#VIntage Red Spine Classics

[ijustkindalikebooks]

Some of the Vintage Classics I have left to read on my shelf, what should I read next?

#booklr #books #bookblr #fiction #book #classics #vintage #vintage classics #red spines #booklover #bookworm #currently reading #books and reading #books & libraries

[ofmontmorency]

❝ SEMPRA SUPRA | ALWAYS ABOVE ❞ ⸻ inspired by scar (the lion king), frances price (french exit), lady macbeth (macbeth), and lust (fullmetal alchemist)

PINTEREST — SPOTIFY

tw: death, murder, teen pregnancy

basics

• full name: delphine geneva antonia of montmorency

• nicknames: delphie (by her husband only)

• gender: cis female

• pronouns: she/her

• age: 64

• date of birth: 21st december 1959

• zodiac sign: sagittarius

• sexuality: bisexual (male leaning)

• place of birth: paris, france

• residence: a grand manor in an old english style with french influence in the city of london

• occupation: head of the table

• aesthetics: vintage red wine, anything decorated in gold, silk, champagne, gunpowder, diamonds, ornate silver daggers, coats with fur collars, designer jewellery, floral perfume

appearance

• faceclaim: kristin scott thomas

• voice claim: kristin scott thomas

• height: 5’ 7”

• build: average ; a little on the skinnier side

• eyes: blue

• hair: blonde

• piercings: both earlobes

• tattoos: a minimalist tattoo running all the way down her spine

• style:

personality

• positive traits: organised, resourceful, articulate, hardworking, punctual, charming

• negative traits: reserved, cunning, ruthless, cruel, sadistic, persuasive, vindictive

• mbti: estj - the executive

• likes: literature, art, history, sweet food, shopping (particularly for clothes and jewellery), champagne and wine, fruit teas, seeing her enemies cower before her

• dislikes: extreme temperatures, spicy food, being underestimated, dust and dirt (especially on her family’s heirlooms and décor), tardiness, sports (other than equestrian sports)

• phobias: entomophobia

• hobbies: reading, target practice, collecting art and antiques

• skills: sharpshooter ; expert in using knives as a weapon ; polyglot (speaks fluent english, french, italian, german, russian, and japanese) ; ambidextrous (favours her right hand)

• pet peeves: being disrespected and underestimated, cheap alcohol, people interrupting or talking over her

• other: a lot of people find it frightening how quickly she can shift from being calm and composed to being threatening and vicious. delphine can be volatile and will not hesitate to hurt someone if she is threatened herself or disrespected in any way. in the blink of an eye, she is capable whipping out a knife and stabbing or slitting someone’s throat no matter who they are. nobody disrespects delphine m and lives long to tell the tale.

family

• mother: alexandra loretta elizabeth cavendish (deceased)

• father: etienne benedict of montmorency (deceased)

• siblings: adonis etienne roman of montmorency (older brother by four years- deceased)

• oldest daughter: jacqueline of montmorency

• youngest daughter: davika aphrodite of montmorency

• granddaughter: noémie beatrix of montmorency

favourites

• food: anything sweet

• drink: champagne

• time of the day: evening

• weather: warm and sunny

• colours: red ; gold

• songs: anything classical

bio

— delphine was born on 21st december 1960 at 1:38am to etienne of montmorency and his wife victoria. how fitting it was for a baby who would grow up to be a cold, ruthless, cruel woman to be born on the darkest day of the year. she was also born two weeks early when her parents were in paris on business, which was an ‘inconvenience’ as the birth delayed her father’s meetings and upset the cliente. naturally, it was out of anybody’s hands, but when she was older morgaine had a feeling she was never forgiven for arriving early.

— she grew up in the shadow of her older brother adonis: the golden child who could do no wrong, the heir to the montmorency fortune, and future head of the table. she was essentially a spare part and could never instant why her parents bothered with another child if they weren’t going to mould her the same way as they did with adonis; she certainly never intended to be a ‘lady’ of any kind and always stirred trouble for her nannies and governesses. from a young age delphine was taught to speak several languages, had a head start in reading and writing, and was shown many self-defence techniques. when she was old enough, she was also taught how to use a gun, which she became incredibly adept at, and even taught herself how to use knives as a weapon.

— when finding out about the ‘family business’, delphine never shied away from the nitty gritty. she was incredibly curious and with all of her incessant questions her father had no choice but to teach her about the table, its history, the family history, and the balance that must be kept within their shadowy underworld.

— attending boarding school allowed delphine freedom. she went to an international school in switzerland, just as her brother and father did, and finally found herself at the centre of attention, which she completely revelled in. she made many friends and admirers and achieved excellent grades. whilst at school, she also met her future husband; they flirted with each other for fun, never thinking anything of it, but what started as a joke turned into real romantic feelings. after deciding to start dating they became glued at the hip, rarely seen apart and always whispering in each other’s ears. they didn’t know it initially, but their respective families knew one another

— in april 1977, when delphine was only 17, she fell pregnant. her first reaction was panic, immediately wondering how her parents would react. they were angry at first, shouting about how irresponsible their perfect daughter had been and what she was supposed to do with her life now. but when things had settled delphine told them that whilst the pregnancy was an accident she had genuinely love for her boyfriend and they believed her, especially when they found out which noble and respected family he was from. for this reason alone they approved of the young couple’s expeditious marriage, with the ceremony being held in late may before delphine’s pregancy began to show.

— just a little over a month after her 18th birthday, delphine’s child was born: a daughter she named jacqueline. barely an adult herself, morgaine wasn’t entirely sure how to be with her baby and neither was her husband. they were both navigating this completely new and terrifying experience together and even though they didn’t really want it (yet, at least) they plowed through and provided nothing but the best for their daughter (maybe a little more emotional involvement wouldn’t have gone amiss…) including the most capable nannies.

— as the months progressed, delphine began to notice a change in adonis. he seemed to shy away from anything business related and always attempted to make excuses for not getting involved. morgaine didn’t know whether her parents hadn’t noticed the change or simply refused to acknowledge it, but she saw it as an opportunity to exploit adonis in order to assume the power he wanted to denounce. one night, when the two of them were alone in the house, she lured him to the top of the grand staircase and with all of her strength kicked him down. he tumbled, hit his head hard, and was dead before his body hit the floor. knowing it would be a maid that found him in the morning, morgaine retreated to bed without remorse. she never had a particularly good relationship with adonis anyway.

— delphine feigned her grief the following day when her parents hastily returned home. she told them she heard nothing in the night and was asleep before the maid’s screams woke her up. her parents were distraught: their precious only son was dead and now they had no choice but to set morgaine up for her new future. she spent a lot more time with her father, who showed her the ins and outs of the family business- the practical and financial aspects and even gave her extra lessons in the ways in which to kill a person. she already had the ruthless montmorency streak running through her like a stick of rock, so needed no teaching in how to remain composed and level-headed.

— when delphine was 34 her father died and she assumed the role as head of table, already having an established reputation for being cold-hearted and merciless. she knew she made etienne proud. her mother was glad she had turned out to be a worthy successor and subtly doted on delphine, who couldn’t care less for the woman who had never before showed much interest in her. loretta then died 8 years later.

— 10 years after jacqueline was born, morgaine and her husband welcomed another daughter, who they named davika. this time it wasn’t an accidental pregnancy and morgaine hoped that, unlike her and adonis, they would grow up to get along even despite the large age difference. although she didn’t say it a lot, especially out loud to anyone other than her husband, she was proud to have daughters and that the next two heads of the table were all going to be women.

— by this time jacqueline was 14, old enough to know the importance of the montmorency family and the status it held in their world and old enough to start being introduced to the more darker aspects of it. she, too, was sent to boarding school for a proper education and in the meantime delphine, whilst making her own mark on the world, was still very happy with her husband (contrary to popular belief- people never thought it would last, but her husband had grown to be equally as ruthless and strong-willed and always looked out for his wife).

— she became a grandmother to jacqueline’s daughter noémie when she was 43. she and delphine had a good relationship and spent quite a bit of time with each other, especially during the summers when they sit together in the garden of the manor. noémie had always been clingy with morgaine and whilst it irritated her at first she soon grew to accept it and realised that it probably helped in strengthening their bond.

other muses: e. crowe / r. thorne / m. fox

#talesfmintro #⸻ sky ; she/her ; 23 ; gmt ; no triggers

[morningsunstudio]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage 1976 Better Homes & Gardens cookbook Classic red white.

[itscelestefromnm3217]

Critiquing a Design

Description: 

This is a Cover Design Concept for the book Fahrenheit 451, designed by Elizabeth Perez.

It’s a simple, plain-white hardcover book. On the front, the title of the book, Fahrenheit 451, is printed in a large font, and below it is the author’s name, Ray Bradbury. Aside from these, there are no additional details. A simple black, white, and red colour scheme is used. Consistent tones and flat colours are used, along with a modern Sans Serif font.

The book’s spine is screenprinted with matchstriking paper, and a single match replaces the ‘1′ in the title’s ‘451′.

Analysis: 

On the cover, ‘451′ is in the largest and boldest font, drawing immediate attention from the viewer. This contrast brings the viewer to notice the match, and soon after, the book’s matchstriking spine. 

Perez has eliminated all nonessential details on her concept cover, and achieved a very clean, simplistic design. The cover lacks any gaudy details or embellishments, only including the title and the author’s name with her and and matchbox.

Interpretation: 

With her minimalistic design, Perez is able to communicate a lot, by using very little. Without distractors, she distinctly expresses the theme of book burning through her main visual elements, the match and the honeycomb patterned matchstriking paper built into the book itself. 

Perez doesn’t tell the audience the plot of the book through a lengthy synopsis, rather, she shows them. Fahrenheit 451 is a classic sci-fi novel, set in a future in which books have been completely outlawed. In this world, firemen are tasked to burn any remaining books found. With Perez’s book cover, she literally provides the audience with the tools necessary to light a fire, so the book itself can be set aflame. 

