#well. for the grand 20 minutes i could play her. f

[waterdroid]

Tried to play like 20 minutes of Baldur's Gate 3. It looked like crap and my laptop got so hot you could fry an egg on it </3 sad. ANYWAYS here's a portrait of the charcter I played, Eli! She's my frist DnD character, but Edgier™! don't let her angry face fool you she's a sweetie <3

If you enjoy what I do, please support me on Ko-fi!

[artificialqueens]

Fantaisie in F minor, Op. 49 (Anetra x Sasha Colby) - Writworm42

A/N: 3 years after a life-changing and career-ending attack, Sasha comes back to the piano with Anetra's help.

TW transphobic violence, though not written about in detail. Chopin is my absolute favourite composer and in tough times, I cling to his music. I hope I gave him a fitting tribute. Title is one of his pieces; I tried to pick one that fit the fic's mood, but lmk what y'all think! I highly encourage everyone who's not familiar with his music to listen to the songs named in the fic as well, they're all beautiful.

Thank you Athena for beta-ing & hyping me up. Please note, I'm not a guide dog user, but I did try my best to research. If anyone who is a guide dog user has any feedback for me, please let me know!

It makes the news the night it happens, and stays on the news for weeks.

First transgender winner of International Chopin Competition attacked at awards ceremony. Even three years later, the thought of it opens a pit in Sasha’s stomach that makes bile rise in her throat. The hospital stay where all the nurses treated her coldly, where she didn’t speak the language they spoke to each other, sometimes right in front of her, and only knew what she was told despite having so many questions. The way she had been only half-conscious most of the time between the painkillers, anesthetics, and ICU delirium. The pain, so much fucking pain. Being wheeled from surgery to surgery, never knowing when the last one would be.

Blinking and blinking and blinking, but seeing nothing but clouds and muted colours. A fog she’d never be able to get out of, no matter how many ophthalmologists she consulted. 

She brings her hands to her face, the phantom burn of acid tearing over the bumps of her scarred skin as her throat tightens, her heart speeding up. Her mind’s eye was 20/20, suddenly maybe more. She could see the crowd on their feet, hear the thundering applause, feel the weight of the award plaque in her hands. See the shine of the gold medal as it extended towards her, only for a collective gasp to draw her attention away, away from her joy and towards a man’s face twisted in disgust and anger, the open jar in his hand flying towards her--

“Baby, baby, breathe. Breathe.”

Sasha blinks at Anetra’s voice. The music that had been playing on the radio came to an abrupt stop. Chopin’s Grande Polonaise Brillante. The piece she’d been trying to forget for three years. 

“You’re safe,” Anetra repeats, “It’s okay. I’m here.” 

Sasha feels the phantom pain fade, replaced by the prickle of hot tears at the corner of her eyes. It strikes her as incredibly ironic in a cruel way--of all the things that attacker had taken from her, he had somehow managed to miss her lacrimal ducts. Or maybe the surgeons had just saved them. She supposes she should be thankful--no, knows she should be. And she is, most of the time. 

It’s just that right now, she feels ugly all over again.

Sasha’s psychologist had encouraged her to start listening to Chopin again about six weeks ago. It had been extremely difficult at first; she barely made it through half of the Wrong Note Etude before Anetra had to step in and help Sasha calm down. But it had worked—slowly but surely, with Anetra by her side, she could make it through a playlist without needing to do much more than deep breathing. And even though sneak attacks from the radio were difficult, just picturing Anetra leading her through a breathing exercise was enough to help her come out the other side unscathed. 

“Would it help if I hold you?” Anetra asks, as if the answer isn’t almost always yes. Sasha nods anyway, leaning in for Anetra to wrap her in a hug.

“We can reschedule, you know--if it’s not a good day, I mean.” Anetra says quietly after a few minutes, stroking her fingers through Sasha’s hair like she knows she likes. It’s a tempting offer, but Sasha just shakes her head.

“We already reserved the music room,” she sighs. “Besides, if we waited for a good day…”

Anetra nods, not even needing Sasha to finish the sentence. They set today to reach this goal so that there would be a firm time, less room for Sasha to second-guess and back out just like the last two attempts.

She’s made up her mind--for better or for worse, she’s going to sit at a piano today.

“I think I’m okay now,” she pulls away from Anetra after another minute, heaving herself up to stand again. “I’ll go get ready.”

--

The drive to the community centre is relatively short, but feels like an eternity for Sasha. They drive in relative silence except for the occasional yawn or sneeze from Sasha’s guide dog Busby, a chocolate lab with as much personality as Sasha and Anetra combined. They don’t dare put on any music for fear that something upsetting might come on the radio, and Sasha can’t think of much to say, anyway. So she reaches her hand out into the back row for Busby to move towards and hit his snout up against, allowing the cold, damp feel of his nose to ground her. 

“We’re here,” Anetra advises as they turn into the parking lot, and for a second, Sasha falters. They’re doing this, they’re really doing this. it’s freeing to think of, yes, and she’s proud of herself, but… The battle’s not over yet. They’re still in the parking lot. They have to actually walk in, have to actually open the door to the music room, have to actually walk up and sit down and then what if the piano bench isn’t big enough for the both of them, what if there isn’t even enough space for Busby to sit by the piano and he has to stay by the door and so she’s trapped, trapped sitting on a bench because she doesn’t know her way around the room and Anetra will be far and Busby will be far and it’ll be a disaster--

“Hey.”

Sasha jolts to attention at the sound of Anetra’s voice and the feeling of her wife’s hand on her shoulder. 

“The room has an upright, I think it’s a Yamaha. It’s arranged on the far side of the room so there’s room to move around freely. The piano bench fits two and Busby can sit beside you.”

“How did you--” 

“I know you is how,” Anetra laughs. “I visited the room last week just to make sure all the logistics would be smooth for you. For us,” she adds, moving her hand down to grab Sasha’s and give it a comforting squeeze.

“I love you,” Sasha sighs, the warmth of gratitude and affection flooding her chest.

“I know,” Anetra says, and Sasha just knows she’s smiling. 

They walk into the community centre together, Sasha holding Anetra’s hand in an iron grip. Even though she can’t technically see, Sasha swears she can feel a million pairs of eyes watching them as they move through the building. She can’t decide which of her insecurities is worse; the bitter anger that people might see a mangle-faced freak with a victim for a partner, or the painful dread that they might see her as a pitiful charity case with a saint of a wife. If they even see Anetra that way; Sasha swears that every time they’ve been out since they came back from Poland, people have assumed Anetra was her aide instead of the love of her life.

“We’re here,” Anetra gives Sasha’s hand one more squeeze as they come to a stop, Busby guiding Sasha right to the door of the music room and pointing his nose to indicate the location of the doorknob. Not that he needs to; before Sasha can reach out for it, Anetra has swooped in ahead of her, throwing open the door and stepping aside with a theatrical ‘ milady.’

“You’re such a dork,” Sasha snorts, giggling a bit despite herself as she steps inside. It’s strange; maybe it’s because she can’t really see, but as she’s walking deeper into the room, nothing plays in her mind and there’s no anxiety in her chest. She knows there’s a piano, yes, but somehow, for a split second, she convinces herself that the room is empty, just a regular room with nothing special or scary in it.

That is until Busby guides her to the piano bench, allowing her knees to graze its edges, and her heart drops into her stomach. 

Breathe, Sash. Breathe . She closes her eyes and inhales shakily, imagining the things that make her feel calm just like her psychologist taught her. Listening to her favourite songs. Red velvet cake. Her family back in Hawai’i. The soft feeling of plumeria petals against her fingertips and sun-warmed sand between her toes. Her and Anetra’s honeymoon in Tahiti, making love under a deep orange sunset. 

“I’m coming beside you,” Anetra warns, careful not to disrupt Sasha’s fragile attempt at inner peace, for which Sasha is incredibly grateful. She relaxes a little further, opening her eyes by sheer force of habit so as not to feel surprised by the sudden warm presence of her wife beside her. 

“Take your time, angel,” Anetra murmurs, reaching for Sasha’s hand and giving it another squeeze. “We have the room for an hour, we can just stand here that whole time if that’s what you’re up to doing.” 

“If I do, Dr. Da Luca will make me come back again next week,” she jokes, even though it’s definitely true. Though Sasha supposes that she’ll have to come back next week regardless of whether she succeeds today or not; that’s the key to exposure, Dr. Da Luca keeps reminding her--consistency and repetition.

She’s trying not to think about that right now, though.

“Would it help if we put on music?” Anetra chances, and honestly, Sasha isn’t really sure, but she nods anyway, willing to try. She’s curious, anyway, what kind of music Anetra will pick--Anetra’s a mood-listener, someone who forgoes genre or artist to pick solely based off of the vibe she feels. And considering that Sasha has absolutely no idea what to call the vibe in this room right now, if Anetra can provide some clarification, well. She’s sure Dr. Da Luca would support that. 

“Remember when you taught me this song?” Sasha can hear the grin in Anetra’s voice as Go Tell Aunt Rhody starts playing off her phone, and Sasha can’t help it--she bursts into the kind of laughter she never would have thought she’d be capable of in this moment. 

 “Yeah, I remember,” she rolls her eyes, giving Anetra a playful shove on the shoulder, “It took you three days to get the hands-separate version even remotely acceptable. Which honestly was pretty impressive. Just, you know, for all the wrong reasons.” 

“Hey! I got it in the end, didn’t I?” Anetra protests in mock offense. “Pretty damn well, too, I would say. Hands together, even!” 

“And I was very proud,” Sasha giggles. 

“You know, I think I still remember it, actually,” Anetra continues pensively. “Move over, let me check this out--”

Before Sasha can even think about what’s happening, Anetra is plunking her way through something that sounds more like one of Busby’s more theatrical whines than any song Sasha’s ever tried to teach her. It’s absolute chaos, and as much as Sasha knows Anetra’s doing it on purpose, she also can’t help but try to step in.

“Oh my God, stop, that’s not how you do it--”

“Mhm,” Anetra’s hands come off the piano, her voice smug as it suddenly hits Sasha that she’s not standing anymore. She’s not hovering, not bending over to correct her wife. Instead, she’s… 

“Did I… Am I…?” 

“You did it, baby!” Anetra squeals, practically throwing herself onto Sasha and squeezing her tightly. “I’m so proud of you.

“Oh my God,” Sasha laughs in disbelief. Her heart is pounding, and her throat feels tight, but she did it--she really, actually did it. 

“How do you feel, sweetheart?” Anetra keeps hugging Sasha, holding onto her tightly as tears begin to gather at the corner of Sasha’s eyes again. She knows they’ll spill over if she tries to speak, so instead, she just puts her head on Anetra’s shoulder, sighing contentedly as Anetra brings a hand up to stroke her hair. 

“Neech?” she finally says after a few minutes, when the beating of her heart has fully calmed and her throat feels relaxed again. 

“Yes, angel?”

“Can you play it again?” Sasha buries her face deeper into Anetra’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of her perfume.

“Oh, you want a little bit more of this?” Anetra’s voice is dripping with mischief as she begins to bang on the keys again.

“Fuck off,” Sasha laughs. “No, for real this time. Just… play it again.”

So Anetra does, and it sounds absolutely beautiful. 

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Sunday 3 November 1833

8 25

1

wild very windy rainy morning F52 ½° at 8 ½ am – at German – breakfast at 10 25 – German till 12 – from 12 ¼ to 12 50 read the morning service – before 12 Mr Browne’s servant brought card of invitation for Mr and Mrs. B- myself and Mrs Stuart Courtenay to Prince Christian’s for tomorrow evening - reading Paul and Virginie (French) till 1 ¼ - at 1 ½ drove to M. de Hagemann’s - found Comtesse Radzinsky [Radzinskij] there the Prussian minister’s wife - Lady Harriet introduced me - Mrs. Browne had done it the day I was presented - Lady Harriet went with me, and picked up M. de H- by the way and he went too to the Russian baths to see Miss Gall’s apartment - very nice one - should like it, if they do not ask too much for it - Miss G- pays 550 dollars a year for it - then what will she ask me for 5 months taking into consideration the furniture Lady Harriett thinks 300 dollars will be enough - Lady H- then called with me and we left our cards for Madame de Bille Brahe - then set down Lady Harriet at home and called on baroness [Livingtuin] and her daughter for about 10 minutes - then sat 11/4 hour with Mrs. Hage and then near ½ hour with Madame Pauli - made a grand mistake in supposing the music of Robert le Diable by Rossini! by Meyrberg [Meyerbeer] - fine but laboured - got over my blunder as well as perhaps such a blunder could be got over - what in the world do I know of operas? I suppose I shall learn enough of these matters in time - Mrs Pauli a nice well informed agreeable person - how strange if I should after all travel with Mrs. Hage! and it may be   I should like to know her income first  the Bluchers don’t know it but think her comfortably off dinner at 5 in an hour - till 7 20 wrote 1 2/3 page more to Lady S- of my letter dated yesterday but written on Friday - dressed - off to M. de Hagemann’s at 8 20 - found only the Spanish minister, M. Arana, there - soon came Messrs. Glinker and Dashcoff, Bielca [Bielke] (very tall) and another the Comte ...... with a gold star or cross - minister of the home department? then Messrs. Oxholm, Vitteky etc to the No. of 11 - tea at 9 ¼ then came Comtesse Blucher and Miss Ferral they and I and the 2 Russians and Messrs. Vitteky and Oxholm staid - supper at 10 50 - came away at 11 ¼ - set down Comtesse B- and Miss F- and home at 11 ½ - somehow the evening was heavy Dashcoff a peswit and he and countess B-    she very quiet   made all the play   there were too many men for me   nothing but nonsense talked  I was tired tho’ I laughed and seemed very happy   I think I could amuse parties as well as that to me it was sstupid rainy windy day with a gleam or 2 in the morning before 1 ½ - F56° now at 12 ½ tonight - Madame and demoiselles Huygens (Dutch Minister) left cards for me this evening or perhaps in the morning while I was out

[just-a-quirkless-loser]

What Did I Do To Deserve You?

ITS WHAT!?!

Alpha Dabi x F! Omega Reader

Words: 2.5K

Summary: Dabi finds out it’s your birthday

Soundtrack: ‘Safety Net’ by Ariana Grande ft. Ty Dolla $ign

Cuddling with your alpha, Dabi, is always the best. His smokey scent always engulfs your entire being as his strong arms keep you grounded against his chest. He always looks at you like you’re the best thing on this planet. Although, his snuggles are the least of your concern right now. 

Right now, you’re trying to figure out how you’ll survive another minute of the cuddling position he has chosen for this moment. He’s sitting on the couch with you straddling his hips, your body arched into him as he keeps on hand settled on your ass. The other hand is fumbling with a Wii controller, clumsily playing bowling. It’s actually kinda cute how much your alpha loves to play video games (you hypothesis it may be because of how he was treated as a child but, Dabi barely talks about his childhood nowadays). 

The problem, however, is that your alpha has decided to make you suffer. His hardness grinds into your core every time you try to move. You swear up and down in your mind that he does this on purpose to torture you for going to work every day. It’s pure agony laying there, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter after each second. 

Dabi, on the other hand, is having the time of his life. He enjoys the way your core radiates warmth on his dick. Plus, you’ve been at work so much lately that he’s barely had you to himself for longer than an hour before you retire to your shared bedroom and pass out from exhaustion. Your asshole boss has been keeping you in the office longer since you have a big project coming up. 

The alpha within him hates being separated from his omega but, he understands that you need your own independence. Thus, having this Thursday morning with you all to himself has made him incredibly happy. He thinks for a moment that maybe you might be sick (you only ever call out of work if you physically can’t make it) but you show no signs of illness. Then, his mind rejoices at the idea that you’ve finally agreed to quit your stupid job and allow him to provide for you; you quickly shot down this motion and told him you simply wanted to relax for once. He pouts. 

“I’m not giving up hope,” you giggle and kiss his cheek. Kissing him on the lips would be a dangerous game right now. 

“I’m sure you won’t, alpha,” Dabi’s nose flares. Glancing down at you, he runs his tongue along his teeth. Goodness, how have you survived this long in his lap? 

Your starting match with your mate is cut short by your phone ringing. You flick his nose on your way up and yelp as he swats your ass in retaliation. You look back to glare at him but he’s innocently looking at the t.v., looking up at you with puppy-dog eyes. Sometimes you truly cannot believe this same man works for the League. 

“Hello, Momma,” you sigh a bit as you answer the phone. You didn’t expect her to call you. 

“Y/N!!! Happy Birthday, my beautiful girl. How are you enjoying it?” you can hear Dabi pause his game. You silently curse your mother for finally deciding to be attentive to you.

“It’s going good, momma. I took off of work for the day,” by now, Dabi is silently staring at you. His tall figure looms over you as he mouths ‘birthday’ to you. You nod your head, wondering for a moment how the fuck his hearing is so good. 

“You deserve it. It’s such a beautiful thing to turn 17,” you sigh once again. You suppose you were asking too much for your mother to remember your age in addition to remembering the day she pushed you out of her vagina. 

“Momma, I’m turning 20,” you try not to let her ruin your mood. You try to be thankful that she’s at least making an effort. On the other hand, Dabi looks at the phone in disgust. You’ve never really told Dabi about your childhood but, he had picked up over time that you were in the same boat as himself.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry. Time is flying by so fast,” you just shake your head.

“Yeah, it really is. I have to go, ma. I’m getting ready to go do some shopping. I deserve it.”

“Yes, yes you do. I love you, Y/N,” you can tell she feels bad.

“As I do you, momma,” you end the call. You know it must hurt her when you don’t tell her you love her back but, you’ve never been able to tell her that. You care for her but, it’s so hard forgiving her. 

“IT’S WHAT!?!?!” ahhh, yes, you now have to deal with Dabi. It’s actually kinda funny how your birthday has just now dawned on his mind. However, you don’t dare laugh because you already know he feels bad enough for not knowing in the first place. “Omega, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I don’t normally celebrate it. My boss normally gives me the day off no matter how much I protest. I just wanted to spend the day with you,” you relish in the warmth of his palm as he starts to stroke your cheek. You stare into his deep, cerulean eyes, feeling yourself get lost. “Don’t feel bad, alpha. It’s not that important.”

“IT IS IMPORTANT,” he snaps a bit, nuzzling your head. “It’s the day you were born to be mine. I don’t know what I’d be without you.”

“You’d be the same, just a bit more aggressive,” you giggle. You have no doubt in your mind that your alpha would be single without you. It takes a special kind of person to deal with your Dabi. 

“That’s beside the point. Why didn’t you celebrate your birthday?” your eyes narrow as he speaks in the past tense.

“I DON’T celebrate it because I never got into it. I never really told you this ‘cause uh,” you rub the back of your neck in embarrassment. You know that you owe it to him to at least give him a good explanation. “Growing up, my parents were on really hard drugs. I mostly tried to avoid being in the house after things got bad so I was out working most of the time, trying to survive. I never really noticed my birthday since, you know, I was too preoccupied with taking care of myself. Then, the years started going by too fast till I just gave up trying to celebrate.”

“Y/N, Omega, look at me when I say this,” he cups your face in his hands, his nose rubbing against your, both of your eyes staring at each other. “Never feel ashamed of your past. Never feel ashamed to tell me things about yourself. I will never judge you. I love you so much, baby. Never forget that.”

“Yes, alpha,” and the matter was forgotten in your eyes. For the rest of the day, Dabi treated you like a queen (although, if you’re being honest, it didn’t really feel any different from how he normally treats you. If anything, he didn’t even let you walk). That night, he cooked you dinner and played with your hair the way you liked as he lulled you to sleep.

Once he was sure you were asleep, Dabi crept out of the bed. He watched you for a moment as you whined, hand-stretched out searching for your alpha. Your hand soon found his scented pillow and you decided it would be your ‘faux’ Dabi. It was adorable. Dabi made sure to snap a few pictures before sneaking out to the living room to make his call. 

“Dabi, this better be fucking good. It’s booty-call hours and I know you’re not calling me for that….unlesssss?”

“Giran shut the fuck up and listen. I want to use some of my money to take Y/N on a small trip for her birthday. Not too extravagant. She hates shit like that,” Dabi was already regretting calling the man. 

“When’s her birthday?” Dabi could hear Giran shuffling around with a piece of paper. He could imagine he was probably writing down information. 

“It was today. She just t-”

“What the fuck, Dabi?!?! How could you forget her FUCKING BIRTHDAY?! SHE’S THE BEST FUCKING THING YOUR SORRY ASS IS GONN-” Dabi had to cool the rage of his inner alpha.

“She just fucking told me, you old, senile bastard. She wasn’t even going to tell me. I found out because her good-for-nothing mother called,” Dabi was pinching the bridge of his nose. He was still pissed you hadn’t shared something so important with him. He was even more pissed at himself for not realizing sooner. 

“Oh...my bad. How soon do you want the plans to be made?”

“As soon as possible. I don’t care how much money it costs to get reservations and shit. I just want to treat her the way she deserves. Also, tell Shigaraki that I’ll be out of commission for the days you book. I mean it. None of you better fucking call me,” his voice dropped an octave. “This is my omega’s time. I’ll let you sorry fucks die if you’re stupid enough to get into trouble while I’m gone.”

“Geez, I get it. I’ll tell the others. If it’s for Y/N, we’ll lay low for a few days,” you had managed to weasel your way into the hearts of the group. Every time one of them had come to your home pleading, you took care of them. Hell, even Shigaraki tolerated you. 

“Thank you,” Dabi meant it. “I’ll let you get back to your sleep.”

Then, he was back in the bed with you. You knew nothing of what had happened and he couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when he told you of the plans he (well, technically Giran) made. 

                                                          ***

“Hell no,” why did you have to be such a difficult omega? “I have a job, Dabi.”

“Baby, it’s only a few days. I know you have more than enough vacation days saved up. Just let your daddy take care of you,” you blushed hard. You had been getting ready for work when Dabi told you he had planned something for your birthday.

“Dabi, I can’t just not show up to work. Plus, I have work to do for this project,” you went to step around your alpha when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his chest.

“No, you don’t. I already asked your boss and he said you can come. It’s only for a few days babe. I promise you’ll love it,” he was giving you his pout. You turned your head to the side knowing that you would cave in to his demands the longer he looked at his face. You must resist temptation. You must...you must...you...have never seen Dabi look at you the way he is now. He seems so excited for whatever he has planned. You can’t bring yourself to deny his excitement. 

“Fine. What do I need to pack?” Dabi rejoiced in your defeat, smiling down at you. 

“I’ve already packed for you,” your alpha pulls a suitcase from underneath the bed. Ahhh, so that’s where some of your clothes had gone. “I’ve already got the car outside all gassed up, Giran said he’ll drop by to make sure the house is taken care of, and I’ve got your favorite snacks waiting to be eaten by you.”

This man truly loves you with all his being. You spend the next hours napping in the car per Dabi’s request. Even though you’d never admit it, it feels so good to have a break from working in your work cubicle. Maybe, you’ll decide to take a few more days off more often. After you wake up for your cat-nap, you eat your snacks like a good girl, giggling at any of the stupid roadtrip games Dabi comes up with. 

Every time you ask about your destination, Dabi just shoots you a conspiratorial grin and tells you to “enjoy the ride like a good girl.” You squint your eyes at him the first few times as you think about reaching over to grab his dick. You decide against it, your self-preservation telling you that idea may not be the best course of action. 

The day is slowly turning into evening but you don’t mind. The day has been immaculate at your alpha’s side. 

Eventually, Dabi tells you to close your eyes. You do so with no argument, ready to see what your surprise is (at this point, you’ve learned there is no point in trying to protest). You hear the car stop and Dabi helps you out, his hands covering your eyes as he walks you somewhere. From what you can feel, you’re somewhere with gravel. That revelation does nothing to tell you where you are. 

“How much further?” you whine. You’ve been walking for a few minutes now, every so often you stumble over a pebble, making Dabi laugh.

“How do you manage to trip and I’m literally guiding you?” you huff.

“Answer my question fool,” you yelp as Dabi gives you a quick swat to the butt. You rub the sting away and give him an imaginary glare. 

Instead of answering, he uncovers your eyes to the most beautiful thing you've seen in your life (aside from Dabi ofcourse). A log cabin stands in front of you, large windows spanning from the ground to the ceilings. It looks like it may be made of pine wood. Everything looks so polished and poised. But, that’s not even the best part. 

From where you stand, you can smell water. Walking a few steps ahead of Dabi, you can see a beautiful lake behind the cabin, the water glistening as it reflects the setting sun. Hues of magenta, tangerine, and candy apple sprays across the sky. Light is giving way to night before your very eyes and you feel yourself beginning to tear up. The sandy beach feels heavenly on your toes, the air feels calm and fresh, the lake still sparkling. 

You can still hear Dabi behind you as you wrap your arms around yourself. You try to cry silently but, you just end up full-on sobbing. No one has ever done something so thoughtful for you; no one has cared enough about you to do anything like this.

Your alpha doesn’t ask you what’s wrong. He just keeps you against his chest as he lets you deal with your emotions. By the look on your face, he can tell he’s done a good job by consulting with Giran. 

“Thank you.”

“Anything for my omega,” you grin. You’ll have to start letting him care for you more often if this is what he comes up with.

You both walk along the beach, laughing at each other when either of you trip on the mounds of sand. It’s another moment of calm that is reserved for only the two of you. 

“So, you do like the beach?” Dabi looks nervous as he holds you.

“I love it.”

“Good. It’s our beach now,” and, although it sounds innocent enough, you look at him with squared eyes.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I bought the beach,” give it some time to set in. Okay, maybe a few more moments of digestion.

“YOU DID WHAT?!?!”

—————————————————————————-

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[sailorhyunjinz]

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Part III

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ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥: Photographer!Hyunjin x fem!model!reader, manager!Bangchan, stylist!Jisung, agedup!straykids, SMUT, fluff, character driven story, stranger to lovers, summer!au, soft!dom hyunjin x fem!reader, PIV, penetrative sex, protected sex (wow first time writing that, good on ya cher) sexual photos/pictures taken during sex, semi-public sex, orgasm (m/f), cum, fingering, blowjob, light choking, praise kink, handkink??

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oh god this was a fucking pain in the ass to read through i cringed at every sentence so hopefully my pain will be your pleasure

Taking pictures of you - MASTERLIST

ONE｜TWO｜THREE

Unlike any other day you couldn’t get out of bed. A boulder of nervousness plaguing you. Through the cracks of the blinds the sun shined in, small particles of dust floating around your resting figure. You were wide awake yet you felt asleep, your thoughts consuming your mind as the dimly lit room became brighter as time ticked on.

You were thinking, perhaps overthinking. This whole situation with Hyunjin seemed confusing and happened way to fast, your psyche not having a moment to digest the events that unfolded during the last couple of days.

Love was a feeling you were familiar with. You knew how it felt. Those butterflies in ones stomach, fluttering everytime a thought of the person passes through your ones.

You felt the same feeling everytime you thought of Hyunjin.

How his soft lips would feel against your cheek that was hot from just looking at his beauty. How his blond hair falls in his face everytime he puts it into a ponytail, his silver decorated fingers tucking the stray pieces behind his pierced ear. These thoughts alone would make your heart beat faster than ever, you eyes clouding with lust even if you knew that this relationship would be impossible given the status the both of you have in this judging industry.

Pushing the covers aside, you sat up before slowly stepping out, your feet hitting the cold flooring of the apartment. You stretched your arms upwards, feeling your spine extend as you squinted, a ray of sunshine hitting you right in the eyes.

The boulder in your chest didn’t feel any lighter but you still got up, wanting time to fly by fast just so you could see his face once again.

♡

No amount of mindfulness exercises could calm the churning of your stomach. The clock in your living room ticked as you watched it with careful eyes, waiting for the time to hit precisely half past before you got up from the couch and shuffled over to the wardrobe, only being stopped from a pling on your phone.

[Bangchan] y/n! can you come by in about an hour? need to discuss some concept photos, sorry for such short notice ❤️

That’s when it hit you. Bangchan didn’t know anything about this. He didn’t know that you’d seen the photos from the shoot and most importantly that you went on a date with the photographer. You could only describe the feeling as ‘improper’. Bangchan was after all one of the closest people in your life, he made you to who you are today and lying to him felt wrong but you shielded your eyes from the truth as you typed back.

[y/n] soz, got plans

[Bangchan] I don’t see any other meeting scheduled for today?

[y/n] you do know that I have a life outside of work? take the day off Chan, you could use some rest ❤️

[Bangchan] Don’t worry about me! You have fun alright?

[y/n] alright, see you next week then ^^

You clicked on the off button on your phone, making the text messages disappear. Getting paranoid, you plopped down on the couch, thinking about every possible way you could get caught which you’d already been, photos of you and Hyunjin circulating throughout social media but they mustn’t have reached Bangchan just yet. You felt like digging a hole underground, wanting to hide away from all these thoughts. The main thought in your mind was whether or not you understood Hyunjin’s intentions. 

What if this love was one sided? 

Waveing your hand in the air, you attempted to get the mind out of your head as if you were breaking up a cloud of real thoughts. You glanced up at the clock and only then realised that you were running late, as usual.

“Wear whatever you want”

Was what Hyunjin said last time but that didn’t make it easier to choose an outfit. Standing infront of multiple racks of clothing you pulled up the weather application on your phone. “Sunny” you mumbled, making you gravitate towards a beige croptop with white stripes around the neckline as well as a white tennis skirt. Not too dressed up but not too dressed down either, just right. Clothes were flying everywhere when you searched for a pair of white socks to pair with your white high platform sneakers. You put the outfit on, observing yourself in the mirror and smiling, trying to get yourself in a better mood rather than being a nervous wreck. Pulling up your phone, you snapped a picture and sent it to the person who knew best about fashion. Jisung.

