#and the real Billy is even described as having a quick temper

[francixoxoxo]

have been on one imagining how an argument with Billy would go (what it would be about, how he'd react, etc)

Omg im gonna be honest I think abt angry Billy all the time

It would probably be abt something involving the regulators, maybe you want him to get out of the whole situation alltogether and he just can’t do that. You’re yelling that you two need to get out before it gets any uglier than it already is, find someplace where nobody knows his name, but he insists that “there ain’t a place in the damn country that don’t, and I can’t leave anyway.” He feels just such a strong moral obligation to Tunstall and the whole cause :(

It started with him just speaking firmly but he forgets himself, raising his voice with nostrils flaring and even letting a few curses slip to you. And it takes him a bit to simmer down but once he finally does he’s the first to apologize, either tugging you into his chest that night or coming home from work the next day with a bouquet of flowers and mumbling, “I ain’t mean it, baby. M’sorry. Shoulda known better than t’yell atcha.” :((

[hvlloweens-a]

𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 …

meet the cast of 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 : 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗 ! 

first of all, thank you ALL so much for applying ! i was not expecting this much interest ! when i closed my submit, i had 25 apps which is ... completely insane ?? all of the positive messages and feedback i received made me ridiculously happy and i’m so grateful for all of you who sent little check-ins or congratulated me on the app count . i wish i could have accepted everyone ( every single app was amazing .. none of you made this easy ) and i even accepted a few more than i originally intended. if you didn’t get accepted in this first batch, i’ll be hanging onto your app and you’ll be hearing from me if a spot opens up ! for those accepted, server links will be going out later -- i can’t wait to meet and write with all of you and your muses < 3 

( vika bronova , cis woman, she/her ) congratulations to sidney evanko – they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty three year old sagittarius that can be described as maverick and sybaritic . before the show, they worked as a cocktail waitress and lived in las vegas, nevada . based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as ghosting someone after they’ve sufficiently stroked your ego , cerulean hues that can effortlessly unlock any social situation you want to ease into ( or out of … ), finding odd flecks of glitter on your skin, your clothing, your hair, scattered inside your luggage – all serving as a reminder of life back home that you were eager to leave behind . sidney said they auditioned for the show because she wants to be an actress in the future … we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by jamie, she/they, 24, est.

( aaron liebregts , cis man , he / him ) congratulations to oliver brooks – they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty - two year old sagittarius that can be described as confident and impulsive . before the show, they worked as a musician and lived in laval , quebec . based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as posting intentional thirst traps on tik tok with the caption ‘ making fun of people that actually do this lol ‘ , relaxing in a recliner with a bottle of fireball in one hand and an unlit joint in the other while listing off fun facts about otters as if he is your grandfather telling you stories about the war , and confusing your sex handcuffs and the handcuffs you stole from the campus police . brooks said they auditioned for the show because his record label told him it would be good for publicity … we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by anna , she/her , 26 , cst .

( genellle seldon , cis woman , she / her  ) congratulations to jourdan womack– they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty four year old taurus that can be described as opinionated and brash . before the show, they worked as a freelance columnist for a women’s magazine and lived in medina , washington . based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as leaving the glossy print of your lips at the rim of a bottle , the base of a neck , smeared across a pillowcase that isn’t your own as a form of temporary ownership , visible g - strings and wrap - around shield sunglasses inside following a french martini hazed evening , and your mother’s innate wandering eye paired with her poor perception of love — entirely transactional . jourdan said they auditioned for the show because the dating pool in her home town had been dwindled to scraps … we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by candice , she / her , 22 , cst.

( galanikolic , cis woman , she/her ) congratulations to thandie jovic – they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty -four year old pisces that can be described as vivacious and quixotic . before the show, they worked as a owner of a small clothing brand and lived in brooklyn, new york . based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as organized chaos in the name of ‘what will be, will be’, memories encapsulated in polaroid form, haphazardly glued into a keepsake journal, and sharing stories with strangers in the club toilets . thandie said they auditioned for the show because her horoscope said she was ready for a new adventure … we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by kat , she/her , 22, gmt .

( delilah belle , cis female, she/her ) congratulations to rhys moreau – they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty three year old pisces that can be described as humble and naive . before the show, they worked as a nursing student and lived in carolina beach . based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as getting a little too drunk off just two cosmopolitans, hand-me-down designer purses, pink lipstick on the edge of starbucks cups sort of vibe . rhys said they auditioned for the show because she grew up watching the show with her sister and it’s always been a dream of hers … we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by skye, she/her, 21+, est. 

( cindy kimberly, cis woman, she/her ) congratulations to aspen lestari -- they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty-three year old taurus that can be described as excitable and fanciful . before the show, they worked as a vlogger/artist and lived in seattle, washington. based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as five am drives to catch the sunset, fingers always supporting dried up paint, old video games. aspen said they auditioned for the show because it was a chance to get her out of her comfort zone and be less of her shy nature... we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by jules, she/her, 24, est.

( aron piper , cis male , he + him ) congratulations to armani banks – they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty three year old virgo that can be described as lyrical and aloof . before the show, they worked as an aspiring singer/songwriter + producer and lived in manhattan , new york . based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as always chasing the next best thing , scraps of song lyrics scattered across a lone mattress in an empty loft & enjoying the chase but being unsatisfied with the catch . armani said they auditioned for the show because it could possibly boost his career … we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by f, she+her, 21, est.

( omar ayuso , non binary, he/they ) congratulations to damian price – they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty-two year old capricorn that can be described as driven and catty . before the show, they worked as a beauty pageant coach and lived in atlantic city, nj . based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as bruised knuckles covered with concealer, paris hilton’s ‘stars are blind’ blasting on repeat, and eyebrows that are so big because they’re full of secrets . damian said they auditioned for the show because he was born to be a star … we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by abby, she/her, 25, est.