In fact, the audience is immersed in the storyline; they’re no longer a bystander observing the events from afar. By interacting with the physical form of the book, so easily set ablaze, the story is brought to reality. (It’s even more apt that the book Fahrenheit 451 itself has been widely banned)  

Judgement: 

I really like this design. I think it’s creative, it’s simple, and it gets its point across without being too overwhelming on the viewer. Those familiar with Fahrenheit 451 would be left in awe, and those new to the book would have their curiosity piqued. It sparks a very intuitive, immediate understanding, only elevated by contextual knowledge of the book’s contents. 

Fahrenheit 451 is set in the year 2049, but was written in 1953 by an author envisioning a far future. Thus, there’s a tension here between past and future; should Fahrenheit 451 be ‘futuristic’ or a vintage ode to the past? 

I don’t have many notes against this concept cover. However, if i were to redesign it, I’d like to play with this concept more. Perhaps different fonts aside from the Sans Serif used could further emphasise this tension, reflecting a certain era. 

Alternatively, we could alter the book’s minimalist design, referencing designs of the future by people in the past (e.g. a Jules Verne, steampunk type aesthetic) or expanding into the vintage, old matchbox theme, instead of limiting to just the spine. Though I do wonder whether this would truly improve the design, or take away from the benefits of simplicity.

[katiesclassicbooks]

Currently Reading: Fish Can Sing by Halldor Laxness 

#Fish Can Sing #Halldor Laxness #Currently Reading #Icelandic Literature #1950's #VIntage Red Spine Classics

[its-not-el]

Things that remind me of: marauders edition

Feat-their Taylor swift album

James: apple cider, the colour burgundy, ink quills, citrus, the 1960s, the Beatles, hand written notes, the smell of fresh parchment, fogged glasses on humid or cold mornings, pen pals, yellow roses, journal entries, mocking birds, The Lumineers, blurry eyes, sweater vests, romance novels, fresh chocolate chip cookies, ducklings, dandelions, Red (Taylor’s version)

Remus: honey, teddy bears, Fleatwood Mac, sweaters, the soft crackling of a fire place, classical literature, vinyl records, black coffee, the smell of pine trees, misty mornings, cinnamon rolls, dark chocolate, David Bowie, oil paintings, pencil sketches, blackberries, musical theater, full moons, trench coats, loud thunder, stormy nights, biscuits, honey lemon cough drops, fairy lights, folklore

Sirius: loud music, 70s/80s rock, leather jackets, un—scented candles, tattoos, hard liquor, evergreen trees, crows, broken book spines, vintage paintings, Joan Jett, longing looks from across the room, bear hugs, black roses, loud thunder, AC/DC, cold winter mornings, mint, black converse, autumn, jack-o’lanterns, chain link necklaces, chunky rings, måneskin, rusty swing sets, reputation

Peter: ink spills, sunsets, Polaroids, old furniture, worn out coats, oil burning lamps, maps, small pastries and fruit tarts, Mitski, coconut, snow angles, poetry recitations, pastel yellows, blush, fairy lights, cloudy nights, candlesticks, mice, broken mirrors, broken promises, puffy red eyes the morning after crying yourself to sleep, secrets, anxiety scratching, fake smiles, holding in tears when someone asks if you’re ok, indie music, evermore

#james potter #james potter x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #peter pettigrew #peter pettigrew x reader #marauders #marauders x reader #harry potter #fanfic #one shot #Imagine

[bug-boy32]

Strawberry Milkshakes 🍓

Summary: Peter was gone, it’s been months…still you can’t help but go to the place you first met.

tasmpeterxreader

Not fully proof read so please forgive any mistakes

Warnings: Mentions and descriptions of death, it’s just sad and angsty i’m so sorry.

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The night you met the love of your life.

Your friends had planned you a blind date that you really just weren’t up for, yet somehow they convinced you to give in and “just go it will be worth it!”

You arrive at this small vintage diner that just seemed so familiar for some reason, the neon red lights, mixed with the smell of air freshener and candy. The door jingles as you make your way into the place your shoes tapping on the checkered tiles below you. Your looking for the brunette boy with glasses your friends described to you, you scan the place four times over and see no sight of the man.

Suddenly the door behind you jingles and a man runs in panting and stumbling into one of the booths. That was Peter, at the time you think to yourself, “this is about to be the worst date of my life”.

You sit down across from him and introduce yourself. The dork was still catching his breath as he apologized for being late he stated he had, “lost track of time while working.” Honestly if you would have known then why he was really gone, you would have instantly forgave him.

The date went surprisingly amazing, you were laughing and smiling more than you had in a long time. You both loved the same things and had long conversations about the subjects. At the end of the date you were offered a small menu of milkshakes and malts. You offer Peter the option of sharing a milkshake, he awkwardly accepts the romantic offer and orders a strawberry milkshake for the two of you.

As you each sipped the sweet drink from the classic striped straws and glass cups, you both bumped into each other’s noses. Instinctively, you leaned in to kiss each other. It was short and sweet, you could still taste the tinge of strawberry on his lips as he reaches the cup your face with his large hand. When you broke apart you both giggled and Peter just had to double maybe even triple check that he didn’t make you uncomfortable. You assured him he did nothing wrong and told him you would love to go on a second date.

In the following years the two of you went on dozens of dates, moved in together, adopted a cat, went to the farmers market every weekend, but one thing was the most important. He confessed his biggest secret, your Peter was spider-man. You were shocked to say the least but honestly it explained a lot, why he was late to almost everywhere he went, why he occasionally had cuts and bruises because he “fell” and why he always seemed so stressed.

You worried about him but he always promised he would come home and he would always keep you safe. That was the case for 2 years until he encountered a particular villain. He seemed to be just like any other big and muscular but with a even bigger ego. Peter was sure he could take him down with ease. The fight was going as planned until the criminal caught on the what he was doing. He grabbed Peter and threw him to the ground, before peter could retaliate the villain violently pinned him to the ground with his foot. He repeatedly stomped on his spine until there was no sign of life in his eyes.

Paramedics rushed to his side but it was too late, he was gone. First they called Aunt May, and from there May called you. It was the last thing you expected, as soon as May uttered the words, “Y/N Peters gone.” your phone dropped to the ground along with yourself. You sobbed for hours in disbelief. You tried to convince yourself that it didn’t happen, that Peter was going to walk through the front door of your shared apartment with a smile on his face. But deep down you knew, you would never see him again.

In the following weeks his funeral was planned and executed, you gave a speech about how Peter was the most selfless, kind, amazing person in the world and how he was an even better super hero. With that you knew it was over, you would never love another person.

It’s been months now, you still cry on the daily, you watch the videos on your phone of the two of you just to hear his voice again, every time you see a photo of him or even of spider-man you break down.

But, when you could muster up the strength to leave your house you visited the place you and Peter loved most, the diner. You would walk in and smell the comforting scent of the place, find the booth you often sat at, and order one thing. A strawberry milkshake.

#andrew!peter parker #andrew!spiderman #spider man #spider man x reader #spider man x y/n #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter imagine #tasm peter x you #tasm angst #tasm #tasm peter x reader #tasm rp #tasm fanfiction #spider man fanfiction #tasm 2 #peter parker fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #peter parker angst #bug-boy32 #bug boy

[beebabycastiel]

56+4? For your favorite beta? 🙏

ANYTHING FOR MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE FANDOM!!!

Awful First Meeting + Coffee Shop AU

It's not the army, but overall it's not a bad job. He's had worse. Much worse. Whole Latte Love is the kind of place that would never belong anywhere except on the westside-- where people wear beanies and Doc Martens in the summer and always make sure to tell Ian how valuable they think he is for working a cash register and pouring espresso. He makes a killing in tips, though, so he can't really complain.

He can't complain about the classic rock and 70's music constantly playing, either. Nor the artfully distressed sofas and armchairs that look like some of the furniture in his childhood home. Or even the vinyl records and vintage concert posters decorating the walls that he has to tell people at least fifty times a day are not for sale. But he can complain about him.

The latte artist with an eyebrow ring and sleeveless flannels and knuckles tattoos who called Ian a "fuckin' dipshit" on his first day when he asked if there was steamed milk in an Americano.

His nametag says "Mickey" but it should say asshole in Ian's opinion.

And because it's a universally upheld truth that luck is never on a Gallagher's side, it makes total sense that his first shift after his latest depressive episode he walks into work to see Asshole Mickey already grinding beans. He looks up when he he hears the door open, dark eyebrows arched and poised for an attack like the spine of a hissing cat.

"I work here, remember?" Ian snaps, shutting the door and shucking his scarf as he stomps around the counter to shove his coat haphazardly away. Asshole Mickey snorts, and Ian feels his jaw harden with such a sudden force his teeth creak with it.

"You were gone for a while, dude. Just checkin' in," he huffs under his breath. Ian clenches his jaw so hard he feels a tiny pop somewhere, but otherwise doesn’t say shit. His boss knows. His boss doesn’t care. That’s all that matters. As the shop opens and the passes with a steady stream of customers, the tighter Ian clenches his jaw. He’s distracted (not for the first time) by the way Asshole Mickey’s hands move when they carefully pour drinks or the way his butt looks good in his black skinny jeans. 

But that’s not new. But in the three months he’s worked here, Asshole Mickey’s never bothered to say more than a tight ‘sup’ to him or call him anything but ‘Red.’ He’s never chatted with Ian between costumers. Never offered to do anything more than scoff at Ian calling out orders so he can make them. But now he’s offering to help. 

Offering to wipe tables between lulls, or stocking cups and sugar packets before Ian can get there. Even offering to man the register for a second if Ian needs a smoke, which he never does. He’s an asshole to all, apparently, including costumers. So, the owner and the manager have mutually agreed to keep him strictly as a barista. When Ian asked a coworker why he hadn’t been fired yet, she just shrugged, guessing maybe it was the fact that his latte art was damn near perfect and he’s never ever missed a shift. 

It’s clear as the day winds down, that it’s all a ploy. It’s some sort of scheme to get Ian fired by proving he’s an lazy and incompetent nutcase. Ian’s been quite about it so far. Giving short, clipped answers to his weird and awkward attempts at chatting or just glaring at him pointedly until he huffs and goes back to making cat faces and cartoon characters with caramel sauce. But he finally breaks when he comes back from his last smoke break, shivering with the cold and sees Mr. Asshole Never Missed A Shift is stacking chairs-- something that is definitely Ian’s job. 

