#also I don’t drink but my friends do because as I said it’s australian culture

[deariemaybank]

Concealed Hearts

Chapter 2: The bonfire

Summary: Angela goes back to the outerbanks after many years to visit family but this time she actually plans on making her holiday worth it.

Pairing: eventual JJ Maybank x OC midsize fem

Warnings: swearing

As me and Bella neared the beach, we could hear the music getting louder and louder. Bella couldn’t stop going on about all the hot boys she has seen today since we got home from the beach, honestly I was only half listening most of the time. As I neared the part of the beach where the bonfire was happening, I started looking out for Kie my anixety taking over as it always does when I’m in big crowds of people I don’t know, I also knew Bella was starting to get a bit tense as well. I spotted Kie standing at a table next to a keg with two guys, one of them being the blonde one from the beach earlier that Bella spotted and the other I had never seen before, Kie seemed to have noticed us approaching as she nodded her head at us and waved Bella and I over.

“Omg Ange, you made it, I’m so glad you came” she came up to give me and Bella a hug “Well thank you so much for inviting us.” I replied. “Let me introduce you to my friends, this is John B” she said pointing to the brunette one “ and this is JJ” she then pointed to the blonde one. “Nice to meet you guys” me and Bella said at the same time, laughing at ourselves jinxing each other. “ Im Angela but everyone calls me Ange and this is my sister Isabella but everyone calls her Bella” I said introducing Bella and myself.

“S’up, I’ve never seen you ladies around here before, how do you know Kie?” JJ asked, before I could reply John B hit him across the arm “Don’t be rude JJ, you need to offer the ladies a drink first before asking them questions! Hey, would you lovely ladies like a drink?” John B asked us, Bella declined and I accepted, I wasn’t a big drinker but I do enjoy a drink every now and then, honestly comes with the Australian culture and Italian heritage , just can’t avoid it.

“Thank you, John B and it’s okay it wasn’t rude at all. The outerbanks is a pretty small town. I met Kie when I came to the outer banks last time, I was about 6, so almost 10 years ago now” I replied to both of the boys. JJ smiled softly with a light blushing tinting his cheeks out of embarrassment I think, I honestly found it kinda cute. Woah hold up Ange we are not going down that road again, I reminded myself.

“Ah, so you ladies are tourons then?” JJ asked “ Yeah I guess you could say that.” Bella replied. I took a moment to look around at the beach and all the people at the bonfire, trying to remember a time where I actually ever attend an event like this, definitely not in Australia, I’m not that popular back home. I had literally 1 best friend beside my sister and 2 good friends but I rarely saw them unless we were at school or planned something months ahead.

I tuned back into the world around me and the conversation happening around me when I heard my name being called. “ Ange??” “Yeah?” I replied “You okay?” My sister asked. “Yeah, just got lost in thought.” I answered honestly.

“Can I ask where you are both from? Because clearly it’s not here and not anywhere in America going by the accent you both have..” JJ trailed off. As I went to answer I heard Kie shout “Pope” using her hand to signal someone over. I notice the man I’m assuming is Pope make his way over. I checked in with Bella at this point as I know she doesn’t love meeting new people, she said she was doing good, once I got confirmation she was okay, I turned to see Pope greet the boys and Kie, take a drink from John B’s hand and turn to look at us confused as who we were.

“ Pope, this is my friend Ange and her sister Bella” Kie clarified for Pope. “Ah yeah, I heard Kie mention your name a few times in passing. How do you do? I’m Pope, incase that was unclear.” Pope said introducing himself. Bella replied for me “Nice to meet you, Pope. I believe JJ had a question” she mentioned, my eyes looked around to find JJ’s staring behind me and I turned around to see more people I don’t know. JJ whispered “Shit, the kooks are here” to the whole group. “It’s okay JJ, maybe they are just here for the bonfire, it’s not exactly a private function” Kie said. Pope must have noticed Bella and I’s looks of confusion. “You know there are two main tribes on this island, the kooks and the pogues and let’s just say we don’t all sit around the dinner table and hold hands.” Pope clarified. “Ah, got it” I replied to Pope, still looking at JJ and noticed he seemed to be distracted again but this time for something different. “I’ll catch up with you all later.” JJ stated, walking off with a smirk on his face and I noticed he was approaching a group of gorgeous girls that were all skinny, blonde and dressed in almost nothing. “I take it, he is the playboy of the group?” I asked to no one in particular but just in general. “Ah yep.” Kie sighs. Glad I found that out pretty quick, even if he was different, guys that like usually don’t go for girls like me, it’s a tale as old as time (so some people say). I use to not believe that statement at all, until I got my heart crushed by one of those exact boys.

After a while of getting to know John B and Pope, Kie pulled me to the side “So what’s been going on with you lately?” Kie asked. “Honestly not much Kie, life hasn’t changed much since we last fully spoke, I found a part time job for after school at like a little local shop back home and now I’m here for 6 weeks.” I answered “What about you Kie?” “Same here, still trying to save the turtles” we lightly laughed together “and same just school and hanging out with the pogues.” She replied this time. Kie and I ended up getting so lost in catching up, updating each other on stuff the other missed out on or didn’t know about, I didn’t realise how much time had passed.

I could feel my phone vibrating knowing it was my mum calling to ask when we were coming home, I ended up staying much longer then I thought we would have, even Bella was having a good time. She went off a little while ago cos she spotted a cute guy and I let her go because I’m not one to spoil the fun and she is on holiday as well so she should be able to enjoy it. “One sec” I told Kie, excusing myself “Hello, yeah mum. Yeah we are doing okay, Bella is fine , she has met some new friends and she’s hanging with them and I’m still with Kie. Yeah okay, we will be home soon. Love you too.” I hung up on my mum and turned to Kie supporting a sad smile.

“Don’t tell me you have to go” Kie pleaded. I bit my lip not wanting to disappoint her but also not wanting to get in trouble especially in my first week. “I’m really sorry, I have to find Bella and head home.” I regretfully told Kie. “I’ll help” Kie offered and I accepted. After finding Bella five minutes later, I told her mum rang and I knew she was disappointed as well but said goodbye to her new friends, promising to see them soon.

“Bye Kie, say bye to the boys for us and tell them it was nice meeting them, I can’t seem to find them and I don’t have much time before I get another phone call, this time it will be from my dad.” I told Kie, hugging her then heading home.

JJ’s POV:

I went to go find my friends to tell them I was gonna go, you know, when duty calls, JJ Maybank answers. I looked around and spotted Kie, John B and pope all where I left them but no sign of that new girl. Shit what was her name again? I forgot. It was something that started with A, but I couldn’t remember it fully. I was a little disappointed she left, that new girl seemed different and I was definitely intrigued by her.

I went up to Kie “Hey Kie, where did your friend go?” “She had to head home, it was getting late for her, she told me to say goodbye and that it was nice meeting you.” Kie replied. Oh yeah, makes sense but I will not deny that I was disappointed, I wanted to get to know her more and find more out about her considering I only got to say like two sentences to her and then the kooks showed up and I didn’t want to mess up anything when she is so new to everything. It was like my mind was being pulled towards her, that’s why I left to try and distract myself with other women because I don’t do relationships or whatever this could be.

She said she was here as a touron, I’ll have to get Kie to bring her around more so I can find out more about her. “What was her name again?” I sheepishly asked Kie, a little embarrassed I couldn’t remember. “Which one?” Kie asked smirking. “The older one, her name starts with A” I said as I started to roll up a joint, needing something to distract me right now. After about 30 seconds, I finally get an answer. “Her name is Angela, but she likes to called Ange.” Kie finally answers my question, looking at me strangely.

Angela that’s it, I remember it having something to do with angels. I finished off my joint ignoring Kie’s odd looks at me showing interest in her friend as I noticed the girl from before that I was chatting up was heading over towards me, I wasn’t really interested anymore but I have a reputation to uphold. “See you all tomorrow.” I said bye to my friends and headed towards the blonde girl, while a certain dark haired angel was occupying my mind throughout the whole night.

A/N: chapter 2 is up now, the story will start matching with the show soon. Just needed a bit of depth in the story before I start linking it to the show because of how I want it to go. Thank you for reading and I’ll post part 3 soon!!

[starfire-s]

I have been told or seen it in media that Australians are crazy about surfing. That it's basically the only sport they know of lol. I swear whenever Australia comes into the conversion I'm having with people, surfing and getting drunk always find its way to the conversation.

lol really?? I know australia is hyped up as being the country where we spend most of our time on the beach and love surfing and have nice beachy waves!! But in my experience I’ve never talked to anyone about surfing!! it might also differ from state to state because where I live it’s too hot and the water is infested with jellyfish or we’re always on cyclone warning so I don’t think many people surf here!! but the Australians love drinking/are drunk is v v true, it’s australian culture to drink!!

[chrizbang]

Pairing: Bang Chan x female reader, ft. Han Jisung

Genre: smut, a little bit of angst

Warnings: mature content, partying, drinking, kissing, unprotected sex, oral sex, lowkey fuckboy!Chan

Word count: 8.038

Summary: You had to do a project for the last semester in college before your vacation. Not only you had to deal with the stress of doing it right, but you also had to deal with the stupid crush you had on Bang Chan.

"Felix, I'm not going to kiss Chan"

"Everyone, pay attention here, please," your teacher said. Slowly, everyone stopped with the side talk and paid attention to her. "For your last project of the semester, I decided that we are going to learn about different cultures." She got up from her table and went in the direction of the board. "Remember when I asked you guys to send me the names of your groups? Basically, I'm going to draw random countries for each group. I want you guys to do a study aboout the differences of said countries, based on a theme that you are going to choose.”

She started writing on the board.

“The theme must be something creative. If it is not creative, your project is going to lose points, okay?" she said enthusiastically.

She started to draw the countries for each group. Your group was formed by basically you and Felix. Felix became your friend after the first day of class but you felt like he was your friend since forever. "I want this project by the end of the month, so..." she looked at the little calendar on her table. "You guys have three weeks. Any doubts?" Some people raised their hands but you weren't paying attention anymore, you were writing down the countries that you had to work with: Australia, Germany, Spain and, Korea. You had no idea what to do for your project. Your teacher was very clear: it had to be creative. Creativity wasn't your thing. "Okay, guys, class dismissed," your teacher announced. Everyone started to get up and leave but you sat there, trying really hard to think on a theme. "Hey, we have to go," Felix said. "What are we going to do?" "We have plenty of time to think about it, Y/N." Felix grabbed your backpack and started to put your stuff inside of it. "Three weeks is not plenty of time, Felix." "Okay, what's your idea, then?" "I don't know, that's why I'm asking you, dumbass." Felix rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the classroom. "How about we do a project about the foods of each country?" "Hm, that's interesting." You took your backpack from his hands to grab a little notebook to write down the ideas. "But I don't think is creative enough." Felix sat at the bench at the corner of the hall. "What if we did the differences in the skin texture of each country?" Felix looked at you and saw the pout on your face. "Too much?" You simply nodded. You sat down next to him, already tired from all the thinking. "You know what would be funny?" you grinned. "What?" "If we made a project about the way that people from each country kiss and the differences from each one." "Y/N, that's it!" Felix got up, excited. "Felix, I was joking." "No, this is a great idea. It's creative! There are students from different countries in our college, so we can totally do it!" "As far as I know, there's only one german student here. Are you going to kiss him?" You stood in front of him, arms crossed. "You are going to kiss him." Felix looked at you like what he was saying was obvious. "Felix!" "Look, we have four countries. I can kiss two people and you kiss two people. It's not going to be hard." "You know what? I'm going home. I'm going to think about a better theme." "You know you can't," Felix shouted while you left. Felix was right, this idea was the best one. It was creative and bold, but kissing random people was the hard part. Not that you didn't like to kiss, but you were used to kissing people at parties, people that you would kiss while you were drunk and you knew that you would never see them again. Not people from your college where you would have to see them every day. "Hi, Jisung," you said while you opened the door of your apartment. Your roommate was laying down on the couch, playing video games. "Hey," he greeted you. You lifted his legs so you could sit on the couch, putting his legs on your lap. "Are you okay?" he asked, noticing your expression. "Ugh, I have this stupid project to make," you whined, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, letting the frustration take over your body. "Do you wanna talk about it?" "No." Your phone rang, you grabbed it only to see that it was Felix calling you. "Hey, Felix." "What's up Feliiix," Jisung screamed. "Hi Jisung,” he yelled, making you pull the phone away from your ear. “Y/N, can you come to my apartment today?" "Nope. No, I can't." "Why? Do you have something to do?" Felix asked. "I don't want to. You know why." "Y/N, you have to get over the crush you have on Chan one day." "I don't have a crush on him, Felix. He just makes me...uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, in a weird way. I don't know how to explain." "Y/N, he's not even here now. Besides, we have to work on the details for our project," Felix insisted. "Why don't you come to my apartment?" "Because every time I go there we can never get anything done because of Jisung. Please? Please, Y/N." "Fine," you sighed. "I'll be there in twenty minutes." "Are you going to get pretty for Channie?" Felix teased. "Shut the fuck up." You turned off your phone and went to your room. The truth is: you did have a crush on Chan. Chan was handsome, funny, he had a great body and a great personality. He was also a fuckboy. You can't remember the number of times that you saw him with different girls in their apartment, one prettier than the other. Eventually, you stopped going to their apartment because you never knew how to behave like a normal human being around him and, seeing him with pretty girls wasn't helping. You took a quick shower and dressed in simple clothes, you didn't want Felix teasing you. While walking through the campus in the direction of their apartment, you kept trying to calm yourself. It has been a while since you saw Chan, so you were excited, even though you were trying to convince yourself that you weren't. Felix said that he wasn't home, so there was no reason for you to be nervous. You stopped in front of their door and took a deep breath. You knocked and it took a moment before Felix answered. "Hey, Y/N," Felix screamed, giving you a hug. "Don't act like we didn't see each other a few hours ago." You entered their apartment. The structure was the same for all the apartments on the campus, but each one had its own piece of decoration. Surprisingly enough, Felix and Chan's apartment had a great decoration and was super clean. "So... let's go to your room." "Are you sure that you don't want to work in the living room?" Felix asked. "I'm sure," you said, already going in the direction of his room. Felix laughed. He knew you were trying to avoid Chan. You sat on Felix's bed with your notebook in your hands, ready to take notes. "Look," Felix said, sitting in front of you. "I know that you don't want to use kissing as a theme, but..." Felix raised his hand when he saw your expression, trying to explain himself. "It is the perfect theme, Y/N. We are not going to find something as creative and daring as this. And this is important for our grades, we are not doing very well on this subject, remember?" Felix tilted his head. You know he was right. "Fine, you are not going to leave me alone, are you?" "Nope." Felix got up from the bed and grabbed his notebook on his table, to show you some annotations. "So, we have to find people from Australia, Germany, Spain, and Korea. We already know the german student, don't worry, I'll talk to him so you can kiss him." Felix wrote down something in his notebook and continued. "There's a spanish girl in Chan's class, I'm gonna ask him to help me out." The simple mention of Chan's name made you feel butterflies in your stomach. "For korean, I thought about the possibility of..." Felix hesitated and looked at you. "No." "Come on, Y/N." "I am not going to kiss Jisung, Felix." "Fine, I'll look for a korean girl somewhere." "There's probably someone in our college." "The problem is someone australian. Don't get me wrong, I love you and you are gorgeous. But I'm not going to kiss you." "I don't want to kiss you either, Felix." "Felix." You heard Chan calling, startling you. "I'm in my room," Felix yelled. Chan opened the door of Felix's room. You looked at your notebook to pretend that you were occupied. Chan and Felix talked about ordering food for dinner or something. "Y/N," Chan said when he noticed you, making you instantly look in his direction. "Long time no see." He had a stupid cocky smile on his face. His sweet voice made you swallow hard. "H-hi, Chan." Of course, you had to stutter. "You can stay for dinner if you want," Chan offered before leaving the room. "So cute," Felix whispered, looking at your red face. "I have to go," you said, gathering your stuff. "But Chan invited you for dinner, Y/N," Felix teased you. "Bye, Felix." "Okay, let me walk you to the door." Luckily, Chan was occupied in the kitchen so he didn't see you leave. "Text me once you get there, okay?" Felix said. "Okay, bye." You kept thinking about the little interaction with Chan on your way home. He dyed his hair since the last time you saw him. Instead of blonde, it was now black. Both colors suited him so much. He was wearing a black sweatshirt and some jeans, the most basic clothes ever and he looked breathtaking. You hated how you were head over heels for him, you felt like a teenager. It was so silly. Days went by and you had a lot of work from college. Felix already worked on his part and managed to kiss the spanish girl from Chan’s class. Something made you feel like kissing wasn't the only thing he did, but you didn't want to know the details. Some students were planning a party and Chan invited Felix, who invited you. "I don't know, I have so much to do," you whined. "Can I go?" Jisung asked, stuffing some food in his mouth. "Of course," Felix said. "Y/N, that's exactly why you should go." He said that while holding some of the papers that were on the couch while you worked on your homework. "You need to ease your mind from all the stress from school." "He's right," Jisung agreed. "She's so grumpy lately because of college." "Shut up, Jisung,” you whined. "Okay, fine. But only if you help finish this," you told Felix. "Fine." The party was on a tuesday night, Felix would go with Chan so you asked Jisung to take you. "Looking good," Jisung stated, eyeing you up and down as he entered your room. You were putting your earrings on. You decided that since you would have all the work to go to a party, you had to a least look good. So you were wearing a leather skirt with a white long-sleeved blouse that showed some cleavage. "Thanks, Jisung. Are you ready?" "Yeah. Let's go." The party wasn't far away from your dorm so you were able to go walking. It was 9 pm, so leaving Jisung with you made you feel safer. Jisung was the type of person who was outgoing, he talked a lot and made you laugh all the time. Along the way, he talked about college and his classes. He studied music production and he seemed really passionate about it. You thought it was cute how his eyes glowed while he talked about his classes. It was funny because Chan also studied music production, but he was from a different classroom. Some minutes later, you were at the place of the party. You had no idea whose house was that, but you completely forgot about it once you were inside. The first thing you saw was Chan, but he was too occupied to see you. He was kissing a girl. She was gorgeous, with long blonde hair, and a tight red dress that accentuated her curves. You were sure that Chan enjoyed that dress by the way his hands ran over her body, stopping at her ass to grab it. "I'm gonna look for Felix," you whispered to Jisung. You found Felix standing next to a table where people were playing beer pong. "Y/N," he yelled when he saw you. He ran in your direction, giving you a tight hug that made you realize that he was probably, already, a little drunk. "Hi," you said with a sad voice. "What's wrong?" "Nothing. It's not important." "If it's not important, why are you making that face?" He held your face with his hands, looking right into your eyes. "Felix, I don't wanna talk about it, not now." You looked in the direction of the table. "Can I play?" "Sure," Felix shrugged. You played beer pong with Felix and some unknown people and eventually, you started to feel dizzy. "I'm going to use the bathroom," you said, stumbling on some drunk people while you tried to leave. You went to the second floor, looking from door to door when you finally saw the bathroom one. However, when you got closer, you realized that there was someone inside of it. And they weren't alone. You could hear the sound of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans. You widened your eyes, feeling embarrassed by witnessing people having sex. When you turned around to leave, you heard the girl moaning "fuck Chan, harder." You could hear Chan groaning while he fucked her.

You swallowed hard and left. There was another bathroom on the first floor which you found eventually. Once you were inside, you sat on the toilet and cried. You had this stupid crush on Chan for so long and look at you. Crying in the bathroom while he fucked a girl in another bathroom. You stayed there for a while, feeling sorry for yourself until you got fed up. It was time to get over him. You cleaned your tears and got up to go back to the party. You looked around for Felix but couldn't find him anywhere. "Y/N," you looked in the direction of the person calling you and saw Jisung enthusiastically waving at you. He was standing in the middle of the living room where people were dancing. "Hey," you half yelled since the song was loud. "Are enjoying the party?" "Not really." You really wanted to leave, you didn't feel like staying at that party, and you especially didn't feel like dancing. That's when you looked around and saw Chan at the corner of the living room, talking to Felix. You saw that he had his eyes on you. Like he would always do, looking at you like he was checking you out but without it being obvious. You clenched your fists, you were tired of Chan teasing you. You had an idea and you didn't even stop to think about it. You grabbed Jisung's face and kissed him. It was a weird kiss at first, the smell of alcohol exhaling in the air. Jisung's lips were soft but eager, he held onto your waist, getting your body closer to his. He wasted no time before shoving his tongue inside of your mouth, taking you by surprise. You kissed him for a while but you stopped the moment you felt him rubbing his boner on you. You lightly pushed him by his shoulders.

"I have to go," you said, leaving the room. Jisung stayed there, looking at you, without knowing how to react. You decided that you had to leave. You were confused, upset, angry and a little horny, thanks to Jisung. You started to walk in the direction of the gates of the house when you heard somebody calling your name. "Y/N, wait!" You sighed and turned around. The last thing you needed was to talk to Chan. "What do you want?" you roared. "Are you leaving?" "Yes. I'm going home." He looked like he was angry at something, but you simply shrugged. "Let me take you home. It's way too late for you to be walking alone," he said in a serious tone. "I don't need your help, Chan." You turned around to leave when he grabbed your arm. "This was not a suggestion. I'm taking you home," he growled. You pulled your arm from his hands but didn't fight. Chan walked with you to your apartment quietly. Not a word was said until he stopped in front of your dorm. "Thanks," you said, looking at the floor. "So, Jisung, huh?. I didn't expect that." "I'm sorry?" You raised your head, looking at him. "How long have you been dating him?" he asked. He really looked like something was bothering him, clenching his jaw and crossing his arms. You felt like he was fighting with you for doing something wrong. "T-that's none of your business. Goodnight, Chan," you remarked. You went in the direction of your door and stopped. You were so angry at him, you couldn't stop the words from coming out of your mouth. "Where's the girl you were fucking in the bathroom? You should be worried about her." Chan widened his eyes and smiled. You wanted to punch that stupid smile out of his face. "Are you jealous?" he asked, raising his eyebrow. "Fuck off." You unlocked the door and went inside. You lay down on your bed and closed your eyes. It didn't take long for you to sleep since you were exhausted. You couldn't say that you had a good night of sleep though, you woke up with a hangover and headache. Still, you had class first thing in the morning so you had to go. You took a shower and got dressed up when you remembered what happened to Jisung. You were not ready to face the consequences of your actions, so you tried to leave without seeing him. You were sitting in your class, trying to pay attention when Felix arrived. "Hey," he said, sitting by your side. "Hey," you whined. "I have good news. There was a german girl at the party last night, so I did your job for you." "Yay," you said without any enthusiasm. "Aaand, since you kissed Jisung, you have the korean part. There's only Australia missing." "Haven't you kissed any girls when you lived in Australia?" you interrogated him. "I did, but I'm australian. I think it would be better from the perspective of someone who isn't, you know?" You sighed. When you started to pack your stuff to leave after the class was over, you groaned. "What is it, Y/N?" Felix asked. "I have to go home." "And?" "I kissed Jisung, Felix." "Was it that bad?" Felix tilted his head, not understanding your point. "That's not the point. He's my roommate and my friend, that's weird." "Well, unless you are planning to move somewhere else, you'll have to talk to him." You groaned again, throwing your head back. You went home thinking about what exactly you would tell Jisung. You always thought that Jisung was an attractive guy and you would be lying if you said you never took a look at his body when he would walk around shirtless. There was even that one time where he brought a girl home, they tried to stay quiet but you could hear them fucking. That turned you on so much that you had to touch yourself. Still, Jisung was your friend and kissing your friends was not something that you usually did. When you got home, you looked around for Jisung. You heard some noises in his room. You knocked at the door and he stayed silent for a while. "Come in," he said. "Hey," you purred when you opened the door. "I think I need to talk." "Yeah, I think we should." "Sorry for kissing you last night, that was a stupid thing to do," you stumbled on your words, barely giving yourself time to breathe. "Y/N," Jisung raised his hand. "It's okay. You are a good kisser." "Thanks. I guess."

"I have to admit that I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was thinking..." Jisung hesitated for a moment, thinking deeply about what he was going to say.

"Why don't we do it again?" he suggested.

You bit your lips. You had to admit that that's not what you were expecting from him.

You sat at the edge of his bed, getting closer to him.

"Jisung, I... I kissed you because I wanted Chan to notice me, maybe get him jealous." Saying it out loud made you realize how childish and silly that was, you couldn't help but to feel embarrassed.

"Y/N, I don't care. It's not like I'm asking you to marry me," he laughed.

Jisung sat by your side.

"What do you think about being friends with benefits?"

He watched your reaction. You had a confused expression on your face, trying to understand his words.

"When was the last time that you had sex?" he asked.

"I don't know. Eight months ago?"

"See? It's been a while for me, too. Besides, you can even use me to make Chan jealous, if you want."

"Are you listening to yourself, Jisung?"

"Yes. We can still be friends, no feelings involved. Think about it."

Jisung got up from the bed and walked in the direction of the door.

"Ji-jisung."

He turned around to look at you. "Yes?"

"I want it."

Felix, 5:35 pm: Hey 

Felix, 5:35 pm: Did you write your dissertation about the korean part?

Y/N, 5:38 pm: I did

Y/N, 5:38 pm: Even though I don't think it's really useful since I was drunk

Felix, 5:40 pm: You should kiss Jisung again then, lol

Y/N, 5:41 pm: Maybe I will ;)

Felix, 5:42 pm: Y/N??? You nasty little b

Felix, 5:43 pm: Send it to me, please.

Y/N, 5:45 pm: Okay.

Y/N, 5:45 pm: Hey, are going to do something tomorrow?

Felix, 5:48 pm: No, why?

Y/N, 5:49 pm: Let's go to the movies. There's that horror movie that we wanted to watch in the theaters.

Felix, 5:51 pm: Sure!

Y/N, 5:52 pm: Can I bring Jisung?

Felix, 5:52 pm: Yes

Felix, 5:54 pm: But don't you dare to make me feel like the third wheel.

Jisung didn't even know that you had plans with him that afternoon. But you wanted to spend time with him, to ensure the "friends" part of your negotiation. After accepting to be friends with benefits, he didn't talk about it anymore. You thought that he would kiss you again or something, but no, he went to the kitchen to make some mac and cheese for dinner and then went to sleep.

"Jisung," you said, knocking on his door. You know that if he was silent he was probably taking a nap.

"What?" he asked, in an annoyed voice.

"Can I come in?"

"Ugh, no, I'm sleeping."

You entered the room anyway. You swallowed hard when you saw that he was laying on his stomach, shirtless. His back was exposed for you to see. It was not the first time that you saw him like that, but it was the first time since you kissed him.

"Get up, we are going to the theater."

"We?" he asked, looking at you.

"Yes, you, me and, Felix."

"Aww," he whined. "I thought it would be a cute date."

Jisung winked at you with a cocky smile on his face.

"Shut up. You have ten minutes to get dressed."

You agreed with Felix to meet him at the movie theater, so you left with Jisung on an Uber.

When you arrived at the movie theater, you could see Felix at the line to buy the tickets, but he wasn't alone.

"Felix?" you asked when you got closer to him.

"Hey!" he said. "I hope you don't mind Chan coming with us. He insisted that he wanted to come. Like really."

"Hi, Y/N," Chan purred, smiling at you. He then looked a Jisung.

"Jisung," he said in a low voice. His face looked serious, it didn't look like he was happy to see Jisung there.

Chan looked back at you. “I hope you don’t mind if Felix and I accompany your date with your little friend with benefits.”

You didn’t have time for a reaction since Felix pulled you to buy your tickets and some popcorn and headed to the movie. The mood was heavy, Jisung walked around with his arm around your neck all the time and you saw Chan looking at you with an upset expression. Was he jealous? You didn't know.

You sat by Jisung's side on the theater and Felix sat by your side, but after talking about something with Chan, they switched places.

Chan's leg touched yours and you felt your heart dancing in your chest. Why couldn't you get over him? You held Jisung's hand, trying to distract yourself. You were not giving Chan what he wanted.

With the corner of your eye, you would see Chan watching you sometimes. But you avoided looking back at him at any cost.

Jisung would whisper some things in your ear during the movie, making you giggle.

Suddenly, you felt Chan moving next to you. He stretched out for a moment, but he left his arm on your chair, next to your shoulders. You swallowed hard and rolled your eyes. Would you be lying if you said you didn't like the sudden attention you were getting from Chan? Yes, you would. But you felt confused and angry. Chan was acting jealous out of nowhere, to the point where you started to feel guilty, while you had to deal with the countless times where you saw him with other girls. Still, you never acted like a jealous teenager around him, so yeah, you were not giving in. The movie ended and all you wanted to do was to leave the theater. Jisung was by your side all the time, walking with you in front of Chan and Felix. "Let's go home, darling," Jisung purred, after giving you a peck on the cheeks. You could tell that he was loving to tease Chan. You said goodbye to Felix, and, reluctantly, to Chan and left with Jisung. When you got home you sat on the couch, still thinking about everything that was happening. Jisung sat by your side, almost sitting on your lap. "Ouch," you whined. "Sorry. What is up with Chan? He looked really angry at me today." "I don't know and I don't care," you shrugged. "Come on, Y/N. I think he has a crush on you and got all mad now that you have a man." "Oh, I have a man?" you looked at Jisung with an amused expression. "Well, we are friends with benefits, remember?" Jisung laid his head on your shoulder while his hand grabbed your thigh. "I almost forgot since you didn't say anything about it anymore." Jisung's thumb drew patterns on your skin while he talked. "Well, I wanted to give you space, you know? To get used to it." "Awn, you are so sweet." "I am, baby." You looked at Jisung, who was also looking at you. Slowly, you got closer to him until your lips touched. Now that you were sober, it wasn't so weird to kiss him. He was very eager, but not in a bad way. He played with your tongue while he guided the kiss, holding your head with his hand. Suddenly, he grabbed your waist, making you sit on his lap. He kept on kissing you, running his hands through your body. You started to grind on his boner, just to tease him a little. Jisung held hard on your waist, pulling you closer to him, so you would grind harder on him. You couldn't hold the little whine that left your lips when you felt his hard dick against your clit. "Take this off," he whispered, helping you to take off your t-shirt. He didn't waste time, grabbing your boobs and pulling your bra down. he licked one of your nipples while he played with the other.  You moaned loud, rocking your hips on his cock. Jisung started to kiss your neck, working to take his belt off. He opened his pants and freed his dick. "Are you on the pill?" he asked. "Yes." Your skirt was already raised, exposing your wet panties. He pulled your panties to the side and held your waist, helping you out so you could slide on his dick. You whined when you felt him stretching you out. You started to ride his dick at a fast pace, not giving your pussy time to adjust. "Fuck, Y/N," Jisung moaned. "I'm not gonna last long if you keep it like that." "Play with my clit, I'm close," you whined. He rubbed his thumb against your clit while you sat on his dick. After a little while, you came, kissing him on the lips. Quickly, you got off his lap and got on your knees. You grabbed his dick and started pumping and sucking it. Jisung came, moaning loud, filling your mouth up with his hot cum. You swallowed it and looked at him with an innocent face. "That's fucking hot," he whined. "Y/N, we need to finish our project," Felix said. You were sitting in the cafeteria. You had only one week before you had to deliver the project and Felix was starting to panic. "I know, I'm still looking for a guy who is from Australia that's not you." "You know a guy that's Australian and it's not me." "Felix, I'm not going to kiss Chan," you grumped. "Why not?" You turned around to see Chan standing behind you, with that cocky smile that he always had on his face. He sat on the table by your side. "Felix told me about your project. Why are not going to kiss me? Is your little boyfriend going to stay mad?" he teased. "You know that Jisung it's not my boyfrie-," you stopped once you noticed that you were explaining yourself. You cleaned your throat. "I don't owe you any explanation, Chan. And Felix, you really need to stop exposing my life to him."

Felix frowned.

"Come on, Y/N. You would rather fail than to kiss me?" he asked, tilting his head and looking at you, using a soft voice. You hated how he made you feel butterflies in your stomach by the way he looked at you. You hated how he looked so good with that stupid sweatshirt and his messy hair, making you think that he was probably late for college today. Probably because he was fucking some hot girl the night before. "I'm n-not gonna fail. I'll kiss Felix if I have to." You got up and left, going home. Felix called your name but you kept walking. In your college, there were a lot of foreign students, but not many australians, from what you knew. You knew that were no way that Felix would kiss you, so you had to do something. You were looking on Tinder, trying to find what you needed when Felix messaged you asking for you to go to his house. He said that you needed to at least finish to write the project, even if Australia was missing. You went to his apartment, ready to be angry at Chan, but you soon learned that he wasn't there. You and Felix did what you had to do and by the end of it, you were both mentally exhausted. "How come just writing something can be so tiring?" Felix asked, throwing himself on the couch. "Probably because we are both very stupid," you stated. "That must be it. I'm kind of hungry but we don't have anything to eat. I think I’m going to the supermarket to buy us something, okay?" "Okay. I'm gonna review our work while you are there." You were sitting there, doing your job for about ten minutes when you heard the door opening. "Already?" you asked. "Y/N?" "Oh, Chan. I thought it was Felix." you sighed. "Sorry to disappoint." Chan went to his room and stayed there for a while. You found it strange that he didn't come to tease you. "Y/N, can you come to my room for a moment?" "I'm busy." You felt your palms sweating. Was he really inviting you to stay alone, in his room, with him? "Please? It's going to be really quick, I need to show you something."

You wanted to say no, you really did. But you went to his room anyway. Chan closed the door when you were inside and told you to sit on the chair next to the table. He had his notebook turned on. "Put this on," he said, handing you his earphones. Chan played a song. It had a smooth melody, with soft lyrics. The person singing had a sweet voice. The lyrics talked about feelings and liking someone. It was short, about a minute and a half. "Do you like it?" Chan asked, with expectation shining on his eyes. "Yes, it's beautiful." He leaned on the edge of the table next to you. "Well, I wrote it and produced it. I also recorded it," he said with a smile on his face, but this time it wasn't a cocky one, he looked satisfied. "Oh, are you the one singing?" "Yes." "I didn't know you could sing." Chan played with his fingers and looked down. You have never seen him like that before. He looked hesitant, almost nervous. "Y/N, I-" "Hello?" Felix opened Chan's door. "Y/N, I was looking for you. We need to finish our project." Chan didn't say anything, he just left the room. "I hope I'm not interrupting something," Felix added. You shrugged and went to the living room with him. You finished all you needed about your project and went home. You looked for Jisung, until you found him in his room. "Can I come in?" you timidly asked when you opened the door. "Of course." You ran to his bed, getting under the covers with him. He was sitting down with his back against the headboard, he looked like he was studying. "I don't want to bother you, Jisung." "That's fine. What's up?" he directed his attention to you. "I'm so confused." "About what?" "About Chan." Jisung laughed. "Tell me about it." "Today he showed a song that he wrote. It was about love and stuff. And he has been acting all jealous. I don't know how to feel about it." "You really like him, don't you?" You sighed. "Jisung, I don't think we should be friends with benefits anymore." "It's okay, Y/N. Can we still be friends?" "Of course!" you hugged him, resting your head against his chest. "I'm gonna miss the sex though," he teased. "Jisung!" "Just kidding, baby." Y/N, 9:45 pm: Felix Y/N, 9:45 pm: We have one day before our project is due Y/N, 9:45 pm: I'm gonna ask you something Felix, 9:58 pm: Y/N I DON'T WANT TO KISS YOU Y/N, 9:59 pm: It's not that, dumbass Y/N, 9:59 pm: I need you to ask Chan if he will kiss me Y/N, 10:00 pm: But I want to make it clear that this is strictly professional Felix, 10:02 pm: Okay, I'm gonna talk to him You had no other choice anymore. You couldn't afford to have a bad grade so yeah, you were going to kiss Bang Chan. Felix said that you would have to go to their apartment. You already started to feel nervous. When you arrived, Chan opened the door for you. "Where's Felix?"" you asked. You were holding tight on the sleeve of your blouse. You walked past Chan while you entered their apartment and you felt your legs going weak when you smelled his cologne. He smelled so good. "He said that he wanted to give us privacy," he answered. You frowned, that was typical of him. "Look, I'm only doing this because I need to, okay? We don't have much time anymore and we really need to finish this project." Chan got closer to you, looking into your eyes. You wanted to run away. "Okay," he said. You stayed there looking for each other. You didn't know what to do. "A-are you going to kiss me?" you asked. Chan smirked. "I'm sorry, I'm a little nervous," he admitted. "You? Nervous?" "Yeah." "Chan, please. I've seen you kissing a bunch of girls a lot of times and you've never looked like you were nervous." "Yeah, but they were not you." Chan's words danced in your ears. "That's not funny." "What?" he asked. "It's not fun to play with someone's feeling like that." "I'm not playing with your feelings, Y/N. I'm serious." Chan touched your chin, making you feel shivers down your spine. One little touch and he had you on the palm of his hand. "I've known for a long time that you had a crush on me." You felt your cheeks burning. "I've always thought that you were amazing. Gorgeous, funny, smart. I just thought I wasn't good enough for you. But when I saw you kissing Jisung... I don't know. I felt so bad. I think I was used to having you around." Chan's hand that was on your chin ran to your cheek, holding the side of your face. "C-chan," you whispered. Chan shortened the distance between your bodies and kissed you. By the moment where his lips touched yours, you knew for sure that you would get addicted to it. His plump lips were soft and warm, welcoming yours like a tight hug. His other hand grabbed your waist, getting you closer to him. It was so soft and sweet, not something that you would expect from him. You held onto his neck, touching him to make sure you weren't dreaming. You wanted more. You slid your tongue in his mouth, deepening the kiss. Your hand ran through his chest until it reached the end of his shirt. You put your hand under his shirt, feeling his abs. "Y/N," Chan said. "Please," you whispered against his lips. You weren't thinking straight anymore. Chan's lips started to go down until they reached your neck. He sucked on it, making you whimper. "Are you sure about it? We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he asked, looking right into your eyes. "I want to." Chan held your hand and took you to his room. He told you to lay on his bed. You never thought that this would happen one day. He laid down next to you, facing you. "We don't have to do anything, Y/N." He smiled, the stupid dimples making his face look cuter than ever. "We can just talk, maybe kiss and-" "Chan. I want you to fuck me." You were begging. You were begging for that cock like a little bitch and you were not embarrassed. Chan widened his eyes and swallowed hard. "Okay, okay," he giggled. He got on his knees and took his shirt off. You have never seen him shirtless and you were pretty much pleased by what you saw. You wanted to kiss every inch of his pale skin. Chan got on top of you. He kissed you, exploring your lips. You were wearing a dress that was quickly on the floor of his room. "Fuck," Chan groaned when he saw you only in lingerie. You saw the boner on his pants and licked your lips. You pushed him on the bed and got on top of him. You helped him so he could take off his pants and underwear. His dick was marvelous. Above average, thick, pink tip and veiny. You didn't waste time, you grabbed it and started to lick the head. Chan moaned, closing his eyes. You twirled your tongue around it while you pumped it with your hand. You sucked hard on the tip and Chan moaned again. You tried to go down on it as much as could, which wasn't much since deepthroating wasn't your specialty, but you guessed that Chan was enjoying it by the sounds he was making. Chan grabbed your head and stopped you. "Lay down, baby girl," he demanded. He opened the drawer of the nightstand next to his bed and grabbed a condom but he didn't put it on yet. Instead, he took off your lingerie and got between your legs. He slowly kissed your belly, going down your body. He bit the inside of your thighs, leaving marks behind. He finally went where you wanted him to. He licked your pussy lips, making you whine. He teased you, going from penetrating you with his tongue to licking your clit. You were moaning and whimpering, feeling your orgasm approaching. "Chan, please," you moaned. He started to finger you while he licked your clit. It was too much for you and you came on his mouth. Chan kept licking you until you couldn't take it anymore because of the overstimulation. He took the condom, slid it on his dick and, pumped it a few times. He kissed you, making you taste your own juices. He finally started to slide himself into you, slowly. You whined, feeling him stretching your pussy. "Fuck, baby. So fucking good," he whimpered. When he was fully inside, he gave you a deep kiss. He kissed you for a while, giving you time to get used to him inside of you. "C-chan," you moaned. He started to move, pounding into you at a slow and deep pace. You could feel every inch of him inside of you and you loved it. Chan's moaning was driving you crazy. "So good, baby," he said in your ear. His low voice went straight to your folds, getting you wetter. He kept it slow and intimate, rubbing his pelvis against your clit. "Chan, I'm g-gonna cum." "Cum for me, baby girl." You came again, feeling your legs shaking. Chan kept fucking you until he felt his high approaching. "Ah, fuck, baby," he whined when he came, thrusting deep inside of you. Chan lay down by your side. He took the condom off and threw it in the trash bin next to his bed.

