#and i feel like the musical is now on a downward slope

[gotstabbedbyapen]

I have very complicated feelings for the Vengeance Saga (after the first listen)

Disclaimer: I will only criticize Epic the Vengeance Saga as a work on its own, not for its inaccuracy or deviation from mythology and The Odyssey. There are more knowledgable people who can point out and analyze the changes in Epic the Musical, but that is not what I'll be tackling here.

To put it bluntly, I'm not being angsty about it as I should. The whole saga just... didn't feel right with me.

Now, first off all, I'm a big fan of Epic and had been following it since the Cyclops saga (first version). I've been in love with many songs and hyperfixed it for months on end. But when the Vengeance saga came along, I didn't feel that same bubbling love rise in me.

Even as a fan, this isn't my first time having peeves with Epic. I didn't jam with the re-release sagas for a while, I'm underwhelmed with the Circe VS Odysseus fight and other issues, very unpopular opinion but "Monster" wasn't too impactful to me, and also the God Games (especially Zeus' attack).

The Vengeance Saga though? Well, they say we gotta do the Bun-Meat-Bun (or whatever the hell its name really is) technique when giving criticism, so I'll start with the good parts.

I love that Odysseus looked so done with Calypso in "Not Sorry For Loving You". They're basically this meme:

Like sorry you're a sad but you're still an abuser 😒

Then Odysseus starts singing the reprise for "Full Speed Ahead" but there's no one to back him up. That one hits me hard. To whoever on Tumblr said that after the Thunder Saga we will never hear the crew's back-up again and Odysseus' singing will be answered with silence, Apollo really blessed you with the red ball.

Hermes and the Winions' part was really cool too! I really like them being mischievous helper! The warning about the wind bag and the changing scene of Odysseus fighting off sea monsters while Hermes just vibing with the beats is 👌👌👌

But after that the hype started to sizzle out for me. You might want to skip this part if you're not comfortable with harsh criticism because I WON'T hold back.

It's really backward but I like the Odysseus VS Charybdis draft more than the final production. Charybdis' roars and music are somehow less intimidating, which is a shame because I thought this would be one of the biggest struggles Odysseus will face. Even with awesome illustrative animatics, the scene wasn't as thrilling as I've expected.

The other songs got massive improvement from its draft version (on top of my mind I can think of "Thunder Bringer", "There Are Other Ways", "Little Wolf"), but I don't get why "Charybdis" didn't get up-graded as much like them. It's like a cake that was throughly baked but half decorated and it just didn't taste as good as I've hoped.

Then we have the Odysseus VS Poseidon part in "Get In The Water" and "Six Hundred Strikes". The first thought I had for GITW is this song sounds like all the draft snippets were mashed together without a smooth transition/connection between them. Jorge and Steven's performance is great, but there's not enough tension for me to dread for Odysseus. When Poseidon first met Odysseus in "Ruthlessness", the whole opening was terrifyingly good! And we didn't even have any illustration animatic back then! (that's not to say the GITW animatics were bad, they just can't salvage much when the song itself was already weak)

I wasn't impressed with Poseidon's Shatter The Ocean move either. It's supposed to be the Strongest AttackTM but it's less scary than when he and the Laestrygonians destroyed Odysseus' eleven ships with probably 1% of their power. It didn't even help when Poseidon looked like he's having a seizure with lights pouring out of his eyes and mouth during the transformation.

Odysseus being literally on the brink of death with the souls of his loved ones pulling him into the abyss is a gem in the rough, but because we've seen Odysseus almost drowning before in the end of the Thunder Saga, it's not as shocking as it should be. Furthermore, Poseidon could have instant-killed Odysseus right then and there but didn't really annoyed me. But I guess he just wanted Odysseus to slowly suffer while dying.

Right when I thought the progress will get better, it... gets down. I can go with Odysseus using wind to escape the water, but him wearing it like a jetpack is so comical it ruined the drastic of the situation. And I'm officially let down when Odysseus FUCKING ATTACKED Poseidon in "Six Hundred Strike".

What? Just... why with that choice?

Look, I'm not gonna fault Epic for making creative liberties from the source material (as said in the disclaimer), but I will criticize if that change contradict itself in the transformative work. And this is one of them.

Poseidon and the gods have been proven time and time again in the musical just how powerful they are. Their ominous and grandiose entrances, them striking fear and inferiority in our hearts just by singing. Even Circe, a low-level goddess, poses a constant threat to the crew and Odysseus had to get help from Hermes just to get a chance to corner her (and Hermes even joked that he can still die!)

Poseidon easily destroyed almost all of Odysseus' fleet. Odysseus was very avoidant of him, opting to go to the literal Underworld to find instruction on how to dodge him and sailing through Scylla's lair + willing to sacrifice six men for safe passage. And when Poseidon said he can drown all of Ithaca, it's not just bluffing, he would and could have done that. Yeah, the King of the Sea is THAT BIG of a treat.

So no, Odysseus isn't cool to attack Poseidon, he's being stupid. I'm not even cheering for him the whole him he fight, just groaning at how ridiculous the whole thing is. If Epic is more believable and sticks to WHAT IT HAD ESTABLISHED BEFORE, having a sudden burst of anger and choosing ruthlessness won't save Odysseus from one swipe of Poseidon's trident. Odysseus stood no chance against a one of the most powerful deity, even if he's the protagonist and love his family.

Not only that, Poseidon didn't even defend himself and was wounded by a mere human! And he just sat there and took all the blows and insults from Odysseus??? And he actually begged Odysseus to stop and agree to quell the storm to let him get home??? I'm not buy that bullshit. I'm more upset that a literal Olympian god was nerfed down than Odysseus having a Gary Stu moment. Give me a break, that try-hard moment to be cool and edgy just show how badly written the scene is.

What's the fucking point of hyping up how dangerous the gods are if a human can take one down? Tell me this isn't some Wattpad-y Greek myth retelling fanfic where the teenage Y/N sass her way to defeat an entire pantheon. Epic really traded its opportunity to be better for some cheap and out-of-the-blue dramas in this saga, dare I say it's even worse than Zeus' OOC attack on Athena. I'm very disappointed with that decision.

On an end note, the saga did have one saving point with the "After everything you've done, how will you sleep at night?" - "Next to my wife" lines. Odysseus knew he could be the most horrendous man ever and Penelope would still choose his side, that just show how powerful their love and faith in each other are.

But not enough to excuse all the terrible cinematic choices.

[obsessive-evie]

strawberry wine

pairing: Kate Martin + fem!oc

word count: 1.1k

warnings: sickenly sweet fluff, first ‘i love you’, county music

Golden light shown through Kate’s windshield, the pink and orange rays making her glow. Her freckles are always darker in the summer, but she seemed to exude sunshine through every dark dot speckling her face. Her hair, let loose from its usual ponytail, was blowing all around her, forming a halo. I couldn’t help but admire every inch of her features. The curve of her nose I love so dearly, her eyes that reveal all, her hands barely holding the steering wheel because she was too busy holding mine over the center console and tapping her fingers to the music playing.

Kate’s soft country playlist plays through the open windows of her car, filling the evening air with smooth guitar and rich vocals. I savor the smell of her presence, the feeling of the low summer sun on my face, the touch of her golden skin against mine, her large calloused hands gripping my own. Her thumb swipes over my knuckles absentmindedly as the road begins to slope downward.

Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton begins to play, the recognizable chords of our song flooding the cab. She immediately smiles at me, turning her head away from the road for just long enough to melt my soul just a little.

She uses our hand as her microphone to sing along to the lyrics we’ve sung a million times. We danced to this song on our first date, searing it into our hearts as sacred.

Before the song gets to the second verse, she pulls the car over without an explanation. “What are we doing?” I ask. Kate doesn’t answer, she simply kisses my knuckles quickly before opening her door and hopping out, a large and true smile covering her face. She jogs around the front of the car to my side, and opens my door without another word.

I catch on that she wants me out, so I turn to leave the car, but before I can she reaches behind me and turns the volume all the way up, Chris Stapleton flooding the open air.

We’re pulled over on a quiet valley country road, no traffic whatsoever, just the sound of distant cows, and a large weeping willow not far ahead. Kate grabs both my hands oh so gently, pulls me out the car.

“I’ll ask again, what are we doing babe?” I say, looking around slightly confused.

“Cmere prettygirl,” she says softly, her skin aglow and eyes bright with mirth. I slide out the car and into her waiting arms. Said arms immediately wrap around me, pulling me close to the warm body of my girlfriend.

She moves my hands to circle her neck, her own coming down to gently cradle my waist and back. I get what she’s doing now, and my heart melts. We begin to sway to the music slowly, her big hands pulling me impossibly closer so our bodies are touching from chest to hip.

Our small steps slowly lead us away from the car, but her hums start up again, the noise reverberating through my rib cage, welding my soul to hers. Every cell, each layer of my skin, my mind my heart and all of me was intertwined with hers.

“You’re such a sap you know that?” I whisper, looking into her eyes like they’ll tell me everything (they usually do). She laughs a breathy laugh, just a puff of air through her nose and smiles wide. “Only for you,” Kate responds. Her hands rub warmth into my back, her head lilts down just slightly, and her eyes hold a kind of devotion I’ve seen more and more often recently. She kisses me with a kind of love seeping into me I’ve only ever felt with her.

The feel of her soft lips on mine, the reassurance of her hands on my back and in between my shoulder blades, the smell of her body wash and perfume, all signs of my girl that allow me to fully relax into the kiss. We keep swaying until she pulls away, keeping her face close to mine.

She’s smiling ear to ear, her nose brushing mine as she shakes her head. “What?” I ask, laughing and 100% smiling like an idiot too.

Her eyes take over my face, tucking an errant hair bar hind my ear before whispering, “You’re perfect is all.” We kiss again, softer this time, a quiet kind of devotion instead of the soul-searing kiss that filled me earlier.

“You are as sweet as strawberry wine,” the freckled girl in front of me says, “your perfection just sweetens the deal.”

We kissed and danced until Chris Stapleton faded to another older country tune, then another, and another. We stayed there in the middle of a valley road until the glowing sun had set and the bright freckles of the night sky began to show. We stayed there intertwined until a chill ran over my exposed shoulders and I found myself wanting to lean impossibly closer to the sun that was my girlfriend. We stayed there until the only way my nose would stay warm was if I tucked it into her neck, despite her small squeal of protest.

Eventually Kate too felt the chill of the late summer night, and made me get in the truck with the promise of the blanket she always kept in the back seat. We drove home listening to the same country bumpkin playlist, but with a new kind of warmth set deep in my heart that no amount of breeze could take away.

“I love you,” is all I say, turning my head to face the driving blonde. Kate smiles, and stops the car at the green light we’re at, the desolate backroads allowing her to do so. Her large hands immediately grab my cheeks and jaw, kissing me with every ounce of passion, of love, i’m sure she feels for me in the same way I feel for her. She pulls away, but stays within an inch of my lips, “I love you so fucking much,” she says, her eyes showing she means it.

We stay there, in our little bumpkin love bubble, until a horn sounds behind us, reminding us we are in fact stopped at a green light. She just laugh, and turns to drive, keeping her hand in mine.

Keeping her hand in mine, where it feels right, where it needs to be, where we’re always entwined, body and soul.

[creeps-and-creatures]

Minotaur Jock 🏈🐮

Poor choices and alcohol lead to a heavy fall, lucky for you there’s someone who’s willing to help. :)

In hindsight, maybe getting drunk at a party near a cliff was a bad idea.

You didn’t go out much. Parties had never been your thing and you’d much rather sit around in comfy clothes than go get drunk and kiss a stranger. And uni work didn’t help.

So, when your friend invited you to “the biggest party of the year” you were hesitant. It took a lot of pestering and a fair amount of bribery to get you there, but eventually you agreed.

So there you were, at some rich frat boy’s daddy’s vacation home. Sitting on a couch, alone, red solo cup in hand. Zoning out looking at the hills around you.

Your friend had left you almost as soon as you got there, pulled away by the tide of people dancing and drinking. A fairy couple in the corner we’re making out passionately, their wings were wrapped around the other and their skin was flushed with a sensual shade of red. You thought they looked like a seriously deformed apple.

Maybe that’s a rude thing to think, after all they were just living life (probably better than you at that) and it was harmless at the end of the day. Looking at those passionate couples though, you couldn’t help but be reminded of the boy you had once shared kisses like that wit-No. Those were not helpful thoughts. You had already let him control you all throughout highschool and you’d be damned if you let the memory of him control you now.

In retaliation to your treacherous thoughts you took a swig of your cup. You were here to have fun, so why not try it? Another cup wouldn’t hurt.

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The party was really going now and for once, you were a part of it! The crowd had migrated out of the house and now that everyone, including you, was more than a little bit drunk the party truly started.

The dancers from before were now thrashing, the drinkers chugging, and the kissers had mostly gone off to more private areas. You had gravitated towards the dancing clump, the liquid courage in your bloodstream now giving you enough confidence to join them.

You threw your body in time with the music, not caring where your feet landed or your arms swung. Maybe, if someone in the group was more sober they would’ve suggested you move away from the edge of the cliff that sloped downward towards the ocean shore, but no one was. And so when a beat hit dropped particularly hard, you threw yourself into movement spinning and jumping and then tripping.

A rock had been just too close to your foot and you were sent down the side of the cliff. It wasn’t steep enough to be a sheer drop so instead of falling you tumbled.

You were too drunk to tell how long you fell for, but just sober enough to know when you hit the bottom.

As you laid in the bush that broke your fall, you stared up at the sky, dazed at what had happened, until a sound from above you broke your trance. It sounded like something sliding down the hill you had just come from, something big.

You knew you should move but it just seemed so hard at the moment. Whether this was due to the alcohol or hitting your head on the trip down, you didn’t know. As you debated this issue you realized that the sliding noise had stopped, before a loud thud came from your right with approaching footsteps coupled with a smooth baritone voice coming not long after.

“Hey! Hey! Can you hear me?”

You slowly turned your head towards the pleasant sound and saw a large figure moving towards your place in the brush. As the figure got closer you saw the outline of horns on the head and the golden brown fur which covered the parts of the man not covered by his letterman and khaki pants.

“Hey!” The man was towering over you now and you could feel his warm breath on your face. “Are you alright?”

You didn’t respond, instead choosing to stare dumbly at his face.