( pedro ortega , cis male, he/him) congratulations to lucas monteiro – they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty six year old leo that can be described as trustworthy and quick-tempered . before the show, they worked as a professional football player and lived in atlanta , georgia . based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as encouraging pep talks during timeouts , waves of emotions pushed back with alcohol , never truly being satisfied with your accomplishments . lucas said they auditioned for the show because he was kicked out of his team after engaging in a fight after a game and he wants people to see that's not who he is … we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by barbie, she/her, 24, gmt-3.

( caio cabral , cis male, he/him ) congratulations to gustavo vidal – they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty-three year old aquarius that can be described as vigorous and aloof . before the show, they worked as a professional skater and lived in california . based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as grains of sand in worn out vans sneakers, freckles covered sun burnt wide shoulders & trying over and over again until you reach perfection, no matter how it hurts . gustavo said they auditioned for the show because he wants to be known as more than just an athlete who's probably past his glory days … we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by ron, she/her, 25, gmt -3.

( alisha boe , cis woman, she/her ) congratulations to gemma westrum – they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty four year old sagittarius that can be described as captivating and egocentric. before the show, they worked as an influencer and lived in calabasas, california  . based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as checking their reflection in every window & mirror you pass — no matter how late it makes you, rambling until someone finally tells you to shut up, having more “friends” than you can count, yet somehow you’re always still alone . gem said they auditioned for the show because she was bored … we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by ali, she/her, 23, ctrl

(  ryan destiny, cis woman, she/her ) congratulations to wilhelmina 'billie' ashford – they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty three year old cancer that can be described as charismatic and heedless . before the show, they worked as a dancer/cheerleader and lived in los angeles, california . based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as glossy lips paired with a sharp grin, the lingering smell of fresh lavender, hushed conversations and prolonged eye contact, unpredictable bouts of mischief making. billie said they auditioned for the show to spite her parents and make a name for herself outside of their shadow … we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by asha, she/her, 24, est.

( cameron valentina , cis woman, she/her ) congratulations to kaia cary – they’ve been cast on this season of the real world ! they’re currently a twenty two year old capricorn that can be described as detail oriented and aloof . before the show, they worked as a private figure skating instructor and lived in petoskey , michigan. based on their audition tape, i’d describe them as champagne and glitter stained pages of a moleskin overflowing with long-term aspirations slashed through in bright red , old figure skating dresses oozing from the sides of a poorly packed cardboard box , and a wilted floral arrangement drooling dried petals onto a vanity that hadn’t been touched since the incident . kaia said they auditioned for the show because she had been struggling to start a normal life following a career-ending injury … we’ll see how it works out for them when the show airs ! written by jess, she/her, 23, pst.

[neoneversleeps]

bad guy | j.jh

pairing: jaehyun x reader - bad guy

genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings: cheating, swearing, semi-public sex, fingering, oral (female recieving)

description: 

The damn leather jacket that hangs over your desk chair is what compels you to finally come face to ace with the man whose heart you broke months ago. The outcome of the encouter however, is not what you had expected in the least. 

(this fic is kind of a twist on bad guy by billie eilish)

words: ~5k

playlist ⟡

You feel the blood trickle down your nose before you even feel the impact. It takes a few seconds to actually register that you’ve just been punched in the face. Slaps were a common occurrence but actually being punched? Now that was a new one. You had to hand it to her, she had a mean right hook.

A chuckle escapes your mouth as your hand wipes off the blood on your nose. You could hear the murmurs of shocked onlookers around you. The girl seems even more infuriated after you chuckle, face contorted in anger as she opens her mouth to scream at you.

"You slut! Making out with my boyfriend for everyone to see?

You simply roll your eyes at her. This wasn't the first time you had heard those words. You hadn't really ran any background checks on the long list of hookups you had these past couple months. You couldn't bring yourself to care much, either.

"Who do you think you are, going around kissing other girls boyfriends?"

You cock your head at her, slightly narrowing your eyes.

"Shouldn't you be asking your boyfriend why he's going around kissing girls that aren't his girlfriend?"

She pauses, suddenly at a loss for words. A few seconds later she stomps her foot, not unlike a toddler during a temper tantrum, huffs indignantly and storms off, boyfriend in tow, tail between his legs.

You decide to head to the nearest bathroom, behind the club, to inspect the damage. You catch some stares as you round the corner, the people there clearly finding your bloodstained appearance more interesting than whatever else they were talking about before. You didn't shy away from any of the glances, choosing instead to sneer back at them, which made them turn their heads away without a fault.

You near the outdoor bathroom, a small rectangular construction with only one meek bathroom stall and a poor excuse for a mirror. Closing the door behind you, you lean forward on the sink and inspect your nose. It could look worse for wear, nothing broken at least. The bad lighting and smudged mirror didn't exactly let you see the full damage, but there was no cracking and no continuous pain so that was a positive. You figure it must be just a few burst blood vessels. You splash some water on your face, cleaning off the already drying blood. You look back up at your reflection. The shirt was ruined though. Bummer, you didn’t own a lot of white shirts that you liked and unfortunately, you did actually like this one.

Slightly sighing in frustration, you leave the stall to go hail a cab, ready to head home for the night.

The door of your small city apartment clicks shut as you enter. You flick on the lights and glance around. The place was in disarray to no surprise. Every time you claimed you’d tidy the whole thing up, something more important always seemed to come up. Truthfully, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You glance at the clock as you stroll into your kitchen. 2:39am. Perfect time for some plain old buttered toast. You hadn’t drank much, the alcohol levels in your blood probably close to zero at this point. Your stomach, however, was growling in demand for food. So you get to work, taking two slices of bread out of the freezer and placing them in your hand-me-down toaster.

After finishing your honourable 3am meal, you slowly shuffle past your bedroom door and into the adjacent bathroom. You discard your clothes, making a mental note to throw the bloodied shirt away instead of just throwing it in with the wash.