He hugged you, making you lay on his chest. You stayed quiet, listening to his heartbeat, no words were needed. Chan played with your hair, his warm arms making you feel safe. Suddenly, your stomach growled. "Somebody's hungry," Chan teased. He started to move so he could get up. "No!" you whined. "I'm gonna get something for you to eat, baby," he giggled. You let go of him and Chan got up from the bed. He put on his underwear and went to the kitchen. You decided to put your clothes on. Some minutes later Chan came back. He widened his eyes when he saw you with your dress back on. "Are you leaving?" he asked, worried. "No, I just wanted to put it back on. Unless you want me to leave." "Of course not!" Chan sat by your side on the bed, he brought a plate with a sandwich and a cup of orange juice. "Here," he handed it to you. You ate while Chan talked about the songs he was producing. It was interesting to hear even though you had no understanding about the subject. "It's getting late. I'm gonna get dressed so I can take you home, okay?" he said. "You don't have to, Chan." "But I want to." Chan walked you to your apartment. He stayed with you in front of your dorm for a while, kissing and hugging you like he didn't want to let you go. Reluctantly, he went back home. When you went inside, you were surprised to see Felix sitting on the couch with Jisung, playing video games. "Wow, finally," he said. "That was a long kiss," Jisung teased. He didn't sound bitter, it really looked like he was being funny, which made you feel relieved. You sat between them, laying your head on Felix's shoulder. "I had sex with him." "Too much information," Jisung said. They laughed. "It's not funny, guys." "What's wrong, Y/N?" Felix asked. "Isn't that good? You've had a crush on him since forever." "Yeah, but what if I gave him what he wanted?" You got up from the couch, frustrated. "He had sex with me, so he will probably run for the next girl to fuck." "Y/N, I'm pretty sure he's head over hills for you," Jisung said. "I'm going to my room." Later that night you finished your project with Felix. It was due soon, so you were relieved but disappointed in yourself. You let yourself go so easily. You didn't want to feel like that, but you couldn't help it. You were feeling insecure. It wasn't just sex to you, you really felt a connection with Chan. But did he feel the same? What if he just acted as he liked you so he could fuck you? Claim you as his so he could show dominance against Jisung? You didn't know. The day to deliver the project finally arrived. You were relieved that it was finally done and the semester was almost over too. Soon you would be on vacation from college. When you were leaving the classroom, you saw Chan waiting for you outside. "Hey," he said when you got closer. "Hi." He hugged and kissed your cheek. "Wow, right in front of me, disgusting," Felix said. "Can I have your phone number?" Chan asked. "I thought of asking Felix, but I wanted to ask you in person. I also wanted to see you." "Yeah. Of course." "Hey, guys. I love both of you, but you are not going to make me the third wheel," Felix said, standing between you and Chan and intertwining his arms with yours and with Chan's. It was the last day of class. You and Felix got a 9 out of 10 on your project. Felix thought it deserved more but you were just happy that you did well. Your teacher said that she was impressed by the theme you chose. She loved how bold it was and it was exactly the type of stuff that she wanted. You laughed about the way Felix got excited because she complimented your project.

You were sitting in the cafeteria with Jisung, Felix and, Chan. At first, the idea of Chan and Jisung together made you uncomfortable, but they seemed to get along, so you were satisfied. Jisung also thought it would be better if he moved in with Felix so Chan could live in the dorm with you, which Chan promptly accepted. You went home with Chan, talking about your plans for your vacation and how you could spend time together. You ate and watched some TV, but you were really tired. Chan laid down on the couch and you laid on top of him, resting your face on his chest. You loved to stay with him like this, feeling the warmth of his body. You just stayed there with your eyes closed and feeling his perfume. Chan's phone rang and quickly answered, he didn't know that you were awake and he didn't want it to bother you. You heard him talking to some guy, he was inviting Chan to a party. "Thanks for inviting me, mate, but I'll have to decline," he said, almost whispering. "I'm with my girlfriend and I want to spend the day with her." You smiled. Chan was what you always wanted and you finally had it, and he also had you.

A/N: This is a long ass fanfic, I tried to proofread it but it might still have some grammatical errors. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

[mercurysnitch]

1976 Guitar (200 follower celebration)

Summary: An Australian runaway walks into a London pub... and finds herself having a drink with the one and only Roger Taylor.

A/N: As promised, my little celebration piece. I actually started this after I hit 150 followers, but I put it aside because I wanted to work on other things, and then decided to keep it for my next follower milestone. Which ended up taking a lot longer than I was anticipating, but hey, we got here in the end. 

Just fyi for clarity, the reader here is Australian, but living in London after finishing journalism training. Yes, even in the 70s London was full of runaway Aussies. But it must have seemed a lot further away in the days before instant messaging and video chat and free phone calls over the internet.

Title is from a Skyhooks song, recorded well after the 70s, incidentally. The bits in italics are lyrics from the song. This isn’t a song fic, and I honestly can’t remember why this is set in 1976 (I think it just sort of popped into my head like that) but those particular lyrics seemed quite fitting.

Warnings: Drinking, light swearing

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

...one night I met a girl at the Sebel bar

And she taught me how to play that 1976 guitar

London, 1976

You decided you liked English pubs soon after you moved to London. They were cosier than the airy places you were used to back home, and the clientele were a lot less rough. Most of the time.

Your favourite pub was your local, just around the corner from your poky little second-floor flat. Decent food, good drinks, and interesting people. The bands playing on Saturday nights were always worth a listen too. Tonight, though, was a weeknight, which meant you were there for a stiff drink and maybe a nice greasy pub meal.

You hardly looked at the bartender as you flopped onto a stool. He floated over almost instantly anyway. "What can I get yer?" "Whiskey please" you ordered, attempting to be polite but mostly sounding tired. The barman smiled. "Coming up." It was fairly empty in the pub, so he returned with your drink almost immediately. You smiled gratefully and wasted no time taking your first sip. But you'd barely swallowed it, still dealing with the afterburn, when you heard a huff of surprise from a neighbouring stool.

You turned in the direction of the noise to discover the source: a youngish bloke with shaggy, pale blonde hair and big blue eyes. He looked strangely familiar, but you couldn't think where you recognised him from. If you weren't so annoyed you would've been taken aback by how attractive he was. Instead you glared at him. "What's your problem, mate?" He flashed you an annoyingly pretty smile. "Nothing. Just don't see many girls drinking whiskey like that." "Like what?" you shot back. "Like they do it all the time. Suits you, though." He flashed the smile again, and you felt your anger ebbing away.

Seeing the smile again seemed to jolt your memory. "Fucking hell," you gasped, "you're Roger-" "Don't say it" Roger hissed, cutting off your exclamation. "You'll tell the whole pub and then I won't get a moment's peace all night." You immediately looked downcast. "Sorry." Roger smiled reassuringly. "It's alright."

You eyed Roger curiously. "So tell me, what's the drummer from Queen doing in a place like this?" He broke into a cheeky grin. "I could ask you the same question" he said flirtatiously. "I've had a very long day and I live around the corner" you told him. "What about you?" "We used to play here, in the early days" he explained. "I always liked the atmosphere, and the people are always… interesting."

Suddenly you noticed him eyeing you up with curiosity. "I like your accent but I don't recognise it. Where're you from?" he asked casually. "Australia" you told him cheerfully. You noticed his expression fall slightly. "Not from Sunbury, I hope" he joked. You grinned cheekily. "Melbourne, actually. But I don’t blame you for not liking Sunbury." Roger was shocked. "You know about that?" You nodded. "I was there. It was a great day, actually, for me at least." Suddenly you smiled. "Anyway, whoever thought booking Queen to play at Sunbury was a good idea clearly knew nothing about bloody Sunbury. Or Australians, frankly." Roger smiled grimly at the memory. "God that was a shit gig. Might be the worst reception we've ever had." "If it makes you feel any better I enjoyed your set" you told him softly. "Queen's just a bit too sophisticated for most Aussies, I think." "But not you?" he asked, smiling. "But not me" you agreed.

"So what brought you to London anyway?" Roger asked. "I got sick of Australia" you told him. "It's so… behind, culturally. Anyone who's a serious artist or writer or whatever buggers off to London or somewhere first chance they get. So when you're still there you feel so far away from everything, it really feels like you're at the arse-end of the world sometimes." Roger grinned. "Arse-end of the world. I like that" he mused. "But I don't think you've come to the other side of the world just because you thought Australia was boring." You stared at him crossly. "Oh yeah? Why d'you reckon I'm here then?" you asked, challenging him with a look. "I think you ran away from something" Roger declared softly. "As far away as it was possible to get, just about."

You stared at him in shock. Now you thought about it, he wasn't exactly wrong. Suddenly your expression darkened. "Well, I suppose I'm running away from my mother and her bloody expectations of how I should live my own bloody life" you grumbled. He quirked an eyebrow. "Expectations?" "She wants me to be like her" you explained. "Find a nice bloke with a ‘suitable’ job, get married, buy a house, pop out a few kids, be a bloody housewife for the rest of my days." 

"And you don't want that" Roger said quietly. He understood how it felt to choose a life different from the one your parents wanted for you. "No, I bloody well don't" you agreed. "I want to achieve things with my life, have a proper career." Your mother had told you several times that there was no point trying to advance in your job since you were just going to quit when you got married anyway. The recent feminist revolutions seemed to have entirely passed her by, but then Australian society in general did have a tendency to run a bit behind on things like that.

Roger's gravelly voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "And what might that career be?" You smiled. "I'm a music journalist. Well, I'm a researcher right now, but I'm trying to freelance a bit on the side." Roger nearly laughed. "Y'know, most music writers seem not to like us for some reason" he observed wryly. "But I get the impression you might be an exception." You grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” "Maybe I would" Roger quipped.

You both drank quietly for a while, Roger gazing at you curiously. "Y'know, you never did tell me what's driven you to drink on a Wednesday night" he commented, casually as could be. "You really want to know?" you asked incredulously. Roger nodded. "Wouldn't ask if I didn't, love." You sighed. "Well, I was supposed to have a date last night, but he stood me up, which was just a delightful way to spend an evening" you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then this morning my boss was even more of an arsehole than usual, and I found out my article that was supposed to be published next week got pulled from the issue, so god knows if it'll ever see the light of day now. And then when I got home the disappearing date had the nerve to ring with a pathetic excuse that I'm almost certain he made up, and apparently he was blind to the possibility I wouldn’t want to reschedule the date he missed until I spelled it out to him."

Roger winced in sympathy. "Christ, that is a shitty day." “Well, it seems to have improved since I got here” you observed, flashing a sly smile. Suddenly he grinned, not bothering to be subtle about eyeing you up again, almost appraisingly this time. “You know, I could make it even better, if you’re interested” he said smoothly. You cocked an eyebrow in interest. “Oh, really? And how exactly would you do that?” “Have dinner with you” he replied, not missing a beat.

You blinked, shocked. “You want to-to what, take me out to dinner? Why?” “You seem interesting” Roger said, shrugging. “Besides, I like having company when I’m out, being alone’s not as fun.” You had to agree with him there. “So is it a date, then?” you asked, still a little uncertain about the turn your evening was taking. Roger smiled cheekily. “If you want it to be” he said. He seemed nonchalant, but you thought you detected a flicker of uncertainty under the rock-star swagger. You grinned. “You know what, bugger it. Take me on a dinner date, Roger.”

******

There were some decisions in your life you would live to regret, but going on that first impulsive date with Roger wasn’t one of them. One date very quickly became many, and before you knew it Roger was a fixture in your life. Well, as much as a touring rock star could be, anyway. You found it oddly satisfying writing a postcard telling your mother you were going out with a shaggy-haired rock’n’roll drummer, knowing he was almost the complete opposite of the sort of person she wanted you to pair up with. You’d also finally managed to get an article published in the paper, but, predictably, your mother’s response to your postcard entirely neglected that achievement in favour of detailing every reason she thought you should leave Roger and return home immediately. None of them really held much weight, and the suggestion your actions would damage your reputation back home was in your view rather forcefully disproven by the enormous quantity of messages you received from both friends and relatives congratulating you on both the article and your choice of boyfriend.

You did eventually find the things your mother wanted for you with Roger, in a way. Technically you never actually got legally married, but you were deeply committed to each other. And you did end up with the big house and the family of your own, alongside a flourishing career in rock journalism. It wasn’t always easy, juggling everything and getting people to take you seriously as a journalist, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Sometimes, just sometimes, you were just a tiny bit grateful for that shitty day in 1976.

In '74 we got tight, in '75 we starred

Then we learned to play that 1976 guitar

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

A/N: I don’t think there’s too many Australianisms in here, but feel free to ask if you’re confused!

Taglist: (as always let me know if you want to be added/removed/think you should be on here but aren’t - it’s been so long some tags have changed since I added them) @wandering-at-midnight @royal-avengers @trumanjo @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @itsametaphorbriansblog @wineandwanderings @simplyvictoria-93 @kotoamor @j1224 @florenceivy @jennyggggrrr @mercurycrowley

[dinosdawn]

First Christmas

This is something that I wrote for me and my friend, who in this is in a relationship with Hyunjin.

Blurb: You and Chris prepare to spend Christmas Eve with your best friend and her boyfriend, Hyunjin.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Language (I use one curse word lmao)

Members: Bang Chan, Hyunjin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a bitterly cold winter, snowing almost everyday that week. Y/N had just finished moving into her shared apartment with Chris and invited Y/F/N and Hyunjin over to spend Christmas Eve together. The apartment was lavish and warm, the main wall being floor to ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of Hongdae, the busy streets and nip of the cold locked out. The walls were cream with crown molding and a hardwood floor throughout the home. 

It had 3 bedrooms; one they shared, and a studio for both Y/N and Chris respectively, a relatively large kitchen with plenty of counter space, 2 bathrooms and a large living room. The walls were decorated in golden tinsel, the doors had holly wreaths, and fairy lights hung from the ceiling giving the room a warm glow. 

Nestled in the corner of the living room was a beautiful douglas fir that had white lights and pink and silver ornaments scattered on it. The tree was home to several presents, Y/N and Chris both agreed only to get the other a few gifts but as soon as they went shopping they threw that agreement out the window. There was a large L-sofa with a coffee table in the middle facing a flat screen.

Y/N had been cooking all day, both American, Australian, and Korean dishes so everyone would feel like they were at home while they celebrated. She made about 7 different main dishes, 5 side dishes, and plenty of homemade candy for everyone to snack on. She really had been standing all day, feeling the effects of being in the same place for over 5 hours but she didn’t mind, it was the first time that she would be spending Christmas in her new home and wanted it to be perfect for everyone. Especially Y/F/N and Hyunjin since it was their first Christmas together. She was so excited to see her longtime friend with someone, even more so that they were in the same group that Chris was in. 

Needless to say Y/N wasn’t surprised when Y/F/N admitted that she liked Hyunjin in a romantic way, and was thrilled knowing he felt the same way. It took some careful planning with Chris to get them to accidentally run into each other but clearly it worked since they’ve been together for 8 months now.

Y/N moved to Seoul 2 years ago to pursue a career in music while studying at Yonsei University. She had been doing YouTube primarily, producing her own music and filming mini music videos and choreography videos. That’s how she met Chris, JYP Ent. had reached out to her regarding a potential collaboration between her and one of their artists and she jumped at the chance. When she went to the business meeting she was still in her school etire, backpack in hand and barely made it.

When she found out who she was going to make a song with she died right then and there. Chris had been watching her on YouTube, stays recommended her music to him during his live, and when he realized she was based in Seoul he took the chance to make something with her. They signed a contract and began a 2 month process of writing, composing, recording, and choreographing a single they were going to release together. 

Naturally they grew closer together and once Chris checked with JYP that it was alright for him to date he asked her on a date immediately. Of course she said yes and it grew from there. That was a year and a half ago, they were very serious at this point and decided to buy an apartment together and move in. Which is where they are now.

Y/F/N, on the other hand, moved to Seoul a year after Y/N did. She saved up for years and was able to afford a small place nestled in the heart of Gangnam. She got a job as an assistant producer for Starship and began to flourish, often finding Y/N staying on her couch because her roommate was fucking in the middle of their shared room. 

Y/F/N viewed Y/N as a little sister and had no problem taking care of her. When Y/F/N finally met Chris, Y/N swore she was going to pass out. Y/F/N did her best not to come off as a clingy fan in respect of him but Chris understood and brushed it off. He even offered to show her around the city and help her meet more people since it’s hard to meet new people with the culture. 

That included meeting the other members of Stray Kids, which also almost killed her. They were all so friendly to her, helping her learn Korean and being very patient with her mistakes and stumbles when it came to the language. The person who helped her the most was Hyunjin, who was proficient enough in English to not need Chris or Felix to help translate, and they began to spend more time together whenever the group would get together and hangout. 

Once Y/F/N confessed to Y/N her feelings, she switched into matchmaking mode, setting up times to meet up but oh no something came up i'll call you later. This went on for a few months until Y/F/N built up the courage to ask Hyunjin out. He was very flustered but said yes, being more shy when it comes to his feelings then Y/F/N was. 

There was about 15 minutes before the couple was set to arrive and Y/N was almost finished with the gingerbread when a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and a chin rested on her shoulder. 

“They’ll be here soon, don’t you want to change before they get here?” Chris’ voice soothed next to her ear. She leaned into him while cutting shapes into the dough. She let out a sigh, “Yes but I need to finish this and get it in the oven before they get here, I want to surprise them with cookies.”

He chuckled and slowly spun her around so she was facing him and kissed her nose. “You’ve been cooking for hours, let me finish up so you can get changed. You haven’t let me help all day baby, you look so tired.” She scrunched her nose up at the feeling and smiled at him. “Alright fine, but I want those cookies looking like Gordan Ramsey made them.” 

They both laughed and shared a soft kiss before she rushed off to change into something more comfortable. She trusted Chris in the kitchen but didn’t want him doing much because he’s been training almost everyday for a month and just wanted him to relax on his vacation. 

She put on one of his baggy hoodies and a pair of leggings and some fluffy slippers. She always felt so warm and safe in his shirts and knew he loved seeing her wear them no matter how much he complained about her stealing his wardrobe. He was wearing a loose pair of pants and a Christmas sweater Y/N picked out. It had a little pug with reindeer antlers and the antlers lit up. It was adorable and Y/N loved that he actually wore it. 

By the time she was done the cookies were in the oven and Chris was putting on Polar Express for background noise, making sure to turn on Korean subtitles for Hyunjin. He didn’t necessarily need them but sometimes they talked so fast it was hard for his brain to keep up. He looked over at his girlfriend and couldn’t hold back the smile as she stood there with her hair pulled back and sweater paws. He loved her wearing his clothes because the arms were always too long so only her fingertips would be visible. 

The doorbell pulled them out of their staring contest and Y/N rushed to the little screen that illuminated the hallway outside their home. The fuzzy screen showed a short figure whose arms were full of presents and a taller figure with a few dishes in their arms. Y/N squealed and rushed to the door and threw it open, not even putting on the right shoes.

There stood Y/F/N and Hyunjin, lightly dusted with snow, and Y/N immediately took some of the presents from her friend. “I thought I told you no gifts yet!” 

“I couldn’t help it, you know how I get.” Y/F/N responded with a huff now that her arms were less full. Y/N invited them inside and told Hyunjin where to put the food and Y/F/N the presents. Once hands were empty hugs were exchanged and they began talking about how life had been since the last time they’d seen each other, literally a week ago, but they loved it non the less.

“Y/N why did you make so much food?” Hyunjin asked while looking at the numerous dishes. Y/N blushed and scratched the back of her head. “I wanted everyone to have food from their childhood so it would feel like home.” 

Chris wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her head. “And you did just that, I wish you would’ve taken it easy though. She was cooking for at least 5 hours, I could barely get her to go change.” Y/N slapped his chest and blushed even harder. “I’m making hot chocolate.” She mumbled and hurried over to the kitchen where she had mugs prepared.

Y/F/N sat on the couch and looked at the tv. “Polar Express?! I haven’t watched this in years!” She exclaimed and grabbed Hyunjin’s hand, pulling him onto the couch with little resistance. He knew that his girlfriend loved movies and couldn’t help but get excited when she did. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him and kissed her head gently before resting his head on hers. 

Chris went to help Y/N with the hot coco and tried to get her to stop ignoring him. It didn’t take much and he knew she wasn’t really upset with him, so when she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and rushed off he couldn’t stop smiling. They carried the drinks over to the other couple and quickly took the same positions on the opposite side of the couch where they all watched the movie full of content. They exchanged pleasantries and both of the girls couldn’t help but sing the hot chocolate song when it came around.

They stayed like this for hours, wrapped in the serenity of each other's comforting touch. They ate food, played card games, laughed and sang for hours til it got late in the evening. Chris and Hyunjin cleaned the dishes while their significant others went into Y/N’s studio to listen to her new work in progress. 

The boys joked around and began talking about what their schedule was going to be once the New Year hit and how hectic it was going to become. They were both dreading having to leave the healing atmosphere of staying at home with the love of their lives but they knew what they signed up for being idols.

After a short while Y/F/N and Hyunjin were bidding the other couple goodbye and returned to Y/F/N home. Hyunjin was staying with her as long as he could, he still lived in the dorms with some of the others. Y/F/N took a shower first followed by her boyfriend. When he had come out and changed Y/F/N put something on the tv and held her arms open for him to join her. He complied with no resistance and held her in his arms.

“Tonight was amazing love.” He whispered while staring at her. She was everything he could ever want in a person. Caring and kind, giving so much of herself while not dealing with anyone's bullshit. He loved her for that. He was so happy to spend the first of many Christmases with her. He looked forward to the Christmas they would spend together married, the ones they would spend together with little ones running around. She was everything to him and he wasn’t going to let that go. Ever.

She smiled and agreed with him. “It was perfect. I’m so glad we get to spend this together. I love you.” He beamed at her. “I love you too.” He leaned in slowly and pressed his lips softly to hers. They were content with what they had and not pushing the other, just simply taking in the other. Never asking for more. They were perfect together and everyone could see that. When they pulled away for air they just smiled at the other, feathering kisses here and there and whispering sweet words that were meant for only them to hear.

Y/N and Chris ended the night in a similar fashion, with kisses and cuddles. Y/N was exhausted both physically and mentally and he knew that. He was content holding her as she fought off sleep to spend more time with him, singing her songs in hopes of helping her drift off to sleep. It took very little time for her breathing to even out and he only allowed himself to drift when he was sure she was asleep.

[gwoongi]

dancer in the dark (pt. 1)

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: rockstar/pop-punk au, smut, angst & fluff rating: explicit words: 33k warnings: slowburn, explicit sexual themes, alcohol use, recreational rockstar drug use, smoking, adult language, dark themes including negative side-effects of drug use and drinking including intoxication & irrational behaviour, dry humping, mental health struggle, koo has an australian accent, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, if things feel good in this fic then wait 4 part two to ruin everything a/n: ok.....hear me out......guk as a lead singer of an alternative-punk-rock band....and he looks like this......and this….. AND THIS………and his band r basically chase atlantic......Ok ur welcome & pls give this fic a chance!!!!!!!!!! i luv it a lot and its probs my fav so far ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰ def a long one so get ur tea and blankets and buckle up! notes: have it. this has been in my drafts since like july. just take it and smile.

dedicated to @httpjeon, who force fed me pictures of rocker jeongguk and repeatedly kept me sane + motivated. thank u sm 

Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him.

BIRTH OF DEVILS. (LONDON)

“That was August Blue in the Live Lounge, covering Thanks For The Memories by Fall Out Boy. These guys have some right talent, don’t they? Yeah...well, you can keep up to date with them by watching their interview with us on IPlayer right now, and they’re also going to be on tour in London and various other American venues within the next few months. I’m proper excited for that...”

No matter how many interview schedules and radio plays, Jeongguk doesn’t feel as though he is ever going to get used to this feeling. 

For now, it is an endless series of chaos, radio stations and newspapers wanting to talk to the newest music craze- because that’s what August Blue were, whether Jeongguk liked that or not. 

August Blue were a band who nobody thought could make it. From early fans of the band, when they were barely filling up Korean venues and getting more than a thousand views on original songs, to big-name celebrities like Axel Choi who had waltzed into Jeongguk’s part-time job when he was seventeen. The man, one of Jeongguk’s idols, had looked him in the eye, considered his band and his dream and said he didn’t have the talent to do anything good with his band, and told him, if you want to be big, you have to be American.

It wasn’t quite the same, or what Axel had intended for it to mean, but four years later Jeongguk now sits number one on the Billboard Charts with his ‘band with no potential’, making a name for themselves, bringing pride to their culture, love with their music, and money to Korea’s economy. The amount of fans that August Blue had collected over the four years of Jeongguk’s band being formally considered a band were unimaginable, many flocking to landmarks to photograph lampposts he stood next to on Instagram, others going to his home-country to enjoy the country that had birthed icons. 

If only Jeongguk had the same love and pride for his country; they had turned their backs on them simply because of their popularity overseas. 

Well, fuck them- Jeongguk and his band are going somewhere no other Korean band or artist can even touch, and while we’re on the subject- Axel Choi can eat a dick! Jeongguk’s not doing so bad for a Busan boy working at 7-Eleven, and while Jeongguk’s drinking champagne like a King on the top of the charts, it’s hard to see everybody else at the bottom.

August Blue leave the BBC Broadcasting House, on their way to the hotel for their last two nights in London before heading back to America. It doesn’t quite feel real yet, for Jeongguk to say that his band have sold out two nights at the O2 Academy Brixton. Admittedly, it’s not as big as their shows in America, which similarly happens to be where most of their fans are located, but for a first time in the UK, it’s a dream to see it sold out with his band's name and faces on billboards nearby.

Beside him in the black van, August Blue’s bassist Hoseok sighs deeply and fastens his seatbelt, his hands immediately rummaging into his coat pocket to pull out his phone. Nevertheless, a smile does dance on his lips; a few fans had gathered outside the building to see them off, as well as welcome them when they arrived for their Live Lounge recording and interview. It still feels surreal for Jeongguk to see his face on shirts, and to hear people call his name. As the car begins to pull out of the car park, Jeongguk squints through the darkened glass at the fans, a bright smile on his face as they cheer, right until the car is out of the building vicinity.

“Should arrive at the hotel in thirty.” From the passenger seat, August Blue’s manager twists to face the band in the back seats. Jeongguk barely lifts his face to see him, his eyes glancing over and then moving back out the window, watching London pass by in a blur. “Try and get some shut-eye. Good job today, guys.”

“Thanks, coach,” Seokjin replies. It’s always Seokjin who does the talking, taking the role of Big Bro whenever August Blue’s lead vocal and, let’s face it, the reason why they have fans, Jeongguk, isn’t feeling particularly chatty, which is more often than not. “Let’s keep working hard, yeah?”

The question is directed out to everybody in the van, and Jeongguk finally looks over. He nods, gently and smiles as if it hurts him to be genuine, and then his attention is back out the window, his mind back with the fans who had screamed for him, his heart filled with the warmth of the memory.

It’s good to be loved, to be accepted. It’s good to be successful when people doubted you could do it.

THE DEVILS ARE DANCING. (VENICE)

“It sounds really good, Jeongguk. Want me to run it one more time?”

Jeongguk shrugs the weight of his jacket off his shoulders, twisting the cable attaching to his headphones so they unravel around his body and raises his thumb through the glass to the rest of the studio. On cue, the familiar sound of the opening melody to August Blue’s updated track, Hold Your Breath, floods through the speakers, slightly tinny but nonetheless clear for all to hear. While Sejin, August Blue’s manager, aids the producer by pointing out minor audio flaws, Jeongguk joins the rest of his band in the studio to gather around. The last to join the group is Seokjin, the drummer who rubs at his wrists pathetically, his duet of drumsticks poking out of his back pocket.

Sejin’s right- it does sound good.

The strums from Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon’s instruments sounds incredible, and it’s probably their strongest non-punk track of the year. Retrospectively, it sounds nostalgic, reminding Jeongguk of those summer evenings in Busan after a tiring day of school and garage-band practise with the guys. When the chorus moulds together, Jeongguk’s lips lift to a satisfied and exuberant smile, the harmonies from everybody’s vocals blending together before the chorus comes to a finale, and Namjoon’s deeper vocals come for the second round of verses.

As he listens, Jeongguk recalls the moment he sat down and wrote this song, back when he was eighteen and feeling like the world was against him. In that respect, this song means a lot to him and the band, reminiscent of a time where it felt impossible to get out of the garage and into venues. Then, when Friends brought them out of small Korean venues into charts abroad and giving them radio play, Jeongguk had stored Hold Your Breath on a memory stick and his worn out lyric book, until the right moment came for him to present it to a studio. It just so happened that ADORA, a respected and famous Korean producer based in the US-of-A, had loved the track, bringing it back to square one where Jeongguk stands still, unaware that the single has finished playing.

“It’s one of our best,” Namjoon admits bashfully, his hand brushing the back of his neck, a habit. He extends his gaze out to the rest of the band, “am I right?”

“Better than Friends?” Seokjin asks, surprised. He tilts his head as if he disagrees. “Nothing can beat Friends.” After that statement, something about another song comes up in conversation but it dies out over the sound of Hold Your Breath being rolled back and played again.

On the other side of Jeongguk, Hoseok hums and claps the younger on the shoulder, the sound of Jeongguk’s hiss ignored and silenced by the excited discussion over the track by the producers, lunch menus between Seokjin and Namjoon. With a slight wince, Jeongguk looks over at the bassist.

“It’s all thanks to you!” Hoseok says, a tight but honest smile on his face. “Without you, there’d be no songs. I’m telling you, we knew you were special!”

“Thanks, Hobi,” Jeongguk replies quietly. “Let’s hope people like it and it sells.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Hoseok muses, frowning. “Just because it has a story doesn’t mean it won’t sell. Honestly, Guk, this one’s great. It’s gonna be amazing.”

Like always, Jeongguk finds that difficult to believe, despite records and albums selling luxuriously every time. It’s mandatory to doubt, especially when you’ve got a lot to lose; August Blue are just another band, another group of guys trying to make a name for themselves across the pond. Right now, they’re not huge, not as big as Jeongguk wants them to be- they can sell out a couple arenas, top charts and headline shows, but they’ve still got a long way to go, still got the prejudice of being foreign. If anything, that only motivates them more. Nothing feels better than proving the white man wrong.

“When it’s finished, we’ll have a promising B-side for the album,” starts Adora, the producer looking over her shoulder with satisfaction at the five guys. “I’d like to run through Dancer in the Dark, though? Adjust the drums, maybe add more to the sax?”

Jeongguk nods, taking a quick sip of water from a bottle on top of the small cabinet pushed to the wall of the studio. “Might work better as the A, actually. Guys, what’dya think?”

“Yeah, sure,” Namjoon replies. “It’s a good song- will probably look better with a music video too. Want us back in the booth for it?”

Adora shakes her head, rolling the song back up. “Nah. Just gonna listen for now. Good job, guys.”

With that, and the familiar opening melody of Dancer in the Dark filtering through the speakers, Sejin claps his hands and gives a thumb to the rest of the band, sending them off for an hour or two until they’re needed again. In ADORABLE TRAP Records, singers were more often than not props, voices for her to play with. Jeongguk provides a demo, a rough idea of what the song should sound like and Adora works her magic, changing tones and amplifying the bass, creating something magical and sensational for when August Blue regroup in the studio at a later time. The band trust Adora and her team, considering she’s half the reason why they’re big worldwide in the first place.

THREE AM is August Blue’s anticipated first full length album, after many months of EP’s and mini albums, alongside the handful of covers accumulated over the years. ATR expects it to be completed by the end of the week, with only minor final touches needed on a select few of the tracks, eleven seamless and sensually exciting songs ready to release to the budding and hungry public. Like always, the pressure of perfection hangs over the studio, intoxicating and infuriating, and as soon as he can escape the room, Jeongguk inhales the clean and purified air of the outer studio, where a leather sofa sits beside a flickering vending machine that’s surely seen better days.

Hoseok groans, massaging the cramp out of his shoulder with his leather jacket still in his hand, spinning wildly with the arms extended out, hugging the air. “God, I’m so fucking hungry. Shall we go out?”

“Mm,” Namjoon agrees, “sounds good. Guk, Jin, you in for some food?”

Somewhere behind Jeongguk, Seokjin sighs loudly- a noise that has the nerve to sound like a whine, childish and ungrateful. “I need to find new drumsticks. Look at the state of these things.” Over his shoulder, Jeongguk spies the blunt ends of Seokjin’s sticks, the smooth and rounded ends frayed and close to splintering.

“How did that even happen?” Hoseok asks incredulously, while Seokjin’s distinct laughter rises in volume.

“Don’t ask,” Seokjin shakes his head in reply. “Anyway, won’t take long. Isn’t that one store nearby? The one owned by the Daegu guy?”

Namjoon confirms this. Not too far away from ATR, located in a renovated storage house in Venice, there is a comfortably successful and trustworthy store that August Blue aren’t strangers to; DBOY is one of the best, expensive and well respected amongst musicians who frequent LA. Jeongguk recognises the name, as if on command picturing the small guy who runs it in his head. 

Of course, it’s not owned by him- DBOY is known for being established and owned by Min Dowoon, a retired music producer whose name is legendary amongst artists and most certainly intimidating to the likes of Busan boys like Jeongguk. Regardless, it is his son, Yoongi, who pretty much runs the place. From what Jeongguk can vaguely remember from the last time he met with Yoongi, he recalled the aforementioned to have a fine and grand collection of ostentatious instruments and equipment. As for the seller himself- well, Yoongi can be a little bit of a nouveau-riche, perhaps even unapproachable, but it’s not as if people go to DBOY looking for a conversation.

Jeongguk might be the lead vocalist of the band, but he most certainly does not regard himself the leader. Due to this fact, he stares back at the other members of the band, waiting for a decision to be made for him. While on stage, Jeongguk enjoys playing pretend and acting as if the world was his for the taking, his for his pleasure, off-stage he enjoyed living quietly and comfortably, some might say obediently, shying under the authority of his elder band-members.

“What? Yeah, of course,” Namjoon replies almost immediately. “It’s on the way to that Korean place we went to last time we came here.”

Taehyung sounds zealous at the mentioning of the Korean restaurant, which pretty much means everybody’s mind has been made up. When Seokjin catches up with Jeongguk and wraps his longer arms around him playfully, Jeongguk finally lets himself loosen the tension carved into his skin from the studio, being pulled and pulling Seokjin out of the studio and into the sunny street.