“Oh lord you got hit good. How many fingers are Mmmm I holding up?”

You stared at the four large fingers in front of you before responding with a resounding “eight.”

The bull just stared at you before sighing “Sounds like someone’s taking a trip to the hospital tonight. Let’s get you to my car”

The bush beneath you disappeared, suddenly replaced with strong arms and big hands as the minotaur hefted you up.

“Up ya go. Ok then,” he gave you a stupidly charming grin that would’ve made you blush if you hadn’t already been flushed red. “My name is Jason, and you’re going to the hospital.”

A/N: I’ve been working on this one for a while and I’m excited to get it out to y’all! I’ll (hopefully) be releasing part 2 of my closet monster series (which you can find here) next! Sorry for the wait but I hope it’ll be worth your time lol

Have a lovely day and thank you for reading!

[yorukimura]

Blue Notes (Albert Shaw/The Grabber x Musician Reader) One Shot, PART 2.

Summary: Several weeks had passed since the meeting with that man, and despite not receiving any response from him, you did not expect to find him at the least appropriate time.

Part 1: https://at.tumblr.com/yorukimura/blue-notes-albert-shawthe-grabber-x-musician/u4jj8qv2spfo

I think you might like this:  Little Fighter (Albert Shaw/ The Grabber X Reader) One Shot є(•⌔•)э

Master list MasterList (๑•ᴗ•๑)♡

Words: 2265

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Weeks had passed, but unfortunately there was no response. Of course, you had gone to the hardware store the next day in the hope of finding him and talking to him again, however, your attempts had completely failed when you saw the young boy who helped you. that day.

Despite trying to ignore that feeling of curiosity, you couldn't help but wonder if it was a silly mistake to have given him your number, or even if he might have seen you as an easy woman. You try to distract yourself in the best way possible so as not to think about it. From setting up your piano in the living room, to preparing your students' classes in advance. Even so, you can't help but overthink the situation.

Inevitably the day of your admission to Denver High School arrived. Nervous and anxious, you fixed your black skirt and your white shirt. Fortunately, the institute was a few blocks from your house, giving you the advantage of not spending a lot of gasoline in your daily life. Grabbing your house keys and your big bag, heading towards what would be your new job.

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“Good morning”, you said as you entered your class, you had been assigned to coach an eleventh grade high school class. You left your bag on the table, and while you turned to write on the blackboard, the students took their seats in their respective places. “At least they keep it polite” you thought, starting to write your full name on the board.

You put down the chalk and turned your body towards the front, catching a glimpse of an assortment of pubescent teenagers. "I'm Ms. (last name)", your hands were positioned behind your back, and you slowly began to walk between the desks in the classroom.

"I will be your modern and professional music teacher for a while," you spoke once again filling the silence in the large classroom, your eyes looked at each of the students, although, you couldn't help but focus on a smugly familiar boy. Tall, no less than one meter and ninety, with a slim build, broad shoulders and strong arms, a narrow waist and long legs. His face is thin, with a pointed chin and sharp jaw. She has dark brown, slightly wavy hair, long enough to pull into a ponytail, and combed back. Her electric blue eyes framed by thick, long eyelashes. It has a small, slightly downward-sloping nose and full lips. His skin is soft and clear, His style is casual and relaxed, with a white t-shirt, jeans and sneakers.

"Paper and pen, now," you said with a smile, immediately the students took out the respective materials you requested, causing some murmurs from the students in the process. "Damn, she's so hot, don't you think?" you managed to capture from the north wing of the class, right next to the boy you glimpsed before. “Shut up and have respect for her, she's a teacher,” he responded.

“Boy,” you said out loud, attracting attention. "The boy in the white t-shirt, stand up!" you demanded, you saw him tense up, he stood up while looking at his partner with an unfriendly face, he looked back at you. You noticed the slight tremor in his right hand. "Boy, tell me your name".

"Levon Shaw, miss," he responded, you didn't look away from him for a second. "Well, Mr. Shaw, tell me, do you play an instrument?" you asked, he quickly shook his head. "Which instrument would you like to learn to play this year, Mr. Shaw?" you asked again this time. "I think the drums, Miss," he responded.

"Perfect, it's exactly what I want, sit down", you motioned for him to sit down. "And please, Mr. Shaw, tell your friend in the blue shirt that a musician's ear is very, very keen on hearing sounds" you smiled with false innocence, as you turned towards the group of students."Each one will write on their sheet, their name, their musical preferences, and the instrument they want to learn to play this year with me".

You sat at your table, watching the students write hastily, a few minutes later, you decided to approach a small group of girls in the front seats. "How are you doing, girls?" You greet them politely, ready to start a conversation. "Miss (last name)" one of the girls responded. "Would it bother you too much if I asked you how things are going here?"

"Of course not, what would you like to know?" You began to connect quickly with them, and have a good conversation. In a few minutes you had already discovered several things about your new job. The music teacher before you had received a new job offer, deciding to resign and give up the position. They expressed how unpleasant he was and how badly he treated the students, insulting others and throwing flutes everywhere. "He sounds like a very unpleasant person" you responded a little worried, you couldn't help but empathize with the students. Remembering your university days, having a professor who was the same, unpleasant and lying. Promising and aiming to teach what music really is. "Believe me, it was, it has a bad reputation among the students," they respond. "I hope things change this year," they comment to each other again. The murmurs among the students continued, as did your conversations with some random ones, the class being interrupted by the loud sound of the bell in the hallway. Each student left the classroom while you collected the papers you assigned previously. Finally, the boy in the white t-shirt was the last to leave, approaching you and handing over the paper with the written data, his blue gaze crossed yours, just as your hands touched each other while you grabbed the paper, and you smiled. sweetly towards him, returning a shy look, along with an angelic smile, as she left.

With curiosity you opened the paper, reading it: "Levon Shaw. Musical preferences: Classical music, Jazz, rock. Instrument: Piano." "Little liar" you thought, with a small smile on your face, you gathered your things, and leaving the classroom, your heels could be heard through the long hallway fiercely.

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Levon Shaw, a bright and ambitious 17-year-old, independent and kind-hearted. Levon is very active, charming, yet a complex individual. On the one hand, he is a bit introverted and hesitant when it comes to social interaction. You may have trouble starting conversations or establishing eye contact. You may also be a little self-conscious and anxious in large groups or in unfamiliar environments. You are likely to overanalyze the reactions of those around you, let's say you inherited it from your father. His mother left him at the age of 7 in the care of his father, a serious, sensible and reliable man, sometimes friendly, although a little strange in his attitude, very different from his uncle, Max, who visits them from time to time to stay. in the house, surrounded by a strange flour-like dust. Many times his father argued with his uncle regarding this.

That same morning, the first day of school, Levon woke up tired. He has been helping his father at the hardware store, helping with expenses and food when he realized that his uncle, who currently lives with them, is no good. of much help. He carefully went to the kitchen, where he usually finds his father calmly reading the morning newspaper or feeding the dog, Sampson. Taking a look, he realized that he did not appear, he turned around towards the living room, upon entering he saw his uncle lying on the sofa, snoring and murmuring under his breath, he smiled a small smile at him. He decided to help him a little by cleaning up the dusty table, putting everything in his bag. Deducing that his father would have already gone to work, he went to get ready to start the first day of school.

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Levon had arrived that same morning for his first class, music. After having a horrible time last year with the old teacher, I had strong hopes that the new one would be completely different. He sat in the back, as usual, always arriving on time. He rested his elbows on the table, while covering half of his face with his clasped hands, glimpsing his companions talking to each other.

“Hey” He heard a whisper, Levon directed his gaze towards his companion at the next table. Colton has an average height of 1.70 m and a slim but athletic build. She has a fair complexion, with a slight hint of freckles on the bridge of her nose. His face is attractive, with a strong jaw and a small dimple on his chin. He has intense black eyes, which usually shine with energy and enthusiasm. He has short, messy, dark brown hair. Her dressing style is out of the ordinary, modern and preppy. He prefers graphic t-shirts, skinny jeans and sneakers. His wardrobe features a mix of bright and neutral colors, and he often adds a trendy belt or modern watch to complement his outfit. And without a doubt, very sociable, he loves to joke with his friends and bother others. Maybe the complete opposite of him.

"What do you want?" Levon responded a little abruptly, perhaps because of the nervousness that was overwhelming him on his first day, he felt very uncomfortable. “Have you heard about the new one yet?” Colton asked. “Yes,” Levon responded dryly to him, looking away and looking ahead.

They stayed for a few minutes not knowing what to say between the two of them. Levon was still tense, not knowing much what to say. The noise in the class continued for a few more minutes, until, inevitably, a firm heeled step began to be heard in the hallway, approaching the classroom, which Levon noticed. He looked towards the door.

The woman entered the classroom while closing the door tightly behind her, attracting the gaze of all the students. Cautiously the woman left her things on the table and walked towards the blackboard. He began to write, while everyone sat in their respective assigned seats. When she finished writing, she turned around, facing the students, “I am Miss (last name)” she introduced herself, she directed her hands towards the back of her back.

Levon began to get a better look at the woman, realizing how much she resembled a person he saw just this weekend. She was undoubtedly beautiful, perhaps it was her eyes that determinedly inspected each student, or her lips that curved upward slightly, exuding a presence of perseverance and admiration. “I will be your professional, modern music teacher for a while,” she spoke, her voice melodious, almost as if an angel had spoken. Her wonderful eyes fell on him, on Levon.

Looking away, Miss (last name) turned to address the others. “Paper and pen, now,” he said with a beautiful smile.

While Levon took out his paper and pen, Colto addressed Levon, ensuring that the teacher did not see or hear them. “Damn, she's so hot, don't you think?” he asked Levon. Levon looked up angrily. “Shut up and have respect for her, she's a teacher,” he responded. “Boy” turned towards the voice, paying attention, praying that it wasn't drawing attention to him. “The boy in the white t-shirt, stand up!” He tensed up, even sweating, realizing that you were attracting his attention. He lightly got up from his chair, barely breathing.

“Boy, tell me your name.”

“Levon Shaw, miss,” he responded, looking down slightly to the other side, with great tension. “Well, Mr. Shaw, tell me, do you play an instrument?” She asked again, Levon quickly shook his head, asking what his next question would be. The woman remained thoughtful for a few seconds, “Which instrument would you like to learn to play this year, Mr. Shaw?” “I think the drums, Miss” he lied, it was the first instrument that crossed his mind. “Perfect, it's exactly what I want, sit down,” you demanded, Levon at that moment was able to breathe easy as he sat down, grateful that he wasn't your target in bad ways, grateful that he did well for you.

“And please, Mr. Shaw, tell your friend in the blue shirt that a musician's ear is very, very keen on hearing sounds” she smiled with great and false innocence towards the boy next to her. Levon looked at him meticulously, Colton's ears turned red with embarrassment, apparently he had him in his sights.

The minutes passed and Levon couldn't stop looking at the woman, watching her move and talk among the students, wishing he could talk to her. The class is considered over when the bell rings, a new change of classroom and class. Each student gave their respective role. Levon was the last to hand it over. (Name) looked curiously at Levon, smiling sweetly at him, giving him the most beautiful smile Levon had ever seen in his entire life, brushing his fingers against hers as he gives her his sheet of paper and leaves the classroom to his room. next class.

[belphegor1982]

HEY WAITAMINUTE IS "underture" a reference to the music term "overture"? Mayhaps a Scanlan WIP?!?!

srryok bai now

Yup, kind of! It's the first CR I got an idea for - in March last year, for TLOVM, as I hadn't even watched most of the first campaign yet - and, incidentally, the only one out of five fics (/comics, if you count Scar Tissue) and 2 WIPs that doesn't begin with the letter S :P (not even on purpose, it just happened!)

Okay, so this fic exists because of three reasons:

• "Underture" is a title on the Who's concept album Tommy (and yes, a play on "overture"!) because the titular lad is Going Through It (and being made to taste drugs iirc). I discovered that album around 2002 and love the word.

• One of my favourite fics overall (like, all fandoms) is @plothooksinc's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2003) "Underdark", which has Leo and Mikey fall under the city in complete darkness and try to make their way back to their brothers (and the surface), with Mikey as the 1st person narrator. It is hilarious and super tense and glorious and one of the great classics in the entire franchise's fandom, imo (or should be). Since I read it in the mid-to-late 2000s I had no idea that "Underdark" was actually a D&D term and was gobsmacked when I learned! The more you know :D

• And the main reason this WIP exists is because I essentially went "wait, what if "Underdark", but make it Vax and Scanlan". Of course, now it took a life of its own and there's going to be a Structure to it (start in media res, and then alternate "how we got there" chapters and "so what's happening in the creepy dark in the present" chapters). With a healthy dose of getting to know each other and going from essentially work colleagues to friends 💜

Here's a little excerpt from page 2, so literally the start of the fic (for context, Vax got washed down a mine and wakes up alone in a tunnel):

And, somewhere in the distance, a familiar voice.

“…help?”

Vax scrambled up, finding purchase on the slippery rock wall nearby, chasing sound rather than sight. The world in front of him was little more than blobs in varying shades of black. His ears were more reliable than his eyes right now.

“Where are you?” he called. “Are you okay?”

“Define ‘okay’?”

Vax bit back a tart comment. Damn Scanlan and his utter and complete inability to be serious.

“Like, not hurt? Can you move? What’s your position?”

“Not… great.”

“What do you mean?” Vax asked sharply, still half-feeling his way along the wall. Scanlan’s voice was getting clearer, or at least closer; it also sounded breathless, strained, small in a way it rarely did. Vax could only hope most of that could be chalked up to the sore throat he’d been complaining about for the last couple of days.

There was a scrabble and a gasp. When Scanlan spoke again his pitch had climbed a few notes.

“I mean I’m kinda hanging off a cliff? Or some kind of ledge, anyway. And uh, my fingers are getting real tired, if you know what I mean.” A short, nervous laugh. “I really really don’t want to lose fingernails. It hurts like a mother and it makes playing the lute really difficult.”

“Hang on and keep talking,” said Vax, straining his ears and trying to ignore his pounding heart. “I’m on my way.”

“Okay. Usually, not really a problem, but uh… Aw, crap.” There was a strangled sound, like he’d choked up on a cough, and some more scratching. “You know me, I talk – I talk real good. B—big fan of talking. I’m a great talker, too. Talker, singer, player – give me any instrument and it is on, baby. I mean I’ve never tried the double bass, you know, those big-ass cellos. Got curious but the bow alone is almost bigger than me, so that sucks. Plus they’re really expensive. Vax?”