As you step under the shower, the warmth of the water envelops you. None of your neighbors in the apartment complex showered at this hour, so it was always a guarantee for hot water. You stand in the stream for a while, letting your muscles relax and letting the water wash aways all your sins, worries and fears. Of course the water couldn't actually wash those away, but you liked to believe it could linder them. Make them disappear even for a little while.

The bathroom floor tiles are cold against your feet after you finally decide you'd soaked up enough water for the night (morning, technically). You dried off your body, wrapping the towel around your figure before wrapping another one around your hair. You made use of the few skincare products you had for your nightly (again, more accurately morning) routine.

You pad out into your bedroom, removing the towel from your hair and trying to dry said hair with it as best you could. Your eyes flick to the jacket hanging on your desk chair in the corner of your still dark room, illuminated only by the path of light coming from the open bathroom door. It was an old dark brown leather jacket, surely worth a lot when first bought. The years of use have worn it at its edges but it still shines pristinely, leather well kept.

A face flashes before your eyes. The owner of that very jacket. Jung Jaehyun. The one boy who had managed to get a little too close for comfort. The thought of him leaves a bitter taste of hurt and regret in your mouth. A twinge of guilt twists your insides as well.

You had been meaning to give the jacket back to him, tired of it being a constant reminder of your past relationship. You had been saying that for months now though, yet you never got around to actually get it back to him. Coward. the voice in your head helpfully provides the real reasoning behind not returning the jacket. You would one day. In fact you would go tomorrow. Today? Ok, realistically that wouldn't happen. You settled for the coming week. The coming week  you would return Jung Jaehyun’s jacket.

Content with your decision, you change into your pyjamas and slip into bed, the clock on the nightstand reading 4am.

It’s a wednesday afternoon two weeks after the bloody nose incident that you finally walk down the street where the garage that Jaehyun works at is located. Ok so maybe you didn't quite adhere to the deadline you set for yourself, but you were here now, right?

You were slowly approaching Jaehyun’s workplace. The buzzing sounds  of various machinery filtering in through your ears. The garage always had its doors open, probably willing more wind to enter the hot work space. The afternoon sun stands proud in its place, rays casting a golden light onto the city and pleasantly warming its citizens. Even though you appreciate the balmy caress of the sunlight on your skin, you imagine being stuck working on a car in this heat would be most uncomfortable. Jaehyun never seemed to mind however, you couldn't remember him ever complaining about his job. He was good at what he did, although he did always talk about rising up in the ranks. He didn't want to work at a garage for the rest of his life, and you couldn't blame him. You were sure he would achieve his goals however. If there was one word you would use to describe Jaehyun, it was determined.

Your eyes search the area as you arrive in front of the garage. There’s a nervous feeling in your gut the longer your eyes search, the jacket in your backpack seemingly getting heavier by the second. Maybe you shouldn't have come.

You’re about to turn on your heel but before you can do so, your eyes catch sight of a brown tuft of hair behind the car on the far end. You would recognize that soft brown hair anywhere.

Your feet stroll over to the car furthest away from you. A red 1966 shelby. Nice model, a vintage mustang, the apparently freshly redone paint-job glistening in the afternoon sun. Now, you wouldn't consider yourself a cars connoisseur by any means, but your granddad had taught you to have an eye for value.

“Beautiful car.” You say, your fingers lightly hovering above the shiny red paint, careful not to touch. The man behind the car gets up with a chuckle. “Yeah, well, she's not mine-.” A pause. “Oh, hey, y/n. What brings you here?” The tone of his voice is casual, but obviously forced. It stings just a bit. He stands there just as you remembered him. His well-built frame stands tall, defined muscles visible in the black tank top he was wearing, honey brown fringe damp from the sweat falling just below his eyebrows. His hair had grown a little since you last saw him.

“Oh, you know. Just passing through this area and thought I might stop by. Maybe looking to buy some car air fresheners.” His face tilts, eyes narrowingly only a millimeter. “Uh huh. You don't own a car though?”

Shit. “Right well… it's for a friend. Her car always smells musty.” You recovered rather well in your defense, able to play it off with a chuckle.

“Um, okay. Is that really all? Because if yes I should get back to work before-” “No!” Okay, that was way too quick, you mentally reprimand yourself. Clearing your throat, you continue.

“No, actually, that's not all. I was wondering… if maybe you would like to go get a drink sometime?” What!? What the hell was that? You were supposed to give him his leather jacket back, not ask him out.

Even Jaehyun looks surprised at your question. His hands fly up to his hair, running them through it a couple of times, a habit you had seen countless times before. “Well I, um-” “Jaehyun!” You heard the rather shrill voice of a girl coming from your right. Soon enough the girl that had called his name was now plastered to his side, hands curling around his arm.

“Who’s this, Jaehyun?” The fake tone to her voice is so obvious you want to roll your eyes.

“Oh uh, Y/n is an old...friend of mine. Y/n, this is my girlfriend Nina.” She sticks her hand out and you take it, albeit begrudgingly, while forcing a smile. “It's nice to meet you.” The blonde smiles back, face scrunching up just a little too much to be considered genuine.

“Likewise.” She quips before directing a pout at Jaehyun. “Hyunnie, you promised you’d get off work early to go to that one restaurant I was telling you about.” Hyunnie? You internally shiver in disgust at the pet name. Jaehyun's eyes, which were previously staring at yours, suddenly flit over to Nina’s face.

“Oh yeah, of course. I’ll go get ready and be out in a sec. Why don’t you go wait in the car?” He smiles at her, dimples showing prominently in his cheeks. You hadn't seen those in a while. “Ok!” She says chirpily, leaning up slightly to peck him on the mouth. Suddenly the pit of your stomach boils with anger. Why were you angry? You surely weren’t jealous, were you? No, Y/n. You broke up with him, remember? You ended things.

