#ALSO THIS ALBUM IS A LOOP. IF YOU PLAY ''THE NEW YEAR'' ONCE AGAIN AT THE END THERE ARE 12 TRACKS. 12 MONTHS IN A YEAR | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sinceileftyoublog · 9 months

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The Pines of Rome Interview: Sounding the Alarm

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Some reunions happen off the cuff, a band simply finding themselves in the same room again, missing what they had and immediately deciding to get back together. Others, like that of Rhode Island slowcore band The Pines of Rome, seem to happen over a number of years, a result of shifts in modes of thought. Yes, the pandemic caused guitarist/vocalist Matthew Derby to finally reach out to guitarist John Kolodij, but events in his circles both close and broad was what lit the spark.

20 years ago, The Pines of Rome played what was then supposed to be their final show. While they were never a political band, Derby was always involved in the local arts community in Providence, a scene that’s long been uniquely closely intertwined with political organizing through organizations like AS220. Over time, though, not playing music, Derby became less and less involved, ultimately feeling “detached,” as he told me over the phone earlier this year. A day after Donald Trump was inaugurated, one of the stalwarts of the local arts community, writer and activist Mark Baumer, was killed by an SUV while walking barefoot across America to raise awareness of climate change. Though Derby mourned Baumer’s death, he took the time to self-reflect and started to become involved again in the local arts community. And when he started writing songs again, he knew he had to write one about Baumer, which turned into “I am a road”, the first track on what would be come the first The Pines of Rome album in 20 years, The Unstruck Bell (Solid Brass).

After Derby and Kolodij started jamming, they contacted the band’s drummer Rick Prior and recruited a new member, bassist Steven Kimura. They entered the studio with prolific producer Seth Manchester, knowing they had something, not necessarily an album, but a collection of songs that at least continued on the post-rock journey they paused decades prior. “The By & By” featured an interplay among exploding distortion, mammoth snares, and gentle harmonics. “Slick Enhancer” was deliberate, too, featuring guitars that were at once rounded and raw. The comparatively twangy “White Ships” chugged along, but used silence and space like you’d expect from a band inspired by the slowcore acts of the early 90′s. Eventually, though, they decided to shake things up a little bit. “REDACTED” spotlighted shuffling electronic tape loops. “Siren” and “I am a road” featured acoustic, finger-picked guitar. With a little bit of reigning in from Manchester during times they wanted to go too over-the-top with instrumentation (Derby recalls the band wanting to put a harmonium on “I am a road” simply because it was there in the studio, Manchester standing firm and saying no), it turned out The Pines of Rome did, in fact, have an album. The Unstruck Bell was released in May.

The Pines of Rome also have returned to the stage, playing with contemporary kindred spirits like Cloakroom and an album release show at the Columbus Theatre in Providence last month. But before Derby even practiced for those shows, he started writing new material. The band plans to go back in studio with Manchester later in the year. He’ll probably have to be honest with them about their loopiest instrumental ideas. In the meantime, though, they were able to do what they wanted live, and yes, their sets purportedly included a full-band version of “I am a road”.

Read my interview with Derby, edited for length and clarity, below. He speaks about how it feels to be back, the state of post-rock, political music, and being inspired by new bands.

Since I Left You: Despite the presence of your new band member, does it feel like you never left? Or are you starting anew?

Matthew Derby: There is an element of that kind of cliché. There’s just something about the way John and I write. There’s some alchemy happening with our two guitar parts I’m never able to replicate on my own. When I try to write my own stuff, it ends up sounding like the worst kind of Journey ballad, which is dignifying them too much. Neither of us were able to achieve on our own what we got out of playing together. When John and I started playing again, we picked up right where we left off, and it was a tremendous relief. I didn’t know what I was missing. It felt really powerful to be able to have that articulation or musical language that really only works when we’re collaborating.

SILY: Do you feel like you had any newfound inspirations or influences this time around, whether instrumental, thematic, and/or lyrical?

MD: That’s a really good question. Definitely, in terms of influences, in our first incarnation, the combination was largely the Saddle Creek-style folk stuff that was happening in the late 90′s, and post-rock, which we were really heavily influenced by, bands like Rex, June of 44, and Bedhead. We were trying to combine those two influences. In the 90s, [I thought] that post-rock bands [were] going to stay around and keep making music forever, and [the] new form [would] become folk or jazz or whatnot. Five years later, it was gone completely. All of those bands disappeared. In a way, we started [The Pines of Rome] again because we were missing that. I personally wanted more of that kind of music in the world. At the same time, our tastes have changed over the course of 20 years. The genre striation that was around in the 90s has given way to a much more permissive musical culture, where genre distinctions are quaint and old fashioned. One of the bands we look to as a model stylistically and lyrically and musically is Big Thief. They’ve merged so many genres into this new Americana that’s hard to pin down and describe but feels very much like their creation.

SILY: Post-rock can go two ways, as does slowcore. The Bedheads of the world get the Numero Group treatment, while the cleaner, atmospheric bands like Explosions in the Sky or Mogwai soundtrack commercials. And sometimes you can get more metal or jazzy with it. Do you feel like that’s true to the spirit of the original post-rock, this genre-less style of music?

MD: I don’t know that I would have articulated it that way, but it’s a good summary. There’s more to explore in that space, and we felt compelled to push it in new directions but also retain whatever unique spin on it we could provide to add our voice to the chorus of people still trying to explore that stylistic train.

SILY: The bands that endure or endured, like Low, Yo La Tengo, and Lambchop, are unafraid to embrace things once looked at as cheating, like AutoTune and drum machines, and put it in their music in a tasteful way. It speaks to that lack of purity you refer to.

MD: Invoking genres [in general], there’s a way in which, like AutoTune, you’re bringing in a stylistic quality that’s been celebrated and maligned. Once the hype and the backlash has died down, it’s another way bands can express themselves. When John and I started playing again, one of our rules was, “If it feels good, keep doing it.” It seems like the most obvious aesthetic you could possibly make, but the initial hesitation of, “Are we just going to sound like Bedhead?” or any band popular 20 years ago that sound really dated, was replaced by, “Let’s just pursue this to our logical conclusion.” Run through our filter, it might not sound like anything we’re afraid of imitating.

SILY: Is there a song on the album where the rule of, “If it feels good, keep going,” led to something unexpected?

MD: The first few songs that we wrote were the last song, “Slick Enhancer”, and “White Ships”, which are slow tempo, open and spacious, with this culmination in big, crashing tsunami waves. To us, that was where we naturally go. We started, and thought, “Let’s go with it. This is what we do.” We play these slow, deliberate songs where we carve out negative space and fill it in at dramatic points in the song. Then, we thought, “Uh oh, we’re on the verge of writing a fourth song that does that same thing.” At that point, we deliberately changed course. There definitely is a point where you have to break your own rule because you don’t want to make every song on the album sound the same. We started to challenge ourselves. We said, “Let’s try to write a song in a completely different style.” Someone said, “Let’s write a krautrock song!” John started to come up with a riff that eventually turned into “Redacted”, which is not something anyone would listen to and say, “This sounds like Neu!” Its genesis, though, came from our desire to not want the album to be one note and to explore a different sonic terrain. We took a left turn, and what came out is not at all what we tried to put in, which was a lesson to us. We can try to deliberately rip off anyone we want, but it will always come out the other end sounding like what we do. We loosened up, and have been doing a lot more of it since the album was recorded.

SILY: In hindsight, that shuffling at the beginning of “Redacted” reminded me a little of maybe not Neu!, but Tortoise. It does chug along.

MD: Yeah. The initial impulse was the song “Hallogallo” from the first Neu! album. We originally played it where we all had volume pedals and tried to manually ramp up the volume. It was originally 8 minutes long and...started with the drums barely playing. [When] we brought it into Machines with Magnets, Seth Manchester said, “Guys...I don’t think this is the spirit of the song. Let’s find another way in.”

SILY: It’s an effective second single, though, because if the first taste of the new music was “Slick Enhancer”, which sounds like you never left, this one is a bit more unexpected.

MD: That was what we were hoping. I’m glad that came across.

SILY: What’s the inspiration behind the lyrics of “I am a road”?

MD: There was a poet and activist in Rhode Island who used to teach at Brown, Mark Baumer. He was a really influential creative person in the Providence arts community in the early 2000s. He was in the MFA Program at Brown and taught poetry. He was rigorously experimental and did all kinds of weird things. One day, he showed up to his poetry class in his coveralls and just cowered in the corner and pretended to be scared of the class, and that was his poetry class. He was also really involved in organizing. He was part of this group called The FANG Collective, an abolitionist group. They were originally protesting the [Iraq War] and [War in Afghanistan], and he actually chained himself with a bike lock to the door of the headquarters of Textron, a company in Rhode Island building cluster bombs causing horrendous collateral deaths in Afghanistan. He was arrested for that.

He was a really influential figure. I knew him and was always kind of intimidated by him. We’d go to readings together, and I’d say a few words to him. He had this practice of walking across America barefoot to bring awareness to climate collapse. He went around the country once and raised a bunch of money. In 2016, around the time of Trump’s election, he went out again, and on the day Trump was inaugurated, he was hit by a car and killed. To me, it really felt like he was the first casualty of the Trump administration. The whole Providence arts community was totally heartbroken. It was the beginning of my realization that I had given up a lot. We had stopped playing in the band, and I had drifted away from the Providence arts community. I had become detached. It was a wake up call. I became more active in local organizing and the Providence arts community. The song came out of that.

[Mark] was also an early vlogger. He has hundreds of videos of himself going across America. There is this last video of him on the day he was killed. Because that was the start of a change in me, I used that as the material for that song.

SILY: Are you still involved in AS220?

MD: Not really. Friends of mine are. They’ve gone through a bunch of radical changes over the past 10 years. They’re doing amazing work.

SILY: What sorts of changes?

MD: They’ve always been about supporting the arts community, but once Trump got elected, [they started to ask questions like,] “Whose community are you representing here?” They’ve taken huge strides in becoming inclusive and representing and inviting a greater and more accurate version of what the Providence arts community looks like, demographically and politically. Those things weren’t on the table prior to this recent spade of changes.

SILY: What’s the inspiration behind the record title?

MD: It’s related in a way to “I am a road” and the influence that Mark had on me. We were thinking about the idea of this alarm that hasn’t yet sounded. The potential that a bell holds. It’s a little pretentious, but the bell has all of the potential in it to sound the alarm, but someone needs to strike the bell in order for the alarm to sound. It was a gesture at this moment. John doesn’t want me to reference the pandemic, for good reason. This isn’t a “pandemic record.” The effect the pandemic had in something is undeniable, and we felt like we were experiencing in real time this climate crisis, and it’s possible that we’re already living in a climate apocalypse and we just don’t know it. That’s where that concept of the unstruck bell came from.

SILY: I don’t know whether this album is your attempt to sound the alarm, but, at the risk of sounding reductive, it’s interesting that this style of music could sound an alarm, this slow music. Do you think about that?

MD: Yeah. It’s something I struggle with a great deal. I do recoil at music that is overtly political or tries to push an agenda. My aesthetic sensibility tells me to stay on the John Prine end of the spectrum of making a song that might plant a seed in someone’s mind that would motivate them to take some kind of action, but not urging them to do so. Slowcore and post-rock aren’t traditionally the vehicles--you’re not going to go to a protest and start singing songs from Spiderland. It’s not really attuned to that. But as I’m getting older, the ways in which all of these systems are interconnected, I’m interested in that place where we can create something aesthetically interesting and new [that] tries to take genre tropes in a new direction. Part of that new direction asks, for instance, “Can we just write a simple love song in the time we’re living without it spilling over into all of the other things going on in the world?” It’s something I think about a lot, and I don’t know that we’ve carefully delineated the Venn diagram of talking about and raising awareness of an issue and songcraft, trying to make a song that people want to sing around a campfire. I don’t know where we fall in that.

SILY: If one of the main purposes of art is to create empathy, which I think is inherently political, the observational, humanistic, earthbound songwriting of John Prine falls into that. At the same time, music that’s slower in pace that requires patience to listen to deeply, there’s an inherent humility in that act, too. That’s where I see the Venn diagram.

MD: I really love what you said about patience and listening. Trying to slow things down is an act alone that triggers a different way of thinking. That’s really beautiful.

SILY: It can exist at the same time as the urgency. It has to.

MD: Totally.

SILY: What’s the story behind the cover art of the record?

MD: John is friends with Will Schaff, the artist. We’d been an admirer of his work. He did the [art for the] Godspeed You! Black Emperor record, [Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas To Heaven]. He did a [Songs: Ohia] record. He also started to embroider during the pandemic and would post these works he’d been doing on Instagram. I grew up in a Catholic family, and my mom was really involved in the church, and she did a lot of banners and tapestries for the church. The embroidery kind of recalled some of that work. We didn’t really think it through that much, and we gave Will the album title. I think John gave him the songs in their raw state and asked him to make an interpretation. That’s what he came up with. It was a collaboration without constraints. I really love how it came out.

SILY: Do you know what shape your new songs will take?

MD: This might end up being super pretentious and we might back away from it, but our goal is still to split the record sonically between one side all acoustic and the other all electric, as an organizing principle. That’s helped us shape the songs. We found that there were certain things we could get away with stylistically in an acoustic setting we weren’t able to do with a full electric setup. We may continue down that path, but [it could be] a cool idea that has no substance. We do plan to record a bunch more acoustic songs this time around. We’re trying to push out on both ends of the spectrum. We have songs that are a bit more aggressive, like the big middle third of “Slick Enhancer”, and much quieter songs. We’ve really been into the band caroline, and the way they’re able to play this one riff for 7 minutes and make this hypnotic hymn out of it with different movements. I don’t know how they do it, but we’re experimenting with songs closer to that feel.

SILY: What else is next for you?

MD: We’re trying to figure out whether we can get out on the road. Solid Brass, the label that put the album out, are awesome. They’re good friends of ours from a long way back. They’re also just starting up, figuring out how to work a label. We’re trying to figure out to what extent we’ll end up able to get on the road. Honestly, to me, when we re-joined, my single ambition was just to play with the band again and start writing and recording songs. We didn’t have any aspirations of putting a record out, even when we first recorded with Seth. We love working with him and just booked time for the pure enjoyment. We’re trying to keep that same spirit for the next record, keeping expectations of where it will go out of the equation. Once I start thinking about that stuff, it makes it harder to write the songs we want to record and that we’ll have fun playing and figuring out.

SILY: Anything else you’ve been listening to, reading, or watching you’ve enjoyed?

MD: We’ve been super into the band Wednesday. It was one of these moments where they’ve found a way to perfectly merge shoegaze and country music that felt surprising and cool. The lyrics are the best kind of David Berman, incredible plays on words, clever and funny while totally heartfelt and devastating. It’s a lot of what I aspire to and am still working toward.

SILY: A quintessentially Southern voice.

MD: Yes! And not a cliched one. Crystal clear in terms of the poetry and lyricism of it.

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cutielycheepie · 9 months

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Here's what I thought of NewJeans' 2nd EP 'Get Up'

NewJeans did it again!

First of all, I love their concept so much. I think they're my most played artist this year, I looped this EP a crazy amount of times.

I really dislike how short it is though. Not a single bridge? Cool With You could've had a great bridge. Don't even get me on how Get Up is an interlude, I'm so mad it's not a full song, it's the only interlude ever I didn't skip.

I'm actually not sure what the title track for this comeback is, but I'll go with—

Super Shy

I love this, their voices sounded so sweet in this song! Especially Hanni and Minji really shined in this song. The choreography is also so cute!

I can't stop singing the "you don't even know my name, do ya?" part, it's so enticing :D

10/10

New Jeans

Again IT'S TOO SHORT but I really like this actually, even though it's my least favorite track from this album, though it's not saying much considering I love them all very much. Also the music video is so cute!