“What are you doing?” 

Asshole Mickey jerks in surprise, the chair he was pulling out to stack dragging with an angry squeal across the floor. Mickey takes one, shifty-eyed look at him before pulling the chair out again and smoothly flipping it to rest on the table along with the others.

“What’s it look like I’m doin’ Red?” 

“My name’s Ian,” he snaps back, stalking forward, “And it looks like you’re doing all my work for me,”

Mickey snorts again, loud and rude before he turns to meet his fiery glare with one of his own.

“I’m helpin’ you, you fucking moron,”

“For what?” 

Mickey blinks at him, acting surprised and a touch offended before his glare returns, somehow icer than before. 

“Because you were sick?” he arches an incredulous eyebrow, “What? You want me to be an asshole or something?” 

“Yes!” Ian explodes, stomping forward to stand toe to toe with him. Close enough to see the cute smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and smell the warm cinnamon and cigarette scent of his skin. It infuriates him.

“You’re always an asshole!” he challenges, “Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?”

“‘Cause I like you, you dumb shit!” 

The silence that follows overpowers everything. It presses down, heavy and tense. Smothering the steady drip of the espresso machine and the Clash still playing over the speakers and both of their heavy breaths. Finally, Ian swallows past the huge lump in his throat.

“What?”

Mickey huffs, the apples of his cheeks sprinkled with a pinkish flush. He toys idly with his eyebrow ring as he speaks.

“I like you,” he enunciates like Ian really is stupid. Maybe he is.

“I thought maybe you quit. ‘Casue, y’know,” he mumbles, he makes a vague gesture with his hand.

“You’re an asshole?” Ian suggests, his lips quirking into a smile. Mickey’s cheeks flush a little deeper and he rolls his eyes before looking up at Ian.

“So, we square now?” Mickey asks. Ian’s no stranger from boomeranging between emotions. Highs and lows and higher highs. But this sudden and unexpected giddiness feels good. It makes him feel bold and a little reckless in the best way. 

“No,” he says back, keeping his voice flat. The color in Mickey’s cheeks drains and he looks back down at the floor like a little kid. It pulls too tightly at his chest, so even though he’d like to drag it out for all the shitty behavior from the past, he doesn’t.

“You gotta take me on a date,” he says, causing Mickey to look up sharply, his cheeks flooding with color once more, “Then we’ll be square.”

He’s expecting a punch to the jaw. A threat of death or of a sexual harassment complaint. But instead he’s treated to a small, almost shy smile on his usually scowling face. 

“Well, where do you wanna go, Red?” 

#kimber ily #i promise i'll write something for you if its the last thing i do #my literal favorite person in the fandom #gallavich fanfic #fanfic mash up #fanfic trope #ian x mickey #shameless fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #coffee shop au #abrupt ending bc i could have written at LEAST seven hundred pages of this #my writing #beebabycastiel writes #fanfic

[ijustkindalikebooks]

I might like Vintage classics 😅

#booklr #books #bookblr #fiction #book #bookshelf #books b #book spines #classics #vintage #red

[lilyblyss]

Like the bad influence I am, I dragged my friend down into Nanami brain rot with me, and like always she gave me such a wonderful idea to write. I managed to kick this out in a day, and promptly passed out before posting lol.

Word count: 3k

Warning: 18+, public sex, sneaky sex, role play, Nanami is only a touch mean, breeding kink if you squint

On your days off when the curses are unusually behaved or your coworkers are heavy in the area, you take a trip to a small bookstore a few hours out of town. It's tucked away between an old vintage shop and an abandoned thrift shop with an apartment sitting on top of it, it's almost always empty, and doesn’t have many workers but the nice old woman who recommends you books ever so often is ridiculously nice, so you figure it helps with the ambiance. The warm cream walls paired with the rows and rows of dark brown bookcases and hanging lights seemed like a different world compared to the city streets, and it makes a wonderful backdrop for the small cafe area it was attached to.

You weren't sure when the little game you two were playing started, but as your eyes drifted from the spines of nameless books to the brown eyes following you ever since you walked into the shop, you couldn’t care less. He sat at one of the tables, his presence so strong that you stared at him immediately upon walking in.

You rubbed your thighs together as you could feel the tingle of excitement run through you. You make eye contact briefly, and you shiver lightly as you watch his eyes run down your figure before looking back towards your books. You start to wonder if the yellow maxi skirt you decided to wear was a little too modest, pulling at the V-neckline of your shirt, hoping to give the man a little more of a peek. You could feel yourself fluster at such an obvious ploy, almost embarrassed at the thought of wanting to tempt him from across the room.

When you look back at him though, he’s focused on the English tea he ordered, taking a deep sip, seemingly uninterested in the skins of your collar bone and whispers of your breast. You pout, huffing a disappointed sigh quietly, walking deeper to look for more books. His eyes stay on you though, even when he gets up and searches for his own sets of books, you can still feel his gaze on you. You can feel yourself getting wet, each time your eyes meet, wondering if he'll make a move, or whenever he’d pass you in the tiny, almost suffocating aisles, putting both hands on your hips and scooting by you--close enough you can feel him through his khaki slacks. His small grunts of “Excuse me” against the curve of your neck have you questioning your sanity.

Tucked away towards the back of the store, you skim through the book you randomly picked up, words turning into mush as your mind wander back to thick fingers pressing against your warm, sweaty skin, wondering if there’s an open bathroom in the store that you can go to before the man is standing right next to you. You drink in his blonde hair, neatly parted to one side, his button-up shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, showing off his forearms, and his nicely pressed slacks.

“A poetry book? I didn’t take you for the type,” he comments, reaching up to grab a book, and you hate how heavy your tongue feels in your mouth.

“Well, it looks like I’m full of surprises,” You laugh, “Are you into poetry, Mister?”

He scoffs playfully, “Mister? Come now, I can’t be that much older than you.”

You shrug, blinking up at him in a way you hope is attractive. “You never know, I’m sure you’d surprise me.”

One side of his mouth perks up slightly, “I’d like to, all things considered.”

You both talk about books and authors for a quick moment, both of you leaning closer to one another until his hand brushes against your hips too many times to be an accident. You can’t call him out on it though, because he pulls away to point to a book--the one he’d put back as you started pointing out poems to him--saying how he thinks it’ll be right up your alley, and how highly he recommended it.

You reach up trying to grab said recommended book to you, just tapping the bottom of the spine before you feel the man move behind you. His body slightly presses yours into the bookcase as he reaches up and grabs the book, his other hand coming to rest against your hip as if he was using your body for balance. The smell of his cologne is so intoxicating, thick and rich and suffocating in all the right ways that you can’t help but think he knows exactly what you wanted from him. There’s no way he can’t hear the way your body yearns for him, and you think maybe his is just as yearning. You test that theory by slowly grinding against him. From the hardness pressing against you, you were correct.

He groans, deep and throaty, and his hand tightens on your hip, enough that you softly moan at the idea of what’s to come.

He buries his face in your neck, “You shouldn’t do that. Someone might get the wrong idea.”

You turn to look at him, eyes lust-filled and begging, “What if you have the right idea?”

He puts the book back in its rightful spot--what a great customer--reaching for your chin and tilting it so his mouth is slanted against yours. “Well then,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses against your lips, “I would have to ask you to take responsibility for your actions.

His hands map out your body with precision, leaving you breathless as they tease and fondle your breast through your shirt. Your head falls against his shoulder and his lips land against the exposed portion of your collarbone, and you almost laugh when you remember thinking he wasn’t paying attention to you earlier. You reach one hand behind you, cupping his growing erection through his clothes.

He lets out a groan at the touch before growling, hands leaving your body to grab your wrists, forcing you to place them on the bookcase.

He pants heavily against your ear, “No touching.”

You turn back to him and smirk, “Worried you’ll come too soon?”

He kisses you, pressing his lips against yours roughly, basically forcing his tongue inside your mouth, exploring the softness of the inside, and stealing the breath from your lungs. “You’ll ruin mines, sweetheart.” He gives you a particularly hard thrust of his hips, angling your hips just so that his hardness rubs against your lower lips through the fabric of your skirt. He’s warning you to behave, and you moan. “And try not to be too loud. Wouldn’t want to worry poor Iris, would we?”

Suddenly, the idea of getting caught crossed your mind, and your pussy clenched around nothing. You click your tongue, mentally berating yourself for getting aroused for the thought.

The man wouldn’t let you linger on the thought too long, though. You let out a small whimper as his hand rope around your waist, reaching under your skirt to play with your clit, and he lets out a groan when his fingers meet your wetness. He chuckles against your ear, giving the lobe a soft bite. “No panties? How naughty, it’s almost like you planned this.”

You breathlessly giggle, catching the hidden joke in his words, “A-and how would I have been able to do that, Mister.” You shiver and moan when his fingers press firmly against you, dragging antagonizing-ly slow before pressing against the opening of your cunt. Your hands grip the bookcase hard enough your hands hurt. He's being so slow.

The man shushes you, pressing his dick against the curve of your ass. “Come now, you don’t want to get us caught, do you?”

You open your mouth to respond, all while he slowly presses just one finger into you. “I-if you’re so worried about getting caught, maybe you should hurry this up.” You grind your hips back against his, feeling his dick twitch in his slacks. You gasp loudly when he suddenly shoves two fingers deep inside you, arms buckling to give you something to lean your head against, swallowing another moan. “F-fuck…”

He humps against you as he begins to finger fuck you, the soft clicking of your pussy seeming so loud in your ears, even with the classical music slowly playing in the background. “‘Gotta prep you. Don’t want to hurt you.” He chokes out.

You’re at least a little happy he seems as aroused as you do.

His fingers curl up inside you, scissoring for good measures, and you bite at your bottom lip, hoping to stay as quiet as possible. You love how his fingers feel inside you, curling at just the right position, pressing deep inside you, rubbing against your walls giving your wonderful friction, but you can't help yearning for something thicker, something that presses so deep inside you, just barely kissing your cervix, and bordering the lines of pain and pleasure.

