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dustedmagazine · 1 year ago

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Listening Post: Souled American

Souled American arose in the context of the roots-influenced alternative rock scene of the mid to late 1980s that included “cowpunk” bands such as Rank and File, Green on Red’s acid country and the more refined sound of the Jayhawks. This nascent Americana movement built on the tradition of Dylan and the Band etc. and fed into the No Depression scene associated with Uncle Tupelo in the 1990s.

The first Souled American release, Fe (1988), is in this larger tradition—kind of. “Magic Bullets,” “Make Me Laugh,” and “Going Home,” in particular, have a fairly conventional country rock sound, with rattling drums, twangy guitar, and heartfelt nasal singing, and “She Broke My Heart,” is all weepy country. Some of the other tunes, though, point in a different direction. “Notes Campfire” sets the mood with acoustic strums and a classic country set-up (“I heard about your love/so you’re alone today”) but soon becomes unintelligible (“Slavic notes campfire”?) and introduces odd harmonies somewhere between the Byrds and the Holy Modal Rounders. The distinctive elements of the band sonically begin with the bass of Joe Adducci, which is up front in the mix, shows the influence of his time playing reggae, and is unique in the genre. Equally important are the restrained percussion of Jamie Barnard, the atmospheric playing of guitarist Scott Tuma (who has maintained a solo career), and the voices of Adducci and guitarist Chris Grigoroff.

Everything comes together on Flubber (1989), which starts off with a suite of five tunes on side one that are, for me, 15 of the best minutes of music in the genre in any period. If you’re looking for an entry point with SA, this is it. The blend of burbling bass, acoustic strums, keening electric accents, and atmospheric harmonica is full of emotion and mystery. The sound is simple but layered, making the whole so much more than the parts. The harmonica serves, not to punctuate the vocals, as in Dylan, but to fill the space often filled by accordion, fiddle, and keyboards (e.g., “Wind to Dry”). The lyrics don’t really make sense, but the atmosphere that they create perfectly matches the sound. Characters emerge, such as the lonely woman at a bar in “Mar’Boro Man,” and images such as the canvas punching bag in “All Good Things,” while “Drop in the Basket” hints at an America coming apart at the seams (“this church is on fire/the sirens scream . . . searching every alley for patches for holes”). The other tunes are less immediately compelling but equally rewarding as an early example of slowcore. On “You and You Alone,” “Over the Hill,” and “Zillion,” the band slows to a crawl and the percussion becomes vestigial, pointing forward to the space that has since been inhabited by artists ranging from Will Oldham to SUSS. Flubber creates something new out of well-worn parts, a kind of Old Weird Americana that is neither ironic, overly earnest, nor beholden to the rock tradition. The reissue well includes the mission statement (originally only available on cassette) “Marleyphine Hank” — i.e., the band is made up of equal portions of Bob Marley (that bass), morphine (the slow tempos), and Hank Williams (of course).

Around the Horn (1990) includes tracks every bit as strong as those on Flubber and Fe — the title track, “Second of All,” “In the Mud,” and an inspired take on Little Feat’s “Six Feet of Snow” — and continues the move toward slowcore country, especially on the epic “Rise Above It.” It also represents a major inflection point. The three subsequent releases (which were only available in the U.S. as European imports) double down on the slowcore approach (facilitated by Barnard’s departure in 1991). Sonny (1992) consists mainly of covers of country and traditional songs and instrumentals that are a lot like those on previous records. It’s pleasant enough, but the bass has receded into the background, the harmonicas are rarely in evidence, and there’s a sense that the band was running out of ideas. Frozen (1994) and Notes Campfire (1996) both consist of originals played at the characteristic molasses tempo. There are some great songs, especially “Before Tonight” and “Heyday,” but, at the time, there was simply no market for this kind of music, and the band fell largely silent. Even diehard fans may find these releases challenging, and the place to start for newcomers remains the three remarkable records released from 1988 to 1990.

So, I’m wondering how those who were there at the time think these songs have aged (I think they hold up really well) and how they strike those who are hearing them for the first time.

Jim Marks

Fe by Souled American

Bill Meyer: I first heard Souled American around the time of Flubber. I had people telling me how wonderful they were, and when I listened at the time, I didn't hear it at all. The music sounded kind of cartoony to me. I decided to take the albums in sequence, and I am currently halfway through. I no longer hear the vocals as caricatures. They seem like a natural synthesis of the group's interests and aptitudes. And the arrangements, which I once merely registered as kind of annoying, now sound highly idiosyncratic. I gather that the bassist, Joe Adducci, played in ska bands. Instead of toning down his assertive rhythm plus counterpoint approach to suit country-rock convention, the playing jams his style into the tunes. I haven't decided whether I like it any more, but I get how singular it is in a way that I didn't 30-odd years ago. So, I guess that listening to this music again is acqauinting me with evidence of how I've changed as a listener.

Justin Cober-Lake: I'm one of those hearing them for the first time, and I'm drawn to the early albums (probably Fe the most) for the same reason I'm drawn to artists like the Band. The music slips between time periods, between genres, between whatever else. If you'd told me that Fe was recorded 20 years earlier, I'd have believed you. It's a very earnest approach to a certain sort of country rock that came before, and I can even hear some inflections of cosmic country. I don't think Souled American fits the alt-country narrative very well at all, beyond the fact that everyone probably listened to Gram Parsons.

The "slowcore approach" that Jim mentioned definitely sets them apart from their alt-country cousins, and it feels like an element of their music that does slot into the early '90s more so than their instrumentation or influences. By the end of the discography, it begins to feel predictable -- it's hard to think, "What *is* this?" after six albums -- but until then it's very striking, and gives the first few albums a very distinctive flavor. One of the connections I wonder about is how this music connects to the current wave of ambient country (or similarly named music). We're hearing more and more music that uses pedal steel and other country instruments for non-traditional music. I'm thinking of acts like SUSS or Luke Schneider's various projects. I'm not sure there's a throughline at all here, but that gets me back to my first point about what attracts me to this music. It sort of fits into a whole bunch of places without really having a proper home.

Flubber by Souled American

Christian Carey: Timing is so important in the record industry. A band can make great music that would have gained wider currency if only they had released it when the Zeitgeist was in their favor. I think this is the case with Souled American. Imagine if the band’s first album had been released in 1996, the date of their last LP, Notes Campfire. Souled American might have fit in well in the No Depression era. Instead, they struggled with labels and sales and, perhaps inevitably, stopped releasing records. As they matured, so did Chris Grigoroff’s vocals; the earlier releases have twang and warble that are a bit too on the nose. So too did the band’s sound, moving from more straightforward production to experiments one might consider proto Wilco. Fe morphs their sound in this direction, and the songs themselves are more experimental in construction. Notes Campfire has a gloomily valedictory quality. My understanding is that Souled American still plays the occasional gig. It would be nice to see what they would do in the studio today.

Jennifer Kelly: I remember reviewing a really lovely Scott Tuma solo album for Dusted during the Otis years, and it looks like we did a couple of others as well.

This is the paragraph that addresses what has Scott been up to since Souled American.

It’s been roughly a decade since Scott Tuma played guitar in Souled American, the cultish alt.Americana outfit whose unstrung country blues inspired, among other things, Camden Joy’s “Fifty Posters About Souled American” project (and a cameo in Jonathan Lethem’s Chronic City). Since then, Tuma has contributed to the ambient explorations of the Boxhead Ensemble and, with members of Zelienople, to Good Stuff House. He has also released four solo albums that warp familiar, organic sounds into strange dream-like shapes.

Bill Meyer: As far as I know, he still lives in Chicago, but I haven't seen Tuma in years. He has continued to make albums, and discogs says that a cassette came out on Emmett Kelley's label, Haha, last year. I've heard a lot of them, and while each has its own character, they're all loose, slow, and more inclined to communicate via tone than words. While there was a time in the early aughts when you could see him reasonably often, he performed out significantly less in the years before the pandemic.

Jim Marks: Yes I gave Tuma's records short shrift in the intro. They're uniformly excellent, taking the slowcore in another direction, and I've actually listened to them more over the years than the Souled American records.

Justin Cober-Lake: Now I'm detouring into Tuma's discography, and he does something quite different. It's still in some sort of Americana-based slowcore whatever, but it doesn't sound like Souled American. I don't want to dwell on the band's decline or dissolution, but is there any connection between his changing sound and the end of Souled American. The band runs out of either steam or ideas for its last couple records, but Tuma hadn't. "Untitled 2" on The River 1 2 3 4 beautifully develops the broader aesthetic, with both a classic loveliness and innate weirdness that could have continued to drive the band (which I realize had been broken up for seven years at this point).

Sonny by Souled American

Bill Meyer: I’m only up to Sonny, which I’ve just heard for the first time ever, so my thoughts my change as I play through the final two. But on Sonny, what stands out about Tuma’s playing is the extent to which it doesn’t sound like him as I got to know him later on; instead, he plays what the music requires in order for it to be Souled American Music. This feels like the point where they drew their line vs. the rest of the world. We’re going to play so slow, our drummer quits on us. We’re going to make an album of classic country songs, and make them all sound just like us. They really double down on slow tempos and a style of singing that emphasizes emotional and locational signifiers (quavers, elongations, that rural drawl), but seems to drain them of emotion, and locates them in a place that probably doesn’t exist beyond the four walls of their rehearsal room. They seem very determined to be themselves, for better or worse pursuing some ideal form of Souled Americanness.

I should clarify, the drummer left after this record was done. At the time that record came out, their manager had a form letter responding to all Souled American queries, and in it he said that the drummer quit because he got married. Interestingly, the letter says that it took eight months to record Sonny; apparently, these guys were slow in more ways than one.

And as I s-l-o-w-l-y drawn to the conclusion of album number five, Frozen, the Tuma solo connection starts to materialize. With its more drawn-out tempos drawing everything within gravitational reach towards a strange state, this is the first record to sound anything like solo Tuma, albeit fuller and more polished than anything he did on his own. Chris Grigoroff’s singing sounds less engaged than ever with country-rock convention, and more like this one weird guy from the country singing. He sounds more emotionally invested in these songs than he did in the covers on

Sonny

, which reinforces my notion that Sonny is the record where they decided to show the world, "this is how it must be done," and they used those songs to do it.

I think this might be the record I like the most out of the five that I’ve heard.

Notes Campfire by Souled American

Jim Marks: Nice to see the later Souled American records getting some love. They were ignored or scorned at the time (I remember a particularly scathing review of Notes in the Austin Chronicle) despite having, among other charms, great accessible tunes like "Heyday" and "Before Tonight." Bill has it exactly right: this is uncompromising outsider music.

Jennifer Kelly: I am belatedly getting into all this. Have to say that I failed to make much of a connection with Fe, but I am liking Flubber a lot better, especially the parts where the country blues haze parts and you get some soul-ish vamps as on "True Swamp" and "Cupa Cowfee."

At its best, this stuff is very trance-y and transcendental, but sounds deeply rural, which makes me wonder how these city boys came to this type of music. Also, it's reminding me of some of the weirder backwoods psych we have around here, like Sunburned and Tower Recordings and MV and EE. Is there a line of influence there?

Am I right that these are just straight reissues--no extra tracks and so forth? About to tackle Around the Bend, more later.

Bill Meyer: I have never heard of a band claiming Souled American as an influence. My recollection is that in the 1990s they had a critical buzz. I believe that Mike Krassner of Boxhead Ensemble was a fan, and this influenced the decision to recruit Tuma into Boxhead in the late 1990s.