9/10 should've been longer but it's cute

ETA

Here comes my favorite track on the album! I looped this so much THE RAP IS SO COOL ESPECIALLY DANIELLE'S LINES I love the "so dazzlingly, honestly, between us, he's been totally lying, yeah" part sm it's the one I just CAN'T resist singing

NewJeans music is always so good!

100/10

Cool With You

I love this very much but I don't have many words for it. It's very ethereal, I don't know how else to describe it :D

10/10

Get Up

Too short too short I need a full version ASAP (haha get it?). SERIOUSLY THOUGH I NEED A FULL VERSION ITS SO BEAUTIFUL!

10/10

ASAP

Someone said ASAP should've been an interlude and Get Up a full track and I really agree tbh. Not that I don't like it, but I would love to trade it in for Get Up full version.

Second least favorite but sometimes I just find myself going "just for a minute (tiktoktiktoktiktoktiktoktiktoktiktok)"

9/10

Ranking

ETA

Super Shy

Cool With You

Get Up

ASAP

New Jeans

Overall

Overall I play this album at least once everyday I love it very much and I knew NewJeans will always release bangers and I will always tune in :DDD

#NewJeans #kpop gg #kpop #Get Up #NewJeans 2nd EP 'Get Up'#Lychee Rates K-pop

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sha666y · 1 year

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1. Underoath released a new music video for 'Let Go,' and played the single acoustically over at 100.3 The X Rock.

2. Creeping Death announced a new album and released a music video for 'Intestinal Wrap.' which features George "Corpsegrinder" Fisher from Cannibal Corpse.

3. Texas Hippie Coalition released a music video for 'Hell Hounds.'

4. We did a vinyl re-press of Fair to Midland's 'Arrows & Anchors.'

5. Escuela Grind will be on tour with Greg Puciato in May, and will be going out on an headline tour with Bonginator in a few days.

6. Bodysnatcher is touring through April, and will be playing the So What?! Music Festival in Dallas, TX in June.

7. Click here to see what Pop Evil does on an off day on tour!

8. Watch a full set performance of the Callous Daoboys when they played Lowercase Books back in December.

9. Zardonic showed off his new mask.

10. Mastiff are heading into the studio on April 1st. 11. Zakk Wylde shredding the solo from Ozzy's 'No More Tears' is not news, but we think it's rad every time we watch it.

12. Ace Frehley continues to announce new shows; which one is close to where you live?

13. High On Fire has been dropping new merch all year long, and it seems the latest design by artist David V. D'Andrea is available once again! 14. We're proud to remind you or tell you for the first time, perhaps, that we're official sponsors for Milwaukee Metal Fest, Furnace Fest, Decibel Metal and Beer Fest, Desertfest UK and Desertfest NYC. Will we see you there? Hope so.

15. We missed a birthday! Travis from Enterprise Earth celebrated another loop around the sun last week, and we wish him nothing but health and happiness during the next one.

16. Speaking of Birthdays, Eric from The Contortionist has also survived another year. If you have not seen the latest Box Set offering from the legendary band, see it here.

#New music

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db-reviews · 1 year

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#176 - Thursday Afternoon - Brian Eno (1985)

Brian Eno has always been a man to put atmosphere first in all of his works, whether it be his art rock directions with Another Green World and Before And After Science, or his more well known ambient experiments of Music For Airports or Discreet Music. Like most highly innovative electronic musicians, Eno has a key sense of knowing fully well what his music is capable of in terms of space and flow. His subtlety is unwavering in terms of this music, and he manages to create not only some amazing pieces of art through it, but also one of my favorite albums ever recorded in music history, that being Thursday Afternoon.

Many people would probably ask me why I’d consider this album to be Brian Eno’s best work, and it is both from a musical standpoint, but also from a technological and personal one as well.

This piece is all about subtlety. The whole sequence of events can be seen as a purely simple excursion, a simple looping of an acoustic piano mixed with an electronic backdrop of synths and nature recordings, but that is what it might seem at first. This hour long venture is all random, and what you may think as a repetitious cycle of calm noise is actually a very technical display of skills, with the chords on the piano changing so subtly with each passing moment, that once it finally hits you, you realize the full potential of Brian Eno’s ambient workings. To me, this is the peak of Eno’s ambient portfolio.

Whilst musically, it might be good on its own, the technological side of things allows it to shine. This is one of the first albums to take advantage of the then new CD format, and so Eno decided to create a 60 minute deliverance upon this beautiful venture. To some this might be excessive, but to me this showcases the almost beautiful array of technology Eno can master, modern or not. To me, this makes Eno one of the most modern musicians in recent memory, that, no matter the changing times, will always remain ahead of the game, and it is something I have always found endearing. This wouldn’t be the last time Eno would take his hand at using new technology for his music as 30+ years later he’d release Reflection, not only as a CD and vinyl; not only a seasonal album that changes its run time, but also an app on IOS that went on for infinity. I’d say the 60 minutes add to the album’s whole appeal for me, being this one hour, constantly changing piece that I always find new discoveries with.

However, this album has a distinct impact on me as a person. I do not like to get personal in my reviews as I am of the mindset to show music first rather than what it did for me in my personal life, but for this review I feel it is needed. I listened to this last year in January, and I consider 2022 to be one of the worst years of my life so far. I faced many challenges during that year, with friendship, emotions, stress, sexuality, and me as a whole. It was the year where I felt truly angry, bitter, and above all else, sad in my life. It was a roller coaster that I wished never happened. But, whenever I felt a cold wavering of emotions through me, I would listen to this album at the middle of the night, fully. It started with January as I was under a ton of pressure within my school work, and it not only calmed me, but also gave me a sense of hope, a sense that everything will be alright in the end, and soon whenever I felt stressed, or under pressure, I would always try and calm myself with this piece of music. Sometimes it didn’t work, I admit, not every impactful album in my life can be played every single moment, but, whenever I am in the mood, I will always play this record to give me serenity. This is an album that means so much in the long run, and it helped me get through the past year, and hopefully many more to come.

This hour long masterpiece Eno has made is in a special place in my heart. It is the album that, again, helped me get through the past year, and I think it deserves much recognition. While it may seem simple, this piece has layers to me, and it is an album that I do not think I can live without. Truly, truly amazing.

5/5

#music review #album review #ambient #electronic #new age

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psykoticrefuge · 1 year

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Defining Harmony

"A pale canvas draped over a ramshackle driftwood frame moves ever so gently in the wind that whips the wasteland ash and dust. Tears and pock marks invading the structure through time. Defiance requisitioned long ago by the crafter, a single word lay claim to the mark it would keep. A dust devil shrouds the scene in totality save only for a silhouette, this monstrous amalgamation piercing contrast backlit with spots and full stage. The tumultuous and consistent storm sharing only a sliver of the complex carousel casting shadows hiding the delicacies. Surely this will take. Surely such a feat could not endure. A strike of lightning. Light source unscathed by will alone. Cacophonous and daunting, the silence mitigates more meticulous mountains, and lo, something's off.

A spec of colour. Where once laid irrelevance a poignancy plays placid pieces portrayed poetry. Twas nothing but the soft cascade of the erroneous eyesore mere moments. Another rotunda of thunder as the shockwave scatters functionality, this force bearing down breaking dissonance wrapped. And the shift again. And each time the terraformation condenses a new tide, the pocks find far more flavor unique.

Illusionary as it seems the pattern emerges only to loop but never repeat and it's so tangible in this state yet the illusion presses forward. Piece by piece placid particles partake the realm unending until the softest whisper welcomes warmly. In given time the room adjusts and the rubble settles seeming some sort of sigh and within it all the picture clears.

Waveforms aligned and maladies organized into a spectrum of contrast chaotic coordinates mapped liked constellations calling to question the skew of the storm. A blend of synchronicity reminded of the remnants taken shape. Harmony Defined."

This is the poem I wrote as the album descriptor for my first release after an almost 10 year hiatus. If you're interested in hearing the sounds that thematically follow the above, the album has the same title "Defining Harmony". It's also available for free on my bandcamp if you wanna download it (also the BC version is slightly different than the Spotify release but 99% the same, the auto fill messed up a song name on the Spotify release)

#neurodivergent #actually autistic #independent artist #psykotic refuge #poetry #original poem #poems on tumblr #female poets #trans woman #trans #adhd

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piratewithvigor · 3 years

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How I listen to each of my favourite bands (a bullet point piece)

Aerosmith: They're on the radio. It's the fifth time today. Somehow never the same song. Until tomorrow, anyway. One will make you homesick. One will make you sit in slack-jawed awe of Joe Perry. One will make you curse the day he was born. They all make you love him. In the back of your mind, your thumbs hurt.

The Beatles: You have all the studio albums on your iPod nano with the scroll wheel. It has 2GB of space, so there's nothing else. You sing along to the songs with your best friend in 7th grade during school. The teacher tells you to keep it French or to shut up. You switch to "Michelle" because you're 12 and a smartass.

Bon Jovi: You're on the bus home from a long day of fifth grade. When you get home, the same old, same old. You don't know it yet but this is the beginning of your depression. As you graduate from Crossroads to a 2-Disc Best Of, everything feels worse. You work on a puzzle in the basement and even though maybe no one will ever love you, Bon Jovi understands.

Buddy Holly: For the first time since high school started, you have a friend. She's wonderful and she understands you. Maybe there's 3 time zones between you, but it doesn't stop you from digging a hole deep into a fantasy world that you live in for months with her. Buddy's music is simple and the records are bright yellow. Maybe everything will be okay.

David Bowie: You didn't care when he died. You didn't know better. You got a CD of greatest hits for your birthday two months later. You still didn't understand the fuss all too well. A few tracks pop out at you and you get the album that features them. Dad insists you listen to the album in the dark on the floor (he doesn't say while smoking weed, but if it were the 70s, you would have). Finally you understand: David understands you.

Def Leppard: You're 13 and trying to find your place in the world. Trying to make a name, so you write. As the characters who make no sense are fleshed out in 1667 words every single day, the drum loop that finished Pyromania follows you around.

The Doors: You don't know how Jim Morrison came into your life. Maybe it was by an experiment gone wrong or a curiosity. Your classmates question why you're reading a book with a shirtless man posed as if being crucified. You don't know how to answer that you think you might be him. You hadn't believed in reincarnation, but he sparked something inside you. You can feel consciousness slip away when he plays his game called 'Go Insane'. You hold a Celebration Of The Lizard for a poetry slam and the adrenaline pushes you through your fear. You feel Jim's words in your actions for years. He watches you when you sleep.

GNR: You send your siblings out of the basement. They aren't old enough to hear swear words in music and you want to listen to Appetite in the dark. You want to jump on top of the couch and punch the floor. You can feel Axl's anger and it courses through you.

Journey: You've been told you look like Steve Perry. You aren't sure if it's a compliment or an insult. You think you sound like him. You know all the words to Don't Stop Believing at the school dance. Your first memory of your boyfriend was him singing it at the talent show. Your last memory of him is singing I'll Be Alright Without You, severing the final tie. Wheel In The Sky opens your next day. Things don't feel okay anymore.

KISS: You're 4 years old and your Dad is watching the scariest freaks you've ever seen on the TV. In the next scene, the scariest one is sitting and talking to people who look like your grandparents. You forget about them for 7 years. They show up again in your newest hyperfixation and you give them a chance. The freaks who once scared you strip away your fears and set you free.

Led Zeppelin: Your imagination was just opened to the possibilities of stories beyond the realms of reality. What you thought you never knew opened you to a new layer of your past that you didn't understand. The tendrils of influence wrap around every part of your future.

Motley Crue: The writings paint them as the villains. In many ways, they are. In just as many ways, they're the same scared kids you are. For better or for worse, they bring you into a community. There, you experiment hurting yourself in ways therapists don't look for. The greatest friend you could ever want.

Ninja Sex Party: They're a rock band for kids who don't understand rock bands. You have no physical media for them and it feels like you may never get the chance. Copies are limited. So your spotify is thick with every song they've ever recorded. They're fleeting and they're your rock.

Queen: You know just a little too much about them. They're bigger characters than the radio lets them be. You love Bohemian Rhapsody before you begin to hate it before you learn to love it once more.

Rammstein: As they bleed for their art, so you bleed for yours. Perhaps out of spite, perhaps out of desperation, but plague cuts your work short. It cuts you from the glory you could have had. The first album you've ever waited for the release of by a band.

Reckless Love: Never before has a band felt so attainable and yet so far away. Your family doesn't understand them, so you hide them away. The only recklessness was falling in love.

Rolling Stones: Angie helped you through more than you know. The lips are on your tapestry for a reason. You were blind for so much for so long. You never gave them a chance. They're using their chance now.

Rush: Once shrugged-off nobodies. You gave them a chance out of curiosity and desperation. Now you can't understand the possibility of never having liked them. They brought you your first great grief and your first proof of miracles. The red star of the solar federation burns bright. Assume control.

Styx: You're standing in the snow. The bus is an hour late. You can't contact your parents because they took your one method of contact as a punishment for not making your bed. You're listening to a Greatest Hits on your iPod. Crystal Ball. It's an hour. Blue Collar Man. You get home and no one noticed you were late. They're eating without you. Suite Madam Blue.

Tom Petty: The news hits you. Your throat is blocked and you don't say anything. You listen to I Won't Back Down before telling your Dad. He was the first you experienced while being a fan. He wasn't the last. You torture yourself artistically in his honour. You attend a tribute concert and scream yourself hoarse.

Tuff: You want to leave home and block out all the memories as best you can. Stevie makes it impossible. But he's also one of the only ones there as all your best friends who aren't online forget your birthday. He acknowledges you.

Van Halen: The grief is insurmountable. For weeks afterwards, Eruption makes your heart sink. 5150 makes you cry instead of imagine pleasant nonsense as it once did. There is no comfort. If he can go, what's stopping anyone else?

The Who: Maybe they got to your head a little. You were sitting in a room in school for hours each day, completely alone except for Tommy playing on your tiny laptop. No supervision. No classmates. Just your monstrosity of a project and Tommy.

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redspiderling · 3 years

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MCU Breakdown: Black Widow, Part 1

I can’t believe this is happening 😭

First of all, congratulations to all of you who’ve been here all these years. We got it. We begged for years, and it’s finally here.

For once I wasn't dreading revisiting this film to write down what I got from it. I felt more like I might not do it justice. This film is so special to me, but here it is, the MCU Breakdown of Black Widow, part 1 (of who knows how many).

I remember back when I started running this blog and talking about a hypothetical Black Widow movie that had never been announced, always "yeah, we would be happy to do it, maybe, someday in the future", and arguing that it would be important for women and girls, no matter its content. I'm so glad we got it like this. So, so glad.

The rest under the cut.

Let's start with some technical details. The film has a lot of setups and callbacks, nothing is done in chance. For example, I love how the light, and the sounds we hear when we first, and last, see Natasha in the film, are the same. We greet her in bright -birds cheeping- morning light, while she's riding her bike home, to her family

and we leave her in bright -birds cheeping- morning light, while she's riding her bike home, to her family (I'm using the term family very liberally here in reference to the Avengers for the sake of the movie, bear with me, you know how I feel about those dudes).

It's signifying new beginnings, each time, not endings. Notice how, what we see is natural light, which makes this scene pop out, and look more real because the light is coming from the sun, and isn’t artificially made on VFX software. You will notice the stark differences in colours and lighting when the emotions and the atmosphere change in this film, because there is a visual language being employed here, the director has a story to say, and she uses all the tools she has to tell it. The light is exactly the same in those 2 scenes, because Cate wants us to make that connection, even if we make it unconsciously.

Natasha is placed in such a positive way, both at the start and the end of the film. There's this discussion about how "real" their little family was, but it was the characters that muddled up that image. The reality of their lives in Ohio is presented in a happy way, that had deep rivers under the surface, for sure. This wasn't accidental, for a lot of reasons.