“Yes?”

“Hurry?”

Vax practically ran around a corner and stared into the dark as hard as he could. The tunnel in front of him kept going in a downward slope, the ceiling gradually getting lower; there was a pathway of sorts along the wall, but most of the rocky ground seemed to disappear, as though erased from existence, into the starkest black Vax had ever seen. Rivulets of water trickled into it from the walls and the ground, slithering between protruding rocks, the only movement he could discern.

Wait… Not quite the only movement.

Vax bolted towards the fingers he could see grasping at a small rocky ridge a foot or so below the edge.

“Shitshitshitshit,” he could hear Scanlan chanting, his breathing now frantic and his voice gone beyond squeaky. “Vax…!”

Three things happened almost instantaneously:

Vax reached down and grabbed one of Scanlan’s arms just as his fingers lost their grip on the ledge.

In a last-ditch attempt to find a hold of something, Scanlan’s other hand shot up and closed around the clasp of Vax’s cloak.

Vax belatedly realised he’d miscalculated as Scanlan’s weight and his own momentum carried him past the edge and into the black.

(welp, they're dead :P no they're not but they certainly think so for a hot second)

[aym-nowen]

Pleasure and Uneasiness About Being in New Orleans

Not sure if that's grammatically correct.

I am a little uneasy living in a city that is probably the gun murder capital of the world. (As it is apparently the murder capital of America).

I really enjoy the quiet here in New Orleans, but I'm constantly wondering if I'm going to get shot, because I see it so much in the news. The quiet was surprising to me, as everyone said this city is loud. It reminds me of France in this way, with the riverfront park full of families partying and playing music on a humid, sunny Saturday.

I haven’t been to a city in America yet where I've liked the parks. I checked out the parks of New York City — BLESSED BE BUSHWICK, look up Maria Hernandez Park and you’ll see why — Philadelphia — the Wissahickon seems beautiful and I only explored the TIP of it in the winter when all the trees were sleeping — Hawai’i’s Big Island — you don’t picnic easily on lava rock/spiky grass and with mosquitos that eat you alive, to which I believe I am allergic — and Los Angeles — spectacular super bloom this year but don’t let the aesthetics of the Instagram posts fool you. It is fucking loud over there. So many cars. So much agitated, on-the-go energy. BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ.

I love the pace of New Orleans, which seems too good to be true. Slow driving, small roads. An open-air street trolley, warm wind caressing my face. Colorful buildings, majestic old trees covered in vines. Trees everywhere. A beautiful French quarter, once you get to the quieter streets and can actually observe calmly. I can hear cicadas in the park, and an occasional crow cackling into the humid hot air, which feels like being constantly wrapped in a blanket, or being back in the womb.

I do wonder about the safety of the buildings here. I am currently Couchsurfing and the apartment’s floor slopes downward until you get to my room, which has three beautiful large windows. Cars barely pass by on the street. It’s pretty quiet, though I can hear a rush of cars in the distance. My hearing and body in general are very sensitive, so I’m trying to find a nice place to live where I don’t feel stressed out. I feel the building wobble sometimes when I or my host walks around. In my last post I talked about how the institutional HARD ROCK HOTEL crumbled and killed people. I wonder if I am living in a city that doesn’t protect its people. Europe felt so safe to me, so safe. We had a social system, and Daddy Government did a better job at honoring the social contract (between taxpayers and tax collectors and managers — aka the government).

I keep reading about people, mothers, getting murdered here, and I’m wondering what’s the whole story. A few days ago I read that the tenth woman has been shot dead this year.

Why are mothers getting murdered? Do people have no respect? What values do people live by here? In Hawai’i, it was “Aloha Spirit” which kept people from killing one another. I think about and notice these things, the values and myths which keep people from descending into flesh-eating “anarchy” in every place I’ve lived. (Though I am interested in anarchy as a form of collective living.) I’m also interested in the norms on social media and how trust can be formed with others over the internet, when you are one of the unfortunate digital nomads who keeps up a sense of community through the Internet. And yet here I am, writing for your eyeballs, instead of creating connections with the people who surround me…. Ta Ta for Now…

[dysfunctjon]

I’m tired of people telling me it will be okay. As if I’m some sort of martyr for going through trauma I didn’t ask for. I’m tired of it defining who I am. I am tired of complaining about it. I am tired of being told how strong I am, how I can handle it and have dealt with these things before. In that case is my life worth living knowing there will never be a set time in my life where I’m happy? Where my entire world can flip around and switch on my own brain and then I’m stuck discovering ways to kill myself for months? This is the lowest I’ve ever been. I don’t know if I can keep going lower, but yet again, I get proven wrong every time I wake up. It is sick. This shit is sick. I sincerely don’t know who I am anymore. It’s like a mirror shattering and millions of shards scatter across the ground and I am then demanded to fix it and piece it back together. There are so many cuts on my hands and the glass rests itself in there while I attempt to fix something completely unsalvageable. I am far gone, and completely incapable of saving. I have no personality, interests, hobbies, talents, looks, or anything. I don’t feel anything. I am genuinely a walking skeleton with decently working organs with no purpose other than to showcase people what you should not aspire to be. I am barely alive. Im conscious, but there is nothing there. I am yelled at and scolded inside of my own brain. There are so many unrecognizable people and unfamiliar voices in my brain telling me how bad they wish I was dead. I’ve been hearing this shit forever. I don’t know why I have not gathered the courage to do it. I’m scared because I don’t know if there’s anything after this, meaning there is genuinely no escape for me. The fact that I’ve been in deadly situations yet I’m still alive makes me feel as if this is God’s personal purgatory for me. I can’t succeed in killing myself, getting into car accidents, almost having my house destroyed, violence, or anything because God will always find a way to keep me here to torment me forever. I will lose no matter what I do. I want to die. I’m so tired of existing. Even the good things that happen to me never completely satisfy me because I’m such an ungrateful brat. I don’t even have the right to complain about most of this because I have all of my answers in front of my face yet I don’t take them. Now that’s another problem. I don’t know why I can’t push myself to do it. Is it because I’m comfortable here? I feel the opposite. I feel miserable and from the moment I wake up to the time I go to sleep I think about just how great it would be if I died. I have prayed to God to kill me off. I have prayed to deities to kill me while I sleep, or to kill me in any way they see fit. They’re keeping me alive to progress forward, only to rip away everything again in the future. I don’t know who to believe, to rely on, to trust, or to support. I’m so tired of needing to go through this all. I know life is hard, that life changes both negatively and positively, but it feels like I’ve been on a downward slope heading straight down to hell. I was doomed before my mother even birthed me. I will always hate her for not throwing herself down a flight of stairs to kill me. I will always hate her for not getting an abortion. I will always hate her for not strangling me in my sleep when I was a child. I will always hate her and my father for forming me into this amalgamation of a human being, if you can even call me one. I am nothing. I am complete, utter garbage compared to everyone else. I am worthless. I don’t know what makes me happy anymore, I don’t know what I like, I don’t know who I am. My brain eats itself everyday. My heart gets less functioning everyday. My liver begs me to stop drinking because truthfully, it doesn’t even help me cope anymore. Nothing does. Not art, not music, not self harming, not smoking, not drinking, nothing. Am I doing this to myself? I don’t even know. I’m not here most of the time. I am off somewhere unfamiliar and I don’t know where that place is.

There’s never a moment of silence in my head, and it’s always rapidly spiraling and going so many miles per hour I don’t know what to believe anymore. I have gotten so desperate and I’m need of help that I’ve reached out to God on so many different occasions and I think all he does is listen and laugh at me. I don’t know what I have done in this life or the last that has made me a complete embarrassment to society. I am in the process of isolating away from everyone because I can’t trust them anymore. I don’t like anybody anymore. Not even the people that make me the happiest do that anymore. It hurts. I am lost. I have been so fucking depressed that I don’t even think depression is the right word. I wish that I was killed off every single day. I have written so many suicide notes and they rest dormant in my beside drawer where all of my blades and empty alcohol bottles are. This is a cry for help. I’ve tried everything and it seems like there is nothing I can do anymore. It makes me feel sick. I wish that I could feel normal. I don’t know what to do, or how to get myself to care about anything anymore. I’m so miserable.

[via-vi]

Diligent Blog # 4

I think I'm failing the diligent blog... Anyway, I have been working on an idea for a visual novel type game for about a month. Right now its just plot and characters. I haven't tried to do anything within a game engine yet. I am also trying to make music at the same time. I'm.. in the learning stages. I found out that I really suck at two things: rhythm and arrangement/structure. I make a decent 8 bar melody with chords and then I'm like what's next.

I got distracted um I like I tried to fold two sticky notes to lay them underneath my keyboard wrist rest cause I am lazy and I want it higher so I put them down under the wrist rest, right, but it didn't feel right. And my wrist rest is just a simple black slab of thin cushion with a downward slope towards me and like this slab worked really well with my last keyboard but the one I have now has a higher base and don't get me wrong I love this keyboard. It is pink, it is gradient, it is beautiful and sounds beautiful, but I am a lazy short fingered bum that doesn't want to put in the effort to raise my wrists to type. I understand its not ergonomic and that I also could just buy a new, flat and tall wrist rest, but again, I am just too damn lazy.

Jumping back to the original topic, I want to stir up a story bible. After that, I might play around with Godot and the Dialogue Manager plugin. See if what I want is possible with my level of skills and if I have to change the plug in, or game engine. Hope not.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Throwback Thursday!

Many thanks to everyone that contributed to WEDNESDAY WORDS yesterday. Every week, it just gets better! An amazing selection of lyrics, poems, words of wisdom and great lines from films. One of The Trouble’s top friends is making a special 60th birthday present for her. I’m not totally sure what it is but I look forward to seeing it. The friend asked me to ask The Trouble what her favourite Paulette and Claudette song was, and The Trouble said, ‘Watching You’, which is a song on the second album, written by me! The Trouble’s friend wanted the lyrics, so I think my words are about to be part of that birthday present.

On this page, ‘Throwback Thursday’ is about memories. So, what do you remember? If I was to say the word RUN, what immediately comes to mind?

My mind immediately goes back to my final sports day at primary school. I had just had a major growth spurt and I was a foot taller than all my classmates. I was entered for the 100 yard dash (on a stretch of grass sloping slightly downwards) at our sports ground on Aylmer Road. The race begins, I’m galloping down the field and there is no one around me. Maybe there’s been a false start? I look to the left, no one, I look to the right, no one, I veer into another lane and the kid in that lane runs into me. I fly arse-over-tit and lie, motionless, on the ground, wondering what the hell has just happened? I just lay there, half-dazed, half-embarrassed, until a teacher shouted down the course and told me to get up quickly because the next race was starting! Oh, the shame! If only I’d kept focused on the finish line.

The word RUN also reminds me of this cool period in my life when I was running from our house in Highgate up to the pond at Hampstead Heath and back. I think it’s the healthiest I’ve ever been in my life. It enabled me to do cross country running at my secondary school and even deliver a respectable time. For a fat boy, this was a major achievement. If I could run 200 yards now, I’d be a happy bunny!

So, on this Throwback Thursday, what kind of memories does the word RUN conjure up for you?

Our nephew Jonatan (Yung Lean) is in London to film a new promotional video, so we had a major family dinner at our house last night. He lives your normal rock star life (writing, recording, touring, playing live gigs, filming videos and repeat) but, when he’s in London, he wants his Auntie Claudette’s home cooking and just to shoot the breeze with his cousins. When he was a kid and I was working at MTV, I used to give him piles of CDs by US and UK rappers and, just like his clever parents, he has forged a solid career for himself.

In amongst all the prepping, teaching and marking, in coming weeks, we’ve got lots to look forward to. ‘The A-Z Of Mi-Soul Music’ is coming live from Summer Soulstice this Saturday (June 24), there’s a jazzy, live music birthday party on June 25th, we have a yummy BBQ on July 1st, I’ll be doing Mi-Soul’s ‘Concert At The Castle’ event in Windsor on July 9th, it’s the Margate Soul Festival on the weekend of August 4th, then I’m looking forward to going back to Stevenage on Bank Holiday Sunday, August 27th for ‘Let The Music Play’. And, of course, we’ll be back and forth to Hove regularly to see Lady Wesker.

Have a throbbing and thrusting Thursday (with hopefully a few thrills through your thoroughfare?) I love you all.

[soleilnomoon]

3.9k words, afab reader, nsfw - toji is a menace, i'm not sorry

prompt // “i’ve never wanted to fuck anyone so badly.”

summary: where y/n is a bartender at a club that toji keeps frequenting - gojo makes an appearance, apparently. and yes, i'm pretending toji is alive.

cw: alcohol use

fic request for @strawhatsoraya; i wash my hands of this, ok. next ⤹

“tell me,” your voice is a honeyed, delicate thing that oozes into him in the worst possible way. he’s so absolutely aware of you that it startles him. “what’s the story behind your scar?” you’ve asked this question before—a few times, actually—and he’s always brushed you off. his gaze lowers, dark eyes watching the amber liquid slosh around every time he tilts his glass. 

“it’s not a particularly interesting story,” he reasons carefully, almost cautiously, downing the drink in one go; impressive, you think—he’s had six drinks already and is only marginally tipsy. it’s not that he’s ashamed to tell the story, he’s just really not in the fucking mood. and after having the afternoon he had, he just wants to unwind and not think about shit.

namely, the story behind his scar.

you don’t press him and simply grab his glass to clean it. he frowns at you, dark brows sloping downward as he watches you walk away from the counter. 

