#i’m remembering how much i cringed at his corny pick up lines the first time i played

[bhaalbabe]

can i just say that i’m somewhat a fake astarion girlie bc i really didn’t like his romance in act 1 but i put up with it bc i knew that i would enjoy his romance more once he started being genuine with the pc

[vantegcfilms]

GRAVITY

Starring | Taehyung x Reader

AU/Genre | ceo!au, sugarmommy!au, sugarbaby!au, fluff, smut, pwp

Word Count | 3.8k

Synopsis | Being the CEO of a huge company at the young age of twenty-five was a feat in itself. If you’re not careful, you can float away and lose yourself. Luckily you have someone who you gravitate to and they keep you anchored. 

Warnings/Tags | ceo!reader, sugarmommy!reader, sugarbaby!Taehyung, dom!reader, sub!Taehyung, femdom, mommy kink, blindfolds, hand confinement, wax play, toys, handjob, edging, orgasm denial, ass play, prostate milking, cum eating, really bad attempt at smut

A/N | This is my first ever smut so I hope you don’t cringe too much reading it. I’ve also never written with sub or kinky themes before so I hope I haven’t portrayed it wrong.

This chapter was edited on 04/01/19.

Gravity was originally a series but was changed to a oneshot because of the lack of inspiration.

“We just need you to sign at the bottom of this contract and the plan will go into full development.”

You looked through the contract and the dotted line at the bottom, your fountain pen hovered over it. With confidence, you put ink down onto the paper before dating it and closing it with a sharp snap.

“We look forward to working with you in the future, Miss Y/L/N.” The man sat across you stretched out his huge hands to yours, where you met in the middle and gave him a firm shake.

“Thank you for choosing Y/L/N Corporations. We definitely won’t disappoint you.” You let a smile light up your face before getting up from your seat. Your butt was numb from sitting for too long, the discussion dragged longer than you expected. This was it. You had successfully signed a contract with a huge conglomerate for a new hotel development. Being the CEO of a huge, multibusiness conglomerate at the mere age of twenty-five wasn’t easy. There was no chance for you to give any say in the decision that your father made for you when you were in high school. The fact that you were the eldest daughter, in a family with no sons, automatically pushed that responsibility onto you. With the contract signed, both sides were happy about the result. Taking your chance to bring the meeting to an end, which should’ve happened a few hours ago, you patted down your royal blue pencil skirt before exchanging bows to the man across you.

Taking long strides you walked towards the exit of the lounge, heels clicking against the marble floor. “Do I have anything else on my schedule, Secretary Shin?”

“No, that is all for today, Miss Y/L/N.” The voice came from behind you as she followed you to the exit, holding the door for you.

A satisfied smile crept up, hearing the response. “You may go rest now, I’ll drive myself home.”

“Are you sure, Miss Y/L/N? I’ll drive you back.” She stubbornly suggested.

A tired sigh came from you, “I’m sure, go and rest.” You were determined to get back to your penthouse as soon as possible, and that wouldn’t be possible with your secretary around. Sure she was very reliable, however she drove like a snail and was overly cautious, given her older age. Your secretary followed you up to your car before standing there, thinking for a moment. She eventually gave in, given how tired she also was from the meeting.

As soon as you sat down and clicked your seatbelt, you heard your phone go off in your bag. You took it out and the screen lit up.

[17:43] Babyboy: When are you coming back? I miss you sooooo much :(

The text automatically played in your head with his baritone voice, which elicited a joyful smile from your lips. Quickly, you sent a reply to let him know you were on your way back. You knew how needy he was, and it wasn’t fair that you promised him to be back by three but that obviously didn’t happen, Without the chance to lock your phone, three grey dots appeared on the screen.

[17:45] Babyboy: Drive safely! See you soon <3

With a soft sigh, you put your phone back in your bag before starting the engine. It roared loudly to life as you took off, startling some people on the street. If you weren’t the person who you were, you probably wouldn’t be driving so recklessly like a madman. But with money came power, and you definitely abused both to get what you wanted. It wasn’t long until you got back to your place with the speed you were driving at. Although your baby boy had told you to drive safely, you knew what you were doing, after all those high performance driving lessons in Dubai did help. Your apartment complex was soon in sight, a man stood at the pavement waiting. When you got out of your car, you handed your car keys to him, the valet, before heading towards the doors. The building was impressive, a tall skyscraper with lights that shone on it as if it were an artefact in a museum. The doorman of your apartment complex bowed and opened the door as soon as you were in sight, sauntering into the colossal lobby with concierge. The ride in the elevator felt longer than usual, maybe because today was a long day and you were missing your baby boy. As the elevator took it’s time going up to the 62nd floor, which was the top, you remembered events of today at work. The usual greetings from employees, paperwork in your office, a visit to your father’s office for lunch, or rather a small business meeting, and the signing of the contract with Hyundai. It was suffocating, the way you had to behave around businessmen and workers. Your penthouse was a place where you could relax and take off that disgusting facade. In comparison to what the media says about your sophisticated lifestyle, you really would just like to watch trashy TV mindlessly in your pyjamas and binge eat. “Floor 62, the doors are opening.” The elevators cold robotic voice broke you from your thoughts, doors opening to reveal a corridor with only one door. The corridor was decorated with shiny white marble floors, minimalistic pots of plants on the side. You stopped in front of your door, entering the passcode before hearing a series of beeps, the latch unlocking and the door sprung open. The waft of bergamot, acai berries and amber came to your nose as you felt the warmth wrap around you, welcoming you back. Stepping inside, you stopped to take off your Valentino heels, putting them neatly next to a pair of Gucci leather loafers.

“I’m home, Taehyung.” You called out to the spacious penthouse, which was huge and clearly too big for you, it always gave you a sense of loneliness. Walking past the open kitchen which looked like it just came out of a interior catalogue, you reached the living room. What greeted you was the night lights of Seoul through the huge glass windows which were ceiling to floor height. The view here was beautiful, every night you could look out into the city and admire the sight, however you knew there was a better sight in your penthouse. Even though you call this place home, it never felt lived in to you. It always looked like it came out of an interior catalogue,  the interior is minimalistic and expensive to your taste. However that didn’t matter. It was because of who lived here with you in secrecy. He made you feel like you were truly at home.

After not seeing a sign of him, you walked towards the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. It was strangely quiet and Taehyung didn’t reply to you. Usually he would pounce on you as soon as you got home, but he was nowhere to be seen. Guessing that he was in the master bedroom, you walked towards the room whilst sipping on water.

“Welcome home, mommy.” Taehyung greeted you only clad in his boxers on the bed with Baobab candles lit around it. What an expensive babe. One candle would cost £92 already, and he had several. Of course he’d know how to spend your money.

Suddenly the water went down the wrong pipe and you choked, patting your chest violently. Taehyung immediately shot up from where he was sat to rush to your side and help you. Sure you were used to seeing him in his boxers, but you didn’t expect this as soon as you got home. It was like some corny rom-com movie.

“I’m sorry mommy, did I surprise you?” He rubbed your back gently, trying to comfort you.

Looking up to Taehyung’s little pouty face, “It’s okay baby boy, mommy’s okay. I just didn’t expect this when I got home.”, you stroked his cheek with your thumb before putting your bottle on the nightstand.

“You seemed to be having a rough day from your texts, so I thought I would be a good boy and wait for you.”

Awww, could you ever ask for a sweeter angel than him? “You’re such a good boy you know that? Mommy needs to spoil you.”