Bryon Hayes: I'm also late to the party with respect to Souled American proper. My induction into their orbit was via the series of releases that Scott Tuma recorded with members of Zelienople. Jenny's comment about trance-y and transcendental really applies to those records, but I also definitely hear it in the latter Souled American releases, especially Notes Campfire. It's my favorite of the lot; the unhurried tempos and melancholic atmospheres really resonate with me.

I'm wondering if the connection to the northeastern US backwoods psych scene has to do with the band's affiliation with Zelienople. Even though they were also from Chicago, that band seemed heavily aligned with that psychedelic folk scene. I know that Time-Lag released the first Good Stuff House recordings. That project included Tuma alongside Mike Weis and Matt Christensen from Zelienople. I'm unclear whether any of the other Souled American band members were aligned with that other band, however.

Jim Marks: Just for the record, "Tall Boy Blues," "True Swamp Too," "Torch Singer," and "Marleyphine Hank" did not appear on the original vinyl releases but were cassette- and CD-only tracks. The only thing missing from the reissue that I know of is a (fairly straight) cover of a Kris Kristofferson song that appeared on an early 2000s tribute to Kristofferson.

Around the Horn by Souled American

Chris Liberato: Something clicked for me in the last couple of weeks and I've been enjoying the heck out these records! I haven't digested them all yet, but Fe, Flubber, Frozen and Notes Campfire have all been doing it for me. Flubber is the only one that I was familiar with prior. I bought a used copy in the early aughts (at Twisted Village, rest in peace), but I couldn't get into it at the time and ended up letting it go. Like Bill, I remember being turned off by the vocals. Now I'm hearing shades of Curt Kirkwood from the Meat Puppets, Will Oldham and a little bit of Jay Farrar in the vocals -- all folks whose voices I like a lot, and who I was familiar with long before I heard Souled American. I don't know what my problem was back then.

I'd like to stay on the Meat Puppets comparison for a second because they're the band that Souled American might remind me of the most. Not in their choice of tempos, of course, but in many of the ways we've already touched on: the prominent, burpy bass (flubbery is actually is a great word to describe it's sound); the spacey, interweaving guitar lines; the cryptic and occasionally profound lyrics. Both bands have this way of blending (many of the same) genres to create something not easily classifiable. And they take a similarly unselfconscious approach to performance, especially in the vocal department. I poked around to see if the Meat Puppets comparison was a common one, but only found a couple mentions. One was in a recent Raven Sings The Blues feature with Eric Johnson of the Fruit Bats where he described Frozen as sounding like Meat Puppet's Up on the Sun but with the tape slowed WAY down." I think that's a pretty accurate description, and one that could be applied to many moments in their catalog.

Jennifer Kelly: Huh, Meat Puppets, good call, though I think of them as more rock and less Americana.

I've been listening to the live Strapping Fieldhands from the early to mid-1990s lately and hearing some commonality there as well. Also very weird and kind of offputting vocals.

#dusted magazine #listening post #souled american #jim marks #justin cober-lake #bill meyer #christian carey #bryon hayes #chris liberato #scott tuma #zelienople #meat puppets

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nadja-antipaxos · 2 years ago

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CAN’T MAKE YOU HAPPIER NOW - THREE

Previously - Two || Masterlist || Next - Four

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: reference to domestic abuse though nothing happens, drug use, smoking, swearing, sex (PIV, fingering, oral - female receiving), casual racism from Caroline.

Note: Thank you for the wonderful responses to this fic. I truly appreciate it. Please leave comments if you so desire. It fuels my writing. The Cut graphic by me. This chapter covers the end of 1x07-1x10. Lyrics quoted from "Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus. Hindi translations: beta means "son" and "laadali" means "dear one/apple of my eye"Nisha's green dress for Shiv's party here. Nisha's dress for Shiv's wedding here.

Word Count: 9,326

3 years ago

“Nisha!” Kendall yelled after her as she ran into their bedroom. She was faster than him. She locked it right as he grabbed the doorknob. Her heart was pounding against her ribs. Cocaine on her children’s iPads. No. No. Absolutely not. She threw them on the cold tile of the shower and watched the glass splinter into little shards. They were not going to touch them now.

“Nisha!” His fist pounded against the door and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears.

She didn’t know how long that was going to hold, but she knew how to think fast under pressure. She ripped open every drawer and opened every closet. She dug and dug until she found the little bags stuffed amongst the clothes, in her heels, and even a small vial in one of her jewelry boxes. How many were there? Six, she counted six. She found two more before he got the door open. Her hands were shaking as she held them. She bolted to the bathroom and threw them into the toilet.

“No! No! No! No! No!”

Without hesitating, she flushed them down.

“Fuck!” Kendall kicked the cabinet. “Goddamn it, Nisha.”

He frantically searched their room. He checked every hiding place. They were empty. She watched him scramble and retrace every one of her steps. He was too overwhelmed to notice her following him. He checked one more spot—inside one of her autumn handbags she hadn’t used in ages. She shoved his shoulder and snatched it. He reached for her and nearly caught her ankle, but she made it to the bathroom. She opened it and let all the powder fall in the sink before turning the water on. His heart seized with panic. There was nothing left in the sink. He checked the toilet. It was all gone.

“Do you know what you’ve done?!” He finally looked at her.

“Yeah. I got rid of all your fucking coke.” She spat as the tears rolled down her face.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Their iPads, Kendall? My things? You brought that shit into our home. Our bedroom?”

He moved towards her and immediately, she covered her face with her hands. She turned away and braced herself. She waited. Her heart was beating so fast her chest hurt. Still, she didn’t move.

“You—You—” His voice cracked. “You think I’m gonna hit you?”

“There’s a first time for everything.” She kept her eyes closed. Waiting. Her mind raced thinking of an exit plan. Waiting. Depending on where, how could she get out of the bathroom? Waiting.

His guttural sobs made her open her eyes. He clutched onto her legs as his body shuddered. He was crumpled at her feet. Fresh tears burned in her dark eyes.

“I-I would never hit you, Nisha. The fact you—” He had never felt so weak and pathetic. “I made you think…” He was cut off by his own cries.

Nisha sank to the floor. Kendall looked up at her with weepy eyes. He was shaking.

“I-I need help. Please help me.”

“W-We’ll get you help.” She wrapped her arms around him.

“I love you. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

Her throat was thick with emotion. She couldn’t speak, so she held on tighter.

The incessant vibrating of her phone on the nightstand wakes her up. Nisha’s never been a heavy sleeper, but once she had kids, she woke up at every noise. Her eyes open as she blindly gropes for the source.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Nishhhhhhhh.”

She closes her eyes and forces her brain to work. Is she still asleep? Is this one of those reoccurring nightmares that she’s had for the past three years? God, please let it be a nightmare. This cannot be happening. No. She thought she could trust him. He told her she could trust him.

“Niiiiiiisha. Nisha. Nisha.”

She licks her lips and turns the light on.

“Yes, Kendall?”

“You were right! I’m totally fucked up. Get Ramesh a medaaaal.”

White-hot rage settles in her stomach as she sits up. She wants to shake him. How fucking dare he do this to her?

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” She hears Roman’s voice. “Oh, fuck. Nisha.”

“Roman.”

“I, uh, was gonna call you tomorrow. It’s like 1 am, right? Fuck. Just shut up a minute, Kendall! Jesus!”

“Yeah. It’s 1 am. I didn’t even know he was in New Mexico.”

“Shit, well, he is. He—”

There’s a muffled sound coming over the speaker.

“Nish, this what you wanted, yeah? To know every fucking detail about my life?”

Her vision blurs with tears. She feels sick. She hugs her knees to her chest. There’s no point in talking to him right now.

“Goodnight, Kendall.” She ends the call and throws the phone across the room.

All alone in the dark in the middle of the night, Nisha sobs against the soft fabric of the duvet. What is she going to do now? She wants to scream. Rip him to pieces with her bare hands for making her life such a mess. For breaking every goddamn promise he made. Instead, she takes a few deep breaths and remembers the two children sleeping in their rooms. She’s not going to let them down. Even if she does hate every single atom in their father’s being.

When Kendall returns to New York, she doesn’t even try to call. She focuses on her work schedule and the kids. Why waste the energy? If he doesn’t want her help, she doesn’t need his. She talks to Shiv about her campaign. Gil is actually someone she would consider voting for and the fact he hates Logan so publicly is just a bonus. Nisha already RSVP’d with Kendall for the wedding, but Shiv secures separate rooms. She attends the bachelorette party like a good sister-in-law and pretends to have fun. Roman sends a few texts, but that’s about as far as that goes. Connor sends one text telling her the only one who can steal her joy is her which she promptly ignores. She’s already Hindu. She doesn’t need Instagram spun bullshit. Stewy texts her briefly until she tells him she isn’t really talking to Kendall.

The only good part of Kendall being on the outs with his dad is the fact that Nisha isn’t expected to visit Logan with the kids. It gives them more time with her mother and stepfather who are loving grandparents. Her mother might not be the best with physical affection, but she never treats them with anything less than respect. She was the one who figured out Iverson needed testing in the first place. Nisha doesn’t tell her family about the drugs, but they can tell things are worse than they were a few months ago.

A month passes and all of Kendall’s visits with the kids are supervised by her in a public place. No more weekends. No more sleepovers. No one-on-one conversations. Sophie runs after Iverson in the park when Kendall turns to Nisha.

“Wanna go to dinner after this?”

Instead of looking at him like he has three heads, she keeps her eyes on the children.

“No.”

He laughs, but she still doesn’t look. If she looks at him, she’ll end up clawing his eyes out and she’s wearing Dior.

“What happened to you?” He sniffs. “You used to be cool.”

“I had your children and grew the fuck up.” She shoves her hands in her pockets and walks over to Sophie. They need to get going anyway. There’s homework to be done and baths. She has to finish her deck for her newest client and look over some documents for Ramesh about which CDN they should acquire.

“Hey.” Kendall touches her shoulder as they walk back.

“What?” Nisha flinches and looks ahead at her kids.

“Look, I’m sorry about—”

“Save your breath. I really don’t wanna hear it.” She can tell he’s high right now and briskly picks up her pace.

When they get to the apartment, the kids hug Kendall before walking into the apartment. She’s about to go too when Kendall catches her by the elbow.

“What?” She doesn’t hide the aggravation in her voice.

“Nisha in New Mexico—that call—I was high. I didn’t—”

“You know what, Ken? I don’t really care. You don’t want me involved? Fine. I have to get dinner started.” She wriggles her arm away from his grip.

“Will you just let me fucking talk?” He sighs, irritated.

“Why? This is exhausting. You are exhausting.” She shuts the door in his face.

Maybe it’s because her husband is back on drugs and she’s not legally allowed to throttle him, Nisha finds herself up at 5 am every day in the workout room of the apartment. She runs either on the treadmill or the elliptical, does her yoga, and occasionally punches a punching bag. She’s on the elliptical when her phone goes off.

FUCKING ASSHOLE (5:31 am)

Hey.

She is not in the mood, so she picks up her speed.

FUCKING ASSHOLE (5:32 am)

You working out?

Sophie must’ve told him. That’s the only way he’d know.

FUCKING ASSHOLE (5:33 am)

Can you let me in?

She huffs and stops for a moment to text him back. He’s here? What could he possibly want?

Nisha Asuri-Roy (5:33 am)

Use your keys.

FUCKING ASSHOLE (5:34 am)

This is important. Really. Promise.