You can't even confidently say how long he's been fingering you, but every second that passes feels too damn long.

"E-enough," you breath, back arching and pressing your ass against the front of his pants. He thinks nothing of your words as he presses his fingers into the second knuckle, repeatedly pressing against your g-spot and pushing you closer to your release. "I need… i-inside, please."

He wiggles his fingers, and you don't even need to look at him to know he's raising an eyebrow at you. "They are inside you."

You click your tongue. "You. Y-your dick. C'mon."

"No patience?"

You groaned before looking back at him, face warm, and eyes teary, your bottom lip is bitten red and falls open with a soundless plea falling on them.

He leans forward and kisses you on your cheek, "Okay then."

His hands leave you to unbuckle his belt, bunching up the fabric of your skirt to the top of your ass, holding it in place with his own hips. One of his hands follows the curve of your butt, pushing one of your thighs forward until it hooks against the second-lowest shelf. You laugh when he tells you to be careful of the books, but it comes out shaky when he rubs his dick against your wet lips.

"Remember to stay nice and quiet for me, okay?"

He hardly waits for an answer, thrusting once, cock halfway inside you, and pulling back only to bottom out in the second thrust. He's at least thoughtful enough to wait until your heart isn't going to rip out of your chest before he starts his shallow thrusts. He places one of his hands on the bookshelf, a shelf higher than yours so he isn't crushing you against the furniture, (although, admittedly you wouldn't have minded) while his other is on your waist to steady you.

That still isn't good enough for you. You roll your hips, putting your face back into your arms in frustration, prompting him to go faster, groaning when his hand firmly grabs your hip, stopping you.

One of your hands turns into a fist, banging against the bookcase as you curse, "Oh, for fuck's sake--ah!"

He thrusts deeper inside of you, rougher, for about three thrusts before he starts a faster pace. He knocks out a few surprised moans out of you, and then shushes you again, reprimanding you for losing your temper briefly, and you can kind of hear the enjoyment in his voice alongside the lust.

"Is that good enough for you now, little miss?"

You press one of your hands against your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds that keep escaping from your mouth, but it's hard when you're being fucked so good. You close your hazy eyes, focusing only on the feeling of his hips slamming against yours, how he repeatedly brushes against the soft spongy bundle of nerves, making you feel like your knees will buckle. He's thrusting inside you like he's trying to break you, and it feels so great that it makes you want to scream. But you're not supposed to, and that makes it all the more exciting.

Your voice gets louder without your permission, and you hope your one hand against your lips is able to keep it from carrying to the front. He certainly doesn't seem to mind, not when he's attacking the sweet spot behind your ear with his lips.

"P-please. Ah, fuck, please!" You're not sure what you're begging for. On one hand, you think you're begging for a break; a couple seconds to get yourself in order, so you don't embarrass the both of you by screaming out your pleasure in the back of some antique bookstore; on the other hand, you might be begging him for more, wanting him to completely consume you in pleasure. "K-Kento, please—!"

His hand leaves the bookshelf long enough to grab your chin, making you face him, "I thought I told you we needed to be quiet." He groaned, keeping face, before pressing his lips against yours, swallowing your moans as his thrusts became more aggressive. "Always so quick to break character, aren't you, my love?"

He says that as if he hadn't called you sweetheart with that lovestruck look in his eyes just a couple moments ago.

Though, any and every smart word was quickly fucked out of you as Nanami's hand drifted back to your clit, fingers much gentler than his hips, making your mind swirl at the difference. You hiccup soft moans into his mouth, kisses reduced to nothing but his lips pressed against your bottom lip as you slowly forget how to respond to it.

Muscles tensing as your orgasm approaches, you sing his name repeatedly against his lips, missing the syllables against your tongue having not said them at all while he thrust into you like you're his personal fuck toy. And Nanami loves your blissed-out face, hazy eyes trying their best to focus on him, mouth parted as if you're waiting for Nanami to put his tongue in your mouth, a small sliver of drool falling from the corner of your mouth as he fucks you so deep you forget to swallow.

"K-Ken, 'm com—ooh! I'm coming—"

When you come, Nanami presses his fingers into your mouth, giving you a taste of yourself and muffling the sounds as he works you through it. He keeps them there until your jaw gets loose after you ride out your orgasm. They return to their original position and he rubs your clit until you're shaking with oversensitivity, hand reaching down weakly to grab his wrist, begging silently for him to stop.

He doesn't give you much time to recover, he simply can't. You know he's pushed beyond his limits of patience, turning you around quickly, picking you up by hooking his hands around the back of your thigh, and thrusting into you.

One of your flats falls off your foot as his relentless thrusts continue, and you wonder just how this old bookcase is sturdy enough to handle the brute side of Nanami Kento, but said man must have realized your thoughts have drifted from him because he reaches between you to thumb at your clit again.

"Think only of me when I'm inside you."

You manage to stutter out a small apology, words mumbling with each jerk of his hips. You bury your face into his shoulder, hands gripping the back of his shirt so hard to think you might tear it. Both your arms and your cunt squeeze him tightly as you think that Nanami is a selfish, selfish man as he continues to push into your overstimulated body and forces you through another orgasm. You think that one definitely messed up the front of Nanami's pants, but you don't know for sure because he's still fucking you to his own release, so you can't even stop to check.

You bite into his neck, not caring about the fact you also bite into the fabric of his collar, just needing something to ground you and keep your whimpers from being full-out moans.

"Shit. Are you ready for me to fill you up, Y/N?" He groans in your ear, making you shudder and lock up against him. You nod, but he nuzzles the side of your head, prompting you for a response.

"Yes, yes, please, Kento, cum in me—fill me…"

"Good girl." He groans, hands moving from your thighs to your ass, pulling you into each thrust, favoring deep and hard thrusts, making sure he's as deep as possible in you before he finally releases, letting out a deep moan from his chest and burying his face in your neck.

The both of you are spent, melting into one another as you feel the blissful aftermath of your orgasms. Nanami rests his weight against you, letting the bookshelf hold the both of you up, kissing you softly and deeply, letting his hands roam against your sides, and you run yours through his hair that you can't believe you hadn't wildly messed up yet.

"Nanami? Y/N?"

You both look at each other with panicked looks on your faces as Iris's voice gets closer to the back of the store. Nanami quickly pulls out and puts you down, trying not to feel guilty by the discomforted moan you let out, trying to put his cock back into his pants. Luckily for the both of you, your second orgasm wasn't as messy as it felt, so with a quick untucking of his shirt, he could easily hide it. You try to put a little distance between the two of you, but the second you step away from the bookshelf, your legs instantly give out, and you collapse to your knees with a small yelp.

When Iris enters through the mouth of the aisle, all she sees is you sitting on the floor with an open book in your hands and Nanami standing a foot away from you, face buried in a book. However, if she looked a little closer, she'd see your face flushed with embarrassment and the subtle shake of Nanami's shoulders in laughter.

The game you two choose to play is a dangerous one, but it sure as hell is worth it.

#jjk #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami supremacy #nanami kento x reader #jjk nanami

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift Part 9 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Your first night at Frankies, yearning mostly . . . no hanky panky! (yet 👀)

Warnings: Talk of abuse, talk of death of loved ones

W/C: 2.2k

Spotify

Part 1 Part 10

Frankie was buzzing with adrenaline as he drove you and Manny back to the restaurant. His hand hurt slightly, but he couldn’t stop think about how damn goodit felt to punch Kurt in the face, how when he heard the fear in your voice, everything turned red. How it took everything not to crush the vermin under his boot. But, he would unpack those feelings later, preferably over a case of beer with the boys. They, of all people, would understand.

You got out of the truck to say goodbye to Manny, and Frankie didn’t miss how you rubbed your lower back, how even from where he sat, he could see the ring of a bruise blossoming around your wrist.

“Sorry that took so long,” you said, climbing back into the truck. Frankie glanced at the clock on the dash – barely five minutes had passed. “Are you completely sure it’s okay I stay with you?”

“I want you to stay,” Frankie said. “Please, don’t get it in your head that you’re an inconvenience. I know you well enough by now to see that’s exactly where you’re heading.”

You laughed weakly. “I hate that you’re right,” you said, “I’m just not used to having extra help.” Frankie nodded, and waited for you to continue. “For a second in there, before you and Manny came in . . .I was terrified. I forgot I wasn’t alone and I – thank you, for what you did in there. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come in when you did.”

You slumped back in your seat and closed your eyes.

“I think this whole thing got rid of my hangover, though,” you joked.

“You’re young enough that you can bounce back quickly from hangovers,” Frankie said, taking the obvious hint for a change in the subject.

“Please, you’re barely older than me,” you said. “You’re like, what? Thirty?”

“Thirty-two,” Frankie corrected.

“Oh my apologies, you’re ancient,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Frankie grinned and shook his head. It amazed him how easily you could still make a joke, despite everything you had been through today alone.

It was almost sunset when he pulled up to his home. Golden light splayed across your features, making you glow. Stunning. The thought was in Frankie’s mind before he could stop it. You turned to smile at him.

“Nice gnomes,” you said gesturing to the dozens of gnomes of varying sizes that were scattered around Frankie’s front garden. He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced.

“Thanks. My Abuelo used to give me one every Christmas, right up until he died last year.”

“I’m sorry,” you said your voice sincere, “I know how hard that is.”

Frankie shrugged, not wanting to talk about how after his Abuelo died, he made himself sick with grief. Instead, he chose to share something happier. “He used to hide things in them, since they’re all hollow. Sometimes it would be candy, or money. Once he hid my first iPod in one.”

“Sounds like he was a cool dude,” you said and Frankie nodded.

“He was the coolest,” Frankie agreed.

You were quiet for a few moments, holding your arms across your chest. The toll of the day was written plainly on your face, weariness lending itself to the dark circles under your eyes, to the way your shoulders curled inwards. Without thinking about it, Frankie wrapped his arms around you. You leant into the hug, burying your face into his neck. He rubbed your back gently, careful to avoid the spot he knew you were still hurting. You stood like that for a while, warmth leeching into him, and when you finally pulled away, you were almost quick enough to hide your damp eyes.