[y/n] Sungie! Is this acceptable for a impromptu photoshoot?

The fashionable boy replied minutes later.

[Jisung] oh!! that’s so cute! very much acceptable in my book 🥺

You smiled at his reply

[y/n] phew! good... 

[Jisung] is it a date?

Your fingers froze above the keyboard on the phone. Was it that noticeable? Was this really a date? 

[y/n] no!!!

[Jisung] you sure, i saw those photos on social media. ahh.. y/n dating famous photographers now...

By this point you were sweating bullets. 

[y/n] first of all, i’m not meeting him and second of all, he’s a friend so shut it. 

[Jisung] hahah alright alright... i won’t tell Bangchan

[y/n] you have nothing to tell!! we’re friends just like you and I so be quiet otherwise i’ll come over there with balloons, popping them in your face.

[Jisung] oh wow... im so scared...

[y/n] need to leave, if i hear something about you spreading some rumors i’ll seriously do it.

[Jisung] Photo Attachment.

The photo that popped up was from yesterday and your breath hitched. You couldn’t help but to notice the way Hyunjin was looking at you, his eyes filled what seemed like adoration. 

[Jisung] yeah because that totally doesn’t look like a date

[y/n] DON’T TELL BANGCHAN PLEASE

[Jisung] oh so it is a date? alright, i won’t! have fun and be safe

[y/n] be safe? we’re taking pictures, not drag racing

[Jisung] hahah stop playing innocent

Your eyes widened in realisation.

[y/n] you crazy fucker

[y/n] I WILL DESTROY YOUR ENTIRE WARDROBE IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP I DON’T SLEEP ON THE FIRST DATE

[Jisung] Whatever you say

Thanks to Jisung you were now running dangerously late leading to you snatching objects from all corners of the apartment before ordering a cab that would arrive in minutes.

♡

“We’ve arrived, miss” the cab driver says, smiling at you through the rear-view mirror. You thank him and step out of the yellow car, a smell of car exhaust hitting your nose. The cab drives away, leaving nothing but a small cloud of smoke. You looked up, almost not seeing the tip of the building as the skyscraper towered over you. You’re beside the busy road, mouth agape. You’d walked by a couple of times but knowing that you knew the person that owned at least a bit of the building made you giddy. 

You walked in and was greeted by a grand lobby, a front desk as big as the wall behind it. The entire place was filled with people, everyone from business men in suits to trainee models in the most flamboyant outfits. Fishnet stockings, heavy chains and distressed jeans that consisted of more air then jeans material. The sun shined through the many glass panes that made up most of the ceiling and the slight breeze of the air conditioner made this whole vibe of the building comforting. 

“Hi! y/n y/l/n, meeting Hwang Hyunjin” you say to the receptionist that was a relatively old woman, probably in her early 60′s. She was wearing a white button down shirt with her hair in a high bun, a couple of gray strands sticking out. Her red painted mouth contorted into a smile. 

“y/n, Hyunjin said that you could make your way to his office without the guards. You must be a close friend” 

You smiled shyly with your warm cheeks, looking at either side of the desk where two tall buff men were standing, wearing walkie talkies on their black vests. With a small nod, you started speaking. 

“W-where exactly is his office?”

“Floor 20, his main office is in room 03″

“Thank you!” 

You quickly shuffled over to the elevators, pushing the button that lit up with orange light emitting. 

PLING

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped inside, a couple of office workers joining you and pressing the necessary buttons to make the elevator lift off. 

You step out at the 20th floor, looking around at all the intricate wall design, everything inspired by ancient greece which explains the broken vases that were scattered across the hallway in the most unconventional places. They were all encapsulated with glass and standing on tall white pillars, the vases looking rather sad, being in a spectra of ashy grey colors, every single one of them falling apart. 

Stopping, you observed this one vase that caught your attention. It had swirly details around the edge and was shattered in a rather beautiful way. It made you think how even the most broken pieces still carry beauty, beauty unique to only oneself. 

“It’s pretty right?”

The voice sounded familiar and warm, almost as if it had anticipated your arrival. 

“y-yeah, it really is” 

You say turning around, nearly jumping up on the wall when seeing the figure that looked back at you. It was Hyunjin.

Yet again, his presence was astonishing. Everytime you met him it felt as if you’d met him for the first time. The blond boy was standing tall in front of you, wearing a black hoodie, black basketball shorts and a matching headband. A backpack was thrown across his one shoulder and a smaller camera around his neck, everything about his appearence looking completely different from the last time you saw him, his style usually more sophisticated. 

“On your way to meet me, yeah?” he asked and you nodded shyly. 

“My office is the other way, you know?”

You lifted your gaze to look at the tiny sign on the wall that pointed in two directions, you were walking down the hallway for offices 20-40 by accident and you smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of your head. 

“I didn’t know heh...” 

“It’s alright! Come with me, I was on my way to the studio”

“What room is that? Your office?”

“No, the room next to my office, come! I’ll show you!”

He grabbed your hand and you felt your body stiffen as he dragged you down the hallway, his hand not being decorated with statement rings this time, instead feeling soft and warm. You blanked out, your legs walking by themselves. 

He stopped at a brown door, a tiny gold sign saying « 04 » and beside it a transparent sign stating that this was a photography studio. Hyunjin opened the door and dragged you in, closing the door behind you.

A cold wind hit your warm body, the air conditioner blasting it’s breeze with a faint sound. The room was wide, one wall being made completely out of glass, stand close enough and you could peer down the bustling city filled with people, cars and buildings. The typical photoshoot setup was already in place, the camera being propped up infront of a white backdrop, a white pilar in the middle and two boxlights standing unlit behind the camera. In the corner stood a vintage brown leather couch, the swirly metal details were concealed with a layer of chipped gold paint. Beside the couch stood a simple white table. A black bucket rested on the floor and upon closer inspection you noticed plants, multiple stems of eucalyptus poking out, wrapped in cellophane.

“What are these for?” 

You sat down on your knees infront of the bucket while Hyunjin was pressing buttons on the camera that was screwed onto the tripod before walking over to the table and placing down the camera he had around his neck, his backpack lying lazily on the floor. He looked at your crouching figure, the corners of his lips going upwards.

“I thought they’d suit you”

You held in one of the stems, turning your head and looking at his shy smile, his dimples sitting playfully on the sides of his cheeks. You giggle, standing up and leaning against the white pillar, holding the plant in your both hands. 

“Do they?”

Hyunjin walked towards the steadied camera, bending down and peeking through the lens.

“They do”

click

Your eyes widen, him snapping a picture without you paying attention.

“Hey! I wasn’t even prepared!” you chuckle, pointing at the blonde boy with the long plant that was dripping at the stem. 

“Nature is a bit more beautiful when caught off guard, don’t you think?” Hyunjin says, his honey-like voice, echoing through the room.

You nod, staring down at the leafs of the plant, rubbing them between your thumb and pointer finger. 

click

click 

click

“Try leaning with your butt against the pillar and with one foot fully on the side of the pillar”

You did as he told, the pillar being surprisingly stable.

“Tilt your head and look down to the right”

Once again, you follow his instruction and he hums in satisfaction before pushing the button on the camera twice.

click

click

Your warm face turned into a smile, laughing loudly from embarrassment when he observed the pictures on his display. He snickers quietly from shyness, a faint blush brushing across his features as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. Hyunjin peeks up from the camera, seeing you looking down at the backdrop that was filled with ashy grey shoeprints. 

The sound of his footsteps got closer until you saw them in your periferal view causing you to look up at his tentative face. He smiles, displaying his pearly white teeth and crescent shaped eyes before stretching his hand out, feather light fingertips grazing your hot cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, your dainty gold earrings now visible. Hyunjin’s hand lingers on your jaw as he looks at you with a gleam in his eyes, you gulping loudly as your gaze lowers to his pouty pink lips. Leaning forward, Hyunjin tilts his head, attaching his lips onto yours, your heart skipping a beat from the comforting feeling of having him close to you. 

You drop the fragile twig on the floor, kissing him back by pursing your lips and tilting your head as well. The romantic tension that has been bubbling on the surface everytime you met had finally subsided, now the air overflowed sexual tension. 

Cupping his blushed cheeks, you deepen the kiss my licking his plump bottom lip, coaxing his tongue that eventually slipped into your mouth. His hands were firmly planted on your waist, pulling you closer to his body that radiated heat in the already scorching summer weather. 

The two tongues danced around in a impatient manner, the two of you dreaming of this moment since meeting. Hyunjin’s hands roamed over all the valleys of your body, placing his hands on the bottom of your butt, pulling you even closer, close enough to feel his semi-erection against your abdomen. Your eyes spring open in realisation, your body melting in his arms as you felt the effects of the deep kiss, the effects being you unable to control the wet patch that was forming on your underwear, nothing but the thin fabric seperating it from the air due to you wearing a skirt. 

Pulling away from the kiss, your hot breath and a line of saliva was the only thing that seperated you and Hyunjin. You shielded your face from his twinkling eyes, you glancing at the blonde boy through the gaps between your fingers. His two hands grip your wrists, pulling your hands down as he smiles widely

“Don’t hide that pretty face”

Hyunjin giggles, your chuckles following shortly after. The boy grips your wrist tightly, walking backwards as he looks intensely into your eyes, his back falling against the couch as you sit down on the couch on your knees, he looks at you for a moment before attaching his lips again, pushing you down and hovering above you. The wet sounds of the sloppy kiss fills your ear, you helplessly rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. His fingertips trailed down your chest, tracing small circles on the inside of your thigh before plunging down under your skirt, grazing the wet spot on your underwear. The both of you smile into the kiss. 

“Can I?” Hyunjin says, momentarily pulling away from your sweet lips and tugging on the edge of your panties. You nod shyly, not believing that this is happening. 

His lanky fingers run up and down your wet folds as you put your hand at the back of his neck, pulling his blushing face closer to yours and pursing your lips to kiss him sensually. Hyunjin’s fingers gently brush up against your clit that was swollen from excitement, sending shivers down your spine. 

You knew this was wrong, the door wasn’t even locked meaning that anyone could walk in at any moment but the way lips felt on yours made a thousand fireworks ignite, sparking from your chest. Wrapping your hand around his wide wrist, you guide his fingers down to your sopping entrace, your entire body craving him inside of you.

Hyunjin places once last peck on your soft lips before looking at you with concern, asking for permission with his fluffy brown eyes. You nod, your eyelashes gently fluttering over your eyes. His middle finger slips into you with ease, shortly followed by a second finger from seeing how good your cunt swallowed his digits, your essence coating them. A faint gasp escapes your lips as his fingers felt around your velvety walls, the whole situation still feeling like a dream. 

“D-does it feel good?” 

“mhm!” you hum, nodding your head as your grasp around his wrist tightens everytime he curls his fingers upwards. Small whimpers came from you as his fingers started pumping in and out, the blond boy chuckling at your reaction. 

“Did you think I was innocent?” 

The question lingers in the air as you look at him in the eyes.

“Y-yes,,,” just as the question you let the answer hang in the air as Hyunjin hummed, being knuckles deep into you and curling his fingers upwards once more, making you choke on your own moan. Hyunjin nodded slowly, glancing down at your body as he thought.

“It’s because,,, because you’re shy,, different from the others.” You added quickly, filling the silence that was soon interupted by your whimpers as the so called ‘innocent boy’ started circling your sensitive bud with his thumb. 

“I think you’re different from the others, you make me like this baby”

Hyunjin said, seconds later crashing his lips against yours, his tongue attacking yours. He retracted his fingers, the tips coated in your juices and glistening in the sunlight. You whined inbetween kisses, the feeling of being empty leaving you disappointed. Hyunjin’s veiny hands trailed up your stomach, pulling the croptop up and resting it just above your boobs, your white bra exposed. 

Hyunjin pulled away from the kiss, the both of you breathless as the kisses you exchanged were anything but light. His two damp fingers made their way to his mouth, licking them with a slight smirk on his lips. You could go crazy from the sight alone, his big brown eyes turning blank with lust. Not being able to control yourself any longer, you sat up on your knees and pulled off the top, unclasping your bra while you’re at it. As the fabric hit the floor, Hyunjin’s eyes darted to your bare tits, the wind from the air conditioner stiffening your two sensitive buds. You looked at him with a jumbled expression, him staring at your nipples for what seemed like an eternity. You hummed softly, causing him to snap back into reality, the blond boy pulling the black hoodie up from his head, displaying the defined muscles on his abdomen. You wanted him, you wanted him so bad. 

Your knees hit the floor with a thump as looked up at Hyunjin, knealing between his two legs and watching the tent in his loose shorts grow. 

“Do you really want to do this,, y/n,, you don’t have t-”

You hushed before speaking.

“Don’t worry, Hyunjin” you say with a stern voice making Hyunjin shiver, not knowing if it’s from your tone of voice or the way his name rolled of your tongue.

The blonde boy grabbed the small camera that was resting on the table, you looked up at him with confusion before smiling at his pleading eyes that met yours. You nodded, knowing exactly what he wanted to do and giving him permission since you never knew if he’d get to see you like this ever again. 

You hook your two hands on the sides of his shorts and underwear, pulling the fabric down as Hyunjin awkwardly lifts his hips up from the couch for a moment, allowing you to slide the both garments down in one nimble motion. His veiny length sprung out, the tip hitting his abdomen for a moment before resting infront of your eyes, a bead of precum already leaking from his delicate slit. You gulp, the task of sucking him off suddenly seeming daunting. Hyunjin must have noticed since his face turned concerned, a half smile flashing across his lips. 

“y/n,, you don’t have to-aghh!”

Hyunjin was cut of by his own breathy moan, your pursed lips wrapping around his leaking tip, licking small kitten licks before sinking deeper down his impressive length. Hyunjin’s blonde hair fell out of his face when his head rolled back in pleasure, resting it against the back of the rustic couch. 

“f-fuck y/n,,, just- just like that”

He hummed out, his sweet voice intoxicated with desire. Your tongue swirled around his pretty red tip, simultaneously stroking the part doesn’t fit inside of your wet mouth. Multiple shutters of the camera was heard, his hand barely stable enough to hold it due to the pleasure that was shooting through his core. It didn’t take long before his dick twitched against you lips, your cheeks hollowed as bob up and down his girth. His eyes rolled back into his skull as his hand went down to cup your cheek, your eyes stinging with tears as you choked around him. Pulling off with a pop, his dick glimmered as a heavy layer of saliva rested on it, his already warm body turning hotter. He looks down at you, a smug half-smile errupting on his lips as he continued to stroke your cheek, his thumb grazing your cheekbone as he flicked through the photos on his camera, the half-smile now a full on expression of happiness. The two of you sat like that for a while, the silence engulfing the room as you observed his indescribable features. His sharp jawline contrasted with his soft skin that had a dust of rose pink across the cheeks, his moles adding to his charm. 

“Fuck me, Hyunjin”

The words slipped out of your mouth, his brown shiny eyes widening before being overtaken by a blank gaze, placing the silver camera back on the tiny table. 

“You thought I would stop here?”

Now it was your turn to be flustered, his sugary sweet voice interlaced with the cocky words making you even wetter then before, if that’s even possible. Without answering, he pulled you up to the couch by your hand and laying you down before realising what he forgot. The blond boy reached for the baggy backpack laying on the white floor, unzipping the front pocket and fishing out a condom. You nodded shyly, feeling your hands getting sweatier from nervousness, not really sure where to put them. Hyunjin noticed your gaze that was running all over the room, your body slightly tense. The boy snickered, ripping the shiny wrapping open with his hands where veins had started to become apparent. 

“Something wrong?” He asks shyly, placing the condom on his leaking tip before rolling the rubber onto his length. You shake your head.

“J-just thinking,,,” you say, your voice fading out at the end. 

“About?” His voice inhibiting a questionable tone as he holds himself up above you, his elbows on either side of your head. 

“A-about,,, you” 

That was a lie. You thought about how this would end up being disclosed to your company and your friends, Felix would snap your head if he found out that you slept with Hyunjin. Did it even have to be disclosed? Couldn’t it just be a secret between you and Hyunjin? As much as you wish that it could, it simply couldn’t. Not working in this industry. 

Hyunjin smiled softly, his hand trailing down the curves of your body before lifting up the fabric of your skirt, his fingers pushing your panties aside and feeling your throbbing pussy once again. His caramel eyes looked into you the entire time. 

Lifting himself up, he positioned the tip of his member at your sopping entrance, you chuckling softly as he gripped your hips but your chuckle was quickly replaced by a loud gasp, his dick stretching out your tight pussy better than you thought. 

“Are you ok, y/n?” 

He said softly, his dick not even halfway in but already jerking from your welcomingly wet and warm cunt wrapping around his crimson tip. You nodded, looking up at him. 

“Pl-please,, keep going Hyunjin”

The blonde boy blushed, his ears turning red. Tightening the grip on your hips he fully entered you, you shutting your eyes tightly from the slightly painful but pleasurable experience. Glancing down at you, he had to use every bit of discipline to not pound into you. In his eyes you looked angelic. Your parted lips that we’re coated by saliva and the way your skirt bunched up around your waist made it feel like torture to be inside of you, not moving to let you adjust to his size. 

“C-can I move?” He asks impatiently to which you smile, nodding and wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer to your warm body. Your breath hitched as he softly wraps his hand around your neck, him thinking he’d gone too far.

“I-im sorry! I-” 

You hush him, placing your index finger over his plush pink lips. 

“I’ll tell you if anything doesn’t feel good, alright?” You so desperatly wanted to place a “baby” at the end of the sentence, that nickname fitted him but being to scared to confess your feelings. Just because he wants you doesnt mean he loves you. Hyunjin nodded like an excited puppy, finally getting the permission of moving and feeling your clenched walls around his length, his one hand still wrapped around your throat. 

His thrusts were slow, filled with passion which only worsened your longing for him, the longing of him being yours. Small whimpers dripped from between your parted lips, the moans being mixed with Hyunjin’s low grunts and sounding like a melody. You peeked up at the model-like boy, his expression being synonymous to pleasure. The movements eventually quickened, his long cock hitting your cervix with every thrust, making you put your hands behind his back, your fingernails digging into his soft honey skin. His previously closed eyes fluttered open, watching you with a soft gaze through his fierce eyes. You smiled and he smiled back before his gaze drifted away from yours.

“Y-you feel so good y-y/n,,, you’re an angel”

Chuckling and moaning at the same time, his praise gave you a sense of security but also a sense of lust, wanting to coax out even more dangerously sweet words from his pretty mouth. 

“Go faster,,, Hyunjin”

You gasped out, the pleasure starting to pick up it’s pace. The sound of skin slapping against each other bounced off the white walls in the big studio, the old sofa creaking ever so often from the blond boys powerful thrusts. Hyunjin would never get tired of hearing you say his name, never. 

The knot in your stomach signaled your impending orgasm as your walls were stretched out. You pleaded him to not stop, your voice sounding frail as you neared your sweet release. The hot tempeture wasn’t helping the situation, sweat beading underneath Hyunjins headband, soaking the two strands of blonde locks that hanged infront of his face. 

“F-fuck,, y/n you’re so pretty with my hands wrapped around your throat, fuck-” 

A loud groan escaped his lips, the pleasure of your wet pussy against his rock-hard length getting too much, Hyunjin having to hold back until you came, not wanting to appear selfish. It wasn’t long until you felt your legs shaking around him, your toes curling as the squeaky sound from the couch increased along with the speed of Hyunjin’s thrusts, the rubber not giving him as much intimacy as he would have liked but the visual of you lying beneath him, squirming away from bliss and softly moaning made up for it. 

“I think- i think I’m cumming, s-shit Hyunjin, I’m cumming”

The words spilled from you, quickly followed by a incoherent mumbling of his name before a wave of hot flashed through your entire body, your walls clenching around him as your erotic juices coated his twitching cock. You held your hands against your face that was lightly coated with sweat but before you could come down from your high Hyunjin pinned your hands above your head by your wrists, him letting out a growl before his cum filled the tip of the condom. The both of you rode out your powerful orgasm, your moans softening as the intense feeling subsided, Hyunjin shivering with his last thrust before pulling out. 

The light sound of the air conditioner was now accompanied with heavy panting, your chest heaving as Hyunjin softly pulled down your skirt and ran his hand through his blonde hair, pushing the stray hairs away before rolling off the cumfilled condom and throwing it on the floor, the rubber landing on the dark clothing that were pooling next to the leather couch. The young boy lays down beside you, your eyes fixed on the ceiling as you faded away in a million thoughts, still trying to process what just happened. You turned your head against his, feeling his lingering gaze on your face and you swore you could hear your heart beat in your ears as his cheekbones lifted, his now cherry red lips turning into a soft smile. 

“Do you like me?” 

You choked on your own saliva, coughing and sitting up in panic making Hyunjin worry, him patting you on the back as he sat up next to you. 

“I-im sorry,, I shouldn’t have- y/n,, so-sorry”

He mutters out as you start laughing, he looking confused at your chuckling figure. 

“T-that’s,,, quite the direct question” you say, clearing your throat before continuing. “I don’t know Hyunjin. You know that this isn’t possible”

You saw his previously twinkling eyes turn blank, his heart sinking. 

“Uhm,,, n-no totally not,,, I just said it to-”

He tried to play cool, brushing off the fact that he didn’t get the answer he so longed for. His gaze turning away from your angelic face.

“But I like you”

You spoke quietly, your voice cracking at the end. Hyunjin turned back to you.

“Why wouldn’t it work then?” he asked with a confused voice. You sighed

“Hyunjin, do you not know who you are? We fucked in a building where you own half of the rights, you work with famous people and your work is in every magazine, don’t you understand?”

He stayed silent for a while, comtemplating on what to say before grabbing your clammy hand. 

“Do you only see me for my career?”

You shake your head, trying to catch eye contact with the blonde boy but failing as he stares down at your small hand in his grasp. 

“Hyunjin, I love you but this feels way to quick,,, I can’t just-”

“I’ve known about you for a while, y/n. Do you know why we even worked together in the first place?” 

Hyunjin speaks calmly, a thin string of sadness threading through his voice. You shake your head, looking at him but he looking away.

“I reached out to Bangchan first”

You weren’t surprised, only confused. What did he see in you? 

“I know it might seem,, rushed! But if- if we both like each other then we can make it work. Please don’t worry about our reputations, you are more than your career y/n even if it means the world to you.”

Hyunjin hesitated finishing his sentence, feeling sick to his stomach from the fear of rejection. You withdrew your hand, instead opening your arms and hugging him to which he smiled and hugged you back, the both of you falling back on the couch facing each other. 

“I think I love you,,, like,,, I really love you”

Hyunjin brushed away a strand of hair from your face, his tender eyes meeting yours. 

“And I love you too, y/n”

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@vogueinnie​ @that-anxious-bisexual @putmetogetheragain13 @hyunsluvv @lawleighette​ @meow-minho @minaamhh @ohmysparkle @hwangi @rindomo @fleeingreality​​​​​​​ @nycol-ie @jisungsplatforms @p0t4t0don14ll @skzstanlol

[poedameronloverx]

General Grandma

Heeey everyone, me again with some more bad writing. This all came from a random idea I had about Leia being a grand-mother to Poe and readers daughter. I started off on a total roll whilst writing it, but then I wasn’t feeling well for a few days and I lost my way a bit so I’m not 100% happy with it but I wasn’t going anywhere with it so I thought that I’d share it anyway.

I hope at least someone out there can enjoy it <3

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Solo Reader

Warnings: Mentions of having a child

Word Count: 8508 - yikes!

Leia Organa had many titles, General, Princess, mum, but her favourite one was now Grandma. From the second you'd given birth to your daughter 3 and a half years previously, Leia was completely smitten with her grand-daughter. Shara Dameron was a little ray of sunshine throughout the base, her energy and infectious laugh kept everyone's spirit's high, especially Leia's. Shara loved her grandma, she wanted to spend time with her whenever she could and could quite often be seen following Leia round base. There weren't a lot of children in the resistance, and the ones that were there were all older than Shara, so she didn't have any friends her own age to play with. It was something that always made you sad, the older kids weren't interested in playing with a 3 year old but she always had her grandma and her favourite droid BB8 to keep her company if you or Poe were busy. Meal times were the best part of the day, if you and your husband were both on base, no matter how busy you were, you made time to eat together and spend time with Shara. She was sat on Poe's lap chatting happily about her morning and how she'd been playing with BB8 and Uncle Finn. She told you in detail about everything they'd done, Poe chuckled and buried his face in her dark curls as she mentioned that Finn had tripped over BB8 and fallen.

“He hurted his hand but I kissed it better for him” she explained

“That was really nice of you” you replied “I'm sure that made him feel lots better”

Poe glanced across the room and smiled as he saw Shara's favourite person approaching.

“Look sweetheart, here comes General grandma!” he said

“Grandma!” she squealed happily

“Hello little Miss Dameron” Leia smiled, taking a seat next to Poe and happily grabbing hold of Shara as she quickly abandoned her place on Poe's lap in favour of sitting with grandma. “How was your morning?”

She launched back into her stories of her morning with Finn, causing Leia to laugh at the details.

“Can I come with you after lunch?” she asked

“Of course you can my darling” Leia replied “I've got you some paper and crayons so you can do that drawing you mentioned yesterday”

You smiled. The resistance didn't always have a lot, but your mother always made sure her grand-daughter didn't go without. They had the most beautiful bond and it warmed your heart every time you looked at them. You knew there was a gap in your mothers heart caused by your brother leaving, but Shara was slowly starting to mend it. Ever since your daughter was born, Leia always made sure, where possible, that one of you or Poe was on base at all times. It was very rare that the two of your would go off on missions together. It was something that put your minds at ease, knowing that if something happened to one of you, the other would still be there for Shara.

Leia had some work to do before she could fully dedicate her time to Shara, but the little girl didn't mind. She happily skipped along next to her grandma, singing away to herself as Leia made her way round base to get a few jobs done. Once the General was finished with her work, she headed back to her quarters to spend some quiet time with her grand-daughter. She set up the crayons and paper on the desk and helped Shara onto the chair.

“I can't wait to see what pictures you draw my darling”

“I'm going to draw the best picture for you grandma!” Shara beamed

“Remember and draw some for mummy and daddy too” Leia smiled “I'm sure they'd really love that”

“Ok, and BeeBee too!”

“Yes I'm sure the droid would love a drawing” Leia chuckled. Shara really was her fathers daughter, she had the highest respect for everyone on base, especially droids. BB8 had loved the little girl from the second she was born, he would sit protectively by her crib whilst she was a baby, he rolled closely behind her as she learned to walk and he played with her when her family members were busy. If it had been anyone else, Poe would've felt betrayed that his droid had a new best friend but seeing his daughter playing with BB8 made his heart feel full enough to burst. Leia always had a smile on her face when she watched Shara interacting with all of the droids, so many people just brushed them off or found them an inconvenience, but not Shara.

Shara jumped off the chair once she was finished her drawing and skipped over to where Leia was on the couch reading.

“This is for you grandma!”

Leia smiled and took the paper from her, there were a lot of scribbles and two stick people. “It's wonderful”

“It's you and me!” Shara replied “Look, that's you there” she pointed at the taller stick figure

“I love it” Leia replied “Thank you, I'll put it on my wall” she stood up and pinned the drawing to the wall of her room “Now I can see it all the time”

Shara smiled, her giggles filled the room as Leia sat down and pulled her into her lap, tickling her as they went.

“Grandma? Can we play dolls?”

“Of course we can” Leia replied, setting her down on the floor, “You grab them and set them up”

Once you and Poe finished work, you grabbed some food for yourselves and Leia and headed to her room. Leia called for you to come in when you knocked. You smiled at the sight of your daughter curled up on her grandmas lap, fast asleep.

“She's been asleep about 20 minutes” Leia said “She had some food a few hours ago”

“Might as well leave her sleeping then” Poe said “She looks content enough. All that time with you must've worn her out”

“Yeah sorry we're later than usual” you replied “We both got caught up”

“Never apologise for giving me longer with my grand-daughter” Leia replied “Every second with her is one to be treasured”

The three of you ate dinner, occasionally chatting about your day but mostly just enjoying spending time together. Once you'd finished eating, you could feel yourself drifting off. It wasn't long until Poe felt your head hit his shoulder. He smiled fondly at you, and then at his daughter.

“What's on your mind?” Leia asked

“Gods I just love them so much Leia. I didn't think it was possible to love this hard!”

“You have two wonderful girls Poe” Leia replied “You're a lucky man, I might be a bit biased though”

Poe chuckled “I'm the luckiest man in the galaxy. They're everything to me”

“And you're everything to them. Y/N loves you so much, I've never seen her as happy as she is when she's with you. And Shara thinks the world of you”

“I'm behind you and my droid on her list of favourite people. But to be fair that's a pretty good list of people to be behind”

“Your mother would be so proud of you” Leia said “You're such a good man, one of the best in fact, and Y/N and Shara are lucky to have you in their life's. We're all lucky to have you!”

Poe smiled as he felt you move next to him, squishing your face into his arm. “Shara might look like me, but she takes after her mother” he said, seeing his daughter was doing the same to Leia's arm.

“My precious girls” Leia smiled, running her fingers through Shara's curls.

