#bridge nine records

[myb9collection]

NRNWR3 - Risk / Fool’s Game - ‘Split’ - B9 Exclusive, Silver /250

#bridge9 #bridge nine #vinyl #bridge nine records #bridgenine

[fastlane-to-nowhere]

Throwing it back to one of my 2012 high school core kid faves, Backtrack pushed out pissed off, old school New York metallic hardcore at a time things felt oversaturated with pretty boy Warped Tour metalcore bands with swoopy bangs and obnoxious Casio keyboard breakdowns

#Backtrack #new york hardcore #hardcore punk #metalcore #Bridge Nine Records #Spotify

[drugstorecowboi]

Palehorse: “Mayday” Amongst The Flock (2005)

#palehorse #mayday #amongst the flock #connecticut hardcore #cthc #metallic hardcore #hardcore punk #bridge nine records #2005 #Spotify

[revkilltaker]

Defeater – Live on BBC Radio 1 - 7″ - Bridge Nine Records - B9R-177

Stats

Pressing #:  1st Press

Color:  Cream

Qty Pressed: 1000

Additional Info: Other Pressings Available

Track List

But Breathing

Warm Blood Rush

Brothers

8/10

#Defeater #Bridge Nine Records #Boston #Alcoa #Modern Life is War #Foundation #Soul Control #Hope Conspiracy

[bestfuckinmusic]

Outbreak - You Make Us Sick - 2004

Awesome, modern hardcore album on Bridge Nine Records. 15 songs in 15 minutes, if you get the picture?

#outbreak #bridge nine records #hardcore punk

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Queen - The Show Must Go On 1991

Innuendo is the fourteenth studio album by the British rockband Queen, released on 4 February 1991. It was the band's last album to be released in lead singer Freddie Mercury's lifetime. It reached the number 1 spot on the UK album charts for two weeks, and also peaked at number 1 in Italy, the Netherlands, Germany, and Switzerland, staying at the top for three weeks, four weeks, six weeks, and eight weeks, respectively. It was the first Queen album to go Gold in the US upon its release since The Works in 1984.

The album was recorded between March 1989 and November 1990. In the spring of 1987, Mercury had been diagnosed with AIDS, although he kept his illness a secret from the public and denied numerous media reports that he was seriously ill. The band and producers were aiming for a November or December release date in order to catch the crucial Christmas market, but Mercury's declining health meant that the release of the album did not take place until February. Nine months after the album was released, Mercury died of AIDS-derived bronchopneumonia.

"The Show Must Go On" was written by Brian May, based on a chord sequence he had been working on. May decided to use the sequence, and both he and Mercury decided the theme of the lyrics and wrote the first verse together. From then on May finished the lyrics, completed the vocal melody and wrote the bridge, inspired by Pachelbel's Canon. The song chronicles the effort of Mercury continuing to perform despite approaching the end of his life. When the band recorded the song in 1990, Mercury's condition had deteriorated to the point that May had concerns as to whether he was physically capable of singing it. May recalls; "I said, 'Fred, I don't know if this is going to be possible to sing.' And he went, 'I'll fucking do it, darling' — vodka down — and went in and killed it, completely lacerated that vocal".

The song was initially not released as a single as part of promotion for the Innuendo album, but was released in October 1991 as the band launched their Greatest Hits II album. The video for the song featured a compilation of clips from all their videos since 1982. Due to Mercury's critical health at the time of its production, a fresh appearance by the band in a video was not possible.

"The Show Must Go On" was released as a single in the UK on 14 October 1991, just six weeks before Mercury died. Following his death on 24 November 1991, the song re-entered the British charts and spent as many weeks in the top 75 (five) as it did upon its original release, initially reaching a peak of 16. In 1992, the song was released as a double A-side with "Bohemian Rhapsody" in the US and reached number 2 in the US.

It was first played live on 20 April 1992, during The Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert, performed by the three remaining members of Queen, with Elton John singing lead vocals and Black Sabbath guitarist Tony Iommi playing rhythm guitar. A different live version featuring Elton John on vocals later appeared on Queen's Greatest Hits III album.

Since its release, the song has appeared on television and film, including Moulin Rouge!.

"The Show Must Go On" received a total of 85,2% yes votes! Previous Queen polls: #29 "Mustapha"

#finished #high votes #high yes #high reblog #90s #queen

[violetsoju]

Sakusa doesn’t understand why the specific blond teammate of his calls him “Omi-Omi”. It’s ridiculous, to say the least. 

Worse, he doesn’t understand why you’re siding with the faux blond.

“Well, I kind of understand why Atsumu calls you that.” You say to his dismay.

The subtle raise of his eyebrows hidden behind his curly locks is an indication to explain yourself.

“Just look in the mirror and you’ll get what I mean.” You tilt your head to the full length mirror next to the genkan, where too many mirror selfies have been taken. 

Sakusa stomps in tiny towards the mirror reluctantly at your nudges, leaving the warm toasty sofa that is now indented with his weight before. 

“What exactly am I supposed to see?” He huffs, hands automatically in his pocket on reflex as he stands before the mirror.

“Yourself, duh.”

“And?”

“Well.” You pad towards him. With your hands clasped together before you and small coughs from clearing your throat dramatically, it’s as if you're about to give an important speech. 

“Standing at over 6 ft, packed with lean muscles, clad in all black, a hoodie overhead, black face mask, furrowed eyebrows, black hair, and only black eyes visible that screams ‘Leave me alone I’m tired’. If that isn’t what we call ominous, I don’t know what that is.”

“Get it? Omi-Omi. Ominous.”

Sakusa snorts at your comment, ruffling his hair while pulling his overhead hoodie down to take a closer look.

Black hoodie, black joggers, black face mask that he hasn’t discarded upon getting home, black natural hair and black eyes. He even has to take a few steps back to take in his whole reflection in the mirror given his height.

He does look a little intimidating to say.

Your next comment earns another snort from him. “You honestly also look like a black cat.”

His next comment earns a snort from you too. “You’re a crazy cat lady then.”

A stare-off begins, the both of you not backing down until an idea suddenly pops into your head as you quickly fish out your phone, nudging a confused Sakusa to face the mirror as you snap the scene before you. Another mirror selfie for the record. 

“This shall be named ‘Kiki and Jiji’.”

It’s back to serious business as you swiftly keep your phone back into your pocket, picking off from where you left from the stare-off, gaze as piercing as before as if nothing had happened just a few seconds ago. Sakusa loses the game as he chuckles at your impromptu action, shaking his head lightly in adoration. 

“Are you saying I bring bad luck then? Given I’m all ominous, daunting and part of the feline family.” He squishes your cheek from side to side gently.

You try to squeeze out a coherent sentence through your pouted lips. “Nah, who says black cats bring bad luck? I don’t stand with that.”

“You are basically standing beside one now.”

“Don’t you dare start a cat fight.”

No paws or hands were harmed in the event.

“As long as they’re cute, it doesn’t matter.” You hum in thought, tapping your chin.

Sakusa’s intrusive thoughts take over as a mumbled “How superficial” escapes from his lips, and is immediately met with a pair of questioning eyes.

“As for your case,” You lean in slowly like a predator cornering its prey. He unknowningly gulps when you pull his face mask down to reveal his full face, bodies just a few inches apart. 

Sakusa feels like nine lives of a cat have passed as you examine his face with your eyebrows knitted together. Your eyes trail from the two moles above his right eyebrow, his defined nose bridge, and down to his lips. He definitely catches your gaze lingering on his lips for a few seconds longer. 

He’s about to lean in to seal the gap when you come to your final verdict. 

“You’re cute. So you pass.” You announce, tapping his cheek lightly in approval as you walk off to the sofa in the living room. 

“And it’s a cute name fitting for a cute black cat. Omi-Omi the Ominous.”

Sakusa feels a surge of warmth on the tip of his ears, and it’s spreading to his cheeks, and blooming across his chest like wildfire. He needs to put out this heat before his whole body sets on fire. 

