#i hope i don’t abandon this new series like i do w everything else sad face

[d444lso]

i might start to get really active on here omg #2025 #newyearnewme

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 282: Aizawa Defeeted

Previously on BnHA: Oh my god do we even care about that at this point. Tomura made a speech; Gran Torino died; Deku lost his shit and tried to strangle Tomura to death with his bare hands; Ryuukyuu came back from Wherever She Was and tried to grab Tomura but he punched a hole through her giant hand; and now he’s grabbing his Quirk-Be-Gone bullets and is ready to cause some mayhem okay?? That about sum it up?? Is anyone even reading this?? CAN WE JUST GET ON WITH IT I’VE WAITED AN ENTIRE WEEK.

Today on BnHA: Well I guess let’s start with what doesn’t happen: Bakugou doesn’t lose his quirk. HE LUCKED OUT!!... for now, anyways. Because, thanks to a near-impossible-to-predict series of events (seriously, raise your hands if you had “Aizawa gets shot but goes full World War Z on his own ass” on your bingo card), Tomura has seemingly regained his regeneration powers, which means that his other quirks are probably back online as well! So we’ll see how that all goes. Anyway so in the meantime Shouto’s back, looking very mad that everyone temporarily forgot he was a main character. And Gigantomachia is back as well! Or almost, anyway. Also, you’ll never guess who broke another one of his arms! Go on, guess. But at least he still has the arm, though, which is more than we can say for certain other people’s limbs. Poor Aizawa is literally on his last leg. He and Tomura really got off on the wrong foot. He chopped his leg off, is what I’m saying. It’s that kind of chapter folks.

you guys I’m losing my whole fucking mind. I straight up deleted the tumblr app off my phone for 24 hours so that I wouldn’t be tempted to log in and risk potentially being spoiled. and I’m happy to say that it worked! so here we are now, completely spoiler free, and let me just say that if Horikoshi decides to cut back to Gunga Mountain now, I will either cry for hours or abandon the series forever and go do something more productive with the rest of my quarantine like learning how to play sad songs on the guitar

all right. here goes

so we’re opening with Deku, who is currently comprised of 100% rage and 0% mercy, and is doing that thing where only the whites of his eyes are visible. and basically he’s just thinking “I’VE REALLY GOT TO HOLD ON TO THIS GUY AND MAKE SURE HE DOESN’T DO ANYTHING ELSE HOMICIDAL.” which is a solid game plan, but perhaps not so easily accomplished

-- oh my god this poor kid is still in denial, I can’t. why are you doing this

is there even still a Gran Torino to tend to at this point? after Tomura bulldozed a hole through his torso, and you went and finished the job with your own fucking attack? sob

but I guess the law of Tragic Shounen Mentor Deaths mandates that Gran’s should be at least as drawn-out as Nighteye’s was, though. so he’s probably only Mostly Dead, which is still Slightly Alive if I remember my Princess Bride correctly, and I think I do

so now the rest of these stooges are finally catching up with us here

yes, my friends. a bullet. WELCOME TO MY LIFE FOR THE PAST FUCKING WEEK. anyways I have a LOT of pent-up energy here just fyi. there may be a lot of unnecessary screaming in this recap

FUCKING WYOMING SMASH Y’ALLSSSS

I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT JUST HAPPENED SOB. DID HE JUST HAMMER FIST TOMURA’S HEAD INTO THE GROUND. DID HE SNAP HIS FUCKING NECK AT 100%. IN AN IDEAL WORLD HE WOULD HAVE JUST CHOPPED TOMURA’S ARMS OFF WHILE SOMEHOW MANAGING TO AVOID BREAKING ANY OF HIS OWN BONES IN THE PROCESS, BUT I HAVE A FEELING THIS SITUATION WILL NOT BE RESOLVED IN ANY KIND OF MANNER ONE WOULD CONSIDER “IDEAL”

(ETA: fun fact: this attack did absolutely nothing except make things approximately 100x worse. but you tried Deku. you tried.)

THE FUCK KIND OF PORTENTOUS BULLSHITTING TITLE IS THIS. OH MY GOD, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT EMOTION I’M HAVING RIGHT NOW, IT’S JUST A LOT OF LOUD THOUGHTS

anyway so if you’re just joining us, Tomura just pulled two bullets out of his pocket, the good guys finally noticed, and then Deku did a smash and everything exploded. the radius of this attack actually looks wide enough to have potentially involved Aizawa, who probably does NOT want to get any debris in his eyes right now, and also Gran, who probably doesn’t particularly want to be hit by another deadly attack for the third time in the past ninety seconds. anyway so I guess what I’m trying to say here is WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THAT YOU LITTLE GREEN LUNATIC

AHHHHHH

he got the one!! the one that was in Tomura’s right hand!! but what about the one in his left ahhhhhhh

(ETA: lmao at Kacchan being the one to blow up the same bullet I was so sure he was going to be shot with. saw the writing on the wall, huh kid? what do we say to the god of foreshadowing?? ‘NOT TODAY.’ ...except that we’re still not actually out of the woods yet so you still better watch yourself lol.)

...

based on the font here, these are Tomura’s thoughts. which he is thinking immediately after getting the lower half of his jaw very painfully cronched by the VERY homicidal sixteen-year-old still clinging to him. anyway so Tomura’s thought processes are as inscrutable to me as ever lulz

and Deku’s arm looks broken again, yaaaaay. but at least it’s his left arm and not his right! so that’s nice. now they can match

[SHRIEKS]

HE YEETED IT. IT HAS BEEN YEETEDED. HE DID A YEET. [sobbing] he DiD a YeEt oH my GOD

DID IT HIT SOMETHING!?!?!?

my reading process here is as follows: 1) scroll down exactly one panel. 2) scream even though absolutely nothing has happened yet. 3) WRITE THAT DOWN 4) REPEAT

DKSFJLKHSDLGKHLI

DID IT HIT HIM!?!? DID IT GET HIM IN THE LEG SOB ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. JUST LIKE THAT?? BOOM GUN BULLET LEG!!?

YOU GUYS IT REALLY HIT AIZAWA AND NO ONE DID A GODDAMN THING?? it wasn’t even drawn out or anything??? it just HAPPENED, within like four pages??? NO SLOW MO?? NOT EVEN A REACTION PANEL WHAT THE FUCK

son of a bitch I would so dearly like to grab Manual and RockLockRock’s heads right now and just conk them together real hard. YOU STUPID FUCKS sob YOU HAD ONE JOB!!! IT REALLY WAS JUST ONE!! AND YOU WERE SHARING IT!! SO IT’S MORE LIKE HALF A JOB!! AND YOU STILL COCKED IT UP IN ABSOLUTELY NO TIME AT ALL OH MY GOD

(ETA: they should blow this panel up and make it into a t-shirt and make Manual and RLR wear the shirts every day for the rest of their lives. half a job, you guys. please go away I cannot even look at you right now.)

FUCK MY EVERYTHING

(ETA: I still can’t figure out if this horrific angle is due to the earlier damage from the Noumu, or if Tomura really just flung the bullet THAT hard. honestly I’m surprised it didn’t just slice right through him with that kind of velocity. “no thanks because then I wouldn’t get to write a scene where he chops his own leg off” oh okay well when you put it that way, Horikoshi.)

if I recall correctly this is the leg that he said was “twisted”, no? yeesh. might just want to chop it off real quick, then. s’not like it’s doing you any more good. does anyone know if zombie rules apply or not with this sort of thing?? shit

?!?!

“THANKS”?? okay what. did it hit him or not??

-- oh my god WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT

I WAS -- I WAS JOKING I -- FFFFFFFFKJK

jesus fucking christ. when I said “might just want to chop it off real quick” literally FOUR PARAGRAPHS AGO, I can tell you that the one thing I did NOT expect was for Aizawa to be all, “you know what, that’s a good idea”, and then YOINK OUT HIS TRUSTY HERO SHANK AND GO FULL 127 HOURS ON THIS BITCH. "LALALA WE’RE GONNA DO IT RATIONALLY TEEHEE” like excuse me, the fuck

anyways. I don’t even know what to say. thank you Aizawa’s leg for your sacrifice, and for always supporting him. literally. oh my god I came here ready for my son to enter a new phase of character development, and for the manga as a whole to enter a new phase of glorious, glorious angst. no one told me I’d be sitting here making puns instead. what a fine, confusing day

anyway though let’s just fucking hope it worked. and side note, if Aizawa Shouta really did chop off his own fucking leg just now and somehow STILL managed not to fucking blink, I think we might as well just go ahead and hand him the Biggest Badass In The Series award right now because no one is ever going to top that. nope. not happening

it is truly a testament to Shigaraki Tomura’s unfathomably mysterious sexy villain energy that he still somehow manages to look hot with only half a face

also no one in this manga actually feels pain, do they. not Deku, not Aizawa, not Tomura, no one. no wonder none of them have any self-preservation instincts to speak of

um

did someone just randomly explode just now. at this point it might as well happen, right

oh it’s the shockwave from Deku’s Wyoming attack, apparently. how nice of it to have a delayed reaction for absolutely no reason

anyway so Deku’s being flung back, but he’s grabbing onto Tomura again with Blackwhip. but oh shit you guys, if Tomura escapes Deku and Ryuukyuu’s clutches and still has any bullets left in his pocket, we may still be able to salvage this Bakugou quirk situation after all. would be nice to be able to actually do something with all of these “happy quirk losing day” balloons that I ordered

(ETA: actually, believe it or not I honestly like this better. Tomura using AFO was always the more dramatic option anyway. and now that we’ve done the bullet thing everyone has presumably let their guard down again, which, good.)

I love how Tomura apparently hasn’t noticed that Aizawa’s just amputated his own leg? to be fair he’s probably distracted by all the explosions and such

also gotta love how Deku’s arm-breaking attack seemingly just made everything worse for no reason. and also how Manual and RockLockRock are once again just standing there doing absolutely nothing

SO NOW GUESS WHAT’S HAPPENING

I MEAN IT! GUESS. BECAUSE YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE LOL

OH WELL OKAY THEN

just like we all saw coming!! ...

so is this Endeavor’s attack?? Bakugou’s?? either way, hot damn. fortunately for Tomura he is apparently operating under the same guidelines as the U.S. Federal Reserve, in which mutilated bills may still be exchanged at face value if more than 50% of a note identifiable as United States currency is present. basically as long as roughly half of him is still vaguely Tomura-shaped I assume he’ll be fine

(ETA: in hindsight I should have immediately been able to identify this as a Shouto attack based solely on how murdery it was lol.)

OH MY GODDDD

KRANCH?!?

OH MY GOD LOL WHAT. LOL. REMEMBER EVERYONE’S THEORIES FROM LIKE TWENTY YEARS AGO LOL. SHOUTO WHAT THE FUCK. DID YOU STOP FOR DRIVE THRU

AND MEANWHILE DEKU’S BACK ON THE SCENE GIVING ARGUABLY EVEN LESS FUCKS THAN BEFORE, IF SUCH A THING IS EVEN POSSIBLE. SO FAR THIS CHAPTER HAS PRECISELY ZERO THINGS THAT I ACTUALLY EXPECTED IN IT, WHICH IS VERY IMPRESSIVE

IT ALSO HAS A LOT OF SMASHING

a LOT. of smashing, guys. feels like... 60% smashing, 20% severed legs, 20% Kranch

-- oh no oh SHIT oh shit oh shit

(ETA: um so I really can’t tell how far that wound extends and whether or not Aizawa still has his right eye, shit.)

first of all how did Deku get here next to Aizawa when he was just over there with Tomura, what. and second, I think Aizawa just blinked, oh shit. probably on the verge of passing out after CHOPPING HIS OWN LEG OFF which STILL hasn’t been acknowledged yet?? did I just completely misinterpret all of that back there or what

(ETA: there was seriously so little attention called to this that I scrolled back up to confirm it probably like half a dozen times. apparently Horikoshi thinks that THE MOST BADASS THING TO EVER HAPPEN IN THE MANGA should be completely downplayed. whereas if it were me, there’d be an entire two page spread of JUST THE LEG. WITH MUSIC PLAYING. EVEN THOUGH IT’S A MANGA.)

YEPPPPPPP. fuck

look at him though. he’s so happy. this is why I can’t stay mad at you no matter how deranged you get you little maniac

so is quirk-stealing back on the menu then or what. don’t think I’ve been lulled into any kind of false sense of security by any of this lol

-- ARE WE SERIOUSLY CUTTING AWAY

so Todoroki really went after them ALONE. the better to put his dad right back up at the top of the Lose Your Quirk Sweepstakes finalists. well... second-to-top, maybe. like I said I will not be lulled

yuh-oh

why do I feel like the odds of Gigantomachia arriving to herald the end of this chapter just shot up DRAMATICALLY

so the next page is almost entirely just a list of cities that the news anchor is telling people to evacuate because they’re in Machia’s path. along with a bunch of dead heroes lying around everywhere, and Ochako being all ominous

(: weren’t they, though? heh. this is going to be so, so bad (: (: (:

-- fuuuuuuuuuuu

aaaaaand that’s it. hahahaha. okay then let’s summarize

Bakugou defied all expectations and kept his quirk (FOR NOW)!

Aizawa cut his own fucking leg off and it WASN’T EVEN REMOTELY ACKNOWLEDGED FOR REASONS I CAN’T UNDERSTAND (R.I.P. AIZAWA’S PRECIOUS LEG. YOU ALWAYS PUT YOUR BEST FOOT FORWARD)

Kranch showed up after 157 years and is probably wondering why the heck I keep calling him “Kranch” now. THINGS CHANGE WHEN YOU’RE MIA FOR A WHILE MY LITTLE STARBUCKS CHRISTMAS CUP

Deku broke his arm for the 78th time

Tomura regenerated but seems to think Aizawa’s quirk is actually gone for good, which I’m pretty sure it’s not. so if they can keep him from destroying everything long enough for Aizawa to turn it back on again, we might possibly still survive this

and lastly, Machia is about to kill all of these stupid people frolicking around outside of this fitness club who are probably so proud of themselves for not being glued to their phones 24/7 because they prefer to LIVE LIFE IN THE MOMENT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. well that’s on you my friends. at least it’ll be a quick death. ffff

[pretend-writer]

Down Below (Chapter 70)

Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, John Murphy x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader

Word Count: 2.2k words

Warning: swearing, injuries

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As I opened my eyes, I felt a massive headache as if I had too much to drink the night before. Not to mention the body ache from the force field I ran into was still there.

Clarke still chained, she noticed I woke up. 'Surprised you went to sleep, looked like you had a good nap.'

'Yeah.' I've tried to think of a good memory while I fought off the thoughts in my head. Moments with John that we had before we were locked in the skybox, the times I spent with Raven. Bellamy crossed my mind occasionally too; Even the Red Sun didn't help me forget about him.

She stared at me, 'Are you mad at me about something?'

'I'm sorry I'm a bit tired from fighting off the Red Sun, Clarke. I totally forgot to start an argument about how you love to abandon your people.'

It was out of pocket I know; Monty promised us to be better, to restore our humanity back. I knew out of everyone, I had a lot of work to do. Having Clarke beside me didn't make it any better, she continued to betray her family. I was a monster but at least I had Wonkru's back.

Clarke rolled her eyes and sighed, 'Shouldn't have asked.'

'Thought you knew by now.' I left a remark before I tossed her her keys to her chain. She threw mine back at me and I unchained myself from the wall.

Then I remembered the encounter I had with John before I came back; leaving Clarke by herself, I instantly rushing to the pond right outside the castle. I squeezed through the crowd of people, they weren't our people but my mind was too busy I didn't care. I eventually got to the middle of the crowd that was surrounding Bellamy and John.

My eyes widened as I saw John laying unconsciously, black veins popping out of his pale skin. I kneeled next to him, caressing his cheek and hoping that he'd wake up soon. 'W-what happened?'

'I don't know, I just woke up next to him like this.' Bellamy panicked, barely getting the words out of his mouth.

'Maybe I can help.' A deep voice came from behind me. It was a man with fancy clothes walking this way. 'We have something that can revive him.'

'Re-revive? So he's dead?' My mind went blank as I stared at this man. There were so many thoughts running through my head. Who were these people and can I trust them? Can I really believe that John was dead?

Another man followed behind this fancy man, he seemed to be the doctor. As he pulled out a snake from inside his bag, he kneeled next to me. 'May I?'

My heart thumped fast, scared that I might of lost John for good. I didn't know who these people were but I had no other choice; It was better than not helping him at all.

'Please, help him.' I begged, taking a step back from him to give these people some space.

Watching John breathless and unconscious killed me; I think that this was when I realized I really loved him.

It hurt to think that I would spend the days without him, not only did I love him but he was my best friend. He was with me through everything, beginning with the days when we were up in the Ark to literally yesterday when he helped me through The Red Sun.

I needed him with me. The man pulled out a rather large orange snake from his bag, putting it closer to Murphy. The snake rattled, showing its sharp teeth as it slowly crawled onto his skin.

From the moment the snake touched him, the black veins disappeared and eventually left John's skin unmarked. The snake actually worked, I thought to myself.

Murphy inhaled, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. He became somewhat conscious but he wasn't opening his eyes. All that mattered at this moment was that he was alive again.

'John, oh my-' I caressed his face, kissing his cheek over and over again. Happy tears rolled down my eyes, so relieved that I didn't lose him.

'If you don't mind, I would like to speak with you all inside. I'll have my people bring this gentleman in.' The man with the fancy outfit asked.

I nodded my head, getting up as I smiled at him. 'Yes, of course. Thank you for saving him.'

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

'So what's the plan?' Clarke asked, her arms crossed as we stood in a circle.

'Make sure you don't talk for starters.' I joked but was half way serious. 'Last time around, you sided with the fucking psychopath and nearly got us killed.'

'Oh, I don't remember siding with you Skafaiya.' She commented back. She was lucky that side of me was gone, otherwise she would've been stabbed on her foot before she could say "Madi."

I looked over at her and flashed a sarcastic smile. 'Every time you're involved, something backfires. You're the reason why Earth is gone.'

'No, you and Octavi-'

'Guys, guys.' Echo stood between us, 'We have to make sure we know what we're talking about before these people show up.'

'She's right, we have to make sure they like us enough to take us in.' Shaw agreed with Echo.

Emori chuckled. 'After hearing everything that we've done, I hardly believe that's going to happen.'

Bellamy rolled his eyes. 'This is our one and only chance. Let's be on our best behavior, alright?'

Looking over at John, I watched him lying on the bed that the people prepared for him. He seemed fine but the fear of him not coming back didn't leave my mind. I already had Marcus that was severely injured that may not survive, I couldn't lose John too.

The man who seemed like the leader type walked in, the same man that offered to help John. With him came a bunch of people, most likely body guards of some sort.

'So what brings you guys here to my palace?'

I stepped in, scratching my head as I felt nervous. 'Well, we came from Earth and then we found this place after being in cryo for years. We landed and we were looking around to see if it’s habitable. Then we stumbled upon this place and well, you know the rest.'

'Earth? Wow. I haven't heard about Earth in ages.' The man smiled, 'The name is Russell and I can try to make arrangements for you all to stay. I'd first like to have a meeting to get to know you all better.'

'Before that sir, there's something you might want to know.’ Clarke stepped up, scratching her head as she let out a nervous laugh. ‘We aren’t the only ones that landed out here.’

'How many of you are out there?'

She sighed, 'Over 200.'

Russell let out a breath. 'We can't take that many, we don't even know if we can take you guys in. For all we know, you could be criminals escaping Earth.'

'Ha, that'll be crazy right?' Shaw commented sarcastically, scooting near me as Russell looked over at him.

'Can we perhaps talk to our people back in our ship, see what we can do.' I added. It was nice that they were offering their own place but who knows what these people are. Last time we landed on someone's territory, people died.

He nodded, agreeing to what I had offered. 'I don't see why not. While you guys do that, I can maybe show some of you around Sanctum. Worst thing that can happen is that we become neighbors, right?'

Bellamy stepped in, smiling to convince the man. 'That sounds like a great idea, I'll take a few with me back to the ship.'

I walked over to Clarke, whispered in her ear to make sure she heard me but no one else did. 'You guys make sure we're not dealing with psychos.'

'That's what they're probably saying about you.' Clarke made a snarky comment. I chose to ignore, I was tired of her judgement when she had no room to talk. 'Why do I have to do it?'

'Because I need to go back and make sure Marcus is okay. Is that a problem? Or are you tempted to blow this place up as well?'

Clarke rolled her eyes, 'What about Murphy?'

'John seems like he's getting better, besides I know Emori won't let anyone mess with him so I feel safer going back to the ship.'

'Okay, go do what you got to do.'

Turning to Bellamy, I tapped him on his forearm. 'I'm ready to go.'

Bellamy looked over at Murphy, then back to me. 'What about him?'

'What about him?' I asked back, replying back with a bit of pettiness. There was no need to ask about my relationship between me and John. He lost the right to know when he decided to betray me.

He got the hint as he bit his lip and looked down on the ground. It's been a while since I've saw him sad and guilty, the last time I did was when he thought Pike had executed me.

Walking pass him and out the door back outside, I prepared for another yet long walk back to our ship.

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

Going back to the ship felt like forever. My body was in pain from the force field and not to mention my leg wasn't completely healed from when I got shot by McCreary's men back at the gorge. It didn't also help that the people I was walking with were Bellamy and Echo.

I tried to put my distance between the two of them, sticking next to Shaw as much as I can as we trailed from behind. They would mumble something amongst each other as well but I had to pretend that I didn't give a shit. I hated that I was curious about what they were talking about.

Bellamy then stopped, waiting for me to catch up to them as he eventually started walking next to me. Reading the signs, Shaw caught up with Echo, walking next to her this time.

What Shaw didn't do was read my sign, giving him the signal with my eyes that I didn't want to be left alone with Bellamy. But as polite as he was, he gave us some space.

'Reyes, I really am sorry.'

'Do you remember the conversations we had when we lived at the drop ship?'

'Of course I do.'

I sighed, 'Do you? Because I'm sick and tired of hearing your apologies. That's all I've told to you when we first met and now you're doing it all over again.'

'Tell me what I should do then. Tell me how I can be better.'

'There isn't anything you can do. It's done.'

'I don't believe that it is.'

'It's not just the kiss that I'm upset about, Blake.'

He reached for my arm, pulling me to stop me from walking. Bellamy looked me in the eyes, 'Then what is it?'

'No, I shouldn't have to spell it out for you.'

'Well, I need to know to fix what I've done wrong. That's how much I care to make this right.'

A chuckle escaped my mouth, 'You know. If you really cared from the beginning, we wouldn't be in this mess.'

His brow raised, licking his lips before he said what he said. 'You don't have any room to talk, Skafaiya.'

My nose flared, anger coming out of me. With instant instinct, I shoved Bellamy but of course he didn't budge. 'You want to get back with me and you say this type of shit, Bellamy. That's what's wrong with you.'

'You're telling me-'

Instantly cutting him off, I practically shouted at him. 'No. You want to know the difference between you and John? He doesn't judge me and the mistakes that I've made. Despite all the things I've done, he understands that I am me. He loves me for who I really am.'

Bellamy swallowed the lump in his throat, staring at me like a sad, lost puppy. I knew that he hated John, especially because of the close relationship I had with him again. But this was probably the only way he will get a proper idea in his head.

'I've never brought up your past mistakes that you've made. With that, I still loved you because in the end, I knew who you really were. I knew that the things you've done wasn't the real you, it was just a mistake that you had to learn from. So don't give me that bullshit, Blake. Stop being a fucking hypocrite.'

I took a deep breath, mostly to keep myself controlled so I wouldn't cry. I didn't want to hear another word from him, I was tired of crying and explaining myself to him. Walking in a faster pace, I left him behind by himself, catching up with Shaw and Echo. I'm pretty sure they heard all of our conversation but I was too hurt to even care. I didn't know what to do with him anymore.

[simsadventures]

Not Me: Chapter 1: Sweet, Sweet Life

Summary: You always wanted the perfect life- great husband, fulfilling job, and overall happiness. What if you can’t have even a bit of your fairytale?

Warnings: angst, swearing, implied smut, memories (in italics)

Word Count: 2074

A/N: The first ever chapter of Not Me is finally here! Im so excited about this story, and I seriously can’t wait for you all to read it. Let me know what you think so far, and what do you expect from this little story? The ride has only just started, and it will get spicier as we go along, I promise xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

The sun was shining through the blinds, and you groaned loudly. Another day in your personal nightmare. You tried to snuggle into the pillows harder, willing your sleep to come again and take you for at least another few hours, so that you wouldn’t have to face the world. And by the world, you meant your husband, James.

Just the thought of him made a shiver run down your spine, and not the good kind. You didn’t even know how you got to that position. There used to be times when James was all you could think of.

You were at high school together, buddies, thanks to your fathers owning a publishing company together. You were a freshman, and he was a senior, but that didn’t stop you from spending a lot of time together. You used to piss off your fathers too often for your own good, whenever there was a banquet or some other fancy shit, you and Bucky would always find a way to make it at least a bit enjoyable for the two of you.

You had each other to hold on to, and that was enough. You both went to a different university, Bucky attending Yale, while you went to Brown. It was during this time that you grew apart, having different goals in life, and life choices as well. But your crush was still strong as ever at that time.

James had this ability to draw people to them. You could even pinpoint the exact thing that made him so charming because there were so many of them. His eyes, his deep, gruff voice, his physique, which would get any girl to her knees, or his charm. But you knew he wasn’t interested in you that way.

While you saw Bucky partying every second possible, you were more the studying type. Not that you didn’t have your fair share of wild parties, making you wake up in Canada instead of your home. But you were a passionate reader and student, and so when the crucial times came, you knew how to use your brain. And form what you heard, with Bucky’s party habits, he had to pay somebody to take all his exams. That was the only plausible option in your mind.

You only saw each other during summers, when you both worked for Barnes&Clark, your fathers’ company. And while Bucky was much more interested in all the sexy secretaries, you were impressed by all it entailed to be a businesswoman. You sat with Mr Barnes and your father in their meetings, they even seemed to listen to you while you spoke about your ideas of new ways of getting books to young people.

It was close to your graduation that your life turned completely, and, at the time, you thought for the better.

