing and keep the Soldier at bay. 

But not tonight.

Tonight I'd encountered one of the foot-soldiers that'd help manipulate and torture me. One of the men who'd held me down in those early days when I'd still had some fight left in me. The second I'd laid eyes on him, the memories flooded my mind like rocks in a landslide. I slipped completely out of control from there on out -- I laid waste to everyone and everything around me like a robot, like I was trained. Bucky Barnes was lost completely, and the Winter Soldier was in complete command of me. 

The Soldier had taken over me before -- the appearances becoming more distant the longer I'd been away from Cryo. But not like this. Never like this. 

Before when the Soldier took control, I'd lost consciousness entirely; mind blacked-out as he ravaged the poor souls caught in the crosshairs. Tonight, I was entirely lucid -- trapped inside as I watched the Soldier pioneer me like a puppet. I had taken a back seat within my own body. 

      If Steve hadn't been close -- if he wasn't so damn good at recognizing when I was no longer in control, who knows what would've happened. If I'd ever snapped back out of it. 

No. 

The thought drifted through my mind amidst the chaos and memories threatening to claw their way back to the surface. Even now, hours later, I wasn't entirely certain if I was completely in control. Y/N wasn't safe. The Soldier taunted me from within, yearning to be set free. To lay waste to everyone in sight. To finally meet the precious Y/N…

"NO!" I roared. The sound was feral, ripped straight from my core with the mere implication that the Soldier would get anywhere near my Y/N. My hands gripped the arms of the chair so tightly I could faintly recognize the sound of the frame cracking under my touch. He couldn't. I wouldn't let him. 

Desperation and panic overwhelmed my system as I raced to find a way to keep her from him -- from me. Her footsteps echoed closer, close enough now that I was certain even someone with average hearing could hear. 

"Y/N, don't! I'm not...STOP!" I choked. My fists released the chair roughly, splinters of broken fiber and wood clunking wildly against the floor as I jumped to my feet. Boots thudding across the floor, I made short work of the space and moved into the doorway. I intended to slam the door shut -- hopefully not hard enough to break the damn thing, but fast enough to stop her from getting in. Or to stop Him from getting out. I wasn't quite sure.

Regardless of the motive behind it, the door needed to close. To lock -- to put as much in between Y/N and I as I could manage. But as fast as I was, as fast as I could be, it wasn’t fast enough. 

Y/N’s sweet face filled the doorframe at the exact moment that my foot took the final step towards the threshold. I froze, internally divided and mind filled with so many thoughts that they blurred into a mere hum of static. The only discernible feelings I could make out from the buzz were panicked, frenzied. 

“Bucky…” she murmured, voice quiet as a mouse creeping through a home full of sleeping occupants. Breathing erratic and fists clenched painfully at my sides, I wildly stared at her gentle stance with horror. I was completely frozen -- unable to sift through the panic and dread raging within my head long enough to make a move. 

She looked as she always did: stance casual and facial expression peacefully neutral. I'd been fortunate enough in recent weeks to become familiar with all the intricacies of her beautiful features -- her nonchalant demeanor was often a trick, a facade she carefully constructed over years of brutal combat and torture. She was a spy to the core. But her mask had cracks, faults that only those who truly knew her could detect. A twitch of the eye or the finger was all it took for some to detect her hesitation -- but I knew her better than even that. 

They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Any trained soldier or criminal would tell you that they were absolutely right -- that anyone worth a damn could gather intel or win a fight based on the enemies eyes alone. I was no different. It was a fundamental fact of life that no one could truly hide the look in their eyes, and I could instantly determine most people's moods and intentions with just a brief glance. But, as I was slowly learning was the case for most fundamental truths, Y/N was a bit of an exception. 

It wasn't that I couldn't decipher the meaning lurking behind her Y/E/C orbs. On the contrary, I had an easier time picking out her thoughts from a glance than for most people. No, the difference with Y/N was that when I looked into her eyes I didn't just discover her true emotions. I felt them.

Currently, as we stood locked in a heated staring contest, her eyes held no trace of fear, no defensive alarm. Most people like us always mentally had one foot out the door -- an escape plan formulated out of sheer habit whenever we entered a room. She didn't. Y/N stood before me, completely devoid of any of her natural instincts as she surveyed me. She wasn't afraid.

She was worried. 

"Hey there handsome, why the long face?"

Her soft voice broke the tense silence that'd enveloped us, a twinge of humor evident in her tone. She knew all about the mission, about what I was fighting against, and yet she stood before me and teased. If I wasn't so god-damned terrified, I think I would've laughed. 

"Y/N, you have to -- I'm not...I can't --" I sputtered uselessly, praying to whatever higher power there was that she would understand. Desperately wishing that she would turn abruptly and leave. 

She was silent for a moment, eyes scanning me with soft contemplation. Her stance changed slightly -- her shoulders set back with determination and hands lifting slowly towards my face. I jerked backwards to avoid contact, eyes desperately pleading for her to understand. 

Her hand paused in midair, caught halfway between my body and hers. My breathing was still erratic and my chest was heaving with the effort it took to regulate myself. Instead of turning around and leaving like I desperately wanted her to do she took another step forward towards my shaking form. Deliberate and calculated, she stalked me slowly like a police officer approaching a suicidal suspect. My heart crashed wildly against my chest and the cacophony of thoughts in my head somehow became even louder. She couldn't -- why wasn't she stopping? 

"I've never been scared of you Bucky." she stated, voice impossibly soft yet firm. "Not for a moment. Not even when you're scared of yourself."

She inched slowly closer as she spoke until she was a hairbreadth away from touching me. My already overloaded senses were flooded with her presence. The sweet, familiar smell of her skin wafted up to my nose -- the scent a mix of lavender shampoo rising from her freshly washed hair and her own unique aroma. The wave of calm that seemed to envelope me whenever she was near began to seep into me slowly. The tornado of thoughts and panicked feelings hadn't completely subsided, but they began to slowly fade away as she got closer. 

Her gentle palm came into contact with the skin of my cheek with a feather-light touch. The gradual wave of peace that'd begun to encroach within my troubled mind suddenly clashed against the swirl of panic and fear inside my head at the soft feeling of her hand against my face. I gasped harshly, all the breath abruptly stolen from my lungs as the silent war within my mind came to a peak. The Soldier roared in fury -- livid at the attack against his release. 

A sob ripped through my chest as I felt my mind slowly become entirely my own once more. I lurched forward, arms wrapping tightly around Y/N's waist and face burying itself in the crook of her neck. Though no other words were spoken between us for the moment, Y/N didn't need any verbal cues in order to seemingly understand what I needed. One of her arms wrapped firmly around my body and wrenched me closer to hers as I cried. The other hand found its way into the hairs on the back of my head and began taking through them gently. I must have been disgusting at the moment; I hadn't done anything since returning to the tower, and I was certain she could feel the layers of grime, sweat, and blood that coated my skin. If she did, she didn't let it show. She cooed soft words of reassurance and love into my ears as she held me. 

Eventually, she maneuvered our still conjoined bodies to the edge of my bed and gently guided us to a seated position. My sobs were starting to slow as she continued to soothe my shaking form. Fat tears kept rolling down my cheeks steadily, but I was able to control the sounds and cries as I slowly calmed. Y/N's gentle coos also started to slow as I began to quiet down, though her fingers didn't stop their soft dance through my hair. 

"It's okay sweet boy, it's all over now," she whispered against the crown of my head, lips brushing against me with each gentle word. "You're okay Bucky, I'm here, I've got you."

 I let out a shaky breath as the sweet sounds of her voice flowed smoothly into my ears and I processed what she truly meant. A sudden wave of exhaustion overcame my body -- keeping myself upright and my eyes opened became more of a challenge than it should have. Ever perceptive, Y/N seemed to realize the struggle I was facing. 

She gently rolled my head off her shoulder and started to stand. A bolt of fear ran through my chest at the lack of contact, and my hand shot out like a bullet to grab her wrist. 

"Stay." I managed to croak out. My voice was hoarse, throat raw and aching from overuse. She looked at me with an expression of pure understanding, eyes sparkling with compassion and reassurance. 

"I'm not going far, don't worry," she soothed. Her hand came to rest over the top of mine and her thumb rubbed small circles over the tops of my bruised and bloodied knuckles. "I'll be right back, just lie down for a minute and rest, okay?"

Though my stomach still wrestled with the panic and desperation of wanting to keep her close, I allowed her to pry my fingers from her wrist and walk away. I slid my body back onto the bed and laid as she'd requested with childlike obedience. My eyes shut instantly as I allowed myself to rest but I fought against the sleep that threatened to overcome me. My half-asleep brain faintly registered the sounds of a tap running and the hum of the bathroom light flickering on. 

It wasn't long before I heard the soft padding of Y/N's footsteps drawing near and felt the bed dip under her weight. 

"Can you sit up for a moment?" her gentle voice wafted through my ears like honey. Drained and utterly out of it, I obeyed and slowly sat up. 

"Good. I'm going to help you, okay?"

I felt the warm, wet sensation of a wash rag being swiped carefully across the skin of my face. Internally moaning at the feeling, I sat patiently while Y/N carefully washed all the grime and dried blood from my body. My shirt had been shed not long after I'd come back -- in my half-crazed state it'd felt too small, suffocating.

She carefully swept the cloth over every inch of available skin I had. Under normal circumstances I would've been embarrassed, both of my bare skin littered with scars and of the outpouring of emotion I'd displayed, but I didn't feel even a shred of self-consciousness at the moment. No, whatever small bit of consciousness I could muster in my tired body was lasered into Y/N. Her gentle fingers danced across my skin, sending tiny shockwaves of electricity through me. I was overpowered by the smell of her unique scent surrounding me, by the aura of affection and safety she radiated around us. Words couldn't come close to describing the peace and contentment I felt surrounding me -- it was as if the entire world had melted away around us. I wasn't thinking about the Soldier, the mission, nothing. Hell I was halfway gone from being able to recall my own name at the moment. My senses and thoughts were entirely and wholeheartedly consumed by one single thing. 

Her. 

After some time, although I had no idea how much, Y/N finished her task and retreated to the bathroom to put away the rag and water basin. I shivered slightly at the sensation of cool air hitting my now clean skin and the lack of contact with Y/N's gentle hands. Unsure what to do, I sat lamely on the edge of my bed and waited as patiently as I could for Y/N to return. 

She exited the ensuite and flicked the light off behind her as she did. Even without the benefit of light I was still surrounded by the comforting embrace of her presence. The bed dipped slightly as she sat down, the bare skin of my arms prickling with sparks as her body settled next to me. She silently removed her shoes and began to scootch up the bed. 

Almost robotically, I copied her actions, kicking my boots off roughly and joining her near the headboard. Though I couldn't see her well in the dark of the room I felt her arms open wide in silent invitation. I readily accepted the comfort she offered, lying my head across her chest and arms wrapping around her middle firmly. I relaxed instantly into her embrace as she wrapped one hand around the back of my head and the other began running aimless patterns across my bare back. 

No other words were spoken between us that night. Sleep consumed me quickly as she held me and she followed not long after. The rest of our time was spent wrapped in each others arms, her offering quiet comfort and me reveling in the feeling of being protected for once. It became a ritual after each mission and most every night for us after that -- to lay in one another's arms as we slept. 

But nothin' is better sometimes

Once we've both said our goodbyes

Let's just let it go

Let me let you go

Time was running short, and I could tell I didn't have much time left with Y/N. Her breaths were growing more shallow by the second, the space in between them growing longer. Her eyes were still locked in to mine but the sparkle that they usually held was fading with each passing moment. There was a hole in my chest that ached as I struggled to hold myself together. I want sure exactly how much longer she was going to be able to hold on, but I didn't want her final memories to be filled with me breaking down. I shuddered violently with an ominous chill as I fought against the tears that'd collected in my eyes. 

My hands were busy, cradling Y/N gently against my chest and running though her hair. My lips brushed softly against the crown of her head, and I mumbled tender words that I hoped were somehow soothing. I slowly rocked us back and forth as I cooed, the warm flow of blood from her stomach squelching against the harsh dirt of the ground as I did. I peppered as many kisses as I could to whatever skin was available: her cheeks, forehead, nose, hairline. She didn't make much noise apart from a few small hums of contentment here or there as my lips connected to her skin. After what felt like an eternity and only a second all at once I felt her body begin to fall slack. Panic shot through my chest, and I clutched her tighter against my chest. 

"I'm so sorry doll." I whispered desperately. "I should've...I can't... I'm sorry."

I rocked her faster and held her tighter, hoping against all rationality that if I just held on tight enough that I could stop what was inevitably about to happen. I could no longer control my tears -- they flowed rapidly from my eyes in big fat droplets into the soft skin of her neck. 

"Bucky…" she muttered. Her voice was nearly inaudible and as I pulled reluctantly from my position against the crook of her neck I could instantly tell that she was nearly gone. I sucked in a breath and held it, entirely unsure as to what to do or say. Never one to let me struggle for long, Y/N smiled her truest, most beautiful smile up at me and raised her pale hand weakly to rest on my face. 

"I lo -- I love you. Don't be sorry. I love you." she murmured. Her voice sounded impossibly fragile. Even for as soft spoken as she could be at times I'd never heard her sound so small. But I wasn't thinking about her tone in that moment or what it meant -- my entire being was consumed by overwhelming feelings of adoration for the woman in my arms. Even with what could literally be her dying breath she was determined to express not her pain, regrets, or final wishes. No, she was using her last moments to tell me that she loved me. I choked down a sob from deep within my chest before replying. 

"I know doll. I love you too Y/N. I love you so damned much." 

She smiled faintly at the admission. Her lips quirked up only the smallest fraction, but I felt the familiar feelings of affection and love fluttering in my stomach as she did. The smile remained on her face as I felt her body go limp within my arms. She drifted away just like that: lying delicately across my lap with her head resting lightly against my chest. If I hadn't known better, I might have thought she was simply sleeping. Her eyes were still open -- the irises dull and pale, their natural sparkle gone in an instant. 

