#black velvet miniseries

[jungk0oksthighs]

Ride Or Die | Cinnamon

mafia!jungkook, druglord!jungkook, angst, smut, unhealthy co-dependant relationship

Word Count - 4k

An insight to your history with RM and the man you thought he was. Warnings: swearing, heavy heavy drinking, emotional pain, heavy angst, ab0rtion, alluded smut, implied SA, (all non-descriptive). Important note: this blog has always been and will always be pro choice

MINISERIES COLLECTION

Four Years Ago:

“Y/N!” Jenna calls from behind the velvet curtain to the side of the main stage, a little too loud for your liking considering you’re in the presence of customers, customers who you don’t want knowing your real name. “RM wants to see you when you’ve finished your set!”

Nodding quickly you carry on flaunting the art of seduction, sliding down the silver pole until your ass hits the floor, allowing you to slowly spread your legs and make even more tips for the night. God bless crotchless panties, you mentally chuckle. The atmosphere tonight is as it always is, every man in the building eagle-eyed on the way you dance for them, the way they pay for.

Truthfully being a stripper wasn’t a part of the life plan you created with neon gel pens in the back of a dotted journal when you were thirteen; but shit happens and it’s one hell of a way to make money.

And you have it pretty good here, much to the bitterness of the other girls it’s no secret that you’re the bosses favourite. Not that you care about their opinions, this line of work isn’t made for people who care about what others have to say. You make the most money, draw in the bigger crowds… And it may or may not have a little something to do with your salacious relationship with said strip club owner too.

RM. That’s his name. Well, you don’t know his actual name, you simply know him as RM and nothing more. Unless you’re bent over the balcony at a hotel room he frequents then you address him by something else entirely.

Daddy.

You’re smirking, seductively dragging your eyes over the suited men on the front row, your regulars. The men known for emptying their wallets all while confessing their undying love for you. You’d make a hell of a lot more money off them if you offered private dances, but RM specifically told you that you won’t be giving such a luxury to the men who fawn after you. Well, not you exactly.

Cinnamon.

Your stripper name. It was RM’s idea to give you such pseudonym:, admitting that he finds you equal parts warm and sweet, that and he likes the taste of you on his tongue. You laugh under your breath at the memory of that conversation, toying with the dainty straps of your black bra. Teasing your viewers. The other girls here had to pick their own stage identities, but ever since your first encountered the boss at the open audition you attended three months ago, you had his full attention. Maybe more.

As soon as the dim lilac lighting fades to black you collect your money from the stage, ignoring the wolf-whistles and lewd comments fired your direction. Truthfully the job isn’t perfect, it comes with downsides like anything else and they usually display themselves in the shadows of disgusting, misogynistic pigs who see you as nothing but a breathing sex doll. That aside, you grab the tips and flash them one final smile over your shoulder before heading up to RM’s office.

“You wanted to see me?” You push open the thick wooden door without permission, figuring you’re past such formalities with someone you’ve seen bare-ass naked at least three times this week alone.

RM is standing by the window, overlooking the dark alley the strip club sits in the centre of. He's had a haircut you notice, short sides and slicked back jet black hair in the middle. A white shirt fights for dominance with his obscene muscles, buttons agape when he flexes to bring the whiskey glass he’s nursing to his plump lips. Smart black trousers and shoes of the same description are what you see next, along with the smirk he’s wearing in the reflection of the glass.

“That set was… Wow.” He chuckles, knocking back the remainder of his drink before turning to you with a sexy, dimpled smile. “Nobody compares.” He sighs almost lovingly, winning you to blush.

Closing the door behind you slip into the comfort of his personal space, taking a seat on the coal leather armchair across from his desk, twiddling with your hair. “You called me up here to tell me something I already know…?” You’re grinning, equal parts arrogant and smug, to which he laughs lightly, sitting down opposite your barely dressed frame.

“Nah,” He dismisses you with an amused head shake, pouring two glasses of whiskey and sliding one over. Despite the fact his dancers aren’t supposed to drink of the job. That being said, you’re more than just his dancer these days.

“But see this is why I like you Y/N, you’re confident. You know you’re hot shit and that makes all the difference in this industry.” He hums, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth with urgency, winning a ‘pop’ to fill the air, “So listen, I might have to leave town soon, my job… my actual job. It’s uh-, well lets just say after years of working with one company I’ve decided to switch to another, my current company won’t be happy and it’ll be safer for me to lay low for a while.”

You’re sipping the whiskey, nodding in agreement yet painfully unsure of what to say, “Okay…?” Thing is you don’t know a single thing about him personally, not even his real name. You don’t know what he does or where he works and the vagueness of his words only make you feel all the more uncertain. “What are you saying?”

“Come with me.”

Choking on the preferred gentleman’s drink you gasp, “I-, what?! I don’t even know anything about you—”

“All in good time, I promise.” Your boss smiles, a genuine smile that finds a way to comfort you despite your clear bewilderment and shock. “Once I know it’s safe I’ll tell you anything you want to know baby girl.”

The nickname ignites a fire deep inside you, as it always does, but in this moment there’s more than heat brewing from his words. Your features soften, gaze never faltering from his. “Can you at least tell me your real name? Or what you do for a living? You can’t expect me to drop everything for you when I can only call you RM.”

“We both know that’s not all you can call me.” He muses, followed by a sharp inhale that creates a hiss between his perfectly straight white teeth, “I can’t go into the details right now, trust me it’s better if you don’t know… But would you consider it?”

“Consider what?” You frown, nervously rubbing your palms together beneath the desk, “Laying low with you? What does that even mean?”

RM sighs, nodding along while he digests your concerns, “I’ll probably be leaving the city for a while, things are going to get… Let’s just say I’m going to make a few enemies, so ideally I need to get out of here when it all goes down.”

Just when you think he can’t get any more endearing you register his ears perk up when he smiles again, on full display thanks to his new shaven-sides haircut. “I want you to come with me, I want to make sure you’re kept safe.”

“Safe from what…?” Your heart thuds against your chest bone when you swallow, veins riddled with anxiety and adrenaline. In all honesty when you were called up here you expected to be fucked atop of the paper on his desk, you in no way prepared for him to ask you to run away with him. And it’s noticeable, your confusion, your worries, all of it written in bold font plastered across your features.

“Not so much what, more so who.”

“Oh well that’s reassuring, thanks for clearing that up—”

RM cuts you off with breathy laughter and raised brows, genuinely entertained by your sarcasm. “Just think about it, please?”

“If you’re leaving what’s going to happen to the club? And the rest of the girls.” You use your hands to gesture to the lavish somewhat salacious environment you’re referring to with a cautious exhale.

“Why do you care? It’s not like those women are particularly nice to you half the time.” His brow quirks, a slight scoff escaping him.

He’s not wrong, this industry is catty at the best of times, but throw in the fact you’re the bosses favourite who sits on his dick on a regular basis and there’s bound to be some spite thrown your way.

It’s understandable, but you decided on your second day that you genuinely don’t care about what people think of you either way. You’re not here to make friends. Even so, you know that some of them have children to provide for, others are struggling to keep roofs over their heads and you can’t bear the idea of someone’s personal situation suffering from this.

“I don’t care,” You shrug, lying, looking away from him, “But if I don’t go with you I’d like to know where I stand with my job at least.”

“The club and all it’s employees will be kept on under new management.”

Your eyes snap back to his handsome face in an instant, “You’re selling this place?!”

“I have to.” He nods regretfully, “But the new owner has agreed to keep you all once the deal is made.”

You hum, lips pursed, “I see.”

“You have around two months to get your affairs in order and give me an answer.”

“And in the meantime? Are you gonna tell me your name...?” You push a little harder, cocking your head to one side with a playful smirk. You don’t know what your future looks like right now, nor have you entertained what’s he’s asking of you just yet. But what you do know is that you like him, you like him a lot.

RM stands, making his way over to your chair fluidly until your face rests between his huge palms. His eyes glisten with something indescribable, something tainted by lust and hope when he leans forward, until his nose ghosts your own. “Not yet, but I can think of something you can call me until then.”

“Oh, is that right?” You chuckle, snaking your arms over his broad shoulders with a gentle smile, one he reciprocates before crushing his lips against yours and quite literally taking your breath away with a continuation of lewd, messy yet passionate kisses that lead into you being fucked senseless against his wooden desk. And the window.

After that particular conversation with RM the weeks seem to fly by. You dance, you earn. You continue to fuck your boss over and over again until you’re leaning against the bath tub in your tiny shithole apartment, wide-eyed, sobbing, one hand clutched over your mouth in despair and the other gripping onto the very thing causing those tears. A pregnancy test.

A positive pregnancy test at that.

With RM having so much going on at the time, constantly stressed over his ‘job’ that he wouldn’t tell you anything about, always glancing over his shoulder to ensure he wasn’t followed, cutting off technological contact with you completely out of paranoia. You figure it best to deal with the situation alone, not wanting to add any more pressure on the heavy pile of his life. And so you go to the clinic, you take the pill, you cry it out, you mourn, you turn to alcohol, you throw things, you stop going to work, you cry some more.

Nobody could’ve prepared you for the emotional devastation that sinks in after terminating a pregnancy, even it’s done for all the right reasons.

It’s not a decision that came easy to you, but you knew you were in no position be it financially or emotionally to become a mother. The pill has never failed you before, so exactly how the pregnancy came to be is unfathomable to you. It wasn’t supposed to happen, it was never meant to happen. How can you even grieve something you didn’t want in the first place? Your heads a mess, every single emotion scrambling what little thoughts you can concur at that time in your life. So you self medicate, using alcohol to numb the pain, you stop dancing for a while, you make a conscious effort to avoid RM.

You do just about everything in your power to forget about the hardest thing you’ve ever had to endure and move on. Until your water shuts off. Your electric runs out. There’s only half a box of mac n cheese left in the cupboard and you couldn’t even cook it if you wanted to. You need the money, desperately so.

Hesitantly, you make the decision to go back to work after three weeks of wallowing away in self-pity and shame. Ignoring the not-so-whispered gossips of your co-workers speculating where you’ve been, what happened, if you’re okay. Yet not one of them care enough to outright ask you such a mundane question, not one of them bothers to approach you directly. Until he does, right before you’re about to take the stage.

“Y/N? Are you drunk?” RM’s eyes frantically scan your face, noting the pink-stain to your eyes from the ungodly amount of rum you’ve inhaled. “Where the fuck have you been I was so worr—”

“I’m sober.” You bark defensively, as though you’re not lying out your ass to avoid being sent home, “I have a set to do-, get out of my way.” You stumble on the spot, nine inch heels proving too difficult a task for you after an entire litre of rum.

RM catches you before you can fall, his ever so handsome face patiently waiting for an explanation as he cradles you in his arms. “You’re not going on stage like this… What the fuck has gotten into you?” He whispers, already carrying you outside to the damp, darkened parking lot before you can argue with him.

“Get off me!” You yell, more like slur against his strong chest, weak and tired arms attempting to push and punch him, “I-, I need to go on! I need the money!”

“What you need is a glass of water and sleep.” RM snaps, contradicting the way he carefully settles you to the ground and holds you in place by your hips. His profile softens when he wets his lips, sighing, looking conflicted, “What the hell happened to you? Where have you been? Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was about you?! I thought they-,” He shakes his head, huffing, forming a breath cloud in the cool air, “I thought something happened to you.”

To this you laugh, kicking your head back to peel away from that intense, gorgeous stare of his, overcome with guilt and sadness. Doing what you do best, pushing people away.

“I don’t even know your name.” You hiss, shoving his comforting hands away from you, “What does it matter if something did happen to me?! Hm?!” You scoff, staggering around, “Just… Stay away from me RM, you… you need to stay away from me. Stay away!”

“Y/N…”

“Stop that!” You shriek, “Stop acting like you know me! Stop acting like you’re here for me, we,” You gesture to the space between your bodies with unkempt hands, “This, whatever this is. Was. It-, it was a mistake.”

RM freezes in place, his once tall, proud frame now slumped and deflated. His face contorted with something you can only describe as hurt. “Just tell me what happened to you, tell me how I can help, this isn’t you.”

“Tell me who you are! You wanna know so much about my life when I don’t know a damn thing about yours!” Your voice is croaky, stained with alcohol and desperation.

“It’s not important right now! What’s important is why you’re acting like such a colossal bitch when you’re the sweetest, funniest most genuine person I’ve ever met!” He rushes to your aid when you fall down to the ground giggling, “This isn’t fucking funny! Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?!”

You nod dramatically, eyes shut, brows furrowed, “If you really want to help me… Stay away from me.”

He peels you from the floor effortlessly, unamused. “That’s not gonna happen Y/N. I’m gonna ask you one last time before I drive you home, what the fuck happened to you?”

When you’re physically faced with the despair haunting his eyes you crumble, burying your face into the crook of his neck while drunken sobs take over your being. You feel so ashamed, so hopeless and disoriented by the complex situation you’ve endured all alone. It’s when his muscular arms squeeze your middle, holding you in place, that you finally share the hellish ordeal with him.

“I-,” You weep, sniffling between your words, “I had an abortion…”

RM’s hold of you falters as he tries to process that information, unbeknownst to you his eyes are wide and lips ajar, brows hiked so far up his forehead that it’s winkled. Uncomfortably, he clears his throat and pats your back before pulling away entirely. His gaze unreadable, profile serious.

“An abortion, was that?” He asks, blinking, and you confirm with a tiny disappointed nod. “So that… That would mean-,” He sighs, frowning, gnawing his lip anxiously, “Am I? …Was I?”

Another nod.

“Get in the car.”

You look up at him through wet eyelashes, still blubbering, “I’m sorr—”

“I said get in the fucking car!” He roars, loud enough to elicit genuine, unnerving fear in your blood.

The drive home that night is ominously silent. The two weeks that follow are equally as unsettling, barely exchanging stolen glances at the other in the club. Not speaking, not dignifying the other’s presence with a reaction when you do see each other. Not-so-secret rendezvous with your boss quickly dwindle down to nothing, neither of you saying a single word about what happened. To anybody.

It’s fifteen days after the incident in the parking lot that you meet your new boss, Jackson. The man who bought the club from RM, the one who allegedly promised to keep all it’s employees. He fires most of the girls on the spot, stating this one is too skinny that one has no sex appeal, some girls even quit of their own accord because he’s such an asshole to work for. You decided to stay, simply for the source of income, but his arrival only reminds you of RM’s departure from the club, having left without even saying goodbye.

Pretty soon you fall into old habits, drinking a lot, putting yourself in reckless situations at work. Not that Jackson seemed to care, hell one night during a private dance a client got a little too handsy and you screamed, slamming the emergency button with so much panic inside you – and Jackson barely batted an eyelid, expecting you to continue your shift as though nothing happened at all.

It only made you miss RM more, because even before you two were involved he always had your back. There were times he’d quite literally saved your life and fought for your honour, he’d been gifted several black eyes and busted lips dragging men away from you. But that was gone.

RM was gone.

The days turn into weeks, the weeks become months and before you know it it’s been over a year since RM left. Not a single word from him, no evidence to prove he was part of your life whatsoever save for the memories scarring the walls of your mind. Your regular clients didn’t know what happened, your co-workers didn’t care, and your new boss definitely didn’t give a fuck about your declining mental health.

And so you focussed on making money, paying off your debts, putting food in the cupboards, all while willing away the dimpled smile haunting your dreams.

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a shithole like this?” A man, one you’ve never seen in the club before asks with a quirked brow and dangerous smirk. He’s been ogling you all night from afar, dropping some hefty tips by your feet as he watched you dance.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, scoffing, “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”

At this he grins, peering up at you from his front row seat, his silver lip ring shining beneath the stage lighting and pulling your attention momentarily. “How much for a private dance baby girl?”

Internally shuddering at the pet name you push every emotion down into the depths of your stomach, feigning a smile, elegantly slipping off the stage and onto his lap. You snake your arms over his big, beefy shoulders that are well-hidden beneath a black leather jacket, eyes fixed on his. “Two hundred for an hour.” You whisper, slowly dragging your fingertips through his thick raven hair.

“Mmm.” He nods, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, brows pinched in concentration when his stare flickers to your cleavage for a brief moment. “How many hours do you have left of your shift?”

“Five. You caught me early.” You flirt, closing the distance between your lips and the shell of his ear, taking it between your teeth and tugging gently.

The man chuckles, large palms finding purchase on the bare bend of your waist, giving that you’re only wearing a sheer matching baby pink bra and thong set. “I’ll take all five.”

Pulling back you watch him closely, registering he’s handsome, far too attractive to be in this dive you concur, "You want to spend the next five hours alone, with me? I don’t have sex with my clients.” You’re about to climb off him when his grip tightens.

“If I wanted sex I would’ve asked one of the other dancers that have been throwing themselves at me all night.” He purrs, picking up your chin with a tattooed hand until you’re eye to eye with him. “But I’m not interested in them or whatever they’re offering. I’m interested in you and whatever you’re offering.”

“Fine.” You laugh unapologetically, this man’s seriously about to drop one thousand dollars for a five hour dance, what a fucking shmuck. “But I need to know your name, your real name…” You swallow, sighing, enforcing the one rule you created yourself, to avoid repeating past mistakes.

“So I know who to hold responsible if I get hurt.”

He smiles, holding your jaw in place and pulling you closer, until you feel the cool metal of his lip ring ghosting your lip,

“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

x

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook series #jungkook miniseries #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fic #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namkook #namkook smut #namkook x reader #mafia!jungkook #mafia!namjoon #namjoon x oc #rm smut #jk smut #bts smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #bts x reader #kpop hard hours #bts hard hours #bts hard thoughts #jeongguk #namjoonie #rm

[voluptuarian]

Favorite Movie Costumes (pt. 1)

Recently got the line-up-your-toys urge to list and discuss my favorite tv and movie costumes-- my favorites are many and tumblr's image limit is low, so I'm not sure how many posts this'll eventually spread to, but here's the first crop.

The Queen's red gown - The Brother's Grimm

I don't think anyone on earth wanted to love this movie more than I did when it came out-- sadly, the film itself was generally a letdown. However, its costumes absolutely delivered, which should come as no surprise since they were designed by Gabriella Pescucci. The costumes for Monica Belluci's queen are my favorites of all, but this piece, the one she wears for most of the movie, may be my favorite costume of all time.

The costume has several iterations; it's paired most prominently with her enormous horned headdress (my fave), but she also wears it with a more delicate tiara.

Marianne de Morangias' red riding habit - Brotherhood of the Wolf

Although Brotherhood of the Wolf is far from a good movie, I have a terrible soft spot for it, which is mostly due to its wonderful costumes, including a crowd of hunting costumes throughout, none more gorgeous than the one Marianne's debuts during the film's first hunt.

I probably owe my love of riding habits to American Girl's Felicity and her swoon-worthy green velvet habit-- they are sadly underused in movies (meanwhile Marianne not only wears this red habit, but also shows off an equally beautiful green one later.)

Christine Daae's masquerade dress - The Phantom of the Opera

Fun fact, I watched this movie as a teenager (after falling in with the inescapable junior high theater nerd crowd, who tried unsuccessfully to use this as a gateway drug to getting me hooked on musicals), then forgot about the vast majority of the costumes, and stumbled upon it again years later without realizing it was from a movie and completely fell in love with it.

I'm very fond of the early 1870s silhouette in general, long trains in particular, and the back of this one is what really sold me. The frothy layers of chiffon?? the flowers?? the graceful tiered bustle?? Obsessed. (Another fun fact, this is one of the references I always bring up when discussing potential wedding dresses.)