The drive to DBOY is neither long or difficult, considering the traffic has decided to fall on their side of luck today. Hoseok, who enjoys being the designated driver for the band whenever he can help it, turns right and pulls the car into the staff-only car park, uncaring for the signs that turn him away and parks awkwardly near the shrubs behind the store. 

Without being affected in the face of Seokjin’s disbelieving protests against Hoseok’s parking preferences, Jeongguk undoes his seatbelt in a grouchy silence and hops out, feeling the underneath of his knees aching due to the tightness of his jeans. The front face of his knees are torn, the tan skin poking out and slightly red from where, out of unhealthy habit, he scratches his skin, the only source of colour aside from his skin being the mustard of his shoes, comfy and worn out of love.

He always forgets just how warm America is- not that it’s not welcomed, of course. Only, now he half wishes he hadn’t worn an all-black ensemble, the sun hot on his neck and underarms. The rest of August Blue take their gentle time getting out of the hired vehicle, a cacophony on the right side where Seokjin and Hoseok have stepped out, arguing over the angle of the tyres as if it genuinely makes any difference considering the car is out of sight from the public, meaning it’s bothering nobody at all besides Seokjin, who appears to be the only person complaining. 

Jeongguk just rolls his eyes, over it, and brushes his untamed parting out of his eyes carefully, avoiding catching the curled strands on the bar of his eyebrow piercing.

DBOY, like always, is quiet and glorious, rising high against the bungalow-sized stores surrounding the lot. Its architecture is refined, boxy and brown and all-in-all American, a copy of every brown bricked building you’d see in the movies. And yet, it still stands out, with bright yellow accents like the colour of Jeongguk’s shoes, similarly promoted within the interior if Jeongguk remembers correctly. 

The first time Jeongguk had come here it had been with acquiesce, mostly just to shut Seokjin up after he read a few five star reviews online. That was around about the time Taehyung had joined the band, with little rockstar aura and a gift for the keyboard and saxophone, which incredibly added an accent to August Blue’s music that helped them chart worldwide, a Korean The 1975 as a headline which didn’t seem all that bad, given the leader of the latter seemed down to Earth about it. 

Jeongguk now cannot deny that DBOY offers something to a piece of music that quite literally no other can, hence why he sets off first towards the oversized yellow door and pushes it open with all its weight. Like Yoongi and his brusque facade, Jeongguk’s not shocked to find the door is a heavy metal, requiring attention to push it open, but yet it always catches him off guard, as if he’s expecting it to get easier each time.

Once inside, the all too familiar sound of I Want To Break Free greets his ears, the sound echoey and tinny, like you’d expect for a building with a high ceiling decorated with pipes drenched in the signature yellow. It is bright, and chilly as he enters due to the air-conditioning, yet the warmth engulfing him as all of the band enter and the door closes. On a good day, DBOY is virtually empty; majority of their orders are online and dealt with by another customs manager that is not the staff on duty, which coincidentally is how Yoongi likes it, considering he’s a bit of a black sheep, not exactly enthusiastic about talking when he can help it.

While Hoseok and Taehyung make a b-line towards the vinyls and collection of photographs that Yoongi displays in order to show off how many celebrities he’s had the delight of selling to, Jeongguk follows behind Seokjin and Namjoon as they head towards the desk, pushed towards the back of the store behind endless stacks of records, the left side of the store displaying a rare and gorgeous collection of instruments that Jeongguk ogles at as he passes. 

Yoongi is a personal collector of vintages, including exact pieces and similarly replicas, the newer models closer to the desk where the cameras can keep an extra eye on their condition. Jeongguk has half an idea to make a directional change and head right, but the opening to the operative desk appears before him, or over the shoulder of Namjoon as he walks behind him.

DBOY feels abnormally silent today, not even the distinct humming of Yoongi detectable in the stacks. Namjoon purses his lips, looking around half-heartedly before moving towards the desk, raising his hand to drum his fingers upon the varnished dark wood. The dull sound of his fingertips brings Jeongguk’s head away from the instruments, and similarly, a head from a book.

At first, Jeongguk’s only half-looking. In blunt honesty, he’s not too interested in whoever is behind the desk, a sigh leaving between his lips as he buries his hands into the pockets of his jeans with great difficulty due to the tightness, something which attracts the eyes of the little dove behind the desk, her eyes darting to the refined bulge of his biceps and veins crawling on his forearms.

“Oh,” comes a gentle voice that, with reluctance, pulls Jeongguk’s eyes back over. “Sorry. I didn’t even hear you come in! I didn’t even hear the bell…”

Namjoon’s eyebrows pull upwards. “You have a bell?”

“Yeah...I think?” Questionable. “Well, I thought we did...I bet Yoongi took it out again. Fucker, he doesn’t tell me anything.”

Seokjin leans backwards on one foot, taking a peek back towards the doors where, hoorah, there is a bell on the wall above the entrance. “Oh, look at that. Guess you do have a bell.”

“Well,” finishes the voice, and Jeongguk takes the chance to look at the little display on top of the desk, a complementary addition that spells out the cashiers name in a disgustingly ordinary font. Y/N is what it reads today, which Jeongguk makes a note of and looks away from at the same time. “That bell is definitely broken. Huh. Anyway, sorry. Can I help you?”

“Yoongi here?” Namjoon asks, his weight now entirely reliant on the weight of the desk. By this point, Jeongguk has led himself over to the instruments, the only sight of him being his back marked and outlined by the clinginess of his tee.

You nod once, smiling and slamming the book from your lap on the top of the desk. Never did Namjoon expect for the title to read The Encyclopedia of Sharks, and as you spin in your chair to heckle in the back office, Namjoon glances at Seokjin over his shoulder with an amused smile, his eyes gesturing back to the book earning Seokjin a snigger.

“...and you didn’t tell me the bell was broken at the door.”

Your voice enters the store once more from the back office, accompanied by the smaller frame of Yoongi as he discards a tinfoil ball into the trash underneath the desk.

“Sorry. Y/N, the bell at the door is broken,” Yoongi deadpans, and you sneer in reply, tugging away from his childish and playful smile to be seated. When he’s decided he’s finished fondly looking at you, Yoongi addresses the band in the room, a secondary smile lifts the corners of his lips. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, tour,” Namjoon offers as an explanation.

“Don’t sweat it,” Yoongi shrugs in reply. “You recording?”

“As we speak,” Seokjin pipes in. “And, look- went to some stores in Vancouver for sticks last year and got given this!” His tone is elevated with genuine aghast, holding up his drumsticks and Yoongi pulls a face.

“That’s what you get for going somewhere other than here,” Yoongi frowns. “Come with me. The newest collection actually just came in. You all in here? Keep sticky fingers away from my signed records.”

The remainder of their conversation is muted for you, as you watch the group of guys shuffle away from the desk and towards the display of instruments. Whereas Yoongi holds an extensive knowledge on music and instruments, you can happily and readily admit that it is not within your comfort zone.

Truth be told, the only reason you work at DBOY is for money, and because Yoongi happens to be a relative willing to pay you more than you deserve. Family history is the reasoning for Yoongi’s undying devotion to music, alongside a half-completed degree in sound engineering that he tells people he’s got, because the two years he braved University sure as hell didn’t happen for no reason. 

As for you, you prefer the less audible arts, the ones starting and stopping with paintbrushes and splashes of colour. If someone were to ask, your job at DBOY offers a daily observation of the various album covers dotted around the store, ready to be fingered and thumbed when you’re changing the display shelves, or cleaning the trays.

In simpler terms, Yoongi is the expert. You’re just the person who sits behind the desk and pretends to be a professional.

“Newer Hickory over here,” says Yoongi, as he leads the three ducklings through the store towards the lined stacks of drumsticks. In awe, like a child in a candy store, Seokjin surges forward and gapes at the selection, his eyes glued to a signature collection, signed and overwhelmingly expensive. “Oh, yeah. Queen. Signed by Roger Taylor himself, wanna feel ‘em?”

Seokjin does want; his eyes light up like tiny lamps and they widen in size, followed by the rise and fall of his feet as he hops with literal overflowing excitement. Namjoon laughs at the sight of it, the sound eventually calling Hoseok and Sticky-Fingers-Taehyung away from the pride of Yoongi’s photo collection and towards the rest of the band. Something deep within Jeongguk claws, a smile on his face as he watches Seokjin get visibly excited over the drumsticks formerly belonging to Roger Taylor. Even Jeongguk himself, despite the sudden appearance of his angst, oohs and aahs at the stick set, being directed by Yoongi to the line of new guitars and boxes on show.

“New face?”

By the time Hoseok has settled with the group, Yoongi looks up from the set of Les Paul that Namjoon is admiring for its matte polish and notices Hoseok’s gaze pointed in your direction. Yoongi follows, his chin lifting with satisfactory pride when he sees you’re reading, as always, unfocused on the group and submerged in your own world.

When you wanted, you could be excited about celebrities when they came into DBOY, but there was honestly the high chance that you didn’t even know August Blue. Considering Yoongi knew them through connections and through a year exchange programme in Australia where he had met Jeongguk and gave him advice for the band, he of course felt familiar, close enough to actually consider the members to be friends.

“Sorta,” he admits in reply. “She’s been here a while now. Y/N.”

“She’s pretty,” Namjoon comments, which, to no surprise, irritates Yoongi. He glares in the direction of the guitarist and scowls, his face pulled up with disgust.

That’s when Jeongguk looks over, drinking in the sight of you for the first time ever. Usually, Jeongguk takes great pride in the fact that he fears attachment, therefore closing himself off emotionally to everybody outside of August Blue. Due to this fact, he almost never finds himself interested in anybody, his limitations at sex which, even then, he doesn’t engage in often. 

He spies on you from where he is standing, next to the electric guitar displays, watching carefully at the way you carry yourself, what you choose to show people. What you are doing now is boondoggle, skimming through pages you’ve read before to present the image of you being busy. By luck, you had dressed more nicer than usual for this date- your hair pulled half up and half down, the lilac scrunchy keeping the curls together and a black and white striped dress wrapping around your body to where Jeongguk predicts could be your knee.

Without being modest, there’s really nothing world-stopping about you. Jeongguk knows this as he stares at you; he’s had better, and definitely had worse. God forbid it, but you have the audacity to look normal, mistakenly placed in the store, sticking out like a thumb that is sore.

“She doesn’t look like she should be working here,” Jeongguk throws in, offers almost, and Yoongi regards him with the raise of his brows, an amused smile on his face.

A deep groan rises out of Namjoon’s chest. “Here we go. He always does this- every time there’s a pretty girl, he gets like this.”

“Gets like what?” Jeongguk asks, scoffing.

“Jerky,” Hoseok agrees, laughing and pointing a finger at Jeongguk accusingly. When he silences with small gasps of amusement, he smiles and says, “did you know it’s a turn off for girls?”

“Then tell me why I have more game than you?” Jeongguk quips.

Hoseok just laughs, and both of them know it’s false, considering Hoseok and his unofficial girlfriend have been hooking up for the last five months, whereas Jeongguk has remained single and sexless; which he doesn’t care about, especially when there’s a million other things he could be doing and worrying over. Comfort previously found in pillowcases and sexual endauvers can now be found in white powders and green liquids, either- either warm enough to keep him happy, at least until Seokjin tells him he should stop and put it to rest.

Yoongi quietly twists the key in the display lock after confirming that Seokjin wants the sticks in his hand. “She’s good. She does her job, and in return, I let her do what she wants when nobody’s in the store. Give it a break, yeah?”

Jeongguk scoffs with surrender, raising his shoulders as he lets it drop at Yoongi’s request. Meanwhile Yoongi answers questions about the instruments for sale, lined up for the band to gawk at with ungraciousness, Jeongguk actually turns back around. Another elongated sigh leaves his mouth, the sound of creeping boredom, and finally, his gaze once again settles on yourself. 

You’ve moved since he last looked over; the book on sharks is set on top of the desk again, and now you’re risen. From where he is standing, the desk curves, revealing that his predictions on dress length were fruitless considering the stretch of your dress rises above the knee, bunching around your thigh comfortably. He has to respect it- it’s hot in Venice.

Without particularly wanting to, Jeongguk’s legs wander from his original spot towards the desk, his eyes elsewhere to feign disinterest. The truth of the matter is that he isn’t really interested, unless you counted the dull rise of arousal in the pit of his stomach. That being said, Jeongguk glances up at your face once more and sucks air into his cheeks, hollowing the skin as he knocks on his heels and turns away from you before you can notice. Namjoon was right, to some extent. You were pretty.

“You like The Clash?”

A sweet voice hauls Jeongguk’s attention up and over towards the corner of the desk, where on the other side you stand with both hands flat on the surface, your entire body lifting your weight cutely. Jeongguk’s heart leaps and he glares down at his hands, finding London Calling in his hands, indicating that whilst on his solo mission of pretending to be preoccupied near you, he had just picked up the first thing in front of him.

Jeongguk clears his throat gruffly and shakes his head once. “No.”

For a few seconds, nothing is said. “Oh.” And Jeongguk hopes you’ll leave it there, let him pretend he’s invisible until he’s thought of something to say, but as always, his prayers are ignored. “Do you need help finding something?”

“No,” Jeongguk grits out. He speaks with acrimony, the tone at first catching you off-guard until he looks up, and his eyes tell a quiet story that makes your mouth close tightly. “I’m browsing. Am I not allowed to browse?”

Whether he likes or expects it, the way Jeongguk speaks makes a grin spread across your face, covering your original expression of surprise. He’s not quite sure how to feel about this, or what to make of how his chest feels when it happens.

“Sorry,” you reply, not exactly sounding apologetic. “It’s my job to ask, I guess. Well...enjoy your browsing. If you need me…” Repeatedly, his gaze lifts from the stack of CDs back towards you and it is only when you look away that he allows himself to slip, the smallest of frowns tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Although he knows better, Jeongguk sighs and pushes himself away from his end of the desk. It slides, semi-circular with the front in the store and behind it in its own secluded room, decorated with posters and old lockers that are used for storage. It doesn’t take looking up to register the fact that Jeongguk has moved next to you, parallel; something about Jeongguk feels particularly distinct, heavy and intimidating with the smell of hazelnut that enriches woody elements, a signature male smell that fills your nose.

“So.” Jeongguk starts over, his voice clipped but also clear, as though encouraging a conversation. To you, it feels unpredictable, almost as if talking to him was absurd; to Jeongguk, it is a bravado. “You like sharks.”

Out of surprise, your attention snaps towards him. His expression gives nothing away, and it is only when he raises his eyebrows expectantly that you remember the book, that stupid book you found under the desk when you clocked in this morning after your nine-am seminar. The Encyclopedia of Sharks, smiling razor blades face up at you and an embarrassed heat rises in your body.

“Um, not really?” you confess, avoiding the scrutiny of his stare. Jeongguk’s face is levelled into unamusement, challenging the fact you don’t like sharks in the same way you questioned his interest in The Clash. A bewildered smirk dawns on his face and you smile, tightly and revealing a dimple near your jaw that Jeongguk’s attention is pulled to. “I like Sharknado, though.”

“Right,” Jeongguk replies, finishing with a laugh that is mostly air through his teeth, a snigger of sorts, and he shakes his head downwards, fluffing his hair all within the same movement. It shocks you, genuinely, to hear a laugh come out from his mouth.

While he is busy sniggering to himself, because apparently what you said tickled his remaining sense of humour, you seize the opportunity to dance your eyes across his body. “Your tattoos are pretty.” It leaves your mouth carelessly, but Jeongguk looks up with a smile on his face, a gorgeous set of pearly whites on show.

“Yeah?” he asks, and then he flexes his arms unintentionally, peering at the black ink decorating his skin. Your mouth waters inside, soaking in the sight of him before it’s snatched away, like all the good things in your life. “Thanks.”

“Mhm,” you offer, feeling mortified.

“I saw you’re close with Yoongi,” Jeongguk mentions, after a short pause. “Boyfriend? Best friend? Super close colleagues?”

“What? Ew, no. Yoongi’s my cousin. Well. You know, when someone just becomes a cousin ‘cos you’re close,” you reply, and Jeongguk nods casually, pursing his lips, and it ends there. “Also...none of your business.” He smirks.

On cue, an eruption of laughter simmers from across the store where Yoongi and the rest of Jeongguk’s friends are gathered, and you swallow the lump in your throat and glance at him, finding he hasn’t looked away. “Are you guys, like...in a band, or something?”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. Should he be offended or relieved that you don’t know who he is?

“Something like that,” he nods.

“Can’t be that popular then, if I don’t know you,” you tease, fighting the urge to laugh when Jeongguk’s face falls dramatically. “I’m kidding. What did you say your name was again?”

“We’re called August Blue.”

“No, I meant your name,” you laugh.

Jeongguk splutters, coughing nothing out of his throat. “Oh. Jeongguk.”

There is no reasonable explanation behind why Jeongguk’s stomach feels weird when you smile- it is an unspoken rule that Jeongguk doesn’t do feelings. Jeongguk doesn’t do romance period, only hooks up on the rare occasion that he’s high enough to feel something for someone other than himself. Yet something is unsettling inside, bubbling like the top layer of boiling water in a cauldron, threatening to spill out in waves.

“Well, Jeongguk from August Blue- who I shall be indulging in very soon, as in, when you leave the store and I can do it without you watching me-,” you pause when he laughs again. You wonder if he laughs often, or if you’re one of the lucky ones. “-, it’s a pleasure meeting you.”

“Is it?” he questions disbelievingly.

You tilt your head curiously. “Why wouldn’t it be? I mean, aside from you coming for me doing my job.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Whatever. And, I’m just saying.”

A playfulness grabs at your shirt. “Why? Are you dangerous, Jeongguk?” Your eyes narrow into slits, challenging, and Jeongguk just smirks, exhaling softly. There is something charismatic about him, that’s for sure.

“All I’m saying, is that guys like me aren’t good for girls like you,” Jeongguk settles, unprepared for the unexpected laughter that bursts from your chest, bouncing around the room until Jeongguk actually feels somewhat uncomfortable. “What?”

But the laughter is uncontrollable, loud enough to bring Yoongi back to the desk questioningly, followed by the rest of August Blue as they shadow Yoongi like lost puppies. Yoongi pushes the small gate open and his eyes widen at you hunched over on the desk, secondly acknowledging Jeongguk as he stares deadpan at you, wondering what it was he said that was so comedic.

“You make it sound so simple,” you tell him, once the laughter has subsided. “It’s cute that you think you know what kind of girl I am.”

Hoseok side-eyes the situation as Seokjin fishes out his credit card, feeling as though they’ve all interrupted something they shouldn’t have. What is more shocking is the fact that Jeongguk accepts the challenge- he’s normally isolative with his voice when around new people, only comfortable at home or on the stage surrounded by people screaming lyrics he died to dream up and write down.

“Aren’t I right though?” Jeongguk asks, smiling like he’s got it figured out. “The pretty innocent girls like you...I’m the kind of guy your family warned you about.” While Namjoon snorts, Taehyung nods, supporting Jeongguk’s statement as you look over his shoulder at him.

Before you can even speak, Yoongi barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he returns Seokjin’s card. “Guk, you have no clue.”

If there’s one thing Jeongguk dislikes, it’s feeling as though he’s missing out on something. Back and forth, he looks at both yourself and Yoongi, waiting for an explanation. Yoongi prolongs it, finding sadistic enjoyment in the gradual irritation solidifying on his face, his tongue prodding his inner cheek with a bored expression to match.

“Dude, her daddy’s Axel Choi,” Yoongi snorts, and he laughs loudly when Jeongguk’s whole face drops to the floor, the butterflies in his stomach replaced with an instant sourness, like the bitter burn of alcohol after one too many glasses.

Bewildered, Jeongguk is rendered speechless, and while Yoongi burps laughter and makes a note of the stock now that Seokjin has purchased something, the respective remaining four members of August Blue share cautious glances, apprehensively watching what Jeongguk does or says. Saying Axel Choi feels stupid and minute, but within Jeongguk’s world, it has the same consequence as saying Lord Voldemort in Harry Potter. Whatever attempts Jeongguk has made to forgive or forget what Axel Choi once said to him in that 7-Eleven in Busan is fruitless, the judging and patronising tone clear in his ears, flooding back like a PTSD.

“Wait, what the fuck?”

“Ooh,” you start, lifting up with excitement, “what did he dooo?”, at the same time that Namjoon warningly mutters Jeongguk’s name.

“You look nothing like him,” Jeongguk says dumbly.

“That’s kinda where the step comes in. Stepdad, no blood relation, thank fuck!”

“Come on, Guk, it’s not like she was even there when he shat on all your hopes and dreams,” Yoongi frowns, raising his hand slightly in an effort to diffuse the tension. Purposefully, he ignores the way you look at Yoongi with question, realising instantly that Jeongguk’s behaviour isn’t a matter of personality but instead pride, a desperation to prove himself. “Lay off.”

“He’s family.”

“Is he fuck,” you snort, the sound and language together making Jeongguk even more confused, his head pounding with a mixture of nausea and relief, the upset of his seventeen year old self something he can’t quite shrug off, like the memory of a bad dream. “And, come on. Isn’t that unfair? Put it this way- your dad kills someone, should we go to jail too just because we’re family?” Jeongguk says nothing. “Besides, he’s been married to my Mom for like, six years? And I still don’t like him or get along with him!”

“We just have...bad experiences with him,” Namjoon admits, not forgetting to throw a glare in Jeongguk’s temperamental direction, and he reacts with a jerk, an annoyed scoff leaving his mouth.

Jeongguk crosses his arms. “He told us we’d never succeed. The fucker basically said we didn’t have the talent to be big.”

“And yet, here you are,” you point out thoughtfully, and Jeongguk pauses, acknowledging you fully. “People always succeed when others are negative. I guess we’ll just have to prove him wrong, hm?”

The funny part is that Jeongguk absolutely knows that you are right. In spite of the jarring fact that Axel Choi’s memory is now back in his life with the news of your connections to him, Jeongguk is fully aware of how none of this is your fault. Jeongguk knows better than anybody that baseless judgements were more often unhelpful and toxic than not, and instantly, an apology is brewing in his mouth, words connected by thin strings in his brain, formulating two simple words that feel impossible to mouth. 

Alas, rockstars and their inflated egos; Jeongguk swallows the words back down, battling the urge to say what’s truly on his mind because he’s afraid of what might come out in its place.

So he walks.

Dejected and confused, Jeongguk spares a look at everybody in the room before shaking his head, as if trying to get something out of his head. The worry that slightly pools in your stomach at the sight of it worsens when he storms back down the length of the stacks, closely followed by Hoseok who is a foot away from calling his name. For the rest of the band, it seems, this is instrinctic of Jeongguk, and they quietly but speedily finish up and follow suit. Before he exits, Namjoon smiles over at you, something hidden in the movement that assures you it’s not your fault, even when your agape mouth and stuttering starts suggest you feel otherwise.

Jeongguk makes it out of DBOY before his lungs cave inwards, the hot smell of air pumping into his body as he steps outside to catch his breath. Hoseok’s hand comfortingly presses between his shoulder blades as he finally catches back up with the younger, and Jeongguk refrains from snatching himself away. The demon in his head cackles and the desperate angel pets his hair, tells him that if he pushes more people away, he’ll have nobody. Jeongguk’s not sure if he’s heard that angel speak before.

Hoseok guides Jeongguk back towards the car, silently accepting that Jeongguk didn’t mean it. He never does. He quietly accepts it, patting his leg when Jeongguk sits down once the car is unlocked. Jeongguk doesn’t say a word, not even when the rest of August Blue pile in the car, animatedly talking about the Korean restaurant they’re planning to eat at next. Clockwork routine, they never bring it up afterwards.

The car pulls away and Jeongguk winds the window down with a frown. He’d like a cigarette.

Not that Jeongguk has been counting, but it has been four days since August Blue had visited DBOY. 

Against his tight schedules consisting of long hauls in Adora’s studio, revising songs and making minor changes to each track in preparation for the album release in a few days time, the mere memory of DBOY has been the last thing and least important thing on his mind. In sooth, he doesn’t think about it until he’s alone, vulnerable in his own personal comforts surrounded by white and red. The memory haunts him, keeps him awake for no reason. Jeongguk wishes he could go back, wipe the slate clean, listen to the angel and not be such a prick. He can do this- he does do this.

On the following day, Jeongguk wakes up with a free schedule, waking in bed with the dark grey sheets belted around his lower waist. Casting a glance to his phone that lights up distractedly with notifications, he sees that the time reads eleven am and he yawns. Knowing the rest of the band, they’ve probably scattered already; Hoseok had mentioned something off-handedly last night about spending the day with Roseanne, and Namjoon would most likely be reading alone or exploring with Taehyung, the final man of the hour, Seokjin, sleeping in until it hurts to sleep.

He could do the same, but he doesn’t. Instead, Jeongguk gets himself up and ready, finding his body lead itself back in the direction of DBOY, only realising that he’s come back when he’s outside the front blinking up at the sign.

Somewhere down the street, the sound of screaming reaches his ears- sometimes it’s hard to escape the fans who long for a glimpse at their idols, and to avoid them catching on as to where he’s fled to, Jeongguk hurls himself through the heavy metal door and into the store. It comes as no surprise that it’s empty inside, cool again and this time bursting the lyrics to a Fleetwood Mac record he can’t quite remember the name of but recognises.

The long walk down the length of the aisle is intimidating, daunting as Jeongguk walks and sees nobody behind the desk. Aside from the echoed sound of Fleetwood Mac, the store is virtually silent- admittedly, there is a small group of teenagers at the other end talking quietly, but they are so muted that Jeongguk at first doesn’t realise they are there. Instead he continues forward, slowing significantly when he reaches the desk and finds absolutely nobody in attendance.

For a second, Jeongguk considers leaving. However, the herd of fans he had stalking him outside are no doubt still outside somewhere, and as soon as he considers it, the sound of your voice makes his head snap up attentively. The door that joins the desk space to the back office rattles slowly and then pulls open, and Jeongguk inhales a breath when you step out, as charming as you were five days prior.

Jeongguk is all you see when you pick your chin up, staring at his face closely as he hovers lumpishly, looking out of place. Before he can speak, you regard his appearance, a flattering mixture of tonal blacks; the tight leather jacket covering a black roll neck and tight skinny jeans, even the trademark face-mask that has been pulled below his face, hanging by his neck.

“Oh,” you breathe softly, stunned. “Jeongguk, right?…”

“Hi,” he replies, and you take pleasure in noticing the dulled volume of his voice. “You’re here.”

He considers it a win when you smile. “Well, I do work here.”

“Yeah, I know, I don’t know why I said that,” Jeongguk mutters. “I just...Are you free?”

You make your way towards the desk, gently kicking an empty storage box with your feet. “Sadly, I am always free. You know, considering Yoongi is so popular, this shop is always empty. What’s up with that?” It’s rhetorical, and Jeongguk laughs gently. “What’s up? Left something here? I didn’t think you’d come back...well, after…”

Jeongguk frowns immediately, the unmissable darkened gaze of regret on his face. “That’s actually why I came back. Look.” He sighs, deeply and loudly. “I know it’s not your fault. With Axel.” As he speaks, your gaze is glued on him, your eyes occasionally scanning various parts of his face. “And it’s so fucking unfair for me to hold you against things he said before you even knew him, or whatever, yknow? I guess it just caught me off guard.”

You nod genuinely. “It happens.”

“And, look, I know I don’t even really know you that well, but I can tell you’re just nothing like him,” Jeongguk continues, his temper rising slowly. “You’re kind, and funny, and he’s just an asshole and-” But he stops. And, what? And, he’s still family.

“You’re right,” you agree, laughter spilling from your tongue. “No, he’s the biggest asshole. And his music sucks, let’s be honest.” Jeongguk’s mouth opens, like he wants to speak. “No wonder it took him fourteen years to make a hit…” And he laughs, loudly and in agreement. 

It must be a rarity to see him smile, to hear him laugh; with your heart in the sky, staring at Jeongguk laugh makes you feel warm, your hands quivering with satisfaction at the way his eyes curve into horizontal brackets, like moons, his teeth free with the comfort of knowing he’s safe being happy.

So, explicitly, he doesn’t say sorry like he wanted to. He tries- the words are right there, it would be easy, it is easy. As always, you are understanding, sympathetic to Jeongguk as he struggles to get his words out coherently. You know what he means. You like that he cared enough to try, anyway.

Realistically, he could have left it there, and maintained that stereotypical air of mystery and unavailability he’s used to showing people. On the contrary, Jeongguk finds more reasons to slink back towards DBOY, until he’s entirely familiar with your work schedule, having accidentally turned up when you were at a lecture, and had to suffer the pressing curiosity of your cousin. Yoongi had been so over Jeongguk pretending he was here out of personal pleasure of being surrounded by music that he had eventually just told him your work times, prompting Jeongguk into working harder in the studio to ensure more free time.

Like always, nobody in the band minded. If it meant Jeongguk was investing his spare time in something other than his own loneliness, they were happy to let it be. As for yourself, the reoccuring showing of Jeongguk in DBOY was at first, something you anticipated until the third showing where he had turned up in what you think might be his best look yet. Finally, he wears splashes of colour, his aura breathing with life as he turns up to the store wearing blue denim jeans, with maroon boots and a red beanie over his hair which has been flattened.

Each visit from the man is memorable in its own way, for either parties; you gradually learn that Jeongguk was the lead singer of August Blue, his accent distinctly Australian no thanks to his mother’s dual citizenship that resulted in many family holidays out there, and the year abroad that had chanced him to meet Yoongi. In return, Jeongguk learns that you haven’t even turned twenty yet, your birthday approaching soon, and that your a dilettante, knowing virtually nothing technical about music and instead comfortable in the field of physical art, a first year studying visual art and media.

Jeongguk learns all of this on the third visit. On the fourth, he finds out that you’ve finally listened to his bands music in time for their album release the following day, now in love with the truth of their lyrics, a direct quote from your mouth that Jeongguk remembers perfectly. And on the day of THREE AM’s release, on one of his final days before tour preparations are due to start, Jeongguk finds himself in DBOY with the sound of his own voice on the speakers, and the breathtaking sight of you dancing while stacking the shelves.

It’s a new track, one off the album that dropped this morning. Dancer In The Dark plays all around him, his mind reeling when he reaches you, your back to him and hips twirling as you work. You don’t even need to turn around for Jeongguk to know that you look gorgeous- that’s something that has changed over the past few weeks of Jeongguk returning to DBOY to see you, and annoy Yoongi, respectively. 

Something inside of Jeongguk now craves you, beyond the simple lust he would have imagined. Perhaps it’s the way you didn’t know who he was, treated him like a human being rather than a God; maybe it was the way you’re so ordinary, a taste of normality Jeongguk misses, or the way you’re a relation to someone he’s been working for the past four years to prove wrong. It could well be all three.

The baby blue teddy coat over your body covers your skirt, a display of smooth and tanned legs for him to leer at, your hair once again twirled into loose curls, half up and half down, a signature style like Ariana’s high pony. 

Evidently, you’re unaware of his entry. Yoongi still hasn’t changed the bell above the door and the speakers playing his record are right above your head; this gives Jeongguk the perfect opportunity to quietly approach you from behind, waiting until the chorus fades to an end for him to carefully press his hands into your waist with a soft “boo” pushing between his lips. 

In turn, you jump, his hands momentarily cupping your waist as you move out of his grasp, turning around defensively to see who in the right mind would dare to put a hand on you, only for the guard to be dropped with reassurance once you see Jeongguk behind you, a grin on his face.

“Hi, you,” you say to him, wincing when you realise how loud the music is. “Congrats on the album release!”

Jeongguk laughs boyishly. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Mhm!” you assure, nodding with emphasis. Jeongguk follows the hint of moving away from the loud music as his voice transitions into the opening chords of a David Bowie track. “Do you even have a bad song? Like, the difference between Vibes, Dancer in the Dark and Keep it Up...gorgeous.” He laughs again, feeling over the moon at your authentic excitement. “I really love your voice.”

If humans could melt, Jeongguk would be gloop. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it, I’m glad you like it.” His brows quirk playfully, “Clearly.” He means your dancing, circular swirls to his voice, and you conceal a smile and look away quickly.

“I recognise Hold Your Breath, too,” you continue, choosing to deliberately ignore his playful comment. One might even assume it to have been flirting. “Isn’t that one of your earlier songs?”

By this point, you’ve hopped over the desk, slid over the wood as Jeongguk watched your coat and skirt hike up with the lift of your leg. “Mmm. I see you’ve done your homework,” he comments.

“I got...curious,” you defend weakly. “I like that song. I’m so glad you decided to do a studio version, it is what she deserved!”

Today might be a new record broken for How Many Times Can Jeon Jeongguk Laugh In Your Company.

“Well, there you have it. You can listen to all of it in HD to make up for me not being here for a while.” Your smile falters and Jeongguk smiles in an attempt to ease your disappointment. “We start our promotions next weekend, actually. Just a couple shows in the States, nothing huge.”

“Oh,” you nod, your voice oddly lost and spacious. “Ugh, I’d love to see you live. I bet it’s gonna sound amazing.”

A breath hitches in Jeongguk’s throat. Come on, idiot, jeers the demon inside of him. The angel slaps him on the back of the head but his words do not cease. You haven’t got all day to do it.

“Then come,” he blurts.

Mirroring him, your mouth falls round, open. “...O-M-G, I’d love to...but I’m like...broke,” you tell him, jokingly but around the truth you both know is there.

“Y/N, you can come for free, I’m inviting you,” Jeongguk explains slowly, the grin widening on his face. Awestruck, you’re lost in the beauty of it. “I want you to come. See us play, see me. You won’t have to pay for a single thing- everything’s on me.” He breathes, “Please,” added as an afterthought.

Admittedly, he hadn’t anticipated the following silence. “When?” you ask, breathily.

“Next Saturday,” Jeongguk offers, having thought about it since before the album came out. “At the Hollywood Palladium. It’s our opening show, and I’d just really, really like for you to be there.” You think about the date for a moment, smiling when you realise what day the date falls on.

“Hollywood? That’s...amazing, Jeongguk, really,” you tell him, your voice quiet still. “...Can I bring a friend? When I listened to August Blue, they were there and we both got really invested.”

A weight is lifted off Jeongguk’s shoulders knowing that his offer has been considered. He smiles brightly, the moons back out. “Depends. Is your friend male?”

Now it is your turn to grin, your weight held up by your elbows as you lean on top of the desk towards him, slotted between his hands. His familiar hazelnut scent is strong here. “Yes. He’s male, gay, and incredibly in love with my cousin.”

What Jeongguk feels is not relief, or irritation; an elevated feeling of happiness stirs in his chest. You are so unlike anybody he’s met, from the way you see the humour in everything he says, not taking him seriously enough to treat him like he’s better than everything else, and the way you make him feel like there’s something about him worth liking; to the way you’re probably the only person he’s ever met who genuinely likes the Sharknado franchise. It without a doubt goes without saying that good things pop up where you least expect them to, in people you didn’t anticipate meeting. Feeling like his head is in the clouds, Jeongguk’s lips press together into a smile, bashful in appearance and nods, satisfied.

“Okay then,” he nods, taking a second to grasp the situation before he laughs to himself, scratching his ear absentmindedly. “Here’s my number for then, then. You can call me when you arrive, and then I’ll come out and get you, or I’ll have our manager sort some things out, so you can skip the lines and get in before everyone else.”

“Alright,” you agree softly. “Thank you, Jeongguk.”

Although he shakes his head nonchalantly, feigning only a moderate amount of happiness, on the inside, Jeongguk’s body is screaming, his heart vibrating rapidly in his chest. On the other side, even when he bounces into a following conversation about your hair and the new book placed on the desk that you’ll probably read when you’re bored later today, you feel like you can’t breathe, can’t quite comprehend the fact Jeongguk is standing before you, his number in your phone, the sun unmatching his smile.

Some things don’t feel right, but being with Jeongguk isn’t one of them. Maybe luck is on your side for once.

(LOS ANGELES)

“So. You’ve decided to be late.”

Adjacent to where you’re standing, Park Jimin lies like a starfish on your bedsheets, his chin tilted up to the ceiling in agonising boredom as you fuss over your hair for the literal fifth time in the last four minutes.

Meeting Jimin was both the joy and the bane of your life, the boy being an unstable balance of chaotic and neutral, his sole purpose in life being to annoy the shit out of you. It had been a lovely sunny morning the day you first met him- only it had begun to thunderstorm the second he entered the arts classroom, pathetic fallacy. Being the quiet black sheep clearly did not always work in your favour considering the only spare seat left was the one next to you, meaning fate had decided to bring you both together to sketch still-life pears and grapes. Either that or a case of big, bad luck- the opinion differed depending on who you asked.

Regardless, here you both are; by cordial invite from Jeon Jeongguk himself, you have around twenty minutes to get to a venue that is thirty five away, and Jimin huffs for the fifth consecutive time, pointedly glancing over as you finish applying a generous amount of lipstick that no doubt will fade during the show. Your face is an art-piece, your body modestly covered in a silk buttoned shirt patterned with red flowers, tucked into some comfortable black jeans that Jimin turns his nose up at.

“They’re comfortable,” you argue weakly, finally following him to the car and deciding to do your shoes in the backseat. As half promised over text, Jeongguk sent a vehicle, the driver impatient and displeased by your tardiness but he says nothing, because it’s his job to drive, not to speak.

“Skinny jeans are the most impractical outfit for getting dicked down,” Jimin says with a clipped tone. “And isn’t it obvious that Jeongguk wants to do that?”

You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. “It might not be like that.”