A squeal rings in the living room as a huge mass of weight plops onto you, its head finding its way to your lap as it snuggles to keep itself close, soft curls tickling your skin as it makes itself comfortable and cosy, sharing the warmth in the cool evening air. 

Omi-Omi the Ominous. That’s definitely something that will only stay in the four walls of this small apartment. Never, ever to the ears of his blond teammate.  

#sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu writings #sakusa fluff #sakusa drabble #hq drabble #please bear with my bad humor im sorry #i just thought it was funny hence #ha ha

[myb9collection]

REV199 - New Found Glory - ‘Make the Most of It’ - Opaque Turquoise, Exclusive B9 cover, hand numbered 26/10

#bridge9 #bridge nine #vinyl #bridge nine records #bridgenine #vinylclub #new found glory #revelation records

[steviewashere]

Laughter Like a Kiss on the Lips

Rating: General CW: Steve Harrington has Lackluster Parents (Not Terrible, But Not Amazing Either) Tags: Established Relationship, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Dialogue Heavy, Making Promises, Reflecting on the Good Parts of Childhood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Laughter, Tickling, Ticklish Steve Harrington For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is wanting to know everything about what makes up the person you're in love with, even the difficult stuff."

💕—————💕

They’ve been laying on the carpet of Steve’s living room for the better half of an hour. Sprawled, loose, listening to one another breathe. The day’s been a long one. Early work shifts, car breakdowns, a short and resolved argument. It’s just been rough.

Debriefing usually results in this. Silence and floor. Closed eyes and steady chests. But Eddie, the restless jumble of energy he is, begins to hum. Not something he’d usually go after, at least that’s what Steve believes. Isn’t heavy. Isn’t loud or dark or saturated. Light. Effervescent and warm. Like sun rays cascading through a stain glass window.

It’s almost country, funny enough. Again, at least that’s what Steve thinks it is. He’s not the most versed when it comes to music. Sure, he knows about jazz and pop and early rock, blues and all. He’s aware of all that and some more indie things that Robin likes to shove down his throat when they’re driving out somewhere. But Eddie’s not one to steer far from his usual course, so this humming music he’s got going on, it’s new yet welcomed to Steve.

“That’s new,” he points out.

Eddie stops and his head shifts against the carpet, hair lightly scraping. He’s gonna be a frizzy mess, but Steve adores taking care of it at the end of the day. A questioning hum emanates. But neither of them open their eyes.

“The song you got stuck in your head,” Steve notes, “it’s a new one.”

Chuckling, Eddie mumbles, “Ain’t that new.” Steve hears him turn on his side. His voice closer against the shell of his ear, facing towards him then. “Something from when I was growing up.”

“Wayne like country or something?”

Eddie scoffs. “It isn’t country, Stevie. It’s bluegrass. Different kind of folk, babe.” A hand settles on Steve’s chest. His thumb rubs in circles where Steve’s heart is. “‘Nine Pound Hammer’, but it’s Merle Travis’s version. Mom was from eastern Tennessee, the Appalachian region. Lots of folk songs come from the Appalachian people.”

Steve opens his eyes and lolls his head to look directly at Eddie. They softly smile at each other. “She sing that to you?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Eddie murmurs. “More so heard it on her records. She wasn’t the best singer, not to speak ill of the dead. But—“ He sucks his teeth. “—Yeah, she’d sing. Dance to it, too. Dad came from Tennessee, too, but moved up to Indiana when he was a little kid. Didn’t stop him from pursuing a failed music career or women. He sang to her, what she liked, played it on his acoustic.”

Steve hums. “Music is your family’s world, isn’t it?”

Eddie chuckles again. “Well, it got my parents together. And they had me. So, it’s kinda like god in a sense. The life bringer.” He sighs. “What about you, Stevie? Got any songs from your childhood?”

Thinking back, no not really. His parents have always been very distant from one another. Not necessarily away from him, but the crumbling of their marriage lead to the rusting of the bridge that connected the three of them. There isn’t any rich storytelling within the Harrington name either. Nothing like a cute little meeting at a bar on the outskirts of town. Or even something where they went from high school rivals to close friends to lovers and then back to strangers.

No, his parents were forced to meet over a business deal meeting. Forced into a marriage neither of them wanted. And they made love in the dark. Steve was conceived in a dark bedroom where only their stuttered breaths could be heard. And they didn’t look after one another. Didn’t take care of each other, not like Steve does with Eddie and Eddie does with Steve.

So he shrugs. “No,” he answers honestly.

“Really?” Eddie incredulously questions, “Nothing at all?” He sits up on one of his elbows, eyes wide down at Steve. “That feels hard to believe.”

“You wanted to know, so I’m telling you. It’s not a pretty story.”

“What isn’t a pretty story? The birth of some song that reminds you of being a little kid?”

“I don’t—There isn’t anything that takes me back to being a little kid. I hated being a little kid. The story’s ugly anyway.”

“Tell me,” Eddie quietly pleads. “Tell me even if it’s shitty, I wanna know.”

He has to really think hard on this. Still, there’s no music. No movies or plays or anything of that nature. Books felt like an obligation, too, when they were teaching him how to read. There was bible study and church Sundays and his starchy, stiff outfit. His mom and her spit slick thumb and his unruly eating habits. Manners taught and hands slapped.

There’s not much good, unfortunately. But, something nice comes to mind.

“My parents didn’t like each other. I don’t think they really knew how to do that,” Steve starts. “I was just kind of a product of that, I guess. Like I was the trophy to complete their gauntlet. They dated and they bought a house and they got engaged and they got married, they had me. Forced dating, though.” He rests his own palm on the back of Eddie’s hand. Scratching dully at his skin. “But, as much as they hated being near one another, there was this one thing they did constantly. That they included me in on.”

Eddie hums. “Sounds promising,” he whispers. “What’d they do, babydoll?”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s wrist. Pulls away and runs his fingers through the ends of Eddie’s curls. “They did each other’s hair. They did my hair, too.” He eyes the frizz that he knew would eventually make itself known. Raking over the pattern of Eddie’s curls. The rough, choppy cut to his bangs. He adores Eddie’s hair. “It was kinda funny. We’d all be topless—sans like my mom’s bra, y’know because the hair would get on our shirts anyway?—and we’d huddle in the downstairs master bathroom. As big as this house is, that room is fucking small.

“I’d sit on the counter. In my sleep shorts, hands wrapped around the soft tummy of this brown teddy bear my mom got me, socks on my feet. Butt on the edge of the sink. Feet kicking around in the open air. I liked to sit in front of my dad.” His hand gently rests on the side of Eddie’s neck, eyes remaining glued to the spot. He’s never shared this before. Kinda wants to remain lost for a while.

Continues, “He has this very thick handlebar mustache. He’s always had it. And as my mom stood behind him—trimming up the top of his head, raking her fingers through with mousse—he’d take his own shears to his ‘stache. Would shape it up, stretch his lips down, raise his eyebrows in focus.

“It made me laugh. And he’d kinda chuckle. But when he was done?”

Eddie’s still smiling at him. He can feel it. His own face must be doing the same. “What’d he do, sweetheart?”

“He’d set his shears to the side and he’d—“ Steve chuckles. “He’d tickle my ribs! The bastard would turn his attention to me, crinkle up his eyes in sadistic laughter, and shove his fingers in my ribs. It was stupid, but I liked it. And obviously, it made me laugh. I used to honk-squeak. Like super loud.” He takes a deep breath, and on the exhale his smile wisps away from him. “It’s the only time we really laughed together. It’s the only time I felt like—Like I was their kid. Not some object to show off. Now I just do my own hair. I miss that time, those feelings,” he quietly admits.

Above him, Eddie gently coos. A soft sound. But when he finally chances a look, there’s a mischievous glint to his eyes. Mirth. In one swift motion, Eddie is straddling his hips, cold hands under Steve’s t-shirt, rucking the clothing up, and jabbing his fingers into his ribs. 

