#all to put me in fucking DALY CITY???

[motherhenna]

Havin a bad day, y'all.

Like is this normal?? For jobs not to give you a specific location until after you've gone through the onboarding / hiring shit, only to place you over an hour away? Like a full bus and BART ride? I'm having to quit this job before I even start it because they never communicated to me that I'd be placed that far away from the Inner Richmond district of SF. Am I the asshole here or is this ridiculous

[jennycalendar]

Reversed Hermit for Thea

The Hermit Reversed (Isolation, loneliness, withdrawal)

Thea wanders in well after the rest of them. She's got lipstick on her collar and she's put her armor on in a hurry, doing her best to look like she doesn't want anyone to notice where she's been, but of course Idalia knows Thea well enough by now to know Thea likes showing off. Their shore days can be in a city the crew hasn't been to once, and Thea'll still wrap some pretty barmaid round her finger by the time the night's over, making all sorts of promises she knows she won't be there to keep tomorrow.

It's a talent that takes the average pirate a long fucking time to cultivate--and here's Thea, only a few months at sea and better at it than the rest of them combined. Idalia isn't jealous, though. She knows Thea better than most. "Long night?" she says.

"Like you wouldn't believe," says Thea. She makes a production of massaging her jaw.

"You know we're still in town for another night," says Idalia. "Closing that deal with Ryder and her crew. You don't have to hurry back to the ship every time."

Thea looks blankly at Idalia. "You're expecting me to stay on land? And do what?"

"I don't know," says Idalia loftily. "Cuddle with the lass of the week a bit? It can't be all that good if they all send you running out the door like your arse is on fire, after."

"Oh, fuck you," says Thea. She begins to take off her half-on armor. The lipstick marks are vigorous and just about everywhere.

"I'm just saying--"

"I know what you're just saying, Daly." Thea tosses the armor into her trunk. "You know it's not the end of the fucking world if I don't want to settle down. I'd think you of all people would get that."

"Oh, I get it," says Idalia. "I like it. But you don't."

"Fuck off," says Thea, a ragged laugh in her voice.

"You think I don't notice?" Idalia presses. "Whenever we're on land, whenever there's a bard, you'll always stop to listen for the love songs."

Thea stiffens. She laughs again. "Gods," she says, "is that it? That's your fucking ironclad proof that I want to settle down, get married, have a garden, raise some kids? Fucking waste of time, that."

"Not for some people," says Idalia lightly.

"For me it is. I've been on the road since I was twenty; I'm nearing one hundred and twenty now. I'd be a shit wife." Thea's smile is grim and taut, lips twisted. "I give those sweet land-locked girls the best of me for a night, and I leave. It's the highest fucking form of chivalry."

Idalia says, "They could write actual godsdamned bardic poems on all the things that are wrong with you, you know."

"Which is why I am not getting fucking married," says Thea. She slams the trunk shut.

[kirk-says-wah]

Could I possibly request for your Metallica stories some James/Dave physical hurt/comfort ? With Dave being the hurt one? Set in like 1988 or 1989. Also I'm sorry you are going through a breakup 😭

Or some James/Dave college AU stuff. Literally anything. I just love James/Dave 🫣

I’m so so fucking sorry this took me so long to answer. I know this has been sitting in my inbox since august I can only apologise 😭

Anyways I hope you enjoy, and you can also read it on ao3 here

They’re as close to home as they can get nowadays.

The Bay Area’s only about an hour away from Daly City so he hopes to see some familiar faces in the crowd. He wonders if anyone’ll will even recognise them anymore.

They’re on their last song when James spots him.

A few rows in, head of thick, red hair. Angry sneer he can place anywhere.

It’s a surprise because he thought he’d be back in LA. Neither band really resides in the bay anymore. So it leaves James a little bit startled at the sight of such a familiar face.

He plays as if he hasn’t noticed, even when he can feel eyes bore into his skin. It’s definitely too hot in here.

As soon as they’ve finished, he bids the audience a good night and tumbles off stage with the others.

Lars snakes a hand over his back, patting his shoulder, shouting something that gets lost in the noise of the crowd. James just nods anyway, not really trying to listen, more interested in finding out why Dave was here.

He hits the showers quickly, wiping all the sweat off, ignoring the others’ jeers as he steps out before any of them have even stepped in.

He doesn’t even bother to help out any of the roadies and instead goes out into the crowd in search of Dave.

He comes up empty after fifteen minutes of sifting through the crowd trying to go unnoticed, and guesses Dave probably would’ve left by now. Probably didn’t want to see him anyways.

James sighs, gives one last look before sliding out the mass of people in search of a bathroom.

He shuts himself in quickly, noticing only one of the stalls are occupied.

He’s pissing in one of the urinals when he first notices it, a pair of feet sticking out from under the stall door, like someone’s lying on the floor on the other side.

He frowns, zips himself up and raps his knuckles on the door.

“Hey, are you okay?”

There’s silence, then a quiet “go away.”

It’s snarky, mean. James pauses.

“Dave?”

Dave doesn’t answer, before there’s the sound of retching. James doesn’t wait to be let in, and instead reaches in through the gap in the door and pushes the lock.

As soon as he steps in and closes the door behind him, he finds Dave sat on his ass, head bent half in the toilet bowl.

“Hey,” James says softly, bends down a little to be at Dave’s eye level.

Dave glares at him, spits into the bowl.

“Fuck off, Hetfield.”

James just rolls his eyes, grabs a few tissues before moving forward a little, reaching out to wipe the vomit from Dave’s chin.

Dave continues to glare at him but doesn’t really put up much of a fight.

“Drank too much?”

Dave huffs a laugh, arm coming to settle around his middle.

“Something like that.”

James can’t help the guilt that starts to build in his chest. It’s not his fault, and it’s been years since that fateful day when they told Dave he was fired, but it still makes James feel slightly queasy.

Especially when Dave starts puking his guts up again.

James kneels next to him, holds his hair back.

“Get .. the fuck.. off of me,” Dave spits in between retching but James just ignores him, smooths his hand over his forehead, uses his other hand to rub over his back.

He starts to worry when Dave sits back, eyes closed, panting heavily, and it looks like all the blood’s been drained from his body. This doesn’t look like drinking too much.

James wipes at his chin again. Dave doesn’t open his eyes, chest stuttering.

“Do you need a hospital?”

“Fuck you.”

James takes that as a no, even though he kind of wishes Dave had said yes, mostly because he doesn’t know how to help.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Leave me alone.”

James huffs. “Not gonna happen.”

Dave squints an eye open at him, looks at him like he’s searching for sarcasm.

“You’re not joking?”

That takes James by surprise. He doesn’t answer at first, and instead wrestles a mostly limp Dave into his arms, letting the guitarist rest his head against his chest.

“I know I fucked up, and I know we left on bad terms, but I’m not gonna fucking leave you like this.”

Dave’s breath is hot against his chest. Arms crawl up to hold onto him.

“Okay.”

James hold him for a little bit longer then, just until Dave’s stopped being sick, and then he hikes him up, an arm around his middle.

“If you’re not going to the hospital, then you’re coming back with me.”

Dave doesn’t really say anything, just grunts as he’s jostled against James’s side.

James bundles Dave into the car and tells the driver to go straight back to the hotel. He knows the others won’t be there yet, it’s usually another hour of post show drinks before they even think about going to bed.

Dave closes his eyes, rests his head against James’s shoulder. It makes James’s heart clench at what he’s lost. When they sacked Dave, he didn’t just lose a bandmate, but also a lover, and he’s never missed that relationship as much as he does right now.

Because he could’ve had this; Dave being by his side. And it hurts.

It fucking hurts to see Dave having fallen so low when he knows he had a hand in it.

He can’t help himself when he reaches over, takes Dave’s hand in his own.

Dave startled a little bit, but doesn’t look at James. But he doesn’t pull his hand away either.

When they get to the hotel, James helps him into the room, depositing him on the bed before getting a glass of water.

“Here,” he says, handing the glass to him. Dave takes it gratefully, downing it in one.

James kneels then, takes off Dave’s shoes one by one, feeling Dave’s eyes watch him closely.

“You don’t have to do this,” Dave says after a moment, voice uncharacteristically small, fragile.

It makes James cringe slightly. He looks up at Dave, meets his eyes.

“I want to.”

Dave blinks at him, face incredulous.

“Don’t fucking mess with me, James. I know when I’m not wanted.”

James pauses, properly looks at Dave. He looks ill, all pale and blotchy in a sickly sort of way, and his face is turned down, obviously expecting James to send him packing. It’s not like he’s never done it before.

Instead James just shakes his head, lets his hand rest atop of Dave’s knee.

“I want to make sure you’re okay.” And I miss you. He doesn’t say it. He wishes he could.

Dave just sighs, lets the top half of his body settle back onto the bed as James continues to unlace his shoes, pulling them off.

He goes for Dave’s jeans then but Dave feebly bats him away.

“Trying to get me into bed or what?”

That comment makes James blush slightly, but he just shakes his head, goes back to undoing Dave’s pants.

“You’ll be more comfortable. And besides, I don’t want you bringing any of that crap from the bathroom floor in bed with you.”

Dave makes a noncommittal noise but lets James pull his jeans off without a word.

“You’re letting me stay in your bed?”

“Well, you can sleep on the floor if you want.”

Dave just stares at him like he’s grown another head. James shrugs.

He pulls the comforter back, ushering Dave under the covers. He grabs the other pillow and takes it to the chair in the corner.

“What are you doin?”

James gets comfortable, which is difficult when he’s bigger than the chair. It’s one of those crappy ones you’d find in high school and it does nothing to quell the ache in his bones.

“I’m gonna sleep here.”

Dave frowns, rolls over slightly to face him.

“Don’t be stupid. Just get in with me.”

James stops, twists a little to look at Dave. There’s no sarcasm in his tone, but James knows that if he takes him up on the offer, he’s reopening up a door he closed long ago.

Dave groans, rests his head back onto the pillow.

“Just get your fucking ass here before I change my mind.”

James hides his smile and quickly shimmies off his pants before climbing in next to Dave, their hands briefly touching as he settles in.

It’s awkward at first, James doesn’t really know what going on between them, but then Dave rolls over, presses backwards until his back collides with James’s chest.

James takes that as his cue to sling an arm around his waist, splaying his fingers over his stomach under his shirt. He buries his face in Dave’s hair, hears Dave breathing falter.

He wants to say something, wants to tell him he’s sorry, that he misses him. That he loves him.

He doesn’t. That’s all in the past and he can’t let himself get submerged back into all that emotion again. He can’t.

Even when Dave snuggles back into him with a sigh. Even when he leans down, kisses Dave’s cheek gently. Even when Dave smiles, closes his eyes.

He can’t let himself fall. Not again. It’s not fair to either of them.

But for now, he pulls Dave in closer, revels in the heat of him, and hides his face in his neck.

[nnothingnesss]

The Dark (Short Story)

Mani and Glam survive in a dystopian world where nobody know’s what happens in the dark.

I watched her paint. It made me feel wide awake in the middle of a long dream. It was nice. It's the first time I'd ever seen someone make real art before. I had read of painting from books about Salvador Dali but I'd never imagined I'd see it in person. I feel like a witness to some ancient skill from a dead civilization I'll have to testify against. She continues streaking the canvas with black acrylics banishing white from the piece forever. My imagination trails to a bustling museum full of people who came peacefully to revere someone like her.

Had anyone else seen her, she probably would've been taken to the local scavengers and never seen again. Watching her unleash a mad passion on that canvas makes me think she really doesn't care, that she'd leave a hole in between any pair of eyes that tried. And after she'd go right back to painting.

"You mean to tell me you can just shoot a handgun all day and come back here and make such delicate artwork? Like it's nothing?" I asked her

"Pretty much," she tells me.

"Here I was thinking I was crazy. I can't stop shaking,"

"You need to get used to it,"

"Not something I want to get used to."

I look back down at my hands and I've finally managed to calm down a little. Flashes of what happened earlier, the dark man, the forest, the sunsetting sky.

"Are you sure we're safe?" I begin to worry again.

"I promise. We've been here for almost six hours and nothing has happened right?"

"So you mean we can just stay here forever and we'll be fine?"

"Yeah, if you want to leave our stuff at the school and never see the others again, sure"

Worry. I'm a huge worrier. I worry constantly. I really can't stop it.

"I don't want to leave," I say. She stops to set down her brush. Her painting is more than halfway finished. Four more hours until sunrise.

"We talked about this, we'll leave once the sun starts coming up so we can see that thing if it tries to follow us, then we'll run back into the high school and grab the rest of our stuff and we'll head right back to the city."

"I know, god please, I'm just scared"

"If you ever freeze up like you did in that forest again and I'm not there, you'll die."

"I know,"

"If you do that in the school then I'll have to be the one to put you down. And I swear to god, Mani, if I have to be the one to put you down I will fucking kill you. This isn't your first rodeo, so don't go acting like a rookie."

"You're right. Sorry."

"It's okay. I know, that thing, it almost got to you. You don't have to talk about it with me just so you know."

"No it's fine, it's just..." a shiver travels down my spine “I don’t want to think about what that thing would do to us.”

Glam doesn't say anything, instead she picks her brush up and dips it in paint.

"I can't shake it.”

3 Hours Later

I can see the first orange ray peaking through the blinds. It lights up the dark and cold room, overcast with shadows and covered furniture. I can begin making out the features of Glam’s face as she sleeps on the hard floor. She found me after I ran away from..well..we can talk about that later.

I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with running. Our jobs were pretty much that at any given moment. Any one you met was running from something. Whether it be from the Dark or their past, it wasn’t hard to tell. We all have seen it, with our own eyes. I’m just happy all the innocent people who died in the first few nights never had to.

“Hey, Glam, the sun is up,”

Glam darts awake, startled and then relaxes. Reflex.

“God, I’m tired of these awful nightmares,”

“I know. Come on, let’s go,”

“Just give me a minute will you?”

We stand up from the corner of the room. We managed to run into this estate last minute, right before the sun began going down. I look down the room to find a way carefully through tarp covered furniture. Whoever lived here must’ve been incredibly rich. They must’ve also thought they’d be coming back. God were they wrong.

“I swear the God’s hate us,” I sigh.

I place a couple of rationed food on the table while Glam took her few minutes. A couple cans of peaches, homemade beef jerky, and water. That’s it. I open the yellow can of peaches with a small combat knife. I got it off a dead soldier on the way into the forest. This was my first time ever using it.

After I pour the peaches into a partially cleaned bowl, I begin to pick out debris and any occasional insect that might’ve found it’s way into the can. One of them had a bullet hole on the side of it. The kitchen was filled with them.

I’m not sure why life turned out like this. Why the Dark had to become violent. All I know is now, any humans left out there will kill you quicker than any Dark could if they know you’ve been outside all night. Glam would do it. And so would I.

“Mani,”

Last night, I was this fucking close. I was so close to getting caught by the Dark. The sky was mostly purple and I never ever look behind me when I’m running. But nobody know’s what the fuck happens in the dark.

“Mani,”

I looked behind me, to the opposite side of the sun, the darkness in all of the trees, there was no light. The thing had fucking horns for god’s sake, and it was moving towards me so fast I could see it shaking the trees. I could feel it was hungry. If any of them get close to you I am so sorry you have to die that painful and miserable death.

“Alright, Mani your just sitting there with your damn hand in the peach bowl, wake up”

Glam pulls my hand out of the bowl.

“Oh you’re up, feeling better?” she asks me.

“I’m feeling ready. Let’s just get this shit over with.”

“Yeah. I’m with you there,”

The school wasn’t far just a 20 minute walk. In broad daylight we were completely safe from those hideous creatures. Unfortunately it makes other survivors the little tree mongers.

I’ve ran into people who kidnap women and do the most terrible things. Their smiles leave the most insidious feeling behind in their words and conversation.

And more often then not, these interactions were unavoidable. If it weren’t for squatters and cargo movers keeping our sensitive karma in check, I wouldn’t be making money and they wouldn’t be jumping like kids.

We don’t need to get too explicit. Sometimes discernment is key. Intuit into everyone around us and if you smell smoke? Run. In these terrible times it was all about survival. Not who’s got cooler stories in the dark.

“You got everything?” Glam asks.

“Yeah, come on.” I throw my bag over my back and walk behind Glam through the front door.

[ilikemesometaetaes]

Don’t Hold Your Breath ~ jjk

Chapter Six (M)

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: As the CEO of an international government security company, you have the world at your fingertips. Living life lavishly and extravagantly has become the norm. Behind closed doors, however, you host a past that renders you lonely and, quite frankly, miserable. It’s only a matter of time before your past comes back to bite you right in the ass.

•••> Pairing(s): Jungkook/Reader, Taehyung/Reader (slight)

•••> Inspo: This fic is inspired by the song “SAVAGE ANTHEM” by PARTYNEXTDOOR. Thank you to @dariangarcia​​, @btssmutgalore​, and @junghoseokit​​ for supporting my work. To my mamas, Kaitlin, Adora, Lauren, Lanie, Lu, and Sher.

•••> Word Count: 7.81k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: Jungkook x Reader | Tattooed!Jungkook | angst | smut | ceo!au | rockstar!au | CEO!Reader | Rockstar!Jungkook | AU!BTS | Exes to Lovers

•••> Warnings: angst, dirty talk, sexual teasing, heartbreak, cursing, pining, depression, breakup, emotional instability, arguing | Warnings are written specifically to chapter.

Copyright © 2021 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Taglist: @dariangarcia​​​ @apurpledheart​​​ @itsgottabeyoo-ngs​​​ @hytibm​​ @namjinsbaby​​ @ggukkieland​​ @fan-ati--c​​

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, say so in a comment to this chapter or the DHYB Main Page, or send me an ask!

NAVIGATION: Chapter Five (M) <- | -> Chapter Seven (M) -> Mini-Masterlist -> Series Masterlist

•••> Official Playlist 

~#~

“I put the dirt into dirtbag. Still got your jacket in my bag.”

THEN.

“Kookie!” You screamed in between breaths, eyes watering at the struggle. “Stop! Please!”

“No way!” His laugh was buried in your hair as he pressed his face against the back of your head. “Apologize!”

“For what?” You wheezed, attempting to get away from the curling fingers that tickled your ribs relentlessly. His long legs were wrapped around your body, restricting your movement and effectively taking away almost any opportunity to escape.

“For calling me a singing demon!” His hands continued their assault, sending you into another laughing fit. You fought helplessly against his tattooed arms.

You wanted to bite back, but the lack of air in your lungs prevented you from doing so. Your heart beat wildly, adrenaline spiking and arms flailing against his grip. Desperation flooding your mind, you wrapped your hand around the one that caged your neck and dug your nails into his flesh in hopes that the pain would get him to weaken his hold.

Jungkook only laughed again and hummed teasingly. “Oh, just like that. Harder, baby.”

Squirming didn’t help much, but when you shifted your hips and felt something poking into your spine, you huffed with defeat on the horizon. His obvious boner signified that he liked your struggle- a clear indicator that there was no way he was letting you go any time soon.

Unless…

With another shift of your hips to grind your ass upwards on him, seating his dick between your clothed ass cheeks, you let the situation take over your body with your brain rewiring into a horny mindset in order to distract him.

“Jungkook,” You whispered through a gasp, hoping the change of pace would throw him off. It was a stunt you always pulled; whether it be during an argument or sex, changing the pace would unfocus your boyfriend’s attention and give you the upper hand.

Sure enough, Jungkook’s embrace around you loosened so that he could give himself more room to slide his manhood against you.

“Oh, baby...” He grunted into your ear with a sliver of surprise tainting his lust.

Slowly, so as to not trigger him, you slid one hand down his stomach and slid two fingers below the waistband of his shorts. With your body on top of him, you couldn’t go further inward, so you settled on harshly scraping your nails across his hip while you dug your other hand harder into his forearm.

“Please.” You said with more air in your lungs. Finally, you could breathe.

“Are you begging for me to fuck you?” His dick twitched against you, desperate to bury itself between your thighs. “Or are you pleading for mercy? Tell me, Y/N,”

Jungkook flipped the two of you over so that your chest pressed into the bed and his entire body pinned you to the mattress with a swift cant of his hips. “Which one is it?”

For a moment, you rolled your eyes and struggled to look at him from your compromised position. It wasn’t until your eyes caught sight of the numbers on the clock sitting on the nightstand that you began struggling with a new burst of concern in your mind.

“Jungkook!” You wheezed. “The time!”

“Answer my question, Y/N. I can stay here all night. The stage can wait.”

“But you’ll be late!” Your voice increased in volume.

“Only if you continue avoiding my question…” Jungkook trailed off for a moment before he leaned down to murmur softly in your ear. “Well, I’ll only be late if you refuse to let go of your pride to ask for mercy and beg for my cock instead. I will rearrange your guts if that is what you’re asking for.”