His eyes lit up with your praise with the mention of spoiling him. He always got so excited when you say you would spoil him, because that either would be buying him expensive gifts or giving him the play time that he wanted. Now, if you didn’t find him that night at the art exhibition, what would he be doing now? Pleased with his reaction, you ran your hands along his biceps before pushing him gently onto the king sized bed.

“Be a good boy and wait for me, okay?”

He nodded back eagerly and sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with intent as you walked towards the open closet, his favourite place. After all, the closet had his treasured collection of design brand clothes you would spoil him with, and not to mention, his toys. You clicked a passcode into the drawer which opened slowly, revealing the daring contents. Blindfolds, restraints, clamps, collars, toys, you had it all. Who would’ve known that the pristine CEO of Lee Corporations would have such items in her closet. Scanning through the vast amount of items you had, you picked up a silk blindfold and ribbon, along with a pink toy. Taking your time, you walked back to the bed with the toys behind your hand, purposely hiding it from the small puppy waiting for you. You saw his nervousness in his eyes and the huge gulp he took. He wasn’t scared or anything, he was just excited and nervous for which toy you would bring out this time. It was always a surprise for him and that made his erection in his boxer harder as it twitched.

“Go sit in the middle of the bed sweetheart.” Your voice came out more eager than you wanted it to sound.

Being the good boy he was, he did as he was told immediately, trembling with excitement and arousal. You dipped your knee onto the bed and got closer to him as you put the toys on the side, which grabbed his attention immediately. He felt a shiver of pleasure up his spine once he laid his eyes on the toys. You took the black silk blindfold and put it over his doe and innocent eyes, his breath hitched as you did. His other senses immediately heightened at the lack of vision.

“Put your hands together towards me baby.” You commanded him as you reached for the silk tie. He followed your instructions, putting his hands together, waiting for you patiently. You wrapped it around his wrists, tightening it, which generated a whimper from him. Beginning to tease him, you traced your long cold fingers against his chest down to his stomach before stopped right above his throbbing cock. He whined at the loss of contact when you let go.

“M-mommy please touch me.” He begged, squirming under you.

God, he was so fucking beautiful like this.

“Shhh baby boy, be good and wait patiently.”

He pursed his lips together, obeying you whilst he waited what seemed like eternity. You got off the bed and reached down to pick up one of the candles before you returned to him.

“Remember your safeword, baby boy?”

“Gucci.”

“Good boy. I’m going to drip the candle wax on you okay? Remember to tell me if you can’t handle it.”

With the thought of the hot sensation that would touch his skin, he shivered with excitement and impatience before nodding eagerly. “Yes mommy.” You took that as a sign and slowly tipped the candle on its side, letting the wax slowly drip. The sudden contact on his abdomen elicited a hiss of pleasure from Taehyung, the wax hardening slightly and taking the appearance of cum. He hadn’t shown any sign of resistance so you continued to drip it as you moved closer to his chest, his breathing became heavier under you. The sounds of him moaning was like music to you, it got you all wet, your panties were starting to stick against your hot core, making it uncomfortable. You rubbed the areas where the wax had landed before you took a plastic card (read: sex store card) from the nightstand to scrape it off. Opening the drawer, you took out a small bottle of olive oil to rub off the remaining residue. Usually people would have that in the kitchen but yours was in your bedroom for this purpose only.

After clearing up the wax, you reached for the cold metal cock ring on the side. When you pulled the waistband of his boxers down, his aching red cock slapped against his stomach. The tip was leaking and swollen with extreme need of relief. You slipped the cold metal cock ring to the base of his aching erection, gaining a muffled hiss. How long was he like this to be in this state? The slight sensation of your hand over the tip already had him whimpering, begging for more. You knew he was trying his best to be patient for you, he wanted to be a good boy and make his mommy proud. Spreading his oozing precum around the tip and down the shaft of his cock to get him ready, he tried to thrust harder into your hold. A frown immediately replaced your pleased expression which had you withdrawing your touch. The sudden loss of your hand made him whine, tears swelling up at the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall on his rosy cheeks.

“No no, that’s a bad boy.” You shook your head, even though he wouldn’t be able to see it. “Mommy told you to wait patiently and look at what you’ve done.”

“P-please mommy! I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it, you just felt so good, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Bad boys don’t deserve to cum, you know that right?”

“Mommy please, I’m really sorry. I’ll be a good boy I promise.”

His submission brought a smirk on your face before you reached for the pink fleshlight on the side. Without warning, you slid it onto his standing cock before giving it a few pumps. “Bad boys also don’t deserve to feel my pussy around them.” He groaned at the sensation and his fists clenched tightly, making his knuckles white. “You don’t deserve to feel the real thing after what you’ve done.” Speeding up and pumping quicker than before, he started squirming under your ministrations. It was a sign that he was close as his breath was getting heavier and moans getting louder. You immediately took the fleshlight off his cock and put it to the side. The abrupt loss of tightness had him suck in a sharp breath.

“Please let me cum mommy, I’m so close.” His voice was unstable and he sounded like a wreck.

“Remember what mommy said, bad boys don’t deserve to cum.”

He was desperate and on edge right now. You reached over to get the lube and you warmed it up in your hands before you reached over to his tight little rim. Gliding your finger over it, you teased him slightly before slowly inserting one finger. It clenched around you tightly as you slowly moved. He moaned at the sensation. “Relax baby boy,” you cooed, inserting a second finger.

Pumping your fingers at a steady pace, you started scissoring him, prepping him ready. Adding more lube along with your third finger, you thrusted him harsher. The sight of him being such a hot mess under your hands had you grinding your legs together, hoping to get some relief from the friction. Wrapping your hands around his twitching cock, you started pumping him, giving him the attention that was needed. With your thumb, you slid it over the tip, smearing the precum down the shaft, using it as lubricant. You arched your skilled fingers at an angle, which reached his prostate, creating a loud groan from him as he clenched around you tightly.

“Since you were such a good boy, mommy will let you cum.”

You mercifully took the cock ring off his length before returning to stroke him quickly as you thrusted at his prostate. He suddenly tensed under your hands, clenching tightly before spurts of hot white cum shot, landing on his stomach and chest.

Scooping up some of his cum, you brought it to his lips and prodded it. “Here’s your reward for being a good boy.” His mouth opened widely to accept your fingers. He swirled his tongue around your digits, licking it all clean.

“T-thank you, mommy.”

You reached behind his sweat-matted hair to take off his blindfold, only to be greeted by his fucked out expression. Following the removal of his blindfolds, you released his arms from the confinement before you kissed his wrists, which were now slightly red from all the movement. Sliding to the end of the bed, you got up.

“Where are you going mommy?” He asked as he looked up to you with puppy eyes.

“The bathroom, I’ll be back in a second sweetheart.”

You came with a warm damp towel, wiping his chest and stomach before dropping it into the laundry basket.

“What about you, mommy? I still haven’t been able to comfort you.” The tone was slightly whiny.

Bringing back his Gucci pyjamas and a new pair of boxers, you placed it down next to him on the bed. “Mommy’s fine today, you can do that next time. I hope you enjoyed play time today.” You kissed him chastely on his cheek before smoothing out his sticky hair from his forehead.

Your neck craned around the corner, hands on the edge of the door. You looked at one last time before walking towards your office. Not bothering to switch the light on, you took a seat in your black leather chair and started up your computer. However, you were distracted and couldn’t get any work done. Who knew you would be a sugar mommy to someone? You certainly didn’t think this would happen when you first met Taehyung.