Steve tries to shove his hands away, but can’t help the way he surrenders. Curling in on himself, smile stretching across his face, nose scrunching with his laughter, the kind of laughter that leaves him gasping and honking and squeaking. Just like it was when he was a little boy. The sensation leaves him breathless and squealing, slapping at Eddie’s chest. Still smiling and wonderful when Eddie relents.

“And there he is,” Eddie whispers. “There’s Steve Harrington. Smiling at me all gorgeous. Can’t believe you’re ticklish, baby. That’s adorable.”

A half-hearted slap lands to the center of Eddie’s chest. “I told you that with confidence. Don’t use it against me.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Eddie swears. “Eye for an eye. I gave you my love for bluegrass, you gave me the joy of your laughter.” He leans down into Steve’s space again. His body yin-yang to his own. A hand petting over Steve’s hair. “You know what we get to do now?”

Steve gives him his own questioning hum.

“We get to combine. Make our own good memories. Tell each other our tainted stories. About your insufferable parents and my criminal dad and my long-gone mom. About your cold house and mine that was consumed by fire. I’ll melt your ice, you’ll douse my fire. And we find you a song that’ll remind you of the start of this. And you take care of the frizz in my hair.” He kisses Steve’s forehead. Murmuring against the skin, “I saw you eyeing my ends. You ain’t discreet.”

In response, Steve laughs once more. He sighs and leans up into Eddie’s space, a soft kiss square on his lips. Pulling away, he whispers, “To new beginnings.”

“And to happily ever afters,” Eddie promises.

💕—————💕

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 4 #mild hurt/comfort #fluff

[colourstreakgryffin]

The Six Pillars; Masterlist #2~

Welcome to my first temple~! Here is the rest of the Masterlist I couldn’t fit on my first one~! This is the era of my hardwork on Tumblr

💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

Pillar #1: Demon Slayer~❤️

🧡 Kyojuro: Troublesome Taps

🧡🩷 Kyojuro and Mitsuri: Child of Flames

💜❤️ Genya and Kaigaku: Body Matters

💙 Muichiro: Three Little Kittens

❤️ Tanjiro: Protection Squad

🌈💜🧡 Douma, Kokushibo and Kyojuro: Little Gem

💚 Kanao: Sunflowers and Roses

💜💜 Obanai and Kokushibo: Snowy Irises

❤️ Muzan: Ruler of my Heart

💜 Obanai: Elite Nine, Lord of Poisons

🧡 Kyojuro: Fantasy is True

💜 Obanai: Sombre Joke

💜 Shinobu: Longterm Infatuation

❤️ Tanjiro: Golden Child

❤️ Muzan: New Member

❤️💜 Yoriichi and Michikatsu: Day and Night Chatting

🌈 Douma: Creamy Paint

❤️ Muzan: Wandering Child

💜🌈❤️ Kokushibo, Douma and Akaza: Nicknaming Game

💜 Shinobu: Bath of Scolding

💚 Sanemi: Grandest Reward

🧡❤️ Kyojuro and Akaza: Falling Hopes

🖤 Zohakuten: The Victim

❤️ Tanjiro: Just So Snuggly

🖤 Zohakuten: Hate and Love, Black and White

💛 Hotaru: I Don’t Like You

💜 Kokushibo: Round and Plump

❤️💛💜 Tanjiro, Zenitsu and Obanai: Grade Falter

❤️ Tanjiro: Truly Accidental

🌈 Douma: Fascinating Tales

💙 Giyuu: All the Respect

💚 Karaku: Temple of Leisure

💚💜 Sanemi and Genya: Internal Guardians

💛💚❤️ Urogi, Karaku and Sekido: Hybrid Fun

💚 Gyutaro: Shared Links

💙💚❤️ Aizetsu, Karaku and Sekido: Multi-Babysitter

💜🩷 Obanai and Mitsuri: Dear Reptile

💙 Giyuu: Hopeless Attempts

❤️❤️ Muzan and Akaza: Daddy’s Support

💙 Yuichiro: A Bad Feeling

❤️❤️ Sekido and Kaigaku: Work Policy

💜💜 Kokushibo and Obanai: Protective Impairment

🧡 Kyojuro: Sweet Nightmares

🧡 Senjuro: Musical Heartbeat

❤️ Rui: Funnel Blanket

🌈 Douma: Rainbow Bridge

💜 Obanai: Happy Birthday, King

❤️ Tanjiro: My Bad Habits

❤️ Rui: Spinning Web

💙 Yuichiro: Foggy Head

💜 Obanai: Sugar Catches the Fly

💚💜🧡 Sanemi, Shinobu and Senjuro: Pirate Royal

❤️ Akaza: Power Pair

❤️ Yoriichi: Far Too Attached

💜🌈❤️ Kokushibo, Douma and Akaza: Book By the Cover

❤️ Kamaboko Squad: Merfolk AU

💜 KNY: Hilarity Contest

💜 KNY: Cookie Tray

💛 Hantengu: Embrace Me and Kiss Me

💜 KNY: Crack Mess

💙 Gyokko: Evil Spirit

💜 Kokushibo: Item Mountain

💜 Kokushibo: Faster, Stronger, Smarter

❤️ Yoriichi: So Mean

🌈 Douma: Grand Party

❤️ Muzan: Trio of Disaster

❤️💜 Tanjiro and Obanai: Social Aid

❤️ Tengen: Flashiest Father

❤️ Muzan: True Angel

💜 Obanai: Bandy Bandy

🖤 Gyomei: Child of Sunshine

💜 Kokushibo: Amore Shrine

🩷 Kanae: Loving Spouse

💙 Muichiro: Doctor Dick and Balls

💙 Muichiro: Entomophobia

💜 Shinobu: Amblyodipsa

💙 Muichiro: Mighty Stead

💙🩷❤️ Muichiro, Mitsuri and Tanjiro: Scary Habit

❤️❤️💜 Kaigaku, Tengen and Obanai: Beauty and Grace

💚💙💜 Sanemi, Giyuu and Shinobu: Worse Accident

🧡💛 Hashira: Playing Favourites

💚 Sanemi: Little Things

❤️ Sekido: One’s Bewilderment

❤️ Muzan: Hide and Seek

💙🩷 Muichiro and Mitsuri: Gamble of a Lifetime

🩷 Mitsuri: Pink Hognose

💙 Muichiro: Bubble Pop

🌈 Douma: Rubbing Post

💙💜❤️ Muichiro, Obanai and Tanjiro: Not Your Fault

💙💜💚 Giyuu, Obanai and Sanemi: Lady of my Dreams

🧡💛 Hashira: Excitement Test

Pillar #2: Jujutsu Kaisen~💜

🖤 Toji: Little Crybaby

💚 Maki: Multiple Problems

💙 Satoru: Daddy’s Clingy Little Princess

Pillar #3: JoJo Bizarre Adventure~💚

—

Pillar #4: Death Note~💙

🖤 L: K.I.N.K

🖤 L: Kindred Shackle

Pillar #5: Haikyuu~💛

—

Pillar #6: Record of Ragnorak~🩷

🧡 Buddha: Enlightenment Gone Corrupted

💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

Additional Pillar~🖤

💙 Tomura: Cracking Bond

🖤 Tumblr Trend: Five Things

Here is the middle section of this blog’s overall Masterlist~ Masterlist #3

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #anime and manga #sorcery fight #jujutsu kaisen #haikyuu #jojo bizarre adventure #death note #record of ragnorak #anime imagines #imagines #demon slayer x reader #sorcery fight x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #haikyuu x reader #death note x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure x reader #record of ragnorak x reader

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 2 - Prompt: Naughty @wolfstarmicrofic

January Daily Series - 472 words

<<<Previous Part

A startled laugh puffed through his nose at the abrupt introduction. Among the myriad of ways that Sirius had met new people, this had to be the strangest. It was the first time that a stranger shook his hand while crushed beneath the weight of his absurdly naughty dog.

“I’m Sirius Black,” he said, taking the man’s hand. “Since you’ve already met James and Padfoot, I’m guessing you knew that.”

“He did talk about you a lot, but it was Regulus who told me your name. I met him just before James.”