Nisha hops off the elliptical and goes to the front door. Kendall’s standing there in a tailored grey blazer and some busy distressed t-shirt. He clearly has not slept and she remembers something about Tom’s bachelor party. A layer of scruff covers his face and she can see some grey mixed in. She ignores her first thought about how hot he looks and plays with the hem of her workout shirt. There are more important things to focus on. He’s been using. She looks at her watch and nods her head back to the apartment. It’s Saturday, so the kids won’t be up for a while. She has time to get him out of here. He follows her to the exercise room.

“So, what’s this? A bachelor party booty call?” She crosses her arms, pressing them into her chest. His eyes immediately fall to her newly exposed cleavage and she puts her hands on her hips.

“You used to love it when I fucked you high.” He shifts in place as he looks her over. She’s covered in sweat without any makeup on, so she doesn’t even know what he’s looking at.

“Yeah, when I was 22 and I thought your dick was the most amazing thing in the universe.” She rolls her eyes.

“It’s not?” Kendall smirks.

She’s not amused and moves to get back on the elliptical.

“Sandy Furness funded Stewy to get in on Waystar.”

She grips the arm and stumbles a bit. She turns around.

“What?”

“They wanna buy me out. Half a bil.”

She nods for him to continue.

“I said no.”

“Okay.”

“I wanna do a hostile takeover instead.”

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline.

“A bear hug?”

“Sandy agreed. I’d be CEO.”

Nisha blinks at him. She can’t believe it. Does he actually want to take down his dad like this? This was more aggressive than he’s ever been. It doesn’t feel like a move he’d make, but Logan has been making his life hell. Her wheels are already turning, but before she can get too excited, she has to ask.

“Why are you here?”

“I can’t be king without my queen.”

“Kendall…”

His thumbs brush over the thin fabric covering her hips. She sucks in a breath as he moves closer. She can smell cigarettes and alcohol on him. Fuck him for making that sexy. She needs to stay mad at him and ignore the heat traveling past her stomach.

“I promised you, Nisha. It’s been a long time, but it’s happening. I don’t—I can’t do this without you. I can’t.”

“Until it goes south and I’m the enemy.”

“My dad’s the enemy.”

“Ken, you pushed me away.”

“I know, baby. Let me make it up to you. Lemme give you everything you deserve.”

His forehead rests on hers. He’s breathing heavily and so is she. This is exhilarating. It’s everything she’s ever wanted with him. It’s everything they ever wanted. They lock eyes.

“Is this for real?”

“It is.”

“Last chance.”

“I know. I promise.” He nods and presses his mouth on hers in a searing kiss. Her fingers spread across the scruff on his jaw and she deepens the kiss immediately. She hates how easy she gave in. She hates him, but, god, she loves him just as much. It’s something she can’t explain or put into words. He’s intoxicating. He’s infuriating. He’s everything. Being caught in that whirlwind it’s just part of being with Kendall. Breathless flight until the wind gives out and it’s a free-fall back to Earth.

Nisha gasps as his thigh settles between her legs applying just the slightest pressure. He does it again just to hear that sound.

“Can I fuck you, baby?”

She grabs his shoulders and bites her lip when his hardness presses into her. Her hips grind down for some much-needed friction. He growls low in his throat.

“You want that, pretty girl? Want me to fuck you? Right here—right now?”

“Yes, Ken. Please.” She kisses him and wraps her arms around his neck.

He lifts her away from the equipment scrambling for a place. It’s not the most romantic or practical setting, but she’s tracing the distance between each freckle on his neck with her tongue, and he can’t wait. He sets her down on the yoga mat in front of the ballet barre mirror. She lifts her hips and he peels the tight pants off her legs. Her fingers unbuckle his belt and push the slacks down over his ass.

“Did King Kendall make an appearance at the party?” She smirks, pretending to be casual. She palms the front of his briefs and he groans.

“I don’t want anyone who isn’t you.” He sighs.

Her brow furrows as she looks up at him. He nods. He knew that since he was 22 struggling to fit in her extra long twin bed. She takes his face in her hands and kisses him. His hand slips into her underwear and sinks two fingers in. She whines his name and he can’t help the smirk growing on his face.

“That’s my girl.”

He flexes his fingers before pulling them out slowly.

“Fuck, Kendall.”

He shoves his briefs down and she opens her legs. He throws them over his shoulders and drives into her making them both gasp. He’s in so deep she can barely breathe. His hand finds her throat and gently turns her head to the mirror.

“Look at us, baby. Look how fucking good we are.”

She can’t help the moan that escapes her lips at the sight of their half-clothed, primal fuck. He’s right. They look so hot. It only makes her want him more. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on her neck wishing he could mark her up. She never lets him where people can see. Her eyes slip shut as he pounds into her harder feeling his pelvis rub that bundle of nerves with every thrust. Her nails dig into his blazer and she pushes her hips up clenching every time. He groans and she smiles. It’s amazing. He knows her body so well she’s already close. Kendall kisses her again and bites her full lower lip. The tension in his neck and his labored breathing lets her know he’s close too.

“God, Nish, you’re so fucking perfect.” His hand trails down to her lower stomach to feel himself inside her. He presses down with every snap of his hips. He moans. “Always taking me so well. You were made for me.”

She nods. “And you were made for me.”

The tiniest smile forms on his lips and their eyes meet. She spasms around him so suddenly it sets him off. He kisses her and swallows their sounds as they hit their peak together.

Their heavy breathing fills the room. He lifts her legs off his shoulders and she sighs feeling the ache settle in her calves. He pulls his briefs back on and just smiles at her. He has to kiss her again.

“I love you.”

“Me, too.”

“You love you too?”

She touches his face before getting on her feet. She grabs one of the Lysol wipes and cleans the yoga mat of any evidence. That’s the last thing she wants the maid to find. She steps back into her yoga pants knowing they’re going straight into the hamper.

“When’s the meeting?”

“8.”

“Use the shower in the master.”

“And shave?”

She shakes her head.

“Keep it.”

He shoots her an amused look that makes her roll her eyes.

“What about you?”

She tilts her head.

“You’re coming.”

She hides her surprise save for the slight lift of her eyebrows.

“We have 6 bathrooms.”

“Or you could join me and—“

“We’d never get to this meeting.”

Kendall walks with her into his closet and watches her flick through the hangers for a suit. His large hands settle on her hips.

“You dressing me?”

“Shower, you need to shower.”

Kendall sighs and goes into the bathroom. She laughs almost delirious. How is this even happening? She needs to get ready. It doesn’t take long.

Nisha puts on her earrings as Kendall zips up the back of her slate grey sheath dress. She catches his gaze in the mirror.

“Listen, you know Kate?”

“Your publicist?”

“Yeah. She said The Cut has a piece coming out about me and the guys.”

“Do you know what the angle is?”

“No. But look, your family isn’t exactly America’s sweethearts right now.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I just want the company protected. Cause it’s not just me, you know?”

“Right.”

“I had Rebecca draft a standard NDA. Just so they’re covered.”

Even if it’s a playful op-ed, she doesn’t need any bad press around it. Unlike the Roys, America doesn’t hate the Asuris and she wants to keep it that way. She turns to face him and places her hands on his chest.

“You understand, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Ramesh’ll kill you if anything happens to his stock price.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“You ready?”

She straightens his tie and nods. He offers his open palm and she takes it. They pass Malaya in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Malaya.” Nisha smiles.

“Good morning, Mrs. Roy.” She looks at Kendall. “Mr. Roy.”

“The kids are still asleep and we have to step out. No more than—what—two hours max?”

Kendall nods.

“Did you want breakfast for when you return?”

“Oh, no. Thank you, Malaya. See you later.”

Kendall keeps hold of her hand until they have to get into the car. He gives the address. Nisha looks over at him. His hand squeezes her thigh. She almost asks how he’s still awake, but remembers the answer.

“Don’t think you have to sign whatever they put in front of you.”

“If you like the terms, I’ll sign. If you don’t, we leave.”

“We should try to renegotiate before walking out.”

“Your specialty.” He leans over and kisses her trailing his long fingers on her jaw. “But if you rip Sandy to shreds I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“Behave.” She nips at his pouty lower lip.

“I really want you to make me.” He whispers in her ear.

“Settle down, Roy Toy. Get your head in the game.” She smirks.

“Yes, mistress.”

She nudges his shoulder with her own.

When they stop, he gets out first and helps her out of the car. “Ready to takeover Waystar?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

She trails behind him as they move into the building. He calls Frank about something. She knows they’re doing VC stuff right now. She doesn’t trust Frank no matter what Kendall says. He’s spineless especially when it comes to Logan. Kendall opens the door for her and she walks in first. Kendall greets them and Nisha holds back a smirk at the shock on Stewy’s face.

“Gentlemen, I believe you know my wife Nisha.”

“I haven’t formally had the pleasure.” Sandy gets to his feet and offers his hand. “Sandy Furness.”

“Nisha Asuri-Roy.” She takes it and sits across from them. She nods. “Stewy.”

“Nisha.” He raises his eyebrows slightly.

Kendall takes his place next to her and Stewy rolls the pen to him along with the paperwork. He passes it to Nisha. She sets her purse on the table and pulls out her own folders.

“Since I’m not here in an official capacity and my family runs a very well-known company, you understand that I need you both to sign this NDA before we go forward, yes?” She hands the paperwork to them.

Sandy flips through it. “It only pertains to your presence regarding the bear hug?”

“Correct.” She crosses her legs. “Hostile takeovers can get nasty. I wouldn’t want a company that’s not involved to be affected just because of who my husband is.”

“Understandable,” Sandy murmurs.

“As a shareholder in that company, I appreciate your discretion.” Stewy smirks.

“Of course. I don’t want you to lose a house.” Nisha folds her hands in her lap.

“Based on your reputation, your insight will be valuable regardless if you take credit for it.” Sandy signs his name.

Kendall’s hazel eyes rake over her slowly. It’s a look she’s seen many times when he watches her work. Pride mixed with lust. She looks over at him briefly and raises her eyebrows trying to telepathically tell him he can’t fuck her on this table.

Once her paperwork is signed by everyone, she and Kendall look over Sandy and Stewy’s terms. Nisha suggests all three parties need to agree on all planning as well as media statements. Since they’re already in bed together, Kendall is the odd man out. He’s also the one assuming the greatest personal risk since it’s his family. She suggests a flexible exit clause because if not, they will be fighting two fronts. It’s a waste of resources when they know Logan won’t be easy to take down. She doesn’t want Kendall getting fucked if Stewy or Sandy decides to go rogue. She may enjoy Stewy, but she trusts him as far as she can throw him. Sandy agrees. Just like he promised, Kendall doesn’t sign until the paperwork is to her liking. He floats some strategies as well as weak points of Logan’s.

Instinctively, Nisha presses her legs together at the sound of his deep, gravelly voice speaking with such authority and knowledge. Stewy catches her eye. Their Kendall is back in his element. With the suggested changes, it takes a little over an hour until the paperwork is finalized. They part ways with a game plan.

In the car, Kendall doesn’t take his eyes off her. His hazel eyes are mostly black from how blown his pupils are. She can feel the heat rising on the back of her neck.

“We should stop at mine first. So I can change.” His gaze is locked on her thighs.

“Of course.” Nisha nods. Malaya isn’t expecting them for another hour.

When they get back in the car, she tugs her dress over her stinging thighs where fresh bruises blooming in between them. They match the ones she left on his chest and shoulder. His large hand moves down her neck to her collarbone leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Your skin is perfect.” He kisses the spot behind her ear. She sighs, knowing he got high in the bathroom while she was getting dressed.

