#black label bike club

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

never not mine | jjk | "... the whispers..."

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game. This confrontation is long overdue and is either going to end in handcuffs or tangled limbs.

part i | this is part ii | part iii

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; things are thrown during a public altercation; second chance romance?; angst and fluff and feels; Jungkook's POV

non-idol!AU; fashion model!Jungkook — ft fellow model/actor!Kim Taehyung and model/businessman!Kim Seokjin; a few cameos you can speculate on and one named cameo hehe; reader is not part of the entertainment industry

--

whether I'm gonna be your wife or gonna smash up your bike, I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back – imgonnagetyouback by taylor swift

It was a night just like any other night, which meant Jeon Jungkook was somewhere doing something because he was someone. On this night he was visiting a new upscale nightclub owned by one of his close friends, which was why he was at a table surrounded by his bros, expensive bottles of alcohol, and beautiful women. Not his scene, really. He was an introvert at heart. Despite that, he had obligations to be here. Obligations to laugh, to jest, to be merry, to be somebody.

But he knew he was just a somebody surrounded by much better bodies.

So, really, he was only a ghost.

“Hey, isn’t that…?”

It was luck and good friends that got him in the position he was in now. Jungkook knew that. He couldn’t complain too much when they invited him out. After all, they were only doing it because they cared about him. Yeah.

“She's really staring at you, man.”

Someone nudged his arm. For a moment, he didn’t comprehend that it was him that was being spoken to. Maybe it was the heavy black leather jacket. Underneath, he wore a tight white tank, and completed his outfit with studded charcoal-wash jeans and black leather boots. Nice, sure, but there were other men that much more sharply dressed with bigger designer labels. Of course, he cleaned up well with his slicked-back black hair and clean-shaven jawline. So did any other male model out there. He was not so egotistical to think he was the most interesting man there.

“Hmph, who?” he snickered, swinging around in his chair with the ice in his glass clinking. He would figure out who everyone was talking about from the reactions of the public. He snapped his head around, stray tendrils of black falling free onto his forehead, obscuring his vision for a split second, and then he faced the crowd beneath the VIP tables.

Time slowed.

The club was loud. Very loud, due to the deafening combination of music, chatter and laughter. It was lit with the imperfect balance of light and dark, oscillating spotlights exposing corners and weaving through moving bodies clad in fitted dresses, high heels, tailored blazers, suit pants. The alcohol was high-grade. The crowd was cherry-picked and pre-screened at the door. It was what it was. Individuals who had money blowing money, ignoring the sins around them to commit their own. It was hard to pick out someone.

But Jungkook saw her right away.

The club became quiet from his point of view. Sound became a mishmash of muffled, incoherent noises fading to the background as the faces blurred. The music dulled. All lights dimmed except in one area. Everything was still moving, still thriving, still breathing yet he was only aware of one single person.

His ex-girlfriend stared right at him from below.

Even from this distance he could feel the blades in her gaze.

Black patent leather jacket. Very short, cut just under the breasts. Black lace corset, see-through except for the cups. Skintight lilac miniskirt. Legs for days. Pointed-toe black pumps with a thin ankle strap, the kind he had trouble with due to the small delicate buckle.

He tried to breathe but the air was like concrete in his lungs.

She tilted her head, narrowing her smoked-out eyes. Her lips were glossy crimson, cool-toned to match the palette of her outfit. Her hair had been pinned up, exposing her graceful neck and glimmering collarbones.

She began to walk through the crowd.

Jungkook spun around and suddenly all the sound roared back, intense and thunderingly hostile. He winced, clutching his drink and holding the side of his head, trying to make sense of it all.

“Tch, why is she here?”

“Right? She doesn’t belong here.”

“She can be wherever she wants to be,” replied a calm, deep voice.

He could hear voices around him talking but it wasn’t making any sense. How? Why? Was he seeing things? And why did it matter? It didn’t. It didn’t. He took another sip of his glass and found it bitter and tasteless. Maybe that was in his head too. It didn’t matter if she was here. Someone was tugging on his arm. He pulled himself free, snapping his hand down onto the table.

The world crashed back into place as his drink sloshed and spat out from his force.

A startled feminine gasp.

The calm, deep voice returned. “You okay, man?”

Jungkook jerked his head up and saw Kim Taehyung carefully surveying him. He was a man with strong, masculine features and a comforting baritone voice that reminded one of cozy winters and romantic nights. Out of all his friends, they were the closest in age. However, Taehyung was more than a year older and a much more seasoned veteran of the modeling industry. He had been scouted at a very young age, quickly learning the ins-and-outs without losing who he was. He was grounded, easygoing, and never had a crack in his composure. At least, that was how Jungkook thought of him.

Taehyung raised a dark eyebrow, repeating his question without saying a word.

“I’m fine,” Jungkook scowled, then controlled his face a bit better. “What?”

Those dark, moody eyes served him a dose of silent judgement as one of the girls at the table spoke up again.

“Oooh, she’s sitting down at a table.”

He told himself not to look. It didn’t matter if she was here. And yet his head moved on its own, pivoting to the left so fast he almost had whiplash. At high-end clubs like this, there were tables available depending on to how much a patron spent. The larger tables had to be paid for in advance to be secured a space. Such reservations were violently expensive, signaling VIP status. A lot of the smaller tables on the lower level were occupied. The more exclusive tables were higher up, needing stairs to access the higher tiers. A waiter was holding her hand, carefully guiding his ex-girlfriend up the stairs to an empty round table that typically seated ten.

There was no one else at the table.

She sat down at the seat closest to overlooking the club.

“She can afford that?”

A crackling laugh. “Doubt it.”

“Who are you to say what she can’t afford?” Taehyung cut in sharply in a disapproving tone.

“O-Oh, well… It’s just not that common, you know.”

The chittering was from the women they had invited to the table earlier. Shit, their presence seemed so frivolous and annoying now. Jungkook had half a mind to turn around and glare at them. Instead, he was transfixed by the woman in patent leather and tight lilac. She crossed her legs, smoothed her skirt, and leaned back in her chair, scanning the crowd. A waiter came back and brought a bucket of ice with a champagne bottle and accompanying flutes. A waitress came by with another bottle. Porcelain, with painted flue floral design, and placed two crystal glasses onto the table. His former lover smiled at them, nodding. They bowed and took their leave after serving her.

Instead of touching the drinks, the woman turned her body and locked her icy stare right on him.

Jungkook stiffened and turned away quickly, feeling his body running hot. The table was still talking, but it was behind hands and feigned disinterest. Taehyung sighed, shaking his head. Of course, there had been other friends at the table too. Only now did Jungkook notice that they were missing. Must have wandered off. At the very least, their host Kim Seokjin would definitely be gone for a while. He was an affluent actor, model, and owner of several establishments, including this luxury nightclub. Eventually the tall, broad-shouldered man would return to see them off, but there was no telling when.

“Did you know she was gonna be here?” Jungkook hissed through gritted teeth, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the women. They still lingered for the free drinks which Taehyung kept supplied. No sense in wasting Seokjin’s endless tab after all.

Taehyung frowned. “I don’t police people’s actions. Does it matter what she does?”

Jungkook scoffed. “Oh, so this wasn’t your idea?”

Those normally warm brown eyes turned cold. “It wasn’t. Besides, she’s no longer your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely not.”

A growl collected in Jungkook’s throat and he was about to let it loose. He swiveled his head again only for the sound to die before it began. A man was standing by her table. He was sharply dressed in a suit and tie, with tied-back bleached-blond hair that laid over his shoulders. He had a pleasant decorum and a smile like a predatory feline. She gestured him to sit down and poured him a drink as invitation. He watched in horror as his ex-girlfriend chatted up a beautiful stranger.

He didn’t know whether he wanted to cry or run over there to flip the table.

A low voice cut through his thoughts.

“Wasn’t the breakup amicable?”

He froze.

Slowly, Jungkook faced Taehyung, his long-time friend. He never really could bring himself to fully lie to those piercing dark orbs, now reflecting the same reserved gaze that Taehyung had given him when Jungkook provided the same flimsy excuse he was once again repeating.

“I… It wasn’t meant to be,” Jungkook mumbled once more. “The traveling… it was too much for us.”

The older male was too good at reading between the lines, especially when it came to romance, his forte. “Hm.” He knew when he wasn’t getting the full story. “It’s probably too late to ask now, but was it what you wanted?”

Jungkook couldn’t help it.

“It was…”

He looked over his shoulder again.

“… What I deserved.”

She was thanking the blond-haired man. He bowed ninety degrees and leaned in, whispering something in her ear before leaving the table. His glass was empty. Someone else was approaching the table. A pretty woman with long black hair in a white minidress and short, pearl-white nails sat down, bowing lightly and introducing herself. His ex-girlfriend offered between the two drinks and the pretty woman chose the champagne. A waiter came over to uncork it for them, pouring a healthy amount into the two flutes.

They two chatted, immediately absorbed with each other.

“For a guy naturally talented at a lot of things, you’re such a stupid idiot.”

He was.

Wait.

Jungkook scowled, turning back to a disapproving Taehyung cradling a small ceramic cup. It was hand-painted with the smallest of brushstrokes, depicting a flock of black birds disappearing into the white sky. He took a sip with a gruff sigh, making a tense face. He was a wine guy, but he couldn’t turn down traditional Korean alcohol. That would be uncouth.

“How long are you going to continue moping?” Taehyung scoffed.

“I’m not moping,” Jungkook countered, hunched over the table and gripping his whiskey glass a little too hard.

“You are convincing no one. Least of all me.”

His eyes flickered upward, glaring. Taehyung remained refined, unperturbed, nearly prince-like in his half-open floral-and-forest-green silk shirt and ruffled hair. A black-brown curl perfectly grazed one of his eyebrows, accenting his condescending look with a dash of softness.

“Did you ever realize how much she did for you?”

Jungkook pushed away his glass. He couldn’t reply. He stuck his tongue in his cheek, trying not to feel. It was only then that he noticed that the table was strangely silent despite the fervor of the environment – the women had made themselves scarce, understanding that this conversation was much too serious for their girlypop night.

Finally, he forced himself to speak. “For me? I take care of myself.”

Taehyung winced. Hard. “You cannot be serious right now.”

Another peek behind him. A different man at her table now. Silvery-blonde hair, tan skin, muscular like a godly titan. She caught him looking and stared directly back. Jungkook cursed under his breath. “What did she do then? Hm? Enlighten me.” His voice was becoming rougher, slipping out of his practiced Seoul dialect and into his Busan dialect. The broad-shouldered man at the table had no suit jacket. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up. He must have noticed her lack of attention, because he began to turn around as well.

Jungkook jerked away before they could lock eyes too.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two,” Taehyung exhaled, not quite annoyed but getting there. “But I know you were the one that was wrong.”

Yeah, right.

“Never once did she complain about you. Never once did she butt into your business and cause you trouble when she could have. Never once did she talk behind your back when we both know damn well that you’re no saint, Jeon Jungkook.”

His tattooed hand against the table balled up into a fist, the familiar ache in his chest splitting, threatening.

Unintimidated, Taehyung continued. “The travelling was rough? Of course, it is. And there are probably a thousand ways to make it up to someone you love, but instead now I’m looking at you sitting here and her sitting there, pretending to be strangers. Tells me a whole lot about how that worked out.” His natural Daegu satoori was becoming more evident during his tirade. Taehyung wasn’t trying to be polite, though.

“You don’t know anything,” Jungkook retorted.

“I don’t.” Those dark brown eyes burned hot, scrutinizing him and tearing him apart. “And I don’t need to. Your hostility is telling me everything.”

“It was you,” Jungkook snapped, slamming his fist onto the table. “You invited her here.”

Taehyung’s low voice became lower, more accusatory. “Go ahead. Keep deflecting. Run back home and hide. That’s what you want to do, right?” His gaze narrowed and Taehyung’s normally friendly warmth morphed into scalding heat. “You heard what they said. She doesn’t belong here. And yet, here she is. They all talked and gossiped and badmouthed her, right to your face even, and yet you said nothing. You still don’t have the fucking balls, man. You didn’t respect her for all she was. In spite of that, she stood beside you, head held high, until you tossed her away. You brought her into this world, you ripped her out of it, and guess what? She is here. She holds her own. You deluded yourself into thinking she needed you. But she doesn’t, and it’s the other way around.”

Jungkook shot up out of his seat, nearly knocking the chair over. He was breathing hard, his furious anger so violent that it clawed at his insides, and Taehyung tilted his head, mirroring the expression of an adult tiger observing a foolish cub.

“You’re wrong,” Jungkook gritted out between clenched teeth. “You’re fucking wrong.”

He… No. She did this. This was her fault. She was the one that always pushed him to go for what he wanted. She was the one who always helped him make it work. Last minute changes happened often early in his career and she always smiled at him and told him to go, to run, to chase those adventures. And she always waited for him to come home.

“I wasn’t like that.”

In the middle of dinners for two. In vacations cut short. In forgotten special dates. Go. She always waited for him to come home. He couldn’t be blamed for that. Those were all her own decisions. He just had to do what he had to do, didn’t he? He couldn’t be blamed for doing what he thought was best. He couldn’t be blamed for trying his best. This dull ache created from a thousand cuts was not made from his own hand.

Right?

“You’re hopeless.” Taehyung slumped back in his chair and sighed. “Do as you wish.”

He wasn’t the person Taehyung was saying he was.

If he was, then…

No.

Jungkook whipped around and locked his eyes to the table, walking determinedly up to it.

There was a different man sitting there now. A very tall one with very short hair, violate energy, and a striking profile, deeply engaged in conversation with his ex-girlfriend. Currently laughing bashfully at something she must have said. The stranger was wearing a crisp black dress shirt with the first few buttons undone and well-tailored black slacks. Jungkook wanted to punch him in his very handsome face. He didn’t care that the man’s shoulders and arms were so built that they were nearly bursting the seams of his dress shirt, nor did he care that starting a fight right now would do absolutely nothing except get him thrown out in handcuffs.

Jungkook wanted to kill him.

Her eyes took a moment to shift from the very handsome stranger to him.

It hurt.

It really fucking hurt.

He glared back. Her gaze was not as heated, nor did it hold the same ice she had during their last conversation way back then. There was a completely different mix of emotions conveyed now. Almost disconnected, lonely, and loathing all at once, the last not directed at him but at herself.

As if she didn’t want to care but did and hated herself for it.

It wasn’t who she was at all, and Jungkook hated himself for doing this to her.

“Dude, I’m going to need you to get lost.”

Startled, the seated man turned his head to see Jungkook giving him a death stare. He hated seeing the puppy-like expression on such a masculine-looking man, not because he looked down on that but because it was a genuine, adorable reaction that couldn’t be faked.

She probably liked that.

She probably deserved that.

Jungkook was determined to ruin this too. Why the fuck not?

The man looked confused, and then irritated. “Uh… Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I don’t think you belong here.” He had a commanding, stern tone. He shifted in his seat, halfway to rising. “This conversation doesn’t include you.”

“No, this conversation doesn’t include you,” Jungkook snapped, glancing at her. His ex-girlfriend did nothing but raise an eyebrow at him, her arms crossed under her breasts. “Fuck off.”

The man in the black dress shirt began to stand, brows furrowing. “Hey, I’m going to have to ask you to leave–”

“Excuse me.”

She stood up.

From this distance, Jungkook could fully take in how the smoke-grey eyeshadow accentuated the shape of her eyes, making them more prominent and intense. The lights caught the glow of her skin and the vividness of the scarlet of her lips, giving her an ethereal, untouchable demeanor. Loose layers of her hair framed her face despite the majority of it being pinned up, casting cold, dark shadows around the hot radiance of her gaze.