It was a year ago when you attended an impressionism art exhibition in Seoul. This was something that your mother had told to you attend. However you weren’t interested. You never understood the meaning of art because it was all the same to you. But you sure didn’t regret going when you saw this bright and perky boy who had stars in his eyes as he gazed at the paintings on display. He piqued your interest, which resulted you starting a conversation with a complete stranger.

“What’s so special about this painting that you’re so amazed by it?” You asked the boy, who turned towards you with a confused expression, which turned into a warm smile.

“Art is amazing you know? Every stroke of paint that has been put on this could be a mistake or a correction, since they couldn’t erase things like we can now. Paintings are so different compared to digital work that is so common nowadays. The modern world is such a perfectionist, we erase all mistakes unlike the olden days, where they worked with what they could.” His voice came out deeper than you expected but it was comforting.

This wasn’t something someone his age would say.

“You’re interesting. I like your opinion. Are you an art student?”

“Nope, but I love art. I study Fashion Design at Sungkyunkwan University so I guess it’s similar in a way?”

Your eyebrow arched at his response and you were intrigued by him. “Would you like to have a drink with me? I really like you and I’d like to get to know you better.”

He nodded and then followed you, when you lead him to the VIP bar, much to his surprise.

“So tell me, what are your dreams? To become a fashion designer?” You started the conversation as you sat down on a bar stool, waving the bartender over.

“I guess so. I just can’t stop sketching away when it comes to clothes. The clothes really do make the person.”

“Got any of your work you can show me?” You wanted to see what his beautiful mind would have created.

He pulled out his phone and loaded his digital portfolio before handing it over to you. You glanced through his work and designs. To say that he was an aspiring designer was an underestimation. He would’ve made it really big if he materialised it. The dresses, coats, suits and various accessories that were sketched showed so much potential. If you didn’t know this was a students portfolio, you would’ve mistaken it for a huge brand name out there.

“Why haven’t you started making these clothes yet? They’re amazing and I think you would be successful if you did.” You questioned him with genuine curiosity.

“My parents don’t support the idea of me becoming a fashion designer. They think it’s worthless and not a stable job that will bring in income.” His voice was dejected, like a puppy that wasn’t taken for a walk.

“Ah, so you’re from a conservative family?”

He only nodded back at you as he took his whiskey, neat.

“It seems like you have other troubles, too?”

He stared back at you and hesitated a bit before opening his mouth. “They’ve stopped supporting me financially a few months ago. Not to mention, I’m struggling to keep this whole thing going with my part time job at a studio. It doesn’t pay very much, you see. Well, not enough to pay for the stuff I do.” He stopped and took a sip. “I’m thinking of dropping out and stopping this altogether.”

You frowned at his response. “I think that would be a huge waste on your talent.”

He turned towards you and smiled bitterly. “I think so too, haha.”

“How about I make a proposition?”

He perked up at your question before looking confused.

“I will support you financially until you achieve your dream. How does that sound? Maybe something like an investor?”

He had shock written all over his face before he stuttered. “W-what do you mean support me financially? You’re probably around my age right? Are you joking?”

“Probably. But I’m more financially stable than you think I am.” You stood up from your seat before taking a minimalistic black business card out of your handbag.

“How about you think about this and consider it before you give me a call?” You handed over your card to him.

He looked at it and covered his mouth in shock.

Lee Y/N Lee Corporations CEO 0000 981981

He looked back up and you were already gone.

[emoboijk]

PJM | A Letter

Saying goodbye is the hardest part. —angst, tw: major character death

1,904 words

p.cred

The ink in your pen is running out, so you gather all your strength and shake it really hard, scribbling a circle roughly into the corner of the page until there are many black lines overlapping one another. You sigh and bring your hand back to turn it into a flower.

Jimin—

You look at the word and feel bad that his name looks so ugly in your handwriting. Your new meds have made you shaky and very weak. You want to write his name in big flowing letters like how girls write in movies.

But you know better than to try again.

Your first question is probably: “When could she possibly have written this?” So I’ll answer that first. Hoseok’s car broke down—remember? You looked really conflicted, but I made you leave. I’m glad. I’ve been thinking of writing something for you for a while now, ever since Dr. Moon told me the prognosis.

Anyway.

These days I’ve been thinking a lot about blood lately. Probably because I spend so much time with it in my mouth. And lungs.

With perfect timing, you cough slightly and you can feel a dribble of blood escaping the corner of your lips. You curse softly and reach for a tissue on the table, wiping your lips and keeping it over your mouth as you cough harshly again.

“Now what do you think you’re doing?” a voice echoes from the hallway.

You glance up and see Dr. Kim—a young intern in the cancer ward—standing with her arms crossed in the doorway. She looks tired today and you wonder if the residents have been giving her a hard time.

You smile sadly at her and open your mouth to say something but then cough instead. Dr. Kim sighs and walks toward you, patting your back as she reaches for the oxygen mask you’ve discarded. She places it over your mouth and nose and watches as you take a couple of breaths, your muscles relaxing from the sudden influx of air.

You reach up and gently move it to the side to say, “I wanted to feel normal for a bit.”

“I know,” she says, “but you have to keep the oxygen mask on, okay?”

You move it back over your face and nod reluctantly. You have to at least stay alive to finish this letter. Your eyes scan what you’ve already written, notice a drop of blood in the margins, and Dr. Kim leaves. She casts a long glance at you as she does, one that you don’t notice, but her eyes are filled with affection and sadness. Even young as she is, she knows you don’t have very long yet.

You trace the blood stain with your thumb. Blood. You close your eyes for a moment, memories coming at you so fast that you fill dizzy. You want to commit them all to paper but you know it’s impossible.

Do you remember that day? You were on the floor in front of me on the couch—we were watching reruns of Naruto, I think. I stayed home from work that day, and you had, too. “For solidarity,” you said, “And for snacks.” I’d been coughing all day, my chest felt tight, my stomach upset. Then I coughed, looked up, and your hair was dotted with dark red droplets of blood.

That was the first time I remember tasting it.

We always joke now that I’m more vampire than human. I think we just like the idea of immortality…

I was really impressed by you.

“You’re always impressed by me.” That’s what I think you’d say if this letter wasn’t goodbye. But anyway, you’d be right. I am quite literally always impressed by you. But this time I’m talking about the fact that you stayed.

I gave you so many outs. That first time at the hospital, and all the times after that. Every time I looked at you and your eyes looked worried or hurt or scared, I’d say, “You can go.” And you finally did snap at me about it, of course.

I’m still at a loss sometimes because I don’t think it ever occurred to you to leave. I said that to Jeongguk one time and he looked at me so seriously, “Why would he leave? He loves you.” Like it was a fact. I guess I still don’t fully understand that either.

A tear hits the paper because your heart is swelling and it hurts to love so much and be dying at the same time.

You’ll tell all of them I love them, right? And when you all feel a little better in a couple of weeks, or six months, or a year, you can tell them that I loved you best. Which will be obvious, because I gave you all of myself, but then you can joke about it and laugh and remember that you weren’t always this sad.

I feel sort of selfish; I want you to be sad for a little while. I want to know you will be so that I’ll know I was an important, significant part of your life….It’s been so long, but I’m still insecure like this.

You laugh at yourself and move the oxygen mask away to cough again.

So maybe three months? Maybe a bit longer? Grieve for me, is all I’m saying. If there are wounds, feel them at first, then let them heal.

I guess I should tell you to find someone else. But I’m still alive and the thought of you with someone else makes me cringe.

I do want you to be happy though. After the sadness and the grief: happiness. Okay? Even if that does mean finding some other girl, or moving far away, or changing everything about yourself…just make happiness your one goal.