Imogen Spurnrose's red ensemble - Carnival Row

I know, another red velvet number ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Imogen's wardrobe is full of lovely quasi-Victorian pieces, but this one had me GASPING when it came on screen. These pictures do not do the color or vibrancy of that jacket justice!

Geilis Duncan's white ballgown - Outlander

I'm usually not a fan of stripped down historical styles, especially ones this anachronistic, but something about the minimalist design of this dress just charmed me.

It reminds of in some way of artistic undress in 17th century portraits, and the lightness of the colors and material has this clean, airy, almost White Lady quality to it, and the simplicity and limited accessorizing really brings out the period silhouette. (Also I adore lover's eyes).

Vanessa Ives' lace blouse - Penny Dreadful

Vanessa has a gorgeous wardrobe (Gabriella Pescucci hitting it out of the park again) containing a number of delicate black and white blouses, but this one is my favorite.

The design is not that complex, but the wealth of tiny details, especially the petal shaped blackworked collar and cuffs, give it a huge visual punch; paired with the decorative belt and beautiful black skirt it's a very unique look that shows off some of the most beautiful elements of the period (last photo courtesy @periodcostumefantasylover)

Lorna's church dress - Lorna Doone

YES another red number. And what a red!! This miniseries is so obscure I had to do my own (butt ugly) screencaps off Youtube, but despite being a fairly modest production, they do some nice 17th century looks in it.

This dress is glimpsed for a moment as Lorna catches sight of her separated lover through the crowd-- very dramatic, but unfortunately it means getting a good look at the beautiful dress is hard, but I did my best: here's the actual scene, if you want a better look (and I'd recommend the series, too!)

Virginia Wilson's Worth dress - 1899

Big shock, the replica House of Worth dress made it in *Oprah shrug* I've adored the original dress for years, so I went nuts seeing it on the show! On top of just top tier everything, the costuming on 1899 was great, and the fact that they decided to throw this dress in was just the cherry on top.

There are some minimal differences between this dress and its inspiration, most notably the change in pattern-- Virginia's dress not only incorporates the alchemical logo like all the rest of the characters, but the rounded edges in the original are all made jagged to match it, as you can really see in the last photo.

---- on to part 2!

[kurtzbergsiblings]

Tag nine people you'd like to know better

favourite colour(s) : all shades of purples, black, and dark green favourite flavour(s) : Lemon, chocolate/red velvet, cinnamon, and spicy foods favourite genre(s) : Horror (I'm writing it for a living!) and anything you could call weird fiction. I also like classics but that's not a genre Favourite music : Alt and Folk are the big ones at this point! Voltaire is my favorite artist (#1 Fan is my current go to song of his), but Hozier's Too Sweet will be on repeat a lot :3 Favourite movie(s) : The Muppet Movie (1979) and Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 are my comfort movies. I also love Corpse Bride and Scream Favourite series: The Pride and Prejudice miniseries from the nineties Last movie : Carrie currently reading : I just finished Left Hand of Darkness, which I liked! I'm on and off reading Revelations of Divine Love (it's a mystic text), and I'm reading the short stories of my peers for workshop! Currently watching : Eternally watching Great British Baking Show. I also just watched season 3 (solstice) of Netflix's Slasher over the course of two days and I'm obsessed

Tagged by: @handicappedbuenchico

Tagging: @w-o-r-d-s--f-a-i-l @oughtabeinpxctures @phantomcurtaincall and anyone else interested!

[theimaginatrix27]

So I've gotten a few of the revamped Discworld audiobooks

I really like what I'm hearing so far!

The ones I currently have are Small Gods(again), Wyrd Sisters (due to the miniseries I watched bits of as a small child, and which was my introduction to the Disc, though I knew it not then), Soul Music (I paid more attention to that miniseries, though I never fully processed "Susan's grandfather is Death" because I didn't know the context/missed the beginning), and Amazing Maurice (which was the first Discworld novel I ever read courtesy of Vision Australia).

I also got a set of BBC audio dramas, but I wasn't satisfied with some of them (the guy who played Death was not a bass and Death can't just be a tenor/baritone with a reverb slapped on I'm sorry I didn't make these rules.)

So, let's start with Small Gods, because I listened to the play version and then the new version read by Andy goddam Serkis.

So Andy did a phenomenal job, but who was expecting any different?

He did give Brutha a deeper voice than I expected from a seventeen-year-old but I got used to that (also I had just listened to the audio drama wherein Brutha was played by another tenor so I was a wee bit biased).

He also turned Om into David Lister from Red Dwarf and I don't know how to feel about that one except I hope Terry was listening in the afterlife and found it just as hilarious.

After consuming three separate versions of this book I can state with confidence that I would absolutely die for Brutha if that would not make him sad. He was such a good boy.

Death shows up just a little in this book but I'll gush about him in a minute.

Apart from the other plays, which I skimmed through, I've only read Soul Music, so let's just move on to that one okay?

Death has his own voice actor. I mentioned this the other night when I made the post wherein I related my discovery of the new set of audiobooks, but guys he is. Killing it. (pun absolutely intended and also completely true.) His voice is deep and dark and rolls like thunder and is the perfect balance of black honey on black velvet and GAH I LOVE IT. There need to be audiobook narrations awards just so Peter Serafinowicz could get seven.

Sian Clifford is also amazing, and captures Susan very well, as well as every other character, and I enjoyed listening to her extremely very much.

Seriously Peter's Death is the best iteration of Death I've ever heard and I watched the miniseries of this book, which had Death played by Christopher goddam Lee!

Peter does not, notably, attempt to speak for the Death of Rats. I do not mind this. Sian's "SQUEAK"s were adorable. (Can you do the Death font on Tumblr? I think I've seen the Death font rendered weirdly by my screen-reader before and I dunno if it was on here or TVTropes.)

I didn't get the Nigel version of this book but I heard the sample and he did what he always does with gloomy characters and made Susan sound cartoon glum and ... I'm glad that's not what I experienced here.

Terry's references are like finding chocolate coins every now and then when you turn a page and I love them.

In short, I believe I've made an excellent investment.

I really hope whoever narrates the Vimes books is as good as the guy who played him in the Night Watch drama. I think he was different from the guy who played him in the Guards! Guards! drama, which is why I'm pointing him out specifically. I'm sure I'll love the choice regardless, but I'm still gonna voice the hope.

#Discworld #Spelled correctly this time #Terry Pratchett #GNU Terry Pratchett #Audiobooks #Soul Music #Small Gods #Death of the Discworld #I have always loved him he's so chill #And I'm so glad he's being done justice

[the-masked-ram]

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I’m sure you guys are sick of these, but writing is the main source of my income right now and I will continue with this as unobtrusively as I can. Predatory Part Four OC Furry Drabble Series Excerpt- Its body was made of tentacular vines, and its arms were wrapped in rotting maggoty wood interspaced with flesh that was slowly sloughing fur. Its face was twisted in a permanent grimace with blackened flesh and twisted plants. But it was the eyes you would never forget, the way they stared but shouldn’t be able to see. Black like the night sky without stars, without a moon, like black velvet stretched across nothing, they weren’t holes, but they weren’t there either. Crimson Stained Ivory Megumi x Reader Excerpt-  A sob ripped itself painfully from his chest and he turned his head to cough. His fingers gripped tighter at your cheeks, he pressed a soft kiss against each eyelid as he pulled them down gently, and then ended with a delicate touch of his lips against yours. He choked on a gasp another painful cough tearing its way from his lungs as he pulled away. Hoping he would wake from this never-ending nightmare. Loving Sin Chapter Four Original Content Miniseries Excerpt- Slowly as she talked herself through her anxiety and once again built the fire of courage in her gut, Ayala pushed open the doors, “Pride! I swear to all that is Unholy, do you not know what going slow means? And who informs people they will be moving by sending an actual moving company first thing in the morning to their home?! Before even discussing it with them! Seriously! Do you actually have no social graces? Do demons just do whatever they please? This is ridiculous on a whole new level.” ---- Read more from these pieces and even more content at my Patreon

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[littledarlinwrites]

Black Velvet Miniseries

Part 1: Kickstart My Heart

Black Velvet Miniseries Masterlist

Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Photographer!Reader

Word Count: 3287

Author’s Note: This is for @kentuckybarnes 3K Writing Challenge. Hannah, thank you so much once again for allowing me the chance to participate and giving me the idea of a Rockstar!Bucky, without you this never would have been written. Also, special thanks to my wonderful beta reader @lokissoul for reading this over and reminding me not to get so stuck in my and be more confident in my writing, you’re a doll! Also, a final tag for @star-spangled-bingo for my Rockstar AU square. 

Summary: The Avengers start their first tour after making their big break. They say Rockstars never die, but is that true? Will the band recover after having it all to nearly losing their lives in one night?

Warnings: I don’t want to give anything away, but there is a car/bus accident scene in here, and therefore a bit of angst. Let me be clear that nobody dies though. Emotional Bucky.

They had it all. The crowd was wild, they were covered in sweat, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’ve all been great tonight! Let’s hear it for everyone that helped put on this show though!” The crowd erupted into cheers that shook the floor beneath Steve’s feet. “Remember to tip the wait staff and don’t text and drive!” Steve bade the crowd his goodnight parting words before walking off the stage. The rest of the band was backstage packing up their instruments and wiping the sweat off their faces. The post-show adrenaline was pumping through their veins and they felt untouchable. They had been working so hard for this break, and the pay off tasted sweeter than they thought possible.

“That was awesome!” Clint exclaimed pumping his fist that was gripping a broken drumstick. His face was still beat red from the exertion of playing his heart out on his drum set. Bucky chuckled at the man’s antics before speaking up himself.

“That was more than awesome, man. I’ve never felt more alive!” Bucky said jumping to his feet after closing his bass guitar case.

“Alright guys, hate to kill the vibe, but we’ve got to get a move on tonight so we can get to the next venue and beat traffic!” Pepper said while directing the crew and answering questions. A chorus of groans followed her statement.

“Guys, I’m sure Pepper wouldn’t mind the party continuing on the bus, where there are two fully stocked mini bars I might add!” Tony spoke up before kissing Pepper on the cheek. Pepper managed the band, and Tony worked lights and tech, but they worked together on getting everybody to one place.

“Anyone touch my vodka and I’ll bash your head in with my guitar.” Natasha piped up, her arms wrapped around Bruce, but loosening their hold.

“Don’t worry my Song Bird, I already hid it,” Bruce said smiling. Natasha wrapped her arms around him tightly again before pulling away to pick up her guitar and head towards the tour bus to snag the shower before anyone else did.

“Hey Tony, is there any mead in those mini bars?” Thor secretively asked with his guitar case slung over his back.

“Bottom shelf, buddy.” Tony tells him before Thor walks away nodding to him with a smile. Clint joined him as the crew hauled away his broken down drum set, talking to Thor about the third song in their set.

“Looks like it’s you and me pal.” Steve spoke to Bucky as they began making their way to the bus.

“I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, pal, but tomorrow night we are getting dates.” Bucky said with a chuckle, causing Steve to break out into a laugh.

“Let’s go before they drink all the booze. You know Thor is a bottomless pit.”

“I still swear that guy isn’t human with his tolerance.”

As Steve and Bucky joined the others on the tour bus drinks were thrusted into their hands by Tony. Clint and Thor were still avidly talking about the set they had just performed. Natasha was sitting beside Bruce, her hair still wet and eyes glued to her phone to mess with the playlist that was booming through the speakers. Tony pulled Pepper over to the couch and pulled out a deck of cards and motioned to Steve and Bucky asking if they wanted to play. Considering the male to female ratio, and the fact that the women there were spoken for they played a different version of strip poker, instead of stripping they would drink. Steve had a surprisingly good poker face, much to the chagrin of Thor. Natasha had the best poker face, while Bruce had the worst. So far Thor and Bruce were tied at how much games each of them lost. Natasha and Bucky were tied at how many games each of them won. Clint was texting on his phone not even paying attention to the game any longer. Pepper was talking to the driver about where they had to go next and the itinerary for the next couple of days, and Tony and Steve were trying to out-maneuver the other. Eventually Tony threw down his cards in frustration.

“That’s it lady and gents, I’m out for the night.”

“Sounds like someone’s tired of getting their butt kicked to me.” Steve said, not quite under his breath, mockingly. Tony shot Steve a dirty look and began to open his mouth when Pepper sat on his lap completely halting his train of thought. Bucky clapped his hand on Steve’s shoulder before announcing that he was heading to bed before he got dragged into another game. Clint seconded him and followed Bucky to the back of the bus and claiming the bottom center bunk. Tony began feeling drowsy from the alcohol in his system and decided to make his leave.

“Pep’ honey, I’m gonna go grab a bunk in the back, join me?”

“As soon as we cross state lines, shouldn’t be too long now. Save me some room?”

“You betcha.” Tony hums to her before giving her a kiss goodnight and making his way to the bunk that was sounding cozier by the second. Steve helped Pepper clean up the poker game and various empty glasses. Thor was reading a book on one couch while on the other Natasha was running her hands through Bruce’s hair, who had fallen asleep on the couch beside her. Beside Pepper at the sink Steve spoke up while rinsing out some of the glasses..

“I know I’ve thanked you before Pepper, but we wouldn’t be here on this tour bus without you. I don’t know how you manage to deal with us all sometimes, but I just want you to know that we all appreciate it.”

“Thank you, St-” Pepper was suddenly cut off from a resounding bang from the back of the bus and the bus then lurching violently forward throwing Steve and Pepper off their feet and to the floor. The bus slowly came to a stop on the eerily silent highway.

“Everyone okay?” The tour bus driver shouted out while checking his rearview mirrors before looking behind him into the bus.

“Uhm, I don’t know. What the hell was that?” Steve spoke up as he helped Pepper to her feet. Pepper looked around before making her way to the back of the bus. Steve walked up to the bus driver.

“Looks like a semi behind us, must have hit us. I’m gonna step out and see how bad it is and call 911.” The bus driver said before letting himself off the bus with his phone in hand. Steve turned around when he heard a blood-curdling scream that made his blood run cold. He ran to the back of the bus where Pepper stood frozen. Clint was trying to guide her out of the bunk area when Steve noticed the thin line of blood coming from his ear and panic shot through his veins. Steve looked into the bottom right bunk that was at the very back of the bus and what he saw made his heart stop. Inside Bucky's bunk was not only Bucky, but part of the semi that crashed into the tour bus. A very pale Bucky laid in his bunk knocked out and his left arm was missing. Steve reached out two fingers to his best friends neck looking for a pulse. His hands were shaking so much he almost didn’t feel the faint pulse, but when he did he let out a sigh of relief. Steve began pulling his belt from his waist before carefully climbing over bucky and using it as a makeshift tourniquet to keep Bucky from losing anymore blood. Steve knew from his mom being a nurse that no matter how much he wanted to get his best friend out of there that he had to leave him there for the paramedics, otherwise he could risk paralyzing Bucky if he wasn’t already. Steve took a deep breath and did the hardest thing he’s ever had to do in his life and turn his back to Bucky. He took a step forward and looked into the bunk that caused Pepper to scream. Tony laid there with pieces of shrapnel in his chest. For the second time that night Steve reached out with two fingers to find a pulse. Tony’s pulse was also faint, but it was still there. At that moment Steve heard the sound of sirens quickly approaching and prayed that his friends would get to a hospital in time.

With Bruce in front, Natasha road with Pepper in the back of the ambulance carrying Tony to the hospital while Thor took the front and Steve and Clint road in the back of the ambulance that carried Bucky. Before Steve knows it, they’re at the hospital and Bucky and Tony are rushed back into the OR while Clint is ushered to the ER and the rest are left in the waiting room. Steve sits in the chair wringing his hands. Staring at them. He can’t help but be disgusted with the amount of Bucky’s blood that is still on them. He gets up and heads to the restroom to wash them and scrubs them until they are raw. He walks back into the waiting room and eye’s the group. Natasha had headed to the ER room that Clint was in to check on him. Thor was pacing the room. Bruce was outside smoking a cigarette, a stress habit he had quit a couple of months ago, but tonight it was back in full swing. Pepper sat in the corner crying constantly looking up at the clock or the doors every time she heard a shoe squeak across the shiny tile floor. The hospital had that sterile smell hanging in the air that made Steve’s stomach lurch. He took a seat, put his head in his hands, and waited.

An hour and a half later, Clint and Natasha join them in the waiting room. Clint silently takes a seat beside Steve and leans forward to put his head in his hands. Steve looks to Natasha having noticed the devastated look on Clint’s face. Natasha fixed the grimace from her face and took a deep breath before she spoke, leaning into Bruce for comfort.

“The accident caused Clint’s eardrums to rupture. That’s why there was blood, he uhm, he’ll need hearing aids to be able to hear again.” Bruce wrapped his arm tighter around Natasha to comfort her. Steve shook his head before putting a comforting arm around Clint’s shoulders. Clint looked up at Steve, and he saw his bloodshot eyes. The night seemed like it would never end. Another hour and a half later, a doctor still in scrubs walks out of the OR doors. Everyone’s heads lift up and their stomachs fill with dread. In this moment they would find out the status of one of their friends. And they weren’t ready for the news if it was bad.

“Barnes family?” The doctor called out. Steve raised to his feet and made his way over to the doctor. He felt as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Is he-” Steve clears his throat as he trips on the words. “Is he okay, doc?”

“He no longer has a left arm. He’ll have to stay in the hospital for at least the next two weeks as he recovers. He’s gonna be in a lot of pain, however, he should make a full recovery. As soon as the nurses get him situated in a room one will come out and take you to him. He wouldn’t be here if someone hadn’t fastened their belt as a tourniquet. I’m not gonna sugar coat it, he’s got a long road ahead of him, son.” The doctors noted somberly before walking away. Steve lets out a breath he’s been holding and his shoulders drop slightly from all the tension he had been holding in anticipation. Natasha walked up to Steve to see what the doctor had said fearing the worst.

“He’s okay.” Steve managed to croak out before tears of relief shed down his face. Natasha wrapped her arms around him while shooting the others behind him a thumbs up to let them know Bucky was okay. The sigh of relief from the group was audible, and as the doctor said, a nurse was out shortly taking Steve, Natasha, and Clint to Bucky’s room. Another painstaking forty-three minutes later another doctor walks out of the OR.

“Stark?” The doctor called out looking around the room.

“Uh, yeah, that’s uhm, that’s me.” Pepper spoke up clumsily.

“He made it out of surgery fine and we were able to remove most of the shrapnel. There are a few pieces left behind that were too difficult to risk removing so he’ll have to get regular doctors visits to keep an eye on them, but other than that he should make a full recovery. A nurse will be out shortly to let you know where his room is.” Pepper let out an audible cry of relief at the news, throwing her arms around Bruce in a hug. Thor wrapped his arms around the both of them.

Steve sat on Bucky’s right at his bedside listening to the strong and steady beat of Bucky’s heart. He could hear Clint tapping his fingers to the steady rhythm against his legs, he didn’t know if Clint could hear the loud beeping or if it was a result of him watching the heart monitor. Everything was sinking in for Steve and he was exhausted. However, he couldn’t wrap his mind around how fast things had changed in an instant. Steve didn’t know what they were going to do for once in his life.