She was gone.

I shivered violently, crushing her now lifeless body against my own tightly as sobs of pure anguish ripped from my lungs. I was utterly consumed with grief -- my chest ached with the weight of my despair, the indescribable pain and loss rooting me to my spot. I stroked her bloodied and matted hair with shaking fingers and took deep breaths of her lingering scent, desperately trying to commit all I could about her to memory.

I could faintly hear the sound of sniffles and the shuffling of boots against the rocky ground as the team shifted around. Life was still working around me as I held Y/N's lifeless body, though it felt as if my entire world had stopped with the last beat of her heart. A hand grasped me from behind, grip tight on my shoulder. 

"Buck," Steve's voice drifted in my ears "It's time. We...we have to go home".

Unconsciously, I gripped Y/N tighter in my arms. I didn't move an inch, terrified of what I'd face once I did. Steve's hand squeezed my shoulder, and though I couldn't see his face from my position I could practically hear the grim determination he exuded. He'd been close with Y/N too; Steve had known her long before me, and their friendship had only grown as we'd gotten closer. Deep inside I knew this must've been difficult for him too, but I couldn't muster the strength to empathize at the moment. 

"I can't-- Steve I…" I sobbed. I didn't budge from my position. I couldn't explain the panic I felt; as broken and devastated as I was, I knew that as soon as I got up that things would be irrevocably changed. Steve didn't respond, nor did he move, but I could tell that he understood. 

We stayed like that for an immeasurable length of time, me sobbing and cradling Y/N's lifeless body and Steve silently standing behind us. Eventually the weight in my chest nestled deeper in my body, sadness dissipating like a mist into every fiber of my body. I felt numb, disassociated from life as I robotically stood. I gathered Y/N in my arms and silently began the walk to the jet. 

The sound of my boots crunching against the gravel was deafening as we walked, the once loud area of the battlefield deadly quiet. Y/N felt feather-light in my arms compared to the crushing weight of the grief that had made its home in my chest. But even that weight was nothing compared to the weight of the small box encased in the pocket of my tac pants. The tiny box that once held so much promise now weighed heavy against my leg with each step. The tiny silver and diamond band inside stripped of any hope, just like I was. 

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

[lizmaximoff]

Beast of Burden (2/2)

Jim Hopper x Reader

Summary: While changing up your set-list, you happen to find the wandering eyes of a handsome stranger across The Hawkeye Lounge. With the lyrics of a very suggestive song to aid you, you work up the courage to flirt with the Chief of Police from a few towns over. Second part to this.

Word Count: 3,657

Warnings: Significant Age Gap, Suggestive Language

Rating: M (16+) for Sexual Themes (Not Explicit)

A/N: The response from the first installment had literally made my heart swell with pride. Thank you guys so much for the feedback and notes; it has made writing this second installment so much easier. If anyone is curious about the song in this one, it’s “Cigarettes and Coffee” by Ottis Redding, which has always reminded me of Hopper. I thought it was fitting to use it in this fic.

(Gif Credit: @lucifersagents​)

MASTERLIST

Soon after you returned home last night, you found it incredibly difficult to fall asleep. The only thoughts that ran through your head were images of a certain Chief of Police in compromising positions. When you were finally able to rest easy, your mind continued your fantasies, dreaming of Hopper throwing you up against various surfaces in your tiny apartment while he devoured you completely.

You woke up to an annoying blare emitting from your alarm clock, cursing the device for ruining the best fantasy you had ever concocted. Growling roughly, you finally rolled out of bed and headed straight for the adjunct bathroom you shared with Sonny. Locking your door, you quickly stripped and turned the shower on, allowing your mind to drift to scenes from your dream. While you never heard the man speak, you could only imagine just how deep and gruff it sounded based off of his demeanor. The voice you created made you quiver.

You stepped into the shower, allowing the warm droplets to cascade off of your curves. You eventually allowed your hands to drift lower down your stomach as you thought of the man’s face travelling down your body, stopping above the heat in between your legs.

“You like that, baby girl?” he asked with a wicked grin on his face, peppering your lower abdomen with kisses, his beard scratching your uppermost thighs in a delightfully painful way.

You nodded your head vigorously, threading your fingers into his dark blonde locks, tugging at them, emitting a growl from the man below you.

“Say it,” he commanded, gripping a large calloused hand around on one of your ass cheeks, kneading the firm flesh as he lowered his kisses further south.

“Yes, chief,” you moaned, throwing your head back as he kissed lower, his breath hovering over your sensitive flesh before he dipped-

“Are you almost done in there? I have to take a shit,” came the world’s most annoyingly intrusive voice from your roommate.

“Jesus Christ, Son!” you hollered, quickly removing your hands from in between your legs. “Can’t you fucking wait ten more minutes?”

“No can do,” he said, not waiting for you to finish before he sat down on the toilet. 

“I can’t stand you,” you hissed, as you quickly washed off your body and exited the shower, grabbing your robe and tying it around your waist quickly.

“You love me,” he smiled, browsing through the latest copy of the local newspaper while he did his business.

“You’re lucky we’re practically family, you creep,” you said jokingly. “I really need to remember to lock the bathroom door on your side.” 

You went to the sink and began freshening yourself up for the day ahead, your stomach fluttering with nerves at the thought of going to your job tonight. After Sonny finished, he bumped your hips away from the sink to wash his hands, looking up at you in the mirror’s reflection. 

“So,” he said knowingly. “I was thinking we could add some songs to the list tonight. You know, so you can rile that burly dude up a little more than you did last night?” 

Your face blushed lightly before giggling, “And what songs were you thinking of?” 

After the two of you had discussed the songs, you eventually decided on doing the same set, adding only a song or two if the man decided to show himself. You thought that the odds of him showing his face were incredibly slim, but you still held out a little bit of hope for the sake of your growing libido.

The hours quickly passed, Sonny eventually leaving to start his own separate bartending shift. Looking in your closet, you looked for something that rivaled the confidence you felt in last night’s outfit. Shuffling through choices, your eyes landed on a silver, short dress that you only wore on nights out on the town. Biting your lip, your mind only drifted to the thought of the dress crumpled on the floor as you undressed Hopper on your bed. You shook your head, grabbing the dress and getting ready for the evening ahead.

You opted on loose curls that framed your face in a demure, yet seductive, way. The dress ended just past your fingertips, the fabric clinging tightly to your ass and hips, your breasts peeking out from the top of it. You paired the dress with a set of tall strappy silver heels, high enough to exude sex but low enough to not give you sore feet by the end of the night. You grabbed a silver shawl from the top of your closet and headed out the door, a pep in your step as your mind wandered to various scenarios for the end of the night ahead.

*******************************************************************************

You and Sonny had made it through five songs before you finally gave up on the man showing himself. Your emotions always showed on your face; it was one of the weaknesses you could never strengthen no matter how hard you tried. Soon, the songs you sang began to feel sad and depressing.

“You need to pull your shit together,” hissed Sonny. “Darlene doesn’t pay us to make the guests uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, turning your head towards him as he idly played the piano to fill the silence. “I just really hoped he would show up.”

“You are a sexy and empowered woman,” he shot back at you. “Any man would be lucky as hell to have you on his arm. Forget him. Do this for yourself, not anyone else.”

You smiled at him softly, “Okay. You’re right.”

“Now, how about we try out a new song?” he asked, his fingers beginning to play a tune the two of you had discussed earlier. “Remember, do it for you, no one else.”

You bit your lip and returned your eyes to the rest of the lounge.

It’s early in the morning

About a quarter til’ three

I’m sitting here talking with my baby

Over cigarettes and coffee, now

You smiled at Sonny, quickly forgetting the empty feeling you had in your stomach. When you returned your eyes to the bar, your eyes scanned the faces of the bar, clinging onto the smallest sliver of hope you had for Hopper. Your eyes quickly met Darlene’s, who was briefly distracted while talking to a large man dressed in a tight, tan police uniform. He looked so strong and- holy shit. Wow, are you an idiot? The man had been there the entire night, and your dumb ass didn’t even notice.

And to tell you that

Darling I’ve been so satisfied

Honey since I met you

Baby since I met you, oh

Your eyes had scanned the lounge several times with the intent on finding a man wearing a similar outfit; never did you even consider he would be wearing his work uniform. Hopper, who, Jesus Christ, looked absolutely delicious in the tight uniform, was swirling bourbon in a glass, laughing at Darlene before looking back up, making direct eye contact with you under the brim of his hat.

All the places that I’ve been around

And all the good looking boys I’ve met

They just don’t seem to fit in

Knowing this particularly sad, yeah

You smiled at him and sent a wink his way. His cheeks tinged a light pink shade, quickly finishing his drink before he got up and moved to stand against the wall a few feet away from you.

But it seemed so natural, darling

That you and I are here

Just talking over cigarettes and drinking coffee

He placed his hand on his waistband, looking you up and down with darkened eyes. He mouthed the words along with you, clearly having listened to Ottis Redding in his spare time, no doubt on a vinyl while smoking his own cigarettes.

I would love to have another drink of coffee, now

And please, darling, help me smoke this one more cigarette

I don’t want no cream and sugar

Cause I’ve got you, now darling

You and Sonny finished the song, your eyes glued to the Chief with a smile on your face and cheeks flushed, your body nearly falling limp as the man stared holes into your soul.

You turned to Sonny with bright eyes in silent questioning before he nodded and continued playing random notes on the piano. You looked at the Chief and walked past him, barley brushing his hips with your own as you headed to the bar.

“Your voice sounds like honey,” came a deep voice from behind you, followed by the feeling of a strong hand on your lower back. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard singing like that since Stevie Nicks in ’75.”

You blushed lightly, the compliment going straight to your heart. No one had ever complimented your voice, not even Sonny. It was just kind of a thing you did for yourself and your job, and people seemed to be okay with it, “Wow. That is a lot of praise. Thank you, Chief.”

The man straddled the barstool next to you before lighting a cigarette. After taking a drag, he offered it to you, “Help me smoke this one cigarette?” His eyes remained in a playful stare as he chuckled at the reference.

You leaned your head down and took a puff from the much larger man’s cigarette, blowing a faint ring of smoke in his direction, “You like the strong ones, I see?”

He smiled and returned it to his lips, “Hard and strong is the only way I do things, darling. Just like my drinks.”

“Speaking of which,” he said, beckoning for Darlene to join the two of you. “Let me buy you one. What’s your poison?”

“Surprise me,” you replied flirtatiously, biting you lip and allowing yourself to really take it the man up-close. You couldn’t help but notice just how blue the man’s eyes were up close, seeing darker blue specks scattered lightly around his pupils. Your breath hitched in your chest when he turned to meet your eyes, catching your stare. 

“You really enjoy staring a man down, don’t you?” he laughed. Turning to Darlene, he slid a crisp bill in her direction, “We’ll take two Old Fashioned’s.”

The bar owner quickly took the bill and smiled knowingly in your direction. You turned to him, “I’m sorry. I just...you’re a very intense-looking person...?”

God, you are a moron. If your lack of experience with men wasn’t evident by your age, then that statement just proved it tenfold. You looked away, grimacing at the immaturity apparent in your voice.

The man laughed deeply, “Don’t worry about it, doll face. I’m just teasing.”

You hid your face in your hands in an attempt to hide the deep blush forming. He reached out and lightly grabbed your hand, “Don’t hide that face. It’s a crime to cover up something so beautiful.”

Your heart started fluttering wildly in your ribcage. You looked at him and smiled brightly, “Oh, wow. You are quite the flirt, aren’t you?”

You giggled and placed your hand on the man’s upper thigh, feeling him tense at the contact before returning to his confident stature. He placed his hand on top of yours and drew circles over your soft skin, your stomach flipping when you saw just how large his hand was compared to your own.

“It’s really natural when you make it so easy,” he said, putting out his cigarette before Darlene placed the drinks in front of the two of you.

“I couldn’t help but notice you here last night,” you said, looking up at him under hooded eyes. “I’ve never seen you here before, but Darlene said that you come in here a lot during the week.”

He smiled devilishly, “You asked Darlene about me?”

“Only when she told me you kept asking about me,” you retorted back jokingly, taking a sip of the bourbon.

He choked on the liquid in his mouth, you clearly throwing the man off of his game. You gave his muscular thigh a hard squeeze, “Don’t die on me now, Chief.”

He coughed a little and managed to get out, “Jim. My name is Jim.”

Your eyebrows raised, thankful that you were finally able to put a first name to his face.

“(Y/N),” you said back, licking your lips as the man finally recovered from his coughs.

You couldn’t help but smile at him as you watched his walls come down just a little. You had the strangest desire to hold him and never let go.

“Well,” he said, placing the glass down on the countertop next to your nearly-empty one, “Darlene has nothing but nice things to say about you.”

“Yeah?” you said, tilting your head with your brows raised. “She’s a good wingman.”

He smiled at you and glanced down to your lips before going back to your eyes, “You? Need a wingman? Please.”

“Embarrassing, isn’t it?” you asked, looking away from him and back to Sonny, who was idly playing notes on the piano to some random sonata you’d never heard.

“It’s cute,” he said, cupping your cheek to make you look back at him.

“Oh, good,” you said with a giggle. “I guess I just wasn’t really aiming for cute with you.”

“What exactly were you aiming for?” he asked, his pupils dilating just a bit.

You downed the rest of your drink before grabbing his hand off of your cheek and pulling him to the small expanse of floor where a few couples had begun to sway to the music, “Just a little fun, I guess.”

You pulled the taller man up against your body, craning your neck up to meet his gaze. You had never talked to a man as smooth and sexy as Jim Hopper. His confidence went straight to your core, causing you to tremble slightly whenever his voice rang in your ear.