“I’m sorry to cut our conversation short, but I think it’s best if you give us a moment,” she said politely to the tall stranger while bowing. “I was enchanted to meet you tonight, Kim Mingyu.”

A pink flush dusted over the man’s cheeks. This motherfucker had the audacity to be flustered. Jungkook still wanted to punch him in the face. Maybe more now than before.

“O… Oh… Um. Alright.” He glanced between Jungkook and her. “Will you be okay?”

She smiled, maintaining confident eye contact with the stranger. “Let’s not assume the worst of people. And… Your words have given me courage. I thank you.”

It took everything in Jungkook not to trip the guy on his very expensive designer shoes as he hastily bowed and took his leave, offering an awkward half-wave before backing away. She raised a hand back, not looking away even when he turned around.

And then.

Quiet.

At least as quiet as a loud nightclub could be. But it all became background noise in the face of loaded silence. The safety off now. The bass faded into heartbeats as she raised her eyes and, once again, they faced each other across the table. Jungkook stood with his hands balled up into fists in the pockets of his leather jacket. His former lover stood with her hands in front of her. She was still the most beautiful, graceful, and collected woman that he had ever had the pleasure to know.

“I’m…”

And he missed her so, so much.

“I’m sorry.”

So fucking much.

Her eyes flickered down in a pause, and then back up. “It really doesn’t matter anymore. The past is in the past.”

Her name on his lips felt foreign and familiar all at once. She didn’t react. It was as if he had said nothing at all. He said it again, almost with an edge of panic, and she closed her eyes, breathing in slowly. He wanted to run to the other side. He wanted to climb on top of the table and grab her hands and tell her it was going to be okay, that he was going to be better, that she was the love of his life and that he could be hers too, please, if only he had a chance. Instead, he stayed where he was, frozen in place, trying not to do the wrong thing even though everything about this scene and script was all wrong.

Her eyes opened in a resigned, resolute flutter.

“Do you think saying sorry takes back everything you’ve done?” she asked in a measured tone.

He pulled his hands out of his jacket, shaking his head. “No. No, of course not. I… You didn’t give me a chance to apologize, and I–”

“Apologize for what?” she coldly interrupted.

“W-Well… For… everything, really.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t know.”

Jungkook blinked hard, trying to banish his tears. “Know?” he echoed.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” Her words were sharpened steel, cutting right through him.

“I do,” he insisted. “For all the times I left during dinner, for all the times I’ve left during our scheduled time together, for forgetting your birthday, anniversary–”

“For the blatant disrespect,” she interrupted, her hands separating, those intense eyes narrowing. “For always believing I could fend for myself when you got swept up during work events. For contacting me not to talk about my day, but to interrogate me on what I was doing. For not believing me and asking me to send photos every time I was out somewhere.”

He sputtered, taken aback. “That wasn’t… Those things–”

“For always knowing I understood your position and taking it for granted.” Her glare was like daggers, cutting through all the lies he told himself. “And yet never understanding mine. Never believing in the love I had for you.”

“I did believe!”

“And so you accused me of lying?” she shot back, scathing him. “I have never done anything to make you believe I was disloyal to you, but I was five minutes late to a date and suddenly I need to be lying? Suddenly that was a sign of my nefarious plans? Suddenly I’m the bad guy that needs to be backed into a corner? Suddenly I must beg on my knees to soothe your feelings?”

“I didn’t ask for that,” he retorted. “I just asked why you didn’t text that you were late.”

“I don’t need to repeat what I said then,” she growled, bristling. She had been five minutes late because of an elderly taxi driver taking his time. “Because it didn’t matter what the reason was for you. I know that now. You were scared. You were insecure. You were nervous that I was beginning to fall out of love with you. You latched onto the first thing I did wrong and blew it out of proportion to force me to grovel to you. You could have asked me directly how I felt. Instead, you decided to play fucking games.”

Jungkook couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

Her hands balled up into fists by her sides. “I was patient. I was understanding. I loved you.” She dug her nails into her palms, clenching her jaw. “But I was not going to let myself be manipulated by your insecurities. I was not about to lose myself to become an extension of you, Jeon Jungkook.”

Past tense.

“You… loved me?”

She might as well have stabbed him right through the heart.

A thundering pause.

Finally, she sighed. Her hands relaxed.

“When I came in here, I didn’t know if I wanted to run to you or slap you.”

She looked around, down at the crowd, up to the lights, to the bar, the tables, the people.

“Before you, all I had was a decent job. Not exciting, but good enough to enjoy the life I wanted. I had loose acquaintances and once-in-a-blue-moon friends. I had mediocre hobbies that I was okay at. Before you, that had been enough. This,” she breathed, indicating the people and the money being flaunted around like water during a rainstorm. “I didn’t know this. I didn’t know how lonely it was to be standing this high. I didn’t know… My acquaintances and few friends saw the life you gave me and faded away, no longer relating to the extravagance I was exposed to. My job became a forbidden topic for the mere crime that it was boring. My hobbies became childish to these refined eyes. Yet… I could live with all that. The life I wanted was the one I had with you. And… it turned out to be miserable.”

For the first time, Jungkook realized how much she lost loving him.

“I was miserable.”

She half-laughed, empty.

“But I loved you.”

Lowered her head.

“And I was so, so damn angry with you.”

She smacked the table with her palm, hard enough to make the people around them flash them a startled look. Her fingers tensed, cherry-red manicure flaring over the wood.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” This was the part Jungkook didn’t understand. His voice rose in both frustration and desperation. “Why didn’t you just blow up on me? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Say what?” she snarled, snapping her head up, each word a bullet tearing through him. “Huh? No, don’t go? How dare you leave me, again? Create the war wounds right before we part? What good does all that do? Make us both upset right before you run off? Because you would anyway. You know you would, because you are stubborn and selfish and always doing what you need to do, putting me at the bottom of the list since I am capable… right? I can handle myself, right?”

He was rounding the table, knocking chairs aside. “You could have been angry at me. You just didn’t want to be!”

“Who wants to be angry? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“What, you were worried that you would no longer be the perfect girlfriend if you weren’t understanding?” he accused.

She looked livid. “Don’t you dare flip my consideration onto me.”

He stopped right in front of her, tension all over his neck and jaw. “It’s your fault too. I can’t change if you act like everything is fine!”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious? I have to be the one to teach you not to be a fucking selfish prick and think about someone else for a change?” she hissed.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Of course, you know!”

They were beginning to draw whispers and stunned faces but neither of them was backing down or ashamed enough. Or, perhaps, they were simply completely unaware of the disruption they were causing.

“You knew – no, you still know,” she snarled, jabbing him in the chest with a impeccably manicured finger. “You have never felt like you fit in with these people. That was why you tried so hard. That was why you took every opportunity to be a lapdog. That was why you dated me, because I am not privileged and enabled, that’s why you dragged me into your world and got paranoid when I wasn’t showing the same apprehensions as you, putting me in impossible positions and playing games, when we could have been teamed up against the world, when we could have been yin and yang, but all we were was a pair of damn cowards!”

His eyes went wide.

Fury laced in her helpless expression.

“You could have protected me. All you did was make me throw myself to the wolves to protect you!”

Her hands slammed into his chest and she shoved him, hard. He stumbled back, throwing his right arm out, knocking over a champagne flute and shattering it. Glass exploded onto the floor, delicate shards shooting out and catching the light, scattering into dust beneath designer feet.

People gasped and someone screamed at the unexpected noise.

His left hand reached out and gripped the patent leather sleeve of her jacket. Their gazes locked in shock and comprehension. His lips parted. One of his knees was still bent to steady himself from falling. But before Jungkook could say anything, she squeezed her eyes shut, breaking their connection, and ripped her arm from his grasp.

Then she seized the porcelain bottle with painted blue flowers and threw it onto the floor, shattering that too.

One moment of awful, dazed silence.

The next moment, men in security uniforms swiftly and silently crossed the distance and surrounded them. He was being grabbed and pinned down to the table, metal handcuffs clicked onto his wrists behind his back despite his protests. His jaw dropped when one of the men touched her shoulder and she immediately turned around and slapped him. Instantly, she too was firmly pushed down and also restrained, both of them staring at each other over the surface of the wood, their previously well-styled hair in disarray all over their faces, their eyes wide with the realization of the severity of their public argument.

He couldn’t help but think she looked fucking hot.

Something flickered in her eyes. She recognized his exact thought from their shared look. And his ex-girlfriend burst out laughing at this absurd situation, even as security hoisted them up and dragged them down the stairs. So, fuck it. He couldn’t help it either.

Jungkook started laughing too.

-

“This is your fault, by the way.”

“Feel free to add it to the list of shit I’ve done wrong.”

They were still handcuffed. Both standing a respectful distance away  from each other in the middle of a storeroom crammed with boxes stacked like a cardboard maze. There were no windows. The door was closed and presumably locked. Neither of them had moved towards it. There would be no criminal undercover going on here. They were already in deep enough shit. Adding attempted escape would probably change their current storeroom location into separate jail cells for the night.

They did not look at each other.

Jungkook leaned against the boxes, his hands stuck behind his back. One of the sides of his leather jacket had slipped down, exposing his right shoulder. It was nice, actually, since the previous scuffle had left him rather hot-blooded. He snuck a glance beside him.

His ex-girlfriend’s body was facing the door. The backs of her hands rested on the prominent curve of her ass in that tight lilac skirt, her straight posture making her waist look even smaller. Must be nice to have a built-in shelf. His eye line travelled up to her hair, seeing it half-undone and falling down her neck. Half of the pins were still holding up by sheer luck. The patent leather of her jacket crackled as she adjusted, stretching out her ankle. She was still in her high heels.

“Uncomfortable?” he found himself quietly asking.

“Could be worse,” she answered back, still not turning around.

He waited for her to elaborate.

She didn’t.

The silence was palpable. Somehow not unbearable. He looked back down at his feet, wondering why they had been left here. He half-expected security to escort them off the premises and into a police car, but they had marched them behind the kitchen and told them to stay put and not cause trouble, similarly to how misbehaving kids were put in time-out. Then again, the owner of the club was his affluent friend Kim Seokjin. Perhaps this was a rich people thing. Or an under-the-table thing.

Her voice echoed in his head.

You have never felt like you fit in with these people.

“Hey, uh…” he started, trailing off.

A light sigh.

Then, she shook her head, somewhat vigorously. Some of the hairpins loosened up. “Ugh, my hair is more annoying than anything,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s all messed up.”

Hell yeah, it was, and it was a turn-on, reminding him of after-sex tousling. Jungkook kept his mouth shut. Not the right time for that. He chewed on his lower lip, wondering if he could do anything. Wondering if he should do anything. She still hadn’t turned around.

So, he did.

He turned around, bent down slightly, and tried to reach up. The angle was difficult. Not high enough either. His leather sleeves were also constricting his movement and making loud creaking sounds. He looked back, trying to reach up with a grunt, and she stiffened, swinging her head around. He froze in an awkward position. She stared at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He blinked back. “Um… I… I was trying to help…?”

Her eyebrow raised. “By… doing yoga?”

He let out an impatient huff. “No, I’m trying to help you take the pins out of your hair,” Jungkook clarified, straightening with a frustrated shake of his body. “It’s bothering you, isn’t it? But I’m not flexible enough and you’re too tall in your heels.”

She paused. He looked away, feeling somewhat embarrassed for even trying. Who was he to think that he could do something like that? Hah. His hands tightened behind him. They weren’t close like that anymore. They weren’t even friends.

He felt a sting in his heart remembering that.

“Sorry… I should have asked if you wanted the help at all.”

He exhaled heavily.

Stillness.

Then he heard the crack of patent leather and raised his head to see her squat down, lowering one knee to the concrete floor, her back perfectly straight and her head at his waist height. She was facing the door again so he couldn’t see her expression.

“If… Well, it would be helpful if you could… If you could remove the hairpins,” she mumbled, keeping her head up. “Please.”

He gawked at her kneeled form, unmoving.

His heartbeat accelerated.

“Um… if you’re going to do it, faster would be better,” she added hesitantly with placed-in chuckle. “I don’t know how long I can keep my balance in these shoes.”

His cheeks burned. “Uh, yeah, s-sorry. I’m on it.”

The metal handcuffs clinked as he moved. He turned around and backed up a bit, reaching out to feel for her hair. Sucked in a quiet breath as his fingers grazed the soft strands, memories of stolen nights drifting back to him. He swallowed hard and bit his lip, using touch to search for the hairpins, and then loosening them as gently as he could. One by one. He tried to tuck them in his palm as he continued. Sometimes he would need to rest one hand on her head and use the other to pull them out slowly and carefully. She said nothing, tilting her head slightly as he made his way around. He felt his way along her scalp, running his fingers through her hair, remembering the familiar scent he could detect when he used to breathe it in, remembering his hands holding her head as he used to lean in and kiss her, remembering that he had lost all of that now.

Jungkook lowered his chin, letting out a soundless cry.

“You liked my hair down, I recall,” she commented behind him, her soothing voice mirroring the rolling tide late at night.

“Y… Yeah.”

He smiled despite himself. He pulled back his handcuffed hands.

“You have lovely hair. I don’t like seeing it all tucked away.”

For a moment, there was a quietness as those words sank in. She shifted, and he heard her stand up, the sharp click of her heels indicating as much, but he kept his back to her, unsure if this was the last time he would touch her hair. The last time he hadn’t known it would be the last, so he didn’t mourn the moment until way later, but this time…

“Thank you.”

He breathed in through his nose. Oddly stuffy in here.

“Y… You’re welcome.”

He wished he could take it all back, but he couldn’t. He wished he could prove he was a better man, but he didn’t know how or even if he could. She was right. He had gotten swept up in his ambitions and the superficial relationships. He had been afraid. He had let that fear control him because he had felt out of sorts with who he was, who he was becoming, and who he wanted to be.

“I really… I really am sorry.”

They were back-to-back. Not touching. Just close enough to feel each other’s presence without seeing them. Hands behind their backs, staring in opposite directions but finally seeing the path before them.

“I know.”

She let out a soft breath.

“I wished for the way I felt to change once I could accept your apologies, but,” she whispered. “Life isn’t that simple or clear cut.”

His chest ached. “Yeah.” It didn’t matter if his actions had unintentional consequences. The consequences still existed. “You’re right. About it all. About the person I became and how I treated you because of it. About how this was because of me feeling like I don’t fit in.”

She didn’t say anything, yet Jungkook could sense her acknowledgment. He couldn’t really explain why he knew. Maybe it had something to do with their current circumstances.

“I keep trying and I… I don’t know. Maybe I’m too simple-minded. Maybe I can’t understand the world these people live in. I mean, my friends seem like normal people but there are still moments where I catch myself thinking, I wouldn’t have thought to do or say that. I feel so… disconnected, sometimes. Meaningless. Maybe I’m not worth a damn to them.”

He was rambling, slipping between his refined dialect and his Busan satoori. He caught himself, about to correct his wording.

“You don’t have to be like the people around you to fit in,” she chided.

He stopped trying to form a sentence and listened.

“You don’t listen. That has always been your strength. Your charm is your natural character with the added spice of rebellion.” Her chuckle lightened, making his heart tighten and feel like exploding at the same time. “Your talent has always been bravely walking your own path, confusing as it may be. There is a pureness in that. You have friends because they want to protect that part of you. Haven’t you noticed? Your friends have never asked you to change or be like them. They just accept you for how you are and push away people who try to mold you into their vision.”

His friends? Well, true, they were the main reasons for him getting the jobs he got. He had always felt somewhat inadequate, realizing his success was from seniors in the industry helping him out. They all told him that this was how it worked. They all told him to do well so he could get more opportunities. It was part of the reason that he felt that he couldn’t let those connections down. He had always felt that he couldn’t refuse.