The next couple days passed by in a blur. Tony was the first to wake up, and Pepper couldn’t stop crying when she saw him open his dark chocolate brown eyes. Another day later Bucky woke up only to be sedated when he started panicking when he saw a doctor and noticed his missing arm. He slept for another day before he woke up again. Steve was more prepared for his reaction this time, and was the first person he saw instead of some stranger. When Steve explained to Bucky what happened Bucky started crying. He didn’t like crying in front of people, but the weight of everything seemed to crash down around him. Everything they had been working for was gone. He couldn’t play his bass guitar anymore, Clint couldn’t hear, Tony would be living in fear that a piece of leftover shrapnel could kill him one day. Bucky couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around the fact that his arm was gone. The phantom pain taunted him and was a constant reminder that he would never be the same. Eventually the doctor got him set up with a special type of physical therapy for amputees. They called it mirror box therapy, basically Bucky would complete physical therapy in front a of a mirror to re-map neural pathways in his brain so his mind could register that his limb was no longer there. At first it just seemed like another cruel reminder to him. He hated looking at himself in the mirror now.

Once Bucky completed his physical therapy his doctor talked to him about a new arm. There was an experimental program for a prosthetic that would allow Bucky to have some feeling and potentially be able to play his guitar again. Bucky jumped at the opportunity and the doctor put him in contact with Doctor Shuri who would have the new prosthetic fitted for him and would help him adjust to his new life style.

It took Bucky a bit to get used to his new arm, but it didn’t lack dexterity and the first day with his new arm he locked himself in his room in the apartment he shared with Steve and practiced strumming on his guitar. It was clumsy at first, he often pressed down on more than one chord when he didn’t mean to. He almost gave up until Steve suggested plucking with his metal arm and putting the fret in his right. It took some adjustments, and Bucky had to get his guitar re-stringed so the strings would be in the correct order again, but slowly he regained his first real sense of normalcy. It took months, but eventually the guys in the band started practicing again. Clint had to adjust the sensitivity of his hearing aids a couple times, and Bucky fumbled more than he’d like to admit, but eventually the band hammered out the basics of covers of songs they knew by heart that helped them get noticed, and some original songs of theirs.

When the first anniversary of the accident came they had a bonfire on Clint’s farm in upstate New York. They sat around the fire talking about life and eventually talking about the shows they played. They missed it. They missed playing in front of a crowd. They missed the adrenaline after the show. By the end of the night, they called up Pepper with their decision that within six months, they would be back on the road. They had been practicing, that had healed, and they had the workings for a new album. Steve had dealt with the accident by not only writing music, but drawing up album artwork that at the time he thought would never see the light of day.

The following week the band met up at the studio and locked themselves away for 3 weeks working on the new songs until the album was finished. Pepper began contacting and booking venues. The band was worried that with the accident happening so soon after their break into the industry they may have slipped off the radar. That was until the most esteemed rock music magazine contacted Pepper when they caught buzz that the band would begin playing again. Shield magazine had interviewed the likes of Marvin Gaye, Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Motley Crue, Led Zeppelin, and countless others that the band looked up to. The magazine wanted to send out an interviewer and photographer to their first show to get their comeback story. Pepper granted them access, and the band was simultaneously more excited and more anxious for their first show. Bucky was a bundle of raw nerves. He was terrified that people would look at him differently with his prosthetic, or that he would fumble and screw up the show in front of a huge audience considering the show had sold out the day tickets were released. The night of the show Bucky thought he might actually throw up on stage. Steve had to give him a pep talk to calm him down.

“You’re gonna do fine Buck. You’ve put in countless hours practicing and dare I say, you may even sound better now than you did before. You got this man. Either way, I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.” Steve told Bucky with his hands on his shoulders. Steve knew how insecure Bucky was about his arm, always covering up the black and gold-toned prosthetic.

“Thanks punk.” Bucky replied to Steve after taking a deep breath. Bucky pulled his bass out of its case and slung the strap around his right shoulder. He practiced a few runs to calm his nerves before plugging his bass into the amp. Each of the band members took one last look at each other heading on stage for the first time since their lives had changed twice in one night.

Tags:

@letstalkaboutsebbaby @itsbuckysworld @caitfairwrites @xxloki81xx

#hannahs3kwritingchallenge #black velvet miniseries #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #rockstar!bucky x reader #rockstar!bucky x photographer!reader #rockstar!bucky #rockstar au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #rockstar!bucky x you #rockstar!bucky barnes x you #rockstar!bucky barnes x photographer!you #rockstar!avengers #rockstar!avengers au #kickstart my heart

[calswildflcwer]

Secret Admirer ! ~ Part One

Pairing : Camilo x fem!reader.

Warnings : Nothing, just pure fluff atm. Will be a kissing scene later in the story, possible foul language.

Plot : You and Camilo are best friends. Lately, you have been finding love notes attached your front door or delivered to your house with a bouquet of flowers. You had no idea who the love notes are from but it’s always so exciting to you so you always find yourself running happily to tell Camilo whenever you get a new one. One day, you do however find out who’s sending you the love notes and it comes as a huge shock to you and is something you weren’t expecting at all.

Pronouns used : he/him for Camilo, she/her for reader.

Note : I am not a Spanish native and I don’t know any Spanish, all Spanish nicknames mentioned in this story are translated from google. If anything is wrong PLEASE let me know and I will correct it.

Info : Just a little miniseries for our best boy, Cami!

Camilo taglist : @tigreost, @sweetaeyoung, @sunnth, @dai-tsukki-desu, @xxhome-is-where-ria-isxx, @cassiopeia-black-brenda, @elegantkidfansoul, @soumya-13, @eeyahhh, @camilos-mivida, @froggydobegaytho, @iwannabecamiloshovel, @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose, @n3r0-1417, @baileeblanc.

|| part one || next ||

You and Camilo had been best friends for as long as you could remember; you always stuck to each others sides, always running around the village pranking people together. He was your best friend and you were his.

Today was no different than any other, you finished up your chores before sprinting to find Camilo, “Cami! Cami! I got another one!” You called out as you ran his way, skidding to a halt in front of the taller boy.

“Oooh! What’s this one say, mi vida?” He asked you, intrigued as you unfolded the small piece of paper.

“It says; you looked gorgeous today! Blue really suits you x.” You read aloud, grinning Camilo’s way.

He smiled, “Whoever this person is, they’re hooked.” He chuckled as he threw an arm around your shoulders as the pair of you walked together.

You’d been receiving little love notes from a secret admirer for a few weeks now, you would often find the notes taped to your front door or on the top of a crate that you would be delivering that day but you never knew who they were from.

“Who could they be from?” You wandered aloud.

Camilo shrugged, glancing around at the villagers, “They could be from anyone. There’s plenty of guys in this town.” He told you, glancing down at you as you walked.

You were still staring at the note, Camilo took a mental note of the smile that graced your features as you read it. He knew that you were keeping all of the little love notes in a little velvet box that you kept on the top shelf of your wardrobe. The little notes made you so happy despite not knowing who they were from.

“I guess you’re right.” You sighed, stuffing the note in your pocket as you grabbed his arm from around your shoulder. You held his hand and began swinging it back and forth as the pair of you walked, Camilo rolled his eyes as he chuckled, remembering when he was a child and used to skip down the road holding Dolores’ hand like that.

“What if we could find out?” He suggested, turning to you.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“What if we could find out who your secret admirer is?” He rephrased.

“How?” You questioned.

“Well, maybe we could make something up which means that all the boys our age have to give us a sample of their handwriting and then we can compare the samples we get to the love notes?” He shrugged.

“We could do that?” You asked.

“Yeah, sure! I can just go door to door and tell them that Abuela needs them to write something down.” He shrugged.

You threw your arms around him, “That’s a great idea, Cami! Let’s do it!” You grinned at him as you held his hand once again and began eagerly dragging him towards casita.

You paced around Camilo’s room, waiting for him to come up with some kind of plan. “What are we even gonna have them write?” You questioned. “I solemnly swear that I’m not an idiota?” You asked him.

Camilo held back a laugh as he raised an eyebrow in amusement, “Why would we get them to write that?” He enquired.

“Because every boy in town is an idiota and we need to find the one that isn’t.” You told him, cocking a brow as you threw yourself backwards onto his bed, allowing yourself to fall freely onto his blankets.

Camilo sat at his desk watching you before rolling his eyes and spinning in his chair as he stared down at the paper before him, he used his forefinger and middle fingers to rub his temples as he tried to come up with something, anything.

It was an hour later when he finally clicked his fingers, “I’ve got it! We can get them to sign an agreement for their chor-” He stopped when he turned back to you, noticing you curled up into his blankets, your fists were clutching one of his thicker blankets like a child as soft snores left your mouth.

A smile graced his features as he grabbed a blanket that you weren’t laid on and placed it over your sleeping form, “We’ll discuss it later, mi vida.” He whispered, planting a soft kiss to your forehead before leaving his room, letting you sleep peacefully on his bed.

He walked into the kitchen, standing beside Julieta, “Hola tia!” He grinned sheepishly.

“Camilo, it’s not going to work. You’re not getting any extra arepas, you can wait until dinner in a couple of hours.” She told him, turning her head to him with a soft smile.

He sighed, trying to think of a way he could steal some extra food, his eyes widened as an idea came to his mind, “They’re not for me, they’re for (name).” He told his aunt.

Julieta eyed him suspiciously, “You can take one, but if I find out it’s not for (name), I’ll send Isa after you.” She told him, knowing he hated the pranking wars with his prima.

“Ay, okay, okay.” He sighed, shoving his hands into his pocket and leaving the kitchen as Julieta watched him, she shook her head as a smile graced her features whilst he disappeared from her view.

It was hours later, you were currently heading home. That’s when you spotted a note attached to the front door of your house, you slowly approached it and carefully pulled it from the wood before walking inside. “(Name), is that you?!” Your mother called.

You lifted your head, stuffing the note into your pocket, “Si, mami. It’s me!” You called out.

“Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, mi vida!” She let you know.

“Okay, I’ll go and get washed up.” You responded before heading up the stairs.

“Okay, cariño! Don’t take too long!” She called out.

“Alright!” You called back, heading into your bedroom.

You closed the door behind you and took out the note, carefully unfolding it and reading the words written on the paper: You have the cutest laugh I’ve ever heard.

A red tint highlighted your cheeks as you stared at the note before placing it in the velvet box and hiding it back in the top of your wardrobe. You couldn’t revel in the moment yet due to having dinner soon, your hands rose to cover your heated cheeks before you left your room and quickly slipped into the bathroom to wash up so that you were ready for dinner.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, seeing the red flush that was spread across your cheeks, you shook your head; trying to rid your cheeks of the tint that was currently highlighting them.

Your eyes averted back to your reflection as you dried your hands on a nearby towel, “Ay, who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing to me, mystery guy?” You whispered as your hands covered your cheeks.

“Mi vida! Dinner is ready!” Your father called out.

“Coming!” You shouted, exiting the bathroom.

You headed down the stairs and took your seat at the dining table. Enjoying your meal with your family as you quickly put the love note to the back of your mind.

~ Haiii! So welcome to my new Camilo miniseries. I really hope y’all like it! Honestly, idek where I’m going with this lmao but imma see where it takes me anyways. Lemme know y’all’s thoughts, angels! 😘 Stay hydrated, make sure you’ve eaten today, remember you’re loved more than you’ll ever know and stay safe, lovelies! Mwah! 💖

#encanto #disney #disney encanto #encanto fic #camilosunshxne #disney fic #camilo madrigal #camilo madrigal fic #camilo madrigal x female reader #camilo madrigal x reader #camilo x female reader #camilo x reader #camilo my beloved #camilo madrigal supremacy #camilo madrigal x y/n #encanto camilo #camilo encanto #camilosunshxne writes #camilosunshxne series #camilo fanfic #camilo x you #camilo madrigal x you #bees fics #bees stories #bees series

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 6

The final part!! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion! Thank you so much to everyone who has reblogged/commented/shared - it has meant so much. Special thank you again to @morganofthewildfire I'd still be working away at this fic if it wasn't for you, I don't know I ever would have finished it off. Your comments and analysis helped me so much and made this fic better than I could have alone, I'm so grateful.

13k - masterlist - ao3

--

There are five weeks between the eventful wrap party and her first day shooting the Netflix miniseries in Antica. Five weeks for Aelin to sort her shit.

It’s ambitious, and probably unattainable, but she needs a goal.

She needs something to draw her mind away from Rifthold and the director she knows is no longer there.

She gives herself a week of self pity. A week of lying around her sparsely decorated and impersonal Orynth apartment dwelling and pointedly ignoring the headlines she knows have been released. Elide let her know only one picture was captured of her with tears in her eyes leaving the party. Only one and gods bless Elide she shut it down.

Aelin lies on her uncomfortable couch in well-worn pyjamas with unwashed hair and runs through the photos on her phone of her and Fenrys, her and Manon, and the group of them together on set doing whatever shit they used to do.

She spends more time than she should like that. She sits there until her coffee table is overflowing with takeaway wrappers and Aedion and Elide have stopped texting more than once a day. She’s awful for ignoring them but she’s still mortified.

She hasn’t been able to look Aedion in the eyes since he dropped her back at her apartment after their long flight home from Rifthold. He didn’t say much. After he managed to again get her out of the party with minimal press she had cried, curled up between Aedion and Lysandra in their bed, and he didn’t offer judgement or instruction.

He just held her, whispering words she can’t remember but appreciates anyway. Now she hasn’t replied to any of his texts.

She hasn’t texted Fenrys or Manon either. She doesn’t know what to say.

She knows Fenrys jumped immediately into another movie, an action movie she knows he’s been chomping at the bit to get training for, and Manon into the second series of her show that she’s probably too famous for now.

They’re busy. They’ll understand. At least that’s what she tells herself.

The worst thing she does in that week is pour over the photos she has of Rowan. She didn’t realise she had so many but her camera roll is full of silver and green.

There are photos of just him, looking like Rowan, tall and handsome and understatedly happy, smiling covert little smiles at Aelin behind the camera. He was used to her instructing him to pose by the end of filming, she loved snapping away as he did anything. Eating, sleeping, smiling, everything - if it was Rowan she wanted it captured.

Now every photo is a knife to the chest.

The ones of the two of them together are worse, they twist the knife, pain splicing through her until she can hardly breathe. There are pictures of their cheeks pressed together, eyes shining, some serious, some silly. In all of them Aelin can clearly see her own happiness.

She can’t stop looking at them even as tears swell in her eyes and her throat gets tight.

For one week.

Until it’s been seven days since her flight landed back in Orynth and she gets up off her couch and deletes them. She almost doesn’t, her thumb hovers over the button for a good minute before she presses down but then it’s done and they’re gone. She showers and changes her clothes, she throws away all the rubbish on her coffee table and makes a plan.

Filming the movie with all of them it was easy to feel better than she did before, surrounded by new and exciting things, new people who didn’t know her before or treat her differently because of it. It was easy to lose herself in who she was there and with them.

Now though, she’s back to real life and real life lasts for an uneventful three weeks.

She tries what she can, she reads, she runs, she bakes, she teaches herself how to knit. None of it is satisfying and it's hard to make it stick. It’s all boring and never quite captures her attention the way she hopes. Never captures her attention enough to tear it away from Rowan and Rifthold.

A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.

She stumbles upon the change, completely accidentally, and she doesn’t realise what she’s needed until it's right in front of her.

Her usual run route is obstructed by construction and so she takes a left where she usually takes a right, heading down into the west side of the city, the side she doesn’t often frequent.

She used to. She used to spend hours strolling the streets letting the warmth of the sun and Sam’s hand in hers settle into her skin as they observed the numerous bakeries and small boutiques. Thankfully the scenery appears to have changed since.

The chill breeze of the September Orynth air teases the loose strands of hair tickling her face as she comes to a stop outside the sleek shop front. The wooden panels are painted a dark, glossy black and the windows are polished so brightly they reflect what’s left of the sunlight.

Music of Mistward the sign reads in curved, white lettering.

She can see her reflection in the shop window, her cheeks flushed, hair unruly, her running gear nowhere near to what would be appropriate attire for the shop dripping in class but she can’t turn away.

A bell tinkles as she pushes through the door, her headphones gripped tight in her fist as the gentle jazz playing over the sound system greets her. She doesn’t like jazz, it’s not her thing, but along with the musk of wood in the air it’s soothing in welcoming her in.

She passes walls of guitars and violins until she reaches the instrument that caught her eye. It’s sleek, black lid propped open revealing the elegant strings, pulled tight in neat lines. The sharp contrast of the keys against each other, bright against the deep black of the case. Her fingers ghost over them, dying to press down.

She hasn’t played since those days in Rowan’s Doranelle home. She’s wanted to, longed to feel the cool keys under her fingertips and the flood of the music pouring out of her, but the cheap keyboard in her Orynth apartment wouldn’t do Rowan’s beautiful instrument justice.

Aelin would rather not play at all than attempt a cheap imitation of what she felt there.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice sounds behind her, low and raspy but cheerful all the same.

She turns, taking in the older man, his grey hair cut short and his classic shirt and slacks pressed crisp. She glances back to the piano before facing him fully.

“Stunning,” she breathes.

The man steps forwards and offers her his hand. She slips her hand into his and he pumps firmly as he introduces himself.

“Emrys,” he says. “Welcome to Music of Mistward.”

“Aelin,” she says, surprised to hear her voice thick.

“Great to meet you, Aelin,” Emrys says with an ancient smile. He nods towards the piano. “Do you play?”

“No,” she says and Emrys’ smile flickers. “Yes, I mean I used to. I want to,” is what she settles on.

He nods, satisfied, before taking a step closer to the piano. He runs a hand over the top, almost reverently and smiles to himself.

“Antique,” he starts, “almost one hundred years old but well loved. I acquired it recently - here we deal mostly in antique instruments, it’s a passion for both myself and my husband. The previous owner only sold it to me when she inherited it and didn’t know how to play, she wanted it to find a good home.”

He shares a smile with her as if she’s in on the joke but her breathing still hasn’t settled.

“Satin Ebony finish,” Emrys continues, “eighty-eight keys, all original but preserved to the highest quality. Accompanying bench, cut with refreshed velvet. I don’t know in all my years I’ve seen such a fine instrument as old as this.”

Aelin glances back to the piano, it’s big, it won’t fit in her apartment in Orynth but she doesn’t care. She can… adjust. She hasn’t felt a pull like this in a while, she doesn’t want to deny it when she does.

“How much?” she almost demands from the man in front of her.

He appraises her and she knows what he sees. Her bedraggled state and the tension through her shoulders doesn’t give the impression of someone with this much cash to throw around. She abruptly ignores that the way she probably can afford this is because of Rowan’s movie.

When he doesn’t speak she repeats herself, more firmly. “How much?”

“Our price includes delivery and tuning on arrival.” He seems apprehensive of telling her the truth. Aelin waits.

When he finally reveals the figure Aelin blinks. And then she extends her hand. “I’ll take it.”

To his credit Emrys just nods, shaking her hand. “You don’t want to at least play it first?”

Aelin feels the smirk she hasn’t worn in a while creep onto her face. “Is there a risk you’re pulling a fast one on me?”

Emrys returns her smile, a playful glint in his eye. “Not a chance, Aelin. Please follow me to the register where I can take your details.”

Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.

“Any chance I can pay a deposit and then let you know where you’ll be delivering sometime soon?”

Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”

She follows him to the counter, signs away part of a disgustingly large total of money but leaves with a sense of satisfaction. It’s an accomplishment, a step for purely selfish reasons.

The first thing she does when she leaves the shop is call Elide.

Aelin meets her new therapist two days before she flies out to Antica.

She hasn’t called her old one in months and thinks that’s probably a sign. And she’s all about changes at the moment.