She turns in your direction, blonde hair swishing around in her high ponytail. “Bye, Y/n!” The lilt in her voice almost made you want to gag but you force out a smile instead and bid her a goodbye as well.

“She’s nice.” Jaehyun almost snorts. Apparently you hadn’t managed to keep the slight disgust out of your voice as well as you had hoped.“She is. I like her.” He says the words as he looks at you. It almost feels like he’s trying to gauge your reaction. You simply nod and give him a tight-lipped smile at first, your hands digging themselves into the pockets of your denim jacket.

“Well, she’s your girlfriend. Isn’t it kind of a given that you like her?” You state more than asks, although you do feel slightly confused now that you thought back on his words. Jaehyun just shrugs nonchalantly.

“Anyways, you heard her.” He jerks his head towards, presumably, the direction of his car. “I'm heading out now.” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, as if considering his options. “About that drink, text me and we can agree on a day. Just as friends though, right?”

It was your turn to be surprised now. You hadn't expected him to actually accept, especially after his girlfriend had interrupted the two of you. It takes you a few stunned seconds before you can respond. “Um, yeah of course. Just as friends.” You scan over his face, curious if you could make out any hidden emotions, but all you can see is Jaehyun’s pleasant smile.

You start to walk backwards, suddenly itching to get out of the now slightly tense and awkward atmosphere. You feel his eyes trail after you. “I’ll text you then. Bye, Jaehyun.” You turn fully after your goodbye, still feeling the burn of his gaze on your back.

“Bye, Y/n.”

You walk home that day in the afternoon sun, a weird feeling brewing deep in your stomach and Jaehyun’s leather jacket still safely stored inside your bag.

You watch the droplets of condensation slowly slide down the side of your glass, thumbs drawing idle circles on the table. Jaehyun should be arriving any minute now. The thought of him makes tiny balls of sweat form at the base of your neck. You’re nervous. Just like the day you went to see him at the garage, you were starting to regret ever texting him in the first place. Thinking that maybe you should've just ignored his acceptance of your invite.

You had tried to, really. But Jaehyun’s name on the message app on your phone had tempted you one too many times. You had caved a few nights prior, asking to meet at a relatively well-known bar in the city and now here you were, sitting alone at a table, leg bouncing in anticipation.

You heave a sigh and take up your phone. Just as you decide to distract yourself with some mindless game, you hear the scrape of a wooden chair from across you.

Jaehyun gives you a smile as he sits down in front of you, prominent dimples poking out. “Sorry I’m late. Got caught up in traffic. Have you been waiting long?”

You shake your head. “No worries, I only just got here about five minutes ago.” Liar. You had been waiting for over half an hour. Jaehyun glances at your glass and raises an eyebrow. “They must have fast service then.”

You don't let the nervous churn of your stomach get to you as you respond. “For a pretty girl sitting alone in a bar? The service is always fast.” You let a small smirk adorn your lips and Jaehyun chuckles at the statement. “Fair enough.”

After a quick glance at his phone screen, Jaehyun directs his attention back at you, leaning on his forearms. “So, how’ve you been?”

You lean back a bit, unconsciously (or more likely consciously) putting space between you and Jaehyun. “Oh you know, going to work, reading up on the news, getting into brawls outside of clubs, the usual.” Jaehyun laughs at what he assumes was a joke. You bite your cheek as a smile finds its way onto your face as well. If only he knew.

It’s ridiculous really, how easy you could fall into conversation with Jaehyun. It feels natural. However in your mind there’s a voice constantly reminding you that this was just what you had come to fear all those months ago. What you had with jaehyun, you had considered it a fling, even though it had felt like a relationship more than you cared to admit.

Your parents failed marriage and the many failed attempts at love on your own part had made you quite opposed to the idea of a relationship. The last time you had been with someone for longer than two weeks had been Jaehyun. You were adamant about keeping feelings out of the mix as best you could, but Jaehyun was a dangerous man. He had found a way to weasel himself into your heart and as soon as you had realised, you shut him out completely.

You wonder why jaehyun was sat in front of you at that moment, an easy smile on his face. When you think back to the night you “broke up”, you recall being rather horrible to him. The hurt expression on Jaehyuns face resurfaces in your mind and you push it down, choosing instead to focus on the conversation.

You laugh genuinely at Jaehyun’s crazy work story and watch how he leans back, the smile on his face making his eyes crinkle up. He was still gazing at you after you finished your little fit of laughter. “What?” You ask, a shy grin pulling at your lips under his gaze.

“I missed your laugh.” You don't fail to notice the way his eyes trace over your face and down over your body, lingering at the curvature of your breasts in your low-cut tee. You shift slightly in your chair and his eyes flick back up to meet yours. You both stare at each other, as if daring the other to back down.  You can feel Jaehyun's leg brushing against yours under the table.

Oh, you think, Jaehyun was a dangerous man indeed.

The bathroom wall is cold against your bare ass as Jaehyun slips your jeans further down your legs. You were unsure of how you got here, your memory going hazy after the little staring contest you had earlier. He’s kissing you feverishly, lips travelling up and down the sides of your neck as you claw at his t-shirt covered back. You audibly gasp as you feel his fingers rub at your clit through your panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” You whimper as he grunts in your ear. You had slept and made out with countless people over the past months and yet none of them could make you feel even a fraction of pleasure compared to what you felt whenever Jaehyun touched you.

His mouth trails down further along your body, roughly pushing your t-shirt and bra out of the way to latch onto your nipple, his free hand coming up to play with your other one. Your head falls back against the wall as he grazes your sensitive bud with his teeth, loving the mix of pain and pleasure.

Jaehyun’s hands grab hold of the back of your upper thighs as his face hovers above your heat. He looked up at you through his lashes and you grabbed a fistful of his hair as you urge him on, the ache between your legs nearing unbearable.