You huffed in frustration, the desire to fuck your boyfriend dissipating with his words. You knew that Jimin would be through the roof by now, searching high and low for the lead singer of BTS to dress him properly.

“Mercy.” You finally grumbled in defeat, not wanting to delay him any longer.

Almost disappointedly, Jungkook grunted as he removed his weight from on top of you. “Fine.”

“I’ll go turn on the car.” You got up and swiped the keys off of your dresser, thankful that you were still dressed in your internship clothes.

“You go do that.” Jungkook chuckled whilst sliding his shorts off of his body to reveal a very obvious boner tenting his boxers that you pretended to be oblivious of. “You’re a master at turning me on so I trust you with that.”

“Ew.” You grimaced at the poorly-delivered joke. “That was terrible.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was clever.” Jungkook chided.

“Not at all.” You quipped. After you watched him slide a pair of jeans up his muscular legs, you turned to leave. You just needed to make sure he got dressed. “I’ll be in the car.”

~#~

Jimin’s knowledge of art always mystified you. His prowess wasn’t the type of intelligence like knowing how Picasso depicted the loss of innocence in Guernica or how the melting clocks of Dali introduced surrealism to the world of art- no, that was Taehyung’s strong-suit.

Jimin knew how to create his own version of art that left viewers wistful and in absolute awe by making a stage the vessel of his masterpieces.

As you sat on the balcony, overlooking the crowd while they all thrashed and jumped to the beat of Hoseok’s bass drum and the duo of guitars that was Namjoon and Jungkook, you just had to sit back in your chair and stare at the composition that was Jimin’s show.

Flashes of blue and red lights swept across the crowd, printing themselves temporarily into the crowd’s retinas so that when the opposite color came back, a light hue of purple was brought into the experience for a fleeting moment. Short puffs of fire whenever Namjoon strummed a power chord warmed your face, even from the distance in which you sat from the stage, and lasers shot through the crowd every time Yoongi penetrated the sounds of his group with the keys of his keyboard.

Graphics on the jumbotron behind the band, which were also of Jimin’s creation, outlined each member with curls of dark, tentacle-like wisps that matched the purple hue of the crowd with its raven color.

The last song of the setlist, Blue and Grey, was one you were all too familiar with. The lights faded to a soft blue for a moment as Taehyung began the first strong notes with his bass and the crowd in the venue whooped and hollered in excitement- Blue and Grey was BTS’ most popular song. A year and a half into their journey of being a band and they already had a crowd favorite.

As Taehyung continued his bass line with his guitar and tattooed strumming arm put on display by Jimin’s spotlight, Jungkook leaned into the mic and began strumming his own guitar.

“Where is my angel?”

You sighed and leaned forward in your seat, loving the way Jungkook’s voice carried throughout the performance hall.

Taehyung accompanied Jungkook with the intro until Hoseok joined in to transition into the first verse with his high hat and snare drum.

Once the chorus hit, you couldn’t help but stand from your seat as you began to feel the power of BTS’ music rocking the venue.

“I just wanna be happier. To melt the cold me.”

Jungkook’s neck veins bulged from his skin as he belted out the notes, sweat dribbling down his temples from exertion. Even as he huffed for breath in between his lines, the image of him dressed in all black and owning the stage while ripping his fingers through his guitar strings was one you could never get tired of.

The songs were full of angst- the dark, unspoken feelings that not many people talked about- and you loved how you heard them from Jungkook through music. If only he were this honest when it was just the two of you.

“Don’t say it’s okay, ‘cause it’s not okay.” Jungkook closed up his lines with a heartbreaking tone that every fan in the crowd sang along with as Namjoon prepared to sing his part. For a brief moment, your boyfriend met your eyes across the large venue.

“Please don’t leave me alone. It hurts too much.”

~#~

NOW.

You walked into your building, grateful for the warm protection it offered against the freezing winter of New York City.

Noticing the lack of staff around, being that there was only the elevator operator and the receptionist sitting behind the marble counter, you glanced at your watch to check just how long you spent working.

20:17, your watch read. You had been working in front of computer screens and reading contracts for almost 9 hours.

“Greetings, ma’am!” The receptionist stood from his chair. “May I be of any service to you this evening?”

You shook your head to the man and continued on your path to the elevator where the other employee in the lobby waited to take you up. “None needed. I’ll be leaving momentarily.”

“Very well. Please let me know if you need anything.” He sat back down and turned his gaze to the computer in front of him.

The sound of your pumps echoed against the vast but empty room until you stopped in front of the elevator where the woman already had the doors opening in preparation.

“Good evening, ma’am.” She said lowly.

“ ‘Evening.” You responded, stepping inside without another word. The woman kept the conversation at that, which you appreciated, so you smiled at her in gratitude after you placed your key in the penthouse slot. She returned your smile with her own before the doors closed to encase you in silence.

The ride up was quiet, warranting you to pull out your phone so that you could read over your conversation with Taehyung again.

Why am I wearing think socks? I hate thick socks.

Read at 8:01 pm

Trust me. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

Is that so? Why?

Read 8:03 pm

Just wear the damn socks, Y/N.

Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?

Read 8:04 pm

Negative, captain

Tf

Why am I a captain now

Read 8:04 pm

Cuz I said so. Now stop talking or you’ll make me give away my position

Alright.

Read 8:05 pm

I said stop talking

…?

Read 8:05 pm

Fucking hell.

You let a small giggle slip past your lips at how normal the text conversation was. It was as if you never stopped talking to him, slipping into the normalcy of having Taehyung back in your life as quickly as it had been to cut him out of it. You zoned out for a moment in thought.

The strange sensation of friendship didn’t take any getting used to as it settled itself back into your bones and filled your heart with warmth like it never left- like the ice covering the beating organ was only temporary. As you stood alone, staring shallowly at the increasing floor numbers, you smiled in content.

The elevator slowed as the cabin came close to reaching the top floor, bringing you back to your senses. Sliding your phone back into the pocket of your slacks, you looked up once the elevator doors opened, only to drop your briefcase to the floor loudly.

Jungkook sat against the wall beside your door with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. At the sound of your clumsiness clattering on the ground, his gaze snapped to you as he scrambled to stand up.

Anger flooded you immediately. You wanted to backhand him and rip his hair out. You wanted to scream and cry and lose your shit. However much you wanted to hurt him, though, you could not afford catching an assault charge on the man who defaced you once before.

There was a break of silence as you stood staring at him, unsure of how to handle the punch in your mood while the memories were forced to surface in your mind.

“Y/N…” Jungkook trailed, breaking the tangible barrier of tension. He took a step forward whilst obviously hesitating. “I-”

Instead of screaming at him, you went for the more sophisticated and controlled route to keep your lividity at bay whilst stopping his sentence in its tracks.

“How did you get up here?” It was a sensible question to ask. You just wanted to prevent him from deepening the conversation.

“I pulled some strings.” He murmured, looking down almost shyly, before piping up with more confidence. “But listen, I-”

“Save it.” You cut him off again, unable to control your facade much longer. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

His anxious expression turned worried- desperate. You didn’t miss the way his eyes became more expressive than you’ve ever seen them. “Please, Y/N.”

“Please what, Jungkook?”

“Please just give me a moment to speak.”

For a beat, you pondered his request. Taehyung’s words weighed heavily on your mind. We needed to talk.

Fuck talking. You have been done talking for ages.

“Wow.” You scoffed coldly, ice barriers slamming back into place over your heart. Taehyung had been able to melt them away, but Jungkook put them right back with fierce determination to completely ruin you. “You just want to take everything from me, huh?”

“Y/N, what-“ He blinked cluelessly, caught off-guard by your sarcasm.

“I gave you years to speak, Jungkook. I gave you everything.” You stepped forward, the boiling rage overtaking your body, and came to a stop in front of him with the fury of a charging bull. You wanted him to feel small and vulnerable.

“What else could I possibly give you? I have nothing left.” He took everything. The veins in your body were emptied and exhausted of every single ounce of energy to fight for someone.

You were unaware of the way Jungkook’s fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his palms.

You failed to notice how much he trembled under your gaze, physically struggling to protect his butterfly from your wrath.

Your vicious swings at the dainty being of hope were nothing compared to what he, himself, had done to it. Jungkook found it ironic that you gave him an aspect that he was just barely strong enough to protect yet took the darker things from inside him and destroyed them as if they were mere placeholders- as if you were his puppeteer.

You were too stressed to realize the toll it took on Jungkook to keep his act together. He needed to keep the door open long enough to be your friend. Anything to prevent losing you. Earlier, his demons swooped in and overtook him, suffocating him to silence once again, but for the first time, they ebbed away at the mere thought of you.

As he walked down the street with his stage persona flowing, the simple thought of your name empowered his butterfly to beat its wings so fiercely that it blew away all of the impending smoke and dark tentacles of smog that threatened to overtake his vision.

Once he thought of you, he thought of everything.

Your anger was justified. He understood that now. Watching you huff breath after breath following your question was somehow relieving- you still cared enough to be pissed off. Jungkook forced himself to look on the bright side of the encounter with you; he made himself see that you were still passionate about the past. You were passionately upset and he couldn’t be happier.

He had seen you with Taehyung. He saw the way you were happy again. Jungkook wanted a part of that because he was too selfish to back off and stay dormant in your life- too determined to make you silence his demons.

Even if it was just as a friend. He could deal with that.

“You’re right.” Jungkook stated.

You paused in your tracks at the concession. Anger no longer blazing- staying right where it was- you quirked an eyebrow at him. Any time the two of you fought, he would never come even close to alluding that you were right.

“You’re right and I’m sorry, Y/N.”

An apology.

Words always seemed minimal to you. Unless to communicate information, you found that words filled with feeling didn’t mean much from someone you didn’t know.

After Jungkook, anyone that told you they loved you was promptly deemed a liar. Kate worked hard to make sure you were aware of the fact that she would actually take a bullet for you because of how much she loved you. She spent moment after moment proving to you that she cared deeply even though she didn’t have to put up with you.

Your parents, despite not talking to you much, expressed their love and gratitude whenever you sent them money. You knew they were hard workers like you and didn’t have time to worry about trivial things like words. Instead of taking the easy way out by simply telling you that they loved you, they showed you.

But Jungkook, who claimed to love you in the way that a lover would- the only person to actually do so- lied.

You could never trust the words in that way again.

Still, you couldn’t help but be taken by surprise.

“I’m right? Really?”

“Y/N, you’ve been right since the beginning. I took and took and just stopped giving back. I understand that you’re angry and I want to fix it so that you don’t hate me anymore. I want to make it right.”

You were silent. You hadn’t expected him to admit his fault so easily. Jungkook changing the pace of your conversation ruined your momentum, sending you stumbling and scrambling for thoughts.

Jungkook sighed for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line as he let his eyes drop to the floor in your silence. He wasn’t about to lose the opportunity to elaborate further, though.

“Look, I know I fucked up. Bad. I know you can’t possibly forgive me right now, but I want you to know that I’m sorry for the things I’ve done to you.”

Your automatic reaction to being emotionally pushed came back, closing you down and disguising you as a cold woman.

“What the fuck do you know? What the fuck do you know about how badly you fucked up? I don’t need your lame-ass apology, Jungkook. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Stop pretending that you do. Sure, we fucked a little and kissed a few times, but that’s all that it was.” You grit out the last few words, lying through your teeth. “Now please move. You’re blocking the door.”

Shockingly, Jungkook obeyed. He stepped aside and clasped his hands behind his back without another word, allowing you to walk to your door and open it.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

No matter how many times you repeated the words in your head, commanding yourself to abide by the mantra as if it were law, the emotions in your head managed to break through and force your head to turn back after stepping through the doorway.

Jungkook stood as still as a statue, staring at you with a blank expression that was almost eerie. You glanced down quickly, unable to maintain the eye contact, and noticed that his knuckles were clenched.

It was almost as if he was a completely different person because of the fact that his appearance was drastically different from that of BTS Jungkook. The man that stood in front of you was no rockstar. He was not an idol nor a role model that millions looked up to.

He was a scared boy. The fear that riddled his eyes was extremely difficult to miss and it made him seem almost small whilst standing in the small junction between the elevator and your penthouse.

You shut the door in his face impulsively, hoping that you wouldn’t have to see him again.

Backing away from the door slightly, you waited until you heard the elevator signal that its doors were closing before going to look through the peephole. You finally released your breath and slumped against the door when you saw that he had left.

Without his presence putting you on edge and keeping you on your toes, you could finally reflect on the conversation that just transpired.

He admitted his wrongdoings and apologized for them. He showed you his belly and became vulnerable. He admitted defeat.

Jungkook wasn’t an apologetic person in the slightest; he wasn’t a forgiving one either. In all the years that you had known him, he was headstrong and stubborn- if you looked past the part where he closed himself off and cheated, of course.

This Jungkook, the one you had just spoken to, was not the one you remember. Maybe you were right. Maybe you didn’t know him anymore.

Your phone vibrating in your pocket distracted you from pondering any further over the epiphany, prompting you to pull it out and fumble with it to get away from the confusing subject. You were thankful for the distraction.

Kim Taehyung (BTS)

I’ll be out front in 15 mins

Cursing internally, you left the idea of Jungkook behind you and rushed to change into clothes better suited for the cold weather.

It was a given that a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips when you slid thick tube socks over your ankles. You hadn’t actually worn tube socks in ages because they didn’t exactly go with your usual professional style of suits and heels.

You zipped your coat up about three-fourths of the way before turning to look at yourself in your mirror with a huff.

Suddenly, you were bombarded with a memory as it flashed before your eyes.

“You know you look good, babe.”

You giggled as Jungkook came up behind you to look at you in the reflection, setting his chin on your shoulder while he used his tongue to toy with the hoop pierced into his lip.

“Thanks, Kook. Just want to look my best is all.” You met his eyes in your bedroom mirror, smiling softly.

“Well, you look beautiful.”

You were left staring at the empty space where his face was, unsure of how to react as you stumbled back from the intrusion. Another meaningless scene came barging into your senses before you could process the first.

“Wow…” You trailed off as you looked at the angry red spot on Jungkook’s chest. A brand new tattoo, the size of your hand, raised out of his skin and shined under the luminescent light of the tattoo parlor. With the tattoo artist cleaning up his station behind the two of you, you were left to admire his beauty in his reflection.

Jungkook stood shirtless in front of the full-length mirror as he smiled brightly at the last tattoo to complete his set. Your eyes drank in the way each exhibit of inked art contrasted with his smooth, caramel expanse of skin while you stood behind him.

The new piece, which was almost large enough to touch the Chinese characters stamped onto the side of his neck and the back of his ear, was a depiction of an angel falling from the heavens. The detail in the blackening feathers attached to the angel’s back was mesmerizing, drawing all of the attention from the rest of the tattoos covering Jungkook’s chest.

“Is there any special meaning behind it?” You asked, knowing that your boyfriend had a few meaningless tattoos that were part of his ‘woke-up-and-it-was-there’ collection.

For a moment, Jungkook stayed silent as he studied the work of art in the mirror. It wasn’t until you called his name again that he answered your question while meeting your gaze in the reflection.

“Nah. It just looked really cool to me.”

You pressed your hand to your forehead and looked away from your mirror, wondering why- now, of all times- you just had to remember those small memories.

You didn’t miss him- you know you didn’t. But something within you twisted at the thought of being with him- the memory of how it felt to be his.

The disconnect between the feelings of your heart and the thoughts of your mind, ever so obvious, shifted. His apology was unexpected, to say the least, but it was also surprisingly heartfelt and pulling on your need to forgive.

Saved by the bell, your landline phone began to ring.

You rushed to the bedside table and grabbed the phone from its dock, pulling it to your ear.

“Ms. Y/L/N? It’s the front desk. Mr. Kim Taehyung is here and waiting for you.”

“Got it. Thank you. I’ll be down in a moment.” You hung up the phone and grabbed your wallet and keys before shuffling over to your desk to grab your briefcase on instinct.

“Wait,” you spoke aloud, laughing at yourself and withdrawing your reach. “I don’t need that.”

As you opened the door to your penthouse, the sound of something lightly hitting your door had you looking down.

A small, navy blue bag, the size of your palm, swung from the doorknob and hit lightly against the wood from the momentum of you opening your door. Confused, you unhooked the loop from the doorknob and looked inside the bag to find a familiar-looking box inside.

Gingerly, you pulled it out and opened it. In the way of the box’s contents was a folded piece of notebook paper with your name scrawled across the top in Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

You held your breath after reading the note and looked down at the small charm.

Since you gave me yours, I’ll give you mine. -jk

In the fabric of the satin display lay the familiar gold chain that Jungkook gifted you those few years ago, but, instead of the small J that you were so familiar with, lay your own initial.

You knew Jungkook’s way with words well enough to know that the small note connected his intentions to the chain. You were instantly pulled back to the night that he gifted the necklace to you in the first place.

“It’s beautiful. Happy one-year, babe.” You whispered onto his lips with a smile.

After you sat back into your seat, Jungkook walked to your side of the table to put the chain around your neck. “I obviously have the describe how much this necklace means so that you never take it off.”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t even dream of taking it off, Kook.”

“I still need to explain. It was like a message from heaven when I saw them in the jewelry store.” He pouted, returning to his seat. “So the idea with these is that we’re wearing parts of each other. You’re wearing the part of me that belongs to you and I’m wearing the part of you that belongs to me.”

Jungkook continued as he raised his glass. “So even though you think this necklace is yours because it’s your letter, it’s actually mine.”

You cocked your head in confusion, struggling to understand the concept. “What are you talking about?”

“It sounded so much better in my head, I swear.”

You understood the idea now.

Push off the emotions. Don’t think about them.

You were hellbent on ignoring the weakness, knowing full well what path you would go down if you let them get to you.

Instead, you made your way down to the lobby with the bag gripped tightly in your mitten-clad hands, heading to the desk with determination furrowing your brow. Even as Taehyung stood from the small sofa in the lobby upon seeing you, you did not spare him a glance.

Forcefully, you thrusted the bag into the receptionists’ face, internally wincing at your rude gesture.

“Please put this in the lost and found. I have no idea where it came from.”

The receptionist did well at hiding his expression, however, you could still see a sense of somber recognition behind his eyes. You decided not to press him seeing as you want to avoid the topic of Jungkook like the plague.

“Understood, ma’am.” He took the bag from your grasp before you had the chance to rethink addressing his slip of emotion, placing it in a drawer by his knee. He looked back up and gestured to Taehyung after locking the drawer. “Mr. Kim is here for you.”

You sighed in a mild sense of accomplishment, forcing yourself to shut out the regret and sadness for giving away a formerly precious memory, before turning to face Taehyung with a small smile to mask your inner turmoil. Your smile faltered when you noticed that Taehyung mirrored the same expression on his face that the receptionist wore.

“What?” You asked, walking to him.

“I just-” He looked down for a moment, scowling, and you noticed he had placed his small barbell back into his eyebrow. “-nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me anything?” The two of you had walked to the door, stopping before going out into the cold so that you could finish your conversation.

“Like I said before, it’s not my place to say or judge.”

Taehyung opened the door to an icy gust of wind before you could protest, chilling you into a mind-numbing stupor as you whispered, “Holy fucking shit.”

“Good god, it is freezing.” Taehyung mumbled, linking an arm around your body and ushering you towards his SUV across the sidewalk.

Once sat inside the warmth of the cabin, you shivered in satisfaction at the heat gracing your body.

“Please tell me we’re not going to be outside for whatever we’re doing.” You pleaded to him. The light from the city was filtered by the darkened car windows, however, you could still see Taehyung’s shoulders moving up and down when he chuckled.

“Unfortunately, we are, but fortunately, I brought some heat packs for us.”

You whined in protest, looking up to the GPS screen in front of the driver to see if you could identify where the two of you were going. Without a route plotted, you were left even more curious.

About twenty minutes of small talk and a brief roast session targeting Hoseok later, you sat in front of the ice skating rink at the Rockefeller Center.

“We’re ice skating?” You asked, suddenly in shock. You hadn’t been ice skating since-

No. Stop it. Your mind warred with itself as it suppressed the memory threatening to spill over into your eyes.

“You’re quite the detective.” Taehyung’s sentence was drenched in sarcasm, functioning as the perfect distraction, and prompted you to lightly shove him with a giggle as you exited the vehicle.

“I thought I was a captain.” You pouted against the cold, pulling your hat down on your head even further in hopes of retaining your body heat and warmth from the van.

“You are.” Taehyung laughed again. “Captain Detective.”

You only rolled your eyes at his playfulness before you turned to face the rink from the sidewalk. A person passing behind you and bumping into your back lightly had you cursing New York City’s busy and bustling population.

Seeing all of the people on the rink, you instantly remembered that you did not inform Jay of your whereabouts.