There was a knock on your door, and you frowned. It was Thursday evening, and you weren’t expecting anyone. What was even weirder that the person was already in the building, without ringing the bell from the front door. You cautiously went and looked through the peep-hole, only to be utterly surprised.

You opened the door, a confused frown on your face.

“Bucky. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked him, stepping aside, to let him inside.

He didn’t say anything, just stepped in and waited for you to take him further inside your apartment. When you led you to the sofa and sat down, you raised your eyebrows, indicating that he really should start explaining what it was he wanted.

“Look, Y/N. We’ve known each other for a long time, and I’ve been thinking, recently, and I reached a decision in which, I hope, you’ll support me.”

You still didn’t say anything, not sure where he was going with it. You haven’t heard from him in months, and so it was peculiar as to why he suddenly came knocking on your door.

Without any other word, he got on his knee and pulled out a white velvet box from his pocket. Your eyes were suddenly the size of a cartoon character, and you were pretty sure they now occupied most of your face.

“W-what? Bucky are you drunk? Or are you fatally ill? What the hell are you talking about?” You asked him, on the verge of a mental breakdown. This couldn’t be happening. Sure, you liked him and sure, you did try to write Y/N Barnes a few too many times before. But you were both young, 24 and 27 years old, and you sure as hell weren’t ready for marriage.

“I prioritise doll. I know it sounds crazy, but think about it. I know you have been single for far too long, and you’re never comfortable around any other guy than me. I’ve had my fair share of fun, and now I’m ready to settle down. And with whom better than you? We used to be best friends, and I think you never really grow from that kind of bond. Just think about it, will you?”

You were looking in those icy blue eyes, and for a weird reason, you saw the desperation in them and a hint of anger. You couldn’t be too sure, because you haven’t seen him for so long, but he had one thing right. You never really grow out of that bond. You thought he did, but obviously, he was thinking about you as much as you were thinking about him.

“I’ll need some time, and I think we should spend some time together if you want to marry me, don’t you think?”

A flash of something you weren’t able to recognise ran through his face, but as soon as it appeared, it was gone, and you weren’t really sure what it was.

“Sure, can I stay tonight and we can watch a movie, or something, huh?” He asked, without a hint of a smile, and you enthusiastically nodded. After all, this was something you dreamed of quite often, to be completely honest.

It went like this for a while, you and Bucky spending evenings together, and after one particularly fun evening, full of gin and tonics and tangled sheets, you finally gave him your answer.

“I will marry you Bucky, if it’s still something you want, I think we could be really good together,” you whispered against his naked chest, laying almost on top of him in your bed. He hummed, patted your shoulder and got up from the bed.

You looked at him confused, trying to determine if you said something wrong, but he only pulled the velvet box out of the pants that were laying abandoned on the floor and slipped the massive diamond ring on your finger.

“Good. Now sleep so we can plan the damn thing,” he said in a hushed voice, got dressed, and left you laying on the bed, naked and exhausted from the amazing sex you just had, confused as hell.

And that’s how your marriage pretty much started. Despite Bucky leaving that day, you were pretty excited about the whole ordeal, and so was your and Bucky’s family. The only unexcited party seemed to be Bucky, but you thought it was just his face, nothing serious.

But after a year of marriage, you realised that it probably wasn’t just his face. When he was around his Uni friends or his colleagues, his demeanour changed drastically.

He was joyful and funny, and always the life of the party. But when you two were alone, he was brooding and looked pissed 99% of the time.

You thought you’d have everything you ever wished for. Happy family, amazing husband, and a dream job. But things aren’t always the way we want them.

Your amazing husband rarely ever spoke to you, and when he did, it was to point out a flaw on you.

You shouldn’t talk so loudly. Your language isn’t lady-like. I don’t like it when you wear sweatpants, I think you should look nice even at home. This steak isn’t medium-rare. This make-up is too much. Stand and be pretty. Blah blah blah.

You tried to do all he said, trying to be the best wife for him, because you still had the idea of Bucky loving you, and wanting to spend his life with you. But every sentence like this created a gash in your heart, and by the first anniversary, you thought your heart was just a shredded piece of muscle, unable to function any more.

What broke you down to your knees, was, however, a different kind of message, delivered to you by Bucky and your father.

“James will lead the company, he has most of the rights to Barnes&Clark, and we think it would be great if you were a stay-at-home wife like you were supposed to be from the very beginning. Look, Y/N, you are a woman, and those shouldn’t be heads of the company. You understand that, don’t you?”

You were in total and complete shock. He trained you your whole life, to be the CEO, or at least the head of the publishing, while somebody else would take care of the numbers. But now he was telling you that your dream was vanishing right in front of your eyes.

“But, but, dad, I thought you-“

“How about you stop thinking and just be a pretty thing, sweetie?” Your father asked you mockingly, and to your utter surprise, Bucky laughed as well, patting your father’s shoulder.

You wanted to run away in tears, because every time you tried to speak up, either your father or Bucky would shush you. By the time the meeting ended, your eyes were filled with tears, but you didn’t want either of the men seeing this weak side of yours.

When you left the company’s building with Bucky by your side, you were shaking with both sadness and anger.

“Are you seriously with him on that, Bucky?” You asked, desperation evident in your voice. But the look Bucky gave you made you regret that you even asked him anything.

“Of course, I agree with him. You have to take care of our household, and not be busy with business. Oh, and, by the way, I would prefer it if you called me James, from now on.”

It felt like he pushed a dagger deep inside your guts. He let everyone call him Bucky, he would always say that it just felt better when the people around him called him Bucky. And now he wanted you, his wife, to call him James?

You sighed again and sat up in your bed. Ever since you moved in, you had separate bedrooms, James telling you he needed his rest to run the company. And even if you wanted to protest in the very beginning, you gave up. Like on many things in your life at the moment.

You used to have dreams, you used to be ambitious, but this life took everything from you. You rarely ever had sex with James- he would always tell you how tired he was and that you should be tired as well. And if you weren’t, it meant you weren’t doing enough through the day.

You learned how to cook, how to bake, how to sew, how to have the perfect garden, but it still wasn’t impressive enough for James to spare a kind word for you.

And neither did you father. He would always only remind you to be a good wife to James and to leave the rest to the men, and by your first anniversary, you believed all of those things, your self-respect pretty much non-existing.

You got up from the bed and headed towards the closet, to put on something representative to not give James any reason to pester you. You took a quick shower and put on some make-up, knowing full well that James was against the natural beauty look. You put on high-waisted wide pants and a blouse, trying no to look too shabby even if you were only going down to the kitchen to make James a breakfast.

When you came into the kitchen, he was already there, sitting by the table, reading news on his phone. He didn’t even spare you a look, and you sighed, walking towards the kitchen isle. It would be just another day in your hell, and you couldn’t do anything about it. Or, at least, you thought you couldn’t.

/Next Chapter >

Not Me:

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[fantasyinvader]

Kamen Rider Saber: Finale and Series Review

Okay, before I start disemboweling this series I want to give the finale two points of props.

It was nice to see the main trio fight the big bad together rather than it just being the lead Rider.

The ending really feels nostalgic for me. It's like one of those old games or anime that tried to do something like Evangelion, mostly Star Ocean 3 comes to mind.

I was going to add another point: how the ending didn't have to rely on a cosmic retcon to turn things into a happy ending like Build or Zi-o did, leaving those who died dead and having some level of maturity. I was going to give the show that point, even if it felt like it was leading into Touma essentially becoming God, but then the show did it and...I'm going to be honest here, I was saying fuck you at the screen. Multiple times, kinda like when Doctor Who's 50th anniversary where it turns out Gallifrey wasn't destroyed, the Doctor sealed it away and just couldn't remember it. Like, that is the level of bullshit I was calling out, and with Doctor Who I only said it as an “oh fuck you” rather than just “fuck you fuck you fuck you” until I noticed I was doing this and stopped myself.

Got it? Good. Now let's put Kamen Rider Saber on the examination table, rip it open, and see what went wrong with it.

Oh my god, where to begin with this series?

You ever see a show or movie that tries to do too much for it's runtime? Maybe a book that has some ultimately good ideas, but it never fleshed them out properly? That's my biggest feeling with Saber. Individual parts of the story, some arcs and characters are good on paper. Not to mention, Touma has two incredibly sexy upgrades (the Ryuki-inspired Draconic Knight and the berserker Primitive Dragon). But there is just so much in here that, given the proper focus could have carried the show if properly developed. It's a case of quantity over quality.

But the main problem comes to it's central McGufffin, the Omniscient Tome. This book is supposed to have all knowledge and later on all stories contained within it. It's what powers Wonderworld and the Wonder Ridebooks that are the main collectable trinket of the season. But when you stop and think about it, Saber is a world where there is no free will and the antagonists are all rebelling against this in their own way. Kento's dad (former Kamen Rider Calibur) went rogue in the backstory because he was given a vision of the future through his sword, and it led to the former Saber taking up the role of Calibur and going rogue in order to learn the truth. When the other riders are turned against Touma, the argument is over how he's destined to become more powerful, making Touma seem like he's seeking power and could be a future threat. When Kento returns from the dead, he's haunted by visions of the world ending in multiple variations, leading to him trying to seal the Sacred Blades in order to stop it. But then Master Logos is revealed to be buttfucking insane, wanting to rebel against his position in the world. Then it turns out the monster faction's leader, was a former poet who lost hope when he learned that all his creations were already in the Omniscient Tome, so he decided he would end the world his way rather than the predetermined ending. And even then, the world still ended the way it was always fated to end, even with Touma disappearing to nu-Wonderworld if only for a year.

The world wasn't saved, it was destroyed and then rebuilt because Mei wrote an online post that encouraged people to share their stories, which they did in oblivion even though these guys shouldn't have seen the post at all and instead just heard her voice.

Like, maybe the nu-World has free will. I'd buy that. But when applied to the 47 episodes I've spent the last year watching (alongside the Zenkaiger crossover episode), it felt pointless because it ended the way it was foretold in the Omniscient Tome. It didn't matter that Storious was defeated, fate was not averted. It's like, the complaints people have about the MCU post-Loki. It doesn't matter that Tony decided to sacrifice himself, because he didn't have free will. He was always going to sacrifice himself. Thanos was always going to snap away half the universe, and it would always be undone because choices didn't matter before Loki's ending.

And that's not even going into how they final arc reveals that Touma can somehow create stories not present in the Omniscient Tome. That he can somehow, because the personification of Wonderworld choose him as a child, that for some reason he's the only writer in history that can do this. His catchphrase is about how he'll be the one who'll decide how the story ends, but with the idea that everything was set into stone? It's laughable.

Like, my problem with Zero One's ending was the last scene. Aruto had learned a lot about the Humagears and was an advocate for them finding their own dreams as they became self-aware AI. So him trying to treat a new humagear as just an amnesiac Is  and try to help her “remember”? That felt like a betrayal of the character and what he stood for. But the post-series movie revealed that Is left a copy of herself in the Zero Two driver, and merged with the non-self aware nu-Is who the movie kept reminding us wasn't the Is we knew. Aruto even had a sobbing scene about what he was doing, lowkey acknowledging what he was doing but without overtly calling him out. It fixed Zero One for me after that last scene left me with a bad taste in my mouth that overshadowed an otherwise excellent show.

You can't fix Saber with a single movie, that's what I'm getting at here.

So, with that out of the way let's go into my thoughts on each character.

Touma: Is one of the blandest main riders in the franchise. His sense of style is probably one of the worst I've ever seen though. Like I know they like to try and give the main riders their own look rather than having them dress like normal people, like Aruto wearing a hoodie under his suit jacket alongside with his very bright shoes, but this wasn't a W or even something like Ghost (where honestly I really liked Takeru's robe-like shirts). What they eventually settled on with Touma was a stupid hat, really baggy pants, and shirts that look like they came out of a stern librarian's closest. You know, the type with her hair in a bun and their horned-framed glasses on a chain.

Rintaro:Is one of those cases where he's meant to be the secondary Rider of the series, but is overshadowed because the writer likes to use someone else more. The idea of him having to turn against the organization that raised him (like a child soldier) could have worked really well if the series had a more free will-direction. But alas.

Kento: Kento's the one character I found I could really like. His arc was more interesting during the first quarter, his return as Calibur, but then he returned to being Espada and, as much as I love that suit, he just became Touma's main cheerleader. Really, I felt like towards the end it was a waste of him, especially since he doesn't get any power ups like Rintaro did to solidify him as one of the main three. He definitely feels like a victim of rewrites or just the writer not knowing what he was doing.

Mei: The female lead. Honestly, I just found her annoying most of the time. A womanchild to match Touma's more manchild moments, with a potential romance with Rintaro thrown in to only be confirmed in a future movie. Really, she should have taken over as Espada after Kento disappeared early on (especially since she's one of the three in the Ending dance while Kento isn't).

Daishinji: I'd say best boy, but he became a background character pretty quick.

Ogami: An older Kamen Rider who is also a father to a young child? Cool, and could even have worked in contrast to Rintaro's raising as essentially a child soldier. But alas, it was not to be.

Ren: OMG. A somewhat psycho younger Rider, idolizing Kento, and his social Darwinist beliefs on strength leading to conflict as Touma gets more powerful, leading to him abandoning the team to train with an enemy monster? HOW DO YOU MAKE THAT NOT WORK! I swear, Ren should have been the secondary Rider of the series, with his changes in beliefs being used more effectively.

Yuri: One of the most competantly written characters in the entire show. One of the original swordsman who became his sword, returning after 2000 years and not only feeling the culture clash of then and now but even how the idea of what makes a hero has changed? Good boy. Also loved him using a shadow body early on during fights.

Sophia: Why are you even here?

Reika: Oh boy, the swordswoman who leads the rest to distrust Touma under the orders of Master Logos, and doesn't sway from this until he's proven to be batshit insane? And even then, reluctant to join the others? Could have been better, especially if her relationship with her brother didn't come across as incesty. Though, could we please return her to Magine in Zenkaiger? Reika hugging her was really cute, in a socially awkward type of way.

Ryoga: Reika's brother. With his powers being something out of Jojo, time manipulation powers which are a bit hard to explain. He starts them and to his opponents things seem like the fight is continuing as normal, but he really exists outside of that and then can attack from a blindspot? Could have been really good with if the series had gone Team Free Will is all I'm saying.

Master Logos: What I mentioned above, but his Rider suit is one I'm in lust with. Just laughs like a madman and you're wondering why Reika and Ryoga don't rebel against him earlier.

The Megid: Two are a waste who I never bothered to learn their names. Fall out of focus for a bit and only return to be beaten, with the sad fact that they were once human. Storious is the exception, but even then I felt he was a little too late to save the series.

Tassel: Bon Lecture! I still hate you you weirdo, even if your death scene made me feel a little sad. The fact that you treated the early parts of the show as a story you were reading? Have you seen my other complaints?

As for the message of what the show tried to say? I don't really mind it. It's encouraging people to love stories, even if they are copies (considering the controversy of Time Paradox Ghostwriter and Cheat Slayer within recent memory, I'm trying not to make jokes about Saber encouraging plagiarism). And I don't think that's a bad thing in itself. Hell, how many stories take stuff from older stories and just tweak elements to make them their own? I love the Elric saga, but that was based on old legends and meant to subvert the likes of Conan the Barbarian, and some other stories I've liked have borrowed elements from it as well. The idea that stories can be used to pass on our hopes, thoughts and dreams to others is pretty nice as well, rather than writing being a form of masturbation on the author's part.

But in the shadow of the Omniscient Tome and it's implications, I really feel the story should have taken another route.

A lot of Riders start of weak, having to introduce the plot as well as the main release of whatever trinket they want kids to gorge themselves on this year. But they usually start getting better towards the end of the first quarter, while maybe stalling a bit towards the end of the second/third. Saber was a series that I felt never really found it's legs. Too many bareboned plot threads on the go, dropping some for a while only to pick them up again after they've been forgotten about. This is not a good series, to be honest I think Zi-O and even Ghost were better, and really feel it would have been better handled in the hands of someone who could actually write. 

Not to mention, this gave me flashbacks of Power Rangers Megaforce over how much this series relied on fight scenes. Throw in greenscreen everywhere, lack of civilians...oh god, it is Kamen Rider Megaforce. And it felt like Saber was trying to have a story, unlike Megaforce, but it has the same “it’s a kid’s show, we don’t have to try that hard” energy.

[ashleyswrittenwords]

How to be a Queen [Part 24]

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

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Part 1

How To Be A Queen

Hyrule flooded the day Nathaniel Nohansen III died.

It had rained for three days. Castle Town had closed its shops and barely no one walked the streets. The storms were so harsh that it was hardly a premonition when they told me he was deteriorating quickly. I found him in his bed as he had been for months. Soft cries of my father filled the silence as he knelt at the bedside and grasped a limp hand in his own. Guilt twisted deep in my stomach when tears didn’t come.

“I’m so sorry, Nate,” Father sobbed. The words hardly intelligible. “I’m sorry.”

For months I had mourned for this moment. When he stopped responding to questions almost two weeks ago, my heart knew that this journey would have a finite end. In the very least, my father had some time to step out from his veil of ignorance before now.

Gods. No matter how much I tried to will myself to cry, I couldn’t.

I hadn’t thought about death so much in my life. When before it was a quiet promise of my youthful failures, now it was staring me down at every corner. These coming days, I thought of it as a fear that had become a flirtatious caller. War walked hand-in-hand with death. They were synonymous actions I had come to expect; violence paired with the spilling of blood.

Presently, it came to me as an eerily familiar vessel of a man I adored, sleeping forever. It was as if a trickster had carefully sculpted a copy of my uncle from wax and stole the real one away. There was no grave injury or pooling blood, just the deep feeling that something was horribly wrong. The blood in my veins ran cold and suddenly I could hardly bear to so much as glance at it – that wasn’t my uncle. Never had been after his eyes no longer smiled and his casual flirting with his nurse ceased.

Numbly, I pulled my hand from Father’s shoulder. His cries subdued to soft sniffling pleas for his older brother to wake up. I softly pried him away, but he didn’t give much resistance in the first place. As we walked away, I barely heard Father’s voice.

“I love you. So much.”

The body wouldn’t speak back because its wrinkles were far too sunken and its hands far too still. The silence behind us as we walked towards the door was deafening.

“I love you too,” I said, but his words weren’t for me.

----------

“Your Majesty,” a servant said, breaking me from a far-off stare. “The coroner mentioned that the ground was too soft to bury General Nohansen this week.”

Cold hands. Cold eyes.

Impa cut through, stepping between my desk and the man with a series of hushed mentions that made the servant satisfied enough to leave. Lightning struck in the distance and lit up the study through the uncovered window. Soberly, she turned to me with a white swinging braid.

“Allow me to handle the funeral.”

I went to shake my head. “I feel like I should do it myself.”

Her eyes pried into me, making me meet them no matter how badly I didn’t want to. Impa stood with square shoulders, appearing so tall even when she barely reached my shoulder. Then, she softened with folded hands before her. I knew what she was insinuating: I sounded like my father.

A chill slithered up my spine. It caused me to fold and fear engaged me.

“What else am I to do?” I pleaded. The careful guard I had unknowingly constructed was being chipped away by intrusive thoughts. For the remaining years of my life, there will never be a grin as toothy as his. My arms will never be swept up in such a warm embrace for as long as my heart is still beating. No laugh was as baritone as his once was; capable of escaping even the thickest walls.

Nothing, nothing, nothing could compete with the man who died without meaning.

Suddenly, my cheeks were wet and my bottom lip trembled unrelentingly. I stared up at the rafters, hoping the sniffling would subside as I cursed aloud, “I can’t even give him solid ground to rest under.”

“Listen to me,” Impa whispered, pulling me into her bosom. “Listen to me, child. He is with the goddesses.”

She repeated it like a mantra.

“I hate this,” I withered and folded into her arms. “I hate feeling so weak.”

The tears were bitter now, stinging me with their presence and making my throat burn with abandon. I was the Queen.

Legally, I thought to myself, I had all claim to everything around me. I knew that my predecessors had wielded their power to dominate entire kingdoms from the peaks of the northern mountains to the shores of the south. They had brought about bloodshed and dominion to people for reasons as little as wanting to feel the warmth of their burning villages. Only two generations before me had sent their dissenting opposition to the gallows.

So, why was it that I felt so powerless?

“Do you know why the goddess Hylia descended?” Impa hushed. “Why did She leave the comfort of the heavens?”

I tamed myself to calm, though my voice was still odd and gravelly. “Because she loved a man.”

A maternal hand patted my head and she spoke through a smile.

“No,” she started. “No, because She loved the people created by Her hand. When She heard of the dangers coming from the underworld and how a king born of shadows was laying claim to land Hylia’s sisters had left Her, She had a choice.”

Impa sat back on the floor, taking my hand in hers like how she did when she recalled to me old myths before bedtime. I swallowed and waited for her to continue.

“Hylia could stay in paradise and allow the world to be buried,” she said, framing the choices as if she didn’t know how it would end. “Or She could descend and give Her people a fighting chance – no matter how slim it was. What do you think She chose, Zelda?”

“She chose to fight.”

“Very good.”

She procured a handkerchief from her breast pocket and allowed me to dry my cheeks.

“So,” Impa drew me in again after a couple minutes. “As we know, the goddess spent years on the Surface fighting off the darkness. She rallied Her people to find hope in the darkness and for that, they revered her only more so. For years, some say decades, Hylia lived among mortals and learned their ways. In Her time, She found that gods do not experience existence the same as humanity does.

“When the mortals experienced disappointment, their eyes grew watery. With fatigue, they grew sluggish and weary – sometimes lashing out at loved ones. When they accomplished success in battle, broad expressions crossed their faces,” she mirrored my small smile, “and oftentimes they laughed. They say Hylia enjoyed seeing that emotion the most.

“Eventually She found herself partaking in these feelings and paralleling those expressions She had once considered redundant. Her love for these mortals had only increased since She descended. However, their battles were hard-fought and even with Her light, they had only been able to maintain their ground. That is, until one day the spirit of Her holy sword told Her another was worthy enough to wield it. His name is lost to time, but the books say he was a valiant solider. In him, Hylia found a partner; the ability to feel another triviality that suddenly wasn’t so trivial.”

Impa’s smile was sad and she grasped my hands tightly in hers. “That was when She learned to love a mortal man. You and I know how this ends.”

“He dies,” I answer for her with a thick voice.

“And when he dies, She is taught that there is danger in love’s beauty. Born from his death was grief, an emotion so strong the goddess feels She will die. Hylia, the goddess of light and mother to all, realizes that the mortals around Her had been experiencing this for all Her years on the Surface. In that, She grieves more because how could She be so blind to this pain?”

I had let myself slack again the back of my chair and stared at the embroidery of my skirt. When she stopped talking, I thought aloud. “Was it worth it?”

“We are alive today because of it. I think Hylia knew that even though it would be centuries, She would see him again after life settled and after Demise was properly sealed. Similar to when we will see our loved ones when we pass on, however I do pray that we have many more years before that day,” she allowed a light chuckle.

“Yes,” I laughed with a small sniffle, “I think Uncle will be very cross if I follow him too early.”

“Now then,” she pulled me from my chair and walked me to the door. “Let’s get you to your room. You deserve rest after today and the weather is perfect to lull you asleep. When you wake, we’ll have your favorite tea and cake.”

------

“It will be an uphill battle,” Whitehurst sniffed, reading through a copy of the report sent from.

It had been a week since Uncle died and I hated the feeling of wasting time. Finally sitting with a couple advisors with a fresh stack of news felt worlds away from where I once was.

I agreed with Admiral Whitehurst, combing over the words once more. The rebels had declared the Gerudo capital as their own and announced that the aristocracy have been puppets to topple the purity of Gerudo traditions. The handwriting was distracting, but I ignored the repeated leaps in my chest and thumbed the unopened letter in my lap.

“They call us heretics of the true gods,” I rose from my propped hand with a sigh. “And then attempt another strike on our food supplies meant for starving infants. Urbosa, am I misunderstanding?”

She breathed in and rubbed the soreness in her neck. “It seems to me that from their threats to Link that they don’t consider us their people and would prefer dead children whose parents refuse their preaching.”

Whitehurst was still wary of the aristocrat and peered from across the table. “Who are their gods? Do they reject our goddess?”

“Partially,” she said. “They ascribe to the ancient three. Whereas we see Hylia as being the guardian goddess left to protect their creation, they see her as a usurper – ironically.

“Traditional creation story dictates that Hylia took advantage of the original three’s absence and bore Hylians as her minions to take over the world. The guardians of the sand fought back, baring a people that would be called Gerudo. A champion rose among them and found the Triforce. He used that power to save his people. That’s what I was told as a child.”

The Admiral wrinkled his nose. “How dubious.”

“It’s fragmented across villages. Most Gerudo in the capital worship money more than religion,” she shrugged, barely taking mind in the man. “Allow us to remember that this was a tactic in the early wars to turn people away from Hylian culture.”

Whitehurst nodded, somewhat perturbed. “What does Her Majesty call for?”

I hummed in thought. There were twenty causalities in the one hundred that accompanied the supplies. Out of those casualties were two deaths.

“It seems like the plan to send reinforcements along with reserves was the go-to,” I asserted. “I would like to refer to you to increase the amount of food three-fold. Impa believes levying taxes with grain farming territories would motivate morale.”

The Admiral stood with a stack of papers and nodded, “I’ll draw up the order.”

The letter burned a hole through my skirts and I couldn’t help looking down. The report was addressed to my full title, but between the pages of reports was a smaller envelope that simply read: Zelda.

“Riju has sent her regards to you. She says she is saddened to hear of Nathaniel’s passing. I would let you read it, but she has difficulties writing in Hylian,” Urbosa said, folding up the paper with Riju’s signature on it and setting it aside. “Truly, Zelda, let me know if you need me in any way.”

“You say that as if you haven’t comforted me for several nights already,” I smiled, negating her.

“My people grieve as a community. The commonplace of isolating oneself is considered unhealthy, while here it is almost expected.”

The way she crossed her legs billowed her Hylian skirts out as if she were wearing a Gerudo sirwal. I could tell it made Admiral Whitehurst uncomfortable earlier and the thought made me laugh.