“I should probably get them to bed” Poe said, he gently shook your arm until your eyes fluttered open “Come on Sweetheart, we need to head back to our room so you and the little lady can get to bed”

“I can't believe I fell asleep. I'm sorry”

“Don't apologise” Leia said “It's been a crazy few weeks”

Poe took Shara from Leia, letting the little girl shuffle in his arms until she was comfortable. You leant forward to hug your mother. Leia kissed your head.

“I'll see you tomorrow mum”

“Give Shara a goodnight kiss from me”

Shara began to stir as you entered your quarters. Poe adjusted her in his arms.

“Daddy”

“Hey sweetheart, we're going to get you ready for bed now”

“Where's grandma?”

“She's in her room” Poe replied with a smile “You spent lots of time with her before you fell asleep. And you'll see her tomorrow”

“Mama?”

“Mama's over there, checking on BeeBee” he moved so Shara could see you. “Do you want mama to read you a bedtime story?”

“I want story from you and mama” she replied sleepily

“Alright, let's get you changed for bed”

Shara managed to get two stories out of you that night. Her big brown eyes always got you to give into her, much like her father. You watched her for a while after she fell asleep. Even when the galaxy felt like a dark and horrible place, Shara brought such light into your life and to everyone around her. Poe stepped up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“We did that” he whispered “We really made a perfect little human”

“I love her so much”

“Me too” Poe replied “And I love you. And our little family!”

[chiseler]

The Mysterious Death of a Hollywood Director

This is the tale of a very famous Hollywood mogul and a not-so-famous movie director. In May of 1933 they embarked together on a hunting trip to Canada, but only one of them came back alive. It’s an unusual tale with an uncertain ending, and to the best of my knowledge it’s never been told before.

I. The Mogul

When we consider the factors that enabled the Hollywood studio system to work as well as it did during its peak years, circa 1920 to 1950, we begin with the moguls, those larger-than-life studio chieftains who were the true stars on their respective lots. They were tough, shrewd, vital, and hard working men. Most were Jewish, first- or second-generation immigrants from Europe or Russia; physically on the small side but nonetheless formidable and – no small thing – adaptable. Despite constant evolution in popular culture, technology, and political and economic conditions in their industry and the outside world, most of the moguls who made their way to the top during the silent era held onto their power and wielded it for decades. Their names are still familiar: Zukor, Goldwyn, Mayer, Jack Warner and his brothers, and a few more. And of course, Darryl F. Zanuck. In many ways Zanuck personified the common image of the Hollywood mogul. He was an energetic, cigar-chewing, polo mallet-swinging bantam of a man, largely self-educated, with a keen aptitude for screen storytelling and a well-honed sense of what the public wanted to see. Like Charlie Chaplin he was widely assumed to be Jewish, and also like Chaplin he was not, but in every other respect Zanuck was the very embodiment of the dynamic, supremely confident Hollywood showman.

In the mid-1920s he got a job as a screenwriter at Warner Brothers, at a time when that studio was still something of a podunk operation. The young man succeeded on a grand scale, and was head of production before he was 30 years old. Ironically, the classic Warners house style, i.e. clipped, topical, and earthy, often dark and sometimes grimly funny, as in such iconic films as The Public Enemy, I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang, and 42nd Street, was established not by Jack, Harry, Sam, or Albert Warner, but by Darryl Zanuck, who was the driving force behind those hits and many others from the crucial early talkie period. He played a key role in launching the gangster cycle and a new wave of sassy show biz musicals. At some point during 1932-33, however, Zanuck realized he would never rise above his status as Jack Warner’s right-hand man and run the studio, no matter how successful his projects proved to be, because of two insurmountable obstacles: 1) his name was not Warner, and 2) he was a Gentile. Therefore, in order to achieve complete autonomy, Zanuck concluded that he would have to start his own company.

In mid-April of 1933 he picked a public fight with Jack Warner over a staff salary issue, then abruptly resigned. Next, he turned his attention to setting up a company in partnership with veteran producer Joseph Schenck, who was able to raise sufficient funds to launch the new concern. And then, Zanuck invited several associates from Warner Brothers to accompany him on an extended hunting trip in Canada.

Going into the wilderness and killing wild game, a pastime many Americans still regard as a routine, unremarkable form of recreation, is also of course a conspicuous show of machismo. But in this realm, as with his legendary libido, Zanuck was in a class by himself. He had been an enthusiastic hunter most of his life, dating back to his boyhood in Nebraska. Once he became a big wheel at Warners in the late ’20s he took to organizing high-style duck-hunting expeditions: the young executive and his fellow sportsmen would travel to the appointed location in private railroad cars, staffed by uniformed servants. Heavy drinking on these occasions was not uncommon. (Inevitably, film buffs will recall The Ale & Quail Club from Preston Sturges’ classic comedy The Palm Beach Story, but DFZ and his pals were not cute old character actors, and their bullets were quite real.) Members of Zanuck’s studio entourage were given to understand that participation in these outings was de rigueur if they valued their positions, and expected desirable assignments in the future. Director Michael Curtiz, who had no fondness for hunting, remembered the trips with distaste, and recalled that on one occasion he was nearly shot by a casting director who had no idea how to properly handle a gun.

But ducks were just the beginning. In 1927 Zanuck took his wife Virginia on an African safari. In Kenya Darryl bagged a rhinoceros and posed for a photo with his wife, crouched beside the rhino’s carcass. Virginia, an erstwhile Mack Sennett bathing beauty and former leading lady to Buster Keaton, appears shaken. Her husband looks exhilarated. During this safari Zanuck also killed an elephant. He kept the animal’s four feet in his office on the Warners lot, and used them as ashtrays. If any animal lover dared to express dismay, the Hollywood sportsman would retort: “It was him or me, wasn’t it?” Zanuck made several forays to Canada with his coterie in this period, gunning for grizzly bears. Director William “Wild Bill” Wellman, who was more of an outdoorsman than Curtiz, once went along, but soon became irritated with Zanuck’s bullying. The two men got into a drunken fistfight the night before the hunting had even begun. In the course of the ensuing trip the hunting party was snowbound for three days; Zanuck sprained his ankle while trailing a grizzly; the horse carrying medical supplies vanished; and Wellman got food poisoning. “It was the damnedest trip I’ve ever seen,” the director said later, “but Zanuck loved it.”

Now that Zanuck had severed his ties with the Warner clan and was on the verge of a new professional adventure, a trip to Canada with a few trusted associates would be just the ticket. This time the destination would be a hunting ground on the banks of the Canoe River, a tributary of the Columbia River, 102 miles north of Revelstoke, British Columbia, a city about 400 miles east of Vancouver. There, in a remote scenic area far from any paved roads, telephones, or other niceties of modern life, the men could discuss Zanuck’s new production company and, presumably, their own potential roles in it. Present on the expedition were screenwriter Sam Engel, director Ray Enright, 42nd Street director Lloyd Bacon, producer (and former silent film comedian) Raymond Griffith, and director John G. Adolfi, best known at the time for his work with English actor George Arliss. Adolfi, who was around 50 years old and seemingly in good health, would not return.

II. The Director

Even dedicated film buffs may draw a blank when the name John Adolfi is mentioned. Although he directed more than eighty films over a twenty-year period beginning in 1913, most of those films are now lost. He worked in every genre, with top stars, and made a successful transition from silent cinema to talkies. He seems to have been a well-respected but self-effacing man, seldom profiled in the press. 

According to his tombstone Adolfi was born in New York City in 1881, but the exact date of his birth is one of several mysteries about his life. His father, Gustav Adolfi, was a popular stage comedian and singer who emigrated to the U.S. from Germany in 1879. Gustav performed primarily in New York and Philadelphia, and was known for such roles as Frosch the Jailer in Strauss’ Die Fledermaus. But he was a troubled man, said to be a compulsive gambler, and after his wife Jennie died (possibly of scarlet fever) it appears his life fell apart. Gustav’s singing voice gave out, and then he died suddenly in Philadelphia in October 1890, leaving John and his siblings orphaned. (An obituary in the Philadelphia Jewish Exponent reported that Gustav suffered a stroke, but family legend suggests he may have committed suicide.) After a difficult period John followed in his father’s footsteps and launched a stage career, and was soon working opposite such luminaries of the day as Ethel Barrymore and Dustin Farnum. Early in the new century the young actor wed Pennsylvania native Florence Crawford; the marriage would last until his death.

When the cinema was still in its infancy stage performers tended to regard movie work as slumming, but for whatever reason John Adolfi took the plunge. He made his debut before the cameras around 1907, probably at the Vitagraph Studio in Brooklyn. There he appeared as Tybalt in J. Stuart Blackton’s 1908 Romeo and Juliet , with Paul Panzer and Florence Lawrence in the title roles. He worked at the Edison Studio for director Edwin S. Porter, and at Biograph in a 1908 short called The Kentuckian which also featured two other stage veterans, D.W. Griffith and Mack Sennett. Most of Adolfi’s work as a screen actor was for the Éclair Studio in Fort Lee, New Jersey, the first film capital. The bulk of this company’s output was destroyed in a vault fire, but a 1912 adaptation of Robin Hood in which Adolfi appeared survives. That same year he also appeared in a famous docu-drama, as we would call it, Saved from the Titanic. This ten-minute short premiered less than a month after the Titanic disaster, and featured actress Dorothy Gibson, who actually survived the voyage, re-enacting her experience while wearing the same clothes she wore in the lifeboat. (This film, unfortunately, is among the missing.) After appearing in dozens of movies Adolfi moved behind the camera.

Much of his early work as a director was for a Los Angeles-based studio called Majestic, where he made crime dramas, Westerns, and comedies, films with titles like Texas Bill’s Last Ride and The Stolen Radium. In 1914 the company had a new supervisor: D. W. Griffith, now the top director in the business, who had just departed Biograph. Adolfi was one of the few Majestic staff directors who kept his job under the new regime. A profile in the February 1915 issue of Photoplay describes him as “a tallish, good-looking man, well-knit and vigorous, dark-haired and determined; his mouth and chin suggest that their owner expects (and intends) to have his own way unless he is convinced that the other fellow’s is better.” It was also reported that Adolfi had developed something of a following as an actor, but that he dropped out of the public eye when he became a director. Presumably, that’s what he wanted.

Adolfi left Majestic after three years, worked at Fox Films for a time as a staff director, then freelanced. During the remainder of the silent era he guided some of the screen’s legendary leading ladies: Annette Kellerman (Queen of the Sea, 1918), Marion Davies (The Burden of Proof, 1918), Mae Marsh (The Little ‘Fraid Lady, 1920), Betty Blythe (The Darling of the Rich, 1922), and Clara Bow (The Scarlet West, 1925). Not one of these films survives. A profile published in the New York World-Telegram during his stint at Fox reported that Adolfi was well-liked by his employees. He was “reticent when the conversation turned toward himself, but frank and outspoken when it concerned his work. Mr. Adolfi is not only a director who is skilled in the technique of his craft; he is also a deep student of human nature.” Asked how he felt about the cinema’s potential, he replied, with unconscious irony, “it is bound to live forever.”

III. The Talkies

In spring of 1927 Adolfi was offered a job at Warner Brothers. His debut feature for the studio What Happened to Father? (now lost) was a success, or enough of one anyway to secure him a professional foothold, and he worked primarily at WB thereafter. Thus he was fortuitously well-positioned for the talkie revolution, for although talking pictures were not invented at the studio it was Sam Warner and his brothers, more than anyone else, who sold an initially skeptical public on the new medium. After Adolfi had proven himself with three talkie features Darryl Zanuck handed him an expensive, prestige assignment, a lavish all-star revue entitled The Show of Shows which featured every Warners star from John Barrymore to Rin-Tin-Tin.

Other important assignments followed. In March of 1930 a crime melodrama called Penny Arcade opened on Broadway. It was not a success, but when Al Jolson saw it he sensed that the story had screen potential. He purchased the film rights at a bargain rate and then re-sold the property to his home studio, Warner Brothers. Adolfi was chosen to direct, but was doubtless surprised to learn that Jolson had insisted that two of the actors from the Broadway production repeat their performances before the cameras. One of the pair, Joan Blondell, had already appeared in three Vitaphone shorts to good effect, but the other, James Cagney, had never acted in a movie. Any doubts about Jolson’s instincts were quickly dispelled. Rushes of the first scenes featuring the newcomers so impressed studio brass that both were signed to five-year contracts. While Adolfi can’t be credited with discovering the duo, the film itself, re-christened Sinners’ Holiday,remains his strongest surviving claim to fame: he guided Jimmy Cagney’s screen debut.

At this point the director formed a professional relationship that would shape the rest of his career. George Arliss was a veteran stage actor who went into the movies and unexpectedly became a top box office draw. He was, frankly, an unlikely candidate for screen stardom. Already past sixty when talkies arrived, Arliss was a short, dignified man who resembled a benevolent gargoyle. But he was also a journeyman actor, a seasoned professional who knew how to command attention with a sudden sharp word or a raised eyebrow. Like Helen Hayes he was valued in Hollywood as a performer of unblemished reputation who lent the raffish film industry a touch of Class, in every sense of the word.

In 1929 Arliss appeared in a talkie version of Disraeli, a role he had played many times on stage, and became the first Englishman to take home an Academy Award for Best Actor. Thereafter he was known for stately portrayals of History’s Great Men, such as Voltaire and Alexander Hamilton, as well as fictional kings, cardinals, and other official personages. The old gentleman formed a close alliance with Darryl Zanuck, whom he admired, and was in turn granted privileges highly unusual for any actor at the time. Arliss had final approval of his scripts and authority over casting. He was also granted the right to rehearse his selected actors for two weeks before filming began. All that was left for the film’s director to do, it would seem, would be to faithfully record what his star wanted. Not many directors would accept this arrangement, but John Adolfi, who according to Photoplay “was determined to have his own way unless he is convinced that the other fellow’s is better,” clearly had no problem with it. His first film with Arliss was The Millionaire, released in May 1931; and in the two years that followed Adolfi directed eight more features, six of which were Arliss vehicles. He had found his niche in Hollywood.

One of Adolfi’s last jobs sans Arliss was a B-picture called Central Park, which reunited the director with Joan Blondell. It’s a snappy, topical, crazy quilt of a movie that packs a lot of incident into a 58-minute running time. Central Park was something of a sleeper that earned its director positive critical notices, and must have afforded him a lively holiday from those polite period pieces for the exacting Mr. Arliss.

In spring of 1933, after completing work on the Arliss vehicle Voltaire, Adolfi accompanied Darryl Zanuck and his entourage to British Columbia to hunt bears. Arliss intended to follow Zanuck to his new company, while Adolfi in turn surely expected to follow the star and continue their collaboration. Things didn’t work out that way.

IV. The Hunting Trip

It’s unclear how long the men were hunting before tragedy struck. On Sunday, May 14th, newspapers reported that film director John G. Adolfi had died the previous week – either on Wednesday or Thursday, depending on which paper one consults – at a hunting camp near the Canoe River. All accounts give the cause of death as a cerebral hemorrhage. According to the New York Herald-Tribune the news was conveyed in a long-distance phone call from Darryl Zanuck to screenwriter Lucien Hubbard in Los Angeles. Hubbard subsequently informed the press. The N.Y. Times reported that the entire hunting party (Zanuck, Engel, Enright, Bacon, and Griffith) accompanied Adolfi’s remains in a motorboat down the Columbia River to Revelstoke. From there the body was sent to Vancouver, B.C., where it was cremated. Write-ups of Adolfi’s career were brief, and tended to emphasize his work with George Arliss, though his recent success Central Park was widely noted. John’s widow Florence was mentioned in the Philadelphia City News obituary but otherwise seems to have been ignored; the couple had no children. 

V. The Aftermath

Darryl F. Zanuck went on to found Twentieth Century Pictures, a name suggested by his hunting companion Sam Engel. One of the company’s biggest hits in its first year of operation was The House of Rothschild, starring George Arliss and directed by Alfred Werker. The venerable actor returned to England not long afterwards and retired from filmmaking in 1937. In his second book of memoirs, published three years later, Arliss devotes several pages of warm praise to Zanuck, but refers only fleetingly to the man who directed seven of his films, John Adolfi, and misspells his name.

In 1935 Zanuck merged his Twentieth Century Pictures with Fox Films, and created one of the most successful companies in Hollywood history. He would go on to produce many award-winning classics, including The Grapes of Wrath, Laura, and All About Eve. Zanuck’s trusted associates at Twentieth-Century Fox in the company’s best years included Sam Engel, Raymond Griffith, and Lloyd Bacon, all survivors of the Revelstoke trip. Personal difficulties and vast changes in the film industry began to affect Zanuck’s career in the 1950s. He left the U.S. for Europe but continued to make films, and sporadically managed to exercise control over the company he founded. He died in 1979.

In 1984 a onetime screenwriter and film critic named Leonard Mosley, who had known Zanuck slightly, published a biography entitled Zanuck: The Rise and Fall of Hollywood’s Last Tycoon. Aside from his movie reviews most of Mosley’s published work concerned military matters, specifically pertaining to the Second War World. His Zanuck bio reveals a grasp of film history that is shaky at times, for the book has a number of obvious errors. Nevertheless, it was written with the cooperation of Darryl’s son Richard, his widow Virginia, and many of the mogul’s close associates, so whatever its errors in chronology or studio data the anecdotes concerning Zanuck’s personal and professional activities are unquestionably well-sourced. 

When Mosley’s narrative reaches May 1933, the point when Zanuck is on the verge of founding his new company, we’re told that he and several associates decided to go on a hunting trip to Alaska. The location is not correct, but chronologically – and in one other, unmistakable respect – there can be no doubt that this refers to the Revelstoke trip. From Mosley’s book:

“There is a mystery about this trip, and no perusal of Zanuck’s papers or those of his former associates seems to elucidate it,” he writes. “Something happened that changed his whole attitude towards hunting. All that can be gathered from the thin stories that are still gossiped around was that the hunting party went on the track of a polar bear somewhere in the Alaskan wilderness [sic], and when the vital moment came it was Zanuck who stepped out to shoot down the charging, furious animal. His bullet, it is said, found its mark all right, but it did not kill. The polar bear came on, and Zanuck stood his ground, pumping away with his rifle. Only this time it was not ‘him or me,’ but ‘him’ and someone else. The wounded and enraged bear, still alive and still charging, swerved around Zanuck and swiped with his great paw at one of the men standing behind him – and only after it had killed this other man did it fall at last into the snow, and die itself. That’s the story, and no one seems to be able to confirm it nor remember the name of the man who died. The only certain thing is that when Zanuck came back, he announced to Virginia that he had given up hunting. And he never went out and shot a wild animal again, not even a jackrabbit for his supper.”

VI. The Coda

Was John Adolfi killed by a bear? It certainly seems possible, but if so, why didn’t the men in the hunting party simply report the truth? Even if their boss was indirectly responsible, having fired the shots that caused the bear to charge, he couldn’t be blamed for the actions of a dying animal. But it’s also possible the event unfolded like a recent tragedy on the Montana-Idaho border. There, in September 2011, two men named Ty Bell and Steve Stevenson were on a hunting trip. Bell shot what he believed was a black bear. When the bear, a grizzly, attacked Stevenson, Bell fired again – and killed both the bear and his friend.

That seems to be the more likely scenario. If Zanuck fired at the wounded bear, in an attempt to save Adolfi, and killed both bear and man instead, it would perhaps explain a hastily contrived false story. It would most definitely explain the prompt cremation of Adolfi’s body in Vancouver. Back in Hollywood Joe Schenck was busy raising money, and lots of it, to launch Zanuck’s new company. Any unpleasant information about the new company’s chief – certainly anything suggestive of manslaughter – could jeopardize the deal. A man hit with a cerebral hemorrhage in the prime of life is a tragedy of natural causes, but a man sprayed with bullets in a shooting, accidental or not, is something else again. That goes double if alcohol was involved, as it reportedly was on Zanuck’s earlier hunting trips.

Of course, it’s also possible that Adolfi did indeed suffer a cerebral hemorrhage. Like his father.

John G. Adolfi is a Hollywood ghost. Most of his works are lost, and his name is forgotten. (Even George Arliss couldn’t be bothered to spell it correctly.) Every now and then TCM will program one of the Arliss vehicles, or Sinners’ Holiday. Not long ago they showed Adolfi’s fascinating B-picture Central Park, that slam-bang souvenir of the early Depression years in which several plot strands are deftly inter-twined. One of the subplots involves a mentally ill man, a former zoo-keeper who escapes from an asylum and returns to the place where he used to work, the Central Park Zoo. He has a score to settle with an old nemesis, an ex-colleague who tends the big cats. As the story approaches its climax, the escaped lunatic deliberately drags his enemy into the cage of a dangerous lion and leaves him there. In the subsequent, harrowing scene, difficult to watch, the lion attacks and practically kills the poor bastard.

by William Charles Morrow

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

My sources for this article, in addition to the Mosley biography cited in the text, include Stephen M. Silverman’s The Fox That Got Away: The Last Days of the Zanuck Dynasty at Twentieth-Century Fox (1988), and Marlys J. Harris’s The Zanucks of Hollywood: The Dark Legacy of an American Dynasty (1989). For material on John Adolfi I made extensive use of the files of the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts. Special thanks to James Bigwood for his prodigious research on the Adolfi family genealogy, and to Mary Maler, John Adolfi’s great-niece, for information she provided on her family.

[cowb0ygenius]

Interview with Julien Baker | From the Music Desk

Julien Baker is set to release a new album, "Little Oblivions" on Feb. 26. Baker is coming off the heels of her collaboration with Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus in their group Boygenius, and she played at Eaux Claires one year, playing background as Hanif Abdurraqib read poetry. Abdurraqib also wrote Baker's bio for the "Little Oblivions" release and once we started on our shared love for his work, there was no stopping our conversation. -88Nine Radio Milwaukee

[transcript under the cut]

Hi Julien!

Hello Justin!

Hey, how ya doing?

Uh, doing pretty well! Yeah, how are you?

I’m good. Uh, even before going into- even before reading your bio I was going to ask you about Hanif Abdurraqib, and then-

Yeah!

And then I was so fortunate to read the bio [laughs]

I, when he agreed to do that, I was like- [gestures] I was like, emotional? I was like, “I love Hanif!” I actually met- it’s so weird, I like, met/heard, became familiar with his writing, his poetry at, like, a christian writing conference in Grand Rapids?

When?

Um… Oh my gosh, was it 2017? Had to be 2017. Because 2018… yeah. I think it was like a couple of years ago. Um, and then like-

Why were you both there? … Speaking on Christian writing?

Okay so here- the, um, the person who ran it, um, was so sweet, and had like- so we had played there… “we.” This was before I toured with a band. But uh, played with violin. We had played there at this Christian college, um, in Grand Rapids, like just on tour, because whoever ran the events was like- I don’t wanna say “really cool” as if that’s an anomaly for people who- for people of faith, but like-

Sure!

I played there, they had asked Torres to play there, you know-

Hanif was there…

Hanif was there. Yeah, it seemed like the people programming wanted to have a dialogue that wasn’t so- like- the- I don’t- man. It’s funny, ‘cause now I don’t really like using words like “secular.” Um.. [laughs] There’s just this weird otherness, when you call something “secular.” You’re like, “oh…. Secular.”

[laughs]

But uh.. yeah! Just wanted to incorporate, like, non-faith based art as an exploration of like, more abstract ways of how, how we see God?

Mhm.

Umm… like, what that even is? Which I- I like, of course, I was like 20 years old and I was like “THIS IS MY LANEE” Um, I gave at- at that- I’m s- I’m a little embarrassed, but also…. God bless young Julien. I gave like a fucking powerpoint presentation at that conference-

Wow!

AT THAT CONFERENCE, about how [laughs] about how hardcore music, um, was an analog to the tenets of the Gospel.

How so?

Oh my gosh. I don’t know. I-

Hit me with the thesis!

Man, I don’t wanna- I just- It’s funny because I- back then I was trying to have a thesis. And I thought I ha- I had a lot of philosophies to deploy. And now I don’t. [long pause] Uh… Now I don’t. I’m not so- It’s not like I’m not so sure of them but I just have… you know, even back then where it was like this weird disclaimer I would put at the beginning of everything, like, “well I don’t know anything, but what I’ve found and how I understand faith,” and it’s just kind of like… I… I now feel responsible for, kind of, representing an ideology, or trying to pitch people an ideology that was not realistic. [chuckles] Or like-

What was your ideology?

I don’t know! I thought that, that…. [scoffs] It was a lot of stuff. Um, I thought, you know, I thought living out my faith, and- God, this is probably- I don’t wanna do this to another artist, uh, and be like, “Well I really liked what they said, so I did just like them!” Uh, but I- my favorite band was mewithoutYou? And,

Mhm.

It still is! mewithoutYou rocks. Um, but, I like…. Took everything about their ethos and how... Aaron like, characterized God and like the things that they did and tried to apply it to my own life in this way that when I look back on it now was really like- it was like, not that extreme but I wanted to be? You know? I wanted to have like, one shirt.

Oh, yeah.

And to not have- and like, take all the rider food and walk around outside and give it to homeless people.

Yeah.

That’s not- like, okay.

I get that, I get that.

That’s not inherently bad! That is not inherently bad. But, like… I think that I like, hung all of those actions on this belief that like, there was a true- like if I could only just find out what being right is.

Mm.

What God wants. What, uh- how to best love other people. What the right thing to do is.

Mm.

Then I could- and I was like- but you know, it’s because I held all these crazy standards for myself, of being like… ultimately kind? Then when I was like human and I did something shitty, I would have a panic attack about it. You know?

Yeah. Yes.

Like… and, I was just like- but it’s basically so I’m standing up here in a frickin’ tweed blazer, at this Christian conference, trying to be like, “Here’s how I learned love.” Right? Like, “I learned love because people at a church that was a little bit more progressive than the churches I had been to in high school, um, invited me over for dinner, no strings attached, and I was happy that someone was taking interest in me and being kind to me and loving me with no caveat?”

Mhm.

And the other place I found that was.. punk shows. The other place I found that, was, you know, and it was all wrapped up to in like… me being attached to like, straight-edge ideology. Which ha- like, can be useful as like an offshoot of like an understanding of sobriety but also has a lot to do with purity culture? And like… [gestures]

Yeah.

You know? It’s- it’s just- difficult! And so now, I’m like- I just have less to say. You wouldn’t know it ‘cause I just talked, like-

[laughs]

I just had like a 10 minute run-on sentence, obviously. But like, I have- I have less. 

You think that’s ‘cause you have a larger audience?

Woah!

You think it’s harder to say something if you have a larger audience?

…. Oh god. You know what? I was gonna say no, but actually that might be a part of it. Like, I’d never thought of it like that before, but- man. I used to, like, if I were gonna tweet something, something that I f- that I shouldn’t feel so anxious about like, like- tweeting.

Yeah.

Like, first of all, it’s Twi- it’s like an imaginary digital realm. Like, i- it’s powerful! It’s powerful to educate, to organize, to um- you know, especially like...  whatever, I’m not even gonna get off on that, ‘cause that’ll be like the whole interview. But, I would st- I would have to- I would be like visibly sweating and have to turn my phone off if I was just like, “Hey! please like donate to this organization that’s trying to not put children in cages at the border.” But it’s like, why? I have- with my- with the whole fabric of my being believe that’s the right thing to do, and I have this like, “well what if, what if you’re wrong? What if you hurt someone’s feelings?” And I’m just like, dude- I- I- it’s just like, the more people- I didn’t even… When I was a kid, I just wanted to play music, and I pretty much thought that I was going to be a teacher, and then I was going to use summer break to tour with my band. And just kinda be… a thirty-year-old, like, rock chick.

Cool. Mhm.

Who was just… touring bars.

Cool teacher.

And like, I don’t- I don’t know! I didn’t want- but the same thing is, like, I had somebody say to me really early on, I was like- I said to them—it was my friend Ryan Rado, who made the painting for the Turn Out the Lights album cover—I was like, “Man, the most- I feel like the only thing I wanna do with a microphone when I get it is turn it away because I always learned about shows being about… gang vocals! And like-

[laughs]

And that’s kind of- that’s like- that’s literal, but also, it has implications on how you understand… your platform as a musician. It’s like yeah, I’m just, like… you know? All the people watching my band are just the other bands that just played. So we’re all kinda on the same…

[laughs]

…plane?

Uhuh? [laughs]

Um, and it’s like- now- and i- he said to me- he was like, “But you can’t change the fact that you have the microphone.”

Mhmm.

“So you’re going to have to say something into it anyway.”

Yeah.

And then I was like, “Well what do I say?” [chuckles] What do I say if I wanna- if I truly want the world to be a better place. What can I say, to make whoever follows the Julien Baker music account on Twitter-

[laughs]

-think about being a better person! And I’m not- like, it sounds like I’m be- I’m being so mean to myself, because like… that’s true. Like I want to put ideas and links to articles and history podcasts about like- I want to put that in front of the people that trust me enough to smash that follow button. You know? Like-

Yeah.

I- I wanna try. But I… I can’t, like, I think I- I really just wanted to be good. And-

Yeah.

But it’s so… I don’t wanna be like, “it’s hard to be good,” because that’s like a cop out of like, “Well, I should just be average.” [laughs] But like.. yeah man. It’s difficult, to all of the sudden have-

The-

Yeah-

There’s a low threshold for forgiveness on twitter, you know?

Good God, yeah. Yeah.

I mean it’s like that, you know, it’s hard!

Yeah!