She isn’t shooting in Antica for too long, only a couple of months until she’s back in Orynth and then back to Rifthhold for press. Her stomach drops everytime the thought wanders into her head.

She’s excited to be back in Rifthold, but the company is daunting.

Fenrys and Manon will easily be pissed at her disappearance. She knows Manon will play aloof but she also knows she’ll be upset, Fenrys too. Aelin didn’t mean to hurt them, didn’t mean to drop off the face of the Earth, and she knows she’s let them down but Fenrys and Manon remind her of Rowan. She couldn’t trust the conversation not to eventually steer towards him and Aelin isn’t ready for that.

Their break-up feels weirdly anticlimactic. After everything they built to, Aelin just dipped.

She knows it seems that way to Rowan at least. She hasn’t texted him, or rang him or anything since the party. She’s wanted to, wanted more than anything to hear his voice as she cried, but it’s not fair to him to drag it out and she knows that. She knew when she drew the line she had to stay on her side of it, no matter how much it hurt.

She had cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. She cried until her eyes itched with no tears left to fall, until all that came out of her was hoarse screeches as she ached to hear him call her Fireheart one last time.

But no one needs to know that, she had kept it as hidden as she could.

She definitely didn’t need any more paparazzi pictures of her with red-rimmed eyes looking downtrodden. She couldn’t bear the thought of Rowan, or worse her mother, seeing them.

She knows Fenrys and Manon; Aedion, Lysandra and Elide would see through her flimsy excuses and so it was easier to stay quiet.

She’s not thinking about facing them yet. She supposes that will be something that likely comes up with this new therapist, but so far on her own, she’s choosing avoidance.

She gets Maeve’s number from Dorian, and she comes highly recommended by a number of Dorian’s other high profile clients. She’s well-versed in non-disclosure agreements, secret sessions and back street exits; she feels like the perfect fit for Aelin.

Unofficially, Dorian lets her know Maeve takes no shit, and that’s also just what Aelin needs.

They agree to online sessions while she’s in Antica, but Maeve recommended an initial meeting and Aelin is open to all of her suggestions.

Their first hour is not directly her most life changing but it’s a start.

“Welcome, Aelin,” Maeve says, sweeping an arm out towards the firm-looking, orange couch in the centre of the room.

Aelin takes a seat, mutters her thanks and glances around the room.

The room should feel cold with the exposed brick and minimalistic decor, the only furniture being the couch Aelin perches on, the almost regal armchair Maeve reclines in and a lamp, but it doesn’t and she gets comfortable tucking her feet beneath her thighs and leaning against the arm.

“So,” Maeve begins, surveying her in the way only a true professional can. “Let’s get started.”

Aelin feels bare beneath her gaze, and like everything about Maeve and her practise it should be unnerving but she just blinks against the scrutiny.

“Why are you here today? You could start with sharing why you have made this appointment.”

And isn’t that the million gold-mark question?

Aelin takes a deep breath through her nose and raises her chin.

“I don’t want to move backwards,” she admits. “Or maybe I just want to know I’ve actually moved forwards.”

Maeve’s expression stays calm, but Aelin knows she’d be smirking if she could. She’s well aware of how therapy works but even so, speaking her thoughts aloud can help to verify them in her own mind.

Aelin hopes so at least.

Their hour is over quickly and Aelin is resolved that Maeve is a good fit, reassured in Dorian’s claim that the woman takes no shit. Her all-knowing assessment of Aelin should have been unsettling but the frank dissection is what she needs.

Online therapy, especially fitting it around shooting might be a challenge but it’s for the best. As much as she values her independence and standing on her own two feet, Aelin is big enough to admit that facing her mother again may require some professional guidance. Seeing Rowan too, but again, she’s not thinking about that yet.

Antica is hot and Aelin is sweaty within seconds of stepping out of the air-conditioned luxury of the airport. That feeling lasts the entire time she’s there, disrupting the otherwise enjoyable time she has shooting the series.

Her new co-stars are fine, they invite her out with them and make her smile but she can’t help as though a part of her is always comparing them to who and what she left in Rifthold. Aelin tries her best to enjoy her time there with them, she hosts dinner parties and invites them to a game of Aedion’s but nothing quite hits the same as her time spent on The Crescent City.

She rationalises it to Maeve, that The Crescent City was a big turning point in her life and that it has nothing to do with Rowan, Fenrys or Manon, but she’s not sure she even believes it herself.

She spends the rest of her time in Antica trying to convince herself, and Maeve, that she’s moving past it. That she’s moving forwards or else she’ll move backwards. She’s not sure how much of it is futile.

The Crescent City is done, whether she likes it or not, and she can’t deny it changed her in ways she didn’t expect. It’s a hard pill to swallow that maybe it changed her beyond return to how she was before. She also can’t quite figure out whether she thinks that’s a bad thing or not.

They have a dinner for the core cast and crew, including Rowan, once they’re all back in Rifthold for the beginning of the press cycle. They have one night to reacquaint before they’re shoved into the whirlwind that is interviews, photoshoots and promotion.

She’s seen the trailer already and it’s just as she expected but more. It’s dark and dreary with flashes of brightness from herself and Fenrys and she’d want to watch it if she chanced a viewing as a member of the public.

What is surreal, is to see herself in a polished version of the film they were creating. Or at least a part of it.

She said each of the lines, rehearsed them over and over until they fell off her tongue without thought, but she still doesn’t recognise the girl in the trailer. A droplet of pride slips down her chest at the realisation that it’s not Aelin in the trailer but Feyre. She knows she’s good, has known it all along, but the realisation and reaffirmation is ecstasy better than any drug.

She hovers outside the restaurant, watching through the window, needing a couple more seconds before she submits herself to the assault of them all again. She still hasn’t replied to either Fenrys or Manon and the thought presses on her like lead but it’s too late to change that now.

If she’s honest she’s concerning herself with Fenrys and Manon in the hopes of distracting herself from the fact that she’s seconds away from Rowan. Seconds away from him in the flesh, his solid body in front of her that she had learned almost as well as her own.

Her palms are clammy and she wipes them against the fabric of her trousers. The upcoming interviews and photoshoots will all be styled for her and so she’s relishing in her last moments for a while of truly dressing like Aelin.

She takes a step towards the restaurant door, the tip of her trainer bumping the wood when a voice sounds behind her.

“Well, hello there, Stranger.”

Aelin braces herself, hand paused outstretched where it had been reaching for the door.

She turns, biting her lip as she faces Fenrys. He looks the same as he did, skin still golden, eyes still dancing with mischief, but his golden curls are trimmed shorter than the last time she saw him. His expression is carefully blank.

“I- Hi… um,” she stumbles over the words. “I’ve missed you.”

Fenrys breaks almost immediately. “Oh thank the fucking gods.”

He surges forwards and wraps her into a tight hug. Aelin clings to him, fighting the tears in her eyes as she buries her face in his chest. She’s gone far too long without this, without him, and it’s all her own fault.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Fenrys asks. “Oh wait, no you don’t. I’m assuming your phone broke, or was stolen or something since you never replied to any of my texts letting you know.”

Aelin knows her cheeks are stained pink. “I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I know.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek.

He pauses before he speaks again, his eyes running over her face. “You could have texted me anytime, you know. Manon too. I know you might forget or try to convince yourself otherwise, but we are your friends. You could have called us about literally anything.”

Aelin feels like she could cry. She’s not sure that she isn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be about anything serious, especially not related to the movie,” or Rowan he doesn’t say but Aelin hears it. “We just wanted to hear your stupid voice.”

Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”

She pokes her tongue out as he rolls his eyes, easily falling back into the dynamic they had shaped a few months ago.

“Not what I meant,” he says before pausing, taking her in as she stands in front of him. “You can’t lose us that easily, you know. We’re like rats or fleas or something. Hard to get rid of.”

“Nice,” she comments, but her chest is tight at his words.

He smiles at her before adding, “and you had fucking better text me back.”

Aelin laughs through the sniffles he’s kindly ignoring. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and finds his contact. Hi she sends and feels his phone buzz against her.

“Much better,” he says and releases her from his arms. “Now, are you ready for a night of the finest dining all on the studio credit card?”

Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”

He shoots her a wink and waltzes ahead to hold the door open for her.

Fenrys’ presence shouldn’t reassure her the way it does, especially after the way she has treated him but she clings to him anyway. He’s her buffer for now, a crutch for tonight and tonight only. Once tonight is over and tomorrow begins she and Rowan can be professional, they managed it for months during filming and this should be no different.

Rowan still looks the way he did the night she broke his heart.

His silver hair falls elegantly over his forehead as he bends his head to talk to Manon, the pair of them are engrossed in a conversation as she and Fenrys walk over, not spotting them yet. She loves his hair, loves the thick silver waves and the way they feel between her fingers. She loves the way any attempt he makes to arrange the thick strands is never quite able to tame the beast. She loves the shirt he has on, with the sleeves rolled up exposing inches of tanned skin and dark ink, the same worn green cotton she wore numerous times around his living room all those months ago. She can still remember the feel of it against her bare skin.

His smile is the same, his green eyes crinkling as his lips barely part as he does his best to hold it back.

His smile is the same until he spots her.

He catches sight of her when she reaches the table and his smile drops, the shutters closing over his expression so fast she wouldn’t know he knew how to smile had she not just seen it.

It tears her chest in two and any attempt at a smile on her part is futile. It’s all she can do to make it to her seat without stumbling and she’s sure she misses any other greetings she gets as she slumps onto the chair opposite Manon. She absently notes Fenrys dropping in at her side.

She can’t look away from Rowan, her eyes scanning to try and find anything that distinguishes him from the man she loved all those months ago. She finds nothing. He’s still Rowan and Aelin still… fuck.

He recovers before she does, ever the collected courtier, clearing his throat and nodding.

“Aelin,” he says and she adores the sound of her name on his tongue.

“Hi Rowan,” she manages and hears how weak she sounds. Rowan hears it too. She can tell from the purse of his lips and the tension in the hand he rests along the back of Manon’s chair.

Aelin allows her eyes to drift to Manon and she finally catches the thunderous expression the younger girl wears.

“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.

“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.

Aelin is fucked.

“Five months and I get a hi?”

It’s loud and a few heads turn their way. It’s simultaneously mortifying and everything Aelin deserves.

“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.

She could lie, make up some useless excuses but in the end there’s nothing else but the truth and if Manon wants her to grovel she will, she’s just not sure this is the time or place.

Fenrys shares her thoughts. “Later, Manon,” he says, gently.

Rowan’s eyes stay firmly glued to the tablecloth as Manon frowns, seemingly unwilling to let it go.

After a few seconds, seconds Aelin spends waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her, Manon nods. She nods and turns to Fenrys, demanding to know what he’s ordering. And just like that Aelin has a moment to catch her breath.

She knew this dinner wouldn’t be easy, knew she’d be walking into the lion's den of her own making, but she hadn’t expected it to be as hard. Hadn’t expected seeing Rowan to feel like a slap, hadn’t expected Manon’s hurt to scrape across her skin leaving her raw.

She tries not to think she deserves it, Maeve would only raise a brow as if to say we’ve been over this. The thought is sobering, and she manages to lift her head.

It is what it is, what’s done is done and she can only apologise and move forwards.

As much as she tries to resist, Aelin finds herself watching Rowan throughout the night. It’s scary how familiar he feels, he should feel like a stranger, but he feels like she knows him too well. He laughs when she expects, rolls his eyes when she predicts. He orders what she thought he would and he sips away at an orange juice the way he did the first dinner they all had together.

Aelin already feels so different than she did the last time she was in Rifthold and he seems unchanged.

She observes for most of the night, feeling drained despite her minimal contributions to the conversations. She speaks when spoken to and actively avoids speaking when Rowan does, she definitely doesn’t respond to anything he says even though she wants to at least twice and wants to laugh a couple more.

She makes it through and clings to Fenrys again as they all leave, linking her arm through his as they leave the restaurant. He knows what she’s doing but graciously guides her out of the building. Once on the pavement outside the restaurant he pauses and turns to her.

“What hotel are you staying in while you’re here?”

The rest of the group are milling about, calling taxis and bidding their farewells. Aelin doesn’t know how she’s getting back yet, she’s assuming she’ll split a ride with someone.

“Um, the Glass Castle, I think,” she says, desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she dumped her bags in a few hours earlier.

“Boo,” Fenrys laughs, pointing his thumb down. “They’ve got me in the Torre Cesme. Think I’m ages away from you.”

Aelin laughs, disappointed but ready to order her own taxi back when a voice she didn’t expect sounds.

“I’ve just ordered a cab to the Glass Castle, I’m staying there too. You can jump in if you want.”

Rowan.

She shoots Fenrys a panicked look but his expression is pure glee.

“That would be great thanks, Boss,” Fenrys says, shrugging his arm out of hers and nudging her towards Rowan.

“No problem, Boyo.” Rowan offers Fenrys a dark grin at the nickname and the sight of it stills her. It’s new, he used to roll his eyes whenever Fenrys would drop it into conversation, but now Rowan’s playing along. And the grin, the curl of the lips and the narrowing of the eyes, it’s sexy as fuck.

It’s only taken one night and she’s back in the danger zone. She doesn’t want to be, hell, she wants him to take her back to his hotel room and peel off her clothes but this is Rowan. She’s spent the last few months trying to get over him, falling into bed with him the first night she sees him again would not likely be defined as progress.

He’s also not likely to want that after what she did.

“You don’t have to,” she says. The first direct thing she’s said to him since their greeting.

“I know.” A slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “But we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t seem logical to take different cars.”

Logic. That’s all it is.

“Right.” She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so awkward with him, not even at the start. “Thank you,” she says, following him to the car.

Fenrys shoots her a grin as he slips into his own taxi. Traitor.

Rowan holds the door open for her and slips in behind her. She tries not to think anything of the fact he could have easily taken the front seat.

The ride is silent apart from the easy chit chat he makes with the driver, another thing she’s not sure she noticed him do before, and she stares out the window as the city passes by. The streets of Rifthold are not her home but she feels a brightness as she glances down the curving roads, spotting groups of people milling about enjoying the night.

She knows the first call she made to Elide in weeks was the right call. Elide is the only person she’d trust with her bank account and access to real estate listings. The link to the flat her friend had sent over has stayed open in her browser since she got it.

It’s modern with classic twists, situated in a recently renovated old warehouse with miles of exposed brick and rustic wooden panelling. She loves the master bedroom the most, with its adjoining en suite with a huge bathtub she can picture herself soaking in. She has a viewing booked in two days but doubts she’ll even need it.

It’s not long before the taxi pulls up outside the hotel and she follows Rowan through the glass doors. He presses the button for the lifts and Aelin shifts in the awkward silence.

Awkward is not something she’s used to with Rowan. Or it wasn’t before.

The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.

He pauses with a hand hovering over the buttons for the floors. “Which floor?”

“Nine.”

Aelin hates these one word exchanges compared to the hours they used to share talking about everything and nothing. She can’t believe this is the man she was so vulnerable with.

His short huff of laughter drags her gaze to his face.

“What?”

“Makes sense,” is what he says, shaking his head and pressing only the button for the ninth floor.

The ride takes seconds, a minute at most, filled with the silence between them.

When the doors open to the ninth floor she steps out, determined not to follow him again, and she feels him follow her. Even now she’s so aware of his powerful body and the way he moves it. She shouldn’t be so attracted to the power emanating from him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the sureness of his steps. She wants him, doesn’t think she ever stopped, except now he’s the forbidden fruit. Forbidden only by her own actions.

She reaches her door, room 905, but pauses with her key tucked in her hand.

“Thanks for letting me share your cab,” she says, finding herself desperate not to say goodbye yet. “I can transfer you for half.”

That finally, finally, cracks a whisper of a smile but she’s not sure she enjoys his laughter if it’s at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

That should be the end of it, she should open her door and shut it behind her, they have a few weeks ahead of them that will be hard enough without any complications.

She left him and he seems gracious enough to have mostly moved past it.

“It was good to see you, Aelin,” he says, seemingly unwilling to let the night end as well. She doesn’t let the seed of hope sprout because what would be the point?

Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.

Rowan continues, “even if I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go.”

Her attention is spiked. “What do you mean?”

She can’t lie, a part of her expects him to back down at the edge to her voice. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to pretend nothing ever happened between us.”

She blinks, giving herself a second to process.

Maybe this isn’t the same Rowan from all those months ago. That night he let her walk away from him, gods know she needed it, but a dark little part of her had wanted him to fight her harder. Fight harder for her. When he hadn’t she’d taken it as her sign.

She knows the expectation was toxic, if he had fought her it would have only pissed her off, but she wishes she’d had someone to tell her it was the wrong choice. It would have helped to hear in the moment, rather than be faced with Rowan months down the line that she wants and can’t have.

The Rowan in front of her, the third Rowan she’s known, stares her down. His eyes peel away each of the layers she’s worked with Maeve for months to don in a second.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It’s honest and maybe she’s not the same Aelin as a few months ago either.

That’s what she had asked for that night in the cool air, to move past them with as little commotion as possible, stirring up as little attention as they could. She hadn’t wanted to let them eclipse the movie and yet that ended up being exactly what she had accomplished.

Now though, Aelin knows better.

Rowan nods as his eyes dart across her face. He seems to step closer without realising. Aelin notes the motion, still so aware of him and his proximity to her.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I was so angry at you for leaving.”

Aelin loses her breath at his confession.

Eventually she manages, “was?”

He looks away from her, glancing down the dark hallway, his jaw tight. When she’s with him she forgets about the world around them, there’s probably-definitely-CCTV in this hallway but he’s here and she can’t let him go yet.

His fists curl and uncurl as he takes a deep breath.

“Was,” he says shortly. “I was so angry at you, the way you did what you did was shit.”

Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.

“I know.”

“But now I don’t know.” She lifts her eyes to his, swimming in the openness she doesn’t deserve. And fuck that. That is such bullshit. She meets his stare, returning all that he isn’t saying. “I spent a long time thinking about it, thinking about you, and it took me a while but now I get it.”

That hurts more than she expects. She didn’t expect him to be all over her the minute they reunited but his understanding was always a kicker.

“I know why you did it,” he continues. “And that took most of the wind out of my sails.”

Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.

“I don’t think you do.” He tilts his head, an invitation for her to expand. “Or you’d know that nothing has changed.”

“Hasn’t it?”

His question throws her. Completely.

She tilts her head up to look at him, closer to her than he’s been all night, pushing her to keep being honest with him.

She’s dazed being this close to him again after so long, the green of his eyes stronger than she remembers. Or maybe her brain had assured her the memory of him couldn’t have been real.

“I don’t know,” she admits, unable to fight the way her body leans into him.

His teeth graze his lower lip and she follows the motion.

He’s silent for a beat too long and her skin is thrumming under his attention. She doesn’t know how she’s gone this long without him, she doesn’t know how she thought she’d survive never having him again.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says finally, drawing back and a rush of cool air fills the space he had taken. “Goodnight Aelin.”

He turns and she watches his back down the hallway. He slips easily into a room a few doors down and she’s left watching the path he’d taken, feeling the weight of his eyes on her lips.

Her head thuds against the door as she screws her eyes shut. She wants to scream, wants to chase him down the hall, wants to fly back to Orynth where she was safe.

She doesn’t do any of those things.

She tucks herself into her hotel room and readies herself for the whirlwind that’s about to hit. These next few weeks are going to be hard, not just dealing with the Rowan situation, but she can’t fight the excitement she feels.

Fuck. She’s back in Rifthold, back where she loves, doing what she was born to do.

This is big. She can feel it.