“Ken.”

“Hm?”

“The drugs. You can’t do them in the house.”

“I wasn’t—“ Kendall’s breathing hitches.

“I’m not trying to start a fight. Just listen, please.”

He nods.

“If you want to get high, I can’t stop you. Just keep it out of my house and away from the kids, okay?”

Kendall clears his throat. He hadn’t expected that. He doesn’t know what to say. Her eyes are locked onto him.

“Do we have an understanding?”

“Y-Yes.” Kendall swallows hard.

“Good. You can move back in when you’re sober. When all this is done.” She looks out the window and rubs her neck. She hates compromising about this. She wants him sober now. To say he never wants to touch the shit ever again because she and the kids are all he needs. That he would realize what he’s always been looking for has already been found and it’s his for the taking—if he would just accept it.

Kendall reaches for her hand and she laces their fingers together.

“We’re not a team when you’re not…you. And you can’t be an effective CEO if you’re high.”

“I know.” He kisses the back of her hand.

Malaya is dismissed when they get home. They spend the entire day with the kids reminding Nisha of what her life was like 3 years ago. Iverson and Sophie enjoy it and thankfully don’t question it. They play video games and a round of Apples to Apples which is Sophie’s favorite. When Kendall dozes off on the couch with Iverson due to his all-nighter, Nisha takes Sophie with her to pick up pizza for dinner. The kids want to watch Star Wars: A New Hope, but Iverson falls asleep on his dad’s chest when Alderaan gets blown up. Kendall carries him to bed. Sophie insists on watching until R2D2 rescues them from the trash compactor before Nisha can get her off to her room.

Nisha sits back down on the couch and rests her elbows on her knees. His eyes are back on the television. There’s a lot she wants to say but doesn’t know how. This morning when she got up she wanted nothing to do with him and an hour later they were having sex. She licks her lips and pulls her upper lip between her teeth. He finally notices her staring and puts his hand on her back.

“I don’t…”

He lifts his hand and she shakes her head. He leans forward on his knees.

“Please don’t…” Break me? Throw me away? Forget you love me?

He takes a deep breath. She finally looks at him. The tears burn in her dark eyes and she purses her lips trying to hold back everything she feels.

“I can’t keep doing this. It’s not good for anyone, especially the kids. All the back and forth. They need stability. This isn’t a revolving door. I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t.”

“Otherwise, I’m gone. I mean it, Kendall.”

“I know.”

She sighs and lets him pull her into his arms. She takes a deep breath and rests her head on his shoulder while the weight of him settles around her.

Kendall doesn’t spend the night to avoid confusing the kids. He gives her a soft kiss before he leaves. Nisha goes to bed with a lot on her mind.

In the morning, Malaya returns to watch the children while Nisha meets up at her planned brunch with her brothers. Kapil stares at his quiche as Ramesh simmers about Kendall being back with their sister.

“Seriously, Nish, I don’t get the hold he has on you.”

“He-He doesn’t. I just love him. You love Priya.”

“Priya and I have normal problems like which school should Aisha and Raj go to or if we’re gonna let them get a dog. Not getting blasted in the press for illicit drugs and failed coups.”

“Did you see��The Cut though?” Kapil perks up.

“Shut the fuck up, Kap.” Ramesh hisses.

“The writer wants to marry me.” Kapil continues with a smile. He shows off the article on his phone.

I'm Sorry But the Asuris are Seriously Hot and We Need to Talk About It.

By Mira Patel

Ramesh. The hottest CEO in the game. Nisha. The coolest boss bitch. Kapil. The genius behind your favorite wireless gadgets. I know Ramesh and Nisha are married and have families, but there's still time to convince Kapil to marry me!

Nisha tries her best not to laugh. She knows this is serious.

“This is different.”

“Yeah? How?”

Nisha takes a deep breath. Her brothers are solid, unlike the Roy siblings. They move as a united front. They’ve never betrayed each other. She knows they won’t tell anyone.

“Kendall’s planning a hostile takeover of Waystar. With Sandy Furness and Stewy Hosseini.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Kapil nearly laughs.

“And he wants me to help him. I had everyone sign an NDA. Don’t worry. You’re both gonna be fine.”

Ramesh may hate Kendall, but he hates Logan Roy more. There’s a spark in his eyes now.

“Think they can do it?”

“Yeah. Logan’s no longer fit to lead. Company’s suffering.”

“Hmm.” Ramesh runs his hands over his beard.

“Twirl your mustache a little more, Ramy.” Kapil teases.

“If I don’t see this through then what have I been doing for 17 years? Do you know how much better my whole life would be if Logan couldn’t torture Ken all the time?” Nisha leans forward and touches his hand. “Please, Ram. I need you to understand.”

Ramesh nods. “As long as you’re covered.”

“Yeah, I said, Shiva—“

“Not the company. You. If he’s a sinking ship, you’re not going down with him.”

“I’m covered.”

Ramesh lifts his mimosa.

“Then I pray for the swift demise of Logan Roy.”

They clink their glasses together.

“I can’t wait to see you make him eat shit.” Kapil sighs with a smile.

Kendall’s been true to his word keeping her involved in all the moves and doesn’t do drugs at her place. Things are tense, but he’s not pushing her away. When he gets too overwhelmed, he fucks out his frustrations instead of arguing and she doesn’t complain about that. She does mourn the many pairs of expensive underwear he’s torn though. He hasn’t replaced them yet like he said he would. But that’s the least of her worries.

The weekend of Shiv’s wedding, Kendall flies ahead and Nisha catches a later flight with the kids. They don’t need to be there longer than they have to and she’s never excited about going to England. The colonization of India left a bit of a bad taste in her mouth. Then there was the whole Lady Caroline of it all. Compared to his ex-wife, Logan practically treated her like a daughter. Her ladyship wasn’t ecstatic about her firstborn marrying one of those pesky independent Indians who couldn’t just stay happy under English rule. It’s one of the reasons Nisha went with the traditional red sari just to rub it in her soulless mother-in-law’s face.

Nisha arrives in the evening and the kids are wiped. She puts them to bed and lets them sleep off the jet lag. Unfortunately, by the time she gets to the cocktails, she runs into Caroline first.

“Always have to stand out, don’t you, Nisha?” Caroline looks over Nisha’s dark emerald chiffon dress with a lace bodice decorated in tasteful sequins. It has a simple scoop neckline and while the detail is beautiful, it’s not distracting. Maybe she should’ve gone with black or navy, but she’s really not drawing attention to herself. Her makeup and hair are simple along with her jewelry. But nothing she does will ever be good enough so she’s given up trying.

“Not hard to do in this crowd.” Nisha shrugs. “Rather homogenous.” All your friends and family are old and white, you shrew.

“I didn’t see the children. I hope Sophie isn’t getting too much sun.” Caroline sips her wine. Don’t let my granddaughter get too dark, savage.

“They’re exhausted. I’m sure you’ll see them in the morning.”

“Quite nice of my son to provide a separate jet for you three. Since you couldn’t join him.”

“I guess he wanted his wife and kids at his sister’s wedding.”

Caroline pauses and stares her down. She’s used to it at this point, but it does get tiring.

“Tom’s quite lucky, you know. Midwestern boy, normal life, and all that. Almost as spectacular a Cinderella story as yours. No one will ever beat such a fairytale. Coming from a single immigrant mother to marrying one of Harvard’s richest and most eligible bachelors.”

“And giving him two children and a relationship that’s lasted nearly two decades. We’re both very lucky.” Nisha knows if she keeps talking to this woman she will commit homicide, so she wishes her a lovely evening. She spies Shiv and walks over to her.

“Congratulations.” They hug. “The bride-to-be is looking very gorgeous.”

“Please, look at you. I’m so glad you made it.” Shiv looks stunning in her tight mauve dress with her strawberry blonde locks pinned up. “Kids in bed?”

“Yeah, completely out.”

“How long did you last before you wanted to stab the Wicked Bitch of the West in the eye?”

“About 30 seconds. Got to deal with some nice colorism about Sophie.”

“Jesus.”

“Made me feel right at home. Lemme know if you need me to keep the getaway car running.”

Shiv laughs and gives her another light hug before they break apart. She has plenty of other guests that need her attention more than her sister-in-law.

Nisha finally sees Kendall a sniffing mess walking out of the bathroom. She ignores the pit forming in her stomach as he approaches her. His pupils are massively dilated.

“Nish, where did you get this fucking dress?” His hands run over the bodice tracing the intricate design.

“Had it made.” She furrows her brow as he pulls her into him. She dusts the white power off his lapels.

“You look fucking amazing. I want you in this dress forever. And your legs—”

“Wow, okay, let’s settle down a bit.” She laughs and places her hand on his chest. “Good news. After how many years, your mom still thinks I married you for your money.”

Kendall huffs and pulls back his hands. “I can’t fight every battle for you, okay? My dad and Marcia are coming—“

“They are?”

“Yeah, so I got a lot on my fucking mind and don’t need you adding to it.” And he was being so nice.

“Ken, I know you’re antsy, but please, don’t take it out on me.”

“I’m antsy? Don’t think you’re inside my head. You don’t know everything—“

“Cool. Talk to you later.” Nisha pats him on the shoulder and walks away.

She talks to Roman, meets Gil, endures awkward compliments from Greg, and gets introduced to Tom’s parents. She needs a refill when Stewy finds her.

“That’s some dress.”

“Thanks.” She looks over his black suit and crisp white dress shirt.“You and Ken decided to match? That’s so cute.”

“Headed to the bar?”

“Yep.”

“Want company?”

“Why not?”

Stewy grabs them two glasses of white wine. Before he can say anything, Logan Roy walks into the room.

“We should say hi.” Stewy downs his wine and sets the glass on the bar.

“Do we have to?” Nisha pouts.

“Okay, that face is adorable.” Stewy points at her. “But yeah, let’s see how the miracle man got here all the way from New York.”

“Stewy…” Nisha whines as he guides her by the small of her back. She hasn’t actually had to see Logan in two months and it’s been great.

Stewy shakes his hand and chatters about work and Gil. Marcia smiles at Nisha who smiles back.

“I love this dress,” Marcia says sincerely.

“Thank you. How do you manage to look this sexy after a long flight?” Nisha chuckles and kisses her on the cheek. Marcia is one of the most gorgeous people she’s ever met. Her signature red lip is always immaculate.

“Oh, hush.” Marcia shakes her head.

“You look beautiful as always.” Logan touches Nisha’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Logan. I’m so glad you’re feeling better.” She lets him give her a limp hug.

He spies Kendall across the room and excuses himself. Marcia hangs back to talk to Nisha and Stewy, but they all stare as Logan approaches Kendall. She tells them of how much better he’s feeling and how happy it made them to make the wedding. Nisha goes along with this line of bullshit. Stewy’s eyes dart from Kendall and Logan back to Nisha. Two of his fingers tap between her shoulder blades and she realizes she’s holding her breath.

“It’s not good for a father and son to keep fighting.” Marcia comments.

“Mmm.” Nisha doesn’t look at Stewy. She knows Marcia is watching and going to report back to Logan.

“The children are sleeping?”

“Yeah, 10-hour flight. 3-hour drive. Didn’t stand a chance.”

“I hope I can see them tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

Stewy leaves Nisha to go mingle. She has a feeling he’s hunting down Kendall to see what just happened.

“I know things with Kendall have been…uneven. But you are strong.” Marcia nods.