Jimin genuinely laughs. “Oh, come on- it totally is. Why else would he invite you backstage, send a car, and stop by at your work almost daily?”

“Maybe he wants to be friends?” you suggest, but both you and Jimin know that’s so far from the truth that you can’t even see it- you just don’t want to admit it just yet. When Jimin’s tongue darts out of his mouth with a smirk, you roll your eyes and lean down to your feet as the driver cruises down the street on the clock.

[17:39PM] Jeongguk 🎼: hey are you on your way?? [17:39PM] Jeongguk 🎼: havent heard from u [17:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: u ok?

About ten minutes into the drive, almost peaceful save Jimin’s random questions about Jeongguk, or the venue, neither particularly answerable at this stage, a series of notifications flood your phone. Taking the chance to answer while Jimin finds time to bully the driver into talking to him to cure his driving boredom, you glance down at the messages, your body reacting with a flush when you see Jeongguk’s name light up in bold.

[17:41PM] You: yes !!!! in the car rn

His reply is instantaneous.

[17:41PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok cool 😋 as long as ur safe [17:42PM] Jeongguk 🎼: got worried lol

“Five minutes,” the driver calls, to nobody in particular as he pulls up to a set of traffic lights. Oblivious to speed limits, he seems to have got you there in the designated twenty, before the gates opened for the crowds outside.

[17:44PM] You: we will be there in five minutes ☺️ [17:44PM] You: : i’ll text you when we’re here [17:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok cutie, see you then 😛

You are grown, and too old to be crushing over a boy like you’re in high school, but the way Jeongguk interacts makes your toes curl with a whole new alien type of fondness, the need to giggle paramount. You refrain from doing so, because if Jimin hears he will never let you live it down. In an effort to ignore the excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins, your leg bounces erratically as the driver, who is apparently named Joe after the chauffeur bodyguard in The Princess Diaries (no thanks to Jimin and his “boredom” which borders insensitivity), pulls up in the barricaded staff car park. The fans outside have no idea: they just see a car and start screaming, their cheers making goosebumps ripple up your arms like romantic kisses.

“That makes me feel really important,” Jimin mutters, perhaps glum about the fact that he hasn’t had this much attention since he was chubby and innocent in third grade. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” you breathe, unsure as to whether or not you mean it. Nevertheless, Jimin opens the car door and steps out, instantly making a crowd gathered by the barricade scream. They scream for anything, just wanting to be heard, but being Jimin, he soaks it up as you clamber out on the other side.

Jeongguk seems particularly popular, and it probably wouldn’t look good if fans saw an unknown girl get out the car to go backstage. You know how fans are, how it’s easy to jump to conclusions without the facts. While Jimin raises his hand to teasingly wave at the girls who scream in response, you follow Bodyguard Joe to the backstage door guarded by two oversized muscular men, bowing your head as you enter and feel the heat of the backstage rooms hit you in the face.

At some point, Jimin joins you inside, shuffling around your body when he spots Yoongi appear at the end of the opening corridor. Yoongi is always invited to August Blue shows, by personal invitation of the band-members who are mostly Namjoon. Remembering that Jeongguk technically has no idea you’re here, you quickly shoot him a text message before a female staff member touches your shoulder gently, offering a lanyard with VVIP written in black ink, likely a band members handwriting. She smiles, quickly running over the safety regulations because, give her a break, it’s her damn job. You’re nodding, acknowledging her words blindly until she’s done, sending you on your way towards Taehyung who pops his head around the corner and smiles brightly when he sees you.

“Hey, you!”

Quite honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever said a word to Taehyung before. He doesn’t seem particularly awkward to speak to you despite this fact, and beckons you closer with a wave of his hand. As you draw nearer, you smell the faint aroma of vodka crossed with raspberry, clinging to his clothes and mouth as he comes close to speak so you can hear him over the heavy bass filling the speakers.

“What?” you ask him loudly, seeing his mouth move with nothing coming out. All you can hear is the recording of Obsessive on the speakers, pounding, reverberating the floor beneath your Dr Martens.

“I said,” Taehyung shouts, his lips on your ear, “Jeongguk’s waiting for you. I need a wee really badly, but he’s in the artists lounge, that way.” He points vaguely in a direction, but the sight of Jimin stepping in and out of a room indicates the general direction regardless. “Enjoy the show, yeah?”

“Course!” you nod to him, and he wastes zero seconds staring at you and legs it in the opposite direction, towards where you assume the toilets are. Your eyes follow him as he leaves in endearment; he’s cute, constantly looking bewildered and confused. It’s his almond eyes, like puppy dogs’.

But the thought of seeing Jeongguk outweighs watching Taehyung leave; you hurry down the corridor and enter the room you expect to be the artists lounge, and your breath is taken away immediately when Jeongguk is the first thing you see.

As if anticipating your entry, he stands the second you enter, and while he moves, you freeze. Jeongguk looks absolutely breathtaking: his hair is curly, falling over his face with a slight parting not directly centered, hooped earrings hanging from his earlobes, adding a sparkle secondary to the way his eyes are shining in the backstage lights. His skin is gorgeously tanned, shaded and accentuated by the slipping material of his shirt that reveals the expanse of his collarbones, the black complementing the tightness of his jeans. You don’t get to look at his shoes- he stops at your toes and you peer back up at his face, rendered speechless by the smile on his face.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says, laughing as if it’s so crazy that you’re here, actually here. Before you can even think of speaking, Jeongguk inhales a breath and brings it back in with one movement; he reaches for you, encircling his arms around you for a quick hug that you’re not going to let go to waste. As soon as he feels your hands on his back, he pulls you closer, tighter almost, one hand on your lower spine and the other on the back of your head.

The hug is genuinely short, but it feels eternal.

“You made it,” he comments, his voice so bewildered that for a moment, you’re actually confused. Jeongguk speaks insecurely and it makes your heart wrench- you wonder who hurt him before, what made him think that he wasn’t deserving of things as simple as somebody coming to a show when he asked them to.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” you tell him truthfully, your arms slipping to his forearms. “I’m excited!”

Jeongguk grins happily. “Me too! Ah, I’m happy you’re here. You look gorgeous.” And without shame, he drags his gaze up and down your body.

“That’s good, then,” comes Jimin’s thrown in comment from across the room, where he occupies one of the leather seats next to Yoongi and across from Hoseok, who fidgets skittishly and fiddles his fingers at a Rubix cube. “Do you know how close we were to being late because she was busy deciding a lip colour? Jimin should I go red or nude? Jimin does this shirt go with my shoes? Jimin should I paint my nails red or black to match?”

A laugh ripples out of Jeongguk’s chest and he looks back at you adoringly.

“That’s not how it happened,” you protest weakly, pouting when Jimin cackles and smirks. “And we made it didn’t we? Shut up before I revoke the plus one card.”

“I’m already here, though,” Jimin reasons.

“I’ll force you outside,” you reply.

Yoongi pulls a face, then, finally joining the conversation. “Y/N, you can’t even open the front door to the shop when you enter, let alone drag Jimin outside. Nice try, though.”

An offended gasp leaves your mouth and Jeongguk turns around, petting the top of your head. “It’s okay. Sometimes, even I can’t open it. Anyway- drink?”

You decline this offer, not really wanting to drink anything heavy in fear of vomiting it up when the show starts. Based on your history, throwing up when you’re overly excited seems to be a dirty habit, something Jimin is very happy sharing when you opt for a glass of water while Jeongguk carefully pours himself a glass of whiskey. He doesn’t tease or poke fun. Jeongguk simply smiles, like the story is a memory he’s fond of remembering, and nods you in the direction of the couch where he wants you to sit. It stays this way right up until the show starts, and then the chaos begins and the nerves settle.

Now, you’ve never been backstage before, never seen how crazy it gets as the show’s about to start. While the rest of the band hurry around collecting outfit pieces, taking a drink or tuning their instruments to perfection, Jeongguk quietly tugs at your arm and brings you to the side, a gentle and reassuring smile on his face, a frequently used expression when it concerns yourself.

“Rachel is our main backstage manager and she’s gonna take you and Jimin down to where I’ve put you for the show, yeah?” he explains, his gaze intent. Rachel is the woman from earlier, smiling patiently near the door. You spare her a glance and then look back at Jeongguk. “I’ve put you down by the stage so I can see you, okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re not in the crowd, you’re right by the stage in front of the barricade with the staff,” Jeongguk says. “Safe and sound, comfy and cosy. Can you come back after the show? There’s a party. I’ll- I’ll take you?” His tone is expectant, hopeful, and you’d be absolutely insane to let him down.

“I’ll come,” you promise. “Good luck!”

Again with the boyish charms; Jeongguk’s following smile is relaxed and lopsided, his head similarly quirked.

“Thanks, baby,” he calls, his smile widening when he notices the surprise flood your cheeks. “Cheer loud for me?”

“Always,” you tell him, gauging the scrunch of his eyes before Rachel directs both Jimin and yourself out of the backstage vicinity and towards the VVIP standing just next to the barrier. Whether or not Jimin overheard the entire ordeal is unclear; he doesn’t comment even if he did happen to overhear, remaining uncharacteristically silent until you reach your spot and he loosens up, gazing up at the stage in wonder.

When the venue feels packed to the brim and the reverberating bass of guitars literally vibrates the room, Jimin screams something about his excitement over the noise, catching your widened smile in his direction and laughing, throwing his arms around you.

Hollywood Palladium is genuinely packed to the brim, the fans by the barricade stamping excitedly as the VCR rolls to an end, the lights fade to a crimson red and silhouettes of August Blue appear on the stage. They are sensational, eliciting a chorus from the crowd that is deafening. Jimin laughs again, looking back and forth at the crowd and back at the stage, two girls from the barricade recognising him as the guy from outside and taking a photo, likely anticipating that he is of importance.

Like all concerts, the first five minutes are mind-blowing, epic and fantastical and slightly nerve-racking for all parties. At the sound of the opening chords of Meddle About, another wave of screams pierce the crowd and you wince, not expecting it but a smile still wide on your face. The cymbals crash and the lights flash brightly, revealing Jeongguk on the stage at the front, both his hands on the microphone as he speaks the first words of the night, lyrics dripped in smooth vocals that make your body swirl like on drugs. It’s mesmerising, sexy and sounding perfectly like the studio recording.

Hearing them live is a whole different experience- the way that August Blue perform is otherworldly, feeling like you’re in a subspace of slow-motion, every movement on stage emphasised. Not wanting to waste all of the show gawking at the lead vocalist, you glance at all of the other members, in awe of their talents and presence on the stage, even spotting the golden gleam of a saxophone in your peripheral vision. It is only then that you register the fact that Taehyung plays the saxophone live, and excitement and anticipation replaces birthed nerves from the opening song.

When Meddle About fades to a finale, Jeongguk smiles to himself widely as the melody to Obsessive plays almost immediately after, Namjoon’s riff introducing Jeongguk’s welcoming, “Hollywood Palladium, are you ready?” before he dives into the song. Here, Taehyung fiddles for his sax and beams down at both you and Jimin, returning to his spot to play as the song continues.

Like all songs from August Blue, you wish it would never end, your heels grinding the floor as you bop in Jimin’s arms, his chin buried in your neck as he rocks you from side to side affectionately. For the entirety of the song, and even after then, you refuse to take your eyes off Jeongguk; he moves with calculation and care, the world his bitch beneath his feet as he smirks, fucking the crowd, swirling in figure eight motions as he sings. Jeongguk is the eighth wonder of the world.

Obsessive ends, your torso rising and falling after their performance. It was a show of elan, your body buzzing with small vibrations like a bumblebee; Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, and he exchanges caring looks with the other members, giving them the opportunity to catch their breath as he once again addresses the crowd.

“Hollywood…” he starts, smiling wolfishly when the crowd erupts into piercing screams, the fans at the barrier pounding against the metal bars impatiently and Jimin eyes them cautiously, wrapping his arms tighter around you and considerately shuffling further away. Jeongguk glances down, then, making sure everything is okay, and his eyes fall on you. The first thing he sees is your smile, enamoured and bright and wide, like golden light at the end of a dark tunnel he can’t get out of. You notice now that he speaks how strong the accent is, months and years of Australian visits clearly paying off. It’s nice, new and different, completely unlike how he speaks in Korean. “We feelin’ good tonight?”

The crowd respond gleefully, and Jeongguk chuckles into the microphone.

“Thank you all for coming out here tonight,” Jeongguk begins, swaying slightly on his feet. The movement is endearing. “Being here, on this stage, is something we have dreamed about, and now that we’re here...Wow. We couldn’t be here without you guys. Everyone who’s here- friends, family, lovers-” the crowd scream because they’re used to being mentioned this way, but when Jeongguk’s gaze briefly flickers down to you, you immediately burn up, curling into Jimin as your best friend laughs knowingly, squeezing you tighter when Jeongguk finishes his speech to the crowd, “-you guys are fucking awesome. You like the album?”

Of course, Jeongguk is not alone on the stage. Reminded of this fact, you pay attention to each members introduction, occasionally finding your eyes wandering back to the lead vocalist who seems to always be staring back. In a sea of screaming fans and waving banners, Jeongguk’s eyes land on you each time, as if reminding himself that you are here, you are here for him.

When the band finish their introductions and Jeongguk says his piece, and the opening hum from the guitars around him announce Dancer in the Dark, Jeongguk glances at you one final time and sees the way your body reacts to the song familiar to your ears, a curve extending the corner of his mouth. Jeongguk brings his attention back to the crowd where it will stay for the rest of the concert, his mind wandering between each lyric and break. Maybe- just maybe, things would work out for him in the end.

DEVIL IN THE DARK. (HOLLYWOOD)

There is a constant hum in your ears, your fingertips vibrating as you force yourself out of the car.

Judging by the sky draped in an ebony black, it’s either extremely late or extremely early, the loud music from the large estate already audible and you haven’t even entered the party yet. Even though Jeongguk had expected to take you in his personal vehicle to the party that would celebrate their first American show of the year, things hadn’t exactly gone to plan; his eyes met yours as soon as you hurried backstage to find him, pleading and frantic and your name on the tip of his tongue, unspoken when Rachel ushers the band out of the venue after an already overstayed welcome. Still, the frequent vibration of your phone under your thigh when you settled travelling with Yoongi and Jimin instead kept your thoughts preoccupied, Jeongguk’s contact practically permanent on your lock screen.

[23:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: shit !!!!! [23:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: i wanted to wait but they kept pushing me outside [23:41PM] Jeongguk 🎼: did u get out safe? [23:43PM] You: yep don’t worry !!! [23:43PM] You: we’ll be on our way soon [23:44PM] You: im hungry so we’re getting food first oops [23:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok baby see u soon [23:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼 is typing…

The triple dots are constant.

Bodyguard Joe is the driver who drops you off, muttering under his breath when all three of you pile out the back and he’s free to leave. Before Yoongi can even shut the door properly he is speeding away, desperate to get out of there. Yoongi can’t say he blames him- he’s only staying for a little bit, at least until Jeongguk starts being Jeongguk. He deliberately doesn’t mention it to you. He wants you to see it for yourself.

Inside, it’s hard to see through the smoke. There had only been about fourty minutes difference between Jeongguk arriving there and the three of you, and evidently, they waste no time bringing the party into motion. Already, guests either by invite or chance are drunk, intoxicated with dark beer bottles and shot glasses, a wreckage of splintery glass by the door surrounded by a pair of shoes, like a warning. The lights are dimmed, each room dark save a lamp with a dying bulb or LED lights, flashing rainbow colours to the beats of songs, the smell of alcohol and weed lifting in the air. It’s rancid, strong and pungent but typical of parties you’d expect celebrities within the realm of Jeongguk to do, people who held the world at arms length.

Along the wall, the coat pegs are covered in a bundle of mismatched coats and jackets, a single Converse hanging by its laces as some sort of practical joke. In light of this, you decide to just keep your coat thrown over your shoulders, the black suede comfortable and moreover protective as faces you’ve never even seen before regard you with high interest as you pass. Jimin scowls and drags you closer to him, Yoongi leading the way with a gaze that could kill, parting the sea of dancers like Moses. The vibe, however, remains undisturbed, the bodies continuing to dance and drink as they were before Min Yoongi stepped through the mix, with two virtual nobodies behind him. He knows where he’s going- he’s done this before.

This mansion is a maze, with corridors leading everywhere, filled with bodies you didn’t know. You deduce that the main parlour where you’re headed to is the hub of the party, judging by the way the small groups of people outside become multiplied, the sound of laughter and music louder when you enter through a doorway. The room is soaked in an indigo neon light, the long haul of strip lights attached to the moulding by the ceiling by silver pins; almost all of August Blue accommodate one of the recliner sofas, one particular male suspiciously absent.

“Yoongi!” Faintly over the sound of the music, Namjoon’s voice carries its way to your trio, Yoongi’s attention moving to the band and he moves in that direction, with both Jimin and yourself close on his heels. Namjoon already looks affected by the alcohol stirring in a whiskey glass, the colour clear and making no difference when it sloshes over the side onto the bare skin of his forearms. Exchanging a tight lipped smile with Hoseok, who seats a beautiful girl on his lap who sips her drink quietly, you glance around the room for Jeongguk, your heart sinking when you don’t spot him anywhere.

“Great show,” Yoongi says, now that the music has been turned down somewhat, no thanks to Taehyung who has just stepped out of the bathroom and winced at the volume, now sitting back in his original spot beside Seokjin and his widened legs. As an afterthought, he adds, “as always. This is Jimin, by the way- and you know Y/N.”

Seokjin looks up from his glass: “Hi honey. Good night?”

“Yes, it was amazing,” you reply, your eyes wandering again. A few strangers are seated on the couch alongside the members, including three girls you aren’t familiar with. Two look out of this world, mentally vacant and the third watches you carefully, her lips pouted sourly. “Hello,” you call to her, uncomfortable.

“This is one of Rosanne’s friends, Cassandra,” Seokjin introduces, although he doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic.

“Cassie,” she throws in.

“Oh, like the song,” you judge, looking back at Seokjin and catching the roll of his eyes before he can hide it away. Concealing a smile you look back at Cassandra.

“Yeah. Isn’t that funny?” she asks, giggling sweetly. “I like to tease Guk about it. It gets him shy. Did you see him on the way in, by the way? I’ve been looking for him.”

Oh. So she’s one of them- it’s evident in the way August Blue glance over at her with annoyance, glancing back at you with a blank stare. You know better. “No, actually. I just got here.”

“Well,” Cassandra-Cassie continues, smiling tightly, the look so ingenuine that it looks as though it hurts her to fake politeness, “if you see him, let him know that I’m looking for him.”

“Does he even know who you are?” Jimin asks before he can stop himself. Cassandra narrows her eyes.

“We met in passing.”

A snort exits Jimin’s nose. “If he remembers you, I’ll genuinely be surprised.”

Whatever is or isn’t said by the rest of the couch is unheard by you; once Jimin has finished his slander of Cassandra-Cassie whilst perched on Yoongi’s knees, you decide you’ve heard enough and pick yourself back up off the couch despite having only just sat down.

Whoever remains at the couch pays you no mind, aside from Yoongi who nods gently as you gesture to the connecting hallway, an arch in the cream smooth wall that no doubt leads to either the outside, the kitchen or a bathroom, perhaps all three at once. His eyes do not leave you until you’ve wormed your way out of the room, quietly and meekly weaving through bodies on the walls and declining at least three drinks offered in your direction. After peering into several rooms, including the kitchen that was far too crowded and scorching to even enter, and glanced out through the french doors to the scattered party outside, looking on the patio glowing in blues and pinks, the pool splashing with laughter.

Even the end bathroom that is larger than the kitchen is practically empty save the guy passed out in the bathtub with a glass of sparkling champagne in a slender glass on the sink, and you suddenly feel very dejected, closing the door behind you as you exit back to the long hallway. Maybe everything was too good to be true- maybe girls like Cassandra were girls Jeongguk had invited, like he had you, suddenly ghosting when they all appeared in the same room. It feels rude to assume that, but with no text messages or indication as to where he might be and with whom, disappointment begins to simmer in your stomach.

It nearly settles, confusing dejection with nausea and the thought of Jeongguk having played you is a thought you ruminate, until you’re halfway down the hall and a door to a connecting room that has now opened welcomes a body cloaked in the bedroom darkness, an arm leaning out to grasp your sleeve and pull you inside.

A strange sense of deja-vu hangs over this situation, familiarity striking with the hand that unwraps from around your arm and meets the second around your waist. Before you have even finished twirling to face the body in ownership of said arms, the sound of quiet chuckling makes you relax instantly, a smile growing when you fall with a soft thud against the torso of Jeongguk, his mouth in level with your eyes.

“Hi, stranger,” you laugh softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Jeongguk hums, and you catch a whiff of alcohol practically pouring off him. “Been hidin’. You found me, you win.” Jeongguk does a poor job of attempting to be sober, his speech slurred and his smile cheesy and smirkish. “I was tryna ride with you, but Joon shut the car door and we just drove off, you know?” You honestly don’t, but you nod anyway. “Tried to call you but dunno where my phone’s gone. Think Joon’s got it.”

“That explains why you weren’t replying,” you say, mostly to yourself. Jeongguk inhales the air through his nose quickly, one sniff, and relaxes his arms around your middle; his forearms are resting on your hip bones with his fingers gently stroking and drumming against your lower back, and it is here, with him so close, that you notice the glow of sweat on his hairline, the fringes slightly matted down and smudged black under his eye, glitter shines of his eyebrow piercing. “Got worried about you.”

“You were worried about me?” he repeats, that same smile on his face. Jeongguk sounds so amazed by this fact, so bewildered that you’d care.

Anticipation whirls in the pit of your stomach as his voice drops in volume and hardness, and the school-girl crush swims back to bite when Jeongguk’s forehead bends to press against your own, the taste of alcohol on your tongue before he’s even leaning in to kiss you. Jeongguk’s hands immediately fly to cradle your face, accidentally bringing a fistful of hair to your cheek as he holds you, practically picking your face up to warm to his mouth. It is just one kiss, long and deep and soft, leaving behind the taste of a bitter liquor.

Jeongguk’s eyes open through slits when he pulls away, analysing how you still haven’t come back to reality from it, and so he moves in again, in a body roll motion stealing a second kiss, his lips pressed up against you in full. He doesn’t know if it’s the booze in his veins or the electrifying feeling of your hands over him that has him buzzing all over- it could be both, for all he knew.

Beginning to doubt his own self control when you mumble and sigh into his mouth, Jeongguk gently brings himself away, out of the kiss and sending your eyes open in a daze. Cracking his own eyes open, Jeongguk restrains himself from going right back in- the orange glow from the outdoor lights shine on the left side of your face and his heart leaps, drumming in his ears. He frowns loudly, feeling your thumbs rub against his wrists. “Sorry.”

You pause, “Why?”

“For making you worry,” Jeongguk explains, his voice murmured through pouted lips. “I made the baby worry.”

“The baby?” you repeat, chuckling. He grins. “We’re almost the same age, y’know.”

“The baby,” Jeongguk coos, his giggles indicative of his level of soberness, which seems to be unlikely. “Little nineteen year old baby-”

“Twenty,” you add, and Jeongguk stops with a quiet “huh” that sounds like a baby, ironic. Jeongguk remembers you telling him your age, and that you’d be twenty soon. Had he missed your birthday? As if hearing his internal struggle, you smile softly: “Today is my birthday, actually.”

Truly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. His mouth hangs agape, like the information was sacred. “What…? You didn’t say anything- I could have got you something, done something-”

“This whole day has been a gift,” you stress, cutting him short and calming him down. “Truly. My Mom and Asshole are in the Maldives because that’s more important than me, and so I went out for breakfast with Jimin, skipped my yoga session because treat-yourself-vibes only on my birthday, and then I had the best time at your show and now we’re here. So, honestly-” as you talk, you finger his shirt, wrapping the material around your nail, “-everything has been amazing. This is my gift- you are my gift.”

Jeongguk pouts. “You’re way more important than the Maldives...you wanna go to the Maldives? Shall we go?” Based off the state of things, Jeongguk is a playful, chatty and overall excited drunk, his eyes blown wide with what you hope it just alcohol buzz. “I’ll take you.”

You laugh, gently stroking his jaw and very briefly, before he can get too addicted, kiss him. Before Jeongguk can pucker his lips back for you, you’re back on the ground with your feet flat, shyly smiling at the way he still tries anyway- because you can’t blame a man for trying.

“You like the party?” Jeongguk asks, unconcerned. His hands are back on your back, now, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“Mm, it’s fun,” you agree. “Will you come out and join all of us? We’re all in the lounge-” you smirk up at him and he raises his brows, “Cassandra is there.”

“Who the fuck’s Cassandra?” questions his voice, and you laugh loudly, surprisingly gleeful.

“Someone else who was looking for you like me,” you tell him, frowning. He hums, interested in this fact and your expression. “Think she likes you.”

Outside the door, someone rattles at the handle, the noise falling short as though they’ve been stopped from entering. Jeongguk seizes the last word with a triumphant smile.

“Don’t worry,” he assures, and your gaze drops to his lips as his teeth drag on the bottom, pulling teasingly. “I’ve got my eye on someone special.”

There had been reasoning behind Yoongi’s decision to not mention Jeongguk’s habits.

For one, it’s none of his business to talk about what Jeongguk does and doesn’t do when under the influence. Secondly, he feels as though he’s not supposed to say, like it’s a secret he’s sworn to keep. Truthfully, Yoongi doesn’t want to give the wrong idea- he doesn’t want the truth to be misunderstood or misinterpreted, and so he stays quiet. Like all other members of August Blue when Jeongguk touches alcohol, he’s quiet. At this stage, there’s nothing he can do but wait for Jeongguk to stop, patient and helpful.

It has to be early hours, now, and if Yoongi’s phone wasn’t dead, he’d check. By this point, the party is on its last legs, the volume of people decreasing dramatically as songs become more slow and sultry, all the lights blood red. It’s about time he and Jimin leave, actually; like always, Seokjin and Taehyung have disappeared into one of their bedrooms on the second floor, and Namjoon is asleep on the couch with his mouth ajar, Hoseok and Roseanne planning to remain present in the hub until the party goes to sleep, because someone needs to clean up, and it sure as hell won’t be anybody else.

Yoongi bids his farewells individually, with Jimin needily clinging to the sleeve of his shirt with the vodka oozing out of his body, his head on a whole other planet. By the time Yoongi makes it to the other side of the room where you are with Jeongguk, he’s worried Jimin might actually fall asleep before they get to the car.

Something interesting has happened. Yoongi slowly moves towards the leftover crowd around Jeongguk and sees your face immediately, worry crossed with affection etched into the look on your face as Jeongguk tightly holds you on his lap, his legs twitching and smile on display. It’s around about this time Yoongi begins to overthink it, letting his gaze drop to your hands holding one of his while his other reaches out to the coffee table, littered with bottles and shot glasses, and most importantly, the puddles of white. He gulps, looking back at you. Surprisingly, you don’t look put off, or disgusted- more so you look sad, as if filled with intense guilt as Jeongguk hugs you, his heart in one place and head in another.

When one of the girls next to Jeongguk pats his arm and Jeongguk looks over, you spare the chance to look back in the direction of Jimin, overwhelmed with relief when you see him losing balance over the shoulder of your cousin. Jeongguk struggles for a second to let you free but he does, and you move towards Yoongi, already expecting his departure.

“You should leave too,” Yoongi says seriously. “Before he gets worse.”

He- you look over your shoulder at Jeongguk. Now, he’s on his knees, his chin on the coffee table as he inches towards a fresh line on the surface. Someone’s credit card sits decorated in the powder and Jeongguk, whilst pressing his finger to one nose, snorts the line without question and with a smile. You look away, facing Yoongi with a dark expression.

“You knew?”

“We all knew,” Yoongi sighs. “This...is moderate.”

Processing what he’s saying, you shake your head stubbornly. “If I leave, then it will get worse. I don’t want to leave him on his own. I wanna be here for him, before it gets worse than what it already is.”

“It will get worse, always does.”

“I don’t care, I’m not leaving him here,” you reason. “Before you tell me I’m not special and I can’t change him, I’m not here to change him. I’m here to support him. I’m gonna stay, make sure he’s okay.”

Yoongi really wants to intervene, warn you against it. People before you have tried, he wants to say. But he doesn’t; he smiles weakly, thinking about how you’re too good for the world and people around you and he brings you in for a hug, kissing the crown of your head.

“Alright. Happy birthday, by the way. Twenty...Hag,” Yoongi mutters before he pulls away. Jimin mirrors the movement, drunkenly giggling in your ear as he pulls away and thuds against Yoongi’s side. Yoongi doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t complain; secretly he likes the clinginess.

“Thanks, Yoongs,” you laugh, standing still until he steers himself and Jimin away from the scene and you’re left with no other option but to retreat back towards Jeongguk, who must be on his third line. The distinct and slightly jarring sound of snorting makes you hurry quicker towards him, until you can reach out and pet his hair, making him look up before he’s even finished the line.

The boyish grin that Jeongguk gives you when he looks up and sees your face is beyond beautiful, and he’s so distracted from the lines that he doesn’t notice or care when the girl next to him, displeased with his lack of attention, finishes it off for him. Doing everything in your power to not cry about how Jeongguk looks, fucked and wrecked with white powder under his nose, you shoot him a smile and smooth your hands down the side of his face.

“‘m pretty,” he mutters. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Laughter tugs at your throat, little puffs of air through your nose as you bend your head to meet his wandering gaze, wiping the powder from his nose before it kills you to keep looking at it. He sniffs, finding that it tickles, and plops his chin in your lap, hands on your thighs.

“Sleepy?” you ask, petting his curly hair.

“Mm.”

“Mm yes, or…?”

“Mm...comfy,” mutters Jeongguk. Through his hair, he looks up at you. “Can we make-out?”

You snort out a laugh, massaging his scalp. “Oh my God, you are so drunk. Come on, big guy.”

“Wanna stay with you,” Jeongguk says. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” you tell him. “I promise. Look, everyone’s getting ready to leave now, too, I think the party’s pretty much over.”

Jeongguk eyes the room with a half-lidded gaze, furrowing his brows like he doesn’t quite know where he is. “Huh. Everyone left.”

“Mhm.” He starts to reach for the cocaine on the table again and your heart beats with panic. “Hey, I think that’s enough now.”

“Lemme finish,” Jeongguk requests.

“You’ve had enough,” you stress, taking hold of his hand. “Let’s leave it there for tonight, okay, baby?”

Jeongguk’s head snaps towards you. “Baby?”

You nod, affirming. “Yes. Look, oh, I’m so tired-” you pretend to yawn, keeping one eye open to observe his expressions as he smiles childishly.

“You’re faking,” he accuses.

“Nope. I’m so tired, let’s go sleep,” you continue.

Jeongguk continues to smile, occasionally laughing when the sound can get out of his throat. You’re half expecting it to be a waste of time, for him to insist on taking more lines and drinking more booze, but he does neither of these things. Jeongguk nods once and runs his hands across your thighs, taking them in his palms and roughly squeezing, getting to his feet when you tug him up.

Across the box shaped recliner pattern, Cassandra-fucking-Cassie glares up from her seat, alongside several others who stare at you as if you’ve grown another head. Truth be told, and unbeknownst to yourself, Jeongguk has never listened to anybody like he does for you. You have no idea how insane it is to see Jeon Jeongguk following the orders of a girl nobody knows, and honestly, you don’t care. Feeling Jeongguk’s hand slide into yours and the other occasionally reaching to fondle the back of your leg as he searches for you in dark is enough, it’s the only thing you care about.

You don’t really know where you’re going; behind you, Jeongguk is mumbling the way to his bedroom, which appears to be up the grand staircase and on the top floor, where he can pretend he’s above the world. Even with his directions, the path seems unpredictable, his torso occasionally bumping into you when you pause at corners. Eventually, Jeongguk notices where he is and conceals a yawn, his face contorted into sleepiness as he gently pulls you in the direction of his room, unsurprisingly at the end of the corridor, a master. Before he can open the door, Jeongguk yawns loudly, slumping against the doorframe and laughing slowly when you curve around him, reaching for the handle and forcing your way into the room.

Inside, it’s cold, the window propped open and a midnight colour hanging on the walls, silence. Jeongguk doesn’t turn on a light, and he doesn’t want you to either. He still holds onto your hand, or rather your fingers, and leads the way inside. His bedroom is like a hotel suite, a small lobby area of sorts when you walk in with three doors North, East and West, all leading to separate rooms including the main bedroom, bathroom and closet, all his for his own liking. He, of course, heads to the East, in the direction of his bed. It’s equally as cold in there but Jeongguk doesn’t care.

Under his breath, Jeongguk hums something unintelligent, waiting until he’s right by the side of his bed to twirl around. His arms find themselves back around you, lifting you off the ground which elicits a squeal of surprise and falls with a soft pat on top of the bed. Your pelvis is on his abdomen, your face on the bed next to his neck and he holds you tighter, engulfing your smell and warmth. Amongst the drugs and the childlike excitement, Jeongguk is an affectionate drunk around those who matter to him. His exhale of breath akin to a sigh tickles a breeze on your ear, and you struggle to pick your head up and look at his face; he meets you with a titter and puckers his lips, kissing you before you can decline. He grins triumphantly.

“Got it.”

“Mm, you did.”

He laughs again, the kind of laugh that sounds gravelly. He’s so drunk. “Got you.”

Humming, you entertain that thought, reaching your head to peck his jawline. Jeongguk sighs contently, about to move his hands from your waist to your thighs when you shuffle up and away, his brows furrowing with perplexion. “You’ve got me.”

Jeongguk’s head tilts. “Where are you going? Don’t leave.”

“I’m going to use the bathroom, and then I’ll be right back,” you promise him. Jeongguk pouts, emotionally clingy which is unusual, but flops back down onto the bed without vocal protect.

In the time it takes for you to rush to the bathroom, pee out of nervousness and nervously pet your hair and make it look absolutely no different, Jeongguk is knocked out asleep when you re-enter the room. His breaths are quiet, and heavy, his legs hanging off the side with his heels on the floor. The urge to sigh is unreal, but you know he must be tired, more tired than you are. Standing just before him on the bed, you’re uncertain of what to do first, but then you move to pull his feet out of his shoes, quietly tossing them to the side and then hauling his legs up onto the mattress. At some point during the night, he might shuffle- he does, slightly, when his body is on one level, and he sleepily worms his way to the side of the bed closest to the window, the right side, his side.

Half of your heart wants to leave. Maybe the way Jeongguk acted tonight was purely because of things he drank, things he lets into his body. But, subconsciously, you know better; the other half of you begs for you to stay. If Jeongguk changed his mind, it would be one walk out of the door and out of his life, easy and simple.

Instead of thinking about that, you gently toss your jacket to the floor and kick off your own shoes, laying flat next to Jeongguk as he falls deeper into sleep. Even if he wakes up with cold feet tomorrow morning, at least he won’t be alone.

The next morning, it is raining. It doesn’t often rain, and so you can’t help but hear the heavy sound of rain outside the window, no thanks to yourself for forgetting to close it before climbing next to Jeongguk. Speaking of the man, he remains asleep, his head twisted on the pillow facing you with his body flat on his back, one leg up and the other spread out. He looks so peaceful, hopefully at peace with his dreams.

Without waking him up, you roll over off the bed and sink your feet to the floor, silently retreating to the bathroom with your phone in your hand. Surprised by the time, it reads eight fifty am, and you scroll down your notifications which seem to have multiplied unusually. Few are from Instagram but majority are texts, from Yoongi and Jimin, one from your Mom that reads a simple “happy bday” and nothing more.

[03:32AM]: Yoongi 👹: hope ur safe and ok [03:41AM] Yoongi 👹: did u go home?

He sent those at three.

[08:50AM] You: shit sorry [08:50AM] You: was sleeping [08:51AM] You: im still with jeongguk, he passed out and i stayed so he wouldn’t wake up on his own

There is a short silence.

[08:53AM] Yoongi 👹: ok, be safe [08:53AM] Yoongi 👹: jimin says good morning lol

Sitting on top of the closed toilet, you hurriedly reply to the flurry of messages and by the time you’ve finished, ten minutes have passed and it is now nine. Checking over yourself in the mirror and deciding that you could ultimately look a lot worse, you move back into the bedroom, overhearing loudness from the remaining people in the house who had an early start to the day.

Jeongguk stirs slightly, showing signs of being awake. Under his breath he groans, reluctant to confirm his consciousness by keeping his eyes closed, and you slowly reach to put your phone back on the bedside table and clamber on all fours onto the bed. With the weight dipped, Jeongguk huffs, peering open one eye and watching you crawl up to him, knees near his body and hands brushing the long hair out of his eyes.

“Morning, sleepy-head,” you coo, voice quiet because nine is still early.

Jeongguk groans, saying nothing. He shifts, ironing out the cramps in his limbs and sitting up, reaching a hand out for you, grabbing air like a child. Your gaze drops to the way his fingers roll expectantly and you slip your hand into his, taken aback when he tugs you over onto him, your legs over his hips as his arms steady around your waist.

Suddenly he’s very awake, moving your hair back and then kissing you, like he’s been starved of it. It begins gentle, timid, with his hands barely touching you as if he’s expecting you to move away and reject it. You don’t, however; when he pulls back you immediately move back in, twisting your arms around his neck, prompting him to follow by tightening his arms around your body, bringing you flush up against him, hips touching, sex throbbing. Jeongguk groans into your mouth, his hands guiding your body as you make shy movements, barely rolling up against him creating friction he wasn’t aware he needed so badly.