“Do we have security?” Worry riddled your brain as you turned to look at him with your eyes widening in a panic. You became hyperaware of all of the possible outcomes to Taehyung being identified in such a crowded place.

Taehyung sighed as he walked you up to the ticket booth. “We don’t. I just want to have a normal and plain but fun time with my friend- without someone glaring at me like they don’t want to be here while they breathe down my neck.”

Despite understanding his statement, you couldn’t help the automatic stress to being in public without any form of protection.

“Taehyung,” You warned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Y/N,” He mocked your tone childishly before leveling it to his regular voice. “Relax, weirdo. We’re here to have fun and people are too busy having their own fun to notice us.”

“I doubt that.”

It wasn’t until you got your rental skates tightly secured onto your feet and began walking toward the ice that Taehyung mentioned a vital detail that he definitely should have mentioned prior to arriving at the center.

“You what?” You were baffled to say the least.

“I can’t skate.” He sheepishly brought his hand to the back of his head and adjusted his trapper hat under your scrutiny.

“Then why did we come?” You were almost yelling at that point.

“Because Brian told me that you liked ice skating!” Taehyung gripped at your fingers tightly, anxiety getting the best of him.

Fucking hell, Brian.

“Did he?” Your laugh was almost hysterical because of how wrong he was. You were becoming increasingly hesitant about giving your personal assistant a raise now.

Still, it was worth the effort. Brian was just trying to help the world’s most popular bassist when he came to him in need of information. It was a decent attempt.

“Yeah,” Taehyung huffed. “He did.”

“Well, Tae, I’ll have you know,” You moved towards the ice rink with determination. “I haven’t been ice skating in ages and I hardly like it. Hopefully, I still have muscle memory.”

“Oh god.” Taehyung groaned, tipping his head back as the feeling of imminent and utter chaos ensued. “Fucking hell, Brian.”

As soon as you stepped on the ice, you realized that you were still perfectly coordinated enough to complete the task.

Taehyung, on the other hand, clung to the walls like the world was attempting to swallow him into the ground. Dutifully, you stood next to him with a cautious hand on his back in the case that he went tumbling.

The sight was one to behold.

Kim Taehyung, hard core rockstar- the physical definition of a stereotypical ‘bad boy’- with tattoos littering his skin and a glistening eyebrow piercing that was winking at you from under his gray trapper, stood hunched over and afraid as he moved baby step-by-baby step to proceed further around the rink. You couldn’t help but giggle as the man who possessed the prowess of an elegant panther on stage adopted the likes of a stumbling newborn giraffe within the span of five minutes.

You were still concerned for him despite how funny it was. Tentatively, you reached your hand to grip his shoulder and urged him to look at you.

“Tae, are you okay? We can do something else if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay.” He wheezed in effort. “I got this.”

Making a show out of how brave he was, Taehyung stood up straight on shaky legs and began progressing forward by attempting to walk on the ice.

“I can show you how t-” Taehyung cut off your offer before you could finish it.

“I’ve been shown countless times how to skate and the best I can do is walk and maybe slide forward a little. I’m a lost cause, Y/N.” Even though he seemed upset, Taehyung couldn’t help but crack a smile at how clumsy he was.

You smiled pitifully at your clumsy friend before you stepped in front of him. “Here, hold onto my shoulders and we’ll slide forward together.”

All Taehyung could do was begrudgingly agree, hating the idea of having to lean on you for support but wanting to remain close to you for the majority of the night. Once he placed his hands tightly on your shoulders, you moved.

At first, you skated slowly so that Taehyung could adjust to the feeling of being pulled forward. Once he got the hang of keeping his legs locked so that you could move around easier, you skated at a normal speed.

After about ten minutes of joking around and catching Taehyung’s slipping form a handful of times, your mind was left free and without defense.

You hadn’t realized how vulnerable you were because of it.

“Y/N, slow down! I can’t go that fast!”

Your breathing came to a halt at the voice that echoed in your ears.

“Here, hold my hand and we’ll skate together.”

Panicking, you rushed your mind to shut it out. No. Stop.

Unknowingly, the chaos in your mind and the desperate need to get away from the memories had you gradually increasing your own speed to subconsciously escape your thoughts.

Taehyung’s nervous laugh and call of your name in warning fell on deaf ears while you furrowed your eyebrows in concentration.

“See? It’s easy. Just step and lean. Step- and lean.” His hand clutched yours as if he was trying to squeeze all of the blood from your fingers but you only squeezed back in reassurance.

“Don’t let me fall, please.”

Taehyung’s skate crashing into the back of yours served as the perfect distraction, yet it only lasted for a split second as the two fo you went tumbling to the ice in a hauntingly familiar manner.

In the process of falling, Taehyung had managed to wrap his arms around your waist and twist his body so that he could take most of the impact from the ice. Landing on top of him with an ‘oof’ reminded you of the last time you went ice skating.

Even with your face mere centimeters from your friend’s, all you saw was him.

Taehyung’s small puffs of air against your lips were an indicator of how close you were to kissing him. Truly, you could kiss him if you wanted to, needing only to relax your neck and let your head fall to close the rest of the minimal gap between you. He looked up at you with wide eyes, holding onto your gaze with an unreadable expression on his face.

All you saw, however, was a small mole dotting the underside of his lips. Fuck, you wanted to kiss Taehyung and rid yourself of the nightmare, but you couldn’t shake the sensation of how wrong it felt to kiss anyone but Jungkook.

“Y/N,” Taehyung called your name cautiously and pulled you from your thoughts. Instantly, your eyes welled with tears at the realization of how fucked you were.

You yanked yourself from him with abandon, needing to get far away from the reminder that you couldn’t move on.

Kim Taehyung was mature. He was kind and respectful- everything you could ask for in a man- yet the thoughts of Jungkook and the good memories you had with him outweighed the bad, preventing you from truly letting go.

Before Taehyung could protest, you stood and left him on the ice, making for a quick exit. You wanted to go back and help him up so that he wasn’t in danger, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at his face in this setting.

Instead, you skated off the rink and walked to the skate rental area, plopping down on the bench weakly to untie the laces. Once you did so, you set them on the counter and waited for your boots with your eyes on the ground. You didn’t want anyone to see you on the brink of crying.

“Y/N!” Taehyung’s voice was loud and attention-grabbing. You had half the mind to be concerned that he would cause people to notice him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you finally got your boots and rushed to put them on. Taehyung was finally off the ice when you slid the first boot on.

“Y/N,” He called your name again, awkwardly approaching you with the blades still on his feet. “Please, talk to me.”

You could only sniffle in response and continue to put your boots back on, a fresh wave of tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You’d kept them at bay thus far but Taehyung was making it extremely difficult as his comfort approached you. The welcome yet heartbreaking aura he exhumed paired with your teetering emotional stability wouldn’t fare well in such a public setting.

Without hesitation, you stood and walked away once you were done securing your shoes back on your feet. Again, you felt the urgent need to be alone.

And again, Taehyung was right behind you as he ran without putting his shoes back on.

“Y/N!” He grabbed you as he called your name more sternly, forcing you to face him. Your eyes met his briefly before you looked back down to the pavement and cursed yourself once a tear slipped out. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Because I-” Your breath caught in your throat as it constricted due to the beginning of a sob building in your chest. You cleared your throat and struggled to breathe your way through your response- one you had trouble communicating. “-I just can’t.”

Taehyung grimaced, looking around with concern, before he ushered your body to begin walking away from the busy area.

Once you were a good distance down the street, he grabbed both of your shoulders and forced you to face him once again. Away from the well-lit area of the ice rink, the only light that shone in the middle of the dark night was that of the street lights. With bated breath, you looked up at your friend with your mouth closed tightly so that the sob in your chest wouldn’t come barging past your lips.

The pain was nearly unbearable. It anguished you, knowing that you were stupid enough to think that you could eventually move on from Jungkook. It pained you, being aware of the fact that Taehyung had offered himself to you and you did nothing but continue to look at Jungkook.

But most of all, it hurt that you still wanted Jungkook.

If only you could reach into your chest and tear your heart out so that you couldn’t feel anymore. If only you could shut off your feelings so that it didn’t agonize you like this. If only it were that easy.

Under the light of the street lamps with Taehyung’s look of pity- the one he held as he looked at you across the club on that dreadful night those few years ago- on you, you broke.

As you began sobbing, Taehyung pulled you against his body and backed up into the darkness to give you the privacy to cry without being seen.

The pain stabbed your heart repeatedly; quick blows, shallow at first, became increasingly deep as you drowned in the memories of what once was.

Falling so passionately in love became your biggest regret. For so long, you hated the idea. You hated the fact that you still loved Jungkook notwithstanding the things he had done. You denied the fact until you started seeing the good memories again- until it was an unavoidable and objective truth.

The truth that you still loved him.

As Taehyung held you tightly in his embrace while you held your hands to your face and dug your nails into your skin, you sobbed uncontrollably at how completely and royally fucked you were.

“W-why-” You blubbered into your palms. “-why do I-I still lo-ove him?”

“Because your heart wants what it wants, Y/N. You have no control over that.”

At this point, you had to tell him how you felt- how you truly felt.

“I w-wish that it wa-anted you. I’m so sorry, T-Tae.”

“Hey, now. Don’t say that. It’s a waste of time to wish for things that you have no control over. Don’t waste a wish on something stupid like that.” Taehyung pressed his face to the top of your head, pressing his lips there to leave a small kiss. “Besides, I have someone waiting for me back home so you don’t need to worry anymore.”

Instantly, you looked up at him in shock while still hiccuping. “You do?”

“Of course.” Taehyung laughed warmly, smiling down at you. “I wasn’t gonna be stuck on you forever. One way or another, you move on.”

“It’s been years since I’ve even seen him, Tae. The fact that I still haven’t moved on despite that has to tell you something.”

“Which is why I told you that you still need to talk to him. You can’t move on or do anything about the way you feel unless you communicate it.” He pulled back to bend his body to become eye-level with you so that he could look you in the eyes as he spoke. “There’s things you don’t know.”

For a moment, you weighed his words in your mind. If they’re things that Taehyung can’t tell you because they’re ‘not his place’ to say, then you figure that the matter must be a serious one. Your curiosity was getting the best of you. It wasn’t long before you gave in.

“Yeah…” You trailed off in hesitation, suddenly regretting shutting out Jungkook. “I guess I do need to talk to him.”

“Please just… take your time and be patient with him.” Taehyung winced slightly. “He’s hot-headed but he’s a lot better than he was before. I promise you that.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Taehyung.” You scowled as you backed out of his embrace.

“You know I don’t. I would never suggest that you talk to him if he was the same as he was before.”

A few beats of silence passed before you asked the question that had been nagging at your mind since your revelation of remaining love for the lead singer of BTS.

“Do you think we still have a chance?”

Taehyung answered immediately. “That’s not my place to judge. All I know is that you guys did something sad like being broke up even though you had life.”

“Good god, Tae,” You huffed out a laugh. “Are you quoting Lil Dicky right now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Taehyung crossed his arms and let out a small ‘hmph’ as he lightly stomped his foot onto the sidewalk. “And you can’t stop me.”

For a while, Taehyung let you catch your breath and calm down while looking up and down the street. It seemed as if he was planning something.

Before you could process what he was doing, Taehyung took you by your arm, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and began walking across the street. You looked up in the direction of your path and noticed that you were heading towards the quaint coffee shop that seemed to be the only open place at the current hour.

Your eyes hurt from crying. Your chest ached from sobbing and hiccuping. Your heart and head hurt as they came to blows with each other. You were slowly beginning to freeze as the calming of your emotions slowed your heart and cooled your body. It was so fucking cold.

You could use a coffee right about now.

~#~

Thank you for reading, reader! If you’d like to check out the rest of my work, feel free to visit my Masterlist!

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge Pt. 2

Feyre’s part of The Damnation Series. Part 1 is here.

I am proud of myself for finishing this shit, because it’s long as fuck. Whoops.

~Feyre~

Honestly, I should’ve known.

I should’ve known that somehow, with whatever endless resources he has, he would find me. 

That’s all I can think as I find my way into the Impressionists exhibit and find Rhysand Azara, real estate agent to the stars, leaning against the wall, sipping a cup of coffee and looking at Dancers in Blue with narrowed eyes. 

It’s been five days since our date, and like the cliché I am, I’ve spent the entire time thinking about him. I’ve checked my phone countless times, and I even decided to stalk him and Googled his name. 

When--just like he’d said--nothing came up, I googled Dancers in Pink. He said he had it, but it had been sold a few years ago in an auction to “Amren Valenta.”

Unless Rhysand had a stage name, that was definitely not him. 

I dug some more, but after three hours all I discovered was that he owned Azara Industries, which owned a lot of buildings downtown. Oh, and he never let himself be photographed. 

Which was upsetting, because it means I had nothing to stare at whilst stalking him. 

Pathetic. I am so pathetic.

But anyway, I should’ve known he’d come here. He’d said he’d call, but he didn’t have my number. Plus, I’d told him I come here pretty much every day, so really, what did I expect?

I still laugh as I spot him though, somehow surprised, and ask, “Here to flirt with more art students?”

“Just one,” he answers, running his eyes over me as I draw closer. 

Gods, this man is seductive. He’s just looking at me, but I feel his gaze like a touch, dragging over my entire body with slow, intentional grazes. 

My breath hitches, and his eyes twinkle, like he’s well aware to the dirty place my mind has wondered. I can tell he’s holding in some likely-male comment, but he refrains from embarrassing me and he holds out another cup of coffee. 

I take it, grateful for the caffeine boost, and find it somehow made exactly the way I like it. Maybe I’m not the only one stalking. 

Although his methods have to be better than mine if he already knows about the definitely unhealthy amount of sugar I put in my coffee. 

“How many times have you been here this week?” I ask, curious to see his level of devotion. 

“Three. Not a very convenient way of communicating with someone, I admit. I was about to send a smoke signal.” He watches me sip the coffee, watches my tongue dart over my lip. “Plans tonight?”

I fight a sigh and decide to be a student worthy of my scholarship for once. “I told myself I’d work on my senior project.”

His lips twitch at my dejected tone. “What is it?”

A ginormous pain in my ass. “Bad,” I say simply. 

He shakes his head, sipping his coffee and eyeing me over the rim of the cup. “Details.”

For someone who offers no information, he loves demanding it from me. Instead of fight it, I groan and give in to the patriarchy. “It’s just bad! It’s supposed to be a mix of different styles and mediums, but it’s going so poorly I might just start over. Or drop out and become a starving artist a year ahead of schedule.”

Rhysand smiles at my phrasing. “I would never let you starve. And what do you mean, mixing styles and mediums?”

“For someone who frequents museums and has millions of dollars in art, you don’t know much about it, do you?”

“I have people for that.”

“Amren Valenta?” I ask without thinking, exposing myself as a stalker. 

He pauses, cup halfway to his smirking mouth, and raises a brow. “Clever, creepy little woman,” he teases. “But yes. Amren is my curator, and we use her name because I don’t want media attention. As I’m sure you know.”

Busted and blushing to high hell, I roll my eyes and become a junior detective. “Isn’t it illegal to buy something with someone else’s name? What if the IRS comes after you?”

Rhysand looks at a loss for words at that. If I weren’t serious, it would make me laugh how shocked he looks. “I guess,” he says after a moment, “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

I roll my eyes again, because we both know he doesn’t give a shit. It’s not like the IRS actually enforces rules for the one percent, anyway.

“Now tell me about your project.”

Rolling my eyes at how bossy he is, I tell him, “I wanted to combine photography and painting. And I wanted it to be kind of abstract, but also realistic enough.”

“Ambitious.”

I sigh, not able to repress it this time. “Stupid, is what it is. I don’t even know where to start. I have no motivation, let alone inspiration, to work on it.”

A contemplative look crosses his face. “I know where you could find inspiration.”

I raise an eyebrow and gesture around us, because in case he’s missed it, we’re in a museum. Inspiration abounds. But he scoffs and whispers, “This is child’s play compared to a certain someone’s private collection.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, playing along and pretending I don’t know the someone he’s talking about.

He nods, looking around as if making sure there are no spies in the completely empty room listening we’re standing in. “He has Degas, Monet, Dali, you name it. And he’s generous enough to let you come over tonight.”

Pursing my lips, I scan his face, trying to see if he’s serious. I mean... I am dying to see his collection. But, “Is this just a ploy to get me naked?”

He puts a hand on his chest, offense written across his face. “You think I’d try to seduce you while you study?”

“Yes.”

“You’re probably right.” He chuckles, then says, “If you need to get naked to look at art, I certainly won’t complain. But no, Feyre darling, this isn’t a ploy.”

I pause, half stuck on the whole darling thing and half contemplating what to do. 

Ploy or not, I know that if I go to his apartment or house or mansion or castle, I’ll probably sleep with him. He’s too attractive, and my resolve just isn’t that great where’s he’s concerned. 

Plus, I know it’s insane, but art just... Never mind.

I tell myself nothing’s going to happen and that I’m going because of the art--both lies--as I say, “Okay.”

He extends a hand, and I slide mine into it, almost sighing at how perfect we fit together. Would that be the case everywhere? 

Feyre.

I avoid looking at him as he leads me from the room and outside, where a very beefy guy holds open the door to a black sedan. “Seriously?” I ask Rhysand as he ushers me in the back, then climbs in beside me.

“I usually drive myself,” he says in defense, smiling when I roll my eyes.

The city blurs around us as Beefcakes drives, and I’m about to ask where the hell he lives when the car pulls to a stop and the door opens. Climbing out, I look up at the black, shiny penthouse tower, and say, “Of course you live here.”

It’s expensive and in the city and has a million floors, and I bet he lives at the very tippy top.

He gives me a strange look but pulls me in the lobby, then into an elevator. We shoot up flight after flight till we reach the penthouse, confirming my suspicions. 

For what feels like the millionth time, I ask myself why the hell Rhysand’s taken an interest in me. I mean, a year of therapy got me to admit I’m decent looking and all, but I’m... I’m a college student. He’s older and richer and has his life together. Why does he want me?

I don’t have long to contemplate life’s great mysteries because the elevator doors slide open, revealing his apartment, and I become too busy trying to mask my surprise.

I thought the place would be... I don’t know, like him. Sleek. Modern. Luxurious. 

And it is, at least that last part. Everything is obviously expensive. But there’s also a homey quality created by a fireplace, plush couches, decorative rugs, tapestries.

It’s burgundy and black and cream, and so unexpected I smile.

I step in and walk automatically toward the huge windows, taking in the view and realizing we’re at the dead center of the city. In all directions, Chicago’s spread out, lights and traffic and Lake Michigan surrounding us.

Even though the place is beyond wonderful, there’s one thing missing. 

I turn to Rhysand and raise a brow. “No art?”

“One floor down.”

I have to press my lips together to keep the questions in. One floor down, as in it takes up the whole floor. As in he has a private museum. As in I’m so fucking excited I can hardly walk. 

But he seems to be baiting me, seeing how long I’ll last before demanding to be taken down there, so I casually walk around his apartment, taking in all the little details. “It’s more... lived in than I would’ve thought.”

He nods, knowing what I mean even though it was a poor way of explaining it. “I have a few places around the city, but this is the one I prefer.” Nodding to the kitchen, he asks, “Hungry?”

“You cook?” The thought of him covered in flour seems absurd, but we all have our hobbies.

He smiles like I’ve said something funny. “No, but I have takeout menus in there.”

“Hopeless,” I tease, going to the kitchen and opening the fridge like I’m the one who lives here. “I’ll find something.”

I end up finding beer, wine, cheese, and various fruits and vegetables.

Not a lot, but enough to make a charcuterie board, which just so happens to be my specialty. I search for a few minutes before finding a wooden cutting board, then start to assemble whatever snacks I can find.

Cherries and grapes, two types of cheeses, carrots, and crackers fill most of the board, and I fill in gaps with blackberries and chocolate chips I’m surprised he has. 

Once it’s completed and visually appealing enough, I slide it over to where he’s seated on a barstool and bow dramatically. “I’m a master cheese plate maker.”

“I see that. Wine?”

Nodding, I reach in the fridge and grab the first bottle I see. Setting it in front of him, I move to the cabinet and get two glasses and an opener.

Rhysand takes the opener and eyes the bottle, lips twitching as he smoothly uncorks it.

“What?” I ask, unable to figure out what’s funny. Was it weird to make a board or something? Surely even rich guys like cheese and crackers, right?

He pours two glasses, shaking his head and silently refusing to let me in on the joke.

Eyes narrowed, I sit next to him and suspiciously take a small sip from my glass. He watches me, probably expecting me to say something about it, so I offer, “It’s good.”

He bites his lip but can’t keep the laugh in at that, so I finally demand, “What?”

“It’s an $800 bottle of wine, Feyre.”