“Wanna go in?” Frankie asked, already feeling colder without you. He wanted to tug you back, hold you to him and not let go. You nodded, still not looking directly at him.

Inside, the house was cool and dark. Frankie tugged his cap off and placed it on a hook by the door, running a hand through his curls to fluff them up. He was suddenly more self-conscious than he had ever been before. He very rarely brought women back here, and when he did, he never liked them as much as he liked you.

He tried to imagine what you were thinking – were you grossed out at his unwashed breakfast plate sitting in the sink? Was the number of photos of family and friends that hung up on the walls and sat framed on every surface excessive? He didn’t remember seeing any photos like that at your apartment. But then, he also hadn’t been looking.

“It’s uh, not much,” he said rubbing the back of his neck.

“It suits you,” you said. Was it a compliment? Frankie wasn’t sure, until you continued. “Like, at first, it seems a little understated, but the more I look the more I see how you it all is.” You wandered over to a shelf stuffed with books and records, most of them coming from his old room at his parents when they had cleaned out their home a few years back.

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being nosy,” you said, tilting your head to read the spines. Most of the books were well loved classics – stuff that Frankie had read over and over until the covers became loose and pages began to fall out.

“Just don’t search the drawers in my bedroom, that’s where I keep all my vintage Playboys and a spare bag of mushrooms.”

You snorted with laughter and turned to face him properly. Your eyes were still puffy and red, but no longer teary. Frankie counted that as a victory. “You always struck me as more of an acid guy. Just like you��re striking me as a fan of Thai food?”

“Big fan, actually.”

“Excellent, I know this great place that delivers, I’ll pay.” When Frankie opens his mouth to protest, you hold a hand up silencing him. “Please, let me pay. I owe you big time for doing this, all of this, for me.”

Frankie eventually conceded, sensing that you were infinitely more stubborn than him. Thai food was ordered and delivered, the scent of the panang curry made Frankie’s mouth water. You sat across from him at the table, eyeing him. It took a few moment for Frankie to realise you had put one of his albums on – Erykah Badu, he quickly identified.

“Can I ask you something?” you said after swallowing a mouthful of pad Thai.

“Anything,” he said. Just don’t ask me how long I’ve wanted to fuck you.

“What’d you mean today, when you said it’s not my fault?”

Frankie wasn’t expecting that. “Well, all that stuff Kurt did – like trying to kill himself, that’s not your fault.” You shrugged, clearly unconvinced, so Frankie ploughed on. “It’s just a form of emotional manipulation. Do you remember Benny, the guy your friend went home with last night? His sister, Eve, kind of went through something similar. Her partner would threaten to hurt himself and her if she tried to leave. It wasn’t until she ended up in hospital that she told Benny and Will what was happening.”

You looked horrified. “Is she okay?”

Frankie made a wavering motion in the air with his hand. “Some – most days are better than others. She moved to Portland, met a really nice lady, they’re getting married in the summer.”

“Good for her,” you murmured.

“But like I said, it’s not your fault. None of it is. He’s the one to blame, if he tries anything. He’s in control of his actions, you aren’t.” Frankie’s voice was firm, and he refused to look away from you as he spoke. He needed, more than anything, for you to understand that.

The next few hours passed quietly, sitting next to each other on his worn couch, Netflix half forgotten while you drifted in and out of sleep. Eventually, when the sky turned from black to grey to pink, Frankie showed you the spare room and gave you some privacy, knowing you probably needed some time to yourself after the gruelling day. He knew that sometimes all a person needed was some time alone to process. He sat on the couch and pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket.

Andi, the waitress, had given him her number, followed by three x’s and a winky face. Once, Frankie would have opened his messenger app and texted her, asking her out. But now. . . he found he wasn’t at all interested. He crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash.

~*~

How long is too long to spend in someone else’s shower? Five minutes? Ten? Until the hot water runs out? Vanilla and honey body wash? Oh, shit that smells delicious.

You kept your thoughts light, avoiding the darkness that brewed in the forefront of your mind. You felt like you were going through a billion crisis’s, so instead of focusing on any, you decided to focus on none.

You thought back to Frankie’s intense gaze as he spoke to you at dinner, how incredibly sexy it had been. You were shocked you could think something like that after the day you’d had, but the thoughts had entered unwelcome into your mind. You tucked them away for later, when you weren’t so close to him and wouldn’t feel burning shame if you looked at him.

Stepping out of the shower, you took a deep breath and decided to truly inspect the . . . damage that was done today. Your wrist was already bruising and ached slightly when you thought too much about it. You faced your back to the mirror and twisted, grimacing at the sight of the damage Kurt had caused. Your lower back, like your wrist, was bruised black and purple. You quickly wrapped a towel around yourself, hiding the damage.

Deep breath, Spud, you’re stronger than you think.

Your grandfathers voice echoed in your ears. It was what he would say to you whenever you were hurt – just fallen out of a tree and fractured your ankle, sliced your finger open cutting onions, sobbing because the boy you had convinced yourself was your soulmate at fifteen just dumped you the day after you lost your virginity to him, it was always your grandfathers voice saying those words. Your heart ached with missing him.

The room Frankie had showed you was more of a home gym with a bed shoved into the corner than anything else. There was still a scattering of things that were undeniably Frankie in the room: a pile of old boots with holes in the canvas, a greasy looking toolbox, a poster for the Brooklyn Nets with players that looked like they had wandered out of the 90s. You didn’t know much about basketball but decided to at least keep an eye on when the Nets lost so you could rag on Frankie about it.

You grabbed your bags, assessing what Manny had grabbed. God, he’s good, you thought, realising he had packed you everything you needed. You dressed and grabbed your phone, breathing a sigh of relief when it was free of messages from Kurt. You typed out a quick message to Manny.

You are truly the most amazing friend anyone can ask for <3 thanks for packing my stuff.

Then, after a few moments, you sent one to Sara.

I broke up with Kurt, should I be sadder about it?

It was 7 in the morning, but within a minute your phone was buzzing with a call from her.

“Tell me you’re not lying to me,” her voice was hushed. You could hear her moving, a door clicking shut.

“I’m not lying. It’s done.” You laid back on the bed and closed your eyes. “It was a fucking nightmare to do though.”

“Spill, what happened? Are you okay?” Sara’s voice was louder now. You gave her the rundown of everything that had happened, from the lunchtime confession to the actual breakup to how you were now sleeping in Frankie’s spare room.

“Wait – Frankie? Benny’s friend?”

“Are you still with Benny?” This was different: Sara had a policy of one night only – anything more and she claimed they’d fall in love with her.

“Of course, he has a massive dick. But back to you missy, you’re staying with Frankie?”

You sighed. “Yeah, just until I get the keys to my new place.”

“Are you gonna fuck him?” Sara sounded hopeful.

“Oh, my god! No!”

“Aw, c’mon, rebound sex is good for the soul.”

“Maybe with strangers in seedy bars who have half a chance of giving me the clap. Not with someone I-”

“-Have a huge thing for. Please, I saw it the moment you spotted him at fight night. You’re so hung up on this guy and Benny says-”

“This conversation is over, it’s my bedtime. I love you and you’re wrong.” You hung up quickly, cheeks burning with the lie. Did you want to have sex with Frankie? Desperately. At the most inappropriate of times, like when you heard the rumble of his voice through the window at work, like when you caught a glimpse of his beautiful, unique side profile, like when you were alone and allowed your thoughts to wander to what could be under his jeans.

You sighed, frustrated with yourself and rolled onto your side. If you were braver, more sure that his attraction matched yours, you would have gone to his room, crawled into bed beside him, let whatever was meant to be, be. But right now, you weren’t brave. You felt like you had used up all your courage quota for the year in a single day, which was a ridiculous sentiment.

So instead of going to Frankie’s room, like the pulsing in your underwear desperately wanted you to, you closed your eyes and tried to sleep.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209 @quica-quica-quica @pintsizemama @phoenix-of-loki

#triple frontier #the night shift #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader

[awhmilkywey]

burgers and fries | t. carrick |

pairing & genre: tobias carrick x f!mc (ava dahl) — fluffy as hell

warnings: one curse word | english is not my first language

word count: 2.4k

request | prompt | neither | challenge

tags: @usuallyamazinglyaverage ; @perriewinklenerdie ; @cyb3r-kat ; @moonsoltice ; @romewritingshop ; @tsrookie ; @hedwigsbixch

a/n: a special thank you to @usuallyamazinglyaverage @perriewinklenerdie and @cyb3r-kat for allowing me the use of their characters (anna dawson, claire herondale and bianca hemgrove, respectivel) and a bonus to perrie for being generally awesome and helping me out with this fic. You can thank her for the Romeo line!

Ava has a history of flouting protocol to assist her patients.

The machine whirred to life, shooting a steady stream of murky liquid into the small paper cup. Ava skimmed her medical chart while she waited. Her patient was a young adult who came in with severe chest pain and discoloured skin around her calves. The primary doctor wrote down that earlier scans ruled out heartburn as well as pericarditis. She reached for her coffee and took a cautious sip. The blemishes could point towards a blood clot—deep vein thrombosis, perhaps? It could quickly develop into a pulmonary embolism if left untreated.

The nurses' station was relatively quiet when she approached.

“Could you order a lung scan and a chest X-ray for my patient, please?”

Marlene took the chart with a professional nod. Her exhaustion matched her own.

Ava murmured a quiet thank you and tossed her cup in the bin. The results wouldn't be back for a couple hours. If her hunch was correct then she would most likely need to page the surgical department. For now, however, her rounds were finished and she could take a breather.

Her face twisted into a frown as she remembered her bag was still in the conference room. Her confrontation with Harper ensured she had been too uncomfortable to remain there. Ava decided to take the stairs one at a time. Saying she was dreading their next meeting was an understatement. They would need to have a serious conversation with Bloom. Ethan breaching protocol was on him alone. A conversation with Harper was in order as well; earlier she had been caught by surprise but she wouldn't let that kind of treatment stand. Barging in, wrongfully accusing her without any evidence whatsoever, yelling and refusing to believe her even when the culprit was standing right there—Ava wondered when the cool renowned surgeon became an unruly child.