You pause to breathe because even with the oxygen mask you feel a bit winded. You reread what you’ve written and wince at those last couple paragraphs. They feel weepy and cliché and heavier than you wanted.

You close your eyes and picture his face, more tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

You know why I couldn’t say any of this aloud, right? Why I waited to tell you all this in a letter?

I wouldn’t have been able to get through it, of course. But also I think you wouldn’t have let me. And besides, I like the words on paper—the way they look, the knowledge that you can return to this, to me, whenever you like.

I’m not sure where to end this. I could talk about you forever.

Dr. Moon comes in with Dr. Kim and some others behind him. You look up at them and smile, “I’m almost done.” He nods, his lips turned down in a sad frown. He picks the chart from off the end of your bed, flipping through it though he knows nothing has changed, it’s still just bad news.

Thank you for loving me.

I love you so much. I always will.

I’m sorry I’m gone, but I’ll always be with you.

You sign your name, trying for big, pretty letters and failing. You sighed, glanced over the words and added:

P.S. All that was so corny, but I meant it. I love you. 

Jimin doesn’t find the letter until after the funeral. It was a simple service—white lilies and a dark coffin, lots of friends and families in dark clothing, lots of tears. Jimin’s eyes were red and puffy from trying not to cry. He’d hugged your parents so tightly he could’ve bruised their ribs. Jeongguk had driven him home after, but all seven of them ended up in your—his, he corrects himself, apartment.

Seokjin enters behind the others and wanders into the kitchen with the groceries he’d picked up on the way. Jimin’s not an avid cook at the best of times; Seokjin needs to stock the fridge. He starts a large batch of kimchi fried rice, continually pausing to breathe deeply to keep from bursting at the seams.

Yoongi arrived with Seokjin and Namjoon but immediately turned the corner and walked to the liquor store. Ten minutes later he waltzes through the front door with two large bottles of single malt whiskey. He moves confidently through the apartment, stopping in the living room to place them both on the coffee table in front of Jimin.

“We need a drink.”

The others—Hoseok, Jeongguk, Taehyung, and Namjoon—pile onto the couch and the floor. Tae hugs a pillow and leans into Jeongguk, tears in his eyes. Namjoon sinks into the couch like he’s hoping to disappear, trying to feel without collapsing. Hobi watches his friends, feeling lost. Where do they go from here?

They feel numb. Like you might walk through the door with a couple of pizzas, proud to have tricked them all. Oh, calm down, it’s just a joke! I can’t believe I got you! And then they could finally breathe, in complete disbelief that any joke could be so cruel. 

Jimin’s resolve disappeared and he started crying again. But he doesn’t notice. The first day out he’d realized it was too exhausting to keep track of all the tears. Besides, at this point, he’s angry more than anything. His fists are clenched at his sides, his fingernails digging into his palms until they bleed. Anger surges through him like a blaze. He’s too afraid to feel anything else.

“Where are the glasses?” Yoongi says, but not to anyone in particular. And no one answers. But Taehyung unwraps himself from around the pillow—which somehow smells like your perfume and Jimin’s cologne in a way that is both comforting and painful—and sidesteps Jimin, cross-legged on the floor. He walks with Yoongi to the kitchen.

When they come back, Jeongguk has passed out. His eyes are puffy from crying, and he’s leaning heavily against Hoseok’s shoulder with his mouth parted. Instead of trying to squeeze back in, both Taehyung and Yoongi join Jimin on the floor.

“What’s all this stuff?” Yoongi says, pushing things to the side gently to make room as he sets down the cups.

Jimin shrugs and looks nowhere, “It’s all hers.”

That makes everyone pause, a deep sigh passing Taehyung’s lips as he gently puts the glasses down and started organizing the books and papers into piles. The sight of the unfinished novels makes his heart so heavy he thinks it might fall to the floor. And there are little notes in both your and Jimin’s handwriting—grocery lists, reminders, things to do—those, too, do nothing but add weight.

Then a lavender envelope. In one corner: To PARK JIMIN and in the other: From ME In your uneven, scratchy handwriting.

“What’s this?” Taehyung says, holding the envelope up with a curious glance, “Birthday card?”

Jimin furrows his brow. “I’ve never seen that before.”

“Where was it?” Hoseok says. “On the table,” Taehyung shrugs and hands it to Jimin.

His hands shake as he takes it, his fingers sliding gently across the dark ink. A tear hits the front of the envelope and Jimin bites his lip because every moment since you’ve died is a fresh pain.

His fingers slip beneath the fold and open it, sliding out a folded paper covered in your familiar scrawl. “Oh my god,” he whispers, his voice like a last breath.

author’s note—i feel like i have a talent for writing depressing stuff :) 

for more of my works check out my m.list

[pikemoreno]

Secrets and Stories Part 3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, mention of a gun, some violence, sooo much fluff

A/N: the last part!!! yayyy! hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it

Part 1 | Part 2

A nervous, excited energy seemed to permeate the neighborhoods. High-school kids all across town could be found pacing in their rooms— the girls doing and re-doing their hair, the boys fumbling nervously with the ties around their necks. It was Winter Formal, not the most important night of the year for Midtown’s students by any means—Prom and Homecoming took that spot— but still a night to be your best, nonetheless. You and Peter were each in your rooms, three miles apart, each feeling as though you were more nervous than anyone in the history of winter formals had ever been.

His mind was racing. What if he embarrassed himself— again? What if he tried to kiss you and you rejected him? What if you thought he was a bad dancer and never wanted to be seen with him again? What if you already knew he had a crush on you and only said you’d go with him out of pity? What if he accidentally let it slip that it was him in that Spiderman suit that day?  Or what if it was a perfect night? He gulped, sincerely hoping for the last one.

Your mind was racing. What if you embarrassed yourself— again? What if he tries to kiss you and you freeze? What if you try to kiss him and it makes him uncomfortable? What if you trip on these damn heels in the middle of everyone? What if he knew you liked him and asked you to go with him as a joke? You shook that out of your head. Peter wasn’t that kind of person.

Then there was a knock. You could see your eyes widen in the mirror as you finished touching up your makeup.

“Don’t answer, don’t answer, don’t answer,” you yelled to your family, running to the front door as quickly as you could in heels and quieting down as you put your hand on the doorknob. Deep breath. You opened the door, forcing a calm appearance, to reveal Peter Parker and, dang, he cleaned up nice. There was just a moment of extended silence as you both stood, mutually in awe of each other all dressed up. Peter panicked when he realized he was staring and quickly broke the silence.

“You look really nice,” he stammered out.

“Thanks. So do you… Really good.” His face lit up with pride. It was then that you heard shuffling in the other room and you knew what was coming— a lot of gushing and pictures. You couldn’t subject Peter to that quite yet. You stepped past the front door to join him outside and quickly shut the door behind you, leaving Peter with a very confused look on his face. Before he could ask, you shook your head, uttering a “Just trust me” as you grabbed his hand and walked away from your house. You didn’t think twice about the action, but it brought a blush to his cheeks.

Midtown’s gymnasium was rather cheesily decorated. Glitter and sequin doused paper snowflakes and streamers hung overhead, balloon arches of blue and white welcomed visitors, and the “melted snowman” punch, while a cute— though slightly childish— idea, it now ironically reeked of several different types of alcohol.