“i’m not done drinking,” he insists, slouching over the barstool, his form-fitting black shirt lifting slightly, giving you a peak of his toned stomach. you blink quickly, not wanting to get caught up in those thoughts again, and pour yourself a shot of tequila. you don’t normally drink on the job, but the club owner is away and their idiot sister is in charge—she gives stupidity a bad name, in your opinion, so it’s not an issue if you break a rule. or two. or three, you remind yourself as you knock back the shot. the liquid burns your throat, warming you, dulling your nerves—when it comes to him, you need to keep your guard up. 

there’s something about him that calls out to you; you ignore the urge, opting instead to move around and keeping your hands busy.

head propped up by his large hand, his savage, green eyes never leave you—they can’t, it’s physically impossible for him. so when you slightly sway your hips to the music blasting around the club, heavy bass rumbling deeply inside of you, he watches you. the beat is hypnotic, lyrics and accompanying instruments reminding you of home. but, it’s not home that catches your attention, and it’s not home that looks at you like you’re prey to be hunted. 

an unsettling need bubbles up inside of him; if he had more alcohol, he’d be able to resist the temptation. but, since you won’t serve him anymore, the beast that he normally keeps on a leash—a short, cruel leash—breaks free.

and, unfortunately for you, toji plays with his meals before he eats.

your large, dark brown eyes remind him of forgotten promises, shared smiles, and forbidden desires. except, nothing is ever really off limits for him; he knows this, everyone who knows of him knows this too. you contemplate this as you grab a chilled bottle of water and toss it at him; you have an arm on you, despite the short distance. toji catches the water bottle with ease, hand gripping the plastic tightly. 

“s’not the kind of drink i came for.” he gives you a meaningful look, one that set your your cheeks aflame, more than it should—although, with him, you always feel like you’re stumbling around, unaware of the perils around you. he’s a monster, but you’re not here to tame him. 

you’ve met men like him before; unhinged, ruthless, eyes increasingly growing soulless with each contracted kill. his type come in and out of the club all the time, and they’ve never held your interest until now. at first, he ignores you, just orders drink after drink—no one else is brave enough to handle his proximity but you. and after the first night, he frequents multiple times a week, ordering enough alcohol to incapacitate someone several times over.

you don’t know why that interests you, or why his haunted look draws you in, or why when he gives you clipped, pointed responses to your overly curious questions, that a small butterfly flutters eagerly in your chest. it’s pathetic, honestly.

and, realistically, you know it’s not possible for this sort of thing to end well; you stopped believing in happy endings years and years ago, your naivety is buried somewhere along with your optimism. when toji opens up the water bottle and starts to drink from it, you feel extremely parched—his eyes are still on you, almost as if he’s waiting for an opening before he can attack.

“too bad,” you say, throat unnecessarily dry, your tongue moistening your lips before you speak again. “i’m cutting you off.” it’s almost like you’re telling yourself that, but it’s just like you to believe in an alternate version of events just to ease your conscience. a few more patrons noisily sit at the bar, the small group clamoring for your attention in between all their laughter and inside jokes.

you almost leap at the distraction, eager to serve them so that you can put some distance between you and him. his eyes are still on you as you start to take their orders, your brown fingers flying nervously twirling some of your hair, although your face says a different story—you’re a highly capable employee and one man can’t just disrupt your world like this.

he’s not someone who acts without thinking, but for some reason, it actively agitates him that your friendly, personable demeanor attracts groups of people night after night. at first, he decides it’s simply because the more time you spend with others, the less alcohol he’s allowed to consume; but then after the twelfth night, he’s had enough. so he starts sabotaging in little ways; whenever someone flirts with you, he makes a big show of monopolizing your time and they eventually leave you alone. 

he’s made it absolutely impossible for anyone to try and ask you out—which, doesn’t bother you at all; you’re tired of telling them to leave you alone, since you have no desire to date any customer that finds their way to the bar.

well, all except one, that is.

it takes one severe look from him—one that promises a small taste of violence—to scare the newcomers away, effectively emptying out the bar. you sigh loudly and dramatically, casting a sideways glance his way, annoyance building, your patience waning.

“what the hell was that for?” 

you place a hand on your hip, his eyes lingering on your curves; that initial friendliness no longer present in your eyes, leaving behind a more raw, truer version of yourself. he flashes you a sly smile, finishing off the water without issue and motioning for you to pour him another drink. “i don’t like to share, and they’re not worth your time,” he says in lieu of an apology, thinking the answer is adequate enough to satisfy you.

the statement guts you; he’s just saying that, he has to be, right? but, a man like toji doesn’t just say those things without intent.

you inhale deeply, tell yourself to calm down, and grab an expensive bottle of whiskey—the club won’t miss it. adrenaline pumps through you, a dull ringing resounding in your ears—is it nerves? you’re not too sure. but you do know that if you back out now, you can never face him again.

“if you wanted to have a drink with me,” you say as you lean against the counter, the top few buttons of your blouse undone, giving him an exclusive look at your ample breasts, enticing him to heed your words carefully. “then just ask to drink with me.”

if you weren’t using the counter for support, your legs might’ve given out, simply from the way his lips curve into a wicked smirk. toji grabs the bottle of whiskey from your hand with enough force to make you stumble forward, to which he leans in, his mouth ghost-like as it grazes the shell of your ear. 

“stop wasting my time.”

you almost ask what he means by that, but he hops off of the stool, long legs carrying him away from the bar—with that full bottle of whiskey, you realize; you call out to him, but he weaves in and out of the crowd of dancing people. biting down on your plush lower lip, you wave down one of your coworkers to cover for you as you chase after toji. you don’t know what’s come over you; he’s somehow infiltrated your thoughts, kicking away your self preservation, reason, and dignity. there’s no reason for you to chase after him, and yet you can’t help it.

you get turned around in the dimly lit club, annoyed that he left you as quickly as he did. with a defeated sigh, you rake a hand through your hair, combing through a few pesky curls, ready to just give up and head back to the bar when a thick, muscular arm wraps around you from behind. 

the scent of his cologne is easily recognizable; it makes your mind fuzzy, and if it had hands, it would choke you forever. “caught you,” he says against the side of your neck, the sensation stirring a hunger that you’ve always kept hidden. “i thought we were drinking together.”

barely registering his words as he pulls you against him—that ringing in your ears comes back again—you arch against his hold, round ass rubbing against the front of him; reckless, absentminded behavior. it drives you wild.

“my shift isn’t over yet,” you say without issue, his mouth pressing heated kisses against your exposed neck; his cock hardening without a care—another thing that annoys him. 

he nips your skin roughly, voice low, yet you can hear him perfectly. “how much longer?” he hates this particular club, but keeps coming back because you’re the only interesting thing here. 

your fingers dig into his arm, but it doesn’t phase him. “an hour,” you mumble deliriously, head spinning from the aftershocks of his kisses.

“reduce the time,” he commands in a harsh, yet alluring tone, teeth tugging on your earlobe as he continues to keep you close to him.

“b-by how m-much?” the stuttering is new, but you’re too far gone to be confused by it, especially when his hand travels lower, dipping between your legs, rubbing the inside of your thigh. the material from your jeans is thin enough that it almost feels like his fingers are touching your skin. 

“fifty-five minutes, to be exact,” toji says matter-of-factly, giving you little wiggle room to argue. try as he might, patience evades him.

“i can’t just leave my job,” you say with your eyes half-closed, the intoxicating effect of his presence watering down the bite in your tone. “i’ll get fired.” not that you care, you can find another job; it’s just really flexible and convenient for you to work here.

he nudges you with the bottle, voice leaving little room for discussion. “five minutes.” and then he’s gone. your thoughts race, you suddenly feel like the club is too small, there are too many people, too many voices, smells—maybe you should leave early. it’s not a radical idea, and when you head back to the bar to inform your coworker, you don’t wait for a response. you bump into someone unexpectedly, an apology on your lips until you realize who it is.

“be careful around him,” the pale, white-haired man says, caution in his voice despite playing it off as if he's joking, his trademark sunglasses obscuring his eyes.

your response is less than pleasant; gojo satoru is every bit as obnoxious as ever. “i can take care of myself, thanks.”

he shrugs languidly and gives you that sly smile of his before moving through the crowd again. you shake off the feeling that his warning might have merit and continue on.

it takes you eight minutes to get outside; you figure it’s not a big deal, but when you find toji sitting outside in his shiny black car—something fast and possibly expensive—his windows down, music trickling out, his eyes drift your way and he wordlessly calls you over with his middle and pointer finger. 

your feet and legs are traitors, your heart even more so; a slight giddiness takes over, making you drunk on the possibilities that the night might bring. you barely sit down and close the door, before he’s driving off, foot heavy on the gas as he speeds through the city. he’s left the windows down, laughing darkly as you fret over your hair flying everywhere. you try to put the window up, not liking how nippy the air is, but he engages you in a childish sort of battle, pressing the button each and every time to ensure that the window stays down.

he doesn’t know why he does it, just that it’s funny to see you get worked up over it.

you’re sure you’ve lost your mind when you follow him out of the car, into the building of his apartment. he nudges you into the elevator, surprisingly keeping his hands to himself even when you reach his floor. but, once you’re inside his place, you snatch the whiskey from him, waltzing around his apartment in search of some shot glasses. you grin when you find what you need, already pouring the whiskey and swallowing the liquid with ease.

toji has other plans, however. you feel him follow behind you silently into the kitchen, and when you glance at him once over your shoulder, it’s all the invitation he needs. you don’t remember how, but the drink is now forgotten, and he’s perched you on top of the counter, your jeans and blouse tossed haphazardly onto the floor behind him. with your shapely legs wrapped around him, chest pressed against his, toji pours some of the whiskey into your mouth and drinks from you.

you don’t know why, but it spins you out of control. your nails drag along his back, his mouth devouring yours, expertly sucking on your tongue; it takes a lot to get toji drunk, but you somehow make the impossible happen. impulsively, you unhook your bra, your breasts catching his attention immediately. as you lean back against your hands, he pours whiskey onto your skin, watching as it travels down your breast, dripping slowly. 

the slight raise of his brow is all the warning you get; toji’s mouth is a sinful, disrespectful thing, teeth tugging on your hardened nipple before his tongue flicks against it. you try to stifle a moan but he tsks and roughly pinches your other nipple with his fingers. 

“ah, toji that hurts damn it.” it doesn’t hurt at all, it just surprised you—the surprise being that you’re pitifully invested in him using your body as he sees fit, your back arching in a way that silently begs him for more.

he ignores your words and licks the area clean, making sure he’s lapped up all of the alcohol before responding. “you talk too much,” he says lightly, tugging on your flimsy panties and ripping them off of you. a small moan leaves you, the sensation lighting your skin on fire. you open your mouth to tell him that he’s going to have to deal with your talking and he stuffs your panties into your mouth.

satisfied, he gives you an impish grin. “much better.” he almost seems pleased. but it’s when his lips trail down your chest, placing kiss after kiss along your soft skin, tongue reminding you that this isn’t a dream, it’s really happening.

your legs part for him, almost automatically. you watch him through your lashes, chest heaving as he runs his warm hands along your thighs. he feels like he’ll never have enough time to explore all of you, and you feel like you’ll die from all of his teasing. his fingers dip lower, stroking your folds before slipping between them.

 “i haven’t done anything, and you’re already this wet.”

you stare at him incredulously, eyes widening, an argument lodged in the back of your throat, struggling despite the fact that you’re still keeping your panties in your mouth—the possibility that he might actually stop his ministrations if you don’t listen growing with each passing second. what an impossible man, you think. and while you slightly fear that you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, you remain put, excitement blinding you so that you can’t properly see reason. 

when he slides a finger inside of you, your hips buck against his palm, pussy a comfortable and moist warmth against his skin. he plunges his finger in and out of you, unrelenting, adding an additional finger when your moans get louder. you bite down on your panties, panting as your hips roll, an addictive heat searing through you, a shiver shooting down your spine. you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, or him, or both, but you’ve never felt more alive.

he finger-fucks you mercilessly, going fast then slow, the changing speeds making your body tremble with want. when he finally pulls the panties from your mouth, he kisses you, tongue hypnotizing you as he scissors his fingers inside of you, thumb rubbing circles around your clit. you moan into his mouth, desperate for him to give you what you need, but he stops.

“toji, please…” you whine, nearly in tears, hating that he just won’t fuck you properly already. 

“we agreed to a drink,” he says, body lowering until his mouth is level with your pussy; you suck in a sharp breath, ready to tell him off but he wastes no time. toji eats you out like a crazed and starved man, while also proving to you that he is every bit as dangerous as you originally thought. you want to point out that this is definitely more than just a drink, but your mind is putty at the moment.

his hands hold you still, tongue thrusting inside of you as if this is a regular occurrence for him, your toes curling as you moan louder. “oh, god,” you cry out once he flicks his tongue against your clit, his fingers sliding back into you with ease. toji’s movements still and you open your eyes to stare at him, out of breath, body only responding to his touch. 

“god isn’t here, try again,” he says gruffly before sucking on your clit hard, inserting a third finger, the walls of your pussy tightening around him as you ride his face shamelessly. you’re annoyed that you like the way he talks to you; you almost want to keep quiet out of spite, but it’s impossible with him at the helm.

“oh, toji, fuck.”

it’s not often that you’re taken aback by an orgasm, but somehow toji manages to take every rational thought you’ve ever had and hurl them out of the window, leaving only enough room for irrationality and lust to take over. he doesn’t stop, though, not until you’re whimpering, slightly drooling, and grabbing his hair roughly, barely able to talk, voice slightly hoarse from how loud you got.

he stands up and licks his lips; hastily, you pull his hand towards you, tongue darting out to taste yourself on him before he shoves his fingers into your mouth. he doesn’t have to tell you, you’re already sucking purposefully, his eyelids lowering slightly as his breathing turns ragged.

it’s an unprecedented moment, one that toji will just have to think on later; he rarely invites anyone over, let alone fucks anyone at his place—he wonders what makes you different, what makes him want to keep you here longer than necessary.

you don’t give him an answer, his cock hard enough to brush those thoughts away from his mind; your hands fumble as they unbutton his jeans and tug down his zipper. when he’s finally naked, you stroke him, putting him in a trance, precum leaking from his tip onto your hand. the moan he lets out encourages you to tighten your grip a little, stroking him faster, as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter. he licks your bottom lip and you lift your hips, pussy throbbing and glistening with arousal, tempting him in every kind of way.

toji enters you in one go, burying most of his cock into you before sliding out. your eyelids flutter when he slams into you again and he grabs your face roughly, forcing you to look up at him. “don’t close your eyes,” he says in between thrusts, which you want to point out, is easy for him to say.

still, you don’t want to give him any reason to stop, so you keep your eyes open as long as you can. he releases you, lips dropping kisses along your jaw, his hips knocking against yours wildly. his hands run along your thighs, squeezing your hips, grabbing your ass in the way he’s always wanted to. he almost admits that he’s wanted to fuck you since the night you two met, but he keeps it to himself, not wanting any sort of vulnerability with you once all of this is over.

you claw at his chest weakly, calling out his name loud enough to arouse his neighbors. they’re too intimidated by toji to say anything—not that it matters, you’re not really thinking about them. especially not when his cock pummels into you like that, hips snapping as he gives you short, vicious strokes, balls slapping against you in a way that has you clenching around him tighter than before.