“James didn’t happen to be trailing my brother, did he?”

Remus shrugged. “I’m not sure. He was chasing Padfoot while I was talking to Regulus.”

Sirius hummed thoughtfully as he released Remus’s hand. “How is it that you’ve met my brother, my best friend, and my dog before you’ve met me? That’s an odd coincidence.”

“Not really. We’ve met before too.” The man turned his attention to Padfoot and scratched his sides vigorously. The dog panted happily as he leaned into the affection.

“When?”

He was pretty sure that he would remember meeting a bloke with sage green eyes that crinkled at the sides when he smiled. Particularly one with a glossy scar cutting across the bridge of his nose. Even though the bloke wasn’t jaw-droppingly handsome, he was interesting to look at. Given the options, Sirius definitely preferred interesting.

“At the ice rink. You were flirting with my best friend.”

Sirius snorted in amusement. “That doesn’t really narrow it down.”

Remus glanced at him, then rolled his eyes. “Redhead with green eyes and-”

“Lily? You’re friends with Lily?”

“Lily Evans. Yes,” Remus confirmed with a nod. “I was sitting behind her at the rink.”

Sirius tried to recall that conversation, and the people surrounding it, but beyond Lily’s teasing banter and the looming figure at her shoulder…suddenly his brain short-circuited. He stepped back and surveyed the man’s sprawled limbs. “You don’t happen to be about eight feet tall?”

“Uh…no? I don’t think that’s humanly possible.”

“Robert Wadlow was nearly nine, actually.”

Remus slow-blinked, then shook his head. “Who?”

“Tallest man recorded. He was eight feet, eleven inches.”

“Never heard of him.”

Sirius nodded distractedly as he compared the man’s height to Padfoot. It helped that the dog was now draped over his torso. “He was American. Died at 22.”

“If you say so.”

“The Guinness Book of World Records says so.” Sirius gestured vaguely over the two of them. “Padfoot is a hair over three feet long, so you must be over six?”

“You know the length of your dog?”

“Of course, we use him as a standard of measurement all the time. He’s a literal yardstick. You’re a little over two Padfoot’s tall, therefore six feet and a bit.”

A delightfully crooked grin spread over Remus’s face. “Sounds right.”

Next Part>>>

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #the marauders #wolfstar microfic

[ratmobstudio]

Los Aquillios, CA. 1968. It’s the hottest summer on record since ‘32, and the heat is not the only thing starting to get under everyone’s skin.

You’ve spent your entire life as an associate to the Verano crime family— one of the three biggest mob factions this side of the West Coast. This life has brought you respect, a steady income, even a family who treats you as one of their own.

But you’ve grown tired of constantly looking over your shoulder, of the bloodshed that paints the streets far too often for your comfort. You know as well as anyone that there are only two ways to leave the life: disappearing into the harsh clutch of witness protection or in a bodybag.

Fortunately, you’ve discovered a third way: making enough money on your own to vanish into thin air. 

Yet when your plans collide with two different men, the trajectories of your fates will be changed forever.

Play as a down-on-his luck mobster with several secrets that could result in a one-way trip to the bottom of the river.

Make allies and enemies among the people you’ve known your whole life. Burn bridges or stick together, sink or swim.

Shape the MC’s personality and worldview.

Forge relationships between a cast of shady characters, each with their own flaws, and earn your reputation among the city’s crime factions.

Try to claw your way out of the mess you’ve dug for yourself, kid.

Walter “Angel Eyes” LaTorre [M] | Verano family associate

Your childhood best friend, Walter is now nothing but a thorn at your side— and everyone else’s. A degenerate gambler relying on his boyish charm and enthusiasm to get by,  there’s nothing Walter likes better than to spend money that isn’t his. But time is ticking, debts are unpaid, and you’ve always been one to help a friend in need. Haven’t you?

Carmine Pitera [M] | Verano family made man

Balanced on the edge of the family’s inner circle and egged on by the ever-burning ambition in his gut, Carmine is a cunning and dangerous mobster. He’s been around the block since long before you ever came on scene. With nine lives almost up, Carmine has started looking at you differently, and you’re not quite sure if you should run.

Ophelia Gallo [F] | Civilian

A femme fatale found at every bar the Three Families' own, Ophelia delights in the air of danger and allure that has permeated every inch of her life. The daughter of the don of the Perricone family, what she isn’t given, she’ll take— even if it’s detrimental to her. She’s set her sights on delving deeper into the dangerous world her father occupies, and she wants you as a guide. 

[Full Character List]

Demo TBA + Ch1 in development

#interactive fiction #if wip #interactive fiction intro #wip intro #if games #twine game #dev log #interactive novel #wip; otl

[ruslangazizov]

post your nine favourite albums

tysm @lukevangelista for tagging me!!

1. From Under The Cork Tree — Fall Out Boy

2. Moving Pictures — Rush

3. Bridges — Josh Groban

4. Danger Days — My Chemical Romance

5. Masterpiece Theatre — Marianas Trench

6. Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812 — Original Broadway Cast Recording

7. A Farewell To Kings — Rush

8. A Night At The Opera — Queen

9. Dead Silence — Billy Talent

gonna tag @frasermints @wmnylander @butchdomi @bumperbonk @kucherovv @donttelltheelff and anyone else who wants to share their faves!! pls tag me i gotta listen to some new stuff

#tag game #i had to limit myself to two rush albums #which was maybe the hardest thing i’ve ever done #could have also included one or two more trench mcr and fob albums #and josh groban’s entire discography #but again #only nine

[macatt4c]

and so we meet again (chp. 1)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Relationship: Mizu/Original Female Character

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Bisexual Mizu, Second Chances, Abijah Fowler is Mizu's Father, Fluff and Angst, Past Mizu/Mikio

Word Count: 1,921

-> [AO3 LINK] <-

If there was a journalist tasked with studying the daily life of Mizu Nanase, they would quickly lose interest and beg their boss for a different job.

At least, that’s what Mizu believes would happen.

If you were to ask the blue-eyed Tokyo resident, she would tell you that her life was as far from interesting as it can get; she had few friends, rarely went out at night, and kept a strict workout regimen. While other 24-year-old women in the city would be out clubbing and meeting men, Mizu was in bed by nine o’clock and woke just before dawn every day to go for her daily run before work. She was an average salary-woman with an average office job, working her average nine-to-five shift before heading straight home to the two-bedroom apartment she shared with her roommate, a sweet college student named Kinuyo. To any outside perspective, this life seemed lonely, and it was, but Mizu wouldn’t admit it. She had spent many years convincing herself that she could find comfort and contentment in solitude, to keep a minimal life and focus on maintaining what she had in the current time instead of trying to cultivate relationships that would ultimately fall apart. 

This mindset was more than understandable for someone who had the track record of relationships that she did.

It was an average Friday night for the blue-eyed woman when it happened. She had been thoughtlessly switching through television channels, dressed in lounge pants with a convenience store beer in her other hand, when she felt the vibration of her phone from where it sat on the couch cushion beside her. Mizu paused her channel-surfing on some Western history documentary before glancing down at the lit-up screen. It was a notification from Instagram, a social media app Mizu really didn’t use but kept at the insistence of her friend Akemi. The pop-up itself wasn’t to indicate a new message or a new post from one of the few accounts she followed, but one of those “you might know this person” messages. Mizu had been getting those more often than direct messages, which spoke volumes to how reclusive she was to the friends she did have rather than the friends she could have. Deciding to humor the app’s algorithm, Mizu picked up her phone and tapped on the notification, allowing the app to open itself. She was expecting this potential acquaintance to be one of Akemi’s exes or even one of the handful of childhood peers who tormented her in middle school, now acting like self-made entrepreneurs or social media models.

But the person Instagram actually did recommend was a shock that was almost enough to make her drop her beer.

The account being displayed on Mizu’s phone screen was that of a blonde Asian woman. Her profile picture was that of what Mizu clocked as the Golden Gate Bridge in California, a key sign that all but confirmed her assumption on the woman. It wasn’t until she scanned the first three photos on the account that her conviction became even stronger. 