I mean I- I- I read a tweet that Hanif liked today, you know it was like in my feed of, like, “Hanif liked this.” And it was like something about Ocean Vuong—who I love—um, but I guess like, Ocean like, said something today or something like that? And then it was like a… there was like a poet that was like, “This should also be a place for learning.” This- like, if someone said something, this should also be a place for forgiveness. And sometimes, we’re- sometimes we’re still figuring it out! And that’s okay-

Yeah!

-And that’s a really tough thing to do.

No, um, Ha- uh, I was just reading like, I think it was Hayley Williams was tweeting this whole long thing about like saying “womxn” with an x? And then like, like all- like, I didn’t even understand it. Like, what was the- I was just like, “okay!” I guess there was somebody that had a problem with this, and then she was just like, “Thanks. Thanks for letting me know that was problematic, I won’t do that anymore.” And I wish- I wish that I… ha- like- maybe I will get to a point where I’m like- It’s like, “I know I’m problematic! I’m- everybody’s problematic!”

[laughs]

But not least of all, me! You know?

[laughs]

Um, but I’m so afraid it’s like I will sit there and concoct what I want to say in an interview, or like- like when I have to do email interviews my manager will send me like four- like, “Hey, you- you really need to get this done”

[laughs]

Because I will sit here for seven hours, in this spot in my apartment, and be like, “That’s not the best way to say that! I could say it better!” You know, I’m just like- and then inevitably I’ll read it the next week and I’ll be like, “still sounds dumb.” Like, I just-

[laughs] You can’t win, Julien!

Can’t win! Yeah but it’s- it’s freeing. Its freeing to know that you can’t win.

For sure. Um- I’m going to have to wrap this up. We’re-

I’m so sorry!

Um- er- I think we have like two more minutes- I know, it’s been a quick 15. Yeah, um, you had said that mewithoutYou is, um, is your favorite band? And I would- I wanna come out of this with a song to play- could you tell me a mewithoutYou song that we can play? And why you like it?

Wowwww… okay. I’m sorry. I’m like a stan of them so I’m like mulling through their entire discography in my head right now.

Sure.

Um- oh my God. You know what? It’s a weird one, and I feel like.. mewithoutYou fans don’t hate me for not saying, like, 19- 1979 or whatever? But… um… play King Beetle and the Coconut Estate. That one’s really cool. It’s about beetles who think that God is like a light and then they all fight it- it’s like a really cool microcosmic little fable that is a really merciful way to look at humans trying to figure out what heaven or god or rightness is. But it’s just little bugs. [laughs]

[laughs]

Talking to each other! It’s really cute. King Beetle and the Coconut Estate.

Perfect

Yeah. Yeah!

Um, and thank you. I mean, that’s- that was the fastest 15 minutes I’ve uh ever spent!

Oh my gosh! We didn’t even- We just talked about a Christian music conference!

[laughs] We didn’t even really like get to Hanif, or-

I’m so- I’m so sorry!

Oh no, oh my God! The best is when you, uh, make a plan and then you throw the, you know, road map out the window.

Yeah!

This is my dream conversation!

Okay! [laughs] Well good! Thank you! It’s been- I’ve enjoyed this conversation quite thoroughly.

Me too! Thank you! Uh- and thank you for the, thank you for the music! Consistently throughout your career, and-

Oh! Yeah, I try!

And thanks for the, for the new record.

[gerrymike]

OK. commentary on my satg playlist. For reasons

lol it wont let me hyperlink but. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0w9pMZtOvP0plqdxT665q7?si=wEFnvdh3Rjaa0p2UX251mQ&dl_branch=1 Plug

1. PIEDMONT (DESTROY BOYS)

Looks like I'm late for the party Everyone knows the attire but me Glass walls separate us Catch a glimpse into different books On different shelves

i.e. teen crisis where u want desperately to live the same life as ppl on the street but also can’t imagine anything worse

2. SWEET ADELINE (ELLIOTT SMITH)

It's a picture-perfect evening and I'm staring down the sun Fully loaded, deaf and dumb and done Waiting for sedation to disconnect my head Or any situation where I'm better off than dead

i.e. she’s alive! is that worse or better. also jfc, you fucking hate hospitals

3. ALAMEDA (ELLIOTT SMITH)

You walk down Alameda  Shuffling your deck of trick cards over everyone Like some precious only son Face down, bow to the champion

also

Walk down Alameda  Brushing off the nightmares you wish Could plague me when I'm awake And now you see your first mistake  Was thinking that you could relate For one or two minutes she liked you But the fix is in

i.e. oops it’s two elliotts in a row, sorry. just. about the connection you can form with someone given just a short period of time, and how sometimes it gets ruined by, like, a werewolf. pretty similar to sweet adeline. mx weisglass gets two songs. plus “precious only son” 😬 “shuffling your deck of trick cards” 😬

4. CAN I PLAY WITH MADNESS (IRON MAIDEN)

Give me the sense to wonder To wonder if I'm free Give me a sense of wonder To know I can be me Give me the strength to hold my head up Spit back in their face

i.e. for Me mostly because i think the whiplash from elliott to maiden is kinda funny. also the gerry VS twisty animosity, in over-the-top wizardy terms. sometimes you are full of hate and that’s OK 😬 

5. ICU (PHOEBE BRIDGERS)

If you're a work of art I'm standing too close I can see the brush strokes I hate your mom I hate it when she opens her mouth It's amazing to me How much you can say When you don't know  What you're talking about

and

I'll climb through the window again But right now it feels good not to stand Then I'll leave it wide open Let the dystopian morning light pour in

i.e. we’re back in london…and, well, yeah. also, song title! we’re still in sacramento, actually, spiritually, at this point in the story

6. CRY FOR JUDAS (THE MOUNTAIN GOATS)

Feel the storm every night Hope it passes by Hallucinate a shady grove where Judas went to die Unfurl the black velvet altar cloth Draw a white chalk Baphomet Mistreat your altar boys long enough and this is what you get

i.e. crew. i think about him

7. IRIS (THE GOO GOO DOLLS)

And all I can taste is this moment And all I can breathe is your life And sooner or later, it's over I just don't wanna miss you tonight

plus

And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am

i.e. OK. OK. OK. yeah, OK. damn right all you can taste is this moment…yeah OK. SONGS5

8. KILL ALL YOUR FRIENDS (MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE)

It's been 8 bitter years since I've been seeing your face And you're walking away And I will die in this place

to

It's been 10 fucking years since I've been seeing your face round here And you're walking away And I will drown in the fear

i.e. ah…the lyrical differences in the chorus…yes…also i love how raucous this song is despite what it’s about. it’s got satg energy!!! “seeing your face”, of course, is not literal 😬

9. ENCHANTING GHOST (SUFJAN STEVENS)

Don't carry on carrying efforts, oh no, oh oh oh oh Somewhere there's a room for each of us to grow And if it pleases you to leave me, just go, oh oh oh oh Stopping you would stifle your enchanting ghost

and

Did you cut your hands on me? Are my edges sharp? Am I a pest to feed?

i.e. 😬😬😬

10. PAUL (BIG THIEF)

In the blossom of the months I was sure that I'd get driven off with thought So I swallowed all of it As I realized there was no one  Who could kiss away my shit

and PARTICULARLY

Well Paul, I know you said That you'd take me any way I came or went But I'll push you from my brain See, you're gentle baby I couldn't stay, I'd only bring you pain

i.e. HARROWING TERRITORY!!!

11. PITSELEH (ELLIOTT SMITH)

I'll tell you why I Don't wanna know where you are I gotta joke I've been dying to tell you

i.e. sorry. a lot of elliott smith on this playlist. thems the breaks

12. OPHELIA (THE LUMINEERS)

Oh, Ophelia You've been on my mind girl like a drug Oh, Ophelia Heaven help a fool who falls in love

i.e. callbacks to SONGS5…! and more pain

13. CLOUDS (BORNS)

I forget all my dreams I forget everyones name I meet I forget about time and space But I can't stop thinking 'bout your face

i.e. tfw your memory’s shit and also you just threw yourself into the sky and you’re still not over it. yowch!

14. ARCADE (DUNCAN LAWRENCE)

Oh, oh-oh-oh oh Oh, oh-oh-oh, oh All I know, all I know Loving you is a losing game

i.e. sorry i heard this song first in a c#tradora edit and i have never recovered.

15. WARS (OF MONSTERS AND MEN)

Yeah, I love you on the weekends But I'm careless and I'm wicked Yeah, I love you on the weekends It's a cruel war I still have pieces of you stuck on me Pieces of you stuck on me Yeah, I love you on the weekends It's a cruel war

i.e. PIECES OF YOU STUCK ON ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is the only song of the new omam i’ve heard. i never got around to listening to it. but this one slaps

16. MONTERO (LIL NAS X)

Lookin' at the table, all I see is weed and white Baby, you livin' the life, but baby, you ain't livin' right Cocaine and drinkin' with your friends You live in the dark, boy, I cannot pretend

AND

A sign of the times every time that I speak A dime and a nine, it was mine every week What a time, an incline, God was shinin' on me Now I can't leave And now I'm actin' hella elite

AND ESPECIALLY

I want that jet lag from fuckin' and flyin'

i.e. God i love this song. re: avatarhood. YOU CAN’T LEAVE!!! not saying it’s like being a celebrity, but it’s like being a celebrity. dual perspectives here with G + his morality regarding the person he loves being, uh, evil? (you live in the dark / i cannot pretend) and M + debt he owes to his god, erosion of his own morals. also, SHEER F*CKING VIBES

17. GEYSER (MITSKI)

You're my number one You're the one I want And you've turned down Every hand that has beckoned me to come

i.e. love songs that serve double as to your god and to your lover

18. THAT’S WHAT I LIKE (BRUNO MARS)

Jump in the Cadillac (Girl, let's put some miles on it) Anything you want (Just to put a smile on it) You deserve it baby, you deserve it all

i.e. this song is here because i say so. a real “sorry it’s been seven years let me make it up to you” vibe

19. RUN AWAY WITH ME (SUFJAN STEVENS)

And I say, love Come run away with me Sweet, falling remedy Come run away with me

i.e. more grand ridiculous propositions. more to come. but they’re born out of a real frustration with the situation at hand! it sucks! also, “falling remedy”,

20. LET’S GET MARRIED (BLEACHERS)

I'm gonna get right for you, honey I'll take all of my medicine, spend you all my money, yeah I know it's hard enough to love me But I woke up in a safe house singing, "Honey, let's get married"

i.e. bro.

21. I WILL (MITSKI)

And while you sleep I'll be scared So by the time you wake I'll be brave

i.e. a lot of these here are self explanatory..

22. ME & MY DOG (BOYGENIUS)

I had a fever Until I met you Now you make me cool

also

I never said I'd be all right Just thought I could hold myself together But I couldn't breathe, I went outside Don't know why I thought it'd be any better I'm fine now, it doesn't matter

i.e. title is significant. and yeah. just. recovery’s tricky

23. I FOUND (AMBER RUN)

And I've moved further than I thought I could But I missed you more than I thought I would

i.e. this is like a staple song for like. basically. any pairing. but i’m pathetic and it gets me every time. there’s something about it. not sure if i’m going to leave it on this playlist but. hm. yeah

OK that’s a wrap. highly likely i’ll put more songs on this as i go

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Drive-In”: A Domesticated Drabble

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 2,542

Genre: Married AU; Prequel

Warnings: Smut and Language

Summary: Y/N isn’t the greatest when it comes to relationships which is why she intends to make her first year with Chan something to remember.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

I was startled by the sudden presence of the shop worker, glancing away from the cake display with full alertness. “I was just looking.”

“Are you celebrating?” she asked. “We can do customization work.”

“Really? It’s for an anniversary.”

“Oh, how sweet,” she cooed, clapping her hands together like she was the one who had hitched herself to a medical student. 

“Yeah, I guess,” I shrugged. In reality, I wasn’t used to this kind of thing considering the fact that my relationships usually never lasted more than a few months. “We’ve been together for a year.”

“Well, that’s a long time,” the worker informed me. “No wonder you’re trying to make it special.”

“That’s the plan,” I joked, even if I was feeling completely out of my comfort zone. Special occasions were often reserved for Chan because he was the romantic one in our relationship. He was the one who was counting, making a big deal out of every little milestone: “Happy two months, Y/N!” or “It’s been six months now, Y/N.” 

I did my best to reciprocate his enthusiasm, going along with whatever plans he happened to be making. For our two month anniversary, I gave him a blow job in the restroom of the movie theatre. And after we got home from dinner to celebrate six months, Chan and I had sex for the very first time in his apartment, throwing Jisung out because Chan’s roommate was incredibly nosy and I was half-way convinced that he got off to the sounds of our fucking. 

“The cakes are baked fresh every day!” the shop worker continued, doing her best to convince me to spend 20 dollars on a fine mixture of sugar, flour, and icing. 

“Give me your biggest one.”

“Sweetie, you didn’t have to,” Chan insisted after I offered him the expensive pastry.

“Happy anniversary or whatever,” I said in return, resisting the urge to show him the receipt from the cake shop because I was half-convinced that they had overcharged me. 

Chan pulled me in closer by my hips, hands enveloping my waist as he kissed me softly. “I have something special for you tonight.”

“A fancy bottle of wine and my face in the mattress?”

“Y/N,” Chan scolded me gently. “We’re going out.”

I was still unconvinced, reaching down to palm his cock over the jeans he was wearing. “Are you sure, Channie? I’ll even ride you if you want.”

“We have plans,” Chan insisted while reaching for my wandering hand. “Go get dressed.”

“Is Jisung here with his latest plaything or something?” I snickered. “You’re awfully persistent.”

“Because I have a surprise,” Chan said, pointing in the direction of his bedroom. “You better hurry, sweetie, we’re leaving in thirty minutes.”

“Well, then you better appreciate a half-assed attempt to look nice,” I told him. “I’m talking Aerospostale instead of Armani.”

“You’ll probably look sexy regardless.”

“Channie, you always know how to stroke my ego.”

Chan must have gotten dating advice from his parents. That’s the only suitable explanation for the nearly vacant drive-in movie Chan was currently paying an entire week’s worth of tips for two tickets. “Chan,” I said, glancing around nervously. “Is this the part where you tell me that you’re a serial killer?”

Chan pulled up to the front of the lot, parking next to one of the rusty speakers twisted into the ground. “Isn’t it great?”

“I guess,” I said, craning my neck to take in the giant screen. “This is revenge for Minho’s frat party, right?”

“I think it’s amazing,” Chan said. “You want anything from the concession stand? My treat, of course, sweetie.”

“You go knock yourself out,” I said. “I’ll just stay here with my phone in case I need to urgently dial the emergency number. How fast do you think the police can get here?”

“Don’t be overdramatic,” Chan said, wrenching open the door to his faded Mustang. “I’ll be right back.”

I shivered, crossing my arms as I slowly counted the number of cars surrounding us: a grand total of four. There were only four other cars here in a run-down gravel lot in the middle of the woods. This was something out of a horror film, a new nightmare directed by Wes Craven. At any moment, I totally expected Jason Vorhees to run out of those trees waving around his machete and, no matter how big Chan had gotten over the summer, I doubted he could take down an immortal monster. “Keep it together, Y/N,” I murmured. “This isn’t the dumbest thing he’s ever done.”

I was pretty sure nothing could ever top our impromptu beach trip for spring break when Chan somehow booked us a room in the basement of someone’s beach house. Concrete floors and walls, exposed pipes and insulation, Chan and I shared a tiny twin bed with eyes wide open as we listened to the scariest noises emanating from the giant furnace. Needless to say, Chan found us another room at the Motel 6, ditching the creepy couple who told us that they couldn’t give a refund.

“Popcorn!” 

I nearly screamed at the sound of Chan’s returning voice, rolling my eyes when he shoved the box at me from across the console. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“What are you so worried about, Y/N?” Chan asked as he shut the door. “The movie starts soon.”

“Great,” I said. “Would it be entirely rude to ask what the hell you paid for us to see?”

Chan shrugged while taking a giant bite of his pretzel. “It’s an older movie, but I hear it’s one of their most popular.”

“Well, if it gives me a couple of strokes, then your ass can drive us to the hospital.”

“It’s not scary,” Chan argued, leaning his seat back to accommodate his view. “I think you’ll like it if you give it a chance.”

“But the very first time I see a fucking ghost or something...”

“There aren’t any ghosts,” Chan said. “Unless we’re talking about the movie with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze.”

“You cry like a little bitch every time.”

“They deserved to be together!”

“Shhh,” I silenced him quietly, moving up in my seat. “Your fifties flick is about to play! Maybe I’ll get lucky and see a nice ass or something.”

“How crude,” Chan remarked, grumpily wiping his greasy hands against his jeans.

“It’s starting!” I cheered, propping my elbow against the console. “Are you excited?”

Chan glared at me as the credits rolled across the screen. “See if I do anything nice for you again, Y/N.”

“I’m trying to appreciate this gesture of love,” I said, pointing at the two characters on screen. “Do you think they’ve ever been to a drive-in movie?”

“Are you gonna talk the entire time?”

“You don’t like my commentary?”

“Unless it’s the director's cut, then no.”

“Channie,” I feigned hurt. “You’ve broken my delicate sensibilities. Wherever will I regain my confidence?”

“You have plenty of that, Y/N,” Chan said.

I looked away from the movie screen, admiring the sharp profile of his jawline. “Have you ever noticed how remarkably gorgeous you are these days?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“That’s a shame because I was hoping to get inside your pants.”

“Watch the movie!”

I grew silent, moving back to my side of the car while sneaking my phone from my side pocket, scrolling through my messages with the screen brightness on low. There were several messages from Minho which I temporarily ignored in favor of the unexpected appearance of Han Jisung’s name. He only ever reached out to me when he was either in desperate need of help or because he heard an inappropriate joke and thought I should know about it as well.

From Jisung

Where does Chan keep his condoms?

I rolled my eyes, deleting the message before tapping on Minho’s contact name.

From Minho

Was Chan’s surprise everything you hoped and dreamed for?

To Minho

He took me to a drive-in theatre

From Minho

If I see your name in the obituary, I’ll let the police see this message.

To Minho

You’re becoming less supportive with each passing day

From Minho

That’s because you just interrupted my hook-up! She fled the moment she saw your name.

To Minho

Then she wasn’t good enough for you. I probably just saved you from months of clingy girlfriend syndrome.

I waited for Minho’s response before an exaggerated moan from on-screen abruptly captured my attention. I looked back at the screen, mouth dropping open as I realized the two main protagonists had progressed considerably in their relationship. “Channie, you didn’t tell me there was porn in this,” I gasped, smirking at the sight of my flustered boyfriend. “Aw, your ears are red.”

“Shut it,” Chan growled. 

“Was this not what you expected?” I asked him, reaching out to trace the outer shell of his ear.

“They did say it had an R rating,” Chan admitted, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

I drew my hand away from his ear, running my fingers down his arm and waist until I found the front of his jeans. “We could have watched porn at home.”

“W-what are you doing?” Chan asked, eyes frantic as they surveyed our surroundings.

“Nobody’s watching,” I said as I tightened my hand around his cock, enjoying his accompanying moan. ��Have you ever had sex in the car before?”

“In my Mustang?” Chan gasped, eyes now shut tightly together as he tossed his head back against the headrest. “These are leather seats.”

“And?”

“I don’t want semen on my leather seats,” Chan complained.

“Relax, Channie,” I reassured him, working my way across the console to sit directly on his lap. “I’ll let you cum inside so it stays in me instead.”

Chan’s mouth fell open at my promise. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Well, good thing I do,” I smirked, reaching into my pocket. “I’m on birth control anyway.”

“Since when?”

“I can’t tell you that,” I said, waving the silver packet in his face. “You’ll get all jealous.”

Chan frowned, eyes narrowed. “Changbin?”

I nodded once. “I thought it was better to play it safe.”

“How fortunate for him,” Chan glowered. 

“I told you not to assume anything,” I said, reaching down to unbutton his jeans. “Now you’re all worked up.”

“Yeah? Talking about your ex-boyfriend does that to me,” Chan said, hissing between clenched teeth when I held his cock in my hand. 

“You don’t see me drooling over his dick, do you?” I asked him, stroking once, twice before ripping open the condom. “Do me a favor, Chan, and be a good boy while I fuck you.”

“What about the movie?” Chan asked breathlessly, watching through half-lidded eyes as I worked the condom down his erection. 

“You mean the porno?” I snickered. “I’ll give you a live sex show instead, how does that sound?”

Chan answer came in the form of a heavy groan as I took him deep inside, shoving my panties to the side to accommodate our coupling. I twisted my skirt up higher around my hips to make sure it was out of the way, allowing us both an intimate view of where his cock disappeared. “Shit, Y/N,” Chan panted. “Are you a voyeur now?”

“Like those couples aren’t doing the same thing,” I said, grabbing tightly to his shoulders for balance. “Now, just relax while your girlfriend makes you feel good, hmmm?”

“Okay,” Chan managed breathlessly while his hands shot out to grab my waist. “Make it fast though.”

“Like anyone will stop us,” I said, sighing happily as I pressed a gentle kiss to his pulse point, tongue tasting the skin of his throat. “But, if you’re interested in testing me, I could probably make you cum in five minutes. Remember the first time you let me touch your cock?”

Chan winced at my words, probably recalling to mind the unfortunate way he had been unable to hold himself together, cumming from just a simple handjob on his bed. “You’ll never let me forget that, will you?”

“Don’t worry, you last a lot longer now,” I said, grinning triumphantly when his moans started to grow louder, circling my hips to grind against his pulsing cock. “I think I’ve thoroughly corrupted you.”

“Yeah?” Chan sighed, leaning forward to kiss me with bated breath, hands now groping the front of my chest while his tongue smoothed against mine. 

I pulled away to relieve my aching lungs, allowing Chan open access to my neck while my head was tilted back against the steering wheel. “You wanted it just as much as I did,” I commented, tangling my hands in his messy curls to hold him in place. My thighs were now straining from my movements, the burn aching pleasantly like the time Chan had tried to teach me how to swim in the campus pool, keeping one hand under my stomach while he encouraged me to kick out my legs.

“You were going to get fucked one way or another,” Chan said, letting out a deep rumble as he occasionally rutted up when my hips would fall against his, skin bruising with every seductive sound. 

“But at least I got your cock instead of my fingers,” I said, rolling my hips faster as I started to chase my own orgasm. “You wouldn’t believe the difference.”

“I might,” he said. “It works both ways.”

I fought every urge to just stop my movements and let Chan fuck me however he wanted, reaching for one of his hands to guide his long fingers down between us. “Please, Channie,” I whined loudly, an unfortunate result of my increasing desperation with every deep fill of his cock against my tight walls.

His thumb pressed down on my throbbing organ, kisses growing messier as we both started to chase our highs, teetering precariously on the precipice between pleasure and rationality because fucking in the car was certainly not high on my list of most responsible moments. “Are you close?” he asked. “Because I might die if I don’t cum soon.”

“Don’t die,” I whispered, scratching my nails down his chest through the fabric of his shirt. “Just a little longer.”

Chan grunted, forehead slipping against mine now that we were both covered with sweat. I opened my eyes just enough to realize that we had successfully fogged up all the windows like that giant innuendo of a scene in Titanic. “Fuck, Y/N,” Chan groaned, kissing me again with too many teeth.

“Chan,” I swallowed around a moan, legs trembling with a cloying mixture of exertion and the anticipation of a satisfying orgasm. Chan wasn’t far behind, grabbing my thighs with clenched fingers as he jerked his hips up to fill the condom with a thunderous groan.

I held onto him, his face buried against my chest as we both struggled to regain our breath. “I’ll fuck you better when we get back,” Chan promised, and I had never heard anything sexier in my entire life.

“Happy anniversary.”

“I love you, Y/N,” Chan murmured against my skin.

“Yeah? Well, I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

“I guess we’ll see about that.”

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 5: Don’t Even Think About It]

Hi y’all! I’m so sorry I’ve been gone for so long...finals and job hunting got the best of me. I will be updating more frequently going forward. As always, thank you so much for reading!! 💜😘

Series summary: You are an overwhelmed and disenchanted nurse in Boston, Massachusetts. Queen is an eccentric British rock band you’ve never heard of. But once your fates intertwine in the summer of 1974, none of your lives will ever be the same...

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, very very very little sexual content.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

You’re in the crowd at The Rainbow, although you aren’t sure why; this has already happened.

Freddie is skulking across the fog-draped stage as he belts out the chorus of In The Lap Of The Gods...Revisited, all glistening tan skin and teased hair, a pillar of nimble black leather; John is only a silhouette in the mist. Brian looks like something that’s crawled out of a cocoon: leggy and insect-like, the sleeves of his flowing white blouse like a pair of wings. And Roger...Roger’s in the back, of course—“the hardworking one in the back,” he always says—with a glittery black kimono-like shrug hanging loosely off his bare shoulders. He’s drumming feverishly, sprays of Heineken flying off his floor tom, his forehead and blond hair dripping.

“Whoa, whoa, la la la, whoa...

I can see what you want me to be,

But I'm no fool,

It's in the lap of the gods...”

Somehow, as the fog clears, Roger’s eyes find you in the crowd. He grins in that effervescent, blameless way that he does. And now you know for sure that this is a dream; because there’s no chance Roger could see that far without his glasses.

There’s a banging noise coming from somewhere, but it’s muted, distant, splintered like an echo.

Dream Roger is fading away, dissolving as the lights shade to black on the stage. He disappears, and then Freddie does too, and then Brian, and finally John. The crowd you’re standing in is a sea of churning, indistinguishable faces.

The banging grows louder, closer. You can hear a new voice now.

You swim up from unconsciousness and punch into daylight. You’re laying on your back in bed in a small, rustic hotel room; it takes you a second to remember what the world looks like now. It’s not November at the Rainbow Theater. It’s December 11th, and you’re in Rome.  

You sit up in bed and turn towards the door. Whoever is out there is knocking so forcefully that the distressed wood rattles on its hinges.

“Hey, Dorothea Dix, wake up!” Freddie is shouting through the door.

You rub your eyes as your feet touch the cool teak floor. The band flew into Rome late last night, and has one full day to burn before their concert on the 12th. You’d pitched the idea of visiting a few museums, the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Roman Forum, St. Peter's Basilica, maybe even the Baths of Caracalla or the Temple of Venus and Roma; but it had been difficult to get anyone to commit at 2 a.m. when you were all exhausted and dragging luggage into the modest, quite geriatric hotel. Queen may finally have a Top 20 album in the U.S., but the streets aren’t paved with gold just yet.

“Darling, need I remind you that this was all your idea, you simply must wake up this instant—!”

You swing the door open. Freddie is standing in the hallway in a vivid yellow-and-black jacket and white jeans, tall boots, dark hair huge and curly, folded aviator sunglasses peeking out of his pocket.

“Get ready, bitch,” he says, grinning, then slips the sunglass over his dusky eyes. “All those gorgeous marble blokes with their cocks hanging out aren’t going to ogle themselves.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You start with the ruins, then end up at the National Roman Museum after lunch. Brian and Chrissie meander through the halls of cracked marble goddesses and heroes and piecemeal fractions of bodies, their hands intertwined; Chrissie took a few days off work to meet the band in Rome, and she’s glowing with the thrill of being reunited with Bri. Freddie is contemplating the displays, tapping his chin thoughtfully and chatting as John nods along and sketches in his notebook. There’s a photographer scurrying around snapping photos of the band for some magazine, to the vexation of the museum employees. They scowl from the corners of the rooms, their suits pristine and arms crossed, muttering to each other in Italian.

Roger leaps in front of a hulking statue of Perseus and mimics the pose. “What do you think?” he asks you, wielding an invisible spear. “Am I courageous? Divine? A mirror image?”

“You’ll have to work on the hair. And gain like a hundred pounds.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Pounds?!”

“Whoops. Kilos. A lot of kilos. But I think I like you as you are. Can I see your hands?”

Roger falls out of his pose, smiling. “Yes ma’am.” He presents his palms for inspection. The first weeks had been hell for him as his hands were worked into touring shape, repeatedly blistered and worn raw, iced and treated and bandaged by you each night only to be pummeled all over again the next day. Of course, Roger hadn’t described it that way; he shrugged at the blood and swollen knuckles, his eyes already alight with the promise of future shows. That’s just a casualty of fame, love, he’d told you. I’d take it all again and more. The last of his blisters have healed now into discolored callouses, rough whirlpools of memories from cities like Glasgow and Bristol and Helsinki and Munich. “I can get more pounds too, you know. I’ll be swimming in them. I’m gonna buy you a mansion when we get home.”

“Not so fast, blondie.” You graze your thumbs over his rugged palms and release him. Aside from your annoyingly incessant concern for Roger, your job hasn’t proved to be too taxing: there have been sprains, minor lacerations, severe hangovers, some alcohol poisoning, and one case of syphilis that you identified and sent the unfortunate man to a doctor for, all of which afflicted the roadies rather than the band.

“How’s Jo doing?” Chrissie calls over from where she and Brian are scrutinizing a sculpture of Apollo. She tosses Roger a smirk.

“Fine,” he replies briskly. “It was amicable. She understood. Nothing personal, just with the tour and everything we knew it wasn’t going to work out. Bad timing, that’s all.”

“Hm. That’s not exactly how she described it.”

Roger sighs, irritated. “Well, Chris, I really can’t control what she chooses to tell you, can I?”

“Shhhh. Play nice, love,” Brian coos, massaging Chrissie’s shoulders.