“Thank you. I’ll let you get to your room. I know today has been very busy for you.” Nisha sighs.

“Goodnight, Nisha.”

“Goodnight, Marcia.”

Nisha’s already in the room when Stewy has Jess bring Kendall in. She shoots her an apologetic look. It’s not easy being Kendall’s assistant.

“What’s going on?” Kendall looks between Stewy and Nisha.

“I just got here.” Nisha puts her hands on her hips.

Stewy lets Sandy talk over the speakerphone. Nisha tries her best to keep a poker face at the fact Kendall told Frank. If she had been here, that never would’ve happened because she would’ve locked him in a closet. Stewy looks at her and she plays with her earrings. Things are being accelerated to tomorrow instead of the 19th because Kendall couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“Just keep me in the loop about the letter,” Nisha says before leaving.

She drinks some more wine because fuck, it is really good, and heads up to her room an hour later. Kendall slinks in while she’s getting ready for bed.

“I’m sorry, Nish.”

She shrugs and unpins her black hair. She shakes it out and ignores the way Kendall’s looking at her. Instead, she grabs a makeup wipe and cleans her face. She’s tired. She doesn’t want to fight. He slips his arms around her hips from behind. She sighs. She’s not in the mood for that either. They’re not stupid kids anymore. She removes her earrings and kicks off her heels.

“Need help with the dress?” He places a kiss on the back of her neck.

She rolls her eyes and he doesn’t notice.

“Wanna anger my racist ancestors and fuck in their castle?” He raises his eyebrows.

She does laugh at that which makes him smile.

“Too bad we don’t have the strap on.”

He laughs and kisses the back of her ear.

“Would you settle for riding me?”

She doesn’t answer and fusses with the clasp at her neck instead. Kendall undoes it gently and pulls the zipper down her back. He presses his mouth against the base of her spine and she closes her eyes.

“Ken, don’t you have calls to make?”

He tugs the dress down her legs and she steps out of it. He lets out a low whistle at the sight of her in black lace lingerie set complete with stockings. He lifts her and places her on the bed.

“I’m still mad at you. Fucking Frank? I can’t believe—”

“I know. Gonna show you how sorry I am.” His deep voice is low and immediately makes her press her legs together. “Can I do that, pretty baby?”

“Y-Yes.”

He kisses a spot behind her knee before unclipping her stockings. “These are fucking unfair.”

“I didn’t buy them for you.”

He pauses and gives her a look.

“Okay, not just for you. I like them.”

“I love them.” His large hands peel them off her legs. “But right now they’re in my way.”

He removes her underwear and kneels at the edge of the bed. His mouth moves from the top of her thigh down to her ankle in soft kisses before switching to the other leg. His nose brushes her inner thigh and she lets out a sigh of frustration. She can feel his breath on her center. She opens her mouth to remind him he’s supposed to be apologizing when she feels his lips. Just breezing over her skin and making her close her eyes.

Her heartbeat picks up speed as he slowly devours her. She gasps at how quickly the soles of her feet are tingling. She’s his favorite instrument and he plays her perfectly.

“Ken.”

His hazel eyes flicker up towards hers with the smuggest look on his face. He places his hands on the bed and dives further in seeking further penance with his lips and tongue. She grabs his dark hair and bucks her hips. His arm rests on her stomach holding her in place as he takes her apart. It’s too much. The pressure keeps building and building. Her heart is going to explode. Her chest tightens and she tugs on his hair. He shakes his head moving his mouth from side to side and she gasps. A violent wave of pleasure crashes over her as she trembles. He keeps going letting her ride it out on his face until she stills completely on the bed.

Kendall moves back looking very much like the cat who got the canary.

“You always taste so good.” He licks his already glistening lips savoring the taste.

“Fuck, Kendall.” She gulps in more air and slowly regains feeling in her legs.

He stands up and slips off his suit jacket. He unbuttons his crisp white shirt revealing that smattering of dark chest hair from below his collarbone to the center of his chest that’s impossible for her not to scrape her nails through. He unbuckles his belt and kicks off his slacks revealing how ready he is. She smiles unwilling to wait any longer and shoves down his black briefs. He tugs them the rest of the way off and gets on top of her.

Their mouths meet in a sloppy kiss and she can taste herself. He’s not wrong. She does taste good. One large hand snakes behind her back to unclasp her bra and toss it aside. Despite any insecurities she might’ve felt growing up, he thinks the modest size of her breasts is perfect. He loves covering them with his big hands and taking them in his mouth. But before he can do any of this, she flips him. He looks up at her, amused. After all, he said she could ride him.

She takes him in hand giving a few strokes before bringing him inside her. She inhales sharply at the feel of him. Her small hands settle on his shoulders. All the frustration she feels she shows in the sharp snaps of her hips and he loves it. She clenches down and watches his eyes roll into the back of his head. He’s mumbling a string of “please” and “fuck” with some other words she can’t make out from how loud he’s moaning. One hand finds her hip and the other clutches her breast as she picks up speed.

“F-Fuck, Nish.”

“You wanna come, Ken?”

“P-Please.” He nods violently.

“Do you think you deserve it?” She stops moving and arches an eyebrow.

Kendall’s eyes light up as he shudders at her sudden dominance. He loves when she brings this side of her into their bed.

“Y-Yes.”

“You gonna do this deal right and not fuck it up?” She clenches down again.

“Y-Yes. I-I promise, Nisha.”

“No more nerves?” She rotates her hips slowly. “Cause you’re Kendall. Fucking. Roy. My. Husband.” She bears down with emphasis and he’s whining under her almost delirious.

“Mmm, yes, baby. I’m yours.” His breathing is shaky.

“Good.” She grabs the hand on her breast and moves it down. His fingers immediately stroke her and she starts moving again. She rests her hands on his chest, clawing at that dark hair. She leans down and bites his earlobe. “Come, baby.”

His head falls back and his eyes screw shut as the pleasure pulses through his body. She follows right after and kisses his sweaty neck before moving off him. He laughs.

“You’re amazing.”

She kisses him full on the lips.

“I know.”

He groans. Fuck, he’s so lucky.

When they recover, Kendall goes back to his room to make the calls and promises to keep her informed. They’re going to do this. He feels unstoppable.

Nisha winces when Tom ushers her into the wedding photos. She was hoping to go unnoticed. She smooths out the English rose satin burnout print decorating her nude floor-length dress. She figures if the color had “English” in the title Caroline couldn’t complain. Kendall touches her back. He’s already told her repeatedly how much he likes the dress. She places her hand on his lapel and gives a picture-perfect smile. Shiv demands a photo with Nisha.

“I fucking love this.” She tugs on the side of the dress.

She wraps her arms around the bride. They press their smiling faces together.

“I wanted to wear a sari so bad. Make your mom lose her shit.” She whispers.

Shiv laughs so hard she throws her head back.

“I love you, bitch.”

“I love you too, bitch.”

“It’s nice. That they get along so well,” Tom says to Kendall.

“Mmm. Yeah. Shiv likes Nisha more than me.” Kendall nods.

Tom laughs awkwardly.

Everyone parts ways after the photos are done to go to the reception before the actual dinner. Nisha tends to the kids. She lets them take a nap so they can be up for the party while Kendall goes off with Stewy to finalize things. Stewy sends her a secure email with a copy of the letter and she gives her seal of approval. Once the kids wake up, Iverson wants to see his dad before they go back to the massive castle, so they go to where he and Stewy are staying. Iverson goes in and promptly comes back out with a pained look on his face.

Nisha stiffens. It was an accident, but it annoys her all the same that Kendall shouted at him. She thought everything was good to go.

“Stewy wants me to deliver it. Now.”

Nisha takes a deep breath.

“Sophie, laadali, can you go play with Iverson over there for a minute? I have to talk to Daddy.”

Sophie nods and walks only a few feet away. It’s enough.

Nisha places her hands on Kendall’s shoulders and looks him in the eye.

“I firmly believe you can deliver this letter and not scar our kids psychologically.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—Nisha, this is—“

“You can do this.” She kisses him. This is what we want. This is what we’ve worked for. I love you, yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Such a romantic.”

“I love you too.”

She nods and walks back to the kids. Iverson looks at her. She touches his face.

“Beta.”

He smiles. He doesn’t know Hindi like Sophie does, but he still knows that means something good.

“Hmm.” She drums her fingers against her lips. “I feel like we gotta do something really important before we go to this dinner.”

Iverson just stares at her and Sophie’s already smiling.

“I hopped off the plane at LAX with a dream and my cardigan…”

Sophie joins in and starts to dance. Nisha moves her shoulders and continues to sing at Iverson who starts to giggle.

“And the Jay Z song was on…” Nisha points to him and waits.

‘So I put my hands up they’re playing my song.” Iverson puts his hands up. “The butterflies fly away.”

Nisha smiles and dances with them as they all sing the chorus. It’s not very good and definitely silly, but it makes Iverson laugh.

“Nodding my head like yeah. Moving my hips like yeah. Put my hands up they’re playing my song. You know I’m gonna be okay. Yeah, it’s a party in the USA. Yeah, it’s a party in the USA.”

“We’re in England.” Iverson frowns.

“I know. Boo.” Nisha brushes his hair away from his face.

“Party in the UK!” Sophie laughs.

“There you go!” Nisha gives her a high five.

Due to Logan’s sudden appearance, Nisha and Kendall are no longer at the bridal party table. They’re at a table with Greg instead. Sophie and Iverson look bored to tears.

“It’s so nice we were bumped.” She whispers.

Kendall nods. He seems…off. They haven’t really been alone, so she hasn’t had a chance to ask about how it went with Logan. Though, his not-so-subtle speech about family gives her a hint. She takes his hand and squeezes it. He finally looks at her and kisses the back of her hand. Frank comes by and she wants to kick him. Snake. Stewy catches her gaze and rolls his eyes at the speeches. She nods. It’s basically open mic night with how many people are talking and Roman comes over with a microphone. She shakes her head. He gets down on his knee and offers it. Everyone laughs.

“Okay, um. Hi, everyone. For those of you who don’t know, I’m Nisha. I’m married to this one.” She jerks her thumb at Kendall and they get some applause. “It’s gonna be super obvious that I did not plan a speech. I have known Shiv for much longer than I will admit cause I wanna be mysterious about my age. She made me feel like family even before I technically was. This has been a beautiful day and that dress is a knockout. I wish you all the good things life can offer. Marriage is one of those special things and you deserve special. Both of you. And on behalf of myself and your big brother— Tom, if you screw this up, total Jimmy Hoffa situation. No one will ever find you. Please edit my motive out of the wedding video. Thank you.”

Everyone laughs again and claps. Shiv blows a kiss to Nisha and Tom laughs. Roman takes the microphone and goes back to the table.

“Good speech.” Kendall kisses her hair.

“Pulled it out of my ass.” Nisha smirks.

“But it’s a great ass.” He squeezes her thigh for emphasis.

She’s about to ask about Logan when Connor walks over and needs to talk to Kendall. She nods and watches them walk off. She wishes she could go with.

“Mommy, when are we gonna dance?” Iverson asks.

“In a little bit, beta. I promise.”

Formal dances happen. The cake is cut. All the usual traditions and Nisha can’t find Kendall. Even the kids ask about him until they announce everyone can start dancing. Then they’re off.

Sophie yells for her dad and runs over to hug him after what feels like forever. Nisha walks over with Iverson who wants to know where he’s been. She can’t fault him for his honesty. Kendall seems a little better. He seems to enjoy dancing as a family. When he dances with Nisha, she notices he’s trembling a little. Maybe it’s from how crazy this day has been and the fact Stewy told her he wouldn’t let Kendall do any more drugs. She hugs him and he holds her tight. It’s the way he doesn’t let go right away that makes her a little worried, but she pushes it down.