Blonde hair.

Upturned brown eyes.

A beauty mark just under the left corner of her bottom lip.

Oh, and the name on the account?

Kane Akiyama.

Mizu practically shot herself out of her seat, haphazardly placing her beer on the coffee table, before beginning to pace the room, now scrolling through the rest of the photos on Kane’s account. For an account with less than 500 followers, Kane did seem to post frequently; selfies, candid shots of wherever she was, food pics, group snapshots of her family, even a video here and there of her playing the guitar. With every post Mizu went through, the more and more the feeling of her heart pounding in her throat made her want to vomit or cry or both.

It was her.

It was her Kane.

The last time Mizu Fowler and Kane Akiyama saw each other was a hot August evening. The two girls, barely thirteen at the time, had spent the entire day together, doing anything and everything under the blazing sun. But at that moment, the sun was descending, an indication that their day of fun was coming to a close. But of course, that day was the best and worst day of that summer, as Mizu recollected how Kane cried the entire walk back to their neighborhood. A month prior to that day, Kane had broken the news to Mizu that her family would be moving overseas to America due to her mother getting a job transfer, a piece of news that seemed to break Mizu’s heart in an instant. So that prominent day was the last day the two friends would ever see each other again. After that day, Mizu spent the rest of the summer locked away in her room, refusing to go out or see any of her other friends. She went on to attend high school, something that became so much harder without her best friend to be there at her side. She was ridiculed for her mixed race heritage, shoved into walls and being subjected to desk graffiti and thermoses being emptied on her. It was a miracle she made it to graduation. Maybe she was holding onto the hope that she would one day be reunited with Kane?

Well, it sure seemed like it now.

A feeling of hesitance came over Mizu as her thumb hovered over the ‘follow’ button. Should she do it? It would be good to reconnect with someone she once held so dear and close to her heart. Kane was her closest friend for a long time before she moved away. What if America changed her? Well, it had been eleven years since they last saw each other, it would make sense that Kane wasn’t the same from middle school. But how much has America changed her? Did it change her for the worse? Was she a bad person and nothing like the girl Mizu once knew? Did she even want to reconnect? But if she did, how would Mizu know until she reached out?

Suddenly, her phone began to vibrate as an incoming call was displayed on the screen. The familiar face of Akemi took the place of Kane’s Instagram account. Akemi Tokunobu was a girl from a wealthy family back in Mizu’s hometown of Kyoto. The two women met three years prior, through Taigen, an old classmate of Mizu’s who had been pursuing Akemi behind her family’s back. Miu first found Akemi spoiled and arrogant, but over time the two of them became rather close. Akemi was the only other female friend (besides Kinuyo) Mizu has made since Kane left that fateful summer and it wasn’t long into the friendship that the two of them formed a bond closer to sisters than just friends. If there was one person Mizu tried to keep in constant contact with, it was Akemi.

It didn’t take long for Mizu to accept the call and raise the phone to her ear. “Akemi?”

“Hey, Mizu!” The cheery sound of Akemi’s voice came over the speaker. “Look, I know you said you aren’t really a club girl, but there is this one cocktail bar that opened in Kabukicho and I think you’d really like it. I took Taigen last weekend and-”

“I found her.” Mizu blurted out, cutting Akemi off completely.

There was a pause before Akemi spoke again. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I found her.” Mizu repeated. “Kane. My old friend from school.”

“The blonde girl you were in love with?”

Mizu’s face turned an instant red at the question. “She was my friend, Akemi.”

“Yes, your friend that you pinned for pathetically.”

“Akemi.”

“Sorry, sorry. So you found her. Is she in town or…?”

“No, I found her Instagram account. The app suggested it to me, believe it or not.”

“Huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?”

“Well, maybe Instagram realized that you have literally no social life and decided to reconnect you with the last person you were happiest with?”

Now Mizu’s face had to be the color of a cherry. “Are you bullying me?”

“Oh, absolutely. We haven’t talked for a hot minute so I have to make up for lost time.”

“Real funny, Akemi.”

“I try my best.”

Mizu let out a groan of frustration. “Anyways, I found her account. Should I follow her?”

“Do you not want to follow her?”

“I mean… I would like to reconnect with her.”

“Okay, so follow her and send her a message.”

“Wouldn’t that be too much?”

“....you just said you wanted to reconnect with her.”

“Yes, I do.”

“How else would you be able to reconnect with her, Mizu?”

Mizu paused, thinking for a few moments. “I… I think I still have her mother’s email address.”

“You have her mom’s email? My god, are you twenty-four or fifty-four? Who sends emails anymore?”

“Okay, okay!” Mizu exclaimed. “I won’t send her mom an email. I should send her a message?”

“Yes, and make sure you tell her who you are and that you want to reconnect. Nothing too lengthy, just short and to the point.”

“Alright.”

“And I know you don’t use Instagram, so if she wants to reconnect, make sure to give her a social media account you do use. Or at least your username on WhatsApp.”

“Yeah, alright. Okay, I can do that.”

“Okay, cool. So, I take it you don’t want to go out tonight?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, while I’m still in town, do you want to at least get something to eat near your place?”

“Yeah… Yeah, that would be fine.”

“Wonderful. I’ll be at your building in ten minutes. Please don’t come down in your pajamas this time, okay?”

Mizu huffed. “It’s just dinner between friends, Kemi.”

“Yes, but it’s dinner with me. You need to be presentable in case anyone sees me and snaps a picture. Don’t need to have any dating speculations between us.”

“Right, you already have enough of those with Taigen.”

“Very funny, Mizu. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Bye.”

As soon as the call ended, the sight of Kane’s Instagram account returned on screen. Once again, Mizu found herself hesitating. Akemi was right, though. How else was she supposed to reconnect with someone if she didn’t reach out to them? And if Kane didn’t want to reconnect, she would ignore the message or simply say so. There was no harm in this.

And so, after taking a deep breath to center her nerves, Mizu tapped the ‘follow’ button.

She then tapped the ‘message’ button and, after a few minutes of typing and deleting and typing again, she came up with a good enough sounding message;

Hello Kane. You may not remember me, but I am Mizu Fowler. We went to middle school together and were best friends for a while before you moved to America. I came across your account thanks to Instagram’s suggestion and I thought it would be great if we reconnected. If you do not wish to, I completely understand. I hope that you are healthy and happy, wherever you are. 

After rereading it a couple of times, Mizu finally tapped the arrow button, sending the message. She then immediately locked her phone and placed it on the kitchen counter so she could start getting ready for her dinner plans with Akemi. It was another seven minutes before the phone vibrated, this time with a message displayed on the screen:

Holy shit.

#ao3 crosspost #fanfic #fanfiction #oc fanfiction #oc insert #bes oc #blue eye samurai oc #oc x canon #mizu x oc #blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #bes mizu x oc #macthedrag0n #ao3 fanfic #ao3

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

Summertime

Written By: Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Gerard Way & Frank Iero

Artist: My Chemical Romance

Released: 2010

“Summertime” is a ‘new wave’ song, allegedly believed to be written about frontman Gerard Way’s wife, Lyn-z Way. In an interview, Gerard said that it started as a riff Mikey had written, before evolving into a song they ‘couldn’t have the record without.’ “[“Summertime”] is one of the lyrically personal songs on the album, whereas the rest of it is just me talking about my worldview. So it’s a really beautiful song and again—no rules. We can have a soft song.”