“Your friends have always been on your side. They don’t want you to be like them. They want you to stay as you are. You mean that much to those around you.”

But perhaps he had been wrong all along.

“Only you thought you needed to change.”

There was probably a lot of sound outside, but the distracting racket was inaudible from the distant storeroom. Her quiet voice amplified her words in this slice of stillness. There something stricken and bitter haunting the air between them as the revelation settled.

He clutched her hairpins in his fist.

“I didn’t… I didn’t date you just because you weren’t part of this vapid world I’m in.”

He wanted her to know.

“I wish…”

The tears stung the corners of his eyes. He refused to let them go. Jungkook looked up to the ceiling, taking in each breath as steadily as he could. He felt like he was drowning, except instead of water, it was all the things he never said.

“I wish I could have been strong enough for you to be angry at me sooner. Tonight, I realized… It was my own shortcomings that made you stay quiet.” He chuckled dryly in admiration. “You endured more than I ever could. More than anyone should.” He didn’t know if he was making any sense but he kept on going. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so mad. That was the most emotion I’ve ever seen from you. You must have spent a lot of nights… feeling so alone because of my selfishness.”

This was not a romantic setting at all. They were stuck in a storeroom with no windows, surrounded by boxes, handcuffed for being a public disruption, for being too dramatic and too emotional. Neither of them could look at the other. A disaster in every sense of the world.

But.

Maybe this was the most honest moment they had ever shared.

Her laugh simmered behind him.

“I’m sorry for losing my shit.”

He half-smiled in rueful relief.

“It wasn’t so bad. Low-key kinda hot. I almost lost the plot at times.”

She laughed under her breath. “You don’t mean that.”

A single heartbeat of silence.

“I kinda do,” he admitted, feeling the upturned corners of his lips falter.

It became quiet once more. An embarrassed quiet, but maybe only on his side. Jungkook still couldn’t bring himself to turn around and find out. He shifted awkwardly, realizing he was still holding her hairpins in his hand. Uh. Well, he couldn’t exactly ask her to put them in her pocket. Did she even have any pockets with that outfit? He furrowed his brows, thinking about that tight skirt and lace corset. Doubtful there would be any pockets in such fitted clothing. Maybe in her jacket, but it was so short that he would basically have to reach for her tits to…

His face heated slightly realizing that he was heavily focusing on her body right now.

Click.

He didn’t really register the sound behind him at first. It sounded like something falling onto the concrete. There was another sharp tapping sound, but before he could shift and twist his body to see, he felt her fingertips brush against the knuckles of his fist.

“I’m sorry too.”

He was too shocked to even move or react. Just stood there wide-eyed, struck by the lightning of her touch, realizing they were that close and that it was her who initiated that.

“I should have brought up the little things that bothered me. I shouldn’t have let it snowball simply because I thought it would make your life easier. I should have tried to remind you not to be intimidated by those around you,” she sighed heavily. “And I should have believed in your apology more than I did.”

The pads of her fingertips stilled.

One by one, they lost contact.

Jungkook dropped all the hairpins on the floor in a cascade of metal raindrops.

He reached back and grabbed her hand, gripping her fingers tightly, gasping as he felt her cool skin against his warmth. He felt her initial rise of reluctance, however, she did not pull away. Their handcuffs clinked against each other, the chains colliding. He scrambled to reach a little higher. Grasping her hand in his. Her right in his right. He tried to say something. Something romantic, something reassuring, something self-derogatory even.

But nothing come out.

He tried to breathe and was choked by inner tears. Tried again, shaking, trying to be silent. Her fingers curled around the back of his hand and laid there. She gave him a light squeeze.

“Don’t worry.”

Her calming voice a dream on this night.

“I’m here.”

They held hands.

It must have been only for a short while. It felt like forever packed in minutes. He inhaled deeply, catching fleeting traces of her sweet and sultry perfume. Closed his eyes with an exhale. Another inhale, slower this time. Maybe this was futile. Maybe this was objectively wildly inappropriate. Maybe he was the fucking worst, wishing, hoping they could reset to something new. All of this could crash and burn.

Or.

Or, maybe.

He swallowed tightly. Leaned back just a little. Their shoulder blades touched. A moment of suspended anticipation. She leaned back against him. The backs of their heads didn’t yet touch. He felt her hair on his neck. It was only the tops of their backs that touched, but now there was only centimeters of trembling air between them.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice rough and nervous.

“Only a little.” Her thumb brushed against the side of his palm. “I’ll be alright.”

Yeah, he knew that. “You’re the most capable person I know.”

She sighed. “It’s not all sunshine and roses.”

He scrunched up his face in search for the words. “Well… You suit moonlight and thorns more.”

She nearly snorted. He felt her shoulders shake in silent laughter. He winced, thinking he said something wrong.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I like those better, anyway!” He blurted it out quickly. Maybe too quickly, curling a bit in on himself once he realized what he said, cringing, but she tugged on his hand ever so slightly. It was obvious she was shaking her head from her hair swishing over his neck.

“You always had a thirst for danger, Jungkook.”

Her tone was slight and playful. He felt his cheeks burn and his heart race so hard that he almost couldn’t breathe from the pressure. Nearly stuttered when he heard his name in her voice, clenching his jaw shut so he didn’t make a fool of himself. Again. His entire body tensed, on edge and vibrating from the rush of emotions.

“Are you trying to break my hand?”

He was gripping her hand way too tight. “S-Sorry!” He loosened his stiff fingers, twisting his wrist to keep his hand cupped around hers. “Sorry…”

“Heh, it’s not like you to apologize,” she teased.

Jungkook furrowed his brows. “Hey...”

Her head laid against his shoulder.

He stilled, heartbeat pounding. She looked up at the ceiling. At least, he presumed that from the angle. The back of her head touched his left shoulder, just barely. Her hair spilled against his collarbone and back, messy and free.

“I bet you have somebody. You’re too good-looking to have nobody lined up.”

Her murmur was soft and resigned. Guilty.

Her words hung in the air.

He tipped his head back, the nape of his neck against her shoulder. The patent leather of her jacket squeaked loudly under his presence. He wished. He hoped. He…

“I have someone,” he confessed.

He squeezed her hand. Their faces tilted upwards to the ceiling, and still Jungkook could recall every detail of her eyes – the way they glimmered when she smiled, the way they sparked when she was serious, the way they twinkled during all their special moments, the way they hollowed out when she turned away from him.

His fingers gently separated hers, interlocking.

The words were at the tip of his tongue.

His lips parted.

Suddenly there were loud footsteps on the other side of the heavy wood door. His ex-girlfriend jerked up in alarm. Jungkook stumbled. Both of them quickly sprang away from each other as the noisy jangle of keys was heard and then the heavy door swung open, revealing the two of them standing there, tense, now staring wide-eyed at a tall, broad-shouldered man flanked by two security guards. His black hair was perfectly parted, half brushing against his forehead and half combed back, giving a corporate feel in his tailored black suit. He was strikingly handsome by all accounts. Intense dark brown eyes, sculpted brows, full lips, stunning jawline.

Kim Seokjin wore an exasperated, annoyed expression.

He ticked his head to Jeon Jungkook’s ex-girlfriend.

“You. Come with me.”

She hesitated for a second and stepped forward, hanging her head a bit. “I sincerely apologize for the trouble I’ve caused.”

It would be expected for such a stern, posh-looking man to be harsh. Instead, Seokjin stuck his fists by his waist and sighed loudly, similarly to a disappointed grandmother scolding her favorite child.

“Haaah… come on. You’re not going to jail. I want to talk to you alone. Hey, uncuff her,” the owner of the nightclub tutted. One of the security guards went around her to unlock the handcuffs. “It took me a while to handle everything out there. At least the incident won’t be on the news or anything.” He reached out and held her elbow as she was released, steadying her balance and leading her out of the room. The guards followed, not taking a second glance back.

Jungkook frowned. “Hey, hyung–”

Seokjin whipped up and pointed a finger at him. “No. You stay here.”

Jungkook balked, offended. “What?! What about me?”

The older man glared at him like he was the naughty child. “I’ll have a conversation with you after. Stay.”

Anger boiled high. “I’m not a dog!”

Offensively, Seokjin barked back with, “You’re right. Dogs are loyal. And want to listen to people. You have the listening skills of a straw. In one end and out the other.”

The door slammed shut with finality.

Jungkook stood there, speechless, gawking at the sheer audacity.

Then he kicked the floor with a roar of impatience once Kim Seokjin’s insult finally registered. What the hell! Kim Seokjin was the one to invite him here in the first place! Seokjin was the oldest of Jungkook’s friends that took him under his wing, teaching him about various business aspects behind the scenes and making sure Jungkook knew the importance of having a good lawyer to look over his contracts. Now Seokjin had him locked up as if he was a five-year-old receiving a time out! Who did he think he was, his disciplinarian?

“What the fuck?!”

Then Jungkook ceased all movement, no longer stomping around in circles.

It was him.

Kim Seokjin had invited him here tonight.

It was him. Kim Seokjin had told him he better get his ass over here on this night in particular if he knew what was good for him. Not unusual, as his friends usually had to threaten him to go outside these days. It was you. You invited her here. It wasn’t Taehyung who invited her. He had been telling the truth all along.

“That bastard.”

Snarling, Jungkook whipped his head to the door and glared at it, fully intending to charge like a goddamn bull right into Kim Seokjin once it opened again.

I, I hear the whispers in your eyes I'll make you wanna think twice you'll find that you were never not mine you're mine

-

i hear... | ... the whispers... | ... in your eyes.

--

masterpost

[butmakeitgayblog]

How about Easy A for Clexafication? I could see Clarke trying to help out a fellow gay by telling other kids in school that she slept with him. And then, thanks to her loud mouth friends, it gets out of hand with her trying to help out other guys and she gets labeled the school slut even though she’s never slept with anyone. At first Clarke leans into it and plays up the slut bit but soon realizes that it’s all too much. Her actual crush Lexa seems to be the only person who doesn’t believe the rumors. I see Lexa as the school mascot (the warriors) and she does the whole warrior getup with black eye makeup and riles up the crowd at pep rallies. Lexa also works at a local seafood restaurant where she dresses up like a pirate which is also a look that Clarke quite enjoys. Eventually the truth comes out and Clarke and Lexa become everyone’s favorite couple at school.

Ahoooo do I have a cavalcade of HCs for an Easy A au 👀.

First of all, they'd be childhood friends. The kind with weekly sleepovers and even a joint a 5th birthday party one year (despite their birthdays being 3-4 months apart, much to their parents dismay. But they insisted.) I'm talking the childhood friends who practiced witchcraft in each others backyards (potions of mud, cool lookin rocks, and leaves. Highly dangerous stuff), who learned to ride bikes together, who caught fireflies in glass jars together, who promised to grow up and get married to each other 'cuz boys are yucky' kind of friends.

And then middle school happened. And they both kinda went their separate ways.

Well.

More like Lexa grew into her own person. Doing things like joining the girls basketball team. And then volleyball. Even ruining their weekend plans with track and field practice one too many weekends in a row. She started branching out in her interests and making new friends, and left Clarke totally behind. Or so that's what Clarke has always thought (more on that later)

Cut to high school and they haven't spoken to each other in years. Not since about 3 weeks into 6th grade. There's no animosity or anything, it's just... They're strangers who occasionally wave and smile at each other in the school halls. Lexa way more often than Clarke ever does, but it's not like anybody's keeping a tally. Right? Because it doesn't matter because they don't know each other anymore. Clarke doesn't even really recognize Lexa as the same girl who used to wear matching Mutant Ninja Turtles pj shirts with her and stay up late staring at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on her bedroom ceiling while they talked for hours. Now Lexa is like, Ms. High School with all her Track and Field trophies and her badass Warriors mascot credentials (the pauldron, plastic sword, and warpaint coming across much more threatening than their old mascot, The Raccoons 😕 (tho there will always be something to be said for their freshman year when Lexa was forced to rally in the overstuffed costume while menacingly rubbing her lil raccoon-y painted hands together...)). That all has cemented her a seat at the Cool Kids Table.

Not to mention the fact that Lexa spent all of sophomore and junior year with her arm permanently attached to her (now ex) girlfriend's hip.

Not that Clarke ever cared. Or even noticed. So like, why did you even bring it up? ಠ_ಠ

Anyway.

So when her not-really friend but general acquaintance Monty asks her to... well, be his beard, Clarke agrees. In a way that, jesus fuckin hell, really got away from her faster than she ever anticipated. Because then Monty tells Jasper, and Jasper asks her to do the same, and before she even knows what the hell happened to this simple favor, everyone in school seems to believe that a painfully virgin Clarke is fucking the entire AV Club. And more.

It all spirals from there with the usual slut shaming and everything that goes along with society's hatred of women who have sex. It's only when her own best friend Raven/Wells (whichever, doesn't matter) turns on her - accusing her of being a slut and a liar and a terrible friend for not even telling them - that Clarke just says "haha Ok Fuck This" and goes all in.

Which. Whew. This is Clarke Griffin we're talking about. She's aware she's been blessed by puberty. So when she starts shaking her ass around school in tight jeans and corset tops, it has the exact effect she desires.

And then some.

More, in fact, than she had initially bargained for.

In the melee that follows of more guys bribing their way to be on the Griffin Bedpost Notches of Shame (and few a who missed the fucking memo that all of this is actually fake 😒), there is... Lexa.

Seemingly out of nowhere.

Where people had started parting in the hallways just to not touch her, Lexa seems to start showing up out of nowhere.

The smiles still come, and the friendly waves too. Nothing big. Nothing imposing, or like she wants something like everyone else. But then things like Lexa coming over to sit next Clarke during her break at the pep rally start happening (in her full Warriors getup to boot). Things like Lexa making little jokes to Clarke in passing. There's the moments when she asks Clarke if she's ok and offers her a ride after school, which Clarke always absently turns down. It's weird having Lexa back in her space again, but honestly, she's got too much on her plate to give it much thought. Because Lexa's just Lexa, and now Clarke's apparently the school slut, so... Their worlds are still very much divided.

Until eventually one night Clarke thinks she's actually going out on a date with a nice guy. I mean, she's known Finn since 10th grade. And he picks her up and opens the car door for her and everything. Like,,, this is most definitely a real date!

Except it's not, and he's a pervert asshole just like everyone tf else.

But thankfully, wouldn't ya know it, guess who happens to work at the very seafood/pirate themed restaurant that fuckboy Finn had decided on?

It's finally, FINALLY, in the quiet of Lexa's car when she parks them outside of Clarke's house that they actually talk. It starts with Clarke feeling like a fool for even thinking Finn could—... Not after everything. And Lexa of course does that thing she's taken to doing again. That calm, knowing, entirely too wise for her years kind of smile that Clarke still remembers from when they were kids.

Even in her ridiculous yet oddly attractive pirate's uniform (complete with a discarded eyepatch and clip on parrot) it's distractingly charming.

It's what has Clarke admitting that she doesn't know how she got into this mess. That she never meant to become this person. To which Lexa, in her infinite patience and wisdom, replies, "Clarke, you're still the same person you've always been. I know you. Nothing about you has changed."

Of course Clarke's dismissive answer to that is a smartassed, "Haven't you heard? I'm the school slut."

She can't help but smile at Lexa's laugh. "Actually, if I recall, you're the girl who once convinced me if I hung upside down by my feet from a tree, it'd help me grow taller."

"You can't say for sure that it didn't help," is Clarke's automatic response with a wave toward Lexa's general lanky, goddess-esque physique. Which earns her another laugh. Again, not that anyone's keeping a tally.

"True," is Lexa's response and, dammit, she's doing that all knowing smile-y grin thing again. "But you're also the girl who used to help me tie my shoes. And traded her pickles for my carrots. And taught me how to fold our secret notes so that nobody else could ever read them."