Roger pops a cigarette between his lips and moves to light it. A museum employee rushes over, waving his arms frantically. “Per favore, signore, no smoking near the exhibits—!”

“Oh, right, right. Sorry.” Roger tucks the cigarette away, then turns back to you. “Okay, no mansion then. What’s your fancy? Diamonds and gold? Tigers on leashes?”

“A harem of sensual Italian men?” Freddie suggests. Chrissie bursts out laughing.

“I hope not,” Roger says.

“You know what I really want?” you say, eyeing busts of Hadrian and Nero.

“What?” Chrissie asks.

“A camera. A really good one. To document all of this, our adventures. I mean, I know we have...” You wave towards the magazine photographer, who’s mostly snapping shots of Freddie and Roger. “But it would be nice to have my own photos. Carry them around in my wallet, force strangers to look at them, cover my refrigerator with them, all that sentimental stuff. So the minute you kids start making real money, I’d like a nice Canon. Or a Nikon. Or whatever the best camera is.”

“The Canon F-1 is quite good,” the photographer offers.

“Perfect! Clearly, I know nothing about cameras. And will need a hefty instruction manual. But I’m still excited.”

Roger winks. “I believe in you.”

As you all wander into the next room, Freddie spies a grand piano and sprints to it. He slides onto the bench and begins testing the keys. A distraught museum employee appears instantly.

“Signore, please, this is for the museum staff only, please signore!”

“Oh relax, darling, I won’t break it.” He begins experimenting with some light, jazzish melody.

“I love Rome,” you decide as you stroll past the Aphrodite of Menophantos. “Are you sure we can’t stay here forever?”

John frowns as he shades in whatever he’s drawing in his notebook. “It’s too bad we couldn’t make it to Florence.”

Freddie rolls his eyes from the piano. “Deaky, darling, this Dante’s Inferno obsession has got to go. It’s positively morbid.”

“He ends up in paradise,” John protests wryly.

Freddie snorts. “Yes, well, Florence is a three hour drive each way. Next time perhaps. Once we’ve all got private jets and Nurse Nightingale over there has her posh camera.”

“And we’ve acquired trophy wives to pose with us,” Brian jokes. Chrissie squeals and shoves him good-naturedly.  

“We could go to the beach,” John proposes.

“A seaside rendezvous?” you say playfully.  

Freddie hums and nods as his fingers fly over black and white keys.

“Signore...” the museum employee begs. The photographer circles Freddie and the piano, snapping picture after picture.

“The beach?!” Roger whines. “It’s too cold for that! We can’t swim, we can’t sunbathe practically naked, what’s the point? And we’re checking out that club tonight. The one by the hotel, what’s it called, Fred? El Fuocolio?”

“Il Fuoco,” Freddie corrects, amused.

“Ah. Forgive me for not keeping up with my Italian.”

“We don’t all listen to opera, you know,” you tease Freddie. He peers over at you thoughtfully, then continues playing. “I’ll go to the beach with you, John.”

He almost drops his notebook and pencil. “Will you?”

“Of course. I’ll have fewer opportunities in my life to see the Italian seaside than get tipsy and evade dodgy men at some bar, most likely. Although I will miss seeing your dancing.”

“Aww!” Now Roger is dejected, his huge blue eyes pleading. “You have to come with us.”

“Next time,” you promise him.

“This time.”

“Next time.”

“Fine.” He points at John. “Don’t let her get eaten by a shark or run off with some Italian playboy.”

John grins. “I’ll do my best.”

Two burly security guards arrive and begin shouting at Freddie in Italian. “Oh fine, fine!” he snaps as he stands and abandons the piano. The museum employee beams triumphantly.

“Fred, I think we’ve tormented them enough,” Brian says.

“Bri, can we go to the beach too?” Chrissie asks. “Please?”

“It’ll be chilly.”

“I have a jacket. And I can borrow yours if necessary.”  

Brian chuckles. “Okay. We can go. Ostia’s the closest one, I suppose.”

“You’ll love it,” you tell him. “It’ll be like time travelling. You get to stand on the same shore that the ancient Romans did, bury your feet in the same sand, watch the same sunset. That should appeal to an astrophysicist such as yourself.”  

“How poetic,” John muses.

Roger comes to you, shrugs off his black leather jacket, drapes it over your violet sweater.

“Roger, don’t—”