The Crescent City is not her first project, and so she’s been a part of press cycles before, she knows how they go. What she doesn’t know is how a press cycle for something like this works.

The only word she can find is insanity.

There are somehow earlier mornings than they had while shooting and often longer days. She gets poked and prodded in hair and make-up for hours before they spend all day sat in a hotel room filming repetitive interviews for various magazines.

She and Fenrys are genuinely friends and yet they still have to put on a show in front of the cameras. She plays up her laughter when he cracks a joke and he makes sure to never look away from her for longer than two seconds when she speaks or a producer behind the camera makes a comment.

She loves Fenrys but it’s exhausting. Her only blessing is that for most of her engagements she’s with Fenrys and Manon with Rowan conducting his own interviews separately as she had hoped.

Sometimes though, given their relatively similar ages and general level of chemistry, they get grouped together.

The four of them are filming a video for Buzzfeed, filling in a quiz to find out which character from The Crescent City they’re most like. She’s unsurprised to discover her result is Rhysand and it’s fun even if her heart does pound every time she has to act like she’s unfazed and friendly with Rowan.

There’s a moment, just a moment, where she almost breaks from her friendly and unbothered interview persona. It’s her turn to read the question, what item could you not survive without on a desert island?

It’s Rowan that speaks. “Her shampoo,” he says, “it’s jasmine.”

There’s a split second where she doesn’t speak, where all she can do is stare at Rowan, stunned that he remembered and thought to mention it now.

In that split second she’s transported back to memories of them together in the shower at her rented apartment, kissing lazily under the spray after spending hours between her sheets. She remembers dumping the shampoo into her hand and then onto his head, massaging his thick locks and surrounding them in the scent of jasmine.

She remembers how he kissed her neck as she did, trailing his hands over her silky curves, slick with the soap, with his kisses building in heat until her hands dropped to his shoulders. He’d lavished kisses down her chest until he’d jerked back, shampoo in his eyes and she’d laughed until he was safe and pressed his lips again to hers, continuing where he’d left off.

She’s shocked he’d bring this up when there’s a camera on the two of them and she can only imagine the comments it will spark. She’s not sure she cares if it keeps Rowan’s eyes on her.

“It’s luxurious for a reason,” she says when she recovers, tossing her thick locks over her shoulder. “Well worth it.”

She doesn’t miss the flicker in his own mask at her comment.

That kind of interaction will no doubt ignite the sparks she’d only ever wanted to avoid.

As the press cycle goes on and on, and they get closer and closer to the premiere it only becomes harder for her conviction to hold.

She tests her own argument, the clear line she drew in the sand, when she manages to keep it professional with Rowan and she’s not sure where that leaves her. She had thought they would overshadow everything about the project and now she’s not sure.

She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.

She’s still not sure who’s in the right.

Everything is simultaneously completely new and exactly the same. Rowan is still gorgeous, still charming in his own reserved way, still almost reverent when he talks about his craft throughout interviews. He still talks with his hands and Aelin still can’t draw her eyes away from their motions, she still craves the touch of them on her skin. He’s still seven years older than her and the director of her big break.

Yet there are differences.

They’re still often on the same page, offering similar answers and backing each other up but now he never backs down from a challenge. Now he doesn’t hold back those comments she knows he was always dying to let slip. She should be annoyed, everytime he drops a line that pushes her to expand a little part of her wants to roll her eyes.

She doesn’t though. Her blood heats and her skin prickles. She loves this with him. Loves the dance they play, the teasing, verbal games that shouldn’t start her off but do. She loves the smirk he wears when they end up down that path, and she knows she wears it’s mirror image.

She always ends up squirming in her seat and it should be wrong but it isn’t. The cameras can’t see below their chests and the flush in her cheeks could easily be from the warmth of the day.

She’s beginning to wonder if she’s powerless against Rowan Whitethorn. If she’s powerless against the green of his eyes or the curl of his accent. The slant of his brows or the points of his teeth when he smiles.

She doesn’t know that it’s just one thing. It’s all of the things, it’s all of him, and more so than ever she’s completely fucked.

But they aren’t talking outside of the interviews and photoshoots, and the knowledge of which hotel room is his itches her toes every night. It would be so easy to sneak down the hall, to knock on the door and slot her lips to his when he opened.

It’s only a couple of nights before the premiere when the temptation becomes too much. She’s been around Rowan all day, surrounded by the smell of his aftershave, the notes of pine and freshness and Rowan and it’s too much. She strides down the hallway, resolved in her decision and closes her fingers over the button for the lift.

She needs to be elsewhere or she’ll make some bad decisions.

She’s come so far, survived months without him, she can’t cave due to proximity.

The hotel bar is deserted when she walks in and makes a beeline to the bartender. Yeah, maybe after her wobble at the wrap party a bar isn’t the best decision she could make but her options are limited. Trying to sleep with Rowan is, after all, probably the worst of both options.

“Just a sparkling water please,” she says to the barman who nods and returns a moment later.

“Put it on my tab.” A voice from the end of the bar.

A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she closes her fingers around her glass. Of course he’s here. She should have spotted Rowan the minute she walked in and it’s cruel that the reason she didn’t was that her thoughts were too wrapped up in him.

“Be careful what you sign up for,” she says as she walks over, her steps measured as she comes to a stop before him. Her hips swing of their own accord and his eyes dart up and down the length of her. “I can put a number of these away.”

The smile he gives her is surprisingly unguarded. It seems he’s done holding himself back too. Aelin loves it.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, nodding at the stool next to him. She obliges as he speaks again. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”

He’s always on the same page as she is. Aelin shrugs, taking a sip of the drink he bought her.

They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure of how to break the silence between them when one of the last things they knew was the taste of each other’s lips.

“I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, that one day this will just be my job, but I never do,” Aelin says eventually, tracing a fingertip through the condensation gathered on her glass.

Rowan nods, smiling softly down at the bar and taking a sip of his own drink. An orange juice as usual.

“It’s hard to sleep at the end of days like today,” he says. “It’s why I’m in here.”

The bar is dark at the late hour, and quiet with no one else in there but them and the bartender. There’s something about the late hour, the darkness and the stillness surrounding them a break from the recent rush, that feels a little bit too close. She feels a little too exposed under the weight of his gaze but she rolls her shoulders back and leans an elbow on the bar as she turns towards him.

“I thought you’d be used to all of this by now,” she says and he cocks his head.

“Why?” His question is coy, begging her to expand.

“This is not your first rodeo and all of that,” she says with a smile.

Rowan laughs softly, the sound curving around her like an embrace.

“It can still be overwhelming after your first big movie,” he says gently, but with an edge to his voice that she needs to immediately get rid of.

“I don’t doubt that,” is what she whispers and his brow seems to soften, sensing her lack of malice.

She hates the way they’re in the position where he assumes the worst of her. She has to make that change.

“I don’t think if I get to do this for the rest of my life that it would ever feel normal.”

“No,” Rowan agrees, “I don’t think it could.”

“So then we need this film to do well.” Aelin shifts on the stool, finding herself leaning closer to him without conscious thought. He doesn’t retreat. He stands his ground until they’re only inches apart. “Lest we find ourselves fading into obscurity.”

“I doubt you ever could,” he says with a laugh and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.

As he looks at her, his expression soft in the dim light, his smile holds something special for her and her chest lifts that she managed it. That he was willing to give that to her.

“My agent sent over the initial critic reviews earlier,” he says and her stomach plummets.

“And?” she demands, her voice wobbling slightly. Her confidence from a minute ago vanished.

This is the moment where she could sink, the moment this could all be over.

“And they’re good,” he almost whispers.

“Good,” she repeats and it’s not a question but he nods.

She wants to throw herself at him at the news, a couple of months ago she wouldn’t have even hesitated, but now she sits clenching her fists and trying not to smile too wide. It feels like a waste. She’ll never get this feeling again.

She turns to him and he’s smiling so she does what she’s wanted to for months. Aelin leans forwards and wraps an arm over his shoulders, pressing her chest to his.

His arms slip up slowly over her shoulders at first, unsure but gaining confidence as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her further into his chest. Aelin laughs a little, throwing her other arm around him and resting her face against his shoulder.

It’s not enough, it never could be with him, but it will do. She’s just happy he didn’t push her away.

Eventually, after a length of time that feels far too short, she pulls back to see him gazing down at her with an expression she can’t name. His brows are drawn in with his lips gently parted. He’s happy but apprehensive, open but distant. Aelin will take what she can and the distance between them has always been too far.

She wants nothing more than to close it, to draw herself into him and he into her, but she can’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only and she refuses after what they’ve been through to mess it up again.

She knows he can read her own expression but she doesn’t care. She’ll hide from everyone and anyone but she’s realising she could never hide from him.

She wants Rowan, will probably want him for the rest of her life, but she made the call and he’s wrong, things haven’t changed.

Apart from all of the things that have.

The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.

Her stomach twists and she tosses and turns all night and the dark circles under her eyes are brutal as a result. Her make-up artist tuts but diligently packs concealer on until Aelin looks well rested. Or as close as she can.

She’s trying not to think of the stretch of carpet she’ll have to walk tonight, a smile plastered across her face as she poses for the hundreds of cameras. Their premiere is one of the biggest of the season and, along with Fenrys, she’s the star.

She’ll have nowhere to hide.

Aelin sits in front of her mirror, her hair and make-up are done but she’s yet to get dressed. She takes herself in, making sure to note every strand of hair to every line of her lips, feeling as though she needs to remember this moment. The moment before it all explodes.

They’ve been building to this for almost a year now and this is as close to a culmination as she’ll get.

Her dress is something fierce. Endless, flowing velvet in the darkest shade of black. Long sleeves and a fitted bodice with an almost indecent dip in the back. The dress would be modest without that cut out, she can’t wear any underwear it dips so low.

It would be a simple dress, some might even dare to say boring, if it weren’t for the back. The majority of the fabric that remains is covered in gold embroidery taking the form of a dragon, coiled to strike. Aelin adored the dress the moment her stylist revealed it to her. She didn’t consider any of the other dresses, didn’t even acknowledge them as options.

The dress is what she needs, something strong, something to help her hold her head up high. She can walk the red carpet and stare down every single person who doubted her and know that they were wrong.

Aelin doesn’t need their approval. She doesn’t need the reassurance of faceless commenters, she doesn’t need the support of the magazines and the newspapers. She doesn’t need her mother’s approval. On anything.

Aelin is confident and self-assured and she can walk the red carpet knowing that.

Her sessions with Maeve have helped to reassure her stance, but she’s realising day by day she’s known it all along. It’s just taken a little bit of digging to uncover it.

She slips into her dress and it slides on like a second skin. She takes in her appearance, the arch of her brow and the red smirk of her lips makes her look intriguing, like a confident young woman.

Aelin was born to be an actress but she’s proud to say the sight in the mirror is real.

She poses for a few photos before she’s led out of her room and into the car, waiting to take her to the theatre.

She spends the ride in silence, barely listening to the jabbering of the aide in the car with her, and she focuses her thoughts on the calm before the storm. She takes deep breaths and centres herself the way Maeve has taught, she knows this could so easily be overwhelming but she’s determined to enjoy it.

The car stills and she can hear the noise of the crowd outside. She takes a final deep breath and allows her lips to spread into a smile. This one is genuine, nothing forced about it, and she pauses for one last beat.

This is big and Aelin is ready.

The car door opens and the sound hits her like a wave, slamming down onto her and it's so loud she can hardly think.

This is it. This is the moment she has dreamed of.

The nights where this image was all she could cling to to make it through could never have compared to how it feels standing here now, screams of her own name wrapping around her and urging her on.

Her steps are slow and purposeful as she glides down the path forged for her, the red carpet beneath her stilettos is plush and bright. She pauses where she’s instructed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at the cameras with a hand on her hip.

She knows she looks incredible and the shouts of the photographers do nothing to change her mind. They are here for her, they’re all here for what she has accomplished, along with Fenrys, Manon, Chaol and Rowan and everyone else involved.

There are so many forces upon her, the flashing of the lights, the screams and shouts calling her name or Fenrys’, the magnitude of what this is could knock down a lesser individual but all it does is raise Aelin up.

She’s been through worse than this and survived, she’ll stare down the lense of all of these cameras, of everyone who has ever spoken her name and she won’t cower, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.

A warm hand lands on her waist and somehow the flashes of the cameras explode.

“Hey, golden girl.” Fenrys’ words are almost hard to hear even though his lips brush her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin wraps her arm around his back and grins, “I thought I’d at least show my face.”

He returns her smile and together they pose for the cameras, their shoulders back and smiles confident. She’s not sure this could be better.

Until she turns slightly to her left and gets flashes of silver where she and Fenrys are gold.

Rowan and Manon, posing for their own pictures mere metres away. He looks spectacular, the deep black of his tuxedo doing nothing but bringing out the depth of his tan and the shine of his silver hair.

He’s smiling his public smile and it’s gorgeous even though it’s not her favourite of his smiles, she loves the private ones he used to save just for her, and her own smile falters at the sight.

She’s here with Fenrys and it’s not wrong but it doesn’t feel right. The arm around her waist shouldn’t belong to Fenrys.

She should be where Manon is, smiling up at Rowan while they marvel at what they’ve accomplished. She knows her smile has dropped and she fumbles for anything to plaster onto her expression other than the longing she feels for Rowan.

As if she’d called his name he turns to her, green colliding with blue, and she knows he feels the same.

And that hurts far more than all of the months they spent apart.

All the months she spent hurting, trying to deny what she always knew, trying to pretend that they were anything other than a force of nature. They had been an eclipse, threatening to over take all of this but she was wrong. Rowan was wrong too.

It doesn’t matter whether everything or nothing has changed because she wasn’t right in the first place.

She should have known better than to think that whatever flimsy decision she made could halt what they were, what they should be.

She can only hope he forgives her. She can only hope he feels the same.

But the thing about this new Rowan is that she can’t read him the way she used to read her Rowan, she can’t tell if the way he steels himself and turns away from her is a dismissal or if the look they shared had been just as painful for him as it had been for her.

“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter

“Fenrys Moonbeam shines alongside Aelin Ashryver in The Crescent City. See our full review here.” - Wyrd Stone

“Latest Rowan Whitethorn flick smashes Box Office records.” - Valg Weekly

“Unapologetic, daring and thought provoking. Award nominations expected to follow for The Crescent City.” - Terrasen Tribune

Her phone has not stopped buzzing for the past four days.

Dorian texts every waking hour with the updates he gets, the numbers coming in and all her latest offers. It’s surreal. She knew they were good but she’s not sure she ever really expected this. Aedion texts her a picture every time he sees or hears her name, it should be terrifying the frequency with which he texts her but she has to fight back her smile each time he does.

She managed to find an hour the night before to call Lysandra and the majority of their call had consisted of Aelin repeatedly asking what the fuck was happening while Lysandra cackled down the phone.

She’d even got a text from Lorcan. It was alright, he’d written. Followed by, I hope I die before ever having to watch you make out with someone like that again.

She’d sent three middle finger emojis and a kissy face in response.

Now is probably not the best time to move to a different country but she’d signed her name on the papers two days before the premiere and Rifthold is calling, irrespective of the fact she’s only been back in Orynth for two days.

Most of her stuff headed out yesterday with the moving company leaving Aelin with two suitcases to fly back to Rifthold with tomorrow.

There’s one last place she needs to go before she heads back to finally get a good night's sleep before her flight tomorrow. She’s never set foot in this graveyard before, she’s never had the courage to dare before, but she’s emboldened. By the success of the movie, by her progress in the past year, by her sessions with Maeve. This has felt like a natural step.

The shining, black headstone is understated and classy and completely to his taste.

Sam Cortland. Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.

Aelin waits with her head bowed, allowing all of her emotions to rush through her veins. She doesn’t fight them, it would be pointless to try, and she embraces the tears that gather. Eventually she steps forwards, placing the smooth, small stone on the crest of the headstone.

She rests her hand on the cool stone for a moment before sinking down and crossing her legs beneath her as she leans against it.

“I’ve missed you,” she says aloud, “I can almost hear you telling me to stop being such a sappy shit. I can’t help it, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She pauses, letting the wind drift through the field sweeping her words away.

There’s no one else here but her and Sam, no one else she’d want to hear her confession.

“I wonder what you would have made of all this. I think you’d tell me to enjoy it all, to not miss a moment, and I’m not. I’m just choosing the ones I want to savour. And this is one of them, Sam. I wish you’d been there with me, you would have loved it, the cameras, the lights, everything.

“I have to keep pinching myself to know it’s real, I did it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”

She sighs, letting her head tip back to rest against the stone. She didn’t prepare anything to say, didn’t realise she’d even want to speak to the open air but here she is.

“I’m not the same Aelin as the girl you knew anymore,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think I would have the capacity to love again after you but I did, and I feel terribly guilty that I do. I have to remind myself that this is what you would have wanted, you would have wanted me to be happy.”

The silence in the field is more than an answer enough. So typically Sam to give her an answer without so much as speaking a word.

“I was happy,” she says, trailing a fingertip along the words etched into the stone. “I will be again.”

A faint haze of sunlight drifts through the Orynth autumn clouds, a whisper compared to the chorus of brightness she misses in Rifthold, and she stands, brushing off the dirt from her jeans. She touches the stone one last time before turning and heading out of the graveyard.

Her visit was years overdue but her chest didn’t crack open the way she had expected, the tears hadn’t been relentless the way she had expected. She’ll visit him again the next time she’s back in Orynth, probably visiting Elide and Lorcan for Yulemass, and she’ll visit again and again for as long as she lives.

But for now, she has a plane to catch.

Months later and two days before the Oscars, when they’re all back in town for the ceremony held in her new home city of Rifthold, Fenrys throws another party.

She’s managed, this time, to stay in touch with Fenrys and Manon, having made up with the younger girl before the press cycle had finished. Aelin knows her upset was real but partly suspects the animosity was a front. She even finds herself participating in the group chat with the three of them and Rowan. She’s only texted him one to one once to wish him a happy birthday and they had caught up briefly but not texted since.

She’s missed him in a different way to the last time she missed him. This time missing him doesn’t feel necessary, it feels wrong not to text him, wrong to be away from him and she’s itching to see him again.

It’s no one's birthday this time but they’re all together again to celebrate, no matter the results they’ll see in two days. Aelin is very carefully measuring her excitement about her own nomination for best actress. Fenrys is up for best actor, Rowan best director and the movie best picture.

She’d almost dropped her phone in the toilet when she found out from Dorian a few weeks ago.

The party is small but still in full swing by the time she arrives. Big names from the industry, all in town for the ceremony, are scattered all around Fenrys’ Rifthold apartment. He’d bought a place here not long after Aelin and she’s secretly relieved she’s not the only one so moved by their experience.

She waves to a few people she knows and tries to stay calm when she spots Sartaq Khagan in the corner chatting away to a small group of people. Holy shit Fenrys has some famous friends.

Aelin finds herself a glass, tops her orange juice off with a splash of lemonade and begins her rounds. So many more people want to talk to her after the movie dropped.

Her mother had been one of them, and Aelin’s thumb had hovered over the accept button for a moment before decidedly pressing decline. She had blocked her mother’s number a moment later, and then she had made some calls closing the bank account her mother kept topped up and arranging for every penny she’d ever received from Evalin Ashryver to be paid back.

It had hurt, emotionally and financially, especially in the month she’d moved to Rifthold, but it had been worth it. To never let Evalin pass any judgement over her life again was a relief worth any cost. Aelin’s hoping there’s a possibility she could end up with a reward.