And, yeah, Clarke does remember that. Which in hindsight had been kind of stupid. It wasn't like they ever let their class time correspondence fall into the dastardly hands of anyone but each other, so the chances of interception were zilch making the whole exercise rather moot. But at the time it'd felt... important. Because what'd they'd had was only ever meant for just them.

What the hell even happened to those girls?

"You stopped answering my calls," is Lexa's simple reply. It doesn't even seem to hold any blame. "It was like... one day you just cut me out."

Which was not what had happened?

Was it?

Except, as Lexa gently explains that while, yes, she did start getting into sports, she still always tried to make time for Clarke. She did call and leave messages that kept going unanswered. Sent texts that more often than not were left on read. She'd ask Clarke to go to her games and track meets, sometimes would call her just to come out to eat with her and her teammates. But Clarke had always given her a disinterested promise for a million next times that never actually came.

Eventually Lexa just stopped trying because Clarke made it clear that she didn't like who Lexa was anymore. And it stings ten times worse because Lexa's doesn't sound angry or blaming. Just a little hurt. Maybe still a little sad even after all these years.

It's just one more thing to feel absolutely awful about. Like, she really is the universe's biggest asshole. She has no idea what to do with this revelation of her own failures, or the soft way Lexa keeps looking at her.

After that night things both change, yet stay completely the same. Because after that night when she'd apologized to Lexa and said she regreted doing what she'd done - that 6th grade her was an idiot. 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, and 11th grade her as well 🤧 - she was still the "school slut" and a social pariah, but she had her best friend back at least.

Her best friend who smiled her every time they passed in the hallway and sometimes walked her to class. Her best friend who now ate lunch with her and texted her on the weekends and would laugh at every single one of her jokes (fINE we're keeping a fucking a tally).

Her best friend, who when Clarke mentions is the only perso who talks to her without looking at her corset wrapped breasts, nonchalantly corrects, "Oh I look. Just... Respectfully."

It's hard to return the decency of that favor when Lexa walks away after leaning into Clarke's ear and whispering, "You know I prefer Ninja Turtles pjs anyway."

Clarke eventually comes clean about the whole fiasco, too the shock of everyone. Everyone, that is, except Lexa. Because Lexa kind of knew. Because, as Lexa says in all her glorious Warrior gear, when she kisses Clarke in front of the entire school at the end of the football team's pep rally—

"I told you, Clarke. I know you."

[legally-brief]

MOVIES WITH MEN IN UNDERWEAR (This is outdated- website shutdown early 2000’s)

“B”

Bachelor Flat (1961) Terry Thomas romps through most of this movie in checked patterned full-cut boxer shorts, garters and a British umbrella.

Bachelor Party (1984) Customer trying on pants in poorly constructed fitting room doesn’t realize his jockeys are in view of the whole store. Near beginning of the film.

Back in Action (1994) Muscled action hero Billy Blanks has a fight scene in his white boxer briefs.

Back to the Future (1985) Michael J. Fox in purple Calvins. Real quick peek.

Back to the Future Part II (1989) Time-travel comedy, 1989. Unaware that history has been changed, Marty McFly (Michael J. Fox) returns ‘home’ but finds he’s now in some girl’s bedroom. He’s chased out by the girl’s father, a big black man in his underwear, furiously swinging a baseball bat.

Back to the Future Part III (1990) Michael J. Fox in LONGJOHNS. Flap down on one side shows a quick peek of buttcheek as well.

Backdraft (1991) Jason Gedrick (guy from Murder One) in boxers - Baldwin is also in boxers.

Bad Boyz in Boxers This entire movie devoted to boxer shorts. It is distributed by the Latino Fan Club under Salsa Productions label. It is mostly hunky, uncut Latin guys wearing boxer shorts and jerking off to orgasm. One of the scenes involves one guy giving blow jobs to two others; the rest are solo. All the guys wear boxers; most are uncut. The boxers are many different varieties and patterns. It’s a GREAT movie!

Bait (2000) Action/comedy. Jamie Foxx in his underwear.

Bang (1995) A young woman is nearly raped by a LAPD motorcycle officer, but, at the crucial moment, she succeeds in grabbing his gun. At gunpoint, she forces the cop to strip down to his skivvies, ties him up to a post and then leaves the scene, on his bike and dressed in his uniform! And that's not the last you hear of the luckless fuzz. Reportedly, there a number of subsequent scenes where you see him, all tied up in his undies.

Bang the Drum Slowly (1973) Robert DeNiro, in jock in coach’s office.

Bang! Bang! You're Dead! (1966) Tony Randall spends the night with a woman. In the morning, there's a tussle for a gun, and his blanket falls off, leaving him in his boxer shorts.

Basketball Diaries, The (1995) Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Walhberg (Marky Mark), Patrick McGaw, and James Madio in several scenes wearing just boxer shorts.

Beastmaster 1 or 2 Marc Singer ... always in his leather loincloth?

Bedtime Story (1964) Marlon Brando strips down to his boxer shorts, and finds himself in an embarrassing moment.

Beefcake (1999) Cheerful documentary about the history of 'muscle' magazines from the 1950s, featuring lots of posing pouches and nudes.

Being John Malkovich (1999) Surreal comedy. Near the end, Malkovich takes off his pants, showing his pink paisley boxer shorts.

Being There (1979) A slow-witted Peter Sellers in full-cut boxer shorts.

Belly (1998) Crime drama. When an argument breaks out among a gang, they attack one guy and force him to strip. He takes off his jacket, shirt and undershirt, pulls his pants and underwear down to his ankles, and hobbles across the room to sit on the couch. Clear but discreet nude shot, but no good view of the underwear.

Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, The (1982) Locker scene after football game (studs in jockstraps in locker room). And don’t forget the scene with all the cowboys running around in their underwear after the reporters come. MEOW!

Best Man, The (1999/I) Drama. Handsome young guy in his white boxers is talking on the phone, when he suddenly realises a woman is watching him. She comments, "Nice boxers! I thought you were strictly a briefs man".

Best Men (1997) Dean Cain in his black bikini briefs in a very short scene.

Bewegte Mann, Der (Maybe, Maybe Not) (Most Desired Man) (1994) Comedy. The desired man of the title comes back from a party to his gay friend’s flat, gets his trousers half off and falls asleep like that on the sofa in his gray boxer briefs.

Better Off Dead... (1985) John Cusack. Wearing red plaid boxers at beginning of movie.

Beyond the Mat (1999) Documentary. Terry Funk, a 53-year-old former WWF star, getting out of bed in his underwear.

Bhaji on the Beach (1993) Near the end of the movie three guys do a strip routine for a women only audience: down to black thongs.

Big (1988) Tom Hanks in Underoos at the beginning.

Big Easy, The (1987) Dennis Quaid getting dressed, goes from nothing to black bikini briefs. Fairly short scene.

Billy's Hollywood Screen Kiss (1998) Gay-themed romantic comedy. It has Brad Rowe in it (Brad Pitt lookalike). Scence where he is modeling underwear and is trying to squeeze into a black pair - another guy opens the door to where he is changing and catches him showing his butt. Later at the end there is a picture shown of Brad modeling white cotton briefs.

Biloxi Blues (1988) Matthew Broderick, et al - in army barracks - wearing army issue boxers - discussing what they want to do on their last three days on earth.

Bird (1988) Jazz biopic. Gloomy opening scene of marital argument and attempted suicide begins with Charlie "Bird" Parker (Forest Whitaker) coming home drunk and slowly stripping to white singlet and striped boxers.

Bird on a Wire (1990) Mel Gibson with Goldie Hawn. Long scene with Mel in bed or running around in briefs.

Birdcage, The (1996) Lots of scenes of houseboy in tight 501 cutoffs. One point he is cleaning the pool and he is wearing a thong.

Birdy (1984) Matthew Modine and Nicholas Cage in several scenes wearing full-cut printed boxer shorts.

Black Belt Jones (1974) Blaxploitation kung-fu. Hero battles villains in white collared shirt and briefs in one scene.

Black Joy (1977) Norman Beaton in his briefs; another guy in long underwear.

Black Magic Woman (1991) Mark Hamill

Blame It on Rio (1984) Michael Caine and Joe Bologna wrestle in bed in their underwear. It’s a comic scene that leaves the audience wondering.

Bless the Beasts and Children (1971) Billy Mumy (Lost in Space fame) and other kids in Hanes - some great scenes, including some JO shots.

Bliss (1997) Drama/romance. Long scene midway through film with Craig Sheffer in a pair of blue boxers and Terrence Stamp in a pair of shorts (apparently not underwear, though). Stamp plays a sex expert who is attmepting to help Sheffer through marital difficulties with his wife. Both characters are straight, but there is an undeniable homosexual undercurrent in this scene.

Blood Ties (1991) (TV) One of the London twins (Jeremy or Jason) getting out of bed in black tee shirt, white jockeys, another scene in white jockeys, a scene with male vampires in underwear.

Bloodbrothers (1978) Tony Lo Bianco - white A-shirt, white briefs; Richard Gere - white briefs.

Bloodsport (1988) Jean Claude Van Damme getting into some nice maroon bikini briefs.

Blown Away (1994) Action thriller. Bomb squad officer Forest Whitaker, relaxing in his underwear at home, finds himself trapped by a booby-trap bomb while colleagues work to disarm it. I think he was wearing a black T-shirt and pale blue boxers. Reminiscent of Danny Glover's pants-down-on-the-john predicament in Lethal Weapon 2 (1989) but not played for laughs.

Blue Collar (1978) Drama. Two scenes with Harvey Keitel - both in white jockey shorts, one with A-shirt too.

Blue Lagoon, The (1980) Christopher Atkins in loincloth for entire movie (several nude scenes - the first by a male in a mainstream movie).

Blue Streak (1999) Action comedy. Martin Lawrence plans to pretend to be a cop. Watching cops on TV at home, he practices his arrest technique - in his underwear. He wears a white undershirt, dark socks and green plaid boxer shorts.

Blue Velvet (1986) Dorothy forces Jeffrey (Kyle MacLachlan) to undress in front of her, all the way down to his underwear and socks. Even a butt naked scene too.

Blues Brothers 2000 (1998) Some drunk Russian mafia members are stripped down to their underwear and T-shirts, tied up with duct tape and left in an alley.

Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice (1969) Long scene of Robert Culp in briefs in bedroom with Natalie Wood.

Body Shots (1999) Drama. Some underwear as boy and girl strip each other in a bedroom scene

Boogie Nights (1997) Drama. "We see Eddie (Mark Wahlberg) in his underwear and he feels his scrotum".

Book of Love (1990) Keith Coogan and others in white briefs measuring themselves.

Boston Blackie In Chinatown Chester Morris. Gets knocked out by gangsters who steal his clothes, leaving him in his boxers and A-shirt, shoes, socks and garters.

Bounce (2000) Ben Affleck in his boxers, in bed with a woman.

Bowfinger (1999) Comedy. Four actors auditioning as Eddie Murphy body doubles are seen from behind, lined up with their pants down, in various underwear - white, patterned and coloured briefs, and plaid boxers.

Boys, The (1997/I) Drama. Guy casually around the house in his sweatshirt and red briefs.

Boys and Girls (2000) Comedy/romance. Hunter (Jason Biggs) in his boxers after an implied sex scene, and during the closing credits, modeling some cheetah print boxers.

Boys in Company C, The (1978) AN ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC SCENE has David Morse, Andrew Stevens and other hot actors who are new recruits they are all wearing white T-shirts and white briefs. A MUST SEE.

Boys Next Door, The (1986) (Big Shots) Exploitation flick, directed by Penelope Spheeris and starring Maxwell Caulfield and Charlie Sheen as teenage psychos. In one scene, they're in a motel room, watching TV in their underwear and white socks.

Boys of Cellblock Q, The (1992) Out & About Productions, comedy, shot on video. Georgeous hunks in white briefs in much of the movie. Very hot.

Boyz N the Hood (1991) Drama. Momentary glimpses of Laurence Fishburne in his undershirt and boxer shorts, getting out of bed to scare off a burgler, and Cuba Gooding, Jr, running away, pants falling down, before his girlfriend's grandmother catches them together.

Break, The (1995) Ben Jorgenson in white briefs and tied to the bed posts.

Breaking the Rules (1992) C. Thomas Howell - gets the covers pulled off the bed while he’s sleeping to reveal him only wearing white briefs. Shot from overhead - it’s a hot scene.

Brewster’s Millions (1945) Dennis O’Keefe in white boxers, A-shirt and garters, is kept from putting his clothes on while aboard his personal yacht.

Brewster's Millions (1985) Comedy. Creditors arrive to repossess everything Richard Pryor has - including the clothes he's wearing. He takes his pants off, revealing his pale blue monogrammed boxer shorts.

Bride of Chucky (1998) Comedy/horror. "Tiffany handcuffs a friend -- who's down to his black underwear -- to her bed."

Brief Exchange, HIS-Video, XXX Tanner Reeves, and others, the ‘plot’ is a rather shallow one, one of the guys is collecting and showing underwear and swimwear, which gives rise to a couple of really hot scenes. The amazing thing with this video is that underwear always plays an important part in these heavy sexual episodes.

Broadway Melody, The (1929) Charles King, in full-cut polka dot boxer shorts, has a heated confrontation with Bessie Love and Anita Page in this early Academy Award winner.

Brothers McMullen, The (1995) Comedy. Ed Burns in white tee shirt and full cut patterned boxers; his brother in white athletic undershirt and full cut patterned boxers as well.

Brown's Requiem (1998) Thriller. At the very start of the movie, a black guy in white boxer shorts and undershirt runs out to a parking garage to try and stop his car being taken. Quickly beaten in a fight, there's a very clear shot of him on the ground, and his underwear looks like it might have been altered with scissors. Also, lead character Fritz Brown (Michael Rooker) in a scene near the end, emerging from the ocean in his white briefs and socks.

Buck Privates (1941) Abbott and Costello and a group of other young men are drafted - and line up for their army physical exam in boxers of all types.

Bull Durham (1988) Kevin Costner is ironing his pants, wearing white trim-cut boxers with a side slit, when in barges Susan Sarandon for a confrontation. Also, Tim Robbins in white briefs and blue and white striped bikinis.

Bulldog Breed, The (1960) Comedy. Norman Wisdom for some reason running around a battleship in his underwear, pushing everyone overboard.

Bulldog Drummond in Africa (1938) John Howard starred as Bulldog Drummond, British Detective, in a number of serialized shorts. Humor often played a part. Never more so than when his bride to be took all the trousers out of his estate to assure he'd not be distracted into taking another case. Bulldog Drummond in Africa opens with Howard stuck at home in his suit jacket, shirt and tie, boxers, gartered socks and shoes. His butler (in long drawers) is also without pants, as is the best friend Bulldog calls on the phone. (This is the excellent silent film star Reginald Denny, who lost his pants in such silents as "Skinner's Dress Suit" among others).

Bullets Over Broadway (1994) Comedy. Middle-aged stage actor (Jim Broadbent) has an interrupted tryst with the leading lady and has to flee down the fire escape in his voluminous boxer shorts. On the street, he runs into theatergoers who engage him in a discussion of the play.

Buona Sera, Mrs. Campbell (1968) Comedy. Gina Lollobrigida's boyfriend jumps out of bed in his white boxers.

Buster and Billy ?

Bustin' Loose (1981) Comedy/drama. Richard Pryor, beaten at strip poker by some kids, ends up a little embarrassed in his long, red underwear. Later, awakened in the middle of the night, he gets out of bed in a white V-neck T-shirt and high-cut red briefs, and walks about a little dazed for a bit.

Butterflies Are Free (1972) Edward Albert in trim-cut boxers.

[story-weavr]

Jerome Peregrine White

Jerome Peregrine White was the eldest son of Perry & Alice White.