His arms wrapped around your waist as his laughter rumbled deeply in his chest, sending spikes of pleasure down your body, “So you can sing and dance? You’re a really talented young lady.”

“Young lady?” you quirked your brow. “I’ll have you know that I am very mature for my age, thank you very much.”

“Oh?” he asked, letting his hands drop to your waist and brining your hips in contact with his own.

“...yes. Yes, I am,” you stated, grabbing onto his chest.

“21 and already have years’ worth of experience under your belt?” he asked, looking down at you sinfully.

“I mean, generally speaking,” you said, rolling your eyes. “There are certain areas I still need assistance with. 

“I’ve been told I’m quite the teacher,” he quipped, leaning down to brush his lips against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His hands drifted down further to rest on the top of your ass. You whined softly at the contact, enjoying the swaying movement between your two bodies in time with the music.

You rested your head against the broad expanse of his pectoral muscles, allowing your hands to run up and down his sides as you listened to his heart beat pick up speed.

“I think I might take you up on that offer, Chief Hopper,” you said, glancing up at him through hooded eyes.

His breath hitched in his chest before he took your hand in his much bigger, more calloused one, “You wanna get out of here?”

You glanced back to make eye contact with Sonny, who had nodded his head so vigorously you were concerned about the state of his neck. This, along with Hopper’s soothing rubbing motions against your hand, convinced you to join the man for a nightcap.

“I’d like that,” you said, squeezing his hand and following him out the door to his police truck.

You both exited the doors of the tavern, you following close behind him, staring unabashedly at Hopper’s ass gripped by the tight fabric of his khaki pants. You looked up the broad expanse of his back before arriving at his car. He turned around abruptly and grabbed your hips, pinning you in place to the side of his Blazer.

“I’ve been curious about something,” he said, practically growling as he looked down at you.

You looked at him quizzically before he continued, “When you sing, your annunciation is so wide...your mouth is just really hot to look at, is what I’m trying to say.”

Your jaw slacked, his eyes immediately darting down to your parted lips. He lifted his thumb up and graced it along your bottom lip slowly, dragging several deep and shaky breaths from you. He leaned in slightly, bobbing his nose gently on yours before you heard a click and he was opening the passenger door for you, “After you.”

Your legs were wobbly as you got into the car, poking your ass out teasingly as you got inside, feeling Hopper’s eyes on your backside. The man quickly went to his end and started the engine of the car, his hand immediately attaching to the bare skin of your upper thigh, rubbing up and down teasingly.

Your body was on fire, the build-up and excitement becoming too much to bare. Without warning, you scooted closer to the man and began to lightly kiss the juncture between his neck and shoulders, lightly sucking until the man began to whimper. You gently guided his right hand higher up your thigh, feeling him just an inch away from your center.

“You’re such a tease,” you said, giggling against his neck. “How far away are we?” 

He grunted, “You didn’t peg me as an impatient one.” He began rubbing his hand up and down your thigh, squeezing gently when he got to the highest spot between your legs, leaving you as a puddle under his strong grip. 

Within minutes, the two of you arrived at a small cabin in the woods. While your senses were screaming at you to leave this stranger who brought you to a literal cabin in the woods, your mind was only focused on the feeling of having this man all over you at once.

You had never seen another person exit a car faster, Hopper running to your side and yanking the door open. He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you out of the car. Grabbing your hand, he brought you to the door of the quaint wooden cabin. 

Unwilling to help yourself, you grabbed him from behind, kissing whatever parts of his back you could reach, eventually reaching around to tease him around his waistband. As he struggled with finding the right key, you giggled, teasing him over the fabric of his pants. 

After he managed to unlock the door, he quickly pulled you inside and slammed you up against a nearby wall before slamming the cabin door shut with a kick of his foot. He began to attack your throat in hungry kisses, emitting primal whines from your chest. Looking up, he stared into your eyes and finally, finally, crashed his lips into yours. As he roughly smashed your mouths together, his mustache tickled your upper lip in the most sensual way, prompting you to slide your tongue into his mouth.

His tongue, which felt wide and warm against your own, danced with you, gently sucking on it in between breaths. Your teeth clashed lightly, and your mouths became one entity. You kissed him like he was oxygen and you had been drowning for months.

Pulling roughly on your hips, he guided you to the nearby couch, allowing room for you to straddle his lap. Never breaking the kiss, you separated from him harshly to catch your breath with a whine and a moan. You rolled your hips against his, feeling him through his pants. While every fiber of your being was screaming at you to keep going, your heart tugged when you looked down at the man underneath you. You wanted nothing more than to hold this man in your arms. More than anything, you wanted something more than just this.

“Jim,” you whined. “Wait.”

He opened his eyes quickly, concern clouding them and he reached up and cupped your cheek, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong?”

You heart soared at the care hidden behind his deep blue eyes, the longing in your chest becoming overwhelmingly intense.

“It’s just that I’ve never-I mean, I’m not exactly...” you said, beginning to trail off as you looked everywhere but at Hopper.

He moved your face towards him, “Hey, we don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. I’m a patient man.”

You chuckled under your breath, “It’s not that. I mean it is that, but it’s also that...I just-I really like you, Jim.”

He suddenly looked at you with softer eyes, your brain short-circuiting at all the emotions you could see in his eyes within mere moments of each other.

“I don’t want to rush whatever this,” you motioned between the two of you, “could turn out to be.”

He smiled gently, lightly grabbing your hips, and guiding you next to him on the couch, “Let me grab us some beers, okay?”

You nodded your head and watched as he went to the kitchen. Your mind suddenly conjured up scenarios of him getting you a beer from the fridge every day for the rest of your life. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, but something with Hopper made you strongly reconsider your stance on that.

After he handed you a beer, he sat down next to you with a smile, “So...(Y/N)...what’s your story?”

You smirked and began a conversation with him that would last until the early hours of the morning. Nights like that with Hopper became common, and, within a week’s time, you were able to return to that cabin and continue where your night had left off...in the arms the now-not-stranger you met at The Hawkeye Lounge. 

************************************************************************

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[livingmybestfictionallife]

Live Wire --The Dirt--

Little something I’ve been working on due to a lack of Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx fics.

Summary: Wren Ledden, Tommy’s best friend from high school has had a rough life and she intends to keep the nitty gritty details of her suffrage to herself until the day she dies. Only Tommy has gotten her to open up about a small portion of her troubles, and it’s only Tommy who she trusts with her life. That is until her life gets turned around sneaking into a concert one night...the same night Motley Crue is born.

Since westward expansion and the Gold Rush, all anyone in the United States could think about were the promises that seemed to lie buried within the jungled streets of chaos in California. It was where everyone wanted to be—the ocean was beautiful, Hollywood was booming, the mountains up north were to die for, and the music scene was evolving before the world’s eyes. It seemed like the perfect place for anyone with a dream and the will-power to achieve it; however, for Wren Ledden, California was a cage that, since a young age, she promised herself she’d find her way out of.

Wren was smart, driven, and talented, but never seemed to be in the right place at the right time, and as everyone knows, timing is everything. School was all too easy for her and she even managed to complete all of her gen-ed courses for college while she was still a junior in high school. By the time she graduated with her high school diploma, she had her associate’s degree and a ‘the-sky’s-the-limit’ attitude toward the rest of her life. Sure, she didn’t have the money to attend a fancy college and she didn’t know what the hell she even wanted to study, but she knew two things: one, she’d worked her ass off throughout high school, and two, she deserved a break.

“Why the hell do you study so much?” Wren heard her one and only friend from high school grumble as she laid on her back and read from a Rolling Stone magazine.

“Do you even know what the hell I’m reading?” she huffed as she tossed the magazine at the lanky boy’s face.

“Rolling Stone,” he commented with an airy tone as he stole a glance away from his reflection to look at the magazine that rested beside him. “Cool. I just assumed you were being a nerd.” The all too familiar snarky laugh she had heard resonate through her friend’s lungs since middle school echoed against the walls of his room.

“Shut up, asshole.” Wren’s lips curled up into a smirk as she flipped over from her resting position on his bed to sitting cross-legged and watching her friend primp. “I still can’t believe you’re going to this concert with what’s her nuts and not me,” Wren sighed in exuberant frustration as her eyes drifted from her friend to the posters that littered the walls of his room.

“Oh, come on, Wren, give her a chance; I bet you’d like her! She’s really cool,” he whined as he turned around from the mirror and turned down the tape playing over the speakers.

“I bet,” Wren said dryly as her mind drifted from her friend’s new girlfriend to the band he was taking her to go see tonight. “I’m just pissed because I turned you on to London in the first place, Tommy.”

“And I know we always said we’d go together, but I’m trying to get her to give them a chance.”

“So you’re taking someone who may not even like the show over me, your best friend and musical connoisseur?” Wren shot Tommy a pained look and pretended to clutch her heart as she flopped backwards on his bed.

“Look, if it means that much to you, I can cancel tonight and we can go.” Tommy’s big heart was something that had drawn Wren to him in the first place. Throughout high school, she was an outcast; Wren had a different upbringing from many of her classmates, including Tommy, which led to her inability to trust others. Middle school band brought Wren the only friend she’d ever need, someone to share her interests, who was able to break down her walls, and whose family gave her what she lacked in her own familial life. Tommy’s chaotic extroversion saved Wren’s dry-humored introverted time and time again. Tommy had always been fond of Wren and he even found her cynicism humorous, albeit at first he was only interested in dating her, but as they grew closer as friends, both Wren and Tommy realized they were bonded for life.

“Go on your date, Tommy,” Wren sighed as she watched the slightest hint of disappointment cross his eyes.

“Meet me at the diner afterwards?” He asked with big, begging eyes. “I want you to meet her.” Wren considered her options: spend another night crashing in Tommy’s parents’ guest room and annoying his little sister, Athena, or meeting what would probably be another week-long girlfriend he had fallen head-over-heels for.

“Sure,” she sighed only to catch his infectious smile growing onto her lips. “But that’s only if I don’t decide to sneak into the show behind you like we did with that punk band last month.”

“Why the fuck don’t you just come with us?” Tommy asked as he jumped up from where he was sitting on the floor and spun toward where Wren was still perched on his bed.

“I’m not dressed for the strip,” she said as she tossed her arms out to the side and examined her attire. A black leather jacket hung from Wren’s shoulders as a hand-made cropped black shirt dangled around her torso, baring just a portion of her midriff as black leather pants hugged her legs and chunky boots were laced around her feet.

“Yes you are, and if we didn’t already know this,” he said and gestured between the two “would never work, I’d even say you were hot.” Tommy said as he pulled his own black leather jacked over the mustard yellow t-shirt he wore, and then stuffed his drumsticks through the loop of his studded belt.

“These are just my normal clothes; you know the slutty shit girls wear out there,” Wren continued, trying her hardest to keep from becoming a third wheel on Tommy’s day.

“I’ll even pay for you!” her friend continued to beg for her companionship.

“So you’re taking both of us out tonight?” Wren huffed with a cocky and teasing smirk on her face. As Tommy thought through his proposition, he raised his eyebrows and pointed at his best friend with a curious and playful look spreading over his face, however Wren was quick to shut his wandering thoughts down. “Just sneak off for a bit once you get there and come to that janky fucking door in the men’s room to let me in.”

“I can do that!” Tommy said as he opened his bedroom door and ushered for Wren to come with him down the hall and into the kitchen. As she paced through the halls of a home she’d come to know all too familiarly, she tried to avert her eyes from all signs that reminded her she lived there. She hated having to rely on anyone besides herself. Her own ability to provide for herself was all she had ever known. Even when she still lived at home, her parents were too self-indulged and too busy fighting one another to notice their only child. At eighteen, they threw her to the wolves, ready to be rid of her—the thing that in their eyes kept them from having the life they’d wanted—and claimed she would never make anything of herself. Thankfully, upon hearing of her misfortune nearly ten months after the fact, Tommy called bullshit on Wren’s parents and his family opened their home to her. Wren was beyond grateful for their generosity, but overwhelmingly guilty for even finding herself in the position to put someone out in such a damning way.

“You’re not a burden to my folks,” Tommy would always say. “They love you like the daughter they never had; because their real daughter is nice and sweet, and not anywhere near as fucking metal as you.”

Tommy and Wren’s friendship was an odd one—everyone who saw the pair together could see that much. He was a colorful person who expressed everything outwardly, whereas Wren was often described as dark and introspective. At shows, Tommy would be flailing his limbs around, letting the music speak to his body while Wren let the rhythm and lyrics fill her soul. She’d tap her foot and bang her head on occasion, but would never lunge herself into the mosh pit and crowd-surf among other fans as Tommy had on more than one occasion. However unlikely the friendship maybe, it was strong and, on many occasions, too strong for Tommy’s dates to handle. Girls who dated Tommy never understood how he could be so close to Wren without wanting to fuck her, and their suspicion always got the best of them. This always led to an end in the relationship after a huge fight over an ultimatum between Wren or whatever flavor of the week he was tasting.

Regardless of the Bass family’s insistence on Wren’s presence being nothing but welcome, she found herself ridden by guilt each night she ate their food and took up space in their home. Getting out of the house and going to see London with Tommy—even if they wouldn’t be together during the show—could be exactly what Wren needs to get out of the mental funk she’d been finding herself returning to for months now.

Wren was fine with the sneaking around and the ridiculous plots Tommy would find himself cooking up on how to avoid “the Wren issue” with his dates while also making sure he’d have a good time if his date abandoned him at a show. It wasn’t uncommon for many of the girls Tommy brought around to cower away from the rock scene, and as much of a people person as Tommy was, he hated being at shows by himself. Tonight wouldn’t be the first time Wren hung around at a concert waiting for her best friend’s date to bail at the sight of a fight, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. Overall, she had fun: it was fun to sneak into clubs to watch her favorite bands, it was fun knowing that she was Tommy’s ride or die—the one who he knew would always be there to keep him company—and it was a hell of a lot more fun when the stuck up bitches bailed and she got to break out of her shell a tiny bit and join Tommy in the mosh pit for a song or two. Deep down, in the pit of her stomach, as she held her arms close and tried to ignore the subtly cool breeze floating through the Los Angeles streets, she knew tonight was going to be fun too.