The music choices were rather mediocre as well, you found. The songs flipped between top 40 radio and overly emotional slow dance songs with a very corny Christmas song thrown in every now and then. It made you cringe, leaving you and Peter left yourselves side-lined from the dance floor, talking and having a laugh at the outrageous dance moves of some of your more intoxicated classmates. Another slow dance came on. It wasn’t terrible, you thought, one of the better songs that’d been played so far. Peter stood up and held his hand outstretched for you, you glanced up at him

“Shall we? It’s kind of why we’re here after all.” You joyfully nodded, taking his hand and letting him take you onto the dance floor. He gave you a small spin as you joined in with the couples that were already dancing, sending you into a fit of giggles. You watched him look around at everyone who was already dancing, trying to figure out what he was supposed to be doing and, when he finally fell into rhythm, he turned back to see you fondly shaking your head at him.

“What?” he asked, looking down a bit, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Nothing,” you consoled, “It was just cute.” He let his head dip down a bit further in his flustered state before looking back up at you, the brightest of grins on both of your faces.

There was a comfortable silence as you swayed to the music, content to be near each other, enjoying each other’s company. Ned was throwing Peter thumbs-up’s and winking over your shoulder. He responded with a look that said “knock it off before I crack up and screw this whole thing up” which made Ned end his fun and go saunter off to get a drink.

After that ordeal, Peter spoke up again with a huff of a laugh, “Can you believe this started because I knocked you over?”

“Please don’t remind me,” you laughed, “I’m still so mad at myself for being so awkward…” You tacked on the ending after a moment of debating, “… in front of the guy I like.”

“I’m a bit awkward too, if you haven’t noticed. I embarrass myself all the time,” he started, but then it clicked. “Hang on. You— You liked me?” he spluttered out in disbelief.

You started to respond, but it was then that he saw it over your shoulder: one of your female classmates being quickly taken out of the room. It definitely did not appear to Peter to be in any way consensual, the tipsy, giggling girl was harshly dragged out of the gym and down the hall by her boyfriend, who had been known for… That sort of thing in the past. Peter glanced to everyone else in the room, hoping someone else would’ve noticed— anyone who wasn’t having a moment with their crush. But they didn’t and he couldn’t let it slide. He dropped his hands from your waist, with an “I’m sorry” and “I’ll be right back” and raced out of the room, stripping off the black suit and white button up to reveal the red and blue suit underneath once he was out of sight. Ned would’ve yelled at him if he had known, but he had decided to keep his Spiderman garb on underneath his formal clothing, hoping to find the courage to tell you it was him with The Bands that day and to thank you for what you did for him. Ned would’ve once again reminded him that the “People Who Know Peter’s Secret” club was closed to new members, but he couldn’t deny the suit was coming in handy now. The footsteps ahead of him sped up once the captor realized he was being followed and Peter willed his feet to keep up as they rounded the corner and high-tailed it outside.

Meanwhile, you found yourself alone on the dance floor, watching as the boy you just confessed your feelings to ran out, completely unexplained. But it didn’t take long for you to leave your sulking on the dance floor and go after him, following the sound of shoes tapping against tile and… Clothes strewn across the hall? You picked them up as you dashed outside, searching for movement.

The girl in the attempted rapist’s arms was starting to come out of her tipsy state and was getting more and more panicked as she was half-dragged through the parking lot; she began crying out for help.

“I got you, I got you,” Peter yelled back as he chased after them, shooting webs left and right in an attempt to hit the gross boy. As the boy made it to his car, one of the webs hit their mark, sticking his right hand to the car door. He lost his grip on the girl and she fell to the ground. She started to sink into hysterics as she crawled away to safety. Peter ran over to her to check on her, not noticing the boy’s left-hand fumbling in his pocket.

The next thing he heard was a cry of, “Look out.” Your voice. The next sound was a loud bang. A gunshot. Then it was metal hitting concrete and metal hitting bone soon after. Peter looked up slowly, not sure he wanted to see the outcome, but he was surprised to find you with the boy’s gun in your hand, him knocked out beside you. He ran to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, but you almost weren’t,” you replied, panting. “Go ahead and go inside Olivia. I’ll find you, ok?” The shaking girl didn’t have to be asked twice; she nodded and bolted inside. You watched her re-enter the gymnasium and then turned back to Peter.

“(Y/N) (L/N), saving my life again,” Peter shook his head.

“Peter Parker, needing his life saved again. Aren’t you supposed to be a superhero or something?”

“How did you know— I mean, you must be mistaken I’m not— I—” he took the mask off, revealing eyes that looked rather defeated, mouth turned up in a half smile. He gave a weak “Surprise.”

“Hardly,” you giggled, “You’re terrible at keeping secrets.”

“How did you know?”

“Would you like an example or a list?”

“Oh no,” he groaned, but you continued.

“First, it was the voice. You really ought to change your voice while you’re in the suit. There was also those,” you pointed at the pile of discarded clothing on the ground. He laughed. “And that smile.” You brought a hand to his cheek. His laughter subsided, and he looked nothing short of awestruck. “I would know that smile anywhere— across the chem lab, down the hall, almost hidden under a Spiderman suit. I’ve thought it was the nicest smile I’ve ever seen for quite a while,” your thumb brushed against his skin, dangerously close to his lips.

That was all the confidence boost he needed. He leaned in and kissed you quickly, hardly even giving you time to kiss him back.

“Is that it?” you asked, bringing your other hand up to his face as well. It was your turn to initiate the kiss and, unlike the first one, this one lingered. It was sweet and so long awaited, it made your head spin. You eventually pulled away as a couple of smiley messes. It was right about then that Peter remembered that you were in a parking lot next to an unconscious rapist while a dance ensued inside.

“Shall we call the police and then maybe try to enjoy the dance without me running off this time?”

“Sounds like plan. Though you might not want to go back in like that,” you replied, stepping past the captor to toss Peter his clothes. You couldn’t help but watch him out of the corner of your eye as you called the police to tell them to pick up the attempted rapist. He ran his hands through his hair, fluffing it up from where it had been pressed down under the mask and then beginning on his clothes. You couldn’t quite believe this was your life now: saving Spiderman, going to dances with Peter Parker. He caught you watching him as you hung up the phone and he couldn’t help but let his mind wander as yours was. How did he get so lucky as to have someone like you in his corner— whether he was Spiderman or Peter Parker.

As he adjusted his suit jacket on his shoulders, he held out his hand for you and you happily took it. Police sirens could be heard in the distance as the two of you strolled back toward the gym, discussing his double life— with you giving him input on how he could keep it that way.

“No more secrets,” he told himself, completely relieved.

“This is going to be a good story,” you thought, incredibly excited for the future with the boy next to you.

Marvel Taglist: @petxrparks @pbnjparker @asphalt-cocktail @littlecrazyfangirl-98 @peachesandparker @il-rose @farfromjustordinary @starkravingparker @darlintom @hazhasmycoffee

[bleusarcelle]

Legendary Station Fic - Chap 1

Seeing as I’m almost done with this fic I thought it was worth posting it on Tumblr? So, yeah, huray. Klance Radio Station Au or Klance Boradcasters Au. or College Roadio Station Au. Lol Idw

I’m gonna say the same thing I said when I started this fic; 

Here's the thing: I know shit about radio stations. Here's the other thing: I don't care, I'm still gonna write the Au. 

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn't belong to me, sha la la.  

"Voltron , 104.5; the legendary station!"

The slogan was followed by a celebration sound effect that did nothing to silence Lance’s booming voice, "And CongratuLIONS, Christian! You just won two tickets to the Balmera Crystals concert for next Friday!"