In the morning, she wakes up to Sophie and Iverson in her bed, but no Kendall.

She focuses on getting the kids some breakfast at the buffet. She spies Kendall with his shoulders hunched in a green sweater talking to Greg. He looks strange. Not quite himself. Not quite…something. She gets up to go to his table when Colin appears and whisks him away. Connor walks over with Willa and begins a conversation with the kids. She sees that as her exit and slowly follows Kendall.

She feels foolish stalking him like this, but she really wants to talk to him. If Colin’s grabbing him, then that means Logan wants him and if he has to talk to Logan she doesn’t want him to sneak off and self-medicate. She dashes behind a wall when Colin looks back. She watches them go into a drawing room and later sees Amir and Marcia exit. They don’t see her. She waits. She realizes she can’t just appear out of nowhere, so she moves down the hall and looks around like she isn’t quite sure where she is. That part is true. Gun to her head she wouldn’t able to find her way back to the dining hall.

Kendall leaves the room with his head hung low and Colin is close behind.

“Hey, do you know where—Kendall!” Nisha lies with surprise on her face.

“Colin, I’ll catch up with you.” Kendall nods. Colin disappears.

“You didn’t come back to my room.” She licks her lips, nervous.

“Yeah, um, I went back to the…it was really late.” He won’t meet her eyes.

“Okay.” She tries to chase his gaze. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” He still won’t look at her.

“What’s wrong?” She reaches out to touch his shoulder and he flinches.

There are tears brimming in his hazel eyes and it makes her heart hurt. She throws her arms around him and he crumples sobbing loudly into her shoulder. She feels the bile rise in her throat. She has no idea what could’ve happened to make him like this. She rubs circles on his back and he catches his breath.

“Ken, baby, please. What did Logan want? What’s going on?”

“I-I gotta pack. He’s sending me to rehab.” Kendall sniffs and wipes his nose with his sleeve.

“Logan’s sending you to rehab?” She blinks. “But—but what about the takeover?”

“I, uh, I’m out.” He’s struggling to breathe.

“What?” She feels like he dunked her scalp in ice water. “Why?”

“I really gotta—I gotta get—pack my stuff.”

“Kendall.”

He brushes past her and soldiers on down the hall. She grabs him by the arm.

“You—you can’t do this. How—how can you do this?”

Neither of them knows that Logan happens to be walking by.

Kendall says nothing and continues to look at his feet even though the tears spill down his face.

“Ken, you—you promised.” She blinks back her own tears.

“I-I’m sorry, Nisha.” Kendall’s voice cracks.

Satisfied, Logan leaves them alone assuming she’s upset about the takeover.

“You’re sorry? I don’t want your fucking sorry. I want you to tell me what’s going on. Why are you pulling out?” She clutches his hands.

He lets out an uneven sob and she cups his face in her hands. She can feel his wet tears dampen her fingertips.

“Kendall, please. Please tell me what’s wrong. Please! Let me in. What happened?”

His chest heaves up and down. His eyes dart frantically looking at anything but her.

“Baby, please. What did he do to you?

She leans in and tries to kiss him. The tears fall freely now. Give him any sign of affection that lets him know she’s still here for him. Fuck the takeover, something terrible happened and she wants to help him. She loves him.

“I-I’m sorry.” He pulls away.

“Kendall!” She yells after him, but he doesn’t turn back. Colin opens the door and leads him into the car. And he’s gone.

#succession #kendall roy #kendall roy x oc #kendall roy x ofc #oc: nisha asuri roy #happier now #fan fic

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the-obnoxious-sibling · 1 month ago

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Oooh how about top 5 favorite OP ships and characters? And Top 5 songs you've listened to this year?

(put “top 5” anything in my ask and i will answer)

top ships… well, number one should be pretty obvious.

shuggy - if i need to explain why, you have not spent much time on this blog, lol.

sanuso - you can blame beanie for this one, i vaguely thought they were cute before i followed her & ✨saw the light✨

zotash - tbh i'm not sure whether i still ship these two romantically, but i am always gonna be obsessed with their dynamic and hungry for more scenes between them, so they belong on the list.

frobin - yeah, it’s kinda basic, but imo that’s because it’s kinda obvious? that train ride to enies lobby, man—i’m still not over it. plus, the addams family vibes fanon entertains me.

hm. i feel like i’m forgetting a pair i’m really into. i like namivivi, i’m intrigued by crochawk, but neither one has a real tight grip on me atm. well, i can’t think of another ship, so i guess those two can share fifth place.

favorite characters! i’ve done a top 3 before, but top 5 gets a little trickier.

buggy

usopp

tashigi

luffy

ace

a couple strawhats should be ranked above ace if i’m being honest, but my marineford re-reads have had me getting weepy over ace, so he’s getting a tenderheart boost.

as far as songs go… i don’t use a service like spotify that monitors my most listened tracks or anything, so this is just broad guessing on my part.

something by mitski. i suspect if i could get the data for a top ten, she’d make up half of it—and only partly because i kept listening to her songs while trying to figure out which lyrics to use for my fics. “i’m your man” has the lyrics i think about the most, but “your best american girl” has been on my mind lately for… obvious reasons. (lmao, just remembered while pulling that link up that my reasons for lingering on “i’m your man” are similarly obvious.)

something by jack de quidt. the soundtracks they’ve composed for friends at the table’s various campaigns, one-shot games, and friends-of-the-show’s podcasts’ theme songs are all very good instrumental listening. the marielda album is a long-time favorite, while sangfielle and palisade are two recent albums of very different kinds of eerie music.

something off M A N I A. that album’s been my most played every year since it came out in 2017, oof, every song is at least danceable if not a bop. i’ve wanted a deadpool vid set to “wilson (expensive mistakes)” for so long, and a castiel vid set to “sunshine riptide” for longer.

something by abba. not sure what got me back on the abba train—the one song episode about gimme gimme gimme? the let’s learn everything episode about eurovision? generalized mamma mia nostalgia? whatever it was, i’ve been relistening to their music a lot this year. love a pop band with good harmonies.

”speeding cars” by imogen heap. she played this song during her npr tiny desk concert in 2019 and it absolutely made my week. no idea how i found this 2006 b-side, let alone listened to it so much that it produced that kind of reaction a decade later, but there you have it.

#tos answers #ask box meme #one piece #music

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potatoesandsunshine · 7 months ago

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hi anna now i dont have a New fic ask game for u but what i CAN do is send u more from that one from like last week. 6, 12, 15, 25, 34? :)

thank u abby <3 it made me really happy to do these :)

6. Vaguely spoil one of your fics without telling us which one it is

depressed woman decides to invent a new, sexier form of self-destruction, only to stumble into one of the oldest forms of self-destruction there is

12. What fandom do you want to write for more often?

literally any of them the writing output has not been good more video games!! i wanna write dragon age stuff i have a BUNCH of dragon age ideas and we’re at the point where i am able to overcome the Fear Of People Wanting Me To Be Lore Compliant. i’ve discovered ‘fuck it who cares’ in a real way. older games too - it was so fun writing about oblivion when i did my last playthrough, and i’ve got a skyrim idea that’s been on the backburner for about ten years so it should almost be time to write it. but also i just need to branch out from critical role; i like it so much but i get really stuck in a rut with it these days. if i had the brain space to get into a new tv show i’d even take something with that - my best friend had been trying to get me into true blood for a couple years now so maybe there’s potential in that direction. i’ve been kicking around a silly percy jackson idea after the tv series came out? i kinda just feel like tv is the way forward

15. What fic of yours would you most like to rewrite?

the one that is by far my most popular fic, revolutions in new orbit. i’m glad it makes people happy. i got a comment on it really recently from someone who still loves it! unfortunately i think it suffers from ‘wrote it in a rush four years ago’ syndrome and it is RIDDLED with things that bug me. i hate the pacing. i think the word choice is clumsy. parts that are supposed to have tension feel flat to me. there are so many FUCKING commas

25. Which fic do you think is your saddest?

probably chili, quiche, casserole, a taz amnesty fic from truly forever ago. it’s another that i see as sort of clumsy writing, but it’s literally all about sympathy meals and draws extremely heavily from my own experience with trying to support people in grief. it’s a much more real-life based fic than the couple of ‘oh this character died here’s my farewell to them’ oneshots i’ve written, and i really needed it at the time.

34. What title do you want to use, but can't figure out a story to fit?

you like to think that you’re immune to the stuff (yes from addicted to love :P i love that song sm. can we talk about the florence and the machine cover yet)

no amount of coffee, no amount of crying (from gotta have you by the weepies. can we talk about the samia cover yet)

not everyone’s got a sleeve where they can wear their heart (from riding into the sunset in a busted car by free cake for every creature)

the madness on young lovers’ lips (fast like a match) (from fast like a match by river whyless)

yes we get naked but not naked enough (from every body by thao)

as you know i love songs i love lyrics and a lot of times i hear something and think ‘that’s a title’

#answering asks #ask game #ty again abby!!!!!!! doing these really cheered me up

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o-the-mts · 2 years ago

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youtube

Song: This Woman's Work

Artist: Kate Bush

Songwriters: Kate Bush

Release Date: November 20, 1989

Lyrics on Genius

This is one of these songs that always make me a bit weepy. The music and the emotion in Kate Bush's voice is enough to bring out the feels. But the lyrics are from the perspective of a man when the woman he loves is going through labor and delivery. Having been in this exact scenario (twice!), the words hit me hard.

Every day in 2023, I will shuffle my enormous All Time Favorite Song playlist on Tidal and write about the first song that comes up.

#music #song of the day #kate bush #Youtube

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years ago

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Grunge-Metal Geralt 3

its finally time 😂 after months of staring at an empty google doc i finally had a useful idea - also y’all, go listen to ‘Brighter Side of Grey’ by Five Finger Death Punch bc that’s the song i based this on and its fire and i love it also all of ffdp is one whole witchery mood

Warnging: vague discussion of a car crash where Geralt was severely injured, big emotionaly vulnerability, swearing?, listen to the song then you’ll get the vibes i promise

__________________

“Give them a break, guys,” Eskel sighed as he wrote down his coffee order, “They had a close call. It’s not like they’re always this…”

“Gross. Skel. The word you’re looking for is gross.” Lambert snatched the paper out of his brother’s hand and stalked out of the room with Aiden in tow.

Jaskier scrunched his nose and called from where he was tucked under Geralt’s chin, “Did we drive them away? I can get up if it’s too much.” Even as he spoke, neither he nor Geralt so much as twitched to make good on the offer.

“Doesn’t bother me,” Eskel shrugged.

Lambert and Aiden, mainly Lambert, were getting fed up with Geralt and Jaskier cuddling and cooing and doing general new couple bullshit. Especially since they’d been together three years now. They were recording a collaboration song, meaning everyone had to be there, but it seemed the two vocalists only really cared about each other. Jaskier sat on Geralt’s lap, played with his hair, stole kisses whenever he could… at one point Lambert caught Geralt tracing Jaskier’s lips and forced a coughing fit to get his attention. He probably thought it was subtle, even if no one else did. So to take a break and get some of what he called ‘patience juice’ (coffee), Lambert ran to their favorite coffee shop while Eskel laid down his bass line.