First of all, if you take it the literal way, they were spies, and had to present themselves as normal. If you take it the allegorical way, any girl could fall victim to trafficking, and if you take it the character way, both Scarlett and Cate wanted to showcase that Natasha is human. They also wanted to give her something that wasn't always dripping with pain and sadness. They were both parts of her life, yes, but there was also joy, and light, and once upon a time she had been a kid, playing with her sister.

Also, and this has been mentioned before but it bears repeating: I love the actress they chose for young Natasha, and I love how they presented her character. She's allowed to be a young teenage girl. She's not sexualised. She's at that gangly stage between childhood and adulthood, and there's nothing sexual about it, no provocative clothing, no excessive makeup. She's a kid.

Plus, I know Cate said the actress already had her hair dyed blue and they just decided to let her have it, but I think it works well for Natasha's character. That small act of defiance, even that early on, against the system that wanted to break her. Also, the film gives us such great character moments, because they let the camera roll and don't rush through scenes, look at Natasha looking at Melina comforting Yelena. We can see the pain, the fear, where she knows that this isn't going to last, and wonders about what will become of them once their lives begin to unravel.

We also get to see the joy on her face, the wonder of discovering the world, how often do you get to see Marvel characters do this, just live in the moment?

Bioluminescence: the production and emission of light by a living organism. Or how Natasha is a bright light, that shines from within. Not my words, Cate Shortland's words. I felt it when I was watching this scene, but it was lovely to have it verified in one of her interviews. I wish I could meet her, and tell her that everything she wanted to put on screen came through, incandescent and crystal clear. Fireflies are a symbol for Natasha, as a bright light that shines from within, and never dies.

Small details that I love, the magnet on the fridge: Don't forget, above a picture of Natasha. LIKE WE EVER COULD, CATE.

We have another setup here, where the family gathers up to have dinner together. Even the sitting arrangement is the same as later on in the film.

Notice also how both young, and adult version of Natasha, communicate so well with Melina, just with their eyes. It doesn't necessary show a deep history between them, but it does show a bone deep level of understanding. Not just of their current circumstance, but of their future, and of what it will do to them. Melina knows what's coming and she's says it "I'm sorry", but they're both resigned to their fate, Melina because she doesn't see a way out, and Natasha because, well, here she's a kid, and therefore is powerless.

The dynamics between Yelena and Alexei is so different. Yelena is young and doesn't understand, so they're speaking about completely different things. "I don't have my shoes" is what she says, and it's heartbreaking in its innocence, as Alexei is loading his gun and reading himself for battle. We can still see that he's not indifferent to her, telling her she can have "fruit loops in the car". He's not a monster, he just doesn't have a choice (or at least, he thinks he doesn't).

Also, notice how the camera angles are employed here: Natasha and Melina look each other eye to eye, Yelena looks up to Alexei, Alexei looks down on her, there is an imbalance of power and understanding in the second set of images, and the camera tells us that.

Melina doesn't let Natasha take the photo album. For one thing, it's certain that Natasha wouldn't be able to keep it. For another, Melina wanted the memories, and probably didn't want anyone else to realise/think that they cared about their little family unit.

There's just a lot of thought that's been put in the details of the script, to show us their bond, their attempts to hide it, to show the characters' personality in everything around them (notice the plants that are ever present in Melina's home, in Ohio and later in Saint Petersburg). She might seem cold, she has been through a lot, but she cares. And that care has brought her pain. And we have to see that pain, because we get the quiet moments like this one, where she stands alone in an empty home knowing that part of her life is over, never to return.

The mission, is the last thing Melina asks about. The last thing Alexei mentions, the last thing either of them cares about. First, she refused to accept that they had completed the mission and were now hunted, then she accepted it and they loaded their family in the car, and then she asked about the leaked files.

Also, notice how that shot is framed. Both images silhouetted by the light because it’s the moment and the prop smack down in the middle of the frame that’s important, now what they’re going through, emotionally, they’re not themselves in that moment, they’re nameless, tools of the trade, expendable in front of that tiny floppy disk.

Yelena is singing while the rest are plunging in despair, but still humour her and play her song.

I found this shot a bit... Jarring. I get it that for American audiences this would show that they're actually leaving "home" behind, but for the rest of us... Eeeh, I'll give it a pass because it is an American production and this is just something to be expected. I mean, Yelena's song was American Pie. We get it, you still love America, just because you're making a film about Russian spies doesn't mean you're a commie Marvel, it's ok.

But in any case, the setup for the action scene here was excellent. Happy, familiar music playing, car is on the main road, car goes off the main road familiar music gets toned down and eventually completely lost in the darkness.

Yelena knows what to do, we see it, so that we know that this 6 year old girl who holds her stuffed animal and walks barefoot has practiced for this moment.

By the way, Natasha did take another item with her along with the photobooth pictures (it also looks like a photo album with Disney princesses on it), it didn't survive the trip. We are informed of this for a very specific reason: Melina didn’t ask Natasha not to take the photo album out of malice, or just because she wanted to keep it for herself. She knew it wouldn’t survive the trip in Natasha’s hands. We also get a close shot of the image strip (and we get it again, during the credits), because it will be important, later on.

Bet y'all also forgot you were watching a superhero movie until this happened? That wasn't accidental, they wanted us to see them as normal people, this is the moment when that ends.

Natasha saved her family, even though she was a terrified kid.

I know that they did the huge titles thing to connect this film to Civil War but... Listen, Civil War needed the huge titles because that script and the way that movie was directed was a complete disaster. We needed to know where the characters were each time with huge ass title because there was NO OTHER WAY TO TELL. Between complete lack of a timeline, and the fact that you couldn't even tell what time of the day it was due to the horrible lighting, you definitely couldn't tell what the location was because it was irrelevant to the plot like, 90% of the time. Not to mention the title cards in Civil War were usually followed by dimly lit grey corridors so, yeah, give us a title so we know at least where they are, generally.

This film. Didn't Need That. For the most part anyway, there are 2 locations where the titles worked. First one was Ohio, the other I'll reveal later.

But here. Guys, they're Russian spies escaping from the US on a small plane... Where else would they go if not to Cuba?!?! This is the Black Widow movie paying for the sins of Civil War, in a small way in this instance.

Yelena tells Melina that pain only makes you stronger, Natasha cries, and they setup my heartbreak for later.

Natasha protecting Yelena, terrified, and staring men down the barrel of her gun anyway. Such a badass and heartbreaking callback.

Notice how this scene makes us look at how men view this. There's an allegory here as well, but I'll address what's actually happening in the film:

Dreykov notices Natasha's natural instinct to protect herself and her sister, and all he sees is something he can use. A tool for violence, instead of sex, in this case. But the implication is there. Not a person, or a terrified girl, just an object to be used by men.

So glad that piece of shit got blown up and never mentioned again. Any man looking for exposition on Dreykov to feel the "loss" when the villain is gone: Fuck you. Go get some therapy.

Moving on from that piece of shit, difference between Melina and Alexei: Melina apologised. Alexei lied, but he also tried to give them hope. We can see the devastation, because the soldiers never thought of them as girls like he did, and didn't blink before drugging them and taking them away.

Yet another setup, of Natasha and Yelena, drugged and powerless as they are taken away. Because it wasn't enough that they were kids, they took away all their choices, and rendered them unconscious.

What can I possibly say about this credits scene.

It's very real, probably the realest minutes in the entire MCU, and it's merciless. They don't try to sugar-coat what's happening, and there are no jokes to diffuse the drama. These are girls being trafficked from all over the world. I don't know about you but I felt the switch from true parallel to real life traffic victims like this shot that looks like footage from Interpol

to Red Room victims as being a clear shift, and I was actually grateful for it. Because here I could put my back against the fact that the red room wasn't real, otherwise I would have broken down before the credit sequence even ended.

It was a stroke of genius to create an introduction to this entire world like that. We rarely see credit sequences anymore and it's a shame, because when they're well done they tell stories in and of themselves, and this is one of the best I've seen.

Even the villain is set up here. He's pointing at girls and saying "that one, and her", like he's picking pigs for slaughter. How much more setup than that do you need, to want to murder that man dead? Not any more, that was enough.

Nobody speak to me I’m crying.

Subtle, but there. Trafficking (and traffickers) exists because it IS being tolerated by governments around the world.

Unnecessary title aside, who else says Natasha looks at herself in the mirror hear and repeats "pain only makes you stronger", as she's being hunted away from yet another family.

Then she's saying it again because it bears repeating and Natasha has been through A Lot these past few years. I love how unfiltered our first image of her is. After all she's been through, we basically see her stripped of all her tricks in a moment where she’s alone with herself and her thoughts(something we later learn she tries not to do much), and she's just a woman having a tiny breakdown in a semi-public bathroom. Again, human.

This is where I will leave you for this first part. Hey, I got through the intro, I count that as a win given just how long this breakdown has already been. If you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading, come yell at me in my inbox whenever, see you for the next one xo

#MCU Breakdown #Black Widow #Black Widow Spoilers #Natasha Romanoff #I'd like to think that all my followers have already seen it but just in case

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 years

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top 10 albums of 2021 [revised]

I published my first top 10 list too hastily, without nearly enough pedantic overanalyzing of my deepest, darkest feelings about music that came out this year. in order to crack this top 10 I need a pretty uniformly excellent album, one that maintains consistent vibes from top to bottom - not just a handful of songs that I really liked. this ranking more properly takes the full-body experience into account.

unlike my top 10 songs of 2021 and favorite books of 2021, which were friendly and imperfectly alphabetized free for alls, these are ABOSLUTELY ranked in order of favoritism and I want you to know that I have STRESSED over this order.

10. Live At Electric Lady - Bleachers

I'm actually surprising myself by including this; I was actually considering just cutting this list to nine albums when I remembered Jack Antonoff casually dropped this little darling in November. listen, I like Jack Antonoff, but I'm also very tired of him producing samey sounding songs for himself and every pop woman in the industry over and over. the actual new Bleachers album that dropped this year, Take the Sadness Out of Saturday Night, was perfectly competent but utterly forgettable; I listened to it once and then never again because I've heard other Bleachers albums and that's basically the same as hearing Take the Sadness Out. HOWEVER. I am a sucker for a good live album, and this a good live album that makes for real easy listening. thanks, Jack.

9. Stand For Myself - Yola

truly every day I thank god and the sweet baby jesus that I got over the "no rap no country" part of my life, the musical equivalent of finding out that vegetables are good, actually, and your parents just didn't know how to cook. Yola's packing a gorgeously rich and expressive voice that I jut want to put on loop for hours so I can Feel Things.

8. DEACON - serpentwithfeet

DEACON has slipped in JUST IN TIME to make this list, and the only thing I regret is not loving it sooner. the vibes are immaculate all the way through, a soulful celebration of serpentwithfeet's love of men and love and loving men. you'd have to be heartless not to groove with this.

7. lately I feel EVERYTHING - WILLOW

as soon as Willow dropped the first single for this album I knew we were in for an EXPERIENCE. a punky and eclectic departure from Willow's previous psychedelic earth mommy music - and packed with some truly surprising and well-played guests - lately I feel EVERYTHING somehow got more rewarding with every listen. Willow has made some extremely promising moves with her music in the past couple years, and I for one am delighted to see what comes next.

6. Hot Winter - Jo Rodriguez

my most unexpected love of the year, a bandcamp darling from an artist with a whopping 27 monthly listeners on spotify. it was one of many albums recommended to me by a dear friend who listens almost exclusively to unlistenable bands who only play gigs in grocery store parking lots at 3 in the morning while dressed as pirates, and I was shocked by how much I actually dug it.

5. A Southern Gothic - Adia Victoria

this album is absolutely everything the name implies and then some, folksy and yearning and a little bit witchy and deeply, deeply in love with the South. from the very first note I knew it was going to be good, and I wasn't ever disappointed. my favorite album of the year for gray skies and cozy days.

4. star-crossed - Kacey Musgraves

Miss Musgraves I'm deeply sorry for whatever happened that led to you getting divorced - or I'm happy for you? I don't know anything about your personal life and I'm not going to learn, because I don't want to and it's none of my business. but I do really appreciate you spinning the experience into this flawless country pop album, which I like more and more each time I listen.

3. Ruin - The Amazing Devil

an unexpected release that won my heart at once. I've loved everything The Amazing Devil have ever put out, probably because their music sounds like the soundtrack to a version of my life where I find a portal and run away to fight monsters with a sword. and now they also have a song to perfectly capture the feeling of sitting at home in quarantine for a year trying to figure out the fuck you're meant to be doing with your life - thanks, Drinking Song for the Socially Anxious!

2. Sometimes I Might Be Introvert - Little Simz

if you want a full album experience (which I do, always) you're not going to be able to get much better than Little Simz. her album GREY Area topped my 2019 list, and reader? Sometimes I Might Be Introvert is MILES better than GREY Area. listening to this album feels like taking a stroll through an impeccably curated gallery, every second of the experience calibrated for maximum artistry without ever feeling overbearing or contrived. Little Simz was also in Venom 2, if that sweetens the pot for anybody.

1. MONTERO - Lil Nas X.

yeah, Montero wasn't going to budge an inch when I redid this list. it managed to live up to an impossible amount of hype and then some, cementing Lil Nas X as more than just a style icon or a top tier shitposter. he's also an extremely gifted, driven, and ambitious musician who serves as his own muse, crafting his image and experience to tremendous effect. he's a genius he's the moment he's the future etc etc. long may he reign.

#batmanisagatewaydrug's funky jams

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inkedtae · 4 years

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rupture; rapture ⇾ kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ex-boyfriend!taehyung x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ one shot, angst, smut, f2l(?), e2l(?), ex lovers au, rekindled lovers(?), sculptor au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ responding to a late night call for help forces you to revisit truths you so skillfully ignored. was it always meant to fall apart to fall back into place?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 13.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ slight upsetting themes, mentions of a new relationship, mentions of infidelity (tae thinks reader used him to each on her date), vague mention of consuming alcohol, switch!Taehyung, mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, clay/paint/art sex(?), hate-love sex(?), makeup sex(?), size kink, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms (f.), creampie, overstimulation, a lil degradation, a lil face-licking, body worshipping, clit worshipping, a lil clit biting, choking, spanking, motorboating, begging, teasing, swearing, breath play, breast play

anon asked: taehyung19angst asghjkll. U have a prompt list ? So for that. Maybe. If u want to. WOW. Ur awesome. The bestest. Okay. Bye. Love. Me.

#19 ⇝ “You said you knew how to do this.”

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i am aware this is supposed to be a drabble but that never seems to be even for taehyung so here’s a one shot instead. also sorry for writing this so late

☾ banner by ⇾ @editingverse (thank you so so so much dear~ please go give her all your love!! this banner is beautiful!!)

☾ beta’d by ⇾ @kkulmoon (luff you, my soulmate crackhead~)

☾ le playlist

◖send me a prompt from dabble drabble. i will try to get to it as soon as i can. please note that i have the right to refuse any request i find uncomfortable.◗

Navigating to the chipped yellow door is second nature. Four months of distance does not change how easy it is for you to find your way to his place from across town. Your most haunting regret, however, is accepting his call. You sat around your apartment for months, fantasizing about how powerful you’d feel when your phone rings and you see his name flash only to decline the call. You told yourself that is how you will regain your dignity, how you will reclaim your life. He’s been a big part of it since freshman year. Best friends instantly, lovers only a year down the line. Clicking that red button, rejecting his apologies is how you believed you’d be able to move on and fully erase him from your life for good.

But, in the midst of a drink with someone else’s company, he calls and you do not refuse. Your heart flips only to fall and shatter in the pit of your stomach. You press the green button without much thought and bring the phone to your ear. He sounds so unsure, so nervous. A relieved sigh you didn’t realize you were holding escapes you. Eyes watering, you whisper his name.

The shame creeps upon you, condescendingly soothing your ego. Where’s your dignity now? It’s as nonexistent as when you stormed out of this very door and swore never to return. You can hear the fates snickering, watching your pathetic self stand outside of the door. Shaking out a shiver, you gather up the scattered pieces of your courage and knock on the door.