A jolt of pleasure shoots up your body as you feel Jaehyun's tongue lick up your slit before pushing his tongue inside of your folds. His hands still work at your clit in small circles, applying just the right amount of pressure to the bud. You bite your lip as you try to hold back the moans that were threatening to spill, this was still a public restroom after all.

“Fuck, Jae.” You curse as he inserts two fingers into your entrance, moving to suck and kiss at your clit. You could perfectly picture his satisfied smile as he hums against your core, once again sending vibrations throughout your body. Gosh, how you had missed this.  

As Jaehyun picks up his speed, you feel the knot in your stomach twist tighter, the gasps leaving your mouth becoming higher in pitch. After a few more pumps you feel your walls contract around Jaehyun’s fingers and pure bliss overcomes you, your body going limp, almost sliding down the wall if it weren’t for Jaehyun coming up to support your weight.

“Shit, I missed this so much. I missed you so much.” Jaehyun mumbles in your ear as he turns your body. Now you stand facing the large bathroom mirrors, hips slightly digging into the border of the sink and panties still halfway down your thigh. You stare at your reflection. You look fucked out, hair and clothes in disarray, with a flurry of small marks beginning to form on your neck and Jaehyun slowly kissing down your shoulders. Looking at yourself was like a slap in the face. This was wrong, oh this was all so wrong. You broke up with Jaehyun. Jaehyun had a girlfriend.  You were fucking Jaehyun in the bathroom of the bar where you had asked to meet up as friends. Friends.

Shit. Panic floods your body and you know you need to get out. Out. Out. Out. You turn around and promptly push Jaehyun off you, nearly making him topple over in the process.

“We can’t do this! You- I - We- we just can’t!” You make quick of pulling your underwear and jeans, grabbing the purse you had previously discarded and rushing out of the room, Jaehyun still struggling to keep up with the sudden turn of events.

“Y/n!”

You hear his shouts coming from behind you but you don’t stop. Making your way through the tables, you desperately try to smooth down your hair so you wouldn’t look as disheveled. You push open the main door and the cold air of the night hits you as you step out on the streets. A shiver runs down your spine. All of this was wrong.

And all of it was your fault.

It was currently around 8pm and you’re sat on the couch in your apartment, the stark light of the tv screen casting shadows around your dark room. You mindlessly flick through the channels, not really finding anything worth watching. Your eyes keep on wandering towards your phone. All week you had been avoiding Jaehyun as if he were the pest. You Ignored both his calls and his texts. There was a twinge in your gut.

None of this was Jaehyun's fault. You had given him false hope of a relationship and broke it off. You had ignored him for months after. You had asked him out. You had made him cheat on his girlfriend. You were the one that had played with him as if he were some toy.

He cheated on his girlfriend because of you. Granted, you had slept with guys who were in relationships over the past few months, but that was different. You didn't know prior if they were in a relationship or not, they were just a hookup.

But this time, you had actually seen the girlfriend. Talked to her, touched her. And while yes, you had not liked her in the slightest, that didn't justify your actions. You were a cheater.

Just like your dad. Thanks brain, for that helpful reminder. You sigh in frustration at yourself. Maybe you should just go to bed.

You get up and switch off the TV, but just as you are about to head to your room, you hear a knock on the door.

You freeze, unsure of what to do. A few seconds later, the knocks are repeated. Deciding to just see who it is and not stand around in your living room like an idiot, you make your way over to the door.

“I broke up with Nina.”

These are the first words that leave Jaehyun’s mouth, as he stands on your doorstep. You don’t know what to respond in all honesty. Jaehyun worries his lips between his teeth. “Can I come in, please?”

You nod in your stunned silence and step to the side to let Jaehyun through, letting the door click shut behind him. There’s a pause, you don't know what to say and it seems like he doesn't either.

After what feels like an eternity spent in silence, Jaehyun finally turns to face you. “Ok, I’m gonna say something now and… before you say anything in response, please hear me out.” There’s an unsure fluttering in your chest, your heartbeat speeds up as your hands begin sweating slightly. The situation makes you anxious but after a deep breath, you nod at Jaehyun, signaling to him that he could continue.

“I know that what we had a few months back was intended to be nothing but a fling to you. I may not have known it at the time, correction, I had no idea it wasn’t serious for you at the time. We had been together for three months by then. I believed your lies, I’ll even go so far as to admit  you fooled me.” He chuckles in attempt to lighten the blow, but its bitter and it makes the guilt in your stomach rise up to your throat like bile.

“I don’t think it was directly your intention to hurt me though. You probably wanted something fleeting, a temporary boyfriend to get your insisting friends off your back. But you fell in love.” You cross your arms defensively on your chest, an innate response to Jaehyun’s accusing statement.

He sighs and pauses for a moment. “You can lie to yourself all you want, Y/n. I know you were in love. I know it because I felt it too. And you realized... and you got scared.” You feel stubborn tears prick at your eyes and turn your gaze towards the now very intriguing pattern of your carpet floor.

“Now maybe this isn’t my place to say but.... but I feel like it is. I know why you’re scared of the possibility of loving someone, of loving me, but this whole agenda you have of pushing away anything that might make you happy is ridiculous.” You can hear the anger in his voice and it pushes you to do something you know you shouldn’t.  

“You say that if you know anything about me!” You yell at him and his expression is taken aback for a second before the furrow between his brows reappears.

“Oh, I don’t know anything about you? Will you stop pretending that our relationship, which by the way, was an actual relationship, didn’t happen? Just for one second, can you acknowledge the fact that we had hour long conversations, that we actually shared our feelings? That you’ve told me about the crap you went through.”