His father was often absent due to Perry’s dedication to his career. Alice was a soft & constant presence. At times, the small family struggled financially. There have also been moments where Alice had to wake little Jerry up in the dead of night to go to a relative’s house until her husband called to say it was safe.

The situation at home gradually improved as Perry rose up the ranks of the Daily Star, eventually becoming editor-in-chief of the newly named Daily Planet. By that time, the couple had two more sons, Richard & Hank.

At that point, Jerry was going through a rebellious phase; unhappy with his father’s preoccupation with his job. He would often go to clubs in a bad part of the city. This worried his mother but attempts by either herself or Perry were met with anger.

Then one day, something truly terrible happened. Jerry was kidnapped. Kidnapped by gang members, they threatened Perry that if he didn’t retract an article he wrote of a crime lord posing as a Suicide Slums landlord they would kill Jerry.

In minutes, the gang was attacked by another. Jerry managed to get away in the confusion. Scared, he returned home to his tearful parents.

Later, he woke up & went downstairs. Unsurprisingly, his father was still up & on the phone. What was a surprise was what Perry White snarled into the phone.

That was the night Jerry White found out his father wasn’t his father. His real father, the infamous Lionel Luthor, was in control of the gang who had actually rescued him.

The young man became even more withdrawn, his anger that he used as a shield now replaced by a sorrowful aura. His parents assumed it was trauma due to the kidnapping.

Jerry questioned his identity & felt lost. One day, as he was brooding, he saw something familiar. A couple of men were driving a truck labeled for a fertilizer company. Jerry recognized those men as belonging to Lionel’s gang.

Jerry discreetly followed the truck on his bike. The truck stopped at a warehouse where men started unloading.

While Jerry observed, one of the bags fell. Guns spilled out. The young man felt sick.

Then, chaos occurred. A hooded man got the jump on the gang and started beating them up.

At first, it looked like he was winning but then reinforcements showed up. Seeing the man outnumbered, Jerry raced in on his bike. Managing to knock over several enemies, the young man with the black helmet yelled for the others to get on.

After a race through the Suicide Slums & other areas, the two managed to lose their pursuers.

Later, the vigilante those of the slums called Gangbuster introduced himself. Jose Delgado would become a mentor and second father to Jerry White.

With a new purpose, Jerry & Jose investigated Intergang, deterring them as best they could. The younger of the two realized they would need more help.

Jerry’s biker gang started small but it grew bigger as the investigations drew deeper into the criminal underbelly. Particularly when they finally came into contact with Cadmus and their inhuman experiments on people.

Members included Yango “Wild”, Jude “Hippie”, & Lucy “Diamond”. There were also auxiliary members.

Their go-to mechanic: owner of Lexor, Lex Jerome Luthor aka “Atom”.

Needless to say, it was awkward between the two brothers. But they soon became very close.

Enough so that Mockingbird and his lover, Clark “Ace”, sometimes help out on missions.

Clark’s nickname should have been “Oscar” or “Chameleon” given how scarily good he is at acting and infiltrating places.

But then, one day, Jerry “Cobra” White met his match.

Investigating rumors of drugs and human trafficking, Jerry went undercover at the nightclub, Blaze’s.

What should have been routine, business as usual, ended with the funeral of Jerome Peregrine White.

Over a decade later, Metropolis saw the rise of the mysterious Spencer Blaze. Owning several nightclubs and strip joints, Mr. Blaze’s establishments catered to every level of Metropolis. There were even rumors that several of his businesses were actually covers for services of the more carnal variety.

The more magically inclined denizens of Metropolis and the world, however, knew of the upstart demon lord who managed to supplant an ancient demoness. His army of lesser demons and connections with both the mortal & supernatural worlds made him a dangerous foe and valuable ally.

Few knew which side they fell. Of those few, they strongly suspected which side depended entirely on Blaze’s whims.

[poshfind]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Tail White Label Museum Chevron Print 18.5" Straight Skort 12.

[jazzmarketing]

Discover Beaumont on a Winter Mountain Bike Adventure With Tom Parsons

Preparation There are other preparations to make for biking in the cold winter weather. For instance, you should check your bike's condition for winter and ensuring that you lubricate the moving parts and adjust the tire pressure accordingly in addition to making sure to pack snacks and water. The cold weather demands that you dress accordingly. Tights, a base layer, jersey, vest, and jacket are essential together with warm gloves, an assortment of fleece or wool socks, and perhaps warm toes made of chemical. Test out your gear before you go out to ensure that you are comfortable and won't overheat or freeze.

Parsons still competes at the track in front of his Citra home. He also has a home in Gainesville, but he says that he'll compete and continue performing his Moto X whips as long as he's in good health. The program is part the exhibit Cycling in New York City : A 200 Year Story, which will remain on display until October 14, 2019. This program will be led by Tara Parsons, a former champion cyclist and coach for women's cyclists. Equipment The appropriate winter bike can make or break your experience. The right clothing, a top-quality bike, and heated gear will help you have fun in the great outdoors, even when temperatures dip to below zero. First, you'll stop at one of the culdesacs in downtown Beaumont where there are a dozen murals of David Cargill and a statue of Winning. You can then head to Civic Center where you will walk past the city's courthouse, as well as the 40-foot tall fountain that is located in the center of the Museum District. It is possible to enjoy an 3.5-mile bike ride in Gulf Terrace Park. You'll be able to glide past pedestrians and runners, stroll along the flowering pathways and wave hello to the horses that are grazing. There are also covered pavilions, as well as a place for picnics. Bring the family along to enjoy a memorable time. The paved pathway is accessible all year round and is free to use. Safety Mountain biking in winter is an exciting adventure that combines the excitement of conquering challenges and the beauty of the winter outdoors. In the beginning, it's a good idea to ride with a friend, as it provides an additional level of security in case of an emergency or unexpected obstacles. It's also important to check the weather conditions before you plan your trip. If the forecast calls for severe snow or freezing conditions, it's better to avoid riding your bicycle and instead take public transportation instead. From the BMX crews of the South Bronx to the brake-less alleycat racers who make up the Black Label Bicycle Club, we'll take a look at the wild cycle racing scene in NYC. Our guests include coach and former world-class cyclist Tara Parsons, and members of the Red Hook Criterium crew. The riders will share their experiences of riding bikes to gain independence and strength. The riders will also discuss their experiences in overcoming obstacles and how to manage risk. Video from YouTube

[nick-damiano]

Bike Kill 2017

[obsessedasusual]

Lonely No More - Six

Bishop Losa xOC Series

Series Summary: There was never a dull moment, being the only Reyes sister. But between overbearing brothers, being the family peacekeeper, and countless disaster dates, Amalia finds herself wishing she had someone to unwind with after a hectic day. Funnily enough, Bishop Losa wishes for the same thing.

Series Warnings: Swearing, mentions/allusions to sex, alcohol

Note: 2.7k - This makes up for the last upload I promise! I LOVED writing this chapter, THINGS ARE EVOLVING PEOPLE!! Oh Also!!! We get another season!! How good!? PPS - I couldn’t tag anyone in this for whatever reason so sorry if you’d asked!😩

It was late by the time Bishop found himself pulling into his driveway. 

‘Apparently not late enough for the Reyes sister to be asleep,’ he thought to himself, recalling a minute earlier when he’d rolled past her house on his routine check in and saw her through the window thanks to the inside lights illuminating the room for all to see, glass of wine in hand, content look on her face.

He was in a bad mood, his body ached and he could feel a headache coming on. After a day, even a week, of everything going wrong from the yard to the club, Bishop just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for the next two days.

Why did people not listen to him?

He was the fucking President for Christ’s sake.

With a heavy sigh he climbed off his bike, tugged off his helmet and made his way to his front door, stopping abruptly when he saw the gift bag filled with tissue paper waiting for him on his doormat.

He stared at it with furrowed eyebrows. His hesitancy wasn’t exactly misplaced. It wouldn’t be a huge stretch for him to find that the bag contained a severed finger.

Catching sight of a card poking out of the bag he made a slow move to retrieve it.

For your (appallingly) nicknackless home. Consider this your housewarming gift - years in the making!

~ Amalia x

Bishop couldn’t help the small, toothless smile that found its way to his lips while reading the note. He also couldn’t help the way he brushed his thumb over the surprisingly messy handwriting, paying special attention to the little ‘x’ right at the end.

With his curiosity beating out his prior desire to get inside, he knelt down and ruffled through the tissue paper until his hand came into contact with a cold metal.

Careful while pulling it free he let out a breathy chuckle when he saw what it was; a model Harley Davidson, matte black with handle bars that moved and tyres that spun. Complete with a working kickstand to support its weight.

Bishop couldn’t remember the last time he’d received a gift. Actually, that’s not completely true. He’d received a few at his wedding to Antonia, but that hardly counted.

After spending a moment in admiration he stood and placed the model back into the bag, stopping short when he heard the metal knocking against something else. Reaching his hand back into the bag he retrieved a bottle. A bottle of red wine, he realised upon further inspection. A yellow sticky note was stuck to the label.

You seem like a red wine kinda guy.

He wasn’t. Not really. He could enjoy a glass or two sure, but he was a beer guy. He’d never tell her that though. 

Bishop stared at the bottle in his hands, then turned to look down the street. Back to the bottle, back to the street.

He shouldn’t. 

Back to the bottle.

He should go inside and to bed. 

Back to the street.

But she was awake. At least, she was when he’d rode past. 

Back to the bottle.

Would it be weird? Probably.

He looked at his watch… 11:15ish.

Maybe he could just walk over, and if her lights were switched off he could just walk back.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he quickly unlocked his front door to place the bag holding his gift inside away from sticky fingers and then made his way off his porch and into the street, bottle of red in hand.

His boots felt decidedly heavier with every step he took. Why was he nervous? He was simply going around to his friend’s place for a drink and a chat. 

Were they friends? They’d spent a number of hours in each other’s presence of late, they’d even shared a meal. Surely they were friends. At least.

At least? 

Bishop could make an educated guess as to why he was a little nervous. Amalia had been occupying his thoughts for a little while now. He found himself looking for her ponytail at every club party. He gravitated towards her whenever she was around. He revelled in the slightest of touches.

Jesus Christ he was too old for this. What is this, high school?

In a lot less time than he’d hoped, Bishop found himself walking along the fence outside her property. The lights were still on.

As he drew closer he could make out her figure in the living room through the lacey day curtains, definitely still awake.

He could turn back now. Go home, shower, maybe have a drink by himself. She’d be none the wiser. 

Staring at the door in front of him he weighed up his options.

Fuck it.

He knocked and waited.

Inside, Amalia startled at the knock.

Who the hell was knocking on doors at this time of night? She stilled for a moment to see if she could hear anything further.

When she was met with silence she slowly rose from the couch to creep to the curtain and peer outside, as discreetly as possible incase… incase of burglars? Burglars wouldn’t knock, right?

She was half expecting one of her brothers, drunk off their ass and needing a place to crash. So she was incredibly surprised to see a lone President on her doorstep. The smile that appeared on her face couldn’t be halted as she moved from the living room to the front door, swinging it open with too much enthusiasm for this time of night.

“Bish!” she beamed. The man in question was admittedly a little taken aback by her happy tone but grinned at her nonetheless, holding up the bottle in his hands as an offering.

“Fancy a glass of red?” he tried. He basked in the way she smiled at him and the bottle in recognition.

“You got my gift! Come in!” She had already had a glass or two herself so was perhaps more ecstatic than usual at her visitor. 

Stepping aside to open the door wider, she watched as Bishop followed her in, toeing his boots off clumsily before shrugging his kutte off.

“I saw you were up when I went past earlier, hope I’m not keeping you, sweetheart.” he was completely ready to be told to come back another day, at a more appropriate time, when he felt a gentle smack to the shoulder as Amalia scowled.

“I’m alone on a Wednesday with no work tomorrow,” she began as she walked toward the kitchen, Bishop following close behind, “you are most welcome to join me.”

Grabbing a wine glass from a high cupboard she poured him a generous helping, “You know, I wasn’t hinting at being the one to drink this when I left it on your doorstep.”

He smirked at her bubbliness, “No one else I’d rather share it with, querida.” 

She turned her head quickly, but not quick enough for Bishop to miss the shy smile that adorned her face.

Handing her visitor the glass she tried her best to fight the heat that threatened her cheeks when their fingers touched, distracting herself by filling her own and turned to cheers him, “To wine!”

“To wine.” He repeated, clinking her glass and taking a long sip. Amalia nodded toward the living room.

“Come on, I’m watching Dirty Dancing.”

An impromptu movie night was not what Bishop had expected when he’d knocked on his infatuation’s door, but he was by no means complaining.

“Patrick Swayze a dream of yours?” He teased as he sat near her on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them.

Her head snapped towards him in excitement, “You know Dirty Dancing?”

Bishop gave her a dumb look, “Sweetheart, do you realise how old this movie is?”

Her eyes squinted in contemplation before she pouted and nodded in understanding, “Suppose you have a point.”

With the film playing in the background Amalia studied Bishop’s side profile, watching the movie, sipping red wine and nibbling on popcorn every now and then. 

As if feeling her gaze on him he turned to meet her eyes, smiling that smile he couldn’t help when he was around her, “What?”

Amalia pursed her lips when she realised she’d been caught and shook her head quickly, “Nothing! It’s just… I never imagined you being someone who could spend the evening doing something so… domesticated.”

His eyebrows raised at her admission and she quickly found herself backtracking, “Not that, you can’t! You’re not like an undomesticated person or anything. It’s just, you know. You’re this badass biker and you��re here. With me,” she paused to take a sip of wine, “it’s nice.”

It was Bishop’s turn to hide his shy smile. It was nice.

“I can be nice.”

She nodded at him, fondly, “I’ve noticed.”

They turned back to the movie for a moment before she decided to continue the conversation, “So… did you find anything else on your doorstep this evening?”

“A card with very messy handwriting.” He deadpanned.

Amalia threw her head back in laughter, “It’s not that bad!”

Bishop chuckled with her, “It’s not great, sweetheart.” He held up his hand as she went to defend herself between laughs, “But I do love my new nicknack. Very fitting. Thank you. You really didn’t have to.” He was as genuine as he had ever been and Amalia was thrilled.

“I know but I wanted to.” She shrugged, smiling at him still. 

After a prolonged, comfortable moment passed between them Amalia spoke up again, “So! How’s club life treating you this week, Mr President.”

He thought about his answer for a moment. It truly had been a week from hell, and it was only half over.

A load of “goods” had been caught at the border due to a bad decision on the club’s part - a bad decision on Angel’s part if he had to get into specifics, but as the leader, Bishop wore it. The cartel wasn’t happy. In fact, the cartel was pissed.

He didn’t want to offload on her though and tell her that he was beyond stressed so he settled with, “It’s been a long week.” and a gentle smile.

Amalia frowned at his answer. She knew she wasn’t privy to all the goings on of the cub, and quite frankly she’d very much like it to stay that way, but she wanted to be a listening ear for Bishop who was obviously going through it.

“You wanna talk about it?” she offered with kind eyes, discarding the now empty bowl of popcorn to the carpet and pulling her legs up on the sofa, hugging them to her chest.

The small, barely there smile he shot her way had her stomach rolling, “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’m a big boy.”

Yes, you are.

The laugh that Bishop barked out had Amalia’s eyes widen like saucers as she realised she’d spoken out loud. Very out loud. Cheeks burning in embarrassment she closed her eyes to regain her composure.

“Glad you think so, sweetheart.” he teased as he reached out to pat her shin lightly, the touch sending more butterflies to her stomach. 

Deciding to play off her slip of words she cleared her throat, “But you’re okay though? I know it can’t be easy. Being in charge and all. You’re sleeping and eating well?” She couldn’t help her caretaker nature.