The screech of metal on metal echoes as he unlocks the door. The sound is more comforting than you expected it to be. You can’t remember the amount of times you’ve nagged him to replace the damned thing. It’s old, rusted, and the scratches of the metal make you cringe as though your bones are rotting. It used to make your jaw ache, now it only comforts you. Little things already undress your confidence. What will seeing him again do? What emotions will it beckon?

Misery leaks from your bones and into your bloodstream. The door opens to a vision of grace. In his clay-smeared jumpsuit, the sleeves wrapped around his waist and his bare chest exposed, he stares back at you. Though frozen from the winter air, you feel your face grow hot. Eyes shaking, you don’t know where to look. You’re not even sure if you can meet his gaze. It intensifies with every ticking second his long bangs fall over his lashes. He let it grow out? You’ve begged him to do so for months and once you’re apart he finally gives in? You knew he’d look good, maybe even better than his shorter cut.

The sight only confirms that you’ll never understand him. But, you suppose, you don’t have to. He’s not yours to understand anymore, not even as a friend. That statement should give you a sense of relief, but it only resurfaces the loneliness you’ve been ignoring for months.

Shakily sighing, you plaster a polite smile and greet, “Hey Tae.”

Taehyung parts his lips, but his voice catches. He stares back at you, gaze dancing up and down your frame. He drinks in the way your black dress pants hug your curves, and how you dare to wear a tube-top under your coat in the freezing weather. Gulping, Taehyung flashes you a kind, tight lipped smile and moves aside to welcome you in. His chain looped earring dangles with his movements. It’s such a simple antic, but you cannot fight off the familiar comfort in your chest upon catching it.

Each step back into his apartment fogs your mind with memories of joy and despair alike. Sometimes, those emotions rise in tandem during the same memory, within the same five minute time span. But other times, those memories are saturated with one emotion or the other. You two could never find that balance; not as lovers anyway, not as you thought.

“Make yourself at hom-” he cuts himself off just as the door shuts.

You turn to face him, raising a brow at his slip up. Funny how things circle back no matter how much either of you try to suppress them. This place has always felt like home to you. In fact, revisiting it proves that it still does. He just never let you make it official.

The gloom of four months ago has followed you back in here as well, it would seem. You gulp down the little scratch in your throat and try your best to flash a smile. His brows raise at the gesture. You assume a teeth braced wince paints your features instead.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung corrects himself, “Comfortable. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab you a hot drink to warm you up.” His gaze shifts to the slanted window over his little studio sectioned in the corner of his apartment. “It’s really coming down out there.”

Setting your clutch down on his work table, you nod. He glares at your action before looking back at you. You are fully aware of his distaste for you to dump your things near his work, even if it happens to be your own sculpting supplies. However, he distrubed your date tonight and that little slip up of his recalls more anger than you care to accept right now. Playing into his pet peeves is the very least you can do to show him that you’re not here for anything else but fixing his sculpture.

With a pleasant smile plastered on your lips, you peel your jacket off and set it down on the table as well. Taehyung sarcastically smirks then makes his way to the kitchen. You know you shouldn’t but you let your eyes linger on his frame and follow him around the kitchen while he prepares something for you. His shoulder blades flex as he reaches for a mug from the top shelf - a detail you always found makes you anxious because the cups can easily slip out of his hand from such a height and break.

He must feel your gaze as he glances back at you. “You must be freezing,” he comments.

Looking down at your half top, you shrug. “Not really. That’s what a jacket is for.” You shouldn’t sass. It always gets on his nerves. But, the way he regards you with such tamed hostility and smirks all knowingly, switches something in you. You cannot hold yourself back and he cannot expect to call you over here in the dead of night for help only to glare and sneer at you.

Out of sheer spite, you sit on one of the stools by the table and bend down to untie your thick heeled boots. He absolutely hates this. Sloppy and messy, is what he tells you when you come into the apartment with your shoes on and take them off near his studio. Taehyung stirs the contents of your mug, tossing daggers at you in his stares.

It is only now, in the thick silence, do you hear the soft voice of Sinatra through the vinyl player. Glancing over at the source, you recognize the album cover immediately. It’s the same one you gifted him for his birthday last year. His next one is in a couple of weeks. The realization unexpectedly twinges your heart with guilt. You feel as though you should have already bought his gift, and planned his party. It’s not your responsibility to do that anymore, but you want to and that’s enough for your tongue to coat with disgusted remorse.

“Want me to get you a sweater?” Taehyung asks.

You sit up straight at the close sound of his voice. He stands in front of you with the mug in his hands, glaring down at your boots. Kicking them off by the heel, you stare down at the puddle you’ve made beneath the chair. You should apologize but, instead, you thank him for the drink, take it from his hands, and make your way to the project he’s been working on. He mutters curses under his breath before cleaning up the mess you’ve made… As he should.

You smirk into your cup before taking a sip. Hot chocolate. It’s all he can make, or cares to make. And though it is not your favourite drink, he still prepares it to your specifications. Extra sweet and creamy, with a dash of ginger. Could the habits of your past be muscle memory he cannot shake either?

The answer never arrives as your thoughts halt at the sight of his sculpture. Though returned back onto its pedestal, the torso seems to have endured a terrible fall. He’s so careful about things like this. How could he have let it happen? Was the inner wiring he used too heavy? Did he not use enough slip, otherwise known as wet clay, to keep additions in place?

You bite the inside of your cheeks to school your features. Still, there is no hiding the truth. Especially when it’s right in front of you. Redemption is nonexistent. The sculpture is ruined. Tilting your head, you stare at the unfinished molding and try to figure out how to fix it without adding more clay, since he claimed on the phone that he doesn’t have enough to start over.

“Well?” He asks behind you.

Looking back at him, you take another sip then hand him the cup to hold. Taehyung accepts it, bringing the mug to his lips. The gesture is so simple, so casual that you almost miss it. He did it a lot when you two were together. You did it too. It was never a pet peeve but rather something you were proud of. It proved how close you two were, how well you meshed. Sharing food is common between lovers. Only now, that’s not at all what you are.

You stare at him, mouth gape. He licks his lips before taking another sip. The action repairs your heart only for your reality to wreck it all over again. Catching your eye, he raises his brows in confusion. You flicker your gaze between him and the cup, hoping the silent gesture is enough to return his senses.

Eyes widening, he holds the cup away from his face. “Oh,” he hums under his breath. “I’ll, uh, get you a new one.”

“Don’t bother,” you shrug before he can even turn towards the kitchen. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It is. You’re not his and neither is that hot chocolate. He should know better. He should pay attention more. He can see this all in your eyes as you continue to silently judge him. It’s not that big a deal, you repeat to yourself. The way his large eyes soften, the way he pouts is not that big a deal. You have a job to do, feelings to ignore, and a person to never see again. All you have to do is remold the clay and be on your way.

Finally returning your attention to the sculpture, you approach it while pulling your hair back. It’s rather large since he scaled it to be life-sized, so you assume he has some structural wiring in there to keep it in place when molding. You might have to take it out and remold the entire section. But maybe you can simply push the wiring back in place? However, if your theory about the wiring being too heavy is correct, you might face another smash to the floor. So it seems easier to just pull it all out.

“Is the clay still wet?” You ask before poking the shoulder.

It’s tacky, but that’s not enough to keep it from drying. You scan the room for the spray bottle, finding it behind you. Being a sculptor yourself, you know that the clay has to stay wet enough to be able to continue to add and mold it. Your scan of the room reflects that he is close to finishing the project. He has the muse’s head and arms wrapped in air-tight bags to keep them from drying. They just need to be slipped, slid, and smoothed into place. The details also need to be added, but for the most part, he’s just about done.

“If you’re gonna figure it out yourself, why did you ask me?” He sighs as he sets the mug down near a cup of paint water.

His tone is uncalled for. Nothing seems to have changed. He still has a temper and makes no effort to readjust his attitude. You toss him a glare over your shoulder. After spraying some water over the sculpture, you start to dig your fingers into the molding. Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath behind you. You can’t blame him for such a reaction. It must be very disturbing to watch someone else dig through your hard work.

You take off the clay bit by bit, looking for the metal structure wires he must’ve used to keep it all shaped well. However, as you place another chunk on the table, you begin to realize that the sculpture is not hollow, meaning wires have not been used. He simply ventilated the slab of clay to help air bubbles escape when it comes time to fire it.

Furrowing your brows, you look over at him in confusion. He leans back against his work table with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at you. Is this a joke? He doesn’t need your help. He could’ve dug through the smushed clay and remorphed it himself. He’s more experienced than you are; he should’ve known this.

Your anger begins to fester in your chest. He must’ve heard. You still share some mutual friends, so he must’ve heard down the line that you were going out with somebody else tonight. Your outfit of choice is a clear indicator as well. He found out about your date, your first date in the last four months you’ve been broken up, and just needed to ruin it for you. Fuck, you can’t believe you seriously bought his lies again. It’s that stupid voice of his. So deep and soulful, you can never resist it’s lulling temptations.

“What?” Taehyung pushes himself off the table and walks towards you. “You’re pouting like you always do just before you’re about to shout. Is it that bad?”

Is that what he’s doing now? He’s trying to remind you how well he knows you, how well he can read you? If this is just another reminder that no one is like him, you just might prove him right and scream out of frustration. Huffing, you roll your eyes at him. No matter how much your heart flips and flutters at his concern, you will not fall for his stupid games.

He watches in confusion as you clean your hands off with a cloth. “God, (Y/N), what is it? I thought you said you knew how to do this.”

With a dry chuckle, you shake your head and mumble, “You’re still the same liar you’ve always been, Taehyung.”

The perplexed sculptor narrows his eyes. “What did I tell you about mumbling?” He questions in a grumble. “And what the hell are you going on about anyways?”

His tendency to be a walking contradiction will never cease to irk you. He tells you not to mumble then does it himself. Just another pet peeve he’s instilled in you that you can never shake. Then there’s the continuous lies he can never seem to stop telling. For once, why can’t he just be honest?

You toss the dirty cloth at him and make your way to his precious work table only to find that he moved your things to the chair by the door. You rush in that direction instead, and Taehyung follows not too far behind. “I can’t believe you’re still pulling this shit even when it’s over,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “You made it seem like you had no idea what to do. You guilted me into coming back here and for what? To ruin the first night I stopped thinking about you? Well, congratulations,” you drily chuckle as you grab your clutch and turn to face him. “You’ve ruined my night and my date.”

Taehyung pauses mid stride. “Oh,” he rasps, eyes roaming over your body once more. “You had a date tonight?”

Eyes wide, softened, and wet, his next words catch in his throat. All you can make out is a quiet rasp. It’s a convincing act, but you know him well enough to spot his feigned innocence from a mile away. Setting your jaw, you shake your head and sigh, “Not any more.”

You reach for your jacket, but Taehyung is quicker. He snatches it first and holds it behind him. You open your mouth to curse at him when he rushes to say, “Wait, wait.” Hand on your waist, he holds you still.

You freeze under his palm. He’s barely used much force. It’s the simple touch itself that sends you into a trance. The memories of being pinned beneath him, or guided into grinding against his hips rush back to you. Breath hitching, you try to wipe the affection from your features. The searching look in his eyes tells you how bad of a job you’re doing.

“I could fix it myself, but not by myself,” he clarifies. “I just didn’t know how to get you here without making it seem like it’s a complete disaster. Be honest, (Y/N), if I told you I wanted you to sculpt with me you wouldn’t have shown up.”

Be honest. When the fuck have you ever lied to him? The question is tempting to ask, sitting right on the tip of your tongue actually, but you can already tell that you’ve made your annoyance known as concern swims in his eyes. He’s trying to find where he went wrong in his explanation. He’s never done that before. He never notices your discomfort during a fight, but always after the fact. That’s enough to have you consider his explanation, to consider the fact that maybe he has not changed completely, but he’s trying. Perhaps you should start trying too.

Besides, he’s not wrong. If he didn’t make it seem like it was irreversible, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation over or even thought about ditching your date. Chewing on your lip, you sigh and nod. “Fine, I’ll help you fix it.”

A relieved smile plays on his lips. He removes his hand from your waist, muttering a quiet apology then returns your jacket onto the chair. You set your clutch down on there as well, nowhere near his work, and follow him back to the sculpture. He sprays it down as you take another couple of sips from your hot chocolate.

“When is this due?” You ask as you set the mug down.

Taehyung’s gaze shakes. “At nine,” he reluctantly replies. He sets the spray bottle down. You stare at him in confusion.

The time is both seemingly vague and specific. You furrow your brows, blinking rapidly in hopes that you can reprocess the information for more clarity. When that doesn’t work, you ask, “Tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Thirteen hours? That’s all you two have to remold and detail a life-sized sculpture. This information alone would’ve had you running to help as well. Why didn’t he just tell you this? Why did he have to lie? No, nevermind his lies. You both have thirteen hours to remold the base, attach the head and arms, and add all the details on all four pieces. It may seem like a lot of time but you also have to let the clay sit for a few hours before firing. However, with a sculpture this large, it might need at least three days to dry. How did he expect to finish the rest on his own?

Nothing is adding up. You know Taehyung very well. You’ve shared sculpting classes countless times. His work comes first; always. He sketches and prepares months in advance for a project since the clay can crack or explode during its bake. How could he not have done the same thing here? He should’ve started this at least four months ago… oh.

Taehyung spares you a nervous glance. He can see the realization of his own reality in your eyes. You swallow thickly, knowing you should just pretend that you haven’t noticed anything. Still, you say, “Tae, we both know that’s not enough time. Even if we split the work, it still needs-”

“Don’t worry about that,” he mumbles. His hands smooth over every chunk of clay he reapplies. “Let’s just piece it all together, okay?”

There is a lot you have to force yourself to ignore in his words and tone. He mumbles orders, and expects you to follow. His voice is deep and cold. He gives you his back while he speaks. It’s but another pet peeve of his that makes you want to pull your own hair out. However, most of all, you have to force yourself to ignore how painful it is. Seeing him again, only an arm’s length away, crumbles your anger and hearing his voice reminds you that he still holds every bit of your heart. You have to blink your tears back at the realization. This idea reeked the moment you considered it. But, you can never stop yourself when it comes to him. A year of friendship and two of love; how can you forget all of that in four months?

Taehyung turns to you, his eyes trailing up from your hips to your chest where they linger. Flickering his gaze back up to yours, he offers a tight-lipped smile. You fail to find it in you to return it. He sighs. Hands by his side, voice heavy with sincerity, he says, “I won’t force you to stay, babe- (Y/N).” His slip up has him frozen in place as well. Clearing his throat, he continues, “I need to get this done and you’re the only other person I know who knows how I like it.”

The familiar pet name gives you pause, but the end of that sentence has you hot all over. Your eyes widen at the alternate implication of his words and you can’t help but choke on your next intake of air.

Taehyung’s expression mirrors yours. Face reddening, he’s quick to correct himself. “No, no, I just mean artistically.”

You cannot find the words to say something, anything to make this situation better. Lips parted, all you can voice are quiet croaks of uncertainty. His large eyes, wide with anxiety, watch you carefully. He’s clearly unsure of how else to soothe your discomfort. He goes to say something else but the words fall short. The scene has your skin crawling with shivers. Shaking your head, you walk around him to smooth out the clay he remolded.

“I’ll fix her waist. I think you should get started on the details,” you say, hoping his words can just fizzle away along with the awkward silence that has fallen over the both of you.

Taehyung takes a deep breath. His eyes remain trained on you for a moment, watching as you match the sculpture’s left side to her right. Then, he circles around you and makes his way to his work table.

Though you should be focused on your work, you still have one eye on Taehyung. The jumpsuit sits low on his hips, and his back is bare of any scratches. Your lasting desire to mark up the blank canvas of his back tightens your core. You can feel your black pants dampening at the thought alone. Your hand gently presses into the mold, smoothing out every piece you add.