Your breathing has become labored. You want to disagree so badly, want to argue that he knows nothing, that he’s wrong. But he wasn’t, and you sure as hell knew it. “Fine!” You scream. “Fine! Okay! I admit it. We did have a relationship! It was real! I did-” You inhale a shake breath, your voice not as strong when you continue. “I do love you and it scares me.” Tears are flowing down your face freely and you don’t hold back, you can’t, not anymore. “I’m so scared because I love you… so much. I love you more than anyone. These past few months, I- I’ve tried e- everything to get my mind off you but I can’t- I can’t and I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry I mess shit up and make you confused and make you cheat-” “Hey, hey, hey” Jaehyun cuts you off as he crosses the space between you, his warm hands cupping both sides of your face. “First of all, the cheating part… we both take blame for that. And the confusion thing, well, it’s true, you did confuse me…a lot but it’s okay because you love me and I love you... and I forgive you.”

You shake your head fiercely and try to pull his hands from your face. “Don’t you get it, Jaehyun? I’m no good for you. I’m… I’m the bad guy.” jaehyun chuckles softly as he rests his forehead against yours, little puffs of his warm breath hitting your face. “You’re not the bad guy, Y/n. You deserve happiness. Will you let me give you that happiness?”

You breathe out deeply through your nose and close your eyes, feeling the anger and frustration at yourself slowly seep out of your body. Jaehyu’s touch relaxes yu and as you open your eyes to look at him, he smiles and leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s a short kiss, sweet and caring and delicate. The kiss is followed by another and another, until they get longer, more heated, more passionate.

Jaehyun’s calloused hands travel around your body with ease. He softly pushes you against the wall and presses his body flush to yours. His kisses trail all over your face, your neck and al the way down to your collarbone. It isn’t long before he hoists you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his middle . Everything feels natural, easy. You let yourself relax fully and fall into his touch. You let him carry you to your bedroom and push you down onto mattress, let his kisses wander further south until your squirming under his hold. You let your sounds of passion echo through your room until late into the night and finally, finally allow yourself to actually feel something.

You’re done holding back from love. You could finally admit what you were repressing for so long.

You love Jung Jaehyun.

You trace the small crack in the wall next to your bed in the dark. It was well past midnight, and yet you’re wide awake. You feel Jaehyun’s arm safely secured around your waist, the warmth of his body behind you seeps into your very soul. The room aroundyou is quiet save for the few times a car outside passes by and the shallow breathing of the man pressed up against you. Some time ago, you would have found that Jaehyun’s arm around your waist felt like a cage, something that weighed you down and tugged at your heart uncomfortable. Now, however, you find comfort in the way his skin feels on yours, the way you can faintly feel his heartbeat against your back. You feel safe.

Your eyes fall to the corner of your room, where the brown leather jacket still lay folded over a chair. You smile to yourself.

You would give it back, eventually.

[lligkv]

the smartest person who doesn’t do anything

Alison Rose, the daughter of a psychiatrist and a wealthy housewife, was hired as a receptionist at the New Yorker in her 40s—her first “real” job—and ended up writing “Talk of the Town” columns in the 1990s, striking friendships with writers like Renata Adler, Harold Brodkey, and George W. S. Trow along the way. Reading her memoir, Better than Sane, it’s clear it took Rose a long time to really achieve something, to grow beyond what she calls the “ancient feelings of freakishness” that her childhood left her with.

Her father is authoritarian and volatile. He mocks his patients and his family; he’s constantly on the verge of losing his temper with his wife and daughters. He calls them all scathing names. His wife and oldest daughter, Alison’s sister, are Babs I and Babs II, and Alison herself is Babs III, or “Personality Minus,” since she’s so quiet. Alison’s mother is glamorous and removed. She seems to treat Alison’s father as a fact of the world, one she can only accept, as she goes on to do what she likes—for instance, having children with him though he doesn’t really want them. She speaks up for her daughters sometimes, but the protests are fairly mild, in the way they might be when you’ve come to accept that the world is as it is, detaching yourself from it enough to remain sanguine.

Rose, as the product of a glamorous, abusive, inscrutable sort of childhood, is a master of the weird swerves that come from idiosyncrasy. Early in the book, she’s talking about her childhood friend “Squirrel.” “Before Squirrel’s arrival,” she tells us, “I had three mops as best friends.” “My first love, though,” she adds, “had been my pencil collection,” each member of which she names and comes to treasure. She loves the pencils because they are reliable, faithful, quiet: all the things she’s missing. And when her mother sharpens them—whether it’s by mistake or on purpose, Rose doesn’t say—it’s genuinely affecting:

Their faces were obliterated and unrecognizable. Some of them were a lot shorter, too. It was as if everyone I knew had a different head and face on a now stunted body. I couldn’t look at them anymore, all distorted like that, so I abandoned them. In the years that followed, I would see one of the pencils around the house, by a telephone, vaguely recognizable, but dead.

I came to like Alison for her humility along her halting path to some sort of accomplishment, some sort of wholeness. You could look down on her for looking up to so many famous writers, like Trow and Harold Brodkey, but her childhood left her so deeply pressed into timidity that her attachments to these magnetic figures she’s somehow become so close to is touching. Even Alison’s attachment to a youthful paramour, Billy the Fish, is touching.

Billy is Burt Lancaster’s son, whom Alison dates while she’s living in West Hollywood in the 70s, trying to become an actress. He’s a cool character, with his ironic attitude, his charisma, his “certain air of separateness”—Rose calls him “the Fish” because “it was as if he lived in its own element… [a fish] who came up for other people’s air, curious, but not very often”—and his boredom with the whole world at just twenty-two. “T’s to my E’s,” he says—short for Tears to my eyes—when he’s given a gift; “Cringe,” he says, aloud, when he feels like cringing; the people who love him, he seldom treats well. It would be easy to roll your eyes at him and wonder why Alison stays with him for seven years, on tenterhooks and speed much of the while, if her love for him weren’t so clear and so honest. “My heart liked him,” she says, simply. And the closest she ever got in life to what she calls “normal pie”—“this thing men and women get married about”—was with him.