“Fuck, Tommy, where are you?” she grunted. Wren leaned her back against the brick wall and kicked the bathroom door with the heel of her boot, impatient as to why it was taking him so long to come and get her. She accounted for the five-minute drive to his girlfriend’s house, and the five-minute drive back, but after standing in the chilly air for over twenty minutes, she allowed herself to grow impatient at Tommy’s tardiness. She knew in reality he was probably still waiting in the long ass line out front, so she tried to suppress the temper that usually came with her impatience. Tilting her head up and gazing at the sliver of sky between the buildings surrounding her, Wren let the cool air flow over her hot cheeks. Just as she was about to step away from the wall and peer around the corner to see if she could spot Tommy’s leopard printed ass in the sea of people waiting to get in, she heard the rusty creak of the alley door open and poked her head inside.

“Finally,” she sighed as she made the small jump from the ground up through the slightly elevated bathroom floor. “I thought you forgot about me Tomm—you’re not Tommy.” The bar was always dark and dingy, and the bathrooms were even more so than the rest of the establishment, however she was always easily able to distinguish her friend from other men. A tall man, no more than three or four years older than her, stood before her with a cigarette between his lips and a lighter in his left hand as his right hand grasped what appeared to be a glass of either whiskey or bourbon on the rocks. He wore a dark leather jacket with what appeared to be a dark shirt underneath and dark leather pants. His overall demeanor seemed to be in stark contrast of Tommy, and Wren straightened her posture and tone from hunched over joking banter to straight-line intimidation standoff.

“What the fuck are you doing?” the man asked once the alley door closed. He assumed that she wouldn’t want a confrontation and that she’d retreat from the venue out of submission or intimidation, but Wren’s eyebrows quickly stitched into a skeptical glare as she stood her ground. The man before her still had his lighter flicked open and a small flame burned in his hand while his hazel eyes peered down at the young woman. He tried to stand up straighter in order to intimidate her into explaining herself, but he got a sense nothing would make her stand down. She had fierce, cold eyes that seemed to cut right through him and in an instant of impatience, he opened his mouth to repeat himself, only to have her speak over him.

“What does it look like?” she scoffed and folded her arms over her chest. The man’s narrowed eyes, tense jaw, and teased, long black hair was nothing more than an obstacle keeping her from having a good time at a show she’d been dying to see.

“Looks like you’re sneaking in,” the man said with an arrogant smirk as he cocked his head to the left and took in the woman’s appearance.

“Congratu-fucking-lations,” Wren smirked, “you regular Sherlock Holmes.” Dropping her arms to her side, Wren took a long step forward to side-step the man in front of her only for him to take a quick step to his left and puff out his chest. “Come on, man,” she sighed. “You can’t be that much of a dick!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” he smirked devilishly. He was certain the woman would crack and turn away to save herself the humiliation of continuing to linger in a men’s room, but the self-assured grin that traveled onto her face only caused his eyebrows to furrow in curiosity.

“You may be a dick, but you’re nothing but talk,” Wren stated and placed her hands gently on her hips, allowing herself to be in as vulnerable of a position as she could be in a situation like this in order to show how unafraid she was of the man before her. “I, on the other hand, have the balls to follow through. So, thanks for the, whatever the fuck public decency lecture that was, but I’m going to step around you now and watch what I expect to be a kick ass show that I’m, frankly, too damn broke to afford to see the ‘appropriate’ way,” Wren stated while using air quotes. “I’m also too damn broke to afford a drink, even in a hole like this, so,” without any warning, she slipped her fingers around the glass the man was holding, plucked it from his hand, and sent the burning, icy liquor down her throat in one large gulp, “thanks for the Jack, even if it is a pansy-ass whiskey if you ask me.” With nothing more than a light shoulder check, Wren took a long stride past the man standing in her way, and carried herself high as she paced past the line of men at the urinals watching the scene unfold, before she emerged into the bar.

It only took her about ten minutes to find Tommy in the masses of concert goers, and throughout the night, she managed to keep him in her sights just in case his date bailed; although at the end of the night, she was still pressed against the back of the venue, being forced to squint in order to make out which band was playing, while Miss Blondie hung close to Tommy. Wren had to hand it to the girl, she wasn’t like the other chicks Tommy brought to shows in hopes of turning them on to the rock scene. Even when the bassist of London threw a heavy hitting punch at the band’s lead singer, she didn’t run off like Wren had expected. Sure, she jumped back in awe as the rest of the crowd shouted either obscenities of shock or encouragement, but she didn’t run, and that deserved at least a little respect from Wren.

As bouncers rushed toward the stage to separate the two band members, other employees of the bar acted as ushers to escort the numerous patrons of various stages of intoxication out of the venue and into the streets to have a better chance of breaking up the fight without a brawl. Wren tried to call out for Tommy’s attention, but a slight panic came over her as she noticed a cop picking out another sleazy freeloader who had snuck in through one of the other weak points in security. Wren retreated the way she had come in—through the dank and abysmal restroom, leading into a dingy alley—and then disappeared into the crowd that dispersed along the sidewalk of the Sunset Strip.

Continue Reading: Next Chapter

[peach-jaehyunie]

You Were Beautiful Part IV

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (oral, pegging, bondage, vanilla as f*ck, etc.), {not really warnings} fluff, angst

Word Count: 11.3 k

Previous

Lyrics by Cigarettes After Sex, song: Sesame Syrup

A/N: There will be an epilogue, simply because this was getting too long

“You’ve had a long list of lovers, but none of them mattered to you except me. I’ve had a long list of lovers, but none of them mattered to me except you.”

“Have you told Jaehyun you love him?” Misook asks you point blank one day. The two of you have been hanging out together, mostly for a quick coffee or lunch.

“What!” You sputter, choking on your hot tea.

“I noticed, but I don’t think anyone else has really noticed so you’re safe.” She assures upon you upon noticing the look of terror that crosses your face. Over the past few weeks, the thought of telling Jaehyun you loved him became less terrifying. You ran the words over in your mind and they made you smile. You thought them when you and Jaehyun were debating the possibility and probability of the existence of aliens. And you thought of them when you went to sleep at night, and let the warm, comforting feeling wash over you. You accepted it as fact now, but it was still your secret—well, and now Misook’s.

“Would it be awkward if you were at my dress fitting?” Misook asked.

“Yes,” you laugh shaking your head at this ridiculous situation.

Jaehyun is a frowner. And a spontaneous smiler. It’s been almost three months, and the Jaehyun you casually knew was more of an idealist and less curious than the man you were in love with now.

“Do you see it as half-empty or half-full?” He asks placing a glass of water on the table in front of you.

“Do you ever think you’re boring?” You ask looking up from your book, not sparing a glance at the glass of water.

“No, I like all the stuff I enjoy doing—I asked first!” Jaehyun laughed and pointed at the glass as he sat down opposite you. You put your chin on the table, and Jaehyun did the same so you could look at each other through the glass.

“It depends on how thirsty I am.” You finally shrug at him with a grin, and he reaches under the table and pinches your bare leg. You squeal and then scream as he jumps to his feet, causing you to scramble from your chair and run across the apartment trying to escape his reach. Jaehyun soon traps you in his arms as you have no place run where you won’t be cornered. He throws you over his shoulder, and you squirm in his grip between giddy laughter and light pants of breath. He drops you onto the couch before climbing on top of you and pinning you down.

“Do you ever think you’re boring?” Jaehyun asks you, his face is inches from yours and his hair brushes your forehead.

“Often,” your heart is still beating fast from the adrenaline rush you had just gotten. You reach up with your hand to touch him and his grip on your wrist slackens and then finally lets go so that you can brush his hair back from his face. He smiles and his cheeks dimple as he leans into your touch and his eyes gently close. He brings your other wrist up to his face and places kisses all over your hand and on the soft skin on the inside of your wrist. You continue to stroke his hair as Jaehyun kisses below your ear and down your neck, before resting his head on your chest with a sigh of contentment. He lets go of your other wrist so that you can hold him against you, and his hand travels easily up the shirt of his that you are wearing to slide his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, to rest his hand on your hip, before falling asleep there.

“Jaehyun,” you softly say to wake him, and your hands stroke his shoulders and back. He stirs and gently awakes before quickly looking up at you, and in those moments of looking into your eyes after sleep breaks his heart a little; because it feels to him as if you’re already looking at him to say goodbye.

————————————————————————-

“I’m so tired, I really have to get going.” You grimace in apology to Johnny. It’s a lie. You’re going over to Jaehyun’s so the two of you can put on facemasks together.

“We barely ever see you anymore,” Johnny says following you to the door of his apartment, he pouts at you and brushes his hand against your arm.

“Johnny, we work together; we see each other every day!” You laugh and brush your hand against his arm in return. “I promise I’ll see you on Friday night, Saturday night, and Sunday morning.”

Jaehyun excuses his way out of Johnny’s apartment soon after you and arrives home to you already with his new playlist started, getting into your pajamas.

“Hurry up and get into your pjs, Mister.” You say as you slap Jaehyun’s ass and skip out of his bedroom. You have a selection of sheet masks spread for the both of you to choose. After you both pick a mask he nudges you and you look up at him and it’s always the same feeling: the quickening heartbeat and the overwhelming feeling of love for him.

“We both chose firming masks,” Jaehyun whispers with a laugh “we must be getting old.” Yes, but not together you think sadly.

When you are standing together in front of the mirror in his bathroom putting on the masks your eyes meet. You both look rather comical trying to smooth down all the corners and tuck it in around the nose. You don’t know why, but you laugh, completely ruining the positioning of your mask. It’s contagious, and Jaehyun is soon laughing but he runs out of the bathroom complaining about the mask getting crinkled. You take some deep breaths to calm down your laughter, but as soon as Jaehyun enters the bathroom straightening his mask you burst into hysterical laughter again.

“Oh my fucking god,” He mutters running out again trying to control the contagious laughter. “Stop fucking laughing!” Jaehyun falls to his knees laughing as he says this from the hallway. You’re laughing so hard that can’t breathe, and you’re clutching your stomach as you sit down on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun has crawled to the bathroom door and he hides his face from you as his body shakes with laughter.

“No,” you cry, there are actual tears now and you try to breathe in to stop laughing. You fix your mask with a deep breath, willing yourself to keep a straight face when you finally look at Jaehyun. Your mouth tries to curl up at the corners “I’m fine, it’s okay.” You reassure him, but you quickly avert your eyes just to be safe.

Soon you are sitting cross-legged across from one another holding each other’s hands.

“Tell me about this one time when you were pegged.” You tell him, and Jaehyun lazily strokes the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Well, I lied...it was more than once. I actually really liked it.”

“Do you want me to do that?” You ask, forced to conceal the smile that pulls at your mouth.

“Yes, I would love that.” He says with a squeeze of your hands.

“How old were you when you first had sex?” Jaehyun quizzes next.

“Eighteen,”

“Was he any good?”

“She was nice, and we enjoyed it, but that was nothing compared to you.” His ears blushed pink at your confession.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” You ask.

“Hm, I remember wanting to be a singer, but I also thought being a detective would be cool. I never seriously looked into anything else because I knew that someday I would take over my family’s company.” He shrugged. You leaned over to place a kiss on his hand.

“Do you want children someday?” He asks.

“Yes,” he always asks the questions that hurt.

“How many do you want?”

“Two or three,” you tell him as a lump begins to form in your throat. Jaehyun squeezes your hands as you avert your eyes, afraid of what you might give away.

“I love you.” He says softly, almost as a reminder. As if you need to be reminded of that; it was all you could think about, it consumed you and sometimes came crashing down on you drowning out the rest of the world.

“What does it feel like saying that?” Your voice betrays you slightly by cracking.

“It’s painful, but it’s also like being able to breathe again.” Jaehyun’s words are heavy, but you think that breathing again might be nice.

“How long have you loved me?” And you scan his face, which remains expressionless because of the mask, waiting for his answer.

“Eleven months,” you are both quiet after he says this.

“Do you enjoy taking risks?” He finally asks after a minute.

“Sometimes...if I hadn’t we wouldn’t be here right now.” Your heart had never beat so fast, but you were more in love with Jaehyun than you had been with anyone else in your whole life.

“I’m glad you took that risk.” He says with the smallest smile and his gaze drops to his and your clasped hands.

“Jaehyun,” you licked your lips, and he looked at your face again “You took a bigger risk because you were in love and I wasn’t.” Wasn’t, wasn’t, wasn’t; not ’am not’...because you were now and what if you missed the chance to ever say it. There was nothing you wanted to say to him more, you wanted to tell him every day, and you wanted him to know every minute of every day that you loved him back. Jaehyun noticed your wording, and his breathing became noticeable and he squeezed your hands so tightly they hurt. Say it, say it, say you love him, you coward. The seconds seemed like minutes, and the timer on Jaehyun’s phone went off causing you to jump. He lets go of your hand to silence his phone and quickly pull off his sheet mask.

“Are you now?” He asks grabbing your hand again as his eyes search yours for some sort of answer.

“Yes,” you breathe, and Jaehyun seems to grow smaller “I love you.” You finally croak, and then you feel the weightlessness as you see Jaehyun’s expression soften. It’s as if you can suddenly breathe, you have finally allowed yourself to live your truth. You pull off your mask “I love you, I love you,” Your voice is stronger every time and you have moved closer to Jaehyun and your eyes’ never leave each other. “Jaehyun, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” And he’s cupping your face, which is damp and sticky with mask essence. Then it’s his lips and your lips, you feel that your chest might explode because of how right this feels. The touches are soft and exploratory in a new way, and slow because this is not a desperate act between two people. It feels like this was meant to happen; everything in life has been leading to this moment. His weight pressing you down onto the floor is perfect, every sharp intake of air is perfect: maybe you were wrong, maybe perfection does exist—this was your perfection. Anyone else’s perfect was different, but you had found yours. The secret was out, and it had never felt closer, never felt deeper, and you had never felt more alive while drowning in love.