“I’ll miss you,” he interrupts, smiling, then presses his lips fleetingly to your forehead.

~~~~~~~~~~

The four of you take a crowded, decidedly unglamorous bus to Ostia and walk the beaches under the fading afternoon sun. It is chilly by the crashing water, and the wind whips across your cheeks forcefully enough to sting; but none of that stops you. Brian and John collect seashells, and Brian retreads all the details of the tour—all the things he wishes he could do over, all the things he wants to change going forward—as John listens, smoking and nodding when appropriate. You and Chrissie kneel in the cool sand and shape castles with your hands, giggle about how messy and lopsided they are, scribble notes in the soft sifting remnants of stone and quartz: Chrissie loves Bri, Buy Sheer Heart Attack today, Queen was here. And you’re thinking about Roger more than you should be, and Chrissie knows it; but she’s not going to say anything about that now.

When the boys come back, Bri sits in the sand next to Chrissie and begins to decorate her castle with the shells he found: scallops and clams and tulip shells and oysters and tiny lightning whelks. She claps and hugs him, leaps into his lap, pulls him in for a kiss.  

“This is terribly unfair,” you say, staring morosely at your now even less impressive sandcastle.

John appears beside you and offers a massive pink conch filled with very small, pristine, glossy shells. You gasp and clasp a palm over your heart.

“Really?!”

“Yeah,” he says, puzzled. “Who do you think I picked them for?”

“You’re the best. The absolute best. A treasure. I owe you my life. Wait...” You pick up a thin shard of driftwood and write into the side of your sandcastle: John Deacon, and then a heart encircling it. “You are officially lord of the sandcastle.”

“A prestigious position, surely,” he says, smiling, then passes you the conch. “Go on.”

As you place the shells, he finds a dried bit of seaweed and impales it on the piece of driftwood, then plants the makeshift flag on the tallest tower of the castle.

Brian glances over and shakes his head, his mess of curls shivering. “Chris, love, I fear we’ve been outdone.” Then he nods to the words you and Chrissie carved with your fingertips. “Leaving letters in the sand?”

“Promotional material,” you quip; but you can tell the wheels in Brian’s magnificent mind are whirling.

As the sun sets over the Mediterranean Sea, golden speckles of light floating disembodied on the waves, the four of you get gelato and browse through bookstores and wander down cobblestone streets. And on the bus ride back to the hotel, Brian points out constellations as you hold the conch shell in your lap and doze against John’s shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~

Brian and Chrissie depart to get dinner when you arrive back at the hotel, taking the rare opportunity for a date night. You try to think of a more romantic destination than Rome. Paris? New York? Venice? Probably none of those. You push the images that flood your thoughts away: candlelit meals with violins serenading in the background, the warm cascading glow of streetlights, tossing coins into fountains older than either London or Boston, gazing over the table and into the ensnaring oceanic eyes of the person who won’t be there. Roger.

“Do you think Roger and Fred are back yet?” you ask John in the lobby. He’s still got his notebook in his jacket pocket, but he won’t let you see it.

“I doubt it, but let’s find out.”

You ride the elevator to the band’s floor, still clutching the conch shell, as John fields ideas for dinner.

“Roger’s going to want pizza and beer, but we might be able to get Freddie to go for something more swanky. Actually, he’ll probably order dessert first. There’s a restaurant down the street that I heard has phenomenal tiramisu and lasagna.”

“Oh god. I would kill for a good lasagna.”

“No need for all that,” John says. “We don’t have enough cash for your bail.”

“If they serve lasagna in prison, you can leave me here.”

“But then who would patch up our debaucherous roadies?!”

You laugh as the elevator lurches to a halt and the doors open. “Just call me up in prison and I can talk you through it—”

You step out and turn down the hallway; then all the air vanishes from your lungs. Roger’s fumbling with his key as he tries to get into his room...and pressed between him and the door is a raven-haired, modelesque woman in a short red dress. His eyes are closed, her tongue darting between his lips, his free hand skating up her bare thigh and beneath her dress. And suddenly you’re being dragged back into the elevator, John’s arms locked around your waist. He hits the button for the lobby then reaches for you uncertainly.

“Are you okay—?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m totally fine, I’m...” But for some reason, your throat is burning and your eyes are blurring with tears. You try to blink them away and they drop down your cheeks like rain.

“You’re not,” he realizes softly.

“Goddammit,” you choke out, sobbing.

“Hey, don’t do that,” John pleads. “Please don’t do that, please don’t cry—”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, this is so stupid...” You fan your face and try to wrangle your breathing. The way he was touching her...I can’t forget the way he was touching her. “I am so stupid.”

“You’re not,” John flares. And when he opens his arms you rush into them, burying your face in his jacket as he pulls you closer, drowning you in his warmth. “You’re not stupid,” he says, quietly but severely. “You’re wicked smart and wonderful and perfect, so you’re not allowed to say anything to the contrary. Alright?”

“Okay,” you whisper. And it occurs to you—as your breathing slows, as your tears subside—how incomparably comfortable this feels, homey even.

John clears his throat. “Hey, not to break this up or anything, but you’re sort of stabbing me with the conch shell.”

Incredibly, you laugh as you back away, swiping at your eyes. “Sorry.”

The elevator doors open, and John leads you out into the lobby. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says. “We’re going to go to that restaurant on the corner and I’m going to order a lasagna—”

“John, I don’t think I can eat anything.”

“Doesn’t matter. Did I say you were going to be forced to eat it at gunpoint? No I did not. I’m going to order a lasagna, and if you want some awesome, and if you don’t we’ll just sit and talk. And you can nibble table bread or drink so much wine you forget today ever happened, whatever you want. You make the rules. But we’re going, and I’m ordering lasagna.”

“Okay,” you reply, sniffling, smiling up at him gratefully.

The restaurant is teeming with tourists, and you end up seated at a tiny table near the back with very dim lighting and a roaring fireplace. It’s deliciously hot, burning away your misery; or, at least, making it feel as if it might belong to someone else, as if maybe you heard about it from a friend or in a song, maybe even dreamed it. You take Roger’s leather jacket off and hang it on the back of your chair. When the waiter arrives, John orders for you.

“One lasagna, the biggest one you have, and extra table bread, and uh...” He skims the menu. “Two red wines and a Coke. And a sparkling water. So the lady has a selection.”

“Si, signore. Grazie.”

When the waiter leaves, John lifts off his jacket too, then unbuttons his shirt to his navel. The sweltering glow of the firelight dances across his pale skin in a way that is mysteriously distracting. “Well, it definitely doesn’t feel like December in here.”

“I’m sorry, maybe they could move us—”

“No, that’s alright, I know you like it. And one should be sweating in Southern Italy, don’t you think?” He tears off a hunk of bread when it arrives and plates it for you. The conch shell lays on the table by the salt and pepper shakers, to the visible confusion of the waiter.

“Thank you. For everything, John. Really.”

He gazes at you with those blue-grey eyes that can look like either clouds or steel depending on the occasion. Tonight they are misty, like the froth over waves, impossibly soft. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he says gently. “I don’t know if that helps at all, but I think it should. It doesn’t mean anything to someone like Roger, what you saw tonight.”

You sigh. “I guess it doesn’t. And I’m sorry, I know it’s ridiculous, I know that, and I’m just so frustrated and...and...I get it, I get that I have no right to care about anything Roger does, which is why I feel like such an idiot for reacting this way, but I just...I just...I’m just so...so fucking torn up about it and I’m sick of being surrounded by it all the time and I’m...I’m so...I’m...look, I’m sorry, can you button your shirt or something? That’s very distracting.”

“Oh, it’s distracting, is it?” John asks, grinning.

“Don’t you dare—”

He undoes several more buttons. “How about now, are you sufficiently distracted?”

“John, no!” you wail, laughing.

“I wouldn’t want to do anything to distract you from your tortured inner monologue...” He removes his shirt entirely and tosses it to the floor. “How are you now?”

“Very distracted,” you wheeze.

“Excellent.” He smiles, resting his face in his hands, the firelight flickering over his bare chest and shoulders, reflections of flames in his eyes. “See, you don’t look so sad now.”

“No, I guess I don’t.” You bite into your hunk of bread. But still, the way he was touching her...  

John sips red wine and smirks teasingly. “You know...if you ever get tired of the celibate lifestyle...I’m always game.”

You laugh, shaking your head, and open the Coke bottle. “That’s very much appreciated. But I don’t just want sex.”

“I know,” he replies, solemnly now. “You want him.”

“That’s pretty pathetic, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic at all.” That seems like it must be a lie, but John sounds genuine.

“You’re my best friend, you know,” you tell him. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Certainly not get treated to authentic Italian lasagna.”

You chuckle. “I’m sure that’s the least of your talents. Veronica is a very lucky woman.”

John nods, staring down at the table now, pushing crumbs around with the back of his hand. “If you say so.”

And, in the end, you managed to eat your half of the lasagna after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you get back to your hotel room, it’s very late in Italy...which means it’s only early evening in Boston. You pick up the phone and resolve to use the last of your miniscule weekly allowance for a long distance call.

Your mom answers on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Guess where I am right now.”

“Hopefully on a date with that nice Roger boy.”

“Oh my god, Mom.”

She titters pleasantly. “Tell me, dear. Germany? No, no. Spain.”

“Rome.”

“Oh!” she sighs, steeped in nostalgia. “Daddy and I went there on our honeymoon! Ages ago, of course. But it was wonderful, otherworldly. Like getting lost in a fairytale. How do you like it?”

“I love it,” you murmur. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Always, dear.”

You twirl the phone cord around your fingers anxiously. “How did you know that Dad was the one?”

“Hm.” She pauses; and you can envision the way she takes a step back and glances up at the ceiling whenever she’s thinking something over. Oh, maybe I do still miss parts of Boston. “Well...you know Daddy wasn’t single when we met. And neither was I.”

“Yeah, I think I remember that part of the story.”

“I’m not sure if I can explain it, dear. Truly. I...” She drifts off, pondering it. Finally, she says: “I’d had plenty of other boyfriends. I’d been interested in other people. And people are all so different, they all have something unique to offer to your life, whether good or evil. But when I met your father...I just felt like I couldn’t live without him. Suddenly nothing else seemed possible if he wasn’t in the picture. Like if he wasn’t there I’d spend the rest of my life missing him. Does that answer your question?”

“It does, yeah.” You close your eyes and feel the dark Mediterranean night air breeze in through the open window. The conch shell has found a temporary home on top of the antique dresser. “I love you, Mom.”

“Aww, I love you too, honey. And you’ll make the right decision, whatever that is.”

You look out into the constellations that Brian introduced to you earlier, Aries and Fornax and Perseus. “I hope so.”

[whatdoesshedotothem]

: Sunday 2 February 1840

8 ¼

2 ½

her cousin came this morning – A- came to me and lay on my bed twenty five minutes breakfast about 9 ¾ - at church a minute or 2 after 11 just service had begun (reading the Lords’ prayer) Mr. Camidge preached I suppose ½ hour+ (but as last Sunday forgot to look at my watch) from Micah vii. 18, 19 and 20 home for ¼ hour had Mrs. Howard – the Russian girl wishing her to ask if we intended to take her afterwards or not – said we should give the answer to the dame supérieure – Mrs. H- to to try to find out the girls’ feeling on the subject – she had been crying terribly – whether this was from sorrow mortification, or what sort of feeling – A- and I out at 1 10/.. – to princess Tcherkaski – she was dressing but would receive us – we waited 5 or 6 minutes and staid about 20 – she very civil – hoped we should meet again at St. P- or somewhere repeating her former phrase “comme des bonnes connaissances” sorry as before she had not made our acquaintance earlier – then to old countess Panin – left cards – her daughter, countess Wera, very ill of inflammation – received by countess A.P- and sat perhaps 10 minutes or ¼ hour – she gave us her own address here and in the country in Russian the courier would direct our letters if we could not do it in Russ[ia] – and gave me princess Oroussoffs’ address – then to the Ocouloffs’ – very kind and civil – pressed us to stay dinner – they had been here this morning and left cards and

their address in town and country the latter on the road from here to Tula (not from here to St. P-) saw Mr. O-‘s cabinet d’etude – a few some good pictures – nice comfortable study and sitting and sofa-sleeping room – shewed his full dress  coat as chambellan covered with 1500/. worth of gold lace – the coat complete costs 2300/. – that of the 2 grand chambellans costs 2800/. his petit unifrome costs 500/. – Madame O- said if A- and I were presented our dress would have a train and be à la Russe – 300/. – needed not cost more – then saw carpets made at the fabrique established by Madame O-‘s sister (Madame Statkovksy) at her Campagne near Saratof [Saratov] – on the Penza road, and not far from there – an archine (or more?) wide stairs carpet 5/. per archine – a large carpet 13 archines square she would ceder à l’instant même for 3000/. but not for less – Madame O- had said 2000/.  all this carpeting done by hand – by 20 jeunes filles – by bobbins she said – How is that? see into it at Saratof [Saratov] – our coachman nobody knew where – George said he was always to wait for – Madame O-‘s coachman had just mounted the box and driven us to the gate when our man came – gave Madame O-‘s man a 25 silver kop. piece – then left cards chez les Fischer and home at 3 ½ or (if my silver watch is 2 ½ hours too late) at 3 40/.. – A- told me monsieur was come  a little last night   enough this morning said that we should not get off till Tuesday about 10 a.m. instead of as we told everybody just after midnight tomorrow – had just written so far now at 4 ¼ - then inking over the notes princess dictated and writing to Hawkins wrote not to Mrs. Hawkins about the pots of ointment for Madame Apraxin – partly dressed – dinner at 6 – finished my toilette – A- and I out at 7 ½ - meant to have gone by the Porte rouge to leave my note dated today but written yesterday (vid. other end of the book) to ask Mr. Alexander Richter to come between 9 and 10 tomorrow – but too late – gave the note to George to be left as we returned or as it turned out to go very early (before 8) tomorrow morning – 5 or 6 minutes at Mr. Fischers’, a long table of persons playing a round gave Mrs. F- got up, and came with us into her salon – Mr. F- came – well we had gone, tho’ poisoned with tobacco, and princess O- smelt us, and questioned us about it on our going in – there at 7 50/.. – sometime before princess R- came – she was writing – very good, tho’ said she had been calculating her marche route, and was stupid – dictated note of thanks for the courier to be written on our return – How good she is! we staid till 10 – she asked us to go tomorrow evening – for she does not set off till 11 a.m. on Tuesday – best to take leave tonight – travelling would be insupportable if one had after the

SH:7/ML/E/23/0195

pain of parting like this – she said at last – one should always part gaily; for it was a better augure of meeting again – I told her I was glad of having seen Boulgakoff I knew now to whom we were indebted for our courier – B- would go à 4 pattes pour elle – she said she did not know this I said she could oblige him in some way or other – she did not know this – no one said I knows it better than you do – it was not for princess Olga but for you that he gave the courier – she (princess R-) has behaved beautifully – she has helped us without letting us find it out – nor should I have dreamed the truth about the courier had I not seen B- chez elle – his manner not hers, told the truth – she has more heart – more high mindedness –more deep delicacy of feeling than a man like him can [comprehend] – she has always reminded me of poor Sibbella – I cannot describe even to myself my feeling of sadness on parting with her – It would be terrible if such feelings could recur often – home at 10 ¼ - tea till 11 – wrote the last 29 lines till now 11 ½ p.m. fine day – then till 1 ¼ calculating tables for princess R- of her 4 horses per station from here to St. P- this and writin[g] the short explanation etc. took me till after two –

[asphalt-cocktail]

Sour- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You’re a Right Bitch

Summary: Signing onto EMI records in the mid 80′s should have been a dream come true for Reader and her punk band, but she finds herself bubbling over with rage every time she interacts with the drummer from the successful rock band that records down the hall.

A/N: Hey lil cuties, I hope you enjoyed the teaser, it got a lot of good recognition which I’m happy about. Maybe i’ll actually do a tag list if anyone is interested (P.S. send ask if you are) and depending on how many people ask I’ll make but ONLY for this fic. If any of you have ideas for a name for reader’s band let me know because I’m writing the next chapter right now and I can’t think of what to call it, I was thinking maybe Sex Kitten, but let me know you’re opinion is always appreciated! This can be read as Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor and your feedback, likes, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. 

Pairing: 80s!Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, hate fucking, degrading, alcohol, cigarettes, dom!Roger, swearing, fighting, unprotected sex, no foreplay, throwing up (from intoxication), age difference(maybe like 10 years, reader is probably mid- late 20s and Roger is close to 40), rog being kind of a c*nt, but reader also is, not proof read, grammar.

Word Count: 5.8k whoops

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Asks

18+ if you are a minor do NOT interact with this post. This is fictitious content and I own nothing.

<<<< Teaser

Signing onto EMI should have seemed like a dream come true, but it wasn’t. Not because you and your band had issues with the contract or the long hours spent in the recording studio, no, it was because of a certain drummer of a certain internationally known rock band that had been the absolute bane of your existence. You honestly had no idea how the two of you had gotten off on the wrong foot, maybe it was how loud your hot-headed drummer, Benny got when he was pissed off, or how Haz liked to play his guitar outside of the sound dampened recording studio or how your singer Joe sand loudly in the halls as the four of you left to go home, or maybe it was the fact that you told him you expected him to be much shorter from slouching behind his set. Come to think of it, it probably was the latter of the complaints you’ve gotten from the neighboring band.

The first time you met Roger Taylor was also your first day in the recording studio as an officially signed and contracted band. The group of you were leaving well past midnight, alcohol and cigarettes seemed to be the only way you four could make it through recording this late. As the group of you stumbled through the hallway, your laughter accompanied by Joe’s bass heavy vocals echoed loudly through the halls. Your troupe had just barely made your way to the first door before a head of messy blond hair and furrowed brows poked his head out from the neighboring recording room, “Would you shut your bloody traps, some of us are trying to record.” He snapped before loudly slamming the door behind him.

You and your bandmates froze, unsure of what to do or say. It wasn’t until Haz spoke up and shoved Joe “Yeah shut up, Joe.” He mocked while laughing. You couldn’t help but think of how familiar his face looked.

Just the thought of Roger Taylor was enough to make your mood sour for at least the next three hours. You frowned pushing the heavy doors to the outside open, inhaling the cool winter air. You needed to get out of that damn recording studio, it got so stuffy after having four people in there breathing the same air for hours at a time. You brought a cigarette to your lips and lit it, leaning against the brick building with your hands in your jacket pocket, the door next to you opened revealing your nemesis, Roger Taylor, much to your dismay. “Fuck now my cigarette is ruined.” You said blowing smoke out towards the air.

Roger rolled his eyes, “Piss off.” He retorted before walking past you and to his car to grab a few sets of spare sticks.

“Aw, not out here to join me for a smoke?” you joked.

Roger frowned and his face twisted into one of disgust “I’d rather eat a fist full of glass.” He spat at you bitterly.

You hummed taking a drag from your cigarette and blew the smoke directly in his face as he walked past you “Shame, we really could have bonded.”

Roger waved the smoke away from his face “Don’t you have to be a bitch somewhere else?”

Your face twisted as you stubbed your cigarette out with your boot “Don’t you have to bang on some pots and pans?” you retorted.

Roger rolled his eyes and pushed past you, throwing the door open and stomping down the hall. You waited a beat for him to make his way to Queen’s recording room before you followed suit. Seeing Roger Taylor in person was enough to sour your mood for a few days. You and your bad attitude made your way back to the studio, you loudly shut the door behind you which caught the attention of your bandmates. “What’s got you in a pissy mood?” Haz asked.

Benny smirked knowingly “You ran into roger while out on your smoke break, didn’t you?”  

You huffed “I swear to god I’m going to fight his arrogant ass one of these days.” You said while pacing, too worked up to sit down.

Joe walked out of the booth “Well if you’re done brooding, get in and record your bass line for the song. We’ve been wasting time waiting for you to get back in.” He sounded almost as frustrated as you were.

You nodded, picking up your bass and walking into the booth, you put the headphones on and allowed for the music your bandmates had recorded previously to fill your eardrums as you added your bass line onto their unapologetically loud post-punk beats.

The music stopped and you looked up from your bass, “You sound like shit.” Benny said, “Not like good shit, but like actual shit.” He added.

Your jaw dropped, “Excuse me?” you sounded shocked, “What?” You really couldn’t wrap your head around what Benny had just told you.

Joe nodded his head and gave you a sympathetic smile along with a thumbs down, “You should make it… make it more slappy I guess?”

You scoffed “Slappy? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Benny clicked on the speaking button again “It means, make it sound slappy. Like this,” He said singing a bass like.

You nodded your head “Got it.” You said and waved your hand signaling them to roll the tape. You chewed on your lip and listened for a minute to think of something to play before you let your fingers fly down your frets and strings. When you finished you looked back up to the window “Slappy enough for you?”

“Fucking brilliant, per usual.” Haz complemented into the mic.

Movement in the background caught your attention though, you walked closer to the window and squinted your eyes trying to see into the poorly lit sound booth to the door. Where some tall figures stood “What’s going on back there?” You asked.

Haz shifted nervously in his seat “Don’t worry about it, we have other songs to do.” You could see him swallow thickly behind the glass that separated the two of you.

You were suspicious but he was right, “Fine, roll the bloody tape.” You were frustrated, frustrated with your shit takes, frustrated with Roger, frustrated with the fact you didn’t know what was going on from the outside of this stupid little box. Through the middle of your little recording session you saw your bandmates recongregate in front of the soundboard. They whispered and talked amongst themselves while the producer sat next to them obviously eavesdropping, you abruptly stopped “Are you going to tell me who was at the door? Or should I just keep playing and not having you pay attention.” You said bitterly.

Benny rolled his eyes and paused the recording, “If you really need to know, Freddie Mercury invited us to a gathering at his house later this evening.” He said waving an envelope in front of the window.

“You’ve got to be joking.” You said, letting go of your bass and allowing it to drop and hand loosely from the strap around your shoulder.

“Honest,” He said raising his hands defensively.

You took your headphones off and switched off the mic before screaming “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” From behind the soundproof booth, that did it. You rage had finally bubbled over, you shoved over the table holding your water, extra pics, and notes before breathing deeply and regathering yourself. “Let’s roll the fucking tape so we can get ready, yeah?” You said, as your bandmates looked at you with shocked expressions behind the glass. “You lot catching flies, or are we going to fucking record, let’s go.”

As you recorded your bandmates sat in an uncomfortable silence before one of them finally spoke “I’ve never seen [Y/N] that mad at anything in my life.” Haz started, leaning back in his chair.

Joe nodded his head, still listening intently but joining in on the conversation, “Yeah, but I bet it’s because she hasn’t gotten a proper lay in ages.”

Benny cracked open his beer and took a big gulp before grunting in agreement “You think she fancies Taylor?” he questioned.

“Yeah, but she can’t deal with her feelings, you know that. She’ll destroy this whole damn studio before she admits that.” Haz pointed out.

Benny nodded his head “Right, well I guarantee she is going to be piss drunk tonight, so I’ll keep an eye on her.”

---

After your litter outburst in the studio the boys decided to call it a day after your last take to allow for you all to go home and get ready for Freddie’s party, Ben would be making arounds later to pick everyone up but that wouldn’t be an issue considering he was also your roommate. You rifled through your closet, struggling to figure out what to wear. Your typical style didn’t seem grand enough for a Freddie Mercury party, but you made do with what you had and opted for comfort instead of sex appeal.

“Try not to fight anyone tonight.” Benny said as the two of you got into his small car.

You obviously knew what he was referencing but preferred to ignore it “I won’t, it’ll be fine, I’ve never been in a better mood.” You said and flashed him a fake cheesy smile.

Benny rolled his eyes knowing he would have his hands full tonight.

The drive to Freddie’s lavish home was surprisingly short, which you were grateful for seeing as sitting in the car was making you stir crazy. A pit of butterflies had formed in your stomach, but you had no idea why you had this sudden onset of nerves. You got along wonderfully with all of the other members of the famous rock and roll band and often times would ring up John Deacon for advice on your playing. You didn’t mind his bluntly honest critiques or his back handed complements that would make any other person run and cry. You were not any other person in the sense that you and John were very similar in that sense. Being the bassists in your respective bands meant you had to stand up for yourself otherwise you would get pushed to the background and often forgotten about by fans. It was your mutual understanding for the struggles of being bassists and strong drinkers that caused your professional friendship to form.

The group of you made your way to Freddie’s front door and were let in by nicely dressed doormen, and the scene before you was unlike anything you could have imagined. You knew his parties were the stuff of legends, but a party of this stature could rival even the great Jay Gatsby. You quickly lit a cigarette and took a glass of expensive white wine from one of the waitstaffs’ trays, promptly downing the small glass and handing it back to them, “Shall we?” You asked nodding your head into the large crowd of people before you.

Before you knew it, your bandmates had been swallowed by the crowd, causing you to lose sight of them and anyone else you may have recognized as a matter of fact. You meandered through the crowd towards the bar where you saw a familiar head of iconic curly hair, “Brian!” You said, greeting him with a friendly embrace which he returned. “It’s so nice to see you outside of the recording studio.” You jokingly said.

He laughed and nodded his head, “Yeah same to you.” He took a sip from his drink, “I heard you and Roger got into another little spat.” He could see the remanence of frustration behind your cheerful expression.

Your smile quickly dropped and was replaced by rolling eyes and deep sigh, “Did he tell you that?” You asked, you could feel your frustration boiling over.

“You know he’s sensitive about his drumming.” Brian chimed in with a smirk, oh did he love stirring the pot between the two of you.

“Well I’m sensitive about being called a bitch.” You said quickly swallowing the mixed drink your ordered, hoping the alcohol would ease your frustration.

Brian’s lips quirked into a sympathetic smile, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”  That was a lie and both of you knew it.

You nodded, already nursing your next drink, these bartenders really did work at inhuman speeds “Right,” You said not believing his lie, “Where’s Fred and John?” You quipped.

“What, not curious about where the fourth member is?” Brian pressed, your silence caused him to put his hands up defensively “Only taking the piss.” He said, still smiling “Freddie is out back, and John is God knows where.”

You nodded your head before ordering another drink, back up if you will, and bidding Brian farewell before you pushed your way through the crowd to greet the host. Freddie was having a good time, per usual. You waved hello to him from the crowd of people, he yelled something you couldn’t hear over the music and reached for your hand pulling you into a warm friendly hug which you awkwardly returned given your hands were full. You handed Freddie your empty drink glass “What should I do with this?” You asked, he responded by taking the glass from your hand and throwing it out into the crowd of people, causing you to laugh while nursing your next drink.

You and Freddie laughed in your mutual drunken states “You know, darling, when Roger came back into the studio and mentioned how you said something about him banging on pots and pans I nearly died from laughter.” He said remembering the flushed and angry expression on his drummer’s face. “You know what I think?” He asked leaning into talk to you, you sipped your drink, looking up at Freddie wide eyed and pressing him to continue speaking “I think the two of you should fuck.”

You choked on your drink, coughing it all over the front of your shirt and wiping the dribble from your chin “What!” You asked in a shrill voice.

Freddie let out a bellowing laugh, “It would be brilliant, the two of you need a good fuck anyways.” He said trailing off at the end and taking a large sip from his highball glass.

“I can’t believe you would even suggest I sleep with that arrogant asshole.” You were honestly kind of offended that Freddie would group you with one of Roger’s lowly groupies.

“Hear me out, love.” He said, his stance wavering from the alcohol “Roger has had such a stick up his ass after quitting smoking and the divorce. I don’t think he’s gotten any decent pussy since we toured in the 80s and you? I don’t ever see you going home with any sort of eye candy.”

You rolled your eyes before you finished off your drink and set your glass on a table, “I don’t get any I’m the only female in a mostly male punk band, Fred.” You pointed out, using your now empty hands to light a cigarette, “I’m not even a lead, I just play bass.” You said blowing smoke out into the night sky.

“Oh rubbish, you’re a damn good bassist or John wouldn’t even give you the time of say.” What Freddie said was true. While John was harsh in his critiques, you knew it was only because he saw the raw talent you had.

You nodded your head only half listening to Freddie, your mind still caught up on trying to imagine how sex with Roger Taylor would be. A bitter frown crossed your lips, you would never fuck Roger Taylor, “I need a refill.” You huffed before promising Fred you would come back immediately after your drink. You pushed your way through the crowd, your arm raised as to not burn anyone with your lit cigarette. You tried desperately to find your bandmates, but alas due to the large crowd it was no use.

Either way, you needed another drink.

You quickly made you way to the bar back inside the house and ordered a shot of whiskey and chased it with a full beer before you ordered another mixed drink. The copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed were finally catching up to you, your face felt hot and flushed and your skin tingled delightfully. You hummed, sipping your drink and making your way to the bathroom to finally break the seal. After checking several of the first-floor bathrooms, only to find their handles locked you frowned in frustration and made your way up the stairs to the second level of Freddie’s mansion before you finally found an unlocked bathroom. You promptly went in and relieved yourself as you exited you ran into a surprisingly firm body, sloshing your drink and theirs on each other’s respective shirts “Who invited you here?” The voice sent a chill of frustration up your spine and to your alcohol flushed face.

You looked up, locking eyes with an equally intoxicated Roger Taylor, you huffed moving to push past him “Freddie did, the other members of your group actually seem to enjoy my company.” You said, once again moving to squeeze past him. Your efforts were to no avail, as he had firmly planted both hands on either side of the door, trapping you in the bathroom. “Get out of my way.” You said impatiently, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re always a right cunt you know that?” he said in a matter of fact tone.

You grit your teeth and clenched your drink harder “You’re the one that’s the cunt, maybe it’s all that groupie pussy that’s ruined your respect for women.”

Roger scoffed, here he was, nearly forty years old and throwing insults at some newbie punk rocker. “I don’t know if I’d call you a woman, maybe a failed guitarist sure, but a woman or lady not so much.” He said crossing his arms over his chest giving you a smug look.

“I think your sticks are too far up your ass, Taylor,” You spoke as you pushed past him. Before you had time to react you felt hands on your shoulders pushing you hard against with wall causing you drop the glass in your hands, allowing it to shatter on the ground and the breath to escape from your lungs, you groaned but didn’t know if it was from the pain of your back colliding with the wall behind you or from the adrenaline you felt rising in your veins and stomach.

Roger’s strong hands held you firmly against the wall and his calloused fingertips brushed against the skin on your collar causing a light shutter to run through your body “I have half a mind to shut you up right here.” He threatened, his usually bright blue eyes now clouding over with something much darker.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the pressure of having his knee right between your legs, but you felt a sudden boldness “Do it,” You pressed, articulating your words and hoping to get a rise out of him.

With that, he pressed his lips against you with force, causing your teeth to clank together and your head to fall back, knocking against the wall. His roughness causing a sultry moan to slip from your lips, “You’re pathetic.” He hissed pulling your hair and tilting your head to expose your neck and leaving hot opened mouth kisses along your jawline to your neck where he harshly bit down causing you to shove him back.

Roger gripped tightly to your hips causing the two of you to stumble backwards from the force of your push “Take me to a bedroom and fuck me already.” You said impatiently. Freddie wouldn’t mind if the two of you had a quick romp in the sheets in one of his many bedrooms, after all he was the one that instigated the whole thing.

The two of you stumbled, a mess of tangled and drunken limbs as you fell back into the first open bedroom you could find. Roger flipped on the light switch, not breaking the kiss and revealing a large well decorated room with an equally large bed in the middle. He shut the door behind him with one arm and shoved you back onto the bed with the other. Your eyes caught your reflection in the side mirror, your hair was a mess accompanied by smeared make up and eyes clouded with lust.

You quickly slipped your boots off and lifted your hips to help Roger take your pants off. Quickly, he flipped you over and pushed you forward. You adjusted yourself, ass in the air and legs spread showing off your already wet pussy. Roger groaned looking at it and ran a finger through your slick folds “You truly are pathetic, you know that, [Y/N]? I’ve barely touched you and here you go making a mess all over Freddie’s sheets.” He inserted two fingers into you agonizingly slow and licked his lips feeling the tightness of you engulf him, “A shit bassist, shit song writer, shit musician, shit person…” He emphasized each of his words with the slow lazy thrusting of his fingers. You let out a choked sob, desperate for him to give you more, “What was that?” He asked smugly, “If you want to get fucked, you’re going to have to be louder for me.” He said before pulling his fingers out leaving you feeling empty.

You pushed back against hand, “No-” you said sharply. You spread your legs further and arched your back “Please,” you hated how he had complete control over the situation, but at the same time loved it.

“Please what?” He asked swiping the head of his cock between your damp folds, intently watching as your juices coated him.

“Fuck me.” You said softly, clenching the bedsheets.

He raised his hand and placed a sharp smack on your ass causing you to jolt “Ah, fuck. Just stick it in already Roger.” You hissed.

Without warning the blond lined up to your entrance and pushed in, not giving you time to adjust. He let out a choking groan, not expecting you to be as tight as you were, “Fucking Christ.” He hissed snapping his hips against yours with purpose.

You gripped the bedsheets and cried out, feeling him stretch your walls unapologetically. There was no foreplay and no care in how either of you handled each other, just wanton need mixed with the mutual resentment you had for each other.

Roger propped one of his legs up to angle deeper into you and leaned over, pushing the side of your face into the mattress as he relentlessly pounded into you, years upon years of frustration he couldn’t hold back. He fucked his failed marriage, arguments with the band, cigarette cravings, and the comments you made about how shitty you thought his drumming was into you as he drove you into the mattress. Your legs shook and eyes rolled into the back of your head from the pleasure you received from the new angle and you let out a string of garbled words neither of you could understand. “This whole party can probably hear how much of a slut you are.” He said slipping his thumb into your mouth to which you greedily sucked on, “I didn’t expect you to have such a tight pussy” He huffed and groaned feeling your walls flutter against him, “’Cos you seemed like such an easy lay.” He let out a breathless laugh, knowing how right he was.

Your arms had given out and were sprawled out in front of you and drool had started to dribble down your chin from Roger’s thumb pressing down on your tongue forcing your mouth open to hear your sinful cries, you knew your legs weren’t going to hold you up much longer and Roger knew that as well.

He quickly pulled out and flipped you over onto your back in a less than graceful manor before he hitched your legs over his hips and pushed himself back in, continuing his relentless pace. You reached your hand into his hair and tugged roughly on his while your other hand raked its nails down his back causing him to arch into your touch and his movement to faulter.

You were surprised to feel a hand slip between your legs and begin rubbing rough circles around your clit, guess chivalry wasn’t dead after all, you squirmed against his touch the stimulation almost becoming too much for you to handle. Your walls twitched, clamping down around Roger, earning a shuttering moan from him.

You were both close.

“R-Rog…” You let out a stuttering moan feeling your climax building in your gut.

“Come on, you can’t be that daft, use your words.” He huffed, gripping your chin to make you face him, “I want this whole party to know who’s fucked you by the time I’m done.” He said through gritted teeth.

You opened your eyes and your mouth hung ajar, breathing heavily as you made eye contact with the mess of a man before you. Roger’s shirt had ridden up, and his pants were half pulled down and accompanied by sweaty and matted hair, you hated how the look in his eyes caused your walls to clamp down hard on his cock, squeezing him as you reached your climax, yelling his name with a hoarse and cracked voice for the whole party downstairs to hear, and the face he made as clenched your thighs and hip and reached his own, releasing hot spurts of come into you. He hunched over you, letting out shaky breaths as he worked you through your orgasm. He hated you but wasn’t a monster.

Roger stopped and swallowed thickly while trying to catch his breath, you glanced over at the mirror seeing red scratched zig zagging on his back and sat in silence, wondering which one of you would cave first and break it. The drummer pulled out of you and tried to hide the whimper that escaped him at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around his sensitive cock but failed, before he tucked himself back into his pants, “Still think you’re a bitch.” He said tucking his shirt back into his pants and tightening his belt.

“You’re a shit lay.” You tried to insult as you got up, steps wavering and some of the evidence of your prior actions leaking down the inside of your thigh.

Roger bit his lip at the sight and watched you pull your pants up, “Right and the whole crowd downstairs couldn’t hear your pathetic voice five minutes ago.” He said before turning to leave, giving you a short wave “Ta,” he said and left, walking downstairs with no shame.

Your hips ached as you walked to the bathroom to clean yourself up, you hated how that was your first penetrative orgasm, and you hated the ache between your legs, and you hated the smug look on Roger’s face after he left because the both of you knew he was probably the best lay you’ve had. But you couldn’t find it in you to be angry, not while in your post orgasm haze. You walked down the steps, taking it easy, and made your way to the bar and ordered a mixed drink to quench your thirst, desperately hoping that the stares you received weren’t because these strangers knew you just had been fucked so hard you could still feel the muscles in your legs twitching or that you could still feel the remains of your and Roger’s essence leaking out of you even after you cleaned yourself off.

You ordered a shot and a beer, quickly down the shot and moved to drink the beer before it was taken from your hands. You turned to see Freddie nursing what used to be your beer with a knowing smirk on his face, “[Y/N],” He said in a sing song voice.

“I didn’t fuck Roger” You said defensively.

Freddie grinned and handed you back your beer which you promptly drank out of “I didn’t say that, but you just confirmed.” He nudged your side, “Was it good? You know I caught Roger walking down the steps and he flashed me this grin.” He paused to order a drink, “And you know what I said to myself? I said, oh no Roger only makes that face after he fucked a good cunt. Then what do you know” He shrugged in an animated fashion “I see none other than you, darling, walking down the stairs, stiff as a board.” Freddie was about to continue rambling before you cut him off.

“I hate him.” You said placing a cigarette between your lips and lighting it, inhaling deeply.

Freddie practically ignored your comment, “But it was good wasn’t it?” Your silence was all he needed to answer “See!” He pointed out.

As the night continued so did your consumption of alcohol, you felt your drink being taken out of your hands and a blurry figure and closed on eye to focus your vision. It was a very pissed off Benny, “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since we got here.” He said, drinking your drink.