[Verse 1] When the lights go out Will you take me with you And carry all this broken bone Through six years down In crowded rooms and highways I call home? Is something I can't know till now Till you picked me off the ground With brick in hand, your lip-gloss smile Your scraped-up knees and [Chorus] If you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes, how long until we Find our way in the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me anytime you want [Verse 2] Terrified of what I'd be As a kid, from what I've seen Every single day when people try And put the pieces back together Just to smash them down Turn my headphones up real loud I don't think I need them now 'Cause you stop the noise and [Chorus] If you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes, how long until we Find our way in the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me anytime you want [Post-Chorus] Well, anytime you want Well, anytime you want [Guitar Solo] [Bridge] Don't walk away, don't walk away Don't walk away, don't walk away! [Chorus] 'Cause if you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes, how long until we Find our way in the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me [Post-Chorus] Or you can write it on your arm You can run away with me Anytime you want

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

Written By: Freddie Mercury

Artist: Queen

Released: 1976

The song was the eighth track on their album “A Day At The Races” which was released in 1976. The song also appeared on “Queens First EP” released in 1977. The song is about how Freddie is an old-fashioned lover, taking his partners on old-school dates such as dancing or dinner, also hinting at the fact that he is a good lover.

[Verse 1] I can dim the lights and sing you songs Full of sad things We can do the tango, just for two I can serenade and gently play On your heart strings Be a Valentino, just for you [Chorus] "Ooh love, ooh lover boy What're you doing tonight? Hey boy" Set my alarm, turn on my charm That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy [Verse 2] Ooh, let me feel Your heartbeat (Grow faster, faster) Ooh, can you feel my love heat? (Ohh) Come on and sit on my hot seat of love And tell me how do you feel, right after all I'd like for you and I to go romancing Say the word, your wish is my command [Chorus] “Ooh love, ooh lover boy What're you doing tonight? Hey boy” Write my letter, feel much better I'll use my fancy patter on the telephone [Bridge] When I'm not with you, think of you always I miss you (I miss those long hot summer nights) When I'm not with you, think of me always Love you, love you Hey boy where do you get it from? Hey boy where did you go? I learned my passion in the good old-fashioned School of lover boys [Guitar Solo] [Verse 3] Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine (One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine o'clock) precisely I will pay the bill, you taste the wine Driving back in style in my saloon will do quite nicely Just take me back to yours, that will be fine (Come on and get it) [Chorus] Ooh love (There he goes again) Ooh lover boy (Who's my good Old-fashioned lover boy?) (Ooh ooh) What're you doing tonight? Hey boy! Everything's all right, just hold on tight That's because I'm a good old Fashioned (Fashioned) lover boy

#polls #poll tournament #poll bracket #tournament #bracket #lovesongbracket #round5 #summertime #my chemical romance #good old-fashioned lover boy #freddie mercury

[fizzydrink698]

chemistry | yeji

kinktober day 6: mirror sex

pairing: hwang yeji x reader

word-count: 4.5k

genre: college au, dance class au, rivals to lovers

warnings: swearing, sexual content (oral sex, masturbation), reader has some pent-up issues regarding inferiority and more than a little fixation on yeji, misplaced feelings that eventually get sorted out healthily with a lil nudging

summary:

It hurt, sometimes, to look at her. In those little moments between run-throughs, when she would drop her performance energy and just be her for a few moments, you found yourself constantly looking over. It felt like you couldn’t help it, she just demanded your attention like that.

You hated it. And her.

You really hated her.

Five, six, seven, eight.

You hated her.

For the first eighteen years of your life, you had been the best dancer, in every class you took, in every performance you did. You were the one that the teacher would point to and go “like this, everyone, this is perfect.”

And then, you got to university – and met her.

All of a sudden, you weren’t getting the solos. You weren’t the best, you weren’t the example, because you just had to be in the same team as Hwang Yeji.

She was just…perfect. In everything she did, and it fucking infuriated you. It was like she exposed every single weakness you had. You felt so clumsy dancing next to her, you felt like an idiot for ever thinking you could go anywhere with dance. Every new showcase, you went head-to-head for the solo, and nine times out of ten, they went with Yeji.

Your rivalry had taken over your life. You would lie in bed, stare up at the ceiling and all you could think about was her. The way she picked up routines without a second thought, how fluidly she could move, her perfect lines, how she just…

Ugh, fuck her.

She infected every part of your life, even outside of dance. It was like every conversation just couldn’t go on without something forcing you to bring up Yeji. Arranging plans for the evening? You had to practise to beat Yeji. Studying for the next assignment? You were exhausted from staying up and watching recordings of old showcases Yeji danced in.

Anything could be traced back to Yeji. Anything.

“He’s cute,” Aisha, a friend of yours, pointed out over lunch one day. She was referring to a blond guy by the salad bar, trying and failing not to look disgusted as his loud friend loaded his bowl with croutons and pineapple chunks. “I think he’s in my art class.”

He was pretty cute, you supposed. It had been so long since you’d been interested in anyone, it almost felt weird to acknowledge it. But there was something about him that just…

“What’s his name?” You asked, brow furrowing.

Aisha raised an eyebrow, and you realised she looked genuinely surprised. At your question? No, maybe not. Probably the fact that you’d shown interest at all. “Begins with a H, I think. Hyunjin? I can find out if he’s seeing anyone, if you’re interested.”

Hyunjin?

You looked back over at him, narrowing your eyes. He looked almost familiar, had you seen him before? Somewhere on campus? Something about that bone structure, the body language…

The loud friend suddenly elbowed Hyunjin in the ribs, and when he nodded his head over to you, you realised you had been caught. Hyunjin turned his head, eyes finding you, and there was a brief second when you took his appearance in and thought maybe you would take Aisha up on her offer, look at that face, the little shy smile he was giving you, and–

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, turning your head away sharply to squeeze your eyes shut and pinch the bridge of your nose before you had an aneurysm. “That’s fucking Yeji’s brother.”

With your eyes closed, you didn’t see Aisha’s expression as she paused, but you definitely heard the weird tone in her voice as she replied, almost amused. “Of course it is.”

Why was she everywhere?

Studio B has been closed for nearly a year for renovations.

Initially, the work was supposed to have been finished in a few months, but the budget had apparently run dry halfway through, and wouldn’t be finished until the start of the next school year when the department got a little more cash to burn.

The studio was deemed unsuitable to hold classes in, thanks to the half-finished flooring and bare concrete walls, and very few people had access to it.

You were one of those people. You’d been lent a key at some point last year when you helped out with the younger students, and apparently everyone had forgotten about it.

For once, you supposed, not being the centre of attention had its perks.

With Studio B, you had access to a practice space whenever you wanted, with no need to book ahead and no one else interrupting. It was the perfect way to catch up to Yeji, especially considering the upcoming showcase looming on the horizon.

That showcase was going to be headlined by duo performance, not a solo. On one hand, you wouldn’t have to compete with Yeji for the same spot. The two of you were the best in your group, you were the obvious choices and you’d passed the audition easily.

On the other hand, you would be sharing a stage with Yeji. Just the two of you alone. Every single move you made would be directly compared to hers.

You needed every bit of practice you could get because you just weren’t a natural like her. She picked up every little detail of choreography so quickly, every run-through she did was clean and fluid and purposeful.

This fact was only made more obvious by The Mirror.

In the initial stages of renovations, Studio B’s mirror had been removed – and revealed, for some inexplicable reason, that Studio A’s mirror was one-way. This wasn’t an issue when the two studio mirrors were back-to-back, but now?

You had a front-row seat to her practice sessions, whenever you came into the studio at the same time. You got to see just how fucking great Yeji could dance, even just rehearsing.

And because that fucking duo piece involved so much synchronisation, you had to dance move-for-move with her. It did wonders for your timing, you’d admit. Your instructor had said just as much, clapping her hands together after your most recent group rehearsal and – for once – complimented you on just how well you could move beat-for-beat with Yeji.

“You make wonderful partners,” she had told you. “The way you interact, the chemistry, it’s fascinating.”

It was infuriating, maybe, that you could only be praised after working so hard for so many hours on something that came to Yeji naturally. It got to you, having to dance in this barely-lit room, exposed timber and sawdust everywhere as your backdrop, copying Yeji’s movements as she danced in the light.

It hurt, sometimes, to look at her. In those little moments between run-throughs, when she would drop her performance energy and just be her for a few moments, you found yourself constantly looking over. It felt like you couldn’t help it, she just demanded your attention like that.

You hated it. And her.

You really hated her.