“that’s it,” he coaxes in between kisses, voice husky, your hips rolling to meet his with each thrust. “good girl, you’re taking me so well.” if you weren’t so caught up in moaning his name, you’d laugh; your pussy will be sore after this, you know that, but you can’t help it. you’ll willingly let yourself get ensnared in his trap again. and again. and again. 

you’re barely functional, your legs wrapped around him tightly, holding him to you, hips angled in a way that has his cock pushing into you deeper. “oh god,” you start again, and when he bites your lip you amend your statement. “toji.”

and, despite almost moaning your name four times, he tries to flip the script. “actually,” he says against your ear, your nails sinking into his skin deeply, “call me god again. i think i like it.”

your want to slap him, but he fucks you harder, rendering you speechless. it’s when your eyes roll back that another orgasm tears through you—ruthless and uncaring, leaving you a panting, noisy mess. you’ve never squirted before but it seems toji’s crossed that off of your bucket list. a flush crawls onto your skin, you bury your face in his chest as he gives you mind-numbing thrusts, ones that have you writhing, a different throb pulsing through you as he groans.

he pulls out and cums all along your thighs and stomach. a close one, really; he nearly forgot himself. he sucks in a breath, both of you sweaty, sticky, and still yearning for one another. you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, lips brushing against his scar gently; that move alone unnerves him, has him holding you in a way that doesn’t make sense to him.

“don’t think i’m letting you go tonight,” he reminds you, a bit ominously, but you just roll your eyes and lightly smack your hand on his chest. and when you open your mouth to counter his statement, he adds, “i’m still not done having my drink, yet.”

[yuta-senpai]

Personal Trainer | Mingyu

- Genre: Smut. Mingyu x Female Reader

- Warnings: Choking, spit, oral (M & F receiving), daddy kink, squirting, and unprotected sex.

- Word Count: 2.7k

You stood outside the gym and knocked on the door.  You bit your lip when you saw your personal trainer walking towards you.  Your week had been busy so he agreed to do a personal session outside of normal hours.  He smiled as he opened the door, “Nice to see you doll.”

You smiled back, “Hey Mingyu.  Nice to see you too.”

He locked the door behind you and then reached out for your bag and you gave it to him.  You both walked towards the stretching section of the gym.  He sat your bag down on one of the benches since you were the only two people there.

“Since your week has been busy I bet I will have to stretch you really good before we start or you won’t be able to handle it.”

He smirked at you, and your face heated up.  You knew he meant it as just stretching but you couldn’t help that you thought dirty things.  

You sat down on the floor and sat your water bottle next to you.  He walked over to start the music, and you watched the way his sweats tightened around his ass when he bent over.  

The music started playing, it seemed more slow and sensual than usual.  He turned around and moved to sit down in front of you, “Let’s start with the basic warm-ups.”

You went through the basic normal stretches as he watched you closely.  After you were finished he smiled “Lay down doll.”

You laid back and he stood over you. “Knees to chest”

You pulled your knees to your chest and watched as he got on his knees and gripped your ankles.  He pulled your left leg out straight beside him, and slowly slid his right hand up from right below your ass to your inner knee, eyeing your body as he did.  

You shuddered at the feeling, he looked up at you, his eyes looking darker than normal.  He pushed down stretching your leg, he held you there for a moment.  He straightened your right leg out, and placed his right hand on your ankle and left on your upper thigh, dangerously close to your core.  He scooted closer and pushed your legs stretching them farther.  He moved his knee forward a bit and let it brush against your core, you took a deep breath in and shuddered.  Was he doing this on purpose or were you just hyper aware of his movements because you two were alone.  He moved his knee back and you continued the leg stretches.  

After you were finished he stood up and offered you his hand, “We are gonna stand up for the final pose doll.”

You took his hand, and he helped you up, pulling you close to this body he stared into your eyes and smiled.  You instinctively placed your hand on his chest and bit your lip.  He looked down to your lips, then quickly flipped you around your back against his chest.  “Go into the downward dog yoga pose. Hands on the floor, and ass up.”

Your face flushed, he knew you knew yoga but you never had used the poses in your stretching routine.  You went to step forward to give yourself room but he grabbed your waist, stopping you.  You giggled “Jeez you like to feel that much you can’t even give me room to bend over?”

He rolls his eyes and you bend forward placing your hands on the floor, your ass pressed against his crotch.

You noticed the way he lightly pushed himself against you then backed away.  He stood next to you and ran his hand up your back straightening it out.

You held the downward dog pose for around 2 minutes then he had you stop.  He looked a little flustered, and you couldn’t help but notice that it looked like he had a slight hard-on, his grey sweatpants doing little to cover it.

He rubbed the back of his head nervously then led you to finish your reps for your arms and legs.  After about an hour you were finally finished with all of your reps.  Throughout the entire workout, he would let his hands linger on you or you would catch him eyeing you.  It was about to drive you insane. You were sitting on the bench where you had just been sitting lifting weights and he was standing next to the weight rack.  If you left you knew that this opportunity might never happen again but what if you misread his intentions and ruined everything.

Biting your lip you stared into his eyes, but he looked down at your lips for a brief moment and took in a long breath.

You figure he was considering the options right now just like you were.  He stepped forward, “You did a good job tonight my doll.”

You couldn’t help but notice the addition of the word ‘my’.

“Ahh thank you Mingyu, it was because you were there to help me.”

You looked down as he got close to you.  He hovered over you now, lifting his hand he gripped your chin and tilted your head up to look at him.  His gaze locking onto your, your lips parted on instinct and he looked down at them.  

“Can I kiss you my doll?”

“Please Mingyu.”

He smiled then leaned down, connecting his lips with yours.  Your body lit up and at that moment all you needed was him.

He pulled you up to stand, and then sat down where you had been sitting, pulling you into his lap.  You could feel his hard-on pressing into your thigh.  A soft whimper left your lips as he kissed down your jawline to your neck.  

He stopped, “Before I continue, I need your full consent because once I start I won’t be able to stop.”

You held onto Mingyu’s jaw and looked at him, “I consent, I want you just as much Mingyu.”

Leaning down you kissed him, and wrapped his arms around your waist, and took in a sharp breath.

“I have been wanting you for a long time doll, but never wanted to overstep my boundaries.”

You smiled against his lips, happy to know he felt the same way as you.

He leaned back against the bench pulling you down with him.  He chuckled “We really shouldn’t fuck in the middle of the gym.  I don’t think the security cameras should see this, I can get a bit… rough.”

You blushed, “Rough?  I like it rough.”

He ran his hands down your back and gripped your ass in his hands. “I’ll give it to you rough then.  But if you can’t walk tomorrow don’t blame me, you chose this.”

He tapped your leg “Get up doll.”

You sat up and smiled, he raised his eyebrow “Stand up, all the way.”

Standing up, he stood up next to you, towering over you.  He gripped your neck and pushed you until the back of your knees hit the weight bench.

“Sit.”

You sat, his hand still pushing against your carotid artery restricting the blood to your head making you light-headed.

“Tap my arm once if you want me to loosen and twice if you want me to let go completely.”

You did your best to nod, he smirked “Such a good girl.  Now open that pretty mouth for me.”

Letting your mouth open he hovered over you and then he opened his mouth letting his saliva drip down his tongue into your mouth.  “Swallow it my doll.”

You swallowed his saliva and sat there panting, it was so dirty and sensual and you craved more.  He smirked “So dirty just for me.

He gripped your hair in his left hand, his right hand tightening around your neck.  A strangled moan left your lips.  He released his grip on your neck, still gripping your hair.  “Pull my sweats down.”

Your fingers hooked onto the waistband of his sweats and you slowly pulled them down along with his underwear, his member was about free.

He chuckled, “I just asked you to pull my sweats down, that eager for it doll?”

“Of course Mingyu.”

A growl left his lips, “Right now you call me daddy, understood?”

You but your lip, “Understood… Daddy.”

He moaned when the name ‘daddy’ left your lips.  

“Go ahead take it out, and suck it.”

You pulled his sweats and boxers all the way down, fully exposing his member to you.  

He was long and thick. “Like what you see doll?”

You licked your lips “Of course daddy, you are so big.”

Gripping his member in your right hand you traced your tongue across the vein on the underside of his member.

He sucked in a deep breath, “Fuuuuck baby doll.”

You looked him in the eyes as you took the head into your mouth, running your tongue along the sensitive nerves connecting the head and shaft.  He groaned and gripped your hair tighter.  “I really wanna fuck that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You moved your hand from his member, relaxed your jaw, and looked at him giving him permission to do just that.

He slowly rolled his hips forward, only pushing in a little ways before pulling back out and rolling back in.  He was testing to see if you could handle it, and when he realized you could he picked up his pace.

He suddenly pushed himself down deep, a bulge forming on your throat from his member.  He held there and groaned loudly.  You swallowed around him and slightly gagged.  He pulled all the way out a string of saliva connecting between your lips and his member.  You gasped for air and smiled, wiping the saliva from your lips.

“So beautiful, and so perfect my doll.”

You smiled softly at him, unsure if you could even speak right now.  He placed his hand on your shoulder.  “Since you were so good I will just have to return the favor.”

He crouched down to your level and slid his hands up under your shirt, pulling it over your head.  He pulled your sports bra off as well, leaving your chest completely bare to him.  His left hand gripped your breast as he placed slow kisses from right above the slope of your breast to the nipple.  

His tongue circled around your hardening nipple as his left hand pinched the other one, causing you to moan loudly.  His lips and tongue danced around your nipples before he kissed down your stomach and hovered over the waistband of your pants.

“Move to the end doll.”

You did as he said and leaned back against the weight bench, he kneeled at the end of the bench and pulled your pants all the way off, leaving you just in your panties.

His warm breath was close to you as if he was taking a moment to breathe you in.  Pushing up on your elbows, he locked eyes with you as he rubbed his thumb across your clit making you jerk.  He smirked and did the motion again, eliciting another moan from you.  

Gripping onto the waistband of your panties he ripped them off and you whined “Why did you have to rip them?”

He chucked, “You said you wanted it rough doll.”

He placed your legs on his shoulder, then gripped your hips and pulled you closer to the end of the bench.  You gasped but he quickly turned that into a moan when he licked from your core up to your clit.  His eyes stayed fixed on yours as his tongue swirled around your already swollen clit.  His tongue flicked up against a particularly sensitive area making you moan out, he stayed licking that spot making your legs shake, you wanted to move away because it was too much but he held you down not allowing you to move.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you saw stars, an immense wave of pleasure washed over you, your body almost convulsing from the pure pleasure.  After you rode out your high you looked down to see the front of Mingyu’s shirt wet and his chin, his eyes wide “D-did you know you could squirt?”

Your face flushed, “No I never have before.”

A smile covered his face “Fuck that was hot.”

He wiped his chin then slipped his middle finger and ring finger into his mouth, coating his fingers with his saliva.  “Wonder if I can make your squirt again.”

You whimpered, “I don’t know, let’s see if you can daddy.”

He bit his lip as he slid his fingers inside of you, stretching you out.  He started off slowly pumping them in and out, he then curled his fingers up rubbing against your g-spot.  You moaned loudly and gripped his arm, he leaned forward, hovering over you watching your expressions as he continued to rub against your g-spot.

Your face twisted up in pleasure as his thumb rubbed circles on your clit at the same time.  He leaned down, almost level with your ear. “Cum for me doll.”

With those words another wave of pleasure washed over you as you tightened around his fingers, your body shook as you gripped onto his arm and moaned out his name.  Ragged breaths left your body as you tried to come back from your high.  You felt soft lips against yours, and you opened your eyes to see Mingyu looking at you happily.  “You are just too perfect doll.  I want to always be the reason you feel this way.”

Your face flushed and you pulled him down and kissed him again.

He backed away and sighed “Sadly I do not have a condom so I think we will have to stop at this.”

You bit your lip “Are you clean?”

His eyes widened “Umm, yes. Are you?”

Smiling, “Yes, and I’m on birth control.  Just fuck me already daddy.”

His eyes darkened, then he pulled his shirt over his head.  “As you wish my doll.”

Lining himself up with your core, he stared into your eyes then slid himself into you.  A low groan leaving his lips and a moan leaving yours.  He placed your legs around his hips and stayed still letting you adjust to his size.  After just a few moments you gripped his right arm “Please move daddy.”

He gripped at our hips and pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you.  He was definitely the rough and deep type of lover.  His hips moved quickly in and out of you as you struggled to not slide up the bench.  You reached above your head and gripped onto edges of the bench holding yourself in place, your breasts bouncing with each thrust.  He groaned and gripped your left breast in his right hand, squeezing the nipple between his fingers.

His left hand massaging your clit.  Your senses were overloaded with all that was happening.  “Cum for me again doll.”

He changed the angle of his hips so he was thrusting up against your g-spot more, with that it sent you over the edge.  Your back arched up off the bench as white filled your eyes, your legs shook, your entire body shook underneath him from the pleasure.  He slowed his thrusts down and he went to pull out to cum.  But your legs were wrapped too tightly around his waist, and you were too lost in ecstasy to know.  He groaned and gripped your waist tightly as he filled you up with his cum, the feeling alone almost causing another orgasm to wash over you.

You laid there trying to catch your breath, you looked up and noticed his abs were wet “You squirted again doll.  Also, I’m sorry I finished inside, you had me locked down.”

You blushed, “Shit I’m sorry.”

He wiped the sweat from his forehead “It’s okay doll.  I’ll forgive you and won’t punish you since you squirted again.”

You both laughed and he pulled out, his cum sliding from inside you.  He gathered it onto his finger and slide it back inside.  You whimpered due to oversensitivity.  “Sorry I just had to do that.”

He reached for a towel and cleaned you before pulling you to his chest.

“Let’s get cleaned up, and I will take you to go get some food.”

He kissed you softly before picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the showers.

[autumnbell32]

Close Your Eyes, See the House

It's not a place I want to visit, but I'm forced to occasionally...sometimes without any precipitating event- a poorly-timed mental reminder that induces a heavy drowsiness. The first time I saw it was when I closed my eyes while listening to the hidden song below. If you close your eyes while you listen, maybe you can come with me...