I almost spit it all over him, which would indeed be a shame, because there’s probably $50 in my mouth. Managing to swallow it down, I sputter, “You... you should’ve said something!”

He’s still laughing, but he stops to take a huge swallow and shrug. “I say we drink the whole bottle.”

I put my head in my hands, blushing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I couldn’t care less.” He pries my hands away. “Seriously. I just wanted to tease you.”

Now that, I believe. But I still ask, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” He smiles, taking another sip. “I keep the really expensive stuff at the townhouse, anyway.”

I roll my eyes and drink some more, somehow trying to taste it better or something now that I know it’s liquid gold. Shifting to put my foot on the stool, I lean across him to grab the platter.

His gaze glides over me slowly, and there’s surprise in his eyes, like he can’t believe I’m sitting in front of him so casually. 

It’s probably weird to be so... open around a stranger, but he’s not exactly normal, so I don’t feel any pressure to be, either.

Regardless, it’s a little hard to breathe with him looking at me like that, so to break the tension, I grab a cherry, pull the stem off, and hold it an inch in front of his face. 

“Ready?”

His eyes cross and he pushes my hand away so he can actually see what I’m holding. “Ready,” he confirms.”

I stick the stem in my mouth, using a trick I spent three hours teaching myself on a rainy afternoon to tie it in a knot, then pull it out with a victorious grin.

“Very impressive,” he notes, but before I can gloat about my supreme cherry-knotting abilities, he steals the stem and sticks it in his own mouth.

My eyes are wide, but I don’t have time to ask what the hell he’s doing before he pulls it out. 

Unknotted.

“Impressive,” I repeat, actually meaning it. “How’d you do that?”

“I’m good with my tongue,” he says immediately, obviously having been lying in wait for the question, and I huff a laugh.

If I called my sisters and told them what I’m going right now, they’d probably try to have me committed. I’m sitting in a billionaire’s penthouse apartment, drinking expensive wine and watching him untie cherry stems with his tongue. 

“How was your week?” I ask to get us back in semi-normal territory, grabbing a cracker off the plate.

He answers vaguely and asks me about mine, and just like that, we fall into easy conversation.

It’s honestly strange to me that after one date, we can talk like this. With my ex, it took weeks before I was really comfortable around him, and yet I feel completely at home with Rhysand.

He tells he’s from the south side of Chicago and asks about my hometown, and I it feels natural. It’s just... easy.

“By the way, you can just call me Rhys,” he tells me as we finish off the platter. “Using my full name reminds me of when I got in trouble in grade school.”

I drain my wine glass, a slight buzz in my veins, and ask, “So I only call you Rhysand when I’m about to spank you?”

He howls with laughter, then surprises me by asking, “What’s your middle name?”

“Adalene. Why?”

“Just trying to figure out what I’ll call you when we get around to spanking.” I blush as he continues, “Feyre Adalene should do.”

He puts the empty wine bottle in the trash and runs a finger over my red cheek. I bat it away, embarrassed, but he just laughs and asks, “Ready to go downstairs?”

For some reason, I get a little nervous, but I put on my big girl pants and nod, taking his hand when he offers it.

Then we’re back in the elevator, coasting down a floor, and just before the doors open, he says, “Close your eyes.”

Anticipation makes it difficult to follow the request but I manage, and he guides me out of the elevator and turns me slightly. “Open.”

I open my eyes and come face to face with something I never thought I’d see. 

“You... you have a...” I whisper, not quite able to get the word out.  

“Meule.”

One of eight left in private collectors hands, Monet’s Meules--or Grainstacks--are some of the most recognizable, renown works of art in the world. The last was sold four years ago for over $80 million.

Amren Valenta is a very, very rich woman, according to her art collection. 

I’m standing inches from it now, mildly unsure of how that happened, looking at the sunset colors bleed into the shadows of the grain, taking in the easy lines and brushwork.

Turning to look at him, I see he’s leaned against the wall next to the painting, head tilted as if I’m the most interesting thing in the room.

“I can’t believe I’m here right now,” I say honestly, my voice airy and light.

He just smiles and motions to my right. “The collection goes in a loop.”

I nod, and after a few more minutes staring at the Monet, I start to walk.

Or more like mosey. 

If he’s irritated with how long I’m taking, he doesn’t mention it. He follows me as I stare after pieces of art I never dreamed of being close to. Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Klimt, Pollock, Munch.

And then, at the edge of my peripheral, I see it.

Dancers in Pink hangs besides a smaller Degas, but it’s all I can look at. The dancer’s skirts are so bright in person, the tulle layers seeming to come off the canvas. The gold in the background is vibrant and metallic, in sharp contrast with the dark wall it hangs on.

Gods, it’s beautiful.

I know there are more famous paintings in here, but I’ve spent three years going to look at Dancers in Blue, never imagining I’d see one a similar work. 

Tears slide down my face and a laugh bubbles out of me, the two reactions complete opposites but both somehow feeling right.

Strong arms wrap around my waist, and I feel Rhysand’s chin settle on my shoulder as he hugs me from behind. “You know,” he whispers, seeming to not want to disrupt my moment with loud noises, “I never understood how important this is to people.”

“Oh, Rhysand. It’s... wonderful.”

It’s an inadequate way to say what I want to say, but it’s all I can come up with at the moment. I lean into him, and we stand like that, me staring at the painting, him at me, for a long while. 

When I start to get tired, I turn in his embrace, wrap my arms around his shoulders, and kiss him softly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

I somehow finish the loop, and by the time we’re in the elevator again, I’m so emotionally spent I can’t hardly breathe.

“Inspired?” he questions, linking our hands and pulling me closer to his side.

I nod, but inspired doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m grateful and overwhelmed and so happy I could burst.

A professor once told me that art is a gift that lasts forever and never stops giving, and I never really understood what she meant until now. Over a hundred years after Dancers in Pink was completed, it still brings people to tears.

It’s a powerful and beautiful and eternal way to send a message, and it makes me feel like a small piece of the puzzle, but at the same time, so important and alive.

We glide smoothly back up to his apartment, but neither of us move once the doors ding open. 

Because technically, there’s no longer a reason for me to be here. 

I’ve seen the art, drank his expensive wine. I should get my bag and go. 

I should... but I don’t want to. 

Rhysand’s perfectly quiet and still beside me, patiently waiting for me to make up my mind. 

The angel on my shoulder tells me how sweet and considerate he’s being. The devil tells me to reward this behavior with a few sinful ideas. 

Running a hand through my hair, I debate my options. Be smart and leave, or stay and try and fight the urge to throw myself at him. 

“Oh, fuck it,” I mutter, dramatically taking a step forward like I’m going into war.

He laughs as he follows me off the elevator, strolling back to the kitchen. “More wine?”

I nod, because at this point, I’m already a lost cause. He opens a new bottle and pours me some. “How much was this one?”

“Ten dollars,” he lies, fighting a smile. “On sale at Walmart.”

“I’m surprised you even know what Walmart is,” I laugh, taking my seat back at the bar. 

“You forget I’m from the south side. All this,” he motions around us, as he takes the seat next to me. “Used to be nothing more than a dream.”

“How’d you do it?” I ask, genuinely curious. Most people with his kind of wealth were born into it and given every advantage possible. “What’d you do?”

He looks down at the floor, but there’s a sudden set of his jaw, a tightness in his shoulders. “Whatever I had to.”

I don’t point out he’s given me yet another non-answer. Instead I say simply, “I find working for something makes you value it more, anyway.”

His eyes find me again, and there’s something I can’t read in his gaze. “Yes, it does. And it makes you do whatever it takes to keep it.”

I swallow and nod slowly, trying to figure out what exactly he means.

He takes a deep breath, then drinks the wine in his glass in a single swallow. There’s a story there, and it’s easy to see it burdens him, but it’s his to tell in his own time. 

Just to get that strain out of his gaze, I switch topics completely. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how you untied that damn cherry stem.”

Rhysand smiles, a full one that showcases all his pretty little teeth, and leans in, the intent clear in his eyes. 

“Come here and I’ll show you,” he whispers.

I press my lips to his and open them immediately--for the lesson, of course--and his tongue meets mine in a slow glide. 

Where our first kiss was all heat and drifting hands, this one’s slow and sensual and like ice cream melting on a summer day. 

His mouth fits mine perfectly, and his hands seem to be made to hold me, sliding up my thighs to settle on my hips. The hair at his nape is soft against my fingers, and I lean on the stool to get closer and wrap my arms around his neck.

I suck on his tongue, and he makes a low sound, then his hands are tightening and lifting, and I’m being settled on his lap.

Both of us on one stool isn’t ideal, but I wrap my legs around his waist and hope we don’t go crashing over. 

Gravity comes into play and I start sliding, so he turns the stool and traps between him and the counter. The granite digs into my spin, but I can’t be bothered to care, because the new position gives his hands freedom to roam again, and he slides them over my thighs, across my ass, up my sides. 

His thumbs brush the sides of my breasts, and they become heavy and aching against his chest.

His mouth slowly drags down to my neck, and I sigh as he finds that one spot that drives me crazy. His nips the skin, tongue smoothing the small hurt, and his name slips out of me in a quiet moan. 

Everything seems to change at once.

Cursing creatively, he sweeps me into his arms and stands, then walks us into his living room and plops onto a plush couch. 

My ADHD kicks in and I’m momentarily distracted by how soft the leather is, but then his tongue runs across the seam of my lip and I snap back into focus.

My hips are churning against him, desperate for some friction, and I kiss him without restraint, abandoning our slow, peaceful rhythm from earlier. I hadn’t realized I’d been working on the buttons of his shirt, but then a band of tan skin is exposed, and I dip my head to press my lips against it. 

He tugs my hair to bring my mouth back to his, and I practically attack him, biting his lip and pulling his hair and generally acting like a depraved cavewoman.

He doesn’t complain, though. His hands drag my hips closer, then slip under the hem of my sweater. 

The scrape of his callouses on my sides snaps me back to the shocking reality where I’m--yet again--making out with a man I hardly know, and I gasp, then curse, then practically jump backwards off his lap. 

Standing in front of him, I put a hand over my mouth like that’ll stop me from using it and look him over. 

He’s all sprawling legs and swollen lips and beautiful eyes, and I force my eyes to the ceiling. “You look like a hot, virginal dork I just deflowered in the back of my minivan,” I tell him. 

“I feel a bit like that,” he laughs, running a thumb over his bruised lips almost in shock. “Although it’s always nice to be desired.”

I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so distracted by him looking so thoroughly messy. 

But I know that despite what just happened, I can’t do this with him yet. 

I mean, I definitely could, and it definitely would be enjoyed by all parties involved, but I would regret it. 

Rhysand isn’t someone I can just sleep with and forget. I’ve known him a week, and I already feel a strange sort of bond with him. 

If we slept together, then never spoke again, it would hurt me more than I’d care to admit. 

“I think I should leave.”

He nods like he was expecting this, but asks, “Why?”

Putting my hands on my hips, I repeat what I said earlier. “Working for something makes you value it more, remember?”

He smiles and stands, taking a minute to straighten the clothes I’d pawed out of place.

“It also makes you do whatever it takes to keep it,” he reminds me, a shiver sweeping over me at the words. “Come on; I’ll walk you out.”

We go to the elevator and stay on opposite ends the entire ride down. I’m a little proud, because I most certainly thought about crossing over to his half. 

Stepping outside, Rhysand motions for Beefcakes to open the door. “He’ll drive you home.”

“Thank you,” I say, starting towards the car. 

I take two whole steps before he’s somehow in front of me, blocking the path. “Two more things.”

He kisses me, gently but firmly, then pulls back and slips a piece of paper in my hand. “It’s your turn to send smoke signals.”

I look down at the paper and see a number written in a slashing scrawl, intelligently putting together that it’s his phone number. I look back up to respond, but he’s already back at the entrance to the building. 

Rhysand looks over his shoulder, winks, and disappears inside. 

I get in the SUV and tell Beefcakes my address, and off we go. I study the piece of paper the entire way there, mind reeling with everything that happened today. 

The easy conversation, the art, the kiss. 

Is this how it feels to be swept off your feet?

And how long, exactly, do I have to wait before calling him?

________________________________________________

This took me so long to edit holy FUCK. Part 3

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[anatrik]

Folklore feels like summers spent in your hometown, wandering barefoot with your best friend all day, coming home to sweet tea set on the porch. You slouch in a deck chair, watching the sun set, your grandmother's soft voice rising and falling beside you.

She tells stories, histories of the people you see everyday, Old Man James and his Betty. James and Betty, Betty and James who'd been together so long everyone thought of them as two halves of a single unit, a living breathing forevermore. But Grammy remembers...there was once another girl. A girl, with startling green eyes and a heart of fire and desire. A girl, shamefully wronged, disregarded, brushed under the carpet with all the lint, lost socks and cardigans, things we wish to forget. The girl everyone remembers and no one mentions.

Rebekah.

And you listen in wide eyed silence, trying to reconcile the image of the bluff honest old man with that of a dark haired philanderer, trying to picture Mrs. Betty- who still looks at her husband like she sees the 17 year old boy she fell in love with- huddled under the bleachers as Mrs. Inez (that old bat?!) confirms that the rumours are true, trying to imagine what the woman would've looked like, this Rebekah, who'd been able to steal a man's eyes from 'Betty the Beauty' and coming up with a blank because some things simply defy imagination.

"How?", you whisper in a strangled voice

"How can she bear to even look at him?"

Grammy smooths a hand over your tousled head and smiles at how young you are, how black and white the world you live in, how innocent.

Because invisible strings tie us to our fates. Because Betty knew the other girl and the shitty hand life had dealt her. Because James had been 17 and hadn't known a single thing. Or maybe, it was something as simple as a sorry at the right time by the right person for the right reasons.

And the other girl? You want to ask. But it feels wrong somehow, after all these years, her memory still tainted, her grave still fresh, her presence always felt.

Grammy hears the question anyway-she always does. Her voice grows softer, her words come out hoarse and laced with bitterness. And she tells you, about a runaway who had left home by moonlight with a twenty dollar bill and the clothes on her back, how she slept her way through bus stops and shady motel rooms, greedy fingered old men who had breathed in her desperation like it was the finest of perfumes. About a lost girl who didn't know better and the men who should have. How finally one summer, she had stumbled into a sleepy little town, 1989 miles away from where she had started, a ghost town she'd thought, marvelling at the silence. And then...him. They had talked politics and got drunk under the streetlights, spent weekends together and he'd made her feel special, kissed all her aches better, really truly saw her. For the first time she felt like she could maybe put down roots, here where the grass was green and the skies purple pink and blue, here where she had been happy for the first time. And then, when the wind turned and the evenings grew longer, he'd finally touched her and it had felt like a goodbye. When she woke up twisted in the empty bedsheets, she was alone. All of August slipped away into a memory .

The school year was a knife to the chest, her love had relegated her to the shadows, abandoned her to the whispers and side eyes. They called her a bad girl, a mad woman, a whore, nothing she hadn't heard before but nothing ever really prepares you to hear it again.

"What happened to her?" you ask in a hushed voice.

She left. The day of James and Betty's wedding, the whole town and it's cousins were at the church, no one missed the freak. She went back to the city she'd run from, back to that house of horrors, the demons had long since died but their ghosts remained in the walls. But she knew what it was to live with ghosts. She wasn't one to fear things that couldn't touch her.

She worked her way through med school, threw herself into her work, reckless, passionate, determined and burned like a star in a sky full of streetlights.

Then came the great war of men, what your history textbooks called the second world war.

"You were there too?" you whisper in awe.

Yes. I was posted with the 104th infantry. It's where I met your grandfather.

She speaks of the guns and the smoke, the trenches of blood and broken men, the white curls darken and the wrinkles fall away, you see your soft Grammy, but also the steely young nurse she had once been.

She speaks of a young soldier, Bill, and a love set to a soundtrack of artillery fire, uncertainty and prayers. A love neither easy nor inevitable, that they had fought for tooth and nail because it was all either of them had.

She tells me of their early days, back when Bill was just one among a thousand struggling young men,the times she almost ran because it was the only thing she knew. How after a particularly vicious fight he had come after her to find her stood on the cliffside, angry, unsure, screaming at him to give her one fucking reason. How he had slowly unpicked the messy knots in her head where love and lies were so entwined she couldn't tell one from the other. How she'd warned him of the storms that lived within her and he'd weathered through them all. How she had finally found it in herself to believe again.

And then the homecoming, the city life wasn't for them and Grammy had missed the sea. So they'd packed their bags, said goodbye to St.Louis by moonlight. Then the house on the beach, parties straight out of Gatsby, card games with Dali. The quiet moments in Grandpa Bill's arms. Their new neighbours, James and Betty who had moved back home to raise their family. How James would sometimes look at her like he was seeing someone else or maybe a reflection of the man he could've been. How whenever that happened Betty's lips would tighten imperceptibly. How he always snapped out of it. Every single time. He always went back to his Betty. Bill would tell a joke to smooth over the tense silence, the moment would pass. Everything would come back to normal. Then she had your mother, your uncle, your other uncle, their dog, Benjamin, Grandpa Bill's heart-attack, the stories start running together and before you know it gentle arms are carrying you to your bed, a soft I love you goes unanswered, summer ends, it's time to go back home.

When you come back next, the porch is empty, no sweating jug of sweet tea on the table. The house is crowded and smells of roses- Grammy hated roses- and expensive perfumes. There's too much black everywhere- Grammy hated black- you search for a familiar face in the sea of weeping strangers and find none. You huddle close to where Grammy lies. She looks so peaceful. Just like you remember from the last day of summer. People come up every few minutes, mumbling words of comfort to your mother as your uncles stand by stoically. No one says a word to Grammy, which is pretty rude you think considering she's the reason they're all here. They hover uncertainly, then attempt to drift away inconspicuously. Mrs. Betty and Old man James are among the last, you look up curiously trying to see beyond the ill fitting suit and the balding grey head, but whoever James had been at 17, was long gone. He stands for a long time, his head bowed, tears slowly dripping down the tip of his nose. He doesn't say a word to your mother. He doesn't say a word to anyone. But from where you sit you can see his lips moving, the same word again and again, like a prayer, Betty, Betty, Betty. You wonder why he'd be talking to his wife right now. But then you see Betty's mouth tighten.

Becky, Becky, Becky...

Grammy.

Rebekah.

Thank you. For folklore. For these stories. For everything. @taylorswift

[kennyhoemega]

For the ask... let's do... 9, 21, 39, 62, 63, and 100 (Matt or Nick)

9. What do you/did you study?

i study bio and minor in computer science but i’m actually switching it around! i’ve taken all the classes i need to complete biology as a minor and would rather continue taking computer science classes instead

21. How was your day?

it was really good actually. i went for a hike at a local state park with my dog and enjoyed the warm weather and had ice cream for dinner!!!

39. What does your last text message say?

why does this song actually fuck

62. Hated popular songs/artists?

ariana grande (sorry bre & kayla, pls don’t kill me)

63. Put your music on shuffle and list first 5

a better place, a better time - streetlight manifesto

the slowest drink at the saddest bar on the snowiest day in the greatest city - the lawrence arms

focus on your own family - off with their heads

daly city train - rancid

pet sematary - ramones

100. Matt or Nick?

nick. always. every single time. you’ll never change my mind. he’s so talented. matt gets all the credit cuz he’s kind the ring general of the two and don’t get me wrong, i do love matthew elizabeth too, but nick is so so so good at what he does. i think he’s one of the most underrated wrestlers in the business and everything he does is so smooth. his in-ring ability blows me away. the dude is an athletic workhorse and his high flying shit is incredible. ALSO the only way matt beat him in their fight against one another was because he cheated with the thumbtack shoe so there’s that. plus his sleeby bedroom eyes are gorgeous and his smile is pure sunshine and he never had ugly mutton chops like his brother :)

[ohcoriolanus]

location: the phoenix and turtle cafe date: march 21st, 2019 status: injured, healing (on crutches from a bullet to the leg and other various issues)  closed starter w/ @maeve-petre​

THERE IS A MOMENT, HOWEVER BRIEF, WHERE CYRUS IMAGINES HE WOULD BE HAPPY. As the sunlight streams through the window, casting a gentle glow on the face of his companion and scattering shimmers all around them, he cannot help but feel his mouth twitch ever-so-slightly upwards. 

He had dreamed of something like this once, Cyrus remembers Once, as a naive child who had no idea what the world had in store for him, he had watched pair of young Veronans laugh to themselves at the Phoenix and Turtle cafe, a far cry from the solemn meal that he and his mother were sharing a few tables to their left, and he had imagined himself in their place. His teeth gritted tight together, his knuckles turning white in his lap, the young boy had promised himself that he would remember this moment and-- if his future included anything that looked like that, that he would be satisfied- if he had ever had one dinner that was not overcast with silence, if one person ever looked at him with joy clear on their face, even if just for a moment, he would never ask for anything else.