She doesn’t know how long she spends talking to big name after big name and it’s a realisation that drops onto her that she fits in here. Aelin Ashryver is a big name. No matter the outcome of the ceremony she has prospects, already a number of projects lined up and she’s loving every minute of it.

She drains her cup for the third time tonight and heads back into the kitchen. She’s barely seen Fenrys all night, and she doesn’t even know if Manon is here.

She frowns into the fridge, there was definitely a full bottle of orange juice in here the last time she topped herself up. She shuts the fridge and spins around.

“Looking for this?”

She should have known.

Rowan looks predictably gorgeous in the dim kitchen lighting. All tanned skin and silver smiles. He’s dressed in her favourite look of his too, worn denim jeans and a soft cotton shirt.

It’s the softness in his gaze that really takes her though, it seems the animosity from the last time they saw each other has faded if not disappeared. Her chest squeezes at the thought. She has no idea what could have triggered it but she will take it.

“Nope,” she says, stepping over to where he stands with an arm braced against the counter at his side, the other holding out a bottle of orange juice. “I was hoping Fenrys would have some chocolate in there but I guess this will have to do.”

She takes the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing his and she feels her cheeks heat at the innocent brush.

His smile is genuine and she knows what he’s remembering because she’s thinking of it too. The first time she visited his house during filming and their moment in the kitchen. They’ve been through cycles, she supposes, but hopefully now for the better.

“I’m sure we can find you some somewhere in here,” he says as she fills her cup, pulling open the cupboard next to his head.

Aelin smirks. “I’m going to leave the rummaging through Fenrys’ cupboards to you. You could find anything in there.”

Rowan winces, closing the door before returning her smile. This is friendly and the hope that’s been planted in her chest begins to sprout.

“Yeah, maybe not,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “We wouldn’t want to risk it.”

Aelin pauses for a moment, taking in the glory of him in front of her. He’s still Rowan, he’s still tall and deliciously broad. His silver hair is slightly more grown out and there are a couple more lines around his eyes but she doesn’t care, in fact it’s charming. He’s still and always will be stunning. She takes a sip of her drink before she takes one of her biggest risks so far.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, not daring to look away from his face.

He bites his lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin before he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”

The smile that spreads across her face is all too telling but he’s smiling too so she doesn’t think it matters. He definitely feels the same and she’d be annoyed at the months she spent worrying but the relief is too sweet.

“Good,” is what she says, far too happy they’re here to bother with pretending she’s anything other than ecstatic. “Congrats on your nomination.”

His eyes dart to the floor and then back up at her, he’s too modest about his own skill and Aelin adores it. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you too.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”

“Me neither,” Rowan says.

He’s close to her now, closer than he has been to her for months and her skin cries out for contact. She almost can’t believe she’s here now, talking to Rowan without any animosity, days before the Oscars that she’s nominated in.

The smile that takes over her face is completely of its own accord. She’s floating and it seems Rowan is too if the beat they share, exchanging incredulous smiles, is anything to go by.

“It’s crazy, right?”

She’s been asking herself the question for so long it seems only natural it slips out to him.

He laughs softly, and the rough sound curls straight to her core.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice low. “I don’t think last time felt like this.”

Aelin slaps a gentle hand to his chest and ignores the thrill that shoots through her at the eventual contact. “I get it, this is not your first nomination.”

Rowan rolls his eyes and she didn’t know how much she missed this, playing with him. She adores his reaction every time, the begrudging amusement he only lets shine through to make her smile.

“Some of us have never been nominated before, this is all completely new.” Aelin takes a sip of her drink. “I had to give up my social media accounts to Elide, it got so crazy.”

Something flickers over Rowan’s face at her comment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes darting across his face trying to decipher the expression. “She’s always had access and I still do so I can post if I want to but it just became a lot. It stopped being fun when I would see what people were saying, whether it was good or bad I don’t want to see it anymore.”

Rowan nods before his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity in his expression shreds her control.

“And you said nothing had changed?”

Aelin gets it now.

She shifts her weight, leaning as close to him as she can without sliding herself completely into the circle of his arms. “I was wrong. Lots of things have changed,” she says, her voice quiet but strong. “And lots of things are now right that weren’t before.”

She doesn’t mean to skirt around the truth, hiding in veiled words and double meanings, but as always, Rowan sees her. He sees her meaning and he smiles. It’s the most beautiful smile Aelin has ever seen him wear.

“I’ve been looking for you two.”

Fenrys bursts into the kitchen, startling Aelin back from Rowan. She hides her guilty smile in her drink and notices Rowan doing the same. Fenrys just grins, clearly enjoying whatever he thinks he’s seeing.

“You’re missing out, we’re playing kings in the living room if you want to join?”

Rowan glances at her before he turns back to Fenrys. “I think we’re good, thanks.”

Fenrys’ smile turns smug and Aelin resists the temptation to flip him off. She’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed at him.

“Okay, see you later, lovebirds,” Fenrys says, already on his way back out of the door.

Aelin pretends she isn’t blushing as she turns back to Rowan, his green eyes shining.

“This might sound crazy,” he says with an alluring tilt to his lips, “but do you want to get out of here?”

She’s reached a point she truly never thought she would.

She’s an Oscar-nominated lead actress in a box-office-record-breaking movie.

She’s happy, healthy and out from underneath the thumb of Evalin Ashryver.

The part that’s most uplifting, the part that has her unable to wipe the smile off her face as she strolls down the streets of Rifthold, is the arm she has tucked through Rowan’s.

They’ve been walking for a little while, enjoying the cool night air and the ease with which they managed to sneak out of Fenrys’ party. Her heels are killing her and Rowan very graciously offers her an arm to lean on and each time she takes a step in time with him she smiles.

“I never thought I’d like doing television,” he says.

She didn’t know he’d taken on a miniseries, similar to the one she’d done after filming, but she’s loving the recap she’s getting of the months they’ve been apart. The chill of the air is more than fought off by the warmth of Rowan by her side. The streets are mercifully empty and she can bask in the knowledge that it’s just the two of them out here, that they’re insignificant, that anyone who sees them will immediately dismiss them.

“I always thought I’d stick to movies, singular stories but I enjoyed it. I guess change can be good.”

Aelin laughs softly and squeezes his arm. He looks down to her, a question written in the slant of his brow.

“Change can definitely be good,” she says as she takes in the sights of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “I would know that I suppose.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”

“You did?”

He’s so graciously giving her the floor to say what she needs to say and she holds his arm even tighter.

“It’s right here in Rifthold.” Aelin avoids his gaze, lest he think it’s a speedy invitation and that that’s all this is. “I bought it just after we were back here for press, I realised that I adore Rifthold and being here. I missed it when I wasn’t here and I don’t feel there’s anything holding me in Orynth anymore.”

Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.

“What?” she demands.

“I swear I’m not following you,” he says and she feels a smile creep onto her face. “I bought a loft here too.”

Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”

Rowan’s smile twists as he looks away from her. “I didn’t say I sold the house.”

Aelin cackles as she squeezes his arm, the sound joyous and bright as it echoes around them. “I knew being Mr Big-Name-Director has its perks.”

“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.

Aelin wants to kiss that smirk. Wants to pull him down and twist her fingers through his hair as his own tangle along her skin.

Instead she says, “I copied you somewhat too.”

He only raises a brow.

“I bought a piano like the one in your house. It was too big for my old flat in Orynth and so I knew what I had to do.”

“That’s good,” he says as his arm drops out of hers. She almost pouts until he instead tangles their fingers together. Her smile says it all, reflected back in his own. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks are glowing. “You’ll have to come over and I’ll play for you sometime, neighbour.”

“I’d love to.”

Aelin slows, using the hand tangled with his to pull him to a stop too. Her free hand trails a gentle path up his chest before coming to rest at his collar, her fingertips tracing the golden skin peeking out from his shirt. His free hand finds her waist.

They’re close, closer than they have been in such a long time when he speaks.

“I don’t know what you think has or hasn’t changed.” His hand leaves hers to cup her cheek. “But I still feel the way I used to about you.”

Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.

“I do too, Rowan.” Some of the easiest words she’s ever said to him. There’s something about the way the streetlights shine through the silver tips of his hair and the way his calloused fingers feel between hers that she’s feeling brave. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

His eyes flicker across her face as his smile dawns, taking over his face as he smiles so brightly. This is all she’s ever wanted, to have a Rowan like this, with pure, unfiltered happiness in his eyes as he looks at her.

“You love me?”

“I do. To whatever end.”

His lips are barely a whisper from hers and she only acknowledges the thought that they’re in public for long enough to realise she doesn’t care.

“And I love you.”

His words are simple, but sweet. They wash over her and settle into her skin as his lips land on hers. He kisses her with what she can only describe as love. His lips pour devotion onto her and his hands light a fire inside her as he tastes her tongue.

They kiss for longer than she can keep a track of, wrapped up together illuminated only by the street lighting. She’s missed this, missed him, and she can’t help but feel right when his hands are on her. She can’t help but feel right as she stretches onto her toes to throw herself into his kiss.

This was never wrong, this was one of the first things she knew was right.

She loves him and he loves her and nothing and nobody else matters.

She doesn’t win the Oscar, and neither does Rowan. Fenrys does and she screams herself hoarse cheering him on as he makes his way to the stage.

The moment that takes the cake is when The Crescent City takes best picture. She takes to the stage with some of her best friends to recognise what they achieved together and maybe she is a soppy shit but she definitely cries. Fenrys laughs at her and Manon grins but Rowan just throws his arm around her shoulders and it's worth it.

Afterwards, she logs into her Instagram account for the first time in a long time. She posts a picture of Rowan looking absolutely delicious with his tux unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging untied around his neck with a greasy burger in one hand and hers in his other.

Posting him is a statement but she doesn’t care. In fact, she wants the world to know. She wants the world to know that nobody does it like he does. Nobody does it like they do.

#rowaelin #nobody does it like you do #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #rowaelin au #ndilyd #i cant believe it's the last part of this fic #crazy #hope you all enjoyed

[pandoraswrld]

— WILDEST NIGHTS is the third studio album from girl group BLACK ROSE. It was released on September 3, 2020 under SM Entertainment. The group promoted title track “Feel Good” and b-side “Friday Night” from September 4th to September 27th.

— TRACKLIST

Feel Good ( inspo )

Friday Night ( inspo )

Girls ( inspo )

Maze ( inspo )

Sequence ( inspo )

Full Moon ( inspo )

What Ya Do ( inspo )

Only One ( inspo )

Universe ( inspo )

— ACHIEVEMENTS

“Feel Good” did averagely good on the charts, peaking at number 5 and maintaining its position in the top 20 for the rest of promotions.

The album itself sold around 89k copies and the music video for “Feel Good” currently has 20 million views.

The song received two music show wins.

Was nominated for album of the year at several award shows but didn’t win anything.

— ERA HIGHLIGHTS

Nothing too exciting actually happened this era, it was just good vibes.

Everything was party themed for this concept and it was all about having fun.

SM pretty much let them just relax and do what they wanted with this comeback, they were more focused on communicating with the fandom this time.

Yewon started a little miniseries on the group youtube channel where she just posts three minute videos of her cats.

Bitna started doing gaming nights on their vlive every week.

Each member opened up their own personal instagram account and some even made twitter accounts.

The girls were allowed to talk more liberally with Rosettes and it wasn’t uncommon for them to reply to comments and tweets.

Someone started a rumour that one version of the album had PCs of the former members which made Rosettes buy out that version completely until they realised they had been played.

A lot of interactions with Jinx, who were promoting at the same time as them.

Rosettes adopted the girls and started calling them Black Rose’s little sisters.

They had so many special stages this comeback!

A lot of them were just the album b-sides but they also covered f(x)’s Four Walls, SNSD’s Mr. Mr. and Red Velvet’s Peek-A-Boo during their last week of promotions.

When the girls teased a repack coming by the end of the year the fandom went crazy.

It would be the first time they had three comebacks in a year and Rosettes could not have been more excited for what was to come!

— STYLING HIGHLIGHTS

Hime had black hair with a lilac ombre.

Hyebin had black hair.

Sera had dyed her hair a bright blue and cut it short.

Aejung’s hair was blonde, having grown a lot from the last era.

Yewon’s hair also stayed blonde, often coloured with different highlights for performances.

Yuna had a deep red hair colour.

Juliet’s hair had faded from its red and was now a strawberry blonde.

The styling for this era was definitely... something.

It was either joutfits or hideous patterns, no in between. On one stage it was both and let’s say that neither the girls or the fans were particularly happy with the outfits.

It was super colourful though, almost every girl had been dressed with each colour of the rainbow by the time promotions were done.

#bobakocnet #aeskocnet #blackrose — discography #kpop oc #kpop oc group #fake kpop idol #fake kpop group #finally this is out of the drafts

[zaffrenotes]

elpída: part iii

Book: The Royal Heir, Future Rating/Warnings: PG (language) / Character death(s) will be mentioned Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * OCs are my creation * Set roughly 20 years into the future of the TRH timeline. I was inspired to write this miniseries based on an ad I saw last November. This does not follow the full TRH timeline from the book. * elpída is the Greek word for “hope” *  Word Count: +/- 1800

Perma & TRR/TRH Taglist: @ao719 @annekebbphotography @blackcatkita @brightpinkpeppercorn @desireepow-1986 @gibbles82 @innerpostmentality @loveellamae @smalltalk88 @thecordoniandiaries @aworldoffandoms @bascmve01 @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @custaroonie @darley1101 @dcbbw @hopefulmoonobject @iplaydrake @kingliam2019 @lodberg @lovemychoices @missevabean @rainbowsinthestorm @superharriet @the-soot-sprite @omgjasminesimone @kimmiedoo5 @texaskitten30 @princess-geek​ @queenjilian​ @gardeningourmet​

“There’s one more thing,” Leo calls out from the other room.

Teddy sniffles once more and takes a deep breath, gathering up her full skirts and her strength to join Leo in the other room once more.

“Your parents wanted you to have these for your coronation.” He reaches into his jacket pocket again, pulling out a square, black velvet box. With a tiny flourish, he lifts the lid to show Teddy the contents, and she lets out a small gasp.

“Is that…Mama’s pearl pendant?” She reaches out to touch the solitary pearl, strung on a white gold chain.

“The very one,” Leo replies.

Teddy was familiar with the story of the pearl. Liam had found it in a grotto in Italy, hiding it away in hopes of being able to give it to the woman he loved. Years later, he gave it to Katrina – under peculiar circumstances was the only answer her parents provided – who asked him to hold on to it until she was somehow worthy of wearing it. Once they were engaged, Liam had it set and strung as a pendant, giving it to Katrina on their wedding night. She wore it as often as possible, and Teddy remembered how much she loved to play with it as a child, holding the pearl between her fingers every time she curled up in her mother’s lap for a story.

20+ years ago...

“Assassins. Assassins! On our wedding day! As if the life I imagined with you couldn’t get any more surreal!”

Liam tipped his chin down and looked over at Katrina, grinning at his wife. His Queen. His Love. Her cheeks were flushed pink and one hand lay resting on her chest, the other draped lazily across her forehead. Two bands sparkled on her ring finger, and he grinned at the sight of them.

“What’s on your mind?” She stretched her hand across the small space that separated them in the bed, tapping him lightly on the nose.

They’d been up before dawn to prepare for their wedding day, undergoing not one, but two threats on their lives from Anton’s attempts to usurp the Crown. “You’re amazing,” Liam sighed, reaching over to hold Katrina’s hand. He pulled her closer and kissed her knuckles. “Absolutely, undeniably, amazing.”

Katrina grinned back at her husband of half a day as he settled against the stack of down pillows. “You’re not so bad yourself, dear husband.” She sighed happily, rolling to her side to look at him.

Liam tipped his chin down once more, almost bashfully at the compliment, before scooting closer to Katrina. “That’s not quite what I was referring to,” he chuckled. He lifted his gaze to her again, taking in the way her raven hair scattered around her and the pillow in loose curls, and the softness in her face. “I always knew you were strong in character, Trina,” he began. “I knew that from the night we met. I hate the way your inner strength was tested over and over again since that night, but I’m also grateful things happened the way they did, to get to this moment. Here, you and I, as husband and wife.”

“I could’ve done with fewer near-death experiences,” Katrina teased back. Liam tilted his head at her, and she continued speaking; she knew when he looked at her that way that he was trying to have a serious moment. “But getting through the metaphorical gauntlet was worth it. You are worth it, and I’d do it all again if I had to, because I love you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Liam replied, pressing his lips to hers with a sweet kiss. He pressed his forehead to hers, before leaning back and twisting over to retrieve something from his nightstand. “That’s why I want to give you this,” turning to her once more. He presented a small black velvet box, placing it on the mattress. Clasping the bedsheet to her body, Katrina sat up, looking between the jewelry box and up at Liam, who had an anxious smile plastered across his face. “Open it,” he urged.

Katrina tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, reining in a smile, and picked up the box, cracking it open…and felt her heart swell. “Is this what I think it is?” She looked up at Liam again, blinking back tears of disbelief, and he nodded silently as the anxiety faded from his smile and bloomed to pride. She slipped her fingers under the perfect solitaire pearl pendant, strung on a white gold chain, and gently pulled it free.

“You said you wanted me to wait to give it to you until you were worthy of wearing it,” Liam said softly. “I thought you were already worthy of it the night at the Blue Grotto, because you were worthy of my heart.” He reached out his hand and Katrina set the necklace into his palm. She twisted around and pulled her hair over one shoulder while Liam undid the clasp on the chain.

“You know, in preparation for the wedding, Regina took me to the vault to pick out my jewelry,” Katrina replied, feeling Liam’s forearms on her shoulders as he arced the pendant over her head. “Rows and rows of glittering diamonds, sparkling gemstones in every shade of the rainbow,” she continued, feeling Liam’s full lips against the back of her neck. She let out a tiny sigh of pleasure at his touch. “But this is the most valuable piece of jewelry to me, aside from my wedding band and engagement ring,.”

Liam wrapped his hands around her shoulders and kissed the side of her neck, and Katrina leaned into him. “This is just the beginning, my Love,” he uttered, the words vibrating gently against her skin with each kiss.

Katrina reluctantly pulled herself away from him, shifting to face him once more. She looked at him expectantly, watching Liam’s eyes as they traveled from her face to her chest, where the pendant rested. A satisfied grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, turning to a different look altogether when she let the sheet fall to her waist. “How does it look?”

“Devastatingly perfect, my darling wife,” Liam answered. His bright, coffee colored eyes shifted to deep espresso, and Katrina’s lips curled at the way he tensed his jaw. “I know it’s been a long day, but I need to make love to my wife…again.”

---

“Mama, did you hear me?”

A tiny hand pressed against Katrina’s cheek, and she stirred away from the memory of her wedding night. “Hmm? What’s that, my little bear?” She looked down at Teddy, who’d moved her hand from Katrina’s cheek and was back to playing with the pearl pendant around her neck.

“Tell me again, how Daddy found this,” Teddy answered, holding the pearl between her thumb and middle finger. “In the blue water?”

Katrina took in a long breath and kissed the top of Teddy’s freshly bathed head, her dark hair still damp. “When Daddy was a young man, before we met, he went to a place called the Blue Grotto with Theíos Leo,” she began. “They went diving, and Daddy found this pearl in an oyster. Theíos told Daddy that this pearl would win the heart of any woman he gave it to, but Daddy didn’t have anyone whose heart he wanted to win over, so he hid it in the Grotto and hoped it would be there when he found someone to love.”

“And then?”