The revelation that Harper still saw her as a reckless intern made her incredibly angry. Her one mistake happened over two years ago and she came forward to shoulder the blame. Ava had grown since then, both as a doctor and as a person. Her near-death experience also served to put things into perspective, to say the least. She would always have the best interest of her patients at heart but she would never again jeopardize her career so foolishly.

That thought brought her back to Ethan. Frankly she didn't recognise him any more. He came back from the Amazon a different man—one she wasn't sure she liked all that much. Their tentative relationship hadn't stood a chance. Him being her attending was difficult enough, then she was facing the possibility of being suspended, and just as she thought they could make it work after all, Naveen promoted her and Ethan was her superior once more. He maintained a painfully professional demeanour around her from there on out. Ava wasn't doing too great during that time.

And when her intern year came to an end, he disappeared. He wasn't answering her calls nor her texts and her trips to his apartment were fruitless. She found out he was out of the country through WHO's Instagram account. She stopped bothering afterwards.

Ava shook her head, red curls bouncing over her shoulders. Dwelling on the past wasn't helpful. Especially when the Ethan from her memories didn't correlate with the Ethan she was currently working with. Her most recent conversations with him left a sour taste in her mouth.

The conference room wasn't as empty as she expected.

“Heading out?” Tobias sent her a warm smile.

“I've some free time to kill.”

He nodded in understanding. “Holding up okay?”

Ava hesitated. It occurred to her that he was the only person she was truly comfortable with on the team. The only one who'd never underestimated her or made her feel lesser.Tobias was the person who either supported her suggestions or countered them with his own logical arguments and used both as teaching opportunities.

“I've been through worse,” she replied, shrugging non-committally.

He scowled. “What Harper did was uncalled for.”

Ava offered him a wry smile. “I have a history, don't you see?”

“Oh you mean the history of being civil to Bloom even though you want to punch his face in?” he asked innocently.

A laugh bubbled up in her chest and he soon followed with his own deep chuckle.

“There's this place downtown.” He sobered up but was still grinning. “One of my favourites, if you want to check it out.”

“What's in it for me?” Ava raised a playful eyebrow.

His eyes darkened, tongue briefly flickering out. “Good music, good books. We could get dinner after.”

Ava swallowed. “Sounds fantastic.”

Tobias' intense look softened. “It's a date,” he said cheekily.

She laughed again and swatted at his arm. “Lead the way, Romeo, before I change my mind.”

Bantering with him was easier than it should've been. Knowing how laid-back he could be when comfortable made her notice more about how he carried himself around the rest of the team. It gave her a small thrill to be able to witness that side of him.

Tobias drove her to a time-worn shop tucked away between a colourful diner and a boarded-up building. An old sign hung over the entrance reading The Starlight Den. The outer walls were covered in messy chalky drawings and splashes of peeling paint, broken crayons and plastic buckets sitting to one side. He laid a hand on her lower back, gently guiding her through the battered wooden door.

“I used to come here all the time as a kid,” he commented, glancing fondly around the shop.

Neutral colours predominated with the occasional vibrant hue flashing here and there. Bookshelves lined the left side, brimming with works from classics to comic books. Customers could settle down on various armchairs and sofas, reading under the light of several dimmed lamps. Ava slid her eyes from the makeshift coffee bar to the vintage posters on the opposite wall. A soft tune drifted from the gramophone in the corner. Neat stacks of vinyl records were arranged in polished boxes in the centre. A counter held several players for general use nearby.

“This is a dream come true,” Ava marvelled, running her fingertips across the book spines.

Tobias hummed, reaching to pluck a comic from the shelf. He presented it to her with a flourish. Spider-Man was holding a man clad in green on the cover.

“First introduction to Spidey. Also the first comic I ever read,” he disclosed, absently thumbing through the pages.

“I didn't know you read comics.”

Tobias cocked his head. “Haven't read them in a long while but they were a big part of my childhood.”

Ava cast a look about. “I can see why you'd like to come here.”

Two teenagers were hanging around a record player, giggling quietly to each other, while a sharply dressed man made small talk with the handsome man behind the register. The overall atmosphere was quite cosy. It felt a bit like home. When she returned her wandering gaze to Tobias, he offered her a knowing smile.

“I have an idea,” he announced with a quick clap of his hands. “We each pick a book and a record for the other. I have a player back at my apartment.”

Ava crossed her arms. “Is this a ploy to get me into your bed, Carrick?”

He raised his palms up in mock surrender. “Absolutely not. Just a ploy to get a pretty woman eating take-out on my couch.”

“From that diner next door?”

“Rosa makes the best burgers and milkshakes in Boston.” He gave a solemn nod, cracking up in the following beat.

Ava contemplated him. “It's a date.”

He lit up with a boyish smile.

She didn't know much about his likes and dislikes given that all their interactions revolved around their work. Browsing the bookcases, she opted to get him a copy of The Little Prince. She remembered her papa reading it to her when she was sick or when grief was heavier than most days. She picked up A Day at the Raceson her way to the counter.

“Don't peek,” Tobias warned after their purchases were done. “I'm going to get our food and then we can head back.”

“I want nuggets.” Ava blushed when her stomach growled.

He patted her head. “As you wish, m'lady.”

Ava watched him walk away, unable to remember the last time she was this happy. Tobias was so carefree. He didn't allow their work to burden him, always trying to finding the silver lining in each case, and refused to let it interfere with his life outside the hospital. It was a breath of fresh air, compared to her previous relationship with Ethan. Tobias was light where Ethan was dark.

The ride back to his flat was mostly quiet. He tapped on the wheel along with the song playing on the radio—she vaguely recognised it as being a new Ariana Grande single. She, on the other hand, was more occupied with staring out the window and trying to control her nerves. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, making her almost want to throw up. Tobias was undeniably attractive, charming and witty. And they were going to be alone at his place.

Ava choked on air.

He was quick to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hey, I got you.” At her lack of response, he slid his hand further and began to rub her back, eyes briefly leaving the road to look her over.

“I'm good,” she gasped.

His touch continued to burn her skin until the car was parked in his garage.

Tobias' flat was messier than she expected but not in the dirty sense of the word. It was a sort of organised chaos that breathed life into the walls. The coffee table peeked from beneath a mountain of medical journals, two blankets were thrown haphazardly on the couch with a pillow half-fallen on the carpet, like he had dozed off while reading. The telly was still on as well and she paused to watch Jessica Aniston and Matt LeBlanc acting on the screen.

He steered her towards the kitchen.

“I forgot to clean, sorry.” He seemed unusually sheepish.

“Mine's not much better, believe me,” she reassured him, squeezing his arm. She took the food bags from him and set them on the table. “Kitchen or living room?”

“Living room!” he called out from the pantry, coming out with a package of napkins and a container of assorted candy.

He had stored away the blankets and the pillow by the time she brought the food to the coffee table, journals stashed away in the corner bookcase. Ava noticed that he also changed into a looser tee, his biceps highlighted underneath the artificial lighting. He grabbed their purchases from the shop and turned to her with a bright smile.

“I realised we don't actually know each other that well,” he said, grabbing the book from the bag, “and I would like to remedy that.”

Ava accepted the gift, lips quirking up at the sight of the blue cover. “I've never read The Great Gatsby,” she informed.

His smile widened. “Let me know what you think when you're done, yeah?”

“I got you this one.” God she was nervous. “I, uh—I didn't know what you liked so I figured I'd give you one of my favourites. After my mum died... my dad used to read it to me as a kid.”

Tobias met her gaze and she was surprised to see him so serious. “I—Thank you, Ava. It means a lot that you would share that with me.”

She needed to look away. Was he getting closer?

Her stomach growled again.

“Eat,” he murmured, slowly leaning back. “I'll put the records on.”

He returned to the couch as the beginnings of Dancing Queenfilled the room. Ava beamed.

“How did you know?”

He popped a fry in his mouth. “I may have cheated on this one. Claire told me you were a fan.”

The mention of her friend warmed her heart. “I didn't know you and C were buddies.”

Tobias rubbed the back of his neck. “We're not, not really. I, um, went to ask her how you were after what happened. Anna and Hemgrove were gone already, so...”

His concern sent the butterflies into a frenzy. Ava focused on her burger so he wouldn't see the deep red staining her cheeks.

It was only two episodes into Friends that she noticed the missing fries in her plate. An indignant yelp was muffled by the food in her mouth. Tobias blindly reached for another one but she slapped his hand away, earning her a surprised squawk from the man. Ava made a move for his plate and was stopped when he put his arm between them, lifting the other up so she wouldn't touch his food.

“Oi! That's not fair!” she protested, not realising she was half-sitting on his lap as she tried to get her fries back.

“All's fair when you're hungry, sweetheart,” he retorted, laughing at her worthless attempts.

The loud sound of porcelain breaking was unmistakable. In an effort to get closer, she had pressed against his chest, their bodies practically glued together, and the twist of his wrist weakened his grip on the plate. Ava sunk into him in defeat and promptly peeped as her groin made contact with his.

“Shit, sorry Av—nghh...” He cut off with a strangled moan.

Ava hurried to relieve the pressure of her thigh on his crotch, feeling mortified.

“I'm sorry—” “Wait—” they spoke at the same time, both floundering.

“Just—wait.” Tobias held onto her hips, heaving out a frustrated sigh.

She would never admit to anyone that no, she very much did not want to move.

Except maybe to the girls, who would most definitely grill her tomorrow.

They remained in that exact position for a couple silent moments. Neither sure what to say nor how to act upon the revelation that they were entirely too comfortable physically for two people who were supposed to be just work acquaintances.

Up close, his eyes looked more green than brown. Ava told herself that she had bigger things to worry about.

But it was a pretty colour.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he quietly confessed. “I have to know, though. Is—is there anything between you and Ethan?”

She let out a shaky breath, touching her forehead to his. “Not since last year.”

He gave a short nod, raising a hand to cup her face. “Could there be anything between us?”

“Why don't you kiss me and find out?” she whispered against his lips.

She felt his smile before he did.