After her mom passed Amalia was the only one capable of ensuring the wellbeing of her family. It was ridiculous, and a little sexist if she thought too hard about it, but it came naturally to her.

Bishop admired her for a beat. Always so willing to jump in and help wherever she could. Making sure everyone around her was taken care of and comfortable. He hoped she was doing the same for herself.

“I promise I’m okay, querida.” he said with a nod, lying through his teeth. Any sleep he got was minimal and not enough to recharge. As for eating, well… he ate. Probably nothing of decent substance or nutrition but food was food.

She didn’t seem entirely convinced but didn’t want to push the older man so instead she nodded, “Okay. But just so we’re clear you’re welcome here anytime. I’ve always got leftovers. And plenty of food. And I’m a good listener if you ever want to just talk. It helps sometimes.”

God did he want to talk to her. Everyday if he could. The more time he spent around her the more he wondered how he’d made it this far with such little to do with her.

“Thank you, querida,” he nodded, “and I mean that.”

She simply gave him a friendly smile and turned back to the movie, giggling lightly at Baby dancing on the bridge.

The movie passed with little bits of commentary from the pair over another glass of red. Bishop relaxed more into the sofa, insanely comfortable with the warmth of Amalia’s shoulder pressed against his.

When the credits finally rolled on the screen Bishop turned his head to see the Reyes sister yawning into her palm.

“You need to go to bed, sweetheart. You’ll hurt your neck if you fall asleep here.” The concern in his voice had her smiling tiredly in defeat.

“Do you wanna stay here? I have a spare bed.” she offered, almost sad for their time to come to an end. While he considered it, and desperately wanted to say yes, he knew there was no logical reason to do so when he lived two minutes down the road.

Shaking his head he replied, “Thanks sweetheart, but I’ve got an early morning, can’t be waking you up at that hour.”

“I don’t mind.” she rubbed at her tired eyes and Bishop found himself stuck for words, did she want him to stay the night? No. She was just being her usual polite self.

He stood slowly and took her arm to pull her up gently as well, “Not tonight, but thank you.” he repeated.

The multiple glasses of wine plus her tiredness aided her as she went willingly as he tugged her gently out of the living room, flicking the lights off as he went.

“You capable of putting yourself to bed or do I have to tuck you in?” he said good-humouredly.

Amalia’s cheeks burned at the question, “I’m good. Maybe next time.”

Next time.

Bishop stopped at the front door, picking up his previously discarded kutte and turned to face his host, “Go to bed. And thank you for tonight, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

Bishop’s resolve almost completely went out the window when he saw the way she was peering up at him through her eyelashes, “Promise?”

Finding himself lost for words for a second time that evening Bishop simply nodded.

Amalia grinned. And then stepped forward to wrap her arms around Bishop’s middle. 

Frozen in his spot, he felt her sigh against his chest before he slowly wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, holding her to him tightly.

“Goodnight, Bishop.” she mumbled into his shirt.

Tilting his head to press a kiss to her head he replied, “Goodnight, Amalia.”

The use of her real name felt almost foreign in his mouth, but not unwelcome.

She pulled out of his hold slowly, as if she wasn’t ready to give up his warmth and smiled lazily up at him, eyes flicking over his facial features - stopping briefly on his lips - before meeting his eyes again, “Goodnight.”

If he didn’t leave soon he would definitely end up staying, pushing gently at her shoulders to give him space he ran a hand down her arm to grasp her own hand, giving it a warm squeeze in parting, “Night.” he all but whispered.

And then he used all his willpower to actually turn and leave the house, looking back over his shoulder as he went down the path. He grinned when he caught her gaze following his movements and shot her a wink before completely turning to face the street.

Bishop wasn’t in a bad mood anymore.

And maybe he wasn't alone in his infatuation.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Mi Rosa

Fandom: Marvel (Biker/Flower Shop AU)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x F!Reader

Summary: Joaquin comes across a new flower shop in town. He finds himself coming back every week and that's because he's interested in one particular flower: you.

Tagging: @saintbvcky @xbuchananbarnes

A/N: i might end up turning this into a drabble series. nothing too big

Your back was turned to the door as you were looking through a box of labels. You heard the bell above the door ring and then a whistle.

You turn around to see a Latino man about your age donning a leather jacket looking around the shop.

"Wow. Some shop you got here," the man compliments in amazement.

"Thanks!"

"This used to be a hole in the wall restaurant, right?"

"Yup! Then I took it off their hands, turned it into my little greenhouse shop! Welcome to Petals!"

The man, walked closer to you, the counter being the only thinking keeping you apart from him, "Thanks, uh," he peers at your name tag, "Y/N."

"Is there anything I can help you with..."

"Joaquin," the man gives his name and sticks out his hand.

You smile at him as you shake his hand, "Nice to meet you, Joaquin. Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Now that he was up closer to you, Joaquin could see how much more beautiful you were up close, and hearing you say his name lit a little warm flame inside him.

He let go of your hand and cleared his throat, running the same hand through his black curly locks, "Uh, well, my abue gave me an earful about not visiting lately. So I figured I'd get her some flowers so it could lessen the scolding I'll get when I see her." he shyly smiles at you and you giggle. Joaquin swears he heard an angel sing.

"Well, I'm sure your grandma would still love you no matter what kind of flowers you give her, but if you're looking for something pretty and to show that you're sorry, tulips are the way to go." you gesture for him to follow you through the store where there's rows and rows of different plants and flowers.

Joaquin watches as you pick a small bundle of tulips as well as some other flowers to compliment them. You take them to the counter and begin to gently wrap them in cellophane and a white ribbon, "Ta da!" you show the finished product to Joaquin.

"They're beautiful," he says in awe and then smiles at you, "But not as beautiful as you."

You feel your cheeks heat up and you clear your throat, "Um, th-thank you. That'll be twelve-fifty."

Joaquin fishes out a twenty and hands it to you, "Keep the change."

"Oh! Thanks."

You hold out the small bouquet to Joaquin and when he grabs it, his fingers brush against yours. You quickly pull your hands away and Joaquin just continues to stand there, smiling at you.

"Thanks, guess I'll see you around," he sends you a wink and turns around. You then see the big "A" patch embroidered onto the back panel of the leather jacket. "Torres" spelled out across his shoulders.

You gulped as you watched Joaquin hop onto his bike. The rev of the engine making your ears perk. You give a little wave as he glances back at you before he speeds down the street.

__________________

You see Joaquin again a week later. You're helping a couple pick out some plants for their new apartment when he comes in. You glance his way and he graces you with a heart stopping smile.

You feel your cheeks heat up and holler to him, "I'll be with you in a few!"

"Take your time," he replies with a grin and decides to walk around the shop, looking at the selection of plants and flowers you have out today.

After ringing up the couple, you go up to Joaquin, "Hey! Did your grandma like the flowers?"

He nods, "She loved him."

"So are you here for her again?"

"Actually, no. The VP of the bike club got engaged and they're holding an engagement party. I mentioned your shop, so I'm here on behalf of them to see if you're willing to do it."

"When's the engagement party?"

"Next month."

"I should be available. That gives me enough time to order anything they specifically want." you pull out a business card from your pocket and hold it out to Joaquin, "Have them call me or stop by the shop so we can talk specifics!"

He grabs it and looks down at the number on it, "So is this your personal number or-"

"The number to my shop. Why? You want my personal number?" you ask with a smirk.

He grins and gives a shrug, "I mean, it'd be good to have your number. You know, in case of emergencies."

You giggle, "Yeah. Just in case your grandma gets upset with you again."

"Exactly!" Joaquin pulls out his phone and offers it to you, "So?"

You playfully roles your eyes and take the phone, typing in your number, "Fine, but only because of your grandma. Not because I'd want you to call me for a date or anything." You hand him back his phone and he looks down. He immediately pushes "Call" and holds the phone to his ear. Your personal phone starts to ring and, keeping eye contact with Joaquin, you answer it.

"Yes?"

"Wanna go on a date?"

You laugh, ending the call, "Yeah. I'm free after seven every day."

"Tomorrow night?"

"Eager, aren't we?" you ask with a smirk.

He gives you a shrug, "Guess you can call it that. So?"

"Tomorrow night, but we're not taking your bike. They scare me."

He gasps, hand on his heart, "You wound me, Rosa."

You cock your head to the side in curiosity, "Rosa?"

"You're beautiful as one, but also, you have a wit that's sharp as thorns."

"I'm honored."

A silence falls over the two of you, but it's not an awkward. Joaquin licks his lips and clears his throat, "I should probably go. Gotta let my VP know your reply. I'll call you later tonight to hash out the details for tomorrow."

"You got it!" you give him a salute as you escort him towards the door. You keep it open with your body, watching as he straddles his bike, shooting you a wink before he pulls on his helmet and speeds away.

[missmcspooks]

UNSOLVED But Not Forgotten: The Murder of Amy Mihaljevic

This abduction and murder case of a 10 year old girl received national attention and over 30 years later, it still remains unsolved. 

Amy Renee Mihaljevic was born on December 11th, 1978, in Little Rock, Arkansas. Her parents were named Margaret and Mark, and she also had an older brother named Jason, and eventually the family moved to Bay Village, Ohio. Amy was very independent, brave, outgoing, and just very friendly and always wanted to talk to everyone, she was a very trusting girl. She also loved nature and animals, especially horses. She was very smart and was in the gifted program at her school. Amy and Jason would always come home from school before her parents returned from work, so they always had a couple hours alone in the home. This wasn’t uncommon back in the 80’s, especially since their town was very safe and no one really had to worry about anything happening in that area. Amy and Jason were even allowed to go out and play with their friends until the street lights came on. Amy had a best friend named Kristen, and the two were always together and spending time with each other. Kristens parents said they were like an adopted daughter to them, because she was always at their house and they loved having her over. In the summer of 1989, they decided to start a “babysitters club” and handed out flyers with their names and phone numbers on it. Obviously this wasn’t something they were really going to partake in as they were only in 5th grade, but it was just a fun activity to do at the time. Amy and Jason attended the Bay Village middle school, and in that school the older kids got out an hour later than the younger kids, so every day Amy would get out of school at 2:05 and would go home alone until her brother came home at 3:05. Neither of them took the bus to and from school, as they both preferred to ride their bikes, especially since it was such a short ride. 

On Friday October 27th, 1989, Amy left for school wearing a light green sweatsuit and a white windbreaker, along with black riding boots, turquoise horse head earrings, and was carrying her backpack which had a black notebook inside labeled with “best in class.” Something different happened that day at school, which if you think about it, is very creepy considering what happens to Amy later that day. On this day, a police officer from Bay Village County came in to talk to the students about “Stranger Danger” and expressed to the students not to talk to strangers and how dangerous it could be. Amy would normally come home straight after school, but on this particular day she had told her mom that she’d be staying late to audition for the school choir. However, that was a lie, and there were no choir auditions happening that day. Amy had told her friends that she had received a call from a man who told her that he worked with her mother and she had just received a huge promotion and wanted to get her a gift, but he didn’t know what to get for her, and he needed her help to pick something out. He also told her that she couldn’t tell her about this because it was a surprise. So after school, Amy and her friends left their bikes in the parking lot and walked down to the Bay Square Shopping Center located in Bay Village, where they got ice cream at Baskin Robins. This shopping center was very close to the school, and since it was so close, Amy thought she could go there, meet up with this man, and help him with the gift and get home quickly. During an interview with her mother Margaret, she explains that she always taught her kids the dangers of talking to strangers and how to keep themselves safe, and she said Amy knew to never talk to anyone or go off with anyone, or do anything without asking for permission first. However, that all went out the window when it came to making her mother happy. Amy was so close with her mother and would do anything to make her happy and to please her, so when this man told her he needed help with something for her mother, she agreed to it. Margaret said it was her caring and loving heart that was her downfall. After her friends left, Amy went and stood next to a light pole between 2:15 and 3:20PM and was approached by the man from the phone call. The two were seen by witnesses having a brief conversation before walking off together and leading Amy into his vehicle, and that was the last time she was ever seen alive. This man was described as someone who looked like he could’ve been her dad, but it wasn’t her dad as he was out of town at the time. 

Amy and Jason were both responsible for calling their mother when they got home to let her know they were home safely. When Jason got home at 3:10, he noticed Amy wasn’t home, so he called up his mom to let her know. Margaret told him not to worry about it because she was staying late at school for choir auditions. Around 30 minutes later, she had received a call from Amy saying that she was home and everything was okay. Back then they didn’t have called ID, so she had no idea where this call was coming from, so she naturally assumed that she was calling from the house. Two hours later she returned home from work and Amy wasn’t home, and she immediately started to panic. She called up all the friends in the neighborhood, went to the neighbors houses, drove around town and even went to the school to see if Amy was still there. When she got to the school, Amy wasn’t there, but her bike was… and that’s when she knew something really bad had happened to her daughter, and she called the police. 

THE INVESTIGATION 

The authorities sprung into action immediately and really hit the ground running. Something like this was NOT normal or common where they lived, maybe for a 16 year old, but definitely not a child. This turned into a giant manhunt, and they had at least 150 officers looking for her, tons and tons of people in the community were walking around through the woods and around town searching for her, the FBI was contacted within just a few hours after she was reported missing, and they even had the coast guard brought in to help search for her. This search was said to be the biggest search in Ohio since Beverly Potts disappeared in 1951. 

Once Amy’s friends started hearing about what was going on, they remembered what Amy told them about this strange man who was calling her. One of the girls told their mother about it, and that mother called Margaret and let her know what she was told. Margaret called the police and gave them the information. The next day another call came in from a different friend of Amy’s, with the exact same story. So now police knew how Amy first came into contact with the abductor, but they still didn’t have any information on who this man was or where he was taking her. It was difficult to conduct investigations back in the 1980’s and 1990’s due to technology not being up to par like it is in today’s world. Back then they couldn’t make telephone traces, they had no records regarding local phone calls, only long-distance calls, they didn’t really have many security cameras around town, so there wasn’t any CCTV footage to go off of, and all the police had to go off of were whatever witnesses were informing them of. Witnesses in the shopping center were able to describe how this man looked and helped them narrow down the time frame of when she was there and when she left, but that’s all they really knew. At least with that information they were able to figure out that she was with her abductor at 3:30 when she called her mother to tell her she was safe. 

The two different witnesses did their best to describe how this man looked, but they didn’t give the exact same type of information. They reported that he was a white male around 5’8 and 5’10, however one reported that he looked like he was between the age of 25-35, while the other says he was between 35-45. They also explained that he had dark hair and was possibly balding, however, one witness says he had glasses while the other did not. Therefore, the police had to make two different sketches of the man. The FBI Behavior Analyst Unit also put together a description of this man based on what his personality is most likely like. They stated that this man is likely socially marginalized, that he lived alone and moved around a lot, and that he held a semi-skilled job, but often job hopped. The police were also interested in any man who displayed any sudden changes in their personality or daily life, such as, excessive drinking or drug use, sudden finding of religion, being absent from work, going away on a sudden vacation, etc. 

The holidays came and went with no signs of Amy and no further information about where she was. The police questioned hundreds of people and had many suspects, however, they were all ruled out. Her parents started to lose hope, and they began to think that they were never going to see their daughter again. Sadly, their fears came true on February 8th, 1990, when Amy’s body was found in a field close to the road, off County Road 1181, Ruggles Township in rural Ashland County, Ohio. An autopsy was conducted and it was stated that Amy was likely killed within hours after her abduction, and her cause of death was from multiple stab wounds to her neck, and blunt force trauma to her head. There was also blood found in her underwear which makes police feel like she was likely sexually assaulted, but that has never been confirmed nor denied. The killer also took several items to keep as trophies, as Amy was found without her boots, earrings, denim backpack, and her notebook. 