Jeongguk isn’t sure if what he’s doing is okay, and you don’t care. All that seems to matter is having you near him, as close as you can possibly be. Under your shirt, Jeongguk slides his hand up your back until it’s at the back of your neck, his left tight on your hip bone as the guider. He welcomes, no, encourages, your hips rocking against his slowly, teasingly, perfect momentum for the morning with the rain. It is both unnerving and exciting in how Jeongguk remains silent, save his occasional groans into your mouth. 

Once Jeongguk has grown bored of kissing your mouth, satisfied with all he’s done, his mouth departs and moves to your jaw, peppering a line of wet kisses from the underside to your neck. His hands spring away and move to hastily unbutton your shirt, unpopping one at a time as you whimper, feeling the hardness buried in Jeongguk’s jeans begging to be free.

Jeongguk breathes heavily, desperately pulling the buttons undone and undressing your shirt from your body. At first, he barely notices the fact that your bra is missing until the shirt is down to your elbows, sexily like a shawl, and his eyes land on your hardened nipples. Jeongguk half laughs, touching his thumbs on the underside of your breasts.

“Just like that,” he mutters, and you pout through a whimper that brings his eyes up to your own.

“Shut up, there was no way I was sleeping with it on,” you reply, and he hums, it makes sense. Jeongguk doesn’t blame you- why would he? He’s a guy, he likes tits; he likes your tits, smallish and round, big enough for him to hold and fit in his mouth, which he does.

Raising his eyebrows, Jeongguk smirks and brings his mouth to your right tit, his mouth around your nipple and you moan sweetly, your hand raking through his messy bed-curls. Like taking a toothless bite out of a whip of ice cream, Jeongguk’s lips pull around it, his eyes flickering up to observe your expressions- one glance and he immediately feels overwhelmed, a pressure on his crotch, discomfort, the need to be free. His hips stutter and he ruts up against you, two clothed crotches rubbing together, stolen gasps in the morning ambience. Finished with his hands on your tits, Jeongguk fully removes your shirt, balling it up and throwing it across the room, where it lands pathetically on one of the knobs of his drawers.

In one movement, Jeongguk secures his arms around you and hikes himself up onto his feet, squatting and turning so you should fall on your back. Following, he pushes you down into the mattress, your head half on the pillow and this time, his legs on your hips, not an overpowering weight but enough to keep you pinned down. You writhe, your back arching up off the mattress as Jeongguk’s mouth trails down from your face, where he leaves a starting kiss on your lips, down your neck and between your breasts, encouraging the roll of your hips with his hands. Muttered incoherence is all he can hear as he shimmies down, his tongue on your skin, teasingly licking a stripe up across your crotch covered by uncomfortable jeans.

Jimin, that fucker, he’d been right. Skinny jeans truly were the least practical outfit.

Jeongguk straddles himself up, planting his body over you like one would during sex. Humming against your lips, Jeongguk’s teeth pull at your bottom lip, his left hand gripping your leg and positioning it around his waist, your legs parted and his crotch directly hitting yours with every grind. Jeongguk gives nothing away- he stares, unwaveringly and deadpan directly into your eyes, grunting at the faces you pull, the whimpers leaving your lips, your rutting underneath him.

He buckles unexpectedly, pounding you deep into the mattress with a high pitched moan, captured by his mouth as he squeezes your flesh around his hand, holding you to him like letting you go would result in him losing you entirely. Jeongguk’s torn between wanting to cry and scream; in his short, sad, twenty one years of living, he’s not sure he’s ever felt as desperate for another person before. Never craved somebody the way he craves you, never needed somebody the way he needs you. Jeongguk stares into your eyes, opia. For fucks sake- he likes you so much, needs you so much-

“Jeongguk, you up?”

Freeze frame. Namjoon steps into the room, his eyes widening with surprise when he comes through the East and spots your shoes and bra by the door, shirt hanging off the cupboard, and Jeongguk on top of you with his lips on your neck, hands on your waist, leg around his middle and crotch up against his. Over Jeongguk’s bicep, you stare at him, your eyes blown open, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to stop, or even care. Even when you grip on his bicep to let him know you’re not alone, Jeongguk looks up from your neck and spots Namjoon. A soft exhale leaves his lips and he grunts, unbothered.

“Yeah,” he replies bluntly, biting down on your neck and revelling in the tug he receives in his hair when he does so. Still, Namjoon stands by the door in awe, unsure of what to do or say. Jeongguk pulls away, his face still stuffed in your neck, “you need something, Namjoon?”

“I,” Namjoon says, gathering his thoughts. He clears his throat. “Sejin called...He said he’s going to be round at about eleven ish, so I was, um, coming to see if you wanted breakfast, or…” As he speaks, Jeongguk is selfish, still grinding against you like Namjoon’s not even there. He’s listening though, his ear free to hear as he sucks his mouth on your skin, practising sex against your jeans.

Naturally, Namjoon’s gaze wanders to your breasts when Jeongguk picks himself up slightly, grabbing one with his palm and kissing patterns across your sternum. He gulps, uncomfortable.

“Be down in a minute,” Jeongguk says, shrugs, not really a promise. Namjoon nods, flushing as you moan unexpectedly, your traitor pussy having a mind of its own, controlling the way you think. Namjoon about makes out an arch on the grey comforter and catches your gaze, half-lidded, and he turns away, he’s seen enough.

“Take your time,” Namjoon squeaks out, unsure of whether the flush is for his head or his dick but he’s not sticking around to find out, and hurries out the door and back into the house. Jeongguk’s facade doesn’t fall until he knows for certain that Namjoon has left, which means he waits until the sound of laughter resonates downstairs, meaning Namjoon’s said his piece to the rest of the band likely gathered somewhere, waiting for him.

Planting one final kiss to your breast, Jeongguk groans and picks himself up onto his hands, his torso still over the lower half of your body and his gaze on your chest. It doesn’t move for a moment, staring in silence until he suddenly starts laughing to himself. The tangled mess of hair bounces with his shoulders and his head drops for a few moments, and then he peers up at you with a smile and you can’t contain your own bubbling laughter, scandalised.

“I know I’m a day late,” he breathes, “but.” Jeongguk smiles softly, “Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

“Mmm. Thank you,” you preen. “Best birthday ever.”

This causes Jeongguk to guffaw, laughing under his breath. “Joon enjoyed it too.”

“You’re such a prick, you could have stopped,” you laugh to him, slamming his shoulders gently. Jeongguk grins, shuffling until his ass is on your stomach, straddling with his hands intertwined with yours.

“Yeah,” he agrees, because he could have. “Didn’t feel like it though. Plus, he said you were pretty once. ‘Mnot taking any chances with you.”

You gasp, astounded. “And what if I had thought he was pretty, too?”

“Then I’d cry,” Jeongguk replies simply, considering it a successful quip when you laugh sweetly, your cheek on your shoulder looking up at him like he was God’s angel. He blinks, like he’s processing the information, “thank you for staying. Look, if last night I was fucked up, it’s okay if you’re not cool with that. It can be a lot and I-”

“Jeongguk, I’ll always stay. If you need me, I’ll stay,” you tell him seriously. “I’m here for you, even when it’s difficult. I-” you pause, “I care about you.” It won’t be the last time Jeongguk feels like he has nothing to say to you, and honestly, it’s not the first time either.

Jeongguk looks down at you, his face devoid of a smile now that your words have settled in. When he realises what you’re saying, what that means for him.

“I’m sorry. I’m...a fucking shit show,” Jeongguk says quietly, and he barely moves when you instantly sit up, rising with your palms cupping his face, holding him gently and closely.

“Please don’t say sorry. I’m here, if you need me,” you say to him. “If you want me.”

“I do,” replies Jeongguk. He licks his lips, “of course I do.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest, and it would be easy to kick back, let him keep kissing, stay in the warmth of his bed covers. So suddenly, life feels like it can get better. So suddenly, it feels like everything is going to be okay.

(LOS ANGELES)

Things begin to change quite suddenly.

In the moment, you hardly realise how fast paced life is moving for you, too caught up in the moment, in the thrill of what has become of your life after the show at the Hollywood Palladium. For some reason, you didn’t expect to be an addition to Jeongguk’s life after the party, especially considering August Blue still had several other shows and cities to perform in, meaning the likelihood of seeing him decreased.

He had surprised you, though, by making a considerable effort to frequent DBOY whenever he could before he left for Jersey, alongside the rather spontaneous decision to take you for dinner after your shift, ending with a bang and a kiss and your mother peeking from behind a curtain inside the house when Jeongguk pulled up to drop you home instead of your own flat afterwards. 

As far as you knew, nothing with Jeongguk had especially changed; judging off the lingering smell of nicotine and alcohol when he turned up to get you, and pictures of dark lights and white tables on his private accounts, which only made it harder to say goodbye to him.

There had been a change in pace between Jeongguk and yourself, an establishment of feelings discussed over that afternoon dinner looking out at the ocean. It had been unexpected and impulsive, you still dressed in your lackluster University outfit and Jeongguk in attire that he put on when he woke up in the morning, but everything seemed to feel right.

It hadn’t been much, nothing but him setting the record straight that he wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he wanted to do it- if you would have it, he’d like to be in your life. There was the bump in the road that was his status, his tours and his unspoken struggle with white lines and drunken nights that could be troublesome. Could turn you off, could make you not want him. You laughed at that like it was the funniest and simultaneously the stupidest thing he’d ever said, and maybe it was.

Across the room, Jimin kicks his feet up onto the coffee table despite countless efforts to get him to stop. Now that the late birthday weekend spent with your family had come to a happy end, you were once again welcomed in your shared flat with Jimin; it’s a measly apartment close to campus with an expensive empty third room that you both use as art storage. Next to him on the couch is the greasy pizza box, his fingers pulling a slice off the cardboard. You stand behind the couch, looking at the back of his head, and then look back at your phone. As always, there’s nothing, no notifications besides an Icloud storage backup failure. You sigh, having expected it.

Jimin looks up when the couch dips in weight as you sit next to him, moving the pizza box to his lap rather than your spot. He has the nerve to appear offended, still shoving a slice in his mouth.

“I’ve picked the movie,” he starts.

“Swear on God, if you’ve picked Orphan again, I’m going to beat your ass.”

“It’s the best horror movie to date, come on!” Jimin argues, making zero effort to change the movie once it’s already started. People who didn’t know Jimin would take a look at him and anticipate him to be an angel, questioning why you would ever be annoyed by such a cute face. This- this is why. 

Regardless, all you give Jimin is an eye-roll and decide to quietly accept the fact that your movie night has, once again, become an ode to Orphan. It’s not a problem- if a movie could define and represent a friendship, Orphan could summarize your relationship with Jimin.

The movie plays as far as Esther pushing her sister into the road when disturbance arises. Jimin is the first to stir, hearing the front door to your apartment crack open and a sheepish Yoongi steps inside, a bag of takeout in his left hand and keys in the right. He is, of course, late as always, and you expect he won’t hear the end of it by the time he’s wedged himself into the room; rightly so, Jimin interrogates him on being late as the front door closes, and right as the sound of arguing fills the room a blaring ring from your phone picks up.

It’s sad to admit that you pick up your phone in lightning speed, peering in the light as Jeongguk’s contact fills the screen. The way seeing his name light up on the screen feels like an urgent release, like finding treasure after searching for so long- you haul yourself up off the couch and head back towards the kitchen as the couple shuffle in. Glancing at them as they collapse in laughter to the couch, you smile and answer the call from Jeongguk that never stops ringing.

“Jeongguk,” you say, once you’ve picked up and heard nothing but murmured party ambience over the line. Something crackles, like the movement of clothes, and Jeongguk hums like he’s in a trance. “Can you hear me?”

“Hi baby,” his voice calls. He laughs, lucid, “Y/N, baby. Hi baby.”

“Hi,” you coo in reply. “Where are you, I can barely hear you…?”

“Party!” laughs Jeongguk. “Wrap up party. ‘so funny, you should come.”

A smile ignites. “I can’t, I’m not in that state. Are you having fun? What are you doing?”

For a moment, Jeongguk doesn’t reply. From the sounds of it, he seems otherwise occupied, for in the background the quiet sound of party laughter and glass clinking reminds you of where he is, what he’s doing, what he’ll end up doing. You swallow thickly.

“It’s okay,” Jeongguk says after some time. “Kinda fun.” He waits one second and then says, “can’t hear you. I’m gonna go outside, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jeongguk moves outside, the party tucked behind as he leans against the brickwork of the rented bar used for the party. There’s a payphone on the wall, dripped in neon lights and he stands next to it, his body chilled by the night, leather on his skin.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, sniffing. That’s the indicator. Something inside of you sinks thinking about what he’s done, how sad it is that he does it to himself and nobody bats an eye.

You throw a glance back across the room; Jimin is settled in Yoongi’s lap, bringing soft laughter out of your cousin as the still frame of Orphan burns the television screen. “It’s movie night, so Jimin and Yoongi came over.”

“Mm yeah?” Jeongguk says. “Fun, sounds so fun, Yoongi said you lived with Jimin.”

“I do,” you reply gently. “When do you come home?”

“Saturday, maybe,” Jeongguk estimates. “Then I’m gonna come see you. Wanna take you out again, can we go out somewhere, I wanna go out.”

You laugh, tucking yourself into the kitchen when Yoongi and Jimin start laughing too loudly. “Course. Just let me know when, I’ll make room for you.”

For a while, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything interesting. In fact, it’s mostly a string of incoherent and confusing sentences, his pout audible as he speaks and at least he’s not making bad decisions, half the reason you haven’t told him to go back to the party. Maybe you’re in it too deep, maybe you have no right being worried about him like that. If his band members didn’t seem to be too worried, and they’ve clearly known him longer, then why should you be so concerned?

“Called you for a reason, you know,” Jeongguk says, after a short breath of silence.

You raise your eyebrows and lean against the doorframe, pulling at your bottom lip with your teeth after asking him why.

Jeongguk sniffs and then drops a deep exhale of breath. “Missed you.” Your heart thuds painfully. “Miss you, miss your voice. You should have come.”

“Maybe next time,” you offer. You’re unsure if telling him that you didn’t come because you don’t know what you are to him is wise at this exact moment, and so you decline to offer him a reason. Not that he asks. “I miss you too. I miss you coming to see me at work, made my day.”

Jeongguk laughs to himself. “I miss it. Coming home on Saturday, can I see you then?”

You pause to think. “Ah...it’s Yoojung’s birthday.” Yoojung is Yoongi’s sister, which Jeongguk remarkably remembers. He frowns, questioning. “There’s a party at her house, I’m obviously going because I’m family.”

“Yoo is a fan of the band, I think,” Jeongguk says. “Maybe I’ll ask Yoonie if I can come, surprise her or something. Wanna see you.”

“You can’t wait an extra day? I think I’m free all day on Sunday,” you offer, but Jeongguk declines.

“Nah. Greedy.”

He sniffs once, curtly and quickly, like inhaling sandpaper. You repress a sigh, not wanting to give away anything that might upset him, and you tuck further into the kitchen to escape the noise of the couple on the couch. It rises in volume, Jimin’s tone calling for you which Jeongguk can surely hear, but clearly cares little for.

“Fair enough,” you reply, smiling. “Are you going to go back in and party?”

For a second, Jeongguk says nothing. Unbeknownst to you, Jeongguk leans against the damp bricks with his chin tucked to his collarbones, gaze hazy and a smile on his lips. The air is cool enough to straighten his head, at least clear his vision from speckles to something clean.

“Just like talking to you,” he mumbles. “I don’t know, I don’t know if I wanna party anymore.”

“Then don’t, baby, it’s okay,” you tell him, trying to avoid eavesdroppers in the living room. “Find Seokjin and leave for the night, hm? Have some rest and then we can see each other when you get back for Saturday, m’kay?”

Jeongguk says nothing, listening in the background to Yoongi and Jimin as they heckle you into living room to finish the movie. He wants to say something, more than anything he has words on his mind, sentences on the tip of his tongue; he doesn’t. His head isn’t clear enough for him to trust himself to speak. So, instead, he takes an inhale of the outside air and glances around at his surroundings, observing the moonlight on the lake nearby and the dark green ferns around the car park.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna go to bed,” he decides to say.

“That’s good. Just let me know when you’re home safe, okay?” you tell him, silencing the duo with a finger to your lips and the couple on the couch suppress giggles of amusement. To them it’s funny. “Okay?”

“Yep. I’ll text,” Jeongguk promises. From behind him, the door to the club opens and you can faintly hear a voice calling him. It’s out of your hands but you hope that it’s Seokjin, or another member of the band. “Miss you.”

You smile, “I miss you too. Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you on Saturday.”

Jeongguk hums. His voice is gone in the wind, too small to speak out.

(HIDDEN HILLS)

“And, you know, don’t get me wrong- I love parties as much as the next person, believe me, but if you can’t have an Iron Man balloon just because your parents are too damn lazy to go across town to Party City to get me one, then is it really a good party?”

Min Yoojung takes a sip from her glass and practically shrivels with distaste. For some or known reason, she had assumed that when you turned eighteen, life would dramatically change and you’d suddenly enjoy the taste of alcohol. Or, at least, that’s what UK TV shows had told her- mind you, she now knows that’s entirely inaccurate.

“I mean, think about it,” she continues with a huff. “Yoongi gets his own private club hired out for his birthday with the members of KISS playing on stage, and I can’t even get a balloon?”

Yoongi sits directly across from her on the patio sofas, a cigarette between his two fingers and a glass of red wine on the small table. He hides a smirk, feigning absolute disinterest as his sister speaks, waiting until she’s finished and looking between yourself and Jimin for some sort of explanation before he speaks.

“It’s because you’re adopted,” he replies smoothly, which only sets her off more.  

To some extent, what she is saying is not flawed. For Yoongi’s eighteenth birthday, he had gotten everything he wanted, things he brought up in passing wrapped up and gifted to him on the morn of March 9th. And, Yoojung is walking proof that the myth of the baby sibling being the favourite is simply not true. Granted, Yoongi’s only the favourite because he’s semi-famous, whereas Yoojung still attends public school and dines in three star restaurants with allowance money she may as well not have. That’s not to say that her birthday sucks; it doesn’t, because the Min’s have money and standards and this party in the backyard might make a headline in some Indie magazine online. Who knows.

It’s leisurely and small, with only few celebrities in attendance not including the Min’s and their relatives. You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the life of stardom- unfortunately, being the step-daughter of Axel Choi therefore meant having a camera in your face once or twice. Even though Axel was no relative of yours, and by no means did he ever have the audacity to assume he could fill the role of your Dad: Axel was an okay guy, protective of his family and by extension, protective of you. You didn’t mind, just one less camera to hide from, one less ugly photograph uploaded online for a bit of money. 

That being said, Axel pulled a few strings and got a few A-Listers to show up, including a KPOP group that Yoojung had liked when she felt like an alien in her own country. Amongst those are some of Yoojung’s friends, who fear sitting near Yoongi because he’s the hot older brother type, and fearful of you who they don’t know, which isn’t any less scary from them knowing you.

“You haven’t done the cake yet, right?”

From behind Yoongi, out comes Wheein, one of his old friends from University. She carefully climbs over the seat to sit next to Jimin, mindful of her glass that sloshes and Yoojung sighs, pressing her chin into the heel of her hand.

“Nope. Yoongi says people haven’t turned up yet, so I don’t know what’s up with that,” Yoojung shrugs. “Honestly-” now she rises slightly, her back straight and finger pointed accusingly, “you fucking planned my whole party. Is this the Yoongi and Co show, or what?”

“Yes,” Yoongi replies, as though it were obvious. He drinks. “Stop complaining and wait, it’ll be worth it.”

Yoojung scoffs, “Yeah right. If Tony Stark doesn’t come to this house dressed in his suit making that suity noise, then consider this birthday over.”

Yoongi pauses. “Okay then, I guess I’ll start sending people back home, because you can’t even get an Iron Man balloon, what makes you think he’s gonna pop round in person?”

Yoojung shrugs, “Poetic cinema?”

“Keep dreaming, cabbage patch baby.”

“Cabbage patch baby?” Jimin laughs. That’s when Yoongi ignores Yoojung’s frustrated groans and launches into an explanation behind the name, which involves Yoongi telling Yoojung when she was little that their Mom found her in a cabbage patch. You’ve heard it before, so you’re not listening when it’s explained. Your gaze instead lifts across the patio, awkwardly catching your mother’s as she looks around for you. 

Her eyes light up when she spots you and immediately she waves you over, not taking no for an answer as those round holes turn into slits faster than you can even mouth the syllable “n”. While Yoongi dives deeper into Yoojung’s misery, you pick yourself up with a sigh and head on over towards your mother.

She stands next to Axel, as well as Yoongi’s parents, and two celebrities you vaguely remember for being present at Yoongi’s birthday many moons ago. You fake a smile, wanting to be polite, wanting it to be over. It seems your arrival had been pre-planned and expected, for your aunt turns to you with wide eyes and brings you by the elbow.

“Y/N. We were just talking about you- you know Maxine, don’t you?”

No. You regard the stranger, subtly looking them up and down and smiling tightly. “Of course! It’s so nice to see you.”

“We were just talking about the arts- classical, of course, because we all know how you turn up your nose at the modern artists of today,” your Aunt says.

“Well, I do like modern art, I just find classicals more interesting to study. More composition, colour, texture...more empathy.”

“Whatever,” your Aunt interrupts. “Maxine has a son who works in the Louvre. He’s looking for junior guides, people to talk arty to visitors and make everything sound nice.”

Maxine smiles to intervene. “Actually, he’s not high enough in the business to request people, but I do know that he’s got an eye for women who like the arts. Miyoung told me that you study it at University level.”

You nod, bored. “Yes, I do. I’m not sure I want to move to Paris for a job, though...so…”

“Oh, no,” Maxine laughs. As she does this, one of Yoongi’s other friends, Jaehyung, creeps up behind you and quietly says hello to your mother and to Axel, half listening when Maxine says, “Duke is actually on pursuit for somebody who can match his artistic background.”

This, of course, makes Jaehyung laugh suddenly. He takes a slice of cake off a nearby tray and takes a bite, moving to walk away as he says, “Y/N doesn’t need help in the dating department, I don’t think.”

You glare at him.

“What does that mean?” your mother asks. “Do you have somebody?”

“No, Mom. Nobody.”

“Sure she does,” Jaehyung winks. “Was all over Instagram.”

“That’s a lie,” you gape.

“Is it?” he shrugs. Is it?

Aunt Miyoung gasps like she’s heard an offensive secret, touching her collarbone as she looks between Jaehyung and yourself. Jaehyung grins, saying nothing and running back to Yoongi before you can slander him. You’re in for it now.

“The boy that dropped you home?” your mother presses.

“You knew about this?” Miyoung asks. “Maxine, I am deeply sorry- I feel foolish.”

“I-Yes,” you tell her finally. Jeongguk, the man in question, might not be what everybody now thinks he is, might not even be what you think he is. “It hasn’t been long, so I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“And he’s famous?” Axel asks.

You look at him. “Yeah. I guess. You wouldn’t believe he was, but he is.”

Axel raises his eyebrows, by now not in the least surprised by the bitterness in your tone that has been there since your mother first introduced him. He’d probably be more surprised if you didn’t talk to him like that. Regardless, Axel takes it with acquiesce, glancing at your mother for some sort of guidance that she can’t and won’t give to him. It is in this moment that the back gate that leads to a leaky trail next to the spacious garage and past Holly’s doghouse opens, like arms inviting a hug.

The gate needs oiling, screeching to gain attention as it opens and in steps pairs of booted feet. The selection of pauses, gasps and an excited murmur from Yoojung’s friendship group out over by the poolside paints the picture for you, and you don’t feel the need to turn around. Noise alone confirms that the person who opened the gate is the same man in topic of conversation, his eyes dancing around the yard until they land on Yoongi’s father, acknowledgingly and then finally onto Yoojung, who he happens to notice quickly than he does the back of your head.

“Speak of the devil,” your mother starts, recognising him.

Axel hesitates visibly and audibly. “That man. That’s him?”

You purse your lips, taking a peek over your shoulder at Jeongguk. He speaks for himself; his muscles cling underneath a white tee and leather jacket that feels overdressed, paired with faded black jeans decorated with gashes and two zips. Axel only frowns because he’s not dressed like a prep, or a future Doctor like he would have liked for you, hypocrisy. Not even dressed ‘normal’ like boys he sees on the covers of magazines belonging to your step-sister, his own blood, his actual daughter. Jeongguk is dressed for attention, his gaze high over his glasses that you’re unaware he owned.

“It might be,” you reply quietly, and it’s telling enough that Axel sighs, folding his arms.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Miyoung says quickly. “You should have just told us it was Jeongguk.”

“You know him?” asks Axel.

Miyoung nods, sipping her wine. “Sure. He’s been friends with Yoongi for a few years now- we actually cleared him to visit for Yoo’s birthday.” Finally she acknowledges you: “Handsome boy, Y/N. How did you find him? Yoongi?”

“More like he found me,” you muse. “I tried to remain professional, but he kept coming back to visit me at work.”

“Romantic,” your mother sighs honestly.

Yoongi’s father laughs. “Jeongguk has a type.”

You stare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “The last time he had a girl on his arm he bed her and got rid of her. Funny, actually, you two had the same hair.”

“Hair isn’t a type,” Miyoung snaps.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, shrugging again. “Don’t get your hopes up, honey.”

“So, he’s a player?” Axel grunts.

“No,” you defend quickly. “No. Well- yes, he was. People change when they’ve found the right person to change for.”

Axel chuckles wryly. “And you think you’re the one to change him?”

“Not change him, but I’ll be there for him whenever he needs me,” you nod. “I trust him.”

“I can feel my ears burning.”

Jeongguk’s voice creeps over your shoulder before you can even notice that he has made his way over towards you; the feeling of his chin rested just above your ear makes your body pause and he wraps one arm around you, observing everybody in the huddle. The Min’s consider Jeongguk secondary family, welcoming him with a smile that Axel doesn’t reciprocate, not that Jeongguk gives a shit. For Jeongguk, this is monumentous, the time for him to prove himself to the guy who didn’t believe in him.

Actually, he’s surprised to find that the feeling of worship he felt for Axel as a teenager is still there, now that he’s standing right in front of him. It’s strange, subdued and numbing, but still there and pressing. Jeongguk tries to look anywhere but at Axel, but he can’t help it. Axel doesn’t even remember him, and has the audacity to stare at Jeongguk like it’s his first time, first impression of the guy dating one of his daughters.

Jeongguk pauses his thoughts and thinks back to you- are you dating? Wouldn’t hurt to lie, just to piss of Axel even more. Jeongguk wasn’t an exceptionally smart guy but he wasn’t stupid; it was evident that Axel didn’t like him, obvious from the ugly grimace on his face. He doesn’t care- Jeongguk relishes in his dislike. That gives him power, now.

“Jeongguk,” says Miyoung, smiling wide.

Beside her, your Uncle sips his drink, silent and occasionally glancing between Jeongguk and Axel. Maybe everybody disliked Axel, Jeongguk thinks to himself, as he stares at the pulled crease between your Uncle’s eyebrows. He knows vaguely that you’re related to the Min’s through your mother, and that they, unlike your mother, never got over the death of your Dad. Maybe they too can’t stand the sight of Axel, bragging and sour-faced, acting like a member of the family when in reality, all he is is an imposter, a wolf in sheeps’ clothing, awkward and looking misplaced.

Jeongguk smiles back at Miyoung. “Hi, it’s good to see you. Thanks for having me.”

“Our pleasure,” Miyoung replies. “You’re a punk, y’know- dating our Y/N. None of us had any clue! Why hide such a beauty?”

Jeongguk grins. His arm wrapped around you tightens gently. “Sorry. We didn’t want to rush into making anything public…” He trails off, looking at you. “Get nervous and tell people?”

“Actually, you have Jaehyung to thank for that,” your mother pipes up with a sigh. For the first time, Jeongguk looks at her entirely. She looks nothing like you, too done up with surgery and makeup for him to see a resemblance. Maybe you looked like her before, maybe you favoured your Dad. “I’m Jennifer, Jenny, by the way. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Jeongguk smiles constantly, accepting her tight hug as she welcomes him. “Jeongguk.”

“Y/N doesn’t talk about you,” she says.

“In fairness, I don’t talk about anything,” you add, but she’s not listening. Jeongguk is, though, and his heart tugs. He’s got the situation kind of figured out.

“I don’t blame her,” Jeongguk replies smoothly. “We weren’t sure it was time to make things official- it’s new.”

“And it’s serious?” Axel asks, speaking for the first time.

Jeongguk watches him. “Yes, sir.”

Axel bristles. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Axel, I’m Y/N’s father.”

“Step father,” you cut in.

“Father,” he repeats. Axel extends a hand outwards for Jeongguk to shake. Even though he hesitates, Jeongguk accepts, firmly shaking it. It’s a good handshake, Axel ought to be impressed. What doesn’t sit right is Axel calling himself your father- something he’s never been given the right to say.

“We actually have met before,” Jeongguk says, and around his arm he feels you tighten, briefly glancing up at him.

All eyes in the huddle are on Axel, including the long forgotten Maxine who watches quietly. “Did we? I don’t remember you.”

“Well, it was a long time ago,” Jeongguk explains with a flat tone. “We were in Busan. You came into my work and bought some cigarettes, I had your opinion on some of my work.”

While Axel thinks about it, your mother gasps happily, clueless and embracing her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Honey, it’s great that you helped this young man.”

Unknowingly, the Min’s writhe on their spots. They know this story. They know the truth- maybe that’s why they dislike Axel the way everybody else does.

“Did I?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk continues, with the same flat tone that makes you shudder. “Yeah. You told me our music was shit and that I’d never make it in the business because I was a Korean boy from Busan with dreams I couldn’t reach. You told me we’d never succeed and that we’d be stuck in Busan flipping burgers and working night shifts at 7-11, and that the only way I’d succeed was if I was American. Dunno if you remember that, but I did.”

Nobody says anything. Not even Axel, who stares coldly.

“Well, we made it,” Jeongguk laughs quietly. “I took your advice and it really helped motivate me to prove you wrong. We’re number one on Billboard and we’re making history as the first all Korean band to top the charts and headline The Governors Ball next year. Not bad for a basement boy from Busan, right?”

Your mother gulps. “That’s really wonderful, Jeongguk, you should be really proud.”

Jeongguk pities her. “Thank-you. We worked hard for it. Now we’re here.”

“And I suppose it will do Y/N some good, being with somebody so successful.” For the first time since Jeongguk’s arrival, Maxine speaks up. She cradles her champagne glass tenderly and examines Jeongguk with her slinted fox-like eyes, as if nursing a different agenda.

“Thank you,” repeats Jeongguk. He tightens his arm around you, obviously enough to create a statement. While it’s mostly to prove to everybody- and himself- that you and him are an item, it’s also to rub extra salt into Axel’s wounds, his face like he’s sucking on a lemon. “Y/N helps keep me driven a lot. I owe her so much already, I’ll make her happy and do her proud. Thanks to Y/N, I don’t think I could be here. I’m here because she suggested it, actually, for Yoojungie.”

“And a good job, too,” Miyoung finally says, trying to avert the tensions. “Else Yoojung would be miserable at her own birthday party.” And everyone laughs, apart from Axel, not that anybody cares. “Jeongguk, shall we start the music up?”

Jeongguk nods. “I’d love to. Thanks, Mom.”

She smiles, walking away to prep. Feeling Axel’s stare cold on your skin, you gently push yourself into Jeongguk, until he’s walking backwards towards the selection of trees where you turn in his arms, looking up at him. Jeongguk smiles honestly for the first time, his heart thumping.

“Hi,” he says gently.

“Well, you know how to make an entrance,” you note thoughtfully. Jeongguk’s eyes rake your own, wordless. “Be careful how you act around Axel. He’s strangely protective.”

“I thought he wasn’t family.”

You frown. “He’s not. But he’s still… you know. Part of the family.”

Jeongguk says nothing at first. “I get it. I do,” he assures with a nod. The next moment, he has his hands on your upper-arms, smoothing. “It’s good to see you, by the way. You look beautiful.”

A smile crosses your face. “It’s good to see you, too. Missed you.”

“I missed you too, we just got off the plane this morning,” Jeongguk explains. Took a nap on the way home and then got dressed and we came straight here.” He pauses playfully: “Do I look okay?”

You laugh girlishly, catching his elbows with your fingers. “You look great. Who knew you wore glasses?”

Jeongguk grins. “They’re fake, I’m a fraud.”

“Of course,” you joke. “Like all rockstars.”

“Hey, don’t bring in my fellow rockers!” Jeongguk laughs too, an unusual sound. “As much as I wanna stand around and stare at you, I need to go and say hi to Yoojung and perform and stuff. It’s kinda why I’m here…”

“LOL,” you say. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Guk. Go, I’ll survive.”

“Okay,” he resists. “But I’ll come back later, yeah? Can’t ignore my girlfriend.” Jeongguk raises his eyebrows mischievously and then, rustles in his pocket whilst speaking, “Oh, wait. Happy-” he checks the time and shows his phone screen to you as he steps backwards, “-ten minute anniversary, babe.”

As Jeongguk steps away, dragging his fingertips along your palms as he steps backwards towards the curved pathway around the pool, a warm feeling simmers in your stomach. Maybe it’s the sunlight shining gold across his skin or the way his smile finally reaches his nostrils, extending wide, his eyes folded into moons- but something about the whole ordeal seems safe, seems gorgeous and heavenly, at the same time domestic. He winks, turns and heads towards the rest of August Blue sheltered around Yoojung and Yoongi, and you’re left with the imprinted image of Jeongguk’s smile on the spot of grass he just stood on, burning, refusing to leave.

[23:39PM] Jeongguk❣️: so i don’t think ur family like me…. [23:39PM] Jeongguk❣️: am i out of the picture now?

The sound of your phone fills the room and pulls you out of the bathroom, which connects to your family bedroom back in the house your family live at currently. Yoojung’s party had ended hours earlier, the grand finale with Jeongguk helping bring out her cake, fireworks on the evening, a hand on your waist.

Rubbing at your wet hair, you sit on the bed and reach for your phone, glossing over the messages, smiling.

[23:40PM] You: hey now [23:40PM] You: i don’t think my family like me either [23:41PM] Jeongguk❣️: wanna run away and be my family? [23:42PM] Y/N: where are we running to? [23:42PM] Jeongguk❣️: idk yet [23:42PM] Jeongguk❣️: somewhere nice [23:43PM] Jeongguk❣️: far away [23:43] You: omg yes [23:44PM] You: kinda wanting to go to hawaii...what are your thoughts on hawaii, gukkie? [23:45PM] Jeongguk❣️: hawaii on a first date? imagine that….. [23:45PM] Jeongguk❣️: u DO dream big [23:45PM] You: i tried [23:46PM] Jeongguk❣️: it’s not exactly hawaii [23:47PM] Jeongguk❣️: but how about a late night rendezvous at olive garden

(At the same time…)

[23:47PM] Jeongguk❣️: omg … as if i just spelt that word right [23:47PM] You: autocorrect, u cant fool me [23:47PM] You: and omg sure…..,,,,,, [23:48PM] You: something tells me ur already here and thats why you’re asking

(A honk outside your window.)

[23:49PM] Jeongguk❣️: 🤪 [23:49PM] You: my hairs wet 🥺 [23:50PM] Jeongguk❣️: i’ll roll down the windows?

(A sigh.)

[23:50PM] You: pls give me five minutes

Jeongguk had been parked up outside, his car hidden half in the shadows by a flickering streetlight, inconspicuous and with the inside lights on. It had taken all but three minutes to find his car, and another three for you to warm up to talking to him inside the car. Slipping into the passenger seat with the sound of Magnetic Moon on the AUX and the shining smile from Jeongguk had been nerve-wracking, perhaps nerve-wracking is even an understatement. Nonetheless, the song had rolled to an end and just before Tiffany could transition into the smooth vocals of Lana, Jeongguk said his first few words beyond “hi”.

Olive Garden was a few miles away from your neighbourhood- small and pushed to the side with a selection of palm trees scattered outside, like a postcard for Malibu. Like most, if not all American’s, you’ve been here before, already have a go-to on the menu. Jeongguk drives into a parking bay near the shrubs and opens the doors for you, pulls out chairs, goes the extra mile ordering wine in advance in a private section of the restaurant that you didn’t know existed. You’ve only ever been here with Yoongi and Yoojung, two celebrities who sometimes have the luxury of leaving the house and not getting immediately noticed.

“What do you wanna do after?”

Jeongguk, halfway through cutting his sirloin steak, glances up with an honestly surprised expression. “You still want to hang out after?”

You shrug, taking a sip of the wine. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because our first date since I got back from tour is at fucking Olive Garden,” Jeongguk states.

“I like Olive Garden…” you mumble, which he hears.

After swallowing a large mouthful, he sends it down with a gulp of wine. “Well, I’m not gonna complain. Shall we go for a drive? You ever been to the beach at night?”

“I live in LA, who hasn’t been to the beach at night?”

“Okay, true,” he replies. “I used to do it all the time in Busan, too. Lived right across the road, could see the sands from my front porch.”

Once dinner is over, and once Jeongguk has quite finished coercing you into sharing an ice-cream sundae with him, Jeongguk takes you up on the invitation to drive to the beach, the night sky like looking into the eyeball of a stuffed animal, the stars like specks of dust on an Afterlight edit. The boulevard is lit up by circular bulbs, tiny attractions for moths, bright like close up stars. Jeongguk drives smoothly, the window slightly down and occasionally his eyes glanced over at you; your hair is messed in the wind, the sound of Kim Petra on the AUX sending your body into little bops, something Jeongguk wants to remember for the rest of his life.