“You aren’t wrong. If we weren’t in the middle of war, the court would have expected a three-month mourning period from me,” I only shrugged off the notion, tidying up my papers and setting Link’s letter on top. “I simply cannot afford it right now.”

Especially when the rebels were proving to be more organized than we thought. Encampments were appearing in the East Barrens with foreign flags. Not long after they were discovered the heads of three Hylian spies were found not far from the road leading into Gerudo Town. As of now, we had no way of telling if their strength or numbers.

The woman nodded. “And you have other distractions.”

“I,” I paused, momentarily bewildered by her expression. “I beg your pardon?”

“Distractions, my dove,” she laughed, lifting a hand to lazily gesture at what was before me.

Warmth bloomed on my face as I snatched the letter from her prying eyes. Urbosa only laughed heartily, “I cannot help but recognize that that hand matches the one who scrawled your reports.”

She let my embarrassment fester a moment longer. “Oh, don’t worry,” she leered. “I never said it wasn’t a good distraction.”

“Urbosa. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but this is not a regular occurrence.”

“Everyone has a right to hold secrets.”

“This isn’t a secret!” I bristled with wide eyes. “It’s a personal correspondence.”

Understanding was on her face but amusement danced in her eyes, a light I was all too accustomed to. “I see, with a man you had a short ‘engagement’ with before he left for war.”

“Engagement,” I blanched, “Engagement?! There was no engagement about that night, I’ve told you the extent of it!”

“Ah,” she closed her eyes, reminiscing. “I remember the first Hylian who followed me around like a dog. I was about Riju’s age – maybe a little older – when we snuck into the stables and she-”

The door to my office opened and a servant slipped through. He cleared his throat, “Announcing the esteemed Rito-”

“No, no, no,” a demanding voice cut through and in the doorway came a face Zelda hadn’t seen in many months. “We’ve rehearsed this,” the midnight blue Rito chastised, “The esteemed Ambassador. Yes, that is who I am. My title. Ordained by your King. It really, truly isn’t that hard.”

He carried on in subdued whispers while the poor man stood awkwardly by the doorway.

“Revali,” I called out. Then again when he was too engrossed in his discussion. “Why are you accosting my squire?”

“Accosting?” he primed, finally pulled away. The man scuttled back through the doorway and quietly shut it behind him. “Zelda – first of all, I will take the liberty of saying hello first – I’m not sure whether it has always been this way or if it’s the product of your reign, but these butlers of yours aren’t acknowledging my status and frankly? I’m shocked and perhaps a little appalled at the sight.”

“She is your sovereign and you will regard him as such,” Urbosa asserted, her tone commanding with an earthy undertone that took up the room.

Revali puffed out his chest, looking between her and I with admonishment.

I cleared my throat, “If you’ve just arrived, perhaps you’re exhausted. I can lead you to a room. I would have met you at the door, but we were expecting you tomorrow.”

“No, no, your Royal Majesty,” the Rito seethed, staring at Urbosa as he bowed with sweeping wings.

Some things, or Ritos rather, never changed. Revali had been the Rito ambassador at Hyrule castle for about three years now. Unlike other ambassadors, he preferred his home outside of Rito Village over staying at the castle full-time. However, Father had always kept that group at arm’s length, so it suited both parties up until now.

I was familiar with him and his disposition with the short interactions we’ve had. He was the son of wealthy traders and had no problem entering the realm of politics. The Rito people were bold, some would classify their pride as arrogance; those that did hadn’t met Revali.

He nodded my way as he pulled out a seat next to Urbosa. “May I?”

Neither of us could speak before he sat down leisurely.

“I see there have been many changes since I’ve graced these halls,” he said, touching the tips of his fingers together and took full advantage of the chair’s seat. “Yet I haven’t a signal update from the Crown!”

“I have sent reports of our decisions to Chief Kaneli when he sent his official recognition that I was Queen.”

Dramatics abound, he turned to Urbosa. “Is it not my job to relay these matters to my leader? Regale to me, my Queen, how I am to perform my duty.”

“I have seen nothing from you until I called for your presence last week, Ambassador Revali,” I straightened and sent him a pointed look. “And I’m willing to take much from you because I value our connection, but do not think for a second that I will willingly take commands from you. I am not my father and will not entertain your abuses because unlike him, they do not amuse me whatsoever.”

His beak fell open, but no words came out. This time he didn’t bear a glance at Urbosa, whose smug look made me stifle a grin. I didn’t get that tone from thin air. The gap of silence was the longest I had ever heard in the vicinity of this man.

Revali coughed into his fist and awkwardly shifted in his seat. “I see that my words have been misconstrued. I did not mean offense.”

“I accept your apology.”

“Yes, well, to lead into my concerns – which are very justified, mind you – my deepest condolences for the loss of General Nohansen. Even our great airmen are deeply saddened,” he bowed his head, a pivot from the dominant air of before.

I offered a subdued smile.

“And your replacement doesn’t seem awful, but I hadn’t heard that you were looking to fill the position so soon.”

Urbosa tilted her head. “We are in a war. I’m not sure if you heard about my people being persecuted.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Of course I have heard of the mad man. Gerudo women are already masculine enough. Maybe the roles have reversed, and he will be easily squashed.”

I rested my head in my hand and sighed, “No. Much of the opposite it seems.”

The Rito held an indignant look as he examined the tip of his feathers. “Seems my services were much in need,” he mumbled.

“Pardon me?” I asked. Was he expecting an invitation to be considered?

Oh, actually, that sounds very in character for him.

“All I’m saying is that it was a statement sent from Her Majesty to me,” Revali emphasized with splayed fingers.

I glanced to Urbosa who was glaring daggers at the Rito. I clasped my hands together in front of me, “I promise you that no offense was meant, Ambassador. Truly, the process of filling the position of Commanding General of Hyrule’s Royal Army was tumultuous.”

Revali leaned back with a stiff shrug and crossed his legs, then immediately uncross them to vehemently point his feathered finger at the ceiling. “Make no mistake! No offense was taken on my part. Zero offense because I would have merely turned down the offer in the first place because my title as the Rito Ambassador is already time consuming. Incredibly. Unmatched, even, across of the board.”

“Oh,” I blinked. “I’m glad that you see it that way.”

The man huffed, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his right wing. “Indeed.”

“Zelda, I don’t think we should keep this from him.”

I turned to Urbosa, confusion written on my face.

“Don’t act coy. We can tell him,” she motioned towards Revali with a sweeping gesture. “Tell him how he was considered and how his resourcefulness would be better used elsewhere in the conflict.”

He chirped up and stared at me with wide eyes. I quickly nodded and masked any dubious expression.

“Oh, yes,” I piped up. “Your name was thrown into the mix several times by my cabinet.”

“It-it was?”

“Absolutely, Revali. You’ve been an incredibly valuable asset to Hyrule. Your years of service haven’t gone unrecognized, nor your training as a Rito airman. Such a wide variety of-” I tripped over a couple thoughts, looking for the right words.

Urbosa offered, “Skills?”

“Yes – thank you – such a wide variety of skills can’t be boiled down to ‘General’.”

Revali seemed to consider this greatly, rubbing his neck in thought. “Well,” he rasped. “Well, that I can understand. After all, Commanding General is largely a decorative title…”

“I wouldn’t necessarily go that far,” I muttered half of the sentence into my hand with a look at Urbosa. Ambassador Revali nodded affirmations to himself as he stared holes into the carpet.

“May I ask, Your Majesty,” he said, looking up finally. “What were your plans for me?”

I sat up in my seat and thumbed an ink quill in my hands. The feeling of opportunity rose in my chest with robust hope easing into my heart.

“I would like to inquire in your people’s support in defending fellow Hyruleans.”

He sat up with me, towards the edge of his seat.

“You mean to assert that you want additional support.”

“I do,” I said, feeling the pointed tip of the quill dig into my thumb. “The Rito and Hylian people used have strong bonds in meat trading. I wish to bridge the gap in the years our agreements fell through; even strengthen them more than what they once were.”

Revali seemed intrigued. “Under what pretense?”

“There’s no pretense,” I smiled, “I think we can both agree that Rito airmen are incredibly prolific through military history. Chief Kaneli’s support, no matter how little is, would be a great honor and assist our efforts in preserving the Gerudo aristocracy.”

“I can’t refute that,” he nodded. “I can say that Kaneli holds Her Majesty in the highest regard and has great hope for your reign… however our recent history has him wary. It will take some convincing.”

“I understand completely. If anything, do I have the Rito Ambassador’s support?”

He breathed a dramatic sigh. “Yes, I suppose you do.”

 --------

After meeting behind meeting, I snuck behind a rose bush in the gardens. The light was dying, but I couldn’t wait anymore. Wedged between the pages of my notebook was the small letter from before. It was no bigger than my hand and I took care to rip the wax-sealed seam.

Zelda,

I’m sorry this took so long to write.

A smile was already brimming my lips and I mouthed: Don’t be.

There was an attempted ambush as we passed Satori Mountain. Byron’s scouts spied them first and they were dispatched early on, but you should know this long before this letter reaches you. The supply line-

The last couple words were neatly crossed out.

I don’t know why I want to give you a report when you’ve most likely already read the one I’ve already written you. It’s been on my mind too much, but so have you. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer that morning and I’m sorry I couldn’t have been there when Nathaniel passed.

There’s so much I wanted to tell you before I left. Being alone with my thoughts while we traveled only added to that. I could write one hundred apologies about asking you to forget about us and then dredging it up again. One hundred more if the nights between left you just as distraught as I was. It’s hard for me to speak about my feelings and when it comes down to it – pretending they don’t exist is what I usually resort to.

I couldn’t do that with you. I care about you. I tried to convince myself I didn’t, hadn’t, and I failed miserably; only making it more known to myself how helpless you’ve made me.

And despite everything, I hope you’re smiling when you’re reading this because the selfish thought keeps me from ending this letter. I want to talk to you as I do this paper and hear your witty remarks that are far too intelligent for your own good. The same intelligence that I am convinced will end this conflict far sooner than I anticipate so I can see you again.

But I’m rambling.

I’m safe. The only casualty on the road was a lad with a twisted ankle. I did run into the boys from Hateno. Do you remember Mac and Toma Ratliff? They thought it was a prank when someone mention “General” in front of my name and got written up for insubordination.

Nonetheless, Zelda, I will wait for you.

Yours,

Link

[clexa--warrior]

There’s a new group of villains on Fear The Walking Dead.

Well not entirely new. These are the same people who’ve been scrawling “The end is the beginning” everywhere. The same people with the submarine who are looking for Morgan who took the Magical Key from the bounty hunter way back at the beginning of Season 6.

I admit, I’m just kind of tired at this point. Tired of all the bullshit and bad writing and the tedious characters and the predictable stories. Tired of the parade of mediocre villains. Bone weary. And yet here I am, still reviewing this damn show.

Let’s take a little walk down memory lane, shall we?

TV’s Greatest Villains

At the beginning of Season 5, after the Most Horrible Villain Of Any Walking Dead Show was taken care of at long last, we got a new group of bad guys who . . . just wanted their warehouse back? And directions to an oil refinery?

Truly, these were now The Most Horrible Villains Of Any Walking Dead Show Ever.

Logan (played by a woefully underutilized Matt Frewer) was the head honcho of these bad apples and he fooled Morgan’s group into flying a plane they didn’t know how to fly far, far away to help some strangers in another part of the vast continent of Texas. Then he . . . moved back into his warehouse! The bastard.

After half a season of trying to fix the plane so they could fly back across the Pacific Ocean (which we all know separates the two halves of Texas) Logan tries to pretend like he’s a decent guy and fools the Morganites into showing him where the oil refinery is. Dastardly Logan! Then, just when Morgan and Logan decide that their names are similar enough that they might as well be friends, the Rangers show up!

They show up on horses with rifles and expertly kill Logan and every single member of his crew but for reasons (reasons!) they spare Morgan and the Morganites. It turns out that Logan was working for the evil witch queen of Lawton, Virginia—Truly The Most Horrible Villain Of Any Walking Dead Show Ever (Seriously). She is so evil that she kills the people working for her, who helped lead her to the oil refinery, and spared some people she didn’t know who weren’t loyal to her at all for reasons.

Yes, you heard me. Reasons! You don’t get to know the reasons. That’s not how scripts work. Scripts are supposed to be confusing, opaque and riddled with plot holes and inexplicable character choices.

Anyways, Virginia and the Rangers with their horses and their cowboy hats and their idyllic Texas aesthetic become the new Big Bads sometime in the second half of Season 5. Morgan and Friends make a PSA documentary to make sure anyone wandering from gas station to gas station is able to know who to call (GHOSTBUSTERS!) if they’re in trouble (which, like, yeah it’s a zombie apocalypse) because Morgan really wants to make up for all the bad things he’s done and so do all his friends.

Virginia is very mean, though, and so she makes a PSA, too, and that pisses Morgan off so bad that he takes his people far, far away to an abandoned Western-themed park-town filled with zombies and they make another PSA on the way that’s even more amazing and magical but a dude dies making it, marking the Best Walking Dead Death of All Time in the process. Seriously a dude decides it’s so important to film a selfie shot for the PSA that he dies when a bridge that’s collapsing surprisingly collapses! And then everyone is very sad!

Then, uh, after a spell at the new town that has no resources or water because it’s a theme park town instead of a real town, Wes and Alicia paint some stuff and June and John Dorie get married and Daniel plays some guitar and sings and Frank Dillane is like “Holy shit I’m so glad I bailed on this show” and then Virginia comes because Morgan calls her because instead of walking somewhere else they decide they should call the Evil Witch Queen Of Lawton so she can rescue them by splitting them all up (even Skidmark the cat!) and then the season ends with Morgan getting swarmed by zombies but don’t worry he’s still alive and they’ll tell us as much in a trailer that comes out before Season 6 because AMC is criminally addicted to spoiling their own shows for no reason on social media and . . . and . . .

Somewhere between Season 5’s finale and Season 6’s premiere AMC and showrunners Ian Goldberg and Andrew Chambliss must have put their heads together with Scott Gimple and decided that the Rangers and Virginia were actually super dull villains, just like the last few villains (I skipped the whole Vultures plot because they were actually so stupid they put the stadium under siege but still let Madison and co. go out scavenging because somehow they never read the Siege 101 manual or something).

Anyways, for reasons that must be obvious by now, somebody must have pointed out that Virginia is not a very good villain after all, partly because she’s just not that convincing but mostly because she made a goddamn copycat PSA and someone thought that was actually a cool story because there is no God and life’s not fair and this is also why we can’t have nice things, son.

And they must have realized that the Rangers are a like a cartoon version of what might happen in Texas after a zombie outbreak (just compare this clown show to the far more realistic Vatos gang from Season 1 of The Walking Dead). All these realizations must have felt strangely repetitive after what I can only imagine were similar revelations about Martha, the Vultures and Logan. So many revelations, so little useful insight or meaningful changes!

The Believers

In any case, they had June kill Virginia after a weird series of events that also saw one of the only good characters left on this godforsaken show get killed by yet another brat, and came up with The Believers, a group almost entirely inspired by The Monkees. These totally realistic folk live underground where they grow crops and embalm zombies and talk about how you need to be able to “see” when you look at this one creepy zombie they have entwined in vines in their basement. They’re led by a guy named Teddy played by John Glover who must really be down on his luck to take a role on this ridiculous show, though he’s actually creepy as a villain so that’s something. But no, I’m not going to feel any hope or optimism because fool me once shame on me, fool me again and George W. Bush, man. He has something to say about this.

Wes and Alicia and Al and Luciana all find their way to these people. I honestly can’t remember how they found them, but they show up to scout things out. They get interviewed like we’re back in Alexandria. Things go bad when Wes runs into his long-lost brother and ends up killing him after a scuffle over a gun. Wes’s brother has had a little too much of that Kool-Aid if you know what I mean. Wes isn’t too shook up about it. Remember when the entire brothers Dixon conflict between Merle and Daryl played out over the course of one single episode of The Walking Dead? Yeah, me neither.

Luciana says stuff because she’s still on this show for some reason. She says stuff a few times and people say stuff back to her. Al checks an embalmed zombie with a helmet on thinking it might be her lover girl from Season 5, because you totally embalm zombies with their helmets still on, but it’s not. Boy I was really worried there for a second!

Alicia sets the embalmed zombies on fire so they can get away and the others escape but Alicia doesn’t and then she has to have a whole entire conversation with Teddy and it’s pretty damn awkward when she tells him “You wanna kill me? That’s not gonna happen.”

Teddy’s like “whoa damn I was going to kill you but now that’s not going to happen crap” and Alicia’s like “So there, Teddy. You jerk face with your crazy-man beard.”

He knows something about Madison somehow. And he wants to “save you, Alicia” but “I don’t need saving” she tells him and then he talks in more cryptic circles. Teddy’s been looking for someone like Alicia for a long, long time and she’s like “listen old man at least I got some lines this episode!” which, to be fair, is true.

THE END. CREDITS ROLL.

Verdict

Yes, I am clearly mocking just about everything about this show. But I didn’t come up with this crap. I didn’t come up with Martha and the ethanol, or the plane and the beer-balloon, or Totally Pointless Logan, or Ginny and her boring ass cowboys. Maybe Teddy will be a better villain than all these. To be fair, he is a better villain already in a lot of ways. Then again, the bar set by the Vultures, Martha, Logan and Virginia is not very high. It’s so low, it’s less a bar and more of a speed bump.

So while Teddy is far more intriguing than the rest, and it’s even possible that Glover’s brief appearance here in this episode was better than the sum of all the other villains in this show since Season 4, I imagine they’ll find a way to screw him up also and then, as soon as he’s worn out his welcome, replace him with some other group of bad guys. The Shouters, a group of post-apocalyptic crazy people who wear zombie faces and shout at each other really loud, led by a bald woman named Alphapha.

Here’s the thing.

We need more than just Good Guys vs Bad Guys. There are other struggles to work with in fiction. Friction between the group that causes realistic, compelling internal strife. Survival against the elements and just the struggle of surviving in a world laid low by a pandemic, maybe without creature comforts like walkie-goddamn-talkies. Or perhaps a compelling story about a survivalist group at odds with a Native American tribe over water rights, whose intertwined family histories are marred by murder and revenge, where our heroes find themselves torn between both sides of a bloody fight they know very little about.

Yeah, what a notion.

Like I said at the very top of this review, I’m tired. I’m tired of Fear The Walking Dead. I’m tired of the same crap happening over and over again, another absurd bad guys who ultimately make the same fatal choice: They mess with Morgan Jones. NOBODY messes with Morgan Jones.

Maybe Morgan can make a PSA about how mean and delusional Teddy is and then Teddy can make a PSA about how The End Is The Beginning, Actually, Morgan You Twit. It’s just all nonsense at this point and it has been since the end of Season 3. We aren’t dealing with actual stories about real people. We’re watching a cartoon with two-dimensional cartoon villains and a bunch of uninteresting flat characters. Except a cartoon would be more fun.

What is the point of this show now? It’s like a goofier version of The Walking Dead, which also suffers from too many villain groups at this point and too many characters but not this level of crappy writing (usually).

Let me predict the plot for the remainder of Season 6 and likely part of Season 7 if AMC is actually going to let the current showrunners continue driving this show into the ground:

Teddy wants the key from Morgan so he can use it to activate the nuclear bombs on the nuclear sub that’s in the middle of Texas (because Texas, you recall, is separated by the Pacific Ocean which has dried up because ZOMBIES and the sub is there now). He wants to nuke the planet because he wants to save everyone because they’re weak probably. From this nuclear wasteland, new life will spring eternal and his cult—well protected in their underground parking garage with their cute little gardens—will be the new rulers of the world. Or at least of Texas which—we know because of geography class—accounts for approximately 57% of Earth’s land mass.

Look, I’m sorry. I’m really truly sorry but if this show continues to be a joke I don’t know why we should take it seriously. A mocking review if only fitting for a show that continues to make a mockery of itself. AMC has the resources and the wherewithal to produce a better zombie show and quite frankly audiences deserve one. There was nothing fundamentally awful about “The Holding” so I’m honestly not fully sure why I’m in such a snarky mind frame, but there was nothing very good about, either, and it’s just plain as day to me that they’re already falling into the same traps they keep falling into over and over and over again. Meet the new bad guy, same as the old bad guy. It’s all so predictable.

Because they don’t really learn from their mistakes, or because even if they do they just don’t know how to course correct. That’s the problem when you just don’t have much talent but nobody steps in and says “enough is enough!”

Because seriously, my droogies, enough is enough already.

[cutaepatootie]

Now or Never - 07 | FINAL

Pairing: Hoseok | Reader Genre: racer hoseok au / angst / smut  Word Count: 17.2k

A/N: oh wow, this was a long ride *pun intended* Anyways, here it is, the final chapter of this serie. It’s sad to finally write down everything I thought about while listening to Now or Never by Halsey more than a year ago. Seeing everything finished makes me feel sad and I don’t know how to feel about this part, if I like it or not... But I hope you do :) Thanks for being here. Lots of love!

→ Aesthetic Post

Pt. 01 | Pt. 02 | Pt. 03 | Pt. 04 | Pt. 05 | Pt. 06 | Pt. 07 final

“Hello?” the male voice says through the other side of the line.

“Hi.”

“Y/N? I thought you had deleted my number?”

“You texted me the other day, remember?” you say, biting your lower lip.

“And you left me on read,” Hoseok sighs. “I thought maybe you needed some space or something.”

“I thought so too,” you whisper.

You lower your head and lean your back on the locker behind you. Hoseok remains silent too.

“Can I see you tonight?” you mumble after a few seconds.

You can hear his doubt even through the phone.

“A… Are you sure you wanna see me? I don’t wanna rush you into anything,” he says.

“I’m sure,” you nod reassuringly.

“Okay, well then… I’m dying to see you too,” he says, and you can imagine him with that radiant smile drawn on his lips.

It only breaks your heart even more.

“I’m at work right now, but my shift ends in fifteen minutes,” you say, looking at the clock that almost marks midnight.

“I’ll be there in ten,” he says, hanging up.

You sigh, putting your phone in your backpack. Bringing your knees to your chest, you hug them tightly. Tonight is your last day at work. To say that you’ll miss it would be a complete lie, but the fact that you won’t work here anymore means more than just stop coming here ever week, or stop getting paid.

Just as he said, in less than ten minutes Hoseok is there, letting you know through text message.

After saying goodbye to your colleagues, you leave the hospital through the staff door. There he is, inside his silver Porsche waiting for you.

Quickly, you walk towards the car looking around you and making sure no one is there watching you, even though you wouldn’t be surprised to find Mark somewhere.

“Hey,” Hoseok says once you get in the car, hesitant. He doesn’t know how to approach you.

You guess you’re the one to blame, since you ignored his texts and called him out of the blue.

“Can we just go for a ride?” is all you say.

He looks at you one more time before igniting the engine and getting out of the parking lot.

You remain silent as you press your forehead to the glass of the passenger window. You watch the streetlights disappear as you pass by, leading to deserted streets and dark alleys. The neon lights adorn the tall buildings of the city and the last buses leave their passengers on their stops. It looks like a completely different world by night.

You don’t know where Hoseok is leading you, you just wanted to escape with him for a few hours, maybe make yourself believe that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t have to betray the only person that has kept loyal to you through these past months.

Finally, the car reaches a more secluded are on the outskirts of the city.

It is a small mountain from where you can see the landscape of the city, all its lights looking like stars in the distance.

Hoseok stops the car and turns off the engine, leaving the radio on as soft music plays on the background. The only lights that enlighten you both are the ones from the panel of the car.

“Are you okay?” he asks after a short silence.

You’ve thought about it all week, about Mark’s words and threats. Your sister was all that mattered to you, or so you thought, because making a decision has been more difficult than you thought it’d be. Sure, you had feelings for Hoseok, but you had never thought that they had reached the point where sacrificing you and Hoseok for your sister would be something you needed to think about more than once.

You’ve thought about telling Hoseok and convincing him to help you, but how would he react when you told him that you were the mysterious new racer of the Black Panthers? His rival. You know he likes you, and that he wants to keep seeing you and is willing to take the risk… But does he feel the same way about you? Does he love you? You don’t know that for sure, you don’t know if he would be willing to risk more than his position in the Blue Eagles for you and your sister, much less after hiding such a secret from him all this time. Plus, if Mark found out he had helped you… Would your sister be safe?

“Hey,” he calls once again when you stay still and don’t say a word. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You shake your head, your eyes still somewhere far from that car.

“Y/N, baby,” he whispers, two of his fingers grabbing your chin softly and turning your head towards him. “Talk to me.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

Can you trust him?

You open your eyes and stare at his. In the darkness of the car you can see their vivid shine, that same shine that dragged you towards him in the first place.

You open your mouth to speak, to tell him the truth… But somehow, you stop yourself.

Who is the man who is sitting in that car with you? You don’t know him. He is Jung Hoseok and he is a racer of the Blue Eagles. Apart from racing, he deals with drugs and does other jobs for his gang. But, has he ever killed somebody? Has he ever had his heart broken? Does he have a family? Dreams? Plans for the future? Does he like coffee in the mornings or is he a tea person? Does he like rainy days or sunny days? Does he prefer the right side or the left side of the bed?

You only know his name and his preferences in sex, that he likes Tinashe and that he enjoys dancing, but further than that, you don’t know him. Can you put your sister’s life in the hands of a stranger just because you’re in love with him? For God’s sake, you’ve only known him for four months.

As you stare into his eyes, you realise you don’t really know who Hoseok is, all the conversations you have had have been light-weighed and banal, you’ve only slept in the same bed once and all you have are some passionate nights and funny moments to remember.

“I’m just stressed for my final exams,” you end up saying, the lump in your throat getting tighter and making you feel as if you are being strangled.

“Oh shit, they were this week,” he growls. “I completely forgot, sorry for not asking you about them.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Did they go well?”

“I don’t know,” you honestly say. “I was a bit distracted and I didn’t study during the weekend.”

“Oh, c’mon, you’re a nerd,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sure you had studied everything the month before the exams.”

You smile lightly. How is it that he even makes you smile when you’re feeling like a shit?

“Shut up, I like to take a last review.”

“Sure,” he teases you.