#tobias carrick #open heart #choices: stories you play #choices open heart #open heart tobias #choices #fanfiction #f: burgers and fries

[erensproudsimp]

Masquerade

Eren Jeager x reader oneshot

⚠Sexual Content Ahead⚠

Summary : Attending a ball on behalf of your sick mother, you meet a fine gentleman there leading to unexpected ~things~.

Word count : 2.4 k

'Claire de lune' by Claude Debussy was floding the hall into a fanciful series of secrecy as everyone hid their identities behind a masque. Sitting by the counter of the bar, a glass of wine on your left hand, you witnessed your best friend, Sasha, being a complete dork at the open buffet accompanied by Connie and Jean. How she contradicted the regal delicacy of the atmosphere really brought a smile to your face as you watched her snatch a chicken wing from Connie.

.

.

.

.

"Come on Sasha! It's going to be fun I swear", you begged your roommate into coming with you in this masquerade ball that you had to attend on behalf of your mother because she was feeling somewhat under the weather and you didn't want to be there alone.

"But a masquerade ball sounds sooooo booorriinngg y/n", Shasha dragged her words while munching on some potato chips.

"There will be an all you can eat open buffet unless you really don't want to come with me then so be it I'll go alone", you turned your back on her crossing your hands and smirked knowing that the brunette can't say no to this.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR Y/N? WEAR THAT DRESS AND LET'S GO", she jumped as soon as she heard you say that proving you right.

"LET'S GET TO DECKING UP!"

She wore a pretty reddish brown knee-length dress and a brown mask which suited her perfectly while you wore (fantasise your dress) with f/c mask

You decided to invite Connie and Jean to the ball to give them a break from their mundane everyday school life who would keep her company as well to prevent her from dying from boredom.

The clock struck 06 00 pm when y'all left the campus in Jean's car. Thirty minutes later the car reached a magnificent vintage styled mansion located near the sea. Apparently the ball was organised by Grisha Jeager to celebrate his wife, Carla's, birthday. Your mother was her best friend which is why she had requested that you handed her the gift on her special day itself. Jean parked the vehicle and you came out taking a deep breath of the fresh air.

Adjusting your masks respectively the four of you stepped into the premises. What came in sight was simply mistical. Everyone was dressed in gowns and suits while a soft classical music was playing in the background. The chandelier being the main source of light softly illuminated the room. Candles were set almost everywhere bringing a sweet scent of floral combined with a distant wooden smell. Without wasting any time Sasha sprinted to the food with Connie and Jean ran after them to make sure they're behaving and not causing any chaos.

For the time being your main objective was to hand over the gift so that you could enjoy the party. You found Carla after a few minutes of looking around. She was looking wonderful in a flowing golden white dress complimented with a white mask. She recognized you instantly as your mother was always talking about you to her.

"Happy birthday Mrs. Jeager. My mother offers you her sincere apologies that she couldn't be with you on this special day", you said giving her the gift.

"Please drop the formalities and call me Carla and oh no worries my dear, tell her I wish her a quick recovery so that we could meet as soon as possible. Now go and enjoy the party to the fullest", Carla cheerfully said.

"Of course and thank you umm Carla", you hesitated not realizing that there was someone who was gazing at you since the moment you entered the ballroom.

After that you joined your friends in the buffet to eat and have fun when suddenly you craved wine. Excusing yourself from them you walked to the bar and requested for some red wine which you sipped while looking at your surroundings with a gentle smile resting on your face.

You didn't realise a man was approaching you until his shadow fell upon you. At first glance at him your body seized. This man was.. gorgeous. Though you couldn't clearly see his face with his black mask on but you just knew that he was handsome underneath it. He was wearing a back suit his hair tied back in a manbun with strands falling on his face.

"Umm Hello?"

You were brought back to earth and when you realised that you were staring at him for quite a while, your face turning beat red.

"Hey", you uttered quickly trying not to further embarrass yourself.

"Do you mind me sitting next to you?"he asked in his hand a glass of wine too.

"Not at all, go ahead", you waved your hand.

"So, how do you find the ball so far?" he questioned you taking a sip of the liquid in his glass.

"Absolutely lovely. To be honest it's my first attending a ball so I was so nervous that I made my friends tag along with me", you replied looking into his green eyes.

"I'm glad you're liking it. My mom really goes the extra mile when it comes to things like this. "

"Wait your mom? Mrs. Jeager' s your mother?" you said bewilderedly.

"Hell yeah she is",he stated looking adoringly at the lady in question joyfully talking with the guests, "So what's your name?"

"Y/n, what about you?"

"Eren."

"Pleasure to meet you Eren", you raised your glass, "Cheers to this acquaintance?"

"Cheers," you both said clicking your glasses together.

Soon you two were having conversations after conversations and you realised that you really began to like this guy.

Out of the blue, Sasha came up to you looking pretty tired and full. She noticed Eren's presence and asked if you would return to the campus with them or would rather stay longer. You looked at Eren who suggested to give you a lift which you happily accepted as you would be spending more time with him.

As such Sasha, Connie and Jean left after saying bye.

Eren cleared his throat and proceeded, "There's going to be a dance later, do you have a partner?"

"I'm literally alone right now so of course not dummy, "laughingly you told him.

For a second you swear you saw a red tint on his cheeks.

"Well then, Would you like to offer this dance to me m'lady?" Eren offered his hand.

You nodded and without further ado he took you to the centre of the ballroom. One hand on your waist and the second held your hand gently. Eren was beaming with joy and his contagious smile spread to you too as you could feel your lips pull into their smile. Once the musicians saw you two they began playing a slow song which signaled the beginning of the dance. Several other couples joined in but you could barely notice them as you were drowning into his mesmerizing green eyes.

Butterflies filled your stomach as he pulled your body closer to him yet holding you so gently as though you were a fragile flower that could break anytime. His eyes were fixated on yours and you still wondered how he looked under the mask. He twirled you and took you into an embrace. You could feel his hot breath fanning as your faces were inches away from each other but both of you stayed in the same position as everyone was dancing around. You placed your hand on his cheek caressing it gently with your thumb as you felt the sexual tension increasing second by second.

"Can I kiss you?"

Though there was loud noise around you, you heard those words as clear as a cloudless sky. At that moment time stopped. You could feel the beat of your heart so hard and clearly. Without wasting anymore second, you pulled his tie and crashed your lips against his.

He was taken aback by your boldness but held you tighter and leaned in.

Soon enough the gentle tenderness of his lips turned into a passionate fiery makeout that sent electrics down your spine. Realising that you two were in public, Eren pulled you into the nearest room he could find and locked it.

Muffled music could still be heard through the closed door. The room was elegantly modern with celtic furniture alongside a bed in the middle and led lights which Eren turned to red.

Finally he took off that mask. You were right about him being extremely attractive as you stayed still to admire his beauty.

"What?" he tilted his head which you found utmost adorable.

"Nothing just looking at how beautiful you are," you admitted.

Eren's face went through a fifty shades of red.

Taking this into advantage you pinned him to the wall with your body pressed against his and arms on each side of his torso as you looked at him deep in the eyes. His one hand was wrapped around your waist and second one tilted your chin as he locked his lips with yours.

He pulled back to untie your mask. When he removed it, he stared at you because you were the prettiest angel he had ever seen.

"Wow, you're gorgeous," he complimented skilfully unzipping your dress which one side fell down your shoulder as you let it slide off you.

Eren's breath hitched as he stared at you in your black laced underwear. He couldn't seem to be able to process things as his mind was clouded with all the dirty things he could do to you. You proceeded to unbutton his shirt and almost ripped it off him. You couldn't tear your eyes off his well-built toned body.

Neediness growing he took you in bridal style and threw you on the bed. From the floor he picked up his tie and tied your hands together with it above your head. Taking a bottle of wine from the shelves, Eren opened it with a pop. He put it in his mouth and kissed you to transfer the liquid in your mouth. Drops fell down from your neck to your breasts. Eren licked them off you.

His hand went your bra's fastener, "Are you okay if I remove it?" You hummed to give consent.

He unclasped it to reveal your top body bare. He admired your figure before taking one bud into his mouth.

You threw your head back and looked at the ceiling only to see that there was a mirror right above. Your eyes widen at this.

From the mirror you saw Eren spilling wine on your body. The sensation was cool at first until he started licking it off you. The view was so erotic. You could see him drag his tongue across your boobs. Slowly the licks became kisses as it went lower from your stomach to your folds. He held your tied hands in place so that you wouldn't move away.

He kissed your core right through your underwear and you couldn't help but let out a small moan. Hearing that Eren got turned on and dragged his lips from the inside of your thighs back to your covered slick cunt. He removed the cloth and without warning his mouth was onto you. You screamed his name.

You flushed when you looked into the mirror and saw Eren clearly between your legs with your hands tied. You grabbed his hair and played with it to signal him to continue.

"Don't stop, don't stop,"you repeated as your lips were quivering.

He rubbed little circles with his tongue around your opening. You could feel him smile down there as he sucked your clit indicating that he was enjoying the effect he had on you. This threw you in a rollercoaster of pleasure.

"Fuck Eren don't stop," you gasped as you felt the knot in your stomach starting to unravel. Eren continued to play around leading you closer to your orgasm.

"Cum for me y/n, go ahead release everything you've got to me. "

This was the last straw as you came all over his face.

"You taste delicious,"Eren said licking your juices from his lip.

You were still shaking and Eren came up to you to kissed you so that you could taste yourself on him. This felt so sinful.

Stabilizing your breath you switched positions with him making you on top and unleashed your hands with the help of your mouth. You could feel how hard he was through his pants. You pulled them down to free his bulge.

You grinded on him slowly as you dragged your hands on his abbs.

"Y/n stop teasing me," Eren moaned.

You took his dick in your hands and spread the precum oozing out with your finger. Eren whined. You loved the control you were having over him.

Sucking the tip then dragging your tongue up and down the shaft made Eren whimper. Unexpectedly you put his member into your mouth and began sucking him while your hands were playing with his balls.

"Y/n, "Eren purred your name.

Slowing you picked up speed and watched him fall into the mercy of your touch. Shortly after he released inside your mouth. He watched you swallow every single drop which turned him on more. You kissed his shaking lips to make him taste himself like he did with you.