He would have been happy to see himself now, Cyrus thinks wistfully. 

But even before the thought is over, a voice, sneering and contemptuous, chimes in from the back of his mind with an ugly truth: perhaps, it says, but you and I both know he is long gone. 

The reminder is cruel, but, however much Cyrus flinches as the infinitesimal smile drops from his face, he knows that it is the truth. No matter the bittersweet feeling welling in his throat, Cyrus is no more the boy that made the promise to be happy than Verona is the city he left. There are fleeting similarities, of course, some architecture left the same, but time stops for no one. Things have changed. In the decade he has been a stranger, he has seen too much to appreciate the naivete still written clear on people’s faces, done too much to ever be satisfied by any simple affection. The Cyrus who sits at the table wants in a way he never used to; he hungers, his ambition overflowing out of his chest. The Cyrus that sits at the table is not happy- no matter how much some primal and long-buried version of himself wants to be- and he is better because of it.  

“It is nice to be here with you,“ he says to Maeve, the smile he offers her now, much wider and far more false, “you cannot imagine the week I’ve had.“

He gestures vaguely at the crutches that are propped up to the table. Though he laughs airily, an overwhelming feeling of nausea passes over him at acknowledging his current weakness. “I am willing to give the benefit of the doubt and say, when Grace Daly shot me in the leg, she did not consider that I lived on a third floor walk-up apartment. But still, fuck her and fuck all Montagues for what they’ve put me through.”

He sighs dramatically, “Dio, I hope you stabbed yours in the dick.” 

[hoseokmylovesworld]

Picture of Love | 14 (M)

Pairing: Photographer!Hoseok x OC x Producer!Yoongi

Genre/Warnings: Hoseok AU/Yoongi AU/Includes strong language, anxiety attacks, violence, mentions of death, fluff, smut, dirty talk, rough sex, deep throating, choking, oral and vaginal sex.

Words: 9,464

Summary: Charlotte Galloway is the leader of the up and coming girl band, “She-Bang”, with a side hustle as a photographer for anyone who will hire her.  She meets a fellow professional photographer named Jung Hoseok who helps “She-Bang” realize their dreams and Charlotte to make a love connection along the way.

A/N: This is the longest one yet, but please read to the end, it’s a doosey

“Leyah this is serious, come on.” I chide, yanking her back from flicking the blinds with her fingers in the empty apartment. After browsing the internet and newspaper idly for more adequate living situations for the last few weeks, the girls and I finally decided to actually take a look at some of them.

“I was just checking if the blinds were up to par...they’re not.” She flicks them again and they shake wildly, proving her accusation.

“We can always replace the blinds Leyah, what do you think about this place?”

“I think it’s way too small.” she responded curtly, looking up and around in an unsatisfactory way.

I sigh in defeat. “It’s one of the only ones we can afford so it’s gotta count as a definite maybe right now.” Leyah just hums and rolls her eyes.

The apartment we were viewing was much like the others we looked at this week. Two bedrooms, a small kitchen and a small living area. Everything was just small and as much a we needed a space to accommodate all of us and our belongings, we all made the same living and it just wasn’t enough.

“Well, maybe if you asked your loaded boyfriend nicely, he might pitch in.” Leyah muttered with her hand against her cheek as if she were telling me a secret. I slap her arm quickly.

“That’s not funny, Leyah. I wouldn’t ask him to do that, we’re not even like...together, together yet.” Leyah whips her head around to face me with a shocked expression.

“Are you serious? You guys haven’t talked about making it official yet? It’s been like...over two months.” Leyah’s eyes went out of focus as she did the math in her head.

“No, we talked about it.” I share as she follows me to check out the master bedroom once again. “He didn’t really understand why I didn’t want to be called his ‘girlfriend’, it sounds really selfish now that I’m telling this to someone else, but he understood. Like he does everything. We agreed to just be together without any actual labels. It’s like our own little ‘official’.” I shrugged, thinking back to that awkward conversation.

My breakdown in his kitchen, prompted many questions about our relationship from Hoseok that I couldn’t ignore. After going into detail about my strong aversion to the word girlfriend and relationships altogether before I met him, he decided he was content with simply being mine and vice versa.

“Wow, you are officially the luckiest girl alive.” She drawled, looking quite impressed with Hoseok herself. “Thank you, but I’m aware.” I smiled to myself and we moved onto the next apartment on the list.

After hopping all over town from Ocean Avenue to Daly City looking for apartments, Leyah and I crash as soon as we enter the apartment around 7:30 PM. I plop down onto my bed, lazily removing clothing items from where I lay and drifting to sleep easily.

“No, Char! Are you dumb or something?”

“Should you still be eating? Gimme that, you’re gonna get fat.”

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to do it on your own!”

“Why do I even bother? You never do anything right!”

“God! Have you always been this dense?”

“I literally said the opposite. Fucking listen for once!”

“Gak!” I gasped as I was jolted out of my sleep by yet another nightmare. I look up at the ceiling, focusing on it’s squiggly pattern, trying to calm my heaving chest and my racing mind. The room was pitch black in most places, the only light being offered was by the moon in lines of white along the walls. I lie awake, convinced that if I attempt to go back to sleep, I’ll only be able to see his face barking at me for all of my defects and faults.

The sudden need to need to vomit that will never be relieved takes over my gut and the heaving of my chest has increased and as it was constricting tighter and tighter.

Instinctively, my hand flies to cover my mouth when the familiar sting behind my eyes begins. The last thing I want is to wake any of the girls and have them worry about me. I try and try to shake the nasty voices, but the tears keep coming and I can’t find it in myself to be silent any longer as it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

I quietly make my way to the bathroom, shut the door and climb into the tub where I hugged my knees and allowed myself to sob, but somehow still keeping the volume to a minimum.

This had to be the fourth one this week.

It would surprise no one that I am no stranger to nightmares and I that usually handled them better than most people did. That is, if you can call suppressing my own emotions and traumas handling it, then I’m your girl. But this recurring shit storm that I was experiencing was different than any of the nightmares I’ve had previously. The reason being: they were all about my past. And almost all of them were about Yoongi.

Whether the dreams were pleasant or brutal, I was always an emotional mess afterward, feeling empty from reflecting on my past. I would get them often after Yoongi left. That’s when the panic attacks started getting serious. Knowing that I was actually alone in the world with no one to call a friend or even care that I existed unleashed a lot of dark thoughts and I had to learn how to make it on my own for real this time. If I had known opening up to J-Hope was going to send me spiraling back down that dark hole, I would have shut up and ate my pancakes.

But, I can’t put the entire blame on him. He didn’t force me to say those things or revisit the past and as cheesy as it sounds, the nightmares only come when he’s not sleeping next to me. I’ve noticed over the past couple of weeks or so that J-Hope is my personal dream catcher and tonight has solidified the fact that if I didn’t have him by my side as I slept, I was royally fucked.

The pounding in my ears softened and eventually slushed to a holt. The vice grip on my heart faded at a devastatingly slow pace and my breathing evened out as I counted the tiles on the shower wall. I let out a thankful sigh once the room stopped spinning and I was painfully aware of the silence in the room. I let my body fall back and I turned to lie on my side, still letting the tears fall from my eyes silently. I debated calling J-Hope during the aftermath. Hoping my personal ray of sunshine would pull me from my depressed funk as usual.

It’s gotta be at least 3 am, he won’t answer anyway.

He might, we have to try.

And say what? Hi, I’m sad. Drop everything to make me happy?

Obviously not, but he cares, he’ll want to help.

He’ll want to go back to sleep and wish we never called.

Don’t do this. We need it.

It felt like my conscience was wrestling with itself or with me, knocking against my skull in the battle causing a pesky headache. It took all of my strength to peel myself off of the floor of the tub and drag myself back to the room, to the bedside table where my phone was. It was indeed 3:36 AM and the confirmation made me place the phone back on the desk and forget the idea of calling J-Hope entirely.

We need to sleep Char. Come on. My conscience scolded me again.

I wanted to fight back at least for the sake of my pride. I made it a point not to need anyone for anything after that asshole broke my heart and here I am needing someone else to be able to sleep. I felt pathetic in plain terms. But at this point I knew I needed to try.

I take the phone and a room key, sneak into the hall and slide down the nearest wall. I glare at the screen a while longer, hurriedly dialing the number before I could change my mind. After the third ring I moved to hang up and throw away this half-baked plan, but then I heard his beautifully, groggy voice through the phone.

“Charlotte?” he rasped. I gasped slightly, not expecting him to pick up.

“Uh, yeah. Hey.” I spoke brokenly. I didn’t take into account the condition of my throat and voice sounding like I just gargled glass. I sniffle subconsciously.

“What’s going on? Are you alright?” He sounds more awake now, coming to with concern.

“Yeah, I just…” I choked, not knowing what to do or say in this situation. I felt lost. My words were trapped in my throat that seemed to be closing in on itself again as I wipe more fresh tears from my face. “No.” I finally whimper.

“What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

I don’t answer as I am too overcome with emotion, my words being turned into snivels and moans. After a moment he tries to get a response again.

“Charlotte.” He calls out, making sure I’m still there.

“I’m sorry...for calling so late. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s fine, just tell me what’s wrong, baby.” The pet-name sends warmth through my chest and a fractured smile to my face.

“I’m…” How does one tell another ‘I’ve just had a panic attack and I need to sleep next to you’ over the phone? I scour my brain for answers.

“Uh...are you home?” I squeak through the phone.

“Yes, I am.”

“Can I...can I come over? I’m really sorry, but I-I just need to see you.”

“Of course, Charlotte.” I close my eyes and let out a thankful sigh.

“Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.” I could hear movement on his end, probably him getting dressed to get me.

“No! You don’t have to do that. You just woke up, I don’t want you to get into an accident. I’ll just call an uber.”

“It’s ten minutes, Charlotte. I’ll be there in no time-”

“No, please, just stay, I’ll be fine on my own.” I said sternly, not willing to budge this time. He figured as much. There was a beat of silence.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” I reply automatically.

“You know what, I’ll call it, just so I know you’re safe.” He decided.

I roll my eyes, but smile at the sentiment. “Fine, Jay.”

“Okay, I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

I tiptoed back into the hotel room, to change into something more decent, but ready to sleep in and grab my necessities to head down to the lobby. A good amount of my clothes were already at J-Hope’s apartment, some makeup and toiletries as well so I didn’t need to bring much. I began staying over so often that it would be silly not to have my belongings over there. The girls made fun of me for it of course, but for once I didn’t buy into it. I was comfortable with our arrangements.

In no time I was knocking on J-Hope’s apartment door. I could hear faint footsteps before the door swung open in front of me to reveal him. He was shirtless and wore navy blue, checkered pajama bottoms and a comforting smile. I immediately threw my arms around him and buried my face in his neck. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me into the apartment and closing the door behind me. We just stood there for a long while until I separated us. With no words yet to be exchanged, J-Hope led me to his bedroom and basically tucked me in and watched as I got comfortable.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, still standing off to my side of the bed. “Water? Tea?” He added. I look up at him through tired eyes.

“Water sounds great, actually.” I all but croak. All the crying I did took a lot out of me and I realized I needed to rehydrate. He nodded, scampering off to the kitchen.

He made it back in record time, handing me a glass of water after I sat up a bit. He finally got in bed himself and I could feel him watching me. Studying me to see if I would break down again.

“You don’t need to watch me like that you know?” I say glancing up at him, he suddenly looks down when our eyes meet. “Like I’m gonna break at any moment.” I mutter.

“I’m sorry...it’s just when I heard you crying I got worried.” He looks me up and down again while I look at my already empty glass. “Thank you...for worrying. I really didn’t know who else to go to. I’m sorry.”

He grabbed my hand from my lap and squeezed. I looked at his wide eyes.

“Charlotte, you have no idea how glad I am that you came to me. I’m always gonna wanna make sure that you’re alright. Please don’t be afraid to come to me with things like this. You can trust me...Okay?”

I looked up at his deep brown eyes so full of emotion and nodded, believing in every word. I was still very much in shock that he’s not acting like I inconvenienced him or that he didn’t turn me away in the first place.

“Okay. With that being said...Are you alright?” He asked carefully, caressing my hand in his. I think about it and I find myself nodding slowly, once more. “Yeah.” Now that I finally have you next to me, yes.

“Good. What happened?”

“Uh, I had a nightmare.” I admit hesitantly. J-Hope knows about my recent night terrors and most of their contents. No matter how much I wanted to hide it from him, it’s like he has the power to get me to talk about these things. Like a vampire using compulsion. But he doesn’t know that he’s the antidote.

His shoulders drop and he sighs disappointedly. “Again?” I nod. “And then I kind of had a panic attack.”

He makes a pitiful face and clenches his jaw. He motions for me to put the glass down and then to get under the covers. We cuddle up to one another, facing each other and he rubs my back soothingly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I sigh as the familiar words leave his mouth. It always seemed to help to get these things off my chest to J-Hope so I threw myself back into the mess that started this whole ordeal.

“He was yelling at me again...barking more like. All those obnoxious things he used to say whenever I did something wrong...And then I was running. Down this pitch black street that never seemed to end. Until I get to this weird looking building with one white door on it...Y-” I wince as I almost uttered his name.

“He came out and just stood by the door like he was waiting for me or something. And then I turned around to see Maeve behind me...she looked like she was waiting for me too...It was like I had to choose. And I didn’t want to, but...I chose him.” I laugh bitterly before continuing. “It was so real, like a fucking slap in the face...No matter what happened between us or what horrible things he did or said to me, I always went back to him...all while pretending like Maeve never even existed. I turned my back on her, just like I did five years ago.”

“That’s not true.” J-Hope interjected immediately. “I know you feel like what happened to Maeve was your fault, but we both know that it wasn’t. And you were coping with her death in your own way.” I let out another harsh laugh.

“Well, thanks for seeing it that way.” J-Hope suddenly scooched down to my level and tilted my chin up to look him in the eye.

“You don’t know this, but I have made it my personal mission to get you to stop beating yourself up this way and to, instead, make you smile whenever you do. You’re so much better than that. I just wish you saw yourself the way I see you.” He said sincerely. I let the corners of my mouth slide up one at a time at the statement, knowing that, that is literally what he’s been doing and well. My heartbeat increased and small currents of electricity found a home in my fingertips. I had no words and so I settled for a slow, searing kiss to get my message across. “Mission accomplished.” He whispered when we broke the kiss. We giggle and actually settle in for bed, turning off the bedside lamps.

“Night, Charlotte.”

“Night, Hobi.” A few moments of silence passed before I decide I have a confession of my own.

“Hobi.”

“Hm?”

“You don’t know this, but...you’re my dreamcatcher.” I say into the darkness.

He delivers a kiss to my wild hair and I smile once more before drifting off into a glorious, dreamless sleep.

++++++++++++

I opened my eyes lazily, adjusting to the change of scenery. I find a strong sense of comfort in Hoseok’s arms wrapped snugly around me and I nuzzle myself into him further. He does the same, pressing our bodies together firmly and tightening his hold on me. I attempt to fall back to sleep when I feel a soft kiss planted on the back of my neck, signifying that he was awake. He continued to kiss along the side and make his mark on my cheek and jaw causing me to giggle helplessly.

I turn in his arms to face him and kiss his lips hard, both of us smiling into it like maniacs. It’s not long until he tries to get on top of me and caress my body with his strong hands. I allow him to do as he pleases and arch my body into his, inviting him to grind his core into mine.

“I can’t even stretch my limbs before you’re trying to ravage me.” I laugh into his perfect mouth.

“Haha, well I had to try before you left me for the girls.” He goes to plant another kiss to my neck as my eyes widen with adrenaline. I dodge him, turning to look at the alarm clock that read 4:47 PM.

“The girls!” I push him off of me and run to the dresser in record time while Hoseok watches, cluelessly. “I totally forgot, we have a fucking gig today!”

The show today starts at eight o’clock and usually waking up in the evening doesn’t compromise that, but seeing as I only have three hours to shower, dress, beg the girls for forgiveness and travel all the way to a venue in Bodega Bay, I’m beginning to panic slightly.

I race to grab some of my own clothes in his dresser, scamper into the shower and crank up the hot water. When I return I throw on the fullest face of make-up I can manage while moving at lightning speed. I manage to buff out my foundation and concealer, slap some brown and gold eyeshadow on my lid and brush on some mascara while Hoseok finds something and freshens up.

“Uh, I’ll drive you.” He decided in his sleepy stupor.

“Thank you. I’m sorry bout this Jay, I’ll pay you back, I promise.” I peck his cheek on the way out the door. He just laughs, rushing with me to his car in our pajamas. “Don’t worry about it Charlotte, let’s just get you back.”

“Thanks, Hoseok!” I kissed him on the cheek once more before I’m flying out of the car and racing up to the hotel room, hoping to God the girls aren’t too mad at me.

I slipped into the room silently, not wanting to be seen out of embarrassment. The suite looked empty. Did they leave without me? The room was mostly silent, save for the whispering of two voices coming from the bedroom. My shoulders drop in relief as I approach the slightly ajar door, but I froze when I hear the deep, broken voice of Darren.

“So, what do you want me to do? Just stop feeling the way I do?” He huffed in his usual low register. What is he doing in our room?

“Don’t say it like that Darren, you’re making me sound like the bad guy.” I heard Leyah’s smooth voice join his and my eye brows furrow, my curiosity spiked even higher.

Darren replies, sounding defeated. “That’s what you’re saying though...isn’t it?” Leyah sighs and by the way the bed released a noise of pressure, I can tell she sat down. “Well, yeah...I guess I am...I’m sorry.” There is a moment of silence before Darren speaks up again.

“It’s just...it sounds stupid Leyah, but I can’t hold it in anymore.” My head cocks in interest at his ambiguous words.

“And I’m sorry, but I’m asking you to do exactly that.” I found myself leaning closer to the door as the conversation went on, hoping to get closer to what Darren was getting at.

“I just told you, I can’t. What do you want me to do?” He asked sarcastically with a bitterness to his voice. More silence.

“Look, I just want this to work out for everybody and in order for that to happen, I need you to-I don’t know, just somehow keep this to yourself, okay? I know I’m probably asking too much of you, but I promise you, it’s for the best.”  

“So this works out for everybody but me, huh?”

“Listen to me, I know you want a second shot or whatever, but telling Char how you feel is going to help, literally no one, trust me.” Leyah pleads with her best friend in a soft, reassuring voice and my eyes widen immensely.

Holy fuck.

They were having this deep, arduous conversation about me the entire time. So, Darren really did have genuine feelings for me and knowing Darren, that’s probably what he meant to tell me the night of our fight. That was weeks ago. By then, I already knew Darren had feelings for me, but hearing that his feelings were so deep that he literally couldn’t hold back anymore was daunting. I try to keep my breathing under control and not give myself away as I continue to eavesdrop for more answers.

“Besides, Char is really into that J-Hope kid and...they’re good together.”She spoke with an apologetic tone. “You telling her how you feel would just complicate things. Or it might get you hurt and I don’t wanna see either of my friends hurt. I…I just want you all to be happy.”

“Happy-what about my happiness, Leyah? Every time I see them together, I just want to punch something. I thought you were trying to help me in this-”

“That’s all I’ve ever done, Darren! And this time is no different.” Leyah suddenly yells, causing me to jump back from the door and almost lose my footing.

“You may be blind to it because of your feelings for her, but it’s obvious he’s it for her...and vice and versa. I know you see it, you just refuse to believe it and I’m sorry, but there is no way an apology and a confession is going to win her over when all she can see is him. The way they look at each other...even Char refuses to see it, but I know you do...I am trying to help you...this is me, trying to help you. Please don’t do this.”

Silence.

I couldn’t help the corners of my mouth slowly turning up into a smile when Leyah said Hoseok and I were good together. I knew the girls didn’t mind him, but I never asked them what they thought of the two of us together. I’m glad my best friend approves because I intend to keep him around for a while. And despite how much I wanted to grimace at her saying he was it for me, I couldn’t fight the butterflies that erupted in my stomach at the thought. Day by day, I’ve been exposing myself to the wonderous world of monogamy that once disgusted me and coming closer to embracing it. It only took the most awkward encounter of my life to realize that Hoseok may actually be the one. I huffed out a laugh to myself at the revelation when Darren finally speaks.

“Damn, Leyah. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” He spat angrily followed by the sound of his footsteps heading towards the bedroom door. My eyes widened tenfold and I panicked slightly before tip-toeing to the hotel room door at lightning speed. By the grace of God I was able to open it and slam it before Darren barged out of the bedroom and directed his heated gaze at me, pretending I had just walked in. It quickly turned to shock and relief as he recognized it was me, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something, but changed his mind. I had trouble controlling my own facial expressions, not expecting to face him this quickly.