“All of us,” Rose writes—the people who knew Billy in LA—“loved him, but he couldn’t feel it, I don’t think,” and she isn’t the type to blame him for that; she knows too well what not being able to feel love feels like. She forms deep attachments to charismatic people, the way you do when you’re raised to doubt yourself—and she’s not afraid to talk admiringly about the people who shaped her, those who challenge her notion from childhood that she’s “unsuited for human connection.” And I like that a hell of a lot more than the alternative: saying nothing or being shaped by no one.

What’s more, her self-doubt is belied by the wit she so often demonstrates. For instance, her retort to Brodkey as he calls lovingly out to her in the New Yorker’s hallway:

“My Bride,” Harold calls to me in the corridor.

“My Conscience,” I answer.

Or to Trow as he teases her when Brodkey isn’t around:

“Since Harold’s gone, why not throw a little attention my way?” George asked me that same week.

“I thought you might find it repellent,” I said.

“Not as long as you keep coming up with those snappy answers.”

In still another, more sober moment, Brodkey is trying to convince Alison to find someone other than George to bring to dinner with him and his wife. A real interest. “But Harold,” she says,

“I don’t have an appropriate suitor. You know that.”

“Not a suitor. No one likes you all that much.”

“Maybe that’s true,” I said.

Shit!

He tried to be comforting. “But nobody likes anybody all that much—it’s just moments, you know that.” After a pause, he added, “I’m the one who likes you that much, but if you get to know me better your life will be considerably shorter. Hang up now or I’ll start to cry.”

Seeing moment after moment of such quick wit from Rose, and pure honesty—such willingness to say what’s true and such refusal to sugarcoat—you see why Trow, Brodkey, and Penelope Gilliatt, another writer who often stops by Alison’s desk, like her so much. And why they seem to believe she has talent even when she does not. Anytime Rose says something Trow particularly understands, he tells her: “Darling: Write that down.”

The college-degreed writers in the office call the New Yorker “the magazine”; Alison, out of place as a Californian with no college education or work experience of any kind, calls it “School.” And the name is apt for deeper reasons than the one Alison gives, which is that she gets to write “notes to boys” like Brodkey and Trow. It’s an education. And it’s a second shot at a real life, with people who take pleasure in her mind.

“For nearly four decades,” Rose writes, she struggled with “enemy thinking”:

people deciding that the way I saw things was punishable by exile. Enemy-thinking people seem to have a ceaseless, brutal, active desire to punish; perhaps it made them feel superior and powerful. The writers at this School, who in their context were superior and powerful, were a divine present to me—their ease, which created a freedom from worrying about enemy thinking. The destruction it had done to me so far, like my conviction that I just plain didn’t belong in the world, was gone, or it felt like it.

The narrative rolls on. Alison, whose job performance is always a little erratic, is let go from her receptionist position; Trow—who tells her, in a memorable moment, that she cannot keep being “the smartest person who doesn’t do anything forever”—becomes determined to get her another place at School as a “Talk of the Town” writer; she gets the position and stays there for a while, until she leaves. Better than Sane is a force-of-personality book, and most of the things that happen in it go only elliptically explained.

But there is one narrative driver. The trauma that keeps Alison adrift can’t be gone until she confronts the people who instilled enemy thinking in her in the first place.

In the final chapters, Rose describes returning to her mother’s house in Atherton for her mother’s 90th birthday. Alison’s father drops out of the narrative after its first few chapters, but her mother has recurred throughout, often as a provoking presence in Alison’s life. And at the party, so close to her again, Alison’s character regresses. She becomes very clingy with her dog Puppy Jane, clutching Jane to her so she doesn’t have to be spoken to about anything but the dog. She behaves in alienating ways because she fears being alienated, on-the-outs with her mother and sister; better to fit their perception of her as the “crazy” one.

The crisis doesn’t resolve until Alison and her sister Belinda track down their old housekeeper Nita, now living in neighboring Richmond, to ask her about their childhood. In the conversation they have, Alison’s father returns and again comes to seem like the real enemy: “He was cruel,” Nita says firmly. “Very cruel.” “There was one person,” she tells Alison, “who wasn’t nice to you. Your father. He was real mean and your mother was so nice.”

Is what Nita says true? It’s hard to be sure. It’s certainly plausible, but Alison’s mother is a little too distant and arch for you to get a clear bead on her character, and as you hear her comment on the family’s drama, it’s clear Nita herself sees the family at some distance (which is healthy, for a housekeeper). But it is true that the person who terrifies you, as Alison’s father terrified her and her mother, is a force of nature. You don’t talk about him; you certainly don’t talk to him. Instead, you treat him as a fact of the world. You might harm yourself (or your children) as a result. Or you leave, and you push the person who terrifies you into the past. And usually the damage is still done. The anger that is permitted is the anger you feel toward the ones who are nice to you, at least sometimes, who seem as though they could be convinced and reasoned with and moved to act on your behalf yet refuse to respond to reason or persuasion or pleading or need. At the same time, terror of her father, and her mother’s seeming implacability, leave Alison timid, unable to express any of that anger or feel confidence in herself. So she wanders for years, not doing anything. And it takes Nita telling Alison, “Alis’, it was a crazy house. That’s all” for Alison to realize she can let it all go.

These final chapters—in which Alison, having finally accomplished something with her life, and having been recognized and loved by the writers at School, goes home and learns the truth, that it was her family that was crazy and not her, and is redeemed—do feel a little pat. But Better than Sane was published in 2004, and maybe that was before we all became cynical about the memoir form from seeing the familiar arc (a normal or painful childhood, an experience of crisis and failure, a fall to the depths, an opening to others, a redemption, a happy ending) play out so many times. Or maybe the end feels that much more predictable because the path Alison’s taken to get there has been so unpredictable.