You punch him in the arm playfully and he smiles.

“There’s something else going on in that mind of yours, I can see it.”

Ugh, you hate how he always reads you like an open book.

“You can read minds now?” you joke, trying to change the topic.

“I’ve always been able to, it’s just a secret I wanted to keep,” he says. “But don’t try to distract me, tell me what’s wrong.”

You roll your eyes, but let him grab you from your waist and pull you towards him until you’re sitting on his lap. Slowly, he pushes his seat backwards so you have more space.

You bring a hand to his cheek and caress his soft skin.

“I’ve been wondering… I barely know you,” you whisper softly. “You always read me so well, but when it comes to you… You hide behind that funny-and-cool-guy façade and I can’t see beyond it.”

Hoseok sighs and turns serious. Then, he leans backwards so his back is pressed to the back of his seat.

“What do you wanna know?” he asks after a few seconds.

“I don’t know,” you blurt out. “Everything? A lot of things?”

He smiles softly and lets his hands roam your back, calming you.

“Start with something easy please.”

“Who are you, Hoseok?”

“Oh wow, I asked you to start with something easy,” he jokes before turning serious once again. “What do you mean by that?”

You sigh and get more comfortable on his lap.

“I mean, I barely know you. You have all this faces I’ve seen, but I don’t know which one of them is the real you,” you say as a flash of hurt crosses his features.

“I’ve always shown you the real me.”

“Yeah, but is it the funny and laid-back guy, or the cocky drug seller? Or maybe the mysterious and quiet racer? The calm boy who can sit for hours at a party doing nothing or the energetic boy who loves dancing and gets scared of fair rides?”

He tears his hands from their grip on your back and looks at you sternly.

“I’m all of them.”

You shake your head and bring a hand up to caress one of his cheeks.

“I refuse to think that the same boy who makes love to me all night long and always makes me laugh and comforts me is the same person that deal with drugs and races illegally and do all sorts of other illegal activities.”

“Well, sorry to break it to you, but I’m the same,” he says lifting his hands up in the air.

“I just want to know you better.”

“And you? What about you?” he snaps, changing the topic and directing it to you. “Is the girl that studies at a good university and barely ever attends to frat parties the same that belongs to a gang and hooks up with a criminal?”

“You’re not a criminal.”

“I deal with drugs, race illegally and do all sorts of other illegal activities,” he says, repeating your previous words. “That sounds like a criminal to me.”

You sigh. Because he’s always like this. You take one step forward and he takes two steps back.

“My father abandoned us when I was twelve. I can’t stand my mother and as soon as I reached sixteen I moved from home. Ever since then I’ve been paying my own rent, my studies, I’ve been saving money so when my sister turned sixteen she could come and live with me in another city far from our mother. That’s why I joined the Black Panthers too, because of the money and the freedom they offered me, and when the races finish, I’m planning on moving with my sister – who turned sixteen last week – to another city. One far from here. That’s it, that’s everything you need to know about me,” you say barely breathing in between sentence and sentence.

Besides Lynn, Hoseok is the only person you’ve told about your family and your personal life.

You wait for him to say something, but he just remains there contemplating you with that same blank expression. Not being able to stand the silence, you start talking once again.

“I love history and I would like to be a nice historian, maybe work as an annalist for some cool magazine or newspaper, travel the world and go to every single museum in this planet. I am rather shy and quiet, it takes a long time before I trust someone and even then, I don’t show my true self until I’m a hundred percent sure I can trust them. I am independent and I hate when someone is constantly asking me what I’m doing or how I am. I like silent places and cars. I like racing because it makes me feel the owner of my own life. I hate spicy things and love tea, oh and I always choose the left side of the bed.”

You finish with a deep breath and then look at Hoseok. You can swear you’ve never seen him looking at you with such an intensity. Reality dawns over you when you realise you just told Hoseok everything about you – in a rather summarised way – and suddenly you feel scared.

Why isn’t he saying anything? Did you go too far? He told you he liked you, and that he wanted to keep seeing you, but maybe he just wants sex and you misunderstood him.  

Biting your lower lip and scolding yourself mentally, you start pulling away from Hoseok. Just as he notices you moving, he grabs your hips and forces you to stay in place.

“You’re moving to another city?” he asks.

You scoff and fight against his grip.

“That’s all you have to say after everything I told you?” you spit. “You ask me if I’m moving even after opening myself to you like that?”

With anger running fiercely through your entire body, you grab his wrists and force him to pull away from you.

“Let me go,” you growl.

“Wait, no, Y/N,” he says, fighting against you.

“Let me go Hoseok,” you say through clenched teeth. He’s stronger than you and resists your movements.

“No until you let me speak.”

“You spoke, and said the most stupid thing you could’ve said.”

“So, asking the girl I’m crazy for if she’s going to move is a stupid thing?”

You stop your movements and look at him with wide eyes.

“Are you going to answer my question?” he asks. “Are you going to move to another city?”

Looking at his eyes and nodding is painful, but you do it anyway.

“As soon as the races end?”

“Yeah, my sister will have ended school and I will have graduated. We have nothing else that ties us to this place anymore.”

“Not even the Black Panthers?”

“No.”

“Not even me?” he asks.

You take a moment to think. Of course you would love staying in here and keep seeing Hoseok, but it would lead you nowhere. Your mother would make sure to ruing yours and your sister’s lives, she was an important person in this city and she had contacts. She would make sure you wouldn’t find a job and that you wouldn’t be able to pay for a rent and your sister’s studies, so the both of you would have to return home with the tail between your legs. And you aren’t even sure the thing between you and Hoseok would have a future. Are you willing to sacrifice everything you’ve been fighting for, for a boy you met barely four months ago?

“I just don’t know any other thing that isn’t racing or being part of a gang. My father was part of one, my sister too, and then my cousin. He was the one who introduced me to the Blue Eagles when I was fourteen, and I guess this is all I’ve done ever since then,” he shrugs. “It’s simple as that. This is all I am and all I’ve ever been. I’ve always had a happy life, I love my family and my friends. This is my life and all that I’ve got and I never told you about it because, to be honest, I never thought I would feel the need to.”

He brings you closer to him and you let him do whatever he pleases with you.

“At first it started as something dangerous and thrilling, I didn’t care about you, who you were or your damn gang, but then… I don’t know what this is anymore,” he sighs, running a hand through your hair.

“You aren’t going to leave this even if I ask you to follow me and run away from this shitty city, are you?” you softly ask.

“No,” he sincerely answers.

And that’s all you need to know. He likes you, maybe he even loves you, but he loves his lifestyle even more. You don’t blame him for it. You love him, but you also have things that are more important, like your sister and your future. You don’t want to belong to a gang all your life, you don’t like this lifestyle of running and escaping and hiding.

You stare deeply into his eyes and he stares back deeply into yours.

“What the fuck are we doing then?” you scoff, laughing bitterly.

“Just living the moment,” he answers, grabbing your jaw and connecting his lips with yours.

You follow his lips and tongue, his passionate movements and lewd sounds. It’s all so raw and vivid, but it’s always been like that when it comes to you and Hoseok.

He parts his lips from yours after biting harshly on your lower lip, and he starts tracing kisses down your neck. You move yourself closer to him and grabs the back of his neck, pressing his face ever harder against you.

“We’re gonna get hurt in the end,” you mutter, biting your already sore lower lip to prevent you from moaning.

“Who cares,” he growls, his voice muffled because of your skin. “It was fucking worth it.”

He parts his lips from your skin and looks at you in the eye.

“We’re always talking about getting caught and the others finding out, about us being in danger because of this, but who fucking cares anymore,” he growls again. “I want you and you want me.”

He grips your cheeks tightly, forcing you to stay in place and look at him.

“I fucking want you so much I don’t care about them finding out about us or about us being in danger,” he says with his jaw clenched tight. “When this all ends we’ll remember it and think, ‘fuck, it was so worth it’.”

You gulp down and lean forwards to attach your lips to his once again. He’s right. This was so fucking worth it.

You start grinding on his lap as Hoseok deepens the kiss, grabbing the back of your head and pressing you against him. The radio keeps sounding in the background as the sound of ragged breaths starts filling the car.

You could never have enough of Hoseok. The feeling of his hardening member against your core as you grind on him, the friction between the material of your jeans turning you on even more. His hands grabbing every curve of yours, his slender fingers tracing every millimetre of skin. The way his lips feel against yours. His taste. His smell. His sounds.

Panting from all the kisses, you pull back and grab the hem of his t-shirt. Instead of smirking and teasing you as he usually would, he just lifts his arms and lets you take off his t-shirt. As soon as the piece of fabric is gone and thrown in the back of his car he reattaches his lips to yours fervently.

He pushes you backwards until your back hits the steering-wheel, hitting the claxon and causing a loud noise to fill the place. You don’t even acknowledge it, as you let Hoseok take off your denim jacket.

He wastes no time as he finds the hem of your t-shirt and sneaks his hands inside of them so he can caress the soft skin of your stomach.

You moan, letting your head fall backwards as Hoseok’s lips traces kisses from your lower lip to the junction in between your collarbones. His hands trail up until they find your bra.

He cups both of your breasts with his hands and squeezes them while he keeps ravishing your neck with his kisses. Another moan escapes from your lips when he pulls your bra down and you feel your breasts bouncing a he sets them free.

“Oh God,” you mumble when you feel his hands on your breasts again, caressing them, rounding the nipples in between his index finger and his thumb, squeezing them and seizing them with both his hands.

“You like this, babe?” he asks, his voice muffled as he keeps kissing your collarbones.

“Yeah,” you gasp. “Yeah, I love this.”

“Hmm… I love your tits,” he growls, giving them a particular hard squeeze as if to emphasize his words.

“H… Hoseok,” you moan.

“Fuck.”

With a sharp movement, he takes his hands from under your t-shirt and as soon as you lift your arms, he takes it off. He leaves your bra on, still pulled down a bit so he can see your breasts.

He spanks you when you start grinding on his crotch once again.

“Do you want my cock? Is that why you’re grinding on my lap like a needy slut?”

You nod, biting your lower lip and looking at him through your lashes, your eyes almost closed in the bliss state you’re in.

“Keep grinding on it babe, I want you to come in your pants for me.”

“Ah…” you breathe when he lifts his hips upwards to meet yours. “Keep going, please.”

“You like this?”

“Yeah.”

He grabs your hips and pulls you down on him with strength. You almost see the stars as you feel the damp material of your panties sticking to your core from the collision, his hard cock feeling delicious under your movements.

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna make me cum in my pants too if you keep going at it like this.”

It’s so filthy, you grinding on his cock like that inside his silver Porsche, parked in the middle of nowhere, all lights out except for the panel’s lights, about to cum in your own pants from the movements of Hoseok’s hips underneath yours and his dirty words whispered in your ear.

“I’m about to cum,” you gasp in his ear, holding tight to his neck as he presses your hips against his. “Hoseok, I’m… I’m…”

You don’t have time to finish your sentence, as a wave of pleasure fills your body from head to toe and you clench your teeth to prevent you from screaming. It’s as if all strength was taken away from you and you’re only left with some limp limbs and a fucked out state.

You keep holding onto Hoseok’s neck, feeling as if you could crumble down in any moment from the intensity of your orgasm. You hide your face in the crook of his neck and let him ride out your orgasm, still moving your hips forwards and backwards against his crotch, his cock still painfully hard.

“Fuck, are you okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you laugh, moving your face from the crook of his neck and looking at him. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he simply says, reaching underneath the driver’s seat and pressing a button, pulling the seat backwards until it reaches its limit. “Now kneel in front of me.”

You do as he says, shifting uncomfortable when you feel the wetness of your panties and jeans in the crotch area. Lifting your eyes, you stare and Hoseok and mentally keep that image of him looking just as fucked out as you must look. His hair is sticking out everywhere, his eyes dark with lust, half-closed. Red cheeks, swollen lips, marks of your kisses on his neck, sweat glistening down his bare chest.

“Take my belt and my jeans off.”

You do as he says with sharp movements. His dark boxers have a wet spot just where you can make out the head of his cock.

“You know what to do next,” he smirks, and caresses your cheek before letting you go.

You look into his eyes and an idea pops in your mind. Reaching backwards, you unclasp your bra and let it fall.

“Hey, who said you could take your bra off?” Hoseok quickly reprimands you.

You smirk. “I don’t need a bra for what I’m about to do.”

You run your fingers over his clothed erection before taking his boxers off, Hoseok lifting his hips from his seat so you can slide them down his legs and throw them somewhere in the back of his car along with the rest of your clothes.

“And you’re about to…?” he impatiently says when he sees you making no move towards his cock to take it into your mouth.

You observe it for a moment, standing against his lean stomach.

Grabbing the base of it, you pump a couple of times.

“Babe…” Hoseok warns you.

You smirk internally and move yourself closer to him, both of his legs resting against your sides as your stomach makes contact with the leather material of his seat. You lean closer to him and, with your free hand, grab both of your breasts.

You drag his cock closer to your chest until the soft skin of your breasts is completely surrounding it.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” Hoseok growls as he watches you collect saliva and spit it on the tip of his cock.

You use both of your hands to grab your breasts and keep Hoseok’s cock in between them. You look at him and his fucked out expression and then, you start moving up and down.

“Oh my… I won’t last long like this… Fuck.”

“Well, you better not cum if you want to fuck me afterwards,” you smirk. You usually let him take the lead and you barely speak if not to say thanks or how you’re feeling, but right now, kneeling in front of him, his warm cock in between your breasts as you move them up and down, encourages you to tease him a little bit.

Hoseok glares at you and goes to say something that turns into a growl when you spit on your chest once more, the saliva dripping down your skin and finding the tip of his cock as it appears in between your breasts.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he says, bringing his hands to his hair and pulling from it as he rests his head on the headrest, closing his eyes and trying to focus on not coming so soon. “I can’t stop picturing my cock disappearing in between your pretty tits.”

You smirk and fasten your pace, hearing a loud moan from Hoseok and a wide range of curses.

“Stop, stop,” he says in a rush, coming back down to reality and grabbing your shoulders to stop your movements.

He then grabs your arms and forces you up until your straddling his lap once more. Sticking out his tongue, he places it in between your breasts and lick the skin there clean.

“I can’t cum yet, I need to fuck that pretty cunt of yours.”

You bite your lip and take off your jeans, so only your panties are left.

“They’re fucking soaked,” he growls, helping you take them off.

When the black panties are on his hands, he smirks and suddenly leans forwards to open the small glove box.

“They’ll bring me luck tomorrow, when I’m racing against that fucking racer of yours. They’ll be my lucky charm from now on.”

Your brain completely ignores his words as you watch him keep your ruined panties inside his glove box and closing it afterwards.

“You don’t need any lucky charm,” you scoff. “You’re the Ghost Eagle, the invincible racer.”

“Yeah, but when I beat that son of a bitch’s ass and cross the finish lane I will think about them and how they’re soaked in your juices. Of how hard you came from grinding on me,” he says, placing open-mouthed kisses all over your neck. “Of how good your moans sounded.”

“Ah, yeah?”

“Yeah. And I’ll think about how pretty your face was too.”

“It’s funny hearing this from you, then man with no weakness crumbling down at the thought of some panties in his glove box.”

“One, they’re not just some panties. And two, the man with no weakness does have a weakness.”

“Yeah?” you ask, somehow a small, bright light, switching inside your brain.

“Yeah. You wanna know what it is?”

You nod, biting your lower lip.

“You,” he says, he’s expression turning serious.

Your eyes widen briefly, but you force yourself to hide your commotion and just smirk.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you’re my fucking weakness,” he sighs. His hands start roaming down your naked body, grabbing your hips and lifting them so they’re just hovering above his erection. “You got me crazy.”

He grabs the base of his cock and pumps it a couple of times before sinking your body down on it.

You growl as he doesn’t even warn you and before you can adjust to his size, he starts moving.

“Completely crazy,” he growls again and again, pressing your body to his. “I’d do anything… Ah… I’d do anything for you.”

“If you’d do anything for me, then get out of this shitty city with me.”

He stops for a moment.

“You know I can’t,” he sighs.

“Then it’s not true that you’d do anything for me.”

With a harsh snap of his hips against yours, words disappear completely from your mind and you’re left speechless. You hold onto his neck and hide your face in the crook of his neck as Hoseok starts fucking you wildly.

“Don’t ask that from me,” he pants. “I already told you it’s my life, I can’t just simply disappear.”

You close your eyes, letting the feeling of Hoseok inside you fill your senses completely. You can’t just tell him you’re that son of a bitch whom he is willing to beat their ass. You can’t just ask him to let you win the races. You can’t just ask him to betray his family, the Blue Eagles, for you. He just told you, between them and you he would always choose them. And in a way, you understand him. They’re everything he has, they’re his family, friends and companions.

“Then promise me you will never forget about me,” you whisper.

Hoseok grabs your hair in a ponytail and pulls from it, making you lift your head from the crook of his neck and look at him.

“I promise you baby,” he says, trying to calm his breath.

“Whatever happens, promise me you will still remember me even after this all ends.”

“I could never forget about you.”

He leans forwards, willing to reattach his lips with yours. But you lean backwards a bit, avoiding his lips.

“Whatever happens?” you ask once again.

“Whatever happens.”

You throw yourself at Hoseok and push his shoulders so his back is completely resting on the back of the driver’s seat. You attack his lips with yours in a rush of passionate kisses, swollen lips and wet tongues.

Pulling from the hair at the nape of his neck, you begin moving up and down his length once again. Hoseok lets you move freely, enjoying the feeling of you taking control.

“Touch me, Hobi,” you pant in his ear. “Touch me.”

Hoseok bring his hands to your breasts and starts caressing them. Then, he pushes your back, forcing you to lean closer to him. From that position, with your breasts just aligned with his face, he starts peppering kisses all over them, sucking and licking.

“Ah…” you moan.

You can feel him twitching, and throbbing inside of you with each breath you let out, with each moan and call of his name, and involuntarily you start clenching around him.

“Fuck babe,” he growls, his voice muffled as his lips are still attached to one of your breasts. “Keep doing that.”

He brings one of his hands to your ass and places a hard slap there, his fingers massaging the area afterwards. He spanks it a few times before redirecting his hand towards your core.

You shiver when you feel his finger over your clit, moving at the same pace of your thrusts.

“How could I ever forget this?” he moans.

The feeling of it all is so overwhelming, you’re soon orgasming on top of Hoseok, pulling away and letting his still hard cock fall on top of his left thigh.

Your eyes are completely closed, and your lips parted in bliss, but you hear the lewd sounds of Hoseok licking his fingers clean and then bringing them down to your clit once again to ride out your orgasm.

“Fuck…” you mumble.

“Are you okay, baby?”

You swallow and move away from his fingers once you start feeling overwhelmed by them. Slowly opening your eyes, you find Hoseok looking intently at you.

Nodding, you smile softly.

“Look at the mess you made,” he laughs looking at his thighs and the leather material of his seat. “I’ll have to clean this up before tomorrow’s race.”

You roll your eyes and peck his lips once before kneeling down in between his legs once again.

“Knowing how freaky and kinky you are, you’ll probably leave it there along with my panties.”

Hoseok laughs softly. “I’d love that, but I’d probably be hard half of the race.”

You smirk, grabbing his cock and pumping it slowly. It’s covered in your own juices, so your hand slides up and down easily.

“And you wouldn’t concentrate.”

“Probably not,” he says. “I would be thinking how good I fucked you and how good I would fuck you after the race.”

“Ah, yeah? You would fuck me?” you tease.

He opens his mouth to answer, but you take his length and close your lips around its tip, a gasp escaping from Hoseok’s mouth along with a soft ‘fuck’.

“Yeah,” he pants as you suck him just the way he likes.

Slowly, teasingly, with your tongue tracing the vein that runs across the side of his cock and then stopping at the head of it, paying special attention to the tip of it. Your hand taking care of the part your mouth cannot.

“Move your hand from my cock,” he orders, and you do as he say.

He then grabs your hair into a ponytail with one of his hands and starts moving your head up and down. He repeats the same movement a few times before pushing his cock all the way into your mouth and keeping you there.

“You’re so good to me, how could I ever forget you?”

You close your eyes, ignoring the sting in the back of your throat. The burning sensation mixed with Hoseok’s cries is your own private heaven.

When you feel like you can’t breathe anymore you pat his thigh with your thumb a few times, and he releases the pressure on your head.

You cough a few times once his cock slips from your mouth.

“And what about you?” he asks, starting to pump his length with a fast pace. “Will you forget about me?”

You shake your head no and open your mouth.

“I want to hear you.”

“No, Hobi,” you say.

You know he loves it when you call him Hobi. He tries to act as if he didn’t, but you can see the way his eyes light up each time the nickname leaves your lips.

“That’s it,” he smirks, his eyes focused on how your lips are parted and your tongue stuck out for him. “Now I’m gonna cum in your mouth. Do you want it?”

You nod your head and look at him impatiently. You can see form the corner of your eye his hand starting to move faster and faster, and when some droplets of sweat start falling down his chest you know he’s about to cum.

He’s panting desperately, and just when the first spurs of cum leave the tip of his cock, he averts his eyes to yours and brings one hand to caress your cheeks as you eagerly receive all of him.

He pumps his cock a few more times, milking it completely until he starts coming down from his orgasm.

You close your mouth and swallow it all, opening it afterwards to show it to him.

“That’s it, good girl,” he mumbles, wiping away with his thumb some of his cum that was slipping from the corner of your mouth. “You’re so good to me.”

He grabs you by the waist and places you on his lap. Immediately, he attaches his lips to yours and kisses you passionately.

You don’t think about the next day, or how you’re going to win the race and beat him. You don’t think about the crucial piece of information you just got. You don’t think about the betrayal and the lies. You don’t think about how much you’re going to miss him once this all ends. You just let him kiss your thoughts away in the darkness of his car, in the silence of the night with the city that brought you together and that also tore you apart at your feet.

. . .

Friday comes with the memories of last night in Hoseok’s car. With the memories of his hands all over your body and his kisses all over your skin, his words whispered in your ear and his promises of never forgetting you.

Friday comes with the realisation of everything you’re about to do, of everything you’re about to put an end to.

You say goodbye to all your teachers and classmates. You have passed all your exams, you’re officially done with university.

You clean your apartment and start getting everything you will need into boxes.

You take a shower and dress yourself before going out and picking the bus that will bring you to the industrial area.

As soon as you arrive at the Black Panther’s garage you can sense the thick atmosphere. Everyone is doing their own tasks, minding their own business in silence. You tense immediately. ¿Has Mark told anyone? ¿Do they know? ¿Is Jackson going to punish you and ban you from the two remaining races?

“Y/N!” you hear your voice being called.

You leave your things in your car and then slam the door shut. Fuck. This is it. You’re out and this is all gone. You’ll have to find another way to earn the money and get the fuck out of this city. Or maybe you won’t be able to leave the city at all.

You see Jackson in front of his office, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you sternly.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” you nod, trying to hide the fear that’s paralyzing you right now.

Maybe being forced to stay in this city is one of the best endings. If Jackson knows, then you have no idea of what he’s capable of doing to you. Or maybe it’s best if Jackson knows, because then you’ll future will be in his hands and not in Mark’s.

Before he closes the door of his office you catch a glimpse of Mark staring at the both of you. You try to hold his gaze as Jackson finally closes the door.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, trying to act calm.

Jackson sighs before taking a seat on his chair. The office looks more like a recording studio than the office of a garage, but that makes you feel a little bit more relaxed somehow. You have spent entire afternoons with the rest of the gang members laughing and just chilling. It makes you sad to think that there won’t be afternoons like that anymore.

“Yeah…” Jackson sighs after a small pause. “Yeah.”

You look at him cautiously, your hands trembling at your sides. To prevent you from trembling even more and falling limply onto the floor, you take a seat on the leather sofa next to the wall.

Jackson looks at you and smiles softly at you.

He doesn’t know.

You sigh feeling relieved that you still have time left, but you can’t ignore the pang of guilt you also feel.

“Are you sure? You look worried,” you say. “And the rest of the boys too, well, except Lynn because I spoke to her and she could only think about what she would wear tonight.”

“It doesn’t surprise me,” Jackson laughs.

You smile at him and, when he tears his eyes away from yours, you push the subject a bit.

“Well?”

“I’m just nervous,” he says. “Like, really fucking nervous.”

He’s looking straight at his intertwined hands, bouncing his leg up and down constantly. You’ve never seen him like this, without his tough-leader façade.

“Why? Because of the race?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I didn’t know how to tell you because I didn’t want to pressure you but… I’m nervous as fuck for tonight’s race.”

You blink a couple of times. Pressure… As if Mark’s words weren’t already enough.

“I am, too,” you sigh, opting for being sincere.

“If we don’t win tonight… Then the championship is gone for us. You are our only chance, it’s the closest we’ve been to winning in years.”

“Oh, you’re not pressuring me at all,” you joke.

Jackson laughs softly, but stops when he sees you’re not laughing at all.

“Sorry, I’m sounding like such and egoistic asshole, just worrying about winning the race and all that… But this means more to me than just some victory, a trophy and a bag full of money.”

“It means power,” you nod, understanding.

“No, it’s not that either,” Jackson says shaking his head.

You frown. “What is it, then?”

He hesitates and sighs loudly. “It’s difficult to explain, but I guess it’s time I do.”

You nod encouragingly.

“I need to do this for my sister,” Jackson sighs, as if he just lifted a weight off. “I need to avenge her, I need to make Namjoon pay for what he did to her.”

“Namjoon?” you ask, frowning.

“You know there’s bad blood between me and him,” Jackson explains.

“Yeah.”

“Well, it has not always been like that. We were once close friends… Fuck no, we were brothers.”

He stops for a minute, and you can see it in his eyes, in the way they’re distantly staring at the wall, that he’s remembering those times.

“We grew up together in the same neighbourhood, next door. We drove our mums crazy together, got arrested for the first time together, got into this world together, dream about our futures together, about being the kings of the city… I thought it would always be us against the world, the big RM and Wang,” Jackson stops for a moment again. “Fuck, those were the best years of my life.”

“What happened?” you cautiously ask.