The brunet laughs as more screaming and whooping appears on the other side of the line, "Don't hang up on me, alright buddy? Green is gonna take your call and give you more details." A few buttons on his desk later, "Did you got it, Pidgey?" He asks out loud and smirks when Pidge flips him the finger.

"Don't call me that." She snaps and Lance rolls his shoulders back, satisfied with the answer.

Lance cracks his knuckles as he leans towards his microphone, "Alright, guys, let's get back to our thing! Remember there are still a few more tickets left, so keep calling and you might be next the lucky lion to win! Now, let's hear this new Voltron Release, courtesy of your Blue Paladin, and remember you heard it here first in —" he pauses and finger gun points at Pidge, who grins and let the slogan roll.

"Voltron, 104.5; the legendary station!"

"See you after a small pause, my peeps!" Pressing the off button by his side, Lance pushes down his wireless headphones and flashes a grin at Pidge behind the glass, who is rolling around the Main Cabin on her green rolling chair.

"What do you think, Pidge? How we looking with the numbers?" He asks through the microphone and Lance watches as Pidge lazily reaches to press the speaker button on her desk.

"Well, Mr. Blue Paladin, not to ruin your fun but you’re still below Red." Her voice echoes around the RC and Lance let’s out a shout, slamming his hands against the table.

"Que, que? That Emo Mullet doesn't even have the busiest hour of the day!" He cries out, waving his hands in outrage, his attention focused on Pidge that he misses the sound of the RC's door behind him.

"That's because the content I offer is actually good and entertaining." A bored voice reply to him and Lance turns to see Keith at the entrance of the Recording Cabin, leaning against the doorframe.

And, yeah, okay, it’s one thing to interfere during his hour, even though they’re in commercials, but this is Lance’s zone, okay? And Keith has no right to come in here with his tiny messy ponytail and his freaking outdated flannel and looking like the bad boy with a soft heart, and with his sunglasses on top, allowing him to see the Alexandria’s Genesis in him and it’s not fair, looking that pretty —

Anyways, the point is that Keith sucks. Yes, that was the point, and Lance will not stand it.

"Oh no, no, no, no, nope. Get out, this is still my hour." Keith rolls his eyes as he closes the door behind him and walks towards the other end of the cabin, waving off Lance and his pout.

"Relax, Lance, I left my material here yesterday and I need it for today’s hour." The young man explains as he gathers the bunch of papers and books on the end of the table, feeling Lance's eyes on him as he makes the small journey.

“Why’re you here so early, though?” Lance questions, arching an eyebrow as Keith gathers his notes at the end of the round table.

The Astronomy student shrugs, not bothering to look up, “I finished the class's activity earlier than expected.”

Lance rolls his eyes, “Of course you did, Mr. Top of the Class.”

The Korean man shrugs nonchalantly, “Pretty easy stuff.”

Lance is about to reply, because Jesus, Keith, Physic stuff are not that easy are you a purple alien? But his eye catches the movement of the Live Light coming back to life. Flashing an annoyed glare towards Pidge, who didn't look in the least remorseful, Lance quickly pulls back up his blue headphones.

"Alright, guys, and we're back! It’s time for favorite segment of this hour; that’s right, let me tell you about these incredible pickup lines I got for you in Pick Up Out Of The Blue! —"

Keith snorts loudly as he exits, barely dodging the flying microphone thrown his way. He joins Pidge on the Main Cabin, MC as they call it, with Lance's voice echoing around the small room, and they both listen as Lance goes through his usual pickup line session with his audience.

When he first suggested it on a Group Meeting, a loud ‘No’ echoed from all the members, but Lance, being Lance, didn't take no as an answer and the very next day tried his new idea out and as everyone cringed and groaned in the MC during his hour, the station's phone went crazy and Twitter went off with notifications.

For some reason, people found Lance’s corny and cringy pickup lines endearing and even some of them actually asked dating advice from him, giving him the option to create a new segment inside his hour.

Those poor souls.

Three weeks later and it was a big surprise when Lance's pickup lines were more than popular and the rating of his hour in the Station grew. Lance still doesn’t let them live it down; he declared that it was his millionaire idea to dethrone Keith from being the Most Heard Broadcaster in the Station, not that Keith cared if he succeed or not, because unlike Lance, Keith honestly doesn’t care about his ranking, no matter how much Lance insist on their so called rivalry, the ivory teen just want to give the audience the truth, because, yes, people, the Moon Landing was a fake, open your eyes —

"Now, hear me out, because this one is the premium one, ready? ‘Hey, girl! I think you're purrfect.'"

Both Pidge and Keith groan at the same time as Lance continues effortlessly, laughing as he reads some of tweets the audience sends him with their own pickup lines and reading them out loud: a usual dynamic between Lance’s audience and him.

There’s a reason why Lance’s hour is one of their most popular, even though not the most ranked one, and it’s because Lance makes it seem like a casual chat between friends and if there’s something Lance is good at is making friends.

"I swear, I still have the theory that most of people that listen to his hour are fuckboys." Pidge grumbles and Keith laughs, leaning with his hip against the end of Pidge’s desk, eyes focused on the Cuban Broadcaster.

"From all your theories, that has to be my favorite one." Keith jokes before returning his gaze towards Lance, his eyes almost fond as he watches the brunet to bark a laugh and wiping a tear from his eye when he finishes a particular funny line.

Pidge watches him from the side and hums, "Keith, tone it down a notch, I can feel your pinning." She says, smirking when Keith chokes and losses his posture.

"Pidge!" He hisses, narrowing his eyes and making sure that the speaker button wasn't on. The young girl laughs before raising her hands in mock surrender.

"I'm sorry, man, it's just so painful to see you sometimes."

"Shut up, Katie."

Pidge opens her mouth in mocking indignation and throws her Rubrics Cube at him. Keith laughs as he easily dodges it, sticking out his tongue playfully.

"Children, children, what did we say about throwing stuff inside the studio?" demands a new voice from the entrance of the Main Cabin, making both teenagers to turn meeting Shiro’s unamused look, arms crossed over his chest.

"Ah, well,” Keith starts, shrugging his shoulders, “This might be a good time to say we need a new microphone." He informs nonchalantly as he points at Lance with his thump.

The Latino catches the action, realizing he was mentioned and he flips Keith off with his free hand, not stopping his broadcasting and sends a toothy grin at Shiro as a greeting. Shiro waves at him but narrows his eyes in the promise of a future lecture.

He waits until Lance visually pouts before the former pilot nods satisfied, knowing that his message got through.

"Go get ready, Keith.” Shiro orders, putting his attention back to the teens in front of him. “Your hour is about to begin in ten." The black haired teen nods and exits the MC, heading towards the RC.

"You good, Pidge?" Shiro asks once Keith is out the door. Pidge nods, pushing herself back from the desk, leaving open for Shiro to take over.

"All yours, Black."

"Two minutes, Blue." Shiro says into the speaker and shakes his head softly with a smile when Lance salutes him.

Shiro and Pidge stay quiet as they listen to Lance wrap up his show and Keith enters the cabin slowly, taking seat by Lance’s side with his notes and picking up his own pair of red headphones.

“Sadly, my peeps, as everything in this life, good things must come to an end, and so does my hour of today. I know, I know, it’s pretty sad, especially when I’m leaving you with Mullet Man —“

“They know my name, Blue.” Keith interrupts from his end, tapping on the right ear of his headphones to make sure it was connected with the Station’s signal.

“Quiet, Red, this is not your hour yet. I still have ten more ticks.”