What you feel in the morning must be happiness, but not the joyful kind. This was mature, fulfilling happiness; not the kind you ever thought existed until one day you just suddenly knew it did. ‘I love yous’ were muttered against each other’s lips, and whispered in ears, and breathed against skin. Every mark sucked onto your body feels different, and the sharp bites on Jaehyun’s neck and hips are out of love. The best part now is that he knows. He knows as he fucks you against the shower wall, or when he bends you over the kitchen counter and covers your mouth with his hand to muffle your moans. He knows when he goes out for late night drives, and you’re falling asleep in the passenger seat as his playlist of mellow love songs envelopes you. He knows you really mean it when you say “Let’s make love on the couch.”, and he knows this is going to hurt like hell in the end.

Jaehyun savours your taste, and the way you grip his hair as he eats you out. Little whimpers fall freely from your lips as his tongue strokes from your slit to your clit. You’re propped up on pillows so that you can watch him, and he makes eye contact with you while he gently sucks your clit. You don’t dare break the eye contact as he continues to suck, lick, and flick the sensitive little hood, and you spread your legs wider as he slips a single slender digit into your wet sex.

“Jaehyun,” you gasp his name, and the sound falls from your lips like it’s the most beautiful word. “ah...yes, yes—no please don’t stop, don’t ever stop” you breathe as he teases you by removing his mouth. You can feel the cocky smile that he tries to hide from your gaze as he places wet kisses along your inner thighs and adds a second finger inside of you. Your cunt squelches from the movement of his fingers which disgusts and, simultaneously, turns you on.

“You sound so good, baby,” Jaehyun growls before swirling his tongue around your clit. Your hips buck up against his mouth and hand, as your head rolls back and a loud whimper slips past your lips.

“Shhhh” Jaehyun breathes against your core “Remember baby, it’s too early for that.” The kisses he places on your hip and lower belly are tender, but he harshly pinches your nipple with his free hand. You gasp and quickly cover your mouth. His fingers fuck you slowly and his mouth is everywhere but where you most want it. You only allow the softest and breathiest moans to slip from your mouth as Jaehyun’s fingers repeatedly graze the sensitive spot inside you.

“That’s better, darling, you were going to wake people up. You’re such a noisy little girl.” He calmly tells you above your light noises, and his mouth quickly returns to pleasuring your little nub. He expertly coordinates the movement of his fingers and his tongue as you lift your hips up off the mattress. His free hand pins your hips to the mattress, and his fingers fuck you faster as you begin to feel an overwhelming sense of warmth in your lower belly and core. Jaehyun’s tongue flicks your clit soft and fast, sometimes alternating between light licks and swirls, but he knows it’s the licks that you like most. The build up to your climax is hot and glorious, and you hold it off for as long as possible—until his fast tongue motions send you over the edge as you squeeze his head between your thighs, and screw your eyes closed tightly as your toes curl in pleasure. Gasps and high moans slip gently passed your lips, and your hand is ready to cover your mouth in case you become too loud. As your orgasm subsides, Jaehyun’s fingers gradually slow to a stop and the licks he places on your core are long and gentle, as he’s careful of your sensitivity right now. He tenderly kisses up your body and lays beside you. Jaehyun encourages you when you roll over to half lay across him by embracing you and pressing kisses to your face and neck. You gladly kiss Jaehyun back and open your mouth to him to make the kiss deeper. This should never end, but both of you are very aware of the calendar on the desk and the letter of acceptance for a PhD program addressed to you that lies next to it. Neither of you is willing to admit that this scares you; the love, the dependency, and the parting. Jaehyun hasn’t asked you when you’re leaving, but you know that he knows the day and he’s just as afraid to talk about it as you are.

_________________________________

The secret keeping from everyone gets messy as you and Jaehyun spend more time with each other. The lies become worse and worse: Jaehyun tells Mark that he spent the night at his parents one morning as Mark stands outside of the door to Jaehyun’s apartment, and Jaehyun quickly leaves your bed to meet his friend; your parents catch him in a background during a Skype session, and you introduce him as your neighbour that needed to use your kitchen; Yuta questions it when the lady who lives across the hall from Jaehyun knows your name—and you can’t think up an excuse.

“Mrs. Kang is dropping off a parcel that got delivered to her instead of me, so can you get it from her when she stops by?” You ask Jaehyun one morning as you get ready for work, slipping out of one of his button-down shirts and into the shower.

“Of course,” and he pulls your naked body up against his before you can step into the stream of water, to place a kiss against your lips with a smile. Jaehyun goes back to cutting up fruit for your lunch, which he occasionally enjoys making and packing for you. There is a knock on the door, and Jaehyun quickly rinses his hands and goes to answer it. Two boxes he helped you pack last night sit peacefully next to the door, ready to be sent back to your home and he feels a little piece of his heart break off when he sees them. Was this what you had felt the other day when you saw his wedding tuxedo in his apartment? Jaehyun remembered you averting your eyes when you realized what it was. He is somewhat distracted by the boxes as he opens the door, but standing there is not Kind-but-No-Nonsense Mrs. Kang; it’s Johnny Seo. They are both obviously taken back, neither finding who they expected on the other side of the door.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun starts when he sees Johnny eye him up and down, but his voice fades when he remembers that he is still in his pajamas and there is no way to possibly talk his way out of this. Johnny pushes past Jaehyun into the apartment and stands listening to the shower run, with the younger man standing next to him looking down at his feet.

“You’re so stupid,” Johnny says sadly, shaking his head. “I mean, why now? Why not a year ago? Why not never! Are you just trying to hurt yourself?”

“I love her,” Jaehyun says quietly and he raises his head to look at his friend.

“I know,” and Johnny turns to him, “I know you do.” Johnny notices the boxes now, and their address.

“Look, I’m not going to tell you what you can or can’t do with your life—break your own heart, whatever—but don’t break hers.”

It’s too late for that Jaehyun thinks. Johnny goes to leave, though he has never made it clear why he came in the first place.

“Oh,” Johnny begins, and then he swallows as if he has a lump in his throat, “Tell Y/N that Kun’s going away party is tonight right after work, so if she wants to wear something special she should bring it with her to work.”

“Why couldn’t you text her that?” Asks Jaehyun, though he nods his head to indicate that he will tell you.

“She’s leaving in three weeks, I want to say as much as I can to her face.” Johnny turns slowly and walks out the door, but just as Jaehyun is closing it his hand reaches out to stop it.

“One last thing,” says Johnny, and Jaehyun has an urge to force the door close to shut the two of you off from the rest of the world. “Did you sleep with her before or after the engagement announcement came out?” He knew, and there was no point in lying to him.

“Before,” Jaehyun says grimly, and he frowns as he puts pressure on the door, but Johnny does not recede.

“That was a fucking jackass move, you had months to tell her. You’ll never get to see Y/N’s face that night, and I’ll never forget it.”

————————————————————————————

“Let’s go away next week,” Jaehyun suggests one evening during dinner. “You’ll be done work, and then it can be just the two of us with no obligations to anything. Let’s be nothing but in love for a week.” His words make a piece of your heart fracture, this was going to be over too soon. The days were rushing passed, and you wanted nothing more than to slow the universe down so that you could at least savour every short second you had left with him.

“Okay, that sounds nice.” You smile at him, but sometimes something as simple as looking at him makes you nearly choke with tears now. You swallow them, it’s too soon for that and you don’t want to ruin what time there is. “Considering the time differences in the places we were born, we were born just two months and one hour apart.” You tell him, and you smile but your lips quiver. Maybe it was flower arrangement samples on the table that Jaehyun was supposed to choose from or the property listings that sat untouched on his desk, where he was supposed to look for the perfect house to live in with Misook. Yes, you needed to be far away from the apartments that reminded you of nothing else but the impending separation.

Johnny never says anything to you, but Jaehyun told you that he knows. You silently thank him every day; for treating you the same, for respecting it; even if he saw better than you and Jaehyun that you were just breaking your hearts for each other. Being with Jaehyun is bliss, though. The little arguments about the same things that aren’t that important are perfect; waking up together with messy hair is perfect; adjusting to each other’s idiosyncrasies is perfect. You want no one else, you want nothing else. Jaehyun never asks for you to give up a career you spent years studying for. He never asks for you to stay here and continue teaching while being his mistress, and you are grateful for that. He encourages your ambitions and he asks about your family and home life. You tell him where your favourite places to play as a child were and your favourite games, and you tell him that you want to raise your own children in the house you grew up in.

“It’s perfect for hide and seek because there are all these small hidden closets.” And Jaehyun lightly strokes your face as you say this because you light up while talking about it.

———————————————————————————-

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” You ask leaning against Jaehyun’s car while he insists on loading your bags so they’re packed correctly.

“No—what the hell is in this, it’s so heavy! It’s summer, we’ll be near the beach, why are you bringing so much?” He huffs as he packs one larger suitcase next to his and then places a smaller bag of yours on top.

“Open it,” you say with a sly grin, gesturing to the top bag. He returns the sly expression before carefully unzipping the bag.

“My favourites,” Jaehyun says dramatically as he lifts a pair of green leather handcuffs out of the bag and clutches them to his chest. He rifles through the rest of the bag, nodding his head approvingly until something catches his eye and he stops with a sharp intake of breath.

“Is that...?”

“A strap-on? Yes,” You say in a voice smooth as honey, but you watch him intently to read his reaction. He smiles at the bag, and then at you, he smirks before zipping the bag up.

“We should’ve bought that sooner.” He leans over and whispers in your ear.

“Well, I would have if someone wasn’t so shy about what they like. Oh, I have a very fun game that I’d like to play this week, so I hope you made what I asked you to.” You say as he closes the car door and you each walk around to either side to get in.

“I did, but I really wish you would tell me what it was for.” He whined as he sat in the driver’s seat.

“You’re such a skeptic,” you laugh at him and pinch his cheek, “Don’t worry, you’ll love it.” Jaehyun grins at you before grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it.

“Ready?” He asks.

“Yes,” that was a lie, you weren’t; the sooner you spent this week together, the sooner you wouldn’t see each other again.

You were not the only people with the idea to get out of the city during the sweltering heat. Jaehyun’s hand rested high up your thigh as you sat in traffic, and you were so attracted to him that his hand there made you extremely aroused. You had felt tingly for nearly an hour and were no doubt quite wet. With each passing minute, it felt as if his hand was just slowly creeping up your bare thigh towards your core. You were completely surrounded by other cars and other people when Jaehyun’s hand was finally brushing against your panties, your dress had ridden up so far with his touches that your underwear was nearly visible. You pretend that you don’t notice his hand and he doesn’t move it at all as it rests there. You spare a quick glance, pretending to look at something in his direction; he’s smirking, you know exactly what he’s doing. You try your best to hide the smile that pulls at your lips, and you slide down further in your seat so his hand presses a little more firmly against your centre.

“How are you doing?” He asks as you sigh and close your eyes, pretending like you’re going to take a nap but you’re just irritated by his teasing.

“I’m fine, I could be a lot better.” And your thigh twitches beneath Jaehyun’s fingers. You can hear the smirk in his next words.

“I’m sorry my darling, is there anything I could do to make it better?” His thumb gently strokes your thigh, he’s not going to do anything that you don’t directly ask him to do. You blush heavily and check the cars around you to see that all their occupants are only focused on what they’re doing. You won’t ask him to touch you, that’s degrading when you’re not in a begging mood. You lean your arm up against the window to support your head while also hiding part of your face, and with your other hand, you gently play with the hem of your dress before lightly rubbing yourself over your panties. Jaehyun’s expression is amused “Are you sure there’s nothing you want, baby?” You shrug and just sit there for a minute before running your hand up and down your thigh. The traffic gradually creeps forward, and just when you hit a slight break and can move a hundred feet forward you lightly guide his hand over your centre. He lazily massages you through the thin material. The traffic is stop and go once again as Jaehyun rubs you through the material, but it’s not enough for what you really want. He hums happily, to any onlooker he probably didn’t look like a guy that was about to a finger a girl in the passenger seat.

“Anything else you might like to make the car ride better, darling?” He asks very nonchalantly as if he wasn’t massaging you between your legs. You’re not going to move your underwear for him, and you don’t want to have to ask nicely, but Jaehyun is the competitive sort and he hates to lose or be left out.

“Jaehyun, look if you’re not up for the job I can just do it myself.” You snap as you pull your thighs closed, but before you can extricate his hand he uses it to pull your thighs back open. You hide your smirk as Jaehyun moves to prove you wrong and show you just how up to the job he is. He doesn’t rush, but his actions as he pushes your panties to the side are very deliberate and a wee bit rough. You’re embarrassingly slick already as his finger slowly strokes you. He still hums a little as you sigh in pleasure and contentment. Jaehyun rubs circles on your clit until you’re biting back gasps that threaten to spill from your lips. You’re so close to cumming when he backs off a little, he’s doing something you’ll never tell him you love. He brings you to the edge of orgasming three more times, so it sits like a fiery ball of pleasure and pressure inside of you. The circles he draws are slow and teasing, and then he changes that tempo to quick flicks and then he rubs in circles with slightly more pressure. There is no holding back now as your eyes screwed tight shut as you brace yourself with your arm against the window and you whimper as your climax consumes you and licks at your insides. Your orgasm washes over you in waves that gradually ebb away. Jaehyun guides you through it, his attention never dwindling, while he also steers gracefully through the traffic that seems to be opening up. You look over at his profile, his hand still rests caressing your thigh and his chin is slightly tucked which allows you to see his slight double chin. You smile to yourself and the sun streams in the car window, bathing you in its golden light. Once you’re on the highway and really moving Jaehyun turns on the playlist he made for this trip; it’s soft and summery, you feel like you should be in a convertible with your hair flying everywhere and getting into your mouth whenever you try and speak. You are almost asleep, and his hand feels wonderfully warm against your skin and you can’t help but think that you would happily drive across multiple countries with him.