“Darren-oh, Char. You’re here.” Leyah said, closing the bedroom door behind her and joining Darren and I. She exchanged her frown for an emotionless line.

“What happened to you last night?”

“Oh. I, um...decided to go to Hoseok’s last minute and I got...caught up-uh…I’m really sorry I’m late.” I stammer, trying to give Leyah an excuse that won’t trigger Darren in turn.

“It’s okay, Char. I called, they pushed us back, it’s all good.” She shrugged. I sigh heavily and practically throw myself at her, wrapping my arms around her.

“You are the literal best. Why are you not in charge?” I whisper into her neck. She just chuckles and says “Because you’re much better at it.”

I continue to hug her, recalling what she said about my relationship with Hoseok, helping me to realize what was literally in front of my face the entire time. “Thank you.” I whisper once more.

“Anybody coulda done it Char, it’s nothing...come on, stop being weird.” he began to shrug me off, the longer we embraced and I broke away from her smiling. I turn around, remembering Darren was directly behind me and immediately avoiding eye contact. “Okay. Where is everyone? We should head out, right?”

“They’re in the garage, waiting for us.” Leyah shares, leading us out of the room.

“What were you guys doing?” I glance at the floor, trying to play dumb.

“I spilled something in your room, while I was waiting for Leyah to get ready. She helped me clean it up. Sorry.” Darren told me robotically as we got on the elevator. The excuse created another batch of questions I could have asked, but knowing the truth, I just left it alone for fear of being found out.

My friends were all waiting in the van in the garage and had many questions for me once I finally showed up. I just apologize repeatedly and dodge their questions as much as I can until they get that I don’t have any interest in discussing what exactly happened to me last night.

The atmosphere during the gig lacked that usual feeling of giddiness and excitement due to the events that occurred in the past 24 hours. My mind was full of thoughts of Darren and this incredibly uncomfortable situation he unknowingly put me in. It was obvious that Leyah and Darren were feeling it as well, their gazes always glazed over and far away whenever I laid eyes on them, which wasn’t often as I avoiding Darren again. Whenever he happened to be standing near me, I quietly slipped away to busy myself or when our eyes met, my eyes would dart elsewhere immediately. The other members seemed as lost as ever and skeptical, like they hadn’t been let in on a juicy secret.

When the option to visit the bar at the venue presented itself, I jumped at the opportunity, in desperate need of a drink after our set was over. I take a seat at the bar by myself, not bothered or surprised that the band left me alone. I see Darren do the same at the opposite side of the bar.They most-likely noticed me acting off and decided to give me space. I actually prefer it.

I had just downed my fourth shot and was starting to feel the effects when Darren took a seat on the stool on the right of me. I tense up involuntarily. I continue to look at the counter intensely, not acknowledging him until he speaks first.

“Hey, Char.” I turn to him slowly and glanced up at him from under hooded lids. He looked worried, for which one of us I couldn’t tell, but it made me antsy. I just nod at him. “You okay?” He followed up. I just nodded again, wishing to be anywhere, but here.

“Okay, um, I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute.” He stammered.

I made a face before responding. “You are talking to me.” I drawled. He just laughed, his pearly whites on full display, reminding me how painfully beautiful his smile is.

“In that case...I wanna apologize again for everything I put you through in the past couple of weeks-”

“You didn’t put me through anything Darren, you...were trying.” I cut him off, not wanting him to beat himself up over something he couldn’t control.

If you wanna apologize for something, apologize for sticking your nose in my business all the time.

“Well, I’m thankful you see it that way, but I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting.” He said sincerely.

Then why are you doing this?

“I forgive you...I still haven’t apologized for those things I said to you weeks ago. I’m not gonna lie and say they didn’t come from a place of truth, but I really shouldn’t have said them, especially like that.” I ramble drunkenly.

“You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, just pills I had to swallow, I guess.” He shrugged. I just shake my head, thinking back to that night and how nasty I was to him. But I don’t speak on it anymore, knowing he would take my side every time.

“I also wanted to tell you something that’s been on my mind for a while.” He spoke slowly.

I turn to look at the counter again and sigh heavily and my heart beat speeds up significantly. Even after listening to Darren and Leyah earlier, I’m not ready to hear it from him for real, face to face.

“I know you were listening to Leyah and I earlier.” My head snaps up at him and the room spins slightly, my eyes widen. He just chuckles at my reaction. “I saw you run by the door to make your escape.” I wish I could laugh like him, but the severity of the situation still has me on edge.

“I guess there’s nothing to say then.” I say still trying to escape this confession.

“I wish there wasn’t” He replies.

“There doesn’t have to be.” I look up at him with furrowed brows and eyes that read ‘don’t do this.’

He makes a face, signifying that he recognizes my rejection, but he goes on.

“I know you’re into this Hope kid, but like you said, I’ve waited long enough, I have to try and I don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t get this off my chest to you now.” He says with a passionate stare.

My body I moves before it has time to recognize the command form my brain, getting up and walking past Darren. I just had to get away in that moment. I stumble back when I feel his strong grip on my arm, turning me to face him. My eye twitched and my hands balled into fists. “Char, wait.” he pleaded.

“Darren let me go right now.” I feel my breathing quickened as I tried to free myself.

“Char, I love you.” His intense eyes meet mine, his voice was deep and fierce. His words immediately filled me with a sense of dread and my heart pounded in my chest, I was struck again with the need to escape.

“This isn’t happening, please let me go, now.”

“No, please, just listen to me. There is no one for me, but you, I need you to know that.” I work on unwrapping his hand from my arm when I made eye contact with the bartender behind Darren. He looked me over and his face lit up with concern. He took off to the front of the club and I was left to fend for myself against my friend in this sea of people who seem blind to what’s happening in front of them.

“Darren, let me go, I need to get out of here.” I growled at him. His grip only tightened.

“Char, don’t be like this. Please, just give me a chance.” He urged, staring me down with desperate eyes.

“I don’t want to! I don’t want you!” I shout above the music.

“Darren, what the fuck!” Leyah’s voice shot from behind me. I turn to see her enraged face and a burly bouncer making his way towards us in the distance, the bartender leading him to us. I feel stinging behind my eyes as so many emotions came over me  all at once because this situation has gotten way too out of hand.

“What are you doing? Let her go, you idiot!” Leyah joins in trying to separate us.

“Char, you can’t leave until you hear me out, please!”

“You’re hurting me!” I screamed just as the bouncer took hold of Darren’s arm and yanked it. Finally, I was free and clutching my arm, tears flowing down my face.

“Why are touching me? I didn’t do anything!”

The bouncer tried to restain Darren, but he fought back and the bouncer didn’t take kindly to that. In no time a fight broke out and we all backed away. Leyah tried to comfort me by wrapping her arms around my shoulders and I shrugged her off instantly, not wanting to be here anymore.

I slipped through the bodies and made my way out of the building onto the street, gulping in all the fresh night air that I could. I bend down, touching my hands to my knees, trying to get my breathing under control, counting backwards from ten. When I have enough confidence to roam, I quickly walk around the corner and hope the band doesn’t think to look for me here.

I never expected to want to hide from my friends in a time like this, but recently I’ve done it more than I would like to admit. I used to run to them for stuff like this and they would help however they could. It was never enough though. Before them I would bottle everything up because it felt like no one understood. No one does. Except Hoseok.

I would deal with the issue the only way I knew how. Sex and alcohol. I got the alcohol part down seeing as I’m still slightly woozy, leaning on a cement structure near the bar. The only thing I need now is an orgasm and all my problems should be solved.

I laugh bitterly and rub at the dry tears on my face.

You can’t fix this.

I can try.

I ignore my conscience and seek out my old method of numbing the pain as I pull out my phone and call uber to Hoseok’s place. I get myself together as much as I can in the back of the car, avoiding calls from my bandmates. My whole demeanor changed once I arrived and took the elevator up to his apartment.

I knock sternly on Hoseok’s apartment door, biting my lip in anticipation and restlessness. Thoughts of tonight's events playing over and over in my mind, making me jittery and somewhat uneasy. I shake it off, knowing Hoseok would give me just what I needed in a time like this.

He opens the door steadily, not expecting any visitors, and brightens when he sees me. “Oh Charlotte. Come in.” I do more than that.

I leapt into his arms, immediately attaching my lips to his in a feral manner, my fingers splayed out, running along the expanse of his muscular body.

“Mm, hello to you too.” He mumbled against my needy lips, but going along with it, kissing me back and caressing my body as well.

“I need you.” Is the only excuse I give, making brief eye contact before leaning down to suck at the juncture of his neck. He moans and plants kisses near my ear. I push him backwards in the direction of his bedroom, sitting myself on his lap, legs on either side of his hips as soon as he touches the bed.

“Have you been drinking?” He panted.

“Maybe.”

I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, nibbling on it hungrily as I grind my hips into his quickly hardening dick. I’m interrupted from my magical state when Hoseok takes a hold of the hair at the crown of my head and pulled gently. “You okay?” He asked slightly out of breath from our make out, seeking out my eyes.

I cup his face with both my hands and look him in the eyes intensely. “I will be…” My tongue slides out of my mouth to lick a slow stripe up his parted lips. “Once you fuck the shit outta me.” I look down at his glazed over eyes, raised eyebrows and sexy agape mouth, finding no signs of resistance, but of course everything about it said he saw right through me. But I could care less if it means getting what I want in this moment. He just nodded understandingly. “Okay.” He let his sinful tongue wet his lips before forcing my face to his to devour my mouth and the rest of my will power.

He made quick work of his plain white t-shirt, throwing it behind me and then unbuckled the overalls of my dress. I help the rest of the way, removing my shirt, leaving just my black lace bra. He takes a moment to admire the view and then he rips the cups of my bra down to suck my nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it and repeating his actions on my other breast. I moan out, arching my back into him, continuing to gain brilliant friction from grinding my crotch into his.

I kiss my way down his neck and chiseled front until I’m on my knees, in between his legs. I fondle his dick through his sweatpants graciously and all-but rip the garment from his hips. He cooperates, lifting his hips and pushes down his underwear as well. I waste no time with teasing, taking his head into my mouth as soon as it is presented to me. Hoseok instinctively threads his fingers into my thick hair and tugs slightly.

“Fuck, Charlotte.” He hissed through his teeth and began fucking into my mouth. I invite him in further, relaxing my throat and jaw, letting it go slack to feel him hitting the back of my throat repeatedly. I let him do as he pleased with my body, enjoying the feeling of making him feel good. I celebrate the fact that the tears that sting the back of my eyes are the result of mutual pleasure and not from being triggered by too many built up emotions. No. The only emotion I feel now is extreme euphoria  thanks to my affection for Hoseok. The yearning, the adulation, the complete infatuation I have with him. I look up through teary eyes at his angelic, gyrating form.

“Goddamn.” He groaned. “Such a dirty girl, looking at me like that while I fuck your little throat.” I moan around him and nod in agreeance as well as I could.

“You like that? Nngh...huh, baby?” He questioned as he forces my head down on his cock, my nose nuzzling his pubic hair. I gag trying to still manage a nod, my nails scratching at his thighs. He suddenly pulls my head back up by my hair, not giving me time to breathe as he captures my lips with his. Wetness pools in my underwear when he pulls my hair roughly to break the kiss.

“I almost came so hard down your throat just now.” He said heatedly, almost as out of breath as me. I whimper at the husky drawl of his voice and his fucked out gaze staring me down like he’s about to wreck me. “No, I got somewhere else I want it to go.” He looks me up and down, likcing his lips like he would tear me apart piece by piece any second now. And I was patiently awaiting that moment between his legs, loving the anticipation of it all.

“Where is that?” I rasped seductively, stroking his spit covered cock with both hands. He threw his head back quickly and regarded me cooly, almost scolding me for my actions with his eyes.

“Get on the bed.” He ordered, ignoring my question completely. I wanted to disobey, to rebel just to see what he would do. But my lust for him controlled me, forced me to rush to the top of the bed and remove the rest of my clothing at lightning speed. He just turned around and crept towards me slowly.

His hands glided along my legs smoothly, parting them further to make room for his glorious, naked body in between. He licked pleasant patterns into my thighs, moving deeper towards my incredibly wet core. He sucked one lip into his mouth before he spoke.

“Is this what you want?” I nodded eagerly. “What you barged in here demanding?” He cocks his head to the side and smirks a if to reprimand me.

“Yes.” I utter, guiltily.

“Not so bold now. Hm.” He sucks my other pussy lip into his mouth and pinches my thigh causing me to gasp.

“You know, dirty girls don’t usually deserve to get their pussy eaten. Do you?” He licks a swift stripe straight up my slit, slowing down once he reaches my clit. My breath hitches and I feel myself getting wetter at the filthy words falling from his mouth.

“Yes.” I breathed immediately. “Please eat my pussy, Hoseok. I need you, I need your mouth, making me feel good...you always make me feel so good, Hobi, please.” I pleaded, gyrating my hips into nothing in front of his face, just looking for some kind of relief and I was so close.

Hoseok seemed pleased with this performance and swoops down to flick his tongue against my clit at a vicious speed, making me throw my head back into the bed and wrap my legs around his head. He invites the gesture, dipping lower to take the bud into his mouth and attacking it that way as he held my thighs down.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Hoseok! Argh-oh my-yes!” I cried out helplessly, letting the immense pleasure take me away, his hair now in my vice grip. “Your fingers.” I blurted out, on the edge, my climax in sight. “Please give me your fingers.”

He didn’t hesitate to give me what I asked for, plunging two fingers into me and curling them forward to hit that spot that made my legs shake.

“Ah! Yes...I’m gonna cum.” I announce, the feeling of earth shattering pleasure fast approaching. Until Hoseok stopped what he was doing.

“What the fuck?” I whipped my head to look down at him and before I have time to register what’s happening, his cock was sinking into my heat and his hips were snapping into mine.

“Awk! Nnnnngh, fuck!”

I immediately fell off the edge, my body jerked as Hoseok’s dick collided with my g-spot, igniting violent explosions in the pit of my belly. My eyes cross and my vision goes blurry as I spasm against the sheets, focusing on the breathtaking pulsing of my hole around his cock. I arched my back into his chest and reach for anything to hold onto. Finding his neck, I wrapped my fingers around it and squeezed.

“Oh, shhhhit...that’s it baby, cum on my cock, just like that. So fucking good baby girl.” He growls into my ear, his gravelly voice sending vibrations through my fingers around his neck, causing warm electricity to course through my body. I gurggled mindlessly and subconsciously squeeze his cock at the erotic words.

He continues fucking into my lifeless body at a steady pace, breathing life into it with every thrust. My body recovers from before, but is inviting more overstimulating pleasure from Hoseok’s efforts to cum himself. So, I gather the energy to get him there.

I finally release my hold on his neck and grip his face to look me in the eyes. He gulps for air, still slamming into me steadily. “You fuck me so good, Hoseok. You made me cum so hard, baby. Only you.” Hoseok grunts, heavily. His thrusts becoming harder and faster, burying his dick inside me, staring into my eyes sensually.

“I can feel you pulsing inside me, ready to blow.” I purr, caressing his arms as they work and flex to propel him forward into me. He abruptly takes my legs to hike them over his shoulders, his dick delving deeper into me, creating a new delicious angle that has both of us moaning like mad.

“Holy mutherfuckingshit, you’re gonna make me cum again, fuck.” I spew, not being able to hold back with another intense orgasm barreling towards me.

“Can I cum in you baby?” He pants, his hips sputtering with how close he was to finishing.

“You can do whatever the fuck you want-uugh! Mother of fuck! No one’s ever fucked me like you do. I swear I could fuck you for the rest of my life. Oh my fucking God, I want you forever.” I whimpered, so fucking close to that white light.

“Argh, fuck!” He cums into me with so much force, I’m sent flying through time and space, frozen in this one moment dissolving into pure euphoria forever. I let out a shriek, my tense, jerking body unable to contain the pleasure coursing through it.

Hoseok collapsed onto me briefly, catching my lips in a passionate kiss before giving me room to drop my legs back down onto the bed. We couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves afterwards, neither of our mouths wanting to leave the other’s body. Moments later he pulled away from me and looked me over thoughtfully.

“What?” I whisper, the silence in the room making itself known now. He doesn’t answer immediately, still weighing whatever it was.

“Nothing.” He decides and places the covers over us, cuddling me. “We’re talking about that in the morning.” He points to the new bruise on my arm that Darren created and closed his eyes while I tried to formulate an excuse for what happened.

++++++++++++

I woke up to Hoseok tracing light patterns into the skin of my shoulder from behind me. I could feel his eyes on me, but not in a creepy way. I turn to lie on my back and regard his beautiful face with appreciation.

“Good morning.” He said, now tracing patterns on my sheet clad stomach on his side and resting on his head in his hand. His eyes were focused on what he was doing, almost like they were distracting him from something else.

“Morning.” I replied, studying his face. He looked deep in thought, his brows slightly furrowed and his lip tucked itself under his teeth as he thought of his next words.

He opened his mouth to speak, pausing in even more thought before he found the words. “Last night was very fun for me, but...what exactly happened?”

Jeez, so soon?

I too, distracted myself with his movement on my body as I tried to figure out what to say.

“What made you come over here...like that?” He wondered, concerned.

I sigh. “Uh, at the gig yesterday...Darren, he…” Hoseok’s movements stop momentarily at the mention of my guy friend/roadie and then continue again. I glance up at his face that was now filled with malice. A look that didn’t look good on his angelic features. “What did he do?” He whispered sternly.

I swallow nervously. “He...he told me he loved me.” I force out in a small voice. The words sounded so foreign coming from my mouth, a person who doesn’t even deserve love. It was like I was finally coming to terms with it after running from it since it happened.

Hoseok’s movements stopped again and his hand lifted off of my body by millimeters, in shock. He rested his hand on the bed and I look up at him to see his reaction. His face is disgruntled and conflicted. I can just see the gears turning in his head.

“And do you...do you feel anything for him?” He spoke, not meeting my eyes.

“No.” I say immediately. “Of course not...not in that way. Not when I have you, how could you even think that?” I asked incredulously, grabbing his hand and placing our joined hands on my stomach.

He just shrugs, his bothered expression gone. “Because he’s built, good looking and you could have anyone you want.” He forces a laugh.

I lift my hand to stroke his soft cheek. “Well I want you so none of that matters.” He finally looked into my eyes and smiled genuinely, swooping down to kiss me firmly. “And for the record, you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met.” I say when we part. He blushed slightly and smiled wider in thanks.

“So that’s why you came all the way here so...excuse my French, out of it? And what happened to your arm?”

“Yes. I didn’t exactly react too well when he told me...I tried to leave, but...he held onto my arm to keep me there.” I relay calmly, analyzing the bruise that’s only gotten worse since last night. Hoseok’s look of animosity was back.

“He did this? What a fucking asshole! Who does he think he is?” Hoseok spewed a few more insults before I climbed my way on top of him. He was now on his back, my hands on his bare chest not caring to toy with the sheet that fell from mine.

“Hey, forget about him. The bouncer took care of him...I think. He just got a little passionate, we were drinking and hey, I’m fine.” I smile to convince him.

“But he hurt you and you’re okay with it?” Hoseok asked hesitantly.

“I didn’t say I was okay with it, he and I will have words, but I am fine.” I leaned down to kiss him. My lips moved against his and his hands reacted by gripping my butt. I let go after a few moments. “And I would like if we stopped talking about this for a while.” I request, giving my best puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, fine.” He relented, stroking my face with his hands and staring into my eyes. “May I ask one more hard hitting question, though?” His profound features didn’t match his joking tone, I had no idea what to expect.

“Go for it.”

“Did you mean it? What you said last night? About...forever?” His eyes were intense with curiosity, like he had everything riding on this. I do some quick thinking of my own. Hoseok is everything I’ve ever wanted in a man, that much is obvious. And as much as I say I have trouble with commitment and intimacy, I’ve already committed myself to Hoseok. We weren’t seeing anyone else, nor did we want to, plus we were infatuated with each other. I can’t ignore this fact. Even though I have some issues that needed work, that doesn’t mean I have to let it hold me back from life.

“Yes...I don’t know about forever, no one does, but...” I answer, honestly. I watch him smile brightly in front of me, basking in his warm glow. “I wanna be with you, Hoseok.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You are with me.” He grabs my hand and squeezes.

“Like be with you, be with you.” I thread our fingers together in the air, gazing into his beautiful brown eyes.

“But I thought you said you didn’t want to...you know...labels?” There it was, that look of hopeful curiosity that Hoseok wore best and that always made me grin.

“I know, I know...I’m just done with letting my issues control me.” He smiles proudly, resting a hand on my cheek and stroking, gently. “So, Hoseok, if you’ll have me, I would love to be your...your g-girlfriend.” I fought back the bile building up with the sound of Hoseok’s comforting laughter. He grasps my cheeks and brings me down to his level, putting our foreheads together fervently.