With Sinatra’s calm voice circling around the room, you and Taehyung fall into a comfortable silence. The rhythm of your actions, the way you move around each other is like muscle memory. You can subconsciously anticipate the other’s next move and react accordingly. He hands you tools before you need to ask and you accept them without a second thought. It’s easy, comfortable, and so familiar that you almost forget he ruined your plans tonight.

Taking a step back, you wipe your wrist over your brow then assess your work. You’ve been trying to sculpt one of the figure’s breasts, adding clay and rounding out the mold. However, it seems like you’ve undershot a bit and made one mound a bit smaller than the other. You sigh and reach for more clay when Taehyung interjects.

“Leave it,” he says from his place beside you.

When did he step back too? He was just detailing one of the sculpture’s hands. “They’re uneven,” you point.

He smirks. “I like them that way.”

His eyes flicker to your chest again before meeting your gaze once more. You shouldn’t look into that gesture too much, but you do. He can’t say something like that, stare at your breasts suggestively and think you wouldn’t notice. Unless, he wants you to notice. You start to wonder how often he’s thought about your breasts and why he feels the need to incorporate them into his project.

While you remain standing in your place, Taehyung returns to his crouched position and continues his work. You can’t bring yourself to move just yet. You stare at the sculpture, at the curve of her stomach and dip of her waist. She’s full-figured and even has stretch marks on her hips, well the side that has not met the floor still has stretch marks. You need to add them on the other side. But, the shape of her body just looks all too familiar.

No, no, it can’t be. He didn’t sculpt your naked body entirely from memory. And why should he? You’re not a couple and he’s made it clear during those four months of silence that he doesn’t want anything to do with you either. No, this is merely just some consequence. You sigh and get back to work. Those thoughts completely boarded shut out of your mind.

“Were you having fun?” He suddenly asks, standing up to start detailing the sculpture’s breasts.

You glance up at him, about to ask what he means when you remember the date. “Oh,” you hum. You’re not sure how much to tell him, or if you should even entertain him with an answer at all. He’s obviously still affected by the break up if he let it get in the way of his project timeline. What was your date’s name anyway? Morgan, Mac, Mark- Mark! Yes, it was Mark something or maybe something Mark. Fuck, you can’t even remember his name. You’re not even sure where you met up for drinks.

Taehyung pauses his sculpting around the figure’s nipple. He chances a quick look at you, raising a brow. “That bad?” He teases with a playful smile.

His light-hearted tone shocks you out of your thoughts. Maybe you read the situation wrong. Maybe he is over you. Otherwise, why would he ask you about your date so casually, like you two were friends? Or maybe… he’s seeing someone else himself? Sumni did ask for your permission to date him. She was so kind and understanding in her questioning that you couldn’t refuse her. Even if it was a week ago, she would have already talked to him by now and they could’ve already gone on their own date. The sheer thought of Taehyung dating around makes your throat tighten and stomach ache.

“I didn’t stay long enough to make up my mind,” you reply, trying your best not to mumble. Your voice is small though, and tone shot by misery. A wave of hopelessness washes over you at how final everything between you and him feels again. “I don’t think he’s for me though.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgment or understanding? You don’t know. You can’t pull yourself out of your self pity long enough to decipher it. “Poor guy,” he mutters as he picks up where he left off on the sculpture’s breast.

You carve uneven lines on the figure’s hips, recreating some stretch marks like he had done to the other side. Raising your brows, you question, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs a single shoulder. “I just know what it’s like to lose someone as great as you,” he explains in a near whisper. “The poor guy is gonna lose his mind.”

Tears sting your eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t guilt you for leaving him, not when you both know that it’s just as much his fault as it is yours. Still, even in the midst of pain, the kindness laced in his words tugs the corners of your lips into a small smile. Is that what happened to him? Did this poor guy, this poor little sculptor lose his mind when he lost you?

You toss him a sidelong glance, whispering, “He’ll survive.”

“He can only pray to.”

What is this? What is he trying to say? So he regrets the way that things ended, perhaps even that they ended entirely. Does he think you don’t? Nothing can change how you feel for him. Nothing can hide how badly you wish you can still call him your own. But, he said it himself. He does not want you around, in such close proximity to him anymore. Two years into, what you thought was, a serious relationship and he does not want you living with him.

“I’ll grow tired of us,” he said. Or does he not remember? Did he forget how he promised he’d get you a key, or help you pack? Did he forget how high he got your hopes? Has the fear of getting bored of your company finally withered away?

What does it even matter now? You both said things you haven’t even attempted to take back. Not a single apology has been issued either. Whatever relationship you once had is gone. You can never get it back. Still, you don’t have the stomach to break it to him. You can’t destroy the last little bit of hope he has in you. You can’t find it in you to tell him that no amount of prayer will get you to willingly return to such a relationship.

“He hasn’t been in my company for too long to miss me. Actually, I’m worried he’s already grown tired of it,” you reply. Guilt immediately sheds your pettiness. You know you shouldn’t have said that. Though, he did egg you on. How could he have expected to bring up such a subject and think that you wouldn’t retaliate?

Taehyung tenses and shifts his jaw, giving the impression that he’s chewing gum, and turns to glare at you. From experience alone, you know very well that when Taehyung chews on his imaginary piece of gum, he’s either cocky, pissed or both. This time he has tears glassing over his eyes. Shame cringes your heart. You can’t bring yourself to look at him again. Getting even does not feel as dignifying as you thought it would. You cannot even find a shred of pleasure in seeing him so speechless.

Parting your lips, you try to soothe the sting of your words, only they all fall short. Every time you try to recollect them, they wither away. It’s almost like your mind is warning you from worsening the situation. But the silence is deafening. Sinatra's voice cannot even fill it. His disappointment is too loud; the shattering of his heart like an explosion. And your pain can never shut up. All you can hear is how miserable your soul is and how depressed your heart becomes upon every glance his way. It’s the soft look in his eyes, even when he’s glaring, and the little scrunch of his nose.

With a deep breath, you turn back to the sculpture to keep your hands busy. As you use the pad of your pinkie to smoothen out the stretch mark lines you’ve carved, you say, “We had a drink. That’s as far as we got.”

Taehyung clears his throat. His hands pick up where they left off around the nipple. “Had I known you were out, I wouldn’t have called,” he sighs.

You try not to scoff, particularly because he sounds surprisingly sincere. Sneaking a glance up at him from your squatting position on the floor, you try to search for his usual tell-tale signs. He always blinks one too many times in the same two minute span when he’s lying, that’s if he’ll even meet your gaze. He’s already looking at you when you begin to search his features. He holds your stare and you start to worry that you wrongfully cursed him before when you were convinced that he knew.

“You really didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. “Why would anyone tell me you’re going on a date?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Would you want to hear that I have been on one?”

“Have you?”

Internally cringing, you snap your attention back on the sculpture. The question simply slipped out. He must know that. Of course you’re curious about his love life since you’ve left it, but you don’t need him to know that. And even if he was prying into your date tonight, you still don’t feel comfortable with him knowing that you’ve been wondering about him too, worrying that he’s found the love of his life and forgotten all about you.

Taehyung chuckles. “Do you really want to know?”

Three? Four? Five? How many dates did he have to go on to be able to ask such a question? You hold your breath the moment you feel your next intake waver. Running your tongue between the gaps of your teeth, you stand up and begin detailing the left breast.

“I’m not going to beg you,” you grumble under your breath while sculpting the nipple. Your eyes shift from the one you're working on to the one he perfected, making sure they’re at least even.

“Never had a problem with that before.”

He does not mutter it. He does not whisper it. He chuckles through the statement, cockiness dripping from his tone. Shooting him a glare, you find his jaw moving, the imaginary gum returning. Taehyung smirks at you, eyes dancing over your features like he’s figured you all out.

You raise your brows at him, lips slightly parted by a little smile. “Once again, Taehyung, your memory has miserably failed you,” you start only to widen his grin.

“How so?”

“You’ve been on your knees far more times than I’ve been on mine. You’ve whined louder too.”

He leans in, wrist against his stomach as he lets out a hearty laugh. You feel a rush of your arousal pool at your core just from the simple sound. Face growing hot, you realize how much you’ve missed this, missed him. He always laughed with his whole body, clutching onto you when clutching on his stomach never granted him any stability. Sometimes he’d brace his teeth in a boxy smile and let out his deep chuckles that way. So endearing, so cute, Taehyung would always loop you in his laughing fit as well.

Biting on the sides of your cheeks, you keep yourself from joining in this time. “Why is that so funny?”

Taehyung shakes his head at you as his laughter dies down. With a smile still gracing his features, he replies, “You’re always begging for me. Oh, I remember once you were on the table and you won’t let go of me and until I, and I quote, ‘rammed into you with the force of a thousand waterfalls.’”

Shit. You remember that day all too clearly. Taehyung had been painting and you were somewhere in the kitchen sketching his hands from a distance since he would always tease you about that. Somehow you found out he’d been painting you nude from memory and wanted to help him out. You began stripping for him, inching closer with every piece of clothing you shed. He watched you draw closer to him, and there was something about the way his eyes drank you in that you could not shake. It just made you giddy all over, dripping for his love by the time you were fully naked and within his reach. You were so horny, you said anything to make sure he ruined you.

Avoiding his eye, you reluctantly reply, “I do not recall.”

That statement tips him off immediately. His endearing innocence darkens; you don’t even need to look over to witness it happen. You can feel it. You can feel his demeanour change. Taehyung sets whatever tool he’s using down and towers over you. Stilling in place, you let him graze the bridge of his nose in your hair.

“Do you want me to remind you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your ear, adding, “my muse?”

Knees all but trembling, you have to remind yourself to keep your eyes open. His warm breath fans over your skin, prickling goosebumps all over. His fingertips brush up the length of your spine, streaking your back with clay and leaving a chain of shiver in their wake. Then there’s that little pet name. Your soul shudders to hear it again while your core waters.

What does he even mean? How far is he willing to go to remind you how badly you wanted him?

Breath shaky, you gingerly meet his gaze. Noses brushing, you try to ignore how good he smells. His scent is always a cross between chalky clay and citrusy cherries. A whine threatens to slip out and you have to swallow thickly just to silence it. “You can try,” you whisper only to feel his hands on your hips.

The grey clay stains the hem of your black pants and a majority of your skin. Taehyung turns you towards him then presses himself against you. His semi-hard rubs against your stomach, making him groan. Seems like he’s falling apart faster than you are. Did he miss this too? Miss the way you smell, the way it feels to be near you again?

You rest your arms on his shoulders and he guides you around and back to his work table. It’s almost like a little dance, with the quiet music still playing in the background. Faces only a breath apart, the temptation to kiss him only grows. But giving in would only prove him right. After so many months, you cannot grant him this victory of being right, especially since he was the one in the wrong when you left.

When the back of your thighs meet the edge of the table, Taehyung shifts his hands down to your ass, gripping tightly and he lifts you up against him and onto the table. You have to choke back a moan just from the rough grip. Your lips brush against each other’s, but neither one of you is willing to bite the bullet first.

“Any of this familiar yet?” Taehyung asks. His voice is almost an octave deeper, saturated in lust and desire.

Smirking, you shake your head.

Taehyung tongues his cheek and cocks a brow. He leans back a bit, hands circling around your waist to rest on your thick thighs. His cocky grin widens as he pushes them further apart. One of his hands shifts up to your crotch, thumb grazing the seams. Face lighting up, Taehyung glances down at your crotch and brushes over it once more.

“No panites?” He questions with a chuckle. “This is looking more and more like that night then I thought it would.”

The confidence he oozes should annoy you, but you find yourself only spreading your legs further for him. Whenever he’s acting this egotistic, you cannot help but respond to it by giving yourself to him. This is a fact he knows well and uses to his advantage any time he’s ever felt like it.

You try to keep your wits about you, saying, “I wouldn’t know.”

Taehyung suddenly leans in. Your breath hitches at the realization that he’s swallowing his pride, that he’s finally going to kiss you. You’ve been dreaming about his lips for months, wondering how you’d be able to find someone else who just fits ever so perfectly against your lips. Eyes fluttering closed, lips in a faint pucker, you’ve inhaled deeply only to have him kiss your chin. He chuckles quietly against your skin, licking his way to your jawline all while leaving you breathless.

“You’re about to,” he growls.

As your body is in the midst of reacting, he somehow digs his nails into the seams of your pants and tears them apart. You gasp, shifting your hands from his shoulder to the edge of the table. You cannot help but stare down at the tear in amazement. Questions on how and why die in your throat when you find that Taehyung’s attention is not even on you anymore. He’s tightening his grip on your thighs and gazes down at your pussy. It pulses under his gaze, much to his own amazement.

Squatting down, he licks his lips at this new angle. “Well, fuck,” he whispers. “How long have you needed me?”

Four months, you wish you had the courage to say. Instead you breathlessly reply, “I’m not sure this is what happened that night.”

“How would you know? I thought you didn’t remember.”

He’s only teasing but his tone is accusatory. You already know it’s because you’ve refused to answer his previous question. And your decision to talk back only adds to his shift in demeanour. Once cheeky, his features darken into something closer to vexation. You’ve pushed the wrong buttons it would seem.

Narrowing his eyes, he orders, “Tell me, my muse. Tell me how long you’ve been needing me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Pressing your lips together in a fine line, you refuse to make another sound, let alone utter another word. You’ll be damned if you have to admit that you regret walking away, that you cannot even remember the details of your date because all you could think about was everything he would do differently. Having to admit that for the last four months all you’ve been able to do is touch yourself to the thought of him or cry wouldn’t just be motifying but shameful and pathetic.

With a slow nod, Taehyung sighs. You think this is it. He’s ripped your pants apart, looked at every inch of your barest part, and teased you all for nothing. You’d maybe ask to borrow some pants, and he might give you some. But, other than that, nothing would’ve come from this interaction. The flirty comments and knowing looks would disappear with your relationship, this you feel you are sure of.

Then, he plays against your expectations; something you should have expected. Just when you’re about to bring your legs together, Taehyung spreads them apart further and shoves his face between them. He cannot use his hands there since they are covered in clay and, it seems, he also refuses to use his tongue. You cannot hold back the moans that pour out of you with every ministration. Merely smearing his face into your heat, Taehyung teases your clit. The bridge of his nose trails between your folds, lips pressing wet kisses to your tightening hole. From left to right, he shakes his face against your pussy.

You buck your hips against his lips, lacking shame and restraint. “Tae,” you moan, voice breaking.

Taehyung pulls away. Heaving and eyes half-lidded, he smirks up at you. He’s drenched in your arousal, looking like the cat who got the cream. “How long?” He mewls.

“Gimme your tongue,” you whine.

Taehyung mockly pouts up at you. He always looks prettiest on his knees, pretending to be in charge from such a degrading position. “Would you tell me then, babe?”

Your hips inadvertently roll at the pet name. You love it when he babies you like that, when he makes you feel so precious and fragile even though you both know you can rule over anything you want. Hesitantly, you nod. He raises a brow, waiting for verbal confirmation that you’ll tell him once he gives you his tongue.

With a little shrug of a single shoulder, you reply, “Why don’t you give it a try, TaeTae.”

His left eye twitches. You know exactly how that name affects him. His anger and powerful demeanor tremble when you dwell on him like that. He doesn’t need to tell you that he’s suddenly yours to overtake; his large eyes do the trick.

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Taehyung cleans his mouth from you. One little taste and his pupils expand, blown by lust and hunger. You don’t have to waste anymore time convincing him that you’d answer his question if he goes down on you. Your taste seems to be enough of a factor, in itself. He dips his head back in, tongue out this time. The tip pushes through your hole, lapping up your pooling juices. Leaning back on your hands, you gasp a loud moan. He knows his way around so well. One flick up, and your toes are curling. No amount of time apart has disturbed his memory of you. This may have been something you noticed while sculpting but now you can feel it. Tongue in and out, warm and wet, Taehyung explores your pussy like it’s his first time, only he knows everything about it.