There is no visible sun. The sky is mostly grey, but the bottoms of some of the clouds are swollen, heavy, a bit darker. I'm not even sure what time it is...early afternoon, I think. It is always that time of day here. I look down while I am walking- cold, oyster colored sand covers my feet with each step. I can't see the ocean. It is at my back, quite a distance from me, but I am sure the water is also grey with whitecaps. If it wasn't for that broken piano playing, I might hear it better. The piano plays all of the time...it is played by no one.

I stop in front of the squat, dilapidated bungalow. Beach grass has overgrown the yard, sand has drifted up against the front of the house. Was there this cool wind before? I don't remember feeling it during the walk but now, as I stand square in front, it is pushing my hair back and exposing my entire face. The porch is sagging- will my feet fall through? There are two large, filthy glass windows on each side of the decaying wooden door...my eyes see no one looking out, but I don't trust my vision. I feel confident in telling you that someone is there, watching and waiting. She's been waiting a long time but she doesn't know that. The out of tune piano still plays, my heart races like a scared rabbit, but I'm drawn forward.

In through a door that swells with the damp...as I struggle to push the ill-fitting door in, the cobwebs are gently laid across my face like a delicate lace death veil. Afternoon darkness, always here. Very little flat grey light filters in through the dirty windows. I feel unwell- my mouth is dry, I can't seem to draw a full breath, or slow my heart. I'm facing a staircase that I will never ascend, and the room to my right has a long, heavy dark mahogany table that has been covered by a white sheet for innumerable decades. To my left, though...to my left is where I am being silently beckoned. Where is that piano that is played continuously by no one?

I strain my eyes, but my pupils remain frightened dilations. Though, the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling have become more visible and blackened with age. The room is overcrowded with old furniture- white sheets cover once hopeful, now faded sitting chairs and side tables and chaises. I haven't seen anything disturbing enough to merit the grimace on my face, but I know she is in here...she always waits here. I'm delaying the inevitable by studying everything in this room that is fully materialized and tangible. I slide my finger down the slope of a rose colored lampshade that has lost its sheet, and my finger returns with a layer of dust that somehow has sand in it. Why has the music become louder?

I raise my eyes slowly and see her over in the far left corner of the room. She is so still that she could be another piece of furniture. In the dull light I can only see her outline- her silver bobbed hair, a frayed and threadbare sweater that I am sure is pink, withered and spindly hands extending downward from the sleeves at her sides. I can't see her feet, even as I squint. She is standing erect, without any of the natural little involuntary muscle movements or tiny pulsations one who has a beating heart experiences. I feel it in my soul that she is starting forward even as she stands perfectly still. I let my eyes look away for one second, just to ensure that I am the only person in this room. When I return my gaze I can see by the outline of her head that her mouth is agape...much wider than anyone should be able to lower their jaw. What purpose can this serve? She can make no noise.

I back out. I always back out at this point and I have to do it slowly so as not to trip and cause my eyes to be removed from her form. I must always keep my eyes on her. I walk backward through this parlor, my hands fanned and moving about so that I am not surprised by anything. I don't even turn around when I get to the old door- I heave my back against it while I keep my head turned to the left- she's still in the corner. Again I'm out on the beach, among the dry grasses and chilled sand.

Listen. Close your eyes, see the house. Take my place.

[vngelgyu]

were you drawing me?

☆ pairing - gn!reader x stranger!yunho

☆ warnings - none

☆ word count - 0.6k

☆ genre - fluff, strangers to acquaintances? friends? idk

☆ authors notes - i dont think anyone will recognize this but i sent it to @/yunhoflrtz on my main account, im just reposting it now that i have an actual writing blog. lowercase is intentional

☆ description - reader crushes on Yunho from afar until one day they finally meet. this is based off of a promt i saw.. "were you drawing me?"

in the midst of people walking around, and kids playing, was you, sitting cross legged on your baby blue gingham picnic blanket, with your sketchbook on your lap and pencil in hand, taking in your surroundings.

this is something you did every saturday for the last 2 months. you would sit at the park that you accidentally came across on a walk one evening. you would eat snacks, listen to music, and draw the environment around you, from the children playing to the blades of grass. it was a great way to relax after a long week of work and you always looked forward to it.

but the reason you looked forward to it wasn't because of the scenery, it was because there was a tall boy with brown hair that draped over his forehead that seemed to be there whenever you were. he was always there with a group of other boys and they would play with soccer balls, frisbees, and sometimes even play fight in the grass. but among the group of boys, there was something about him specifically, that seemed so ethereal. his smile was as bright and warm as the sun that shone down on you through the branches of the low hanging trees that surrounded you.

normally you would sketch pictures of the people, trees, or the dandelions and daisies in the grass but the last few times, you found yourself sketching the un-named boy. although you could never seem to get the drawings just right, your sketchbook slowly filled with him over time. capturing the bright energy that exuded from him had deemed itself difficult.

you gazed at him from afar, trying to get a good look at the downward slope of his nose before looking down at your page and drawing it to the best of your ability. zoned out with your earbuds in, you didn't notice when an orange frisbee landed next to you in the grass.

you felt a tap on your shoulder and removed your earbuds. looking up, you realized it was the boy that you had spent so much time drawing. internally panicking, you quickly shut the sketchbook but it was too late, he had already seen it. in fact, he had thrown the frisbee back to his friends and stood there, watching the way your pencil moved over the paper, but you unaware of that.

"were you drawing me?" he asked you with a warm smile on his face. instead of responding, you just looked at him, eyes wide. you had never imagined that you would have the opportunity to speak to him and how you were sitting here at a loss for words.

snapping out of your thoughts, you looked down and opened the sketchbook back to the page you were previously drawing on and said "I was, im sorry if that's weird".

the boy chuckled, crouching down to get a good look at the picture and said "it looks a lot like me, you're really good at drawing"

"thank you" you responded, turning to look at him. his face was a few inches away from yours and the close proximity made you realize how pretty his eyes were. they were a beautiful dark brown and honestly, you could look at them all day.

"can I see your pencil for a second?" he asked you, holding his hand out.

you handed it to him and he carefully grabbed your sketchbook before writing something in the bottom left corner.

once he was finished, he handed the book and pencil back to you and stood up. "I have to go now but I'll talk to you later"

while watching him run back to his friends, you tried to figure out what he meant but you quickly understood once you finally looked down at the page. you read what he wrote with a smile and put your earbuds back in. you could feel your heart beating quickly as you went back to drawing him, this time, drawing his eyes while the image was still fresh in your mind.

"my name is Yunho and I'd love to see the drawing when it's finished, here's my number"

[hogwartsfirebolt]

Written for @drarrymicrofic prompt "Thought."

“I thought about it.”

It’s the first in a long string of comments that awards him a look, a split-second rise of one of Harry’s dark eyebrows before he looks away again. The walls of the alleyway beat like a heart, pumping with the music and mayhem of the two nightclubs between which it’s nestled. After a final hollowing of his cheeks, Harry flicks the tail of his cigarette to the ground and pushes away from the wall, shoulders rolling out of their slouch with ease.

Draco followed him out here. Harry looks uninterested again, already.

“Mmm?” Harry asks, non-committal, searching the sides of his leather jacket with a downward look. The sparse lighting of the lone bulb turns his profile into a blurred, elusive image — his stubbled jaw, the slope of his nose. Known, every inch. Draco’s heart jams itself into his throat.

“I thought about it,” he says once again, because he knows Harry heard him, and wants a real answer.

“I know you did,” Harry replies as he digs his cigarettes out of his pocket again, taps the bottom of the box and drags one out with his mouth. He lights it with the flick of a hand, the burning ash at the tip lighting his face for a split second before he pulls it out with two fingers and blows the smoke right into Draco’s face. His fists curl with the effort not to cough, but he doesn’t step away. The edge of Harry’s lips turns up. “Man, do I know.”

“I want to, again.”

Harry’s smile extends, reveals a row of white teeth. Draco’s chest burns with terror. With longing.

“You said that was the last time,” Harry says, amusement rolling off his tongue like a secret, an added layer to the depth of his voice that makes Draco certain he’s being laughed at. He’s weathered worse for this. He’s willing to do so again.

“And I’m saying this now.” He braves a step forward. Harry doesn’t step back, doesn’t even blink, wide green eyes not straying from Draco’s. He can feel his own breath coming shorter, has to dig his nails into the palm of his hand to ground himself. “You know that I want.”

“And we agreed you knew better. I see that’s stopped being true.” He brings the cigarette back between his lips. Draco leans forward for the smoke, and Harry huffs, the upturned corner of his lip twitching even further. “Look, kid …”

“Don’t call me kid.”

“You always did hate that.” He turns his head to the side to blow out the smoke, looks back at Draco. “I didn’t ask you to make me the one who says no.”

“So don’t be.”

Harry’s tongue clicks. “I won’t list off the reasons.”

Of the reasons why not, Draco knows all. He did list them, that once, as he regained his breath in the back of Harry’s car, as he watched him smoke, bare and uncaring, barely listening to Draco’s rambling.

“You don’t have to.”

“Are you begging?” Harry looks even more amused by the idea, but the smile falls off his face when Draco nods, willing to do anything, anything. “Go think about it some more. It won’t happen again.”

“I know why I said it wouldn’t,” Draco says. His voice, far firmer than he feels, echoes off the walls. “But why are you?”

Harry takes a drag of his cigarette, runs a hand through his tangled curls. The door to Draco’s left opens for a moment, an electronic song spilling into the alley, before it closes again. A drunk couple stumbles, opens the door to the next club and disappears into it.

“You tug at my sleeves,” Harry says at last, and Draco would have expected him to look away but he isn’t, he’s meeting Draco’s face head on, uncaring of the flush he’s causing in it. “You follow me around.” And, without an ounce of shame, “You want me too much. I like it. We shouldn’t.”

Shame curls at the pit of Draco’s stomach. He shuts his eyes, endures its tide, awaits its abating. Once it’s gone, he opens his eyes again. Nods.

“So I want you too much. Will you keep denying me what I want?”

Harry does laugh now, a full one, from the belly. Draco wants to feel it against his lips, taste it. Feels hazy with it. He reaches out, pulls on a lapel of the leather jacket, and Harry falls silent.

“I’m not staying,” he mutters around his cigarette. The bulb of the alley flickers, turns off for a moment, comes back on. Draco holds onto Harry’s jacket, eyes on the swell of his bottom lip, where the body of the cigarette rests. He nods.

“I know.”

“And you care about that. You’ll hurt.”

“That’s for me to worry about.”

Harry shakes his head. It doesn’t feel like a negative, more like a surrender. “No self-preservation.”

Draco shakes his head, too. “None at all.” He reaches for the cigarette, pulls it out of Harry’s mouth, and replaces it with his lips.

Thank you so so much @softlystarstruck for the swift, amazing beta ❤️

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 8. solo

Previous | Next

[warnings: underage drinking, smoking, weed, near death experience?, crying]

"never have i dealt with anything more difficult than my own soul." — You leave the roof late in the night. Sal had gotten up and retreated into his apartment a little while earlier—but you'd decided to stay and make sure he didn't come back there.

Three days pass. They all consist of fleeting glances and irresolute tension. Things remain the same with the group dynamic, except for between you and Sal. Neither of you seem to know how to continue from that conversation on the roof. No one else notices, though. They'd never suspected anything from the beginning, it seems.

The beginning of your involvement with Sal involved a little bit of buildup and then a snap which resulted in a sexual encounter (or two).

Now it was a bit different. Now things were a little less lighthearted.

It's a Saturday—you'd planned to spend it inside as usual. That's until your phone starts ringing.

You flip your phone open, read over the contact, and answer the call.

"Hi, Ash."

"Y/N," she starts. You hear the excitement to continue in her voice. "There's a party tonight."

"Oh?" You get up from your seat on your bed.

"Some stoner Larry has connections with invited him and said to bring friends. He wants to bring us—save for Todd. He doesn't do parties."

"Wait," your eyebrows furrow. "Me?"

"Yeah!" She says from the other end of the line. "It'll be fun. Cmon."

You bite your lip nervously, anxiety knotting in your stomach. "I don't know. I've never really.."

Ashley is momentarily silent on the other line. She must be contemplating what to say to convince you. "Sal's coming too. Parties aren't necessarily his thing, either—so maybe you guys could try it out together?"

You open your mouth and then promptly close it. Something inside of you suddenly really wanted to go to this party. "Um... alright. Okay."

"Cool! What're you gonna wear?"

You look toward the drawer that contained your clothes and bit your lip. "Not sure yet. I'll update you on that."

"Okay, don't forget to text me! See you at eight."

The call declined from the other line. The phone that held the phone to your ear slipped into your lap. You pressed your lips together and tried to ignore the familiar feeling of sickening nausea and anxiety.

You don't rush yourself on getting ready for the party, because the time you're due to be done won't be for a while.

You take your time with the hours you have. You shower, take your time on eyeliner, mascara, and lipgloss—and finally decide on what you'll wear.

You decide on a square neck white cropped tank with short sleeves and your nicest pair of light blue, slightly washed out jeans. You slid on your favorite, sort of chunky white sneakers over white socks.

It isn't long after you finish when Ashley calls and informs you she's arrived at the apartments and Larry and Sal have already joined her out in the car. You give yourself a once-over in the mirror and then leave the apartment.

Your mother was nowhere to be found. She's either at work or drinking with her coworkers.

Once you've opened the door and climbed into the Ford Fiesta, you immediately realize your predicament—Sal is the only person in the backseat with you.

The drive there is decently long and painfully tense. Neither you nor Sal know how to speak to each other, so no words are exchanged beneath the heavy metal music emitting from the radio.

When you finally arrive at the party, it's recognizably crowded, drunken teenagers are flowing from the front door, in and out, and there's a good amount on the lawn. The newest radio hit is playing on a considerably loud speaker, and the vibrations are notable even from a distance.

"Woah," Larry says, staring at the house as Ashley pulls onto the side of the road. "Didn't realize he was so popular."

You all exit the Ford Fiesta and cross the road. You cringe as you watch someone vomit onto the grass, and another person ripping from a bong in the wide open.

Smoke flies into your face and your eyes as you enter the home. You cough, waving a hand as you blindly follow after your friends.