“So much for letting my hair dry.”

Jeongguk laughs from the back of the car, closing the boot and bringing out some spare towels to hand over to you. They’re yellow, like fresh little buttercups, and slightly wrinkled, smelling like faint juice and sea-salt. Regardless, you take the towel off him and begin to quickly rub it against your hair, once again trying to even out the wetness, less than the shower back home, enough to still drip on your arms and legs.

“You splashed me first,” Jeongguk replies, standing outside the door whereas you sit with your legs hanging out, sideways on the backseat. Behind him is the beach, dark and the sound of the ocean lapping like television static, the faint sound of the amusement arcade down the prom. His body is wet too, the ankles of his jeans clinging to his skin with ocean water.

You turn your head to him, smiling. “Guilty.” When he laughs, you continue to speak and bring the towel back down to your lap, “Okay, it’s what they all do in the movies. What else are you supposed to do on a beach at like...midnight. Wait, what time is it?”

“I dunno, like, three?” he guesses.

“No way.”

“Feels like three. Check the front.”

You lean over to check. “It’s definitely not three.”

Jeongguk shrugs boyishly, that same grin creating dimples near his chin. “Not far off. It was a guess.”

“Good for a guess,” you assure. Jeongguk wrangles the towel from your hands politely, wringing it out and throwing it back into the boot. Your hair can dry again in the wind when Jeongguk drives away, the same way it did when he picked you up. He has this theory on his mind as he walks back around to the open door, although the words leave him when he returns, having found that he has nothing at all to say now it’s come down to it.

Jeongguk moves back in, his body shoved between your legs slightly as he moves closer. You gaze up at him, the light behind him making his body glow dark, sighs like whispers in the quiet ambience.

“I really had a lot of fun tonight,” Jeongguk says, like it’s a secret. “Even though this morning your family almost had a heart attack discovering that we were, well, whatever we are...I still had fun.”

You hum in agreement, watching his face as it moves into the light. “Yoojung had the best time. I haven’t seen her that happy since she met Paul Rudd at Disneyland, and that’s seriously impressive.”

Jeongguk laughs quietly. “Paul Rudd.” He almost can’t believe that.

“As for us,” you continue, stress on the ‘us’ which brings Jeongguk’s attention full circle and back entirely onto you in the backseat of his ride, “well...what are we?”

For a few moments, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. “I have the fantasy and the reality.”

You nod, encouraging, and so he continues. “The fantasy is that we give it a go. We try it, really try. Y/N, with every small inch of my delicate, precious body-” (giggles are delivered by you as he speaks)- “I absolutely adore you. And I never knew I could feel like how I feel with you. I only ever wanted the sex, and even then, I didn’t want it that badly, and then you wandered into my life and everything feels so...so...I don’t even know a word. I just know it feels amazing when I’m with you- I feel amazing. And, of course, the reality is that we’re two sad early twenties rich kids who are pining and don’t know what to do about it.”

And it’s true, it’s so true. The sad reality of it all was that unless either one of you stepped up first, this dynamic of uncertainty would continue on as the norm. Where you were too shy to be bold and make a move, Jeongguk felt too insecure to step up.

“Well, then…” you start, chewing the inside of your cheek, thinking. “How about we try making the fantasy our reality?”

Nothing.

Jeongguk blinks and cocks his head in bewilderment. “Really?” You nod. “You want to?”

“If I didn’t want to, why the hell would I leave my house with wet hair to go eat at Olive Garden and lovingly stroll on a beach at midnight?”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Oh, so it was loving?”

“I was definitely feeling some kind of way,” you confirm.

At long last, Jeongguk smiles wide, shuffling closer. His hands wrap around your face gently, like holding a delicate bird in two palms, and his fingers brush against your ears, tickling the skin, nails fingering your hair.

“That’s good to hear,” he replies, “Great, actually.”

“Yeah?”

Now, Jeongguk hums, his trademark reply for when his eyes are too lost for words to be conjured up to describe how he feels about what he sees. He is, what one might recall to be as “lost for words”. His teeth clip at his bottom lip as he questions what he’ll do next, and for a brief moment you catch his tongue darting out in nervousness as he leans closer, smell of mint on his breath as his lips touch yours, and the heavens open.

Metaphorically and literally, so. As Jeongguk brings you closer to him, his lips still pressed on yours, his heart elevates into subspace, his body light and euphoric. At the same time, the sky grumbles, hungry, and it begins to pour, tiny droplets on the roof of the car and on Jeongguk’s back. He winces, doesn’t pull away, and quickly separates himself from you to squint at the sky.

He sees nothing, because it’s way too dark, but he feels it. Sighing briefly, Jeongguk turns back to you and nods his head upwards, miming for you to shuffle backwards into the car. A rush of something hot creeps down the middle of your body as you do so, feeling Jeongguk’s hand on your calf as he climbs in after you, his ankle caught on the door bringing it to a close, but not fully. The red alarm light is bright and begging for attention but Jeongguk pays it no mind.

Instead, he crawls back to you, eager to pick up what he left. It’s welcomed, warm and inviting, as Jeongguk holds you back closer to him and returns the kiss, hot and open mouthed. Something clicks inside of you, a moment of realisation as Jeongguk sets himself over you, his thighs like a cage and his hair tickling your eyebrows. When this feeling simmers, you grin, something Jeongguk is only mildly surprised about. He doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t really need to.

In fact, Jeongguk doesn’t really say anything at all; he doesn’t need to, and he actually can’t, given the volume of the rain now it comes down heavier. It’s so loud, almost deafening, which you almost thank out loud for. The rain at least covers up your breathy moans as Jeongguk’s hands wander, pulling at the bottom of your dress and fisting it into a ball, the fabric rising higher.

When Jeongguk finally pulls himself away, it is selfish. He pulls back and sits down, in the middle seat so there’s a window view from every angle, his feet in either footwell. Jeongguk shakes his head and hair out of the way, his hands making their way back to you to bring you up and over into his lap. This time, Jeongguk accepts a kiss from you, his cheeks cupped almost by your hands which gives his hands free reign to smooth across your body, swiftly lifting the bottom half of your dress up, wrapping it like a belt across your hips. If the rain were silent, he’d like to have heard you, heard the way you whimper as the bulk in Jeongguk’s jogging bottoms brushes against your pussy, the fabric of your underwear making it hypersensitive and ten times more exciting.

Jeongguk’s lips widen, his mouth open and inviting for you, accepting tongue when you bring your lips back to his after a short break. His eyes flutter and roll backwards, the tickle of your breath through your nose on his skin as he holds you closer, as if you can get any closer than what you already are. Then, when you quite suddenly bite down onto Jeongguk’s tongue and lips, he groans, pleasured, his hands moving beneath your skirt to grab your ass, lifting you up and down on his very attentive boner.

If Jeongguk or yourself ever thought that the first time you’d have sex would be near the public beach in the back of his car in the middle of a very thunderous rainstorm, you might have laughed, or said there would be more to it. In actual fact, it’s just how it is- Jeongguk shimmies himself out of his bottoms soon enough, reaching into the back side of the car to pull out a condom, since he always has some in case of emergencies, like most guys do. He’d like to not use one, but he knows it’s not safe- he doesn’t know if he’s got something, or if you’ve got something. Either way, he rolls it onto his dick in a record speed and sinks you down onto him all within the same ten seconds, and, yeah- it’s not what he expected to happen, it’s not what anybody expects to happen, but it feels right, feels great. When he’s fucking somebody as good and as lovely as you, he’s not allowed to be picky on the location.

He can’t allow himself to be picky- he knows that he’s wanted you ever since he saw you swirling to Dancer in the Dark, he knows that things are meant to be how they play out. Actually, he doesn’t mind it. He likes the risk of someone seeing, likes the way the windows fog up and how the car rocks slightly, obvious to people outside. Jeongguk relishes in that excitement, crossed with the pleasure and arousal coursing through his body when his attention is pulled out of hit thoughts and back onto you. The rain quietens down and he hears you, feels his hands grip tighter around you and his guided pace quicken, all with a breathy high tone in his ear, occasional breaches of rain and roars of thunder, an orchestral accompanying each of you through the sex, until gushing sounds of rain are what he hears when he sees white in his eyes and over his dick, a melting handprint in the condensation on the window.

[02:34AM] You: def just heard something on my balcony so if i die, pls tell yoongi that it was ME who lost his left airpod and it was also me who stole his signed Nirvana album it’s on my shelf im sorry [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: um  [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: wtf….. [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: u really just gonna die and not leave anything for me???? [02:36AM] You: SSKSSKKSKSKSK [02:36AM] You: u can have my bank account details + contents [02:36AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: !!!!!!!! [02:37AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: omg rip y/n <3 u will be missed omg…..omg cant believe ur dead

All jokes aside, you stare for a long time at your balcony doors, going insane at the sight of nothing at all through the glass and your curtains, slightly see-through to allow the sun in the mornings.

The night burns on your eyes, flashing swirls of colour taking over as you stare for too long at seemingly nothing at all. Quite possibly, it is the wind, or an animal that has climbed onto the balcony from out of one of the trees. It’s happened before- one time, a family of raccoons migrated onto your balcony during the September months of last year, and stayed there for so long that you forgot your balcony had doors. Those same doors are locked, like they always are on a nighttime, but the bedroom window remains open, slightly pushed out to allow in a breeze to circulate the room.

Knowing that it’s probably nothing, you settle back down into bed, drifting back into sleep remarkably fast for somebody previously quite concerned with being killed. This fact is startling- not just to you, but also to Jeongguk, who cocks a leg over your balcony rail and then through your window. What also shocks him was how easy it was to do all of this, now that he’s standing in your bedroom with nothing to say given the fact that you’ve fallen back to sleep.

Jeongguk sighs softly. It’s been about a week and a half since the beach, and the car, and the rain and the first time, but it feels like it’s been months. Jeongguk had to leave for a few days, three at the most, to film some puppy interview for Buzzfeed and continue other solo interviews while the rest of the band settled for a break in their LA residence. Every moment away felt like agony, so painful that Jeongguk found himself back outside your house, surprises stored in emails on his phone.

He steps quietly over towards your bed, wincing when his weight on top of the comforter causes a loud rustle and squeak. Still, you don’t wake, not until Jeongguk lays himself over you with his hands near your shoulders, his voice quiet and murmuring your name, hair tickling your face, lips on skin.

“Wha-Jeongguk?” you ask quietly, your voice groggy. “How’d you get in here…?”

“I think you need security, urgently,” Jeongguk replies quietly. When you roll over onto your back, he smiles gently and wraps hair from out of your face around your ear. “And you need to start locking your windows. You make a robbery look very easy.”

You sigh. “Oh. I thought it was okay.”

“Just be glad your intruder is me and not somebody else,” he says caringly. “Sorry I woke you.”

“No,” you say, rubbing your eyes. “I was awake...and then I closed my eyes for a bit. Hey, was that you out on the balcony?”

Jeongguk grins. “Knew you saw me.”

“I didn’t. Well, I did, but I thought I was being overly paranoid,” you tell him. You yawn away from him, “What time is it, babe?”

Jeongguk purposefully ignores the feeling in his chest. “It’s two fourty.”

You groan. “Are you stopping the night? Get in, I’m tired.”

Jeongguk brings himself down to kiss you once. “No. No, no, you can’t sleep right now. I wanna go out.”

“Now?” you ask, aghast.

“Yeah. Let’s go somewhere.”

“At like three-am?”

“Yeah, sorry, it was the only time I could get it. I wanna take you somewhere special.”

Once Jeongguk is finished speaking, you open your eyes wider and observe him. It’s only then that you notice his clothing; over his upper body, he wears a large oversized grey hoodie, slightly worn out and wrinkled with the drawstring missing, and as always, dark jeans that blend in with the night. A frown worms its way onto your face, your expression unreadable to Jeongguk’s eyes.

“Get it? Get what, babe?” you mutter.

Jeongguk hums, like shrugging.

“Where are we going?” you ask, starting to sit up which forces Jeongguk to roll over on the bed, until his feet swing over the side and hit the floor. He wants to stay quiet for the sake of yourself, considering he’s not looking forward to accidentally waking up your family. You’ve been staying at your parents' place for the entire week, abusing reading week for sleeping in, going out for something to eat, and returning home to watch Glee rather than finish your art assignments. Naturally, Jeongguk doesn’t want the whole family to reject him just because he woke them up at three in the morning to collect you from your room.

“Hm,” Jeongguk starts, straining to hear if anything outside your bedroom catches his ear. He faintly hears the sound of claws across the wood, remembering you once mentioning that your family had a dog. “How about we go to Paris?”

You whip around to look at him, making out his silhouette in the dark. “Paris? Are you fucking with me?”

“Why, what’s wrong with Paris?”

“There is nothing wrong with Paris,” you affirm, gasping. “I just...really? Paris?”

“Yeah. Thought we could stop by The Louvre to see that dude Maxine tried to set you up with.”

You snort quietly, moving to turn on a lamp which brightens the room into shades of orange. “How did you even know about that?”

“I hear things,” he says, shrugging. Jeongguk then shakes his head and looks back at you, making his way to the bottom of the bed. “No. I just really wanna take you out somewhere special.”

“The beach was special to me,” you tell him.

Jeongguk smiles, “Me, too. But...Paris.”

Laughter bubbles at the back of your throat. “Okay. Let’s go to Paris. Why not?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk agrees, laughing also, “why not? Need help packing anything? You won’t need a lot, I can take you out when we get there.”

You pull a face, looking back at Jeongguk. “Wow...our first vacation together and you’re already going to spoil me?”

Jeongguk grins widely, “Well, on our first date I humped you, so I guess we’re pretty unconventional.”

You have nothing to say in reply to that.

(PARIS)

One thing you never thought you’d get the chance to do is take a trip on a private jet, holding up the scheduled flight times of other aircraft at the airport. That changes the second that Jeongguk pulls up outside of LAX, his hand carefully and tightly clamped around your own as he escorts you whilst also being escorted by his own small handful of security right into the large building. Thankfully for him, the airport is empty, occupied by sleeping flyers who wait on hard, metal chairs, the tinny sound of music playing at volume three.

His jet is small, yet luxurious; it’s everything out of a movie set, decorated in mocha creams and whites, clinking glasses of champagne waiting to be swallowed. His pilot knows him by name, and there’s a handpicked air hostess who looks bored and old, her lock screen a picture of her children. Jeongguk smiles at her, even addresses her by name and introduces you with a chirpy tone. The lady looks surprised, covering it up with a tight smile of nervousness. Maybe you’re the only girl Jeongguk’s ever brought on the plane before. Maybe you’re another girl he’s brought on the plane, you don’t know for sure.

After take off, Jeongguk spins in his recliner seat and drums his fingers in his lap. You sit opposite, looking meek, your gaze out the window at the dark clouds and sky. As you continue to fly, the sky opens up, into ombre colours that fascinate. One is looking at the beauty of nature and the other is looking at the beauty of a woman. Neither says a word.

When the plane reaches touch down, the airport is quite bustling and energetic, thankfully again no fans who caught an air of mystery from Jeongguk’s suspicious tweets at one in the morning, when he spontaneously booked tickets without even getting the green flag. Money to waste, risks to take, is what he’d say. Jeongguk helps you carry your small bag to the hired vehicle, an inconspicuous black car with black-out windows. He’s half expecting the vehicle to give him away, but nobody present actually gives a fuck about who is in the car and who isn’t. So, he climbs in without being noticed, his hand in yours, right up until the doors close and you’re hotel bound.

“Fuck, jet-lag.”

Jeongguk dives onto the bed, his back on the duvet and nose tipped up to the ceiling. Presently, you’ve been in Paris for a few hours, staring at the roads below with tired and sleepy eyes, heavy shoulders, a day indoors. Jeongguk’s been to Paris before, quite a few times actually - you haven’t, seeing the city in glimpses outside your balcony. To his right, the bathroom light clicks off and you shuffle out, a towel wrapped around your body as you cross the width of the room.

“Right?” you agree with a small frown. You crouch to pick up a fallen jacket off the back of the chair, tucked underneath the white vanity. “I almost fell asleep in the shower.”

“Yeah? You tired?”

“Exhausted,” you say honestly. “Once I’m dry, I think I might head to bed.”

Jeongguk hums in reply, maybe agreement. He lets you do what you need to do; of course, he takes a peek, because he’s a boy and he can’t help himself. You’re dressing by the window, staring out at the pretty Eiffel Tower who shines, lit up for the evening. The room is dark, dressed in midnight tones, the only light outside and the glow of one of the lamps upon the table top. Jeongguk is so wordlessly in awe that he doesn’t care about not being able to see. He sees your silhouette against the light of the city, curved and beautiful, hidden away by a long button up that you picked out of the wrong suitcase, not that he cares. His cheek is pressed against the pillow and he feels his body lifting up off the bed like he’s levitating. God, his chest is so light, it hurts, he wants to scream, he wants to cry, laugh, smile, leap up and yell. You finish buttoning and turn and he returns to the mattress.

The bed dips as you crawl up onto it, your knees by Jeongguk as you sit next to him on the bed. Instantly, Jeongguk’s hands move to your hair to move it away from your face as you look down at him, one hand on your knee also. On command, the smile on his lips widens softly when you brush away his fringes off his face, humming and then reaching down for a kiss, stealing one from his lips without warning and another off the slope of his chin.

“Paris is pretty,” you tell him. Jeongguk hums. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He shrugs awkwardly. “Sorry it’s not the Maldives, baby.”

“Whatever. Paris is better,” you say. “Our view is gorgeous.”

You look back at the window. Jeongguk does not. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“Must have been expensive as fuck,” you exhale, turning back to him. His hand that was once on your face drops to your back, wandering until it’s found on your ass. It feels nice, you can’t complain.

“Rich kids of LA come to Paris to make noise and take tourist photos by the Eiffel Tower,” Jeongguk replies, joking but sounding serious, which is a talent of his. You laugh, so he knows it’s something you recognise. He laughs too. “It’s actually in Yoongi’s name. Just asked him if I could use it for a weekend away.”

Your brows curve upwards in amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m a fraud, it’s not my apartment,” he sighs, “but, at least we’re here. Like it enough, and I’ll buy us a house here.”

“Are we really there yet?”

“Might be,” Jeongguk theorises. “Wanna try it for a bit longer?”

Nothing is said. Outside, a car honks and you sigh at the same time, through your nose, playing with your fingers with Jeongguk’s locks of hair that grow longer over his face. His head hasn’t moved, still squashed against the pillows, his earrings tangled and most likely stuck to strands of his hair, a difficulty for when he decides to move. He feels your hand on his face again, comforting, and he inhales your familiar scent and knows you’ve come closer by the time you’re there, pressing your lips to his.

It’s fleeting, fast. You pull away right as Jeongguk comes to terms with what you’re doing, and so he follows you up as you move away. He’s sitting up, his hands on your elbows as he moves to kiss you again, finish what you started.

A bar door outside opens and music spills out, just as Jeongguk’s hands move from your elbows to your ribcage, his heart in his throat when you reach up to tenderly hold his face, fingers near his ears on his neck. This is euphoria; your hands drop, Jeongguk moving once more to prod and palm. As he kisses you, his thumbs gently massage around your breasts, in circular motions, soft and cradling and exploring. Into his mouth you groan, quietly, like a vocal moan that lasts for a few seconds before being captured by his lips again. Jeongguk’s left hand claws at your boob, grabbing, reaching up to your neck. Now he’s holding you, his hair in his eyes tickling as he guides you. On your cheek, you feel his thumb grazing, holding you close to him even when you pull apart for a modicum of a second to capture your breath. Quite possibly, he could be sick out of nerves - your hands fall limply to his wrists, then down as his hands hold the damp back of your head. After a little longer, Jeongguk pulls himself away, his eyes half-lidded and yours closed entirely.

He admires what he’s done and what he sees. Once more, he kisses you, dragging it out until he’s moved away again, simply admiring. You’re far from done, though; you pull him back after catching your breath, your eyes now open and slightly fuzzy. Jeongguk smiles, warmly, gently. You might cry. As his hands drop from your head to the top of your shirt, fiddling with his fingers around the buttons, your lip gets caught between your bottom teeth and Jeongguk’s eyes are drawn to the sight. He might make a comment, might not. He decides not to. Instead, he moves back in and bides his hands time to undo your buttons.

The cool silk of your shirt drops as he undos the buttons, sliding like rainwater down your shoulders and arms, until it pools around your elbows. Thankfully for him, Jeongguk’s only in joggers and a button down, something he can easily slip himself out of. You’re wearing next to nothing, now that the shirt’s out of the question; all that decorates underneath is underwear, which Jeongguk doesn’t care for anyway. His hands paw at the shirt, trying to undo the last button without pulling away but it feels impossible. Frustrated, he huffs and moves away, his gaze locked on the final button above your pantline and he flushes when a laugh leaves your lips, something small and delicate and girly. He twitches.

“You, too,” you say, once the shirt is removed and you’re only in underwear, which is next on Jeongguk’s list of things to remove. He looks up with mild surprise, having the audacity to be confused by what you’re talking about. It is only when your fingers curl around the waist of his joggers that he smiles, like an idiot, and hums charmingly.

“Shuffle back for a minute?” Jeongguk asks, and you do, excited and buzzing when Jeongguk quickly pushes the joggers down his thighs. When they bunch around his ankles he kicks furiously, like a child, grunting - and you’re laughing, giggling like a school-girl, drunk on the residue of his lips. Of course, he smiles too, because happiness is a goddamn drug. He inhales with exasperation, muttering “아이씨” under his breath. He finishes it up with a chuckle, a voiceless laugh out of his throat, and then he kisses you again.

Jeongguk eventually ends up lifting you, one arm flush against your waist and his other hand graciously ripping down your underwear, careless and selfish when he hears the fabric tear. Your eyes widen, having heard it too, but you’re too dazed to mention it. The undies are tossed towards the balcony door and Jeongguk settles you back on his lap, for a brief moment. He kisses you again, pulling himself snug against you and then, he lays you down.

“So pretty,” Jeongguk comments, his hands sliding down your sides.

“You can’t even see me,” you say.

Jeongguk shrugs, shuffling down the bed. His elbows pinch into your thighs, locking his arms over them and his chin is on top of your groin. “Don’t need to. I just know.”

You slightly laugh, finding it endearing. Jeongguk chuckles too, pressing a kiss to your stomach and then his hands push up at your calves. With your legs up into arrow shapes, knees to the sky, Jeongguk kindly peels them apart, planting himself right in between.

“Jeongguk,” you breathe his name. He grins, you can feel his mouth extending against your skin. He doesn’t reply.

Situated between two smooth legs, Jeongguk’s head dips and dives. A groan is rasped out of you, followed by a string of moany exhales as Jeongguk’s tongue lays flat, covering every inch of your pussy further with sucks and nips that make your toes curl. Jeongguk’s not done this to you before. He feels slightly anxious, because he wants it to be good for you. He wraps his arms around your thighs, burrowing his head in.

“Mpmf- Jeongguk,” you gasp, your head hiding in the comforter. Jeongguk’s on his stomach, nonchalant. Jeongguk licks everywhere he can, kitten licks that stretch out into long ones, exploring. Your mouth drops. Jeongguk moves one hand away from your leg, his fingers curling up to your pussy to stretch out your labia, one finger lazily brushing against your clit. Each brush is exciting, teasing, sensitive. He hums. He’s heard you. He wants to hear more.

He doesn’t do more, because Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cum yet. He has his fun, feeling your thighs lock around his head and quiver when his fingers swipe on your nub, his tongue inching into your cunt, driving out sounds from your lips. Jeongguk entertains that for a few more minutes, hard and throbbing by the time you’re begging for him to stop, rather than keep going.

When he pulls away, your legs shake, quivering like being left out in the cold for too long. He lays down flat instead, tapping your body for you to make a move when you’re ready, which doesn’t take long. Soon after, he feels the brush of your wetness against his leg as you haul yourself up and onto him, hovering over his middle, your hands on his chest.

Jeongguk cocks his head thoughtfully. “Want to?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Hair falls over your shoulder. “Do you have a condom on you?”

“In my bag, somewhere,” Jeongguk suggests. He glances to the pile of bags near the door, “But it’s so far away. Are you on the pill?”

“No,” you frown. There’s nothing for a minute. “Want to anyway?”

Jeongguk hesitates, “Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah. I do,” you tell him. Just as you’re about to take his dick in your hand, Jeongguk reaches out to stop you. You look up at him, finding the glimmer in his eyes in the dull light, “what?”

“What if I cum?” Jeongguk asks.

“I’d like you to.”

“What if I cum inside of you?”

A short silence. Jeongguk drums his fingers impatiently against your thigh. “Whatever,” you settle with. His heart trembles when your hand wraps around him. “I’d be a good Mom.”

Jeongguk laughs, then, his other hand joining the other on your waist. “If it happens, I’ll look after both of you. You can be unemployed and pampered if that’s what you want.”

“God, that’s fucking sexy,” you sigh.

He’s kidding, so are you, but the risk is still great. Jeongguk swallows a thick lump down his throat and settles his hands on your hips, embarrassed to be nervous with the build up of you rising up on your knees, planted either side of his waist. A tremor of coldness makes him shudder as your hand touches the base of his dick, hypersensitive without the rubber. For a brief moment, he catches your gaze, slightly hidden away behind fringes of hair that cast over your eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, nervous and rubbing his hands against your skin.

You dip your head. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Mhm. I just - just want it to be good for you,” he confesses. “Don’t want it to hurt you. Don’t want you to regret it.”

“Well, are you clean? I got tested not too long ago, did it before my last pill. I’m clean.”

Jeongguk shifts. “Did it on tour with Hoseok. He was going because of Rosie and I was going because he suggested it for us. I’m good. That sound alright for you?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It sounds perfect for me.”

And so it’s perfect for him, too. Jeongguk questions whether this is right, whether he should stop, but right now he can’t think properly. Not when he can feel himself growing rigid in your grasp, the bristle in his body when you slowly rub your clit across the head of his cock, vibrations. He grunts under his breath, his fingers shaking against your hips. Looking up at Jeongguk once more between your hair, catching the pull of his bottom lip in the scarce light and feeling his body rising beneath you, you shake your head over your shoulders and position yourself. And then you sink.

Paris is a gorgeous city, bustling with life. Across the narrow road, where another small apartment sits with a bay window and a balcony decorated with plants, the lights flicker in strobe patterns, neons bleeding into dulls seeping into pastels. A party, a parade, an applause when the size of Jeongguk adjusts inside of you. He can’t hear you, not over the noise of the party that has suddenly birthed in the moonlight hours. Perhaps Jeongguk is thankful for this, and the way it covers up his noises also.

Jeongguk groans inwards when you clench around him, familiar with the way it feels, remembering the unaccustomed sting and burn. After some time to adjust, you relax, making your first movements up and down, testing the waters, building a rhythm. Jeongguk can’t breathe, his mind paused, his breathing lodged in his throat, his lungs singing. You keep it up, the momentum, finding a pattern in the beat of the music in the background; the bass is your routine, each bump a drop onto Jeongguk’s hips, the brush of his head against your inner walls, euphoric.

“Oh my - fuck,” Jeongguk hisses, his voice barely heard. You catch it though, like a faint whisper, the sound burning your face with embarrassment. His grip tightens, nails digging into your skin as his palms slide from your hips to your ass. He holds like handles of a motorbike, guidance.

You’re slouching, hunched over with your hands on Jeongguk’s chest. He feels a pressure, not sure if it’s your hands pushing down or if it’s his own body, forcing down an orgasm he doesn’t want to have too soon. He sees purple behind you, your dark silhouette cast over him like an angel. With every slap against his body made by your ass, Jeongguk groans, grunts, borderline moans. When he strains to hear your gasps of air something in the background masks them, a sabotage.

“Feel good?” Jeongguk asks. His hands move to your wrists.

You whimper, thoughtless.

“Babe, does it feel good?”

“Mhm.” Your head falls to the side, cheek on your shoulder: “Mhm, feels good.” Something moany comes out of your lips, something muffled and whined. Imploring, spoiled. “Fuck, Jeongguk, that feels so good - keep….keep it like that.”

Jeongguk thinks it over, familiarising himself with his own movements. His grip squeezes around your wrist.

“Like that?” He follows with his body slowly thrusting up, like he would move if he were grinding the air, like inching his hips up under the covers to feel his dick on the duvet.

“Yeah,” you breathe. Even though he can’t see that well, you glance down at him: “can you - can you hold my hands?”

Jeongguk feels his stomach sink and rise, flipping, the butterflies. “Sure, baby.”

When you feel Jeongguk’s hands in your own, you hum to yourself, rising with your fingers interlocked. Jeongguk lets you do what you want with them, obliging when you slightly part his arms, hands locked on either side in the air. You sink, and rise, and sink, and rise, and Jeongguk is lost in the stars. Red, orange, blue, magenta- the rainbow appears as your wings, Jeongguk’s eyes trying to adjust in the dark on your face, on your tits, on the bits that are grainy in his vision. He imagines instead, based off memory of the beach, and the rain. When he feels your cunt clench around him again and your hands slip away to fall back behind you, Jeongguk curses into the air and lifts himself up, his arms wrapped around your middle.

“You feel so good,” Jeongguk says, his lips ghosted over yours now that he’s sitting upright. “Mhm? Hear me? Fuck, you feel so fucking good right now-”

You whimper. Jeongguk seals it up, steals it, captures it with his mouth as he kisses you. His hands are all twisted and searching, one between your shoulder blades and the other on your ass, his mind reeling when you put your palms on his cheeks, absolute bliss. It’s loud, or it would be if he could hear over the sound of the music in the apartment over, and Jeongguk picks up pieces in between the basslines, vocals and harmonies stripped apart so he can find your voice underneath. He pulls his mouth away, latching it to your neck, where your mouth is near his ear, right where he wants it. A hot flush runs up his body when he feels your breath on his ear, hears your needy moans and groans, feels your hands clawing at his back.

“Ugh- umf, Guk, I’m - I’m close,” you pant, his reply a bite to your neck. He sinks his teeth in, like a vampire with dull teeth, and you cry out into his ear. His cock twitches inside of you, the ridges of his cock smearing against your walls. He hums, not sure if you’ll hear it. You don’t. He pulls away and mouths the bite.

“Cum when you want to,” he says sweetly, moving his mouth to your ear briefly before moving back away. His hair is soft against your neck, his head angled to kiss at your skin, covered in a glow.

“What about you?” you ask.

Jeongguk smiles, his teeth present on your skin. “Don’t worry about me. I’m right behind you.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck, his eyes closed serenely as he holds you tight, holds you as you bounce up and down for the finale. Above him, your body trembles.

“Tired,” you laugh breathlessly, and Jeongguk makes a confused noise, like he hasn’t quite heard you correctly. After no reply, he sniffs, collecting you in his arms to hold you tighter than before, using his energy to move you. You may as well be paralysed, a fucktoy for him as he bounces you up and down, basking in the moans in his ear, pornographic and nasty and lewd and heard over the music that has changed tempo.

“Ah!” Jeongguk grunts into your ear with every slam onto his dick, feeling his body seize up in warning. “Gonna - I might…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. You’re not listening to it. All you can focus on is the feeling in your stomach, pressing your nails into Jeongguk’s skin.

Jeongguk saves his own release for later. He focuses, instead, on you and making you feel good, slowing himself down in the race so that you can come first. His lips press back to yours, tongue hot, and he stops bouncing you. One arm is tight around your waist and the other snakes to the front of your body, between your legs where around your thighs he finds your clit, rubbing with his thumb. He can feel your body tense and dither over him, a tightness clenching around him as you squirm, Jeongguk’s hips tiredly thrusting upwards in a slow and steady rhythm.

“Ah - Jeongguk,” you cry, words sinking into his mouth. “Baby-”

With one final flick upwards, Jeongguk lets out a throat-forced grunt into your mouth right as the pot spills, and down the length of Jeongguk’s dick trickles white. You can’t see, it’s dark and blurry, and everything feels numb. It’s nothing like the beach, which was sweet and tender and a rainy haze. This time, it’s a burning that feels dull until it races up your body, like hot goosebumps, until it washes over your body like the drop from the tallest roller coaster. Jeongguk milks it up, his own hands shaking as he grunts wordlessly, until he stutters, his toes curling.

“Umf- babe,” he pants. He moves his hands, you’re attempting to move for him but you feel stuck. Instead you clench, hard and soft, Jeongguk squirms. “Gonna- I’m-” He’s silent. One moment, you hear the laughter and a cork pop outside, and the next moment, Jeongguk’s moans are in your ear, his hands rubbing up your thighs as he moves twice upwards, as if storing his cum in safe spots inside. And then, as if on cue, he pulls out, stuffing his hand where his dick was to feel the cum drip out, like a melting ice-cream.

On his forehead he feels your lips parted and breathing and he fiddles his fingers around, non-sexually, curious. The cum stains his fingers, dressing them, and he laughs from his chest, lost of breath.

Jeongguk sighs, slotting his fingers into your mouth quite suddenly. He can barely see you, the light is still dim behind you but it’s enough for him to make it out, the grain obtrusive. He feels your lips close around his fingers and your tongue on his fingertips, a dazed smile across his face.

He sighs again. “Shit. You’re incredible.”

With a wet sound, he moves his fingers out. Despite cumming, his dick is still semi-hard, on it’s way out. Jeongguk preens when your arms wrap around his neck, his mouth needily on yours for a brief kiss. “So good.”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly.

“The best,” he confirms. “Where’ve you been all my life, hm?”

You laugh through your nose, quiet. “Wasting money at Uni and working for my cousin.” He laughs too, a small one that makes him sound small. You play with the hair at the back of his head, “Sorry for making you wait so long.”

He shrugs. “Was worth it. You’re worth the wait.”

You hum in reply, too tired to move.

“Sticky,” you say with a frown.

Jeongguk’s arms tighten around you, acknowledging your words. “And you just got clean.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll shower in the morning.”

After a short while of sitting there, you slowly untangle your arms from around him. Jeongguk has the nerve to be confused, a small hum in question as you climb off him.

“Where you going?” he asks.

“I’m going to pee,” you reply. “To be safe.”

“Oh. Okay, pee on.”

“Sorry,” you say. Leaning up to kiss his lips, Jeongguk smiles into it and all the while as you move to hurry towards the bathroom. The sound of the toilet seat being lifted, and a slight squeak from the toilet that Yoongi desperately needs to consider replacing, and then Jeongguk settles down onto the bed with a happy sigh. His chest rises and falls as the party goes on outside, fireworks behind the Eiffel Tower.

He could get used to this.

Something wakes you up with the sunrise, twisting into soft orange colours that stretch across the agriculture of Paris. It barely lights up the city, enough for shadows to still be drawn across the mocha coloured buildings, the stone still cold in the shade. You wriggle inside the sheets slightly, discomfort between your legs and very slowly, your eyes adjust to the slight light brewing in the bedroom.

The patio doors leading out onto the small balcony are drawn open, the see-through curtains swaying like slow hips in the wind. Beside you, the bed is cold, untucked and open where Jeongguk has climbed out. Mentioning Jeongguk, you notice that he sits on the end of the bed, facing the sunrise and the Eiffel Tower with a notebook in his hand. The pages are folded over the spine, bulking it up, and he taps a pen against his ear quietly. The sound is all you can hear alongside the early-rising birds, a car honk outside and the next door neighbours hanging out of their window with chocolate bread and strong coffee.

“Mmm. Guk?”

Your voice is slightly hoarse, bedirdden, and Jeongguk manages to hear it as he turns his head over his shoulder. A smile dawns on his face and he shifts, one hand on the bed and the book closing shut on its own. “Hey, baby. Sorry, did I wake you up?”

You yawn, rubbing your eyes. Some mascara rubs off onto your hand. “No, you’re okay.” He doesn’t say anything at first, there’s no competition for the next word. When your vision finally settles onto a visible image, you see Jeongguk’s face and the book in his lap. “What are you doing…? Wait, what time is it…”

“It’s about five thirty,” Jeongguk estimates, although he’s not sure. He’s actually not far off, it’s five fourty one. “And, um...not much.” For a moment, Jeongguk sounds bashful. He shrugs, hiding the book and smiling at you. “You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll be quiet.”

“Kinda hungry,” you admit. You inhale the air, “Oh my God, those fuckers next door have coffee.”

“Chocolate bread, too. Caught a glimpse when I opened the doors.”

You groan. “What the fuck…”

Jeongguk laughs, genuinely. His head turns back towards the Eiffel Tower, in awe, and after a few minutes of nothing but morning silence, you sigh and clamber over the sheets. They’re cold, crisp and wrinkled, and Jeongguk looks up at the noise. He frowns, only because you’re wearing barely anything.

“You’re gonna get cold,” Jeongguk points out, his hands reaching for the bed throw that had been kicked onto the floor during the night. “Want me to close the window?”

“No, it’s pretty.”

“It’s cold, though.”

You push your face onto Jeongguk’s shoulder blade. “Whatever.”

He chuckles, resigning from the conversation. You’ll win anyway. A tiny bird lands on the patio rails, and you inhale the morning air, planting a kiss on Jeongguk’s shoulder.

“You sure you’re okay?”

This makes Jeongguk look up. His eyes wear confusion and adoration, round and searching as he looks over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why, why wouldn’t they be?”

“I worry about you, ‘s all,” you reply quietly. “All the time.”

Jeongguk’s heart breaks.

“I’m...I’m good,” he replies honestly. “Really good. I haven’t been doing this great in...well...I don’t know, forever? Call it cringey, or whatever, but having you in my life...Fuck, it’s changed everything.”

You gaze up at him. “You’ve made a pretty big difference in my life, too, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m here for you. Always.”