“Ten, nine, eight —“

“Wait, no! Stop, I haven’t finish –“

“Five, four, three —“

“Remember your brave Blue Paladin for the hero he was! He went down fighting the mighty old fashioned Mullet —!“

“Blue! Leave my mullet out of your monologue!”

Shiro sighs and rubs the bridge between his nose as Pidge cackles while reading through the station official’s Twitter. The show went on a commercial pause, cutting off the bickering of the broadcasters, and it has been around three minutes since the Live Light went off and yet both broadcasters are still wrestling for the microphone.

“I will not surrender!” Lance’s voice echoes in the MC, as he’s tries to push Keith’s hand out of his nose and cheek, which only makes Keith to press it further, “Voltron will live on!”

“You ass! I’m part of Voltron!” complains Keith, equally trying to get Lance’s hand out of his face by slapping him.

Pidge’s amber eyes glanced for a second towards the digital clock above the glass window of the cabin presses the Speaker button, “Hate to interrupt your Love Quarrel,” she ignores Lance’s shout of indignation, “but Lance, finish your make out session already and go to class, it starts in ten minutes.”

“I’m defending my honor, Pidge!”

“Defend it on the way to class, moron. Let's go!”

“Fine.” He grunts out, slapping Keith’s hands out of his personal bubble, “Just because Mullet keeps clogging up my pores.”

Keith rolls his eyes and squeaks when Lance ruffles his hair as he walks behind him. “Hey!” he shouts, glaring up at the brunet.

Keith tries to remember to breathe when Lance laughs and flashes him a toothy grin and throws him a peace sign over his shoulder. “See ya later, Mullet, don’t bore the audience to death with your conspiracy theories!”

It’s Lance’s turn to dodge the already broken microphone.

“I saw that one, Keith,” echoes Shiro’s voice around the RC, “and it's on you this time.”

“We have wireless headphones that are linked by Bluetooth, Shiro, we don’t really need microphones anymore!” Keith complains, pointing at his own headphones to make an emphasis, and at his brother’s unamused look Keith groans and waves his hand in the air, giving him permission to start his hour.

Shiro chuckles as he takes seat on Pidge's chair and presses the Live button, sending Keith a thumps up which the Korean broadcaster mirrors with a smile.

“My fellow conspiracy theorists, welcome to another one of our session, it’s the Red Paladin speaking,” Keith starts off, falling into his usual opening line with ease as he relaxes and leans back on his rolling chair, flipping through his notebook, “Do I have some juice for you today, guys. Have you ever heard about the Mothman?”

“His conspiracy theory of the week should be: ‘Is Klance real or a myth?’” Pidge murmurs under her breath, making Shiro laugh.

“Go do your homework, Miss Holt, just because you have online courses doesn’t mean you’re excused to miss deadlines.”

Pidge groans as she takes out her laptop from her bag and makes herself comfortable on the couch of the MC, typing away with Keith’s theories as background noise.

Once Lance enters the MC and gathers his stuff, she waves him goodbye, and Pidge smiles when he waves back at her with a bright smile and with a quick look, she can see the screen of his phone, letting her see the Radio App open.

She has an idea on what he might be listening to.

[usstatesofsong]

Countdown to #Eurovision: Yearly Reviews - 1981

We’re approximately three months away from the next edition of the Eurovision Song Contest, and while we’re waiting for more of the 2017 songs to be released before reviewing them (as we did last year), we’re going to revisit Eurovision song contests from the past and rank our favorites in each contest.

We started two days ago with our first post, 1980, so we move forward to Dublin and 1981! This contest I actually know very little about, other than the country that won and a few of the other songs. ‘81 is still a bit early for me in the decade, and so the music itself doesn’t feel so “80′s” to me. Nevertheless, there’s some awesome things about the ‘81 contest - we get Cyprus for the first time, we get a Norway “nul points” entry, and we get a lot of dancing! Although I would argue that dancing had been around for many years; people just make a big deal out of it because the winning group had such a memorable act.

On with the entries, they say... although I say “Shut up and get to the point, you dunce!”

#1 - AUSTRIA - Marty Brem, “Wenn du da bist” (17th place, 20 pts)

Oh. Well... maybe I do remember more of this contest than I thought. First things first: the song itself is actually a pretty ballad, and Marty’s voice is clear - but I feel it’s disrupted by the female vocalist. On top of that, the obvious elephant in the room: the presentation. Should I have gotten a hard drink, or have taken some kind of philosophical course to understand what’s going on here? What’s the art direction here? Why put a pretty girl in an American football helmet? Ah well... We’ll see if this holds up as we hear more of the entries.

#2 - TURKEY - Modern Folk Üçlüsü & Aysegül Aldinç, "Dönme Dolap" (18th place, 9 pts)

Strangely enough, the first two countries to start 1980 are the same two to start 1981′s contest. But Turkey here is the weaker of the two. Disco died a year earlier, but I don’t think Turkey got the message, and they sent a bunch of 40-year-old people to shuffle around mics and clap their hands. In fact I always felt that they were a few years behind musically from the rest of Europe. I will probably remember this song, but not for the best reasons - and it certainly doesn’t sound like a winner.

#3 - GERMANY - Lena Valaitis, "Johnny Blue" (2nd place, 132 pts)

This has a dark, melodic, and storybook type feel to it, like I’m being told about the story of Johnny Blue. Without looking up the lyrics, that’s how it feels, at least. I was... actually kinda hoping for a bit more, to be honest, just because we haven’t heard the rest of the entries and I want to know how this got 2nd place. Typically Eurovision entries don’t sound like this. But maybe the complexity and lyrical content boosted it? As it stands, a very solid entry, but I yearn for more.

#4 - LUXEMBOURG - Jean-Claude Pascal, “C’est peut-être pas l'Amérique” (T-11th place, 41 pts)

And song #4 is Luxembourg again, too? Are you sure these picks were under the auspice of the EBU back then? Ah, well. I love the way this guy sings; he’s a previous winner (from 1961), and he works the camera to his advantage. But with his age, I think this song is a bit old as well. I’m also not clear on the lyrics (I do know some French) but it seemed a bit corny to me. Was being American a cliche back in 1981?

#5 - ISRAEL - Hakol Over Habibi, "Halayla" (7th place, 56 pts)

Yay, Israel is back! They had to miss the ‘80 contest for various reasons. They brought the group shuffle dances back, and they make them ten times more cool than Turkey does! First of all, major props to the female lead - she was 6-7 months pregnant when she performed on stage. The song itself is a bit Motown, a bit Israeli, a bit pop-dance... it covers a bunch of bases. Not sure how much I like this, however, or how much I care. My biggest memory from the song itself is the cringe-worthy falsetto delivery from one of the backup singers. Not a good sign.

#6 - DENMARK - Debbie Cameron & Tommy Seebach, "Krøller eller ej" (T-11th place, 41 pts)

Alright, so - when I first saw the name “Tommy Seebach” my mind instantly thought of 1993, when Seebach returned to the contest and made a lame-o of himself by... well, that’s a though for another day. My eyes widened when the conductor started waving his baton and sounds of laser guns filled the air. For reasons I can’t describe, I love this so much! Maybe it’s just the clusterfuck of things going on, or the fact that this hearkens to really good disco vibes - again, not what Turkey did. And those dances moves! I think this is my first true favorite of the night. Unexpectedly, too!

#7 - YUGOSLAVIA - Seid Memić (Vajta), "Lejla" (15th place, 35 pts)

*Note - I want to keep track of “winners” by adding up points overall scored from these reviews at the end of each post. Since Yugoslavia is now defunct, the points scored will go to the current-day country of whichever language sung that night. So, for 1981, it would go to Bosnia-Herzegovina, since the act sung in Bosnian.