It’s not that they were intentionally this annoying, not all the time at least. After the car crash, especially once Geralt started doing well in his physical therapy, the couple just couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Not to say that was the only relationship Geralt was suddenly extra involved in, it was just the most noticeable.

Finally, after tea and coffee was distributed to everyone it was time for Geralt and Jaskier to, well, do their jobs. Jaskier was fidgeting and humming little scales, doing anything to calm the sudden nerves he felt bubbling up in his stomach.

“You alright?” Geralt purred, nudging him with his elbow as they stood side by side at their respective microphones. When Jaskier only shrugged he continued, “What's wrong?”

“I’m just not used to so many people being here while I…” Jaskier motioned to the mic before glancing around him and taking a deep breath, “it’s a vulnerable song…”

Geralt’s worry lines in his forehead melted as he pulled Jaskier into his arms, “I can kick them out if you want?” he whispered.

Shaking his head and inhaling Geralt’s scent deeply, something Jaskier had learned not to take for granted, he steeled his nerves, “I’ll be fine. Maybe a little weepy, but fine.”

As they were about to start, listening to the instrumental track and humming their parts of the song, Lambert brought Jaskier a bottle of water and set it on his music stand. He gave him a quick side hug and kissed his hair, offering a small “sorry” for all his teasing. Jaskier just giggled in response, the kind that only bubbles over from too much anticipation. He missed it, but Geralt mouthed a small ‘thank you’ to Lambert as he sat back down on the other side of the glass.

Jaskier hooked his pinky around Geralt’s as the guitar intro started, needing that little bit of contact for the first line. When they’d written it it felt perfect. The audience knew exactly what kind of song they were about to hear and Geralt really hadn’t known if he would pull through. It took Jaskier right back to the dimly lit hospital room where he scrawled and scratched out lyrics to keep Geralt distracted from his upcoming surgery. The fear, the desperation, the little pockets of joy when they forgot where they were, the overwhelming love that Jaskier thought he’d never be able to fully give to Geralt all crept back up his throat as he took a breath for that stupid fucking first line.

His voice cracked partway through as he sang, making him fully grip Geralt’s hand, “I’m writing this in case I’m gone tomorrow,” By some miracle, he found his support for the next line, “I’m writing this in case I’ve moved along,”

For a moment he thought he’d gotten over the worst of it. A couple lines passed in relative ease, emotional but not so much it interfered with his craft. If he focused on looking at his microphone and keeping his breath supported he might make it through. Then Geralt joined him for the chorus.

“When the lights go down, Know that I am never far away. When the sun burns out, I’ll be waiting on the brighter side of grey.”

His harmony faltered and he involuntarily heaved a broken gasp in the middle of a line, desperately trying to focus on the mic that was now warped by the tears in his eyes.

Geralt broke off after the first word of his verse, turning to Jaskier and pulling him in again, “You alright, love?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry,” Jaskier groaned in embarrassment as he clung to Geralt’s frame, “I’m being a baby. I wasn’t even the one hurt.”

“No you’re not,” Geralt argued, running his knuckles over Jaskier’s cheeks to wipe away his tears, “Here,” he moved their mics and stands close enough that they were shoulder to shoulder and their fingers could comfortably lace together.

Jaskier squeezed his hand gently and gave him a brave smile, “From the top?”

“From the top.”

This time Jaskier tried watching Geralt as they sang. He made it through the first chorus and got to just watch as Geralt sang his verse. The pang of emotion in his chest was still ever present, but it was manageable. Until he noticed Geralt having trouble.

On “All you get to keep is what you’ve shared,” Geralt squeezed his eyes closed and his grip on Jaskier’s hand tightened. The folk singer prepared, relaxed, readied himself to take a breath in. He was expecting that one to hurt after how much Geralt insisted upon it. How he threatened to get out of that hospital bed and scribble the line himself if Jaskier didn’t put it in. He wasn’t expecting the last line of the stanza to hurt. It had been comforting to the both of them at the time.

Geralt’s lip quivered and his voice was almost pinched as he sang out, “Remember no one ever really dies.”

Even being the one to write the melody, Jaskier missed the first three notes of the chorus, “Fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that was on me,” Geralt sniffed and chuckled, “I knew you’d lose it if I did.”

“How do you do this?!” Jaskier exclaimed, chugging half the water bottle to keep the breakdown at bay.

Aiden’s voice came over their headphones, “Half our songs are his trauma and another quarter are group trauma. He’s got practice sweetheart.”

They tried a couple more times, even got through the whole song once with only minimal tears and one tasteful cracked note. But it was still a struggle for Jaskier to keep it together, and the more they sang, the more Geralt lost his iron grip on his composure.

“Look at me,” Jaskier instructed, moving Geralt to face him and adjusting their mics so they could sing to each other, “Just like when we wrote it. Except a little less pain.”

The joke earned a snort out of Geralt, exactly what Jaskier was aiming for, “This is supposed to be easier?”

“We can try?”

Jaskier did wonderfully for his verse, singing to Geralt was familiar and safe, even if the subject matter was terrifying. The chorus went well, but as soon as Geralt started to sing, Jaskier couldn’t exhale and it was all he could do not to sniff and ruin the take.

“If you’re hearing this I know you’re probly scared,” had tears falling down his cheeks again and Geralt’s voice cracked as his eyes welled up, “Nope,” he choked, “that’s worse. Much worse.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier gave a watery giggle as he wrapped his arms around Geralt’s middle, “Why did we decide to do this again?”

Geralt pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s hair, sniffling and holding him tight, “I think we’re sadists.”

“Back to back,” Eskel’s voice crackled in their ears, “Try it back to back.”

Leaning back to watch Jaskier’s reaction, Geralt hummed, “Do you want to? Or do you need a break?”

“Fuck it,” Jaskier shrugged, spinning Geralt around and following suit as he moved his equipment.

As they stood waiting for the tech to start the audio, Jaskier felt like he could really inhale for the first time all day. Geralt was there, he could feel his ribs expand against his back and his fingers tapping like a metronome on Jaskier’s palms. This is what they were missing when they wrote the damn song. The comfort of knowing someone is always at your back, that they’ll be there when it’s hard and even when you’re separated.

A warmth spread through Jaskier as the intro started and he felt ready. He still pressed back into Geralt on the harder lines, reminding himself he was still there, but they both made it through two full takes.

On the final one, as the recording of the softly picked guitar faded out, Jaskier couldn’t help but repeat two more lines, “When the lights go down, Know that I am never far away.”

His voice hung in the air for a beat, the sense of finality reverberating through the studio and bringing everything else to a stand still.

Geralt was the first to breathe, “Shit, we made it.”

“We fuckin made it,” Jaskier huffed, emotionally drained but immensely satisfied as he turned to hug Geralt from behind and press his cheek to his spine, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s get a snack?”

“Yeah.”

When the sound tech played the potential mix for the first time, he tacked on an echoing, distant sounding recording of their conversation. Everyone looked at each other and nodded, goosebumps on their arms and that feral sparkle in their eyes that every artist gets when they’ve stumbled on something really exciting. They re-recorded some guitar and drums, but they kept the vocals exactly the same.

For the album art they wrote “I love you” on the tattered hospital stationary that had the lyrics and chords written on it and took a picture. Jaskier had the original framed and hung in their house as a little reminder.

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mithrilhearts · 3 years ago

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hello! for the soundtrack ask game: may your forge burn bright

have a nice day!

Ohhh yes!! I love this fic so much, I did kind of a lazy playlist here, but I am VERY happy to do a fleshed out one (which makes me think more, yay!). But sorry this took me a hot second today, it really did make me think, and I enjoyed every second of it.

THANK YOU!

A Soundtrack for May Your Forge Burn Bright

3 Character Intro Songs (aka just character themed songs)

Home: Gabrielle Aplin HOME is such a hard concept for Thorin to accept, at least when the fic starts, and eventually he finds his - where it’s not a place, but a person. I feel this song fits for him in this fic a lot (as it has great hints of Bagginshield in it too!)

This Is Home: Switchfoot To keep with the theme of home, as that is the ultimate theme of the fic overall, I feel this one works for Bilbo easily enough! He feels he finally belongs when with Thorin and I get weepy thinking about it. It doesn’t matter whether it’s Bree or Ered Luin or ...??? But yes, he’s found home!

Arms: Christina Perri And to finish off the “Home” theme, this is the ultimate Bagginshield theme when it comes to this fic. Home is a person, not a place, and this song wraps that up nicely like a nice warm Bagginshield hug. You put your arms around me and I’m home.

2 Lyricless “Mood” Songs

Mountain Dwellers: Derek Fiechter, Brandon Fiechter This gives me big dwarf vibes, and it should! It’s literally dedicated to the tolkien dwarves so hey. Big Ered Luin vibes, it’s big and bold and fits them perfectly.

Hopeful Dynamis: Chewie Melodies Another one for the FFXIV fans, just called “Dynamis” from the actual OST release for Endwalker - this tune gives me some big Acacia vibes. Wherever that special little flower shows up, so does this. It’s so pretty and...well, hopeful!

1 Villain/Conflict Song

Say Something: A Great Big World Chapter 9 gets a lot of love here. This is the chapter where Bilbo is ready to leave Ered Luin, not wanting to be a burden for Thorin - not to mention, they also haven’t had the proper feelios conversation. All Bilbo wants is for Thorin to do is to -say something-. There are other conflicts in the fic, but this one still makes me mushy.

4 Scene Songs

I See The Light: Brent Morgan THE SCENE. The hillside scene with fireflies and northern lights!! It’s totally romantic and @stardryad did some amazing artwork to bring it to life. This song is 100% perfect for this scene (chapter 7)

I’ll Follow You: Shinedown I really like this song for the part of the story where Thorin goes after Bilbo in a rainstorm after Bilbo’s tried to have them go separate ways! It’s very reminiscent of Thorin wanting to keep Bilbo safe (i.e. he assured Bilbo the storms wouldn’t get him in Bree, etc) and of course, we’ve got a lovely confession scene here! (chapter 9)

Caught In The Rain: Revis Another good song for chapter 9. If you’ve read this chapter you’ll understand why it’s automatically a winner. That rain kiss? Heyoooo. But also if you look at the lyrics they fit really well with Bagginshield and this overall scene, as well as what led up to it. (chapter 9)

Something In The Air: Seafret I can associate this with two parts of the fic, not necessarily a SPECIFIC part, but like...think of a cute little montage of Thorin and Bilbo making the trek from Bree to The Shire pre-feelings - when Bilbo sneaks the acacia onto Thorin’s items! But also during their time in Ered Luin when they’ve got the shop and everything seems to be going perfectly. (chapter 3 & chapter 12+)

Send me any of my fics and I’ll give you a soundtrack!

#raz answers #naomi-elessar #weekend wips #fic: may your forge burn bright

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bopbopstyles · 4 years ago

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Best friend y/n taking pictures of H in a field of sunflowers 🧐😇

i made this a theyre in love with each other but no one wants to talk about it/quarantine situation and it kind of spiraled quickly

Harry had signed on to do the cover of GQ long before quarantine started, the cover supposed to coincide with the beginning of the tour and a bit of press. Quite honestly, he was excited to be doing it--the excitement from doing a big magazine cover never quite faded no matter how many he did.

But now that quarantine had happened, he couldn’t go into the studio to do the photos, the original photographer having an immunocompromised family member, so the team had asked if he had someone he was quarantining with who could do them. They’d send out some gear, give some directions, but he’d have more creative control.