Around 300 ft away from her body was a very dirty and old looking green curtain and blanket, which was of course taken in as evidence and examined. They found Amy’s DNA on this blanket, along with dog fur that matched the dog she had at home. Gold and tan fibers were also found on Amy’s body, which were consistent with Automotive Carpet that you’d find from General Motors. Tape was also found near her body which had three pieces of hair on it. The hair did not match Amy’s DNA or anyone in her family. The hair also didn’t have a hair follicle present, meaning it wasn’t pulled from the root. The reason it’s important to have this hair follicle is so police could try and track the DNA through CODIS, which they can’t do without it. Unfortunately, police were unable to find any evidence that pointed them directly to a suspect, and years would go by before they found any useful information to proceed with the investigation.

Years Later…

In 2006 the police released information to the public stating that other girls around Amy’s age were receiving strange phone calls by an unidentified man. During these calls, the girls were told that he wanted to get a gift for their mothers as a surprise, and invited them along on a shopping trip so they could help him. This obviously seems like the same man who took Amy, but thankfully none of the girls agreed to help this man. It’s unknown how long the police had this information, but it wasn’t made public knowledge until 2006. Police also found out that every single girl that was called by this unidentified man have all visited the Lake Erie Nature and Science Center, which logs the children's names and phone numbers in their entry book at the front desk. Amy also loved going to this center. The police couldn’t take the log book to review it for Amy’s name or to see if there’s any information about the suspect on that list, due to the Freedom of Information Act not applying to private foundations. Also, it’s sad to say, but the public's interest in the case began to dwindle once again at this point, so no one was really paying attention to it anymore. 

In late 2013, investigator Phil Torsney, who was the original lead investigator on this case, returned from his retirement to further work on Amy’s case. He stated that he believes Amy was taken out of Bay Village because the community was too dense and tight-knit for a murder to take place and no one knowing anything about it. He believes that she was killed in Ashland County, where her body was found, and that the killer was most likely very familiar with the area. In March of 2014, the FBI announced a reward of $25,000 for any information that could lead them to the suspect, and it was increased to $27,000 in 2015. The police also believe that if anyone can point out who the curtain and blanket belonged to that was found near Amy’s body, it could definitely put an end to this case. The blanket seemed like a very normal old blanket, but the curtain had a very specific stitched design on it. In 2018 the police were following a potential link between Robert Ivan Nichols, who was an identity thief (alias Joseph Newton Chandler III), and Amy’s murder, but he was ruled out.

In 2019, the biggest lead ever came in. On the 31st anniversary of finding Amy’s body, a woman (who remains unnamed), called the police to tell them that her ex-boyfriend, Dean Runkle, was a potential and most likely suspect of Amy Mihaljevic’s murder. She gave the police his description and explained his unusual behavior on the night she was abducted. She explained that her and her boyfriend were living about a mile and a half away from Bay Village Square (where Amy went missing), and he worked in this area and also had family he worked there as well, and even had a niece who was in the same grade as Amy. She explained that he did not come home from work on the night she was abducted, which was very unlike him. He had also called her around 10PM and asked her if there had been any news coverage about Amy Mihaljevic, and she had no idea what he was talking about. News coverage about her case didn’t really start happening until around 10:30-11PM, so how did he know about it yet before anyone else did? She also told them that they’ve been to Ashland County on several different occasions, and also fit the description of the sketches of how he looked back in 1989. Dean also had a gold colored Oldsmobile that was registered in his name between 1989 and 1990, which is the same kind of car that Amy was most likely taken in, due to the gold and tan fibers on her body. Dean was also seen by witnesses around the area that the body was found, on the exact day that it was found. They found this out by placing a police car at the scene where she was found, and had them write down the plate number of every single car that came through the intersection that day. They did this because it’s very common for a killer to re-visit the scene of the murder, or the area where they dropped the body, so they could relive it and also witness the police coverage of the scene. Dean’s vehicle was one of the vehicles that came through the intersection that day, and he didn’t really have any reason as to why he was in the area at that time. 

Things become more strange when Dean walks into the police station by himself and willingly talks to the police, and started making strange statements about Amy’s murder and even about her mother, claiming that he thinks he had worked with her mom at some point, or that he had met her at a bar sometime. He also claimed that if he had ever talked to Amy on the phone, it was because he thought he was talking to Margaret, and if he spoke to her on the phone some other time, it was because he called the wrong number and it just happened to be their number. He also told police that the years of 1989 and 1990 were two “very dark times in his life.” The police also questioned him about his vehicle and if Amy had ever been in it. He responded with, “Okay… But I don’t know what the situation would’ve been.” No one even knows what that means. It’s like he was stating that she may have been in his car, but she also may not have been in his car. It was clear that he was toying with the police, especially after being asked if it was possible for his DNA to be on any of the evidence that was gathered at the crime scene, to which he responded with, “yeah, it’s possible that my DNA could be on some items at the crime scene. But if it is, it’s because someone else planted it there.” During the second day of questioning, Dean agreed to give police his DNA for testing, and also agreed to a polygraph test, which he failed. It’s unknown what the questions to the polygraph were, but a failed polygraph test is also not enough evidence to make an arrest, as the results are not liable in court. 

The next day he was supposed to come in again and sign paperwork giving the police permission to search his storage unit, but he never came in. They were able to obtain a warrant anyway and began searching his storage unit, and took some items in for evidence, but those items were never made public. In the end, Dean has never been arrested due to not having enough evidence, and is now 65 years old. Police are hoping to one day gather enough hard evidence to arrest this man and get justice for Amy and her family, as it’s very clear that he was the man who took her life away. Amy’s parents ended up getting divorced two years after her murder due to the stress of the situation, and her drinking problem that she picked up to cope with her loss. Her mother Margaret had also sadly passed away at age 54 in 2001 due to being diagnosed with Lupus.

[serenityiskey]

Winds of Change (Warning: potential spoilers)

"I think that will do it for tonight. Remember, we have test number three next Monday and it will cover the last three chapters that we discussed this month. I put the study guide up on the website, so I expect great marks from you all." Eddie spoke with a raised brow at his students as they packed their things to leave the classroom. To answer your question, dear reader, yes, Eddie did graduate high school. Not only did he get his high school diploma, He went to college and managed to get his doctorate degree in Game Design and mathematics. You see, after Eddie and the others came back after defeating Vecna, Eddie took his predicament as a wakeup call to stop fumbling around and seize the day.

"Dr. Munson, why did you decide to get your degree in Game Design?" one student asked as she looked up from putting her binder in her backpack. "I didn't originally plan on getting a degree at all actually" Eddie laughed as he leaned back in his office chair with his black curly hair tied back into a low ponytail "I used to think that I would never make it this far and I would have ended up in prison like my father." he shrugged and put his leather boots on his desk and he smiled softly as he looked at his old tattoos that were covered by his black button up that he often wore to teach. "I was a rather reckless and rambunctious kid" he chuckled as he remembered his high school days "I would sell common party drugs behind the high school and I was often made fun of just because I did not conform to the rest of the community's agenda of the white picket fence life. I wasn't that far off from what they wanted, I had a chain linked fence instead of a wooden one." The student smiled as she listened to her professor's words. "You were involved in the Hawkins Earthquake weren't you?" she asked as she sat back down in her desk and listened to the rest of his story. "I was, and I actually played a rather unfair part in it too. When the mysterious murders were happening, they blamed me for them just because they already thought of me as the town satanist and freak." Eddie nodded and played with his skull ring. "But you're nothing at all like that. Were people really that mean back then?" she exclaimed and Eddie looked at her with a soft smile "Every single person of this earth can have the nicest clothes and the brightest smile, but it will never be enough to cover up their hatred for the little guys."

The student nodded and she smiled as she stood up. "I appreciate the story, I just always found you to be really.. interesting because you're nothing like the other professors." Eddie laughed at this and he stood up before grabbing his shoulder bag and he walked to the door "And I will never be like them either, kid, no one is meant to be like the person next to them. we wouldn't have personalities if we all looked and acted the same." The student nodded and she looked at him with intrigued eyes before putting her back on your shoulders "That's true, I never thought about it that way. See you later, Dr. Munson"

Eddie waved and said goodbye before going to his bike with a sigh as he sat on the seat and leaned on the handlebars as he looked at the pictures of the rest of the Hellfire club throughout the years with a smile. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas had started their sophomore year of college, and Erika had just entered her senior year of high school. What happened to Gareth and Jeff? Gareth had finally gotten married and is expecting their second baby by June. As for Jeff, Jeff now runs his own music label company called "Hellfire Records" and is one of the top rock music labels in the industry which couldn't make Eddie any prouder of Jeff and Gareth. "I'll forever miss you little lambs" he chuckled to himself as he looked at their high school club photo from 86' and finally locked his phone before starting his motorcycle to go home. Sometimes, the winds of change carry good things to those in need of a new start, and Eddie was one of those in need.

A/N: Sorry for the word vomit! this idea has been BOILING in my mind for days now and I decided that Eddie deserves to prove Hawkins wrong for their judgmental views of him. I really hope you all enjoyed it and thank you for reading!)))))

[findingmarvinchavez]

Flowers in the Concrete

mayans mc au. three first meetings. biker eddie/odd job worker buck. rated m for a brief instance of physical assault (not between buck and eddie). 3.4 k. mostly fluff with a smidge of angst.

Two guys, each on the run from his own past, wash up in unlikely Santo Padre, aka bumfuck nowhere. This is the story of three chance meetings that might just be the breath of fresh air they've both been missing, a connection found without actually looking for it.

read on ao3.

Was my heart beatin' in my chest? And was I even alive before the day we met?

Evan Buckley had left home on a quest to get as far away from there and everything he was leaving behind as possible. How his series of odd jobs had brought him to the small town of Santo Padre, also known as bumfuck nowhere, however, was a mystery even to him.

It was not as if  Buck had expected any sort of glorious wild west experience from working as what the newspaper ad had labeled a  "hardy vineyard worker.” Apart from a handful of coffee shops, three of which were more like corner stores that offered outside seating, for daytime leisure and a couple of sketchy dive bars for a night out, this town really was a case of dust and crickets. Young people mostly seemed to flee the place as fast as they could and if they didn't manage that, they resigned to a life without any real prospects just as quickly.

Of course that was just the general drift and like everywhere, Santo Padre was home to its very own kinds of life, to people worth meeting, and places that were unlike anywhere else Buck had been before. He had found his favorite corner store where he spent his afternoons off drinking Tommy's strong filter coffee, black and with lots of sugar, whiling away long hours in the Californian sun. Sometimes Marj, who tended the nicest bar around most nights, joined him and sometimes she brought a couple of friends. 

Today, however, Buck was sitting accompanied only by his coffee cup and an unnervingly colorful tabloid newspaper. He half-heartedly told himself that he was reading stuff like this on occasion to keep up with the outside world at least at some level, but the truth was that he enjoyed the senseless drama from time to time.

He was deep into a frighteningly detailed article on Chryssi Teigen's journey through pregnancy and motherhood when the roar of tuned motorcycle engines made him look up and across the street.

There they were, the representatives of another one of the scarce career options available in Santo Padre: the local branch of the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle club. Every now and then, these guys (Buck had the impression that only guys were allowed to ride with the crew) would pull up dramatically in front of an establishment and two or three would enter it looking like they meant business while the rest would wait out front on their rides just asserting presence or whatever their task out there was.

In any case, Buck rarely had the opportunity to study them as closely yet inconspicuously as today. There were just four of them, and two had already vanished into the butcher shop across the street. Of the other two, one was typing away at his phone furiously, oblivious to the outside world, which left the fourth guy to pass the time just lounging on his bike, scanning the street occasionally but mostly just looking at nothing in particular. He was wearing dark sunglasses though, so Buck couldn't be sure if he had his eyes closed when he was just doing nothing.

Actually, he was trying to determine just that when the biker suddenly seemed to sense that someone was watching him. Buck was so intent on the man's frankly very handsome face that he failed to look away before the other's searching gaze met his own. In a futile attempt to salvage the situation, Buck hid his face behind his newspaper. Only to realize that presenting the current Us Weekly cover to the guy who had caught him staring was pretty much the opposite of preserving his dignity. Exasperated with himself, Buck sighed and slowly lowered the newspaper again. He just caught the other man turning away from him. Buck thought he was smirking, but actually not in an unpleasant way. A little self-assured, maybe, but the man didn't look annoyed or even particularly judgemental.

He had turned to greet his biker friends as they emerged from the butcher shop. Without much fuss, all four of them got ready to ride off. Sunglasses guy, as Buck had baptized him, didn't make any more motion toward Buck, so Buck felt safe as he observed the gang's exit. Only for sunglasses guy, who rode at the end of the formation, to turn and look straight at Buck as the group passed the corner shop. Buck might have felt more annoyed about this next faux-pas if that man in his black leather jacket and black shirt and black jeans and his damn sunglasses, with his pretty face and wind-ruffled-yet-soft brown hair hadn't looked like a vision straight from a cheesy hollywood movie.

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There was really only the one grocery store in Santo Padre so that's where Eddie Diaz went to get his groceries. Today, as he turned the last corner toward the checkout aisle, Eddie found his way blocked by someone who he first registered as "tall". Next he took note of sun-kissed skin partially covered by a light green shirt that could have been either pastel or sun-bleached and then the face… A familiar face, currently expressing a mix of confusion, concentration, and something that resembled defeat. The tall guy was standing in front of the magazine stand and appeared to be studying the contents of the kids section with the utmost commitment. The setup was too good for Eddie to miss out on.

"No Us Weekly for you today?"

"I'm sorry, what…"

Following the tall guy's face journey as it went from startled to confused to surprised was worth the cheap shot at starting a conversation, Eddie found.

"Oh… Right. I'm just, so I'm actually supposed to pick up a magazine for my employer’s… uh… daughter. So that's why…"

Tall guy finished his sentence by vaguely gesturing toward the variety of kids' magazines. For some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, Eddie didn’t feel like letting the other man off the hook just yet, so he decided to push his luck just a little further.

"Yeah. I'm afraid I'm no help here. Maybe if we were talking gossip magazines…"

"About that… I didn't mean to stare the other day. Sorry.”

Eddie wondered how a grown man could possibly make the boyish apologetic smile that tall guy gave him seem as genuine as it did. And yet, watching that little duck of his head, shoulders drawing in just slightly, Eddie suspected that this one right here was usually pretty good at getting on people’s good sides, even when the offense was a little more serious than being caught staring. Not that eddie would let any of these whimsical observations show in his reply, though:

"I get it. There really isn’t much to look at around here most of the time."

There was a short pause in which both of them seemed to ponder the meaning of this statement. The store’s freezers hummed and some Tejano country tunes filled the air-conditioned space. Eddie moved to raise the half-filled shopping basket in his right hand.

“Anyway. I should probably leave you to your sacred duty. I'm sure I'll see you around…”

Eddie made the last sentence sound like a question.

“Oh, Buck. I mean, it’s Evan Buckley, but people just call me Buck, usually.”

“Alright then, Buck. I'm Eddie. I'll see you around, Buck.”

“Yeah, see you around, Eddie.”

It took Buck a moment to realize he had to move for Eddie to be able to walk past him, so they parted with another somewhat awkward smile on each of their faces. It wasn’t the bad kind of awkward though, Eddie thought as he awaited his turn at the cash register. Having turned his attention back to the magazine stand, Buck stood with his back toward Eddie, giving Eddie the opportunity to be the one watching from a distance this time around. And he had to admit that he didn’t mind this new angle of otherwise deadbeat Santo Padre at all.