You whined and leaned onto Benny’s chest “Hey, I was drinking that.” Your words slurred together.

“You look like a mess.” He said wrapping an arm around you to help steady your poor balance, your make up was smeared, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled. But thankfully your drunken state covered for your earlier romp in the sheets. “We have to go home,” He said pulling you along, “Come on.”

Your steps wavered as you began walking out “Wait,” You said abruptly stopping, “I have to say bye to Fred.”

Benny rolled his eyes “You’ve been with Fred all night, I’m sure he’ll understand that we need to leave.” You let out a whiney protest, “It’s 4am, [Y/N]” he said as if pointing out the early hour in the morning was going to make you want to leave more.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and firmly stood your ground, “Fine, for god’s sake Joe go find Freddie.” Benny said running a frustrated hand through his hair.

To you what seemed like hours but was truly minutes passed and Freddie was before you, and equally as drunk mess as you were, hanging off Jim’s shoulder. The two of you held each other in a drunken embrace and Freddie kissed your cheek goodbye before Benny pulled you off.

As Benny and Joe practically pushed you into the car you caught sight of a familiar blonde who was also about to leave, you rolled your window down “Hey!” You shouted, catching Taylor’s attention “You’re a bitch!” You shouted, to which he flipped you the finger and yelled ‘fuck off’ as you and your bandmates drove away.

After dropping off your two other bandmates at home Benny draped your arm across his back and held you at the waist, as you struggled to stand. “’M gonna puke.” You said feeling your stomach doing flips and a sudden cold chill crawl up your spine and settle where your ears and jaw connected. You moved to kneel on the soft grass on the side of your parking area and your hair fell around your face as you retched, trying to use your arms to hold yourself up, they were so tired and your elbows jerked, threatening to give out.

Benny pulled your hair back, seeing a large and deep mark of varying shades of red and purple on your neck, “What the fuck is this?” He asked poking the side of your neck when you finished puking and started to regain your breath. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and mumbled some incoherent words, “What?” He asked again.

“I fucked Roger!” You said loudly, sitting back on the concrete.

“Ssshhh,” He said putting a hand over your mouth “You’re going to wake the whole bloody neighborhood.”

You swayed in your seated position and fell into Benny’s chest, “I fucked Roger,” You said in a loud whisper.

“Yeah, I got that much.” Benny said, hooking his arms under your shoulders and pulling you up with him, the two of you made the long arduous walk to up to your apartment building. Benny laid you in your bed and unlaced your boots, you let out a huff still frustrated with yourself, “Was it good at least?” your roommate asked while handing you a glass of water.

You sat up in your bed and gulped it down “Yes,” you said in a defeated voice “But it doesn’t change anything, I still can’t stand the bloody prick.”

Benny hummed “Right,” He said nodding his head and taking the glass from your hands, “We can talk more about this in a few hours, the birds are chirping.”

---

When you awoke a few hours later you groaned, clutching your head feeling the insistent pounding of a hangover rattling through you and an ache between your legs, “Shit,” You said out loud remembering your actions from the night before. You got out of bed seeing you were still in last night clothes and slipped into an oversized tee shirt and put on some sunglasses to help shield your eyes from the bright light of day before you shuffled out of your bedroom and into the bathroom to find something to curb your headache.

You grabbed the pill bottle of over the counter pain killer and made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water and were greeted by your bandmates all in your living room. You opened your mouth to issue an apology for being a drunken mess last night but before you could get words out Joe interrupted you “Don’t worry, Haz puked all over the nice tile near Freddie’s pool right before we left so you weren’t the worst off.” Haz hid his face bashfully and nodded at you feeling your pain.

You grabbed a glass of water and made yourself comfortable in your usual spot in the living room, not caring that you weren’t wearing pants. You were comfortable enough with your bandmates and paid half the rent here so you really should be able to do whatever you damn well pleased in the place you called home. Much to your dismay you were already thrown a heap of questions “So I heard you fucked Roger last night.” Joe said bluntly.

You paused bringing your glass of water to your mouth to drink and were thankful your sunglasses hid your expression, “Yeah we fucked. What of it?” You asked defensively.

Joe made a face and put his hands up, “I was only making conversation.” He muttered bringing up his cup of tea before drinking it.

You were not going to hear the end of it.

Chapter 2: We Can Hate Each Other in the Morning >>>

[novaviis]

Snaibsel Renaissance Fair AU

Part One. 

@ghost-in-the-stalls briefly mentioned snaibsel going to renfairs like months ago in my inbox and my dumb gay brain latched onto it like a corvid to a shiny piece of tinfoil, and now it’s a full-on au. 

Artemis is a former high school dropout, got her GED, troubled past, the whole deal. She's on the mend, trying to earn money to go to college. Doing really well for herself. She just got a job at the local Renn Fair for the summer. Not thrilled about it at first, but it's something, right? She’s decent on horseback, so she’s got that under her belt already (her Dad was obsessed with training her and her sister in every sport on fucking Earth, along with some more… nonconventional ones.) She’s been hired to ride in the jousting tournaments and give snot-nosed little kids horse rides around a little circle, shit like that. She’ll give it a trial run for a week or two, at least until she finds something better.

Zee is a bit of a veteran at the Fair already as a Sorceress. This absolute powerhouse of a woman in full renaissance garb, like Morticia Addams and Morgan le Fay were mixed together in one 5’5” bombshell. She runs the magic show, held every weekend on the jousting field for the crowd of wide-eyed spectators in the stands. She’s no amateur magician, that’s for sure. She’s not pulling bunnies out of hats or pulling off cheap illusions.

Artemis stays behind from her orientation on her first day to watch the show – mostly because he brother in law isn’t picking her up until later and she needs to kill time. She’s heard of this “Sorceress Zatanna” show, but hasn’t really seen her yet. She’s sitting in the front row, amused enough opening act of musicians and the Fair Jester to not be completely bored, but she’d definitely checking her phone for the whole show to be over.

And then Zatanna comes on. She owns the stage set up on the patchy grass immediately. In the torchlights she really sells the whole medieval vibe (the extra florescent lights and the microphone kind take points away from authenticity but they’re easy enough to ignore). Zatanna starts off small. She pulls a crow out of her sleeve and releasing it, having it swoop at the crowd for some thrills before perching on her shoulder. She takes a broomstick and makes it levitate several feet off the ground, even sitting on it and raising it higher. At one point, Artemis looks down at her phone and sees Roy texting that he’ll be there in 20 minutes. As she’s putting her phone back into her sweater though, she looks up and Zatanna is right there. In front of her, at the edge of the stand, grinning back at her. Claims that since someone is obviously not satisfied enough with her show, she’ll make it a little more emersive. Before Artemis can say now, Zatanna is taking her hand and guiding her out into the centre of the field and the rickety wooden stage. Artemis can barely see the faces of the crowd anymore, but she can feel them all watching her and it’s more than a little unnerving.

Zatanna pulls out a deck of cards that Artemis vaguely identify as Tarot. She announces to the audience that she’s going to give her new friend here a reading. Artemis picks four cards out of the deck and Zatanna spreads them out on the table, and turns the first three over.

Judgement, Ace of Cups reversed, and The Star.

There’s a bit of a pause on Zatanna’s face as she reads the cards, before she smiles fleetingly and looks up at Artemis – for a half second too long, if only because Artemis can’t breathe through it. Finally, though, Zatanna announces her reading. “Your past has been clouded by harsh Judgement, from others, from those close to you, and mostly from yourself. You’ve been binding to what people have expected of you. Your present, however, reveals a new sense of self-love and intuition. Though you still struggle with repressed emotions, this card shows progress….” Zatanna stops there, and looks up at Artemis. “Hitting the mark?”

“Yeah,” Artemis shrugs a little nervously, echoed by the laugher of the crowd. “A little too close.”

Zatanna raises her hands. “Don’t shoot the messanger. I only read the cards,” she smiles. “Your third card predicts the future, with the path you are on right now. The Star represents renewal – in hope, in faith, and in purpose. So, at least you know you’re on the right track. This last card, however…” She picks up the card and shows it face out to Artemis without looking at it herself. “Is a message directly to you, and overall look at who you are at heart. And,” with a grin, she flicks her fingers and the card vanishes in a puff of violet smoke, “it will only reveal itself to you.”

The crowd applauds the slight of hand, and Artemis is left a little perplexed as Zatanna calls for more applause for her assistant, before allowing her to go back to her seat. Artemis does slink back to the stands, but not without a few glances back over her shoulder, still wondering what just happened.

After that, Zatanna is done with the small tricks. Evidently, the tarot reading was a bit of a halftime show. She pulls out the grander illusions, vanishing from the stand only to reappear in the balcony reserved for the “King and Queen” of the Fair, who play along in delight as Zatanna steals a bottle of mead and reappears in another burst of smoke back on the stage. She chants in a strange tongue, that almost sounds like backwards English, before each trick. Artemis is completely entranced. Zatanna finishes the show by telling a story of an ancient witch who was so powerful and feared that it took a King’s entire army to take her down. Before she was burnt at the stake she put a curse on the King’s most valued treasure – the very Chalise that the Knights fought for at the Fair every summer. The King’s soul was bound to the Chalise, and the curse would only be lifted once one she deemed worthy won it.

To prove to any “doubters” that the story was true, she has the Chalise itself appear on the clothed table in the centre of the stage. Then, with all the fanfare of a grand finale, she chants a spell that causes all of the torches and electric lights to go out in one burst. Once the thrilled shrieks of the crowd have died down, a glowing figure remerges out of the Chalise from the pitch darkness, taking the form of an undead King. The figure rises into the air and flies over the crowd, until Zatanna “seals” it back into the Chalise. Cue all the torches reigniting and the lights coming on, to the standing ovation of the crowd. Artemis remains seated, honestly still blown away by the show.

She hadn’t thought that this place had that big of a budget for special effects, damn.

With the rest of the crowd on their feet and slowly beginning to shuffle out of the Fairgrounds, Zatanna takes her bow and makes her exit – but not before looking back to Artemis and giving her a little wink. Artemis, still confused as ever, doesn’t think much of it beyond wow. She joines the rest of the crowd in heading out of the grounds, through a long forest path to the parking lot were Roy was waiting to get her.

An hour later, as she’s taking her clothes off to get into her pajamas, she sits on her bed and pulls her socks off – only for something to fall out and slip under her bed. She hadn’t even felt it there. Artemis reaches under her bed for it, expecting a leaf or something from the stable where she’d been getting acquainted with the horses.

It’s a tarot card.

Artemis sits there, on her bedroom floor, holding the little card in her hand. The gold foil catches the light of her bedside lamp. She’s too dumbfounded to really react at first, but as she turns it over to see the Queen of Swords, her mind absolutely spins with every possible way Zatanna could have pulled off that trick without her noticing.

Artemis can barely sleep that night. She spends an hour sitting in bed just staring at the card like it’s going to give her the answers. How the hell did she do that?

[seokjxnnie]

celestial (pt. 2) | kth (m)

↠ genre: (future) smut, angst, demon au, incubus!taehyung x f reader ↠ warnings: blood and violence ↠ length: 5.6k

↳ her flesh and blood imparts immortality to any demon, but the incubus protecting her from the hunt requires something else of her body.

↞ part 1 | masterlist | part 3 ↠

a/n: thanks for your patience! it’s always such a struggle to write the first couple parts bc it’s boring trying to introduce characters, concepts, etc. through exposition :(( but thank you for your feedback it’s been my favourite meal ❤️

She trembled at the sensation of his hot breath grazing her neck as he cascaded kisses and licks down the curve of her neck. His lips were soft, plump, and its departure from her skin nearly elicited a whine of discontent from her throat. But he closed right back in with the sensual tickle of wandering digits that drifted to the hem of her pants, curling around the waistband. She sighed in anticipation, feeling him drag the material down her hips.

Her eyes jolted open. A panic that electrified her body brought her to urgently sit up. Her tautness calmed when she realized she was in her own clothes and in her own bed with sheets that were fluffy. She pushed out a tired exhale as her head wilted on her shoulders, fingertips kneading her temples. It was really just a dream this time.

Her legs swung off the edge of the bed and her feet flattened against her floor when she paused.

The air was oddly quieter today.

She had awoken well into the afternoon, having only slept once the sun had risen. Neighbouring residents must’ve already been out enjoying their weekend then, leaving the dormitory vacant and quiet. But still, it was calmer. Too calm.

A tilt of her head out her agape bedroom window confirmed her suspicions. Accustomed to the years of waking up to unwelcomed monsters in her bedroom, outside her window, bordering her vicinity, silence and solitude stuck out like a sore thumb. For the first time, she registered what it was like to be completely alone. The stillness would’ve been solacing if it wasn’t more arrestingly unfamiliar and eerie.

She stared down at her bracelet and thumbed the mahogany beads, only now tangibly confronting their purpose in keeping her surroundings clear of demons. It only further hammered in the awareness of how real this all was, regardless if she wanted it to be or not.

Following was a tangle that tightened in her stomach, recalling her curt departure from the group of men that had essentially stood between her and the brink of death. They had stopped her from becoming a meal, aided her recovery, and evaporated away the big fat question mark that had branded her for as long as she could remember. They had even been anticipating and preparing for the dramatic change that would come with her 20th birthday for years. And her grand indebted response was to flee their estate.

However, a night to recover from pulsing temples and dwindling vision allowed her to better wrap her head around her new reality, once the overwhelming first impressions had subsided. Now, the guilt associated with a gratitude improperly expressed was the symptom that currently plagued her. Despite wanting to be far from the uncanny concepts revolving around her “celestial blood”, the girl had to admit she was unrested by how she left things after what they did for her, as accommodatingly as they could’ve been given the unforgiving circumstances.

That exact unrest somehow brought her to the front of the shrine. She hardly even remembered exactly how she ended up here. All she knew was an urge that drew her out of bed and arrived her just outside the gate of the sanctified establishment. She wasn’t equipped with a plan in the least, even her own intentions were unclear. Maybe there was something comforting about this place that magnetized her. Regardless, a thumping heart came with the uncertainty of what to do next as she stared on at the rustic and humble exterior.

A swift tension claimed her figure when the front door unexpectedly slid open. To relieve her of the pressure of initiating, Namjoon greeted her with a warm smile at the entrance. “Princess, happy to see you looking healthy.” Relief freshened his face upon sight of her coloured and glowing skin, opposite to the paleness that sullied her last night. He stepped down the porch stairs towards her.

Seokjin appeared and followed behind him. “How are you feeling?” his voice casted a gladness.

She could only return the welcome with widened eyes. “Good, better, I—how did you know I was here?”

“We could sense you,” Namjoon replied.

“We could actually smell you from the next street over,” Jungkook blurted from the front doors behind the pair of broad shoulders that arrived in front of her. The curious excitement to see her poured the rest of the residents out onto the porch. Even the incubus quietly leaned against the frame, face hardened by a stoic quality.

She avoided fixing on his gaze for too long. A hard gulp travelled down her throat. “S-Smell me?”

She had only now realized Seokjin and Namjoon had already began guiding her in past the gates and towards the rest of them.

Seokjin cocked his head in disapproval at the poor word choice from the youngest member. “He just means we as demons have heightened senses is all.”

“Did you come to stay for dinner with us?” Jimin’s fluffy locks bounced in rhythm to the beam playing in his voice.

With the generous vibrancy aimed directly at her, her jaw stuttered, uncertain if she could be accompanied by these handsome faces for the rest of the evening. “Oh, no, I… uh, I really just came to thank you guys for last night.” It was the lack of preparation for how the situation was going to unfold, the unfamiliarity in the demonstration of demons showing amiability, that flustered her so that the only speech she could form was splintered.

“Princess, I can hear your stomach growling,” he snickered in retort to her protest.

Her lips pursed in embarrassment as arms folded over her abdomen that apparently made noises she didn’t hear. “Please don’t call me that,” she muttered.

“Besides, we have a birthday cake for you!” Hoseok’s expression lit up with a broad grin.

“We’ve actually had the cake since last night. But then Taehyung brought you home bloody and unconscious, so we thought ‘Ah shit, you know what? Maybe now is not the best time’,” Yoongi deadpanned, earning himself an assembly of uncertain and disbelieved looks from his housemates, all of which failed to faze him. Only, except the sombre Taehyung, who instead wordlessly left and returned inside.

She took a second to silently acknowledge to herself his withdrawal before Yoongi’s refreshingly brutal honesty elicited a snort from her. Her taut lips smoothed into a soft smile. “You guys got me a cake? That’s…” a warmth blossomed across the plump of her cheeks as she peered back at the bright eyes looking at her, “so sweet.”

With everything that had occupied her, it had once again slipped from her mind this special day for her. While she had forgotten about it, they had already intended a celebration for it. It seemed as though everyone had remembered about her birthday except her, but that might’ve been because the mass majority of the demon kind had been anticipating this day much more than she ever could.

Nevertheless, barely more than strangers or not, how could she refuse them when they’ve bought her cake?

“Oh, no, maybe you should…” she gasped and reached towards Namjoon. Knife in hand, he was struggling to steady the halved onion as it wobbled on its rounded side atop the cutting board. “Lay it down on its flat side so you don’t cut yourself.” Flipping it to lie level to the plank, she lightly tittered as he shame-facedly nodded in illumination to her insight.

Surrendering to their insistent invitation to dinner, the household was bustling in meal preparation now, with Jimin and Hoseok setting the table, Jungkook and Yoongi in the kitchen assisting Seokjin in cooking, and Namjoon apathetically casted aside to occupy himself with some novice onion chopping for his own safety and of those around him. Adamant in barring the birthday girl from doing any sort of labour at her own celebration, her persistence earned her the minute responsibility of seeing through that Namjoon doesn’t miraculously burn the sacred shrine down. Taehyung was nowhere in sight.

“Jungkook, did you pick up green onions from the store like I asked?” Seokjin’s eyes narrowed under furrowed brows as he searched the open fridge.

“Yup.” The youngest sauntered over and dragged out two separate bags of green stem bunches from the crisper drawers. “I couldn’t figure out which of the two were green onions, so I bought both.”

Seokjin’s tongue prodded his teeth in aggravation as he glanced into the plastic sacks. “Amazing, because you still managed to fuck up,” he huffed, following an exacting tone. “You didn’t buy green onions. These are chives and leeks.”

Jimin’s face of mischief peeked into the kitchen, a howl of mocking laughter readying at the tip of her tongue. “Dude, you don’t know what green onions are?”

“Why the shit do they all look the same?” the youngest cried in disbelief.

“Jungkook, you know there are signs there for you to read, right? They’re there to help you, right?” Yoongi paused in his soup brewing to squint with genuine perplexity.

“Shut up, I’ll go buy the right ones,” the latter grumbled vexingly.

A sigh rasped in Seokjin’s throat as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “God, no. Your fuckass is probably going to come back with eggplants or something if I let you go again. It’s fine, leeks will do.” With a glare, he antagonistically grabbed the bags of failure from Jungkook, whose eyes were stained with a venomous glower.

The girl was slightly taken back at the hostility that was a possibility amidst everyone’s kind spirit, all the while having to stifle amused chuckles at their childish quarrel. She turned back to Namjoon, who remained quiet and uninvolved towards the spat in reflection of the deflating spiritual exhaustion he was unfortunately accustomed to. He promptly moved on.

“We’re sorry about last night. I know it must’ve all been very overwhelming, and god did we wish it could’ve happened differently,” he sighed with an apologetic shake of his head.

The edge of the kitchen counter nuzzled her hip as she leaned against it, peering up at him as his wrist gingerly rocked the chopping knife against the vegetables. “Not at all. I should really thank you guys for taking me in after… that.” Her fingers curled into fists, her arms enveloped her chest, a cold sweat casted over her skin. Images of the unparalleled, gruesome face of the monster child was perpetually singed into the back of her mind. She took a slow breath. “I was a mess last night and couldn’t properly tell you how grateful I was… am.”

His volume sympathetically softened, “And Taehyung is… the way he is,” his head cocked and his lips shrugged, “but he means well, believe it or not. When he brought you home yesterday, he was pretty hard on himself for allowing you to get hurt. I think he’s still beating himself up over it, thinking ‘if he had been on time’…” There was a brief darkness that draped over his eyes that kept her tension steadfast.

The same bead bracelet that he wears wasn’t just to bound him as her familiar, it was also to contain his strength, Namjoon continued to explicate. Taehyung might’ve been chosen because of his inborn incredible strength, but if it weren’t for the limitations of the bracelet, he’d probably surpass the combined strength of the remaining six of them.

A gloom tautened Namjoon’s face, seemingly reminiscing something unpleasant.

Before Taehyung had met them, he was a recklessly freewheeling teenager, getting irrepressibly stronger and stronger as he matured. More and more, controlling his powers and impulses as an incubus slipped from his grip, and he began killing demons and mortals left and right, sucking their life energy until they were dry. Behind his untamed violence, though, the monk saw a scared kid who was a slave to his own unhinged force, and decided to take him in. Curbing Taehyung’s strength and training him for years to instead channel it into being a familiar and protector, he’d learn the values of self-control and his priority of the celestial mortal’s safety. Now, he wears the beads without a thought of removing it, in fear of unleashing what’s been bottled and hurting those around him with it.

Her apprehensive fingers tweezed the side seams of her shirt. There was a tightening at the edge of her throat as she recalled the vague visual of his bare fists cutting through a skull and leaving a cavernous pit where a face used to be. And that might’ve only been a pedestrian demonstration of the whole of his power.

She sucked on her cheeks, now reading the incubus’s earlier withdrawal and absence as a by-product of blame. There might’ve been a twinge of remorse for snippily kicking him out last night after all he had done to save her. “Where might he be now?” she tentatively inquired.

A pace down a suggested hallway brought her to the shrine’s back doors that opened out to a picturesque stretch of courtyard, inviting in breezes of grass-scented air and staging the colours and bounty blossoming in the early summer weather. Taehyung sat on the bordering steps leading down into the backyard, his back turned to her. She didn’t need to warn of her presence with the tread of her foot or the clearing of her throat when he interrupted the still silence with the slight turn of his head to meet her eyes.

A fleeting yet palpable shudder coursed her spine when his arresting face recapped the unsolicited, sensual dream that she awoke from this morning, which she hastily worked to suppress. Even more aggressive was the subdual of the reminder that he had previously stripped her naked and tasted her skin with the run of his lips. It was to stop the bleeding, she tried to remind herself in good faith.

His illegible gaze lingered as his lips remained unmoving, and it grew a crippling fluster within her. She tore her eyes away to fix on the ground instead. “Dinner’s almost ready. They wanted me to come get you,” her rigid words scarcely left the edge of her tight mouth.

The familiar’s voice and expressions continued in its absence. He turned back around.

She sighed with a step forward. “Listen, I know I’ve been—”

“I’m sorry, you know.”

He remained still, his murmurs quiet, nearly getting lost in the soars of the wind. The girl paused in her tracks, taken aback by the unanticipated tone of sincerity, playing the unanticipated words of apology.

“If I had just gotten there in time, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I’m sorry I let that happen.”

Taehyung wasn’t one with a way with words, clear in the way his speech was muffled and tentative as they were forced out past lips that were only sparingly ajar, constrained by a tautened jaw. Nonetheless, the regret that his voice conveyed was vivid. It delivered a heaviness upon her for having misinterpreting his character completely.

The beats in her chest accelerated and moisture took over her palms, but she swallowed as she continued in her plod forward. His stare lifted to her as she sat down next to him. It was only then did she realized she had never looked at him long before a rattled retreat stole her gaze away. It had kept her from catching the gentle quality hiding in the vast of his irises that, though were still piercing, adorned a deep brown colour instead of a sharp crimson.

“Whatever happened, happened,” she started before hesitation caught up with her and prescribed a belated translation of her thoughts. “But, I’m still sitting here, with all of me still intact, because of you. So… thank you.”

Their eyes kept their affixation on one another. The surrounding hush seemingly began to escalate to a deafening roar. The mesmerizing web of bronzed pleats in his irises were easy to get lost in, threatening of an unyielding capture. She almost didn’t register it when he inched forward ever so slowly, until she felt his temperature closing in on her, with the palpable daubs of his breaths that tantalized the surface of her skin. Nearer were the pillows of his lips, framed by sharp edges that she could never decipher, especially when they moved to intrude the calm air with a rasping whisper.

“Are you going to thank me properly, then?”

Her respires idled at the cap of her throat as she lagged in grasping his query, to which he exploited with the stretch of his palm fastening down on her hip. Her chest relentlessly drummed as immobility claimed her limbs.

Taehyung leaned in more, so her ear could capture him in his full husk. “It’s been years since I’ve had my energy refilled,” Taehyung almost growled. “Just a kiss will do... for now.”

Hair’s breadth away from her neck, she could almost feel the plump of his lips shape against her skin. A foreign feeling she’s never known before clung to her bones, like a simmering of an unignorable, unparalleled, unescapable need that appropriated the control of her own body. She quivered as the apparent otherworldly force within her hungered to melt into his instigation.

But…

Right.

 He is an incubus after all.

Nearly gasping as if she was finally surfacing for air from a smother, her hands splayed across his chest to thrust him away. “Fucking Christ, you’re full of shit,” she hissed, exasperated, leaping to her feet.

“What if we doubled down on security?” Namjoon’s words made garbled by a mouthful of cake toppled from lips that pursed to catch crumbs before they fell. The vague proposal made the girl stiffen in her chair with cheeks that were already rosy from the birthday song that had just unsolicitedly sprung on her. “Is Taehyung alone enough to keep an eye on her 24/7?”

“What, like, should we enrol as students at her college?”

“I’m too old and withered to try to fit in with a bunch of doe-eyed, spring chickens.”

“Exactly. And then what? Apply to be her roommates?”

“I mean, that’s not a bad idea. Taehyung as her roommate could keep him close without seeming suspicious.”

“I don’t think her dorms are co-ed.”

“Yeah, and Taehyung is nearly six feet with hips like a plank board and ass that wouldn’t bounce the quarter but miss it entirely. He could never pass as a girl.”

“Jimin probably could.”

“Me? But Yoongi’s got the legs for it.”

The aforementioned cocked his brow in doubt, mouth opening in protest when he stopped and looked down at his legs. The rebuttal dissolved from his face and relaxed with a shrug of agreement instead. He did have nice legs.

Everyone contributed except for her familiar, but she couldn’t bring herself to his eyes the entire dinner. “Guys, guys, please, I don’t think that’s necessary,” her hands waved with rejection front of her insistently.

Hoseok nodded regretfully, sighed, and apologized on for them trying to make decisions revolving her life without a request for her discretion. Even then, it didn’t stop Taehyung from joining her side heading to lecture come Monday morning. Her classmate was nowhere in sight.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Unforgiving murmurs filtered past gritted teeth when he followed all the way to the seat beside her in class.

“I’m here to learn about the range of our responsibilities and civil rights as we confront moral—the fuck do you think I’m here for? I’m here to make sure no one else takes a chomp out of you again,” he hissed in retort, shrill with sarcasm, slumped back in his chair.

“I don’t need—“

The incubus straightened in his seat when the professor and his couple of teaching assistants entered to commence lecture. There was something cold in the way his gaze narrowed as he eyed the teaching team. The timeline of class discourse didn’t leave a lot of room and volume for her to further discuss—rather, argue with him. Even more so when, at the dismissal of class, he got right up and treaded down the steps towards the front of the class without a warning of his intensions to her

She watched as he caught the gaze of one of the TA’s, Sunmi, the pretty one with sharp eyes and cascading locks of lush, as he took assertive strides towards her. With his back to her and the distance between rendering their conversation inaudible, she intently squinted to investigate a purpose. What she found was a shift in the woman’s body language when her lips curled into something coy and her fingers laced around the waves of her hair.

Grimacing, she shrank back in presumption of the provocative nature in their exchange. Quickly, she was introduced to doubt that he could be capable of anything beyond his impulses as an incubus. If she wasn’t going to provide what he needed, then he must be exploiting the new hunting grounds, where he’s found his next prey.

“Please just don’t hurt her.” Something between a sigh and a grumble escaped her lips before he could complain about her disappearing when he caught up to her in her next class. He had found her all too easily, sniffing her out in the vastness of the campus and its attendants strangely quick.

“What?”

“My TA,” her voice fell to an intimate volume when the professor started lecture. “I know you’ve got needs. Whatever you want from her, just don’t hurt her.”

A disbelieved huff rocked his head in exasperation. “She’s a demon.”

Shock swelled her eyes open.

“I came to give her a warning. She insisted she doesn’t plan on hurting you. Steer clear of her anyway.”

Even at a hush, his words laden with vex straightened her forward and sank her in her seat, tautening her with a shame for misreading the situation so grossly. The pen in her digits hovering above her notebook fluttered fitfully.

“Besides,” the familiar demanded her attention right back when he seized her wrist, his other hand jutting an antagonistic finger at the air above her bracelet. “This means I don’t gain anything from anyone else but you. You know I belong to only you, right?”

Fuck.

He had to go and say gratuitously arresting words like that and now she was impeaching her own heart for beating so quick and her face for being vulnerable to a rosy flush while her betraying thoughts echoed reminders of demons having augmented senses. She didn’t even want to breathe in case the stammers in her respires was a ten-fold blare to the opposition.

Choi Minho (choimh@snu.com) [4:53pm]: The argumentation assignments have been marked and will be ready for pick up in office hours. I’ll be extending mine for another hour if you’re still on campus and would like them immediately. Otherwise, they’ll be available in Sunmi’s office hours starting tomorrow. Good work, everyone!

The conclusion of her day was kept from dismissal in receipt of an email that underlyingly warned of a brief window in which she could avoid receiving her grade from the other TA – the demon. It’s not like she truly did fear that Sunmi’s intentions superimposed with her mortal demise, but she thought she should cautiously heed her familiar’s warning as her ignorant kindness had already betrayed her previously.

Taehyung had left her alone for the rest of the day, but having spotted him lounging in the thick of a tree branch that towered over the window of one of her classrooms, she knew he was close by. So, she desperately adhered to that reassurance when she knocked on Minho’s office door and Sunmi answered instead.

“Hey! Here for your argumentation assignment?” she welcomed with a grin, unflinching in contrast to her opposite.

With the unexpectant keeping her breath captive at the edge of her throat, the girl didn’t respond. Just as detained by anxiety were her limbs that were uncertain in how to follow when Sunmi walked back around to the office desk splayed by wads of paperwork. She was chilled by the exemplification of how well supernatural beings melded in with plain sight. Throughout the semester, along with the email exchanges and the trading of friendly passing-by smiles, not once had she suspected that the teaching assistant she shared mornings with three times a week was a demon. She thought the only unhuman thing about her was her ethereal beauty.

The tutor's bewitching gaze searched for hers when she remained by the door. “Well, come in. I don’t bite,” she chuckled. “Minho just took a quick bathroom break and asked if I could tag in for a few minutes.”

Is she really not going to address the elephant in the room?

She watched as the TA plucked a grape from her Tupperware to drop into her mouth. She ate human food, and the student hoped it coincided with her abstinence from human meat, just like Taehyung and them.

“I remember marking yours. It was impressive.” Sunmi had her eyes down at the stack of assignments that she flipped through, which prompted the latter to consider the lack of a hungry glare fixed on her. “Ah, here,” she pulled out one decorated by an attractive grade.

A startled gladness brightened the girl’s eyes, shocked that her work laced with time-crunched panic had still earned her a grade as lavish as that. She took a step closer to verify the mark

“It was well structured, you made some strong points, and your conclusion was thoughtful. The only criticism I have is in your second point.” Sunmi flipped to the appropriate page and her polished nail gestured to the exert in question. The other girl moved closer to follow. “Your opening here is a statement rather than an argument opposing the claim, which steered you towards a doubtful warrant. Apart from this, you have an excellent paper.”

She replied to the TA’s praise with a bashful smile. A couple more strides closed their distances so she could receive the assignment extended out to her. “Thank you, I’m—”

Her proximity brought into her line of view the opened laptop on the desk. Displaying was an email browser. Logged in was Choi Minho’s account.

It wasn’t Minho who sent out the email.

Everything spun and a pang struck the back of her head. A couple blinks weren’t enough to straighten her oscillating vision, but her affixed wrists above her head and the silhouette hovering over her were enough to interpret that she had been thrown down and pinned to the surface of the desk.

“S-Sunmi?” The bewilderment crippling her volume rendered a whimper hardly penetrative to the air between them. Her eyes settled only to instill dread within her when she watched youthful brown eyes mutate to an eerie yellow, the blacks narrowing to menacing slits. Her black hair blanched to a silver and proliferated in length until it draped along her sides and blanketed her victim in a sleek smother. The girl struggled, but paled in competence against the unfaltering force. Apprehensive quakes swathed her when a scaly hand gripped her jaw to lock her head in place.

“God, you smell so fucking good.” Ravenous hisses were punctuated by the slithers of a thin, forked tongue in and out of a fang-bearing mouth. The graze of her nose dragged against her jaw, then the outline of her neck.

“No, please,” she feebly begged. However, the greed, the appetite, the animalistic keen in the aura that pinned her down bordered near a promise of trepidation, and it made her eyes stung with hot tears. The laden terror weakened her with nausea when Sunmi boasted her sharp smirk that outlined threatening fangs before they dipped down towards her clavicle. She gasped with a scream preparing to leap from the edge of her lips, “Taehy—!"

Her breath hitched when the daggers broke skin. A deafening pain swallowed her entirety in quavers. But just as quick, the fangs were wrenched away.

A stillness, a soundlessness settled down in the air around her. She was alone. There was a slight draft that wasn’t there before, or maybe the fright made her body tremor with a chill.

Taehyung.

Weakly, the pads of her fingers travelled to gingerly dab at the ache on her neck. The demon hadn’t completely buried herself into her skin, and so left hardly anything more than a couple of nicks. So, why was the ache thundering through her veins as agonizing as it was? Her digits drew away and hovered over her face, telling a story of the light trickles of viscous crimson that dyed her skin.

She fought the limpness that threatened to colonize control over her movements as she struggled to pull herself up, only to tumble off the edge of the wood and slump to the cold, unwelcoming floor instead. Panting as the pain was ensnaring the stability of her vision now, she pushed herself off the floor and pulled towards the frame of the window that was now open.

The sound of Taehyung throwing open the office window behind the desk and dragging the assailant out must’ve gotten lost in her shrill sheath of fear, because when managing to gather her torso onto the sill, she found the incubus and snake-like woman moving in blurs produced by inhuman speed in the vacant lot of gravel five storeys below. Although in a dizzy haze that couldn’t keep up, she couldn’t neglect the hostility plastered on the familiar’s face. An acquainted red glowed in his irises.

Sunmi proved to be a capable opponent as the two donned tatters in their clothing and scrapes on their surface, yet neither had incapacitated the other. That is, until Taehyung with peaked fury hurled her across the field and she destructively collided with a tree. Seemingly in a fraction of a second, he closed their distances and she doubled over with a choked grunt.

When his hand retreated and dripped with streams of blood, blood that wasn’t his own, it was resolved that he had burrowed his fist into her abdomen. Sunmi hissed, hands folding over the gape left over. She must’ve understood the odds were no longer in her favour, because when a gust blew, she disappeared with it.

His glare darted back in forth in searching before ultimately cursing for letting her get away. Though, the damage done was near irreparable, so she shouldn’t make it too far before expiration catches up to her.

Sighing with relief, the girl fell to her knees and wilted against the wall. The roaring ache was subsiding now, and control of her own limbs was returning to her. Her familiar somehow scaled over the window and joined her side in a blink. He panted, and she almost didn’t recognize the concern and guilt that plagued his face.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung carefully reached his fingers out to embrace her jaw and tilt her head so he could observe her wound. His eyes softened back to the normal brown.

Her feeble and unsteady fingers gripped onto the cuffs of his sleeves, suddenly shivering in the relieving sensations of security allying with his presence. For the first time, she yearned for the warmth he offered, and she learned into it. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Surprisingly, she found a voice, although frail.

“I came here as fast as I could, as soon as I sensed she was close to you. And I was still late.”

She swallowed dryness at his tone darkened by a self-chastisement. “You’re here now and I’m safe. You came before she did a lot of damage – just a couple scratches. I’m not even bleeding anymore.”

His gaze found hers, and it seized her respires to see a glimpse of tender eyes. Her grip found his shoulders and tightened when he took her into his arms and stood up, carrying her effortlessly. He set her down on the desk, his hips against her knees when he closed in and his digits moved to undo the top buttons of her shirt. She gasped, limbs saturated with tension. “What are you—?”

He paused and glanced with firm eyes that sent a voltage down her spine.

Right.

She gulped and retired her resistances for him to dip his head and nuzzle her neck with his nose. His sturdy hands gripped her waist and fixed her in place. Then, he once again introduced ache when his tongue dabbed at the bite marks. He moved in deeper against her skin with the drag of his mouth and the swirls of the wet muscle in between, and she threw her head back in a squirm. Her lips pursed in attempt to muffle the whines that tried to escape. Nails digging along the slopes of his back, his lapping, gentle suckling slowly began to soothe. With pleasantness taking over, replacing the hurt with relief, her head felt light again and a pant made her chest rise and fall.

Taehyung broke away from her healed skin with a hot sigh that grazed her sensitivity, prompting her to press her thighs together.

In the gradual descent into bliss, the phantom sensations of his soft, plump lips kissing her skin lingered, and it felt so compatible, belonged. But she’ll never admit it aloud.

tag list: @ehu-agavebaby @http-jinnie @ggsmashgg @la-vie-en-tae @tangledsparkles @lilacdreams-00

a/n: please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

[winstonhcomedy]

“Dope A-F” - 7/11-7/29- “Birthday Heckler, Winstmas Games, DC, and Amazing Shows”

Only a few days behind. That’s ok because I know I can catch up. Definitely doing way better than I was. It has been a chill week. I am still trying to adjust to losing my dad, and just trying to still enjoy comedy. So let’s hop right into it!

7/11