“I gave Namjoon everything I had except one thing, my little sister. When we were kids the three of us always played together and got into trouble together, but I was a kid and thought nothing of their smiles and touches. It was when he turned fifteen when I started noticing the lingering looks and warm smiles… I made him promise me that he would never approach my sister, she was my sister, his best friend’s sister, nothing else. And the bastard looked me in the eye and promised me.”

You can see the hurt in his eyes. Where is his sister now? Is she with Namjoon? Did she choose Namjoon and not her brother?

“Like a fucking fool I believed him. I thought nothing when he started telling me that he couldn’t meet that night, or that he had other things to do. I thought nothing when my sister told me she wouldn’t come home for the night, that she would stay at her friend’s. Behind my back he was fucking her… For nearly five years… But I found out. I was supposed to be at the garage, working my ass off so we could finally open that recording studio we had always dreamt about, but they gave me the day off and returned home early, only to find him in my sister’s bedroom with her in his arms.”

Jackson clenches his jaw and his hands become tight fists.

“I punched him, again and again and I swear to God I would have killed him had it not been for my sister that got in between us. Sometimes I dream about that night and I dream about killing him. I wish I had killed him.”

You flinch when he slams his fist on the wooden table and screams.

“In the end she chose him, and he chose her. She went to live with him to some shitty apartment, with a shitty income in a shitty neighbourhood even worst than the one we grew up in. She deserved better… Fuck Y/N, she was so beautiful, in every way. She was like a fucking star, illuminating wherever she went. Everyone loved her, with her smiles and laughs, and she didn’t even realise. She could have had everything and she… She chose him, a no one that had nothing to offer, with nowhere to honk out.”

What could Hoseok offer to you if you stayed here? Or what could he offer to you if he went away with you? If you choose to trust your heart and not your mind and you choose not to betray him tonight, what could he offer to you? And what could he offer to your sister? To her future? If you stay here you won’t find a job at what you want, your mother will make sure of that, and your sister will have the same fate you had. An eternal search of something you’ll never find. What else does he have besides this life full of danger and violence?

“The last time I saw her was at a race,” Jackson continues, snapping you out of your own thoughts. “Namjoon and I used to be part of a gang, with some others like Jinyoung, Jaebum, Yoongi or Jin. When I found out about my sister and him, the group divided and the boys took sides. That night we were racing as rivals for the first time. I still remember it as if it happened yesterday. I remember getting out of my car and seeing them, she was sitting on the bonnet of Namjoon’s car, him in between her legs with his hands on her cheeks. They were laughing, kissing each other in between jokes. I remember thinking that I had never seen my sister looking so happy. I remember thinking that maybe I should let my pride aside and let them be. I remember Namjoon nudging her side when he saw me looking at them, and her turning around to face me.”

The last time… He hasn’t spoken to her ever since then? Or even seen her?

“They exchanged some words before she decided to hop off the bonnet of the car and hesitantly walk towards me. I remember Namjoon looking at me with a threatening look, as if I would ever hurt my sister… Again. I remember my pride taking the best of me, she was my little sister, my baby, my everything, but seeing her walk towards me like that with Namjoon looking out for her made me realise she was now a grown up woman who didn’t need me anymore, who had someone else to take care of her now. I remember feeling hurt, and angry, and sad, sad above all. So, I turned around and rejected her. I got inside my car and waited for the race to start.”

Your heart clenches at the sadness behind Jackson’s words.

“It was a partner race, they’re forbidden now, but they were huge. In it, your partner had to sit in your lap while you drove, facing you. It was exciting, not gonna lie, even more if you liked the girl, but it was dangerous too. You vision field was reduced, and you couldn’t move as freely as usual so you couldn’t react quickly to any unforeseen thing…” another pause. This time longer than the rest, and you can almost swear he’s on the verge of tears. “It all happened so quickly. My sister got in the car with Namjoon. My partner was a girl I don’t even remember anymore. She sat on my lap and I remember kissing her, telling her that I couldn’t wait for the race to be over so I could… Out of the corner of my eye I could see my sister on Namjoon’s lap, kissing him, reassuring him. Then the race started… And the next thing I remember was seeing Namjoon’s car crashed into a concrete wall and stopping my fucking car, kicking out that girl and running towards the car… Or what was left of it. My sister’s body absorbed the force of the impact, protecting Namjoon from the damage.”

You gulp and clasp a hand over your mouth to prevent you from sobbing. You can feel your eyes burning with tears and you jump put of your seat to place a comforting hand on Jackson’s back.

“Jackson… I’m so sorry… I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Jackson says after a while, straightening up and causing your hand to fall from its place. He rubs his eyes and then looks at you. “No one told you and after all the commotion the accident caused, the prohibition of partner races, I’ve tried to make people forget about it by keeping silent.”

“I’m really sorry, I have a younger sister and if something ever happened to her…” you stop when images of your sister come to your mind.

Maybe this will all hurt, and it will keep hurting in the future, but you must do what’s best for your sister. Now, you’re surer than ever.

Without thinking twice, you hug Jackson and caress his back comfortingly.

You both stay like that, hugging each other and sharing your pain.

“I’m so, so sorry,” you mumble, breaking the hug.

“Now you know why this is more than some races to me, more than a championship and money. I have to live knowing that the son of a bitch who killed my little sister is still out there, living his life to the fullest, going to parties and breathing the air my sister is no longer able to breathe,” Jackson says, clenched teeth as he spits venom and hatred with each word. “At first I thought about killing him, take everything away from him as he did to me. But that would be like a gift to him. I want him to live knowing that he killed her, I want him to remember her every single fucking day of his life. I will take everything away from him, yes, but I’ll be slow and painful.”

“You want to take the place of his gang as the leaders of the races, and therefore, the leaders of this city.”

“Our clients, the ones we sell… Our goods to, are important ones. They have high positions in the elite of this city, they’re powerful and they want their suppliers to be equally as powerful. Winning the races means you’re the king of the streets, the most powerful. If I take that away from him, I’ll take all his clients, all his money, all his power… He will be that poor boy who was a no one again.”

“If I win tonight’s race, I’ll still be able to win the championship. If I lose, J Hope will have too many points for me to catch him.”

“Exactly,” Jackson sighs. “I don’t wanna pressure you into anything, I just want to tell you that this is a team work and we’ll all be supporting you. I believe in you, I know you can do it.”

You look at the ground, your mind racing faster than you’ll car will race tonight.

“You have potential,” Jackson continues. “We all believe in you.”

You already made a decision. Why is it so hard for you to nod and tell Jackson that you’ll do it, that you won’t fail him or the Blue Eagles?

“I’ll do it for our sisters,” you nod decisively.

. . .

Your hands are sweating inside your gloves, and your heart his beating wildly inside your chest. You feel like you’re gonna throw up at any minute.

You got into this because you wanted to feel free, feel as if – for once in your life – you held the reins of your life, of your decisions and the consequences. But now you are where this all started, inside your black Mitsubishi, feeling the weight of all that was going to happen that night over your shoulders, suffocating you.

You look at the girl who is standing in front of the cars, the megaphone in her hands as she shouts something you don’t give a fuck about. You guess it’s the same thing she always says.

You avoid looking at your left, where the silver Porsche is parked, the man you love and you’re about to betray inside.

You wonder if he’s thinking about you, if he’s imagining everything he would do to you after the race, and you close your eyes, because you want to imagine that too.

You want to picture yourself at the party an hour after the race, sitting in your booth with your drink in your hand, pretending you’re bored and that you don’t notice the stares Hoseok’s sending your way, making him impatient and angry. You imagine yourself texting him, smirking as you write each word carefully, teasing him because she’s watching you and he knows you’re texting him. You imagine yourself telling goodbye to Lynn and the rest and sneaking out of the party. You imagine yourself waiting for Hoseok outside as you gaze at the stars. You imagine his hands roaming all over you in the car, on your way to your apartment. You imagine the feeling of his lips as he kisses you and pushes you against the wall of the elevator. You imagine his delicious caresses and how impatient he is while you open the door to your small apartment. You imagine…

You open your eyes and come back to reality.

Imagining is not going to get you out of this. It isn’t going to help you.

But you can’t help it. You keep imagining, thinking about the what ifs. All the after parties you will never sneak out of. Of all the kisses and caresses and impatient spanks as you open the door to your apartment that you will never have.

Your body is on autopilot and you don’t even know the race has started and that you’re driving now, pressing the gas pedal with force.

Hoseok is ahead of you, as usual since his car is lighter and accelerates faster.

Looking through the rear mirror of your car, you can see Jungkook’s and Jinyoung’s cars starting to disappear into the distance, just Hoseok and you at the front of the race. When did the race start? For how long have you been driving on autopilot?

You position your car directly behind Hoseok’s, picking up his speed.

You can see him looking at you through the rear mirror of his own car. You would be smirking by now, but your lips are forming a straight line and a frown has appeared in between your brows.

Slowly, your car starts coming closer and closer to Hoseok’s, but as he sees what you’re doing, he press the brakes softly and the rectangular red light on the back of his car lights on, making you step on the brakes too.

You click your tongue and try to approach him in a different way,

There’s a curve not far from where you’re now, you’ll wait until then,

Yeah, you’re my fucking weakness.

You got me crazy.

You shift gears, reducing so the engine of your car contains its own strength.

We still don’t know J Hope’s weakness.

The man with no weakness does have a weakness.

Yeah?

Yeah. You wanna know what is it?

You.

You start seeing the curve. Hoseok must be happy because he has escaped a bit from you.

You wait, the curve is getting closer. You have to do it now.

Taking advantage of the straight path ahead of you, you let go of the steering wheel and quickly grab the pitch-black helmet with both hands.

They’re trembling as you unclasp the security bar of the helmet. They’re sweating as you pull from the helmet, taking it off and placing it on the passenger seat.

It feels different, driving without your helmet on. You feel naked, exposed.

Quickly, you grab the steering wheel just in time, and just as quickly you step on the gas pedal until the sound of the engine is so loud you can’t stand it anymore.

When you look upwards, your car has caught Hoseok’s and you’re both side by side. While your car was slowing down because you were saving your engine’s power, Hoseok had maintained it and it lost strength.

The curve arrives and you grab tightly the steering wheel. This is it.

You shift gears and let your car relax a bit as you take the curve, the power of the engine still accelerating your car’s speed.

Taking a deep breath, you roll down the tinted window of your car and close your eyes. This is it.

You’re my fucking weakness.

You open your eyes and turn your head a bit, looking at the silver Porsche. Hoseok is focused on taking the curve, his cheeks getting fuller like every time he’s concentrated on something.

He feels a pair of eyes and he looks to the side, to the fucking asshole who is threatening to take the victory away from him.

Instead of seeing some tinted window and some black helmet, he sees…

He sees you.

It’s brief, but you can see it, the astonished look on his face. The fucking confusion in those dark eyes of his.

You turn your face around quickly, focusing your eyes on the road once again. You must return your attention to the race, and that’s why you must look away from Hoseok, not just because you can’t stand seeing the betrayal on his face.

Pressing your foot on the gas pedal you take the curve from the inside, your car easily passing the silver Porsche. You roll the window up once again when the curve ends, and you continue pressing on the gas pedal as if your life depended on it. You don’t want to look to your side, in case you find him still looking at you.

Finally, you give in and out of pure curiosity you look at the rearview.

Nothing.

You then look at the side mirror. In the distance, you see two dots of light. Is it Hoseok? Is he okay?

You shake your head, forcing yourself to continue. This what you wanted, now you can’t back away.

Time flies as you continue pressing on the gas pedal and keeping the steering wheel straight. You unconsciously look to the side mirror every now and then, hoping to see two lights, or some silver reflect. But you don’t, instead all you see is the empty road behind you and the streetlights at both sides.

Your eyes find the finish line after a couple of seconds.

There, a mass of people dressed in black, vibrant blue, red and all sorts of colours are waiting for you.

As you cross the finish line, you let out all the air you didn’t even know you had been holding. You hear screams and cheers coming from the outside of your car, but you stay inside, silent and unmoving.

Your hands still gripping the steering wheel, the engine still on. The lights of the panel of your car remind you of the night before. Of how tight Hoseok was holding you against him.

The screams become more vivid and invade the inside of your car when the driver’s door opens and someone barges in to hug you.

“You did it!” you hear the voice of Jackson against your ear as he hugs you tightly.

“Yeah,” you mumble, a fake laugh escaping your lips.

You try to smile and look happy when he break the hug and looks at you.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he sincerely says.

You nod with your head before unbuckling your belt and turning the engine off, keeping the car keys on the back of your jeans.

Just then, another car crosses the finish line. It’s Jungkook, followed closely by Jinyoung. But no sign of the silver Porsche.

Your eyes keep scanning the finish line as car after car crosses it. Hoseok is still nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, your gang mates hug you, kiss you, pick you up and turn you around. Lynn jumps excitedly as she hugs you. She screams your name and Jackson follows her, and soon others are screaming your name too.

You catch a glance of Mark blending in with the rest of the Black Panthers. He’s celebrating, just like the rest, but when his eyes meet yours, he turns serious and just nods.

Your attention turns back to the finish line when you hear the loud roar of a engine.

The silver Porsche appears and the crowd parts to give him space to park. But, instead of parking, it flashes its headlights at the crowd.

The Black Panthers are still celebrating, but you’re too focused on the silver car and its driver to care.

The crowd takes some steps back once again and then, the silver Porsche accelerates and disappears in the distance.

For a minute, the crowd stays silent, but then, your name is shouted once again and they keep celebrating.

They don’t notice how your eyes still linger on the place where the silver car disappeared. They don’t notice the frown on your face or the longing in your eyes. They don’t notice how you’re desperately trying to get rid of their hands touching you to lift you up, or their arms surrounding you in a hug. They don’t notice how your heart is breaking right in front of them. They don’t notice how you bite your lower lip to not scream in agony.

You must face the consequences of your act, and they don’t notice any of that because you hide it all behind a cold façade – your old-time friend.

Hoseok could have been a big ‘now or never’ shouted in the air at the top of your lungs. He could have been a lot of things, but he’s not any of them anymore. And, ever since he can’t be a ‘now’, maybe he will be a ‘never’.

. . .

After the race, you don’t feel in the mood for partying, but you know that if you go to your apartment you won’t be able to do anything but think, and that’s the last thing you need right now.

Instead of acting like a mature persona and facing the consequences of your acts and the choices you made, you choose to drink in hopes of forgetting about everything even if it’s just for tonight.

And drink you do. Glass after glass.

Nobody finds it weird that you’re drinking as if there was no tomorrow, too focused on drinking all the alcohol in the room themselves.

Shot after shot your throat burns and shot after shot your mind stops thinking about him.

The Black Panthers are celebrating. You’re at the top of the chart, ten points ahead of the unbeatable J Hope. Even if you finished the final race in second place, you would win.

Jackson is already drunk, mumbling uncoherent things to a girl that is attached to his neck. Jaebum, Yugyeom, Youngjae and Bambam are dancing on the dancefloor. Mark is nowhere to be seen. And, unsurprisingly to you even in your drunken state, Lynn and Jinyoung are making out on a couch.

Then, there is you, sitting on an armchair by your own, drinking and laughing on your own. You’re starting to see double.

Trying to focus your gaze properly and get rid of the blurry lines, you stare at the booth in which the Blue Eagles are.

The atmosphere in it has nothing to do with the usually cheerful and celebratory one. Namjoon is sitting, his gaze lost inside his glass of liquor – and you wonder if he’s thinking about her, if he ever thinks about her anymore. Taehyung is talking to some girls, but he doesn’t look as playful and in the mood as he usually is. Jungkook and Jimin are talking, a conversation that seems to serious for a party. Yoongi is on his phone as he usually is, and Jin is laughing with some girls, though you can’t see his smiles reaching his eyes.

Your eyes search across the booth again, in search of Hoseok, but he isn’t there.

You wonder where he is. If he’s home, or if he’s on that mountain he brought you to just yesterday. You wonder if he’s thinking about you, if he hates you, if he’s mad at you… He probably does, and he probably is.

Sighing, you fill you cup once again and gulp it down in one go.

If you could just force your mind to stop thinking about certain things, you would be carrying on, knowing you did the right thing… At least for your sister.

It isn’t until fifteen minutes later, that your feet drag you to the bar of the old industrial unit. You touch the sticky counter with your fingers, not caring about the strange looks the people are throwing at you. Some congratulate you – now everyone knows you’re the mysterious new racer of the Black Panthers – some others just look at you, and others send you a look of disgust.

This is were you were drinking your thoughts again – you have a weird habit of doing that – after he beat you in the second race of the season. You still remember his words and his voice.

You look pissed, None-Of-Your-Business.

And you were.

You close your eyes, wishing he would appear from behind you and tease you like he used to do. You would pretend you hated it once again and act all rude and closed-off, when you were really willing to answer him with a smile and shiny eyes.

When you open your eyes, a figure exiting the door of the male’s bathroom catches your attention, the vibrant blue bomber shining like lighthouse for you.

You follow the figure with your eyes until it exists the industrial unit.

You immediately take your hands off of the sticky counter of the bar and run towards the door where the shadow disappeared.

Was it…? No, it couldn’t be.

But you wanted to find it out for yourself.

Outside, you welcomed the fresh air with open arms. It was like the sound of an alarm clock to your drunken system.

You had to blink a couple of times to recognise where you were, before stumbling towards the back of the industrial unit.

Once you arrive, you see the place deserted, and you feel a pang of disappointment in your chest. The sky is clear tonight, and the moon lights the place, bathing with its milky light.

You squint your eyes through the place, and just when you’re about to give up and go back to the party, you find a slumped figure on top of one of the metallic containers.

Back pressed against the back of the industrial unit, legs pressed against his chest, head leant backwards, there he is. Hoseok is contemplating the sky just like you had been contemplating it the night you two ran away from the city, even if it was just for a weekend, even if it was just because you had to escape from the police.

You stay there, paralyzed, thinking about just running away and acting as if you didn´t see him. But that would just be another act of immaturity to add to the thousand you committed tonight. So, instead of chickening out like you want to do, you take a deep breath of air and try to act as if you weren’t drunk.

“Hoseok,” you call.

The boy immediately snaps his eyes at you. It takes him a couple of seconds to recognise you, but once he does, he hops off the metallic container and starts walking towards you.

Or so you think, because once he reaches you, he just continues walking by, not even sparing you a glance.

“Hoseok!” you call once again, running after him and grabbing his arm once you reach him.

He shakes your hand off of him and ignores you.

“Hoseok, please! I just wanna talk to you!”

“So you can keep lying to me? No, thanks,” he says, not even once stopping to look at you.

Maybe it is because you’re drunk, because otherwise you would never cause a scene in front of everyone, but you run towards him until you stop right in front of him.

“Hoseok!”

Quickly, he avoids you and keeps walking towards the entrance of the industrial unit.

You don’t give up and follow him.

“What do I need to do for you to talk to me?”

“Disappear,” he spits.

“No, please, listen to me,” you insist, once again running until your in front of him, your hands on his chest to stop him from further walking. “I need to explain it to you.”

“Back off.”

You flinch at the venom laced in his voice, but still, you don’t give up, not even when he grabs your wrists with his hands and tries to push them away from him.

“Back. Off,” he repeats through clenched teeth.

“No.”

“I said back off!” he shouts, grabbing your wrists harder and pushing you away from him with strength.

“And I said listen to me!” you raise your voice so it tops Hoseok’s, catching the attention of some people who got out of the industrial unit to get some fresh air.

Hoseok stops for a moment and he analyses you, eyeing you up and down.

“Are you drunk?” he whispers, scrunching his nose as if he was disgusted by you.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter right now.”

“That doesn’t matter?!” he asks, raising his voice once again. “Of course if fucking matters. I won’t have this conversation with you, much less if you’re drunk.”

“I’m good now,” you say, taking a step back and waving your hands in the air as if showing him you are completely capable of maintaining a conversation. “See?”

“Well, maybe you want to talk, then,” he says, completely ignoring you and your stupid movements. “But I don’t.”

And with that, he turns around once again and starts walking away from you. Once again. He has walked away from you too many times, and they were all your fault. You’re not letting him go this time.

“I am in love with you!” you shout, making Hoseok stop dead in his tracks.

You are gasping for air as if you had just been running a marathon.

When you see Hoseok doesn’t make a move, you stay there, shyly repeating those same six words.

“I am in love with you,” you whisper, so lowly you’re sure he hasn’t heard you.

You observe his back as it tenses and relaxes, his fists as they clench and unclench, and you wait, for him to turn around and tell you he loves you back, or to continue walking as if you never said anything in the first place.

But he turns around and takes some steps towards you.

“You’re just saying that because you’re drunk,” he scowls angrily.

And despite his steady voice and firm words, you can see his eyes searching for some clue in yours. A clue that tells him you’re lying. A clue that tells him you’re telling the truth.

“I am in love with you,” you repeat for the third time, now looking him in the eye.

“You’re saying that just so you can keep playing with me.”

“Does it look like I’m playing with you, Hoseok?” you ask, taking some steps towards him.

“Well, it didn’t look like you were playing with me all these past months either,” he says, lifting his arms in the air. “And look where we are now.”

“I can explain…” you plead.

“Explain what? How funny it was to laugh at me?” he asks, bitterness laced in his words.

“I never laughed at you.”

“Just tell me something… Was it all planned? To get me to sleep with you just so you could learn my strengths and my weakness and use them against me? Was it all planned when you invited me to your apartment that first night? Or the second? Or the third?”

“No,” is the only thing you can whisper.

“What?” he says, asking you to say it more clearly.

“No,” you repeat. “It was never planned.”

“Why can’t you look me in the eye as you say so, then?” he asks, and you lift your gaze, not even realising you had been staring at the ground. “You can save it. The I love you. I already caught you in your sick little game, you don’t need to play pretend anymore. Congratulations, you got what you wanted, you’ll be the best racer in the city.”

“I don’t wanna be the best racer in this fucking city, or in any other city for that matter,” you angrily say. “I invited you to my apartment because I fucking wanted to. The first time and the second one and all the other times. At first, I only saw you as a forbidden attraction and that was what made me want you I’m not gonna lie, but things started to get more and more difficult and I…”

You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words to say.

“Why would I tell you that it was wrong and that we would get caught all those times, then? Why would I tell you to stop if I only wanted to take advantage of you? How would you explain that night when I told you we should stop seeing each other?”

“Another piece of your game.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “There was never a game to begin with!”

“I saw you Y/N,” he says, approaching you dangerously until his chest is nearly touching yours. “I saw you in your car, with your helmet off… Looking at me as if you had been waiting for that moment for years. That stare… Each time I told you about that mysterious new racer of the Black Panthers and how badly I wanted to beat him… You were laughing on the inside, weren’t you? At least I hope you had fun.”

“It was never like that! If you’d just let me explain!” you say, getting frustrated.

“Couldn’t you have explained me last night?!” he says. “While you were in my car, telling me all those things… I even thought that maybe you were right, that I deserve a better life, one better than this. I even thought about leaving everything behind and starting from zero with you.”

“I thought it’d be better if I just disappeared and you never heard of this,” you say, trying to calm yourself and lower your voice to stop you both from catching everyone’s attention. In the end, all everyone around you is seeing is just a Blue Eagle arguing with a Black Panther, and not a simple Black Panther, their new racer and therefore, the Ghost Eagle’s enemy. “That way you would have never thought this way about me.”

“Well, congratulations, you got exactly that.”

You click your tongue, but as you start hearing voices coming from the industrial unit, you know you don’t have much time to explain yourself.

“I wasn’t planning on winning, or even telling you, I would just move out of the city with my sister and it’d be over, you would maybe think about me for a couple of moths but then you’d end up forgetting about me, but Mark came to my apartment last Sunday when you dropped me off and he saw us. He threatened to tell Jackson about it and hurt my sister if I didn’t win tonight’s race and the championship.” you say, rushing your words as the noise and voices start getting louder. You’ve attracted too much attention. “The only easy way of winning you was using your weakness against you, and you told me that weakness was –“

“What’s going on here?” a deep voice says from behind you, startling you.

Hoseok backs away from you as if your presence burnt him, but as he does so, his eyes never leave you. The deep frown between his brows and the way his lips form a thin line, makes your heart beat erratically.

“Please…” you mouth to him. “You have to believe me.”

“I said what’s going on here?” the voice repeats, and when you move away, you see Namjoon approaching followed by the rest of the Blue Eagles.

Their vibrant blue bomber jackets make their way through the crowd who was “discreetly” staring at you.

“N… Nothing,” you stutter, looking to the floor awkwardly.

Hoseok is still speechless, staring at you and a huge battle exploding inside his mind.

“Are you sure? Hoseok?” Namjoon asks once again, this time walking towards Hoseok.

“I can’t believe you fucking did this to me,” another voice chimes in, and this time, the shiver than runs down your spine tells you that Jackson isn’t going to ask what is going on. He already knows.

A pair of hands grabs you from the collar of your t-shirt and pushes you backwards.

You only see a pair of dark, furious eyes.

“How could you?” Jackson spits. “After all I’ve done for you, after all I told you.”

“I… I…” you stutter.

He shakes your body with force, making you stumble backwards. You don’t fall to the ground because the same hands that are pushing you are the ones that keep you in place.

“I’ve let you in my group and accepted you as a sister.”

You don’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’? You’re not sure you’re sorry at all.

“I’ve let you into my own fucking life,” Jackson says through gritted teeth, shaking you once again and causing you to fight against him trying to escape from his grip.

“Let go off her,” Hoseok growls, grabbing Jacksons t-shirt from its back and pushing him away from you.

“And you…” Jackson spits, turning around and quickly pushing Hoseok back. “You piece of shit.”

“Stop this! What the fuck is going on here!” Namjoon shouts, separating both Jackson and Hoseok.

“You didn’t tell him?” Jackson laughs devilishly, looking at Hoseok. “You were keeping it a secret, weren’t you? You and your girl.”

Hoseok remains silent, looking defiantly at Jackson.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Wang?”

“Why don’t you tell him Hoseok?”

“Hoseok?” Namjoon asks, staring at the dark-haired boy.

Hoseok glances briefly at you before taking a deep breath.

“Why don’t you tell him you have been both fucking each other behind our backs?” Jackson asks again once he sees Hoseok is not going to say anything.

Namjoon’s eyes widen and he immediately snaps his eyes at Hoseok, then at you.