Jeongguk doesn’t miss a beat- his hand wraps to stroke your hair, curled from the shower earlier, pressing a little kiss to your nose. He nods, and his hair brushes against your face. “Yeah.” He nods, confident, “Yeah. Actually- LOL,” he laughs, “I. Um, I wrote something.”

“Oh? Yeah, what did you write?”

He reopens the book. The pages are littered with lines of writing, alongside small doodles in the margins, words like arrows shooting across the lines. His hands flip to a page that has the corner marked down, the numbers “23” in bold outline at the top of the page. You inhale, nervous, your eyes lazily looking at the lines.

“Just a song,” Jeongguk explains. “Woke up, looked over at you, just got the idea. I had to write it down as soon as I thought about it. Got the melody and stuff worked out, just need to make a note and tell the guys when I get back.”

You hum, genuinely enthralled. You quickly look at him, “Can I hear some?”

If it were light enough, you might have caught a blush across his face. He clears his throat, shy.

“I’m fadin’ away off some kind of drug, maybe it’s lust, maybe it’s love,” his voice is quiet, almost as if speaking the words is something wrong, “I know I said I’d straighten a week ago, I feelin’ though, bout to reach my peak, you know. This city’s got me fallin, now, I’m fading away, I’m losing my head…” He mutters the lyrics, singing quietly. As he skims over what he’s got scribbled down, you can feel your heart thudding, soaring, feeling numb and soft and warm and everything else.

“It’s about you, called 23,” Jeongguk says. At some point, you’ve missed the rest of the lyrics, intent on gazing at Jeongguk like he is God’s angel sent down from Heaven. He is so beautiful, so kind and pure. “Sound okay?”

You nod, and maybe Jeongguk sees tears pearling in your eyes. “Yeah. Fuck- it sounds beautiful, Guk.”

A smile immediately reaches across Jeongguk’s face. It lights up the room better than the sun, now reaching higher into the sky. “You’re beautiful. I wanna make you so happy.”

“You do make me happy.”

“Yeah?” he asks, laughing, his eyes turned into moons. “Well...Look. I’ve never had to ask anyone, so it’s awkward as fuck right now, but...like…” He laughs, and you do too, because you know it’s coming, “Do you, like...wanna be my girl?”

“Your girl?”

He laughs louder. “Fine - my girlfriend! Y/N L/N, the light of my small and sad life, will you please be my girlfriend?”

Once your laughter has calmed down, and Jeongguk’s hand tiredly slips from your hair down to the bed next to your own, you really, honestly look at Jeongguk. Above everything else, you can’t quite believe that you are here with him; with somebody you never thought you had a chance with, with somebody who you would do absolutely anything for. The way you presently feel about Jeongguk is overwhelming and dangerous, so strong that sometimes you feel afraid by it. You bite your bottom lip, amusing the idea of actually thinking about it, and then you nod.

“Sure. Of course,” you agree, kissing his shoulder. His head follows you, his breath on the bare skin of your shoulders as he ducks his head to kiss the side of yours. “You’ve got me.”

Jeongguk feels like he could quite honestly burst into tears. “I’ve got you.”

(“I’m not 23 though,” you say to him once the love has died down. He cracks a smile and pushes you back onto the bed, returning to look at the Eiffel Tower.)

part two (final)

[elsanna-shenanigans]

February Contest Submission #5: Welcome

words: ca. 3,100 setting: mAU lemon: no cw: no warnings apply

<I would like to acknowledge the Traditional Custodians of the land in which this story was written and shared, and pay my respects to their Elders, past, present, and emerging, for they hold the memories, the traditions, culture, and hopes of all Indigenous Australians. I acknowledge that this land is, and always will be, the land of the Jagera/Yuggera people, and that sovereignty was never ceded.>

*

“A snake made the world?”

Anna inhaled, then exhaled through her nose. Kristoff scratched idly at his stubble while they waited for their coffees to be made, standing around the uni café.

“It’s a mythos, Kris,” she said after a moment. “Just like Christian God, or Allah, or- I dunno. Whatever specific being any other major religion thought made the world.”

“But a snake.”

“Rainbow Serpent, actually. And it’s really interesting, if you bothered to listen.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off when their names were called and two coffees placed on the counter. Anna took the chance, moving forward and grabbing her own cup and a few extra sugar packets. By the time Kris had caught up to her, she’d already dumped two into her drink, gently stirring it with a paddle-pop stick.

“I did listen,” he said, clearly intent on continuing the conversation. “And doesn’t the story go that the land and shit already existed but the big snake made mountains and valleys and stuff?”

Taking a sip of her drink, more to waste time than anything, Anna had to concede that he wasn’t wrong, per-se. He was just missing all the nuances of the topic, though!

“Look, I just thought it was cool, is all,” she said once she’d finished the mouthful of, frankly, fairly mediocre coffee. Nice and sweet, though. “Like, out of the seven-hundred-ish tribes– uh. Mobs. Most of them have an origin story that’s so similar. Across the whole country! But the languages they use are completely different – did you know the name of the language is traditionally based on their word for ‘no’? I just… thought it was cool.”

“It is cool, Anna,” Kristoff said, shooting her a small smile. “And I know learning about all this stuff means a lot to you.”

Swallowing again, though more from the dryness that had suddenly appeared in her mouth, Anna nodded. “Well, Mum isn’t around to teach me this stuff anymore. But I don’t wanna miss out and regret it forever.” Suddenly, she perked up. “Hey, did I tell you? I’m going to a thing today!”

“A thing?”

Nodding – so emphatically that she spilled her coffee, the brown liquid sloshing over the side of the cup and landing with a splat on the floor – she grinned up at her friend. “Yeah! It’s this traditional Indigenous show-thing? I can’t really remember what it’s about, but it wasn’t too expensive and they’re doing everything – a Welcome to Country, and stories and bush tucker, and I think they said a corroboree at the end?”

“That sounds really cool, Anna,” Kris said, just as his watch beeped at him. “You’ll have to tell me all about it. Uh. After class.”

Sighing, but this time with a smile, Anna waved him off – spilling her drink again in the process. “See you later, dude,” she said. She probably had to start getting ready, anyway.

Throwing the remnants of her coffee in the bin, Anna made her way back home. A forty-minute bus ride home, only to take a quick shower (how fortunate the drought of her youth had trained her in the art of 3-minute washes…) before heading back out again. It was cooling off, but she knew the evening wouldn’t get cold by any stretch of the word. It smelled like it was going to rain, and she heard the kookaburras again as if to confirm the thought.

Kookaburra laughing means it’s gonna rain, she thought to herself. 

It was another forty-minute ride on the bus, and Anna felt herself becoming giddier and giddier with excitement. It’s one thing to learn about this sort of stuff in class. Now, she gets to experience some of it.

Even the first few splatters of rain on the window of the bus can’t dampen her mood.

*

By the time she arrived, the small drizzle had turned into a full-fledged shower. It wasn’t a storm – it felt a little early in the season (or late in the year) for that – and it would probably pass soon. She was glad she wore closed-in shoes, though, because it turned the earth into a sticky, muddy substance that stuck to everything.

There was only one other girl her age, and though Anna didn’t want to seem too invested, she was also cognisant enough to recognise that she’d rather interact with her than with any of the other people. A glance at the assembled crowed, standing under a large tent as protection from the rain, only confirmed her suspicions: there was at least one tour group, mostly made up of retirees; a school group, probably from the city’s Boys Grammar school, judging by the pretentiousness (and the uniforms). And the girl.

Not that she needed to worry about it. It was very much a group thing in that they weren’t asked to find partners or actually even talk to each other – not at first. First it was a respectful silence – and for Anna, a respectful reverence – as an Elder stood before them to give an official Welcome to Country. He described the land, before White colonisers; the shape of it, the boundaries between Turrbal Country and Jagera Country; the Meeanjin people, who weren’t able to claim Native Title for the land that still was theirs. Even the private school boys were silent, weren’t even fidgeting. Anna had to blink a little harder than usual, and she didn’t stop until he’d finished his piece.

No one clapped, but then, they weren’t supposed to.

A sudden flash of anger overtook her, and she had to face the ground just so she wouldn’t ruin this moment for everyone else. Why had her mum kept this from her? Why did she have to go searching, find out herself? How could they have grown up, let her grow up, not knowing a thing about her heritage??

“Hey, you okay?”

Jerking her head up, Anna found herself having to blink once more to force the angered tears away. The girl she’d noticed earlier was standing in front of her; everyone else had moved on, walking over the red land and towards a building.

“Y-yeah,” she responded. “I’m just…”

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” The girl looked over her shoulder at the crowd. “C'mon, I don’t think you want to miss this next part.” With a quick, but sincere, smile, the girl turned around and began the return to the group. Anna followed, a few steps behind.

“I don’t?”

The girl shook her head. “I’m Elsa, by the way.”

“Anna. Nice to meet you.”

Elsa just smiled at her, slowing down enough to let Anna fall into step beside her. 

*

Elsa was right: she did not want to miss this.

Once they regrouped, everyone was led into a darkened room. There was a star projector in the centre, a surprisingly real-looking, but definitely fake, fire built around it. They’d lit incense, or something, and when the door behind Anna closed and she was asked to sit on the floor, she found it really easy to imagine being here, back in the long ago.

It wasn’t the Elder who spoke this time. Another man, several years younger, came to sit in front of everyone. He had no shirt on, but his chest was painted in various pigments of ochre and white, only just distinguishable in the dim light of the fake fire and stars (and, Anna realised when she turned around, the fire exit sign). Elsa was sat behind her; she lifted her eyebrows once, still smiling, and Anna hurriedly turned back to the speaker in front her her.

And boy, did he speak. He told the story of the Rainbow Serpent, who carved the mountains and the valleys, and who tickled the frogs until they laughed, and the water that had been kept in their fat bellies burst and filled the tracks that had been made. He spoke about the animals that followed the Rainbow Serpent, who obeyed her and were rewarded by becoming human; those who did not would be made stone again.

But he spoke of other stories, too, ones she hadn’t heard before. He spoke about the Three Brothers, who were found mixing with women of another skin-group – a serious offence – and found their lives forfeit, as there were strict rules around marriage and mingling. Another person came up after that, a young woman, who told the story of Mundiba and they Honey, which was a cautionary tale against greediness and selfishness, as he had been asked to collect honey but had kept it for himself. A spirit had grown suspicious, and upon witnessing Mundiba taking the honey, had sung to the trees to trap Mundiba, where he had perished.

The last tale that was told, just as the retirees were losing focus and the boys began squirming, was the tale of the two wise men and seven sisters. Another origin story, Anna thought, and enjoyed it all the same because it spoke of people who weren’t people. This story, the audience was told, was from Wong-Gu-Tha country. 

In the beginning, it says, the Creator sent two spirit men, Woddee Gooth-tha-rra, to shape Yulbrada, the Earth. They came from the far end of the Milky Way, and were tasked with making the hills and valleys. They made the cliffs and the oceans, the plains and the mountains. And when their work was almost complete, the Creator sent seven sisters, who were stars of the Milky Way, to make the land beautiful with flowers and trees, springs and billabongs, and all the birds and animals and all the creepy things.

Anna had to stifle a little smile when the woman said that. Not that she had to – the woman was smiling, clearly enjoying telling the story, perhaps more than Anna was enjoying hearing about it.

The sisters were making the Honey Ants when they became thirsty, and asked the youngest to find some water for them all to drink. She dutifully took her dish and went off, in the direction her sisters had sent her, to find water.

The Woddee Gooth-tha-rra were in the bushes, spying on the women, and followed the youngest went she went for water. They did not hide, and she fell in love with the two spirit men, and they her. The six sisters left became worried because the youngest had been gone so long. 

They had all been warned by the Creator that, should such a thing happen, they wouldn’t be able to return to the Milky Way. The youngest sister remained on Yulbrada with the two men, and became mortal. They became the parents of the earth, and made the laws and the people of the desert.

The woman fell silent as she finished her story, and Anna was left thinking. It was a creation myth so similar to Eden, but different. People came from the Heavens, but it wasn’t a punishment to remain on earth. They weren’t cast out for the knowledge they gained, but instead had to embrace it. It was love that made the people, not the wrath of any god.

It was a comforting thought.

*

After the stories, they were treated to a didgeridoo player, as well as a demonstration of spear-throwing, weaponry, and warfare stuff. They returned outside, the storm having passed and the remaining clouds providing just enough cover from the would-be blistering sun Anna was less invested, but the school boys definitely perked up. Actually, regardless of her open interest, she still found herself perking up. The storytelling, while interesting, had little action and more atmosphere. This had action.

She found herself sitting next to Elsa again, a question burning the tip of her tongue. When there was a short break while some of the boys asked questions about the weapons, there was a window to actually ask.

“How did you know I’d like that?" 

Elsa hadn’t been paying attention, naturally, and looked a little surprised when she turned to Anna. A smile graced her face; she looked comfortable.

"Everyone does. Even the kids, even if they thought it was a little boring.”

“Well, you were definitely right,” Anna said, an easy smile lifting to her own face. “Have you been here before?”

Before Elsa could answer, their attention was called for the next activity. A small wave of disappointment urged through Anna – she wanted to talk! – before she chastised herself. She had come here to learn all this stuff, even in this vaguely touristy way. She did not come here to make friends.

But… perhaps that would just be a happy bonus as everyone was led to a fire-pit and she realised that the next activity was lunch. An activity in which everyone was able to – nay, encouraged to – talk to everyone else.

Anna wasn’t going to talk to the school kids, and she held little interest in talking to the retirees. She didn’t even have to seek out Elsa; the other woman had left a spot next to her open, and was already looking at Anna and smiling.

They didn’t speak until after the food had been distributed: damper and dukkah – and a plate of different dips and chutneys on the side; skewers of kangaroo, crocodile, and emu; as well as more typical roasted meat. Potatoes and gravy, and all flavours she’d never tried before.

“This looks amazing,” Anna said to herself, eyes as round as the plates in which the food had been served. There was a light laugh from next to her, and she turned to find Elsa smiling.

“It tastes even better,"  she said. "And I know because I have been here before. Only once or twice, but it was enough to get me to come back.”

Anna thought back to how much this had cost her – well worth it, but it wasn’t cheap either – and then to the woman next to her. “It’s been amazing so far,” she agreed.

“And it gets better and better. This is probably the best one I’ve been to.” She said it without taking her eyes from Anna, who felt her cheeks burning. Was this woman flirting with her?

And then Elsa bit her bottom lip, still smiling, and nodded towards the food. “Go on, try it. I bet it’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”

Okay, yep, definitely flirting. Probably as red as a beet, and a shade that couldn’t just be blamed on the sun, Anna ducked her head and focussed on the damper. It came apart easily in her hands, and she dipped it in some of the… chutney?

“So, is this your first time here? What made you want to try it out?”

Elsa asked the questions just as Anna lifted the bread to her mouth. She’d definitely taken too large a bite, and probably looked silly. A possum in the headlights, with bulging cheeks and wide eyes. With some difficulty, she swallowed.

“Y-yeah,” she said, reaching for her cordial. “My um. My mum passed away recently and when I was going through her stuff I found some pictures and documents about where I- where she came from. Wanted to… reconnect, I guess?”

Elsa nodded along as Anna spoke. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, and she actually sounded like she meant it. “How are you finding it?”

It was impossible to tell if Elsa were talking about the death, or the discovery, so Anna chose to focus on the latter. “Well, I was really excited at first. I wanted to learn the language and talk to the Elders – I’m already doing Indigenous Studies at uni, so the chance to learn about it all from a personal perspective was really nice.”

“But…?”

“But Mum was Nunukul, so there’s no more language. I know they have the Quandamooka centre over at Straddie – uh, Minjerribah – but I don’t know if that’s the same. Jandai is not my people, or my language.”

Elsa nodded, taking another bite of her food. She was already half-finished, while Anna had been so focused on talking she’d barely started.

“I know what you mean,” Elsa said when she swallowed. She spoke slower than Anna, more thoughtfully; it gave Anna a chance to catch up with her food, at least. “My father is Tjungundji, so all I really have for that is some stupid word lists by old white people, sealed away in Canberra and gatekept by those same old white people.”

A bitterness seeped into her voice; a tempered fury that Anna was]s only just learning exists in her, too. A righteous anger over how much had been taken, not just from her, but from her people, and all other peoples who had been here before.

But she needed to look for the positives. She didn’t know much about Elsa’s mob, but she had been researching her own. She was lucky enough that not everything was taken or destroyed.

“It’s amazing what we’ve been able to recoup,” she said softly, thoughtfully. “I don’t think my grandma, or even my mum, really, could have imagined that their culture could be separated. It’s why they didn’t pass it down. But it is; it’s here and alive. Even though no one speaks Nunukul anymore, and it wasn’t really written down, we have the songs and stories of those people, even in English. I know the snake is my totem, even though I’m terrified of snakes. And I just think it’s amazing how much we’ve been able to put back together even after it all shattered. Things like this, today, are amazing, honest attempts at reconciliation.”

Elsa snorted gently, a smile on her face. “’Reconciliation’, eh? That’s the buzzword of the century.” Anna laughed and nodded. 

“I like to think it’ll keep getting better. Two years ago I’d have never even thought to do this – Indigenous history was just a boring subject in school. But next week I’m getting a snake tattoo, which is terrifying, and it’s been designed by an Indigenous artist and it’s something on me that they can’t take away.” She sighed. “We need to stop taking so much away.”

They fell into silence for a moment, finishing up the meals on their plate. It was a thoughtful silence, comfortable, before Elsa broke it.

“So, you’re terrified of snakes and tattoos. Why are you getting both? Why not choose another design?”

She asked the question so sincerely, honestly. That was all that was really needed, Anna realised. A genuine desire for understanding that, as wonderful as she believed Australian culture to be, she often found sorely lacking. The “she’ll be right” attitude that blinded people to problems. To truths and solutions.

“Because,” Anna said, smiling. Elsa looked right back at her, the expression mirrored on her face, and regardless of the flirting earlier, Anna thought that, at the very least, she had made a friend. “A snake made the world.”

[vipclifford]

Wildflower - Chapter 2

here’s the previous chapter

Soulmate AU where things in your life appear as flowers tattooed on your skin, each with their own meaning.

Calum inspected his newly acquired bloom in the mirror the next morning. It was small in size, which was good despite the fact that the bright blue petals made his skin look bruised. He rubbed frustratedly at the flower in hopes to make it go away, but that only made the petunia stand out more against his reddened skin. His actions were futile and he knew it. He pulled his shirt down in anger before storming out of the bathroom, unwilling to stare at the reflection of a cursed man a second longer.

He hated the fact that a stranger he had met twice had managed to mark his skin with such ease. He hated the fact that of all people, Calum was forced to associate his bloom with Rory, the girl he could only describe as a bitch. Because she was a bitch. He hated the fact that his body now housed two undesirable blooms.

Duke’s paws padded against the wooden floorboards as he made his way over to Calum, nudging his dad’s calf with his furry head to remind him that it was time for his daily walk. He crouched down to stroke the dog’s head, a gentle smile tugging at his lips for the first time that day. A walk could do them good.

The park was busier than usual, presumably to do with the fact that a small Christmas market had established itself there for the duration of the month. The smell of cinnamon and chocolate lured Calum closer to the stands that each year he fought hard to avoid. Maybe it was because he missed home, but Calum was always reluctant to embrace the wintertime Christmas culture. It made him feel like he was losing the person he used to be.

Calum remembers his first Christmas away from home.

He was staying in London with his four best friends, excitement in their eyes as they watched snowflakes fall for the first time in their lives. Christmas carols were playing in the background to get them in the yuletide mood; the roast dinner smelled amazing and multiple gifts were tucked neatly beneath the Christmas tree.

But everything felt so wrong to Calum as he sat down to eat his dinner. The fact that the sun had set at 4pm and that the temperature outside was below zero felt wrong. The fact that his usual barbecue had been replaced by a roasted chicken felt wrong. The fact that he was trapped inside a thick jumper when Calum was used to spending a shirtless day by the pool also felt wrong. All he could think about was his family, spending Christmas day in the sun as God intended. And it was that very day, at that very dinner table, that Calum bloomed a sprig of golden wattle on his forearm. The spirit of the Australian people.

He wrapped his coat tighter around his torso as he searched the makeshift aisles for the hot chocolate stand. The market was filled to the brim with children running around, racing each other to see who could reach the small grotto first to meet Santa. Calum smiled to himself as he noticed the excitement on their faces, ecstatic to meet the man who supposedly left them gifts every year.

The smell of chocolate became stronger and stronger with every step he took until Calum was finally standing in front of the place he was looking for. The hot chocolate stand.

“Hi Calum,” said the person he least wanted to see at that moment, standing across the wooden counter with a small smile on her lips. Rory.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the odds of meeting her here. “What can I get you?”

“Medium hot chocolate,” he grumbled.

Calum stared at the ground as she prepared his drink, hoping to minimise their interaction as much as possible. She placed his drink on the counter but when he went to grab it, Rory pulled it away from his grasp. “Can I help you?” he muttered in confusion at her antics.

“It’s on the house if we could have a quick chat,” Rory said somewhat hopefully.

Calum pulled out the money that was due from his wallet and placed it upon the counter, pushing it slightly towards her with an unamused expression. “In that case, I’m even more inclined to pay.”

“In that case, I’m not giving you a choice. We’re having a chat,” Rory told him with determination, pushing the five dollar bill back towards him. She told her coworker she was talking her break before leaving from the side of the stall, Calum’s hot chocolate gripped between her fingers.

Calum released a frustrated sigh as he tucked the green note back into his wallet before following behind her. His hands scrunched up into fists as he thought about things he hated. Rory, the fact that he was following Rory like a whipped fool and Michael for indirectly putting him in this situation in the first place.

She sat down at a bench and waited for him to join her before speaking.

“I think I should apologise for whatever happened last night. I don’t actually know what you bloomed but you’re clearly pissed off at me so I wanted to say sorry,” Rory explained, watching as Calum unhooked the leash from Duke’s collar to let the dog run around freely. “I’m sorry.”

Calum took a long sip of his drink and fuck did it taste as good as it smelled. Rory took his silence as a hint that he still didn’t want to talk.

“You were right, you know? I was never validated as a child. Mommy never complimented my drawings. Daddy never came to any of my ballet recitals. But I wasn’t bullied for my bra size, thank you very much. I was bullied for the yellow carnations on my back.” Disappointment. The universe had deemed her a disappointment and Calum was feeling sorry for himself because of the small petunia on his hip. Calum’s angry bloom suddenly didn’t seem so bad. “So yeah, I’ve got an inferiority complex and I’m a bitch. But I’m a bitch that’s sorry.”

“I don’t need your apology,” he mocked, keeping a straight face. “Your words can’t change what happened, they do literally nothing to help me.” Calum held back a teasing smile when he saw Rory roll her eyes playfully from the corner of his.

“Touché,” she commended, tightening her ponytail. “What did you bloom?”

“Why do you work at the Christmas market?”

“I’m volunteering.”

“How selfless of you,” Calum nodded, not quite expecting that response from Rory. Duke ran back towards the bench and hopped onto Calum’s lap, muddy paws dirtying his jeans. “Fucking hell, Duke,” he sighed, placing his drink beside him before lowering Duke onto the ground. He grimaced at the sight of his trousers, hands trying to wipe the dirt off of his jeans.

“He’s a good boy,” Rory remarked with a playful tone, watching Calum hook the leash back onto Duke’s collar.

“The goodest boy,” he affirmed, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He picked up his drink as he stood up, holding it out in the air to draw Rory’s attention to the cup. “So, we’re good? I don’t owe you anything?”

Rory shook her head, tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat as she stood up. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Happy New Year!” greeted Calum as he let the friends of his friends flood into his home, ready to drink into the next year with semi-familiar faces.

Calum was hosting the New Years Eve party this year with his roommate Roy. Over the past three years, Calum and his band mates had taken turns throwing the annual celebration and this time the responsibility had fallen onto his lap. Calum didn’t mind though. New Year’s Eve felt the same wherever he was in the world, and Calum wasn’t one to turn down any excuse to party.

The speakers blasted classics through the decades, bouncing from one hit to the next for hours on end. LEDs lit the apartment in colours ranging from red to green to blue as he bounced to the rhythm of the music with his friends.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” he told Luke who shook his head incredulously at him, lips tilting upwards when his tipsy boyfriend began pressing kisses to his cheek.

“Weren’t you going to quit?” Luke yelled over the music, arms wrapping around Adrian’s neck to pull him closer. And then they were kissing, lost in their own little world before Calum got a chance to reply.

A small part of Calum envied them. He envied the forget-me-nots that covered the skin of Luke’s shoulder blade, matching the ones on Adrian’s hand. He envied the way they held each other softly, lovingly, like the only thing that mattered to them in that moment was the man in their arms. Calum longed to feel that way about someone. He yearned to have what they had.

Roy yelled that there were fifteen seconds left until midnight, turning down the music to let his voice be heard, and soon enough the whole apartment was counting down the remaining seconds. Calum was glad Roy had interrupted his envious thoughts before a jealous hydrangea bloomed on his forehead.

Excitement bubbled in Calum’s chest as he thought of the year ahead, happy that at least he’d be starting it off right; drunk and surrounded by all of his friends.

So much can change in a year.

His eyes met Rory’s across the room as they pronounced the last number and the clock struck twelve. Surrounding couples joined their lips together while the rest of the room erupted into cheers. It was only when Luke and Adrian wrapped their arms around him, excitedly yelling ‘Happy New Year!’, did Calum come out of his daze.

“Happy New Year guys, I love you,” Calum grinned, embracing his two friends back. He playfully rolled his eyes as they mocked his words of affection before going to find his other friends to wish them the same thing.

“You came,” he noted, somewhat surprised when he found Rory up on the roof terrace, leaning on the metallic railing beside her. She gave him a quick nod while she blew out a cloud of smoke.

“Michael invited me. You don’t mind, right?” Calum shook his head, hand reaching out to grab the cigarette she offered him.

“It’s New Years, anyone is welcome here tonight,” he smiled softly before taking a drag. “Happy New Year, by the way.”

“Happy New Year,” Rory repeated as she reclaimed the cigarette, fingers almost brushing against his during the exchange. Almost. “Any resolutions?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” he shrugged, brows furrowing when he heard the music turn off downstairs. “Excuse me,” Calum muttered as he made his way back down to the party.

Everyone appeared annoyed despite their inebriated state, trudging their legs towards the front door. Calum pushed past his guests to reach the front of the crowd, finding a policeman standing menacingly beneath the doorway.

Sounds about right, he thought.

Calum felt helpless as he watched his friends flood out of his home. His neighbours just had to file enough noise complaints to shut his party down, one hour into New Year’s day. They just had to ruin his first glimpse at the new year, tainting the months ahead with a feeling of dread. If the first hour had been bad, Calum didn’t want to know what else was coming his way.

He eventually walked back into his living room, confused when he saw Rory frantically searching for something around the room. Calum leaned against the door frame, watching her with an intrigued expression. “You alright?” Calum questioned, turning on the normal lights to brighten up the place.

“I can’t find my fucking jacket,” she complained as she retraced her steps a third time. “Both my phone and my keys are in there.”

Calum looked around the apartment with Rory for wherever it could’ve been misplaced, the pair of them ending up empty handed.

“I’ll ask around, it should turn up tomorrow if anyone’s got it. Do you have a way to get back home? Or to get in?”

“Uh, yeah, I live around six blocks from here and I’ve got a key tucked into a top secret hiding spot just in case. So, uh, see you next time.”

“I’m walking you home,” Calum stated, already making his way to the hallway where he could grab his coat and keys. Rory chased behind him speaking words of disapproval, telling him over and over that she would be fine on her own, that she didn’t need him to protect her. “You can’t change my mind, Rory,” Calum said pointedly, opening the front door. “I’m walking you home.”

“At least make me a hot chocolate for the road.”

They found themselves in his kitchen a few minutes later, countertops filled with spilt whiskey and empty beer cans. Rory managed to find a clean spot she could hoist herself onto as Calum carefully read the instructions at the back of the packaging. His curls covered his forehead, trying their hardest to reach his eyes but failing.

“Did you forget how to make it, or what?” Rory teased.

“I just want to get it right.”

A warm mug of hot chocolate eventually made its way into Rory’s hands who hummed in delight after the first sip.

“Task completed successfully.”

There was an air of awkwardness surrounding the pair as they walked down the barely lit streets, sodium lampposts painting what little they saw around them yellow. Music could be heard from the windows of apartments nearby and Calum did all but curse their neighbours for not getting their parties shut down as well.

“I think that my New Year resolution is to work out more,” said Calum, answering the question she posed at the rooftop in hopes to interrupt the silence.

“That’s such a shit resolution,” Rory snorted with a soft shake to her head. “It’s up there with quitting chocolate and procrastination. It’s the kind of standard goal that boring people set themselves because they have no true aspirations.” Calum rolled his eyes playfully at her words, kicking the can that was resting in his path.

“What does an interesting person like you choose for their New Years resolution, then? I need inspiration since apparently I’m so boring.”

“Can’t tell you or else it won’t come true,” she shrugged, tone nonchalant.

“It’s not a birthday wish,” he said incredulously, concentrating on not letting Rory kick the metallic can away from him. “Or are you too ashamed to admit that you’re boring too?”

“I guess we’ll never know,” she replied, a mischievous smile on her lips once she finally managed to kick the can onto the parallel road.

Calum was forced to face the adjacent door to Rory’s apartment once they reached it, not allowed to find out where she kept hidden her secret key.

The place was small, though it was also the perfect size for a person living alone. Paintings of flower-covered skin filled every inch of her walls. The colourful petals looked vibrant against drawings of shoulders and ribcages, standing out beautifully against flesh of different tones. Calum took a few fascinated steps closer to study the artwork, astounded by the realism and detail.

“You’re an artist?” Calum asked, turning his head away from the wildflowers on the wall.

“Aspiring artist,” clarified Rory, stepping towards the windows to close the curtains. “I work at a tattoo parlour though, so I still get to produce art in a way. On people, not canvases, but we’ll get there one day.”

“I’m sure you will,” Calum hummed, knowing from experience that if you really want something, it will happen. Or perhaps he was just lucky. “You’re really talented.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, throwing her hair over the chrysanthemums on her shoulder. Calum nodded politely as he took a few steps back towards the open front door. “I think I better get going.”

“Why did you walk me home?”

“What do you mean?” he questioned with a confused demeanour, hand resting on the doorknob.

“You know what I mean,” she insisted calmly, making her way to stand in front of him. Rory was tall, taller than average, and yet she still had to lift her chin up to face Calum. “Why did you walk me home?”

“Why did you let me into your apartment?” Calum challenged with a teasing grin, leaning his arm on the wooden door frame. “I only planned on walking you to the building to make sure you were safe, but you insisted on me making sure I took you to the door. You also asked me to make you a hot chocolate.”

“What are you trying to say?” she spoke almost menacingly, though there was a playful layer wrapped around her voice.

“I think those were all tactics to spend time with me,” he explained cheekily, mischief in his eyes. “You like me.”

“I do not,” Rory huffed, horror painted on her every feature.

“I’m only teasing,” Calum chuckled softly, stepping backwards into the hallway. Rory rolled her eyes at him, clearly unamused. “This was fun,” he admitted, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. “We should do it again sometime.”

“In your dreams, Hood.”

The sun was beginning to rise as he walked the empty streets, occasionally walking past a drunk group of friends that made their way back home after a wild night. Calum felt the familiar tingle on the back of his calf, waiting a few nervous seconds to see the new bloom upon his skin. It was a lotus flower. New beginnings.

Calum’s lips curled into a smile as he looked down at the soft pink petals, excited for what the year had to bring.

taglist: @cashtonasfuck​ @koalacal​ @maluminspace​ @castaway-cashton​ @calumsmermaid​ @punkrockpreferences​ @itsshynotshay​

join my taglist

[gilbertsannegirl]

50 questions you’ve never been asked

I was tagged by @greengableslover (thank you love!! 💛)

What is the colour of your hairbrush? Brown

Name a food you never eat? Any kind of seafood

Are you typically too warm or too cold? Too warm

What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Sleeping

What is your favourite candy bar? I’m guessing this is chocolate right? In Australia we have this thing called a Time-Out and they are the most delicious thing in the world

Have you ever been to a professional sports event? Nope

What is the last thing you said out loud? I can’t remember. I think I said something to my brother before I went to bed last night, like “what’s up” or something

What is your favourite ice cream? Mint chocolate chip or caramel and macadamia

What was the last thing you had to drink? Water

Do you like your wallet? I like it because it’s big and a neutral colour so it matches everything, but the zip is kinda broken on it so I probably should get a new one

What was the last thing you ate? Toasted cheese sandwich

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? No, I bought some online on Tuesday though

The last sporting event you watched? Couldn’t tell you. I watched a bit of the cricket at the start of the year just because it was sometimes on in the background, don’t know if that counts

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn? Butter

Who is the last person you sent a text message to? my friend

Ever go camping? Camping is ingrained into Australian culture, of course I’ve been camping. They made us go hiking and camping for a lot of camps at school and my family used to go at least once a year when I was younger. Personally I don’t really like it because I like being comfortable lol.

Do you take vitamins? I take vitamin c just because it’s in my iron tablets.

Do you go to church every Sunday? Yes

Do you have a tan? No, I get one when I go in the sun but I haven’t left my house lately lol

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Chinese food, has a special place in my heart because I spent the first 4 years of my life living in Beijing so it was all I really ate. (No I do not have any Chinese heritage, my dad is a teacher and he got a job over there)

Do you drink your soda with a straw? Depends, usually no

What colour socks do you usually wear? I have a lot of different socks. At the moment I mostly where my fluffy grey house socks cause it’s cold atm and my feet are always cold

Do you ever drive above the speed limit? No because I’m still on my learners license and if I speed and get caught it will be taken off me

What terrifies you? Loneliness

Look to your left, what do you see? My glass of water

What chore do you hate? Mopping

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? If you can’t tell already, I’m Australian so it’s normal? Haha

What’s your favourite soda? I don’t really like how soft drink makes my stomach feel so I don’t drink it. If I do it’s usually Solo (a lemon soft drink)

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? Depends, I don’t mind sitting in sometimes.

Who’s the last person you talked to? My brother

Favourite cut of beef? I don’t know names of cuts of beef lol. I had to google it but I think my favourite is rib fillet.

Last song you listened to? Hear the Sound by Mayday Parade

Last book you read? The Dry by Jane Harper

Favourite day of the week? Saturday cause it’s the day I currently take off from doing uni work

Can you say the alphabet backwards? Yes

How do you like you coffee? I don’t really drink coffee, but when I do, just with milk, no sugar. So probably a flat white or cappuccino.

Favourite pair of shoes? My white high-top Converse

The time you normally go to bed? 10pm, I know I’m a grandma. Technically I go to bed at 9 and read for an hour.

The time you normally get up? 6-7am, I love mornings.

What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunrise

How many blankets on your bed? Most of the year I only have a sheet on my bed, but when winter hits it’s usually 3 blankets and sheets because I get cold easily.

Describe your kitchen plates. We don’t have a set plate, does that make sense? All of our plates are different. There’s multicoloured ones, white ones with flowers around the edge, plain white, etc.

Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage? Vodka and soft drink or cider. Tbh I haven’t tried that many.

Do you play cards? Yes, all the time. I play various types of solitaire, and with my family we play speed, go fish, rummy, war lords and scumbags, uno, etc.

What colour is your car? I don’t own a car myself. My parents’ car is white.

Can you change a tire? No

Your favourite province? Does this mean city or town or something? I love Brisbane, where I live, but Adelaide is also lovely. I honestly haven’t really been anywhere.

Favourite job you’ve ever had? I’ve only had one job which was a waitress and I hated it because I’m socially anxious and was scared that people were going to yell at me for getting their order wrong or something all the time

How did you get your biggest scar? I’m the clumsiest person, I have two that are probably about the same size. One I got falling out a tree, I scraped my stomach down the trunk and ended up with a huge cut. I fell down sandstone stairs and now I have a huge scar across my shin.

What did you do today that made someone else happy? I started doing this when I woke up 40 mins ago (yes it’s really taken me that long to do this) so I haven’t done anything today

I tag: anyone who wants to do it.

[theamazingdearheart-inactive]

Thanks for tagging me, @incorrectly-quoted-queers !

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?

I have several hairbrushes, and all of them are purple. It wasn’t really intentional, it just kinda happened.

2. A food you never eat?

I really really hate beans, which is bad because in my culture beans are a staple.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?

I have a thing where I easily get cold inside, but I easily get hot when i’m outside. The exact temperature doesn’t matter, as both can fluctuate, but it’s quite strange.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Hmm... probably playing Dragon Age.

5. What is your favorite candy bar?

I’m actually eating a Cadbury bar right now... so anything Cadbury I guess.

6. Have you ever been to a professional sporting event?

I’ve been to several football (soccer) games and once to a boxing tournament.

7. What was the last thing you said out loud?

*sigh* Of course.

8. What is your favorite ice cream?

I’m not a huge ice cream fan, though I do have a soft spot for strawberry.

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?

Homemade iced tea

10. Do you like your wallet?

I don’t really use a wallet- normally I’ll just put my debit card in one pocket and my phone in the other.

11. What was the last thing you ate?

That Cadbury bar

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

Actually, I bought a t-shirt.

13. The last sporting event you watched?

It was so far back I can’t even remember... probably a football game.

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

Plain, or maybe butter.

15. Who was the last person you sent a text message to?

I last texted my friend Enid that I’d seen a weird sign. Something about a property sale with the name Cummings.