There were a couple of open mics this night. There was The Camel hosted by Jameson Babbowski right after work, and then after that will be Garden Grove which was going to be guest hosted by Brandon Beswick.

I headed over to The Camel right after work. I got there about 4:10 and ordered my dinner. I got to catch up and talk to the bartender/owner for about an hour. We talked about music, and the band my brother was in He is a super cool dude. A few more comics show up while I am waiting.

Liz and Mu were headlining so they both got there relatively early. There were a few comics from the standup class I subbed in. I got to ask them if what I was saying was helpful at all, and they all said it was. So that helped me feel pretty good about it.  Anne Meng showed up as did. a few others comics. So we had a good hang going on. 

Jameson finally gets there and sets the lineup. The hang continues for a bit and then the show starts. The first few comics do pretty well. There is an ok sized crowd. Better than the last few I had been to. I grabbed my light from the car because the first few comics you couldn’t see. We get it set up and then Mu goes up and has a really hot set. After him Liz goes up and she does pretty well too. She has a super drunk heckler during her set. She did a good job of not losing her shit on him, but he was just yelling the worst stuff. It kind of derailed her set. 

After her were a few more comics. Then it was my turn. I had a good set. I did mostly new. I also did some dad material too. it is all coming together. I really enjoyed this set. People seemed to dig it, and I was able to really have a nice strong set. I’d give it a B. 

I then hung out and watched the rest of the show. Most everyone did ok which was cool to watch. Legit 3/4 of the audience left right before the final guy which kind of sucked for him. He is new and he powered through it. After the show I grabbed my light and headed to Garden Grove.

It had started to rain so I put on my raincoat once I got to Garden Grove. I check in with Beswick and he lets know I am third. Mike Engle is there as are a bunch of my friends. Ry Mather, Jack Gerow, Jesse Pearlstein, Dylan, and Anthony Thompson all showed up. It was a super dope hang. The crowd was light, but the people there were really excited for comedy. There were a few people int he corner who were pretty loud, but for the most part everyone was at least attentive. 

Brandon hosted and really started to try and work the audience over to get them ready. he ended on a pretty good pop, and I think he did a super good job hosting. After him the first few comics went up and did ok. I went up and just tried my material. I had a good but not great set. For the room I did well. I didn’t go into crowd work for the most part and I just did my new jokes for like 7 minutes. This felt good. I love just doing jokes at the open mics, and then being able to flex my crowd work muscle on other shows. I’d give this set a B-. It was super productive. If I had done crowd work I would have done better, but I wouldn’t have gotten as much out of it.

After my set I kind of just hung around for a long time. I talked shop with everybody. There were a few more comics from the class who asked some questions and hung out. It was cool to see them out at mics watching, and a few did some sets. 

We had a nice long chat outside about comedy specials. This is always the best. Just like 30+ minutes talking about who we like and why we like them. Comedy is the absolute best shit in the whole world. After talking forever I said goodbye and headed home to pass out. I was super tired. 

7/12

I didn’t do a set on this day. This was the day I was using to celebrate my birthday with my family. I just went over to my brother’s, hung with my nice, had a nice dinner, watched a movie, and hung out all night. It was everything I wanted. Just like 10 straight hours being with the one’s I love. 

I knew I had a big show tomorrow, and would only get the first part of the day with them so I wanted the night before to really be special. I missed my dad so much during dinner. He would have loved everything about it. I’m glad I was with the one’s I love the most.

7/13

For my birthday I was headlining a show at Intermission Beer Company. Liz Carr was running a Virginia is for Lovers comedy show. So all the performers had to be based or born in VA. 

Before all of this I spent time with my family. Enjoyed my niece’s company, and then went to Hardwood to watch Alex Jonestown Massacre play a cover set of Anti Flag. It was a super fun benefit show. I got to chill with Kenn for a bit, and see a few of my other friends before I headed over to Intermission.

I got to Intermission and Liz was there. I checked in and we caught up. Trayvon Fulton was also down from Philly. I haven’t seen him in a while so that was nice. Newer comic Heather Joyce was also on the show. Then Brock Hall, Alida Harper, and Jeff Simmermon also showed up.  

Jeff was down from NYC and I was able to link him up with Liz to do a spot. The lineup was set, and people had started to show up. It looked a little light at first but then people started rolling in. I had a couple friend from high school come out, and I had about 8 people from work come as well. I love when they come. It makes me want to try even harder. 

I got to chat and catch up with them. We talked and hung out before the show started. But the time the show began the room was almost completely full except for the one table at the very front.

Liz went up and did ok. She was followed by Heather and she got some pretty good pops during her set. She is super new and I’ve honestly only seen her perform at intermission. After her was Brock. He had some of his one liners work pretty well, but because he didn’t take a set list up with him he got off stage a little early. Which is ok. Then Alida went up and this was when I started to get in the zone for my set. I was supposed to do 20 to 25 and I wanted to do really well since my friends were there along with a ton of other people.

I went outside and stretched, and ran over myself et in my head a bit. I jumped up and down and tried to just get as loose as possible. Halfway through Alida’s set Jack Gerow showed to support and that meant a lot to me.

Alida got off stage and Jeff went up. By this time the front table had filled up completely. So the room was packed and Jeff went into his act. He did really well. He is a good comic and an even better dude. He handled the crowd a bit. He didn’t go in on them too much, but they were heckling a bit, and throwing him off of his rhythm.  He had a really fun set, and was killing it. 

After he got off stage. Liz gave me a wonderful intro and mentioned it was my birthday. I get on stage and immediately go into my act. The table at the very front had been filled by a dude and four girls. He was absolutely wasted and had been interrupting a lot throughout the night. He wasn’t being a dick on purpose, but it was affecting the show.

I had just walked in on him in the bathroom so I apologized for that while also shitting on him for not locking the door. Then I got to know him. I asked his name and he said it was Cody but he stood up when he told me. He didn’t have a job, but had a lot of money so I asked him what his dad did for a living. I also made fun of how he was acting the whole night. I

 then asked the girls with him how they knew him. They wouldn’t answer. They were so embarrassed by how he was acting. He was absolutely super upset they didn’t have his back. I asked one of them if they were his gf and she said hell no. He looked at her shocked. This was the first he had found out about this. I started to feel bad so I apologized, and joked around. The crowd was loving it. I was killing.

He started vaping and I had to get him to stop. I joked around with them some more and then went into my act. Everything was working. It felt so good to be doing so well. I was having a hot one. I’d do a bit and then address the crowd a bit and then go right into the next joke. I did about 35 minutes and it was all working. I closed really strong, and honestly got a good fun video out of it. I hope the audio turned out well because I can’t wait to rewatch all the crowd work stuff. I’d give this set an A.

After my set they sang happy birthday to me, and I got to hang with my friends. I said thank you and all of my goodbyes. Then Cody drunkenly drove off with the other girls in his car. So we told the owners and we all kinda hung out before heading out. I then got dinner with Jack Gerow and we talked comedy for a long time. It was a blast and a great hang. Then I headed out with my coworkers and saw some other comics. It was an awesome birthday. I finally headed home to get a good nights sleep because I had a lot of driving to do the  next day.

My first birthday without my dad had all of the ingredients to be a horrible time. I miss him so much. I didn’t know how it was going to go, but all I knew was he would want me to have a great time. I am so thankful I have my friends, coworkers, comics, family, and loved ones to be there for me and make surety birthday was as amazing as it could possible be. 

7/14

The next day I got in my car and drove to Virginia Beach to the all day VB Strong comedy show and benefit at the Virginia Beach Funny Bone. It was 12 hours of comedy to benefit the shooting that happened in VB recently. 

There was a huge number of comics and they ended up raising over 20 grand. It was a killer event and I was really glad to be a part of it. I ended up stuffing my face with wings and catching up with some friends waiting for my set to start. I was on the 6 o clock show, but I got to the see crowds for the 3 pm block and it was pretty full. It was so cool to see the community come together for a good cause. 

When the 6 o clock show started Mike Easmeil (super dope VB comic) was hosting. He along with Rick Bruner (GM VB Funny Bone) are a couple of the dudes who were in charge of putting this whole thing together. I went up after Mike. It was about a half full room, and we were told to work somewhat clean. So I did my best. 

I had a solid set. My material was working. I was cleaner than most. People connected with me and I was happy with the response I got. It also felt good to be doing a set for a good cause. I’d give this set a B.

After I got off stage Terry O’Quinn from Lost (does Improv) came over and said hi and he dug my set. I immediately texted my friend Kenn who loves Lost. This was a cool moment. I said goodbye and thanked Rick and everyone else. I then signed a poster that all the comics were signing and hit the road.

I headed to Cozzy’s because I was headlining Sunday Funnies. Mindy Ess was hosting it this week. I get there right as she is finishing up. There is a nice little crowd of about 20 non comics there. Which I am excited about.   

A bunch of my friends are on the show. Francesca, Anne Meng, Richard Woody, and Paige are there. Also local comics David Vega and Wyatt Bowman were also doing spots. Wyatt and David went up first and they did ok. The crowd wasn’t really popping. Then Francesca, Richard, and Anne also went up. They had varying degrees of success. They just didn’t seem to really want jokes that much. Also the stuff they did and did not laugh at was weird as hell. 

Paige went up and had he had a pretty good set too. He was able to get them on his side and kept working them. It had its down moments, but he was the first to really get any good pops from the audience.

After Paige it was my turn and I had a blast. I did about 20 minutes of crowd work. I started talking to this dude who had the name Mario Alfredo Lucero. I got some big pops talking about what a great name that was, and that he should have a pizza shop. I then talked to his wife, and also bounced around the room. I got some good pops throughout. Legit was doing the best I could have done.

At the end of my set I did 5 to 7 of new material. I knew it wouldn’t work as well as the crowd work because it was new, but I am trying to not just do crowd work at these tough shows. I figure if I do 75% crowd work and kill it is ok to bomb with 25% new stuff. I want to do well, but also want to work out material to get even better. So this was the strategy I used. It worked well. I’d give the whole set an A-. 

I got off stage and said my goodbyes. Paige road down with Richard so he rode back with me. On the way back we go to talk, and then also we got stuck in traffic forever. After dropping him off I headed home and passed out!

7/15

I went to work today. Afterwards I kind of relaxed around town and watched some TV. I didn’t do anything too crazy. Tonight was The Southern but Chris Alan was out of town so JR was going to be guest hosting.

I get there right around 8 and it s a super light crowd. There is also only around 11 comics. So everybody is going to get about 7 minutes which should be fun.I get to hang out with a bunch of my friends. JR, Jack Gerow, Paige (showed up halfway through), John Marg, Sam Padgett, Samantha Wood, Luzader, Jericho Zornes, Johnny Rad, and some others I am sure I am forgetting. I was up like 7th. It was. fun hang and I was ready to get the show rolling. I walk in the back and change out of my shorts and put on a new outfit (because I can’t perform in shorts).

The show starts and I am recognized by this girl who tried comedy a few years ago. She had me talk to her standup club in college. I was so new I never should have done it. I was only like two years in and was trying to be edgier. My thoughts on comedy have changed dramatically. So it was going to be cool for her to see my material since hopefully I have evolved as a performer.

JR actually did some crowd work. He was a little aggressive. It was like he was channeling Chris. He did a pretty good job of getting the show rolling. Then Jericho went up. He had a pretty good set. People were doing ok. No one was really killing, but we were having a really good time. Eventually Johnny Rad went up and he did pretty well. He started shitting on Jericho. They were busting each other’s balls and that was fun.

After him was a new comic. He brought a table of people and he wasn’t terrible. He seemed nice and it seemed like he had worked really hard on his material. After his set it was my turn. I got up and made fun of Jericho and Johnny Rad bullying each other. I talked to the new dude and gave him a comic to check out. Then I just went into a bunch of new material. I have to sit down and write some of this out, but for the most part it was a really fun set. The new stuff was working, and if it didn’t work I at least know why. I’d give this set a C+. I got some good pops, but overall if I had stuck to crowd work it definitely would have gone better.

After me a few more comics went up. Sam Padgett had a good set too. She was all over the place. It was fun to watch. She forgot one part of a joke and said the wrong thing, but she played it off super well. She got some big laughs and it was fun to watch.

I then went outside to hang a bit. Paige eventually got there and we talked for a while. It was super fun, but I was exhausted and headed home. I ate some cereal at the house and then passed out!

7/16

During the night my grandpa was rushed to the hospital. They thought he was having a heart attack. Luckily he was ok, but I was planning on doing a podcast after work so I cancelled it before I knew he was fine. I got to work two hours late because I didn’t sleep well.

After work I went to therapy and got to have a pretty helpful session. Really struggling with missing my dad. Like it is not getting any easier. Honestly my brain tries to forget it even happened, but that is impossible. I also had to tell my therapist I couldn’t afford to come once a week. Which sucks, but I can still go every two weeks so I think I will be ok. If I realize I need once a week I will have to find a way to get a few hundred more dollars out of my budget. 

After this I txted my friend Kenn and we grabbed a quick dinner at En Su Boca. It was a lot of fun. I love this dude to death and wish I got to see him more. I really cherish our friendship. We can talk about everything and he has always been there for me. I have become a lot more mindful in the time I have known Kenn and I hope that I have also been a positive influence on him as well. 

After dinner I headed to meet up with Jason Kusterer. I just watched him play video games for a few hours. I just felt bad, and wanted to be around friends. It was a super fun hang and hopefully we can do more, 

I drove us both to Mojos. I got to catch up and joke with Dylan and Ryan Mather. Carlton K showed up. There was a pretty good amount of comics so we were all going to get 5. Mike Engle was there as well. Claire Hakala was the bartender this week, but I don't know if she is going to get to do it from now on. 

The show started and I went up second. Ry Mather was hosting and he may take over the show. He did a good job hosting and then Kusterer went first. He did half jokes and half a sweatlist. His set went pretty well all things considered. He made me laugh.

Then I went up and bombed my dick off. The dad stuff wasn’t working. Neither did my brand new joke that I like a lot. It still needs work. No one gave a shit what I was talking about. I wasn’t likable on stage, but I didn’t resort to crowd work and I just worked the bits. I’d give this set an F. It legit felt terrible. 

I then hopped off stage and drove Kusterer and I to Fallout. I get there and there is an ok sized crowd. Maybe 10 people who weren’t comics. I am up in a few. Brock Hall, Danny Dunlea, Jack Johnston, Jack Gerow, and some others were there. Jarvis was hosting.

I didn’t watch a lot of the sets. I kind of just chilled. No one was really cracking them while I was there. There was a new person who went up and they had brought a table. I go up a few people after them.

I go up and honestly don’t enjoy my set. I do better than Mojos though. I do dad stuff, and the new joke works better. I know there is a way to get that joke to hit really hard. I need to just sit down and write. I am horrible at that. The rest of the set goes ok. I closed kind of weak, but honestly it was a learning experience. A very productive set. I’d give it a C-.

I go in the back and ask Kusterer if he can find another ride home.  Jack said he would give him a ride and I head home. It is a long sad drive. I am in my thoughts the entire time. I get home and pass out. I don’t really feel good about comedy, but I feel good about the people in my life from comedy. It is an odd feeling. 

7/17

I get off work and drive down to Norfolk to meet up with Nick Deez and Ryan Dix for their podcast. I am in traffic for what feels like ages, but I finally get there. I love doing podcasts. It is a ton of fun. I usually get to let loose, and there is no pressure since I am not the one hosting it.

I get to Nick’s and we start the DeezDix podcast. I ended up just ball busting. The first 20 minutes Ryan Dix was getting pretty heated. Apparently he had no idea I was busting balls and he was getting pretty upset. In hindsight that is hilarious, but he was definitely taking offense. After that part though everybody got into a rhythm and it was a pretty fun hour.  

We made fun of Nick’s pop collection. We talked about Ryan making Gundams. Also we went over my fear of being serial killed ( a dumb irrational fear, but a fear nonetheless). It was a solid and fun podcast.

After this I headed to Hampton to perform on Wyatt Bowman’s show at Stuft.. It took me a while to find it because my GPS was acting up. Once I got there I saw it was a pretty dope spot. It had an actual stage, and it was legit packed. It was nuts the show actually started on time.

Wyatt Bowman went first and had an ok hosting set. People were laughing, and also paying attention,. After him was Torrey Huggins. He got some good pops up front. Some nice laughs. I could tell the crowd wanted to crack, and they were so close. I like Torrey a lot. Good dude, and works his ass off. I respect the hell out of that.

Then it was Nick Deez. Nick had an ok set. He had them early, and lost them a bit. The crowd was weird. They wanted to laugh, but when they weren’t into it they started to talk, and go back to their meals. Nick also works hard, and is another good friend of mine. 

Then Justin King goes up. He couldn’t get them to connect with him. Justin is a dude I like a lot. He is also a comic that has an edgier take when he is on stage. They just weren’t the type of crowd that was digging that. He didn’t bomb, but you could tell the people were a little tight. 

I go in the smoking room to talk to Nick and Torrey. They are kind of going over their sets, and just decompressing from the room. Another comic comes in the room and tells Nick and Torrey an audience member grabbed them when they were going into the bathroom. The audience member asked him if they were a comic and they responded yes. They then said the audience member said well I hope you are way better than the first few comics. 

So I am in my own head trying to get ready for this set. I don’t really know why this comic said that. I don’t think it was malicious, but it was just weird. It didn’t seem like a joke/ball busting, and I just felt bad for the guys. These two dudes are obviously aware they didn’t have their best sets. This isn’t a constructive comment and a thing that could have been saved for later when they could have appreciated it. Like I said I was already in my own head, and I can only go off of my own personal experiences, but right after I am off stage is not when I would want to hear that. 

I am getting ready to go up. I don’t really want to honestly. I saw how the first few sets went and I didn’t really feel like doing crowd work. I know that is what would work, but I didn’t want to fight this crowd that hard. I talk to that comic before going up and they’re like you’ve got to be loud and dirty because that is what this crowd wants. 

I knew what I needed to do to succeed, but I didn’t want to do it. So I made the decision to just do my jokes, and really sell them. I put faith in myself as a comedian that my jokes would work. There was a crowd. They had shown they wanted to laugh. So why wouldn’t my jokes work?

I went up and had a really hot set. I felt really good about it. I did ten minutes of just material and I was destroying. Everybody was into it and there was no table talk. I had everyone’s attention. I did all teaching material, and it was really fun to do. I wish I had recorded, but alas I did not. I felt like I had gotten the show back on track, and done my job. Which felt good since I was just doing a guest spot I asked for since I was already in the area. I love being able to follow through when I ask for something. I’d give my set an A-

I leave and head to Cozzy’s to get a quick set in before going home. This is the open mic that Nick usually runs, but since he had a show he had Addison Hall running the mic. 

We get there and there is like 5 audience members and the rest comics. It is a low energy kind of night. A few people go up before me and do ok. The people in the audience seem to enjoy the show so I am ready to have a good time.

Nick goes up and does ok. He has a new premise he is working on that made me laugh. I’m excited to see where that joke goes. After him it is my turn. I go up and just do new stuff. It is working ok. I know some of it needs work (all of it does), but it feels good to try new and get some laughs. I lost the crowd in the middle when I worked out dad material. The audience members weren't on board. It did not matter how good the jokes were (could have been perfect) they weren’t into it. So I closed with a few different things. It turned out ok. I’d give my set a C-. I learned a lot, but didn’t do as well as I wish.

I grab my stuff and head home. Unfortunately I left four of my notebooks so I have to wait until this coming Sunday before I can get a chance to get them back. I have a friend who is going to snag them and I am eternally grateful. I drive home, and then pass out. 

7/18

I was stoked for today’s show. Kenny Wingle asked me to be on Buckin Comedy at the Funny Bone. It is going to be a fun time. The lineup is going to be me Klingman, Bounce Adams (doing a guest spot), James Paulk, Kenny Wingle, and myself. Then we are going to do sex with me is like at the end.

The room is about half full, and we have been having a pretty good hang. It was nice to catch up with James. I don’t know him very well, and have only worked with him a couple of times, but it was nice to see him and talk. He has some more free time now so he is getting back into the comedy game a bit. 

Wingle was running a little late, but the hang before the show ruled. Wingle finally shows up and we start the show. Klingman goes up and does ok. It seemed like he was nervosa to swear, but once he did he really got them locked in toward the end of his set. Bounce went up and had a very strong 5 minute set. Very rarely have I seen him not do well. His 5 minutes is kind of undeniable. It is good to see, and it gets the crowd going.

It is my turn and I go up and I feel like I am doing ok. Some jokes are hitting, and some aren’t. Everyone is having some fun, but it isn’t what I want. I have this one lady int he front row who keeps screaming every time I say anything. I finally address it and get a huge laugh. I”m like, “I am so happy you love what I’m doing, but every time you scream everyone in this crowd hates me.” So she stops, but I know I am going to have to revisit her situation. 

I go back into my set and it is doing ok. It is like a wave. I”ll get a huge laugh and then a chuckle. Which isn’t bad, but I just want to be killing. I go back into the crowd and talk a bit more and I finally go back to the drunk lady. Her name is Theresa and she’s a prison nurse. I bust her balls because of how drunk she is and I ask her about the craziest thing that has ever happened at work. She said she can’t tell me because it is a “penis story”.

So I go into a long thing about how she has to tell me. I thank god for sending me a heckling angel. After she tells the story, and I bust her on it some more I get off stage. The crowd work killed, but the material did ok as well. I’d give my set a B-. After this I went and got a weekend of work and talked to Jason (RVA Funny Bone gm) about what steps he thinks I need to take to kind of get to the next level. 

James and Kenny go next, but during this time I am in and out because I am eating. I called my mom to talk a bit. I miss my dad a lot. He would have super enjoyed this show. The show is going well, but I am ready for sex with me is like to happen.

At the end of Kenny’s set he brings everybody back up and we go into the game. They love this way more than they liked the standup portion. It is crazy and filthy and dirty. I got a huge laugh on almost all of mine. I felt like I was on fire. Everybody had good ones, and even when they don’t work it gets a laugh because we are busting balls. I’d give this portion of the show an A. It was a crazy fun time. 

After the show I say goodbye, and get some pictures with audience members. I grab what is left of my dinner and head out. I watch some tv and pass out. This was a successful day. 

7/19

The next day after work I went and met my mom. I had been booked to do a private birthday part for the mom of one of my best friends from high schools. It was a 50th birthday party and mom was invited. It was good for mom to see her friend and meet new people. I had a blast catching up with my buddy Steve. He asked me to be his his wedding and of course I accepted. 

We had a good time eating and just talking. I was supposed to perform for about 10 to 15 minutes outside beside their pool. Everyone had been drinking a bit, but it was supposed to be a clean show. 

I went out and it was super warm. I get brought up before everyone is outside. So I stall a bit and make small talk. I do some jokes and get some laughs. It is just weird since it is outside, and everyone is pretty far from me. I do my act and it goes ok. Not great, and not terribly. People liked it, but they weren’t vibing with me. I didn’t get the same energy I was putting out. I’d give this show a C. It was fun, but it wasn’t amazing. 

Honestly the bet part was seeing my old friend, and meeting his fiancee. It was a truly awesome time. I grabbed mom and we said our goodbyes before heading back home. 

7/20

The next night I was booked by Var to perform on his Comic Shop show. It was my first time doing comedy in a barbershop so I was pretty excited. I had heard the last few were pretty fun, an dI think I am the first white comic who had been booked on it. 

I get there and get to talk to Var. It was nice to finally get to have a conversation with him. Then Mike Jay, T Harris Jr, and Chris St. John showed up. We were hanging and shooting the shit. It was a lot of fun. Then Jayron showed up as well. 

The show started and this dude Juice went up. I’d never heard him before but he didn’t really click with the audience. He got some laughs, but he was super unpolished, and you had to work for their attention. 

After him it was time for T Harris Jr. He was outside having a smoke break or something. So there is this weird lull in the show. I stand up and motion I am ready to go up. So he brings me up. I go into my act and start busting balls. There is legit like 5 people on their phones and this one chick not smiling at all. I got some ok pops. I am proud of the set I did and I had some good crowd work moments. I didn’t really crack them, but I did do way better than I expected due to how the crowd was acting. 

I definitely learned a lot, and it was cool to be the dude that was ready to go at any moment. I’d give this set a C as well. I could have done better, but I didn’t. I adjusted as well as I could, but honestly half of the audience didn’t seem to give a flying shit about the show. The people who were into it dug it and that’s all I can ask. I talked and hung for a bit before heading out to hang with some friends. I then headed home. I was ready for a day off. 

7/22

The next night I drove all the way to Charlottesville for The Southern. I set everything up, and got to catch up with the GM Danny, and Jeyon. We talked about future shows, and I was ready to try some new jokes.

Then the power went out. That is right the power went out. So we waited until 7:30 to make the call, but we ended up cancelling the show. The few comics that came out all decided to go to Applebees and grab a bite to eat. It was me JR, Kenn, Chris, Johnny Rad, and Jaye. 

We had a good meal, and talked comedy and all types of other shit. It wasn’t the same as doing a mic, but it was better than doing nothing. Afterwards I headed home and passed out.

7/24

I had off the previous night as well since there were no shows in town. So I was really excited for today. I was going to hit up two open mics, and also check out my friend’s at the funnybone. 

On my way to work I hit a pothole and messed up my wheel. I called roadside assistance and the dude who came was a dude who was a fan of mine. I had met him a few times. He called and was like are you from Richmond. I told him no, and he was like oh that is weird because there is a comedian who has the same name as you. I was like yea that is me.

He was super helpful. His name was Richard and as soon as he said his name I remembered him. He got my spare on and I went to my grandads shop. I needed a new wheel they said so I was stuck with no vehicle.

So I drove it on the spare to my uncle’s body shop. I dropped it off and had my aunt/uncle on my dad’s side pick me up. We went to lunch and had a really good time. Talking about dad and everything else. Then they drove me to my mom’s car at the dealership where dad used to work. I grabbed the vehicle and headed home. By this time it was too late to really do anything so I hunkered in. Another night without comedy is a huge bummer, but I know I have a lot of shows the rest of the week. I did some writing and passed out. 

7/25

I was stoked to finally be able to do some comedy this week. I had The Winstmas Games and a super good lineup. It was going to be team Charlottesville vs team Richmond. I had Chris Alan, Paige Campbell, and Heather Kilburn going up against Patrick Buhse, James Muñoz, and Brandon Beswick.

I got there crazy early to set up everything. I am hoping for a good turnout, but the summer is tough. You never know what is going to happen. Some of the comics start to show up and we get the hang going. I have about 8 or 9 people on the guest list so at least there will be a few guaranteed there. 

I am also excited because Kyra Elizabeth of Kyra Elizabeth Photography came out and was going to take some pictures of the show. She does killer work, and it was awesome that she was willing to come out! I can’t wait to see the pics!

We start the show a little late and eventually we have around 30ish people there. This isn’t terrible, but I am definitely disheartened. We start the show and I start to bring everyone out. The energy is pretty weird for the first 20 or so minutes. Like good jokes aren’t getting any laughs. So everyone is trying really hard.

Eventually the show picks up and becomes really fun. The crowd enjoyed it and we did a good 70 minute episode of the show. My only problem was I felt like I was getting talked over the entire night. Which is incredibly frustrating when hosting. Like the thing I am best at is sitting back, and waiting to have a response to some of these jokes and I wasn’t getting n opportunity to do that. 

I knew if I kept trying to do it then it would only hurt the show. So I was more silent than usual on the show. We still had a great show I just didn’t have as much fun as I usually do. I kept the games moving, but as far as making my own jokes I didn’t get a chance to do it. 

Beswick and Muñoz did really well. They kept trying to one up each other. Buhse had some killer callbacks. Heather was pretty silent. She didn’t have much to say, but when she did she had some pretty funny lines. Paige and Chris both also did pretty well. 

We ended with Sex With Me Is Like and that seemed to go well. I might do this going forward because it guarantees the show ends on a laugh. I’d give the whole show a B, and my own personal performance an F. I really didn’t enjoy it, and I felt like I sucked.

I hung out with some friends a bit after and then headed home. I had a long weekend ahead of me.

7/26

The next day after work I hopped in my car and headed up too DC. I was going to be working the Improv the next few nights. I get off work an hour early! I’m hoping I miss traffic, but this is not the case. It took me 3 hours to make an hour 45 minute. It was miserable. 

I finally get there and park and walk to the club. I am stoked. I am hosting two shows in the lounge. It is the standup showcase. The lineup is myself, Alex Scott, Ross Benoit, Paris Sashay, and Tony Woods. It is legit one of the best lineups I’ve ver been a part of. All of these folks are killers. 

I’m chilling in the back and the comics start to show up. The hang is pretty fun, and Alex Scott and I start shooting the shit. Then Ross gets there. We talk about our upcoming show on Thursday, and just generally catch up. 

The show is pretty packed. It is almost sold out. I am hoping it is a pretty fun crowd, but I haven’t gotten to so standup since Saturday and I feel so damn rusty. The show starts and I go up. 

I do an ok set. Honestly it was just weird. I didn’t do poorly and I opened them up. I just know I could have done better. I stumbled on my words a little bit and it took me longer to connect to them. I honesty just need to be more confident, but I am so scared performing in DC. I’d give this first set a B-.

After me Alex goes up. He has a pretty good set, but they are still a little tight. Same thing for Ross. They’re all doing better than me, and it isn’t a bad crowd, but it just doesn’t feel like they’re loving the show. Then Paris goes up and she had a killer set, which was followed up by Tony Woods have a good one as well. 

All in all it was a fun show, but I really hoped the next crowd was going to be better. I just wanted to step up and provide an even better show than the first one. 

I chill for about an hour waiting for the second show. People start to file in and the pre show energy is awesome. They seem ready to go. It is also getting pretty full. I am way more confident than I was the first show. The first show reminded me that I know how to do this.

The second show starts and I go up and have a dope set. All of my stuff is working. They clicked with me from the beginning. I was smiling more, and we were all on the same page. There were moments I didn’t feel perfect, but for the most part it felt like I knew what I was doing again and deserved to be there. Hosting in the lounge can be tough. It is a different vibe than the main room. Sometimes they are crazy loose, and other times they are tight af. I am so glad this was the former. I’d give this set an A-.

The rest of the show goes great. Everybody is killing. Alex Scott kills, Ross murders, Paris slays, and Tony Wood absolutely destroys. He brings the house down. From top to bottom it is one of the best shows I have ever been on.

After this I head over to Big Hunt. I hang with Dom Rivera, Lafayette, and a few others. We are shooting the shit and hanging out. Andrew Cook comes out and is looking for someone to go first. I volunteer. I love going early here. No just because the audience is still there, but because I love the idea of getting home relatively early.

The show starts and there’s a pretty good crowd. Sami Sfeir is hosting and he has a solid opening set. He brings me up and I have a good one. I try a few new jokes and one goes over really well. I also get my R. Kelly joke to work the best it has in a while. I can’t wait for this to be the only thing I do. I’d give this set a B+.

After this I walk to my car. I hop in and drive to Fairfax. I get some snacks from the 7-11 and head to my buddies house. I get there and TJ gives me one of his Pony Gang t-shirts. It looks super dope and I am psyched. We watch a few episodes of Last Chance U and then I pass out.

7/27

The next day I pretty much just slept. I am trying to get caught up on how little I have slept the last month. TJ made burgers and we talked a bit before I went and took another nap.

I head into DC and go straight to the improv. There are less comics on the show tonight. It is just Ty Davis, Alex Scott, Ross, and myself. Matt Brown had to drop off because he was featuring at Magooby’s. 

The show is absolutely packed. It looks like it is going to be a light crowd, but like five minutes before show time people start to pile in. 

I go up and this might be the best show of the weekend. Everything works and feels good. I have a hot one and even try a new joke. That even works and I am just feeling it. I bring Ty Davis up and she kills. Then Ross, and Alex both destroyed. We had a super killer first show. 

After this show ends a little early I am just hanging out talking to the staff. They say the second show is sold out so I am anticipating a fun one. I was wrong.

I hated my set. I felt like I was bombing my dick off. I felt like no one was enjoying it. I’d get a laugh and then nothing. Then I’d get another laugh and then nothing. It was just awful. I was so upset about this set. I’d give it a D. I am better than this and I can do better than this.

Everyone else after me did well. They had to work a little harder than they did in the first show, but I felt like I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I felt like a hack. I hate comedy when stuff like this happens. You can do well and then the very next set it looks and feels like I have never done comedy before. 

After this show I headed to Big Hunt. It is an incredibly light crowd there for the open mic. But Sean Patton who was headlining left and was like, “ladies and gentleman that is how you don’t headline a room.” He said he felt horrible the entire weekend about the shows. This made m feel a little better. If this absolutely hilarious dude who is headlining feels this way then it is ok for me to. 

I get to go up 8th. Dylan showed up and we get to chill a bit. It is always fun to talk comedy and see him. We chat about our shows, and then start to watch. I get to see some of my friends go up like Lafayette, Denise Taylor, Ross, Maddy, and a few others. They’re all doing pretty well. The crowd is hard to crack because they are all wasted and there is only like 15 of them. I tell myself I am going to try some new stuff when I go up.

I go up and I actually do pretty well. I get some pretty big laughs, and I tried a handful of new things. All but one of the new things worked. My energy felt good, and I just felt comfortable. I definitely felt like this was a very productive set. I really want to keep working at it and moving my way up the chain here. I’d give this set a C.

As soon s I am off stage I grab my stuff and say goodbye. I dipped out and started walking to my car. I have off tomorrow and I was so excited to just pass out at home and wake up and relax.

I get to my car and have absolutely no traffic the entire way back home. I get there around 3 and watch a little tv before passing out. I am ready for a day off. 

7/29

Today starts pretty good. Get to go bowling for a field trip at work which was killer. Then I get a fb message from Kyra and she sent me some absolutely amazing photos of The Winstmas Games. At least it looks like the show was amazing. Legit hope she does some more because I was extremely impressed.

After work my mom picks me up since my car has been out of commission. She drives me to go grab my car and the bill ends up being half of what we thought. I ended up needing two wheels, but they sent one that had a flaw in it and they let me keep it for free. So I basically got two wheels for the price of one. Which is amazing and honestly I really needed it. 

I grab my car and head up to Charlottesville. I met Keaton Ray for dinner. We talked comedy and about when his show was coming back at The Bridge. We go over some bits, and destroy some Jack Browns. Samantha Padgett and her significant other Lucy show up. We talk to them as we are leaving and tell them we will see them soon.

We head over to the Southern and I start to grab all of the PA stuff. I also take down all of the chairs, and get the tables moved. I don’t set the PA up yet because last time I did the damn power went out. So I just go and kind of relax as other comics show up.

JR shows up and he sets the PA up. A few people show up an hour beforehand and they aren’t even performing which is pretty cool. Some people brought friends and we have a pretty big lineup. John Marg showed up. As did Jack Gerow, Kenn Edwards (after I left), Jake Snyder, Paige (as I was leaving), Dylan, Sam Wood, Sam Padgett, Jack Johnston, and a lot more.

The hang is super fun. I go outside and Sam P called me over. She was being hassled by a weird dude trying to get a hug and sell her some drugs. It was sketchy af so I just chilled next to her until she was able to move. 

Chris and I shoot the shit and are riffing inside before the show starts. It was nice to just kind of unwind and bust balls. It had been a minute since we had been able to do that. I really missed it.

The show started at around 8:15 and we had an ok sized crowd. Chris goes up and is having a fun hosting set. He actually tried some new jokes, and was busting everybody’s balls. As he went on I started to feel pretty sick. I don’t know what it was. 

I honestly think a lot of it is stress from my dad. I haven’t slept much, and I have been having horrible stomach problems due to anxiety. I also think the greasy burger and fries I ate (as delicious as they were) did not help the situation. 

Over the course of the show more and more people show up. I am up fifth, and before that I am running to grab chairs until we have a pretty awesome packed house for the open mic. Dylan went up first and he had a solid opening set. 

Then a few more comics went up. They all did ok. The crowd had been enjoying it and kind of hot, but they hadn’t really popped yet. There was a gay comic from New York who said he used to do comedy in the 80s. He defiantly had an 80s vibe, but he also had a few jokes I enjoyed. I hope he keeps coming out.

Then it was Sam Wood’s turn. She goes up and I start to get mentally ready to try and have a hot set. I want to do better than I did the last day in DC. So I get new jokes ready, and I just want to go.

She brings me up, and people start to get up to talk and get drinks. So I am just patient and bide my time. I ask a few questions and use the first minute or so to just get people on my wave length and have them ready for the show. 

Once people are settled in I proceeded to have a really good set. My jokes were working, and I was able to get some stuff tighter than it used to be. I also did some crowd work I really enjoyed. I got this one dude involved and pretended he was one of my favorite porn stars. I kept calling him Mike Rod and he was there with his mom. It was a lot of fun. 

I’d give this set an A-. There were like one or two things that didn’t get the pop I wanted, but overall a great set. I got some big pops and woke up the crowd. I felt like I did my job, and at the same time got to work on some new material. 

After my set I started to feel incredibly sick. I had to leave. I hung around for a few more comics and talked a little bit, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I packed my stuff up and said goodbye and headed out. I caught Paige on the way out and told him I felt shitty. After this I hopped in the car and headed home. I chilled for a bit with my mom and then just passed out. I needed it.

I AM CAUGHT UP AGAIN! You can’t keep me down laydees! I am defeating this damn blog one way or another. I refuse to not do it. I need to write about some other stuff that isn’t just my shows. I will figure it out baybees! Until then I love you so much and thank you for reading! See ya soon! xoxo