“And then, one night when we were in Italy, Daddy took me to this secret spot and he went diving to see if he could find it again…and he did! He told me white pearls symbolize beauty, purity, and new beginnings, and are believed to bring good luck and protection to those that wear them.”

PRESENT DAY

“What’s that?” she inquires, looking curiously at a white gold cuff.

Leo removes the bracelet from the box, handing it to Teddy. “Something your parents commissioned for you before…well, before we all had to leave,” he answers.

She takes the bracelet from him, admiring the diamonds and sapphires that sparkle before her, set in an Art Deco style. It matches her gown, as if her parents had glimpsed into the future. She squints at something on the underside, pulling it closer to read an inscription, and feels a bittersweet aching in her heart while imaginary balloons drift down from her head and lodge into her throat. Her chin trembles with emotion as she looks up to meet her uncle’s eyes.

Whenever you feel overwhelmed…remember whose daughter you are and straighten your crown.

Leo makes a tiny, strangled sound as he tries to speak, coughing to clear his throat before trying again. “Your dad, my brother…he would’ve moved heaven and earth to be the one to give this to you tonight,” he chokes out. “Your mom and dad would be so incredibly proud of you today. I wish to all the gods that they’d be the ones sitting with you now, instead of your sorry excuse of an uncle,” he jokes, sad smile quivering across his lips.

“Theíos, you’ve been a great uncle,” she reassures him, reaching forward to squeeze his arm with affection. “You and Theía Katie took me in and sacrificed so much to keep me safe. I can never repay you for that.”

His bright blue eyes are wet with tears, and he pats her shoulder in silent acknowledgement. “We’d do it again in a heartbeat, kiddo.”

She holds up a wrist to him. “Help your niece, one more time?”

Leo chuckles, taking the bracelet from her, and opens the clasp. He slips it onto her gloved wrist with care. They both have to dab at their eyes to wipe away fresh tears. She turns in place, and Leo unclasps the pearl pendant, draping it in front of Teddy as he fiddles to secure the chain.

It’s cold against her skin, and she shivers gently. As Leo secures the necklace he whispers a tiny “there” behind her, and her fingertips press the pearl to her chest. She wouldn’t be able to have her parents in the room, but she’d be able to feel their presence with their gifts.

Teddy stands to take a long breath, closing her eyes once more. She gathers the balloons in her mind, stuffing them behind the door one more time, and her face relaxes to a solemn, stoic expression. “Let’s get this thing over with, shall we?”

Leo rises, and Teddy loops her hand through his arm as he escorts her out. She’s ready to officially take her place underneath Cordonia’s crown.

#the royal heir fanfiction #TRH fanfic #TRH AU #TRR AU #the royal heir au #choices fanfiction #playchoices fanfic #tw: death #tw: character death #the royal heir miniseries #king liam x mc #zaffrenotes fanfiction #zaffrenotes writes

[zebraljb]

Saturday Survey

rules: tag nine people who you want to know better/catch up with and then answer those questions

last song: Everlong by the Foo Fighters

last movie: Legally Blonde - I LOVE the last like 20 minutes of that movie.  So it was on last night and I was able to catch JUST the last 20 minutes. :)

currently reading: The Alienist by Caleb Carr. I have seen both miniseries and figure I need to read the book. Any excuse to keep thinking about Luke Evans.

currently watching: I started the very first episode of Orphan Black last night and am intrigued.

currently craving: a night where I can fall asleep without miserably evaluating my life

Tagging: @softnsquishable, @neveranygoodupthere, @muffinmiri, @velvet-of-the-night, @dreamcatcher3-ao3, @dauntlessdiva, @daenerystargaryensass, @stronglyobsessed, @snafu-07

[aion-rsa]

The Cinematic Legacy of Lupin: Arsène Lupin’s Live-Action Filmography

https://ift.tt/2ToNPSY

When Netflix premiered the first season of Lupin last January, 70 million sheltered-in-place households ravenously binged it, making the series the most-watched non-English show for its premiere month on the streamer so far. Lupin steals a page from French literature. The hero of Lupin, Assane Diop (Omar Sy) is inspired by France’s iconic ‘Gentleman Thief’ Arsène Lupin, a fictional figure created by French writer Maurice Leblanc in 1905. 

Lupin was the subject of some two dozen books by Leblanc, who continued adding into his literary franchise until well into the 1930s. Akin to Robin Hood, Lupin stole from the rich, and often did good deeds despite his thieving capers. He was a master of deception and disguise, a lady killer who always operated with a classy panache. With a legacy spanning more than a century, there have been plenty of live-action depictions in film and TV.

The First Lupin Films are Over a Hundred Years Old

The earliest cinematic portrayals of Lupin were in black and white, and many have been lost. One of the very first was a U.S. production, a short film titled The Gentleman Burglar in 1908. William Ranows, a veteran of over sixty films, played Lupin. It was directed by one of the first film directors ever, Edwin Porter, who worked for Edison. 

Leblanc was a contemporary of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes. Consequently, Holmes appears in a few Lupin stories. Doyle took legal action against Leblanc, forcing the name change in Lupin stories to the thinly disguised ‘Herlock Sholmes.’ As Holmes is loved by the British, Lupin is cherished by the French, and both characters became global icons. Consequently, among the many film and TV adaptations, several that depicted their rivalry regardless of copyright issues. In 1910, a German film serial titled Arsène Lupin contra Sherlock Holmes starred Paul Otto as Lupin and Viggo Larsen as Holmes (Larsen also served as director.) There were allegedly five installments in the series, but they’ve all been lost. 

France produced Arsène Lupin contre Ganimard in 1914 with Georges Tréville as Lupin (Inspector Ganimard was constantly on Lupin’s trail). The silent film Arsène Lupin came out of Britain in 1916 with Gerald Ames in the titular role, followed by more U.S. productions: Arsène Lupin (1917) starring Earle Williams, The Teeth of the Tiger (1919) with David Powell, which is also lost, and 813 starring Wedgwood Nowell. 813 was the title of Leblanc’s fourth Lupin book. 

Lupin and the Barrymore Clan of Actors

The legendary thespian John Barrymore played Lupin in 1932’s Arsène Lupin. He took on the role under one of Lupin’s aliases, the Duke of Charmerace. His brother, Lionel Barrymore, played another Lupin nemesis, Detective Guerchard. Given the illustrious cast, this is a standout Lupin film, although there isn’t a shred of Frenchness in Barrymore’s interpretation. Coincidentally, John Barrymore also played Holmes in Sherlock Holmes a decade earlier. He is also the grandfather of Drew Barrymore. 

Barrymore’s Arsène Lupin revolved around the theft of the Mona Lisa from the Louvre. Historically, the Da Vinci masterpiece was stolen in 1911 and recovered in 1913. This inspired a Lupin short story, a parody akin to early fanfiction that was not written by Leblanc. In 1912, mystery writer Carolyn Wells published The Adventure Of The Mona Lisa which imagined Holmes and Lupin to be part of the International Society of Infallible Detectives alongside A. J. Raffles, Monsieur Lecoq, and other crime-solving luminaries. Barrymore’s Arsène Lupin does not retell this tale, but the theft of the Mona Lisa comes up again in other Lupin films because it’s France so robbing the Louvre is a common plot point. Netflix’s Lupin begins with Diop’s heist of the Queen’s necklace from the Louvre, an Easter egg referring to Leblanc’s original Lupin short story, ‘The Queen’s Necklace’ published in 1906.

The ‘30s delivered two more Lupin films. The French-made Arsène Lupin detective (1937) starred Jules Berry as Lupin and the American-made Arsène Lupin Returns (1938) with Melvyn Douglas who was credited under another Lupin alias Rene Farrand (Lupin has a lot of aliases). Despite being a completely different production, Douglas’ film was an attempt to capitalize on the success of Barrymore’s film as both films were from MGM. Universal Studios entered the fray soon after with their version Enter Arsène Lupin (1944) starring Charles Korvin. The following year, the Mexican-made Arsenio Lupin (1945) featured Ramón Pereda as the French thief. That film also starred José Baviera as Sherlock. 

The Early Japanese Lupin Adaptations

Lupin captured the hearts of the Japanese. Ironically, Japanese speakers have a difficult time pronouncing ‘L’s so Lupin is usually renamed as ‘Rupan’ or ‘Wolf’ (Lupine means wolf-like – remember Remus Lupin from Harry Potter). As early as 1923, Japan also delivered a silent version of 813, retitled Hachi Ichi San, starring Komei Minami as the renamed Lupin character of Akira Naruse. 

In the ‘50s, Japan produced 3 films that credit Leblanc: Nanatsu-no Houseki (1950) with Keiji Sada, Tora no-Kiba (1951) with Ken Uehara, and Kao-no Nai Otoko (1955) with Eiji Okada. However, post-WWII Japan has obscured most of the details on these films. Like Hachi Ichi San, these Japanese versions laid the foundations for the Lupin III, which debuted as a manga in 1967 and spawned a major manga and anime franchise. In karmic retribution for Leblanc poaching Sherlock, Japan stole Lupin. Lupin III was Arsène Lupin’s grandson. 

Notably, the second Lupin III feature film, The Castle of Cagliostro, marked the directorial debut of famed animator Hayao Miyazaki and is considered a groundbreaking classic that inspired Pixar and Disney (Disney’s The Great Mouse Detective (1986) pilfered the finale clockwork fight from The Castle of Cagliostro). In the wake of the anime Lupin III Part I (1971), Japan produced some anime films that were more loyal to Leblanc, notably Kaitō Lupin: 813 no Nazo (1979) and Lupin tai Holmes (1981). However, this article is focused upon live-action adaptations. Lupin III is another topic entirely. 

In the late ‘50s and into the ‘70s, France reclaimed her celebrated son. Robert Lamoureux became Lupin for two films, Les aventures d’Arsène Lupin (1957) and Signé Arsène Lupin (1959). A comedy version pitted rival sons of Lupin against each other in Arsène Lupin contre Arsène Lupin (1962). Playing the Lupin brothers were Jean-Pierre Cassel and Jean-Claude Brialy. 

Lupin on the Small Screen

Read more

TV

From Lupin III to Inspector Gadget: Examining the Heirs of Arsène Lupin

By Natalie Zutter

France also delivered several TV series. Arsène Lupin ran from 1971 to 1974 and starred Georges Descrières. It encompassed 26 60-minute episodes. L’Île aux trente cercueils (1979) is often included in Lupin filmographies because it is based on a Leblanc novel published in 1919 in which Lupin makes a guest appearance. However, he was omitted from this six-episode miniseries, so it doesn’t quite count. Arsène Lupin joue et perd (1980) was another six-episode miniseries loosely based on ‘813’ with Jean-Claude Brialy from the 1962 comedy. 

One more French TV show, Le Retour d’Arsène Lupin, was televised in two seasons, 1989-1990 and 1995-1996. These were 90-minute episodes with 12 in season 1 and eight in season 2. François Dunoyer starred as Lupin.

And in 2007, the largest Lupin TV show ran for a whopping 96 episodes plus one special. Lupin was made in the Philippines no less, starring Richard Gutierrez as André Lupin

Lupin in the Last Decade 

In 2011, Japan delivered one more live-action film Lupin no Kiganjo starring Kōichi Yamadera. Based on Leblanc’s 3rd Lupin book, L’aiguille Creuse, the film is reset in modern Japan.

In the strangest permutation of Japanese Lupins, Daughter of Lupin was a TV series that is an odd hybrid of Lupin III and Leblanc’s work. A campy sitcom in the tradition of Romeo and Juliet, Hana (Kyoko Fukada) comes from a family of thieves known as the L clan who are inspired by Lupin. Her lover, Kazuma (Koji Seto), is from a family of cops. When in thief mode, Hana wears a carnival mask and a velvet catsuit. It’s goofy, sort of a live action version of anime. It ran for two seasons in 2019 and 2020.

The Lupin Adaptation You Should See 

The strongest modern adaptation of Leblanc’s iconic burglar is the period film Arsène Lupin (2004). It’s an actioner, a creation story for Lupin, starting from his childhood and moving rapidly to him becoming a master gentleman thief. Romain Duris plays the titular role, and the film is in French. Backing Duris are veteran actresses Kristin Scott Thomas as Comtesse de Cagliostro and Eva Green as Clarisse de Dreux-Soubise. The story is absurd, like a mash-up between a superhero film and the DaVinci code, and it gets a bit muddled in the telling. However, it’s shot on location (including the Louvre) and encapsulates the spirit of Leblanc’s character in an updated fashion. It’s a perfect primer for Lupin Season 2.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Lupin seasons 1 and 2 are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post The Cinematic Legacy of Lupin: Arsène Lupin’s Live-Action Filmography appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[badbadbucky]

thank you for tagging me @singersargent @neon-supercell @ladadee195 and @un1c0rntea ! you are all amazing!

Favorite colors: Bright ugly fake grass in between meat at the butcher shop green, turquoise

Last song I listened to: golden Years by David Bowie

Favorite musicians: Johnny Cash, the Mountain Goats, the Velvet Underground, the Rolling Stones, the Cramps, Townes Van Zandt, Queen, Orville Peck, the Doors, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Elton John, the New York Dolls, the Cure, the Buzzcocks, Journey, David Bowie, the Animals, the Who, (I’m more of a song person than following specific artists, but I do really dig all these)

Last show I watched: the Alienist: Angel of Darkness. It’s me and my mom’s show. 

Favorite characters: Vince and Howard from the Boosh, Klaus (TUA), Nandor and Guillermo (WWDITS), Dean Learner (Garth Mareghi’s Darkplace), Chad Radwell (Screan Queens, I don’t like the show, but I love Chad Radwell), Dean Winchester (dropped off in recent years but supernatural was huge for me), Bucky Barnes, Loki, Wolverine, Batman, Daredevil, Clark Kent and Lex Luthor (Smallville was my first great love), Sirius Black and Hagrid (goddammit JK, why?), Richie Tozier and Bill Denbrough (IT miniseries and book), Richie and Eddie Kasbrak (IT movies), Roland Deschain and Eddie Dean (Dark Tower Series), Wolf (the 10th Kingdom), Jim, Dwight, Robert California (the Office), Liz Taylor (AHS: Hotel), Bender (the Breakfast Club), Bojack Horseman, Kevin Garvey (the Leftovers). 

There, that’s a good wall of text, I’m gonna call that good haha

Sweet, spicy or savory: savory

Sparkling water, tea or coffee? tea

Any pets? my folks both have dogs. I’d like to get a dog, but right now I do not have the energy to take care of a dog. I’d like to get a pitbull or some sort of big fluffy dog. 

I tag @calamitycrowley @befuddled-bat @silentorator @yellogazello @cronchy-saboo @littlebooshmaid I’m not sure who has been tagged yet, so if you haven’t, consider yourself tagged! Love you guyd!

#tag game

[thefandomlesbian]

I think you’d like the tv show Gentleman Jack, it’s created by a woman and based on a real life lesbian. The main character is a gender non-conforming lesbian, it’s positive representation and it has a happy ending. And some more if you or the person who asked you before haven’t watched these: But I’m a cheerleader, The Handmaiden, the episode of Black Mirror “San Junipero”, Yes or No (one of the main characters is a butch lesbian), Saving Face, Fucking Amal, Hearts Beat Loud, Nina’s Heavenly Delights, D.E.B.S, Booksmart, Thelma. All of these have happy endings so they’re good for anyone tired of watching lesbians dying, not ending up together or just having sad endings. Some others that are not necessarily positive but still good are Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Elisa & Marcela, Tell it to the Bees, Pariah (GNC black lesbian) oh and the tv show The Haunting of Bly Manor was really good but sad. Also Tipping the Velvet is a miniseries adaptation of Sarah Waters book, it’s good and has a positive happy ending but has a lot of not positive things throughout the series. And The Half of It is a nice positive movie with a lesbian main character but the plot is more about friendship than anything. And books: Ammonite by Nicola Griffith, On a Sunbeam by Tillie Walden (graphic novel), When women were warriors by Catherine M. Wilson, The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon, Everything Leads to You by Nina LaCour, This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El Mohtar, Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst and The Abyss Surrounds Us by Emily Skrutskie. Oh btw if you liked Jenny’s Wedding you’d probably like Happiest Season, it feels very similar. Sorry for the long ask lol, I consume lots of lesbian media

Posting this for reference for anyone who would like to see it!

#movie recs

[blackkudos]

Rosario Dawson

Rosario Isabel Dawson (born May 9, 1979) is an American actress and singer. She made her feature film debut in the 1995 independent drama Kids. Her subsequent film roles include He Got Game (1998), Josie and the Pussycats (2001), Men in Black II (2002), Rent (2005), Sin City (2005), Clerks II (2006), Death Proof (2007), Unstoppable (2010), and Top Five (2014). Dawson has also provided voice-over work for Disney, Warner Bros., DC Comics, and ViacomCBS' Nickelodeon unit.

For her role in Rent, Dawson won the Satellite Award for Best Supporting Actress – Motion Picture; for her role in Top Five, she was nominated for the Critics' Choice Movie Award for Best Actress in a Comedy.

Dawson is also known for having several roles in comic book adaptations. These include Gail in Sin City (2005) and Sin City: A Dame to Kill For (2014), providing the voices of Diana Prince / Wonder Woman in the DC Animated Movie Universe and Barbara Gordon / Batgirl in The Lego Batman Movie, as well as her portrayal of Claire Temple in five of the Marvel/Netflix series: Daredevil (2015–2016), Jessica Jones (2015), Luke Cage (2016–2018), Iron Fist and The Defenders (both 2017).

Early life

Dawson was born on May 9, 1979, in New York City. Her mother, Isabel Celeste, is of Cuban and Puerto Rican ancestry. Isabel was 16 years old when Rosario was born; she never married Rosario's biological father, Patrick C. Harris. When Rosario was a year old, her mother married Greg Dawson, a construction worker. Dawson has a half-brother, Clay, who is four years younger.

Isabel and Greg sublet their 199 Avenue A apartment to Paul de Rienzo and moved their family into a reclaimed building after being approved by the 544 East 13 Street residents on the Lower East Side of Manhattan as members of a affordable housing plan. During that time Rosario and Clay would also grow up in Texas. Dawson has cited this part of her history when explaining how she learned that, "If you wanted something better, you had to do it all yourself."

Career

As a child, Dawson made a brief appearance on Sesame Street. At the age of 15, she was subsequently discovered on her front-porch step by photographer Larry Clark and Harmony Korine, where Korine lauded her as being perfect for a part he had written in his screenplay that would become the controversial 1995 film Kids. She went on to star in varied roles, ranging from independent films to big budget blockbusters including Rent, He Got Game and Men in Black II.

In 1998, Dawson teamed up with Prince for the re-release of his 1980s hit "1999". The new remixed version featured the actress in an introductory voice over, offering commentary on the state of the world in the year before the new millennium. The following year, she appeared in The Chemical Brothers' video for the song "Out of Control" from the album Surrender. She is also featured on the track "She Lives In My Lap" from the second disc of the OutKast album Speakerboxxx/The Love Below, in which she speaks the intro and a brief interlude towards the end.

In 2001, she appeared in the movie, Josie and the Pussycats as band member Valerie Brown.

Dawson starred as Naturelle Rivera, the love interest of a convicted drug dealer played by Edward Norton, in the 2002 Spike Lee film drama, 25th Hour. In the 2004 Oliver Stone film Alexander, she played the bride of Alexander the Great. In the autumn of 2005, Dawson appeared on stage as Julia in the Public Theater's "Shakespeare in the Park" revival of Two Gentlemen of Verona. It was her first appearance on stage.