“Jaehyun,” You murmur and turn your head to look at him.

“Mm-hmm,”

“I love you.” He looks over at you with a smile as these words leave your mouth. Jaehyun brings one of your hands to his lips and gently kisses it.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

As soon as the car is emptied and the bags are in the little beach house you jump into Jaehyun’s arms.

“Hello, darling,” he smiles as he kisses you.

“Hi, lover,” you say as your lips form a smile against his. Jaehyun carries you as he walks to the couch and sits down. You are straddling him as you sit in his lap while holding and kissing each other. It feels wonderful, an ocean breeze drifts through the open window accompanied by the chirping of birds and insect noises. Jaehyun leans his forehead against yours, “What do you want to do?” he purrs against your skin.

“Mmhhm, have a tour?” You reply as you pull away to look at the little house you’re in. Jaehyun doesn’t miss a beat as he cockily smirks and begins to unbutton his shirt with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

“Well, I mean gladly, but it’s not like you haven’t seen it many times.” You groan and hit his chest when you realize that he’s talking about his body. “Okay, okay,” he concedes as you get off his lap and he places kisses on your hands and one more on your forehead once he stands up. The cottage is small but comfortable, the ground floor being a small kitchen, living room, with the first bedroom and bathroom. The second floor is a loft bedroom with lots of windows, a private bathroom, and a small corner desk; trees shade the afternoon sun from the west. A neighbouring rooftop can be seen through the tree foliage, but otherwise, the cottage is extremely private from the dense trees and shrubs. To the east, the sea is visible.

“The sunrise will be over the ocean here.” You say with a smile as Jaehyun hugs you from behind, and he holds you close as he sways from side to side placing kisses behind your ear. You can smell the sea in the breeze that floats through the room and your mind feels as if it’s in a little lull as Jaehyun slowly backs both of you up before falling into bed together.

————————————————————————————

You wake up from your nap hungry and roll over to find Jaehyun gone. Soon this will be normal, soon you’ll never wake up to Jaehyun again. A pen and unused letter paper sit on the nightstand, and your chest hurts at the thought of losing him.

“Hey, darling, you’re awake,” Jaehyun says softly and pulls you out of your reverie.

“Where were you?” He had startled you, but you try to brush that off with your demanding tone.

“I had to mail something.” He sits down on the bed, and he looks at you with an expression that is sad but also happy.

“Do we have any food?” You ask sitting up and you reach your hand out to hold his.

“No, we’ll have to go shopping.” Jaehyun murmurs against your head as you lean into his chest. His hand rubs circles into your back while you breathe in Jaehyun’s intoxicating scent. This was going to be the most difficult two weeks of your life; it’s only been a few hours yet you can feel the lump in your throat. You refuse to let your emotions get the best of you and are resolved to stay as calm as Jaehyun. You pull away and get up to dress as he sits and watches. There should be a lifetime more of moments like these: kissing him desperately when you’re only half dressed; tugging on his hand as you rush out the door; browsing the aisles of a convenience store looking for items that pique your appetite; intertwining fingers as you sit on the sand at the beach after midnight; curling up against his chest as you watch movies together; leaning over his shoulder when he’s on his laptop while pressing kisses to the back of his neck.

On Sunday you break out the toy that you are excited to use on Jaehyun. After breakfast and a walk, and slipping into something more comfortable (a flowy sundress and some lace boyshorts) you find him out on the patio next to the small pool and gardens; this afternoon will be all about Jaehyun. The breeze gently ruffles his dark hair and the sunlight dapples him through the tree leaves. He’s beautiful in this moment, his eyelids flutter open and close and a small smile appears when he feels you sit down next to him.

“Hello, sweetpea” you coo as you brush the hair back from his temples and place soft kisses around his mouth. You are pleasantly surprised when Jaehyun grabs the back of your neck to guide your lips to his, his eagerness is apparent in the hungry and decisive kisses. Your hands slowly explore his body as he pulls you closer so that you have to straddle him. You suck on his lower lip and pull it between your teeth, as you grind against the front of his pants you gently tug at his hair to pull his head back. Once his neck is exposed you are able to suck and nip at it, earning low moans as he reaches up to play with your breasts.

“You don’t have to, today is about you.” You tell him.

“I know, but It feels good for me too.” And you can’t deny him anything, especially when you enjoy it so much. You continue to lazily roll your hips against his crotch every now and again as your mouths’ meet again and tongues’ explore. Gradually, each hip motion draws a low groan from Jaehyun’s lips and his hand glides up your leg and beneath your dress. He softly caresses your thigh with his long pretty fingers “Let’s go inside.” he says as you suck a mark onto his soft skin. You’re very coy as you lead him into the house, never letting go of his hand as you gently lead him to the couch and have him sit so that you can straddle him again.

“Why aren’t we going upstairs?” He pulls away to ask, he looks disappointed and you let out an airy, tinkling laugh.

“Be patient, my love,” you tell him as you stroke his cheeks and brush his hair off of his face again. His lips are firm against yours as you grip his shoulder and neck gently. Jaehyun’s hand makes its way up your dress so that his hand is resting on your back. This moment could last a hundred years and you wouldn’t get tired of it. The golden sun beams through the tall windows, but a breeze causes goosebumps to prick your skin; except where yours and Jaehyun’s skin touches causing it to burn with desire. Jaehyun inhales sharply as you palm his crotch before slipping a hand up his shirt. You part briefly so that he can remove his shirt and you gently pinch and rub his nipples. His tongue submits to yours, only pulling you closer to himself as you take control of the deep kiss before paying homage to his neck and collarbone. You play his toned body as well you possibly can; reading and reacting to his every twitch and every moan. You don’t leave an inch of Jaehyun’s upper body unexplored; kissing, biting, and massaging all if it.

“Let’s go upstairs now,” you murmur against his soft lips as you kiss his mouth again. Before you can make any protests, Jaehyun has picked you up and slowly makes his way to the loft bedroom with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Once you reach the bedroom, he puts you down but your lips remain securely attached to each other’s as you back him towards the bed. Discreetly, you turn on one of his playlists that you had saved. You help him remove his last articles of clothing before pushing him down on the bed. A few curses and low groans leave his mouth as you take his cock into your mouth, sinking as far onto his shaft as you can without gagging. You do this a few more times, agonizingly slowly, and Jaehyun’s fingers weave themselves tightly into your hair. You sit up and grab a bottle of lube that sits on the bedside table.

“Do you want me to—?” You leave the question hanging in the air as Jaehyun’s eyes cloud over with lust as he gazes at you.

“Yes,” he says it breathily, it almost comes out as a moan and you smile because you rarely get to see him like this. You squeeze the lube onto your fingers and your mouth returns to his cock as you gently push a digit into him. You don’t want him to come just yet, so you keep the stimulation on his cock to a minimum: licks, sucks, and an occasional bob of your head as you stretch him out to handle three of your fingers. A strangled moan leaves his mouth as you lick his dick and rub his prostate; you smile as you realize this is a side of Jaehyun that you have never seen.

“Please, Y/N, I really want it now.” Jaehyun whines as he grips the bedsheets with one hand and your hair with the other.

“Okay, sweetie, since you asked so nicely.” You say to him with a smile, and he smiles watches intently as you put on the strap on and lube it up.

“Turn around and get on your knees.” You tell him, and just like the first time you were together; he quickly does as you say. You squeeze his ass that is now presented to you and press kisses along his spine. Jaehyun’s breath hitches as you slowly push the toy into him. You keep your pace slow as you apply some extra lube to your hand before reaching around him to stroke his cock as it twitches against his stomach. Sinful moans fall from Jaehyun’s mouth, and he asks you to fuck him faster only for a slew of swears to leave his lips. You are enjoying watching him come so undone like this that you are mostly silent, only focusing on Jaehyun’s mounting pleasure. You sync the movements of your thrusts with the strokes of your slippery hand, bringing Jaehyun to his climax with a groan that he tries to contain only for it to turn into a small cry of pleasure as he spills his seed out over your fingers to drip onto the bed. You massage his back as he collapses onto the bed, shuddering, to regain his breath.

“You did so well, Jae, I love you so much.” You whisper near his ear as you continue to massage him.

“That was...thank you so much; I love you so much, too.” And he turns to look up at you with sleepy eyes.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetpea.” You say as you place a kiss on the soft skin of his forehead.

————————————————————————————

“Is it everything I like?” You ask Jaehyun as he secures the rope that binds your wrists to the arms of the chair your sitting in.

“Yes, I followed your instructions: no annoying moaners, no ridiculous plots, lots of threesomes, realistic sex, and no gratuitous full frontal male nudity—what’s up with that though? What’s wrong with men’s body’s?”

“Nothing’s wrong with them, you’re just really the only man I want to see naked anymore.” You say it sweetly, but still so that he knows you’re telling the truth. He looks at you for a moment, his mouth hangs open a bit,

“That’s...the nicest thing anyone has said about me like that.” And he chuckles before kissing your temple.

“That’s sad,” you say sassily back to him; which is a bit comical as he has you tied to a desk chair sitting in front of the tv, with a sexy top and no underwear on. This was your fantasy, this was the crazy thing you wanted to do this week: be bound and unable to move or touch yourself as you watch a couple hours of porn that he handpicked for you, while Jaehyun goes out for a while to do whatever he wants only to come back to his girl horny and dripping on the furniture.

“Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” He says kissing your mouth.

“Never,” you reply as he pulls away, you’re grinning at him until he pinches your nipple, causing you to yelp. Jaehyun presses ‘play’ on the remote before setting it well out of your reach, and walks down the stairs. You’re watching a woman massage another woman when you hear the door close, signaling Jaehyun’s exit. You feel like such a nympho; within a few minutes you’re tingling pleasantly, but after two short scenes and a third one beginning—a threesome with a strap-on no less—you’re most definitely throbbing. After an hour you can feel how swollen your pussy lips are, and there really is no way to satisfy the ever constant dull throb because you can’t even comfortably roll your hips in the chair with how Jaehyun has your legs tied. You want to be pounded into the mattress like the girl you’re watching now is. You feel thirsty and parched, you just want Jaehyun to hurry home and fuck you until you can’t think or walk straight. Jaehyun comes home early, and you are so relieved to hear the door...only he doesn’t join you right away. You can hear him moving around downstairs; in the kitchen, walking here and there in his bare feet. You call his name a few times, but he makes no answer besides “Hey, I hope you’re being a good girl for me!” He pays you absolutely no attention, frustrating you immensely in your current state. You sit there for a good ten minutes before you start moaning and mewling like the woman on the screen; except she’s moaning “fuck” and you’re moaning “Jaehyun” loud enough for him to hear it. Your eyes are closed and you don’t hear Jaehyun creep up the stairs above your noises until the tv is abruptly shut off. You shudder as your eyes snap open to see Jaehyun standing over you. Hair is wet, as are the swimming shorts he wears, he looks sun-kissed and windswept. He reaches to stroke your face before putting a finger into your mouth to drag your bottom lip down.

“Hello my sweet, I can smell you.” He smiles at you as he kneels down and you blush at his comment.

“Oh my, what do we have here?” He teases as he sneaks his hand between your legs, “Y/N, you have made quite a mess.” Jaehyun tilts your chin up with his free hand to kiss your parted lips, and he swallows the moan that tries to spill from you as he strokes your dripping core. He stands up and pulls off his shorts and then pumps his half-hard cock a few times before guiding it into your mouth. You diligently try and make him hard with your mouth, but your movements are still restricted by the ties.

“Okay darling,” Jaehyun pulls away from you again and his cock stands firmly against his belly, “What would you like me to do?”

“Untie me, please,” You are nearly begging because of how desperately horny you are. Jaehyun unties your wrists and ankles so that your legs can finally part naturally.

“Get on the bed on your knees,” Jaehyun instructs, and he stands there stroking himself while you do as you’re told. “Now take your top off,” and he takes a few steps toward the bed as you comply with this new instruction. He kneels on the bed in front of you and takes a breast in each hand as he kisses you. “Now turn around.” He whispers against your mouth. Jaehyun pushes your upper body forward onto your elbows as he enters you excruciatingly slowly from behind. You gasp and bite back a mewl that threatens to slip from your mouth as he easily slides into you. Within a few thrusts, you can feel your climax bubbling like hot lava in your belly. You can feel your essence run down your legs, and Jaehyun’s thrusts remain slow and deep as he reaches around to rub your clit.

“Jaehyun I’m gonna—I can’t hold it anymore—“

“I know, darling,” he murmurs between your moans, his voice and movements soft and tender as the fire in your belly consumes you. His gentle actions continue until you still against the bedsheets, lightly gasping for air. Jaehyun rubs your back as he pulls out of you and tucks your hair behind your ear. He lays on the bed next to you, “Come here,” and gestures for you to ride him. Your movements are slow and it almost feels a bit much when you sink down onto his cock, but you are able to control the depth and speed while you’re still sensitive after your last orgasm. You thread your fingers through his damp hair as you lean down to kiss him, slowly rolling your hips until the sensitivity fades. His hands never stop stroking and exploring your body, the soft pads of his fingers press, glide and squeeze every inch that he can reach. Jaehyun smells like the ocean, and his skin tastes like the ocean: at this moment he exists in the heat of a summer day. You’re in love with a season that is fleeting and can never be yours; it comes and brings all its joys and wonders, and it leaves you behind burning and touched by its passions. But Jaehyun hasn’t left yet, he is still here—you are still here; you can feel his skin against yours, and his breath intermingled with yours, and his heartbeat against your palm. It is still summer, the leaves have yet to fall. You feel a wonderful and familiar sensation again in your core as the sensitivity is replaced with pleasure. A sheen of sweat covers your body as you ride him, gasping when Jaehyun pays attention to your hardened nipples.