“What? Hoseok what is Wang saying?”

Hoseok hesitates, the silence surrounds you both.

“Joon, he’s telling the truth,” Hoseok says, maintaining eye contact with Namjoon.

Namjoon sighs loudly and runs a hand across his hair.

“Fuck… Hobi…” Namjoon scoffs. “What have you done?”

“I’m sorry Joon, fuck, I know I betrayed you and broke our rules… But I couldn’t help it, I...” Hoseok says, stopping before looking at you and then averting his eyes away from you once again.

Namjoon is still running his hands across his hair, his face, not knowing what to do.

Jackson scoffs.

“Of course you’re not going to punish him,” he says bitterly. “You did the same.”

Namjoon snaps at that.

“You don’t bring that up now,” he says, pointing Jackson with his finger, threatening him.

“I can bring that up whenever I fucking want,” Jackson says.

He slowly approaches Namjoon until the latter’s finger is pressed against his chest. More people stars stopping to see what’s going on, surprised to see both leaders of the Blue Eagles and the Black Panthers interacting for the first time in years.

“You better stop before I –“ Namjoon starts.

“You also betrayed me and broke all our rules. How are you going to punish him for following in your footsteps?”

Angrily, Namjoon breaks the small space that remains between them both and grabs the front of his leather jacket.

“Stop. Now,” Namjoon grits his teeth.

Everyone around you his holding their breaths, waiting expectantly for what is going to happen next. The only sounds that surround you are the few voices of the people that are outside and that aren’t focused on you and the muffled music coming from the industrial unit.

“Was it all planned? To do the same thing to me again?” Jackson keeps spitting, teasing Namjoon, pushing him closer to his limit. “Did you use her like you used my sister? Did you send him to fuck her just so you could see me suffer again?”

Namjoon growls loudly and slams his fist on Jackson’s nose.

“No!” you shout, launching towards them to try and stop them.

You grab Jackson’s leather jacket in an attempt of pushing him away from Namjoon, but they’re like a storm clashing against the sea, unstoppable, drowning everything and everyone in their way.

They keep shouting things none of you can understand while punches fly, they push each other and keep fighting like two rabid dogs.

Jungkook and Jimin rush to grab Namjoon as you pull from Jackson’s jacket with all your strength, but despite your efforts, he doesn’t move a single inch.

Instead, you stumble backwards and nearly fall onto the ground if it weren’t for the arms of Yugyeom. He looks at you with stern eyes before rushing to help Jinyoung trying to break Jackson away from Namjoon.

“Y/N…” Lynn whispers from behind you.

You look at her and she has tears in her eyes. You can only lower your head and let the guilt fill you.

“I…” she stutters.

You only shake your head and let her hug you.

But your small moment is broken when you hear the screams of Jungkook and Jinyoung.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Get out of my way then!”

“Jinyoung!” Lynn calls him before he can punch Jungkook in the face.

But it’s too late.

And somehow, hell breaks loose and everyone is punching everyone, dragging them to the ground and shouting like crazy.

You can’t help but feel as if you’re the responsible of it all.

“Please, stop!” you say, trying to push Bambam away from Jimin.

When you see all your efforts are in vain, you let go of the boys and look at Mark, who is contemplating everything from afar.

“Are you happy now?” you ask him bitterly. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Blind with rage, you approach him, close your hand into a fist and slam it onto his face with all the strength you have. It is so sudden, that Mark doesn’t see it coming and your fist collides against his nose completely.

It hurts more than you expected, but the pain is so satisfying, you punch him again.

Mark lets out a cry of pain and clasps his hand over his bleeding nose. You pant, massaging your sore knuckles and ready to deliver your second punch. But this time, Mark is waiting for you and he throws you onto the ground.

You fight against him, rolling onto the ground, trying to kneel him on his crotch.

But he’s bigger and stronger, and he clasps his hands around your throat, a devilish glint on his eyes as he sees you gasping for air.

You grab his wrists, trying to scratch him, to break his hold over your neck. Gasping, you watch some droplets of blood run down his chin and land onto your t-shirt.

You scream, trying to find strength with it.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” he pants. “This is what you deserve.”

You clench your teeth, your lungs starting to burn and your throat begging you to swallow, to breathe… To do anything. But you can’t.

Somehow, your grip over Mark’s wrists looses and you find yourself looking away from him and looking at your surroundings.

You feel dizzy. All around you are punches, screams, people watching… And yet, all you can do is watch, because you feel as if this is all your fault. When your father ran away from home he caused you great pain, and ever since then, you’ve been doing the same thing to everyone that surrounds you. You know you’ve caused pain to your mother, despite her harsh words towards you and her behaviour, you know he loves you. You know you’ve caused pain to your sister, leaving her on her own with your mother, promising her that it would all be over some day. You’ve caused Hoseok pain, you’ve caused Jackson pain, you’ve caused Lynn pain…

You look up to see Hoseok trying to stop Namjoon from hitting Jackson.

What did you expect after all you did to him? That he would understand and run after you? He told you, this world is everything he has, those boys who are hitting each other are everything he knows. You can’t just appear into his life and tell him to leave all that for you, and much less when you’ve been lying to him all the time.

A part of you understands, that this is how things are supposed to be. That this is how it’s supposed to end. Hoseok belongs to a world that is miles away from yours, despite being in the same city, despite racing together, despite you trying to lie to yourself and convince yourself that you’re a part of this world too. Another part of you is begging you to not understand, to not think, to just feel.

That same part is longing to have Hoseok in between your arms once again, forever. That same part is begging you to stay with him.

But the bigger part, is the part that understands, the part that can’t do to your sister the same thing your father did to you. And that part is now telling you to let go of him, you made him suffer enough, just disappear from your life, he will end up forgetting about you.

Your eyes then land on Jackson and Namjoon, who are still resisting everyone’s attempts at separating them. You remember the story Jackson told you about Namjoon, his little sister and him. As they’re punching each other, screaming at each other after years of pent up tension, you realise they’re just two broken boys still mourning the death of a girl they loved, a girl that will never come back. Regret in their every hit, in their every word, regret of what they did and what they didn’t, a regret that’s eating them up.

This world has no place for that kind of love.

This world has no place for Hoseok and you.

You don’t want to end up as Namjoon and Jackson’s sister. A sad love story that didn’t fit in this world of violence and death, something too beautiful for such a dark place.

You don’t want Hoseok to end up as Jackson and Namjoon. You better have him remembering you with bitterness than crying over something that could have been but wasn’t.

You better have him forgetting about you. That way it will hurt less when you cry over him at night, miles away from him.

But your sister needs you. You can’t let her down like your father did. You have to close this chapter, and start the next. That’s what life’s about.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath of air, you gather what little strength is left in you and you sink your nails into Mark’s skin until you can feel his flesh breaking underneath them. Mark gasps in pain and doubts, enough for you to take advantage of it and roll onto the ground until your hovering above him.

Landing one last punch on Mark’s jaw and crying in pain when you feel the bones of your hand hurting from the impact, you stand up.

“Stop them!” Lynn is crying. “They’re gonna kill each other!”

Namjoon is bleeding from his nose, Jackson’s lip is broken and swollen. Jackson’s hands are over Namjoon’s neck, but he’s not fighting back. He’s just staring at Jackson.

“Don’t you dare,” you growl, feeling Mark moving behind you, and you crash your boot against his ribcage, making him turn around and held the sore area.

“Please!” Lynn repeats.

And then, it is as if times stops. Jinyoung stops hitting Jungkook, Yugyeom lets go of Taehyung. Yoongi and Jin stand up from the ground panting, and Bambam, Youngjae and Jaebum do the same. Jimin sits on the floor.

“You killed her!” the voice of Jackson is heard in the silence that has somehow created itself around the scene. “You took her away from me!”

You all watch as Namjoon does nothing. He doesn’t fight back, he just stares into Jackson’s eyes, tears falling freely down his cheeks.

“You took everything away from me!” Jackson keeps saying. “And now you’re taking her too.”

“Stop this,” Lynn says, lowering her voice.

“Jackson,” Jaebum also says, walking closer to the blonde boy and placing a hand on his shoulder. “He isn’t fighting back.”

“I’ll take everything away from you back…” Jackson says through clenched teeth.

You can see Namjoon starting to gasp for air, his eyelids almost dropping.

“He’s gonna kill him,” Lynn insists.

“Jackson, this is enough,” Jaebum repeats. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

He tightens his hold on Jackson’s shoulders and finally, something clicks in him. Standing up abruptly, he lets go of Namjoon and averts his eyes from the boy gasping for air on the ground.

“What are you all staring at?!” Jackson shouts to the curious crowd. “Go back to minding your own fucking business!”

Immediately, the crowd disperses, leaving you all alone with the silence of the night and the erratic breaths of Namjoon and Jackson.

“This doesn’t end here,” Jackson keeps saying, and then, his eyes find you and you feel them piercing into you. “For you either.”

You swallow, but stay sill as you watch him disappear followed by the rest of the Black Panthers. Lynn stares at you sympathetically as Youngjae and Bambam help Mark on his feet. You shake your head, letting her know you’ll be fine.

When you watch the rest of the Black Panthers disappear, you watch a part of yourself disappearing with them, the chapter half-closed by now.

Somehow, your eyes find Hoseok’s.

They’re still as dark and sharp as the first time you saw them. His equally as dark hair is dishevelled from the fight, and there are a few purple bruises blossoming on his right cheek. The moonlight reflects on his smooth skin, his sharp nose and defined jawline. He still looks as beautiful as the first time you saw him, and you don’t think you’ll ever see someone as beautiful as him.

He looks drained, as if he was tired of this.

Jungkook and Jimin are helping Namjoon on his feet too, and you think this is over, you can’t do anything in here.

After Jackson’s threat, you’re not sure you’re safe, and your sister either. The best you can do now is disappear with your sister and try to forget what happened in this city. Deeply, you know you will never be able to forget it, or forget them, or forget him, but you’ll have to try.

Without looking back once, you leave that industrial area behind and all that comes with it.

. . .

You lie on your bed looking at the ceiling.

You will mis the peace and darkness of your small apartment. You will miss a lot of things, fuck.

But you’re not safe anymore, and tomorrow you’ll pick your sister up and go away from this place. You don’t have the money, and you definitely don’t have a place to go, but you’ll have to figure something out. The most important thing right now is yours and your sister’s safety.

You’re trying to think about the trip, about buying the train tickets since your car is still at the Black Panther garage, about renting an apartment, finding a job and a nice school for your sister. You’re trying to think about anything but him. You really don’t want to remember the hurt in his eyes, and much less the adoration and passion that were in them as you laughed or kissed or just stared at each other. You don’t want to remember that first night you met him at a college party at some abandoned building, how he called you None-Of-Your-Business, how he loved teasing you and how you loved teasing him…

But fuck, it is inevitable to think about all you could have been, all the places you could have visited together, all the things you could have shared. It is inevitable to think you’ll never find someone like him, that you’ll never find someone who’ll make you laugh as he did. It’s inevitable to think about all the what ifs and the could have beens.

All your few clothes are already stuffed in a big bag under your bed, all your belongings in a backpack next to the big bag. You’re already gone, despite still being there.

You’re starting to get sleepy when the sound of loud, rapid bangs on your door fill the entire apartment.

You sit up on your bed, startled, and your heart starts running at the speed of sound.

“Fuck,” you mouth.

This is it. Jackson has come for you. You won’t be able to pick your sister up and run away from the city. Maybe if you call her, you can warn her and tell her to go.

Another round of loud bangs fill your apartment and you tense even more.

You rush to the kitchen and grab a knife. You’re not going to stop them with a fucking knife, but it’s all you have.

“Y/N!” a voice calls your name.

A voice too familiar. A voice that doesn’t belong to Jackson.

A sense of déjà vu fills you and you let the knife fall onto the floor. Your mid reels back to a night, some weeks ago. You’re in the bathroom of the industrial unit, the loud sound of music is muffled by the door. Someone’s banging on it while calling your name and you feel…

“Y/N,” the voice repeats, this time a bit softer, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear him. “It’s me, please open the door.”

You don’t even think about it, you rush to the door and open it, finding Hoseok there, a big bag on his hands. He’s dressed in the same clothes he had worn to the race, his hair still dishevelled and he has bags under his eyes, a worried look on his face and desperation in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you breathe, frowning, your mind still not processing what’s going on.

“We have no time for that now,” he says, rushing into your apartment and closing the door behind him.

“B… But what’s going on?”

He ignores your question and looks around your apartment. He knows it better than his own, so he just walks towards your wardrobe and opens it. Seeing it already empty, he looks at you.

“Where are your things?” he asks.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”

He ignores you once again and starts searching all over your apartment.

“I already packed everything. It is under my bed in two bags,” you say.

Hoseok rushes to your bed and gets the two bags from underneath it.

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” you say, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to look at you.

You’re starting to get nervous, if you aren’t already nervous enough.

Hoseok rushes a hand across his hair and looks at you. The sight of his dark eyes takes away all the air in your lungs.

“Jackson is coming for you,” he says. “I heard them when I went to your garage to try and talk to him.”

“I already knew that,” you frown. “It’s obvious he would go after me after all I did.”

“But he’s coming now,” Hoseok rushes. “And once he has you, he’ll go after your sister, and then after me.”

“W… What?” you stutter. “Now?

“Yeah, you have to go now.”

You grab the bags that he hands you with shaking hands. He then starts pushing you towards the door of your apartment.

“How… How am I gonna find a train ticket now for me and my sister? It’s three AM.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head. “I have my car outside, it has enough gas to run some kilometres.”

“Your car?” you frown, stopping dead on your tracks and making him stop too.

“Yeah, the keys are in the outside pocket of the black bag. Inside you’ll find ten thousand dollars. I know it’s not much, but it’s all I could find in so little time.”

You fight against his hands that are still pushing you towards the door, turning around to face him.

“The keys, the money… What do you mean with all this?”

Hoseok sighs. “Run away. Pick your sister up and move to a place far from here, you’ll be safe if Jackson can’t find you.”

“And you? What about you?”

He shuts his mouth and looks at you, his eyelids dropping a bit.

“No,” you say. “I won’t leave you here. Jackson will kill you.”

“He’ll kill you and your sister if you do that.”

“But I can’t just let him kill you!”

Hoseok grabs you by the shoulders and shake you a bit.

“You have no time, Y/N, Jackson and the rest of the Black Panthers will be here at any moment. Just grab all those bags and go away.”

“But you, what about you? You –“

“Don’t worry about me right now, okay? I’ll be fine. This is my life, remember? I know how to deal with these things.”

You shake your head. “You can’t do this on your own. No one can.”

“Namjoon is with me, I have the Blue Eagles on my side,” he says, trying to calm you. “It’ll all be fine.”

“No,” you shake your head once again. “No, it won’t be fine. Just… Come with me.”

“And leave Namjoon on his own? After all he did for me, I can’t do that. I can’t abandon my family.”

You feel your eyes burning, tears starting to blur your gaze. So, this is it?

“We already spoke about this,” Hoseok says, his voice barely a whisper as his eyes search yours.

“When we spoke about this, your life was not on the line.”

“When we spoke about this, I didn’t know you were the main racer of the Black Panthers.”

“So you would run away with me if you still didn’t know?”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Hoseok shakes his head. “All that matters is your safety.”

“Why? Why do you care after all I’ve done to you?”

The apartment becomes silent for a few more seconds, you staring at Hoseok and him staring at you. Again, flashbacks of another night with him fills your mind. This time, it is a night a lot happier than the bathroom one. It is the first night you invited him to your apartment. You remember him laughing at your choice of drink: milk.  

“I guess I would have done the same if I had been you,” he sighs. “I don’t blame you for anything you did, I know it wasn’t easy. You did it for the people you love. I would have done the same.”

“You believe me, then?”

“I believe in what your eyes told me each time I kissed you,” Hoseok nods, as if reassuring him. “Maybe I should have just listened to you when you told me to stop seeing each other, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation then.”

You shake your head.

“No, don’t blame yourself. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t gotten into a world I didn’t belong to. I thought it was just a game.”

“We wouldn’t have met each other then,” he whispers.

You place a hand on his cheek. It is warm and soft, a touch you know you want to remember.

“We would have,” you smile reassuring him, reassuring you. “This is a small city after all. Maybe we would have met at that party at the abandoned building anyways.”

“I would have seen you there, at the bar rejecting that boy,” Hoseok smiles. “I would have approached you without a doubt.”

You smile and he places his hand on top of yours, already caressing his cheek softly. In the silence of your apartment, your world is crumbling. Outside everything goes on. The moonlight still seeps through the small slits of the blinds, the neon lights of the city as bright as ever. Cars pass. People pass. Time passes. And you stay there in your apartment basking in all that could have been but never will be.

You swallow the few tears that are rolling down your cheeks. This is you, in your most naked form. No cool façade, no emotionless expression, not swallowing back tears anymore.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I’ve known it for some time now, but I was too afraid to tell you… In case you ran away before I could.”

Hoseok clenches his jaw, stopping himself from doing something. What? You’ll never know. Maybe he’s stopping himself from saying those three words back, maybe he’s stopping himself from letting your words sink inside him, maybe he’s stopping himself from letting go of everything and running away with you. Maybe…

Instead of saying anything, Hoseok leans in and captures your lips with his, telling you everything he’ll never be able to tell you with words.

He tastes like salty tears and the night breeze. He tastes like sparkles in your stomach and laughs at the top of your lungs. He tastes like rolled down windows and the speed of sound, he tastes like driving at 200 kph on a cool night. He tastes like everything you ever wanted. Freedom.

They say the best things in life come free to us, unexpectedly and fast. You have to pay attention, for those things go as fast as they came, and once you see them, it is now or never. Take them or leave them. Take the risk or spend all your life thinking about the maybes and the what ifs.

That was Hoseok to you. Something that came fast and unexpected, a now or never shouted in the night sky, something that was brief but intense a beautiful.  

That night, as you drive down the streets of the city in a silver Porsche, the sounds of gunshots become distant as you keep pressing the gas pedal. You scream ‘it is now or never’ at the top of your lungs, windows rolled down and the night air seeping harshly inside the car, playing with your hair.

[whiskeyxcola]

Yours Truly: Part Seven

Summary: Fourth of July is a family affair on the Pratt farm; something new sparks between Chris and Sadie.  Pairing: Chris Pratt x OFC, Chris Evans x OFC Word Count: 1775 Warnings: Mentions of divorce and abandonment. A/N: Hope you enjoy the continuing series collab with @captain-s-rogers​! Don’t be afraid to ask to be on the taglist, and please let us know what you think! Also, keep an eye out for part eight, which Ashley will be posting later today! 

Tags: @ellen-reincarnated1967​ @crazililwabbit​ @catching-up-with-kayla​ @speakinvain​

Masterlist

July 4

Caroline,

Happy Fourth of July! Honestly, I don’t know who’s more excited for fireworks, me or Layla!

I’m including the pictures from the birthday party with this letter. We had so much fun! Layla said it was her best birthday ever, and that’s all I need to know. Her friends seemed to enjoy it, too, and Chris and his parents were happy with everything, so that’s good, too.  

Chris’s parents are super nice, but they want to take Layla for the rest of the summer. Chris told them no, that he didn’t want to be away from Layla, and he doesn’t want Layla to be taken away from me. In light of some other things that were said, he’s going to talk with me later about what happened exactly between him and his ex-wife, while Kathleen and Daniel take Layla into town for a few things for the barbecue later on. They’re all at breakfast right now -- I was invited to go, but I think some family time might be better for them.

We watched Chris’s rally last night, and I actually saw you! Looking powerful and professional as always. You’re rocking this job, C, I just know it. I’m hoping there are some more details in your next letters that come about what’s going on with you and your boss. (I’m a horrible influence, I know.)

There are more things I want to tell you, but I just can’t get them onto paper. Telling you always makes things real, and I want them to be real but they still seem so overwhelming to put on paper -- maybe it’s time for a phone call? Miss you much, bestie!

Yours truly,

Sadie

After addressing, sealing, and stamping the envelope with the letter and pictures in it, Sadie left it in Kathleen’s trusted care to take into town and drop off for her. The post office would be closed, but the big blue box was always open.

Once Layla was gone with her grandparents, Sadie set to work in the kitchen preparing food for the mid-afternoon cook-out. Chris helped her by slicing up some vegetables for a tray while they talked.

“How was breakfast with your parents?” she asked.

“It was good, and much needed, like you said. Not that I’m happy admitting you were right,” he teased.

Sadie laughed lightly. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Hopefully you’re not upset, but I agreed to let Layla go up to Minnesota with them for a week when they head back. I’ll fly up the last couple of days to visit and bring Layla back with me.”

“Why would I be upset?” Sadie frowned. “She’s not my daughter, Chris, she’s yours. They’re her grandparents. Even if you had decided to send her up there for the rest of the summer, I would have been disappointed but not mad. It’s not my choice to make.”

“Thanks,” Chris said, piling a handful of celery sticks onto the tray. “I guess we could go ahead and talk about Emily.”

“Only if you want to.”

He let out a deep breath, deciding where to begin, exactly. “She left almost a year ago. Layla had just turned four, and I could tell Emily was getting restless. She wouldn’t talk to me about what was wrong, just grew more and more distant. Finally, one day, she told me she had met someone else and she was leaving. I told her,” he took another deep breath, “I told her that I wasn’t going to allow her to take Layla, to which Emily replied that she hadn’t planned on taking her.”

Sadie’s eyes grew wide. “I’m not saying that leaving you is any better, but how could she leave her own daughter behind? And willingly, at that.”

“Emily didn’t want kids when we started dating. By the time we were married, she had changed her mind without any convincing from me, and when she got pregnant with Layla, we were both ecstatic. It didn’t take long for her to remember why she didn’t want kids, I guess.”

Sadie’s eyes welled with tears; her heart broke all over again for both Chris and Layla. She tried to stop the tears, but it was to no avail.

“Hey, don’t cry, Adie,” Chris said, using Layla’s name for her as a means to cheer her up. He set down the knife and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side. “We turned out all right. We got you.”

“I know,” Sadie sniffled, “and I know it’s not about me. It just makes me so angry and so sad. You and Layla both deserve so much better.”

“You have a big heart,” Chris said, running his hand up and down her arm. “That’s what makes you so special to us.”

Sadie leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m not going to save you deviled eggs just because you’re flattering me, you know.”

Chris laughed and went back to the vegetables. “Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Sadie laughed, too, and dried her tears. “Change of subject, but I might like to stick around while Layla’s gone, if that’s okay. Look for some jobs in the area.”

“Yeah, of course. You’re welcome to -- hey, if you find one close to here, you’ll be around for harvest.”

“Come to think of it, what do you farm? I mean, I’ve been here for a month now, and I assumed it was wheat, but we’ve never actually talked about it.”

“Sunflowers,” Chris smiled, blushing a little.

Excitement beamed bright across Sadie’s features. “I love sunflowers!”

“Well, you’ll have to at least come around during harvest. I’ll make sure you get some good flowers.”

Their conversation flowed easily after that, with witty banter and flirty teasing. By the time Layla, Kathleen, and Daniel returned, it was as though they were old friends, comfortable and familiar.

The air smelled of bug spray and firecrackers by the time night fell. They were all full on hamburgers, hot dogs, and a variety of fruits and veggies -- not to mention the desserts that Kathleen and Sadie had baked.

Layla had frosting smeared across her face, and her hands were sticky from a slice of watermelon. When they all set out lawn chairs to watch the fireworks the neighbors down the road were shooting off, she crawled onto her father’s lap and leaned her head against his chest. She was asleep before the fireworks even started.

“She had a long day,” Sadie commented.

Chris nodded, kissing the top of Layla’s head. “That she did, and I don’t think she was fully re-energized from her birthday.”

“I think you’re right.” She leaned her head back and sighed, watching Layla sleep. “I’m going to miss her next week. I haven’t been here that long, but it seems like it’s been forever.”

“Yeah, it does,” Chris said.

Sadie studied him for moment before turning back to the fireworks. There was a note of relief in his comment, and Sadie couldn’t help but feel encouraged for it. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was feeling something more than what would normally be considered professional or even friendly when it came to the relationship with Chris.

She was in the midst of accepting that these feelings were actually happening when Chris confirmed that she was, in fact, not the only one feeling that way: he reached over and slipped his fingers through hers. Sadie tried not to smile too big, squeezing his hand a little in acknowledgement of the gesture.

The next morning, Sadie’s heart was still on a high from the night before. Holding hands with Chris while the fireworks exploded over them wasn’t something that she had expected to happen, especially within seconds of coming to terms with her own developing feelings.

She hummed all the way through making pancakes for breakfast, cleaning up the patio from the Fourth of July celebration, and doing the dishes that had been abandoned the night before. She smiled to herself through the laundry and through Layla’s counting lesson. By the time lunch rolled around, she was more than a little excited to see Chris come in from his outdoor work with Daniel that morning.

Chris, it seemed, was just as excited at the prospect of something new as Sadie felt. The two of them shared blushing glances and secret smiles all throughout lunch. They didn’t say much to each other, but he did wink at her on his way through the back slider when he returned to the fields.

After lunch, Kathleen laid down for a nap, and Sadie set about getting Layla packed for her trip.

“If I’m not leavin’ till tomorrow, why do I have to pack my clothes now?” Layla groaned, leaning on the edge of the mattress.

“First of all,” Sadie smiled, “I am packing your clothes, not you, little miss. Second of all, it’s good to be prepared.”

“It’s not ‘cause you want me to go away?”

Sadie zipped up Layla’s bag and sat on the bed, pulling Layla into her lap. “I never want you to go away, Layla, but I can’t keep you here all the time, either. That’s selfish.”

“You promise you’ll be here when I come back?”

“Of course! Me and Daddy are going to be so bored with you gone!”

Layla grew quiet and pensive, so Sadie set her back on the floor and double-checked around the room that she had packed everything.

“Are you taking your monkey or your goose to Grandma and Grandpa’s?”

“Goose,” Layla answered definitively. The pensive look returned to Layla’s countenance, but this time she verbalized her thoughts. “Sadie, are you gonna kiss Daddy?”

Sadie turned to Layla with her brow raised. “Kiss Daddy?”