16. Ever go camping?

I think I did 7 or 8 years ago with a friend of mine. He kept getting freaked out because he thought he heard wolves.

17. Do you take vitamins?

Thanks for reminding me! I keep forgetting to take B12.

18. Do you go to church every Sunday?

I went to church once for a funeral and once for a wedding, but never to worship.

19. Do you have a tan?

I don’t tan, I burn. Despite my parents being far more on the tan side, I have pasty white skin that just burns.

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

Definitely Chinese. My housemates were talking about ordering some tomorrow, actually.

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?

I don’t drink soda often, but when I do drink Guaraná, I use a reusable straw.

22. What color socks do you usually wear?

Normally either white or gray. Boring, I know.

23. Ever drive above the speed limit?

I can’t drive.

24. What terrifies you?

University. Going to school and making friends in an entirely new environment? Scared the shit out of me.

25. Look to your left what do you see?

I see cars speeding out my window. Also a pocketknife on the windowsill.

26. What chore do you hate?

Handwashing dishes. I hate getting wet (unless I’m taking a shower) and if there’s any leftover food on it, I really don’t want to touch it.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

Kangaroos!

28. What is your favorite soda?

Guaraná, as mentioned before.

29. Do you go into a fast food place or just hit the drive through?

I don’t really do greasy food so... neither?

30. Who was the last person you talked to?

Myself (or I guess my housemates under my breath? Don’t know if it really counts).

31. Favorite cut of beef?

Picanha for sure.

32. Last song you listened to?

Ready to Die by Andrew WK

33. Last book you read?

Probably a D&D book? Idk.

34. Favorite day of the week?

Friday, easy.

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards?

Yep! The last few are pretty easy as a musician.

36. How do you like your coffee?

Black and room temperature, probably -please don’t kill me-

37. Favorite pair of shoes?

I have a pair of beat-up brown boots that I wear almost everywhere. Probably my new vans once they come in.

38. At what time do you usually go to bed?

Normally about 2:00 now, but it used to be about midnight.

39. At what time do you normally get up?

I used to get up about 6:00, often before that, but now it’s between 8:00 or 9:00.

40. What do you prefer - sunrises or sunsets?

Sunrise. One of my favourite memories was staying at my friend’s beach house and staying up to watch the sun.

41. How many blankets are on your bed?

Two, currently, but one is halfway on the floor, so I’m not sure if that counts?

42. Describe your kitchen plates?

I’ve never really thought about this before... right now, I have an old set that were a gift from my friends’ parents.

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?

I don’t normally drink, but I’ve had margaritas before and they’re not half bad.

44. Do you play cards?

I play Hearts and Cantrell draw fairly well, as well as a Brazilian card game.

45. What color is your car?

I don’t have a car (see 23).

46. Can you change a tire?

Never tried, but it can’t be that hard, right?

48. Favorite job you ever had?

I don’t know what my favourite job was, but my least favourite was modelling, for sure.

49. How did you get your biggest scar?

I have a large scar between my thumb and second finger that came from a nail. It’s probably about the size of a US dime.

50. What did you do today that made someone happy?

I haven’t really done much today, but I guess when I talked to one of my housemates about his job? Idk, he seemed a bit more cheery afterwards.

Tagging @ridingrootless, @consultingskeletondetective, @neverwinternighting, @bisexualspaghetti, @19lady-mad81, @renegademe, @tehfanglyfish and anyone else who wants to!

[pynkhues]

do you have advice on how to be more of a critical thinker/ tips on how to analyse shows?? bc i love yours but god i couldnt do it even if you paid me, i've got no skills

Oh gosh, thank you, anon! And I highly doubt you have no skills! All of this stuff is both learnt (I watch a truly shocking amount of movies, haha) and something that I genuinely think comes naturally to us as a species. I think humans like stories. I think we see that in historic - particularly Indigenous - traditions of oral storytelling, I think we see that in fairytales and fables, in modern films and TV - - hell, I even think it with tabloids (like, fuck, I kind of love that glossy magazines can build a story out of a celebrity getting a coffee from Starbucks [Not with her BOYFRIEND?? They’re clearly on the rocks, etc etc etc])

With that in mind, I think really learning how to unpack a story comes down to a pretty simple question.

Why? 

When it comes to storytelling (and life tbh), everything is a choice that somebody has made - whether that be a writing choice, an acting choice, a costume choice, an art department choice. Somebody has sat down and decided that something looks, sounds, feels the way that it does, and they’ll have a reason for it. Stories aren’t made by accident - they’re the result of a lot of work done by a lot of people - so feel empowered to ask that story questions - interrogate it - really ask it why, because somebody’s work and reasoning is generally behind it (and in my experience - those people love that you notice and want to engage with it, even when you have an opinion that might deviate from their intention).

Like - - okay, lets look at an example. 

Beth wears a lot of floral, and her house is decorated with a lot of floral, which means that at least one person has made that choice. Probably a writer, who likely wrote it into a script at some point. Great! Likely though - that writer wrote it into that script, and a costume team and art department / set dressers ran with it and then doubled down on it, so now we have multiple creatives making an active creative choice to decorate Beth and Beth’s life in floral. 

Why would they do that? What do floral prints mean? 

Well, floral is culturally and socially something that is very feminine, and often heavily associated with beauty and motherhood (gosh, just think of any sort of mother’s day card or promotion). Flowers are also something that can represent a blossoming (which I think you could genuinely argue with Beth), and certain flowers represent very specific things - like lilies (innocence), daisies (youth), roses (love) or poppies (death) - none of the latter are relevant in this situation, but you get the gist. 

Beth dresses in a range of floral, which implies they’re going for a broader association with it - unlike, say, American Beauty, which used recurring rose imagery to directly contradict the idea of ‘love’ - which takes us back to the original point - femininity, beauty and motherhood, and they use it to draw a very stark parallel to the life it is that Beth’s actually living. She’s wearing floral when she’s arguing with FBI agents, or as a costume with other mothers. It’s being used to amplify the contrast between what it is she’s doing and the image that she wants to project to the world / arguably the woman that she is. 

What I’m getting at, is that if you notice an image, or an item that’s recurring, just let yourself think about it. 

So let’s try again.

Let’s think about Beth’s bourbon, or Rio’s gun. 

These are two items that the writers keep putting in front of us, which means that they mean something to them, and therefore the characters and the story. 

Why? 

Well, season one establishes that Beth drinks bourbon usually after a long day, when she’s criming with the girls, when she’s just really fucking done. This is reiterated in season two, and then it’s something that Rio learns about her, orders her, and deliberately leaves her when he takes back her money. 

Season one told us that bourbon is what Beth drinks when she’s at her rawest and her most vulnerable. Rio knowing that narratively, is telling us that Rio knows Beth. 

Like I said in an earlier post, Rio’s gun has a lot of weight to it, and is typically accompanied with a shift in narrative tension. So why would that be? Well, the gun is dangerous. It represents Rio at his most dangerous. If it represents Rio at his most dangerous, it means that it generally also represents Rio at his most powerful, so you can infer from that that the gun is symbolic of power, which particularly comes into play when he gives it to Beth in 1.10 and again in 2.13. Rio’s giving Beth power which she gives back to him in 2.01, and seizes and then actually gives to Turner in 2.13 (which is very interesting to me generally, haha). 

So yeah! I guess asking a story why, and paying attention to recurring imagery - both physical and more symbolic, is probably my biggest recommendation of where to start. If you notice an image repeating too, and don’t know what it means, feel empowered to google it too! There’s no shame in that. I’ve done that plenty of times, haha, because we can’t all be across everything after all. ;-)

Otherwise, I’d really suggest listening to podcasts or interviews, and watching things that help to break down stories and creative and story-business process. 

In particular, I really love TheNerdWriter and Lindsay Ellis on YouTube, I also watch/listen to a lot of interviews with writers and directors through things like The Hollywood Reporter roundtables, and podcasts like Australian Screenwriters, Scriptnotes, How Did This Get Made (which is v funny). I’m also going to do a shameless plug here, haha, and say that I have a very-amateur podcast (full disclaimer - our audio quality can be not-great) with a friend too called Lady Parts which is about genre films, but particularly about roles and representations of women in those genre films.

There are also some pretty amazing books out there too. An entry-level one is Film Art (which is unfortunately a bit expensive!) but is an incredible resource full of screencaps and script pages which helps to break down choices and storytelling and imagery, and Wonderbook by Jeff VanderMeer (who wrote Annihilation!) which is more about writing, but is an incredible resource for understanding story generally. 

I hope that’s a helpful start, anon! And if anyone has any other tips, you should leave ‘em in the comments :-)

[tonbanereblogs]

@bardingbeedle tagged me in these 50 questions, WOW. I read theirs while typing out mines and it felt like a conversation, thanks for the entertainment :)

I'm tagging @panna-acida @gay-and-bitter @owmione @veryaveragejoe and @feministcriossant if you guys feel like it :). If not, dw!

WARNING it's long and can't add read more on mobile, sorry

What is the colour of your hairbrush?

I have a wooden one and a plastic grey one :)

Are you typically too warm or too cold?

Too warm but I never notice. It's always someone asking me how can I be in just a t-shirt haha

What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Playing animal crossing while painting (if you play add me pls)

What is your favourite candy bar?

I'm bad at names but I like any bar that has caramel and chocolate.

Have you ever been to a professional sports event?

Yes, both my father and sister have been cyclists!

What is the last thing you said out loud?

Congrats to my dad, who is playing racing games rn.

What is your favourite ice cream?

Coconut ice cream, just had some for dessert!

What was the last thing you had to drink?

My forgotten, cold tea.

Do you like your wallet?

No, it's too thick to carry it in my jean's pockets and I don't like carrying a bag or smth

What was the last thing you ate?

Risotto and coconut ice cream hehe

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

How exactly

The last sporting event you watched?

My cousin's basketball game like ages ago

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn?

I'm.... Disgusted by artificial flavours, I like normal popcorn

Who is the last person you sent a text message to?

Someone in my animal crossing server lmao

Ever go camping?

Once and it wasn't even the full experience. I want to go :(

Do you take vitamins?

Nope

Do you go to church every Sunday?

Every religious relative's communion so like five years ago.

Do you have a tan?

Not atm with being locked up and all that

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

It depends, but I'd choose Chinese because I eat it way less often.

Do you drink your soda with a straw?

I only use my straw when I make strawberry milkshakes :3

What colour socks do you usually wear?

All colours. Right now green with hamburger pattern

Do you ever drive above the speed limit?

I don't even drive :(

What terrifies you?

Watching psychological torture/rape movies. It makes me feel traumatised, like pretending to be normal but shifting, scratching, wanting to throw up... Heh

Look to your left, what do you see?

My grandma's hand sewn drawing (?) Of a cat and puppy cuddling, it says "love will keep us warm"

What chore do you hate?

Making the bed. I move so much at night that it's not even worth it.

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

I think "hm, I don't deserve my C2 English certificate"

What’s your favourite soda?

Lemon flavoured and watered down, because soda has too much sugar for me

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?

I've never used a drive-thru, I think they're not part of my area's culture

Who’s the last person you talked to?

Again? My dad / texted my ac discord

Favourite cut of beef?

I don't know?

Last song you listened to?

KK Bossa from animal crossing (because I'm playing rn) if you mean "real" music, it's *opens Spotify* I don't love you by mcr... What the Fuck when?

Last book you read?

I've been reading about the Cambrian period (first creatures out of the water, my jam)

Favourite day of the week?

In lockdown week days don't exist

Can you say the alphabet backwards?

I can say the notes backwards but it's lame to type it out... I'm gonna anyway

Do re mi fa sol la si do si la sol fa mi re do.

How do you like your coffee?

25% coffee, 25% water and 50% milk, no sugar. Sometimes hot as hell sometimes iced. I'm very serious about the percentages

Favourite pair of shoes?

Some black combat boots that make me 7cm taller and also are ripping apart

The time you normally go to sleep?

Used to be 11 but now it varies, the latest is 2

The time you normally get up?

I used to get up strictly at 7am, but now I'm a bit sad w lockdown and I can't manage to wake up as early

What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?

Lately sunsets come with pretty reds :3

How many blankets on your bed?

One nordic

Describe your kitchen plates

All the same style but two colour variants: black and white.

Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage?

One single sangria per year I'd say

Do you play cards?

Not really. Only if the group forces me

What colour is your car?

My dad's car is black, if it helps. Mine was going to be a seat toledo 2000 but they sold it.

Can you change a tire?

No hehe

Favourite job you’ve ever had?

Illustrating a children's book about taking care of the planet

How did you get your biggest scar?

I fainted in the bathroom, half naked and hit my cheekbone with the bidet? Glorious. At the moment I was in highschool so I told people I fell off my bike

What did you do today that made someone else happy?

Attend a friend's online party. It was v sweet but I was the only guest, that's why I'm guessing I made her happy.

[butternutsims]

Ooooo, I got a bunch of asks for the “hi, I’m not from the US” ask set and the questions and answers are under the cut!

I’m going to answer these in order of questions, thank you to @simvilae, @confusedpasta, @myfawnwy, @renlishsims​ and those sneaky nonnys ;)

Oh and if anyone isn’t sure where I am from, it’s Australia!

4.  favourite dish specific for your country?

This is a clear cut winner, it’s the meat pie, we make it really different from anywhere else in the world. And they are so much better fresh than the frozen ones. Vegemite is second, I don’t eat it on the regular but I don’t mind it.

5.  favourite song in your native language?

I’m gonna be super technical here, I am a native English speaker, however the aboriginal people were here first and they are native to this land, so my fave song from an aboriginal artist is ‘Mr La Di Da’ by Baker Boy which he raps in English and Yolŋu Matha. Super fun song.

Most of my fave music is from Aussie artists also. We have the best music, hands down.

7. three words from your native language that you like the most?

HAHA. ok I’m gonna be stereotypical. G’day (hello), mate (friend.. or not, depending on the mood and how aggressive you’re feeling, you can “mate” angrily) and arvo (afternoon, most people say it without thinking, for example, ‘Let's go down to the shops this arvo’)

Actually a lot of words we shorten and just add an ‘o’ to the end of it, and that’s our slang in a nutshell.

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom?

Yeah, when travelling, it’s either UK, New Zealander or South African. Always.

11. favourite native writer/poet?

ooooooo, good one! Mem Fox is probably the one that sticks out in my mind, her kids books are just amazing, mostly based around Australian native animals, but she wrote a book a few years ago called ‘I’m Australian Too’, which explains how different cultures are part of Australia to kids!

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders?

Superstitions I can’t think of any, all the ones I can think of are Italian because part of my family immigrated from there. Traditions.. maybe grabbing a Bunnings sausage every time you go there because they are the best? 

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV?

Our most famous Australian shows are Home & Away and Neighbours.. so the answer is no, most of it is trash. Some movies are okay.

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get?

G’DAY MATE, HOW ABOUT I CHUCK ANOTHER SHRIMP ON THE BAAAAAAAARRRRRRBIE!!!

If you say this in the mirror 3 times on Australia Day, the ghost of Paul Hogan is said to appear behind you... Oh wait, that’s a superstition I guess!?

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?

I hate when people have asked me if I ride a kangaroo around. I try telling them it’s only when my car is at the mechanics but they still think it’s my main mode of transportation.

The thing about the deadly animals.. all true.

17. are you interested in your country’s history?

Yeah! We learn about it all in school, at least the English side of it, and to a point the Aboriginal side. I find the Aboriginal history much more rich and important to learn about.

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language? .

My English is okie dokie. I would love to learn some Aboriginal. I am also very horrible at languages, it was never my strong suit.

22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed?

Oooof... this is a tough question.

We are super resilient people, we don’t give up, we go out and do something about it. And we are not silent.

What I hate are the people that are the opposite of this. They point their fingers and take advantage of situations, or they are silent and let things just happen. These are for the most part Boomers and politicians

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country?

BEER. 

Not Fosters!! We actually don’t drink Fosters here.. ever. Fosters is an exported beer from here for everyone else to enjoy. 

We make good craft beers, and good wines too!

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country?

For me personally, I was born here for a reason so there’s no changing that.

HOWEVER, I am part Canadian, I am a dual citizen so my heart belongs there too and that would be my other choice of place to be born. But I am first and foremost an Australian. 

[drtanstravels]

We recently stayed in Tel Aviv, Israel for four days so Anna could attend a teaching seminar for the International Retinal Panel. During our stay we would take a tour of Jerusalem, travel along the West Bank while venturing into Palestine, visit the ancient village of Masada, and then float and get all muddy in the Dead Sea. All of the main events happened in the final two days of the trip so this will just be a relatively short post in comparison, covering the initial two days of our journey, both spent in Tel Aviv.

Friday, November 1, 2019 We had left Singapore at 11:30pm the previous night, took an 11.5-hour flight to Turkey, had a 90-minute layover in Istanbul Airport, and then took another two-hour flight to Tel Aviv. When we were in Seoul, South Korea recently we got chatting to some friends of mine who had traveled to Israel in the past and the nightmares they had faced going through immigration once they had reached Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv. One of them even told us about how he got cavity-searched, so we were both prepared for the worst. Once we were off the plane and inside the airport I cringed a bit when the first security guard snapped on a pair of disposable gloves, but it turned out to be just for him to search through our hand luggage. After that the line at the passport counter was taking forever, but it turned out that the reason the queue was taking so long to move was because we just had a really talkative guy checking our passports and when he first saw my Australian document, he looked up, gave me a curious look, and asked, “Do you watch Home and Away?” I smiled and mentioned that my sister used to have it on every night back in the day and that was it. We had to ask for entry border crossing cards, a separate slip of paper to be put into our passports instead of a stamp, because having an Israeli passport stamp can cause quite a bit of trouble when traveling overseas. There are currently eight countries that won’t accept passports containing Israeli visas, the most notable one being Saudi Arabia, a country to which we may need to travel one day. There are also quite a few countries whose passport holders are forbidden entrance to Israel without official confirmation from the Israeli government, Malaysia being on that list, so one of Anna’s colleagues was unable to attend. In fact, if Anna hadn’t taken Singaporean citizenship after we got married, this journey would never have happened.

As has been a pattern over recent trips, we arrived in Tel Aviv early in the morning, well before our hotel room was available so we dumped our bags with the concierge and decided to have a look around town. We were staying at the Crowne Plaza, which had an attached shopping mall so that was our first stop, mainly for a much-needed coffee and a couple of pastries, and then we discovered that there was a park and shopping district nearby called Sarona, a place with an interesting history:

Sarona was a German Templer colony established in Ottoman Palestine in 1871. Sarona is now a neighbourhood of Tel Aviv, Israel. It was one of the earliest modern villages established by Europeans in Ottoman Palestine. In July 1941, the British Mandate authorities deported 188 residents of Sarona, who were considered hard-core Nazi sympathisers. By the 2000s, the area had fallen into disrepair and was a haven for drug addicts. However, since 2003, the area has undergone massive renovation, which involved moving and relocating historical buildings before their restoration. The area is now a popular shopping district, as well as housing museums, cultural artefacts centring on its history, and IDF complexes.

Walking around Sarona was really cool with its mix of shops, bars, and cafes, as well as the Sarona Market. When Anna was purchasing a ring in one of the stores she asked for some recommendations in the area and the first one immediately given was Anita, a boutique ice-cream store. We initially thought this was a one-off, but we ended up finding incredible ice-cream shops all over the city. Anyway, we ordered a cup with two flavours, Pavlova & Mix Berries and Salted Pretzel, before we continued walking around, visiting among other shops a handmade dreidel store called Draydel House, a place with some unique takes on the spinning tops, and then it was on to Sarona Market. The market had some great looking food and there were plenty of free samples, but as you will find out over the course of this post and the next, it wasn’t an accurate representation of kosher food. We walked around sampling different cheeses, pickles, and halva, possibly the driest substance on earth. Seriously, dust is more mouth-watering than halva. Another thing that Israel is known for is pomegranate juice, generally used for detoxing, so we ordered a large one each, a decision we would later deeply regret and one that would also put the pair of us off pomegranates for the foreseeable future, despite how nice it tasted. Once we were done with the market and walking around the gardens in Sarona, we were able to check into our room at the Crowne Plaza at around 2:00pm and take a nap for a bit. Our day up until that point (besides the awesome pickle store in the market that wouldn’t let me take photos):

Anna near the entrance of Sarona

The way Sarona is set up is really cool

Looking down a row of stores

A map of Sarona in Hebrew

Anna’s dreidel

The dreidel Anna would probably get for me

Some of the ice-cream flavours available at Anita

A few more

They also had a custom soft-serve yoghurt bar

Anna about to buy ours

Our sweet and salty combination was definitely a good mix

Halva inside the market

One of the food stall rows

There is a huge variety available in this market

Unfortunately, not all Israeli food is as good as this looks

Anna in the garden

Now in our room

After sleeping for a bit we caught a cab to the waterfront, which is split into two parts; Alma Beach, a modern seaside area, and the Old City area of Jaffa. Most modern beach areas are similar, whereas ancient cities are always fascinating so Jaffa was the obvious choice to spend some time exploring first. It would be nigh on impossible to summarise the history of a 3,800-year-old port city in the Middle East, but here’s the general background:

Jaffa, in Hebrew Yafo and also called Japho or Joppa, the southern and oldest part of Tel Aviv–Yafo, is an ancient port city in Israel. Jaffa is famous for its association with the biblical stories of Jonah, Solomon and Saint Peter as well as the mythological story of Andromeda and Perseus, and later for its oranges. The city as such was established at the latest around 1800 BCE.

Modern Jaffa has a heterogeneous population of Jews, Christians, and Muslims. Jaffa currently has 46,000 residents, of whom 30,000 are Jews and 16,000 are Arabs. The 2010 film Port of Memory explores these themes. Tabeetha School in Jaffa was founded in 1863. It is owned by the Church of Scotland. The school provides education in English to children from Christian, Jewish and Muslim backgrounds.

Our taxi driver was an elderly man who kept explaining to us along the way that Tel Aviv was a party city, that around 69% of people there were aged between 30-40, and that we’d be among the older people out that night. I wasn’t expecting that, but another thing we weren’t expecting was the fact that the sun sets in Tel Aviv before 5:00pm, it’s almost as if the city is in the entirely wrong timezone and is something that would throw our body clocks off for the duration of this trip. When it had been dark there for a few hours, you’d be led to think it was getting kind of late when in reality it was only about eight o’clock in the evening. So, despite the fact that we arrived at Jaffa at 4:30pm, the sun was already setting, but this just made the place that much more beautiful. We spent the evening wandering through the narrow streets and laneways of Jaffa, taking in all of the ancient buildings, towers, and structures, plus the major landmarks in the area such as Jaffa Lighthouse, Clock Square, and the coastal canons, all while the sun set over the ocean.

After all of that walking we were beginning to get hungry and the waterside restaurants at Alma Beach were supposed to be pretty decent so we chose one called Manta Ray for dinner where we sat outdoors with some drinks and feasted on some selections from their great meze platter, as well as a grilled fish. We were to meet the organisers and other attendees of Anna’s course at 9:30pm after everyone had arrived in town, but it was barely 7:30pm by the time we finished dinner so we found a nearby shisha bar for a few more drinks and a pipe. After a while we both began to bloat up, neither of us could stop farting, and I was burping constantly, feeling the need to vomit. It was too soon after dinner to be from the fish or the meze dishes we chose, I had already checked that the water was safe to drink so that wasn’t it, coffee, pastries, and ice-cream don’t have this effect on me, and nothing else we had tried had been a large enough sample to make us sick. Except for the pomegranate juice, that is. We had drunk about a litre (33.8 fl. oz.) each several hours ago and it now seemed like we were paying for it, however, we couldn’t be 100% certain. Whatever it was, we both wanted to go back to the hotel and let it all out, resulting in me violently throwing up for a few minutes once inside, but then we felt reasonably fine as soon as we were both empty.

We met up with Anna’s course-mates in the lobby of our hotel and we walked down to a pub in another nearby part of town where everyone chatted over some beers, while those who hadn’t eaten had dinner. It was a really fun night and Anna decided to ask one of the local organisers, Tamir, if it could’ve been the pomegranate juice that bloated us. He said it’s good for you, most people just take a small glass and share it. When she told him that we’d had a litre each he was gobsmacked. “That’s not detox, that’s just tox!” was the response. Here are a whole bunch of photos from around Jaffa that evening, plus a couple of our dinner and the shisha bar before we bloated up like a couple of non-embalmed corpses:

Hashan Square

Anna and and I on the peninsula

Part of Jaffa from a distance

Looking over the ocean

People washing their hands

One of the coastal canons, imported by the Ottoman government in the 18th century to protect Jaffa from Bedouin raids

Overlooking a mosque

You can even find cool bars in towns dating back to the bronze age

Walking down a wide thoroughfare

The sun setting over the ocean

A museum surrounded by shops

Walking down an avenue

Anna posing in an alley

One of many interesting sculptures in Jaffa

The view of Clock Square from a very narrow stairway

We were both wondering if this was the Jewish equivalent of leaving your tie on the door handle so your roommate knows you have a girl inside

Etzel House

Dinner is served

We chose a few dishes from this platter

Baked blue bream with Jerusalem artichokes

Smoking a shisha while we both rapidly expand

Saturday, November 2, 2019 Anna was going to her course so I was free to do my own thing for the bulk of the day, but there was one small problem — Saturday is the sabbath, also known as Shabbat in Judaism, and this would severely limit what I was able to do due to many actions being classed as melakhah and thus being prohibited on this day of rest or historically punishable by death! Here’s a better description of melakhah:

Jewish law (halakha) prohibits doing any form of melakhah (מְלָאכָה, plural melakhoth) on Shabbat, unless an urgent human or medical need is life-threatening. Though melakhah is commonly translated as “work” in English, a better definition is “deliberate activity” or “skill and craftmanship”. There are 39 categories of prohibited activities (melakhoth) listed in Mishnah Tractate Shabbat 7:2.

Some acts forbidden on Shabbat include:

Threshing/Extraction Definition: Removal of an undesirable outer from a desirable inner.

Dissection Definition: Reducing an earth-borne thing’s size for a productive purpose.

Kneading/Amalgamation Definition: Combining particles into a semi-solid or solid mass via liquid.

Cooking/Baking Definition for solids: Changing the properties of something via heat. Definition for liquids: Bringing a liquid’s temperature to the heat threshold. This threshold is known as yad soledet (lit. “A hand reflexively recoils [due to such heat]”). According to Igrot Moshe this temperature is 43 °C (110 °F).

Extinguishing a Fire Definition: Extinguishing a fire/flame, or diminishing its intensity.

Ignition: Definition: Igniting, fuelling or spreading a fire/flame.

Transferring Between Domains Definition: Transferring something from one domain type to another domain type, or transferring within a public thoroughfare.

Now, some of you reading this are probably thinking, “Why would you care, you’re not Jewish.” This is true, however, despite me seeing fewer Orthodox Jews in Israel than I did on any given day in New York City, prohibition of melakhah on Shabbat is enforced by law, although not to an extreme. Although no shops would be open, these restrictions would severely limit my food purchasing options. Because it had been powered down for Shabbat, I pushed my way through the revolving door to exit the hotel and hit the street. I was quite hungry due to the fact that I had vomited everything I had eaten the previous evening so I figured I might get lucky finding somewhere open to eat at Sarona. I saw a cafe with people all around it so that’s where I went and I ordered the egg white omelette on the menu, which came with some bread and a side salad. I guess the hotplate must’ve been kept burning from the previous day and eggs aren’t really a solid or liquid so changing their properties via heat would be fine. Salad was also okay because the form of the lettuce doesn’t change, only the size, and it was cut quite large so it wasn’t done to make it into a more usable, productive state. The bread had obviously been made the previous day and when it came to dissection of the food in order to eat, that was all on me, not the cafe. Juice wasn’t an option due to threshing/extraction, but it was when I ordered a latte that things got weird. The waiter told me that he could only offer me a “very weak coffee” which was the result of the water and milk only being heated to about 40°C in keeping with the law, a temperature that also isn’t really hot enough for the coffee to properly infuse the water, thus making it not very strong. It actually turned out to be infinitely easier to get a beer anywhere in town that morning than coffee. My order at the cafe was able to be brought from the kitchen to my table, and also to diners who were seated outside, without transferring between domains due to the installation of an eruv, described as:

An urban area enclosed by a wire boundary which symbolically extends the private domain of Jewish households into public areas, permitting activities within it that are normally forbidden in public on the Sabbath.

Although the Jewish community must strictly adhere to laws of prohibition on Shabbat, going to the effort of building eruvs and heating liquids to a slightly cooler temperature than normal seem like ways of pranking an almighty deity who is easily fooled by the loopholes in the rules he wrote. Then I remembered this scene from the documentary Religulous:

After eating I decided to have a look around the beach area, making my way there via the main shopping district en route, but obviously everything was closed except for bars, restaurants, and cafes and wouldn’t be opening again until late in the evening or within the next few days. I was also having trouble getting cash out of an ATM again and this time I wasn’t sure whether the machines weren’t accepting my card or were just unable to function in general. I arrived at the beach and it was quite nice with a bunch more seaside bars and restaurants, as well as plenty of entertainment, some of which was unintentionally funny. There was Israeli folk dancing that happens at Gordon Beach every Saturday, as well as a big outdoor gym area where meatheads could work out like in Venice Beach, California, all just grunting, flexing, and slapping butts. Instead, I walked out along the pier to a lighthouse, just taking in the sights. It was a nice walk, but I could feel myself getting sunburnt so I went back to a shaded area along the shore to sit down with a bunch of senior citizens for a bit and that’s where I got the biggest laugh of the day. There were three guys working out there, one was absolutely ripped and doing chin-ups and some other impressive feats on horizontal bars directly in front of us, another was doing push ups, all the while giving the third guy tips on capoeira moves. If you are unaware of what capoeira is, it’s a Brazilian martial art that combines acrobatics, dancing, and complex moves involving hand plants, kicks, and flips (that link is a video that will give you a decent idea). The only problem was that the guy trying to do it wasn’t particularly good at capoeira so I found myself sitting there with a bunch of confused older people who were innocently trying to figure out why a muscly dude was doing cartwheels in the sand in front of several other muscly guys. It was a hot day, a dry heat compared to the insane humidity of Singapore, but I had no cash for a drink so I had a sip out of the drinking fountain where people also washed the sand off their feet, and walked for forty minutes back to the hotel, passing a cheese shop that you could smell before you could see, despite it being closed, along the way. Once back I killed two birds with one stone, grabbing a bottle of sparkling water from the minibar and making an instant coffee in the room, which turned into mud when I added water, but it still gave me the caffeine fix I had been lacking. I also managed to get cash out of an ATM next our hotel and Anna was still going to be a while so I planted myself in a bar back in Sarona for a few hours until she was done.

My kosher Shabbat breakfast with very weak coffee

Walking into town

At the beach

Looking down the boardwalk and across the road

Some huts near the ocean

Now walking down the promenade

Was Banksy in town?

More art, this time honouring the older community

Israeli folk-dancing

Beanbags on the beach

One of many cafes along the promenade

Coming over a little cloudy

That’s better

Waves crashing along the pier

A lighthouse at the end

I’m still trying to figure out if this building had caught fire or was just art-deco

The cheese shop on the way home. I wish it was open

The bottom of my instant mud coffee

Anna was soon back from her teaching and we had a dinner that night with everyone else involved in the course. This meant taking a minibus with the International Retinal Panel crew back to a restaurant at the beach, Anna’s first venture into that area of Tel Aviv, so we had a look around the boardwalk and took a few photos first. It was nice to hang out with everyone while we were feeling 100%, they were really cool people and an interesting mix of nationalities, some local, others coming from Columbia, Italy, India, France, Argentina, China, and a multitude of other other countries. The restaurant we went to looked good, but the entire group, myself included, consisted of about 30 people, taking up two massive tables, and the platters we received, two per table, were to be shared. The problem with this system was that Anna, myself, and a few others were tucked away in a corner on the back table and our food and drinks kept failing to appear. Everyone else received a meze platter except us, we waited about 20 minutes and then had to ask for it, as well as remind the staff that we had also ordered drinks. When it finally arrived, the other areas of both tables were receiving a grilled fish that looked delicious, but when we finished our platter the fish never arrived, nor did the second drink I ordered. We asked about the fish and when it finally came ours was just what seemed like fish offcuts including several heads, all of which was deep-fried to the point that it was so crunchy it was pretty much inedible. We didn’t bother eating much of it, that second beer never came, and everyone that was there for the course had homework to do so we got back in the bus, the interior blue light making my Rick and Morty “Pickle Rick” shirt appear as if it were covered in turds, and we went back to the hotel, them to do group work and me to have a couple of drinks at the hotel bar until it closed.

Anna’s first stroll along this area of the beach

The boardwalk at night

All of the people involved in Anna’s course

A merry-go-round

Some of the food has arrived, but it also looks like others are asking for stuff that hasn’t

If our fish were pork, it would’ve been the parts that go into a sausage roll

Definitely looks like faeces

Tel Aviv is such a cool city and nothing like we expected, yet a completely hidden gem when it comes to traveling, but this was just the beginning! Stay tuned for the next instalment when we do all the cool stuff you would expect one to do while in Israel that in no way would fit into this post, like visiting Jerusalem and floating in the Dead Sea.

The first two days of our four-night trip to Israel We recently stayed in Tel Aviv, Israel for four days so Anna could attend a teaching seminar for the International Retinal Panel.

[itssmithlove]

I've eaten it before when not too strong

I've eaten it before when not too strong and not gotten sick, but I usually just dump it and take the receipt back to get my money returned.. The questions are fair: These residents of Broadway Place saw their lives changed on the merits of being in the right place at the right time.. He should not have Kalmring half of their shared assets.. Police at the time said charges would not be filed against the woman who allegedly stabbed Allgood, because it was in self defense. Don't be shy and feel free to say hello if you see her around! You may see her running outside (when it's above 30 degrees), drinking coffee somewhere, enjoying the sunshine when it's out, or trying something new to eat. University of Houston is the leading institution. Vets felt they were meeting with limited success because vets and farmers may be emphasising different framings of biosecurity. Where is the NZ voice in this? Is our water supply so infinite that ONE bottling plant can take 70 million litres every day? It is winter and we already have a water shortage. The way to build loyalty is to employ the data you collect in a coherent way. And Vielva, P. These plans outline what to do when someone with T1 has low blood glucose (hypo) or high blood glucose (hyper), when to test their blood glucose and how to support the child to do PE at school. (If you fulfilled the requirement to drink four cups of wine, best to drink a cup of water on the way to bed.) You're going to need it. Haywood's hiring by athletic director Steve Pederson was greeted unenthusiastically by fans, boosters, alumni and students who questioned why a school with annual Top 25 aspirations hired him away from mid major Miami (Ohio). I saw many Australians and other foreigners skiing and snowboarding. After obtaining his British citizenship, Johnson won a bronze medal with the Great Britain national team at the 2009 Division 1 World Championships. After returning to the car, she "suddenly turned back to us, [and] she had a gun." As she trained the gun on him, Richardson tied his hands behind his back and forced him out of the car. Mergansers, five per day with no more than two hooded merganser. In the present work, a thermodynamically based constitutive model is proposed to capture the rate sensitivity, the stress relaxation and the accelerated cyclic softening observed during cyclic deformation of a P91 steel at an elevated temperature (600C). Less than 100 notes of a single bill denomination should be strapped and marked with the unit count and dollar amount. And despite that unwieldy title (the pilot episode was called The Secret Life of 4 Year Olds, but for the series the age range was extended because children make huge leaps in understanding and awareness between four and six) the result is appointment television. There may be an element of coincidence in all this, but, I think, in a more profound sense, we have the coming together, or the beginning of the coming together, of a number of social and cultural processes. But Wade stopped short of admitting his side had turned a corner after declaring they weren't good enough to win the competition four weeks ago. Mutombo does make up for Ratliff's absence though. While we occasionally listen in on chat groups, coach outlet clearance or look at the posting in our discussion coach outlet online groups or on our bulletin boards, we take no responsibility and assume no liability for the content of those locations or for any mistakes, defamation, libel, slander, omissions, falsehoods, obscenity, pornography, or profanity you might encounter when you visit such places on our site. When I lived in the Midwest I found the people to be the most difficult to understand. I hope we get to see him again in a major fight soon, because he earned better than to lose a tough fight and that disappear while Oba Carr suddenly becomes popular.. And the sauce a little tangier than I remembered. Just pitch execution and trusting your gut and trusting your instincts and trusting your catcher and executing the pitch. "Every time we've done a beach clean and this is our seventh time we collect more rubbish," he said. The fibre from the leaf stalks of abac is both strong and fine, in fact just what you want for tea bags and other specialised paper products such as filter paper and banknotes.. Instead, he removed the body to a farm in Fremont County, where it was kept for a time in a black tote bag in a stack of hay while he went to Thanksgiving dinner, Slater testified.. Detweiler and Winston were recently fired as basketball coaches at Phoenixville Area High School.. 2, the iconic Donald Ross course in the Carolina Sandhills. You can find quizzes with quirky facts, science and nature, or entertainment. Family and friends held a vigil Saturday for a barber killed in a shooting in Hawthorne as the search continued for his attacker, who also shot and wounded another person. And time is of the essence, since tsunami waves travel at speeds of up to 800kmh, depending on the depth of the water.. The Knights dominated the first half, opening the scoring through Tyler Harrison in the sixth minute, adding a second from Nick Naden and only denied more by the agility of Olympic keeper Jarrod Hill. The Post has previously documented claims from six people in addition to the five arrested in Australia who alleged that while Pastukhov was an editor at Vice he offered them money to carry suitcases to Australia.