One night, you booked a few hours in Studio A. You needed the full-length mirrors, just to double-check your lines, and that was something Studio B just did not have.

Yeji was waiting for you inside.

She was standing in the centre of the room, arms crossed over her chest. For a moment, you thought she might have just finished a session right before yours. She was in her usual dance practice attire – sports bra, comfy sweats, her dark hair tied back in a sleek ponytail – but the absence of any sweat, any flush of exertion to her skin, tipped you off otherwise.

She didn’t just happen to be here. She specifically chose to be here.

For you, apparently.

Yeji shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking uncharacteristically serious. “I know about Studio B.”

You froze.

“…What, that we have one?” You asked, evasively, shifting your gaze away from her. “Wow, you catch on quick, Hwang.”

She ignored the jab. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do. You’ve been practising in there.”

You did your best to let the accusation roll off of you, but inside, your stomach clenched. “What makes you say that?”

“I had a weird feeling for a while,” Yeji said, calmly, and when your eyes darted back to her, you found her watching you. “Sometimes when I dance, I thought I could hear an echo. And then yesterday I was going through the floorwork part of the choreography where we hit the ground and…”

Fuck. You remembered that. You had even been happy at the time - the two of you were supposed to smack your hands against the floor at the same time, but Yeji didn’t. It seemed like she’d forgotten the choreo for that tiny portion, and you had been overjoyed.

Now, all you can think about is how loud your slapping the floor might have been. How much of a giveaway had it been?

Enough, apparently.

Your silence was enough to confirm Yeji’s suspicions, and you were surprised to see her jaw set. Her eyes flashed with anger. “It’s dangerous in there. They said they ripped all the flooring out, and…I can’t believe you were dumb enough to even try it. What if you got caught? What if you got injured?”

This was too much. You felt something sick and poisonous building in the pit of your stomach, spreading to your chest, knotting in your throat and choking you. The feeling of being caught out, the humiliation because how could you even explain this? That the only reason you took this stupid risk was because you’d never be as good as her without it? That without practising hours and hours every day, you’d look like an embarrassment next to her?

You tried to swallow down the lump in your throat, and forced a shrug. “I wanted some extra practice time.”

“Then practise with me,” Yeji exclaimed, incredulous. “This is our piece, we should be rehearsing together anyway! You could have just asked to share the studio during my time. I wouldn’t have minded.”

You pictured stumbling around, trying to get the choreography steps into your head, and perfect Yeji smirking to the side as she did every move flawlessly.

“No, thanks,” you retorted bitterly.

Yeji blinked, thrown for a moment, and then visibly stiffened with rage. You almost took a step back, as she shouted. “God, would you just get over yourself?”

“Me?” You said, almost recoiling, your voice rising in volume to match hers. “What about you? Why don’t you get your nose out of my fucking business? Why do you even care?”

“Because I’m worried about you! Especially if you’re doing stupid shit like this.”

You grit your teeth at the way her voice shook, at the way she was staring at you, like she was fucking…disappointed, or something. Fuck her. Fuck this.

“No, you’re not,” you said, dismissing her outright.

She scoffed, as if you were being the unreasonable one, and stepped forward. “Yes, I am.”

“Why?” You asked, matching her with your own step forward, dropping your bag to the floor with a loud thud. “Who cares if I get injured? Someone else gets my part in the routine, and you have nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t want anyone else doing this routine with me, I want you.”

If you were slightly more observant, if the rage-induced (Yeji-induced) blinders dropped for just a fraction of a second, you would have noticed the edge to those last few words.

As it was, you just kept pressing onward. “Why? Why does it have to be me? Why does it matter?”

Yeji squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head slightly, as if she just couldn’t comprehend your stupidity, and something in you burned at that, spiteful, hurt and–

“Because I like you, you fucking dumbass.”

You stopped in your tracks, faltering. It was like your brain crashed, or something, barely able to do anything more than replay her words, tripping over them, like a scratched record.

“And I know you like me,” Yeji added, challenging you. “Before you say anything.”

You choked, spluttering. “What?”

“You’re constantly looking over at me in class,” she pointed out, taking another step forward. “Like, all the time. It’s cute, how much you’re obsessed with me.”

“I am not obsessed with you–”

“Then, what? If you don’t like me, why are you doing all this?” Yeji asked, gesturing vaguely but animatedly around her. “Is it just jealousy? Is that it?”

You bristled at that, affronted. “I’m not jealous of you. I don’t want to be you, I…I just need to…”

You needed to be better than you were. Because the idea of looking dumb and clumsy and bad was just unthinkable, especially in front of…

In front of…

You stared wide-eyed at Yeji, pieces falling into place. There was a tiny split-second of charged silence, where you were lost for words, where Yeji stared at you with a look of dawning realisation.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Slowly, she took another step forward, closing the distance between the two of you almost entirely. You didn’t step back, but you felt something small starting to flicker inside of you. A new nervousness, an anxiety, an unsurety for what might come next.

Yeji lifted her hand, and the moment it touched the curve of your jaw, you felt a burst of something in your chest. Equal parts apprehension and anticipation.

“Yeji…” you murmured, her name slipping out of your mouth. You weren’t sure what it was. A warning? A confession? The voicing of the one thought that had been tormenting you constantly for months now?

Yeji paused at the uncertainty in your voice, and maybe she would have pulled away, had you not given into the temptation to lower your gaze to her mouth. It was quick, brief, just barely even a look, but she caught it.

Emboldened by it, she leaned in and kissed you.

You expected kissing Yeji to feel weird, or confusing, until your body and brain were able to catch up to this sudden revelation.

Instead, there was a rush of sensation that just felt right. Like a sigh of relief, like your brain was suddenly shouting this is what I was trying to tell you the whole time. It was intoxicating, almost overwhelming, a release of something that had been building for months, if not years.

She must have realised something similar, because for a first kiss, this was astonishingly bold. Instead of a mere peck, Yeji parted her lips slightly, moving her mouth against yours. You followed suit, after a second’s hesitation, your tongue just barely brushing against her lower lip.

Your hands immediately went to her waist, warm and bare under your hands. Your fingers curled inwards, nails scraping gently against her skin. Yeji’s response – a quiet little noise, almost like a hum but not quite – sent something electric coursing through you.

You didn’t know where to go from here. Where did you even start? You wanted everything and anything, you wanted to touch every part of her body that you had stared at in practice, you wanted to slide your hand up and inside of her bra and glimpse what had been hidden to you on a body you’d fixated on for so long that you felt it burned into your mind.

Yeji broke away, and something akin to pride swelled within you when you realised she was breathing just a little heavier. “See? We could have been doing this the whole–”

Impatience overwhelmed you, and you cut Yeji off by pressing your lips to hers once more. She seemed to accept this without complaint, curling an arm around your hips to pull you closer. You stumbled only slightly, just a half-step, in your urgency to draw even closer. One of your hands flew up to the back of her head, and after a second of fumbling, you removed her hair tie.

Fuck, her hair was perfect. You wanted to run your hands through it, you wanted to tangle your fingers in it and pull, you wanted to see what it looked like in your fist. All of it, all at once.

So horribly, unfairly pretty.

She slid the hand that had been cupping your jaw down, along your neck, onto your shoulders. Her palm sat nestled against your collarbone, and you imagined it sliding even lower.

You felt her hand twitch, as if she were thinking the very same thing.

“How long did you book this room for?” Yeji murmured, pulling back only slightly to speak, her lips still brushing yours.

“An hour,” you replied, heat blooming in the pit of your gut at her question, at all it implied.

You felt her grin, felt her open her mouth to say something – before hesitating. “Maybe we should stop here, for now.”

Your response was not a whine, but only through sheer self-restraint. “Why?”

She laughed a little, but it wasn’t unkind. Endeared, maybe. “We’re going kind of fast,” she noted.

“I don’t care,” you retorted. Now that you knew what this had been, just why you’d been so fixated for so long, the idea of holding off whatever was building here – and for how long? Hours? Days? Weeks? – horrified you. You knew what you wanted, waiting wouldn’t change that.