You want to tangle your fingers in his hair, to see how the long strands feel in your hand, but they’re covered in clay too. And you know from experience just how hard it is to get clay out of hair. Once it completely dries, it almost seems like the only other option is to cut it all out. So, instead, you just dig your nails into the table, engraving your presence in the wood.

Rolling your hips into his face, you cry out your pleasure. Your legs are shaking, squeezing around his face, but he can’t seem to care any less. In fact, judging by his groans and growls, he seems to love the suffocation. He even pushes your legs further against his cheeks. Freezing in place, Taehyung only allows his tongue to continue to swirl around your pussy. His fingers harshly press into your thighs, sure to leave bruises, but you don’t care. Having him mark you up just like when you were together, is enough to make your eyes roll back.

You’re so, so close. Pussy clenching, his tongue still pushes its way in. He’s determined to see you through, to have you unfold right in his hands so hard that he still won’t breathe. And though you start to worry a bit, you cannot really pay attention to anything else besides the pleasure.

“Oh, Tae,” you cry. Voice breathy and high-pitched, it’s only a matter of time before-

It hits you hard, fast, and completely off guard. You have felt it growing and knotting in the pit of your stomach, but have no idea it would rush at you this harshly that you completely fall back on the table. Body convulsing, you scream and cream all over his tongue, mouth, and chin. His entire face will smell like you for days.

Taehyung forces your tightening legs apart, gasping for air. Gazing up at you, he sticks his tongue out and against your clit. He’s determined to help you ride out your high and nods his head up and down. You watch him through blurry vision, shamelessly rocking your hips up to meet him halfway. Or, at least you try to. Soon, you become all too sensitive to even hold his gaze, let alone grind against his tongue.

You fight against his hold on your legs, whining loudly. “Okay, okay,” you gasp as you try to seat yourself up.

He doesn’t care. That once yielding look in his eyes flashes into a demanding one. Seeing you so helpless under him shocks him with power once again. “One more time,” he pants against your heat.

“TaeTae,” you mewl, attempting to manipulate your way out of this overstimulated feast.

However, the use of the name this time, only spurs him on. He knows what you’re trying to do and doesn’t at all find it amusing. This time when he repeats his words, he growls, “One more time!”

Lips suctioning around your clit, he harshly sucks. Slurping and swallowing everything you have to offer, Taehyung holds your gaze. You’re a trembling mess. Tears falling freely down your face, you curse him three times over and buck your hips against his mouth. He finds the entire sight so humorous, he can’t help but smirk.

You’re still his little toy, a play thing for him to fool around with and test out some kinks on. The realization should make you curse him again and again, but you can only play into it. Pouting and mewling, you’ve fully sold yourself out just so Taehyung is well fed with your juices.

This is the peak of his games, you think. This is as far as he will go and you expect that you’ll cum in another minute or so. But then his teeth graze your clit once, twice, three times. You come undone within seconds. Arching your back, you let out the neediest cry you’ve ever heard and pathetically cum against his chin. The shudders and shivers of your body are beyond your control, as is your broken voice and any lasting grip you thought you had on reality.

As if biting and sucking your clit isn’t mindbreaking enough, Taehyung dips his tongue back in you to sneak another taste. “Taehyung, please,” you beg. “Please!”

He finally lets up, removing his face from your sopping heat and releasing his hold on your legs. You instantly bring them together and hug them into your chest. Heaving and shedding your last few tears, you try to recompose yourself and the silent atmosphere you once shared while sculpting.

“Strange,” he starts, returning to his feet. He takes his hands in yours, slowly unwrapping the hug you’ve cocooned yourself in. “It sounds a lot like that night. But, that’s not at all what I was doing then to make you this needy.”

To anyone else, you would've looked fucked out and completely ruined. But Taehyung knows that’s not at all the case. He has tested your stamina enough to know that you can most likely go for another round or two. Pulling your legs apart, he stands between them then helps sit you back up.

Faces inches away, you exchange breaths. “How long have you been this needy, my muse?” He asks again.

He really does smell like you. His cheeks, nose, chin, and lips are smeared with your cum. It doesn’t even look like he was feasting. It almost looks like he just wanted to cover his face with your juices. Gulping, you consider his question. You did insinuate that you’d answer the question if he gave you his tongue. And, holy fuck, did he give it to you. However, an insinuation is not a promise. He made that clear during your last argument.

“I don’t remember promising anything,” you whisper in a light pant.

The pain in his eyes cannot be neither mistaken nor missed. Echoing his words all these months later, surely recalls suppressed emotions of misery and betrayal for the both of you. He sneers a smirk, glaring at your lips. “Your memory has failed you,” he hisses. Gripping onto your hips, marking you there with bruises as well, he adds, “But, I won’t.”

“Not again, anyway.��

You sound colder than he does which causes him to hesitate for a moment. His hands fall by his sides as he searches your face for some sort of confirmation to continue. He almost seems like he’s not sure if he really wants to pick up where he left off too, seeing that you’re still upset with him. The guilt of seeing him so fragile and wounded eats away the majority of your anger. But, if he thinks he’s the only one struggling to make sense of this break up, he’s wrong.

Right now, the only way you can think of showing that to him is by first displaying your eagerness to continue in this sexual stroll down memory lane. You lean forward, brushing the tip of your nose against his, and reach down to his crotch. The dent in his jumpsuit throbs in your hand. His hard cock all but pulses under your palm as you rub at it. His breath hitches. You then untie the sleeves of his jumpsuit and watch carefully as his cock comes back into view. Fuck, you’ve forgotten just how pretty it is when it’s all pink tipped and desperate to be pumped. He shifts a bit, you assume to step out of the jumpsuit, and resettles his hands back on your waist.

Not another moment of uncertainty stands between you anymore. Swallowing his pride, Taehyung kisses you first. Lips on lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue has you moaning already. He seems to take this as a sign to let himself go as well. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table and rolls his hips into yours. The length of his dick rubs between your folds, but he doesn’t enter. Not yet. He simply teases the idea of entering, of ruining you.

But, you’re too overstimulated to enjoy it in its entirety. Your legs resume their little shudders at the tiniest bit of friction when his cock just happens to brush against your clit. Taehyung, upon noticing this, makes sure to touch it with every new grind against you. He smirks when you whimper into his mouth and chuckles a bit when you break the kiss to whine his name.

“What is it, baby,” he coos. He grounds his hips harder into yours, erupting moans from the both of you. “Ah, shit, I could just cum like this,” he hisses as his mouth hovers over yours.

A little smirk tugs on your lips at his words. Yes, you may be helplessly falling apart with every passing second. However, watching him come undone from the impression of your pussy against his cock, is a rather prideful moment. You tilt your head and begin peppering his chin and cheeks with open mouthed kisses, staining his face with your saliva now as well as your cum.

“Then, just cum, TaeTae,” you whine.

Perhaps if you didn’t sound so desperate, he probably would’ve switched back into his own submissive state. But, it’s the squeal in your voice and mischief in your tone that only drives him further down his power trip. He pulls away a bit, holding your horny gaze with an unimpressed one of his own. He realigns his hips as his jaw shifts. He’s pretending to chew gum again. Holy shit, he’s going to fuck you senseless.

He does not push into you though. Instead, he pulls you onto him by the deadly grip he has on your hips. You stare up at him as a loud cry escapes you with every inch that stretches your walls. Taehyung looks back with very little remorse in his eyes. The sight of you so small in his arms, whipped for his cock, makes his tip twitch a bit. But he is not immune to the action of entering you, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I can’t believe I forgot how tight you were,” he whispers, voice breaking.

And you thought you could never forget how big he is, but here you are. Eyes rolling back, you relish in his size like it the first time. “Big,” you mewl as he bottoms out. “Tae, you’re so big.” You sound just as broken as he does.

He cannot even find it in him to be cocky about it. He hears the realization in your voice. He knows you’ve forgotten too. A flash of pain twinkles in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and whisper. “Remind me, Taehyung.” His brows quirk up and you add, “Remind me how good you make me feel. And I’ll remind you the same.”

Taehyung presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. Then, his hips snap in action. Holding you close, he starts hard and fast. He’s naked and growling into your ear with every thrust. You’re clothed and whining with every rumble of his chest and jerk of his hips. You didn’t even have to beg to bring out such a feral side of him. Could it be that he’s looking for the same thing you are? A lost lover?

Clay smeared fingers pressing into his skin, you push away that thought and scratch at his back. That once blank canvas of muscle and skin will now be lined with your lov- lust. This is just lust. You have to remind yourself of this fact every time he pushes into you.

He quietly hisses with each streak until he pauses his thrusts. You pout, leaning back a bit to ask if anything is wrong. But before you can even part your lips, Taehyung is readjusting his grip from your hips to your tube top.

“You’re a fucking slut to dress like this for him,” he growls. Then, in one swift motion, he pulls it down. You gasp as your breasts spill out, not out of exposure, but simply shock. He grips onto the rolled down top and smirks. “They’re a little uneven,” he points out. “But, I like that about them. Does he too? Does he get to see you like this, slut?”

You’ve got it wrong. It’s not your use of his nickname that has sent him spiralling into a pit of dominance, but rather that you went out to see another man. Is that why he ripped your pants apart? He’s destroying the outfit he thinks you wore for somebody else. Not only that, but his words only confirm that he is indeed sculpting you. All from memory, Taehyung has been molding your naked body down to the precise imperfection of your slightly uneven breasts.

And while you’re still trying to make sense of it all, he slaps one of them causing you to moan and throw your head back. Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin and drags your head back down to meet his gaze. “Answer me,” he seethes. “How much of you does he have?”

“None!” You shout. Your breathing is uneven, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat to continue, “I don’t even remember his name; he’s irrelevant.”

Taehyung circles his hips around yours, clearly pleased with your reply. But he does not pick up where he left off. “You haven’t been able to remember a lot tonight. Is that all irrelevant to you too?”

The shake of your head is reactive. You barely even had to think about it. This act of pretending that you don’t feel anything for him anymore has clearly fallen. “That’s not it, Taehyung,” you whine, hooking a leg around his waist. He wipes the tears streaming down your face as you continue, “I just didn’t want to remember us.”

Licking his lips, Taehyung slowly pulls out and eases himself back in. You tremble, watery eyes twitching in bliss. “Tell me how long you’ve been needy, baby,” he whispers.

“Have I not said enough already?”

You clutch onto his biceps and buck your hips up to meet his. He gasps, unable to hide his smile. You can tell he wants to finish this conversation but, with the way your walls are tightening around him, he doesn’t seem like he’s able to. One look in his eyes and you can tell he’s consumed by the pleasure all too much to reply.

Taehyung lets one hand fall to his side when he starts to pick up his pace. You shift one of your hands to his shoulders while the other holds onto the table’s edge. He holds you by the grip he has on your rolled tube top and smacks his hips against yours. It’s almost as if he’s riding a horse with the way he’s fucking you. And if you don’t whine loud enough, he’d slap each of your tits and force those screams out of you, growling, “You can do better than that.”

Removing your hands off him and back to the table, you accidentally rest your hand on one of his palettes. You gasp, looking over to find your hand smeared with blue and yellow hues. Taehyung laughs and rams into you faster. “You’re just making a mess wherever you go, hmm?” he teases.

You pout. He’s having too much fun making a mockery of you. Granted, you’re loving the attention, the way he’s fucking you into submission and realization, but you cannot let all this go to his head too much. As he smacks your breasts once more, nipples a little raw as they sting, you wipe your hand on him, down from his cheek to his collarbone.

He gasps, but his hips never stutter. Before you can even register his actions, Taehyung readjusts his grip from your top to your breasts and shoves his face between them. He transfers the swirl of dark blue and gold all over you as he fucks you as senseless as you predicted.

And as he playfully punishes you, blowing raspberries into your chest, you find yourself missing this, missing him. How could you have forgotten he likes to get playful, that he can switch between his two demeanours so seamlessly? He giggles when he pushes your breast into his face and further stains them with paint.

“The only one making a mess is you,” you rush to whine as your impending orgasm nears.

Dipping your hand in more paint, you rub the colours on his back and shoulders. You’re going to colour him yours if this is the last thing the two of you do together. Paint on his skin, in his hair, all over him, you’re going to make your impression here last through all the moans and whines and lewd slouches of your sensitive wetness around him.

Taehyung kisses his way up to your lips. He slips his tongue in once he reaches them and rolls his hips into you particularly harder than before. He can feel that he’s got you trailing the edge of your high. Thrust upwards, Taehyung reaches your most sensitive place. Every ram into it makes you shudder, toes curling and moans pouring into his mouth. One of his hands shifts up to your breast, massaging the smeared paint in, while the other holds your hips in place.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whines against your lips. “Come back to me.”

He can’t do this. He can’t beg you to come back with his dick shoved so deep in you like this. You’re so fucking close and he knows this. He can feel every inch of you tighten around him and desperate to be released. It’s cruel of him to manipulate you like this, to kiss you like he’s lost in the moment when he’s really just lost in you.

Kissing his way to your ear, Taehyung feels your pussy quiver. He smirks, thrusting hard enough to move the table back, and growls in your ear, “Come back to me, my muse. Cum.”

You fall back onto the table, body a total shaking shock as your orgasm washes over every inch of you. With one hand trembling over your lips, your other grabs onto one of your tits in an effort to brace yourself from the rush of ecstasy that overcomes you. The moans and whines that leave you are no exception to your convulsing state. Their breathless, broken, and blaring as you practically scream out in bliss.

Taehyung enjoys the show, watching you forget how to breathe from his place between your legs. He’s still going fast and hard, groaning when he feels you coat his cock in your cum. Mesmerized by the sight of your unheld breast bouncing with each of his thrust, he slaps it. You squeal at the sting.

And as you try to look at him, still riding out your orgasm, Taehyung’s cock twitches only to paint your inner walls with his missed affections. He falls forward, over you, burying his face between your tits again. You push them into his face and shake them against his cheeks, hearing him growl over your heart.

At some point, he stops thrusting and opts to circling his hips into yours. It’s all the same to you. Your legs continue to shake and your heart still races. Drenched in sweat, paint, and clay, you two lie there for a second longer. Even while growing limp, Taehyung feels so full in you.

He peels himself off you. His face, glistening in paint, looks like Van Gogh’s starry night, his eyes being the sparkling stars. He smirks down at you before trailing his gaze lower. That smile falls with every part of you he realizes he has ruined. Your chest is exposed and covered in colours, shirt non existent, pants clay stained and torn straight down the middle, and pussy a sopping mess of your mixed cum when he pulls out.

“I did make a mess,” he pants.

One step back, then two, then three. He distances himself from you as if ashamed of his work. You slowly sit up and cross your legs. Already, they feel strained and sore. But, they’re the least of your worries. It's the way that Taehyung winces at the sight of you, that has your heart somersaulting into your stomach. You swallow thickly between heaving pants and watch him carefully. He’s completely bare and looks even more broke than you do. His gaze looks vague and face sickly. Shaking his head, Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. He looks so annoyed with himself, he cannot even find it in him to laugh at the fact that he only got more paint in his hair.

Crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself up a bit, you say, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He blinks repeatedly, snapping his attention back up at you. “Why aren’t you disturbed by this?” He questions, voice all but breaking.

Your eyes scan up and down his frame before your brows knit together in confusion. Is he referring to his naked body, or that the two of you just came to the thought of dating each other again? Still, why is either of those things worth being disturbed over? A naked Taehyung post sex has never been a bad sight and, though things did end horribly, the thought of being with him again doesn’t seem so bad now. Did he not mean it when he asked you to come back? Was it just something to get off to? Are you just something to get off to?

“What?” You whisper now that your anxious train of thought has robbed your voice.

“Aren’t you dating?” He clarifies. “That poor guy. I can’t believe I just let us do that.”