Eventually, the four of you find yourself on two couches directly facing each other. You on one, Larry and Ashley on the other. Sal is stood to the side.

Larry materializes a bottle of Fireball that you guessed he stole from someone on the way in, opens the cap with his teeth, and takes several gulps.

"Where did you get that?" Ashley laughs over the music, pulling the sleeves of her lavender sweater over her hands.

"Stole it," he looks to Sal and directs the bottle toward him. "Want some?"

"Sure," Sal replies, to your surprise—taking it from Larry's grasp and walking away and in your direction.

"You're drinking that?" You ask him, testing the waters.

"No, actually," you watch Sal round to the other side of the couch to linger behind you. "I'm limiting him. He'll thank me later."

Once he's out of your field of vision, you tip your head back and gaze up at him—your perspective on him being upside down. Your gaze zeroes in on the bottle of Fireball he's clutching in his hand.

"Hey," you say, meeting his eyes. "Give me some."

It was time to give him that excuse—the excuse to break the ice.

He leans in a bit, gesturing toward you with the bottle. "You want it?"

A grin pulls at your glossed lips. Instead of reaching for the bottle, you open your mouth and tilt your chin up.

Sal looks on for a moment but laughs once he realizes what you want. Everyone else at the couches seem decently distracted with each other and the overall environment—so he doesn't seem to worry about it too much.

He reaches his hand around and towards your neck, gripping your jaw in his fingers and holding you firmly. You feel his cold rings press into your skin when he tips your head further back just a bit—and then steadily pours a shot-amount of Fireball into your mouth with his other hand.

Sal stops at the right time, looks on as you pull back and sit up, and cautiously watches the back of your head as you assumedly swallow the whisky. But when you turn a bit in your seat to peer at him over your shoulder, you're holding your mouth closed and pressing a closed fist to your lips while soundlessly giggling.

"What?" He laughs, a hand moving to the top of the couch. He leans in a bit. "Can you not swallow it?"

Your shoulders shake slightly as you continue to laugh. You shake your head up and down.

"Do you need to spit it out?" Sal asks, his tone warming into concern.

You shake your head from side to side. You meet his eyes and swallow, gasping as the liquid slides down your throat and burns all the way down. You cough, the flavor of cinnamon and what tasted like Big Red gum overloaded your senses.

"God," you breathe out, giggling all the while. The alcohol is gross but you're feeling good. "It's not great."

"Yeah, that's why I'm holding Larry off, so he won't be puking his guts out later."

You look up to the boy, who's sat on the arm of the couch opposite to you. He's busy talking to some equally stoned guy, so you can't manage to catch his eye—but you catch Ashley's.

She had this look of astonishment on her face.

Had she been watching what happened? When Sal poured Fireball in your mouth?

Your face grew hot thinking about it.

Sal wanders away from you again, and you find yourself drinking more than you should. Eventually, your rationality disappears.

It's been a few hours and Sal hasn't seen you for a while. So when he hears about a girl wearing a white crop top walking across the roof of the house, he feels like he's going to vomit.

It takes him a record time of 6 seconds to get out of the door and onto the lawn. Upon looking up at the roof, his suspicions are confirmed. He shoulders past multiple people to place himself near the front of the crowd and gazes up in horror.

"Sal!" You yell, gesturing toward him with something between a wave and a point. "I'd recognize that hair anywhere!"

Multiple heads within the crowd turn away from you and towards him. He puts aside his social anxiety and the wave of unease that washes over his body and tries to focus on you. "Please come down," he rushes out, raising his voice just enough for it to be audible over the crowd.

You laugh like he's told a hilarious joke and he quickly realizes his mistake. That's the worst thing he could've told your intoxicated self. You move toward the edge of the roof, shaky and uncoordinated. "You want me to jump?"

"No!" He exclaims, his hands flying up, fingers splayed. "No. Don't do that!"

"Holy shit!" He hears Larry shout from somewhere closer to the front door of the house. Sal guesses he's just now catching wind of the current situation. Moments after, both of his brunette friends are at his side.

"What the hell is going on?!" Ashley yells, verdant eyes glued to the sight before them.

You lost your balance once again, but this time a bit worse—your foot catching on a shingle on the roof and effectively knocking the red solo cup out of your hand. It dropped onto the downward slope of the roof and the liquor inside of it spilled down the side.

Whenever Sal witnessed the toe of your white sneaker catch onto that shingle, he felt as though his very soul had been ripped from his body. Immediately after he watched you regain your footing and stable yourself, though—his heartbeat calmed to a steadier pace.

"I'm going up there," he stated beneath the chatter.

Both Ashley and Larry's heads whipped toward him.

"You'll kill yourself!" Larry exclaims incredulously. Ashley opens her mouth to assumedly second Larry's statement, but Sal cuts her off by walking away.

"Not before she does," he mutters, pushing his way through the density of bodies and forcing his way through the front door. His senses are disoriented like he's been submerged beneath water as the volume of the music scratched at his eardrums and pulsed the innards of his skull. Adrenaline courses through his blood like a drug whilst he shoulders past both mindlessly drunk and carelessly high teenagers.

Sal doesn't spare them a second glance, but their unconcern does remain in his mind. The fact that they're continuing their lives while he feels as though something that's growing into something of importance in his is about to be taken from him... it's mind-numbing.

He's never been an optimistic person, he's always tried to view things in the way they're most likely to happen—and all that's beneath that two-story house is a long drop and concrete. If you fall, you'll break your head open and you'll die.

He finally makes it to the stairs. He makes a break for it then, tripping over his own feet multiple times. Anything could happen in this amount of time, and he knew no one else was going to help him.

Sal's thoughts grow more and more disordered as he navigates the dark halls of the house. The music seems to have only grown louder, the deafening mixture of guitar and drums taunting him.

He remembers the window on the outside of the house. Sal estimates which room it would be, locates it, and approaches the door. He turns the knob, but it doesn't fully rotate.

The door is locked from the inside. Of course. Who would have a party and leave the bedroom unlocked so people could fuck all over your comforter?

He bites out a curse only he hears and prepares himself to force the door open.

Sal grabs the doorknob tightly, prepares himself, and rams the side of his body into the wood. He doesn't even feel the pain, just does it again, and again.

He goes until that half of his body is numb.

The door finally budges, and he wastes no time entering the room. He doesn't hesitate when he reaches the double-hung window he'd been seeking. He grips it at the bottom and pulls it up and open, clenching his teeth together painfully.

Sal stares out at the vastness of the night, the golden streetlights, and how they shine down on the crowd of people below him. They all seem to be looking at the same place, up, but not at him—and he can only swallow thickly.

Carefully, Sal moves to sit on the windowsill, gripping what was above him tightly, his legs outside. He then ducks to leave the room and shivers as cool air hits the front of his neck.

He starts walking the roof, steadily—like his life depends on it. Because.. it does.

Or yours. Yours depends on it.

"Y/N!" Sal calls as he finally reaches a point where you're in his line of sight. Momentarily, he's worried he'd scared you. But you turn your head, meet his eyes, and smile. Despite that, your face spells fear all over it. Something must have sobered you up a bit while he'd been inside.

"I'm going to come to you. Do not walk towards me!"

You blink lazily, because you were drunk, and nodded. You shivered, hugging yourself. It didn't seem to do much, though. Your arms were bare.

"Fuck," he breathes, gazing down at the fall that could await him if he misstepped and immediately reverted his gaze. Blood rushes between his ears as he steadily makes his way towards you.

"Please don't fall!" You suddenly exclaim, your hair tussling in the breeze. A strand blows over your face, so you quickly raise a hand to move it back in place.

He looks up from his feet and stares you in the eyes. "I won't," he affirms, you and himself, continuing across the roof. "Just stay put, okay?"

It doesn't take long to get over to you. He's mostly sober, so it isn't hard on that part. What's difficult is calming his steady heart.

He's not scared of falling. Not necessarily scared of injury or death. But he is scared of not making it to you.

Once he's at an arms reach of your shaking form, he reaches out a hand, palm facing the darkness of the sky.

You seem to read his mind, slowly grabbing his hand. Sal maneuvers your joint hands to where your palms press together and your fingers are interlaced. He doesn't know if it's the blood rushing through his ears or the distance from the ground, but it's as if everything below becomes very quiet.

You meet his gaze, your pretty eyes glossy with tears. The eyeliner you were wearing had just begun to collect beneath your lower lash line.

He squeezes your hand and leads you to be in front of him.

It's not long after that that he's gotten you off of the roof. Sal watches you slip through the open window before turning toward the density of people beneath him on the ground. He breathes in as he catches both Larry and Ashley's eyes—he can't read their expressions, but he wouldn't be surprised if there was shock written all over it—and then ducks back into the window.

As soon as the window is shut and it meets the windowsill once more, Sal whips his head toward you. "Y/N-"

Before he'd saw your face, and the language of your body as you were sat on the edge of the bed, he was going to scold you, and then go downstairs and find you some water and sober you up—all of that falls down the drain when he sees the stream of tears falling down your face. Every time you blink, more drop—quickly staining your cheeks with black makeup.

"Oh," he breathes, suddenly speechless. "Y/N-"

You attempt at taking a breath in, it seems—but it's a failure because it hitches and turns into a shoulder-shaking sob.

"I'm sorry," you cry, roughly dragging the tips of your fingers beneath your eyes. This only smears the running mascara further. "I'm just drunk."

Sal momentarily feels like breaking down in tears himself, that's how much this entire ordeal stressed him out. He approaches your trembling body and crouches down in front of you.

"Hey," he says, softly. "It doesn't matter whether or not you're intoxicated. Your feelings still matter, okay?"

You sniffle, still attempting to wipe your tears away, and reluctantly nod. "I'm sorry," you try again.

He places his hands on your knees and squeezes them firmly. "It's okay."

You jerk into a sob, leaning forward and pressing the side of your face on his shoulder. You slowly tuck your arms beneath his and cross them over the expanse of his back, palms flat on each shoulder blade. The convulsive gasps were hard to stop, making it hard to breathe.

Sal breathed out softly against the prosthetic, raising his arms and encasing them around your torso.

He didn't wonder about the reason for your tears. Assuming things wouldn't help you anymore.

"I don't know why I did that," you whisper, quieting yourself to swallow your saliva. "Maybe I do. I think I was trying to prove something to myself."

He finds himself holding you tighter, your chest pressed to his, feeling your heartbeat through the fabric that separated you both—oddly enough, even at this moment, it reminds him of that night in the car. You had been even closer to him then, though.

"It was stupid," you murmured. "Why would I do that, after what we had talked about last night?"

"What if we jumped together?" he remembers saying.

"Some things can't be explained," he replies earnestly. "You don't need to know why you did what you did. It was stupid, though. I'd probably walk across the roof of a two-story house for you again, but.."

You pull back and meet his eyes, your face wet. The majority of your makeup had been cried off and your lipgloss had been smudged.

You must've sensed his examination, breaking the visual contact and sniffling. "I know I look ridiculous right now."

Sal smiles. He knows she can't see it, but maybe she'll hear it. "I don't think so," he murmurs, looking off to the side. "I think that's a bathroom. You can clean up in there if you want."

You follow his gaze and then return your eyes to his and laugh a bit. You still sound drunk, he notes. Obviously. He'd poured a good amount of Fireball into your mouth and watched you drink plenty of other things.

"Feels kinda weird using a stranger's bathroom," you laugh, your breath hitching from the earlier crying.

Sal rolls his eyes humorously, gripping your knees tighter as he pulls himself off of the floor. "The guy who lives here is Larry's friend—and a stoner. I doubt he'd mind. And if he does get mad, I'll take responsibility for it. I forced that door through, anyway.."

Your gaze swivels toward the door, which is not shut but mostly closed. When he glances to where you're looking, he notices it seems a bit.. crooked.

He inwardly cringes. "I'll pay for it. Come on."

Sal follows you into the bathroom. You seem reluctant to enter first, so he does, opening the door and reaching to the side to turn the lights on. They do what they're supposed to—eventually. They're momentarily unresponsive before becoming alive—the illumination brightening the room with a dull yellow hue.

You step onto the tile and began to search for whatever it was you needed. You kneeled at one of the cabinets below the sink, opened it, and ducked your head lower.

"Oh!" You exclaim quietly, reaching in and pulling out two things. A bottle of half-empty makeup remover and a bag of some cotton rounds.

"Maybe he has a girlfriend?" He hears you say to yourself, standing up, nudging the cabinet closed with your foot, and placing the things you found beside the sink.

Sal reaches over and closes the door. He'd rather not have to witness the sight of some drunkards wandering in and fooling around on the bed.

"Lock it," you say. "I'd rather no one- no one see me like this."

His hand was already on the doorknob, so he just reaches down a bit and locks the door.

He watches you struggle a bit with the bag of cotton rounds, trying but failing to open it, so he reaches forward and delicately plucks it out of your grasp.

Sal slides the makeup remover over and pats the place on the counter it was previously. "Sit."

You peer into his eyes inquisitively but waste no time hoisting yourself up and onto the cold surface.

After that, he plucks the bottle of makeup remover off of the counter and douses the cotton round in the liquid. He reaches forward from the distance that your knees created between the both of you, but you spread your thighs and press the heel of your shoe into his lower back, pulling him in so he's between your legs.

Sal doesn't see it suggestively, because you're drunk—but he's glad you asked him to lock the door because, with his luck, Larry or Ashley would find their way into the bathroom and get all of the wrong ideas.

The firmness just beneath his navel presses into the edge of the counter as he cups one side of your face and began wiping away at the eyeliner and mascara and everything it messed up.

"Thank you," you say sweetly, blinking at him with appreciation in your eyes. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

He remembers a silhouette. Her back was turned to him, golden hair cascading just past her shoulder blades. He remembers blue eyes that looked a lot like his own staring into a mirror, a hand which adorned a wedding ring wiping away makeup from the day.

"Read it on the label of the bottle," he replies, meeting your eyes and looking away.

As he's finishing up, he hears a rapping of knuckles against the locked door. He tosses the used cotton rounds into a trash bin in the corner and then locks eyes with you curiously.

"Occupied," he calls out, still looking at you. The knocking only gets louder, which makes you laugh.

"He said it's occupied!" You yell over the unintelligible music downstairs, your words breaking into a giggle. You press your knees against his waist, and he doesn't even realize it when his hands meet your thighs.

The knocking ceases, fading into a voice. "Is that you guys in there?"