Yeji was proving insistent, however. “We should…like, talk, at least.”

“We can talk,” you argued. “Right now, if you want. Just keep touching me.”

Yeji laughed again, but this laugh was a little less innocent. When she leaned in again, her lips found your neck, and you made the softest of noises. Her hand slid down to your chest, squeezing it just shy of roughly, but enough to draw another noise from you.

“You’re very responsive,” she observed, enjoying the way you shivered when the pad of her thumb brushed your nipple through the fabric of your top.

You swallowed, closing your eyes. “I…I just know what I like.”

“Could have fooled me,” she teased, her hand moving again.

“That was…” you trailed off, inhaling sharply, when her hand slid under your top. “That was different.”

Yeji didn’t respond, content to watch your reactions as she played with you. You felt yourself relaxing under her touch, losing yourself for a few moments, letting your brain finally take a rest from how much you’ve been overthinking…everything, apparently.

Yeji only stopped kissing you when she needed to – when she had your top in both hands, and pulled it up over your head to remove it. You lifted your arms willingly, eyes opening to see Yeji staring completely unashamedly at your chest.

Oh, Yeji wanted you. It still felt surreal, and it only just really clicked, but Yeji really wanted you.

Your eyes met again, and Yeji’s face flushed. Still, she couldn’t help but grin. “I swear, anytime you wore that blue sports bra, I wanted to cry.”

You blinked. You knew the sports bra she was talking about, it was one of your favourites. But you didn’t wear it often, because… “It’s a little small for me.”

She grinned wider. “I know.”

Your face burned.

“So, you…” you mumbled thoughtlessly, tongue two steps ahead of your brain, and you were a little embarrassed to finish this train of thought. You got the feeling, though, judging by Yeji’s expectant expression, that it was a little late to avoid it now. “You, like…actually like me.”

Yeji raised an eyebrow. “Have I not made it very obvious yet?”

“OK, fair-“

“Because I can try harder,” she said, her eyes suddenly gleaming. “Get on the floor.”

An hour ago, if someone had told you that you’d be taking orders from Hwang Yeji without complaint, you would have laughed in their face.

You swallowed, a little nervous and a lot turned on, and lowered yourself to your knees. Maybe, if Yeji had remained standing tall, it would have been a little too much – but she matched you every step of the way, joining you on the floor.

Her knee slotted itself between your legs, and maybe you’d mistake it for an accident, if you hadn’t spent so much of your life noticing how very good Yeji was at making the most subtle of movements look incidental when they were very much deliberate.

For a while, you did nothing more than kiss – which felt like a pretty simplistic description for something so overwhelming. It didn’t account for the way your hands roamed Yeji’s body, the way it felt hearing every noise she made, the expression she made when you bit the bullet and ground against her thigh.

Eventually, though, her hands found the waistband of your leggings.

“Tell me if you change your mind,” Yeji said, very seriously. “No matter when, or what I’m doing. This is…this is fast.”

Not really, you wanted to argue. Not when it felt like the last six months had basically been foreplay between the two of you.

Still, Yeji’s seriousness gave you pause.

“Same goes for you,” you told her. “If you really do want to stop and talk first, we can. I don’t want to just…”

You trailed off, as Yeji’s gaze dragged along your body. You couldn’t imagine what she saw, as you lay under her, but whatever it was made her visibly swallow.

“…Let’s save the talking for later,” she decided, fingers hooking under your waistband. She pulled it down, just a few inches, just enough to expose the lacy edge of your underwear. “Fuck. Maybe talking’s overrated, actually.”

You wanted to laugh. You probably would have, if it weren’t for the distraction of Yeji lifting your hips up, removing your leggings slowly and discarding them to the side with barely a second thought.

She kept hold of your leg, lifting it up just slightly above the floor, and began to press a trail of kisses from your knee upwards. You let your head slump backwards against the floor, eyes closing, breath catching with every other kiss, trying so hard to remain patient as she got agonisingly close to where you needed her most.

Infuriatingly, she got as close as the top of your thighs before diverting away, planting a kiss in the dip of your hipbone. You whined, hands itching to grab her by the head and nudge her back to where she should be. Your head lolled to one side, and it was only when Yeji pushed your underwear to one side that your eyes opened.

To discover the reflection of you and Yeji in that full-length mirror.

You made quite the sight, the pair of you. You couldn’t help but stare, captivated, as Yeji ducked her head, and–

“Fuck, Yeji,” you cried out, torn between closing your eyes and keeping them open and fixed on the sight of Yeji between your legs. You felt yourself clench around her, in part due to that visual of a fully-clothed Yeji, kneeling before your very naked body, face buried between your thighs.

You rocked your hips against your mouth, and a sick little thrill rushed through you when you realised you could watch the way your body moved, the rhythm of it. You could see Yeji’s grip tightening around your thighs just as clearly as you could feel it.

You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice Yeji glance up at you, not until you saw her in the mirror, the way her eyes followed where you were looking, and the way her reflection met your eyes.

You snapped your head back to look upwards, towards the ceiling, but it was too late.

“Are you…staring at yourself?” Yeji asked, pulling away from where she was doing unspeakably wonderful things with her tongue.

“No,” you replied, too quickly, too panicked.

“You are,” she said, vaguely accusing, unable to hide her smirk.

“I’m not, not like…I’m just trying to wrap my brain around this actually happening,” you explained, tripping over your words a little. “And that’s, like…proof that it is.”

Yeji raised an eyebrow, but nodded once, understanding.

And then, her smirk deepened.

“Keep watching, then,” she said. “Let me put on a good show for you.”

Before you could react, Yeji hiked your thigh up over her shoulder, exposing you further, and she ran her tongue along your folds in one slow, long stripe. As she began to swirl the tip of it around your clit, you shuddered, gaze returning to your reflection.

This was almost overwhelming, as Yeji found the exact rhythm and pressure that made your toes curl. Your hand found her hair, carding your fingers through it, letting your fist ball in it as she continued to unravel you. Every breath that left your mouth was accompanied by a whimper, as the sensations began to build and build and build. There was a very strong chance that you were going to cum embarrassingly quickly.

“Yeji,” you breathed, gasping between syllables, and she met your stare through the mirror again. She didn’t look away once, maintaining eye contact, and you couldn’t help but squirm even more under her. “Please…fuck, I…Yeji…”

She held your stare, and you watched her reflection as she slowly, deliberately, slid her own hand into her sweatpants.

You choked, hips jerking up against her, and finally tore your gaze away from the mirror to look at her directly.

She was perfect from this angle, face flushed and slick, dark eyes moving to peek up at you through her lashes. You couldn’t quite see what her hand was doing from here, but you felt the vibrations of her moan against you, and you watched her eyes briefly flutter shut before opening again.

“You’re…fuck, you’re gorgeous,” you admitted, unfiltered thoughts just tumbling out from between your lips. “Perfect. Always…always thought so–Yeji, fuck, please…”

You were going to cum, you were absolutely going to cum.

Yeji seemed to pick up on this, and one particularly ungodly flick of her tongue had you tumbling over the edge. Your vision whited out, like you were almost literally seeing stars, the force of it almost punching your moan out.

It took you a good minute or so to recover, only doing so when Yeji’s increasingly loud whines broke through your orgasm-induced haze. You blinked, brain slowly returning from its temporary mush-like state, to find Yeji with her eyes shut, hand apparently working furiously.

You sat up, room still spinning slightly, and leaned forward to press your mouth to hers. She responded eagerly, sloppily, moaning loudly against your lips. You fumbled with the drawstring of her sweatpants, eager to slide your hand in alongside hers, when she suddenly cried out, her entire body shaking. She collapsed against you, panting, lost in her own climax. You smoothed a hand over her back, rubbing soothing circles into the exposed skin there, and – out of sheer impulse – pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, out of breath, burying her face into your neck.

You realised how much you liked her there, how much you liked her curled up against you.

She suddenly laughed, just a little, breathless.

“Wait ‘til they get a load of our fucking chemistry now.”

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