“I think I’m supposed to ask you that.” He laughed.

“Well, when you do, I’ll say yes. Easy as that.”

He nods happily. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want you pushing yourself too far.”

I shake my head. “It’s the only way I’ll learn...and I wanna learn with you.”

Hoseok regarded me with a look of longing in his eyes and kissed me once again with so much emotion, it spread warmth throughout my entire body and tendrils of electricity to the tips of my fingers and toes. “Okay....okay.”

The two of us lay there whispering sweet nothings until I heard my phone buzzing from across the room and I sigh, figuring it was time to stop ignoring my friends. Hoseok properly stretches and I dangle my body off the side of the bed to reach for my phone and check my messages.

Several calls and texts from each of the girls riddled my screen, but I was surprised to find no messages or calls from Darren. I settle back into bed and Hoseok attaches himself to me again as I call Leyah back to check in.

“Char, hey, are you okay?” She picks up right away and her troubled voice filled my ears.

“Yes, Leyah, I’m fine.”

She sighs in relief. “So I can assume you’re with J-Hope right now?”

“Yes, I’m at Jay’s right now.”

“Okay, well, you might want to get back soon.” She said nervously.

“Why is that?” My skeptical tone caused Hoseok’s eyes to pop open in intrigue.

“Uh, Darren kinda got arrested last night after you left and we’re gonna go bail him out.”

I rolled my eyes and rubbed a hand around my face in annoyance. Well that explains the lack of messages. “No, you all can go bail him out, I’m going to stay here.” I say sternly. Hoseok moved to rest on his elbows beside me, studying my stressed out face.

“Are you sure? He mentioned wanting to see you.”

“I could give a fuck what he wants right now.” I spat. She just sighed. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you...later then.” She said dejectedly. I groan, hoping I don’t regret what I’m about to do. Her depressed tone shot right through me.

I know Leyah just the best for her friends and for me to just stop hiding and get this over with, so I figured I’d do her a favor.

“Wait, Leyah...I’ll go. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay. See you then. Thank you.” We hung up and I ran my fingers through my hair roughly.

“Is everything okay?” Hoseok asked rubbing my arm comfortingly.

“No.” I answer easily, knowing the truth. “But I have to go. I’m just gonna take a shower first if that okay?”

“Yeah of course. Is it okay if I join you?” I just pecked his lips and nodded.

The shower was quick seeing as I had somewhere to be and I threw on a white t-shirt, black skinny jeans and the Doc Martens I wore last night.

On our way out, I see the glass on the nightstand from yesterday in the same place that I left it and decided to clean it up. Hoseok continues to gather his things in the bedroom as I make my way to the kitchen. I stop in my tracks when I see a familiar figure standing at the counter with his back to me. His height, shoulders, back muscles and even his hair (that was now a tinted, dark red) were all very visceral, creating flashes of so many memories in my brain.

My heart rate accelerates and my world begins to spin when the stranger finally turns around and I find that he’s no stranger at all.

His gorgeous face scrunches up in confusion and complete awe at the sight of me. “Charlotte?” His rugged yet celestial voice traveled over to me, sending a sinister chill down my spine.

“Yoongi?” I whisper brokenly.

“Oh, Yoongi hyung, you’re back!” I straighten up and blink away the blurriness in my eyes at the sound of Hoseok’s voice behind me.

“Charlotte, I see you’ve met  my temporary room mate, Yoongi. Yoongi this is my girlfriend, Charlotte.”

My heart leapt into my throat as the glass I was holding clattered to the floor, exploding into pieces.

[1stbeers]

Lunch on Gilman Street: Berkeley, CA

On the last day of my trip to the bay area I had nowhere in particular to be until my flight home that night, so I wandered the streets of Berkeley for a couple hours. I wasn’t totally aimless though as I had a mission to see 924 Gilman Street, the D.I.Y. venue that over the past three decades has become iconic in punk culture for birthing bands like Operation Ivy, Green Day, more.

The venue was pretty easy to pass up if you weren’t looking for it.There is no signage or fliers shouting to the world “Hey! Did you Green Day used to play here before they could sell out stadiums?” because selling out to major record corporations and forsaking quality and grit of the songs for fuck-tons of money is not exactly encouraged in the scene. It was only marked with a simple 924 and covered in band stickers and fliers for shows taking place in the future somewhere else. Luckily for me, a 942 Gilman Street Project volunteer clad in punk attire (studs, spikes, patch covered vest, etc.) was sitting on the ground outside eating a burger. They let me in and gave me a free shirt for which I am very grateful.

With 15 minutes successfully killed poking around the empty venue and explaining to volunteers that I wasn’t from around there, I left and finally noticed the fine establishment right next door. Gilman Street Brewing Co.

Their brewery is located, as the companies name suggests, on Gilman Street in North Berkeley CA but they also have a taproom in nearby Daly City (just south of San Francisco). I started with a Hot Carl Hazy IPA. It’s 7.7% ABV but did not have the bitterness that accompanies most heavy IPAs. Instead it was surprisingly sweet and floral. In the glass it was an translucent gold color which really put the “hazy” in hazy IPA.

I followed it up with Cubano sandwich and a Green Eyed Devil American Lager. This is just an all around classic beer. I love when craft breweries still take the time to keep it simple and pump out Lagers. Green Eyed Devil is 5.5% ABV, making a little stronger than your average domestic draft, but keeps that party beer in 30 rack flavor. The bartender even said it was their homage to PBR! Perhaps it’s not for you snobs out there but it still blew PBR out of the water.

[weaselle]

Story Time

Not too long ago, I posted a brief explanation of my siblings ( http://weasowl.tumblr.com/post/177478767230/springdday-ommanyte-does-anyone-genuinely ) I ended that with “Also, my origins are steeped in mystery and my siblings are actually my cousins by blood, but that’s another story.” I wrote out the long story about my mysterious origins and details about my life and experiences, and a computer mishap erased it as though it had never been. Again. I don’t know if it’s something in me or something in the world at this point, but I guess I’m not ready/supposed to tell y’all that much about me. So I’m going to tell you about my Grandmother and her children instead. No pictures or anything this time.

My Grandmother was left-handed and the reason I love cooking and definitely some kind of Being. Her title was The Grandma. She had 4 great grandchildren by the time she died, and so her daughters became Grandma, but she was THE Grandma. She had this way about her, like she was incredibly present, but also paying attention to everything in the whole world. And then sometimes (notably when you fucked up) it was like she pulled her attention off all those things and put the whole thing on you; it was very unsettling. And she had the Voice, which she almost never used. The last time Grandma traveled on an airplane with us, we were going though security and she couldn’t go through the metal detectors because by then she couldn’t get out of the wheelchair for longer than twenty seconds at a time. The TSA agent said she was going to search her or pat her down instead, and reached for my Grandmother. And Grandmother said, in the Voice  “Don’t touch The Grandma” The TSA agent blinked and looked at grandma’s eldest daughter (a celtic witch if ever there was one) who merely shrugged and said “...don’t touch the grandma”. TSAgent hesitated as if about to reach forward and insist, thought better of it, called TSA Supervisor over. TSA Supervisor explained everything to The Grandma - it’s just a quick pat-down, everybody who can’t go through the detectors has it done, they won’t even ask her to stand - and then reached forward to pat down my grandmother “Don’t. Touch. The Grandma” TSA Supervisor’s hands stopped as if hitting glass. She looked confusedly back and forth between the TSA agent and my grandmother for a second, and then the confusion left her face and she stepped aside, looked at the TSA agent and said “Don’t touch the Grandma” and waived us through security. They didn’t even scan the rest of us It’s a shame she couldn’t fly anymore after that, she loved to fly; when K’s son died, she married P, a WW2 B52 crewman who taught her to pilot small planes, and they would fly up and down the coast to any cities they wanted to visit - she knew the West Coast in a way few people do. (note, one of the only things I know about my paternal grandfather, the man who married the Japanese grandmother I’ve never met, is that he was a German soldier...that man’s son joined the US air force, and became my biological father) One morning in the deserts of Nevada a year after P’s death she woke me up and said “get dressed, were going to into town to the casino; P visited me in a dream last night and told me I’d win a video poker jackpot with a royal flush today” and we drove into town so she could spend fifteen minutes playing video poker. I say fifteen minutes, because after fifteen minutes she hit her jackpot with a royal flush in hearts, and we went back home. She used to sit in her chair in her living room with her back to the kitchen wall, and I’d go to leave the kitchen and I’d hear her from the other room “don’t you leave my kitchen mat like that” and I’d look over my shoulder at the mat in front of the sink, and sure enough, it would be all rumpled up; sorry grandma.  Grandma and I shared a birthmark, a red stain I won’t describe fully. And my grandmother and I were both adopted. Let me explain. My Grandmother was adopted by a nice family. And then that family all died, and she was adopted AGAIN. She married an Irish American, a man whose father I am named after: K, who came here from Ireland to work the Alaskan gold rush. She and her husband lived with K a while, and this is a story about that: Every Sunday. great grandpa K would go off on his own for a couple hours to “walk in the woods”. Grandma followed him one day. K walked into the woods, packed a pipe, sat down with his back to a tree, and took a small handful of nuts and seeds and fruits and leaves out of his shirt pocket. He scattered them around. Soon, as if expecting him, several animals came and helped themselves. The squirrels climbed all over him, on his head even. The raccoons sat in his lap. The birds sat on his knees and shoulders and in his beard and peered into his face. The deer checked his jacket for more snacks. After they hung out for about an hour, they all went on their way. Then K smoked his pipe and went home. Grandma and K’s son had 5 kids. One died as a child. The eldest became an ER nurse and a savant witch. She would never admit she is a witch, but there’s a horseshoe over her door (not the front door, mind you, but the door she actually uses) and she’s the one who taught me to always leave a single spider in your house when you clean. She has a natural way with plants and animals -  the deer eat everything but her herb garden, which isn’t even fenced. This year one of them stayed in her backyard for nearly two months raising twins to be big enough to take back to the herd. She recognizes individual squirrels and birds and knows their personalities and habits and things about their families. And of course as an ER and ICU nurse, she’s a hell of a healer.  The youngest was a witch, but sadly neglected, remained immature. Still, she had talents. She could fool people and make them laugh as easy as breathing, like some kind of glamour. Every long line of strangers she ever waited in became a party among friends. Could literally smell if you were lying to her. As in, she’d lean close and take a couple deep sniffs and then be like “Nope. Tell me, where did you really go after school?”  The only brother became a wandering holy man of sorts. Used to hitch-hike around the country in robes stuff with a small, like, cult; then quit them to just grow his own holy experience. He died in his 30s. And the middle sister was my mother. She was double jointed and very dyslexic, and everyone says she was incredibly gifted in many ways. She did intricate artwork in ink, fractal gardens and faux woodgrain that was made of salvador dali faces, stuff like that. She was self taught on the piano, used to just walk up to a piano and play songs she made up on the spot that sounded how she was feeling and little crowds would gather. Made her own exercise equipment. Could pick up an accent within minutes and become semi-conversational in days. When I was two and she was too poor to feed me she taught me how to go around a restaurant to each table and ask super cute if I could try a bite of their food. She had me with a half Japanese guy in the Air Force (he didn’t stick around). Then when I was about three, she sent me to live with her eldest sister, because her life got too, ah, interesting. Like, her partner had a hit put out on them. It wasn’t safe for me. By the time I was six it all caught up with her, and she died in an accident when she jumped out of the passenger side of a car and tried to run away as it stopped at an intersection.  That’s when her eldest sister adopted me. So here I am, same birthmark as my psychic grandmother, orphaned son of a savant creative criminal and a Japanese-American soldier, named after my Irish, gold hoarding, bearded, pipe-smoking beastmaster great-grandsire; raised by a celtic witch, and filled with a burning desire to be instrumental in creating a new and more humane age of humanity, where everybody has more power to live whatever kind of life they want while reenforcing core values of earth-garden stewardship and educated love/care for all. When I reached adulthood, I nearly stopped aging physically (I’m 40, people typically guess between 25 and 30). I’m really good with animals, and I have a unique relationship with Lady Luck. I have all the witch tools, but they’re just what I use in my life - like, I have one nice specially chosen chef’s knife. It’s the knife I use for everything, To me, THAT’s an athame, not some dragon themed chrome thing you put on a shelf and take down to wave around on “holidays”. If it’s really a holiday, and my athame is really a knife, then it’s being used to fillet or dice something for a holiday meal. It is special because I use it to make every meal I cook, and I’d truly feel lost without it. That’s just my personal brand of witching, mind, you do you. I get these weird moods that fill me durring which I can charm almost anyone to help me in almost any way I want, which is actually sort of frightening, but not while it’s happening.  So, clearly, I’m either some kind of changeling and the chosen one, or I should seek professional help

[ironbound-praetorium]

A Place to Start Over

Tirisfal still smelled like blight and ash even days after the Horde and Alliance clashed at the gates of Lordaeron, but it didn’t deter any member of the Praetorium from venturing out in the hopes of finding those left behind to ruin. Raelin Dawnsorrow, above all of them, had stood at first hand witness to the atrocities committed under red and blue banner. As days bled into one another , he raced across the tree line in an endless grid pattern ferrying civilians back to the trio of ships that hovered over the landscape.  Only when he was commanded to sleep did he fall into his rack and nightmares about those he hadn’t been able to reach in time.

 The Ironfist had a soft heart, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it was directly centered on the children of the world, as he hardly thought it was fair they had to deal with adult concept like war and unnecessary death.  It was a direct result of his own tragic past with regards to his younger siblings whose ashes now lay peacefully in the Dawnsorrow mausoleum. Those losses had driven him near to madness, but purpose had been found in knowing he could stop others from suffering the same fate… if only he was strong and fast enough.

 Thankfully, Raelin had an ace up his sleeve when it came to the speed necessary to grid out Tirisfal and search block by imaginary block for those left in the wake of the war machine. Dalis, the Ironbound protodrake had been encountered in Ulduar when the world’s heroes sought the release of the Titan stronghold from the grip of the Old Gods, but it had been fate which brought the two together.  They’d weathered a hundred battles together since that day, and not once had their trust wavered, even when words between them were entirely absent.

 It was that trust that kept Raelin steady as Dalis veered hard to the right and made a beeline for a outcropping of trees along the eastern border of Tirisfal.  Shifting his weight, the ginger elf laid flat against the drakes back as the air rushed over him and bright blue eyes scanned the ground for whatever target they were after. It could have been up to three miles away knowing how keen draconic eyesight was, but the pungent smell of decay and smoke signaled they were far closer.  

 Their target was seen as the drake maneuvered to a clearing a short distance away, landing with a thud that shook the ground and caused loose and burning limbs to fall. Dalis wasn’t even fully settled to his haunches before Raelin was off his back and striding for the burned out remnants, his loud voice sure and strong as he announced his arrival; a necessity given the volatile climate he was current in.

“I’m here to help! Hello? Anyone here?”

 Long strides carried him up the broken stone path, though the moment he reached the door long ears flicked in response to the sudden knowledge that he wasn’t alone. Raelin knew better than to make any sudden moves, as war gave way to paranoia for many, and he rather liked his head attached to his body.

 “Just here looking for civilians that need help…Silver Hand…promise I’m not here to cause any ha- oh shit…” Turning around slowly as he spoke, the Ironfist’s eyes went wide as his ‘company’ was viewed clearly.

Five childlike figures clad in mud streaked rags formed a half circle around the Ironfist as the scent of ichor stung his nose.  Undeath had not been kind to any of them, as protruding bones and missing parts came more clearly into view. Ligaments and sinew hung limply from one’s arm where clearly an axe had tried to lop off the offending limb, while another’s cheeks were stained black from the dangling eye that clung only by a bundle of nerves. Their injuries were substantial, yet not one of them seemed to register the pain, as no doubt the shock of everything they had seen had muddled their minds to the most base of responses.

 “Hey there…” Raelin began, slowly beginning to crouch down in order to not tower over the diminutive figures. “M’dragon over there seemed to think you guys needed some help, yeah?” His voice, while usually littered with vulgarity became soft and quiet as he offered a hand outward. “M’name’s Raelin...”

 The smallest of them, a little girl who couldn’t have been anymore than 6 when she rose as a Forsaken, began to take a step forward as if she would accept Raelin at his word but was blocked by the lanky boy who stepped in front of her in a protective way. His spindly fingers curled against his tattered pants as hollow eyes stared down the large man while the others seemed more fixated on Dalis, who had intentionally gone very still as to not frighten the poor creatures.

 “Your eyes are blue…” the ‘leader’ said, his raspy voice cracking as if he was perpetually stuck in the throes of puberty.

 “Mmm, they are...but not here under the Alliance banner, see?” Moving cautiously, the Ironfist shifted upwards to tug on the Silver Hand tabard that was displayed over his chest, tapping one finger against the closed fist. “I don’t much like red and blue, always preferred yellow… like in sunflowers? My Ma used to grow them in our gardens back in Eversong when I was younger…”

 Skeptical to be sure, the boy took a step forward to inspect the tabard with a narrowed gaze while the small girl’s voice piped up in garbled tones. “I like flowers...”

“Yeah? My favorites are blue roses…” Raelin offered, casually glancing to the others who remained wary of him as he reached to flip up the edge of his tabard where the aforementioned flower was embroidered.

The tension in the air was palatable, as it always seemed to be when dealing with the Forsaken, as they were not at all inclined towards dealing with the living. Drawing in a deep breath, his forearms settled on his knees as he looked between them all with a faint smile cast across his rugged features. “How about you let me take a look at all your hurts, and then we see about getting you to a safe place, hrm?”

 “We’re not fucking children, you idiot!” Taken back by the temper that came out of nowhere, Raelin’s eyes shifted back to the leader with both brows raised in response.  It hadn’t dawned on him until that moment that they’d been stuck in this perpetual state of youth for gods knew how long and that he’d gone about the whole situation in entirely the wrong way.

 Lifting his hands again, a helpless shrug was given with a crooked grin. “Oh, well good… means I don’t gotta watch my fucking mouth. Guess you’re just going to have to forgive this big dumb elf for making that mistake and let me make it up to ya, yeah?”

“And how th’fuck is some Quel’dorei bastard going to do that, hrm? Drag us off and put us in chains to be held at the mercy of the Boy-King?” countered the leader of the small group as steps were taken closer to the elf in defense of his companions. “No-fucking-way that shit is happening. We didn’t want no war t’begin with!”

“Actually, was kinda thinking we’d go take a little ride on my dragon to a big shiny ship in the sky… get ya injuries seen to and a hot meal? I mean… if chains are your thing, good on ya… but not exactly too pleased with ol’Anduin and his puppet master Greymane at the moment, so...” Raelin kept his tone nonchalant as he moved to lean against what remained of the house, again holding his hands out to the small contingent.

“Fuck that flea-ridden asshole, deserves to be skinned and mounted!”

“Well…I can’t argue with that…” Raelin laughed which seemed to ease the group from the precipice of violence.  “However, none of us are getting away with that anytime soon… so, how about we make sure we get to see that day come and raise an ale to the ol’bastards death? “

“Where will we go?” questioned the ‘little girl’ as she moved closer to Raelin, reaching to flip up the edge of his tabard and trace the rose stitched neatly into the fabric.

“Most of your people I’ve been giving lifts to end up in Silvermoon…” the Ironfist stated, watching their displeased reactions scrunch up little noses and set their lips into grim lines.  “….but I mean if you’re really after getting away from the war, I know a pretty decent spot to start over…”

 “At what cost?” Another of the ‘children’ asked, stepping next to the girl to put a protective arm around her shoulders.

 “No cost… just have to want to live in peace and not play into the faction crap the world would have you believe is necessary…” Raelin said, shrugging his shoulders as he shifted to accommodate the curious inspection of his tabard.

 “How do we know you’re not feeding us a line of shit and plan to throw us in the Stockades?” It was a viable and logical question that, unfortunately, Raelin didn’t have an answer to.

 “You don’t…suppose it’s a leap of faith in that regard. Just going to have to trust this big stupid elf if you want to get the fuck outta here and away from the bullshit going on. Question is…. Do you really want to?” Shared looks and silent understanding brought all five to nod their heads as Raelin crouched down to look eye to eye with the small girl and offered the crook of his arm as any gentleman might, causing a tittering of laughter to slip out in raspy tones.  “Shall we then, my lady?”

 One by one, the Ironfist lifted the injured and tattered Forsaken ‘children’ onto the back of the massive protodrake and gave them each a small loop of leather to hold onto. After climbing on himself, the Praetorium communication stone was pulled from his pocket as Dalis lifted into the air. “Commander, got an intake of five Forsaken on the way… give Bri a heads up for me?”