Layla nodded, excited now that the subject was out in the open. “Yes! He was so sad when Mama left, but he’s happy now! And he says you’re a blessing, to both of us. And I know you was holding hands last night.”

“Oh, Layla …”

The little girl took Sadie’s hands. “It’s okay with me!”

“Oh, it is?” Sadie chuckled. “Can you keep a secret, sweetheart?”

Layla nodded. “Yes. Is it about Daddy?”

Sadie nodded, too, and crouched down in front of her. “And about you. I wasn’t sad before I came here, but I was kinda lonely. And I’m not, now that I’m here with you and Daddy.”

Layla flung her little body into Sadie’s hug. “That’s why you have to stay forever!”

Sadie hugged Layla tightly, not saying anything, but thinking, if only for that moment, she would be fine staying there forever with Chris and Layla.  

Part Eight

[violin-and-schoolwork]

choi seungcheol- don’t wanna cry

plot: after breaking up, s. coups is faced the reality of losing love right before a tour.

genre: angst

words: 1621

disclaimers: i do not own seventeen or any of their songs or you! please let me know if you want something tagged/warned/removed!

“It’s not going to work out. Let’s end it here, while we’re both on good terms. Don’t worry and don’t be sad. You’ll find someone soon, who’ll cherish you the way I did.”

Those words tumbled around his confused mind as he sat on top of his red suitcase. He didn’t know if his cheeks were flushed from crying or from having come out of the shower a bit back. His hair was still damp and his white phone hung lifelessly, almost as listless as he was, from his hands.

He didn't understand. The two of you were happy! What went wrong? He felt a pang of despair and longing stab at his heart again and he wanted nothing more than to run out of this deserted airport, sans him and the other members that were to arrive soon, and just run back home —to your home —and hug you just like he always did when he returned after a long day of work.

He just wanted to kiss you again, to play with your cute face again, to surprise you with treats again. What was wrong? Why couldn’t he do it again?

The scene replayed again in front of his eyes, flashing like film, taunting and tormenting at how useless, how inexperienced he really was in love.

“Another tour? Cheol, will you be alright?”

“I’ll manage. I always do!” He had announced, grinning brightly like he always did. He couldn’t wait to go and see his fans and see many many new things and bring you back all sorts of stories and rare gifts, just like travelling merchants did in fairy tales that you would sometimes read to him when he was feeling down.

“About that…,” you whispered, clutching your arm and leaning against the kitchen counter, “No. We s-should talk.”

“Is something wrong? Are you hurt? Is someone bothering you? Who is it? I’ll beat them up,” Seungcheol hurriedly asked, worry coursing through him as he leaned in to wrap his arms comfortingly around you, giving a light squeeze. Normally, you would have let out that familiar angelic giggle, smacked him playfully, and kissed his cheek, managing to extricate yourself while he stood there, flushed and shy from the peck.

But this time, you pushed him away a little, not meeting his eyes, hurt and a little taken aback.

“W-What are you doing? (Y/n), this isn’t like you,” he managed out, trying to keep calm. You bit your lower lip, inhaling deeply and opening your mouth to-

“Hyung! Hyuuuuung!”

He blinked the forming tears out of his eyes, wiping whatever he couldn’t dissipate, in hopes that whoever called him wouldn’t notice.

“Did you have breakfast? You’re here really early. Come on, eat” Soonyoung commented, holding out a McDonald’s muffin. Seungcheol shook his head, pushing it away. The other male tilted his head a little.

“What’s wrong? I thought your diet was over. Come on, breakfast is the most important meal of the day! We probably won’t eat for awhile too, since we’re gonna be flying,” he cluelessly rambled, shaking the bag that held all the baked goods.

“Not hungry. You’re here early yourself. It’s not like you to arrive so early,” the older male pointed out, running his weary fingers through his obsidian hair.

“I made a bet with Seungkwan and Seokmin to see who would get here first! Looks like I’m gonna be thirty dollars richer!” He proudly laughed, his hands at his flexible hips. Seungcheol nodded absentmindedly, adjusting his white t-shirt that was tugging at the belt on his black jeans.

“How much sleep did you get, hyung? You’re acting really out of it,” Soonyoung commented, frowning as he squatted down to reach his eyes level and peering into his downcast face.

“It’s nothing. I’m just a little stressed for the tour,” Seungcheol lied, forcing a ghost of a smile, “I think I see Seokmin over there.”

“Really?! I’ll be right back!” Soonyoung screeched, snapping up and racing away, leaving the older man alone to wallow in his misery.

“You’re an idol. You’re not going to be happy with some drab civilian like me,” you stated, “It would be better for you to meet someone who understands you better.”

“What are you saying? I’m perfectly content with you! Don’t say such things, (Y/n), and you know that,” he replied, cupping your face. You quivered, casting his hands aside.

“You’re out of the house a lot and what about your fans? What would they say if they knew?” You protested softly, holding yourself.

“If they were really my fans, they would support me. Don’t do this, we’ll be fine. You know I love you dearly,” he murmured, wanting to comfort you by touching you softly but he knew that you would only shove him away.

“We won’t ever be the ideal family we’ve wanted, Cheol, and you know that. We’re too different, too distanced, and too…,” you cut off, “Too… inexperienced.”

“Is that what you’re worried about? Oh, we have all the time in the world to learn with each other. We have so many opportunities to grow,” he said, smiling as warmly as he could, trying to deny the inevitable, “Lemme have a kiss, (Y/n). I love you.”

“I-I do too. And that’s why I want to break up. We’re not meant for each other. It’s not going to work out. Let’s end it here, while we’re both on good terms. Don’t worry and don’t be sad. You’ll find someone soon, who’ll cherish you the way I did.”

“Hey, Hyung, did (Y/n) pack you any sandwiches like they normally do when we tour?” Vernon absentmindedly inquired, rolling his grey suitcase, decorated with stickers of all sorts up to Seungcheol.

He didn’t answer, the memories of preparing food together, the way he held your hands to make sure you wouldn’t cut yourself, the loving feeling of his chest against your back, the way you leaned over and whispered the sweet words with the voice he adored to the ends of this world leading to the other memories of the two of you happy. You two were happy! A happy couple that went to cafe dates, movie dates, had fights, after fight cuddles and kisses, deep philosophical thoughts and three in the morning, long distance calls when he was on tour, surprise gifts and so much that Seungcheol couldn’t stop himself and everything was so painful as the thoughts all resurfaced, surging forward like a raging, erupting volcano, bringing nothing good.

“Hyung! Hyung! Oh no no, why are you crying?!”

Seungcheol could just cling onto Vernon, burying himself into the male’s shirt, bawling and crying out because he could not comprehend all of this. He loved you, he truly did love you and now you were gone, leaving him to try and uselessly tend to his shattered heart and he was devastated at that prospect. How was he supposed to support and love another when his own adoration left him, taking half of his heart and simply abandoning him to continue functioning like nothing happened?

“(Y/n)!! I-I want to see (Y/n)!!” He sobbed, a complete sobbing mess on the chilling airport floor as the other members could only cluster around and try to soothe him to no avail as he wailed for his loss.

“I can’t do anything without them!! Why can’t they see that I love them more than anything?? I can’t live if they’re not here for me!!” He gushed, tears streaming nonstop down his sunken face, his words coming out like a waterfall, blubbering and calling earnestly for his love.

But you wouldn’t know how he would feel. He was supposed to be an idol on tour, greeting fans and performing.

He was breaking down without you. Without a steady foundation, how can a castle stand? Without his one and only, how could Seungcheol bear to stay strong? And the way Mingyu was patting his back mimicking the way you held him like a baby when he was ill. The way Jeonghan was smoothing his hair only tormented him of the way you rubbed your hands in his hair after a shower, commenting on how nice he smelled and how handsome he was. And the way Minghao was drying his tears frantically, with that worried expression… Everything, even the flowers planted in the pots off to the side screamed of your name.

How was he supposed to find someone better when you were the one for him? When you were the best he could ever find? When you were the one he wanted to spend eternity with, to love, to grow old and become spirits with, to do everything and anything possible with? How was he supposed to live?

“I can’t go on without them, what am I supposed to do?” He asked, sniffing loudly, sprawled out on the cold floor, “How can I go on? How can I pretend to be happy when everything hurts? My heart feels like it’s going to shatter into a million pieces and I doN’T THINK I CAN GO ON WITHOUT THEM!!”

“You can see them again,” someone murmured, trying to ease the rattled leader. Everyone else mumbled something similar, nodding their heads.

“When you see them again,” Junhui hesitantly started, “After a few months after the tour, maybe they’ll have changed their mind. Once they had time to think, maybe they’ll come back to you.”

He helplessly allowed the members to hastily wipe him up and drag him to the airplane. Seated, he glumly glanced out the window, the dull ache continuing to plague his broken heart.

Because if you truly loved him so much, how could you throw him aside like that?

“아는 길 맞는지 내게 또 묻지요...”

Don’t Wanna Cry Series

S. Coups | Jeonghan | Joshua | Jun | Hoshi | Wonwoo | Woozi | Dokyeom | Mingyu | The8 | Seungkwan | Vernon | Dino

[euclyta]

This year’s art summary! Oh goodness, comparing this year to the last, I’ve actually improved both in art and my personal life. 2016 was extremely hard on me and my mental health, and it carried over a bit to the beginning of 2017.

Explanations and descriptions under the cut!:

JANUARY

January wasn’t my best month of the year, to say the least. When I had thought I was doing amazing, on December a part of my past returned and I kinda became a bit depressed again. Luckily it didn’t last long.

I didn’t draw much on this month, it was actually hard to find any art I had done at all; but I managed to find a silly Orion drawing.

FEBRUARY

This is where I can actually pinpoint I was getting better at art. My faces began looking... smoother? And I started adding more details, and the binary tool became my best friend LMAO. The piece I chose for this was a birthday gift for my friend Del.

MARCH

Went back to an old fandom of mine- Danganronpa, thanks to my friend Rice beginning their Smash Bros. comic, Smashronpa. This specific piece came from a stream of theirs where we bingewatched the first anime while they drew in the background. Again, binary tool, I Love You.

APRIL

Here’s where things started... getting a bit rough again. I suddenly started feeling like I didn’t matter to my then boyfriend and I felt alienated since he seemed to spend more time with others while we barely talked. Everything hurt a lot, but I found a strange comfort in an old OC, flower meanings and classical music.

The drawing I chose for this month is one of my vent arts, based around Pathetique’s 2nd Movement and the flowers Forget Me Not.

MAY

I picked myself back up from April and got into my biggest special interest and hyperfixation thus far- Super Mario! It all began with listening to the N64 Rainbow Road theme, and from there I realized how much I loved that silly plumber. My favorite character though? Rosalina. For months now, she’s most of what I’ve drawn. And I’m not complaining, I LOVE her a lot.

Sadly, here I abandoned the binary tool for a while and returned to the good old painting brush.

JUNE

Pride month! Still hyperfixated on Mario, I drew a little but cute thing! As you may know, I’m biromantic, and kin with Rosie, so what’s more fitting than drawing Rosalina celebrating bi pride?

A huge thing from this month was Nozomi Tojo’s birthday, who’s also an incredibly important character to me. There’s a piece I drew for it, but looking at it I’m a bit embarassed to show it ;w;

JULY

There was a specific day of this month that had me in the dumps- the birthday of a former friend. While I really didn’t have anything to be upset about, it felt a bit odd. Luckily the world seemed to notice that and gave me something unexpected that same day- a cat.

-And even more Rosalina! This month I also started taking Chibi commissions, but even now I got two clients ;w; Oh well.

AUGUST

Probably one of the least productive months of the year. I kept procastinating on those few commissions I had, but in the end I managed to push myself foward to do them.

This one here was for Reyne, and to this day it remains one of my favorite little pieces of mine.

SEPTEMBER

Two things: my birthday, and a new IAMX album. Compared to all the sadness I felt last year on my birthday, having a new album by my favorite artist drop on that same day, plus being surrounded by people I love was amazing.  Also my best month of art!

However, at the end of the month I suffered a break up. I was a bit depressed at first, but quickly realized it was for the better as it was stressing the both of us a lot. 

This here is my second absolute favorite drawing of the year, based on IAMX’s Under Atomic Skies (that’s where my url comes from!). I also finally got that fuckin’ WiiU I had been waiting for since October of 2016.

OCTOBER

October was three months ago, but still feels so recent... here I was still depressed about the break up I mentioned, but was still kickin’. After I expressed that I would like to play Undertale again, Draco went out and bought me a copy on Steam! It was crazy and one of the best gifts I’ve received.

My notebooks got filled with silly attempts at drawing Asriel, and Jooj sent me a copy of Adobe Flash too! I think it was also around this time that I started developing a crush on a friend...

NOVEMBER

More IAMX-inspired Xenoblade, this time by Avalanches. This is my absolute most favorite drawing I’ve done all year. It started as a shitty doodle in a notebook at school, and I liked it too much and it ended up becoming this. To this day, Zanza remains my favorite Xenoblade character.

Aside from this, I don’t remember drawing much...

DECEMBER

This month thus far hasn’t been too eventful. Xenoblade 2 dropped and I was shocked to see how much I actually liked it after being so disappointed by all the bad designs I had seen.

I also recently got into Houseki no Kuni! And as I have a tradition of drawing Orion as part of whatever series I’m into at the moment, I drew her as a Gem. And what do you know? It was the return of my old trusty binary tool!

-

There’s nothing else I really want to say, other than I’m extremely thankful that this year went so much better than last. I’m surrounded by amazing friends everyday and I almost never have any reason for my depression to resurface anymore. There’s still a few days left in the year, and I hope that they can go by peacefully. Thank you all so much for continuing to follow me!

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Nineteen, “Twist”

Hiiiiiii omg hey hey!!!! I’m so happy to be back, hope you don’t hate me too much :/ Ok first I reaaaaaally need to talk about Dunkirk like holy!!! Shit!!!! Harry was so good and the movie was awesome and just wow!! Haha cringe but if you haven't seen it yet, you have to! You’ll love it! Sooooo I'm sorry I've been gone so long, this story has been a super tough spot for me for a long time now, I've just been so busy with life. My inspiration and interest in writing this story hasn’t been there tbh :/ But I found a little recently and turned this bad boy out! Also you can totally thank my awesome bf for trying to kick butt into gear to get writing lol he's been the best and so motivating and even more so super supportive. I really hope that you love it and that it's not too rusty.....So be easy on me plz. But let me know what you think plz! Hopefully I'll be back soon with some more! Thanks to those who have stuck around and also a big thanks to those who have sent me the sweetest messages! I’m sorry I'm so bad at replying :/ but please know that they mean the world to me!!!!! Enjoy and have a great day!

Catch up on old chapters here!

Ding.

Stop.

My thumbs flit back and forth tapping on letters as a soft whir of the elevator doors open and somebody steps on. My attention doesn’t waver until something seems off when I notice the awkward silence, and something stops altogether when I look over to notice a pair of black leather lace up combat boots. Stopped in their tracks.

A weird bubbly feeling seeps out of nowhere as I feel myself in some kind of slow motion shit. Lifting my head, I chance a take at the stranger in front of me. It’s a fast first look that ends in me looking back to my phone. But when the doors come back together and the hum of the moving elevator returns, the crazy image before me flashes in my mind and that uneasy bubbly feeling only gets worse. Braving myself, I look back up again to find them leaning against the wall by the control panel thing.

No.

You have to be kidding me.

Words begin to form on my lips, but with every parting of my lips doubt coats them heavy and hard. And I close them, laden with uncertainty and hesitation. Instead, my arms stay coiled around him tightly, rubbing warm round circles into the middle of his back because that’s the best that I can reach. And it’s the best that I can do. His pained breaths hit the side of my neck fast and nervous as tears accompany them now and again, and with each one my heart clenches. I wish I knew what to do for him, what the right words are that would stitch him up and ditch the pain. But I don’t. I don’t even know what the fuck just happened or who the hell that was, so how the heck am I supposed to know how to fix this when I don’t know what I’d be fixing. 

The sense of urgency pounding in my chest only intensifies when his hands hold onto the back of my shirt tighter, balling up the perfectly ironed fabric with a twist into his clammy palms. Well so much for spending half a fucking hour haphazardly ironing it in a rush this morning. His hiccups return and I swear it only makes me feel worse, and like I can’t help no matter what words pop into my head. My head that is resting against his as he keeps his tucked into my neck. Fuck me.

Before I know it, letters and syllables are falling from my lips like raindrops from the sky on a day where the forecast doesn’t call for rain. “W-who was that, Harry? Is everything ok?” I ask, and mentally curse myself not even two seconds later when I realize I asked the one question you don’t ask when somebody is upset, or well for instance sobbing into your neck. Because no matter what, nobody will ever answer it honestly and I always secretly fear that it just makes them feel worse.

He remains silent except for the sputtered sob here and there, and the occasional hiccup. And so my arms remain around him and my hands continue to run across his tense back. My bitten fingernails with chipped ‘French Kiss’ nail polish are lightly scratching through the silky fabric of his shirt when he yanks away from me and steps away to the window with his back to me, without even a glimpse of his distraught tear-stained face. It feels like when you rip a bandaid off scared and fast, the pain sudden and only for a second, but it doesn’t make it any better. His name leaves my lips in a hurry as his figure resembles a statue in front of me, but he doesn’t hear me or he pretends like he doesn’t. What the fuc-

“Leave.”

“What?” I almost gasp, my head nearly spinning from how fast I just got pulled off my feet.

“Just get out of here,” he retorts, his voice still uneasy but guarded with ice.

I hardly am able to spit out his name and a few words about wanting to help, when he cuts me off, “I don’t want you, Becks, s-so get out!” He roars, his voice nearly echoing off of the walls of his dreary office. “Go!”

I gulp, but it’s dry as I feel the warmth rise to my cheeks while his blow resonates with the rest of my body. With a hard set jaw and my fists clenched, I make my decision but not soon enough because he makes one too and so he turns around. Within an instant, his rigid cold features melt into sadness and regret when they see mine, but because I only made my decision a millisecond after he made his I only see a glimpse of his face before I'm flinging open his door. My name carries down the hall in his husky voice, but my feet keep going until I'm at my desk. Within five seconds, my laptop and the brown file next to it are tucked under my arm and I'm flying down the floor until I reach my destination.

A push here and a few steps there with some dings and a wait, I arrive in a dingey cloud and a few seconds later on the plastic wrapped couch. Toeing off my heels, I toss them carelessly and wipe off the dust before settling onto the only open patch of red leather amid the scuffed plastic. Prying open the laptop, I open up the checklist and tick off a thing or two before looking over the last two things.

As I open up a new Word document, I reach my hand down with a struggle and feel under the bottom until I come across the crinkly plastic. I pull out the bag of cookies I left here the last time I came up to the abandoned floor in the middle of construction. With a sweet cinnamony cookie melting on my tongue, I frantically type up notes from the file sitting open right next to me so I can get this shit done and get out of here for the weekend.

And away from him, again.

+

I reach my hand into the small bag once again and play a frown when I only touch air. Huffing, I crinkle it up and toss it to the side before my attention is taken away by a ding. With hesitation knotted in my movements, I slowly turn back to my laptop and am relieved to find it’s just an email from a client, and not from Harry. As I'm reading the bloke’s words, another ding pricks my ears and I'm afraid again to know where it’s coming from and why.

The gleaming metal doors of the elevator slowly draw apart and the ramming in my chest halts when a head of blonde hair peeks out instead of one of brunette. As he steps off and onto the floor, his eyes dart to me and thin with confusion before his pink lips part, “Hey, it looks you’ve found my secret spot,” Asher quips with a slight smile before he plops down onto an armchair across from me.

“No, I think you’ve found my secret spot,” I say with a wink and he drops a small laugh as he grins across from me.

+

It doesn’t look right. It doesn’t feel right. It all seems wrong, in the way that it feels and in the way that it looks. I can’t do this. What the hell was I thinking? This is terrible. I can’t believe I thought that this was a good idea.

“Ugh, this looks so bad,” I groan through my teeth as I stare at my reflection in the smudged oval mirror in Skye and I’s bathroom, as I once again drag the eyeshadow brush along my lower lash line to try and blend out this godawful black shadow.

With a huff, I drop the brush back with the others into the yellow mug on the counter with a clink. I slap my palms down onto the counter, resting my weight on them as I stare at my work in the mirror. And this is why I didn’t go to university for cosmetology, I think to myself as I note the harsh lines and patchy contour. Oh fricken well, maybe nobody will really notice in the dark.

“Your bloody phone won’t stop going off, would you grab it already?!” Skye shouts at me from the living room.

“Chill your tits!” I call back with a small giggle as I cross the room to the small couch opposite of her to pick up my phone. Hmm, just Robbie and Asher.

“Oooo la la, would you look at you?” Skye teases as I scroll through my phone.

“How bad does it look? Be honest.”

“Not bad at all. You did a better job than most girls who try to pull that character off, but they all just go for the boobs and end up looking like tramps,” she replies nonchalantly, chewing on a pretzel as her eyes stay on the tv that Freddy Krueger’s scratchy voice has been echoing out off all day. Her eyes meet mine at the end of her sentence and she gives me a small smile, before they drift away somewhere else. “Now move that bloody tush of yours, it’s almost eight, Beck, you’ll be late.”

“There’s no set time I have to be there by, Skye,” I laugh.

“Yeah, but that certain coworker of yours is expecting you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I quip, plopping onto the couch deciding to pass some time watching the end of this movie. Whichever one it is in the series.

“Oh like I need to tell you! It’s quite obvious from all that you say about him and from the other day when I stopped by for lunch that Asher fancies you, Beck.”

“Nah ah, we’re just friends, Skye.”

“Yeah that’s what you think,” she winks, popping another pretzel between her lips before she flings her hoodie over her head to complete her lazy attire of gray sweats and a black hoodie. I deal back a ‘whatever’ as she gloats with a grin, the warm glow of the candles settled around the room only fueling her fiery but lazy image.

I steal the pretzels bag from the coffee table in front of her, settling back against the squishy gray cushions before settling my eyes on the tv with a pretzel in between my fingers. The warm orange braided blanket forgotten at my side begs me to wrap it around myself and forget about my plans tonight, and to just spend the night in with Skye surrounded by burning candles smelling like caramel and apples and cinnamon while watching the scary movie marathons on tv.

With the blanket snugly around my shoulders, I forget my plans for a while and catch the rest of the movie with Skye. Not long after a text from Asher rouses me and I grab my stuff to step out into the nippy Fall night.

+

Disco-esque lights and opaque fog float around me as I worm past people in the middle of the floor, but when I lift my head I look around hoping to see his face. I think I see a flash of his chocolate locks, but it was just some guy wearing a 70′s wig. My attention is scattered when I see a hand waving at me, and I realize that hand belongs to my friend. A giggle erupts from my lips as I walk up to him and lay my eyes on his costume.

“Wow really, Star Wars?”

“I bet you don’t even know who I am, so you can’t hate,” he replies with red cheeks and a twitchy smile as I stop in front of him. My eyes run over the baggy brown outfit with a long black leather vest cinched around his waist and a blocky belt. As if that isn’t bad enough, I almost lose it when I see the fake mini braid laying on his shoulder. “You probably only know it’s Star Wars because of the lightsaber,” he adds on, poking a finger in my direction as I eye up the blue toy attached to his side.

“Sure, if you say so. Now, where’s the food and drinks?” I reply, casting my attention elsewhere as I clack my nails a dark shade of red together, trying to pull off the look some more. Soon enough his hands cup my shoulders and steer me through the light crowd of people to the long table towards the back wall made almost entirely of windows. Wow they almost outdid themselves.

“I’m glad to see you too,” Asher laughs as I grab a blue plastic cup from the stack at the beginning of the table, Skye’s remarks from earlier floating back up as a blue vodka mix sloshes into my cup from the bottle in my hand.

I flash him a nervous smile before taking a big gulp followed by a wince at the strength of the alcohol. A giggly comment from buzzed Asher leads me to grab the liter of lemon lime soda to toss in with the vodka. I don’t want to get too drunk tonight. I don’t think these idiots here are worth getting drunk with.

My thoughts jump to the dishes of food in front of us, the bags of crisps and platters of desserts. And with that, some well-intentioned joke from Asher is the last thing I register before I’m loading my plate high.

+

A cup or two and too much alcohol induced laughing later, Ash and I are stuck in a corner with our bellies filled to the brim. And no thought of moving in sight.

“Oh come on, you don’t even have a guess!” he squints at me, as if he can see much in this room lacking lights except for the cringey strobe light thing going on and the wimpy skeleton lights hanging from the ceiling. The bass from a tricked out modern remix of The Monster Mash thumps in my ears as I blink, my eyes heavy with a floaty feeling that’s just begun to coat the rest of my body.

“All I know is that you’re Star Wars,” I say and apparently he finds it really funny with the chuckle making its way past his lips, before he takes another sip of his whiskey mixed with coke.

“Have you ever even seen those movies?” he sighs, throwing his hands up in defeat before wagging his finger at me. “I swear to God if you say no, Becky.”

“I’m sorry, man. Star Wars was my brother’s thing, and whenever he would watch them I could never get into them. They’re too confusing and there’s too much going on in them,” I reply with a shake of my head, but it doesn’t help the sleepy-dizzy feeling taking over my body as I bring the cup back to my lips.

“I’m Anakin Skywalker, you idiot. You know, Darth Vader? You at least have to know who that is,” he remarks with a shake of his gelled back head as he pushes off of the floor with his hand to get up. It’s wobbly, but he does it with a small wave and a comment about how the whiskey went through him like a bullet before taking off towards the bathrooms.

I resort to my phone and the dwindling bottle of water at my side, remembering that I have to drive home and that if things turned out to be lame I wasn’t planning to stay that long. 

I don’t know how, but I hardly notice that after twenty-two minutes Ash still isn’t back. When I get to my feet after a little bit of struggling, I catch his mini braid and gelled back hair a few crowds over as I walk by. And by crowds I mean ‘little groupings of maybe five people talking’ which makes me feel like high school all over again with the cliques. The thing you don’t realize about becoming an adult is that the cliques don’t go away, fucking unfortunately.