Fucking Larry. Speak of the goddamn devil—that's what he would've said if he'd come knocking sooner.

The both of you seem to be thinking the same thing, locking eyes in terror. You quickly get off of the counter, and Sal unlocks the door and swings it open.

Sure enough, he's standing there—in all of his glory and highness. Larry blinks, the whites of his glossy eyes tinted red. He looks between the both of you before speaking. "Why were.."

"I had to pee," You choose to deadpan.

Sal feels himself grow even paler than he already is. "I came in.. after.. that."

Larry intakes a mouthful of whatever is in the red solo cup he's holding in his tan, lanky fingers, and swallows thickly. "Okay," he croaks, instinctively cringing as the alcohol passed through his chest. He gestured the cup toward you. "Uh..crazy stunt you pulled up there, huh?"

Sal saw your face shift in his peripheral vision. "Huge lapse of judgment," you reply.

"Nobody could tell who you were, so don't worry about that," the brunette smiles a bit. He returns his attention to Sal. "They've started playing country," sure enough, Sal hears the sound of a banjo from the speakers downstairs, effectively punctuating Larry's statement.

"Yeah.." Larry mumbles, sipping his drink and looking up and through his eyebrows. "Ash said to come find you guys so we can leave."

It doesn't take much, after that.

As you're leaving, Larry pulls the door open and furrows his brow at the condition of the hinges. "Wow. How old is this thing?" He mumbles.

Sal hears you snort.

The three of you descend the stairs, skirting past countless teenagers standing on the steps drinking or smoking. Sal makes the mistake of letting you fall behind and feels you stumble and smack him in the back. It's easy to steady himself, quickly gripping the railing—but he's concerned about you, so he turns around.

A guy with a cigarette balancing in his teeth is eying you with frustration pulling at his features. His gaze pulls from your face and down your body absentmindedly.

"Watch it," he murmurs.

"Sorry," you breathe, jerking your head away and meeting Sal's eyes worriedly. Keep walking, you express in the hues of your eyes.

Sal reaches forward and interlaces your fingers with his as he'd done on the roof. He makes a show of it, too—so the guy with the cigarette sees the rings on both of his hands. Sal gives him a distinct look when they lock eyes, rolls his jaw, and lets you lead him down the stairs, instead of the other way around.

By the time you're all nearly shot from weaving through the multitude of sweaty bodies and navigating through plumes of smoke thicker than fog, the three of you find Ashley petting what he'd assume is the host's dog.

No one questions it.

"You good to drive?" Larry asks, placing his cup on a nearby surface.

"Oh, yeah," she rises from her crouch beside the dog. The animal walks away, his golden tail wagging excitedly at the next person who would give him pets. "A gross sip of something put me off of drinking tonight a while earlier. And, uh.. the whole roof thing dried me out."

You sigh. "I'm sorry about that. It sobered me up, too."

She shakes her head, a wispy strand of light brown hair falling over her face. "It was stupid, yes, and I hope you don't do it again, but all that matters now is that you're safe."

Ashley blinks kind green eyes at you and smiles, reaching forward, taking your hand, and leading you away. Sal hears you laugh and follow after her as both of you head for the front door.

He turns to look at Larry once he loses sight of both of you in the crowd. He examines Sal with bleary dark eyes and looks as though he's about to say something, but he doesn't get to.

Even over the blaring country music, Sal hears a yell and then some fearful shouting. He whips around toward the sounds, which were toward the front of the house.

Red and blue flashing lights shine through the windows.

"Shit!"

"Ah, fuck," Larry groaned, nimbly wrapping his fingers around Sal's wrist and dragging him into the density of the panicked crowd. "Did you see where they went?"

Sal shakes his head. "No," he knows you're intoxicated. Panic settles in. He chews his lip, his eyes desperately scamming for a girl wearing a white top squared at the neck—you. "Y/N's had a lot to drink, Larry. If the police-"

"Don't worry about the Five-O, let's worry about the girls," Larry replies absentmindedly, keeping his firm hold on Sal.

"They must've gone to the Ford," Sal shouts over the music, which, for some reason, is still playing. "We were leaving anyway. I'm sure they're in the car."

Larry releases Sal and motions toward the back of the house. "There's a back door. I'll text Ashley and tell her to drive down the block and we can meet them on foot."

It was an agreeable plan. Waltzing out of the house and walking straight up to the car wouldn't be wise.

Larry does what he'd said he'd do. Turns out, Sal was right, they had made it to the car moments before the police had rolled up. Ashley informed him it was two squad cars and four officers. Seemed like overkill for a house party—but he wouldn't know. He didn't do this often.

When Larry was on the phone, Sal was very tempted to ask about Y/N, but refrained.

On the way to the back door, they crossed through the kitchen. Larry snatched an unopened bottle of alcohol of a brand Sal didn't recognize and carried it along with him for the road.

As soon as they made it out of the house, they both made a break for it, running between houses and into multiple different backyards on their way.

They slowed down once they were at a measurable distance from the party, gasping for air. Sal panted against the prosthetic, placing his hands on his knees and slowing his gasps into slow breaths, attempting to calm his racing heart.

They stood on the side of the road, the music in the distance (albeit a lot quieter) still pounding into the night.

Sal lowered himself down onto the curb. Larry joined him, raising the bottle he'd chose to bring with him to his mouth, and opened the steel cap with his teeth. He spits it onto the road and gestures it toward Sal.

"Bottoms up," he said, bringing it to his lips and taking several gulps.

Sal rolled his eyes playfully, eyebrows rising as Ashley's Ford Fiesta cruised down the road and slowed to a stop in front of them. He stood up from the curb and pulled Larry off of it as well.

They entered the car, sliding into the backseat. Larry continued to down the beer he'd found as Ashley turned around in her seat.

"The night's still young," she says. "Any ideas of what we could do?"

It's really not. Sal's a bit disoriented so he doesn't know what time it is but he wouldn't be surprised if it was 3 AM.

You then turn around in the passenger seat and grin mischievously. "Let's go to the lake."

Oh, great.

[kevindayisafrog]

Part 7 of the Kevaaron thing

TW - homophobic slur towards the end

Kevin’s days merged together in a slow downward slope of practice, sleep and lessons. His grades slipped slightly as he couldn’t procure enough energy to pick up a pen, let alone write thousand word essays and extra notes on top. At practice the Foxes resented him more as his fraying anger caused him to snap easier and cause more fights than usual. Wymack tried to bench him for a week but got tired of Kevin’s complaints and decided to let him back on court to annoy the Foxes instead. All he wanted to do was sit alone in his room so could process his thoughts, but Andrew kept a closer eye on him so he couldn’t even go to the bathroom without questions being asked. He couldn’t breathe in the suffocated dorm and the pounding noise of the court made it worse. And on top of all this the press and Raven fans dragged Kevin and Jean ruthlessly, blaming Riko’s death on them and calling them all the names under the sun. But he couldn’t complain, the Foxes’ sympathy could only stretch so far; and that ran out after one of last week’s practices ended with Kevin and Matt ripping each other into pieces.

Kevin looked out the window of the car as Andrew speeded towards Columbia with the sweet taste of Eden’s on his mind. The car radio hummed in the background as Nicky filled them all in on the latest campus gossip, but Kevin couldn’t care less. He tapped his fingers against his thighs as they turned off the highway and towards the exit for Columbia. Kevin itched to get out of the cramped car and drown himself in the strongest drink that Eden’s could provide. Andrew pulled up outside Sweetie’s and Kevin practically fell out of the car to escape the closeness of the others. “Embarrassed to be seen with us, Kev?” Nicky got out of the car and flung an arm around Kevin’s shoulders as they made their way into the ice cream bar. Kevin tried to shake Nicky’s arm off but couldn’t manage to stop Nicky’s iron grip from squeezing his arms. “Let’s get the table in the corner”, Andrew led the group to the table and shot Nicky a death glare until he dropped his arm from Kevin’s shoulder. “What? You’ve got Neil, you can’t be too greedy”, he winked at Kevin before sliding next to Aaron on the pink leather booth. Kevin looked from pair to pair and decided that sitting with Andrew and Neil might be more comfortable than having Nicky’s hands brushing his under the table. “Yay, I get to see your face better”, Nicky smiled at Kevin before grabbing napkins and idly spinning them in a lazy circle. “Hi, what can I get you today?” a short black haired waiter approached the table with menus but Andrew waved him off and ordered their ice cream without looking at the man. “You don’t have to always be a dick”, Aaron muttered as the waiter left the table to fetch their orders. “I’m not looking for charity points”, Andrew lifted one leg onto the seat and rested his chin on it as he watched the other diners. Kevin watched him for a while before reaching over and snatching the napkins from Nicky, “can you stop fucking doing that. It’s annoying”. Nicky rolled his eyes and turned to face deadpan Aaron with a smile. “Am i the only happy one here?” he looked around at the stone faced monsters and laughed as Kevin threw the napkins at him. “Behave”, Aaron growled as the waiter returned with three sundaes. “I’ll just get the other two for you”, he smiled at them before turning and leaving for the kitchen. “I’m not really hungry”, Kevin muttered as he stared down at his ice cream with a sick feeling slowly crawling up his throat. “You can’t get drunk on an empty stomach, so if you’re planning to drink away your sorrows I’d advise you to shut up and eat”, Andrew waved his spoon in Kevin’s face before turning back to his own sundae and taking small bites. “Here you go, enjoy”, the waiter slid the last two sundaes to Aaron and Nicky and quickly left the table again. Kevin watched the others eat and felt as if he would pass out from the sight of the sugary food. “I will fucking force feed you”, Andrew turned slightly in his seat and picked up Kevin’s spoon as a warning. “Fine”, he snatched the spoon back and swallowed down a lump in his throat as he scooped up the ice cream. They all ate in silence until the last person, Neil, finished eating before Andrew shoved Kevin off the seat to leave the diner. Kevin waited for Neil to slide out before following the two out into the dark street.

Aaron watched blearily as Kevin knocked back drink after drink without a thought. He never cared much for Kevin’s well-being before, but he felt somewhat responsible now that Kevin had no one else to lean on. “Heya, Kev”, he grabbed Kevin’s wrist before he could drink and pulled it away, “wanna dance?” Kevin looked at him blankly as Aaron slid off his seat with a stumble and smiled at him with a lopsided grin. “Come on, chicken”, he let Kevin set his drink down before pulling him towards the dance floor by the wrist. “I don’t dance”, Kevin stood in the middle of the dance floor blushing as people moved all around him. “Come on, let loose”, Aaron grabbed Kevin’s other wrist and pulled him closer. “Just let loose”, he repeated as Kevin stood stiffly with darting eyes. “I might go back up to Andrew”, Kevin made a move to leave but Aaron pulled him down to his level. “Don’t leave me, I’ll teach you”, he pushed Kevin back up straight and started to slowly dance with a pleased smile. “I don’t think so”, Kevin let a rare smile creep across his lips as the pint sized boy opposite seemed to ‘let loose’. Aaron rolled his eyes and placed his hands on Kevin’s hips to move them side to side. “Why not? It’s fun”, he blinked up at Kevin’s swaying frame. “People will laugh”, Kevin’s smile faded as he looked at the dancers around him. “Who will laugh?” Aaron watched as Nicky made his way down the steps. “Everyone, they’re staring”, Kevin took a step back and knocked into a drunk girl who wolf whistled at him. “Sorry”, he whispered and stepped towards Aaron again. “Everyone’s drunk, dipshit, they won’t remember. Live a little”, Aaron started swaying to the music and smiled as Kevin shifted on his feet and began to slowly sway with him. “There you go”, he laughed and standed on his toes to place his stretched arms on Kevin’s shoulders, “loosen them shoulders, you giant”. They both laughed as Kevin slowly caved in and went for it. “Nice hip movement”, Nicky stumbled over and slapped Kevin’s ass, “I like what I see”. Aaron rolled his eyes and pulled Kevin closer. “He’s mine for the night, go find someone else”, Nicky stared blankly between Kevin and Aaron before nodding with wide eyes and moving away. “Someone needs to teach him boundaries”, Kevin spoke quietly so Aaron had to ask him to repeat it. Kevin laughed and leant down to speak in Aaron’s ear, “someone needs to teach him boundaries”, Aaron nodded and blushed at Kevin’s body so close to his. He tried to step back without making it obvious and stood on a woman’s foot. “Watch it, schoolboy”, she shouted at him as her boyfriend stood between Aaron and her. “Get your own girl, dwarf”, he sneered down at Aaron how raised his fist. “Or fucking what?” Kevin grabbed Aaron’s fist and pushed him behind him. “Are you standing up for that child?” The man glared Kevin up and down before laughing in scorn. “Oh, I see, you’re fag-“, Kevin didn’t let the man finish before punching him square in the face. The girl shrieked and leapt down to aid her battered boyfriend as Kevin pulled Aaron away by the hand.

“I’m sorry”, he shouted over the music once they were back up with the others at the table. “Sorry for what?”, Andrew leaned over the table to inspect Kevin’s cut hand. “Oh, Kevvie, violence is never the answer”, he leaned back in his seat and shook his head sarcastically. “Piss off, hypocrite”, Aaron glared at Andrew before turning back to Kevin’s slumped demeanor. “I could’ve handled it myself, you didn’t need to do that”. Kevin nodded quietly before whispering. “I’m sorry”. Aaron rolled his eyes and left the table to get ice. When he reached the bar he stared at the mirror on the wall and watched Kevin reach for another drink. “For fuck’s sake”, he bit his lip as Roland walked over with a smile. “Just ice, thanks”, he watched as Roland scooped ice into a rag and tied it up. “Andrew got in another fight?” he handed the ice to Aaron with a worried expression. “No, Kevin this time”, Roland nodded quietly as Aaron left without another word. “Use this you big baby”, he pressed the ice onto Kevin’s knuckle and took the drink from his other hand. “I was drinking that”, Kevin scowled at Aaron who knocked back the drink himself and placed it back on the tray. “I don’t care, you’ve had enough to last a lifetime”, he looked at Kevin’s confused glare and pressed the ice harder to make him wince. “I’m not having this conversation, not now”, he looked away to watch Nicky make a fool of himself on the dance floor and Aaron felt a heavy pull in his chest. He knew too well about addiction denial and knew what Kevin was thinking. “Well, we’ll talk about it later”, he let go of the ice and looked down at his thighs as Kevin grunted in reply.