 “Bri’s on patrol with Cora…but I’ll let Tanner know to give the medbay a heads up” came Maladir’s tired voice as the small party raced across the skies towards the awaiting Sanctuary City ships and what was hopefully a decent and peaceful future for the refugees at the Ironfist’s back.

(( @sanctuary-city-wra @kelladen @silverfall-patriarch for mentions/involvement))

[mymysdailylife]

A Dream So Real

I was leaving Daly City and remember coming home and looking at the buildings. My house was the same but everything else around it looked like the suburbs.

I knew it was different but I didn't question it. I keep going on my walk home and noticed that someone was following me. I don't turn around. I just keep going. I take my phone out, it has a brass knuckle hanging on the side. I put it on my hand and act like I'm on the phone. I have a conversation by myself and try to hear the persons footsteps. They start to sound closer than they were before. Did they knew what I was doing ? I was maybe ten minutes away from home when I suddenly feel a tap on my shoulder. It's Jaime. He was bigger than in real life. He looked scarier. I was shook so I "end" the call and say hi to him. I ask why has he been following me and he says why did you not do anything. I could have been trouble, little did I know that he actually was the trouble.

It didn't start until maybe like two days later. I was talking with Silky and kept telling her that I was not feeling safe at all and I am never the type to be scared EVER. She lives down the block where Eddie and Evelyn are supposed to be living. Jaime lived three blocks away if you count the one where Upper Playground the store is. In my dreams after the store were uphill.

I don't remember how I got to his house but I was tied up. I still had my phone with me which is like the first wrong move. Duh. His house was empty. It only had rope, tape, gallons of gasoline on the floor. A table full of cigarettes butts, bongs, different strains of weed pre-rolls, empty bottles of beer and alcohol, scratchers, change everywhere, coupons, big gulp cups and a gun. There was also some weird big disc with cuffs for hands and legs in the corner of his room. It was clear that he was not doing good. I had tape over my mouth and all I could do was wiggle like a worm. He came home with take out food, enough for two. He was talking to me while eating but I couldn't talk back because of the tape. He kept talking for over an hour telling me why he was doing this to me but all I heard and understood was 'I'm crazy and obsessed'. I did not like that at all like helll nooo what the fuck !

After he finished eating he said I could eat next and he took the tape off, untied my arms and hands and I started stuffing my mouth. I laugh because I never thought I would be in this situation. He asks what is so funny and I tell him after I swallow my food. He starts laughing crazy, and tells me that he has this whole plan if anything ever goes wrong. That made me go quiet. I had finished and told him I had to use the bathroom, he untied my legs only because he knows there was no where for me to go. That didn't matter. He showed me towards the bathroom, I went in and saw that his bathroom window was so small and I thought damn it. I used the bathroom and texted Silky what has been going on and I told her to meet me by my house asap. I put my phone away wash my hands and go back out. As I go out I see him and his creepy smile. All his teeth showing full on smile. I don't know how this makes someone so happy but on the other hand if I was to do something crazy I would be happy as well...He laughs because of my face and asks why so serious ? I gave a little smirk. Little did he know how my mind worked. I was just another crazy person he had locked up in his house with so many things I could use against him and escape. I was thinking throughout the time he had me tied up. I know that he is not stupid enough for him to let him keep me untied so I kept thinking. All I did was sleep, think, and eat. At least he was feeding me. The food wasn't so bad since it was always out but it sucks when he gets something I don't like. I'm a picky person.

Time passed and I was once again back in the bathroom and this time I had my period. Great... I opened the door and I tell him and he did not want to do anything about it. I said that if he doesn't go and buy me my necessities I will smear my blood everywhere. He ignored me and went out and so I did what I had told him. The bathroom walls were covered with red marks everywhere. My flannel and the rest of my clothes were dirty with my blood as well but I didn't care because I noticed that he left the house without tying me up again like he always does. That was when I decided to get ready. I put more blood in the walls and I a small knife my brass knuckles and stood behind the door. I decided that that was stupid so I decide to leave. I start running down the hills and called Silky I told her that I finally got out and to meet me in front of my house again. She said she will and I started making my way home. I haven't been home in a while so I was scared and feeling weird going back after my family not knowing anything about me.

As I started the corner to where my house is I see Silky walking up and I start waving at her. It looked like such a really long block that it felt forever to get to her, until I hear my name being yelled at from behind me. It couldn't be I tell myself. I turn around and he has a gun and a plastic bag. The pads...he had gone to the store. For pads and tampons and other stuff. My period. Wow I think. He yells at me and starts threatening me and then he starts shooting towards me but misses and I yell at Silky to run away. I have no where to go and I felt like he was going to kill me right out in the open. Like I said the block was really long so he was still far away from me. As I am running I start trying to reach for my keys and for my keys and noticed that I did not have them.

FUCK.

I start looking for somewhere to hide but there were any cars barely parked. I was going to die. I'm not afraid of dying but I would rather do it myself. As I was thinking that, someone is getting off a taxi and gets some packaging from the trunk. That was the only idea I had at the moment. I run there and he keeps getting closer. He shoots and after three bullets he shot my leg. Ouch damn it ! I jump in and apologize the lady and to hurry to her home before he kills me, she was shook seeing me covered in blood and dirty and with no shoes. I would be too, a girl in the middle of the night running away and getting into the back of a random car. She just stood there and I was in a hurry and so I gently pushed her away and said thank you quietly. I close the trunk door thingy and the car starts driving away. I was free. Going god know where and in the back of a taxi where anyone can find me or die of shortness of breath. I was able to push the back of the seats and the driver was startled, he was speechless. I told him to keep on driving. It was quiet for like two minutes when he started asking me where I could go but that was the problem I had no where to go and no money. I was fucked. He said the money was not a problem but home would be better to go back to. The thing is if I did and he ever sees me again which he would since he doesn't live far I know he wouldn't give another chance and would definitely kill me no doubt in that. I had no other choice. I had no money to get out of the country, I was injured and then to email my family and explain everything. Call the police, there is evidence and witnesses. I was fucked once again. I just told him to drive me around all night and at six in the morning to drop me off at an alley away from home. He did that once it hit six in the morning. I am bleeding out my leg, my vagina, and emotionally bleeding from the inside. What the fuck was wrong with Jaime. That was literally the only thing I was thinking about. I would not care if it was some random person but I've known this boy since we were twelve. I was shot in the bottom part of my leg thigh area but in the back so I don't know really know how to explain that. It was a bitch to really walk and with no shoes too. My feet were killing me, as I'm walking down the alley a car out of no where pulls up with its headlights shinning on me. Why are they so bright ! At that moment i knew it was him again. I could not escape him no matter what. Was he following the taxi driver and I ? Was he just randomly driving around ? I don't know, he was always in the house with me, he would only go out to get food or if it was 'something important' but he never took his car. He always walked.

Always.

I start trying to run but I'm in a limp. I was so close to escaping at least with no fucking bullet in me but it's like he knew. I noticed before leaving the house that there was no gun but I never thought about it. He had no gun this time so he didn't plan to kill me or maybe its hidden. I still had the knife and my brass knuckles. As I'm limping away as fast as I can I pull out the knife and hear his stomps coming over me. He pushes me to the floor and I do not move. He flips me around and punches me in the face. As he does that I move my right hand and stab him in the gut. Deep in there that he screams so loud it actually hurt my ears. He hits me again and I hit his face with my right hand again with all the power I got with the weapon around my hand. I hear something break. I laugh and get up. I jammed the knife more with my non injured leg. He squirms in pain. I am so close to getting out of the alley but I can barely see and I'm in more pain than I was before. He had really hurt me. I knew it was impossible to get away now. I trip over my own foot and go down to the floor once again. Ugh dumbass ! He picks me up and I can't do anything about it. I noticed that he still has the knife inside him, that will fucking hurt when he takes it out. You're welcome I say with a smile and I knock out. I guess he takes me into his car and drives back to his house. I woke up on a couch. He now has me in a couch...it looks a bit more nicer. Why is he doing this ? He is tending my wounds. I tell him to fuck off and he says no because he doesn't want me to die. I am so fucking confused. Let me die. Let me die. Let me die. Let me fucking die. He had already taken out the bullet out of my body, I don't know how but he did it, I guess when I was knocked out. I still couldn't see well and my body was aching. I think four days went by sitting on my own blood still on my period but feeling better just lying so I'm stuck in the couch. This time I had no phone. I had no weapon. Everything that was there before was not in sight at all. Did he hide it or get rid of it ? The walls were still stained and it still smelled like how it did the first time he trapped me in here. I noticed that there was a pile of envelopes on the table that were not there before and it has not been that long since I was here. I asked him about those and he said important stuff. Again. Never telling me anything. I guess that's okayy. He leaves again and since I'm 'injured' he did not even bother tying me up because I'll have nowhere to go especially far enough that he can not find me. He was wrong. I go to the bathroom and finally get a tampon put it in with all of my body and clothes covered in blood, a lot of blood... I wrap my leg a bit more tighter. He seems to be taking long so I start lurking. All of the doors were locked, I had almost given up when I saw a hammer on the side of the fridge. I go to the sink first and put my mouth over the faucet and start drinking the nice cold water. It was so refreshing. I have not eaten nor drank so it felt so good going down my throat. I stop, wipe my mouth and get the hammer. This time I was done and I was going to do what he wanted to do with me in the first place. I had a laugh attack because this was so sick. A killer trying to kill someone that doesn't know what I am capable of doing. This time I stick with the first idea I had before; stand behind the front door. He doesn't come for a while and with my injuries standing was getting so hard to stand up for more longer. As I was thinking that he opens the door and starts throwing boxes and boxes and boxes. The first thing that came in mind was that he was going to kill me and put me in those boxes, but they did sound a bit heavy so there was stuff in there. As he walks in he calls for my name. I don't say anything so he yells my name again but with aggression this time. No saying again. He starts heading towards where the couch is and I start moving in closer to him. Since I have no shoes he can't hear me and I swing the hammer right to his head. 

He falls to the ground and yelps. I thought I knocked him until I see him get up and he starts crawling to get support from one of the boxes. I rush to him turn him around take off my flannel and start strangling him. He has already been hit in the head really hard so choking him should be easier to die quicker. I smile the same creepy smile he was giving me while he is looking at me. At that point I actually put all the strength I had in me and I see him trying to reach for my own neck. I push down my elbows to his chest and he starts changing color and his arms are slowly falling down. You should've picked someone else bitch I say smiling as he finally gives up his last breath. I start laughing with my head up high. Psychotic laughing. I finally stop and as I bring my head down I see with the corner of my eye someone looking at me. Shit Jaime never closed the fucking door. He has a poker face and then gives me a little smirk. My brain is stuck in confusion. Is he a weirdo like Jaime ? Why the fuck is he looking at me like that. He starts walking in and I stand up and grab a knife that popped out of no where. He closes the door and I tell him that if he gets closer I'll kill him too. He laughs and responds with I'm here to help you dispose of him if you'd like. you know...because of the state you're in. I tell him I'm perfectly fine and he says no I meant your body. I had forgotten about that. I say sure but I don't want him buried. I wanted people to know who he was and what had happened so we were sitting there thinking with his dead body laying there in the middle of us. I get up and reach into his pants and start looking for keys. Everything he has locked up has a key somewhere and I know they have to be all together. I find them and its with his cars keys as well. I check the car first to see if anything that is mines is there. I find my broken phone. That sucks. I find my keys, my brass knuckles and Jaime's gun. I leave it all in there and I do not touch it. I go back inside the house and start going door to door opening and every room was pretty and painted and full of home furniture. It didn't look like that at all before. I checked all five rooms and the last one was at the very back where the bathroom is. I opened it and see everything he had before. Bottles all piled up, the weird cuff disc, th gallons of gasoline, the rope, the tape, everything. I call the guy to come help me. He starts taking everything out and I tell him to help me put them were they were before. He did and it looked the same again. The blood, the scent of cigarettes the bottles of alcohol. Everything back into place. I open the boxes and it is all home decorations and cups and shit for the house. Why the fuck was he throwing them. This and the rooms got me thinking though because they did not look like that in the beginning so I start looking through the envelopes, they were all opened and they were letters from his family saying the house should be clean and that they were coming home soon. Very soon. Three days soon. I only had three days. I put them back inside the envelopes and back on the table. I start talking to the guy I know but I don't.

The plan was hang him outside the tree right in front of his house. You can't see it unless you look directly in that angle. We got the rope and made a noose, the flannel was still on him and I did not plan on taking it off. I did not care if it would lead me to prison, at least he was gone and could not harm anyone else. Who knows who else he has hurt. The tree is huge and has all these branches; big, small. thin, and thick. It was such a beautiful tree and his body had to ruin it but I thought about it as a Halloween decoration or present for his parents to see when they come to home sweet home. I made the guy do it for me and he was quote on quote gladly to do so. He was sick in the head just like me. I knew this because ever since the beginning he had no problem in doing something for me or even scared.

The time came and he looked so sad hanging up there but I did not care and in my eyes it was art, counting the way the tree looks itself, his house, a nice white front porch and a nice looking 1969 black Ford Mustang with evidence. Silly him he had kept the bullet he took out of my body too so even more. I made a letter explaining everything and even gave my address if I was going to be under arrest. It was the third day and I was on my way home. It felt like forever and when I finally did I start ringing the doorbell and no one answers. I have no phone because it was broken so I can't call anyone. I can't walk anymore so I sit on the floor. I keep ringing the bell and finally someone answers. My dad. What the fuck !? He sees me and runs towards me picks me up and takes me inside. My mom and siblings are crying because of the way I look. I have bruises, a fucked up eye, a bullet hole in my leg, and blood everywhere. I explain everything. They are relieved that I am safe now until I told them what I had done and they were scared of me. I don't blame them. They said I was protecting myself and that was fine but having a plan was the crazy part. Ah fuck them this is who I am. I don't care I say in my head. The news got out but they couldn't find his body. I never said where it was but once you enter the house and you go back outside if you look up to the tree at a certain angle you will see his lifeless body hanging there. When Jaime's parents got back 'home' they weren't surprised, like if they knew he was going to do this someday. But for him to die they did not like that. Oh well. The house got empty and once the parents were ready to say goodbye they felt some presence, but the doors were already locked and the windows were already nailed down with pieces of wood. As they turn around you can hear knocks loud as hell and yelling begging to get out. Let me out please, mom dad I'm still here. The mom starts freaking out and starts trying to go back inside the house and then there is the dad who sees the tree and his son. He calls for his wife and she starts crying even more. His body had been hanging for at least a week and surprisingly everything was perfect for me.

the end.

[tsuki-sennin]

EarthBound – Episode 29: Come, Lies Doom Town

Espressos Luigi... Sn

>I’d have loved to have gone around with Fedora Man and Ticket Guy for the rest of the game, but Ness and Jeff are the real members of our party.

>Actually, the thing on the Enraged Fire Plug’s face looks less like a goatee and more like a Fu Manchu mustache.

>...does Eagleland’s fire department shoot fire at fire to put it out, if water is treated like fire?

>I don’t blame you for freaking out, Emile. Your brain must’ve gotten fried early.

>No, I agree. I don’t like the inconsistencies either.

>...Ness is angry with Not-Teddy over his hatred of beeef.

>Dali’s Clock... insert “ZA WARUDO”... Sakuya Izayoi... Zephyr/Chronomage from the Castlevania Sorrow games... that one Simpsons episode... Flash Man from Mega Man 2... whatever reference you want here.

>...to be honest, I’d’ve been fine if Dali’s Clock was replaced with a more original enemy, but I’m happy that he wasn’t changed for the rereleases.

>Welc welc omewelc omeome

>Who wants a guy with a unibrow and a gold tooth?

>Waking up in Dark Moon Hotel is nightmare fuel. The fact that it’s always night time makes me think that this is the timeline where Nightmare Moon defeated Celestia 1000 years ago.

>Wait, so Mani Mani is at Mani Mani with all Mani Mani? Mani?

>...Ness’s Mom is very busy, okay? Let her unwind with some aerobics.

>A Night pendant? Wonder if it’s dotted with stars and stuff?

>Mr. T’s partner has a good tooth and connected eyebrows. Guess I missed that episode of The A-Team.

>I mean, I’m sure it looks like a Pencil in some other country.

>I’ve seen the Mani Mani Statue background in some mother game. It fucked me up there way worse than in this one.

>WELP, SO MUCH FOR A TOUGH BATTLE!

>So the Mani Mani Statue went from Lier X. Aggerate, to the Happy Happy Village Cult and its leader Mr. Carpainter, to Al Everdred, to Geldegarde Monotoli, to the Abyss! And with it, its illusion of the city of nightmares and eternal darkness called Moonside and everything in it! Our new items are fine though. I guess Monotoli was just keeping them on the floor.

>Trout flavored yogurt sounds absolutely repulsive, by the way.

[blogginghuman]

The Strokes prove they’re still kicking twenty years later in “The New Abnormal”

They were the band of the noughties, the one many music fans believed had split until their performance at 2019 Lollapalooza and a Bernie Sanders rally earlier this year.

They make “Bad Decisions,” share an “Ode to the Mets” and wonder “Why Are Sundays So Depressing.”

The Strokes return older and wiser in the aptly-titled “The New Abnormal.”

In “Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus,” despondent lyrics search for new friends “but they don’t want me.” The former friends may be stuck in the past, as the singer asks where the eighties bands went.

“Ode to the Mets” tries to hold on to the “old times,” but realizes old friends long forgotten and old ways at the bottom must be released.

The album flashes back to Moscow in 1972 during “Bad Decisions”, deciding “I will leave it in my dreams.” 

Although “Bad Decisions” seems primarily a love song (or an anti-love song,) it is possible that “Pick up your gun / Put up your glove / Save us from harm / Safe or alone” refers to the May 22, 1972 Moscow summit between President Richard Nixon and Soviet leaders.

It was at this meeting that Nixon and Leonid Brezhnev of the Soviet Union signed the Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty, which “limited the United States and the USSR to 200 antiballistic missiles each.”

Given lead singer Julian Casablancas’ deep interest in politics and his own Nixon mention in an interview, “Bad Decisions” is undoubtedly a song that carries a double entendre: disparaging a broken relationship while simultaneously analyzing the Summit and its impact.

The vinyl provides a velvety sound of “The New Abnormal” that is missing from the Spotify version.

In record form, it comes with a cover that transforms into a magnificent poster of the band against a sunset backdrop. The poster is reversible; one side shows the band and the other expands into a larger version of the cover art.

It is the band’s first album since 2013’s “Comedown Machine.”

The Strokes formed in Manhattan in 1998, but its sound is more reminiscent of a British rock band of yesteryear. 

Casablancas, bassist Nikolai Fraiture, guitarist Albert Hammond Jr., drummer Fabrizio Moretti and guitarist Nick Valensi met through various New York schools and a Swiss boarding school.

It was a Velvet Underground CD gifted to Fraiture by his brother that inspired The Strokes’ creation.

“They had this reputation in the press of being bad boys. Drinking a lot, getting into trouble. That was their whole persona, cool New York, don’t give-a-fuck type of dudes,” said blogger Laura Young, cited in an article by The Guardian.

Their debut album, 2001 “Is This It” was released after their first demo headlined Reading Festival in the United Kingdom.

It was also released shortly after 9/11, on October 9, 2001.

“New York was grieving and dazed, but the Strokes seemed so emblematic of the city’s excesses and allure that loving them felt nearly patriotic,” wrote Amanda Petrusich of The New Yorker in April.

According to American Songwriter, The Strokes fell victim to rumors and claims that “they were secretly just unskilled pretty boys chosen for their looks … and that they’d stolen all their ideas from seminal punk bands like Television and The Velvet Underground.”

Hammond, Jr. particularly struggled with a drug addiction encouraged by Ryan Adams.

“I remember Julian [Casablancas] threatening to beat Ryan up if he hung out with me, as a protective thing. He’d heard that Ryan would come and give me heroin, so he was just like, ‘If you come to my apartment again with heroin, I’m going to kick your ass,’” Hammond Jr. told Vulture in 2017.

“I think heroin just kind of crosses a line. It can take a person’s soul away. So it’s like if someone is trying to give your friend a lobotomy – you’re gonna step in,” Casablancas said.

Despite a damaged reputation by 2003, the band pressed on and continued making music.

“…They never sold that many records, but they made really good records. The reach, the awareness of them was so much greater than the record sales,” said artist Richard Melville Hall (Moby.) 

“I just think the quality of art, of humanity, has always been relatively similar and there’s always great, inspiring, boundary-pushing things happening at all times. And my dream, goal, hope is that things that are more important and powerful and meaningful become more popular in their own time than later,” Casablancas told Rhian Daly of NME in May.

“We were kids that wanted to conquer the world, but we had no idea that we were going to be given the chance,” said Moretti.