“I love you,” Jaehyun says, and you look down at him with heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips to lose yourself in his lust and love filled eyes.

“Jaehyun, I want you to fuck me—I need you to fuck me like you never have before.” With no warning, he rolls you over so that he’s on top, and his lips immediately find yours as he brings one of your legs up near your head. He holds your legs wide and thrusts slow and deep, his cock grazing over the sweet spot inside of you right away. A bead of sweat from Jaehyun falls on you, and your body’s burn against each other in perfect harmony. He grunts as his thrusts hit you faster and as deep as possible, never letting up, and you hold onto him for dear life as you focus on him here now in your arms to stave off your climax for as long as possible. He pounds into you and you feel like you have forgotten how to breathe, but you must be breathing because you cannot control of moans coming from your lips. The fire you feel in your core is overwhelming, and the lewd noises of slapping skin and gasps and mewls fill the humid bedroom. You cry out as your orgasm overtakes you again, screwing your eyes shut as you bite down on Jaehyun’s shoulder, relishing in the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him. The feeling dies off only to light up once again as he fucks into you hard, and it all feels like too much but Jaehyun is nearing his end as he presses your legs even further apart and up to fuck you impossibly deep and hard. Pleasure swallows you, Jaehyun’s weight crushes you, and he’s whimpering as his cum fills you to the brim and leaks out between each thrust. He collapses on top of you, releasing your legs and burying his head into your shoulder. The heat overwhelms, Jaehyun’s scent overwhelms you, but most of all the feeling of your love for him crushes you and your throat is sore not from your cries of pleasure but from the repression of tears. It’s still summer, it’s too early to mourn for a season that has not passed. You swallow the lump in your throat, “I love you, too” you tell him between your gasps for breath. Jaehyun’s breathing is still laboured as he peppers your neck and shoulder with kisses.

��———————————————————————————

You and Jaehyun spend the week sleeping in and walking on the beach with the hot sand scorching your feet. Movies are started, but halfway through you both decide that you’d rather be making love instead. You each enjoy getting handcuffed to the headboard on separate occasions, and the couch becomes a favourite spot for lazier sex. You cook together and eat together, you read books together which only turns into a couple nap session. You stay up late talking to each other with only the moon’s velvety luminescence shining upon your face’s. By the last day, you are living in Jaehyun’s clothes, wearing his shirts as entire shirt outfits around the cottage and throwing on a pair of your own shorts only if you are going out in public. A week is never long enough to live together in love: it flies by in an instant and leaves you kicking yourself for not saying enough. On the drive back to Seoul you hold hands and don’t speak; back to the land of packed boxes and wedding preparations. For a week they were forgotten; reality was put on pause for the sake of impossible bliss. He was like no one else, other lovers paled in comparison to Jaehyun and this love made you feel more alive than any other.

Johnny had arranged a goodbye party for you for the night before you leave Korea. The gang’s all there, with Johnny, Mark, and Yuta being especially clingy. Misook and Minseok are there, but they no longer parade around like the couple the still undoubtedly are; it’s practice for next month and the years to come. You wonder if they will stay together, or if the situation will be too awkward and put too much strain on their relationship. Jaehyun is aloof the entire night and Yuta teases him, “Aren’t you going to miss her!” To which Jaehyun only feigns a chuckle with a slight nod of his head. Ten brings in a cake, slapping away Mark’s hand as he tries to steal a strawberry off of it.

“It’s not my birthday!” You laugh, thanking Ten and Johnny with hugs. Yuta quickly hands you a knife to cut the cake with.

“The party’s too sad, I need cake now,” He says with a flash of his brilliant smile, a smile that makes you smile in return.

“Wow, Y/N’s slices are so neat and perfect,” Jungwoo says as he leans over your shoulder like a child impatiently waiting their turn.

“Yeah, they’re, like...exact.” Mark makes an awkward gesture with his hands to replicate the shapes of the slices. You laugh out loud, unsure if you’re embarrassed with him or by him.

“I’m gonna miss you, kid.” You tell Mark, smiling at him while Doyoung chuckles beside you as he hands out slices of the cake.

“I’m not that much younger than you!” But Mark laughs too, his nose scrunching as he giggles. You catch Johnny in an intense conversation with Jaehyun out of the corner of your eye, Jaehyun is...someone you aren’t ready to deal with quite yet.

After cake Johnny suggests that everyone go around and say a few words, it’s mostly the same stuff they said at Kun’s going away party. Doyoung thanked you for being a refreshing addition to their group,

“Was it nice to have another voice of reason around, Hyung?” Jungwoo says.

“Yes!” Doyoung exclaims with a gummy smile.

“Thank you for putting up with all of our shenanigans—better than Doyoung hyung does! I sincerely hope you enjoy the rest of your life.” Mark is lovely and sweet as he says this, but you still all crack up at his words.

“The ‘rest of my life’, jeez, that sounds scary.” you joke, but you smile thankfully at Mark.

“Come visit Osaka sometime and I’ll show you around.” Yuta grins and squeezes your hand. It’s Jaehyun’s turn next, and part of you hopes that he doesn’t say anything.

“Study hard and create lots of new memories.” He frowns while saying it and for a moment an awkward silence hangs in the air, which must confuse a majority of the people in the room.

“Yes, lots of new memories—but don’t forget the ones we made!” Johnny jumps in, “Going home to family is so special; take care of yourself and let others take care of you when you need it. Thank you for being more than just a voice of reason and a doting noona—“ the younger boys chuckle “But also for being up for every part of the culture we wanted to show you.”

“Yes, thank you for taking Korean cooking classes with me!” Yuta chimes in and it’s your turn to laugh. Johnny glances at Jaehyun before continuing:

“You will be missed and never forgotten; you left your mark...now go home and have a ‘sincerely’ nice rest of your life, and don’t break too many hearts.” John smiles and winks, there is a round of applause and you are enveloped in a hug by the tall man.

“Thank you,” you squeak as he hugs you too tightly. Jiwoo gifts you a small carved jewelry box, and Taeyong gives you a bag of ramen flavouring packets.

“Do you just have, like, 50 ramen noodles at home now?” You ask him in disbelief.

“Yes,” and he giggles cutely before continuing “They’re the ones you like, and I don’t know if you can get them at home.” You would hug him, but you don’t want to make him all flustered.

Saying goodbye to your friends that you have made in the last two years is harder than you thought, but you also miss your friends and family back home.

——————————————————————————

You unlock the door to the apartment that will soon no longer be yours, and drop the little bag of gifts right inside next to a suitcase. “Those will have to be packed, too.” You mutter to yourself. The light is on in the kitchen, and the tea kettle is nearly whistling. As you lean against the counter and close your eyes Jaehyun’s arms wrap around you from behind and his face presses against you to breathe you in. He left the party with Misook long before you.

“What have you been doing?” You ask as you lean into him.

“Lying on your bed, and going through your drawers to make sure you didn’t forget anything.”

“What’s the hot water for?”

“I thought you might like tea.” He knew you too well, a mug sat on the counter with a tea bag already. This was it, this was the end. This was how summer would come to a close for you in life. You poured the boiling water into the mug and turned in Jaehyun’s arms to face him.

“I love you,” you tell him as you look up at his face and intertwine your fingers on the back of his neck.

“I love you, too.” And he places soft kisses over your forehead and temples. You don’t know what to do, you don’t know how to face the last night: the last time having sex, the last kisses, the last laughs, and the last time waking up next to him. You stand there together for a long time before Jaehyun eventually helps you to get ready for bed.

“What’s wrong?” He asks as you push him away as he tries to help you into your pajama top.

“What’s the point, it’s gonna come off anyway.” You say pulling him to you. You mean to be sexy, but you feel sad, you feel crushed and devastated. It’s not that you don’t want to leave and go home, you just don’t want to leave him. Soberly, Jaehyun takes his t-shirt off and then runs his hands up and down your sides. Your breasts lightly brush against his naked upper body as he dips down to kiss you, and you’re not sure if you can breathe as you pull him down onto the bed with you. You want to feel his weight and see his face tonight, his skin is hot against yours as is the room’s air. It’s a game of equals as you can’t tell who’s kissing whom, and you hook your feet around his waist to keep him against you. You savour the taste of his skin and how his fingers squeeze and grasp your body; his hair is thick and soft between your fingers as you run your hands through it. The emotions you feel right now crush you as you lick a strip up his neck before Jaehyun dips his head down to your cleavage and breasts to nip, squeeze, and suck them. It’s a haze of whispered ‘I love yous’ and ‘you’re beautifuls’ and somewhere in there the last remaining articles of clothing are shed and it’s just two people deeply in love and deeply hurt. You are all sensibility and no sense as you feel tears prick your eyes as Jaehyun’s length slowly enters you; filling you completely. Neither of you masks any sound or a single breath. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, and sweat lubricates your body’s so that your skin glides against one another. For a moment he stops moving and you just kiss each other like...you won’t kiss tomorrow. Your finger nails must leave a few crescent shapes in his skin as you gasp for breath before he rolls the both of you over. You roll your hips against his and attach your lips to his neck. A fiery heat builds in you as he squeezes your ass and encourages tiny bounces from your hips.

“I don’t want this to ever end,” you cry in pleasure having to hold back a physical sob as you collapse against his chest and he rolls over onto you again.

“I’ve got you baby, you’re all mine.” Jaehyun chokes into your neck, something hot and wet falls onto your shoulder. It’s just sweat you tell yourself, but Jaehyun has hidden his face from you while he glides easily in and out of your hot folds. Jaehyun hooks one of your legs over his shoulder so that he can penetrate you deeper as he quickly yet gently fucks you. Your climax builds and nears as he brings a hand to your breast and you feel his thick cock twitch inside of you. Your moans are a chorus together, beautiful but stark in the otherwise quiet room. It’s an empty room; empty shelves and drawers, it’s clean and bare save for the two people joined in a sweaty love-filled union on the bed. Your face contorts in ecstasy as your orgasm peaks when you feel Jaehyun’s seed spurt against your walls. Maybe you have been crying this whole time, you’re not even sure but you feel a plump tear roll down your cheek now followed by another. It takes a moment for you to realize that you are both gasping and crying against one another, and you can feel Jaehyun’s softening cock inside of you as he makes no attempt to move. There is a sob that sits in your throat and threatens to wrack your entire body if you give in to it, you force his face towards yours and are devastated to find it tear-stained and pink. He wipes away the tears hastily, he almost seems embarrassed that you saw them but he kisses the trails your tears have left on your cheeks down to your mouth.

“Why didn’t—“ you choke against the lump in your throat “You ever ask me to stay?”

Jaehyun doesn’t wipe away his fresh tears as he answers, “Because I can’t give you the life you deserve here” and a silent sob shakes your shoulders now “You deserve to be with someone always, and have a family, and a career that makes you proud. You deserve to be surrounded by people that love you—“ you kiss him to drown out your sobs. “I can’t give you enough here because I’m stifled, I am so sorry I wasn’t able to stand up for myself and marry you and have beautiful children with you and grow old next to you.” His hot tears fall fresh on your face and it takes everything you have to suppress your sobs. You can’t give in to them yet, he’s still here in your arms, he’s still loving and holding you. You kiss Jaehyun’s lips to calm the both of you down and it must work because after a few minutes you feel lighter than before and his cock begins to harden inside of you again. You make love three more times that night, each time it feels closer and more emotionally raw than the last.

————————————————————————————

You are exhausted upon waking up and Jaehyun lies next to you, watching you.

“I had to watch you wake up one more time.” He smiles, but it’s a sad smile. Everything is tinged with melancholy this morning; the kisses, the morning routines, the last minute checks to see that you’re not forgetting something. Jaehyun drives you to the airport and gets out to help unload the suitcases you’re taking on the plane with you.

“Passport?”

“Yes.”

“Wallet?”

“Yes.”

“Boarding pass?”

“Yes. I love you.” Jaehyun smiles at your words and takes your hands in his.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

You reach up to kiss him: yes it’s public—but Jaehyun’s grandmother could have been watching from 5 feet away and you still wouldn’t have cared less. It’s love, and you were losing it.

“Jaehyun,”

“Yes, my little love.”

“Take care of yourself.” You smile as best you can before squeezing his hand one last time and walking away with a suitcase in each hand. He doesn’t call back to you, he doesn’t run after you...he lets you go. There is a part of you that expects that he might have a sudden crazy change of heart and burst into the airport at any second. You board the plane knowing full well that are leaving Jaehyun behind, and that he didn’t follow and that you’re not actually going to run away together. You lock yourself inside the tiny bathroom to cry, but it’s like you’re in shock and the tears won’t come.

You feel numb as you greet your parents at the airport and they drive you home. Your house is mostly empty because your parents are spending most of their summer at the family lake house. Your room hasn’t changed, textbooks still lie around but you left it fairly neat before you left. It was a half-used room then as you spent half your time in a university dorm or your ex’s apartment. You had your big childhood home mostly to yourself now. Your mom has left a pile of mail from the last few weeks on your bed, and your eye catches a letter that sits on top of the pile. Your stomach plummets at the sight of the familiar handwriting, and when you pick it up with trembling hands you can see that it was mailed from Naksan. Tears well in your eyes as you open it and you feel as though you can’t breathe as you read it.

My darling lover,

If you are reading this letter, then I have made the biggest mistake of my life by not following you home or not convincing you to run away with me. As I write this you are asleep in bed next to me. This chapter is over for us, I hope your regrets are few or none. Please start many new chapters; fall in love, have a fulfilling career, and have lots of games of hide and seek with your beautiful children in the house you grew up in. Do not think of me with sadness or regret, but just as a lover you once knew. You laughed in your sleep just now beside me. Did you know you do that sometimes? The you that is beside me right now must be happy, but you that is reading this letter may have tears in your eyes as I have in mine writing this. Wipe them away and cherish them for a few moments and then forget them. Months ago you called this “ill-fated love”, and you were quite right. Thank you for letting me love you, thank you for loving me, and thank you for breaking my heart. One last time: I love you, Y/N...so much that it hurts.