Again he switched positions to make him on top. He positioned his dick in front of your entrance.

"Are you okay with us doing it?" he asked for consent.

"100% sure"

Eren inserted himself in you slowly and waited for you to adjust to his size. Once your hyperventilated breathing calmed you told him it was okay to move which he started at a slow pace. You could feel his veins pulsating inside you. However, you couldn't take it the slowburn anymore, you wanted more of him. No, you wanted all of him.

"Eren please go faster", you begged.

"Your wish is my command m' lady, "as he picked up speed and nuzzled in the crook of your neck. You put your hands in his hair and pulled it while the other was busy making marks on his back with your nails.

Looking at the mirror you saw the whole scenario. The marks on his back was so attractive and made you feel powerful to be marking him. You watched as you both came at the same time.

Eren collapsed himself next to you and fell into a deep slumber. You chuckled and removed his hair from his face.

You cuddled closer to him and covered the both of you with the bedsheets.

End.

Thank you for reading :)

#eren yeager #eren jaeger #snk eren #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren x reader #aot #attack on titan #snk smut #smut #eren supremacy #eren smut #shingeki no kyoujin eren #eren jäger #snk x you #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #aot ff #aot smut #erensproudsimp #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin imagine #aot imagines #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x y/n #attack on titan smut #aot x reader #aot x y/n

[katiesclassicbooks]

Currently Reading: Quicksand by Junichiro Tanizaki 

#Quicksand #Junichiro Tanizaki #Japanese Literature #Japanese Classics #1920's #Vintage Red Spine Classics

[newmusickarl]

Album & EP Recommendations

If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power by Halsey

Halsey’s evolution across her career has been quite something to witness. Having begun her career in pure pop territory, her artistry has developed over time with each new record seeing the American singer-songwriter up the ambition and scope of her music. Now with this her fourth album, Halsey has gone bigger than ever, teaming up with Nine Inch Nails members and Oscar-winning composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross for her boldest work to date.

Produced entirely by Reznor and Ross, Halsey describes this new record as “a concept album about the joys and horrors of pregnancy and childbirth.” Naturally with any concept record there is going to be a cinematic feel, however Halsey has gone one step further and even delivered a full theatrical film to accompany the album, the trailer for which you can watch above. Although I am yet to see the film, there is no doubt that the musical portion is a mightily ambitious and accomplished project, with each song seamlessly segueing into the next despite the array of styles and genres across each track.

It may still be a pop record at the heart, but with the masterful touch of Reznor and Ross, Halsey also brings in some industrial rock elements, as well as a bit of pop punk in places too. However, it is not just sonically that Halsey pushes the boundaries but also thematically as well, using the album’s concept to press the issue of feminism and misogyny within the lyrics. Arguably what’s most striking about this record though is how tightly constructed everything is here – under the watchful eye of Reznor and Ross, the dramatic production is inch-perfect.

Most importantly, the songs here are just fantastic, from the religious imagery and glistening synths that lace the wonderful melody of Bells of Santa Fe, to the raw, grungy guitars of You asked for this. There’s also the atmospheric piano ballad 1121, where Halsey really flexes her impressive vocal cords. Pulsating, stylish electro-pop single I am not a woman, I’m a god is another standout. Once you have been amazed by all of this, the gentle plucking and raindrop like xylophone of stunning closer Ya’aburnee arrives to really blow things away.

In a year packed full of outstanding pop records, Halsey has delivered, for my money, one of the best of the lot. With Reznor and Ross holding the reigns, they help Halsey deliver on her epic vision with both style and control. It’s one thing to attempt a record like this, it’s another thing to pull it off as expertly and vibrantly as this – hats off for this one!

Listen here

Screen Violence by CHVRCHES

Also delivering their fourth album this week was Scottish synth-pop group CHVRCHES who, whilst predominantly maintaining their vintage sound, have lyrically pushed themselves into darker territory on this new record. Probably their finest work since their debut, frontwoman Lauren Mayberry takes no prisoners as she tackles sexism and misogyny, calling upon her own experiences within the industry to really illustrate the issues being put front and centre.  

This is highlighted best on electric single Good Girls, a track Mayberry wrote “after listening to some friends arguing about the present-day implications of loving certain problematic male artists – I was struck by the lengths that people would go to in order to excuse their heroes and how that was so juxtaposed to my own experiences in the world.”

Other highlights include He Said She Said, a glistening synth-driven pop banger that’s contrasted against razor-sharp lyrics with a defiant message at its core – catchy, but also powerful and thought-provoking. There’s also the superb collaboration with The Cure legend Robert Smith, How Not to Drown, which is a moody, atmospheric, and synth-soaked belter of a track. Although it is incredible right the way through, the real spine-tingling moment comes during the song’s outro thanks to the ghostly vocals of Smith being cast over some hauntingly melodic guitars. Outside of the singles, the rawness of heartbreaking closer Better If You Don’t leaves the biggest impression.

All in all, this album ranks amongst their best work and although it may not be quite as dramatic or impressionable as Halsey’s album, there’s still plenty to which you’ll want to digest and ultimately keep returning.

Listen here

How Long Do You Think It’s Gonna Last? By Big Red Machine

The National’s Aaron Dessner and Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon have certainly kept themselves busy over lockdown. It seems they weren’t satisfied with just taking Taylor Swift’s music to incredible new heights on 2020’s folklore and evermore, as they have now also released their second album under their Big Red Machine guise. The most noticeable thing about this second record is that the duo have extended their collaboration further this time around, bringing in renowned artists such as Ben Howard, Sharon Van Etten, Lisa Hannigan and Fleet Foxes, as well as two more collaborations with Miss Swift herself.

Given the talent involved, it is no surprise that this makes for a really special and stunning collection of songs. There’s wonderful electro-folk track Mimi, which sees singer-songwriter Ilsey Juber join Justin Vernon on lead vocal duties. Phoenix sees Robin Pecknold of Fleet Foxes and Anaïs Mitchell join in for a wonderful, horn-backed number. This track in fact isn’t the only time Anaïs Mitchell steals the show, as her beautiful, soothing vocal performances on opener Latter Days and closer New Auburn arguably provide the two best moments of the entire album.

The two tracks with Taylor Swift are also fantastic, with Renegade offering a sweet, pop cut that wouldn’t be out of place on either of Swift’s last two records. The better of the two though is Birch, a piano-driven, string-tinged ballad which sees Swift simply providing back-up vocals to Vernon’s haunting folky croons. It’s stunning and possibly my new favourite collaboration between the three artists.

Ultimately this is just a superb album, with Dessner and Vernon thriving alongside their chosen collaborators for a collection of songs that will frequently both move and astound you.

Listen here

Donda by Kanye West

Easily the most talked about album of the week, after several launch events and many, many delays, Kanye West finally released his long-awaited tenth studio album, Donda. Now anyone who knows me knows that I am not a fan of excessive, bloated albums, so with Donda clocking in at almost 2 hours long it was always going to struggle to win me over.

As expected, this is another West project that struggles with inconsistency, with moments of brilliance balanced out with plenty of moments that ultimately underwhelm. Although it has more high points than Ye and the production is more polished than Jesus Is King, there is no track as good as Ghost Town and sonically I found it less inspired than Jesus Is King in many ways. I’m not sure just yet if this is indeed the worst West album, but it is certainly down there in the bottom half for me.

That said, there are still some great moments to be found here. Once you get passed the massively irritating Donda Chant opener (honestly, so painful!), the Jay-Z featuring Jail offers an anthemic rock-influenced gem to get the album started properly. From there The Weeknd featuring Hurricane, the Lauryn Hill sampling Believe What I Say, the heavenly melody of Kid Cudi feature Moon and the organ-backed closer No Child Left Behind provide some of the other highlights. However possibly the finest moment comes in the form of Jesus Lord, a 9-minute epic that sees West deliver some of his best bars in years, returning to the social-consciousness that made him a star in the first place.

If you are a fan of West’s recent gospel-influenced work, then this album will reward you for your patience if you stick with it. For me, although there are some moments I enjoyed, the length was just too much, with this album having the same inconsistency problem that The Life of Pablo had but without reaching the same heights as that album did when it was at its best. Disappointing, but still somewhat worthwhile.

Listen here

The Awesome Album by Mouse Rat

And finally on the albums front, if like me you are a big Parks & Recreation fan, you’ll be pleased to hear that Chris Pratt’s fictional band from the show, Mouse Rat, have finally released their debut album this week. Featuring classics such as 5,000 Candle In The Wind and The Pit, this one is a lot of fun for fans of the show.

Listen here

Tracks of the Week

Good Ones by Charli XCX

Coming off the back of the definitive lockdown album How I’m Feeling Now that earned her both a Mercury Prize nomination and a place in my Top 5 albums of 2020, Charli XCX has returned with a new synth-driven banger that packs in an insanely catchy hook and wonderful 80s vibes.

Listen here

Family Ties by Baby Keem & Kendrick Lamar

Also making his return this week was King Kendrick who delivered a fantastic new collaboration with his cousin Baby Keem. Over a brilliant horn-driven beat, the two family members go toe-to-toe and bar-to-bar across this concise hip-hop banger.

Listen here

Alone by Rag N Bone Man & Nothing But Thieves

A remix of a track from Rory Graham’s latest album Life By Misadventure, this version sees Conor Mason of Nothing But Thieves join in on vocals, along with some triumphant rock production that replaces the stripped back nature of the album cut.

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Spirit Power & Soul by Johnny Marr

The brilliant first track from his forthcoming new EP, Spirit Power & Soul finds legendary guitarist Johnny Marr in fine form, sonically calling back to his days with Bernard Sumner in Electronic. Built on a masterful central riff, pulsating synths and a big anthemic chorus, it’s a belter!

Listen here

Nothing Else Matters by Chris Stapleton

And finally this week, we’ve had plenty of great, unique covers of Nothing Else Matters by Metallica already this year, with Miley Cyrus and Phoebe Bridgers already offering their own take on the classic song. However, I’ve always got time for another and this 8-minute epic from country singer Chris Stapleton is just as dazzling, thanks to some amazing bluesy guitars and his textured vocal performance.

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