Weaving my way through my dreaded co-workers, I toss my trash and grab another water bottle before heading to the bathroom cursing myself for drinking that other bottle so damn fast. With perfume clogging my nose, I step up to the sinks and peek a look in the mirror as I wash my hands. My sallow carved cheeks, pasty skin and satin red lips don’t look so bad surprisingly and so I leave with the makeup banging against my side in my purse, hoping nobody will notice.

With a float here and a float there, and a forced conversation and a not so forced convo there, I snatch a small bag of crisps and shove them into my purse before crossing the room. A buzz sounds from my purse as I stab my finger at the down arrow in front of me, and I pull it out to find a notification staring back at me.

how’s the party going?!

did blondie lay a big one on you yet?!

I bite my lip with a roll of my eyes as Skye’s words float in my head. As there’s a ding from in front of me, I move my feet ahead. My back meets a metal bar and I lean as my thumbs dart across the screen replying to her.

Oh stop it! He doesn’t like me, and he totally

ditched me anyways, so I’m leaving. I’ll be

home soon pro-

Ding.

Stop.

My thumbs flit back and forth tapping on letters as a soft whir of the elevator doors open and somebody steps on. My attention doesn’t waver until something seems off when I notice the awkward silence, and something stops altogether when I look over to notice a pair of black leather lace up combat boots. Stopped in their tracks.

A weird bubbly feeling seeps out of nowhere as I feel myself in some kind of slow motion shit. Lifting my head, I chance a take at the stranger in front of me. It’s a fast first look that ends in me looking back to my phone. But when the doors come back together and the hum of the moving elevator returns, the crazy image before me flashes in my mind and that uneasy bubbly feeling only gets worse. Braving myself, I look back up again to find them leaning against the wall by the control panel thing.

No.

You have to be kidding me.

Nope.

Fuck.

Forgetting my phone, I stuff it in my purse and don’t care to close it as my eyes are glued to him. And all of the black and white.

Before I can stop myself, the alcohol goes ahead and I’m talking.

“Wow, how original,” I quip, unsure of how much sarcasm is in my voice. But I’m feeling real about how much he doesn’t deserve it.

“And yer costume ‘s any betta’?”

“At least mine looks good,” I reply, feeling the need to put my hands on my hips but then I’m reminded of those vodkas and I straighten up. Or try to.

A ‘pft’ is spat from his pasty lips half worn of the white paint doused on the rest of his face and down his strong neck. “Whateva,” he remarks, shaking his head of teased dirty green hair sticking out in all directions.

I try to stop myself, but my eyes drop down to the wrinkly white button down hugging his upper half hidden by the white and black striped blazer slung around him. Dark violet paint surrounds his eyes that stay glued to the screen of his phone he taps away on, that’s only paused to yank at the plain black tie sagging around his neck. As my eyes fall all over him, warmth fills my cheeks and does something to the old ticker deep down in my chest. 

I blame it on the vodka.

“At least ya bloody know who I am.”

“Oh fuck off, Harry,” I retort, my face creasing in annoyance that only grows when I notice his lips turned up in a cocky smirk.

But they fall and so do mine when a loud crickety noise sounds from the doors in front of us before the elevator slows to a bumpy halt. The lights above us flick off, but they return a few seconds later although dimmed.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I groan, slapping my hands at my sides and stomping forward to smack at the buttons.

“They’re not gonn’ work,” he says, right as they don’t do anything no matter how hard I hit them.

“I know that!”

“Then why’re ya bloody stabbin’ at ‘em?!” he replies, annoyed. Oh boy, you don’t even know.

“I don’t know, okay?!” I turn around and yell at him, stalking back off to my corner where I slide down the metal wall and onto my ass.

Harry mutters some curse words under his breath as he takes his phone back out, aggressively doing something on it before putting it to his ear. A little short of a minute of yelling and a ‘fuck’ here and there, he shoves his phone back into his pocket. God dammit that odd ass warmth and butterflies in my stomach feeling can go away any time now.

“They’re dispatchin’ somebudy soon t’ come an’ fix it. It might be a good half hour, tho’,” he tells me softly as his hands slide into his pockets and those godawful green eyes settle on me. No matter how soft and balanced his voice is, I can’t ignore how hesitant and annoyed it sounds to be speaking to me.

Out of nowhere, a switch flips inside of me and hard laughter bubbles from my lips. And I can’t stop. No matter how hard I try. And somehow it only gets worse when his eyebrows knit together with the most confused expression ever. But it slowly melts into a giddy smile that causes some kind of fucking avalanche in my chest. 

God dammit, could this get any worse.

“Bloody hell, Becks, how much ‘ave ya had t’ drink tonight?”

“Not even two cups,” I manage to get out in the midst of my never ending belly laughing, but I feel like that only makes it sound like I’m talking shit. And with the look on Harry’s face, he doesn’t believe a word that just came out of my mouth. “I swear!”

“I don’ believe ya, Becks,” he giggles back, eyebrows quirking down as he stares at me before asking me ‘what’s so damn funny’?

“You. Look at you,” I take a little longer than normal to get out in the middle of pointing at his get up, which makes him look himself up and down. “You’re fricken Beetlejuice w-with green hair!” I say before collapsing into myself from the laughter, resorting to hugging my knees.

“I look damn good, I reckon,” he answers, but it only makes the laughing worse.

I don’t know why or how, but when I look up and we meet eyes again he bursts out laughing too. Hard. So hard. Just as hard as me. And for some reason, we can’t stop belly laughing as we stare at each other making comments about the white paint coated on each other’s faces and how bad our makeup looks and why we didn’t just go with something simpler.

“C’mon, Becks! Who tha bloody hell ‘s gonn’ know who yer s’posed t’ be?!” he giggles, pointing at me.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” I laugh back, which somehow only makes him laugh harder.

“No no, don’ ge’mme wrong, but who’s gonn’ know that yer Morticia Addams from tha bloody Addams Family?!”

“Well, you do!” I reply, and he slaps his knee as his eyes crinkle with another round.

“Tha’s cuz ya told me, ya goon! Bloody hell,” his words dissolve into another laugh as he drags his feet over and slumps down to take a seat next to me.

“My bad,” I say with a wave of my hand, before almost choking from a cough as my body threats to give up on me if I don’t stop laughing.

Instead of laughing together, we cough together as his long legs splay out in front of him and my long black dress touches the edge of him. I gulp down some of my water before passing it to him and tipping my head back to take a second.

Uncomfortable silence fills the air as I stare at the mirrored ceiling watching him chug some of the water before he caps it and checks his phone. Tipping my head to the side, I look around awkwardly as neither of us says anything.

Our attention is snagged by our phones as I text with Skye recounting the awkward ass situation and Harry taps away on his phone next to me, the bag of crisps open in between us with a crinkle here and a crinkle there. Before we know it, the elevator doors part open with Jennings and some other important guys standing on the other side to help us out.

I feel out of place standing around as they talk business shit and Harry gets mad about the elevator. Feeling that our moment ended long ago, I thank them before trotting off to the stairs on this side of seventeen because no way in hell am I using an elevator for another week.

“Hey, where ya goin’ so fast?” he rasps from behind me and I turn around to find Harry hot on my heels in the empty hallway. The music pounding from a few thousand feet away.

“Uh, home.”

“Oh,” he says simply, and something in me is tipped off that his voice holds something like disappointment. But I don’t want to go there. Nowhere even close. This has been too much already, and my head is spinning in more ways than one. 

I weigh my options in my head, but that only lasts a split second before I whip back around making my way for the stairs. But I can’t. And so I stop. And spin around to find his eyes float over to me a second later.

“I thought you weren’t coming tonight.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t,” Harry replies with something carried in his voice. But an alarm goes off in my head not to keep going because all it ever gets me is hurt. And I’m trying not to do the caring that leads to the hurting. “But plans changed.”

I nod and with that, I bid him a goodnight and go for the stairs without letting myself stop, or even look back. Because know if I do, it won’t be good. Caring about him has never gotten me anywhere good. And I’m trying my damn hardest to stop caring.

But I can’t. And I don’t know if I want to stop.

[backroombuzz]

Shaft Movie Review: Old School Dad Shoves Millennial Son's Soy Milk Right Up His...

The new “Shaft” movie starring Samuel L. Jackson is GREAT! 80s badass mother F**ker meeting his coconut water drinking soy boy millennial son for the first time.

"Shaft" is the sequel to Shaft (2000) and the fifth movie in a series that began with Shaft (1971). Knowing how Hollywood completely destroys any old movie, I had no expectations going in. I pretty much figure I'll be wasting two hours seeing Samuel L. Jackson playing the same role as he's been playing since pulp fiction, and expecting the same Hollywood formula we've been seeing as of late. Shaft, starting out the movie as the tough mutha he was in those 1970s films. But by the end of the movie he'll be weeping like a baby, swearing off guns, and apologizing for being a misogynist pig to his bright, educated son who taught dear old dad how his touchy-feely generation rolled. But when the end credits rolled, I considered Jackson performance Oscar-worthy. Not because of the script, or Samuel L. Jackson giving a unique riveting performance that I never expected. He deserves the Oscar because, if you don't mind hearing expletives every minute, from start to finish, Jackson embodied what I feel, and probably most Conservatives feel when we become so frustrated with the liberals that we wish we could reach our hands through our computer screen and wring their scrawny necks. The plot "Shaft" is rated "R" and for good reason. There is an overabundance of colorful language, and an equal amount of violence. There is more sexual talk than content but the content is there in the form of some brief nudity in a scene or two. Samuel L. Jackson plays John Shaft the trash-talking, misogynist, shoot first ask questions later, tough as nails Mother F**ker private detective. JJ Shaft (Jessie T. Usher) plays his son who was raised by his mother (Regina Hall), and is a respectable millennial with a degree from MIT, who's a Rookie toiling away in the New York office of the FBI. Usher's performance perfectly captures exactly what it is to be a 'woke" millennial. In a bar scene, a hot looking bartender after spotting JJ's badge asks: "Are you with the FBI?" As any Millennial would do today, JJ gleefully responds: "Yes, I'm an FBI agent, but I don't work in the field, I'm a data analyst. But we're just as important, if not more important than field agents" After she gives him the WTH? look and walks away, his friend tries to give him some real-world advice, " When they look that hot... Just stop at "Yes, I'm an FBI agent.” After JJ's friend turns up dead from what the coroner lists as an accidental overdose. JJ tries to prove he was murdered but as you would expect, things don't go well when a 'woke' Millennial walks into a Harlem drug den. Needing help to solve his friend's murder, JJ turns to his Neanderthal dad, who unbeknownst to JJ, was forced to abandoned him 30 years earlier. Old School Meets Millennial When Shaft meets his red plaid shirt, gray-knit tie wearing son for the first time he says “What kind of business could your Don Lemon ass need from me?” For the rest of the movie, Papa Shaft proceeds to berate his soy boy son for being too white to be a black, and not enough of a man to be a man. "A real man," Shaft tells his son, "never apologizes; instead, he owns who he is." That’s the sort of thing in today's world triggers the liberal mob who will then make it their mission to berate and doxx your whole family until you give in and apologize for having the audacity to say 'A real man never apologizes.' Richard Roundtree Reprises His Role The new Shaft movie brought back the original Shaft who was played by Richard Roundtree and he was simply spectacular in his role as Grandpa Shaft. Roundtree presence in the movie was undeniable, and bringing him back to play John Shaft from the original 1970s films was the smartest thing the new “Shaft” producers could have done. Grandpa Shaft is just as cool and tough as anyone else around him, including Samuel L. Jackson. While far too often you almost feel sad, and ashamed when Hollywood brings back the actor who once played the lead role decades before. This was NOT the case in "Shaft," and there was not the least bit of cringe-worthiness when Roundtree, 76, made his entrance. He truly stole the show, and at the point where most movies start to get stale when Roundtree made his first appearance 3/4 the way through the movie, it really gave the film a shot of adrenalin at the perfect moment. Rotten Tomatoes tells you everything you needed to know about "Shaft" The reviews from the latte drinking Rotten Tomato critics are on par with what you would expect from these liberal progressives, who go to sleep at night dreaming of two non-gender people re-enacting the scene from Titanic with Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" blaring in their dream. The gap loving, soy drinking critics gave "Shaft" a 35% rating, while every other person NOT a gap loving soy drinker gave "Shaft" a 93% approval rating.

  Here are a few Soy Boy reviews: Tim Story's update of the blaxploitation classic is shamelessly regressive. Male dinosaurs again walk the earth with misogynistic and homophobic impunity. These are the laughs, folks. Don't be surprised if they stick in your throat. Peter Travers Rolling Stone. This sexist, racist, and homophobic reboot is an embarrassment and insult to both the creators who handled him before and the cultural impact that it made on people's lives. Rendy Jones  Rendy Reviews (LOL "Rendy" is wearing a plaid shirt in his bio pic). Whether you take this iteration of the character as an affectionate throwback or a cringe-worthy anachronism, it's hard to watch "Shaft" without feeling a little wistful. A.O. Scott  New York Times. A strange, angry attack on modernity that feels like the result of a group of bitter men griping about the metrosexualisation of a younger generation. Benjamin Lee  Guardian. Remember "Shaft"? How about more "Shaft," but with more hacky jokes about millennials and an incredibly ugly homophobic streak? Katie Walsh  Tribune News Service These NON-soy boy viewers pretty much nailed how I felt: Sam Jackson is one funny mother. His derisive looks alone are classic! While the story is paper thin, the comedy is hilarious. Haven't laughed this hard in a movie in ten years. Well done! Tim W Really good movie in a world that has turned into a digital, computerized world. Basically just a good damn movie old style!!!!! Margaret If you are a Shaft fan will really like this movie. It is funny and very entertaining. The chemistry between Samuel L. Jackson and Jessie Usher is great. Richard Roundtree was icing on the cake. Smooth as always. I hope they make another Shaft film with all three of the guys again. Linda It was great and hilarious!! My mother in law and I both love the movie and the good belly laughs it gave. Latangela This was one of the funniest movies of the year. Samuel L. Jackson was at his absolute best. Lamont W Read the full article

[tayegi]

wo w ee i am so excited to see where u take equilibrium! tbh i really like how u r writing jungkook (not in the obsessive relationship sense but like) because it feels like u r really giving us an insight to his mind and how complex of a character he is and like what drives him.. idk if that makes sense lol but i really enjoy the entire story and cant wait to see how it develops !!

Here are the rest of my equilibrium asks under the cut! I am so truly sorry that I just simply do not have the time to answer the rest of them (besides wouldnt you guys rather have me expending my energy on writing ch 12? ;)), but be assured that i have read each and every one of these messages multiple times over and appreciated them all

bonyg said:Equilibrium is really giving me mixed feelings, it's so complicated that I don't know if I want oc with Jungkook or Jimin. It's just not healthy to be in this relationship :"( if I were oc I'd definitely left them both even if I'm gonna die without Jimin :'( it's getting more exciting and I can't wait to know what's gonna happen between oc and Jimin. Thank you for updating ^^

jaaneman-s said:Hi, I don't if this sounds or rude or not, but I'd like to thank you? or idk, I was born in a very manly culture? I know (on my own) how certain things that look okay in this culture but are not in equalness and respect to the woman happen but reading equilibrium has like, opened my eyes a little bit? When I read ch.11 I just sat down and spent a while thinking about everything and how different you view stuff from my point, and how this is actually right? anyway keep the great work ily ♥

Anonymous said:pls read equilibrium at my funeral🙏🏻

Anonymous said:oh oH OH is it going to be one of the cases where the boy "misinterprets" the girls basic human kindness for flirting?!!?? If so, @ the character: go to hell

Anonymous said:Well, it seems like JK (and a little Y/N) has tipped the balance and now everything is coming crumbling down. Who does JK think he is?? I can't imagine Y/N could let the weekend go by without getting close to JM, especially since he needs her. I'm just anticipating the moment when jimin realizes and everything is out in the open. I really loved this chapter! You can see how bold JK is getting knowing that Y/N will do anything he wants, just for his cooperation. Suspenseful!

Anonymous said:me rn: *prays for a joon hyung to sweep OC off her feet and abandon JK and JM* (seriously i'm such weightlifting fairy trash it hurts) (also do you know where i can find my very own joon hyung 😭😭😭😭)

Anonymous said:Reads part 11 Equilibrium -insert jungshook meme here-

Anonymous said:Don't be bothered by those ungrateful readers who thinks you're obligated to write them more than 3k words. Seriously, did they somehow get the impression that they're paying you for this? Just write at your own pace so you can produce quality stuff.

Anonymous said:Finally got around to reading Chapter 11 & if I'm the oc I'd be on a plane up outta there so quick! Set Jimin up with some soup & a blanket, & scoot skedaddle my way out of dodge. Jungkook isn't about to talk to me like that, thinking dick isn't abundant & low value. Shit... Also bless your writing, each Equilibrium update has me on pins & needles~

Anonymous said:I just like... What if Jungkook comes home unexpectedly and finds y/n and Jimin getting it on and then flies into a murderous rage, severely injures Jimin and kidnaps y/n. The second part could be Jimin feeling all guilty and trying to find her while she tries to escape

Anonymous said:Holy shit I'm convinced that Jungkook poisoned Jimin because he's going to be away for the weekend and he's paranoid and crazy as shit that the OC might do something with Jimin so he made sure he's unable to do shit with her 😵 cuz when he called to ask her where she was for his graduation, he didn't even seem all that surprised that he's sick, he just cared about where the OC was.

Anonymous said:Twist end: OC learns boxing and kicks Junglebooks ass

Anonymous said:theory: part two will be titled monogamy and Jungkook and OC will have an abusive relationship. Cause you seem pretty adamant on the idea of abuse (which is 10000% not a bad thing for obvious reason) so i feel like you are taking this story as a lesson for girl to see the warning sign. and part 3 will be about her leaving him finally and becoming single or whatever

Anonymous said:I don't want to defend the oc by saying this but in equilibrium she clearly is right now the one who is fucked up The other 2 get what they want after jk's scary possessiveness and if she wouldn't be controlled by her feelings towards jimin then maybe she would've already left She has also fault but earlier they took advantage of each other's feelings and everyone got something that they wanted but rn oc is like trapped in a cage & can't even touch jimin Idk maybe I'm the only one who thinks so

Anonymous said:I don't understand equilibrium??? Like I thought it was sweet that JK wanted her all to himself but after chap. 11 I think it's just plain creepy with his possessive obsession towards her... like WTF! I kind of want to see Jimin's side of the story like why is he in love with JK and what is with JK not giving a f**k about Jimin at all like when he was the one who initiated this relationship anyways WHUT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED!

Anonymous said:I mean it Jungkook will kill them both. Like this boy has the makings of a serial killer. Why the fuck does the oc not love herself?? Why are you trying to create your happiness from the sparse attention given to you by a man??!! Why the fuck are these people so dysfunctional?? Even Jimin and Jungkook they're basing they're entire happiness on people who they know don't care!! If there's ever a lesson here its self love first before you can love someone else.

Anonymous said:Just read the new Equilibrium chapter (11) and wow JK is absolutely terrifying in there. I'm so glad there are stories out there that portray abuse the way it should be portrayed and not romanticized. I really just want the OC to get the hell out of that house and faaaaar away from this messed up relationship ): she needs to run away from him asap like forget Jimin he ain't helping you either just run while you still can girl!!!!

Anonymous said:iF JUNGKOOK GAVE JIMIN SOMETHING IM ABOUT TO GIVE HIM THE BIGGEST WHOOPING EVER

Anonymous said:Regarding Equilibrium, I reread some chapters after I was done with 11. The necklace bit in 11 makes the sex scene in 4 kinda freaky. The way Jungkook yanks on OC's chain and how he got angry when OC said that she didn't know where hers was. It's like Jungkook finds security in the couple necklaces because he associates it with OC being his and when OC doesn't wear the necklace, he feels that his possession has been taken away from him. Maybe I am thinking too much but it was such a cool detail.

Anonymous said:I have a feeling that jimin's going to witness something that's gonna break his heart bc if you look at the situation then jimin should be happy bc he gets his alone time with jk who he loves and he doesn't have to pretend to love the oc that often bc jk doesn't let her go near him and if jimin sees something that breaks his heart(jungkook&oc)then maybe he would leave both and so they would all go their own ways(?)none of them would have a reason to stay but maybe jk will become even scarier idk

Anonymous said:You should just have the OC in Equilibrium go full on Bruce Lee on JK and JM

Anonymous said:Chap 11 in Equilibrium freaked me out btw. Especially after the sex scene when OC watches Jimin sleep. You wrote "tug" so that implies that OC used her hands. So when OC finds her hands restricted by Jungkook, that honestly scared me. Also in that scene, it was interesting for OC to say that she would do anything to comfort Jimin but seemed to take back that statement when she was restricted by Jungkook. It's like OC has become more afraid of Jungkook than she is in love with Jimin.

Anonymous said:In ch11 of equilibrium it was really sad when she compared herself to a pet... like girl, you're a functioning human being, an adult that can take care of herself. You're able to get out of this cage that's been created around you. It's scary what manipulative people can do to someone but at least she knows what messed up situation she's in now and not like... being attracted(?) to the crazies JK is pushing on her

zeloandhobiaremyhubbies said:Hi there ^^ I'm a new reader, and can I just say I love your writing skills and the story line so far. With that being said, coming from a person who has a close friend in a manipulative/almost borderline abusive relationship, I can honestly say I hope the OC get out of that relationship, especially with Jungkook. There's a thin line between being jealous/slightly possessive and possessive and pretty much controlling. Ugh! I want to know what happens next, but I'm also scared to know as well.

Anonymous said:What do you mean you don't know where is the chain OC(me)?! How can I be so careless?? What if Jimin will find it, no I am sure he already did 😑 and now probably the person I precious the most hate me cuz I took his love of life... This shit (relationship) is not falling fast enough huh? Good job me, good job 😒😒

holdingbackforsnow said:I've read equilibrium 11 and somehow I have the feeling that Jimin knew. Even before Jeongguk showed how messed up he is for us readers. I feel like, that's why Jimin entered the relationship. Maybe he was worried for the OC and wanted to act as a buffer in between her and Jeongguk (including his feelings for Jeongguk) that would explain his phone call, when he was gone on business and even how he wanted the OC to go to graduation so badly. I feel like Jimin knows more than we think...

Anonymous said:As much as I anticipate every update, I hope you are taking care of yourself too! Even as an undergrad, I still get stressed & overwhelmed with my workload so I really worry about your well being since being a phd student is so much more stressful and you still give us great content. Thank you so much & I hope you can take some time for yourself as well! ik remembering to take care of yourself is the last thing on your mind with a huge workload but please please don't neglect your well being!

Anonymous said:Oh god Jungkook in Equilibrium is really a psychopath. The fact that he's so manipulative and lacks empathy for others; it's quite terrifying to think about how long he's been manipulating everyone without anyone realizing it. As a psychology major it's really interesting to read a character like this but it's scary how so many people see his behavior as okay esp since there's so many real cases of abusive relationships like this, it makes me really sad. Ty for shining light to issues like these

Anonymous said:Wow, jk has really started to go crazy-something's gonna blow up soon.love the tension you are building though. It's really appreciated the time you take to build an intricate storyline. and not to focus on negative stuff, but for real, if any misogynistic messages pops up now, then... While I think most readers (but apparantly not all) saw the possessive traits of jk in earlier chapters despite it being somewhat(but not very) subtle, this time you rly spelled it out

lastshadowmonkeys said:to stay with Jimin. Everyone's being manipulative as fuck and it can never end well in my opinion...This is so...Wow, and it all comes out of your brain and imagination, that's amazing! I'm so excited to see where this all will go and if Jungkook will just lose his shit (or any of them really, someone is bound to lose their shit) and to see where Jimin stands with oc now and wow so many questions! I'm intrigued! Amazing job, thank you so much for writing this piece of art!

lastshadowmonkeys said:after that, but woops boy was i wrong. He just turned full on psycho, and i have the impression Jimin is not even interested in her in that way and never has been. That leaves OC to be in a relationship with men who don't love her at all, in the end, which is so so sad and i just wish she'd get over her love (or is it obsession, really?) for Jimin, so she could get the hell out of that toxic situation. She's being manipulative herself, going through all that misery to somehow be able (3)

lastshadowmonkeys said:blowing my mind and i have immense respect for that. I'm not lying when i say i'm trying hard to improve my plot skills haha, since my mind tends to be too chaotic to ever get any structure in anything. I enjoy your stories so much. As for Equilibrium, shit's about to go down man and i just can't fucking wait to see what will happen. At first i was rooting for Jungkook and the oc since it seemed like he just had pent up frustrations from being misunderstood? I thought it would get better (2)

lastshadowmonkeys said:Hey Lu! Even though my asks get lost a lot of the time, it doesn't stop me from telling you how much i appreciate the fact you make time to write such wonderful, intriguing stories to make us actually think about important matters. Equilibrium has become one of my top favourite fics ever, and i just love how you can make every chapter like a little piece of a giant puzzle. You write so well, and they're actually plot goals! To imagine you're a grad student on top of all that is just (1)

got7boystobang said:I feel like (in fact; i knew it due to the fact that u hate nochu so much) the end of Equilibrium is going to be such a downfall for jk just like what happened in jjk must die and that crys drabble idk how tho but u just always have ways to kill jkook cause i bet you've millions of pictures in your head on how to😂😂😂 i love your dedication!!!!! lol

Anonymous said:Ugh, Jungkook is threatening people now? Yeah, it's time to call the cops. That's scary. I felt uneasy the whole chapter. I asked myself several times while reading, "Yo, what's wrong with this kid? And what's up with Jimin? Is he just CHOOSING not to acknowledge some of the fucked up shit that's going on around him?" And actually, homegirl is holding up a lot better in this chapter than I thought she would. Interesting. Thanks for another chapter! Looking forward to the next. :)

Anonymous said:Omg so intense!! Gosh I just don't know what to expect anymore, I'm glad there'll be alone time with Jimin but then what if Jungkook finds out, and what if-what if-gah! Can't wait to see what will unfold next, thank you once again for updating even though you're busy~

Anonymous said:WTF OC JUST FUCKING DROPKICK JUNGKOOK IN THE FACE AND GTFO!!! HOMEBOY IS CRAZY AS FUCK