Which brought him to you. The two of you were best friends, and so the minute he crossed back onto British soil you had decided to quarantine together. You were tired of being in your cramped London flat all alone and Harry hated being in his big house in Hampstead all alone. So naturally, you ended up at his in the guest bedroom. (Most nights. Sometimes you had sleepovers, all tame of course.)

You had been a photography student in college, and since then you worked at a couple of local London papers and magazines freelance, sometimes covering concerts, other times doing portraits, building a portfolio for when you could get a full-time gig somewhere. You weren’t 100% sure what you wanted to focus on yet, so the breadth of experience was to your liking.

Harry had always been your favorite model, ever since you met him when you had ended up covering his London show. You’d become friends, despite your expectations, and he ended up liking you enough to continually reach out, and other the few years you two had become best friends.

So when he had to get someone to take photos, you were the natural choice. He was comfortable with you and you were insanely talented, something he told you all the time.

The only problem was, he was also head over heels in love with you and every time you took photos of him his crush got deeper and more intense. After spending weeks with you constantly, he didn’t know if he could take the intensity of a photo shoot with you.

But he didn’t really have a choice.

When Harry asked you, you beamed at him, excited to not only be able to add Harry Styles, GQ to your portfolio, but also to have the opportunity to shoot again. You had missed it during quarantine.

Which was how you ended up in a field of sunflowers a little ways out of town, your camera slung around your neck, the one GQ had sent as back up looped across your back. It was dusk, your favorite time to shoot, and you had abandoned all hope of using and additional props to capture the light. It was impossible with just you, and frankly Harry was so gorgeous he didn’t need it.

You’d helped him get dressed, and he was in a simple soft pink button up, unbuttoned low, his chest exposed, and a pair of linen trousers that were tight around his strong thighs stretching down the length of his legs. His necklaces, the cross and his signature pearls, adorned his neck, filling the space the shirt exposed, and his tattoos littered his arms, the sleeves pushed up to expose his forearms. His hair was tousled and soft, a bit of product you had worked into it before you left the house helping hold the curls. Rings littered his fingers, glinting in the setting sun.

You were trying to work, directing him on how to pose and trying to find the right lighting, but he was staring at you. His gaze trained on your face, eyebrows scrunched as you messed with some settings on your camera. It was moments like these when he nearly burst out his feelings for you, the shreds of self-awareness falling away.

“H, shift your right leg slightly more towards me.” He blinked, refocusing, and followed your direction. He was leaning back on his hands, one leg bent, the other straight, you straight in front of him. “Now don’t more, squirmy.”

He wouldn’t dare. Music was playing from your phone, which was tucked into your back pocket, and he tried to focus on the lyrics. But instead he ended up watching you again. Watching as you shifted, getting different angles, shutter clicking. Usually he felt nervous in front of a camera lens like this, but with you, he was at ease. He could just watch you and his anxiety settled.

“Laugh for me?”

“Didn’t say anything funny.”

You rolled your eyes at him, and he just smirked. “Just pretend?”

He did his best fake laugh, and you gave him a terse glare. “H.”

“‘m tryin’! Hard to laugh when there’s nothing to laugh at.”

You huffed. “Try laughing at me then. How sweaty I am out in this field, laboring away to make you look good, while I look like a mess.”

“You don’t look like a mess,” he mumbled.

“Liar.”

“You look beautiful,” he said, the words falling from his lips with ease. “Always do.”

It was moments like these when being in love with Harry was really fucking frustrating, because he’d say things like that and how could you not fall for him immediately? “Shut up,” you told him, trying to disguise the blush rising to your cheeks. “Now laugh for me, you idiot.”

Harry followed your directions, dropping the act. You shifted closer, coming to your knees so you were at even height with him. “Pretty close, love.”

“I’m trying to get some close-ups. Now shut it and let me do my job.”

You could tell he was getting bored and antsy--he always did. Only took him like fifteen minutes of sitting in one place before he would be itching to move, moaning about his bum going to asleep. His head fell to the side, and you sighed. It was hopeless when he was like this.

“H, please, just a few more and then we’ll take a break.”

He nodded, picking his head back up to resume his former position. You moved a few inches closer, knees landing on either side of his, your body hovering over him. The camera was tilted down, getting an angle from able and he adjusted, eyes following the lens.

He could smell your perfume mixed in with his laundry detergent, the hint of the cantaloupe you had both snacked on before you left on your breath. Sweet. He absentmindedly wondered, and not for the first time, what it would be like to kiss you, to run his tongue across your lip. What your gasps would sound like.

Wrong idea. Fuck. Harry could feel his dick plumping at the thought of kissing you, the prospect making his blood race. He tried to think of anything else, tried to get it to go away, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want his fucking dick up in the photos, for Pete’s sake.

“Y/N,” he mumbled, sitting up. You leaned back, your bum falling to his shins, which didn’t help one bit. “Can we stop for a sec?”

“Why? Just need a few more, H, please. Don’t want to miss this lighting.”

“I--fuck,” he fumbled with his words.

“What is it?” Your voice was soft and gentle with an edge of frustration, a hand reaching up to brush a stray hair from his forehead. The sensation made his eye flutter shut, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“i’vegotahardonandIdon’twantitinthephotos,” he rushed out, his words falling between you two, landing with impact.

You blinked at him. “Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Um...what happened?”

Good lord, you were going to make him die of embarrassment. You two usually danced around conversations like these, both uncomfortable talking about the topic for the same reason but not knowing. The idea of talking about sex with the person you were in love with wasn’t exactly at the top of your list. Did he tell you?

You were watching him, a. blush on your cheeks. You looked so fucking gorgeous, sitting there with the sunset behind you, your hair blowing softly in the wind, your camera in one hand.

“....you.” He didn’t mean to say it. But then he did.

And he couldn’t take it back.

Your mouth opened, then closed. “Oh,” you said for the second time, the word hushed.

“YN, I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, fuck I’m so sorry--”

“H, it’s fine.”

This time, he was the one blinking at you, eyes wide. “What?”

Your head bent, eyes falling to his dick. He could tell thoughts were swirling in your head, your hand reaching up to brush a hair behind your ear, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip like you did when you were thinking hard. “I--I could help you.”

“What?” He sputtered, brain unable to process the concept.

But you just shrugged, as if it was no big deal. In reality, your blood was racing at the prospect of having him in your mouth, at tasting him finally. And for him, he couldn’t quite keep his thoughts in a coherent string. “If you want,” you said.

“You sure?” You nodded, and Harry cursed under his breath. “Then, um, yeah.”

You placed both the cameras on the ground next to him, clasping the lens caps over the lenses, before looking back up to him. Then, your hands were coming up to his waist and Harry thought he was going to melt into the ground at the feeling of your fingertips on his lower stomach as you brushed over the button of his pants. You were narrowly avoiding his dick and he couldn’t bear it.

Your hands tucked into the fabric once the button was popped, and pulled, the zipper moving down smoothly. You pulled off his pants and underwear at the same time and Harry groaned hotly at the fresh air on his sensitive skin.

As he panted, you studied him. Red, weepy tip, desperate and hard. You had caused this? You chewed on your cheek, the thought crossing into your brain that maybe you had the same effect on him as he had on you.

You decided to give him all you had. You shifted on his body, moving so your knees were pressed to the ground in between his legs. Then, you leaned in and as ladylike as possible, let spit fall from your lips and onto his dick.

Harry moaned wantonly above you, one of his hands moving to your hair and pulling it together, making a tie of sorts to keep it out of your face. Then, your hand moved from his hip to his dick, your fingers wrapping around his wide girth, and tugging softly, the slick of your spit making it smooth.

You watched in rapture as Harry’s head fell back, his hips bucking slightly at your touch. He was more sensitive than you had thought. You pumped a few more times, taking immense joy in the pants and whimpers falling from his lips as you worked him. When you decided you had teased him enough, you shifted your head back down, and wrapped your lips around his tip.

The groan that ripped from Harry’s throat had you moaning onto his skin, the vibrations just making more sounds echo between you. Harry’s voice was low and heavy and you loved the sound as you bobbed your head once, your spit and his pre-cum mixing in your mouth as you moved your lips down the length of him.

It was sin, he thought as he watched you. Having you on him like this, letting himself feel you like this. It was pure, unabashed sin. He was going straight to hell for the thoughts of you that were floating through his head. Of you on your back, of you moaning his name, of your hands on his skin as he pushed in and out of you.

He was definitely going to hell.

Then you pulled off of him and licked a hot stripe up the underside of him and rolled his balls in his hand, the combination making him buck his hips again, unable to control himself. But you didn’t seem to mind. You just smiled softly--he could see your face slightly from the angle--and then took him all the way into your mouth.

When he hit the back of your throat, he thought he might die there and then. Or perhaps he was already dead and this was heaven. Or hell. He didn’t really care, as long as you were there with him.

You loved the feeling of him inside your mouth, the taste of him salty and perfect on your tongue. You loved the sounds you caused him to make, the ripple of his abs, the soft hold he had on your hair. You loved when he pushed into you and then apologized under his breath. You loved him.

You added your hand back to his shaft and in quick motions, moved your hand and head together, meeting in the middle and working his length in perfect rhythm. When Harry moaned your name you knew he was close, his grip in your hair tightening and his fingernails scratching at your scalp.

“’m close,” he mumbled above you.

You kept going, not wanting to let up for a second, and Harry thought he was going to lose it. Were you going to let him come in your mouth? The thought had him nearly letting go immediately, but he wanted to check.

“You can pull off,” he said, voice rough.

But you didn’t move. You just stayed stayed, taking him as deep as you could and tonguing at his tip with soft licks that had his eyes squeezing shut, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

And then he was coming, in long ropes in your mouth, coating your tongue. Your only movement was your hand moving from his base to his thigh, gripping the exposed skin to encourage him.

“Fuck, Y/N, holy shit,” he breathed out, mind whirling at the feeling of you warm and wet around him.

When you pulled off, there was a small smile on your face, and a hint of his cum at the corner of your lips. He let your hair go and swiped at it, taking it and pressing it back to your lips, watching in awe as they parted and accepted his finger.

“You,” he murmured, “are incredible.”

You giggled and Harry couldn’t stop the next three words from falling from his mouth, no matter the fact this wasn’t the time.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widened again, his finger still inside your mouth. Your jaw dropped, releasing it, and he watched your expression absorb his words. “You--what?”

“I love you.” He was more emphatic this time, showing you he was serious.

The words settled in your mind, rolling backwards and forwards in your thoughts. Could it be true? Could he actually feel the same way about you? Maybe so, you realized. Maybe he was telling you the truth. You searched his face for any sign that he was lying, but couldn’t find one. He looked like Harry, the one you knew well, the one you trusted with your whole heart.

So you said the words back. “I love you too.”

The grin that ripped across his face rivalled any other in existence. “Yeah?”

A giggle escaped your lips and you nodded. “Yeah.”

Then his lips were on yours, and you leaned into him, hands moving to the back of his neck. He was delicious--tasted like minty toothpaste and the grass he had been lying in, the edge of a watermelon popsicle he’d eaten on the drive over.

You shifted closer, but something stopped you. You glanced down and chuckled--his dick was pushed between you.

Then he looked and he groaned. “Fuck--lemme--love can you move so I can pull up my pants?”

“Don’t want it in the way?”

He huffed, tugging at his pants once you shifted. “God, it really does have the worst fucking timing.”

Then he pulled you back in, re-claiming your lips. He never wanted to let you go.

~~~

WELL THIS BECAME LONG SUDDENLY! ENJOY!

#concept night #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles friends to lovers #anon #answered

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