The book did leave me wondering where Rose is now. Better than Sane is her only book. There are quite a few literary Alison Roses out there, but none seem to be her. There really is something “regal” about Rose, as Stacy Schiff put it in her New York Times review of the book—something deeply affecting about her honesty, the plainness of her feeling beneath the elliptical prose, the humility with which she presents herself. If she never writes again that I know of, it’d be a shame.

[theglobalpolitician]

In 1968 the esteemed Australian anthropologist Bill Stanner coined the term “the great Australian silence” to describe a “cult of forgetfulness” that had seen Aboriginal people virtually ignored in the writing of Australian history. The Australian Dictionary of Biography had published its first two volumes by then, and the indifference that Stanner observed was already apparent in its choice of biographical subjects.

The architects of the dictionary had envisaged a great national co-operative venture with autonomous working parties in each state whose members would choose “significant and representative” subjects, a “cross-section of Australian society”. In succinct articles, these lives would collectively illustrate the Australian national story.

Volumes One and Two of the dictionary were published in 1966 and ’67. Of their 1,182 subjects, only eight were Aboriginal. The early colonial years were portrayed as overwhelmingly the domain of powerful white males.

Bennelong, Arabanoo, Colebe and Bungaree, each of them figures from the Port Jackson area, earned their places in the dictionary largely for being there and being noticed. Similarly, in Volume Two, Yagan, the Swan River Noongar man, was remarkable simply for being a mostly troublesome presence at the nascent Western Australian colony. Jackey Jackey, Whylie and Yuranigh were there for their activities as guides with inland expeditions.

By 1981 and with eight volumes published, only seven more Aboriginal entries had been added to the 4,589 in the dictionary corpus. By then an irresistible change in the way Australian history was being conceived and written was under way. This movement was coming not only from within the academies, but from a new generation of  Aboriginal writers, such as Kevin Gilbert and Oodgeroo Noonucal. The great Australian silence was slowly unravelling.

In 2017, 210 of nearly 13,000 biographical entries in the dictionary are Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander men and women. A working party  made up of  Aboriginal and Islander scholars from each state and territory is now preparing an Indigenous Australian Dictionary of Biography with nearly 200 new biographies.

Dr Shino Konishi, a Yawuru descendant of the Broome area, is leading the collaborative project. Because this is a largely community-driven process, it is likely that new markers of “significance” will emerge, determined perhaps not so much by success or standing on national, state or local stages, as by what they brought to community and family life.

Sovereignty never ceded

Who might be in the new volume? Biographical subjects will be selected  after public consultation, but a number of possible contenders have remarkable stories.

Most Sydneysiders  associate Barangaroo with the massive harbourside development rather than the Eora woman behind the name. Aggressively independent and the wife of Bennelong, unlike her husband she rejected the overtures of Governor Phillip, asserting the independence of her people to continue to fish the harbour and to live as a sovereign people.

Another Eora woman, Patyegarang, became at a young age the main informant for William Dawes, the first European to sympathetically chronicle the language and culture of the Sydney landowners. Her life, and her relationship with Dawes, inspired a fine production in 2014 of the Bangarra Dance Company.

And what of Nangar Jimmy Clements, a Wiradjari man otherwise known as “King Billy” who, with a companion John Noble, walked for three days from Tumut to attend the opening of Parliament House in Canberra in 1927? He attracted the support of the crowd, after the police tried to move him on, to salute the Duke of York, one leader to another, who returned his greeting with a “special wave”. Like Barangaroo, Clements’s determination to attend the ceremony demonstrates a sovereignty never ceded.

More recently, perhaps Alf Stafford, a Kamilaroi/Darug man, will find a place in the dictionary. After serving in the armed forces and playing first-grade cricket in Sydney, he was employed as a Commonwealth driver in Canberra, driving  11 prime ministers from Lyons to Whitlam.

He became particularly close to Sir Robert Menzies and, after the death of his wife, in effect became Menzies’s personal assistant, taking up residence with his children at The Lodge.

Refashioning cardboard cut-outs

And what of the old entries, those written over 50 years ago, which still inhabit the pages of the dictionary? However they might have been viewed at the time of publication, the biographical portraits of Bennelong, Arabanoo and Yagan fail to provide even a glimpse of Aboriginal life in the early years of European colonisation. Thus Arabanoo, who was forcibly detained by handcuff at the settlement so that he might help Phillip “learn more about the natives”, is far more than the tragic figure who died of smallpox just one year after the arrival of the First Fleet.

Over 20 years after her publication of The Timeless Land, in which an imagined Bennelong featured as the central character, Eleanor Dark might have seemed an inspired choice to write about him and his countryman Arabanoo for the dictionary’s first volume in 1966.

But Dark’s skill as an imaginative novelist has not translated well to the short biographical genre. Indeed, in her hands, the two men are cardboard cut-outs of their real-life figures. Bennelong is portrayed as “courageous, intelligent, vain, quick-tempered, tender with children” and “something of a comedian”. Arabanoo is “a general favourite”, with a “thoughtful face and a soft, musical voice”.

New research and new ways of reading the same texts that Dark used have started to bring Bennelong and Arabanoo to life as members of their communities and families, who faced conflicts and made choices and compromises. There will be new entries on these and perhaps the other 18th and 19th-century Aboriginal people in the dictionary. The aim will be to reveal them as complex figures, as members of their communities in the process of making sense of, negotiating and surviving an increasingly intrusive European presence.

One of the benefits of the digital realm lies in its capacity to illustrate change, to demonstrate not only how society has evolved, but the way this change has been recorded. So readers will still be able to read Dark’s take on Bennelong and Arabanoo, or see how Alexandra Hasluck recorded the life of Yagan, by clicking through to the still extant, but soon to be submerged, old entries.

That way the dictionary will remain true to its mission of telling the story of the nation through the lives of its people, but will also demonstrate that the way we understand those lives has grown and developed.