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In retrospect, Buck recognized that it might not have been the most sensible decision to walk home from a bar several miles when he had definitely had more than his share of whiskey shots. On the other hand, walking was a good way to clear your head before going to bed, and being a tall able-bodied white guy, Buck usually had the privilege of not having to worry too much about what might happen to him out on the streets at night. Well, life has no guarantees, and today appeared to be Evan Buckley's unlucky night.

He sensed somebody following him, even in his drunken state, for several minutes, before he turned around for the first time. Two dark figures were walking behind him. They were still at a distance that could have also been pure happenstance. Apart from himself and the two others, nothing was moving along the moderately well-illuminated street that led from downtown toward a more residential area. Feeling suddenly exposed and defenseless, Buck picked up his pace. He was still walking, but briskly now, definitely not strolling along any more.

This acceleration turned out to be more of a symbolic action, however, and the next time Buck turned around, his face met with a fist right colliding hard with his left cheekbone. The impact sent his already destabilized body spiraling around and down. Buck managed to catch himself on two hands, coughing blood onto the gray pavement. Before he could form a clear thought, his head was ripped upward by his hair. He couldn’t clearly make out the face he was looking at underneath the guy’s dark hood. Buck felt another person’s boots pressing down on his calves and another fist in his hair on the back of his head. Everything felt sort of surreal as his dizzy mind tried desperately to become as alert as the situation demanded it. Bad guy nr. 1, in front of him, spoke:

“Wallet. Watch. Anything valuable you have on you.”

“W…”

The robbers didn’t seem to be in any way inclined to take Buck’s intoxication and resulting dimmed wits into consideration, Buck learned as an unrelenting kick to the stomach had him double down again.

“Ok, blondie…”

The tone of voice suddenly shifted from aggressive and demandin to aggressive and bewildered:

“…what the hell?”

Buck felt at least one hand let go of his hair as another commotion started, this time not involving him.

“Hey!”

The shout came from behind him.

Then the weight on his lower legs was lifted and Buck slowly raised himself to see the two guys that had assaulted him locked in an altercation with another man. One wearing black pants and something leather. The single guy clearly had the upper hand, however that was possible. Finally, Buck’s presumed savior had pushed the two assailants back enough to show them something on his jacket and to say a couple of words that sent them off positively running down the street.

Next, Buck found himself face to face with…

“Eddie?”

“You okay, Buck?”

Eddie, sunglasses Eddie, grocery store Eddie, was kneeling right in front of Buck. Unlike the robber’s face, the streetlights painted Eddie's face in stark contrasts. It appeared to be screwed up with worry as he scanned Buck in his admittedly not very fortunate position.

“Eddie, what…?”

“Are you feeling ok? Can you stand up?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Buck said the words as tentatively as he pushed himself onto his feet. He was swaying slightly and his arms wrapped themselves around his bruised abdomen seemingly of their own accord. Eddie stood up right next to him, and steadied him by gripping both his arms, firmly but not too tightly. Buck made his best attempt at a reassuring smile:

“Some of it is also the alcohol. I've gotten pretty hammered tonight.”

Eddie's concerned expression softened somewhat at that statement, and keeping eye contact, he smiled back at Buck.

“Yeah well, you’ve still been beaten up by a couple of idiots, so let’s make sure they didn’t leave any permanent marks, ok? Give me your address and I'll take you home, if that’s ok with you. Or do you need a hospital?”

Apparently trying to answer his own question, Eddie traced Buck's bruised left cheek carefully with his fingertips. Buck had to suck in a couple of breaths but all in all nothing seemed to be seriously damaged.

"I think I'm ok. Also feels like I still got all my teeth."

"Good, Good. How about your ribs? Your stomach? Are you breathing all right?"

Buck took a few deep breaths and lifted his shirt to feel along the big red spot on his left side where the robber's boot had connected with his torso.

"I mean, it hurts like hell, but it doesn't feel like anything's broken. Should be ok to wait until tomorrow to see if I need a doctor."

"Alright, Buck. Home it is then?"

"Yeah. that sounds good."

"It's just down this street. About a mile or so."

"Can you try to sit on the bike?"

Eddie looked away from Buck to indicate the huge black motorcycle parked at the side of the street. Buck thought that he must have been really preoccupied to not have heard the engine approaching but then again being violently assaulted while being boozed-up might do that to a guy. He nodded.

“I’ll try.”

"Great. I'm gonna sit down in front first, you'll have to climb on behind me. Take care to keep those long legs off the ground. And let me know if it hurts too much, then we'll walk."

"Ok, Eddie."

Buck tried for his own sake as much as Eddie's not to sound as if he was secretly planning to lie down on the concrete and suffer in silence as the adrenaline rush from the robbery finally died down and he became painfully aware that his bruises were just about to really start showing their true colors. Not to mention the drunkenness.

Still, Eddie appeared to realize that he had set Buck a task that was pretty challenging in his current condition. From his seat on the bike, he gave Buck an encouraging smile:

"Just a few minutes and you can lie down and let the painkillers do their job."

Buck brazed himself before swinging his right leg over the black leather seat behind Eddie. Careful to make the most of the limited space between Eddie and the rear wheel, he dropped down and found that the seat was surprisingly comfortable. It took a bit more coordination to position his feet on the footpegs.

"You good?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Ok, Buck. You'll have to hold onto me. Other than that, just try to relax and keep your feet and butt where they belong. We're not going fast and we're not going far, but remember to tell me if you don't feel alright. Sound good?"

"Yup."

As he put his hands gingerly on both Eddie's sides, Buck, for the first time since he had left the bar, was actually kind of glad for the last of the alcohol still circulating his system. Even though this was by far the most normal thing to happen in the last half hour or so, it still was a pretty awkward position, Buck found. Both he and Eddie were relatively big guys, and Buck at least was entirely lost on how to best position himself on a motorcycle. Eddie didn't seem fazed, though. Intentionally or not, his apparent calm helped center Buck in the moment, and to trust that he would be in the safety of his own home in just a bit.

As promised, Eddie rode along carefully until Buck told him that they were there. When Buck had stepped off the bike, they looked at each other in silence for a moment as they both tried to figure out what would be an appropriate good-bye after this particular meeting. Finally, Eddie said:

"Would you mind if I gave you my number? So can you tell me if you're still feeling ok tomorrow?"

Buck took his phone out of his jacket pocket, glad to see that it hadn't been implicated in the night's events. He held it out for Eddie to take.

"Go ahead."

As he watched the other man type, Buck realized that had no clue how to thank someone who had just saved his bacon from god knows what danger. Accepting the fact that he wouldn't come up with anything remotely worthy given how his head, hell, his whole body was feeling right now, Buck decided to keep it simple and true. When Eddie had finished saving his contact info and passed the phone back to him, Buck said:

"Thank you, Eddie. I really don't know what else to say, so thank you."

Eddie smiled up at him from the bike, another of those patient and sweet smiles that changed everything about his tough-guy appearance.

"Of course, Buck. Just be sure to check in on yourself before you go to sleep. I'll hear from you tomorrow, ok?"

"Definitely. Good night, Eddie."

Buck watched as Eddie started the engine, kicked off, and started riding down the street. Only then did he turn around and enter his house. Despite his bone-deep fatigue, he gave himself a moment to slide down with his back against the front door and let the turmoil inside him ravage the very last of his energy. When his body was finally all out of adrenaline, Be willed himself to walk to his medicine cabinet and down a couple of painkillers. He made sure to check his breathing and pain levels before he stumbled onto his bed. Buck was asleep before he even hit the mattress.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Last night, Eddie had waited until he could check that Buck's front door had safely closed behind him before really beginning his ride home. He was glad for the cool night air clearing his mind and the headwind's white noise. Despite how relaxed he had appeared while Buck was around, the whole situation hadn't passed Eddie by without leaving a trace.

Since Buck had been down when Eddie had arrived, it had been a two-on-one fight after all. Or rather, it could have been. There had been no way to know for sure whether showing those guys his patch and threatening them with its implications would make them back off or become even more aggressive. Eddie thanked god for at least mid-sized mercies as he replayed the events in his head before sleep finally caught up with him.

The next morning, Eddie kept checking his phone even though he knew Buck probably should take all the sleep he could get. Finally, at about 11, there was the ping indicating a new message:

“hi eddie, it's buck. just wanted to let you know that apart from some big bruises, everything seems intact. i really can't thank you enough for stepping in like that. let me know if there's ever anything i can do for you! you have my number now :). other than that, i'm sure i'll see you around, hopefully under much different circumstances next time. take care! buck."

Eddie let out the breath he'd been holding since opening the message. It was then that he realized that he was actually smiling at his phone. Like a damn teenager texting their crush.

In his defense, this was the first real contact he had made outside the MC since he had arrived in Santo Padre. And Buck was right about seeing each other around. As hard as it was in an obscure small town like this to stumble upon real connection, its limited size also meant that you would meet people time and time again. For some mysterious reason, Eddie felt that he would get along pretty well with the guy he only knew from a couple of looks across the street, one awkward run-in, and saving him from robbers at 2:30 at night.

Buck, with his heartfelt and infectious smile, had washed up at the same unlikely place Eddie had. So, for the first time since he had joined the local chapter to try and escape his Texas past, the joyful rush of anticipation bubbled up in him. When he stepped out into the hot SoCal sun, Eddie felt his heart beat in his chest as he thought of future meetings and blue eyes.

note: title from love is a wild thing by kacey musgraves. introductory quote from i can't remember me (before you) by brothers osborne. more music in my buddie playlist as linked in bio.

[papcrplancs]

( Leah Lewis, 24, Cis Woman, She/Her ) * hey, i’m looking for the office of Kimora Li. they’re the Personal Trainer who’s known around the office as The Traveler, if that helps ? not to be a gossip, but i’ve heard that they’re Free-Spirited but Reactive, is that true ? i also heard that they’re the one who used her sick time to ride her Motorcycle down the coast. anyways, here’s the coffee they ordered.

oops, look who decided to pick up another muse ajfkajfk. this is Kimora, aka Kim. she’s a personal trainer for all your muses fitness needs! like this if you want to plot, and i will come find you! probably over discord unless you are not on there.

FACTS

Name: Kimora Li

Nickname(s): Kim, Kimmy

Age: 24

DOB: December 9th, 1996

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius

Label: The Traveler

Sexuality: Pansexual

Hometown: Camden, Maine

APPEARANCE

Height: 5’5

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Brown

Ethnicity: East Asian (Chinese)

Aesthetic: Black, White, Muted tones, Motorcycles, Dive Bars, Pintrest board can be found here.

BACKGROUND

Career: Personal Trainer

Education: High School Diploma, National Personal Training Certification, Associates Degree in Exercise Science

Traits: Free-Spirited, Bold, Brave, Intelligent, Empathetic, Reactive, Short-Tempered, Closed-off

Kim’s Mother immigrated from Shanghai to marry her Father, having her only a year into their marriage

Kim grew up excelling in sports, falling in love with physical activity. She did everything from Soccer to Gymnastics, championing in every single one

Her parents were very supportive, showing up to every game or match, cheering her on, and their relationship was always very strong

A month after graduation, Kim left home, and fell in love with traveling. She found her way all around the North East, trying every new food or activity that she stumbled across. Her love of adventure and travel still exists to this day.

Not long after leaving home she met a girl, and fell hard. She was everything Kim dreamed her to be; kind, compassionate, strong. Plus, she rode a motorcycle which was just a bonus

They dated for 3 years, traveling up and down the East Coast, Kim even learning to ride a bike herself along the way. The two of them joined a Biker Club together, finding solace in like minded people who loved to travel the country

When a member of their biker club tragically died in an accident, Kim broke down. She turned to substances to deal with the grief, pushing away her now Ex-Girlfriend who, rightfully, wasn’t ready to put up with that

The breakup set Kim straight… for the most part. She won’t do anything hard, but she still has a beer and smokes a joint if it’s offered

She left the club not long after the break-up, deciding it was best to be solo for a while. She moved back up to Maine, getting a small one bedroom apartment, and working towards her Personal Trainer certification.

She loves the job, because she can make her own schedule, giving her the freedom to travel whenever she wants. Plus, she gets to stay active which, even now, is so important to her

Not long after getting her degree, she got a job at Masters. She’s a personal trainer specifically there for Rolfe and the Actors, but she’ll train anybody in the building if they’re willing to pay her— she’s only on salary for the Actors

HEADCANONS

Kim tore her meniscus in her left knee. The doctors weren’t convinced she’d be able to go back to Gymnastics, but she did and won her division

Kim has a sleeve tattoo on her right arm that she added to, slowly, for every state she visited

She’s visited every state except Hawaii and Alaska, because most of her travel is done on the back of her bike, and it’s harder to get to those

She wants to travel out of the country at some point, specifically to visit China for the first time

She 100% did use her sick time to ride her bike along the coast. And she’s do it again, bitch. She got bored

She keeps her Bike stored even though it’s expensive as hell, because it’s her baby. It’s a Harley Davidson and that is all i’ve got cause i have to research motorcycles more

She will take you on a ride on her bike if she likes you.

She runs a fitness Instagram that’s pretty popular, and that’s partially how Masters noticed her in the first place

She ain’t here for that toxic fitness BS. if you’re in the gym with her, you’re there to get STRONG. No talk of “weight loss” or “getting skinny” we only gET GAINS IN THIS HOUSE

She’s worked at Masters for about 2 years now, so assumed connections/friendships are welcome!

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Trainees (open to any, multiples welcome): Do you wanna work out with Kim? (And test me on my fitness knowledge that i’ve gained in the last year?) You can!!! Whether your character is someone she’s on salary to train, or pays her privately, she’ll work with you

Work Friends (open to any, multiples welcome): Maybe they just see each other at work, occasionally chat in the elevator, and are friendly around the office!

Friends (open to any, multiples welcome): the kind of friends that go to happy hour together, and hang out more outside of work

Best Friend (open to any): Hears all of Kim’s problems, hang out constantly, a confidant of sorts, and are thick of thieves. She’s probably forced them to go to the gym at least once— up to you whether or not they hated it

Roommate (open to any): New York City ain’t cheap. Split that rent for your little shoebox!

Work Enemy/Enemy (open to any): We can flush out the why, but maybe these two just… do not like each other. Two very spirited people tend to struggle to get along!

Ex (open to any women indentifying character, but i’m flexible): this is incredibly niche, but if you want to be her biker ex girlfriend? By all means.

FWB (open to any): It gets lonely out here. nothing like another person to keep you company

[poshfind]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Columbia Black Full Zip Fleece Lined Jacket S-M.

[nick-damiano]

Bike Kill 2017

[blackleather-jacket]

Men’s Black Vintage Biker Style Waxed Sheep Skin Fashion Jacket

Men’s Black Vintage Biker Style Waxed Sheep Skin Fashion Jacket

Runada Jacket is a brand with styling for some premium street fashion labels as well as luxury brands all across the globe. The brand believes in personalized attention to details of merchandising for every single merchandise to give utmost satisfaction to each and every individual buyer or their purchasers.

*100% genuine soft waxed sheepskin leather

*Made for Cocktail, Evening Parties, Night Club, Dance Halls, Proms/Bars, Club Wear

*Color may vary due to lightning, flash light while photo shoot and according to screen settings and resolution

*Jacket features red stripes on both arms

*Brilliantly Designed, Professionally cut & Premium Stitching throughout as per international Standards

*adjustable stand-up collar

*Original YKK Silver aluminum zipper

*Silver aluminum zippered twin handwarmer pockets & breast pocket

*Two inside chest pocket

*This Traditional Bike Style Jacket is crafted from Soft Supple Sheepskin Leather

*Features Sleek Quilted Stitched Panels on Shoulders, Sleeves, Sides, and Back

*Front Zip Closure – Stand Collars with Belt Fastening

*Adjustable Waist Tabs – Adjustable Zipped Cuffs

*Fully Lined Interior