Now, with that out of the way, this one started out pretty but went nowhere quickly. The composition was flat and cheap. Next.

#8 - FINLAND - Riki Sorsa, "Reggae OK" (16th place, 27 pts)

Give it to the Finns for bringing something original, unique, and certainly colorful to the contest! Albeit a little cheap, reggae was certainly “ok” to me! An improvement from 1980, but again - a bit disturbed by what is going on on-stage. That guy just got on the floor and wiggled his legs around. Who are you, Alice Cooper? Anywho, this may get a few points from me as well, when it’s all said and done. 

#9 - FRANCE - Jean Gabilou, “Humanahum” (3rd place, 125 pts)

More ‘big voice’ from the men who sing in French! Well, this blows Luxembourg out of the park (sorry, JCP.) I think this is the first time I’ve heard such great female background vocal singers, as well. I’m not sure where ‘Humanahum’ fits into the French language, but I digress. I would have voted this higher than Germany back in ‘81. 

#10 - SPAIN - Bacchelli, "Y sólo tú" (14th place, 38 pts)

A bit of a Latin-Caribbean vibe from this one! It’s very “1981″ and carries a softer pop vibe, which doesn’t make it a hugely challenging contender for me. But I appreciate it for what it does. I’m locked in to the lack of stage presence by Bacchelli, but his steady voice (again) makes up for it. I just realized how many male lead singers there are in 1981′s contest...

#11 - NETHERLANDS - Linda Williams, "Het is een wonder" - 9th place, 51 pts

This is very Karen Carpenter, or Helen Reddy... another soft-pop late-70′s vibe kicking in here. The 70′s music really did die hard, huh? Well, part of my opinion of this song is thrown off by another reviewer who really hated this one. It’s a bizarre tune, for sure. It’s not the worst, but it’s not the best. And the organs used by the Irish orchestra deconstruct the otherwise homely composition this is supposed to represent. I don’t hate it, but it’s probably not getting points from me.

#12 - IRELAND - Sheeba, “Horoscopes” - 5th place, 105 pts

Hmmm. Well? The home entry takes up the first ‘interesting topic’ of the evening. A song about horoscopes? Zodiac signs, celestial objects, and a bunch of other-wordly things. I was more entertained by the lyrical content than I should have been. The women are so enticing... except that braided-hair one, she can go. I’m tired of disco on the evening, I don’t get why it was gone in 1980 but reemerged so heavily in ‘81. But this is on the good side with Denmark, and is certainly worth a full listen.

#13 - NORWAY - Finn Kalvik, "Aldri i livet" - 20th place, 0 pts

Based on the Irish commentary, this song had all the ingredients to be great, and all of the international success. So why did this song get nul points? Well, the backing singers on the chorus lines were soooo out of sync, and at times were louder than Finn himself. Finn also does this one-syllable-per-note thing that can get grating. The verses are definitely the strongest part of the song. I would have spent more time perfecting the composition and working with the orchestra to make something more tolerable, melodically speaking. But I don’t think this really deserved no points at all.

#14 - UNITED KINGDOM - Bucks Fizz, “Making Your Mind Up” - 1st place, 136 pts

What can be said that hasn’t already been said? Well, if you’ve gotten this far in your life without knowing, I pity you. About 1:40 into the song, the skirts of the two female singers are yanked right off! I found myself tapping my feet to this, despite having heard it several times before. It’s too bad that the composition here is also pretty weak, and that the vocals weren’t strong, but the performance itself carried this song to victory. It’s a defining moment of Eurovision history, and - yeah, it deserved to win. A very fun pop song.

#15 - PORTUGAL - Carlos Paião, “Playback” - T-18th place, 9 pts

I... I love it. I LOVE IT! Why, oh why, couldn’t this get more points? Oh, right, it’s Portugal. Sigh... My friends, it’s time to acknowledge that Portugal annually places 10 spots lower than they should in most years. This fits right into the music scene of that time, and Carlos is having so much fun on stage with his colorful crew. From the dance moves, to the electro sounds, to the chaotic blurts of the trumpet. The last two songs have awakened me.

#16 - BELGIUM - Emly Starr, “Samson” - 13th place, 40 pts

Yes, yes, yes! Bring it forth, Emly, for what has been an otherwise slow-going contest has certainly picked up some steam! This is another disco-pop leftover, for sure, but she’s working the stage with her long legs and there’s elements of rock and tru-pop in there, as well. The melody is still in my head as I write this out - something that doesn’t always happen with the ballads. I thought I liked Denmark’s song more until I heard this, and this certainly beats Ireland. 

#17 - GREECE - Yiannis Dimitras, "Feggari Kalokerino" - 8th place, 55 pts

I feel like this contest has taken an absolute 180 turn in song interest. This is male-led ballad, nothing new... but dare I say it’s even better than France! Another well-told story, there’s some kind of connection between the girl on the piano and the lead singer, symbolized by the rose. I don’t know what more Greece could’ve added to this to make it soar, other than a clearer microphone.

#18 - CYPRUS - Island, “Monika” - 6th place, 69 pts

Welcome to ESC, Cyprus! You’ve yet to win, but here’s to hoping you bring us all to your beautiful little corner of the earth some day. As for their first entry, it’s the ‘schlager’-iest of the night, and I’m not impressed, really. It’s not bad, but given what I heard and saw the last four or five songs, it’s a let down. I think juries gave Cyprus some freebie points in this first contest.

#19 - SWITZERLAND - Peter, Sue, and Marc, “Io senza te” - 4th place, 121 pts

Oh. These three. Ha, well, I don’t immediately remember their other entries from the 70′s, but this one seems like their best. But, then again, I find this dated, especially with the way she sings. It was a cool idea to have the pan flute - if you were actually playing it! Oh well. I suppose this was the kind of pop ballad music that really wanted back in 1981.

#20 - SWEDEN - Björn Skifs, "Fångad i en dröm" - 10th place, 50 pts

And we finish off with the Swedes, and coincidentally, the only singer known states-side - Blue Swede lead singer Bjorn Skifs! He brought the lone rock song to the contest, and while I can’t manage to really put this one down, this feels like a really reserved presentation. He could’ve rocked out a bit more during the thumping drums and guitar riffs, huh? Even if the lyrics didn’t call for it. Ah, well. I’m nitpicking. I like this to a degree, but methinks there’s something more that could’ve been done here. It’s missing the je-ne-sais-quoi quality of a Eurovision winner.

And there you have it! The rest was history, and Britain were rewarded for shedding their clothes. I wasn’t expecting so much disco music, to be honest, and that was a let-down. My best guess is that the contemporary, conservative music world was still trying to find its sound for the 80′s. My winner is not the United Kingdom, just because I feel there were stronger performances on the night and those songs should’ve been rewarded as such. However, no denying that the UK had a solid pop hit with Bucks Fizz, one that got stuck in your head like an earworm. Here are my points for 1981′s contest:

12 - Greece 10 - Portugal 8 - United Kingdom 7 - Belgium 6 - Denmark 5 - France 4 - Germany 3 - Spain 2 - Finland 1 - Ireland

And here is the overall count of points thus far:

1st - 18 - Greece (1981) 2nd - 14 - Germany 3rd - 13 - Ireland (1980) 4th - 11 - Portugal 4th - 11 - Belgium 10 - France 8 - Luxembourg 8 - United Kingdom 7 - Norway 6 - Denmark 3 - Spain 3 - Turkey 2 - Sweden 2 - Finland

- 50SS