You’ve never seen him this distressed. He walks back to you, just to grab his jumpsuit and briefs. He can’t even bear to look at you as you stare back at him in complete confusion. What does he think happened here? That you cheated? Clenching your jaw, you can't believe that he could think that low of you. Then again, you never did blatantly say that it was your first date since the break up. In fact, now that you think about it, you did make it seem like you were in a relationship with someone else.

Taehyung hastily gets dressed as you try to hop off the table without falling on your face from how weak your legs are after such a fucking. “Tae,” you start only to have him walk away. With a sigh, you call after him. He ignores you.

What the hell are you supposed to do now? You sure as hell can’t follow him with your legs so sore and he doesn’t seem to want to talk to you. And even if you could walk, your clothes are ruined and it would take a while for an uber to get here with all the snow coming down out there. The distant spray of the shower directs your attention to the hallway Taehyung escaped down to get away from you. Great, he’s showering and left you here to figure this all out yourself.

Taking a seat on the floor, you decide to give your legs a moment to rest before ordering yourself an uber and hoping that this night ends soon. You should’ve listened to your gut and rejected his call. You shouldn’t have agreed to this, or come here, or let him remind you just how much you miss and love him. All you ever wanted was- is him. If it haven’t been for this whole stupid issue about moving in, you’d still have him.

But, no. You had to force him into a step he wasn’t ready for. You lost him then and you came back to watch yourself lose him again. Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even explain yourself to the poor guy that was sitting across from you at Rollos. Yes, Rollos; that’s where you went for drinks. Wow, your memory really hasn’t served you well tonight. You hope you forget this tomorrow. You hope you'll be able to forget how pathetic you feel, how hurt he sounds, and how you lost him all over again.

“Get up,” Taehyung orders. His voice is rough, like he had been sobbing.

Looking over to him, you find that could’ve actually been the case. His face is tear streaked now as well as paint smeared. He stands a good few feet away from you, glaring down at your woefully ruined frame. “Taehyung, I’m not-”

He doesn’t seem to want to hear any of it. “Get up,” he repeats. “Go shower. I have some clothes for you to wear then I’m taking you home.”

“Tae, just liste-”

“Delete my number. We never talk about this again. And if you’re at all like the person I loved, you’d tell him the truth.”

Is he seriously judging you right now? You’ve barely even had a chance to explain yourself. He really doesn’t want to listen to anything you have to say, cutting you off like you’re less than him. You cannot help but scoff at him and his words.

Taehyung sighs. “Just please get up, (Y/N).”

“I’m not dating anyone.”

His superiority falls. The life returns to his face as he approaches you but you recoil into yourself the moment he steps forward. Pausing, he tilts his head at you. “What is it?”

What is it? This man is going to be the death of you. “You just shamed me for something that wasn’t true, Taehyung!” You shout.

“I thought you were cheating with me!”

You use the table to help yourself up and dryly chuckle. “Ha, yeah because lying is such a normal thing to do, right? I’m as twisted as you, Taehyung.”

“I lied because I knew saying no would hurt you. Why can’t you see that I was just looking out for you?”

That one sentence makes you freeze in place. Is he really that fucking dense? He can’t seriously believe that looking out for someone you love involves lying. Slowly turning to face him, you don't even make an effort to hide your tears anymore. “You were looking out for yourself and you know it!”

“I just didn’t-”

“Want to grow tired of me.” You finish for him in a mocking tone.

Taehyung huffs, shaking his head. “That’s not what I was going to say. Would you just let me finish?”

You’re done with this stupid conversation. All you want to do is go home and get as far away as possible from him and the way he smells and the fact that even though you hate him so much right now, you want him to come and hug you and tell you everything is going to be okay. But, he’s just so annoying. And you can’t bear to look at him anymore with that cold glare consistently being directed towards you. You’ll wait outside for the uber. Hell, you’ll just walk back to your apartment. Anything to get out of here and away from him.

In an attempt to follow through, you try to make your way towards the door, but your legs almost instantly give out.

“Jesus, babe,” Taehyung hisses, rushing to your side.

It’s not even just the fact that you’re sore but your ripped pants are starting to rub up against your cum leaking pussy. You whine a bit and try to shake him off in order to jump back onto the table. But, you’re thankful he stays by your side because you definitely cannot get up there alone with your lacking upper body strength.

His hands linger on your thighs, softening eyes locked on yours. A hint of a smirk plays on his lips before he says, “I remember doing this to you often.”

Yes, leaving you limping around the apartment was his favourite pastimes. He liked to watch you struggle to walk after every intimate moment. In fact, he always felt like he didn’t do his job right if you’re not limping. He’d go ten times rougher the next time around and then cuddle you to his chest, cooing reassurances in your ear. Was it bad that you wanted that all the time? That you wanted to sleep and wake up in the same bed he does everyday?

Slow tears roll down your face as you take his hand art stained in yours. “It was my first date since our break up,” you confess. “Sumni asked for your number… and for permission to go out with you. I just felt a little hurt that you were moving on.”

“She called.”

Your heart has shattered too many times tonight to even react to his words, but you can feel your soul shudder. She called. And did he answer? Did he have a drink with her too? You want to ask but your pride swallows your questions whole. All you can bring yourself to say is, “She’s a nice girl.”

He nods. Squeezing your hand, Taehyung wraps his arm loosely around your waist and stands in front of you. “I told her I wasn’t really ready to see anyone else yet,” he tells you, pressing himself against you.

The gesture is not at all sexual and you do not interpret it as such. Rather, it is tender and comforting. He releases his hold on your hand to wipe your tears, letting his own fall. Licking his lips, he whispers, “What’s his name?”

You shrug.

“Come on,” he half-heartedly nudges your legs. “Tell me.”

Does he think you’re trying to spare his feelings? Meeting his gaze, you can’t help but smile. He looks so cute, so precious in front of you. Playing with his hand, your fingers looping around his, you reply, “I don’t remember. I only spoke to him for half an hour or something.”

He cannot hide his smile, but avoids your gaze. Even still, you can see the relief within them. He seems to be pleased that you’re just as miserable as he is, pining after someone you cannot have any more.

“Is that why you came over?”

You shake your head before you can even think the action through. And the words leave your lips just the same, “I just missed you.”

“I really missed you too,” he croaks, rushing to say the words like he can’t believe them himself. “God, I’ve just wanted you back for so long.”

He’s all but sobbing in front of you. Parting your lips, you’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have you, not yet anyways. The fact is that he still lied, and has continued to lie to manipulate you. This cannot be forgiven so easily. You love and miss him dearly, but surely you cannot just take him back without discussing the cause of your break up first.

But then, Taehyung burrows his face into the crook of your neck and lets himself fall apart. Hugging you close, he cries into your skin. You cannot hold back the sob that tears through your throat just from the mere sound of his choked breaths and wet tears against you.

“I’m so sorry,” he cries as you cradle his head. “I’m sorry.”

The broken tone of his voice is enough to make you whimper into his hair. He sounds so fragile. This break up, you realize, has torn him inside out too. Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, you try to console both of your fears. But every sob trembles your courage and every drop of his tears makes you recoil in guilt and shame. How could you have done this to him, to your relationship?

He shudders a breath as he pulls away. Red in the face, wet streaks staining his painted cheeks, he cups his hands under your jaw and says, “Look, you can move in right now, okay? Alright? I’ll get your things tomorrow. I’ll give you Jungkook’s key. He only comes here to steal our food anyways.” Just stay, please (Y/N).”

His voice is shaky and tone all but heartbreaking as he chuckles at his own little joke. The desperation is real and hard to deny. You cannot even open your mouth to even voice your reservations about dating again. Clutching onto his jumpsuit, you try to revert your gaze to your lap in hopes to find your courage and tell him that you need to talk first. Only, Taehyung dips his head low to catch your eyes again. He’s determined to have you stay. And your silence only provokes more tears.

“I promise I’ll never tell another lie,” he sobs. “I promise I’ll never let my worries get in between us again. Please, baby, just please stay. Say that you’ll stay.”

You cannot watch this for another moment longer. There’s lots you still have left to discuss, like why he’s so worried about growing tired of you, and why he felt the need to lie in the first place. But his promise to never do it again is enough for now. And you just can’t sit here watching him cry any longer. You pull him towards you, pepper his cheeks with gentle kisses then cradle his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tae,” you mutter into his hair. “Mostly because I can’t.”

Your attempt at a joke causes him to choke out a chuckle. He showers the crook of your neck with wet kisses, muttering into your skin, “I love you.”

Rapturing in a relieved frenzy, your nerves dance within your bloodstream and repair your ruptured heart. You let out a deep breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “I love you too,” you cry.

The last four months haven’t granted you a shred of peace. You’ve lived and re-lived that argument over and over again, praying you can just go back and fix it all there and then. But, maybe… maybe it all needed to fall apart to fall back into place. Maybe it needed to rupture to rapture.

tags: @miinoongi, @jenotation, @allannahmalik, @taeshuworld

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#bangtanfairygarden #btsguild #networkbangtan #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #winterbearnet #vantenet #btswritersclub #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #btsgoldnet #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung smut #bts smut

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1ddotdhq · 3 years

Text

🪄Tues 8 Dec ‘20🎄

Calling all GRYFFINDORS! Well, no, *I’m* not, Liam is! He’s teamed up with the Wizarding World of Harry Potter to celebrate Christmas: It’s an interactive Hogwarts chatting app that lets you decorate the castle for Christmas while interacting with friends (Zayn?) and family (Zayn???). You send messages via floating candles, and Liam sent one to Bear, saying “I hope you get everything you want for Christmas”. He ALSO sent a candle to Abby Roberts (“Hey Abby, Merry Chrstmas to you! Looking forward to seeing what crazy ideas we can cook up in 2021, I’ll see you on Tik Tok!”) and one for US, if we can solve his clue (spoiler alert: we did and liam said “Thank you so much for all the support this year, it’s not been the easiest year for any of us and I’m thankful every day to all of my fans...Thanks for showing up as you always have been, even when we’ve not been able to be together”). Damn, the Harry Potter world is TRULY picking off One Direction members one by one to do their promo, huh? First Zayn and now Liam, maybe next will be Niall to reignite the always heated is-he-Hufflepuff-or-Slytherin debate.. Or, maybe Liam-as-Harry, as he once again brought that voice out in this morning’s Capital Breakfast show, where Roman showed off how much Liam’s impression of H has improved since they’ve become (better) friends. Other standout moments: he talked about the Jingle Bell Ball and he spilled some tea about Stormzy and Aitch (another rapper) and a bottle of liquor (Stormzy jokingly stole the bottle from Aitch and Liam got to see the fallout)! Finally, this morning’s alarm DID feature Liam, and he asked for everyone’s highlight of 2020 (drop your answer below!!). Liam’s highlight was “Roman Exotic” (“I’m assuming your talking about my impression of Joe Exotic,” Roman said, “as opposed to that thing that we do when it’s just you and I and I dress up…” guys. GUYS!! You CAN’T leave it at that!). The rest of the alarm was Roman doing silly voices, and he warns us to stay away from any Carols who might want to steal our tigers.

Niall came on twitter to...tell us that he was not going to be on twitter (or any social media) very much anymore, but he wanted to tell us that he missed us and can’t wait to see us (whenever that may be) and that his screentime is “down a lot”. Louis was NOT on twitter, but his team dropped some new merch: a wavey-Walls patterned jumper with the picture of Louis crouching on the stage as the background. Okay, so who wants to buy me one for Christmas?? Billboard also has a list of virtual concerts to attend this holiday season, and Louis’ veep show (4 days!!!!) and Harry’s Jingle Ball performance (2 days!!!) both made the list, of course they did, they’re gonna be phenomenal! And speaking of phenomenal Harry content, Dave Meyers said of the Adore You video that he had the idea of a story about someone in a fishing town who had a relationship with a fish for a long time, that Harry came to him saying he wanted to do “something about optimism” and he combined the two to come up with the Eroda story. He said he's happy to have been a part of moving the cycle of Harry's identity forward. And what a lovely step forward it was! Cam also talked about working with Harry and how she felt the pressure to “execute the vision of Harry Styles” for the song he gave her (Changes! Have I gushed about it enough?? If not, I’m so sorry, please know that I’ve been playing it on loop since it dropped). Anywho, she says she managed to do it (of course!) and that if he had NOT liked her version of the song, she wouldn’t have put it on the album (“that would not be the thing to do”).

Meanwhile twarries trended “ohwaititwasharry” all day to prove... that Louis is closer to Harry than to Eleanor? Well, Eleanor was lunching at the Spaniards today, so technically SHE might have been closer to Harry today! And Lou Teasdale commented on larries, complaining that, among other crazy wrong headed ideas, “they believe that... the fake girlfriends are a ploy to cover it up." Yeah I mean...imagine that.

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thatesqcrush · 3 years

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Voire Dire, Pt. 2

Rafael Barba x Reader. Warnings: heavy kissing/touching, some language. WC: 4,072. Episode References: 19x13 & 22x04.

A certified workaholic, Rafael had little to no time for any kind of romantic relationships. His last one, with Yelina, years prior, ended badly. It was during that relationship he had expressed deep feelings and she rebuked him, using him as a stepping stone to his former friend, Alex Muñoz. That was not to say he was celibate; he had needs - desires; and he bid his time with men and women who also exhibited similar interests. They warmed the bed, but never the heart. It was just easier to focus on work - work required no emotion.

Rafael found his mind wandering as the cab took him home. He was drawn to you the moment he stepped through the 8th floor doors where all the junior ADAs were working. He recalled when he sat in a similar room, in Brooklyn, before he made his way up the ladder. Things were so much easier then, even if he didn't recognize it at the time. The world was an old movie: all black and white and it was high noon. He was Gary Cooper and absolutely sure absolutely who were the good guys, who were the bad guys.

The kiss replayed in his mind like an endless looping device. You had bright, lush lips that he was pretty sure were designed to drive anyone of any orientation mad. When you had kissed him, it certainly took him by surprise - a wonderful surprise. He allowed himself to relish in the taste of your kiss - the invitation you gave when you moaned and opened your mouth more, so he could slide his tongue into your mouth.

For the briefest of moments, he ignored the rational part of his brain. All cares were thrown into the wind. And then his moral compass, which was spinning and spinning and spinning, came to a sudden stop as it dawned on him that you had been drinking.

The kiss - was an impulse born out of your drunken stupor. He hadn’t missed however, the look of disappointment on your face when he broke the kiss and stated he should not have done that.

When he finally made it back to his apartment, he found himself unable to wind down. The mind of the prosecutor now turned defense lawyer, was racing with a million thoughts at once. Despite the busyness of his mind, there was one thing that he was sure of.

Kissing you was tantalizing. And he wanted to do it again.

He changed into burgundy sweatpants and his old ratted Harvard shirt and poured himself a night cap. He was certain your email was like his when he was there: first name (dot) last name (at) manhattanda (dot) org. Ever the perfectionist, he opened his email and looked up the D.A. 's office's website. Sure enough, there was your contact information (and he was right about your email).

The plan seemed simple enough: first, apologize once more for doing anything without your explicit consent; second: ask for a do-over but he didn’t want you to feel any kind of pressure. Nor did he expect you to acquiesce - and that if he did indeed overreach, it was noted and he would keep things completely professional.

He hovered over the send button for longer than he would have anticipated. Finishing his drink, he took a deep breath and hit send. And then went to bed feeling antsy - like a child the night before their birthday.

The sun shone brightly the next morning, filtering through the partially open shades. Rafael groaned as he stretched, with his back and shoulders making a cracking sound as the bubbles burst in the synovial fluid around his joints. It was simultaneously satisfying and a reminder of his age.

The coffee maker beeped, signaling it was done brewing. Rafael made way to the bathroom to take care of his morning ablutions. He helped himself to coffee and then sat back in bed to read the paper on his iPad and get caught up on the latest happenings while he was asleep.

For a moment, he forgot about his email to you. He opened his inbox, mentally gearing himself for an email from you rebuking him, or worse, no response at all.

His normally steel stomach flipped when he saw there was an email.