In the film adaptation of the popular musical Rent in 2005, she played the exotic dancer Mimi Marquez, replacing Daphne Rubin-Vega, who was pregnant and unable to play the part. She also appeared in the adaptation of the graphic novel Sin City, co-directed by Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller, portraying Gail, a prostitute-dominatrix. Also in that year, she appeared in a graphically violent scene in the Rob Zombie film The Devil's Rejects. Though the scene was cut from the final film, it is available in the deleted scenes on the DVD release.

She starred as Becky in 2006's Clerks II, and mentioned in Back to the Well, the making-of documentary, that the donkey show sequence was what made her decide to take the role. In May of the same year, Dawson, an avid comic book fan, co-created and co-wrote the comic book miniseries Occult Crimes Taskforce. She was at the 2007 San Diego Comic-Con to promote the comic. She co-starred with former Rent alum Tracie Thoms in the Quentin Tarantino throwback movie Death Proof in 2007, part of the Tarantino/Robert Rodriguez double feature Grindhouse. She teamed up with friend Talia Lugacy, whom she met at the Lee Strasberg Academy, to produce and star in Descent. On July 7, 2007, Dawson presented at the American leg of Live Earth.

In 2008, Dawson starred with Will Smith in Seven Pounds and in Eagle Eye, produced by Steven Spielberg. Beginning in August, she starred in Gemini Division, an online science fiction series. In the computer animated series Afterworld, she voiced the character Officer Delondre Baines. On January 17, 2009, Dawson hosted Saturday Night Live. Later in the year, she voiced Artemis of Bana-Mighdall in the animated film Wonder Woman.

In 2009, Dawson performed in The People Speak, a documentary feature film that uses dramatic and musical performances of the letters, diaries, and speeches of everyday Americans, based on historian Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States. In 2009, Dawson also voiced the character of Velvet Von Black in Rob Zombie's animated feature, The Haunted World of El Superbeasto. For the Kasabian album West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum, she is featured singing on the track "West Ryder Silver Bullet".

In 2010, she starred in the movies Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief, as Persephone, and Unstoppable, as railway yardmaster Connie. In 2013, she played Apple's mother in the independent film Gimme Shelter. The following year, she reprised her role as Gail in Sin City: A Dame to Kill For. In 2015, she played Claire Temple in the Netflix web television series Daredevil, a role which she reprised in Jessica Jones and Luke Cage. Dawson's likeness was also used in the Jessica Jones tie-in comic as her character on both shows. Dawson has continued this role in 2017 in Iron Fist and The Defenders. In 2018, she played the female lead role in the Netflix movie, Krystal. In 2020, she was cast as the Star Wars character Ahsoka Tano in the second season of The Mandalorian on Disney+.

Personal life

Dawson is a self-professed Trekkie who mentioned both her and her brother's love of Star Trek in an interview with Conan O'Brien, and also demonstrated her knowledge of several Klingon words.

Dawson adopted a 11-year-old girl in 2014.

From 2016 to 2017, Dawson dated comedian and television host Eric Andre.

In March 2019, Dawson confirmed that she is in a relationship with United States senator Cory Booker.

In October 2019 Derek Finley, a trans man, filed a case in Los Angeles against Dawson and her family for alleged incidents involving discrimination, verbal abuse, misgendering and physical assault. Finley had been employed as a handyman, living with the family and had known them for decades. The Dawson family has not publicly commented.

In February 2020, Dawson publicly came out as a member of the LGBT community.

Politics

Dawson was arrested in 2004, while protesting against president George W. Bush.

Dawson endorsed Barack Obama for re-election in 2012, and Bernie Sanders for the Democratic nomination in the 2016 Democratic Party primaries. On April 15, 2016, Dawson was among the protesters arrested during Democracy Spring in Washington, D.C.

In mid-2019, Dawson endorsed her boyfriend Cory Booker in the 2020 presidential election. Booker ended his campaign for president on January 13, 2020. Had she become First Lady of the United States, Dawson said she would have advocated for solutions to youth homelessness. On March 9, 2020, Dawson endorsed the presidential campaign of Bernie Sanders, whom she had also previously endorsed in his 2016 bid.

Philanthropy

Dawson is involved with the Lower East Side Girls Club and supports other charities such as environmental group Global Cool, One Campaign, Operation USA, Oxfam, Amnesty International, Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG), the International Rescue Committee, Voto Latino, and Stay Close.org, a poster and public service ad campaign for PFLAG where she is featured with her uncle Frank Jump. She has participated in the Vagina Monologues (she refers to her vagina as "The General") and serves on the board for V-Day, a global non-profit movement that raises funds for women's anti-violence groups through benefits of this play.

In October 2008, Dawson became a spokeswoman for TripAdvisor.com's philanthropy program, More Than Footprints, Conservation International, Doctors Without Borders, National Geographic Society, The Nature Conservancy and Save The Children. Also in October 2008, she lent her voice to the RESPECT! Campaign, a movement aimed at preventing domestic violence. She recorded a voice message for the Giverespect.org Web site stressing the importance of respect in helping stop domestic violence. In 2012, Dawson partnered with SodaStream International in launching the first annual Unbottle the World Day, a campaign conceived in an effort to raise awareness to the impact of cans and plastic bottles on the environment. Dawson also sits on the Board of Directors of Scenarios USA, which works to support a generation of reflective, outspoken, and confident youth through filmmaking and uses film to educate students through a variety of programs.

#05/09

[littledarlinwrites]

Black Velvet Miniseries

Part 2: You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Black Velvet Miniseries Masterlist 

Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Photographer!Reader

Word Count: 3041

Author’s Note: This is for @kentuckybarnes 3K Writing Challenge. Hannah, you are too awesome for words! Also, special thanks to my wonderful beta reader @lokissoul for reading and editing and reminding me that I am more than my errors, I am eternally grateful! Also I goofed and forgot to tag @star-spangled-bingo to cover the space in my bingo card for Rockstar AU when I posted cause college (I swear I’ll do better at this in the future, this one just escaped me).

Summary: Bucky is anxious about the bands interview with Shield Magazine. Will his interview be more than about his arm? And what happens when he meets a certain photographer for the magazine?

Warnings: A smidge of angst in the beginning, drinking, and puns.

Adrenaline was pumping through Bucky’s veins as he walked with the others backstage to put their instruments away. The show had gone off without a hitch. Bucky couldn’t even feel the phantom pain in his shoulder anymore, whether that was due to the adrenaline or not he had no clue. He lifted the strap to his red bass from his shoulder and put the guitar into its case. Bucky lifted the bottom of his faded black t-shirt to his face to wipe off his sweat covered face.

“Man, I broke four drumsticks, that was awesome!” Clint said excitedly.

“Barton, only you would be excited about breaking a part of your instrument.” Tony replied with a smirk as he walked over to the group. Clint’s only response was a shit eating grin.

“Alright, all of you have an interview and pictures to take with people from Shield Magazine. They’re are waiting for you at the bar. If you want to change, I suggest you do so now and quickly.” Pepper spoke to the group. Before she could even finish her sentence Natasha was bolting for the shower on the bus. Bucky didn’t blame her since he was the only person in the group that had longer hair like hers, and nothing felt more gross after a show than sweaty hair sticking to your neck. He made his way to the bus with everyone and waited for the shower while the others changed. As Bucky waited for the shower he had time to think of the interview. The adrenaline must have left his system because he felt himself getting more and more nervous. He had never been interviewed by a magazine before. What kind of questions were they going to ask? Were they going to ask about his arm? People always did when they saw it, or else they would stare at it. It was why he always wore layers or at least long sleeves. The longer he thought about it, the more his shoulder would hurt. He didn’t get phantom pains too often anymore. The therapy he had to complete helped with that. However, Bucky had found that whenever he got too stressed out, particularly about his shoulder or the accident, the phantom pain would reappear. As if he needed another reminder of what he lost.

“Earth to Bucky. You okay?” Natasha stood in front of him, her hand on his flesh shoulder.

“Uh, yeah. Just nervous about the interview I guess and kinda zoned out. I’m fine. Meet you out there?” Bucky asked as he was practically closing the bathroom door. He didn’t want to talk about it. He was done talking about how the accident still haunted him. He hadn’t left his apartment more than necessary since, and he hadn’t even talked to girl besides Pepper or Natasha. Bucky took off his shirt and did the one thing he typically avoided. He looked in the mirror. His shoulder had healed but it had left angry scars behind. Some from himself when he would have nightmares about the accident and Steve would have to wake him up with his flesh hand pinned down to his side. He had started sleeping with a t-shirt on to try to keep himself from clawing at his shoulder from there on out. Bucky screwed his eyes shut and took a couple deep breaths. He turned around before opening his eyes and finished getting undressed and showered.

Bucky threw on a pair of ripped jeans after his shower and his favorite red henley. The fabric of the shirt irritated his scars the least and it covered his arm. He nearly grabbed his leather jacket, but decided against it knowing he would get way too warm inside the crowded venue. Slowly, he made his way into the venue to get the interview over with and hoped to god that they wouldn’t ask about the accident or his arm. When Bucky walked up to the bar at the concert venue he saw Clint talking to a woman with long brown hair and a pen in her hands.

“Nice shirt.” Bucky over heard the woman say with a smirk on her face. Bucky glanced at the shirt Clint had changed into. The words “save a drum, bang a drummer” printed across his chest.

“Thanks, and for the record, if I were a drum I'd let you bang me all night long!” Clint replied to the woman with a wink. Bucky chuckled and then let out a sigh of relief. He knew nothing he would say in his interview could be as cringe worthy as that. Bucky sat down at the bar waiting for Clint’s interview to be over and ordered three shots of tequila to further calm his nerves. When he was about to down the third he noticed a woman so beautiful that he nearly choked swallowing the burning liquid. He couldn’t even see half of your face since it was hidden behind the camera in her hands, but he knew just from your eyes that you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Bucky’s nerves skyrocketed for the umpteenth time that night. Then he saw you pull your camera away from your face and let it hang from the strap around your neck. You looked directly at Bucky and sent him a shy smirk that took his breath away. Then you started walking towards him. In that moment, Bucky knew he was screwed.

“So, you’re the elusive bassist.” you said. Bucky decided in that moment that your voice was the most beautiful thing he had heard in his life. Realizing you had asked a question, he cocked his head slightly with a smile ghosting his lips.

“I’m sorry, elusive?” Bucky was confused, had he missed something?

“Your, uh, friend Steve. He went to introduce you to us and couldn’t find you. If I hadn’t seen you on stage myself, with pictures to prove it, I probably would have believed that you were just his Snuffleupagus.” You said with a giggle.

“Ya know, I’ve been called a lot of things, ‘Snuffleupagus’ definitely isn’t one of them.” Bucky replied with a teasing grin on his face before he broke out into a chuckle.

“Oh really? Would one of those things happen to be your name? Steve never got around to introducing you since you poofed on him. I mean, I’m fine with calling you Mr. Snuffleupagus if you’d like.” You were teasing him now, but he seemed game for it. There was something about this man that was bring you out of your shell. It terrified you, but something about him calmed you too.

“Just Snuffleupagus will do. No, I’m kidding! Uh, my friends call me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you said with a shy smile on your face that Bucky found absolutely adorable. “Darn, Snuffleupagus was kinda growing on me.”

“You two need anything to drink?” The bartender asked since she had a moment to come down and check on the of you.

“Uhm, I’ll have what he’s having.” You reply to the bartender as you hop onto the stool next to Bucky’s.

“She’ll have a screaming orgasm.” Bucky said nearly causing you to choke on your saliva. The bemused look on your face caused Bucky to chuckle. You looked up at the man and saw the shit eating grin on his face that told you he was pulling your leg. “I’m kidding, can we get two shots of tequila each, please?” The bartender gave a nod before pouring the shots and walking away to check on the other patrons.

“Screaming orgasm, huh?” You tried to school the look on your face to one that looked unamused with his joke.

“Sorry, I had to get back at you for calling me imaginary! The opportunity presented itself and I couldn’t resist!” Bucky replied trying to repress the chuckle at the scowl on your face. He could tell you were only pretending to be mad at him for the fact you were actively trying not to smile. “Forgive me?” He said with his best puppy dog eyes.

“Hmmm, on one condition.” You said with an evil smirk forming on your face.

“Name it.” Bucky said before downing the first shot.

“Give me your best pick up line, because that one was way too easy and you know it.” Bucky rose his hand to his chin, stroking it as if he were in deep thought before letting out a chortle.

“Call me AC/DC, because I’m gonna leave you shook all night long.” You had to bite back a laugh at the classic rock song reference, but a giggle managed its way past your lips.

“Well, then you can call me Scorpion, because I’m gonna rock you like a hurricane.” You replied back with your own classic rock reference that caused Bucky’s eyes to light up before he burst into a laugh. You couldn’t help but laugh with him. You also couldn’t help but notice that you loved the sound of his laugh and that you would gladly continue sharing cheesy pick up lines if it meant that you could hear him laugh more. The smile that formed on his face caused your heart to flutter.

You took one of your shots to distract yourself. You managed to swallow the shot without coughing at the burning sensation that engulfed your throat, however you didn’t manage to hide your face scrunching up. Bucky saw the way your face scrunched up after downing the shot and knew he had never seen something so adorable.

“So, I may have been elusive earlier, but you’ve managed to elude from telling me your name. Unless, of course, you really want me to call you ‘Scorpion.’”

“Oh god, no thank you. My name is Y/N.”

“Y/N. It’s pretty like you.” Bucky said causing you to blush. The sight of your flushed cheeks caused his heart to flutter in his chest like a hummingbird. “So, if you don’t mind my asking, what drew you to photography?” Bucky asked you and you could tell he was genuinely curious.

“Well, when I was about seventeen I would go see local bands play around town and I ended up falling in love with concerts. I noticed that there’s this moment that if you stop paying attention to the band and look around you can see the magic of it all. Everyone is jammed into the tight space listening to their favorite band play and for however long the bands set lasts the world can’t touch anyone in the room. For that set nobody’s problems exist. It’s just magical. Anyway, I always loved music, but I never had any musical talent. After a couple of shows I ended up finding my groove and getting some good shots, enough that the band members liked them and used them. After that I knew that that was what I wanted to do.” You rambled out as you felt heat rush to your face. No one had ever asked why you chose photography, though they always managed to give you their unwarranted opinions. So you had never told anyone your reasoning, and suddenly you felt a bit self conscious telling Bucky. You hadn’t realized it, but during your explanation you had let your eyes drop down to the shot glasses in front of you. It wasn’t until you finished speaking that you looked up to see the enamored look on Bucky’s face. Really if anyone understood, it would probably be him. You couldn’t keep track of how many times you heard someone in the arts say how they were discouraged from their profession.

“You know, I thought I was the only who would actually take the time to look out into the crowd to see that. It really is magical. Easily my favorite part of the night to be honest.”

“So, uhm, why did you become a bassist?”

“Steve and I were always getting into some sort of trouble, he got picked on because before he hit puberty he was probably the scrawniest kid you’d ever seen. That never stopped him from standing up for the little, even though he was literally a little guy, and I always had his back. Well, my uncle actually had a guitar and a bass guitar in his garage and my ma had told him what was going on. So in an effort to help her and keep up out of trouble he taught us how to play. Steve was a natural at the guitar so I picked up the bass. Then whenever I would get stressed or anxious about something or whenever I just needed to escape life I would just pull out my bass guitar and start strumming. Eventually we ran into Clint, he always had a pair of drumsticks on him and we asked him to join us. Steve doesn’t play unless he’s playing acoustic now since we found Thor, and we heard Natasha singing one day and playing guitar in the band room while we were in high school and we asked if she would want to join a bunch of dudes in a rock band. We’ve all been inseparable ever since.”

“Wow. Really though, Steve? Scrawny?” Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at your bemusement. He couldn’t fault you for it either, during high school Steve bulked up. If Bucky hadn’t witnessed it he probably wouldn’t believe it either.

“Yeah, I got pictures I could show you back at my ma’s.”

“There’s evidence? Now this I’ll have to see!” Bucky couldn’t help but love your wit. He was laughing more tonight than he had in the last year and half. It wasn’t until you cocked your head slightly that Bucky realized he had just been staring at you for a bit too long.

“Ya know doll, I don't know how many times you've thrown me off-beat by being next to me.” For a second Bucky panicked. He had no idea why he had said that. It was the truth, but he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He panicked not wanting to look like an idiot and said the first thing that had come to mind. It wasn’t until you giggled with a blush on your face that he let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh really? Well in that case, I bet we could get in some serious treble together if we aren’t careful.” You replied with a wink.

“Ya know, I haven’t laughed this much in a while.” Bucky admitted honestly. The admission broke your heart. You knew about the accident, that he had lost his arm. You had actually attended the show that night and had seen him play. It was one of your rare nights off when a band was playing. You couldn’t begin to imagine what that night, and every day after must have been like for him, but you were glad he was here in front of you now.

“Ya know, they say laughing adds eight minutes on to your life.”

“Hey Y/N, can I grab you for a sec?” The woman that was talking to Clint walks up to the two of you.

“Uh, sure Laura. Just a sec Bucky.” You told him, not wanting to leave. He nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“So the bar closes in like five minutes. Is there any chance that while the two of you were flirting you got anything for a quote I could use?”

“Laura! Okay, one, you were flirting with Clint and don’t you dare deny it. Two, maybe, but I’d rather ask him first.”

“You’re the best! So, you gonna give him your number?” You thought on it for a minute before you decided.

“Do you have the flyer for their next show on you still?”

“Yeah.” She said as she began digging through her bag for the flyer and a pen. “Here ya go.” You took the flyer and pen and twirled your finger for her to turn around so you could use her back to write on. You quickly wrote on the flyer before folding it up and handing Laura back her pen.

“Thanks Laur’, you’re the best!” You told her as you walked back to the bar.

“Hey, uhm, Bucky?”

“What’s up, doll?”

“Laura meant to interview you, but she ran out of time, do you mind if I use the seeing out into the crowd thing as a quote from you for her?” Bucky noticed the folded up paper in your hands and for a moment he was disappointed, he was hoping you were gonna ask if he wanted your number.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Bucky told you, a smile of relief flooding your features. “Doll?”

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, really appreciated tonight,” Bucky said as he rubbed the back of his neck with his flesh hand. “Do you think, I could see you again sometime?” He managed to mumble out the words quickly before he lost what little nerve he had. His heart rate picked up when he saw the playful smirk on your face. You took another two steps closer so you were standing between his legs. You could smell the faint scent of his shampoo. You put a hand on his arm while the other hand slipped the folded up flyer into his pocket. You leaned up so your lips were close to his ear.

“You can’t always get what you want.” You whispered as you stepped back with the mirk still on your face and a look of confusion on his. You winked at him before walking back to join Laura and head to the office to work on the article.

Bucky sat there completely confused. He realized you slipped something into his right pocket and pulled it out. Before he opened it he realized you had touched his prosthetic arm and neither of you were phased. For the first time in a long time, Bucky felt normal. He carefully opened the piece of paper with shaky hands. It was the flyer for their next show for the day after tomorrow. The date, time and venue were circled, and written below in slightly messy handwriting was ‘but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.’

Tags:

@letstalkaboutsebbaby @itsbuckysworld @caitfairwrites @xxloki81xx @marvelfluff @igotkatiepowers @thorins-queen-of-erebor @buckyinantarctica @chuuulip @ladysergeantbarnes @axelwolf8109 @ria132love @thecraziestcrayon

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