-Jaehyun

“I love you, too” you whisper before your body is consumed with grief and sobs. You collapse onto your bed where your mother finds you inconsolable a short while later, but she asks for no explanations and sits with you rubbing your back and stroking your hair until you cry yourself to sleep.

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[jjungkookiex]

My review/thoughts on MOTS7!

This album blew me away in terms of the lyrics, sound composition, EVERYTHING in fact so I figured that I would write a little review of it! Listening to every past BTS album brings me acutely to a period of my life when it was first released so I’m curious to see what memories I’ll forever associate with MOTS7

Interlude: Shadow- From the moment the MV was dropped I was speechless by this masterpiece. It sets the tone for this album so incredibly well by setting up the parallels between fighting your shadows and being engulfed by them. This constant battle I feel is central to the album as a whole. The alternation between Yoongi’s whispered beginning of “I wanna be a rapstar” “I wanna be king” to the Agust D esque switch of flow at the end almost seems as though his shadow is talking back to him. It is as though he realises that he cannot escape it but must embrace it to emerge from it. And also his INSANE flow and fluidity of rap is just something else, this song was made for Suga. 

Black Swan- This has got to be one of my favourite songs from the album, I was hooked by the dark, almost classical intrumentals paired with the urgency of the vocals and rap. I feel as though this is one of the most introspective songs the boys have ever written, with the analogy of the dancer’s first death working to illustrate how art is all consuming for the creator. The pulsing beat underneath the vocals and rap served as a reminder of how important it is for artists to have something that literally makes their heart beat. It’s rare when songs make you truly analyse not only the lyrics but your relation to them and Black Swan 100% did that for me. 

Filter- This had me HOOKED from the first few strings and the smooth Latin beat made me imagine listening to this whist walking through a bustling city at sunset. Jimin’s vocal range and siren like vocals make this song alluring and addictive in a way that no other singer could have done. The lyrics are playful and confident yet simultaneously deep. Jimin realises how attractive his various sides are to millions around the world and he owns that, yet he’s also aware that what people see is mostly akin to a filter, not reality in itself. 

My Time- I’m so proud of Jungkook for experimenting and creating different sounds for each of his solo tracks and My Time is no exception. His beautiful airy vocals echo and blend perfectly with the lowkey beat. The lyrics hit hard when you realise that Jungkook’ s time scale of life has been directly opposite to that of his peers. He’s grown up on airplanes while they took the subway and you get a sense of yearning from his voice, a yearning for maybe the childhood and things he missed out on. Yet there’s a sense of assertion, that he owns his time has been different and accepts his fate. 

Louder than bombs- I 100% understand why Namjoon cried writing this song. It so perfectly encapsulates the sense of fear and desperation that arises from uncertainty in one’s position in life. Troye did such a great job helping the boys with this song because it sounds sonically like the pair of them together. Even though this song is one of the darker numbers on the album it is offset by the small hints of hope. Namjoon’s mantra that he’s going to “pray for better days” is so striking because often in life that’s all you can do when you’re breaking- hope that things will change and the majority of the time they do, so you need to keep that fire of hope alive in you. 

ON- On is a certified bop and its so INTENSE with the drum beats in the beginning. This song is going to be amazing in concerts with its anthemic rhythm and the lyrics “bring the pain on” and “can’t hold me down cos I’m a fighter” are so empowering. I feel this song embraces the pain and hardship with the confidence of the rap and vocals coming together to say- bad things will happen but we’ll emerge stronger and surge ON. 

UGH!- Even from the title I could tell that this queen was going to sit with her sisters Ddaeng and Cypher. I’m so incredibly proud of our rapline they SNAPPED, like the flow, the wordplay the artistry?? The gunshots immediately grabbed my attention and the build up the chorus which hits like a gut punch is EVERYTHING. The way they discuss anger is so pertinent, with the rise of social media people unleash their anger on whoever they choose whilst hiding behind a screen on anonymity. Anger, like they say, is necessary but only when it can be used as a motivator for justice. Petty cowardly anger, like that which is directed towards BTS, can only lead to pain and that is what our rapline so masterfully condemns. 

Zero O Clock- This is my new healing song, the acoustic guitar and soothing vocals are like a warm hug. The chorus is so uplifting and assuring, just hearing the gentle refrain of “and you’re gonna be happy” is so comforting. This reminds me of curling up on a winter’s day and finding comfort in small things and happy memories regardless of the storm that rages outside. The way that BTS never tell you meaningless words like “don’t be sad”, instead they assure you that sadness will not last forever and that the metaphorical spring will brighten your life once more. 

Inner Child- Tae’s solo track radiates innocence and I am so in love with it. The way that he accepts his past and the hard times he went through and instead of allowing himself to dwell on it, he looks to the future. The refrain “we gon change” is going to be so uplifting at concerts. Even though our boys bring us so much joy we have to remember they’ve been through so many trials in the past. It’s comforting to know that I’ve gone through struggles alongside him and we can both move on whilst still recognising that our scars are the reason we are here now and that they prove we are alive and capable of healing. 

Friends- One of my favourites from this album hands down. This makes me so inexplicably happy. It reminds of walking home hands intertwined with your best friend after school, late night conversations and inside jokes that make you double over whilst still containing that deep and powerful love you share with your soulmate alone. And isn’t that just vmin encapsulated? I can’t wait to see they perform this live, the Stay! Hey! part makes me so nostalgic and makes me want to reassure them that they’ll always have each other and the cheers of us, their ARMY. The part where they acknowledge their relationship as soulmates made me BAWL, their bond is one of such purity and rarity and I’m honoured to even witness it. 

Moon- Another one of my all time favourites from this album. This could be the soundtrack for a slice of life anime and it is so bright and cheery, like Jin himself. His sweet vocals and the beat fits the spring season so well and the lyrics made me so soft. The way he uses the metaphor of him being the moon and circling us, his precious earth made me realise even more how much his man ADORES us. How could anyone sleep on Jin?? He’s songwriting is so pure and his presence gives me such comfort and hope, you’re so much more than just a moon Jin. You’re our one and only moon. 

Respect- Namgi you geniuses! The wordplay, playful banter and topic matter are so unique in this song that I knew that it could only be made for the two of them. Respect I feel at the foundation of all relationships, can you ever have a healthy and mutual relationship with anyone or thing if you don’t respect them? With their distinctive rap that blends and flows so well with each other Namgi discuss the concept of respect and what it really means in the modern world when people place a veneer over their actions and words so as to disguise whether or not they truly respect you. As artists all I feel Bangtan want is people to respect them, not idolise them, but respect their artistry and work and sadly in an world where people hold numerous prejudices this is hard. Kudos to them for exploring this topic in a way that is simultaneously light with the satori at the end but still very thought provoking. 

We are Bulletproof: The Eternal- I was 100% expecting this song to be a hardcore hip hop track so imagine my surprise to find a song that made its way into my BTS songs I can’t listen to casually because they mean too much to me and will make me bawl in public tracklist. The gorgeously haunting melody, the angelic vocals and intensely emotional rap has me in tears. When they sing “We were only seven” and “But we have you all now” I lost it. The memories I have of BTS who were my second family for the majority of my youth, the times we spent together, the music that was the soundtrack to my life. The way they adore us and find comfort and hope from us... this song really made me believe that I’m going to love them forever and vice versa. It makes me less scared to go on the rollercoaster that is life knowing that I will always have Bangtan beside me. 

Outro:Ego- I saw a post that said Namjoon looks up to his Persona, Yoongi’s Shadow looks down on him but Hobi is the only one who is at the same level as, and looks his Ego right in the eye. I feel this song is such a wonderful upbeat positive track that is so Hoseok?? The way that he accepts his fate and looks forward and is confident and happy in the person he is now? This is going to be amazing at all the summer concerts and it just radiates such joy and never fails to make me dance. The perfect ending to an album that chronicles the ups and downs of BTS’s relationship with their career and selves and ultimately ends on such a bright note of hope and happiness. 

[rasoir-national]

Song ask meme

Got tagged by @antirococoreaction (get some sleep, you heathen) to list 10 songs I’ve been listening a lot to lately, so unfortunately I now have to expose my gothy self for all to see. That’s like, the law of Internet.

1) “Letter from the lost days” by Akira Yamaoka and Mary Elizabeth McGlynn : in terms of pure volume, the type of music I listen to the most is always going to be the music I put on when I study. Video games music is supposed to be the best for concentration, so I revolve around a few favourites : the soundtrack to Hollow Knight (my favourite game of all times, if anyone’s curious), Pathologic 1&2, and everything from the Silent Hill series. Personally, I think the soundtrack to Silent Hill 3 is the most musically accomplished, and this song in particular is just a very heartbreaking contemplation of future and past hope, and tied to a wonderful scene in the game.

2) “Do you remember the first time ?” by Pulp : I’m mostly meh when it comes to 90s brit rock, but Pulp is the one band who never let me down. I actually prefer them when they’re sincere and vulnerable rather than blatantly sarcastic and angry, like in Common People or Razzmatazz, two songs I love but will never move me the way DYRTFT does. Despite the fact that this is sung by a man and textually about a woman, I refuse to believe Pulp did not intend for this to be a queer anthem about being in love with someone who settled for a straight relationship. Who even uses “straight” in another sense anymore ? Come on.

3) “50ft Queenie” by PJ Harvey : everyone needs a fuck you anthem to blast when they want to walk around feeling like they’re untouchable. This is mine. Got catcalled ? Had a bad day ? I just put this on and headbang to the idea of me being a giant smashing people as I roam the street. Also PJ Harvey is the sexiest rocker of all times and that’s a fact.

4) “Sparks” by Faith and the Muse : another damn sexy song, and one of my most consistent favourites. It had shown up in my most listened to spotify playlist every year without fail since 2016. I tend to favour the more “artsy/world/whatever” side of the goth genre, so this is a permanent tie between this and the entire Dead Can Dance, This Mortal Coil, and Cocteau Twins discography.

5) “Sari Sari Raat” by Narmeen Niazi : a “disco” song inspired by South-Asian traditional music, sung in Urdu, that prefigures what the entire New Wave will be like ? Yes please. I wish I was more knowledgeable when it comes to South Asian music, but I’m slowly making my way through it. Interesting to know that sounds and techniques that have been hailed as “revolutionary” in western mainstream music have been part of Souh and East Asian musical tradition for literal centuries.

6) “La ballade des pendus”, poem by Francois Villon, sung by Serge Reggiani : there’s a large tradition of french singers adding tunes to old french poems. Here, we’re going waaaaay back, as Villon is one of the oldest french poets whose oeuvre was preserved. This particular ballad is from the point of view of hanged men on the gallows. It wouldn’t be french if it wasn’t vaguely gross. I’ve got an entire playlist worth of the same material. In that spirit, I’d like to remind everyone that my mom sang me old french songs when I was a kid, one of which opens with the line : “King Renaud comes back from war holding his bowels in his hands”. So if you’re wondering where all of...this *gestures at entire self* comes from, there may be something there.

7) “A better son/daughter” by Rilo Kiley : I spent the last 2 years heavily depressed, but trying to get better, and this is my catharsis song, the one is play when I need a good cry that also makes me feel better and hopeful. This song is for me forever associated to wandering around the psychiatric ward, thinking of the people I let down, how hard I’m trying, how they might not see it, and whether or not there’s even a “better” for me. Reader, there was. This is a song for the times you are convinced you won’t live through the year, but you’d like to think that maybe, maybe, there’s a chance.

8) “That’s how I got to Memphis” by Tom T. Hall : I actually listen to a lot of country music, probably because Western is my favourite film genre aside from Horror. This one is a bit super nostalgic for me, as french singer Eddy Mitchell recorded a french version of this song with different (and might I say, much more elaborated) lyrics which I listened the shit out of when I was a kid, but which has been so tied to traumatic memories that I stopped being able to listen to it when I was a teenager (that’s why I’m not linking it, but you should give it a listen). So I was very happy to discover there was an original version, one I could listen to without reactivating my PTSD. Tom T. Hall’s intonation on the last “Memphis” of the song breaks me everytime.

9) “Yamore” by Salif Keita and Cesaria Evora : absolute classic. I listen to a lot of West African music when I study as well, especially at night, when I need a reason to stay awake. There are so, so many versions of this song, but this one remains my favourite, although I quite like Gambari’s version as well. Salif Keita is in a permanent rotation with Rokia Traoré’s first album, Mayra Andrade and basically everything by Ali Farka Touré. Highly recommend checking him out if you’re not familiar and you like instrumentals.

10) “No Choir” by Florence+the machine : Florence’s last album is my favourite from her, and its conclusion is just the perfect note to end on. For someone who is so good at turmoil and passion, Florence captures the simplicity and fragility of happiness like no artist I’ve ever heard before. Hand to god, I listened to the entire High as hope album every single day last year, as my mental health was getting better and I was measuring the path I’d walked. I will be happy when Florence makes another album, but also kind of sad, because this feels like such a perfect ending point for her career, the storytelling of her personal struggle, that happened, for a period of time, to parallel mine. Wow, this got personal. Anyway, ily Florence.

This list ended up more diverse than I thought ! I was afraid it would make me look like a monomaniacal darkling, but my tastes seem to have widened a bit, which is good.

As for the tagging... God, do I even know ten people in real life ? Ok, i’m tagging @seitosatoko, @oh-and-this, @saintjustitude, @fanfeline, @ghostplantss, @pilferingapples, @antoinethejust, @desmoulins-suggestions and everyone else who wants to do it. Sorry if you already got tagged by someone else, again, I’m new here.