Rafael, you have nothing to apologize for. I would love a do-over. Name the place/time, and I’ll meet you. My phone # is 718-371-5952. -Y/N

Rafael looked at the timestamp on the reply. You were up early. He scratched his beard and wondered if it was too early to text.

‘It’s too early to text Rafael, coño.’ He chastised himself. ‘Es muy temprano; después. Ya no eres un hombre joven; necesitas relajarte.

You were distracted at work. You couldn’t focus one bit. You tried to immerse yourself with work, but you were anxious. You kept checking your phone to see if Rafael had texted you. Groaning, you took your phone and threw it into your drawer. You opened a new browser window when Marjorie strolled in. She had black oversized glasses and a hoodie. In her hands were two coffee cups and a brown paper bag.

You were relieved when you saw her - talking with her would help keep your anxieties at bay.

You stood and turned the corner of your desk and hopped on Marjorie’s desk.

“Morning!” You replied cheerfully.

Marjorie groaned. “Why are you so loud? Why is it so bright in here?” You reached for a coffee and she protested, reaching for it. You held it back, smirking.

“Someone had a bit much I suppose? Woke up full of regret for poor life choices?”

Marjorie took off her sunglasses. “Yes.” She hissed. “You had a lot to drink too; why are you so chipper? Did you get laid or something?”

You paused and it was a long enough of a pause for her to jump all over it. “Oh my fuck, who? Spill. Carisi?”

You barked out a laugh before taking a sip of the piping hot coffee. “No. God knows I love him, but not like that.” You narrowed your eyes and leaned down to whisper, scanning the office.

“Um - what are you doing? We’re the only ones here working today.” Marjorie cocked her brow in response.

“This place leaks like a sieve, Marj - you know that.” You warned. “Can’t be too careful.”

Marjorie sighed and put on her sunglasses once more. “Sorry, it’s too bright. Still too drunk.”

You shook your head. “Um. It was Barba.”

“You fucked Barba!” Marjorie shrieked loudly.

“Would you lower your voice?” You replied sternly. “No. I did not sleep with him. But we did kiss. And he sorta asked me out.”

“Holy crap on a cracker.” Marjorie replied, astounded by the news. She opened the other coffee and pushed the brown paper bag towards you. “Bear claws. So how was it? Is he as silver tongued as he is in the courtroom?”

Your cheeks burned as you replayed the kiss in your mind - how his tongue followed yours, deepening the kiss. It was full of enthusiasm and how he pulled you against him, his body solid and warm. If you tried hard enough, you could still taste the mix of scotch and coffee that was his kiss. “He was very… ” You trailed off slowly, trying to search for the right word. “... passionate. Yes, very passionate. Knows what he’s doing.”

Marjorie tipped her coffee at you. “Well then.”

When Rafael did eventually text you, he suggested a restaurant in the NoLiTa section of Manhattan. He insisted on meeting you at your place, as to him, it was the proper thing to do. You declined, insisting that a boomerang trip was uneccessary and that you’d meet him at the location. From the sidewalk on East Houston Street, under a grimy red awning that appeared to belong to a fading pizza parlor, Emilio’s Ballato didn’t look like much.

Rafael waited outside for you, rubbing his gloved hands together and when you crossed the street, he smiled. He had planned the whole night to a tee and it was going to be perfect. Rafael would settle for nothing less.

You kissed each other on the cheek and then took his hand. On the walls were framed album covers and snapshots of various stars, from stalwarts like David Bowie and Billy Joel to the titans of film, like Frank Sinatra and Martin Scorsese.

“Mr. Barba!” A voice cried out. You looked and the voice belonged to a hulking minotaur of a man who was sitting like a wary sentry at the first table. He was armed with a cup of espresso that looked like a thimble in the paws of a giant.

“Emilio!” Rafael greeted in return. The two men broke into Italian and you cocked your brow. You had no idea what they were saying and when ‘Emilio’ looked past Rafael and to you, you waved with a small smile.

“Come this way. I have a table in the back - more private.” Emilio replied in a thick Italian accent. “Welcome to my restaurant. We will make sure you’re taken care of.”

A waiter came by to take your coats and winter wear. As you shimmied off your coat, Rafael found his mouth suddenly go dry. You wore a blue velvet wrap dress with long sleeves and v-neckline. Black tights and black knee high boots rounded out the look.

“You look stunning.” Rafael complimented as he handed his camel peacoat over.

You felt your cheeks burn and you were grateful for the dimmed recessed lighting. Rafael looked equally as handsome in charcoal slacks and a white button down fitted with a navy suit jacket.

“Thank you counselor, likewise.” You replied. Rafael was ever the gentleman, helping you to your seat first before taking his place across from you. Soft jazz music played, but not so loudly as to be interruptive to conversation. The two of you were just settling in when Rafael’s phone rang loudly. Rafael reached for his phone, looked at the caller and sent the call to voicemail.

Rafael apologized for the interruption and you waved your hand, while shaking your head. “No worries.”

Another waiter came by, with a bottle of red wine, compliments of the house.

“So what “in” do you have in this place?” You asked as you took a sip of the wine.

“Emilio - back in the day when I was an A.D.A, had a family member who was assaulted. I was the prosecutor on the case. I put away a violent sociopath and rapist for a very long time. Emilio told me I was always welcome to the restaurant. I - I never really had anyone to bring here.” Rafael replied.

“Until now.” You finished, chewing on a sesame breadstick.

“Until you.” Rafael clarified, causing your heart to flutter.

Over dinner, you got to know each other better. You discussed how you ended up on the lawyer track and how you were study buddies with Carisi and Marjorie.

He shared his fascination with The Waves by Virginia Woolf and The Count of Monte Cristo. Rafael went into passionate detail for the French literary classic by Dumas, recounting "This is the first book I remember my father giving me to read. It was my favorite book growing up. It's an easy read. I was a boy in middle school. I fell in love with the world and the drama of it. What’s your favorite novel?”

Again, Rafael’s phone rang, interrupting. Rafael let out a quiet swear as he reached for his phone. “I swear, I put it on vibrate.”

“Someone’s mighty popular.” You gave him a wink as you reached for your glass of wine.

Rafael blinked and let out a deep exhalation. “So you were going to tell me about your favorite novel.”

Rafael reached for your hand across the table and you were about to grasp it, when the waiter arrived to serve dinner. You jumped back slightly as the food was placed before you. Rafael had pasta with mussels, while you had pasta cacio e pepe.

Picking up your fork, you nodded. “Love in the Time of Cholera. Florentino Ariza suffers from lovesickness as one would suffer from cholera, enduring both physical and emotional pains as he longs for Fermina Daza.”

Rafael cocked his brow. “For my taste, there are too many long passages of exposition with Garcia Marquez explaining what the characters are going through. But as easy as the story is to follow, and as seductive as it is, it never gives away what is really going on.”

You scoffed. “So I suppose you don’t believe love conquers all?”

Rafael gave you a coy smile. “In the end we’re all passing through.” You laughed and it was music to his ears.

More wine was had and conversation flowed easily. Emilio insisted that you both stay for dessert. At some point, your chair shifted and you were sitting right next to Rafael as you split vanilla panna cotta. Rafael’s eyes shifted from your eyes to your lips as you licked the spoon clean. You put the spoon down and could feel the sexual tension rising. As soon as you reached for him, you accidentally knocked over your glass of red wine, and it spilled in the direction of Rafael, all over his white shirt.

“Oh fuck, I am so sorry.” You apologized profusely as you frantically dabbed at his shirt with the cloth napkin.

“It’s okay; it’s just clothing.” Rafael replied as he too blotted the stain.

“It’s not.” You disagreed. “Here I am, trying to make a good impression, ya know, be all charming and sexy for you - the Rafael Barba - and instead I am a klutz. Ugh, that is going to set if we don’t take care of it.”

“Did you say sexy?” Rafael questioned, a smile dancing on his lips.

You opened your mouth to reply when Rafael’s phone rang again interrupting your thoughts. Rafael threw the napkin on the table, letting out an irritated sigh. When he saw the name, he held up a finger. “Let me just answer this.”

“Liv, what is-- yes now is not a good time.” Rafael hissed into the phone. “Tomorrow. That’s all I got. Okay. Okay. Talk then.”

Rafael tossed his phone onto the table and threw his head back, rubbing his hands over his face.” When he sat up, he noticed the bemused look on your face. You reached up and began dabbing his shirt once more.

“It’s really not a big deal.” Rafael replied softly. He grabbed your wrists gently, pausing your movements. His hands were warm and they circled your wrists easily.

You allowed yourself to relax in his grasp and crinkled your nose. “It really is going to set. We should go and clean it. Otherwise it’s ruined. And this shirt is nice; it’d be a shame for it to get tossed.”

“At this hour? And where?” Rafael replied incredulously as he signaled the waiter for the check.

“We… could go to your place.” You suggested softly. “I am pretty good with stains. Just need some salt, boiling water, and white vinegar.”

Stunned silence followed - it was brief, but it felt like an eternity when he spoke again. “Sure.”

It didn’t take long to get to Rafael’s. “I am so sorry again.” You apologized as you stepped off the elevator.

“Accidents happen.” Rafael replied as he led you down the hall to his apartment. If anyone had told you that you would be on a date with Rafael Barba, you would have laughed in their face and asked them for some of the good stuff that they were smoking. But here you, in front of a rather ordinary door marked 6C. Once inside, Rafael turned on the light and you took in the apartment before you. It was freakishly spotless and you wondered if you had entered a living ad for Architectural Digest. The apartment was sleek and modern but carried a warm ambiance. Colorful artwork hung off the walls and there was a built in walled library filled with all sorts of legal texts and what appeared to be vinyls. His apartment smelled like a mixture of leather and tobacco and books plus whatever cologne he had donned.

“I’ll go get changed.” Rafael replied. “The kitchen is over that way and there is vinegar and salt in the cupboards. You nodded and made way, rummaging through his kitchen. His cupboards were as meticulous as his apartment and you smiled at the things that you found as you searched for the items you needed to clean the stain, like a box of peanut butter cap ‘n’ crunch.

You found the salt and vinegar when Rafael came back with his ruined clothes. He had changed into another undershirt and a pair of dark jeans. You felt the air get sucked out of his chest at the sight of him so casual. A tuft of chest hair poked out of the v-neckline and a gold chain glinted in the light. You took the clothes and spread them out on his kitchen counter and set to work.

“Want anything to drink?” Rafael asked.

“Water would be nice.” You managed to squeak out before you tackled the stains. Rafael watched you as you methodically worked out the stains. Your brows were furrowed in concentration and he found you adorable.

Rafael placed a small glass of water by you and then walked over to his music collection before choosing a record to play. The all too familiar instrumental notes of one of your favorite songs began to play.

“Is that--?” You paused, looking at him curiously.

“Vitamin String Quartet.” Rafael expanded. “Lana del Rey.”

“Never had you pegged as a Lana del Rey fan.” You murmured continuing to work on the stain.

“Plato said that music is moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything.” Rafael stated. “I have a very eclectic taste in music and if you go through my collection, you’ll find everything from Biggie to Celia Cruz to Lana del Rey to Prince - and everything else in between.”

“Impressive.” You replied.

“And what would you have me pegged as?” Rafael prodded. He had also poured himself a glass of water.

You stopped and looked up at him. You were overwhelmed by how handsome he is. Eyes that were biscay green and a strong aquiline nose. His hair, now bordering on more silver, than salt and pepper, made your hands twitch, as if your muscles instinctively wanted to run through it. You licked your lips and sucked in your bottom lip. You didn’t miss how his eyes darkened.

“You’re the infamous Rafael Barba. Boy wonder. Taking on cases that everyone ducks with your big, brass…” Rafael’s eyebrow cocks and you smirk as you finish, “ego.”

“And baby killer.” Rafael interjected. His tone was acidic.

You flinched. “You’re not a baby killer.”

Rafael cocked his head. “Aren’t I?”

“Depends on the jury.” You replied, walking over to him, crossing your arms, which only served to push up your tits more. “But really, I don’t think of you like that. I know there is more to a person than just that one thing.”

“Not according to the court of public opinion.” Rafael managed to croak as his eyes drifted to your chest. “There is a reason I have kept a low profile all this time.”

You closed the gap between you and him and pressed your palms against his chest. He was solid and warm. You could feel his pectoral muscles twitch. A spark shot through your body, settling between your legs.

Rafael’s hands settled on your hips. The velvet of your dress was softer than he imagined and he could picture the dress pooling down at your feet. Part of him wished that the date had gone better. It did not go as well as he had planned.

“I’m sorry for tonight.” Rafael murmured as he wrapped his arms loosely around your hips. “This was not what I had planned for us at all.”

“I’m not.” You replied, looking up at him. You now wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing even closer against him. “I don’t need fancy dinners. I am just happy to spend time with you. I really had a good time. I am sorry about the shirt, but it seems all fine now.”

Rafael searched your eyes. The tension in the room shifted. Your heart began to pound and your breathing became more shallow.

“I… the stain… it’s lifted.” You whispered shakily. Rafael lowered his eyes to your lips and recalled how good it felt to kiss them. He wanted to do it again. So he did. You didn’t hold back, moaning as his mouth crashed against yours. He pressed his mouth against yours with more force, crushing them. He took the opportunity to trace his tongue against the seam of your lips, seeking entrance to your mouth. You acquiesced his request by parting your lips, and he deepened the kiss by sliding his tongue into your mouth. You responded in turn by pulling his bottom lip, sucking and nipping. His chest rumbled. Rafael lifted you up, his hands going to your thighs, encouraging you to wrap your feet around his hips.

Rafael carried you to the couch, walking backwards until he felt the couch and threw himself down, bringing you with him. You let out a squeak but that turned into another moan as his lips found purchase along your neck and he took the opportunity to suck a bruising mark into your skin.

Your nipples were hard like diamonds and the strip of material that dared call itself underwear was ruined. Rafael’s hands slid down your back to your ass and he gave each cheek a squeeze.

You rolled your hips, feeling how hard he was beneath you and then slid your hands under his shirt and through his chest hair, confirming how solid he was. You raked your nails down his chest and Rafael let out a groan of a man who had been denied too long. “Oh Rafael.” You breathed into his ear as you pressed kisses upwards along his neck to his cheek and then to his earlobe where you sucked and flicked your tongue against the thin flesh.

“Keep that up and I’ll…” Rafael groaned. His hands move to the front of your dress squeezing. You pulled away reluctantly and looked into his eyes, which were blown with lust.

“So soon old man?” You winked. “We’re just getting started.”

“I am not that old.” Rafael retorted.

“Even if you were - which you’re not, it wouldn’t stop me.” You replied before ducking down to kiss him once more. You rolled your hips again, grinding harder against him. You took his hands and placed them on your breasts, sighing as he squeezed them. His fingers moved to play with your nipples and when he gave them a firm but gentle pinch, you couldn't help but shudder. You were melting under his touch.

You were just about to tell him to take you to bed so you could ride him into next week, when your phone began to sound.

“I should get that.” You replied, giving him an apologetic look.

You climbed off and Rafael let out another groan, his eyes laser focused on your ass as you walked away. “Mierda.”

“It’s SVU. They need me to come down.” You replied as you checked your phone.

Rafael let out a deep sigh. “Do you want me to come down with you?”

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s late Y/N, let me at least walk you over to the precinct. It’s a few blocks away.”

“Okay.” You relented.

The walk over was quick. You got to the steps of the precinct and looked up at the door and then at him. “Raincheck?”

Rafael nodded. “Raincheck.” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips and then you bounded up the stairs, turning to give him a quick wave. Rafael watched you until you were gone. He dropped his head as he began to trek back home.

‘What a fucking disaster.’ He thought miserably. He looked at his hands before he shoved them in his pockets. ‘I guess it's just us for tonight.’

TBC.

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#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x you #rafael barba and reader #rafael barba x female reader #rafael barba fanfiction

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